By Frank W. Abagnale, Stan Redding
Frank W. Abagnale, alias Frank Williams, Robert Conrad, Frank Adams, and Robert Monjo, used to be the most bold con males, forgers, imposters, and break out artists in background. In his short yet infamous felony profession, Abagnale donned a pilot's uniform and copiloted a Pan Am jet, masqueraded because the supervising resident of a health facility, practiced legislation with no license, handed himself off as a faculty sociology professor, and cashed over $2.5 million in solid assessments, all ahead of he was once twenty-one. identified by way of the police of twenty-six international nations and all fifty states as "The Skywayman," Abagnale lived a luxurious lifestyles at the lam-until the legislation stuck up with him. Now famous because the nation's major authority on monetary foul play, Abagnale is an enthralling rogue whose hilarious, stranger-than-fiction overseas escapades, and creative escapes-including one from an airplane-make Catch Me when you Can an impossible to resist story of deceit.
The uproarious, bestselling actual tale of the world's so much sought-after con guy presently in improvement as a DreamWorks characteristic film.
"I stole each nickel and blew it on positive threads, sumptuous accommodations, exceptional foxes, and different sensual candies. I partied in each capital in Europe and basked on the entire world's most famed beaches."
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Extra info for Catch Me If You Can: The True Story of a Real Fake
She seemed satisfied with her new, independent life. I had no plans to run away. But every time Dad put on his postal clerk’s uniform and drove off to work in his old car, I’d feel depressed. I couldn’t forget how he used to wear Louis Roth suits and drive big expensive cars. One June morning of 1964,1 woke up and knew it was time to go. ” So I went. I didn’t say good-bye to anyone. I didn’t leave any notes behind. I had $200 in a checking account at the Westchester branch of the Chase Manhattan Bank, an account Dad had set up for me a year before and which I’d never used.
One June morning of 1964,1 woke up and knew it was time to go. ” So I went. I didn’t say good-bye to anyone. I didn’t leave any notes behind. I had $200 in a checking account at the Westchester branch of the Chase Manhattan Bank, an account Dad had set up for me a year before and which I’d never used. I dug out my checkbook, packed my best clothes in a single suitcase and caught a train for New York City. It wasn’t exactly a remote corner of the globe, but I thought it would make a good jumping-off place.
He took a form from a file slot on his desk and laid it on the counter with a pair of golden wings and a Pan Am cap badge and stood, pen poised. “Robert Black, first officer, 35099,” I said, affixing the hat emblem and pinning the wings on my tunic. “I’m out of Los Angeles. ” He grinned. “Nah, damned computers don’t need noth-in‘ but numbers,” he replied, handing me a copy of the purchase form. I loitered leaving the building, trying to mingle unobtrusively with the crowd. I wanted to pick up as much information as possible on airline pilots and airline operations, and this seemed a good opportunity to glean a few tidbits.
Catch Me If You Can: The True Story of a Real Fake by Frank W. Abagnale, Stan Redding