In much the same way a notorious crook named Lupo forced all the retail Italian grocers to buy from him, although his prices were considerably higher than those of his competitors.

Even Americans have not been slow to avail themselves of Camorrist methods.  There is a sewing machine company which sells its machines to Italian families on the instalment plan.  A regular agent solicits the orders, places the machines, and collects the initial dollar; but the moment a subscriber in Mulberry Street falls in arrears his or her name is placed on a black list, which is turned over by this enterprising business house to a “collector,” who is none other than the leading Camorrist, “bad man,” or Black Hander of the neighborhood.  A knock on the door from his fist, followed by the connotative expression on his face, results almost uniformly in immediate payment of all that is due.  Needless to say, he gets his camorra—­a good one—­on the money that otherwise might never be obtained.

It is probable that we should have this kind of thing among the Italians in America even if the Neapolitan Camorra and the Sicilian Mafia had never existed, for it is the precise kind of crime that seems to be spontaneously generated among a suspicious, ignorant, and superstitious people.  The Italian is keenly alive to the dramatic, sensational, and picturesque; he loves to intrigue, and will imagine plots against him when none exists.  If an Italian is late for a business engagement the man with whom he has his appointment will be convinced that there is some conspiracy afoot, even if his friend has merely been delayed by a block on the subway.  Thus, he is a good subject for any wily lago that happens along.  The Italians in America are the most thrifty of all our immigrant citizens.  In five years their deposits in the banks of New York State amounted to over one hundred million dollars.  The local Italian crooks avail themselves of the universal fear of the vendetta, and let it be generally known that trouble will visit the banker or importer who does not “come across” handsomely.  In most cases these Black Handers are ex-convicts with a pretty general reputation as “bad men.”  It is not necessary for them to phrase their demands.  The tradesman who is honored with a morning call from one of this gentry does not need to be told the object of the visit.  The mere presence of the fellow is a threat; and if it is not acceded to, the front of the building will probably be blown out by a dynamite bomb in the course of the next six weeks—­whenever the gang of which the bad man is the leader can get around to it.  And the bad man may perhaps have a still badder man who is preying upon him.  Very often one of these leaders or bosses will run two or three groups, all operating at the same time.  They meet in the back rooms of saloons behind locked doors, under pretence of wishing to play a game of zecchinetta unmolested, or in the gloaming in the