Mr. X

Almost anyone can produce a convincing forgery with an old thieves' trick--copying a signature upside down.* But forgers who can amass riches are rare. As every detective-story reader knows, most such slippery geniuses blossom in foreign capitals. But last week, with pardonable pride, the Federal Bureau of Investigation added to the list of master forgers the name of Chicago-born Alexander D. L. Thiel (rhymes with steal).

Forger Thiel, a grey-haired, dignified man who bears a striking resemblance to the late John Barrymore, was just another confidence man until he reached middle age. But in the early '30s he turned up in Manhattan's financial district wearing pince-nez and carrying a stick.

Night after night he used a secret trick to enter the locked doors of Wall Street offices. When he found a company with a big bank account, he would steal a few blank checks, often marking the stubs "destroyed because of bad printing." The second part of his work called for more skill. He would study the life and habits of a Manhattan businessman, learn to impersonate him, then open a bank account in his name.

After that he would deposit checks up to $8,000, forged on the first firm. By the time the bank sent out its statements and the forgeries were discovered, Alexander Thiel would have made his killing and vanished. In twelve years he took more than $200,000 from the biggest Manhattan banks. Exasperated G-men, unable to discover his identity, listed him on their files as "Mr. X."

He walked into banks with imposing authority. He could forge signatures from memory with either his left or right hand, often did so under the noses of cashiers. Every New York bank knew his description and methods, but no banker ever suspected him in time. In Chicago he lived between jobs at an inconspicuous hotel as Major Arthur Maclay, a wealthy, erudite gentleman who played the horses.

The Scholar in Crime. As Major Maclay, Forger Thiel was a connoisseur of fine wines and food. He read scholarly works on engineering, medicine and art. He bought $150 suits, $25 shirts, $10 neckties. He often wintered in Miami.

Like Sherlock Holmes, he used narcotics, to brighten up the dull months of idleness. But he took the cure regularly, never allowed morphine to disturb his meticulous planning. Nevertheless, drugs were his undoing. To get his supplies, in a tight wartime dope market, he forged the signature of a Chicago physician. That was careless. He was arrested (as Major Maclay), sent to a Federal Narcotics Hospital at Lexington, Ky. For months nobody suspected that he was Mr. X, the fabulous forger. After painful checking, the FBI identified him.

Last week, in the Federal House of Detention on Manhattan's West Street, Alexander Thiel did not seem too unhappy. After twelve years of silence, he was able, at last, to talk about his fabulous coups. Occasionally, adjusting his black-ribboned glasses, he offered fascinated FBI agents his expert and detailed advice on the cooking and serving of sturgeon.

* When viewed upside down, a signature becomes an odd design which may be copied easily without the handicap of personal handwriting traits.

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