Rosetti calls back again to offer condolences from him and Masseria, and to invite him to come see him sometime in Tabor Heights. Nucky hangs up and flips shit, trashing his office until Eli has to grab him around the shoulders. Nucky thrashes against him and asks who the hell he thinks he is. He's not just saying that -- he demands to know who Eli is. Chalky tells him it's his brother and he needs to get ahold of himself. Clarity comes to Nucky once more and he rattles off the names of seemingly every bootlegger in the northeast -- including Rothstein and Waxey Gordon -- plus Johnny Torrio in Chicago if he can make it, and wants them all invited to the Ritz for a summit. "Joe Masseria is backing Gyp Rosetti. So I'll have to kill them both." Sleater gravely informs his boss that Joe Masseria has an army. Nucky, resolute, says that's why they'll need help. He looks around and sees nothing but dubious faces, but he insists that he's making perfect sense.
Tabor Heights. Rosetti is eyeing a Revolutionary soldier mannequin behind glass in the town hall. The statue itself looks perhaps African-American, but it's actually of "Mad" Anthony Wayne, a brigadier general in the Continental Army and who, according to a townie woman, spent two nights in Tabor Heights on his way to the battle of Monmouth. Rosetti likes his name ("Anthony -- he's Italian?") and the idea that the guy "did the town" in his two days in Tabor. Rosetti's underling says "they're ready," so Rosetti enters the meeting room, where a couple dozen Tabor Heights residents have gathered -- herded maybe more accurately, considering Rosetti's men line the perimeter of the room with guns out. Rosetti plays the mart of the magnanimous conqueror. He makes no bones about the fact that he and his men are setting up their criminal shop in Tabor for the time being. But he gets right to the subject of the $200 monthly kickbacks. "Which is a pretty square deal for keeping your mouth shut," Rosetti says, then asks Sheriff Ramset and his busted face if that's true. He's managing to evince something like charm as he says that everybody in the town is going to keep to their regular business -- only when one old lady asks about Bible camp, he informs her that Bible camp is cancelled this year, "and I'm not really doing questions and answers now, dear." He asks everyone to line up for their money -- and to make sure to write down their name and address. For bookkeeping, you see. I wonder if the idea is to spook the people into moving out, because as the corporate CEOs of America have taught us in the wake of the 2012 election, it's way easier to hold on to your money when you're cutting the people you pay loose.