BUETTNER-JANUSCH'S STORY contains many Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde elements. His behavior changed drastically according to whom he was with, swinging unexpectedly from charming to spiteful and back again.
According to a professor who asked not to be identified, "He was nice to people who were useful to him, but if in any way he thought you were unworthy, he would take action against you. He humiliated colleagues in public."
Ian Tattersall, curator of New York's Museum of Natural History and a longtime friend, knew a different person. "I found him to be a warm, loyal, and kind person, always very supportive and solicitous."
But, he acknowledges, "Some people he liked and found easy to get along with. Those people he supported to the hilt. But there were clearly two distinct poles to the man. If he didn't like you he could be abrasive and nasty."
Some of those who were victims of his nastier side do not see the alleged attempted poisoning of Judge Brieant as a move out of character for Buettner-Janusch. Rather, they point to this latest act as proof positive of his dangerous eccentricity and vindication of their own suspicions. If Buettner-Janusch had a talent for impressing certain people, he also, apparently, had a flair for making enemies.
University of Delaware Professor Charles Leslie says he left NYU because he found the situation to be intolerable. "I had known him at Chicago, and I thought that even though he was difficult it would be all right. However, it soon became obvious that he was out to hatchet me."
"At Chicago, Buettner-Janusch was one of the most colorful people on campus. He was a dramatic character, one who stood out in a crowd. He thought of himself as a celebrity--powerful, elegant, witty. But he was so flamboyant, and so egotistical, that it seemed at once a tip off to some hidden flaw," Leslie says.
According to Leslie, Buettner-Janusch fired assistant professors without cause, bragged about his wealth and, in general, dominated the department with his autocratic attitude.
"One time I complimented him on his silk tie and he said, 'Oh yes, I bought it in Paris on sale for $200,'" Leslie recalls. "Another time he came in to my office and decided to take my table and my typewriter for his own use. He didn't need them, that was done purely as a bullying thing."
"It was hard for anybody he took a dislike to. He would fly off the handle at students and victimize certain people, withholding their pay raises and exploiting their weaknesses," remembers Jolly, who conducted the undercover investigation into Buettner-Janusch's activities that eventually led to the discovery of the illegal drug manufacturing.
"Working with him on an equal footing was almost impossible. He would arbitrarily change his mind just for the sake of establishing dominance, and he tended to bully others," Jolly says. "Still, if the drug charge hadn't come up, he probably would have stayed. He would have stayed, and everyone else would have left."
Leslie, who accepted an offer from the University of Delaware in order to get away from Buettner-Janusch, says, 'I hated him. I fantasized about shooting him. It became so completely unbearable that I had to leave."
Last year, Leslie recieved a box of Golden Godiva chocolates. The sender was not identified and, because of an address mix-up, the chocolates were spoiled by the time the professor and his wife received them. This year, the Leslies were again sent a mysterious Valentines gift of candy, and the FBI analysis concluded that these chocolates contained the same poison as those sent to the judge. Reportedly, people at Duke and Yale received similar packages.
An aspect of the poisoning affair that amazes people is that one of Buettner-Janusch's fingerprints was on the box of candy sent to the judge. Whatever else Buettner-Janusch may or may not have been capable of, leaving an incriminating print seems an act of carelessness out of keeping with his meticulous personality. Some friends have suggested that the former professor, disillusioned by his attempts to reintegrate himself into academia, became so despondent that he wanted to return to jail.
Others are especially surprised by this act of vengeance because Buettner-Janusch had seemed fairly content since leaving jail. He planned to get back into academic life and mentioned his hopes for new research projects. The big talk, however, served only to cover his disappointments.
"Two weeks before it happened, I ran into BJ in a supermarket and he said he was getting a big research grant and that he was getting along wonderfully. I don't know who would give him a grant, but he seemed composed and happy," says Cantor.
Tattersall says, "He came out of prison much less abrasive, a much nicer man than when he went in. He appeared at peace with himself."
Buettner-Janusch had been staying in the Tattersalls' Greenwich Village apartment, looking after their dog while the couple was away when, police say, he allegedly prepared the poisoned candy. Furthermore, chocolates were also sent to friends of the Tattersalls. Tattersall says that he feels betrayed. "He has not endeared his latter self to us," comments the museum curator.
The consensus of Buettner-Janusch's former mentors is that attempted murder is the act of someone very different from the man they knew and admired. "He must have just lost his wits. It was not a clever thing to do, and he was a clever man," says Thiene. "It has a certain flamboyance, however, that is typical of him."