CORSICA’S BANDIT KING.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20280, 14 April 1934, Page 22 (Supplement)

CORSICA’S BANDIT KING.

SPIES AGAIN BESET ANDRE SPADA. HUGE PRICE ON OUTLAW’S HEAD INSPIRES ENEMIES—ALLIANCE WITH BROTHER-IN-LAW HAS UNFORTUNATE RESULTS—WARNING LETTER ISSUED THROUGH PUBLIC PRESS—POLICE CONSPIRACY WITH BANDIT TO TRAP BANDIT FAILS—UGLY BRAWL IN COUNTRY TAVERN— SPADA ON THE ALERT IN THE HILLS ONCE MORE. I Having again taken to the hilla after his unfortunate attempt to take revenge • on his unfaithful wife, Andr9 Spad«t was next troubled with the spy nuisance. . The huge price placed on his head by the police acted as an incentive to his ' betrayal by covetous enemies, and the notorious bandit was more constantly on | hie guard. His wife’s brother, a former friend, took to the hills also, and enli3ted ? the assistance and sympathy of Spada which was freely given, any suspicion r . being nullified by the friendship that had previously existed between them. I Spada's new "cumpa,” however, was a slave to alcohol, and this led to over ; indulgence, and a too great freedom of the tongue, the consequence being that » a quarrel took place, and Spad* we* once more a lone habitue of the. bush. , ! Then the police plotted with the. erstwhile companion of the bandit to enoompass ; the former’s death pr capture, but they found a wily adversary. .

(By ANDRE SPADA.—WorId Rights Reserved.)

For a time I was annoyed by spies. They had forgotten, perhaps, the excellent lesson I had given them. And then, too, it must be said that the price of 100,000 francs on my head inspired them a little. A spy is a spy, I suppose. He makes money wherever it can be made. Out of blood, if necessary. It is all ope to him. Happily there arc not. many of them in CorAll the same, those who occupied themselves with me at this time disturbed me, made me nervous. In the maquis a bandit soon gets to sense whether he is being spied on or not. I knew all the inhabitants, from the biggest to'the smallest, of-all thevillages up there. Tb me, who has-,the habit of looking,'jon- the world from a distance through binoculars, men are.'pigmies/ A village is an open book to mb.-When I get a man under observation, my binoculars reveal to me--Ms acts -and his. gestures better than any detective could, know them by trailing him. Well, then, 1 had seen some suspicious persons. I had a feeling that some dirty business was on foot. At last, to avoid r dipping my hands in blood again, I wrote , the following letter which the “Eveil de la Corse'* was quite willing to publish, as indeed at thatstime it published all my letters. w . “M le Directeur, “As an outlaw I am naturally pursued by the gendarmes. I do not wish to express an opinion on the zeal which they have brought to bear on ray pursuit; in any case I hasten to state that, though they fass by my door three or four times a day. would not use ray weapons against them, unless I were tracked tobcloseTy and the instinct of self-preservation got the better of me. ‘‘Quite different is my attitude to private persons, towards whom I endeavour to maintain the greatest discretion. And I cannot explain the attraction some of them feel to giving me annoyance. In spite of the repulsion I ffeel towards this last means of defence, I hasten to state that I: would be without pity for anybody other than the gendarmes (in uniform) whom 1 may find looking for me and spying on me. “I attach the greatest importance to this statement and would be greatly obliged, M. le Directeur, if you could find space for it in the columns of your estimable paper. 'Andre Spada.'* This letter did a great deal of good. It made the spies think twice. The papers performed a good action in publishing it, . and I must add that they did not lose any- . thing by it. In those days, when a paper published one of my letters, its eircula- ■ lion went up by bounds. And do not let anyone think that I am boasting. Any Corsican will confirm the -truth of- this statement. Bandits of Honour—And Otherwise. When I look to the maquis, there were already some other bandits there 'apart from itomanetti. There was Ettori ih the extreme south towards Olmeto. Ettori bad been in the maquis since 1926, which was encouraging for a man like me. He Was considered the prototype of the bandit > jof honour. He had killed more thau once, ? including gendarmes, but he had never itolen a cent. Another, Felix Michaelb, held the country at Prumelli-di-Fium* Orbo. f? inn the east coast. A bandit of honour, too. In spite of his numerous murders. And there were others there of less l-epute,’ but • of similar kind, who felt- no repugnance; about spilling blood, but to. whom come by dishonestly disgusted. Ajf fa* as these men were concerned, except for an attempt made against them from time to time, always without provocation, the maquis was comparatively calm. Then, all of a sudden, some new bandits; arrived. Francois Caviglioli, the brother of my first wife, Marie; Joseph Bartoli, a chauffeur from Ajaccio who--had gone to the bad: Perfettini, a Marseilles hooligan, , who had no place in the' maquis at all; Antonelli, who wished to go ahead and began to hold to rausom; Bornea, an exgendarme; Predali and others. Moi, Spada, I am a bandit. Therefore I have not the right to judge other ban- ' dits. All the same, I am justified in publishing my opinion on these;-whose extreme activities provoked the sending of this police expedition, which has caused me suffering and is still causing me suffering, inasmuch as I know that it was not against me that it was organised; that if the maquis had slreltered only men like Ettori, . MichaellL and me that army of mobile police would never have landed in the • island. And then, as far as Francois Caviglioli is concerned, it is very necessary that I should explain the false rumours which have circulated about the relations which existed between Francois and me. I had known Francois for many years. At Lopignia our families often spent the evening together. I knew that Francois bad seen his sister. Marie, after the unfortunate incident at Poggio-di-Mezzana, and that this woman, full of hatred against me, had done her best to kill the old friendship between Francois and myself,- without any success for tlie time being. It is not then, as had been said, because I had trouble with Marie Caviglioli that I was annoyed with her brother Francois. Our enmity came into being later, several years after that bloody busiuess in the North. Brother-in-law’s Fatal Fault. Francois had one fault, which he retained right up to the hour of his death. Indeed it may be said that it is because of that fault that he died. He was too fond of drink. He was often in the cafe, in good or bad company. One day, in October, 1927, he was in a bar in Ajaccio in the Cours Napoleon, and-all at once a quarrel broke out for no reason at all. -without motive, or at least without serious motive, like that which happened to us. And the quarrel took a bad turn. Firing broke out from all sides. More than 60 shots were fired. The wounded sank down crying. One man let but several hoarse groans and lay still, his arms crossed. He was dead. It was Felix Caviglioli, Francois’ brother. Francois, of course, had not left his weapon in his pocket. He had emptied one or two strips himself and hjs bullets'.Had made holes in one or two skins. Se££defence, perfectly lawful, since he had been shot at first? Of course; but all the same he preferred not to have an interview with the police, and he took refuge in the maquis. Poor fellow, he suffered there, to start with, in the maquis. He had none of the makings of a true bandit. Misery and he were inseparable companions, and to see him dragging his feet, his face pinched with hunger and his clothes in rags, one would have taken him for a beggar mbre than an outlaw. In fact he was hardly regarded as an outlaw and the police left him comparatively quiet. He lay out in the Liam one and in the Canton of Vico. Everybody knew him. If it had not pleased him to take hia bandit role seriously, and he had not hidden from everyone, his misery would have been less, because people would have helped him; Several people advised him to give himself up. What was he risking? A little time in prison at the outside. Almost certainly a not proven or an acquittal. But his sister—one can see for what reasons—was not displeased to have a brother in the maquis. It was sLc and hex- friends who advised

Francois to continue to keep to the country. And the poor, fool listened to .this bad advice, and he femained in the maquis. and in his misery. ■ V - Well, he was* sentenced. In ajpfeenee of course, and they made a show of' looking' for him. When I say that they made a show, 1 am not joking. Just like Marie Caviglioli, the gendarmes were pleased to . have Francois in the maquis. You see" the point? To destroy a bandit, what better than another bandit? That dream the gendarmerie had brought to realisation more than once. Some troublesome persons had disappeared, thanks to Ettori, thanks to Mieh&elli. Perhaps Spada, too, would disappear,.-thanks to Caviglioli? However, I add with pleasure- and en passant* that the gendarmerie newer realised it, that dgeajft. - t .; One day, in tHe" depths of his misery, Francois-* came to f|nd me. “Andre,” he cried to aie, J'help me.” And at the same

time lie explained his reasons in cotinng “Yesterday evening, I was in the Cafe Paoli at AmbieZna. Two gendarmes came in and recognised njfe. They called on me to. surrender. I made a sho\V of agreeing , and i profited 4 by the 1 confidence of the gbndarmes to shoot downy on them with my revolver. L wounded one of them. And I succeeded, in saving, myself in the, 'night ih spite of "the shower of bullets • which they sent off after me and which all missed me.** It was a serious matter. I did not need to think long over it. Of course, I knew what Marie Cay.iglioli’s,dream was. I knew the gendarmes’ dream. But I had confidence in Francois. And then this affair with the gendarmes, all the same A Good Deed Unrewarded. “It’s a bad business for you, Francois,” I said to Him. “To start with, you should not have come to the maquis for such a trifle. When one is free one wants to remain free. Then, when your head was in no manner of danger, you should not have aggravated your case by tiring on the gendarmes. However, what is done is done, and it’s no use crying over spilt milk. You had better stay with me and keep quiet.” He was quiet at once. I did all that I could to fielp him. He was able to dress himself decently. He was able to eat when he was hungry, at a table, abundant if simple. He had his big share in ray hamper, in the maquis, at times when it was not prudent to wish to eat at table. At last lie was as happy as a man could be in his condition. Good fortune is like bad fortune. It is not a normal state. You don’t want too much of it. Caviglioli, after being too unhappy, was now too happy. He began to be guilty of betiscs (follies). In spite of all i could do, he drank more often than he should, and when he drank he talked too much. A dispute began between us. I reproached him for having too big a tongue. I told him that if he went on I would- cut it out. At the end of my patience, I chased him out' and warned him not to come back into my area. He went of course, but afterwards he disobeyed niy orders. He returned to the region of Lopignia, which did not please me, and then, one day, I learned that he had had the audacity to demand money, of a small proprietor in my name. Then I -was seriously annoyed and I decided • to correct him in such «a manner that he would have no inclination to resume such activities. It did not take long. Deprived of my company, Francois Caviglioli committed imprudence, after imprudence. Mastered by his desire' for alcohol, he made anybody ’he came across pay hjs drink. One day news came to me that lie was at Lopignia for the night and that meantime, following his usual custom, he was emptying glass after glass in a tavern. I was not far from the village. Ip half an hour I was at the door of the tavern. I threw it open. Francois was sitting in front of a half empty glass. I struck him with my gut), shouting: ‘■‘That’s for you, traitor apd blackmailer!” And I fired 4t a range of not more than three metres. After that I went. Late/- I learned that the other people had remained motionless for a moment, deafened by the explosion. And then they had sprung to their feet and flung themselves down by Francois, who had received the charge of shot right in the face and whose jawbone had been fractured and his tongue cut, just as I had promised him’. Any other man would have died of it, because of the gravity of the wound, the copious loss of blood and delay in receiving medical attention. But the Corsican peasant is tough. He can stand a iot. It was at Ajaccio . too, whither he was secretly carried, that he

recovered. And later when he was well agahi lie returned to the maquis. lie passed close to me a few days after his return, and I could watch him quite comfortably without his seeing me. He had lot his beard grow to hide his wound. With his blinded eye and his crooked jaw, poor Francois had an ill-looking countenance certainly. We weye enemies. The 'gendarmerie once more'was trying to get .me killed by my old cumpa. Police Plot With Caviglioli. ! For a long time—und I defy anybody to prove the conirdry—the gendarmerie made common c-aursc with Francois Cavjglioli to encompass my destruction. Then while I lived in the mountains with all the needful and discretion, Francois was living qinth- openly and walking every day on the coast road near Sagone. All that time he could have been arrested 100 times a (lay. He did not hide. He went where he liked and gave himself the more easily to drink. Any traveller who journeyed, in that region, Sagone, Tiuc-cia, Cargene. ,Vico, will find people to say that they have seen gendarmes breaking bi'ead with hifn. quite peaceably, with Francois Caviglioli the bandit, 3'os, and paying the reckoning, too. It was not secret that Cayjglioli had sworn to kill «ne on behalf of the' gendarmes. If be had succeeded the gendarme's would have said, “We have settled the business.” And they would have received congratulations. But, in his heart Caviglioli was making mock oP>,the bandits. He didn’t like then)He >.was always talking of killing me v .but hits guns did not crack often. On the Mother -&«tnd, he made fools of the gendarmes. One day near Gargene, he trapped two. of them on the road and. to amuse himself, made them strip and gave them a thrashing, after which he kept them, prisoners ’all night and sent them back to the barracks next morning all trembling. The funny thing is that the gendarmes did not want him for it. They did not hate him 4s they hated -me. When GenLem oine and Riellan tried to capture him irij a;-eafe at Sagone—always at the drink—They attempted to take him alive instead' of filing on him as they would have done, ojo one in like case. Only Francois wasn’t having any. He struck back and made/gopd. .bis escape after wounding both the gendarmes.

When I heard of the matter I was disturbed. Caviglioli’e activities, although they were outside my area, were complicating my life and compelling me to take additional pi'ecautions, since liis area was (To be Continued.) The municipality of Liegnitz has decided to deal severely with local drunkards. Anybody convicted more than once of being drunk and disorderly is to be confined for a while in a workhouse, where he will receive wages in goods instead of cash. If this treatment fails the offender will be registered in local inns as ; a confirmed drunkard to whom liquor must on no account be served. In case the landlord, to whom all offenders will be introduced, has no memory for faces, a photograph of the registered drunkard is to be kept behind the bar.