The Anderson Tapes (11 page)

[Second sheet]

could give here about how much of what we say is common, ordinary
human behavior is really crime.

Some of these are personel, like between a man and a woman, or two
men or two women, and some are in business and some are in govt.

A man wants to shiv another guy in his company and he spreds the
word hes a queer. Slander.

A guy buys gifts for his wife because he knows she won’t give out if he
dont. Bribery.

We teach young kids in the army what is the best way to kill people.

Murder.

The local grosery store or department store jacks up the bill if they can
get away with it, or maybe shortchanges. Robbery.

A guy wants to go to a cheap restaurant but his woman wants to go to
a fancy joint. And she hints if they dont go where she wants, its no
push-push for him that night. Extortion.

A guy gives a dame a string of beads and he says there diamonds but
they are really zircons or rinestones and she puts out. Fraud.

A guy in a business is taking and another guy finds out and lets the
first guy know. So the first guy gets something on the second guy.

Then they grin and let live. Conspiracy.

Maybe a woman likes to get beat. So her guy slaps her around. He
likes it too. But whos to know? Its still assault.

A peter keeps another peter on the string by saying he will nark on
him if the first guy doesnt keep playing games. Extortion.

Similer to above, anyone who says I will kill myself if you do no do like
I want, that is also extortion. Or maybe blackmail

[Third sheet]

depending on how the lawyers and judges decide on it.

What I am saying is this, that crime is not just breaking laws because
everyone does it. I do not know if this is something new or has been
going on for many years. But we are all criminels.

We are all criminels. It is just a question of degree, like first, second
and third degree. But if the laws against criminel acts are right, then
almost everyone should be in the poke. If these laws are right and rigid, then it shouldnt matter what degree. The married woman who wont put out unless her husband buys her a fur coat is just as guilty as a guy whos got a million dollar extortion hustle going for him.

And the poor pop who breaks into his kids piggy bank, yes its funny,
and takes out enough change to get to work, well how is he so
different from a good bank man like Sonny Brooks, he died yesterday, it was in the papers. Jesus I loved that guy, he taught me all I know, he was so great. He got cut down coming out of a bank in West Va. I cant believe it he was so carefull, a real pro. Worked once a year but he planed for 6 mos. Carefull and good. Layed off for 6 mos. every year. Hit a big one once a year he said and then lay off. I worked two jobs with him and learned so much.

Oh shit, its all crime. Everything. The way we live. Everyone. We are
all cons, every one of us. So what I do is just being smart enough to
make it pay.

We lie and we cheat and we steal and we kill, and if it isnt money its
other people or there love or just to get some push. Whatever we get
hung on. Oh Jesus its so dirty.

When I was inside I thaught those inside were cleaner then those
outside. At least we were open and did our crimes in the open. But the
rest think they are so normal and clean and desent and they are the biggest and dirtiest criminels of them all because they [End of third sheet]

The following is a transcription made from tape recordings of a conversation that took place in Elvira’s, an Italian restaurant at 96352

Hammacher Street, Brooklyn, New York, during the early morning hours of 26 June, 1968.

At the time, these premises were under electronic surveillance by at least four, and possibly more, law investigation agencies. Apparently there was no cooperation between these agencies.

A great variety of miniaturized electronic devices was utilized, including telephone taps, bugs implanted beneath certain tables, in the bar, and in both the gents’ and the ladies’ rooms. In addition, the new Sonex Nailhead 158-JB microphone transmitters had been surreptitiously installed in the baseboards of the kitchen.

Elvira’s, a popular and successful restaurant in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, had for many years been known to law enforcement officers as an eating and meeting place for members of the Angelo family. The restaurant was fire-bombed on 15 October, 1958, during what was apparently a gang war between the Angelo family and a rival organization known as the Snipes Brothers. The bombing resulted in the death of a waiter, Pasquale Gardini.

On 3 February, 1959, Anthony “Wopso” Angelo was shot down in the front phone booth of Elvira’s while making a phone call to persons unknown. His killer entered through the glass door, after apparently seeing Angelo go into the phone booth from an outside observation post. Four bullets of.32 caliber were fired into Angelo. He died instantly. His killer has not yet been apprehended.

Present at the meeting in a small, private back room at Elvira’s on the morning of 26 June, 1968, were John “Duke” Anderson, Anthony

“Doctor” D’Medico, and Patrick “Little Pat” Angelo. These men have been positively identified by voice prints, interior and exterior evidence, and by paid informers present at the scene.

Patrick “Little Pat” Angelo was born in 1932 in Brooklyn, New York.

His father, Patsy “The Hook” Angelo, was killed in a waterfront fracas two months before Patrick’s birth. Patrick’s education was financed by his grandfather, Dominick “Papa” Angelo, don of the Angelo family. Patrick Angelo was 5 feet 8_ inches tall; 193 pounds; blue eyes; thick gray hair worn long, combed straight back, no part.

Physical scars: scalp wound above right temple (bullet); depressed wound in left calf (shrapnel); and excised third right rib (grenade).

Subject was a graduate of Walsham School of Business Administration, and had attended one year at the Rolley Law Academy. Enlisted in U.S. Army in 1950 and after training was sent to Korea with the 361st Assault Battalion, 498th Regiment, 22d Combat Division. At war’s end, he had risen to rank of major (battlefield promotions) and had earned the Purple Heart (3), Silver Star, and Distinguished Service Cross, in addition to decorations from the South Korean and Turkish governments.

Subject resigned from the Army in 1954 with letters of commendation.

He then organized and became president of Modern Automanagement, 6501 Fifth Avenue, New York City, a management consultant firm. In addition, he was an officer of record for Sweeteeze Linens, 361 Forbisher Street, Brooklyn, New York; vice-president of Wrenchies Bowling Alleys, 1388 Grand Evarts, the Bronx, New York; and secretary-treasurer of the Fifth National Discount and Service Organization, Palm Credit Co., Inc., and the Thomas Jefferson Trading Corp., all of Wilmington Delaware.

Subject had no criminal record.

Subject was married (to Maria Angelo, a second cousin) and was the father of two teen-age sons currently students at Harrington Military Academy in Virginia. He also had a four-year-old daughter, Stella.

Supposition: Patrick Angelo will succeed Dominick “Papa” Angelo as don of the Angelo family upon the death of Dominick, who was ninety-four years old.

Due to mechanical difficulties and heavy external noise, no single tape recording contains the entire conversation given below. This is a transcription of parts of four different tapes made by four law enforcement agencies. (At their request, portions of the transcription have been deleted as they concern investigation currently in progress.) This is the author’s transcription GO-110T-26JUN68. The time was 1:43 A.M.

D’MEDICO: … don’t believe you’ve met Pat Angelo. Pat, this is Duke Anderson, the man I told you about.

ANDERSON: Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Angelo.

ANGELO: Duke, I don’t want you to think I’m giving you a fast shuffle, but I’ve got another meet tonight. Then I’ve got to drive home to Teaneck. So you’ll understand if I make this as short as we can. Okay?

ANDERSON: Sure.

ANGELO: I’ll tell you what the Doc told me. See if I got it straight. If not, you correct me. Then I’ll start asking questions. You got a campaign. It’s a house on the East Side of Manhattan. You want to take the whole place. He advanced you three G’s. That’s out of his own pocket. You been looking it over. Now we’re at the point where we decide do we go ahead or do we call the whole thing off. Am I right so far?

ANDERSON: That’s right, Mr. Angelo. Mr. D’Medico, I have a complete list of my expenses with me, and you have three hundred and fifty-nine dollars and sixteen cents coming back on your advance that wasn’t spent.

D’MEDICO: I told you, Pat! Didn’t I tell you?

ANGELO: Yes. Let’s get on with it. So what have we got, Duke?

ANDERSON: I have a report here. It’s a handwritten original. No copies. For you and Mr. D’Medico. I think it looks good.

ANGELO: How much?

ANDERSON: Minimum of a hundred thousand. Closer to quarter of a mil, I’d guess.

ANGELO: You’d guess? What the hell are you talking about? What?

Retail value? Wholesale value? Resale value? What we can get from fences? What is it? Spell it out.

ANDERSON: It’s jewelry, furs, uncut stones, a valuable coin collection, rugs, maybe drugs from two doctors, cash, negotiable securities. These people are loaded.

[Lapse of five seconds.]

ANGELO: So you’re talking about original retail value?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: So take a third of what you estimate. Maybe thirty G’s if we can unload it. Or possibly eighty G’s tops. Is that right?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: Let’s figure the bottom—thirty G’s. How many men?

ANDERSON: Five.

ANGELO: Five? And one of ours. Six. So you want six men to put out for five G’s each?

ANDERSON: No. I want my men to be paid a flat fee. Whatever I can settle for. But no share. I figure I can get the five for a total of eight thou tops. I don’t know what you’ll pay your man. Maybe he’s on salary. But figure ten G’s tops for employees. That leaves twenty G’s for a split. Absolute minimum. I’m no gambler, but I still think it’ll run closer to eighty G’s. The total, that is.

ANGELO: Forget what you think. We’re working on the minimum. So we have twenty G’s left for the split. How do you figure that?

ANDERSON: Seventy-thirty.

ANGELO: Seventy to you, of course?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: You’re a hardnose, aren’t you?

D’MEDICO: Pat, take it easy.

ANDERSON: Yes, I’m a hardnose.

ANGELO: Tennessee?

ANDERSON: Kentucky.

ANGELO: I thought so. Duke, put yourself in my place. You want me to okay this thing. You guarantee us about six or seven thousand if we agree to your terms. All right, all right—it may run as high as twenty G’s if the take is as big as you guess it might be. I can’t figure with guesses. I got to know. So I’m figuring on six G’s. Anything over is gravy. All this for six thousand dollars? We can take that legit in one day from our biggest horse parlor. So what’s the percentage?

ANDERSON: So what’s the risk? One muscle? He’s expendable, isn’t he?

[Lapse of eight seconds.]

ANGELO: You’re no dumdum, are you?

ANDERSON: No, I’m not. And I got to keep repeating that seven G’s is the absolute minimum. It’ll run more, much more—I swear it.

ANGELO: Put your cock on the line?

ANDERSON: Goddamned right.

D’MEDICO: Jesus, Pat… .

ANGELO: He’s a hardnose—like I said. I like you, Duke.

ANDERSON: Thanks.

ANGELO: For nothing. Have you started thinking about operations?

ANDERSON: A little. Just a beginning. It should be on a holiday weekend. Half the people will be gone to the beach or on vacation or at their summer places. July Fourth would have been good, but it’s too late for that now. If you say okay, we should aim for the Labor Day weekend. We cut all communications. Isolate the house. We pull up a van. We take our time—three hours, four hours, whatever we need.

ANGELO: But you haven’t thought it out?

ANDERSON: No, I haven’t. I got this report here. It’ll give you a rundown on who lives there and where the stuff is and where we should look and how it can be done. But if you say okay, we’ll have to dig a lot deeper.

ANGELO: Like what?

ANDERSON: Habits of people in the building. Schedules of the beat fuzz and squad cars in the sector. Private watchmen. People who walk their dogs late at night. Location of call boxes and telephone booths. Bars that are open late at night. A lot of things… .

ANGELO: Were you ever in the military?

ANDERSON: Marine Corps. About eighteen months.

ANGELO: What happened?

ANDERSON: I got a dishonorable discharge.

ANGELO: What for?

ANDERSON: I knocked up a captain’s wife—amongst other things.

ANGELO: Yes. What did you do? See any action?

ANDERSON: No. I made corporal. I was an instructor on the range at Paris Island.

ANGELO: You’re a good shot?

ANDERSON: Yes.

D’MEDICO: But you’ve never carried a piece on a job—have you, Duke?

ANDERSON: No. I never have.

ANGELO: Christ, I’m thirsty. Doc, get us another bottle of that Volpolicella, will you? But if this campaign goes through, you’ll have to pack a piece. You realize that, don’t you, Duke?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: You’re willing?

ANDERSON: Yes.

ANGELO: When you were a corporal of Marines did you ever get any instructions on the technique of a raid? A quick hit-and-run?