Free The Mad Bomber of New York by Michael M. Greenburg Page B

had reached the bomb squad and a quiet search of the Paramount had begun. As 3,600 unwitting patrons enjoyed that evening’s movie presentation, an unexploded four-inch “cylindrical object” charged with black powder and a .25-caliber bullet was carried from the building and hurried from the area in the squad’s containment vehicle.
    In what would become a further signature of his operations, Metesky had provided an advance warning of his doings in an effort not only to curtail injuries but also to maximize the potential publicity garnered from the event. Beginning with the Manhattan Paramount, he would, on occasion, place a terse and angry telephone call to his targets or write advance letters warning of his bombs—and scolding the recipients of the consequences of their failure to blame Con Ed for the incidents. With the letter to the Herald Tribune , Metesky accomplished each of these goals. Though, for now, the Tribune itself had resisted publishing the contents of the letter, other local newspapers (as well as a prominent wire service) had obtained a copy and included full-length quotations, over the formal objections of the New York City Police Department.
    The police and the public at large now knew that the person responsible for planting explosive devices in locations throughout the city bore a venomous hostility against the Consolidated Edison Company. Hungry for attention and retribution, Metesky had openly revealed his motives.
    Even with the revelation to the Tribune , police detectives remained in the dark as to who was plaguing the city with these infernal machines. The obvious conclusion that the Bomber was in some way affiliated with Con Ed was muddled by the fact that bombs had turned up in other locations throughout New York, and, in any event, the universe of individuals bearing some kind of grievance against the power company could number in the tens of thousands. As frustration mounted, wild theories began to circulate through the department and the police groped for clues. Following the lead of a former New York City fire marshal in the investigation of a serial arsonist in the 1920s, it was observed that the Bomber seemed to follow a pattern of one bomb per month and that each of these was planted within three days of a full moon. Some in the department theorized that the culprit was a so called “mooner”—“one in whom flashes of lunacy are induced by lunar fullness.” It was even successfully argued that extra manpower be devoted to possible targets during these full-moon periods. The lengths to which the department would go to apprehend the Bomber seemed to expand by the day.
    Wild theories notwithstanding, police detectives pursued every practical lead and parcel of evidence available to them. They analyzed each word of the Bomber’s letter to the Tribune as to both appearance and substance, and they pored through as many relevant Con Ed personnel files as time and manpower would permit. Finally, through the identification of a file from a particularly disgruntled former Con Ed employee and a positive comparison of handwriting samples, detectives began to focus on a possible suspect. In the first week of November 1951, it appeared that an arrest was imminent.

    â€œThis defendant is a particular source of annoyance to the New York City Police. We are firmly convinced that he is not of sound mind.” Chief Magistrate John Murtagh regarded the words of the assistant district attorney with interest as the felony court arraignment began. The suspect, who silently looked on, had been arrested the previous day in his Connecticut home on a charge of sending a threatening letter and a package containing a sugar-laden “bomb” to the offices of Consolidated Edison Company. “He has been sending simulated bombs around the city the past few months,” continued the attorney. “Hundreds of police have been called out at all hours of the day