— Eye on Everett —

He tries to shake down businessmen.”

– The Blue Suit talking to Josh Resnek


The Blue Suit and I walked into McKinnon’s together. I wanted to buy some lamb grill.

It is amazing how no one noticed us. Made me think about reading “The Invisible Man,” the harrowing novel by Ralph Ellison.

“Have you read The Invisible Man?” I asked the Blue Suit as he browsed the meat aisle at McKinnon’s.

“Are you serious?” he replied. “It is one of my favorite books.

He recited the following to me from memory:

“I am an invisible man. No, I am not a spook like those who haunted Edgar Allen Poe: Nor am I one of your Hollywood movie ectoplasms. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids, and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, simply because people refuse to see me.”

Men and women shoppers walked by us as he recited this me.

I was amazed.

“My life with Carlo is hell. He’s a terrible man. You don’t know the half of it. His fakery makes everything worse. Let me recite this other bit from the Invisible Man that reminds me of my place in the world because he owns me,” said the Blue Suit.

“Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.”

“That’s exactly how I feel. It is exactly how so many others inside city hall feel working their jobs every day for Carlo. Mind you, not for the city, but for him, as though he owns city employees. It is pathetic, Josh. Believe me,” the Blue Suit added.

Outside McKinnon’s, we got into my red car, and we drove down Broadway.

“Look! Look there! That guy walking onto the construction site. He’s the mayor’s buddy. I know what’s going on. The mayor’s buddy is going to shake down the builder because he hasn’t yet contributed to the mayor’s re-election campaign,” the Blue Suit said.

Continue reading — Eye on Everett —

— Eye on Everett —

“The mayor has gone gray on me for a while”

– The Blue Suit talking to Josh Resnek


There’s a famous story about Joe DiMaggio, the baseball great, the last professional baseball player to hit 56 consecutive games.

That’s the rough equivalent of hitting red or black each time you bet at the roulette table 56 times consecutively without missing.

Think about that.

“Joe, why do you hustle the way you do in each game, in each at-bat, like a maniac on the field,” a sportswriter asked DiMaggio who was well into his career as a Yankee.

DiMaggio thought about this for a moment.

“Because there might be one person in the stands watching my performance who has never seen me play. I want them to know how seriously I take the game. How I give my all on each play,” he replied.

It is the same with me and my buddy, the mayor’s Blue Suit. I never know how many new readers there are pouring over the secrets revealed in this column. I want them all to know that what they get from me talking with the mayor’s Blue Suit, we come away with a clearer view of exactly who Carlo DeMaria is as opposed to who he presents himself to be.

Many people can’t understand me striking up a relationship with the mayor’s Blue Suit, of having a relationship with a Blue Suit that tells me the mayor’s secrets.

It is, after all, difficult to explain except that the proof is what we learn about the mayor from a suit he has worn for many, many years.

Continue reading — Eye on Everett —

— Eye on Everett —

“I’ve done bad things, but I’m not ashamed. I’m like Carlo.”

– The Blue Suit talking to Josh Resnek


The Blue Suit got all uptight when we passed the police station on our way to Woodlawn Cemetery for a look at the several thousand American flags placed there for Memorial Day.

We were driving around the city in my little red car Tuesday afternoon. Just the Blue Suit and I, with the windows down, the FM radio playing progressive music, psychedelic stuff from the late 1960s and early 1970s.

‘What’s wrong?” I asked the Blue Suit.

“I’ve had run-ins with the police. Police stations make me very uptight,” he said to me.

“Are you talking about yourself or about Carlo?” I asked the Blue Suit.

“I’m talking about myself. I know Carlo feels the same way. We’ve both had our problems with the police.”

“Go on. What exactly are you talking about?” I asked.

The Blue Suit went quiet. He drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly.

“I’ve been bad, Josh. I’ve done things no man is supposed to do. I’ve cheated people out of what is rightly theirs. I’ve stolen money. I’ve done things with the ladies that are way out of bounds. I’ve had to go to court…and I’ve been lucky so far that I haven’t gone to jail,” the Blue Suit blurted out.

“Does Carlo know what you’ve done?” I asked him.

“Are you serious? Of course, he knows. He wrote the book on these kinds of things. I’ve been with him when he had his own problems. It was scary, believe me. The terror never goes away remembering those times.”

Continue reading — Eye on Everett —

The Blue Suit Blues

“Whats wrong? what has the mayor done to you now?”

– Josh Resnek to the mayor’s Blue Suit


“Hey buddy, what’s the problem. I’ve never seen you so down. Did you rip a sleeve or cut a whole in your trouser? What’s up with you? I asked the Blue Suit.

We met for lunch Tuesday afternoon at the Vietnamese food court inside the supermarket on the Everett-Malden border on Broadway. The Blue Suit ordered chicken on top of a bed of pho, with diced cucumber, shredded carrots, and chopped scallion…with a cup of peanut sauce. An amazing treat.

I ate a bowl of pho with chicken and a medley of Vietnamese vegetables, chopped scallion, and oriental spices. Wow! What a treat.

$15 bucks for two.

I paid. The mayor never gives the Blue Suit any money to spend on himself. He doesn’t like taking him to the cleaners. He treats him – according to the Blue Suit – “like crap.”

“He treats everyone that way sooner or later,” the Blue Suit told me.

“What are you so down about?” I asked again.

He spilled peanut sauce on his pant leg. He wiped it away. “You really want to know what’s bothering me?” he said to me.

“Yes. I don’t like seeing you so morose. Did you lose your silk lining?” I asked.

The Blue Suit seemed frozen for a moment as if paralyzed.

Then he let it out.

Continue reading The Blue Suit Blues

— Eye on Everett —

The Blue Suit muses


The Blue Suit and I were eating breakfast at the Sunrise Restaurant on Main Street Tuesday morning when he looked at me and he blurted out: “I think I’m gay.”

I put a forkful of pancake and maple syrup into my mouth, took a sip through a straw of ice-cold Hood’s milk out of the plastic bottle, swished it around a bit inside my mouth, and swallowed. Wow! Is there anything better than great pancakes cooked from a rich batter with maple syrup washed down by a flush of ice-cold white milk? Not really.

“Well. Are you going to say anything?” the Blue Suit asked me after telling me he thinks he’s gay.

“What do you want me to say? Am I supposed to be shocked? Do you think I’m going to hate you like Carlo would if you told him the same thing?” I asked.

The Blue Suit concentrated on his egg sandwich with cheese and bacon on toast – a nice tight little treat which he tends to love. He bit into the sandwich. He raised his coffee cup to his lips. He sipped took a sip of the hot coffee.

“Boy, that’s good,” he said to me.

We talked.

“So what’s this about you being gay? How do you know you’re gay?” I asked.

“I just know,” the Blue Suit said to me.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Take it from me, I know,” he said.

I thought about this for a moment.

OK. So you think you’re gay. Now what? Can we still be friends? Do you need to come out of the closet to Carlo? Will he wear you anymore if he knows you’re gay?”

That’s the first time the Blue Suit smiled during breakfast.

Continue reading — Eye on Everett —