As the rats of the sky flew by them, the two remained. One was to become the Democratic Party County Committee Chairman and the other was to one day be the most powerful labor leader in the state, a few other states up the northeast corridor and points beyond. They looked on now as the widow was led by her family into the church as the tears flowed and the pigeons circled. Johnny Bouchee took in a big "harrumpf" as he jiggled his belt up over his belly as to not drop his drawers for the 12 Midday News. Bobby Eamon looked at Johnny Bouchee as they caught eyes entering the church. Neither one reached for the Holy Water. They didn't want to melt their fingers. Better to be lucky and safe than Holy they figured. It would become their dual political mantra. As they walked together down the main aisle of this immense church, many could remember that this walkway of religion and sacrament was witness to two Popes and countless foreign dignitaries. Today it was for the death of one. Francis Lazarro "Frank" Rizzo, Sr. aka,"The Cisco Kid," "The Big Bambino." He was most assuredly in that gigantic box up at the altar. A massive coffin for a man whose enormity was found in his heart, his ego and his hands which were bigger than meat hooks. People whispered that only Orson Welles had a bigger coffin. Unbelievably, Frank Rizzo died. He did this while trying to get back to the place where he had made his biggest mark. He died running for Mayor of Philadelphia. Did he ever stop running for that job? He ran for Mayor like Fast Eddie eats. But now "The Bambino" was dead. And 64% of the people, mostly the politicians, in attendance that day were there primarily just to make sure it was so. Bouchee and Eamon exchanged unspoken words following their glances at each other. It was gonna be a whole new political ball game in Philly now A Second Irish Revolution. The Big Blarney Screw.