The Basil War of DiSalvo and DiNatale

By Alex McComas

The air was tight as the two grave Italians, glaring capo to capo, carefully chose their words. “I know you have the basil,” Paul declared, leader of the DiSalvo family here at Gettysburg. Sebastian of the DiNatale family, easily the more notorious name on campus, carefully replied, “I don’t have it… But I know who does.” These grave circumstances marked the climax of the treacherous Basil War.

Just two hours before, DiSalvo had emerged from his room to report a terrible misdeed; his prized possession, a thriving shoot of basil, the very symbol of the DiSalvo family honor, had disappeared. The first accusation made was a daring one. Turning to all witnesses in the hall at that fateful hour, DiSalvo accused, “It was Sebastian. Sebastian stole my basil!”

Paul DiSalvo had begun his rise to Italian power some time before this point as, on the day of the activities fair, Sebastian DiNatale declared him, effectively, vice president of his small student mafia, The Italian Club. As part of the pact, sprouts of basil where ‘obtained’ to seal the deal. Said stems of basil where to be used in the peaceable operation of cooking an Italian dinner, but things turned awry. It seemed that the peace forged by DiSalvo and DiNatale’s co leadership could only last so long.

DiNatale, unable to keep his own sprig of basil alive, had hidden away this shame from the public. However, his up and coming apprentice was doing exceptionally better in this mission, evidenced by his own basil not only surviving after 2 or more weeks in a water bottle, but also by the roots it had now sprouted. The DiNatale shame was not hidden for long as DiSalvo boldly proclaimed to the masses this compromising truth. It seemed that DiSalvo was not only going to try and usurp leadership of the business, but denounce the powerful and fearsome name of DiNatale as well. The latter had no comments at that time. Yet it is obvious now that, in true Italian fashion, he was instead planning a most terrible assault on the family DiSalvo.

Waiting for DiNatale to return for questioning, DiSalvo left an ominous note on DiNatale’s door to return the hostage basil plant, threatening that if it were not returned, Capo DiNatale would be “sleeping with the fishes.” What came next was the gravest insult DiSalvo could give – signing his first name to the note, DiSalvo added spitefully: “Capo di tutti capi,” essentially, “Boss of all bosses.” To seal the threat, a picture of a horse-head was slid under the door. When DiNatale returned to behold these offenses, the air was ripe with mottled words and curses.

“Capo di tutti capi? No! No! I’ll give you capo di tutti capi! Besides, I don’t have it!” Onlookers watched as the two men stood silently watching each other for the next move. DiSalvo, with a wry smirk upon his lips, would only calmly insist, “Where is it? I know you have it.”

In short, the horse-head was discovered and regarded with repulsion. The battle continued behind hushed doors, at this point, in an attempt to escape further media interest. Trying to make quick peace of the situation and throw the blame from himself, DiNatale promised an arrangement that the mysterious marauder, whom he insisted had committed the crime, would return the basil plant outside DiSalvo’s door in 10 minutes. At the arranged time, the basil was indeed returned in good condition from an innocent (and confused) bystander. DiSalvo would not be so easily appeased.

The final confrontation beget the truth. DiNatale in frustration finally admitted his wrong doing. He had, indeed, stolen the plant of basil from DiSalvo’s room, perhaps jealous of the successful Italian. The Basil War, it seemed, could come to an end. DiSalvo left in disgust, but gave his forgiveness.

Yet, as he returned to his room where a small group of his followers waited, he muttered his vendetta; “This isn’t over. I’m going to get back at Sebastian for this. Just watch.”