Part 70

Simon said seriously, “We were informed that you were smuggling twenty small Russians into the country in your suitcases. I’ve got to see if it’s true.”

It was a corny gag but, unexpectedly, The Duchess laughed. “All right, young man,” she said. “Get on with your job and I’ll not trouble you again.”

The visitor from Britain had hardly left Simon’s station when he looked up and saw a well-known film star entering his lane. He knew her immediately from her pictures in the newspapers and from the film he had seen a few days earlier at a neighborhood theater. The papers had said she would be returning to Hollywood from Europe, where she had been working for several months on a new picture.

There had been stories of her appearances in Paris, Rome, Madrid and Monaco, and the usual gossip about the men with whom she had been seen. Now here she was in person--dressed in a fetching suit which had a made-in-Paris look to it. She carried a handsome Italian-made handbag. On her wrist was a watch which Simon saw at a glance was worth several hundred dollars, because it was encrusted with small diamonds.

The actress handed Simon her declaration. It was signed with a carefree flourish--but there were no purchases listed, only personal belongings. Simon felt like groaning when he saw the declaration. It simply didn’t make sense for a well-known actress to be in Europe for six months without making a single purchase of clothing or jewelry.

Simon said, “You are certain you understand the regulations? A good many people don’t know that the declaration must include any wearing apparel purchased abroad, even though it has been worn.” Simon was trying, tactfully, to suggest that if she had any undeclared purchases, she still could “remember” them and amend the declaration without penalty. He didn’t want to make trouble for her because, as he explained later, “I really liked her pictures.” And there was the chance that she didn’t understand the regulations.

The actress snapped, “Of course, I understand. I took these things with me when I left the country.”

It was the tone of voice that did it. Simon shrugged and asked her to open her suitcases. The top layers of clothing were dresses with California designers’ labels attached, and Simon saw they were genuine California models.

Beneath these dresses there were other gowns with no labels on them. But Simon didn’t have to rely on a label to know that these were creations from the houses of Dior and Balenciaga. He recognized their Paris origin from the distinctive stitching and from other small peculiarities of design which were more reliable identifications than labels. A label might be changed or removed--but the work of the French seamstresses could not be altered.

Simon had only to glance through the suitcases to see that the matter had gone beyond his authority. He signalled for one of his superiors. The actress was asked to step into a private room for questioning and for a more thorough examination of her luggage. She was found to be carrying undeclared clothing and jewelry worth $10,800. She was not subjected to criminal prosecution, but she paid into the Treasury the value of the purchases in addition to the stiff penalty for the smuggling attempt. She left New York for Hollywood a much wiser young woman, although she would never feel moved to voice any praise for the Customs Bureau and its employees.

The case of the Hollywood actress is only one minor example of why the Bureau requires that travellers’ luggage be examined upon arrival in the United States. Each year roughly 150 million persons and 43 million vehicles cross and recross the borders. Among those millions are cheats, smugglers and conspirators seeking to evade the payment of duties on imports or trying to bring contraband into the country.

Baggage examinations have been made since the Republic was in its infancy. The system has been continued simply because no one yet has devised a better way to protect the Treasury from those who seek to avoid the payment of legitimate duties. The system remains much the same as it was in the days of George Washington--and without doubt just as annoying to travellers.

There is an old story that Napoleon once assembled his marshals, just before launching a long-planned campaign, to deliver a stirring address on the brilliance of his strategy, the weaknesses of the enemies, and the indomitable spirit of the Napoleonic legions.

“Nothing,” thundered the little emperor, “can stop our march!”

Then a voice piped up from the rear: “Sire, you forget the French Customs!”

The U.S. Customs Service in its more than 170 years of operation has never achieved a position of such bureaucratic eminence as the anonymous storyteller attributed to the French Customs--even though some tired and disgruntled travellers returning from abroad might feel inclined to dispute this point. But there is no doubt that among governmental agencies, the Customs Service has--in Madison Avenue terms--projected a poor image of itself and the importance of the role it plays in protecting the Treasury.

Smuggling and attempts at fraud continue to be big-money problems. During the fiscal year 1960, Customs agents and inspectors made 13,531 seizures of merchandise, narcotics and other imports worth $8,238,649. From these seizures, the Treasury received a total of $1,402,084.24 in fines and penalties--of which $896,159.42 was collected by Customs agents.

While the value of the seizures reported by Customs in one year may seem high, Customs officers are certain that they intercept only a part of the contraband that is brought into the United States. They are equally certain that diligent inspection and enforcement work slow down the operations of the underworld operators, the one-shot smugglers, and the chiselers who--if this deterrent did not exist--would flood the country with illegal imports.

Unfortunately, there is no way in looking at passengers arriving by plane or by ship to separate the honest from the dishonest. The little gray-haired lady with a shawl about her shoulders, wearing steel spectacles and a shy, grandmotherly smile, may have two pounds of heroin concealed beneath her petticoat. And the square-jawed, blue-eyed, All-American business executive with the firm handclasp may be trying to bring into the country a diamond ring and several watches.

Frequently men of wealth try to smuggle purchases past the inspectors merely to see if they can get away with it. Such a case involved a Pittsburgh industrialist who arrived in New York from a trip to Europe. He was a man whose name was well-known in the business world and who was financially able to pay tariff duties on purchases costing tens of thousands of dollars. But when an inspector looked at his new hand-made alligator bags--purchased in Italy--he was reasonably certain the luggage was grossly undervalued on the businessman’s declaration. The inspector called for an appraiser to check his judgment. The appraiser asked the businessman to open one of the bags, and the traveller said belligerently, “Why do you want to open it?” The appraiser replied, “Because I want to see inside. Any objection?” And he proceeded with an examination of the luggage.

Upon opening one of the bags, he found two expensive Patek Philippe watches--rated among the world’s best. Not only did the traveller’s declaration not list any watches, but more than one watch of this particular brand could not legally be imported without a special permit from the agency which handled them in the United States. Another handbag contained several other expensive watches.

When the watches were found, the businessman looked at the appraiser and the inspector and grinned. He said, “Well, now that you’ve caught me, how much is it going to cost? Let me pay you and get on my way.”

The appraiser said, “I’m sorry but it isn’t that simple. This could be a criminal case rather than just a matter of just paying for a mistake.”

By this time the businessman had wiped the smile from his face. He was beginning to sweat. He lowered his voice and said, “Let me speak to you privately.”

The inspector and appraiser took the traveller into a private office, where he apologized abjectly. He explained that he was trying to be a “wise guy.” He said he thought it would be amusing to see if he could bluff his way past Customs and he hadn’t realized the serious implications involved.

“He was a pretty shaken man when he left that office,” the appraiser recalled. “No criminal case was made against him but he did pay a stiff penalty.”

For the transgressions of the few, the great majority must undergo the inconveniences of delay in having their baggage inspected.

There is no doubt that the inspectors who arrive on the job out of sorts, grumpy and even rude make more enemies for the Customs Bureau in dealing with the public than a dozen Customs men could have made working in any other capacity.