My dad wasn't a gangster, and he wasn't a criminal, but he sure

In a voice touched by memory and irony, Jerry Heller once said: “My dad wasn’t a gangster, and he wasn’t a criminal, but he sure liked to rub padded shoulders with them.” These words are both confession and reflection — the musings of a son who saw the strange magnetism of power, the fascination that men have with danger, and the thin line that separates admiration from corruption. Beneath the humor lies a deeper truth: that human nature is drawn not always to virtue, but to the glittering shadow of it. We are creatures forever tempted by what stands just beyond the edge of righteousness.

To the ancients, this was not a new story. They knew well that the company a man keeps shapes the direction of his soul. The philosopher Seneca warned that “he who walks with the wicked, even if he does no wickedness himself, still carries the scent of it.” The ancient poets, too, spoke of the same — how the hero who walks too long among thieves may forget the sound of truth. Yet Jerry Heller’s words are not of condemnation, but of recognition — the acknowledgment that even good men can find charm in the dangerous, charisma in the cunning, and allure in the forbidden.

The padded shoulders he mentions speak of a time, perhaps, when style and swagger were the uniforms of influence — when men of questionable honor held command over cities and stories alike. To rub shoulders with such men was to step close to the flame of power, to feel its warmth and risk its burn. Heller’s father, as he describes him, was not evil; rather, he was fascinated by strength that lived outside the boundaries of the law. In this, he mirrors a timeless aspect of the human spirit — that we often mistake boldness for greatness, and confidence for wisdom.

Consider the story of Julius Caesar, who, long before he ruled Rome, befriended men of questionable character to secure his rise. He dined with thieves of influence and walked beside orators whose tongues were sharper than their morals. Yet in the end, it was these very alliances that led to his downfall. Like Heller’s father, Caesar was drawn to the glow of dangerous men, believing he could master the fire without being consumed by it. But fire never asks permission to burn. The company we keep, though it may elevate us for a time, will one day reveal the truth of who we are — or who we have become.

And yet, in Heller’s recollection, there is also tenderness. He does not curse his father’s curiosity, nor deny the charisma of those men who lived by different rules. He merely observes the paradox of life — that even those who walk the straight path sometimes glance toward the crooked road and wonder what it would feel like to wander. Perhaps his father admired the gangsters not for their crimes, but for their courage, their defiance, their sheer will to shape destiny in their own image. For in every age, there is admiration for those who stand apart from the timid, even when they dwell in darkness.

From this reflection arises a lesson as old as mankind itself: admiration without discernment is a perilous thing. To respect courage is noble, but to imitate corruption is ruin. One must learn to separate strength from cruelty, boldness from deceit, power from arrogance. It is right to recognize greatness in others — even in flawed men — but it is wiser still to choose carefully which traits we let take root within our own souls.

So, to those who walk in the world of temptation and influence, remember this: every man you admire will leave a mark upon you. If you walk beside lions, learn their courage but not their hunger. If you dine among wolves, study their unity but not their greed. Choose your company as you would choose your destiny — for they are one and the same. Heller’s father found fascination in the dangerous and the daring, but the wise will learn from his story that the true measure of a man is not in the company he keeps, but in the integrity he preserves within it.

Thus, the teaching concludes: the world will always dazzle you with the brilliance of the bold, even when their brilliance blinds. Stand close enough to learn, but far enough to remain untainted. For the fire that warms can also destroy, and wisdom lies in knowing when to reach for the flame — and when to let it burn alone.