The Anderson Tapes (26 page)

BINGHAM: That’s correct. I was able to walk, supported by my wife and Dr. Rubicoff, and they got us all out of Apartment Four B and into Four A.

QUESTION: Did they tell you why they were moving you?

BINGHAM: No. The man who seemed to be the leader just came in and said, “Everyone across the hall. Make it fast. Move.” Or something like that.

QUESTION: He told you to make it fast?

BINGHAM: Yes. Perhaps I was imagining things—I was still shaky, you understand—but I thought there was a tension there. They prodded us to move faster. They seemed to be in a big hurry now.

When they first came to my apartment earlier in the evening they were more controlled, more deliberate. Now they were hurrying and pushing people.

QUESTION: Why did you think that was?

BINGHAM: I thought they seemed frightened, that something was threatening them and they wanted to wind up everything and get out in a hurry. That’s the impression I got.

QUESTION: You thought
they
were frightened? Didn’t that make you feel better?

BINGHAM: No. I was still ashamed of myself.

The following section (and several below) is excerpted from the final report of Captain Edward X. Delaney—a document that has become something of a classic in the literature of the New York Police Department, and that has been reprinted in the police journals of seven countries, including Russia. It’s official file number is NYPD-EXD-1SEP1968.

“I arrived at the corner of East Seventy-third Street and York Avenue at approximately 3:24 A.M. I had driven over from the 251st Precinct house. My driver was Officer Aloysius McClaire. I immediately saw the squad car that had been parked across Seventy-third Street, supposedly blocking exit from the street. However, it was improperly situated. This was car George Twenty-four (See Appendix IV for complete list of personnel involved.) After identifying myself, I directed that the car be parked slightly toward the middle of the block at a point where private cars were parked on both sides of the street, thus more effectively blocking exit from the street.

“There is a public phone booth located on the northwest corner of East Seventy-third Street and York Avenue. My investigation proved this phone to be out of order. (N.B. Subsequent investigation proved all the public phone booths within a ten-block area of the crime had been deliberately damaged, apparent evidence of the careful and detailed planning of this extremely well-organized crime.) “I thereupon directed Officer McClaire to force open the door of a cigar shop located on the northwest corner of East Seventy-third Street and York Avenue. He did so, without breaking the glass, and I entered, switched on the lights, and located the proprietor’s phone. (I was careful to respect his property, although recompense should be made by the City of New York for his broken lock.) “I then called Communications Center and spoke to Lieutenant John K. Fineally. I informed him of the location of my command post and requested that the telephone line on which I was speaking be kept open and manned every minute. He agreed. I also requested that Inspector Walter Abrahamson, on his way in from Queens, be directed to my command post. Lieutenant Fineally acknowledged. I then directed my driver, Officer McClaire, to remain at the open phone line until relieved. He acknowledged this order.

“I was dressed in civilian clothes at this time, being technically off duty.

I divested myself of my jacket and carried it over one arm, after rolling up my shirt sleeves. I left my straw hat in the cigar store. I borrowed a Sunday morning newspaper from one of the officers in the car blockading Seventy-third Street. I placed the folded newspaper under my arm. Then I strolled along the south side of East Seventy-third Street, from York Avenue to East End Avenue. As I passed 535 East Seventy-third Street, across the street, I could see, without turning my head, the truck parked in the service entrance. The side doors of the truck were open, but there was no sign of human activity.

“I saw immediately that it was a very poor tactical situation for a frontal assault. The houses facing the beleaguered building offered very little in the way of cover and/or concealment. Most were of the same height as 535, being town houses or converted brownstones. A frontal assault would be possible, but not within the directives stated in NYPDSIS-DIR-#64, dated 19 January, 1967, which states: ‘In any action, the commanding officer’s first consideration must be for the safety of innocent bystanders and, secondly, for the safety and well-being of police personnel under his command.’

“When I reached the corner of East Seventy-third Street and East End Avenue, I identified myself to the officers in car George Nineteen, blocking the street at this corner. Again, the car was improperly parked. After pointing out to the driver how I wished the car to be placed, I had him drive me around the block, back to my command post on York Avenue, and then directed him to return to his original post and block the street at that end in the manner in which I had directed. I then returned the newspaper to the officer from whom I had borrowed it.

“In the short drive around the block to my command post, I had formulated my plan of attack. I contacted Lieutenant Fineally at Communications Center via the open telephone line in the cigar store.

(May I say at this time that the cooperation of all personnel at Communications Center during this entire episode was exemplary, and my only suggestion for improvement might be a more formalized system of communication with more code words and numbers utilized.

Without these, communications tend to become personalized and informal, which just wastes valuable time.)

“I ordered Lieutenant Fineally to send to my command post five more two-man squad cars. I also requested an emergency squad—to be supplied with at least two sets of walkie-talkies; a weapons carrier, with tear gas and riot guns; two searchlight cars; and an ambulance.

Lieutenant Fineally stated he would consult his on-duty roster and supply whatever was available as soon as possible. At this time—I estimate it was perhaps 3:40 or 3:45 A.M.—I also asked Lieutenant Fineally to inform Deputy Arthur C. Beatem, the standby deputy of that date, of what was going on and leave it to Deputy Beatem’s judgment as to whether or not to inform the commissioner and/or the mayor.

“I then began to organize my forces… .”
Chapter 71

NYPDSIS recording #146-83C.

HASKINS: About this time, Duke told… .

QUESTION: What time was it?

HASKINS: Oh, I don’t know exactly, Tommy. It was getting late—or rather early in the morning. I thought the sky was getting light, or perhaps I was imagining it. In any event, I had pointed out to the Brodsky brothers what was to be taken from Apartment Four B.

As I had suspected, it was a veritable treasure trove. The tech sprung a huge old-fashioned trunk, brass-bound, with a hasp and padlock on it. And he also opened a few odds and ends like jewel boxes, file cases, and even a GI ammunition box that had been fitted with a hasp and padlock. It was really hilarious what those old biddies had squirreled away. Quite obviously, they did not trust banks! There was one diamond pendant and a ruby choker—all their jewels were incredibly filthy, incidentally—and I judged those two pieces alone would bring close to fifty G’s. In addition, there was cash—even some of the old-style large bills that I hadn’t seen for years and years. There were negotiable bonds, scads and scads of things like Victorian tiaras, bracelets, “dog collars,” headache bands, pins, brooches, a small collection of jeweled snuffboxes, loops and loops of pearls, earrings, men’s stick pins—and all of it good, even if it did need a cleaning. My God, Tommy, it was like being let loose in Tiffany’s about seventy-five years ago. There were also some simply yummy original glass, enamel, and cloisonné pieces that I couldn’t bear to leave behind. Duke had told us to hurry it up, so we disregarded the rugs and furniture, although I saw a Sheraton table—a small one—that any museum in the city would have given an absolute fortune for, and there was a tiny little Kurdistan, no bigger than three by five, that was simply exquisite. I just couldn’t bear to leave that behind, so I had Billy Brodsky—the one who had the wet brain—tuck it under his arm and take it down to the truck.

QUESTION: Where was Anderson while all this was going on?

HASKINS: Oh, he was—you know—here, there, and everywhere. He checked on the crippled boy in Apartment Five A, and then he went out on the terrace of Five B to look around. Then he checked how that monster from Detroit was doing with the tenants who had been moved across the hall to Four A, and then he helped the Brodsky boys carry some things down to the truck, and then he prowled through some of the empty apartments. Just checking, you know. He was very good, very alert. Then, after I had finished in Apartment Four B, he told me to go down to the basement and see if the super was still sleeping and also check with the spade who had been stationed in the lobby. So I went down to the basement, and the super was still snoring.

QUESTION: Did you take anything from his apartment?

HASKINS: Oh no. It had been cleaned out earlier. The only thing we got was an antique triptych.

QUESTION: The super claims he had just been paid, he had almost a hundred dollars in his wallet, and this money was taken. Did you take it?

HASKINS: Tommy, that hurts! I may be many things, but I am not a cheap little sneak thief.

QUESTION: When they searched you at the station house you had about forty dollars in a money clip. And you also had almost a hundred dollars folded into a wad and tucked into your inside jacket pocket. Was that the super’s money?

HASKINS: Tommy! How could you?

QUESTION: All right. What happened next—after you checked on the super and found he was still sleeping?

HASKINS: Duke had told me to check with Skeets Johnson in the lobby on the way up. He was in the doormen’s booth in the rear of the lobby so no one could see him from the street. I asked him if everything was all right.

QUESTION: And what did he say?

HASKINS: He said he hadn’t seen any beat fuzz or squad cars. He said the only person he had seen was a man carrying a newspaper with his jacket over his arm go humping by on the other side of the street. He said the man hadn’t turned his head when he went by so he didn’t think that was anything. But I could tell something was bothering him.

QUESTION: Why do you say that?

HASKINS: Well, everything he had said up to now had been in rhymes, some of them quite clever and amusing. The man was obviously talented. But now he was speaking normally, just as you or I, and he didn’t seem to have the high spirits he had earlier in the evening. Like when we were in the truck, on the way to the apartment house, he kept us laughing and relaxed. But now I could tell he was down, so I asked him why. And he said he didn’t know why he was down, but he said—and I remember his exact words—he said, “Something don’t smell right.” I left him there and went back upstairs and reported to Duke that Skeets hadn’t seen any fuzz or cars but that he was troubled. Duke nodded and hurried the Brodsky boys along. We were about ready to leave. I figured another half hour at the most and we’d be gone. I wasn’t feeling down. I was feeling up. I thought it had been a very successful evening, far beyond our wildest hopes. Even though I was working for a fixed fee, I wanted the whole thing to come off because it was very exciting—I had never done anything like that before—and I thought Duke might give me some more work. Also, you know, I had pocketed a few little things—trinkets … really nothing of value—but the whole evening would prove very profitable for me.

Excerpt from the final report of Captain Edward X. Delaney, NYPD-EXD-1SEP1968.

“See my memorandum No. 563 dated 21 December, 1966, in which I strongly urged that every commanding officer of the NYPD of the rank of lieutenant and above be required to attend a course in the tactics of small infantry units (up to company strength), as taught at several bases of the U.S. Army and at Quantico, Virginia, where officer candidates of the U.S. Marine corps are trained.

“During my service as patrolman in the period 1946-49, the great majority of crimes were committed by individuals, and the strategy and tactics of the NYPD were, in a large part, directed toward thwarting and frustrating the activities of individual criminals. In recent years, however, the nature of crime in our city (and, indeed, the nation—if not the world) has changed radically.

“We are now faced, not with individual criminals, but with organized bands, gangs, national and international organizations. Most of these are paramilitary or military-type organizations, be they groups of militant college students or hijackers in the garment center.

Indeed, the organization variously known as Cosa Nostra, Syndicate, Mafia, etc., even has military titles for its members—don for general or colonel,
capo
for major or captain, soldier for men in the ranks,
etc.

“The realization of the organized military character of crime today led to my memo cited above in which I urged that police officers be given military training in infantry tactics, and also be required to take a two-week refresher course each year to keep abreast of the latest developments. I myself have taken such courses on a volunteer basis since my appointment as lieutenant in 1953.

“Hence, I saw the situation at 535 East Seventy-third Street, in the early morning hours of 1 September, 1968, as a classic military problem. My forces, gathered and gathering (it was now approximately 3:45 A.M.), occupied the low ground—on the street—while the enemy occupied the high ground—in a five-story apartment house. (‘War is geography.’) Of particular relevance to such a situation are the U.S. Army handbooks—USA-45617990-416

(House-to-House Combat)
and USA-917835190-017 (Tactics of Street Fighting).

“I decided that, although a direct, frontal assault was possible (such an assault is
always
possible if casualties may be disregarded), the best solution would be vertical envelopment. This is a technique developed by the Germans in World War II with the dropping of paratroopers behind the enemy’s lines. It was further refined during the Korean Police Action by the use of helicopters. Attack, up to this time, had been largely a two-dimensional problem. It now became three-dimensional.