In my family, we have too many Larrys.
There’s Big Larry, my brother, and Little Larry, his son. Never mind that Little Larry has grown up and now towers over Big Larry. Families ignore little things like facts.
I suppose we could come up with new nicknames, but that seems like a lot of bother to me. I know whom I’m looking for when I call their home in Pittsburgh, and if there is any confusion, it takes a only a second to get Right Larry on the phone.
This nickname business came to mind this week when a reader wrote to complain about The Inquirer printing mobsters’ nicknames.
He was referring to recent stories on the shooting of Raymond “Long John” Martorano, a longtime wiseguy. Martorano was critically wounded Jan. 17 in an ambush as he drove to a doctor’s appointment at Pennsylvania Hospital.
The reader said he thought using such nicknames was disrespectful, a slur on Italian Americans. He also questioned whether the paper would run nicknames of people from other ethnic backgrounds.
So I asked the paper’s mob reporter, George Anastasia, whether wiseguys really use these nicknames. That seemed to me to be the point on which the question turned. And because my curiosity was piqued, I asked how “Long John” got his nickname.
Anastasia, who has been covering the Philadelphia mob for 20 years, had a ready reply.
“Nicknames are common in the underworld,” he said, and yes, mobsters actually use them to refer to each other. Philly mob boss Nicky Scarfo, now serving two prison sentences totaling 69 years, was known as “Little Nicky.” Among mobsters, he was often referred to as “the little guy,” he said.
The same was true of New York mob boss Vincent “The Chin” Gigante. “Mobsters would rub their chins when they were referring to him,” he said.
Perhaps the most telling information about nicknames came from an FBI report. Various New York mob families were reviewing a list of potential members. Each family is notified when someone is proposed for membership in another family. The list that was being sent around for review was returned to the family of origin with the complaint: “List the nicknames. We don’t know who these guys are,” Anastasia recalled.
I checked our archives and found the paper has printed nicknames of crime figures who are not Italian Americans. These include Robert “Cush” Smith, a notorious Jamaican cocaine dealer, and Irish bookmaker John “Slim” Creagh.
Anastasia said nicknames are part of the fabric of ethnic, urban neighborhoods, and not restricted to wiseguys. In his own family, he had an uncle who was a short-order cook at a restaurant called Tartacks in South Philadelphia. “He was known as Tony Tartack,” Anastasia said.
“Growing up, I had two friends named Anthony from South Philadelphia. One was a big fan of Chicago Cubs shortstop Ernie Banks,” he said. “The other loved Boston Red Sox third baseman Frank Malzone. One was called ‘Tony Banks’ and the other ‘Tony Malz.’ Neither was a gangster.”
Raymond “Long John” Martorano, 74, has been a gangster on the Philadelphia scene for decades. He and his brother, John, ran John’s Vending Co. Martorano was called “Long John” because he was taller and thinner than his brother, Anastasia said.
Onetime Philly mob boss, “Skinny” Joey Merlino has a cousin, “Fat” Joey Merlino. When they were little, that’s how their family told them apart.
In my family, there are no mobsters, but there has been a son named Lawrence – really Lorenzo – as far back as 1748. With the help of a friend, I’ve traced my mother’s family, the Vaglicas, to a village in western Sicily.
After talking with Anastasia and savoring the burst of color that comes with nicknames, I decided I didn’t want to leave them only to the guys. The next time I call my brother in Pittsburgh, I’m going to tell him Philly Lily’s on the line.
