Seattle Flag Vol. 1 No. 5, 'D.B. Cooper Found!' — anonymous interview with claimed hijacker

[partial cropped text at top — illegible, likely publication name or headline continuation] FOUND! THE MAN, THE PLANE, THE MONEY, THE INTERVIEW.

THE MAN, THE PLANE, THE MONEY, THE INTERVIEW.

[guess: Aug] 5/5/72

---

"I Earn My Money..."

---

EXHIBIT "A" FEDERAL RESERVE NOTE THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA THIS NOTE IS LEGAL TENDER FOR ALL DEBTS, PUBLIC AND PRIVATE L 51279635 A WASHINGTON, D.C. 12 SERIES [1969 or 1989 — partially legible] [Signature] Dorothy Andrews Elston, Treasurer of the United States [Signature] David M. Kennedy, Secretary of the Treasury ANDREW JACKSON TWENTY DOLLARS 20

---

On the storm-blown Thanksgiving Eve of November 24, 19[71], a man calling himself "D.B. Cooper" parachuted out of the belly of a Northwest Orient Airlines [jet] [heading] somewhere between Seattle and Reno. Strapped to his waist was a packet stuffed with 10,000 twenty-dollar bills, the ransom he had received [...text continues, partially cut off or illegible at bottom edge...]

---

part, it came completely by accident. The Flag has spent considerable effort verifying the interview—we have yet to find a flaw. With the missing 20 dollar bill which the interviewer supplied, we must conclude that what you are about to read is the only authentic interview with D.B. Cooper in existence. [...text continues below visible area...]

---

Oh yes, and I also put the torch to an annual report from Northwest Airlines with an adorable picture of Donald W. Nyrop in it. He's their president. ANON: Didn't your family get suspicious? COOPER: I don't have a family. ANON: What about your friends? COOPER: I don't have friends. [...text continues below visible area...]

---

©1972 Seattle Flag, all rights reserved

On the storm-blown Thanksgiving Eve of November 24, 1971, a man calling himself "D.B. Cooper" parachuted out of the belly of a Northwest Orient Airlines 727 jetliner somewhere between Seattle and Reno. Strapped to his waist was a packet stuffed with 10,000 twenty-dollar bills, the ransom he had received while holding the plane's crew hostage at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

Since then the FBI, assisted by state and county [illegible] and by battalions of GIs from Fort Lewis have spent countless hours and many thousands of taxpayers dollars trying to find Cooper.

But Cooper—the name the hijacker used at Portland when boarding Flight No. 305, Northwest's transcontinental "milk run" which emanated at National Airport in Washington, D.C.—has evaded his would-be captors with the same style and elan he exhibited in pulling the most bizarre caper in the history of aerial piracy.

Goaded by public adoration of the skyjacker, and rankled almost to tears by such Coopermaniacal items as ballads ("D.B. Cooper, Where Are You Now"), D.B. Cooper sweatshirts, and even memorial bikini panties, the Seattle office of the FBI has sworn to scour every inch of terrain between Sea-Tac and Reno to track down their man. At this writing it looks very much as if Mr. Hoover's minions may have to do exactly that.

The media has been just as eager for clues to Cooper's whereabouts, his true identity, his motives. Locally, the P-I offered a $5,000 reward under their Secret Witness crime fighter series. The Seattle Times, while gently chiding editorially those who would adulate Cooper, has pretty much kept its button-down cool about the whole thing.

Now, into this lacuna-filled tangle of pop heroism, electronic legend and FBI fumbling, steps the Seattle Flag with an authentic, first-person, totally exclusive interview with D.B. Cooper himself!

Elsewhere in this issue we have explained something about how that worldwide scoop was obtained, and the lengths to which the Flag is prepared to go to protect the anonymity of "D.B. Cooper". In no way do we either condone or condemn Cooper's crime; our task is to simply report the news, from any viable source.

All we promised, in return for this interview, was that we would under no circumstances— including grand jury [text cut off at bottom of column]

---

©1972 Seattle Flag; all rights reserved

[...continues mid-sentence] part, it came completely by accident. The Flag has spent considerable effort verifying the interview—we have yet to find a flaw. With the missing 20 dollar bill which the interviewer supplied, we must conclude that what you are about to read is the only authentic interview with D.B. Cooper in existence.

Let us begin.

ANONYMOUS INTERVIEWER: The pictures in the paper don't do you justice.

COOPER: My sentiments exactly. It's funny what eyewitnesses don't see. They were fifteen pounds and two inches off. And that artist's picture stunk. If I were a vain man, I'd sue him for libel. But I've got no reason to complain...

ANON: Why are you here, of all places? COOPER: Why not?

ANON: Well, the papers say you're in Mexico, or South America.

COOPER: And that's where the authorities are looking, right? You don't escape just by crossing borders; look at James Earl Ray. The trick is not to be where they think you'll be. For instance, they didn't expect anyone to hijack a plane in the Northwest, and they didn't expect a parachutist, and... well, I'm sure you catch my drift. I'm not in Mexico or South America yet, so don't believe everything you read in the papers.

ANON: How long did it take you to plan the skyjacking?

COOPER: A year, six months. I had the notion for a long time, but I didn't start the ground work until June. Something happened which made me think it was time to do it.

ANON: What was that? COOPER: Skip it. It would take too long to explain.

ANON: Tell us how you got the idea.

COOPER: It came to me while I was watching TV. Hijackers before me had always been first class fools. Can you imagine anything more stupid than risking the death penalty because you want to go to Cuba right now? Hell, you want to go to Cuba, charter a boat, or go to Mexico. Their airline isn't so bad.

These guys who get so worked up about politics are sick.

Me, I wanted money. Doing it for money [is some...] [text cut off at bottom of column]

---

[...continues from prior column] Ok yes, and I also put the torch to an annual report from Northwest Airlines with an adorable picture of Donald W. Nyrop in it. He's their president.

ANON: Didn't your family get suspicious? COOPER: I don't have a family.

ANON: What about your friends? COOPER: I don't have friends.

ANON: What I've been dying to ask you is, what it felt like to step off the back stairs of a monster going 200 MPH?

COOPER: Scarey. ANON: Just Scarey?

COOPER: No, VERY scarey. Also cold, dark, and windy.

ANON: Can you give us some more details? COOPER: I just did.

ANON: I mean, uh, more step by step description...

COOPER: Well, as you know, once I activated the stairs and the back door it was fucking cold. Below zero, I think I read. I had prepared myself as much as you can with gloves and long johns, but there's a limit to how much protection you can bring along on a business flight from Portland to Seattle. (laughing) It would have been a bit suspicious if I had come aboard in heavy boots, with Eddie Bauer sub-artic gear and a sports chute. I would have had quite a time fitting into [illegible].

ANON: I guess so, but did you, back on the subject, jump immediately after you opened the door?

COOPER: Hell, no. That would have been a very dead giveaway. I had to wait until I was over my touchdown area. This is where the FBI screwed up.

At the "appropriate" time I went back past all those empty seats to the stairs, Christ, it was noisy. Next time I'll have something better than kleenex for ear plugs. I tried to walk down all the stairs. About the tenth step, I think it was, I stepped off. It was all wind and gravity after that.

ANON: Were you aware that planes were following the Northwest 727?

COOPER: Yes, I couldn't see them in the plane or during my fall, but there is NO way I could miss hearing them once I bailed out. Knowing how close McChord is to Sea-Tac, I would have had to be awfully stupid not to figure on having company as we flew south down Vector 23. It was a calculated risk. That is why I jumped in bad weather and at night. And I suppose I waited just a little [text cut off at bottom of column]

[LEFT COLUMN] COOPER: I don't want to disappoint you or your idea [of] Efrem Zimbalist, but they are wrong. He had as much in the brains department as they do in the money department. I'd be in jail right now instead of talking to you. While we're on the subject, I wish somebody would ask that Milnes character just how much money he's spending to chase my ass. I bet it's a pretty penny, over $200,000. ANON: How do you know his name? COOPER: I read the papers just like everyone else. Afterall, I'm in them. ANON: Can you tell us what the first thing you did [after] landing? COOPER: Sure. I buried my chute. ANON: Were you in wooded terrain? COOPER: Yep, an evergreen jungle. ANON: How far were you from where you wanted to be? COOPER: In the neighborhood of five miles. Not too shabby for a first try. ANON: How did you get so close? COOPER: Only two of my projected calculations were off. They weren't important as it turned out. Second, I have a very good Japanese watch. ANON: So? COOPER: Multiply time by speed and you come up with distance. I knew how fast we were going-afterall I told the pilot what speed to go-what vector we were traveling on, and, at least approximately, what the winds were. A man doesn't necessarily need a computer. ANON: How did you get from your landing spot to [here]? Isn't the terrain between Seattle and Reno pretty inaccessible? COOPER: Some is. Some isn't. ANON: You don't want to tell us any more. COOPER: Right. ANON: Can I ask you whether you had an accomplice on the ground? COOPER: Sure, you can ask. ANON: But you won't say? COOPER: Right. I don't intend to give you any information that might incriminate me. ANON: I understand. COOPER: You're getting warmer and let's, at my request, skip the subject.

[MIDDLE COLUMN] COOPER: No [joking/doubt], the [Boeing] 727 [was my first choice]. [It was the] first Boeing 727-100 standard transport that was first flown by Eastern Airlines way back in 1964. ANON: A nice ironic touch. COOPER: Yeah, one of many. ANON: ...So you got to know the 727 from the inside out. What attracted you to the plane as being ideal for a parachute skyjack? COOPER: First of all, the alignment of the three Pratt & Whitney engines-two on the sides of the rear fuselage and the third at the base of the T-tail assembly. I also liked the down-flaps stalling speed. One hundred and nine miles per hour, to be exact. Risky, but jumpable. Then I figured in the small crew; three on the flight deck and the three stewardesses. Two central galleys and the wardrobes with two crappers to the rear. I figured those might come in handy as a place to hold a stewie hostage. As it turned out, I was right. I can even tell you the number of passenger seats, right down to the last piece of lint. ANON: Go ahead. COOPER: Ninety-four. 28 first-class seats, four abreast. Sixty-six tourist seats, six abreast. ANON: What about your exit? COOPER: I was getting to that. The ventral door on [the 727...]

[RIGHT COLUMN - partially illegible at outer edge] COOPER: [I] figured everything down to [the] stairway. It was [a] chute from it[.] [A] hydraulically-operated number, and has automatic reversion to manual control. You might say that, in skyjacking, it's the little things that count. ANON: Let's interrupt the chronology for a minute and talk about motivation. Why did you do it? Of course, there was the $200,000, but what else impelled you? COOPER: I've read the papers, watched television, all of that. I've read that I'm a non-hero, a pop hero, an anti-hero, and a plain old hero hero. The Ordinary Guy who beat the system and became the instant idol of every stiff on unemployment from Vancouver to Tijuana. I've been called a jet-age Jesse James and the Robin Hood of the air. Some of that drivel makes me laugh-and some of it makes me sick, to be frank with you. I want to tell you right now, and put it in capital letters. I did it for the money, true, BUT I ALSO DID IT BECAUSE IT WAS FUN. There is a thrill in being the first to do the impossible. Ask Armstrong. ANON: How do you feel about the backlash of your hijack, the lives that were lost when people tried to copy your modus operandi? COOPER: Well, for one thing, I was personally responsible for the stiffening of airline security. I say [mo... text continues beyond visible area]

---

[Boeing 727 diagram labels, reading left to right] forward entry door galley Stewardesses held Cooper's seat aft entry door Stewardesses ventral stair exit

Goaded by public adoration of the skyjacker and rankled almost to tears by such Coopermaniacal items as ballads ('D.B. Cooper: Where Are You Now?'), D.B. Cooper sweatshirts, and even memorial bikini panties, the Seattle office of the FBI has sworn to scout every inch of terrain between Sea-Tac and Reno, to track down their man. At this writing it looks very much as if Mr. Hoover's minions may have to do exactly that.

The media has been just as eager for clues to Cooper's whereabouts, his true identity, his motives. Locally, the P-I offered a $5,000 reward under their Secret Witness crime fighter series. The Seattle Times, while gently chiding editorially those who would adulate Cooper, has pretty much kept its button-down cool about the whole thing.

Now, into this lacuna-filled tangle of pop heroism, electronic legend and FBI fumbling, steps the Seattle Flag with an authentic, first-person, totally exclusive interview with D.B. Cooper himself.

Elsewhere in this issue we have explained something about how that worldwide scoop was obtained, and the lengths to which the Flag is prepared to go to protect the anonymity of 'D.B. Cooper'. In no way do we either condone or condemn Cooper's crime; our task is to simply report the news, from any viable source.

All we promised, in return for this interview, was that we would under no circumstances-- including grand jury investigation--divulge our source of information; and that we would tell D.B.'s adventure exactly as he related it to us, and respect at all times his inalienable rights under the Constitution.

Namely: life, liberty--and the happiness of pursuit.

Editor's Note: For reasons that are obvious, we are not able to give the full story of how this interview was obtained and who was the Flag's source. We can say that the interview occured in the metropolitan area of Seattle sometime in the month of March. It was not the result of any supersleuthings or investigation on our [part].

---

ANON: [Why not explain], of all places... COOPER: Well, the papers say you're in Mexico or South America. ANON: Well, that's where the authorities are looking, right? You don't escape just by crossing borders; look at James Earl Ray. The trick is not to be where they think you'll be. For instance, they didn't expect anyone to hijack a plane in the Northwest, and they didn't expect a parachutist, and... well, I'm sure you catch my drift. I'm not in Mexico or South America yet, so don't believe everything you read in the papers. ANON: How long did it take you to plan the skyjacking? COOPER: A year, six months. I had the notion for a long time, but I didn't start the ground work until June. Something happened which made me think it was time to do it. ANON: What was that? COOPER: Skip it. It would take too long to explain. ANON: Tell us how you got the idea. COOPER: It came to me while I was watching TV. Hijackers before me had always been first class fools. Can you imagine anything more stupid than risking the death penalty because you want to go to Cuba right now. Hell, you want to go to Cuba, charter a boat, or go to Mexico. Their airline isn't so bad. These guys who get so worked up about politics are sick. Me, I wanted money. Doing it for money, as some girls know, is a lot smarter. The trick I turned was not how to get the money--others had done that--but HOW to get AWAY with the money. ANON: How did you prepare yourself? COOPER: Like anything else, successful skyjacking takes training and hard work. My preparations were as extensive as any astronauts. The guy you're looking at is probable the world's greatest authority on skyjacking. Before I left home on the 22nd, I had a big fire. I burned graphs, airplane floorplans, timetables, weather reports, maps, over a hundred pages of notes...I earned my money.

---

ANON: Can you give us some more detail? COOPER: I just did. ANON: I mean uh, more step by step description. COOPER: Well, as you know, once I activated the stairs and the back door it was fucking cold. Below zero, I think I read. I had prepared myself as much as you can with gloves and long johns, but there's a limit to how much protection you can bring along on a business flight from Portland to Seattle, (laughing) It would have been a bit suspicious if I had come aboard in heavy boots, with Eddie Bauer sub-[artic] gear and a sports chute. I would have had quite a time fitting into [ISD?]. ANON: I guess so, but did you, back on the subject, jump immediately after you opened the door? COOPER: Hell, no. That would have been a very dead giveaway. I had to wait until I was over my touchdown area. This is where the FBI screwed up. At the 'appropriate' time I went back past all those empty seats to the stairs. Christ, it was noisy. Next time I'll have something better than kleenex for ear plugs. I tried to walk down all the stairs. About the tenth step, I think it was, I stepped off. It was all wind and gravity after that. ANON: Were you aware that planes were following the Northwest 727? COOPER: Yes, I couldn't see them in the plane or during my fall, but there is NO way I could miss hearing them once I bailed out. Knowing how close McChord is to Sea-Tac, I would have had to be awfully stupid not to figure on having company as we flew south down Vector 23. It was a calculated risk. That is why I jumped in bad weather and at night. And I suppose I waited just a little longer than I wanted before pulling the chute. ANON: How long was your free fall? COOPER: About 5,000 of the 7,000 feet. Kind of hairy when you can't see the ground or the horizon. ANON: How was the landing? COOPER: Rough. Let's not talk about it. ANON: Is that where you got the limp? COOPER: No, as a matter of fact, I did that in January, skiing. ANON: You went skiing in January!? COOPER: I should go in June? I'm not going to give up what I like to do just because I'm a celebrity. Who'd [want that?]

---

Seattle Flag, May 10, page 2

---

[illegible microfiche/tracking strip]

"Just Air And Gravity..."

[Column 1 — partial, text continues from prior page:] look[ing] me up there, anyway? ANON: (laughter) Well, what about the landing, where did you come down? COOPER: Sorry, I can't tell you that. I'll give you a [clue that...][remainder illegible]

[Column 2:] ANON: Let's go back a little in time and space. You said [you] knew how close McChord is to Sea-Tac. Does that mean you ever lived in the Seattle area? COOPER[?]: Yes, [in] fact, [I once...][remainder illegible]

[Column 3:] the 727-100 is situated under the center engine, [that] meant that [I] could [jump] without [being] [sucked/pulled] [into the engine][remainder illegible]

Well, I Had My Beretta...

---

...that without any phony pride or ego. Anybody who tries to ape me skyjack is an out-and-out idiot. Like the hippie character at O'Hare in Chicago who jacked a [illegible] only to find that the entire crew had rabbited on him.

ANON: Rabbited?

COOPER: Ya, you know, slipped out when he was in back. It left him with a great big airplane but no pilot. Or the weirdo who jumped out a Hughes Airwest DC-9 at Denver. He busted up a few bones and was caught in a little over an hour. The "D.B. Cooper" of Dallas, a real psycho if there ever was one, was captured on the ground and one fellow in New York somewhere got his head splattered by a shotgun. An FBI marksman did that, it said in the papers. Some marksman. He let fly at about sixteen inches with buckshot. J. Edgar should give that [him] a medal, if he hasn't already.

ANON: Speaking of the FBI, aren't you worried that [continues — text cut off at column break]

ANON: And the money, the 200 grand, the largest ransom ever paid in a U.S. skyjack? What about that, will it turn out to be your Achilles heel?

COOPER: Never happen! You must read the papers, too. It would take up to five full pages in almost any newspaper to run the serial numbers of each of those 10,000 bills. But even with the odds in my favor—I mean, who's going to pick out one number out of 10,000?—I'm in no hurry to go on a spending spree. Oh, yes, something else, too. I know those twenties were Xeroxed before they were delivered to me on the ground at Sea-Tac as ransom money. How do I know that? Easy. I could smell the Xerox fluid on them. Quite a telltale odor. I'd say they were run through the copying machines at the banks where Northwest collected the loot.

ANON: May I ask why you picked on Northwest? Did you have a grudge against that airline or something?

[right column:] they got orders from the head man of Northwest himself, who told them to comply with all my demands.

Thankyou Mr. Nyrop, you did the right thing. It would be nice to think that they were being humanitarian, trying to take me alive, but that's a lot of bull.

ANON: What, then, was their rationale?

COOPER: Simple. They must have figured it this way: Why risk four lives—not including mine— and a $5 million airplane for a mere $200,000? It was lousy odds any way you look at that little equation from Northwest's point of view. Now if I had been too greedy, say, and asked for a million, there's no telling what they would have done. It would have raised hell with the Xerox operators, that's damn sure.

ANON: Did you, anywhere along the line, improvise during the skyjack itself, or did you stick to your original game plan?

COOPER: I tried to stay pretty loose, ready to adjust to any situation that might pop up. As it turned out everything followed my script almost to the letter. There was one pretty bad moment, though, that I hadn't planned for. (Long pause.)

ANON: That being...?

COOPER: It happened while we were still negotiating on the ground at Sea-Tac. I was getting pretty antsy anyhow, since the refueling was not being done and I guessed somebody was doing a lot of stalling, planning some kind of strategy or, hoping to get a man in close enough to sharpshoot me. That had happened to some poor boob back at [illegible] week before or [illegible] ago. The chief pilot of Northwest drove out on the grinder with the ransom money and the two parachutes I had ordered. One of the stewardesses—I was holding another [text continues onto next page]

---

*Our Scoop*

The Flag's editor was first approached in late March by a friend of a staffer who claimed to have an 'interview' with the infamous D.B. Cooper. In defiance of expectations, we met an ordinary looking man of 20 plus years who said he had a taped conversation with D.B. On the chance it might bear fruit we accompanied him to an office where he brought out a tape recorder and a photograph. Before we were allowed access to either we signed an agreement of [illegible] to either [illegible]

[middle column of box:] over the picture and we saw a photograph of a twenty. "This bill," he said, "used to be in a local bank, then it was pulled out of a vault on Wednesday, the 24th of November, put in a case and taken to Seatac where it was delivered to D.B. Cooper, who some time later bailed out of a Northwest 727 with it in a sack tied to his body. There is no other way it could have gotten here without my meeting and talking to Cooper himself."

[right column of box — heavily degraded:] [illegible] the chief pilot of Northwest drove out on the grinder with the ransom money and the two parachutes I had ordered. One of the stewardesses—I was holding another [text continues]

"Just Air And Gravity..."

---

look for me up there, anyway? ANON: (laughter) Well, what about the landing, where did you come down? COOPER: Sorry, I can't tell you that. I'll give you a clue though; it's over a hundred miles away from S.W. Washington. ANON: But the FBI contends you bailed out down by Vancouver Washington, if I remember right. COOPER: I don't want to disappoint you or your local Efrem Zimbalist, but they are wrong. If they had as much in the brains department as they do in the money department, I'd be in jail right now instead of talking to you. While we're on the subject, I wish somebody would ask that Milnes character just how much money he's spending to chase my ass. I bet it's a pretty penny over $200,000. ANON: How do you know his name? COOPER: I read the papers just like everyone else. Afterall, I'm in them. ANON: Can you tell us what the first thing you did on landing? COOPER: Sure. I buried my chute. ANON: Were you in wooded terrain? COOPER: Yep, an evergreen jungle. ANON: How far were you from where you wanted to be? COOPER: In the neighborhood of five miles. Not too shabby for a first try. ANON: How did you get so close? COOPER: Only two of my projected calculations were off. They weren't important as it turned out. Second, I have a very good japanese watch. ANON: So? COOPER: Multiply time by speed and you come up with distance. I knew how fast we were going—afterall I told the pilot what speed to go—what vector we were

---

ANON: Let's go back a little in time and space. You said knew how close McChord is to Sea-Tac. Does that mean you ever lived in the Seattle area? COOPER: Yes. In fact, I once was a Larry Lunchbucket at Boeing's. ANON: Outrageous! Were you an engineer at Boeing, or something like that? COOPER: No, nothing that fancy. Just an ordinary badger, but I did work on the 727's. I worked on the first Boeing 727-100 standard transport that was first flown by Eastern Airlines way back in 1964. ANON: A nice ironic touch... COOPER: Yeah, one of many... ANON:...So you got to know the 727 from the inside out. What attracted you to the plane as being ideal for a parachute skyjack? COOPER: First of all, the alignment of the three Pratt & Whitney engines—two on the sides of the rear fuselage and the third at the base of the T-tail assembly. I also liked the down-flaps stalling speed. One hundred and nine miles per hour, to be exact. Risky, but jumpable. Then I figured in the small crew; three on the flight deck and the three stewardesses. Two central galleys and the wardrobes with two crappers to the rear. I figured those might come in handy as a place to hold a stewie hostage. As it turned out, I was right. I can even tell you the number of passenger seats, right down to the last piece of lint. ANON: Go ahead. COOPER: Ninety-four. 28 first-class seats, four abreast. Sixty-six tourist seats, six abreast. ANON: What about your exit? COOPER: I was getting to that. The ventral door on

---

the 727-100 is situated under the center engine. That meant that I could jump without being vacuum-cleanered into a 3,156-pound turbofan or diced into french fries on a flap. It was really the only ship, all 80 tons of it, that would fit my needs, and the door was the crux, the key. It's six-foot, four inches high and two feet, eight inches in width. Room to spare for an ordinary-sized person like myself, chute pack and all. Look. You don't get an encore for an act like mine. I figured everything down to a gnat's ass. Even the stairway I was to chute from. It's a hydraulically-operated number, and has automatic reversion to manual control. You might say, that in skyjacking, it's the little things that count. ANON: Let's interrupt the chronology for a minute and talk about motivation. Why did you do it? Of course there was the $200,000, but what else impelled you? COOPER: I've read the papers, watched television, all of that. I've read that I'm a non-hero, a pop hero, an anti-hero, and a plain old hero hero. The Ordinary Guy who beat the system and became the instant idol of every stiff on unemployment from Vancouver to Tijuana. I've been called a jet-age Jesse James and the Robin Hood of the air. Some of that drivel makes me laugh—and some of it makes me sick, to be frank with you. I want to tell you right now, and put it in capital letters. I did it for the money, true, BUT I ALSO DID IT BECAUSE IT WAS FUN. There is a thrill in being the first to do the impossible. Ask Armstrong. ANON: How do you feel about the backlash of your hijack, the lives that were lost when people tried to copy your modus operandi? COOPER: Well, for one thing, I was personally responsible for the stiffening of airline security. I say

SEATTLE FLAG

Vol. 1, No. 5 May 10 25 cents

D.B.COOPER FOUND[!]

[partially illegible top margin] ...head splattered by a shotgun. An FBI marksman did that, it said in the papers. Some marksman. He let fly at about sixteen inches with buckshot. J. Edgar should give that agent a medal, if he hasn't already. ANON: Speaking of the FBI, aren't you worried that the Bureau is going to search every inch of ground between Seattle and Reno to find you? COOPER: Happy Trails. ANON: Aren't you afraid that they'll trace you through your skydiving experience or some of those 21 pounds of twenties you got from Northwest? COOPER: WHAT skydiving experience? WHAT 21 pounds of twenties? It requires very few smarts to guess that anybody who can pull the first skydive from a commercial jet-- in the dead of night, free-falling with 200 grand strapped around his gut, wearing street clothes and low-cut shoes--knows his ass from a D-ring, so to speak. Sure, I've done a lot of skydiving over the [continues below / cut off]

---

*Our Scoop*

The Flag's editor was first approached in late March by a friend of a staffer who claimed to have an interview with the infamous D.B. Cooper. In defiance of expectations, we met an ordinary looking man of 20 plus years who said he had a taped conversation with D.B. Cooper. On the chance it might bear fruit we accompanied him to an office where he brought out a tape recorder and photograph. Before we were allowed access to either we signed an agreement of confidentiality.

It stated that under no conditions could we divulge our source, that we were not allowed to print the interview before the 1st of May, that after transcription the tape must be destroyed, in addition we agreed not to cooperate in any way with local police authorities.

All these conditions were quite amenable. But the next one required $1000 cash. Before agreeing to say goodbye to real unmarked money we asked to see some proof, Clifford Irving still fresh in our minds. It was then that our source turned

over the picture and we saw a photograph of a twenty. "This bill," he said, "used to be in a local bank, then it was pulled out of a vault on Wednesday, the 24th of November, put in a case and taken to Seatac where it was delivered to D.B. Cooper, who some time later bailed out of a Northwest 727 with it in a sack tied to his body. There is no other way it could have gotten here without my meeting and talking to Cooper himself."

After calling a bank to verify, we met all the stated conditions.

Later, when we had heard the tape and realized just how great it was, we asked our anonymous source why he came to us. Well, the PI was out, it seems, because they were offering $5,000 for his head. The Times was considered untrustworthy. And all the television stations would have required a tape from which voice prints could be made. The Flag was the last resort.

We have not seen him since, but we assume he will pick up a copy of this issue.

---

ANON: May I ask why you picked on Northwest? Did you have a grudge against that airline or something? COOPER: No, I had nothing against Northwest at all, far from it. They happen to be my very favorite airline right now. But I did know that Northwest is one of the biggest profit-makers of all the airlines, and that they could raise the $200,000 fast. I was sure Northwest could get the money for me even if Flight 305 got in from Portland after the banks had closed for the day. And there were other considerations, too. There had never been a real skyjack at Seattle, and Northwest definitely does not have what I would call a "take me to [Katmandu]" [continues / cut off at column break]

---

ANON: Did you anywhere along the line improvise during the skyjack itself or did you stick to your original game plan? COOPER: I tried to stay pretty loose, ready to adjust to any situation that might pop up. As it turned out, everything followed my script almost to the letter. There was one pretty bad moment, though, that I hadn't planned for. (Long pause.) ANON: That being...? COOPER: It happened while we were still negotiating on the ground at Sea-Tac. I was getting pretty antsy anyhow, since the refueling was not being done and guessed somebody was doing a lot of stalling, planning some kind of strategy or hoping to get a man in close enough to sharpshoot me. That had happened to some poor boob back east the week before so I was edgy. The chief pilot of Northwest drove out on the grinder with the ransom money and the two parachutes I had ordered. One of the stewardesses--I was holding another as hostage, in the rear of the passenger cabin, back by the port latrine--came back with the money in a white canvas bag. I checked out the loot, [first checking / illegible], before, I could smell the Xerox on those 200 big ones, but as long as they were the real thing and not photo-copies, I was satisfied. Then the stew made two more trips outside onto the runway to bring in the 'chutes. It was at this point that Captain Scott cut in on the cabin intercom. "The first fuel truck is here," is what he said.

Peeking through one of the cabin windows I could see the refueling truck crewmen at the fueling point, at the underside of the starboard wing at mid-span. The statistics, from my Boeing days and homework, clicked in my head: standard fuel capacity for the 727-100 is precisely 7,174 gallons. That's U.S. Gallons. I was convinced we'd need every drop of it--including most of the fumes, where we were heading.

ANON: And where was that...? COOPER: Mexico. (Clears his throat loudly.) Or at least that's where I wanted them to think I was taking them.

---

COOPER: Would it make a better story for you if I did? ANON: No. But other lines fly the 727, don't they...? COOPER: No, I had nothing against Northwest at all, far from it. They happen to be my very favorite airline right now. But I did know that Northwest is one of the biggest profit-makers of all the airlines, and that they could raise the $200,000 fast. I was sure Northwest could get the money for me even if Flight 305 got in from Portland after the banks had closed for the day. [continues — duplicate/overlap with section 3, different column placement]

---

"Take me to Katmandu."

[Left column top, partial — continuation from previous page:] ...not to cooperate in any way with local police authorities... All lifestyles conditions were quite amenable. But the next one required $1000 cash. Before agreeing to say goodbye to real unmarked money we asked to see some proof. Clifford Irving still fresh in our minds. It was then that our source turned...

[Middle column top, partial:] [Times] was considered untrustworthy... And all the television stations would have required a tape from which voice prints could be made. The Flag was the last resort. We have not seen him since, but we assume he will pick up a copy of this issue.

[Right column top, partial:] Peering through one of the cabin windows [at] the refueling truck crewmen at the fueling point [on the] underside of the starboard wing at mid-span. The statistics from my Boeing days and homework [had] kicked in my head: standard fuel capacity for the 727-[300] is precisely 7,174 gallons. That's U.S. Gallons. [I was] convinced we'd need every drop of it–including most of the fumes, where we were heading. ANON: And where was that...? COOPER: Mexico. (Clears his throat loudly.) Or at least that's where I wanted them to think I was taking them.

---

the Bureau is going to search every inch of ground between Seattle and Reno to find you? [CO]PER: Happy Trails. ANON: Aren't you afraid that they'll trace you through your skydiving experience or some of those 21 pounds of twenties you got from Northwest? COOPER: WHAT skydiving experience? WHAT 21 pounds of twenties? It requires very few smarts to guess that anybody who can pull the first skydive from a commercial jet– in the dead of night, free-falling with 200 grand strapped around his gut, wearing street clothes and low-cut shoes–knows his ass from a D-ring, so to speak. Sure, I've done a lot of skydiving over the years and belonged to several clubs, but I don't think that's much of a lead for the FBI to go on. ANON: Why not? COOPER: Because maybe 20,000, maybe more, people make the one jump–each year, I mean–that's needed to get their certificate. Most of them, maybe 75 per cent, qualify and then stop jumping. With a turnover like [that] it'll take the law years to pick up my scent. I did have one private quirk as a skydiver, though. ANON: That being...? COOPER: I did thousands of weight-lifts to build up my ankles. Even did roadwork with weighted leather [s]acks of sand buckled to my ankles. Occasionally I would jump wearing low-cuts, but none of the other skydivers—they've got to be the most vain, glory-hounding types you'll find anywhere—ever noticed. They were too wrapped up in their own Superman fantasies.

---

COOPER: Would it make a better story for you if I did? ANON: No. But other lines fly the 727, don't they...? COOPER: No, I had nothing against Northwest at all, far from it. They happen to be my very favorite airline right now. But I did know that Northwest is one of the biggest profit-makers of all the airlines, and that they could raise the $200,000 fast. I was sure Northwest could get the money for me even if Flight 305 got in from Portland after the banks had closed for the day. And there were other considerations, too. There had never been a real skyjack at Seattle, and Northwest definitely does not have what I would call a "take me to Cuba complex". All of those things–plus some other little subtleties–helped make my decision to jump Northwest. ANON: Let's touch a little on the actual drama of the skyjack itself, shall we? COOPER: All right... ANON: Was your briefcase bomb real, or was it fake? COOPER: It was real, in the sense that it worked. In actuality it was a fake. The dynamite sticks the stewardesses blabbered about were nothing more than some Gillette shaving-cream cans rigged with prima-cord fuses. Five of them were in the briefcase I flashed. I painted them red because people always associate that color with something explosive, like dynamite. ANON: Why did they fall for it? Were they stupid, super-cautious, or what? COOPER: I'd say none of those, only well-endoctrinated and thoroughly trained. Of course,

---

ANON: OK. Go on... COOPER: I checked out the chutes and the loot, then I hit the intercom to the flight deck. My words were, "Let the passengers off. But I want everybody in the cockpit and the other two stews to stay on the plane. Is that clear?" The captain roger-ed that. It was at this point that my game plan, as you call it, went a little haywire. The passengers–there were around 34, 35, of them, by my count–began their exit, using the front airstairs and walking across the concrete to where a bus was waiting. Holding my bomb attache case, I went out into the cabin. Right then this guy, middle-aged and executive looking, began to push his way back through the line into the tourist compartment. I tensed, telling myself, "Oh-oh. Here's the oddball, the frustrated World"

---

"Take me to Katmandu."

---

Seattle Flag, May 10, page 4

---

[illegible — microfiche index strip with alphanumeric frame codes]

[...partial, text cut at left edge...] War II hero who saw 'Airport' and wants to get a medal hung around his neck at the White House and a free lifetime pass to ride on Northwest airplanes anywhere in the world."

ANON: What would you have done to stop the man? COOPER: Well, I had my Beretta. Fortunately for both of us, he was not playing hero. He had only left his briefcase on his seat and was rushing back to pick it up. I sympathized with the man. He had that harried, pinch-faced look of an unemployed Boeing accountant. (General laughter.)

ANON: Now you were holding one of the stewardesses hostage. Where was this? COOPER: Part of the time behind the rear galley curtain, part of the time in the toilet. ANON: Which Stew was this? COOPER: Mucklow. She was the blond, tall one. Had a wristwatch with a clunky leather band, as I remember. Hell, you've seen one stew, you've seen 'em all. ANON: What did you do while you were waiting for the money and chutes? COOPER: I watched, waited, and smoked. Oh, and I prayed to high heaven they didn't call my bluff. All I could have done was give them a shave. Seems like I smoked a couple packs of Raleighs too.

If the FBI was going to make a move it would have been at Sea-Tac. Everybody but the stew with me and the three-man crew was clear of the aircraft. I buzzed the cockpit and asked the captain what the hell was the holdup. He said they were having trouble with the vapor lock[illegible] and that another truck was coming. I said, "OK, but remember, 'one truck at a time.'" Eventually five trucks came out, but only three of them were able to deliver. At this juncture, I [text continues below image, partially cut off]

---

[PHOTOGRAPH] Caption/credit line (lower right of photo area): Courtesy of Vancouver Columbian

---

The Search: "The FBI was wrong."

[Right column, partially obscured:] [...] way to Cuba. I began to realize that if I didn't hurry up [illegible] playing hero? Uh-uh. ANON: It sounds like a Jerry Lewis movie. Have you heard that song about you? COOPER: Yes. A [text cut off]

ANON: Do you recall what you told the captain? COOPER: The last time, I do. I said, "It's takeoff time. Take me to Mexico." ANON: What was the Captain's reaction? COOPER: About the same as if I had said, "Take me to Katmandu". He looked at me as if I were totally insane. He said he could try Medford, Red Bluff or Reno, all on Vector 23. My response was negative. He then suggested San Francisco; I told him no, very emphatically. I said, "I want the flaps at 15 per cent and the gear down. I also want the ventral staircase down when you take off." He gave me a negative on the stairs. [He] said, not too gently as I recall, "God damnit, I can't [rotate] for departure–lift the nose and rotate–with those [flaps down]." He also told me that he couldn't make Mexico with the flaps and gear down, but that he would compute the fuel consumption and shoot for Reno. I was glad he got my idea all by himself. I told him affirmative, to head south. Then I slammed the cockpit door and went back to the tourist compartment with the stew. According to my watch, we got airborne at 7:40 p.m., four hours and 42 minutes since leaving Portland. Like I said I have a very good watch. ANON: Speaking of Portland...Shortly after takeoff you handed your skyjack note to one of the stewardesses... COOPER: Yes. The brunette, and she thought I was trying to proposition her...In a way, she was right. ANON: You were very careful about retrieving that note, about not leaving it–or anything else– behind as evidence. Could you tell us what the note said? COOPER: Word for word. It said, "I am hijacking this aircraft. Relay instructions to the ground that I want $200,000 in $20's and two parachutes delivered to me when the plane lands. I have a bomb." Thirty words. You know that's $6,666 a word? ANON: Not bad by anyone's standards. Tell me, were you scared of anything in particular when you first got on the plane? COOPER: There was one thing. I had nightmares for almost a week prior to the jack. I would be on a plane with my homemade bomb and my note. And I would give the note to some dolly stewardess, and she would turn around and tell me that she was very sorry but that the plane had already been hijacked and we were on our [way–text cut off at column edge]

---

COOPER: [continuing from prior column] You can look it up if you like. There is a D.B. Cooper listed. ANON: We'd like to know something about the parachutes that were delivered to you aboard the jet. Were they to your liking? COOPER: Negative. Somebody was playing games there. The backpack harness did not have the necessary D-rings for attaching the chestpacks. They were some sort of emergency rigs for aerobatic flying, I guess. So I just said to hell with it, I'd have to jump without a reserve. ANON: Everyone assumed you asked for two parachutes so they wouldn't give you one with a note that said crime doesn't pay in it, not knowing whether you were going to force somebody, like the stewardess maybe, to bail out with you. What did you do with the extra parachute? COOPER: I made a special point of not leaving it behind in the cabin. I cut it up into strips and used the strips to tie the money bag to my waist, very securely. Next question. ANON: You've told us something about the jump, about working the escape door and plunging out into the darkness. How did you bail out without tipping off the crew? COOPER: [no answer transcribed—tape gap follows] (tape garbled briefly here.) ...took the stewardess forward, and ordered the captain to lock the door from the inside. I checked it out. It was locked. I returned aft, closing the first-class and tourist compartment curtains securely behind me. Do you know how eerie it is to have a complete airplane to yourself except for some scared robots? Anyway I got on the blower to the flight deck again, telling Scott to hold the aircraft at 7,000 feet, and speed at 200 miles per hour. ANON: But how could you be sure he'd follow your orders? COOPER: He'd been told to cooperate. More importantly, he'd seen me pop into his cockpit. I made a point of reading his gauges. If you were him would you want to risk upsetting a madman with a bomb by [text cut off at column edge]

---

[Pull-quote box]: "I'll be back in five years..." [Above pull-quote, partially illegible]: ...told him to cooperate and that I got too bugged [and] my bomb was liable to go off. Then I said, as I remember... "Now hear me, this is your skyjacker speaking. Nobody under any circumstances, is to attempt to make any further contact with me. Is that understood?" They understood. ANON: It was at that time that you leaped clear with the $200,000? COOPER: Well, sometime after that. ANON: One final thing, Mr. Cooper. You've got $200,000, a national reputation, you've been first at something you've wanted to do. That's awkward but you know what I mean...what now? COOPER: I'm going to retire. Tonight, I am leaving for parts unknown. ANON: You aren't going to fly, are you? COOPER: What do you think? ANON: Don't know, to tell the truth. COOPER: Good. Loose lips sink ships. I've let mine flap far too freely. It's very hard to keep a story like mine inside. Especially after all the nonsense that has been written about me. Just as well that we cleared the air. You were the first to ask, did you know that? ANON: My privilege. For your sake I hope I'm the only one to ask. When will you be back? COOPER: Somewhere in the neighborhood of five years. ANON: Why five years? COOPER: That, my friend, is the statute of limitations. [FLAG]: Goodbye, Mr. Cooper... [and good luck]