Click David Berkowitz to enlarge
On August 10, 1977, an utterly deranged 24-year-old postal employee (note: he was also
one of the first postal employees to go "postal"), David Berkowitz was arrested and charged with being the "44 caliber killer" a/k/a "Son of Sam." Son of Sam was a serial killer who terrorized New York City for more than a year, killing six young people and wounding seven others with a .44-caliber revolver, all allegedly on the orders of a barking dog next door that Berkowitz claimed was channeling a neighbor named Sam. Berkowitz targeted attractive young women with long brown hair, and therefore, "hundreds of young women had their hair cut short and dyed blond during the time he terrorized the city. " At least according to one article I read. I don't remember anyone doing this, but I remember people on the news talking about it. 
The police sketch and a photograph
The Son of Sam name came from his first letter, left in one of the victim's cars. It was addressed to police captain Joe Borelli, who headed up Task Force Omega, a group of a large number of detectives searching for the "44 caliber killer." The letter said:
"I am deeply hurt by your calling me a weman-hater. I am not. But I am a monster. I am the "son of Sam". I am a little brat. When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats our family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood. "Go out and kills" commands father Sam. Behind our house some rest. Mostly young - raped and slaughtered - their blood drained - just bones now. Pap Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can't get out but I look out the attick window and watch the world go by. I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wavelength then everybody else - programmed to kill. However, to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: shoot me first - shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die. Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has too many heart attacks. "Ugh, me hoot, it hurts, sonny boy." I miss my pretty princess most of all. She's resting in our ladies house. But i'll see her soon. I am the "monster" - "Beelzebub" - the chubby behemouth. I love to hunt. Prowlling the streets looking for fair game - tasty meat. The wemon of Queens are prettyist of all. I must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt - my life. Blood for papa. Mr. Borelli, sir, I don't want to kill any more. No sur, no more but I must, "honour thy father". I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don't belong on earth. Return me to yahoos. To the people of Queens, I love you. And i want to wish all of you a happy Easter. May God bless you in this life and in the next. And for now I say goodbye and goodnight. Police: Let me haunt you with these words: I'll be back. I'll be back. To be interrpreted as - bang, bang, bang, bang - ugh. Yours in murder, Mr. Monster. "
I remember the New York Post and Daily News almost taunting him with their headlines as the anniversary of the first killings approached (the anniversary was June 29, 1977). I arrived in town in early June. He struck on June 26, but Sal Lupo and Judy Placido both survived, relatively unscathed. On July 30, he killed Stacy Moskowitz, and blinded Robert Violante.
He wrote a letter to Jimmy Breslin, the great NYC columnist (and author of the delightful novel The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight):
"Hello from the gutters of N.Y.C. which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine and blood. Hello from the sewers of N.Y.C. which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks. Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of N.Y.C. and from the ants that dwell in these cracks and feed in the dried blood of the dead that has settled into the cracks..."
The writer noted that he was a fan of Breslin: "J.B., I also want to tell you that I read your column daily and find it quite informative."
The writer added, "What will you have for July 29?" (the anniversary of the first .44 Caliber shooting).
I had been in the city for a few months when he was arrested, a month after the famous blackout and riots. I happened to also be in love with an attractive young woman with long brown hair. We never "necked" in parked cars, so we were relatively safe. However, we did live and hang out in Brooklyn, one of his targets. And when he was caught, he was taken to the Brooklyn House of Detention--right across the street from our apartment!
Court TV's Crime Library has a long article about Berkowitz/Sam, and, the Wikipedia has a good article as well. . .
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