CHAPTER 4

Early in the 1970s, Vitro Matic, an Albanian Muslim butcher from Montenegro, immigrated to the United States. He drove a taxi all day and all night. He was married and had numerous wives, ex-wife, and girlfriends who were all concealed around New York. He was small and stocky, powerful and animated, and only had a few wisps of hair below each ear. His skull was substantially bald in the middle. Despite his calm demeanor, he was a man of unstable temperament. He did not always intend to be a violent man, though. He had a spring-like gait and had a deep, smooth, liquid baritone that attracted different degrees of attention from individuals. Without turning around to see who was speaking, you couldn't hear him.

He had animal tendencies that he had battled to control all his life. Although he was a sexual pervert, he almost always suppressed that trait and infrequently let it come to the fore. He had an ethereal air of sexual energy about him. He was irresistible because he was a sexually active man who was virtually a stallion. Or perhaps, women became captivated and attracted. Women adored him, and he liked them in a sensual way. In fact, a man like Vitro didn't choose to be the womanizer he was; rather, it just became who he was. Women desired him more and wanted to possess him more the more they knew about him, which was the issue. Vitro was not a possessive person. He was much too dangerous to be devotedly loved. He would do anything to obtain his freedom because he needed it.

Additionally, the way his eyes rolled in their sockets had an almost infantile innocence that made anyone want to entrust him with their lives. Nobody, living or dead, had ever turned down a favor from Vitro.

Vitro drove 18 hours a day, six days a week to pay his bills and support his family. He did this while sitting on a thick cushion for comfort and to give himself a competitive edge: to improve his capacity for quick thinking. Like most other cab drivers, Vitro began his career in New York. His initial goal was to earn enough money to launch his own taxi service, acquire a fleet of cabs, and obtain medallions. He was therefore determined to put an end to any and all other desires or endeavors that would compromise this goal. Many people were unaware that operating a taxicab was a very risky job that might turn a saint into a beast or a beast into a monster. His three-day course comprised geography, a written exam, a defensive driving lesson, and a drug test. He also spoke English fluently.

He began with the Checker and Yellow taxis. Vitro saw it all while operating a cab in New York. In his taxi, he had witnessed people getting married, getting divorced, throwing up, fighting with their partners, and breaking up and moving on. Numerous significant individuals had sat in his car, and numerous elderly women had made advances. He had the honor of hearing things he wasn't supposed to and didn't want to hear. He had witnessed hardcore intercourse in the backseat and witnessed youngsters, girls, old men, and ladies masturbating.

Vitro commenced employment at Yellow Cab Company. Instead of a commission program, the Yellow Cab Company offered a lease program. The day-long taxi lease was part of the initiative. For instance, you spent $50.00 total, including gas. Gas cost around a dollar and some cents at the time, but it still built up. If you earned more than $50, it was all yours; if not, you owed the business money.

Generally speaking, the commission program involved sharing your gains with the business. Working on commission had the benefit that gas was covered by the employer. Working on commission also allowed you to bring the taxicab in and go home if it was a dull night.

Vitro's first day of employment was a night shift. He worked for 12 hours, yet his daily take was only $12! Even though his wife was appalled, he persisted. He liked his work and saw huge promise in it. A few days later, he made $50.00. He was fortunate to have a lengthy journey to Englewood. A good-natured consumer would be contented because at least his routine had changed. This one was unique in a way, and he liked the winding country roads.

He then discovered the best place to wait for calls. Grocery calls were the worst jobs he'd ever had. He had to load baggage for the passengers into his taxi. When they arrived, he had to assist with carrying their luggage, occasionally climbing a flight of steps, and by the way, for a few tips! He recalled a client who left him a cent tip. Yes, they tallied up with a couple of dollars here and there—possibly four—but it was not an easy job.

Overall, tips were excellent. Working at the airport, he received several generous gratuities. Tips like this would see him through on a sluggish day. He occasionally received a tip of $20 or $30. Gas was very affordable at the time, which was in the late 1970s.

As a cab driver, you risk getting carried away and letting your guard down. When it was time to pay, some passengers who had taken cabs fled. Additionally, there was a chance of getting shot. The chest of Vitro's closest friend was stabbed. He managed to live, but it took him a long time to heal after surgery, and a lengthy recuperation. Accidents were a possibility, too. Vitro had been through it all.

When you were in an accident, the business had a deductible that you had to pay. On a winter night, he skidded and hit the side of the fender. He received a deduction of roughly $305.00 as a result of that incident.

He picked up three children from Times Square after only three weeks in the business. They were quite dubious, and Vitro worried that he may be robbed. In any case, he didn't want to throw them out of the cab. They desired visiting the Bronx. In the hopes of being stopped by a police cruiser, he ran red lights. Four paddy vehicles stopped him as he crossed the Madison Avenue Bridge and frisked the children. All three of them had a large collection of stolen trinkets, and two of them carried sharp knives.

A man once approached him while he was at the Plaza Hotel. He could only smell money. "To Monticello!" he bawled. He was going to a couple races there. He was a horse owner. They talked about the horse race as they were moving. Fortunately, Vitro had enough cash on hand from the previous day's work to wager $150 on his horse, which triumphed. Since it was a favorite, he only took home $100. He never revealed what he had done, but he was aware that the man was overjoyed because he had been informed that the horse had made over $2 million. In the end, the man gave him $700. Three days of work wouldn't have given him that much.

Something happened in the course of his work that changed his life forever. He was putting in his hours while working nights. There wasn't much money made, and it was a long and arduous night. He picked up two women at a supermarket. He confronted them just as they were about to escape without paying. They informed him that he would receive payment from someone else.

He then noticed a smartly dressed man limping in his direction with one hand in his pockets. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with brown corduroy pants, a white shirt, and a bowtie. He enquired as to the fare's cost. He told him. He made as if to remove the cash from his pocket, but instead, a gleaming .38 Super leaped into his hand. He made two shots before leaving. Despite wearing a heavy coat, Vitro's shoulder stung and the cab's windshield shattered, and blood rapidly drenched his arm.

He was taken to hospital by the paramedics. One of his arteries and a bone were just barely missed by the bullet. He had been severely damaged and traumatized. His involvement in a domestic conflict was announced on television. Vitro's life as a person and as a cab driver was irrevocably altered by this entire occurrence. His pregnant wife had a nervous breakdown and miscarried the child.

He quickly acclimatized, overcame his worries, and resumed his career as a cab driver.

On a Thursday afternoon shortly after 14.00 hours, Vitro sped through the Midtown Tunnel toward Manhattan while holding the steering wheel firmly in both hands.

As he turned left into East 77th Street, proceeded down Lexington, turned left onto East 54th, and returned up Third Avenue, he scanned the sidewalks for fare. He repeated this loop. After 30 minutes, he was still looking for his first fare. Driving in circles to begin your shift while the backseat was empty was never a good indication.

Did the man on suit on the corner across the street raise his hand? At Third Avenue and 59th Street, Vitro stopped. Two minutes after sliding into the backseat, the fare got out at 69th Third.

Cab drivers with experience realized that you couldn't wait for hails. Vitro saw two young women standing on Lexington and watching the approaching vehicles. He paused even though neither woman had her arm raised. He would frequently remark, "This is the art of the job, to find out who will need you." His instinct was accurate. The Upper West Side was where the females wanted to go. They gave him $13 for the ride and $2 for tips when they alighted at 108th Broadway.

More than only customers and fare are factors that affect the take-home compensation of cab drivers. The uncommon driver is the owner of his own taxi and medallion. Many drivers own neither, while others simply own the cab. A man who owns three medallion-equipped taxis hired Vitro. Given that the man worked two shifts, he was paid $800 each week.

Every taxi's hood is covered with a four by five-inch piece of tin that converts a regular yellow automobile into a vehicle with a passenger pickup permit. On the open market, a medallion can fetch hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Vitro estimated that he earned about $30,000 last year. "I only made $1,500 in one month," he admitted. "Because of car expenses, I only made $2,000 in the previous month. That wasn't a lot, really." Vitro was in a far better position now than he had been ten years before, when he had first started driving, though. He was at the bottom of the food chain for cabbies back then. Back then, cars that were going nowhere were always provided by the Yellow and Checker cab companies, he claimed. "You don't have a tire, and you're in the middle of the street." 

He needed to work shifts for $200 just to make ends meet. Additionally, he could always end up stranded at the wheel of a cab that smelled of gas, coffee, food, pee, or vomit. "It's your call, Vitro said. "A stench-filled taxi will always ruin you." The only way to guarantee that you got a good cab was to put some cash in the dispatcher's hand. Now that he had a permanent cab, he was careful to retain it in immaculate condition. "Happy clients mean good tips," he noted. "To ruin your day, just get into a smelly cab."

A tourist couple with a crying baby who wanted to go to a restaurant on the Upper East Side; a middle-aged man who needed to see someone at Monster Sushi in midtown; and a frazzled woman who was running late to meet her friends in the meatpacking district were just a few of the passengers Vitro had been picking up nonstop. Vitro intended to continue driving until eight o'clock, when he anticipated that fares would become considerably more difficult to come by. This lull would continue until around 9 p.m., when potential customers started looking for a ride home. By that time, most people would have arrived at their destinations, whether they were restaurants, clubs, or theaters. Vitro finally gave up after deciding he couldn't take it any longer and guided his taxi into the McDonald's parking lot at 34th Street and Tenth Avenue.

Evidently, several dozen other cab drivers had the same thought. There was not a single available space in this parking lot due to the overwhelming number of taxi cabs. He eventually did locate a place, but as he was squeezing into it, another cab driver took it.

Vitro hurried to the backseat, opened his door, and pulled out his nightstick. "Listen. I found this spot while I was here," he remarked. Waiting is okay.

The second driver remarked, "I've been waiting for ten minutes."

'No, No, No!' Vitro bellowed, swung the stick, and hit the cab driver's head. "What makes you lie?"

Evidently, the cabbie didn't feel like getting into a brawl. He instantly backed his cab out of the space. To have a fellow cabbie stick it to him like this, especially when he had just driven for six hours straight and his bladder was on the verge of bursting, was one thing; it was quite another to put up with the traffic jam that had him moving slowly down Fifth Avenue.

A drunken man jumped on the backseat in Manhattan and said he wasn't going to pay. The Bronx was his destination. Vitro devised a strategy. He turned the heat up and shut all the windows in the cab. Minutes afterwards, the passenger dozed off. The issue was communicated to the policeman by Vitro. To the Vitro's utter amazement, the officer offered to follow them. When they arrived, Vitro awakened his guest, who tried to exit the vehicle without paying.

The cop pulled him over. Did I forget to pay? The passenger inquired. The man paid his fare in full, and when the machine asked for a tip, the man entered his PIN number after taking out a credit card and swiping it through.

The final price was $100 for the fare plus a $15 tip. The officer said, "Enjoy your tip."

As he traveled from Williamsburg to Jackson Heights on the BQE at 12.30 a.m., Vitro accelerated past 60 miles per hour for the first time that night. He had a couple in the backseat who smelled alcohol. They started having sex the moment Vitro stepped on the gas pedal. After waiting for them a bit, Vitro stopped the car, raced to the backseat, beat them until they were bloody, dragged them outside the vehicle nude, and then sped off.

Next, he picked up a drunken sailor going to the naval base. "Arrest him, he's a communist!" Vitro yelled to the security guard when they arrived. This occurred during the nefarious Soviet Empire and the Reagan era. The guard realized he was drunk. In the scuffle that ensued, he dropped a wad of $20 notes that were bunched up. Vitro picked it up, grinned and pocketed the money.

On one occasion, he was operating his taxi close to Central Park when a pedestrian suddenly began banging on the top of his vehicle. In the broad daylight traffic, Vitro silently exited the vehicle, grabbed his nightstick from the backseat, and began buffeting the individual, left, right and center. The case ended in court.

Once, on a Friday night, he picked up four uncouth ghetto individuals from Times Square. As soon as they took off, the man seated in the front of the vehicle started eating his McDonald's. Since his beverage was without a straw, he removed the cup's cover and began drinking. It was splashing and gushing all over the place. Additionally, everywhere started to smell like oil and fast food. He was urged to wait till he arrived home by Vitro. Then the man pulled the "black card" on him, claiming that the only reason he objected was because he was black. The only reason, according to Vitro, was that it was soiling the area and he wouldn't have time to clean it up. Vitro stopped his vehicle and ordered the two men to get out. The girls insisted that they couldn't get another cab and that they should stay. It is true that ghetto residents had difficulty finding a cab, especially during peak times. Nobody wanted to interact with them, not because of their color, but because some of them weren't looking respectable, and didn't respect themselves.

He continued working with the girls in the interim. He questioned them if anyone had puked after overhearing puking sounds at a red light. Everything was OK, they claimed. He then heard it once more. Then he stopped to inspect the backseat. The backseat's floor was covered in vomit. The females responded that when they entered, the vomit was already there. Vomit was all over her clothes. At this moment, Vitro severely beat the girls and forced them out of the taxi after they had lied to him. Would he have reacted differently if the puking and lying had been committed by a white girl?

He picked up a man at TriBeCa, and drove him all the way to Dyckman Street. There was a $40 fare. The man rushed out the door as soon as he arrived. Vitro was unwilling to waste his time by calling the police. He then began to return downtown. He saw an envelope the guy left in the backseat. 25 bucks was in it. The man's address was written on the envelope, which he located as soon as he pulled over. He immediately swung the car around and headed back to that address. After recognizing Vitro when the doorbell rang, the man rushed back inside. Vitro pursued him brandishing a gun. That day, the man paid him 80 dollars, and Vitro hung a sucker punch on his jaw that caused him to lose two teeth.

After driving her to Westchester, a large, desperate woman earnestly invited Vitro into her home and muttered, "Dude, I need your company tonight. Name your price. Whatever you desire. I've been searching for a man like you who is hot. Give me the remainder of your day. Vitro extended a beatific smile and accepted her invitation.

Vitro jokingly said, "Fifteen hundred."

"It's a deal," the buxom woman muttered. "I'll pay for your entire day. I simply wish you were as good as my suspicions suggest you are. If you are, I will retain and pay you, and you will have nothing to worry about. I have money."

Vitro said, "I might just be. The proof is in the pudding, as they say."

She then requested Vitro to take her to her family home. There, she placed an order for Chinese food for the two of them before they made their way back to the woman's residence. Vitro ended up staying with the woman three days without calling home to let anyone know where he was. Her name was Erica, Erica Haastrup.

Meeting Erica was like keeping an appointment with destiny. Through Erica, Vitro came to know five other wealthy women in her league, who even though had intimate relationships with Vitro, tried to keep it a top secret from the others, yet worked to possess Vitro and protect him from the others. Things came to a head and went topsy turvy when this web of relationships became the real business, cab driving a mere smokescreen, and it goes without saying, the entrance of Aleksa onto the stage.

When Vitro arrived home after three days, Aleksa erupted into hysteria, yelling and screaming, cursing, and knocking on all the metal doors of the house. She was acting with knowledge. Vitro had a short attention span and a strong aversion to noise. He was now in trouble. The amount of noise was deafening. As the cacophony increased, he groaned and covered his head under many pillows. She didn't stop. The yelling and hammering persisted and reached fever heat. Vitro started to wriggle about under the pillows as he trembled with wrath and profound dejection. The elasticity of his patience soon reached breaking points. He started to frantically thrash around in bed and growl like a lion. Then, standing up, he grinned uncertainly while baring his teeth. Then in one deft move, he seized his wife's throat, swept her up and flung her out the fifth-floor window with devastating brute force. Fortunately, she landed safely on the fourth-floor balcony. She managed to survive the mishap, but she miscarried again.

Following this incident, Aleksa filed for divorce.

Mary Jordan met Vitro for the first time in her life when the legal battle over who would get custody of their kid was in progress. The woman served as the court's interpreter and translator and was a fluent speaker of six languages. The two were divorced, but later made up.

She had never experienced a man with Vitro's level of control. Her body shuddered with the echo of his flowing baritone. She had never felt the way she did upon first meeting a man. Something akin happened to her with Robert, but not anything quite near this one. The enormous hole that had grown in her heart over the years seemed to have been filled by his mere presence alone, a filling so uncanny that the thin tendons holding her resistances together ruptured into fragments.

 * * *

In order to operate legally within the boundaries of the City of New York, cabs have to have a medallion permanently attached to the hood. Police officers or representatives of the governing body of the Taxi and Limousine Commission (TLC) have the authority to stop cabs operating without medallions, fine the drivers, or seize the vehicles. The medallions were strictly regulated since the TLC had to manage how many cabs were available to work in the city at any given moment. The total quantity of medallions in circulation was capped, even though medallions could be legally transferred. As a result, the medallion's worth frequently outweighed that of the cab to which it was affixed. The financial value of a taxi medallion frequently exceeded $150,000.00.

The two taxi cabs and medallions that Vitro had been renting—a 1984 Ford with the New York City medallion number 3N15 and a 1986 Ford with the New York City medallion number 6N80—were purchased on February 9, 1989, with the help of a loan in the sum of $250,000. The automobiles and the medallions served as collateral for the ten-year loan, which was arranged through the middle Village Credit Union.

He established Briarcliff Cab Corporation on February 20, 1987, in order to run a small fleet of taxi cabs in New York City. He rented two cabs from Mackic Hamdija using this firm. He operated one taxi from February 1987 to January 1989 and subleased a second taxi.

From March 1989 until September 1990, Vitro made monthly payments of $3,806.73 toward the loan.

He paid $60,000 in cash in June of 1989 to buy a single-family home at 220 East 201 Street in the Bronx, New York. Mary Jordan, a real estate agent, helped with the transaction. From June 1990 to September 1990, he resided in the home.

Vitro made the final loan payment on September 6, 1990. Due to Vitro's prolonged default on the debt, the Middle Village Credit Union started foreclosure proceedings against him on December 17, 1990.