FRANK 21: Italian vs Italian American by Frank151

24 Magic Man 30 “Who’s Better Than Me?” 34 Trunzo Bros. 42 Flavor Flav 46 Waste Management 54 Cane Corso 60 Giglio 64 Orange Battle 68 Scary Guy 72 Uncle Frank 78 Shaddap You Face 82 Milano Limousine 88 Bada Boom 94 Maloccio 100 Zuek 104 Ultras 110 Paninari 115 Bouffants 124 The Ringleader 130 Dumbo 134 New York’s Finest 141 Pizza Pride 142 Milano’s Finest 146 Cut Up 150 Glossary 154 Mambo Italiano

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Mike and Stephen Malbon Chris Nagy Sir Frank Greg Johnsen for SNAFU & Supernova Gian Luca Brignone & Enrico Pirondi Jesse Nicely Frank Green Yan Kallen Nayoun Kim, Abel Rugama, Carl Rauschenbach Craig Wetherby Frenel Morris Zuek, Matteo Mariani, Dumbo Atif Ahmad, Ryo Kato, Adam Bhala Lough, Alex Rhee, Jess Lechuga, Janet Gigante, Schui Schumacher, Kaves One, Joseph Bartucci, Ben Rekhi, Anna Bernabe, John Campo, Debi Mazar, Bonz Malone, Lauren DeCarlo, Chris Pieretti, Arthur Soleimanpour Brian Trunzo (Trunzo@frank151.com) Christian Alexander Dan Tochterman Jim DiCarlo Lyntaro Wajima, Takayuki Shibaki Reietsu Sasaki Daisuke Shiromoto Jason Faulkner Kim Chey (advertising@frank151.com) (content@frank151.com) (info@frank151.com)

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Words Schui Schumacher Portrait Craig Wetherby Photos Courtesy Paulie Malignaggi Originally hailing from Siracusa, Italy, Paulie “Magic Man” Malignaggi spoke with Frank151 at the world famous Gleason’s Gym in Brooklyn. The Magic Man sanctifies the sweet science daily at Gleason’s, training ground for other great fighters such as Jake “The Bronx Bull” LaMotta, George Foreman and Mike Tyson. Malignaggi has a stunning record of 19-0 (5 KO’s) and is on his way to a shot at the Junior Welterweight WBC world title. Frank151: You are currently an upand-coming Italian American fighter. What are your stats? Paulie Malignaggi: I’m rated eighth in the world by the World Boxing Council. I just won the belt for the WBC International Title which automatically ranks me in the top ten. I’m just a few fights away from the world title shot.

F151: If you win the title, what would be the next step in your career? PM: The next step would be to defend my win and probably unify the belt because there are four major world titles. Winning the world title can make you a lot of money, a lot of fame and take you to a higher level. Hopefully if I reach this status I would like to

Photo Thiery Gourjon

move up to a higher weight class. Right now I’m a Junior Welterweight, that’s 140 lbs. So I’d like to move up to Welterweight and win the title in this weight class. My ultimate goal is to make the Hall of Fame.

after I was done training. My mind became like a sponge for the sport.

F151: How did you get into boxing?

PM: It’s a great thing for me because you don’t see as many Italians fighting anymore. Back in the day, coming to the US as an immigrant, life was hard so you had to turn to fighting. Now with the pizza business and stuff like that, Italians are making money so they aren’t fighting as much. So to continue the boxing tradition is

PM: I was 16 years old and I just got kicked out of my mother’s house. I’d already dropped out of high school. I moved in with my grandparents. My grandpa took me to the gym hoping it would straighten me out. And it did. I really enjoyed being in the gym, even

F151: What does it mean for you as an Italian American to come from such a long line of Italian boxing champions.

something important to me and I plan on doing a good job. F151: Who are some of your favorite Italian boxers? PM: Arturo Gatti is my favorite. It’s funny because he’s the world champion in his weight class with the World Boxing Council. If he’s still the champion when it’s my time, I’ll fight my childhood favorite, my childhood idol. It would be kind of weird but kind of cool at the same time. Also I like Rocky Marciano, Vinny Pazienza and Willy Pep. All of them set really great examples and I plan on taking it to another level.

make weight, you have a strict diet. But when you’re not fighting you can eat. It’s just a matter of being disciplined at a time when you have to be. It gets kind of tough, but I’ve gotten used to it over the years. F151: What do you look for in an opponent? Technique, fighting spirit, style? PM: I look for a lot of things in an opponent. I try not to over-study opponents because that can mentally wear you down. I basically study whether my opponent is aggressive, what his defense is, how he reacts to punches when he’s hit—if he’s confident or if he loses confidence. I study those things and

“I basically study whether my opponent is aggressive, what his defense is, how he reacts to punches...” F151: How do you prepare yourself mentally and emotionally for a fight? Do you have a fighting “persona”? PM: Oh, yeah, when you see me in the ring I’m definitely a different person. I’m more flamboyant, I’m cocky, I’m a very outgoing person in the ring. If you don’t know me personally you probably won’t like me. I get into my opponent’s mind. Everything I can do psychologically to my opponent to break him down is to my advantage. So I play the bad guy role in a way. It gets me psyched up. F151: Because weight classifications are so critical in boxing and boxers are very conscious of their weight, is it tough being Italian and not being able to eat pizza?! PM: Yeah, it is! When you fight and

try to work off his mentality. F151: Would you rather win with points or a knockout? PM: It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve gotten to a point where I win on points because I’ve had injuries. I’ve torn ligaments and broken my right hand so this has affected my power. If I don’t knock a guy out I’m still going to win on points because I know how to fight. A win is a win. A knockout is easier but I’m always prepared to go the distance. F151: Any final words for boxers out there today? PM: Always be on the lookout for the Magic Man! For anyone trying to come up, it’s a tough sport but if you’ve got discipline and the desire and a little natural ability, anything’s possible.

Words Bonz Malone Photos Craig Wetherby I hadn’t seen Vinny in a long time. At least a couple of years since the job we pulled in Brooklyn with other reputed guys. Even the Feds got a piece of the score. There were several crews represented and guys with police records an arm-and-a-half long. We had the Federal Probation Office on smash for a whole weekend. We were filming the pilot for Street Time that Showtime Networks eventually picked up. Great time, sure! Could they air it? Nah!!! Too greasy for T.V., with everyone’s records no one could get over the border to Canada where they ended up filming the series. Since then, every year, the guys get together on Mulberry Street to chew the fat. But for Frank151, he agreed to have an informal sit down, at his favorite joint, in his own territory, Elizabeth Street For any one who’s respected and connected, Vinny will always be protected wit’ us. Vinny Vella: One day a guy calls me up, a little less than a year ago and says, ‘Hey can we get you to do a music video for 50 Cent?’ I said, ‘What are you a freakin’ wise guy? Get the fuck outta here!’ and hung up the phone. He called me right back and said ‘No you don’t understand,’ before he could explain himself I told him, ‘You know what? Why don’t you call up Vinnie Pastone, he’ll do it for a dollar!’ I thought they wanted me to do one for fifty cents!

My son put the squeeze on me and I ended up doing the 50 Cent video. ‘Aye, who’s better than me?!’ Bonz Malone: When did you know that acting is what you wanted to do? VV: I used to have those recreational vehicles you know, the big RV’s, the Winnebago’s? So I worked behind the cameras. We use to rent them out to the fashion industry. When I used to hear people say that they had an audition tomorrow, where?! They would say it and I would write it down, write down names and I would go there myself and drop off my head shot and resume and that’s how I got in. One audition I went on she says, ‘You have to be submitted by an agent.’ I said, ‘My agent sent me. He told me to come here, but he’s in the hospital. He’s havin’ problems breathin’!’ I had no agent! ‘What’s his name? We don’t know him.’ I says, ‘Well he’s new in the business. He’s having trouble

breathing and told me to come here.’ They all new I was bullshitting, but they took my headshot anyway. That’s how I wound up getting on all these movie sets. I did a lot of movies before that, but my first big break was Casino. I happened to have the right look, the right attitude. They didn’t give a fuck about the agent ‘cause when they write a script, they say we need a guy that looks like this. This age group, the right attitude. When you walk in they don’t give a fuck who you are. They don’t give a fuck if you just came outta jail for fucking killing somebody. You got the right look they’re gonna use you! I read for a much smaller part, then they called me and said that they were gonna upgrade me. We’re gonna give you a bigger part. That’s how I got in Casino. I fucked everybody up in there. [Laughs] And I’ve been fucking everybody up ever since. Ya’ wanna know somethin’? I was a helluva comedian since I was in first grade. I use to get all the kids in trouble in school. The teacher used to say don’t laugh at that imbecile and I hada stay after school. I would always be entertaining people. I was an actor since I was a kid. I never knew it. I always said, ‘I would love to be an actor,’ but I never pursued it. When I wound up working with the RVs that was my opportunity. BM: Was it hard for Italian American actors back then? VV: The 70s. That’s when all this Mafia shit, all this other shit started surfacing, you know? But you could be Italian, have that rough look on your face,

but ya gotta know how to act. I’m no good if there’s no audience. Some people can’t do it with an audience. The more people the better I am. Some people are self-conscious. I can switch it on or off. BM: Even the guys we know? VV: You have a lot of Italians that never had jobs before. They’re what you call fuckin’ wanna-be wiseguys. They come outta their house everyday and if it’s a nice day they take a walk. They gamble, they play horses, they hijack whatever. That’s how they make a living. But when a friend of their’s gets called, like say me; ‘Ah why would you play a part of a fuckin’ rat?! Ah, you’re a fuckin’ rat!’ Their mentality hasn’t went beyond their neighborhood. They never went to school. They were assholes all their lives, always thinking about how to make a fast buck. Not realizing I’m an actor, it’s only a part. You can’t do it, so because you can’t do it doesn’t mean that I can’t do it. I’m an actor. I’m not asking you for your opinion. I’ve done rap videos. I don’t even want to use the word. They say, I had to fuckin’ do rap videos with these people. Lemme explain somethin’. I love this neighborhood that I grew up in. I grew up on Bleeker Street, top of John’s Pizzeria. It was like a melting pot. There were Jews, Blacks, Irish, but they were all professional people, fags. When I used to see two guys and two girls walking by in the street holding hands, I use to say, wow they must really like each other. It didn’t mean anything to me. Some like to swing on a tree, some like to jump in a bush. Do whatever makes ya happy.

BM: So you would never trade places? VV: Nah. I like what I do. Ya wanna know why? All the time growin’ up as a kid there’s been a bunch of motherfuckers I’ve always wanted to choke, throw them around, put the motherfucker on fire. They say, ‘Vinny, you gotta baseball bat these guys!’ I’m doin’ all of this shit

to ‘em and getting’ paid for it! In all the time that I’ve been an actor, I took care of everybody that I disliked. I don’t say hate ‘cause I don’t hate anybody, but I straightened everybody’s ass out. Fucked every woman I wanted to fuck. They tell me, ‘Hey, Vinny great job! Here’s your pay!’ [Laughs] I’m happy! Who’s better than me?!

Words Brian Trunzo Photo Atif Ahmad After generations of Trunzo family butchery, Frank’s own Brian Trunzo muses over a lifetime of Italian heritage. My father is a butcher, as was his father, as was his father’s father. I am not a butcher, although sometimes I think it would be better if I were. Family tradition is one of the most sacred elements of Italian heritage, and any break in tradition is almost deemed a detriment to legacy. See, my father, Francesco Aurelio Trunzo, and his brother Pasquale immigrated to America and opened Trunzo Bros. Meat Market & Salumeria in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn over 30 years ago—way before I was even born. Some of my earliest childhood memories, as well as my most recent, revolve around iceboxes, meat cleavers, kitchens and delis. Living on Staten Island, it was always

exciting when my mother took me and my brothers to visit my father at work on Saturday afternoons. It was a glorious time for Bensonhurst Italians: 18th Avenue (Italians’ Bensonhurst stronghold) was flooded with clubs, cafés, Cadillacs and wiseguys. At the time I had no idea what was going on, but there was always something strange about the thick-accented guineas in shiny suits. In hindsight, I never really thought much of the pinstriped paisans, they were just a small part of the atmosphere. In the late- 80s, early- 90s, it felt like all of Bensonhurst gathered at my father’s store to buy their Sunday dinner meats, pasta, sauce etcetera. Every Brooklyn

or Staten Island Italian I’ve ever met shopped at Trunzo Bros. at least once in their lifetime—to this day I meet some of my friends’ parents and the first thing they ask me is, “Are you Frank’s son?” The store was always packed to the gills, and it would literally take five minutes to navigate from the front door to the butcher room, the entire time wrestling through crowds of Italian-speaking little old ladies while trying not to knock over an entire shelf of packaged pasta in the process. The icebox was always my favorite part of the store. There was nothing better in the entire world than punching a dead animal on a hook—my father taught me how to right cross a veal shank at the age of eight (I was convinced I had one up on Rocky; I mean, I was eight). By the time I was 10, I was a weekend regular at the Brooklyn and Manhattan meat market terminals. Waking up at 4:30 a.m. was a small sacrifice I was willing to take for the opportunity to stick my hand in buckets of cow brain and watch the deliveries from the slaughter houses get chopped up. I always had the best stories for the day after Take Your Kid to Work Day: “Wow Johnny, it must have been real cool to play with that calculator while your dad crunched numbers, all I got to do was play catch with a rabbit’s leg while my father de-boned pig ass…” Don’t think it was all barbaric—catering was a big thing back then. Christenings, birthdays, graduations, weddings and anniversaries were like red carpet galas, fully equipped with cocktail hours, hors d’ouevres, appetizers, entrees and desserts. Of course my

father catered every party, and why not? Everyone attended every function and was grateful to be there, plus my father loved watching the family mange like royalty. Looking for leftovers? Good luck. We sometimes left the Cotillion Terrace on 73rd Street looking as if it were ransacked by marauding heathens. But they loved us; we gave them a lot of business. Not much has changed since those days. Sure, the neighborhood has become a bit more diverse, but, dare I say, everyone loves good Italian food! I began to notice this at the age of 15, when I first helped my father as an extra hand in the kitchen on the weekends. The environment at Trunzo Bros. is too fast paced for a younginâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; with no experience to jump into, so I started off slow; frying potato croquettes and riceballs, chopping vegetables, flattening chicken cutlets, and running errands were my daily duties. Nothing very exciting, but work nonetheless. Within a year or two, however, I jumped into the other dimensions of the kitchenâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the cooking, baking and catering. Soon enough, I was a bona fide chef, master of the machete and capable of running the kitchen on my own. My kitchen skills always impress my friends; my roommates love when I cook a good Sunday sauce, and they always come over to my house on Staten Island for the holidays, when there is enough food to feed a family of wolves for a week. The winter holidays are the best time of year at the store: the catering orders swell, the icebox packs out and the deli line wraps around the store. Everyone pitches in a little extra to

make it work—12 to 15 hour days are not uncommon, with the kitchen and butcher staff coming in as early as 5 a.m. to get a jump start on the delivery orders. Christmas trees and nativities sets become part of the store’s décor, placed in front of the hanging sausage and cheese. Our deli men wear shirts and ties under their work jackets—my uncle Pasquale is very particular about this. Holiday specialties are made ad infinitum: pizza rustica, spinach pie, aneletti al forno, penne matriciana and my personal favorite, a simple steak pizzaiola with some scungili. We make about 50 lbs. of fresh mozzarella a day, every day, for the week leading up to Christmas—just mention fresh mozzarella to some people and they lose it, it’s one of those things you can’t even

explain, like why I never made it into the meat department with the butchers. I guess I never wanted to be a butcher in the first place; it’s just not my vibe. Working in the kitchen on weekends is just my fulfillment of the tacit oath of maintaining my heritage. Truth is my father was happy I didn’t find my way with the butchers—forget legacy and all that jazz. No matter what way you cut it—long hours, back-breaking labor and dangerous conditions—he didn’t want me to be a butcher anyway.

Visit the Zagat Rated Trunzo Bros. Meat Market & Salumeria at 6802 18th Ave, Brooklyn or at www.trunzobros.com

Words Jesse “Paola” Nicely Portrait Nayoun Kim From everyone’s favorite hype man to Italian tourist, Flavor Flav always manages to stand out. Yeah, you know what time it is, boyyyeee! Frank151: What experiences have you had in Italy?

favorite place is the Vatican because it’s close to the Roman Coliseum.

Flavor Flav: I’ve been going back and forth to Italy for over 14 years now, and I’ve made a lot of friends over there. I always loved Italian culture. My favorite spot in Italy is Milano because of the concepts they have there. My second

The thing that I really like about Italian culture is that it is so much different than American culture, and not only that, but the spaghetti sauce and pizza. The reason why I love the pizza is because over here, when you go

to get pizza, you get a slice, but over there, before you get your pizza they put it on a scale and weigh it. Also in Italy the spaghetti sauce is more original than that stuff they got here in the jars. You know what I mean? And I love my wine, my salad and my girls! And my music! And my peoples!

they got the best pizza in America right now! They were so warm, I met the whole family and there are mad bodies up in there!

F151: You love Italian music as well? Is there any Italian music that you’re listening to?

FF: My favorite thing I ate over there was chicken and steak dishes up in there. Love my potatoes, string beans, and carrots and stuff. I didn’t really eat much pizza over there, but I ate a lot of spaghetti and sauce and stuff.

FF: Yeah, sure I love Italian music! It’s just that some of the stuff I like listening to, I don’t know how to pronounce the names of these groups and stuff. But yeah, I got some Italian music I listen to. I even ride around in my car listening to Italian music every now and then. F151: Talking about the difference between American and Italian pizza, what would you say is the best pizza in New York?

F151: Man you love your pizza. Would you say pizza was your favorite dish in Italy?

F151: I noticed from watching the show Strange Love that you didn’t want to try some of the food they offered you. FF: Yeah, I wasn’t feelin’ some of this, I wasn’t feelin’ some of that. When I saw something I thought I wouldn’t like, I didn’t go crazy over it.

“I love my wine, my salad and my girls!” FF: The best pizza in New York is the original form of pizza we used to eat when we were young. Today the recipe is too different, everybody got different pizza recipes and all of this shit. You know what I mean? I like my original recipe! The old cheese and old pizza sauce. F151: Is there a particular pizza spot that you like in New York? FF: Nah, nah, nah, but there’s this place down on Myrtle Beach. I’m gonna fly all the way down to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for this place to get pizza! Donatelli’s down in Myrtle Beach,

F151: What were some of the things you absolutely hated? FF: Man tomatoes, I don’t eat tomatoes! I don’t eat squash and stuff like that either. It’s just certain things I don’t eat. F151: What about the sports over there, did you get into any soccer? FF: I couldn’t because I couldn’t really watch TV too much because we were always shooting TV [for the show]. You know what I’m saying, we were doing 24 hour TV over there! But I really like the sports over there; there

were times when I went to sports games over there. But that’s when I was over there as Public Enemy. F151: How did the fans react over there to Public Enemy?

art I saw on the streets, the artwork on the buildings and the architecture. Just the artwork of the city man! I like the paintings on the walls inside the restaurants and stuff. I was able to get into the art like that.

FF: We own Italy son! Italy belongs to us when we go there. It’s like we took over Italy son! Definitely the fans love us because we always love our fans.

F151: Is there anything over there you discovered that you brought back with you to the states like a custom or something?

F151: What’s your favorite thing about Italian women?

FF: Definitely, having some red wine with my salad! [Laughter] Having some red wine with my salad and cuttin’ up some mozzarella on top of my salad with little small pieces of

FF: A lot of Italian women are generous and I like generosity out of women.

“My favorite thing I ate over there was chicken and steak dishes up in there. Love my potatoes, string beans, and carrots and stuff.” F151: What do you miss most about Italy and what makes you want to go back there? FF: Mainly my friends. After I finish doing whatever I always go out and enjoy a night on the town with my friends. Seeing new things; I like landscape, I’m a landscape guy cause I’m from New York, and New York’s landscape isn’t so great, so when you go to other countries you appreciate their landscape. So I’m like a nightlandscape person too because I love beautiful lights and stuff like that. F151: Were you able to take in any of the art when you were in Italy? You visit any of the museums? FF: Nah, I wasn’t able to go to any of the art museums or anything. The only art I was really able to enjoy was the

salami! Oh I know how to do it bro! Boy, your man Flav got a little Italiano up in him man! [Laughter] Ciao tutti and all of that stuff! F151: Is there anything you’d like to add in closing? FF: I’d just like to say it was one of the greatest experiences Flavor ever had was going to Lake Cuomo over in Bellagio. I really loved it, it was like living out of a storybook. I really liked going to that winery and stomping those grapes to make the wine. It was really fun, and I would love to go back there and do that stuff again. I would love to get me a house over there some day. Yo this is Flavor Flav and the job is never done, just keep opening up Frank OneFive-One,boyyyyyyy-eeeeeeeeeee! Yeah that’s right! Ha!

Words John Campo & Ben Rekhi Photos Alex Rhee Anything you can think of, I’ve probably seen it. I’ve been down the darkest alleyways, the meanest streets, in the coldest nights, in the most sun-burnt, maggot-infested days. You don’t know me and you probably don’t give two shits about me, but I see it all in the trash. I’m that guy that makes your garbage disappear every morning. But whether you love me or hate me, you’ve got to respect me. You try picking up 12 tons of trash a night, every day, for 20 years, tell me this ain’t the hardest work out there. I’ve seen guys crush their backs on this job; I mean their vertebrates just turn to powder. Guys get cancer on this job. Guys get burned by acid on this job. I’ve been caught in the middle of gunfire picking up trash. I was once stuck in the stomach with a hypodermic needle that someone left in a taped up coffee can, all just to get the shit off the streets. If it weren’t for me, this city would come to a halt, buried in its own trash. Everything you own will one day pass through my hands. But you know what? After 20 years of picking up garbage in this dirty-ass-city, you can take this job and kiss my big fat New York fucking ass. I remember the first time I sat in a garbage truck; I was 5 years old. My family and I lived in Canarsie, it was the Little Italy of Brooklyn. This truck pulled

up outside, and man it could’ve been 100 miles long, I’d never seen anything so big. My father, Salvatore Campo, the truest of New York city workers, jumped out of the truck in full uniform. It was like watching General Patton leaping down from his tank. He was in his late-20s and had already been on the job for a couple of years. “C’mon Johnny, get in the truck, I’ll give you a ride.” He threw me in the cab right next to his partner Goomba Sammy. We cruised down the streets in that tank, watching the world pass us by. Not too long into the ride, this foreman pulls up behind us and motions for my dad to pull over. They told me to lay down on the seat and threw a bunch of coats on me. They told me not to move. My dad walked over to deal with the boss while I sat there holding my breath. The foreman was asking them a bunch of questions, just busting their balls, and I heard my dad throwing it right back at him. “We’re just finishing up our lunch break, what’s your problem?” he said. When my dad came back he and Goomba Sammy were laughing their asses off. “Foreman never saw you. You did good, Johnny, you did good. You wasn’t a rat!” That was my dad, Sally the Stitch. I had no idea that 25 years later I would be watching the world pass me by through the same

windows that my dad sat behind. I always wanted to go to college. I had ambitions; I wanted to be a writer. But I came from a working class family and my father just couldn’t afford it. Plus, everyone around me was shooting up and eating sheets of acid, and even though I smoke pot to this day, I sure as hell wasn’t getting mixed up in no chemicals. I didn’t have too many choices, stay in my neighborhood and die or get the fuck out. So I stumbled from a bar to the recruitment office and eight days later I was in the Navy, traveling the world. I smoked hash in Pakistan, hung out with the PLO in Jordan, got shot at on the coast of Vietnam; sometimes you don’t know where life is going to take you. There I was, on this spy ship with the highest tech equipment, and the crew

he was right, city jobs offer the best benefits in the world. Full pension, dental, medical; you put in your 20 years and you’re set for the rest of your life. But picking up garbage? That was the last thing I wanted to do with my life. I was a musician. I was happy playing my harmonica in the village, working as a cook, blowing up the street for money. But none of that had a future in it. City job was a career. So I started working for the man. Garbagemen, in a way, they’ve got it better than other civil servants. Cops get shot at. Firemen gotta run into burning buildings every day. Sanitation was the only civil service job where you could get the benefits without putting your life at risk every time you go to the office. But I learned pretty

“That putrid, nasty, gut-wrenching odor that just hits you in the face on a hot, 95-degree day.” was high as shit the whole time. I was playing harmonica when I met my friend Steve, who would become my bro for life. He and I became like blood, and no matter what happened before or since then, he’s been there for me. We grew up real quick on that boat. I became a real human being. When I finally came back to New York, I couldn’t find a job to make me happy. I had stints as a cook, a taxi driver, a factory worker, a construction worker, you name it. One morning my dad threw me out of bed and made me take the civil service exam. “Ain’t no better job for the working man than the sanitation,” was his logic. And

quickly that when you’re working for the city you cease to be a person. You become just a number to them. As a sanitation worker, the city has one objective for you: get the garbage off the streets. It doesn’t matter if there is 20 in. of snow or 100 degrees of heat. You maybe have to battle your way through an army of rats, or pick up a 2000 lbs. dead horse, but whatever it takes, just get it off the streets. Period. If you told me I was going to see half the shit I ended up getting involved in on that truck, I would have told you, “Fuck no, no thanks.” The dirt comes with the territory. When you’re working with the garbage you see all the people’s trash.

I remember this one time, when I was a foreman, I was listening to the radio one day and I heard the story of this guy that drove a small truck to drop off some plastic barrels at the dump. The foreman on the other end of the radio had opened the barrels up and saw that this guy had killed his wife and cut her in half, one half in each barrel. Over the radio waves this foreman was yelling, “Oh shit, get cops over here! This guys running! He’s running!” Nothing like a police hunt through the trash heaps at Fresh Kills. In my first few years on the job, a drug gang shot a cop in the head right near Jamaica, Queens. It was big news, all over the papers and stuff; this was the worst part of New York, at that time. My partner and I were working the block when we saw a car pull up. Two dudes just parked it and sat there. When we came back from our nine o’clock break, the car looked like a fucking slaughterhouse. Someone had shot them dead, big splatter all over the windshield. Then it dawned on me, if I wasn’t in a garbage truck with that uniform on I wouldn’t have been allowed in that neighborhood. I would’ve been killed along with those two jerk-offs in the car. But garbagemen, we’re allowed in every neighborhood in the world. That’s one of the only things I loved about this fucking job. You got a free pass into worlds where no one else is allowed. Nobody fucks with you. Cops, drug dealers, crack heads, businessmen; everybody’s happy to see you because you keep the city clean. Everybody loves you, especially on Christmas.

But there are those assholes that hate us. They just don’t have a fucking clue what we do. When I was working on the eastside of Manhattan, there was this dude in a Corvette convertible that pissed me off so bad, to this day I’ve never been so full of rage. I had the truck in the street and this dickhead kept trying to pass me but couldn’t. He was honking his horn, revving the engine, he just fucking couldn’t wait. I was right in the middle of humping the garbage up, and I mean really heaving these bags, it would’ve only taken me another minute when this guy sticks his head out the window and screamed to his girlfriend “Look at these niggers.” Now I’ve always been a pretty peaceful guy, but in that moment, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rip his head off and shove it up his ass. C’mon you asshole, c’mon you rich Long Island fuck. Quit showing off in front of your girlfriend and come out here and say that again. I slowed down my movements to a snail’s pace, just hoping that this guy would get out of his car. He felt that just because he was in a Corvette and I was in a garbage truck that he could say what he wanted to me. He felt that he was better than me. I finally understood and connected with anyone who has experienced racism, and it was all because I was wearing that uniform and throwing those bags. And I haven’t even gotten to the worst part of that job: the smell. That putrid, nasty, gut-wrenching odor that just hits you in the face on a hot, 95 degree day. I would wash and wash and wash to get the smell off me sometimes. One time, after somebody’s nasty ass fish was decomposing in the can, my

Photo Ben Rekhi

partner and I had to work eight hours with the most rancid odor I’ve ever smelt in my life following us. I still get chills just thinking about it. I went home that night and threw my uniform away. I hated that job. Ironically most guys on the job hated me. But fuck them; they were just a bunch of knuckleheads. I was a fucking rebel. They would run, do a good job, get done early, go into the locker room and watch cartoons. My politics are leave me the fuck alone. Johnny Campo never ran, and never will. These guys run and run and never ask no questions why. They’re like trained dogs. I remember these two jackasses were working in Brooklyn when they found 50,000 bucks in an alley way dumpster, and the idiots turned this shit in! I couldn’t believe it. It’s like finding the lottery in a suitcase, all unmarked bills, and handing it back over to the same city that pays them shit and runs them into the ground. Fucking morons. And that’s why I think all city workers are assholes. They don’t stand up for what they think they deserve. When my dad was working, you could raise a family on city wages. Nowadays the economy says that you gotta have a million bucks just to have an apartment the size of a bathroom in New York City. The police, firemen, and sanitation workers are the heart and soul of the city, the salt of the earth, but can’t even afford to live in the city. We’re like the butlers and maids of the rich. Yes sir, no sir. Whatever you say, boss. A guy who picks up 13 tons of garbage can’t even support his family. There is something fucked up with the American dream when the working man can’t even live

in the city that he keeps running. Just like my dad, I put in my 20 years and retired. When you work for that long and then finally get some time to yourself the transition can be a bit bumpy. I got real depressed, living out of my four-story walkup, cockroach infested apartment. Even though I was born in Manhattan and lived my whole life there, I knew if I stayed in NYC any longer I was gonna die. And at that moment, when I just didn’t care any more, my friend Steve called me and said he had a house on the Pacific Ocean I could stay in. There it is, take it or leave it. It was a God-send. And the love of my life, Alicia, she’s been with me through thick and thin, she told me I had to go out there. She really made it possible for me to jump off the mountain. In a week’s notice, I left everything behind in New York and hopped on a plane. Now I’m two minutes to the ocean. This place is like a dream, a painting; it’s so beautiful out here. I went from the darkest hell to the brightest heaven. I spent all those years looking at the garbage and now I got a palm tree in my front yard. And it’s all because of the people I love. It’s not about what you own or material things. All of that shit will one day end up in the garbage. In the end it’s about the people you surround yourself with and the love you have. So as I look at the waves crashing when the sun is going down, I can’t help but smile that I made it this far. I should’ve died 10 times over by now. But here I am telling my story to you. Now go ahead, throw this magazine away too, I’m not going to bring it to the dump for you anyway.

Words Jess Lechuga Photos Janet Gigante

Grand Champion Belmonte La Faccia Gia, 2003 Bitch of the Year.

The Cane Corso (pronounced ka – nay) is a beautiful breed of dogs whose history dates back before the Roman Empire. Frank151 had a chance to speak with Ismail Moore, a breeder of Cane Corso, to learn more about this mighty breed whose popularity is rapidly increasing. Frank151: Where were the first Cane Corso bred? Ismail Moore: Cane Corsos are from Italy. They actually originate from the ancient Roman Molossus, the Canis Pugnax. Two dogs derived from that dog. One is the Cane Corso, and the other is the Neopolitan Mastiff. F151: So how do they differ from the more well know Italian breed, the Neopolitan Mastiff? IM: Well, the Cane Corso is a smaller, more athletic, agile dog. The Cane Corso was also used for hunting. The Neopolitan was a much bigger, less active dog. That dog didn’t really chase anyone, and it was not doing any type of hunting. The Romans used to use them to hunt wild boar and stag as well as badger. This is why they kept the

tails kind of long on the Cane Corso. The badgers would mess up a lot of the crops and the men would go out at night and hunt them. The Corso would go in the holes and grab the badgers. When they did that, the hunters would pull them up by their tails. Once they got it out, they could shoot the badger. The Corso they used was fog-colored, light-colored. This way they wouldn’t accidentally shoot the dog. F151: For what reasons were they originally bred, say to fight lions or gladiators or something like that? IM: Yes, the Canis Pugnax was a war dog the Romans used during war time. They also used to pit them against lions during the Roman Empire. But, as the Cane Corso was developing, it was mostly used as a dog guarding property and guarding flocks.

F151: Can you give me a bit of doggy history? IM: In its entirety, Cane means dog, and Corso, for the most part, means guardian or a rustic guardian dog. For years people have been calling these dogs Cane Corso, but it wasn’t actually a race, or breed of dog. It was just any dog that had cropped ears, a cropped tail, and guarded property. Not until around the 1970s that a gentleman by the name of Dr. Pablo Breber cried out that these dogs were going to be extinct. They [Breber and his colleagues] started doing recovery programs. They didn’t get accepted officially to the FCPR [Federation Canine Puerto Rico,

from 90 lbs. to tops 125. The females generally should be 80 lbs. to around 105. You can find them much bigger, but they really shouldn’t be too much bigger than that. The dog is supposed to be agile with stamina and strength, so it could do a lot of the things it was originally bred for. F151: These dogs are big. Is there a right candidate for a Corso owner? IM: There is a right candidate. It is a person who has owned dogs before, who’s experienced with dominant breeds like Rottweilers, Dobermans, Pit Bulls, or something else that has a dominant nature. The typical owner

“Canis Pugnax was a war dog... the Romans used to pit them against lions.” international registry] until eight years ago when they made a standard Cane Corso. In America, a guy named Mike Sottile had went to Italy and bought some dogs, supposedly in 1988. They started a standard here. But it wasn’t the official Italian standard. F151: How do you think they came back in demand? IM: Pablo Breber was the main guy who got them recognized by the FCPR, which was the international registry. Since they got officially recognized by the FCPR registry, it’s been going crazy. People will call from all over the world looking for these dogs. F151: How big do they actually get? Have they always been this way? IM: Typically the standard is, for males,

is someone who has had a guardian dog as a kid, and they may have put their dog to sleep because it was old and wanted to get a different breed. The Cane Corso is different and they heard a lot of good things about it. Then they get one. Normally when they get one, they never want another dog again. F151: How many Cane Corso are bred per year in the US and how many are there currently in the US? IM: How many are bred? Whoo! I couldn’t tell you the actual number, but it’s well into the thousands. Roughly, a few years ago, it was estimated around 3,000. I know it’s got to be well over 10,000 now. F151: How would you describe the wrong candidate for the Corso owner?

IM: First time dog owner! It’s not for people who don’t want something that’s active or for people who have problems disciplining their kids, because these dogs do need to be disciplined. F151: What reason are they primarily sold for here? IM: Well, mostly for a combination of family companion and guard dog. People have families and [the dog] makes sure the family will stay safe in their beds. It is something that is going to help protect the property but not be too overly aggressive.

exercise. They don’t need extreme amounts, but they do need a moderate amount of exercise. I would say at least roughly about an hour a day would suffice; some running around, playing some games. These dogs—if they are not stimulated and left alone for a long period of time—can become destructive. These dogs do like a great deal of human interaction. They are not the type of dogs that you put out on your kennel and don’t deal with anymore. F151: How long has the Dream Team Kennel been breeding Corsos? How many do you specifically breed a year?

F151: So you have to be willing to take them out and play with them?

IM: For five years now. We mainly have about three litters a year.

IM: Any large breed needs a lot of

F151: Any final comments you would

like to add about the dog or Dream Team Kennels? IM: There are differences between the American and the Italian. For the most part, the American dog that we have been breeding here since ‘88 has actually been the wrong type of dog, especially the dog’s head type. Pablo Breber knew this. It wasn’t favorable for them to tell people it was the wrong type of dog. They were making money. But in the end, people came to find out the head type is incorrect for the breed.

Most of the American dogs have nose stops on their heads and have very long and narrow muzzles. They also have the wrong type of bite, which is a scissors bite. The dog should have a reverse scissors bite or undershot. A lot of people misinform. Some people just don’t care. And you got others that have been doing it for so long, they don’t want to seem like they’ve been wrong. They don’t want to change things. If you show it, people are going to have to change because those types of dogs are wanted less and less.

Words Tim Brodhagen Photos Craig Wetherby In this country’s depressingly dilapidated cultural landscape true artifacts of the old way are hard to come by. God Bless the Italians! Without them the US-of-A would be a staggeringly more stagnant place. Take, for example, the Dance of the Giglio (pronounced Geelee-o). Taking place in only 6 places worldwide (Berra, Brusciano, and Nola, Italy, and in the U.S. Williamsburg, Crooklyn, East Harlem, and Massapequa Strong Island), the Dance of the Giglio shows how far Italians will go to represent. The legend of the Giglio goes back to 409 AD when San Paolino di Nola was freed from his enslavement by the Huns and rather than be freed alone, would only leave if all the other men of Nola were freed too. The Huns did let all the Nola heads go and not too surprisingly, Paolino became a big hero. The huge statue with San Paolino on the top is meant to represent the mad bouquets of

lilies that all the townspeople brought out to pay respect to Paolino after he died. In fact, Gigli, is Italian for Lily. But the Dance of the Giglio ain’t all pretty flowers. Picking up a 7-story tall statue and dancing around with it in perfect time to a marching band is no easy task and the dance isn’t just made up as it goes along. The entire spectacle is carefully organized in a way that’s actually quite similar to another very successful Italian enterprise that shall remain unnamed. You see each dance is overseen by a Capo, delegated by 4 lieutenants, and carried out by over 100 foot soldiers, here known as Paranza (lifter in Italian). The whole thing, dancing, singing, and making sure the whole tower doesn’t flatten the few thousand faithful onlookers, is better executed than the Valentines Day Massacre. Check it out sometime, in person, it’s unbelievable. The Dance of the Giglio takes place every year on June 22.

Words Kim Chey Photo Cinzia Bertodatto Italyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s annual Festival de Ivrea is a four day event that culminates with the famous Battle of the Oranges. The piazzas and squares are transformed into battlegrounds where over 10,000 participants dressed in historical costume pelt and pummel each other with oranges. The main battle is between those standing on the chariots, representing the aristocracy, and those standing on the ground, representing the masses. While the chariots charge around the streets, smaller orange battles are formed as people divide into teams and begin to fight each other. This Italian tradition is believed to have originated from a peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s revolt against Count Ranieri of Biandrate for liberty and freedom of expression during the 12th century. Biandrate was known for taking away young brides-to-be and deflowering them before their wedding day. After the people overthrew the tyrant and beheaded him, they celebrated by throwing stones, which are now replaced by oranges. The huge number of oranges isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t being wasted merely for this event; they are actually the excess fruit from the Italian harvest which must be destroyed anyway under an EU agreement. The madness lasts for several hours leaving the streets filled with oranges.

Words Adam Bhala Lough Horror film director Dario Argento (born 1940, Rome, Italy) is sometimes called â&#x20AC;&#x153;the Italian Hitchcockâ&#x20AC;?, but this handle fails to do justice the godfather of the modern day splatter film. Celebrated for his striking visual style rather than for plot or structure (which are both often completely absent from his films) Argento is a true master of cinematic technique. In his heyday (mid-70s through early80s) his idiosyncratic use of color, music (often synthesized score composed before the film is even shot) and cinematography proved decades ahead of his time. But his gory, sadistic movies failed to resonate with a main-

stream American audience, relegating him to minor cult status and underground respect throughout his career. Steve Argento (born 1970, Trenton, USA) claims to be Darioâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s second cousin.

A local independent filmmaker and assistant manager at a Hollywood Video in New Jersey, he has directed three short films and one no-budget feature Bloodthirst: the Thirst for Blood which he describes as a “slasher-porn with a kick ass house music soundtrack and some tripped out murder scenes blended with lots of titty shots of some fine-ass Italian broads and also some black chicks.” Randomly Googling “Argento” we stumbled across Steve’s retarded ass website. We couldn’t resist the temptation to contact him over email and he agreed to a follow up phone interview. The following is an abridged transcript of our dumb conversation. Adam Bhala Lough: Hello, Steve. Steve Argento: ‘Sup. ABL: Critics and filmmakers around the world consider Dario Argento one of the greatest horror directors in the history of modern cinema. So why is his name hardly known stateside? SA: ‘Cause man his shit’s too hardcore for these pussies out here man. ABL: Example? SA: Check out the barbed wire scene in Suspiria. It’s like this scene I got in my new movie Bloodthirst 2 where this serial killer’s boning this fly chick from behind and then he strangles her with barbed wire. As he busts a nut she spits up blood and her head rolls off. A: Many critics have labeled Argento a misogynist.

Steve: Fuckin’ A, right dude…(awkward moment of silence) ABL: He’s been quoted as saying, ‘I like women, especially beautiful ones. If they have a good face and figure, I would much prefer to watch them being murdered than an ugly girl or man. I certainly don’t have to justify myself to anyone about this. I don’t care what anyone thinks or reads into it. I have often had journalists walk out of interviews when I say what I feel about this subject.’ SA: There’s this scene in my new movie where these guys go to a strip club to shake down a Colombian drug lord and they all get lapdances. ABL: A little known fact, Argento produced George Romero’s classic Dawn of the Dead which was remade last year. SA: The remake kind of blows. Plus they ripped off this scene in my new movie where these hot ass sorority chicks have a slumber party and they find this old mystical book and do this bugged out chant which causes all these zombies to be risen up from the dead in a nearby graveyard and then the zombies come to the sorority house and eat all them bitches. ABL: Has this movie been shot yet? SA: We’re in the early stages of financing. Hold on, I got a customer… ABL: Goblin, Argento’s frequent composer, scored the original Dawn of the Dead. Because nearly all his films were dubbed (therefore no need to shoot

sync sound) Argento would blast pieces of score on the film set to inject a mood of fear and suspense onto the entire cast and crew. The result is purely transcendent, with camera, actors and music moving and blending in perfect harmony. But to some purists dubbing remains a cheap tool synonymous with Kung Fu films and Bollywood musicals that lessens the voyeur experience.

SA: Yo I love the dream sequence in Tenebre where that chick curb stomps that dude on the beach and then shoves her high heel in his mouth. That chick is slamming bro.

SA: Them shits is dubbed? I don’t know what the fuck I been smoking.

SA: Uhhh...

ABL: On film sets during the silent era an orchestra would play the actors’ favorite songs while the camera rolled. It gave the movies a dream-like quality, separated them from reality. Argento’s work has the same surrealism.

ABL: That’s a transsexual. SA: Bullshit. ABL: Seriously. His name is Roberto.

ABL: Steve, we noticed in the ‘About Me’ section of your company website you have a photo of yourself with your shirt off. SA: (Steve hangs up.)

ABL: Dario Argento is a noted supporter of Italian soccer team Lazio. His daughter Asia Argento is also a director and actress, appearing in a number of his later films and directing The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival last year. Steve’s favorite murder scenes: • In Tenebre this chick gets her arm lopped off with an axe and then watches in wide-eyed amazement as blood spurts out of the stump, painting the wall behind her. • In the first 15 minutes of Suspiria two girls get slashed up, one gets her face pushed through a glass window then gets stabbed repeatedly, hung by a

clothesline and dropped through a glass ceiling. • In Tenebre this lesbian comes home to find out her lover boned out some pimp. After a super long shot floating around the entire apartment for no reason a serial killer with a straight razor slits the lesbian’s throat and then hacks up her lover who falls dead with her head through a window. • In Opera, Daria Nicolodi (Argento’s wife at the time) gets herself shot through a peephole. • The spear-through-the-head-murder in Phenomena (released as Creepers in the US). • Suspiria – the barbed wire scene.

Words Kaves One, Lordz Of Brooklyn Photos Craig Wetherby

Uncle Frank was born in 1929 in AlĂ Terme, a small, poor beach town right outside of Messina, Sicily. He and his identical twin brother, Carmelo were born one minute apart. They were the youngest of eight children, six brothers and two sisters. After World War II, at age 14, Frank and Carmelo went to Messina to work for their older brother, Gianni, as shoemaker apprentices. In their leisure time Carmelo and Frank would take the train back home to the beach. At 19-year-old, Carmelo went to search for more work in Milan. He got a job at Ferragemo shoe company making custom shoes. Shortly after, Carmelo opened his own shop making and repairing custom shoes. Frank soon joined Carmelo and they worked together in the shop. At age 21, according to Italian law, a man had to enter the military. In the case of

male twins, only one twin had to join. Frank volunteered to serve and went to Verona for training. He served his duty on the island of Gaeta as an army jail guard. Gaeta jail was notorious for its horrible conditions. Before his 18 month tenure was up he reached the rank of Corporal. Upon release from the military, Frank went back to Milan where his brother, Rocco, was now a police officer. He continued working at the shoe shop with Carmelo. At 23, Frank and Carmelo went on a mid-August vacation back to their home town. This is where Frank met his wife, Domenica. The couple was married and six months later they moved to America settling in Brooklyn, NY. Two years later Frank returned to Italy to convince Carmelo to move to the United States. Carmelo gave the store to his older

brother, Rocco, and went with Frank to the U.S. Upon their arrival, they immediately set up shop. Carmelo had the idea to go into the sneaker business. He had a friend in Milan who sold the vulcanizing machinery to manufacture sneakers. Carmelo and Frank hooked up with two business men/shoe salesmen and raised $50,000 to start their sneaker business. At the time sneakers were only used in schools for gym class and it was very difficult to put sneakers on the market. But Carmelo and Frank thought there might be a future for sneakers. It took about six months for the 12 machines to be imported from Milan. During which time they formed the company ACIMS Manufacturing and made all of their contacts for the materials, obtaining the rubber from BF Goodrich Company. They

named the sneaker brand Hi-Jo. The sneakers were made in assorted colors and styles. The company lasted for approximately three years with product placed in various shoe stores, and department stores such as Macyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. The sneakers were wholesaling for $1.25 and retailing for $3.25. When popularity for sneakers grew, so did big business and their small Brooklyn company could no longer compete with the 99 cent competitor. The company folded in 1962. At that time, Carmelo went to work as a foreman for Accurate Sneaker Company, which was a bigger sneaker factory that produced 3,500 pairs of sneakers per day in two shifts. But even this factory had to eventually close due to the cheaper priced sneakers being imported from Japan and China.

Carmelo then made it into the Tin Knocker Union and worked for five years on the construction of the World Trade Center and also Trump Tower. After the close of ACIMS, Frank opened Frank’s Shoe Repair in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. At that time, the neighborhood consisted primarily of Italians, Irish and Norwegians. Then a second wave of Puerto Rican and Dominican immigrants settled in. As the city changed and poverty set into Sunset Park, violence and drug trafficking soon followed. Sunset Park became a very dangerous place in the 1970s and 80s. The crack epidemic plagued the neighborhood. But Frank’s place stayed the same. A visit to his shop will take you back in time, from the tin ceilings to the piles of shoes. Some shoes are packed still awaiting pick-up by their owners since 1962!

His loyal patrons from generation to generation, from Italians to Mexicans still frequent Frank’s shop. Frank speaks Italian and Spanish. As he helps a Spanish woman fix her pocketbook, you can see his charm and his eyes sparkle as if he was still that 14-year-old apprentice in Messina. If you ask Frank about retiring he would reply, “For what?” Frank claims his secret to a long successful marriage is owed to his shoe shop. Both Frank and Carmelo raised families of their own. Frank and his wife Domenica have two sons and four grandchildren. Carmelo and his wife Velia had three daughters and one son. They have five grandchildren. Who knows, if Carmelo and Frank would have had it their way, maybe Nike would have had an accented é?

Words Jesse Nicely

In 1980, Joe Dolce, an Italian American musician living in Australia, created the cult classic song “Shaddap You Face”, which went on to become an international pop phenomenon selling millions of copies worldwide and hitting number one on numerous music charts. Now celebrating its 25th Anniversary, the catchy tune has gone on to become a beloved favorite in Italian communities worldwide, playing at locations such as Italian soccer games and Staten Island weddings and Christmas parties alike. Frank151 had the chance to catch up with Mr. Dolce and hear his thoughts on the enduring success of “Shaddap You Face”, and all thing’s Italian. Frank151: What inspired you to move from America to Australia? Joe Dolce: I was born in Plainsville, Ohio, a third generation Italian American. My grandparents were the carriers of all the recipes and the language from Calabria, Sicily. Back in the 60s I got into the counter culture. I always had this dream of moving out to California where all that great music was happening. Eventually I ended up in Berkeley where I met and married an Australian girl, went to Australia for a visit and decided to stay here. F151: What do you attribute to the success of “Shaddap You Face”? JD: I think that the main reason my song actually succeeded was because of a difference in culture. Basically all ethnic people in Australia are much more marginalized than in the states. When I left the states, Italians were

pretty much strongly in the arts, in politics, in films. Everyone knew Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett. In Australia there was nothing like that. There were no major positions in the arts or politics held by Italians. When I came out singing that song, here it was very political. It was very social because no Italian person or even representation of Italian heritage stepped forward and developed a stage with that kind of force. The political and the social aspects were something that allowed it to get some attention. F151: When it came out, was it embraced by the community of Italians in Australia? JD: I don’t think at first, but then everyone liked it pretty much across the board. I remember feeling a bit unsure after I had recorded it, because I hung out at a lot of the Italian cafés and I was unsure how it was actually going to be received. I remember going around to a couple of my favorite places and almost apologizing in advance just in case. But I pretty much didn’t have to worry about that. It was pretty successful from the beginning. F151: People realized that it was all in good fun? JD: Once it actually broke through, because nobody would release it at first. It wasn’t in any genre that was commercial. None of the radio stations or record companies were interested. Except this really small label that believed in it, we went out and got one radio station to play it. There was a huge reaction, the public basically

kept ringing up the radio station really hassling them to play it over and over and over again. Eventually, that’s what kept it going and got through. Most of the people that were non-Italian had a problem with it first, because they liked it and thought it was funny. But they thought their Italian friends would find it insulting, because what it did was magnified a lot of stereotypes Australians had about Italians. It magnified it in such a way that they thought it was actually, ‘who let the cat out of the bag?’ What they didn’t realize was that Italians had as good a sense of humor as anyone else about setting themselves up. F151: When did you realize it had become a world wide phenomenon? JD: There were three things. The first thing was the phone started ringing for a change, instead of me having to ring everyone else. Everyone started ringing me. The second thing I remember going out to this little club, and when I sang “Shaddap You Face”—it had already been out for a while—everyone knew the words. They all started singing and I knew something was different. The third thing that happened was my friend Mike Brady who took the song to France and came back with a 15 record deal for me and was going to make me a millionaire from them. I couldn’t believe that. I understood getting successful in Australia and making maybe about $20,000. When he came back and said that, it shocked me.

F151: There was a BBC poll where “Shaddap” was voted the worst song in history. Are you familiar with that? JD: Yeah, I remember that. You know that same poll I think voted the worst album in history Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I cut that out and saved it. Who in their right mind could vote Sgt. Pepper as the worst album of all time? F151: I listened to your other work, and it showed an obvious musical talent beyond the novelty of “Shaddap You Face”. Some people might throw around the title ‘one-hit wonder’. Do you feel in any way that it closed doors for you? JD: I thought about that for years and I have some pretty strong ideas about that. In fact, Woody Allen says something about when you have a big success; it is really good to have a couple big flops so you actually get humility. You get clarity on what’s going on, in terms of what markets are and how they actually have to do with real life. Because people who are successful all the time, they kind of lose touch with reality. They’re in another world. Strange successes like Howard Hughes or Michael Jackson. People can get so successful, they’re so insolated that they really have no idea anymore what reality is. I think I was lucky in a way because I actually was able to do other things from the beginning and I knew it. I could never understand why the people that liked “Shaddap You Face” didn’t like my other stuff and I thought it was just crazy. I later realized that we shouldn’t expect an audience to understand everything we do if we really want to be a pioneer in our heart.

Whatʼs-a matta you, hey, gotta no respect What-a you think you do, why you look-a so sad Itʼs-a not so bad, itʼs-a nice-a place Ah, shaddap you face

To listen to “Shaddap You Face” log on to www.frank151.com/shaddap

Words & Photos Matteo Mariani

My great-grandfather, Mr. Romeo Mariani, was born in Ancona in 1893. When he was five years old his parents moved to Milan. Mr. Romeo Mariani married Albertina in 1915 and they had my grandfather in 1918, Renato Mariani. In 1932 Romeo Mariani opened a garage with a repair shop, car wash, and petrol station. In 1941 Mr. Renato Mariani left the Mariani Garage to join the army. He was a lieutenant of the battalion in

Greece and after Badoglio signed the Armistizio, the Germans took my grandfather to a concentration camp as a prisoner of war. In 1945 he ran away from the concentration camp and went back to Italy. He started to care about the garage and he created the business of renting a car with a driver. The first cars that he bought were three Fiat 1400s and a Pakard. In the beginning, maybe itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s best to say for the first 10 years, it was very difficult. Can you imagine? The

war had just finished, the country was destroyed, and a lot of people were really poor. Nevertheless, he followed his idea. In 1949 Renato Mariani married Liliana Giussani and in 1951 they had my father Mauro Mariani. The 60s were very good years for our business. Italy was a country in economic expansion, and by the 70s we already carried 14 cars: 10 Fiat 2100s, one Chevrolet and three Mercedes-Benz 190/200.

In 1974 my father finished military service and began working in the family business, bringing new energy to the firm. Year after year business became bigger and biggerâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Italy, especially Milan, became a very trendy place and tourism increased. Fashion shows moved from Florence to Milan, and Milan became Italyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fashion city. Eventually, Milan became the most important business city in Italy, so our business increased a lot.

By the end of the 80s we were carrying 32 cars, most of them Mercedes E class or S class. By the time I arrived in 1998, we started the collection of wedding cars. Now my father and I travel a lot, especially to the UK, to buy Rolls Royce and Bentley automobiles; we go to America to buy Lincoln limousines too. Right now we carry 45 cars, including:

Mercedes classes E, S and V Audi A6 and A8 Lancia Thesis Rolls Royce Silver Wraith 1950 Rolls Royce Silver Spirit Bentley S1 1959 Bentley S2 Cabrio

Lincoln Royale Limousine Setra 16, 20, 35 and 50 Pax

We plan to become bigger and biggeras big as we can. We have had some famous clients, too. We work with a lot of famous people: Italian TV stars, Italian soccer players, Versace, A.C. Milan soccer club, and we are currently working with Sony Music and Edel Label so we can take care of their artists that come to Italy for album promotions or concerts. The meaning of my company is very difficult to explain. I can say that my firm is a piece of my heart.

Words Schui Schumacher Images Courtesy Grucci Fireworks Everyone likes a good bang, and no one gives it better than the Italians. Fireworks have long been a family tradition in Italy where some of the first masters of the art started learning their craft through apprenticeships with local pyrotechnics. During the 1800s many Italians immigrated to the United States, made their way through Ellis Island, and brought with them their knowledge and passion for extravagant fireworks displays. Frank151 recently spoke with Mr. Philip Butler, a Senior Vice President at Grucci Fireworks, for some insight on the Italian fireworks phenomenon. According to Mr. Butler, Grucci is one of the oldest Italian fireworks families and traces its roots back to the 1850s

in Bari, Italy. The title of “First Family of Fireworks” was first bestowed on the Grucci family when they went to the Monte-Carlo International Fireworks Festival in 1979. The Monte-Carlo competition was started by Princess Grace in 1966 and is the “Olympics” of the fireworks industry. Five companies, from five different countries, are invited to Monte-Carlo each year. The Grucci family was the first competitor from the United States to ever win. Upon returning to the US, the Grucci’s were invited to create a fireworks display for the presidential inauguration of Ronald Reagan. “We have since done seven consecutive presidential inaugurations,” says Butler. “We are the only company to have done so many consecutive presidential

A Grucci Guide to Fireworks How Fireworks Shells Are Made Paper forms the case for most shells and the visual effect desired determines its shape: cylindrical or spherical. All are fired from guns using quick match fuse to light the time delay fuse and the black powder lift charge. Size of shells range from 3â&#x20AC;? to 12â&#x20AC;? in diameter. Some Favorite Shells To Look For:

Split Comet Sparkling, the comets split to creat a golden Milky Way effect.

Willow Like a Weeping Willow Tree, long trails of color fall slowly earthward.

Salute Flash of bright light and a loud BOOM.

Chrysanthemum Perfect, symetrically round breaks forming the shape of a flower.

Palm Tree The shell leaves a trail as it goes up, forming the tree trunk. Reaching its apex, the shell bursts open, revealing the leaves of the palm.

inaugurations. We also did the first fireworks show ever for the Olympics. Now fireworks are a standard part of opening ceremonies.” As to why the Grucci’s attained so much consistent success Butler states simply, “Grucci Fireworks has always been in the right place at the right time after winning the Monte-Carlo competition.” Italians are noted for their fireworks displays in connection with celebration. The Chinese are credited with discovering black powder, also known as gunpowder, and using it to scare away evil spirits. “Italians are the ones who have been credited with bringing fireworks to the fore to celebrate; the Italians invented the use of chlorate colors. Potassium is the white and gold coloring. Chlorate is blue, green and red. Those are your basic colors in the fireworks rainbow. The rest of the colors are a blend of the five basic colors,” says Butler. Fireworks are called “shells” in the business. According to Butler the difference between an Italian shell and a Chinese shell is “Italians manufacture the cylinder shaped shell, much like a coffee can. These ‘coffee can’ shells are then stacked one on top of another to form one single long shell. The Chinese shells are round and cannot be stacked; the Italian shells are much more powerful because you can combine more explosive material into a shell. Because they are so much more powerful shell for shell, we limit our use of them. More power means more risk. We hold a Grucci College every year. There’s always a certain amount of attrition so you have to train the

technicians so they are current.” The Grucci family has continued the tradition of Italian innovation in fireworks, and is known for their signature “Waterfall” display. This was first unveiled during the Centennial celebration of the Brooklyn Bridge in 1983. This was a major event for the Grucci family, and helped “Grucci Fireworks” become a known name to fireworks fans from all over the world. “When the best want the best,” says Butler, “they call Grucci. We’ve been very fortunate that so many people call us.” When asked if any new fireworks are in the works Butler explained, “you don’t get the major work,” he responds, “unless you’re an innovator. I’ve been doing fireworks for 30 years and I’m really not able to coherently tell you that we are going to do something different. It sounds neurotic! As an artist, I don’t like to exaggerate. I like our fireworks to impress people, not my words. You do what you can as far as fine tuning the fireworks or the program you just displayed, and as far as changing it, you just don’t unless you have something that is brand new and can make a difference. If someone has never seen the Grucci Gold Comet, it’s new to the person who’s never seen it before. But it’s part of our standard signature show!” What accounts for the universal appeal of fireworks? Mr. Butler has had many years working with fireworks to think about why. “We take fire and put it in the sky for everyone to see. People are mesmerized by fireworks because of that primal interest, that primal attraction to fire.”

Artwork elf M.P.C.

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Words Jesse Nicely Photos Zuek M.O.D. Frank151: What do you write? Zuek: I write “Zuek”, lately I execute “MOD’S” pieces, that’s my crew composed of various personalities scattered from the North of Italy, seven friends. Often I make a tag or a piece or put up a poster to be able to realize a good photographic image. Photography is very important for a writer but that’s a longer conversation! F151: How long have you been writing?

Z: The first piece I did was in the summer of 1994. That’s the period that leads back to my first serious approach to writing. F151: What writers influenced you to start writing? Z: For sure the local scene of my small city that was under the strong influence of writers from the city of Vicenza (such as Skah, Lave, and Fakso) that had strong ties with the early Milan scene. It was this atmosphere that pushed me to get closer to writing. Later on pieces

of Rome’s trains/metro (a writer called Stand) that I saw going through some Xeroxed magazines, and for sure a girl called Daphne from Genoa, the only girl in Italy that has an unmistakable style and one detached attitude when it came to bombing and trains. My geometric style, the flat background paintings, the thick and precise outlines are clearly inspired by Daphne’s work. F151: Who are the writers that you like today? Z: Espo and his impactful style, Twist with his handwriting and installations, Os Gemeos for their native illustrations, Foe for his extremely graphic and brilliant style that recalls advertising

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logos, Honet... in Italy now I like Blue’s works, very current, and Cento’s who in my opinion is one of the most complete writers now painting in the Italian peninsula. F151: What do you think of Italian graffiti today? Z: The Italian scene tied to graffiti has experienced in these last ten years the maximum expressive peak. There was a time when trains without graffiti on the flanks were an exception, today this issue has drastically been reduced thanks to the introduction, by the Italian railroads, of a special film applied to the trains that facilitates the removal of paint. For a rather extended

period of time, after the introduction of this technology, we detached the film before painting in order for the graffiti to last longer, tens and tens of meters of adhesive film ripped from the flanks of the trains. It became a habit that gradually disappeared, to dedicate all the time at our disposal to paint. For quite a long period of time Romeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s metro was an Italian NY, both for its style (that very much reminds of the first NY experiences) and for its massive presence on all train lines. F151: What do you see as the future of Italian graffiti? Z: Parallel with the graffiti, in Italy we are seeing the development of what I consider to be a rib of this movement, meaning all those expressions that manifest at an urban level and that happen within a more or less latent illegality (posters, stickers, etc.). Stickers are an example of using the same principle of massive strafing/bombing, which is proper of tags but is perhaps more attractive and less watertight if compared to signatures on walls. Common people feel more attracted to a comprehensible logo, because they are educated with this type of language, the same one used by the publicity generated by the small and large industrial groups that communicate to the masses. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s for this reason that companies are more and more interested in this type of communication also here in Italy. Ads, graphic studios, apparel companies and even the national automotive group seem to have closer and closer ties with all that has been writing up to now. Writers have matured their language and they are taking advantage of alternative instruments.

F151: What are your goals as an artist? Z: The satisfactions that I had as a writer have been many. Anyone who paints trains knows the emotions of standing in front of a whole seven-car train completely painted from right to left and from top-to-bottom and what it can arise in whichever other writer. The goals from an artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s point of view are less radical and less genuine compared to those of a writer perhaps because they are met at a more mature age. I am enthusiastic when someone, in Italy or abroad, remembers my name, my pieces or recognizes my logo. I have a bag full of funny and interesting stories about my logo.

Words Arthur S. AKA Il Bergamasco The story of the ultras dates back to the 1960s. What started as a way for Italian students to band together as fans through their unfavorable seats at soccer stadiums has turned into a phenomenon with ultra chapters in cities worldwide. As years have passed ultras have become organized, with fan club names, logos, and chants, and some would say even more corporate, with merchandise to boot. The days of violent clashes between rowdy ultras and police are gone for the most part, but the punk attitude they embody persists. People have come to expect the fireworks, hash smoke, and general craziness that come from ultra sections. Newer generations are learning from their predecessors and ultra rivalries and camaraderieâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s are as fresh as they have ever been. The world of the ultra is no place for cheeseheads and tailgating. Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve collected some ultra paraphernalia for your viewing pleasure.

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Words Enrico Pirondi Photos Panoz The Paninari was one of the first prominent pop culture trends to emerge in early 1980s Italy, and lasted almost a decade. During the early-90s, their style fell out of favor and they became a joke. From their own style of dress, to their own slang, the Paninari originated in Milan from those who would hang out around the “Bar Panino”, a café found in the center of town. Arriving on the Italian cultural landscape at the same time as the first major chain of Italian fast food restaurants, Burghy, the Paninari (literally “the sandwicher”) hung out at this burger joint and embraced a number of brands to create their trademark look. The “Gallo” (“the cock”, the coolest Paninaro) could be seen wearing Timberland boots, argyle patterned Burlington socks, El Charro jeans and belt, a puffy Montclair jacket, Ray Ban sunglasses, and was accompanied by his “Sfittinzia” (a hot girl). Influenced by American pop culture and entertainment, they could often be heard exclaiming “Che cavolo stai dicendo Willis?” (translation: What you talking about Willis?), and making fun of the “truzzi” (nerds) who couldn’t keep up with the Paninari style. Today, like Disco to American’s, Italian’s look back at the Paninari trend with both disdain and humor, but those who embraced the look of the Paninari know they can never hide from this unique era of Italy’s cultural heritage. Frank151 salutes the Paninari!

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Hair Joseph Bartucci for Cutler / Redken Make-up Anna Bernabe for M.A.C. Photos Craig Wetherby The bouffant was â&#x20AC;&#x153;The Hairstyleâ&#x20AC;? for women during the 1960s. From Rome and Florence all the way to Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, this massive upsweep of hair could be seen on any Italian woman who knew what fashion and sophistication was. Now, Frank151 reveals the secret to creating this classic hairstyle with our very own step-by-step guide.

Fase Uno: Shampoo hair. Add setting lotion (e.g. mousse) to damp hair. Blow-dry lotion into hair using rounded brushes. Blow-dry bangs forward using rounded brushes.

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Fase Due: Get a roller set. Hairspray sections of hair and begin to roll each section back. Leave rollers in hair for 30-60 minutes.

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Fase Tre: Remove rollers and brush out sections of hair.

Fase Quattro: Create volume by teasing the sections of hair at the root.

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Fase Cinque: Once all sections are teased, start at the front and begin to smooth hair into the bouffant shape. After shaping the bouffant, pin the sections of hair in the back. Set with hairspray.

Clothes Bra top- Binetti: courtesty of Sorelle Firenze, Inc., Sweater- Meltinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Pot, Sunglasses- H&M

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Big O

Words Bonz Malone

Sal Morale

Bonz Malone

Street guys, tough guys, wise guys, rich guys and even bitch guys wear’em. But only a handful of smart guys know what they really mean. A pinky ring doesn’t mean you’re a gangster (Prince Charles wears his on the left). It doesn’t mean you’re not one either (Joey I. wears his on the right). What it does mean, however, is that you’re at least connected: economically, socially or politically. Any one of these is good. Two is better. But few have all three, especially in the streets. Those who do are called, “Ringleaders”, but not by their friends, by the D.A. who has successfully gotten indictments on all counts. In the early days when capitalism was a little kid, pinky rings or “Love Rings” as some cops call’em were noticed on “Mustache Pete”. A family man

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Jest

Hoshina

Nigo

Carlucci

who had come from Sicily to the land of blood and money for a piece of the affirmative action. As he started to make moves and plant his flag, two things were identifiable: first, he was always an elder, a chieftain, the head and sole provider of his brood; second, a band of gold, tiny yet distinctive, worn with a reverence that can only be earned, not taken. The negative connotation “Ringleader” was given to dishonor the “men of honor” along with the outward symbols they pledged to a society. This criminal stigma remains upon the barer to this day and is a focal point of the mystique within organized crime. Officially, “the ring” is to be worn on the left hand, if you are Sicilian. Up north in Naples, you’ll see members wear them on the right. If you’ve ever asked

Wiggs

Kevin Saer

Eiji

Pacco

yourself, “What’s the difference?” The difference is political affiliation. If you are a leftist then, nahmean? Or if you’re of the right wing, dig it? Now if you’re neither from “the boot” or a politico, but your family got juice or you’re into the arts or just want to rock an “intellectual jewel,” you’d also wear it on the left. The chosen few who became more than associates almost always wore a ring on the same hand as their mentor. As they became bosses, the tradition continued and in certain circles still does. The only time a wise guy switches hands is when he enters another time honored institution, marriage. In which case, the ringleader who wears it correctly, would switch to the right hand; so as to avoid looking like a pimp. Although they come in thousands of styles and sizes, no two are the same (like

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Nemo

Kaves

Digo Evoke

Jules

the men who wear them) nor does size connote the power it represents. Today, the romanticized images of the Mafia, as seen in The Godfather, are gone. It’s Goodfellas time. No more mano y mano, no women, no kids, no code of silence, just alotta snitches with rings. Bitches and bling! These days’ thugs use rings to gain the spotlight. They wear the most expensive ring they can find, but aren’t truly respected. A thug is a gangster’s flunky! Plain and simple. He’s not a “made” guy. Most aren’t. If he was, he wouldn’t call himself a thug. It’s the mailroom job of the mob. Remember, a reputation is something you earn, not steal. The ringleader is more concerned with how you wear your ring, than he is with what hand you wear it on. That’s the secret of its history. How you wear it, not just why, is as defining as a paisan is to The Don.

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Words & Art Dumbo It’s never been very easy for me to explain myself, but it’s always been impossible for me not to talk about myself. That’s how I started and that’s how I first wrote on a wall - pure and simple instinct. I was at that age where I was just getting into a new world, the adult world. It was the first time I had ever thought about what it really meant to talk about responsibility, respect, awareness, suffering, happiness, loneliness, the future, love - and that’s probably what I was trying to avoid by writing on walls and trains and even thinking I was breaking the law. A little immature, right? But how can you be mature at 13? It’s been 16 years now, and what’s really changed? Definitely my way of expressing myself - I see with different eyes now, bigger, deeper, more attuned. But what’s stayed the same? Attitude, criticism, the strength, and passion that I live every second of my life. These are the things that mean art to me; a simple and complex mix of communication, exactly like graffiti was. So it makes me think that some questions I’ve answered for myself. I’m growing up, finally.

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Photos Chris Pieretti

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Lombardiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, Little Italy, NYC.

Totonnoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, Brooklyn, N.Y.

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Deninoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Pizzeria & Tavern, Staten Island, N.Y.

L&B Spumoni Gardens, Brooklyn, N.Y.

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Grimaldiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, Brooklyn, NY.

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Words Lauren DeCarlo Any Italian New Yorker you speak to will tell you where to find the best pizza, but chances are they will all cite a different place. When I had to consider why Italian New Yorkers are so passionate about where to get the best pie, I realized I could only speak about where I was from, Staten Island. In the case of Italian Staten Islanders we are in a unique position. We don’t really have anything extraordinary to call our own. And when you spend your entire life defending an island known for its putrid heap of garbage, you take pride in knowing that somewhere somebody’s making a damn good pizza. Ask Italians from the North to the South Shores where they get pizza for Friday night dinners and you’ll hear answers like Denino’s, Angelo’s, Nunzio’s, Lee’s, Capone’s, Gennaro’s and Pal Joey’s. These are the pizzerias where Staten Islanders eat and defend with a passion. You can argue all night about what defines your favorite pizza as the best. Some people believe it’s the sauce. Some like it sugary sweet, while others like bits of red and black pepper exploding on their tongue. Other’s say it’s all about the crust; however, whether it’s paper thin like cardboard or pillowy soft is another topic of debate that can be argued endlessly. The truth is, none of that matters. Italians on Staten Island are reared on this shit and they know what they like and they’ll do any-

thing to convince you the same. Ask us what the best pizza on the island is and we’ll tell you that it’s the place we order from every Friday night (without meatballs or sausage on Fridays during Lent, of course). It’s where our friends worked and hooked us up with free slices after school. The phone number of the best pizzeria was the only one taped over the kitchen phone, and it’s magnets on our your fridge showed a chubby chef holding a smoking pie with the phone number sewn into his apron. Italian Staten Islanders are in a class of their own, and I think we don’t realize just how Italian or Staten Island we are until we find ourselves off the island. Here’s where the inexplicable Staten Island pride comes in. As an Italian, I’ve been unceremoniously dubbed an expert on all things “Italian,” which is fine. In fact, I feel it’s a duty to my ancestors to educate friends from Chicago on why Pizzeria Uno is not the godsend they believe it to be. But a funny thing happens when you’re called out as an expert on things of the Italian persuasion. You sort of become one or, at least, believe that you are one. Then that intense passion and pride rears its head—not to mention a thick Staten Island accent that you thought was gone for good— and suddenly you’re in a heated debate about the pizzeria you used to walk to on half-days in your Catholic school uniform. Why? Because it’s the best.

Photos Supernova

Mangialandia, Milano, Italy

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Officina 12, Milano, Italy

Pizza Milu, Milano, Italy

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Premiata Pizzeria, Milano, Italy

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The Artwork of Frankie

Frankie Floodâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work investigates one-ofa-kind objects and their role in a world based on mechanical reproduction using industrial processes of machining, anodizing, and powder coating. His interest in machines and tools is derived from his working-class upbringing and from building tools with his father as a boy. His pizza cutters,

Flood

inspired by chopper motorcycles, attempt to reclaim the mythology and economic usefulness of the American worker as patriarch; translating machine or functional object into flesh and blood.

Phatboy

PFL

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Easy Rider

PFL Mantis

Italian-Americans are notorious for altering words and phrases in their own language. Memorize this list and you’ll be sounding Brooklynese in no time.

Agida /ah-gi-duh/ - From the Italian “agitare” (to agitate).

(n.) Agitation.

“I just ate some bad lasagna and it give me Agida” also;

“Woman, you give me agida!”

Bafongul /bah-fon-gool/ - From the Italian “vaffanculo” (vulgar— contraction

of the expression “va’ a fare in culo” up your ass).

(v.) In the second person direct address – Fuck [you].

“Bafongul! You are so fucking annoying!”

Bracciole /brah-gi-ole/ - Literally thin sliced meat or pork, used to wrap cheese, parsely,

and other spices for use in Sunday pasta sauce.

(n.) Slang word for penis.

“I had this beautiful broad wanting the ol’ bracciole all night.”

Capisce /ka-peesh/ - From the Italian “capire” (to understand).

(n.) A question in the second person direct address

– [Do you] understand?

“Pay me or I break your legs. Capisce?” Corliones /cor-li-oones/ - From the Italian “coglioni” (testicles).

(n.) The equivalent of the English slang for testicles “balls” or “nuts.”

“Joey, would you stop bustin’ my corliones already?!”

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Fugazi - /foo-gay-zee/ - Origin unknown.

(n.) 1. Acronym for “Fucked Up, Got Ambushed, Zipped In”

when referring to a tight situation, especially when things got

for real in the Vietnam War.

2. A Fake, a phony: Popularized by the 1997 gangster flick D onnie Brasco.

“If it can’t cut glass, the friggin’ thing is a fugazi.”

Gabagool /goba-gule/ - From the Italian “capicola” (a popular cold cut).

(n.) Literally a spiced ham cold cut—just pronounced

completely and utterly wrong.

“I just went to Trunzo Bros. and got a half pound of the greatest

gabagool in the world!”

Goomah /coo-mahd/ or /goo-mahd/ - From the Italian “comare” (godmother).

(n.) A mistress

“I gotta go see my goomah, she’s cooking scungili tonight.”

Goomba /goom-bah/ - From the Italian “cumpa” (literally means godfather,

but has evolved to also mean one’s best man at the wedding).

(n.) A term used by Italian-Americans meaning a close friend.

“Paulie is my goomba, a real good guy.”

Madon /mahd-own/ - From the Italian “Madonna” (the mother of Christ).

(n.) [acts as a verb] At one time it was blasphemous, but nowadays everyone

uses it to express surprise or bewilderment. Almost the same as “holy shit!”

“Madon! Did you see the diamond on Tony’s pinkie ring?”

Mamaluke /ma-ma-luuk/ - From the Italian slang “mamaluco” (a big, lazy mush).

NOTE: Also a Brazilian derogatory term for a mulatto.

(n.) A lazy sack of shit. Mama’s boy.

“Tony that mamlaluke—he won’t even get off the couch!”

Ming /mee-ng/ - From the Italian “minchia” (the penis).

(n. acting as verb.) Expression used to relay feelings of anger, dissent or

even happiness.

“Fuckin’ ming! That guy owes me four large.” or “Four large?

Ming, that’s a lot of cash.”

Mutz /mutz/ - From the Italian “mozzarella” (if you don’t know what mozzarella

means, we’re not telling you).

(n.) Literally mozzarella.

“Vito makes some damn good mutz, not that string cheese bullshit either.”

Potzo /paht-zo/ - From the Italian “pazzo” (crazy).

(adj.) Literally crazy, just pronounced wrong.

“Nicky ‘Nut Grabs’, now that guy’s potzo!”

‘Stugatz / ‘Stunad /stew-gahtz/ or /stew-nod/ - From the Italian “questo cazzo”

(literally, “this prick”).

(adj.) Description of a total idiot; complete fool.

(v.) Verbal expression meaning “It’s nothing.”

“Marcello that fuckin’ ‘stunad, can’t even walk a straight line!”

“You got beef with Marcello? Ah, ‘stugatz.”

Venne ca /ven-nay cah/ - From the Italian “viene qua” (come here).

(v.) In the second person direct address command – Get over here.

“Mikey venne ca, help me with the numbers.”

Zips /zïpz/ - Origin unknown.

(n.) American Mafiosi’s derogatory term for the Sicilian Mafiosi.

“The Zips back home got it all backwards, things are changing.”

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Assembled by Brian Trunzo

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Words & Photo Debi Mazar I’ve always had a travel bug, and I have fallen in love with many countries I’ve visited. But Italy has been, I gotta say, one of my favorites. I went there to work when I was 18. When I came back home to NYC I took Italian lessons for six months. I soon gave up the lessons, but this started a pattern for me that would last (so far for more than 20 years). I’d go to Italy, come back, and try cooking what I learned, study the language again, and then go back to my American life after a while. Somewhere in between, I also gained a passion for Salsa music, so being a New Yorker, I would always pop over to Puerto Rico, and eventually I hit Cuba, Spain, and Brazil. Along the way I amassed a huge Latin/Jazz music library. Still, I always would return back to Italy. On a particular trip to Italy I fell in love, and I am now married (by fate I guess) to an Italian man from Florence. My husband, Gabriele, who happened to also love Latin music, is a conga

player by profession (and also a cook, writer, and producer). Together we have a daughter, Evelina, who is now almost three. Our family divides time between Los Angeles, New York, and Florence where we are fixing up our 14th century home. We will live there full time one day soon I hope. My daughter is fluent in Italian; I’m so proud of her. I am of Latvian descent (Riga, on the Baltic Sea), and a first generation American. People always think I’m Italian and Jewish, because I play a lot of these characters in films and TV. Goodfellas was the beginning of this. At one time I tried to get dual citizenship to Latvia, but I would have had to give up my American passport. But now, I’ve finally adopted the country that I’ve always loved as my second home, and will become an Italian citizen very shortly. It has been a long process, but worth the wait. Life there is magical and new for me. It’s nice to have a dream come true.

weactivist Ali Boulala and his crayfish necklace at the crayfish party, La Saone, Lyon check out the rest of the crayfish parties at www.thecrayfishparty.com www.weclothing.com we are the superlative conspiracy we, the icon, superlative conspiracy, wesc and www.weclothing.com are registrated trademarks of we international ab ©2005 by we international ab. photo: Jens Andersson ©2005

The crayfish party is a ritual held every August, meant to compensate the Swedish people for once again being abandoned by summer. In the name of a backward walking creature, exquisitely tasting of salt, the Swedes let each other behave in ways not accepted otherwise. Dressing silly, singing out loud and making out with inappropriate persons is all very well this night. The natives thirst for summer sun is successfully quenched with schnapps, and while saluting the next drink with a ridiculous song, the Swedes shine a greasy smile, looking forward to six months or more of liquid light-therapy.

SKÅL!