Arts & Entertainment JEWISH BOOK FAIR Sandee Brawarsky Special to the Jewish News H M Farnil In Blood Relation, Eric Konigsberg explores the life and crimes of his hit-man great-uncle. - Wood Bed marts tiNe Goo.riptcb, 000 al .B- 1° wAw, 'tell; 3 i.e' eP ar1 a mg vo;ce." Fa.i.s new se gxed we Ca te,rifc You The Teraviv. Ikv Vial We Oa; ta tote., arold "Kayo" Konigsberg has been behind bars since 1963. He has served time in more than 15 prisons and is next up for parole in 2006, when he'll be 78. No one expects that this Jewish hit man from New Jersey — who freelanced for vari- ous Mafia families and is respon- sible for more than 20 murders — to be a free man again. Growing up in Nebraska, Eric Konigsberg never heard about his famous great-uncle. His parents never talked about him, and when he'd visit his grandparents in Bayonne, N.J., Harold was never mentioned. He first heard his name in 1985, while attending an Eastern boarding school. A groundskeeper at the school, a former New York City cop who had been on the mob beat, asked whether the name Kayo Konigsberg meant anything to him and explained who he was. The young Konigsberg tried bragging to his schoolmates but it didn't get him very far, so he soon forgot his relation. Ten years later, while working on a magazine story, a former detective asked if he was related to "the famous Konigsberg." His father then admitted, "That's my uncle Heshy" And then in 1997, Eric Konigsberg found a message on his voicemail from an unnamed person who promised a "very interesting conversation" when he called back. Harold Konigsberg, calling-from the Auburn Correctional Facility, a maximum- security prison in upstate New York, had seen his great-nephew's name in a magazine and realized there was a journalist in a family. When the two Konigsbergs spoke a few nights later, the uncle invited the journalist to visit. Blood Relation (HarperCollins; $25.95) is Eric Konigsberg's account of his uncle's life, gleaned from 10 visits to the Auburn facil- ity over three years, interviews with family members and also the families of his victims, and his examination of extensive court testimony and FBI records. More than a biography in crime, this powerful book is a nuanced view of Kayo in the context of his family, and the author's own reflections on coming to know and attempt- ing to understand his uncle. A Writer's Dream The book is a much-expanded version of a 2001 story that Konigsberg wrote for The New Yorker, with additional infor- mation about Harold's many criminal exploits and Konigsberg family history. Some have said that Konigsberg's experience is a Eric Konigsberg: "The funny thing about writer's dream: to discover that you have an uncle who's a blood is, you can't control how you feel about your relatives." Mafia hitman, willing to talk. In an interview with this ascended the organized-crime reporter at a café in downtown ladder swiftly, and largely by dint Manhattan near the Writers Room, where the 36-year old jour- of his violent reputation:' Konigsberg writes. nalist works, he explains that Born a generation after Meyer when he first met his relative Lanky, Kayo was active as a behind bars, he called him Uncle bookmaker, loan shark, thief and Heshy. But that felt too affection- hired killer in the 1940s, 1950s ate and intimate. He then called and 1960s. Overweight and bull- him Uncle Harold, but that also ish in strength, even in old age, he seemed too familial, so he was never one of those finely tai- switched to Harold, which is how lored dons who cared about flashy he refers to him in the book. clothing and well-made shoes. He The name Kayo came from a has always been more interested stint as a semi-pro boxer; it was in power than money. What he derived from K.O., for knockout. really enjoys is the knowledge that Harold's father, an Eastern he put something over on people European immigrant, found suc- — especially those who had some cess in the construction business, authority. selling a bit of bootleg slivovitz on In prison, he takes kosher food, the side. although he has a great fondness The author's grandfather Leo, for shrimp. He seems interested in who went on to run a large whole- family connections, always asking sale food business in his nephew about relatives, keep- Bayonne,was Harold's older ing track of the generations. He's brother; Leo was known to be so devoted to his two daughters and scrupulous about his reputation speaks of wanting to assure that that he wouldn't accept a cup of his grandson has a bar mitzvah coffee from any of his restaurant — once he gets out of prison. clients. When he was about to marry One of Harold's sisters told the his late wife, an Italian woman, he author that her brother was a sent an emissary to his brother gangster from the age of 5 on. He Leo and his wife to see if they was "an illiterate amid a family of were comfortable with his marry- studious children, a malevolently ing a Catholic. As Konigsberg wild creature in a house full of Sabbath keepers." When one sister reports, his grandparents could only laugh. "Every week, we're won the valedictorian award at reading about this arrest, that Bayonne High School, Harold arrest, and we should have a prob- stole her medal and hocked it at a lem him marrying outside of the pawnshop. faith?" his grandmother said. By the time he was 23, Harold was arrested 20 times — mostly for robberies and assaults. "He November 3.2005 al