Part 55

Saul Chabot of New York City was also one of the chiselers. Chabot was a slender, middle-aged man with graying sandy hair and bushy eyebrows who had built up a large-scale business in used rags. But the profits from his rag business weren’t enough for Chabot--and he decided to expand his operations into gold smuggling.

Chabot might well have smuggled a fortune in gold from the country had it not been for the alertness of Matthew Jake Berckman of Jersey City, New Jersey. Berckman had joined the Cunard Line’s police force in 1937 and he had remained on this job until 1947, when he was employed as a pier checker, checking automobiles to be shipped abroad.

On February 15, 1951, a 1950 Buick sedan bearing a New York license drove up to the pier where Berckman was checking the cars to be taken aboard the Queen Elizabeth, which was sailing for Cherbourg. The driver of the car identified himself as Saul Chabot. He showed Berckman his contract receipt for shipment of the car aboard the liner. He turned over his keys to Berckman, who assured him that the automobile would be handled carefully.

Berckman told Chabot to remove the cigarette lighter and the contents of the glove compartment and to lock the articles in the automobile’s luggage compartment. When Chabot opened the compartment, Berckman saw there was nothing inside except tools and a spare tire.

He also noticed that although the compartment was virtually empty, the car looked as though it were heavily loaded because it sat low in the rear.

As they were talking, there was a banging from underneath the car. A longshoreman was having difficulty removing the tap from the gasoline tank. Chabot seemed extremely nervous and said, “What’s the matter? What is he doing?”

Berckman replied, “He’s loosening the tap on the gas tank. We can’t take a car aboard the ship until the gas tank is empty.” Then he added, “This is a very heavy car, isn’t it?”

Chabot said, “Yes, these Buicks are very heavy.”

Berckman gave Chabot his receipt. He told him that he would look after his car and he need have no further worry. But Chabot said, “Well, I’ll stay and see that he gets the gas out all right.”

Chabot remained until the gas had been drained from the car and then he walked across the street. Berckman noticed that Chabot hung around for another fifteen or twenty minutes watching his automobile. It was Chabot’s nervousness which aroused Berckman’s suspicions. He decided to inspect the other cars and to show no further interest in Chabot’s car as long as he was around.

After lunch, Berckman went back to Chabot’s automobile to look at it more closely. He saw what appeared to him to be a new welding on the inside of the trunk near the rear fenders. The welding was odd because the car did not look as though it had been in a collision. There was no sign of any damage to the front or rear of the car and the original paint was unmarred.

Berckman went to the office of Customs Inspector Howard Walter and reported his suspicion that the car had been tampered with and that it might be loaded with contraband. Inspector Walter dispatched Inspector Mario Cozzi and James P. Dalton, along with three port patrol officers, to investigate.

The preliminary examination revealed nothing unusual about the car except that it did seem to sag heavily on the rear springs and there was no apparent explanation for the welding near the rear fenders.

Cozzi began rapping on the sides of the car with his knuckles. It seemed solid enough until he rapped on the body just above the rear fenders--and then the rapping gave forth a hollow sound.

“Let’s unbolt one of these fenders and take a look,” Cozzi said.

Three bolts were loosened near the left rear door post. The fender was pried away from the body far enough to reveal a piece of gray cardboard. When Cozzi poked into the cardboard with a screwdriver, he could see it covered a package wrapped in heavy black cloth.

The fender was removed and the searchers found that it concealed a secret compartment containing several parcels--all of them packed with sheets of gold. Two secret compartments yielded eighty-two packages of gold valued at $171,197.

Customs agents were alerted. They kept Chabot’s apartment under surveillance. They were following when he and Mrs. Chabot left the apartment at 9:30 A.M. enroute to Pier 90. The couple boarded the Queen Elizabeth and went to their cabin, D291. And it was there that agents questioned Chabot.

Chabot protested that he knew nothing of any gold hidden in the automobile. He claimed that two weeks earlier a man he knew only as “Carl” had given him $1,900 and told him to go to a used car lot and buy a certain automobile. Chabot said he bought the car for $1,750 and that he turned it over to Carl. Then Carl had brought the car back to him and he had delivered it to the steamship line without any knowledge that the gold had been hidden behind the fenders.

Chabot’s story was not very convincing. He was tried and found guilty on a charge of smuggling and was sentenced to five years in prison.

As for Matthew Jake Berckman, the car checker whose suspicions led to the gold seizure, he was given a reward of $16,119 by the government for his alertness.

* * * * *

Unfortunately, the chiselers sometimes have been found in the ranks of Customs employees. The bad ones have been the exception, but occasionally there have been those who were tempted to make a racket of their places of trust. In one such case an importer of Italian-made men’s wear built up a booming business with smuggled merchandise--acting on the advice and with the connivance of Customs inspectors who drifted into a conspiracy which wrecked their careers.

Giuseppe Battaglia, an enterprising merchant of Milan, Italy, had not the slightest intention of entering into a smuggling operation when he first arrived in the United States in 1952 seeking a market for silk ties, robes, sweaters, pajamas, shirts, scarves, and other men’s wear and accessories.

Battaglia operated a retail haberdashery in Milan which was popular with American tourists, Hollywood movie celebrities, and businessmen who liked the distinctive and expensive Italian styling. Business was so good that the darkly handsome Battaglia decided the time was ripe to develop outlets for Italian-made merchandise in the United States.

He arrived in New York in February, 1952, after making arrangements to act as sales agent for three firms manufacturing ties, gloves and scarves. He was to pay all expenses and receive a straight 15 per cent commission on sales in the United States.

Battaglia had no difficulty in finding a market for his merchandise. Sales of Italian-made clothing and accessories were increasing throughout the country. Business was so promising, in fact, that he expanded his line of men’s wear and became agent for such respected and well-known Italian houses as Galliene, Ratti, Salterio, Longhi and Caelli. He opened an office in the Empire State Building (later moved to 15 West 37th Street) and took a partner, Domenico Guarna, into the business. The partnership arrangement permitted Battaglia to travel throughout the country calling on retail outlets. He also was able to return to Italy on buying trips while Guarna looked after the New York end of the business.

On each return trip from Italy, Battaglia listed on his declaration the samples of silk materials and other merchandise he was carrying with him. He paid the required duty without question.