The Fighting O'Keegans

by Aaron Kennedy

  O’Keegan paused as all eyes riveted on his fingers, ‘We can get a piece of this city.’

  O’Keegan crouched down, patting the sidewalk.

  ‘This could be our turf, our ground. I’m not saying we’ll get all this today or even tomorrow. But together we can choose what we want and what we take. The first thing we need to do is to find out how this place works, we need to find a base and we need to figure out which of us does what. So that’s the way I see it. We understand each other? O’Keegan looked from face to face seeing their mixture of emotions as they tried to digest what he’d said.

  ‘We’ll meet back here in ten minutes. Anyone not here is ‘out’, if your not back here and we see you sniffing around again then I’ll have your ears as souvenirs. No second chance when you find out how tough it is out there alone. You walk now and as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead. Sod off and I want the men back here in ten minutes. The girls can stay away and get fucked.’

  The men looked started to walk away. But a few had already made up their minds, Shorty staying close. O’Keegan looked him up and down.

  ‘No ten minutes then?’ O’Keegan asked.

  Shorty shrugged, ‘The way I see it Boss, this is the best offer I’m going to get. Anyway, things don’t, I can go solo later if I have too.’ Shorty laughed before switching back to serious. ‘Besides, you and your Pa lived in the next village to me and my kin. We all knew about the fighting O’Keegan’s…if there’s anyone I’d rather be with than against then it’s an O’Keegan. Smart people where I come from back winners and from what I know O’Keegan, you’ve never lost in your life. These Boston guys don’t know what they’re up against but I do, so for now, I’m with you all the way Mr. O’Keegan’

  O’Keegan grinned.

  ‘OK Shorty. I want you to do me a little favour. You remember the Supervisor?’

  Shorty grinned, ‘Yeah, I remember him.’

  ‘Good. I’ve asked him to fix me up with a little meeting. When he leaves the ship, follow where he goes, who he sees, and how long he stays. It might take an hour, it might take a day but I want to know everyone he talks to for more than a few minutes. When this guy beds down for the night, come find me. We understand each other?’

  ‘Yeah O’Keegan., I understand.’

  ‘Don’t fuck up Shorty, I’m trusting you can do this.’

  Shorty raised his two fingers to his cap giving O’Keegan a sloppy salute. Shorty walked away, within moments he had blended completely into the crowd milling around outside of the immigration exit - indistinguishable and invisible even to O’Keegan’s sharp eyes.

  ‘I’ve obviously found that guys calling.’ O’Keegan said to no one in particular.

  As his eyes gave up looking for Shorty, O’Keegan saw one more person who had not bothered to take his ten minute walk. O’Keegan looked him up and down, a stocky, rough shaven man with hands that could have worked just effectively as the boiler room shovels, a man that seemed to have more strength than he knew what to do with.

  O’Keegan thought back, remembering this one had also tried to keep himself to himself just like O’Keegan, O’Keegan walked over to him.

  ‘Why are you not going for a walk like everyone else?’

  ‘Do I need too?’ A strong Italian accent underlying his words, O’Keegan didn’t give it more than a second thought.

  ‘It’s up to you but I want people who are in and all the way.’

  The big man shrugged, the action tightening muscles beneath his already taught shirt. ‘We’ll I’m in and all the way but there’s something I want you to know…’ He waited for O’Keegan to question. O’Keegan raised his eyes, not having any.

  ‘My cousin, Alteri, is in one of the gangs here. I’m Francis Alteri. He and I haven’t always seen eye to eye and from what I heard before coming here, his team are on the winning side of a fight that’s going on with the Irish’.

  ‘We’re not Italian’s but we’re not all Irish either.’ O’Keegan smiled

  ‘But I’m Italian. That a problem?’ He straightened up as if ready to take offence.

  Unruffled O’Keegan said, ‘Not for me, some of the other guys might have a problem with it but I can sort them out and looking at you, you probably can too. Anyway, why do you want to join us, we may not all be Irish but most are? Why don’t you want to run with the Italians?’

  ‘I spend most of my life in Italy before finding my way to England. I might be Italian but most of the people I needed to watch out for growing up were Italian. It didn’t seem to matter to them we were from the same country when trying to bash my head or cut my throat. I don’t see I owe them anything now. Besides, I work with you and a few Irish and English maybe I can get in places and help in ways none of your others can. I’m useful. Perhaps I make more money that way than just being another stupid Italian amongst all the other stupid Italians’.

  O’Keegan couldn’t help it, there was something about this guy that made O’Keegan like him, perhaps it was the smile or the lack of bullshit.

  ‘Makes sense to me. You’ve no problem doing whatever needs doing if the people on the other side are Italian too? What happens if you’re Cousin’s one of them?’

  ‘Like I said before, me and my Cousins haven’t always seen eye to eye. You’re willing to have an Italian on your crew?’

  ‘I’ll let you in to a little secret Alteri, I’m not doing this to end up poor or dead. With the boys we’ve got and the one’s we’re going to get, it won’t be long before we’re going to own big slices of this town. With luck backed up by muscle, we’re going to take everything that we want from Boston and from what I can see, Boston beats any town I’ve ever been in.’ O’Keegan looked around at the skyline, seeing the dilapidated beside the newer buildings Ireland had yet even dreamt of.

  ‘But here’s the rub Alteri, some people are going to get hurt. Maybe you, maybe me. But if we all stick together we can take whatever they can give and take whatever we want. I’m tired of being poor and fighting just to stay standing up. If I have to fight then I want to get paid for it… not a few nickels or dollars either.’ O’Keegan raised up his fists, ‘These will make me rich or I’ll chop them off myself. You’re right. There’s no reason why we have to be an Irish crew or an Italian crew ‘cos its where we’re going that’s important not where we come from. I want people who are smart, strong and who do what I tell them, when I tell them.’ O’Keegan held Alteri’s eyes sure he had his attention, some of the other guys had started to wander back and had heard much of what O’Keegan had said. He went on.

  ’You all understand me? We’re going to put where we grew up behind us, from now on we’re Americans. This stamp on this paper proves it.’

  O’Keegan waved his immigration paper, looking around at most of the men who had come back, the ten minutes over.

  ‘Good. You probably want to know how are we going to do things? Well, we need to be more prepared than the next guys to back each other up, to put our lives in each others hands, to take any sacrifice to get what we want. You were all stupid enough to make me the leader…’ He grinned at each of them, then wiped it away just as quickly as it arrived and was reciprocated.

  ‘…now I intend to lead. You live up to your end of the bargain and I’ll make sure I do… America is a democracy, the fighting O’Keegan isn’t. You work with me and we’ll get rich, you fight against me and I’ll make sure you get dead.’

  Flannery was first, stepping forward he reached out and grasped O’Keegan’s hand.

  ‘Agreed. The fighting O’Keegan’s’. Shorty came next, each man then stepping forward to grasp O’Keegan’s hand.

  All done, O’Keegan showed the first signs of relief, his smile broad.

  ‘OK, just so you guys know there started out nineteen of us off the ship. You thirteen, Alteri, Flannery, O’Toole, Shorty and me makes seventeen. One didn’t come back from his walk. Anyone know who that was?’ O’Keegan asked.

  A hand raised from the group of thirteen.
O’Keegan looked over and nodded to the sallow looking man holding up his hesitant hand.

  ‘Boss, a guy called Weiss. He bunked next to me on the ship. During the trip over, he used to talk about his brother, a guy in New York called ‘Mandy’. Seems he’s a big shot in New York so when you told us to take a walk, I think he just kept on going. Wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t half way to New York already.’

  ‘OK. I said it then and I meant it. Once you’re ‘in’ that’s it, we’re done. You guys choose of your own free will. I’m holding $380 bucks of your money in my pocket. So here’s what I say. Weiss shows his face again whoever takes care of him will get a $380 bonus from me. I’m prepared to pay everything I have if someone ever turns traitor and goes against us. He made his decision. Fine. I’ve made mine.’

  O’Keegan had everyone’s attention, each person was locked in place by his words, his absolute conviction.

  Even the hardest man felt a slight unease as they realised they had signed up for life, nothing would stop O’Keegan if they stepped outside of the group. But as they thought it through hit them that they had finally joined something bigger than themselves.

  Many of them had been bounced around, shoved and pushed until they arrived at this place and time, as a fighting O’Keegan, they had gained worth. To all, right there, right then, it felt good.

  Chapter 14

  To all that wondered past him Shorty was just one more person waiting nonchalantly for someone to pass through Boston’s immigration office.

  He stood leaning against the wall, bored, his face and stance telling everyone he was resigned to being here for a while.

  Not many people gave him two glances, he was perfect Mr. ‘Just Below Average’ with nothing better to do than wait where he was waiting. Someone that could be safely ignored.

  Shorty thought about all that had happened over the last few weeks, sure that falling in with O’Keegan was fate, his lucky break. He had been resigned to arriving in America with little else than his smarts, quick mind and sometimes quicker fingers, tools of his trade.

  As a kid growing up on the streets in London Shorty thought his size a near disability but over time grew to realize it was a gift, allowing him to get in and out of places and situations without much trouble. Shorty was an expert at finding things…things people didn’t want, things people no longer needed, things people hadn’t nailed down with at least two perhaps three very big nails.

  It’s true that he had never really been part of anything like O’Keegan’s crew before, taking advantage of opportunities that life tended to send his way or that could be picked up as he strolled past without getting caught. Shorty instinctively knew O’Keegan could be his ticket to the good life, he was used to making finger fast decisions, this was just one more.

  If it turned out to be a bad one Shorty was confident in his ability to slip away without too many scrapes or bruises.

  While Shorty was thinking he kept a careful but outwardly lazy eye on the main exit of the immigration office for the Supervisor. It didn’t take too long to spot the blue and gold braid of the Supervisor’s cap bobbing its way forward from the back of the throng exiting the building.

  Shorty dropped the borrowed cigarette, stepping on it while he closing his jacket. The Supervisor’s hat arrived at the cobbled street with the harassed purple face of the Supervisor beneath it.

  Shorty watch the Supervisor as he noticed O’Keegan, instantly hurrying like wild dogs were snapping at his heels, head down, moving fast. Shorty smiled, knowing the lead dog a no nonsense Irishman called O’Keegan.

  Keeping some distance so he could join in with the general street traffic Shorty kept the Supervisor in view. He was following more closely than he would usually but he didn’t fancy having to tell O’Keegan if he screwed up.

  Following each of the Supervisor twists and turns down dockland streets, Shorty felt a growing patch of sweat at the pace cursing the fact he had been pent up inside the ship for so long. He watched the puffing Supervisor slow as he arrived outside a green wooden warehouse door, looking firmly closed

  Shorty stopped a block down, leaning against the wall as if he’d been there all day. The Supervisor knocked at a small door embedded in the larger door and for the first time took a few glances around, his eyes passed quickly over Shorty, disinterested, no visible sign of recognition, Shorty was relieved but not surprised, he could have counted how many times the Supervisor had spent more than five minutes in the boiler room on his thumb.

  A large mash faced man who had seen the wrong end of one too many fists poked his face around the opening, looking as much of a warehouse worker as the Supervisor himself. This was obviously not your run of the mill warehouse, this was the place that O’Keegan wanted to know about.

  As the door closed behind the Supervisor, unwelcome guests barred by the stout wooden doors, Shorty knew he had some time to look around, anyone that would care entrenched firmly inside the warehouse.

  Pushing his back against the wall he stood fully upright, no longer the bored slouch, knowing he didn’t have long to check the place out. With quick steps Shorty crossed over the road and walked without looking past the warehouse, quickly turning down a side street as he began to circumnavigate it’s walls. Shorty was all eyes, looking for any weakness, any other ways in but not really expecting any, he knew this was no ordinary warehouse, the people inside even further from ordinary.

  Dragging his hand along the wall, Shorty turned over the face of the warehouse greeter in his mind, he hadn’t seen him before but Shorty had seen plenty of people of his kind, old boxers, old hard men, old street fighters, they were all the same in the end. Perhaps guys like this, men that had been through the same types of lives all ended up looking the same the world over, South Boston or East London, it wasn’t the place but ‘life’ that marked you…the cauliflower ears, the broken nose, the reddened face, joining together under a scowled that said ‘piss me off and I’ll kill you’. The person who had opened the door to the Supervisor was one of Boston’s toughs and unless he was employed to protect the warehouse then Shorty had just found where Meehan’s spent his days.

  Chapter 15

  O’Keegan put the billfold of notes back into his pocket, straightening himself before continuing.

  ‘Right, we need place where we can work from. Who knows anyone here? Any one with family?’

  Flannery spoke. ‘I have a cousin who owns a small meat shop. His place is just off a place called Cowley Fish Market.’

  ‘Good. Go find your cousin and see if he’s got a back room we can use as our ‘office’.’ Flannery smile and waited to hear what was next. O’Keegan had waited for this moment, now was the time to let Flannery and the rest know they only had one leader. The decision had been made.

  O’Keegan waited, no one spoke as O’Keegan drilled his eyes into Flannery.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ He took a step towards Flannery. Flannery looked a little shocked, but then understood. Raising his hand in self defence said, ‘Nothing. Nothing O’Keegan, just wondered if there was anything else?’

  ‘There isn’t. Take Alteri with you, we’ll meet back here in two hours. We understand each other?’

  Flannery’s faced dropped, showing he was being sent off to do O’Keegan’s bidding, no backchat but as he left he inwardly smiled. Flannery had known he didn’t have the temperament to be the leader, too short tempered, as leader he knew the men out to kill him before a month was out. This was good enough. He would be satisfied, at least for now, to be second to O’Keegan.

  ‘Okay O’Keegan…Alteri.’

  Flannery giving O’Keegan a brief wink over his shoulder. O’Keegan turned to the others, ignoring Flannery and Alteri as they left. They had all come a long way since boarding the ship the few weeks before but both knew they still had a long way to go.

  ‘OK. While Flannery and Alteri go find us a base, we’ve all got some things to figure out. Who else knows people here, either family or frie
nds?’

  Most of the hands shot up, nearly everyone.

  ‘Right, we need to find our way around here and I don’t mean a ‘map’. We need to find out who runs which parts of town? Which businesses pay to be protected and from who? Who makes money and how? You’ve all got an hour. Here’s a dollar each in case you have to buy a drink to loosen their lips. But I don’t want any of you guys drunk, we’ve got things to do and not much time to do it in. No excuses. You’ve all had your time and you’ve all made your decisions.’

  O’Keegan handed out the money, making sure each man understood before turning to the next.

  ‘Do it quietly…the last thing we need is to get the locals all upset asking lots of questions. Careful what you ask and who you talk too. Back here in just over one hour. Go on, get out of here.’

  Chapter 16

  Italian immigrants had chosen North Beach as their own, spreading their influence as one family encouraged more to join them until they occupied almost every square inch of their little neighbourhood, their new Italy.

  The same happened in South Boston with the Irish. The last few decades had seen South Boston grabbed, penetrated and dominated.

  Arriving as a trickle before the Potato famine, after it, the Irish had become a tidal wave of humanity crashing down and claiming their own slice of the city, their own Southie.

  South Boston was recreated in the image and smells of Ireland. Stores run by Irish, home rented and in rare cases owned by Irish, bars pouring the same drinks found on the other side of the Atlantic.

  Its true all immigrants wanted what America could deliver but each group did what they could to rebuild the best of what they had left behind and some, the hard and the dangerous recreated the worst.