Sunday, October 27, 2019

The Scuba Diver

It does seem to happen that decades can pass without hearing someone's name, and then you hear of their name twice within a week.

Such is the case of first again hearing Maurice Nadjari's name when reading Corey Kilgannon's resurrection of the story of the 1964 Star of India heist from the NYC Museum of Natural History. Maurice Nadjari was not only the prosecutor who convicted Jack Roland Murphy (Murph the Surf) and his two accomplices, he also personally looked for the stolen gems that were supposedly stored underwater, attached to the hull of a boat in Florida. The jewels were not there, but were later recovered, and Mr. Nadjari never let them out of his sight, as they were spirited back to New York in an air sickness bag. (Do they still have those?)

In Mr. Kilgannon's story, Mr. Nadjari is interviewed through his son Douglas because the father is in failing health. The failing health finally won out, and Mr. Nadjari passed away this past Friday at his home in Huntington, N.Y.

Along with not hearing of Mr. Nadjari's name for decades, I hadn't given any thought to Murph the Surf, the charismatic jewel thief who pulled off the museum heist and who is himself still alive at 82, living in Crystal River, Florida, looking very much like he's able to catch a wave and surf in on his board and plant a kiss, or several, on a bikini beach babe.

Mr. Kilgannon's story is a treasure of memories to those of us who are certainly described as being 'of a certain age.' His story of October 20 is touched off by the Museum of Natural History's 150th anniversary celebration. The best part is that the 1964 heist is itself not on a milestone anniversary, having happened 55 years ago. The heist though, is a rich part of the museum's history.

In Corey's piece, Maurice Nadjari is a big part of the story. He was an assistant prosecutor in New York at the time, working for the legend Frank Hogan, the New York County DA, who dispatched Maurice to recover the jewels, or "don't come back."

With some derring-do worthy of a James Bond film, Mr. Nadjari makes a trip to Florida, where the surfer dudes sprang from to pull off the heist, and acquaints himself with the fences the jewels were quickly passed on to. Murph and his buddies have already been arrested two days after the heist, but the jewels have not been recovered. Thus, the mission to Florida.

Murph proved to be a piece of tabloid heaven when he and his buddies easily made a low bail and publicly proclaimed they were planning to fence the jewels, take the money, and spend the winter on Hawaii's North Shore surfing their wet suits off. The prosecutors were not thrilled about a weak case with no evidence, so Maurice and a gaggle of detectives were dispatched to Florida to bring the evidence back. And they do.

And now, within a week of hearing about Murph and Maurice, Mr. Nadjari has passed away at 95. His NYT obit, no doubt pre-written by the redoubtable Robert McFadden, takes us through Mr. Nadjari's life in six fact-packed columns, complete with photo of Mr. Nadjari holding a press conference with a pile of microphones in front of him. The old days, before cell phones were put in front of your face.

It's no secret I love obituaries. History is stirred up and floats to the surface, especially when it's someone like Mr. Nadjari who was a New York prosecutor who I heard of. When he was appointed by New York's Governor Rockefeller as a special prosecutor investigating police and judicial corruption, I remember the press describing him as being "blunt." He looked it. I wonder if there's a photo of him ever smiling.

Mr. McFadden's obit takes us through the career of Mr. Nadjari as he presented and prosecuted corruption cases. His ultimate conviction average was not very good, as many of his convictions were overturned, or many of his indictments were dismissed. If Mr. Nadjari was a starting pitcher, he would have been plopped in the bull pen.

Obituaries to me are fascinating. They always try to give us the origins of the deceased; the names and occupations of their parents. It's like some of those novels that don't get to the main subject's life until you first read about their family. Sinclair Lewis and John Steinbeck sagas.

The museum heist and the conviction of Murph the Surf takes all of two paragraphs in Mr. Nadjari's obit. When I read Mr. Kilgannon's piece, I wondered about the ethnic origin of Mr. Nadjari's name. You are not a New Yorker of  'a certain age' if you don't wonder about ethnicity.

On reflection, I concluded Mr. Nadjari was Syrian. He has the look of Shakespeare's Othello, without the full dark Moor complexion.  Turns out Mr. Nadjari's parents were Sephardic Jews who immigrated from Greece. His father was a clothes presser. Mr. Nadjari is revealed to have been an avid scuba diver. Thus, the derring-do of donning a diving mask and looking for jewels attached to the side of a boat. In another life, Mr. Nadjari might have been a sponge diver in Tarpon Springs, Florida, which is filled with Greeks.

Being of Greek origins myself, I find it hard to recognize the Nadjari name as being Greek. The closest I get is remembering a very rich lady I once delivered flowers to in the Sherry Netherland Hotel whose name was Hadjiyiannis. She owned a floor in the hotel, her wealth I think coming from shipping, naturally.

In the non-denominational Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Maspeth, Queens, where my parents and other relatives are buried, there are many Greek names on the tombstones. In New York City, there are Jewish cemeteries, Catholic cemeteries, and the non-denominational ones. Growing up in New York, the advantage went to being Jewish or Catholic.

Near the family plot (sleeps 12 by the way–4 across by 3 deep–not filled and holding at 9) I always use the huge Hadjiyiannis mausoleum as a landmark when making a visit. I do not know if it is the same Hadjiyiannis I once delivered flowers to, but it is a Hadjiyiannis nonetheless.

In Marilyn Johnson's seminal book on obituaries, 'The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasure of Obituaries," She talks to the then NYT obit page editor, Chuck Strum, who stands guard over he advance written obits stored in the morgue. She describes the process of these obits and how it touches her "to see them guarded so carefully, as if the obits were hearts that Strum will transplant to the obits page after their hosts are declared dead."

It is easy to understand that we would probably soon see Mr. Nadjari's pre-written obit be updated and float to the surface, much like he did when he was scuba diving. After all, Mr. Nadjari was described as being in poor health at 95, needing his son Douglas to convey the heist story to Mr. Kilgannon.

But what of Jack Roland Murphy, Murph the Surf, shown to be in good health at 82 and running his program of Christian ministry for inmates?

I have no idea if there is a King Tut curse on being of an advanced age, mentioned in a newspaper, and subsequently dying shortly thereafter. Murph should certainly hope not.

If I were Jack (and sometimes I wish I were) I'd make sure to catch all the waves I could, kiss all the bikini beach babes on the shore you can, and keep living life to the fullest.

When thy put your name in paper, you never know what's next.

hrttp://www.onofframp.blogspot.com



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