The Friends of Eddie Coyle by George V. Higgins.
This book is considered to be one of the best novels about criminals ever written. The title is ironic. Celebrated Boston-bred author Dennis Lehane wrote the following in the introduction to the 50th anniversary edition which I just reread:
“Let’s start with the title, The Friends of Eddie Coyle. Eddie Coyle has no friends. Eddie barely has acquaintances. Eddie Coyle is our hopeless, helpless, hapless Everyman in the Boston criminal underworld of 1970. He might be the worst guide ever, because he is utterly out of his depth. Or, on second thought, maybe he’s the best guide ever, because most of the people who swim in this sea are out of their depth, which is how they end up on the ten o’clock news or on a metal slab, doing ten-to-twelve on C Block, or hanging from a post office wall. In Eddie Coyle’s world, no one is out to screw anyone on purpose; it just happens that way. No one wakes up trying to do bad or put a hurt on anyone; they’re just trying to get by, and sometimes getting by means leaving a fair share of accidental wreckage in your wake. But rest assured, it’s nothing personal.”
Two points:
This book came out in 1970 which is when I first read it. It was different from other crime books in that there wasn’t anything glamorous about it. Higgins, who was an Assistant United States Attorney, knew his way around the underworld and knew that being a crook wasn’t too different from doing a lot of other jobs, often dull but sometimes a lot more dangerous.
We meet Eddie Coyle early in the book but we don’t know who he is until well into the narrative. He’s a low-level gun runner for what passes as the mob. If you need a weapon, Eddie can get it for you for the right price. Eddie doesn’t really have any friends; even his wife seems a bit distant.
Early on, he’s called the stocky man. Then, he’s Eddie Fingers. A bit later, he’s referred to as the stubbled man, and sometimes “Knuckles” because somewhere along the way someone broke them. Eventually, we figure out that he is the central character. Well into the book, he’s just called Eddie Coyle. It’s kind of a neat touch that keeps you guessing a bit and wondering if the names refer to different characters, which they don’t.
There are several threads to the plot. Eddie was busted in New Hampshire for driving a truck containing stolen goods, and he’s trying to find a way to get leverage with the prosecutor so he doesn’t go to prison. He’s on the edge of the crime world and hears things, so he does have information that may be valuable to trade for a suspended sentence.
Along with that, the book references the social disruption that characterized the late 1960s and early 1970s. There were a lot of violent protests going on then, often with a couple of bombings a week being the norm. The Black Panthers were also in the news, so the law enforcement officials in the book are always trying to figure who’s trying to buy the illegal guns. Eddie’s customers tend to be traditional local criminals, but the FBI and Boston police must constantly be on the alert for radicals who need guns.
Another wrinkle concerns a gang led by minor hoods Jimmy Scalisi and Artie Van, that has been pulling off a series of daring day-time bank robberies with pistols supplied by Coyle. Eddie knows when the gangwill do its next robbery and keeps wondering if he should use that knowledge to get him off the hook in New Hampshire.
I lived through the early 1970s but I had forgotten how much social disruption there was in the country. Some was triggered by Vietnam War protesters, but most of the serious violence was focused on destroying the establishment. We’ve seen social disruption over the past few years, but back then it was on a different level. The Weather Underground and the Symbionese Liberation Army were true domestic terrorist organizations that liked to blow stuff up.
Dialogue is key The book’s strong suit isn’t the plot. It’s the dialogue. These characters sound like real people. There’s a lot of swearing and colloquial speech. Racial references are often crude, but that’s how people talked back then. There are some great multi-page conversations between law enforcement officials as they try to figure out how to nail a crook so that the charges stick. We read a series of staccato short sentences that bounce back and forth as the cops try to find an angle that will lead to a conviction. It’s not always easy to play by the rules and get the bad guys.
Here’s a conversation between Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) Agent Don Foley and Boston cop Deetzer (no first name) at the Red Coach Grille in Braintree, which closed decades ago. Foley is trying to figure out if there’s a Black Panthers connection to the gun sales.
A bulky black man wearing a double-breasted blue silk suit came into the bar and paused for an instant. Foley stood up and waved him over.
“Deetzer,” Foley said, “how goes the battle for equal rights?”
“We’re definitely losing,” the black man said. “This morning I told her I wouldn’t be home for dinner, and now I got to empty the garbage for three months, and take the kids to the zoo Saturday.”
“What do you hear, Deetzer old man,” Foley said.
“I hear they serve a drink here now and then,” the black man said. “Can I get one of those?”
Foley signaled the waitress and pointed to his glass. Then he raised two fingers. “Are we eating here, Foles?” the black man said.
“Might as well,” Foley said. “I could use a steak.”
“Is uncle paying?” the black man said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Foley said.
“I’m beginning to remember hearing some things now,” the black man said. “What shall we talk about?”
Again, it’s not profound but it is snappy dialogue that rings true.
The following conversation is by two law enforcement guys, including Foley, who are trying to figure out what to charge in a case where an illegal gun sale was almost made. Someone tipped off the cops who staked out the sales location. Unfortunately, they were spotted by Jackie Brown, the guy with the guns.
The sale did not happen. They did arrest Jackie, but without the actual sale, they had no basis for opening his trunk. They were tipped off, but the rat probably won’t testify since he wants to stay alive.
“Well,” Foley said, “we got a choice. We could let him think the kids in the VW bus did it.” (Bob’s Note: “It” is referring to tipping off the cops.)
“He going to believe that?” Waters said.
“Probably not,” Foley said. “He might, but probably not.”
“So why do it?” Waters said.
“To get their names,” Foley said. “I’m not saying this is what we ought to do. I’m just saying, we could.”
“You get the license number on the bus?” Waters said.
“Yeah,” Foley said.
“Sooner or later that’s going to tell us who was in it, right?” Waters said.
Likely,” Foley said, “unless it’s stolen.”
“Assume it’s not,” Waters said, “what have we got?”
“The names,” Foley said.
“And for evidence we can show they drove the bus to the railroad station,” Waters said. “Is that a federal crime, to drive a bus to the railroad station?”
“To buy machine guns, sure,” Foley said.
“Who’s going to say that?” Waters said.
“Jackie Brown,” Foley said.
“Suppose he doesn’t,” Waters said.
“Nobody,” Foley said. “Nobody in the world.”
“You still got a federal crime?” Waters said.
“Sure,” Foley said. “Sure,” Waters said, “but you can’t prove it, is all.”
“Right,” Foley said.
“Next question,” Waters said
This goes on for two more pages as they try to figure out how to put the almost-gun-seller away.
As the novel progresses, Eddie gets more nervous about his New Hampshire court date that will send him to federal prison for a spell. He’s getting desperate to make a deal so that he skips the behind-bars situation. Eddie has a long-standing relationship with ATF Agent Foley and they talk a lot. Eddie decides to have a serious sit-down with Foley to place his cards on the table.
Eddie Coyle said nothing while his wife left the kitchen. In a while he could hear the shower running. He picked up the telephone. “This is Eddie,” he said, when Foley came on the line. “Look, I gotta talk to you.”
“So talk,” Foley said. “I’m listening.”
“You gotta do something,” Coyle said. “I want you to do something for me, all right?”
“First, I want to hear what it is,” Foley said. “Then I want to know why. You got this problem remembering what’s in the deal and what isn’t, I seem to recall.”
“Look,” Coyle said, “never mind that shit. I want you to call New Hampshire and ask him, would it be enough if I was to give you the guys that’re robbing the banks, there?”
“What guys,” Foley said, “what banks?”
“You know what guys and you know what banks,” Coyle said. “I’m not saying I’m gonna do it, now, you understand. I just wanta know, would that do it if I did?”
“Suppose it will,” Foley said. “Are you gonna do it?”
“I dunno,” Coyle said. He held up his left hand and studied it. “I can think of safer things to do. I dunno. I just want to know, what happens if I decide to, does that get me off the hook.”
“Look,” Foley said, “I’ll ask him. That’s all I can do.”
“All right,” Coyle said. “Can you talk to him by noon?”
“I think so,” Foley said. “I should have something for you by then, yeah.”
Coyle and Foley arrange to meet in Cambridge to discuss Eddie’s information, but that never happens. Coyle doesn’t tell Foley anything. It turns out that someone else has been talking to the cops about the robberies, which led the police to arresting the gang, which made Coyle’s information worthless.
Meanwhile, the unidentified crime boss thinks Eddie was the rat and orders him eliminated. The boss sends an underling to set it up with the shooter, Dillon. They quibble about how and when to do the hit and how the payment will be made:
Dillon said. “I treat a man with respect, I expect him to treat me with a little respect. He knows how I work, what I do, that’s why he wants me. With me it’s strictly cash in advance, no money, no hit. I don’t accept no credit cards, none at all whatsoever. Now I tell you what, you go and tell the man, you say: ‘Dillon’s getting it ready, the car, the gun, the whole thing. He’ll have it all ready to go the minute you press the button. Tell him that. And don’t come back up here again with no money. I’m willing to do a favor for anybody, but I got to think of some other things too, there’s a right way and a wrong way to do everything."
Eddie meets his demise, punished for something he didn’t do.
That fits with the whole point of the book. Life can get messy, especially when you’re dealing with criminals, most of whom don’t have any friends. Eddie certainly didn’t.
At the very end of the book, the prosecutor and the defense counsel are talking about how the system works for a recently convicted defendant.
“After the plea deal, he’ll surrender to the marshals and go down to Danbury for a while. Hell, he’ll be out in a year, year and a half. It isn’t as though he was up against a twenty-year minimum mandatory.”
“And in another year or so,” Clark said, “he’ll be in again, here or someplace else, and I’ll be talking to some other bastard, or maybe even you again, and we’ll try another one and he’ll go away again. Is there any end to this shit? Does anything ever change in this racket?”
“Hey Foss,” the prosecutor said, taking Clark by the arm, “of course it changes. Don’t take it so hard. Some of us die, the rest of us get older, new guys come along, old guys disappear. It changes every day.”
“It’s hard to notice, though,” Clark said.
“It is,” the prosecutor said, “it certainly is.”
Bob’s Take
This was a really good short book. It’s almost a novella. The dialogue is crisp and rings true.
I had drinks with George V. Higgins at the Parker House in the early 1980s. My office at 73 Tremont Street was across from the bar, and I knew someone who knew George. He was quite a character. He didn’t think of himself as just a writer of crime books.
Noted crime author Elmore Leonard, in praising Higgins, said, "He saw himself as the Charles Dickens of crime in Boston instead of a crime writer. He just understood the human condition and he understood it most vividly in the language and actions among low lives.”
The book shows that there is a tension among law enforcement officials. The local police, the State Police, the FBI, and the US Attorney’s Office don’t play nice with each other. Each agency believes that the others are incompetent. That hasn’t changed in the fifty years since the book was written. I did work for a district attorney’s office and whenever there was some type of joint investigation, things often went south.
The movie and the mob The Friends of Eddie Coyle was a fine 1973 movie starring Robert Mitchum. During the making of the movie in the Boston area, Mitchum (who was cast as Eddie Coyle) was interested in meeting the local gangsters as part of his research into the part. One of the cast members was from Somerville and introduced Mitchum to local crime boss Howie Winter of the Winter Hill Gang in Somerville.
The character Eddie Coyle bore an uncanny resemblance to ex-convict William (Billy) O'Brien, one of Whitey Bulger's old bank-robbing associates who had been murdered in 1967, three years before the book's publication. O'Brien, like Coyle, had just been arrested and the newspapers reported that O'Brien's associates were concerned that he might become a turncoat. O'Brien's slaying was never solved, nor was Coyle's. There was some talk about introducing Mitchum to the up-and-coming criminal, Whitey Bulger, but that didn’t happen.
