The occupants of Hell's Kitchen lived in dirty tenements overrun by lice, rats, and roaches. There were no bathtubs, and the youths solved the shortage in their own way; they plunged naked into the water off the Hudson River docks, where the sewers from the Kitchen's streets emptied into the river. The docks stank of the stagnant mass of dead, swollen cats and dogs.
The street scene provided an endless variety of action. A fire engine answering an alarm...a gang fight on one of the tenement roofs...a wedding procession...a stickball game on the sidewalk...a chase after a runaway horse...a shooting. The only playgrounds the children had were the streets, the tenement roofs, the rubbish-strewn vacant lots, and - in the summertime - the noisome waters of the river. And over everything, the acrid smell of poverty. That was the atmosphere in which Tony Rizzoli had grown up.
Tony Rizzoli's earliest memory was of being knocked down and having his milk money stolen. He was seven years old. Older and bigger boys were a constant threat. The route to school was a no-man's land, and the school itself was a battleground. By the time Rizzoli was fifteen years old he had developed a strong body and considerable skill as a fighter. He enjoyed fighting, and because he was good at it, it gave him a feeling of superiority. He and his friends put on boxing matches at Stillman's Gym.
From time to time, some of the mobsters dropped in to keep an eye on the fighters they owned. Frank Costello appeared once or twice a month, along with Joe Adonis and Lucky Luciano. They were amused by the boxing matches that the youngsters put on, and as a form of diversion they began to bet on their fights. Tony Rizzoli was always the winner, and he quickly became a favorite of the mobsters.
One day while Rizzoli was changing in the locker room, the young boy overheard a conversation between Frank Costello and Lucky Luciano. "The kid's a gold mine," Luciano was saying. "I won five grand on him last week."
"You going to put a bet on his fight with Lou Domenic?"
"Sure. I'm betting ten big ones."
"What odds do you have to lay?"
"Ten-to-one. But what the hell? Rizzoli's a shoo-in."
Tony Rizzoli was not certain what the conversation meant. He went to his older brother, Gino, and told him about it.
"Jesus!" his brother exclaimed. "Those guys are bet-tin' big money on you."
"But why? I'm not a professional."
Gino thought for a moment. "You've never lost a fight, have you, Tony?"
"No."
"What probably happened is that they made a few small bets for kicks, and then when they saw what you could do they began betting for real."
The younger boy shrugged. "It don't mean nothin' to me.
Gino took his arm and said earnestly, "It could mean a lot to you. To both of us. Listen to me, kid..."
The fight with Lou Domenic took place at Stillman's Gym on a Friday afternoon and all the big boys were there - Frank Costello, Joe Adonis, Albert Anastasia, Lucky Luciano, and Meyer Lansky. They enjoyed watching the young boys fight, but what they enjoyed even more was the fact that they had found a way to make money on the kids.
Lou Domenic was seventeen, a year older than Tony and five pounds heavier. But he was no match for Tony Rizzoli's boxing skills and killer instinct.
The fight was five rounds. The first round went easily to young Tony. The second round also went to him. And the third. The mobsters were already counting their money.
"The kid's going to grow up to be a world champion," Lucky Luciano crowed. "How much did you bet on him?"
"Ten grand," Frank Costello replied. "The best odds I could get was fifteen-to-one. The kid's already got a reputation."
And suddenly, the unexpected happened. In the middle of the fifth round, Lou Domenic knocked out Tony Rizzoli with an upper cut. The referee began to count...very slowly, looking apprehensively out at the stony-faced audience.
"Get to your feet, you little bastard," Joe Adonis screamed. "Get up and fight!"
The counting went on, and even at that slow pace, it finally reached ten. Tony Rizzoli was still on the mat, out cold.
"Son of a bitch. One lucky punch!"
The men began to add up their losses. They were substantial. Tony Rizzoli was carried to one of the dressing rooms by Gino. Tony kept his eyes tightly closed, afraid that they would find out he was conscious and do something terrible to him.
It was not until Tony was safely home that he began to relax.
"We did it!" his brother yelled excitedly. "Do you know how much fucking money we made? Almost one thousand dollars."
"I don't understand. I..."
"I borrowed money from their own shylocks to bet on Domenic, and got fifteen-to-one odds. We're rich."
"Won't they be mad?" Tony asked.
Gino smiled. "They'll never know."
The following day when Tony Rizzoli got out of school there was a long black limousine waiting at the curb. Lucky Luciano was in the backseat. He waved the boy over to the car. "Get in."
Tony Rizzoli's heart began to pound. "I can't, Mr. Luciano, I'm late for..."
"Get in."
Tony Rizzoli got into the limousine. Lucky Luciano said to the driver, "Go around the block."
Thank God he wasn't being taken for a ride!
Luciano turned to the boy. "You took a dive," he said flatly.
Rizzoli flushed. "No, sir. I..."
"Don't shit me. How much did you make on the fight?"
"Nothing, Mr. Luciano. I..."
"I'll ask you once more. How much did you make by taking that dive?"
The boy hesitated. "A thousand dollars."