The New York attorney general, Andrew M. Cuomo, said on Thursday that A.I.G. had handed over a list with the names of the bonus recipients. But he did not release the list. “We are aware of the security concerns of A.I.G. employees,” Mr. Cuomo said in a statement, “and we will be sensitive to those issues by doing a risk assessment before releasing any individual’s name.”
It was unclear exactly what measures the officials at A.I.G. have taken in the name of protecting the company’s executives. Officials at several police departments in Connecticut towns where A.I.G. executives live said they did not know about possible threats against the bonus recipients. “We haven’t heard of it,” said Sgt. Carol Ogrinc of the New Canaan police. “There have been no complaints made to our department.”
But several security companies in New York credited the financial crisis with a noticeable increase in some areas of their business, from protecting executives to dispatching bomb-sniffing dogs to check for trouble. “There is certainly anger among people about the economy and fear among corporate executives themselves,” said Patrick Timlin, the president of Michael Stapleton Associates, which provides bomb-dog teams.
And there is concern in places like Wilton that the scandal is tarring their town. “They’re blaming us,” said Konstantinos Papanikolaou, a manager at Orem’s Diner in Wilton, about a mile from the A.I.G. office.
Jay Fiedler of Trumbull, Conn., said his town was also a “victim,” initially of a brutal economic downturn that had been fueled by problems at companies like A.I.G., and then of the outrage that has coalesced around the bonuses that A.I.G. paid.
“It just so happened that it happened here,” Mr. Fiedler said. “The community is the victim of the fact that it takes place here.”
Others in A.I.G.’s neighborhood were clearly angry. Tamara King, an immigration specialist at a health care company whose office is adjacent to the A.I.G. quarters, said she feels disgust each time she walks past it.
"You don’t want to associate with them because it’s not a reflection on the state, it’s not a reflection on us," she said. But she added, “You have so many people out of a job, and these people think they can take the money and run."
The largest single bonus check, for $6.4 million, went to Douglas L. Poling, an executive vice president for energy and infrastructure investments. Mark Herr, an A.I.G. spokesman, said Mr. Poling had told him he was returning the bonus “because he thought it was the correct thing to do.”
Gerry Pasciucco, a former vice chairman of Morgan Stanley who was brought in by Mr. Liddy in November to wind down the financial products unit, said Mr. Poling had sold off roughly 80 percent of the unit’s assets. Mr. Pasciucco said the money from the sales would go to the government, which has handed more than $170 billion in bailout money to A.I.G. in the last six months.
“He’s done an outstanding job in winding down his investment books,” Mr. Pasciucco said. "He did it at the right time, and we’ve made money. We would be losing money today if we waited to sell some of these assets."
Mr. Poling’s father, Harold A. Poling, retired as the chief executive of Ford Motor Company in 1994. On Thursday, Cheryle Campbell answered the phone at Harold Poling’s house in Bloomfield, Mich., where she said she had worked as a housekeeper for 20 years. She said she was not surprised to hear that Douglas Poling had decided to give back his bonus. “You’d think, being in the kind of job he is, that he’d be one of those sharks,” she said. “But he’s not at all.”
Douglas Poling has lived in the same house on a dead-end street in Fairfield for 11 years. The local papers say that he and his wife have given generously to a homeless shelter, to the Westport Country Playhouse and the Fairfield Country Day School, a boys’ prep school where tuition runs as high as $29,300 a year.
But on Thursday, his house, like Mr. Haas’s, was being watched by private security guards.