Catch Me If You Can
Frank Abagnale's reputation as the GOAT began in 1980, when he published his semi-autobiography
titled Catch Me If You Can.
The 253-page book detailed the devilish deeds Frank pulled in his younger years.
Steven Spielberg picked up a copy and immediately reached out to Abagnale's publishers.
He wanted to buy the film rights, seeing potential in Abagnale's story.
Most of that potential was in the sheer ingenuity of Frank's crimes.
He was barely old enough to drive when he learned he was pretty good at scamming people.
First Cons
Abagnale was 15 when he pulled his first con.
His father, Frank Abagnale Sr, gave him a gas card and a truck.
The card had a line of credit attached to it, and Frank spent $3,400.
Eventually, his father got a letter telling him he owed a four-figure sum to the credit
card company.
$3,400 was a lot of money back in the 1960s.
So, they sent him to a reform school to teach their son a lesson.
The school apparently "inspired" Abagnale to take his reformation to the next level.
He joined the Navy one year later.
Abagnale knew he didn't meet the enrollment age, so he forged some documents to say he
was 18.
The enlisting office accepted Abagnale into the Navy.
But that only lasted for three months.
After realizing the documents were fake, the Navy called the authorities, and, once again,
teenage Abagnale was in trouble.
However, he suffered no legal repercussions for forging his way into the Navy.
However, his next crime got a little out of hand.
Grand Theft Auto
After the Navy gave Frank the boot, Abagnale Sr got a call from the FBI, saying they'd
arrested his son in Eureka, California, for stealing a car.
Abagnale had stolen their neighbor's Ford Mustang and drove it across the country.
The Abagnale's, for perspective, lived in the Bronx.
It was a long joyride.
But one Abagnale planned out quite well.
Before leaving New York, Abagnale stopped by a local company called Bronx River Parkway,
where he swiped a whole booklet of blank checks.
Abagnale then used those checks to pay for his gas, food, lodgings, and any other expense
he had along the way to California.
Abagnale's time on the west coast was short-lived despite his impressive efforts.
The FBI found Abagnale driving the car, pulled him over, and questioned him.
When they were sure it was him, they arrested the young car thief and sent him back to New
York.
The charges filed in California were transferred over to New York.
Then, the local courts handed Abagnale over to his father.
Before they could charge Abagnale with car theft, he was already getting arrested again.
PanAM
Abagnale got the idea for his next scam after walking by a uniform shop and seeing a pilot
uniform display in the window.
He walked into the shop and convinced the clerk to sell him a PanAm pilot's uniform.
Typically, you have to prove your qualifications by showing an ID or pilot's license to buy
a pilot's uniform.
But Abagnale was so confident that the clerk never questioned him.
So, Abagnale walked out with a fresh uniform and headed for a small town outside of New
York City.
However, the authorities caught up with Abagnale after he tried cashing a bad check.
The New York City courts prosecuted Abagnale, sentencing the teenager to three years in
Great Meadow prison for auto theft and impersonating a pilot.
Baton Rouge
After two years behind bars, authorities decided to release Abagnale, hoping he'd changed.
Spoiler alert, he didn't.
Shortly after, Frank got arrested again outside of Boston for stealing somebody's car.
The judge sentenced Abagnale to another year in Great Meadow, forcing him to serve the
rest of his initial three-year sentence.
He finally got out in late 1968.
But, instead of getting a job and trying to better himself, Abagnale worked on perfecting
his pilot impersonation scheme.
The first improvement he made was changing locations.
The authorities in New York were too familiar with Abagnale.
They were watching him, waiting for Abagnale to pull something new.
So, the 20-year-old fraudster bought a TWA pilot's uniform and hitched a flight to Baton
Rouge, Louisiana.
On his way to Baton Rouge, Abagnale befriended a flight attendant who lived nearby.
Abagnale told her he didn't have a place to stay, so she offered him her parents' house
if they were willing.
Abagnale met her parents at their home in Baton Rouge.
He charmed the father, a local music teacher, into letting him stay there for a few weeks
until his next flight.
Two months later, on Valentine's Day, 1969, police slapped the cuffs on Frank once again.
They charged him with Vagrancy, which is just being homeless.
However, the police who arrested him dug around and found their young felon was much more
than just a vagrant.
They found, on his person, forged airline documents alongside two sets of stolen checks.
He swiped one set from a local business in Baton Rouge.
The other he snatched from the flight attendant's father.
The local authorities charged Abagnale with forgery and theft.
Since Abagnale couldn't make bail or hire an attorney, he was sentenced to twelve years
probation.
Instead of living under strict probationary rules, Abagnale chose to flee Louisiana.
But he didn't go back to New York or anywhere in the U.S, for that matter.
He hopped on a plane left for Sweden.
Sweden
Abagnale wreaked havoc in Sweden.
The globetrotting fraudster scammed two different families and stole someone's car, according
to legal records.
The Swedes tracked Abagnale down in France and deported him back to Sweden to answer
for his crimes.
Before the extradition, Abagnale spent three months in a French prison in 1970.
Abagnale was charged with forgery and sentenced to two months in a Swedish prison.
The court also commanded him to pay back the people he scammed.
A penniless Abagnale tried to appeal the judgment.
For those keeping track, Frank's been sentenced to jail in three different countries.
But instead of fighting Frank on the issue, the Swedes struck down his appeal and deported
Abagnale back to the United States.
He was America's problem once again.
Return to America
Abagnale cranked his scamming up a few notches when he returned to the U.S. He immediately
put his fake pilot's uniform back on.
After all, it was his favorite disguise.
Commercial airline pilots, unlike today, were rock stars in mid-20th century America.
Commercial flight was a relatively new industry back in the 60 and 70s.
And, behind astronauts, the pilots flying those planes were heroes playing a pivotal
role in operating a world-changing technology.
Abagnale sought to exploit the airline pilot's reverence in exchange for a quick profit.
He used the prestigious uniform to collect and cash pilot paychecks from Pan Am and TWA.
Now, Abagnale used the uniform to start a fake program for flight attendants.
In the 60s, single women in their late teens and early 20s dreamt of being flight attendants.
So, Abagnale put on his snazzy uniform, walked around college campuses, and tried recruiting
female students for PanAm.
Abagnale told the University he was searching for applicants to join his program, posing
as a doctor or student, depending on the situation.
Other than being an attractive young woman, there was one requirement all applicants needed:
to pass a physical examination.
The examinations were, of course, conducted by Abagnale.
Meanwhile, Abagnale was still trying to cash airline paychecks.
He cashed one big check in North Carolina that caught the attention of the FBI.
They tracked Abagnale down and arrested him.
He was only 22.
Abagnale was way past strike three.
So, the judge sentenced Abagnale to 12 years in prison.
However, he only served two.
This time, the courts assigned Abagnale a parole officer.
They hoped that perhaps having an officer to report to might help Abagnale turn a new
leaf.
It didn't.
Not at first anyway.
The federal courts chose Houston, Texas, as Abagnale's parole city.
For the first few months, he did what he was supposed to do.
He worked several jobs, like movie projectionist, cook, and grocery bag boy.
But he couldn't hold down a single one.
Every time he got a job going, his manager discovered his criminal past and fired him.
After all, would you want a guy like Frank working for you?
Abagnale missed the respect he got when wearing the pilot's uniform.
So, he suited up again.
Not to steal checks, though, but to get a job working at a children's summer camp.
Unfortunately, his fellow camp counselors caught him stealing their cameras, and Abagnale
was arrested again.
Though, he got away with a fine this time around.
Abagnale put his uniform on for one last hoorah.
This time, at an orphanage, of all places.
It would be the last recorded incident of Abagnale impersonating an airline pilot.
He was caught a few days later.
His parole officer was running out of patience.
The only way to keep an eye on Frank was if they lived together.
So, Frank's parole officer cleared out some space above his garage, and Frank moved in.
Nevertheless, Abagnale found other, more subtle ways to scam for money.
He got a job at a healthcare company called Aetna, which would be his last formal "job."
After only a few months, the company fired and sued Abagnale for check fraud.
Abagnale left the job without much hope left.
He needed to find a way to make money with an abnormally extensive criminal record.
Then, according to Abagnale, an idea popped into his head.
The Expert
In 1975, Abagnale walked into a bank and offered its top staff a deal: he would offer them
advice on catching check forgeries.
If they didn't find anything Abagnale said helpful, they owed him nothing, and he'd be
on his merry way.
But if they found his tips applicable, they owed him $50 and had to refer Abagnale's name
to any other banks they knew.
They took the deal, watching as Abagnale put on a masterclass in check fraud.
It was probably the quickest $50 he ever made.
Abagnale capitalized on this small success by offering his consultation services to other
banks.
His reputation grew, and, before he knew it, Abagnale was considered one of the top experts
in fraud protection.
A year later, in 1976, the former felon founded Abagnale and Associates, a consultancy firm
that helps companies avoid fraudulent documents to this day.
Abagnale's last known check forgery was in 1978.
Since then, Abagnale has led an honest life.
He's married, has children, and lives a quiet life in Charleston, South Carolina.
The Truth
The depiction you just watched is the factual life of Frank Abagnale Jr., but that's not
the story most people are familiar with, especially for those who've seen the movie.
After Abagnale started his career as a security consultant, speaker, and author, he began
making some unfounded claims about his life.
For example, Abagnale claimed he passed the bar exam and served as an assistant attorney
general in Louisiana.
He's even provided details on what it was like playing an attorney.
He once said that trying to argue and convince people was easy.
Being attorney general was the most effortless con performance he ever pulled.
As if "attorney" wasn't a good enough title, Abagnale impersonated a pediatrician as well.
He described, in great detail, how he would make his rounds through the office, scribbling
on clipboards, talking with patients, and performing other pediatric duties.
Abagnale also impersonated a different kind of doctor: a sociology professor at Brigham
Young University, despite being younger than most of his students.
Abagnale only ever cashed around $1,500 in forged checks.
However, he claims the total was over $2 million, despite the complete lack of evidence.
And last, but certainly not least, are Abagnale's FBI claims.
The most famous one is related to his post-crime life.
Abagnale has repeatedly stated that he worked for the FBI after his release in 1974.
However, the FBI has never confirmed these claims.
He has also claimed that the FBI chased him throughout the 60s and 70s.
He mentions how he outsmarted them on several occasions.
One time, he even escaped through an airplane bathroom toilet.
The problem with that claim, and others, is that there is no evidence to corroborate them.
There's no record of Abagnale joining the FBI, passing the Louisiana bar exam, teaching
at BYU, forging $2 million worth of checks, or impersonating a doctor.
In fact, many of these claims have proven to be outright lies.
For example, Abagnale claims to have worked an overnight shift as a pediatrician.
However, the hospital where he worked has no record of Abagnale ever being there.
They also never had a midnight to eight shift.
Abagnale responded to these unverified claims in a statement published by his firm's website.
He wrote that the reporter who ghost-wrote his book only interviewed him four times and
liked to "dramatize" the stories Abagnale told him.
Legacy Nevertheless, Abagnale still stands by most
of the life events in his bestselling book and the film adaptation.
Since he marketed both as an autobiography, many people believe it.
Journalists have been trying to disprove Abagnale's claims since the 70s when the fraudster was
conducting regular speaking engagements.
However, their voices weren't as loud as DiCaprio and Abagnale's.
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