CHAPTER XI
THE BLACK-HANDER'S POLICE PROTECTION
"'Certainly,' Cecala said. 'In America _everything is prohibited; butif you pay the police or detectives they will leave you in peace_. Inthis land money counts, so that if _you kill any one and have moneyyou will get out of it_. Morello knows how much money he has given todetectives to get out free out of three or four cases in which he wasimplicated. Even now he is supposed to be watched by the police who donot care to watch him because they know that they will receive theirbit. The government always holds him under suspicion as the head ofthe Black-Handers. When anything happens Morello is always in dangerof arrest, but the same policeman he feeds tips him off and so Morellogoes into hiding. The police then feign to raid his place, but, ofcourse, the man wanted is never there. Now then, my dear Don Antonio,that's the way things are done in this country. During the last threeyears I am getting along well in my line: that is, I am the head of aband of incendiaries and earn a little money now and then.'
"Cecala was disclosing to me a phase of the under-world life of crimeand horror of which I knew nothing at the time.
"'And what do you do to earn this money? Do you take the objects thatyou find in the burned houses?' I inquired.
"'No,' sneered Cecala with contempt. 'I set fire to the houses todefraud the insurance companies!'
"He said this with the pride of a professional expert.
"'And how do you do it?' I inquired, curious to learn his ways.
"'Well, you own a store and have insured it against fire. You havepaid up the insurance and do not wish to pay any more, but you want torealize on the money already paid in. You will send for me to set afire. In my manner I will develop a fire in an instant. When theinsurance company pays you the money you pay me a percentage.'
"'Then perhaps you were the one who set the big fire in MulberryStreet where so many poor people were burned?'
"'No!' came the quick response. 'I do not set fire to make accidentshappen. That fire was engineered by a Neapolitan band that were inaccord with the proprietor of the dry goods store underneath. They didnot work it right because they started the fire from the side of thestore and afterwards put explosives on the stairs so that no tracewould be left. If I had had that job there would have been no trace totell the story, and the damage would have been done from the storedoor. There would not have been so many accidents and the familieswould have had time to run into the yard.'
"'How can you guarantee all this? And what explosive matter do you useto start a fire?' I inquired.
"'Glycerine,' mumbled the bandit. 'I mix it with other matters. Itdoes not smell and leaves no trace of the fire.'
"'And do you go alone on these jobs?'
"'No. You always need three or four men. I direct them and they bringthe material. I pay each man five dollars a night.'
"'And these helpers, do they make much money?'
"'Quite some--now and then. They risk their hides. But it is notsteady work, you know; only on occasions.'
"The train arrived at the station and Cecala indicated a seat separatefrom him so as not to invite suspicion. At Houston Street he signalledfor me to get off, and when in the street he asked me where my auntlived. When I told him in Bleecker Street he said: 'I will accompanyyou. Let us go to a drug store near by first. I must ask something.'
"We went to Spring Street and entered a drug store with a sign overthe door spelling the name of 'Antonio Mocito.' Cecala asked a boy inthe store where the druggist might be and the boy replied that he wasout. Cecala told the boy to inform the druggist that he, Cecala, hadbeen there and to prepare 'that matter.'
"'I put this druggist right!' boasted Cecala in a low voice. 'He had adrug store and did a little business. I suggested to him that heinsure the store against fire. After he had paid up for a littlewhile, I put fire to it and the company paid him three thousanddollars with which he put up this new store. So you see, he wassaved!'
"On the way to my aunt's house Cecala made many suggestions to mewarning me that I was to tell my aunt nothing. He told me to meet himat his home at six o'clock the next morning. This was at 6 P. M.
"I leave it to the reader's imagination to picture the condition ofmind I was in after learning of the kind of 'gentlemen' I was obligedto deal with. I had been caught in a trap set by a band ofincendiaries and Black-Handers enjoying police protection. What goodwould it have done me to go to the police about it? What could anybodyin my position do under the circumstances? I thought it would bebetter to keep silent and save my life until I had occasion todenounce the gang. I was secretly awaiting this opportunity withouttheir knowledge. Then, again, how could I proceed against them withoutwitnesses?
"The thought that afflicted me with most concern was the fate of thelady. I realized that her consent to my desire had caused her to bemixed up with bad people. I also realized that if we were discoveredby the police, Caterina and I would be the only ones to sufferbecause we were alone and without any help from any one and penniless.
"I summoned all the courage I could muster. I always appeared to becontented with the orders that were given me, and I executed themwithout finding the least objection.
"I was daily afflicted by the life I was leading, and was continuallydisturbed in my mind because I saw that I had not one penny, and whenI asked for money I was bluntly refused. It also worried me to thinkthat my family believed I was working and making money without sendingany home. Time and again I planned to run away, but how? Where would Igo? I would have to abandon all my things and be left out in thestreet. And who would help me? A penniless stranger.
"On the morning of February 5, 1909, it was snowing and very cold whenI went to the home of Cecala at the appointed hour. He invited me tosit down and his wife served me with coffee. I saw his five children,quite sympathetic children, three girls and two boys. In looking atthem I was seized by remorse to think that these innocent children asthe offspring of a criminal would probably be converted into criminalsalso in time. Cecala told me brusquely that we would have to leave onthe ten o'clock train in spite of the snow.
"'When we arrive at Highland there will be no one about the station,and we will arouse no suspicion,' explained Cecala.
"'Have you found the man to prepare the ink?' I asked.
"'Yes. He is coming with us. Here is a dollar. Go to your aunt andmeet us at the Grand Central Station. I am going to Don Piddu's(Morello's) to get other inks that were bought last night. But nowthat I think about it, meet me at the Brooklyn Bridge and you will buysome green ink, because they would not sell it to me. Say you are aprinter and refer them to the shop where you were working.'
"'And if they object, what shall I reply?'
"'I will understand.'
"'And what kind of ink is it necessary to buy?'
"'The kind we need are marked in the catalogue.'
"'And who has marked them?'
"'A professor who has done other work for me and is very practical athis work. If necessary, he will come and work together with you.'
"Cecala took me to a store on Rose Street where he employed signlanguage to explain the kind of ink he wanted. A young lady askedquestions in English which I could not answer. Cecala then interruptedand tried to act as interpreter. I was confused for a moment. Then Itook out a bill head with my name on it which I had used while I actedas solicitor for work in an Italian printing shop in Mott Street. Theyoung lady read it, and after about twenty minutes she returned,giving me three cans of ink and the bill, which Cecala paid.
"Cecala now directed me to go to my aunt's place before meeting him atthe Grand Central Station in time for the ten o'clock train. There Imet the man who was to assist me in printing the counterfeit bills.The reader may now appreciate the sagacity of Cecala in leaving meafter coming out of the ink store. It gave him the advantage to meetthe mysterious man who was to help in the mixing of the inks, and italso gave him a chance to throw anybody off the trail if there weredetectives following.
"A
t the Grand Central Station we met the man with the camera. Cecalabought three tickets for Poughkeepsie. Arriving there we found Cinawaiting for us with a closed carriage. He drove to another station andthen to a ferry where we went across the river to Highland and fromthere to the clandestine factory. Supper was waiting for us there, andwe rested till the next morning to start work. During the evening,Cecala, Cina, Uncle Vincent and the other man played cards whileBernardo and I chopped wood for the stove.
"On the morning of February 6, 1909, we got the press ready. The manwhose name I had not yet been given mixed the ink. After taking someproofs the right shade of green was developed. The unnamed man thenexplained to me that by mixing black and yellow I would obtain anolive green, and by mixing this color with the clear green in the canswhich were brought up from New York, the right shade of green, justlike the genuine money color, would be obtained. He explained this sothat I could mix up more in case the ink he had mixed would not besufficient to print the ten thousand sheets of the two-dollar bills,which would make twenty thousand dollars in counterfeit money. Thenhe measured the genuine note and marked where the seal was to beprinted. He also prepared the blue shade of ink for this impression.He advised me to pay close attention to the black.
"We were alone in the room while he was instructing me, and I told himthat I had little faith in Cecala and his companions because they didnot give me any money, and made me remain without a penny after havingworked a long time. He told me that I ought to be contented, for I wasdealing with gentlemen. In olden times, he said, men in that line ofwork, when the work had been done, would _assassinate_ the one doingthe very work I was doing. _The man was murdered_, he explained to me,_so that the counterfeiters would not be discovered_ and the secretrevealed to the police.
"'Is there any danger of my being assassinated after completing thiswork?' I asked.
"'No,' he said, 'there is no danger. You are dealing with goodpeople.'
"After he was through with his work he wanted to see how the printingprogressed and how many an hour were struck off. He was trying tofigure whether the work could be completed in fifteen days.
"We worked at the press until about 4 P. M., when there were overthree thousand sheets printed on one side. This progress seemed tosatisfy the photographer and ink mixer. At about 4:30 P. M., Cina,Cecala and Bernardo went away with the stranger, leaving Uncle Vincentbehind with me. Before leaving, Cecala said that Giglio would comenext morning to help and, if necessary, Bernardo would return also.Cecala said that when the green side of the printing was completed,and I saw that a change in the ink was necessary, I was to leave theplant and meet him in New York. Hereupon Uncle Vincent declared thatit was necessary to have Bernardo present in order that some one couldbe watching outside the stone house and keep an eye out for strangers.Cecala consented, and Bernardo remained with us to do sentinel duty.Next morning Giglio came, and he and Uncle Vincent and myself workedon without interruption. Bernardo, armed with a revolver and a rifle,remained on the outside, having received orders from Uncle Vincent tofire a shot into the air in the event of strangers appearing. Thiswas to be the signal for us.
"On February 9, 1909, the press was ready for the seal. In the morningCina handed me a note from Cecala and a letter from my aunt. Cecala'snote requested me to remain in the house and not come to New York ifthere was no urgent need of it. My aunt's note informed me that mybrother was about to be operated upon. I lost no time getting into mystreet clothes. I prevailed on Cina to show me the way to the station,where I boarded a train for New York.
"My first move was to see Cecala and get some money from him, but Idid not find him at his home. Then I went to Morello's home in OneHundred and Thirty-eighth Street. Mrs. Morello told me that herhusband was not at home, nor did she seem to know where Cecala couldbe found. I hurried to my brother's house, got there just as he wasbeing removed in an ambulance to the Italian Hospital in HoustonStreet. I was without a penny and felt very miserable to think that Icould not help at this moment.
"After going with my brother to the hospital I went to Cecala's house.He seemed much surprised that I should have come to New York withoutfirst consulting him. However, when I explained the circumstances,Cecala approved of my action, but said that he had no money, only twodollars for the return fare. He assured me, though, that he would seeto it that my brother was put in a private ward. This would be an easymatter, Cecala said, because he was well acquainted with several ofthe doctors at the Italian Hospital. He advised me to leave for theplant as soon as possible, saying that he had many requests for thecounterfeit money and the customers were waiting for him to fill theorders.
"I was always obedient to the orders of the gang, and so after goingto my brother's house and trying to console his wife by assuring herthat I had arranged to have a private room for him at the hospital, Ileft for Highland on the 11:40 P. M. train. It was very cold when Iarrived at the little station on the Hudson, and I was almost frozenstiff trying to find Cina's house in the darkness. I stopped at Cina'shouse until the next morning when I was taken in his wagon to thestone house."