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I went to the Orient because of Eddie Gardenia. Being
fourteen in 1937 was no easy deal even if we were the
two gutsiest kids ever tO hit Long Island City. Most
times， we just roamed the streets between Steinway
and the bridge， but sometimes we d venture out along
Astoria or Vernon Boulevard to rumble with a rival
gang or to grab our share of what New York City had
to offer. In those days， half the ~country was out of
work and the other half was waiting to be fired. Our
neighborhood was typical of othei~ in the five bor-
oughs， a place where only the local whore and num-
bers runner made any money worth talking about.
Naturally， everybody else was looking out for a few
extra bucks. If you could survive here， you could
make it anywhere.
Eddie was hardly a tough guy， even though he d go
along with the game. I knew my cousin better than
anybody， and every time we were on the prowl， I
could hear his insides shaking. He had guts， sure， but
tough? Well， that just wasn t Eddie. Don t get me
wrong. He was no coward. He was just an overly
cautious guy who took more than his share of beat-
ings. I d always made it my business to be there when
he needed me because Eddie was the only person I
could trust， the only person I dared have any faith in.
With no questions. It was that way ever since I can
remember. Eddie， an orphan at the age of two， came
to live with us. My mother and father treated him as if
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