About Me
click the picture to JOIN 'THE CORLEONE FAMILY'
click the picture to JOIN 'THE CORLEONE FAMILY'
I was born Vito Andolini on December 7, 1891 in Corleone, Sicily.
In 1901, my father, Antonio Andolini, was murdered by a Sicilian mob boss named Don Francesco Ciccio because of an insult. My older brother, Paolo, swore revenge and disappeared into the mountains. I was the only male heir left to stand with with mother, Signora Andolini, at the funeral of my father. However, during the funeral, Paolo was also murdered. Some time afterwards, henchmen of Don Ciccio came to the residence of the Andolinis to take me away and have me killed. However, Signora Andolini declared that she would bring Vito with him to see the mafia chieftain.
When she went to see him, she begged for my life to be spared, saying that i was a harmless boy, but Ciccio refused. Ciccio knew that although i might be a harmless boy at that moment, if he allowed me to grow up and become a man, that man would eventually come back, no longer harmless and now seeking revenge. Upon Ciccio's refusal, my mother put a knife to his throat and told me to run. She was immediately killed by one of Ciccio's henchmen, but i ran from the residence and successfully evaded the henchmen sent after me. Later that night, Ciccio's men continued to search the streets of Corleone for the boy, but i was secretly smuggled away by close friends of the Andolinis.
I was able to flee Sicily and head to America on a cargo ship full of immigrants, i was renamed on Ellis Island as Vito Corleone. I was later adopted by the Abbandando family in New York, and i befriended Genco Abbandando, who later became like a brother to me. In the years to come, i met my future wife, Carmela Corleone, and married her, having an infant boy named Santino in 1916.
For awhile, myself and Genco worked together in the Abbandando Groceria, the owner of the store being Genco's father, Signor Abbandando. However, I lost my job when the neighborhood Don, Fanucci, forced Signor Abbandando to give my job to Fanucci's nephew. I forgave Signor Abbandando, telling him that i understood that Abbandando had no choice, and that i wouldn't forget how good Abbandando had been to me.
I later met Peter Clemenza, and Clemenza gave me an opportunity to obtain a rug for my home. So, both him and i went into the home of Clemenza's friend, who was not home, and we took his rug, almost being caught by a police officer.
I soon learned to survive and prosper through petty crime and performing favors in return for loyalty. I committed my first murder, killing the neighborhood Don of the Black Hand, in 1919. As a young man, i started an olive oil business with my lifelong friend and "consigliere" (advisor) Genco Abbandando. Over the years i used it both to amass a fortune and as a legal front for my organized crime syndicate. While i oversaw a business founded on gambling, bootlegging and murder, i was known as a kind, generous man who lived by a strict moral code of loyalty to friends and, above all, family.
I tried to spread these morals throughout the New York crime world - i disagreed with many of the vicious crimes carried out by gangs and so sought to control crime in New York by either consuming or eliminating rival gangs - it was in this "war" were i was injured in a gunfight with Irish gunmen and my son Santino took over and became known and feared for his ruthless but effective city warfare methods which perhaps surppassed that of his father - there were however 5 mafia familys too large to eliminate and so the Corleone family worked alongside them and i formed the council of the families to procede over major matters affecting them and installed the Corleone family as the greatest in New York.
In 1945, a rival tried to have me assassinated when i refused to have my underlings sell drugs, sparking a chain of events that resulted in my son Santinos murder and Michael's eventual ascension to the head of the family, which i never wanted, for my favorite son.
i died of a heart attack in July 29, 1955, while playing with my grandson, Anthony.
"A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."
There are people in this world who go about demanding to be killed. You must have noticed them. They quarrel in gambling games. They jump out of their automobiles in a rage. They humiliate and bully people whose capabilities they do not know. These are people who wander through the world shouting, "kill me". And there's always someone ready to oblige to them.
