Anyhow, the tow truck had no brakes, and since it was key in the great Stone Raids of that time, I have to tell you how we did it. One or the other of us (Chuck or myself) would drive either the tow truck or the Buick - or maybe some other car that day (confuse the cops). Pop would ride in the lead vehicle directing actions, of course. It was paramount however, that the Buick always be in front at all costs, because it was the brakes for the tow truck! The way you stopped the tow truck then was to run into the back of the Buick.      

     Believe it or not this worked in its way and we got away with it for some time, we did. Little whiplash now and then but basically no real problem. Lots of dents though! Well, we took to cruising the back roads of Greenwich during lunch-hour - scouting out prime stones for George. Actually, we would "spot" these stones mostly in the estate walls of the big properties back up North Street and thereabouts. We would watch our chance (rarely anyone about at noon hour up that way). Then we would back the tow truck in up to the wall at George's direction whenever he spotted a slab he liked, whip the tow chain around it and crank it right up out of its place in the wall!

     Then with the stone still swinging in its tow chain or maybe laid up 'neath the winch of the truck, we would drive all the way up to Ridgefield and deposit it in the work pile - or manuver it into some prearranged spot. We did this again and again and it was unbelievable. Once, the chain slipped and the whole giant stone (most weighed maybe half ton - even more - they were big 'uns!) crashed down on George's leg! Wow! I thought it was the finish for sure, I did. But not that old coot... The leg - bloody and with ominous bends and kinks in it - stuck out askew from his torso. But all he had us do was pull him over back against the stone wall for a breather (maybe like ol' Gen'l Wooster when he was heaving out his last).

     But soon George had pulled himself erect and limped over to the car. Nothing much was ever said thereafter about it. He limped a few days. End of it. All in day's work.

     I have often wondered though about what the owners of these places thought when they returned in the evening to their walled estates - and there in the middle of the 100-year-old wall grandad had had built by all those Eye-talian workers back then - why there was a great big hole! A great big hole where a perfect slab of granite had lain since the day it was first jockeyed into place... But, it was gone - and none to explain it. Of such observations, are legends of UFOs, aliens, ghoulies and things that go bump in the night born....