Tuddy and Henry run down the block in the rain. See, Paulie doesn't own a phone, so he has people relay his phone messages to him in person, then return his calls from payphones. Paulie is one seriously cautious dude.
Over a sausage-heavy backyard barbecue, Henry explains that, with Paulie, everything was one-on-one. He only spoke to a few close confidants. He hated conferences. He didn't want anybody to hear what was said to him or what he said.
Henry explains that hundreds of guys depend on Paulie for protection, and he gets a piece of everything they make. It's a tribute, just like in the old country.
Cut to Henry setting a bunch of cars on fire. Remember that time your boss at Old Navy had you set a bunch of Hondas on fire? Yeah, us neither.
The frame freezes on Henry running away from the exploded cars. He tells us that one day, the neighborhood kids carried his mom's groceries all the way home from the store. Why? Out of respect.
Cut to Henry showing up on his mother's doorstep in a sleek suit and shiny shoes. "My god," she says, "you look like a gangster."
Cut to a guy that's been shot stumbling down the street toward La Bella Vista. Dr. Henry helps him out by giving him a bunch of aprons.
Tuddy ushers the bloody dude out of La Bella Vista and chides Henry for wasting so many perfectly fine aprons. They don't want anybody to die in their pizza parlor.