Detroit evening times. (Detroit, Mich) 1921-1958, 1942-05-29
WOULD HIT VILLAGE

II was born in a little fishing
village in the north of Sicily. If
the boot that is Italy moved by
some miracle for II miles. it would
strike my village. But even you,
Antonio, have never heard of my
z home place. It is so small.
You told the judge that now. !
suppose. And what did he say ?
To come to the meat of the mat
ter? Very well. But there is
much meat. This murder of mine
was planted Is years ago.
1T was planted when this Vic
tor Scabonne came to our little
home and demanded money from
my father. My father was good
fisherman. He owned his own nets
and. almost his fishing boat. There
was not much left to pay the
banker, and then the boat would
be his.
Our house, too. was the best
of its kind. My mother is a good
housekeeper. When she was young
she was very beautiful. She is
still pretty.
Il know. I know. / am going
far back, but this is part of the
story. have come to the plant
ing. Next, I will come to the
growing of this plant that would
blossom into a killing and bring
me here.
He is impatient, the Judge
Then. / shall refuse to tell him
anything. Tell him so. What did
he say? To tell it my own way?
Good. II will not take long.
Thank his excellency for me. /
think he is a very intelligent man.
This Victor Scabonne, then,
was a Cammorist - what the
Americans call a member of the
Black Hand. That, you might say,
Is the root of the whole matter.
The root, the stalk, the flower.
The flower that was red-with
blood.
Il have heard them say here
that Mussolini has destroyed the
Black Hand in Sicily. That is not
true. That ass in lions skin has
destroyed nothing except Italy,
herself. But all this happened be-
fore Mussolini came into power.
YOUNG AND STRONG
My father was a young man.
And strong. And proud. He was
making good living in the fishing
In place where no one makes a
good living. And he was happy.
He had been married nine years.
He had my mother and me. No
other bambino. Only me.
Il remember my father. Not
dinly. as a child remembers, but
as If he were you, Antonio, stand
ing before me.
Il remember him, because in the
beginning. when they taught me
my prayers, / thought he was God.
When j knelt by the bed, or at my
mothers knee. and said, Our
Father Who are in Heaven I
would be puzzled. l would think
TO myself. How can my father be
IN Heaven p
lie look me with him fishing
] would wake up 10 feel myself be-
ing carried on his shoulder 10 the
boat. When they cast off. / would
stand there, Shivering in the cold
OF early morning.
And my father would say. Ho.
my bambino. you will be a better
fisherman than even me. / am
teaching you young
Il remember all these things -
viYdly. you understand, Antonio
because then ! was only s years
old, and yet my childhood was al
ready drawing 10 It's end. After
that which happened did happen.
there was no childhood left for me.
SO my father, this proud man
with a beautiful wife and a little
son, was very happy and very
proud and very brave. That is
why, when he found a piece Of
paper in the latch OF our door. he
read II and turned pale and then
red
What is it, my mother asked
and she was trembling.
II is nothing my father said.
just the threats of q fool.
Threats" my mother walled
'it is not fool. II is the Malta
You must pivc Thorn uybat thav