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briefing/
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the society pages
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* chen tao (ufo cult)
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What Dutch Schultz Had to Say
Part 1
October 24, 1935
Statements made by Arthur Flegenheimer (alias "Dutch Schultz") in the Newark City Hospital on the above date between 4 P.M. and 6 P.M.; from stenographic notes made by F.J. Long, Clerk-Stenographer, Newark Police Department.
George, don't make no bull moves. What have you done with him. Oh, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma! Oh, stop it! Stop it!...Oh, Oh, Oh, Sure, sure, Mamma, etc.
("Schultz" at this time was irrational, suffering with a fever of about 106 degrees, with a gunshot wound. Sergeant Luke Conlon, Detectives from Newark Police Headquarters and from the Prosecutor's Office were at his bedside. One of the officers had a newspaper)
"Schultz" noticed the newspaper and said: has it been in any other newspapers? (Then, relapsing into irrationality) Now listen Phil, fun is fun. Aha... Please! Papa! What happened to the 16? Oh, oh...he done it? Please...please...John, please. Oh, did you buy the hotel; you promised a million...sure. Get out! I wish I knew. Please make it quick; fast and furious; please... fast and furious. Please help me get out; I'm getting my wind back, thank God! Please, please; Oh, please. You will have to, please...tell him, "You got no case." You get ahead with the dot and dash system. Didn't I speak that time last night. Whose number is that in your pocketbook, Phil? 13780. Who was it? Oh!...Please, please...Reserve decision, police, police; Henny and Frankie...Oh, Oh, dog Biscuit, and when he is happy he doesn't get snappy...Please, please do this! Henny, Henny, Frankie! You didn't meet him; you didn't even meet me; the glove will fit what I say...Oh, kayiyi, kayiyi! Sure, who cares? When are you through! How do you know this? Well, then...Oh, Cocoa; no... thinks he is a grandpa again and he is jumping around. No, Hoboe and Poboe I think I mean the same thing.
Question by Sergeant Conlon: Who shot you?
Answer: The bos himself.
Q: xxx He did?
A: Yes: I don't know
Q: What did he shoot you for?
A: I showed him boss; did you hear him meet me? An appointment; appeal stuck. All right mother.
Q: Was it the boss shot you?
A: Who shot me? No one.
Q: Was it bow-legs?
A: Yes, he might have shot me; it wasn't Robeck(?) or the other guy; I will see him; I never forget and if I do I will be very careful.
Q: Was it bow-legs who shot you?
A: I don't know who shot me, honest to God! Suppose you help me up now, like a swell fellow.
Q: We will help you.
A: Will you get me up? O.K., I won't be such a creep. Oh, mamma, I can't go through with it, please. Oh, and then he clips me; come on, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxcut that out, we don't owe a nickel; fold it! Instead, fold it against him; I am a pretty good pretzeler...Winifred...Dept. of Justice; I even got it from the Department, sir. Please, stop it; say listen, the...last night.
Sergt. Conlon: Now, don't holler.
A: I don't want to holler.
continued elsewhere...
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