The Anderson Tapes (3 page)

RECEPTIONIST: Is Mr. D’Medico expecting you?

ANDERSON: Yes. Mr. Simons set up the appointment.

RECEPTIONIST: Just a moment, please, sir.

[Lapse of fourteen seconds.]

RECEPTIONIST: You may go right in, sir. Through that door and down the hall. First door on your right.

ANDERSON: Thanks.

RECEPTIONIST: You’re quite welcome, sir.

[Lapse of twenty-three seconds.]

D’MEDICO: Come in.

ANDERSON: Afternoon, Mr. D’Medico.

D’MEDICO: Duke! Good to see you.

ANDERSON: Doc … it’s fine seeing you again. You’re looking well.

D’MEDICO: Too much weight. Look at this. Too much. It’s the pasta that does it. But I can’t resist it. How have you been, Duke?

ANDERSON: Can’t complain. I want to thank you… .

D’MEDICO: Of course, of course. Duke, have you ever seen the view from our roof? Suppose we go up and take a look around? Get a breath of fresh air.

ANDERSON: Fine.

[Lapse of five seconds.]

D’MEDICO: Miss Riley? I’ll be out of my office for a few moments. Will you ask Sam to switch on the air conditioner? It’s very stuffy in here. Thank you.

[Lapse of three minutes forty-two seconds. Remainder of recording is garbled and indistinct due to mechanical difficulties.]

D’MEDICO: … do we know? A guy comes in every morning … the place … but … You wouldn’t believe … phones … gadgets that… . The building over there, across the street … windows …

long-range… . We try to keep … murder. Don’t trust… . Over here by the air conditioner. The noise… . Cold for you?

ANDERSON: No. It’s… .

D’MEDICO: Fred told me … campaign… . Interesting. About five men you figured or … me more.

ANDERSON: I know … idea … still… . Of course, I haven’t even gone … it. So I … you a package, Mr. D’Medico.

D’MEDICO: [Completely garbled.]

ANDERSON: No. No, I… . Two months, I’d say … be careful … first investigation. Good men … be in … if we went ahead. So all I got … right … is a hustle. I hoped … might stake … piece of the action.

D’MEDICO: I see … much do you … for this initial… .

ANDERSON: Three grand tops I … most … good men. But no use cutting … like this… .

D’MEDICO: You’ve got … —stand, is personal. My own funds. If it …

good, I’ll have … bring in others. You understand? It will … more

… and also we’ll want … man in. Ours.

ANDERSON: I understand. And thanks … help. I really … can bring it… .

D’MEDICO: Duke … anyone … you can. You … think … Fred Simons will … funds … from him. Let’s … downstairs. Cold …

hell. My face … act up. Jesus.

End of recording. It is assumed the two men returned to the Benefix offices, but that Anderson did not reenter D’Medico’s private office. He departed from the building at 2:34 P.M.

Patsy’s Delicious Meat Market, 11901 Ninth Avenue, New York. Four months previously these premises had been placed under electronic surveillance by the Investigative Division, Food and Drug Administration. The following tape recording, labeled FDA-PMM#198-08, is dated 24 April, 1968. Time: approximately 11:15 A.M.

ANDERSON: Are you Patsy?

PATSY: Yes.

ANDERSON: My name is Simons. I called for three of your best steaks. You said you’d have them ready when I came in.

PATSY: Sure. Here they are, all wrapped.

ANDERSON: Thanks. Add that to my bill, will you?

PATSY: A pleasure.

Thomas Haskins (alias Timothy Hawkins, Terence Hall, etc.); thirty-two; 5 feet 4 inches; 128 pounds; faint white scar on left temple; slight figure; blond hair bleached whiter; a confessed male homosexual. This man’s record included two arrests on charges of molesting male juveniles.

Charges dropped when parents refused to prosecute. Arrested on 18

March, 1964, during raid on bucket shop operation at 1432 Wall Street, Manhattan. Charge dropped. Arrested on 23 October, 1964, on conspiracy to defraud, complaint of Mrs. Eloise MacLevy, 41105 Central Park West, Manhattan, claiming subject had mulcted her of $10,131.56

while promising her high return on investment in porkbelly futures.

Charge dropped. Last known address: 713 West Seventy-sixth Street, New York City. Subject lived with sister (see below).

Cynthia “Snapper” Haskins; thirty-six; 5 feet 8 inches; 148 pounds; red hair (dyed; frequently wore wigs); no physical scars. Four convictions for shoplifting, three for prostitution, and one for fraud, in that she charged $1,061.78 worth of merchandise against a stolen credit card of the Buy-Everything Credit Co., Inc., 4501 Marvella Street, Los Angeles, California. Subject had served a total of four years, seven months, thirteen days in the Women’s House of Detention, Manhattan; Barnaby House for Women, Losset, New York; and the McAllister Home for Women, Carburn, New York. Subject was author of
I Was a B-Girl
(Smith & Townsend, published 10 March, 1963) and
Women’s Prison: A Story of Lust and Frustration
(Nu-World Publishing Corp., published 26 July, 1964).

The premises at 713 West Seventy-sixth Street, New York, were under surveillance by the Bureau of Narcotics, Department of the Treasury. The following is transcription BN-DT-TH-0018-95GT, from a tape recording of the same number (except that the final digits are 95G). Those present have been identified by voice prints and by internal and external evidence. The date and time have not been determined exactly.

HASKINS: … so we’re on the old uppers, darling. The sad story of our lives. Would you like a stick?

ANDERSON: No. You go ahead. What about you, Snap?

CYNTHIA: We live. I boost a little, and Tommy hustles his ass. We get by.

ANDERSON: I got something for you.

CYNTHIA: Both of us?

ANDERSON: Yes.

CYNTHIA: How much?

ANDERSON: Five bills. Shouldn’t take over a week. No sweat.

HASKINS: Sounds divine.

CYNTHIA: Let’s hear it.

ANDERSON: I’ll tell you what you need to know. After that … no questions.

HASKINS: Wouldn’t dream, darling.

ANDERSON: There’s this house on the East Side. I’ll leave you the address and everything I know about the schedules of the doormen and the super. Tommy, I want a complete list of everyone who lives in the place or who works there. That includes day-only servants, doormen, and super. Anything and everything. Names, ages, businesses they’re in, daily schedules—the whole schmear.

HASKINS: A lark, darling.

ANDERSON: Snap, there are two professional offices on the ground floor, one a doctor, one a psychiatrist. I want you to look around.

Furnishings? Safes? Maybe paintings on the walls? Shoe boxes in the back closet? These fucking doctors collect a lot in cash and never declare. Look it over and decide how you’ll handle it. Then let me know before you move.

CYNTHIA: Like you said—no sweat. How do we contact you, Duke?

ANDERSON: I’ll call at noon every Friday until you’re set. Is your phone clean?

CYNTHIA: Here … I’ll write it down. It’s a phone booth in a candy store on West End Avenue. I’ll be there at twelve o’clock every Friday.

ANDERSON: All right.

CYNTHIA: A little something down?

ANDERSON: Two bills.

CYNTHIA: You’re a darling.

HASKINS: He’s a sweetheart, a messenger from heaven. How’s your love life, Duke?

ANDERSON: All right.

HASKINS: I saw Ingrid the other night. She heard you were out. She asked about you. Do you want to see her?

ANDERSON: I don’t know.

HASKINS: She wants to see you.

ANDERSON: Yes? All right. Is she still at the old place?

HASKINS: She is indeed, darling. You don’t blame her … do you?

ANDERSON: No. It wasn’t her fault. I got busted from my own stupidity. How did she look?

HASKINS: The same. The pale, white little mouse made of wire and steel. The essence of bitchery.

ANDERSON: Yes.

Fun City Electronic Supply & Repair Co., Inc., 1975 Avenue D, New York City.

The following tape recording was made by the Federal Trade Commission through a rather unusual set of circumstances. The FTC established electronic surveillance of the aforementioned premises (court order MCC-#198-67BC) following complaints from several large recording companies that the proprietor of the Fun City Electronic Supply & Repair Co., Inc., Ernest Heinrich Mann, was engaged in a criminal activity, in that he purchased expensive commercial LP’s and tape recordings of classical music—operas and symphonies—recorded them onto his own tapes, and sold the tapes at a greatly reduced (but profitable) price to a large list of clients.

Tape FTC-30APR68-EHM-14.

CLERK: Yes?

ANDERSON: The owner around?

CLERK: Mr. Mann?

ANDERSON: Yes. Could I see him for a minute? I want to complain about an air conditioner you people sold me.

CLERK: I’ll get him.

[Lapse of nine seconds.]

ANDERSON: You installed an air conditioner in my place and it conked out after I turned it on. I tested it and it ran a few minutes, then it stopped.

MANN: Would you step into the back office for a few minutes, sir, and we’ll try to solve your problem. Al, handle things.

CLERK: Yes, Mr. Mann.

[Lapse of thirteen seconds.]

ANDERSON: Professor … you’re looking good.

MANN: All goes well. With you, Duke?

ANDERSON: Can’t complain. Took me a while to track you down.

Nice setup you’ve got here.

MANN: What I’ve wanted always. Radio, television, hi-fi equipment, tape recorders, air conditioners. I do good.

ANDERSON: In other words, you’re making money?

MANN: Yes, that is true.

ANDERSON: In other words, it will cost me more?

MANN [laughing]: Duke, Duke, you have always been a—how do you say it?—you have always been a very sharp man. Yes, it will now cost you more. What is it?

ANDERSON: There’s this house on the East Side. Not too far from here. Five floors. Service entrance to basement. I want the basement washed—telephone system, trunk lines, alarms, whatever is down there. The works.

[Lapse of nine seconds.]

MANN: Difficult. With all these terrible robberies on the East Side recently, everyone is most alert. Doorman?

ANDERSON: Yes.

MANN: Back entrance?

ANDERSON: Yes.

MANN: I would guess closed-circuit TV from the back service entrance to the doorman’s cubbyhole in the lobby. He doesn’t press the button that releases the service door until he sees who is ringing. Am I correct?

ANDERSON: One hundred percent.

MANN: So. Let me think… .

ANDERSON: Do that, Professor.

MANN: “Professor.” You are the only man I know who calls me Professor.

ANDERSON: Aren’t you a professor?

MANN: I
was
a professor. But please … let me think. Now… . Yes… .

We are telephone repairmen. The authentic truck is parked in front where the doorman can see it. Uniforms, equipment, identity cards

… everything. We are bringing a new trunk line down the block.

We must inspect the telephone connections in the basement.

Duke? All right so far?

ANDERSON: Yes.

MANN: The doorman insists we pull over to the service entrance… .

ANDERSON: It’s an alleyway leading to the back of the building.

MANN: Excellent. We pull in after he has inspected my identity card.

All is well. The driver stays with the truck. I go in. The doorman sees me on his TV monitor. He releases the lock. Yes, I think so.

ANDERSON: I do, too.

MANN: So? What do you want?

ANDERSON: Everything down there. How the telephone lines come in. Can we break them? How? Is it a one-trunk line? Can it be cut or bypassed? How many phones in the whole building?

Extensions? Alarm systems? To the local precinct house or private agencies? I want a blueprint of the whole wiring system.

And look around down there. Probably nothing, but you never can tell. Can you operate a Polaroid with flash?

MANN: Of course. Clear, complete views. Every angle.

Details.Instructions on what to bridge and what to cut.

Satisfaction guaranteed.

ANDERSON: That’s why I looked you up.

MANN: The cost will be one thousand dollars with half down in advance.

ANDERSON: The cost will be seven hundred dollars with three in advance.

MANN: The cost will be eight with four ahead.

ANDERSON: All right.

MANN: The cost will not include telephone truck and driver. I have no one I can trust. You must provide. Telephone truck, driver, uniform, and paper. You will pay for this?

[Lapse of four seconds.]

ANDERSON: All right. You’ll get your own?

MANN: Yes.

ANDERSON: I’ll let you know when. Thank you, Professor.

MANN: Any time.

From tape recording POM-14MAY68-EVERLEIGH, Segment I, approximately 9:45 A.M.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Jesus, you’re too much. I’ve never met anyone like you. How did you learn to do these things?

ANDERSON: Practice.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: You turn me upside down and inside out. You know all the buttons—just what turns me on. About a half hour ago I was down to one little nerve end, red and raw. You get me out.

ANDERSON: Yes.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: For a moment there I wanted to scream.

ANDERSON: Why didn’t you?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: That bitch next door—she’d probably tell the doorman to call the cops.

ANDERSON: What bitch?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Old Mrs. Horowitz. She and her husband have Apartment Three A, across the foyer.

ANDERSON: She’s home during the day?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Of course. He is, too—most days, when he’s not at his broker’s. He’s retired and plays the market for kicks. Why—I don’t know. He’s got the first buck he ever earned.

ANDERSON: Loaded?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Loaded
and
cheap. I’ve seen her put dog-food cans in the incinerator, and they don’t even have a dog. I was in their place once. I don’t socialize with them, but he called me in one night when she fainted. He panicked and rang my bell. It was just a faint—nothing to it. But while I was in their bedroom I saw a safe that must date from Year One. I’ll bet that thing is bulging. He used to be a wholesale jeweler. Do it again, baby.