This is basically the view I had of the Pope, only from a distance.
Washington, DC, worked itself up into a rare frenzy this week with the visit of His Holiness, the Pontifex Maximus (Latin for “Greatest Bridgebuilder”). The federal government, leading the charge, did it’s best to get employees just as agitated. I actually received an e-mail that made it sound like Armageddon and 9/11 were going to erupt during the Papal visit, seriously urging us to take annual leave. Others were daunted by this scare barrage, but I proved to be made of sterner stuff. Actually, I just don’t have much leave to spare and thought it would be interesting to see the Pope. While I don’t subscribe to the Great Man theory of history, I do think he’s a very interesting figure, a tower of enlightenment when compared to his two previous, deeply reactionary predecessors.
I stood on the portico of the FDIC Building (across from the White House for non-Washingtonians) along with other employees. Envious of our perch, passersby kept trying to climb up only to be shooed away by security guards. This is one instance after 26 years that my FDIC status actually conferred a specific, concrete advantage (other than steady-paying work for which I’m indeed grateful). It was seven or eight feet above the crowd on the terrace, so I had a good vantage point. The Pope left via the Ellipse exit from the White House instead of E St./New York Ave. as I’d hoped, but I still had an excellent view. It was a beautiful, clear, early Fall day; the vast majority of people were in a good mood (one notable exception being some Fundamentalist nut with a loudspeaker who kept insisting the Pope is an AntiChrist); and it was enough to even put a smile on the face of a hopelessly bitter misanthrope like myself. Grazie mille, Papa Francesco!
How Many Irish Gangsters Ended Up
On the reading front, and actually somewhat related to the previous topic, given the fact that Hibernians tended to be overwhelmingly Catholic, I’m having a fine time reading T. J. English’s history of Irish-American gangsters, Paddy Whacked. English tries to accomplish the ambitious task of writing a history of Irish-American involvement in crime from the mid-19th Century, when hordes of indigent, mostly illiterate Irish fled the Potato Famine in Ireland and came to America, to modern times. He makes interesting points, one of the chief being that Irish-Americans were integral to the development of what became modern organized crime in America, at first as criminals themselves and then increasingly on the other side of the fence in ostensibly respectable positions such as policemen, ward heelers, businessmen and fixers of various sorts. One such that falls under his unforgiving spotlight is Joseph Kennedy. English describes the Old Man’s involvement with thugs like Johnny Roselli in Los Angeles and his shady and outright illegal deals (to include rigging JFK’s election) in great detail with sources. He also addresses Mafia involvement in JFK’s assassination as payback for the Old Man seeking their help and then being ruthlessly pursued by Attorney-General Bobby Kennedy.
While the book is a bit of a grab bag, dealing as it does with a number of thugs, crooks, and swindlers in several locations over a century-and-a-half, it’s a marvelously entertaining read, full of fascinating information. For example, English writes that poolrooms were originally places where people could place money on a lottery (called a “pool” in those days) and that the rooms’ owners installed billiard tables so punters could while away time waiting for results. Although I haven’t finished it, I still recommend the book highly.