1<br >I went to the Orient because of Eddie Gardenia. Being<br >fourteen in 1937 was no easy deal even if we were the<br >two gutsiest kids ever tO hit Long Island City. Most<br >times， we just roamed the streets between Steinway<br >and the bridge， but sometimes we d venture out along<br >Astoria or Vernon Boulevard to rumble with a rival<br >gang or to grab our share of what New York City had<br >to offer. In those days， half the ~country was out of<br >work and the other half was waiting to be fired. Our<br >neighborhood was typical of othei~ in the five bor-<br >oughs， a place where only the local whore and num-<br >bers runner made any money worth talking about.<br >Naturally， everybody else was looking out for a few<br >extra bucks. If you could survive here， you could<br >make it anywhere.<br > Eddie was hardly a tough guy， even though he d go<br > along with the game. I knew my cousin better than<br > anybody， and every time we were on the prowl， I<br > could hear his insides shaking. He had guts， sure， but<br > tough? Well， that just wasn t Eddie. Don t get me<br > wrong. He was no coward. He was just an overly<br > cautious guy who took more than his share of beat-<br > ings. I d always made it my business to be there when<br > he needed me because Eddie was the only person I<br > could trust， the only person I dared have any faith in.<br > With no questions. It was that way ever since I can<br > remember. Eddie， an orphan at the age of two， came<br > to live with us. My mother and father treated him as if<br >19<br ><br >