Life at 9200rpms: Neil Armstrong, Bill Mauldin and his Grieving Lincoln drawing

      When Neil Armstrong, the first man to set foot on the moon, died last week, it marked the passing of a quiet, capable man.  For all of us on Earth, he fulfilled the dream of space travel and all that encompasses.  

      Armstrong along with Apollo astronauts Michael Collins and Buzz Aldrin did what President Kennedy said the United States would do: put a man on the moon by decade's end.

    JFK was killed before the statement came true.  The death of Armstrong reminded me where I was at the time of the President's death in November, 1963.   Most of us who were aware of what happened can recall where we were when we heard the news of Kennedy's death.  

     I was working at the Chicago Sun-Times newspaper when the rare Associated Press news "flash" bells sounded on the teletype machines in the paper's wire room.

   I handed the flash AP copy to the managing editor on duty at the news desk.  It was after 1 p.m. and the morning paper's first edition deadline was only a couple of hours away.  The usual cacophony of the city room quieted as the five bells of the flash message sounded first at the shooting of JFK and then announcing his death in Dallas.

     At the time I didn't know what was happening a mile north in an apartment at State St. and North Av., where Bill Mauldin, a two time Pulitzer prize winning editorial cartoonist, was creating a memorable editorial drawing of  another assassinated president, Abraham Lincoln.  

     The drawing showed Lincoln as he is in the Lincoln Memorial, seated and looking out over the reflective pool on the Mall in Washington.

     Mauldin's drawing showed Lincoln with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, grieving at the news of Kennedy's death.  It was at once simple and complete.  The drawing conveyed the whole message.

     I was working as a copy boy for the paper for a little over two months. Copy boys were the all purpose utility infielders of the newsroom, distributing copy produced by reporters and rewrite men, running errands, in short, doing all the grunt work.

    It was raining in Chicago that afternoon.  It was a soaking rain. I was assigned to go by cab to Mauldin's apartment and bring back his drawing in time for the first edition.  I got cab fare from the assistant city editor, who gave me the address and told me to call the city desk when I had the "package." 

     At Mauldin's North State Parkway apartment building, I took the elevator to an upper floor and was met at the door by Mauldin. He invited me into the apartment, which had a good view of Lincoln Park to the north.

     He offered me coffee as he retrieved the drawing, "the package."  He showed me the Grieving Lincoln and it's impact was immediate.  Quite a statement.

    I finished the mug of coffee, called the city desk, and took my leave.  Mauldin found a document tube and slipped the "package" into it. 

     The cab ride back to the paper took only five or six minutes.  I kept the package out of the rain under my coat.  I felt like I was delivering a treasure.

     The first edition of the paper, which is tabloid size, told the news of he President's death on page one and the Grieving Lincoln covered the entire back page.  What a statement.

     

Life at 9200rpms: The Great Drayton Bank Robbery

      This is another in a series of recollections about my time as a trial lawyer in North Dakota.  The story is made possible by my LVAD, a left ventricular assist device, that helps my heart pump 24/7.  I recommend anyone suffering from congestive heart failure to learn more about LVADs.  Mine is manufactured by Thoratec Inc. of Pleasanton, California.

      The case at hand involves one of the FBI's Ten Most Wanted, who was captured February 19, 1987, after robbing the State Bank of Drayton, North Dakota (pop. 824).  Drayton is home to one of American Crystal Sugar Co's sugar beet processing plants that dot the Red River Valley. 

     Thomas George Harrelson, the mastermind, was 29 when he and his two accomplices robbed the bank of $2,807.  During the trial of one of the robbers, the evidence showed the trio had one penny between them before robbing the bank.  They were down to their last cent after putting gas in their uniquely outfitted getaway car.

     The trio did not count on being pursued by an irate banker, who commandeered the car of a bank depositor outside the bank and had her "follow that car." The robbers fled across the Red River into Minnesota and got stuck in a snowbank.  

     They flagged down an unsuspecting farmer, driving a large farm truck taking a load of grain to an elevator. The farmer, his wife, and two of their grandchildren were taken hostage by the robbers.  There were seven persons in the cab of the truck when police and sheriff's deputies finally got the vehicle stopped.

     Bank president Kelly Bakken gave chase to the robbers car, which had a wheelchair strapped to the trunk.  Harrelson shot himself in the  knee sometime during his bank robbery spree that covered 18 months and six states from Arkansas to Illinois to Ohio and finally to North Dakota. 

      He used the wheelchair because he  never sought medical attention for the wound and his leg was bent sharply at the knee so he couldn't walk.  His confederates were Stuart Skarda and Cynthia Ehrlich.

     Harrelson, who was linked to neo-Nazis in Northern Idaho, pleaded guilty to the six bank robberies and received a sentence of more than 34 years.  Ehrlich also pleaded guilty and received a six year prison sentence.  Skarda stood trial and, after being found guilty by a jury, was sentenced to prison for 11 years.

     During Skarda's trial, Kelly Bakken testified that something in him snapped as the bank was being robbed. He said he felt he had to protect the bank's deposits.

     When the trio fled in their wheelchair toting car, Bakken approached a depositor in her car at the curb.  He got in the car and ordered her to "follow that car."   She said that her car's transmission was "iffy" and Bakken said he assured her the bank would buy her a new transmission, if necessary.  

     Bakken and the bank customer pursued the getaway car north out of Drayton and then east across a river bridge into Minnesota.  He said they kept the car in view and when the farm truck became the getaway vehicle, he chased it.  

     The robbers were armed and presumably would have shot at their pursuers.  Despite his efforts the $2807 in bank robbery proceeds were held as evidence until the court proceedings were concluded.

     Moral of the story is never underestimate the resolve of an irate North Dakota bank president when his bank has just been robbed.

     

Life at 9200rpms: Raquel Welch: A Case of Mistaken Identity

     This post is another in a series of recollections from my time as an assistant U.S. attorney.  This entry is made possible by my Thoratec manufactured HeartMate II, LVAD, number 8358, which has kept me alive since April 2, 2010.  I am on a heart transplant waiting list at the University of Minnesota.

     The case at hand involved charges of rape against two young men from what was then called the Devils Lake Sioux Indian Reservation.  It is now the Spirit Lake Indian Reservation.  From the government's perspective, the evidence was straightforward and convincing.  

     Both men were scheduled to change their pleas to guilty but at the last minute they balked.  The judge set the case for the following week and ruled that each defendant would be tried separately.  That meant that all of the witnesses would have to testify in both trials.  For the victim, it meant a double dose of stress from having to recount the incident for two separate juries over a week long period.  
  
  The reason the case was in federal court was because the federal government had jurisdiction. Jurisdiction was based on the federal Major Crimes Act, which provided that crimes against Native American Indians involving Indians as the accused can be tried in U.S. District Court.  This case was assigned for the trial to the Grand Forks quadrant of North Dakota because the Indian Reservation is located in the northeast quarter of the state.

     The accused were Daniel Stacey Makesgood and Clayton (Stubby) Dubois, both about 19 years old.  Makesgood was tried first.  The victim was about the same age.  Drinking was involved. All had been high school classmates.

     Makesgood was found guilty by the jury and his case was set for sentencing.

     As Dubois' trial proceeded, his lawyer, H. Holland Galloway,  Holly to friends and acquaintances, called his client to testify in his own defense.  Consent was the issue.  Did the victim consent to having sex with him?

    Galloway, who was not the most capable criminal defense lawyer, caused a stir when he misidentified the victim in his questioning.  He referred to her as Racquel Welch, the well known celebrity, sex symbol, and movie actress.  Ms. Welch once appeared in a movie wearing an animal skin bikini for the British- release movie One Million Years B.C. in 1966. 

     Of course Ms. Welch was not the victim's name--not even close.

    I objected without saying  why and the trial judge, Paul Benson, summoned the lawyers to the bench. I didn't have to spell out what the basis for my objection was.  The judge took up the cudgels and Galloway got a lecture and was ordered to continue his examination.  

     The very next question contained the name Racquel Welch. At another sidebar at the bench and out of the hearing of the jury, Judge Benson lectured Galloway again.   The judge said, "Mr. Galloway, there is no witness in this case by that name.  The victim's name is XYZ, not Racquel Welch."  In essence, the judge said, get your act together.

     The entire courtroom was in disbelief when Galloway misnamed the victim a third time.  I thought the judge would hold the lawyer in contempt, he was that upset.  This time at the bench when Judge Benson said again what Galloway had done, Galloway clapped his open hand to his forehead.  The slap sounded like a muffled pistol shot.  

     I glanced at the jury as Galloway made his move.  The panel knew exactly what was happening and Galloway knew the jury knew.  Embarrassment does not begin to describe what he must have felt.

   Galloway finished his examination and I began my cross.  I wanted to say:  "Mr. Dubois, you didn't. have sex with Racquel Welch did you?"  I wanted to add but "you would have liked to, wouldn't you."  I kept my mouth shut on the point and generally chewed up Dubois.  Makesgood had testified that he heard the victim's cries for help and his response was to turn up the volume on the radio to drown her out.  

     The second jury found Dubois guilty.  One the day of sentencing, Galloway slunk into the courtroom. The sting he must have felt had lingered.  He made a perfunctory argument concerning sentencing. When the hearing was over, Galloway beat feet for the exit.  He never stopped to talk with his client.  I never saw him in federal court again.  Just as well.

     The judge sentenced each of the defendants to eight years in prison.  They never appealed.  I learned that Galloway went back to his mostly office law practice.  He was the lawyer for the Grand Forks water board.  Fitting, I'd say.

     

     

Life at 9200 rpms: shift colors

     "Shift colors" is a Navy term that generally means a change in a ship's flag flying status.  It's when the American flag on a Navy ship is moved from flying above the bridge on a flagstaff to a lower point on the ship's fantail, signifying that the ship is docked, pier side, or at anchor in a harbor.  

     When the Navy ship gets underway, when anchors are aweigh, the colors are shifted from the fantail to a flag staff above the height of the bridge.  The bo'sun pipes a single long tone and passes the word "Underway. Shift colors."  

     The process is orderly and takes several sailors to complete moving the flag.  In reality there are two national ensigns, one for in port use and another for use underway or steaming.

     In my case, I shifted colors on 18 August from heart transplant wait list status 1-A (head of the line) to 1-B(the next category in line). There was no fanfare, no bo'sun's pipe.  But all is good.  I was not fortunate to obtain the gift of a new heart during my 30 days.  So be it.

     My confidence remains solid.  My LVAD coordinator said that in his experience most LVADs receive their transplants while in 1-B status.  I am solidly confident only because I'm alive and well thanks to my mechanical blood circulation device,  which remains a marvel of modern medicine and surgery to me and other LVAD owners.  

     Thanks to my HeartMate II, no. 8358.  It has been two years, four months, and 18 days since Mayo surgeons hooked me up.  Physicians and nurses at the University of Minnesota have cared for me since then.

     In honor of "shifting colors," I intend to go fly fishing tonight along the lake shore from my Port-a-bote.  Thoreau once wrote something to the effect that some men go fishing all their lives and never realize its not the fish they're after. You are absolutely right, Mr. Thoreau.

The fast lane: My lifeat9200rpms: D-Day -1

     "Bridge to transplant" or "Destination therapy."  Just a few years ago those terms were not in the lexicon let alone within the awareness of those suffering from congestive heart failure.

     Congestive heart failure is usually progressive and irreversible. In the recent past, within 10 years, a diagnosis of CHF was a terminal diagnosis.  A heart transplant was the only solution. Donor hearts are in short supply so the end was clear.  Without a transplant, the body's systems, particularly the kidneys and liver, began to fail. The end result was the end.  There were no alternatives.

     But the biomedical community stepped up, entered the fray, and developed mechanical circulatory support devices.  Thoratec Inc., of Pleasanton, California, invested blood, sweat, and tears into the design and perfection of the present left ventricular assist device.  I have one.  It works efficiently and effectively.  Since April 2, 2010, my HeartMate II, numbered 8358, has kept me alive and kept alive my quest for a new heart.

     In early 2010, The U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved Thoratec's HeartMate II (LVAD) as the only medically implantable device for both "bridge to transplant" and "destination therapy."  There are other LVAD's but only the HeartMate II has FDA approval. The approval came after lengthy, detailed testing, experimental studies, and human trials.  The testing, studies, and trials are ongoing with the aim of improving the LVAD.

     For example, no one knows for sure how long an LVAD will last.  One friend has had one for more than five years, without failure.

     From the examination of HeartMate II pumps recovered after heart transplants, I'm told that Thoratec investigators found that there was negligible wear on the ruby bearings in the pump.  Since the pump has one moving part, the life span of the bearings is a critical function.  Based on the wear and tear found on "used" LVADs, the bearings have an estimated life span of up to 65 years.

    So as I approach the final hours of my 1-A status on the transplant waiting list, I am confident that I'm going to last on my "bridge to transplant." Taking advantage of my head of the line position for 30 days, doesn't spell the end of the story. Without my LVAD, I'd have no confidence in the outcome.  With it I can enjoy life. 

Life at 9200 rpm's: Day 25 as a 1-A

     Today is Day 25 of 30 on the 1-A transplant waiting list at the University of Minnesota Hospital.

    The 1-A status ends Saturday and with it the high alert status.  Since, I'm told, most patients receive transplants while listed as 1-B, alert status is somewhat more relaxed.  

    I have a friend awaiting a heart transplant at Abbott Northwestern in Minneapolis.  He just left his 30 days as a 1-A, and never got any calls.  It happens.

    If a donor heart becomes available for me, my LVAD has made it possible for the last two years, four months and 12 days.  I'm waiting and remain hopeful. 

Life at 9200 rpm's: Sisters under the skin

     The death this week of longtime editor of Cosmopolitan magazine, Helen Gurley Brown, at age 90 called to mind a brief vignette from the 1970's when I was a general assignment reporter for The Chicago Sun-Times newspaper.  

     Thanks to my LVAD, left ventricular assist device, a HeartMate II, No. 8358, I am here to recall the events that follow.  Without old 8358, there would be no As You Were: HeartMate II blog and no number of rpm's would have mattered.  

     In short, my LVAD has been a life saver.  My only hope is that more end stage congestive heart failure patients seek an LVAD.  Life is good.

    Back to the story at hand.  My friend and Sun-Times colleague, Paul Galloway, and I were assigned one day to cover a talk by National Organization of Women and other supporters of the Equal Rights Amendment. 

     The gathering was to be held at Northwestern University in Evanston, the first suburb north of Chicago. It was evening. 

    My assignment was to report any police aspects and counter demonstrator aspects of the story and Galloway was to write a feature story about the content of the speeches. There were no counter demonstrators, no arrests, nothing but speeches. In the end, the story was written jointly.
     
     Ms magazine, under Gloria Steinem, had just launched. Steinem was a very popular figure.  She once wrote an expose of Playboy Club bunnies after working as one.  She recounted an attitude of repression against women and of course sexism. 

    The Equal Rights Amendment cleared Congress in March, 1972. Eventually, 35 state approved the amendment, which is three short of the states required for ratification to make it an amendment to the Constitution. The landmark decision in Roe v. Wade would be decided in 1973.

     Betty Friedan, author of The Feminine Mystique, was scheduled to speak at NU, along with Steinem and others. I recall it was summer and hot.

     I arrived early at Fisk Hall auditorium on the south end of the NU campus.  Fisk housed the Medill School of Journalism, of which I was familiar from graduate school days.  Paul arrived in short order and we took seats front and center of the 500 seat auditorium.

    Before the speakers began the program, I glanced around and saw that Paul and I were the only males in attendance.  While neither Galloway nor I outwardly supported the movement.  As detached reporters it would have compromised that detachment.

     I commented on my observation about us being the only men present. He confirmed my observation.  We were good with that.

     Steinem talked for a few minutes and then introduced the first speaker.  As she scanned the audience, she mentioned the two men present in a non-sarcastic tone:  "And we have two men in the front row...no doubt sisters under the skin."  



     

Life at 9200 rpms: Twenty one days at the head of the line; nine to go

     Situation report on 1-A status.

     The U of MN heart transplant coordinator told me that five more patients have received a heart transplant in the last few weeks.  

     The total is now 18 for the year so far.  The U of MN has performed about 750 heart transplants over the last 30 years.  I am fortunate to be in such experienced surgical hands.

     I believe a fellow LVAD from Fargo was matched with a donor heart that caused my "dry run." That is great news.  He is doing well with his "new" heart.  You're never sure but the timing is right for him to have gotten the heart that was determined no to be a match for me.

     We know that UNOS--the United Network for Organ Sharing--is doing its job.  The transplant coordinator said there has been a lot of activity, which means chances are good that something may happen before the end of my 1-A period. 

     The wait is hard for family and friends.  My wait is tolerable for me because my LVAD, a HeartMate II numbered 8358, has kept me alive and kicking.

     Chance favors the prepared. I have nine more days as a 1-A. I am ready.

My LVAD lifeat9200rpms: The 1-A countdown continues; Day 16 of 30 (brought to you courtesy of my LVAD

My LVAD lifeat9200rpms: Assault with a boat and an oar (made possible by my HeartMate II left ventricular assist device)

     As an assistant U.S. attorney for North Dakota, I prosecuted scores of cases involving the Major Crimes Act.  That is the federal law that gives the government jurisdiction over more than a dozen major crimes on Indian Reservations.  Those crimes range from murder to sexual crimes and include assault with dangerous weapons.

     One of the more novel assault cases involved an assault with a boat and an oar. The facts were that the aggressor in a power boat chased two men in a smaller, slower boat.  The chase was around and around a lake on the Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation.  The lake contained a good sized island that the pursuing boat could not negotiate as quickly as the smaller boat. 

     During the pursuit, the smaller boat was struck from behind numerous times, causing the two men in the smaller boat to be thrown around.  At one point, it appeared to the victims that they would be overrun and sunk.

     The victims headed for a dock and scrambled onto it. The more powerful boat crashed into the dock and its pilot raced at the victims wielding an oar.  He struck both men with the oar.  Neither was seriously injured, but a full sized, wooden oar could kill you.

     The Bureau of Indian Affairs detective investigated the case and the case was presented to a federal grand jury, which returned an indictment charging the defendant with assaulting each of the victims.

     As the case proceeded toward trial, I talked to the victims in advance of their testimony.  I showed them the interview reports prepared by the BIA officer and had each review his report for accuracy.

     I asked one of the victims, who was the bystander so to speak, whether he was scared.  His response:  "Oh yeah.  I was more scared this time than when I got killed before.  I can't swim."

     That statement was pregnant with possibilities.  I asked him about the time he got "killed" and he said that he was once roofing his mother's house.  He wasn't paying attention and he backed into an electrical cable, essentially rendering him dead as it threw him to ground.  He was revived and recovered.

     Being unable to swim and being attacked by the larger boat, caused him to fear that he would be killed.

     During his testimony before the jury I asked only half the question, that is, was he scared?  I left dangling the enticing question about why he was more frightened by the boat pursuit than when he was "killed" the other time.  I was pretty sure the defense lawyer would stumble on the enticement and be unable to refrain from asking a question that he did not know the answer to.

     On cross examination, sure enough, the enticement proved too much for the defense and the question was asked.  The answer brought a howl of laughter from the jury and mortified the defense lawyer.  He should have known better.

     His client didn't testify.  The jury returned a guilty verdict and the accused was sentenced to prison.

     Fifteen years passed and I had gone into private practice.  The defendant in boat and oar case sought me out to represent him in a case involving charges of assaulting federal officers while he was held on a driving while intoxicated charge in the BIA jail.

     His trial concluded when the jury deadlocked.  The judge declared a mistrial.  A hung jury for the defense is like a not guilty verdict in the sense that it shows the government had a weak case.
He was not retried.

     It was the only time I represented the government and the defense with the same defendant. 

My LVAD lifeat9200rpms: Two bumps in the road case (another in a series of recollections made possible by my HeartMate II, which keeps on pumping)

       In early 1983, I was assigned to prosecute Wilford Joseph Jackson in U.S. District Court in Grand Forks.  It was my first trial in North Dakota and it occurred soon after I transferred to the U.S. Attorney's Office in Fargo from the Chicago U.S. Attorney's Office.

     Jackson was accused of involuntary manslaughter in the death by motor vehicle of two women he had been drinking with. It became the "two bumps in the road case." For some unknown reason Jackson drove his car in his front yard in rural St. Michaels, North Dakota, on the Devils Lake Sioux Indian Reservation (now Spirit Lake).  He was doing "cookies," those pedal to the metal spins with the steering wheel cranked to the maximum.  

     In the course of doing "cookies" he ran over and killed his drinking companions, Victoria Alberts and Sylvia Brown. The group drank for a couple of days.  The victims had blood alcohol levels of 0.38 and 0.41.  

     When I got the case, the file consisted of a slender set of FBI FD 302s, the FBI's report of interview forms.  The case at the time hinged on Jackson's statements after being told he was deceptive on an FBI polygraph test.  In an effort to bolster the case, I asked FBI Special Agent Bobby Erwin to review the file with me and see if there were any stones left to turnover.  

     We found one.  A tribal policeman named Fred Longie had an account of the arrest of Jackson that was not in the file.  Longie left law enforcement within a month after Jackson's arrest in July, 1982, to take a better paying job driving a school bus. Without the file review with new eyes, we would not have known about Officer Longie.  I asked that Erwin locate him, interview him, and give him a subpoena to testify in Jackson's trial.

     On the Friday before the Monday start of the trial, Agent Erwin interviewed Longie, who said in essence that he went into the woods near Jackson's house and found Jackson on his knees peering back at the scene where the bodies were found.  Police cars had their lights flashing and Longie walked up behind Jackson, startling him.  Longie quoted Jackson as saying, "I did that. I'm sorry."

    Until Officer Longie's statement, the government's case depended on Jackson's admissions made after a polygraph showed him to be deceptive.  
    
    In the government's case, Agent Erwin testified that Jackson said he couldn't remember what happened or how he found the two dead women in his driveway.   After Jackson took the polygraph, he recalled driving in his driveway, doing cookies and felt a "bump in the road" and "then I felt another bump."

     Jackson said he got out of his car and "there was Victoria in the road and I looked around and there was Sylvia.  I'd run over them.  I was so drunk."
     
     During the trial, Jackson testified.  On direct, his lawyer, Karen Wills, danced around the question of the polygraph and her client's deceptive answers.  In fact, she made it sound like Jackson passed the test and told the truth.

     On cross examination I decided to straighten out the misstatements and misperception Wills left with the jury.  I asked Jackson if he remembered participating in a specialized test, without mentioning the polygraph. Polygraph results are inadmissible in most circumstances but this was different.  Wills invited some factual response.

    I said, "And you did not pass the test, did you?"

    He said he did not pass the test.  I moved on and about a question later in my cross, Wills objected.

     Judge Paul Benson saw the issue and called the lawyers to the bench.  When something serious was occurring, the judge had a habit of taking off his wire rimmed glasses before speaking.  In this instance, he whipped off his glasses and asked the government's position on the state of affairs. 

     I said Wills raised the polygraph issue, created the misimpression in the jurors minds that Jackson passed the polygraph, and under the invited response doctrine, I just straightened out the matter.  I suggested a curative instruction to the jury to disregard the mention of a polygraph.  Wills could not defend herself and the judge took my suggestion, overruling Wills' objection.

     The jury returned a guilty verdict.  Jackson was sentenced to the maximum of three years in prison.  Jackson's appeal at first persuaded the Eighth Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals that his post-polygraph confession was coerced.

      The U.S. Supreme Court took Jackson's case and a related case presenting the same issue and reversed the Eighth Circuit.  The Supreme Court said that post-polygraph admissions or statements were not coerced if the accused, was properly informed of his rights and waived them.  Jackson had been fully advised of his rights, said he understood them, and waived him.

     Based on the Supreme Court's decision, Jackson's conviction for the "two bumps" in the road case was reinstated.

My LVAD lifeat9200rpms: Air Force Captain, a bank robber by day, a missile launch officer by night

     This is another in a series of recollections of my time as a trial lawyer.  It is made possible by my HeartMate II, left ventricular assist device, which was implanted 28 months ago to the day.  My LVAD, number 8358, was made by Thoratec Inc., of Pleasanton, CA. It has relieved my end stage congestive heart failure and has me going like the Ever Ready rabbit in the old commercials.  Thanks to my LVAD, I am awaiting a heart transplant on the waiting list at the University of Minnesota.

     In January of 1983, I was an Assistant U.S. Attorney for the District of North Dakota, having transferred from Chicago to Fargo  a year earlier.  1983 was memorable for two cases I helped prosecute: a U.S. Air Force captain stationed at Grand Forks AFB who robbed banks and the tax protester, anti-government Gordon Kahl, who shot and killed the U.S. Marshal and one of his deputies while wounding four other law men.

    Early in the month, the FBI and local authorities were investigating the daylight robbery of three banks around the air base.  My friend and colleague, FBI Special Agent Spencer Hellekson, who was assigned to the Grand Forks FBI office, was interviewed in a weak moment by a New York Times reporter who was writing a national wrap-up on unsolved bank robberies.  I say that he was interviewed in a "weak moment" because all agents unless authorized were anonymous and eschewed the press.

    Spence, frustrated at the lack of progress in solving the case, told The Times reporter, that the robber would be caught because "you can stand on the hood of a car and see all the way across North Dakota.  There is no where to hide."

     Well, Spence's quote made the paper but that's only half the story. Everyday the Director of the FBI is supplied a media briefing book of all mentions of the agency and The Times article was prominently displayed.  But Spence escaped censure by the Director for talking to the press.  It was no longer the era of J. Edgar Hoover.

     A fellow agent and friend of Spence's, who worked at FBI hq and had access to the briefing book, photo copied the article and sent it to the Grand Forks FBI office.

     The agent drew a caricature of Spence, standing on the hood of a bureau car with a spyglass to his eye.  His comment:  My Gawd Spence you made the New York Times and the directors briefing book.  Regards.

    The cartoon and back story provided a good laugh for those who knew what was going on.

     Within a few days, there was another bank robbery but the robber had the bad sense to rob the same bank a second time.  The teller recognized the robber because he wore a ski mask, a wool hunting shirt, looked portly, and carried a small semi-automatic pistol during the robbery.

     The robber didn't realize that, when word of the robbery circulated, an aroused populous might give chase.  That's exactly what happened.  Farmers in their pickups on the way to town and others gave chase. About two dozen local residents chased the robber in his white compact car.  They weren't in continuous pursuit but were on again off again in pursuit.  Sometimes the speeds got over 100 m.p.h. Police relied on tips from the public to pinpoint the robber's locations.
     
     Eventually, the white Dodge Omni darted into a Grand Forks motel parking lot just ahead of police and the FBI.  The driver was identified as Harold David Spruell, a captain in the United States Air Force stationed at Grand Forks Air Force Base.  He was a ballistic missile launch officer.

     Spruell was arrested.  In the car were the proceeds of the last robbery in a zippered overnight bag, which also contained a wool hunting shirt, a ski mask, and a bed sheet that Spruell had wrapped around his midsection to make him appear portly.  Also in the bag was a loaded Italian made .380 pistol.

     During Spruell's trial in U.S. District Court it developed that he had a game arcade business in the mall in Grand Forks that wasn't doing well financially.  The robbery proceeds were used in the business.  Also during the trial there was testimony that Spruell was an intercontinental ballistic missile launch officer entrusted with one of the two keys required to launch a nuclear missile from a silo deep in the ground of northeastern North Dakota.  

     The more surprising testimony was about the habit of those assigned to missile duty, who spent days underground, to use prescription drugs to remain alert and to go to sleep.  Officers from Strategic Air Command Headquarters in Nebraska attended every session of the trial and took notes.  National security implications were obvious.

     Spruell did not testify.  Another FBI agent, Ken Aldridge, who was based in Fargo, testified about Spruell's "do it yourself bank robbery kit" contained in the zippered overnight bag.

     Ken's wife was in the courtroom audience.  It was about 15 minutes before the trial typically recessed for the day and Aldridge was trying to clear the .380 to demonstrate that it was safe.  

     He was struggling to pull back the slide and was completely focused on operating the mechanism and was not watching where he was pointing the pistol.  Of course, the weapon was empty and safe and Ken did not recall that this weapon had to have the magazine inserted in the butt of the gun to allow the slide to operate.  He continued to struggle with it and the muzzle was weaving around pointed generally at U.S. District Court Judge Paul Benson, who was oblivious to the machinations.  

     But Ken's wife saw it all clearly and turned to her seat mate and said: "It looks like Ken is going to shoot the judge."   We all laughed when told about it later.

     As the prosecutor, I was powerless to help Ken through his dilemma.  I did the next best thing.  I asked for a short recess and the judge picked up on what was happening and paused, looked at the clock, and recessed the case until the next morning.  By that time, Ken was fully conversant with the workings of the Italian pistol and opened it flawlessly.

    Spruell was found guilty and sentenced to 10 years in prison.  When he was released from the prison in Atlanta, he robbed another bank, was arrested, tried, convicted, and sent back to prison for another 10 years.

     Spence was right.  There was no where for Spruell to run and no where to hide.  The case of the bank robber by day and missile launch officer by night was over.