Voyeur Page #3

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He then locked the door behind me.

You could see light coming up

from certain spots.

You're hearing televisions.

Voices.

He leaned over in one spot

where there was light...

and he pointed down,

and we looked upon a very good-looking

couple engaged in oral sex.

He made a kind of sign like that.

I leaned closer and closer,

watching intently.

And then I felt a man's hand on my neck.

It was the voyeur

who crawled around and pulled me up...

very quietly but firmly.

I looked at him.

And that damn tie of mine,

my red silk tie,

was only a couple of feet

from the head of the woman

giving a blow job to this guy on his bed.

Jesus!

He said, "You have to be careful

with that tie."

I would never write about him

unless I could use his name.

There's no point, as a nonfiction writer,

in writing about personal life

unless you use real names.

Otherwise, write fiction.

So, he wasn't buying this,

but he was continuing

to cooperate with me.

And this continued for more than 30 years.

Let me see what I can find here.

Letters. Look at this.

I have copies of every letter.

The problem in journalism,

it takes place in too short a period.

Reporters go and talk to somebody today,

and they never see them again.

Interview, in and out.

I don't do that. I like to keep in touch,

because there are chances,

maybe two or three decades later,

where you can go back

and see these people,

and you can find out

what happened after you left off.

I called up this guy and I said,

"I think you're about ready to do it."

He says, "I sold my motel in 1997."

The statute of limitations

probably allows me...

And most of those people

are dead anyway or...

"And I, at 78..."

I said, "I'm 80,

so if you're gonna do it, do it fast",

'cause neither of us will be

around much longer."

My story about the voyeur, Gerald Foos,

is gonna be excerpted in the New Yorker,

followed by a book publisher,

Grove Atlantic of New York,

is gonna publish a book.

Hi, there.

Susan Morrison, you're so famous,

except with the guys downstairs.

Those guys at the reception desk

never heard of the New Yorker.

His name is Foos, Gerald Foos. F-O-O-S.

He was never caught.

- You met him after Thy Neighbor's Wife?

- After I had finished it.

It was in the papers.

I had a lot of publicity.

He happened to read something

in the Denver Post.

He's still very willing and interested...

Yeah, I have him down.

I just cannot get...

I don't wanna do anything else

till I finish this, because...

I don't want him to die, number one.

- How old is he?

- 78.

Of course, I'm 81,

so I should worry about my...

One of us is gonna die soon,

so I wanna get this done first.

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