WHAT’S YOUR MAFIA NAME?
By Paul Giglia
(Paul Giles)
In Martin Scorsese’s film “GoodFellas,” Ray Liotta as Henry Hill opens the story with a simple statement which defines his character. “To me, being a gangster was better than being the President of the United States.” And until his descent into drugs, prison and the witness protection program, it was better. He lived for the day, took what he wanted, spent profligately, regretted nothing. Sure, today's presidents do the same, but since they have to worry about getting reelected they're rarely as upfront about it.
Hill isn’t alone in that sentiment. Let’s face it. Despite all the hero worship and admiration we publicly (and deservedly) shower on our firefighters, police and military, most men would rather be wiseguys. It’s our secret, repressed desire to whack at will those people who get on our nerves - a boss who takes credit for our work, an insulting clerk at a service counter, a snippy head waiter at an overpriced restaurant – then grab all the cash in the place, spend the night drinking at nudie bars and have sex with our mistresses before returning home to sleep all day.
I knew the truth of it all when I realized I and most of my male friends list “Goodfellas” and the three “Godfather” films as our all-time favorites. Not only that, but we sat for over a year on the edges of finely crafted Italian stilettos waiting for the final season of HBO’s “The Sopranos.” Tony, Pauly, and Christopher had become our extended family. We love them for what they are: blunt, crude and violent people who take crap from no one. We talk of “hits” and “pieces” like we were soldiers in the local capo regime who just happen to own minivans and shop at Wal-Mart. But mostly we envy them their names - sharp, descriptive and cool. Junior Soprano, Big Pussy, Pauly Walnuts. For most of us organized crime may not be a practical option, but if we can’t live the lifestyle of a gangster at least we can have great names.
As a full-blooded Sicilian-American I grew up hearing people referred to by the distinctive, sometimes cryptic, Mafia-like nicknames given them early in life by friends and family. My father was a regular patron of the local bookmakers at a time when there was no Off Track Betting in New York. The windows of his favorite gambling parlor, a storefront, were filled with stuffed animals, the “front” for the bookmaking operation. I can still remember Dad taking me and my two younger siblings along with him Sunday mornings to place his bets on the day’s football games. I couldn’t have been more than ten, and Dad figured if the place was raided he could always claim ignorance by saying he had seen the display while driving home from church (a place he had heard about from my mother but had never attended) and had just stopped in to purchase a toy for the children, and honestly, officer, I have no idea how these parlay slips got into my pocket. Leaving us in the car in front of the “store” he’d close the door on us with a stern warning to “look innocent.”
My father knew the proprietors and regulars of those illegal enterprises only by their aliases. “Little Jimmy,” “Longshot Phil,” and “Gino C-note.” were the handles of just a few of these establishments’ habitués. One such operation was run by a gentleman known only as “Tommy Broadway,” who one day mysteriously and ominously disappeared a la Jimmy Hoffa. To an impressionable kid those names were glamorously evocative and alluring.
Italian families are usually large and I can only assume parents are forced to name their children from some secret but slender book of acceptable names, usually Catholic saints. Nicknames are important because in any extended Italian family there will be a large number of Anthonys, Johnnys, and Christophers, while the women will be limited to some Teresas, Marys, and a few Annas. At big family gatherings, where the volume of your comment is more important than the content, yelling, “Hey, Johnny!” may get half the room to answer in unison, “What? I’m eating! Shut up!”
Thus by the time an Italian child is ten years old he will have acquired his or her permanent nickname. That way if you want the attention of one of the Anthonys, you can specify. You could call for Anthony Angels, Little Anthony, Fat Tony, Loverboy Anthony, or Anthony Blue Eyes. The name would stick no matter how much time had passed or how many changes had occurred. My cousin Tall Johnny was big for his age, but stopped growing before high school. We still call him Tall Johnny, but at 5' 4" people outside the family find it odd.
For those of you who aren’t Italian or don’t contemplate a career in the exciting and lucrative gambling, prostitution and whacking industry, you can still get in the game with a colorful sobriquet. To help you, I’ve come up with the basic categories and rules for giving yourself and your loved ones your very own hip Mafia names.
The first and most important category is food. Where would organized crime be without real-life Mafiosi like Chicago enforcer William “Willie Potatoes” Daddano and Joseph “Bananas” Bonanno?
The rules for using food in your name are simple. Your favorite dish could be your name. A food you’re eating at the time you’re named could stick. If you’re at a restaurant and you should happen to order the lasagna, your new name could be Lasagna Louie, Tommy Lasagna, or Big Bobby Lasagna. A food that resembles your given name works quite well, like Eddie Spaghetti or Johnny Melanzane. One that’s your favorite AND has a passing resemblance to your real name is even better, like my friend Tony Cannoli. It has a nice rhyming sound to it that feels as sweet on the tongue as that fresh-baked, calorie-filled Italian pastry.
Non-Italian foods work just as well, as do non-Italian names. An Andrew Smith can be Apples Andy. Robert Kaufman may not have flair, but who wouldn’t strut down the street when he hears his friends on the corner shout, “Hey! It’s Bobby Boloney.”
The second category of names is physical description. I remember my Uncle Dominic once telling me about “the old neighborhood,” and began a story of youthful indiscretion with, “Me and Johnny Beef – you know, he was kind of a husky kid …”
Age and size in relation to others in the family are the basic workhorses of Mafia names. The trick is to use the right descriptive adjective and place it correctly. Obviously, an older Tony is Big Tony, while the younger Tony becomes Little Tony. Of course in Italian families, with more Tonys in their living rooms than Harold Prince, some imagination is required. Here verbosity does the trick. Six Tony Siracusas in your brood? Besides Big Tony and Little Tony, you could have an Anthony “Big Tony” Siracusa and an Anthony “Little Tony” Siracusa. For a real Italian flavor you can round out the field with the even more redundant Tony “Big Tony” Siracusa and Tony “Little Tony” Siracusa.
You may want to use big and little in reference to size instead of age. Fat and skinny work as well as big and little, as in Skinny Sal or Fat Tommy. If Sal and Tommy are always together, you can give them a shared nickname. "Hey, look! Here comes the Big 10!" (Skinny guy, fat guy...look like they're a one and a zero?)
Distinguishing marks have long been a staple in criminal identification. “Scarface” Al Capone was the most famous of those having names taken from a physical trait, although men like Tommy “Three Finger Brown” Lucchese were also popular underworld figures. Accentuate a physical trait that will strike fear in the hearts of your enemies and admiration in your friends. Ashamed of your dental problems? Use it to your advantage with a name like Donnie “The Fang” Cooper. An eye problem? Become Eddie “Malocchio” (Evil Eye) Davis. Don’t choose physical traits that will elicit laughter. Petey “Pyorrhea” Mangione won’t cut it.
Other physical traits can be transformed into names with very little effort. You can be known as La Barba (the beard), Il Labbro (the Lip), or Stecchino (Toothpick, as a physical trait if you’re thin, or as a habit if you constantly chew them – see section on habits below). A jutting jaw? That’s how mob button man Vinnie Gigante got the name “The Chin.” Odds are that was Jay Leno’s nickname, too. A spare tire around the midsection? You could be Mikey “The Michelin Man.” No hair? Think billiard balls, but try to be imaginative. Eddie “Eight Ball” Costanza works just fine. The possibilities are unlimited.
Habits are trickier, but very descriptive and so Mafia. In “Goodfellas,” a long and complex tracking shot introduces the cast of characters. The camera pans to a minor hood named Jimmy Two Times, because, the voiceover explains, he said everything twice. Jimmy then looks into the camera and says, “I’m gonna go get the papers. Get the papers.”
All people have noticeable habits. Look for and use them. Carmine Galante was known as “The Cigar” because he smoked them until his death…literally. (He was gunned down in 1979 while eating at Joe and Mary’s Restaurant in Brooklyn, an expensive Havana still clenched between his teeth when the meat wagon arrived to take his bloody corpse to the morgue.)
A guy I knew used to greet everyone with a few hard pats on the back. We called him Slaps. Another couldn’t leave a store without buying a lottery ticket and furiously scratching it with his “lucky” quarter. He was Itch. (He was always scratching…get it?) A sickly friend who carried around a virtual pharmacy of medications was known as Pills. But be careful to choose a habit that’s flattering, or at the least not insulting. You may like the name Danny “The Digger,” but not if it describes what you do with your nose.
Be creative when using a habit in your name. A time-conscious person might constantly check a wristwatch, but Carmine “The Clock” has no panache. Try “Minute Man.” That oblique reference to time has flair. Have a friend who’s a nail biter? Don’t use the words nail or bite. He might be Tommy Snacks. Or Finger Food Frankie. Some “chooch” always bumming cigarettes off you? Jimmy Gimme One.
When it comes to names, the Mafia is like the real estate business: the three most important considerations are location, location, location. Many a mob figure was known by his geographical tag, like Felix “Milwaukee Phil” Alderisio and Louis “Little New York” Alo.
A state, city or street name can be glamorous as well as descriptive. Just by adding the word “Vegas” to your name you can rise ten points on the hip scale, conjuring visions of gambling, showgirls and Rat Pack excesses. Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings may not have made money while he was alive, but if he had signed his work Vinnie “Big Vegas” Van Gogh the cachet of his name alone would have made him a rich and respected artist.
Places that sound tough or glitzy work best. Besides Vegas, the cities of Brooklyn, Hollywood and Chicago scream, “I’m connected!” Don’t choose a location name just because you live there. You might be proud of your home town, but Sault Saint Marie Mike isn’t going to cut it. If you’ve been content to stay in the “old neighborhood” your entire life, local points of interest will do nicely. “South Side” followed by any name sounds street-wise, as do “Uptown” and “Waterfront.” (Again, be careful. If you’re a New Yorker named Eddie Ott, don’t load a locale like “The Village” on the front end.)
The last major category of mob names is animals. How less interesting Mafia lore would be without the likes of Jimmy “The Weasel” Fratianno, Carmine “The Snake” Persico, Ernest “The Hawk” Salerno, Matthew “Matty the Horse” Ianniello, or Anthony “Tony Ducks” Corallo?
Pick out an animal name that suits your personality or looks. Or you can choose one that conveys a sense of the type of person you want to be. Sharks are dangerous and strong, although you may want to embellish a bit by specifying a breed. “Hammerhead” Phil drips with toughness. Tony “The Tiger Shark” puts people on notice that you’re not a guy to be messed with. Louie “The Great White” tells people you’re a hunter (or that you should get out in the sun more).
Want a reputation for viciousness? Insert “Mad Dog” somewhere in your name. Like people to think of you as wise? You’re “The Owl.” Proud of your craftiness? “The Fox” may be a little cliché, but it works. If you’re naming someone else, and he’s not a guy you particularly like, then the rodent family should suit all your needs. Call someone The Squirrel, Rat, Skunk, Bat or Weasel and you’ve got the advantage in social situations when you trump him with a more noble animal name of your own, like Benny “The Bear.”
Now that you’ve got the basics, one caveat: these names are fun when you’re a law-abiding citizen, but can work to your disadvantage if you actually do plan to live a life of crime. Think about it. Who’s the first guy the cops are going to look at for a suspicious fire if your name is Louie “The Torch” Torcelli? If there’s a mob hit in the area, do you really want to go to trial with a name like Vito “The Assassin” Vincente?
A well-thought out name can earn you the respect and admiration of your peers, but a little care in your choice may save you a lot of grief down the road, and possibly get you a lighter sentence. Just a few tips from me, Little Pauly “The Professor” Giglia. (The name I got when I broke from the family cement business and went to college.)