What It's Like to be Every Mafia Rank

Level one, the hangaround. You're a

local kid. You grew up watching the cool

guys in the neighborhood. You see the

jewelry, the cars, and the respect. You

want that life. You start hanging

around. You fetch coffee. You wash the

Cadillac. You run to the deli to [music]

get sandwiches for the card game in the

back room. You are invisible. The maid

men barely look at you. To them, you are

free labor. You are a gopher. You go for

coffee and go for cigarettes. Your job

is to listen and keep your mouth shut.

You are being watched every second. They

are testing your discipline. If you talk

too much, you're gone. You aren't making

money yet. In fact, you are taking all

the risk for none of the reward. If the

cops raid the club, you're the one they

throw in the car while the bosses walk

out the back. How do you get promoted?

You make yourself useful. You spot a cop

car two blocks away and warn them. Level

two, the associate. You pass the test.

Now you're an associate. You are not a

member of the family, but you work with

[music] the family. Your life is a

hustle. You hijack trucks coming out of

the airport. You run a sports betting

book. [music] But here's the catch. You

don't get to keep all the money. You

have to kick up. Every week you take a

fat envelope of cash and you hand it to

your sponsor, [music] the soldier who

brought you in. If you steal $10,000,

you [music] better hand over 3,000 of it

to him. If you hold out on him, [music]

you are stealing from the family. That

gets you disappeared. The risk here is

high. You are the one doing the dirty

work. You are the one breaking the legs

and hijacking the cargo. The FBI is

watching you because you are sloppy and

hungry. If you get pinched, the family

owes you nothing. [music] You do your

time. You keep your mouth shut. That is

the only way to prove you are worthy of

the next level. Level three, the senior

associate. You have been earning for

years. You kept your mouth shut during a

three-year stint in state prison. You

proved you can generate cash and you

don't crack under pressure. Now you are

on record with a captain. This means you

belong to him. No other crew can touch

you. If a guy from another family tries

to shake you down, your captain steps in

and says, "Back off. He's with me." This

is the most dangerous time of your

career. The bosses are vetting you. They

are looking into your bloodline. You

must be 100% Italian on your father's

side. They are digging into your past to

see if you have any rats in your family.

One mistake here ends you. If you get

into a bar fight and embarrass the

family, you are done. Then one day you

are told to dress up. You are told you

are going to get made. Level five, the

sold. You walk into a basement or a back

room. There are men sitting around a

table. There is a piece and a picture of

a saint. They prick your trigger finger.

They drip your blood onto the image of

the saint. Congratulations. You are a

made man. You are untouchable. A

civilian can't touch you. An associate

can't touch you. Even a boss from

another family cannot end you without

permission from [music] the commission.

If someone hits you, they hit the entire

organization. You are now inside the

circle of trust. You have a crew of

associates working for you. [music] They

kick up to you and you kick up to your

captain. Your job is to supervise the

rackets. You make sure the construction

sites are paying. You make sure the

union votes go the right way. You don't

have to break the windows yourself

anymore. [music] You send an associate

to do it. But you are still a soldier.

When the boss says someone needs to go,

you go. You grab your work bag and you

handle it. Refusal is not an option.

Level six, the enforcer. Some guys are

good at earning. Turns out you're good

at violence. When a debt needs to be

collected and the guy isn't paying, they

send you. You are the terror mechanism

that keeps the money flowing. Or maybe

you are a specialist in disposal. You

know how to make a body disappear. You

know which chemical plants have acid

vats or which construction foundations

are being poured on Tuesday morning. You

are feared by everyone, even the guys in

your own crew. But this is a lonely

spot. They need you, but they don't like

being around you. Level seven, the

acting capo. Your captain has a problem.

Maybe he got indicted on a RICO charge.

Maybe he had a heart attack. Maybe he's

under too much surveillance to leave his

house. He points to you. You are now the

acting capo. You are the substitute

teacher, but with life and death power.

You are running the crew, but everyone

knows the seat isn't really yours. This

is a test of your loyalty and your

management. You have to keep the

envelopes full for the captain while he

is away. You have to keep the soldiers

in line. If you do a bad job, the money

stops [music] and the captain gets

angry. If you do too good of a job, the

captain might get jealous. He might

think you are [music] trying to steal

his crew. You have to walk a razor edge.

You have to be the boss while looking

like you don't want to be the boss.

Level eight, the captain. The acting

title is gone. You are the skipper. You

are a capo. You run a crew of 10

soldiers and hundreds of associates. You

control a territory, maybe a section of

Brooklyn. You are a mid-level executive.

You don't touch the drugs. You don't

touch the guns. You manage people. Your

primary job is to buffer the boss. You

meet with your soldiers in safe places,

malls, parks, walk-in talks. They give

you the envelopes. You give them orders.

You are responsible for the income of

your entire crew. If the economy is bad,

you still have to pay the boss. If the

FBI raids your gambling parlor, you have

to find a new way to earn by next week.

You [music] are also the judge. When two

soldiers have a beef over money, they

come to you. You settle it. Your word is

law within the crew. But you have a

quota. You have to deliver a fat package

to the boss every week. If you stop

earning, you are replaced. And in this

business, replaced means executed. Level

nine, the messenger. This is a niche

position, but a powerful one. You are

the diplomat. The families need to talk

to each other, but the bosses can't

meet. It's too risky. The FBI is

watching every handshake, so they send

you. You travel between the five

families. You carry messages that can

never be written down or spoken on a

phone. You prevent wars. If a soldier

from one family sleeps with the wife of

a soldier from another family, you are

the one who negotiates the solution

before bullets start flying. You need to

be charming, calm, and incredibly

careful. Level 10, the conciglier. You

are now the third man in the big room.

You are the counselor. You generally

don't have a crew. You don't have a

territory. You have the boss's ear. You

are the only person in the hierarchy

allowed to tell the boss he is wrong.

When the boss wants to end a captain

[music] in a rage, you are the one who

says, "Wait, think about the business.

Think about the heat. You are often a

lawyer, or at least you think like one.

You know the intricacies of the law. You

advise on how to structure the scams to

avoid RICO charges. You are the

mediator. When the captains are fighting

and the underboss can't fix it, they

come to you. You are safe. Usually, you

aren't a threat to the throne. You are a

toll for the throne. Level 11, the under

boss. You are the VP of operations. You

are second in command. The boss is the

CEO. He sets the vision. You are like

the COO. You make it happen. You handle

the dayto-day. All the copos report to

you. You collect the master envelopes

from all [music] the crews. You settle

the disputes that are too big for the

captains but too small for the boss.

If the feds build a case, they usually

hit you first. You are the layer of

insulation that keeps the boss out of

jail. You are also the air apparent. If

the boss dies or goes to prison, the

crown usually falls to you, but everyone

knows it. That makes you the number one

target for every ambitious captain who

thinks he can do a better job. You have

to be strong enough to run the family,

[music] but submissive enough not to

scare the boss. Level 12. The boss. Capo

Familia. the commission. You made it.

You survived the street wars, the prison

sentences, [music] and the treachery.

You are the father. You sit at the head

of the table. You are a ghost. You never

touch a gun. You never touch a dollar

bill from a racket. You have layers of

people between you and the crime. You

whisper an order to your underboss. And

3 days later, a rival [music]

disappears.

You deal with the commission. This is

the board of directors for organized

crime. You sit with the bosses of the

other families and divide the country.

You decide who can be made. You decide

who dies. You have total power, but you

have no peace. Your best friend wants

your job. The FBI has a squad dedicated

solely to destroying you. There is no

retirement. There is no walking away.

You stay on the throne until you die in

a hospital bed. a prison cell or on the

pavement outside a steakhouse. This is

the life you chose.

>> [music]