How Did Madoff Sleep at Night?

I was about nine years old yet I remember it as if it were yesterday.

My parents had a kosher grocery store in the heart of the business district in San Jose, Calif., where we lived. San Jose in those days didn’t have a lot of Jews who kept kosher, but just enough to keep the business going.

Down the block was a “five and dime store,” the precursor to Walgreens or CVS. Those of a certain age remember the ubiquitous “dime stores” that sold assorted sundries – items that grocery or department stores didn’t carry.

On many Sundays I would spend the afternoon at the store to kill time. Part of the routine was my dad would give me a coin to go to the dime store and buy a candy bar or a tchotchke (Yiddish for cheap piece of junk) to occupy myself until we went home. 

One Sunday I bypassed the candy and went to the toys instead. They sold for either a nickel, dime or quarter. My budget was a dime, which in those days was real money. 

I chose a toy and brought it to the counter. Behind the register was the store owner, an older gentleman who I had seen a million times and who never smiled. As I waited in line, I noticed that the owner mistakenly left a dime on the counter from the customer ahead of me. Immediately my criminal scheme took shape. When it was my turn to pay, if the owner saw the dime and assumed I had put it there, he would take it and I would walk out with a free toy. If he remembered it was his, I would just give him my dime and pay for the toy. The perfect crime.

It worked. He took the dime and I walked out with my free prize. I was proud of myself that I had gotten away with the crime of the century. I was so proud I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm and did something really stupid. 

I told my father.

Upon hearing the story my dad looked into my eyes with a stare I had never seen from him before. He immediately took off his butcher’s apron and tossed it on the counter. He then proceeded to lock up the store mid-day and marched me back to the dime store.

My father didn’t know the dime store owner personally. But they had a common bond. Both were hard-working storeowners just trying to make a living. My dad made me stand in front of his fellow merchant, confess what I did, apologize, and pay for the toy. The merchant didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment in his face. His look, with my dad at my side, was punishment enough that I never again entered his store and my life of crime ended then and there.

This childhood memory returned to me while watching the new Netflix docuseries “Madoff The Monster of Wall Street.” We all know the Madoff story so no spoiler alerts are needed. However, the reenactments of the actors and interviews with those who worked on Madoff’s secret 17th floor office where his crimes took place, makes the show a must see. 

When the Madoff scandal blew up everybody knew what a Ponzi scheme was, but Madoff was different. How could he perpetuate the crime of the century virtually single handedly and in plain sight? How could he keep the scam going for decades? Most intriguing, a good part of the show focuses on the fact that the SEC audited Madoff several times and found nothing irregular. This gave people peace of mind that he could be trusted, which should be a crime in and of itself.

At the time I was ashamed for what I did, but have grown grateful that I can sleep at night because my dad taught me right from wrong at an early age.

As I watched the program, I thought about that kid in the dime store. At the time I was ashamed for what I did, but have grown grateful that I can sleep at night because my dad taught me right from wrong at an early age.

Bernie Madoff died in prison in 2021 so we’ll never really know how he slept at night with the knowledge that his crimes were devastating the lives of so many people and institutions. And Netflix offers no explanations.

Something tells me he slept just fine.

Harvey Farr is a local community reporter for the Jewish Journal.