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Let us now speak of virtuous men, or at least of men who try to be virtuous. Different cultures produce different models of the virtuous man. My culture reveres a model of excellence: the prince. This word had many meanings, not just the obvious ones of son of a king, or nobleman or person of high rank. “Prince” comes from a Latin root word which means “one who takes the first part.” In this sense, therefore, a prince is he who sets the example because he’s the first one to show himself, the first one to take part, the first one to declare his principles.

When I was very young, watching the puppet theater in Sicily, my dream was to become a knight. Later, as a student, my ideal was to become a sea captain. When I became a man, I lost many of my romantic illusions, but I didn’t lose all my ideals. As a mature man I have aspired to be a prince—a man who lives and dies by his principles.

How close have I come to my ideal?

That’s not for me to say. It’s not for you to say either. It’s up to God.

This I know:

I have tried to be a good Father. I have helped many people. No man can say I cheated him or took away what was rightly his. I’ve led a productive life, not a parasitic one. I’ve had to protect myself and my people, but I’ve never been bloodthirsty. I’ve made mistakes, I’m not perfect, but throughout it all I’ve remained true to my name and scrupulous to my principles.

*   *   *

This book is my declaration that my Tradition has died in America. The way of life that I and my Sicilian ancestors pursued is dead. What Americans refer to as “the Mafia” is a degenerate outgrowth of that life-style. Sicilian immigrants who came to America tried to conduct their affairs as they had in Sicily, but we eventually discovered this was impossible.

American culture, with its marketplace values, made us rich for the most part, but at the same time it eroded our relationships, which had always been kinship-based.

Mafia is a process, not a thing. Mafia is a form of clan cooperation to which its individual members pledge lifelong loyalty. In other words, as corny or simple as it may sound, what makes this process work is the belief in friendship.

Friendships, connections, family ties, trust, loyalty, obedience—this was the “glue” that held us together. In America, however, and increasingly throughout the industrialized world, the glue that holds people together is their economic relationship. Trade and work are the basis of the new culture.

The sons and grandsons of the Sicilian immigrants absorbed the new values. Those who chose to pursue the “mafioso” way of life professed to be following the old Tradition, and yet something had changed which even they were not always aware of.

The “Mafia” phenomenon in America today shouldn’t even be referred to by that name. I’ve turned my back on what I consider a debased form of my traditional life-style. Most of the names I read in the newspapers are new to me, and their activities, such as narcotics trafficking, are entirely repugnant.

What can I say about these people? They are strangers. If they engage in illicit activities, what concern is that of mine? If some of them have Italian surnames, they could just as easily have Jewish, Irish, or Puerto Rican surnames. It wouldn’t make any difference. They’re all trying to make money. That’s all I see.

The ideals embodied in my Tradition will endure only in the hearts of men. Even in Sicily, the old Tradition is declining under the influence of the Americanization of Europe. That’s the situation today, both in the New World and in the Old World. If society breaks down in the future, however, who knows if the pure mafioso spirit will blaze again?

In any case, what Americans call “Mafia” never was an institution, an organization, a corporate body. As best as I can figure out, this fallacy continues to receive its strongest acceptance not in the minds of ordinary people but in the minds of law-enforcement agents.

Law enforcement is an endless, tedious business. There has always been and there will always be crime, either by individuals acting alone or by individuals acting in concert. Law enforcement is such discouraging work because no sooner does a policeman arrest a criminal than another criminal takes his place.

Given this monotonous and enervating flow of crime, it pleases policemen to think of some outlaws as belonging to one monolithic group, a secret society perhaps, which can be attacked and defeated, once and for all, just as one’s enemy can in conventional war.

Since a policeman is a creature of a tight organization, the police bureaucracy, he tends to think, or would like to think, that his enemy also is a member of an organization. This is a psychologically pleasing projection; it gives the policeman hope he can win the war against crime if only he can destroy the “monolithic” group which he imagines controls “organized crime.”

The American public is fascinated with “Mafia” for different reasons, I believe. Why did so many people flock to read The Godfather and to watch the movie? This work of fiction is not really about organized crime or about gangsterism. The true theme has to do with family pride and personal honor. That’s what made The Godfather so popular. It portrayed people with a strong sense of kinship trying to survive in a cruel world.

I believe Americans are strongly attracted to such themes because they are witnessing the erosion of kinship and of personal honor in their culture. They therefore look at representations of these fading values, whether in movies, books or television soap operas, with nostalgia. I believe Americans miss the old frontier days of personal confrontation. I think Americans also miss the extended family and are having a difficult time trying to find a substitute. Americans yearn for closeness. Most of all, and I say this in a figurative sense, Americans yearn for a “father.”

*   *   *

Count Camillo Benso di Cavour was asked,

—Che cosa è la vita?

What is life?

And the Italian statesman answered,

—È l’ombra d’un sogno fuggente; la favola breve è finita; il solo immortale è l’amore.

Life is the shadow of a passing dream; the story is short and finite; the only immortal truth is love.

When someone writes his memoirs and is serious about the undertaking, he cannot help realizing that aside from his other intentions, he has embarked on an odyssey to enlighten himself and his readers as to that age-old question: What is life?

The writing of these memoirs has forced me to think about what I have learned about life.

I too have something to pass on to the next generation. I consider myself luckier than the generation of today in America. I was born into a Tradition. I was born among a people whom experience had taught to cherish certain fixed values. This Tradition was the flower of our culture. It taught us right and wrong. It guided youngsters as they strove toward manhood. It guided mature men, and punished them if they deserved it. Our Tradition gave us our way of life.

That my Tradition represents a bygone era does not fill me with regret or bitterness. I’m too old for the modern world anyway. It’s too late for me to change. At my age it’s a blessing just to be alive. I still have my gripes, of course, but during my contemplative moments my overall mood is one of thanksgiving.

I have learned that true power comes from self-control.

I have learned that true strength comes from a clear conscience.

I have learned that true wealth comes from a good family and good friends.