Connecticut, D, F-K, 1854-1991, Undated

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ager RAK AF Py MASP PEI ea

PE Sr gE Ee

- de47 i
go LODEOE LEG, Mag Sts

on Apnil 6, 1Yi/,
tenced to 15 years at State Prison in
Weathersfield. America awoke the next
day to find she was at war withGermany.

Only Frank remained to be ap-
prehended. At the Napoli Hotel police
learned that Frank had a bust of a woman
tattoed on his right arm. She was wearing
a sailor's hat. The left arm was.decorated
with a heart featuring a stiletto on the
bottom. This information was included in
wanted posters sent worldwide.

Deskin learned from Louis Lanzillo
that Louis once went to Brooklyn to lo-
cate Frank, who was working as a
longshoreman and lived on Hicks Street.
With Loomis and Urbano, and accom-
panied by Lewis, Deskin visited sections
known to be frequented by Frank. The
search was unsuccessful.

- Gianelli remembered that among the
articles left at the hotel -by Frank was a

; poapeon filled by the pyecray rss

- Waterbury, Connecticut
Vv igiting the ate he was shown the orig-
inal prescription. It was issued to a
Dominick Macello.

Checking through the records of the
prescribing physician, Gianelli visited the
home address of the patient. Discreet in-
quiries indicated this was the elusive
‘*Frank.’’ Frank had come to this address
for a few days following the murder, re-
mained for several weeks, and then left

for Marcus Hook, Pennsylvania where,

he told friends, he prot to eS fora
chemical company.

The detective followed: the trail to
Marcus Hook and Teamed ‘the fugitive
secured employment with the General
Chemical Company ‘under the name of

Dominick Macello. In August, 1917, he

enlisted under that name with the Sixth ©
Regiment, Company F,‘camped at Ches- ©

ter. On September 10, the day before the _

regiment left foran miiaeuae eae

An cariyaiay note. of Chapel Street in New Haven anere! Morris ‘Goldstein

_maintained his tailor’s shop until he was murdered in’a practice run. -

4
j

—man was sitting.

‘too marks. ‘
‘‘Any proof that’s your real name?" ‘

~ ment.’
_ prisoner reached in his pocket and d

out. The card appeared in good orc er,

: Saecticut: ’? the officer observed. |

' other men. They were witnesse

one man he did not.introduce.

: reply:
ss ‘troduced man broke in ‘‘I am Petei

eet 4 ny
me “Inever saw you before,”? thepns

ihe ihe Mah oO

man) )
alisuen seemed to “ae distnpenvan from
the face of the earth for the next three
months.

On December 4, the Sixth rene De-
tective Bureau of the New York Police

Department at Brooklyn learned from an

informer that a man named Frank Dusso
they arrested the day before in connec."

‘tion with some trouble over a woman ijn

Philadelphia might be wanted for the i
* West Haven murder. eae

Detective Bernard Grottano noted this
information with keen interest. While
most leads received in this fashion were
fruitless, this seemed to ring true
‘Where is this man?’’ Grottano asked,

*‘He’s sitting in the office right at th; ad

minute. He’s the one in the end chair.”

» “What is your name?’* he asked
- The prisoner replied that he had
Be rresicd as Frank Dusso, then added in L
expectedly that his real name was Pe
~ Manganaro. The detective pulled up the
‘man’s coat sleeves and stared at es

‘*Best in the world,’’ came the |
sponse. “The United Srates soy

-**How’s that?”’ 3
X. «My draft card,*’ came the ‘replys |

-“*So you come from Waterbury;

“That's right.”” ne

holding a man here at the detecti
bureau in Brooklyn who says he’s Pe
Manganaro of Waterbury, Connectic
He has a draft card to prove this butla
noticed he has tattoo marks on his arn
which correspond with those of a kill
mentioned in a wanted poster sent
more than a year ago. This was in conn
tion with a victim named Goldstein. A

5.
a
'

**You betIl am,’’ the New Haver de
tive replied. **Hold him. I’m on my wa}

tective bureau that evening with sev

ee
“

_could identify the fugitive, but ther

» When he was confronted with the p
-oner, Gianeli asked the man who he

“**Oh,-no, you’ re: not; he “the

ganaro ‘and I was vou friend in
OLY, Pee ae ne

#1 can prove who Lam: Here
y-draft card: a UE itera ‘2
My draft card, you ‘mean, Dy

from me when I came to visit you
» months ago. I’ve been in hot water
since.””
ater, in a lineup, the other New
.aven Witnesses picked out Dusso as the
ype-sought ‘‘Frank.’’ He waived extra-
tion and was returned to New Haven
: vhere other witnesses identified him.
_prank Dusso went on trial in New
je en on Wednesday, Jan. 16, 1918, be-
e Superior Court Judge William L.
# sanett: His former colleagues testified
| ygainst him and he was s found guilty. All

é relused and Dusso, Carl
Lanzillo, and Pisanielli ascended the gal-
lows.
Thus the first graduates of the Hotel
Napoli School for Crime, together with

Wei’

their ‘‘professor,’’ paid for the brutal

slaying of.the defenseless Morris Gold-

stein. There will be no bands, beer par-

ties, no happy alumni reunions in New

Haven this year from the School forCrime.
The Hotel Napoli is hardly even a mem-

ory today. But Morris Goldstein’ Ss Seam,

has been avenged.

® jow trivial it might appear to the one pos-
sessing it— should be called in or brought
"4 to his office. He pointed out that when
waluated by the authorities, it could
rove to be of real value to them.
Meanwhile, Detective Bates had ob-

girlfriends Anna associated with. Most of
them were classmates in Lincoln High
© School. He talked to them, hoping to gain
"some information mat would aid i in locat-

“ing her. '

} concerned about Anna’s sudden disap-
“pearance and couldn’t account. for. it. -
Most of them had the same impression °
> tier family had, that she had been forced
= into someone’s car.and had been driven:
away. They knew of no one among their
friends capable of doing a thing like that.
Moreover, the girls all agreed that Anna
was a likeable personality and, to their
knowledge, had no enemies.
-A couple: of the girls were close-
mouthed when the matter of Anna’s dis-
‘appearance was mentioned. They didn’t
+ @ *are to talk about it. Finally, one of her
7% fnends suggested that perhaps Anna had
fun away from home and was staying with
‘friend, Bates pricked up his ears.
* ‘What makes oe ony that?’” he in-
quired.
“Well, lots of sirie inter home without
telling their parents,”” she said. ‘‘You
‘Snow how it is. Their folks are too strict
40d want to run their lives. Most every

fl talks or at least thinks about it.’”’
WAnd you think Anna felt this way and

Cae her folks ‘were too strict
her?’2« Soke teers

She. ah ogee hare shoulders
DWs?’’:she said. **Could be.”

‘Who 2

d a number of the girls he had origi-'

“Swear | Didn’t Rape You!" ei

: re a, from page 47)

“ined a list of names and addresses of the -

They could give Bates very little heip: :
ever. They; too, were worried and.

. Lafler,

whatsoever. They found no one who had — 5
“seen Anna on the sieht of Be Bee, records. S

tracing: his steps; Bates. Again con- |

al talked to and questioned them along :
¢ eae rebel ceced hia time

several of them Ms aeLies 3 ben more, wiles

ling to talk... eee
“Lots of kids want: to teaver homes
suggested one of the girls, “and I think «
maybe Anna did too.”’
“Did she ever mention that to you?”
asked Bates. ae
lat she never said Anything about
* admitted the girl, ‘‘but I’m sure she —
ee have thought about i it, tied cows ine
way she was.”? =< .:

posed the question to the parents, sug-—
gesting Anna may have left home on her
own as some of her friends had.mentioned ©
and that she was possibly staying at hess
home of some friend.’ ,

The Laflers looked surprised and be
wildered. ‘‘I just can’t believe anything
like this could have happened,’’ said Mrs. -
Lafler. ‘‘She’s never talked about leaving
home. She was perfectly contented her
with her baby and everything.It’s — it’s
unthinkable. Anna would never leave
Julie. Her entire life was wrapped up in
her little daughter.”’

“Not only that,”’ interjected Mea
‘Scan you imagine-her cava
home the way she was — barefoot, dres-
sed only ina halter top and a pair of shorts -

their barns and outbuildings, brush piles,
drainage ditches and culverts.

‘Towards evening, a man by the name
of Jim Bradshaw walked into the police
station and talked to one of the patrol-
men. He mentioned that he had heard.a
woman’s scream shortly after ten Wed-
nesday night, followed by the sound ofa
car speeding away. He said he had gone
to the front window in time to see it dis-
appear on Lincoln Street. He couldn't

‘identify the make of the car, nor could he ©

see the license number. It had all hap-

pened in so short a time that it was impos- -
sible for hith to distinguish anything. Be-

gsuies; it was dark.
+ '**Why didn’t you get in touch with us
- before?” questioned the officer.

ah, * “7 thought of it, but felt that probably it
~. +» was only alovers’ quarrel or somethingof
Mater Ais that nature. When I heard that Miss
aint: Lafler had disappeared, I sort of figured —

; gees. that she was the girl who screamed” and”
. -* that she would be back at-anytime.*
»4This latest information seemed to indi- - ©
2 "> cate that the young girl had been, possibly ~
_# at knife or gunpoint, forced into.acar. She

had screamed, according to Bradshaw,
only once, and then the car had driven

away, 9 * ;

Discussing this latest development: 22
amongst themselves,-the lawmen were-_
* now faced with a situation in which they”

“would be looking for Anna Lafler’s as-

gifts ~ Sailant under almost impossible circum." ee
Returning to the Lafler hence Hates @ >

_Stances. They had no description of the

_ supposed abductor, knew nothing about - “

_ the kind of car he was driving and hadn’ te
. the slightest inkling as to who he could be.

“‘I’m wondering,”’ suggested one of the “
officers, ‘‘ifit was someone she knew. He >
could have been waiting for her to come’

home and then forcedher into his car.’’* |

*“Could be,’ agreed one of the lawmen. -
“But if that was the case, why the

-scream, that is, if she knew who he was.”

‘‘What about the L & H bar. The girls.

“said they were in the parking lot and there
pets a number of cars parked there??? .

““We’ve been too occupied with the -

- search ‘to give much thought to looking.
- for someone suspected of abducting her.
We can begin by questioning the barten-
. der. He should know the names of the

-~ no other clothes, shoes, or money. . customers who were there last Wednes-" ‘

How far could.she go, or where? No, Mr. =

Bates, ‘Anna didn’t leave home because

day night,”’ Bates said... > Bi

_ When Bates. talked to, the bartender ~

she wanted to — she was forced to ieave ~ that night; the man mentioned the names |

by someone, most likely in a car.’”’

All day Thursday and farinto the night.)
the search continued. Prowl cars and .
lawmen moved further and further. from
the Lafler home, questioning’ the inhabit-
ants, trying‘ to pick up, any ‘information:

tek

‘began searching various ohhees within the:

he could. ‘remember. Some. customers ~
. were able to give him the names of others
_- who had frequented the place. Armed
“with this information and addresses, he’

Two: men’ among those mentioned had ~
lim Rodgers, who had been ar- -

_ rested onan ‘attempted rape charge, had ne

and Le tos

ae a | aia

ety

to see ifany of them had a police record. |. © 3

Ce ee ae ted

TELEPHONE

427 omen sone se

Filial

_. MORRIS GOLDSTEIN
MERCHANT TAILOR : e

SUITS MADE TO. ORDER
PERFECT FIT GUARANTEED

AT REASONABLE PRICES

how HAVEN, CONN,

_derstand,” the detective began. “‘A half,

@:: ago you told us your companions

aid they were going to show you how to

» do the holdup game. What did. you mean

~ by that?” -

- + When there was no reply, Lt. tioane

advised the man to talk, saying that

Pisanielli had already told the officials

“much. ‘‘He told us a lot about your
brother, Louis, also.”

- Lanzillo flamed with anger. “He told

you that? Then I’Il tell you what I know.

A -. Frank said he would teach us how to be-
<-.. come big” shot crooks and ae easy
_ és», Money.’

a = &. ‘*Why did Fon want to do that?”’

. “He was brought up from New York
City to teach us.” .
‘‘You mean there’s a school for crime

® be surprised. ~ a

st That’ s¢ right, oy Tanville mimes
=, shouted;. “enjoying: the officials’ look of.
disbelief. ‘ “You go to school to learn how ~
; we went to school to~

cite

“There aw several things I don’ Fein

~ In New Havent ae was Deskin’ s tumto. —

_ thorities at the breakfast table.

‘and on our final essen —_ learning how to -
be good oaths men when this hap-

- pened.”

‘*Where did you attend this school for
‘criminals? Yor ,

“Down at the Hotel Napoli at 231-233.
Water Street.”’

‘*And this holdup was simply Batt of
your courses?’’ Deskin asked. He ue
hardly believe his ears.

‘‘Sure. Frank wanted to be sure we.

knew how to do the job right before we
went after the big money. After this, he
was going to teach us ‘black hand’ lan-
‘ guage. So we looked around for some guy
to try it on and someone said, “Why not
“take that guy? He’s an Austrian refugee
and Italy is at war with Austria.” Besides

that gold watch and chain, he always Soe

ried a lot of money.’ ;
‘Who started this school, He: ’ Deskin
Ewanted to know.

“Carmelo Battiata. He's the sig who.
-yuns the hotel. He got Frank; said he was

‘his son and he called him ‘his little gang-

_ster,’ He said he would get hun to teach ~

SErank’s Ss name must be Battiata: too.”
oul eon t know,’

A aa: of the man eee emerge

"Mortis Goldstein’ s business card was found on Louis Lanzillo when he was apprehended by au-

-e pearl-handled weapon had been uséd bj

the priscnc re :

na feta you when he’s mad.” ore

“was wearing a dark suit, standing collar,

eo ool scald anihad a thin face wi
a small mouth and protruding eyes. Wher
Lanzillo last saw him in Derby, Fran

dark tie, brown sweater, rolled up pants
black and white checkered cap, and t;
shoes. .

Pisanielli Sdantied he owned the
.44-caliber revolver and added that t

Frank. Later, another revolver wi
cracked grips was found beneath the tre

tle by Manion and Urbano. It was later

identified as belonging to Carl Lanzill

Coroner Eli Mix continued the que
- tioning of the prisoners in his New Haven
office as Chief Loomis, Lieutenant Ur
bano, and Detective Deskin hurried
through the early morning dusk to 23 Cok
lis Street where Louis Lanzillo lived. It
was now about 6:30.a.m. They found s¢
eral men-in the kitchen’ just fuss
breakfast. . .

3 “‘Louis,”’ Deskin. ordered, aL Wi
“see you.’

A youth in his carly twenties rose fro
the table and followed Deskin into the hal
where the officral asked Louis about
_ brother, Carl. Pees
“‘T haven't seen. him since. w > ret
_ from work last. evening.”
“And where were you last e
‘Louis’ Lanzillo replied he ha “Call
f the pear

ano
Lot
quic
Des
Gol

LIT,
.gother card dropped to the floor and
Louis tried to hide it. Loomis was
uicker. He picked it up and handed it to
peskin, who saw it was Morris
soldstein’s business card.

+‘Where did you get this?” ,

Louis was flustered, but had a ready
answer. “I'm having a suit of clothes
made there,’’ he responded, producing a

he Same

-»jncidentally, I just saw, by the, papers’
shat my brother was arrested. Can you
yell me what the trouble is?” > = |
For reply, Deskin placed the man
ynder arrest and the three officers took
“him down to police headquarters. The.

accompanied by Detectives Stanley

prce. The men walked in unannounced

etor who quickly denied
Fof any son called *‘Frank,”? ~~
“The detectives then questioned guests:
jn the upper rooms. One of them said that
man answering Frank’s description had —
_peen sharing a downstairs room with Carl

' Lanzillo. Inspection of the room indi-,
‘cated a hurried departure. : 3. «
Deskin ordered the contents; including
¢lothing and other items, confiscated, In
trunk, Lawlor found Army uniforms
bearing Pisanielli’s name. Wrapped up in
ie uniform coat-he located a loaded
§-caliber revolver. In a rear. room; on

p of adumb waiter, Urbano found a box

signed receipt from the murdered man. ~

y then hurried on to the Hotel Napoli, _

Gianelli, Harry Tuttle, James P, Currier ~Gianelli observed as
"and Edward F. Lawlor of the New Haven . moved the lead from the soft wood of the.

ets. The detectives worked together
the dark-skinned;. wavy-haired> pro- to recover all the bullets they could; then
all knowledge -.. Deskin placed Battiata under arrest, leav-
_\ © 1 ing Officer James O’ Brien in charge of the
mnotel ees s
’ Several witnesses from the Blohm

Ol .s8 Ca ( eVveral sharp
knives. A large framed Madonna over the
office desk yielded more weapons. But
the most startling discovery was to come.
Gianelli and Tuttle went down to the
cellar and were shortly joined by Lawlor
"and Currier. As Tuttle passed the furnace

* he noted the massive stone cellar walls

passing beneath thé street.

-““Wow,”’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Take a look .

at this.”’ Tuttle indicated several wooden
forms shaped like human figures, huddled
against the lead-splattered walls. They
were bullet-ridden targets. At the further
end of the cellar the detectives came ac-
ross a heap of empty shells which Currier
gathered. .
-**This proves that there was something
‘to ‘that ‘crime school’ story, after all,”
he carefully re-

Street area, brought to the coroner’s of-
-fice, identified Pisanielli as the man with
‘the twisted neck. John F. Driscoll, the

‘insurance agent, stated this was the man
-who crossed the street and stared silently»
at him before continuing to the car stop.

“William H. Moulter, the street car con-

“ductor, identified him as one of the trio _

-who had handed him the slip of paper on
which was written ‘‘Blohm Street.”’ The
barber, James H. Johnston, identified

y Pik it

Frank Dusso came to New Haven.as “professor” of first crime school. He flunked his own course.

“zillo was sentenced to life. ~ .

Pisanielli and Cari Lanzillo as the men
who loitered near his shop Saturday and
Monday nights. More incriminating evi-
dence was to come.

Amos Dickerman, an expert with the
Winchester Repeating Arms Company,
said the death bullets came from the two
guns owned by Pisanielli and the man ~
known to the authorities as ‘‘Frank.”’
The expert also established that some of
‘the bullets found in the Hotel Napoli
basement.came from these two guns.

Thus a careless murder had thwarted a
plot to set up a New England crime
school, But the man considered the most
dangerous member of the. gang had es-—
caped. © pati

Louis’ and’ Carl Lanzillo,’-with —
Pisanielli, went on trial February 12, ak
1917, before Judge William S. Casein the
New Haven County Superior Court, Carl
Lanzillo and Pisanielli were charged with ~
first-degree murder; Louis Lanzillo with
second-degree murder. Pisanielli, it was a
learned, was recently discharged from =
the Army after serving in Mexico. :

State’s Attorney Amon A. Alling and
Assistant State’s Attorney Walter M.
Picket appeared for the state. Cari Lan-
zillo was represented by R.‘lerardi, Louis
by Samuel E. Hoyt, and Pisanielli by | ae
Kenneth Wayne. All three were found ge
guilty. Carl Lanzillo and Pisanielli were: Ries

sentenced to be hanged and Louis Lane

Carmelo Battiata was found guilty of (ace gas

(continued on next page) wee

‘

’
beset natn an siilshidany :
ee 5
ike ag ite: gunal Manin 7
OH tk bs

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aoe heat ob

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ot
a amet we One

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tener *
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LWOIK.

_were to be commifioned by thofe in office.

( 10.) |

edieniee: an immediate and fpecial command from
nrift, to go forth and preach the vofpel. Their call

. WHS extraordinary.—Thro them and their fucceifors

were others, in after ages, to be commiffioned to the
Mi hen furnifhed with competent knowledge
: as ap 5
“and abilities, and fan@ified by divine grace, they
° Ce aod . . . . Perfons
authorifed in this way are the miniflering fervants of
‘ - C . ‘ : . . as
Curift, as truly as thoic committioned, iinmediately,

. by him. They go forth in his naine, and, by his au- °*
thority, declare the glorious gofpel of the -blciled -
ets : a oy 6

eye the minifiry of thefe the great Lord is pleafed? ,
_to bring home tac lott, the wandering finners—to ga-t
ther thaole who are naked, and feed on hufks, to eat
roe . . 3 . ye
bread in ts houfe, anc wear goodly raiment. Thio -
the infruimentality ‘of fuch :the intercft of the Re-
renews ; r 7 t ‘ -
, decwuer is fupported, his caufe maintained, and new
fubjects, trom time to timc, brought imto his, king-

ae
oe

,
aain. . . : * -= ’
. s .
eer x .
~ J now onierve, ae as ee
tifa patio a © .
if. Thofe.catied to the work are to preach the gof-
pel to every ereature.
e, .
a1) ' . .
~ God has not excluded any from hearing the pot-
lic has, exprefsly, ordered lis miniitering ler-
vants to preach the cofpel to every buman creacure.
‘Viney are lo open their mouths boldly, and declare to
emmen, in every ftuation, thofe truths which fovin the
e of chrifianity—whica conttitute the gofpel of
sl greal men
or dig nisl-
4)

pel.

sefiens
-Ciariit.
-in odice. | Lowever excited the characicr,
wed. the flati se cxalted above Ul sel

ed the flation, no onc 3s cxalted above the go pel.
-Thereis the iame moral poliution—ihe fame neceiy-

Sry of a change of hearteethe faine necd of an wione-

Tne at eer. Loaecre
Lacy are to wmreacil to KIN SS

«
-N

vt
me

eee eT

miciit,
Kings and Prin

7 {8 ae,

and the Came accountability in one 2s another.
ceos—great men and the nobles of the
“ ‘
earth, have the fame need of tne gofpel as otne’s.
To the poor alfo, the gofpel is to be preachea.
So it was when Chrift was 10 the flefh, and this was

one evidence given to John’s difciples that he was tlic

Mefliah.
é , . ad . . * ra pA - rn 2
No onc is fo low in lifc as to b¢ negictled © God,
Among

as to be defpifed of jelus.
recious friends, tich in graces

God has chofen the poor of

‘nor any fo poor
the poor ke has many p
and heirs of cternal giory+:
this world. |

Furtwner,

The gofpel is to be preached to merc moralifls.—
Do not tome vainly imagine that becaule they arenot
fo openly vicious as others, and avoid many the

offer adits of fin, and do, as they think. many good
deeds to commend themiclvcs to God, they are high
in the divine favor, and (hall obtain a featin heaven ?
Sut thefe are deluded fouls, {rangers to their own
_frearts, and have never known the truth. Such need

a change—need an atoning facrifice—need the truins

of religion to be brought home to their fouls.

We are, morcover, tO preach the gofpel to tne vil-

eft and molt abandoned finacrs.

phemers, drunkards and thieves,

derers, ave to be invited to repent al
truth. » Y¢s, {uch as
Plood, are to hear the found of the wotpel.
mnurderesg of the Soa
who crucified the Lor
dying aggirics, had the firfi offers of peace from
en Savior, then, furcly, no one }

Swearers and blaf-
adulterers and mur
id embrace the
have wantonly, fhed human
If the
of God—it thofe vile charattcrs
d of story,and {ported with iis :
a vil-
is fo vile as.lo be ex-

ry see: sagt IT LE

ann er

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ee eel ek hdl

1d Cleeve
aii peta: On

ari at Perr eee rx . .
EO aes da ah syste ee
nettle

Sic
We qe er

’

ha - Cai . aan ON lh stn

, oe i : ' aor -
jo. # . ‘ - ,
ee” ic ee a flate of complete holine(s, are become univerfally | ‘according to the real temper ioe ate ee “ oe HA
avi i corrupt, and totally finful, is.a plain doctrine of the | conlequence of this will be eevee = ips be}
ed hl bible, and is, completely, verified by the condud of important to faints ana finners. Vne rae S. es hee
eg Wej. rests ak are : get Vee 4 iv ho have repented of fin, and embraced tc Ae Je = }
one T : iyo os a rr mer te ge Se tee ete -fus by faith, will be feated on his arias , : . 4
ee Oa .. No lefs plain is the idea that God, from everlafting, =} crowns of glory on their heads, and fongs 7% c* “s ae ae
vos “a 4 determined to favea part of the human.race; and did, ing joy in their mouths. Phey will inherit & ae : ee
2 | ; ‘by an eternal act of his own will, choole them to fal, | able blefednefs with God and the ee Ae Me t ae |
si | vation as the end, and to repentance, faith, and fancs ! amidft countliefs millions of ‘fais am ah ae - |
ay tification as the means. eee OS eae eternal monuments of divine grace. Butt ores ; 4
oe ’ ed, how awful their flate How, ualpeoks ye Rot
eae - Ibis, alfo, a do&rine of the gofpel that the ele@ are” '~ dreadful their condition ! Seperated, sais oe 7 4
im yufiGed only for the fake of Chrift, who, by his obey! - the congregation of the rightcous, they wi = se a ‘1
i. ~ dicnce, and meritorious fufferiags, has wroughtaut’a =! fromthe judgment feat, and doomed to = ie a OF Fis
i ~ _ Rericect rightcoufnefs—a riphteoufnels that is fuficiy “woe—to remedilcls, eternal nt a ee 4
ea ~~ ent for all—thac is offered to all in aland of light; hell. " j
| that might be accepted bymall if the heart were not, ; oo. ott 1 Thefe “a‘fome: : :
bed abftinately, oppofed to God, and his methods of grace, - This, for fubftance, is the gofpel. ee he bib’ bs
on : is Y: BR gs cue a Poe ad ‘of the Icading and moft important truths of the bi inca :
bs _ I: follows as a divine truth that a total, .and_ real, In thefe, the minds of godd people, generally, meet ; . rod
1: change of heart is necelfury, in order that mai. ’may and in‘thefe chriflians agree and rejoice, . cm
aa wpent of fin, and believe on Jefus Chri%. Repent- ” | ; | are ) 4
oe ance and faith are the exercifes not of the natural ° We will notice, : } 4
oo man, but of thercnewcd heart ; and without thefewe, . . — ; oe en eee es
. cannot be faved. The nateral man receiveth not the ===. The commiffion of Chrift to his mini Lering ! |
: “3 | shiiigs of the se of God—they ard fotefints fie at fervants. . : S : - \
“ z ; ; : ‘ Ane ivariz, he ce j rao of: , 7 . Bok ag : ; :
: ve ee sei il not fee ie BENG e a ne The commiMion to the firft minifters of Chrifl, we re
uo : +s nt have in the text.—Their call was extraordinary, aud cs ;
. ; re, ake taught, further, that fuck as are born again,. .. : their qualification miraculous. A pew ite of ee : if
. totes nd united to Chrift by faith, fhall abide, and live in ©. — gion was to be cftablithed, aud tials "eam von, bg
‘ ok the tru: vine—that nothing fhall ever feperate them = 2 were neceflary to effect it. ipwerani Ae oe ¥ . { \
e. 3h from the love of God—that they fhall be kept, by his. ’ |, «called from their nets, and amply furnifiec ne page a
: . mishcy power, thro faith unto falvation. an work. Cl&en tongues of fire eg ir eae ; 3
; — ; sa eS : by the immediate git of the Ifloly oe ote, ‘ P34
: so “God has told us, that at fome period, yet unknown. zt enabled to {peak all the languages a the enh ’ sai d es.
| to man, he will raifeall the dead—that he will caufe =* | filence the learned prich 55 pee ae =
L . auniverfal judyment,. when all min, fhall: be. treated all ‘che bitter cavillifs . that day. Thus qua.ine a
be a eae
\ ee
ie cme emanee ET ~ ;
4 eer ee A TE J
7 " _ OE prensa eae ee oO genie”

8 povwmae 88

‘

.
4
we ee nh ee

>
Py

ba ae a

.
4 ‘
Set eas tle Alen ap nein deg

‘ .
iene <erntteiigg.. 4

ee on oe

THAT tines,

- +

(eis)

cluded from the offer—none fo odious that he may.
hot be invited to Chrift. We are ordered to preach
the gofpel'to all—to high and low—to rich and poor
~— {0 every creature,

According to the commiffion from Chrift, his fer.
vants have labored, and are fill laboring in the world.,
Peter aGied under this commiffion when, on the day

of pentecoft, he preached to the multitudes affembled.

at Jerufalem, and brought many to the ftandard of
Chrift. And fo did Paul when he travelled in the
caft, preaching the golpel to his fellow finners,tand
{pread chriftianity thro all the provinces of the Roman
ein pire. ,

In the execution of this commiffion, the gotnel is”

now preached in all our towns and focieties—in our

new fettiements, and among the favapes of the wil--

dernefs. And this will continue until the time {po-

ken of by the prophets, when the fulnefs of the gen.

tiles fhall come in, and all Ifrael be faved—when

tcn fhall love as brethren; fwords and the infru- ;
ments of death being converted into the ufeful inftru--

ments of hufbandry—when the wildernefs {hall blof-

fom as the rofe, and Ethiopia fhail fretch cut her hands .
.t0 God, a

IMPROVEMENT.
We are led to remark,

1. That the good man exalts God tothe throne of
the univerfe. Amid the varicgated fcenes of life the
faint is fupported by the idea that the Lord rcigns.—
Many things take place which are crofling to the nat-
ural feelings of thechildren of God. But we ma
know there is a God whofe government is over all his
Creatures, Ze ts the rock; his work is perxfeli— What

Cas oo

A weer ee ety

OF Pe eee mn eee + eee

OS re er Noose 1 ingore pee. wneses

emer

(33°)

tho we look round the weild and ‘fee confuGon and
devaftation—adverfity and diftrefs—wars and conten-
tions 2 What tho iniquitics prevail, and men bite
and devour one another ? Yet, we may know there
is a God on the throne who maketh the wrath of man to
praife him ; and will, in the end, render all thefe
things fubfervient to his own glory, and the happi-
nels of the faints.

We infer; <* ss

2. That the gofpel is free to all. Menare finners,
Sunk in depravity ; all are gone out of the way. God
is merciful. Heé has opened his bowels of grace in the
plan and work of redemption. God, in mercy, fent
his Son into the world, to make an atonement by his
death, and prepare the way for men to become recon-
ciled toGod. Chrift, in compaffion to men, when he

-had completed the work of redemption, made provil-

ion for publifhing it to the world, by appointing a
preached gofpel. And he has made provifion fora
gencral offer—a general proclamation of terms of
peace and reconciliation. Go ge into all the world, and
preach the gofpel to every creature.
thus offered is free to all.’
liftcn to the language of Chrilt in his word. To, cve-
ry one that thirfcth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath
no money : come ye, buy and eat ; pea, come, buy wine and
melk without money, and without price.*

Come unto me allye that labor, and are heavy laden, and
Twill give you reft.

Lf any man thirft, ict him comeunto me and drink.

find the Spirit and the bride fay, Come. And let hin
that heareth fay, Com And let him that is athirf come.
And whofaeveg will, les him take the waiter of life frecly,

The invitations of the gofpel are made to all : and

-, “ Iswiah, lv. i. The Prophet spealing in the name of Christ,

And the gofpel |

Hear, for a moment, and

t
a
fo
r
1.
{
-
r.
a
i
Bes
i Peet
4 7
4
a,
5
$ gj
ae |
é 3
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i <}
q
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oe
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s
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ss H
fs?

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£ {
<< 7
et . $
ae
at of a
ora Sis |
f fie j
& aig
a rely {
fs egal
Lk: am
=
ze 7
be bai j

rg 4 1'] !
ap |
t= i
ps } '
4 Ee?
AE
& 4 tes! i
‘ Py s
‘ tof.
= Por
eer ee | ,
7
é ' ,
i ; .
Py 2
t ! ,
: Do
. ‘ /
be 1 vf
r. ‘
:

Oe mete ce

iad el eee

vO tee

wee ie eo ‘ ee The reafon

. Pay any perth is lat they have ffer it
Is becaufe they bave no beri <coltighieor its
terins God js boldins outto the: : The rid : that
given by Chrift in his lamentation over. erufaiem,
O Ferufalem, Ferufolem, thou that killefh the probhets and
SJlorep then that are fent urto thee, how often would J hee
Eathered thy children together, eucn as‘g hen evathers her
chickens under her wines, and ye would not t ~

"Ty sary fad a] y 7 }

- Ae divine conduct is fuch as to take away every
dhadow -xcule from finnere ir tmoutt

he of Seynie ‘rom finners, and fhut their mouths
in. lence, Walle the divine chara@er will thine, for.
ever, brizht, and, un{peakably, glorious, ers.
. < r
Ay!

“s

e
0

It follows, -

“*3- That thofe who reje& the golpel will mect with
an awful Condemnation. fe that knows his Lord ’s
will and does it not, {hall be beaten with many ftripes.
Was there no Provifion made for faving finners, theix
-COntinued impenitency would not be fox ageravated.
ly, criminal 3 for it could nat be avoided. Or were
the terms of reconcitiation ket from their view thoy
would have forme color of excufe, But there is an
ample and complete atonement, Divine truth js re-
vealed. Salvation is Offered to all. We have the

. = ° a : gs. e . « . :
bible in ou; ands, and Cariftt js preached, and falya-

40a thro hii offered to every foul. To impenitent
finncrs of this defcripiion, therefore, there remains an
awful. condemnation, Zac reafon is obvions. It is
becaule they ‘are enemies cf God, and love darknefs
rather than light, | _

All impenitent Saners love darknefs.

They love,
a oe
and delight in, the ways of fin,

_The drunkard loves

his cups, and the vile perfon his evil ways. The |

Inurdcrer loves his malice, and to gratily the evil pro-

SOT amg,

C 1g

penfhity of a corrupt heart he goes, deliberately, and,
iu- open violation of the Jaw of his inind, fheds ine
blood of his fellow. The condemnation of thete will
be that they aed ircely, and of their Own choice in
going the way that leads down to death. re

There is licht enough to convince, even, the mot
abandoned infidel, were it not that his heart, is, invet-
erately, oppoled to God and his revealed truth. © Let
aman only follow the internal tcacnings of his own
_conf{cicnee, and weigh the evidence in favor of chrif-
-tlanity with that rational candor which he exercifes in
-the: common concerns of life, and infidelity would
“vanifhi as the fhades of night fly before the rifins fur,
‘But they love darknefs. They will not come to the
dight. . The hehe of revelation reproves them—con-
Gerans their deeds —noints Out their danger, and
‘threatens them with future punifiment in hejl. This
smakes infidels. . This makes the bitter enemics of Jc-
fas thas their eyes againit the light, and flrive to put
At out. This makes them fearch for, arguments a.
tgarmith chrifianity. 1
emake thermfelves cafy in fin, “Pacey hate the bible for

the fame reafon that Ahab hated the prophet of God,
He owned Micaiah was a prophet efthe Lord. His
-confcicace, at that time. forced him to own the trath ;
-bat the enmity of his heart overleapt the bounds fee
by his conicience, and he broke out, LT hate him ; for
-he duth not prophecy good concerning me, but evil.—Divine
-revelation Peints oui no 200d, but evil, tothe wicked ;
And thcy hate it—they. (wear cternal war with the
truth of God. - Will not infidels. then—will not al]
Fach as rejeet che. g0'pel wicet with an awful condem-

rr ©}
*

-Wauion. ——o? : . a . 3 : % eee a a rs

‘
ee) ¥%

fincls cf the lveaker to-day, It is.not to teli you
Miew. t0 be great and rich in thewerld, I: is not... to

‘ ee
.

It is only to quict con{cience, and *

Ror ee sentees a ce . Fi : :
de fie canjeet points our, cleany, whatis the bu-,

“ie

as
ji sigs Sat oat eel
aps ete meer om ey me Ft ome

a pene 8
.

(oe eee ere me,

POE ee (om ame, “MP wee +
’ 4 a y

Se a a COE PORE TRL rn,

Mee, Mie we

JENNINGS, Michael - Connecticut

NEW HAVEN FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY

133 ELM STREET, NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT 06510 ©@ TELEPHONE 787-8141
. FAX 787-8699

SUMNER WHITE, City Librarian Honorable JOHN C. DANIELS, Mayor
July 24, 1991

Mr. Watt Espy, Director

Capital Punishment Research Project
P.O. Drawer 277

160 East Main Street

Headland, AL 346345

Dear Mr. Espy:

Your letter of June ifth, concerning the trail and execution
of Michael Jennings for murdering Mrs. Esther Bradley, has
been referred to my attention.

First I consulted the library's New Haven bicgraphy index,
but found no listing for either individual. In the Local
History Room a clipping file is maintained on Local triais,
but again I found no reference to the case that you are
researching.

I next consulted Donald Lines Jacobus’ Families of Ancient
New Haven. —- Rome, NY¥: Clarence D. Smith, 1923-19729 for
entries under either name.

No Listings were found for Michael Jennings.

On page 731i there is an Esther (Heaton) Bradley who died 24
Jul i832 at the age of 45. No cause of death indicated; the
source of the date is from the “Modern Graveyard in North
Haven". She was Born circa 1810 the daughter of Theophilus
Heaton and Almeria Bronson. She married Barzillai Bradley,
no date given.

I next consulted the New Haven city directory for i853-32.
There were no Listings for Michael Jennings, Barzillai
Bradley or Esther Bradley.

The New Haven city yearbook which often contains
departmental reports did not begin until i860. The New
Haven Police Department was founded in 185i, But the Library
does not have any annual reports from the earlier years.

Your may wish to contact the New Haven Colony Historical
Society's research Library, The Whitney Library, 114 Whitney
Avenue, New Haven, CT 06510-1025 Tel. 203-35462-4183.

Lastiy I consulted works on the town of North Haven.

THE COMMUNITY INFORMATION CENTER

Soutce A Amidst culbuated And pleasant Gelds a

b room tnaal histany of Notth the Ny, ConNneadttag 7
Kucy me Teer brusig, —— CA MAIN, New Wanpcl x, tate ek

Vu alnan c | WG

cen y

needed money; it was not unusual for a worker to draw five dollars on
his wages the day he signed up to work. He was allowed to charge clothing
at the company store or at Pierpont’s General Store at North Haven Bridge. |

112 Occasionally the yard paid a doctor bill. For the most part, workers saved
‘ _— their money and drew good sums at the end of their term of employment.
¢ Those who lived with their families in company houses paid nine dollars
t rent for four months, received slightly higher salaries because they were
: not boarding, and usually also had a cash surplus. Few women were

employed by the brickyards; those who were seem to have received low
wages (about two dollars a week). Their work was not described, but it
is assumed that they worked in boardinghouses.

However, brickyard work was seasonal. For the most part, the men
did not stay long. Irish children were not enrolled in school during this
period, and it is likely that the Irish did not take part in the town’s social
life.
f Nevertheless, the Irish in North Haven in the 1850s were viewed with |
misgiving. Sackett wrote that “fear seizes the mind when the fact is told
that six Irish robbers entered the house of Anson Baldwin in North Bran-
ford.” In 1851 Betsey Blakeslee wrote to a friend: |

pe tee

; intemperance leads to all manner of evil: last Sunday evening Stiles — |
Peck started to come home [from an evening meeting at the Congrega- |

tional Meetinghouse] and got up a little way on the railroad and there |

were three Irishmen stood upon the railroad fighting and to shun them

he ran on to the other road. They took after him knocked him down told

him if he made any noise they would be [the] death of him.

Peck was rescued by a man ina wagon, at which point a “pitched battle”
ensued, pitting four men, a fence rail, a dirk, and a pistol against the three
Irishmen who nevertheless escaped.

In another instance, in 1853, an Irishman was arrested at the railroad
depot in New Haven for the murder of North Haven resident, Esther
Heaton Bradley (Hannah Heaton’s great-granddaughter), on what might
be termed prejudice corroborated by circumstantial evidence: his shoes
fit footprints in the cornfield, and a knife in his pocket fit the point left
in Mrs. Bradley's skull. In addition, his clothes had been freshly washed —
presumably to get rid of bloodstains. The supposed murderer was con-
victed and hanged, even though he never confessed to the crime.

Social problems in Connecticut increased when foreigners came; one
of the problems was the cost of “assisting the newcomers.”!2 On the back

nena etnstnsseeeeeneeeetettes.:

Amidst cultivated and pleasant fields

Sacke# > 193

JENNINGS, Michael, 18, hanged New Uaven, Connecticut, on July 11, 185).

"New Haven, Conn., duly 25, 1853-SHOCKING MURDER - The wife of Barzillai Bradley, a
respectable citizen of North Haven, was was murdered yesterday in her house while
her family were absent at church, She was stabbed and cut in the most savage manner,
An Irishman named Michael Jennings, formerly in Bradley's employ, has been arrested
"9 owt ead CONSTITUTIONALIST AND REPUBLIC, Augusta, Georgia, KWgwxR July 29,

1 53 (2: By

"A youth of eighteen, the dutiful and obedient son of a respectable man, in humble
life, residing in Brooklyn, Ne Ye, goés out into the world to earn his living, Hés
personal character is unimpeached, and no indications of a malicious or violent
temper have been manifested by him and he is ae RONEN farmer named Brazillai
Bradley in New Haven, Ct., and while there notices is laid up in a drawer

in a bed chamber and he secures it, and selecting Sunday for the prupose of his crime
and finding the family absent at public worbhip as they are accustomed to be, The
house being in a secluded spot and having easy access to it, and without much
exposure seize his booty and make good his tretreat before the family returns. So
unobstructed to be his access to the unlawful prize, that he counted upon it as al-
ready his own, Upon reuching the house and finding Mrs. Bradley at home he is dis-
appointed and irritated; and not unwilling to be foiled in his nefarious design, he
probably made some attempt to confine or control her, It was evident from the los
cality and character of the wounds that the struggle was long and that the woman was
held from behind, Finding the attempt more difficult than he apprehended and resokved
at all hazards to accomplish his object, he assaulted his defenseless victim with

the only instryment he had with him, though it was evidently not brought for such a
use, and having commenced the bloody work he finished it with a barbarity seldom
paralleled, The rentantion of the knife with which the wounds were given (knowing

as he probably did, that a fragment of it was left in the body of his victim, and wo
would most certainly be found) and the neglect of every ordinary precaution against
the diswovery of his guilt, seemed to indicate either that he was not aware of the
fatal weverity of the wounds, or that he was under no apprehension of being arrested
as KK&XHK a murderer, He was arrested, however, very speedily, the guilt of the mur-
der fixed upon him, and expiated (so far as hum laws are concerned) by the for-
feiting of his own life upon the gibbet." JOURNAL OF PRISON DISCIPLINE AND

PHILANTHROPY, Vol. X, #1, Jane, 1855, pp 11-12

Amidst cultivated and pleasant fields a bicentennial history
of North Haven, Connecticut / by Lucy McTeer Brusic. ——-
Canaan, New Hampshire : Phoenix Publishing Co., i984.

This work is indexed and did contain an entry on the murder
on page ilf. A copy of the page is enclosed. You may wish
to write to either of the following repositories for more
information on the diary of Sam Sackett:

North Haven Historical Society
27 Bradley Road
North Haven, CT O4473

Comnecticut State Library

State Library and Supreme Court Bldg.
231i Capitel Avenue

Hartford, CT 646164

The library also has a copy of North Haven annals: a history
of the town from its settlement 1468060, to its first
centennial 1886 / by Sheidon B. Thorpe. —- New Haven, Conn.
: Price, Lee & Adkins Ceo, i8%e.

This work is also indexed but contains no listings for any
of the people involved in the case. I did consult the
entries Listed under crimes, but found no pertinent
information.

Please remit $3.25 for the enclosed photocopy per the fee
schedule.

Sincerely.

Arthur D. Reinhart, Vocal History Librarian

Enclosure

cumstances were so strong and peculiar in their character as
to leave in the mind hardly any doubt of the correctness of
the verdict of the J ury before whom he was tried, and by
whom he was convicted. No new facts were proved before
us, tending to show that the conclusion to which his triers ar-
rived was erroneous. The counsel for the petitioners indeed,
while not admitting the guilt of the convicted, did not base
his claim for legislative interference on the ground that Jen-
nings is innocent of the alledged crime. But Jennings, when
the dreadful deed was done was a mere boy, but seventeen
years of age, with a character, so far as we could learn, un-
sullied by crime. His father, upon whom this blow has fal-
len with stunning and withering effect, exhibited before us
the evidence that he and his family had always sustained
excellent reputations for honesty, industry and integrity ; and

evidence was offered tending to prove that up to the time the ;

murder was committed, of which his son Michael has been
convieted, that Michael himself had conducted himself with
perfect propriety. Mr. Bradley, the husband of the murdered
woman, and Mr. Harrison and his wife, with whom Jennings
lived after leaving Mr, Bradley’s, all testified that while Jen-
nings was with them he behaved well, had no disputes or
quarrels with their children, and exhibited no evidence of a
vicious disposition; and no testimony was offered by the At-
torney for the State of an opposite character. We believe
this to be one of those cases, where a resolution to take one
wrong and unjustifiable step, has unexpectedly led to the
sudden commission of the highest crime known to the law.
Jennings, it appeared, claimed that the husband of the mur-
dered woman, with whom he had for a short time lived,
wrongfully withheld from him his wages, and in an evil hour
he doubtless resolved to enter the house of Mr. Bradley on a
certaitt Sunday when the family were at Church, and: ap-
propriate to his own use enough of the property of Mr. Brad-
ley to satisfy his claint. This in the eye of the law, if car-
ried out would be robbery, but to the mind of an ignorant

youth of seventeen it might not have’ appeared criminal.
This was his error. This was the fatalfésolution ; that by a
step as quick and sudden as thought, led tothe taking of life.
Up to the very moment of committing the crime there was
no murder in his heart. The possibility of it had not’ prdba=
bly entered his mind. There was no forethought, no pre:
meditation, no deliberation. This is evident from the absence:
of preparations for such a work. A novice in crime, at least
of a high character, he would if he had intended before hand
to take life, out of abundant caution, have armed himself té
the teeth with instruments of death that could have been
implicitly relied on. But this boy had no weapon except a
common pocket knife. Probably while taking or endeavoring :
to take what he considered rightly as ‘belonging to’ hith ‘for
unpaid wages, when he supposed the usual occupants of: thé »
house were at Church, he found himself discovered by Mrs:
Bradley, and then upon the instant, without time for reflee-
tion and fearing exposure, he resolved to take the life that
seemed to stand between him and reputation, safety and lib- +
erty. . Having no weapon but’ a pocket jack knife, he used
that, and one stab increased “the necessity’ of triking® gain
and again, and of repeating the thrasts until life was exi
and thus the poor and unfortunate victim Was alind: hterall
covered with wounds, most of which, in case ‘the murder ad
been deliberate and premeditated, would have been avoided? ’
Between Mrs. Bradley and Jennings no unkind: féélings had
ever existed. He probably had never desired or intendéd’”
to injure her, much less to take her life. This ease is strongly
distinguished from that of ordinary murders, where poison ‘or
deadly weapons are procured for the purpose, and where the’
convicted has mused over and arranged’ the details’ of the’
dark deed for days and weeks before hand, aiid seoretly lies
in wait at last to perpetrate the’ offense. The murdérer, in
his age and circumstances, is very unlike the old ‘and hard-
ened offenders, who finally give up to the demands of justice’
a life which has been forfeited to the State a hundred times.

Cr
= AT on x.y Ten 7 34 64 r J ly 11 1854
JNNINGS, Michael, white, hanged New Haven, CT on Julj ,
GHININL INGO y dL cA ? >

MAJORITY AND MINORITY

REPORTS
Ly
Of THE COMMITTEE
ON *

CAPITAL PUNISHMEN'T,

‘ ON THE

PETITION OF MICHAEL JENNINGS,

at
if k if
et 4 ¥ 4
iw 12 ee
“2 i es
FOR ae eso
4g ye
at} ey

COMMUTATION OF PUNISHMENT.

! _-MAY SESSION, 1854, - -

Ne NN NTN NRE IR ARN IRR IRIN LR eon oo, 4
BY ORDER OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY,

ON ee

NAO ON NPN LO PL ep OL II

PI I pe rey

e NEW HAVEN: |
BABCOCK & WILDMAN, STATE PRINTERS.

1854,

’
;

MAJORITY REPORT.

Amnaneeaeservrersree_— 820 200 eee

Or rae Stars or Connncrticut, >
May Session, A. D., 1854:

The Joint Select Committee on Capital Punishment, to
whom was referred the petition of James Jennings, for the
commutation of the punishment of his son, Michael Jennings,
now under sentence of death, to imprisonment for life and

GENERAL ASSEMBLY,

hard labor in Connecticut State Rabin and beset the . —

petitions of John Harvey and others; George W.-M:
others, George Beckwith and “ot hers, ‘Thon i
others, Alva Cook and others, John’ Gt
Kelly and others, Daniel Healey and others, Bernard Riley and
others, and William Mills and others in aid thereof, would
respectfully report :—That they have attended to the duty
assigned them, and heard the parties with their proofs and
counsel, the States’ Attorney for New Haven County appear-
ing in behalf of the State to oppose the granting of said pe-
titions. It was proved before us that Michael Jennings was,
at the January term of the Superior Court for New Haven
County, A. D. 1854, convicted of the crime of murdering on
the 24th day of July, A. D. 1853, Mrs. Esther Bradley of
North Haven, and that he is now under sentence of death
and confined in New Haven County Prison. ‘The evi-

dende of his guilt was entirely circumstantial, but the ocir-

homas Mah craked 4.
‘and of Gd , s *

——

Spee Fare EN es .
a TN AT 0 eS eposeheene
aro apts enter “Sh SSE Ce AED meena maeiem teeta

6 ot

Such being the facts of this case, the convicted not hav-
ing yet arrived at man’s estate, and not having premeditated
the murder of Mrs. Bradley, your Committee believe that the
ends of public justice will be better attained by confining
him in the Connecticut State Prison for life, and compelling
him to labor for the benefit of the State, than by taking his
life.

The only legitimate design and object of punishment, we
suppose, to be the protection of society, and the reformation
of offenders. By substituting the prison for the scaffold in
this instance, we think both of these objects will be more
certainly attained. Jennings dead, would be soon forgot-
ten, but seen through the grates, in the awful silence of a
solitary cell, his example would be a continual warning to
the young against listening to the first whisperings of tempta-
tion. More eloquently than the tongue of the most gifted,
would his detection and punishment declare, until the last
sands of his life were run out, that crimes however secretly
committed, and when no human eye witnesses their perpetra-
tion, are sure to reveal to the officers of the law their perpe-
trators, and to be followed by their appropriate penalties.
We do not believe that a change in this case, will weaken in
any respect the protection which our laws throw around hu-
man life. In regard to the reformation of the offender, the
argument is all one way. If his life is spared, the discipline
of the prison, the teachings of religion, and the silent but
effective workings of conscience, continued through long
years, from youth to manhood, through middle age, and per-
haps old age, would tend to prepare him for his great and
last change. We do not believe that He who spoke as never
man spake, and who said to the adulterous woman, “go and

sin no more,” demands of his followers the shedding of blood

im a case like this. We believe it will be more consonant
with the mild spirit of Christianity to give further time for
repentance, and not hurry him into the immediate’ presence

of his Maker in his very boyhood, with all his sins upon hit
head. ee

The salutary effect of prison discipline in Yeforming crimi-
nals, and its consequent superiority over the seaffold, is seen
in the case of Jennings himself, since his confinement in
New Haven County Prison. The keeper of that prison ‘testi-
fied before us that his conduet had improved of late, and
that during the last six weeks it had ‘been without fault,
Previous to that time, with the exception of a single instance
of obscenity, the principal complaint against him was, that,
as he did not work during the day, he could not sleep during
the night as much as the other prisoners, and that when
awake he persisted in rattling a certain hook in his cell, by
swinging it, so that the slumbers of the rest were interrupt-
ed. As he has behaved so much better recently, your Com-
mittee believe, that the work of reform now in progress ought
not to be suddenly interrupted by the rope of the execution-
er. The certainty of punishment, rather than the degree of
it, deters men from the commission of crime; and this cer-
tainty is as effectually seen in our jails and prisons, as it
would be by a thousand scaffolds. If in the infancy of our
race, before the first prison had been built, the murderer of &
brother was suffered to go at large, by God. himself, after be-
ing so marked that men might know and avoid him, it certain-
ly is safe for us also to spare life, when our prisons are perfect-
ed by the experience of at least six thousand years.

For these and other reasons, your Committee recommend
that the prayer of said petitioners should be granted, and the
passage of the accompanying resolution.

All which is respectfully submitted.

LORENZO H. TREAT,
WARD CHENEY,
THOMAS M. CLARKE,
JOHN. WEBB,
HORACE. DAVIS,
WILLIAM PLATT,
LAUREN SMITH.

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After the murder and robbery, he ran across. some lots,
(his tracks and bloody hand marks indicating his course,) on
to another road, and then hurried to New Haven; he was
seen and distinctly recognized by several persons. He’ar-
rived in New Haven early in the afternoon; he disposed of
his plunder as he could, among people from his native coun-
try, females, &c., with whom he used and exchanged the
money.

The news of this murder spread ; and early on the morning
of Monday, the twenty-fifth, Mr. S. B. Miner having heard
the same, being early at the New Haven Depot, saw Jen-
nings coming suspiciously toward the depot, and from de-
scription, and his manners, coming as he did in an unusual
direction, immediately suspected and questioned him, and
finally had him arrested ; he made many efforts to escape on
the cars. His clothes had been recently washed, and were
not yet dry,—his hat and boots were sprinkled with blood ;
he gave false and contradictory statements ; a jack-knife was
taken from his pocket, by Officer Knevals, stained with blood
and broken at the point and edge, which he insisted had not
been broken, though the piece broken from said knife was

found in and extracted from the skull of Mrs. Bradley, by
Messrs. Knight and Jewett. J ennings stated that he was
at the Catholic Church on the afternoon of that Sabbath; but
no person could be found that saw him there ;
statements concerning the matter,
dictory.

The report of the majority of this Committee, speak of
Jennings as of previous good character, but the evidence, lim-
ited as it was, would hardly sustain the assertion ; it consist-
ed of the testimony of his father, and the certificates of a
few relatives and friends; on the other hand, his whole con-
duct in connection with this act, and the act itself, show him
to have been possessed of no high moral character. It was
in evidence, that from the time of his arrest to the present,

he made many
all false and contra-

- om 43 @

he had been confined in New Haven Jail, and during that
time his conduct has been worse than that of any other pris-
oner, he has been insubordinate, profane, and obscene.

With these facts before them, the subscribers can see no
reason whatever for interfering with the judgment of the
Court and Jury who tried him, or for arresting the course of
Justice according to our law as it now is. | 7

We, therefore, respectfully recommend that the petitioners
have leave to withdraw their petition.

All of which is respectfully submitted.
EDW. SAVAGE,
SAMUEL E. LINSLEY.

SRE NET” RE eT MURS emg Baer

son

“_s

the avsence of Mr. Bradley, without the knowledge of Mr. B.,
without serving out his time, or assigning any reason for so
doing. And on the 21st day of June, 1853, engaged himself
to Mr. Amos Harrison of Northford, about six miles from Mr.
Bradley’s ; on the same day that he quitted Mr. Bradley,
representing to Mr. H. that he was direct from New York.
During his stay at Mr. Bradley’s he had ample opportunity
of observing where Mr. Bradley kept his money. He hired
himself to Mr. Harrison for one and a half months, but on
Wednesday quit Mr. H., on pretence of going direct to New
York. Mr. H. having ascertained that he had lived with Mr.
Bradley advised him to call on Mr. B. and settle.. This he
promised to do, but evaded under various pretences. On
Wednesday, July 20th, 1853, Mr. Enos Camp of Durham,
passing by Mr. Harrison’s in his wagon, consented to take
Jennings. On his way, Jennings being urged and advised
to call on Mr. Bradley and settle with him, Mr. Camp stopped
and urged him to get out and go to Mr. Bradley’s. , He de-
clined, saying he would meet Mr. B. in New Haven. ».On
their way they ascertained that Mr. Bradley was at home and
not in New Haven, but that Bradley’s son had gone there.
Jennings made some statements about the boy, Mr. Bradley’s

Mr. Camp left Jennings at New Haven, on the 20th of

July, where he remained till Sunday, July 24th with some

acquaintances, male and female. At Mr. Bradley’s he had
every opportunity of knowing, not only where his money was
kept, but also his habit of going to meeting by a particular
time on the Sabbath. Mr. B.’s household consisted of himself,
two boys and their mother, a small, feble woman, who on this
day was not well enough to accompany them to meeting.
About the time, or soon after people went to meeting, Jen-
nings was seen hurrying towards Mr. Bradley’s on foot from
New Haven—(the distance from New Haven to Bradley’s

‘being about four miles)}—from whence he was seen ‘in about

one and a half hours. hurrying on his return on another

road, Several persons saw and recognized him. 4
It would seem that the murderer met Mrs. Bradley at the

entrance of her sitting room; there her dead. body lay on the.
return of her husband and children, mangled and. horridly
disfigured by over fifty wounds and bathed in blood. It
would seem that she attempted to shield her face from his
knife by raising her hands and apron; both were cut by the
knife, and her face badly mangled, also, that she bled to
death, as the pest mortem examination of Messrs. Knight and
Jewett showed; no one wound calculated .to produce death
immediately, After she had fallen to the floor the murderer
deliberately thrust his knife into her neck cutting nearly
from ear to ear back of the wind pipe, and then enlarged
the same wound by working or sawing his knife therein.
She made no resistance except efforts to escape ; her position
when found dead showed this, also the fact that no marks
were found on his person.

After these acts, and while this woman was probably slow-
ly. dying from exhaustion by loss of blood, he -proceded o
rob-the heuse.of, all the. money. and. valuables: he..could eon-
veniently.carry. away jhe murdered :first,,end then robbed ;
for the doors, drawers, pantry, S&e., wherever he operated,
showed his tracks, stained with. blood, and the marks: of

hands.

yaar not go to get pay for an honest debt,—he had always
declined calling on Mr. Bradley, though -requested .se to do
even by Mr. Camp, when coming to New Haven on the pre-
ceding Wednesday. And he had remained in New Haven
till that time when he had reason to believe Mr. Bradley and
children would be at meeting. Besides, he robbed the house
of all he could conveniently conceal and carry, some of which
have never been found, and all the money he could lay hands
on-——an amount wholly disproportionate to any demand he ever
pretended to have on Mr. Bradley.

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GENERAL ASSEMBLY,
May Session, 1854.

Resolved by this Assembly, That the punishment of
Michael J ennings, now confined in New Haven County Pris.
on, and under sentence of death for the murder of Esther

Bradley, be, and the same hereby is commuted to i
ment for life, and hard labor,

STATE OF cu ae

mprison-
in Connecticut State Prison.

Rebhe

MINORITY REPORT,

GENERAL ASSEMBLY,
May Session, 1854,

The subscribers, members of the Committee to whom was
referred the petition for commutation of the sentence of
Michael Jennings, now confined in New Haven County Jail,
under sentence of death, to imprisonment for life; respect-
fully report: -— on! thane eee al

That said Michael was convicted: at. the: Jahuary term of
the Superior Court for New Haven County, of the willful, de’
liberate and premeditated murder of Mrs. Esther Bradley,
wife of Barzilla Bradley of North Haven, in said county, on
Sunday, the 24th day of July last.

Although the evidence was circumstantial, no living wit-
ness having seen the deed done, yet the evidence of the
prisoner’s guilt was most perfectly conclusive, admitting of
no reasonable doubt whatever, A brief outline of the facts
may serve to illustrate the deed, and the reasons which force
the subscribers to the conclusion to which we have come.

The prisoner is an Irishman, not far from eighteen years of
age; recently arrived in this country. He in the spring or early
part of the summer of 1853, engaged himself to serve Mr.
Bradley for some-months. After having stayed at Mr. Brad-
ley’s over three Sabbaths, _ fifteen days in all, he left in

oes, he ¥Connseesbae’ ‘Legalese” ‘of the” ‘time the above’ entry" does not
_ dindicate™ ; guilty verdict. “Instead,” it is to be interpreted’ as an

“that Mary. Johnson'was'

Fairfield. ¢

JOHNSON, Mary, hanged Hartford, Conn,, 6-6-1650.
DANIEL ALLEN HEARN

11 Fresh Meadow Road
Monroe, CT 06468

October 3rd 1987

Mr. Watt Espy
P.O. Box 277
Headland, AL 36345

Dear Watt:

I'm writing to inform you of a serious error which I just this
week detected in the Connecticut listing which I sent you earlier.
Evidently I was the latest of several ameteur historians who fell
into the same trap over the years.

- . The matter concerns Mary’ Johnson and her purported June 6th 1650
execution date. She has. been ‘confused with another woman by the name
of Elizabeth Johnson ‘who may or may not have been executed at around
the same time.

Let me first clear up the case of Mary Johnson. The following entry
in the Colonial Records of Connecticut reads as follows and is dated
December 7th 1648,

ce 3 _ “The vil finds the bill of indictment
eee “against Mary Johnson that by her owm
RRM eS aeRO” Gonfession she te ley of familiarity
: : with the devil.’ ee

endorsement of Billa’ Vera to a grand jury indictment combined with a
- guilty plea’ ‘by ‘the defendant. ‘That the: defendant” ‘in this case was”
subsequently “condemned * ‘and: “executed is. ‘not din doubt. “However | we may
discard’ ‘the! 6-6550' execution date and substitute forit' an: ‘undetetmined ~
- > day“4n December’ of} dae Furthermore, I have determined beyond any doubt ~~
oe aa-unmarried | servant girl of the town’ of Wethers-" :
“< €teld: wierpas: Elisabeth Johnson, was. a married woman of, the. town’ of ee

a A gall “ eX

b 4a}

Npldgabeth iolvison. venitPetde,Phet” hiebund? were Barghbete® ‘of A Mr.

: \ Thomas Newton at Fairfield in the year 1649. (The attached map from

‘Sehenk's History. of Fairfield shows where their respective homelots
were.) Mr. Newton owned two parcels ‘and the Johnsons owned’ one. About
mid-year in 1649, Peter Johnson died of. undetermined causes. Surviving
records are fragmentary, “but the next concrete piece of: information I've
been able to determine’ is that ‘on December 30th. 1649, Elizabeth Johnson,
Peter's widow, was committed to prison™ fat Hartford. (She was almost cer-
tainly confined at Fairfield for some time previous.) _—-
“Next,” ‘under the’ ‘date’ ‘of March 28th* 1650," the” Particular’ tort: approves
Goody’ Johnson" Ss binding’ of her’ son’ as* ‘an ‘apprentice’ to’ an’ ‘unidentified So
man of the town of Stratford, (very near Fairfield). “Since ‘she was in ~
the Hartford jail at that time, she had ‘evidently made arrangements for
the welfare of her son, who, with his father dead and mother in prison,
had no other alternative to starvation than an apprenticeship somewhere.
The next clue is dated May 15th’ 1650 in the records of the Particular

Court. On that day a "Grand Jury of Life and Death" handed down the following:

"In the trial between this Commoniealth and Elizabeth

Johnson,:wife of Peter Johnson late of
Fairfield, the Jury finds her GUILTY of
the fact."

"In the trial betwixt this Commonwealth
and Thomas Newton of Fairfield, the Jury
finds him GUILTY of the fact."

It is to be noted that the records are silent as to just exactly what
was the nature of the crime for which Thomas Newton and the widow Johnson
stood convicted on May 15th 1650. Elsewhere in the record there is a ref-
erence to it in these words: "the particulars whereof appeareth in their
said presentment upon the file which were found by the court the 20th of
Feb. 1650 as.appears by the records of that court."

This means. that the details of the crime were contained in the court
records of February 20th 1650 and that both Newton and. the widow Johnson
were arraigned on that date. However the record for that date has perished

and there remains no way, of ascertaining the exact details. It ts-safe to

say, however, that the offense was a capital crime. Otherwise there would
be no mention of a "Grand Jury of Life and Death." Such a jury was con-_
vened only on occasions when a capital case was on the docket.

This leaves us with three possibilities as to what the nature of the
charges could've. been: Witchcraft, Adultury or Murder.

I discount witchcraft because reference to such would've been certainly
made in a witchcraft case at Fairfield which lasted from 1651 to 1653 and
resulted in both extensive litigation and two executions. I likewise dis-
count adultury because sex between a bachelor and a widow is not adulturous.
Also, Connecticut. punished adultury with no penalty worse than public hun-
iliation. This leaves only murder. ~

Since Peter Johnson died shortly before the trouble began, I am led to
suspect. a good old "love triangle", And if such was indeed, the case, we are
talking of. nothing. ‘less, than, Pettt. Treason. and death by, fire. for Elizabeth.
Since the court record which contains. the. charges has vanished, I am led.

‘to further suspect a. whitewash. job. by, the, nineteenth century editors of

the court: records... Since. they always. took. at: ‘upon. themselves to delete any

material. which did not. meet. their criteria for "decency", (all. details of.
(sex. crimes, | etc.. have. ‘perished thanks to. them),,it is almost certain that

a case of a white. woman,being. burned at the stake would've fallen into the
Same category.

In the record dated May Qist 1650 are presented the bill of charges from
the keeper. of the. Hartford jail which read as follows:

Beal Teh Er Rescew's. bill of charges for Elizabeth

Johnson's imprisonment. to the first Thursday of
next month, being 24 weeks, amounting to 6-10s8-00
ts allowed. and approved and the court desires

-Mr. Ludlow and. Mr. Ward to see the bill discharged
to the sd William, Rescew out of her. estate."

The "first. Thursday , of next. month" translates to. June. 6th 1650 and it |
may be inferred therefrom that. such was the. date set for the execution of
Elizabeth Johnson. That the. jailer should put in for his charges in advance
seems most unusual. Yet such was the case.

Now what.about Thomas Newton? He was evidently tried, convicted and con-
demned in absentia. That he escaped from the Fairfield jail before his con-
veyance and/or transfer. to Hartford is certain as supported by the following
entry dated July 8th 1650.

"John Banks, Edward Adams, Philip Pinkney, John Hoyt,

executed? | Sreve=teunenwepnedalmowiere, Note that she gave: birth'in prison

. Johnson enticed the; jailer, : became - pregnant by: him and. thus attempted to”

DANIEL ALLEN HEARN

George Godding of Fairfield for neglecting their
charge of Thomas Newton prisoner, are fined 20
shillings aptece which sd. fines are remitted by
the General Court 15th May 1651 as appears by the
records of that court. And Thomas Staples, for the
same with some greater aggravations, ts fined 40
shillings which sd. fine ts brought down to 20s

by the General Court the 15th May 1651 as appears
by the records of this court."

Sehenk's History of Fairfield.cites a since perished document which is
purported to have said that Newton "escaped to the Dutch". It is probably
true. -Atcany rate, he “abandoned his’ sizable holdings in’ Fairfield sometime.
late in the year 1649. His estate was sequestered by the colony and sold .
off. in that. year and the proceeds used to defray trial expenses, etc. Hence
there is enough to convince me that. Thomas Newton escaped and; was tried in
absentia at Hartford. |

To return to Elizabeth Johnson, her execution was apparently scheduled
for June 6th 1650 at: Hartford. She had previously arranged the placement
of her son in anticipation of her: death. However the matter becomes further
complicated: by: the: greenness SBETY in the General Court Records dated May
15th 1651: PaO SG. yee

"This Court grants their consent that Nathl. Rescew
should have Goodwife Johnson's child, which was born
fy ‘nese otnothesprison;s as:an:apprentice to him.tillihe ts of
ope the age of stwenty-one-years:and: that. the:sd: \Rescew: *
jena sishall have. firs hema “et aes out : Pb sie cag cata Re

Movs pitiak does chia: jhedin?: Neatly: ai year: had’ biting: aby: Had Elizabeth. beens

and: that the: child :iwas«bound:out:to no: other than the Hartford jailer! :
It.isiobviously a:different:child.than that.which> had: been apprenticed:at:'«
Stratford.; Could: it, be. that dréeading:the, fate: which: awaited’ her, -Elizabeth

escape. the death penalty: by:"pleading her*belly"? The: fact: that ‘the ohtids
was bound to the jailer would: support such a theory. But what is not so
easy to,understand is why. the support payments for the. child: should come
from.the»estate of Thomas Newton! Or was the child really Thomas Newton's,
who, having. fled, could not.:provide a home for it but:who: deeenige: 9 sonia
support;it:out of his confiscated-estate?:
The :next entry in ‘the: court: records :is dated! ‘October - 6th 1651 ‘ana rents
as follows: =. W253 b> hd usr i
ote! serrte: "Mr, Ward and:Mr. Banks sare desired to gather up
outs. andimake sale of any estate of that which was

sometimes Peter Johnson's of Fairfield and that

they shall therewith satisfy the charges of the

nursing of the child of Goody Johnson." |

We may conclude from this that Elizabeth Johnson was NOT executed on June
6th 1650. Since her child had incurred a wetnurse's bill in October of 1651,
it was by then still not ofthe. age where it was taking solid food and must
have been born only shortly before. However it must also be noted that the

OP aOR Oy eh a Oe OE Le eae LT, CRAMER TORRES PNET CT ae ve Rae oe EE Ne eT eR! Le RE OO oS MERLE EEE EMER MOO Ryn men ty

hn, white, hanged Conn, (New Haven) on
May <7, 1921.

KA
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Twenty seconds after he entered ;ago. After the body was lowered
the death chamber at Wethersfield following the pronouncement by the
at 12:03:30 standard time this Prison physician that life was ex-
morning, John Kacearauskas of this tinct, it was placed in a Wicker
ety paid with his life for the mur- | nasket coffin and taken in charge by
der of Mrs. Anna Chernack of Mil- friends in Hartford.
ford on February 1st. The hanging Hanging Apparatus Ohanged.
was one of the most expeditious A slight modification in the
ever seen. at the state prison. ‘God hanging apparatus hed heen made |
have mercy on my soul,”” were!in che week which elapsed Pe ei |
Kacearauskas’ last audible words. |the death of Wade and that of

The man never saw the death Kacearauskas, The warde "ora |

rope. He entered the death cham-!a lever eet to ‘ae ae : of an
ead bowed. praying, in| automobile to end Wade Into eter-
Fr wrth peed Oried hy a Towh mhy. This arrangement was changed
nationality. He kept his head far the hanging of the Milford mur-
bowed while the Wblack cap was/|derer. The lever was s0 arranged
placed over his head and the noose | last night that it was only necessary
adjusted. for the warden -to step upon «
The death lever was sprung at| plunger with his foot in ‘order to ,
12:03:50 and the man was declared | release the 850 pound weight |
‘dead at 12:13:15. ° which swings the doomed man aloft.
Kacearauskas walked to the spot WKacearauskas. according to the.

' beneath the rope without glancing | priest who accompanied him to the!

1un at it as did Elwood Wade, who ' as
died in the same chamber a week | 82llows, was repentent in his last

ai sin WT eae | hours and seemed a)most eager to
pay with his life for the brutal mur-
: ecgeui er with which he wag charged,
Unnamed, undated Connecticut newspaper Kacearauskas was a supposed |
article sent by Hearn. ‘friend of Joseph Chernock and his ,
i hi Anna. Often he had’ beon in-|
vited to dinner at their humble little.
cottage in Milford where he ‘pare |
took of their meat and bread, |
laugHed with their gix childron, and
often went fishing with the father
at the shore nearby. In ‘fact, "one ¢
week before the crime the two men |;
hag been on such a fishing excur- |
sion. Kacearauskas knew that |
Chernock was trying to Ve: $110 to!
pay the interest’ on the hag
'
|

hanging over the little home. He
knew that the man “and wife ex-
Pected to have the cash ready when |
the interest’ fell due. So, ald eel
ruary 1, believing that they prob- |
ably had the money in the house, |

he went from his lodging place Bs}
Bridgeport to Milford.

a ee

and approaching her he demanded
the money. She was frightened and
fled toward her doorway. The in-
truder picked up a large rock and
huried it at the woman’s head as
she ran. - Dashing after, he pre-
vented “her shutting the door, and
so she ran up the stairway to the
bedroom where ner one year old
baby lay esleep. The murderer was
at her heels. striking her with a
cobbler’s iron stand used for:«sup-
porting shoe lasts. In the house
Kacearauskas had founti a ‘short
ax and with the two instruments
repeatedly struck the woman until:
she was! dead. Fhe medical ex-
aminer found thirty-six wounds on
her head and body. ‘The cries of
the woman and baby attracted the
attention of the oldest child, a girl
of twelva years, who had returned:
from school’ shortly after the
mother fled into the house.

' The little girl ran to the bedroom,
saw an intruder. striking her
ther, and fled ‘to the’ gearest
“house. Yor assistance. She came
back with a neighbor who was
armed with a shotgun and as they
epproached Kacearauskas jumped
from 2 lower window and made for

An Inhuman Orime. _ u ; Strange; Court Scene.
Mrs. Chernock was in the yard |

_The machinery of the state work-
ed quickly, and on February 28 a
grand jury in tho superior court at
New Haven brought in a true bil.
The prisoner pleaded guilty to the
indictment, charging murder in the
first degree. Kacearauskas was
asked once by his lawyer and twice

the court if ne had anything to.
say. Sitting with fhantis in hid
‘trousers pockets he replied each
time: ‘Nothin’. at all, nothin’ at
all.” State’s Attorney Arnon Alling
offered the evidence of the . state.
and after sufficient detail had been
recorded, Judge James H: Webb
sentenced the prisoner to be- hanged
May 27 at the prison: in Wethers-
| field. The entire case was concluded
in an afternoon. Kaceatrauskas was
‘unmoved throughout the proceed-

ings, and that has been his attitude
during his stay at the prison.

In Bridgeport he wag known as
John Kelsey and was a familiar
figure in public dance halls here |
:and in the suburbs. The man has’
seemed to give no evidence of in-
| Sanity while a prisoner but has ap-
' peared. bereft of all the instincts of

i}human kind. :
{

At Wethersfield Before.

“+>

the woman and .baby attracted the
attention of the oldest child, a girl
of twelve years, who had returned:
from school. shortly after the
mother fled into the house.

The little girl ran to the bedroom,
saw an intruder striking her
mother, and fled to the gearest
Nouse for. assistance. She came
back with a neighbor who was
armed with a shotgun and as they
approached Kacearauskas jumped
from: lower window and made for
the woods. He was wearing a mask
and the child did not identify him.
The neighbor fired but missed the
fugitive. Both thought the crim-
inal @ negro, not knowing that it
was a white man masked. A posse
searched jthe woods all night with-
out result. Detective Harry Tuttle
of, New Haven deserves credit .for
the quick capture of the murderer
who. was|taken in his lodging room.
in: Bridgeport next morning. Most
of the money he had stolen from
the bedroom’ was recovered.. He
readily confessed and seemed proud
of the crime. He said the woman
“died: hard” ‘and put up quite a
fight when cornered. :

Immediately, after his drrest,
Kacearauskas was taken‘to the
scene ofithe ¢crime ant! conducted
the detectives and other officers over
the propeftty éxplaining all his ac-
‘tions of the previous day. He ap-.
parently kept hothing back, neither
did he display the slightest concern

about himself nor remorse for his
anata 4 ¥.

the woods. He was wearing a mzsk!' |

a cA. en pales
amiper found thirty-six wounds on | hen Kacearauskas arrived at
her head and body. The cries of

the prison March 1 to await his
'execution, he wag not a stranger to’
the grim walls of the goal. June:
14, 1915 he tried to kill and rob
Anthony S. Petranskas of 85 East
street, New Britain, by striking the
/latter, who was a tailor, over the
| head with a lead pipe, The victim.
of the assault reached the dresser |
Vin his room and caught up his re- |
Volver with which he shot Kacear-
auskas through the arm. Police-
men attracted by the report of the
canridge arrived quickly and .ar-
) rested the would-be, slayer. He
was sentenced to Wethersfield for!
&@ maximum of four years and |
Served’ his term. ‘Tthe motive. for
the first crime was the hoped for
theft, of money which he believed |
Petranskas hed in his possession by
virtue of his office a treasurer of 4
small organization.

HE longer I continue in law enforcement work the
more I am convinced that all cards are stacked against
the criminal.

No matter how craftily he may make his plans, no
matter how he may guard against unforeseen eventualities,
some power greater than man always seems to intervene and
upset the most carefully plotted schemes. I know I am not
alone in this belief, and that many leading investigators agree
with me.

One of my most dramatic experiences in which an act of
providence played a vital part in apprehending a criminal,
occurred while we were seeking to solve the riddle of the man
in the black mask, a mystifying robbery that took place on
the lonely outskirts of Milford, Connecticut, while I was a
county detective. .

Long before we had become concerned, fate had taken a
hand. A man, known to only a few intimates and unwanted
then for any crime, loitered near a work bench. Had he
been a second earlier or a second later, this case might never
have been solved.

But, as it happened, at the exact moment he paused near
this bench, certain unnoticed objects dropped into a pocket.
And here they y were to lie until the time when their presence
was to take on great significance to investigators.

For us the story began on an afternoon in February when
Mrs. Annie Chernock, a young and highly respected matron,
stepped from the kitchen of her farm home into a yard
flooded with sunshine, unaware that for several hours unseen
eyes had been fastened on this house on Old Gate Lane.

‘who were out at play.

on May 27, 1921,

MASTER DERECTIVE, April, 1939.

Inside the warm and cozy kitchen, a little girl, five years of
sige, watched the mother pick her way over the thin, treach-
erous ice left by the morning’s storm. Then she turned to
a near-by crib where a four-weeks-old infant lay asleep, and
her eyes shifted to a copse of leafless trees beyond the barn.
Somebody was standing behind them.

At first she thought it must be the two other children,
Then Mary saw a man’s head peer
stealthily through the snow-covered branches. His face was
completely covered by a long black mask and turned in the
direction of her mother.

The girl screamed a warning. The woman turned. She
caught sight of the strange figure and quickened her steps.
The masked form rose and ran toward her. She slipped, fell,
scrambled to her feet as he leaped forward, his fingers catch-
ing in the fur collar of her coat. She wrenched herself free.

Mary threw open the door. “Mother!” she cried.

The fleeing woman ducked inside. She pushed tight the
door, and bolted it as the man outside flung himself against
it. He hammered with his fists.

“T want your money,” he shouted. “Open up!”

The door bent under his blows, but the bolt held. Mrs.
Chernock looked quickly about her. Strengthened by fear
she dragged a heavy chest of drawers from its place and used
it as a barricade. The blows redoubled. A panel splintered
and erashed. A man’s hand reached inside and searched for
the bolt. She knocked it away. More blows. A second
panel splintered. The upper hinge broke loose and the door
toppled. Another shove and the chest fell over as the masked

—e8 re sage iy

colony was also ordering the final liquidation of the Johnson estate. This
raises the possibility that Elizabeth Johnson was executed after the birth

of her child sometime between May 15th and October 6th 1651.
We now come down to an entry dated May 20th 1652 which reads as follows:

"This Court orders that Nathl. Rescew shall

be paid five pounds more with the Goody John-
son's chtld, according to her promise to him,
he having engaged himself to maintain and
well educate her son without any further de-
mand of charges either of her:or the country."

Now what is this supposed to mean? On the surface it is simply an order
for increased child-support. But what is the reference to an alleged death-
house deal..between the condemned and the jailer? And what. about the. so- .
called "further demand of her"? Does it mean "her": or/her estate? Was’ she’
still’ alive? Or was she dead?: There are intriguing possibilities to: support
both claims but all are inconclusive. . ET 1 RROD ae aii iS aes

‘The final mention of this\ case’ is contained in a General Court entry. dated
March lst 1655 and which reads as follows: , bd ae yee

"This Court. desires Mr. Webster, Mr. Cullick, Mr.
Willis and Mr. Tailecoate to examine Mr. Ward's

account of Peter Johnson's estate and to dispose
of what is left to the mother and children as Mag
they shall judge meet."

The so-called "mother" therein. mentioned.can be noone other than the
wretched Elizabeth. Johnson, Had she: somehow been teleased from prison and
reclaimed:her:.children? .It\is.tempting ‘to: think so.-But assuming that she
had been condemned for petit treason, it is unthinkable that she would've
_ gotten off the hook. This throws us back to the question of what the nature

wasof the ‘origional’ crimes:Perhaps it was witchcraft“after all. Not every

convicted witch:was«executed jin*Connecticuts»Had»Thomas“Newton’gone upiion -
the same ‘charges? He obviously enjoyed':considerable populat.support iat home
because many meighbors::had.aihand*in allowing: him to:escape from theFair-
. field jail. It is also significant to note ‘that the arch-conspirator in:
the jailbreak scheme was Thomas Staples. --*a’man.whose wife figured so: prom-
inently inthe: notorious Fairfield witch: hunt:on' 1651-1653 and who was tried
for witchcraft ‘at Fairfield on another occasion in’ 1692.:Assuming that the
_ charges were’ indeed: witchcraft, show does one: explain the coincidental death
of Peter: Johnson in.1649 when:the:trouble started? Moreover, ‘Thomas ‘Newton
would've hardly enjoyed: popular support if he was «a murderer. Being’an . +
alleged witch though might have been different. ‘His: friends and: neighbors.
undoubtedly knew that: such: charges were ridiculous and therefore effected
his escape. But why then did he never return to claim is property:after the
storm had passed? And why would he have been denounced as a witch in the
first place if he had popular support? There areitoo many contradictions here
and too many unanswered questions. While I can safely draw conclusions in
the case of Mary Johnson, I’ durst not do so in the case of Elizabeth Johnson.

Regards,

PE a)

DUSSO,, LA-NZILLO atin Ae TAPE TERN FT

va AND PISANE ee
Haven) Gal dune 17, ae ; Whites, elec, Conn (West

Unnamed date
dumeaeions vipa bell CONNECTICUT

era sent by D. Al: agen:
Hearn. se
Assassins of Morris Goldstein |

of New Haven Hanged
Early This Morning.

————

| Camine Lanziilo, Carmine Jtisan-
liellio. both of New llaven, ae
Francesco Carboue, alins Lusso of |
New York. were Hrarmaged im the |
gtate pucson wet Wethersfield early
today. rer the miorder of Morris
Croldstein. a triber, an West Haven,
oy thie night of November Vi. |
16. Tis Was the first triple @NX- |

eeurrom on the state. Tha cee H-
on took place witht i hitelhy,
The first smi was led! into the |
“ahem bry echatmiber nat perQhia9 and the
third mayan wits pronounced dead at 4
. iT
|
|

pean ho ;

Lansille wis the first to he @NX-
ceeuted., fle was ir a steetio Of NIV. | Kus
tiat collapse and wits rowing and !

The first niven wis led into the |
room avd to the scuffold. The trap |
was sprung at 13:06214 andeae was \
pronanieed lead at Loetas |

Pisaniolo followed him and j
pwinte eatmer than Lanzillo show-
jed sins of extreme nervous tens-

i han, He entered the death eham-
pherat p2234, the trap was sprung
119 seconds later and: hes was. pros
preigced Aeadont 12:34:40,

| The third man lFrraneesco Car-
; liane, naling Pyasso AWats the most
i

{

collected of Ure three and walked
with. Little AUssistinee to the seaf-
total, Jle was led into the roam nt
pe4Or 88, the trap wits sprung at
pee4O 8 cand at peas i40 he was
pronounced dead.

—The bodies ot the three will be
Parede ad an Hartford sone time dure
jrey the aay.

Croldstein for whose murder the
pyrene men paid their lives Was
warvdard ane kilied us the result of
su pylest rormed fy the three men CxX-
cepted) and two others ta rob him,
And Pe Viet in Wees hit over the
i tyesel wally a laced and shot
latory wired he resisted the attack
TAN Tydecdy ANdss ryriveder ayy the street mene
yriss Hane Tho other ctwo pen
Ceotmeerbhnedd abe Lothiaet Lanvzilla,
Ldypother of Carrie ane now under
HVite rentenen al the yprsan, and
taeyerydnye Phat tiata. who ws serving &
beeptoncee OF foam three to fifteen
years far His quarfom the ooripye “|

+ ee

er er eee

a ee er ea ca a ea edge
: w oso “ath ane

"relever cops—we went toa
fe = school to learn to outsmart
~ you,” boasted Cy killers

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Then the man of many aliases seemed
to have disappeared from the face of
the earth for the next three months.

On December 4, the Sixth Branch
Detective Bureau of the New York
Police Department at Brooklyn
learned from an informer that a man
named Frank Dusso they arrested the
day before in connection with some
trouble over a woman in Philadelphia
might be wanted for the West Haven
murder.

Detective Bernard Grottano noted
this information with keen interest.
While most leads received in this
fashion were fruitless, this seemed to
ring true. ‘‘Where is this man?’’
Grottano asked.

“*He’s sitting in the office right at
this minute. He’s the one in the end
chair.’’ The detective walked over to
where the man was sitting.

‘What is your name?”’ he asked.

The prisoner replied that he had
been arrested as Frank Dusso, then
added unexpectedly that his real name
was Peter Manganaro. The detective
pulled up the man’s coat sleeves and
stared at the tattoo marks.

“Any proof that’s your real name?’’
‘Best in the world,’’ came the

response. ‘‘The United States govern-
ment.’’

‘‘How’s that?’’

““My draft card,’’ came the reply.
The prisoner reached in his pocket and
drew it out. The card appeared in good
order.

“So you come from Waterbury,
Connecticut,’’ the officer observed.

‘*That’s right.’’

Grottano went into a private office
and called Gianelli on the telephone.
““We’re holding a man here at the
detective bureau in Brooklyn who says
he’s Peter Manganaro of Waterbury,
Connecticut. He has a draft card to
prove this but I also noticed he has
tattoo marks on his arms which
correspond with those of a killer
mentioned in a wanted poster sent us
more than a year ago. This was in
connection with a victim named
Goldstein. Are you interested?’’ the
New York detective wanted to know.

“*You bet I am,’’ the New Haven
detective replied. ‘‘Hold him. I’m on
my way.”’

Gianelli walked into the Brooklyn
detective bureau that evening with
several other men. They were witnesses
who could identify the fugitive, but

there was one man he did not intro-
duce.

When he was confronted with the
prisoner, Gianelli asked the man who
he was. ‘‘Peter Manganaro,”’ came the
quick reply. .

‘Oh, no, you’re not,”’ the unintro-
duced man broke in ‘‘I am Peter
Manganaro and I was your friend in
Waterbury.”’

‘*I never saw you before,’’ the
prisoner retorted. ‘‘I can prove who I
am. Here’s my draft card.’

“‘My draft card, you mean,”’ the real
Peter Manganaro retorted. ‘‘You stole
that from me when I came to visit you
some months ago. I’ve been in hot
water ever since.’’

Later, in a lineup, the other New
Haven witnesses picked out Dusso as
the long-sought ‘‘Frank.’’ He waived
extradition and was returned to New
Haven where other witnesses identified
him.

Frank Dusso went on trial in New
Haven on Wednesday, Jan. 16, 1918,
before Superior Court Judge William
L. Bennett. His former colleagues
testified against him and he was found
guilty. All appeals were refused and
Dusso, Carl Lanzillo, and Pisanielli
ascended the gallows. x

New England’s ‘College Of Crime’

(continued from page 58)

M. Picket appeared for the state. Carl
Lanzillo was represented by R. Ierardi,
Louis by Samuel E. Hoyt, and Pisa-
nielli by Kenneth Wayne. All three
were found guilty. Carl Lanzillo and
Pisanielli were sentenced to be hanged
and Louis Lanzillo was sentenced to
life.

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Carmelo Battiata was found guilty
of manslaughter on April 6, 1917, and
sentenced to 15 years at State Prison
in Weathersfield. America awoke the
next day to find she was at war with
Germany.

Only Frank remained to be appre-
hended. At the Napoli Hotel police
learned that Frank had a bust of a
woman tattooed on his right arm. She
was wearing a sailor’s hat. The left arm
was decorated with a heart featuring a
stiletto on the bottom. This informa-
tion was included in wanted posters
sent worldwide.

Deskin learned from Louis Lanzillo
that Louis once went to Brooklyn to
locate Frank, who was working as a
longshoreman and lived on High
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accompanied by Lewis, Deskin visited
sections known to be frequented by
Frank. The search was unsuccessful.

Gianelli remembered that among the
articles left at the hotel by Frank was
a prescription filled by the Waterbury
Drug Company of Waterbury, Con-
necticut. Visiting the store, he was
shown the original prescription. It was
issued to a Dominick Macello.

Checking through the records of the
prescribing physician, Gianelli visited
the home address of the patient.
Discreet inquiries indicated this was the
elusive ‘‘Frank.’’ Frank had come to
this address for a few days following
the murder, remained for several
weeks, and then left for Marcus Hook,
Pennsylvania where, he told friends,
he planned to work for a chemical
company.

The detective followed the trail to
Marcus Hook and learned the fugitive
secured employment with the General
Chemical Company under the name
of Dominick Macello. In August,
1917, he enlisted under that name with
the Sixth Regiment, Company F,
camped at Chester. On September 10,
the day before the regiment left for
an unknown destination, he deserted.

(continued on next page)

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PO Box 353 Victoria Station. Montreal. Can H3Z 2V8

Sehr Fi e/towe., December LO, LIL9.

-|| death chamber he’ was jerk:
va;;|| Bternity at the end of: a naw’

Not a yon off well ‘dja ' the,
utter; rather his lips moved in; pryer »
when 87 seconds after he’ enife th SL >

Bae

yite|| ope. which he did ngb see,» va va
| Faintly _ At te Even more. ra at fast ¢ = ;
‘a e| Aeath he caused

jaway today in a, cay aa

1 plen, tor
cata! Dien, 98

nesses Before Ho id

Is Adjusted—Deatit:
Comes Quickly ‘=~
Body Is Buried N ei a

5 Barrie
4s

any ge "ay

mde

Bese “D tra te -
‘worldly shell of John any ae
old gangster. and oimaansy oath

Y adit
aft

Mount St. Benedict's
North ‘Hartford; He ta. burldd’
same ground where ‘yosted. tne”

Gerald 8..Cheaman, notorious, paste ike

x
elgie a
kati “a PA) Gootors ‘and

a frustrated Poldu

H iantly \ighted’. ‘death :
il vic pu dead; Jacova:
that aftor @ byrert tha
peart gn that qvantty

98rd fe
File at Piisanerst eas

anol atroke, ¢ i
long. pre sion of “prison,

T ae

rth trie

Pe pnrough hea ateo! Goora? + aie es
the newly constructed and t ‘

\ly decorated chapel: through ‘Jor

whose life the youth emulated. |, ns: aces with cella Om Gach side the ia
Feltovic early today paid wita: ae a (ror wound. I Up 6 aia of tat
life for the murder’ of, Lauter: yi, ||and down another until entrar.
89, of 3183 Mati. strest,. aban ster ey had poteden the wide uber eo
snétinger.|He waa panged ih the eat || “Quickly and withont word | es i
chamber Ae weinerennee Ss ey " ak: Hesees wate oeated:. r tured r ees
Shle morn Reta nohes facing. the door foh ‘they.
"Nerve Stood By Bim. - “AGRE | Raa ehortly Watore entered. The lw
‘In. death hie dieplayed oe a hum of murmurings, and the ndis Fo

of oer tat, eolanay joebar th
presen

and ;which deserted . nin | '¢

'Thureday wher he «

State, Board of |

eet

ae i *|| feet. scraping on the cement i

‘ ie Me place in the rear corner of the’

the gray walled death’ o a
halted in expectancy of the ; ne ‘|
of the condemned youth, we egy
‘Priest Accompanies Yauth
Warden Charles R.° Reed took ¢

acing the door. At exactly five Siltie’
utes and 16 seconds after miduiey
Feltovic, with the arms and | W

getennes to his aide,. entered =k ee i
itwo hysky . deputies. Rev. J * ai
|George M. Grady, Catholic | chapiaiy
at the prison, was at the fe SG

side whispering words pons
end praycr into his ear. The §
whispered Answers were not dist
the witnesses. . mats) |
He was dressed in a black suit ‘witli:
vest, the later rather unusual. He_
wore a white shirt, sans t!e, and his
feet were incased in the regulation

prison shoe with felt sole. His face
was Sallow.

Father Gracy with one arm about
the youth's waist and the other hand
on his shoulder whispered to Feltovio
and he inclined his head towards the
priest as though to hear better.

Looks at Mark on Floor.

Halted by the deputies, after three
short steps, Feltovic made , as if to
turn and was guided to the location
of the mark on the floor. He was evi-
dently interested in this for he ctrop-|
ped his head and )ifted it again for a
brief second.

Hood Placed Over Head

In a twinkling, two other deputies
stepped forward and motioned the.
youth to a spot on the floor. Feltovic.
had had just an opportupity: to cast
his eyes with half a smMe over the
faces of the gathering when the black;
hood was placed over his head and the
noose which he did not see adjusted’
around his neck.

As he entered the death chamber.
the noose was suspended from a hook:
at the aside of the door. As the noose.
was being adjusted, by the deputies
who brought him into the chamber,:
the second an was quickly adjusting:
straps about his ankles and his knees.

The deputies stepped back, Warden
Reed pressed his foot on a plunger set
in the floor. A dull thud and Feltovic
was jerked five feet into the air. a
drop and there he was suspended with
a few inches from the floor, his knees
perking upward snd his right_hand
clutching at the black coat. The straps
were removed from his legs after a
few moments, which seemed as hours’
to the witnesses, and he kicked his|
feet and jerked hig kneés upward
much in the fashion of a runner mak-
ing his great effort,

Death Comeg Quickly

A few sobs sounding much Ike
water bolling over a more convulsive
twitching of the body this time the
shoulders and then a gradual qulet,.
Dr. Alwin H. Cranz, prison doctor,
atepped “over to the body and the
youth's coat and vest and shirt were
opened to allow the doctor to place his
stethoscope againat the left breast.

A cursory examination and Dr. Cranz
stepped back. The twitching of the legs
was resumed with a weakening kick
of the right foot. Another wait and Dr.
,Cranz stepped forwerd again. Another

PAL |
deg >!
ba q

5h ota

(j/ examination and he stepped back
‘| again, This time Dr. Edward G. Fox,
‘|| medical examiner of

the Town of

|} Wethersfield stepped forward and con-
} ferred with Dr. Cranz.

| Dr. Cranz again examined. He stepped
} back and nodded his head to Dr. Fox |:
|) who took his stethoscope and for the

fs heres

Hartford and his assjstant. The body

‘benches, it could” be seen that a red

| warden who from his actions does not

A wait of a few minutes more and

first time placed it against the youth's
body which had by this time stopped
all jerking and twitching. |
Body Placed In Basket j

A nod to a deputy warden and a side
door was opened and a full length
wicker basket with khaki cover was
carried in by Undertaker Dillon of

was lowered into the basket feet first
and covered with a white sheet reach-
ing as far as the neck. Two of the
deputies busied themselves with the
removal of the noose and returned it
to the hook. The black hood was then
slipped off and Feltovic’s face exposed
tc view. f

The usual white of his countenance
had been restored and on his right
cheek, visible {rom the spectators

spot about the size of a silver dollar
had grown. The white sheet then was
placed over all of the body; the bas-
ket covered and carried out.
Praises Efficiency of Machine

Back through the prison to the war-
den‘s Office the procession of witnesses
trooped, A hearty handshake from the

relish the demands made upon him
in this respect. He ts a veteran of ths
prison system of Washington and has
performed executions in that state.

There however hanging is done tn
the older manner of the trap. Warden
Reed praised the system of this state
and lauded the efficiency of the death
dealing machine. It was his first exe-
cution at the prison here and the
fourth in the new death chamber.
Chapman was the first.

FPeltovic was visited during his last
day by his brother, George, his father,
John W. and Rev. Father Andrew E.
Komara, of 8t. John’s Nep. R, C.
church of this city. There people visit-
ed in the morning and again in the
afternoon when they were joined by |
Feltovic’s sister, Mrs. Kenneth Ward
of this city and her husband. Last
farewells were exchanged shortly after
two o'clock.

Father Grady. spent most of the day
with Feltovic, leaving him only while
he partook of meals from the offi-
cers’ mess and not specially ordered.

For dinner Feltovic had pea soup,
roast beef, baked potato, string beans.
tapioca pudding. coffee and = white
bread. For supper the menu was Ham-
burg steak, fried onions, Prench fried
potatoes, ginger bread, rhubarb sauce
and coffee. He ate sparingly of both
meals, returning his plate partly filled.

HenMaN, Alexander, white, hanted Conn, (Fairfield)) 5-10-1907

HERMANN DAZED AS HE
SiEPPED UPON SCAFFOL

Hanged at ' State Prison this
Morning—Left Letters for |
; His Parents, -

. A-

‘Alexandeér ~ Hermann, murderer. ‘of:
Martin ‘Korzinsky, was executed :.at
four minutes after midnight {this
morning jn the state prison at Weth-
ersfield. Hermann made no demon. :
stration and in fact seemed dazed anil

unable - to: realize lly what. waa
transpiring | “about - hi Accomp
ied by the prison guards and. Pathe 5
Duggan and Lozowsk! of Hartford;
the condenmed man ‘walked from th¢
death ° chamber to ‘the gallows. ~ si.)
had. «previously ; partaken .of ‘the: Jas
rites’ of ‘the macht Whe} he ‘reverently
Kisse(t- fhe, eiug iftx ha 16a ‘wben thet
‘gallows, | :
* ‘Phere. wan Hos ito’ ta ithe paeneene
ings: and . ‘Hermann safi rot\a wond,
his geo femiaining .- sealed, eee
throng or, from .choice.:: .
m utes past U2 o* clocks, erinann :
rondunced' dead. The -execution.) ipa
bach performed in the presence 0
persons, comprising. the Sloreymens:
prison/ofipials: and newspapermen.. ;';
; The condemned man; wrote two’ Tete, q
‘tars to. his: yarents'in. ‘Russia | ‘Pole 4
shortly . before ‘his . ‘execution.
‘remains’. were “interred “in, “ae “Bhi,
‘AM cemetery: at. ‘Hartford. - ¥ Ae ate
‘ : ss At ex]

Unmamed and undated C
| a ate Oonnecticut newspaper ar Ss
Daniel Allen Hearn, ie op vanee eene by

PF ry aa

a ae |

HERMAN, Alexander, white, hanged Conn. SP (Fairfield) on May 10,

‘Martin Korzinski, was out to celebrate the
fs Fourth when murder dampened the cheer.

by GEORGE LAVORATO

Alexandar Herman figured one more shot
would pass unnoticed, but he was wrong.

ridgeport, Conn., that day was like a city at war. From dawn until after midnight, can-

non boomed, guns fired and the sky was splattered with exploding fireworks. But it
was only the Fourth of July in an era (the year was 1906) that celebrated the holiday

with unrestrained enthusiasm.

--But alone:amid the blasts of giant
firecrackers and roar of blank car-
tridges was one carefully aimed live
bullet that entered the right breast of
Martin Korzinski, killing him almost
instantly.

‘There was no small irony in the
fact that Martin Korzinski died on the
Fourth of July. Since emigrating from
Poland ten years before, he had often
marvelled at how good America had
been to him. His skill as a foundry-
man had brought him high wages and
advancement to a supervisory level.

) Three years after his arrival in the
States, he had acquired a wife, He-
len, a dark, stunningly pretty. girl,
who had come to this country from
Poland as a child. He had money in

Amid

all the cheering,

A CRIME
CLASSIC

the bank, comparative youth (he was
only 35) a comfortable apartment—
and the best of prospects. At least, so
he thought. on

In view of all this, Martin
Korzinski had felt it fitting and proper
to mark the holiday with appropriate
ceremony—and refreshment. As a
matter of fact, he was returning from
a nearby bar with two bottles of

. champagne in his arms when he was

shot down in the doorway of‘ the
building in which he lived at bb Clin-
ton Street.

A ‘later reconstruction of events

showed that Korzinski lay in the.

doorway for a full ten minutes before
anyone realized what had happened.
Mrs. Gertrude Mulley, who lived
across the street at No. 20, was sub-
sequently to tell the police:

“I was sitting in my front window
when it happened. The time was five
minutes to eleven and I was about to
go to bed. I heard a shot. When I
looked up, I saw Mr. Korzinski stag-
ger, then fall in the doorway,. but I
didn’t connect the two.

“After all, people had been firing

a few screams

1907555

——

(Unidentified
Allen Hearn,

GURSKI., E 25
GURS , Peter, white, 25, elec, Conn. (Litchfield) 2-28-194
; Kes is ) 3 eee

Peter Gurski Is Executed
for Slaying Retired Teacher

WETHERSFIELD, Feb. 24. |
(AP) A Terryville mechanic paid |
with his life last night for the rape-,
slaying of Miss Ellen Bourke, 66-|
year-old retired Thomaston school |
teacher.

Peter Gurski, 25, went quietly to
the death chamber and became the
fifth man to die in Connecticut’s
electric chair—the 60th person to
| pay the penalty for first degree

—

| Comley

murder at the state's prison.
Described by Warden Ralph H.
Walker as “a good prisoner who
has given us no trouble,” Gurski'
walked into the death chamber at
10:05 p.m. and six minutes later
was pronounced dead by Medical
Examiner Harold A. Howard and

Dr. Foster E. Priddy, prison
physician.

A Superior court jury convicted
Gurski of the first degree murder
of the retired teacher, supporting
the state’s claim that he followed

her along a road in Terryville,

after she fad missed a8 bus, July 1.
1942, forced her into a wooded secc-
tion, criminally assaulted and killed
her.

Superior Court Judge William H.
imposed the mandatory
death sentence on Gurski, after the
jury returnéad the first degree mur-
der verdict... They deliberated 11
hours. .

The state introduced as evidence
a confession by Gurski that he as-
saulted her.

The accused denied the confes-
sion at the trial.

The Board of Pardons last week
denied his plea for clemency.

He entered the death chamber
last night accompanied by the Rev.
Thomes Londregan, prison chap-
lain, with whom he spent much of
his time while in prison.

The body was claimed by his
family and taken to the Scott fun-
eral home, Terryville. Funeral ar-
rangements are incomplete.

undated © 2cti
=) . Vonnecticut newspaper, sent by Dani
Ss aniel

HE RAN

TO THE CHAIR

ER face contorted, the dead

woman sprawled on her back in
the lonely woods road 30 feet off Route
6, midway between the Towns of
Terryville and Thomaston.

Dr, Richard J. Lawton, medical ex-
aminer, concluded his preliminary
examination by the harsh glare of the
police flood-lamps. The woman, he
announced, had been strangled ap-
proximately two hours earlier.

It was crowding 3 in the morning
of June 30, 1942. That would fix the

‘time of the brutal murder at shortly

after midnight.

Col. Edward J. Hickey, famous com-
missioner of the Connecticut State
Police, stared grimly at the woman,
whose arms were outflung in final
agony. She had been identifted by the
local constabulary as Miss Nellie
Bourke, an elderly resident of Thomas-
ton and a retired. school teacher.

Hickey ordered a search to be made
of the immediate area. Troopers
quickly discovered a set of false teeth,
a pair of silver-rimmed eyeglasses, a
woman’s hat and handbag, a package
of cigarets, and a-man’s red pocket-
comb—all these articles scattered
along the woods road.

OT much on which to launch a

man-hunt. The teeth, handbag,
glasses and hat obviously belonged to
the dead Nellie Bourke. Almost as ob-
viously, the comb and cigarets were
the property of the killer.

No tire marks were found on the
woods road, and Hickey was led to the
conclusion that both killer and victim
had arrived at the scene on foot. The
scattered articles indicated that Nellie
Bourke, despite her advanced age, had
put up a valiant fight for her life: that
she had been dragged into the wooded
area by the murderer,

“He must have followed her along
the highway until they reached this
spot,” said Hickey. “There are houses
at the foot of the hill, toward Terry-
ville. We'll question the occupants.”

Troopers brought several persons to
the scene. All had heard screams
shortly aftcr midnight. Subsequent in-
vestigation had bared the murder.

One witness, Mrs. James Duff, hada
trifle more to offer. She reported see-
ing a man and woman on the highway
a few minutes before the screams
sounded from the top of the hill,

“T was looking out the window,” she
said, “when I saw a woman, walking
very fast, go up the highway in the
direction of Thomaston. A man, also
walking fast, was behind her.”

Hickey, questioning her further,
finally elicited the information that the
woman had broken into a run and that
the mysterious man had run after her.

“And I did notice that the man ran
with a sort of hopping gait,” Mrs.
Duff added.

A “hopping gait.” The stocky, gray-
haired commissioner carefully tucked
that information away in his memory.

At dawn, Hickey ordered his men to
search the area for the second time.

Some infinitesimal clue might haye
been overlooked in the darkness. His
persistence paid off handsomely. An
unopened pint bottle of cheap whiskey
was found in the tall grass.

Lt. Frank V. Chameroy, identifica-
tion expert, dusted the bottle for
fingerprints, but the examination was
negative, Still, to Hickey, the whiskey
constituted a lead. :

“It's not a popular brand,” he ex-
plained. “We know the killer followed
the woman from Terryville. He might
have purchased it there last night.

A checkup on the Terryville liquor
stores followed. Two establishments
did not neh that particular brand.

The third di

Yes, said the clerk, he recalled sell-
ing three pints ree f the previous eve-
ning. He supplied police with the
names of the thrée customers.

Two of the suspects were quickl
rounded up and questioned. They ad-
mitted purchasing the whiskey, but
denied being involved in the murder,

The third suspect, 25-year-old Peter
Gurski of Plymouth, was located and
brought to the scene late that after-
noon,

The bushy-haired, pock-marked
youth acknowledged the whiskey pur-
chase, but insisted it was not his bottle
that had been found on the scene.

“I wasn’t seen around here,” he said
confidently, “You've got nothing on
me,”

He was right. The police hadn't.

But Hickey had his ace. “Run,” he
ordered,

Gurski stared at him incredulously.
“Rune”

“That’s what I said,” nodded
seh “Run.”

With a smirk, Gurski ran—and he
ran with a peculiar “hopping gait.”

“What's the matter?” asked Hickey.

“I sprained my ankle a couple of
days ago,” explained Gurski.

“You're the killer,” snapped Hickey.
“You were seen chasing Nellie Bourke
along the highway before the murder.
You were seen limping as you ran,”

Gurski blanched, then cracked. He
confessed following Nellie Bourke
from Terryville and then dragging her
ae the woods, where he meant to rob

er.

“She fought and screamed, so I put
my hands around her neck and
squeezed,” he said simply. “Then she
was dead.”

Gurski was executed at the Connect-
icut State Prison in Wethersfield on
February 20, 1943.

Literally, he had run to the chair.

—By Joseph DeBona

be wlad to take him on, but Bostwick
asked for more money than the boss
wanted to pay. They had quite an argu-
ment, and Bostwick came back two or
three times. I haven't seen him lately.

“T heard him tell the boss, the last time
he was here, that he’d be sorry. As he
went out the door he made a remark
about telling Mrs. Ledbetter something.”

Sweatt glanced at him sharply. “You're
sure about that?”

The man nodded.

“Come on.” The sheriff tugged at Grif-
fin’s sleeve, “We're going to do three
things pronto. We’re going to find out if
that second gun is still in Ledbetter’s
house. We're going to find out if Mrs.
Ledbetter knows anything about the
money, and finally we’re going to hunt
up Harry Bostwick.”

By now it was evening, and Mrs. Led-
better was cooking dinner when they
arrived. Again she answered their ques-
tions with complete candor and without
hesitation. She did not know why her
former husband had been carrying that

.much money when he was killed. She did

not know where he kept his gun, and she
eon talked with anyone named Bost-
wick,

“Well, we'll see what he has to say,”
Sweatt said as he sped across town to the
house where Bostwick lived.

But the officers were doomed to dis-
appointment. The landlady at Bostwick’'s
rooming house said that her lodger had
left the previous Saturday to look for
work in Atlanta.
othe officers hurried back to the sher-
iff’s office and telephoned Atlanta authori-
ties to pick up Bostwick on suspicion.

C, RIFFIN was waiting for his superior
in the office when the latter arrived
next morning,

“T've got news,” he said, “but it doesn’t
help us much. This morning I phoned the
cashier of the bank where Ledbetter has
his account. He said Ledbetter drew the
money Saturday with the intention of
buying some Property south of here.
That's the direction in which he was
headed on Sunday when he stopped by
the roadside and was killed,”

The sheriff sat down heavily in his
swivel chair, “Well, I guess that takes
care of the blackmail theory. Still, I won-
der what was worrying Mrs. Jones?”

“T don’t know about that,” Griffin re-
plied. “But I wired one of her relatives
and learned that the young fellow who
called on her a couple of times last week
was an old friend of the family.”

Sweatt sighed. “So it looks like our
grudge theory is washed up. Bostwick
will have a perfect alibi if he was out of
town,”

Griffin nodded. “Which leaves us with
one poles suspect—who’s about as
tangible as a ghost.”

“You mean the phantom hunter—the
Yankee who didn’t talk like a Yankee?”
Sweatt groaned. “Not much chance of
finding him!”

Griffin unwrapped a stick of gum and
chewed thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure.
I’ve got an idea.” He rose and put on his
hat. “I'll phone you in a few minutes.”

A quarter of an hour passed before the
sheriff's telephone rang.

“T’m at the hotel down the street,” said
Griffin. “I think I’ve got some important
information, Call Sheriff Hall and have
him bring those two Carnes boys to the
office. I'll be back by the time he gets
there,”

Half an hour later Griffin walked in
to find Joey and David Carnes seated
with Hall ip the sheriff's office.

a
“TT \“
kee
was

“Bp

“Ny
more

ent

ere amr Se tg «

Waterton

ine Kiddie oi the

“My wife,” he repeated over and over again. Later we
brought him upstairs. He went to the ransacked closet, lifted

a loose board and pulled out an empty tobacco can.

“It is as I thought,” he said sadly. “They killed my wife
for $100.”

He told us that they had been saving to meet the mortgage
interest due on Thursday. The week before they had saved
$75, which they had hidden in this tin. On the previous night,
Monday, he had brought home his week’s pay and had given
it to his wife. .

“Thirty-five dollars and seventy-five cents I gave her,”
Chernock said. “She took it to the tin box and put it away.
Now they kill her for it.”

We took him to Police Headquarters for further question-
ing. Coroner Mix showed him the woman’s empty pocket-
book. He identified it as one belonging to his wife, and said
there had been three or four dollars in it when he left for
work that morning. We brought out the overcoat found by
Fowler a short time before. The husband could not remem-
ber seeing it worn by any one he knew. Nor could he name
au single suspect.

“Do you have any friends in Bridgeport who might be re-
sponsible?” I asked. ;

“IT can think of no man who would do this thing,” he re-
plied, puzzled. “Nobody knew we kept money in the house.
We always pulled down the curtains before we took the tin
from its hiding place.”

Unable to learn anything, the Coroner sent him home. We
checked on the facts of his story and found them correct in
every particular.

The fugitive had completely dropped from sight. Several
suspects, held on suspicion by police guarding highways and
filling stations, were questioned and released. Maher ordered
fresh details to guard the ice-bound roads. Captain Fowler
returned to Headquarters soon after eleven o’clock with more
disheartening information.

He said the posse had finally succeeded in picking up the
murderer’s trail. They followed it north through the woods
for more than a mile and a half, then the fugitive climbed the
railroad embankment. The footprints vanished and did not
again appear.

Once more we had been blocked. Aside from the black

wean oun ithe blaek

Acting Captain James H. Bray, of
Bridgeport (above). As a Lieu-
tenant, he cooperated with Mil-
ford police in trapping the killer

Sergeant Henry J. Gallbronner
(left), of Milford, now in charge
of the Identification Bureau, who
ably assisted in the search

Captain Clarence Douglass
(right), who took part in the
hunt for the slayer, brought to jus-
tice after a brilliant investigation

Mask 39

and white checkered cap I saw no way whereby the crafty
killer could be identified. The case stood temporarily at a
dead-end, and I persuaded Coroner Mix to return home,
promising to call him if anything important developed.

Back im Maher’s office we again reviewed the: startling
events of the afternoon. We were frankly discouraged. Our
only hope lay in the fact that no one had yet committed the
perfect crime. Always some telltale clue is left behind which
leads to eventual apprehension; or else some break, termed
as “lucky” by those not in the know, but usually the result
of tireless perserverance, leads to the guilty.

But this killing had us baffled. We learned nothing from

the bloodstained Bridgeport newspaper. All of us had
looked over the overcoat at least a dozen times. It was the
only tangible clue we had left.

I took this garment and slipped from the Superintendent’s
office into the darkened courtroom. There I turned on the
lamp on the clerk’s desk and spread the overcoat out before
me. I went through the pockets one by one, examining them
carefully. Then I turned them out. In the one on the
right-hand side I discovered a slight rip. I made the open-
ing larger and pushed my finger through. Down in the
lower corner of the coat, between the lining and the cloth,
I detected a slight wadding which was not lint. I slit the lining,
held the garment over the blotter and shook it gently.

I was totally unprepared for what followed. A miniature
snow flurry of tiny multi-colored disks fluttered down upon
the desk—small, shiny, red, green, orange, blue and purple
thin paper wafers. I separated them and spread them out
before me, noting that they were all a uniform size of quarter-
inch diameter. My first surprised reaction was that they
were pieces of confetti.

I called to Maher and showed him my discovery, telling
him to get hold of Joseph Chernock and bring him back here
as soon as possible. I was beginning to see light. The Super-
intendent hesitated. His eyes strayed to the large clock in
the rear of the courtroom. It was long after one a. M.

“If things are as they appear, there’s no time to lose,” I
added.

Captain Fowler drove out to Old Gate Lane. When he
returned, Chernock was with him. (Continued on page59)

april, 1939

The Riddle of the Man |
in the Black Mask

(Continued from page 39)

The man’s haggard face showed he had
not slept.

“Listen, Joseph,” I began earnestly, “if
you are willing to help, I think I ean tell
you who killed your wife.”

“Willing to help,” he replied. “I would
give my life to get the man who killed
my wife.”

“Then listen carefully. Whom have you
entertained recently that has been to a
wedding or got married?”

He thought for a moment, then shook
his head.

“Perhaps you have had guests who were
going to some party or celebration where
they might be using confetti like this.”

As I spoke I allowed the tiny multi-col-
ored disks to slip through my fingers to
the desk. He gazed at them in open-eyed
astonishment.

“That’s not confetti!” he exclaimed.
“Those are dial punctures off phonograph
records. They come from the place where
I work.”

APIDLY he explained that the colored

circular labels bearing phonographic
titles, artists’ names and trademarks, are
pasted intact upon each record when
manufactured. Later these records are
punched so that they can slip through
the playing shaft, which extends above the
cloth-covered disk platform on all talk-
ing machines. The small confetti-like
wafers were discarded with other refuse.
In mysterious fashion some of them had
found their way into the lining of this
coat.

“Has any man been at your house lately
from the phonograph company?” I asked.

“Yes, there has,” the husband admitted.
“One came to see me last Saturday. We
went fishing in the creek near the house
and he stayed to dinner. We have been
friends and I remember saying that we
had got the money to meet. the mortgage
interest.” An expression of unbelief
flashed across his face. “But he wouldn’t
rob me. He isn’t poor. Last Saturday he
gave each of my children a dollar to spend
for anything they wanted.”

“Nevertheless he’ll stand investigating,”
I said sternly, “What’s his name?”

The man’s face fell.

“I can’t remember,” he said. “I only
know that he works in the factory.”

“Who would know?”

“The shop foreman,” he answered. “We
can go to the factory when it opens and
you can talk to him. He’ll know where he
lives.”

“We are nol going to wait that long.”
I told him. “We are going to Bridgeport
right away. You're taking me to the home
of that foreman.”

Thirty minutes later, speeding through
Bridgeport’s deserted streets, we drew up
before Police Headquarters. We left Cher-
nock in the guard room while Maher and
I talked with Lieutenant James H. Bray,
now Captain, and one of New England’s
most able investigators. He at once as-
signed Detective Sergeants Herbert Wash-
burn and Frank Holbrook to assist us in
every way possible.

“Now take us to the home of that fore-
man,” I told the husband.

Back in the police ear he gave us quick
directions. We drove out of the business
district and into one of the residential sec-
tions. At a word from Chernock we
turned down a side street.

“Tt’s the third house down on the right.”

he told us. We stopped in front, Wash- |

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burn and Holbrook went up the steps to
arouse the sleeping household. As we sat
In the ear wailing, the clocks of Bridge-
port struck three. Some few minutes later,
the foreman came downstairs and we ex-
plained our errand.

“fT know whom you mean,” he said:
“Calls himself John Kelsey, but Tim not
sure that’s his mght name. He Ieft our
employment three weeks ago.”

“Where does he hve?” asked Washburn.

“Down on Organ Sireet. I know the
house, but not the number.”

“Then take us there.”

The foreman dressed hurriedly and we
piled into our machines. We reached the
street, turned in and drove along slowly.
He pointed out a small duplex house.

“That’s the place,” he stated. “He lives
on the farther side.”

Washburn and I remained in the shad-
ows while Maher and Holbrook ascended
the steps. The others remained in the
car. Holbrook banged loudly on the door.
Lights flashed on in the hall and I saw
an attractive woman open the door.

“Police Headquarters.” announced Hol-
brook. flashing his badge. “Does John
Ixelsev live here?”

“He's one of my lodgers,” I heard the
woman say. “But he’s in bed and asleep.”

HEY entered, and the door closed.

Minutes passed and they did not re-
turn. A hight came on in an upper cham-
ber. I waited another five minutes. Then
I told Washburn I was going in to see
What had happened,

“You mean we're both going in,” the Ser-
geant replied.

The front door was unlocked. We en-
tered and went up the stairs. Pushing
open the door of the lighted room. I saw
a voung. powerfully built man-sitting par-
tially dressed upon a disordered bed. Hol-
brook and Maher stood covering him with
drawn guns.

Across the lower part of the prisoner’s
face, about his neck and on his hands
were fresh abrasions.

“Where did you get those scratches?” I
asked.

“T was out coasting tonight.” he ex-
plained. “The double-runner tipped over
and I fell off.”

Maher crossed to the open closet.

“Take a look at this suit coat, Tuttle.”
he said, bringing it out for my inspec-
tion. The front was bloodstained.

“Did you hurt, yourself that badly?” I
questioned. He did not reply.

A torn outer shirt hung from a closet
hook. I saw that it had dark stains on it,
and the right cuff was missing.

~“Where’s the cuff to this shirt?” I asked.

He said that it had been ripped off
when the double-runner tipped over. But
his eyes shifted nervously to the waste-
basket. Digging beneath some papers I
brought out a stained cuff. IT asked him
where the rest of the clothes were. He
told me they were down in the kitchen,
drying.

I went downstairs. Behind the stove
{ found a pair of trousers and a crumpled
black - and white checkered cap. | The
landlady appeared while I was examin-
ing them. She gave me her name as
Margaret Carr, and stated that Kelsey had
roomed with her here at 108 Organ Street
for more than a vear. She said he had
left the house that morning about ten
o'clock, wearing his long brown overcoat,
When he returned he had no overcoat.
and a red-spotted gray scarf was tied about
his neck. The knees of his trousers were
torn. the bottoms wet. His shoes were
soaked through and there were scratches
on his hands and face. He borrowed some
vaseline to put on these wounds, which he

. lon hie {

od had OOTY + vt

Master Detective
olf the double-rupner near Ash Creek.

“Oh, ves,” she continued, “he took some
money from his pocket and gave me a
$10 bill on account.”

[ brought Chernock and the factory fore-
man.up to the man’s room. They iden-
tified the prisoner J asked him what had
become of his Overcoat,

“Never owned one,” he replied.

“There's no use |ving any further,” I
said bluntly. “Where’s that money you
stole in Milford vexsterday afternoon?”

He began to bluster. He had not been
in Milford. He hnew nothing about any
robbery.

“Or murder, either. [ stuppose.”

“No, no, no!” Le shouted.

“Youre going back to Milford.” I told
him. “A hundred armed men have been
searching for you since yesterday after-
noon. When they learn vou’re back in
town, you may find it’s too late to talk.
Where's that money?”

Fora moment he hesitated. He glanced
over at his former friend. the dead wo-
man’s husband, whose eyes shone with a
burning hate. A coward at heart, he
wilted.

“The money is under that corner of
the carpet.”

I walked over to the spot indicated,
threw back the flap and discovered two
$20 bills. Under pressure he produced
more money he had hidden beneath the
bed quilt. and there were other bills be-
neath a rug by the washstand. I initialed
them for future identification, and put
them in an envelope. We recovered
$84.06. The rest. he said, he had spent.

“Why did you kil that woman?” I
asked sternly. .

“Tt was either her life or mine,” he
replied, “I had to do it.”

He would sav no more. We took him
back to Miulford. where Superintendent
Maher turned him over to Coroner Mix.
He questioned him and later we took him
to the Chernock home accompanied by
Maher and Fowler.

It was here he explained the cryptic
remark he had made in his room. He
said that after he had left his lodging
house on the morning of February Ist,
he met two strangers who invited him
to ride to Milford in their automobile.
While lunching in a Stratford roadhouse,
they confessed they had no money and
were desperate. They threatened to kill
him if he would not tell them where
they could get hold of some easy money.

FEARING for his life, he remembered
the Chernock home, where he had been
entertained * the previous Saturday, and
where the wife had shown him a roll of
bills in a tobacco tin. The bandits agreed
to spare him if he would get them that
money. He said he would try. They drove
him to a spot near the house, gave him
the blaek mask and told him they would
be near at hand to make sure that he
did not try to double-cross them,

He put on the mask and hid in a clump
of trees, watching for an opportunity.
Finally he saw the woman leave for the
barn, He broke out of concealment and
tried to get to the house before her re-
turn, But he was discovered. He told
Mrs, Chernock he would spare her life if
she would tell him where the money was
hidden, She put up a-fight and he had to
defend himself,

Even after he managed to overpower
her, she would not tell where the money
was concealed, At last he learned where
the tobacco tin was hidden. After he
found it and ‘the woman had fallen into
the cellar.” he took a pistol he had dis-
covered in a drawer. He was leaving,
when a man rushed in with a gun and
told him to put ap his hands,

f k
; i

Ihelsoy suid, Phe trigger was broken. I
fried to hold him off, but he shot at me,

When Tf ehimbed out of the window san-
other man shouted at me, I ran across
the field with the first man after me.

Then a lot of men came near where I
was hiding, I tried to cross the railroad
tracks, A man standing on top of the
bridge shouted, Hle came after me, When
he stopped I threw off my coat and ran.

“T jumped from rock to rock, so as not
to leave footprints. A mile or so farther
on I went back to the railroad tracks, I
got to the place where I was supposed
to meet the men, and hid in the bushes.
Their car came along. I hopped in, and
we drove to New Haven. After spending
an hour or two in a saloon we returned
to Bridgeport. They left me at the rail-
road station and went away.”

IT asked him how much money he had
paid the men,

“Not a cent,” he replied. “I told them
I was chased off by the man with the gun
before I had a chance to find it.”

Discrepancies immediately appeared in

_ this man’s confession when we began to

question him, He was unable to describe
the car, the two men, or the license num-
ber. He did not remember the name of
the roadhouse or the saloon where they
had stopped, In brief he was lying in an
effort to alibi himself. He was taken to
the New Haven County Jail to await the
action of the Grand Jury.

DID some investigating. From William

E. Keegan, a ticket inspector at the
New Haven Railroad station, I discovered
that a man answering Kelsey’s description
and wearing a red spotted gray scarf, had
tried to slip through the subway to the
southward bound train platform about
nine o’clock. Ixeegan stopped him and
ordered him away,

Later he said he had seen this same
man talking to Archibald J. McKee, who
operated a bus between Bridgeport and
New Haven on regular trips by way of
the Milford turnpike. McKee, when ques-
tioned, said he remembered this man be-
rause of a red-spotted gray scarf. He
had been a passenger on the nine o’clock
run to Bridgeport.

“Tm not likely to forget that trip,” he
told me. “I stopped. for gasoline at a
filling station halfway between New
Haven and Milford, There, a police officer
lined up all my passengers.”

I confronted Kelsey with these facts the
next day at the County Jail, after both
Kkeegan and McKee identified the pris-
oner, He then admitted he had lied. He
had planned and executed the crime him-
self, later escaping to White City at Savin
Rock. There he caught a trolley to New
Haven, tried to sneak up on the railroad
platform and, failing in this, took the bus
home,

I also discovered that this man’s real
name was John Kasaraskus, although
known under many aliases. As John Kal-
cameskus, alias Cook, and a_ respected
member of the New Britain Lithuanian
Society, he had made a murderous assault
upon their treasurer to obtain the organi-
zation funds. He was arrested and served
five years at the State Prison at Weth-
ersfield.

On February 28th, 1921, Kasaraskus,
alias Kelsey, was convicted of first-degree
murder in the New Haven County Su-
perior Court and sentenced to be hanged
at Wethersfield on May 27th of that year.

I kept the promise I had made my-
self over the body of the attractive Mrs,
Chernock, When the condemned man
climbed the thirteen steps leading to the
scaffold, I was among those present.

Once more it had been proved, as it
has innumerable times, that “Crime does

¢
i

A! ga w”

hg .
ye HAT do you want?”

- Chernock,
35-year-old housewife,

Mrs. Anna

stared fearfully at the apparition
framed in the doorway of her
farm home. It was a man, his

. face covered by a long black

mask. In his hand was a gun,
pointed directly at the frightened
woman. :

“I know. you have money here.
Give it to me quick!”

Mrs. Chernock fell back a step
as the intruder advanced threat-
eningly. At her side two small
children whimpered fearfully.

“Please, there is no money in
the house.”

“Don’t give me that!” Leap-
ing forward, the masked man
seized the woman by the throat.
The children, Joseph and Anna,
ran into the bedroom and scur-
ried under the bed. They heard
their mother run out of the
kitchen, and into the back yard,
with the masked man in pursuit,
so they crawled from under the
bed and watched through the
kitchen window.

Mrs. Chernock ran toward the
barn 50 feet away, but her pur-
suer stopped, picked up a large
stone, wrapped it in his handker-
chief and, wielding it as a black-
jack, chased her through the
barn door.

The wide-eyed children could
not see what happened there, but
a few moments later their mother
came running back, her head and
face streaming blood. She sped
toward the kitchen door and the
children crawled back under the
bed.

Her pursuer caught up with
her in the kitchen, despite the
woman’s efforts to bolt the door
in his face.. But while he was
forcing his way in, Mrs. Cher-
nock cried out frantically to Anna
in Lithuanian, “Go get Mr. Lo-
gan, Anna! Tell him to hurry.”

Light but insistent tapping on
his. front door stirred Herman L.
Logan from his midday nap on
the living room couch. Puzzled,

the farmer sat up, listening. The °

tapping came again.

BY JOHN S. THORP

A little girl stood trembling on
the porch as Logan swung open
the door. Tears coursed down
-her round, plump cheeks. Logan
recognized her as_ 6-year-old
Anna Chernock.

“Oh, Mr. Logan!” she cried. “A
man’s hurting my mama. She
sent me to tell you. She wants
you to come.”

iierman Logan was a man of
He called to his wife,
one the police; something’s
ng at the Chernocks, I’ve got
te right over.”

seized a shotgun from the
ha closet and spoke to the fright-
ened girl,

“You stay here,” he told her.
“T see what’s wrong with your
m ier,”

ihe farmer stepped out on
hi ‘ront lawn a car driven by
W ‘er Lindsley, a neighbor,
ch «ged to a stop in front of his
hovse. Logan ran over and
jumped on the running board.

“lake me down to Chernock’s
piace!” he shouted. “Some-
thing’s up.”

Lindsley threw his car into
gear and sped off down New
Haven Avenue.

The Joseph Chernock farm was
located 200 yards from Logan’s
place on lonely Old Field Lane,
Milford, Conn., between New
Haven Avenue and New Haven
Turnpike. It could be reached
only by the one way, dirt rutted
lane on which it stood.

action,
top)

Sees Gunman

Logan, familiar with the affairs
of the Chernock family, knew
that Joseph, the father and bread-
winner, who operated the farm
during the summer months,
would now be at work at his
winter job in the Columbia
Graphophone Company’s plant at
Bridgeport.

The oldest of the four children
probably was in Milford, two
miles away, where he had an
afternoon newspaper route. That
would leave Mrs. Chernock at
home with her remaining three
children, Joseph, 7, Anna, 6, and

wskgpieectve ney Tuttle found
le.,

had cut him. They ran various types
of meat through the fan and determi-
ned it didn’t have the power to slice a
human finger.

In court testimony, Leavitt claimed
he’d been home watching television
with his wife on the evening of the
murder. He mentioned the series,
“The Scarecrow and Mrs. King,”’ in
particular. Prosecutor Tom Moss

pointed out that the program, and
others, had been pre-empted for
election coverage.

“*T watched that too,’’ Leavitt
suddenly remembered.

The jury was less than impressed by
the answer.

Moss contended that Leavitt’s
answers in court deviated from a
videotaped interview made earlier.

“*I guess I did,’’ Leavitt said when
accused of changing his story.

In the last week of September, a
Bingham County District Court jury
found Leavitt guilty of first-degree
murder and in November of 1985,
Judge Reynold George sentenced
Leavitt, then 26, to life in prison
without the possibility of parole. *

New England's ‘College Of Crime’

(continued from page 9)

nickel-plated, pearl-handled weapon
containing two empty shells.

Loomis noted a discoloration on the
worn blackjack. ‘‘That could be
blood,’’ he observed.

Pisanielli and Lanzillo were question-
ed about the weapons found in East
Derby. Each denied ownership.

‘What about this second black-
jack?”’ O’Dell asked.

Lanzillo stated he carried it for
protection.

Deskin again asked about the guns.
Lanzillo became confused under the
skeptical stares of the officers. ‘‘I think
you know more than you’re saying,’’
O’Dell insisted.

Pisanielli had been brought in to the
room during this exchange and the two
suspects exchanged silent glances.
Finally Lanzillo spoke. ‘‘We have seen
the guns before,’’ he admitted. ‘“They
belonged to that guy named Frank
who ran off the train.’’

He explained that Frank had not
been aboard when the train left New
Haven. Outside the city the train
stopped for. a signal. The two men
heard some shots and then the train
started up slowly. When they got to
an underpass beyond the West Haven
station they noticed some men stand-
ing beside the track. The man named
‘Frank’ swung on board with a gun in
each hand. He swore to shoot them if
they told anyone they saw him.

‘*What did he look nker™ one of the
officials asked.

‘We just saw him in the dark. All
we noted were his big, staring eyes.’

Asked why the three had gotten off
at Derby, the youth answered that they
thought something had gone wrong
when the train stopped.

The two men were removed while
the policemen conferred. Loomis
asked Chief O’Dell if he had noticed
anything unusual about Pisanielli.

“I thought he looked like he had
been in uniform. I asked if he had been

in the army but he didn’t answer.’’

‘“No,’’ the West Haven chief
replied. ‘‘I mean he has a twisted neck,
and so did one of Goldstein’s killers.’’

‘‘Can witnesses identify him?’’

“Well, there’s still one way to be
sure.”’

‘How’s that,’’ asked Deskin.

O’Dell motioned the other two men
closer and whispered a plan. The other
men agreed. The chief rose to his feet
and left the room to talk with Lt.
Urbano. When he returned, he said
everything was set.

The two suspects were led back to
their quarters shortly after three that
morning. They saw they had been
joined by a new inmate with dirty and
torn clothing. The prisoner was pacing
the middle cell separating the two
Italians.

“Sure and isn’t it just the luck of
the Irish,’’ he was complaining. ‘‘All
because a crazy cop is discovering a
bit of the old juice on my breath.”’’

‘Shut up,’’ the police officer
threatened, striking the steel bars of
the middle cell with his night stick.

“To hell with you,” the bleary-eyed
prisoner retorted. ‘‘Where’s the man
with my bail?’’

The officer went out, slamming the
heavy outside door.

The man called Lanzillo spoke to
the drunken inmate next to him. ‘‘You
understand Italian?’’ he wanted to
know.

**Speak English when you talk to
me,’’ came the retort.

Lanzillo spoke again, but in Italian.
“*They’ve taken my shirt,’’ he cursed.

‘‘They’ve taken mine, too,’’ the

other Italian replied in his native
tongue.

‘‘What did they say regarding that
spot?’’ Again in Italian.

The second youth laughed. ‘‘I told
them it was paint.’’

As the two Italians chatted away in
their native tongue, the Irishman lay
huddled on his cell cot, apparently in
a drunken slumber. It wasn’t until five
in the morning that an attendant came
and woke him, saying that his friend
had arrived with bail. The two Italians
watched the man leave. There was a
moment’s silence before Pisanielli
spoke.

“Don’t forget what I told you. If

(continued on page 55)

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‘College Of Crime’

(continued from page 53)

you do as I say the most they can give
us is five years.”’

An attendant approached and took
the two men upstairs. They entered the
courtroom where Loomis, O’Dell,
Desker and Manion sat waiting. There
was another man there, Lt. Urbano.

“‘What did you mean downstairs by
saying the police had nothing on you?”’
Lt. Urbano asked the startled prisoners.
**So you’re glad you threw your
blackjacks and guns away,’’ the
lieutenant pressed. The two prisoners
turned deathly pale.

“It’s the drunken Irishman who was
in the cell between us,’’ Pisanielli
gasped.

**That’s right,’’ Urbano returned
pleasantly. ‘‘What do you have to
say?’’

‘*Nothing,’’ the prisoner said.

‘‘Nothing,’’ Urbano repeated in
perfect Italian. ‘‘Especially after all
you two had to say? I enjoyed your
conversation about those shirts. Was
that just paint...’’ he paused for effect,
“‘or was that the blood of Morris
Goldstein?’’

“I don’t know what you’re talking
‘about.”’

“Oh yes, you do,’’ Urbano counter-
ed.

*‘Don’t you remember when Lanzil-
lo asked what would happen if the man
should die? And you replied you didn’t
know?”’

“*I remember saying nothing of the
kind.’

““Well, I do,’’ the detective returned.
“I also remember you saying ‘Frank
was lucky he got away.’ Morris
Goldstein is dead. You murdered him
and that means the rope.”’

““You know everything,”’’ Pisanielli
exclaimed.

‘‘Everything,’’ the Italian detective
agreed.

During the interrogation Urbano
observed that Lanzillo never answered
any questions without first looking
over to his companion for assurance.
He called this to Chief O’Dell’s
attention who then ordered the two
prisoners separated while Lanzillo was
grilled alone in another room.

He confessed that with Pisanielli and
Frank he had gone to West Haven.
“‘They told me they were going to show
me how one committed a successful
holdup,”’ he said. ‘‘Finally a man came

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along and Pisanielli told him to put _ blackjack.

up his hands. When the man cried out,
Pisanielli fired one shot and Frank
fired two. I had a gun but I didn’t
shoot,’’ he claimed. Lanzillo then told
how the three men ran down Savin
Avenue and caught the freight for
Derby.

When he learned his companion had
talked, Pisanielli offered further
details. He said Goldstein was selected
for the victim because the tailor had a
gold watch Lanzillo’s brother, Louis
admired. He offered Pisanielli a price
if he could get it.

‘*Where does Louis live?’’ Deskin
asked. .

*“At 23 Collis Street. He works at a
rubber shop nearby.’’ The prisoner
told how Louis, on Saturday night,
Nov. 25, had taken the men down
Chapel Street where he pointed out the
tailor shop. They did not dare to attack
the man there, so they followed him
home. Because he had his wife and
daughter with him, they let the victim
go. They noted where he lived and
decided to lay in wait on Monday
night. Pisanielli said he fired one shot
into the air, Frank shot the man twice,
and Lanzillo had struck the victim over
and over again with the broken

‘*Who is this third man, ‘Frank?’’’
one of the detectives asked.

When Pisanielli said he didn’t know,
Urbano had the prisoner remoyed and
Lanzillo brought in. :

‘‘There are several things I don’t
understand,’’ the detective began. ‘“‘A
half hour ago you told us your
companions said they were going to
show you how to do the holdup game.
What did you mean by tkiat?’’

When there was no reply, Lt.
Urbano advised the man to talk, saying
that Pisanielli had already told the
officials much. ‘‘He told us a lot about
your brother, Louis, also.’’

Lanzillo flamed with anger. ‘‘He
told you that? Then I’ll tell you what
I know. Frank said he would teach us
how to become big shot crooks and
get easy money.”’

‘“Why did Frank want to do that?”’

‘“‘He was brought up from New
York City to teach us.’’

““You mean there’s a school for
crime in New Haven?”’ It was Deskin’s
turn to be surprised.

**That’s right,’’ Lanzillo almost
shouted, enjoying the official’s look

(continued on next page)

New England’s ‘College Of Crime’

(continued from page 56)

Coroner Eli Mix continued the
questioning of the prisoners in his New
Haven office as Chief Loomis,
Lieutenant Urbano, and Detective
Deskin hurried through the early
morning dusk to 23 Collis Street where
Louis Lanzillo lived. It was now about
6:30 a.m. They found several men in
the kitchen just finishing breakfast.

**Louis,’’ Deskin ordered, ‘‘I want
to see you.”’

A youth in his early twenties rose
from the table and followed Deskin
into the hall where the official asked
Louis about his brother, Carl.

‘*I haven’t seen him since we
returned from work last evening.”’

“And where were you last evening?”’

Louis Lanzillo replied he had called
upon the proprietor of the Napoli
Hotel, Carmelo Battiata. He reached
into his pocket and pulled out a card
bearing the name of the hotel. At the

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same time, another card dropped to
the floor and Louis tried to hide it.
Loomis was quicker. He picked it up
and handed it to Deskin, who saw it
was Morris Goldstein’s business card.
‘‘Where did you get this?”’

Louis was flustered, but had a ready

answer. ‘‘I’m having a suit of clothes
made there,’’ he responded, producing
a signed receipt from the murdered
man. ‘‘Incidentally, I just saw by the
papers that my brother was arrested.
Can you tell me what the trouble is?”’

For reply, Deskin placed the man
under arrest and the three officers took
him down to police headquarters. The
party then hurried on to the Hotel
Napoli, accompanied by Detectives
Stanley Gianelli, Harry Tuttle, James
P. Currier and Edward F. Lawlor of
the New Haven force. The men walked
in unannounced on the dark-skinned,
wavy-haired proprietor who quickly
denied all knowledge of any son called
‘‘Frank.’’

The detectives then questioned
guests in the upper rooms. One of
them said that a man answering
Frank’s description had been sharing
a downstairs room with Carl Lanzillo.
Inspection of the room indicated a
hurried departure.

Deskin ordered the contents,
including clothing and other items,

confiscated. In a trunk, Lawlor found -

Army uniforms bearing Pisanielli’s
name. Wrapped up in one uniform
coat he located a loaded .38-caliber
revolver. In a rear room, on top of a
dumb waiter, Urbano found a box of
.38 cartridges and several sharp knives.
A large framed Madonna over the
office desk yielded more weapons. But
the most startling discovery was to
come.

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cellar and were shortly joined by
Lawlor and Currier. As Tuttle passed
the furnace he noted the massive stone
cellar walls passing beneath the street.

‘““Wow,’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Take a
look at this.’’ Tuttle indicated several
wooden forms shaped like human
figures, huddled against the lead-
splattered walls. They were bullet-
ridden targets. At the further end of
the cellar the detectives came across a
heap of empty shells which Currier
gathered.

‘‘This proves that there was some-

thing to that ‘crime school’ story, after
all,’’ Gianelli observed as he carefully
removed the lead from the soft wood
of the targets. The detectives worked
together to recover all the bullets they
could; then Deskin placed Battiata
under arrest, leaving Officer James
O’Brien in charge of the hotel.
Several witnesses from the Blohm
Street area, brought to the coroner’s
office, identified Pisanielli as the man
with the twisted neck. John F. Driscoll,
the insurance agent, stated this was the
man who crossed the street and stared
silently at him before continuing to the
car stop. William H. Moulter, the
street car conductor, identified him as
one of the trio who had handed him
the slip of paper on which was written

‘‘Bloom Street.’? The barber, James

H. Johnston, identified Pisanielli and
Carl Lanzillo as the men who loitered
near his shop Saturday and Monday
nights. More incriminating evidence
was to come.

Amos Dickerman, an expert with
the Winchester Repeating Arms
Company, said the death bullets came
from the two guns owned. by Pisanielli
and the man known to the authorities
as ‘‘Frank.’’ The expert also establish-
ed that some of the bullets found in
the Hotel Napoli basement came from
these two guns.

Thus a careless murder had thwarted
a plot to set up a New England crime
school. But the man considered the
most dangerous member Of the gang
had escaped.

Louis and Carl Lanzillo, with
Pisanielli, went on trial February 12,
1917, before Judge William S. Case
in the New Haven County Superior
Court. Carl Lanzillo and Pisanielli

were charged with first-degree murder; .

Louis Lanzillo with second-degree
murder, Pisanielli, it was learned, was
recently discharged from the army
after serving in Mexico.

State’s Attorney Arnon A. Alling
and Assistant State’s Attorney Walter

(continued on page 60)

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(continued from page 55)

of disbelief. ‘‘You go to school to learn
how to become a cop; we went to
school to lean how to beat cops. Only
fools work in America.’”

‘‘What did you learn?’’ the interest-
ed officials asked.

‘For one thing, that this guy Frank
is One smart guy. Down in New York
he is known as ‘The Little Gangster.’
He showed us everything. How to
shoot, how to pick locks, how to get
into homes, how to steal. We were
ready to graduate and on our final
lesson — learning how to be good
holdup men when this happened.’’

‘‘Where did you attend this school
for criminals?’

‘*Down at the Hotel Napoli at
231-233 Water Street.’’

‘‘And this holdup was simply part
of your courses?’’ Deskin asked. He
could hardly believe his ears.

‘‘Sure. Frank wanted to be sure we
knew how to do the job right before
we went after the big money. After
this, he was going to teach us ‘black

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hand’ language. So we looked around
for some guy to try it on and someone
said, ‘‘Why not take that guy? He’s
an Austrian refugee and Italy is at war
with Austria.’ Besides that gold watch
and chain, he carried a lot of money.”’

‘‘Who started this school?’’ Deskin
wanted to know.

‘“‘Carmelo Battiata. He’s the man
who runs the hotel. He got Frank; said
he was his son and he called him ‘his
little gangster.’ He said he would get
him to teach us how to get money. He
let us live free at the hotel.”’

‘‘Frank’s name must be Battiata,
too.”’

“‘I don’t know,’’ the prisoner
responded. ‘‘But I’m afraid of Frank.
He’s a good shot and he was evil eyes
that bore right through you.’’

A picture of the man gradually
emerged from the conversation. Frank
was five-feet-six, weighed around 140
pounds, was 22 or 24 years old, and
had a thin face with a small mouth
and protruding eyes. When Lanzillo
last saw him in Derby, Frank was
wearing a dark suit, standing collar,
dark tie, brown sweater, rolled up
pants, black and white checkered cap.

Pisanielli admitted he owned the
.44-caliber revolver and added that the
pearl-handled weapon had been used
by Frank. Later, another revolver with
cracked grips was found beneath the
trestle by Manion and Urbano. It was
later identified as belonging to Carl
Lanzillo.

(continued on page 58)

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5 5 Re ». hanced Hai 1, CT,1-25-166
GREENSMITH, Nathaniel and Rebecca, henged Hartford, CT,1-25-1663

"GREENSMITH, Nathaniel and Rebecca

oe "Nathaniel and Rebecca Greensmith, of Hartford, Conn,, were

hanged in January, 1662. Well to do but not reputable
people; she was referred to as a 'lewd and ignorant Woman!
they lived next door to people named Coles and Ann Coles
implicates several persons as witches, Rebecca had been
married twice before she married Greensmith..,others im-

» Plicated for bewitching the Coles were Judith Varlet and

: Goodwife Ayres,' She confessed that she and others had

familiarity with the Devil, She and her husband were ine

dicted Dec, 30, 1661, The Hartford records show that one
Daniel Garrett was allowed 6 shillin

the two victims as well as handling thei
out of the Greensmith estate, (WITCHCRAFT IN CONNECTICUT,

- ; pages 8~-8-809), It was also recorded that the two of them
) were hanged on Gallows Hill on the bluff a 'little north
dacs of Trinity Gollege,' This location 'afforded a good view

_if_tge execution to a large crowd on the meadow to the
west. '"

",., HANG BY THE NECK..." by Teeters, p ges 13-135

“Hearn gives date as I=25-1663; this is probably

THE WI TCHCRAFT DELUSION IN COLONIAL NEW HAVEN
by Taylor; also Increase Mather" s REMARKABLE
PROVIDENCE,

_ SAPTYAL PUNISHMENT DATA SHEET

Myst ofveese Vb

STATE Pe
rat

OFFENDER yo TEETERS-ZIBULKA INVENTORY DATA

NAME: Rebeceg Cerewsuil
RACE; /

SEX: r

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DATE EXECUTED: _ lté2
COUNTY:

AGE:

VICTIM

NAME: |
RACE;
SEX:
AGE:

RELATIONSHIP
TO OFFENDER:

BACKGROUND
‘FNFORMATION:

DATE CRIME
COMMITTED:

DATE SENTENCED: =

DAYS BETWEEN CRIME AND SENTENCING;
DAYS BETWEEN CRIME AND EXECUTION:
COUNTY SIZE:

DAY OF THE WEEK EXECUTED:

OFFENDER RESIDENCY:

MEDIA ACCOUNT OF CRIME: .
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INVENTORY #

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MEDIA ACCOUNT OF TRIAL:

MEDIA ACCOUNT OF EXECUTION:

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PERIOD OF INCARCERATION

STAYS OF EXECUTION

EXECUTIONER
WITNESSES
RITUALS

LAST WORDS

OTHER INFORMATION

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Connecéicut newspape

erticle sent by Dan WIFE MURDER

Hanged at Wethersfield Prison
—Shot Life Mate as She
Was Sleeping.

WETHERSFIELD, Conn., Aug. 13.
—Frank Grela, of Hartford, who on
June 6, last, shot his wife as she lay
gleeping with her babe at her side,
was hanged in the state prison here
early this morning. Grela'’s confessed
reason for the crime was that he be-
lieved his wife had been unfaithful to
‘him.

The execution passed without .spec- |}
ial Incident. The condemned man
was unusually calm and resigned to
his fate. Ife had spent the day in
prayer.

With the rain coming down in tor-
rents. outside the prison, Grela, ac-
companied by his spiritual adviser,
Rev. Father Roman Zalitach, of Hart-
ford, entered the death chamber at
2:04:33 o'clock. In seventeen = sec-
onds the prison attendants, accus-
tomed to their rehearsed duties, had
silently strapped him, placed the
black cap over his head, and sprang
the trivp. At 12:14:20 o'clock the
‘body was cut down and lowered in
the cottn and he was officialgy pro-
nouneed dead, by the two prison phy-
sicians.

The body will be buried tomorrow
in n Hartford cemetery. There were
no prison directors present at the ex-
ecution and the only ones present be-
sides those officially named, were
Hartford newspaper men.

2 ——

DUSSO, LANZILLO & PISANIELLI, hanged Conn. SP 6-17-1918

Blood money paid the tuition at...

NEW ENGLAND’S »
‘COLLEGE OF CRIME”

by CURT NORRIS

leries and professional instructors, has no wealthy alumni today contributing to the

endowment funds. It has no happy reunion classes to gather with fond memories.
No, it has none of these and for a good reason... The first graduating class proved to be a
disaster that pulled down the whole ‘‘college.’’ But the first loss, the ultimate loss, was
to an innocent victim on the night of November 27, 1917. |

C onnecticut’s first known school of crime, complete with classrooms, shooting gal-

Shots, shattering the suburban quiet
of West Haven, Connecticut, were
followed by a cry for help and the thud
of pounding feet as forms vanished
into the chill winter night. Minutes
later Chief of Police John M. Loomis
stooped over the body of a well-
dressed man in his early thirties
sprawled face down on the sidewalk
of residential Blohm Street.

A bare-headed man in raccoon coat
rose from his knees. He identified
himself as Dr. Dean C. Bangs of
Milford and explained he was playing
cards across the street when he heard
the shots.

Medical Examiner Victor A. Kowa-
lewsky of Orange forced his way
through the gathering crowd and knelt
beside the body. There were three
bullet wounds, one leaving a powder

burn, and the victim had also been
clubbed.

‘Probably robbed,’’ Bangs obser-
ved.

“Tf so, they bungled it,’’ Kowa-
lewsky replied. Inside the man’s
suitcoat he had found a wallet stuffed
with bills of large denomination. In a
lower vest pocket, he retrieved a large
gold watch.

Loomis focused his flashlight on the
battered face. ‘‘Does anyone know this
man?’’ he asked.

‘‘I know him,’’ exclaimed a man as

Louis Lanzillo, school’s finger
man, was the one who selected
the practice murder victim.

The crime school came
complete with professors,
exams and diplomas and the
graduation exercises involved
Sticking up a bank. But
| “flunking’ could mean a quick |

he pushed forward. ‘‘He’s Morris
Goldstein, a tenant of mine who runs
a tailor shop in New Haven. So they’ve
gotten him at last.’’

‘‘What do you mean?’’ the chief
demanded.

‘*Goldstein said to me the other day
that he’s been watched for days and
that some men followed him right to
his home on Peck Street last Saturday
night.”’

‘‘Anyone else?”’

‘His wife might know. She was with
him when he was followed. He didn’t
tell me anything more, though.’’

As Sergeant John Tierney began a
search of the neighborhood, Chief
Loomis sought more information
from the bystanders. John F. Driscoll,

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pap

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freights and that all tower men along
the line should notify agents to be on
the lookout for the suspects. This alert
was sent over a 50-mile radius.

Loomis sought out the victims’
widow in West Haven. The shaken
woman told the chief that her husband
had been very nervous for some time
but refused to tell her the reason. She
and her young daughter had spent the
previous Saturday evening at her
husband’s tailor shop on Chapel
Street. The family group caught the
9:30 p.m. car from the Green to West
Haven. Three youths on the car eyed
the husband, wife; and daughter
intently all the way, and trailed them
to their 168 Peck Avenue apartment.

‘“*Can you describe them?’’ the
official asked. .

“*Yes,’’ the widow replied. ‘‘They
looked like immigrants; they were in
their early twenties, and one had a stiff
neck.”’

The widow added she had felt
endangered, but when the youths
continued on as the Goldsteins turned
into their yard she felt perhaps she had
been frightened over nothing.

Following his talk with the widow,
the chief went to the Savin Rock trolley
car terminal, thinking the murderers
might have come to town by trolley.
By luck, he met the conductor of the
car that had brought Goldstein to his
death. The man didn’t recall any
passengers like the wanted men but
suggested the chief see William
Moulter, the conductor on the al-
ternate run. —

‘‘He should be here any minute,”’ |

the conductor,told the impatient
Loomis. As he waited, Loomis was
hailed by James H. Johnston, a barber
who had a shop on upper Blohm
Street.

“I heard you were looking for some
men in connection with the shooting
tonight,’’ the barber stated. ‘“There
were three men standing under the
street light near my shop when I closed
around 9:30. When I came out, they
turned and walked toward the Bloom
Street car stop.”’

‘“Why do you think they had
anything to do with the murder?”’

‘‘Because soon after I reached my
home I heard three shots from that
direction. When I heard about the
shooting, I thought I’d better see
you.”’

The only man the barber could
describe was one with protruding eyes,
thick hair, and wearing a cap and light-
colored coat. Another man, he stated,
had a twisted neck. He thought he
could identify these two men, but not

in all probability the third.

The barber left as the New Haven
car came in and the chief explained
his errand to Conductor Moulter.
Moulter recognized the descriptions
immediately. ‘‘Three men got on the
New Haven car which left the Green
at 9:15,’’ he recalled. ‘‘One of them
showed me a note on which was
written ‘Bloom Street.’ He asked me
to tell him when we got to that street,
but when we neared the stop he gave
me the bell and they got off.”’

All three looked like foreigners, the
conductor said. One wore a light-
colored coat and another had a twisted
neck.

Chief Loomis investigated around
town while railroad employes and

Triggerman Frank Dusso came
to New Haven as ‘professor’
but flunked his own course.

other police closed the cordon within
a 50-mile radius of New Haven. Twelve
miles to the west, in Derby, Officer
Frank J. Manion answered his phone
at 11:25 p.m. William Ballard, the
operator of the railroad tower in East
Derby, was on the line. He asked that
help be rushed to the railroad tower
at once.

Picking up Patrolman James Rear-
don, the two officers hurried to East
Derby. Although the railroad station
was dark, the nearby tower was lit.
Beyond it, a long, high triple track
trestle vanished intd the darkness. The
whistle of an approaching locomotive
sounded in the east.

Ballard told the officers of the
telegraphic warning he had received
regarding the West Haven murder. He
thought there was a good chance the

wanted men might be on the milk
extra, due any moment.

The three men stared at the sema-
phore tower outside where a signal
gleamed red against the overcast night
sky. ‘‘That train left New Haven by
way of West Haven at 10:19,’’ the
tower operator observed. As he spoke,
it puffed slowly into sight. .

The engine came to a stop halfway
across the 200-foot trestle, skirted by
a high bank and river. Engineer John
J. Wrinn climbed down from the cab
and walked toward the two officers
running toward him.

‘‘What’s going on?’’ he asked.

‘*We’re looking for three men
wanted for murder in West Haven,”’
Manion replied. ‘‘Do you have any
‘deadheads’ that might have gotten
on there?’’

‘I don’t know,’’ the engineer said.
‘““We were firing up when we went
through that town. I think I may have
seen some men standing by an under-
pass after the station, but we were
busy.”’

Manion started down the long line
of cars. Suddenly a shadowy form
loomed ahead and he caught sight of
a swarthy face.

‘“Who are you?’’ the policeman
demanded.

‘“‘Just a guy bumming a ride, boss.”’

The officer drew his gun and
fumbled for a flashlight with his other
hand. As he did, the man quickly
tossed something behind him which
landed with a thud on the river mud
below.

‘‘Put up your hands,’’ Manion
ordered.

The officer shone his light behind
the man and noted two other forms.
“*You too,’’ he shouted, ‘‘Both of you,
get them up.’’

One of the men leaped from the
trestle. Manion fired at the form,
which landed and crashed through the
underbrush. As the other man in back
edged closer, the officer felt the man
beside him stiffen. He sensed danger
and as he stepped back, his foot
tripped on a ‘‘sleeper’’ and he lost his
balance. The two men lunged forward
and he cried for help.

Officers Reardon and Wrinn ran
into view while other men tumbled
from the caboose. The: two suspects
were soon handcuffed.

There were no other riders and
Marion turned to study his two
prisoners. The first was a curly-haired,
dark-eyed youth in his early twenties.
He blinked in the light of the torch as
the officer asked him where he came
from.

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“*Pier 25, New York City,’’ came the
sullen reply.

‘‘That’s interesting,’’ the train
engineer commented. ‘‘Especially since
this train didn’t come from New
York City. We made up at Cedar Hill,
coming by way of Devon and New
Haven.”’

‘*What’s your name?’’ Manion
asked.

**Carl Lanzillo.’’

“‘And yours?’’ the officer looked at
the second youth who stared ahead
sullenly, without response.

*“Who was the man who jumped?’’

Again the first youth answered. ‘‘I
don’t know. He was on the train when
we got aboard. Said to call him
‘Frank.’ Look, how about letting us
go. Is it against the law to hop a ride?”’

“In this town it is,’’ the policeman
replied. Manion asked Reardon to
watch the two suspects. Then he
hurried down the track with his
bobbing flashlight. Some distance
beyond where he had halted the trio,
the unarmed officer climbed down a
wooden ladder leading from the trestle
to the clamflats below. He studied the
heavy indentations where the third
fugitive had landed for a moment
before he continued on.

Fifteen feet further his patience was
rewarded. He stooped and picked up
a black object which he slipped into
his pocket. Then he hurried back to
the tower where he notified the New
Haven authorities.

Back at Derby, Manion next tele-
phoned Chief Daniel T. O’Dell of the
local force. He arrived after midnight
and asked Manion to bring each man
separately into his office.

Lanzillo repeated the same story he
had told at the tower. His alibi was
not shaken by cross-examination.

After Lanzillo returned to his cell the

second prisoner was brought in. He
fidgeted nervously while the chief
examined a letter Manion had found
on him.

‘“‘What is your name?”’ the chief
asked.

‘‘Carmine Pisanielli,’’ he replied,
giving the same name as that written
on the envelope.

O’Dell was struck by the military
bearing of the man before him. ‘‘You
look as though you’d been in the
Army,’’ he remarked.

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American Heart Association

There was no reply. When asked
what he was doing on the train,
Pisanielli said he had hopped a freight
in the Cedar Hill yards thinking he
would go to New York to look for a
job. When the train pulled off he
figured he’d stay on, that he could find
work in one place as easily as in
another. Repeated questioning failed
to break his story. O’Dell ordered the
man removed.

The Derby chief telephoned Chief
Loomis at West Haven and Chief
Deskin in New Haven who sped to
Derby by automobile. O’Dell gave the
other two chiefs details and showed
them the evidence Manion uncovered
under the railroad trestle. It was a new,
black leather blackjack.

‘“*So far we’ve found nothing to tie
these men into the crime,’’ O’Dell
admitted. ‘‘Both men say they boarded
the train near New Haven. The
engineer says he saw men standing in
the underpass at West Haven, but can’t

identify them and doesn’t know if they
were the same men.”’

Although Loomis and Deskin saw
both prisoners they failed to gather any
new information. Then, with Manion
and Lt. Anthony Urbano of the local
force, they returned to the railroad
trestle. Beneath it, on the frozen
ground, piled in the shape of a cross,
they found two revolvers and some
empty shells.

Manion was puzzled. ‘‘Funny I
didn’t discover them when I was down
here before,’’ he said.

Above, on the trestle itself, the
officers found a worn blackjack tucked
beneath the ‘‘sleepers.’’ Then they
returned to the Derby police station
where they examined their finds.

One of the guns was a .44 Colt
Frontier Model. Deskin noted it was
loaded except for one empty shell. The
other gun was a smaller .38-caliber,

(continued on page 53)

‘Armed robbery, forgery, smuggling, income tax evasion...you name
it, and I’ve been framed for it.’

Crime school headquarters, the Hotel Napoli, center, sold
pepper steak and spaghetti as a specialty. Shooting gallery in

the basement featured moving wooden targets in human form.

an insurance agent with offices in New
Haven, said he had seen three men
loitering on the street when he got off
the New Haven trolley about 9:30 p.m.

“One of them crossed the street and
blocked my path,’’ he told the police
official. ‘‘He stared at me for a
moment and rejoined the others and
the three disappeared.”’

RCHIVES

‘*Would you recognize this man?”’

“*Yes,’’ the agent replied. ‘‘While he
was staring at me some automobile
headlights were shining on his face.
He looked like a foreigner in his early
twenties, and I think he had a twisted
neck.”’

Others reported seeing the same
three men and several reported the
men headed for Savin Avenue directly
after the shooting. Loomis thought
quickly and came up with one of those
quick deductions instinctive to veteran

Carmelo Battiata, proprietor of
Hote! Napoli, imported New York
thugs to teach crime ‘basics.’

officers. He realized this road was
bisected a short distance from town
by a railroad trestle; that trains moved
slowly at this spot because of the steep
grade after leaving the West Haven
depot.

“They’re planning to hop a freight,”’
he said half aloud as he glanced at his
watch. It was 10:30 and he hastily
recalled Tierney. ‘‘Search the tracks
in the vicinity of Savin Avenue,’’ he
ordered. ‘‘There’s a freight due there
at any moment and I think our
suspects may try to hop it.”’

Taking some men, the sergeant came
in sight of the trestle just as a freight
train passed from view. There was no
sign of the wanted men near the tracks.
Loomis broadcast an alarm to all
police departments to watch for three
men of Greek or Italian extraction,
one of whom had a twisted neck.

Detective William H. Deskin
received this information at New

ep aie bid

Haven Police Headquarters and
relayed it to the Special Agents Office
(police branch) of the New York, New
Haven, and Hartford Railroad. He
added information of his own, saying
that the men might be riding the

(continued on next page)

appearing in early life, even in childhood, indicate
great danger of increafing in wickednefs ’til] ripe for
ruin. . ve ees

_ Prefane (wearing is a fin to which he was exceed-
Incly addi@ed. He acknowicdved that ke had profa-
ned God's holy name in the molt awful manner! Nor
did be Pay any regard to the law’of the fabbafh. In
his Catalosue of crimes he, particularly, acknowleds.
ect this as what denominated him a ‘great finner itt
the git of Gad. Ie confelfed, that when he lived at
Bellingham, the yeung people ufed to come to his
boule and requcil him to fiddle for them on the fabe.
bath, that he cowpiied, tho at fir with fome relucta
ance, and thar they ufed to dance at the houfe. where
he lived, {pending the Lard’s day in frolicking and
mirth. This, itis conceived, he de tuned to reprefent
as what frequently took place. Vhat it was a neaven-

A sO ne, ite

( 29 )
mand with promife. Scarce any fin is more provok-
ing to God, than difobedience to parents. ‘fhe feel--
ings of a poor condemned malefator, are a foleran
warning to children, that they honor and obcy their
parents in the fear of God, left they become hardened
in fin, and be given up to ruin. No doubt, many a
youth has, from difhonoring his mother, gone on from

-fin to fin, till he has become a candidate for public

exccution,

It having been reported that his abufe and cruel
treatment of his wife occafioned her death, he was
afked, when giving an account of his life, whether he
and his wite lived happily together? He faid, they
did not, and intimated that ber imprudcat conduét
was the cauic of contention. He was then inquired
of whether he ft ppofed he was the means of her death ?.
He obferved, that tho he ufed io flrike and abufe her,
yet he did not accufe himfelf of having occafioned

Be aks

BOG OT ITE me gree agers ow

daring fin, is netto be doubied. Shonld this, prov. .

lucutially, fall 1:0 tne hands of any of hofe young they Geath, untcfs it was by negle&t, when the needed
Peepte, they are, fcrisaly, defired to take warning ) hisatteniion, He faid the was never well afier lying
aud repent. icf the juceanents of Gad overtake then 4 in—that fhe languithed, and diced with the confump-
0 this itt, and S. be a twilt witnefs againft them at tion—that he fuppofed he let her tuifer, andin that
‘the day of judsment, Way might occafion her death. Before the day of
eee nase ae ; . 7 execution, however, ie made a more fell difelofare of
= Golerved taat dis morher giten advifed him to his bafenefs in that affair. He confelled, of his own
xceep out of bad company, but he rejeéted her advice, accord, that he pulled his wife out of a chair upon

aund nis leequcenting bad company, particularly the i the floor—that he beat and bruifed her—thet fom
company of bed wome » he confidered as one thing little time aftcr this aitray, fhe hal an immetare
(nat bed ,reas influence in bringing him to an un- birth, produced, as he fuppoled, by his beatire her,
umely end, and that the, from that time, laneuifhed. ond died. —
Tic fuppofed, therefore, that his vile conduct did oc.

He confefled that he was a difobedient fon, often cafion the death of, both, the motherand chijd. And
treating, efpecially, his Mother, with foul, abufive he told the writer af this, even, when walking to the
languase, His abufive, iL treatment of his mother,. gallows, that he was willing the world 4iould be in-
be tucuzht, hada tendency to harden, and lead him | |") formed thet he viewed himfelf as having caufed the
on in otecr fins. And the idca was, utdoubtedly,.. - ‘oi: | -* death of his wife, - i —
get. Honor uy father aid thy mother, is the firft com. =f ‘ fe

ct
a

Ce are rere tare oe ee a °

fpot by the Officer.

(. 26.4
He did alfo uniformly fay that

he did not know but his treatment of her was the oc-
cation of her death ; and would fometimes fay, he
was inclined to think it was. He acknowledoycd after
his trial and fentence, that the night before ihe was
fuppofed to be murdered, and late in the night, when
returning from a houfle where they had been together,
a difpute arofe, and he flruck her twice with his fift
once on each fide of the neck, and knocked her down

ie
—that after fhe got up and followed him he gave her

afevere ftroke inthe tomach, with his clbow, and
that after they returned home from Rufs’, and fhe
had lain dowa, acontroverfy arofe which occafioned
him to pull her off the bed, and draw her abopt the:
floor.

' Thoitis net the prefent defign cither to remark
unon the facts, Or Opinionate upon the cafe, yet it is,
natural to noticz. and every individual will notice, the
frort {pace of time afterthey went from Rufs’ until
he returned there ; and what muft have paffed, accor-
ding to his account, in that fpace. By his account,
‘they went home, and lay down, and had an affray, in
ewhich he pulicd her offthe bed and drew her about
the foor—they became quiet and lay down again, and
he fell intoa drowfe—he was difiurbed by her getting

‘up,and enquired where fhe was going—fhe antwered

his queftion, and went out—he fell into a found flecp;
‘awoke, got up, made diligent fearch after H. and re-
turned to Rufs’, ailin the fhort fpace of one hourand
a half, This is poffible, but whether probable 1s
left to che candid to judge. And tho men, and the
belt of men may err, yet there is a day approaching
ca will take place,and God will bring

if ju
évery work titea ja:
if be good, or wisstier We ve cule

when perfect tuiti

_ , NotwithfMlanding the criminal denicd that he ever,

ss ogg MINE eT
= ° —_- -~

A eg ka ee

isracni, with every fecres thing, whether

a7) }

intentionally killed Hannah Simons, yet he conk fed
‘a black catalogue of other crimes ; and acknowledged,
at fome times, that he ought to cie. It appeared by
his confcliion, at the time referred to above, when he
gave an account of his life, thathe began his career
of fin at avery early period. This isa common cale
with thofe that come io an untimely end. They ufu-
ally begin young, and go on to that pitch of wicked-
nels that public jullice cuts them off, to render foctety
fafe, and free the world froin an_ intolerable buiden.
So it was inthis inflance. When S. was a fimall boy
he ftole from his father’s purfe afrnall fum, not ex-
ceeding, perhaps, a few pence, for which his father
gave him proper correQtion. This was the firft ia-
{tance of theft which he acknowledged.

_ While he lived with Mr. Boyd, at Portland, he o-
pened a drawer in the flore, and took half a doilar.
This piece of iniguity was difcovercd, and ucwas pun-
ifhed, which was the probable reafon of his leaving
his mafter, and returning to Bodoa. :

He acknowleded, alfo, that when he was a Jad he
went toa Nore in Wrentham to buy a penknife, anil
obtained one inaway which he confidercd as thett.
The gentleman that tended the flore laid a number of
knives on the counter, one of which he took, and paid
for, putt‘ng the knifein his pocket. After the ftore-
keeper had taken the moncy, and put up the knives,
there remained one on thecounter. This being offer-
ed him as the one he had purchafed, he took it, put ts
in his pocker, and did not inform the owner of the mil-
take. This, or condudt of the kind, may, poilibiy,
be jullifed by the wicked world; but it is theft in
the e,eofan holy God, and was fo confidered by 5.
in view of eternity. Thefe he faid were ail the in-
ftances of theft he cver committed ; and thefe are c-
nouszh to fhow a corrupt, depraved Gifpoinicn, and

~ I eee
“T —n

VEO Tmt ony BF

TOMA weet antets ne an 2

ore,

SP epee ee SES Sry yon ae

(ge 4

He freely confeffed, and, of his own accord, ac-
knowledecd that he had been a man of lewdnef{s—
that, even, when he lived with his wife, he was. in a
variety of inftances, guilty of unlawlul commerce with
bad women. And, indecd, tho painful to relate, yet,
as an evidence of human depravity, and to warn the
living of the great danger of venturing on forbidden
ground, it ought to be mentioned that he was fo aban-
doned to vice, that he made repeated attempts to
commit Glthinefs with beafts ! This he confefled more
than once, and particularly the night before his exe-
cution ; driven to it, as appeared, by the convictions of
his own confcience, and the horrors that prefled hard
upon him in view of eternity.

Ife appeared, after fentence was paffed upon him,
to be fond of the company of miuifters of relizion,
and other ferious perfons. ‘The fore part of the time
between fentence and cxccution, tho he was fobcr,
and converfed with fome freedom about death and
eternity, yet there appeared no great degree of anx-
icty on his mind. When it was mentioned to him

that his time was fhort, and that it was important for
hhimto think ferioufiy, and be prepared for death ; he
would acknowledge it, and faid, he was preparing
“himfelf as fafkas he could. Ie appearing by his con-
verfation, that he placed much cependance on read.
ing the bible, and his prayers, to prepare himfelf ie
deat ; the dunyer of {cif-dependance, the necellity of
a now heart, of fincere repentance, and faith, were,
from time to time, preffed upon him. As the tine
of execution drew near, his anxiety increafed, and tor
fome days he maniiclled an overwhelming fenfe of his

danger as a great inner.

‘ 7 ’ “4 —_ :
On the day of execution, he behaved with a‘des.

rr . . . c : PY ae ° ent ises

eree of fortitude, and fteadincis, manifefling, however,
o

alu

te thofe converfant with him, avery great weight a

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= ical le ae a a od ee

ad ‘

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1’.
4 tN a A

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(-2gt *)

burden on his mind ; and, e{pecially, in fome of his
lafi moments, an inward perturbation and horror

truly affcéting.

This narrative, as well as numberlefs inflances of
perfons ftupid when death is viewed at a diftance,
and alarmed when brought near, fhows the wiles of
fatan—the deceifulnefs of the heart, and the delufive
Mature of fin. [t is ferioufly defired that all, into
whofe hands thefe lines may happen to fail, may pro-
fit by what they read. By an early indulgence of fin,
and becoming hardened in the ways of vice, the un-
happy man, of whom foie things have been related,
prepared himfelf for great horror of mind, and to die,

when a youth, by the hand of public juftice. ®

+ , ; on
Reader, remember the danger of finning againft

God ; and that He who will be your judge faith, Le

that, being often reproved, hardcneth his neck, Shall fudden-
ly eC defrayed, Grd thet mithout remedy !
7 Cog Ol Noae

——)

&, -
. .

i “+ et oe eT ppg es, *

(24 )

informati ™ i ,
ofticueh eee Cl¥, to apprehend S, and a jur
Fite panelled, When he was condu@éd to
ane oy of the deceased, he abferved to this effeét,
mee a words, I Suffer, tho Tm innocent, becaufe
Fain Tees a fee theaffray. If any one had feen it,
Wes have thought L did enough to kill her. On
this occafion he undertook to (late the manner in
Which fhe left him. At.firll he faid to fome refent
ay they went, home, and lay down on each anc
ps iell.aileep, and when,he awoke, fhe was pone! and
7 never faw her morc. To others he gave an ace
count, which he continued to declare was faét. yj
‘that they went home and lay down on Ringe ie ae
hwhile he was -drowfing, but not in a found fleep, if
:§0t up—that he inaui he war late
{ ne inguired of her where fhe was coins
ape fhe faid fhe was going out at the door fora
-tcw minutes. | He then, he faid, concluding fhe was
801g out on fome neceflary occafion, feli caly and
fell afleep. When he awoke and found jhe had not
peg ie eae out and fearched for her, and could

_ .On exarnining the body there was difcovered a
bruife on the back fide of the head, which as the bo-
dy was.in.a flare of high putrefaction, occafioned the
fcalp to feperate,eafily, from the feull, while the {kin
.aejoining was much more tough.and firm. -

There were, alfo, on one arm, a number of livjd
‘Spots, apparently, the effet of bruifes. A large
handkerchief or Shawl was tied round her neck ; abd
as the neck was much fwollen, was drawn extremely
ptight. .One corner of the handkerchief was drawn up.
-OVCr her chin, and the other down upon her breaft.
One of the jury of inquefl obferving that he fufpeQed

cher throat was cut,. and that it was belt to take off .

-.the handkerchief and examine 3 S. faid, her throat is

vam rs Paredes -_—- - #e: --* “teate-2 aa oo CL a _*
fea T * wt RON : > BNE

ra das
_ Nene Se Rene pe mee gy 8 ees 9 wep 4 HOE.

nee ee

Cea

not cut. The handkerchief being taken off, it appear-
ed that the throat wus not cut); buc there vas a thab
under cach car, directly againft the jugular veins, of
confiderable depth, and apparently dove with a knife.
Thefe were confidered as the fatal wounds.

_ Her ftockings appeared to be too large for her fect,
and, of courle, by putting on the fhoe, there were
plaits or wrinkles formed from the toe towards the
‘neel 3 which, by wearing feveral day's previous to her
death, and being cotton, would remain after the flioc
‘was taken off. Thefe plaits were perfectly fmooth ia
the flocking feet when examined by the jury ot in-
-quelt, and the bottoms no more foiled or difcolored,
than the other parts of the flocking ; tho if, accordin
‘to the account given by S. fhe lett her fhocs in the
houfe, fhe mult have walked fifty rods at leaf, on
irough ground, a confiderable part of the way among
'+bufhes, and up an afcent, in order to have gone a
Jdire&t courfe. If in a circuitous route, fhe mut
have gone through piowed ground,

. No knife, orinflrument of any kind could be found
near the body, with which fhe could have wounded,

and deftroyed herfelf, |

Thefe were the principal fads that were given in
evidence, Onthele fatts the Bill of Indidinent was
founded, by ihe grand jury ; and thele the petit jary
Were, unanimoully, agreed were fufficient to fublian-
tiate the faét charged in the indi&ment, and they
found the prifoner guilty of Murder.

The crifhinal perfifted uniformly in a Genial of the

A Pe 2) ‘
1aci ; and declared, even, tothe latt, that fhe left him

when he lay on the bed, as flated above; and that ne
never faw her body aftcr fhe went out at the door, un-
‘til he was taken ‘by warrant, and condu€ted tothe

erweren eer
’

OL oe

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!

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ty
o +

(Above) Outside this simple farmhouse on the out-
skirts of Milford, Connecticut, a sinister masked fig-
ure waited his moment to strike. (Right) The
cowardly slayer of Annie Chernock. He met a well-|
deserved fate after Chief of Police Tuttle, then a
county detective, followed the bizarre clue of the
multi-colored disks to a startling denouement

man pushed his way into the house, and walked toward them.

“Where’s that money?” he asked menacingly.

“There isn’t any,” she faltered.

But the masked robber, unbelieving, stepped forward and
seized her by the wrists.

“There is money in this house,” he insisted. “I want it.”

The woman remained silent; the man’s fury increased.

“Have I got to kill you before you'll talk?” he threatened,
and his grasp tightened.

Her lips parted. “Tobacco can—kitchen closet,’”’ she whis-
pered. He released her. She sank to the floor as he hurried
inside.

Mary crept closér. ‘“Mother,” she sobbed.

Inside, tinware crashed to the kitchen floor as the robber
~ swept a shelf clear of pots and pans. The prostrate woman
became instantly alert.

“Mary,” she said in a low voice, “go to Logan’s. Tell him
to get police.” From the kitchen came sounds of rage.
“Hurry!” the mother urged.

The child rose to her feet. She climbed over the upturned
chest and reached the door. Then she ran through the yard
and gained the street. It was deserted. She started in the
direction of their nearest neighbor, Herman L. Logan.

From the house came a cry; then silence.

Mary brushed away her tears and ran. The sunshine had
gone. Flurries of snow and sleet beat in her face. Several

times she slipped as her feet struck hidden ice, picked herself
up and staggered on.
The Logan house finally loomed ahead. She stumbled

through the gate and onto the porch. Logan opened the
door. He saw the child, and drew her in. She sat there
unable to speak, terrified eyes staring from a face gone
deathly white.

“Mummy’s being hurt,” she finally said. “A man with a
eet mask broke through the door. She sent me here for
help.”

Logan listened to the halting, disjointed story. Then he
stepped to the telephone and called Police Headquarters, lo-
cated in the Town Hall several miles away.

“He won’t hurt her long,” he assured the girl as he pulled
on his heavy coat. Stuffing his pockets with cartridges, he
snatched his gun from its place. The door slammed behind
him. Down the road came the rattle of wagon wheels and
the sound of horse’s hoofs. Logan sprang to the gate and
called. Walter H. Linsley, another neighbor, pulled up.

“Take me down to the Chernock house,” the armed man
shouted as he climbed into the seat and hurriedly explained.

The driver whipped up his horse. “Hang on,” he said.

Logan threw back the breech of his 12-gauge shotgun and
shoved in two loaded shells. Linsley kept his eyes ahead.
The road was slippery. The Chernock house came into sight
as they rounded the curve. Not a living thing moved against
the white background of the bleak landscape. The driver
stopped just beyond the house, saying that he would wait.
Logan stepped down from the wagon.

“Be careful,” Linsley warned. “He may still be inside.”

His neighbor nodded. Gun ready for action he rounded
the corner. He saw that the rear door had been smashed

36 Master

open. It swung slowly ajar on one twisted hinge as he ad-
vanced. He took no chances.

“Come on out,” he shouted. “I’ve got you covered.”

The door swung wider, revealing only emptiness behind.
Logan advanced warily and shouted again. The silent house
gave back no answer. Inside the entrance, beyond the over-
turned chest of drawers, he saw signs of a desperate struggle
In the kitchen pots and pans lay in wild disorder. Furniture
had been upset and thrown about.

He glanced sharply at several closed doors leading into other
portions of the house. Then he caught sight of a woman’s
purse lying open on the floor. As he stooped to pick it up,
he saw a crib half hidden behind a broken rocker. A tiny
form lay within. Despite the violent struggle which had
taken place so near, the child was still asleep.

He remembered that the door of the bulkhead leading into
the cellar had been open when he entered. Perhaps the
frightened woman had hidden there.

He turned and retraced his steps.

“Mrs. Chernock,” he called. “Mrs. Chernock!”

His voice died away. Some sixth inner sense warned him
of danger. He wheeled in his tracks. All seemed as before.
But he now had the uneasy feeling that he was no longer
the hunter but the hunted, stalked by some unseen, murder-
ous presence. He felt that every move was being watched by
hidden eyes.

Logan’s gaze swept the farther corner of the kitchen. The
short winter afternoon was drawing to a close. Dark shadows
were growing. It was now almost too dark to see in that
dimly lighted kitchen, but he was certain the door to the
end bedroom had swung softly shut.

HE jumped forward, being careful to keep out of range of
possible shots.

“Whoever is inside, come out!” he commanded. “And
come out with your hands up.”

There was no reply. Logan noisily cocked his gun. Behind
the closed door he heard stealthy movements as though a
window were being raised. He waited no longer. Kicking
open the door he rushed in.

The window shades were drawn and the room was in dark-

At the time of her mother’s mysterious death, comely Mildred
Chernock (above), then a baby, lay unnoticed in her crib

Detective

ness. He groped his way forward. A form rose suddenly

beside him. A gun muzzle jabbed his ribs. Logan backed into

the kitchen. The other followed, revolver still pressed close.
“Put up your own hands,” the masked form ordered.
Logan made as though to obey. Instead he swung his

weapon into position. The room reverberated with gunfire.

He choked and fell back. The baby, Mildred, in the crib, be-

gan to whimper. Outside the house there came a sudden cry.

* + %*

When Logan telephoned Police Headquarters, Superinten-
dent James M. Maher received the call. He had just hung
up when Captain Mortimer B. Fowler, now superintendent,
entered.

“There’s trouble down on Old Gate Lane,” Maher said. He
spoke to the sergeant on duty. “Captain Fowler and I are
headed for the Chernock home.”

He reached for his revolver, put on his coat and hat, then
hurried to the police patrol that stood outside. Picking up
Officer Oliver Hibbard, he ordered him to accompany them.
Fowler followed. The heavy machine struck the icy pave-
ment and skidded halfway across the road. Maher brought
the car under control and then shot toward the easterly sec-
tion of the town, and tore on. The shore drive lay de-
serted. Only buses and other emergency vehicles dared tempt
the falling sleet.

They roared over a wooden bridge, turned beneath the
New Haven Railroad bridge and sped along Old Gate Lane to
the Chernock farm. A driverless horse and wagon stood out-
side. From ahead there came a shout and the loud report of
a gun. A form ran toward them over the snow-blanketed
field. When it came closer they saw it was Walter Linsley.

“Logan went inside with a gun to search the house,” he
explained excitedly. “I heard a shot and a man jumped out
of a window. Logan followed. He chased him across the
field into the woods.”

“Did he hit him?”

“T couldn’t see. They disappeared in the direction of the
New Haven Railroad tracks.”

“Where’s Mrs. Chernock?” Maher asked.

Linsley didn’t know. Nor did: Logan, who returned as they
stood talking. He had lost sight of the fugitive. He told the

Down Old Gate Road (above) a frightened child, Mary
afternoon, to obtain aid for her mother. “Hurry,” the latter

' the railroad embankment into a vacant

38 Master

told us the intruder wore a dark brown overcoat with a black
and white checkered cap, This meager description was at
once broadeast throughout Connecticut,

My mind reverted to the mask.

“Either he had some scar or disfigurement which would
make recognition easy,” I said, “or else the killer was known
to the family and dared take no risks of, his identity becoming
known.”

Mix stated that the woman had been beaten to death by
the cobblers’ steel standard, although definite details would
not be forthcoming until Medical Examiner M. M. Scarbrough
performed an autopsy. There was no evidence of criminal as-
sault. Yet, if the motive was robbery, as seemed so ob-
viously indicated, why had the killer shown such insane rage
against his victim?

“Where was this woman’s husband when this took place?”
I asked the Superintendent.

“At work. He holds a responsible position with the Colum-
bia Graphophone Company. I reached him there a few min-
utes ago. He is now on his way home.” He paused. ‘“There’s
one other clue. Officer Hibbard found it in the woods where
the man disappeared. I'll go out to the car and bring it in.”

He started toward the door, which opened, and two young-
sters, cheeks red from the cold, came in. They stared in
surprise at the strangers.

“Where’s mama?” the elder, a tot of four, asked.

Maher cleared his throat. “She had to go away,” he
said gruffly. “But your father will be home at any mo-
ment. Where have you children been?”

“We went over to see some friends,” the child replied.
“Usually mama comes for us. Tonight she didn’t.”

The younger child began to whimper for her mother. The
ery was answered by the baby in the crib. Somehow that
seemed to reassure the boy.

“Don’t ery,” he comforted, with a wisdom beyond his
years. “Mama’s coming back soon, or she would have taken
you with her when she went out. Don't cry, baby.”

Maher placed the children in the care of
a neighbor. Then he hurried to the pa-
trol wagon and returned with the clue dis-
covered by Hibbard and Logan. He
spread it out before me on the kitchen
table.

Before I had time to examine it, there
came the sharp crack of a pistol, quickly
followed by another and another. Maher
and I rushed to the door. Somewhere in
the distance a man shouted. Carried to
us on the wind came more pistol shots—
three in rapid succession. It was the
signal for the posse to close in.

“That was in the direction of the West
Haven bridge,” the Superintendent said.

Getting into our machines we drove
there at once.

x & &

As we learned later, Captain Fowler,
after leaving the Chernock home, drove
immediately to the West Haven bridge.

Sufficient light remained for him to keep
careful watch. Beneath the bridge
stretched the New Haven Railroad tracks,
while to the right lonely woodlands ex-
tended through to Old Gate Lane and the
murdered woman’s home.

It had grown extremely cold. He walked
briskly back and forth seeking to keep
warm. But never once did he relax his
watchful vigilance. He stared down over
the rail and all discomfort was forgotten.

What he thought to be a rock at the
edge of the forest had come suddenly to
life. It crept slowly into the open, crossed
the tracks and rose to its full height.

It was a man in a long dark overcoat.
Fowler pulled out his gun and shouted
for him to stop. The other leaped from

field on the opposite side of the tracks.
The Captain climbed the fence snd elam-

The late Superintendent of Po-
lice James M. Maher, of Mil-
ford, who directed the manhunt

Detective

bered down to the tracks below. He leveled his gun.

“Halt or I'lk fire,” he shouted.

The fugitive increased his speed, heading for a dark patch
of woods. Fowler pressed the trigger. Then he started in
pursuit, firing again and again at the fleeing figure. . The
distance between them rapidly narrowed. Again his trigger
finger tightened. The hammer clicked on a discharged shell.
‘The gun was empty.

LOOKIN G over his shoulder, the man in the long dark over-

coat instantly sensed the situation. He drew a gun from
his pocket, leveled it and took careful aim. Fowler stood his
ground, but as he knelt down to reload he expected every
moment to be his last. When he rose to his feet the fugitive
had vanished. The police officer pressed on, following the
footsteps clearly defined in the snow.

A loud hail came from the tracks. Fowler turned. A man
ran down the embankment and joined him. He was a mem-
ber of the posse, who had been beating the woods across from
the Chernock farm and had become separated from the rest.
Together they followed the trail into the forest. They came
to a spot where the fugitive had stood before setting out in
the direction of West Haven. As the last vestige of hight had
gone, the Captain snapped on his electric torch. The foot-
steps turned toward a dark, shadowy recess. He stopped
and waited for his companion.

“Stay here a moment,” he ordered. “I’m going ahead.”

He stole cautiously on, eyes intent upon the tracks skirting
huge boulders that fronted a rock-strewn hillside. Here in-
tertwining branches had held off the snow and sleet and
the bare rock left no trail. Some bulky object lay on the
ground ahead. He turned his flashlight full on it and moved
swiftly forward. :

It was the long dark overcoat which the stranger had worn
when he disappeared into the woods. He had evidently dis-
carded this in the heat of the chase. Fowler stooped and
picked it up. He continued to advance, but the footprints

‘did not reappear.

Raising his gun he fired three shots in-
to the air. This was the signal we had
heard from Old Gate Lane. When we
arrived we found almost a hundred men
encircling the hill. We joined in the
search. Foot by foot we edged our way
through the thick underbrush.

An hour later wé were forced to admit
that the killer had again eluded us.

Captain Fowler turned the overcoat
over to Coroner Mix. He continued the
search while we drove back to the death
farm. Here Logan and Linsley identified
the coat as the one which the murderer
had worn. All of us examined this gar-
ment very carefully in the hope of get-
ting some hint as to the slayer’s identity.
We could find no tailor’s label, and the
pockets were empty. Reluctantly we put
it temporarily to one side.

T returned to the clue Maher had spread
upon the kitchen table. It was a copy
of the Bridgeport Telegram. I glanced at
the front page. It bore the date line of
that morning—Tuesday, February Ist,
1921.

“I can’t see that it tells us a thing,”
Maher said.

“Tt means that we will extend our search
to Bridgeport if the man escapes,” I an-
swered.

“Not necessarily,” the Superintendent
countered. “The paper could have been
purchased here in Milford.”

But I was not convinced.

The door opened and a dark-haired man
of medium build entered, shrinking back
as he saw the signs of tragedy.

“Where is my wife?” he asked. “Take
me to her.” ;

He cried out in despair when they led
him to the body, and his last vestige of

’

<n ;
self-rantra: Heed. Me broke down

”

The Riddle of the

Superintendent he was just about to search the house when
he had come upon the masked man. ‘

“What did he look like?”

“He had on a long dark overcoat,” Logan replied, “and a
cap pulled down over his mask.”

Maher ordered Hibbard to follow the tracks across the field.
Logan put fresh cartridges into his gun.

“I’m going along, too,” he announced. “I’ve got a score to
settle with him myself.”

HEY watched the two hurry over the field, and disappear

into the woods. The Superintendent and Fowler entered
the house. It was some time before they again emerged.
When they did it was obvious that the usually calm Maher
was badly shaken. Hibbard ran up as they stood in the
snow outside the battered door.

“The man got away,” he reported. “We lost all tracks in
the woods near the railroad.” He drew a slim folded object
from his pocket, and handed it to the Superintendent. “We
found this near some rocks. He must have dropped it.”

Maher took the object from the police officer and placed
it inside the ear.

“Where’s Chernock?” he asked Logan.

“Working over in Bridgeport. He’s not due home for
another hour or two.”

“Then I'll telephone him from your house,” the Superin-
tendent said, asking and receiving the man’s business address.
Before starting up the motor, he ordered Fowler to keep a
close watch on the house.’

“T’m having an emergency alarm broadcast,” he continued.
“We'll need a posse to hunt him down. Nobody is safe as
long as he remains at large.”

Fowler agreed. From the Logan home Maher called Head-
quarters, and then telephoned the County Courthouse in New
Haven, where he reached both Coroner Eli Mix and me. I
was at that time County Detective.

We immediately set out for Milford, nine miles away. With
us was Frank Smith, one of New England’s shrewdest news-
papermen, and now editor of the Sunday edition of the New
Haven Register.

Alarm bells were already sounding the emergency signal

Chernock, fled through the snow on a fateful February
had urged her, as she sought to escape the phantom

Van in

details not visible from above became apparent.

the Black Mask a7

when we reached the town line. Church bells pealed loudly
against the shrill overtone of the police siren. Cars packed
with men were turning down Old Gate Lane. Maher and
Fowler were waiting when we drove up, parking just behind
the police patrol. Behind us came more cars from the vil-
lage. Uniformed men kept back the growing crowd.

Quickly organizing the posse, Maher placed each group in
the hands of a uniformed police officer. The manhunt got
under way in rapid, orderly fashion. Sergeant Henry J.
Gallbronner vanished into the woods with one party; Captain
Clarence Douglass led another. Bridges and roads leading into
town were placed under guard; railroad stations covered;
buses and automobiles stopped and examined. To Captain
Fowler went the important task of guarding a near-by bridge
on the key road leading into West Haven and New Haven.
He jumped into a waiting police car and drove away.

Maher led Mix and me to the rear of the house. I glanced
inside. “Where’s Mrs. Chernock?” I asked.

The Superintendent paused by the open bulkhead and ‘shot
the beam of his flashhght down a steep flight of stairs. I
caught a glimpse of the crumpled body lying at the base, half-
covered by a burlap bag. Mix climbed down, opened his in-
strument case and set to work. When I joined him, other
I realized
death could not have been the result of a fall; the killing had
been too brutal and coldly deliberate. A steel shoe standard,
used in home cobbling sets, lay a few feet away. It was evi-
dently the death weapon.

Accustomed as I was to the sight of violent death, the
shocking condition of this woman enraged me. For the first
time in years of police work my personal emotions came to
the fore and I knew I could never rest until this slayer had
been brought to justice. Here was one man whom I intended
to see hanged. ;

But as I began my investigation I realized he had covered
his crime with diabolical cleverness. The fact that he was so
carefully masked seemed in itself important. I questioned
both Logan and Linsley at length, but they could tell me little
more than they had already told the Milford police. They
said the man was of medium height and powerfully built.
Little Mary Chernock, the only real witness to the assault,

Attractive Mary Chernock (above) as she looks today. She
was only five when she bravely strove to save her mother

“professor’

a off the Streets of
ew York and the “students”

” arived at

= Connscticure. first known school of crime,

shooting galleries and professional instructo
today contributing to the endowment funds,
to gather with fond memories. No, it has

reasons: ‘

The first graduating class proved to be a 1 disaster that
whole “college.” But the first loss, th

~ Victim on the night of November 27, 1917. sat

ts, tering the suburban quiet of
Ha Connecticut, were followed
ry for help and the thud of pounding
as forms vanished into the chill
r night. Minutes later Chief of Police
Mf .“Loomis stooped over the body of

|-dressed man in his early thirties,

‘led face down on the sidewalk of
ntial Blohm Street.
dare-headed man in raccoon coat
‘om his knees. He identified himself
ean C. Bangs of Milford and ex-
d he was playing cards across the
when he heard the shots. __

dical Examiner Victor A. Kow-
ky of Orange forced his way

sh the gathering crowd and knelt °

- the body. There were three bullet
ls, one leaving a powder burn, and
Stim had also been clubbed.
obably robbed,”’ Bangs observed.
SO, they bungled it,” Kowalewsky
1. Inside the man’s suitcoat he had
a wallet stuffed with bills of large

ination. In a lower vest as 2 he

ed a large gold watch.

mis focused his flashlight ‘on the

d face! “Does payone know this
-he asked:

| for rd,

i te

1 New Haven. So they've. gotten 2
last.” gs :

He’s Morris Gold-

of mine who runs a tailor —

< evith one

oy CURT NORRIS

‘‘What do you “mean?” the chief eee

manded.

that he’s been watched for days and that
some men followed him right to his home
on Peck Street last Saturday ents v

*‘Anyone else?’’

‘“‘His wife might know. She was with
him when he was followed. He didn’t tell
me anything more, though.”

As Sergeant John Tierney began a
search of the neighborhood, Chief
Loomis sought more information from
the bystanders. John F. Driscoll, an in-
surance agent with offices in New Haven,
said he had seen three men loitering on —
the street when he got off the New SESee
trolley about 9:30 p.m.)

‘One of them crossed the. street aad
blocked my path,’’ he told the police offi-
cial. ‘tHe stared at me for amoment, then

complete with Piaeeroorne

rs, has no- wealthy alumni
Ithas no happy reunionclasses” _
none of these: ‘and for a good: 3

pulled down, the os

e ultimate loss, was 40; an innocent _

ainchive ‘a veteran officers: He realized

... this road. was bisected a short distance *
‘“‘Goldstein said to me the: Other day :

_from town by arailroad trestle; that trains -
moved slowly at this spot because of the.

steep grade after leaving the West Haven .
depot.

-*They’re sine to hopa freight, és ~

said half aloud as he glanced at his watch.

It was 10:30 and he hastily recalled Tier-- ~

ney. ‘‘Search the tracks in the vicinity of ay

Savin Avenue,’’ he ordered. ‘‘There’s a __
freight due there at any moment and I.
think our suspects may try to hop it.’

Taking some men, the sergeant came in
- sight of the trestle just as a freight train’ —
passed from view. There was no sign of °
the wanted men near the tracks. Loomis

broadcast an alarm to all police depart- ~~
> ‘ments to watch for three men of Greek or

Italian’ extraction, one of whom had am :
twisted neck...

recrossed. the street and rejoined the- Detective William H. Deskin received ae

others and the three disappeared. rae
‘*Would you recognize this man?’: =
““Yes,”.the agent replied. ‘‘While he

was staring at me some automobile head-.

' lights were shining on his face. He looked =
~ like a foreigner in his early tysnlics: and I;
__ think he had a twisted neck.

now him,””. Coxeiaimien aman as he -

Others reported seeing then same é threes
men and several reported the men headed ©

for Savin Avenue directly: after the shoot- “

ing. Loomis thought quickly. and came up.
fi those quick edu

lookout for the suspects. This alert was ©

- this information at New Haven Police :
- Headquarters and relayed it to the Spe--
-cial Agents Office (police branch) of the ~

New York, New Haven, and Hartford a

Railroad. He added information of his —
own, Saying that the men might be riding ©
- the freights and that all tower men along
the line should notify agents to be on the ;

50-mile HAAG a oo 2s

tie Sprissher: countered” Seoolly:*
ht this train at New Haven’:
as this chap’ with you?”’: ey
-“Never saw him until I got aboard.” ”
“Your name?” | a
“Carl Lanzillo”
“And. yours?” Manion: asked the
’ second prisoner who remained silent,
}.- staring stolidly ahead. “Who was that
By man who jumped?” .
~The. first prisoner “answered, “He
a was on the train when I got on board.
Told ‘us to call him Frank.” He stared
© at the officer with -insolent. eyes.
“What’s the big idea’ of pulling us in?

, ta

“In this town’ it is,” Manion an-
ie ‘Swered; ordering. the two.men. back
to the’signal tower. He watched them
“off the bridge and then climbed down
-@°wooden ladder to the mudflats be-

Bod

iy ; me
oe p
bd ‘and he slipped it into: his: poe, be-
S Aone. Fejoining the others. -

headquarters, he‘

wy:
ie
ie
€
sie.

chad"
\“ breaking silence,

e of the two prisoners. Lanzillo

' 231-233 Water Street, New Haven.
. “Ordering them back to their: cells,
O’Dell contacted Loomis and ‘Deskin
who came to Derby by fast automo-
bile. O’Dell admitted there had been
“nothing. uncovered -to; tie them u
\ definitely with the “crime. althoug
- Manion, searching ‘beneath the rail-
“=, road trestle, had found a-brand new
«blackjack which |
‘away when captured, » Fie!
“. A-second search of th : ats benéath
the trestle revealed a :38 calibre pearl-
handled pistol loaded ‘except for. two
-- discharged shells and ®#a..44 calibre
Colt Frontier fully loaded:except for
one discharged shell:=On-the trestle
itself, police found: es tes “much worn
lackisek with discolored tip tucked
<a beneath one of the sleepers.

“Back in the courtroom above head-

ronted by. the several weapons.’ Lan-

a -zillo : fin:

ried both in his hands and swore
“to. shoot
“; anyone about seeing him. Asked what
~ he looked like; they stated they could
.) remember little about. his appearance
‘as they had met in*the dark but -both
rig my his huge
“.;,...Loomis asked O’Dell if he: had notic
anything unusual about’ Pisanello,
Lae | ‘thought he acted_as though
: + chad been in uniform,”
~~ replied. “I asked him if he had: ever
gee gon in the army.” ~.
~~. Loomis,
pe certain
“he had a
one of Goldstein’ 's slayers.”

call in your witnesses?” O’Dell asked,
; Loomis hesitated and the local police
head went swiftly on:
‘one way to make sure.” ° -
=. “How’s that?” Deskin asked.
- <~ O'Dell looked quickly towards the
-*- elosed door through which the pris-
.- -oners had vanished.

the Derby Chief

Ze AS it against the-law’ to hop a ride?” »

“low. Near a pile of coal siftings he _
‘found ‘what: he had ‘been looking for

“inthe adjoinin
.ETURNING ‘with, the prisoners ia.
notified Chief -
a ; Daniel. T. O'Dell of the capture. The ..
Chief. ‘came: down at’ once to assume

The others! ‘agreed that it sounded
e
Derby chief reminded his listeners .

sek dae FROM OFFICIAL: ALES 5;

a low voice. and he" unfolded his:

‘all right..-But. would it work?

that neither of the prisoners had met
Lieutenant Anthony Urbano now on
duty downstairs: at headquarters.

Shortly ‘after. three o’clock .. that
morning, Lanzillo and Pisanello were
led back to their cells. When they

‘entered they saw that a new inmate

dirty. and ged with a shock- o
‘tousled hair
middle cell separating the two Italians.
He swore roundly at them-for dis-
turbing his rest. Trying the doors of
all. three: cells'‘the officer went out

slamming the ‘outside door tight be-.

hind him. °
From cell i. ‘came the muffled voice
of the man who called himself Lan-

“illo: Heasked if the rotten bum had |
‘gone yet. When no one answered. he
» addressed his next inquiry to the man

cell) “Do you under-
stand Italian?” he asked
pene English when you talk to
” was the angry response.
Danvillo: ‘spoke again, this time in

Ytalian, -“By~the blood of the Ma-

ittle to” say; the second man,..~
admitted his name’ ~
- was Carmino ‘Pisanello. and that he- .
“lived ‘in the Hotel Napoli: located at’

o: had tossed

quarters, the two prisoners were con- _

y admitted the pyneesie
i) = of. the new leather. blackjack. Both:
-men.{stated the other weapons .be- .
‘longed to the man named Frank who
“had swung on board when the freight .
“through: West Haven. He car-~

em dead if they ever told -

“e ~v SAS As <3
two.men were ‘again. ed “out, © ‘Ytalian re

fies:

‘didn’t mean that,”” ? returned ‘ee
“When that man stood. in a>
position, he looked as though :
twisted neck. And SO did

“Are you sufficiently sure of this to

“There's still -

“It’s this,” he said

donna,” he cursed. “They have taken
my; shirt,”’ : ;

-“Mine,” 406." ‘replied the man in
‘Italian from the further cell. ~-

“What did you say regarding that
bloody spot?”

ei told them it was paint,” the
second youth answered and chuckled.

The two continued to chat as the
prisoner curled up in the middle cell
and.a poor ped sle
o’clock, a sleepy-eyed attendant un-
locked the middle cell and aroused
the prisoner with the tousled hair.

“Your friend has come with the
bail,” he said.

Some minutes ater, the: attendant
returned for the other: two prisoners
who were again led into the upstairs
courtroom.

Here ‘O'Dell, Loomis, Deskin and
Manion -sat waiting with ~Lieutenant
Urbano who had-not sat in on the
previous conference. _

Urbano broke the dilesan’ “What
‘did you ‘mean. downstairs by saying
the police had nothing’on you?” .

Lanzillo raised his head. At the

“ sight of the detective, he turned gray.

“So-glad you-threw your guns and

-blackjacks. away,” Urbano went on.
:~ Pisanello turned deathly pale as he, —
too, turned to face the detective.

“T see you_ recognize me,” the jieu-"

tenant stated pleasantly.
The youth’s

blood of the adonna,”

““4t’s. that drunken Irishman who was
“ “in the cell between us.” -

‘Asked: what “he had to say. the
i gage nothing and ‘his jaws
shut tigh

‘upon the faces of the men before him.
“Or was it the blood of Morris Gold-
stein?” =
“T don’t know what you are saying.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” the lieutenant
‘reminded him with hardening voice.

eat was English you were not sup-~

sed to understand.. Remember when

illo here asked what would hap-

pen if Goldstein should die and you.
replied you didn’t know?” —
“J remember no such talk.”

“Well, I do,” the detective retarted *
“Perhaps you remember you also said: é

ad been put in the.

. Soon-after five .

See

» “Nothing,” repeated Urbano in per-'

fect ‘Italian. “Especially

“ talked over? Have you forgotten those ~
-shirts?..-Are you sure that it was just

paint?” “:He -paused,*

after all you ~

‘grimly intent ~

“Frank ‘was akg he got be
ke truer than you knew.’
idstein is dead. ‘You mur

That means the rope.”” >.

“You know-. everything,” Pisanelio

exclaimed.
- “Everything,” the detective - of
Italian descent agreed.

‘“You. have ken true,” gas ed.
Lanzillo. rie ¢ P. 2
“Then you did kill him,” Loomis
broke in.
“I had a gun but ‘edict shoot,’ ams

FTAKEN into an adjoining room,
Lanzillo talked more freely.

said he had gone to West Haven wit
Pisanello and Frank to learn how
do the holdup game. When a ‘man
finally came along, Pisanello told him
to put his hands up and when he didn’t:
“do it,’ Pisanello fired one shot -and
Frank fired two. He hada gun bu
didn’t shoot. The three then ran down
Savin Avenue, caught ae freight and

came to Derby.
~. - Pisanello, interviewed: ‘separately,
Goldstein had been selected for a vic
‘tim, “he replied that Louis” ‘Lanzillo
_ gold watch and offered“ him -a price
if he could get it. ;
West Haven that Saturday ig but:
had not attacked him because he had “ih
had waited until. Monday and then:
attacked. He had fired. into the ‘air;
and Carl Lanzillo had struck him *
many. times: with the. broken black-- “Hi
“Who is |
Loomis. Pisanello didn’t know. © We ae
Pisane
was taken out and Lanzillo bro nay
~.“There are several things we
“When you talked with us: ‘before: yo
told us your companions were goi
ee e. What do a bse mean by- that?”
e prisoner did not reply. “You'd:
“Your companion has.. And he’s: ve
us a lot about your brother.
“If he’s told you ‘that, I'm ready to.
tell you all I know,” he said. “It was
uae to: : be - big-shot. crooks and.
enty,.of easy money.”
a coi de args saa ‘to do that?
-City to teach us.”
"You mean there’s a school for
angrily. re
“Sure, why not?” Lanzillo.
a ‘cop; we go to school to learn how
‘beat. you cops. Only fools- ‘
“What did you learn?”
“Frank, he’s one st!
they know him as the Little Gang
ster’. He showed us eve One
into houses, how ‘to steal.”
‘Down at the Hotel Napoli.’
“And this holdup was: just

added further details. Asked . why.
' Carl’s brother, had admired the man’
They had followed | Goldstein “to
his wife and child with him. So the
Frank shot into the man’s body twice.
Ni this. man Frank?” ask
Urbano was not satisfied.
understand,” ~ the detective stat
to show you how to do. the holdu
‘better talk,” Urbano advised .
Lanzillo’s face flamed with ange anger.
as: I cape ‘Frank said he would teac!
“He was brought up from New’

.in New Haven!” Deskin xen
smiling. “You go to school ‘to, beco: i
America.”
other bragged. “Down in’
to shoot, how to pick locks

“Where do you hold this 8c
the course?” Deskin ejacu

- After we did this he was goin
--teach us the black hand language
‘then we were through. So we
- Jooking” around f guy”

a Jot. of dough to try it on.”

cut in. ae
“Carmelo Battiata,” was the reply..
“He’s the man who runs the hotel. He
got Frank. He said he was his son and
he would teach us how to get money.
-So he let us live free at his, hotel and
didn't charge us a cent.”
~“Then Frank’s name is Battiata?”
The prisoner didn’t know. He only
knew he was afraid of Frank. He was
a good shot with evil eyes which bore
ou through. Finally the police
_ learned that the man was five feet,
.-six inches in height, weighed 135 to
140 pounds, was 22 to 24 years old, had
a thin face with protruding eyes.
. Pisanello. admitted the ownership
of the .44 calibre-revolver and stated
the pearl] handled weapon belongéd to
Frank. Another revolver. later: found
beneath the trestle was identified as
the property of Carl Lanzillo.
* Early next morning Loomis, Urbano
and Deskin returned to New Haven
and placed Louis Lanzillo under ar-
rest. From there they continued to the
‘Hotel Napoli with Detectives Stanley
<> Gianelli, Harry Tuttle, James P.-Cur-
rier and Edward F. Lawlor. Unan-
nounced, they walked in upon the
dark-skinned wavy-haired proprietor
who denied all knowledge of a man
called Frank. But they learned from
other sources that a man answering
his description had been sharing a
downstairs room with Carl Lanzillo.
- In a trunk were uniforms belonging
to Pisanello with a dog tag
showing that he had once been a
private in Company B, 2nd Connecti-
‘cut Infantry of the United States
venhy & Further search revealed the
hotel ‘was a. veritable arsenal.:
The cellar had been laid out for a

“| to represent human figures found

Amos Dickerman, .the Winchester
Arms expert, later identified bullets
found in the basement and _ bullets
from the body of the dead man as
ones which had been shot from the
uns identified as the. property of
isanello and the man named.
Battiata was placed under arrest.
Pisanello was. identified. by Driscoll,
».<-Moulter and Johnson as “the man with
“the twisted neck,” and Carl Lanzillo
was recogni r the barber as one
+ of the men who ‘had loitered outside
his shop on :the Saturday’ night pre-
ceding the crime. — - sien MONS Re
‘However, the most dangerous mem-
ber of the gang had escaped.
.. Carl and Louis Lanzillo and C.
Pisanello, recently discharged from
the army after service in Mexico, went
-on trial February 12, 1917, charged
~ with first degree murder and all were

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he told the
group. “We'll take an enlarged map
of the First Hill district where most
of the fires have been set and divide
the district into sections.

‘3 me Crews of igri bres each will take
a_section and patrol it nightly. Espe-
cially watch a 2 oe ae ‘ae

“Who started this school?” Deskin .

shooting gallery with targets carved”
-huddled against lead-spattered- walls. |

Frank..

ms to enjoy: watching them ‘burn.

COMPLETE DETECTIVE CASES

found guilty and sentenced to be

hanged. On April 6, 1917, Battiata
was ae ey of manslaughter
and senten to fifteen years at State
Prison in Wethersfield. ;
America awoke the next day to find
she was at war with Germany. While
she was rapidly being turned into an
armed camp, the youth of the nation
submitted themselves for registration
in the draft. :
From a former boarder at the Hotel
Napoli, detectives learned about sev-
eral tattoo. marks which the mys-
terious Frank had on both arms. On
the right was a woman wearing a
sailor’s hat’ and on the left a heart
stabbed b
Thomas F. Egan of the State Police
breadcast this information in “Wanted
Circulars” all over the world.
- Through a prescription found on a
medicine bottle belonging to Frank,
Giannelli traced the man back to

- Waterbury where he had lived under

the name of Dominick Macello. From
here the detective followed the trail
to Marcus: Hook where he -secured
2m gr ence with the General Chem-
i Company, using the same alias.
In August, 1917, he enlisted under.
that name with the 6th Regiment,
Company F, encamped at Chester. On
September. 10th, the day before the
regiment left for overseas, he deserted.
From there the trail was lost.

ta New York. and Brooklyn detec-
tives kept ceaselessly at work
through underground channels and on
December 4, information from a mys-
terious source e to the 6th Branch

Detective Bureau in Brooklyn that a ~
man named Frank Dusso, arrested the. .

day before in connection with woman

trouble in Philadelphia, should be

more carefully investigated.

- “Where can I find this man?” De-
teetive Bernard *Grottano asked his

informant. er
_“He’s sitting in your front office
right: at this moment.”

~.Grottano. went to the door and

looked: out.” As he gazed at the man,
vague memories in his retentive brain
began ‘to--stir.: He walked over to

’ where he was sitting..

“What-is your name?” he asked.
The prisoner: looked..up.. “I came
here as .Frank- Dusso,” he answered,

“but that is not ‘my true riame. I am

Peter Spanetto.” -

-The detective reached down: pulled:

up the man’s coat sleeves and stared

at the tattoo marks clearly visible on .
each arm. “Any proof, Spanetto?” -he.

asked quietly:

“The best in the world,” the other .—

answered.
ernment.”
“How. so?”

“The United States gov-

a stiletto. Superintendent .

‘identify the fugitive and there was

_ he went on trial in Superior Court in;
- testified against him and he was found

’ gave an innocent person from em- .

5 ope

” he replied, reach- a

“My draft card a
drawing it. 4

ing into his ‘pocket an
out.

Grottano read it carefully, noti
that it appeared in good order an
returned it. “So you come from
Waterbury, Connecticut,” he re-
marked. . z ‘

“That’s right.”

The detective vanished into the
private ‘office. of Captain Coghlin.
Some minutes later he had Giannelli
on the phone. .

“We’re holding a man here at the
detective bureau in .Brooklyn who
says he’s Peter Spanetto of Water-
bury, Connecticut,” he said. “He has
a draft card to prove. this but I also
noticed he has tattoo marks on his
arms which correspond in every way.
with those of a killer mentioned ina ~
‘Wanted Circular’ sent us more than a -
year ago in connection with a killing
up your way of,a man by the name
of Goldstein. Are you interested?”

“You just bet I am,” the New Haven
detective returned. “I’m on my way.”

When Giannelli walked into the De-
tective Bureau at dusk that ‘evening,
he ‘was not alone. With him were
several witnesses who said they could

also a stranger whom he did not intro-
duce. -Dusso was brought into Cogh-
lin’s private office.

“Who did you say you were?” the
detective-asked sharply. .

“Peter Spanetto,” the man answered.
“You are not!” The stranger with
Giannelli before he could be ©
restrained. “I am Peter Spanetto and
you know I speak the truth. I was

your friend in Waterbury.” ane

“T never saw you before,” returned
the prisoner. “I can : jabato I am.
Here is my draft card.”

“My draft card you mean,” the real
Peter Spanetto retorted trying to
snatch it from him. “You stole it from
me when I came down to visit you
several months ago and I’ve been in:
hot water ever since.” : lS

New Haven. witnesses definitely
picked Dusso as the long sought Frank.
Waiving extradition, he was returned
to that city where more witnesses
identified him.

On Wednesday, January 16, 1918, »

New Haven. His former colleagues

SET past |
appeals refused, Dusso. and his
companions, receiving as little mercy-
as they had given the defenseless —
Goldstein, ascended the gallows and
paid with their lives.

(The name Spanetto is fictitious to

barrassment.)

SNARING SEATTLE’S FIRE FIEND

(Continued from page 29)

And keep an eye on fire alarm boxes.
He has: a eute little habit of putling
a false alarm after setting a fire.

“I needn’t say how important it is
that we catch this madman. He’s al-
ready caused thousands of dollars
worth of damage. And that’s only up
to today—February 7, 1939.”

Smithrud and I were teamed up

together. The section we were to
watch was: the district from Broad
way Avenue to Boylston Avenue an
from Union Street to Pine Stree
about a quarter mile square.

We were told to be sure and inspect
the halls and lavatories of all apart
ment houses that left front doors un=
locked at night. It was a habit

LANZILLO & PISANELLO, whites, hanged Conn. (West Haven) on 6-17-1918,

Carmelo Battiata, proprietor of

Hotel Napoli, imported a New

York gangster to teach students
the fundamentals of crime.

(Editor’s note: Author-historian Curt Norris, a frequent contributor to this magaz
is a specialist ik recreating crime classics that occurred at the turn of the century through.
out New England. In this account, he opens the book — and closes it — On @ Stranos
graduating class on an even stranger assignment.) nge

A. tae
ey

ms
#2. G:

bp aft Sade
Fo AE Ca
*

hed

eat “oe
j & BY ee

STE SUR, RECT LORE TERT ee nT erm top

4° yy
be
BS

Business card of the Hotel Napoli,
headquarters for the crime”

. wooden targets in human form

NBS, ee ee

«J _» Se y once :
The Gofpel to be preached co all Men, a
ILLUSTRATED, IN A

SERMON,

DELIVERED, IN WINDHAM,

At the EXECUTION of
Samuel Freeman,

A Mutatfo,

November 6, A.D. 1805,
For the MURDER of
HANNAH SIMONS.

TOGETHER WITH AN

APPENDIX,
CONTAINING, -
MEMOIRS of Ais LIVE,
A SKETCH of Ais TRIAL,
Yus APPEARANCE arrer CONDEMNY TION,

CONFESSIONS, &e.

*SogT ‘91 cequieaoN SqnoTyoouu0D SueypuT pesueYy ‘ronwes "NWR

nS NE PL EIT ~——t-

By MOSES C. WELCH, A.M.

PASTON OF THE CHURCH IN NOSTH*MANSPIELO, “0
a + ai
SOR TOT ee hah Dseem tae Sine 0 eS TT WF aT .
é

WINDIAM ¢ PRINTLD BY FOUN GENE, 805. ~

5 | e2 ;
ae |
} H 6 : : :
ze 6 aa: _ es ok
~4 . Fecovery, to life an . ° ¢ 5: ; . , * 9 oy
Yf pel is empha Pappinels. In this “iew the gof. . to Chrift, the great facrifice of atonement. Yea, and hs
d : perfons Confined ic food yes Were 4 number of | ; all were founded onthe firft promife of God, after ea
- and the da’ a ss iy inaer fentence of death,: the lapfe of our fr parents, that the feed of the woman Fs 4
‘ c ! we hea; ‘ : P ‘ e ‘ “£
j Matron of : ee lor their =) C@siOn, a procla- Should brutfe the erpent’s head, This brought into view tee.
aa - pardor 1 ee é ae eae .
ti then. Shonia Baa a good news, indeed, RO: by oes purpofe of God, and contained the effence and m4
1 and announce 5s ; i a oe the chicf magiilrate,; f =~ foundation of the golpel, It was, indeed, the very s 3
| rena fsin i. ‘ ue public will that ‘On condition of, i beginning of a preached golpel to fallen man; ane ee
: a4 ‘ t Y ; : ees ahs ¥ o " . 3 :
a ae and fer = fiber: heh Bey thouldbe {pared # + on this were founded all the promifcs to the patriarchs, .
; } : : rt [ Der . 3 2 nee wc ; . ‘ : ‘
oe ameffenser of ys the herald would be.confidered as, | and all the doétrines pertaining to redemption and be
ae HS i x Brace, and the heart of every convi@: - Bivins eae aa ry ad ‘
~ i “ BOT poy So the £0lpel, which pens adoor of, {; | ae a
! peace, and Offers. terms of pard "e ts { . ae ts tnt &
: and oukhe to b. . Pardon to the finncr, ‘is, , Were it not for the divine purpofe which was bro’t bet
H do ba e or . i '. ; 7 ’ i ‘i
i, meflen sey from | conhdered as §00d news.‘ Hence the: |} to view in the promife that the feed of the woman ‘3
{ fhepherd; the) mae eG ee he announced to the; tould bruife the ferpent’s head, the g0fpel never would c
| oa &. © -birta ot Chri : ‘ he 4 > a : 7 _ bo
melfave with « Behol?. Pyne introduced the joyful, have been preached to man, nor could finners ever \. q
Oe snk inh ie 24 CTIMS you good tidingsofgreab; | have had a fingle offer of mercy. But, this notwith- 2
' Jf, which fhall be to alt scople, “pom Ts 4s { ales 5 f pillars whicl f Rog
Bp wa | oe od Stag ne we S ftanding, as there are a number of pi Othe uF anes rod
j Tn 5 ge eT. , ¥ ildi "eg certain traths. of holy? fog
to, .Butin this difcourfe I fhall ; } port a building, fo there are certain trui! 7 bat
tj _ to” the Obedience: roar. 20t.confine the idea: writ which are the fundamental fupports of the got | bog
ro Confequent ato fs “rings of Chrift, and the; | pel, and are, therefore, moft important and cifenual. fis
ented, in the Nea a Namen the, Offers of life pre-, of Amcuig thefe, and as the firft in order, it may be obler-" ‘3
{4 confides the feel TeRament. tothe Gnner. |] fhall* j ved that, thercis one Only fupreme, ‘eternal God, in-: j
. i. 4 as e . een F oe : q : . . é . -
nbd truth—the doGrines, ig iting ee hole 'yfem of [ *° finite in every natural and moral attribute—the fir ft f: |
: ICs ener; 7 . ; . ‘. 7 errs a
All thet dottiines tithes dicate edin the bible, i caule and creatoi of all things, It Is cqually true Po
fo ave refpeet oe Seana brass BOTS remotely, _ * that God governs his creation, even every part of ic, beg
f vation of finncrs fae And falvation, 7 ne fal-- 1% according to: a-plan fixed and determined from ctern- po
uM MW ern ~ , _ 2 L oe . 4 A . yd, : . .
which cmplo “ado Bnet, was the grcat obje& , ; - dy; and yct that this is done in (uch a manner as, in:
i! everlaQins . fee: fn dice ae Heart of! God from { no fenfe ‘or degree, to infringe upon, or affect the 2
riety of ste ovens eomPlith this was all thatva.. frecdoin of any rational creature, Men are perfeéily [
-_ Chritt ex; : “» ‘rom tne Morning of time, till - frec—they at voluntarily ia all they do.
1 X} ree on mount Calvary, This, as a golden . t i Rees . eres
Ntea TNs throthe facred wo, - aT se pee rs , att ; ;
a Whole fyftem of e Gate voluine; and to this, ‘the : The gofpel teaches, alfo, that God exifteth in a
revea . ‘ f . : $ acs i
dodtrine of revelation trath, has relpeet, _ All the. my ficrious manner, in three difting perfons, called
‘ : . Avi of Tr * . ; ‘ . ; , : net
i - ther, and conneéeg in connected with one -ano- in the {criptur®s, Favier, Son and foxy Guosi ;
j the falvotion Of hic’ } ga the Pian .of God for, k 2nd that this God, even, cach perfon of the Vrinity
‘oo? pONe bc i S eles . . ; A, . ee f . : ‘ '
4 Prophets, from Abra} All'the Preaching of the - + -a@teth an ‘ipportant part in the affair of falvation,
ios Pe C fhe ant eo rtam. to Motes,:and from Mofes':: { . :
; 4d) “e aod al] 3 ee pipes J. 4% . ‘7 + ; . . . “LO 7
te year be SOG au the factificesiand O@Crings, pointed : - DThot mankind, tho created in the image of God, in
‘ a a ‘ 4 es
ee a : | .
' ~ ; yo . j ;
Yoo: a | . |
_ | =—
\- } ye i 4
‘ > 7 ae ae 7 i

acreisienienn

Sc cieiar a te >
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as 4
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wa ; -
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ye . --~ - > *
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py ge 1G nn

OL ne ne er ree =

RE peer meen pment TS

s .
A ee
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Se tT ee We a? i
xs rate :
SF LO RS LOR ON ELTON SEEN ATID LAN ATT IL DY AN
at OL OO OI ae DOD ALIS hE IAI ALM OLLIE. na

LOY FI EN OR GON OG Sa TOP OE LOE ON Le LD
WF a td ED aD LID DPD ee ee daa)
; are aoe > *

Se Whi sis “y ee ie eS ee ae ee oae

é ,

yn DBE Gofpel to be preached, Behase 2

- : 4 ' ‘
CS gel ES ® t t :
eo. ; . of ee 8

‘
‘

re ia. es a. Rely Bada eee ee

; ‘ Ps . MARK XVI, 15. dae i vue j .

a te GS

AND HE SAID UNTO THEM, GO YE INTO ALL THE WORLD, AND
PREACH THE GOSPEL TO EVERY CREATURE,

\ eT a bee ge ait Yt -
8 (sop islove. ' Inthe cxercife of the
infinite benevolence of his own heart, he formed an_
eternal plan. of.creation and providence. In that
plan, which involved the fall of man, was included,
the purpofe of redemption, and raifing a church ont.
‘of the ruins of the apoftafy.: To accomplifh this.
divine purpofe the cocqual Son of God was appoint.
ed, and, voluntarily undertook to appear among men, °
in the fleth, and do and fuffer all that was neceffar

to effet an atonement. .“* Ye know, faith the apofile

the grace of our Lord Jefus Chrift, ‘that tho he was.

rich, yet for your fakes he became poor, that ye thro’
his poverty might be rich.” ae ree; cre

ee ° ¥

The divine Savior, according to the counfcl ‘and *
appointment of God, was born in Bethlehem, -under
the reign of TiBcrius, and, in the courfe of about'thir- ~
ty three years and an half, performed and accomplifh-
ed the greateft, and moft important work. After-a.
{cene of labors, poverty, contumely and abufe, be-"
yond any thing ever before witneffed, he finifhed his |
luiferings by dying onthe crofs, That the {criptures

ee eee geen pe LO EE

apne erry
TED er ae. Og OE ee ee tT mT ib

——
aw

A
~~

=
2
ee
Re
4
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=
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a
sf
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4
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nae
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ee mds cowie dined = .
et bid e-digntgpialina boren bredivtgg

ne es

¢ 4°}

concerning him might be fulfilled, and the purpofe

of God carricd into effet, his body was laid in the’

tomb; and.on the third day, triumphantly arole from-
the dead, and thus Gnifhed the work of redemption.

The refurreétion of Chrift was an unexpected e-
vent ; and was, therefore, not believed by the apof-
tles but upon the fulleft evidence. The report of
Mary, after fhe had feen him, was rejected ; and fo’

was that of the two difciples who faw, and converfed
Nor were they —

with, him on the way to Emmaus.
convinced until he appeared to the eleven when they
were together—fhew them his hands and his feet, and
gave them the moit indubitable, convincing evidences
of the intercfling fa€t. To them, after removing all

doubts from their minds, he gave the commiffion in’.
the text, Go s¢ into all the world, and preach the gofpel to

ever'p, creature. x oe oe” «
re Ey thd ak wet ets HV d aste a ste! ete eae is asa 8,
ce ee ee OL Tae ee ee eT Aer A
> Phis-conimifion, in the nature snd (pirit of 1t, €x-,

ey
ales

tended td the’ minifters ‘of Chrift in every age of the |

world. Not only the eleven, but allin after ages Were y
jacluded, and the duty of every one who fhould, 1m,
any ‘period of time, be called to the evangelical min- ;
ifliy jaeas, coneifely’, pointed XV Se Re er

’

The words, before: uss ta this view of them, may,
roe on at gp td | 7a - . ‘ ‘
lead us, on this intércfling occafion, to, notice the fol-.

\ ena) é . portad wb SR lptee «** et Bee ‘ ™ a i” =
lowing things. -* Mo fate od cibedagh (83

I. Whatare we to underftand, by the gofpel.:, ale
“on (puted gia Oe iat rout Cs ame ee bar eee:

at
¢ , {
‘

li.’ “Flic commiZion 0. the’ minifiering fervants | of";

etett yee tats IIS leeds COPS Te: 3 j
: raya? afovevies _ s- . 2. Ye ‘ oy i ier See te oe
IIT: Thofe callea to the work are ta preach: the gol-,
: pel to aces creator: stars. |G. row rae ee: eer Lente

pIMIGayak el Pre MS er ere we lle

5
t°

cee nee ay TO Oe

———er

— meee

Ane er er eer

nee ne RE ES TIT

-true charaéter, require it, all muft periflt.

C 5-34

ov 7+ -Toam td confider, <7 °°!

~
?

heya Se area

5 fe
I. What we are-to underftand by the cofpcl.

« Before attenaing; particularly, to this point, we
may paufe a moment, and confider that the gofpel 18

defigned for two very important énds. > Oneis the’

glory of God, and the other, the falvation of periin-
ing finners. SIE the glory of God, in a difplay of his
But he has:
devifed the beft poflible way to difplay his character,
and do honor to his divine perfe€ions. - This is done:
not imply by rendering the falvation: of fome of tne
fallen'tace poMible, bat by making it, in faét, a patt
of the divine plan. | tn view of this, infiaitcly wife
and benevolent plan the proplict might, truly, fay,
«“ Mercy and truth are met together ; righteoutnels..
and peace have kiffed each other.” This renders the
golpel, infinitely, ‘Important, as well as, unfpeakabiy,
recious. If the gofpel be defisned to make a plort-’

ous difplay of the divine chara€ter, in the falvation oF

finners, then it Is interefting to eVcry creature to"
{earch into it and fec what itis. «' ' )
tt ’ ioe “3 : ‘ 7 a) ‘ . P , rey

Some have faid we are to underftand by the got:
pel, a gracious conflitution of God for the recovery’
of Gnful man, from that {late of inifery into whica he
had fallen, by fencing his own fominto the ficlh, to’
make an atonement for fin by his death, and procuré:
pardon and falvation for eaean ) OE 2 Pr Sab

: The gofpel js confidered by’ (ome, and not impro=
perly, as good news. This may be’ underfiood a3 the
proper meaning of the word, in the original -of the
New Teftament. « And it conveys a sufi idea when '

:
’
‘

we conGder tho pofpel as opening to the finner, who_

is deeply. convicted, of his lott and' miférable Mate’
and immediate expofednets io'cternal death, a way of

~ re

“1 «

Sane el eee ayer”

ee te Oe ry ES

weer, Op Oe
x
Mallia 2S. y ‘ - nsseinitebien os / rn ;
F . . Tver

RI errr,”
* Sa ha ° a Stee ae ne Ne
whys

wrgtey

7
‘4
a
4
-4

TO, Omer re eee a

an ee

Lining in this trunk proved
more important than mystery
clothing lying inside.

blanks every few minutes, and I as-
sumed the sound I heard was just an-
other blank. What’s more, I’d noticed
Mr. Korzinski when he left the house
earlier, and I must say, he appeared to
have been celebrating. So when I
saw him lying there, I just figured
he’d taken that one too many.”

At 11:05 a neighbor emerging from
No. 19 came upon Korzinski’s body,
immediately recognized the true na-
‘ture of the situation and raised the
alarm. Not long thereafter, official-
dom was on the scene. Those present

included Coroner Charles A. Doten; ©

Dr. F.B. Downs, the medical exam-
iner; Supt. of Police Eugene Bing-
ham, and assorted patrolmen and de-
tectives, including Capt. Arthur
Arnold and Detective George Simon.

After the coroner and his physician
had made their preliminary examina-
tion and had seen to the removal of
Korzinski’s body, and while Detec-
tive Simon set out to scour the neigh-
borhood for information, Captain Ar-
nold ascended to the Korzinski
apartment on the second floor.

Those whom the detective faced
there numbered a dozen-odd, for, it
appeared, the Korzinskis had been en-
tertaining. Arnold listened to the avo-
wals of the guests that they knew
nothing of the murder, took down
their names and addresses, and then
said: “All right. You’d better leave
now. I'll get in touch with you if I
need you.”

The guests hurried out the door,
leaving Arnold alone with Helen
Korzinski. The young woman sat on
a sofa, dabbing at, her eyes with a
lace-fringed handkerchief. She looked
younger than the 32 years she ad-
mitted to; her features were finely
chiselled; her form mature, but slim;
and her black, lustrous eyes, Arnold
felt, suggested she’ was capable of a

high degree of emotion.

| She answered the detective’s ques-
fions intelligently, but to no illuminat-
ing end. She was at a loss, she de-
clared, to. explain her husband’s
murder. Their married life. was hap-
py; he was satisfied and secure in his

When he took on the
murder case, the
detective had to revise
his schoolday ‘three Rs.’
Seems one plus one
sometimes adds up to a.
== triangle. :

job, and she knew of no enemy who

would want to kill him. '
“We had a fine day today,” Helen

asserted. “We. saw the parade, then

went to the park and heard the, speak-.

ers. Martin felt so. good that: we de-
(continued on page 51)

TR askew

wadnoonaoauvx<

Murder On The Fourth Of July

(continued from page 9)

cided to have a little party to which
we invited several friends. Then,
about 10:30, Martin said he wanted
to end the day with a real toast—that
he was going for some champagne.
He left to get it, and...”

As Arnold regarded the new wid-
ow with sympathy, he heard a key.
turn in the apartment-door lock, fol-
lowed by the sound of footsteps
crossing the hallway. Then a young
man, apparently in his mid-20s, blond
and good looking, walked into the
parlor “Helen,” he addressed Mrs.
Korzinski in a heavily accented voice,
“I just heard...It’s awful...”

Helen Korzinski nodded dolefully a
half dozen times, then collected her-
self and introduced the newcomer to
the detective. He was George Dolin,
she said, and he rented a room in the
apartment. Arnold cast his eye about
the well-furnished parlor and won-
dered why the Korzinskis, who
looked to be comfortably off, could
find it necessary to augment their in-
come:

Helen, following his gaze, seemed
to understand its import. “We didn’t
need the money,” she said, “but
George is a Pole, like us, and just get-
ting started in this country. He feels at
home here. Martin and I have taken in
two or three like him since we’ve
been married.”

After a few minutes’ conversation,
George Dolin went to his room over-
looking the street. Noting that the
hour was late, Arnold informed He-
len Korzinski that he would resume
his inquiry in the morning.

As he rose to go, the doorbell rang,

and a few seconds later, Detective Si- -

mon strode into the apartment. He
drew Arnold aside and in an urgent
whisper said: “Some of the people in
the neighborhood have been telling
me about a fellow named Dolin who

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lives here. Several of them are sure
they saw him with a gun today and—
get this!—that around nine tonight he
was sitting at the window of his
room with the gun in his hand!”

It was certainly a provocative re-
port and one that caused Arnold ‘to
add one and one together rapidly and
come up with an interesting possibili-
ty involving a triangle. Helen was a
pretty vibrant woman; Dolin was a
handsome youth. The detective
stepped to ‘Dolin’s door, entered
without knocking and found the
youth still dressed.

When the officers began to question
him about the possession of a gun,
and his whereabouts for the time of
Korzinski’s murder, Dolin flushed
darkly and lost his, at best, slim mas-
tery of the English language. He be-
came more disconcerted when Simon
pulled from a bureau drawer a .32 re-
volver which smelled strongly of cor-
dite.

By the time the trio reached Ar-
nold’s office, Dolin had gained a grip
on himself and was able to answer
the questions put to him. He confirm-
ed that the gun was his and that he
had fired it during the day.

“But it only had blanks in it,” he
protested. “I wanted to be patriotic—
like everybody else. Yes, I was sit-
ting at my window around nine. I
even fired into the air—but only
blanks.”

Dolin went on to say that shortly
after nine he had left the apartment,
and called on two friends, whose
names and addresses he supplied.

“What about Mrs. Korzinski?” Ar-
nold inquired. “Are you pretty good
triends with her?”

Dolin began to nod, then caught the
real implication of the question. He
reddened and said: ‘“She’s all right, I

‘guess, but I liked Martin better. He
‘was a fine man, a good man.”

Pending a check on his alibi in the
morning, Dolin was remanded to a
cell. But it was not too late for the de-
tectives to make a call at the morgue
and have a talk with Dr. Downs.

The detectives recalled that the vic-
tim had been shot in the chest, as he
was entering the house. He would
thus have made an excellent target
for a man sitting at a second-floor,
front window, with a gun at the

ready. Dr. Downs had just finished
his task in the dissecting room when
Arnold and Simon reached the
morgue. They told the medical ex-
aminer what was on their minds, and
in reply he shook his head vigorously.

“It couldn’t have happened that
way,” the doctor declared. “The en-
try angle of the bullet was almost ab-
solutely straight. Whoever shot
Korzinski was standing just about
level with him. Furthermore, from
the position in which Korzinski was
found, I feel sure he was facing the
street, and not the building; when he
was shot. I’d guess the killer saw
him head toward the. door and called
to him. Korzinski turned around and
the gunman plugged him.” Downs’
opinion settled one string to the Dolin
bow. Even if he had still been at his
window at 10:55—contrary to his
claim—he could not have shot
Korzinski. It remained to be seen if he

had actually been in the company ofa

friend at the critical time—or if he
could have been lurking on Clinton
Street.

By ten the next morning, Detec-
tive Simon had talked with the
friends Dolin had named. The results
were by no means clear cut, but the
preponderance seemed to be in the
man’s favor. Both friends declared
they had seen Dolin at different times
between 9:15 and 11:30 the previous
evening, but neither could swear pos-
itively being in his company at pre-
cisely 10:55. In the circumstances,
Amold ordered Dolin’s release, and
then he and Simon turned to other
avenues of investigation.

They went out to Clinton Street
and launched further inquiries among
people in the neighborhood who had
not been available for questioning the
night before. At the end of an hour or
so, they felt that out of all the rumor
and speculation that came their way,
one aspect of it was potential pay

‘dirt. This had to do with a man who

had been seen on Clinton Street the
previous evening.

The most explicit of the statements
concerning him was given to the de-
tectives by Mrs. Emma Andersen,
who lived at No. 13 Clinton Street,
three doors down from the Korzinski
building.

“I sat on my porch for several hours
last night,” she declared. "I went to
bed at 10:30, and I guess I was asleep
when this terrible: thing happened.

(continued on next page)
51

Murder On The Fourth Of July

(continued from page 51)

But during the last hour I was on the
porch, I noticed a man walking up
and down the street.

“He was short, stocky, and had on
a tan cap. I saw his face, but I don’t
think I could describe it very well to
you—although if I were to face him,
I’m, sure I’d recognize him. As he
paced the street, I got the definite im-
pression he was keeping an eye on
No. 19,74 <3, ;

“Would you:say he was a stranger
in the neighborhood?” Arnold asked.

“Well...not exactly,” Mrs. Ander-
sen replied. “I know he doesn’t live
on. the block, but I’ve seen him
around here.” .

Others to whom the detective
talked corroborated Mrs. Andersen’s
testimony concerning the tan-capped
stroller. One, Mrs. Vinnie Irvin, who
lived next. door to No. 19, gave the
officers a mild jolt when she said: “I
saw that short, stocky fellow on the
street last night, yes, but I didn’t think
much of it. Many times in the last six
months, I’ve noticed him going into
the Korzinski building.”

On hearing this, Captain Arnold re-
alized that he was building up the

same sort of suspicion he had held a

few hours earlier concerning Helen
Korzinski and the roomer. Objective-
ly, he knew his suppositions were
probably premature and scarcely well
founded.

However, it was well within rea-
son to question Helen about the short,
stocky, tan-capped stranger. Conse-
quently, the captain and Detective Si-
mon paid a visit to the Korzinski
apartment.

Helen received them impassively
and listened to what they had to say
with an alert intelligence. She ap-
peared fittingly subdued, but if she
had spent any sleepless hours, the fact
did not register on the lean freshness
of her face. When Arnold described
the man who had been seen in the
street, and asked if she had any idea
who he was, Helen considered for a
long moment, then replied:

“I can’t think of anyone I know
who looks like that. Of course I may
be mistaken, but I doubt if what you
say has anything to do with poor
Martin’s death. If that man came to
visit in this building, it was certainly
not here. Other families have apart-

ments here, you know.”

Captain Arnold allowed the subject
to drop, but, out of a habit of thor-
oughness, turned to another. “Mrs.
Korzinski,” he said, “to be frank with
you, we have almost nothing to go on
this case. I’m sure you want to help
us and I hope you won’t mind if we
look through your husband’s things,
and the rest of the apartment. There’s
the chance that something which has
no significance to you might be useful
to us.”

Helen nodded agreement and led
the detectives, first, to the bedroom
she had shared with her husband. A
search through his personal effects
there and through the contents of a
desk in the foyer yielded nothing
which seemed pertinent to the matter
of murder.

Then, with Helen still acting as
guide, Arnold and Simon went
through the other rooms of the apart-
ment, with equally negative results.
However, in a spare bedroom, they
paused for a few moments after Ar-
nold had opened the door of a closet.
On the closet floor stood a steamer
trunk. Arnold lifted the lid, sifted
through its contents, and saw that it
contained a fairly complete man’s
wardrobe. “Your husband’s?” Arnold
asked, glancing at Helen.

“Oh, no,” she replied. “That be-
longs to a man named Alexander

-Herman, who used to have a room

with us. He never came for it.”

Intrigued at the idea of a man who
would abandon several hundred dol-
lars worth of clothing, Arnold drew a
fuller story from Helen. She ex-
plained that prior to moving to Clin-
ton Street, nine months before, she
and her husband had occupied a flat at
37 Railroad Avenue.

They had lived there for about six
months, she said, and for part of that
time had rented a room to Herman,
another Pole, in much the same spirit
as they had later taken in George Do-
lin.

“Just before we came here,” Helen
declared, “Herman left. He said he
would call for his trunk, but I’ve nev-
er seen him from that day to this. My
husband and I asked around about
him, but nobody seems to know
what became of him. If he doesn’t
claim his stuff pretty soon, I guess I'll

give it away.”

Over a belated lunch in a nearby
restaurant, Arnold and Simon sized
up their position. It was not, they
agreed, very strong. Someone had
coolly, carefully, shot down Martin
Korzinski, and they were without
any concrete idea as to who the killer
was.

At best they had heard talk of a
mysterious, tan-capped individual,
who might, or might not, be related
to the case. In their conversations
with neighborhood residents, the de-

‘ tectives had not neglected to inquire

of any disagreement between the
dead man and his wife. The answers
they had received seemed to indicate
that, on the contrary, their relations
were easy and normal.

“PII tell you what,” Arnold said fi--

nally. “We can’t lose anything by
asking a few questions over on Rail-
road Avenue, where the Korzinskis
used to live. Let’s see what the neigh-
bors there have to say.”

If the detectives had expected to
hear any indications of antagonism
between Martin Korzinski and his
wife—or between him and anybody
else, for that matter—they were sore-
ly disappointed.

It was true, of course, that the cou-
ple had lived in the Railroad Avenue
building for only half a year, and very
little was known about them in the
area. But the one person who- spoke
as though she had real knowledge of
the Korzinskis painted a glowing pic-
ture of married bliss. This informant
was Mrs. Agnes Wilson, whose
third-floor apartment faced directly
across an alley from the flat the
Korzinskis had occupied.

“Trouble between those two?”
Mrs. Wilson repeated Arnold’s ques-
tion. “I should say not! It was just the
other way! They were cooing and
smooching all the time. Sometimes I
was embarrassed. When they went to
bed at night, they often left the blinds
up and the lights on.”

_ Here Mrs. Wilson paused and
traces of a blush lighted her no-longer
youthful countenance. “I'll tell you,”
she said quickly. “I’m an old married
woman, but I couldn’t pull my own
shades down quick enough when
they acted like that. And they weren't
too careful when they were in the
other rooms in the house, either.”
Somewhat overwhelmed by this

(continued on next page)

a ee | we

_ weo4

picture of the Korzinskis’ wedded ar-
dor after what he knew to have been
seven years of marriage, Arnold re-
called what Helen had said of Alex-
ander Herman staying with them in
the Railroad Avenue place. “What
about that roomer they had?” he
asked. “Surely they didn’t carry on
the way you say when he was
around.”

“Roomer?” For a moment Mrs.
Wilson looked puzzled, then her face
relaxed into creases of recognition.
“Oh, yes,” she said. "I remember
him. Kind of a worried-looking man.
But he was only there for a few
weeks just before they all moved out,
although I saw him a few times be-
fore that—usually on weekends.”

That, the detectives agreed, seemed
to be that. They left Railroad Avenue,
but before returning to headquarters,
dropped in at the offices of Eaton,
Cole & Burnham, where Korzinski
had been employed. The dead man’s
superiors spoke of him in the highest
terms and were unwilling to make
even a wild guess as to what lay be-
hind ‘his murder. “He got along very
well with everyone here,” the detec-
tives were told, “and he was liked by
the men under him. Korzinski came a
long way with us, and would have
gone further. In the last couple of
years, we gave him increasing re-
sponsibility. He took charge of sever-
al of our contract jobs out of town,
and we were very pleased with his
performance.”

The principals of the firm, to
whom Arnold and Simon spoke,
went on to say that they knew little
or nothing of the man’s private life.
“There was never any reason for him
to discuss such things with us,” one
of them asserted. “However, there’s
one man—Jack Conby—who
worked closely with him and maybe
he can tell you more than we can.
Unfortunately, Conby’s out of town
now, but he’ll be back on Monday.
Perhaps you’d like to drop by then.”

Over the weekend, Captain Arnold
and Detective Simon made no pro-
gress in the case. During this period,
Korzinski was buried, and Coroner
Doten convened a jury which’ re-
turned an open verdict. Then, on
Monday morning, Arnold and Simon,
really grasping at straws, drove to the
Eaton, Cole & Burnham foundry, for
a talk with Jack Conby.

Conby was on hand, and in his ini-

eT TT TT A TT

tial remarks to the detectives ex-
pressed deep regret at Korzinski’s
death, but asserted he did not think he
could provide any useful information.

“Martin and I were friendly,” Con-
by explained, “but by no means
what you would call intimate. Why,
I was never even inside his house.
No, I don’t know of any enemies he
might have had, and except for that
one time, when he had the trouble
about moving, there didn’t seem to be
anything worrying him.”

Arnold jumped at the slight qualifi-
cation Conby had made concerning
Korzinski’s so placid life. “What do
you mean, ‘the trouble about mov-
ing,’?” he wanted to know.

“Well, I say that,” Conby replied,
“but I don’t actually know if that’s
the way to put it.” He paused for a
moment to sort his recollections, then
continued: “This is what happened.
About fifteen months ago—yes, it
was early April, last year—Martin
and I went up to Poughkeepsie to take
charge of a job there. Be

“Just about then, I remember, he
and his wife moved into a new apart-
ment. Martin used to miss his wife a
lot, and he went home whenever he
could, but he wasn’t able to get away
much, except on weekends. The job
took us about five months, and we
didn’t finish until the middle of Au-
gust.

“When we came back to Bridge-
port, I noticed right away that some-
thing seemed to be on Martin’s mind.
He was moody, and I got the idea he
was upset about something. Once I
asked him what the trouble was. At
first I thought he was going to spill
something serious, but then he said:
‘Oh, why should I bother you with
my headaches. I’ve got a personal
problem—but I think if I move, ev-
erything will straighten itself out.’”

Arnold did a little rapid mental

‘ arithmetic, and came up with a star-
stling calculation. According to what
Conby had said, the Korzinskis had
taken the Railroad Avenue apartment
at about the time Martin had begun
the Poughkeepsie job—and had
moved away shortly after it was
completed and he returned to Bridge-
port. This certainly was in conflict
with what Mrs. Wilson, the Railroad
Avenue neighbor, had said about the
Korzinski’s ardent, and presumably
frequent love-making.

The detectives sped to Railroad
Avenue for another talk with Mrs.

Wilson. “Tell me,” Arnold asked the
“woman, who seemed both surprised
at his directness and flustered at the
vehemence with which he put the
question, “about this Mr. Korzinski
we were speaking of the other day.
Was he around five feet, ten, thin...?”
As the captain ticked off the rest of
Korzinski’s description, Mrs. Wilson
registered increasing puzzlement.

“Why no,” she answered. “That’s
not him at all. But I'll tell you—the
man you speak of sounds very much
like that roomer, the fellow who was
only here for a few weekends and a
couple of weeks before they moved.
Mr. Korzinski was short and stocky
and—”

“And did he ever wear a tan cap?”
Simon put in.

“Yes, he did seem to favor one.”

The case, the detectives realized,
was falling into place. Helen
Korzinski, after all, clearly was, as
Arnold had felt intuitively, a more
complex creature than she seemed on
the surface. Obviously, she was pas-
sionate—and devious—for it was
patent that while her husband was in
Poughkeepsie, she had been conduct-
ing a torrid affair with the roomer,
Alexander Herman.

Undoubtedly, Korzinski, on his re-
turn, had gotten wind of what was
going on, which accounted for the
troubled manner Conby had noticed.
The tortured man’s solution had been
to break up the Railroad Avenue
household and move, with his wife,
to Clinton Street. It was more than
likely he had told Helen he knew of
her infidelity and had ordered her to
see no more of Herman.

But whether or not the adultery had
been openly mentioned, there seemed
little doubt that it had continued, for
Mrs. Irvin had testified to seeing the

* short, stocky, tan-capped man enter
the Korzinski building frequently.
The detectives did not need three
guesses as to his purpose on those oc-
casions.

Adultery was one thing—but mur-
der was another, and the officers
now felt that the relationship be-
tween Helen and her lover had moved
from the lesser to the greater trans-
gression, For a man answering Her-
man’s description had been seen
prowling outside Korzinski’s house
within minutes of his death.

Captain Arnold and Detective Si-

(continued on next page)
53

kitchen and the mother desperately urged
her daughter to flee. ‘“‘Go,”’ she insisted.
“I'll try to hold him off.Go before it’s too
late.”

Mary reluctantly climbed to her feet
and scrambled over the chest to the door.
She turned once to look at the quiet form
of her mother; then slipped out through
the yard and onto the deserted roadway.
She turned in the direction of their
nearest neighbor, Herman L. Logan.

As she ran down the street, she heard
an agonized cry and a long-drawn scream
from the house. Mary's throat choked
with sobs. The sunshine was gone and
flurries of sleet and snow beat against her
numb body. She slipped and fell; got up.
Her breath came in painful gasps but she
kept on. ‘

Finally she made out the Logan house
and stumbled through the gate and onto
the porch. Logan saw the small girl, not
yet six years old, and drew her inside. She
was terrified; unable to speak. The livid

. The family's few savings were hidden somewhere in the cozy.
~~ farmhouse and the black-masked intruder was after them—even
~ if it meant a brutal and stomach-turning murder. 2s)

bruise from the attacker's fist stood out
against her white face. Finally the panting

* child spoke.

““Mummy’s being hurted by a man ina

black mask,”’ she blurted. “*Mummy sent

me here for help.””

Logan called the police station, located
in the town hall several miles away. Then
he put on his coat and stuffed cartridges
into the pockets. He snatched his gun and
slammed the door as he left the house on
the run.

As Logan reached his front gate, a
neighbor, Walter H. Linsley, pulled up in
his horse and wagon. ‘* Walter, we've got
to get to the Chernock house as soon as
we can,”’ he shouted as he sprang into the
wagon, Logan explained the situation
briefly as Linsley whipped up his horses.
**Hang on,” the driver said.

Linsley drove as fast as he could over
the slippery road while Logan slipped two
shells into the breach of his 12-gauge
shotgun. They rounded a curve and the

A sinister, masked man hid outside this farmhouse waiting for the
opportunity to strike down an innocent and defenseless victim.

Chernock house, whose site is now om
cupied by the U.S. Electrical Motors =
plant, came into sight. Nothing moved =
against the white background of the bleak
and deserted landscape. Linsley stopped.
just beyond the house and said he would
wait. Logan stepped down. ee:
“Be careful,”’ Linsley ‘warned, “He
may still be inside.””) = ‘es

ile NPS hn

men hy tee F
Lt. James H. Bray of Bridgeport
cooperated with-the Milford po i
lice in bringing the puzzling case ~
to a satisfying conclusion. .

where the masked attacker hid.

of the house, noting the rear door was
smashed open. He stood outside, gun on
the ready. *‘Come on out. I've got you
covered.” ,

The door swung on one remaining, .
twisted hinge, revealing an apparently ~

empty interior. Logan advanced cauti-
ously, shouting as he advanced. There
was no response from within the house.

Now Logan could see the overturned
dresser and something more ominous —

blood. Wide crimson pools. He entered “

the house cautiously and stepped over the

blood, only to encounter more splattered /

vpon the clean linoleum in the kitchen
and upon the walls. Pots and pans lay in
disorder; furniture was overturned.
Logan studied carefully the several doors
kading from the kitchen. Then he saw a-
woman's purse lying on the floor. * +‘

=. He stooped to pick it up and noticed a

'gtib half hidden behind a smashed rock-
“the terrible struggle that had taken place
weep. j

Logan remembered that the door of the
tellar.bulkhead had been open when he

= *itcred. Perhaps, he thought,:the woman

- was hiding there. He retraced his steps
_and called for Mrs. Chernock. Then he.

/ ¥ensed danger and became quiet. He felt

fow the hunted one.

The afternoon sun was sinking fast and
ows lengthened in the kitchen. It was

ipetting hard to make out details in the far.

‘tnd of the room but Logan felt certain

& door leading to a bedroom had
$wung silently shut. Taking no chances,

he approached the door so as to be out of :

#nshot range.

,,. Whoever is in there," he ordered,

tome out, and come out with your
S up,”

There was no response so he cocked
Bun and, kicking the door open,

| Mshed inside. The shades were drawn

the room was’ dark. As he groped
ard, a dark form rose beside him and
Poked a gun muzzle into his ribs. Logan
fetreated back into the kitchen, closely
wowed by a masked man.
Put up your hands,” the stranger or-
d. Instead, Logan swung his gun into
Psition and fired. There was a warning
SY and the baby whimpered in‘his crib.
ortly afterwards, Linsley. still on
“atch outside, saw a man jump from a

window and run across a field.
ekkee

Superintendent James M. Maher had

‘ / The old Chernock ‘wellhouse,

Logan nodded and rounded the corner

chair. A tiny form lay within. Despite -

received the call placed by Logan. As he
hung up, Captain Mortimer B. Fowler en-
‘tered the room. :

“There's trouble on Old Gate Lane,”
he told the sergeant on duty. ‘Captain
Fowler and myself are headed for the
Chernock home.” The two men picked
up Officer Oliver Hibbard and entered the
patrol car. They sped aver the icy pave-
ment towards the eastern section of town
which borders Orange. The shore drive
was deserted in the treacherous sleet
storm.

They'slid over a wooden bridge, turned
beneath the New Haven Railroad bridge

~ and hastened down OldGate Lane. They

stopped by a driverless horse and wagon.
There was a shout and the loud report ofa
gun. A form ran towards them across the
field. They recognized Walter Linsley.

Linsley explained what had happened,
adding that Logan had followed the man
out of the window and chased him across
the field and into the woods. :

“Did you see what direction they went
in?” one of the officials asked.

“Towards the New Haven tracks,”’
came the response.

“Where is Mrs. Chernock?"

“IT don't know."

A form walked out of the woods and
headed towards the men. They watched
its progress intently and recognized
Logan. He had lost sight of the fugitive.
He told the superintendent he hadn’t seen
Mrs. Chernock; that his search of the
house had been interrupted by the
masked man.

“Can you describe this man?”

“Not really. He had on a long. dark
overcoat and wore his cap pulled down
over his mask.”’

**See if you can follow the tracks across
the field,’ Maher ordered Hibbard. As
Hibbard left, Logan volunteered to ac-
company him.

Maher and Fowler went inside the
house to search for the missing woman.
When they finally emerged, the usually

calm Maher was badly shaken. The two
men stood outside the door conversing in
hushed, shocked tones. They were soon
joined by Hibbard.

“The man got away. We lost the tracks
in the woods near the tracks. However,
we found this near some rocks. He must
have dropped it.’ Hibbard handed a slim,
folded object to the chief. Maher placed it
in his pocket.

“Do you know where Chernock is?”
Maher asked Logan, who had joined the
group by the shattered door. i

‘He's working in Bridgeport and isn’t
due home for another hour or so."*

“Do you mind if I phone him from your
house?’* Logan consented, giving
Chernock’s business address.

Leaving Fowler behind in case the two
playing children returned home, Maher
proceeded to the Logan home where he
called headquarters to broadcast an
alarm. Then he called Chernock to tell
him to come home immediately. Next, he

phoned the County Court House in New °»

Haven and spoke to Coroner Eli Mix and
County Detective Harry W. Tuttle.
Tuttle, Mix, and Frank Smith, a repor-
ter. immediately started the nine-mile
journey to Milford. Alarm bells were
sounding the emergency signal when they
reached the town line. Church bells
pealed loudly as carloads of men turned
down Old Gate Lane. Word of trouble
had spread throughout the small town.
Uniformed men kept the growing crowd
back from the Chernock home. Maher
and Fowler were waiting for the New
Haven group when they pulled up.
Maher organized citizen posses, plac-
ing each group under the direction of a
uniformed officer. Then the manhunt got
under way in an orderly fashion. Bridges
and roads were placed under guard. buses
and automobiles stopped. and the rail-
road station was placed under watch.
Captain Fowler himself guarded a nearby

(continued on page 38)
33

Wher ae

nL ee

Were oh

Old Gate Lane in Milford, Conn., as it appeared In 1921. It was down
: this road that the five-year-old child ran for help.

CASE OF THE

CONFETTI
KILLER:

(Editor’s note: Author-historian Curt Norris, a frequent contributor
to this magazine, is a specialist in recreating New England crime classics.
In the following story he tells how a handful of ‘“‘devil’s confetti’’ helped

strap a killer in an otherwise clueless case).

by CURT NORRIS

Mention Milford, Connecticut, and | think back to five
years of happy bachelorhood in the mid-Fifties. Three of us,
Bob from Ohio, Ralph from Wisconsin, and myself rented a
farmhouse a block from Long Island Sound. The phono-
graph spun nights and weekends for rounds of parties.
We moored a 14-foot sailboat nearby and, on occasion,
tumbled through the skies in a Waco UPF-7 biplane. Both
World War II and college were behind us and we were
young and in New England. The world was on oyster that
opened easily and possessed a luscious flavor.

Each of us worked at U.S. Electrical
Motors, located on Old Gate Lane. We
parked in the thick woods opposite the
plant, driving down a dirt road and choos-
ing a shady spot under a tree. Idyllic.
Now and then we heard talk about a vici-

ous murder that had happened some 35
years before, just a stone's throw away. It
seemed impossible that such could have
occurred on Old Gate Lane, on the site of
the very plant where we worked.

It was years before I investigated this

aes aloe

The late Superintendent of Police —
James M. Maher, who dir %
the Chernock case manhunt,’

'
old case and found a curious thread

our life of the Fifties to the tragic ‘A

This was in the whirling world of phot
raph records. A

I was on Old Gate Lane recently; 4
congested and unfamiliar. But back

- 480s, comparing the road to pictures

taken in 1921, it would have been easy to
jeok down the woodsy, undeveloped nar-
yow roadway and imagine slipping back
rough the years, back... back...
itis Tuesday, February |, 1921. Death

semed an utter stranger as young, attrac-
we Mrs. Annie Chernock stepped from
the kitchen of her farm intoa yard flooded _.
with pale afternoon sunshine. Inside the
warm kitchen, a little girl watched her:
mother carefully walk towards the barn; a
goming storm had left a treacherous
gating of ice. As she started through the
tam door, the mother looked back.
‘*I'mall right now, Mary," she assured

; teechild.““Go back and mind the baby.””

Mary's eyes shifted to a crib where a
four-week-old infant lay asleep. A sudden
ovement behind a group of leafless
Bees drew the girl's attention outside
ee again. The girl was not alarmed; she
selized that two younger children of the

dtthen the mother came back into
sight: :
The trees in the clump shook violently
ad Mary watched in horror as she made
eta man’s head peering stealthily
trough the ice-covered branches. A long
Wack mask covered the face watching her
‘Sother. She screamed a warning, then
malized Per mother could not hear. She
‘A bo the door just as her mother turned
Wootice the lurking figure.
Mrs. Chernock quickened her steps as
form rose and dashed towards her.:
Re slipped. fell, scrambled to her knees
mithe intruder’ s fingers caught on her fur
sollar, As she wrenched free, her attacker
and went down on his knees.
pel watching intently, threw open the

i fleeing woman ducked inside. She

be:

» “Stop hurting my mother,”’

med the door shut and bolted it as the

man outside flung himself against it. As
the blows outside doubled in fury, Mrs.
Chernock dragged a heavy bureau against
the door as a barricade. A panel splin-

* tered and a clawlike hand reached inside

for the bolt.

The woman turned to the terrified child
beside her. *‘Where are the other chil-
dren?"’.she asked.

“‘Outside,’’ the daughter replied.
“They went outside to play when you
Went to the barn.””

“Oh, my God,”’ the mother moaned. ~

A second panel splintered under the
fierce blcws. The door toppled as the
upper hinge gave way. The chest fell over
and the attacker leaped inside and seized
the woman. .

**Ycu know what I want,” he yelled.
*“Where's the money?"’

She faltered. *‘There isn’t any.’’ She

_ cried out in pain as the man twisted her

wrists.

May stepped forward, infuriated.
she de-
manded

The man struck the little girl across the
mouth with his fist. She tumbled into a
corner where she lay whimpering. The
attacker ignored the child as he pulled the
mother forward.

“Are you going to talk?’’ he de-
manded. Mrs. Chernock didn’t reply so
he pushed her head slowly backwards.
Her eyes closed and she became limp.

_ Asimple fishing expedition to this creek across from the Chernock
farmhouse disclosed information that ied to a horrible murder.

The man cursed as he leaned forward and
relaxed his fingers. Suddenly the woman
brought her head up sharply against his
chin. She jammed a heel down upon his
foot as his head jerked back. The attacker
yelled in pain.

The woman slipped from his grasp,
made for the door and was on the
threshold when cruel hands hauled her
back.

“Have [ got to kill you before you'll
tell?’” he panted. His hands tightened
around her throat.

**Tobacco can... kitchen closet,’’ she
gasped. She sank to the floor and Mary
crept to her side. ;

*‘Mummy,” the child sobbed.

The woman became alert as the sound
of crashing tinware from the pantry sig-
nalled the masked man’s frustration.

“*Mary,”’ the mother ordered in a low
voice. ‘‘Go to Logan’s and tell him to get
the police.’’ A roar of rage came from the

(continued on next page)

The vicious slayer of Annie
Chernock met a just fate after a
handful of confetti led to his door.

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ish up
stayed

maybe
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nd told.
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ou up,”
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in Sher-
and. re-
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« of tying
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slain girl.
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the killer.
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ssible em-
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it fictitious.

» 15)

Maher had
cers in cars
s the result
» transients
e overcoats,
picture the
= murderer.
mined, re-
vever. But
led overcoat
ner clothing
ering blood.
od his guilt,
Stted both.
their stories

no labels or
vhere was an
pocket, but
clue.
irment care-
‘ing by which
rough search
odmont failed
was believed
e weapon off

LINE DETECTIVE |

Teletype messages were dispatched to
the Bridgeport and New Haven police,

. asking that a watch be kept for all

coatless persons acting suspiciously. It
was believed practically certain that the
murderer hopped a bus, « train or ob-
tained a hitch to either of these large
centers.

Farmer Was Held Up

When the grief-stricken husband
finally reached the Milford police sta-
tion he was as much in the dark con-
cerning the crime as were the officers
themselves.

“Think hard, Chernock,” Maher told
the broken man. “Who would know
you had money in the house? And how
much was it, that someone would com-
mit murder to get it?”

‘The graphophone worker said he had
saved $110 from his pay toward seed
for his farm, which he intended to
operate when his Bridgeport job ended
because of seasonal layoffs.

“Almost all my friends knew I was
saving money for the farm,” he told the
assembled officers, “but I can’t think of
one who would kill my wife to get it.”

Then the dazed man suddenly remem-
bered an important fact. “Say, that
robbery must have had something to
do with what happened to me last
Friday night!”

The eager officers waited for him to
‘proceed.

“I had just collected my pay,” Cher-
nock told’ them, “and was walking
toward the bus station, when a masked
man stepped up in front of me and
pointed a pistol. He said, ‘Give me that
money of yours!’

“J didn’t know whether to hand it
over or make a break for it. Suddenly
I saw we were standing opposite an
alley. I gave the robber a shove and
ran up the alley. He didn’t chase me
or fire a shot. When I got home I told
my wife about it. She said we’d better
hide the money around the house, so
I wouldn’t have to carry it any more.”

The officers immediately sensed a con-
nection between the attempted robbery
at Bridgeport on Friday night and the
murderous assault on Annie Chernock
the following Tuesday.

“It’s a cinch that the robber came
up here to get that money,” Tuttle told
him. “And it must have been someone
who knew about your affairs. Who,
among your so-called friends, would be
most likely to know that you no longer
carried the money?” .

Chernock pondered this question a
few moments, then answered, “Ralph
Santoro. He used to come up to the
house a couple of nights a week. We
often talked about the farm and I half
promised him a job next summer.”

“And did you ever te!! him about the
seed money you had put away?”

“Yes, I once told him | had over $100.”

All the Milford officers knew Santoro.
Rarely employed he hung oul around
the poolrooms and generally was re-
garded as worthless. Chief Maher
snapped an order which sent Captain
Fowler and several officers to Santoro’s

‘house, where they found the man at

home:

JANUARY, 1943

Coat Fits Suspect

Fowler’s keen eyes saw that the sus-
pect wore a shabby blue suit and that
he was about the size and description
of the fleeing killer at whom he had
shot.

“What did you do with that money
you stole, Santoro?” he demanded of
the man, who seemed baffled at the
presence of so many officers.

Santoro, partly befuddled by excessive
drink and the aggressiveness of his in-
terrogator, could give no satisfactory
answer. He merely kept mumbling
“What money? What money?”

They hustled him down to police head-
quarters, where Chernock had to be
restrained from attacking him.

“You'd do this to me after all my
kindness to you!” he screamed at the
prisoner. “I don’t see how you could,
Ralph.”

Santoro was hustled into the brown
coat, which proved to be an excellen!

- fit. His blue suit was examined for

blood, but none was found. The police

-took the man’s shoes, which appeared

to be muddy and stained, planning to
have them inspected for stains. They
also obtained mud samples from Wood-
mont for comparison with the earth
clinging to the suspect’s boots. Then,
dressing him in the brown coat, Maher.
Fowler and Tuttle hustled him back to
the murder kitchen.

There, from the bedroom, they let
little Joseph and Anna Chernock view
him. “He looks just like the man,”
both children said.

Here the grieving husband had an
opportunity to look over the ransacked
premises.. He immediately told Maher
that an unloaded pistol, which lay in
his top bureau drawer, was missing.

The befuddled suspect not only de-
nied having committed the crime, but
was equally vehement that he hadn’t
stolen Chernock’s revolver. A search
of his home failed to disclose the weapon
or the money.

Santoro insisted he had spent the
afternoon at a local poolroom, one of
his favorite haunts, and while this alibi
was being investigated the man was
locked up on a charge of suspicion of
murder. e

Chernock recognized neither of the
arrested transients, who seemed fo fade
from the murder picture with the arrest
of Santoro. * Nevertheless, they were not
released.

As night wore on, the case against
Ralph Santoro appeared to weaken. In
the first place, his alibi seemed un-
assailable. Several poolroom habitues
told the investigators that the man had

. spent almost the entire day in the place,

occasionally drinking from a bottle of
wine he had brought with him.

The witnesses were most certain that
at 2:30 p. M., the approximate time of
the crime, Ralph Santoro was in a com-
pletely drunken state on a bench in the
poolroom, hence incapable of committing
a dastardly murder more than two miles
away.

Although they had practically given up
on Santoro, the police wasted no time
in questioning a half dozen other friends
of Joseph Chernock in and around Mil-

ford. These were all persons who had
visited the Old Field Lane farm on vari-
ous occasions, and who, consequently,
would know something about money
hidden in the house

But none of these developed and the
investigators, with three prisoners on
their hands—all of whom the overcoat
fitted—seemed to be getting nowhere.

They considered several angles be-
sides robbery, but were compelled to
drop them when it was revealed that
Joseph Chernock was not the type of
man who would incur enemies and his
wife’s reputation was of the best.

"Confetti In Coat,

On the morning after the crime the
weary officers, joined by Coroner Mix,
assembled after a few hours of quickly-
snatched sleep.

“We've got one clue in this case,” Mix
told them. “That’s the overcoat. I have
a feeling it should produce something
to give us a lead.”

Tuttle shrugged his shoulders in a
gesture of exasperation.

“Tye been over that coat 50 times,”
he told the coroner, “and I haven't
found a thing but the pair of gloves.
There’s no label; nothing that we can
go on. Plenty of people wear brown
coats like this one.” :

The coroner nodded. “Well, let’s go
over it for the fifty-first time. If it
doesn’t yield anything, I’m going to send
it down to the state police laboratory
for a microscopic examination.”

Tuttle took the coat and began slit-
ting the seams with a penknife. He took
the lining carefully apart, ripped out
the pockets and viewed each part mi-
nutely.

Finally he gave an exclamation of
surprise. .

“Look what’s here!” he called out,
as he began picking some minute par-
ticles of white paper from the lining
of one pocket. “Confetti!”

He held about 20 round punchings in
the palm of his hand. The other officers
crowded around to view them.

“It’s confetti, all right!” Mix con-
ceded. “But where does it get us?”

The police chief spoke up. “There
was a carnival in town last week. Maybe
one of the show people committed this
crime. They might have heard about
Chernock having money in the house.”

Tuttle had a theory. “Maybe Cher-
nock ‘went to the carnival with the man
in the brown overcoat.”

All conceded that this was an angle
worth looking into. They sent for the
mourning husband, who had taken his .
motherless brood to the home of a rela-
tive.

“Yes, I went to the carnival with my
wife and oldest boy,” he said, “but the
only one I talked to there was Ralph
Santoro.”

This - brought the Milford poolroom
loafer into the murder picture again.

“He’s still our best bet,” Tuttle told
the others, “in spite of his alibi. He
could have feigned drunkenness in the
poolroom, slipped out long enough to
commit the crime and then sneaked back.
He is the one man who knew Chernock
had that money. Besides, he knows the

territory around Woodmont and would
have no trouble in getting back to town
quickly.”

The others agreed. But how to pin
the crime on their leading suspect was
something they couldn't immediately
fathom.

Meanwhile Joseph Chernock was in-
specting the score of white paper
punchings taken from the coat pocket
lining. He gave a startled exclamation
of surprise, then called Tuttle over.

“This isn’t confetti,” he told the county
detective. “This comes from the graph-
ophone company plant. It’s punchings
from the labels they put on phonograph
records. You see, these round pieces of
paper are slightly larger than confetti.”

Tuttle and the others saw this, once
their attention was called to it.

“Then the killer must be someone you
work with down at the plant,” Maher
told him. “Those punchings got into
his overcoat pocket in some way. Can
you give us any idea who it might be?”

Had Sunday Guest

Chernock became thoughtful, then
shook his head dubiously. “No, it can’t
be—it can’t be!” he muttered vehe-
mently.

“What can’t be?” Coroner Mix in-
quired.

Chernock’s face wore a look of cha-
grin and disbelief. Finally he said, “The
only fellow I-can think of is a new-
comer down at the plant who was a
guest at my home last Sunday. Let me
tell you about it.”

As the investigators gathered around,
the husband of the murder victim re-
lated his story.

“I had to work on the Saturday night
shift,” he said, “and was leaving the
plant Sunday morning with a man we
all call John Kasser, although that isn’t
his right name.

“Kasser has worked in the label de-
partment only a short time, and I knew
he lived in a furnished room in Bridge-~
port. So I felt sorry for him last Sun-
day and invited him out shere to Milford
to spend the day.

“We took the bus from Bridgeport
and arrived at my house about 11 o’clock.
I introduced Kasser to my wife and she
said she was glad I had brought some-
one home, because she had a nice dinner
cooked. Kasser played with the kids
until dinner time and then ate a big
meal. He seemed to be enjoying him-
self.

“In the afternoon I got out some rods
and took him fishing. We caught sev-
eral trout. That night, when he took
the bus back to Bridgeport, he said he
had had a swell time.”

Tuttle snapped a question. “At any
time during the day did. you discuss
having any money in the house?”

Chernock’s answer came quickly. “He
knew I carried money around in a wallet,
because I took it out on several occa-
sions at the plant to pay my dues and
such things. He told me it was dan-
gerous to carry so much money around.
Sunday I told him about the attempted
holdup last Friday, saying I had decided
to take his advice and keep the money
in the house.”

The county detective whistled. “Then
it’s dollars to doughnuts Kasser was the
man who came back here Tuesday to
find that money. He probably murdered
your wife when she recognized him.
It’s more than likely he was the’ man
who held you up in Bridgeport.”

Chernock nodded sadly. “I wouldn’t
be a bit surprised. I’m pretty sure he
wore a brown overcoat, as I seem to re-
member now.”

Chief Maher and Tuttle wasted no
time in getting to Bridgeport, where they
asked the assistance of Lieutenant James
M. Bray, now head of the detective bu-
reau there, for help in finding Kasser.

Bray contacted officials of the Colum-
bia Graphophone Company and, after an
hour of searching the records, learned
that the suspect’s real name was John
Kacaewankas and that he boarded at
108 Organ Street.

Bray assigned Sergeant John Wash-
burn to their aid, and the Milford chief
and the county detective went to the
Organ Street address with the Bridge-
port detective.

Mrs. Margaret Carr, who owned the
rooming house, told them that her
boarder, Kacaewankas, was upstairs in
hed. The three officers, walking into his

»om, found the suspect dressing.

Sefore they could advise him why
they were there, the phonograph com-
pany worker pointed to the carpet. —

“You'll find the money under there,”
he said calmly.

Tuttle threw back the rug and found
100 in small bills carefully flattened out
underneath.

’ “Then you killed that woman, Kasser?”
Maher asked.

The man nodded. “Yes, she saw who
1 was.”

At the Bridgeport headquarters he
made a complete confession of guilt, ad-
mitting that he had tried to hold up
Chernock ‘in Bridgeport on the preced-
ing Friday. The police learned he was
deeply in debt and that robbery was his
sole motive in visiting the Milford farm.

Kacaewankas said he threw Chernock’s
unloaded pistol in a.river on his way
back to Bridgeport, but it never was
found. He also claimed to have discarded
the brown overcoat because of incrimi-
nating bloodstains, implanted when he
battered the helpless woman to death.
He did not know then that the coat
contained evidence to trap him.

Maher learned that Kacaewankas was
an ex-convict, having served a two-year
term in the penitentiary for armed rob-
bery in Bristol, Conn. The prisoner ad-
mitted having cultivated Chernock’s
acquaintance and enjoying the warm
hospitality of his home for the sole pur-

pose of learning where the money was’

concealed.

The murder of Mrs. Chernock occurred
on February 1, 1921. On the twenty-
eighth of that month, John Kacaewankas,
32, was convicted of murder in the first
degree. Less than six months later he
was dead, hanged by the neck in Weth-
ersfield prison in full payment for his
brutal crime.

Eprror’s Note: To spare possible em-
barrassment to an innocent person, the
name Ralph Santoro, used in this story,
is not real but fictitious.

TRAP

(Continued from page 20)

call may be traced. He’ll phone again.”

“But what'll I tell him?”

“We'll have to play him along. . -
stall him. We’ve got to maneuver him
into a position where he’ll make a mis-
cue. The main thing now is to find

who he wants rubbed out.

“When he phones, Dick, tell him you
have a pal—a gun-crazy fool just out
of stir. This Jack Long, the way I
see it, will want to continue negotia-
tions by phone. Give him the con-
fidential number at the station here.

“Pl assign Danny Driscoll and John
Stephens to work the case, with Danny
acting as the ex-con killer. Nobody’ll
answer the confidential phone except
Danny. Further, tell this Jack Long
that Danny wants an installment—cash
in advance. Maybe that'll bring him
into the open, or at least tip us off
to something.” : :

Long, just as Patton prophesied,

called again two nights later. This

time Light was ready for him.

“It's a deal,” Dick said. “I got a pal
named Danny just out of Folsom—a
red-hot with a rod. But. he wants
dinero—dough. Where can he see you?”

An amused laugh answered him. “Be
smart, mister. Any business Danny and
I do, we do by phone. Where can I
reach him?”

Light gave him the confidential police
number.

“Okay,” Long said. “Tl call him.
In the meantime, I’m sending you a
$200 advance. You hold this dough till
Danny does the job. When it’s over
Yll send $300 more. . .- and a bonus
for you.”

“Fine,” Light said. “Now who’s_ the
citizen Danny’s to rub out? Where does
he live, and what’s he look like? I...”

Again Jack Long hung up.

Patton was elated when he heard of
this newest development.

“We've got him hooked, Dick. He'll
call again. Come to think of it, Long’s
next step, after he sends the money,
will be to phone Danny here.”

On the evening of February 12—Lin-

coln’s birthday—Dick Light received a

special delivery: letter marked “per-'
sonal.” The envelope contained four
crisp, new $50 bills, wrapped in brown
paper.

Patton at once called in fingerprint
experts, but their findings were nil.
Jack Long was indeed a clever schemer.

Names The Victim

“He’s even printed your name and
address,” Patton pointed out to Light.
“It proves he’s been mulling over this
thing for a long time. We'll just have
to wait till he phones again.”

The following morning a tiny red
light glowed on the switchboard of the
Hollywood police station—a light’ which
sent Detective Lieutenants Danny Dris-
coll and John R. Stephens bounding out
of their chairs. Driscoll plugged in and
raised the receiver to his ear. At another

HEADLINE DETECTIVE

busines:
sent Lig
“Yeah,
lettuce.”
Stephen:
continu:
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Sam Krz
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he goes
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more than
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When do .
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receives th:
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Jack Lon
Driscoll
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he’s the pr
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Krantz
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departmen:
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something |

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and vim; h:
full glass be
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will see you
_ Krantz, j
he drink 2

couple of si;

JANUARY, 1°

ad hat did they say regarding that
; ’ Again in Italian:
ee second youth laughed.
om it was paint.’
cg es the two Italians chatted away in
ys jr native tongue, the Irishman lay hud-
F: ¥ on his cell cot, apparently in a drun-
9 umber. It wasn’t until five in the
_aming that an attendant came and woke
_ saying that his friend had arrived
bail. The two Italians watched the
“4 leave. [here was a moment’s silence
fore Pisanielli spoke.
wpon't forget what I told you. If you
2s | | say the most they can -give us is
, years. é,
4 attendant approached and took the
5 men upstairs. They entered the court-
4m where Loomis, O’Dell, Desker and
ion Sat Waiting. There was another
i there, Lt. Urbano.
eWhat did you mean downstairs by
g the police had nothing on you?”

‘Tl told

qUrbano asked the startled prisoners. .

pyou’re glad you threw your black-
sand guns away,’’ the lieutenant
ssed. The two prisoners turned
mihly pale.
ait’ s the drunken Irishman who was in
pell between us,”’ Pisanielli gasped.
WThat’s right,’’. Urbanho:returned
asantly. *‘What do you have to say?”’
Nothing,”’ the prisoner said. :
@Nothing,’’ Urbano repeated in per-
P plian- + Especially after all you two

had to say? I enjoyed your cor

about those shirts. Was that just tpaiat.;

he paused for effect, ‘‘or was that the
blood of Morris Goldstein?”

**I don’t know what you're talking
about.”*

*‘Oh yes, you do,”’ Urbano countered.
‘‘Don’t you remember when Lanzillo
asked what would happen if the man
should die? And you replied you didn't
know?” >

‘I remember saying nothing of the
kind.”’

““Well, I do,’’ the detective returned.
**l also remember you saying ‘Frank was
lucky he got away.” Morris Goldstein is.
dead. You murdered him and that means .
the rope.”’ ..

““You know everything,”’ Pisanielli eX-
claimed. ‘

“Every thing,”* * the Italian detective ag-

~ reed.

During the’ interrogation Urbano ob- .

-served that Lanzillo never answered any
- questions without first looking over to his

companion for assurance. He called this
to Chief O’Dell’s attention who then or-

_dered the two prisoners separated while

Lanzillo was grilled alone in another
room.
He confessed that with Pisanielli and
Frank he had gone to West Haven.
*“They told me they were going to show

« ite how one committed a-successful hold-:

” he Said. . ‘Finally aman came along

and Pisanielli told h to put his hands.
When the man cried out, Pisanielli fired
one shot and Frank fired two. I had a gun
but I didn’t shoot,” he claimed. Lanzillo
then told how the three men ran down
Savin Avenue and caught the freight for
Derby.

When he learned his companion had
talked, Pisanielli offered further details.
He said Goldstein was selected for the
victim because the tailor had a-gold watch
Lanzillo’s brother, Louis, admired. He
offred Pisanielli a price if he could get it.

*“Where does Louis live?’’ Deskin
asked.

**At 23 Collis Street. He works at a:
rubber shop nearby.”’ The prisoner told
how Louis, on Saturday night, Nov. 25,

had taken the men down Chapel Street.

where he pointed out the tailor shop. ©

They did not dare to attack the man there,

» so they followed him home. Because he ~
~ had his wife and daughter with him, they’

let the victim go. They noted where he :
lived and decided to lay in wait on Moh-— s

day night. Pisanielli said he fired one shot *
into the air, Frank shot the man twice;
and Lanzillo had struck the victim over
and over again with the broken blackjack.
‘*Who is this third man, ‘Frank’?’’ oné

~of the detectives.asked. ~ »

When Pisanielli said he, didn’ t cae

Urbano had the prisoner removed and. Le 4 we E

Lanzillo brought in.
Sg apes on next page)

‘This stolen dratt card was found in the possession of Frank Dusso when he was identified as the

Mitt erry

long-sought se from Connecticut. |

_ REGISTRATION CERTIFICATE.

hom it may concern, Greetings:

“THESE PRESENTS ATTEST, W'@ivey4
That in accordance with the ~
cleynation ct the President of the United 255 a

- -
*

No. RE OE Ty te

(This number must correspond pets
that on the Registration Card. meee:

ila

e be _ ‘ (vity,
FS. loact Sai -

RELL LAY IAIN MRI RNG OTE

Above, on the trestle itself, the officers
found a worn blackjack tucked beneath
the ‘‘sleepers.’” Then they returned to the .
- Derby police station where they ex-
amined their finds.
One of the guns was a .44 Colt Proaer
Model. Deskin noted it was loaded except
for one empty shell. The other gun was a
smaller .38-caliber, nickel-plated, pearl-
t: handled weapon containing two ape!
shells. — =
Loomis noted a ‘discoloration on the
= worn blackjack. **That could be blood,”
| _he observed.
Pisanielli and Lanzillo were questioned
about the weapons found in East Derby.
Each denied ownership. -
ms ‘*What about this. second Blackjack?” “a
na 4a O'Dell asked. , i S78
Lanzillo oe he carried it for protec:
tion. mt
Deskin again mad about. ‘the guns.
Lanzillo ‘became confused under the

you know more than. pou ‘Tre saying,”
ooh Dell insisted.

“room during this exchange and the two
suspects exchanged silent. glances.’ Fi-

Runs before,’ he admitted. ‘‘They be- ~

: off the rain
52

skeptical stares of the officers. °‘I think* ‘

Pisanielli had. been brought in to the be “a
J mean he has a twisted neck, and so gid :

-one of Goldstein’s killers.’ ~~
ally Lanzillo spoke. ‘‘We have seenthe. ©.
‘Well, there’s still one way, to be

: longed to that g ies named ‘ Eran who ran

An old photo of New Haven Green, the rendezvous for the infamous crime school gang of yesteryear.

nes

* He explained that Frank had not been
aboard when the train left New Haven.
Outside the city the train stopped for a
signal. The two men heard some shots

_ and then the train started up slowly.

When they got to an underpass beyond
the West Haven station they noticed

some men standing beside the track. The

man named ‘Frank’ swung on board with
a gun in each hand. He swore to shoot
them if they told anyone they-saw him.

‘‘What did he look like,’ one of the
officials asked.

‘*We just saw him in the dark. All we
noted were his big, staring eyes.”

Asked why the three had gotten off at
Derby, the youth answered that they.

“thought something had gone wrong when

~the train stopped.
The two men were removed while the

»- policemen conferred. Loomis asked °

Chief O’Dell if he had noticed anything
-unusual about Pisanielli.

- Army but he didn’t answer.’
*‘No,’’. the West Haven chief plied

“‘Can witnesses identify him?””

Sure;’.) as
How! s that,” me asked Deskin

- men agreed. The chief rose to his feet

- juice on-my breath.”’

prisoner retorted. Where’ s them
emy. bail?’” 7-2”

“I thought he looked like he had been —
.in uniform. I asked if he had been i in the

é
*

‘O'Dell motioned the other two
closer and whispered a plan. Th

left the room to talk with Lt. Urban
When he returned, he said everythi
was Set.

The two suspects were led back
quarters shortly after three that m
They saw they had been joined by aanew
inmate with dirty and torn clothing
prisoner was pacing the middl
separating the two Italians.°

‘*Sure and isn’t it just the hice
Irish,’’ he was complaining. ‘‘All be:
a crazy cop is discovering a bit of the

‘‘Shut- up,’’ the- pOHCe. of:
threatened, striking the steel bar
middle cell with his night stick

“*To hell with you,’’ the bleary-€

The officer. went out,” slammi
heavy outside door. ' ee
. The man called [ anzillo ‘spoke to
eamnken inmate next to him.
peerstand. Italian?” he wanted te

Vi
spot?’
The
them i
AS |
theirn
dled o
ken sl
mori
him, s
with b
man le
before
‘Do
do as |
five yé«
Ani

(

Loomis sought out the victim’s widow —
@: Haven. The shaken woman told —
(e upper Blohm Street.

hief that her husband had been very

nervous for some time but refused to tell |

her the reason. She and her young daugh-
ter had spent the previous Saturday even-
ing at her husband’s tailor shop on Chapel
Street. The family group caught the 9:30
p.m. car from the Green to West Haven.
Three youths on the car eyed the hus-

band, wife, and daughter intently all the .

way, and trailed them to their 168 Peck
Avenue apartment.

‘*‘Can you describe them?’’ the official

asked.
“Yes,” the widow replied: “They
looked like immigrants; they were in their

_ early twenties, and one had a stiff neck.”

The widow added she had felt en-

dangered, but when the youths continued ©
- onas theGoldsteins turned into their yard -
identify these two men, but not the third.

‘she felt perhaps.she had been frightened

is over nothing.

- Following his talk with the widow the
- chief went to the Savin Rock trolley car

terminal, thinking the murderers might
have come to town by trolley. By luck, he

- -met the conductor of the car that had
- brought Goldstein to his death. The man |
didn’t recall any passengers ‘like the

‘wanted men but suggested the chief see
pliam Moulter, the conductor on the

he waited, Loomis was hailed by James

H. Johnston, a barber who had a shops on

“T heard you were looking for some
men in connection with the shooting to-
night,’’ the barber stated. ‘‘There were
three men standing under the street light
near my shop when | closed around 9:30.

When | came out, they turned and walked

toward the Blohm Street car stop.”’
‘‘Why do you think they had anything
to do with the murder?”’

‘Because soon after I reached my |

home I heard three shots from that direc-
tion. When I heard about the shooting, I
thought I’d better.see you.””

The only man the barber could de-
scribe was one with protruding eyes,
thick hair, and wearing a cap and light-
colored coat. Another man, he stated,
had a twisted neck. He thought he could

_ The barber left as the New Haven car

came inand the chief explained hiserrand - r
.to'Conductor Moulter. Moulter‘recog- «1

nized the descriptions immediately.

-“‘Three men got on the New Haven car

which left the Green at.9: 1553 he recalled.

‘‘One of them showed me a note on which . oa

was written ‘Blohm Street.” He asked me

bell and ay got fe)

> Ballard told’ the ‘officers of

to tell him when we got to that street, ‘but <>
‘when we neared the me he gave e the | ‘si

throug
seen S¢
after tl
Man
cars. §
ahead
face.
*“Wh
mandec
**Jus

the othe
officer f
sensed ¢
_ foot trip

coat “i ther had a twisted ne
Chief: Loomis investigated ;
Morri:
tailor,
ofc

eolike closed the cordon ith as ’
radius of New Haven. Twelve mi
the west, in Derby, Officer Frank J
ion answered his phone at 11:25 p
liam Ballard, the operator of the railr
tower in East Derby, was on the
asked that belb be rushed to thé
once. ge :
Picking up Patolmnar James

the two officers hurried to East
Although the railroad station was
the nearby tower was lit. Beyol
_long, high triple track trestle va
into the darkness. The whistle of an

graphic. warning he had received.
ing the West Haven: murdet
“there was a good chance th

MU Wain ed

officers running toward

hed rer ys ii

rd the two

E. what's going on?”* he asked.
we're looking for three men wanted
§ qurder in West Haven,’’ Manion re-
j,“‘Do you have any ‘deadheads’ that
ee,; have gotten on there?” :
Sea | don't know,’’ the engineer said.
iy, were firing up when we went
tygh that town. I think | may have
£, some men standing by an underpass
the station, but we were busy.”’
gnion Started down the long line of
» Suddenly a shadowy form loomed
,@ and he caught sight of @ swarthy
2
Who are you?’ the

&
e
«ft

yyst a guy bumming a ride, boss.”’
ine officer drew his gun and fumbled
fashlight with his
he man quickly tossed something
bd him which landed

ver mud below. >
ytup your hands,”’ Manion ordered.
¢ officer shone his light behind the
and noted two other forms. “You,
# he shouted, **Both of you, get them

Policeman. de-

Sof the men leaped from the trestle. -

pn fired at the form, which landed
iprashed through the underbrush. As
ther man in back edged closer, the
ver felt the man beside him stiffen. He
sed danger and as he stepped back, his

iripped on a “‘sleeper’’ and he lost his

Mis Goldstein, a prominent
ilor, became the innocent victim
of crime school “graduates.”

~ See

_* ’ There was ho reply.

other hand. As he |

with a thud on.

ine two men lunged forward
and he cried for help.

Officers Reardon and Wrinn ran into
view while other men tumbled from the
caboose. The two Suspects were soon
handcuffed.

There were no other riders and Manion
turned to study his two prisoners. The
first w
in his early twenties. He blinked in the
light of the torch as the officer asked him
where he came from.

“Pier 25, New York
sullen reply. ae

‘‘That’s interesting,’’ the train en-
gineer commented. “Especially since
this train didn’t come from New York
City. We made up at Cedar Hill; coming
by way of Devon and New Haven,”’ »

Pyahary
VaAIGICG

City,”’ came the

dN
‘*What’s your name?’’
“Carl Lanzillo.”’ id PS
- “*And yours?”’ the officer looked at the
_ Second youth who stared ahead sullenly;
without response. © fae Sete
‘‘Who was the man who jumped?”
Again the first youth answered. ‘‘]
don’t know. He was on the train when we
got aboard. Said to call: him ‘Frank.’
Look, how about letting us go. Is ‘it
» against the law to hop.a ride?”?

NS, OE

plied. Manion asked Reardon. to watch

the two suspects. Then he hurried down »
the track with his. bobbing flashlight.

Some distance. beyond where he had
halted the trio, the unarmed officer
_Climbed down a- |
from the trestle to the clamflats below.
He studied the heavy indentations where
the third fugitive had landed for amoment
before he continued on.

Fifteen feet further his Patience was
rewarded. He stooped and Picked up a
black object which he slipped into his
pocket. Then he hurried back to the
tower where he notified the New Haven
authorities. :

Back at Derby, Manion next tele-
Phoned Chief Daniel T. O’Dell of the
local force. He arrived after midnight and
asked Manion to bring each man sepa-
rately into his office?

Lanzillo repeated the same-story he
had told at the tower. His alibi was not
shaken by cross-examination. After Lan-
zillo returned to his cell the second pris-

‘ oner was brought in. He fidged nervously
while the chief examined a letter Manion
had found on him see ese a

‘What is yourname?”’ the chief asked.

“Carmine Pisanielli,”” he replied, giv-

ing the same name as that written on the’

envelope. 35). eae Bie Gea soc
___ O'Dell was struck by the military bear- _
ing of the man before him. ‘*You look as”

/ though you'd been in the Army,”’ he re-
* inet etal a ae gs ‘ fe ny On setae .

marked. « Sg Ear eae rie
When asked what
_ he was doing on the train, Pisanielli said.
«he had hopped a freight in the Cedar Hill
. yards thinking he would toN : A!

ooden ladder leading~ —

\
ts

as a curly-haired, dark-eyed youth ©

Manion asked:

‘In this town it is,’’ the policeman re-_

- Louis Lanzillo, the finger man for :
the crime school. He selected the .

practice murder victim. ©

nag

job. When the train pulled off
e’d stay on, that he could find
€ place as easily as in another.
questioning failed to break hi
story. O’Dell ordered the'man removed
' The Derby chief tel

- to look fora
he figured h
work in on
Repeated

ephoned Chief ~
Loomis at West Haven and Chief Deskin-
in-New Haven who s
automobile. O'Dell g
chiefs details and sho
dence Manion uncov
road trestle. It was a
blackjack. co oe et

“So far we’ve found nothing to tie ~ ee |i
these men into the crime,’’ O'Dell admit-— =e
ted. ‘‘Both men Say they boarded the Spare ||
train near New Haven. The engineer says* |

he saw men Standing in the underpass at
West Haven, but can’t identify the

doesn’t know if they were the same
ment ee Se pee eae
Although Loomis and Deskin saw
Prisoners they failed to gather any
information. Then, with Manion and Lt

_ Anthony Urbano of the local force, the

returned to the railroad trestle. Beneath i

‘on the frozen ground, piled in the shape of

a cross* they found two re

new, black leather ;
ed oS

® ;
i x .
4 t.
tay f -
aes
1 a.
H ‘ Ss
fe, i
Us ,
, ‘¢ 5
ot fi’ ;
‘ i .
we ef :
4 ¢ 3
f
i a
i . 4
“2 #
7 +
‘ i \
? hey .
‘
‘ *
: be
! a
4
i a:
: eet a
> : -
3 Pa
4 , mn
‘ .
= 2 =
ae
if:
' 7
s
+s
Hi :
4 ra
t
4 oo
H 5
a a
4 os
H
4
; t
} ,
4
'
vt
i
i
i |
‘ ‘

48 16>) |
Point out to you the belt mode oF
ures of fenfe. “It isté treat with
about things of infinite weight ; nothing lefs than the
eternal falvation of the foul, I am to preach the cof-
Pel to this great alfembly of my fellow-finners

enjoying the pleaf-
immortal! beings

_ To you, Samuet, the unhappy criminal, I come
in the wame of the Lord Jetus ; and to you I am to
offer the words of cternal life. You ftand in an af-
FeGing, In an awfal fituation, Having been accu fed
ol the crime of thedding human blood, the Grand.
Jury of the county, aftcr a due inveftication of the
cafe, have indi€ted you for Murder. Yoy have been
Brought to the barof the Honorable Superior Court,
and ailifted in your defence by able and learned coun-
lcd. But the evidence was fo clear againtt you as to
induce twelve fober, judicious, difinterefted jurors,
on thetr oath, to pronounce you guilty. The fen-
‘tence of death, according to the law of the land, has
: ‘been pafled Upon you ; and the day—the importante -
‘day is come, that youareto dic. Before three of the~
‘clock this afternoon you are to appear an unbdodied
fpirit, before God. “You may expect to know, this
day, your eternal doom,
_ Itisnot my bufinefs at this time to tell you that
you cominitted the faé&. I know not, certainly, that
you are guilty of the crime for which you are to die.
‘The truth is known to God and your owa foul. Bue
this T know, that you have confefled tothe perfoa now
adurelling you, that you have been a great finncr—
that you liave violated God's holy fabbaths, profaned
his’ great name; flizhted his relision, and defpifed his
word. If you murdered Hannah Simons, and perfitt
Inacaying it, however you may confels your other
fins, you will die with a lie in yourrisht hand. Are
you now inthe gall of bitternels and bond of iniquity,
‘YOu are not yet out ofthe reach of mercy. Itis now

Se eee

we ae ere ere
rT canerwan we women 2-7 -

eee = en te

LOW ms

se me ee poe ow

ond

ee ee

et ok ee ee

rt Mae,

a day of grace ;,but this isthe laf. As I have re
; eatedly told you in private, I new tell you in pub-
Bed for the t ¢, upon repentance towards
lic, ‘and for the laft time, uy ) sy sh
‘God, and faith in the Lord Jefus, you fha re be 4
Otherwife you mutt perifh forever. gtk ee i nw
i he preat sy Of Chrift—of his .boundlefs
tion of the great mercy of bow
lovein dying for finners, fhow. you, the evil o a
‘Let this affect your heart, and lead you to god!) tases

yow for all your iniquities.* “’

. “Remember the blood of Chrift is fufficient to cleave
froin all fin. Remember a thief on the crols, and a
“Mary Magdalene found mercy. Rea ge
‘derous'Manafleh, who filled Jerafalem wit he .
‘obtained a pardon. Remember the Golpel wage 5

‘Jerufalem. one Samuel,” they that imbrued ee
hands in the blood of Jefus, were the firft, after his

; ' : ort be oy f £ 1 ee oh
“refurretion, to have the oiler of a pardon’ taroug

“%

‘that precious blood they had fhed. To you, a
“though a great finner, the door of mercy is agree e-
Fly! therefore, OM! fly—this moment fly to aon
‘and, asa broken-hearted penitent, make his rightcou -
enefs all your hope, and all your dependence. To an
‘infinitely mercitul God we commend you, and nant he
hand of an infinitely righteous God we, cheerfully,
leave you.

To this great concourfe of people I muft now fay,
‘you have, exhibited before you, my friends, the evil of
fia, and the great danger of forgetting Gad, and light-
‘ly elteeming his divine authority, ‘There you {ee vile
‘whom fin, ‘at an early” period, has brought to a vio-
lent, untimely death. God {uffers this as a felefin
warning tqevery foul prefent.. Oh! come not Here
-asidle and flupid fpc@tators |! Look not upon the

awful {cene-as a mere arnufement. * Realize the juflice |

of God, and fly from the wrath ta come The gotpel
which has been preached by men miraculoully qual-
a3 eo ed oe ; ‘

‘ -

> a
— <a

~
ee ene gr re
ren ee AE We Pe
.

Ne , ommecny Serer

wet ey

2
?
+ ‘
¢ :
i
ef
Be:
4 ayy
A ele
e- ‘
‘
44
':
4;
rae i
fees
ae
!
dit
a
j {re
, i
tobi as
¢
ay SS
;
Fy i
7
/ .
j .
“}
i .
i
.
*
. é
? wf
Vy fe
! aed
e
-
. -.
;
+
} s
: ’
fhe
4 ‘
Pig tl
a Hy ob
OS
© Fy
‘
‘
<
‘
1
s i
’
ior
’

oT Ome

—intreat you to hear, that your fouls may live,

. tiled to God.

Wig

. the mountatis to cover ticus. from the. face of him

Cay,

ified, and immediately ‘called, is_this day offered
you.. Jefu's invites, and calls you to-day to hear and
obey that golpel which he ordered his apoftles to
Preack to every creature, I invite, and, in. his. namé,

* bess '

few a8 #8

-., Letit be remembered there is a period approaching,
and the 7o// of ages will bring it on, when you -mu(t
appear before the once crucified Jefus—when the def.
piled babe of Bethlehem, the fu fering man of Calvary,
will appear as the ‘Mighty Gon, the judge of all, “]
anuft, therefore, before | difmifs the. fubjeG, point
YOu to the folemn period when Lhe Lord “hin elf fhal!
defecnd from heaven with a fhout, with the voice Wie Arch-
angel, and the ‘rump of God, Until that day we fhall
never meet again. Then, and not till then, we fhalj
_all affcible before our Judec, We fhall Rand on a
level wita the Unhappy. criminal who is this day to
Aiuifh bis courte, _ Happy, glorioufly happy will thar
day be to the rightcous ! Bur dieadful, unf{peak-
ably dreadful, to the wicked, who in the agony of
. wild Gefpair, will caé{ i9 the rocas to fallon thers sand to

‘A: that fit-
the wrath ofthe Lamb,

Now tithe a cepted dime ; behold now is the day of falza-
tion. The time 4s fort. A few days and life will end,
When the feene of mortal things is once clofed, the
miniltry of reconciliation will ceafe forever, Now
then weare anbaffadors for Chri f, as though God did be.
feech you by ys : .

teth on the throne and frem
. ty Ake fon

a
’

‘ . v6 ; . .
a “7 8 Lf.

Beware, therefore, left that come whon you which ps /908-

and wonder, ans

Li of in the progisees, Behold, ye defpifers,
Perifit. - . as ee eee

= = a . Lo

Caw

we pray youn Chrift's fiead, be ye recone

Sep een en

hetvaieei Cay w agree syne

TO ES re serene preventing oe.

ee ee my

~*~
“

2
oe
¢

*fubjedts of death, judoment, and ctcrnity. Te

~ but of fmal] doQrinal
may, naturally, be expected in perfons who indulec,’ |
and allow themfelves in’ a Rated inattention to reli’
gious intruGion, and a fixed difregard to divine

| Leccnctlinatiikadanplaalshin’s Serr hate ak Ee oe etre

APPENDIX.

nae SS : ‘
t

> . »
- WV is ex man is fo deftitute of a fenfe of 10-
rality and the fear of God, and, by the commiffion of
enormous crimes, becomes fuch a dangerous member
of fociety, as torcnder it neceflary that he be taken cf{F
by the hand of juftice, the feclings of the public are,
in fome degree, interefled in his hiftory,
that curiofity which is, ulually, excited on fuch acca.
fions ; but, more efpecially, to afford aleffon of in-
ftru€tion and admonition to mankind, it is judged ex-
pedient to publi the following account of the un-
happy man whofe untimely death occafioned the
foregoing difcourte. . The writer of this narrative had
frequent opportunities, and much conve:fation with
the criininal, after condemnation, upon the jntercRing

good natural underfanding,

“ Peared to be
relizion, aS

a person of
acquaintance with

| things. | ss See

_At one interview, about three weeks before the day’
Of execution, he was afked whether he was willing to
| - give a general account of his life. Efe repried that he
had no obje&tion, andthat he would freely antwer any
queflion that thould be puttohim. [le then wede on
and related, for fubltance, as follows, meer
eee ee A

His father was a negro,and ‘his mother jn Indian
; .- Woman. He was born at Johnflon, in the (hate ot
~ be

t rl .

a ipa _ aia = WO ree nee aye eee ene

To gratify

ap.

ore
ed ¢

OF 2 ay OE Re Ree we ye we perme

core ae AOE Ae
ant Piilettdadthen tsa te ade, Oe saa >
. ‘

Sic

ge ak co.)

2 ee

oe:

‘ ee, r ¢ 4 e.

: . Rhode. Ifland, about the year 1780. When he was Hannah Simons, an indiin woman, for the murder .
poiti four years old he went from Johufton with his Darents : q of whom he was fentenced to die, lie oblerved, ne °

: on hers ee tefided a few months, and faw at Mendon, about Girt intel ga cates A te

! Li : neon - He lived in Bolton with with a man with whom fhe MS Ste Mee gs ne Pe '

Hl i, 7S parents about fix, or feven years. When he was F her hufband, having never been lawfully marricc kai
pes eleven years old, or thereabouts, he went- with. one © bie Wenevor faw. her ateswards, till he met with
1 ae Mr. Boyd, a merchant, to Portland, . with whom he her at atavern in Mansfield, laft Apnil. The rane i.
- t okie or. oe and then returned. | “day at evening, he faw her = « co ee
Pah ed Wale Mee Parents aah gone, he refided a year t Afhford, when fhe agreed to leave Las “With i Fd :
Me alt with Primus Mall a negro, in Bofton,— | fhe had cohabited, aud live with him. Wit lawful
His other then making a vifit at that town, probably, + - acknowledged he cohabited, and lived in an unlawfu : i
i] alee ent eegehinth ero Mendon, wher’ | rates etal doy when erent rougheon
iy were em ther lome months, from whence they, ' him the fufpicion of ee. « to te for- i
“. shel ee readed in. Wrentham a year and haif, | to wipeaway. Alas ! bow dangerous to itep on tor- ;
| ) From that: period he lived alternately in Wrentham, t bidden ground ! Stolen wateis, tho {weet at fir, are
i - I’ranklin, Lellingham and Mendon, until the {pring i bitter in the end. .Many things which give the finner
poof, Of 1893.) When he was inthe 234 ‘year of ‘bis age, | a nidmentary fatisfaction, at length, will dite like a fer-
i a he Was; married to.a girl whofe name was Alathea i pent, and frte like an adder. a i
Ete Newman, by a civil officer in Mendon. By his wife ties ; :
i oa he had one child, only. that furvived her—which is. _- Ifere it may be proper, and ferve to fatisfy the pub- :
Pata now between two and three years old, and lives with. lic mind, to give a flatement of the principal fads ‘
his moter, His wife died in November, 1804. In: which apocared on trial. © This appears eXPCdICne GR

~ the (pring following, he came to Afhford, where he * the ground thatitis known the criminal denied, even -
; refided, principally, until the calamitous a Tair which, ; tothe Jaf, his having defignedly killed the woman, :
; Occafhioned his confinement.in prifon. cae eg. . “i :
ee, His advantages, as is common with that fort of peo! *. { At the trial before the Ton. Superior Court, it ap-
riigde ple who live a wandering unfettled life, we may ..3.) peared by fubftantial evidence that on the 24th day of i
ie af naturally conclude were {mall. But yet, hé had..'+>*} May, 1805, Samucl Freeman, the prifoner, and Han-. :
oes mo Cducation enough, had he been well difpofed, to have ..+} nah Simons, an indian woman, weutin company, to ‘
: done, regularly, common bufinefs, and to have made | the houfe of Azariah Rufs, in Afhford, where they tar- t

sf a decent, valuable citizen. | His father, he obferved, | ried fometime. While at that houfe Hannah lay j
dete th hada pretty good common education, and took pains : {.. down onthe bed, complaining’of wearinefs and great ?
: to learn him to read and write. He went toa {chool | faticue. Samuel infifted on her getting up and go. :
one month, taught by a writing mafter, and a fhort } ing home to the hut where they refided, which was int ;

; time to a woman, which was all the opportunity of | dn adjoiningtot, at the diftance of about fixty or feven- i

a a inflru€tion he ever enjoyed, except what his father .4 ‘ty rods. When fhe appeared unwilling co 90, urging :

taught him. But with thele advantages he was able |<"; that the was tired and wanted reft, he replied that ke

3 to read and write intellizibly, vos} was tired, alfo, and they would po home and ‘eft there: :

oa <n pak J i

an titer ; , _ a . a ie alll Patera ee ee ™ ‘eos 2 - ere >
sasha sacar tee len . pa eee if

ee oe eee

( 22)

She then e°tup and went out with him. While pal-

fing thro the garden, on the back fide of the houfe, |
fhe topped, and appeared un willing to 69 forward,

He addreffed hey then, Come along, damn yor, come alone,
n her not regarding this, . he, fpoke with Increafed

a fad
heat and anger, God damn you, come along. She then.

followed him to the fence onthe farther fide of the
Garden, where fhe again difcovered an inclination to

return. There he was heard to treat her with rough

language, but the words Were. not diftin@ly under.

ftood by. the witnels, They, then, §9% Over the fence, -

Into the road, walked On together a few Tods, paffed

over a Pair of bars into the pafture where their houfe.
ftood, travelled On towards the houfe, and the witnefs”

faw them no more,, .

Within - it ho a half, $'
as aoe af near and a half, S. came back to
; enguired of the family whether NH. had

been there—faid fhe Was gone off, and he could not:

find hey, -

ro
P t

‘ ie ® ,

It appeared, alfo, that people in opnofite direQions

from the pafture into which they were feen to enter,

and at the diftance of nearly half a mile, heard an’
Outcry, repeatedly, and in thefe words, O dear ! 0
dear ! The precife time when this cry of diftrefs was
. heard, the witneffes could not afcertain ; but it was,
da their opinion, about two or three o'clock in the

. . i - ‘ .
_ arternoon. He was {cen the famie afternoon travel.

ling fat about the neishborhood—of forme perfons
engttiting after Tpatling by others in a hurry, and
_ talking to himfelf, manifelting-» mind unceafy and dif.
terbed. In the courte of the afternoon, he was heard
to call H. aloud, a number of times in the patture.
When enquired of by a perfon whether he had looked

for her in the grove in the pafture, and. where her.) -
body was, cventually, found, he replied, yes, LAave

looked every wiere there. _ .

{

‘cited that S. had murdered her,

.¢

£323: 9

Toward night, he went again to Rufs’, and carricd

the hat, gown and {hoes which H. had on-when they
were there together at -2,0’clock, and left them wita
the family, telling them tl

-Icft them in the houfe,

iat when fhe went off, fhe

9 : ; . =: . : 1 :

.. Thefe things took place on Friday. From that
‘time, for feveral days, there was enquiry after H. and
her being gone, was the fubjeét of much converfation

4n the neighborhood, )
‘tures on the fubject, and flrong ful

‘There were various “conjec-
picions were ex-
wont is ‘

2 | On Saturday, $. went #0°Mansficld, in fearch of

an indian man’ and woman, with whom he had
been intimate. They went to his hut, and tarricd
“with him over the fabbath. | Some time in the courle
‘of the fabbath, foap was procured’ from a neighbor.
ing houfe, and, as S. afterwards related, the indjan
woman wathed a fhirt for him.

When on his way to Mansficld, he was ata boufe
about a mile from the place where he had refided.:
he woman of the houfe had not heard that II. was
-miffing, but having often feen them in company,
afked after her, * [e replicd, She is down there. The
woman replied, Ts fhe down at Rufs' 2 Yes, Laid he,
She is down there at work. - At another time it being
rlugeeRed to him that HH. Was dead; he obferved to
Uuis cfFeck, if fhe is dead, Lam glad of it, for she has beer
a fe 40 me, and every body elfe that had any thing to do
“wen here * Dg ee SS Ga ee Ae

i
ee

The n®xt week on Mriday; her body was found in
, 2 grove of bathes and {inall trees, in the pailure where
“they were jaf (eon together ; and inthe direa courte,

_. very nearly, from where they entered the paflure, to
“the houfe; and about fifty rods from ‘the houie. - The

-
foe

. : ,
‘ ‘ ‘
: Te aero ———,, papules ieee aces

geek:

Jay vie: @ sep, gremanempepantiiiaia tig!
fsa - Loe tain ‘

SO pene arene ele

PI ne ey pas, TN Tes ae cme oe

7 Ne late atta

Tere en ei,

toMy

<—
‘

~:
i pe Ser —--

IMPUSINO HANGED,

(Concluded from Page 1)

during the day he maintained hts foal
bine ' ite IMpripoumMe at has cane ds
10s. @even POULIN oF n- :

TEN ha reel ail other coudvmues |
aen e , ;

pia non Welgnt While in =iy |
att W@s once said that murder, like |
pave. ecems Occaslunally iy run in!
Sn oe The nmeent develupmentg |
8 alule. Bae to snow that:

Te Cem mee. an ve

ever hangid., Hi
Impusino had hig lant mea] at 5:30 |

World and the Papers,” he sald, “that

Iam an innnce
wilt Aarne nt man and ald not com-

gate, Ofticer Risley: :
) Sley; prison yz 2
Carter; prison wall, Ofticers Ronee

Tmpuaino’s Crime,

Tmpusino was an accomplice of
Guiseppe Fuda tn the brutal murder of
the Jatter’s wife, Maria Carmelia Fuda,
in East Norwalk, on the night of Feb-
xuary 17, 1897. Fuda confessed that he
and Impusino planned the murder. The
woman was murdered with a hatchet,
which was found near the scene of the
trime. Her body was discovered by
.trainmen on a freight that passed
through East Norwalk on the night of

the murder. The head waa terrlbly
gashed and there were indications that
a struggle had taken place,

The two men were traced to Stamford,
and from there to New York. Fuda was
errest:d in an Italian lodging house In
Mulberry street,. New York, and Im-
pusino was captured in Buffalo. At the
trial in Bridgeport Fuda admitted the
murder, but implicated Impusino, clalm-
ing that he himself held his wife while
Impusino struck the blows. He claimed
to have been actuated by Jealousy on
account of his belief in her infidelity.
Fuda was found guilty on June 11 and
six days later was sentenced to be
hanged on Dee: mber 3. Impusing was
found guilty of the same murder and

‘was sentenced by Judce Wheeler to be
hanged on December 17,

Impusino was more intelllgent than
Fuda and the evidence showed that {ft
was he who conceived the murder and
plotted {t. A short time Defore Fuda
was hinged he made a statement reljev-
ing Impusino ¢rom direvet responalbility
for the murder and admitting that he,
and he alone, struck the blows which
killed his wife. ;

Impusito wis the fifth man to be
hanged.on the Lutomatic gallows at the
state prison. The first was John Cronin,
who was hanged December 18, 1894, at
1 o'clock a. m., for the murder of Albert

- =—=— =

Rkinner at South Windsor. Caspar
Hartleln, who murdered Loulse Trebbe |!
of South Manchester, was hanged De-
cember 3, 1895, at. 12:26 a. m. Thomas
F. Kipple, who killed his wife at New
_ddaven, was hanged July 14, 1897, at 12:36
a.m. Fuda was hanged December 3 at
12:26 o'clock. ,

be ty}
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- TTT OT eeeec nae LA ere dm etL mM
ns ee
MODERN IAGO HANGED. f =e
“* _ Har.ford, Conn., Dee. 22.—Nicsdemo he
rt Imp:asi:.0, an I:allan, aged 23, was To
IY hanged at the Wethersfela Bate pI J
2 pdson at 12:30 O’clock this morning. CO
4! Twelve minutes later he wag pro- | \O 5
|* nourced dead. His neck wes broken, N“ ra

oT and he made.a few spasmotic Gx ug-
CQ rn) * gles, Impossino was &D accomplice of
(Cx

ld Giuseppe Fuda tn the murder of the
Ks Fo {3 >) latters wife, Maria Carmelia Fuda, at .

. ‘Y East Norwalk, Cona., Februazy 17,

A) o¢ ues te 1897, Fuda wae hanged Decembcr 3,
AR [ 20 . (rN *~ The woman had been unfaithful to her |
is husband, and Impossino urge4 Fuda |

- § Ww KIII her, He even lured Mis. Fuda |
¥1 | ‘> to the tallroad track, where ‘her hus-
rh
|

FUDA

hanged |

-| Pusino gave no signs of breaking down |

vue we.

‘tmowp ss

man’s neck was broken and he was pro-

Hanged at the state prison last night.

mvutyT

C
po
at
.
\N
et
fo
Co

eee

The Trap Was Sprung at
12:28,

monRoRmae

FRONOUNOED pbmapD AFTER 192
, MINUTES,

He Declared His Innocence to the
End-Went to the Gallows Without
Fiinching—How He Spent. His Last

Niocodemo Impusino wags hanged at

IMPUSINO HANGED.

the state prison at 12:33 o'clock this
morning for complicity In the murder |
of the wife of Guleaeppe Fuda, Im-

and appeared to be much more com-
posed when “he entered the execution
room than Fuda did, The exeoution
Wan siccensful tn every -way. The

nounced dead in twelve minutes from
the tithe his body shot up into the alr; -
Aside from his religious faith, there
were two things that did considerable
toward easing Impusino’s mind towards
the end: Until yesterday he had be-
Neved that hie execution “was to be
public and all who would pay an ad-
mission would be entitled to see him
hang. He was greatly pleased when he
was told the truth, Another thing that
worried Impusino was the fear of net
being burted by friends, No one had
claimed his body and according to the

“

NICODEMO IMPUBINO,

law it would be sent to the Yale Medi-
cal School. The Rey, Edward Flannery
Claimed the body and it will be buried

this morning in St. Patrick's cemetery,

bs ‘eal

It was the first hanging at the state
Prison at which none of the directors
was present. Sheriff Hawley of Bridge-

port was not present, either, because he
was so busy with the murder case down
theré .

At one minute after midnight Wanden
Woodbridge, Deputy Warden Balsden,
Dr. Fox, the prison Physiolan, three
guests invited by Impusino and Officers
Doolittle, Edgett and Clarkin marched
to Impusino’s cage, and the warden
redd the death warrant to him It was’
simular to the one read to Fuda. The
two priests had been with Impusino for
One hour previous to this time,

fan Bible. He had nothing to say. After

party returned to the office and were
back in thirteen minutes, Then the
march to the execution room began.
Those who were present when the war-
rant was read went. to the cage and
the reporters were taken to the execu-
tion room by Acting Deputy Perkins.

Freer; “Post,” T. J. Kelley; “Times,”

“Btamford Advocate,” ‘Robert Johnson;
“Bridgeport Standard,” 8, C, Waldo;
“Bridgeport Farmer,” J. L. MoGovern;
“Norwalk Hour,” A. KE, Austin; “Dan-
bury News,” F, B. Dalton.

There were three guests invited by
:Impuaino " through Shertff flawiey.
; They were Dr. W. B, Tuttle of Strat-
‘fora, Dr, Charles . Linooin Banks of
Bridgeport, the physician at the Bridge-
port jail, and Albert AL Steele, the
assistant jailer, who had Charge of

‘clock and Deputy Baisden put’on the
black cap and adjusted the Tepe, which

crime. Impusino stood upon the plate
for twenty-three seconds and then he

pusino’s muscular Contractions were
greater than Fuda’s and his legs were
drawn eeveral times. At 12:85 o'clock
ife was pronounced extinct and the
body was lowered at 12:43 o’clock.

The body was immediately placed in
a coffin and portions of the funeral ser-
vice were read by the two priests. It
wae then taken away by Kenney &-Dil]-
lon. Warden Woodbridge congratulated
the Rev. Edward Flannery and the Rev.
John T. Lynoh for their efforts in pre
paring the condemned man so well ¢or
his doem. The priests said he bore up
remarkably well. In fact, there was a
smile on bis .face.when he entered the
Geath chamber, ° “3

The following facts concérning the

the Rev, Edward Flannery: His name
is Nicodemo Impusino, eon -of Joseph
TImpusino and Anna Magir; born in
Martone, Reggio di Calabria, Itaiy; be-
tween 28 and 24 years oid; came to
America three years ago the 26th of
last March; has etx sisters In Italy; Ig
® laborer; his father and mother are
living. . .

About @n hour before the execution
Warden -and Mrs. Woodbntidge served
luncheon to the reporters and invited
guesta,

‘|. Story of-the Night,

on hie lips,” was the answer made by
'Impusino when. told: by his’ spiritual
advisers yesterday that Fuda hed made
& confession. At every opportunity

They had found him reading his Ital- |

prisoner were obtained from him by:

“Fada did not dare to die with « le

the reading of the death warrant the:

The reporters were: “Courant,” W. D.!
Joseph Mullin; “Telegram,” E. C. Allen; .

397; and IMPOGENO, hanged CT k2/17/1897...

—

‘Panowed thal the neck Was, broken, the] |
rope had done Its work,

Hertlein's body was taken down and
Placed In a romewood Chrtkel provided
by Kenney & Dillon, On the plate wan
aimply the name:

**Koepar Hertiein,» ‘

ee Pt Sra ‘| The body war blaced tn rhe Chaket ;
. “nd conveyed to the morgue At F
cf . | “Clock this morning ©. J. Dillon, ace.
A companied by Deputy Warden Baisden ie "His Good Appetite.
«

Look the bedy in an Undertukenr's wagan

aneeny 2

ira

oo 7 by road to Winsted for burlat in the Yerterday when told by the vaca

t-te ued ror Pawel.) Roman Catholic Cometery there, . that he would be given an opportt :
eee eS aa: Burgeon Fox gave a eertificate that to speak before being hanged he sald:
J ernmen. semen at ae ewer ant tee Hertlein's death was Caused by hang. oy ae to suy much, only.a few
Telonsed” the © shot trom the Ing In accordance with law. the neck “I «Pag Ny guetta to thank you and the
[oylnder.” The onand on the = dial being broken and the (own clerk of |) words. Me Woodbridge and all the
pever the door of the cage rodin Just | Wetherafivid gave a permit for burial Meputy, | Mrs. tw kind treatment” When
‘htehind Hertlein jumped to the death's! and the removal of the body to Win- poy A epdbridee gave him his sup-
i} head and Instantly, ike a Naah of ligiit. sted, Warden tie he sald: “Well, warden,
(J Ring, Hertletn’s body few upwards Mra, Woodbridge furniahed a lunch- ber last n . t-roeal I aba)) -give you
| about mix feet. He dropped to about peer at Il o'clock to those who were this ds ae ‘bout wo ; :
two feet trom.the foot This war at {Present to witness the hanging. Wy otatkay he arose at 1:90" o'clock,

iecisely “32:26 Ceclack, ‘or about fifty The Prison dlrectors peuesriee At the washed and dresaed “himseif-and-ate a’

seconds. Prom the time Herein began brison overnight, breaded veal, bread
if Mis web tothe plate, ; Morticin Like na Chila,, Pie eee PG Da .
[eneieweu deeantearut ae reacted! | gaagaaqehytetn fake 8 Cn Mr to] | Bor dinner he had romnt lamb, celery,
age i Mh x , {| Warden Woodbridge and the reat of the sweet and white potatoes, turnips,
;ReamM, the head inclining ty the right r, coffee, squash ple, fruit,
{Aid xhowing hie Dare hack hee piton oftiviala, We har been cheerful and. ee ig “
ined : ee: Hover, His hands wert ‘74 through his confinement and har not hb tate FRITS -HUpper at $00 o'clock |
Raialche elutobes™ Se Y tke He | neorney ALY fear of death, In fact has lof bedf steak, bacon, baked potatoes,

best nee vd as neh wen - His . wcemed to antlelpate death with Ane ‘apple sauce, cookles, loaf dake,.cheese,
elite’ th F pets af Lad fon, con. ‘pure, The pant few days he has’ een brag dy or, ted, (rule, :
[tr pal Ng et r ee Thin her te brs f eval, chatting and Joking With the day Oe r 4) Sih Fe “nis Gerinan testament
eon Huh dee it . jige Reich 7 {and night watchmen, Monday night : ‘to Father Bennelder and his pipe to F,
hao dalheA, ated bet he Hh ts ane [asked the night watchmen wheth 'Gi‘Holmes, the day watchman.

ena +e ib TH ee fameht rt they knew the difference between the iv Mra, Woodbridge: sent two bouquets

earent ak ain alg vee xf “aah yQerman and American way of dancing “of flowers to-his cell yesterday with
sawing be ine eat ; gosh tte ey and to Mlustrate ahowed them the. Gere , rwhich: he was very much. delighted.
There wan pots fernks: Wviteerh i oyee nk the *] RU etep, dancing around hia CARO, ‘ The Roy..John.T. Lynch and the Rov.

When Deputy Warden Baluden nerved |
his supper Tuesday yj ° :

olas Schneider of New Hritaln both

chert, Gead or hands. The four don. ‘op-hith yesterdey and spent nome.

tore advanced ax Quickly ae the troidy 4 ia ‘eaned ‘ei }
‘fell amd began to note the Pulsations cf ory i i PAM aa ROEy, GED vs | [ time: an eligtous conversation.
the heart at the wrint Dr. Fox applying ty, nat night Night Wat hnan@. a, | ea sn tua > homage
tix finger to the taan's pulaa while "De Munroe, hat being sleeny, Dexen to hutn

Campbell watched closely tor ny signs ie a low tone a Balvation Army tune, |

ie aife. Al 12:34, eight minutes Wter the hath a be ined to, hear Hertlein |

body shot intu the alr, Dr, ox ordered Phlstle an accompaniment, It was then.

the straps removed ‘except from the 2:30 rag igi aware tile aantoes

ankles, and unfastening HerQetn's Vea aeypuiey i vid War ag nee edd Sa Bald:

pulled up bir Shirt and tinder. B sao 1 - -? —— we you mine. In

ehirt 90 wa te apply the mtetho. oe houre T can Ko to sleep.” Koon

Reupe tu the bate teah ‘wter Shi: felt naenetrned Over on his side and

heart. His Pulse Wan then strong nine trae ‘
l ueating 4 to the minute ax counted by Worse as Hy nbere aH told Warden

Dr. Campbell Thin was a reat aur nl rh rae, dhat : al mlept well the

Prime to the dee lors, n6 JL was antict- b . a) - AnaG wae advived to xo to
j bated. that Hertlein would have been Hi seh ane Fels Kood night's sleep,

rrone dead by then. Each of the doce colt Bet ne NOW arden, 1 might ag!

torn applied the atethowvope In turn ind The att un: tw taat night On earth,

noted the heart beatings growing The warden urged him to go to bed aa

falnter-nnd fainter. it wan nat unth deen cnt reply WP auke that of an.

12:44, or 18 minutes after he was hanged, to? rigid uid, “We IT don't care; 1 go

that Dir, Fox Pronounced ite Owen ie Be go. te.

fo he extine athe Pulantions — af iy hen his black sult of clothes ‘was.

the heart had ceased entirely and mven him Sunday he expressed his

Hartein, was lend, He. never ‘thanks and said that he ‘didn't expect

Semeihed after. hin.” nedy seit pe veatan ge tances, thed” & aes .
afttr being ralxed ao awiftly into ‘the eh soy, at Talthe ane oF ie fert

wir by the falling of the 312-potnd os th to a fl V arden Rataden:

PWelght. The length of time Hertlein's'|, mer" em new shves the warden save

heart continued to beat gave reason tg |) . : eS

Teor that he had dled from auffocation, All-throuxh hi confinement Hertlein

han alwayn been ready to talk about
but an examination nade by the phy, | sii
Kivians After the body wda cut fy his vietim and has frequently natd that

; RT ied he could not ree why he killed Loulse,
Ahowed that the neck Was, broken, the
. pie : . He loved het und Was anxious tu go to
rove had done ita work, her. He only wanted the time to paar
rapidly away xo that he could meet her,
The other day in’ conversation with
one of his keepers he sald referring to
the hanging: “Ip my country if a man
shows the white feather when he is go-
ing to be hung he Is always hated."

: Hertlein haa never inquired about his
“wife, but one day azked Warden Wood-
bNdge it he had seen his boy-and jn.
quired. if the boy: was.in- Wethersfield.
The warden informed. him that the boy
had heen taken to° the County Tem-
perary-Home and Hertlejn’s reply waa:
“I'm 80 glad,” ge ais ae i
. He had frequently expreesed his sur.
prise that all the priaon OMiclals were
HQ 00d to him, a .

COMPLETE DETECTIVE,

pocket ‘and

up of men
‘the murders

called out to

» eided 3°..-
2° *You wi

on my

» °-Benjamin led
-.the’ courthouse.’ He.
Attorney P. R. Heily. =.

“I want to file.a charge 0
vagainst Frank Robideau for the mur-
[Mike and Frieda Kuntz,” he

* “Against me?-
ou said . . 4
Mads oes Joseph Li
.= “Member him in New York;:
~~. He killed David Varno.”. =":
~~ Robideau’s face drained white.’

f murder

4 You re-
ont you.

men, two of whom answered the po-.
lice description, rode with him as far.
as Blohm Street, where all got. off.
~ One of these men, the youth with the
- twisted .neck,. the conductor stated,
handed him. a.slip with -the..name
.*Blohm Street” written: on it-askin
they be let off at that stop, an
he did as requested.’ RS S -
- Acting ‘under orders *, nl
-. police headquarters in New Haven, »< “Just a guy
Operator. William Ballard at the East | whining voice answered.”
Derby signal tower contacted the local
police department explaining the cir- ~
cumstances and asking for assistance.
Police Officers Frank J. Manion and
-James Reardon hurried to the lonely
spot on the outskirts of town where
striple tracks run across along a 200- —
tle facing a high river and

from auilvoad

“Signals swung red against the on-
coming freight and the engine chugged
to a stop half way across the trestle.
“Manion and Reardon ran down the

alk as the engineer climbed down

in*longhand by the killer. At first,
we thought maybe the Kuntzes were
killed by hitch-hikers. But when
we al Ss looking it over, it didn’t seem
likely that hitch-hikers would know
that Mike owned the grain elevator
or where. his house was located.
“Next, we went to work on_ the
love angle. We thought maybe Mike
..or Frieda was mixed up in some kind
of: an affair... But that was entirely
out.’ Mike and Frieda were only in
love. with each other. ~
-s.“The only thing left was that Mike
must have made an enemy through
his business. I took all the cancelled
checks and letters’ in his files and
sent them to the Federal Bureau of
~ Investigation along with the notes left

oat the house and on the grain elevator.
‘1 asked ‘them to. compare the writing

<-om the notes with the signatures on
‘the’ checks. 40°

— “T received a telegram this morning.
The signature on the check endorsed
by Frank Robideau was identical with
the writing on the notes.”

~~ County Attorney Heily listened with.
amazement. - “But ‘why?” he cried.
“Why did’ Robideau kill them?”~
“Yeah, why?” Robideau. sneered.
“That cock and bull story about...”

d County “He killed them because he forced

Mike to write that check for six hun-
dred and seventy-five -dollars.”

“I sold him grain for it,” Robideau
screamed. “I can prove that I brought

ash, Pees IR ace

~. “Mortgaged: grain,” Benjamin said.
_“That grain you brought in was mort-
‘gaged’ to the’ hilt.
pay you until the mortgage had been
- -satisfied.~You--forced him at the
point ofa gun ‘to give you the check
forite™ 1 See Ss. ;

-- Robideau wilted.

> “But that stuff about Joseph Liberty
when you first came in? What was
thatiall about?” ~Heily asked. _
“Benjamin smiled..<'That was from
-the FBI: too.*= This “isn’t: Robideau’s
first. murder. © Under. the name of
*“Joseph Liberty he. was convicted of

“The? following ~ morning,’ at’ eleven © elevator ‘and the. house were written. killing.a man in a holdup in Ne
o'clock, a wire came: for Benjamin
: from the Federal Bureau. “Benjamin.
scanned’ it with almost unbelieving |
eyes; thrust it in - his
headed for-the street. —
“He ran into the same gro
who-had been discussing
the previous: afternoon.
Frank -Robideau' had
Benjamin. ““You’d better do some-
thing ‘pretty quick about’ Mike and -
being murdered, or ‘we’re go-
ing to have a necktie _
he boys an

AY won't have to worry,” “Ben-

‘living around here since about. 1922

: He must have came directly to Wheat “7

here for fifteen years withopt anyone:

killed him. Frieda snatched the gun

. to die too.”
~~ “And little Larry hit himself over

-going to that necktie party you were ;

“Kuntz wouldn’t -

MARKED FOR MURDER : |

| a
York in: 1922.” , 7
“In 1922? Why, Robideau has been «|

or ’23.”

Benjamin nodded. “I know. He's
was sentenced to twenty years, but»:
he escaped from the Auburn prison..

a tet Ce ee ae

Basin where he settled down under.
He has lived

the name of Robideau.

ever finding out about,his past until
he took to murder again.” heen
Robideau, who had sat listening to
Benjamin paint a complete picture of
him, cried: “I want to tell the true
story. I made Mike give me, that
check. He didn’t want ‘to, because
my wheat was mortgagee. But I
didn’t. murder him. Ww.
home when he picked me up.
started to argue with me, and I. was”
afraid he was going to kill me, so I

‘out of my hand and killed herself.
She said if Mike was dead, she wanted

the head with the butt of. the gun,”
Benjamin jeered. “Your story 1s no |
g Robideau. . It looks like you are

trying to arrange for those two in--*
nocent hitch-hikers—but, you are go- "3
ing to be the guest of honor.” . + F
Benjamin was right. On December | '
15, 1937, a jury found Frank Robi- =3 :
deau guilty of murder in the first 3
degree. - Judge. Ben Harwood sen- 4
tenced him to death. “i
From a scaffold.erected_in an old © %
warehouse in Columbus, Frank Ro-.:
bideau plummeted to his death at the
end of a rope on January 15, 1938.
The innocent hitch-hikers were re- |
leased and completely exonerated of
any connection with the crime.

(The names George Cabot, Joe
Doman, Bob. Speal, Froeman,_ and
Hugh and Elsa Brown are fictitious... |
to save innocent persons from em-"
barrassment.) an

(Continued from page 27)

from the
- them. :

“What's the big idea?” he wanted

to know. .°

» Leaving Reardon to explain, Manion
started down along the line of cars...

‘A vague form loomed before him...
. “Who ‘are you?” the
‘ manded, gun
his flashlight... .

-. Manion was not so sure. “Put them
‘him for-
ward, The man obeyed, deftly tossing
something behind him. It landed with
a thud in the darkness below as the

‘up,” he ordered, motionin

-officer’s light suddenly flashed on.

cab and walked towards ingly towards him; the prisoner

officer de-- slipped from beneath a coupling an

ready as he reached for:

bumming a ride,” ‘a

Behind the figure now standing close
with upraised arms, he glimpsed two:
other forms. He ordered them closer.:
One broke, ran to the end of a wooden
girder and leaped into space. Manion
fired as he landed and disappeared
into the thick underbrush. Hands in
air, the second man slouched unwill-

- “This train didn’t come from the cit

be- |
side him stiffened. Sensing danger,
stepped .back from the gori a-lik
arms. His foot tripped on a sleepe
and he lost balance. he,
«The two men ‘started for him. ke
“He called for help. The engineer :>

Officer Reardon vaulted into view.)
More men came running from the
caboose with lighted lanterns. Manion)
regained his footing. “Handcuff those®
men,” he ordered. a
Search -of the train ~- revealed: no}
other riders. He turned his torch up:
on his first capture, a curly-hairedy
dark-eyed youth in his early twen
who blinked in the blinding light
“Where did you come from?
asked. '
“Pier 25, New York City,” the you
obviously of Italian descent answer
“That’s a lie,” broke in the enginé

We made up at Cedar Hill.” Be.
“I didn’t say I got on at New York

Bs. Ee?

Sine a suick going over.”
mee d recognize him if you
again?”’ Loomis asked.
oT most certainly would,’’ was the
prompt reply.
The Chief turned to Scamsiei a Jo
Tierney who had responded
headquarters with a squadg@OE

killers.

Medical Exami
Krwalewsky forced
the crowd. Hog :

@pexaminer ob-
fea, it badly.”
bf the dead
put a wallet
denomina-
gold watch
Further
fled to un-

im identity.
ais flashlight

h’s face.

he is?” he

gasp from a
cirts the crowd.
iyogorward.
Hewdeclared. “His
Goldstein and he’s

fy Rents one of
tts at 168 Peck
ig tailor shop in
ew Haven. Does
e Yale students.”
The Chief noted
ere quivering. ‘So

on ’t know,” the landlord said.

st know he told me some weeks

Bo his life was in danger. He said

e was being watched wherever he

went and some men followed him

right to the door of his home last

Saturday night.”

“Did he tell you anything else?”

“Nothing,” the man returned, “but

maybe his wife can help. She was
with him on Saturday night.”

The medical examiner ordered }thga
body removed to a nearby under
taking establishment. Tierney
his men returned from their searGhgaige “Tak
He reported there was no trace (OEgas i tbat ur ection he:} “«
the missing men. From a nearD¥qeCaPetamne@ cit Sign Of, te" testo anvaus Were s tne nearest pia
telephone, Loomis ordered all roa@S#yiuie 0 @unaDee ip treight traim © them of?" the New Haven de
leading out of town blocked are ashing from view, A. subsequent asked, She Gh uains Sul
issued further instructions for poli¢
to search all outgoing automobi
and trolley cars. Me
“There’s something very que@eigia
about this killing,” the sergeant tof
the chief when he returned. “I wei
just talking with the barber wg
has a shop up on Blohm Street 463
far from Peck Street. He says th@geg "tl eet
same three men were standing n@AfaenmAtaNew aiaveu Douce Neadduar= a At Wea Haven, §
his shop when he closed up a fewawters. Detective. hes Des dow ‘who had “bec
minutes before nine o’clock. V
they saw him, they hurried dé
in this direction. A few mi
later he heard the shots.”
“What makes him so sure
were the same men?” aske@
Chief. _ Loe
“One of them had a
neck,” the officer explained
that’s not all. He says tha
these same three men hanging’ak
town late Saturday nights.
In addition to noting fhe
with the twisted neck,/th

stbounc

ing a light colored pop -coat--had= Haven treiehtes
large protruding eyes@ind 1ong black = son hints

hair showing beng
cap. Further ing@iri
neighborhood disélose

“We should4
before,” 6)
avenue is

I Crimson Raid of the Cellar Club Killer

[Continued from page 45]

of scene momentarily narcotizes their Unfortunately, Kehoe went on to say,
nerves and lends them a feeling of false the druggist paid
Security. Rarely does the young tough to the speeding c
wander afield until he has knocked off time that a crime had bee

no such example of
little further attention gO unpunished as

Over to his parents with the comment: “A Mill river. Yet nowhere
fine boy you've got here—a brave lad did they find further trace of the car in dashery, closing late
with plenty of what it takes!” His had question, or any car at all, for that matter.

been a ghastly, harrowing night, The neighborhood had gone to bed. Greenwich, George
he discovered that Garrity and Maloney Orchard street inasmuch
had returned, Their job of Canvassing the no other: direction in wh
pool halls in Bridgeport before closing _ proceed. Unbridged
time was completed. Their work had been Yellow Mill curve

ich he might the robbers fled,
“at. this point, the
d cityward to the north,

in land in a narrow bulge south of Spring.
found by Regan was used by only one Here stretched o
establishment,

And there no one had noticed a tall, and squalor, In t

thin man in a brown suit shooting pool men gathered no further information con- ber of its Massac

or hanging around—not lately, at any cerning the getaway car. Merritt rushed to h
rate. Nor did the Proprictor recall any “Gone,” muttered Br:

recent instance of chalk disappearing, ‘Long gone!” For a moment he regarded was broadcast. Nine

he had told the two detective “But I can’t understand
Sergeants, “Of course, sometimes a player ber

slips a block in his pocket and walks off, that direction, Suppose a prowl car had tall and thin,
forgetting he’s got it. But nobody ever been hot on the trail? There are only a

why anybody Danbury officer 300 on

pteals the stuff because it is worth so few streets leading out of the hook in . “I'll be right down.”
ittle.’

replacements and at the time of the of-

cers’ visit all tables were equipped. after all, they’re out-of-towners and in were Westport and th

i , they were heading home, Not necessarily tiple hazards of capt
an alternative, however, there remained 1

a possible contradiction of the officers’

city? [ither this, or could he—still being
local—have recently visited some other

one in which they we
along the way At 11:30 the night be

vicious crime wouk.

mute encouragemer
ar, not knowing at the for other embryo gunmen,

n committed, Yet at 9 o'clock that morning the lieu.
a few successful jobs in his own back- Ile failed to notice the car’s make, color tenant's disturbed rest was completely
yard, as such foolish triumphs build up and license plates, Le only vaguely re- broken up by a phone call from the desk:
his confidence, called that it was occupied by two men. at headquarters. Response had been re)
By 1 o'clock in the morning the errand Whereupon Kehoe and his patrolmen ceived to Regan’s midnight broadcast.
boy fell asleep at his task with no success continued their hunt southeast on Spring Two suspects were under arrest in Dan.
, at identifying the gunman he had seen Street, traversing this residential section bury, .
'H from the photographs he looked through. a half dozen blocks or so to a deadend Nor was the Bridgeport crime the only
! Bray drove him home and turned him at the bank of the sluggish, tidal Yellow

re believed involved t
fore a chain haber.)

after a rush of Sat.

urday business, had been stuck-up in.

ferritt, its manager,

hen Kehoe turned southwest on though forced to hand over the day's
as there was receipts, had acted brilliant]

is’ phone and called

ly disconsolately. the state police. The registration number

hours later the car
“The stulf takes a long time to wear the map thoughtfully and then added, and its occupants were
out,”

picked up by a

liles to the north, ”
it on evading capture would head in Both men wore brown

suits. One was

Okay,” Bray informed headquarters,

“Maybe they didn’t know where they Greenwich was 25 miles or so west of
were going,” Regan suggested, “Maybe, Bridgeport, Intervening on U. S. No. 1

e state police bar-

In this was the Suggestion that the the heat and excitement of escape got = racks, Norwalk, South Norwalk and
killer had, perhaps, secured the chalk at their getaway route mixed up.” Stamford. Would a pair of shaky holdup
this very pool parlor some time ago and

Reluctantly, Bray acknowledged this men, unnerved after an attempted rob-

yet both Regan and Bray deemed it un- Possibility, -yet tenaciously continued bery which resulted in shooting, drive
likely that a man would go around with with what he had been saying, “... unless this distance through the various, mul-
such an article in his pocket for long. As

ure presented by

nome as such, but some hideout or place these towns and try another job—all in

of refuge familiar to them.” And then, in little more than an hour? It seemed
Original theory that the gunman was a_ his own mind, the lieutenant sought to hardly logical, f P
local character, Could he have brought explain the words he had intuitively ut- At headquarters, on Regan’s desk,
the chalk from some pool hall in another tered.

ray caught sight of the Jacobs autopsy
The gunman was frightened and he report, just placed there by Medical Ex-

had exhibited his fright. Perhaps he had aminer HI. LeBaron Peters, The lieuten-
town and returned with the chalk as an conveyed his fear to his confederate, the ant noted that the death bullet, a 32.
unnoticed souvenir? Definite Possibilities river of the getaway car, caliber slug, had been recovered from the
along this line were remote, It was Possibly the pair’s first job, body and was in an envelope,
They had not counted on fireworks, on Examining the markings on the bullet,
bloodshed. Now that both had comeabout Bray stepped out to the desk and spoke
EGARDLESS, Regan and Bray’s wild they were doubly scared—of the police, with the sergeant on duty, “When Dan-
speculations on the subject were tem- of the courts, of the gallows. bury called, did they say they founda gun
Porarily interrupted with the appearance They wanted to get where they were Nn these guys they arrested?”
of. Kehoe reporting to headquarters on known. They wanted to see and be sur- The sergeant nodded.
the result of three hours’ work Performed rounded by people familiar to them. They “What caliber—thirty-two?”
by himself and the Patrolman who had wanted, also, to be seen that they might The sergeant briefly consulted notes
accompanied him. attempt to establish a belated alibi. he was busy transcribing and nodded
“We went northeast on Noble avenue But where would they go in the Yellow again.

from Berkshire, Captain,” Kehoe began, Mill hook? Of all
outlining his course on a wall map of

Bridgeport: which hung near the detec- all its scores of potential criminals, who to Danbury, While he
tive chief's desk. “We figured the get- were they? Sergeant’s phone rang,
away car would turn off one way or the Relieved of duty at 4 a. m., Bray went Bray heard snatches
other as soon as it got out of sight of

the thousands who Bray, learning that Regan would soon
lived there, who would they visit? Of be down, decided to wait before going

Was waiting the

of the ensuing

ome and to bed but his rest was dis- conversation, There was talk of Beards-

the grocery Store, maybe circle around turbed by visions of a long, lean killer ley Park, and of a broy
and head in the opposite direction, Well, who smoked one cigaret after another
I guess we figured right. Three blocks up — and shot intermina
Noble, at Spring street,” the officer in- Even as a nightmare dream the killer this has some connectio1
dicated the corner to which he referred, was elusive, yet Bray, mumbling half
“the druggist there told us that shortly awake, swore to get him,

after ten a sedan rounded the bend so Lester Jacobs’ valorous death should not Bray took over the w
fast he thought for a moment it would sO unavenged, swore that Bridgeport fore he had exchanged
turn over, But it didn’t, It kept going.” — would be rid of such outlaws and that patrolman calling in, he

VN coat.

“Wait a minute, officer,” said the ser-
ble games of pool. eant into his phone. “If you think that

1 with the Jacobs

murder I'll let you speak with the lieu-
swore that tenant. He’s here at the desk.”

ire, but even be-
a word with the
knew that some-

Y as soon as

simplified inasmuch as they had soon dis- yet allowed a few more blocks of filled DSREGARDING the bandits’ warn.
covered that the particular brand of chalk i ings and rushing to the door of his
ne of Bridgeport’s most Store, Merritt caught sight of their black
unhappy tenement districts of poverty Chevrolet sedan hurtling off. As it passed

his area Kehoe and his beneath a Streetlight he espied the num-
husetts plates.

the Yellow Mill. They would have been Yet on the way the licutenant doubt-
The pool hall owner kept one cube on trapped. No, I can’t understand it, un- fully reflected over what he had learned k
cach of his tables, During the preceding ess...” and its possible connection with his case.
few days he had not been called on for

thing was a
Park had om:
a particnhir
And. this spe
from Yellow
definitely
several repet
of police ex}
“Hello,” he
speaking.”
‘Licutenan
man's voice.
the sergeant,
coat I found
—well—I fiz
secing as. hi
brown suit 3
cery store a
that even
clue it wont
the pockets
all cut out. I
“You four
plied Bray.
“Right, s!
patrolman,
“How'd you
“Never m
you are ang
work, offic
As Brav
faced Rea:
ters. Thee
of the Jar
ested in|
port dete
tits ome of
slayer. He
man to go.
But Bray
he suggest:
where the |
to be back
to need hit
Regan e:
up?" he w:
don’t want
don’t want,
“Depend:
where the
Then his
his chief:
on to some
inat theor.
yet. Come
my own \
I'm wrong
forth betw
this thing
meantime
boy.”
Maloney
Beardsley
in, report
arrested bh
itively idk
‘the men \
erdashery
have any
murder.
They h
between
night. Tl
Stamforc
gun foun
with ball
from the
body.
But as
vincing ¢
ment: n:
the man
manager
Regan
the phon
the boy
frownin
a pencil,
commot

ious crime would
e encouragement
len,
morning the lieu-
was completely
all from the desk
ise had been re-
wight broadcast.
irrest in Dan-

i crime the only
vcheved involved,
e a chain haber-
‘ra rush of Sat-
eu stucktup in
it, Its manager,
over the day’s
tly as soon as

e bandits’ warn-
_the door of his
ht of their black
off. As it passed
espied the num-
plates.
hone and called
stration number
rs later the car
picked up by a
to the north,
suits, One was

1 headquarters,

utenant doubt-
he had learned
n with his case.
or so west of
mn U.S. No. 1
tate police bar-
Norwalk and
{ shaky holdup
ittempted rob-
shooting, drive
‘ various, gnul-
presented by
her job—all in
ir? It seemed

Regan’s desk,
Jacobs autopsy
ry Medical Ex-
s. The lieuten-
1 bullet, a .32-
vered from the
pe.

son the bullet,
esk and spoke
. "When Dan-
ff found agun

‘o?”
usulted notes
and nodded

n would soon
before going
waiting the

the ensuing
ik of Beards-
‘oat.

said the ser-
ou think that
th the Jacobs
_ the lieu-
but even be-
ord with the
w that some -

thing was about to happen. Beardsley
Park had memories for him, especially
a particular section of Beardsley Park.
And this spot, though more than a mile
from Yellow Mill hook, was nevertheless
definitely connected with the hook by
several repetitious items out of his years
of police experience.

“Ifello,” he said eagerly. “Hello. Bray
speaking.”

‘Lieutenant?” came back the patrol-
man’s voice, “Look, sir, I was just telling
the sergeant. ... Well, maybe this brown
coat | found doesn’t mean anything, but
—well—I figured I ought to report it,
seeing as how the killer was wearing a
brown suit when he ran out of that gro-
cery store... but I’m afraid, Licutenant,
that even if this is the killer’s coat, as a
clue it won’t be much good, You see, sir,
the pockets are empty and the labels are
all cut out. | found... .”

“You found it at the old quarry,” sup-
plied Bray.

“Right, sir! Under a ledge,” said the
patrolman, his voice full of surprise.
“How'd you know?”

“Never mind for now. Told it where
you are and [ll be out ina moment. Good
work, officer. Good work !”

‘As’ Bray turned from the phone, he
faced Regan, just arrived at headquar-
ters. The captain, too, had been informed
of the Danbury arrests. He was inter-
ested in having a member of the Bridge-
port detective bureau escort the errand
boy witness to Danbury to possibly iden-
tify one of the men in custody as Jacobs’
slayer, He designated Bray as the logical
man to go.

But Bray begged off. “Send Maloney,”
he suggested, “I'll call him and tell him
where the boy lives. But the lad will have
to be back here in a few hours. I’m going
to need him—bad.”

Regan eyed Bray curiously, “What’s
up?” he wanted to know, “Itow is it you
don’t want to go to Danbury—that you
don’t want to be in at the kill?”

“Depending,” smiled the licutenant, “on
where the kill is!”

Then his face grew serious as he told
his chief; “Look, Captain, I] think I’m
on to something that bears out our orig-
inal theory. I don't know for sure, not
yet. Come on and let me work this alone,
my own way, for a couple of hours. If
I’m wrong—well, I'll shuttle back and
forth between here and Danbury until
this thing is straightened out. In the
sens send Maloney with the grocery

oy.”

Maloney went to Danbury, Bray to
Beardsley Park. At noon Maloney called
in, reporting discouragement. The men
arrested by the Danbury police were pos-
itively identified by George Merritt as
the men who held up his Greenwich hab-
erdashery but they did not appear to
have any connection with the sridgeport
murder,

They had a fair alibi for the half hour
between 10 and 10:30 o’clock Saturday
night. They said they were dining in a
Stamford restaurant. Further, the one
gun found on them yielded a test bullet
with ballistics markings entirely different
from the slug removed from the victim’s
body.

But as negative evidence, most con-
vincing of all was the errand boy’s state-
ment: neither of the two suspects was
the man who shot the grocery store
manager.

Regan listened dully to the report over
the phone and then told Maloney to bring
the boy back to Bridgeport. Ile sat
frowning at his desk, drumming idly with
a pencil, when suddenly he heard a great
commotion in the squad room outside his

office door. He peered out and saw Bray.
The lieutenant was not alone—he was
busily engaged in herding into the squad
room a score or more youths, all poorly
dressed and all ranging in age from 16

o 25.

“I suddenly remembered,” the lieuten-
ant remarked cheerily, catching sight of
Regan, “that there are other pool tables
a Bridgeport besides those in pool par-
ors!”

Then, leaving his young charges in the
hands of uniformed officers, Bray drew
Regan back into his office, closed the
door, sat down and explained.

He told of the patrolman finding the
brown coat in Beardsley Park and o
what that discovery meant to him. Ie had
joined the patrolman, and examined the
coat. True, it had been stripped of all
means of ordinary identification, but one
significant item had been overlooked by
its wearer. Bray found dusty bluc marke
ings inside the right hand pocket of the
coat.

“That pocket had recently carried a
piece of blue chalk!

AMERICA IN 1950
IF THE AXIS WINS ..- -

...if you're a Jew, if you're a
Catholic, if you adhere to any re-
ligion whatsoever, the chances are
you'll be dead. For there won't be
any place for you to go, and religion
is a crime in the New Order.

IF AMERICA WINS. .--

...every race, every creed, every
minority will find a new birth of
{reedom—for that’s what our armies
are fighting for. And you ean fight
too—with your purchases of War
Bonds and Stamps!

“You remember,” Bray reminded his
chief, “Beardsley Park? The old quarry
over toward the north side? The place
used to give us a lot of trouble, especially
on Sundays. Crowds of boys and young
men used to congregate there. They used
to play cards and shoot craps. Well, up
until a couple of years ago we had a lot
of complaints, then the complaints died
down.”

Long ago Bray had figured that the
police had failed to stamp out those crap
games. le knew, instead, that the games
had been moved and he had a fair idea
of their more recent locale. Boys from
the Yellow Mill river hook had been the
worst offenders—boys from Hallett
street, Orchard street and the east end
of Bradley avenue,

The quarry games had stopped at the
exact time of the opening of what was
known as an “athletic club” on [lallett
street. This amounted to an unsupef-
vised, unsponsored organization, boy op-
erated, boy financed, which had for a
clubhouse what had formerly been a
vacant store, Its windows were painted
over. Behind those windows, the boy
members—all residents Of the hook sec-
tion—could do as they pleased, Bray de-
plored the situation and yet his efforts
to abolish such “cellar” clubs were futile.

“T’d heard they had a pool table there
at the club,” Bray told Regan, “But for
a while [ forgot about it. Then this morn-
ing | paid them a social call, 1 took a look
at the table, at the chalk used with it. Yes,
it’s the same brand as that found on the
grocery floor. | invited all the Cellar

Club members I could find on the prem-
ises, all those I could round up there in
the Hallett street neighborhood, to—er—
return my call, I brought them down here
to headquarters.”

Regan examined the mutilated brown
coat which Bray produced, the coat found
by the park patrolman. It was not damp.
No dew had touched it. Both officers re-
alized it had not lain near the quarry
long.

The quarry, too, was a familiar place to
the crap-shooting river hook boys and
to many of the members of the club. They
knew its rocks, its crevices, its cliffs and
ledges. To what safer place could a man
go to hide and mutilate a coat and await,
perhaps, the arrival of some pal bringing
him a change of clothes?

Regan cleared his throat. “You think,
Lieutenant, one of those fellows outside .
did this job?”

“PF think one of the Cellar Club mem-
bers did.”

“Do you figure the killer was at the
quarry this morning?”

“1 do, indeed. I think the gunman him-
self waited there for some time. Near
the coat I found several fresh cigaret
butts.”

“But why would he go to the quarry?
Why, if he and the fellow who drove the
getaway car returned to the clubhouse
after the shooting last night, didn’t he
destroy the coat there? Why didn’t he
get some other clothes immediately from
his club member friends?”

“Perhaps he wasn't as frightened at
first as he was later—not until he heard
for certain that Jacobs was dead, Also, it
may be he doesn’t trust everybody at the
club, The way I figure it, he was afraid
we already knew his identity. He was
scared to go home, I'll bet he wandered
around all night after the club closed.
Tl bet he was fearful of approaching his
home until he got something clse to
wear.”

Regan breathed deeply and looked
toward the door. “All right,” he said
finally. “Ilave Kehoe bring them in one at
a time.”

They came in-youths in the toils of
the law—some nervous, some sullen,
some with a chip on their shoulder. Regan
did most of the questioning.

“Were you at the club last night? What
time did you get there? What time did
you leave? During that period were you
absent for even a moment? Who was
there when you arrived? When you left?
Did anyone go out and come back in be-
tween the hours of nine and eleven
o'clock 2?” -

Then he followed up with the matter
of activity. “What did you do at the club?
Did you play pool? Who was playing
pool? When did they start? When did
they stop? Did you see anyone pocket a
piece of cue chalk? At any time durin

the evening was it necessary that af
piece of cue chalk be procured from he
locker?”

Regan was half way through the crowd
Bray had brought jn when the lieutenant,
looking up from the notes he had been
taking, raised his hand, “All right, Cap-
tain, that’s enough, We've ot him. He
isn’t here but FE know him and where he
lives, The process of elimination does it!”

“Phe gunman?”

“Yes, the killer!”

“How about the other guy—the fellow
who drove the car?”

“Well get that out of Spirits.”

“Spirits?”

“That's what his cronics call him—
‘Spirits’ Feltovic, [lis real name is John.
Tle lives on Bradley strect and he’s been
errested several times, usually for loiter-

ing and other minor charges—never any
serious conviction. Wait a minute and Ul

get his file.”

Regan looked at Feltovie’s arrest card
and photograph, “Twenty-one years old,”
he figured from the birth date. “Six feet
tall and weighs 150 pounds, ,. . Oh, yes,
T know him. But he hasn't been in for a
couple of years—not since September,

1927. Sure this is the guy?”

“Listen to this,” Bray replied, quoting
from the notes he’d taken during Regan’s
interrogation of the Cellar Club members.
“One fellow says : ‘I was shooting French
pool with Feltovic until nine-thirty when
he said he had to quit” And another an-
swered: ‘At ten o’clock we had a com-
mittee mecting. All the committee voted
except Ieltovic, But he was somewhere
around; I'd seen him earlier and I saw
him later on. Where was he? Outside, I

guess.’ And another fellow told you: ‘

started shooting pool sometime before
ten, No, I couldn’t find the chalk. I hunted
for it but T couldn’t find it. No, IT didn’t
bother to pet any more out of the cabinet
right then. What difference would it make
to me? My game is lousy—chalk or no

chalk!”

Regan got to his feet, patting his shoul-
der holster. “All right, let’s go. Bradley
street, eh?”

The squad car rolled up and the officers
piled out, Bray knocked on the front door
While Regan went around to the back. A
worricd-lookings woman who described
herself as a relative of Felovie answered
Bray's knock,

“Tn sorry,’
home,”

“Has he been here today?”

“T think so, Timean T don’t know.”

“Was he here last night?”

' “ID can’t tell you,”

she faltered, “he isn’t

The officers retired, but Regan assigned
Garrity and Voccola to wateh the house
By 4in the afternoon there had been no
sign of Feltovic: the waiting officers were
relieved by Sergt. Robert N. Grandfield
and Plainclothes Patrolman Joseph W.

Meaney.

At 6:30 a tall, thin man showed up. He
was wearing’a gray felt hat, a gray top-
coat over brown trousers and a black
sweater. As the man started for the house,
the officers pounced. They had him, He

was Feltovic,

Back at headquarters, under question-
ing by Regan and Bray, Feltovic denied
any knowledge of the murder. He claimed
that at 10 o’clock the night before he was
still in the Cellar Club, that he had not
left the clubhouse once during the whole

evening.

Shown . the
Beardsley Park, and
matched exactly the very pants he was
wearing, Feltovic admitted the similarity
but tried to stall the officers with a story
of having had the coat to his trousers
stolen from him several days before.

But later Sunday night, when faced by
the errand boy from the grocery who
shricked, “That’s him! That’s the guy
who shot Mr. Jacobs!” Feltovic’s con-
trary demeanor cracked and he confessed,

“T did it,” he wept. “I shot the srrocery
uy because T wanted money, But after
I shot him TP got seared, [ coulda’t make
it to the cash register,”

“Who helped you?” Bray asked. “Who
brought you these clothes?”

Ieltovic’s head hung low. He was silent.

“Come on,” Regan argued. “What are
you going to be—a sucker? Take the rap
all by yourself?”

Ieltovic was still quiet.

“Who drove the car? Who took you

brown coat found in
shown how it

hack to the club? Who was in this thing

with you?”

Under relentless questioning, Feltovie
told all. His companion was 19-year-old
Frank Sanderson of the 500 block in
Berkshire avenue. It had been Sander-
himself
admitted planning the crime, inviting San-
derson to accompany him and securing
the weapon and ammunition used, Fel-
tovic entered the store and fired the shot
but it was Sanderson who later disposed

son’s car, although Feltovic

of the gun at Feltovic’s request,

McCullough and Garrity soon picked
up Sanderson. Once shown that Feltovic
corroborated the
killer’s story and led Regan to the brook
into which he had thrown leltovic’s ,32-

had confessed, he

caliber revolver,

Both men were indicted for first degree
murder but their trials were scheduled
Separately. In May, 1929, Feltovic was
tried in Fairfield county superior court,

Bridgeport, with Sanderson appearing as
state’s witness against him,

Ieltovic was found guilty as charged.
Judge Isaac Wolfe sentenced him to
death. Several months later. his appeal
was heard but the higher court affirmed
the conviction, On the morning of Dec.
10 Feltovic was hanged at Wethersfield
penitentiary, ‘

That same afternoon the murder indict -
Ment against Sanderson was nol prossed,
Because of his youth and because of his
assistance to the state in securings Pel
tovie’s conviction, Sanderson was allowed
to plead guilty to a charge. of robbery
with violence. Tle was sentenced to a
prison term of from 7 to 10 years,

(The name Prank Sanderson as used in this story
ts fictitions inasmuch as the man so designated
served a. short term for his part in the crime and
was subsequently released from prison.—Ed,)

Cargo of Death

[Continued from page 21]

Greening’s next call was to Acting Chief
of Detectives Jeremiah O'Connell in St.
Louis. He informed him. of what had
happened and asked him to check on the
movements of Mr. and Mrs. Nash in St.
Louis Monday night and conduct an in-
vestigation into a possible motive from
that end.

“From here it looks like robbery,”
Greening told him, explaining the missing
diamonds and money. “So far, we haven't
the slightest idea as to the identity of the
killer,”

(Connell promised to put several of his
best men on the case at once.

Greening rejoined O’Conner and Fiel-
son. The three went to the prosecutor's
office in the Sangamon county courthouse,
It was well past midnight and news of the
dual-killing had spread like wildfire. For
several hours the officers had been he-
sieved by reporters, photographers ane
curiosity seckers.

In the courthouse they found city and
county officers busy answering phones.
Interested citizens Were already calling
in various leads and tips and each of these
Was patiently investigated.

The three men conferred briefly before
disbanding for the night. Greening
glanced from one to the other of his com-
panions, “We've a variety of clues which
may or may not give us some help. First,
the note we found on the windshield. It’s
my guess the killer—or at least one of
them—wrote that note.”

“The note will be clinching evidence,”
O’Connor observed. “But we have to
catch the killer before we can compare
his handwriting.”

Greening agreed. “Even so, it’s a valu-
able clue.”

O'Connor conceded this point—as Ficl-
son spoke up. “The bloody fingerprint on
the scrap of paper will he clinching evi-
dence, too. But there, again, we'll have
to find a suspect before the clue will he
of any use. What we want now is some
Way of trailing down suspects. | sugeest
we broadcast a description of the nlissing
seat cover, That may bring us the break
we're looking for.”

Greening and O'Connor agreed, Green-
ing decided that he was going to stay in
his office throughout the night to keep in
touch with St. Louis police.

(Connor and Eielson arose. O'Connor
said: “Min hoping My men will have
something for you in the morning. They’re
working Highway 66.”

A) few hours later, Detective Chief
O'Connell called Greening to inform him
that Charles Nash was an internal reve-
nue avent.

“Perhaps there’s a revenue
then,” Greening suggested.

“Tin taking that up with the head of
the bureau here the first thing in the
morning,” O'Connell replied.

“Tlave you succeeded in tracing the
movements of Mr. and Mrs. Nash?” asked
the state's attorney,

angle,

2 RIS ees. aerated la

“Yes. We questioned employes of the
restaurant on Watson Road. One of the
waitress said she remembered the couple
being there, that they left shortly after
eleven o'clock,”

“Anyone with them?”

“No, they were alone. She did tell us
something that may be of help, however,
She said Nash made a telephone call be-
fore he and his wife left. She further
stated that when Nash came back to the
table he told his wife, ‘We have time to
rat,’ indicating that they were to meet
somcone later, We're trying to trace that
call now.”

“T don’t suppose you've uncovered any
personal enemies,” Greening continued.

O'Connell paused, then replied: “Their
son could account for none. The neigh-
bors we've questioned tell us everyone
liked the couple and that they were highly
respected in all circles.”

Greening replaced the receiver -and
glanced out the office window. The
black night sky was turning gray with
approaching dawn. Seemingly, the night’s
intensive work had not furthered the in-

vestigation of the crime.

Although the robbery motive loomed
large in the Prosecutor’s deductions, there
were several unexplainable angles. Tow,
for instance, would a chance holdup
artist have known where to find the small
ax Robert Nash said he carried in his
car?

It all appeared as if the murderer had

known the vic!
lay identificeat:
why had he o
tlad Mr,
murderer righ
rant? Or had:
and picked uy
60? .

Question {

none could be

Greening \
rest. A few h
office to find :
move was to
topsy report
MacDonald, |
agreed with |
the couple h

“The wom.
her life,” the
more than th
and body. S'!

“How abo
ing.

“Tle was b

“Think he

“Most cer

“Any clue
wounds?" as

Dragoo ce
shoes were
feet as if s!
lawn trying

“And the

“He was ¢
in the car.”

“Was thre
Since they 5
grabbed att

Drageoo ps
straight blon

O'Connor
operator of
where the
O'Connor s:
who had Sei
seems to g1\

The state
when he ha:

“Tt was hb
o'clock yest
the coupe =

“And dic
enough to «
The man
and examin
raised the |
he put the
along the c:
to see if it)
“He star
highway to
thirty or f
any more ¢

“But you
Greening 4
Oh, ves
for that. I \
yards from
seven inch:
one-hu..dre
top coat a:
mid-twenti
do.”

“And t!
complimen
look prosp:

The wit
about aver

O’Conn
motorists
Pontiac bu
highway p
chase to t’
abandoned
portant as
over his t

As the:
hauler ent

Dee MIRE 8

®RAZIER, Isaac,| executed Conntbeticut, 9=

Thiers Vol. XXV

‘k in Waterbury heard no
vunty courts were respon-
ions occurring in the state,
’ much about the criminal
that reached this jurisdic-
‘ result of the 1703 statute
ions on the justices’ court
‘rt. But of course this was
is and assaults, and all the
ordingly, little meaning to
nication cases to the more
that came into the county

‘Ss defined in Connecticut
issault, defamation, and to
ies but as grounds for civil
fenses—serious crimes of
mv, and some offenses like
penalty was especially
r Court. That leaves a third
contribution of the county
‘ting, major theft, horse-
st ry penalities were a
if @ ng, disfigurement,
ath.”4 It is evident
e C.2S Were considered a
oral and religious offenses,
e been.
ic Superior Court was even
‘er year for the entire state
‘kept in mind that in speak-
‘tenses for which civil dam-
of these cases are for coun-
1 throughout the eighteenth
ccially felt during economi-
inprising is the fact that the

om both jurisdictions (probably an
ourt records are preserved), one
‘11ou Case twice—once at the taking
. when the charge is duly recorded

discussed in detail below, text sur-

period covered in William Samuel
«Vill.

ounterfeiting (as well as for major
\pposed to be brought first in the

A — =" — ah <t SF Fw TERS BOT, yh TRG BREN OSB ye ppaty Psaehs..,
la a age ami en Rc, te a i A Mai a a ea

#1768,

198] CRIMINAL LAW IN I8TH CENTURY CONNECTICUT 329

Connecticut General Assembly (the state legislature, which until
1806 also served as the court of final appeal) heard at least thirty
cases based on writs of error in prosecutions for counterfeiting be-
tween 1756 and 1773.77 When the law against counterfeiting was
revised in 1770,’8 the provisions from prior laws for corporal
punishment were retained”: an offender could be branded with a C
and have his right ear cut off. (There is abundant evidence that these
punishments were actually carried out.8°) A prison term of six
months was also provided, but with the development of Newgate
prison the term was soon expanded to a maximum of twenty years.*!

Before the Revolution, theft and burglary prosecutions, as
Flaherty notes,*? were rarely started in the Superior Court and are
represented by only a handful of examples. The remaining offenses
of murder, incest, sodomy, rape, and the other crimes of violence
are also seldom found in the Superior Court, one presumes because
they were in fact fairly rare occurrences. It is surprising to find a
case of blasphemy dealt with on this grave level, and indeed the
General Assembly revealed its own surprise by granting the commu-
tation petition of one defendant who claimed to be the first person
sentenced to death under a blasphemy law dating back to the earliest
days of colonial settlement.** The petition also asserted that Connec-
ticut was the only colony to retain the death penalty for blasphemy.
In place of the death sentence, the Assembly substituted the penalty
of one hour in the pillory and a bond for good behavior. It is interest-
ing to compare a later petition for commutation of a death sentence
for burglary. Here too the petitioner claimed to be the first person
actually sentenced to die for the offense, but the Assembly was not
moved and denied the petition.*4

77. This figure is my own count from an examination of the volumes of Col. Rec.
Conn.

78. 1 Crimes & Misdemeanors V:414 (1770). This source, a set of manuscript
materials related to criminal law, is part of the Archive holdings in Hartford. supra
note 28 [hereinafter cited as C & M}.

79. 1C & M III:156, 158a (1732). The first Connecticut statute against counterfeit-
ing dates from 1710. 4 Col. Rec. Conn. 158.

80. E.g., Rex v. Edward Williams, 1.C & M V:399 (1772).

81. 1C & M VI:350 (1773),

82. Flaherty, supra note 65.

83. Petition of John Green of New London, 1 C & M IV:164-166 (1752).

84. Petition of Isaac Frazier of New Haven, 1C & M V:261 (1768). The execution
is confirmed in the Connecticut Courant, September 12, 1768, p. 3. The law under
which Frazier was condemned prescribed the death penalty for the third offense. 1 C
& M IV:6 (1735). If Frazier was the only person to die under this law, he may have
supplied unique provocation: the records also show a petition to the General Assem-

bly by one John Camp, a jailor, for £30 expenses to rebuild the Fairfield jail after it
was burned down by the prisoner Isaac Frazier, 1 C & M VI:25 (1774).

"Murder On The Fourth Of July

. (continued from page 53)

mon descended on the Clinton Street
apartment, and with brutal candor
confronted Helen Korzinski with all
of what they learned concerning her

love affair with Herman, and much of :

what they suspected about the man-
ner in which her husband had been
murdered.

The woman went into an admira-
ble act. She displayed shock, resent-
ment and outrage at the detectives’
charges and finally took refuge in
moans and sobs. But she would admit
to nothing. Herman had been only a
roomer—and nothing more. She had
never even touched him. Her.husband
had never had cause to be jealous of
anyone. She had not seen Herman in

_ nine months and had no idea of where

he was.

In exasperation, Amold for the
time being gave up his interrogation
and told Simon: Take a good look
through that trunk. Maybe something
in it will give use a lead to where this
Herman lives.

While ‘the captain and Helen
Korzinski sat regarding each other in
silence, Simon headed for the guest
room. He re-appeared a few minutes
later and told the captain in a low
voice:

“There’s nothing like an address in
that trunk, but it’s a sure thing it
hasn’t been sitting here very long. On
the bottom, for a lining, I found a
page from the Bridgeport Star of Sat-
urday, June 30. That’s only ten days
ago and doesn’t jibe at all with the
time Helen Korzinski gave for the de-
parture of the roomer who had left his
trunk behind.”

« Now the. presence of the trunk in
the apartment seemed to have an ex-
planation considerably more sinister
than the ingenuous one Helen had of-
fered. Obviously, the piece: of lug-
gage had reached Clinton Street only
shortly before Korzinski was mur-
dered.

Suppose, the detectives asked
themselves, the two had planned to
get rid of Korzinski and then go away
together? Having killed the husband,
Herman might very well want to get
clear of Bridgeport, but fast, and
without any excess baggage. For the
sake of appearances, Helen would
have to let a decent interval elapse be-
fore joining him. But after that inter-

val, she could easily ship his trunk,
along with her own baggage, to
wherever she was to meet her lover.

After . talking over their next
moves, the officers went their sepa-
rate ways. Captain Arnold took He-
len Korzinski to headquarters for fur-
ther questioning and for booking on a
charge of suspicion of murder. Simon
had other fish to fry. He set out to»
canvass local cartage companies in,
the hope of locating a man who had
brought Alexander Herman’s trunk
to the Korzinski apartment.

For the rest of the afternoon, Simon

kept at it, with no success, but on the
following morning, he found what
he was after when he talked with
Murray Gelb, owner of the Excel
Hauling Company.
. “Yes,” Gelb recalled, “I moved a
trunk to Clinton Street recently. I
think it was last Tuesday. Wait a
minute, I’ll check ‘my records.” Gelb
fumbled through a cardboard file la-
beled “Letters,” and finally came up
with a piece of paper. “Here we are,”
he continued. “This is the order. A
trunk went to Mrs. Helen Korzinski,
19 Clinton Street, on July 3. The in-
structions were to deliver it after nine
and before five.”

“Where did you pick it up?” Simon
asked.

“At 46 Spruce Street—from a Mr.
Alexander Herman.”

The Spruce Street address, Detec-
tive Simon soon learned, was a room-
ing house, run by an amiable woman
named Althea Jurist, and what she
told the detective caused him no sur-
prise. Alexander Herman, a short,
stocky man, who often wore a tan
cap, had lived at her house for several
months, but was no longer a resident
there. “He gave up his room on the
Fourth of July and I haven’t seen him
since. No, there was no forwarding
address.”

Simon returned to headquarters,
and told Captain Arnold of what he
had learned during the day. Follow-
ing. their talk, Helen Korzinski was
brought from her cell to the captain’s
office and confronted with Simon’s
irrefutable evidence of how she had
lied in the matter of the trunk. But still
she entered blanket denials to the offi-
cers’ accusations, and insisted she had
no idea of Herman’s present wherea-

bouts. After a fruitless half hour with
her, Captain Arnold ordered her re-
turned to jail.

The problem was of course to lo-
cate Alexander Herman. That he
was not in Bridgeport seemed a vir-
tual certainty. But where was he?
After discussing ways and means, the
two detectives left headquarters. and
headed for the post office.

There was a chance, they felt, that
the wanted man might have written
to his paramour, and, although no evi-
dence of such a communication had
resulted from a search of Helen
Korzinski’s person or her apartment,
the postman for her building might
have some information. The postal
authorities told them where Abner
Hill, the postman concerned, could be
located, and twenty minutes later the
officers were in a conversation with
him.

Hill was a veteran of twenty years’
service in the department, and had ac-
quired that particular kind of postal
memory which seems to take at least
a couple of decades to perfect. He
was immediately helpful to the detec-
tives.

“Oh, yes, the Korzinskis” he re-
called. “The fellow that was shot.
Now let’s see. ...Quite a bit of mail
for her since it happened. Local stuff.
Friends writing to say they were sor-
ry, I figured.”

“Anything from out of town?” Ar-
nold asked.

“Yep—one letter. Looked like a

man’s writing. Seems to me, I deliv-
ered it last Friday or Saturday. Now I
can’t:tell you what town it was from
but it was some place in New Jer-
sey.”
What Hill had to say represented
progress—up to a point. There was
still the question of whether the mis-
sive he referred to had been sent by
Herman and, if so, where in. New
Jersey it had been mailed. In view of
their estimate of Helen Korzinski’s
character, both officers thought that in
all probability, if the letter was from
her lover, she had destroyed it. But
there was an outside chance that she
had not.

Arnold and Simon called again at
the Korzinski building and this time
spoke to the janitor. “Trash?” the jani-
tor repeated their question. “Sure,
I’ve got a couple of barrelsful here in
the cellar. Right over there,” he added

(continued on next page)

—

a a a a a ee ee ee eee)

Tren NS NA Oe on 7 a le a a

or AA

pointing.

For two hours, the detectives were
up to their elbows in the accumulated
contents from the building’s waste
baskets. Finally, one of the barrels
yielded a reward for their painstaking
work, when Simon fished out frag-
ments of a sheet of paper and an enve-
lope addressed to Helen Korzinski.
The envelope was postmarked Eliza-
beth, N.J. The message, however,
when pieced together was not so im-
mediately revealing, for it was writ-
ten in Polish. But Simon, who could
read and write the language, was
able to provide Arnold with this
translation:

Dearest Helen:

I am all right and I hope you are,
too. I think we are safe, but I will not
write you again for many weeks. We

must go slowly. Remember what I

have told you and there will be no
trouble. All my love. A.

To the detectives’ disappointment,
neither message nor envelope con-
tained a return address. The next
move was obvious: Go to Elizabeth
and flush out Alexander Herman.

Detective Simon reached Elizabeth
before noon the following day—
Wednesday, July 11. After informing
the local police of his mission, he
took a hotel room and immediately
went to work. His task turned out to
be time consuming and one that re-
quired infinite patience.

The technique of his quest was
based on two essential propositions.
If Herman were in Elizabeth, he had
to have a place to live; and, since
there was no reason to believe he had

much money, he must be working.
Simon, therefore, began a systematic
survey of all likely dwelling places
for such a man—and all possible
places of employment.

For 12 and 14 hours a day, the
Bridgeport officer trudged the pave-
ments, sometimes accompanied by an
Elizabeth detective, and sometimes
alone. He began to feel he could con-

struct a definite map of the town. A‘

week passed, then a second one. The
break came on July 25.

On that morning, Simon entered the
offices of the Union County Hay,
Grain & Feed Company, and asked

the office manager his usual question

about new employes.

“We’ve only taken on one new
man recently,” the manager declared.
“His name’s Jack Smith. He walked

in here the Monday after the Fourth of
July and asked for a job. It happened
that one of our drivers had quit the
previous Saturday, and J hired Smith.
He’s never said much about himself
but then I gather he’s from some other
city.”

And what does he look like?”

“On the short side and stocky—but
he’s powerful. You ought to see him
toss those bales around.”

Jack Smith, Simon was told, was
out making deliveries, but was ex-
pected back for the noon lunch hour.
Simon waited. At five minutes past
twelve, a wagon, pulled by a team-
of-four and driven by a short, stocky
man wearing a tan cap, rolled up to
the warehouse loading platform. As
the driver got to the ground, Simon,
flanked by Elizabeth Detective Walter
Brandes, stepped up to him. Smith’s
eyes, seeking and alert, darted across
their faces and his body stiffened.

“You say your name’ s Smith?” Si-
mon asked.

The man nodded.

“You wouldn’t be from Bridgeport
and a friend of Helen Korzinski
would you?”

What Smith’s sudden pallor did not

betray, his voice did, as he blurted
out: “I don’t know what you’re talk-
ing about. I’ve never been in Bridge-

port.” Simon recognized an unmistak- ~

able tinge of a Polish accent in his
tone. “You’re under arrest,” the de-
tective told him. “You’re wanted for
murder.”

The formalities “of extradition
were completed the following day,
and by the evening of July 26, Alex-
ander Herman, alias Jack Smith, was
in the Fairfield County jail at Bridge-
port. The next morning, he was pos-
itively identified by Mrs. Wilson, of
Railroad Avenue, as the man she had
assumed to be Mrs. Korzinski’s hus-
band and by Mrs. Andersen and Mrs.:
Irvin as the man they had seen loi-
tering in Clinton Street on the night of
the murder.

But Alexander Herman did not in-
tend to make the police job easy. He
adopted an attitude and clung to it. He
denied everything possibly incrimi-
nating and admitted nothing. Acting
in concert (and in the police opinion,
by pre-arrangement) Helen Korzinski,
still in jail, clung to her denials of
adultery with Herman and of any

(continued on page 57)

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_ Murder On The Fourth Of July

(continued from page 55)

fore-knowledge of her husband’s
murder.

Nevertheless, Prosecuting Attorney
John S. Pullman filed an information
before a magistrate against the pair,
and they were committed to be tried
during the November court term. Her-
man was charged with murder in the
first degree; Helen Korzinski with be-
ing an accessory to murder in the first
degree.

Late in August, after thoroughly
sifting the data in the case, Prosecutor
Pullman, in a worried frame of mind,
called on Captain Arnold.

“I have no doubt,” he said, “that
Herman killed Korzinski. Nor do I
think you have. But the problem is to
convince a jury. The evidence is all
circumstantial and I am not sure if it
will stick. What we need is a confes-
sion or its equivalent. Any ideas?”

Arnold called in Detective Simon
and the three went into a huddle,
from which emerged a plan. That af-
ternoon, a cell block in the county jail
was cleared. Herman and Helen
Korzinski, who had been incarcer-
ated in cubicles remote from each oth-
er, were brought to the cleared tier
and placed in cells separated only by
one which contained a dirty, whisky-
smelling tramp deep in an alcoholic
stupor.

By looking through their bars, Her-
man and Helen could see each other—
for the first time since the murder.
The effect was electric. Aside from
the squalid drunk in the intervening
cell, no prying ears could hear their
voices. They began to speak, in Pol-
ish.

First, there ‘were tender endear-
ments, and when these were over,
they began to discuss their plight.
They talked for a half hour, giving
each other heart. But in the doing, the
words nakedly revealed that Alexan-
der Herman had shot Korzinski to
gain the man’s wife. And in the inter-
vening cell, Detective Simon, a man
of many talents, now disguised as a
drunk, furtively took stenographic
notes of their conversation.

On November 8, Alexander Her-
man came to trial before Judge Alber-
to Roroback. Prosecutor Pullman pre-
sented an integrated case, climaxed
by the appearance in the witness
stand of Detective Simon, who read

to the jury the transcript of the fateful
conversation he had overheard be-
tween the defendant and Helen
Korzinski in the county jail, when
they thought they could speak freely
to each other.

It was utterly damning’ evidence
and the verdict was a foregone con-
clusion. After the jury foreman pro-
nounced the single word “Guilty,”
Judge Roroback sentenced Herman to
die. On the following May 17 he was
hanged at Wethersfield Prison.

Helen Korzinski was luckier.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind.

that she had been Herman’s mistress
and that, because of her, he had been
moved to his desperate act. But in the
realm of legal necessity, the charge of

accessory was shaky. For while the
conversation Simon had taken down .
definitely proved, out of Herman’s
mouth, that he had killed, much else
in it tended to show that, at worst)
Helen had stood by passively, and, at
best, had pleaded against the deed.

It was a case, in part, of her being
unable to control the passions she had
‘evoked in her lover’s heart. More-
over, she was a woman, and the law
sometimes stretched a point in favor
of the so-called weaker sex. In view
of her sex and the weakness of their
case, the prosecuting authorities com-
promised.

If Helen could not be convicted, at
least she could be denied the priv-
ileges of the country which had
treated her so well. The charges
against her were dropped and, since
she had never become a citizen, she
was sent back toher native land. & -

Parolee Had Murder On His Mind

(continued from page 7)

fendant had not put in an appearance.
At the time he was scheduled for the
court hearing, he was engaged in a
bloody rampage of kidnapping, rape
and murder.

The call in to the 911 emergency
number. at 5:03 a.m. was from-a
woman reporting a burglary in pro-
gress. She said she heard someone
breaking into the garage at her home:
to steal her car. The dispatcher had
just gotten the address when the
phone went dead.

Deputies sped out to Clinton Ave-
nue near the Chatfield Reservoir out-
side Littleton. It was a typical mid-
dle-class subdivision with basketball
hoops over the garage doors and
Swingsets in backyards.

They found the front door of the
house open and the woman and her
car missing. Neighbors gave them her
name as Beverly Swartz and said her

husband worked as a gardener for a

IFT ES =F TT TIT AMI TN TET TTT TT oo

eee

local brewery. :

Deputies called him and he hurried
home, gave them the license of the
missing silver Volvo and said he had
no idea who could have kidnapped
his wife or for what reason. Deputies
called in the information to be broad-
cast for an alert for the woman, her
car and the kidnapper. The woman’s
husband called his father, who lived
at Sunshine Acres, to tell him that his
wife had been abducted. His father

said he would come over right away.

The husband of the missing wom-
an told the deputies that he and his
wife had recently moved to Colorado
from a farm in Kansas to be near his
parents. They had no children and
their only friends were neighbors.

The father-in-law of. the missing
woman was en route to his son’s
home when he spotted his daughter-
in-law’s silver Volvo and followed it
back to his home in Sunshine Acres,

He called his son some time later to
say, “Something terrible has hap-
pened. Your Mom’s been shot’ and
your wife is dead.”

Arapahoe County deputies raced
out to Sunshine Acres, a peaceful de-
velopment with homes built on acre
plots and where the only disturbance
was the breying of a mule. ' i

The blood-covered elderly man met
the deputies at the door. His 64-year-
old wife Janice, tied hands and feet
sitting in a chair, had been shot in the
head and chest. Beverly Swartz was
in the basement. She had been tied
with rope and also shot in the head
and chest.

The husband and father-in-law of
the victims recounted what hap-.
pened,

He said after following his daugh-
ter-in law’s Volvo to his home, when
he got out of his car, a man pointed a

(continued on page 59)

HERTLEIN, Kaspar,

HERTLEIN BANGED
His iat ole on the’

“.

‘SWUNG IN THE AIR AT

Murder of Louise Trebbe
Avenged.

The Murdcrer Mung for 18 Minutes
Refore Lifo Was Pronounced Ex-
tinct -by the Doctors~Was Confl-

-« dent and Said, “All Right, Warden,
JAm Ready.” ;
--+¥aspar Hertleln was hanged at the:
,, State prison: at. 32:26 o'clock this. morn. :
ing for the murder of Toulse Trebbe of |

South Manchester on February 29, 1896.

It- was done In twenty seconds after the

machinery. of the automatic gallows was

started, and the man hyping for eighteen
minutes before life was pronounced ex-

-tihet. After he was taken down the,
Goctors made an examination and found

that his neck had been broken by the _

xallows, |

“operation of the

my: Final-Yreparationd,
.- Just before midnight, Warden Wood- ,
bridge began the fina: preparations for
the hanging, by plating keepers on.
guard as follows: L. M. Horton, acting |
deputy in guard room; C. L. Whitmore,
guard room door; W. E. DeBlols, front
giurd houwe-S-K Uptca, gate entrance
to back yard; H. Risley, back gate; A.
Hawt, front gate to prison; P.-J. Dough-
erty, James Carter and Scott Man-
chester, towers-on wall; R. Iu. Fulton,
irgide -guard; P. J. Allen, office door-
keeper. John F. Riley was stationed at
the telephone anu Heury Hulmes at the
door of the warden’s house. The reat
of the officers not otherwise oceupied
remained on duty in the guard room,
ucder the command of L. M. Ho-ton,
acting deputy warden.

noudIng the Death Warant,

At midnight, just as soon as the ad-
vent of Thursday, the day 0% execution,
was announced through the ward2n
consulting his watch, the proces3ion was

formed which was to escort Warden
Woodbriige when he read the geath
warrant to Hertlein. In the procession
sere the following: Warden Wood-
‘bridge, with the death, warrant from
the superior court: in-his pocket; Daputy
; Warden” Baisden, Prison Direc-ozs.
James W. Cheney of South Manchester,
Thomas Dudley Wells At Waterbury,
Prank C, Sumner of ‘Hartford, Kae,
/ mund E, Crowe of Norwalk, ‘Wilson €71
: Reynolds of East Haddam; Dr. ‘Jaines
Campbell of this city, chairman of the
board of health; Dr. M. 8. Bradley and
| Dr. Thomas H. Weldon of Manchester:
| Prison Surgeon Edward G. Fox, and
' the tev. Nicholas Schneider cf New
Britafn and the Rev. John T. Lynch of
this city, the condemned man’s spiritual
advisers, They. marched into the cel!-
room, where Werden Woodbridge read
the death warrant. They then re-
turhed tothe prisdn office, leaving the
two prie Si, with the conden:ned man
to administer the last rites of the
church. They were alone except for
the presence of the tw) death watch-
men on duty at wight, C. A. Monroe
and Wood. Ellsworth.. Drs. Campbell.
Bradley ard Weldou: were present upon
the ‘invitetion of Hertlein. They per-
aa the autupsy on tne body of his
victin. * Pa

Va ewe Deol. wow very Aha Aracened whaen

with hin hands hanging In front of his

~ Night-Watchmen Monroe, snd -Elle-

. reathed ~ the
~ Ellsworth

‘. bridge ~ pressed

- At12:15 o'clock the priests nofified

———— ~T
war’ up and dressed when

ferticin
a the cage and stood

the party reached

body, while the warrant war read, de-

clining the warden's 4nvitation to be

seated. Vi e
Procession to Fxedutlou Room.

Warden Woodbridge that thay had fin-
ished thelr ministrations and the pro-
cession was re-formed for the hanging.

Warden Woodbridge led, with Deputy
Warden Balsden, Sheriff Smith, the
five prison directors, Prison Surgeon
Fos, Keeper Doolittle. and the “three
doctors. Then followed Asst&tant Dep-
uly arden Perkins and nine news-
paper*men. The warden and his party
passed into the-cage-room and the.
newspaper men, with Assistant Deputy
Perkins entered the’ execution house.
Perkins placed his foot upon thé sfop}
lever so that by-no accident.could the
amachinery. be set in operation,
and the newspaper men took places
around the room facing the door of the
cell room, which was closed. E. W.
Giddings, chief engineer of the-prtson,
stood In the enclosure.of the machinery
ready to lower the noose, which hung
“ebout.cight feet from the floor. ty’
_* Tho Manging. - <

As the warden and party approached
_the-cage -Hertiein came out and D¢epu
Warden Baisden strapped his arms
déwn to the sides ef his body. Then

Warden Woodbridge said: Kaspar, your
time has come,” .

“All right, warden, I am ready,” was
Hertlein’s prompt, almost cheerful, re-

we 8

eponse and the warden passed into the,

execution room and relieved Perkins at
the level. At the #kme time‘the pro-
ceasion emerged from the cage room,
the door being thrown open at precisely
12:25 o'clock, the two priests, the Rey.
Nicholas Schnelder and the Rev. John
T. -bynch leading and intoning the
prayers for the dying. Deputy Warden
Batsden and Keeper Doolittle. followed
on eitliér aide of Hertlein, who: watked
rather unsteadily for the first few steps
of the ten feet to the plate. Prison
Surgeon Fox, Drs. Campbell, Bradley
and Weldon followed and then. came
. worth. As svon as Hertletrr
“plate, “Moree » ands
took position beside the
wooden chair provided in case the mur-
derer should weaken and Doolittle
ightly strapped his legs at the hips
and at the ankles, while Deputy Bais-
den: pulled .down the black -cap over
his -head and took hold of the noose

whith had been lowered by Engineer}

_ Giddings slackened up he rope. Dep-
uty Baisden deftly arranged the noose

with the knot under the left ear and}.
raised his left hand as the signal that

everything wae reidy.: Twenty sects)
ends had elapzed after the machinery
began to operate when ‘Warden Woogr

the

lever . which}

)

~ apne rm Am a oe

eT AiR NERS

se hs Aegan pratense

OAR rene DEA ee 879

ethnteneioniaen

| MOVING?
|) DONT -
|) _ FORGET

~ YOUR MAIL,

-. A month before you move;
pick up a free Change of
Address Kit from your Post

\ Office or letter carrier. 1
Mail the cards to ,:

your bank, charge‘
accounts. Everyone.

this it wilt
yornsauaepiacen

bridge on a key road leading to West
Haven and New Haven.’

Maher led Mix and Tuttle to the rear of
the house where the two newcomers
studied the bloody shambles. Then
Maher paused by the open cellar bul-
khead and directed the beam of his flash-
light down the cellar stairs. The men
caught a glimpse of Mrs. Chernock’s

—e-~ body lying at the foot of the’

Stairs.
bag.

The coroner climbed down and set to
work. Death had not been caused by a
fall. The woman's head bore 32 wounds
and her breasts were cut to the ribs. The
killing was brutal and deliberate. A
bloodstained shoe last, used back in the
days when shoes were manufactured in
the home, lay nearby -— the apparent
death weapon. The two officials, har-
dened by years of experience, were sick-
ened by the viciousness of the crime.

They soon found out that the killer had
covered his tracks well.. There were no
apparent clues, although Tuttle thought it
was significant that the killer was
masked. Possibly the killer was known to”
the family or had a disfiguring mark.

Accordingly, he questioned Logan and
Linsley closely about the man. They
could add little to what they had already
reported to the Milford police, namely
that he was a man of medium height and
powerfully built. He wore a-dark brown
overcoat and a black-and-white check-
ered cap. This description was broadcast
throughout Connecticut.

The coroner reported that the woman
had been beaten to death with the steel
cobbler’s standard. Further details would
come pending the autopsy report from
Medical Examiner M.M. Scarbrough.
There was no evidence of criminal as-

he was half covered by a burlap

. Sault, Yet, why so much viciousness in

what was apparently just a robbery?
Detective Tuttle asked Superintendent
Maher where the woman's husband was
at the time of the attack.
**At work,"’ the superintendent re-
plied. *‘He holds a responsible position at

‘the Columbia Gramophone Company. I

was able to reach him a few minutes ago
and he is on his way home right now.
Incidentally and before I forget, there's
one clue which Officer Hibbard found in
the woods where he lost track of the man.
I'll go out and get it."

As Maher opened the door, two chil-
dren came in. They were obviously dis-
turbed by all the excitement and were
surprised to see strangers in their house.

**Where's mother?” they asked in un-
ison.

ze f-*)

<> bed sf

&
rove
i
@
co
(—]
S.
@
ass
f= of
=
oD

PRS cf ee

Maher found it hard to reply: He
cleared his throat and then answered ing
gruff voice. **She had to go away, ba
your father's due any minute, When
have you children been?" va

“We went over to see some friends,
Usually mother comes over for us bet
tonight she didn‘t."” “a eS

Maher put the children in the care of
neighbor. Then he went out and returned
from the patrol wagon with the blood»
tained clue discovered earlier by Hibban
and Logan. He spread it before Tuttleos
the kitchen table. *

A second interruption postponed e¢
amination of the clue. The sound of gus
fire came to their ears and the two mea
rushed to the door. A man shouted. The
was followed by three pistol shots firedia

Posse to close in. %
‘That was in the direction of the West
Haven bridge,’* Maher. observed,
“That's Captain Fowler.” 2
kk RR oa

After Fowler left the Chernock home,
he drove straight to the bridge whert
there was still sufficient daylight to keeps
close watch. It was bitter cold and ht
walked briskly back and forth trying @
keep warm. After a while, he leaned over
the rail and studied the landscape cate
fully. Suddenly. what he had taken fors
rock below came to life. It crept slowy
into the open. Then the form crossed tht
tracks and rose to its height. It was a mat
in a long dark overcoat.

Fowler drew his gun and ordered the
figure to stop. The man leaped from the
railroad embankment and started acrosss
field on the opposite side of the track
The captain climbed down to the tracks.

“Halt or I'll fire,’ he warned. —

The man increased his speed, headitg
for the woods. Fowler pressed the ing
ger. Then he started in pursuit, fired aga*
and again at the running form. The &®
tance betwen the two men rapidly ke
sened and Fowler pulled the trigger aga
There was a click. The gun was empty

The man in the overcoat looked
over his shoulder and instantly u
stood the situation. He stopped and drew
a gun from his pocket. He took car
aim as Fowler knelt to reload, expecting
fatal blast. When he rose, the fugitive had
vanished, leaving tracks behind in t®
spow.

Fowler was now joined by a member
the posse who had been checking
woods opposite the Chernock house

hal eee

became separated from his companiow, 7

(continued on next page) Bis

; Tre two men followed the footprints into,

#e woods to a point where they turned

tified it as his wife’s and said that it had
,’ contained three or four dollars when he

geardsa dark recess that led inthe direc- ¥ left for work that morning.

ge of West Haven. Daylight was now
and the captain turned on his elec-.
yxtorch. He told his companion to wait;

twging branches from trees had kept the
- gwnd free of sleet and snow, and the;
ints vanished. As Fowler was

* gout to turn in dismay, his flashlight

gught.the edge of a thick, bulky mass.
ike tumed the light full on it and then
geved swiftly ahead.
~ htwas the long, dark overcoat worn by
fe stranger. The fugitive had discarded it
& his haste. Fowler checked ahead for
aMifional footprints. There were none,
whe picked up the coat and then fired

“eutes a.hundred additional men were
dembing every foot around the hill. After
whour, they found that the killer had
included them,
, The captain turned the coat over to
i er Mix and continued the search.
Tuttle and Maher returned to the Cher-
feck house with the coat which Logan
td Linsley identified as the one worn by
fe murderer. Each investigator checked
‘be garment very carefully but it seemed
Woffer no clues. The {pockets were
‘pty and the tailor’s label was missing.
as put to one side.
- Tuttle now turned to study the bloods-
wined clue which Maher had earlier
ead on the table for him to study. It
“acopy of the Bridgeport Telegram
that morning, Tuesday. Feb. 1,

Tuttle felt this meant the search should
feextended to Bridgeport. Maher disag-
fed, thinking it was likely the paper was
Pechased in Milford.

The door opened and a dark-haired dis-
Swght man of medium size entered the
} ®n. He looked at the crimson splotches
the wall and floor with alarm.

“Where is my wife?’’ he asked.

They led him to the body and his self-
“trol fled. He broke down and cried.

y wife,’ he repeated over and over
‘un. Later he went to the looted closet,

“ply tobacco can.

= . “MyGod. They killed my wife for one

d dollars."
hernock explained that the couple

Mortgage interest due on Thursday.
ly-five dollars had been added to
Money in the tin last week. On the
Ous night he had brought home his
=)» Pay and gave it to his wife.

vee her $35.75,"* the victim's hus-
i » Said. “She put it in this tin box and
oa, ety." Chernock was taken to
a headquarters for more questions.
there, he was shown the empty
Peketbook by Coroner Mix. He iden-

fat he was going on alone. mS
| Fowler climbed a rocky hillside. Over-.

Gree warning shots into the air. Within -

a loose board, and pulled out an:

been saving to make their paymenton .

The husband was unable to identify the
“dark overcoat, nor could he think of a
_ Single suspect. He was asked if he knew

of anyone in Bridgeport who could have
committed the crime. Chernock was puz-
zled. ; ‘

“I can think of no man who would do

this thing,”’ he replied. “No one knew we
~ kept money in the house. We always pul-
led the curtains. whenever we went to the
tin.”
, When the coroner determined he could
learn no additional information, Cher-
nock was sent home. His story was found
true in every respect.

The fugitive made good his escape.

' Police guarding highways and filling sta-
tions arrested several suspects who were
* Jater released after questioning. Fresh de-
_ tails were assigned to guard the icy roads.
Then Captain Fowler returned to police
‘headquarters with disheartening news.
He said the posse had succeeded in pick-
ing.up the fugitive's footprints once
again. After a mile and a half, they led up

the railroad embankment and vanished.

The only lead seemed to be in the
black-and-white checkered cap, which
might be identified, but it disappeared
along with the killer. The men retired to
Mayer's office where they reviewed the

‘ Startling events of the afternoon. Dis-
couragement, settled in. It seemed this
would be one of the very few times when
‘no tell-tale clue was left behind. Nor was
there any ‘‘break'’, usually termed as
lucky by those not familiar with police
work, but often the result of persistent
investigation.

The investigators had learned nothing
from the bloodstained copy of the
Bridgeport newspaper and they had gone
over the dark brown overcoat, their only
tangible clue, a dozen times. Tuttle fi-

nally took the overcoat;and entered the -

darkened court room next to Maher's of-
fice. He turned on the lamp over the
clerk's desk and spread oui the overcoat.

He examined the pockets one by one,
hoping to discover something new. The
detective tumed them inside out and dis-
covered a slight rip on the right pocket.
He made the opening larger and slipped a
finger through. He detected a small lump
in the lower corner of the coat between
the lining and outer cloth. Tuttle slit the
lining and shook the garment gently over
the clerk’s blotter.

He was unprepared for what followed.
A cloud of many-colored discs fluttered
down upon the desk. They were small,
bright blue, purple, orange, red and green
thin paper wafers. They were all the same
size, a quarter of an inch in diameter.
Confetti? ae

Tuttle showed his discovery to Maher
and told him to bring Chernock back to
headquarters as soon as possible. The

_ Superintendent hesitated. It was after |
a.m. t

But Tuttle thought this was a vital clue.
He told Maher that if his hunch was cor-
rect, there was no time to lose. Captain
Fowler drove out to Old Gate Lane and
returned with a haggard Chernock.

“If you can help us,”’ Tuttle told
Joseph Chernock, ‘I think we may be
able to find out who killed your wife.
Have you entertained anyone recently
who might have been to a wedding?”

Chernock shook his head.

“Have you had guests who might have
been going to a party where they might
have used confetti like this?’’ Tuttle al-
lowed the tiny multi-colored discs to slip
through his fingers and flutter to the desk.
Chernock looked at the paper in as-
tonishment.

“That's not confetti."’ he shouted.
“Those are dial punctures from phonog-
raph records. They came from the place
where I work." Then he explained.

The colored labels bearing the title of
the record, the trademark, and the artist
were pasted upon each record. Later
these records were punched so that the
phonograph playing shaft could be in-
serted through the hole when the record
was played. The confetti-appearing paper
discs were discarded with other waste. In
an unexplained manner, some of the discs

had found their way inside the coat lining. .

Tuttle asked if any man from the
phonograph company had been at his
house lately.

**Yes. someone has,’’ Chernock re-
plied. ‘Last Saturday one came to the
house. We fished in the creek near the
house and he stayed to dinner. We are
friends and I mentioned to him that I had
secured the money to meet the mortgage
interest."’ Chernock hesitated and looked
puzzled.

**But he doesn’t need money. He
wouldn't have robbed us. Last Saturday
he gave one of my children a dollar to
spend for anything they wanted."’

**T still want to investigate him,”* Tuttle
replied. *‘What is his name?”

Chernock hesitated. *‘l can't re-
member. I only know he works at the
factory.”

“Who would know?"*

The foreman. We can see him in the

morning and he'll tell youthe man’s name . *

and where he lives.”

“We won't wait that long," Tuttle re-
sponded. *‘We're going to see the'fore-
man right now. Tell me where he lives.”
Thirty minutes later they were speeding
through the deserted streets of
Bridgeport. They pulled up in-front of
police headquarters.

Leaving Chernock in the guard room,
Maher and Tuttle spoke with Lieutenant
James H. Bray who assigned Detective
Sergeants Herbert Washburn and Frank

(continued on next page)
39

Holbrook to assist the Milford group.
Chernock rejoined the group and directed
them to the foreman’s home. They drove
out of the business district and into the
residential area. Finally they turned
down a side street.

“It’s the third house down on the
right." Chernock instructed. Washburn
and Holbrook went up the steps and
knocked on the door. The clocks were
striking 3 a.m. when the foreman came
downstairs and the man explained their
errand.

**| know who you mean,”’ the foreman
replied. “He calls himself John Kelsey
but I'm not sure that's his right name. He
left the company three weeks ago.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Yes, down on Organ Street. I know
the house but not the number.”

The foreman agreed to accompany the
officials. He dressed hurriedly and the
men piled into the “machine,’’ as cars

, were called in the Twenties.

They reached the street and drove
slowly down its length. The foreman fi-
nally pointed out a small duplex house.
‘That's it.” he said, pointing, ‘*He lives
on the farther side.”

Washburn and Tuttle remained outside
in the shadows as Maher and Holbrook
climbed the stairs. The others stayed in
the car. Lights flashed on when Wash-
burn banged on the door andan attractive
woman opened the door.

“Police Headquarters."’ Holbrook
said. showing the woman his badge.
“Does John Kelsey live here?"

“He's one of my lodgers. He’s asleep
now.”*

The two men went inside. Four or five
minutes passed, and a light came up inan
upstairs window. Still the two officers
had not returned, so Washburn and Tut-
tle tried the front door. It was unlocked.
They entered and went upstairs. Pushing
open the door of the lighted room they
saw a powerfully-built man sitting par-
tially dressed on a bed. Holbrook and
Maher stood covering him with drawn
guns.

The lower part of the prisoner's face.
his neck, and his hands were covered
with fresh. bloody abrasions. Tuttle
asked the man where he got the
scratches. .

“| was out coasting tonight. My double
runner tipped over.”

Meanwhile, Maher was checking the
closet. He found a suitcoat inside. its
front matted with blood. Tuttle asked the
man if he hurt himself that bad. but there
was no reply from the sullen suspect. A
further check of the closet revealed a torn

Case OF The Cone ier

(continued from page 39)

shirt with a missing right cuff. It, too, was
splattered with blood. Tuttle asked where
the shirt cuff was.

“That was ripped off when the sled
tipped over."* Kelsey replied.

Tuttle watched the man closely and — r \ c
> Milford in their automobile. They stop»,

noticed nervous eyes casting a furtive
glance at the waste basket. The detective
dug beneath some papers and found the
missing bloodstained cuff. Asked where
the rest of his clothes were, the prisoner
replied that they were downstairs drying.
Tuttle went downstairs to check.

He found a pair of trousers and a crum-
pled black-and-white checkered cap.
While Tuttle was examining these finds.

the landlady entered and identified her- '

self as Margaret Carr. She said that
Kelsey had lived at the 108 Organ Street
address for over a year. He had left the
house that morning at 10 a.m. wearing a
long. brown overcoat.

When he came back. the overcoat was
missing and he had a gray scarf tied
around his neck. The bottoms of his
trousers were torn and the knees were
soaked. His shoes were wet and he was
covered with scratches. The man bor-
rowed some vaseline to put on the
wounds and explained he had fallen off a
sled near Ash Creek. The Carr woman
also said that Kelsey gave her a ten dollar
bill to be applied towards his account.

After Chernock and the factory fore-
man identified the suspect, Tuttle asked
him where his overcoat was.

“Never owned one,”’ came the re-
sponse.

“There's no use in lying any more,”
Tuttle said. ‘Where's the money you
stole in Milford yesterday afternoon?”

“1 don't know what you're talking
about. | wasn’t in Milford and I don't
know anything about any robbery.”

“Or murder?”

“No, no, no,”’ Kelsey shouted.

“We're taking you back to Milford,”’
the detective told the prisoner. "A
hundred men have been searching for you
since yesterday afternoon. I'd hate to be
in your shoes when they find out that
you're back in town.” Tuttle paused a
moment for effect. Then he added
quietly. “Now where's the money?”

Kelsey hesitated but a minute. Then he
spoke. ‘The money is under that corner
of the carpet."* he said. pointing with his
finger.

Tuttle walked over to the spot. flipped
over the carpet, and recoveréd two
20-dollar bills.

The officials applied more pressure.
Finally the man produced money beneath
the bed quilt and more 20-dollar bills be-

neath the rug. Tuttle initialed the bills for
identification. The amount came to

* $84.06. Kelsey said he spent the rest;

“Did you kill the woman?”

“It was self defense. It was either her.
life or mine."’ Then the man would say no
more. Kelsey was taken back to Milford
where he was first questioned by Coronet |
Mix and then taken over to the Chernock
home with Tuttle, Maher, and Fowler.

by ’ i
‘ger, questions from the authorities dis-*
dosed immediate discrepancies. Kelsey.
gmldn’t describe the two men, the car,
gar did he recall the license number. He™
@dn't know where the Stratford ~
sadhouse was located and he couldn't
recall the name of the saloon in New”
Haven. Kelsey was taken to New Haven®
County jail to await grand jury action.”

Tuttle went out to tie up the loose ends”

“he

the 9 p.m. mun to Bridgeport. Z

McKee ‘told Tuttle that the bus had
stopped for gasoline halfway back to
Bridgeport. While there, a policeman had
made the passengers get off the bus while
he examined them. Kelsey was let
through. i

Both McKee and Keegan identified
Kelsey at the County Jail the next day and
Tuttle confronted the prisoner with the

He said that after leaving his rooming: . sfthe investigation. He learned from Wil- * additional information.

. house the morning before (Feb. 1) he met”

two strangers who offered him a ride to

ped. for lunch in a Stratford roadhouse’ _
where Kelsey said the men threatened:

kill him unless he told-them where they — i

could get some money. He feared for his’.
life. He remembered the visit the prevk™
ous Saturday to the Chernock home, and
the money hidden there. ‘ ‘
The two men drove him to a spot near”
the house. gave him a black mask. and
said they would keep him under watch to

make sure he didn't doublecross them,”

Kelsey put on the mask and then hidina
clump of trees waiting for an opportunity.
When the woman left the house for the
barn. he tried to reach the house before
she returned. When he was discovered,
he told Mrs. Chernock he would spare het
if she would tell where the money was
hidden, The woman put up a fight but
even after he overpowered her she ft
fused to tell where the money was hidden,
At last, after gruesome methods of pers
suasion. he learned where it was hidden,

He secured the money after, in his
words. “the woman had fallen into the
cellar.” He took a pistol from a drawet
just as a man rushed in with a gun and told
him to put up his hands. The following
quoted directly from police records, =

“The revolver I found was 0 good.
The trigger was broken,"* Kelsey told the
policemen. ‘I tried to hold him off but he
shot at me. When I climbed out the wit
dow another man hollered at me. | ran
across the field with the first man
me. Then a lot of men came near where
was hiding. I tried to cross the rail ;
tracks. A man standing on. top of t

bridge shouted. He came after me.
he stopped to reload I threw off my
and ran.

“| jumped from rock to rock so note 4

leave footprints and a mile or sO furthet
went back to the railroad tracks. | got to
the place where I was supposed to |

the men and hid in the bushes. Their bel
came alongyPhopped in, and we drove
New Haven. After spending an hour OF
two in a saloon we went back W ©
Bridgeport. They left me at the rail -
station and went away.”

Kelsey said he didn’t pay the men any’. 4

thing. He explained to them that he
chased off by a man with a gun before
had a chance to find the money. lows

(continued on next page) wor =
eas.

lem E. Keegan, a ticket inspector at the
New Haven railroad station, that a man”
wswering Kelsey's description had tried '
w slip through to the southbound train
guform around 9 p.m. Keegan stopped
wdordered him away. He noted the man>
wore a red-spotted gray scarf. :
Keegan told the detective that he later’
ww this same man talking to Archibald J."
McKee who operated a Packard bus bet- °
ween Bridgeport and New Haven’ over
tke Milford Turnpike. McKee, in turn,’
smembered the man because of: this
seme scarf. He had been aa passenger on ~

Kelsey admitted he had lied. He had,
he said, planned and executed the crime
himself. After the murder, he escaped to
White City at Savin Rock. There he
caught a trolley to New Haven, tried to
sneak on a southbound train, failed, and
then took the bus back to Bridgeport.

Authorities discovered the man’s real
name was John Kasaraskus, although he
had operated under a number of different
aliases. They also discovered that some
time earlier, as a respected member of the
New Britain Lithuanian Society, he had
assaulted the treasurer in order to rob the

organization's funds. Due to the ferocity
of the attack, he served five years in the
State Prison at Wethersfield.

Kasaraskus, alias Kelsey, was con-
victed of first-degree murder in the New
Haven Superior Court and sentenced to
be hanged at Wethersfield on May 27,
1921. The sentence was duly carried out,
and the tortured, mutilated Mrs. Cher-
nock was avenged.

The Milford. Connecticut, of 1921, like
the town I knew 30 years later, is now
gone forever, existing as a receding
memory of those who were there. It is a
hustling community today, a town that
has sacrificed woods and dairy farms for
businesses, people, and houses. |

But there are still those around who
remember the excitement of 1921 when
an apparently clueless murder case was
solved within 24 hours due to the persis-
tence of detectives — and a handful of
**devil’s confetti.”

4
;
es

eit

Don’t Tell Mom Or I'll Murder You

(continued from page 25) ao ayed

ged anything between sixteen and sixty.

The inspector was not surprised.”*
Tawal witnesses to an act of violence *
teidom retain very accurate impressions
@ the appearance of the participants.”
What did surprise him was the fact that
th accounts of what had taken place
@ancided so exactly.

According to all four witnesses, the
¥eman had come running down the street
® the direction she lay facing. She had
Wen screaming and calling for help and
‘man had been pursuing her with the
iin his hand.

Al the point where she lay, she had
®embled and fallen. The man had run up,
Pessed the gun against her head and

td. The girl had given a violent jerk and

then lain still: The man had paused no
fere than a second and had then run off
een the street in the same direction.

“Family trouble or a pair of lovers,”
ent inspector. “They must live in this

Se ane people who live around
now them, even by sight,"’ said the
rant, bs

Then try the taverns and bars,”’ said
' ctor. ‘There are two or three of

™™ further on down the street.”
¢ Sergeant set off down the street in
¢tion from which the girl and her
“er Were supposed to have come and
"Spector turned back to Dr. von

8. “Anything else you want to see
ter he asked.

oe doctor shook his head sadly. “Per-

fectly clear-cut matter,”’ he said. “I'll
have to perform the autopsy for the re-
cord, of course, but I'm afraid it won't
provide you with anything useful.*’

**| don’t expect it to,”* said the inspec-
tor. ‘‘] think that once we identify the girl,

the identity of the murderer will be obvi-

ous.""

One of the patrolmen from the patrol
cars at the scene came up and saluted.
“The dispatcher would like to speak to
you, inspector,"* he said. The’ inspector
nodded and went over to the car.

“We've just had another report of a
homicide or a suicide or something,”’ said
the dispatcher at police headquarters,
speaking over the radio telephone. “It’s
right there in Deutz too. I thought you
might like to take a look.” \

“Good God!"’ said the inspector
mildly. “Deutz is having a bad day today,
isn’t it? Read me the report.”

“It's from a Ludwig Kohlhayer,”* said
the dispatcher. **He’s a civil service emp-
loye at the court of justice. Says his son
Anton just telephoned him and said there
was a dead body in his apartment. The
father thinks he may have committed
suicide after calling. I've got a car on the
way, but you're closer. It’s No. 4, Tem-
ple Street.”

**Kohlhayer or Kohlmayer?”’ said the
inspector. ‘‘l seem to remember somnte-
thing about a Kohlhayer. It’s not a com-
mon name.” - es

‘It's Kohlhayer,”* said the dispatcher,
“and it seems to me that I've heard the

name, too. Don't know where or when.

‘ I'll ask around here if it rings a bell with

anybody else.”
“If you get anything, call me at Temple
Street.”’ said the inspector, *‘I'll go over

. atonce andtake Dr. von Kalmus with me.
_He’s here now.”

The inspector dispatched one of the
uniformed patrolmen to find Sergeant
Hausknecht and inform him of the new
development while he and the doctor
were driven to Temple Street by another
of the patrol cars, the sergeant having the
keys to the inspector's official car in his

- pocket.

No. 4 Temple Street turned out to bea
rather shabby apartment building of five
floors. According to the names on the
mail boxes, Anton and Anita Kohlhayer
lived on the third floor.

There was no elevator and the inspec-
tor and the doctor hurried up the stairs
with the patrolmen, located the apart-
ment and, when there was no response to
the ringing of the doorbell, tried the knob,
found the front door was unlocked and
went in. F

Lying on a sofa in the living room was
the totally naked body of a very young.
pretty girl. Or rather, she had been a
pretty girl for her features were now con-
torted in agony and-blackened by the ef-
fects of suffocation. Knotted deeply into
the swollen flesh of her throat was a
twisted, heavy wool scarf.

The officers rushed forward. the doc-
tor fumbling in his case for a scalpel, and,
working together, quickly cut away the
strangling scarf. It was, however, too
late.

‘I'm afraid she’s been dead for some
little time."’ said the doctor, his head

(continued on next page)
41

An Inhuman Ort

Mrs. Chernock was in the yard |.

and approaching her he demanded
the money. She was frightened and
fled toward her doorway. The in-
truder picked up a large rock and
hurled it at the woman’s head as
she ran. - Dashing after, he pre-
vented “her shutting the door, and
so she ran up the stairway to the
bedroom where ner one year old
baby lay asleep. The murderer was
at her heels. striking her with a
cobbier’s iron gtand used for+sup-
porting shoe lasts. In the house
Kacearauskas had founf& a_ short
ax and with the two instruments
repeatedly struck the woman until.
she was G@ead. Phe medical ex-
aminer found thirty-six wounds on
her head and body. ‘The cries of
the woman and baby attracted the

attention of the oldest child, a girl |

of twelva years, who had returned:
from school shortly after the
mother fled into the house.

The little girl ran to the bedroom,
saw an intruder. striking her

ther, and fled to the gearest
“rouse. for assistance. She came
back with a neighbor who was
armed with a shotgun and as they
epproached Kacearauskas jumped
from 2 lower window and made for

the woods. He was wearing a moskl

amiper found thirty-six wounds on |the prison March 1 to await his:

her head and body. The cries of
the woman and .baby attracted the
attention of the oldest child, a girl
of twelve years, who had returned:
from school shortly after ¢he
mother fled into the house.

The little girl ran to the bedroom,
saw an intruder” striking her

mother, and fied to the gearest
House for. assistance. She came
back with a neighbor who was

armed with a shotgun and as they
epproached Kacearauskas jumped
from % lower window and made for
the woods. He was wearing a mask
and the child did not identify him.
The neighbor fired but missed the
fugitive. Both thought the crim-
inal @ negro, not knowing that it
was a white man masked. A posse
searched the woods all night with-
out result. Detective Harry Tuttle

of New Haven deserves credit .for |

the quick capture of the murderer

in Bridgeport next morning. Most
of the money he had stolen from
the bedroom was recovered... He
readily confessed and seemed proud
of the crime.
“died: hard’. and put up quite a
fight when cornered.

Immediately, after
Kacearauskas was taken to the
scene of the crime and conducted
the detectives and other officers over
the propeftty éxplaining all his ac-
‘tions of the previous day. ;
parently kept nothing back, neither

did he display the slightest concern |

about himself nor remorse for his
| deed. eo" :

He ap-_

who. was taken in his lodging ‘oom |

He said the woman |

|
his arrest, |

> Strange; Court Scene.

._The machinery of the state work-.
ed quickly, and on February 28 a
grand jury in the superior court at
New Haven brought in a true bill.
The prisoner pleaded guilty to the
indictment, charging murder in the

first degree. Kacearauskes was
asked once by his lawyer and twice

y. Sitting with thantis din nhid@
‘trousers pockets he replied each
time: “Nothin’. at all, nothin’ at
all.” State’s Attorney Arnon Alling

and after sufficient detail had been
recorded, Judge James H: Webb
sentenced the prisoner to be hanged
May 27 at the prison:in Wethers-

| field. The entire case was concluded
iin an afternoon. Kacettrauskas wag

'and in the suburbs.
Seemed to give no evidence of in-.
Sanity while a prisoner but has ap-
' peared bereft of al

: human kind.
|

| At Wethersfield Before.

“unmoved throughout the proceed-

the court if he had anything to.

offered the evidence of the | state.

Stace

ee semana

ings, and that has been his attitude
during his stay at the prison.

In Bridgeport he was known as
John Kelsey and was a familiar
figure in public dance

1 the instincts of

halls here:
The man _ has’

When Kacearauskas arrived at:

'execution, he wag not a stranger to’

the grim walls of the ‘goal.
14, 1915 he tried to kill and rob
Anthony S. Petranskas of 85 East

street, New Britain, by striking the
‘latter, who
| head with a lead pipe,

was a tailor, over the
of the assault reached the dresser
in his room and caught up his ree
volver with which he shot Kacear-
auskes through the arm. Police-
men attracted by the report of the
cartridge arrived quickly and ar-
rested the would-be. slayer. He

“was sentenced to Wethersfield for

& maximum of four years and
served’ his term. The motive. for
the first crime was the hoped for

theft, of money which he believed |

Petranskas hed in his possession by
virtue of his office a treasurer of a
small organization.

June :

The victim |

|
}

Sohn Kacearauskas,

May 27. /92/
mam

KACEARAUSKAS. REPENTANT.
OES CALMLY TO HIS DOOM
IN WETHERSFIELD PRISON

Twenty seconds after he entered
the death chamber at Wethersfield
at 12:03:30 standard time this
morning, John Kacearauskas of this
ety paid with his life for the mur-
der of Mrs. Anna Chernack of Mil-

ago. After the body was lowered
following the pronouncement by the
prison physician that life was ex-
tinct, it was placed in a _ wicker
basket coffin and taken in charge by
friends in Hartford.

ford on February ist.. The hanging Hanging Apparatus Ohanged. |
was one of the most expeditious A alight miodification in the}
ever seen. at the state prison. ‘God! hanging apparatus hed been made
have mercy on my _soul,”” were|in the week which elapsed between
: Kacearauskas’ last audible words. |the death of Wade and that of
The man never saw the death | Kacearauskas, The wurden pushed
a lever similar to the clutch of an

rope. He entered the death cham-

derer. The lever was so arranged
last night that it was onlIv necessary |
for the warden to step upon « '
plunger with his foot in ‘order to,
release the 350 pound weight ]
which swings the doomed man aloft.
Kacearauskas. according to the !
priest who accompanied him to the |

bowed while the black cap was
placed over his head and the noose
adjusted.

The death lever was sprung at
12:03:50 and the man, was declared
‘dead at 12:13:15.

Kacearauskas walked to the spot
' beneath the rope without glancing |

;un at it as did Elwood Wade, who |
gallows, was repentent in his last
died in the same chamber a week jb ours and seemed almost eager to
pay with his life for the brutal mur-
der with which he wag charged. |
Kacearauskas was a supposed
“friend of Joseph Chernock and his—
fife Anna. Often he had’ been in-|
vited to dinner at their humble little.
cottage in Milford where he bar-
took of their meat and bread,
laugHed with their eix childron, and
often went fishing with the father.
at the shore nearby. In fact, rone «
week before the crime the two _men |
been on such a fishing excur-|
sion. Kacearauskas knew that
Chernock was trying to gave $110 to:
pay the interest’ on the mee
|

hanging over the little home. He
knew that the man -and wife ex-
pected to have the cash ready when
the interest’ fell due. So, on-Feb-
ruary 1, believing that they prob-
ably had the money in the house,
he went from his lodging place in |
| Bridgeport to Milford. I

Seagctt
rete

et les A Sieg Pa
Ostet

grocery at Noble and Berkshire avenues, Bridgeport, Conn.,
as 10 o'clock; the two clerks had
ig the floor in the rear of the
23 receipts when

| ESTER JACOBS, personable young manager of the chain

was closing for the day. It w
gone home; the errand boy was sweepil
store and Jacobs was hastily totaling the March
the man walked in.

“Gimme a pack of cigarets,”
cap was pulled low over his forehe

up. His manner was nervous.
The store manager hesitated. “We're closed,” he replied, Then
rning toward a shelf. “However, if

”

ordered the stranger gruffly. His
ad and his coat collar was turned

he smiled good-naturedly, tu
cigarets are all you want T guess T can take care of you. Here..

But the erstwhile customer did not reach for the cigarets nor did
he produce the money with which to pay for them. Instead, his
hand jerked from a coat pocket and Jacobs stared down the barrel

of acheap, shiny pistol.

ss.

‘£6.08 dee

CORR eeeeeeeee

dtd 44

SURE EREREEpER

Detective Lieut. James Bray, now captain,

CHARLES BOSWELL

followed a strange clue, left at the murder
scene, and trapped the cellar club slayer.
At left is an exterior view of the store,

CtlAn

Par

“Tt’s a stickup!” the man muttered.
“Hand over all the dough in the place or
I'll blow you to pieces!” He moved for-
ward, urging Jacobs in the direction of
the cash register,

For a moment the grocery store man-
ager looked as though he would comply

with the bandit’s demand. He stepped
behind a counter warily. He touched a
key of the cash machine and rang up “No
Sale.” But as the money drawer slid open,
he whirled, dived for the scales on the

a, ana ae a =, Co ey
7 ~ fe eo ” Sted ‘tbe
pe “

hl eg

After a long vigil, Sergt. Robert N.
Grandfield, left, was one of the officers
who took the elusive gunman into custody,
The cowardly prisoner was too surprised
to offer any resistance to his captors.

counter and grabbed up a rack of heavy,
castiron weights.

He let fly. He was aiming, apparently,
at the bandit’s gun, but the first weight
narrowly missed its mark and struck the
bandit in the chest. Cursing and scream-
ing with pain, the gunman went down. A
second later he was on his feet, retreating
toward the door, his revolver leveled.

Jacobs hurled another weight. The
gunman dodged and fired. Jacobs dropped
his remaining missiles and, staggered
back, groaning. A wet red patch grew
suddenly large and bright on his shirt-
front.

The gunman looked frantically about.
He darted toward the cash register.
Simultaneously the errand boy in the rear
of the store cried out in terror but never-
theless he lifted his broom high and daunt-
lessly charged.

Jacobs fell to the floor and lay still.
His body blocked the narrow approach to
the cash register. The bandit halted with-

out stepping over him, gazed down and

seemed suddenly seized with fright.
He never reached the cash register,

) * A youthful witness told Detective Sergt.

Thomas Maloney, above, how the heroic
store manager had hurled a fdur-pound
scale weight, arrow, at the killer.

Instead, he turned and ran out of the
store, the holdup foiled. The errand boy
followed him as far as the door, From
there he saw the bandit jump into a wait-
ing automobile which lunged forward
into the night.

The boy strained his eyes. He could
see only that the car was a small sedan
and that another man was driving. He
could not tell the make of the car, nor,
by the dim glow of its tail light, its regis-
tration number,

Shaken, yet still very much possessed
of his wits, the boy returned to the store
and grabbed up the phone. He called first
a hospital and then the police. Afterward
he went to the side of the stricken em-
ploye.

Jacobs was. still unconscious seven
minutes later when a squad car arrived,
disgorging both blue-coated and plain-
clothes officers under the command of
Sergt. Dennis Kehoe and Detective Sergt.
Anthony Voccola.

Kehoe questioned the errand boy while
Voccola attempted to arouse Jacobs and
obtain a statement. The boy recited as
much as he could remember about what
had happened, describing the shooting
and the escape of the gunman and end-
ing with: “He was a tall fellow, young
and slim. He wore a brown suit and a
gray cap.”

An ambulance clanged up and Dr.
Alexander Sollosy, its surgeon, bent over
the fallen man. “Shot through the heart,”
he told the officers after a moment of ex-
amination. “He won't liv e another
hour.”

As Jacobs, still insensible, was being
carried out of the store on a stretcher,
Capt. John Regan, chief of the Bridge-
port detective bureau, and Detective
Lieut. James Bray, Regan’s ace assistant,
came through the door. They were

quickly made acquainted with all that had
happened.

STARTLING

*A pair of them.
in an automobile
“Two cars Wt
night, Chief,” Br
who had been oft
street and the ot
—both sedans!
As the officers
police photograp
the scene, some:
Regan’s heel. H
a small bluish ct
as the type of ch
tipping the end
“One of you «
asked.
For a momen
the errand boy
there fifteen mi
ten o’clock I sv
say, that’s righ
went down wl
him with a wel
out of his pocke
The phone :
Voccola was ca
pital where he
lance. Jacobs,
had died witho:
be placed on tl
Grimly Bra)
Regan. The
his shoulders
sibility of a!
“Kehoe,” he
details of the \
“take a coupl
Noble avenuc
getaway car
you find on tl
get a trace ot
or identity «
rest of you, |
The captai
Thomas J. 4

‘|

The letha!
when it w:
unfit for {
highly su

DETEC

SER eT

Vines eouatban dM

‘ens at
weed

» who succeeded
store manager,
ot, cross, where
fell when the

inset, fired.

as
ip
Jacobs

Nts to the s
gunman,

ge Chuba
e victim

th
pw
ester

Geor
vicious

WWVJidids

% ee ae |

Brn eA ee RE ole al

Sergt.

heroic
-pound
‘ler.

t the
id boy
From
wait-
rward

could
sedan
He
nor,
CLI s-

ssed

store
first

vard
ent

CVO)
ived,
lain-
dof
ergt.

hile
and
las
vhat
ting
nd-

“A pair of them, eh?” said Regan. “And
in an automobile.”

“Two cars were reported stolen to-
night, Chief,” Bray informed his superior
who had been off duty. “One from Court
street and the other over on North street
—both sedans !”

As the officers stepped back so that a
police photographer might take a shot of
the scene, something crunched beneath
Regan’s heel. He looked down and saw
a small bluish cube which he recognized
as the type of chalk used in poolrooms for
tipping the end of a cue.

“One of you officers drop this?” Regan
asked.

For a moment there was no reply. Then
the errand boy volunteered: “It wasn’t
there fifteen minutes ago, sir. Just after
ten o’clock I swept over that spot. But,
say, that’s right where the holdup man
went gown when Mr. Jacobs slammed
him with a weight. I'll bet that thing fell
out of his pocket !”

The phone rang and Bray answered.
Voccola was calling from Bridgeport hos-
pital where he had gone with the ambu-
lance. Jacobs, he reported, was dead. He
had died without speaking before he could
be placed on the operating table.

Grimly Bray conveyed the message to
Regan, The captain stiffened, squaring
his shoulders and accepting the respon-
sibility of a murder investigation.

“Kehoe,” he said, apportioning various
details of the work to the officers present,
“take a couple of patrolmen and go down
Noble avenue. That way—the way the
getaway car went. Question everybody
you find on the streets and see if you can
get a trace of the car or the whereabouts

or identity of its occupants. Now, the

rest of you, listen . .

The captain ordered Detective Sergts..
Thomas J. Maloney and John J. Garrity

The lethal gun was broken as shown here
‘when it was recovered by police. Although
unfit for further use as a weapon, it was
highly successful as clinching evidence.

DETECTIVE

to quickly canvass every poolroom in
Bridgeport. They were to inquire if a
tall, slender man in a brown coat and gray
cap had been seen playing or lounging
about such premises. They were to in-
terest themselves particularly if it should
be discovered that a blgck of cue chalk
was missing from one of the pool parlors.
The chalk was certainly a slim clue—but
the officers were determined to make the
niost of it.

Bray and Detective Sergt. Robert Mc-
Cullough were assigned to investigate the
possibility of either of the two stolen cars
having any connection with the murder.
Bray and McCullough did this rapidly.
The car seized on Court street had been
recovered and its thief apprehended just
outside Bridgeport after a brief shooting
fray with two state troopers.

He was not the murderer—not if the
errand boy’s description of the gunmal
was by any means accurate. The car thief
was short and fat and far from young.
Furthermore, the troopers had picked up
his trail and begun chasing him a minute
or so before 10 o'clock.

Likewise, the second stolen car report
panned out empty. The sedan missing
from North street had not actually been
stolen, Rather, it had been borrowed
without leave by the 16-year-old daugh-
ter of its owner who, after taking a couple
of her girl friends for an hour’s joyride,
had returned safely home and was now

sobbing over the confusion shehad caused.

At midnight Bray joined Regan who
had gone to headquarters. With the cap-
tain was the errand boy seated at a table,
busy poring over rogues’ gallery pictures
of persons arrested for various types ol
banditry and gun charges, as well as those
suspected of being capable of committing
such crimes.

Bray made his report and then, glancing
from the captain to the boy and back to
his chief, observed: “I see you've given
him the ‘local talent’ file. So you figure
some Bridgeport lads pulled this job, eh?
Any particular reason ?”

Regan tugged at his chin, “I’m not.en-
tirely convinced. As a matter of fact I’ve
sent out a statewide alarm, not overlook-
ing the possibility of the fellow in the
brown suit being seen and picked up else-
where.”

Bray was inclined to agree with Regan.
He, too, felt that the frustrated holdup
bore the stamp of local authorship. Tt had
been bungled to an amateurish degree.
Few protessionals would have been
frightened off by the sight of a man dying
and a 14-year-old swinging a broom. In-
stead, an experienced criminal might
have disposed of the boy as well, realiz-
ing his potentialities as a witness.

These things both Bray and Regan
knew from experience. It followed that
if the killer was an amateur, he was likely
of Bridgeport origin. Neophyte bandits
start out in home territory. Familiarity

[Continued on page 68]

Discovery of the kill-

doned quarry, arrow,
led officers to the
bandit’s hangout.

ay 7

er’s coat in this aban-\

Wikon Funderburk,

April 0, / 94.3 :

NEGRO IS EXECUTED

{
'
{

FOR HARTFORD SLAYING.
7

HARTFORD, April 21. — (AP)
Wilson H. Funderburk, 27-year-old
Negro, was put to death in the elec-

tric chair at the State’s prison in>
Wethensfield last night for the rape.

slaying of Christine’ Paramore, .11,
Portland street Negro girl, on April
7 of last year. Funderburk entered
the death chamber at 9:55:31, and

was pronounced dead at 10:00:25—
by Medical Examiner Harold A. |
Howard and Dr, Foster E. Priddy, |
prison physician. Funderburk’s last |
words, pronounced in a clear, strong |

voice, were: “God save my soul.”

|
t

tn,

FUDA , Giuseppe, wh, hanged CTsP (Fairfield) 12-3-1897;
‘ “ “i ome spy eo. tts ; a 4 os
hanged CTsP (Fairfield)

ISEPPEFUDA HANGED

The Trap Was Sprung at
~- 13:26 O'Clock.

YINB MINUTES LATER HE WAS
DHOLARED: DEAD.

‘| Neok Broken by the Fall-No Sensa:

- tlonal Inotdents—How He Spent Ils:

Last Day—An Alleged Brother Dee,
aired tho Rody — Lettors to His!
Mothor and Frionds, ,

Guiseppe Fuda pald the penalty of his
orime of wife murder at the state prison
‘kis morning by hanging on the auto-
‘natlc gallows, The rope tlghtenod by
the operation of the machinery at 12:26
and at 12:35 o’clock or 9 minutes later
Puda was dead. Hina neck was broken
‘iy the jerking up and the fall. The
+xecution waga,nuccens in every partic-
Var ayd at its canclusion. Warden |
“Yoodbridge waa congratulated = by’
itheriff Hawley and many of those pre#- |
cnt

; The Hanglog.

At 12:01 o’clack this morning, the.
warden, Deputy Baisden, Fathers Lynch
und Flannery, Dr. Fox the prison chap-.
‘ain, Dr. M. W. Plumstead of East aa

Oe ee ey

Pol Lowe

.° (QUISEPPE FUDA, |

‘6 ny wet

“Hanged This Morning For the Murder’

_of His Wite, . |

Nicodemo, wh,

Nua!

“am, Dr. Joseph FE: Root, Bhertf Haw-
‘sy of Fairfield county and Directora
Velles, Reynolds, Burr ‘and Crowe
asecd out to the cell room where tho
‘eath warrant was read by Warden
Noodbridge. Fuda was altting on his
bed when the party entqred, reading his
“Mble, He wae culled out and scated
in the. ohalr while the warrant, a com-
cendubly brief document, was-read. He
nade no reply but rolled. his-eyes
“round a Httle until they. rested on
sheriff Hawley whom he apparently
“ecognized. The priests were left with
che condemned man and the rest of tha
warty returned to the prison office,

In about fifteen minutes the priests

notified the warden that they had pre-
-uyped .Fuda for his doom and soon af-
terwards, at 12:18 the entire party en-

ormed in two processions and passed

‘| DIrector Welles, whom Fuda permitted

‘| “acing “tle entrance to the cage room

‘ut of the warden’s priyate residence,
through the east gate Co the back yard,
's Jong the prison walland througPthe back

‘yate to the-execution House. The first [
procession conaslsted of Warden Wood-}:

fen, Bheriff Hawley, Dr, Fox; Dr, m-
itead and Dr. Root, Ditectors Wella,
Yeynolds; Burr and Crowe, Officer Joha
Doolittle with (hé.strapm and Officers
fenry, Holmes and Frederick Edgett.
‘There went Into the cage room.

‘Phe. second. procession was formed

ridge, Jeading, Deputy. fox, De. Bf:

under the charge'of Assistant Deputy]

‘Warden--Albert Perkins, and consisted
‘f the following:. Repragentadves of
‘he’ press, ‘'Titieés,”
Courant,” “Alfred W. Green; “Post,”
'.. J. Kelly; “Telegram,” BS. C. Allen;
‘Bridgeport Farmer,” A. B, Under-
vood; “Bridgeport Unjon,""t2 H. Wile.
won; “Bridgeport Standard," A. BE.
‘avery; “Bridgeport Post,” EL F. Hal-
en; “Norwalk Gazette,” John. T.. Ken-
nedy; Charles H. Keach of the ‘Water-
ry American,” an Invited. guest’ of

a -be present upon a@a-.requeat: made to
‘alt: These people -paased into the exe-
ution room, where Aasistane€ Deputy
|2erkins advanced and placed his foot
on the safety catch until Warden Wood-
roridge, entering, fromthe cage -room,
.ellevéd him. The rest pf the party ar-
yanged themselves around the room

and the omtnous.Jooking dial with its

t{tled to be present at the execution was]

Josenh,.. Mullin;t

Jeath's head and crossed bones,

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Peerenrns Pa ere a es

‘Fiannery, the priest who has been:

‘the hanging. |.
‘friends in Italy, one‘jof which was to

A couple of xeconds Inter or at 12:36
Deputy Naladen raised his right-hand,
Warden Woodbridge pressed with bbe]
foot the red lever, which Instantly res!
leased the remalting shot in the eylin-
der, the heavy weight at the end of

the Fope fell wlth a (hud, aa
quick as Vghtning, and Fuda's
bin Tw owlx fest Into the alr. Tt us

quickly dropped four fert, the cuipritie

‘feet hanging two fect from the plate,

turned half. way round to the left and
with a-elight heaving of the cheat
and a Metle movement of the fingers
hung ateady from the rope--

‘The doctors gathered around the body
and took the pulsations at the wrist
which recorded at eucceslye minute
Intervalas 62, 100, 100, 116, 98, 120, Irresg
ular; 168, 164, 84 The pila» stopped
beating at 12:38.0or nine minutes front
the time the welght fell, and after aps
nivying athe stethoscope to hia heart,
Dre. Fax, Rowe and Plumatead pros
nounced Fuda dead. | Fivy. minutes
later the body war lowerert dep exam
ined by the doctors, Fuda's hands and
face were Glacalored and there wa
little blood on his face cauasd an
niting dia tongue when he wasn J theeg
upward, Hla neck was broken, wT ne
beady was placed In a rosewood comn
upon which was a ellver plate with:
the name “Guiaepno Fuda.” | Fuda!
weighed 161 pounds and .the fall nt |
the weight atruck a blow equal to 1.250

ponnia, .
‘The newspaper mene ffocrors ‘and
rixon directors were entertained af
uncheon by Warden Woodbridge and
Mra, Woodbridge.
Fuda'a Laat totes,
Fuda'a last day on earth was spent
q\ietly, reading his Itallan prayer-
toobk. He ate a light breakfast and a
hearty dinner of cold ronat turkey,
vegetables and fruit. Forrupper Fuda
had a substantial meal of becfateak,
baked potatoes, bread and butter and
coffee, which he hrartlly., enjoyed,
When he handed back the dishes to
Day, Watchman Graham, Fuda sald in
broken English:. “Finale, finale, the
laat,"’ showing that he appreciated’ that

it was hin tant meal. Fada did not we.
tobacco in ary form. He was visited:
during the day by the Rev. Edwatd A.

Fiislo's apiritual adviser. “f :
-‘Fuda put on his aull of new Clothes in
which he was hanged yesterday. motn-

ing, and wore them all day. At aupper.}
tlme he was urged to take off the sult,

and le down or go to. bed, Fuda In-«
dicated by gesticulations that he pre-
ferred to keep on the sult, ‘He remained
fplly dresxed to the end, exoept.that he
removed his collar and replaced {ft for

Buda has written several letters: to

hia mother and jn’ which -he_ Inclosed
hin’. photograph, | Father - Flannory
gave Fuda a plece of a consecrated
candi yesterday morning, Puda lighted
tt and began to pray. After it burned
out: the condemned man became ne
vous and: aeemed uncomfortable util
Warden Woodbridge obtained ‘two :tal-
low dips and gave them to him, Fuda
Nghted them and then resumed. hie de-

i Hiae Fudan Brothert a

At ahout 8 o’clock last evening. War-
‘den Woodbridge recaived.a telephone
message from New York, purporting to
be from Impasario Fuda, who repre
wented himmaclf to be Fuda's brother,
claiming the body. Ho sald. thag he.

| would come.to Hartford this morser,

‘bringing a coffin, and take his brother's
body back with him for burial. Colonel
Woodbridge informed him that it was:
pretty late In the day to.make arragge>'
ments for. the burial of hie. brothers
pedy, but if he came here he would. se)
‘what could. be done, It was, however.
unneceasary to bring @ coffin, as the
stute-had provided one and would bear
the expense of interment, which had
been arranged for, he

Upon looking up the law, Warder:
‘Woodbridge found that criminals exe-
cured by the state must be burted
within the state. The section reads;—~
) Bec, 4, The warden or -his_deputy shall
‘cause the body of any executed er-minal

to be decenUy and guietty burledztn’ gny f

county the state of Connecticut that
may

friends of the executed person, provided a
request for said burial be made to the
warden or deputy on or before the day of
execution. In case the bod

the day of execution, then the warden or
deputy shall dispose of ‘'t as -providrd by
Jaw forthe bidies-ef anelnimed-crim tate)
who dle tn the atate prison. The expenses
of the funeral and burial shall not exceed
$80, and shall be pald out of any funds on
hand appropriated ‘for the maintenance
and suppore of the @tate. prison. :

| After ‘censultation with ex-Mayor
Hyde, the warden'’s counsel, an opin-
jon was-feceived from-him that, Fuda’s
-body favat be burfed by the state, with-
‘In- the stae, and, therefore, Kenney &
Ditton will bury Fuda at 6 o'clock this
morning in St. Patrick’a, Cemetery,
where Murderere Hartlein and Kippiec
were buried, unless Fuda’s brother ar-

Tives and claims the body for interment |.

‘inthis state. Jehn Cronin was buried
in Mount St. Benedict's Cemetery. at
Blue Hilla.. Deputy Warden. Baisden*
will: accompany the body to the grave,
-Uf Fuda te burled* by the state
the onl yway Fuda’s alleged brother
can no get possession of the body is by
‘obtaining from the board of health a
perm3t to disinter*It and remove It out
of the state. A singular fact fe that
the telephone message was the first in-
timation anyhody had that Fuda. had
a brother. He certainly showed but
little intereat in his relative, only ap-
pearing on ‘the scene at- the eleventh
hour, There were those at the prison

Fude’s brother miczht only be a scheme
of New York medical students to get
prraeseton.of the body for purposes of
Alescection, This may, develop later...’
The only relative of Fuda’ who has
visited him ts a cousin, who called
nhout two weeks Ago before Fuda was

Vv; rden’ e, J. H. ;
designated..by. the relatives:.or bees ws mig heute, J. Hi. Clara On

im not claimed |: |
ny—relatives—or-friends on or pérore |

who eurgeated that this claim of being |

votions, evidently... more. composed -in.
manner oo. Poh

refmoved to the cage. ot

Prien OMe als on Duty.
Warden Woodbridge made the follow-

‘dng the hanging: Acting deputy,’ L. F.

guard, W. B, DeBlols; front door, E. M.
Rherman; front yard gate, A. 8. Hull;
driveway gate,.. FE. : Fuller; Inside
yard, Willlarfy Carter: office, J. F. Rell-

‘the wall, Patrick Doherty, Fred HEI.
Knight, John Robbins.
Former Uanetnira,

‘on the automatic: gallows at.the state

‘was hanged Regember “18, “i894, at 10
: o'clock’ a. m., for the murder of Albert,
' Skinner. at South «Windsor. .:. Caspar
‘‘arsSouth Manchzater, was hanged De-
_ ermbcr 3, 1895,-at 12:°6 9. in.) Thamas

'F, Kipple, who killed his wife at New
iHiaven, waa-hanged July 14, 1897, at
12:76 a.m *

|)" Nicodemo Jmpusino, Fuda's- accom-'|

.'plice ia the murder.oft his wife,. wilt

‘The alaposttion: of keepers on duty dur: [

Horton: back gete, H. G. R'aley; front;

-Fuda fe ttre fourth man to be hanged

_prisow.. The first was John Cronin, who | |

Hartlein, who murdered Loulse Trebbe |.

‘'*be'placed tn the ateel. cage to-morrow.

se ee me -

| QUISEPPE FUDA HANGED.

(Continued from Page 1.)

BE ta ts to be banged two weeks from to-

soiday.
. Fada's Crime. ® ‘
Exe poda’s crime was the brutal murder
‘of his wife, Marie Carmelia Fuda, tn
~"Wast Norwalk: on thé night af Febru-
~My. 17, 1867. He confessed that he and!

*Nieodeme Impueino planned the mur- ;
: der, Impusino will be hanged two

oy Weeks from. to-day Friday, December

4% unless the buard of pardons imter-
_feres. The woman was murdered with

@ hatchet, which was.found near the
ecene of the ¢rime. On the night of the
murder. Engineer M. P,. Gates of a
>> freight train passing through East Nor-
walk saw the body of a womun lying
On. the ¢ra apk. He thought she had
“been killed“by a traln and stopped to
‘“nveatigate. The crew of the train naw:
that the body: bore marks of -violance,
the head belng terribly gashed as if an

- axe had been ueed. There were foot-
_ prints and other indications that a vin-
*}ent struggle had taken place. The wo-
man's head was covered with wounds,
either sufficient to cause death.

The next day the search for the
‘murderers began. The two men were
traced to Btamford, and froin there to:
- New York. Fuda waa arrested fn an}
*Ttalian lodging house in Mulberry |
_mtreet, New York cliy. and Impusino!
was captured in Buffalo.

“ Fuda was tried gor the murder tn the
auperior court sitting at Bridgeport be-
fore Judge Ralph Wheeler and a jury.
He admitted the murder, but Iniplicated |
‘Imypusino, claiming that he himeelf held |

his wife wile Impuaino struck the
blows, He claimed to have ben actuat-
‘ed by: Jealousy on acount of hia belief
in her infldeltty. Fuda was found guilty
on June 11 and six days Inter waa aen-
tenced to be hanged on December 3

Impuein» was found guilty of the;
same murder and was sentenced by -

‘Jadge Wheeler to be hanged on Decem-
ber 17,
~Fuda‘e-atolld oanduct was the fcature
of his trial He is low-browed, swar-
thy, and ignorant. Impusino ts brigater
an@ more inteliigent, and the evidence
showed that ft was he who concilved
‘the murder and’ plotted {t. The first
confession was obtalned by Leo Donat,
an Itallan who did detective work for
the state, and secured a full story of
the crime from Fuda in New York.

Fuda was born in Martone, province |
“Of, Reggio, Calabria, Italy, and came
to this country three years. ago laat
Maséh, He sent for his whe the follow-
ing November, They ‘had been married
five years. ;

Fuda was defended at his trial by
“Stiles Judson, jr, of Btratford, and J.
J. Cuneo of Stamford, an Italian. Im-
pusino wax defended by John C. Chain-
berlain of Bridgeport, —

Recently Fuda made a statement re-
Heving Impusino- from direct reaponat-
hility for the murder and admitting
eit he, and he alone, struck the blows
which killed 3 wife,

oe ee ere ee ae, eee.

were en -cs ceeees eee

Bp a em ee ene nt

CONFETTI
ph and Anna, who
Logan’s care, along

ildren, Fowler soon
_ Story of what had
nernock home,
seph, after Anna
the intruder got
‘n and grabbed his

‘e cried. “T’ll tell
vy is. It’s in the
edroom dresser.”
not release the
1. Instead he
e bedroom with
terrified Joseph

' bed, he ran-
/ers,

he snarled,
‘ying to lead
money—and
“rnock then
sband must
out of the

the intruder
still in the
1 me right
is out.”

d, that his
‘ that the
can on the
leased the
‘and came
one hand.
the heavy

!” he bel-

DETECTIVE

‘

|.—The masked murderer entered
the Chernock dwelling through a
side door, indicated by arrow.

2.—A noose awaited the robber
who clubbed a mother while her
children cowered under a bed.

-3.—Under the direction of Cor-
oner Eli Mix an autopsy showed
the savagery of the bludgeoning.

4cPolins Chief James H. Maher
ordered posses to comb a woods
into which the killer had fled.

JANUARY, 1943

Little Joseph shuddered and wept
as he told Captain Fowler the rest
of the story.

“That man hit her with the boot-
jack until she fell down on the floor,”
the boy said. “Then he picked my
mother up, carried her over to the
cellar stairs and threw her down. He
threw the bootjack down after her.
I crawled back under the bed, be-
cause I thought he might hit me too,
so I didn’t see anything else. Later
Mr. Logan came and chased the man
out of the house.”

Fowler, now chief of the Milford
police department, could hardly con-
tain himself at this brave recital of

a brutal crime. “Never mind, sonny,”
he told the boy. “We’ll find the man
who hurt your mother.”

Hurrying back to the Chernock
home, he found a posse of almost 100
Milford citizens, aroused by the
clanging of the fire bell, assembled
at the murder scene. They were led
by Fred W. Lyon, then editor and
publisher of the Milford Citizen. Most
of them carried shotguns or other
firearms.

“This is a terrible crime,’ Fowler
told them, “and a dangerous man is
at large somewhere in those woods.
It’s up to us to dig him out quickly.
But be careful; he’s got a pistol.”

Under the direction of Chief Maher,
Lyon’s posse divided into three sec-
tions. Maher led one, Fowler an-
other and Lyon the third.

“Tf he tries to use that pistol, shoot
him,” Maher ordered.

IN THE LINING LED POLICE TO THE CONNECTICUT MURDERER

Soon the hundred-odd men were
beating through the fields and woods
surrounding the Woodmont station.
Fowler’s group was the only one to
catch sight of the killer. The police
captain saw a tall man in a brown
overcoat emerge from behind a tree.
When the man ignored his command
to halt, Fowler fired two shots, which
apparently missed.

Find Brown Overcoat

The fugitive disappeared into the
woods, but several minutes later
Fowler found the brown overcoat,
bloodstained and discarded. Whether
the blood came from the murderer or
from the dead woman he could not
tell, but he considered it possible
that either his shots or Logan’s had
taken effect.

But the killer was seen no more
by the posse, who combed the woods
until darkness.

Meanwhile Dr. J. H. Fisher of Mil-
ford, summoned to the scene of the,
crime, pronounced the victim dead
and notified Coroner Eli Mix at West
Haven. Mix hurried to Milford with
County Detective Harry M. Tuttle,
now chief of police at West Haven.
Following Mix and Tuttle, Dr. M. M.
Scarborough, medical examiner for
New Haven, arrived and said the
victim had died of skull fractures.
He ordered the body removed to the
undertaking morgue of the Theron
Ford Company at Milford for an
autopsy the next day by himself and
Dr. Fisher.

Mix, Tuttle, Maher and-; Fowler
gathered in the Milford police sta-
tion to discuss the crime, go over
the evidence and question the wit-
nesses,

As they reconstructed the case
from stories told by Joseph and Anna
Chernock, the murderer was someone
who knew that the family had a sum
of money concealed in the house. It
was even possible that during the
struggle with Mrs. Chernock his mask
had slipped sufficiently for his identity
to be revealed to the woman, and
that this recognition had brought
about her death.

But neither of the children had
recognized their mother’s assailant,
whether through fear or the fact that
they hid under the bed.

The police, likewise, were com-
pletely in the dark regarding the sum
of money taken, but reasoned that
Joseph Chernock, who had been sum-

’ moried from his Bridgeport job, would

be able to enlighten them. It was also
possible he might know: the identity
of the killer.

Before he (Continued on page 44)

ttle found
nS inside
2

ers coat,

Mrs. Chernock stared fearfully at
the apparition framed in her door-
way. It was a man, his face cov-
ered by a long black mask. In his
hand he held a gun, aimed at her.

(Photo specially posed by a professional
model. )

an unnamed infant only a few
days old.

“Stay out here in the car and
watch the front,’ Logan told
Lindsley. ‘“T’ll go to the kitchen
door. If anyone’s in that house,
we'll have him cut off.”

He ran around a gravel path
to the back of the house, shout-
ing, “Mrs. Chernock! Mrs. Cher-
nock!”

No sound answered him. Lo-
gan,. with dread premonition
chilling him to the marrow, tip-
toed to the kitchen door, swung
it open and entered the house.

The kitchen was dark, due to
drawn shades, and Logan could
see nothing at first. While he was
attempting to accustom his eyes
to the dimness, he heard a gruff
voice only a few feet away.

“Stand still or I’ll shoot!” it
commanded imperiously.

Logan, his shotgun gripped at
right angles across his body,
hence not in shooting position,
froze in his tracks.

Then, as his eyes began pick-
ing out objects in the room, the
farmer saw the dark-clad figure
of a tall, masked man standing
in the center of the kitchen, a
pistol leveled in his direction.

Although momentary fright
had suddenly parched his throat,
Logan nevertheless managed to
ask, “Who are you? What did
you do to that woman?”

The masked man fixed steely
gray eyes on his interrogator
through thin slits in the black
face covering. It was a few sec-
onds before he spoke.

“Never mind that!” he snarled.
“Get out!”

Logan’s courage was returning.
“You can’t get away,” he said.
“We've got the front of the house
covered. And the police will be
here any moment.”

At the mention of the word
“police,” the intruder glanced
quickly about. Logan started to
lift his shotgun. But the masked
man was on the alert.

“Don’t start anything!” he
barked. “I'll kill you! Now get
out!”

“Who ran up there?” Hall asked.

“It was the devil, I think!” the boy
cried. “I went home from the woods. I
got pretty tired. I sleep out on a cot
in our front yard these hot nights, so I
laid down and went right off to sleep.
First thing I knew something hot felt
like it burned my face. I woke up and
saw him...” The boy broke off, shud-
dering and racked by sobs.

“Saw who?”

“It was a monster, a great, glaring
monster. . His eyes were like bright coals
of fire. He had a knife and cut me again.
There was a club in his other hand. He
raised it up, and I rolled off the cot and
yelled as loud as 1 could. He ran away
when I started to holler.”

Potter Gives Alibi

“That’s him!” exclaimed a voice from’
the crowd. “There’s our killer, all right.
Come on, let’s get him. He can’t have
more than a minute’s start.”

The marshal remained behind with the
wounded youth. Wirt led him back to
the farmhouse and showed him the cot
where he said he had been sleeping when
the monster with the glaring eyes had
attacked him.

Hall examined the bed. Its clean sheets
were heavily bloodstained. The police-

man led the boy into the house where .

Mrs. Parr dressed his wounds. The cuts
were not deep. Leaving the tearful youth
with his mother, Hall went out to the
trail. He saw several lights coming back.
Frank Peace led half a dozen of the men
who had rushed off in pursuit of Wirt’s
attacker.

“Not much chance of finding him out
there now,” said Peace. “I guess we'd
all better give up for the night and get
some rest so we can start in again as
soon as day breaks. Any of you fellows
who live very far away can stay at my
place.”

“Frank,” the marshal called.
you seen Ed Potter?”

“[’m right here,” Potter called out.
“What do you want?”

Hall called him aside. “I want to know
just one thing,” he said softly. “Where
were you yesterday afternoon, between
4 o’clock and 6, let's say?”

“I was in Locust Grove all afternoon.
Got home just before dark. Why?”

“I suppose you could prove you were
in town. That is, if you had to prove
it.”

“Sure. By a dozen people. I was
shopping some and stopped in Bill’s pool-
room. What’s up?”

“That’s all right now. Go on over to
Frank’s and get a couple of hours sleep.”

As the men trooped off the marshal
called Peace back. “I’d like you to stick
around a little while,” he said cryptically.
“I might need some help.”

“Catching the killer, the monster young
Parr saw?” Peace asked.

“No,” said Hall. “Help in protecting
the killer from the posse. They’d prob-
ably string him up if they had the chance.
You see, I’m pretty sure I know who the
killer is.”

The officer went back into the Parr
home. Young Wirt looked up appre-
hensively. “They catch that monster yet,
marshal?” he asked anxiously.

“Have

“No, son,” Hall said firmly. “And they
never will. There wasn’t any monster,
was there Wirt? Unless it was you, out
in the woods this afternoon when Alma
Manning came along with her eggs and
the pail of water.”

“JT don’t know what you mean,” the
youth replied sullenly.

“Smell your hands,” the officer said
sharply. “Smell the clothes you are wear-
ing. Then try to deny you killed Alma
Manning and tried to burn her body.”

Wirt sniffed at his hands and clothes.
The unmistakable, disagreeable odor of
burned flesh, the cloying, sickening smell
of scorched human flesh, caused him to
shudder. He looked at the marshal, a
desperate appeal in his blanched face.

“I burned a dead hog yesterday,” he
said. “The smell must have stayed on
me.”

“I was standing close to you -when we
first started the search tonight,” Hall re-
plied. “As close as Iam now. You didn’t
smell like that then. You've been near
Alma’s body in the last three or four
hours. Where is it?”

Leads Them To Body

His final question struck the youth like

a whiplash. The boy slid from his chair
to his knees and clutched at the officer’s
legs. ;
“Please, marshal,” he begged. “Don’t
let the other men know. Ill show you
where I hid it. But don't tell them.
They’d lynch me.”

For more than a mile Hall and Frank
Peace followed the quaking youngster
along a narrow path in the forest. At
last they halted beside a clump of un-
derbrush.

“In there,” said Wirt in a hoarse whis-

per.

Hall pulled the brush aside and darted
his flashlight on the blackened remains
of lovely Alma Manning. Wordlessly he
turned to Peace, who held the boy by
the arm.

“There’s nothing more we can do- right
now. We'll take him to the county jail
in Pryor and get the body in daylight.”

On the ride to Pryor, Mayes County
seat, Wirt described his horrible crime.

“I was crazy about Alma,” he con-
fessed. “I asked her time and again for
a date, but she only laughed at me be-
cause I was two years younger than she
was.

“Yesterday afternoon I saw her going
over to Frank’s for water. I waited out
on the trail until she came back and then
jumped out and grabbed her. I guess I
went crazy. I thought if I couldn’t go
with her, nobody else was going to.

“J hit her with a club. Then I choked
her to death. After that I got scared. I
didn’t know what to do with her. I re-
membered how the dead hogs burned,
and thought that would be the way to
get rid of her. I could always say it was
somebody burning a hog in the woods if
anyone noticed the fire.

“So I got some kerosene and poured
on her and set her afire. But she didn’t
burn. I dragged her off in the bushes
and went home and got cleaned up. When
the hunt started for her I knew they
would find her, so I ran on, pulled her
out and carried her down where I

showed you. That time I didn’t wash up
very good. That’s how the smell stayed
on me. toe

“Then I got. to thinking that maybe
someone would find her, so I figured the
smart thing would be to get them look«
ing for this monster. I cut myself with
my brother’s razor, then yelled and told.
the story about the glaring monster.”

“That was a clever trick, Wirt, but it
was the very thing that tripped you up,”
the marshal replied. “When you came ”
running into my arms out there, I smelled -
the odor of burned flesh. Right then I
knew who killed Alma.”

Hall lodged his young prisoner in Sher-
iff Walter Panter’s county jail anid, re-
ported the case to County Attorney H. A.
Kehn. The next day County Investigator
Shelby White took over the task of tying
together the loose ends of the case as
Prosecutor Kehn moved to arraign young
Parr on charges of first degree murder.

The arraignment took place quietly
during funeral services for the slain girl.
The sheriff timed the court proceeding
to prevent any demonstration of public
feeling, which ran high against the killer.

Standing before Justice of the Peace
W. F. Graham, Wirt Parr pleaded guilty.
Warned by the prosecutor that such a
plea might land him in the electric chair,
the youth repeated it. He offered a
similar plea later when he faced District
Judge N. P. Johnson.

Despite the brutality of the murder of
Alma Manning on August 6, 1938, the
youth of the slayer saved him from the
chair. Judge Johnson sentenced him to
life imprisonment and he was taken to
the reformatory at Granite, Okla., where

he is today.

Eprror’s Note: To spare possible em-
barrassment to innocent persons, the
names Jim Thomas and Ed Potter, used
in this story, are not real but fictitious.

INTRUDER

(Continued from page 15)

arrived, however, Chief Maher had
dispatched several of his officers in cars
to canvass the highways. As the result
of this quick thinking, two transients
were bagged. Neither wore overcoats,
hence fitted into the general picture the
police had formulated of the murderer.

The clothing of each, examined, re-
vealed no bloodstains, however. But
the officers knew the discarded overcoat’
could have protected the inner clothing
of the slayer from the spattering blood.

Each suspect volubly denied his guilt,
but the brown overcoat fitted both.
They were locked up until their stories
could be checked. ‘

The overcoat contained no labels or
other identifying marks. There was an
old pair of gloves. in one pocket, but
these seemed useless as a clue. ’

Tuttle examined the garment care-
fully without finding anything by which
it might be traced. A thorough search
of the territory around Woodmont failed
to turn up a pistol, and it was believed
that the killer carried the weapon off
with him.

HEADLINE DETECTIVE —
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A DISCARDED OVERCOAT FIT EVERY SUSPECT, BUT CONFETTI

He took a step toward the farmer,
who retreated in the direction of the
door. His hand found the knob. He
turned it, swung the door open and
backed out to the yard. A moment
later he heard the kitchen door bang
shut.

The Murderer Escapes

Logan started to run around to the
front of the building when Lindsley
shouted, “There he is!” Logan saw
the masked man hesitating on the
front porch.

Sighting Lindsley, however, the in-
truder dashed back into the house.
Logan ran back to the rear yard, not
knowing at what instant a fusillade
from the pistol might fell him.

However, the only sound he heard
was the opening of a window on the

door, saw the blood trail led in that
direction.

“Looks bad,” he told Fowler, play-
ing his torch down the steps.

At the bottom of the stairs, in a
crumpled heap, lay Mrs. Chernock.
Even from where they stood the two
police officers could see that her
head had been severely battered and
that the woman probably was dead.

Advancing gingerly down the steps,
avoiding footprints already etched in
the trail of blood, the officers quickly
ascertained that the woman was be-
yond mortal help. Her skull had
been crushed by repeated blows with
a heavy instrument.

tioned little Joseph and Anna, who
were left in Mrs. Logan’s care, along
with the infant.

From the two children, Fowler soon
patched together a story of what had
happened at the Chernock home.

According to Joseph, after Anna
had gone for help, the intruder got
back into the kitchen and grabbed his
mother again.

“Don’t hit me!” she cried. “TI’ll tell
you where the money is. It’s in the
top drawer in the bedroom dresser.”

But the man did not release the
unfortunate woman. Instead he
dragged her into the bedroom with
him, where, as the terrified Joseph

side of the house. ee Bo ae
As he circled the building Logan © -f. > os
saw that the masked man had leaped Ls 1.—The m
from the parlor window and was bolt- “ > SE Se me the Chern
ing across the fields in the direction aS a a a ee side door
of the Woodmont railroad station and = PASTA Seae yee
a dense clump of trees beyond. : age
The farmer raised his shotgun and 2.—A no
| emptied both barrels at the fugitive. who club:
| He saw the man stumble, then scram- is, . children
| ble over a stone wall and disappear
| behind a patch of alders. q d
| A moment later Lindsley was at sail
| Logan’s side. “I think you hit him!” seca 2 pespneemens¥ oner Eli
he cried. “Got any more shells?” % 3 eas et the savoc
Logan shook his head. “No,” he
replied. “And that fellow’s got a nas g Bolic
revolver. I think we'd better wait iaea — oH dered
for the police.” ae peticnammre ope, ee sii wilt
A few minutes later, two cars bear- ie sf ens Ay Bp Reais nei
ing Milford’s Superintendent of Po- PtKe e Bs =
lice James H. Maher, Captain Morti- o."egS :

mer B. Fowler and several officers
pulled up.

Logan gave them a quick picture
of events.

“What’s happened to Mrs. Cher-
nock and the children?” Maher asked
quickly.

Logan looked up in bewilderment.

“Say, I never even saw them in the
house! Maybe you'd better look
around!”

The superintendent, followed by
Fowler, hurriedly pushed into the
kitchen. Raising the shades, they
saw blood in the center of the floor.

At that moment a childish voice
called out from a room off the kitchen.
There they found little Joseph un-
der the bed. The infant was sleep-
ing soundly in a crib.

“Where’s your mother, Joseph?”
the police chief asked.

The 7-year-old boy pointed to the
cellar stairs. “She went down there,”
he told the officers.

Maher, advancing toward the cellar

A few feet away lay a bloodstained
bootjack, a two-foot-long metal ob-
ject with an iron shoe last attached
to one end.

“Here’s the weapon,” Fowler told
his chief. “What murderous blows
a man could deal with this! It prob-
ably weighs 15 pounds.”

The bootjack, a device used for
home cobbling, fitted exactly into the
sharp wounds in the woman’s head.

“Whoever the murderer’ was,”
Maher interposed, “he can’t be far
away. Telephone headquarters and
have them assemble a posse. I’m go-
ing to start searching the woods back
of the Woodmont station.”

Robbery Was Motive

Lindsley took Fowler back to Lo-
gan’s house, where the nearest tele-
phone was located. There, after an
alarm was sounded, Fowler ques-

watched from under-the bed, he ran-
sacked the bureau drawers.

Finding no money, he snarled,
“What are you -doing—trying to lead
me wrong? I want that money—and
right away!” Mrs. Chernock then
murmured that her husband must
have taken the money out of the
drawer. :

“Don’t give me that!” the intruder
rasped. “I know it’s still in the
house. If you don’t tell me right
away, I’ll beat your brains out.”

It was then, Joseph said, that his’
mother told her assailant that the
money was hidden in a tin can on the
pantry shelf. The man released the
woman, went to the pantry and came
back with a roll of bills in one hand.
In the other he carried the heavy
metal bootjack.

“So you were lying to me!” he bel-
lowed. “Okay, Ill fix you!”

HEADLINE DETECTIVE

‘

Metadata

Containers:: Box 8 (2-Documentation of Executions), Folder 6
Resource Type:: Document
Description:: Frank Dusso executed on 1918-06-17 in Connecticut (CT) Carmine Lanzillo executed on 1918-06-17 in Connecticut (CT) Carmine Pisaniello executed on 1918-06-17 in Connecticut (CT)
Rights:: In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted
Date Uploaded:: June 28, 2019

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