The Tomato Salesman (Part 1)
Inside the Secret Empire of Carlos Marcello
New Orleans. A Monday night—May 5, 1947. Just after nightfall on the dark side of town.
Fancy cars with out-of-state plates roll pass the Black Diamond Lounge and park in the shadows of dilapidated buildings and one dead cypress tree in the 300 block of North Galvez Street.
The Creole waiters and musicians in the bar served sit-downs before, but this night felt different. Maybe the caliber of men slipping into the backroom had more to discuss than the usual imported prostitutes, narcotics, or rigged novelty machines.
At the head of the table, a small man settles into his chair. Five feet two inches, with a broad Sicilian face and dark eyes that register everything but share nothing. When the man speaks, the words come in a rolling drawl part Sicilian, part Yat.
Most in the room know the man as Carlos Marcello.
Young Carlos is thirty-seven years old. By the time the men in this room finish their business, he will take his first steps to become the most powerful crime …
