How I knew Whitey Bulger “He would call, just to talk, would visit
us,” said the author. She’d admitted that compiling a book about Whitey Bulger
hadn’t been her idea, not one she’d ever expected to write.
I listened intently; the man she described was darkly
appealing, a bad guy James Bond. From what she said, it was just as obvious was
that he was brilliant, a masterful technician of murder. When I learned that
his brother was President of the Massachusetts Senate, I wasn’t surprised. ['Whitey' Bulger, the
Alcatraz-hardened king of the Boston ... www.nydailynews.com/news/crime/whitey-bulger-king-boston...
BOSTON — Whitey Bulger was
considered for many years to be the Jimmy Cagney of the Boston underworld — an
Alcatraz-hardened ex-bank robber, brother of...]
As we listened to the author, a woman who appeared to be
living a comfortable life with her husband in the Boston area, I wondered how
she felt about being so near Bulger for so long. She told us she drained him
for details, small things like the color of his shirt, the newspapers he might
have read. Once her book was done, she told us that she found it difficult to
forget him, wasn’t sure how she could sever the ties with him that appeared to
have changed from author to subject into a relationship that almost became a
friendship.
To Bulger, it seemed, she was someone he could trust to be
who she said she was. She was not a threat, nor a danger. As an ex mobster and
informant, Bulger knew lots of people who might have dastardly reasons for
wanted to see him.
I remember asking her about the remnants of her work with
him; were the horrors she was told about impossible to forget? Because I was
hearing them second hand, I knew they wouldn’t bother me. But I also knew that,
as attentive to detail as she was, she had noted how his face changed as he
described the final blows to his victim’s head or the gunshot to the heart or
the stabbing when that was necessary.
What about lingering images of the disposal of bodies and
gore?
She spoke with some concern about those matters, about how
they seemed stuck in her mind. Indeed, I might have imagined that she shivered
at their recall. At last, she said, thoughtfully, that she didn’t want to write
about anyone like Whitey ever again.
Writers probably say that about many topics they tackle, not
just those that are gruesome. I know I do. Even so, ideas do recycle in
different ways, appear less unappetizing when time provides less daunting
perspectives.
That’s why I checked Barnes and Noble for books on Bulger. I
wanted to find hers, hoped to see she’d relented and had written a follow-up,
especially since Bulger’s diaries or journals had been discovered. I had to
wonder whether she’d been the one who’d encouraged him to store his
bloodstained memories that way.
But I didn’t have any luck. Instead, I saw 25 books
listed; only one was written by a woman. I don’t think she was the author I had
heard. Could it be that, like the Bulger witness who was recently found dead,
that my mystery author has disappeared too. [Bulger Witness Found Dead - ABC News abcnews.go.com/US/bulger-witness-found-dead/story?id=...SLIDESHOW:
Whitey Bulger's weapons and stash. Rakes comes from a storied
South Boston family. ... FLDS Escapee Builds New Life Outside Warren
Jeffs' Control.]
Please believe me, I’m trying to find out. At times, not
knowing can be just as troublesome as first hand knowledge. So my search goes
on...
B.Koplen 7/20/13
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