Whitey's Bookshelf

by Sheila Connolly

This past week federal prosecutors released hundreds of page of evidence used in the recently-concluded trial of Catherine Greig, the woman who accompanied notorious Boston gangster on his flight from prosecution, and stuck with him in hiding for more than 16 years (talk about "stand by your man"!).

If you're not familiar with Whitey Bulger, you've been living on Mars, or outside the greater Boston area (may be the same thing).  I've lived in the far suburbs of Boston for the past nine years, and for another eight in the '70s, so I must have absorbed the story through my skin, one way or another (no, I am not related to John Connolly, the disgraced FBI agent who allowed Bulger free rein to kill, extort, etc., while supposedly using him as a confidential informant).

But what I found interesting about the news story this week was that the main photograph (Boston Globe, Metro section, above the fold) was not of either of the protagonists in this drama, but of Whitey Bulger's bookshelf.

If you want a good timeline for the whole sorry Bulger mess, read Thomas J. Foley's recent book, Most Wanted.  Foley was a member of the Massachusetts State Police, and he stuck with the case for a large portion of his career.  Regarding Whitey's reading habits, Foley writes that during Whitey's sole stint in prison (Alcatraz), Whitey read, "just about everything in the prison library.  He pored over the major battles of World War II, scrutinizing them both from the viewpoint of the Allied general and from that of the Nazi commander."  He learned from everything he read, and then he applied it well (if his goal was to seize power in Boston's criminal underworld and terrorize anyone who stood in his way).

My point?  This was an intelligent man, who read books and made use of what he learned from them.  He followed newspaper reports, from his cozy apartment in Santa Monica, two blocks from the sea.  He collected recordings of such shows as America's Most Wanted.  He kept tabs on what was happening in Boston, on how he was depicted in the press, and on what his former associates were saying about him (in and out of jail).  He boned up on search procedures, the better to evade detection, all the while stockpiling weapons and cash in case the FBI caught up with him.  They didn't, for 16 years, even though he was living in plain sight in a rented condo.

And this man was an amoral murderer who enjoyed the act of killing.

Why is it that I want to believe than someone who felt no compunction about taking the life of anyone who stood in his way or posed a threat to him, including former colleagues in crime, couldn't possibly also be smart and analytical? Clearly he planned his strategic ascent to power years in advance, and he carried out his plans without compunction.  On another front, he had two lady friends, and when one balked at going on the lam with him (while refusing to give him up to his pursuers), he had a back-up ready—Catherine Greig, who stuck by him faithfully until they were both captured.

Whitey's trial is scheduled for November, if all goes as planned.  No doubt the papers will be full of the testimony; no doubt there will be further revelations, and we all watch in horror.  How often do we get to witness evil, in our own back yard?

Wonder what he's reading in prison now? 

GOT HIM!

by Sheila Connolly


I was going to post a piece today about stuff and why we hang on it to, but it'll still be there later (just like all my stuff).  Today I awoke to headlines that the notorious, infamous, heinous (fill in adjective of your choice) Whitey Bulger has finally been captured, after being on the run from the FBI since 1995.

To most of the world this is no big thing, I suppose (despite his long presence on the FBI's Most Wanted List, right after Osama bin Laden, and the two million dollar reward on his head), but if you live in the Boston area, his continued absence has been in the news on and off since he disappeared.  Where's Whitey?  Is he dead?  Nope, he's alive and well, and he's been living in California with his long-time girlfriend, Catherine Grieg.

Since Monday of this week it's been all over the network news that the FBI had launched a new strategy, running ads with pictures of both of them during television programs favored by women, in case anyone had seen Catherine (the "moll") at a beauty salon or dentist's office.  Think they'll credit this campaign with the result?  (Probably not, given the timing, but maybe the ad campaign was designed to lull Whitey into a false sense of security.)

Before I say anything more, let me add for the record that I am not connected in any way to John Connolly, the Boston FBI agent who was feeding Whitey information for years, which enabled him to leave town shortly before he was to be arrested in 1995.  Connolly was convicted and did jail time for his role.

I know more than the average person about Whitey and his gang because when I was writing the Glassblowing Mysteries (as Sarah Atwell), my publisher suggested that the villains should be from the Mafia.  Having grown up in New Jersey, I thought the Mafia had been overdone, so I countered with, why not the Irish Mob?  I loved the thought of Boston bad guys trekking around the Arizona desert, completely out of their element.  In preparation for this, I read a couple of books written by some of Whitey's lieutenants (I won't name names, because I think they're all out of prison now--and doing book tours!).  Interesting if scary reading, because the authors were so completely amoral, except when it came to loyalty to their boss.  Even now I can't drive though Southie (Boston's South End, Bulger's power base) without thinking of those stories--and where the bodies were buried.

Whitey's tale also held a delicious irony:  while Whitey was one of the country's most notorious criminals, his brother William was the leader of the Massachusetts Senate, and subsequently president of the University of Massachusetts system (he admitted speaking to his brother just after Whitey blew town, but swore that he hadn't heard from him since).  Nobody has proven that Bill Bulger knew anything about Whitey's whereabouts (or his criminal activities?).

Does fiction get any better than this?  A man who has been credited with at least 20 murders, who ruled the Boston underworld with an iron hand, and then eluded FBI pursuit for years?  With a beautiful blonde companion?

Want to bet that there will be a Whitey Bulger: My Story book in the works in minutes?