Vito Corleone was a man with vision. All the great cities of America were being torn by

underworld strife (борьба, раздор). Guerrilla wars by the dozen flared up, ambitious

hoodlums trying to carve themselves a bit of empire; men like Corleone himself were

trying to keep their borders and rackets secure. Don Corleone saw that the newspapers

and government agencies were using these killings to get stricter and stricter laws, to

use harsher police methods. He foresaw that public indignation might even lead to a

suspension of democratic procedures which could be fatal to him and his people. His

own empire, internally, was secure. He decided to bring peace to all the warring factions

in New York City and then in the nation.

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He had no illusions about the dangerousness of his mission. He spent the first year

meeting with different chiefs of gangs in New York, laying the groundwork, sounding

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them out (to sound – зондировать, измерять глубину /лотом/; испытать), proposing

spheres of influence that would be honored by a loosely bound confederated council.

But there were too many factions, too many special interests that conflicted. Agreement

was impossible. Like other great rulers and lawgivers in history Don Corleone decided

that order and peace were impossible until the number of reigning states had been

reduced to a manageable number.

There were five or six "Families" too powerful to eliminate. But the rest, the

neighborhood Black Hand terrorists, the free-lance shylocks, the strong-arm

bookmakers operating without the proper, that is to say paid, protection of the legal

authorities, would have to go. And so he mounted what was in effect a colonial war

against these people and threw all the resources of the Corleone organization against

them.

The pacification of the New York area took three years and had some unexpected

rewards. At first it took the form of bad luck. A group of mad-dog Irish stickup (налет,

ограбление) artists the Don had marked for extermination (уничтожение) almost

carried the day (to carry the day – одержать победу) with sheer Emerald Isle йlan (с

чисто ирландским напором, стремительностью: йlan [eı’lα:ŋ] /франц./; Emerald Isle

= Ireland). By chance, and with suicidal bravery, one of these Irish gunmen pierced the

Don's protective cordon and put a shot into his chest. The assassin was immediately

riddled with bullets but the damage was done.

However this gave Santino Corleone his chance. With his father out of action, Sonny

took command of a troop, his own regime, with the rank of caporegime, and like a

young, untrumpeted (trumpet [‘trΛmpıt] – труба; to trumpet – трубить, возвещать,

восхвалять) Napoleon, showed a genius for city warfare. He also showed a merciless

ruthlessness, the lack of which had been Don Corleone's only fault as a conqueror.

From 1935 to 1937 Sonny Corleone made a reputation as the most cunning and

relentless executioner the underworld had yet known. Yet for sheer terror even he was

eclipsed by the awesome man named Luca Brasi.

It was Brasi who went after the rest of the Irish gunmen and single-handedly wiped

them out. It was Brasi, operating alone when one of the six powerful families tried to

interfere and become the protector of the independents, who assassinated the head of

the family as a warning. Shortly after, the Don recovered from his wound and made

peace with that particular family.

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By 1937 peace and harmony reigned in New York City except for minor incidents,

minor misunderstandings which were, of course, sometimes fatal.

As the rulers of ancient cities always kept an anxious eye on the barbarian tribes

roving around their walls, so Don Corleone kept an eye on the affairs of the world

outside his world. He noted the coming of Hitler, the fall of Spain, Germany's strong-

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arming of Britain at Munich. Unblinkered (незашоренный, неослепленный; blinkers –

наглазники, шоры) by that outside world, he saw clearly the coming global war and he

understood the implications. His own world would be more impregnable

(непрницаемый, неприступный) than before. Not only that, fortunes could be made in

time of war by alert, foresighted folk. But to do so peace must reign in his domain while

war raged in the world outside.

Don Corleone carried his message through the United States. He conferred with

compatriots in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Cleveland, Chicago, Philadelphia, Miami,

and Boston. He was the underworld apostle of peace and, by 1939, more successful

than any Pope, he had achieved a working agreement amongst the most powerful

underworld organizations in the country. Like the Constitution of the United States this

agreement respected fully the internal authority of each member in his state or city. The

agreement covered only spheres of influence and an agreement to enforce peace in the

underworld.

And so when World War II broke out in 1939, when the United States joined the

conflict in 1941, the world of Don Vito Corleone was at peace, in order, fully prepared to

reap the golden harvest on equal terms with all the other industries of a booming

America. The Corleone Family had a hand in supplying black-market OPA food stamps,

gasoline stamps, even travel priorities. It could help get war contracts and then help get

black-market materials for those garment center clothing firms who were not given

enough raw material because they did not have government contracts. He could even

get all the young men in his organization, those eligible (могущий быть избранным

['elıdG∂bl]) for Army draft (набор, призыв), excused from fighting in the foreign war. He

did this with the aid of doctors who advised what drugs had to be taken before physical

examination, or by placing the men in draft-exempt (exempt [ıg’zempt] –

освобожденный /от чего-либо/) positions in the war industries.

And so the Don could take pride in his rule. His world was safe for those who had

sworn loyalty to him; other men who believed in law and order were dying by the

millions. The only fly in the ointment (мазь, /здесь/ мирро /для помазания/) was that

his own son, Michael Corleone, refused to be helped, insisted on volunteering to serve

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his own country. And to the Don's astonishment, so did a few of his other young men in

the organization. One of the men, trying to explain this to his caporegime, said, "This

country has been good to me." Upon this story being relayed to the Don he said angrily

to the caporegime, "I have been good to him." It might have gone badly for these people

but, as he had excused his son Michael, so must he excuse other young men who so

misunderstood their duty to their Don and to themselves.

At the end of World War II Don Corleone knew that again his world would have to

change its ways, that it would have to fit itself more snugly (snug – плотно лежащий,

прилегающий) into the ways of the other, larger world. He believed he could do this

with no loss of profit.

There was reason for this belief in his own experience. What had put him on the right

track were two personal affairs. Early in his career the then-young Nazorine, only a

baker's helper planning to get married, had come to him for assistance. He and his

future bride, a good Italian girl, had saved their money and had paid the enormous sum

of three hundred dollars to a wholesaler of furniture recommended to them. This

wholesaler had let them pick out everything they wanted to furnish their tenement

apartment. A fine sturdy (сильный, крепкий, здоровый) bedroom set with two bureaus

and lamps. Also the living room set of heavy stuffed sofa and stuffed armchairs, all

covered with rich gold-threaded fabric. Nazorine and his fiancйe (невеста /франц./

[fı'α:nseı]) had spent a happy day picking out what they wanted from the huge

warehouse crowded with furniture. The wholesaler took their money, their three hundred

dollars wrung from the sweat of their blood, and pocketed it and promised the furniture

to be delivered within the week to the already rented flat.

The very next week however, the firm had gone into bankruptcy. The great warehouse

stocked with furniture had been sealed shut and attached for payment of creditors. The

wholesaler had disappeared to give other creditors time to unleash their anger on the

empty air. Nazorine, one of these, went to his lawyer, who told him nothing could be

done until the case was settled in court and all creditors satisfied. This might take three

years and Nazorine would be lucky to get back ten cents on the dollar.

Vito Corleone listened to this story with amused disbelief. It was not possible that the

law could allow such thievery. The wholesaler owned his own palatial home, an estate

in Long Island, a luxurious automobile, and was sending his children to college. How

could he keep the three hundred dollars of the poor baker Nazorine and not give him

the furniture he had paid for? But, to make sure, Vito Corleone had Genco Abbandando

check it out with the lawyers who represented the Genco Pura company.

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64

They verified the story of Nazorine. The wholesaler had all his personal wealth in his

wife's name. His furniture business was incorporated and he was not personally liable

(ответственный). True, he had shown bad faith (вероломство) by taking the money of

Nazorine when he knew he was going to file (подать как-либо документ) bankruptcy

but this was a common practice. Under law there was nothing to be done.

Of course the matter was easily adjusted. Don Corleone sent his Consigliori, Genco

Abbandando, to speak to the wholesaler, and as was to be expected, that wide-awake

businessman caught the drift immediately and arranged for Nazorine to get his furniture.

But it was an interesting lesson for the young Vito Corleone.

The second incident had more far-reaching repercussions (repercussion – отдача

/после удара/; отзвук, эхо). In 1939, Don Corleone had decided to move his family out

of the city. Like any other parent he wanted his children to go to better schools and mix

with better companions. For his own personal reasons he wanted the anonymity of

surburban life where his reputation was not known. He bought the mall property in Long

Beach, which at that time had only four newly built houses but with plenty of room for

more. Sonny was formally engaged to Sandra and would soon marry, one of the houses

would be for him. One of the houses was for the Don. Another was for Genco

Abbandando and his family. The other was kept vacant at the time.

A week after the mall was occupied, a group of three workmen came in all innocence

with their truck. They claimed to be furnace (печь, топка ['f∂:nıs]) inspectors for the

town of Long Beach. One of the Don's young bodyguards let the men in and led them to

the furnace in the basement. The Don, his wife and Sonny were in the garden taking

their ease and enjoying the salty sea air.

Much to the Don's annoyance he was summoned into the house by his bodyguard.

The three workmen, all big burly fellows, were grouped around the furnace. They had

taken it apart, it was strewn around the cement basement floor. Their leader, an

authoritative man, said to the Don in a gruff (грубый, сердитый) 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

(to entail – влечь за собой). In more broken English than his usual slight accent he

asked, "If I don't pay you, what happens to my furnace?"

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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 (дубинка), 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 (приказал как следует отколотить; bastinado [bжstı’neıd∂u]– палочные

удары) 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."