Organized crime may be the last bastion of the American work ethic.Īs a teen-ager Mr. We learn that the energy level and entrepreneurial drive required to be a successful wise guy is staggering. In those parts of the book where he speaks for himself, he does so with the dispassionate voice of a born observer who prefers to describe the details and recall the prevailing mood rather than convince the reader of his own stand-up behavior. Hill is a find, a bona fide wise guy who generally ''earned'' at street level but who had unusual access to high-level crime bosses. This is not one more self-serving account by an organized crime figure whose claim to book royalties is the heights to which he rose in ''this thing of ours'' before being forced by dishonorable associates to enter the Federal Witness Protection Program.
Hill's life story into an absolutely engrossing book that rings with authenticity. Pileggi includes a matter-of-fact description of wise guys spending $500 a week to serve their sentences in Lewisburg Federal Penitentiary like gentlemen it makes one more aware of how corrupt our prison system is than any newspaper story could. Hill's cohorts over the years included people like James (Jimmy the Gent) Burke, whose children were named, with both homage and hope, Jessie James Burke and Frank James Burke, and who, while in a Bureau of Prisons halfway house, masterminded ''the largest successful cash robbery in American history,'' a $6 million haul from Lufthansa German Airlines at Kennedy Airport. He is working here with rich material and fascinating characters. Hill's version of the American dream is told in ''Wise Guy'' by Nicholas Pileggi, a contributing editor of New York magazine, who has covered crime and politics for many years. Everyone knew who we were, and we were treated like movie stars with muscle.'' He eventually became one of a group who, in his words, ''walked in a room and the place stopped. His energy, intelligence and what seems to have been a general likableness quickly started him on his way to becoming the kind of tough thief New Yorkers euphemistically call a ''wise guy.'' Henry Hill had both driving ambition and a talent for staying alive. IN 1955 an 11-year-old of Irish-Sicilian parentage walked across the street from where he lived in Brooklyn into a dingy, mob-run cab company looking for after-school work.
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