In the Flattery family, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: The in-laws, who married in, and the outlaws, who had no choice. These are their stories, as told by someone who walked up hill to school. Both ways. Barefoot.

Starting as a bicycle cop whose job it was to ticket reckless buggy drivers and overparked carriages, Henry Flattery grew to be one of the most respected members of the New York Police Department, a captain who participated in over 200 investigations and who retired in 1952 with the distinction of being one of the few top officers admitted to the Police Honor League. The high points in the lives of most retired men have to do with successful business deals, with acquaintanceship with celebrities, with the creation of works of art. Captain Henry Flattery’s memories are studded with anecdotes involving the round-up of infamous bandit gangs, the capture of homicidal maniacs, the bluffing out of telephoned kidnap threats. The big names that are noted in his book won their notoriety through the questionable channels of thievery, murder, forgery and arson.

Upon retirement, Henry became a security officer in one of New York City’s leading hotels, and has known more excitement, experienced more adventures and had more close brushes with death than most men will ever read of.  — Front Page Detective, October, 1955

Once the Irish introduced home rule in 1912, Henry Flattery packed up his old kit bag to set sail from Cork to New York. His birthday was coming up and he wanted to celebrate it at sea. In anticipation of what lay ahead and in deference to what he was leaving behind, the good lad went to confession. As the other parishioners knelt in the pews, nervously kneading their rosaries in silence, young Henny stepped into the box and insisted on getting his money’s worth.

The Titanic had left by the time he got out.

Thus, Henry Flattery’s penance began on the Laconia – just in time to see the moon pass between the sun and himself.