Edward J. Mackenzie Jr. - Street Soldier. My Life as an Enforcer for Whitey Bulger and the Boston Irish Mob

From Eddie
For Courtney, Lauren, Devin, Kayla, Danny, and Brittany.
That was then and this is now. We all change in time,
but my love and devotion to you will never falter.

From Phyllis
For Adam and Amy and Josh and Chalese

I t was a December afternoon in 1975, when I first heard about Eddie MacKenzie. Rosario Rosie La Monica was calling from his place at the Middlesex House of Correction, aka Billerica. Rosie had been my client for a few years. Predictably, he was calling for a favor. Hey, Al, I gotta ask you for a little help on a matter, Rosie said. I met this kid here; solid kid, young and not wise to the system. And hes getting screwed. Arent they all?

Rosie told me that this kid, one Eddie MacKenzie, eighteen, was looking at a disposition for three nighttime felonies. His court-appointed attorney was offering eight to ten years at the states maximum security facility at Walpole as a good deal. I told Rosie to have this Eddie Mac give me a call.

Eddie and I talked for a long time. Then I made a few calls to the authorities. I found out Eddie Mac was from South Boston, without family or identity, and had grown up knocking around not on the streets, but in the alleys, his brother in tow. After one of Eddies friends dropped off a small visit retainer, I headed to Billerica to meet the kid.

I must admit he looked the part of a burgeoning street soldier. Not tall, about 510, but built like a pit bull. He had these icy blue eyes and high cheekbones. Good looking in a menacing sort of way. He was very serious and all business. We got to talking, and I learned about his life. Eddie Mac had lived a brutal existence, including an early childhood of abuse and neglect. After I left the prison, I went to work. I determined early that Eddie was not ready for prime timeWalpole State Prison. He robbed at night, but there were no weapons involved and no one was home at the houses he hit.

By the time the case went to court, I was able to find the subtle defects in the indictments, and Ed walked out with time served (fifty-eight days). So began our nearly thirty-year relationship. Id like to tell you that we have been merely friends all that time. But, of course, weve been lawyer and client for a good portion of this period. I am pleased to say that, during these years, Ed was never in jail, other than for bail and on the final disposition of the 1990 Whitey Bulger cocaine blast.

From the beginning I was intrigued by Eddie Macs remarkable nature. I followed his career in the ring as a boxer and then as a champion kick-boxer, and, out of the ring, as a loving father and failed husband. His gentleness with his daughters, whose number quickly grew to five, showed a doting fathers sweet side and contrasted sharply with the vicious man in the ring and on the streets.

I watched, often awestruck, as Eddie the street soldier put his fighting ability to good use. One of my favorite stories happened the night a manager at Houlihans, a Boston bar, called in Eddie because some Boston College football players were getting out of hand after their victory over Notre Dame. The college guys had started to separate beautiful women from men who weighed less than they did. Eddie had just won his second consecutive national kickboxing victory and was a fierce street fighter. Now, lets all have a pleasant evening here, Eddie calmly suggested to the four BC linemen, each of whom weighed in at least 225 with no body fat.

One of the players made the nearly fatal error of mistaking Eddies immense chest size for a flabby gut, calling out Hey, Fattie, while his pal doubled the mistake by putting a hand on Eddies shoulder and patting him as if he were a cocker spaniel. Suddenly, Eddie lifted his right foot and placed it on the first linebackers temple, instantly knocking him out. Before the other three could react, Eddie had spun around with a heel kick and dropped the second. He then slipped under a punch thrown by the third and came up with a vicious left hook. In less than sixty seconds, three BC football players were out cold. Eddie looked at the sole remaining player and said, Sorry, buddy, but I think its time you get your friends and leave.

I also knew that Eddie used his fighting abilities in the seedy and dark side of life, as a mob legbreaker, a drug dealer, a scam artist, an intimidator, a collector, and a lot of other things. But let me say that Eddie, while inextricably tied to the other side of society and easily seduced by the illegitimate deal, is also a good person and intensely loyal. He is a street soldier.

There were occasions when Eddie and I socialized together, which was a rarity for me with clients. But Eddie, who always called me Boss, was articulate and respectful toward others, and I trusted him. Over the course of our relationship, he relayed to me in bits and pieces the tales of Whitey Bulger and rogue FBI agents John Connolly, H. Paul Rico, and John Morris. He knew what was going on. Connolly, now doing a prison stint for corrupting his position and his office, wont find Street Soldier enjoyable cell reading. He gets hit hard. The truth hurts.

That Eddie devoted so much time to young people never surprised me. The hell of his childhood was all the motivation he needed to do this good turn. He admits he peddled stuff that hurt kids, but today hes a fitness enthusiast who shuns drugs and booze. Today, when he tells kids that drugs and booze can destroy anything good they try to achieve, they listen. Ive lost count of the number of kids who received free memberships to his boxing and martial arts gyms.

I do take a bow for urging him to attend UMass Boston, where he obtained his bachelors degree and set an intercollegiate record: he was thrown out of seven consecutive games for unnecessary roughness as an impolite linebacker. He dedicated his graduation party to me.

And Im proud that he had the guts to tell his story and offer a rare glimpse inside a troubling and unsettling world. Its shocking and entertaining and thought-provoking. Im not so sure, like Eddies life, it offers any conclusions or moral absolutes. And thats about right. Because Ive known Eddie for over a quarter of a century and he still perplexes me. He has made too many mistakes to count, but hes also improved himself through hard work and overcome a heap of adversity.

I am proud to count Eddie Mac as my friend. And if I ever had to face an angry mob or battle an approaching army, Eddie Mac would be my first pick for comrade.

Id want the ultimate street soldier.

A LFRED E. N UGENT , E SQUIRE
A UGUST 22, 2002

I f you cant do the time, dont do the crime.

My lawyer Al Nugent used to say that to me every time I called him up with a new problem. Not that this latest problem came as a grand shock in August 1990. Wed gotten the word from someone who worked at the Justice Department. Big drug sting coming up: South Boston dealers going down. And that was me, all right: big-time drug dealer for Whitey Bulger.