Part 53

Chiselers are constantly seeking ways to avoid paying customs duties. And the female of the species is just as clever and persistent as the male--or, as is more often the case, just as dumb. In the early 1930s, the chiselers found it extremely profitable to smuggle watch movements into the United States from Switzerland. Smuggling reached such proportions that it helped to virtually destroy the American watch industry. The situation became so grave that the Federal government appealed to the Swiss government to cooperate in a program to control the illegal traffic in watch parts. An agreement finally was reached on a treaty whereby the Swiss devised a system of numbering the watch parts and assigning code numbers to importers as a means of discouraging illegal imports.

The treaty helped to wipe out much of the commercial smuggling of watch parts. Despite these efforts the traffic continued through the years to be a profitable venture for smuggling gangs who often persuaded housewives, businessmen, and tourists to act as carriers.

Mrs. Elizabeth Schmidbauer, the plump, middle-aged wife of a restaurant owner in Munich, Germany, was one of those who became a dupe for a watch smuggling gang in 1954. And her trip to the United States to visit a relative--a trip for which she had planned so eagerly and for so long--became a nightmare for her and her family.

The nightmare began in Munich when Mrs. Schmidbauer told friends at her husband’s restaurant that she was going to America with an aunt, Mrs. Anna Obermaier, who was then visiting in Germany. She talked of the clothes she would need and her intention of buying two new suitcases for the trip. Among those in the restaurant who listened with interest to Mrs. Schmidbauer’s excited chatter was a regular customer named Moritz, with whom the Schmidbauers had been on friendly terms for many years.

Two days before her departure from Munich, Mrs. Schmidbauer answered a knock at her door and found that the caller was Moritz, who was carrying two new suitcases. “I heard you say you needed luggage for your trip,” he said, “and here it is.”

Mrs. Schmidbauer invited Moritz into the living room. Over coffee and cakes he told her that he was willing to pay her fare to the United States if she would do him a favor: deliver the suitcases to a friend in New York along with a small parcel.

“What is in the parcel?” Mrs. Schmidbauer asked.

“Watch movements,” Mortiz said. “If you will take them through customs it will save quite a bit of money. I am ready to pay your fare to the United States if you will do this favor for me.”

“But what about the police and the American Customs?” Mrs. Schmidbauer exclaimed. “I may get into trouble if I do this thing.”

“Nonsense,” Mortiz said. “Nothing can happen to you. All you have to do is sew the watch parts into your corset and no one will be the wiser.”

The lure of free passage to the United States was too great a temptation. Mrs. Schmidbauer agreed to the scheme. That night she obtained strips of cloth and sewed most of the watch movements into her corset. The others she placed in her large handbag.

Mrs. Schmidbauer felt that Moritz was telling the truth when he said that she would have no difficulty. If he thought there would be any trouble, then he would not take such a risk himself.

The plan was very simple. When she arrived in New York and was safely through customs, she was to send a cable to her husband saying, “Gut angekommen,” indicating that all was well. Mortiz would keep in touch with her husband. After the receipt of the message, he would cable his friend in New York and instruct him to pick up the suitcases and the watch movements. Once the delivery was made, then she would receive payment for her fare to New York.

Mrs. Schmidbauer left Munich with her aunt, Mrs. Obermaier, and travelled to Southhampton, England, where she boarded the SS Queen Elizabeth for the Atlantic crossing. The big liner reached New York harbor on December 14, 1954, and docked at Pier 90 on the North River at 8:15 A.M.

On the pier everything seemed to go as smoothly as Moritz said it would. The Customs people were courteous. Mrs. Schmidbauer’s luggage was examined by Inspector Abe Pokress. He did not ask to see the contents of her handbag after she told him it contained only personal belongings. And he inquired amiably about her voyage.

“It was a wonderful trip,” Mrs. Schmidbauer said, watching Pokress’ hands move swiftly through her belongings.

She was immensely relieved when Pokress told her she could close her luggage. She quickly strapped the bags shut. The luggage was placed on a handcart by a porter and Mrs. Schmidbauer thanked Inspector Pokress for his courtesy.

But when the handcart was rolled beside an electronic detection device, Pokress saw a warning light begin to blink. The light indicated the luggage contained a quantity of metal--and Mrs. Schmidbauer’s declaration did not list any metal objects, nor had the casual examination revealed any.

Pokress ordered the luggage returned to his station. He asked Mrs. Schmidbauer to open the bags once more.

“What is wrong?” Mrs. Schmidbauer demanded. “You have inspected the suitcases. Why am I being detained like this?”

“You aren’t being detained,” Pokress said. “But I’m afraid we must take another look at your luggage.”

Pokress began to make a thorough examination of the contents of the smaller of the two suitcases. He was unable to find anything which could have caused the electronic device to trigger the alarm signal.

Mrs. Schmidbauer stood watching the search with tears welling in her eyes. She made no further protest as Pokress removed the clothing from the bag and began to measure the inside depth of the suitcase against its outside depth. The measurement disclosed a discrepancy of approximately three-quarters of an inch.

Pokress was reasonably certain the suitcase had a false bottom. He placed the suitcase on a small platform between two metal cabinets standing nearby. The cabinets housed an X-ray device called an inspectroscope, which Customs inspectors and agents frequently used in peering into luggage and boxes suspected of containing contraband made of metal.

Pokress opened the door of one of the cabinets and squeezed into a seat before a small screen similar to a fluoroscope. He turned a few dials and switched on the X-ray. And then on the screen appeared in clear outline the metal fastenings, screws and other hardware used in the construction of the suitcase. In addition the screen showed several rectangular metal objects in the bottom of the suitcase.

Pokress switched off the inspectroscope and emerged from the cabinet. He had Mrs. Schmidbauer taken to an inspection room. And there inspectors discovered that both her suitcases had false bottoms which concealed several thin tin containers. The containers were packed with 759 Swiss watch movements.

A woman inspector led the weeping Mrs. Schmidbauer into a room where she was searched. It was found that she had 167 watch movements sewn into her corset and 26 movements in her handbag. The 952 watch movements were estimated to have a wholesale value of more than $10,000.

Mrs. Schmidbauer tearfully told Customs agents of being approached by Moritz in Munich. She told them of his offer to pay her fare to the United States if she would bring the watch parts through Customs hidden on her person. She said that he told her he had put something in the suitcases but he did not tell her what it was and she did not know that there were watch movements hidden in false bottoms of the luggage. She also told of the arrangement whereby she was to send a message to her husband if all went well.