another of Meteskyâs Penn Station bombings, but it was, ironically, an unexploded device planted by him, again at Radio City Music Hall, that would capture the attentionâand fearsâof the city.
At 5:34 on the evening of May 2, 1955, an editor of the New York Herald Tribune received an anonymous phone call from a man who informed him that a bomb had been placed at Radio City. The voice, bristling with anger, insisted that the act was carried out âto get even with the Consolidated Edison Co.â Within minutes, an army of sixty firemen, police officers, and bomb squad detectives converged upon the theater, roped off the area, and, for the next hour and a half, conducted an extensive search of the premises. The investigation yielded nothing, and detectives nervously reopened the theater to movie patrons, concluding that the scare had been nothing but another maddening false alarm.
Later that evening, after the theater had closed and the cleaning crew had begun its nightly task of removing candy wrappers and soda cups from the seats and floors of the auditorium, one of the workers, while scouring the floor beneath seat 125 of the orchestra section, banged into a strange object with his mop handle. With curiosity aroused, the worker knelt down to investigate and there spotted what an extensive ninety-minute police search had failed to reveal: the Mad Bomberâs latest creation wrapped in a red wool menâs sock.
For the second time that evening, police and emergency personnel descended upon Radio City Music Hall. With the usual array of armored bomb squad detectives and equipment on hand, the neatly capped three-and-a-half-inch length of galvanized iron pipe was removed from the premises and transported to a deserted area near the waterfront at West Fifty-third Street, where it was examined and guarded by technicians. As morning approached, the device was brought to the stark concrete military bunkers of Fort Tilden, Queens, a United States Army installation commonly shared with local police for the storing and dismantling of the Bomberâs creations.
After three days at Fort Tilden it was determined by squad detectives that the bomb could be safely defused. An option that earlier had been considered and rejected was the use of a so-called âshaped chargeâ to direct a quick and controlled explosion specifically focused on the end cap of the device, thereby opening the bomb and exposing its undamaged inner workings. While the technique worked in theory, oftentimes the intense charge would have the unintended result of exploding the bomb itself, and it was therefore considered too risky to attempt under the circumstances. In short, the detectives simply did not want to risk a rare opportunity to inspect the Bomberâs latest handiwork.
Using specially fashioned tools, squad detective William Schmitt slowly unscrewed one of the iron plugs, careful to avoid the possibility of a detonative spark. With the device open and its mechanics exposed, he cautiously removed the wires running to the battery, thereby neutralizing the bomb.
Once deactivated, the technicians examined the familiar design and components of the device and confirmed what they already knew: the bomb was the creation of the same individual that had eluded them for years. Fortunately for the 4,500 moviegoers who were in attendance that evening at Radio City Music Hall, the timing mechanism of the device, set for 6:30 p.m., had malfunctioned. A defect in the cheap watch chosen by the Bomber had caused it to stop dead before the hour hand could reach its baleful point of contact. The intact bomb now held by police, however, would serve as a roadmap for the future of the investigationâand an unintended turning point in public awareness of the case.
Further police analysis would reveal that the Radio City bomb, as was the case with most of Meteskyâs other devices, was capable of causing death or serious injury to
At 5:34 on the evening of May 2, 1955, an editor of the New York Herald Tribune received an anonymous phone call from a man who informed him that a bomb had been placed at Radio City. The voice, bristling with anger, insisted that the act was carried out âto get even with the Consolidated Edison Co.â Within minutes, an army of sixty firemen, police officers, and bomb squad detectives converged upon the theater, roped off the area, and, for the next hour and a half, conducted an extensive search of the premises. The investigation yielded nothing, and detectives nervously reopened the theater to movie patrons, concluding that the scare had been nothing but another maddening false alarm.
Later that evening, after the theater had closed and the cleaning crew had begun its nightly task of removing candy wrappers and soda cups from the seats and floors of the auditorium, one of the workers, while scouring the floor beneath seat 125 of the orchestra section, banged into a strange object with his mop handle. With curiosity aroused, the worker knelt down to investigate and there spotted what an extensive ninety-minute police search had failed to reveal: the Mad Bomberâs latest creation wrapped in a red wool menâs sock.
For the second time that evening, police and emergency personnel descended upon Radio City Music Hall. With the usual array of armored bomb squad detectives and equipment on hand, the neatly capped three-and-a-half-inch length of galvanized iron pipe was removed from the premises and transported to a deserted area near the waterfront at West Fifty-third Street, where it was examined and guarded by technicians. As morning approached, the device was brought to the stark concrete military bunkers of Fort Tilden, Queens, a United States Army installation commonly shared with local police for the storing and dismantling of the Bomberâs creations.
After three days at Fort Tilden it was determined by squad detectives that the bomb could be safely defused. An option that earlier had been considered and rejected was the use of a so-called âshaped chargeâ to direct a quick and controlled explosion specifically focused on the end cap of the device, thereby opening the bomb and exposing its undamaged inner workings. While the technique worked in theory, oftentimes the intense charge would have the unintended result of exploding the bomb itself, and it was therefore considered too risky to attempt under the circumstances. In short, the detectives simply did not want to risk a rare opportunity to inspect the Bomberâs latest handiwork.
Using specially fashioned tools, squad detective William Schmitt slowly unscrewed one of the iron plugs, careful to avoid the possibility of a detonative spark. With the device open and its mechanics exposed, he cautiously removed the wires running to the battery, thereby neutralizing the bomb.
Once deactivated, the technicians examined the familiar design and components of the device and confirmed what they already knew: the bomb was the creation of the same individual that had eluded them for years. Fortunately for the 4,500 moviegoers who were in attendance that evening at Radio City Music Hall, the timing mechanism of the device, set for 6:30 p.m., had malfunctioned. A defect in the cheap watch chosen by the Bomber had caused it to stop dead before the hour hand could reach its baleful point of contact. The intact bomb now held by police, however, would serve as a roadmap for the future of the investigationâand an unintended turning point in public awareness of the case.
Further police analysis would reveal that the Radio City bomb, as was the case with most of Meteskyâs other devices, was capable of causing death or serious injury to
Similar Books
