"The first thing you gotta remember," Turrin told Bolan, "is that I'm the C.O. You can think of yourself as the First Sergeant if you want to-but just remember that I'm the C.O. Then the second thing you gotta remember is that we never use the word 'Mafia'! Understand? It's The Organization.' You work for the organization and the organization works for you. That's the way it works. But you're not a member. You could never be a member. Your blood ain't right, see. Even Seymour ain't no member."

"There's a difference?" Bolan wanted to know.

They were in Turrin's automobile, a fancy canary-yellow convertible, and Turrin was giving his new protege a lift home from Seymour's suburban home. "Sure there's a difference." He punched in the cigarette lighter and fished in his pocket for something to light, finally accepting a Pall Mall from Bolan. "Look, the organization goes back for centuries. Got started in Sicily, the home of my ancestors. It was sort of like Robin Hood, only this ain't no fairy tale, it's for real. I'll bet you didn't know-the Mafia is a real pure idea-real democracy, you know, democracy for the little people. For the ones that was getting shit on. It was even better than Robin Hood because it was a mass movement."