Pool_1

rising tomb stones that marked the coffin of a city below him, Patterstown. Silk was gone. Dye factories were gone. War industry was gone. Just a struggling population and a defiled river remained. A population as changed as that river flowed around an inherited seat of power now called mayor Thomas Stone, Jr., who spent three million dollars to capture that seat - a position that only paid seventy five thousand dollars a year, for something described as love of his city. Marcus had paused to absorb this panorama and to reflect on his dad's stories of the uneasy dance of Mafia families and city governments. They heeded each other. The scurrilous deals of the corrupt politic required quiet resources. The Mafia needed certifications, allowances and whatever else made their traffic easier. Both were there to take. The Mafia took, mostly, by providing illegal products and services and countering industrial power. Even Illinois Fat had to bail out of his early investment in the Tucker auto scheme. His power, grand as it was, was not in league with the big three auto giants. It is hard to imagine the niceties of the auto industry in cut throat competition with the Mafia. Money is power. They had it. They used it. Industry, kings, Mafia, what's the difference? They aren't we the people. They make their own law and enforce it on us whether or not we enforce ours on them. Worse they make theirs - ours - and inflict ours on us. Politicians took by covering industry transgressions. So as to not rely on others, they also filled their pockets by stealing from false services supposedly provided the population. To this end, the news organizations played an integral part in the corruption process. At least, this his dad had said many times, over supper, but never explaining in detail. It was always more judgmental than analytical. Anyway Marcus was young. Those stories were boring in a house so alive with jazz. He listened more to the