When My Former Student Drove a Car for the Mob
After high school, Michael attended Columbia University. He’s a very talented guy, an architect in The Architect of the Capitol’s office here in DC. When a government building needs renovation, design, redesign, or retrofitting, Michael’s called. This is a brief and true Michael-Story. Before he was an architect, Michael had a very brief career as a driver for a mob under-boss.
Michael answered a university dorm Job Board advert that said, simply, DRIVER. Next day he found himself in the enormous Manhattan penthouse of a man calling himself Eddie-the-Slick. The Slick’s associates met Michael at the elevator, patted him down, and brought him into The Slick’s presence.
E The S: You drive? Can you drive a big car?
M: Yes, sir.
E the S: Good. Dis job heah is ya drive me round and ya pull over when I tell yas pull over. Gentlemen will get in da car wid me and when we’re finished concludin’ our business I tell ya where to drop the gentlemen off. Dese guys may be officers. Got dat?
M: Yes, sir.
E the S: And when I don’t need ya the job is ya drive my goil, Linda heah, wheaevah she wantsta go. She mainly goes shoppin’. Den ya bring her back. Can ya do dat?
[Michael nods smiles at Linda, she smiles back. She’s in her twenties, a stunning brunette. Eddie’s balding, not so stunning, in his sixties].
M: Yes, sir.
E The S: Ya sure you’re a good driver, right? Cause da last guy, he had an accident. And he lied about it. So da lyin’ sonofabitch he had anodda accident. Unnastan’?
M: I understand. Yes, sir.
The wage was good, too good, Michael said, to pass on. The job was very much as Eddie-The-Slick had described. Eddie would conduct business with police and other businessmen in the back of the car and Michael would drop the guests where Eddie would tell him to go. And he drove Linda all over mid-town.
The job ended, however, after a few weeks when, during one of Linda’s visits to Saks, Michael maneuvered the back of Eddie The Slick’s car, with a terrific crunch, into a hydrant.
A forthright young man, Michael returned the car to the building and, with Linda, went straight up to the penthouse where he confessed. Eddie was having coffee and asked Michael if he wanted a mug. Michael said, “No thank you, sir.”
Eddie The Slick studied Michael, his drawn face and trembling knees. He said, “Thank you for bein’ honest wid me. Dat’s refreshin’.”
He left the room and returned with an envelope, handed it to an assistant who handed it to Michael. “Somethin’ extra for all ya troubles. And for ya bein’ honest. See: I believe in justice. You’re getting justice heah’. Dese damned cars, helluva blind spot. Of course, ya unnastan’ your soivices ain’t needed heah no more.”
07/30/2019 @ 10:58 am
…you’d love the guy (Michael). Or, maybe you’d love E the S.
07/30/2019 @ 12:42 pm
Your realize that most “mob” guys nowadays graduate from college with MBAs and don’t speak in patois, right?
07/30/2019 @ 12:57 pm
Of course. The incident is from the early ’80s.
07/31/2019 @ 11:44 am
My father used to run numbers for Bugsy – excuse me, Bernie – Siegel in Brooklyn before the War. Occasionally, he would drive Bugsy – excuse me -Bernie around town on errands. Back then, Bugsy. er, Bernie, was just another mob guy and mob guys were all over the place. He didn’t really come into his fame until after World War II so no one in the neighborhood was especially frightened of him. After all, back then, they only killed each other.
One day, however, a couple of Bugsy’s – excuse me, Bernie’s – button men came into the candy store where my father and his friends used to hang out (my mother’s mother used to run the store, but this was long before my mother and father became my mother and father) and asked who wanted to to drive somewhere.
Driving around with Bugsy was one thing. Driving around with Bugsy’s button men was another thing entirely.
They asked my father first, but he said that he had to go help HIS mother carry her groceries home and took off.
One of my father’s friends – I can’t remember his name any more but I believe it may have been Bernie too – said he would drive them but he had to be home for supper.
No one ever saw or heard from him again.
Your friend was very lucky. Didn’t they make a movie about this with Marlon Brando?
07/31/2019 @ 12:28 pm
I recall the film.
And my dad was also a “Bernard”.