Bob Cartwright used to brag that Portland is the Cancun of the Lehigh Valley. He'd tell me its water tastes like Perrier, and caution the rest of us are all downstream. I hear lots of stories about Portland and the Slate Belt from that region's seanchaí, Ron Angle. He's a master storyteller, which leads me to believe there must be at least some Irish in him, despite his claims to the contrary. Cartwright claims Ron inherited this gift from his father Fred.
Not long ago, having survived Ron's guard geese, I visited with both Ron and his wife Sharon for dinner. Another fellow showed up and Ron began to spin his yarns. Some may even be true! I love the written word, but there's nothing like listening to a seanchaí. Angle has loads of stories, featuring numerous topics. But he always returns to Portland, where he grew up, and the Slate Belt.
In all the years I've known Ron, I only recently heard this one. Angle was once involved in a bank robbery, and wasn't the robber! In fact, he nearly foiled it.
Ron at one time worked for the Second Nat'l Bank of Pen Argyl. He started out as a teller, but became a repo man who excelled at collecting bad debts. His methods were often unconventional, and probably illegal, but they worked. They include a trip to Philly's deepest and darkest ghetto, where he once found himself surrounded by a group of angry blacks when they caught him trying to repossess a Caddy. The owner had removed the battery, and Angle was caught when he put in a new one.
He carried a gun, and I suppose he could have used it, but he would have died. That is probably the day he discovered that he has a much more powerful weapon - his tongue. He not only talked his way out of this jam, but left this gang on good terms.
The only person I know who was as good at getting into a pickle, and then talking his way out of it, was my Dad.
I'll tell you his repo man stories some other day.
Bank officials were quick to promote Angle because he delivered, and he eventually found himself with a hot Mustang and in charge of security. This was in the early '70s, before cell phones, but Angle wanted a car phone. The bank refused to spend the money, a decision it would soon regret.
There had been a rash of bank robberies in the area, so Angle was visiting all the branches each day to see if all was well. This included what is now the PNC Bank in Plainfield Township, right beyond the fork separating Rte 191 and Sullivan Trail. Angle pulled in and could see people standing inside with their hands up in the air.
He pulled into the parking lot, and saw one car, a beat-up old junker, that looked out of place. He pulled into the other side of the parking lot, and waited for the robber to make his exit. His plan was to run the guy over and then shoot him.
But when the robber exited the branch, he was not alone. He had the branch manager with him as a hostage. And instead of going to the beat-up old car (which turned out to belong to a neighbor), the robber had the manager get in his own car.
As they left, Angle followed along Route 191, going right by state police cruisers with their emergency lights headed in the opposite direction, responding to the robbery. Eventually, the bank robber realized he was being followed, and picked up the speed, but Angle was in a Mustang. The guy eventually pulled into a parking lot and spun the car around and fingered to Angle to come over. Angle shook his head No, but the robber pointed a gun at the manager's head. So Angle pulled alongside, and the robber told him not to follow or the bank manager would be dead. He said he'd release the manager once he was sure he was free, and then took off.
Angle waited a few minutes and then took off, but this time was looking for the bank manager. He found him near the Belfast exit off Route 33. The robber had parked his car there and had now made his getaway.
Angle and the manager returned to the bank and explained what had happened to the police, whom Angle said were moving in slow motion. Instead of hopping onto Route 33, troopers were more interested in his date of birth and his addresses for the last 17 years.
The bank robber was long gone before the staties started looking for him.
But he continued to rob banks. On his 11th robbery, he screwed up. He had walked into the bank and they closed the door behind him. It was quitting time, but he thought they were onto him and freaked out and ran. Police caught up to him walking along Route 191, but they still did not have enough.
The FBI was able to piece it all together and eventually arrested the guy.
They actually made their arrest while he was coaching a baseball game in New Jersey.
The guy had a gambling problem and owed a lot of money to mob loan sharks. In exchange for his cooperation, he got a five year sentence for 11 robberies.
There is an old link to the robber's arrest in The Daily Intelligencer from July 9, 1971, but I am unable to reproduce it here because it is copyrighted.
By the way, the day after the robbery, the bank got Angle a car phone.
