Boston Irish Mobster Comes Clean

PW: Boyos [click here to read the review], your first novel, has such an authentic feel. Can you describe the book's background?

Richard Marinick: I strived to make the novel as authentic as possible. I got tired of reading books or watching movies that depicted the organized criminal element in largely inaccurate ways. Boyos contains glimpses of some of the activities that I was involved in for years.

PW: Can you explain the title?

RM: Boston newspaper columnists, in days past, would often use the term when referring to the Irish mob in South Boston and its head, James "Whitey" Bulger. They'd say so-and-so was one of Bulger's boyos. Like Italian Mafia members and their associates are referred to as "wiseguys," Irish mob members in New York and Boston are sometimes referred to as "boyos."

PW: You began to write seriously while in prison?

RM: Two other men and myself were sentenced in 1986 for the masked armed robbery of an armored car. We received 18–20-year sentences. Two years after that conviction, I alone was convicted of a second armored car robbery. That robbery occurred four years previous and for that I received a 12–20-year sentence to be served concurrently with the 18–20 sentence. These were the final convictions of a fairly lengthy criminal record. Within the first three months of my incarceration, I made a commitment to myself to change, get an education [through Boston University's prison program] and really learn how to write. I had great writing professors like Michael Koran, Christopher Lydon, Lou Stein and Harvard University's Munroe Engel, who encouraged me. I owe so much to these men.

PW: Was your protagonist Jackie "Wacko" Curran based partly on yourself?

RM: Wacko's character is a composite. Part of him is the man I used to be, while another part is reflective of my former partner and closest friend, Frank, who was shot to death in the mid '80s during an armored car holdup. I think a lot of guys wrapped up in a criminal lifestyle may, deep down, want to get out, but their thoughts can't linger there. There can't be hesitancy in that lifestyle, because the consequences of uncertainty can be terminal. People have asked me if I have any regrets over the course that my life has taken. I spent 10 years of my life in a cell for my crimes. There's no remorse. Could I have made better choices? Yes. But I can live with the choices I made.

PW: Has the Irish mob changed much since you were involved with it?

RM: From around 1972 up until 1994, the South Boston Irish mob, also known as the Winter Hill Gang, was the most powerful criminal element in New England. There was an alliance between them and the New England branch of La Cosa Nostra. The Italian mobsters held these men in awe because of their ferocity and willingness to kill. The Irish gangsters were the most feared executioners in the Northeast. While I was in prison, the Feds came into Southie and swept the streets clean, shut down the gaming dens, drug warehouses, cleaned out the weapons caches and put dozens of Southie men with ties to Winter Hill behind bars. They've not been replaced. The Feds are still everywhere, waiting for someone to step up to fill the void. We, in the old days were the "up and comers." We were destined to fill that void. My friends are dead, awaiting trial or in prison. I write.