The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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it apart, it was strewn around the cement basement floor. Their leader, an authoritative 
man, said to the Don in a gruff voice, “Your furnace is in lousy shape. If you want us to 
fix it and put it together again, it’ll cost you one hundred fifty dollars for labor and parts 
and then we’ll pass you for county inspection.” He took out a red paper label. “We stamp 
this seal on it, see, then nobody from the county bothers you again.” 
The Don was amused. It had been a boring, quiet week in which he had had to neglect 
his business to take care of such family details moving to a new house entailed. In more 
broken English than his usual slight accent he asked, “If I don’t pay you, what happens 
to my furnace?” 
The leader of the three men shrugged. “We just leave the furnace the way it is now.” He 
gestured at the metal parts strewn over the floor. 
The Don said meekly, “Wait, I’ll get you your money.” Then he went out into the garden 
and said to Sonny, “Listen, there’s some men working on the furnace, I don’t understand 
what they want. Go in and take care of the matter.” It was not simply a joke; he was 
considering making his son his underboss. This was one of the tests a business 
executive had to pass. 
Sonny’s solution did not altogether please his father. It was too direct, too lacking in 
Sicilian subtleness. He was the Club, not the Rapier. For as soon as Sonny heard the 
leader’s demand he held the three men at gunpoint and had them thoroughly 
bastinadoed by the bodyguards. Then he made them put the furnace together again and 
tidy up the basement. He searched them and found that they actually were employed by 
a house-improvement firm with headquarters in Suffolk County. He learned the name of 
the man who owned the firm. Then he kicked the three men to their truck. “Don’t let me 
see you in Long Beach again,” he told them. “I’ll have your balls hanging from your 
ears.” 
It was typical of the young Santino, before he became older and crueler, that he 
extended his protection to the community he lived in. Sonny paid a personal call to the 
home-improvement firm owner and told him not to send any of his men into the Long 
Beach area ever again. As soon as the Corleone Family set up their usual business 
liaison with the local police force they were informed of all such complaints and all 
crimes by professional criminals. In less than a year Long Beach became the most 
crime-free town of its size in the United States. Professional stickup artists and 
strong-arms received one warning not to ply their trade in the town. They were allowed 

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