Of course at such times it would be impossible to do any pounding; and at no time would it do to allow the least amount of light to shine through the windows. To obviate this latter difficulty, we hung thick blankets over the windows, which so covered them that not the least particle of light could get through. At the same time these blankets served to deaden the noise.
Owing to the other burglaries which had been undertaken while waiting to hire the basement office,—and chiefly to the Westminster affair,—we did not get down to the Ocean Bank business until well along in May. From observations we had made we decided that it would be best to complete the job on a Saturday night, as this would, if necessary, give us two nights and one day, and May 23 was fixed upon.
We had had a special set of tools made by an expert, and on May 22 these, together with my explosives and a hydraulic jack, were stored in Kohler’s office. All the locks to this office had been changed by its new tenant, and everything was in readiness to begin the attack on the ceiling the next night.
Saturday I gave orders to have a coach ready, with the team in harness, at my stable, and to be kept so all night in case of any emergency call. And we warned our lieutenants in the room opposite the bank to be continually on the alert. At five o’clock in the afternoon Shinburn and I were in the office with the doors locked, shutters closed, and blankets up, waiting for the janitor to finish his work in the bank and retire to his quarters.
But the janitor did not retire until after ten o’clock; and, in the meantime, we sat in the office, not daring to make any noise lest we be detected by those sitting on the steps without. It was very tedious watching, and it tried our patience to the utmost; but at last we heard the welcome sound of the closing and locking of the door which led to the upper floors, and we immediately prepared for action.
It had been decided to cut up through the bank floor at a place between the dead wall at the Fulton Street end of the building and the front of the president’s desk. This plan was adopted because, in case we should get through the floor and yet not be able to complete the job the same night, the carpet could be replaced over the hole at that point with the least likelihood of its detection.
This spot was very near the Fulton Street side, and, therefore, great care had to be exercised lest the noise of our operations should be heard outside. Consequently, while one did the cutting the other kept his ear glued to a joint in the window shutter, with a string in hand, one end of which was tied to the other’s wrist.
When the plastering of the ceiling was removed, we expected to find an open space between the girders of the floor above. But, instead, we found the space filled with rubble set in cement—a solid mass fourteen inches thick. Here was a dilemma. We had come prepared with tools to cut wood and steel only, and had no implements with which to dig through this obstruction. There was nothing else to do but put off further operations for a week, and, in the meantime, get the necessary tools.
Then a new difficulty presented itself. There was the hole in the plastering, which, with a bank overhead, would appear a very suspicious circumstance to even the most casual observer. It must be hidden. We used up all the mucilage in the office in plastering paper over it, but still it was only too apparent. We could do no more that night, so we watched our opportunity and got away unobserved.
Early Monday morning we scoured the furniture stores to find some article that would be tall enough to cover the break. At last we found, in a second-hand shop in Canal Street, a solid mahogany wardrobe which would serve our purpose. With very little dickering with the Jew owner we bought it and had it hauled to Kohler’s office, where we placed it under the break.