Ready for its close-up; the Square in Movies, TV & radio

Former Boston Herald reporter Stephanie Schorow wrote this terrific book, titled "The Crime of the Century" (you can order now from Amazon.com) which is all about the Brink's robbery.  In it, she describes one of the most ironic of crimes - the robbery of some of the film shot for "The Brink's Job," a movie about a robbery!  Confused?  Stephanie has kindly agreed to let me post the following excerpt from the book, which tells the wild story: 

 For the young film-editing apprentice Scott Smith... the work on The Brink's Job would convince him that this was what he wanted to do in his life. Then, on the morning of July 28, when he opened a door to find a gun in his face, Scott found what crime was really all about.  The three gunmen, none wearing masks, seemed well prepared. They had brought in a collapsible suitcase and a briefcase filled with handcuffs. "This is what we're gonna do," said one of the men, with a big gut, a gold bracelet, and a big ring (almost, Scott thought later, too stereotypically Mafioso). "We want the scenes of Scollay Square, the open marketplace. We want to make sure that you're not giving us the wrong material so you're gonna have to show it to us. No funny stuff."

The situation was surreal, but even more bizarre was an editor grabbing film, loading it into a flatbed editing machine, and running it for the gunmen. For fifteen to twenty minutes, the editors rolled the film with guns pointed at their backs. Another editor walked in while the robbery was going on; he was spun around and slammed against a wall, and a gun was shoved in his face. Meanwhile, another robber ripped phones from walls and smashed them on the floor.

When the editor finished showing the Scollay Square scenes-which were the scenes with the most extras and thus the most expensive to shoot-the gunmen seemed satisfied. "Okay, is this all the material?" one gunman asked. Reassured that they had all, the gunmen  loaded the thirteen reels into the collapsible, rolling suitcase. They then proceeded to handcuff the men together or to chairs. They pulled out gaffer's tape and taped everyone's mouth shut; all the editors except for Scott had beards, however, and the tape wasn't sticking. So they stuffed white gloves into their mouths. The robbers left with a parting comment, "We know who you guys are and where you live."

The gunmen had missed a phone and the handcuffed editors were trying to figure out how to dial 911 by manipulating their manacled hands when Scott's father walked in and burst out laughing. "What the heck are you guys doing?"

"Look, man, we've been robbed," one of the editors said, and suddenly Bud Smith wasn't laughing. In a few minutes the police arrived and started asking questions. The police couldn't remove the cuffs-they said they didn't know how. Coincidentally, Spanish Eddie showed up and, with a paper clip, managed to get one cuff off each person. He then disappeared.  Boston's press had a pun-filled field  day with stories on the Brink's "scene- stealers," who operated with as much precision as the original bandits. Filmmakers had to refute charges that it was a publicity stunt. Said one unnamed production assistant to the New York Times, "Sure and we thought it would be a real gag to beat up a few editors and throw this place into complete turmoil just as we're all ready to go home. You've got to be kidding."

Scott remembers how angry his father was about the charge: "If this is a publicity stunt, I am going to raise a lot of hell."  The robbers showed both daring and a distinct lack of filmmaking knowledge. The gunmen did get Scollay Square footage, but what they took were outtakes and dailies, positive prints of negatives that were being held by Technicolor in New York City. The material could be replaced with no significant delay.  The robbers, however, made a ransom call, which triggered an investigation by the FBI. Walon Green recalls that Friedkin told the robbers to get a projector and enjoy the film; it was all theirs.