Whistling Past the Graveyard

We loved Donnie Brasco and GoodFellas, and after leaving the theater, we’d purse our lips like made men. So when the organized-crime book Covert: My Years Infiltrating the Mob surfaced, we were hooked like fishes that sleep well at night. The author, Bob Delaney, was a fresh-faced state trooper in...

By Leslie Barton

February 21, 2008

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We loved Donnie Brasco and GoodFellas, and after leaving the theater, we’d purse our lips like made men. So when the organized-crime book Covert: My Years Infiltrating the Mob surfaced, we were hooked like fishes that sleep well at night. The author, Bob Delaney, was a fresh-faced state trooper in 1973. By 1976, he was beard-deep into loan-sharking with the Bruno and Genovese families and nursing a healthy case of Stockholm Syndrome while wire-tapped up to his balls. What’s a whistle-blower to do after all that mindfuckery? Well, Delaney donned a different kind of whistle and started over as a steely-eyed NBA referee. We figure he was safer squealing on the Mob. Delaney reads some true-crime pulp passages at Barnes & Noble Desert Ridge.
Sat., Feb. 23, 2 p.m., 2008

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