On the 21st of September 1957, following a tip-off, police surrounded a house on Osborne Street in the inner city Melbourne suburb of Brunswick. Thirty-two men were detained and questioned as they left the house owned by a man named Domenico Versace. Incidentally, Domenico was the brother of Giuseppe, also called Fat Joe Versace, who had the dubious honour of being the victim of Melbourne’s “first” mafia hit. As the men were rounded up and searched, nearly all of them were found to be carrying weapons, namely various forms of knives, with two pistols being amongst the weapons gathered. All of the men would maintain that they had been attending a gathering in honour of Versace’s daughter, alternatively for her first birthday or Christening. This was despite the fact that the homeowners wife and child were not present. Eventually, twenty-two of the men detained that night would face weapons charges, which would result in some fines and jail sentences for a few repeat offenders.
Detective Sargeant Rosengreen of the CIB in Victoria would describe the informant that had advised of the meeting as a “young, intelligent and educated Italian”, of some years in Australia, induced into joining the Society’s ranks in recent times. Considered by Rosengreen to be an extremely reliable source, this informant would speak of regular such meetings being held to gather funds, to mediate and adjudicate conflicts and to impose fines and punitive type action towards those regarded as being in breach of Society rules. According to his information, the gathering in question had been a formal meeting of inner-city branches of the Honored Society of Melbourne, called to discuss an incident between the leader of the Melbourne City faction and a fellow member. The informant went on record identifying Society members he knew, describing a litany of rules and structures, while also detailing the reasons this particular meeting had been called. It was attended by men with surnames that are again found to repeat over decades.
The meeting was convened at the Versace residence in two groups; with Versace’s father-in-law Francesco Medici playing a lead role. The group was split between younger recruits, chaired by Serafino Tripodi, and the more senior members. A ritualistic gathering of weapons, chiefly knives, was conducted by Giuseppe De Gillio, who would return the weapons at the end of proceedings. De Gillio was also later detained but released and not charged.
The issue at hand was explained as follows; apparently on the 28th of August, Rocco Tripodi had paid an unexpected visit to an associate at Pentridge Prison, which was allowed by the wardens. During the visit, said associate advised Tripodi to explain to Domenico DeMarte that as a result, the prisoner had no more visiting right for the month. Tripodi, for what evver reason, failed to debrief the Society leader on the situation. When DeMarte subsequentially arrived at Pentridge on the 30th, he was barred from entry. Upon learning that Tripodi had failed to warn him, DeMarte’s characteristic temper dictated that Rocco Tripodi should stand “trial” and recieve judgement from the fraternity. Upon hearing both sides of the situation, Tripodi recieved a warning against re-offending in the same manner.
Rocco Tripodi was the second eldest of a family steeped in Society tradition. He and his younger brother Serafino had arrived in Australia in the early 1950’s, and at the time of the meeting gave their address as number 40 Sargood Street, Coburg. Also detained after the meeting was a man who gave his name as Vincenzo Tripodi, also of the same address, and descibed as either a brother or cousin. In his case, there was no record found of him with the Department of Immigration. The Tripodi’s were cousins to the Calabro family, who would go on later to play a part in Mildura’s scene.
The Tripodi’s were seemingly held in high regard, with Serafino being named as “Fourth-in-Charge” of the Society in Melbourne, as “employed” by Domenico DeMarte himself, then leader of the Melbourne ‘ndrine. In Rocco’s case, he is named as formerly being in charge of recruiting, and likely collecting “donation” fees, such as the £25 the informant recalled paying upon his entry. The Tripodi brothers are both described as “bad-types” in the CIB files, and their roles suggest some form of aggressive authority. Their rap sheets mention numerous acts of violence and larceny. Serafino would in following years be charged with indecent assaults against a female aged between ten and sixteen, charges on which he was acquitted on all accounts. Rocco had actually been considered for deportation by the time of the meeting, with multiple convictions for vehicle theft and possesion of dangerous weapons, including explosives.
Of note was the fact that Serafino had been detained in possesion of one of the two pistols discovered that night. In fact, this particular weapon was recognised in connection with another recent incident involving Rocco Tripodi. In August of the same year, Antonio Francesco Mule would recant a statement admitting that he had been shot in the foot by Rocco Tripodi with bullets that matched this same .32 gauge caliber pistol, at the time unrecovered. Mule was shot under what investigators have named as stand-over tactics, though for what is as yet to be ascertained.
In regards to Vincenzo, an anonymous letter recieved by investigators at a later date would suggest this was possiby an alias for Antonio Tripodi, said to have recently arrived illegally with his “criminal family”, visiting Sydney before returning to Melbourne to see Antonetta Tripodi, the wife of his brother/cousin Rocco, who was, at the time, in prison. The CIB files make mention of Antonetta’s naturalization hanging upon the pending decision of his possible deportation.
Of course, Domenico DeMarte’s notoriously unstable temper precedes him. With assault charges including slashing off half of a mans face with a razor, as well his participation in the ninety-five stab wounds inflicted upon Fat Joe Versace, he strikes as a man capable of taking extreme umbrage. Non-withstanding a percieved slight. One could also consider the notion of meeting at the house owned by the brother of the man he had helped to murder. It indicates an almost clinical example of sociopathy, an utter lack of empathy.
The Brunswick meeting established definitively the organised presence of the ‘ndrangheta in Victoria, some years even before the bloodshed of 1963 which took place within the confines of the Melbourne ‘ndrina. There was also the disturbing trend of violence that would linger around the men who made their living in the Markets. Starting shortly after the last of the two murders officially proscribed to the power-struggle, there were another two attacks on Italian men who shared the common traits; connected to the Victoria Markets and attacked with gunfire that could have possibly been intended murder.
Related in the history almost as an after-thought, an indication of the skullduggery and violence linked to the life of a Market fruiterer of Italian extraction. There is much conjecture on the subject of these two victims; numerous tomes link the two murders to the happenings of the Melbourne based ‘ndrine, others write it off as an unrelated affair. As per this writers research, do the two distinctions have to be mutually exclusive?
The first victim was the January 18th, 1964 shooting of 39 year old Antonio Monaco, described at the time of the attack as a former market gardener of Braeside. Contemporary reports seem eclectic, and put forward a number of different motives, a likely result of the court trials and numerous newspaper pieces that would follow. Before we begin moving to discuss an apparent motive, I would start by relating the established facts;
Monaco had left his door and moved to start walking to his workplace at the Markets from his Braeside home when he had been struck by shotgun pellets. Leaving Monaco wounded, but not in any serious condition, his assailant had fled. Monaco was also named in early government reports as a “mafia type” and reputed heavy.
Whether by design or coincidence, on the 11th of June, Monaco’s alleged shooters were arrested, the same day that Angelo DeMarte had been taken into custody for his involvement in the shotgun wounding of then ‘ndrine boss, Domenico DeMarte. Arrested for attacking Monaco were three Italian men, two of whom were brothers, and one nearly 20 years senior of the others. The men were identified as Francesco Tripodi, who at 41 years of age, and resident of Pietro Road, Kingston, was named as the shooter in the ambush. The others consisted of his younger brother Salvatore, aged 24 of Wolsley Street, Coburg and Salvatore Trimboli, aged 21 of Lome Street, Moonee Ponds. All were arraigned on charges of conspiracy to commit murder, with Francesco also being faced with charges of murder and greviously wounding. Once again, the surnames are familiar.
When the trial bega it was revealed the Crown had obtained a witness, who was more than willing to talk. Sitting in the dock, Giuseppe Capanni explained that he had contacted a Senior Detective Parkinson on May 7th, and had received only £60 for appearing, a sum that was spent on his hotel accommodation. Indeed, he seemed to have little to gain from his testimony, but strikes as determined to share his story, and get it off his chest.
According to Capanni, he had first met the accused Salvatore Trimboli about a year ago, becoming friendly over a card game at the Palma Bar, located on Sydney Street in Coburg. He explained how Trimbole had arrived in Melbourne in the August of 1963, while he himself had been in the country since 1952, albeit living primarily in South Australia.
Capanni’s first accusation was that at their first meeting, Trimboli had tried to solicit him to commit a murder for a cash payment, explaining a vendetta between two cousins that had begun in Calabria. According to Capanni, that following October he had accepted £40 from Trimboli to travel to Sydney for the purpose of recruiting a gunman.
It’s here that Capaddi’s story gets perhaps strange. He claimed in court that, although he had accepted the payment, he’d really had no intention of helping to arrange a murder; instead he’d seen an opportunity to make a quick dollar at Trimboli’s expense. Even when after, he admits to telling Trimboli the gunman wanted double what Trimboli had offered. In his cross examination, legendary solicitor Mr. F. Galbally, retained by the defence, led Capaddi through his story, making a point of passing judgement on his character by having him agree that he had not only “stoop[ed] to deceit and lies to make £40”, but that he’d been willing to “Let another man believe [Capaddi was] the type who would bring back a killer”? Capaddi gave his ascent by way of explaining that he had thought to show he was “smarter” than Trimboli. It seemed a rather convoluted story at best.
Antonio Monaco himself took the stand next, now making a living as the proprietor of a Victoria Street, East Melbourne milk-bar. No, he had no idea why Tripodi had shot him. No, he did not know any reason why Trimboli or the Tripodi’s should hate him. Although, he would add, he and Frank Tripodi had not been on speaking terms for most of the last 12 years. No mention was made of the reason. Next, the court heard evidence from police, including Senior Detectives Parkinson, A. R. Ritchie and G. Timmons. Their statements were brief and concise. Parkinson had discovered Trimboli with a sum of money, conveniently just about the sum he was supposedly offering for Monaco’s murder. The other Senior Detectives claimed that the suspect brothers had each offered unsolicited confessions, Ritchie taking Salvatore Tripodi’s admission of conspiracy to commit murder during an interview, and Frank Tripodi apparently claiming that he’d shot Monaco because the man had “ruined his life” and had caused his [Tripodi’s] wife to be sent to hospital. They were almost too transparently false claims that smacked of an easy, “official” solving of the case.
Later in the trial, Salvatore Trimboli had taken the stand. Questioned by his lawyer, he would steadfastly refute every-one of Capanni’s claims, and add a few of his own. In fact, he would state, it was Capanni himself that had sought Monaco’s death, and had made the approaches to himself and the Tripodi’s. For his part, during the trial Capanni would admit to having a number of convictions, but remained steadfast that he had been approached to commit the murder. The Crown’s case had started seemingly cut and dry, but the situation had been made murky. The most consistent reason for the shooting, committed by either Capanni or the accused, had been Monaco’s alleged indiscretions with another mans wife; never through-out the trial though had it been made clear exactly who’s wife was in question.
On Friday, the 18th of September, the trial ended. By this time, Capanni had been placed under police protection, and the accused were acquitted, with a large amount of given evidence struck from the record, including the alleged confessions, which the presiding auhtority Justice Scholl found the accused to have been induced into making them under duress. An odd case for sure, and in the end could have raised more questions than were answered. And the fact remains that Monaco is listed in contemporary CIB files as a “mafia type”.
The second attack was that on Domenico Cirillo, a retail fruiterer at the Queen Victoria Markets who had been shot in the right arm in his backyard, shortly after 4.30 in the morning of February 6th, 1964. The court case that followed was rather less confusing than the Monaco case. Interestingly, in both cases the accused were defended by Frank Galbally.
In the Cirillo case, it was set out rather straight forward. Claiming she could not live with his physical abuse and demands any longer, Domenico’s wife Angela had offered her 17 year old brother, identified as Giuseppe Araco of Smith Street, Moonee Ponds, £2000 to kill her husband. In turn, Araco recruited a friend, Nazzareno Conte, aged 22 years of Eglinton Street, Moone Ponds. Both men gave their occupations as labourer. The three were arraigned on murder charges two days after the attack, and entered pleas of not guilty.
The following trial played out much more the way a failed romance may expect to be. Cirillo denied having ever mistreated his wife. He explained that he had actually paid the £199 fare for his sisters younger brother to sail to Australia. Cirillo expounded that, in fact, Araco had been given free lodging with the Cirillo’s, and had even provided Araco with a decently paying job at the Markets. Given this charity, one could possibly understand if Cirillo harbored resentment towards the young man he claimed had shot him. He further detailed falling out with Araco, who had apparently informed Cirillo that he “didn’t want to work anymore”. Following an argument Araco had moved out, and Angela had gone with him. According to Cirillo, it was after this that his marital problems began.
Cirillo spoke of more occasions in which he’d helped Araco, helping him find work and giving him money. Eventually, through the course of the trial it was learned that Angela stood to gain approximately £30000 in assets in the event of Cirillo’s death. By the 11th of April, the accused had changed their pleas to guilty, and been remanded for sentencing.
These two cases do in fact offer some insight into the state of affairs in Melbourne during the early 1960’s. To draw out the conclusions; it seems rather clear from the smooth court proceedings and convictions that the Cirillo case was, in fact, a domestic dispute. The Monaco case is not as clear. Despite the stated reasoning, nothing was ever properly substantiated. And the back and forth claims between Capannii and the accused make the situation even more confusing. And a cynic might take the view that, in light of the claims made by Trimboli, Capanni had turned Crown evidence in a clumsy attempt to cut a deal for himself and saddle the accused with any blame.
There is any important difference however, between these two attacks which get regularly listed in true-crime tomes alongside true gangland shootings and murders. Commonly listed as indicative of the dangers faced by Italian males involved with the Victoria Markets after the eponymous murders, the events are nonetheless understood to; 1)Have been domestic disturbances that 2)Not have any direct connection to the tumult of Melbourne’s ‘ndrine at the time. The Monaco case though, is more less clear cut.
Firstly, there is a connection between the names. There were Trimboli, and definitely Tripodi’s present at the Osborne St, Brunswick meeting of the Melbourne Honored Society Secondly, there is a tendency to extrapolate a connection between the accused Salvatore Trimboli and the Trimboli clan that consolidated power through the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. And of course, the normalization of gun play and aggression, and the ease with which the young men seem to able to slip into a culture and lifestyle of violence. Was this mindset and ‘machismo’ endemic of the Calabrian mafia or young Italian men of mid-century Melbourne?
On the 24th of September 1956, Giuseppe Madafferi violently murdered his wife Giuseppina in the street outside her lovers house. Madafferi, who kept a grocery store in Footscray, would maintain that he loved his wife very much and had simply wanted her to return to the home they shared with their children. His statement would plead self-defecnce. Witnesses described a brutal scene committed in the throes of a jealous rage, kneeling over her in the street. For the four days prior, she had been living with a man named Orlando Spataro, described as a wharf labourer who had apparently become Giuseppina’s paramour. With their children without a guardian, Giuseppe was granted bail, charged with murdering his wife.
During the trial Giuseppe’s counsel, emerging legend of Melbourne’s law fraternity and future QC Mr. Frank Galbally himself, entered evidence supported by Giuseppe’s brother Francesco, who stated that Madafferi’s childreb were “pining” for him, and had been missing school. Detective K. McMahon would agree with Galbally that Giuseppina had wounded her husband with a knife. Giuseppe would eventually be convicted of a lessened murder charge. A tragic event essentially irrelevant to the Victorian Society, but for the fact that the Brunswick informant described funds being collected towards Madafferi’s legal fees and defence. At the time of the crime of passion, Giuseppe was thirty-one years old; Giuseppina twenty-seven. There were no direct sanguinary links, as per current research, to the Madafferi brothers of later decades Melbourne.
In fact, the following decades would realize a definite rising wave of violence washing over a certain mileau of Market identities. The ‘80’s and ‘90’s would document nearly twenty separate incidents of robbery, intimidation and stand-over, extreme violence and murder, and even that is only what is specifically relevant to then evolving Melbourne-based market intrigue.
More thoroughly examined in later chapters are some of the connection and dynamic between the ‘ndrine of the South to South-Eastern Seaboard. Between the thirty-odd nominal heads and the families they represented, there evolved the culture of a free-market, with the face to face “enterprise syndicate” type of liason becoming common between the traditionally allied families, also developing via interstate to international scopes. By 2010, Italian investigators had divided Australia up into Nine Locali, of which the majority answered to Plati bosses, with at least two of the locale’ belonging to Siderno Group interests.
Mafia in Australia 