A Short Story
The Price Of Freedom
In Both Lira And Dollars
by
R.E. Prindle
From The Archives Of
Yesterday’s News Service
Our Motto: Real News Never Goes Stale
Lincoln Adams sat quietly sobbing in the dark. He now realized what he had done. His best intentions had been turned back on him. He wasn’t thinking but his actions passed in crowded review through his troubled mind.
He remembered the proudest day in his life when he and Ginnie Wolfe had exchanged vows. He had taken the vow to protect quite seriously. Thus when a few days after returning to work from his honeymoon his boss had told him to clean out his office and leave he had been devastated. He then found that his former employer was blackballing him. So-called theft. Not a charge that he could defend himself against as he was never publicly accused but a mere hint that there were irregularities in his accounts. Unless he got a lucky break he either would have to leave Chicago or accept a laboring job. He didn’t want to declasse himself.
He sat on his bench hunched forward his eyes turned upward as though expecting help from above when a kindly looking fellow appeared, a well dressed and groomed gentleman sat down beside him. He was holding the help wanted section of the Tribune in his hand.
Clearing his throat gently he said: ‘Tough times. Jobs aren’t easy to come by.’
‘You don’t know the half of it.’ Link groaned out half tearfuly looking over at the man. He saw a kindly handsome face that was unseamed given the man’s apparent advanced years. The man seemed genuinely concerned about him.
‘Oh, I think I do.’ He said, quietly oozing commiseration. ‘When I was your age I might have been in the same situation myself. Might have been? I was…’
‘I’ll bet it wasn’t quite the same. You don’t…’
‘Oh sure, your boss fired you to cover up some cash shortages and now he’s blaming it on you, out of consideration for you of course he’s not pressing charges. Now you can’t get a job.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I didn’t know for sure. I just guessed. These things are so common.’
‘Yeah? What do you do about it?’
‘I may be able to help. You see, I believe in you. I don’t know what it is about you but you just seem like a man who deserves a break. That looks like a wedding ring on your finger. Just get hitched?’
‘Yeah, three weeks before I got fired. I don’t know how I’m going to take care of her like she deserves. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Now I’ll probably lose her.’
‘Now, now. I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.’ He smiled benignly, reassuringly. Just looking at him restored your confidence. ‘I should introduce myself. I’m Richard Cole, you can call me Dick. What would you say if I said I could get you a job, a good job, this is in the bookkeeping field though you might have to take some night classes…’
‘I’m an accountant.’ Link blurted.
‘CPA?’
‘No. Just an accountant.’
‘You might be perfect. This is a good job, good pay and most importantly you don’t ever have to worry about being fired. If you take it it’s a lifetime job.’
‘Who’s it with?’
A firm called Statistical Tabulating Company. It’s not an ordinary company. They take a real interest in the lives of their employees. Would you like to talk to them?’
Lincoln Adams did talk to them. He accepted the job. The first thing they had done after a six month probationary period was to transfer him to St. Louis. Link didn’t like it but he was in no position to refuse. He had to take care of his Ginny.
She was worth caring for. She was a beautiful young woman just coming into her full womanly perfection as she approached the magical age of twenty. She was truly in love with Link too, until…
Through his muffled sobs Link heard a car door slam. He looked at the clock. Four-thirty in the morning.
He went tothe door, opened it to find his beautiful Ginny staggering up the walk, drunk, dazed and confused, in a highly excited condition so blind she couldn’t actually see where she was going. Link reached out to guide her. She pulled her arm away in instinctive revulsion, growling under her breath.
It was then that the full weight of pain, of self-loathing, of self-hate, oh god, oh god, it was as though a sledgehammer fell from the sky crushing the right side of his brain nearly paralyzing the right side of his face. His Anima had also been assassinated.
Pain! There’s the excruciating pain of breaking bones, of crushing blows, of screaming anguish and then there’s the pain of psychic wounding. The enervating, paralyzing numbness of knowing you have damaged and been damaged in ways that can never be repaired.
For three days Ginny didn’t get out of bed or say a word. For three days Link sat in his chair paralyzed as he sobbed quietly. Physical pain could heal…but this?
Then on the fourth day the doorbell rang. Barely able to rouse himself Adams dragged himself to the door opening it a crack: ‘You!’ He exclaimed. ‘What do you want?’
‘May I come in?’ Dick Cole asked in his quiet controlled manner pushing the door open as he did. ‘Are you alright?’
Lincoln Adams looked at his recruiter through tear bleared eyes.
‘I came down from Chicago right away when they said there might be some problems. Can I help?’ He cooed as though, no, he was, he was genuinely concerned. He was a kindly man. That’s why he had been chosen; he was the right man in the right job.
‘I…I…I don’t want this lifetime job anymore, Mr. Cole. I’m turning in my resignation.’
‘I don’t think you understood properly, Link. this is a lifetime job. It’s yours for life whether you will or not now.’
‘I don’t want it for the rest of my life.’
‘There is no rest of your life beyond the tenure of this job, Link. You have a lifetime contract. Contracts are sacred in America. The day you violate the contract they will exercise their option and terminate your life. That’s what lifetime means. The termination of your life is in their hands where you placed it. Voluntarily I might add. You didn’t have to take this job.’
‘But nobody told me that I would have to let them use my Ginny, my beautiful Ginny, as a prostitute.’
‘Well, there may have been certain details overlooked at the time but it’s so hard to mention everything. Besides you must have realized there would be strings attached to guaranteed lifetime employment? There’s no such thing as a free lunch, young man.’
‘But they must have done horrible things to her. You should have seen her and now she won’t even recognize me. She just turns away and stares at the wall.’
‘I know, I know. It’s awfully hard on them the first time but they get used to it, learn to enjoy it. If it’s any comfort to you they really liked her. They thought she was beautiful too. After an injection and she was relaxed I can assure you she seemed quite gay.’
‘Injection?’
‘Yes. A little heroin make them more pliable and, of course, a habit guarantees compliance.’
‘A heroin habit? My Ginny? Besides we can’t afford that.’
‘We’ve taken that into consideration Link. There’s no reason you should be burdened by the expense. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll take Ginny off your hands taking the financial burden ourselves.’
‘What? You’re going to take her from me? But she’s my wife, you can’t just take her.’
‘You’re right Link. That would be theft. Here, I’m authorized to give you two thousand dollars for her to make everything legal. I’ll just go get her. And Link, you’re expected to be back on the job tomorrow. Be there or be square.’ Dick Cole said with a chuckle.
Lincoln Adams was too stunned, too confused, too paralyzed by guilt to object as Dick Cole led Ginny past him from the house.
Ginny passes out of the story now. Several years later in 1962 Link and the whole St. Louis office was transferred from St. Louis to San Francisco. Tabulating cards were not becoming passe as the new computers muscled in on information storage and retrieval.
The Outfit was always on the cutting edge of technology. Oh yes, If you haven’t already guessed Lincoln Adams was employed by the Chicago Mob, the Outfit. The organization was now fronted by the most repulsive of its thugs, Sam Giancana.
Just as Dick Cole had learned to accommodate himself to his enslavement by the Mob so Lincoln Adams had attempted to sublimate his enslavement. For that is what the lifetime job meant. Both men had sold themselves to the Mob in the exact same way an ancient Greek debtor sold himself into slavery.
However his betrayal and the loss of Ginny was like a knot of asphalt forever lying in the pit of his stomach. His feeling of guilt and shame was too immense for him to psychologically digest. He wanted to vomit it all over someone else; pass the monkey from his back to another’s. Intellectually he believed this psychologically impossible feat was possible.
At the beginning of 1963 Dewey Trueman walked into the office of Stat Tab looking for a job. Lincoln Adams took one look at Trueman and recognized the man he intended to dump on. There was something in the sorrowful hangdog expression on Trueman’s face, that in his posture that expressed a resigned hopelessness and a muted fear that indicated to Adams that he would be successful in passing his burden on.
He controlled his excitement as he casually interviewed him. He asked Trueman if he was married. When Trueman replied no but that he was engaged with the marriage set for September when he would need time off for a honeymoon. Adams actually relaxed closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair in relief.
The applicant got the job.
Trueman went to work attempting to settle into the job. He was taken back by the mysterious way the company did business. His office headed a long row of cubicles on each side of an aisle not unlike a prison block. I guess if you’re in the Mob certain architectural details you’re familiar with stick in the mind. The cubicles were occuped by ten ‘salesmen.’ All Anglos. As salesmen however they never left the office to sell nor did they ever obtain any sales. They merely sat at their desks waiting. From time to time one, two or three phones rang and the corresponding number of salesmen got up looking very tough, adjusting their clothing, then marching out in a very determined way not exactly befitting a pesuasive sales demeanor.
As an accountant Dewey was mystified how a company with so few accounts could maintain such a large staff. Even then he was never able to find any of the accounts in the phone book.
Even the computer technicians seemed peculiarly inept acting almost as though they’d never seen a computer before. Of course, in those days computers were a new phenomenon. Few people had any experience with them while fewer still could be said to have an intimate knowledge of them.
Dewey was pondering all this one day as he sat eating his lunch in a nearby hamburger shop. San Francisco had a knack with food, even simple food like a hamburger, which couldn’t really be found anywhere else in the country. Even though he was not well traveled Dewey knew he was getting hamburgers such as he would never enjoy again.
Back to the point, having finished his lunch he stepped out from the door from which he could see the entrance to his office. As he looked he saw Capt. Richard Walker leaving the building with a satisfied air. Walker had been Trueman’s employer at Overseas Shipping, his last job. Dewey had left voluntarily but with indications that he was no longer wanted.
Capt. Walker had visited Stat Tab to tell them that Dewey had absconded with $20,000. This was an absurdity as well as a lie as Trueman had stolen nothing and wouldn’t be working at Stat Tab if he had. Twenty thousand was a lot of money in those days. Four or five times Dewey’s annual salary. What Trueman had done was uncover a scheme in which about $20,ooo a voyage was being skimmed from overcharges by Capt. Walker and his clique in the office. That was $20,000 a voyage and overseas ran twenty-two voyages a year.
Capt. Walker fearing exposure although none in fact was possible from Dewey’s quarter was intent on hounding Trueman out of San Francisco. His intent at Stat Tab naturally was to get Trueman fired.
Unaware of the situation that Stat Tab was a Mob front and unaware that Trueman’s situation as he told it now exactly paralleled that of Lincoln Adams, his interview had the opposite result he intended. As Adams and his boss believed Capt. Walker who was a very impressive man well practiced at appearing impressive as any sea captain must Adams now could feel Trueman was in his power. He realized now that it was impossible for Trueman to quit. Thus he formulated a plan.
For his part Trueman gradually came to understand that he was employed by the Chicago Outfit. His contact in the Chicago office was none other than Dick Cole. Cole was the same genial man with a confidence inspiring manner of speaking. Still, there was something guarded in his manner while he would never answer the questions that puzzled Trueman.
Then it was announced that the owner, Luigi Bigwini, was to make his annual inspection tour on June 18th. This was a big deal. The Mafia was able to get labor to do what they objected to anywhere else without a complaint. On the key day Trueman and the salesmen were stood at attention outside their cubicles as though soldiers on parade.
Bigwini himself was out of central casting; in fact he might have been rejected for being too authentic, nearly a caricature. He was a short homely Mafioso wielding a big cigar- big fat long cigar- almost as big as he was. He spoke in that gruff throaty tone like any good fella of the movies. Strangely he projected a strong aura of someone who wanted to be liked.
Dewey responded to this stepping forward to pat Bigwini on the shoulder. The salesmen’s head turned in amazement while Adams and his boss, Ralph Schlesinger, gulped in anticipation of Bigwini’s response. Trueman was still on the outside. He worked for Stat Tab but wasn’t on the payroll of the outfit. Bigwini was flattered by the response marking Trueman as a possible comer in the Dick Cole mold.
After Bigwini’s visit things changed for Trueman . Bigwini on his return to Chicago recommended Trueman to Dick Cole. Cole’s attitude change to Trueman reached Adams.
Emboldened by he belief that Trueman was a thief who couldn’t affort do quit he began demanding that Trueman stay on the job until seven-thirty at night while demanding he come in on Saturday mornings.
Trueman lived in the East Bay city of Hayward which was an hour and a half trip by bus so working late would eliminate his chances of seeing his fiance during the week while ruining his weekend. Dewey complained that he wouldn’t be able to see his girl but Adams only smiled.
Dewey knew he couldn’t quit but for different reasons than Adams thought. His previous job had lasted only nine months while his job before had been two years. He realized that having been referred to a company like Stat Tab by the employment agency meant Capt. Walker had already sabotaged his reputation. He knew he was in deep but hoped that if he held on for two years he would be able to move.
As his wedding date drew near word came from Chicago to offer him a lifetime job. Since June 18th Dewey had put a lot of twos together, he was well beyond four. He now realized why the salesmen never left the office to sell. He understood the grim look on their faces as they went off to persuade their victims. Both Vegas and Stateline as well as Reno provided a number of people who had to be persuaded to pay their gambling debts.
Trueman had made a very good impression on both Dick Cole and Bigwini so they realized that the offer of a lifetime job wold have to come from someone other than the basic thug.
They selected a member named Herb Allen. Herb was a literary type who was writing a crime novel. He now became friendly with Trueman. If he could succeed as a recruiter that would give him more stature and security within the Outfit. He himself was more hangdog than Trueman with the reason Adams had. In time he might have become as suave as Dick Cole.
Aware of his own precarious situation Trueman listened with bated breath as Allen outlined the lifetime job. Over the years the Outfit had become a little more sophisticated outlining some of the pitfalls.
‘If you accept,’ Allen said. ‘You’ve got to remember you have to give something for something you get. Once you’re in you can’t quit. You belong to the Outfit for life.’
He cast an inquiring look at Trueman.
Trueman’s immediate response was no but he wanted to make it look like he was deliberating so after looking at the ceiling for a few moments, inspecting each corner of the room he said: ‘Hmm. Sounds interesting. Can I think about it for a day or two, talk it over with my fiancee?’
‘Oh, and one other thing.’ Alled ruefully said. ‘Once you’re in your wife is in. They might want to borrow her for an evening every now and then.’ Allen passed his hand across his brow rubbing the left side as he thought of the times his wife had been ‘borrowed.’
Dewey looked at him reflectively for quite a while as he let the enormity of the suggestion penetrate his mind. Slowly he realized that he was to allow his wife to be protituted. That he was to be his own wife’s pimp.
‘That’s out of the question, Herb.’ He said sotto voce realizing the extremely dangerous situation Capt. Walker had gotten him into. He realized there was no difference between Capt. Walker and Luigi Bigwini except the surface sheen. Bigwini was probably the better man and more honest.
‘Well, you think about it, Dewey.’ Herb said.
‘I don’t have to think about it, Herb. It’s out of the question. I don’t want a lifetime job.’
When his reply got back to Lincoln Adams Link sat quietly rearranging his plans. In his mind’s eye he had seen himslef taking first dibs on Trueman’s wife. He wanted to see Trueman suffer the same anguish he had suffered. He didn’t want the guilt and shame of selling Ginny anymore. He wanted to pass it on, he wanted it shared. He was disappointed that Trueman had declined the lifetime job but he should have quit at the same time. Adams therefore still had a card up his sleeve.
Trueman married, honeymooning on Mt. Lassen at the South end of the Cascades. The Outfit had connections everywhere. Adams had one of his men siphon battery acid out of the battery of Trueman’s car. On the return trip the battery meter fluctuated wildly from discharge to charge. Pulling into a dealership in Eureka Trueman was fortunate enough to find an honest repairman who put water in the battery sending him on his way with no charge.
Adams had hoped and Trueman had feared the cost would break him. On the day of Trueman’s return Adams nailed Trueman as he entered the office telling him he was fired, just turn around and leave.
If Adams had expected Trueman to beg for his job thus allowing Adams to bring him into the control of the Outfit he was mistaken; Trueman just turned around and left.
As he had been in the same situation as a young man Adams slandered Trueman unmercifully but that has nothing to do with our story.
The story resumes two years later at the Cal-Neva Lodge at Lake Tahoe. For whatever reasons, the outfit had the San Francisco ofice of Stat Tab closed at the end of 1964 with the lifetime employees being dispersed. Lincoln Adams was reassigned to the Cal-Neva.
While Gus Russo in his book ‘The Outfit’ describes the Cal-Neva as some sort of very profitable plum it was nothing of the sort. The resort is situated in the perpetual shadow of mountains both East and West. The place was grim and foreboding. Further the place was situatied at the North End of Lake Tahoe to which there was no other reason to go. Harrah’s and Harvey’s at the South End were the places to go followed by the invasion of the Las Vegas mob with the erection of the Sahara about this time. The Sahara was so obviously mobbed up that it stood a poor third to Harrah’s and Harvey’s.
Adams himself was bumked up in a huge Mafia compound on the East Side of the lake a few miles above the South End. Large numbers of mobsters were coming and going at all times from the compound which blighted the East Side if not the entire lake.
Adams might have been able to settle in without too much discomfort but for the fact that Chuckie Ulsio took a visceral dislike to him. Chuckie thought that for an Anglo Adams put on airs. Chuckie decided to put Adams in his place.
Now, these mobsters not only had a license to kill but being more enamored of the physical rather than the intellectual they took advantage of body building methods to become not only big but bulked up with bulging muscles. If as Arnold Schwarzenegger said: A good pump is better than sex some of these guys were well prepared to forego women.
Chuckie’s sidekick Angie Penisio although only five-five had shoulders and chest nearly equal to his height.
So, one day Chuckie blocked a door Adams was trying to pass through; ‘Back inside punk.’ Chuckie sneered. ‘We got somethin’ to talk about.’ Angie followed him in closing the door behind him. Adams gulped being now confronted by the Incredible Hulk and the Near Incredible Hulk.
‘I don’t like your attitude around here, Adams. I mean, you don’t show enough respect.’ Chuckie said planting the very broad expanse of his trousers on half the desk while angie stood leering cracking his knuckles.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Adams began ass though talking man to man rather than slave to man.
‘That’s it, Adams. Your tone of voice ain’t submissive enough. You don’t cast your eyes down to the floor. You walk around here like you won the place rather than being here on sufferance.’
I don’t know what you’re talking about. I work here. I’m not a slave.’
‘What did you say? You’re not a slave? Then why don’t you try to quit your job? I’ll tell you why. Because we own you. You give us any shit and they won’t ever find even the nail on your little finger.’
Adams opened his mouth to say something but found he had nothing to say. He realized that he was a slave. Still he seized the hips of his pants hoising them up with a defiant: ‘I’ve got my rights.’
‘No, you ain’t got no rights. You’ve got obligations and duties whatever I say you do you do and you better hope I’m in a good mood when I say it. Let me give you a little history lesson, Lincoln Adams. Let me show you where the real power in this country lies. Adamses may have founded this country and Lincoln may have freed the Negro slaves but we Sicilians have taken this country over and enslaved you pussy Anglos with all your stupid laws.
Whe we Italians came to this dumb country, I mean America, you Anglos had the whip hand. You treated us Italians, especially us Sicilians, like we was dirt beneath your feet. We got all the shit work, the pick and shovel crap, while you Anglos kept all the cushy jobs in those big high rise offices to yourselfs.’
Adams was going to interject that the Sicilians were illiterate and not qualified for anything but pick and shovel but then thought better of it.
‘But there was a flaw in your system. You thought people are better than they are. You tried to keep people from their natural tastes like gambling and whoring. Prohibition. What kind of fools do you think try to keep people from doing what they want?…That’s the question Adams. I need an answer.’
‘I don’t know.’
’The correct answer is: Dumb shit Anglos like us. Say it.’
Adams writhed but with an eye on Angie said: ‘Dumb shit Anglos like us.’
‘Yeah. That’s right. Dumb shit Anglos like you. We ain’t as dumb as you think just because we don’t waste the best yers of our lives shut up in stupid schools that don’t teach you nothin’ about livin’. You left the field wide open and we stepped in. We got the money and power and we call the shots. I’m going to tell you something few people, even in our world, know. You think some loony named Oswald shot Kennedy, don’t you? Uh huh. It was us. You know why? Because those asshole Kennedys double crossed us.
In 1959, Joe Kennedy, the old man, comes to Chicago to inplore our boys to get his boy Jack elected President of the United States of America. We thought it would be the next best thing to having one of ours in the Oval Office. If Jack Kennedy then why not Bill Bonano, huh? That’s what we couldn’t figure out. What makes Kennedy legit and Bonano not. Figure that one out, hey?
So we got this bootlegger’s son elected. We voted the graveyards so many time in Chicago those old bones turned to dust. We provided that asshole with his margin of victory. So what does the little shit do? He sics his brother Bobby on us. Makes him the Attorney General. What a double cross. But we got him good. Not only does he catch a couple slugs but before he does we humiliate him so bad he almost pushed the Red Button in anger. The asshole didn’t know whether he was coming or going.’
Adams interest was piqued. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
‘You ever heard of Marilyn Monroe? Well Jack and Bobby was both fucking her only I don’t know if Jack knows Bobby’s getting some too.
You remember when Monroe goes on TV singing that breathy Happy Birthday, Mr. President? Well, Sam sees it too. He gets an idea. He says: ‘If she’s good enough for the President of the United States she’s good enough for me.’
So, the Rat Packers are a little off form now but then they were in top form. Two of ours, Frank and Dean run this pack with the Jewboy, the one-eyed nigger and this Anglo pimp and gopher who they let hang around named Peter Lawford. What’s this guy Lawford ever do but stand to one side either being ignored by the immigrants or being abused by them, his mouth hanging open waiting for orders just like you Adams.
But this guy Lawford is married into the Kennedys so he’s some sort of pimp or go between between this Monroe broad and the President. You see how good we are. We share Lawford with the President of the United States and he knows to do what we say or he ain’t such a pretty boy anymore. He’s our slave just like you, just all them tushes walking around makes you drool so much. All Anglos, no Italians among ‘em. All Anglos tush. We buy and sell ‘em, trade ‘em like baseball cards. You know what I mean?’ He said looking at Adams sharply.
Adams held back a guilty retch. He knew.
‘So Sam and Frank have this Lawford guy bring this Monroe broad up here to the Cal-Neva for a fun weekend. The Anglo pimp brings up his Anglo whore. Get it? Ha, Ha. That’s funny.
If Sam is sore at the Kennedy’s Frank is very unhappy too. I mean, both these bust their ass to get this son-of-a-bitch elected. Imagine Frank Sinatra pulls out the stops, brings Sam Giancana in, even organizes balls a and this…this more than a son-of-a-bitch says Frank can’t even attend the party because he’s a political liability. Sam is so totally embarrassed y this thing that he has to do a real song and dance with Accardo and Ricca to survive. For a minute there it looks like old Frankie boy is going to take a hit.
Then Sam sees this Monroe broad singing Happy Birthday Dear Mr. President and it’s like a light bulb goes on in his head.
Like eveybody knows Frank’s got Lawford by the hangers so he has ‘Petah’ bring Monroe up for the weekend.
Before she even knows what’s happening they got her so zonked on downers she’s just a puppet. I don’t personally approve of doing this to no broad myself figuring a good backhand to the chops gets the same results and they’re alert enough to put their hearts and souls into it or else but then Sam and Frank have got their own ideas.
Jesus Christ, you should a seen it. It was like they was banging the President himself. Sam is banging her in the ass screaming: ‘Take that you double crossing bastard.’ while Frank is laughing like a maniac shouting out: ‘How does it feel?’ The poor broad is out of her senses so loaded with shit she can’t stop puking, later they had to pump her stomach to get some of the shit out there so she could go on breathing. All in all Sam and Frank have themselves a very rewarding and entertaining evening.’
‘You sound almost like you seen it.’ Adam said ruefully.
‘I did see it. Me and Lawford both of us. Petah took the pictures they sent to the bastard.
‘How could you do that?’
‘Oh, you’re new here yet. There is underground passages connecting all the huts, peep holes, doors in closets whole thing. So we make Lawford watch this whole thing, take pictures, then send him back to tell Jack and Bobby with the snapshots.
They go crazy, Jack especially. A seek later this Monroe broad is back in LA but she is in depression like you wouldn’t believe. I mean, she is destroyed. She calls up her boyfriends to tell them to do something about it, like, you know, hit Frank and Sam, but they send this Lawford shit to tell her she is disgraced and they don’t want to have anymore to do with her. Who could face life after that? Maybe somebody does kill her, I don’t know. But for myself I don’t see how she has any choice but to kill herself. In a way I feel sorry for the broad. That was a lot to take.
So you see, Lincoln, I tell you these things so you know your position among us. Think! He was dishonored through his broad, Jack Kennedy took a shot a couple years ago. None of our boys have been accused and they never will be. We elect Presidents by the ‘democratic’ process and we kill them with impunity. Sam’s doin’ OK; Frank sings to sold out auditoriums. Kennedy’s in his grave. Know your place. I don’t want to hear no more of this Chuckie crap. I’m Mr. Ulsio to you. Same goes for Angie. Now get the hell out of here before I mop the floor with you. Move!’
