Ponzi's Scheme Read Online Free PDF Page B

life of hand-to-mouth hardship. He considered writing home for help, but he could not bear the thought of disappointing his mother again. So he set off in the footsteps of millions of immigrants before him.
    For the next four years, Ponzi worked as a grocery clerk, a road drummer, a factory hand, and a dishwasher. He repaired sewing machines, pressed shirts, painted signs, sold insurance, and waited tables. He rarely lasted long—sometimes he was fired, sometimes he quit in disgust, and other times he quit to avoid being fired. He rambled up and down the East Coast, staying close to the ocean to ease his homesickness. He cadged meals and slept in parks when he could not afford a bed. One time in New York he saved a bit of money but blew it all on a two-week spree at Coney Island, the beachside amusement park where a young immigrant could forget his troubles on the Steeplechase ride, roam the “Electric Eden” of Luna Park, or chase girls in the dance hall at Stauch’s restaurant. But that was a brief respite. His silken clothes fell to shreds and his years of the good life became a receding memory.
    In America, Carlo became Charles, and at times he found it useful to adopt a new last name: Bianchi, or “white,” which fit his fair complexion. English spellings of Italian names were not yet standardized, and he was also known as “Ponsi,” “Ponci,” and “Ponse.” He grew a mustache that sat on his upper lip like a bottlebrush. With the new names and new look came a new language. Soon he was as fluent in English as he was in Italian and French, and with his new tongue he began seeking jobs more suited to his dreams.
    In July 1907, he scraped together a few dollars for a train ticket to Montreal, arriving at the magnificent Gare Bonaventure with no baggage and a single dollar in his pocket. Ponzi walked up Rue Saint Jacques, Canada’s Wall Street, past ornate eight- and ten-story bank and insurance buildings that were the skyscrapers of their day. Not two blocks from the train station he saw the sign of an Italian bank, Banco Zarossi. Calling himself Charles Bianchi, he made himself as presentable as possible and walked confidently through the door. Five minutes later he was hired as a clerk. Ponzi/Bianchi was delighted. After four years of menial labor, he finally had a job that complemented his skills and fit his self-image. Never mind that it was just the sort of job he had rejected as beneath him in Italy.
    Canada was in the midst of an immigration wave of Italians, many of them brawny young men from the south of Italy who sought jobs in the coal mines of Nova Scotia and clearing forests for the Canada Pacific Railway. Nominally based in Montreal, they would be away from the city for months at a time. They needed a safe place to send their paychecks, but their business held little appeal for the British and Scottish financiers who lorded over Rue Saint Jacques. Banco Zarossi was one of several Montreal banks that had sprung up to fill the void.
    The bank’s owner, a jolly man named Luigi “Louis” Zarossi, had formerly been in the cigar business. But as soon as he’d entered the world of finance he’d been intent on beating his competitors. It was a daunting task, largely because another Italian bank, located almost directly across the street, was owned by the notorious Antonio Cordasco, the city’s richest and most powerful padrone. The padrone system of labor bosses was in full flower at the turn of the century in North American cities with large Italian immigrant populations. At its center were native Italians who formed relationships with companies seeking unskilled laborers, then established themselves, sometimes through force, as the men to see for jobs, housing, loans, travel papers, and everything else they could control. Cordasco was that man in Montreal. He ruled an extensive network of agents and subagents in his native country and Canada