The Mad Bomber of New York (23 page)

TO NEW YORK JOURNAL AMERICAN . . .

YOU PEOPLE HAVE LEARNED NOTHING FROM ‘HELL WEEK'—YOU INSIST UPON POISIONING THE MINDS OF PEOPLE AGAINST ME—YOU PUT ME IN THE WORST POSITION—DELIBERATELY—THEN YOU ASK THAT I CONFIDE IN YOU—I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED ONCE AGAIN—I DO NOT TRUST YOU—YOU HAVE THE CHOICE OF PLACING THE MAIN CONTENTS OF THE LETTER I SENT YOU BEFORE THE PUBLIC—OR YOU HAD BETTER HAVE A VERY GOOD REASON FOR NOT DOING SO—I HAVE KEPT MY WORD—I WILL ALSO KEEP MY WORD—YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT—ARE YOU GOING TO TELL THE TRUTH OR WILL YOU BETRAY THE PEOPLE—I WILL BUY A PAPER ON THURSDAY—THE RESPONSIBILITY IS YOURS . . .
– F.P.

Compounding Seymour Berkson's ire over the mischief of the
World-Telegram
, the harsh and ominous response had clearly not been the conciliatory gesture they had hoped for. Again confirmed as genuine, the Bomber's letter immediately triggered a flurry of activity among the
Journal-American
and the New York City Police Department in the hope of averting what now looked like an imminent resumption of bombings. Though its very receipt had the effect of clearing as a suspect Andrew Kleewen, it more importantly told police that the time for rumination was over. Unless an appropriate response could be articulated before the Bomber's deadline of Thursday, January 10—not twenty-four hours from then—the worst fears of the paper and the department could be realized. The earlier decision not to publish the Bomber's message had to change.

On the evening of January 9, Commissioner Kennedy and his top brass once again met with Berkson, Schoenstein, Day, and Mahar at the offices of the
Journal-American.
In a spirited, often contentious, meeting that lasted much of the night, it was finally agreed that the Bomber's first letter, received on December 28, would be published by the paper with the exception of certain censored items deemed by the commissioner to be sensitive in nature, which would be expunged from the disclosure. Berkson would finally get his hard-earned scoop.

The following day, just beneath the wailing front page headline
“
THE MAD BOMBER WRITES!
”
a full copy of the letter, minus the expiration date of the proposed truce and the actual identities of the public officials Lehman, Poletti, and Andrews, appeared in the Bomber's own distinctive printing. The direct quote “
MY DAYS ON EARTH ARE NUMBERED,
” underlined for accent, lay just above the headline. Also appearing on the front page, in a carefully worded message crafted by Berkson and his staff and scrupulously edited by Commissioner Kennedy, a second open letter to the Mad Bomber was placed just beneath the fold, in hopes of placating the Bomber while subtly drawing additional information from him:

F.P.

We are publishing for you and all to see the main contents of your recent letter.

Study fails to explain what you meant by your reference to L----, P----, and A-.

What questions shall we ask these three prominent men?

Please make yourself clear enough for us to understand.

We cannot help you air your grievances unless you help us ascertain what they are.

We repeat our offer to see that your grievances are presented fully and fairly.

We also continue our promise to see that you receive the full benefits of our American system of justice if you will continue your truce and arrange to surrender yourself at the time and place of your choosing.

We realize, too, that time is running out on our chances to be in touch with each other. You will get best results by answering quickly.

We know you kept your word about the truce.

Please write us in the usual way. Make your points clear so that another long delay will not ensue.

City Desk, N.Y. Journal-American

The January 10, 1957, issue of the
New York Journal-American
was purchased by 757,410 enthralled New Yorkers. On that day, the Four Fisherman and the commissioner of the New York City Police Department held their collective breath in the hope that the Mad Bomber was among them.

Their wait was not a long one. At 7:30 p.m. on January 12, the Bomber's response to the second open letter was postmarked in White Plains, New York, and delivered to the
Journal-American
city desk two days later. The dispatch, instantly recognized as containing a treasure trove of information and even the hint of an assuaging tone, was this time regarded as a scrupulously protected secret to prevent a repeat of the
World-Telegram
fiasco and was revealed only to Seymour Berkson's immediate editorial team and the office of the police commissioner. Finally, it appeared that Berkson's perilous dialogue with the Mad Bomber had begun to pay its dividends.

“I WILL EXTEND THIS ONE SIDED ‘TRUSE'
[
sic
]
UNTIL MARCH 1ST—YOUR EFFORT ON MY BEHALF EARNED SAME—NEVER DOUBT MY WORDS—SHOULD I RESUME OPERATIONS AFTER MARCH 1ST I WILL LET YOU KNOW FIRST,” wrote the Bomber. The letter claimed that the bomb discovered at the Times Square Paramount Theater on December 28 had been placed months earlier and thus was in no way to be construed as a breach of his first truce. The Bomber then provided a series of technical details about the size of the couplings and potency of the powder used in several of his prior bombings, and suggested that the future course of events depended on what could be done by the paper on his behalf before March 1. Then, in a barrage of disclosures he began to reveal the origins of his grievance. “I WAS INJURED ON JOB AT CONSOLIDATED EDISON PLANT—AS A RESULT I AM ADJUDGED—TOTALLY AND PERMANENTLY DISABLED—I DID NOT RECEIVE ‘ANY AID'— OF ANY KIND FROM COMPANY—THAT I DID NOT PAY FOR MYSELF—WHILE FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE—‘SECTION 28' CAME UP.” He complained that Con Ed recommended that his claim be brought before the Workmen's Compensation Board, and insisted that the company then blocked his every effort to do so. Lehman, Pelotti, and Andrews, the letter continued, had full knowledge of the “perjurers” who interfered with his case, and promised, according to the Bomber, to conduct an investigation that twenty years later still had not occurred. “I DID NOT GET A SINGLE PENNY FOR A LIFETIME OF MISERY AND SUFFERING—JUST ABUSE.” And then his anger welled:

WHEN A MOTORIST INJURES A DOG—HE MUST REPORT IT—NOT SO WITH AN INJURED WORKMAN—HE RATES LESS THAN A DOG—I TRIED TO GET MY STORY TO THE PRESS—I TRIED HUNDREDS OF OTHERS—I TYPED TENS OF THOUSANDS OF WORDS (ABOUT 800,000)—NOBODY CARED—I GOT A SAMPLE OF WHAT YOU CALL “OUR AMERICAN SYSTEM OF JUSTICE” AT FIRST HAND— AS YOU CAN SEE—I DO NOT WANT MORE OF IT IF I CAN HELP IT—I [AM] DETERMINED TO MAKE THESE DASTARDLY ACTS KNOWN—I HAVE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO THINK—I DECIDED ON BOMBS—YOU PEOPLE ASK ME TO SURRENDER MYSELF—WELL SIR—WHO IS REALLY GUILTY—YOU OR I?-
F.P.

The embossed postal cancellation stamped across the outside of the envelope read simply and ironically, “Pray for Peace.”

Seymour Berkson was delighted with the letter. The Bomber's own words, directed to his newspaper and exclusively his to exploit, would make rich copy indeed. Commissioner Kennedy's detectives, however, far less fascinated by the commercial value of the letter, now focused their investigation on the New York workmen's compensation system, which plainly seemed to be at the heart of the Bomber's grudge.

Sensing that they were edging ever closer to that critical piece of information that would crack the case and anxious to continue the now escalating dialogue, the
Journal-American
's editors and the police commissioner once again agreed upon a slightly redacted version of the Bomber's letter to appear in the paper alongside a third open appeal to “F.P.,” which appeared in the January 15 issue.

“Can you name the perjurers?” the letter asked. “We are as anxious as you to tell the whole truth about your case. But only you seem to have all the facts.”

As James Brussel had informed the police, the Bomber's paranoid and narcissistic personality yearned for attention and respect, and may, in fact, cause him to become frustrated by the safety of long-term anonymity. Here was an opportunity, thought Commissioner Kennedy and his deputies, to play on that egocentric need and to further elicit crucial details through a simple invitation to the Bomber to expand upon his own story. In essence, they hoped to sympathetically massage the Bomber's ego while gently prodding him for particulars. “Your story is convincing,” continued the appeal:

We want to help you, but can only do so if the partial portrait of injustice you have begun to paint is brought into sharper focus. Once it is, we promise to tell your full story to the world. If you have been cheated, as you point out, we will procure the best counsel to aid you . . . If you can give us further details and dates we are assured by competent legal authority that your case
CAN
indeed be reopened with a fair and just hearing of all the evidence you have.

We know you will keep your word. We will keep ours.

The letter concluded with an invitation to “come in and present your case in person.”

Behind the scenes, a coordinated effort between the
Journal-American
, Consolidated Edison Company, the New York Labor Department, and the Police Commissioner's Office further sought to cautiously draw out the Bomber. At both the corporate offices of Consolidated Edison and the Workmen's Compensation Division of the New York Labor Department, clerks busily searched their files, comparing handwriting samples and fact patterns against those presented in the Bomber's letters, while the chairwoman of the Workmen's Compensation Board herself, Angela Parisi, personally hunted, often late into the night, through the board's files and records dating back to 1913, in search of a possible match. At the same time, a calculated effort to appease the Bomber was under way within the pages of the
Journal-American
. On January 16, the paper published a full copy of a letter directed to Seymour Berkson and bearing the signature of Harland Forbes, president of Consolidated Edison Company of New York, expressing his deep concern over the plight of the Bomber in light of repeated references to the company's potential involvement in the matter. In a coordinated ploy to cajole further decisive facts from their wayward former comrade, the message, appearing on official Con Ed letterhead, concluded, “We would welcome some further information regarding the case, such as the date or the nature of the incident. We wish to assure ‘F.P.' that we will make a thorough and impartial reappraisal if we have some facts to work on.” The letter appeared under the bold first-page heading “
WE
WANT TO HELP
.”

Meanwhile, the
Journal-American
editors, with the assistance and request of top police brass, secured a statement from Isidor Lubin, the New York Industrial Commissioner, promising that the state labor department could provide the Bomber a review of his case if warranted. “If an injustice has been done to this person by the Department of Labor,” declared Lubin, “I will do everything in my power to see it rectified.” As with the letter from Con Ed, Lubin's statement appeared prominently of the January 16 issue of the paper and bore the headline “State Promises Review of Case.” In the followup article, individual photographs of both Forbes and Lubin were respectively placed atop the bolded labels “
CONCERNED
. . .
” and “
VOW HELP
. . .
” The conciliatory message to the Bomber was unmistakable.

In the coming days, as all of New York watched and waited for the Bomber's next communication, the
Journal-American
kept up its campaign of assurances. It pledged, through a variety of articles and headlines, “the most scientific medical care” available, and stated that opinions from lawyers specializing in workmen's compensation cases had already been compiled in preparation for a full rehearing of his case. Perhaps overstepping its journalistic bounds, one article even suggested that Commissioner Kennedy's assurance to the Bomber of the best psychiatric care was tantamount to a pledge of “immunity from prosecution.” All of these things, including “top legal counsel,” vowed the
Journal-American
, were available to the Bomber should he merely make himself known through a face-to-face meeting or the furnishing of further particular details.

On Saturday, January 19, the awaited reply, mailed from the general post office on Eighth Avenue and Thirty-second Street, arrived at the city desk of the
Journal-American
. From the moment that Seymour Berkson read the opening salutation—“My dear Friends”—he knew that the dramatic climax of the Mad Bomber case was near—and that the
Journal-American
would be the enthusiastic scrivener to the triumphant episode.

The Bomber's response was, in actuality, two rambling letters, one hand-printed per his usual course, and the other typewritten, both of which were immediately poured over by Berkson and Commissioner Kennedy. The handwritten component immediately proclaimed the words that all of New York yearned to hear: “THANKS VERY MUCH FOR YOUR EFFORT,” began the note. “THE BOMBINGS WILL NEVER BE RESUMED—COME WHAT MAY—YOU PEOPLE HAVE LET THE PEOPLE KNOW—MY PART OF THE STORY—I CANNOT ASK FOR MUCH MORE.”

The typed letter began with the long sought-after revelation coveted by authorities: “I was injured on September 5th, 1931.” It was the missing link that New York police had been waiting for and would have the instant effect of focusing and narrowing the search through the compensation files for the Bomber's specific record. The Bomber indicated that, were he free to act without stigmatizing or hurting “the people who deprived themselves so that my life could be sustained,” he would consider a meeting or even a surrender without delay. “I THINK THAT A FACE TO FACE MEETING COULD BE FIGURED OUT,” continued the Bomber in his handwritten note, “AS THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS THAT COULD THEN BE FREELY DISCUSSED.”