May 15, 1981

Sammy approaches me in front of the Pan Am building as I make my way home late from work. He's from South Africa, he says, and arrived in New York only a few hours ago and is trying to find the Don Bella Apartments. He's surprised when I tell him I don't know where they are.

"What's the address?" I ask him.

"I don't want an address, I want apartment," he says. "I will pay you if you take me there. See," he pulls out a roll of bills topped with a fifty, "I have money."

I tell him to put the money back in his pocket and that I would gladly tell him where to go but I need an address, or at least a general direction. He doesn't understand so I suggest calling information. He doesn't want that. He turns and asks another man for directions and I wait, sure that no one else will give him more than a cursory answer. The man stops and gives the same answer as I did. Sammy gets even more upset.

The stranger and I introduce ourselves to each other and lead Sammy to a hotel lobby to call information. Sammy offers to pay for the phone but I assure him it isn't very much and my present to him.

Information comes up a blank. We take Sammy, who is shaking and telling his story of landing in JFK, meeting a man who offers to help him find a place to stay. He gave this man $100 as a deposit for a room with a hot plate at the Don Bella and was taken to Grand Central.

"And the man left you," I say flatly..

"Yes, and then I put my suitcase in a locker and gave the key to an attendant."

The best part of a con is hearing the victim describe the events until they realize they've been taken. I know Sammy doesn't understand that he's been robbed. He expects the attendant to be waiting by the locker with his key and to have a nice room waiting for him, with a hot plate to cook the food he had hidden in his suitcase, at the Don Bella.

The other man, who resembles Sammy somewhat around the face but not in his naiveté, suggests we find a place to sit down, have coffee and sort things out. I agree.

We find an Arby's that is about to close and order coffee. Sammy tries, once more, to explain what happened though it's clear he still doesn't understand that anything "happened".

The other man, who tells us his name is Ted, offers to call a friend who works for the YMCA to see if they can help.

"What is this Y?" Sammy asks. "Is it near where I want to go?"

"It's a safe place for you to stay tonight," I explain while Ted slides out of the booth to make the call. "I think you've been taken for a ride, Sammy."

"Yes," he says, encouragingly, as if teaching a particularly dumb child. "I took a taxi from the airport to here..."