ACTING ON INTERNAL EVIDENCE contained in the preceding recording, the SEC requested the cooperation of the New York Parks, Recreation and Cultural Affairs Administration. With the help of this agency, a Borkgunst Telemike Mk. IV (a telescopic microphone) was concealed in wooded high ground overlooking the site of the proposed picnic of John Anderson and Ingrid Macht on 17 August, 1968.
The following recording is SEC-17AUG68-#146-37A. It has been heavily edited to eliminate extraneous material and evidence currently under adjudication.
SEGMENT I. 17AUG-11:37AM.
ANDERSON: This was a great idea. Beautiful day. Clear for a change. Not too hot. Look at that sky! Looks like someone washed it and hung it out to dry.
INGRID: I remember a day like this. I was just a little girl. Eight, perhaps, or nine. An uncle took me on a picnic. My father was dead. My mother was working. So this uncle offered to take me to the country for the day. A Saturday, just like this. Sunshine. Blue sky. Cool breeze. Sweet smells. He gave me some schnapps, and then he pulled my pants down.
ANDERSON: Some uncle.
INGRID: He was all right. A widower. In his late forties. Perhaps fifty. He had a great Kaiser Wilhelm mustache. I remember it tickled.
ANDERSON: Did you like it?
INGRID: It meant nothing to me. Nothing.
ANDERSON: Did he give you something, a gift, so you wouldn’t talk?
INGRID: Money. He gave me money.
ANDERSON: Was that his idea or yours?
INGRID: That was my idea. My mother and I, we were always hungry.
ANDERSON: Smart kid.
INGRID: Yes. I was a smart kid.
ANDERSON: How long did that go on?
INGRID: A few years. I took him for much.
ANDERSON: Sure. Did your mother know?
INGRID: Perhaps. Perhaps not. I think she did.
ANDERSON: What happened?
INGRID: To my uncle?
ANDERSON: Yes.
INGRID: A horse kicked him and he died.
ANDERSON: That’s funny.
INGRID: Yes. But it made no difference. I was then ten, perhaps eleven. I knew then how it was done. There were others. Schatzie, the wine! It will be getting warm.
SEGMENT II. 17AUG-12:02PM.
ANDERSON: What then?
INGRID: You will not believe.
ANDERSON: I’ll believe it.
INGRID: For an example, there was this man in Bavaria. Very rich. Very important. If I said his name, you would recognize it. Once a month, on a Friday night, his butler would assemble perhaps six, perhaps ten young girls. I was just thirteen. We would be naked. The butler would put feathers in our hair and tie belts of feathers about our waists and make us wear bracelets of feathers around our wrists and ankles. Then this man, this very important man, would sit on a chair, quite naked, and he would play with himself. You understand? And we would dance around him in a circle. We would flap our arms and caw and make bird sounds. Like chickens. You understand? And this funny butler with gray whiskers would clap his hands to mark time and chant, “One and two, and one and two,” and we would dance around and caw, and this old man would look at us and our feathers and play with himself.
ANDERSON: Did he ever touch you?
INGRID: Never. When he was finished with himself, he rose and stalked out. We would remove our feathers, and we would dress. The butler stood by the door and paid us our money as we walked out. Very good money. The next month we’d be back again. Perhaps the same girls, perhaps a few new ones. Same thing.
ANDERSON: How do you figure his hangup?
INGRID: I don’t. I gave up trying many years ago. People are what they are. This I can accept. But I cannot accept what they pretend to be. This man who fondled himself while I pranced about him clad in chicken feathers, this man attended church every Sunday, contributed to charities, and was—still is—considered one of, the leading citizens of his city and his country. His son is also now very important. At first it all sickened me.
ANDERSON: The chicken feathers?
INGRID: The filth! The filth! Then I learned how the world is run. Who has the power. What money can do. So I declared war on the world. My own personal war.
ANDERSON: Have you won?
INGRID: I am winning, Schatzie.
SEGMENT III. 17 AUG-12:41PM.
ANDERSON: It could have been different.
INGRID: Perhaps. But we are mostly what has happened to us, what the world has done to us. We cannot always make the choice. By the time I was fifteen I was an accomplished whore. I had stolen, blackmailed, had been terribly beaten several times, and I had marked a pimp. Still, I was a child. I had no education. I tried only to survive, to have food, a place to sleep. At that time I wanted very little. Perhaps that is why we are so simpatico. You were poor also … nein?
ANDERSON: Yes. My family was white niggers.
INGRID: Understand, Schatzie, I make no excuses. I did what I had to do.
ANDERSON: Sure. But after you got older … ?
INGRID: I learned very quickly. As I told you, I learned where the money was and where the power was. Then there was nothing I would not do. It was war—total war. I hit back. Then I hit first. That is very important. The only crime in this world is to be poor. That is the only crime. If you are not poor, you can do anything.
SEGMENT IV. 17AUG-12:08PM.
ANDERSON: Sometimes you scare me.
INGRID: Why is that, Schatzie? I mean no bad to you.
ANDERSON: I know, I know. But you never get out. You live with it every minute.
INGRID: I have tried everything—alcohol, drugs, sex. Nothing works for me. I must live with it every minute—so I do. Now I live quietly. I have a warm home. Food. I have money invested. Safe money. Men pay me. You know that?
ANDERSON: Yes.
INGRID: I have stopped wanting. It is very important to know when to stop wanting.
ANDERSON: Don’t you ever want to get out?
INGRID: It would be nice—but if I cannot, I cannot.
[Lapse of seven seconds.]
ANDERSON: You’re some woman.
INGRID: It is my occupation, Schatzie. It is not my sex.
SEGMENT V. 17AUG-2:14PM.
INGRID: It has been a beautiful afternoon. Are you drunk?
ANDERSON: A little.
INGRID: We must go soon. You must go to work.
ANDERSON: Yes.
INGRID: Are you sleeping?
ANDERSON: Some. …
INGRID: Shall I talk to you … the way you like?
ANDERSON: Yes. Do you like it?
INGRID: Of course.
SEGMENT VI. 17 AUG-3:03PM.
INGRID: Please, Schatzie, we must go. You will be late.
ANDERSON: Sure. All right. I’ll clean up. You finish the wine; I’ll finish the brandy.
INGRID: Very well.
ANDERSON: I would like to tell you what I am doing.
INGRID: Please … no.
ANDERSON: You’re the smartest woman I ever knew. I’d like to get your opinion, what you think of it.
INGRID: No … nothing. Tell me nothing. I do not wish to know.
ANDERSON: It’s big.
INGRID: It is always big. It will do no good to tell you to be careful, I know. Just do what you must do.
ANDERSON: I can’t pull out now.
INGRID: I understand.
ANDERSON: Will you kiss me?
INGRID: Now? Yes. On the lips?