Sperry exploitation, theft and revenge
Stealing from everyone
He was a conman extraordinaire who would steal from anyone: employers, friends, strangers, my mother, or her children’s piggybanks. He borrowed or conned money from the wrong people, people who would come to our house looking to exact revenge or get payment, or both. He was able to con our mailman into giving him the mail before it was delivered, keeping my mother in the dark about bills not being paid or money borrowed from finance companies. The mailman later testified that Sperry told him my mother was abusive, nosey, and reckless with her spending, and he needed to know what she was spending his money on before she hid the bill.
He was flashy and a big spender and pretender. He was self-important and self-adored, believing his own grandiose importance. He was a wannabe mobster with imaginary ties to the mob and important “players.” Everyone was drawn to this powerful, slightly dangerous, persona he built. The stories he told were bold, and when one was printed in the local newspaper, the town hailed him a quiet hero. No one knew they had a retired fighter pilot living in their midst. They had no idea he was the one who flew over Hiroshima and dropped pamphlets warning of the nuclear bomb. He saved thousands of lives and was rewarded with the Silver Star and Bronze Metal for his heroics. He suffered a horrible injury, which resulted in a metal plate being surgically planted in his head. For that he received a thousand dollars a month from the government for his injury. He was a man’s man and now the entire community knew the man my mother married better than she did. Imagine her surprise when she read that article and saw they were talking about her husband. She glowed. He’s so humble.
He wooed women, and even a few friends of my mother’s, into bed. He played his game anywhere anyone believed him, and sadly most did.
My mother was not a stupid woman by any means. She was smarter and more intuitive than most. But she got caught up in his web of deceit and married him after a whirlwind romance. It took her less than eight months to realize her Prince Charming was a fraud. It took her years to get him out of her life, but not before he left his mark on her.
Sperry arrested
He was arrested for writing bad checks and went to jail for a small period of time. She forgave him and accepted him back once released. It was all some horrible mistake. A second arrest for fraud and that was the end. She filed for divorce. He was then shot in his side for what he called a mugging. She took him back into her home and nursed him back to health. They were going to try again to make their marriage work. I don’t know what he ever said to her or how he convinced her he was a changed man, but he did and she accepted it.
Then, he was shot again. This time his mugging story didn’t ring true. He owed money to the wrong people. This was his second warning. She wanted him out of her life, but he couldn’t handle that. Yes, he had many women. Yes, he used them and left them. But no woman has ever left him until Joyce. That was unacceptable.
Sperry was a man who had no internal mechanism to feel emotion. Everyone was there for him to use for his own personal gain. He had no empathy or sense of guilt or remorse. He couldn’t take responsibility for anything he got caught up in — it was always someone else’s fault. He had a right to what he wanted, no matter how he obtained it. He had the right to live the good life off of anyone he could steal from. If you were stupid enough to trust him, then you deserved to lose it all. Stop crying about it. Screw you.
Seeking respectability
He was a genius with an IQ that was off the charts. I always thought there was a fine line between genius and insanity, and Sperry taught me there was. I’m not saying he was insane, no, he wasn’t. He was crafty and instinctually knew how to play on another’s weaknesses. He was a brilliant manipulator, which made him an exceptional conman. My mother was just one more step to getting what he wanted.
She was a young, beautiful widow with a small monthly government stipend for her children. She received a small life insurance policy benefit to help boost her meager savings account, and was a homeowner in a nice, neat neighborhood where families lived without fear in homes they never locked. My mother was the key to respectability Sperry craved and needed: A means to an end for him, nothing else.
He tried valiantly to get my mother to put his name on the deed of her house. He promised he would put her name on the deed to the sweet log cabin that he owned in Jay, New York, that sat on a riverbank. We used to fly there with him as our pilot and stay in his cabin and had wonderful family vacations. My mother sewed pretty curtains for the cabin and comforters for the beds. Together they had a wood sign made that read Shangri-La, which he hammered to the post at the front door. She considered putting him on the deed until learned he didn’t own the cabin; he leased it from an agent. Nor did he have a pilot’s license. No wonder the cabin things we left were always gone when we’d visit again. He said a burglary and not to worry, it happens. She now knew differently.
Buying cars
Before they separated, he took her car shopping and bought her the car she wanted with a bad check; her new car was repossessed right out of her driveway. My mother was utterly horrified and mortified at the same time, but he had no embarrassment over this. Obviously the bank made a mistake or the car dealer did, not him.
Later, after they separated, she bought her own car with her own money and knew it would never be taken from her again. Never taken, no. Damaged? Yes. It took a little while to learn that Sperry had paid someone to pour gallons of red paint all over her brand new white car sitting in her driveway. He came running to her rescue, swearing he’d find the punk who did this and protect her. He surrounded the driveway with electric wiring so anyone who passed through it would get the shock of their lives. But when that didn’t work to get him back into her house and into her life; the car was damaged again and again with gallons of red and black paint. Her insurance company dropped her, saying it was an inside job.