CORLEONE, Italy -- Here in the harsh, tawny hills of central Sicily, proud residents of Corleone are trying to take back the name immortalized by Marlon Brando and made synonymous with the Cosa Nostra.
That nasty reputation of their town as a home for murderous thugs is simply mistaken, they say. Oh sure, directions are often given in relation to the sites of famous slayings. ("Turn right where they offed the Bandito Giuliano") And the wives and children of some of Sicily's most notorious Mafia dons (jailed or on the lam) live in Corleone.
But take the town's "Mafia tour," as 1,700 visitors have so far this year, and you hear not only about the local history of organized crime, but also the efforts of a handful of brave souls to fight it.
Corleone is trying hard to shed its image. But is the Mafia ever really very far away?
"I think they're laughing at us," said Gino Felicetti, a young dentist who guides the Mafia tours. "They leave us alone for now. But if these tours ever take off and become moneymaking, they'll want to be part of it."
Like Corleone, the Mafia on this island of vineyards, ancient Greek temples and half-finished concrete buildings has spent the last few years carefully burnishing its public guise and courting a new air of respectability. But even if it rarely makes headlines these days, the Cosa Nostra is, in fact, flourishing.
Mafia capos have suspended their most viciously violent campaigns -- the ones where they might blow up a prosecutor visiting his mother or melt a young boy in acid -- and instead are running commercial enterprises, securing government construction contracts and calmly claiming protection money from vast numbers of Sicily's residents.
They have become a gentler breed of criminals, harder to fight, virtually impossible to stop.
"The Mafia today is less violent, but much more infiltrated into daily life," said Silvana Saguto, a judge 56 kilometers away in the Sicilian capital, Palermo, who, in 23 years on the bench, has sent many a mobster to jail.
All Mafia clans were violent, but the most savage was the Corleone gang. Writer Mario Puzo gave the town's name to his fictional "Godfather," Don Vito Corleone, in his 1969 opus, which became the basis for the classic film trilogy.
The less vicious Mafia dates to just over a decade ago.
In 1992, the crusading anti-Mafia Judge Giovanni Falcone was murdered, blown up as he drove from the Palermo airport to the city. His wife and three police bodyguards were killed along with him.
Two months later, his associate and the chief prosecutor for Palermo, Paolo Borsellino, met a similar fate. A car bomb outside his mother's apartment building killed him and five bodyguards as he arrived for a visit.
The carnage had gone too far and unleashed a backlash, what Sicilian political scientist Umberto Santino calls a boomerang. The Sicilian public rebelled, tougher laws and longer jail sentences were enacted and, for a period, authorities scored significant victories in their fight against the Mafia.
After the arrest in 1993 of Salvatore "The Beast" Riina, the capo di tutti i capi -- the boss of bosses -- the Mafia under his successor, Bernardo "The Tractor" Provenzano, made a strategic decision to temper its methods, lower its profile and stick to the lucrative but less visible business of corruption and protection rackets.
And thus it became what Palermo's chief prosecutor, Piero Grasso, calls the Invisible Mafia. It keeps out of the limelight, uses persuasion instead of murder, and has gradually, quietly expanded its grip on Sicilian economic life.
Gone are the days when gangsters charged a handful of businesses exorbitant extortion fees. Now an estimated 80% of all Palermo's shopkeepers pay some amount of protection money -- known as the pizzo.
It's part of the new style, Grasso said, citing today's mantra: "Pagare tutti, pagare meno," which essentially means, everyone pays less, but everyone pays.
Anti-Mafia activists said they feared that the relative peace was lulling Italians into a false sense that organized crime was no longer dangerous. The gains after the Falcone-Borsellino slayings are gradually being eroded, they said, especially during what they see as a permissive climate fostered by Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.
Berlusconi, a multibillionaire businessman who is on trial on bribery charges, routinely rails against judges and prosecutors as mentally deficient communists.
The Sicilian branch of Berlusconi's Forza Italia (Go Italy) party has for years been accused of having mob connections. Party officials have denied the claim. A Mafia turncoat last year testified that Berlusconi once held a meeting with Mafia dons at his villa near Milan; the testimony came during the trial of one of Berlusconi's old friends and business partners, who is accused of ties to organized crime.
In Corleone, unemployment is high and the pace is slow. But the streets are calm.
"Corleone has changed a lot in 15 years," said Maria Stella Lino, a 46-year-old homemaker. The fear that kept people in their homes after dusk, shuttered businesses and discouraged small-town social life is gone, she said.
Lino recalled how Mardi-Gras-style carnivals, typical throughout Italy, were banned for years in Corleone because authorities worried that mobsters would use the costumes as cover to kill their enemies.
"Now we have carnivals, with masks, every year," she said. "The Mafia is part of the culture. But it's hidden now."
Felicetti, the young dentist who conducts the tours, and his partner, Fausto Iaria, like to surprise their guests with a first stop at the town's cathedral. Corleone gave the world two saints, they tell visitors.
Felicetti and Iaria said they hoped visitors would take away another impression of Corleone.
"But to be honest," Iaria said, "they come here because of 'The Godfather.'"
That nasty reputation of their town as a home for murderous thugs is simply mistaken, they say. Oh sure, directions are often given in relation to the sites of famous slayings. ("Turn right where they offed the Bandito Giuliano") And the wives and children of some of Sicily's most notorious Mafia dons (jailed or on the lam) live in Corleone.
But take the town's "Mafia tour," as 1,700 visitors have so far this year, and you hear not only about the local history of organized crime, but also the efforts of a handful of brave souls to fight it.
Corleone is trying hard to shed its image. But is the Mafia ever really very far away?
"I think they're laughing at us," said Gino Felicetti, a young dentist who guides the Mafia tours. "They leave us alone for now. But if these tours ever take off and become moneymaking, they'll want to be part of it."
Like Corleone, the Mafia on this island of vineyards, ancient Greek temples and half-finished concrete buildings has spent the last few years carefully burnishing its public guise and courting a new air of respectability. But even if it rarely makes headlines these days, the Cosa Nostra is, in fact, flourishing.
Mafia capos have suspended their most viciously violent campaigns -- the ones where they might blow up a prosecutor visiting his mother or melt a young boy in acid -- and instead are running commercial enterprises, securing government construction contracts and calmly claiming protection money from vast numbers of Sicily's residents.
They have become a gentler breed of criminals, harder to fight, virtually impossible to stop.
"The Mafia today is less violent, but much more infiltrated into daily life," said Silvana Saguto, a judge 56 kilometers away in the Sicilian capital, Palermo, who, in 23 years on the bench, has sent many a mobster to jail.
All Mafia clans were violent, but the most savage was the Corleone gang. Writer Mario Puzo gave the town's name to his fictional "Godfather," Don Vito Corleone, in his 1969 opus, which became the basis for the classic film trilogy.
The less vicious Mafia dates to just over a decade ago.
In 1992, the crusading anti-Mafia Judge Giovanni Falcone was murdered, blown up as he drove from the Palermo airport to the city. His wife and three police bodyguards were killed along with him.
Two months later, his associate and the chief prosecutor for Palermo, Paolo Borsellino, met a similar fate. A car bomb outside his mother's apartment building killed him and five bodyguards as he arrived for a visit.
The carnage had gone too far and unleashed a backlash, what Sicilian political scientist Umberto Santino calls a boomerang. The Sicilian public rebelled, tougher laws and longer jail sentences were enacted and, for a period, authorities scored significant victories in their fight against the Mafia.
After the arrest in 1993 of Salvatore "The Beast" Riina, the capo di tutti i capi -- the boss of bosses -- the Mafia under his successor, Bernardo "The Tractor" Provenzano, made a strategic decision to temper its methods, lower its profile and stick to the lucrative but less visible business of corruption and protection rackets.
And thus it became what Palermo's chief prosecutor, Piero Grasso, calls the Invisible Mafia. It keeps out of the limelight, uses persuasion instead of murder, and has gradually, quietly expanded its grip on Sicilian economic life.
Gone are the days when gangsters charged a handful of businesses exorbitant extortion fees. Now an estimated 80% of all Palermo's shopkeepers pay some amount of protection money -- known as the pizzo.
It's part of the new style, Grasso said, citing today's mantra: "Pagare tutti, pagare meno," which essentially means, everyone pays less, but everyone pays.
Anti-Mafia activists said they feared that the relative peace was lulling Italians into a false sense that organized crime was no longer dangerous. The gains after the Falcone-Borsellino slayings are gradually being eroded, they said, especially during what they see as a permissive climate fostered by Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.
Berlusconi, a multibillionaire businessman who is on trial on bribery charges, routinely rails against judges and prosecutors as mentally deficient communists.
The Sicilian branch of Berlusconi's Forza Italia (Go Italy) party has for years been accused of having mob connections. Party officials have denied the claim. A Mafia turncoat last year testified that Berlusconi once held a meeting with Mafia dons at his villa near Milan; the testimony came during the trial of one of Berlusconi's old friends and business partners, who is accused of ties to organized crime.
In Corleone, unemployment is high and the pace is slow. But the streets are calm.
"Corleone has changed a lot in 15 years," said Maria Stella Lino, a 46-year-old homemaker. The fear that kept people in their homes after dusk, shuttered businesses and discouraged small-town social life is gone, she said.
Lino recalled how Mardi-Gras-style carnivals, typical throughout Italy, were banned for years in Corleone because authorities worried that mobsters would use the costumes as cover to kill their enemies.
"Now we have carnivals, with masks, every year," she said. "The Mafia is part of the culture. But it's hidden now."
Felicetti, the young dentist who conducts the tours, and his partner, Fausto Iaria, like to surprise their guests with a first stop at the town's cathedral. Corleone gave the world two saints, they tell visitors.
Felicetti and Iaria said they hoped visitors would take away another impression of Corleone.
"But to be honest," Iaria said, "they come here because of 'The Godfather.'"