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With His Hearty "Hi-yo Silver" |
As
a young boy growing up in Connecticut, I tore
through
the neighborhood with a holstered cap pistol on my hip, playing cowboys like
every other kid on the block. My
favorites, Hopalong Cassidy, the masked Lone Ranger, and Roy Rogers, rode in
from the TV screen wearing white hats, dispensing noble justice to become my
superheroes. What we didn’t realize back
then was that, not long before, even the so-called “bad guys” had their turn
wearing white hats—at least for a moment.
Years later, after watching all 86 episodes of The Sopranos, I began to understand how layered and nuanced the world of “bad guys” could be. Morality wasn’t a straight line but more like a seesaw. There were gradations of villainy, shades of gray on a spectrum most of us assumed was strictly black and white. Dante himself imagined nine levels in the inferno of Hell to account for the complexity of human sin. Why not television?
Tony Soprano, the Italian-American mob boss at the center of the show, often seemed to teeter on
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'Good Guy' Paolo with Sister |
this seesaw of morality. He was ruthless one moment, oddly endearing the next. Despite his violent profession, you could almost root for him as he tried awkwardly, sometimes sincerely, to reconcile his role as a father and husband with his life as a mafia capo, entangled in a world of strict codes, unspeakable crimes, and tangled loyalties. [2]
Like
many real-life mobsters, Tony lived by a code that put the Cosa
Nostra above all else. [2]
And yet, history holds an odd footnote: during World War II, some of
America’s most notorious criminals aided the US war effort—at home and
abroad—in one of the most unlikely alliances between the Italian-American Mafia
and the US Government.
On a sunlit afternoon in Malta, Maria Elena and I wandered the Barrakka Gardens, once the exclusive haunt of the Knights of St. John. We paused
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Strolling the Barrakka Gardens, Valletta, Malta |
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Booming Cannon Salute |
the coast of Sicily, prepared for the largest amphibious invasion yet attempted in World War II.
Inside the Lascaris labyrinth, generals and strategists had pored over maps as battle plans were drawn. Among the usual wartime memorabilia and charts, one poster stopped me cold: Was this Charles “Lucky” Luciano, America’s infamous emperor of vice? What on earth was he doing here? At first, I thought I was mistaken; surely it couldn’t be Luciano. I was wrong. Reading it, of all people, of all places, I was introduced to this nefarious mob boss and, to our surprise, once a quiet asset of the United States Government. His
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Maria Elena Entering the |
The answer began in February 1942, when the pride of the French fleet, SS Normandie, caught fire and capsized at Manhattan’s Pier 88. [3] Had it really been an accidental fire sparked by a torch, or was that a cover story? The cause was never proved. Overnight, whispers of Nazi infiltration and sabotage swept the docks. The loss was a shocking disaster: captured from the Vichy French Government, the ship could have carried 10,000 troops across the Atlantic in four days, but now lay on her side in the Hudson River, a twisted, smoking carcass. Rumors of Nazi sabotage along US eastern ports quickly spread. Had someone on the docks fed the Nazis information? Only the mob that controlled the docks had the
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A Stratling Discovery |
The United States Navy, specifically the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI), had few ways to police the sprawling New York waterfront, let alone the entire eastern seaboard. But one organization did: the Italian-American Mafia.[1] To secure the docks from further losses, the ONI, which held strong reservations about an alliance with the Mafia, was ordered to secretly team with the NYC Mafia, organized crime of Italian and Sicilian heritage, to help secure the docks. The Mafia represented the most antifascist organization in the world, but in this strange mix, could such a notorious criminal organization be trusted? [1] Likewise, would organized
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Gallery Overlooking Lascaris Plotting |
It was a cautious beginning. Luciano was leery of cooperating and initially hesitated. The Navy hadn’t offered a reduction in his sentence, and as an illegal alien, the mobster faced deportation. Despite these realities, his grip on power was slipping. To his advantage, the proposal provided him with cover to communicate with his lieutenants and maintain power. True to his nickname, “Lucky,” he emerged as the Mafia point man after the Navy quietly held meetings with the underworld boss. It was a gamble. With a possibility of winning more than losing, Lucky took
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Charles 'Lucky' Lucino |
From
exile at Great Meadow Penitentiary, Lucky tapped Meyer
Lansky, known as “The Little Man,” a Jewish mobster, patriot, and fierce
opponent of fascism. As a staunch
Zionist and extremely patriotic American, he’d oversee the entire operation as
Lucky’s eyes, ears, and mouth on the outside. Long before the declaration of war, Lansky
already had a history of roughing up the pro-Nazi German-American Bund, sending
his men to break up rallies and to battle brownshirt sympathizers in Manhattan
streets. [3]
Lansky’s strong hand quickly solved the problem for the Navy on the waterfront by the visible deployment of some of the most ruthless gangsters in the city. [1] From 1942 onward, mob heavies came and went from the Navy’s suites in New York’s elegant Astoria Hotel. [3] From there, mob intermediaries relayed orders from Naval Intelligence to the gangsters controlling the longshoremen’s unions to carry out anti-Axis missions.
Their influence over the longshoremen’s unions
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Project Underworld Headquarters, |
This cooperative effort of strange bedfellows remained hush-hush
until 1977, when William Herland’s Investigative Report, disclosing long-suppressed
information, was uncovered in Governor Thomas Dewey’s archives in 1954. The report summarized testimony that detailed
the Navy’s involvement in “Project Underworld.” [4] Adding to the surprise was the breadth of the
operation.
At
the Casablanca Conference, convened on January 14, 1943, at
the Anfa Hotel in Morocco, the Allies set their sights on Sicily following their
victory in North Africa. [3] Project
Underworld, which began as an intelligence effort limited to the American
home front, was radically altered when a secret US Joint Chiefs directive was
issued on April 15, 1943, and explicitly recommended:
“Establishment of contact and
communications with the leaders of separatist nuclei, disaffected workers, and
clandestine radical groups, e.g., the Mafia, and giving them every possible
aid.” [5]
This marked a formal US
policy alignment with clandestine Sicilian actors, including Mafia figures, to
undermine fascism and limit civil resistance in Sicily.
The machinery of Project Underworld quickly pivoted toward this new strategic
goal, the support of Operation Husky.
F-Target Section, a group dedicated to gathering data on the invasion
zone in the Lascaris War Room complex, was formed. Lucky loved the idea. The Mafia could be especially useful to Allied
planners faced with the daunting challenge of invading Europe through its Sicilian
underbelly. Though still imprisoned, Luciano’s
narcotics smuggling network, which extended across the Atlantic and had close
ties with the Sicilians, was harnessed. [3] Soon, shadowy American Mafia figures were
tasked with helping shape the Sicilian battlefield. Once Sicily was rid of the Nazi occupiers, the
Mafia would provide contacts to help establish an Allied Military Government.
The US Navy lacked the needed intelligence on Sicily. Long considered an area primarily under British surveillance, the Navy lacked even the most
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A Local Sicilian Shows the Way |
Lucky
volunteered to lead the Mafia resistance and offered
his services, suggesting he was prepared “to be parachuted onto the island.” The High Command vetoed that idea, reasoning
that the release of an arch criminal could be a public relations nightmare. [3]
While the mafiosi were willing to fight,
the speed of the competitive race between Patton and Montgomery to be the first
to enter Messina, as well as the haste of the Nazi retreat, exceeded all
expectations. Fortunately, while
partisans participated in some skirmishes, a guerrilla army was not needed. Still, Luciano and his associates arranged
for trusted Sicilian-American contacts to work with Naval Intelligence and the
OSS.
As
a result, hundreds of Sicilian-Italians were hauled into the
Astoria headquarters. “Little Man
Lansky” later remarked that some of the Sicilians were very reluctant to cooperate
with the Navy until Luciano’s name was dropped.
The interviewer would stop smiling and say, ‘Lucky will not be pleased
to hear that you have not been helpful.’ Typical Mafia tactics, such as threats, were also
effective. At that point, information on
Sicily began to pour in. As the Sicilian
D-Day drew closer, coastal photos and harbor sketches made their way into the
hands of Allied cartographers on Malta. An
enormous, four-by-six-foot map of Sicily with a transparent plastic overlay
detailing strategic points such as airfields, naval bases, and power plants was
created from this flood of information. [3]
From dockside mobsters to men in the Sicilian hills, messages were relayed. Lists of pro-Allied civilians and known Fascist sympathizers were passed quietly from one trusted hand to another. The Mafia’s assistance in the preparation of the invasion, from aiding in the mapping of Sicily to supplying pathfinders, effectively contributed to the success of Operation Husky. On one side of the Atlantic, Luciano, incarcerated and the ‘Little Man,’ stood out. In Sicily, another longtime capo was free to
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Invasion of Sicily Landing Areas |
A key contact at the Sicilian end of this network was Calogero Vizzini, also known as “Don Calò”. He was one of the island’s most powerful and feared Mafia bosses, as opposed to his two brothers, who decided to be priests. Legend has it that days before American troops landed at Gela and Licata, a scarf marked with an “L” for Luciano was airdropped near Don Calò’s farm as a tip-off of the invasion. While the story of the scarf remains folklore, the results were real. As American troops advanced inland from the beaches, they met little to no resistance in towns like Villalba and Mussomeli. In some cases, local guides later claiming to be Mafiosi steered them through twisting roads and urged civilians not to resist.
After the Mussolini regime and Nazis fled Sicily, the Allies needed
local administrators to fill legislative spots in individual cities and towns. [2]
Intentionally or not, America traded
Fascist brutality for Mafia influence as the Allied Military Government of
Occupied Territories installed Mafiosi in administrative roles. These decisions ultimately reshaped local
power dynamics, fueling a postwar Mafia revival. Seizing the opportunity as effortlessly as a
chameleon changes its spots, Don Calò could flip
his allegiance to whichever power benefited his interests. With the Americans in ascendance, it would be
as easy as changing a framed wall picture of Mussolini to one of Roosevelt or
Eisenhower, if not both. In Villalba, Don
Calò was crowned mayor because of his staunch opposition to Fascist ideals, despite
having aided Mussolini's rise to power years earlier. He proved to be a cheery and popular mayor, greatly
admired by the citizens, while maintaining a casual engagement in Mafia
activities and displaying the notion that in war, yesterday’s enemy can be
today’s ally.
At war's end, the Navy burned all evidence of the Mafia’s cooperation. [3] What could Lucky expect from his collaboration? What was in it for him? A medal? On May 8, 1945, the day of the Allied victory in Europe, V-E Day, Lucky requested executive clemency. [4] Eight months later, on Jan. 3, 1946, Governor Thomas Dewey quietly commuted his sentence to the nearly ten years he’d already served “in recognition of his services to the Navy". Instead of living out his days behind bars, Lucky was deported to Italy six days later, where he remained under surveillance. Never quite free in light of his wartime cooperation, the US Department of Justice and Italian authorities continued to investigate his activities, particularly regarding suspected involvement in narcotics smuggling. Government agents in the US and Italy followed him for years. Still, despite their efforts, no narcotics case was successfully made against him. Meanwhile, Don Calò, once hunted by Mussolini’s Blackshirts, now shook hands with Allied officers and became a symbol of the Mafia’s resurgence in post-Fascist Sicily.
eased the occupation of Sicily, justified the deal.
Back in my Connecticut childhood, the men in white hats were clean-shaven, quick to help the needy, and always on the side of justice. In 1943, on
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The Lone Ranger's White Hat |
From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo
[1]
Project Underworld, https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/article/project-underworld-the-u-s-navys-secret-pact-with-the-mafia/
[2] How the Mafia Works,
https://people.howstuffworks.com/mafia.htm
[3] Project
Underworld Enlisted the Help of Organized Crime to Fight the Axis, Article by
Gregory Peduto, November 2009 Archives, Warfare History Network, https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/issue/wwii-history-november-2009-issue/
[4] Secret
Report Sites Luciano on War Aid, New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/1977/10/09/archives/secret-report-cites-luciano-on-war-aid-book-based-on-a-54-study.html
[5] Collaborations between the United States government and Italian Mafia ,https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Collaborations_between_the_United_States_government_and_Italian_Mafia
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