THE FOLLOWING IS A transcription of a personal tape recording made by the author on 6 November, 1968. To my knowledge, the testimony it contains is not duplicated in any official recording, statement, or transcription now on record.
AUTHOR: This will be recording GO-2B. Will you identify yourself, please, and state your place of residence.
WITNESS: My name is Ira P. Mayer and I live at twelve hundred sixty East Second Street, New York.
AUTHOR: Thank you. Mr. Mayer, as I explained to you previously, this recording will be solely for my own use in preparing a record of a crime that occurred in New York City on the night and morning of August thirty-first to September first, 1968. I am not an officer of any branch of the government—city, state, or federal. I shall not ask you to swear to the testimony you are about to give, nor will it be used in a court of law or in any legal proceeding. The statement you make will be for my personal use only, and will not be published without your permission which can only be granted by a signed statement from you, giving approval of such use. In return, I have paid you the sum of fifty dollars, the sum paid whether or not you agree to the publication of your statement. Is all that understood?
WITNESS: Yes.
AUTHOR: Good. Now then, Mr. Mayer, where were you at about five o’clock on the morning of September first, 1968?
WITNESS: I was driving home. Down East End Avenue.
AUTHOR: And where had you been prior to this time?
WITNESS: Well, I was working. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be working a holiday weekend, you understand, but so many of the men were off or on vacation—taking the Labor Day weekend off, you understand—that the boss asked me to work the night shift. I’m a master baker, and I work in the Leibnitz Bakery at one-nine-seven-four-oh East End Avenue. That’s at One hundred fifteenth Street. My wife was expecting her seventh, and my second-youngest daughter—there was this big dental bill for her. So I needed the money, you understand, so I said I’d work. The union says we get triple time for working nights on a holiday, and also the boss said he’d slip me an extra twenty. So that’s why I was working from four o’clock on August thirty-first to four o’clock the next morning.
AUTHOR: You say you’re a master baker. What do you bake?
WITNESS: Bagels, bialies, onion rolls—things like that.
AUTHOR: And what did you do after you got off work at four on the morning of September first?
WITNESS: I got cleaned up and changed into my street clothes. I stopped for a beer with the boys in the locker room. No bars are open at that time, you understand, but we got a refrigerator and we keep beer in there. In the locker room. We chip in a dollar a week a man. The boss knows about it, but he don’t care providing nobody gets loaded. Nobody ever does. We just have a beer or two before heading home. To relax like. You understand? So then I had one beer and got into my car and headed south on East End Avenue. I usually take First Avenue when I go uptown to work, and East End when I go downtown after work.
AUTHOR: And what happened at approximately five A.M. on the morning of September first?
WITNESS: I stopped for a red light on the corner of Seventy-fourth Street. I started to light a cigar. Then suddenly the door opened on the passenger side, and a guy was standing there. He had a gun, and he poked this gun at me. He held the gun in his right hand, and his left arm was across the front of him, like he was holding his belly.
AUTHOR: Can you describe this man?
WITNESS: Maybe six feet tall. Thin. No hat. His hair was short—like a crew cut. Sharp features. Mean looking. You understand?
AUTHOR: What was he wearing?
WITNESS: It was mostly black. A black jacket, black turtleneck sweater, black pants, black shoes. But he was a white man. You understand?
AUTHOR: And he opened the door on the passengers’ side of the front seat and shoved a gun at you?
WITNESS: That’s right.
AUTHOR: This was on the corner of Seventy-fourth Street and East End Avenue, while you were stopped for a light?
WITNESS: That’s right. I was just lighting a cigar.
AUTHOR: And what was your reaction?
WITNESS: My reaction? Well, right away I thought it was a stickup. Why else would a guy jerk open the door of my car and point a gun at me?
AUTHOR: And how did you react?
WITNESS: How did I react? I felt sick. I had just been paid. With triple-time and the bonus I had almost four hundred bucks on me. I needed that dough. It was spent already. And I thought this guy was going to take it away from me.
AUTHOR: Would you have given it to him? If he had asked for your money?
WITNESS: Sure, I’d have given it to him. What else?
AUTHOR: But he didn’t ask for your money?
WITNESS: No. He got in alongside of me and poked the gun in my side. With his left hand he slammed the door on his side, then went back to holding his belly.
AUTHOR: What did he say?
WITNESS: He said, “When the light changes, you drive south just the way you’re going. Don’t drive too fast and don’t jump any lights. I’ll tell you when to turn off.” That’s what he said.
AUTHOR: And what did you say?
WITNESS: I said, “You want my money? You want my car? Take them and let me go.” And he said, “No, you gotta drive. I can’t drive. I’m hurt.” And I said, “You wanta go to a hospital? Mother of Mercy is back only five blocks. I’ll drive you there.” And he said, “No, you just drive where I tell you.” And I said, “You gonna kill me?” And he said, “No, I won’t kill you if you do what I say.”
AUTHOR: And did you believe him?
WITNESS: Of course I believed him. What else am I going to do in a situation like that? You understand? Sure I believed him.
AUTHOR: What happened then?
WITNESS: I did like he said. When the light changed I headed south. I drove at the legal limit so we made all the lights.
AUTHOR: I don’t imagine there was much traffic at that time on a Sunday?
WITNESS: Traffic? There was no traffic. We had the city to ourself.
AUTHOR: Did he say anything while you were driving?
WITNESS: Once. It was maybe around the Sixties. He asked me what my name was and I told him. He asked me if I was married, and I told him I was and had six kids and one on the way. I thought maybe he’d feel sorry for me and wouldn’t kill me. You understand?
AUTHOR: That’s all he said?
WITNESS: Yes, that’s all he said. But once he kinda groaned. I looked sideways at him, just for a second, and blood was coming out from between his fingers. Where he had his left hand clamped across his belly. I could see blood coming out from between his fingers. I knew he was hurt bad, and I felt sorry for him.
AUTHOR: Then what happened?
WITNESS: At Fifty-seventh Street he told me to take a right and drive west on Fifty-seventh Street, so I did.
AUTHOR: Was his voice steady?
WITNESS: Steady? Sure, it was steady. Low, maybe, but steady. And that gun in my ribs was steady, too. So we drove across town on Fifty-seventh Street. When we got to Ninth Avenue he told me to take a left and drive downtown. So I did.
AUTHOR: What time was this?
WITNESS: Time? Oh, five thirty. About. Something like that. It was getting light.
AUTHOR: What happened then?
WITNESS: I drove very, very carefully, so I made all the signals. He told me to stop at Twenty-fourth Street.
AUTHOR: Which side?
WITNESS: The west side. On the right. I pulled over to the curb. It was on his side. He opened the door using his right hand, the hand with the gun in it.
AUTHOR: You didn’t think of jumping him at this moment?
WITNESS: You crazy? Of course not. He got out, closed the door. He leaned through the window. He said, “Just keep driving. I will stand here and watch to make sure that you keep driving.”
AUTHOR: And what did you do then?
WITNESS: What do you think? I kept driving. I went on south to Sixteenth Street, and I figured he couldn’t see me anymore. So I stopped and went into a corner phone booth on the sidewalk. There was a sign saying you could call nine-one-one, the police emergency number, without putting a dime in. So I called the cops. When they answered, I told them what had happened. They asked me for my name and address, which I gave them. They asked where I was, which I told them. They told me to stay right where I was and a car would be right there.
AUTHOR: Then what?
WITNESS: I went back to my car. I figured I’d sit in my car and try to calm down until the cops came. I was shaky—you understand? I tried to light my cigar again—I never had got it lighted—but then I saw the seat where he had been. There was a pool of blood on the seat and it was dripping down onto the mat. I got out of the car and waited on the sidewalk. I threw my cigar away.