The Anderson Tapes (23 page)

One unexpected treasure was discovered in the medical doctor’s suite on the lobby floor. There, this man Anderson, after I had opened the door, went directly to a closet in the doctor’s office and there, on a back shelf of the closet, he discovered a cardboard shoe box containing a great deal of cash. I would say at least ten thousand dollars. Perhaps more. The Internal Revenue Service will be interested in that …
nein?

QUESTION: Perhaps. You had no problems opening the doors or safes?

MANN: None. Very inferior. After we gained the third floor, I was confident I would have no need for the torches and tanks in the truck. Quite frankly, it was not a challenge to me. Simple.

Everything went well.

QUESTION: You mentioned three teams. Who were on the third team?

MANN: They were the Negro and the uncouth man. They were detailed to guard the people assembled in Apartment Four B, and to look in on the sleeping super in the basement and the crippled boy in Apartment Five A. They were what is called muscle. They took no actual part in removing objects from the house—and, of course, I didn’t either, you understand. Their duties were merely to keep the building quiet while it was being emptied.

QUESTION: And everything went well?

MANN: Beautiful. It was beautiful! A remarkable job of organization. I admired the man I knew as John Anderson.

The following is a portion of a statement dictated to a representative of the District Attorney’s Office, County of New York, by Gerald Bingham, Jr., a minor, resident of Apartment 5A, 535 East Seventy-third Street, New York, New York. His entire statement is on recordings NYDA#145-113A-113G, and as transcribed (NYDA-#146-113AT-113GT) consists of forty-three typewritten pages.

The following is an excerpt covering the most crucial period of the witness’ activities. Material covered in previous testimony, and that to be covered in following testimony, has been deleted.

WITNESS: I heard the front door close, and I looked at my watch on the bedside table. It was nine minutes, thirty-seven seconds past one. My watch was an Omega chronometer. I never got it back. It was a very free machine. Very accurate. I don’t believe it gained more than three minutes a year. That’s very good for a wristwatch, you know. In any event, I noted the time. Of course, I wasn’t certain both the thieves had left the apartment with my parents.

But my hearing is very acute—possibly because of my physical debility. That is an interesting avenue for research—whether paralyzed legs might affect other senses, the way a blind man hears and smells with such sensitivity. Well, some day… .

I judged they would come back to check on me within ten minutes.

Actually, I heard the living room door open about seven minutes after they had left. A masked man came into the apartment, came into my bedroom, and looked at me. He was not the man who had spoken to me before. This man was somewhat shorter and heavier. He just looked at me, without saying anything. Then he saw my Omega chronometer on the bedside table, picked it up, put it in his pocket, and walked out. This angered me. I was already resolved to foil their plans, but this gave me an added incentive. I do not like people to touch my personal belongings.

My parents know this and respect my wishes.

I heard the living room door close, and I began counting, using the professional photographers’ method of ticking off seconds: “One hundred and one, one hundred and two …” and so forth. While I was counting, I picked up my bedside phone extension. As I suspected, it was completely dead, and I judged they had cut the main trunk line in the basement. This did not alarm me.

I judged they would check me every ten minutes or so for one or two times. Then, when they saw I was making no effort to escape or to raise an alarm, their visits would become more infrequent.

Such proved to be the case. Their first visit, as I have said, occurred about seven minutes after their initial departure from the apartment. The second visit, by the same man, was eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds after the first. The third visit—this was by a taller, more slender, masked man—came sixteen minutes and eight seconds after the second visit.

I judged the fourth visit would be approximately twenty minutes after the third. I estimated that, conservatively speaking, I had ten minutes in which I would not be disturbed. I did not wish to take the full twenty minutes as I did not wish to endanger my parents or the other tenants of the building who endeavor to be pleasant to me.

You must understand that although the lower half of my body is paralyzed and without control, I am very well developed from the waist up. My father takes me to a private health club three times a week. I am a very good swimmer, I can perform on the horizontal bars, and Paul—he’s the trainer—says he has never seen anyone as fast as I am on the rope climb. My shoulders and arms are very well muscled.

The moment I heard the outside door close, after the third visit by one of the miscreants, I threw back the sheet and began to slide to the floor. Naturally, I wanted to be as quiet as possible. I didn’t want to make any heavy thumps that might alert the thieves if they happened to be in Apartment Four A, directly below. So I got my upper body onto the floor and then, lying on my shoulders and back, I lifted my legs down with my hands. All this time I was counting, you understand. I wished to accomplish everything within the ten minutes I had allotted myself and be back in bed before the next inspection.

I moved by reaching out my arms, placing my forearms flat on the floor, and dragging my body forward with my biceps and shoulder muscles. I weigh almost one hundred and seventy-five pounds, and it was slow going. I remember trying to estimate the physical coefficients involved—angles, muscles involved, power required, the friction of the rug—things like that. But that’s of no importance.

Within three minutes I had reached the door of my closet—the walk-in closet on the north side of my bedroom, not the clothes closet on the south side.

After I became interested in electronics, my father had the walkin closet cleared of hooks, hangers, and poles. He had a carpenter install shelves and a desk at the right height for me when I was seated in my wheelchair. It was in this closet that I installed all my electronic equipment. This not only included my shortwave transmitter and receiver, but also hi-fi equipment wired to speakers in my bedroom and in the living room and in my parents’ bedroom. I had two separate turntables so my parents could listen to one LP while I listened to another, or we could even listen to separate tapes, if so desired. This was a wise arrangement as they enjoy Broadway show tunes—original-cast recordings—while I like Beethoven, Bach, and also Gilbert and Sullivan.

You may be interested to know that I had personally assembled every unit in that closet from do-it-yourself kits. If I told you how many junctions I had soldered, you wouldn’t believe me. But not only were the savings considerable—over what the cost of the completed units would be—but as I went along I was able to make certain improvements—minor ones, to be sure—they gave us excellent stereo reproduction from tape and LP’s and FM radio. I am currently assembling a cassette player on the work table to the left of the control board. Well, enough of that… .

I opened the closet door by reaching up. However, the work table and controls of my shortwave transmitter seemed impossibly high.

But fortunately, the carpenter who installed the table had built sturdily, and I was able to pull myself up by fingers, wrists, arms, and shoulders. It was somewhat painful but not unendurable. I should mention here that my antenna was on the roof of the building next door. It is an eighteen-story apartment house and towers over our five-story building. My father paid for the installation of an antenna and also pays ten dollars a month fee. The lead-in comes down the side of the tall building and into my bedroom window. It is not a perfect arrangement, but obviously better than having the antenna on our terrace, blocked by surrounding buildings.

Supporting myself on my arms, I turned on my equipment and waited patiently for the warm-up. I was still counting, of course, and figured five minutes had elapsed since I crawled out of bed. About thirty seconds later I began broadcasting. I gave my call signal, of course, and stated that a robbery was taking place at five-three-five East Seventy-third Street, New York, New York, and please, notify the New York Police Department. I didn’t have time to switch on my receiver and wait for acknowledgments. I merely broadcast steadily for two minutes, repeating the same thing over and over, hoping that someone might be on my wavelength.

When I calculated that seven minutes had elapsed from the time I got out of bed, I switched off my equipment, let myself drop to the floor, closed the closet door, dragged myself back to my bed, hauled myself up, and got beneath the sheet. I was somewhat tired.

I was glad I had not taken the full twenty minutes I had estimated I had before the fourth visit because one of the thieves came into my bedroom sixteen minutes and thirteen seconds after the third visit. It was the same tall, slender man who had made the previous inspection.

“Behaving yourself?” he asked pleasantly. Actually, he said,

“Behavin’ yoself,” from which I judged he was colored. “Yes,” I said, “I can’t move, anyhow.” He nodded and said, “We all got troubles.” Then he left and I never saw him again.

I lay there and thought back on what I had just done. I tried to analyze the problem to see if there was anything more I could do, but I couldn’t think of what it might be—without endangering my parents or the other tenants. I hoped someone had heard me, and I felt that, with luck, someone had. Luck is very important, you know. In many ways I know I am very lucky.

Also, to be quite frank, I thought these robbers were very stupid.

They had obviously investigated our apartment house very well, but they had missed the one thing that might possibly negate all their efforts.

I could plan a crime much better than that.

NYPDSIS recording #146-83C.

HASKINS: “Oh, God, Tommy, it was beautiful. Beautiful! It’s about two o’clock now, maybe a little later. The first team is working the third floor. The second team, with me in charge, is finishing up Two A and Two B. And what we got in those places you wouldn’t believe!

From the fruit’s apartment we took his paintings, small rugs, a few small pieces of antique furniture, his collection of unset gemstones, two original Picassos, and a Klee. From Two B, from the wall safe the tech had opened, we got a gorgeous tiara, a pearl necklace, and also a very chaste ruby choker I slipped into my pocket, figuring Snapper would flip over it. After all, she worked on this thing, too—even if the orders were that everything went into the truck. I knew we were already over our estimate when we hit the third floor. That retired jeweler in Three A had bags and bags of unset diamonds—most of them industrial but some very nice rocks as well. His little hedge against inflation. It took the tech less than three minutes to open the can—and without a torch. I was sure we’d hit a quarter of a mil at least.

Maybe more. From the third, we were going to move up to the fifth, clean that out, and then come back down to the fourth where all the tenants were being held. But already I knew it was going to be great—much better than we had estimated. I knew the old biddies’ apartment, Four B, would be a treasure-house. I was thinking we might hit half a million. Jesus, what luck! Everything was coming up roses!

The following are the introductory paragraphs of an article appearing in
The New York Times
, Tuesday, 2 July, 1968. The story was published on the first page of the second section of that day’s newspaper, was by-lined by David Burnham, and is copyrighted by
The New York Times
.

The article was entitled “Police Emergency Center Dedicated By Mayor.” Mayor Lindsay yesterday dedicated a $1.3-million police communications center that cuts in half the average time it takes the police to dispatch emergency help to the citizen.

“The miraculous new electronic communication system we inaugurate this morning will affect the life of every New Yorker in every part of our city, every hour of the day,” Mr. Lindsay said during a ceremony staged in the vast, windowless, air-conditioned communications center on the fourth floor of the ponderous old Police Headquarters building at 240 Centre Street.

“This is, perhaps, the most important event of my administration as Mayor,” Mr. Lindsay said. “No longer will a citizen in distress risk injury to life or property because of an archaic communications system.” The Mayor dedicated the new system about four weeks after it went into operation.

In that period the police response time to emergency calls was reduced to 55 seconds from about two minutes through a number of complex inter-related changes in the police communication change.

First, the time it takes to dial the police has been shortened by changing the old seven-digit emergency number—440-1234—to a new three-digit number, 911.

Second, the time it takes the police to answer an emergency call has been reduced by increasing the maximum number of policemen receiving calls during critical periods to 48 from 38 and by putting them in one room where all are available to handle any emergency that might occur in one area. Under the old system, when a citizen dialed 440-1234, his call went to a separate communications center situated in the borough from which he was calling.

The following section—and those of a similar nature below—are excerpts from the twenty-four-hour tape kept during the period 12:00 midnight, 31 August, 1968, to 12:00 midnight, 1 September, 1968, at the New York Police Communications Center at 240 Centre Street, Manhattan.

Tape NYPDCC-31AUG-1SEP. Time: 2:14:03 A.M.

OFFICER: New York Police Department. May I help you?

OPERATOR: Is this the New York City Police Department?

OFFICER: Yes, ma’am. May I help you?

OPERATOR: This is New York Telephone Company Operator four-one-five-six. Will you hold on a moment, please?