“Brendan Doherty & Joe Broadmeadow’s new book “ It’s just the way it was “ a gripping in-depth, insider point of view from the lawman who saw it all. The Federal Hill politics of the street law & order were decided with the barrel of a gun, will never be told better… “
In It’s Just the Way It Was: Inside
the War on the New England Mob and other stories, Joe
Broadmeadow and Brendan Doherty take you inside the investigations, covert
surveillances, and murky world of informants in the war against Organized
Order your copy today!
“Brendan Doherty & Joe Broadmeadow’s new book “ It’s Just the Way It Was ” is a gripping in-depth, insider point of view from the lawman who saw it all. The Federal Hill politics of the street law & order, decided with the barrel of a gun, will never be told better…”
Joe Pantoliano Ralphie Cifaretto from TheSoprano’s.
October 11th Barrington Books Retold, Cranston, RI 6:00 p.m
October 17th MCTs Tavern, Cumberland, RI 5:00 p.m.
Read an except from the upcoming book by Joe Broadmeadow and Brendan Doherty. Go inside with investigators who infiltrated the mob. Sit with the detectives as they monitor wiretaps. Come face to face with some of the most notorious mobsters who stalked the streets of Providence, Boston, and New York.
Pre-order the Kindle version here, before the release date price increase.
Chapter 3 Grundy’s Gym
In 1978, Brendan walked in the door of Grundy’s Gym in Central Falls, Rhode Island. The experience here would have a lifelong impact on Brendan. Something he could never imagine when he first went in.
It was a real boxing gym, not a studio with mirrors where guys hit the
bag and brag to girls that they’re fighters. Like most hard-core boxing gyms,
it didn’t have the luxury of a quality cleaning service.
Pungent sweat, punctuated by the snap of leather on leather, engulfed
you. Grunts, groans, and the shouts of trainers added to the mix. Marinated in
the blood, sweat, and tears from years of boxers chasing glory, the building held
the echoes of dreams, despair, and determination.
It was where the thrill of victory rarely interrupted the agony of defeat.
Most guys were just happy to survive. It was all part of the less glamorous
reality of the boxing world.
Old fight promotion posters and pictures of boxers covered the walls. Fighters
who never made it to the main bout yet showed enough heart to earn a place on
that wall. Making the wall was an accomplishment, perhaps their only one, but
here it meant something.
Dried blood stains covered the floor of the ring, known as the canvas, serving
as reminders of bouts that went beyond sparring. There was no Rocky-style soundtrack
to underscore the punishing pain. The dingy walls, gray shades of age, echoed
and amplified the sounds. It wasn’t music, but it held a certain charm to those
immersed in the sport. The only color, besides the boxing trunks, was the
purplish-red splotches on bruised bodies.
This place was the real deal.
The owner, Bob Grundy, who later became like an uncle to Brendan, was a
character out of central casting for a tough guy movie. He was a Marine Raider
in World War II, fighting in the extended operation on Guadalcanal, considered
the turning point of the war in the Pacific. He came up the hard way, born and
raised in a one-room, cold-water flat in the Darlington section of Pawtucket,
He worked hard, opened his own construction company, and did well. He was
a generous man who gave back to his community. He started his gym after the
Notre Dame Boxing Club closed. Bob understood the gym was the only thing
between jail and the streets for some young men.
Bob charged no one for membership.
The gym was free if you comported yourself like a gentleman. It was an exciting
mix of characters, including ex-cons, pro fighters, cops, and con men.
If Grundy’s gym was the real deal, the authenticity came from Bob Grundy. Bob’s son, Peter, a football star at Bishop Feehan who later became one hell of a fighter, introduced Brendan to the place…
“On March 14, 1986, a dark, cold, and quiet night in Providence, Rhode Island, an ex-con with a penchant for violence, dropped into a local bar. He didn’t realize he’d just entered lion territory, and the lions were hunting…”
It’s Just the Way It Was by Joe Broadmeadow and Brendan Doherty
Thus begins the opening lines of a soon to be released book, It’s Just the Way It Was: Inside the War on the New England Mob and other stories, by Joe Broadmeadow and Brendan Doherty.
In It’s Just the Way It Was: Inside the War on the New England Mob and other stories, Joe Broadmeadow and Brendan Doherty take you inside the investigations, covert surveillances, and murky world of informants in the war against Organized Crime.
no mistake about it, it was a war targeting the insidious nature of the mob and
their detrimental effect on Rhode Island and throughout New England.
the book reveals the extensive nature of Organized Crime throughout the United
the opening moments detailing a mob enforcer’s near death in a hail of gunfire to
the potentially deadly confrontation between then Detective Brendan Doherty and
a notorious mob associate, Gerard Ouimette, this book puts you right there in
books on the mob tell a sanitized story from the point of view of guys who
relished their time as mobsters. As Nicholas Pileggi, author of “Wiseguys,”
put it, “most mob books are the
egomaniacal ravings of an illiterate hood masquerading as a benevolent godfather.”
This is not that kind of
book. This is just the way it was.
Many Americans have a macabre fascination with Organized Crime, the mob, or the Mafia depending on your preference. Rhode Islanders cling to the myth of Organized Crime like the memory of their first love. They’ve forgotten the pain of loss, clutching the pasteurized reminisces of infatuation. The mesmerizing allure of benevolent mob figures ruling the streets of Providence is a fallacy disproven by reality.
For a time in Rhode Island, two governments ran the state. One was elected by the voters. The other was a shadow government, unelected but more powerful, controlled by the mob under the leadership of Raymond L.S. Patriarca.
One ran for office every two years. The only limitation on Patriarca’s rule was mortality. Yet the organization continued after his death.
The constancy of change has taken its toll on the mob. The bodies dug up today are skeletons buried decades ago. The gunfire on the streets of the city is between rival gang members. Loosely affiliated drug distribution rings, lacking the organization of “this thing of ours,” now rule the streets.
But Rhode Island misses its first love, longing for a return to their days of self-deception. The mob has always been a promise more gorgeous than its realization, but many did not care.
The most telling sign of Rhode Island’s misplaced affection is the continuing fascination with the Mafia and the persistent myth of what they were.
Hollywood painted a noble veneer on the Mafia and gave us The Godfather, Goodfellas, and the Sopranos. They wrapped murder, extortion, hijacking, and loan sharking with catchy phrases and comic banter, making them appear legitimate.
People believed they were safer living under the ‘protection’ of the Mafia, ignoring their corrupting the courts, the cops, and government. Because they could leave their doors unlocked, they accepted paying more taxes because of mob-controlled contracts for construction, trash collection, and myriad other services.
The workingman on the way home could stop at the local bar and wager his family’s future on horse races whose outcome the mob dictated.
And people were okay with that.
When the money wasn’t there to cover the bet, the leg breakers came.
And they were okay with that.
When the mob ran a successful publicity campaign hiding their involvement in drugs, then flooded the country with heroin produced in mob-run laboratories or facilitated the rise of the cocaine business, people were okay with that.
Today’s Mafia may be diminished, but they are not dead. They’ve evolved like a malignant tumor sending out tentacles into new areas of society. They’ve branched out into new scams; gas tax fraud, online gambling, and wind power subsidies fraud while maintaining their hold on many labor unions.
The targets may have changed, the tactics have not. We can learn from the past once we strip away the fallacy of honor and respect.
The recent show, Crimetown (www.crimetownshow.com Season 1), unmasked the reach of corruption by the mob when it laid bare the infiltration of city departments and personnel under the Cianci administration.
In an upcoming book, Choices: You Make ‘em You Own ‘em, (Amazon.com) Jerry Tillinghast, one of the most recognized names of the Patriarca era, unmasks the reality of life within organized crime and the cost to us all.
I wrote the book with Jerry to understand the realities of how people follow such a path. I discovered much I did not expect. A troubling aspect of those years is how even well-intentioned efforts to curtail the mob can subvert the course of Justice.
Rhode Island’s misplaced affection for organized crime cost the people of Rhode Island. It is time to put it into perspective. To recognize that the reality of the mob is masked by misconception and willful self-deception.
A story forty years in the making is about to be told. Writing this book with Jerry Tillinghast was an unexpected journey into the murky myth of organized crime. It is a story that will anger some, sadden others, but enlighten most about a long-held misconception of La Cosa Nostra, “this thing of ours.”
In a remarkably personal and intimate story, Jerry Tillinghast talks about his life and the choices he made.
Battling alongside his brothers on the streets of Providence. Enlisting in the United States Marine Corps, fighting in Vietnam, and becoming a victim of the politics of that war. Returning to Providence as an angry young man and his choice to hang with the wise guys.
The cost of his reputation as a “feared mob enforcer” and the effect on his family. Meeting Raymond L.S. Patriarca, the notorious head of New England Organized Crime family, and how he came to embrace him as a father figure.
He reveals the inside story of the two of the most infamous cases in Rhode Island history; BondedVault and the George Basmajian Homicide.
Jerry was found not guilty after the Bonded Vault trial, but his luck ran out with the Basmajian murder. Convicted with Jerry was his brother, Harold Tillinghast. Since the moment of their arrest, Jerry has said just one thing.
Harold wasn’t in the car.
Jerry Tillinghast, a featured character on the Crimetown podcast, one of the most downloaded podcasts in the world, tells his life story with honesty and emotion. Setting the record straight after forty years of silence.
Silent no more…
Now available at the pre-release price of $2.99 for Kindle, the long-awaited story of Jerry Tillinghast as only he could tell it. Click here for the Amazon link. Order it before the price jumps on release date and stay tuned for more formats and deals as they become available. Sign up for my email list and win one of five signed first edition print copies and the ebook version. Click here for the signup form.
Jerry Tillinghast talks about his life and the choices he made.
Battling alongside his brothers on the streets of Providence.
Enlisting in the United States Marine Corps, fighting in Vietnam, and becoming a victim of the politics of that war.
His return to Providence an angry young man and his choice to hang with the wiseguys.
His reputation as a “feared mob enforcer” and the effect on his family.
Meeting Raymond L.S. Patriarca and how he came to embrace him as a father figure.
His brushes with the law and the two most infamous cases he is
forever linked to;
Bonded Vault and the George Basmajian Homicide
Silent no more…
Check out my website for my other books and exciting news on book signings and upcoming appearances.