The Gonz Show: Richard Marinick

You're well versed in martial arts and boxing, and you know how to handle a gun. Ever think of picking up some nonlethal hobbies? Fantasy football can be pretty fun, you know.
Never. That's not for me. I was always into dangerous, risk-taking activities. You don't start out robbing armored cars, but you move up to it. People say, "Do you gamble?" I say, "No, but when I did, I gambled with my life."

How did you fall in with the Southie underworld?
I moved to South Boston in the early '70s, and trained at a boxing gym called the Muni. A lot of the fighters who were training there were up-and-coming wiseguys. I developed contacts. They were nice guys. I still have friends who are gangsters. But today I'm just a writer. I keep to myself.

As a writer, you probably can relate to that Rakim lyric "When I'm writing, I'm trapped in between the lines." It's like prison. Actually, uh, that may be a bad analogy.
But for me, it's freedom, too. I never felt comfortable in my own skin until I started writing.

You wrote Boyos while working on the Big Dig. You weren't handling those ceiling tiles, were you?
No, no. I was a tunnel worker.

You attended your state police class reunion a few years back. Were you worried when they called? I bet hearing "Rick, state police is on the phone" isn't comforting.
Exactly. I was a little hesitant, and asked if it was an ambush. But they wanted me there, and I had a fabulous night. I really did.

A recurring character in both your novels is a Southie criminal nicknamed Wacko, who hates when people call him that. When you were in the Southie scene, was there anyone with a forbidden nickname?
The only person who I knew, and I related this to Wacko, was Jimmy Bulger. No one called him Whitey. We called him Jimmy. If you called him Whitey, you had a problem. He was a dangerous guy.

For the extended version of this Gonz Show with Marinick, go on to the next page...

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