The train from Palermo to Castellammare del Golfo took about an hour. We watched the scenery quickly pass by us; mountains, green foliage, orange and lemon trees, grape vineyards, cactus, and the sea. But mostly we saw walls. The train tracks were often hidden and the scenery was too. Castellammare is now mainly a fishing port, but it, and Sicily, have been through much over time. Its beaches welcome tourists in the warmer weather. This was January, so we didn't expect to see much action on the beaches. We knew we were heading to a place that was as important to America as it was to Italy. And not necessarily in a good way. It was the home of many American mafia bosses, including Joe Bonanno, Salvatore Maranzano, and Niagara Falls' Stefano Magaddino. Magaddino was the real reason we were heading there, although we didn't know what to expect. We had been in Italy for five days, and already spent a day in Palermo, and never uttered the word “mafia” once. We also knew that English speaking people were at a premium and did not expect to find any in this little town. When we arrived in Castellammare and deboarded the train, we stood in front of a small train station located several miles outside of town. Gazing down the tracks we could see a beautiful mountain range. We looked around to try and find our way to the street, and as we rounded the corner of the station I saw a small bus waiting, and from our travel guidebook figured it must be the one that took us to the city center. I grabbed my wife and headed for the bus, not stopping to look around much longer. We boarded the bus and as we attempted to find out the cost of the trip, the driver realized we spoke English, and told us in English. We paid and sat down. A few minutes into the trip he asked us how long we would be staying and I told him a few hours. He was friendly and when we reached the bus stop in the city, he told us we had arrived. He then explained when the next trains arrived and that his company offered a bus option back to Palermo and told us when to be back at the bus stop. We thanked him and left the bus. Here we were standing on the sidewalk in Castellammare del Golfo. The bus stop was just a few lines painted on the street and a bus shelter, but it worked. We looked around, and took a picture of the first street sign we saw, in case we got lost. We had until two o'clock to explore the town, about three hours. The first thing we saw was a man selling vegetables from his three-wheeledpickup truck parked at a corner. I don't know if he actually sold any, but the whole time we saw him he was chatting with another man, and no customers ever visited him. We began walking around this ancient city, trying to stay on a pattern we would remember. It was eerily quiet. There was little traffic, and even fewer people. The temperature was probably low 50's, so that wasn't an issue. I kept looking for signs with the Castellammare name to photograph, to prove we were really there. Every single time I did, a person suddenly appeared, almost as if they were watching and did not want pictures taken. At one point we walked between a couple buildings and I saw a sign I was going to snap a picture of. Suddenly, from the second floor a woman opened her shutters and stared, or maybe glared, at us. My wife smiled, and we walked away. The woman watched us until we were out of site, and then closed the shutters. A few minutes later I found another sign and pulled the camera out again, and this time a woman came out of the building and watched us. She was on her way out, but kept an eye on us until we were around the corner. It was truly peculiar. We eventually found some signs to accomplish that task. For lunch we found a small delicatessen/wine bar/coffee house. They had the same type of delicious pre-made sandwiches we found in Palermo and Rome. We ordered a couple, and looked at the cooler of beer. Suddenly the owner said “Coca-Cola?” in broken English, and I turned, “Si!” The sodas were behind the counter, the beer was in a cooler in front. We sat down and enjoyed our sandwiches, on fresh panini bread, with prosciutto and cheese, warmed by the owner on his grill. We walked around the city for a few hours and saw nothing that would lead you to believe that some of the most dangerous mafioso in American history had left this city almost 100 years earlier to start fresh in America. We were able to find a Magaddino construction firm, which must be related in some way. We didn't see anything else that looked like it was mafia. It looked like a resort town in the middle of winter; quiet, peaceful, and intriguing. We eventually made our way back to the bus stop. Sitting under the shelter we watched as the school across the street let out and as high school children began walking the area. Some waited for buses. Others entered cars driven by their boyfriends. Some rode scooters. And yet others waited for the small yellow school bus, so familiar to us, yet so strangely different here. Our coach arrived late and we wondered whether we had missed it, but it eventually showed up and we boarded for our trip back to Palermo and the last night of our honeymoon in Italy. The bus was filled with adults and students. It operated somewhat like a local transit bus, dropping students at their far-flung homes along the route. We could hear several students practicing their English. “Will you speak English with me now” “Yes.” “What is your name?” and so on. It was cute, and telling. In America we assume everyone will speak English, and we make little effort to help anyone who doesn't. In other countries they learn English so they can communicate with the rest of the world. We watched the scenery again, this time it was much better. The bus followed along the Gulf of Castellammare. We could see many gated homes along the road. We imagined that some might be owned by mafioso. Did they shake that poor delicatessen owner down? Or maybe he was one of them. We'll probably never know. One thing we do know, Castellammare del Golfo is a beautiful place and we'd like to visit again someday, maybe in the summer, when wehave more time to fully explore the city, and maybe look for Joe Bonanno's or Stefano Magaddino's old homesteads. February 16, 2009Mike Rizzo, founderThe Mob Tourswww.themobtours.com
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