Catch me if you can: the amazing true story of the youngest and most daring con man in the history of fun and profit

203 Pages·1980·0.89 MB·English

by  Frank W. Abagnale

Catch Me if You Can
Frank Abagnale
Frank Abagnale, alias Frank Williams, alias Robert Conrad, Frank Adams,
and Robert Monjo, was one of the most hunted con men, fraudulent check
writers, master forgers in history—and the world’s greatest impostor. Ersatz
airline pilot, assistant state attorney, pediatrician, college professor, FBI agent,
Abagnale was known by the police of twenty-six foreign countries and all fifty
states as “The Skywayman.”
At sixteen, Abagnale dropped out of high school and left home to become an
airline pilot—his life’s dream. By converting an ordinary ID into an airline ID,
donning a uniform purchased by ruse from a New York manufacturer, and
counterfeiting a pilot’s license, Abagnale found his way into Pan Am. With study
and discreet inquiries, Abagnale picked up airline jargon and discovered that
pilots could ride free anywhere in the world on any airline; and that hotels billed
airlines direct and cashed checks issued by airline companies. During the five
years Abagnale was to “fly” for Pan Am, he bilked the company for a small
fortune in cash, traveled several hundred thousand miles at its expense, and
nearly drove the public affairs people berserk.
Hiding out in a southern city, Abagnale learned that the state attorney general
was seeking assistants. With a forged Harvard Law transcript and four months of
study, Abagnale passed the bar on the third try and succeeded in being hired—at
a salary of $12,800. For nine months he practiced law, but when a real Harvard
lawyer appeared on the scene, Abagnale figured it was time to move on.
Abagnale fell into and out of other professions, until, unexpectedly, his
identity was exposed and he was thrown into one of the most notorious prisons
in France. Abagnale spent the next four years in various jails and, after a series
of escapes, resigned himself to the fact that he had been caught for good.
“I was always aware of who I was in reality. My postures were always for
purposes of monetary gain. But it would be wrong to say it was only for money.
Money was just a part of it. I did have fun fooling people. It was exciting and at
times glamorous, and I became so good at what I was doing that it just became
natural for me to assume an identity other than my own. But it wasn’t all acting
and I was always aware that if and when I was caught, I wasn’t going to win any
Oscars. I was going to prison.”
Catch Me If You Can
Frank W. Abagnale, Jr.
with Stan Redding
Broadway
Books

This book is based on the true-life exploits of Frank Abagnale. To protect the
rights of those whose paths have crossed the author’s, all of the characters and
some of the events have been altered, and all names, dates, and places have been
changed.
Copyright © 1980 by Frank W. Abagnale, Jr.
All rights reserved
Published simultaneously in Canada

ISBN 0767905385
2002
Printed in the United States of America
To my dad
CONTENTS
1 The Fledgling
2 The Pilot
3 Fly a Crooked Sky
4 If I’m a Kid Doctor, Where’s My Jar of Lollipops?
5 A Law Degree Is Just an Illegal Technicality
6 Paperhanger in a Rolls-Royce
7 How to Tour Europe on a Felony a Day
8 A Small Crew Will Do—It's Just a Paper Airplane
9 Does This Tab Include the Tip?
10 Put Out an APB—Frank Abagnale Has Escaped!
Epilogue
Back Cover/Photographs
Catch Me If You Can
CHAPTER ONE
The Fledgling
A man’s alter ego is nothing more than his favorite image of himself. The
mirror in my room in the Windsor Hotel in Paris reflected my favorite image of
me—a darkly handsome young airline pilot, smooth-skinned, bull-shouldered
and immaculately groomed. Modesty is not one of my virtues. At the time, virtue
was not one of my virtues.
Satisfied with my appearance, I picked up my bag, left the room and two
minutes later was standing in front of the cashier’s cage.
“Good morning, Captain,” said the cashier in warm tones. The markings on
my uniform identified me as a first officer, a copilot, but the French are like that.
They tend to overestimate everything save their women, wine and art.
I signed the hotel bill she slid across the counter, started to turn away, then
wheeled back, taking a payroll check from the inside pocket of my jacket. “Oh,
can you cash this for me? Your Paris night life nearly wiped me out and it’ll be
another week before I’m home.” I smiled ruefully.
She picked up the Pan American World Airways check and looked at the
amount. “I’m sure we can, Captain, but I must get the manager to approve a
check this large,” she said. She stepped into an office behind her and was back in
a moment, displaying a pleased smile. She handed me the check to endorse.
“I assume you want American dollars?” she asked, and without waiting for
my reply counted out $786.73 in Yankee currency and coin. I pushed back two
$50 bills. “I would appreciate it if you would take care of the necessary people,
since I was so careless,” I said, smiling.
She beamed. “Of course, Captain. You are very kind,” she said. “Have a safe
flight and please come back to see us.”
I took a cab to Orly, instructing the driver to let me off at the TWA entrance. I
by-passed the TWA ticket counter in the lobby and presented my FAA license
and Pan Am ID card to the TWA operations officer. He checked his manifest.
“Okay, First Officer Frank Williams, deadheading to Rome. Gotcha. Fill this out,