I binged four seasons of Boardwalk Empire recently. It has all the usual gangster stuff I enjoy, but there’s also a profound sadness to the show. Tragedy lurks around every corner, and as you get involved with the characters, you feel their pain.
I liked it a lot, but as the body count mounted from season to season, a nagging thought began to gnaw at me: these crime dramas rarely show the devastating effect that death can have on a family, sometimes lasting for generations.
I know this because murder touched my own family many years ago.
I never met my grandfather, because in 1934 he was shot in a Bronx pool hall. The two men accused in his murder, described by the NY Times as a “minor politician” and a “former pugilist” were acquitted at trial.
In the movies, that would be the end of the end of the story, but in real life, he left behind my grandmother and six children. My father was seven-years-old.
Those were tough years and losing the head of the household couldn’t have helped. It changed the trajectory of the family in ways we’ll never know.
The next time you watch a scene of carnage in some gangster shoot-em-up think how each minor figure is connected to so many other lives. It moves the plot in one direction, but shifts the world in another.