Surviving Barstool S4 Ep. 9 | Old Dog Bites BackWATCH NOW

I Think I Found The Worst Boston Accent Ever In A Whitey Bulger Doc

This piece of work came from the latest Whitey Bulger doc to hit cable. Titled “Kingpin” and airing on the History Channel, each episode focuses on…a kingpin (History Channel def hit me with a mad ‘Psych!’ when I clicked expecting to see Woody and Randy). And Whitey was up the other night.

We’ve all seen these type of docs on a shitload of channels. Some cheesy-ass recreations with actors playing the wise guys (#BarstoolConfessions: I auditioned to play Whitey in the Discovery Channel’s version but it went to some guy on some other job.) A bunch of talking heads, some legit. An absolute BUTCHERING of Boston geography. And just pure bullshit sometimes (i.e. Whitey wasn’t Al Capone and didn’t run the whole city, as is oft stated).

I kinda tapped out on hearing the same story for the 845th time but because this was a new telling, I gave it a whirl. And by cable channel doc standards, it was better than most. Yeah, it had the dramatic retellings*. But it also had some pretty prominent guys show up to chat: a couple of mobster journos, U.S. Attorney Fred Wyshak, Kevin Weeks, Pat Nee, and, perhaps most surprisingly, Howie Winter himself. If Whitey’s former boss Winter did one of these before, I didn’t see it. But it was good to hear his take.

After the race-fixing bust that put a major dent into the Winter Hill Gang, Bulger and Stephen Flemmi were “unindicted co-conspirators”. They were as guilty as anyone but nobody thought it suspicious that they weren’t busted. The reason being they were stone cold killers who’d gut you like a fish then stop at Dunks for a large regular and not even think about it. Those weren’t the exact words (at all) that Winter used but that was his general sentiment when he was asked if he’d suspected them of being rat fink fucks. (Cuz, ya see, the FBI didn’t typically put murderers on the payroll for false info and allow them to still kill with impunity. Oh wait.)

What I did enjoy was that they took they’re time covering everything that happened before he went on the run. They went over the various hits, vendettas, and jail terms that allowed Whitey to slither into Winter’s seat as the boss. Also how he groomed that dummy John Connolly to throw his life and career away for some vino and cash never gets old. I think there were 10 minutes left in the doc when Bulger consolidates all his power.

They butchered some things. Like saying Southie is on Boston’s “South Side” which isn’t even remotely close as looking at a map for 3 seconds would show. Some of the pictures were purported to be the neighborhood but they weren’t even in Boston (weird because they did have tons of great old photos). One dude kept calling it “Charleston” and I was starting to develop a tic. It also said C’town was run by people that I’m sure many folks from the era would dispute. Out-of-town gangsters generally didn’t go barking up trees in Charlestown because the place had more nuts than a cumpilation video. And a lot of them put Angel Dust in their morning coffee.

But overall, I enjoyed it for the most part. That is, until Whitey finally consolidated his power.

What the fuck was that? “T’ Saaar-thee!!!”? Huh? I’ve never heard anything remotely like that before. And the idea of Bulger doing that is comical.

Even though it’s only one word, his take gets the waiting period waived for the Bad Boston Accent Hall of Fame. He’ll soon join the likes of Bebe Neuwirth in MALICE, Laura Linney in MYSTIC RIVER, Kevin Costner in THIRTEEN DAYS, Diane Lane in THE PERFECT STORM, Tom Hanks in CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, and many more.

*Nothing is more exaggerated about the Boston Irish on film than the way we guzzle whiskey like we just got Iced. Get the fuck outta here. Like 1 of 50 Boston guys/gals I grew up with, if that, drank whiskey regularly (Bud/Bud Light or die). And he/she eventually ends up acting like an asshole by the end of the night. Some folks may take Jame-o shots (Bushmills for the Prots) to put a little hair on the chest or induce vomiting. But nobody, I mean NOBODY, orders four fingers of that shit neat and swigs it back like it’s your last blast of Pepsi the way you see in every goddamn Boston-set production. Barney Gumble couldn’t go at that pace. Just hand every some domestic piss and call it a day.