Carlo Tresca

January 11, 1943

The mob and Mussolini

High-profile public and political figures—the Mafia tends to avoid killing these. Ever since the anti-Italian backlash that accompanied the death of Captain David Hennessy in 1890 (possibly a Mafia murder), La Cosa Nostra has steered clear of the politicos. The consequences are just too high.

There are a couple of notable exceptions to this rule, however, just like everything to do with the Mafia. One of these exceptions probably occurred in Dallas in 1963. Enough has been written on that assassination to fill a whole bookstore and there is compelling evidence to suggest Mafia involvement in the murder of JFK. Another death, one that took place in 1943, was undeniably a Mafia slaying—the murder of Carlo Tresca.

Tresca was an Italian-born anarchist, newspaper editor and activist. Born in Sulmona, Tresca had fled Italy in 1904 to avoid impending arrest, bringing his ideals and strength of purpose with him.

Tresca was a principled man, one who fought ceaselessly for his beliefs—empowerment of workers, justice for the downtrodden and, of course, the ideologies of anarchism. Tall and handsome, he was a riveting speaker, and a powerful voice against Fascism for Italian-Americans. This was particularly important throughout the 1930s and the opening years of the Second World War.

Tresca’s fiery oratories undoubtedly made certain factions uncomfortable, though, both in the United States and in Italy. Mussolini reportedly sent Fascist operatives to deal with Tresca in 1926, using bombs. They failed.

Journalists prepare to photograph the body of Carlo Tresca.

Making enemies

But Tresca had his fair share of enemies in the United States as well, among them Frank Garofalo, underboss of the Bonanno family. Tresca wrote fervently against the Mafia, and shortly before he died had penned a piece that brought Garofalo to task. Tresca knew he was at risk; he had lived with danger all his life. Ultimately, though, he could only be what he was—tireless and crusading.

Inevitably his outspokenness brought Tresca to his death. On January 11, 1943, he left his newspaper office at around 9:45 in the evening. Just as he crossed the road, a black car pulled up beside him and a man in a trenchcoat got out. Moments later, Carlo Tresca was lying dead in the street, a bullet in his head. And that was that.

For a long time the murder of Tresca was considered a mystery, with speculation veering between Fascist agents operating in America or Italian communists. But the assassination was very well orchestrated, smooth and clean. Historians now know that the murder of Carlo Tresca was a Mafia hit. In fact, the evidence is fairly clear as to who the man in the trenchcoat was that dark January evening—Carmine “Lilo” Galante, decades before his audacious takeover of the Bonanno family. In the death of Tresca, Galante would have been operating under orders from Frank Garofalo, and therefore Joseph Bonanno himself.

But Tresco’s achievements demand that he be remembered for far more than the way he died. He was a man of worth, one who stood his ground, and not just another notch on the gun of Carmine Galante.