The Old Neighborhood ... Nothing Like it

   
  Everybody remembers the old neighborhod. Some love it, some want to forget it. Me? I want to relate a story that might strike you funny or it might make you feel a little uncomfortable.
    The story begins in Brooklyn,. New York. Some folks say the reason there are so many people in Brooklyn is because once you get in, you can't  find your way out.
    Frankie Faye's parents probably couldn't find their way out so they just plopped in Bensonhurst and remained on the same block, in the same apartment, until they died.
    Although Frankie was only a kid, he had quit school and was working for some of the more colorful characters in the neighborhood. The apartment was rent controlled and Frankie hardly ever left the neighborhood so money was not an issue. Frankie's nick name was "The Twitch". Some say he had this tic because his father always hit him in the back of his head to get his attention. Could be. Who knows?
    Frankie spent most of the day just hanging around keeping his eye on his shiny, black,  88 Olds. He really loved that car. Almost as much as he loved his job. When Sally called for him he was always ready to do whatever was asked of him. Most of the time it ment moving either swagged goods or illict money.
    The "earners", who were in Sally's crew, were responsible for contributing to the capo di tutti capo who ran all of Bensonhurst. Like any other business, big money means big risks. When you're in charge of everything you had better be able to trust your captains. Sally ran a tight ship. His crew gave him the take each week and he delivered to the capo. Sometimes it was cordial and he was invited to have a cup of espresso and sometimes Sally couldn't wait to leave the room. He said he could sense when linguine was going to hit the fan.
    Most of the crew liked Frankie. There was always a couple of guys who picked on him but he was not going to get into anything with anyone. Besides, they all had guns.
    Sally liked Frankie. He knew he would never dip into the daily take. Frankie had respect. Most of all he had fear.
    When Sally was made capo of his crew he gave his 88 Olds to Frankie. As capo he earned a Caddy for himself. There is a certain amout of protocal, even among thievs.
      Any time anyone wanted to find Frankie all they had to do is look for the car. He would drive it one block to the ice cream parlor for the daily drop on the take for the numbers and two blocks to the betting parlor where he would man one of the phones and take the bets.
      The big joke for everyone sitting outside the coffee house was to get up, wave goodby, and wish him bon voyage. Frankie would wave back and shout "Thanks."
        Frankie enjoyed his roll in the neighborhood. He knew he wasn't a tough guy and the thought of spending a few years in jail made him shudder. He had been hauled in a few times, when the police made bogus raids to keep up appearances, bit each time it was only for one night with a bunch of guys he knew. As far as he was concerned, the pay was good, he was never to far from his car, and he liked hanging around with the guys, so, a night in jail and a little ribbing didn't bother him.
      One of the crew's favorite neiborhood restaurants was Marie's. Usually the capo and a couple of made men would meet there once a week and have a free meal of anti pasta, macaroni, mussels, pastries and espresso.
        Frankie was never involved in a meeting. He just waited outside to see if they needed him. If not he would go to the Social Athletic Club, which doubled for high stakes card games. He liked that because he would help out and make a few extra bucks.
        As the story goes, one particular night Frankie left the card game about two o' clock in the morning. He driove the four blocks from the club to his apartment. As he approached he was happy to see a parking space one door down from his apartment.
      After parking the car, and taking a quick glance over his shoulder he entered the hallway leading to his apartment. Just as he opened the door he heard the squealing of tires, a car speeding down the street, followed by a loud explosion.
    In an instant he was at the door leading to the street. He couldn't believe his eyes. His car was blown up and on fire. His first thought was, Oh, my God. My car. My car. His next thought was, who did I upset? Was this a warning? He thought. "I've been working for these guys since I was a kid.They know I would never take a dime and I always show respect."
    When the police arrived the first person they wanted to speak to was Frankie. The police sargent knew Frankie and said to him "What the hell did you do to get some one this mad at you? At least they gave you a warning."
    Let it be said now, that the police usually turn a blind eye to neighborhood goings on as long as it wasn't serious. This was as serious as a heart attack.
    Sally called for an emergency meeting for the next afternoon. This was the first time Frankie was calle to a meeting and he was scared out of his wits. When he got there, no one looked happy. Frankie looked around and felt better that there was only Sally and four of Sally's best men. Then the thought went through his mind about people who were invited to meeting and were never seen again. At least, not on one piece.
    Sally looked Frankie right in the eye and said "Would you like to tell me what's going on? I had to find out what happened from the cops."By this time Frankie is ashen. Sally never hollered at him. Not once. Every gruesome story he ever heard was popping into his head. "Please God, not the wood chipper" he though, as his head dropped into his hands, but he quickly recovered because Sally hated weakness. Just as Frankie lifted his head he noticed a smirk on the faces of all that were present.
    Was it his imaagination or were they finding this amusing? Frankie was finally able to speak but all he was able to do was wimper. "I don't know what I did?" Sally says"If you don't know, who does. You know none of us is responsible?" Frankie now has a bewildered look on his face and asks, Who then, I'm never out of the neighborhood?"
    After fifteen minutes of questions Frankie couldn't answer, Sally couldn't hold in the laughter any longer. Once he started to laugh, every one else did, all except Frankie.
    Sally explaind that Mario, Marie's husband was having an affaire with the wife of one of a capo from another crew. Mario, being a made man, couldn't be whacked without permission. So, the capo decided to scare him by bombing his restaurant. It turns out that the two bombers were so drunk that when they threw the bomb it hit a stoop and accidentally rolled under Frankie's car.
    The story got loose when the two hoods were picked up for DWI, and after questioning they confessed to the attempted bombing. They made up a story not involving the capo and took the rap themselves because spending time in the slammed was better than facing the capo, if they had squealed.
    Mario took off for points unknown, and hasn't been seen since. Frankie still mourns the loss of his car but he was able to buy a new one with the insurance and a no vig loan from Sally. He still misses his old car.
    Frankie still takes a ribbing. There always is a joke when a few of the boys are sitting outside in front of the coffeehouse.
    One may go like this. Two of the guys might be walking down the street and when they get close to Frankie's car one will turn to the other and ask him how come his watch ticks so loud. The other guy will say he's not wearing a watch and they will both run away from the car.
    With that, the coffeehouse gang laughs and bang on the table while Frankie looks under the car, turns to the guys smiles and says "False alarm."
    He still likes working for Sally and the guys, even if he has to take a ribbing.



                                    END PART ONE


        PART TWO SEES NEW CHARACTERS AND A NEW FRANKIE