Animal

by Casey Sherman

  Although he considered himself an independent operator, Barboza had aligned himself with McLean’s Winter Hill Gang in the Boston mob war against the McLaughlin’s. Barboza and McLean were drawn together over a shared heritage. James “Buddy” McLean may have been Irish by birth, but he considered himself Portuguese at heart. As a young boy McLean was orphaned by his birth parents and was then adopted by a Portuguese immigrant couple. Buddy had been blessed with Angelic blue eyes and a welcoming smile. He was considered to be a fair young man by all he had met, but he could also hand out a vicious beating to those who crossed him. One companion summed up McLean this way: “He looks like a choir boy, but fights like the devil.” Those fights left McLean with visible scars running along his neck and permanent damage to his left eye. Still, he was considered movie star handsome, and when it was time to marry, McLean broke many hearts in Somerville by offering his hand to a Portuguese-American nurse. Barboza often kidded McLean that he would one day steal her away from him. The two gangsters, who referred to each other by the code name Seagull, spent hours together discussing their mothers’ favorite Portuguese recipes while planning more nefarious activities. Barboza was a frequent visitor to McLean’s operational headquarters inside the Tap Royal Bar on Broadway in Somerville, where Buddy would whisper orders to his men while sitting on a stool against a back wall, so he could keep his good right eye on everyone who entered the bar.

  The Irish mob war was not concentrated only in the cities of Somerville, Charlestown, and Boston. The blood also flowed as far south as the sleepy town of Pembroke some thirty miles away. Founded in 1712 and popular with cranberry farmers and horse breeders, Pembroke was virtually the last place one would think of as a burial ground for the mob—and that is what made it so attractive to the killers of Leo “Iggy” Lowry. Iggy Lowry was a bisexual, smalltime crook who had sold his body to the highest bidder while behind bars at the old Charlestown State Prison. Once he was released from jail, he floated back to the softer sex and became embroiled in a love triangle. Lowry was spotted in a local tavern making time with the wife of a known gangster. When confronted by the gangster’s brother, Lowry defended himself by claiming that all’s fair in love and war, as the gangster had seduced Lowry’s wife the night before. The brother stormed out of the bar but remained close by for the rest of the night. When he saw Lowry and the woman leaving the tavern hours later, the brother forced Lowry into his car and drove off. As Lowry tried to fight his way out of the automobile, the brother pulled out a four-shot Derringer and fired once into the back of Iggy’s head. The spray of blood along the interior of the car looked like a Jackson Pollock painting, with streaks of red splashed across the car seat and dashboard. To make matters even worse, the brother then pulled out a knife and tried to cut off Iggy’s head, causing more blood to flow. The brother then picked up his sibling and together they drove to the leafy town of Pembroke, where the body of Iggy Lowry was dumped in a quiet location.

  Barboza was told the story of Iggy’s demise by Jimmy “the Bear” Flemmi, who provided great detail. A few weeks later Iggy Lowry’s killer was himself shot in the leg, not by a rival mobster but by the wife of the gangster Lowry had tried to make it with that night. Clearly, she did not agree with the way the love triangle was handled.

  In September 1964, Bostonians had taken their minds off baseball after an injury had ended the season for Red Sox rookie phenom Tony Conigliaro, who had smashed twenty-one home runs before breaking both his arm and several toes in August. The Red Sox would finish with seventy-two wins, which was not enough to secure a playoff berth. Still, locals were provided with plenty of excitement in the “Irish sports pages.” Iggy Lowry’s murder was the eighth mob murder in only nine months, and there would be no letup in sight. Investigators and mob insiders had very little time to debate whether Lowry’s bloody murder would have any significance on the Northeast version of the Hatfield and McCoy feud. On September 4, 1964, the day after Lowry’s body was recovered from the Pembroke woods, another mobster better known among cops and crooks alike would meet his fate at the order of Buddy McLean, and this time McLean would have help from a most unlikely source—the FBI.

  Ronald Dermody was a son of Cambridge and a former member of James “Whitey” Bulger’s bank robbing gang. Dermody was a hood to the core. In fact, it was in his DNA. His father, Joe, had been murdered in Charlestown State Prison in 1954. Ronnie’s brother, Joe Jr., was serving time at Norfolk Prison. Ronnie had just been released after serving a lengthy stretch for helping Bulger pull off a heist in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, in 1955 that had netted the gang $42,000. Since Bulger was still imprisoned at Leavenworth at the time of Dermody’s release, the gangster fell in with the McLaughlin Gang for both money and love. Ronnie Dermody was a handsome, muscular guy who, like Iggy Lowry before him, had eyes for a rival gangster’s girl. In this case, the rival was a vicious triggerman named James “Spike” O’Toole, who was also a close associate of Buddy McLean. Dermody had fallen hard for O’Toole’s girlfriend, Dottie Barchard, the Virginia Hill of the Boston mob. Like Hill, who became famous dating gangsters such as Joe Adonis and most notably Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel, Barchard was a twenty-nine-year-old German-English beauty who was drawn to the excitement of dangerous men capable of deadly deeds.

  When Barchard began her relationship with O’Toole, she was still married to an underworld thug named Richard Barchard. Despite the fact that O’Toole had fathered two of her children, Dottie Barchard had gone prospecting once again and had become captivated by the handsome, muscular Dermody. The feeling was mutual. In fact, Ronnie Dermody would do anything—even kill—to have her all to himself. After he was sprung from jail, Dermody approached Georgie McLaughlin with a unique proposition. Somewhat reminiscent of the diabolical Crisscross method in Alfred Hitchcock’s classic 1951 film Strangers on a Train, Dermody said he would kill the McLaughlin Gang’s main rival, Buddy McLean, if Georgie would whack Spike O’Toole. With O’Toole out of the way, Dermody would then be free to marry his mistress. The proposal was a curious one, and even a drunkard like McLaughlin must have had reservations. To show his good faith, Dermody promised Georgie that he would kill McLean first. The lovelorn gangster hit the streets to take care of his part of the bargain. A few days later, he opened fire on a man he believed was Buddy McLean. It wasn’t. A civilian got hit, and word quickly spread that the Winter Hill boss had been the actual target of Dermody’s botched assassination attempt. Panicked and now marked for death, Dermody hid out in Cambridge and contemplated his best chances for survival. He decided to reach out to FBI agent H. Paul Rico in an attempt to surrender for the shooting of the bystander.

  It had been Rico who had arrested Dermody years before, after the bank heist with Whitey Bulger. What Dermody did not know was that Buddy McLean was now one of Rico’s prized informants. McLean was one of the most important mobsters in all of New England, and Rico had him in his back pocket. The information McLean could provide against the Mafia was invaluable to the FBI, and to Rico’s blossoming career. These things weighed on the special agent’s mind as he decided what to do. The answer was simple, and it signaled Rico’s crossover from cop to criminal. He told Ronnie Dermody to meet him on the border of Watertown and Belmont, close to the agent’s home. Rico then placed a call to McLean and provided him with the address of the rendezvous spot. Buddy was waiting for Dermody when he arrived and shot him three times in the head, leaving Dermody dead in his car. When Joe Jr., found out about his brother’s murder, he didn’t blame McLean but instead pointed the guilty finger at Barboza. Joe Jr. promised revenge once he got out of jail. The two had known each other since their days at the Concord Reformatory. Barboza never had anything personal against the Dermody brothers and did not take kindly to the threats. The Animal sent the grieving brother a message through the grapevine. Through a prison intermediary, Barboza told Joe Dermody Jr. that he did not kill Ronnie, but also promised that he would be waiting for Joe Jr. on the streets to settle the dispute once an
d for all. Joe Jr. never got out of jail, however. He was later found stabbed to death in his prison cell.

  9

  Ruthless Men

  God help the beast in me

  JOHNNY CASH

  Following the murder of Ronald Dermody, there would be seven more mob-related slayings on the streets of Boston and the surrounding suburbs from October through December 1964. The killings were particularly gruesome, and of course most involved alcohol. Gangster William Treannie, a small-time gangster, was shot twice through the back of the head after becoming embroiled in a heated argument with his roommate inside their apartment on Washington Street in Boston. Both men had been out drinking together for much of the day and night. Treannie was then decapitated and dismembered by his roommate and another man, who stuffed his head, torso, and limbs inside three suitcases and a quilt and then dumped the evidence in a vacant lot.

  George Ash had been out spreading the yuletide spirit with a friend just a few days after Christmas when he met his untimely demise. The friend was Jimmy “the Bear” Flemmi. Ash had much to celebrate and much to fear on that day. The convicted killer from Somerville had just been assigned his secret identification number as an informant for H. Paul Rico and the FBI. Ash and Flemmi had a few cocktails and found themselves sitting in a Corvair that belonged to Ash’s sister-in-law outside a church in Boston’s South End. Ash either said or did something to enrage the drunken Bear, who shot him and stabbed him more than fifty times in the back. According to author Howie Carr in his 2011 book Hitman, Flemmi stumbled away from the crime scene blissfully unaware that the murder had been witnessed by two uniformed Boston police officers.35 Fortunately for the Bear, both cops were crooked. They immediately went to his brother, Stevie Flemmi, and demanded and received $1,000 for their silence.

  If Jimmy Flemmi was on mission to become the Boston mob’s most prolific killing machine, he would face stiff competition in the form of his friend Joe Barboza. The Animal had been told that investigators were still sniffing around the unsolved murders of Harold Hannon and Willie Delaney. Boston police had recently questioned a South Shore bookmaker named Gariton Eaton about the double homicide. Eaton had not been directly involved in the murders, but rumors of McLean’s handiwork were hot in the Boston underworld. The Winter Hill Gang chief asked Barboza to handle Eaton and shut his big mouth. The Animal cornered Eaton in his late model Cadillac on Mingo Road in the town of Malden and sent two .38 caliber bullets whistling through his skull. Somehow word quickly got back to the police that Barboza had been the triggerman on the job.

  An attorney friend called Joe immediately and warned him that investigators would arrest him soon if he didn’t skip town. Barboza took the advice and fled to New Hampshire for a few days. It would give the lawyer enough time to conduct a little investigation of his own as to what evidence the police might have had against his client. When he learned that cops had nothing but speculation to go on, the attorney set up an interview with the Malden police. Joe walked into the station, joked with a few officers, and answered a few questions. Did he shoot Eaton? Barboza shook his head no. Did he know who shot Eaton? Again, Barboza shook his head no. With no end to the stalemate in sight and no evidence to hold him on, Malden detectives were forced to let Joe go. The murder of Gariton Eaton was the first directly tied to the Animal. Barboza might have killed before, but there is no record of it. Now without a doubt, he had crossed the bridge from violent gangster to cold-blooded killer. It was at this moment that he also realized that he had a true aptitude for murder.

  It was around this time that Barboza first met Henry Tameleo, second in command to Raymond Patriarca at “the Office.” Technically, Tameleo shared the underboss role with Jerry Angiulo, but everyone knew that Patriarca despised Angiulo and that Tameleo was Patriarca’s eyes and ears in Boston. The Animal was introduced to Tameleo at the wake for a gangster friend who had been shot in the back of the head—the result of yet another mob love triangle. Barboza was impressed by Tameleo’s subtle power. The understated underboss did not feel the need to project his importance to his fellow gangsters. Instead, Tameleo was quiet, thoughtful, and complimentary to Joe. “I learned to admire and look up to Henry more than any man living,”36 Barboza wrote later in his memoir. Although Joe admired Tameleo, he certainly did not fear him. Just a few weeks after their introduction, the two men met again at the Ebb Tide Lounge in Revere, and this time the discussion was not as cordial. Barboza had just beaten a Mafia associate named Arthur Ventola with a baseball bat. It was in retaliation for an earlier brawl inside Ventola’s club, the Ebb Tide Lounge, where a friend of Joe’s had been pummeled for complaining about a watered-down drink. Ventola was a bookmaker who sold sports betting action out of a little shop in Revere called Arthur’s Farm. The shop was about as big as a two-car garage and offered a litany of goods at discount prices. The shop was a popular mob hangout and was also frequented by Boston Patriots quarterback Babe Parelli and several teammates who practiced at a field nearby. Barboza was unfazed by Ventola’s Mafia ties. He had given Arthur a beating to remember, and now the Animal had one more man on his hit list, Arthur’s brother, Junior.

  Once Tameleo learned of the situation, he brought Barboza to the nightclub for a talk. With Tameleo’s power, he could have sent a gang of men after Joe in order to teach him a lesson, but the underboss was keenly aware of Joe’s reputation and knew that such an order would only lead to more bloodshed. Tameleo asked Joe to give up the chase for the other Ventola brother with the promise that he would always be shown respect by Tameleo and the Office. The two men shook hands and the issue was dropped—but for only a short while. A few nights later, Barboza was back at the Ebb Tide having a drink when Junior Ventola walked in and ordered Joe to leave. Barboza could hardly believe his ears.

  “Henry said I wouldn’t ever be insulted again in here,”37 Joe reminded the gangster.

  “I don’t care, I want you out,” Ventola replied with confidence.

  Barboza did not want to make a scene in the middle of the Ebb Tide.

  “Let’s go into the kitchen, you motherfucker,” he whispered.

  Ventola followed Joe into the kitchen and once there, the Animal swung around with his .38 automatic. Barboza stuck the gun under the man’s chin.

  “Now pull your right hand out of your pocket … or I’ll blow your tonsils out of the top of your head.”

  Barboza was about to kill Ventola then and there, but was talked down from his state of fury by others at the club. When Tameleo later found out about the incident, he put his support behind Barboza and bought out the Ventola brothers’ interest in the club. This show of trust and friendship was something Joe had always yearned for. It was one thing to have the respect of gangsters like Jimmy Flemmi and Connie Frizzi, but a show of support from Henry Tameleo brought Barboza one step closer to his ultimate goal. He had always been fascinated by La Cosa Nostra, but Joe had found himself on the outside looking in. He was Portuguese, after all. He had long been in the frustrating throes of class envy, much like a Catholic or Jewish student at Harvard who was prohibited from joining the best social and academic clubs. Joe had made a promise to himself early on that he would one day be inducted into the Mafia—even if he had to kill his way in.

  The Animal went to work on his career advancement immediately. Tameleo had sent Barboza on the prowl for a hood named Joe Francione, who was supposed to deliver to him a shipment of stolen furs. Instead, Francione sold the furs down in New York and pocketed the cash, leaving Tameleo embarrassed and seeking revenge. A friend of Barboza’s had also been screwed in the deal, so for Joe the contract was also personal. Barboza learned that Francione was staying in an apartment in Revere, Massachusetts. With the nonchalance of a traveling salesman, Joe approached the apartment in broad daylight and knocked on the door. Francione was in the middle of a phone call with his partner when he heard the knocks. He placed the phone receiver down and went to answer the door. Listening intently on the other line, Francione’s par
tner heard him scream: “No, don’t do it!” The doomed man turned his back on Barboza in a desperate attempt to flee. The Animal shot Francione once through the back of the head and then two more times for good measure. Francione’s partner, who had just heard his friend die, marched right down to the police station and turned himself in on an outstanding warrant. He knew that it was better to be in jail than out on the streets within reach of Joe Barboza.

  Barboza’s enemies feared him, and police were frustrated over their inability to put him and his fellow mob killers behind bars. In fact, of the fifteen mob murders committed over the previous ten months, authorities had made only one single arrest in one of the crimes. Boston police commissioner Edmund McNamara threw his hands up over the situation.

  “In killings of this type, where vengeance may be part of the motive, one usually leads to another. There’s no telling how many more there will be or who will be next,”38 McNamara told a reporter from the Associated Press. “And these are the tough ones to solve. Whenever ruthless men are involved, as in these cases, nobody knows anything. Nobody sees anything. Nobody hears anything.”