Frankie the Mobster

Yard sales are something Marti and I have always liked.  We were at one in particular where I spotted a black fedora hat.  I have never owned one.  I tried it on and it was a perfect fit.  It was just a couple of bucks so I bought it.

Later that week, we headed to Reno, Nevada, for work where we had a number of clients booked.  It was cold up there, so I took my newly acquired hat and my big gray overcoat.
When we arrived in Reno, it had been snowing and was very cold.  While we were walking through the hotel lobby, I told Marti I felt like a gangster, with the hat and big coat.  I walked along with her, joking around, saying in a deep hoarse voice, which sounded like it belonged in New York or New Jersey; "Yeah, I'm Frankie, anybody gets in the way, I'll break their arms or their legs."  Marti laughed and while we were there I pretended to be Frankie quite often.  It got to the point where I remember saying to her, "You know, I think this is a real guy, a real mobster.  But, I don't know how I can prove it!"
Near the end of our stay, we did a group session at a friend's house.  We knew the husband of one of the couples attending a little bit, but had not met his wife.  During the course of the evening, some of the wife's people on the other side came by to say hello.  It was getting late and we were just about to wrap up the session.  At that moment, I felt the mobster, whom I thought might be a figment of my imagination, wanting to say something to the couple.  I looked around for the hat to put on, but it was in the car.  Speaking in the east coast accent, I said; "By the way, Frankie wants to say goodbye!"
The husband, James just looked at me, very surprised, and said, "I know a Frankie, who talked just like that!"
"Really?" I asked.  "Is he a mobster?"
"Oh, yeah!" he said.
"Like, a real heavy duty mobster?" I asked.  "A 'break your arms or legs type' of mobster maybe even more?"
"Oh, yeah!!" he repeated, emphatically.
"Wow!" I said.  "This guys been following me around all week."
Frankie said goodnight again and the group session ended.
James told me later that he had known Frankie for years through his work at Harrah's Hotel Casino.
After that little enlightening encounter, we were walking along the corridor in the hotel to our room.  I felt the mobster around me yet again, so I asked him, "Where are you?  Are you in a good place?  What's going on with you?"
He replied, "Well....I'm a.. kinda reformed mobster."
"You're a reformed mobster?" I asked.  "So, what are you doing hanging around me?"
"Well, I bin sent here to protect ya, while you're up here," he said.
"You're my bodyguard?" I asked.
"I guess ya can look at it that way," he said.
I just laughed and thought to myself; I suppose, if someone needs protection, you can't do much better than to send an ex-mobster!

Some years later I was sitting in a tea room in Victorville, California.  The place was fairly empty, so Marti and I were relaxing, while sipping our favorite teas.  I started talking with the only other person in the room, a lady, and for some reason the connection with Frankie in Reno came up.   After telling her about him, she told me that she knew him in prison and that she was his warden.  She also informed me that he was known as 'Little Frankie' and he called her Mom.
Who would have thought that this small Hispanic lady, in this middle of nowhere town, would have known this very mobster?