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Authors: Robert Whiting
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been confined to Long Beach Veterans Mental Hospital, during which time he had received shock insulin treatment to cure his sudden fits of violent rage. Gorgeous Mac naturally kept that part of his curriculum vitae confidential – as he did other aspects of his personal life, like his exotic sexual preferences. He liked young Japanese men as well as women and he used the Hotel New York, which Zappetti still ran, for secret afternoon trysts.
Aware of Zappetti’s criminal background, MacFarland asked for advice in making some quick cash. He needed a lot of money fast, he said one afternoon in a hushed voice, and he did not care how he got it. Zappetti replied that he would be willing to help out – even participate if MacFarland was in the market for a partner – because he was in a bit of a cash crisis himself.
‘Where you staying?’ asked Nick.
‘Imperial,’ came the reply.
‘What’s the most valuable thing they got there?’
‘Diamonds,’ he said, after some thought, ‘in the arcade.’
‘Good. Then let’s steal them.’
And thus was hatched a plan for a robbery so bizarre that Tokyoites still talk about it.
THE IMPERIAL HOTEL DIAMOND ROBBERY
The Imperial Hotel was the crown jewel of Tokyo. Designed by the famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright, it had opened in 1923, the year of the great Kanto earthquake, a calamity it had survived intact when every building around it collapsed into rubble. Hailed as a miracle of architecture, it was a wide, low-slung, red brick and oya stone edifice that ‘floated’ on pilings and boasted a lotus pond in front of the main entrance. From the outside, it looked more like an Aztec temple than a Japanese hotel (in fact, Wright had originally intended the design for a Latin American site). During the GHQ years, high-ranking military officers had stayed there, and by the mid-1950s it was generally acknowledged as the Greatest Hotel in Asia. Anybody who was anyone stayed there, from US senators to Hollywood movie stars. Its musty, mausoleum-like lobby was the most popular meeting place in town.
The Diamond Shop in the hotel arcade sometimes made private showings of gems in the guest rooms – something the budding jewel thieves were banking on. Zappetti had devised a scheme whereby MacFarland would call a representative from the diamond arcade to his room for a private exhibition. He would flash open a suitcase full of cash – real money on top, newspaper clippings underneath – to ‘prove’ he was able to pay. Then MacFarland would serve drinks to celebrate the purchase – a glass of orange juice apiece, both of which would be laced with knockout drops. Within minutes after downing the concoction, both MacFarland and the salesman would be unconscious on the floor, whereuponZappetti, hiding in an adjoining room, would emerge to make off with the diamonds
and
the suitcase. MacFarland would be sure to wake up last and – for added effect – accuse the salesman of engineering the theft.
Zappetti thought it was a brilliant plan.
But then MacFarland decided he wanted a gun.
‘What the hell do you need a gun for?’ Zappetti asked, stupefied. ‘You’re as big as Godzilla. If there’s trouble, you just bash the guy’s head in. We’re going to knock him out with pills anyway. You don’t need no gun. That’s crazy.’
MacFarland was adamant. ‘I gotta have a gun,’ he kept saying.
The combination of MacFarland and a pistol was frightening to contemplate, because while Zappetti thought MacFarland intelligent and rational enough most of the time, he had already caught a disturbing glimpse of MacFarland’s psychologically challenged side. Zappetti had been driving the big wrestler across the Sumida River from the Hotel New York into the city center one afternoon when the Wild Bull from Nebraska suddenly snapped. He began slamming the door repeatedly with his elbow, punching the dashboard with his fists as hard as he could – bam! bam! bam! – yelling and
Aware of Zappetti’s criminal background, MacFarland asked for advice in making some quick cash. He needed a lot of money fast, he said one afternoon in a hushed voice, and he did not care how he got it. Zappetti replied that he would be willing to help out – even participate if MacFarland was in the market for a partner – because he was in a bit of a cash crisis himself.
‘Where you staying?’ asked Nick.
‘Imperial,’ came the reply.
‘What’s the most valuable thing they got there?’
‘Diamonds,’ he said, after some thought, ‘in the arcade.’
‘Good. Then let’s steal them.’
And thus was hatched a plan for a robbery so bizarre that Tokyoites still talk about it.
THE IMPERIAL HOTEL DIAMOND ROBBERY
The Imperial Hotel was the crown jewel of Tokyo. Designed by the famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright, it had opened in 1923, the year of the great Kanto earthquake, a calamity it had survived intact when every building around it collapsed into rubble. Hailed as a miracle of architecture, it was a wide, low-slung, red brick and oya stone edifice that ‘floated’ on pilings and boasted a lotus pond in front of the main entrance. From the outside, it looked more like an Aztec temple than a Japanese hotel (in fact, Wright had originally intended the design for a Latin American site). During the GHQ years, high-ranking military officers had stayed there, and by the mid-1950s it was generally acknowledged as the Greatest Hotel in Asia. Anybody who was anyone stayed there, from US senators to Hollywood movie stars. Its musty, mausoleum-like lobby was the most popular meeting place in town.
The Diamond Shop in the hotel arcade sometimes made private showings of gems in the guest rooms – something the budding jewel thieves were banking on. Zappetti had devised a scheme whereby MacFarland would call a representative from the diamond arcade to his room for a private exhibition. He would flash open a suitcase full of cash – real money on top, newspaper clippings underneath – to ‘prove’ he was able to pay. Then MacFarland would serve drinks to celebrate the purchase – a glass of orange juice apiece, both of which would be laced with knockout drops. Within minutes after downing the concoction, both MacFarland and the salesman would be unconscious on the floor, whereuponZappetti, hiding in an adjoining room, would emerge to make off with the diamonds
and
the suitcase. MacFarland would be sure to wake up last and – for added effect – accuse the salesman of engineering the theft.
Zappetti thought it was a brilliant plan.
But then MacFarland decided he wanted a gun.
‘What the hell do you need a gun for?’ Zappetti asked, stupefied. ‘You’re as big as Godzilla. If there’s trouble, you just bash the guy’s head in. We’re going to knock him out with pills anyway. You don’t need no gun. That’s crazy.’
MacFarland was adamant. ‘I gotta have a gun,’ he kept saying.
The combination of MacFarland and a pistol was frightening to contemplate, because while Zappetti thought MacFarland intelligent and rational enough most of the time, he had already caught a disturbing glimpse of MacFarland’s psychologically challenged side. Zappetti had been driving the big wrestler across the Sumida River from the Hotel New York into the city center one afternoon when the Wild Bull from Nebraska suddenly snapped. He began slamming the door repeatedly with his elbow, punching the dashboard with his fists as hard as he could – bam! bam! bam! – yelling and
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