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Monthly Archives: December 2008


Salvatore “Dago Louie”  Piscopo  aka Luigi Merrili  was a made guy in the Jack Dragna  Crime Family. He got  his button/made the same time Jimmy “The Weasel” Fratianno got his.


   Dago Louie, nobody ever called him  that  to  his face, spoke fluent broken English. He was a  hothead. He clipped a couple of guys  back  in  the “Old Country” over a fucking nanny goat. He was old-school smart, drove a  brand new Caddy,  dressed sharp, and he always carried a gun and a bankroll big enough to choke a pig.

 He  oversaw the  LA  Mob’s  bookmaking  operation which extended from Beverly Hills to Watts.. He hated Watts.   To him, it was like leaving a Penthouse to go take a dump in a outhouse.  

        .    .              

Top Mafioso, Johnny Roselli carried almost as much  clout in the Dragna mob as General Jack Dragna. Johnny made Dago Louie  his  lieutenant, which elevated him to a  higher level  than that of an ordinary  soldier.   He also doled out special  duties to  Dago Louie  like  making  collections,  and  occasionally  delivering  cash on-the-down-low  to Johnny’s relatives in Boston.

Most nights you  could find Dago Louie sitting at the bar  in  the Villa Capri where my dad worked as a bartender, but on Sundays, come hell or high water,  he  would  show  up  at  my  house with his

 appetite and apron  to make the Sunday sauce  with my  Mother.   Others had told me he was  hardcore Mafia, but to me,  he was  just a funny talking  greasball. who massacred my  mothers  gravy.  I would  wise up one day…

  Me and my pals were  having trouble with this bully named  George.  He was  from Philly and he  was big;  like a fucking  building with feet.   He was a  thirty something ex-pug and  he was shaking everyone down on the  boulevard,  even  for chump change.

          I had managed  to stay under his radar until one day my luck  ran  out.  He  caught me  on Hollywood boulevard with my girlfriend, beat me up ,  took my  money and humiliated me.

   Bottom line, I couldn’t live with myself  unless I killed  this guy. To do it, I had to  dive in and  sink or swim. I made a meet  with George near the Hollywood High Malt Shop. I had told him  I would bring him one lump sum of cash so he would leave me alone.  He shows up to  get paid, but  he  got  paid back instead.


            I stabbed him with a hunting knife in the belly, so,  deep,  that when I pulled it out it had green slime on the blade.  He dropped  to  his knees and  screamed like a bitch: “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it!”,  I did.. ..

  I plunged the blade  into him wherever I could.  I saw a look of terror  on his  face, a look  I would come to see on many  faces in the years  to come.   I  kept stabbing him  until I heard a woman scream . And then , covered in  blood , I made my  getaway.

  Like an amateur,  I went home and hid the knife in my closet.   What the  fuck?  I was an eighteen  year old  kid doing  my  first piece of work.  My friend Jerry came by and I told him what I did.  He didn’t believe me  until  I showed  him the  bloody  knife.  A few  days later he  told his father who worked in  the Villa, and he  told both  my  father and Dagon Louie.

   I went   to  the Villa  to talk  to  my dad about it, and Dago Louie stopped  me in  the parking  lot  before I reached  the Villa’s front door.  He says something like: ” You good boy.  You  make  all   bastardo  respect-a-you.  You wanna  make-a- some-a- money, come-a-see-me.”

   Even  though I needed an  interpreter, I figured it had  to  be  a good  offer.   Through Dagon Louie,  the Mafia  courted me like a bride and groomed me to  become a “Slugger”.  I knew I could  kill, even  though this  fucking, ghoul, George, had survived..  He probably  got  the help of a witch or two to  do it. I mean, he ate the  blade  six  times.

 I went to work for Dago Louie and Johnny Roselli became  my  good  friend after I did  him a solid. Dean Martin  went to Johnny for a favor. His ex wife Betty, who was a lush,  was cheated out of her alimony money by two swindlers. One of them was a  hitman named Pat LaPrieda.  Johnny gave the order to Dago Louie who gave  the order  to  me. It’s  that easy. When you are in the Mafia  High Command,  you press a button, and   it  gets  done.  I  was  the doer and I got the cash  back. Dean  was  grateful to me and I had earned  Johnny’s affection and respect.

    Over the years,  I got a  button  and  bossed  a  crew in  the Los Angeles Crime Family.

             I even  took over as  the acting boss in Mobster, Mike Rizzitelo’s crew,  which  was a faction of  the Gambino Crime family operating in Los Angeles.  My nickname was Tony “The Animal”. At least  it sounded  better than Tony ” The Molester”….

         I lived the American Dream, Hollywood, Mafia style.   I owned a home  in Beverly Hills, drove a Porsche 928 and wore two thousand dollar Armani suits .  It beat being a fucking  loser walking around in a moth eaten  Members Only jacket like some Capos I  knew.

 Just like Johnny,  I  hobnobbed  with Hollywood  stars  but I  banged  bunnies at  the Playboy Mansion

and  he didn’t… 

           I got nailed  by  the  Feds and went to work  for Uncle Sam  wearing  a wire for a couple  of  years.  I worked my  way  out  of doing  300  more of  them  in  the slammer. 

          Dago  Louie carried  his  grudges, and probably  his  gun, to his grave. He died of  old age, and  Johnny,  well,  “Humpty Dumpty” had a better shot than Johnny at being put back together again. He was found chopped up in pieces in a bobbing fuel drum floating in Dumbflounding Bay, near Miami, Florida. .                 

   I am  doing better than some ratfellas.  I am working on a book and a tan while Stevie Flemmi  is working on  his prison pallor and Whitey,  well,   he is probably  hitting some young  kid  in the keaster in a  Frisco or Fire Island  bath house. All  things considered, everything  is  “Jake”, old-school cool.   

My next book is in  the works and it  covers my connections with  high caliber Mafia Mobsters   in  Boston,  New  York, and  Las Vegas.                                                  

Anthony  Fiato