Scow E

Out to sea nightly are tugged municipal scows bearing tons & tons of New York City's garbage. Twenty miles south of Scotland Light they dump their burdens into the dark sea, return. Barge E of the city's Sanitation Commission garbage fleet last week completed her usual run, lay, supposedly empty, at her berth almost under Brooklyn Bridge. At 3 a. m. about 100 men appeared there with three big trucks, swarmed over her.

Casually passing in the East River was Customs patrol-boat 546, John Beach commanding. To him it seemed a strange time for garbagemen to be at work. Quietly he ordered his five men to dock their craft, disembark, surround the scene of activity. When one of the big trucks started to leave, out from hiding jumped Officer Beach, fired a shot in the air, precipitated a scuffle which netted the U. S. 22 prisoners, a score of knives & pistols, $60,000 of bourbon whiskey and champagne.

That the E obtained its liquor cargo at sea was obvious. As all the world knows, the ragged squadron comprising Rum Row lurks twelve miles off New York Harbor. But no one on the tug M. Moran, which towed the E, or on barge P, which was part of the tow, had seen anything untoward happen. A Federal inspector stationed on the M. Moran to see that the swill was dumped out far enough had nothing to report, but was exonerated by the harbor authorities because after the dumping he slept "as is the custom of Federal inspectors on such duty."

One of the prisoners was the "captain" of the E, Scowman Leonardo San Martino. He told Sanitation Commissioner Charles Hand that his barge was boarded by about 40 buccaneers from The Row, who deposited their contraband, threatened him and his crew with death if there was betrayal. At the E's dock, he said, another band of gunmen made the crew wait all afternoon & evening, finally help unload the liquor.

Said Commissioner Hand: "A colorful story!"

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