Bandit's End

All day the wrinkled mother screamed denials of her son's death. "They'll never catch him," she cried, "never!" Next morning, when the carabinieri thrust her through the throng outside the morgue gates to view his body, Maria Giuliano at last broke down. "My blood," she croaked hoarsely, "my own blood." Then, turning fiercely towards a bank of news photographers, she spat out, "It's you who've brought my son to hell."

"If I Win." Like Maria, few Sicilians could believe at first that Salvatore Giuliano was really dead. He had been as handsome as a schoolgirl's dream, as vain and indestructible as a god on Olympus. For seven years in the mountain fastnesses of Sicily, he had been the king of bandits in a land where every bandit is looked upon as a king. Giuliano had gathered about him an army of 600 or more followers.

Like Robin Hood's men, his army would strike swiftly in small groups--kidnaping some purse-proud landlord here, killing a sheriff's man there--and fade elusively into mountain caves, vineyards and wheatfields. In seven years Giuliano's men had killed 79 national carabinieri, 25 local policemen, 40 civilians. They had collected more than $1,000,000 in ransoms from 30 kidnapings. Like Robin Hood's men they were said to rob only the rich & powerful. Half in hero worship and half in fear, the local peasants clamped their lips tight and kept their faces deadpan when police asked questions about Giuliano.

Giuliano took care to see that his name did not rust. When interest in his exploits flagged, Giuliano wrote letters to Palermo editors. Once he declared war on Italy and offered to meet ten government officials, one at a time, in mortal combat. "If I lose, I lose only my life," he said. "If I win, I take over the government." Two years ago Mama Giuliano was arrested for abetting the bandits. When she was later released in a general Holy Year amnesty, her son issued a statement to the papers thanking all concerned and suggesting an armistice between himself and the government. Several times he held press conferences in his mountain hideouts and permitted grateful photographers to spread his handsome features over the world's press.

Screen Test. Last year, Rome sent to Sicily hard-eyed Colonel Ugo Luca, a World War II Italian intelligence officer. With a special task force of 2,000 picked men, mostly bachelors, Luca set about combing Sicily for his prey.

Probing the hills and villages, Luca and his men identified one bandit after another, painstakingly weaned peasants away from their hero worship of Giuliano. Some of the bandits surrendered. When word got around that Luca treated them well, others followed, 76 in all. The carabinieri shot seven more on the hills and arrested 157. As the band scattered, some of the leaders fled to other lands, but the bandit king himself remained in Sicily.

Two months ago, Luca heard that Giuliano was moving down from the hills towards the vineyards of the south. The colonel ordered all his men in the area out of uniform and let it-be known that he himself was off to Rome. Then he baited a trap for Giuliano's vanity. He sent a troop of carabinieri into the wine district camouflaged as a moving picture unit. They were ordered to spread the word that they were making a picture about bandits. The unit was told to drop strong hints that a leading role might be available for Giuliano. With no names mentioned, a series of return hints from Giuliano soon led the "moviemakers" into the town of Castelvetrano.

There one night last week they found their man. The carabinieri opened fire. Giuliano fled, firing over his shoulder as he went. For 15 minutes the chase led on through labyrinths of twisted alleys and courtyards. Captain Antonio Perenze, leader of the carabinieri, hid in a doorway. A stalking figure crept up, machine gun set. Perenze blasted pointblank. The figure whirled, tottered and fell face down, a dark red splotch welling up under his white shirt.

A few minutes later Salvatore Giuliano lay dead, his upper body shattered by bullets. In his pocket was a package of mentholated cigarettes, a small flashlight and a photograph of himself.

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