THE BUILDING AT 535 East Seventy-third Street, New York City, was erected in 1912 as a city residence for Erwin K. Barthold, a Manhattan merchant who owned Barthold, Inc., a firm that dealt in rope, tar, ships’ supplies, and marine gear of all types. On the death of Mr. Barthold in 1931, his widow, Edwina, and his son, Erwin, Jr., lived in the house until 1943. Erwin Barthold, Jr., was killed on 14 July, 1943, while engaged on a bombing mission over Bremen, Germany. This was, incidentally, the city in which his father had been born. Mrs. Barthold died six months after the death of her son, from cancer of the uterus.
The house on Seventy-third Street then passed to a brother of the original owner and builder. He was Emil Barthold, a resident of Palm Beach, Florida and shortly after the will was probated, Emil Barthold sold the house (16 February, 1946) to Baxter & Bailey, 7456 Park Avenue, New York City.
This investment company then converted the town house into eight separate apartments and two professional suites on the ground floor. A self-service elevator and central air conditioning were installed. The apartments and suites were sold as cooperatives, at prices ranging from $26,768 to $72,359.
The building itself is a handsome structure of gray stone, the architecture generally in the French chateau style. The building has been certified and listed by the New York City Landmark Society. Outside decoration is minimal and chaste; the roof is tarnished copper. The lobby is lined with veined gray marble slabs interspersed with antiqued mirrors. In addition to the main entrance, there is a service entrance reached by a narrow alleyway which stretches from the street to a back door that leads to a wide flight of concrete stairs. The two apartments on the top floor have small terraces. There is a small apartment in the basement occupied by the superintendent. The building is managed by Shovey & White, 1324 Madison Avenue, New York.
Prior to 1 September, 1967, for a period of several years, Apartment 3B at 535 East Seventy-third Street had been occupied by a married couple (childless), Agnes and David Everleigh. On or about that date, they separated, and Mrs. Agnes Everleigh remained in possession of Apartment 3B, while David Everleigh took up residence at the Simeon Club, Twenty-third Street and Madison Avenue.
On approximately 1 March, 1968 (this is an assumption), David Everleigh engaged the services of Peace of Mind, Inc., a private investigation agency located at 983 West Forty-second Street, New York. With David Everleigh’s assistance—this is presumed, since he still possessed a key to Apartment 3B and was its legal owner—an electronic device was installed in the base of the telephone in Apartment 3B.
It was a microphone transmitter—an Intel Model MT-146B—capable of picking up and transmitting telephone calls as well as conversations taking place in the apartment. A sum of $25 per month was paid to the superintendent of 534 East Seventy-third Street—the building across the street—to allow Peace of Mind, Inc., to emplace a voice-actuated tape recorder in a broom closet on the third floor of that building.
Thus, it was not necessary for an investigator to be present. The voice-actuated tape recorder recorded all telephone calls and interior conversations taking place in Apartment 3B, 535 East Seventy-third Street. The tape was retrieved each morning by an operative from Peace of Mind, Inc., and a fresh tape installed.
The resulting recordings became the basis of David Everleigh’s suit for divorce (Supreme Court, New York County) on the grounds of adultery (Everleigh v. Everleigh, NYSC-148532), and transcriptions of the tapes have become a matter of public record, which allows them to be reproduced here. It is of some interest to note that the verdict of the trial judge, in favor of David Everleigh, has been appealed by Mrs. Everleigh’s attorneys on the grounds that David Everleigh did not obtain a court order, and had no legal right, to implant an electronic surveillance device in Apartment 3B, despite the fact that he was legal owner of the premises in question.
It is expected this litigation will eventually reach the Supreme Court of the United States and will result in a landmark decision.
The following is an excerpt from the transcription made from the Peace of Mind, Inc., tape recording made at approximately 1:15 A.M. on the morning of 24 March, 1968.
This is tape POM-24MAR68-EVERLEIGH. Those present, Mrs. Agnes Everleigh and John Anderson, have been identified by voice prints and interior evidence.
[Sound of door opening and closing.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Here we are … make yourself at home. Throw your coat anywhere.
ANDERSON: How come a classy place like this don’t have a doorman?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Oh, we have one, but he’s probably down in the basement with the super, sucking on a jug of muscatel. They’re both a couple of winos.
ANDERSON: Oh?
[Lapse of seven seconds.]
ANDERSON: Nice place you got here.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: So glad you like it. Mix us a drink. The stuff’s over there. Ice in the kitchen.
ANDERSON: What’ll you have?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Jameson’s. On the rocks. With a little soda. What do you drink?
ANDERSON: Got any cognac? Or brandy?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: I have some Martell.
ANDERSON: That’ll do fine.
[Lapse of forty-two seconds.]
ANDERSON: Here you are.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Cheers.
ANDERSON: Yeah.
[Lapse of six seconds.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Sit down and relax. I’m going to take off my girdle.
ANDERSON: Sure.
[Lapse of two minutes sixteen seconds.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH: That’s better. Thank God.
ANDERSON: Are all the apartments in the building like this?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Most of them are larger. Why?
ANDERSON: I like it. Class.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Class? Jesus, you’re too much. What do you do for a living?
ANDERSON: I work on a folding machine in a printing plant. For a supermarket newspaper. A daily. Their specials and things like that.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Aren’t you going to ask me what I do?
ANDERSON: Do you do anything?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: That’s a laugh. My husband owns this apartment. We’re separated. He doesn’t give me a cent. But I do all right. I’m the buyer for a chain of women’s lingerie shops.
ANDERSON: That sounds interesting.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Go to hell.
ANDERSON: Are you lushed?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Some. Not enough.
[Lapse of seventeen seconds.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH: I hope you don’t think I make a habit of picking men up off the street?
ANDERSON: Why me?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: You looked clean and reasonably well dressed. Except for that tie. God, I hate that tie. Are you married?
ANDERSON: No.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Ever been?
ANDERSON: No.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Jesus Christ, I don’t even know your name. What the hell’s your name?
ANDERSON: Another drink?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Sure.
[Lapse of thirty-four seconds.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH: I thank you. What the hell’s your name?
ANDERSON: John Anderson.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: That’s a nice, clean, neat name. My name’s Agnes Everleigh—Mrs. David Everleigh that was. What do I call you—Jack?
ANDERSON: Mostly I’m called Duke.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Duke? Royalty, for God’s sake. Jesus, I’m sleepy. …
[Lapse of four minutes thirteen seconds. At this point there is evidence (not admissible) that Mrs. Everleigh dozed off. Anderson wandered about the apartment (supposition). He inspected the intercom system connected to the bells and the microphone in the lobby. He inspected the locks on the windows. He inspected the lock on the front door.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH: What are you doing?
ANDERSON: Just stretching my legs.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Would you like to stay the night?
ANDERSON: No. But I don’t want to go home yet.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Thanks a lot, bum.
[Sound of loud slap.]
MRS. EVERLEIGH [gasping]: What did you do that for?
ANDERSON: That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: How did you know?
ANDERSON: A big, beefy lady executive like you … it had to be.
MRS. EVERLEIGH: Does it show that plainly?
ANDERSON: No. Unless you’re looking for it. Should I use my belt?
MRS. EVERLEIGH: All right.
The following is supposition, supported in part by eyewitness testimony.
When he left Apartment 3B at 3:04 A.M., John Anderson spent a few moments examining the lock on Apartment 3A, across the foyer. He then took the self-service elevator up to the fifth floor, examined the locks, and made his way slowly downward, examining doors and locks. There were no peepholes in apartment doors above the ground floor.
When he exited from the lobby—still unattended by a doorman—he was able to examine the security arrangements of the outside doors and the bell system. He then waited on the corner of East Seventy-third Street and York Avenue for a cab, and rode home to his Brooklyn apartment, arriving there at 4:26 A.M. The lights in his apartment were extinguished at 4:43 A.M. (testimony of eyewitness).