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VOLUME XVI.
LIVING NOW
IN SHADOW
OF DEATH
At the window.
Three times have these sig
nificant words come. And
three times has Death fol
lowed in their wake.
To the three victims who have each
in turn received this strange mes
sage of death there may be added a
fourth, a brother of two of those who
have already died and a nephew of
the third whose life has been taken,
declares the New York World. He,
In fact, lives with the fear of death so
strong in his heart that no amount of
assurance can dissipate it.
To the words of those who seek to
allay the fear that is slowly but sure
ly overpowering him; that Is making
of a strong man a weakling, his an
swer is always the same:
"I am as a hand that Is hopelessly
raised when Death’s sickle is swing
ing."
It Is an answer familiar to the ears
of those who know of the bloody ven
dettas of Sicily. And it is an answer
most fitting, for the man stands in
fear of a Sicilian vendetta.
Crimes Justice Cannot Reach.
No crime o» series of crimes has
presented in years all the strange,
mysterious, well-nigh Inexplicable
features that are found in the Cardi
nelli vendetta, as it has come to be
known. Three times has the assassin
or assassins sent one message, a warn
ing of approaching death, and three
times has Death approached, struck
and made his escape.
It is now seventeen years and a few
months since the Cardinelli family
left a little town in the southern part
of Sicily. There was the father, Fran
cesca, his wife, his brother Giovanni,
and his three sons, Giuseppe, Bar
told! and Vincenzo. Francesca, his
wife and Vincenzo are still alive. The
others are dead and It is Vincenzo
who stands, as he says, “like a hand
that is helplessly raised when Death’s
sickle Is swinging."
Another, there was, who left Sicily
about the same time as did the Car
dlnellis. He was a friend. In Sicily
he had been a neighbor. In this coun
try he again became a neighbor and
the friendship of the olden days was
renewed.
Others, too, from time to time, left
their farms, their homes, and sold
their household belongings and jour
neyed to the land where things were
free, where money was plentiful and
where one might live without work
ing.
Story of The Other.
And the others had known the Car
dlnellls and the Other, who, In this
story at least, must go unnamed.
What, then, more natural than that
the CardinelHs, the Other, and the
others be friends here in the country
of their adoption? And so it was.
That much the police have learned
in their efforts to solve the mystery
of the Cardinelli vendetta.
It is not so many years ago that
New York was startled as it had sel
dom been before or since by a pecu
liarly atrocious murder. The victim’s
©he Snutnimi bulletin.
NUMBER 50.
body was discovered, jammed in a
barrel, in the early hours of the morn
ing.
The "barrel mystery,” as it has ever
since been known, was by no means
easy of solution. It took the trained
sleuths many weary hours of pains
taking work to finally trace the vic
tim’s history to Buffalo, and eventu
ally to lay their hands upon the men
whom they had charged with the
crime.
Finally Found Solution.
The success that did crown the ef
forts of the police in that case came
about through their knowledge of a
violent quarrel that had taken place
within the innermost circles of a des
perate band of counterfeiters. While
all had gone smoothly the murderers
and the victim of the “barrel" case
had been friends. The moment there
arose a sign of trouble the first step
was to seal forever' the lips of the
victim who knew and who was angry
and who might tell.
And in the Cardinelli vendetta the
solution, if it is ever found, will be
found by precisely the same methods.
There c-ime a time about four years
ago when the Other seemed to grow
tired of the ways in which the Car
dinellis were doing things. The others
evidently sided with the Other The
gang was broken up.
It was only a short time after that
a friend of the Cardinellis, one they
had made since they came to this
country, received a blackmailing let
ter from the Black Hand. The man
was sore troubled.
In his first moments of apprehen
sion he went to Giuseppe Cardinelli,
whom he trusted, and told him. Giu
seppe needed but a single glance at
the Black Hand letter to kr.ow from
, whom it came.
Straight to the Other -went Giuseppe.
Ho told him the man he was trying
to blackmail was a friend of the Car
dinellis and that he must leave the
man alone. The Other only smiled.
A week or so later Giuseppe receiv
ed a Black Hand letter warning him
. to mind his own business. That was
। the beginning of the Cardinelli ven
। detta.
Then came the first letter of warn
ing. Giuseppe and his young wife
and baby lived at 241 Hamilton ave
. nue, Brooklyn. One day the mall man
। brought a sealed, bedraggled looking
letter to the house. When Giuseppe
. opened it he turned pale, and without
a word walked out of the house.
Only six words stared out at him
across the single page of note paper
on which the letter was writtne. But
the words were a message of death.
All that met the gaze of the man
. who was already dead was this short
but terrible message.
“You will die —at the window.”
And Giuseppe Cardinelli did die.
though not at the window. It was less
than twenty-four hours after the let
ter came to his house that the Other
and two or three of the others came
■ to his house. On their faces were
; smiles. In their brown eyes was no
IRWINTON, WILKINSON COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1911.
sign of anger. They had come, said
the Other, that they might talk things
over.
Lured to His Death.
"It was not good that they should
be enemies,” said the Other. “Each
knew too much of the others. Would
not Giuseppe come out of the house,
take a little walk and talk things
over?”
Giuseppe did. He kissed his wife
and his baby and went out with the
men. An hour later the body of him
who had been Giuseppe Cardinelli was
found on a bench in Coffey park,
Brooklyn. A sharp knife had all but
severed the head, an equally sharp
stiletto had found its way into a dozen
different places on the body.
The police conducted an energetic
search for the murderer or murderers
of Giuseppe, but their efforts were
seemingly fruitless.
The Cardinellis were not inactive.
They did not need to guess who had
done the deed. They knew. The Oth
er and the others, they were the ones.
Giovanni, the uncle, was the most
active of all the Cardinellis in his ef
forts to avenge the death of his
nephew. How he did it he would not
tell the police, but Giovanni got word
from the Other that he must die.
“You will die —at the window,” read
the message.
Giovanni was not frightened. “It is
the Other,” he said, “but I will do to
him what he would do to me.” Brave
words, but empty. .
Police Could Do Nothing.
Two weeks to a day, or Jan. 18,
1909, after Giovanni received his word
of warning, he was sitting beside the
frosted window’s in the rear of the lit
tle poolroom he maintained at 28
Coles street, Brooklyn, when he was
shot dead.
Quickly the police reached the spot.
Back across the yard whence came
the shot that had killed Giovanni went
the police, straight to a house front
ing on the next street. But there the
trail stopped.
But if the police did not know then,
they do now, that the Cardinellis
knew who had fired the shot, even
though they would not tell.
“It is the work of the Other,” said
the Cardinellis.’ “The Other must
die.”
Little Is known just how much the
Cardinellis have retaliated against
their enemies. Yet no great stretch
of imagination is required to picture
the other side of the story.
Back no later than March of this
year a particularly sinister-looking Si
cilian w'as found lying badly wounded
in the gutter of a street in the Latin
quarter of St. Louis. In his body were
forty-three distinct knife wounds.
It was days before the police of St.
Louis were even able to force the man
to tell his name and admit that he
had come from New York. Other
than that he would not tell. Why or
how he had been injured, of that he
would not speak. Who had attacked
him? He knew, but he would not tell.
“I know; and 1 fix him,” was all he
would say.
In due course of time, thanks to
good nursing and a marvelous consti
tution, the man recovered and left the
hospital. The next day he disap
peared from St. Louis.
The Cardinelli Side.
Was that one incident in the other
side of the Cardinelli vendetta? The
police say it was.
Were it not, how, ask the police,
did the Cardinellis in New York know,
even before a word was published in
any newspaper, that the Other had
been stabbed forty-three times in a
street of St. Louis? For the injured
man was the Other.
And then came the third warning to
the Cardinellis.
Bartholdi Cardinelli lived in a mod
est fiat house at 344 E. 21st street,
New York. Right next door lived his
father, his mother and his brother.
Two years and more had passed
since the death of Giovanni. In the
Interim the Cardinellis had escaped all
harm. The vendetta for them, at
least, had apparently ceased to exist.
And then came the warning:
“You will die—at the window.”
The message did not seem to inter
fere with Bartholdi’s occupation as a
barber. To and from his work he
went, apparently as care-free as any
man could possibly be.
Bartholdi even dared to sit on the
front steps of the house In which he
lived in the early hours of the even
ings. But once he set foot across the
threshold of his own home—then all
was changed. There, and there only,
did danger lurk for him.
For two weeks Bartholdi Cardinal-
H’s form never showed at a window of
his home, either by day or by night.
And then came —death.
The night was particularly hot. The
small rooms of the flat were stuffy
and oppressive. Suddenly Bartholdi
rose from his chair, walked to the win
dow —fell back dead.
A pane of glass lay shattered on
the floor and five gaping wounds made
by as many crudely shaped slugs of
lead showed in his body.
Five minutes after the shooting the
entire block was surrounded by po
lice. Not a house, not a roof, not n
cellar escaped their search, but the
slayers were not to be found.
We
Got to
MOVE!
Why not come in and look
at the low prices" we are
making on our present stock
of goods.
Did You Ever Move?
The trouble and expense
attached===the worries—are
many. We’ve got lots of
goods —stuff that will just
help you over the summer===
and as it’s late we are going
to cut the price—then, too,
we don’t want to move these
goods. Come, let’s look
these values over. If you
do we sure will sell you
your needs.
Our new home after Sept,
i, entire “Ohlman Building.”
Your friends,
W. S. Myrick & Co.
SI.OO A YEAR.
