Part 1, page 27

Transcript

The scan is the source; the transcript is machine-generated from it.

Seattle could successfully bail out with the money, vanish and evaporate. He still hasn't been discovered by the law.

Cooper planned the hijacking for more than a year. Every detail had been carefully researched. Every step had been painstakingly rehearsed. Every possible foul-up had been anticipated—even marked money and bad weather. Every previous hijacking had been patiently studied. They had all failed, at least by D.B. Cooper's standards: The perpetrators all had been caught, killed or set down empty-handed in some distant place like Cuba.

Cooper was no political fanatic. Nor was he a nut. He was an ordinary, God-fearing, patriotic, country club-oriented, upward-climbing WASP engineer, (salary: about $25,000 a year) who was motivated by two things: anger, and money. He had no desire to be either hero or martyr. He simply wanted to get the money, and get away.

As he tooled down Interstate 5 that rainy morning, he carefully reviewed what he had stashed in the briefcase to pull the job off: two cheap hairpieces (cost: $35); an altimeter, a compass, a stop-watch, a walkie-talkie, three small radio transmitters, black gloves, dark wrap-around sunglasses, a make-up kit, a foul weather jacket, a black cap. And a replica of a bomb—three red flares of the type police use to mark auto accidents, wired cleverly together and attached to what appeared to be a detonating device.

In the right-hand inside pocket of his dark business suit jacket, he carried

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Making...

As he drove, he listened idly to the radio and methodically reviewed his plan—the landing site, the weather, the timing, the getaway route, all the minute details he had brooded over with slide-rule precision for months. He originally had wanted to bring in a confederate. That would make the job easier, especially if he could get an accomplice who could fly a helicopter and scoop him up when he touched down and rush him to safe obscurity. But he finally discarded that idea. Too risky. A partner might talk. And besides, when the chips were down, could he really count on somebody else? No, he decided. [illegible]

Cooper was tense, but confident. Since he had worked at Boeing for 15 years, he knew the Boeing more intimately than he knew his motorboat. He had chosen this particular flight in part for that reason: 727s were used exclusively on the Seattle-Portland run, and the 727 was the only airplane in commercial use that opened in the rear, making a parachute jump feasible. And further, the 727 could be slowed down enough

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enough [illegible] possible [illegible] from water and high [illegible] which a parachutist always [illegible] mote, enough so he [illegible] detection.

The spot Cooper [illegible] east of the tiny farming village [illegible] Center, less than five miles from Interstate 5, and about 30 miles north of Portland. There was water around (Lake Merwin) but Cooper felt he could jump and avoid it, even at night—and there were high-tension lines but Cooper believed he could steer away from them.

The weather was [illegible] 'a cloudy, overcast' even at night. He reasoned that other planes would be dispatched to follow the hijacked craft (C-130s were in fact used), so he wanted cloud conditions and rain, anything that would reduce visibility and make spotting him difficult if not impossible when he bailed out. He couldn't afford to have it known exactly where he was jumping. Hence he needed inclement weather, but not rainy enough

[illegible] Center and parked [illegible] [illegible] amplified his [illegible] his radio transmitters [illegible] There were three of them [illegible] battery-powered [illegible] talked at friend [illegible] This friend of mine— [illegible] time prior to that [illegible] were talking, discussing [illegible] and transmitters, and [illegible] make one up for [illegible] sale [illegible] have radar [illegible] If a fellow had a little transmitter, because if he were going to a fishing area somewhere, and he should happen to get soaked in by fog or something, could use the transmitter to [illegible] his position. So I said 'something if you are thinking about it, how about making me up a couple of them?' So he did,' Cooper said.

The tiny radio transmitters each had a small antenna, and each emitted a 'beep' signal which could be picked up by a walkie-talkie, tuned to the proper frequency. The transmitter [illegible] essential to his plan [illegible]

Cooper drove out and placed one of the transmitters in a wood patch near a rural church; he placed another one in a ditch beside the road; he left the third one in the trunk of his car. The placement of the three transmitters formed a loose triangle, so that when he received the signal from all three of them on his walkie-talkie, he would know precisely where he was. If flying, he would be able [illegible] between the clouds, would be able to see the highway and the lights down there, but 'I wanted to have that beep-beep signal in case anything went wrong,' Cooper said.

A Little Satire...

Cooper had made practice runs on the Portland-Seattle flight—a half-dozen times—checking the terrain, checking the compass route, familiarizing himself with landmarks, and on the final [illegible]

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Fleming clandestinely interviewed D.B. Cooper outside Seattle.

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Karl Fleming was associated with Newsweek magazine as correspondent, Los Angeles bureau chief and contributing editor for 11 years before resigning April 15 to found L.A. While with Newsweek, he covered virtually every significant civil rights story of the turbulent '60s, including Birmingham, Selma, Ole Miss, Little Rock and Watts. He covered the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and his brother Robert and those of Martin Luther King and Medgar Evers. He was assigned to Richard Nixon during the last Presidential [illegible]