I strongly suspect that Hal’s junior G-Man job paid for the potatoes, but not the meat or the gravy. That came from his side-line of posing as a Republican. This was done to sow dissension in the NJ GOP and just to make the Party look bad.

By propagating racist and anti-immigrant ideas, a great evil was perpetrated. Who induced Hal Turner to do this? It’s hard to imagine that the general population of any federal lockup will provide congenial companions for Hal Turner. “Hal from North Bergen” will need lots of favors.

It will all be over when the fat man sings.

SoftCover: ISBN 978-1450-20637-2 ($20.95)

Genre: True Crime / Boxing

Publisher: iUniverse Pages: 268  

Hudson County Congressman Cornelius Gallagher talks about computer ethics, invasion of privacy, and the rise of the technocracy.

 Originally appeared in Information Technology in a Democracy, edited by Alan F. Westin, Harvard University Press, 1971

From Cornelius E. Gallagher, “Computing in Real Time,” a speech given before the Association for Computing Machinery Technical symposium, June 19, 1969.

Mr. Gallagher is a Member of Congress from the Thirteenth District of New Jersey, and Chairman of the Subcommittee on Invasion of Privacy of the House Government Operations Committee.

One of Norman Mailer’s more fanciful conceits is that tuberculosis was the disease which best characterizes the nineteenth century and that cancer, in the same sense, is the disease of the twentieth century. Those who quietly and elegantly languished, gradually diminishing into death, seem to Mailer to sum up an age in which time moves slowly and medita­tively. But the twentieth-century society is symbolized by a literal ex­plosion of the life process; cells, reflecting hyperactive modern life, multi­ply so rapidly that they overwhelm their host.

 Mailer’s pungent metaphor is a useful and provocative comparison. In terms of this audience, we should change the image to read the quill pen expressing the nineteenth century and the computer characterizing the twentieth. But we should not discard cancer, for Erich Fromm, in The Revolution of Hope: Toward a Humanized Technology, says, “Com­puters should become a functional part in a life oriented social system and not a cancer which begins to play havoc and eventually kills the sys­tem.”

 This is, admittedly, a rather oblique entrance into a speech called “Computing in Real Time,” but it does highlight a view of the computer which is becoming increasingly prevalent. It is a view which must be recognized by computer professionals, for humanist doubts underlay the distrust of mechanistic decision-making.

 From the vantage point of a century or so, it is possible to dismiss the Luddites in England as sadly disillusioned and rather pathetic figures. However, it is a fact that they were able to destroy machines and cripple factories. In the same sense, it is possible to dismiss computer critics today as merely naive and uninformed anti-intellectuals who simply do not understand the rationale of computing. But computer profes­sionals and managers must build in relevance to their computer applica­tions. Many of your installations may suffer from a confrontation with those who act in a manner similar to the Luddites. One of the cries of the New Left is “open it up, or shut it down.” In another hundred years it is to be devoutly hoped that these people will seem just as ir­relevant as the Luddites do now. We can make sure that that happy pro­jection becomes a reality if it is possible, now, to open up computerized information systems to the legitimate demands of the people whose dossiers create the input and the output of many systems.

 It has not been the purpose of my investigations into computer pri­vacy to encourage those who oppose all computer applications. The rewards and benefits of the computer are too essential to the health and survival of modern society. But it is extremely important that computer professionals realize that there is a body of opinion which questions the very foundations of your work.

 You do not massage your data in a cloister; you are computing in real time.

But let us “disanthropomorphize” the discussion by considering some views of computer applications which restrict themselves to non-fiction. Many men, representing various viewpoints, have commented, rather unkindly, upon the current uses of the computer. I would like to give you four examples.

 First is the New Left critic of American society Paul Goodman. Good­man is extremely distressed about the fact that giant corporations employ systems analysis to make computer generated decisions in areas where they have only developed the systems, not the expertise.

 Goodman comments on the results of such insulated decisions re­garding teaching methods: “Somewhere down the line, however, this cabal of decision-makers is going to coerce the life of real children and control the activity of classroom teachers. Those who are directly en­gaged in the human function of learning and teaching have no say in what goes on . . . but the brute fact is that the children are quite inci­dental to the massive intervention of the giant combinations.”

 One does not have to agree with everything Goodman says to appre­ciate the perception of his insights. In addition, of course, he does repre­sent the views of many disenchanted but deeply concerned people in our land.

 Second, Robert Theobald is one of our most respected economists and social commentators. Theobald finds that a misapplication of com­puter technology may further aggravate situations they presume to cure. Although the computer is frequently beneficial in solving serious problems, Theobald says “. . . is also true that our attempts to reverse these trends will be frustrated if we continue to regard the ability of the computer to act with maximum efficiency in carrying out an immediate task as more important than all of our fundamental values put together. As long as we regard these values as of minor importance, to be upheld only when it is convenient to do so, we will be unable to recruit the computer to help us to attain our fundamental goals.”

 Almost all of Erich Fromm’s book, The Revolution of Hope, is mean­ingful to the message of this speech. But I would like to repeat one thing he says about the computer’s ability to store so much data that it assumes a virtually divine status. Core storage as God-head and print-outs as divine revelation can create decisions which are totally counter to a crea­tive use of the intellect. Fromm describes men who rely totally on com­puter generated decision-making data in these terms: “However dreadful the consequences of their decisions may be, they need not have qualms about the rightness and legitimacy of the method by which they arrived at their decision . . . Like Dostoevski’s Grand Inquisitor, some may even be tragic figures who can not act differently, because they see no other way of being certain that they do the best they can. The alleged rational character of our planners is basically not different from the religiously based decisions in a prescientific age.”

 All the questions which have been raised about the ultimate impact of the computer on society are stylishly summarized by one of the most knowledgeable men in America today: Dr. Mesthene asked: “What happens to traditional relationships between citizen and government, to such prerogatives of the individual as personal privacy, electoral consent, and access to the independent social criticism of the press, and to the ethics of and public control over a new elite of information keepers, when economic, military and social policies become increasingly technical, long-range, machine processed, information based, and expert dominated?”

These points assume major importance, for the computer is the world’s fastest growing industry. In 1956, there were about 600 computers with a value of about 340 million dollars. Today there are more than 70,000 computers valued at more than 18 billion dollars.

 Computer capacity has kept pace. IBM has stated that, in 15 years, computers increased in speed by 150 times, and the cost of each computa­tion was reduced to 1/40 or less of the original level.

 And it is predicted that by 1980 computers and computer applications will account for 20% of the Gross National Product.

 If for no other than these financial facts, computing will increasingly be done in real time. And certain other problems have begun to surface.

 When Judge Miles Lord of Minneapolis awarded 480 thousand dollars to a computerized accounting and inventory system user, he said, “His whole business was wrapped around a spool of magnetic tape which was not in his possession and was not even his property.” The firm which sold the system attempted to claim that it was the user’s own workers who were to blame, but the judge felt that under the circumstances, the user could not be faulted for failing to recognize that the system itself was unworkable.

 In spite of the scientific, almost religious, mystique with which out­siders view computing, Judge Lord’s decision once again signals the end of computing as pure science. Legal responsibility will probably ulti­mately rest on the creators of computerized data systems and you will continue to represent, in the main, a part of technology, not science.

 In a May 1969 speech, Admiral Rickover described the distinction be­tween science and technology better than I have ever seen it put before: “Science, being pure thought, harms no one; therefore, it need not be humanistic. But technology is action and often potentially dangerous action. Unless it is made to adapt itself to human interests, needs, values, and principles, more harm will be done than good.”

 And computing technology is certainly where the action is! And action takes place in real time. To carry the metaphor a little further, you must share time with human values. Unless society is to become a terminal patient, every computerized system must have a terminal to which man­kind has access.

 The Congress has taken tentative steps to address itself to the real time in which you are computing. When my Special Subcommittee on Invasion of Privacy initiated Congressional consideration of credit bureaus in March 1968, we had the benefit of the views of Alan Westin. I proposed the following question to Dr. Westin: “Is there a possibility of the formation of a data elite’s manipulating American society by their manipulation of data on individual Americans?” I would like to indicate the range of his remarks by the following excerpts. “There is a dangerous arrogance that can be built up when a small group of people believe that they have the language, the system, and the most scientific way of making decisions. Failure to keep popular participation in public deci­sion-making, and the developing mixture of private and public decision-making in our society creates a dangerous impersonality.”

 He describes a futuristic society in which “. . . there is a gap between those who have a high elite education and everybody else in the society. The people without high intellect feel they are the ones full of emotion, sentiment and love, and view the decision-making elite as cold and calculating. Such a separation is dangerous in a democratic political sys­tem because often what is required is not the wisdom of technical solu­tions or of scientific cost effectiveness, but a wisdom that has to do with leading and inspiring people and convincing them that they have a stake in the system.”

 ”I think it will be a while before the line can be drawn between what can be achieved through new management science techniques and infor­mation systems and what still remains the art of the political process. I am afraid the line is going to get very blurred in the next half decade or decades because it is essentially the poor and the black who want access into and participation in the system. They have never had a voice of the kind the middle classes had in the political system.”

 Dr. Westin envisions society responding to people who want participa­tion now in these terms: “We don’t do things that way any longer; we have new technical ways of making decisions. Why don’t you just ratify those? We can’t let you participate because the planning is so complex that you don’t even know the language and we will often have to make commitments that run 3 or 5 years ahead.”

 I am afraid that these opinions of Dr. Westin’s are, in essence, correct. I find it very disturbing that computerized information systems for deci­sion-making may be heightening rather than lessening our current agonies.

 For it is a fact of the very real time in which we live that people are just not going to wait. Articulate and aggressive segments of our society are insisting upon the right to influence and alter decisions which vitally affect them. Blacks, hippies, students, ghetto parents, and members of the dissenting academy may seem like a wildly disparate group, but they are united on one thing. They all demand a greater piece of the decision-making action, or at the very least, a heightened sense of personal involve­ment in and control over their own destinies. It does not take an especially astute observor to discover that all around us there is real anger and a spreading disenchantment with the goals of government.

These uses of computerized information systems suggest two questions which I feel have yet to be explored in any formal or deeply meaningful way. The first question is: Can machine-based data systems assist in de­centralizing decision-making? Is it possible for individuals who are not technologically sophisticated to interface with the data flow?

I have given you a segment of Dr. Westin’s judgment on that issue and it is an opinion which, at this point in time, I share. However, I am also aware that there are those who claim that the computer’s ability to digest so much data will permit a greater variety of views to enter the decision-making mix. Frankly, I do not think a definitive answer has yet emerged and I believe the Association for Computing Machinery could bring knowledgeable insights to the debate. I would urge you, both as indi­vidual members and as an Association, to address yourself to the question.

Second is a problem which, to the best of my knowledge, has never been studied in any coherent or disciplined manner. What are citizen attitudes and opinions regarding the disclosure of personal information to those who operate computerized data systems?

My staff and I have been forced to respond to the many people who have raised that question that probably the largest collection of citizen reaction to machine systems is contained in our own files. They bulge with thousands of letters from concerned people throughout our nation and with hundreds of editorials and articles which support our work in high­lighting the issue of computer privacy.

This is, of course, a wholly unsatisfactory answer to you and I must admit, perhaps reluctantly, that it is also unsatisfactory to me.

Virtually every page of Datamation and Computerworld contains re­ports of new data systems being constructed and of new areas of personal information being reduced to machine-readable form. Yet, to the best of my knowledge, no dispassionate and scientific survey of the attitudes and opinions of the people whose dossiers are forming these systems exists. No answer has been forthcoming to the crucial question of whether these systems are the life-blood of society or are, in reality, a cancer.

When I began my studies of computer privacy, I had hoped to create a climate of concern. I believe that goal has been realized and that someeffective and promising first steps have been taken by professionals in the computer field to translate that concern into practice.

I would hope that anyone who has reliable information about the citizen’s attitude’s toward the computer will communicate with me. Per­haps more important, I would hope that we might commence an in-depth study to discover just what we are doing to our society, and even more important, whether society will permit it.

For there is a disturbing body of evidence which suggests that the ordinary American — that most extraordinary of humans — is becoming supersaturated with the toxic in the tonic of technology. The myriad forms of pollution — air, water, noise — the bomb, highways which destroy neighborhoods, unresponsive federal and local agencies — the list of such outrages to which man is subject is depressingly long.

In March of this year, I had the privilege of addressing the Chicago Chapter of the Institute of Management Sciences. I touched upon these subjects and I described all the investigations I have made into privacy: the lie-detector, psychological testing, the National Data Bank, and business intelligence firms such as credit bureaus. I concluded that speech by developing a concept called “The Intellectual Imperative” which attempted to coalesce my investigations into a coherent theory. I would like to expand on that theme this morning.

Every individual must have certain areas over which his sovereignty is absolute, as long as he is pursuing legitimate aims. Lower animals havea body buffer zone and, as Robert Ardray has so compellingly pointed out, a territorial imperative. Perhaps this can best be represented by the bull ring where the bull himself outlines an area of his own called the querencia. This is a randomly chosen spot where the bull will always re­treat when the pressure of his death struggle with the matador becomestoo intense.

But where can modern man go to gather his strength when he is gored by society? Techniques to assert the individual’s right to a space of psychological control have simply not kept pace with technology’s ability to disclose almost everything to almost everybody.

In Chicago, I described the Intellectual Imperative and its necessity to the needs of modern man in these terms:

Man may choose those in whom he wishes to confide. He may discuss any issue in any terms he may desire and be_. assured that an indis­cretion of phrase or even an indecency of thought will remain pri­vate. A space of psychological control permits ideas to be discussed freely within his territory and with the guarantee that strict public accountability will not follow. It is just this blurring of the public and the private which makes invasion of privacy so obnoxious to personal integrity and civilized society.

The control of the flow of information about yourself, about your actions, about your beliefs, is seen as a crucial aspect of a dynamic society. Urban mass culture has destroyed for most of us the oppor­tunity to exercise freely the Territorial Imperative; the advance of computer and other technologies threatens the Intellectual Impera­tive. Physically, we are constantly in a crowd; intellectually, tech­nology has provided devices to make our forgotten actions and our unacknowledged thoughts known to the crowd.

In short, I believe that the Intellectual Imperative is just as important to humans as the Territorial Imperative is for lower animals. It is ex­tremely dangerous for a matador to violate the bull’s querencia, and it may be equally fatal for society to presume that it can violate the space where the individual’s basic nature resides.

 It seems to be a basic contention of computer-oriented planning that the nature of man is infinitely malleable and that the individual can be made to adapt to any mold deemed suitable for him. If this were true, no one would ever quit a well-paying job and no society would ever undergo a revolution.

And if technology’s might, acting on quantifiable data, could solve all problems, Vietnam would be just a pleasant memory.

 So we must recognize that tools alone will not do the work of man. If we are to survive as a viable and free society, we must make sure that the light of humanity illuminates the direction in which we are moving and that we do not permit any of our technologies to extinguish the fires which warm a fully human life, and which create a spiritually satisfied mankind.

From Voice Printing, How the law can read the voice of crime by Eugene Block

The meeting was a routine monthly gathering of a journalism society in New Jersey.

The invited guest was a young, little-known assistant attorney general, and those who came expected an informal, innocuous address on relations between the press and law-en­forcement agencies. Instead a bombshell exploded and another case of extortion came to light.

To the surprise of everyone, the speaker opened a Pandora’s box. Out of it came a scandal that shook the state for months. It reached into the state house, the legislature, and the courts. When it was over, political heads had fallen after a three-pronged official inquiry conducted separately by a legisla­tive committee, a special grand jury, and the ethical conduct committee of the supreme court.

Highlighting the climax was the introduction of Voiceprints that provided an ending differing from public opinion and a jury verdict that few had foreseen.

The provocative speaker was William J. Brennan III, a son of a Justice of the United States Supreme Court.

At the start of the meeting Brennan launched at once into startling charges of extortion and corruption in the state legislature. Asserting boldly that certain of its members were “too comfortable” with leaders of organized crime, he pointed an accusing finger at a prominent legislator, declaring that he and

two influential lawyers had taken part in an unsavory out-of-court settlement of an extortion case. Even participation of Mafia characters in state affairs did not escape his mention.

Scarcely had the meeting ended when word reached the newspapers, and reporters began delving into what had been dubbed “the loan shark case,” an issue between a businessman heavily in debt and a money lender that had been dropped abruptly when the merchant refused to testify before the grand jury regarding a menacing death threat for which he previously had blamed the other. The threat, he had charged, followed his sudden refusal to continue making allegedly usurious payments on two loans. Although Brennan did not say so at the time, he implied that the debtor had been “bought off.”

The explosive address, given before the New Jersey Chapter of Sigma Delta Chi, took place on an evening in mid-December, 1968, and though much time has passed, it continues to be a subject of reflective discussion and marks a significant victory for Kersta’s Voiceprints.

The startling repercussions from the lawyer’s speech far transcended the importance of the specific case, no doubt because public opinion had turned sharply against loan sharks in the wake of exposes in which some of their victims, although brutally beaten, had refused to press charges for fear of reprisals.

The principals in the case referred to by Brennan were virtually unknown outside of their own little circles. Yet, when finis was finally written to the scandal, three prominent lawyers, one of them a member of the state legislature, and another a legal official of his community, faced suspension from profes­sional practice. Others scurried for cover and two disappeared.

The little-known principals in the early legal controversy were John DiGilio, a thirty-nine-year-old former professional boxer, of Jersey City, who had also been a boatman aboard a tug; and Julius Pereria Jr., chairman of the Middlesex County Young Democrats, who operated the DuRite Car Wash in Woodbridge, a sprawling town in the metropolitan area that has grown to more than 100,000 since World War II.

Because of the many ramifications developing in rapid-fire succession following Brennan’s speech, the story can best be told

chronologically, disclosing how one development led to another.

Only a short time after the fraternity meeting and its exciting disclosures, Edward J. Dolan, prosecutor for Middlesex County in New Jersey, sat behind closed doors with a hastily summoned investigating committee of the legislature, relating what he had learned about the manner in which a grand jury inquiry into Pereria’s accusations against DiGilio had ended some time before.

He explained that Pereria had borrowed $ i,000 on two occasions—the first in 1966, the second a year later—from DiGilio, a heavily built man five feet eight inches tall, agreeing to pay $5o a week interest until he would be able to repay the principal. Despite business reverses the borrower had continued the weekly payments until he had paid a total of _$7,400. Then, deciding that he already had paid far too much, he informed DiGilio that there would be no more checks. The other flew into a rage and walked away.

Not long afterward, according to Dolan’s recital, Pereria had received a telephone call at his place of business from a man who said, “I’ll come down there and chop your . . . head off.”

Badly frightened, Pereria went to the police insisting that the voice was that of DiGilio, which he said he recognized by a peculiar raspy note that contrasted with a rather high tone. It was then August, 1968.

Charges were preferred against DiGilio, but when the case was called before Judge Samuel Sladkus in Woodbridge Munici­pal Court the plaintiff flatly refused to testify. The matter was turned over to the grand jury and again Pereria remained silent. The grand _jury, finding its hands tied, returned a “no bill,” which meant that the matter was ended.

Dolan, in reporting these facts, asserted that he knew there had been an out-of-court settlement; in other words the accuser had been “paid off.” He promised to provide further details at a later time or at the conclusion of a grand jury hearing that already had been started.

With two separate inquiries under way, Dolan pressed hard for grand jury action. Pereria was summoned and this time he was ready to talk. He told of the threats which he swore had

come from DiGilio, adding that three mobsters sent to his car wash business by DiGilio had broken in and damaged it.

The result was an indictment accusing both DiGilio and an associate, fifty-eight-year-old Gerald Grimaldi, of conspiracy in threats and extortion against Pereria. Grimaldi, it was alleged, had introduced the other two; he also had been identified as one of the trio at the car wash.

What Pereria had to tell about the settlement that previously had silenced him became one of many sensations at the trial of DiGilio, which opened on February 4, ¹97⁰, in New Brunswick, the county seat of Middlesex.

Its setting was a study in sharp contrasts. While the nature of the case was grim and forbidding, it was to be aired in a colorful, modernly furnished courtroom on the third floor of the relatively new county courthouse, a five-story structure overlook­ing a century-old county jail.

Judge John B. Melineux, who was to preside, had earlier ordered separate trials for the two defendants, since Grimaldi had suffered a severe heart attack. It was the first of many delays.

Even before questioning of prospective jurors began, Voiceprints became the subject of bitter argument. Defense Attorney Michael Querques had moved for permission to have Lawrence Kersta compare a tape of DiGilio’s voice with a recording made by Pereria at his business place when he received the threatening phone call. His request met with heated opposition from J. Norris Harding, the assistant prosecutor, who accused his opponent of “trying to shift the burden of the defense to the state.”

The court reserved judgment, at the same time ordering a day’s postponement to allow counsel to go to Grand Bahama Island, where the defense claimed it would establish that DiGilio was with others at the time of the phone threat and that no call had gone from the island to New Jersey on that day.

The defendant’s contention was fully verified. DiGilio had scored his first important point.

With resumption of the trial, Voiceprints again became a controversial issue. The court, first having refused to order the state to give the defense recordings of the threatening message,

later relented but reserved the right to bar such evidence. This was based on the fact that the state’s high court had not yet ruled on this new type of evidence.

No sooner had this been disposed of than other delays became necessary. During an afternoon recess DiGilio had fallen overboard from a tug, sustaining painful injuries. There was a squabble over the long postponement demanded by the defense, and the court finally agreed on a two-day recess which later was extended after the defendant was hurt again in an automobile crash.

After still further postponements DiGilio finally returned to court on February 24, and in a short time a jury of seven men and an equal number of women was impaneled.

Harding, the prosecutor, in his opening statement, re­viewed the details of the loan transaction, explaining that Pereria had met the defendant through the latter’s friend, Grimaldi, then owner of a Woodbridge paint store. He went still further, and for the first time details of the cash settlement that sealed the accuser’s lips went officially into the record.

Harding told the _jury that Attorney David Friedland, a member of the State Assembly and its minority leader, had represented DiGilio in negotiating the settlement with Pereria’s lawyer, Norman Robbins, law director of Woodbridge Town­ship. Through their agreement, the prosecutor stated, DiGilio had paid _S6,500 to his creditor and the matter was considered closed.

DIGllio’s attorney, Querques, was on his feet interrupting. He implied that the money had been paid by the lender in good faith “for his own peace of mind” and because he did not wish to worry his pregnant wife.

After the prosecutor had concluded, Pereria was called to the stand as the state’s key witness. Obviously nervous, he related the details of the loan and his difficulty in meeting the weekly payments. “I knew it was shy money,” he testified. “I knew the general procedures. If you don’t pay, you end up with threats or wind up with your head busted.” He even related a conversation with Grimaldi when they discussed the possibility of having the car wash set afire for the insurance.

A titter ran through the courtroom when the witness testified that the New Jersey police “wired me for sound,” referring to a microphone that detectives had secreted in his clothing to obtain recordings of his conversations with Grimaldi, who often reminded him of the dire consequences that might follow his refusal to continue payments.

These tapes, liberally laced with four-letter words, were later read in open court. Spectators had a field day.

Soon afterward the much-talked-of pay-back by DiGilio to Pereria at last became a part of the official court record. The details were disclosed by Assemblyman Friedland, a young man .with thick brown hair and long sideburns, who appeared in an Edwardian gray suit, eager to tell what he knew. With him, as a corroborating witness, was Robbins.

After picturing DiGilio as a troubled man, whose pregnant wife had undergone spinal surgery, Friedland stated that the defendant had paid _$6,500 to Pereria, following arrangements that he said had been concluded on the floor of the legislature after a series of conferences in which Pereria’s demand for a larger sum was finally reduced to the accepted figure. The witness admitted that he had told DiGilio of the possible danger of a civil suit over charges of usury, although others had assured him that he was certain of acquittal on the pending accusations.

In closing, the defense lawyer insisted that his client was innocent of any wrongdoing and had agreed to the payment rather than endure the strain of a trial because of his wife’s illness.

Robbins followed him to the stand with his own version of the money transaction. He said that he had received $1,000 for his services.

During cross-examination of the two lawyer-witnesses strange names flitted in and out of the testimony. There was mention of “The Moose,” of “John the Greek,” and others, but their real identities were not disclosed, though their sobriquets added interest to the courtroom drama.

The defense scored heavily when it opened its case on the morning of March 5. As had been expected, its first witness, Nicholas Vaccaro, testified that he had been with DiGilio and the latter’s wife on a four-day gambling junket to Grand Bahama Island off the Florida coast and that they were _all together there on the day that the defendant was accused of making the threatening call to New Jersey. To prove his story, he showed the jury photographs of the party at the island casino.

Then, on the following day, came the dramatic climax of the trial—Voiceprint evidence. While it had been rumored that the defense had “something scientific up its sleeve,” the appearance of Dr. Tosi came as a complete surprise. Word that something unusual was to happen resulted in a packed court­room.

“Who’s he?” one spectator asked another as the bearded professor, responding to his name, walked briskly to the witness chair.

“The Voiceprint man,” someone whispered; and another, catching the words, followed with: “Voiceprints, what’s that?” They were soon to know.

After Tosi had been sworn and asked about his qualifica­tions, he related that he had received the tape recordings from the defense and had compared the spectograms produced from them.

“Now, Dr. Tosi, what are your conclusions?” asked Attorney Querques in DiGilio’s behalf.

Tosi’s reply caused an excited stir among the spectators. Testifying under oath, he declared that the voices were not the same—in other words, Voiceprints had established that DiGilio was not the man who made the death threats against Pereria.

To further emphasize the impact of the expert’s judgment, defense counsel asked the court’s permission to provide a demonstration. DiGilio read aloud from a transcript of one conversation, playing the role of the extortioner; Detective Captain Silvio Donatelli took Pereria’s part. When they had finished Dr. Tosi looked at the judge repeating what he had said before: “The two voices belong to two different persons.”

To support the Michigan scientist, the defense called a second expert, Dr. Louis J. Gerstman, a psychology professor and speech researcher from New York University, who also had studied the tapes.

“The same voice,” he declared, “could not possibly have made the two recordings. I am certain that these are the voices of two different people.” DiGilio, he went on to explain, “is a tenor while the man who called Pereria had a considerably lower voice.

The defense now had dealt telling blows to the state’s case, but it still had not finished. “And now,” Attorney Querques will

announced, “we             hear from the expert who invented Voiceprints. Mr. Kersta, will you please come forward?”

Necks were craned as the tall, lanky engineer with a gray Van Dyke, walked rapidly down the aisle. He was first asked by the _judge, as had been inquired of the others, whether his testimony would support the defense, for New Jersey was not yet ready to admit such evidence by the prosecution. After assuring the judge that he was appearing in the defendant’s behalf, he proceeded with the usual self-qualifying statements. Then, laying a foundation for the all-important question he was expecting, Kersta told how he had made spectograms of the recordings and had compared them.

“And just what did you find?” the lawyer pressed.

“The unknown voice was not the voice of Mr. DiGilio,” he replied.

Under cross-examination he did not conceal his anger when Harding, the prosecutor, tried to confuse him with a question. Having personally been to the New Jersey laboratory with a detective, Harding had come away with seven spectograms and now he asked the witness how many voices they represented.

Kersta bristled. “I will not jeopardize a scientific tech­nique,” he retorted, “by attempting to read these graphs while I’m on the witness stand. I don’t perform before an audience.”

The question went unanswered.

The jury was informed that each of the experts had reached his conclusion by slightly different methods of comparisons.

The climax of the trial was over, but the defense still had more to say. It called Grimaldi, awaiting trial on similar charges, and he added more confusion to the already complicated case. His version was that actually the loans had been made by him

rather than by DiGilio; that therefore the defendant would have had no reason to threaten Pereria.

DiGilio’s appearance on the stand as his own witness marked the approaching end of the trial. He denied making the threatening call or ever having loaned money to his accuser. Asked why, then, he had agreed to a _$6,500 payment to Pereria, he answered, “I was buying peace of mind.” It was his way of explaining that he feared his wife would suffer a breakdown if he were compelled to face a _jury trial. “She was crying all the time,” he told the jury. “She was driving me crazy.” And, recalling his arrest, he added: “I’m sitting in the jail won­dering what I done. After a while a detective told me of the charges and I told him ‘Impossible—you picked the wrong guy.

Harding in cross-examination drew a few laughs as he pressed the witness for some explanation as to why Pereria had singled him out for an allegedly false accusation. DiGilio thought for a moment before replying: “This guy took a million-to-one shot and picked me.”

“Picked you out of a hat?” the prosecutor inquired, smiling. “I don’t know,” he answered, “but I’m here.”

Mrs. Ellen DiGilio, following her husband to the stand, did her best to corroborate his explanation of why he agreed to a cash settlement to stay prosecution. She referred to her highly nervous condition over his troubles, adding that they both were afraid that their child might be born dead, as her doctor had feared. She also disclosed that her husband’s income from two jobs had totaled $27,728 the previous year, a point that neither side chose to pursue.

Near the close of its case the defense scored again through the testimony of other witnesses who said that they had been gambling with DiGilio and his wife on Grand Bahama Island on the day of the threatening call to Pereria.

Harding’s rebuttal for the state was brief, but some courtroom attendants believed it indicated his fear of the Voiceprint testimony in the defense’s behalf. Again referring to his visit to Kersta’s laboratory, he related that he had been given a few spectograms to illustrate the method; then in derisive tones he told the court that “one looks like a mountain and the other like a tree.” It was obvious that he was trying to discredit the testimony of Kersta and his colleagues.

Closing arguments provided an interesting study in forensic styles. Querques, at times highly emotional, painted a touching word picture of DiGilio and his wife, suffering mental anguish as they awaited the birth of their child. He emphasized the findings of the Voiceprint experts who had testified for the defense, stressing his claim that a man proved innocent by science had been brought to trial. Sometimes there were tears in his eyes; occasionally he shouted to impress the jury. Now and then he lowered his voice to a whisper.

Harding, on the other hand, spoke calmly and with no emotion. In his direct fashion he reviewed the state’s case, attempting to .-place DiGilio in the center of a web of incriminating evidence and he branded Querques’ plea for sympathy as “one grand hoax.”

Judge Melineux gave his instructions and the jurors retired. It was March 12, _1970, a few days less than two years after Brennan’s sensational speech. Taking of testimony had con­sumed ten and a half days.

Speculation was rife over the outcome, though many left the courtroom expecting long deliberations. Some believed that the Voiceprint evidence had clinched the case for the defense; others questioned whether “the new-fangled machine,” as they called it, would influence the jury. And there were those who believed that it would be impossible to reach a verdict in view of the complicated and conflicting evidence involved. At best the result appeared to be anybody’s guess, yet no one had imagined the speed with which DiGilio’s fate would be deter­mined.

The clock showed the passage of only seventy minutes since the jurors had retired when there came a knock on the jury-room door. Judge Melineux was hastily summoned, court was convened, and the bailiff rapped for order.

DiGilio, in a chair beside his lawyer, sat rigidly as the usual formalities received necessary attention. Not far away his accuser, Pereria, flanked the prosecutor at the state’s table.

The jurors were escorted back to the box, their faces immobile, with no indication of their decision. The foreman rose and at the court’s request read the writing on the slip of paper in his hand.

As he spoke the words “not guilty,” applause broke out among those remaining in the courtroom. DiGilio’s face beamed as he moved toward his wife, whose tears stained her makeup. They walked outside arm in arm and to newsmen DiGilio declared: “I feel twenty years younger. I was never this nervous before a fight.” Then he asked his wife to phone his mother. “I’m even too nervous to do that,” said the former boxer.

Later in the day Kersta and his associates received the news. They were gratified that the jury had accepted their interpretation of Voiceprint evidence.

However, the old scandal that Brennan had exposed long before had not yet reached a final conclusion. During the progress of the trial a special legislative committee had con­ducted an intensive inquiry to determine whether the three prominent lawyers involved in DiGilio’s repayment of borrowed money and interest to Pereria were guilty of unethical conduct. At its conclusion the New Jersey Supreme Court directed that the trio be summoned to a hearing in their own defense.

When this was over the high court ordered the three men suspended from practice—Friedland and Robbins for six months each; Querques for three months.

There now remained only the case of Gerald Grimaldi, once DiGilio’s co-defendant, his trial having been separated from the other because of illness. Though it had been intended to begin his trial with as little delay as possible, more technicalities were raised; then Grimaldi became sick again.

The matter dragged on for more than a year until July, ¹97², when Grimaldi suddenly waived trial and pleaded guilty to taking part in a conspiracy to threaten Pereria. He was sentenced to serve from one to two years in New Jersey state prison and fined $1,000 by Superior Court Judge Charles M. Morris, Jr. It was an ironic turn in the long-lingering case that would have been dropped and forgotten but for Attorney Brennan’s speech to a fraternity more than three years before.

The identity of the man who actually threatened Pereria over the telephone still remains a mystery that Voiceprints cannot solve.

By Peter Maas

. . .

Less inspiring was the swearing-in of the latest Congress.  Among those seated without a murmur of dissent was Representative Cornelius Gallagher from Bayonne, New Jersey, just across the river, who was the subject of several articles in Life magazine last summer and fall.  Life’s time of investigative reporters may be the best ever in the history of American Journalism, and it didn’t kid around with Gallagher.  He was directly accused of being the “tool and collaborator of a Cosa Nostra gang lord“ in Bayonne named Joe Zicarelli and was specifically tied into the promotion of an illicit cancer drug, in the disposal of the body of a local loan shark, in underworld activities in the Dominican Republic and in the great salad oil swindle which made headlines a few years back.

Gallagher, running for re-election, made all kinds of noises about suing Life, but then disappeared when his opponent, a nice Republican lady who reminded you of Spring Bylington, was obviously making little headway against him.  In this Gallagher was helped no end by the editorial page of the New York Times.  You have to wonder if the editorial page reads the rest of the paper.  It nearly went out of its skull over the fitness of Spiro Agnew because of conflict-of-interest charges, even though a Times reporter could not come up with anything substantial.  At the same time another Times correspondent flatly reported that in 1964, was Gallagher was being mentioned as a possible running mate for Lyndon Johnson, the FBI warned the White House that he had close connections with the underworld.  What did the editorial Page do?  It warmly endorsed Gallagher for another term in Congress.

Life says it would love to have libel action from Gallagher, but he has shown little inclination for this.  He would, of course, have to testify under oath; perhaps that is something he doesn’t want to do.

# # #

From New York Magazine, March 10, 1969

Gallagher Defended

Even “less inspiring” than Life magazine’s unjustifiable and unsubstantiated assault on Congressman Cornelius E. Gallagher is Peter Maas’s rehash of same in “Balky Justice” [Feb 17].

Maas implies rather strongly that the reason Congressman Gallagher has not yet commenced a libel suit against Life is because  the Congressman does not wish to testify under oath.  The fact is, however, that in July, 1968, (before publication of the Life article), Gallagher wrote to the Prosecutor of Hudson County, New Jersey demanding a Grand Jury investigation into certain Life allegations, and offering not only to testify under oath, but to waive any Congressional immunity he might have in so doing.  This action by Gallagher was widely reported.

The real factor that precludes public officials from having any decent chance to recover on a libel suit is found in the law of the land as announced by the U.S. Supreme Court in the New York Times Co. vs. Sullivan (1964).  Many law journal articles have discussed this point, and Mr. Maas would do well to consult them before making gratuitous judgments.  These commentaries on the libel law vis-à-vis public officials indicate that the most accurate statement in Maas’ piece is that “Life says it would love to have a libel action from Gallagher.”  Similarly, I trust the New York Jets would love to play a Super-Bowl game against Columbia University.

There are many misstatements in Maas’ article, but lack of space prohibits their documentation herein (one years, however, for the chance to answer Maas in toto).  Let me suggest in closing that Mr. Maas’ dissatisfaction with events such as the Times’ editorial endorsement of Gallagher in November springs more from his deep immersion in the current spurt of Mafiaism than from his deep concern for the facts.  One wonders if it is merely coincidental that the senior member of the Life investigative team that Maas termed as perhaps “the best ever in the history of American journalism” (Mr. R. Sackett) tosses similar accolades at Mr. Maas in a recent review of The Valachi Papers published by Life in recent weeks.

It is not a prudent venture to follow Alice through the looking glass unless one realizes the fantasy to be found inside.  To proceed without this realization is “balky” journalistic justice at best.

Mark A. Belnick
Special Ass’t to Cong.
Cornelius E. Gallagher

The Author Replies

It is true that Gallagher asked for a Hudson County Grand Jury investigation into certain “Life” allegations.  It is also true, as luck would have it, that the statute of limitations has run out on these allegations, which left the Grand Jury powerless to do anything about them.  This is the only probe into “Life’s” charges that Gallagher has demanded.  Thus Gallagher has yet to appear under oath anywhere regarding these allegations.

When the “Life” articles were first published, Gallagher repeatedly emphasized their malicious nature.  Malice is recoverable in the Supreme Court decision cited above.  As Gallagher’s hometown paper, the Bayonne “Times,” noted last August, the “best method for proving the falseness of the article would be a libel suit,” adding that it was past time for Gallagher to start “disproving” the magazines charges.

As for my “deep immersion in the current spurt of Mafiaism,” I don’t quite know what is meant by “current.”  I have been writing about Mafia or Cosa Nostra activities since 1963.

It is true that “Life” gave my book, “The Valachi Papers,” an excellent review.  So did among other publications, “The New York Times Book Review,” “Newsweek” and the “Wall Street Journal.”  What does Gallagher’s office make of this” – P.M.

From the NJ SCI 1971 report

POINT BREEZE AREA OF JERSEY CITY

Rotolo was a close associate of the late John DiGilio, after whose death Rotolo aligned himself with Genovese consigliere Louis “Bobby” Manna of Jersey City, who is presently incarcerated on federal racketeering charges. 

During the Commission’s investigation, Rotolo and his wife Jane were observed by its agents on numerous occasions in 1988 and 1989 acting in a supervisory capacity at Sir John’s Pub. Rotolo’s wife was the tavern’s manager of record that time. 

Despite observations by its agents, witnesses who appeared before the Commission repeatedly denied that Rotolo ran the business. A number of them admitted during interviews that Rotolo was in fact running the bar but gave different stories during testimony in private hearings before the Commission. 

Waitress Donna Isabella admitted in an interview with Special Agent Grant Cuzzupe that she had been paid under the table by “Jane or Tony,” and that Tony was the boss. But when subpoenaed to testify, Isabella denied that Rotolo was her boss or that he paid her. 

Joseph Fucci, a local building contractor, similarly contradicted himself. In an interview with Agent Cuzzupe, Fucci stated that Rotolo arranged for Fucci and his son to perform renovations at Sir John’s Pub. Fucci said Rotolo gave him a $1,500 deposit and orally agreed that Rotolo would be responsible for another $13,500 within a year. Fucci told Agent Cuzzupe that no payment schedule was set up because he and Rotolo are friends. Fucci said that Rotolo still owes $8,000 and pays “a few hundred dollars” whenever he sees Fucci. Again, however, Fucci’s story changed significantly and became confused when asked specific questions in his private testimony before then-Commissioner W. Hunt Dumont: 

A. I did a mistake. It wasn’t true because I didn’t know was — you know — what really I received the money that time. 

. . .  
Read the complete article. 

Urban Times News
September 10, 2004 – September 16, 2004

by UTN Staff

While campaign propaganda is expected during a heated mayoral race, a flyer highlighting the detrimental association of Assemblyman Lou Manzo and the increasingly notorious Daniel McMann bears further scrutiny. Grounded in arguable facts, the leaflet voices some concerns that are becoming more relevant as the election draws near.

Stories of poor work habits have followed Daniel McMann since his first introduction to city government courtesy of Lou Manzo in 2001. Early in their relationship, Ron Buonocore and Lou Manzo were friends. They ran on the same ticket against then U.S. Marshall Glenn Cunningham in the primary race for Jersey City mayor. When voters resoundingly supported Glenn D. Cunningham for office, Buonocore, Manzo jumped on the Cunningham bandwagon. Political pundits predicted that the team could not win, but Cunningham carried the ticket, sweeping all those riding upon his coattails into office. Manzo set McMann up for a job at the Jersey City Department of Public Works that Ron Buonocore ran as Director. There Mr. McMann established himself as a complacent worker who would not regularly come to work. Not one to stand for such behavior, Buonocore fired his Manzo plant for poor attendance. Mr. Manzo was infuriated, and the two destroyed their once amicable relationship. Manzo spared little time in intervening and secured his friend another position, starting a trend that still endures to this day.

Taking McMann from the fires of Public Works, Manzo unknowingly placed his friend in the frying pan at the Department of Health and Human Services. Director Sergio Lamboy would quickly find himself assuaging the complaints of productive workers upset by the lack of productivity from their newest employee. Discussing the difficulties with Assemblyman Lou Manzo, Lamboy explained McMann’s lack of job performance, and basically described a repeat episode of what had happened while Daniel was at Public Works. This did not sit well with Manzo who became so angered he threatened physical violence against the Director. While that incident was squashed, the relationship between the Assemblyman and the Director of the Department of Health and Human Services was soured. However, Assemblyman Manzo’s persistence continued to maintain Daniel McMann with a city position.

As reported in the Jersey Journal in February, the city was notified it was being fined $5000 for failing to file reports on city-owned buildings. Angry state officials kept record of five letters, eleven phone calls, and several meeting; between November 2002 anc March 2003, notifying the depart ment of the need for a response An additional fine of $2000 a day would also be levied for each day that the reports were not submit. ted. The total bill for these indiscretions towers at $105,000, not including the additional workers retained to clean up the mess caused by McMann’s inaction.

Unlike most fiscal foul-ups, this one is directly attributable to one person with a history of ambivalence as a Jersey City worker. Once more, the job performance of Daniel McMann leads to questions regarding his competence. Keeping the necessary reports filed and updated was the responsibility of Daniel McMann. He did not do his job and the city must pay the consequences. Again, Assemblyman Lou Manzo holds the executioner at bay while Mr. McMann is rightfully threatened with the chopping block.

As he claims in his interview with the Journal, Manzo is involved because he recommended him (McMann) in 2001. The Assemblyman minimizes the incident and his associates’ culpability saying, “I’ve talked to people over at the State Department of Health and they told me the fines will probably be dropped.” Even if Mr. Manzo should successfully sweep his compadre’s latest mess under the rug, his McMann obsession highlights an uncomfortable vulnerability for a mayoral aspirant. If history has shown us anything we know that Daniel McMann will have job troubles, soon. History has also revealed that Mr. Manzo is likely to protect the interests of his good friend once again. Recent history has also shown us that detriment comes to one’s political aspirations when the focus of an elected representative wavers between official responsibilities and personal loyalties. Our lame duck governor compromised his credibility attending to his personal loyalties first. Will Jersey City be satisfied playing second fiddle when the hopeful mayor must face the music on behalf of his close friend, again?

This latest incident shows that Assemblyman Manzo has a soft spot when it comes to Mr. McMann. For Daniel McMann, he will minimize the squandering of Jersey City funds and compromise his relationships with government officials. For Daniel McMann he will find a new city position time and again, while others pound the pavement fruitlessly. For Daniel McMann, Lou Manzo will find excuses for his apathy while Jersey City workers struggle to make ends meet. This is not the leadership reaction that Jersey City can afford. Jersey City needs a leader who will put the city first.

We all understand the Manzo platform will claim Jersey City First (in fact the name of a Cunningham supportive political action committee), but we have not seen enough of that platform in practice. In the minds of Jersey City voters, a public official must at all times appear impartial, fair, and truthful in his actions, paying more attention to the welfare of his constituents than his compatriots, reflecting that attitude in all his official responses.
Since the demise of Glenn D. Cunningham, Jersey City has not felt confident that its leaders practice what they preach. Mr. Manzo supports a close but ambivalent friend and voters can see the handwriting on the wall. Daniel McMann does not act in his own best interest. He does not care how he hurts Jersey City, and shows little concern for the stain on the Assemblyman’s reputation. This behavior is not going to instill voter confidence in Lou Manzo, the friend who blindly supports him. New Jersey has seen this specter before. If impartiality and fairness are not qualities Mr. Manzo can project, he should let the Jersey City voter know, now. If being truthful confuses the issues, Mr. Manzo should make it clear, now.

Jersey City deserves to know that it will be first in the heart and mind of its next mayor. If Mr. Manzo is unsure of his political response, he can find some example in the actions of the soon to be former governor.