From Boniface to Bank Burglar; Or, The Price of Persecution: How a Successful Business Man, Through the Miscarriage of Justice, Became a Notorious Bank LooterWhite, George M. (George Miles)
History
From Boniface to Bank Burglar; Or, The Price of Persecution: How a Successful Business Man, Through the Miscarriage of Justice, Became a Notorious Bank Looter
White, George M. (George Miles)
Bank robberies -- United States; Criminals -- Biography; White, George M. (George Miles)
But what if the combination had been changed! I rushed to the door,
twirled the dial plate, and--the door was open. To get the keys of
the inner doors from their secret resting-place was but the work of a
moment, and then we were inside of the vault. There, exposed to our
view, were various boxes containing the securities of the bank and of
many of its customers who used this as a place of deposit for their
valuables.
Taylor had told me where in the vault to find the box containing the
sealed package. This box I at once broke open, took the package, and
went to the toilet room off O’Kell’s office. In order to save time, the
signal that I had arranged for the lookout man was made to work by a
cord. One end of this cord was attached to the signal, the other end I
carried with me as we went to the vault.
As soon as the vault was opened, I pulled the cord. As luck would have
it, the signal was displaced just before the lookout passed, so that
when I reached the window I had but a few moments to wait before he was
back, and that part of the scheme was completed. Meanwhile, Shinburn
had so fixed the lock of the front doors to the bank that it could not
be opened without a locksmith, and we were free from fear of intrusion
from that direction; at least until we should have time to relock the
vault and get below.
From the toilet room I returned to Kohler’s office and proceeded to
pass the tools up through the hole to Shinburn. This was no small
undertaking, for the shutters of the bank had holes near the top which
precluded our having a light in the president’s room. I had had to
work the combination by the light of a cigar, and some of the tools
were pretty heavy, the hydraulic jack alone weighing one hundred and
twenty-five pounds.
All of the tools were wrapped in cloth to prevent clashing; yet it was
ticklish business, lest they should strike against something and so
make noise enough to be heard outside. At last they were all up without
mishap, and I followed. Our next act after getting the tools into the
vault was to close the doors and strike a light.
We then went to the various boxes and sorted their contents, taking
such securities as were negotiable and putting them in a satchel. We
found much jewelry, but did not take any. That was not our graft, and,
besides, we felt that we would have a full load with the money and
bonds. As we inspected them, we placed the boxes at the far end of the
vault and when through with the last one we turned our attention to the
tellers’ safes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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