Mr. Weissman.

west. He quit and went back to work with Local 3 in New York City, IBW.

Mr. Jenner.

Your father's name is Harry?

Mr. Weissman.

Harry Weissman; yes, sir.

Mr. Jenner.

Do you reside with him now at 439 South Columbus Avenue in Mount Vernon?

Mr. Weissman.

Yes.

Mr. Jenner.

You were discharged from the Army honorably?

Mr. Weissman.

Yes.

Mr. Jenner.

You were married when, sir?

Mr. Weissman.

November 7, 1958.

Mr. Jenner.

A New York girl?

Mr. Weissman.

Yonkers, N.Y.

Mr. Jenner.

And you have some children?

Mr. Weissman.

No.

Mr. Jenner.

You separated, as you have indicated. Now, would you start from the Army?
Before I get to that, you met Larrie Schmidt in the Army?

Mr. Weissman.

Yes; I did.

Mr. Jenner.

What other buddies did you have in the Army with whom you again renewed your acquaintance when you were discharged from the Army and went to Dallas?

Mr. Weissman.

Only one beside Larrie. That was Bill Burley. William Burley.

Mr. Jenner.

What contact did you have with Mr. Larrie Schmidt and Mr. Burley after you left the Army, which eventually brought you to Dallas? State it in your own words and chronologically, please.

Mr. Weissman.

Well, I got out of service on the 5th, and I spent the month of August looking for a job. During this time, I had been in contact with Larrie. I had telephoned him once during August. Things were pretty bad. I didn't have any money. As far as I could ascertain he was broke himself. There wasn't any percentage in going to Dallas and not accomplishing anything. As a matter of fact, I had lost a good deal of confidence in Larrie in the year that he left Munich and was in Dallas, and the letters I got from him--he seemed to have deviated from our original plan. I wasn't too hot about going. He didn't seem to be accomplishing anything, except where it benefitted him.

Mr. Jenner.

You say he deviated from the original plan. What was the original plan?

Mr. Weissman.

Well, the original plan was to stay away from various organizations and societies that were, let's call them, radical, and had a reputation as being such.

Mr. Jenner.

When you say radical, what do you mean?

Mr. Weissman.

I mean radical right. And I considered myself more of an idealist than a politician. Larrie was more of a politician than an idealist. He went with the wind--which is good for him, I guess, and bad for me.
In any case Larrie wrote me easily a dozen letters imploring me to come down, telling me in one that he doesn't need me down there, but he would love to have my help because he can't accomplish anything without me, and in the next one saying, "Forget it, I don't need you," and so forth. As the letters came, they went with the wind, depending on what he was doing personally. And along about the end of October, I had been in contact with Bill--he was in Baltimore, Md., selling hearing aids. He wasn't getting anywhere. He was making a living.

Mr. Jenner.

Up to this point each of you was barely making a living?

Mr. Weissman.

Right.

Mr. Jenner.

And you had no capital?

Mr. Weissman.

No.

Mr. Jenner.

No funds of your own?

Mr. Weissman.

None at all. And I got in touch with Bill. Actually, I forgot how it was. He wrote me a letter and I wrote him a letter. In any case, it came about that I invited Bill up to Mount Vernon, because he figured if there was any money to be made it would be made in New York, because this is a