The Last Boss of Brighton: Boris "Biba" Nayfeld and the Rise of the Russian Mob in America

Product Information

But he doesn't stop there; relying almost entirely on primary and unpublished sources, the author goes on to expose a web of conspiracy and corruption that extended far wider than even the FBI ever suspected. S. It wasn’t long before he found himself in Brighton Beach, where “bilking the system was widely admired, a demonstration of intelligence and adaptability.

Brighton 1-0 Tottenham: Graham Potter says performance was Brighton 1-0 Tottenham: Graham Potter says performance was

These are Jewish guys who possess a dangerous combination: the willingness to fight—and shoot—coupled with a hair-trigger temper. Century wisely lets his subject tell most of the story in his own vivid words, painting his career in crime as a regular job, with prison just a cost of doing business and violence one useful item in the toolbox.Yes, they were tough, but their intellect, creativity, and global ambitions truly distinguished them among the ranks of American gangsters. Century, the author of Hunting El Chapo and other bestselling true-crime books, thrillingly chronicles Nayfeld’s criminal career in the Soviet Union, where stealing from the state was a main source of illicit income. I'm delighted for the players and our supporters because it's important we improve our home form," the ex-Swansea manager added. On one level, this is a classic immigrant story: in the early 1950s, Boris Mikhailovich Nayfeld was just some abandoned Jewish kid in a backwater city in the Byelorussian Republic of the USSR.

The Last Boss of Brighton, review: a brilliant, blood-soaked

If you ask me about Caicedo and Mac Allister, I love them and they are two big, big players and can be in a big, big European team," added De Zerbi. Most ex-crooks are old bores, their memoirs as soggy a mixture of self-pity and self-justification as any politician’s, but Nayfeld is a fiendishly compelling presence on the page. In contrast to more established organized crime groups—as Boris never fails to remind me—their power lay in the fact that they felt they had fuck all to lose. Century largely avoids the hero-worship that so often mars gangster biographies, but does admit to a suspicion that his own law-abiding Jewish immigrant grandparents might have had a grudging admiration for Nayfeld as an incarnation of the archetype of “the Jew with the indomitable spirit… The Jew whom absolutely nothing could break”.

His brief career in petty theft landed him in a labour camp in Bobruisk (had it been less brief and the thefts less petty, he would have faced the firing squad, like many of his friends). Over the past four years, I’ve listened to Boris describing mind-boggling tales of greed and violence and betrayal.