Then there was the time we liberated the ... motorcycle. Chuck always wanted a motorcycle (he later got one). Once, he came running into the office,      

        "Bernie! Come quick - I need your help. Got a motorcycle!"

       I went with him. I-95 was daily drawing nearer. Homes stood forlorn and abandoned and few people were abroad in the streets anymore. Now and then muffled demolition charges shook the ground. I imagine the general atmosphere down on River Road where our office was, was not unlike that of the Warsaw Ghetto under siege. In any event, down the block and in back of a house Chuck has spotted a shiny almost new motorcycle. Even in these times when the local streets harbored a few hardy souls carrying bundles and goods they hadn't owned 20 minutes earlier (!), a fullblown motorcycle might be expected to excite some attention. Chuck had it figured out: he hopped in the seat, and I was to stoop low and run on the offside out of sight and push the cycle down the street - where it would appear to be coasting to any inhabitants still left in the block. The plan was to "coast" up into Cleworth's lot and park the 'cycle for the time being in an abandoned garage. This we did.

        Later, and presciently, Father (who was not in on this escapade) and Son contrived to "disappear" somehow just in advance of a detective from the Greenwich Police force. Someone "working on a roof" nearby had reported "theft" of a motorcycle an hour or so ago by two guys seen going down the street with it - one riding - the other bending low somehow and running almost (but not quite, it seems!) out of sight on the other side... It had ended up in the garage downstairs, the detective added.

       I explained as best I could. George (had he been there) would have had complete faith in me in any event. As my fellow scholar and academic in this band (toxicology, remember?), George always relied on Bernie's "...e pluribus unum..." talk to explain everything away to everyone's satisfaction whenever questions arose in any quarter about our collective activities... (But, this time, Truth to tell, I thought to feel the snap of the cuffs momentarily). However, the detective was well-disposed having just had his lunch, and accepted my improbable tale. The "caller from the roof" claimed moreover to be the owner of the cycle. If we would take it back - no further questions. So when Chuck returned, we "drove" the cycle - in the same manner - back to its point of origin and left it. There were some guys tearing off a roof across the way but they seemed to be another demolition crew from somewhere and showed no interest in our comings and goings down below...

       Do you suppose one of them "really" owned that 'cycle? You don't think, do you, that maybe ... Well, maybe so - maybe not. You can't con a real con man - but never be a sucker for your own racket either....