In recent weeks, many Americans have been following the story of Luigi Mangione—the alleged murderer of United HealthCare CEO Brian Thompson—and the flattering photos of Mangione that the media and authorities continue to publish. Luigi Mangione’s story and his looks have drawn a lot of attention. In the 1930s, many Americans were following the story of “Pretty Boy Floyd.” He was a bank robber, an outlaw, and something of a folk hero. Not only did he rob banks, he also killed people, but, according to lore, he also burned mortgage documents when he robbed banks, helping out the little guy. In the midst of the Great Depression, many people were cheering for Floyd. They saw him as someone like themselves—he had his back up against the wall and was fighting his way out of a hard time and a bad system.
Woody Guthrie wrote what is probably the most famous song about Floyd, titled “Pretty Boy Floyd the Outlaw.” The lyrics go a long way to explaining the way in which people loved this murderer and bank robber:
If you’ll gather ’round me, children,
A story I will tell
‘Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.
It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.
There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An’ his wife she overheard.
Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.
Then he took to the trees and timber
Along the river shore,
Hiding on the river bottom
And he never come back no more.
Yes, he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.
But a many a starvin’ farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.
Others tell you ’bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand-dollar bill.
It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:
“Well, you say that I’m an outlaw,
You say that I’m a thief.
Here’s a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.”
Yes, as through this world I’ve wandered
I’ve seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.
And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won’t never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.
In many ways, Pretty Boy Floyd is a cultural forebear of Luigi Mangione. Mangione is alleged to have shot a man in cold blood. But I’ve been asked many times in the last few weeks, “Do you support Luigi Mangione?” And others around me have said “even if he deserved it, I don’t believe in murder.” It’s pretty clear that for many Americans, especially many younger Americans, Woody Guthrie’s lines resonate: “Some will rob you with a six-gun,/And some with a fountain pen.” Healthcare CEOs may not kill people but healthcare companies do deny claims and that can be a death sentence. Almost everyone knows someone whose cancer treatments were/are not fully covered by their health insurance, but we don’t all know someone who has been held up at gunpoint for their chemo. As Guthrie sang, “you won’t never see an outlaw/Drive a family from their home.” The people rooting for Luigi Mangione are sure they personally have nothing to fear from him or anyone like him.
For those who are shocked by the support for Luigi Mangione, it may be easy to miss the point. The persistence of the media and authorities in publishing images of Mangione that reinforce him as photogenic and sympathetic is surely increasing some of his following. But the support for Mangione is not based on looks alone or even on whatever ideology we will settle on associating with him. It’s hard for his supporters to listen to objections about “the dignity of human life” when people have seen how little that dignity is taken into accounting by insurance companies. And the underlying resentment and rage toward these companies has been present for some time. In 2002, many of us bought tickets to watch Denzel Washington fight to get his son adequate healthcare coverage in John Q—he had to take a hospital hostage, more or less. Medical bills drove Walter White to a life of crime in Breaking Bad. There are already lists of shows about denied or limited coverage and the effects on people’s lives—it has been considered a legitimate and realistic plot device for a while.
In the eyes of many, even if Mangione shot an unarmed man, he was doing it for the underdog. Americans are very susceptible to catching feelings for outlaws if they are perceived as operating in the context of an unjust system and being on the side of the little guy. And it is easy for us to then hate those who bring that kind of outlaw down. Jesse James and his gang harmed a lot of people, but in the song “Jesse James,” the really bad guy is Robert Ford, the man who shot Jesse James. Jesse James was living under the alias of Mr. Howard, “But that dirty little coward/ That shot Mr. Howard/ Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.” This time around, people took to the internet to review bomb the McDonald’s where Luigi Mangione was captured. Many of the bad reviews referenced “rats.”
In some ways the whole thing is shocking—people are openly saying that this murder may be basically alright, or at least they “get it” even if they don’t support it. In other ways, it’s not as shocking as it could be. We have been primed to have a society divided by the murder of a healthcare CEO by an intelligent individual operating alone based on conviction. The content we consume and the narratives we are nourished on frame our perspectives. What do we watch? Marvel movies—full of souped-up people operating outside of the law and convention because what needs to be done won’t get accomplished by the authorities. Who do we listen to? Podcasts and media that reinforce our convictions and make people who see the world differently out to be crazy. We are all the time talking about the “culture wars.” This young man became a self-appointed soldier. Rather than rush to condemn the crime in the first 24 hours, any number of prominent figures were rushing to accuse the other political wing of being the major influence on Mangione. Once we found out who he followed on X, some people were busy scrambling to distance themselves.
In fairness, American culture would be primed for this divide over Mangione even without these recent influences. We love the Übermensch, who triumphs over rivals and grinds his competition into the dust. We had a whole era of robber barons. We love watching movies in which people on either side of the law build unstoppable empires—There Will Be Blood, American Gangster, The Godfather. We play the boardgame Monopoly. But we also love the compassionate and lovable little man, who triumphs in the end, if barely—Rocky, Cinderella Man, Rudy. It’s a Wonderful Life is all about a man who learns to love his small life, with a rickety house and limited travel and tiny business and shoestring lifestyle, because even though he doesn’t have much money or power, he has people who love him and he makes other people’s lives better (even better than his own, in some ways). We want to see a big man fall. We want to see a small man celebrated. We also want to “be like Mike.” We simultaneously want to be a “girl boss” while believing we’re surrounded by “horrible bosses.”
The past can be like the Delphic oracle when it comes to predicting the future, but we can easily imagine a continuing fascination with Luigi Mangione. We could have songs, movies, and merch. Everyone is already waiting for an authenticated manifesto to drop. He will be a Halloween costume, even if the photo shoots slow down. What remains to be seen is the extent to which we will reflect on our systems and how we resolve grievances and our commitment to the value of human life rather than just moon over Pretty Boy Mangione.