Robert Crichton - The Great Impostor: The Amazing Career of Ferdinand Waldo Demara, who Posed as a Surgeon, a Prison Warden, a Doctor of Philosophy, A Trappist Monk and Many, Many Others

On the very cold morning of February 14, 1956, Detective Troopers Millard Nickerson and James Milligan of th Maine state police boarded a Coast Guard cutter in Rock land and headed out into Penobscot Bay. They were bound for North Haven Island, a clump of sand and rock and pine which sits out in the bay with its back against the Atlantic Ocean.

The sky was gray, dark with swells of snow clouds which pressed inland, and the strong wind, coming hard off the bay, coated the cutter with frozen brine. It was not, as Milligan pointed out, a promising day for a manhunt.

Whats the charge on the man? the skipper of the cutter asked.

Cheating, Milligan said. The skipper gave them a look of deep disappointment.

I would have thought it was murder at least to bring you out on a day like this. The men will be upset.

Well, to hell with the men, Nickerson said with quiet finality. This is not your ordinary cheater.

On North Haven they were fortunate in finding the islands only taxi, and they wound their way up a narrow road out of the village, by snowed-over farms and past boarded-up, dead-looking summer places which were joined to patches of pine, green and dark, deep with snow.

Got some good teachers up to school this year, I hear, Nickerson said. There was, even by Maine standards, a long pause before the answer.

Got a good crop, the driver finally said. Got Dana Smith, a good solid man. Then we got this Martin Godgart. Come on the island out of the blue and done a fine job with the boys.

Thats the big, heavy-set fellow who always wears the crew cut?

Thats the one. Know him?

We know about him, Milligan said.

Thats more than we do out here, by God. Says hes from Brooklyn, New York, but to hear him talk hes from all over the world. Of course, I think he spins some stretchers but then that dont bother me none. Hes a good one. Got all the kids on the island in the Sea Scouts, teaches at the Baptist Sunday School, and played Santa Claus to all the poor kids. We got plenty of those, you know.

I suspect you have, Milligan said.

But Ill tell you this, the driver persisted. We never had nothin like him out here before.

I suspect you havent, Nickerson added.

The school, a large, somber, shingled affair, was not an appetizing place in which to learn. The detectives were upset to find that Godgart wasnt there.

Dont tell me hes decided to make a run for it, Milligan said. It would be like him.

Both men eyed the stretches of snowy fields and pine around them and shivered at the prospects of having to track their quarry down. A determined man, although he couldnt escape, could hold out a long time in them before being taken. As they turned to go back to the taxi and plan what to do next, an old, mud-spattered Chevrolet swung around them and then seemed to spin into the school parking area. Before the car had actually come to a full stop, the door had been flung open, and a massive, powerful-looking man climbed from behind the wheel and, with his head bent against the wind, started up the slope toward them. His arms swung from side to side and this, combined with his bulk, gave him the appearance of a graceful bear.

When he saw the detectives, a look of surprised hurt crossed his face and he stopped exactly as suddenly as if he had been shot. For a moment he seemed to teeter where he stood, unsure of whether he was going to fall forward or tip backward, then he finally came on ahead.

I have a feeling I can be of help to you two men, he said softly. What took you so long to get here?

Lets do it this way first, Nickerson said, flourishing a paper, a warrant for Godgarts arrest, in his hand. You are Martin Godgart?

In a manner of speaking, yes, the big man said.

Your real name is Ferdinand Waldo Demara, Jr., is that right?

Sometimes its hard to say what my name is.

Lets do this thing right, Milligan said. This is an arrest.

All right, then. I was born under that name but I use Fred W. Demara now. Nickerson was checking against a small notebook.

Alias Martin Godgart? he asked. The man nodded yes.

Alias Dr. Robert Linton French? There was another nod of yes.

The detective studied the list for what seemed a long time.

My, he said, that Dr. French really got around. You went places with him.

I did. He was one of my best, the teacher agreed.

Alias Brother John Payne?

Alias Dr. Cecil Boyce Hamann?

You people have been doing your homework. Yes, I was him too.

Alias Ben W. Jones, assistant warden of the Huntsville Prison in Texas?

Im not ashamed of that one.

Alias Dr. Joseph C. Cyr, surgeon lieutenant in the Royal Canadian Navy?

One of my very best, the prisoner said. He saw that Nickerson was closing his notebook. Go ahead, go ahead. Youve missed some.

I think weve got enough to establish the case, Nickerson said with obvious irony.

Enough to put you in jail for fifty years, Milligan said, not unnicely.

If they wanted to put me in jail, the man, Demara, said. Now if you dont mind, Im beginning to freeze. I assume you want to take me in alive.

Either ways all right, one of the detectives said, and they started back toward the schoolhouse. Demara didnt go with them but instead started back for his car.

I dont want to go back in there. Im clean in there and I want to keep it that way, please.

They started to follow him, but from a feeling of needlessly intruding they stopped and stayed where they were. They watched him rummaging through a pile of clothes and books in the back seat.

If youre worried I have a gun down here, dont, he called. I do, I mean, but I wouldnt shoot anyone and I wouldnt shoot myself. Know why? Im afraid Id miss myself and I couldnt stand that. Id look ridiculous.

He put on a heavy gray greatcoat with a fur collar and then a black Navy watch cap.

Im going to look ridiculous back on the mainland in this outfit, Demara grumbled. You know, of all the things I hate, I hate looking ridiculous the most.

The ride back to the harbor was stiffly silent. Occasionally the big man leaned forward and studied the landscape as if he were trying to burn it into his memory by sheer force. When they passed the American Legion hall he groaned at the sight of the shuttered windows.

Thats the towns social center. You know what day it is? he asked. Besides the date no one did.

This is Saint Valentines Day. Do you see any sign of it here? Think someone might spend just one dollar on decorations, on little love tokens? To hell they would.

He stared morosely out the window, tapping the window with his nails. These people broke away from the Massachusetts Puritans because they thought they were too frivolous, you know. They dont believe in loving their children because its sort of sinful to show emotion. He smacked the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. Oh, God, I had so much work to do here. Then you had to come out and get me, he ended bitterly.

At the dock, when they had piled out into the patches of wet snow, Demara suddenly let out a shattering whoop and began laughing, laughing so hard that he doubled over and began choking and puffing and the tears streamed down his face, steaming in the cold and turning the moonlike cheeks a glowing red.