In thus briefly touching upon a period in my life when I depended upon the police to abet my vigilance in the game of obtaining something for nothing, I trust I haven’t caused any one a pang of pain or regret. And so I pause for a while. In a subsequent volume I will, perhaps, go deeper into my experiences with crooks and their relations with the police.
CHAPTER XVI
HARD WORK UNDER GREAT DIFFICULTIES
The day following our reconciliation, Shinburn and I went down to look over the Ocean Bank and its surroundings. It was most essential that we should know the habits of the policemen on the beats around and near the bank, and the comings and goings of the janitor and other occupants of the neighborhood, as well as of the general public, day and night. Therefore it was decided to obtain quarters from which all this could be watched, and a front room on the second floor of the building on Fulton Street, opposite the bank, was hired. From this room two men kept constant watch from January until the time for the trick to be pulled off. Through these men we learned the habits and manners of all who frequented that locality.
Here is one of the results of our watch-tower: About three months after we had been at work we became alarmed at the suspicious actions of a man who constantly hovered around the bank corner. Thinking that he might be a “plain clothes man,”—that is, a detective not in uniform,—I reported the circumstance to Detective Jack McCord, who had the matter investigated, and ascertained that the man was a “look-out” for a near-by gambling game.
Shinburn and I agreed, on the first inspection of the bank building, that, because of the exposed entrance to the bank, and the constant stream of passers-by, which, owing to the near-by ferries and markets, never ceased day or night, it would not do to try to get into the bank by way of the door, and that ingress must be made from above or below. We discussed the advisability of having a room directly over the vault, but decided that, by reason of the massive masonry which we would have to cut through, it would be much more practicable to go through the floor, provided that, in the basement under the president’s room, a room could be secured.
This was finally accomplished, though it took three months of planning, to bring it about.
At the time of our first visit to the bank the whole basement was occupied by one concern. Through Taylor we learned that the lease would shortly expire, and that the tenants, who hired from the bank, had given notice that they would not renew it. In this, Fortune seemed to favor us; but, as the space was very large, we deemed it advisable not to apply for a lease of the whole place, for we could make no show of a legitimate business that would warrant the occupancy of so extensive quarters, and that an attempt to do so would probably lead the bank people to suspect our real purpose. Therefore, even at the risk of losing the chance altogether, we determined not to apply for the place just then, trusting to the hope that some one might apply for the part fronting Greenwich Street, leaving the coveted room under the president’s office, with the entrance on Fulton Street, to us; and relying on Taylor’s ability to keep us posted regarding offers to lease that the bank might receive.
Thus matters remained at a standstill, so far as entering the vault was concerned, for some three months, or until about the middle of March. Then an applicant appeared in the person of one William O’Kell. Taylor at once informed us of the application. On investigation we learned that O’Kell was a money broker on upper Broadway, where he had an office less than one-half as large as the basement under the bank. We, therefore, deemed it safe to let him acquire the lease, trusting to be able to hire from him the part we desired. Scarcely had Mr. O’Kell moved into his new quarters than he was approached by a man calling himself Kohler, who represented himself as being an insurance broker, and stated that he wished to hire the rear part of the basement. Mr. O’Kell was only too willing to sub-let. As Kohler was Shinburn’s brother-in-law, we were soon in possession of the long-desired field of action. At this time we notified the Bank Ring—the police—of our enterprise, and arranged for the necessary protection.
And so we drew nearer and nearer to the coveted goal. But let it not be thought that all was plain sailing from then on. Far from it! for, though we were now directly under the president’s office, yet we were also right beside the steps that led to the offices and the janitor’s living apartments. Two police beats met at the bank corner, and here the policemen on those beats would meet and idly swing their clubs while they gossiped by the half-hour. Then the Fulton Street officer would wander to the janitor’s entrance, where nearly every evening the janitor and his wife would sit until after ten o’clock. Here another conversation would take place.