The Anderson Tapes (20 page)

MANN: I don’t know precisely why I was to wait, but this is what I was told to do—so I did it. I think perhaps it was to give Socks time to immobilize the superintendent. Also, it was to give Anderson time to follow me and check on my work. In any event, as I went down into the basement, Anderson was right behind me.

QUESTION: Then what?

MANN: As we entered the basement, Socks came toward us from the superintendent’s apartment. He said, “What a pigsty. The slob is out cold. The place smells like a brewery. He won’t wake up till Monday.” Anderson said, “Good.” Then he turned to me. “All right, Professor,” he said. So I set to work.

QUESTION: The lights in the basement were on at this time?

MANN: One dim overhead light, yes. But it was insufficient, and flashlights and a flood lantern were used in the area of my work.

QUESTION: You had brought your tools with you.

MANN: That is correct. My own personal hand and power tools. The heavy equipment, as I explained to you—the torches and the gas cylinders—had been provided and were still inside the body of the truck. So … I set to work on the schedule we had planned.

Anderson and Socks held the lights. First of all, I cut all telephonic communication, isolating the entire building. I then bridged the alarms in a manner which I have described to your technician, Mr.

Browder. This was in case the alarm would sound if the current was interrupted. I then cut the power to the self-service elevator.

This was simply a matter of throwing a switch. Finally, I cut the alarm to the cold box and picked the lock. I opened the door. At this time the men I know as Ed and Billy had joined us. Anderson motioned at the furs hanging inside the cold box and said to Ed and Billy, “Start loading. Everything. Clean it out. And don’t forget the super’s apartment.” I then went back to the service entrance on the ground level and picked the lock of the door connecting the service entrance with the lobby. The Negro, Skeets, and Anderson went into the lobby. Myself and Tommy, we waited. We watched Ed and Billy carry up armloads of fur coats and put them in the truck.

Dictated, signed, sworn, and witnessed statement by Dr. Dmitri Rubicoff, Suite 1B, 535 East Seventy-third Street, New York City.

NYPDSIS-#146-8, dated 6 September, 1968.

“It had been my intention to spend the entire Labor Day weekend with my wife and my daughter, her husband and child, at our summer home in East Hampton. However, early Friday morning I realized the press of work facing me was so great that I could not afford the luxury of taking four or five days off away from my desk.

“Accordingly, I sent my family on ahead—they took the station wagon, my wife driving—and I told them I would be out late Saturday night or perhaps early Sunday morning. I said I would keep them informed by phone as to my plans.

“My secretary I allowed to leave early on Friday as she was planning a five-day holiday at Nassau. I worked alone in the office all day Saturday, but realized I was too tired to drive out Saturday night in the Corvair. So I determined to work late Saturday night and sleep at home—I live on East Seventy-ninth Street—and then drive out on Sunday morning. I called my wife and informed her of my plans.

“I had a sandwich sent in at noon on Saturday. In the evening I dined at a nearby French restaurant, the Le Claire. I had an excellent poached filet of sole that was, perhaps, a trifle too salty. I returned to my office at about nine in the evening to finish up as much as I could.

As usual when I am working alone in the office at night, I locked the door to the lobby and put on the chain. I then turned on my hi-fi. I believe it was something by Von Weber.

“It was perhaps twelve thirty or a little later when the lobby door chimed. I was in the process of straightening my desk and packing a briefcase with professional journals I wished to take to East Hampton with me. I went to the door and opened the peephole. The man standing there was off to one side; all I could see was his shoulder and half of his body.

“‘Yes?’ I said.

“‘Doctor Rubicoff,’ he said, ‘I’m the relief doorman for the Labor Day weekend. I have a special delivery, registered letter for you.’

“I must admit I reacted foolishly. But in my own defense, I should tell you this: First—I was ready to leave, I was about to unlock the door, and it seemed ridiculous to ask this man to slide the letter under the door. Second—frequently, you understand, on holidays and during vacations, we have relief doormen take the place of our regular employees. So I was not concerned that, on the Labor Day weekend, this was a man whose voice I did not recognize. Third—the fact that he had a special delivery, registered letter for me—or claimed he had—did not alarm me. You understand, psychiatrists are quite used to receiving letters, telegrams, and phone calls from patients, in unusual forms and at unusual hours.

“I suspected nothing. I slipped the chain and unlocked the door.

“The two men who pushed the door forcibly aside and entered were both wearing head coverings that appeared to be semiopaque women’s stockings. The bottom half of the stocking had been cut off.

The top half was pulled over the man’s head and tied in a knot at the top. Presumably so it could not slip down or be pulled down. One of the men, I should say, was slightly under six feet tall. The other was perhaps three inches taller, and I had the feeling this man was a Negro. It was extremely difficult to judge, as only a vague shape of their features came through their masks, and both men wore white cotton gloves.

“‘Is your secretary here?’ the shorter man asked me. This was the first thing he said.

“I am quite used to dealing with disturbed people, and I think I handled the situation quite calmly.

“‘No,’ I told him. ‘She has left for a five-day vacation. I am alone.’

“‘Good,’ the man said. ‘Doctor, we don’t want to hurt you. Please lay down on the floor, your wrists and ankles crossed behind you.’

“Frankly, I was impressed by his air of quiet authority. I knew at once of course that this was a robbery. I thought perhaps they had come for my drugs. I had been the victim twice before of robberies in which the thieves only wanted my drugs. Incidentally, I keep an extremely small supply of narcotics in my safe. I did as the man requested. My ankles and wrists were taped, and then a strip of wide tape was put across my mouth. Very painful to remove later, I might add, because of my mustache. The man asked me if I could breathe comfortably, and I nodded. I was quite impressed with him—in fact, with the whole operation. It was very professional.”
Chapter 55

NYPDSIS recording #146-83C; interrogation of Thomas Haskins; Segment IA, dated 4 September, 1968. The following tape has been heavily edited to avoid repetition of material already presented and to eliminate material currently under adjudication.

QUESTION: Mr. Haskins, my name is Thomas K. Brody, and I am a detective, second grade, in the Police Department of the City of New York. It is my duty… .

HASKINS: Thomas! My name is Thomas, too. Isn’t that sweet?

QUESTION: It is my duty to make absolutely certain that you are aware of your rights and privileges, under the laws of the United States of America, as a person accused of a crime constituting a felony under the laws of the State of New York. Now, you are… .

HASKINS: Oh, I’m aware, Tommy. I’m really aware! I know all that jazz about lawyers and such. You can skip it.

QUESTION: You are not required at this time to answer any questions whatsoever that may be put to you by law enforcement officials.

You may request legal counsel of your choice. If you are unable to afford legal counsel, or if you have no personal counsel of your own, the court will suggest such counsel, subject to your approval.

In addition, you… .

HASKINS: All right already! I’m willing to spiel. I want to talk! I know my rights better than you. Can’t we just start talking—just you and me, two Tommies?

QUESTION: Whatever statements you may make at this time, without the presence of counsel, are of your own free will and volition.

And anything you say—I repeat,
anything
you say—even that which may seem to you of an innocent nature—may possibly, in the future, be used against you. Do you understand?

HASKINS: Of course I understand.

QUESTION: Is everything clear to you?

HASKINS: Yes, Tommy baby, everything is clear to me.

QUESTION: In addition… .

HASKINS: Oh, Jesus Christ!

QUESTION: In addition, I have this printed statement I would like you to sign in the presence of Policewoman Alice H. Hilkins, here as witness, that you fully understand your rights and privileges as an accused person under the laws already cited, and that whatever statements you make are made with full and complete comprehension of those rights and privileges.

HASKINS: Look, Dick Two, I want to talk, I’m willing to talk, I’m eager to talk. So let’s… .

QUESTION: Will you sign this statement?

HASKINS: Gladly, gladly. Gimme the goddamn thing.

[Lapse of four seconds.]

QUESTION: In addition, I have a second statement that… .

HASKINS: Oh, oh, oh. Tommy, I just… .

QUESTION: This second printed statement declares that you have not been physically threatened into signing the first statement, that you signed it of your own free will and desire, that no promises have been made to you as to the extent or punishment for the accused crime. In addition, you do say, affirm, and swear that… .

HASKINS: Tommy, how the fuck does a guy confess these days?

[Lapse of seven minutes thirteen seconds.]

HASKINS: … so that the one thing that really stuck in my mind was something Duke said at our last meeting. He said crime was just war during peacetime. He said the most important thing we could learn from war was that no matter how good a plan was, it was just not humanly possible to plan
everything
. He said things can go wrong or unexpected things happen, and you must be ready to cope with them. He said—this is Duke talking, you understand—he said that he and others—that’s what he said, “others”—had made our plan as foolproof as they could, but he knew unexpected things would happen they hadn’t counted on. Maybe a squad car would stop by. Maybe a beat fuzz would come into the lobby to rap a little with the doorman. Maybe one of the tenants would pull a gun. He said to expect the unexpected and not get spooked by it. He said the plan was good, but things could happen that hadn’t been planned for… .

So after we got there, I went around into the lobby and pressed the release button for the outside service door. It was right where Duke had told me it would be. While I was there, I took a look at a clipboard the doormen keep. It tells them what deliveries to expect and what tenants were away for the weekend—things like that. I saw right away that the headshrinker was in his office and working late. Also, there were two guests staying in Two A. Those were two of the unexpected things Duke had warned us about. So the moment he came through the opened door to the service entrance, I told him about them. He patted my arm. That’s the first time he ever touched me… .

So he and the smoke took care of the doctor, just like that, and we went ahead with the plan. You see, we knew there would be several tenants still in the building who hadn’t gone away for the Labor Day weekend. The idea was, instead of tying them all up in their apartments or keeping a watch on them, which we didn’t have enough people to do, the idea was to assemble everyone in the building in Apartment Four B where the old widow Mrs.

Hathway lived with her housekeeper. These were two really ancient dames, and Duke didn’t want to risk taping them up. So it was decided we’d bring everyone in the building to Apartment Four B, scare the hell out of them, and Skeets or Socks would keep an eye on them all together. After all, what could they do?

The phones were cut. They didn’t know if we had guns or knives or whatever. And we had them all in one place and one guy could keep them quiet while the rest of us cleaned out the whole fucking apartment house.

It was a marvelous plan… .

The following is a portion of a lengthy letter addressed to the author from Ernest Heinrich Mann, dated 28 March, 1969.

My Dear Sir:

I wish to thank you for your kind inquiries as to my physical health and mental stamina, as expressed in your recent missive. I am happy to tell you that, God willing, I am in good health and spirits. The food is plain but plentiful. The exercise—outdoors, that is—is sufficient, and my work in the library I find very rewarding.

You may be interested to learn that I have recently taken up the Yoga regimen, insofar as it relates to physical exercise. The philosophy does not concern me. But the physical program interests me as it requires no equipment, so that I am able to practice it in my cell, at any time. Needless to say, this is much to the amusement of my cellmate whose main exercise is turning the pages of the latest comic book, detailing the adventures of Cosmic Man!

I thank you for your recent gift of books and cigarettes which arrived in good order. You ask if there is any special printed matter which you may supply that is not available in the prison library. Sir, there is. Some months ago, in an issue of the New York
Times
, I read that, for the first time, scientists had succeeded in the synthetic reproduction of an enzyme in the laboratory. This is a subject that interests me greatly, and I would be much obliged if you could obtain for me copies of the scientific papers describing this discovery. I thank you.

Now then … you ask me about the personality and the character traits of the man I called John Anderson.

I can tell you he was a most complex man. As you may have surmised, I had several dealings with him prior to the events of 31 August-1 September, 1968. In all our dealings, I found him a man of the highest probity, of exceptional honesty, trustworthiness, and steadfastness. I would never hesitate in giving him a character reference, if such was requested of me.

A man of very little education and very much intelligence. And the two have little in common as, I am certain, you recognize.