The Anderson Tapes (10 page)

Seymour P. Ernst, president, The New Graphology Institution, 14426

Erskine Avenue, Chicago, Illinois, as being in the true handwriting of Cynthia “Snapper” Haskins (previously identified). The two sheets of unlined paper, inscribed on both sides, revealed latent fingerprints of Cynthia Haskins, Thomas Haskins, and John Anderson. The paper itself—an inexpensive typing paper without watermark—bore miniature serrations on its upper edge (tipped with a red adhesive), indicating the sheets had been torn from a pad. The paper was identified as being a popular brand of typing paper sold in pads of twenty-five sheets. Such pads as available in many stationery and variety stores.

DUKE:

I swept the two offices, you know where. No strain, no pain. I gave both doctors freak checks instead of cash. I won’t go back.

No point in it.

Both big layouts. I guess they’re doing all right. The doctor’s got a nurse and a secretary-receptionist. I saw her opening mail.

Mostly checks. No safe in outer office. Probably night bank deposits. Two rooms off the doctor’s office: examination room and small supply room. Little room has drug safe in corner. Toilet is to left as you walk down corridor to doctor’s private office.

Pictures on walls are cheap prints. Doctor has five silver cups in his office—for rowing a scull. Whatever that is.

Sorry I pulled a blank here—but that’s all there was.

Headshrinker’s office was small outer room with secretary-nurse, big private office and toilet to right of outer room.

Shrink has three nice small paintings: Picasso, Miro, and someone else. Looked like the real thing. I described them to Tommy. He estimates 20 G’s for the three, possibly more.

Bottom left of shrink’s desk has dial lock. He was putting reel of recording tape in drawer when I came in. When I started to talk, he pressed button in desk well. Everything I said was recorded, I’m sure. Must be some interesting things in that desk safe. Think about it.

He has small lavatory and clothes closet next to his office, at back near windows that overlook garden. Something in closet?

Nurse-secretary is young, about twenty-eight. Shrink is about fifty-five, speaks with accent. Small, fat, tired. I think he’s on something. I’d guess Dexies.

That’s all I got. Sorry it wasn’t more.

Don’t forget about those tape recordings. Hot off the couch.

Know what I mean?

Rough sketches of both offices on back of this sheet. If there’s anything else we can do for you, please let us know.

The rest of the $$$, Duke? We had some expenses and we’re hung up. Thanks.

SNAP

Recording NYSNB-1157 (continuing). Taped at 2:17 P.M., 19 June, 1968, at Mama’s Soul Food, 125th Street and Hannox Avenue, New York City. Participants John Anderson and Samuel Johnson have been identified by a paid informer present at the scene.

Samuel “Skeets” Johnson, thirty-three, was a Negro, light tan, with long black greased hair combed in a high “conk” (pompadour).

Approximately 6 feet 2 inches; 178 pounds. Deep razor scar on left cheek. Hearing impairment of 75 percent in left ear. Dressed in expensive clothing of bright hues. Wore light pink polish on fingernails.

At last report, drove a 1967 Cadillac convertible (electric blue), New Jersey license plates 4CB6732A, registered to Jane Martha Goody, 149 Hempy Street, Hackensack, New Jersey. Johnson’s criminal record included arrests for loitering, petty larceny, committing a public nuisance, resisting arrest, simple assault, assault with intent to kill, threatening bodily harm, breaking parole, breaking and entering, armed robbery, and expectorating on a public sidewalk. He had served a total of six years, eleven months, fourteen days in Dawson School for Boys, Hillcrest Reformatory, and Dannemora. This man had the unusual ability of being able to add a series of as many as twenty dictated numbers of eight digits each in his head and arriving at the correct sum within seconds. Frequently carried a switchblade knife in a small leather sheath strapped to right ankle. Frequently spoke in rhymed slang.

ANDERSON: How you doing, Skeets?

JOHNSON: Slip me five, I’m still alive. Now that you’re here, have a beer. If you’re in the mood, make it food.

ANDERSON: Just a beer.

JOHNSON: I thought you dug this soul food crap—knuckles and hocks and greens?

ANDERSON: Yeah, I like it. Don’t you?

JOHNSON: Shit no, man. I go for a good Chateaubriand or maybe some of them frogs’ legs swimming in butter and garlic. That’s eating. This stuff sucks. Just a beer? That all you want?

ANDERSON: That’s all. What’d you find out?

JOHNSON: Wait for the beer, and then give ear.

[Lapse of twenty-seven seconds.]

JOHNSON: By the way, I’m picking up the knock.

ANDERSON: Thanks.

JOHNSON: I got to thank you, lad, ‘cause you made me glad.

ANDERSON: How’s that?

JOHNSON: That little Andronica you put me onto. Oh, so sweet and juicy. You spend a night with her, all you need is a spoon and a straw. She’s a double-dip strawberry sundae with a big whoosh of white whipped cream on top and then a big red cherry sticking up in the air.

ANDERSON: And the first thing you bit off was that cherry.

JOHNSON: Ask me no questions, and I tell you no lies.

ANDERSON: You pushing her?

JOHNSON: Every chance I get—which ain’t often. She gets one night off a week. Then we fly. And we had two matinee sessions. Oh, she so cuddly and wiggly and squirming. I could eat her up.

ANDERSON: And I bet you do.

JOHNSON: On occasion, Great White Father, on occasion.

ANDERSON: How did you make the meet?

JOHNSON: What you want to know for?

ANDERSON: How am I going to learn to operate if you don’t tell me things?

JOHNSON: Ah, Duke, Duke … you got more shit than a Christmas goose. You forgotten more than I could ever teach you. Well, I got this old family friend. A real coon type. But that’s just front.

This cat is into everything. I mean, he’s a black Billy the Kid.

Slick. You dig?

ANDERSON: Sure.

JOHNSON: So I slip him a double Z. He meets this Andronica when she comes out of the supermarket. My pal puts his paws on her.

“You dirty sex fiend,” I scream at him, “how dare you touch and annoy and defile and molest this dear, sweet, little innocent chick?” ANDERSON: Beautiful.

JOHNSON: I feed him a knuckle sandwich—which he slips. He takes off down the avenue. Andronica is shook.

ANDERSON: And grateful.

JOHNSON: Yeah—and grateful. So I help her wheel her little wagon of groceries home. One thing leads to another.

ANDERSON: So? What did she spill?

JOHNSON: That coin collection is insured for fifty big ones. There’s a wall safe behind a painting of a vase of flowers in the study. That’s where Mrs. Sheldon keeps her ice. My baby thinks there’s other goodies in there, too. Bonds. Maybe some green. Sound good?

ANDERSON: Not bad. They going to be around all summer?

JOHNSON: I regrets to report, massa, they are not. The family moves out this weekend to Montauk. Old man Sheldon will go out every weekend until after Labor Day. That means no more sweet push for pops for another three months unless we can work something out—like her coming into the city or me going out there.

ANDERSON: You’ll work it out.

JOHNSON: I mean to. I really mean to. I must see Andronica so she can blow my harmonica.

ANDERSON: What about the cold room? The room in the basement.

Remember?

JOHNSON: I didn’t forget, white man who speaks with forked tongue.

Guess what it is.

ANDERSON: I been trying to. I can’t.

JOHNSON: When the house was built, that’s where they kept their fruits and vegetables. Then after they had refrigerators, the old geezer who built the joint kept his wines down there. Those walls are thick.

ANDERSON: And now? What’s it used for? Wine?

JOHNSON: No, indeedy. They got a little refrigerator-like in there and a machine that takes the water out of the air. It’s cold and it’s dry.

And everyone who lives in that house—the women, that is—they puts their fur coats in there for storage come warm weather. No extra charge. They got their own fur storage locker right there on the premises. How do you like that?

ANDERSON: I like it. I like it very much.

JOHNSON: Thought you would. Duke, if you planning anything—and notice I say
if
—and you need an extra field hand, you know who’s available, don’t you?

ANDERSON: I give you your due; it could be you.

JOHNSON: Ah, baby, now you’re singing our song!

ANDERSON: Reach under the table; it’s your other bill.

JOHNSON: Your gelt I’ll take, and that’s no fake. But why pay me for just what’s due? I should pay you for what I screw.

ANDERSON: See you around.

Tape SEC-25JUN68-IM-12:48PM-139H. This is a telephone tap.

ANDERSON: Hello? It’s me.

INGRID: Yes. Ah… .

ANDERSON: Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.

INGRID: What time is it?

ANDERSON: About a quarter to one.

INGRID: You are coming over?

ANDERSON: No. Not today. That’s why I called. Is your phone clean?

INGRID: Oh,
Schatzie
… why should they bother with me? I am a nobody.

ANDERSON: God, how I’d like to come over. But I can’t. Not today. It would put me to sleep. I have a meet tonight.

INGRID: So.

ANDERSON: It’s very important. Very big men. I’ve got to be awake.

Sharp. These are the money men.

INGRID: You know what you are doing?

ANDERSON: Yes.

INGRID: I wish you very much good luck.

ANDERSON: I’ll probably be through with them by two or three. It’s in Brooklyn. Can I come back?

INGRID: Regretfully, no,
Schatzie
. I am busy tonight.

ANDERSON: Busy?

INGRID: Yes.

ANDERSON: Important?

INGRID: Let us say—profitable. He flies in from Fort Wayne. That is in Indiana. That is something … no? To fly to New York from Fort Wayne, Indiana, to see poor old Ingrid Macht.

ANDERSON: I’d fly from Hong Kong.

INGRID: Ah! Now that is romantic! I do thank you. But tomorrow perhaps?

ANDERSON: Yes. All right. I guess that would be best. I’ll tell you about it then.

INGRID: As you wish. Duke… .

ANDERSON: Yes?

INGRID: Be careful. Be very, very careful.

ANDERSON: I will be.

INGRID: There is something in you that distresses me—a wildness, a strangeness. Think. Duke, promise me you will think … very clearly.

ANDERSON: I promise you I will think very clearly.

INGRID:
Das is gut
. And perhaps, tomorrow afternoon, we might get out. Together, Duke. For the first time.

ANDERSON: Together? Yes. I’ll get you out. I promise.

INGRID: Good. And now I shall go back to sleep.

The following manuscript was discovered in a search of the premises of John “Duke” Anderson on 3 September, 1968. It consisted of three sheets of yellow note paper, ruled horizontally with blue lines, and vertically by a thin triple line (red-blue-red) 1_ inches from the left-hand margin. The sheets themselves measured approximately 8 by 12

3/8 inches, with serrations along the top edge indicating they had been torn from a pad or tablet.

Analysis by experts disclosed that this type of paper is commonly sold in pads in stationery and notion stores and is known as legal notepaper. It is frequently used by students, lawyers, professional writers,
etc.

The recovered sheets were apparently a part or section of a longer manuscript. The pages were not numbered. Analysts believe they were written approximately ten years before the date of discovery—that is, about 1958. The handwriting was determined to be definitely that of John Anderson. The writing implement used was a ballpoint pen with green ink.

The three sheets reproduced below were being used as shelf paper in a small closet in the premises of 314 Harrar Street, Brooklyn, New York, when they were discovered and submitted to analysis.

[First sheet]

it could be everything.

In other words, crime is not just a little thing, a small part of society,
but is right in there, and it makes up most of what everyone calls
normal, right and desent living. Let us list them.

When a woman will not give in to a man unless he marrys her, that
could be called extortion or blackmail.

Or a woman who wants a fur coat, and if her husband wont give it to
her, and she says no sex if he dont. This also is a kind of a crime,
like blackmail.

Maybe a boss lies a secretery because she will loose her job
otherwise. Extortion.

A guy says, I know you have been playing around. If you don’t give
me some, I will tell your husband. Blackmail.

A big grosery store comes in to a neyborhood near a small grosery
store. And this big chain cuts there prices and puts the small store
out of business. This is mugging. Money mugging but it is mugging all the same.

War. You say to a small country you do what we want or we will blow
you up. Extortion or blackmail.

Or a big country like the USA goes into a small country and buys the
kind of govt we want. This is criminel bribery.

Or we say we will give you such and so if you do this, and then the
country does it, and we say thanks a lot! And dont pay off. That is
fraud or conspiracy to defraud.

A busness man or maybe even a professer in a collage thinks the
other guy will get the job he wants. So he writes letters he dont sign
and sends them to the top man. Poyson pen letters. Nothing he could get busted for but hinting.

There are many other exampels, practicaly endless that I