Brutal_ The Untold Story of My Life Inside Whitey Bulger's Irish Mob - Kevin Weeks [91]
There were countless times when Jimmy performed generous acts toward those in need, not for notoriety, but because he thought it was the right thing to do. He was an extremely generous guy. No one, except the people he helped, knew exactly what he did. But he thought nothing of paying the rent for families in need, or buying bicycles or coats or food for needy kids, or cars for families who needed to take their kids to school. Many times he found jobs for people who needed them. At Christmastime he’d buy gifts for children and their families, and he always gave money to St. Augustine’s food pantry. If he saw an old lady having trouble trying to cross the street, he’d get out of his car and stop traffic to help her cross. If he saw a woman carrying boxes, he’d put her in his car and drive her home.
If someone was bothering a family, he’d say to me, “Let’s take a ride,” and he’d stop by to help with the situation, as well as to look around and see if anything was broken. If he saw the family needed a new refrigerator or some furniture, he’d go right down and buy whatever they needed and have it all delivered to them. If he heard about anyone picking on girls or mothers who were living in families without brothers or fathers, we’d go down and grab those guys. “Pretend she’s my mother or sister,” he’d tell the bullies. “And then go ahead and bother her again and see what I do. The only reason you’re picking on her is that you think no one will come after you. But I will.”
But we didn’t help every resident of Southie whose kid was being picked on. For example, one woman Jimmy knew well came to us to complain about a guy who was bothering her daughter. “Will Kevin give the kid a beating?” she asked Jimmy, while I was standing right there.
Jimmy looked at her and said, “What about your two sons? Why don’t they go after him?”
She turned around, looked at me, and said, “Oh, no, they could get in trouble.”
“Oh, and Kevin can’t?” Jimmy said. “You want Kevin to stick up for your family and you don’t want your own sons to get involved because they could get in trouble? Sorry, we can’t help you.” And the two of us walked away. It would have been a different story if she didn’t have any sons, but that woman had her own boys to take care of the problem.
Certainly, Jimmy made sure no one took advantage of his own family. One night when he was living with his elderly mother at the Old Harbor project, he heard some kids playing basketball outside. After midnight, he went down and told them to knock it off. When the kids ignored him and continued playing, he went out with a knife and stabbed and flattened the ball. One of the kids started saying stuff to him, so Jimmy turned around and stabbed him, too, opening up his stomach. Then he put the kid, who was in his late teens or early twenties, into his car and drove him to the hospital.
He’d get especially angry when he heard about someone in Southie being robbed by residents of the town. “Don’t rob off people who have less than you,” he’d tell the thieves. “Go to Newton or Wellesley, anywhere they have more money than here. But leave your own people alone.” When he heard about a young boy in Southie who was raped, he sent the whole family to Disneyland.
He also had a strong sympathy for gasoline station attendants. He’d pull in for gas when it was freezing out and take off his gloves and give them to the kid who was pumping his gas. “Keep them,” he’d tell the kid. “You’re out here in the rain and snow.” And he always tipped the kid who was pumping his gas. “You give five dollars to some asshole behind the bar who opens a bottle of beer for you,” he’d say. “Well, this kid is out there freezing his ass off and working a hell of a lot harder than the kid in the bar.”
Whenever he came across a cause he believed in, he didn’t hesitate to help out. Like with Charlie Ross, a longshoreman on the Boston waterfront whose family lived near