The Cudoni Creed: The Dream

by Phil Cuda

Overview

In 1898, driven by dreams of fame and fortune, adventure and true love, three brothers left their beloved Calabria and all of its problems- including the Mafia- behind. First stop is Marseille in France and then to the United States, where they hope to see their dreams come true.

Life in this strange new world challenges the brothers, and they find that even in their new home familiar demons pursue them. The Pittsburgh version of the Sicilian Mafia, known as the Cosa Nostra, relies on time-tested savage techniques to maintain control. The Cudoni brothers pull together to carve out a new, peaceful, and prosperous life, but their vow to never pay the Cosa Nostra extortion money comes with a high price.

One of the brothers, Filippo, is a lost soul torn between his homeland and his new home with a new love. In America, he loses his heart to Angelina, a tall, beautiful Italian girl. Their love is hot, passionate, and intense, but when her father learns of his plans to return to Italy he pulls them apart.

Filippo leaves Pittsburgh and throws himself into work and into the arms of his boss's daughter. Angelino hears of this and promises to marry Bruno Curcio, a coward at heart. When Tracy the boss's daughter gets serious, Filippo cools this affair and returning to Pittsburgh has a secret affair with Angelina just before her wedding to Curcio, who was nearly killed by the Cosa Nostra a few months earlier. Filippo attends the wedding but promises Curcio he will not interfere with them as he will be returning to Italy.

He renews a short relationship with Tracy but soon finds himself back in the arms and bed of Angelina and after a fight with Curcio and the Cosa Nostra he returns to Italy.

There he meets Rosina, a softly spoken, beautiful 'twin cousin' to Angelina who heals his broken heart. With a promise from Rosina that she will wait for his return from America he travels back to his hometown, but the Calabrian mafia, seeking revenge, are waiting for him just out of town. Leaving behind two dead Mafi a men Filippo and two more of his brothers and a friend set off for America. He falls foul of the captain and crew and one night just before he enters his cabin he is hung by rope around the neck to the mast.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781452509891
Publisher:	Balboa Press
Publication date:	04/29/2013
Pages:	370
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.82(d)

Read an Excerpt

THE CUDONI CREED

THE DREAM

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By Phil Cuda

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2013 Phil Cuda
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-0989-1

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Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

June 16, 1895

The strangled bleating of a small lamb on the mountainside momentarily broke the stillness and silence of the midday Sunday siesta. As faint as the sound was, however, it gave a clear warning of impending danger to the two young men on the mountain.

"There—there he is. The fire of hell be on the rotten devil. He's just stolen another one—and in the middle of the day as well," a tall but lean young man angrily and excitedly exclaimed to his older brother as he pointed from where he stood on the small hillock on the mountain.

The older brother had already jumped to his feet and grabbed the new shotgun he had left leaning against a large rock. Hurriedly planting one foot firmly on the rock in front of him, he took quick but careful aim. A look of anger and determination came across his face. You're going to die this time, you rotten thief, he thought as he pulled the trigger on the shotgun his father had given him a few weeks earlier. The recoil of the gun as it blasted out its deadly missile vibrated against the young man's strong shoulder. A puff of smoke followed the bullet out of the barrel, and the bullet found its mark with fatal accuracy. It ripped into the thief's upper ribs and shattered his spine on its way out. The would-be thief hurtled into an outcrop of rocks and slumped lifeless to the dusty ground. With the sound of the blast still echoing across the mountainside, the young man put the gun back against the rock.

"He's dead for sure this time, little brother," the older brother remarked with a smirk on his face.

The younger brother had started whistling a local tune to the sheep and goats as soon as his brother had fired. The startled sheep and goats had jumped with fright at the blast of the gun and collected a short distance away from the two young men. The whistling had a soothing effect on them as they peered cautiously towards the dead wolf.

"I'll make sure," the other retorted with a lusty "ha ha." He nimbly raced barefoot over rocks and parched earth to where the huge grey wolf lay dead on the dirt.

The young man looked at the grey wolf's still-open eyes for a moment. He slowly reached down to his belt with his right hand and pulled out a shiny, wedge-shaped, solid axe and waved it over the wolf's head for a few seconds. Suddenly he smashed the back of the axe brutally into the back of the wolf's head. Momentarily, the wolf's convulsions stopped.

A few minutes later, he returned to where his brother stood, a satisfied smirk across his face. "He's dead. Pa'll sure be glad to hear the old grey devil is dead."

From a ridge some six hundred metres away, they heard a floating, echoing call: "E Don Filippo, Lai sparato il diavolo. Si o no?" (Have you shot the devil?)

Both young men looked out towards the next ridge, where a middle-aged shepherd was frantically waving to them. Signore Salvatore Ferarro didn't have the best eyesight, but he had a hunch about what had happened. He had heard the shotgun blast and knew that the boys would not be shooting just to scare the goats and sheep away. Filippo picked up the gun and waved it over his head. "Si, si, questa volta la Volpe e morta," he yelled back over the small valley between them.

Ferraro waved back, nodding happily to himself. He too had lost many small lambs to the old grey wolf, but his thoughts turned to the young Filippo, who had shot the wolf. "If only that young man would look at my little Concetta one day," he mumbled to himself.

The two young men turned their attention back to staring out across the Mediterranean Sea as the dry, hot early summer wind blew gently over the mountainsides. The two young men, now unconcerned about what had just happened, looked out over the blue waters of the sea.

The land around the mountain ridges where they stood was dry, and the vegetation and grass were brown. Only the odd patches of fruit trees in the low-lying distance were showing some green leaves, but they too needed rain. Somehow only the countryside down on the coast and alongside the small river appeared through the afternoon haze to be much greener.

On a clear day, the top peaks of the mountain range across the south-west side of the land jutting out into the Gulf of Sant'Eufemia could be seen rising over the south-west horizon, and at night, the smoky haze from the volcano on Mount Etna in Sicily was also faintly visible. From this vantage point on a small mountain range in Southern Italy, one could see the dull glow that permeated from the volcano, particularly in the darker night sky. When the volcano erupted, the glow turned into fiery red balls of flashing and shooting lights, which brightly lit the night sky. These then fell back to the mountain and rolled down its sides, and the bright lights faded and disappeared, only to be replaced seconds later by fiery new ones.

The two young brothers standing under the huge olive tree on top of the knoll knew these lights, for they had seen them several years ago at the time of the big eruption. However, it was not only the lights that fascinated them but also the call of the ocean, which seemed to constantly beckon them to it—away from the smell of the goats and the sheep they tended, away from the mundane life of a goat herder. To the two young men on the mountain, financial and social progress seemed to be somewhere else, not there. Maybe in Rome or Naples, they thought, life could be and would be better and have some real meaning or sense of progression. Or maybe they could find success far, far away on the other side of the sea—in a new land, a new world for them.

"One day, Gennaro, I'm going to sail over the sea," the older brother casually remarked. "It's either that or go by train to Rome and see the rest of the world from there."

"Me too," Gennaro replied, just as matter-of-factly. "I'm going to get rich one day, you know."

Filippo laughed. "You always want to get rich, don't you? I want to make plenty and see the world, but you—you want to get rich." He thought for a moment and then, on a more serious note, warned his brother, "Whatever you do, I don't want you ever to join the rotten Mafia crowd. You'll just end up shot dead, little brother."

Gennaro did not reply. He slowly and thoughtfully scratched the side of his head with his right hand, his left hand resting casually on his sharp axe.

Occasionally a goat would stray to a patch of greener-looking grass away from the herd, and one of the young men would leap to his feet and jump down the mountainside and over rock or brook to chase it back to the main herd. At times, one of the billy goats would try to sneak over to the other herds not far away, or an older lamb would stray from its mother and disappear into the woods, never to be seen again. In the distance, they could see other herders minding their flocks, and sometimes they would call out to them.

The two minding the sheep and goats had five younger brothers, and normally one or two of the youngest brothers would be tending the flock. But that day, Papa Francesco Cudoni and Mama Rosaria Cudoni were taking the rest of the family to Sambiase. It would be the biggest day of the year for them. They would eat gelato in the piazza and buy new clothes for the boys to wear and a new dress for their little sister, but first they would attend Mass at the Holy Church of Santo Antonio.

The parents were devout Catholics, and Mass on Sunday was not to be missed for any reason. But that day was not just any day. It was the sixteenth day of June 1895—the feast of Santo Antonio. The little town would be bursting at the seams that day. Thousands of people from the surrounding towns and countryside were coming. Some had come the day before. Friends and enemies alike would all be there.

On their little plateau on the mountain overlooking the sea, Filippo and Gennaro waited impatiently for the sun to approach the western horizon. The two could take the herd of goats and sheep home early that day so that they too could get to the feast in the early afternoon.

As they waited for the sun to move to the west, they talked of all the things they would do, the places they would travel to, and the fortunes they intended to make. The older youth picked up a stone and threw it down the steeper side of the mountain. He watched and listened as it bounced down the mountain. "Gennaro, I think we can take the herd back and lock them up very soon."

Invariably the topic returned to travel. "I want to travel, to make money. There is little chance of doing that here, fratello mio. They tell me that in America people are getting rich quick," Filippo solemnly said to the other.

"Me too. I'm going to travel and get rich. We can go to America. We have relations there. Remember Michele, Benaldo, Palmo, and the two little brothers," Gennaro said. Then he added, "I bet they are rich in Pittza-burgh. And I bet they are not looking after goats and sheep. I'm going to go to Pittza-burgh as soon as I can."

The older brother replied, "I'm going to Pittza-burgh one day too. Did you know that Papa said he had decided to go to America before Zio Nicola went? He actually left Sambiase and went to Paris to get a boat from there to America. It was after Antonio was born. Papa got to Paris, but before he could pay for his passage across, he was mugged and robbed of everything but his suit, and he barely made it back home."

"So why did he not go after?"

"Well, I think he had the other boys and little Theresa to think about and no money."

The two youths discussed how and when they would go to America. They knew that life in Calabria was only good if one had loads of money, and they did not feel a life of peasantry was for them. The idea of hard farm work for little profit did not fulfill the dreams of young Calabrian boys, let alone young men who wanted to see, feel, and experience the world. Picking olives, making olive oil, maintaining the vineyard, making wine, and planting the small crops of vegetables that provided the meager family income, while needing to be done, would not make them rich.

News of the New World had filtered back to them from some of their relations, along with stories of fortunes to be made. It was the land of opportunity, the land of milk and honey, for those who were prepared to work. And they were prepared to work to make money so that they could return and be the big landlords they dreamed of being. This was the start of a new dream. These two brothers knew their dreams and futures were to be made elsewhere—maybe in America.

Filippo was the eldest of the seven boys. The following week, on the twenty-first of June 1896, he would reach the ripe age of twenty-one. He was a few inches over medium height, standing about six feet tall, and he was extremely good looking, well built, athletic, and strong. His face had a long, square shape that culminated in a strong and prominent chin that gave him a look of strong determination and natural leadership. He had long black hair, but unusual for someone with dark hair, he had very light greenish-blue eyes. They were remarkable eyes and were unusual for Calabrian people. When he flashed a smile, with his even teeth and blue eyes, many a young lass's heart would flutter and melt in his searching, cheerful, and engaging look. His father told everyone that he was a throwback to when the Cudonis had come from the north.

Gennaro had just turned nineteen, and he had long black hair and dark brown eyes. He was different from his brother in that he was taller and not yet as filled out. He was lean and looked to be still growing, but years of hard work had made him much stronger than he looked.

With the herd locked up, the two brothers quickly washed and were soon ready to leave. They were dressed in dark woolen trousers that reached down almost to their ankles. Gennaro wore a grey-coloured flannel shirt, while Filippo wore an off-white-coloured shirt. The family was very poor, but their mother made sure they were as clean as she could possibly keep them.

Both youths were impulsive by nature, but already the years of hard work and rough times had taught them to be a little cautious. It was easy in Calabria to join the various groups of young men whose sole aim was to get rich by stealing from anyone. One could get into fights and arguments stealing or even be killed by rival groups. In Calabria, the shotgun was mighty, and every young man carried at least a knife. Both brothers carried knives slung in home-made pouches on their belts during the day and at night.

Carrying their home-made shoes in their hands, they set off barefoot towards Sambiase, racing down the winding goat track that served as a road, dressed in their colourful, clean clothes—the only going-out clothes they had. The three kilometres to the town seemed like nothing, and soon they were on the outskirts of the town. The town was built at the foot of the mountains on reasonably level ground. The Holy Church of Santo Antonio was built on a small rise overlooking the main piazza of Sambiase and was some two hundred metres away from it.

The track the young men followed turned into a road and, where it became part of the town, was paved with stone. They stopped and put on their home-made leather shoes. The road took them through the piazza until they reached the church. This street continued on past the church and then led to the town cemetery.

When they turned onto the street towards the church, they saw that the main part of the procession that took place after Mass finished had left the church and was heading towards the cemetery. The last people coming out of church were just walking down the steps when Filippo and Gennaro arrived and joined in.

Filippo and Gennaro could see the statue of Santo Antonio in the forefront of the procession and could hear the voices of the men carrying it, asking the people to pray and contribute towards the cost of holding the feast and the upkeep of the church. When the men stopped calling for donations, the women would start the recital of the rosary.

Filippo and Gennaro followed the tail of the procession until they passed a narrow lane to one side of the street, when Filippo heard his name called out.

"Filippo, Filippo mio," a soft, young female voice called.

He turned and looked towards the lane. "Maria, ma che cosa fai qui?" Filippo demanded as he strode towards her. While surprised to hear Maria call him, Filippo nevertheless flashed Maria a big smile.

Her whole pretty face lit up as she noticed his charming smile. "Aspeto a te," she answered.

Gennaro followed Filippo as he walked towards Maria. Two pretty young girls wearing white blouses and long red skirts with green sashes tied around their waists came out of the shadows of the buildings. The older girl was about nineteen; the other was about seventeen. The older girl, Maria, smiled broadly and giggled and skipped happily as she ran to Filippo. The other girl was her younger sister, Catarina. Maria was very pretty, with a bubbly personality, and she was as happy as a lark, especially now that her handsome, secret, and lovable boyfriend, Filippo, was with her. Catarina was a bit shy and did not seem at all comfortable with her sister and her boyfriend and his brother.

"Filippo, amore mio, I have to talk to you," a passionate Maria said after she first gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then took his arm. She turned to her sister. "Catarina, you better go back and join the procession before Papa realizes that we are both missing."

Catarina looked at her. "What will I say to Papa if he asks where you are?" she asked.

"Just say that I am talking to some of my friends on the other side," Maria said as she pulled Filippo by the arm towards the lane where the girls had come from.

Gennaro followed Catarina back to the procession, and soon both disappeared into the crowd. Filippo and the young, beautiful Maria headed down the narrow lane. She had her arm tightly around his as she pulled him close to her, and her firm but nicely proportioned breasts rubbed against his arm and sometimes the side of his chest as they walked along. She smiled and sometimes giggled as she skipped happily down the lane with her prize. Filippo pulled her to him for a moment, and his hungry lips sought hers in a hot but hurried kiss.

At the end of the lane was a small street laid with pebbles, and on the other side of the street was an outcrop of rocks surrounded by large oak and willow trees. They ducked under the branches of the trees and were out of sight to any prying eyes, but they knew there was no need to worry, as everybody was either in the procession or watching it.

Inside the clump of trees, there was a small clearing, and on the right, coming from under the jumble of rocks, was a spring of clear, fresh water. The locals had built a rock pool out of rocks and cement, and coming out of it was a spout that had drinkable, fresh water pouring out the end. A pathway led down from the pool and around the trees to the street below. Filippo had a quick drink and then sat on the edge of the fountain, and Maria decided to sit on his lap.
(Continues...)

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Excerpted from THE CUDONI CREED by Phil Cuda. Copyright © 2013 by Phil Cuda. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Acknowledgements....................     ix     

Introduction....................     xi     

Chapter 1....................     1     

Chapter 2....................     23     

Chapter 3....................     43     

Chapter 4....................     55     

Chapter 5....................     63     

Chapter 6....................     77     

Chapter 7....................     89     

Chapter 8....................     99     

Chapter 9....................     107     

Chapter 10....................     123     

Chapter 11....................     131     

Chapter 12....................     141     

Chapter 13....................     149     

Chapter 14....................     161     

Chapter 15....................     165     

Chapter 16....................     173     

Chapter 17....................     187     

Chapter 18....................     197     

Chapter 19....................     211     

Chapter 20....................     219     

Chapter 21....................     227     

Chapter 22....................     235     

Chapter 23....................     245     

Chapter 24....................     255     

Chapter 25....................     273     

Chapter 26....................     279     

Chapter 27....................     289     

Chapter 28....................     297     

Chapter 29....................     307     

Chapter 30....................     315     

Chapter 31....................     331     

Chapter 32....................     345     

List of Characters....................     353