Even though Irish mob boss James "Whitey" Bulger doesn't have a truly epochal gangster moment to his credit -- such as the 1929 St. Valentine's Day Massacre or the 1985 assassination of Paul Castellano -- his thuggery was well-documented by the authorities who pursued him.
Bulger spent 16 years running from the law, the long arm of which finally caught him last week in California. Editor's note: This is a commentary on the cult of personality that crops up around some members of the criminal underworld, not a news report.
Like most mobsters, James "Whitey" Bulger will likely earn his place in the pantheon of great gangsters.
Not that anything about Bulger is "great" -- it's impossible to canonize a man linked to 19 murders -- but rather "greatness" as measured by the grim standards of the Gangster Hall of Fame, whose members include the likes of Lucky Luciano, John Gotti, Al Capone and Meyer Lansky.
Judging by the interest in Bulger's story, and a tendency by some to turn hard-boiled sinners into soft-boiled saints, Whitey is definitely an A-List mobster, even though he doesn't have a truly epochal gangster moment to his credit.
We're talking about crimes of a certain stature, such as the 1929 St. Valentine's Day Massacre or the 1985 assassination of Paul Castellano, the "boss of bosses."
Nonetheless, Whitey's thuggery is still pretty top shelf, according to the G-men who hunted him for the past 16 years.
But despite his criminal resume, there's still a mild-mannered quality to the guy. Take his nickname, "Whitey," for instance, which just doesn't pack the same punch as "Machine Gun Kelly" (aka George Kelly Barnes), or Al "Scarface" Capone. Or, Owney "The Killer" Madden, for that matter.
"Whitey" sounds like the nickname of a loveable curmudgeon, and with white, thinning hair the 81-year-old Bulger is hardly a menacing portrait of evil -- or health. I'll give this to Bulger: "Whitey" is arguably more onerous sounding than Vincent "The Chin" Gigante, also known as the "Oddfather" or the "Pajama King" for all of the sidewalk shuffling he did while wearing jammies and a bathrobe.
But nicknames can be deceiving. After all, John Gotti, whose ascension to the throne after the Castellano assassination made him veritable mafia royalty, was alternately referred to as "The Dapper Don" (because of his penchant for dressing to the nines) and "The Teflon Don" (because the criminal charges brought against him rarely stuck).
Once the dust settles, though, Bulger surely is destined to make the list of the Top 20 Gangsters of all time -- even if he does end up squealing.
To varying degrees, most mobsters end up singing, and some better than others. When talking to someone -- be it the press, the feds or some sort of intermediary -- helps the cause, most criminals will take the path of criminal expediency.
Bulger's bio alone -- an Irish street tough from South Boston who grew up rough in the projects, graduated to rackets and eventually became leader of the notorious Winter Hill Gang -- virtually guarantees him a box seat in mobster heaven (or hell?).
The official police mugshot of James J. 'Whitey' Bulger Jr., reputed leader of Boston's Irish mob, who was arrested last week and returned to Boston to answer murder and other charges.Much like the abhorrent proclivities of Bulger's New York Irish counterparts, Jimmy Coonan and Mickey Featherstone, who wreaked havoc in Hell's Kitchen throughout the 1970s and '80s, Bulger's homicidal tendencies have been sentimentalized by those apt to paint hardened criminals as softies who really just love "the old neighborhood" and would do anything to protect it from other, more wicked ne'er-do-wells.
That was certainly the case with Coonan and Featherstone, leaders of the ultra-violent Westies, a lawless, ruthless bunch of Irishmen who were too uncivilized for the more polished Italian mobsters who contracted them to do the dirtiest dirty work. The legendary dysfunction of the Westies, who literally chopped up some of their victims to make them do the "Houdini," spawned books and movies, including "State of Grace," while Whitey's tale was the supposed inspiration for the Academy Award-winning film, "The Departed.
Over the years, some Irish-American newspaper columnists, in particular, have shown flashes of affection for their criminal brethren, further fueling the myth that criminals such as Bulger, Coonan and Featherstone were really just misguided kids, neighborhood defenders who sometimes used extra-legal measures to fight for their turf, their people.
But the Irish haven't cornered the market on mobster sentimentality. To this day, the legendary Gotti is revered as a saint in some of Brooklyn's working-class Italian neighborhoods. Gotti has been immortalized in hip-hop lyrics, T-shirts and even TV shows chronicling the life of his family after his death.
Gotti's well-documented ability to steal headlines and sell newspapers made him a household name, from Brooklyn to Los Angeles. And who can forget the mostly Italian-American crowds that packed the streets outside the Brooklyn federal courthouse where Gotti was sentenced to prison for murder and racketeering charges in 1992. Up to 1,000 Gotti supporters, unhappy over the outcome of his criminal trial, started rioting in the streets, trashing vehicles and flipping a car. Shouts of "Free John Gotti!" were heard rising up from the fierce crowd.
One man's sinner is another's saint, apparently.
Meanwhile, the public's fascination with Whitey has continued to grow since his arrest last week. That said, it's hard to imagine Southie residents rallying outside a courthouse for the 81-year-old Bulger, who is the very antithesis of Gotti. Take the gangsters' sartorial preferences, for instance: Gotti is Armani and Bulger is Member's Only.
A 1990 file photo of John Gotti, the late New York mob boss.If Gotti had flown the coup, he'd probably have chosen a hideout in some exotic locale (think the Amalfi Coast), not a pedestrian, rent-controlled apartment a few blocks from the beach.
As has been widely reported, Bulger spent the past 16 years living in "plain view" in a two-room apartment in California. Since his arrest, curious types have flocked to Santa Monica to get a glimpse of a "genuine gangster" home.
"We're here from 8 to 8, and the phone's been off the hook" with prospective tenants, Joshua Bond, property manager of the Princess Eugenia apartments, told the Boston Herald.
Further cementing Whitey's legend is the growing interest in his old haunts, the places where he conducted business and broke a few knuckles along the way. Just as tourists fork over money to take "terrorism tours" of the most notorious sections of Belfast, a city riddled with sectarian hatred and violence that's second to none, touring Boston's more notorious mob sites seems to hold the same sort of grim fascination.
The Boston Globe, the "classier" of the city's two daily newspapers, has even produced a nice interactive "mob map" showing some of the spots that figured into Bulger's life.
As the criminal case against Whitey proceeds, we'll have to wait to find out if he cops a plea or honors the gangster credo that all snitches are rats -- unless that gangster is you, or me, or Whitey, of course. It's hard to envision Bulger doing the right and honorable thing by owning up to his crimes.
Whether Bulger emerges as a noble criminal or a dirty rat remains to be seen. But here's one sure thing: Whitey has won a place in the Gangster Hall of Fame.