CHAPTER XV
SOME "AFTER-DINNER" CONFESSIONS
"One night in the month of April (1909) I was sitting with the bandits in the stone house and listening to their stories. Calichio, Sylvester, Giglio and Bernardo were there. Among other exploits Calichio remarked that he had once printed one million lire for a baronial family residing at Naples in Italy. This was about fifteen years back, he said, when his father was alive.
"Sylvester boasted that his first sentence was for five years in the reformatory as a minor. He ran away from the reformatory in company with several other boys and got into the horse-stealing business. He was sentenced several times for small offenses and he once was arrested for carrying concealed weapons.
"During his imprisonment he came to know a certain Terranova, who was a half-brother of Morello, and they became fast friends. They stole horses in New York and sold them in other cities at reduced prices; or they would bring the horses to friends in the country (Highland) and receive payment. He told of being arrested once when with Morello's son and brother; they had thrown a bomb into a store in Mott Street. They were let go because there were no witnesses to the crime. In concluding his recitation Sylvester said:
"'One night I went with the Morello brothers and other friends into a hall where a Jewish wedding was being celebrated. As we entered the hall we recognized two policemen who had helped us before in our jobs. Our idea was to steal watches. We succeeded in stealing about fifteen watches when a Jew I was robbing got onto me. He grabbed me by the coat and called the police. The policeman knew me and took my part. He pushed the Jew aside and told him to go away. The policeman said he knew me to be a fine young man for more than ten years. The policeman told the Jew he was lying and that if he said any more about the matter he would be put under arrest. The Jew was crest-fallen, but went on dancing all the same. As we came outside, I gave three watches to the policeman, two of silver and one of gold. I disposed of the others in New Jersey. We divided the proceeds equally among us.'
"Then Giglio made the boast that the police had never been able to arrest him. He had been in great danger, though, he said. One night in the winter of 1906 he went to Newburgh to steal a horse and carriage. While running away with the stolen property he was shot at twice. Neither bullet hit him, though, he said. Two months later the same horse and carriage were sold in Poughkeepsie for one hundred dollars.
"Bernardo had nothing to relate except the innocent amusement of having stolen fruit in his native town. The others grinned.
"On April 26th or 27th the second lot of Calichio's two-dollar notes were ready. They totalled fifteen thousand dollars and were wrapped up in rags. Giglio and Sylvester took them to New York.
"Calichio and I then renewed work on the five-dollar notes, which we figured on finishing about the middle of May, when a communication from New York made us stop again on the five-dollar notes, and we started on the third lot of Calichio's two-dollar notes. During the month of May, I, Calichio, Sylvester, Giglio and Bernardo all had a hand in the completion of this third lot of two-dollar notes, which amounted to $10,000; then, too, we finished up by the end of May $14,700 of the five-dollar notes. During this period Calichio received his wages punctually, but he did not let on to me.
"When the work had been completed I called Caterina aside and told her that I was going to New York and would not return to the stone house, as I did not intend to continue at that sort of work. In fact, I dismantled the press, piece by piece, took the genuine five-dollar note that was used for comparison, it being the original from which the plates were made, and said to Giglio:
"'Don Vincenzio, I am going to New York to seek rooms and will see Cecala there; I am going because, counting this last batch, I have printed about $60,000 and have received nothing for my labor.'
"'You deserve to have your head smashed on a rock,' was the cheerful reply. 'If the money is not yet sold, who will you see to get paid?'
"'Cecala.'
"'Cecala is not in New York. If he were, I certainly would bring him this last batch of money. We must wait until my brother-in-law comes.'
"'I don't care whether it is sold or not. I am in a miserable condition and will not remain here.'
"'Do as you like, but look out, though, if you do any harm there will not be a hair left of you.'
"'I want to go about my own business and do not care about others.' Thereupon, I took a suit-case with a few rags that I had left and went on foot to the Highland Railroad station where I changed the five-dollar bill and bought a ticket to New York. Arriving in the city I went directly to my aunt's, who was surprised to see me so poorly clad and in such a miserable condition. I told her that I had had a quarrel with my employer because he had not paid me.
"On June 2nd, while walking about my business, I met Cecala at Bleecker and Carmine Streets. He laughed at me, shook my hand, and inquired why I had not remained at the stone house in Highland and continued the work.
"'I could not continue,' I replied, 'because I was treated too shabbily there by the others. And why should I continue to work when no word had come to us from New York for more than two weeks?'
"'Well, Don Antonio,' said Cecala, 'I will fix all your affairs so that Caterina will remain in New York, for you and Don Peppe
must continue the work
. The man who made the plates has been working on another set of Canadian notes, not like the first that we printed, but of the same denomination, five dollars.'
"'Write and let Caterina come now,' I said. 'As to my doing more work for you, let's talk about that later.'
"'It is not necessary to write; I will telephone. Come with me.' From a drug store at Carmine and Bleecker Streets Cecala telephoned to Highland, or rather to Cina's house.
"Cina's wife said that her husband had gone with Ignazio (Lupo) to Newburgh and that she would tell him when he returned. Coming out of the drug store Cecala handed me ten dollars, saying:
"'Take this ten dollars and find rooms for yourself. I will provide for the rest later when Caterina comes to-morrow or the next day. Your things will arrive in a few days.' He told me to keep him advised. I could meet him at a barber shop in Carmine Street, he said.
"Not seeing anything of Caterina, on June 4th I wrote a letter to Cina at Highland, and requested him to send my things immediately and to give Caterina the money for her fare to New York.
"Cina received my letter and got the impression from it that I was going to tell the police, and he went right over to the stone house to ship my furniture.
"On the fifth of June, in the evening, Don Peppe (Calichio) came to my aunt's house and there told me that he had run away from the stone house with Caterina because they had threatened to kill him. He said that the threats were made by Sylvester, Giglio and Bernardo. Hearing this I hastened out on the stoop and saw Caterina all trembling. She said: 'I don't know how we escaped – Don Peppe and me.'
"'Why?'
"'Bernardo, Sylvester and Giglio wanted to kill us; and Bernardo had already got hold of a shovel to dig a hole.'
"'And who gave you the money for the fare?'
"'Lupo.'
"'How much did he give you?'
"'He gave ten dollars to Don Peppe in the presence of Cina, Uncle Vincent, and the other men, whom I do not know, and he gave me five dollars.'
"'Well,' I said, 'to-night you will sleep at my brother's home, and do not tell him any stories nor let him understand the circumstances of our trouble. To-morrow I will find a house. Cecala gave me ten dollars the other day.'
"I thanked Calichio for getting Caterina out of the stone house to New York, and then went away leaving Caterina at the home of my brother."
CHAPTER XVI
EVADING THE GANG IN VAIN
"On June 6th I rented some rooms at No. 171 Thompson Street and paid for a month in advance. I then went to the barber shop to find Cecala. I told him of hiring the rooms and that I needed a deposit to have the gas turned on. He told me that he would look out for everything in a day or so when he had the time. He showed a receipt for my goods, which had been shipped from Highland the day before and which would soon arrive, he said. He gave me five dollars with which to pay the charges on my furniture when it would arrive. When I asked him how I was to get food, he handed me a card and said that I was to go to the address and say that he sent me and that provisions would be furnished me. On the card was D. Milone, No. 235 East Ninety-seventh Street.
"'Will I get what I want there?'
"'Certainly,' Cecala said. 'Just mention my name and all will be well with you there.'
"After arranging with an express company to have my goods taken from the dock to the Thompson Street rooms, I went to the Milone address and asked for Cecala.
"'Who is this Cecala?' inquired a short man of ruddy complexion and stout face.
"'Why, don't you know him?' I asked. 'He gave me this address where I was to come and buy groceries.'
"'Have you inquired in the bank downstairs?'
"'No.'
"'Go and see.'
"I went down to the bank of one De Luca and found a barrel containing groceries addressed to Luigi Cosentino. This I had brought to my rooms in Thompson Street.
"'You must pay sixty cents,' said the banker, 'right away.' And Cecala paid the money for me.
"Going upstairs again Cecala said in the presence of Giglio and Sylvester:
"'Don Antonio, we must continue the work. Not in that place (the stone house), but in another farm that has been rented by Giglio and that is very far from Highland. We will not work any more with the same press because it is not very good as to impression. We must buy a new press, which Calichio is negotiating for now, a new model.'
"'I will not come again,' I replied, 'because I have found work as a compositor and I am to go to work to-morrow.'
"'Don't begin to make trouble. You know all our secrets now and we can't let you go.'
"'But why don't you let Calichio continue the work?'
"'Calichio is no good at the press. You know of what he is capable.'
"'I cannot go,' I repeated.
"'Listen, Don Antonio, I promise you that you will not work much. Print at least the other ten-thousand sheets of paper for two-dollar notes and the work will be completed. Then we will suspend operations for the summer, and will begin again in the Fall.'
"'Mr. Cecala, I will return to print the paper that is left, but you must give me, at the beginning of August, $400 because I want to return to Italy; then I will come back to New York in November. Are you satisfied?'
"'Have no doubts as to that. By the first two weeks of August I will give you $500 and not $400, because by that time I will have sold all the money. But will you return to America?'
"'Yes, because I am going to Italy only to arrange family affairs.'
"Calichio now arrived and said that he had found the party who wanted to sell the press, and he suggested that I go and see the man. At this juncture Giglio interrupted to say that the press, which we had been using, had been broken up and thrown into the woods on the farm that had just been rented in his name for the new location of the plant.
"'But,' put in Calichio, 'is that farm a place that is at all likely to be suspected?'
"'Certainly not,' said Giglio, 'it is far from Highland, about three hours over the road, and is situated on the Hudson River. It is a frame house standing by itself so that in working there will be no noise heard by neighbors. And there is no road where people pass by the house.'
"'You mean,' Cecala interrupted, 'that you can work without fear of being disturbed?'
"'Not even the flies will disturb us.'
"'Good,' said Cecala, turning to me. 'Go and see this Riso (the pressman) and see if he really wants to sell the press.'
"'Why should I go and not some one else?'
"'You are of the trade and know whether there are any defects.'
"'And if he asks me who I am, what shall I answer?'
"'Tell him you are Cosentino and have a shop on One Hundred and Fortieth Street.'
"'Why don't you come with me?'
"'No,' said Cecala, 'I will wait here.'
"'It would be better that you come along. Two heads are better than one.'
"Cecala was persuaded and together we went to the printing shop to look over the presses. Riso, the pressman, said that he wanted to sell the press because he had not enough work to keep it occupied and was short fifty dollars to pay off the mortgage. He explained that in order to sell it he must first get permission from the factory people, who held the mortgage. He bought it about eight months previously.
"A price of $85 was agreed to.
"'But,' queried Riso, 'what do you need the press for?'
"'For a printing shop,' I replied.
"'And have you a shop now?'
"'Yes.'
"'Where?'
"I gave him the One Hundred and Fortieth Street address suggested by Cecala before we entered the printing shop.
"Riso assured me that the press was first class and would turn out fine work.
"On June 10th, the next day, the press was paid for and carted off in a covered wagon. I had taken the press apart without arousing suspicion that it was to be taken on a long journey. The parts were taken off because of the danger of leaving them on the press body while in shipment. On the sides of the closed wagon was the name of Antonio Armato, Bakery. The man who drove it was introduced to me by Giglio as his godfather. Giglio explained that the press was to be carted on godfather's wagon because he had been unable to get an express wagon at the moment.
"In order to keep up the bluff before Riso I said to Giglio:
"'Well, it is just as well. You know where my shop is and can have this man take the press there. I will remain downtown and attend to other matters while you take the press uptown.' Cecala squinted at me admiringly.
"On the 13th of June Cecala informed me that I was to be ready to go to Highland at six o'clock the next morning. I was to go to Cina's house and remain there a day, he said, and then I would be taken to the new farm. He told me that the press had been shipped and taken to the house by Sylvester, who had returned to New York. Cecala also said that he had given Calichio ten dollars with which to pay the fares and that I was to meet Don Peppe (Calichio) at his Jones Street house early the next morning and then board the train in company with him. Money would be forwarded to me as soon as I reached Highland; Cecala had none with him at the present.
"'I hope you will not treat me as you did before,' I said. 'Promise to pay and not pay.'
"'Have no doubt. I will take in $200 to-night from a man in Brooklyn, and will send you ten dollars by Giglio.'
"Cecala said Giglio was in New York then at the house of his (Giglio's) brother-in-law in Jackson Street. This brother-in-law had married one of Cina's sisters, but he knew nothing about the counterfeiting scheme.
"At five o'clock in the morning of June 14th I went to Calichio's house and found him packing a suit-case with inks and plates. One of the sets I remember was the Bank of Montreal design with a baby on the green side, marvelously clear zinc plates. Calichio told me they were to be used for making the new Canadian five-dollar notes.
"'When are they to be printed?' I asked.
"'When we get to the new farm.'
"I told Calichio that I certainly would not print any of them at this season and he suggested that they probably were to be printed in November. He said:
"'They will probably be printed in November, at the beginning of the winter season, for now the waters are troubled. The police is making arrests daily.'
"He placed the plates in the suit-case and together we went to Weehawken Ferry and arrived in Highland at 11 A. M. There found Peppino waiting for us at the station with a carriage. He drove to his brother's house (Cina's). There we found Uncle Vincent and Bernardo, the others having gone to Poughkeepsie on business and left word that they would return by evening. After lunch I played with Cina's children while Calichio, Uncle Vincent, Bernardo and Peppino locked themselves into a room for a conference. About 8 P. M. Salvatore Cina returned from Poughkeepsie with Sylvester and immediately ordered his brother to prepare the horse and carriage and take us to the 'Third' farm."
CHAPTER XVII
CAUGHT AGAIN!
"About two o'clock in the morning we arrived, Calichio, Bernardo, Sylvester, Peppino and Cina, at the 'Third' farm. Peppino returned immediately from the 'Third' farm to Cina's house. The four of us who remained slept on straw, there being no mattresses. About three o'clock the next afternoon Cina brought us some mattresses, pillows and covers; some food-stuffs and ten quarts of wine. Cina remarked that this was a splendid place, and that no one could disturb us there. He gave the following orders:
"Calichio and I were to remain in the house and work. Uncle Vincent would watch along the railroad track to see if any strangers came near. About noontime, Uncle Vincent would come in and do the cooking; then Bernardo, armed with revolver and rifle, was to do his turn and guard the farm. He was to be helped in this by Giglio and Sylvester whenever they were about. Cina said that if Calichio or I wanted to have our mail addressed to us we must tell our folks and friends to send it to 20 Duane Street, Poughkeepsie, where Uncle Turi (the well-dressed man referred to before in this story) had opened a grocery store. Cina assured me that news would be brought to us daily from the outside and that a horse and carriage had been brought for the express purpose of going to and from Poughkeepsie and bringing groceries.
"Calichio made the press ready and we began work on the fourth batch of the two-dollar notes. There was no interruption all that day but, on the next morning, June 17th (1909), Calichio declared he wanted to leave for New York because he had had a bad dream during the night and there was news from his family.
"Bernardo accompanied Calichio to the station and I and Uncle Vincent remained alone, walking about the grounds in front of the house.
"About 11 A. M. Uncle Vincent was preparing macaroni for the noonday lunch when two well-dressed men and prosperous appearing, driving a horse and carriage, stopped in front of the house. One man was about fifty, the other about thirty. They tied the horse to a tree and came over to me, addressing me in English.
"'Are you Italian?'
"'Yes,' I replied.
"'Have you rented this farm?'
"'No.'
"'Who is the owner?'
"'A man named Giglio.'
"'Where can I see this Giglio?'
"'In New York. His wife is sick,' replied Uncle Vincent.
"'When does he return?'
"'We don't know.'
"'We had come to buy this farm and would like to look inside. Will you permit us to enter and see?'
"'No,' was Uncle Vincent's instant answer. 'We are not the proprietors and are here to guard the fruit. Return some other day when Giglio is here and he will give you permission.'
"The men assured us that they would get the permission to enter the house and drove away. When they were gone Uncle Vincent with a pale face said to me:
"'Don Antonio, I feel sure these men are detectives. Should they return there will be others with them and they will arrest us. In case we fall like mice in a trap don't say who you know. Otherwise we are all ruined. If they find the press we must insist that we found it in the house, and don't know to whom it belongs. Let us go and burn what was printed yesterday in order to avoid suspicion.'
"'I am not going back,' I answered. 'I am going through the woods to the railroad tracks to the station and then back to New York.'
"'If you go away I will not let any one come near the house. And if those two men return I will kill them.'
"'Do as you like,' I replied. So saying I took my hat and jumper and walked along the railroad tracks for about an hour until I came to the Highland station.
"I was peacefully at home in Thompson Street on June 20th when Cecala, Cina and Sylvester arrived. As soon as Cecala saw me he said:
"'You were very much afraid. You must not be so frightened. The people who came to the farm were men of a good sort and not detectives. But you did well in not letting them enter the house.'
"'Since I am away,' I replied to Cecala, 'do not talk of continuing the work. I will not return. I don't care to fall into a trap alone, and you all out of it.'
"'Better if we remain out. We can help you.'
"'Bother the help. Leave me in peace. I want to attend to my own affairs and be at rest.'
"'No. Now that we have started to print we must finish the paper that is left unprinted.'
"'I will not return to the farm. Make Calichio continue the work.'
"'
You must return and complete the work
,' said Cina with arrogance.
"After about five minutes of silence Cina again did the talking. He said:
"'Very well, we will not return to that farm but in order to have you content we will draw up a contract and you will appear as Luigi Cosentino, the proprietor of the second farm. Then you may return and continue the work without danger. I will telephone to-night and have the press brought to the stone house. The people nearby the stone house have seen you before, and when I tell them that the place is now yours they will not have any suspicion.'
"'I want to find work here in the city. I have worked for you for seven months and have received only forty dollars in all for it.'
"'Well,' said Cecala, 'but I will give you five hundred dollars as soon as you have finished this last job. Is that satisfactory?'
"'Surely.'
"I figured that if I got the five hundred dollars I could return to Italy and not have any more bother, and so I consented to go back and complete the work. Cecala and Cina went with me to a notary public in Elizabeth Street and a contract or lease of the second farm was drawn up. I appeared and signed as Luigi Cosentino. The person from whom I rented the farm was one whom I had never seen before. He was called Salvatore Galasso. The notary gave a copy of the paper to me and another to Galasso, and Cecala paid the charges.
"On June 24th (1909) I and Calichio began work anew on the second farm, at the stone house, and continued until we had finished $13,500 more of the two-dollar notes. When this amount was printed, Calichio went to New York and left me with Uncle Vincent, Bernardo and Giglio to cut to regular size the two-dollar notes and count them and pack them in bundles of 100 each. This work was done during the month of July.
"On the 28th or the 29th of July Cina arrived and stopped all the work, saying that operations were suspended for the summer. The last lot printed, he said, was to be divided among fifteen of us. Cecala had left about twenty days before, and as no word had been received from him it was supposed that he had been arrested. Turning to me Cina said:
"'You, Don Antonio, divide up the money for fifteen persons, and see what will come to each. Each can sell for himself or exchange them.'
"'I will not take any of them, that is certain,' I replied, 'because I have no friends to whom I can sell them. And what is more, I will risk imprisonment.'
"'That means that you will leave your portion to me, and in time I will sell it for you,' said Cina.
"'I don't want to know whether it is left to you or somebody else. Only, you will bear in mind that together with Cecala you have promised $500 with which I was to go to Italy when this work was completed.'
"'Well, if Cecala returns and brings good money, you will be given what was promised you. In the meantime, dismantle the press and give me the plates, for I must save them. Put them in a box together with the ink that was not used.'
"Without losing any time I took some boards and made a box and put into it the plates for the two-dollar notes, check letter 'C,' plate number 1110; also the five-dollar copper plates, and the second Canadian note plates, which had not been used, and some cans of ink. I nailed a cover over the box, and in the presence of Uncle Vincent, Bernardo, Giglio and Cina, I gave the box to Cina and he said:
"'We hope to open this box in November if things go well.'
"The first Canadian plates – those that had been used together with the first two-dollar note plates, Check letter 'A,' plate number 1111 – were wrapped in some rags and buried in a hole on the farm by Bernardo. The hole was about two hundred feet from the house in the woods back of the house. Then all the ink that remained outside was buried in the woods back of the house; so were all the hundred thousand pieces of paper of bad prints and proofs, etc., buried there. The inks, though, were put in a macaroni box before being put into the ground.
"I dismantled the press, taking it into four parts, and packed it up in boards. At six o'clock that evening Peppino Cina came with a truck, pulled by a team of horses, and the press was loaded onto the truck; also the box with the plates put on, and the whole business was covered with hay. Then Uncle Vincent, Bernardo and Giglio were driven off toward Cina's farm by Peppino Cina. Cina and I took another road in a carriage and went to his farm.
"Arriving at Cina's farm at about 11:30 that night we sat down and ate heartily and drank wine. Towards the end of the meal Cina gave Peppino (his brother), Giglio and Bernardo each $800 of the counterfeit money, saying to them:
"'Boys, the work is done. From to-morrow on each can attend to his own business. You can take this money and exchange it yourselves.
"'If we are going to continue, and if we need you, I will advise you, paying you double what you can earn anywhere else.'
"Hearing this I said to Cina:
"'See if you can't give me some money with which I may get to New York to-morrow, without my looking around for Cecala or anybody else; and also keep it in mind that by August 15th I get the $500 so that I can go to Italy. If the money is not given me I will endeavor to get my passage to Italy and return in November.'
"'Have no doubts about the money,' said Cina. 'To-morrow I will give you five dollars. The money that has been promised you will be yours. In fact, I will bring it to your house as soon as we have it ready, as we know your address in New York.'
"Next morning Cina gave me five dollars, and drove me to the Highland station, where I boarded the eight o'clock train for New York.
"After being in the city three days I found employment in a printing shop in Brooklyn and worked there as an honest man, putting away all thoughts of evil and tried to forget what I had been through in Highland for the past nine months.
"On August 12, 1909, I read in an Italian newspaper about the arrest of some persons who passed some of the notes printed by me. Thinking that some one might mention my name, I wrote a letter to Cina, addressed to No. 20 Duane Street, Poughkeepsie, informing him that as I had not seen any one up to the present, and had not got what was promised me, I had decided to