The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
219
Bonasera trailed after him. The corpse was on one of the guttered tables. Don Corleone 
made a tiny gesture with his hat and the other men left the room. 
Bonasera whispered, “What do you wish me to do?” 
Don Corleone was staring at the table. “I want you to use all your powers, all your skill, 
as you love me,” he said. “I do not wish his mother to see him as he is.” He went to the 
table and drew down the gray blanket. Amerigo Bonasera against all his will, against all 
his years of training and experience, let out a gasp of horror. On the embalming able 
was the bullet-smashed face of Sonny Corleone. The left eye drowned in blood had a 
star fracture in its lens. The bridge of his nose and left cheekbone were hammered into 
Pulp. 
For one fraction of a second the Don put out his hand to support himself against 
Bonasera’s body. “See how they have massacred my son,” he said. 
Chapter 19 
Perhaps it was the stalemate that made Sonny Corleone embark on the bloody course 
of attrition that ended in his own death. Perhaps it was his dark violent nature given full 
rein. 
In any case, that spring and summer he mounts senseless raids on enemy auxiliaries. 
Tattaglia Family pimps were shot to death in Harlem, dock goons were massacred. 
Union officials who owed allegiance to the Five Families were warned to stay neutral, 
and when the Corleone bookmakers and shylocks were still barred from the docks, 
Sonny sent Clemenza and his regime to wreak havoc upon the long shore. 
This slaughter was senseless because it could not affect affect the outcome of the war. 
Sonny was a brilliant tactician and wears his brilliant victories. But what was needed 
was the strategical genius of Don Corleone. The whole thing degenerated into such a 
deadly guerrilla war that both sides found themselves losing a great deal of revenue and 
lives to no purpose. The Corleone Family was finally forced to close down some of its 
most profitable bookmaking stations, including the book given to son-in-law Carlo Rizzi 
for his living. Carlo took to drink and running with chorus girls and giving his wife Connie 
a hard time. Since his beating at the hands of Sonny he had not dared to hit his wife 
again but he had not slept with her. Connie had thrown herself at his feet and he had 
spurned her, as he thought, like a Roman, with exquisite patrician pleasure. He had 
sneered at her, “Go call your brother and tell him I won’t screw you, maybe he’ll beat me 
up until I get a hard on.” 

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