What Kind of Love is This?

The recent capture of Whitey Bulger has captivated the nation, but even more so in Massachusetts where Bulger was born, raised and conducted his business. For years Whitey's family provided plenty of provocative material for the local media. The Bulger brothers seemingly occupied opposite ends of the social strata. Whitey was a career criminal who began his errant lifestyle as a young teen. His brother Billy took a different path out of the the Irish ghetto in South Boston, earning a first class education at Boston College and Boston Law. Their brother Jack cashed in on his brothers' influence over Southie politics and was rewarded with a series of patronage positions throughout his adulthood.

Billy and Whitey both prospered from careful devotion to connections and constituency. Billy's education and connections in Irish Catholic Boston led to a successful career in public service - first as the President of the Massachusetts Senate and later as the President of the University of Massachusetts. The public that Whitey served brought him a different kind of respect and notoriety.

Whitey was mean and ruthless. Anyone who disappointed him in either love or business was likely to meet an ignominious end. His charisma both attracted and repelled. Billy was equally hardboiled but in a politically astute way.

But enough about the Bulger brothers. Their stories are well known and widely understood.

A much more fascinating character is Catherine Greig, the woman who ran away with Whitey. His girlfriend and companion for the last 16 years, she was with him when he was caught and may even have been the bait that led the FBI to Whitey's lair.

By all accounts, Catherine was a beauty who attracted Whitey's attention while he was married to his common law wife, Theresa Stanley. Catherine must have been equally enthralled because for ten years she carried on with Whitey while he lived with Theresa and took care of business in Boston. At the time she began her affair with Whitey, he was widely believed to have been behind the murders of two previous girlfriends and Catherine's two former brothers in law. She was able to overlook these allegations and over the subsequent years she overlooked much more.

When Whitey was tipped off in early 1995 that his arrest was imminent, he fled with Theresa Stanley in tow. But Theresa quickly tired of the fugitive lifestyle so after a few weeks on the run Whitey traded her for the woman who had always been number two. Catherine's twin delivered her sister to Whitey at a clandestine pick up location in South Boston. The fugitives fled to parts unknown. Whitey and his replacement moll managed to avoid the law for the next sixteen years.

When Whitey and Catherine were discovered they had been living a life that was far from the romantic crime lord existence that their pursuers imagined. Instead of living in luxury, they had spent 16 years in California as Carol and Charles Gasko in a modest rent controlled apartment. Whitey was 81 years old and cranky. They had no friends and even slept in separate bedrooms. When the FBI searched the Santa Monica apartment they found an armory-load of weapons along with $800,000 in cash.

It's conceivable to understand Catherine's initial attraction to to life on the run with her criminal boyfriend. He certainly offered an excitement she never experienced in her South Boston neighborhood. There must have been a thrill to being pursued by the FBI and outwitting them month after month. But as the years went by, the excitement of fugitive living must have worn thin.

Catherine's neighbors in Santa Monica all reported that she was a sweet woman who allowed only superficial relationships and paid for everything in cash. Her "husband" didn't get such high marks. He was said to be irritable and possessive, yelling at Catherine whenever he thought she was talking too long with acquaintances. Their twenty year age difference became a problem too and Catherine confided in a neighbor that her husband was suffering from dementia.

So what was the glue that kept Catherine tied to such an evil, ruthless killer? If he loved her he didn't demonstrate it with respect. She walked away from her real life with only a handbag, leaving her friends, family and beloved dogs behind. Although Whitey enjoyed somewhat of a "Robin Hood" image among Boston's Irish population, Catherine had to have known that Whitey wasn't on the FBI's most wanted list because of his good deeds. And a man who has killed 19 others is unlikely to behave with tenderness and empathy, even toward his girlfriend.

Did Catherine really love Whitey with such conviction that she was willing to sacrifice everything to be at his side? Or did she stay with him out of fear that he would arrange for her death if she left him? Or was she simply trapped by the consequences of the impulsive choice she made sixteen years earlier?

Some have speculated that she was the one who tipped off the FBI. If that's true, it would add rich complexity to her biography. Some day I hope she tells her story. It has to be one hell of a tale.

The World is About to End So Why are Men Behaving Badly

May 17, 2011

I find it somewhat ironic that I am inspired to write a blog post after learning of yet another high profile male behaving badly toward his wife. What does it say about me that I find this behavior worthy of comment? I am not sure, but if I live long enough I plan to discuss it with my therapist.

For some reason I also seem to be inundated lately with messages about the end of the world which apparently is just around the corner. Initially these messages pointed exclusively to December 21, 2012, identified by the ancient Mayan calendar as the BIG DAY, but lately the day of reckoning has changed and may be as soon as May 21, 2011, which is just a few days away. If that new prophecy is true I barely have time to get my laundry done before I will be called to meet my maker.

Two days ago the world learned that Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger were calling it quits after 25 years of marriage. The announcement was put forth in the usual innocuous way by describing the separation in terms that made the decision appear to be without rancor and accepted kindly by all parties.

But those of us who have lived long enough to have achieved a certain amount of wisdom knew that the announcement neglected to explain the painful details behind the separation. We were not surprised when the real story was revealed to the world barely 24 hours later. Over night Arnold’s nickname changed from the Governator to the Sperminator. Need I say more?

Barely a day later the sexual weaknesses of Dominique Strauss-Kahn, the head of the International Monetary Fund were splashed all over the media after he was accused of a horrifying rape and sexual assault of a maid at his $3000 per night New York hotel.

Arnold’s transgression with the object of his sexual affection did not occur in such a brutal manner, but the result of his actions were far more devastating to his wife and children. Amazingly, in this era of Facebook and no secrets, Arnold managed to hide the existence of an affair with a household employee and the child produced from that affair, from the media and his family for over a decade. Dominique was not nearly so fortunate. His brutal transgression became known within a few hours.

For some reason I also seem to be inundated lately with messages about the end of the world which apparently is just around the corner. Initially these messages pointed exclusively to December 21, 2012, identified by the Mayan calendar as the BIG DAY, but lately the day of reckoning has changed and may be as soon as May 21, 2011 which is just a few days away. If that prophecy is true I barely have time to get my laundry done before I will be called to meet my maker.

Perhaps Arnold and Dominique knew the end of the world was imminent. Why control your impulses when we are all about to meet our demise? The fate of the world will be known soon. But if we survive the predicted day of Rapture, we can brace ourselves for the next round of doomsday predictions. Arnold and Dominique probably experienced their own personal doomsdays after they had to explain their vulgar behaviors to their wives.

Maybe the creator of the Mayan calendar was just a guy who behaved badly who wanted to cover his misdeeds by implying that the world was about to end. If that’s the case, I wonder how he explained it when the sun came up on that morning.

Fires, Tiger Woods and the Power of Forgiveness

I live in Western Massachusetts where the news in the past week has been dominated by a series of devastating fires. The first occurred a few days before Christmas in an historic home in Millers Falls that housed three generations of an extended family. The cause of that fire was accidental, but because the home was constructed of well-aged wood, it was quickly consumed by the flames. Although the family members escaped unharmed, the home and everything in it were totally destroyed.

Then, in the early hours of Sunday morning, a series of fires were set in a single neighborhood in Northampton. Five structures and four cars were damaged or destroyed. In this case, not all of the occupants of the burned structures were lucky – a father and son living in one of the homes died in the blaze. Thankfully, the arsonist wasn’t entirely successful in his efforts that morning. Three other fires were set but fizzled before they ignited.

I have never been the victim of a fire, so I can only imagine how awful it must feel to literally witness your life go up in smoke. Once, about ten years ago, my home was burglarized. The saddest part of that sad event is that I knew who did it. He was a teenager, a “friend” of my son’s. He came from a troubled home and just days before the robbery we had celebrated his 15th birthday at my house. I had made him a cake when I learned that his own mother had forgotten his special day. I wasn’t home when the burglary happened, so I didn’t feel physically threatened, but it did leave me with the feeling of being violated in a very personal way. Losing everything to a fire has got to be so much worse.

There is something about a fire that draws us in. We can’t avert our eyes even when we are watching the awful destruction it is causing. The hottest sports story for 2009 was the amazing fall of Tiger Woods. The revelation about his insatiable sexual behavior was like a virtual bonfire. We couldn’t stop watching even as his career and marriage went up in flames. We wanted Tiger to do something to put the fire out, but instead he fanned the flames by going into hiding and only periodically issuing cryptic and uninformative comments through his publicist. We knew this was making the situation worse. And still, we couldn’t take our eyes off the fire.

The most fascinating aspect of the Tiger Woods drama was how poorly it was handled. My friend Bill McGee says the secret to a happy marriage is based on the frequent use of four simple words, “Honey, I was wrong”. Tiger should have used words like those quickly and often – to his wife and family, to his sponsors and to his fans. If he had he done so the fire might have been quickly extinguished. Instead his silence poured gasoline onto the smoldering fire until it was an inferno.

There is a great book on marketing written by Harry Beckwith, called Selling the Invisible. In that book, the author describes an interesting phenomenon. As customers, we are more loyal to a business that has made a mistake in its dealings with us than we are to a business that has never harmed us, provided the offending business quickly admits to the mistake, apologizes sincerely and takes immediate steps to rectify the problem. If that sounds implausible, consider your own reaction to a sincere apology. If you are like me the first words out of your mouth are, “That’s OK. Don’t worry about it.” We respond that way because we recognize ourselves in the actions of the transgressor. We make mistakes too and when we do, we want to be forgiven. Someone should have explained this to Tiger. Had he quickly admitted to being wrong we would have forgiven him. Unfortunately Tiger’s disappearance gives us no choice but to brand him as immature, self-centered, and clearly the winner of the first prize in the Worst Husband of the Decade contest. Tiger’s bonfire continues to burn.

A couple of months ago I was astonished to receive a friend request on Facebook from the very same young man who robbed my home nearly a decade ago. He sent me a message asking if I remembered him. I got a chuckle out of that. As if I could ever forget him! My first instinct was to send him a few choice words and then block his account forever, but for some reason I decided to accept his offer to be his friend. He lives in California now, where he went to look for a career as a model. He has a young daughter and he proudly pointed to her pictures. Since then we have had occasional email exchanges. Nothing important or profound is said. They are just the little messages that keep people in touch who live a continent apart. Neither of us has mentioned the robbery because we don’t need to do so. His reaching out to friend me was his apology and my acceptance was the forgiveness we both needed.

I hope someone explains to Tiger that he has the ability to snuff out his public relations bonfire by apologizing sincerely, loudly and often. He has to tell us that he doesn’t want to be the tabloid Tiger Woods and that he is prepared to do whatever it takes to earn our admiration as a disciplined, devoted husband and the best golfer in the world. And if he does, we just may forgive him.


Written by Rebecca Caplice
December 28, 2009