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"Lunchtime," Michael said. "Come on and eat with me and my family. My father said
he'd like to meet you. We'll walk over to his house. My mother should have some fried
peppers and eggs and sausages. Real Sicilian style."
That afternoon was the most agreeable Albert Neri had spent since he was a small
boy, since the days before his parents had died when he was only fifteen. Don Corleone
was at his most amiable and was delighted when he discovered that Neri's parents had
originally come from a small village only a few minutes from his own. The talk was good,
the food was delicious, the wine robustly red. Neri was struck by the thought that he
was finally with his own true people. He understood that he was only a casual guest but
he knew he could find a permanent place and be happy in such a world.
Michael and the Don walked him out to his car. The Don shook his hand and said.
"You're a fine fellow. My son Michael here, I've been teachinig him the olive business,
I'm getting old, I want to retire, And he comes to me and he says he wants to interfere in
your little affair. I tell him to just learn about the olive oil. But he won't leave me alone.
He says, here is this fine fellow, a Sicilian and they are doing this dirty trick to him. He
kept on, he gave me no peace until I interested myself it it. I tell you this to tell you that
he was right. Now that I've met you, I'm glad we took the trouble. So if we can do
anything further for you, just ask the favor. Understand? We're at your service."
(Remembering the Don's kindness, Neri wished the great man was still alive to see the
service that would be done this day.)
It took Neri less than three days to make up his mind. He understood he was being
courted but understood more. That the Corleone Family approved that act of his which
society condemned and had punished him for, The Corleone Family valued him, society
did not. He understood that he would be happier in the world the Corleones had created
than in the world outside. And he understood that the Corleone Family was the more
powerful, within its narrower limits.
He visited Michael again and put his cards on the table. He did not want to work in
Vegas but he would take a job with the Family in New York. He made his loyalty clear.
Michael was touched, Neri could see that. It was arranged. But Michael insisted that
Neri take a vacation first, down in Miami at the Family hotel there, all expenses paid and
a month's salary in advance so he could have the necessary cash to enjoy himself
properly.
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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 some
one 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