Italian Prince Battles Gangster for Castle : History: Mt. Vesuvius palace is crumbling while a former Mafia kingpin is jailed. A descendant of the Florentine dynasty that built it is trying to buy it back and restore it.

On the slopes of Mt. Vesuvius, a once-glittering Medici palace bears sad witness to the Mafia’s relentless grip over the impoverished hinterland of Naples.

Its present owner: Raffaele Cutolo, Italy’s most notorious gangster, now languishing in prison.

Fighting to rescue and restore the decaying palace: Prince Giovan Battista de Medici, descendant of the Florentine dynasty that built it in the 16th Century.

“Cutolo is ready to see it fall apart brick by brick. That’s the way his kind thinks,” said the prince, who is spearheading the battle for the palace in dirt-poor Ottaviano, the gangster’s hometown.

“For him, buying the palace was an attempt at getting the title of prince, the climax of his career.”

Prince Giovan is a dapper, 52-year-old professor of engineering.

His foe, Don Raffaele, 49, is the former head of the Naples Mafia, now serving six life sentences for ordering as many murders--including that of his prison’s deputy governor.

In court, the don, nicknamed “O Professor” (the professor), postured as a folk hero--an elegant man of honor, poet, philosopher and Robin Hood rolled into one.

He bought the palace, owned by Prince Giovan’s family until the 1930s, for 270 million lire (now worth $215,000) in 1979, making the purchase from jail through intermediaries.

Italian law allows the state to seize the property of convicted Mafia figures.

But in Don Raffaele’s case, the law is moving slowly. So slowly that Prince Giovan and many locals believe the gangster, even from behind bars, is once again flexing his muscles.

Built higher up the volcanic slopes to overlook Ottaviano, the 67-room palace was already in disrepair before Cutolo bought it. Today, it is an even sorrier sight.

Bushes sprout from the roof, which has fallen in in several places.

Officially, the edifice is locked up, but along a tangled path the front gates gape open.

Someone has scrawled “Cutolo” in white chalk on the red gates.

Not even the peeling frescoes in the first-floor bedrooms have been spared the graffiti mania. “Maria I Love You” says one written under a plump cherub. Half the child’s face is missing. The wall is full of holes.

Rubble and broken glass litter the empty rooms, and canvas hangs in shreds from the ceilings.

“Cutolo still has enormous power. The people of Ottaviano are in a state of panic,” said local painter Michele Arpaia, who remembers the gangster as an altar boy.

“He is putting pressure on the authorities not to let go.”

It was under Cutolo that the Camorra, the Naples version of Sicily’s Mafia, expanded its empire. It grew from extortion and cigarette smuggling into drugs and public-sector contracts won through political influence.

Arpaia, who with Prince Giovan is trying to prod the authorities into action, said they have yet to name a guardian for the palace. Local residents want to entrust it to the town hall, restore it and turn it into a museum.

But for the time being, the only people using the palace are Cutolo’s acolytes who, police say, hold meetings in its cavernous halls.