Frank Abagnale - Catch Me If You Can

“I was working as a movie projectionist at the time,” Abagnale recalls today. “I was making good money, but there I was, five nights a week, sitting in this small room, with nothing to do, really, save to watch the same movie over and over again. I thought to myself that I was smarter than that, that I was ignoring and wasting real talents that I possessed.”

Abagnale sought out his parole officer and broached a plan he had formulated in the lonely projection booth. “I think I have as much knowledge as any man alive concerning the mechanics of forgery, check swindling, counterfeiting and similar crimes,” Abagnale told the officer. “I have often felt since I was released from prison that if I directed this knowledge into the right channels, I think I could help certain people a great deal. For instance, every time I go to the store and write a check, I see two or three mistakes made on the part of the clerk or cashier, mistakes that a bum check artist would take advantage of. I have concluded that it is simply a lack of training, and I know I can teach people who handle checks or cash vouchers how to protect themselves against fraud and theft.”

With the blessings of his parole officer, Abagnale approached a suburban bank director, outlined what he had in mind and detailed his background as a master bilker of banks. “At the moment I have no slide presentations or anything,” said Abagnale. “But I’d like to give a lecture to your employees for one hour after closing. If you think my lecture is worthless, you owe me nothing. If you think it is beneficial, you pay me $50 and make a couple of calls to friends you have in other banks to tell them what you think about my talk and what I’m doing.”

His first appearance as a “white-collar crime specialist” led to another appearance at a different bank, and then to another and yet another. Within months Abagnale was in widespread demand by banks, hotels, airlines and other businesses.

Today, three years later, Frank Abagnale is one of the nation’s most popular crime authorities, with offices in both Houston and Denver, a highly-trained staff, and gross revenues approaching $3 million. He still leads a life on the fly, constantly criss-crossing the nation to present seminars, give lectures or to appear on various television panels. Frank Abagnale leads a very satisfying life.

More importantly, he now realizes why he first embarked on a criminal voyage and why he is not now adrift on that dismal cruise.

“If I did not do what I do today-if I had stayed a pizza cook, a grocery executive or a movie projectionist-I might very well be back in prison today,” Abagnale muses. “Why? Because there’s no glamour, no excitement, no adventure and nothing to fulfill my ego in those vocations.

“What I do today, on the other hand, fulfills all my needs. I get up in front of thousands of people, and I know they’re listening to what I say. That’s an ego trip. I appear on dozens of television programs annually. To me, that’s a glamorous life. It’s an adventuresome life, because I’m constantly being challenged by white collar criminals who come up with new gimmicks to defraud clients-and I know they’re out to put me down as much as they are to make a bundle.

“Actually, I haven’t changed. All the needs that made me a criminal are still there. I have simply found a legal and socially acceptable way to fulfill those needs. I’m still a con artist. I’m just putting down a positive con these days, as opposed to the negative con I used in the past. I have simply redirected the talents I’ve always possessed. Today, if I walked into a crowded room and wanted to impress the people therein, I could impress them more by saying, ‘I’m Frank Abagnale, the impostor,’ than if I were to be the old Frank Abagnale, posing as a pilot, a doctor or whatever.”

Frank Abagnale, in reality, is still a bumblebee personality, flying where he isn’t supposed to fly at all, and making a pot of honey on the side.

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.”