New York, 1920. A young Vito Coreleone had just begun pulling off a few capers with his partners, Clemenza and Tessio. As he drives a truck filled with boosted dresses down the street, the neighborhood rep of the Black Hand, Don Fanucci, hops into the truck.
Young man, I hear you and your friends are stealing goods. But you don't even send a dress to my house. No respect! You know I've got three daughters. This is my neighborhood. You and your friends should show me some respect. You should let me wet my beak a little. I hear you and your friends cleared $600 each. Give me $200 each, for your own protection. And I'll forget the insult. You young punks have to learn to respect a man like me! Otherwise the cops will come to your house. And your family will be ruined. Of course, if I'm wrong about how much you stole, I'll take a little less. And by less, I only mean - a hundred bucks less. Now don't refuse me. Understand, paisan? Understand, paisan?... Tell your friends I don't want a lot. Just enough to wet my beak. Don't be afraid to tell them!
What's this got to do with Florence City Council? Well, read the article in
today's SCNOW and tell me it doesn't sound like this city council just made it an offer someone couldn't refuse...
New York, 1920. A young Vito Coreleone had just begun pulling off a few capers with his partners, Clemenza and Tessio. As he drives a truck filled with boosted dresses down the street, the neighborhood rep of the Black Hand, Don Fanucci, hops into the truck.
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