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A bank robbery, penny candy, the FBI, and a dog day afternoon in NYC

March 20, 2016

BrockelPress

New York. As the summer dragged on, every day seemed a bit more oppressive. As the city entered into a great financial crisis that steamy-hot summer of ’72, the FBI took notice of me and tapped my phone.

304 W 75th Street, NYC 304 W 75th Street, NYC

I lived between Riverside Drive and West End Avenue— with a tuxedo cat named Maxwell—in an apartment, 17F, on the top floor of 304 West 75th Street. For a 21-year-old kid from Kansas I was living in pretty rarefied air. I’d just returned from a year on the road with a play. I had a doorman, elevator attendant, and Zabar’s and Fairway Market were just a couple of blocks away. A Chinese laundry on West 76th Street took care of my shirts and socks and such. And, almost every business and restaurant in the area delivered.

In the midst of auditions and commercial acting gigs I managed The Penny…

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