One thing you need to know about living in Philadelphia is that not everybody is on the fast track to success. They know it, they realize it, and they’re okay with it. Things like big business, medicine, the law, city government are for others, others who want to put in the hard work or who have the ambition or just are naturally talented. This realization can come anytime, kindergarten, high school, first job, when the lightbulb goes off and the person says to themselves that this is as far as I’m going, so I might as well get used to it. They don’t like it, but they get comfortable with their self-proclaimed status in life. A lot of rationalization comes into play and continues for a long time. As long as they have enough to live in the style they like, have enough for food and rent, an Eagles ticket or an occasional night out on the town keeps them happy. But that doesn’t stop them from dreaming and scheming about better times for themselves.
One thing that is a characteristic of these neighborhood guys is that when they do come into a few extra bucks, they are generous to their friends, local girls, and drug dealers. They like to spread their cheer in the local bars and restaurants. You learn not to ask how they came into the money, it might make you an accomplice after the fact. Let’s just assume that they had a good day at the track.
The biggest story in Philadelphia in 1981 began on a chilly, overcast day in late February. Three out-of-work longshoremen were driving around waiting for fortune to drop in their laps, which is exactly what happened. Joey Coyle, 28, spotted two canvas bags in the street. He scooped them up and the car drove off, but not before being spotted by others in the neighborhood. The bags had fallen out of the back of an armored car and contained $1.2 million. Joey took his portion and started giving it out to friends and family and spending it in the local bars. The FBI was called in and in methodical process, discovered the abandoned car, traced it back to the owner, and zeroed in on Joey. Joey had tried to get the money laundered through some local gangsters, but when the FBI closed in, he took off. The FBI caught up with him at JFK airport in New York on his way to Acapulco on March 3rd. Joey’s dreams of riches lasted a tortured five days. He was carrying about $100,000 when captured. The feds were able to recover $1 million from the three men and Joey’s mother and others who got involved. Joey was the talk of the town for months, with a lot of conversations starting, “What would you do if you found $1 million dollars on the street?”
A year later Joey went on trial for theft and a few other assorted charges in Courtroom 653 in City Hall (a subject of a future post). This is where Joey’s tale gets vaulted to the pantheon of “Only in Philadelphia” stories. His lawyer contended that the money drove Joey insane, that a man of his meager background went nuts when confronted by that much money. And guess what, it worked; the jury found him not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.
There’s more. A year later, in a fit of chutzpah, Joey sued the armored car company, claiming their negligence caused his temporary insanity, seeking damages of $20,000. A judge, lacking either a romantic imagination or a Philadelphia mindset, dismissed the case. The judge blamed Joey’s “weak character” for his legal troubles.
Joey Coyle’s story ended in 1993 when he committed suicide by hanging himself in his rowhome. Although Joey slipped away from us, his legend is one that Philadelphians will always enjoy, discuss, embellish, how one neighborhood guy found his fame and fortune on the sidewalk in south Philadelphia.
Comments