Mark Iacono strolls through Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, at a regal pace, knowing few will allow him to pass without a handshake or a loving mention of his grandmother the cook or his grandfather the pawnbroker.

Aunt Marie — her name is Marie Gambardella, and she is not a relative; it’s just what everyone calls her — catches him as she leaves her job as a receptionist at the 76th Precinct. He’s well regarded here, liked by the cops who used to give him five bucks for standing in a lineup. “I’ve known him since he was a baby,” Aunt Marie proudly points out.

Vincent Raccuglia, of Raccuglia & Son Funeral Home, says: “His family’s an institution. Good Catholic people.”

Mr. Iacono is 48 but looks younger. In the old days, he explains, everyone in the neighborhood was a gangster, a drug addict, a dockworker or (this is where he comes in) an athlete. He declares confidently that he was the best center fielder on the local softball teams, the ones sponsored by Foro Marble, Marco Polo Ristorante and other local businesses.