Chapter 3 Section 1(3)

Both Hagen and Johnny laughed at the clever sarcasm.Now it's John's turn to show how he is good at wronging himself and exalting others: "My voice is very fragile. After singing one or two songs, I can't sing for hours or days. Even rehearsals or reshoots, I can't stick to it from beginning to end. My voice is not working. What disease." "You've got women's troubles, you've got a voice problem. Now tell me what trouble you're having with that Hollywood mogul who won't let you work." The old man was about to get down to business now.

"He's bigger than what you'd call a tycoon," Johnny said. "He's the owner of the studio. He's an advisor to the President on film promotion to advance the war. Just a month ago, he bought this year's Producer rights for best novel. It was a bestseller and the main character in it just happened to be someone like me. I didn't even have to act, just act like I usually do, and I didn't even have to work hard to sing , would get the Academy Award. You know, that would be ideal for me, and I'd be popular again as an actor. But that bastard, Jack Woltz, was trying to kick me out. He He insisted not to assign me the leading role. I offered to do it for nothing, or a little bit, but he still refused to agree. He said that if I went to the lunch cafeteria of the film studio and kissed his ass, That's the only way he can think about it."

Don Corleone waved his hand away from talking nonsense about personal feelings.Among reasonable people, business problems can be solved.He patted his godson on the shoulder: "You're discouraged! Do you think that no one cares about you? You've lost weight and drank a lot, huh? You can't sleep, and you often take sleeping pills?" He said while shaking his head, express disapproval. "Now, I want you to obey my orders," said the old man, "I want you to stay in my house for a month, to eat well, to rest, to sleep, and I want you to be with me. I like to be with you , maybe you can learn some principles of life from your godfather, which will help you in the big Hollywood. But don't sing, don't drink, don't play with women. At the end of the month, you will go back to Hollywood, that tycoon , that 90-centimeter-thick cannonball will give you the task you want. It's a deal, how about it?"

Johnny Fontane couldn't quite trust the Don with such power.But his godfather never said anything that couldn't be done in the end. "This guy has a personal friendship with J. Edgar Hoover," Johnny said. "You can't even speak to him loudly." "He's a very practical man," said the old man mildly. "I'll make him a deal, and he won't refuse." "It's too late," Johnny said. "All the contracts are signed, and the shooting will start in a week. It is absolutely impossible to change." Don Corleone said, "Go, go back to the party, your friends are waiting for you. It's all on me." And he pushed Johnny Fontane out of the house.

Hagen sat at his desk writing the minutes.The old man sighed and asked: "Anything else?" "Sollozzo wants to see you, and now there is no excuse. You must see him within this week." said Hagen, pointing to the calendar with his pen. The old man shrugged: "The wedding is over, you can arrange whatever time you want." This answer showed Hagen two things. First, the answer to Virgil Sollozzo would be a "no"; Any answer, because he expected his own "no" to cause trouble. Hagen said cautiously, "Shall I tell Clemenza to get some of his men to live in this house?"

The old man said impatiently: "Why? The reason why I didn't want to answer before the wedding is because I don't allow clouds, even distant ones, to appear on such an important day. On the other hand, I want to know what he wants to say .Now you see, he's going to start a dirty business." Hagen asked, "So you're going to say no?" The old man nodded.Hagen added: "I thought, before you give him an answer, let's all discuss it together—the whole family." The old man smiled. "Is that what you think? Well, let's talk about it. Wait until you get back from a mission in California. I want you to fly over there tomorrow and do something for John, go see that Movie mogul. Tell Sollozzo I'll see him when you get back from California. Anything else?"

Hagen said solemnly, "There's been a call from the hospital saying that Advisor Abbandando is dying and won't be coming out tonight. His family has been called to watch his deathbed." Hagen had been acting as a consultant for the past year, ever since cancer had confined Genco Abbandando to a hospital bed.Now he waited for Don Corleone to say, "This position is yours forever."But the situation is unfavorable.Traditionally, such high positions have been reserved for men with Italian parents.It has already caused some troubles around his acting as a temporary agent.Besides, he was only thirty-five, which was not considered old enough to have the experience and tact necessary to be a competent adviser.

But the old man said nothing to encourage him in this regard.he asked: "When will my daughter leave here with her bridegroom?" Hagen glanced at his watch. "The wedding cake will be cut in a few minutes, half an hour." Which led him to think of something else: "Do you want to give your new son-in-law some important position in family affairs?" The old man's decisive answer surprised him greatly. "Absolutely not." The old man slapped the desk with his palm. "Absolutely not. You can only give him some kind of job so that he can maintain his life and live a prosperous life. However, he must never be allowed to know the inside story of family affairs. Tell everyone, to Sonny, Fredo, Clay Menza."

The old man paused for a moment. "Tell my son that all three of them are going to accompany me to the hospital to see poor Genco. I want them to pay him their last respects. Tell Fred to pull up the wagon and ask Johnny if he wants to Willing to go with us, for my sake." He found Hagen looking at him as if to ask something. "I want you to go to California tonight. You don't have time to see Genco. But you won't start until I get back from the hospital. I want to talk to you, understand?" "Got it," said Hagen, "when do you want Fredo to have the car ready?"

"After all the guests have left," Don Corleone said, "Genco will be waiting for me to see him one last time." "The Senator called," Hagen said, "and said he was sorry he didn't come in person, for reasons you could understand. He was probably referring to those two FBI guys who recorded the license plate number. But he passed The special courier delivered the gift." The old man nodded.He felt it unnecessary to specify, saying that he himself had warned the Senator not to come. "Is the gift he sent a nice one?" There was an expression of approval on Hagen's face, that Italian look so peculiar in his German-Irish features.

"Ancient silver, very valuable, would fetch at least a thousand dollars if it were to be sold. It took the senator a long time to get this desirable object. The value is not so important to a man of that kind." The amount of money depends on the affection expressed by the thing." Don Corleone made no secret of his delight at the fact that such a great man as the Senator had paid him such an extraordinary tribute.The imposing senator, like the murderous Luke Blasi, was one of the great pillars of the Don's power structure; he also used this gift to reaffirm his loyalty. When Johnny Fontane appeared in the garden, Kay Adams recognized him immediately.She was genuinely surprised. "You never told me you knew Johnny Fontane in your family," she said, "and now I'm definitely going to marry you." "Are you going to meet him?" Michael asked. "Not now," Kay said, and she sighed. "I loved him for three years. Whenever he sang at the Metropolitan Theater in New York, I would come all the way down here to see it and scream like crazy. He sang really well. ’” “Let’s meet him later,” Michael said. When Johnny had finished singing and Well and Don Corleone entered the room, Kay said playfully to Michael: "Dare a famous movie star like Johnny Fontane ask your father for help." "He's my dad's godson," Michael said, "and if it wasn't for my dad, he wouldn't be the big movie star he is today." Kay Adams laughed happily. "It's another fantastic story." Michael shook his head. "The story, I can't tell," he said. "Trust me? I won't tell anyone," she said. He told her, in a flat tone and without pride in his manner.He talked about the facts without adding any additional explanations.He said that eight years ago his father was much more irritable than he is now, and that because his godson was involved, the old man thought his personal honor was involved. The story is quickly over.Eight years ago Johnny Fontane had been so successful in a mass chorus that he had become the most attractive singer on the radio.Unfortunately, the leader of the chorus, a Les Holler, was a bit of a celebrity in the performing arts.He signed a five-year service contract with Johnny.This is an ordinary commercial show thing.Les Haller could loan Johnny out on a contract and pocket most of the money he got. Don Corleone had personally negotiated and offered to send Les Haller twenty thousand dollars in order to free Johnny from that contract.Holler offered to take only fifty percent of what Johnny made.Don Corleone found the idea interesting, and lowered his offer from twenty thousand to ten thousand.The foreman of the song and dance troupe was obviously a guy who knew nothing about human relations except performing arts. He didn't understand the true meaning of this reduction in price, so he flatly refused. The next day, Don Corleone went to see the foreman of the song and dance troupe in person.He was accompanied by two of his closest assistants, his advisor Genco Abbandando and Luke Brasi, without any other witnesses present.Don Corleone persuaded Les Haller to sign a document agreeing to accept a guaranteed check for ten thousand dollars, waiving all rights to the personal services of Johnny Fontane.Don Corleone persuaded, pointing his pistol to the head of the cabaret's forehead, assuring him with the utmost seriousness that he would either sign it or his brains would be all over the document in a minute.Les Holler signed and Don Corleone pocketed his pistol and handed over the guaranteed check. The rest belongs to canon.Johnny Fontane went on to rise as the country's greatest singer.The Hollywood musical comedy he participated in made his studio a fortune, and the music records he made earned millions of dollars.In doing so, he abandoned his wife with whom he had loved since childhood, his two children, and married the most voluptuous star that the movies had ever seen.Soon afterwards, he discovered that she was a "whore".In this way, he is addicted to alcohol, and he will come to bet, and he will chase after other women.There was something wrong with his natural singing voice.His records also failed to sell.Once the contract he signed with the studio expired, the studio would not sign a new contract with him.So he came to beg his godfather. Kai said thoughtfully: "Do you really think you are enviable to have such a father? Everything you have told me about him shows that he is always doing good things for others. He must have a good heart. " She smiled, her facial muscles twitching. "Of course, his methods are not so formal in details." Michael sighed. "I think it sounds like this, but I want to remind you to think about this question, do you know that Arctic explorers always bury food in the cellar along the way to the North Pole? Just to prevent one day You might need food to get there, don't you? That's how my dad does good things for people. He might have something to do someday and call on one of these people. It'd be better if they came over first " It was almost towards evening when the wedding cake was brought out, and everyone was talking and admiring it.Especially the piece baked by Nazorin himself, decorated with shells made of butter, tasted so delicious that it made people feel euphoric.The bride greedily snatched a few slices of cake, and flew off to spend her honeymoon with her groom.Don Corleone noticed that the black FBI sedan was gone, and politely urged his guest to take the opportunity to leave. It was over, and there was only one car left in the driveway, a long black Cadillac with Fredo in the driver's seat.The old man got into the car and sat in the front seat.His movements were quick and well-coordinated for his age and size.Sonny, Michael, and Johnny Fontane sat in the back seat.Don Corleone asked Michael: "Is your girlfriend going back alone, is it safe?" Michael nodded: “Tom said he would take charge.” Don Corleone nodded, expressing his satisfaction at Tom Hagen's productivity. Because gasoline rationing has not been lifted, there are very few cars from the Beltway all the way to Manhattan.In less than an hour, the "Cadillac" car had driven into the French Hospital Street.In the car Don Corleone asked his youngest son if he was doing well in school.Michael nodded and said "yes".Sonny, sitting in the backseat, asked his father: "Johnny said you're going to get him out of Hollywood. Shall I drop by and help?" Don Corleone's answer was simple. "Tom's going to-night. No help is needed. It's very simple." Sonny Corleone laughed loudly: "Johnny doesn't think you can take this thing off, so I thought you might want me to go over there." Don Corleone turned his head. "Why do you doubt my abilities?" he asked Johnny Fontane. "Hasn't your godfather always accomplished anything he said he'd accomplish? When was I ever tricked into not getting something done?" Johnny apologized nervously: "Godfather, what I met this time was a real 90-centimeter cannonball. You can't push him, not even with money. He has great powers, and there are back doors everywhere. He hates me. I didn't know you had How can I make him change his mind?" The old man said in a tone full of affection and humor: "I tell you, I guarantee that you will get what you want." He nudged Michael lightly with his elbow. "We're not going to disappoint my godson, eh, Michael? Michael never doubted for a single minute about his father's abilities.He shook his head, saying that he would not disappoint Johnny. As they walked toward the hospital door, Don Corleone grabbed Michael's arm so the others could rush ahead. "Come and talk to me when you finish college," said the old man. "I have some arrangements for you that you will like." Michael said nothing.Don Corleone got angry and snorted a few times: "I know what you are. I won't make you do anything you don't approve of. You'll be a man at last, and you'll make your own living. But please, when you've finished your studies, come to the Let me come forward!" Genco Abbandando's family, his wife and three daughters, all dressed in mourning, crowded like a flock of crows on the white-tiled floor of the hospital corridor.When they saw Don Corleone come out of the elevator, they flew off the white floor as if instinctively, and flung themselves at him for protection.The mother, dressed in black mourning, looked solemn and calm, while the daughters looked fat and simple.Madame Abbandando kissed and kissed Don Corleone's face like a woodpecker, sometimes sobbing and sometimes wailing. "Oh, what a saint you are, to come here on your daughter's wedding day." Don Corleone waved his hand as if to shake off the words of gratitude. "Should I not pay homage to a friend who has been my right hand for twenty years?" He understood at once: the soon-to-be widow did not understand that her husband was going to die tonight.Genco Abbandando suffered from cancer and had been in this hospital for almost a year, always on the verge of death.The wife thought that his fatal terminal illness was an ordinary phenomenon in life, and tonight was just another danger.She chattered on and on. "Go and see my poor husband," she said, "he always wants to see you. Poor him, he offered to go to the wedding to pay his respects, but the doctor wouldn't let him. You'll come and see him someday. But I didn't think it was possible. Why, men know better friendship than us girls. Come in, he'll be glad to see you." A nurse and a doctor emerged from Genco Abbandando's private room.The doctor was a young man with a grave face, with the air of a man who seemed born to command, that is to say, as if he had been very rich all his life.One daughter asked timidly, "Dr. Kennedy, can we go in and see him now?" Dr. Kennedy scanned the large group angrily.Don't these people understand that the patients inside are slowly dying in agony?It would be better if everyone could let him die peacefully. "Nearest of the family," he said, in his peculiarly polite tone. What surprised him was that the patient's wife and daughter all turned their faces to the short and fat man, as if they wanted to listen to his decision.The man looked awkward in an ill-fitting evening dress.The fat man spoke up.There was a very faint Italian accent in his voice. "My dear doctor," said Don Corleone, "is he really going to die?" "Really," said Dr. Kennedy. "Then there's nothing for you to do," Don Corleone said. "We took all the responsibility. We comforted him, closed his eyes. We buried him, we cried at the funeral and we looked after his wife and daughter afterwards." The matter was stated so bluntly that Madame Abbandando understood as soon as she heard it, and began to sob again. Dr. Kennedy shrugged.It is simply impossible to explain the problem to these bumpkins.At the same time, he also admitted that there was some kind of primitive justice in this man's words.His mission was over, but still maintaining a very polite expression, he said: "Please wait a moment. The nurse will inform you to go in. She has to take care of some very necessary things for the patient first." He left them and walked towards the corridor.His white coat was flapping. The nurse was back in the ward, and they were waiting.She finally came out again, and opened the door to let them in.She whispered: "He's delirious with pain and fever, try not to disturb him. No one else is here except his wife for a few minutes." She recognized Johnny Fontane as he passed her, her eyes wide and round.He gave her a forced smile, and she stared at him welcomingly again.He treated her like a piece of material, temporarily filing it for future reference, then turned around and followed others into the ward. Genco Abbandando had fought death for a long time, and now he was vanquished.He lay on a slightly raised hospital bed, exhausted.He was so depleted that he was no better than a skeleton.The black hair that was full of vitality in the past has now become a bunch of filthy things like threads.Don Corleone said cheerfully: "Jinke, my dear friend, I have brought my sons here in honor of you. And look, Johnny, from Hollywood, too." The dying patient opened his fever-red eyes and looked gratefully at the old man.He let the young men take his skinny, thin hands in their strong hands.The patient's wife and daughter stood side by side along the bed, kissing his face and taking turns shaking his other hand. Now the old man held his old friend's hand tightly and said in a comforting tone: "Hurry up, hurry up, let's travel to Italy together, go to our original village, just like our parents did, playing wooden ball in front of the hotel." The dying patient shook his head, motioning the young man and his family to leave his bedside; he clutched the old man tightly with his other bony hand, and tried desperately to say something.The old man bowed his head, and then sat down on the chair beside the bed.Genco Abbandando was talking about when they were kids.His eyes were furtive, and he was whispering something.The old man bent over and moved closer.The rest of the people in the ward were shocked to see Don Corleone still shaking his head in tears.The trembling voice is getting louder and louder, and anyone can hear it.Abbandando struggled to raise his head with extraordinary efforts in pain, his eyes were blank, and he pointed his index finger at the old man. "Godfather, Godfather," he yelled out of sight, "save me from death, I beg you. My flesh is burnt all over me, and I feel caterpillars eating my brains. Godfather, Heal me, you have the power, and don't make my poor wife cry forever. We used to play together in Corleone Village when we were boys, and now you have the heart to let me because Guilty, to die in the hour of fear of hell?" The old man was silent.Abbandando said again: "Today is your daughter's wedding day, you can't refuse me!" The old man spoke again, in a tone so quiet and dignified that the words could penetrate his blasphemous stupor. "Old man," said he, "I have no such power. If I had, I would be kinder than God, take my word for it. But I am not afraid of death, nor of hell. I will fight for your soul every day. Say Mass in the morning and evening. Your wife and your children will also pray for you. How can God punish you with so many people interceding for you?" There was a repulsive sly expression on the bony face.Abbandando said mysteriously: "Then, it's already been arranged?" When the old man answered him, his tone was cold, without consoling tenderness at all. "You're blasphemy. You'd better resign yourself to it!" Abbandando dropped his head and laid it on the pillow.His eyes had lost the gleam of wild hope.The nurse came back to the ward again, calling them out like birds in a very serious business manner.The old man stood up, but Abbandando held out his hand again.