Picciarelli Patrick - Hollywood godfather: my life in the movies and the mob

I dont visit the old neighborhood as often as I used to. While it occasionally brought back some unpleasant memories, I had my share of enjoyable recollections, too. Its those nostalgic remembrances that draw me back, but these days not too frequently.

Manhattans Little Italy was different back then; Im talking sixty-five years ago, when Little Italy was composed ofsurpriseItalians! Today the neighborhood has diversified, predominantly because of an influx of Asians. Chinatown and Little Italy always shared a common border, with the ethnic Chinese encroaching into the Italian neighborhood as years went on.

Eventually Chinese nationals from the Peoples Republic began fleeing their homeland in record numbers with the help of professional human smugglers, called snakeheads. These illegals, unable to speak Englishmuch like the Italian immigrants from the previous centurymixed in among the Italians and were later joined by Vietnamese refugees after the war. By the 1970s, Little Italy was getting squeezed, with young Italians leaving the hundred-year-old Italian sanctuary for the greener pastures of the outer boroughs. The neighborhood shrank from a ten-block-square area to less than three square blocks. The Little Italy of my youth is now Minuscule Italy.

My name is Gianni Russo. Youll be reading about my family, how I was separated from them at a tender age, and how I came to lead a life that I could never have imagined.

In the 1950s, I was like every other kid in Little Italy, anonymous and oblivious of what lay north of Houston Street. Mine was an insular world of old-school Italians, most of who arrived in America with grandiose dreams of striking it rich in the country where the streets were paved with gold and riches waited for all those willing to work hard. It turned out that the streets were paved with cobblestones, and most immigrants never left the neighborhood, instead scratching out a living for pennies, or making names for themselves in the emerging American Mafia.

Im not anonymous anymore. Im most recognized as an actor, having had a feature role in The Godfather and numerous other films and television shows, but Ive also been behind the scenes as a writer and producer of countless others. My other life, as a Mafia associate, spans over sixty years, but Ive also done well in legitimate business.

Im recognized, and for an actor thats a good thing. But when I go down to the old neighborhood, Id rather walk the streets and blend into the crowd.

The Little Italy of my youth eventually became a tourist mecca, with suburbanites going downtown for a genuine Italian experience. While they are nothing newtourists have been going to this part of town for as long as anyone can remembermost of the old restaurants they visited are generally gone, taken over by non-Italians preparing Italian cuisine without the warmth of the mom-and-pop joints I remember so well.

Its a sunny autumn day and I find myself on Mulberry Street, which runs through the heart of Little Italy. I stop momentarily at number 247, the Ravenite Social Club, as notorious a hangout as ever existed anywhere in the country. It was here that gangster John Gotti was welcomed like a conquering Caesar shortly after Gambino crime family boss Big Paul Castellano was gunned down in midtown Manhattan. It was Gotti who had given the execution order, and then assumed command of the largest Mafia family in the United States. It was also Gotti who ran the family into the ground a few short years later, and weakened the mob beyond repair by his inability to recognize that the Mafia was a secret organization. Gotti never met a reporter he didnt like, and the mob paid the price for his love of the spotlight. I knew Gotti very well, although Id rather that I hadnt, but thats a story Ill share later.

Tourists flock past me, bumping my shoulder, excusing themselves, while I stare at the facade of the old Ravenite, whose doorway I walked through many times, always under the watchful eye of a platoon of federal agents filming everyone for posterityand possible criminal prosecution.

That epicenter of the American Mafia is now a shoe store. A floor once trod upon by handmade Italian footwear now sells sneakers. Gotti, surely burning in whatever kind of hell exists, must be wondering what became of La Cosa Nostrathis thing of ours. He ought to knowhis incompetent leadership was instrumental in getting the mob where it is today.

The street fragrances are what I miss most about the neighborhooda mlange of aromas emanating from a wide variety of ethnic Italian and Asian restaurants. The iconic Italian eateries that remain have moved to more spacious locales. La Luna, where a sequence from The Godfather was filmed, is now located across the street from the original site, and Umbertos Clam House, where notorious mobster Joey Gallo was murdered in front of his wife, made the move a few doors down the same street. While the food may still be top-notch, the historic ambience of the original locations was left behind. Tourists can no longer sit at the same table where Godfather mobster Clemenza stuffed his face while his driver waited patiently for him in the car, never realizing that hed never make it home that night because he had set up Don Corleone for assassination. What Godfather aficionado can forget Clemenza uttering the unforgettable words to the assassin in the backseat after the driver was dispatched, Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.

Mafia made men no longer hang out on the street looking tough and world-weary, absorbing the admiring glances of neighborhood women and teenage boys who, if things work their way, will join their ranks when they get older, instead of playing tough-guy roles by sporting ninety-mile-an-hour slicked-back hair and enough jewelry to sink a boat.

Its a calmer Little Italy these days; the electricity is gone, as are the old mafiosi, who are either dead or serving lengthy prison sentences. The row tenement where I lived is still there, a building that was old when McKinley was president, now subdivided into studio apartments renting for two thousand dollars a month.

The old dons, killers, and corrupt politicians are still very much alive in my memories, as are the iconic movie stars, celebrities, Popes, and presidents. Youll meet them.

This is my story.