Part 29

As the tariff laws became more complex, the work in the laboratories increased correspondingly. For example, the Tariff Act of 1922 fixed duties on the components of certain imports, such as the amount of calcium fluoride in fluorspar and the amount of silica in glass sand and ferro alloys. Congress also defined in the Tariff Act items such as vinegar, cellulose compounds, hardened and vegetable oils, molasses and sirups. Other laws called for duties on copper, fatty acids, soaps and petroleum. The passage of the laws required scientific analyses of shipments to obtain a precise determination of their dutiable contents.

Until 1936 the laboratories throughout the country operated more or less independently of each other with only a loose system of cooperation between them. But in 1936 a Division of Laboratories was established within the Bureau to direct operations and to fix uniform procedures throughout the service.

In 1953, the then Commissioner of Customs, Ralph Kelly, expanded the duties of the Division of Laboratories and changed its name to the Division of Technical Services. The Division, now located at the Customs Bureau headquarters in Washington, directs the operations of Customs laboratories; furnishes to the Commissioner information on engineering, chemical, statistical, and other scientific and technical developments; plans and standardizes sampling, weighing, and testing standards and procedures; inspects the laboratories; and furnishes any needed engineering services.

This division, under the direction of Dr. George Vlasses, is the smallest of the seven administrative divisions in the Customs Bureau, with only seven employees. In all, the laboratories have a total of 136 employees, of which 76 are chemists. The balance are physical science aides, laboratory helpers, and administrative and clerical employees.

Even though these men and women cannot take people’s motives apart and test them, the relative purity of their motives often is revealed quite clearly to these test-tube detectives.

THE INFORMERS

The giant luxury liner, the SS Ile de France, slid by the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor on October 7, 1938, with her passengers crowding the rail for a view of the skyline of New York. It was a gay crowd, most of them returning from European vacations. But among them were those to whom the arrival meant more than gaiety--it meant life itself. These were the refugees from Hitler’s Germany.

As the tugs shouldered the liner into its berth on Manhattan Island, there was confusion ashore. Scores of people had gathered to greet returning friends and relatives. Customs officers were busy preparing for the rush of passengers to the pier, the inspection of baggage and all the little details that are required when a ship brings its cargo from across the sea.

Among those who came ashore on this day was a dark-haired man of medium build, about 5 feet 7 inches tall and hardly looking his forty-five years of age. He was accompanied by a handsome, beautifully groomed woman wearing a smartly tailored suit. These two obviously were experienced travellers. They waited patiently under the huge sign marked with the letter “C” until their baggage arrived from the ship, and then they sought a Customs inspector to present their baggage declaration.

The Customs inspector took the declaration and glanced at it. He said, “Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Chaperau?”

“That is correct,” replied the dark-haired man. “I believe all of our baggage is in this group.”

The inspector read the declaration and noted that Mr. Chaperau had signed it as a commercial attaché for the Nicaraguan government--which meant that he and his wife were entitled to pass through customs without the formality of a baggage inspection. Mr. Chaperau handed the inspector Nicaraguan passports and a letter signed by the Consul General of Nicaragua in New York authenticating the endorsement on the customs declaration.

“Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Chaperau,” the Customs inspector said, handing back the letter. He quickly placed stamps on the luggage, indicating that the baggage had been cleared to be taken from the pier. The formalities at the pier required only a few minutes. Then the Chaperaus had their luggage loaded into a taxi and they were driven to the Hotel Pierre at the corner of 63rd Street and Fifth Avenue, where they made their home.

The following day Chaperau left the hotel carrying a black suitcase and a hat box. He took a cab to 570 Park Avenue, entered the building, and rang the bell of the apartment occupied by New York State Supreme Court Justice and Mrs. Edward J. Lauer. A maid admitted Chaperau to the apartment and he said, “Please tell Mrs. Lauer that Mr. Chaperau is here. She is expecting me.”

Mrs. Lauer greeted her visitor warmly and exclaimed, “Nat, it is wonderful to see you! Please do come in.” And then Mrs. Lauer turned to the maid and said, “Rosa, take this suitcase and hat box to my room, please. There are some of my things from Paris I told you I was expecting.”

The maid, Rosa Weber, carried the bag and box to Mrs. Lauer’s bedroom. She knew they contained purchases which her employer had made when she and the Judge were in Europe during the summer. They had returned to New York aboard the SS Normandie on September 12, and Rosa remembered the beautiful clothing Mrs. Lauer brought with her. Rosa had helped her unpack, exclaiming over the beauty of the new styles. And Rosa remembered Mrs. Lauer saying, “That’s not all, Rosa. Some lovely things are coming later. They weren’t finished when I left Paris.” Mrs. Lauer also left Rosa with the definite impression that one of the nicest things of all was that she had brought back gowns, hats, and jewelry without paying duty to Customs.

A few days after Chaperau’s visit to the apartment, both Mr. and Mrs. Chaperau were guests of the Lauers at a cocktail party. Among other guests was the famous international financier and playboy--somewhat of a mystery man about New York--Serge Rubenstein.

And then on October 21 Rosa helped Mrs. Lauer prepare for a dinner party in the apartment. Rosa brought her sister along to help with the affair, and again the Chaperaus were among the guests. It was a gay gathering, and after drinks the guests were seated in the dining room.

Rosa could not help but hear everything said by the guests as she served the table. And there was much for them to talk about. At this time war clouds were gathering in Europe.

As the conversation grew more animated, there were loud and bitter denunciations of Adolph Hitler and his treatment of the Jews.

Rosa Weber listened to the denunciations of Hitler with mounting fury. No one noticed that her face was flushed with anger until she crashed a plate of meat onto the table. The guests looked at the maid in open-mouthed astonishment. Into this silence Rosa Weber shouted: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am a real German! If you don’t stop talking about Herr Hitler while I am in this house, I am through here!” And then the maid glared at Mrs. Lauer and said, “Madam, it is up to you.”

For a full thirty seconds there was no sound, and then a babble of protest broke out. Judge and Mrs. Lauer were on their feet shouting. Rosa Weber stalked into the pantry followed by Judge Lauer, who demanded, “Get out of this house immediately!”

Rosa said to the Judge, “All right, Judge, I’ll go.” And she went to her room with her sister to pack her belongings. Chaperau and another guest followed the maid to her room and stood at the door while she was packing. Chaperau snapped, “Hurry up; how long does it take you?”

Judge Lauer came to the room, and Chaperau said to the Judge, “You had better watch when she goes. She might take some of your valuables with her.” With this insult sounding in her ears, the maid hurried from the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

Four days after the dinner party on Park Avenue, a woman entered the Customs building at 21 Varick Street in New York and asked to see the Supervising Customs Agent. She was shown into his office. And it was there that Rosa Weber, in the role of informer, got her revenge. She told what had happened at the dinner. She accused Mrs. Lauer of smuggling Paris gowns and other finery into the United States without paying customs duties. She told agents of the conversation she had overheard between Mrs. Lauer and Chaperau, of remarks that had been made by Mrs. Lauer. She described how she had helped Mrs. Lauer unpack the dresses, and of Chaperau’s visit to the apartment with the black suitcase and the hat box.

While she was packing to leave the Lauer apartment, she said, Chaperau had cursed her and said, “I’m just thinking it over--whether I should arrest you, because I’m from the police department.” She added, “They threatened to have me deported to Germany, and also said that there was no concentration camp here but that I would be put in jail.”

When the maid left the Customs agent’s office that day, agents began a routine check on Nathaniel Chaperau. Rosa Weber was an angry, vindictive woman whose story might have been motivated solely by spite as far as the Customs agents knew. But all such stories were checked, even if the source were a pro-Hitler maid. Each report of a customs violation was handled in the same manner, regardless of the prominence of the accused, when an informant gave such minute details of smuggling as did Rosa Weber.

Agents quickly found that Chaperau conducted a film business from an office at 30 Rockefeller Plaza with the cable address “Chapfilm.” He had prominent connections in the movie world in New York and Hollywood and he boasted of his close friendship with several stars of the entertainment world. On the surface, his business looked legitimate. There was no record that he had ever been engaged in smuggling.