South Boston was James “Whitey” Bulger’s home, and the home base for his criminal empire. It is where he was once mythologized as a protector of the neighborhood, an image Bulger carefully cultivated, though that facade crumbled as the full measure of his crimes became clear.
Around the neighborhood on Tuesday, people were stunned by the former crime lord’s apparent murder in a West Virginia prison. Bars and barbershops were buzzing with the news, though few were willing to share their thoughts publicly. Even with his death, people were hesitant to discuss the mobster who loomed over their neighborhood for so long, killing other gangsters as well the innocent.
At Rondo’s Sub Shop, however, Kim Dacey shouted across the shop: “It’s tragic news.”
“ ‘Cause he’s a Southie idol,” she said, chuckling at the silliness of the question.
“Some people liked him, and some didn’t, but I did,” said Dacey, 29. She used to hear about Bulger from her parents, grandparents, and “his people that are still alive.”
“I’ve never met him, but I wish I did,” she said.
A few other Southie residents were happy to share their opinions on Bulger, so long as nobody knew it.
A man who said he was good friends with Bulger was sipping coffee in Starbucks on West Broadway when he found out the ex-crime lord was apparently murdered.
“What a way to go,” he said. “That puts a twist on things.”
When asked for his name, the 61-year-old said, “Joe from Southie, we’ll leave it at that.” Joe said he’s known Bulger all his life, but so did everyone else in the tight community back in the ’80s.
“There was a big circle, and if you’re inside that circle — Whitey’s world — involved in any type of vice, illegal gambling, or making money illegally, you oughta answer to him,” Joe said. “If you weren’t in that circle, and you were an honest person, he didn’t come in and shake your arm for money.”
Joe said Bulger’s death was “inevitable” but that “he had a pretty good run.” He looked out the window across the street and pointed to a bar that he said was one of Bulger’s hangouts back in the day. “Everybody has their opinion but, you know, he never did anything to me or any of my friends that dealt with him.” Joe said. “If you were on the up and up, you were on the up and up.”
The owner of a Broadway laundromat grieved Bulger’s death. The 54-year-old who declined to give his name recounted a time in his life when he “lived in terror” and was ostracized for being gay. A “girl that lived right next door to me on West Broadway, she used to pick on me a lot,” he said. Then one day someone knocked on her door and said to “leave that guy alone.”
“[Bulger] defended me,” he said, “and I appreciate him for that.”
“As far as his criminal activity, I was a good guy, that wasn’t my bag to be in.”
A 71-year-old man out for a walk on West Broadway said of Bulger’s killing: “It’s terrible — well, not terrible.”
He was not upset that Bulger was dead — not with “the way he lived his life” — but was uncomfortable with the way he died. “There is justice with an execution done in the right way.” Like an electrocution or a hanging. But murder? That seemed like mob justice, he said. And suspicious, too, coming immediately after Bulger was moved to a new prison. “He was going to be incarcerated for the rest of his life. Somebody took a shortcut.”
He declined to give his name because he didn’t want neighbors to know he was making comments about Bulger.
“Remember,” he said, walking away, “I’m tall, thin, with black hair.”
He was none of those things.
A 48-year-old “lifelong Southie girl” smoking on West Broadway said she had grown up with stories of Bulger helping people around the neighborhood. That was the side of him she knew first. Everyone has “different sides,” she said. “Growing up in Southie, we didn’t know what we didn’t know.”
She feels bad that Bulger apparently died by murder. “Nobody should be killed. When God’s ready for us, he’s ready. He’s going to have to pay the piper when he gets up there.” Asked for her name, she laughed like the question was the funniest thing she heard all day, and declined to give it.
Three men sitting in the Clock Tavern on West Broadway turned their heads when they heard “Whitey Bulger.”
“Who’s Whitey,” they all chimed in, looking at each other in sarcastic confusion and disbelief. They declined to comment.
Down at Tom’s English Cottage, a neighborhood pub, two drinking buddies working on afternoon lagers shrugged off the news about Bulger’s apparent murder.
“I guess he got what was coming to him,” said one, who would identify himself only as a 63-year-old welder.
“He was a rat,” said his friend, 52. “Who gives a [expletive]? The best part about this town is he’s gone and nobody gives a [expletive].”
Around the neighborhood on Tuesday, people were stunned by the former crime lord’s apparent murder in a West Virginia prison. Bars and barbershops were buzzing with the news, though few were willing to share their thoughts publicly. Even with his death, people were hesitant to discuss the mobster who loomed over their neighborhood for so long, killing other gangsters as well the innocent.
At Rondo’s Sub Shop, however, Kim Dacey shouted across the shop: “It’s tragic news.”
“ ‘Cause he’s a Southie idol,” she said, chuckling at the silliness of the question.
“Some people liked him, and some didn’t, but I did,” said Dacey, 29. She used to hear about Bulger from her parents, grandparents, and “his people that are still alive.”
“I’ve never met him, but I wish I did,” she said.
A few other Southie residents were happy to share their opinions on Bulger, so long as nobody knew it.
A man who said he was good friends with Bulger was sipping coffee in Starbucks on West Broadway when he found out the ex-crime lord was apparently murdered.
“What a way to go,” he said. “That puts a twist on things.”
When asked for his name, the 61-year-old said, “Joe from Southie, we’ll leave it at that.” Joe said he’s known Bulger all his life, but so did everyone else in the tight community back in the ’80s.
“There was a big circle, and if you’re inside that circle — Whitey’s world — involved in any type of vice, illegal gambling, or making money illegally, you oughta answer to him,” Joe said. “If you weren’t in that circle, and you were an honest person, he didn’t come in and shake your arm for money.”
Joe said Bulger’s death was “inevitable” but that “he had a pretty good run.” He looked out the window across the street and pointed to a bar that he said was one of Bulger’s hangouts back in the day. “Everybody has their opinion but, you know, he never did anything to me or any of my friends that dealt with him.” Joe said. “If you were on the up and up, you were on the up and up.”
The owner of a Broadway laundromat grieved Bulger’s death. The 54-year-old who declined to give his name recounted a time in his life when he “lived in terror” and was ostracized for being gay. A “girl that lived right next door to me on West Broadway, she used to pick on me a lot,” he said. Then one day someone knocked on her door and said to “leave that guy alone.”
“[Bulger] defended me,” he said, “and I appreciate him for that.”
“As far as his criminal activity, I was a good guy, that wasn’t my bag to be in.”
A 71-year-old man out for a walk on West Broadway said of Bulger’s killing: “It’s terrible — well, not terrible.”
He was not upset that Bulger was dead — not with “the way he lived his life” — but was uncomfortable with the way he died. “There is justice with an execution done in the right way.” Like an electrocution or a hanging. But murder? That seemed like mob justice, he said. And suspicious, too, coming immediately after Bulger was moved to a new prison. “He was going to be incarcerated for the rest of his life. Somebody took a shortcut.”
He declined to give his name because he didn’t want neighbors to know he was making comments about Bulger.
“Remember,” he said, walking away, “I’m tall, thin, with black hair.”
He was none of those things.
A 48-year-old “lifelong Southie girl” smoking on West Broadway said she had grown up with stories of Bulger helping people around the neighborhood. That was the side of him she knew first. Everyone has “different sides,” she said. “Growing up in Southie, we didn’t know what we didn’t know.”
She feels bad that Bulger apparently died by murder. “Nobody should be killed. When God’s ready for us, he’s ready. He’s going to have to pay the piper when he gets up there.” Asked for her name, she laughed like the question was the funniest thing she heard all day, and declined to give it.
Three men sitting in the Clock Tavern on West Broadway turned their heads when they heard “Whitey Bulger.”
“Who’s Whitey,” they all chimed in, looking at each other in sarcastic confusion and disbelief. They declined to comment.
Down at Tom’s English Cottage, a neighborhood pub, two drinking buddies working on afternoon lagers shrugged off the news about Bulger’s apparent murder.
“I guess he got what was coming to him,” said one, who would identify himself only as a 63-year-old welder.
“He was a rat,” said his friend, 52. “Who gives a [expletive]? The best part about this town is he’s gone and nobody gives a [expletive].”
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