[TheStellarEnsemble.com] The Godfather - Mario Puzo

Hostages given, the meeting took place in the director’s conference room of a smallcommercial bank whose president was indebted to Don Corleone and indeed some of whosestock belonged to Don Corleone though it was in the president’s name. The president alwaystreasured that moment when he had offered to give Don Corleone a written document provinghis ownership of the shares, to preclude any treachery. Don Corleone had been horrified. “Iwould trust you with my whole fortune,” he told the president. “I would trust you with my lifeand the welfare of my children. It is inconceivable to me that you would ever trick me orotherwise betray me. My whole world, all my faith in my judgment of human character wouldcollapse. Of course I have my own written records so that if something should happen to me myheirs would know that you hold something in trust for them. But I know that even if I were nothere in this world to guard the interests of my children, you would be faithful to their needs.”The president of the bank, though not Sicilian, was a man of tender sensibilities. Heunderstood the Don perfectly. Now the Godfather’s request was the president’s command and soon a Saturday afternoon, the executive suite of the bank, the conference room with its deepleather chairs, its absolute privacy, was made available to the Families.Security at the bank was taken over by a small army of handpicked men wearing bankguard uniforms. At ten o’clock on a Saturday morning the conference room began to fill up.Besides the Five Families of New York, there were representatives from ten other Familiesacross the country, with the exception of Chicago, that black sheep of their world. They hadgiven up trying to civilize Chicago, and they saw no point in including those mad dogs in thisimportant conference.A bar had been set up and a small buffet. Each representative to the conference had beenallowed one aide. Most of the Dons had brought their Consiglieres as aides so there werecomparatively few young men in the room. Tom Hagen was one of those young men and theonly one who was not Sicilian. He was an object of curiosity, a freak.Hagen knew his manners. He did not speak, he did not smile. He waited on his boss, DonCorleone, with all the respect of a favorite earl waiting on his king; bringing him a cold drink,lighting his cigar, positioning his ashtray; with respect but no obsequiousness.Hagen was the only one in that room who knew the identity of the portraits hanging onthe dark paneled walls. They were mostly portraits of fabulous financial figures done in rich oils.One was of Secretary of the Treasury Hamilton. Hagen could not help thinking that Hamilton245