The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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a month’s salary in advance so he could have the necessary cash to enjoy himself 
properly. 
That vacation was Neri’s first taste of luxury. People at the hotel took special care of 
him, saying, “Ah, you’re a friend of Michael Corleone.” The word had been passed 
along. He was given one of the plush suites, not the grudging small room a poor relation 
might be fobbed off with. The man running the nightclub in the hotel fixed him up with 
some beautiful girls. When Neri got back to New York he had a slightly different view on 
life in general. 
He was put in the Clemenza regime and tested carefully by that masterful personnel 
man. Certain precautions had to be taken. He had, after all, once been a policeman. But 
Neri’s natural ferocity overcame whatever scruples he might have had at being on the 
other side of the fence. In less than a year he had “made his bones.” He could never 
turn back. 
Clemenza sang his praises. Neri was a wonder, the new Luca Brasi. He would be better 
than Luca, Clemenza bragged. After all, Neri was his discovery. Physically the man was 
a marvel. His reflexes and coordination such that he could have been another Joe 
DiMaggio. Clemenza also knew that Neri was not a man to be controlled by someone 
like himself. Neri was made directly responsible to Michael Corleone, with Tom Hagen 
as the necessary buffer. He was a “special” and as such commanded a high salary but 
did not have his own living, a bookmaking or strong-arm operation. It was obvious that 
his respect for Michael Corleone was enormous and one day Hagen said jokingly to 
Michael, “Well now you’ve got your Luca.” 
Michael nodded. He had brought it off. Albert Neri was his man to the death. And of 
course it was a trick learned from the Don himself. While learning the business, 
undergoing the long days of tutelage by his father, Michael had one time asked, “How 
come you used a guy like Luca Brasi? An animal like that?” 
The Don had proceeded to instruct him. “There are men in this world,” he said, “who go 
about demanding to be killed. You must have noticed them. They quarrel in gambling 
games, they jump out of their automobiles in a rage if someone so much as scratches 
their fender, they humiliate and bully people whose capabilities they do not know. I have 
seen a man, a fool, deliberately infuriate a group of dangerous men, and he himself 
without any resources. These are people who wander through the world shouting, ‘Kill 
me. Kill me.’ And there is always somebody ready to oblige them. We read about it in 

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