Deep Dish with Extra Mobzarella

                                                                                     

The Philadelphia Story — a classic. (Meaning old. And it is.) It began as a 1939 Broadway play and became a 1940 romantic comedy starring Cary Grant, Katharine (Yes – spelled with an a not an e) Hepburn, and James Stewart.

If you’ve  received enough Medicare Advantage junk mail to wallpaper the bathroom, (and who does that anymore?)  there’s a slim chance you’ve seen the movie. If not, Tubi offers it free.

The story takes place among Philadelphia’s elite, out on the Main Line — Radnor, Bryn Mawr, Merion, and other communities where old money, family pedigree, and knowing which fork to use were serious business. These were places where the family name opened doors.

Think of a Giordano’s stuffed pizza: a mountain of goodness, a generous layer of Wisconsin mozzarella, and another crust on top to seal the whole thing in. That was the Main Line — everything neatly contained beneath a respectable exterior. La pizza è buonissima!  You get it.

But across town, things were a little different.

They called it the Block. In South Philly and Kensington, rows of nearly identical red-brick houses stood shoulder to shoulder. You didn't sit behind estate gates. You parked your butt  on the concrete stoop out front, grabbed a Yuengling, talked with the neighbors, and kept an eye on what was happening up and down the street.

“Hey! Watch where you’re walk’n that mutt!”

Neighborhood pizza shops were part of the landscape. You knew the owner, knew what you liked, and knew that the sauce was something special. Nobody needed to explain the recipe.

One of those places was Italian Delight.

Step inside and the aroma punched you square in the face — garlic, tomatoes, bubbling cheese, and enough grease to  stop your Apple watch. The ovens hummed and the smell followed you home.

“Pizza? You went for pizza? Where’s my slice?”   She could smell it on your clothes dummy.

But Italian Delight had a lot more going on than pizza. But it was “business” and not personal.

Capisce?

According to the Pennsylvania Crime Commission, organized crime had established a foothold in the pizza,  cheese business, and related businesses using legitimate-looking shops and supply companies to move money, evade taxes, exploit workers, and support criminal enterprises.  In Pennsylvania, there were pizza parlors  doing double duty

These were typically  mom and pops, unassuming places where cash changed hands and records had a habit of disappearing. Everything was crooked. Customers paid in cash, but the  sales were never recorded. Skimming was a specialty not on the menu.

At Italian Delight at the King of Prussia Mall, Antonio Stabile skimmed as much as $8,000 a week. Over six years, the total approached a million dollars.

And the money wasn't the only thing being kept off the books.

Investigators also documented the use of illegal  workers, paid in cash and subjected to harsh, exploitative conditions. No proper records, no protection, and precious few options if somebody decided to take advantage of them.

Do as you're told. Keep your mouth shut. And whatever you do, don't open the trunk.

Then there was the matter of competition.

In a legitimate business, if the pizza down the street is selling better, you improve your own recipe. You buy better cheese, lower your prices, or put up a sign advertising  a dollar (Make it $2) a slice.

In the mob's version of free enterprise, it didn’t work like that. The Little Italy Pizza Shop in Pottstown was firebombed three times in ten months. Eventually, the owners got the message.

And sometimes, the consequences were much worse.

On January 4, 1973, the body of pizza-shop owner Stefano Sciarrano was found in Bristol, Pennsylvania. Police records describe his hands as tied behind his back with rough jute twine — the kind typically used wrapping pizza boxes.

The criminal side of the pizza business could be deadly.

And then there was the big cheese.

Enter “Joe” - Joseph Bonanno Sr., the Mafia figure associated with a far-reaching network of businesses and distribution arrangements connected to the pizza trade. Joe’s operation extended beyond the neighborhood shop to the companies supplying the ingredients, the trucks delivering them, with money changing hands along the way.

Think vertical integration. From the cheese to the counter, the more of the supply chain you control, the more opportunities you have to make money — legitimate or otherwise.

Companies associated with the network included Roma Foods in New Jersey and cheese suppliers in Wisconsin. The Pennsylvania Crime Commission examined how relationships among suppliers, distributors, and pizza parlors helped organized crime extend its reach and conceal its activities.

The Philly mob's business menu included more than skimmed receipts: racketeering, tax fraud, intimidation, and violence. An ordinary pizza parlor could turn into  a front for something quite different. Behind the red-brick row houses and legitimate neighborhood storefronts were the Mobzarellas — pizza shops that offered more than sausage and cheese

 

‘Hey...you’re gonna pick that up, right ?”