Wiseguy who’s nobody’s fool
THE Mob might like to think they have a monopoly on cut-throat commerce but those in the publishing industry know there's no bloodier business than the bestseller list.
Former US president Bill Clinton's newly-released memoirs are sure to make an appearance close to the top spot but he can expect competition from another American icon who has a whole lot more to get off his chest.
Henry Hill is better known in his fictionalised form, as the character played by actor Ray Liotta in Martin Scorsese's classic 1990 mobster movie, Goodfellas, the screen version of the Nicholas Pileggi novel, Wiseguys, which was based on Hill's life.
But now Hill is telling his story for himself in his new book which updates his fans on what happened him after he turned state's witness, got out of prison and tried to adjust to life on the right side of the law.
Its title, Gangsters and Goodfellas: The Mob, Witness Protection and Life on the Run, just about says it all and, on names alone, it fairly whacks Clinton's mundane My Life.
The book won't hit the shelves here until late in the summer but, as with Clinton, there's an Irish connection and bookshops can be expected to exploit it to the full.
Hill is half-Irish, being the product of an Irish father and Italian mother, a mix that meant he had to work his way into the Mob while other pure-blooded youngsters in the 1950s Brooklyn neighbourhood where he grew up had admission as their birthright.
He wasn't work-shy in this regard and he fully agrees with his portrayal in Goodfellas as the dyslexic kid who failed at school and made it his goal to get A-grade approval from the local crime bosses instead.
Gambling, smuggling, extortion, racketeering and the occasional murder were on the curriculum and Hill quickly got to top of the class, eventually turning in the spectacular $8 million Lufthansa Airlines robbery as his end of term project in 1978. But even the best of students can be distracted and in Hill's case, women, drink and drugs were his downfall. By then he knew when his time was up in jail, it would be short-lived on the outside too. He took the only option left and turned rat.
In exchange for his testimony, he won the limited freedom that life under a witness protection programme affords. He swapped the city that never sleeps for places like Kentucky and Nebraska, wearing disguises and having Feds for friends.
Now aged 61, the three-times married, craggy-faced, alcoholic, former hoodlum lives in Seattle and although it is unclear whether he left the state's protection or was expelled from the programme for failing to co-operate, he is milking his return to the world for all it's worth.
While still living in semi-seclusion, he wrote two unlikely books, indulging his love for all things culinary in the Wiseguy Cookbook, and turning travel writer in A Goodfella's Guide to New York.
The question of who buys this stuff would be as fascinating to a criminal psychologist as Hill himself but, judging by his sales, there are plenty willing to part with their cash to help with his pension fund.
Going by the messages on his website, his pockets have also been lined with punts and euro over the years although that's not surprising as there appears to be a healthy appetite for mobster lore here. The Sopranos (which Hill says is so true to life as to be "scary") features regularly in RTÉ's top 10.
Hill himself is not so scary now. He is skinny, despite all the pasta, and has no real teeth left although he maintains he can still rip steak apart with his gums. He's on a book tour at the moment and although he hasn't mentioned Ireland yet on his itinerary, he might be persuaded to change his mind if an expected appearance by his rival here boosts opposition sales. He hasn't revealed much about his Irish roots but his re-emergence is bound to have a few similarly-named families here wondering if he might be one of the skeletons in their cupboard. Figuratively speaking, of course.
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