You see, as far back as I can remember, my grandfather never wanted to be a gangster. He was an honest union guy who carved out a respectable middle-class living for his family, owned his own home, and was respected by friends and family alike as a stand-up guy.

But like just about anybody and everybody who grew up in South Brooklyn back then, he knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone, in “The Life.” He just happened to play cards with some of them when his varicose veins weren’t acting up.