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)
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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)
Jim’s selection of the larger package was the most natural thing to do
under the conditions, but, as I was informed some months afterward, his
eagerness to get the most he could out of the job lost him a fortune.
The smaller package contained a thousand one-thousand-dollar notes.
Just think! A cool million to be had for the plucking, as easily
as was the twenty-thousand-dollar package! But Jim took the matter
philosophically. The congressman, however, was quite ready to tear his
hair.
I met Burns at the Sinclair House the next morning as we’d agreed,
and that night I paid him nine thousand dollars for the two thousand
ten-dollar notes. Two days later I gave two thousand dollars to my
stable partner, Charles Meriam, with instructions to liquidate some
personal notes that were about due. He deposited the money to the
stable account in the Stuyvesant Bank at Broadway and Astor Place,
where I was a large depositor, and with which I had had many cash
transactions. In fact, the cashier, James Van Orden, was my friend
and debtor. I considered he would do about anything in reason that I
asked. Two days after that I made a deposit of ten thousand dollars,
seventy-five hundred of which were the new ten-dollar notes. I passed
the money to the teller and went back in Van Orden’s office and told
him what I had done. I didn’t say anything of the deposit Meriam had
made. The Stuyvesant Bank cleared through the Mechanics and Traders’,
farther down Broadway, so I requested the cashier not to send the new
bills when he made the day’s clearance. He didn’t know why I asked
this, but no doubt believed there was something not altogether right.
However, as he was a reckless speculator in Wall Street, and I had
loaned him money at times when he was much in need of it, and in fact
he was indebted to me about five thousand dollars, he said it would be
all right.
“Mr. Miles,” exclaimed my second foreman, John McGurk, as I walked into
the stable a few days after my talk with Van Orden, “Charley Meriam has
been arrested by Colonel Whiteley, chief of the Secret Service men.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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