Before the notorious Five Families who dominated U.S. organized crime for a bloody half century, there was the one-fingered criminal genius Giuseppe Morello--known as "The Clutch Hand"--and his lethal coterie of associates. In The First Family, historian, journalist, and New York Times bestselling author Mike Dash brings to life this little-known story, following the rise of the Mafia in America from the 1890s to the 1920s, from the lawless villages of Sicily to the streets of Little Italy. Using an impressive array of primary sources--hitherto untapped Secret Service archives, prison records, trial transcripts, and interviews with surviving family members--this is the first Mafia history that applies scholarly rigor to the story of the Morello syndicate and the birth of organized crime on these shores.

Progressing from small-time scams to counterfeiting rings to even bigger criminal enterprises, Giuseppe Morello exerted ruthless control of Italian neighborhoods in New York, and through adroit coordination with other Sicilian crime families, his Clutch Hand soon reached far beyond the Hudson River.

The men who battled Morello's crews were themselves colorful and legendary figures, including William Flynn, a fearless Secret Service agent, and Lieutenant Detective Giuseppe "Joe" Petrosino of the New York Police Department's elite Italian Squad, whose pursuit of the brutal gangs ultimately cost him his life.

Combining first-rate scholarship and pulse-quickening action, and set amid rustic Sicilian landscapes and the streets of old New York, The First Family is a groundbreaking account of the crucial period when the American criminal underworld exploded with violent fury across the nation.

From the Hardcover edition.

The Barrel Mystery the room felt like the bottom of a grave. it was damp, low ceilinged, windowless, and--on this raw--boned New York night--as chilly and unwelcoming as a policeman's stare.

Outside, on Prince Street in the heart of Little Italy, a fine drizzle slanted down to puddle amid the piles of rotting garbage strewn along the edges of the road, leaving the cobbles treacherous and greasy. Inside, beneath a billboard advertising lager beer, a featureless, cheap workingmen's saloon stretched deep into the bowels of a dingy tenement. At this late hour--it was past three on the morning of April 14, 1903--the tavern was shuttered up and silent. But in the shadows at the far end of the bar there stood a rough--hewn, tightly closed door. And in the room behind that door, Benedetto Madonia sat eating his last supper.

The place was advertised as a spaghetti restaurant, but it was in truth an eating house of the most basic sort. An old stove squatted against one wall, belching fumes. Musty strings of garlic dangled from the walls, mingling their odor with the smell of boiling vegetables. The remaining fittings consisted of several rough, low tables, a handful of ancient chairs, and a rusting iron sink that jutted from a corner of the room. Gas lamps spewed out mustard light, and the naked floorboards had been scattered with cedar sawdust, which, at the end of a busy day, coagulated in a thick mix of spit, onion skins, and the butts of dark Italian cigars.

Madonia dug hungrily into a stew of beans, beets, and potatoes, hearty peasant food from his home province of Palermo. He was a powerfully built man of average height, handsome after the fashion of the time, with a high forehead, chestnut eyes, and a wave of thick brown hair. A large mustache, carefully waxed until it tapered to points, offset the sharp slash of his Roman nose. He dressed better than most workingmen, wearing a suit, high collar, tie, and well--soled shoes--all signs of some prosperity. Exactly how he earned his money, though, was scarcely obvious. If asked, Madonia claimed to be a stonemason. But even a casual observer could see that this was a man unused to manual labor. His forty--three--year--old body had begun to sag, and his soft hands--neatly manicured--bore no trace of an ­artisan's calluses.

After a while the solitary diner, sated, thrust his bowl aside and glanced across the room to where a handful of companions lounged against one wall. Like him, they spoke Sicilian--a dialect so rich in words drawn from Spanish, Greek, and Arabic that it was scarcely intelligible, even to other Italians--and, like his, the jewelry and the clothes they wore were quite at odds with their supposed professions: laborer, farmer, clothes presser. Yet there was no mistaking the fact that Madonia was an outsider here. Immigrants though all those in the restaurant were, the others had become New Yorkers and now felt quite at home amid the teeming streets of the Italian colony. Madonia, on the other hand, had first come to Manhattan just a week ago and did not know the city. He found it disconcerting that he required an escort to find his way round Little Italy. Worse, he was growing increasingly alarmed at the way these men he barely knew muttered together in low voices, and spoke so elliptically that he could not grasp the meaning of their words.

Madonia had little chance to grapple with this mystery. The Sicilian had barely finished his meal when, with a click that echoed loudly through the room, the solitary door into the restaurant swung open and a second group of men appeared. In the sickly flicker of the gaslight Madonia made out the face of one he knew:...

 

 

"Vividly imagined and prodigiously researched, The First Family tells the story of the American Mafia--'the most secret and terrible organization in the world'--as never before, a gripping, timeless saga of murder, mayhem, and the darkest corners of the American dream. Mike Dash has a journalist's nose for a good story and a novelist's gift for telling it, and The First Family reads like the most compelling, sleep-defying fiction."

 

"An enthralling account . . . Decades before the Five Families emerged and more than half a century before Mario Puzo wrote The Godfather, Giuseppe Morello and his family controlled all manner of crime in New York City. . . . Readers may think they know the mob, but Morello's ruthless rule makes even the fictional Tony Soprano look tame."

 

"Mike Dash is a brilliant researcher and writer who has done full justice to one of the most astonishing true stories. Dash exhumes long forgotten evidence to tell us exactly how the Mafia arrived and--more importantly--how it thrived in this country."

 

" Dash has dug into tons of material and emerged with a work of popular history--written in lively, lucid prose, with a strong narrative line and a wealth of anecdote, much of it gory--that seems likely to be the definitive work on its subject for years to come."

 

"[Mike Dash] is at his best conjuring the birth of the Little Italys in Lower Manhattan and East Harlem at the end of the 19th century."

 

"Dash is a terrific historical researcher and storyteller...The First Family, another commendable combination of careful documentation and stirring narrative."

 

"An excellent, vividly written introduction to the birth of the Mafia...a must-read book for any student of American organized crime."

 

"The First Family provides well-researched history for readers fascinated, and even repulsed, by organized crime."

 

"Highly researched and smoothly written."

 

"Impressive."

 

"The Mob comes to America, and rivers of blood flow. An altogether excellent account...Dash writes with flair and care alike, taking pains to keep a complicated story and a vast cast of characters on track while studding the text with nicely hard-boiled observations. Essential."