New York, A, 1821-1967, Undated

Unconvictable

[Continued from page 43]

ing to find someone who had witnessed
the cutting. No one wanted to volunteer.

From townspeople Verbecken learned
that during the previous month Tony
Lacoce was stabbed and beaten up by
Peter Bastiano, husband of the woman
who ‘had been slashed. Mrs. Bastiano
hac helped in the cutting, people said.
Now Lacoce lay in a paralyzed condition
in the Shamokin hospital.

“It was rumored around town that
Mrs. Bastiano was to be given a slash
across the face as revenge,” one citizen
informed Verbecken. He could tell the
trooper no more.

That night Verbecken made this nota-
tion in his diary: ‘Investigating officers,
myself, Trooper Russell K. Knies, Troop
E., and Charles Densevich, Northumber-
land County detective, are positive Zimo
attacked the woman but doubt if he will
be identified by the victim as it is the
code of the Italian element which seals
their lips even in the face of death.”

At the hospital the trooper found the
woman's face completely covered with
bandages. Zimo was taken to the North-
umberland County jail to await devel-
opments of Mrs. Bastiano’s condition.

In Kulpmont the next day Trooper
Verbecken continued his investigation.

“I saw Zimo running,” a tradesman
said. “As he crossed that small pool
across the road there by the woods some-
thing splashed.”

At the Susquenhanna Coal Company
the trooper borrowed a trench pump.
Methodically he drained out the pool,
but the bottom revealed no knife.

Then .he drove to Pottsville. In that
town he was told Zimo lived without
working, had been picked up as a suspect
in several murder cases but was always
discharged.

On July 26, 1930, Trooper Verbecken
made this entry in his diary: ‘Saw Mrs.
Teresa Bastiano today. She told me she
would see her husband who is in jail in
connection with the Lococe cutting. She
said she would be guided by his advice
on what to do in her own case."

Trooper Verbecken and Knies drove
to the office of Justice of the Peace Joseph
Politza in Kulpmont the night of August
15th. They braked their car before the
office at 7 p. m. and strode into the hear-
ing where Tony Zimo faced a charge of
assault and battery with intent to kill.

Mrs. Bastiano was there ahead of them.
The bandages were off her face but the
deep slash on her face had not healed.
The path of the knife left an angry red
mark. She nodded to the troopers, then
stared straight ahead. Zimo was brought
in. The hearing got underway.

Trooper Verbecken knew there was
just one question which had to be an-
swered to make his case hold water.

“Was this the man?” Mrs. Bastiano
was asked. ,

Later that evening Verbecken made
out his report. It was brief. He wrote:

94

“Tonight Mrs. Téresa Bastiano refused
to identify Zimo and he was discharged
for lack of evidence. Arrived back at
station at 9:30.”

Once again, for the third time, a
woman had given Zimo his freedom.
From 1930 to 1935 the trail of his ac-
tivities grew hazy to the investigating
officials,

Going through the records in the State
Fire Marshal’s office in Harrisburg, Penn-
sylvania, Deputy Lieutenant Fire Mar-
shal Bouse picked up the trail again when
he found the name of Zimo mentioned
in connection with a fire at Kulpmont
in 19385. The papers also showed he
was a suspect in the murder of Carmelo
Luongo at Hazelton, Pennsylvania, in
June, 1935. Zimo was never taken into
custody in connection with this case.

Seven years elapsed. It was a blustery
March night with a biting wind roaring
its way through the town of Kulpmont
when suddenly a thundering detonation
was heard. Residents who had not yet
gone to bed rushed to the windows. They
saw the darkness at the center of the
town hurled back to make way for high,
furious flames.

The fire department sped into action.
Three homes were now ablaze. In the
milling crowd that turned out to watch
the mounting flames one townsman, who
had been passing the location just. as the
explosion occurred, asked an acquaint-
ance who stood shivering in the wind:
“Did you see him?’

“Who?”

“The man running covered with
flames.”

“No! Who was he?”

“Couldn’t tell.’ Even his face looked
like it-was on fire and he was waving his
arms like windmills.”

The flames had died to embers and
clouds of steam had replaced the billow-
ing smoke when Special Agent Robert
Knight of the Board of Fire Underwriters
heard about the flame-covered man. No
one had recognized him. He'd run off
in the direction of Pottsville, Kulpmont
residents thought.

Careful check with all the doctors in
the area revealed no man being treated
for burns the night of March 6, 1942.
Perhaps the man had rolled himself in
some snow drifts outside of town to put
out the flames, lay there and later frozen
to death. If that was true his body might
be found in the spring. Knight con-

. sidered the theory briefly and rejected it.

Then in a few days he learned about a
man in a suburb of Pottsville who was
very sick but refused to go to a doctor or
let one see him.

“T want to see that man,” Knight de-
clared. He took state police with him, to
a boarding house at 167 East Cadbury
Street, Palo Alto.

“He will see no one,” a woman told
them at the door.

“He must see us,” Knight said. She
led the way to a back bedroom at the
end of the hall.

The woman knocked. Inside a voice,
like a frog croaking, protested: “Go
away.”

The door swung slowly open. In the

dimly lighted room Knight saw what
looked like the head and shoulders of an
ebony statue lying against a soiled white

illow. Grotesquely protruding like
small half burned logs, two arms sprawled
on the counterpane.

A doctor was called.

“This man may die,” he said.

Removed to the Shamokin state hos-
pital where he might receive competent
medical care, the man was guarded by
state police. He said his name was Santo
Andidero. He also admitted he had heen
known as Tony Zimo.

That night, March 11, 1942, Special
Agent Knight wrote to Ted Schremp in
Utica:

“He was in bed with third-degree
burns when we found him. My firm be-
lief is that the subject is a professional
torch and has not confined his activities
to the anthracite regions of Pennsylvania.
During the pees 10 years there have been
more than fifty incendiary fires in Kulp-
mont, Mt.-Carmel and Shamokin. The
Italians involved are all from the Prov-
ince of Calabria and so is Andidero. I
am forwarding four Utica addresses
found in his diary which should be
checked.”

Knight's letter was the first in a long
series of communications which he and
Schremp exchanged over the period of
the next two years.

Upon its receipt Schremp drove to po-
lice headquarters in Utica, talked with
Deputy Chief Dennis Jankiewicz.

“I've got news of a ghost,”’ Schremp
told him.

In the files at our police headquarters
they found that Andidero had been in-
dicted by the October, 1924, grand jury
for the shooting of DelGigante in Proctor
Park.

Meanwhile the FBI became interested
in Andidero. On March 30, 1942, Sgt.
W. A. Bader, officer in charge of the
Pennsylvania Motor Police, Shamokin,
was informed the Federal Bureau of In-
vestigation held a presidential warrant
for Andidero as an enemy alien. It was
sent to Bader for execution. State police
decided to detain serving the warrant
until the matter of the Kulpmont fire
had been cleared up.

In mid-April, 1942, Knight went to
talk with Andidero at the Shamokin
Hospital. Andidero didn’t want to talk.
After the visit Knight wrote Schremp in
Utica: “The appearance of his face is
changing and his ears may drop off.”

One of the addresses in the list of four
which Knight sent Schremp led him to
the home of Mrs. Antoinette Catrupe,
764 Mary street. It was at this point I
entered the case on which so many offi-
cials had worked. I went to see Mrs.
Catrupe.

“Andidero is my brother,” she told me.

I asked her to come to police head-
quarters. She identified pictures of her
brother and other photographs which
Knight had found at Andidero’s board-
ing house and sent on to Schremp.

“T'm frankly surprised about the sister
in Utica,” Knight wrote Schremp. ‘‘Andi-
dero has told me on numerous occasions

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he had no relatives in the United States.”

Further check showed Andidero deter-
mined to erase all official connection with
Utica; he had made an application for a
federal certificate of identification in
which he did not mention any relatives
in the United States. He listed only two
sisters and two brothers in Calabria.

Later Knight wrote Schremp: “I’m
checking on his female associates in this
area.” Two days afterwards he followed
with this information: “I've found before
the fire he was sleeping quite regularly
with a married woman and at the same
time was courting:a single girl.”

Then the grand jury of Northumber-
land County on April 28, 1942, returned
a true bill for arson against Andidero
and another man, Salvatore Coronitti, in
connection with the fire at Kulpmont.
Almost a year later Coronitti was tried
and found guilty in Sunbury, Pennsyl-
vania, and on April 13, 1943, he was
called before County Judge Herbert W.
Cummings.

“I sentence you to 10 to 20 years in
Eastern State Penitentiary,” the judge
said.

But Andidero had not stood trial with
him. He was still in the Sunbury jail.

“He has these burns,” Robert Fortney,
district. attorney of Northumberland
County conceded, “but can we prove
where he got them?”

Andidero was not telling. It is 28 miles
from Kulpmont to Palo Alto. No one
could be found who could testify he had
seen Andidero in Kulpmont the night
of March 6, 1942. A number saw the
flame-covered man. No one could identify
him.

** Always they are holding me for some-
thing I have not done,” Andidero com-
plained to the jailer at Sunbury. “I was
not there. I got these burns elsewhere
but that is my business.”

Knight resolved to continue his inves-
tigation. He wrote Schremp in Utica:
“He is still in jail in Sunbury but I doubt
if the man he shot in Utica could identify
this burned and scarred Andidero.”

I sat with Deputy Chief Jankiewicz
when he remarked to Oneida County
District Attorney Bastow! ‘Well, if they
can't use Andidero in Pennsylvania I
think we can.”

“I'm not so sure,” the district attorney
replied. “Andidero seems to be leading
a charmed life. I doubt if we could break
the charm and get a conviction for his
shooting DelGigante.”

A few days later Bastow was commis:
sioned and went into the armed services.
Dan T. Burke became acting district
attorney. Jankiewicz conferred with him.
The two went over the case.

“Here’s a man who seems to have the
inside track with luck,” Burke objected.
“He steals a valuable car and no one will
prosecute. He's tried for murder and
acquitted. He’s supposed to have stabbed
and disfigured a woman for life and she
will not identify him. He’s a suspect in a
number of other murders, and he nearly
dies of burns a few miles from an incen-
diary fire but he can’t be linked with it.
I'll try it but it looks doubtful.”

-)

But Burke didn’t have a chance to try.
His time as acting district attorney ran
out before any action was taken.

Robert Morris was the next acting
district attorney.

“Bring that man back to Utica,” the
red-headed prosecutor insisted. “I don’t
give a damn how much luck he’s had.
It’s about time he gets some justice.”

Deputy Jankiewicz called me in. He
turned over to me all the material that
had been dug up by Grieco and Grande,
the case file, the correspondence and
memorandums on the work done by De-
tective Smith in Pennsylvania, Trooper
Verbecken and the special agents, Knight
and Schremp.

“Now we ought to have a talk with
DelGigante,” the deputy said. “Invite
him over for a friendly chat.”

To our consternation DelGigante had
vanished. I learned he'd left town years
before and no one seemed to know
where.

With Andidero so successful in evading
any charges which might be lodged
against him we felt we needed to show

“sight,

sigl
gor

very definitely he'd been in town the
night DelGigante insisted he shot him.

Going to the home of Andidero’s sister,
Mrs. Patsy Catrupe, I was doubtful if she
would give us much more help. To my
surprise she was co-operative.

She recalled that 20 years ago on the
night of the shooting Andidero had been
to her home.

“After he had left,” she said, “some
police officers came to the house and
asked for him. I said he was out so they
searched his room, stayed there half an
hour, looked in his trunk and then left.”

I was in for another surprise when she
told me by what a narrow margin De-
tectives Grieco and Grande missed him.
In a notarized statement she told me:
“Then in a few minutes after the police
had gone Santo came back home, took off
his coat and I asked him what he had
done to make the police look for him.”

‘Didn’t do anything,” he said.

Her brother walked around the kitchen
nervously and started to leave again.

“Where are you going,” she asked him,
“in case they come back?”

“T’ll be in the saloon at Elizabeth and
Albany,” he answered.

“He left the house that night and never

came back,” the sister said. She also
told me Santo and her husband, Patsy,
whose body had been found floating in
the canal in 1923 frequently visited at the
home of a woman named Felicia on
Lansing street.

“Would she come to the trial and will-
ingly testify?” I asked her.

“Certainly,” she told me.

So much had been said about the
beauty of the woman named Felicia, I
was intrigued. I went to the Lansing
Street address given me by Mrs. Catrupe
but found the woman had moved away
years ago.

While the hunch she and Andidero
might throw light on the possible solu-
tion of his brother-in-law’s murder still
bothered me, I finally decided it was
better to concentrate on the DelGigante
case. We had concrete evidence here
which I hoped even the slippery Andi-
dero could not circumvent.

On January 4, 1944, with Sheriff Wil-
liams I went to Sunbury, Pennsylvania, to
get Andidero.

The day of the trial, February 16,
1944, all of us in the police department
had our fingers crossed. Andidero em-
ea Matthew Ogonowski, a brilliant

tica attorney. We wondered what de-
fense he would present.

Detective John Grande, the first man
to be assigned to the case back in 1924,
sat beside me.

“Everybody's got gray hair now,” he
whispered as he glanced around the room.

Andidero sat with a look of grim de-
fiance on his lips. The charge was read:
Assault, first degree, and robbery. The
jury was drawn. Finally the names were
placed before County Judge Ezra Hana-
gan. A broad confident grin covered
Andidero’s face.

I'm no reader of minds but I knew
what Andidero was thinking. It took the
tuck out of me. There were two women
on this jury and there’d been two on the
jury which acquitted him of the murder
charge. Agnes Sanger of Utica.and Ruth
Linstruth of Oneida were in the jury box.
I was sure Andidero knew neither one
but nevertheless I wished they were not
there.

DelGigante took the stand and told the
story he’d previously told me—that Andi-
dero’ whom he thought was his friend
had shot him, took his watch and three
dollars. The coroner testified. The under-
writer’s agents took the stand. Then
Andidero’s own sister began her testi-
mony when a recess was called.

The witnesses straggled back in after
the rest period. Suddenly Ogonowski,
Andidero’s attorney, cleared his throat.
Then I saw him leading Santo up to the
bench.

I could hardly believe my ears.

“My client wants to plead guilty to the
robbery charge,” he was saying.

When sentence was pronounced we
detectives sent this telegram to District
Attorney Bastow, serving as an army
captain in Washington:

The unconvictable Santo Andidero
sentenced to serve ten to twenty years in
Attica.

95

— - reer eee


Ting the remains of Jiyer Andre was hand-

hady partly fallen in, b

eee ~.

MAJOR ANDRE'S BONES.

Fhe following account of the disinter-

edus by an eye witness, accompanied by
is request to publish the same,

** "Pais event took place at ‘Tappan, on
Friday, 10th inst. at 1 P.M. ataidst a con,
siderable concourse of ladies and. gentle-
Inan that assembled to7witness this inter:
esting ceremony.  ‘I'h@® British Consul.
with several gentlemen, accompanied by
the proprietor ef the round and his labor-
er, Counnenced their operations at TL’
clock, by removing the heap of luvoxe
stones that surrounded and partly covcred
the grave. Great caution was observed
in taking yp a small peach tree that was
growing oul of the vrave, as the Consul
stated hisantention of seuding it to his Mae.
jesty to be pliced in one of the royal gar-
dens. Cousiderable wixicty was felt least
the coflin would not be ound, as various
rumors existed of its having been removed
INLAY Yerws azo. However,. when at the
depth of three feet, the luborers came to |
it. The lid was broken in the centre and. |

ut Was kept. up by
resiing outhe scull. ‘he lid being raised,
the skeleton of the brave Andre appeared
entire ; bone to bone, each in its place,
without a yesling of any other part of his
remuins, save some of his hair, which ap-
peared in sinall tufis ; and the oaly part
of thy dress was the leather, string which
tied it. . As soon as the curiosity of: the
spectators wag ‘gratiffeds a lurge circle was
formsd,. when. Mr, Exeleso, the under-
taker, with his assistants, uncover:d_ the
sarcophagus, into which the remntins were
carefully 5 inoved=-this supet) depository,
in imitationMto those used in Europe, for
the renrun#of the illustrious dead, was |
inide by Ezzleso, of Broadway, of muhog-
any, the pannels covered with rich crim-
son velvet, surroandedby gold bordering:
the rings of dep burnisped gold, the pan-
nel also crimson velvet, edged with gold,
the inside lined with lack velvet, the’
whole supparted by fou gilt balls. ©
- The sarcophagua with the remains have
been removed .on board ,his Majesty's
Packet, where, it ig undars Od, as soon’ as
soms repajrs on bo:rd are completed, an.
opportunity will be. afforded of viewing it.

‘ \» ‘ oy : Eve. Post.


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fo QG we a? fiygeerr Mew fore om ofl IF0. Thit accacut "y Jthex fm Me.
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t lock me up
it. Or can

ou know the
Byrne intro-
round?”
George Mil-
: replied.

“What do you know about him?”

The other shrugged and said he knew
very little. He had been out with him
several times and once dropped him off in
front of the house where he lived. Miller
was very friendly with Byrne and had even
advanced him the money to purchase the
Hudson.

McDermott handed Mason the torn piece
of paper he had found in the restaurant.
“What’s this?” he asked.

“A piece of paper with some initials and.

numbers on it,’ was the prompt reply.

“Did you ever win a bet?” the Lieutenant
offered.

Mason sat upright in his chair. “That’s
right. This could be part of a bookie’s pay-
off sheet.”

He was taken to another room while his
alibi was checked.

McDermott summoned his detectives.
“Bring in Miller,” he directed. The sleuths
returned to Brooklyn to the rooming house
on Stuyvesant Avenue where Mason said
he had driven the bookmaker. :

“Where is Miller’s room?” Detective De-
very asked the landlady. :

“TI have no Miller living here,” she re-
plied.

“Did someone move here about two
months ago?”

“Oh, that’s George Appel,” she replied.
“His room is on the third floor.”

The officers silently ascended the three
flights and Devery quickly swung open the
door. A hawk-nosed man with flaring ears
stood in the center of the small room. He
stepped back toward the bed and suddenly
dove for the pillow. Devery leaped at the
same time and sent him reeling to the floor.
Under the pillow was a .38 caliber revolver.

The detectives searched the room. In a
suitcase, Hurton found part of a roll of
picture wire. Whitton discovered a pearl
and diamond tiepin in a dresser drawer.
They telephoned the station house.

“Bring in Byrne,” Lieutenant McDermott
directed an officer.

“How did you make out?” Byrne inquired
eagerly as he entered the office.

“We've cracked the case, thanks to you,”
responded the Lieutenant.

Byrne smiled broadly. “I’m glad to hear
1U;7

“I’m placing you under arrest for the mur-
der of Lieutenant Kemmer,’ McDermott
continued.

The color drained from the captive’s face.
“What do you mean?” he asked in a subdued
voice.

“You were too smart for your own good,”
the Lieutenant said. He revealed that Byrne
had dropped the first hint when he used
the jargon familiar to horse players. Mc-
Dermott had felt that the torn slip of paper
he found in the restaurant had dropped
from someone’s pocket during the struggle,
but the paper meant nothing to him at first.
He began to think it might be part of a
payoff sheet and knew that Byrne should
have recognized it as such. When the sus-
pect played dumb, the Lieutenant had delib-
erately suggested to him that his car
might have been stolén. His suspicions were
confirmed when Byrne leaped at the chance
and told the story about his auto being
moved from the tree.

“When I heard that Mason had left his
house early I knew I was right,” McDer-
mott continued. ‘You must have seen him
leave, because you were out then yourself
on your way to pick up your partner and
pull the stickup. You saw him, but you did
not know that he had a real alibi. He was
working and not job hunting.”

“You have me wrong, ” the prisoner in-
sisted.

“Miller is being brought in now,” the
Lieutenant told him.

Byrne flinched as if he had been struck.
“T didn’t shoot him,” he insisted. “I was

sitting in the car. I didn’t have a gun.” He
gulped and stopped.

“Better tell the whole story from the
beginning,” he was advised.

Byrne said that he and Miller arrived at
the restaurant shortly after seven o’clock.
Miller opened the door where they knew
Lieutenant Kemmer was waiting.

“It was dark, so he didn’t.see us when he
first came in,” the‘ confession detailed.
“When he saw Miller with the gun in his
hand, he lunged for him. I ran out while
they were struggling and got into the car.
A little while later, Miller ran out and said
he had to give it to him. I drove Miller to
his room and he threw the money on the
bed. He had blood on his hands. After he
washed himself he changed his shirt, lit a
cigar and counted the money. He said it
was too bad we had to waste our time on a
job like that.”

The confession was completed by the time
the detectives arrived with Miller. _When
the bookmaker was confronted with the
statement, he shrugged and said, “You win.”
He said his real name was Appel. Even
Byrne thought his name was Miller. His
fingerprint record showed that he had been
arrested for holding up a jewelry store at
Broadway and 94th Street and was sen-
tenced to from four to ten years in Sing
Sing. He had been released on probation
less than a year before.

He admitted that he was wanted for violat-

ing parole. He related the events in a calm,

unemotional voice. He said he held the gun
only a few inches away from Kemmer as he
fired the three shots into the Lieutenant’s
body. After the murder, he went to a restau-
rant, ate a hearty breakfast, visited a barber
shop and spent the afternoon at'a movie.

Appel revealed that he had gone to Chi-
cago after his release from prison to get a
gangster syndicate in that city to finance
him as a bookmaker. He said some lucky
players had almost cleaned him out and
he teamed with Byrne and committed sev-
eral robberies.

“Why did you pick this particular restau-
rant?” McDermott asked him. “It’s only a
few blocks from the station house and most
of us eat there.”

“That’s the reason,” the other calmly
replied. “I was trying to organize a stickup
mob and I knew if I could pull off this job,
I wouldn’t have any trouble getting good
men to come in with me. I was trying to
parlay this stickup into a real heist mob,
instead I parlayed into murder.”

On December 28th, 1927, six days after the
slaying, both men were indicted for first-
degree murder, and less than a month later
were placed on trial. On January 14th, 1928,
Appel was found guilty of first-degree mur-
der. During the trial, Byrne freely admitted
taking part in the robbery, but insisted that
he had nothing to do with the shooting. The
jury was unable to reach a’verdict in his
case. Elated at escaping the chair, he pleaded
guilty to second-degree murder.

Two days later both men appeared for
sentence. Appel had shown no trace of
emotion during his trial. Asked if he had
anything to say, after glancing at Byrne;
who had tried to shoulder all responsibility
for the murder on him, he replied, “My
name is Appel and I’m the guy that’s get-
ting baked.” He then was sentenced to die
in the electric chair.

County Judge Frank Adel sentenced
Byrne to serve a term of from fifteen to
twenty years for the robbery. “At the
completion of that term, you then shall be-
gin to serve an additional sentence of twenty
years to life for the killing of Lieutenant
Kemmer,” the Court directed.

Appel was executed at Sing Sing on Au-
gust 9th, 1928.

Nore: The names of Johnny Mason and
Dorothy Slade are fictitious to protect the
identity.of two. innocent persons—Eb.

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that December morning, three days before Christ-
mas. In the Glendale section of the Long Island
borough of Queens, Charles Schneider unlocked the
restaurant at Halleck Avenue and Old Fresh Pond
Road and entered to begin his chores as porter. The
hands on the wall clock above the counter pointed to 7.

At 7:15 Clemens Heise, the cook, walked into the
_ kitchen. The porter joined him there for a cup of coffee
and they were talking when they heard the side door
open and shut once more. Schneider went out to in-
vestigate and found two men seated at a table.

“We don’t open until 8,” he told the pair. “Nothing’s
ready: yet.”

“How about a shot of rye?” asked one, a husky fellow
with large ears. “We been doin’ the town all night.”
m “No dice,” replied the porter. “Don’t serve liquor

ere.’

“Yeah?” challenged the smaller man. “What you got
to drink, then?”

“Just coffee,” said Schneider. “Okay?”

“No!” roared the big man. He rose and whipped out
a revolver. “This is a stickup! Open that safe in the
corner!”

The porter held his arms high. “It is open,” he said
weakly. “But there’s nothing in it.”

“Let’s lock the door first,” suggested the younger
robber, who held his right hand thrust deep in an over-
coat pocket. This done, the bandits herded Heise and
Schneider into the kitchen. One produced a roll of wire
from his pocket, bound the cook and porter hand and
foot and stuffed dishtowels into their mouths as gags.

As the porter had said, the safe contained not ing
except a box of cigars, but the robbers took that, curs-
ing their luck. They opened the cash register and re-
moved $25 in bills and change. Disappointed at their
small haul, the pair turned to leave.

Heavy pounding on the side door stopped them. It
was clear they were trapped unless the newcomer could
be lured inside and tied up with the others.

“Open up, Clemens!” a deep voice bellowed outside.
‘Tm hungry!”

The big gunman crept softly to the door, turned the
key and opened it. He stood aside as a big man came
in, clad in a dark overcoat with the collar turned up.

“Cold this morning!” he remarked, shaking open his
coat and revealing the blue of his police uniform.

The two strangers did not reply and he studied them
curiously, noting also that his friends, the cook and
porter, were nowhere in sight. In a flash, he sensed
the situation and started toward the pair.

The big robber whipped out his gun and fired point-
blank. The slug caught the policeman in the stomach,
but he kept on coming and closed his arms around the
gunman. :

They fell to the floor and wrestled desperately across
the room. As the younger gunman fled to the street,
the battlers overturned tables and chairs and splintered
a wooden partition.

But the policeman was weakening from loss of blood.
As he reeled backward from a blow, the remaining
bandit fired twice again. The bluecoat slumped to the
floor, his neck pierced by one bullet and his jaw shat-

pred by the other, as his assailant dashed away.

With magnificent courage Lieutenant Edward

4 : A LIGHT SNOW blanketed New York City early .

‘¢, wh, elec. WY (Queens

PEER SIRS: Bre eR marron

eS ty

27

Be ft BS a ats A ae
Eddie Byrne learned that the "easy
money" racket pays off in big num-
bers, all right. He's still wear-
ing one of them in Sing Sing prison.

By the time he saw the fix he
was in, brave Lieutenant Edward

Kemmer never had a chance,

although he waded into dobattle.

es a
eagcaswi i,

Lieutenant Michael McDermott
stooped over his fallen com-
rade.
and I'll do mine," he prom.sed.

"You did your part Ed,.

Kemmer pulled himself to his feet and
staggered to the door, tugging at the
gun he was too weak to draw. But he
managed to get out his notebook with its
pencil attached, and started to copy the
license number of the car he saw roar-
ing away from the curb with two men in
the front seat.

His pencil still was moving as he
dropped to the floor again, blood
streaming from his mouth and neck.

Lead On Getaway Car

He was“still alive but unconscious
minutes later when his fellow officers,
summoned by neighbors who heard the
gunfire, arrived from the Glendale
station house two blocks away.

Detective Lieutenant Michael. J. Mc-
Dermott knelt beside his wounded col-
league and studied the wavering figures
in the notebook: 6N-53-

“You did your part, ” he said
earnestly. “I’ll do mine. V’ll get him.”

Kemmer’s eyelids flickered and closed
again. If he heard or sensed what his
friend said, he could not reply. When
the ambulance arrived from Wyckoff
Heights Hospital he was dead. It was
7:30 a.M.—the very time when he was to
have reported for desk duty at the
Glendale station, and just a half-hour
after he had kissed his wife goodbye in
their Richmond Hill home. It would be
a sad Christmas for the Kemmer fam-
ily, McDermott knew.

The Lieutenant turned to Detective
William Carter of the homicide squad,
showing him the victim’s notebook. “Ed
did the best he could, but he blacked out
before he could copy down the final
numerals of the license number. That’s
going to make it harder for us to trace
the getaway car. Just how many autos
around here are registered under
‘6N-53-’ I don’t know, but thers
ably are plenty.”

“We'll simply have to check on all of
them,” observed Carter.

Just then Patrolman John J., Dough-
erty, on reserve at the Glendale station,
stepped up to Lieutenant McDermott
with valuable information.

minutes earlier when an angry citizen
buttonholed him to report that his car
had been struck by another machine a
block away from the restaurant.

The motorist knew nothing of the
fatal holdup, but was outraged by the
fact that the other car failed to stop
after smashing his fender. It all hap-
pened so fast he failed to get the license
number, but he noted that the car was
a brown Hudson coach and that two
men were in the front seat.

“Good!’”’? snapped McDermott.
“There’s not much doubt that was the
getaway car. Carter, call the station and
have headquarters send out an alarm
for a brown Hudson with a damaged
fender and a license number starting
with ‘6N-53-’.”

The fingerprint men dusted every
object where the killers might have
left their prints, but developed nothing
usable, Six other detectives were going
over the place inch by inch. This search
turned up four possible clues.

There was the wire with which the

. of paper found under a table

a) robe

He had:
been returning from breakfast a few .

porter and the cook were bound. There
was a gray snap-brim hat, found
crumpled in a corner, which the porter
identified as having been worn by the
taller robber and undoubtedly lost in
the struggle with Kemmer. There was
a small fragment of cloth wedged in a
crack in the partition damaged by the
gunman and the victim as they wrestled.
Since it had not come from Kemmer’s
coat it must have been torn from the
gunman’s. Finally there were two slips
in the
kitchen, each bearing the notation,
“Sweet Bud 1 ,

McDermott sat down at a cleared

table in the dining room with Carter ,

and spread the clues out before him.

“This wire,” he told Carter, who was
taking notes, “is fine copper, with a silk
covering—the kind used in radio work.
That indicates, I’d say, that the fellow
who had it was a radio service man or
an electrician, possibly both.”

“Sounds _ logical,” agreed Carter.
“Bow about the other things?”

“This bit of cloth,” said McDermott,
holding up the torn fragment, “may be
very helpful. Get it over to the labora-
tory boys right away. In a little while
they’ll be able to tell us what kind of a
coat the big mug was wearing—and
maybe even more about him.”

The lieutenant next fingered the
crumpled hat. It was a cheap model,
size 714, and on the sweatband was
stamped in gilt letters, “DeLuxe Cafe-
teria Hat Store, Chicago.”

“J’m not so hopeful about this,” Mc-
Dermott confessed, “even though it in-
dicates the big man has been in the
Windy City. The shop probably has a
large daily turnover and doesn’t even
write the customer’s names on sales

_ slips. But wire the Chicago police any-

way and ask them to check it.”

Who Bet On Sweet Bud?

The clue that really intrigued the
lieutenant was that of the two slips of
paper bearing what might seem to the
uninitiated mysterious markings. But
to McDermott the slips obviously were
records of horse race bets.

“It appears,” he observed, “that two
persons bet $10 each on Sweet Bud to
win. Our job is to find out who put up
the money and who took the bet.”

Carter was studying the morning
paper’s sports pages. “This is interest-
ing, chief,” he said, handing the. paper
to McDermott. “Sweet Bud won yes-
terday at Hialeah. He was a long shot
and paid off 40 to 1!”

The lieutenant whistled. “That’s $800
the bettor who made these slips had
coming. If the bookie is in deep enough,
he’s liable to go broke paying off.”

There remained the question of
whether these slips had been dropped
by the robbers. McDermott questioned
Heise, and learned the cook had seen
something flutter to the floor when the
big man pulled out a pack of cigarettes
after binding them with the wire.

It was possible, the officers decided,
that one or both of the robbers had
booked the bets and now needed money
badly to pay off. So they chose a holdup
as the means of raising it.

Carter’s alert eyes spotted a small

object imbedded
counter. He priec
a penknife and h:
ant. It wa
heft and siz
“This mu
Ed Kemmer'’s 1m
ambulance surge
still in his body.
Carter put the
dispatch to Cent
bit of cloth for }
the lieutenant h:
dale station.
Other detectiv«
der to the rogue
to look at pictur
file. But the rest
able to identify
McDermott tel
bureau and ask:
and addresses
Hudson coach ¥
beginning “6N.”
An hour later
reached the liev
time he got the
experts on_the
both eagerly.
There were e
registered in @
cense numbers
these, one was
of Samuel Tal
blacks from th
tenant Kemme:
Equally signi
port, to the effec
Kemmer was ‘
in the holdup «
weeks earlier,
fired a wild sh
ter. The delic
Pond Road o
scene of Kemi
“That confir
McDermott to
restaurant wé
someone arou!
delicatessen jo
this neighbor
“But what

guy. But his
man who pick
heist. But let
and see what

The investi;
dress, which f
The landlady,
of McDermott
bot was out.
whose addres
ingly furnishe

Blond

The officer:
they pulled u
Hudson coac!
at the curb jt

They were
woman who
Talbot and
While Carte
escorted Mc]

Talbot, a:
wrinkles act
at a_ table
blonde with
mascaraed b
her to be a:

Identifyins
would like t:
bot declare:
knowing wi
grin on his :
and settled
tenent had

«Cc

*

ound. There
hat, found
h the porter
vorn by the
edly lost in
There was
vedged in a
iged by the
ey wrestled.
1 Kemmer’s
n from the
re two slips
able in the

e notation,

a cleared
vith Carter
fore him.
‘Tr, who was
with a silk
radio work.
the fellow
‘ice man or

od , Carter.
UcDermott,
it, “may be
the labora-
little while
it kind of a
aring—and

gered the
sap model,
tband was
suxe Cafe-

.Mc-

it in-
-en in the
ably has a
esn’t even
3 on sales
rolice any-
¢”

ud?

‘igued the
vo slips of
‘em to the
ings. But
ously were

“that two’

et Bud to
‘ho put up
: bet.”
morning
3 interest-
the. paper
won yes~
long shot

“hat’s $800
slips had

estion of
1 dropped
juestioned
had seen
when the
cigarettes
wire.

3 decided,
»bers had
ed money
>a holdup

T =

object imbedded in the floor near the
counter. He pried it out of the wood with
a penknife and held it up for the lieuten-
ant. It was a flattened bullet which, by
heft and size, appeared to be of .32-caliber.

“This must be the slug that went through
Ed Kemmer’s neck,” Carter said. “The
ambulance surgeon said the others were
still in his body.”

Carter put the slug in an envelope for
dispatch to Centre Street along with the
bit of cloth for lab analysis. Then he and
the lieutenant headed back to the Glen-
dale station.

Other detectives took Heise and Schnei-
der to the rogues’ gallery at headquarters
to look at pictures of known criminals on
file. But the restaurant employes were un-
able to identify either ‘robber.

McDermott telephoned the motor vehicle
bureau and asked for a list of the names
and addresses of all persons owning a
Hudson coach with a license in the series
beginning “6N.”

An hour later the requested information
reached the lieutenant. At about the same
time he got the report from the ballistics
experts on the slug. McDermott received
both eagerly.

There were exactly nine Hudson coaches
registered in Greater New York under li-
cense numbers beginning with “6N.” Of
these, one was registered under the name
of Samuel Talbot, who lived only two
blocks from the restaurant where Lieu-
tenant Kemmer. was slain! os

Equally significant was the ballistics re-
port, to the effect that the gun with which
Kemmer was slain was the weapon used
in the holdup of a delicatessen some three
weeks earlier, in which the robber had
fired a wild shot that lodged in the coun-
ter. The delicatessen was on Old Fresh
Pond Road only four blocks from the
scene of Kemmer’s murder!

“That confirms what I had suspected,”
McDermott told Detective Carter. “The
restaurant was cased and fingered by
someone around here, who also set up the
delicatessen job. The fingerman is right in
this neighborhood.” :

“But what about that hat from Chi-
cago?” Carter asked. “Wouldn’t it indicate
out-of-town talent?”

“Sure,” nodded the lieutenant. “The big
guy. But his partner probably is a local
man who picked the place and time of the
heist. But let’s pay a visit to Sam Talbot’
and see what he has to say for himself.”

The investigators drove to Talbot’s ad-
dress, which proved to be a rooming house.
The landlady, obviously upset by the sight
of McDermott’s gold shield, told them Tal-
bot was out, most likely to see his girl,
whose address down the street she oblig-
ingly furnished.

Blonde Doesn't Like Cops

The officers: were encouraged to see, as
they pulled up at the girl’s house, a brown
Hudson coach with a “6N” license parked
at the curb just ahead of them. ;

They were met at the door by an elderly
woman who informed them that Sam
Talbot and his girl were having coffee.
While Carter waited outside, the woman
escorted McDermott back to the kitchen.

Talbot, a stocky young man with deep
wrinkles across his forehead, was seated
at a table facing a curvaceous young
blonde with vermillion lips and heavily
mascaraed blue eyes. The lieutenant took
her to be a showgirl.

Identifying himself, McDermott said he
would like to ask a few questions and Tal-
bot declared himself agreeable, with a
knowing wink at the blonde. There was a
grin on his round face as he lit a cigarette
and settled back to hear what the lieu-
tenent had to say. The girl got up and

(Continued on page 64)

M HOW GOOD a detective would you
make? Test yourself in this game for
hobbyists in the technique of crime detec-
tion and law enforcement. Each of the
following .brain teasers counts ten points.
A score of 90 makes you a chief; if you
beat 70 you're still as good as a deputy.
With 60 you’ll qualify as a rookie cop.

1. In underworld argot neither beef, fish,

The terms represent certain aspects of the
hazardous business of living on the wrong
side of the law. Can you match these ex-
pressions with their proper meanings as
any mobster can?

(a) beef ..... $1 bill

(b) fish ...... complaint to the police
(c) spud ..... hotel room

(d) kipper ... counterfeit money swindle

2. “So,” Police Surgeon Hartley told the
suspect, “you say you’re not Jack Hanscom
—that you never worked in a coal mine.
Well, we can check that, my boy.” And the
doctor inserted the rubber tube of a syringe
into the suspect’s right ear. Why?

(a) To examine the ear wax for par-
ticles of coal dust :

(b) This is a routine procedure in prep-
aration of a suspect for a lie-detector test.

3. Detectives generally have a _phe-
nomenal memory for names as well as
faces. Veteran investigators the country
over remember “Ice-Wagon” Connors,
Basil “The Owl” Banghart, “Dutch Louie”
Schmidt and “Hillbilly” Costner as hench-
men of notorious gangster:

(a) John Dillinger

(b) Roger Touhy

(c) Al Capone

(d) Kate “Ma” Barker

“we've picked up ‘Hairy’ Halsey and we’re
holding him for extradition.” It is clear
from the inspector’s statement that the
prisoner in question is being held for:

(a) fraud while impersonating a police
officer f

(b) transferral to the authorities of an-
cther jurisdiction

(d) questioning as a suspect in a local
crime

5. It has been the experience of police
officers everywhere that persons of certain
ages make more reliable witnesses than
other observers. The most detailed and
accurate testimony generally comes from
eyewitnesses: .

(a) 14 or 15 years ‘old
(b) 34 or 35 years old
(c) 54 or 55 years old

6. A headquarters detective assigned to

“kipper nor spud has reference to victuals.

4. “Yes,” Inspector Gormley | started,-

(c) kidnaping a child under ten years old:

the surveillance of a dope peddler’s apart- -

ment overhears via a planted dictograph
four addicts, each requesting his own
“medicine.” ‘A sniffs cocaine; B is addicted
td heroin; .C. smokes opiym, D marijuana.
Each customer asks for his drug in the
vernacular. Can you rearrange their in-
oo requests as the peddler is about
to do? :

(a) mud, pin yen......... cocaine
(b) snow, sleigh ride..... marihuana
(6) CORR ED cbs iia ia Sas it opium
(d) reefers, got-buts ..... heroin

7.. What is wrong with this statement?
A qualified toxicologist can usually deter-
mine within 24 hours after examining the
vital organs removed from a_ homicidal
poisoning victim precisely what poison was
the cause of death.

(a) Such a determination generally
takes several weeks.

(b) The toxicologist can’t get an answer
just from the vital organs; he needs the
entire body. . °

8. “Limpy” Wendell and “Sticky” Dick-
son meet on the street and each learns that
the other is still engaged in his previous

‘means of livelihood. Limpy, it turns out, is

still “on the grift,”. while Sticky is con-
tinuing as ever “in the heavy rackets.”
Which of the pair of chatting cons is the
confidence man living by his wits and
which the stickup artist and sometime
safecracker?

9. Police Reporters Hobson of the Herald
and Patch of the American are in argu-
ment as to whether it is possible for a tear
gas pen—the type that clips to a vest
pocket—to fire a lethal bullet. Hobson says
yes—Patch,-no. Which do you think is

‘right? we

10. Do you know this man? On the first
day of summer 1947, as he relaxed on the
downy cushions of a luxurious Beverly
Hills living room sofa, he was X-ed out by
six slugs from an Army-type carbine. In
1939 he (was
only 34 when
Federal au-
thorities iden-

tified him as
one of New
York City’s

“Big Six” with
a finger in
crime pies from
coast to coast.
His reputation
was already
made at the
age of 26 as
boss of a no-
torious torpedo mob. He was arrested
over the years for narcotic law. violations,
for murder, for rape. None of the charges
stuck; he never saw a day behind bars.
He started out with the moniker “Bug;
later it was softened to “Bugsy” .. .
(Answers on page 50)


ted identifica-
axi, with that
‘s.”? he added

ackie within a
“A chap named
ind in his cab
th Street, which
rom here.” He
“The last one
yman’s belt is a
1 for somebody
ith him.”
y was a woman
in the cab,” De-

ntified by the
senger compart-
d Murphy. This

INGE
ENCE

minal cases some-
strangest forms.
man in Sydney,
irged with assault
i the evidence in
iis father-in-law’s

o investigation of
rtland, Maine, re-
e intruder had
eese and left the
eeth. In court a
that the tooth
vith those of a
suspect. The boy

cases have indi-
ssful thieves will
re careful about
its. Last year in

Victim’s cryptic note had mentioned
“scene above. “It’s a good spot for a
~ murder,” agreed officers, examining it

| was confirmed by Patrick Sheerin,
» owner of the cab, who had been brought -

to the scene by police. The detectives
“raised the possibility that Murphy had
been killed for revenge.

* “Maybe some husband caught up with
him and used the dress belt because it

had some special significance,” one of

_the detectives offered.

The hack owner shook his head. “Not
Murphy,” he insisted. He explained
that the murdered @nan had been reg-
| ularly employed: by a bus line. He was
“the father of four young children and

fa devoted family man. .Caught in the

economic trap with prices spiraling up-
ward higher than his wages, he had
taken on the task of driving a cab

‘on weekends to augment his income. His

concern for his family which had led
him. to hacking in his spare time, had
also led him to his death.

Sheerin said that Murphy had worked
late on Saturday for the bus company
and then had gone directly to the gar-
age where he had picked up the cab
and was out on the street by 10 P.M.

The regulation trip card was found
folded in back of the meter. All hack
drivers are required by law to keep
an accurate record of their various calls.
The card has to be filled out at the
completion of each trip and lists the
time the cabbie picked up the fare, the

number of passengers, the location of

the pick-up, the passenger’s destination,
the time of arrival, and. the amount of
fare collected.

The murdered man’s trip sheet had
four entries, the first made shortly after
Murphy took the cab out for the night.,

“The last entry had not been completed.

It showed that he had picked up two
passengers at Broadway and Seventh
Avenue, the heart of Times Square, at

2:05 a.m. The fare’s destination was

listed as 836 Greene Avenue, Brooklyn.
The time of arrival and the amount col-
lected had not been filled in.

“A call to .Brooklyn would run up
the meter,” Inspector Rothengast ob-
served. ‘According to the record sheet
that trip to Greene Avenue was the
last he made, but that doesn’t explain
how he landed in uptown Manhattan.
Of course, he might have picked up a
new passenger right after the others

,

got out, but he could have made the
entries the first time he stopped: for a
red light.”

«° The Inspector folded the trip sheet

and started to hand it over to Maurer
and Shields. Suddenly he paused and
examined some scribbling on the back.
He compared it with the handwriting
on the front. F

“Murphy may have fingered his killers
for us, boys,” he exclaimed. “Look at
this,” the Inspector added, pointing to the
writing on the back. Scrawled almost
the entire length on the back of the
long trip sheet ‘were five separate
phrases. These read:

2 men

White coat

STRAW hat

1 Duke
' 122 St & Park Ave.

“Tooks like he picked up two men
and didn’t like the way they were act-
ing,’ Detective Shields observed. “He
wrote this memo in case anything hap-
pened. I’ll bet that fellow ‘wearing the
white coat and the straw hat is the one
called Duke. There’s usually a snappy
dresser in every neighborhood who is
known as Duke.” He paused. “I don’t
get the meaning of 122nd Street and
‘Park Avenue.” >

“We'll find out,” Detective Maurer
said grimly. “Let’s start with this Greene
Avenue address in Brooklyn and see if
it leads us up here.”

By ten that morning the two veteran
sleughs arrived at the Greene Avenue
address. They had no trouble in locating
witnesses who had seen a cab pull up
in front of the house about two-thirty
in the morning, (Continued on page 76)

eh

Buenos Aires a candy manufac-
turer told the police he was getting
complaints about half-eaten choco-
lates in the packages. Detectives
asked a dentist to take impres-
sions from the employees and
match them against the tooth
marks in the candy. Confronted
with the evidence two girls ad-
mitted that they had been sam-
pling the product before packag-
ing it.

we Not so long ago the Texas
: Rangers discovered the value of

: mouth inspections. During a
i gambling raid they checked all
Pe players for identification but one

was unable to show any proof of
his name until he submitted his
false teeth. There, stamped in a

metal plate on the uppers, were
his initials and Army serial num-
ber!

A unique method of detection
was employed by Jacksonville,
Florida, police who chased a va-
grancy suspect into a funeral home

_ where he seemed to disappear
completely. The pursuers, how-
ever, felt the toes of the corpses
laid out for burial. Finally they
found a warm set and the owner
was their man. :

In Chicago a man accused of
passing a worthless check in a
restaurant declared: “If that check
isn’t good, I'll eat it!” The res-
taurant owner called a policeman
who, after inspection, of the check,
pronounced it no good, whereupon

_ for resisting an officer.

the man crumpled the incriminat-
ing .evidence, seasoned it with
pepper and salt that it might ap-
pear to be a joke and swallowed
it. “Now,” he said, “where is your
evidence?” Later, in ‘court, the
judge, admitting the impossibility
of producing the corpus delicti,
nevertheless fined the defendant

The swallowing ruse isn’t always
successful for the- criminal. A
Charleston, South Carolina, sus-
pect tried it recently when he
gulped down a $20 bill and two
$1.00 bills but the resourceful
police made him drink a solution
of warm water and soap. The evi-
dence quickly reappeared.

—HERMAN E. KRIMMEL

45

iat are you
indignantly.
proposition
any time I
you would
> detective
‘You don’t
like this
place from
fully.
» like it this
*ps_ visitors
give me a

-veral min-
his impa-
Finally he
of the bar.
red. “How

ger at him-
rised voice.

was the
“vealed that
artment of

working on
une and his
name has
sually, ‘‘fand
1 I talk to

snder stared
n shrugged.
was Duke
he reasoned
Binetti.”
‘That's it,”

consultation
“There’s a
tti,” he re-
n for a job
aid he was

w up plans
to surround
was hiding
went to the
opened the
pushed her
after you,”

oise in the
They found
‘r the bed.
‘an explain

the station-
ishing their

detectives.
1m I glad to

iim the belt
He began
0m clothes
blonde said
a store.”
Shields told
e’s the dress

otton print.
arrow waist.

long. The
nose. “She
le said.
rrebow came
on Binetti.
rere he had
arly Sunday
at his ques-
igged.
river?” was

Binetti leaped to his feet. “Say, what
are you trying to pull?” he demanded.
“What’s this about a murdered cab
driver?”

Grebow explained that he was sus-
pected of taking part. in the murder of
Murphy. “Maybe you didn’t think you
killed him when you wrapped that belt
around his neck. But you must have
known, otherwise your friends wouldn’t
admit that you were hot.”

The suspect began to laugh. “I’m hot
all right, but not that way.” He hesitated
for several moments and then finally
added, “I gave a rubber check to the Syn-
dicate Saturday night and that’s what I
thought this was about. I’m laying low un-
til I ean get enough cash to make it good.
I thought it was the mob after me when
the detectives crashed my girl’s place.”

The gambler said that he had bucked the
house at one of the large floating dice
games run by a large gambling syndicate
on Saturday night and had been a heavy
loser. He had handed over the rubber
check and had to go into hiding. Police
investigated Binetti’s story and found that
he had been at the dice game most of the
night.

“He might have pulled the job hoping
to make a good haul and pay off the bum
check,” Shields said. ‘‘He’s the only Duke
from around 122nd Street and Park Ave-
nue.”

Grebow was doubtful. “He might go
in for a large payroll stick-up or a jewel
heist, but I don’t think he would tackle a
cabbie. His losses ran into real money.”

Binetti was released but several detec-
tives were assigned to keep him under 24-
hour surveillance with instructions to bring
him in if he attempted to leave the city.

 gadeontiel MAURER had no cheering
news on his activities. He had found
more men with the Duke nickname listed
in the police files than he had anticipated.

The reports from the technical experts
were equally discouraging. The autopsy
showed a few scratches on Murphy’s hands
but there were no skull injuries so he had
not been hit over the head first and then
strangled. The killers evidently had
dropped the belt over his neck and then
tightened it while he was seated in the
front behind the wheel. The neck carti-
lage had been broken in two places, indi-
cating extreme pressure.

The photographs taken at the scene were
studied under a magnifying glass without
turning up anything not observed the night
of the murder. At the police laboratory,
Captain Fagan studied the various smudges
photographed by Detective Osterburg.
None of the fingerprints had come through
sufficiently to be of value. Fagan studied
the palmprint under a glass. “Must be at
least twenty different characteristics in
this,” he remarked, and ordered the palm-
print sent to the Bureau of Criminal Iden-
tification. “I know we’ve sent them over a
thousand palmprints without any luck, but
as long as there’s the remotest chance that
it might pay off some day then we’ll keep
on doing it.”

Detectives Maurer and Shields conferred
with Inspector Rothengast and Prosecutor
Grebow. “This is a great case,” Maurer
commented. “We're looking for some-
pody called Duke and New York is full
of them. Our only other clue is a palm-
print.”

Grebow pointed out that the killers prob-
ably were professional criminals who were
preying on taxi drivers.

“We've had a tough run of taxi stick-
ups,” Rothengast admitted, “but things
have quieted down since we nabbed one
of the important boys. He was picked up
some time ago and now is in the Tombs
waiting trial. He certainly can’t be in
on this one.”

“How about the other jobs; did he do
those himself?” Grebow inquired.

Inspector Rothengast said that the man’s
partner had escaped. The pair had used
guns in pulling their jobs. The prisoner,
who was named James Holliday, had the
gun on him when caught. Holliday had
refused to name his confederate but ad-
mitted that he and his partner had been
responsible for many of the taxi stick-ups
in the city.

“Any other drivers robbed and strangled
by a belt wrapped around their throats?”
the prosecutor wanted to know.

“This was the first one, and I hope it’s
the last,” Rothengast replied.

Grebow was thoughtful. “Holliday’s in,
but his partner still is loose,” he pointed
out. “He probably laid low for a while
and then went right back to robbing more
hackies. He may be our man.”

“How are you going to get Holliday to
talk?” Grebow was asked.

The prosecutor shrugged and remarked
that it would depend on how he sized the
man up.

| eared was brought to the prosecu-
tor’s office from his cell in the Tombs.
“Why should I talk?” he demanded. “I’m
facing the mandatory anyway.” The pris-
oner was referring to the fact that for a
robbery conviction with a gun the man-
datory minimum sentence he would re-
ceive would be from 10 to 20 years.

“Don’t let those prison lawyers advise
you,” Grebow counseled. ‘“They’ve given
you a bum steer already.” He opened a
copy of the penal code and read the penalty
for armed robbery. “See, it says that the
minimum sentence must be not less than
10 and not more than 20 years. That
doesn’t stop a judge from making it 19 to
20 years if he wants to, and he might want
to if our office informed him that you
were withholding vital information from
the authorities.”

The prisoner remained silent.

“Do you think that pal whom you’re
covering will do the extra bit for you?”
Grebow jeered. “Think it over,” he said
and directed that the prisoner be given a
copy of the penal code and taken to a room
where he could read it without interrup-
tion.

There was no doubt that the prosecutor’s
information ‘had upset Holliday and when
he returned later he made a feeble at-
tempt to bargain with Grebow. “Will I
get a break on my sentence if I talk?”

“You'll get the ‘book’ if you don’t,” he
was told.

Holliday gave up. “My partner was
William Jackson,” he admitted, “put. 2
don’t know where you will find him. I
understand he hasn’t been around the usual
places since I was picked up.”

The prisoner was taken out while the
information was checked. Detective
Maurer telephoned the Bureau of Iden-

tification. They had a record of a criminal |

named William Jackson who answered
the description furnished by Holliday of
his partner. Jackson had been arrested
in 1942 for stealing a car. Two years later
he was sent to the penitentiary for a
burglary and later was returned for vio-
lation of parole. In 1947 he had been ar-
rested for jostling and given a six-months
sentence.

“Any nicknames listed for him?” Maurer
asked.

“He’s called Junior,” was the disappoint-
ing reply.

Grebow pointed out that the nickname
in the files on his record card was six
years old. Holliday was brought into the
room again. “Did Duke ever get his white
coat stained on any of the jobs you pulled
together?” Grebow asked him.

The prisoner shook his head. ‘Not

Duke,” was his reply. “He’s a real sharp

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dresser and takes care of his clothes.”

Detective Maurer shook hands with Gre-
bow. “You D.A.’s are handy fellows to
have around.”

An alarm was broadcast for Jackson, and
Inspector Rothengast assigned twenty de-
tectives to the task of running down the
wanted man. Men dug into his background
to learn of his habits and the addresses of
relatives. Detective James H. Harding,
normally assigned to the Manhattan East
Youth Squad, was ordered to keep an eye
on an apartment house at Fifth Avenue
and 114th Street, where Jackson’s favor-
ite aunt lived. Several days after Holliday
first talked, Harding saw the wanted man
near this corner. He seized ttim, comman-
deered a taxi, and had the prisoner taken
to the East 104th Street Squad office. De-
tective Maurer was in Grebow’s office at
that moment and the two men were ques-
tioning Holliday further as to any possible
hideouts where Jackson might be. The
men left at once for the stationhouse.

Although Jackson admitted taking part
in the taxi jobs with Helliday he denied
any knowledge of the murder of Murphy.
“T laid off since Holliday was picked up,”
he insisted. His palmprint was taken and
rushed to headquarters. H did not match
the one found on the cab.

Detective Shields, who had arrived to
take part in the questioning, recalled the
conversation he had held wéth Binetti’s
blonde girl friend about the belt. “Say,
Jackson,” he asked, “what’s your aunt’s
favorite perfume?”

The prisoner’s face olearly showed his
surprise at the unysual question. “She’s

crazy about gardenia,” He said. “I always
buy her some.”
Shields beckoned to Maurer. “I think

we have a visit to make;” he said and the
two men sped to the aunt’s apartment,
taking along with them the belf. Floyd
Arrington, her son-in-law, was present.

The detectives showed her the belt. Her
eyes opened in surprise. “It looks just like
one I have.” She tried it on and it
fitted. Asked when she had last seen her
nephew, William Jackson, she said he had
called the previous Saturday night. “That’s
right, he went to the back bedroom where
the dress was kept: What has the rascal
done now?”

“Plenty,” the officers replied. They
found the aunt’s dress and the belt from
it was missing.

Meanwhile, the detectives noticed that
Arrington had become very uneasy in
their presence, particularly when he saw
the belt. The shrewd officers decided to
bring him in for questioning on the chance
that he might know something. At the
stationhouse Arrington’s palmprint also

Defense maneuver boomeranged ‘when State was able to
(above), beneath prisoner’s signature, had been added

was taken. He denied any knowledge of
Murphy’s murder.

Several hours later, while the two men
were continuing to deny any knowledge
of the murder, the telephone rang in the
squad office. Detective Louis Manz of
the Bureau of Criminal Identification was
on the wire. “You fellows are making a
little bit of history up there today,” he
remarked. “For the first time a palm-
print has paid off in New York. Arrington
left the one found on the cab.”

“Are you sure?” he was asked.

“I found twenty-two identical charac-
teristics,” he replied. “It’s 100 per cent
positive.”

The prisoners were confronted with this
sudden development. Jackson was the
first to crack and to admit the murder.
He said that on Saturday night he had
met Arrington on the street and had in-
vited him along for a job. When the
other asked what weapon they would use,
Jackson visited his aunt’s apartment and
filched the belt without her knowledge.

The pair spent the evening in a tavern
and finally picked up Murphy’s cab about
two o’clock. Jackson had lived in Brook-
lyn at one time and he knew that the
Greene Avenue section usually was de-
serted at that hour.in the morning. When
they saw many persons still out on the
street because of the heat, Arrington left
the cab on the pretext of looking for his
girl friend and then returned saying she
was out. They instructed Murphy to take
them back to a New York address.

Arrington, however, was known in the
neighborhood at the second address and so
they told Murphy to drive to 122nd Street
and Park Avenue. It was at this point
that Murphy evidently became suspicious
and made his memo on the back of his trip
sheet. When Murphy stopped for a red
light, Jackson slipped the belt around his
neck. The driver began. to struggle and
Jackson handed the noose over to Arring-
ton and told him to pull while he entered
the front and pushed Murphy out of the
seat and began to drive away, meanwhile
emptying the pockets of the cab driver.

Jackson drove about the darkened streets
for the next twenty minutes, with Arring-
ton pulling tighter and tighter on the noose,
and Murphy all this time was in agony,
dying by inches. Once Jackson saw a
police radio car on Madison Avenue and
he hurriedly backed up a cross street to
avoid being seen. The killers finally
parked the cab where it was later found.

Jackson said that Murphy’s wallet had
contained only $9 and he had split the
proceeds with Arrington. He kept the

wallet and the next day found $10 secreted
in it.

He double-crossed the other by

prove that the postscript
after letter had left jail

keeping the $10 for himself.

When Magistrate Francis X. Giaccone
heard the details of the death ride he de-
scribed the taxi as a “moving chamber
of torture.”

Bors men were placed on trial on No-
vember 19th, 1948, with Grebow as-
signed to prosecute. Attorneys for the
two men split on their defense tactics.
Jackson’s lawyers realized how hopeless
their case was and so they built up a
picture of Jackson as a dope fiend who
smoked marijuana cigarettes and sniffed
cocaine before embarking on his crimes.
Jackson testified that he had bought “three
caps” of cocaine some hours before the
murder and had used them in building up
his courage. His attorneys pleaded for life
imprisonment.

Arrington’s lawyers conceded that their
client had been along in the cab, since the
palmprint definitely placed him there, but
they said he didn’t know that Jackson was
planning a crime. He had been along for
the ride and nothing else. They sprang a
surprise when they presented a letter
Jackson had written to Arrington’s wife,
who was his cousin, while both men were
awaiting trial. As a postscript beneath
Jackson’s signature were the words, ‘So
you (worried?) about Shorty (Arring-
ton’s nickname). Please don’t I did
everything.” (The word worried prob-
ably was meant to be in the message).

Grebow examined the letter and no-
ticed that the stamped notice placed on the
bottom by prison authorities after the
letter had been written, ran into the writ-
ing of the postscript. He knew that pri-
son authorities are careful to place their
stamp clear of the writing. He summoned
a handwriting expert to examine the post-
script. He reported that the letter “g” in
the last word, “everything,” had been writ-
ten over the stamp placed there by the
prison. He examined Jackson’s handwrit-
ing and stated that it had not been written
by him. Somebody had added the post-
script after the letter left the jail. The
great surprise by the defense was a boom-
erang.

A hitch developed while the jury was
out. The foreman twice reported back that
while the jury had agreed upon a verdict,
one juror had developed scruples about
voting the death penalty and was holding
out for a recommendation of life imprison-
ment.

“The recommendation is not mandatory
upon the court,” Judge Donellan informed
them.

The jury retired and a short time later
it seemed that the lone juror had won his
stubborn battle. The foreman announced
the verdict finding both men guilty of first-
degree murder with a recommendation of
life imprisonment.

On December 21st, 1948, Judge Donellan
denounced the two defendants for the cruel
murder of Murphy. He ignored the recom-
mendation of the jury and sentenced both
men to the electric chair.

Attorneys for the defendants appealed
both the guilty verdict and the action of
the judge in sentencing them to death.
Their appeal was denied by the Court of
Appeals in July, 1949, with the highest
court in New York State ordering the death
penalty carried out. Their last hop2 was
a clemency hearing before Governor
Dewey. This was denied, and both were
electrocuted.

Eprtor’s Note:

The name Duke Binetti as used in
the foregoing story. is not the real name
of the person concerned. This innocent
person has been given a fictitious name
in order to protect his identity.

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The “Moving Chamber of Torture”

(Continued from page 45) but their re-
port of the incident left the officers puz-
zled. Because it had been so hot during
the night a few residents on the block
had been seated out on the street when
they saw a new yellow DeSoto taxi pull
up in front of the building. One man got
out, walked up the steps to the entrance,
came right down again, and the cab pulled
away.

None of those who had witnessed the
episode could furnish a description of the
man. It had been dark and they only
caught a glimpse of him.

“I was on the side of the building and
watched him while he was in the vesti-
bule,” one man offered. “He just pulled
out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, took
several puffs, and went right back to the
cab. I know he didn’t ring any bells and
he didn’t look at the names of the tenants
because he had his back to the directory
board.”

The description of the cab tallied with
the one driven by Murphy. Several wit-
nesses further said they had caught a
glimpse of a man wearing a white jacket
in the car while his friend stepped out.

“This doesn’t make much sense,” Maurer
remarked. “They hired the cab in Man-
hattan, gave the driver a specific address
here in Brooklyn, and then beat it after
some hocus-pocus in the vestibule.”

The detectives learned that two different
men in the neighborhood were known as
Duke. With the aid of Brooklyn detectives,
the two men were picked up and brought
in for questioning. Both of them had
satisfactory alibis and when a search of
their quarters failed to turn up any white
jackets, they were cleared.

The officers next visited 122nd Street
and Park Avenue, the location listed on
the cryptic note by Murphy. Although
Park Avenue is one of the most fashion-
able addresses in New York, it does not
apply to that particular neighborhood,
which is distinctly run down. The tracks
of the New York Central Railroad which
are underground through the better sec-
tion, are above ground here and the rail-
road stone fence forms a sort of Chinese
Wall separating the two halves of the

street. The automobile roadway is narrow
and hilly, with the railroad wall cutting
off light and visibility. Most motorists and
pedestrians shun the street and it is a
desolate spot at night, with the nearest
stores open on 125th Street, three blocks
away.

Maurer and Shields exchanged glances
as they inspected the four corners. “It’s
a good spot for murder,” they agreed.

The two detectives decided to split their
activities with Shields to concentrate on
locating anybody known as “Duke” in the
vicinity of 122nd Street and Park Avenue,
while Maurer took on the task of checking
all men nicknamed Duke who were listed
in the police files,

Detective Shields, a gray-haired man
who has served longer on the Homicide
Squad than any other member and has
participated in most of the city’s best-
known murder cases, found himself run-
ning into a curious wall of silence when-
ever he brought up the Duke nickname.
Shields doesn’t look like a detective and
deliberately wears light clothes and bright
neckties so he has little difficulty in palm-
ing himself off as an out-of-town mobster.

The veteran sleuth decided to use this
approach as soon as he observed the re-
action he was getting. Not far from the
corner is a small tavern. Although the
law requires such places to leave part of
their front window unobscured so that
anybody passing by can look in, the owner
of this particular place had got around
the law by letting his windows get so
dirty that nobody could peer in if they
wanted to.

Detective Shields walked in and or-
dered a glass of beer. Several men were
standing at a corner of the bar studying a
racing sheet. The bartender was _half-
heartedly wiping a few rinsed glasses.

“Seen Duke around?” Shields asked.

The bartender paused momentarily in
drying the glasses. He tried to make his
face look blank. “Don’t know nobody by
that name, Mister,” he replied.

The other men at the end of the bar
had looked up hastily at the question and
began to whisper among themselves.

Shields realized that he was on the trail

“4 REFRESHMENT BAR

“The dinner, the taxi, and the tickets were on you—it’s my
turn to treat’’

of something. “Look, bud, what are you
trying to hand me?” he asked indignantly.
“I just blew into town with a proposition
for Duke. He told me that any time I
wanted to get hold of him you would
know where he might be.” The detective
fingered his hand-painted tie. “You don’t
think I dropped into a dump like this
because I liked the looks of the place from
the outside,” he added scornfully.

The bartender shrugged. “We like it this
way,” he remarked. “It keeps visitors
away. Finish your drink and give me a
chance to think.”

He studied the sleuth for several min-
utes while Shields concealed his impa-
tience and tried to look calm. Finally he
beckoned the other to an end of the bar.

“The Duke is hot,” he whispered. “How
do I know you're not after him?”

Shields pointed his index finger at him-
self. “Me?” he asked in a surprised voice.
“Do I look like a policeman?”

“You don’t have to be one,” was the
strange reply. The bartender revealed that
Duke was hiding out in the apartment of
his new girl friend.

i FAR Shields had been working on
nothing more than a nickname and his
acting ability. “Duke’s last name has
slipped my mind,” he said casually, “and
it might be embarrassing when I talk to
him. What is it again?”

For several seconds the bartender stared
hard at the detective and then shrugged.
“Well, after all, you knew he was Duke
and that he hangs out here,” he reasoned
out aloud. “It’s Binetti. Duke Binetti.”

Shields snapped his fingers. “That's it,”
he said.

The sleuth hurried for a consultation
with Inspector Rothengast. “There’s a
gambler known as Duke Binetti,” he re-
ported. “It’s hard to figure him for a job
like this, but the bartender said he was
hot.”

The Inspector carefully drew up plans
and assigned a group of men to surround
the building where Binetti was hiding
out. Shields and his partner went to the
apartment. A pretty blonde opened the
door. The detectives hurriedly pushed her
aside. ‘Duke, they’re coming after you,”
she screamed.

The officers heard some noise in the
bedroom and ran in there. They found
Duke Binetti cowering under the bed.
“Don’t shoot,” he pleaded, “I can explain
everything.”

“Save your explanations for the station-
house,” the officers told him, flashing their
badges.

Binetti’s actions surprised the detectives.
“Police,” he exclaimed. “Boy, am I glad to
see you.”

Shields had brought with him the belt
used in strangling Murphy. He began
to poke through the bedroom clothes
closet. “Look, Mister,” the blonde said
angrily. “Go buy your own in a store.”

“Never mind the cracks,” Shields told
her, displaying the belt. “Where’s the dress
this goes with?”

The blonde examined the cotton print.
She placed the belt about her narrow waist.
It was a good two inches too long. The
showgirl held the belt to her nose. “She
used gardenia and I don’t,” she said.

Assistant District Attorney Grebow came
to the station house to question Binetti.

The prisoner was asked where he had
been on Saturday night and early Sunday
morning. He looked curiously at his ques-
tioners. “You know,” he shrugged.

“Why did you kill the cab driver?” was
the next question.

Ss RR APIO eR ERR ipenan

Binetti leaped °
are you trying
“What’s this at
driver?”

Grebow explai:
pected of taking
Murphy. “Maybe
killed him when
around his neck
known, otherwise
admit that you v

The suspect be
all right, but not
for several mor
added, “I gave a?
dicate Saturday
thought this was :
til I can get enou
I thought it was
the detectives cr:

The gambler sa
house at one o!
games run by a
on Saturday nig!
loser. He had
check and had ¢
investigated Bine
he had been at t
night.

“He might hav
to make a good !
check,” Shields s
from around 122

nue.”

Grebow was
in for a large p:
heist, but I don’t
cabbie. His loss«

Binetti was ré
tives were assig?
hour surveillance:
him in if he att

ETECTIVE M
news on his
more men with
in the ‘police file
The reports f
were equally di
showed a few sc:
but there were :
not been hit ov:
strangled. The
dropped the be!
tightened it wh
front behind th«
lage had been b
cating extreme |
The photograp
studied under a
turning up anyt!
of the murder
Captain Fagan s!
photographed!
None of the fing
sufficiently to b
the palmprint u
least twenty <
this,” he remark
print sent to th
tification. “I kn
thousand palmp
as long as there
it might pay off
on doing it.”
Detectives M:
with Inspector
Grebow. “This
commented.
body called Di
of them. Our
print.” ;
Grebow point
ably were profs
preying on tax!
“We've had |
ups,” Rotheng:
have quieted ¢
of the importa:
some time ago
waiting trial.
on this one.”


MURDER ONE [ 214

Q. What did he say?

A. He joked with her and laughed it off.

Q. You went out one evening with Mr. Appelgate to a cut-
rate drugstore?

A. Ye.

Q. When was this?

A. About the first of September.

Q. Youhad a conversation?

A. Yes, he asked me to go in and make a purchase. He didn’t
have any change, only two dimes. He told me to go in and get a
twenty-three-cent box of rat powder—he borrowed three cents
from me.

Q. When you went in what did you ask for?

A. A twenty-three-cent box of rat powder.

Q. You didn’t have the name of the rat powder written on a
paper to show the clerk?

A. No.

Q. He didn’t ask you any questions?

A. No, he just got it and wrapped it up.

Q. What did you do with it?

A. I gaveit to Appelgate.

Q. When Appelgate asked you to get the powder, did you ask
him why?

A. No, I didn’t.

QO. Why didn’t you?

A. It wasn’t my custom to ask questions.

Q. Did you ever see rat poison in your house?

A. No.

Q. You never saw a box like this? (Showing exhibit)

A. No, never.

Q. Did you know the color of rat powder?

A. No.

Under questioning by Edwards, Mrs. Creighton denied every-

215 ] Poison and Pedophilia

thing, repudiated each “confession.” She was “absolutely afraid”
of Appelgate. Appelgate knew of her previous trials for murder,
something her own children did not know, and threatened to tell.
She was so terrified that she had written twenty-one anonymous
letters and sent them to herself, in the hope of getting the Appel-
gates to move. The letters “warned” her to get rid of the Appel-
gates as “common people” and threatened that if they did not go
they would be “put to sleep.”

Mr. Edwards, reading excerpts from the “confessions,” began
questioning his client about them immediately after she had ad-
mitted writing the anonymous letters.

“T gave you copies of these statements to read in the jail last
night, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Q. You made the statements?

A. Yes.

Q. As far as this statement contains references to your putting
poison in Mrs. Appelgate’s food, is it true?

A. Itis untrue.

Q. Did he at any time tell you the white powder was arsenic?

A. No, he did not.

Q. Did you know it was arsenic?

A. No, I did not.

QO. Now, it further quotes you as saying: “I was sick and tired
of the way Mr. Appelgate was carrying on with Ruth and with
me, and I acted on the spur of the moment. I decided to do an
injustice to Ada Appelgate.” Is that true?

A. No, it is not.

Q. Did you ask the police where Ruth was?

A. Yes, they said Ruth was locked up.

Q. Did they say what would happen to her if you didn’t talk?

A. (ina broken voice) ‘They said she would burn with me.


MURDER ONE [ 212

Q. And didn’t you tell us that your mother caught you on one
of these occasions?

A. Idid.

Q. And didn’t you tell us that your mother had relations with
Mr. Appelgate?

A. Yes, I did.

Mr. Weeks next questioned the weeping girl.

Q. Did you tell the district attorney you had improper rela-
tions with other boys?

A. (inavery low voice) Yes.

Q. That’s true, isn’t it?

A. Yes.

Mary Frances Creighton, who had wept brokenly with the
other women in the courtroom as her sixteen-year-old-daughter
told of being violated at fourteen and then systematically de-
bauched by the man on trial with her mother, was calm when
she was summoned to the stand by her attorney,

She told her age—thirty-six—said she had been married in
1918, that her husband’s parents had informally adopted her after
she left her own homeat the age of sixteen.

“Where you ever convicted of a crime?”

“No.”

“Did you give any poison to Ada Appelgate of your knowl-
edge?”

“T did not.”

“Did you know of your daughter's intimacy with Mr. Appel-
gate?”

“I did not.”

“Did you ever see any act of intimacy between them?”

“T did not.”

The questioning abruptly tumed then to what seemed to be
an attempt to build up—as Mrs. Creighton’s defense—the idea

213 ] Poison and Pedophilia

that Appelgate blamed his wife’s lack of charm, her garrulity, her
repellent hugeness, for his failure to win the post of county com-
mander in the American Legion. For nearly half an hour Mr.
Edwards questioned his client about the social side of American
Legion affairs and Appelgate’s ambition to rise in the veterans’
organization,

“Did he make any comment about his defeat?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Creighton said. “He said his wife was partly to
blame for it. He said she should have kept her mouth shut.”

She told of mild disputes about the expenses of the home, of
Appelgate’s failure to pay his three-sevenths of the upkeep from
his earnings at the Veterans’ Bureau. She said that after his defeat
he became “quiet and depressed.” Continuing under the ques-
tioning of her counsel, she told of mildly rebuking Mrs, Appel-
gate for talking about Ruth at the Store and told of a visit to their
home by a Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield, Appelgate’s former cam-
paign manager. She said Appelgate had told her that Greenfield
had suggested that he “get a little apartment for Ruth.”

“What was your reply?”

“T said that it was ridiculous and that Greenfield was crazy to
talk like that.”

“Did Mr. Appelgate say anything about his own attitude
toward Ruth?”

“He said he had a fatherly love for her, the same as he had for
his own daughter.”

“Did you believe him?”

“T did.”

Finally Mrs. Creighton began to speak of Mrs. Appelgate’s ill-
ness.

Q. Did she say anything when she came back from the hos-
pital?

A. Yes, she said to Mr. Appelgate: “Well, you had to bring
me home to die,”

|


MURDER ONE [ 210

Q. More than once?

A. Yes.

Q. Did you ever tell him you loved him?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he tell you he loved you?

A. Yes. :

Q. Did Appelgate have relations with you in his own room?

A. Yes, he did.

Q. How often?

A. Oh, many times.

Q. Who slept with you when you had visitors?

A. Mr. and Mrs. Appelgate and Agnes.

Q. Your parents were in your house?

A. Yes, they occupied my room.

Q. As far as you observed, were your mother and Mrs. Appel-
gate friendly?

A. They were.

Q. Did you ever see your mother do any unkind act toward
Mrs. Appelgate?

A. No, I didn’t.

Q. You went to school, church and Sunday school?
A. Yes.

Q. Did you go to Sunday school?

A. Yes.

Q. Did your mother teach you your prayers?
A. Yes, she did.

Q. Was your mother always kind to you?

A. Always.

Q. You havea little brother?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he pray and go to Sunday school?

A. Yes, he always did.

211 ] Poison and Pedophilia

Q. Did Appelgate say he ever wanted to marry you?

A. No, he did not.

Q. Did Appelgate tell you he would like you better under any
certain conditions?

A. Yes, he did. He often told me he would like me better if
he were single.

Q. Were Mr. and Mrs. Appelgate always friendly?

A. Yes—they scrapped a bit but they were friendly.

Q. Do you remember a fight between the Appelgates in the
car?

A. It was in the yard. She banged the door, so he beat her up
and knocked her down.

Q. What did she say?

A. She said: “If that was Ruth he wouldn’t have done it.”

Q. Who was there?

A. Mother, Agnes, and myself.

(Edwards paused here to confer with Mrs. Creighton.)

Q. Do you remember crying on your mother’s shoulder after
Mrs. Appelgate’s death?

A. Yes.

Q. What was said to make you cry?

A. It was about Appelgate wanting to marry again.

District Attorney Littleton then began his cross-examination.

Q. Ruth, do you remember having a talk with me?

A. Yes.

Q. Didn’t you tell me your mother caught you with Appelgate
many times?

A. (ina low voice) I did.

Q. Did you tell us about sleeping with Appelgate while Mrs.
Appelgate was in the hospital?

A. Yes, I did.


MURDER ONE [ 216

Q. Did they say anything about their belief in Appelgate and
you?

A. Yes.

Q. What did they say?

A. I think they said Mr. Appelgate was innocent and I was
absolutely guilty because of my troubles in 1923, and I should
take the rap alone and there was no other way out for me.

Q. Now, in your statement did you say: “I was so worked up
‘I didn’t know what to do”? The district attorney kept saying you
are a bum and your daughter is a bum and you are dragging her
down to where you are?

A. Yes, I said that.

Q. Was it true?

A. Yes.

Littleton began his cross-examination.
. You recall telling us you resisted Appelgate’s advances?
Ido.
. Inacar?
It was.
. You wish the jury to believe he raped you?
. He attacked me.
. You were unable to overcome him?
Yes.
- How many times did that occur prior to the Appelgates’
coming to your home on November 17?
A. Neveragain.
Q. How long before did it occur?
A. About two weeks before.
Q. You were apprehensive about your husband finding out
what had occurred?
A. Yes.

e)
A.
Q
A.
Q
A
Q
A.
Q

217 ] Poison and Pedophilia

Q. You didn’t complain to anyone?

A. No, I was afraid.

Q. What were you afraid of?

A. I was afraid he would expose my trouble in 1923. That’s
what he said he would do.

Q. And so you would have us believe he dominated you?

A. Yes.

Q. He threatened to expose some trouble in 1923?

A. Yes.

Q. That kept you fearful?

A. That’s true.

Q. That is the dominating influence you’d have us believe?

A. Yes.

Q. These relationships continued?

A. Yes, from time to time.

Q. Aftera time this became a matter of worry to you?

A. It was a continual worry.

Q. You realized that finally some trouble would follow?

A. Yes.

Q. You feared that your husband would discover this?

A. Yes. -

Q. You didn’t want him to know?

A. No.

Q. You had no grievance against Ada Appelgate?

A. No.

Q. When you wrote “People like the Appelgates don’t live
very long,” did you mean both the Appelgates?

A. No, just Mr. Appelgate. .

There was no mercy in Littleton as he tripped and trapped the
now trembling woman. He showed how inconsistent were her
stories, how one admission merely canceled another. Until at last
she seemed to give up, to stop struggling. When, finally, he


100 - Trey Diep In THE CHAIR

To further questions Ruth responded that her lover
was “Uncle Ev’—Everett Appelgate. :

Later on in the day, Appelgate was confronted with
Ruth’s statement. He shrugged his shoulders and spread
his fat hands. He knew that because Ruth was a minor,
he was confessing to second-degree rape. “It’s no use
trying to hide it any longer,” he said. “I'll just have to
take my medicine.” But he continued to protest his com-
plete innocence concerning his wife’s death. No threats,
no promises could shake him. .

On Monday night Frances Creighton broke. She called

for Dr. Hoffman and dictated the first of three con-
flicting confessions. In part, this confession stated that
on the night prior to Ada’s death: “Mr. Appelgate came
into the kitchen and said, ‘Are you preparing supper?’
Ada was at this time in bed. I said ‘yes.’ And then he
gave me a white powder and said, “This is arsenic. Put
it in her milk and give it to Ada.’ I was in a panic and
asked why. He said, ‘Do as you’re told. Keep your
mouth shut. I have got to go through with this thing.
I got this arsenic at Pharmacy this afternoon.’”
_ Frances then confessed to placing the arsenic in the
milk, and later at night mixing a larger dose in the egg-
nog. She admitted that she had known for some months
that Ruth and Appelgate had been intimate. She claimed
she had remained silent because she feared that, if her
husband learned the truth, he might kill Appelgate. She
further stated that Appelgate had told her everyone’s
body contained arsenic and that even if some were found
in Ada’s, no suspicions would be aroused.

The confession was full of holes. The initial check
proves that Frances, not Appelgate, had purchased the

ough-on-Rats. It seemed incredible that Appelgate
should have produced the arsenic in the casual wa
described by Frances, that he would have told her what
it was and where he had bought it, or that she should
have been so cowed by him that she mixed it into the

Tue Brackx-Eyep Borcia 101

drinks without protest. This was especially true in view
of the fact that she had admitted the arsenic poisoning
of her brother.
An assistant district attorney named Strohson was
articularly disturbed by the confession. Accompanied
y a detective, James B. Mayforth, he went to Mrs.
Creighton and begged her to tell the whole truth. Frances
agreed. A stenographer was called in and Frances told

_@ completely different story which absolved Everett

Appelgate of all guilty knowledge relating to his wife’s
death. Frances told of sexual relations with Appelgate and
her jealousy of Ada. She was bitter in her resentment
against the dead woman because “she allowed herself to
do an awful lot of talking with her big mouth.”

She admitted it was she who had bought the rat poison.
Strohson asked, “Did Mr. Appelgate know you had

. purchased this rat powder?”

“No.”

“What did you have in mind when you purchased it?”

-“T was pretty sore—I decided to do an injustice to
Mrs. Appelgate.”

“What do you mean by an injustice?”

“To give her the poison.”

She rambled on about the various times when she had
sprinkled Rough-on-Rats in Ada’s food.

Mr. Strohson interrupted, “And you know Mr. Appel-
gate knew nothing about the rat poison which you ad-
ministered to Mrs. Appelgate?”

“Ves.”

This second confession, which became known in
court as “The Strohson Confession,” completely cleared
Sbpelgte. If it had stood, there would not have been
suiiicient evidence to indict him. But three days later,
Frances Creighton called for pen and paper. Apparently
she had undergone a change of heart. During the three
days either her feelings for Appelgate had crystallized
into hatred, or else she realized that her only hope of


96 Tuey Diep In THE CHAIR

she flopped against the pillows, apparently unconscious. -

Appelgate estimated that the time was six o’clock, au
He tried chafing her hands and applying artificial
respiration. Frances phoned the doctor. The call went
through at 6:25 A.M. The doctor was understandably
annoyed at being awakened at this hour. He had been
treating Ada for hysteria and diarrhea. Obviously he did

not take Frances’ description of Ada’s illness too seriously. -

He asked to speak with Appelgate. He advised that Ada
should be ‘sent to the hospital at Meadowbrook and
offered to make immediate arrangements.

‘ Meanwhile, John Creighton had taken over Appelgate’s
attempt at artificial respiration, but already Ada’s arms
were “cold as far as the elbows.” Appelgate, in a state of

high excitement, called the nearby ‘police station and |

demanded an “ambulance and an oxygen tent.” Next he
phoned a local doctor. He waited in the house until the

olice arrived and began working over Ada with an ~

inhalator. Then, as the doctor had not yet come, he rushed
to his home to fetch him. When the doctor finally ap-

peared on the scene, Ada Appelgate had been dead for

some time.

Later the district attorney contended that Appelgate
had waited deliberately until he was certain that his wife
was dead before he summoned help, and further that
his excited calls, his demands for an oxygen tent, and his
hurried trip to the doctor’s house were all elaborate play-
acting, designed to forestall suspicion.

The doctor issued a death certificate, listing the cause

of death as coronary occlusion. Ada’s body was removed
to a funeral parlor and arrangements made for her burial.
Under ordinary circumstances, Ada Appelgate might
have been buried in peace without the slightest sus-

icion of foul play. But the neighbors knew more about
haa: ‘Creighton than she had imagined possible. Tips

started coming in to the district attorney’s office and the

Tue Buiackx-Evep Borcia 97

police that Ada Appelgate’s death was worthy of in-
vestigation.

On the following day, District Attorney Martin W.
Littleton summoned Appelgate and Mr. and Mrs. Creigh-
ton to his office at the Nassau County Courthouse in
Mineola, Long Island. Littleton, a young and vigorous
man, made a practice of conducting interviews late at
night. The suspects were herded into a corridor outside
his offices a few minutes before. midnight. Littleton
looked them over and decided to concentrate his fire on
Everett Appelgate.

Between these two men an instantaneous antagonism
sprang up. Littleton, tall, dark and good-looking in a
virile way, made little effort to conceal his contempt for
the plump, undersized weakling with the blond hair and
the pouting mouth. Littleton’s manner was tough and
hard. After a few preliminary questions, he bluntly asked
whether Appelgate would object to an autopsy on the
body of his wife.

Appelgate hedged. He preferred that the autopsy
should not take place. Littleton pounced upon him,
making it clear that any objections Appelgate might
make would be held against him, should the autopsy
reveal any evidence of foul play. Surprisingly, Appelgate
stood up to the district attorney. He gave his consent to
the autopsy, but only after the funeral. Littleton de-
manded an immediate autopsy. Cornered, Appelgate,
finally withdrew his condition. ,

A telephone call started the autopsy. While waiting for
the preliminary findings, Littleton talked with John
Creighton, as Frances and Appy sat in silence in the
corridor. Within an hour, a report came through. Little-
ton recalled Appelgate to his office. The questions came
in a. steady flow. Was Appelgate ashamed of his two
hundred eighty-six pound wife? Hadn’t they had some
violent quarrels? What about Mrs. Creighton? How in-
timate had their relationship been?


98° . Tey Diep IN THE CHAIR

Appelgate alternately blustered and cowered, but made
no damaging admissions. He had loved his wife, he in-
sisted. He-and Frances had been friends and nothing more.
If Ada had actually been murdered, he knew nothing
about it. He would make no conjectures. »

“God alone knows,” he said. “I certainly don’t.”

After hours of questioning, Frances was conducted into
the office. She was nervous, jumping up and down,

_twisting her fingers about the strap of her handbag. But,

like Appelgate, she protested her complete innocence.
Dawn had come before the questioning ended. Frances
- reminded Littleton that it was Sunday morning and
that she would have to prepare the children for church.
Littleton shrugged, but he had an officer drive the trio
back to Bryant Place.

By noon, Littleton had a detailed report on the causes

of Ada Appelgate’s death. She had died of arsenic-tri-

oxide poisoning. Fifteen grains of arsenic were deposited

in the body. Three grains would have been more than
adequate to kill any normal person. Beyond any doubt,
Ada had been murdered. But Littleton bided his time. A

- full week passed before he sent detectives to bring the .

Creightons and Appelgate back to his office. As before,
he waited until late at night to strike. His men staked
out the house and immediately after the unhappy trio
returned home from a movie, they were whisked to
the courthouse in Mineola.

This time Littleton did not depend on ordinary police
methods to secure information. Instead, he called in Dr.
Richard H. Hoffman, a noted Manhattan psychiatrist.
Tall, dark and handsome, Dr. Hoffman fitted the Holly-
wood concept of a psychoanalyst and Littleton wanted
him to use his persuasive powers to obtain a confession
from Frances Creighton.

While Littleton and his assistants kept Creighton and
Appelgate busy, Hoffman sat alone with Mrs. Creighton
in an outer office. Describing this interview, Dr. Hoff-

Tue Briack-Eyep BorciA 99

man said, “I was not a policeman. I was a doctor, treating
her with all the courtesy, respect and consideration [
would give a private patient who had come to me in
confusion and despair. I frequently inquired about her
comfort while I put her through the painful ordeal of
exposing her innermost heart and soul to me.”

Neither Littleton nor Dr. Hoffman seem to have had
any compunction about the methods they employed. Dr.
Hoffman later wrote that after five or six hours of un-
interrupted questioning, “I was not tired. I was ex-
hilarated.” He did secure a confession that night from
Frances Creighton, but not for the murder of Ada
Appelgate. Instead, she confided that twelve years pre-
viously she had poisoned her brother, Raymond Avery.

In the morning, Dr. Hoffman went home with Frances.
He settled down in the breakfast nook while Frances pre-
pared bacon, eggs, and coffee. While he sat there, Ruth
Creighton, now fifteen, came down the stairs, dressed
for early church services. Dr. Hoffman has described
Ruth in rather lyrical terms: “Her blonde hair caught
the morning light. Her eyes were pale blue with just
enough strabismus to make her cute. She had a small,
well-shaped mouth and a little nose above it. Her face
was oval, her cheeks rounded. All in all she looked like
a poster of innocence.” He also noted that she wore a
slave bracelet about her ankle which, for Hoffman, had
“a vaguely licentious connotation.”

According to Hoffman’s story, he asked Ruth, “Are
you a virgin?”

She countered by inquiring if he were a detective. He

_assured her that he was a doctor.

“Well, if you’re a doctor,” Ruth answered, “T’ll tell

ou. I’m not a virgin.”

When Mrs. Creighton objected, Hoffman continues,
Ruth turned on her and said, “Why, Mother, you knew.
You’ve been watching my periods for four months.”


102 : Tuey Diep In THE CHAIR

' escaping the death penalty herself was to make it ap-
pear that she had been completely subjugated to Appel-
ate’s will. 7

This time Frances denied even touching the arsenic.
According to this third confession, written in a semi-
literate style: “About 11:30 p.m. Mr. A said he was going
to fix a milk eggnog for her he got the sugar liquor &

| - I got the egg & milk gave them to him & watched him

fix it again | saw him drop this stuff in yet I did not say
a word as once I had been told to keep quiet. He took
it in & lifted Ada up & gave her some.”

Appelgate and Frances were already under arrest. The
grand jury acted speedily, indicting them for first-degree
murder. John Creighton was held in prison as a ma-
terial witness. The date for trial was set for January 13,
1936. Mrs. Creighton hired Elvin N. Edwards to defend
her. The court assigned Charles R. Weeks to represent
Appelgate. District Attorney Martin W. Littleton would
direct the prosecution.

The tabloids had a field day telling about “The Double
Triangle” that ended in “Ihe Eggnog Murder.” Mrs.
Creighton’s picture adorned the front pages under the
caption “The Black-Eyed Borgia.” Appelgate, looking
almost doll-like between two burly detectives was “The
Drugstore Lothario.” Edwards was “bushy-haired” and
Littleton, “The Vigorous Defender of Our Public
Morals.”

When Judge Courtlandt A. Johnson took the bench
on the morning of the twenty-third, an excited crowd
composed largely of middle-aged and elderly women
struggled for admission to the courtroom. Mail—most
of it obscene—for Mrs. Creighton and Appelgate had
reached such proportions that it had to be tied up in
great stacks.

Selecting the jury was no easy task. Person after
person was dismissed because of bias caused by reading
newspapers accounts. It took three days to complete a

Tue Briack-Eyep Borcia | 103

anel of twelve jurors and two alternates. The all-male
jury was composed largely of small businessmen and
semi-skilled workers.

Prior to the trial, Mr. Weeks had filed 2 motion for
severance. He knew that virtually no evidence against
Appelgate existed beyond Mrs. Creighton’s unsupported
word. In a separate trial, he had little doubt, Appelgate

would be released. It was not the district attorney whom

he feared, but Frances Creighton’s lawyer. There could
be no joining of the defense. The interests of the prisoners
were utterly opposed to each other.

District Attorney Littleton knew this too. If Weeks’
petition succeeded, Appelgate probably would slip
through his fingers. He vigorously opposed the severance,
claiming that, “the activities of the defendants are in-
extricably interwoven.” Littleton won. The motion was
denied.

On the first day of the trial, Mrs. Creighton preceded
Appelgate into the courtroom. She had lost weight dur-
ing her incarceration, and this emphasized the fine bony ©
structure of her face and her deeply-set dark eyes. She
wore a tailored brown suit with matching wide-rimmed
felt hat and a white shirtwaist with a large bow. Some of
the reporters described her as “almost beautiful.” Appel-
gate entered a few moments later. As he took his seat at
the prisoners’ table, he looked at Frances, obviously
hoping that she would return his gaze, give some sign of
relenting. Frances ignored him and stared straight ahead.

Littleton opened. He gave a complete account of the
case from the beginning to end. Both Edwards and Weeks
objected that this was not a proper opening but a sum-
mation. These objections were overruled.

Elvin Edwards had a most unpleasant task before him.
Whether or not he fully believed his client, he was under
obligation to defend her to the best of his ability, even
though that might mean sending an innocent man to the
chair. Edwards moved in hesitantly. Perhaps he still


another female living under the same
roof?

The doctor and King were inclined to
believe Ruth’s story. They were certain
that Mrs. Creighton had lied to them
when she said she had not known of the
intimacies that took place between her
daughter and Appelgate. She had lied
earlier, too, when she denied that anyone
in Baldwin had ever accused her of being
a poisoner.

Xing walked to the kitchen, where Mrs.
Creighton was going about some house-
hold duties, oblivious of what was taking
place around her. Once again, without
show of emotion, she denied knowledge of
Ruth’s affair with Appelgate.

He asked Mrs. Creighton’s permission to
take a look through the house. She will-
ingly granted it.

The little bungalow was very orderly.
Whatever else Mrs. Creighton may have
been, she was a neat, efficient housekeeper.
It was while King was making an exami-
nation of the premises that detectives from
the Homicide Bureau arrived. He ordered
that they empty the medicine closet of all
bottles, to be taken to Mineola for analy-

sis.

The Appelgate bedroom proved to be
the most interesting place in the house,
the only room in which there was evidence
‘of what had been going on in that dwell-
ing of strangely entwined destinies.
Stacked on a night table were several
books. Two of them were entitled “My
Love Life” and “Health Knowledge.”

A GLANCE through the tome called
“My Love Life” revealed that it was
a sordid work, dwelling at length and in
revolting detail on sexual practices. Who-
ever had been reading it (King thought it
had been Appelgate) had been half way
through it and had used a postal card as a
place mark. He examined the postal and
learned that it had been addressed to
Ruth Creighton from a school chum on
vacation the previous summer. Running
through the contents of “Health Knowl-
edge” he noticed that one part of the book
was devoted to the effects of arsenic on
the human body. The pages devoted to
this subject matter were soiled at the
edges and dog-eared.

Mrs. Creighton was moving freely about
the house during all this time, always un-
der the eyes of at least one official. She
happened to pass the door of the Appel-
gate bedroom and the police official held
up “Health Knowledge” and asked her
who had been reading it.

“Oh that,” she said. “All of us read it.
It’s rather a handy thing in case of ill-
ness.”

In case of illness! Had the passages
dealing with arsenic been “handy” in the
case of Ada Appelgate’s illness? \

When Mrs. Creighton left the room,
King went through a bureau. He came
upon an envelope and found in it a stack
of pornographic photographs. He called
Mrs. Creighton, held out the envelopé
and asked her if she knew what was in its

“Where’d you find it, in the bureau?”
she asked. He nodded. “Oh, they’re Appy’s
dirty pictures. French.”

“He showed them to you?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Nice people!” King mused.

He explained to the woman that he
would be obliged to take such effects as
the pictures, the books and the medicine
bottles along withthim. “Go right ahead,”
she said. “I have nothing to hide. Take
anything you want.” She looked at King
with a level, smouldering stare, and again
the Inspector realized that he was deal-
ing with a heartless creature.

Licutenant Jess Mayforth, in command
of the Homicide Squad, was in Ruth’s

True Detective Mysteries

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held a long whispered conference with Mr.
Lia When the sleuth left, Littleton
said’

“Appelgate and his wife had bitter quar-
rels about Ruth, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did. I would have given
anything to get rid of them only I was
afraid if I put them out my husband
would find out the real reason.”

“And that’s why you wrote those an-
onymous letters last June—so your hus-
band and you could put the Appelgates
out without your husband’s knowing your
real reason for wanting to do so.”

“Yes, only Appelgate convinced John
there was no truth to the letters.”

“And you hated Ada Appelgate because
she was a very talkative woman and you
thought she would tell people about your
daughter and disgrace the girl.”

Mrs. Creighton hung her head.

“You hated Ada Appelgate, didn’t you!
You hated her!”

“T didn’t like her very much!”

“You hated her!”

“Yes, I guess I did.”

“And Everett Appelgate hated her, too,
didn’t he!”

“He certainly did. He told me he
couldn’t stand the sight of her.”

Detective Charles Jones who had been
quizzing Appelgate came in and told the
District Attorney in subdued tones that
the Legionnaire admitted his intimacies
with Ruth, but denied any sinister know-
ledge of his wife’s death. “And he claims
Mrs. Creighton wanted him to marry her
daughter because she was afraid Ruth
would become pregnant,” said the detec-
tive. “Maybe that'll be a lead for you.”

“T* say it’s a lead,” retorted Littleton.
The D. A.’s withering fire resumed be-
fore the detective left the room. “You
wanted Everett Appelgate to marry Ruth,
didn’t you?” he demanded.

“Well, I didn’t want to see my daughter
have a baby with no father.”

“Is your daughter going to have a
baby?”

“No, but I’ve been worried lots of times
around a certain time in the month.”

“Ruth couldn’t marry Appelgate while
his wife was still alive, could he?”

“No.” ’

“But he can marry her now—now that
Ada Appelgate is murdered!”

Again the woman hung her head.

“T say Appelgate’ can marry your
daughter now that Ada Appelgate is mur-
dered!”

“Yes, I guess so.”

Littleton looked up at those who had
been closely observing the woman during
the questioning. King nodded and some
of the other boys did, too. That was
Mr. Littleton’s signal to rush in for the
“kill? and he’s particularly good at that.

Mr. Littleton arose from his desk and
stood directly in front of Mrs. Creighton.
She looked up‘ at him like a hunted ani-
mal at bay. Terror was written on her
face. In contrast to the rasping tones that
had coated his previous questions, he
spoke now in a slow whisper, his face very
close to Mrs. Creighton’s.

“And that, madam,” he said, “is why
you put poison in Ada Appelgate’s food.”

Everybody stiffened at the answer.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Creighton, “that’s why.
And Appy helped me.”

Then, in a torrent of words, the answer
to it all gushed from the throat of this
twenticth-century Borgia. She had wanted
to get rid of the unloved wife so that Ap-
pelgate would be free to marry Ruth in
the event that the latter became pregnant,
Appelgate, she suspected, would have no
serious objections to such a plan beeause
he was madly enamored of Ruth whereas
his wife, in the words of the poisoner, had

True Detective Mysteries

93

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92

room when the Inspector went in. “Noth-
ing of interest in here, Inspector,” he said.
Lieutenant Mayforth was glancing through
a Testament of Ruth’s. In the tome there
was a piece of yellow paper used as a book
marker. One edge of the paper was even
and lined with hardened glue; the other
edge was ragged. The paper appeared to
have been the upper part of a sheet of a
writing tablet. Mayforth removed it from
the Testament and stuck it in his vest
pocket, more as.a matter of routine than
anything else, little realizing the impor-
tance that it was presently to assume.

Everybody left the Creighton-Applegate
menage and returned to Police Head-
quarters. King talked with District At-
torney Littleton and while he felt that
there was a sinister connection between
the mysterious death of Ada Appelgate
and the singular events that had gone on
around her, he regretfully admitted that
his hands were tied until Dr. Alexander
O. Gettler, nationally renowned toxicolo-
gist of New York City, had analyzed the
vital organs of the dead woman. There was
nothing to do but release Appelgate and
Creighton and keep them and the woman
they suspected of being a Borgia under
surveillance pending Dr. Gettler’s report.

The following day officials sent de-
tectives to Newark to gather the details
of the Creighton arsenic case there, and
dispatched other sleuths to check every
drug store in Nassau County, beginning
in Baldwin and spreading out fanwise, to
ascertain if anyone in the household at 12
Bryant Place had purchased arsenic about
the time Mrs. Appelgate.was stricken.
Early in the afternoon, Mr. Littleton tele-
phoned King.

“(NAN you hop right over to my office,
Inspector?” he said. “I’ve found
something very interesting.”

Three letters lay on the District At-
torney’s desk. “Take a look at those,”
said Littleton. King saw that the enve-
lopes each bore the following “name” and
poy’ yon written in a strong, free-flowing

and:

To the People at
12 Bryant Place
Baldwin, Long Island

The letters had been posted in Baldwin
on three consecutive days the previous
June.

King read them. They bore no saluta-
tion and were anonymous. The contents
of each were essentially the same. The au-
thor stated that the presence of Everett
Appelgate and his corpulent wife in the
bungalow on Bryant Place was most dis-
tasteful to neighbors. “Appelgate is no
good and never was,” read a passage of
one of the communications. “He is a wolf
in sheep’s clothing and is on the make
for every woman he meets. As for his
wife, her mouth is too big. She tells a lot
of lies about the people she lives with and
they are foolish to let her pull the wool
over their eyes that way.”

King laid the letters down. “Well?”

“You'll notice,” said Mr. Littleton, “that
in none of those letters does the writer
say anything derogatory about the Creigh-
tons. The author’s sole object, evidently,
was to have the Creightons put the Ap-
pelgates out.”

“Where'd they
asked.

“We dug them up in the files. Appel-
gate himself brought them in at the time
they were mailed, and wanted the author
traced. Our records show that he said
that Mrs. Creighton, who received and
opened them, turned them over to him.”

“Did anything come of it?”

“No, Appelgate had no idea who might

come from?” King

True Detective Mysteries

have written them, and the matter
dropped there. But. we kept the letters and
a report on them. One of the assistants Just
remembered them.”

Examining the letter paper, King saw
that it had been from a tablet of yellow
stock. The top of one of the letters was
ragged, as if the sheet had been torn from
the tablet hastily, a small portion of the

aper remaining fastened to the tablet.
Fis mind flashed back quickly to the

iece of paper that Lieutenant Mayforth
had taken from Ruth Creighton’s Testa-
ment. He summoned Mayforth and he still
had the paper in his vest pocket. It proved
to be the missing portion of the sheet-on
which one of the letters was written.*

Littleton sent for a specimen of the
handwriting of the Creightons, affixed to
the statements they had signed on Satur-
day night.

“Why,” he exclaimed, “Mrs. Creighton
wrote these letters herself! Look—a blind
man could see the similarity in that hand-
writing!” :

But what did it all mean? The further
the probe, the more complicated the mys-
tery became.

Revelation followed revelation. Late in
the afternoon, the sleuths on the Newark
assignment returned. It developed that
Mrs. Creighton had not been tried for an
arsenic death once, but twice! Not long
after the acquittal of her and her husband
on the charge of murdering her brother,
she had gone on _trial—alone—charged
with the insurance murder of her hus-
band’s aged mother, Mrs. Walter Creigh-
ton. Arsenic—slow, torturing death—
again. And once again, an acquittal, be-
cause proof was as weak as suspicion was
strong.

“That woman,” said Littleton, “is hid-
ing plenty. She didn’t say a word to us
about that second trial. I can’t wait until
I get Dr. Gettler’s report.”

r. Gettler’s report did not arrive until
Saturday, October 5th—late in the after-
noon, a week almost to the minute from
the time Patrolman O’Connor had walked
into King’s office and laid the cylinder
on his desk. It had been a week that
kept everybody on edge. All they could
do was stand by, in an attitude of watch-
ful waiting. The Creightons and Appel-
gate were trailed, but they made no sus-
picious moves. Sleuths could not trace
an arsenic purchase to the household, and
the contents of the medicine cabinet
yielded no trace of such poison.

R. LITTLETON summoned the In-

spector as soon as he received Dr.
Gettler’s report. He tossed it to him. “I
guess we can go right ahead, now, Inspec-
tor,” said the District Attorney. “There
was enough arsenic in that poor woman to
kill four people!”

Darkness had fallen and a loud wind
moaned over the expanses of Long Island
when John and Frances Creighton and
Everett Appelgate, flanked by detectives,
walked into the office of District Attorney
Littleton that day of October 5th. Mr.
Littleton, holding Dr. Gettler’s report in
his hand, looked up and motioned the
three to chairs while other officials leaned
against the walls. They knew that in that
room was the person who had plotted the
death of Ada Appelgate, the unfortunate,
fat, unloved wife. But they didn’t know
who that person was or what the motive
was. Everett Appelgate appeared self-as-
sured. and cocky. Mrs. Creighton wore
her mask of heartless inscrutability. John
Creighton seemed bothered by it all in a
passive sort of way.

Littleton looked up at the trio. “I have

here in my hand,” he said slowly, “ a doce.

tor’s report which shows that Ada Appel-

gale was poisoned—with arsenic. Mrs,
Creighton, what do you know about this?”

Mrs. Creighton turned to her husband,
as if for protection. The husband’s face
colored. “Iran,” he said heatedly, “if
you’ve done anything to this woman,
yowve got to go it alone—this time.”

“But I’ve done nothing!” the woman
retorted. “Are you going to sit there and
let them accuse me of this?”

Littleton gave King a signal and he
took John Creighton and Appelgate out
éf the room.

“Mrs. Creighton,” the District Attorney
asked, “how long have you been having
intimate relations with Everett Appel-
gate?”

The woman was staring at the floor and
she answered without looking up. “Not
since I learned that he was having rela-
tions with my daughter,” she said in a
whisper.

The . suspected Borgia was cracking!
Here already was an admission that she
had lied.

“Tell us about this business with Appel-
gate,” said Littleton.

“PNHERE’S not much to tell. Mr. Appel-

gate and I were intimate almost as
soon as he and Ada came to live with us.
The first time was one day when I was in
bed with a cold. Everybody was out and
Mr. Appelgate came in about three in the
afternoon and came into my room. He sat
on the edge of the bed and asked me how
I felt, then he lifted the covers and got
into the bed. He tried to get intimate
and [ tried to resist him. I loved my hus-
band and always have.

“Then Mr. Appelgate told me that he
had found out I was tried for that poison
case in New Jersey and if I didn’t submit
to his advances he would tell my children
what sort of a mother they had.. My hus-
band and I always feared that Ruth and
John would find out about the New Jer-
sey: business and I wanted more than any-
thing on earth to keep that from them.
So rather than have my children find out
about my past I submitted to Mr. Appel-
gate.”

Mrs. Creighton went on to say that the
intimacies continued at frequent intervals
after that, Appelgate usually returning
home in the afternoons when she was
alone in the bungalow.

“And no one knew about this?”

“No, no one.”

“And your children do not yet know
about the murder trial in New Jersey?”

“Not so far as I know.”

“And you have not had’ relations with
Appelgate since you found out about him
and Ruth.”

“No. Only two or three times.”

Littleton stared at the woman, unable
to believe his ears,

“Well, you see, Mr. Appelgate was a
very passionate man,” Mrs. Creighton
went on. “Who the woman was didn’t
make much difference to him, just so it
was a woman. He is a regular: beast.”

“And the reason you did not tell your
husband about all this was because you
wanted to protect yourself and also your
daughter?”

“Yes. I was completely in Mr. Appel-
gate’s power and he took advantage of me
and my daughter. I knew if my husband
learned about Ruth in particular that he
would kill Mr. Appelgate.”

The strange picture was beginning to
come into official focus!

“And your husband never found out?”

“No, he had nothing to do with this
thing.” The woman bit her lower lip. She
realized that her. tongue had_ slipped.
“This business with Mr. Appelgate, I
mean,” she quickly corrected herself.

One of the detectives who had been
questioning John Creighton came in and


ani Ts

94

become the only thing in skirts who didn’t
appeal to Appelgate sexually, and sex was
the axis on which the Legionnaire’s exis-
tence rotated.

According to the Borgia’s story, one
night in mid-September, Ruth, Mrs.
Creighton and Appelgate were together
in the living room. The rest of the house-
hold was in bed. As Ruth was about to
leave for bed, Appelgate, in the presence
of the mother, placed his hand under the
girl’s clothing and patted her affection-
ately. When the girl had gone upstairs,
Appelgate said to Mrs. Creighton: “I’m
nuts about that kid.”

“Why don’t you marry her, Appy?”
asked the woman.

“I would if I could get rid of that tub ”

of a wife.”

“Let’s give her a dose of Rough On
Rats. That'll fix her. That’s how I fixed
my brother and John’s mother.” i

“You did?”

“Sure, they couldn’t prove anything.
And it would be easy with Ada. She’s
always sick anyway.”

“If I thought we could get away with

it, I'd do it in a minute,” the Borgia
quoted Appelgate as having said.
.. That was all that was said about mur-
der that night. The next night, Appelgate
drew Mrs. Creighton aside, told her he
had been reading about arsenic in “Health
Knowledge” and decided to poison his
wife, said the woman.

fon next afternoon, Appelgate and the
Borgia drove to the Southard Cut Rate
Drug Store at 76 Merrick Road, right in
Baldwin, and while the Legionnaire waited
outside in the car, Mrs. Creighton went
in and poet, for twenty-three cents, a
box of rodent exterminator known as
Rough on Rats. It is made up of white
arsenic and lampblack.

Mrs. Creighton, utterly devoid of an
feeling in the taking of human life if
such life stood in the way of an objective,
next day went about the dark business of
arsenic murder, as she had done twice be-
fore. Age tee 4 dinner, she dropped a
pinch of Rough on Rats into a dish of
chocolate pudding and later served the

udding to the big, unsuspecting victim.

rs. pppelente ate the pudding, seeming
to relish it, while the Borgia stole quick,
guilt-laden glances in her direction.

The poison was slowly administered for
a week, in coffee, pudding and in gravy,
and Ada Appelgate became ill. When she
was in bed—her death bed—the rapist and
the adulteress took turns hastening the
end of the unloved wife. They propped
her up and held her head as they placed
to her parched lips the lethal potions.
They were angered when Dr. Zabin
thwarted their hideous handiwork by in-
sisting that the woman be taken to the
hospital, and even as she was returning
from the institution to her home with Ap-
pelgate and the Borgia, the latter said:

“When we get home, I'll fix you a nice
egg-nog, Ada.”

The unsuspecting Mrs. Appelgate was
assisted to her bed by the fiend in
human guise whose dastardly work had
been interrupted. Mrs. Creighton and her
erstwhile lover hastened to the kitchen
and soon there was heard the whir-r-r of
an egg-beater, mixing a concoction of milk,
whiskey, eggs, nutmeg, sugar—and a pinch
of “Rough on Rats.”

It was Appelgate who went to the sick
room with the drink. Feigning a displa
of affection, he sat on the side of the af
slipped an arm around his wife to prop
her, then with his free hand held the tall
glass containing the deadly draught to
the lips of the woman while she sipped the
poison through a straw. When the victim
had taken a few sips, she looked up at her

True Detective Mysteries

husband, forced a smile, and said: “I’m
sorry, but I can’t take any more just
now, Ev.” i

Mrs. Creighton, who had been hovering
just outside the sick room, entered when
she heard those words from Mrs. Appel-
gate, took the glass from the hand of the
rapist, and held it to the woman’s lips.
“You've got to take this, Ada!” said the
Borgia. “It will give you strength.”

Ada Appelgate, putty in the clutches of
the iron-willed Borgia, forced down the
drink. In a little while, a leaden feeling
came over Mrs. Appelgate, then she was
seized with cramps and nausea, .

That was on the afternoon of Wednes-
day, September 25th. On the evening of
Friday, the 27th, about eleven o'clock,
Mrs. Appelgate was in a very weakened
condition from continued doses of poi-
soned egg-nog and broth. Applegate called
Mrs. Creighton to the kitchen. “Let’s mix
her a good stiff one,” the Borgia quoted
Appelgate as saying. “I’m tired of her
hanging on like this.”

And so Appelgate mixed another egg-
nog and Mrs. Creighton took it to the
bedroom and literally forced it down the
throat of the woman who was too weak
to protest that she didn’t want to take any

To Newspapermen, Police
Officials and Detectives

If you have in mind any fact case, with
actual hotographs, deemed suitable for
publication in the i please add
the Editor, Trus Drtectivs Mysterizs,
The Chanin Building, 122 East 42nd St.
New York City, and ask for our “Letter of
Suggestions,” covering full information
relative to writing the accounts of fact crime
cases for this magazine.

more nourishment. In the morning, Appel-
ate, who had slept during the night with
Ruth and his own daughter, went into the
sick room and saw that success had
crowned the hideous efforts of the Borgia.

Nothing stemmed the torrent of words
that gushed from the Borgia’s lips as all
sat there spellbound by the wanton tale.
Now she told of what had gone on in the
household during the week that passed
between the first and second visits of the
trio to the District Attorney’s office.

“Ruth told Inspector King everything,”
Mrs. Creighton informed Appelgate when
he returned home after questioning on the
morning of Sunday, the 29th.

“Well, what about it?” the Legionnaire
retorted, according to the woman. “They
can’t jail me for what went on with Ruth,
and she knows nothing about the other.”

“Ba I think the police are suspicious,”
said the woman. “They took all the
medicine bottles out of the cabinet.”

“They won’t find anything in them,”
laughed Appelgate. “And they can’t pin
anything on us anyway. Suppose they do
find arsenic in her body. There’s a certain
amount of arsenic in any body. You ought
to know that.”

Appelgate and the woman were consider-
ably on edge during the week. The sus-

ense—the fear that every time the door-
bell rang the police were outside—began
to wear on their nerves. John Creighton,
the innocent one of the trio, went about
in a state of mild bewilderment. Often
when he looked at his wife, he seemed to
suspect, she thought, that she had had a
part in Ada Appelgate’s end, but he said
nothing, and neither did she,

The Appelgate-Creighton ménage had
not been a haven for the dove of peace,
as Appelgate and the Borgia had first con-
tendon There had been extreme bitter-

ness on the part of Appelgate toward his
wife ever since the time, the previous
summer, when he had been beaten in the

election for County Commander of the

Americun Legion. Next to his love for
women, the Legion was the dearest thing
to Appelgate’s heart. It afforded him an
opportunity to assert himself; he was a
cocky, conceited little man, and liked to
hear himself referred to as “Commander.”

“I'd have been elected County Com-
mander,” Mrs. Creighton said Appelgate
told her once, “if it hadn’t been for that
big tub of a wife. Her mouth’s too ——
—*~ big and she’s been telling people I
don’t treat her right and run around with
ey women. No wonder they didn’t elect
me!’

Appelgate denied from the first that he
had participated in the poison plot. While
admitting his relations with Ruth, he
denied he had been intimate with the
girl’s mother. “She didn’t appeal to me,”
Appelgate explained. “Too old!”

Pe ree ntabe and the woman were in-
dicted for the murder. John Creighton
‘was completely exonerated of any con-
nection with the death. The joint trial of
the couple started in January. On the wit-
ness stand, Appelgate denied the death
charges hurled against him, saying that if
there had been poison in anything fed to
his wife, Mrs. Creighton had put it there.
Mrs. Creighton, on the stand, repudiated
her confession. Then District Attorney
Littleton began to cross-examine her. He
asked her about arsenic, and if she knew
its effects on the human system. The
woman replied that she did. Under a
barrage of insinuations, Mrs. Creighton
began to lose her composure and Appel
gate, who had been jaunty during the
proceedings, looked at her anxiously.

“You say you did not put anything in
that last egg-nog,” Littleton demanded,
Reo saw Appelgate put something
in it

To the amazement of Judge, jury and
spectators, Mrs. Creighton uttered a soft
“Ves,”

“And you knew that was poison?”

“Ves.”

“And knowing it was poison, you will-
ingly gave that drink to Ada Appelgate?”

“Yes.” The woman’s answers were so un-
emotional that the Judge asked her if she
realized what she was saying. “Yes,” said
the witness.

John Creighton, the man who had been
innocently implicated in the murder of the
Borgia’s brother, knew as little about the
murder of Mrs. Appelgate as he did about
the previous ponte And so John Creigh-
ton walks the streets a free man today.
His daughter, Ruth, looks at the future
with hope and through the eyes of horrible
experience. As these words are set down,
the man who seduced her and the woman
who committed the greatest of human
sins await a fate worse than Ada Appel-

ate’s in the death house at Sing Sing

rison. Both have been convicted of
first degree murder and have been sen-
tenced to die in the electric chair.

pate, EN
NOTE: Is Everett Appelgate guilty
of the crime of which he has just been
convicted and sentenced to death?

Watch next month’s issue of TRUE |
DETECTIVE for the story of a man:
who states unequivocally that he is .

innocent of this crime. It has always
been the policy of TRUE DETECTIVE
to open its pages to both sides of any
question involving crime, which is of
vital importance or interest to the
public, and following out that policy
we expect to print next month this
man’s story so that our readers may
judge for themselves whether or not
he is right in the amazing statements
he makes.—Ed.

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ANTONIO, Maurice, hanged at Rochester, N. Yu, Bele 8 1852.

[kessentence of death upon this man was carried into effect yesterday afternoon at 6 o'-
clock in the jail in this city, As an indication of the certainty with which detection
follows the commission of a secret and bloody crime like that for which Antonio suffered
death, the case is worthy of some report, Antonio left the island of Bermuda in the
summer of (?), accompanying his victim and family and landed in New York City probably
early in July. Whether the deadly purpose of the asaking the life of the husband of the
woman who had become his paramour entered his thoughts and formed a part of the plan to
be carried out on their arrival here is, of course, unknown, The circumstances of the

case render it likely enought that it was his intention, by removing the man, to possess
himself both of the woman and her property. They located themselves near this city, ek-
ing out a bare subsistance, by constant labor and the charity of neighbors, The murder
was doubtless committed on the 23rd of November and remained undiscovered until the early
part of February, when Antonio, the woman and her children started to lease the country.
Immediately the buried corpse of Teixeira, which had been so long buried and concealed,
rose to accuse his murderer, and before he could secure a tpetreat beyond the reach of
justice, he was arrested and convicted and yesterday executed, Thus, in less than a
year, he and those who were unfortunately connected with him, after leaving a beautiful
island in the tropics, and coming to this strange country, have passed through a variety
of experiences, and the lives bf two of them have been closed with violence, one the
innocent victim of lust and avarice, and the other suffering the ignominous comdemnation
of the law for taking his brother's life, The afrangements for the execution were made
by the Sheriff so as to ensure perfect order and ecorum in the performance of his stern
duty as the minister of justice. The avenues to the jail were guarded by several com-
panies of soldiers, the entire police force of the county was on duty in and around the
prison and everything done to prevent accident or disorder, The required number of
titizens foxform a jury were present in the jail to witness the execution,
"To the last moment of his life, he asserted his innocence of the crime, During the pre-
ceding day and yesterday, he has down a considerage distress in view of his approaching
fate, but he slept during Wedmesday night, and ate a hearty dinner yesterday, The woman,
Marie Pitar, was with him at intervals, He asked her to forgive him and she replied that
she had nothing to forgive him for, and added that he knew well enoughx that she had done
nothing, ‘The son was also in the cell with his father, and was exceedingly distressed
at the prospect of losing his only parent and friend in this country. 4n the afternoon,
the old man wept and prayed, but he declared that he was prepared to die, and should xx
xx submit to his fate resolutely,
#X "Shortly before | o'clock he was brought down into the lower hall, and as he approach-
ed the place of execution he continued to pray with a loud voice, broken by sobs and ex-
hibited much distress. He walked with unassistance, however, and,when placed under the
rope, desired all present to pray for him, He was asked if he had anything to say, and
replied that he had not, The signal was given by drawing the cap over his face, and the
drop fell instantly, jerking up the body with such force as to break the neck and instant
ly deprive him of life, The body was MMKXXXXZKKXYX for a little time subject to muscular
contractions and nervous twitthings, but there was no struggle, After it had hung about
a half an hour, it was taken down and examined by the physicians, who pronounced him dead
"The remains were buried in Mt. Hope after 6 o'clock last evening.

"Antonio was 51 years of age, and was born in the island of Maderia, a Portugese Colony,
where he had a wife and three children when he left for Bermudae He was a member of a
family of some consideration there; had received some education, and was quite intelli-
gent for one of his class, He was a musician and could write very well. He WKMHAXUZHX
wrote his name and age on a strip of paper in very fair characters yesterday.

"The woman and boy are still in jail, the latter tinder indictment for murder, and the fo
mer detained as a witness, ‘he little girl has been in the family of Louis Gomez, The
disposition of those in custody will be determined by the Court hereafter.

"Mr, QMX Gonzalez, who has been constant in his attendance upon the deceased, returns
today to Hamilton, He has been faithful and considerate in the performance of H# the

delicate and painful duties imposed upon him by the 4&Wxx% Court.

"As usual on such occasions, the avenues to the jail and the house-tops in the vicinity

were crowded with people, who were attracted by the event expected to transpire in the
jail yard yesterday afternoon, although entire vons their view."
e

XJAXAXHAR
ROCHESTER DAILY ADVERTISER, Rochester, Ne Ye, May 31, 1


ANDREWS, Joseph, hanged, New York, N, Y., May 16, 1769,

"New York, May 22, 1769-Wednesday last a special court of Admiralty was held at the city ha
in this city, by virtue of a mommission for tha} purpose, wherein his Exeellency the Gover=—
nor, as President, the Gentlemen of his Majesty s Council, and several others in the commi-—
sgion named, were judges, for the trial of Joseph Andrews, mariner, who, in concert with
Nicholas Johnson, in September, 1766, being at sea, on board the sloop POLLY, Capt, Dur-
yee, of this port, bound to the West Indies, barbarously and cruelly murdered the captain,
mate, boy and two passengers; for which the said Johnson was taken up and execution Nov,

15, 1766, at St. Eustatia, but Andrews having escaped to Boston was there apprehended and
sent here, After a long and fair trial of about 12 hours, he was found guilty; and we

hear he is to be executed tomorrow at the North Hiver, near Domini’ s Hook, and afterwards

to be hung on chains an Kennedy's Island, He appeared to be a hardened wrtéch, for some
time after condemnation; but, we are told that, finding all his ¥4#XaMZ evasions vain,

he has gince made a full confession of all his crimes, which it is said are soon to be
punished," VIRGINIA GAZETTE, Williamsburg, Va., June 8, 1769,

"Boston, May 14, 1767-Yesterday, Joseph Andrews, who has been confined in Charlestown
(Mass.) gaol, for some time past, for the murder of the Captaih, Mate and boy, belonging

to a New York vessel in the West Indies; was put on board a sloop bound to New

York; two constables of this town went as a guard to him," SOUTH CAROLINA AND AMERI-

CAN GENERAL GAZETTE, Charleston, S. Ce, 6-12-1767 (3:1) |

“yew York: May 18: This morning about one o' clock after a long trial
vefore a Court of Admiralty held in theCity Hall, consisting of His
kxcellency the Governor and the gentlemen of His Majesty’ s

Council JOSEPH. ANDREWS was found guilty of piracy and murder and
condemned to be HANGED, having in August or September of 1766

in concert with Nicholas Johnson, both mariners, upon the sloop
Polly, Capt. Duryee of this port, bound to the West Indies,

on the passage murdered the sd. captain, the mate, a boy, and

two passengers, for which Johnson was executedthe same year at Kx
Enstatia." NEWSLETIER, Boston, May 25, 1769.

"New York: Tuesday the 24th was executed Joseph AMARBESEXAKA
KKAKK Andrews and afterward hung in chains. the trial of
Stephen Porter for the murder of Capt. John Westcoat and others
two years since was to have come on but the sd. Porter the
evening beofre hanged himself in gaol. The Jury of Inquest
having brought in their verdict of self-murder, the body was
punted in the highway with a stake drove through it."

NEWSLETTER, Boston, MA BXXXX8K 6-1-1769.

"On Tuesday last according to his sentence Joseph &fidrews was hanged on
the shore of the north river. When he was dead his body was cut down
and hanged in chains on a high gallows on the most conspicuous part of
KAK Bedford's Island. “e confessed the murders for which he suffered
but solemnly denied having ever been concerned in any othe murders or
capital crimes. Stephen Porter hanged himself in his cell, A coro-~
ner's inquest brought in a verdict of self-murder and he was buried in
the highway at the upper end of the Bowery Lane with a Stake s tuck
through his body." NEW YORK JOURNAL AND GENERAL ADVERTISER, May 25,

1769.

County Clerk.” For sixty years after,
ty Clerk was alternated between the

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RR MARA EE AUER LONE time the

Sheriff or Jailor was put to no little trouble in removing

the boxes, rubbish and sometimes even small out-houses
that in some mysterious manner found their way within
the enclosure during the still watches of the night. But, like
all rebellions, this also came to an end. In 1850 a railing was
placed around the Court-House fence, for which John Fer-

that horses tied to
shade trees that had been set out, and prompted the plant-
ing of more the following summer. On December 3, 1862,
the Board of Supervisors passed a resolution that “Abram
B. Slauson, Sheriff of this County, is hereby directed not
to rent the Public Square in front of the Court-House in
Ovid Village for a pasture lot, or to use the same himself
for that Purpose, whereby the trees and shrubbery may be
injured, but the said Publie Square shall be held open to
the use of the public whenever they shall desire it for pub-
lic meetings,”

The Public EH zecution.

The first public execution in Seneca County — the hang-
ing of John Andrews for murder — took place at the Court
House in Ovid Village on Friday, September 6, 1811, before
an immense concourse of people, many from very distant

ed the unusual
adjusted and Andrews quickly jerked into eternity. Some
of the spectators had taken to the roof-tops, others were

of that momentous day.
Some three years later, Reuben Tingley, who lived in close
proximity to the Court-House in this village, killed his
wife by a blow on the head with an axe, and then cut his
own throat. The murder and suicide on October 28, 1814,
Saved the county the expense of an execution, but deprived
opportunity to witness a second publie
hanging, a fact that might have well been foremost in the
mind of the murderer after having dispatched his wife.
The couple were recorded as residents of Ovid in 1810, when
they had two sons and three daughters, all under sixteen
years of age. Otherwise, nothing else is known of the Ting-
ley family. ~

——

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THE CRIME AND PUNISHMENT OF
STEPHEN ARNOLD

Loutrs C. JONeEs*
INTRODUCTION

nN Dark Trees to the Wind (1949) Carl Carmer toid of

the death in 1805 of little Betsey Van Amburgh, in Bur-

lington, Otsego County, and the subsequent murder trial
of her uncle, Stephen Arnold. Before Carmer, Ralph Birdsall
had reported this in his Story of Cooperstown (1917) and
before Birdsall there were scattered references to the case.
These accounts were all based on the very complete coverage
of Elihu Phinney’s weekly newspaper, Otsego Herald (Coop-
érstown). In recent years other source material has come to
light which shifts the interest away from the hanging day to
the events which preceded it. Thomas M. McDade in his
invaluable The Annals of Murder, A Bibliography of Books
and Pamphlets on American Murders from Colonial Times
fo 1900. lists seven pamphlets which include contemporary
accounts of the trial, biographies and Arnold’s Confession.
all of which are either in the library of The New-York His-
torical Society or in that of the New York State Historical
Association and all of which are useful to the student of the
case and reflect the national interest it aroused in its own
time. “Old Time Notes Relating to Otsego County and the
Upper Susquehanna Valley,” compiled by Willard Vincent

4

Huntington, contains some useful details in Volume 4 of the
typescript.

A murder case from the New York frontier so completely
reported is a remarkably rich source of information on the
folk life and social institutions of the time. Readers may well
ponder such matters as the role of the militia, the clergy,
“committees,” the local band, the sheriff and his officers.
There are interesting views of education and the discipline
of children—what was approved and what was disapproved
by the community. Consider also the role of the medical men
and their methods of examination; the speedy procedures ol

Ass has

* Dr. Jones, Director of the New York State Historical Associatiot.
long been a connoisseur of murder.

248

pase i Dacca eg ee ee nn

STEPHEN ARNOLD _ | 249
} = the court; penology; journalism; the changing attitude of the

~= public toward Stephen Arnold. Again, one is impressed with
the great changes in concepts of time, space and communica-
tion which separate 1805 from today.
: Gur Knowledge of days gone by is made up of thousands of
: ittle tiles which, put together, create a recognizable mosaic.
2 A well reported murder case and the trial which it produces
ean be the source of many such tiles.

I —THE CRIME

In the year 1794 there came into the Butternuts Valley,
just a few miles west of Cooperstown, New York, a young
man of twenty-three named Stephen Arnold. Here was the
“new country” his Rhode Island kinsman had described to
3¢ him back home and it was truly an excellent place for one
~ “tolerably educated.” The land was just Opening up; it was
less than a decade since William Cooper had purchased
_. 40,000 acres in what was to become Otsego County and en-
couraged its settlement by farmers and craftsmen of all sorts.
Every year saw the clearing of more forest land, the planting -
of ora acres; the barns and houses, the mills and shops were
multiplying. Every new rooftree meant ereater aw-
yers, physicians, clerks, bookkeepers, hea) -
Stephen Arnold brought useful talents to the bustling com-
munity. Flis affectionate parents had done well by him and
he was.far better educated than the average boy of his time.
For a while his parents had kept him on their Rhode Island
farm, but a problem arose. Stephen couldn’t get along with
the hired hands and years later, looking back at his youth
he saw all his difficulties beginning with this conflict. And he
may not have been so wrong at that. This was a tense, inhi-
bited boy—undisciplined and quite aware, perhaps, that he
was the boss’s son. And the hired men were a raffish lot, easy-
ong, ribald, full of back country humor which is neither
delicate nor restrained. They gambled and their idea of Pi
day of rest was unadorned “sabbath breaking.” Yer these
could not have been such evil fellows or Mr. Arnold would
; have fired them and found others to take their place. Their
‘ evil lay in Stephen’s mind more than in their hearts, and in
his mind it grew until it became a sinister swampland of
fear and antagonisin. oO

PRE AB: I a i a 84 ty

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GLOBES

1y at 156th Street,
‘in the data need- if
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‘ing 1850. The in- :
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formation to the

‘ormation concern:
the Lytle List of
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New York History

The Quarterly Journal of :
New York State Historica ASSOCIATION
Vol. XLVIL No. 3 July 1966

WENDELL Tripp, Editor

. CONTENTS
Ulysses Prentiss Hedrick .

Horticulturist and Historian Paul W. Gates 219

The Crime and Punishment of

Stephen Arnold Louis'C. Jones 248

Federal Conflict of Interest:

The A. T. Stewart Case Harry E. Resseguie 27]

New York State and Local-H wstorical

Research in Progress Louis L. Tucker 302

Historical News and Activities 509

Book Revirws
Lord, ed., Keepers of the Past. Louis L. Tucker 313

Hofstadter, The Paranoid Style in

American Politics William E. Akin 314

Main, The Social Structire of

Revolutionary America John J. Waters 315

Mortis,-The Peacemakers: The Great Powers
and American Independence Wendell D. Garrett 317

boorstin, The Americans: The National

Experience Ellis A. Johnson 318

wader the act of August 24, 1942. Subscription §

~ contributors.

Entered as second-class matter at the post office at Cooperstown, N. Y.,
2.00 per copy. $7.50 a year.

The Association is not responsible for statments of fact or opinion made

Copyright © 1966 by the New. York State Historical Association,

Ae S35

Tr “wr i 9
oe | New Vorx History STEPHEN ARNOLD 51

a

2 : -- waters of the Susquehanna. One of Stephen’s. uncles was al-
~ ready there and when a cousin returned home he described
~ the Butternuts Valley and its burgeoning villages as just the

= place for a young man with Stephen’s education to make a
good start. So he went west and was “pleased with the com-

at eighteen he was assistant to the head master-and proving 7 plexion of the country” ang decided to settle there. And well

himself to be a conscientious, able school teacher. A good yaaa he might, for this part of York State is sull rich in soil, brisk
future lay ahead and he knew what he could do. - in climate, and a to the most critical eye four sea-
Then, at nineteen, his father took ill and he returned to sons lars year. And, Stephen Arnold cars his eee
ce the farm, to direct those same workmen who had por, | —sG Sues = ae: or my going far to seek for

| oa cade a source of terror and horror. And it went just as business. At this early settlement of the country, there was

14 Still groping for a solution, aware that his son was not cut
a out to be a farmer, Arnold placed him in an academy—and |
suddenly he blossomed. He had not, previously, been much i
ie of a student—but now books were his meat ae —
a c is fathe ‘ics all now came easily to him an
bi 4 Greek, English, Mathematics all

ren

ee i gg a BM Na ARG aD aA nw mee nant Sb > Nisa ee bo hee

re

Mut
#N5s F wit

i.

Sai td

ut badl one would expect. The disagreeable, self-righteous business in plenty for people of every description; villages :
5 Sd et ee ee alatable as a youne man. He and towns were in want of Physicians, School Masters, etc., |
a boy had become even more unpalatable < Y 8 d:Menchants and Land Spectilatose 20 « E Clerks.” F
ny k | - about farmine than the hired men, he was hyper- ‘ and iviercnants an and pee aA COTS in want o i€YrKS. Or
4 eh lof h snd their labors, he had delusions of grand- = two years he served in the last mentioned capacity and when J
wie ae feck hasert vein toncues. but. worst of he left his employer he carried with him a good recommen-
7 eur because he know those foreign Sues, , ith a. tBtcon
4 all, he had no laughter in him. And they found that with a ; . an ; Ar |
it ttle ganging up on him they. could arouse a temper that was It must have been about 1797 that a committee of towns-
} ILLie Sansins oe

as violent as it was futile. They cursed him to his face—and
cursing is a sin; they abused him, sneered at him, pat uo
attention to his orders. The only picture that we have ol
these fellows is in Stephen’s confession where he remembers
them as “vicious,” “dissipated.’’ How, one wonders, did they
remember him? Tall, with his buck teeth showing when he
talked in his nasal way, his hair beginning to prophesy the
baldness to come, never taking a drink, never Bugg: nee
relaxing, cold, reserved, never for a moment really likeable.
And arrogant. . | Poa

Luckily tor the family fortunes, after nine months Mr. /
nold, Sr. unexpectedly recovered and Stephen, now twenty.

iC ysic, as it was .
went off to Gloucester to study medicine or Physic, as it

then called. with a Dr. Ward. At the end of five months ne
came -home again because the strict study had been injurious
to his eyes and for two years he was home—doing nothing. |
suspect that this may have been a period of emotional sled "
und drang, that in the 20th century, in similar circumstance :
the family would have sent him toa good psychiatrist. Nature
worked her own therapy and, for some years to come one
would have said, did her job right well. | |

In the early 1790’s many Rhode Island families were mow
ing west to the post-war frontier opening about the head-

i MIN Pysoe

Ca cad

_ men from Burlington (this was a great place for commit-

tees) came to Stephen Arnold with a problem. They needed
a schoolinaster and they understood he had taught school in

Rhode Island. This act in itself speaks well for him; certain-

ly if he had seemed a violent or unstable: character they
would have sought elsewhere for one to teach their children.
He consented and the first week he enrolled fifty pupils; by
the end of the first term, a hundred and fifty. It was a very

' profitable arrangement. Probably he taught only in the win-

ter term for he is listed as a farmer; like most professional

men in his time and place he found it wise to keep close
to the security of the soil.

The citizens of Burlington must have felt themselves lucky
to get a man they knew to be sober and conscientious, rather
than having to trust to the chance arrival of a stranger.
School teachers were a gamble on the frontier; in nearby
Hartwick in this same period there was a schoolmaster who
got drunk every afternoon and led the children in prayer
with a bottle in one hand and a horse whip in the other.
When one of the children lacked the proper devoutness of
spirit, the whip sang and cracked until he learned the pain-
ful way how to worship the Lord. This man was more brutal

_ 4nd more of a hypocrite than most, but certainly teaching


6 Oa A a: BG lta Rl ea ea oie Meee eri

an es a
ee em be Soe se eee eet meee

ae

“seat at
deed tencencanirec ontes

rece

wma

952 New York History

conditions were enough to drive a man to drink. The school
buildings were too small and all ages sat together—toddlers
at the ABC’s and great hulking farm boys who were men
grown but had had no chance or no desire to learn. To Ar-
nold they appeared not really civilized and, like most of his
fellow teachers, he soon learned that only the rod spoke a
language they understood. There must have been many times
when those great oafs with their threatening sullenness re-
minded him of the hired men back in Rhode Island. On at
least two occasions he decided that he just didn’t have the
patience for this work, but good teachers were hard. to come
by and the community was satisfied and he was persuaded to
stay on.

And so for seven winters he taught school; probably he

. was better than average for those parts. Some time during

these years he married but I must confess that his wife is
only a shadow, an: enigma to me—never a sharp, clear image:
I do not even know her first name. Their household con-
sisted of a hired girl, Sally Adams, and a six-year-old niece ot
Mrs. Arnold’s named Betsey VanAmburgh. Presumably Bet-
sey was one of the three females under ten years of age lisied
in the household of “Abr'm V’n Amburgh” of Burlington in
the Census of 1800. |

The record is almost as vague when it comes to pele] as
it is about Mrs. Arnold. Arnold’s Confession gives us no ciue,

nor do the newspaper accounts, but there are a few remarks _

in Sally Adams’ testimony at the trial that provide us with
a sketchy impression of the child. She was lively, always sith
ing and good-natured: “smart to learn,” except that spelling
gave her some difficulty. Both Arnold and his wife had beer
known to punish her on occasion and some times a gon
smart whipping had proved very effective when she meeee
correction. But she was, essentially a good child, gay, playful,
normal. 2G} |

This brings us to the cold Thursday evening of January
10, 1805. I don’t know exactly how cold it was that might
but it can get mighty chilly in Otsego County about that
time of year. It had been a bad day at school for Stephen
Arnold. Every teacher will understand a little and sympathize
more than a little when he wrote in his Confesszon that on

that day he had been “provoked even to. madness, through,

the ill behaviour of my pupils’—the little squirmers nearest

fos tr

enti tari

le oa ee er

STEPHEN ARNOLD 253

—~ would depart happily at the first sign of sap running in the
“maples. The gigeling girls, the mischievous boys—and over
all the smell of wet mittens and wet pants and cow manure.

_. The tensions of Stephen Arnold’s lifetime had grown tighter

and tighter that long day. .

_ Despite this, when evening came he made the mistake of so
_many exhausted parents—he was going to help Betsey with

“= her homework. They would work on spelling and pronoun-

ciation. The book must have been open before her; the word
was “‘gig.’’ Betsey pronounced it “jig.” A few nights before

~ she had pronounced it correctly enough; what was wrong
__ with the child? There was only one way to teach an obstinate
~ or, as they said in those days, an “ugly” child. He went out
and brought back “8 beech sticks of no value,” as the court
later described them, three feet long and the size of a little
finger. His wife protested that they were too big and he said
he'd fix that. He heated them in the fire to make them sup-
ple. Then he and Betsey left the room. Outside in the cold

© he laid her over a post, pulled up her dréss, laying bare her

little backside from her ankles to her shoulders, pulling her
dress over her head so the neighbors wouldn’t hear her cries.
And he whipped her. .

They came back in the house and Betsey sat down again
with her book, sure now that she could spell the word and
pronounce it correctly. But she was wrong. Terror had
closed her memory and the letters and the word would uot
come. And out they went again to the post and the whipping
began again. When Arnold was cold they came back inside
and tried again. Six times they went outside. She had cried
very little—or at least in the house they heard very little,
but after the sixth session she said to Arnold, “Do, Uncle,
let me thaw my feet for they are a’most frozen.’” And she
kept on pronouncing it “jig.” At this point the dams of his
self-restraint came crashing down and for thirty minutes he
beat her without mercy, without control. When at last they
came back into the house, he threw the broken sticks into
the fire. He pulled up the child’s dress and his wife, looking
at the terrible lacerations, the great red bruises, said, “O!

- My God! Arnold, you have killed the child.” Truer word
Was never spoken. |

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TALKING IT OVER

From page 6

this magazine.. Whether or not you are
deeply interested in baseball, you will enjoy
“Scandal: in*the World Series” if for no
other reason, than that it is a first rate true
crime tale that keeps you quivering with
excitiment from beginning to end.

AT ipl IN THE same breath of baseball
and police work would be incomplete,
were we to overlook the new distinction
which has just come, as this is written, to
Mickey Cochrane, peerless manager of last
year’s World Champions, the Detroit Ti-
gers. “Mickey the Mike” on the same after-
noon became a full-fledged deputy sheriff of
Wayne County, Michigan, and a member
of the Michigan State Sheriff’s Associa-
tion. Wonder what some visiting team
would do if, some day just before game
time, Mickey trotted off their star players
to the hoosegow ?

OMANCE in the crime news comes out of
California. A man who fought a long

and finally successful battle to escape the
noose for the alleged murder of his wife,
now announces he again’ is embarking upon
matrimony.'-’The man is David Lamson,
former. Palo Alto press executive. More
than-two years ago, Lamson was tried for
the alleged murder of his wife, Allene
Thorpe Lamson, found mysteriously dead
in the bathroom of. the. Lamson home.
Convicted by. the first jury, he was granted
a new trial. In the. second trial the jury
failed to agree. He was tried a third time,
but this was declared a mistrial, A fourth
time, he watched a jury file out to consider
his ‘fate. This jury, also, disagreed. Last

April, therefore, the charges against Lam-'

son, were dismissed. and he was given his
freedom,

ee

HE TAKING OF HUMAN life is so far re-

moved from the mind of the normal
person, it is hard for him to rationalize
about the. deed. - For-example, does the
average ‘killer have unusual nerve? The
quick answer is..“yes.” We commonly
speak of certain types of criminals as be-
ing “nervy.” But.aré they?

Consider for a moment the case of Mrs.
Mary Frances Creighton, the Long’ Island
Borgia. If ever there-were'a “nervy” killer,
here was one. With-apparently as little
emotion as. the average housewife dieplays |F
stuffing a turkey, Mrs.’ Creighton ‘stuffed
her victims with poison, saw them die in
agony and never batted an eye.

Finally her villainy found her out.
Something slipped and she was arrested for
the poison death of the wife of her para-
mour, Everett Appelgate. Neither before
the trial nor during it, did she “break,”
give way to. a normal feeling of human
emotion. News commentators remarked
about this “stone” woman and the way she
kept her “nerve.”

But after she was doomed to die, it was
Now it seemed to dawn upon her
for the first time that death isn’t a pleas-
ant business. She who had been able to
contemplate the death of others. without a
qualm, now was stricken with awful fear
because her own life was so soon to end.
As the days slipped by and the hour of her
electrocution approached, she went all to
pieces, physically .as well as mentally. She
did little more than lie upon her cot and
moan, She became too weak to walk, too
weak. to eat. She almost. literally was
frightened to death, ;

Came the night: she was to die. There
wasn’t a-shred of the vaunted “nerve” of
this murderess. left..; She was just a slob-
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g
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tive or friend placed on the other side so that nothing can
be passed between them. Visits generally last an hour.
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tween cells; That can rarely be done by lady killers be-

But in other jurisdictions such as California, where execu-
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prison at Tehachapi, then taken to same time. As a result, those who crave- companionship

‘San Quentin the day before their execution. talk or play with the matron guarding them.
One of the favorite pastimes of a murderess is reading ‘ Matrons confess that it is difficult to bolster the spirits
the hundreds of fan letters that come of their charges, consequently they attempt to interest
some prisons the condemned woman is a. them in performing little tasks, such as washing clothes, or
mail only from relatives and close friends, but that is not _ cleaning their cells. While a murderess is occasionally al--
the general rule. lowed to sew or. knit, the opposite is the general rule. A
Surprisingly, most letters contain proposals of marriage.- condemned woman could use the needle to puncture a vein
The lady killer's victim is, in most cases, or an artery, and the state frowns upon anyone cheating
that when she reaches the death house she is generally a the chair. For that reason, no death house inmates are
widow. But she is solaced by the fact that many men write allowed to keep in a cell a toothbrush, because it may be
to say that they would be happy to court her, should she scraped to razor-like sharpness on the floor. (The tooth-
gain her freedom. You would imagine that women who _ brush is given the inmate at specified times for use, then
flavor their spouse’s food with arsenic or taken away.) Nor are they permitted to
wield a lethal weapon would be a poor use a knife or a fork during meals. In
marriage risk. Yet hundreds of worship- fact, the only eating utensil allowed is a
ping Romeos seem willing to brave the soft spoon, which is taken away from the
dangers of assassination. In fact, Ruth prisoner when the meal is over.
Snyder, who with the aid of Judd Gray Most female slayers, not unlike male
bludgeoned her husband to death, re- slayers, rarely regi books and when
ceived more than a thousand pro they scrutinize newspapers, it is only
‘before Robert Elliot, the executioner, for the purpose of seeing whether the
dispatched her to the grave. Further-
more, in her case, as in countless others,
scores of men offered to take her place

in the electric chair.
* *

as wanes

spend
brooding or listening to the, radio.
In fact, Frances Creighton brooded so

*

an

oS

PD a ip CITE

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4 condemned murderess Is
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contain proposals of
marriage from men she
never met, (Specially Posed)

— _
TRUE CRIME EXPOSES,

March, 1943

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98

frantic with dread. She had to be lifted
into a chair when her time came and car-
ried by brawny guards into the execution
chamber. In the electric chair, even’ before
the switch was turned, she slumped inert.

It was significant of this criminal’s end
that she let drop a rosary from her palsied
fingers, just before the juice was turned on.
In a last desperate effort to save her soul
from what terrors she knew not, she had
embraced the Catholic faith. She was a
moral coward as well as a physical one.
She hadn’t even the “nerve” to ‘face the
Hereafter with the same brazen disregard
for God and man which, until her last
moments, had been the sole religion of her
strangely twisted life.
pons WHO POSSIBLY can, should visit

the quarters of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation in the new Department of
Justice Building in Washington. There,
Director J. Edgar Hoover delegates courte-
ous and informative. Special Agents as
guides through the most efficient police lab-
oratory in the world.

Space does not permit description of the
various scientific devices on exhibit, devices
which, in daily use, permit Mr. Hoover's
aides to get their men even when clues seem
totally absent.

Mention may be made, however, of
one phase of the department’s work which
every visitor may see in operation. That
is the bureau of fingerprinting. On file
here are the greatest’ number of finger-
prints gathoeed in any one place in the

world, some six million odd, when the
writer inspected the files. And new finger-
prints are coming in at the rate of about
four thousand a day.

This is the central clearing house for the
fingerprint work of all city and state police
departments. It operates something like
this. A felon is arrested in Los Angeles.
Police there have no record of him. They
take his fingerprints and send them -to
Washington.’ Into Mr. Hoover’s depart-
ment comes the inky smudge. In the twink-
ling of an eye, almost, it is classified and
the master files searched to see if this man’s
fingerprints are already on file. If, they
are, his entire record is immediately laid
bare. In any event, a report is made back
to Los Angeles within a thirty-six-hour
period from the time the Washington de-
partment receives its material.

This gigantic file is supplemented by one
recording all names. But instead of there
only being six million names to go with six
million ‘fingerprints, when the writer was
there, there were seven million, five hun-
dred thousand names, for these six million
fingerprints. Aliases account for the differ-
ence in totals, the same criminal with two
or more names.

With this master name file is ‘a file of
nicknames with more than one hundred

thousand cards. Many of these nickname

cards are carefully covered to prevent them
from giving offense to the visiting public.
The covered cards contain nicknames too
obscene for polite society.

Why the nicknames, you ask? I did, too.
The importance ‘of the nickname file was
explained like this. Suppose a kidnaping is
going on. The victim is bound, his eyes
taped. -He can see nothing. But he can
hear. While he is being transported to the
kidnaper’s hideout, he may hear one of his
abductors say: “Say, Sloppy, you watch dis
guy.” “Sloppy.” The victim remembers
that name. ‘ When he is freed, he tells it to
one of Mr. Hoover’s men. That’s the tip-
off. “Sloppy.” The nickname file tells all
about him and the rest may be easy.

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—

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, to the radio.
Creighton brooded #0

much that she became paralyzed. Mrs. Creighton and
Everett Applegaite were jointly convicted in New York for

wm . the murder of Applegaite’s wife. Evidence revealed that

‘\Mrs. Creighton’s daughter had been friendly with Apple-
gaite, and that the mother had conspired with him to mur-

| der his wife so that he might marry the girl. As the day |
’ of execution approached, Mrs. Creighton became stricken ~

ands had eventually to be wheeled to the chair.
However, records reveal that she was the only murderess
within the past decade who was unable to walk the last

mile. Most female slayers meet their fate stolidly, and

Anna Antonio, perhaps, showed more bravery at the end

_ than the most fearless triggerman. In 1932, her’ husband
©. was found dead on a lonely road near Albany, New York.
' Developments swiftly revealed that Anna had hired two

gunmen, Vincent Sciata and Sam Feraci, to murder the

_ man so that she could collect $5300 insurance on him.

The accused woman denied the charges, The jury, though,

did not believe her story, and after.a long trial; Anna and

Female slayers awaiting execution

usually listen to the radio or brood

‘about their impending fate.
(Specially Posed)

her two, confederates were found guilty and sentenced to
death.”

‘On the night set for the execution, Sciata confessed that
‘Anna Antonio was innocent, and the slayers were all given
a 24-hour stay. Because of the length of time required to
study the confession, Anna was given another, and still
another reprieve, totaling three times in all that she had

’ faced execution, ony to be snatched back at the last minute.

Finally, after the court of appeals had refused a second
review of her case and the sentencing judge had denied
her plea for a new trial, Mrs. Antonio’s fate again lay in
the hands of the Governor. While waiting for his decision,
the condemned woman spent her last day listening to the
radio. “I’m nearly dead now,” she told a matron. “I have
already died'a thousand times. Why don’t they finish the
job!” .

' Hardly had she uttered those words when, as if in an-
swer to her exclamation, a report flashed over the radio.
The Governor had declined to grant any further reprieve,

‘Continued on next page}
23

re See ner Ree mtr
ao ee iam Z


MURDER ONE [| 230

was a victim of domination, a victim of circumstances—or she’s

| crazy.”

Littleton summed up for the prosecution by again running
through every facet of the case against both defendants. Judge
Johnson charged the jury, and at 9 p.m. that night the twelve
good men and true began their deliberations. At 12:30 a.m. they
reached a verdict. And on July 16, 1936, Mary Creighton and
Everett Appelgate died in the electric chair in Sing Sing Prison.
As I remarked at the beginning, they were made for each other. In
For them the chair should have been an electrified love seat.

Sn AS a RR

Yor tl

Presi

MURDER ONE [ 228

believe a woman who admittedly told as many lies as she did?
With no evidence except her word, how can you decide when
she told the truth? What is the evidence? She bought the poison.
She admits giving it to Mrs. Appelgate. She lied in her confes-
sions. She lied on the witness stand. It took a lot of gall for her to
think that twelve men would believe her.

“There is only one thing to guide you. That is the evidence.
Appelgate didn’t have to kill his wife to have intimate relations
with Mrs. Creighton. He didn’t have to kill her to seduce Ruth
Creighton. Both had been accomplished before she died.

“And how did Ada Appelgate die? She died from arsenic
poison. We don’t dispute that. We admit it. Mr. Edwards may
doubt it but we don’t. Who bought the poison? Mrs. Creighton
bought it. She admits she bought it. The drugstore clerk from
whom she bought it was brought here before her and she identi-
fied him as the man who sold it to her. She, remember, identified
him. She says she bought it for Appelgate, gave it to him, and
never saw it again. She says that. But what is the evidence? The
evidence is that she bought it. The rest is another lie.

“And then she says that Appelgate told her to give poisoned
milk to his wife. Whatever else you may think about him, you
must know he has some common sense. If he and he alone were
murdering his wife, why should he tell Mrs. Creighton? Why
should he say to her: “Here, this is arsenic. Give it to Ada.”

He reviewed Mrs. Creighton’s testimony on the witness stand
and the debacle in which it ended.

“When she was through, she was through,” he said. ““The dis-
trict attorney knocked the props from under her story until she
was a figure to sympathize with. She was demolished. I have never
seen a witness so crushed. But murder had been done, fiendish
and diabolical murder. If you believe my man did it, don’t hesi-
tate to send him to the chair. But don’t believe it on the word

of this woman.

229 ] Poison and Pedophilia

“Again I ask you not to punish him for something he didn’t do,
because of something he did do. There are statutes in this state
under which he will some day pay the penalty for what he did to
that young girl. But that, however abhorrent it is, was not mur-
der.”

After Weeks, Mr. Edwards, speaking the last word for Mrs.
Creighton, admitted the difficulty of the task.

“There has never been so unpopular a situation given a lawyer
since the defense of the man who killed President McKinley,” he
said. Mrs. Creighton’s admissions on the witness stand he sought
to explain by saying that she was “putty in the hands” of District
Attorney Littleton. “If he had asked her if she killed Abraham
Lincoln, she would have said yes,” he said. “If he had charged her
with hiding Judge Crater, she would have admitted that, too.”

Then he argued that she was also putty in the hands of Appel-
gate, that he dominated her by threatening to expose her as a
woman twice before accused of murder.

“J say she was a good wife and mother, and you can’t put your
finger on anything she did until she came under the influence of
Appelgate,” he said. “They say she is an evil, ferocious Borgia. If
she is she must be crazy.”

Again he referred to his client’s mental condition, saying that
“something snapped” after her two poison trials in New Jersey.

Admitting that he himself did not believe all Mrs. Creighton
said—particularly that Appelgate had begun his intimacies with
her by an attack—the attorney said: “I’m going to call a spade a

spade whether it helps or hurts this woman. If someone poisoned
Mrs. Appelgate’s food, he should be’ punished, and I don’t care
who it is. If this woman’s statements are true, she sits herself

plunk in the electric chair.
“But Appelgate is clever. He is smart. He fooled others. Could
he not have been the guiding influence? Gentlemen, this woman


MURDER ONE [ 226

Q. You were in between them?
A. Yes.
Q. Ruth on one side of you and your wife on the other?
A. Yes.
Q. Where was Agnes?
A. On the cot on the floor.
Q. Inthesame room?
A. Yes.
Q. Was Agnes in the nude too?
A. No.
Q. When you had this act of intercourse, did you have to get
up and go some place?
A. No.
Q. Did she?
A. No.
Q. Did you take any precautions?
A. I did.
Q. What measures did you use?
A. Do you wish me to state them?
Q. Yes, I want to know.
A. Withdrawal.
Q. And you took no other precaution?
A. None other than that.
. And she didn’t take any precaution other than relying on
what you did?
A. So far as I know. She did not get up.
Q. You didn’t care whether she became pregnant, I suppose?
A. If she did, she wouldn’t through me.
Q. Did you ever perform any other act upon Ruth other than
sexual intercourse?
Attorney Weeks objected to this question and was sustained,
since it could not be connected to a motive for the murder. But it

227 ] Poison and Pedophilia

was apparent to all that Littleton had some foundation for the
question.

The balance of the Cross-examination was an effort to connect
Appelgate directly to the purchase and use of the arsenic that had
Killed his elephantine wife. It failed.

Closing arguments began on January 24.

Elvin N. Edwards, counsel for Mrs. Creighton, was to have
spoken first. But he protested. He carried the protest into the
chambers of Judge Johnson, who ruled that Weeks, Appelgate’s
counsel, would lead off.

“T know the Purpose of Mr. Edwards in wanting to address you
after me,” Mr. Weeks said as he began his summation. “Mr.
Edwards’ client feels herself rushing and switling down into the
vortex—and she wants to drag Appelgate with her.”

Weeks plainly realized that he had to try to Separate in the
minds of the jury the charge of murder and the seduction of
Ruth Creighton. “I do not seek to excuse him for that,” the
attorney said.

“It is something which no man could excuse. But are you
going to convict him of murder because of that? Are you going
to say he is no good anyway and better off dead because he vio-
lated this young girl? Why was the gitl brought here? She testi-
fied to nothing on the murder charge. She was brought here
without the usual Touge on her lips to prejudice you against Ap-
pelgate. If that is the way you are going to judge him, then why
have this trial, why come to court? There are trees and telegraph
poles outside. You could finish it quicker that way.”

He turned then to Mrs. Creighton’s conflicting “confessions,”
which implicated Appelgate, then exonerated him, and finally
placed the blame on him alone.

“Are you going to believe her?” he asked. “Are you going to


' DOOMED TO BURN FOR

"WE BEFRIENDED HIM,
AND FOR REPAYMENT

THIS MAN DESTROYED
By MRS. FRANCES |
CREIGHTON |

ae... a

MY FAMILY, SEDUCED

“MY LITTLE DAUGHTER!" ~:~,

“IS IT TRUE?"

“Was there ever such a
beast as Everett Apple-
gate?” asks Frances
Creighton, convicted
with him after a lurid
trial.

POISON M

(Copyright: 1936: by Exposed Publishing Co.)

SITTING here in my cell, writing this story of
my life, I] can hear the muffled sounds of the
day-in, day-out routine of Sing Sing. The clang
of iron gates, the metallic ring of bolts shot into

their sockets, the tramping of prisoners’ feet, the

far-off noises from > the workshops. . Sing
Sing, home of lost hope! The temporary resting place of
blackened, fettered souls!

And I am in the death house.

At least. it is the wing that serves as “death row” for
women doomed to die. Ruth Snyder sat here before me.
So did Anna Antonio, the slayer of her husband. Sos did
Eva Coo, the insurance plotter. There have been many others.
Some have passed through the barred portals, down the
long corridor ironically known as the “dance hall” and
through the little green door that leads to Robert Elliott's
electric chair. Others have won last-minute reprieves from
Albany, and have exchanged death for life imprisonment. Still
others have been granted new trials, have been acquitted,
and have gone back to the world of flowers and trees and
living things to begin anew. *

For us women who have occupied Sing Sing’s death house
the trail has taken many turnings. In my own case I am
confident that Fate will decree a happy ending—a new trial,
vindication of my innocence, and finally a permanent reunion
with my husband and my children, whom I dearly love.

I am as sure of this as 1 have been sure of anything in
my thirty-six years. As God is my judge, I] am NOT guilty
of wilful or premeditated participation in the poisoning of
Ada Applegate. That fact will be realized by the next jury
before which I am tried. The right is bound to triumph.
My own moral courage, and the unflagging fight of my at-
torney, former District Atttorney Elvin N. Edwards, will—
and must—prove to the world that I am a God-fearing woman
with the normal emotions of any wife and mother, and not
the “modern Borgia” painted by the prosecution in Nassau
County, Long Island.

Sitting here in my cell, vaguely conscious of the unceasing
routine in New York's great penitentiary, my whole life
passes in review; passes like quick, brilliant flashes of events
in a newsreel, and again like grotesque, distorted images
in a horrible nightmare.

Sometimes, indeed, I wonder if T am not living through
a nightmare, or whether I am not already dead.

The deadline between reality and dreams is uncertain and
easily crossed. Is it true that there ever was a beast like
Everett Applegate? Is it true that I ever fell so completely
under the domination of this man that he forced me to have
disgraceful relations with him and used me as an unwitting
tool in his murder plot? Is it true that this “model citizen,”
this leader in local American Legion affairs, seduced my
haby Ruth, only fifteen years old? Is it true that I
have been convicted with him on a charge of murder
in the first degree?

If you have read the newspapers, you probably
will believe these things. You may believe, too,
that I am going to breathe my last in Sing

He

IDE DETECTIVE, MAY, 1936

Sing’s grim machinery of death.
“facts” for lies. I know, too, that | am not going to die.
this story I hope to make you readers see my side of the
case.

My childhood—and my thoughts often revert to it now—
was unmarred by any evil influences or bad associations.
There is no need to review it,\here, for it is immaterial to
Let me say only that I had a good home, re-
ceived scrupulous religious training, gained an average edu-
cation, and married at an early age.

John Creighton was the man who took me as a bride.

my defense.

loved him then and I love him now.
no men in my life, nor were there any afterward—with the
exception of a hulking blond beast who overcame me by
threats and by his brute strength. é

We lived quietly in Newark, New Jersey. Like most young
married couples, we had to struggle and save our pennies
to get along, but we were comfortable and content.
long a child was born—Ruth.
overjoyed to learn that I was going to have another baby.
This was destined to be a son whom we named John, after
his father. My husband and I felt that Providence had been
good.

About the time of Jackie’s birth, a terrible thing occurred,
and from that time onward our lives were tinged by tragedy,
overshadowed by a black mantle of fear.
ness we had enjoyed was sharply destroyed, never to return.

In 1923 my brother, Charles Avery, died suddenly at his
home in Newark. During his brief illness I had helped other
members of my family nurse him, and I prayed for his re-
Despite this, there were ugly rumors about his
death—mean, malicious lies, the vilest sort of slander, di-
The police of Newark, eager
to impress the newspapers and the public, declared that
Charles
pointed the finger of guilt at us.

Never was a charge more unfounded, never was _ there
a greater piece of calumny.
brought to trial on the accusation that we had administered
Fortunately that judge and jury

They

covery.

rected against John and me.

arsenic to Charles Avery.
in Newark were not blinded by high-flown oratory.
coldly regarded the facts and set us free.

As if this were not enough grief for one woman, the
authorities then brought me to trial on a charge of poisoning
John’s mother. Again I was able to prove my absolute
innocence.

condition.
tained my sanity.

URDER—YET

ENT !

was steady, reliable, hard-working, a good provider.

had died under “mysterious circumstances”

Yet we were

T is well to remember that I went through this tremendous

strain of being tried twice for murder shortly after I had
given birth to Jackie, and that I was in a weakened, dazed
Since that ordeal I often marveled that I re-
Believe me, it is almost worse than death
itself for a woman to see her friends and
against her, to be unjustly accused of a heinous and unnatural
crime, and to hear the word Afurderess! shrieked at her in
a courtroom crowded with her townsfolk !

Had there been any trace of guilt whatsoever on my con-

13

But I know the newspaper
In

Before him there were

Before

After two more years I was

The sweet happi-

and

indicted and

relatives turn

"9t6T *9T 4ATue. *

16 ' Tuey Diep In tHe Cnair

Creighton sat glumly, trying to hold back -his

, tears,

while he munched on fried chicken. Frances ate nothin
but a dish of ice cream. S
As Creighton left, his wife’s last words to him were:
You know your lungs aren’t very strong. You’ve got

to take better care of yourself. Promise me you'll drink

plenty of milk.”

Creighton was crying openly as he brushed by the’

reporters gathered outside the prison. He took the train
back to New York that night. As soon as Frances re-
turned to her cell, she passed into a state of coma again.
She was unconscious when the time for her execution ar-
rived. Guards carried her to the “green- room” and
deposited her almost tenderly in the chair at exactl
11:01. She did not regain consciousness. Three winnie
later she was declared dead.

At 11: 09, Appelgate entered the room. He held himself
erect. His face was serious, all the cockiness gone. He
took his place in front of the chair, then turned to address
the twenty-two witnesses to his execution.

He said in a clear voice: “Gentlemen, I want to sa
something. Before God, I am absolutely innocent of the
crime.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I hope

ne good God will have mercy on the soul of Martin W.

FOUR

THE SUGAR WOMAN
[HELEN FOWLER]

When Bill Fowler decided to spend a night on the
town, he had no idea that his spree would result in his
own death and a sensational and sordid murder trial. Bill
was 63, a small, stoop-shouldered man, thin and wiry. His

ray hair was sparse and he wore heavy bifocal glasses.
He had lived all his life in Ransomville, New York, a
short way from Niagara Falls, where he ran a gas station.
He had been married for 36 years, apparently happily,
but his wife was attending a clinic in Cleveland, Ohio, so
Bill decided that he might as well have one last fling.

Bill closed down his gas station at noon on Saturday,
October 30, 1943. He didn’t bother to dress up, but kept
on the stained trousers, khaki shirt and cap with tri-
angular buttons which served as his uniform in the filling
station.

He picked as a companion an old crony, whom he de-
scribed as “a sort of cousin,” named Lee Clark. Lee was
a year younger than Bill and quite a bit taller, but the
two mien bore a marked resemblance to each other. Like
Bill, Lee wore old work clothes, in his case a leather
jacket and overalls.

As a prelude to the big night, the two old friends
started a rambling tour of bars in Niagara Falls and vi-
cinity. Among other places they stopped at the Pekin, the
Walmore, Ma Smith’s, Shimschak’s, the Sanborn Hotel,
McKnight’s, and Sbarbati’s. At each place they had a few
drinks, usually ale or wine. As the afternoon wore on,

117


112%’ Tey Diep IN THE CHAIR

court dragged. At six, there was a ten-minute recess. Then
Littleton took up where he had left off. At times he was
sarcastic, jeering. At others, he spoke with soft-voiced

seriousness. The jury listened woodenly, exhausted by the ~

long ordeal, seemingly wanting nothing more than to

bring this sordid trial to an end. Littleton finished at a

little past eight. Judge Johnson gave his instructions to

the jury, and at 9 p.m. they filed out of the jury box,

with the understanding they must not return without a
verdict.

Everett Appelgate appeared optimistic. He left the
courtroom smiling. He was permitted one telephone call.
He rang up his brother-in-law and in an almost exuberant
voice said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be home in a little
while.” Apparently he had forgotten about the rape
charges hanging over him, if he should be acquitted of
murder. Frances Creighton paced up and down her de-
tention cell, wringing her hands, making futile gestures
of anger and despair.

The courtroom was deserted. The jury was not ex-
poctes back in less than an hour. No one who had fol-
owed the case expected an acquittal for Mrs. Creighton
but, at the close of the trial, Appelgate’s chances were
estimated as better than even. There was no direct evi-
dence against him except that supplied by Mrs. Creighton,
and much of that had been proven false.

Jz en o’clock. Eleven. Midnight. And still no word from
the jury. In the nearby inn where the reporters had
gathered, the odds on Appelgate rose steadily. At 12:30
a runner announced that the jury was bringing in its ver-
dict. The reporters rushed back into the courtroom.

Judge Johnson sat on the bench, black-robed, his face
stern. He warned the reporters against any disorderli-
ness, threatened them with contempt citations if they
interrupted the proceedings by leaving. Mrs. Creighton
came in next, flanked by matrons. She was visibly pale,
her fingers twisting. She sat down beside Edwards, but

Tue Briack-Eyep Borcia

she could not remain still. One foot twined about an
ankle and her breath came in gasps. Appelgate looked
cocky, confident.
The jury moved in silently, almost like wraiths. Their
faces were hard, grim. None of them looked at the pris-
oners. Some sat down. Others stood. Judge Johnson or-
dered them all to rise. The foreman, Zenos P. Secor,
intoned the verdict in a flat, expressionless voice: “We
find both the defendants, Frances Creighton and Everett
Appelgate, guilty of first-degree murder as charged in the

indictment.”
Surprisingly, Frances Creighton smiled. She leaned

‘over toward her lawyer, patted his hand in an almost co- |

uettish manner and whispered to him. Later it was re-
ported that she said, “It doesn’t matter. It was what I was
expecting. But I’m glad he’s going to get it too.” She
settled back and watched what remained of the proceed-
ings with a greater display of calm than she had shown
at any previous time.

Appelgate mumbled, “This won’t stand up under ap-
peal. We've got a long way to go.”

The jury was polled at Edward’s request. Then the two
prisoners were conducted to the clerk’s desk. Mrs. Creigh-
ton answered the routine questions in a voice so low that
it did not carry to the reporters. Appelgate spoke more

‘loudly. His age—thirty-six. Place of birth—Brooklyn. Ed-

ucation—one year of high school. Then he surprised the
court by a protest. His name had been misspelled
throughout the proceedings. He would like this corrected
in the court record. He spelled out the name: A-P-P-E-L-
G-A-T-E.

The trial was over. Sentence would be passed in nine
days.

The actual imposition of sentence took less than ten
minutes. Sharply at 10 a.M., on the morning of January
30, the prisoners were brought to the dock. To the
standard question of: “Have you, or either of you, any

a ee
Ea ee


(114 Tuey Diep in THE CHAIR

cause to show why judgement should not be pronounced
against you?” Frances Creighton remained silent. Appel-
gate rose, however. His manner was earnest, strangely
convincing. He thanked the judge for his fairness, then
added, “I want to state at this time that I had nothing
whatsoever to do with the preparation or administering
of the poison and knew nothing about it at any time.”

_ Judge Johnson did not look at him. He reached for a
paper on his desk and read slowly and distinctly: “The
sentence of the court is that each of you be confined in
the New York State Prison at Ossining, New York, there
to be executed according to law during the week of
March 9, 1936.” :

The verdict was a popular one, hailed by press and
public, but here and there a dissident voice arose. A re-
porter who had interviewed a member of the jury quoted
the man as saying, “Well, maybe Appelgate didn’t ac-
tually know about the poisoning. But after all you
couldn’t let the man go and kill the woman, could you?”

On Long Island, Appelgate was expelled from the
American Legion, but still a few of the Legionnaires be-
lieved him innocent of a capital offense. They banded
together to help him with his appeal. One of them said,
“It looks to me like Mrs. Creighton hated Appy and was

determined to kill him at any price. She’d murdered her °

brother and her mother-in-law and Lord knows who else.
Before she went she was determined to add Appy’s death
to her string. And the state played right along with her.
Yes, that’s the way it looks to me.”

Many thoughtful men and women doubted Appel-
gate’s guilt. Warden Lewis E. Lawes expressed such
doubts and even District Attorney Martin Littleton ad-
mitted that the case against Appy was “purely circum-
stantial.” But no man of importance dared incur public
wrath by openly defending the confessed seducer of a
fourteen-year-old girl. Each appeal was turned down, but

Tue Briack-Eyep Borcia 115

as a result of these appeals the executions were postponed
til July 16.

wAbpeloe pinned his hopes on Governor Herbert H.
Lehman. It is evident that Lehman feared an innocent
man might be executed, but he must have realized also
that a commutation of sentence for Appelgate would
bring a storm of protest. On the night S the execution |
the governor called District Attorney Littleton and in-

formed him that he was considering extending clemency
to Appelgate. Would Littleton support him in this event?
The district attorney flatly. refused. Lehman made no

‘further move.

None of these maneuvers were known to the prisoners
awaiting death in Sing Sing. Frances Creighton, whose
expressionless features had been called “masklike or
“stony cold” by the reporters, passed most of the last
few weeks of her life in a state of coma. A spreading
paralysis had taken possession of her body. She did not
eat or drink except for an occasional spoonful of ice
cream or a half-glass of water.

On the last day, Elvin Edwards, who must have enter-
tained some doubts throughout the trial concerning the
veracity of his client’s story, sent a message to her plead-
ing for her to tell the truth, and to remove the guilt from
Appelgate if he was not involved in the death of his wife.
Frances shook her head stubbornly and turned her face
to the wall. | :

John Creighton came to the prison on the last after-
noon. He was permitted to embrace his wife. They sat
down together and Frances Creighton rallied, talking al-
most cheerfully like a woman going on a short journey.
When she first looked at him, she said, “I thought sO.
You're not taking good care of yourself. I’m going to
have the matron get me some clean handkerchiefs and
Ill give them to you.”

Lace she said “Pll bet you haven’t eaten today. Well,

I’ve got a meal coming to me and you're going to eat x"


ATROLMAN Joseph O’Connor of
the Nassau County, Long Island
Police -Department was a cop
who was on his toes. He had
friends from one end to the other

of his beat in the pleasant residential _
community of Baldwin. He was al-
ways saying to his friends, “If you
hear of anything queer that turns up,
tip me off.”

On Saturday morning, September
28, 1935, one of Patrolman O’Connor’s
friends—the driver.of a bakery truck—
heard of something queer. One of
the driver’s customers on Bryant Place
—a woman who specialized in know-
ing what was going on—ordered a
dozen rolls, pointed to’a crepe on the
door of a sm stucco bungalow. at
No. 12, and said to the bakery man,
“If you ask me, there’s something odd
about Mrs. Appelgate’s death.”

“You don’t say,” said the driver.
Mrs. Everett Appelgate, who had died
the day before, had been a customer of
his, as had’ Mrs. John Creighton, who,
with her husband and 15-year-old
daughter, Ruth, shared the bungalow
with Mrs. Appelgate and her husband
and their two.children. The driver
had always liked Mrs. Appelgate—a
jolly, talkative woman in her middle
thirties, who had weighed more than
250 pounds—but there was something
about Mrs. Creighton, possibly her
strange, dark eyes, that repelled: him.
“Why do you t ink there’s something
odd?” asked the driver.

“Mrs. Creighton and her husband
‘were tried for a poison murder in New
Jersey. twelve years ago—and she
tried to poison me only last year.”

The driver gulped. “You don’t say!”

“I do say,” said the woman. “And
I have proof.” She stopped Shree.
“You'll have to excuse me. ere
goes my phone.”

HE driver tipped off - Patrolman

O’Connor and Patrolman O’Connor

swent around to see the woman who
thought there was something odd
about Mrs. Appelgate’s death. She
had proof of at least part of her state-
ment. She had photostats of stories
in the New York Daily News of 1923
about thé trial in Newark, New Jersey
of Mr. and Mrs. John Creighton for
the alleged arsenic murder of Mrs.
Creighton’s 18-year-old brother, Ray-
mond Avery, allegedly for insurance.
The Creightons had both been ac- .
quitted.

SING-SING BOUND—

After his trial, Applegate starts
last journey to the electric chair.

A murder she did not commit,
rather than the one she did,
sent her to the chair

A
NEW YORK
Crime Classic

“How come,”
wanted to know
hold of these |

The woman s
a bitter quarre’
some months };
Mrs. Creighton
branch and, b:
the renewal o:

‘baked a cake {

of the cake hac
and accused M)
to poison her.
handsome, big :
had laughed s
was accused of
Jersey in ninei
they couldn't ;
Thus the nei
New York Pub
back numbers
had the photost
anything about
now,” she told
“but I thought i
some day.’
“What make
something quec
pelgate’s death‘
“T just think

N hour late:
laid the phe
Harold R. K

tive division «
Police Departn
middle-aged co
acquaintanceshi
knew the App
who Mrs. Crei
had not known :
for murder. Sh
the County En;
the Nassau Co
Mineola, and }
comme of time:
ing knew }
husband of the
Appelgate, a w:
nent in Nass:
Legion circles
an administra
Nassau County
was a quick, u
40, who liked h
King had hearc
He had, the pi
the office of ¢
the Legion an
close election.
King gave
asked him if h«
on the q. t. Th
on Saturday «
sate was laid «
iving room of
low, and her
for the Monda:
Appelgate lo

through the w:

into King’s o
King wanted
knew the Cre’
tried for murc
Appelgate
Creightons. T
plained to hi:
the unfortunat
when the two
share the littl
penses a year
that’s Mrs. C
brother comm
arsenic,” Apps«
Mrs. Appelg
had been ill «
for a year, anc
tions. Everythi:
sense. A gooc
the right tim:
though he hac
suspicious.

eS

the man as the wide-eyed group of rail-
road men surrounded him.

“Look! He's gagged” the conductor
shouted. ,

Quickly the man was freed and his pag
removed,

He sat up, rubbed his arms and legs
and then burst into an unintelligible
jargon as he arose.

“He’s a foreigner,” Thibedeau said.
“Sounds like Italian to me. Anybody
know what he’s saying ?”

The man continued to wave his arms
and speak excitedly. Then he bowed
solemnly, turned and disappeared into the
darkness,

“Hey!” the fireman shouted, “come
back here.”

“Let him go,” Thompson counseled.
“We're late now. We'll report it to the
local authorities on our next trip back.”

Within a few minutes the train was
underway and silence once again per-
vaded the desolate section between Utica
and Herkimer, N, Y.

From his place of concealment in the
bushes, the man whose life had just been
saved heaved a sigh of satisfaction.

“The saps,” he muttered. “That line
of chatter fooled ’em.” He rubbed his
wrists reflectively. “And lucky for me
they saw me in time.”

Then he ambled slowly down. the
tracks, and soon, he, too, had vanished
into the darkness.

As he neared the city Imits of Utica
the night whistle at a factory told of the
change in the night shift.

The man quickened his steps and a few
ininutes later swung into a dark alley.
He rapped mysteriously on a door and
was admitted.

Candle flames threw blurred, dancing
shadows against the wall. The feeble,
pallid rays outlined the forms of five men
seated in chairs neatly arranged against
the wall.

EFORE them, at a rickety table that

served as a desk, sat a man whose
tight-fitting clothes revealed his bulging
muscles.

“You're late,” he snapped.

“I went to see Ray Allen,” he burst
out, “and T told him exactly what you
said—pay up, or else.

“He had a couple of friends there. They
jumped me and took me down to the New
York Central tracks where they tied me
tu the rails.”

The leader nodded grimly, lifted the
cover from a cigar box.

“All right,” he said. “Allen dies.
Black button does the job.”

“T want him,” the new arrival snarled.

“You'll follow orders and draw like the
rest of us,” the leader snapped.

Slowly the group filed past the box,
reached in, and then each one placed his
button on the table.

“Black,” said the late-comer jubilantly.
He had drawn the death symbol.

At 6 o'clock the same afternoon, a
short, slightly built man idled lazily in
the 500 block on Elizabeth street, osten-
sibly looking into store windows. In
reality his sharp eyes carefully scanned

40

every passerby. From the far end of the
strect a man strode jauntily forward.

The watcher’s eyes glanced at the heavy
khaki uniform and he stepped quickly
into the friendly concealment of a dark
doorway.

The crisp footsteps came closer and
closer and the man in the doorway
tightened the grip on the gun in his
pocket.

The man in khaki passed the doorway
and continued down the street.

The other man stepped from the door-
way and followed his quarry to Elizabeth
street.

THE man in the khaki coat turned into

a butcher shop and made a purchase.
Then he walked to the doorway and put
a cigarette into his mouth.

Suddenly his eyes widened as they
stared into the muzzle of a revolver, The
cigarette fluttered to the steps.

There was a sharp, staccato burst of
flame . . . another and another, and the
victim fell with a single hole through his
forehead to attest to the marksmanship
of his killer.

The assassin casually stepped over to
the body of his victim, looked closely at
the staring eyes and shivered.

“That isn't Allen!” he muttered un-
believably.

He turned and disappeared into the
darkness.

The scene in front of the little neigh-
borhood meat market became bedlam.

The butcher ran into the street, shriek-
ing wildly and waving his arms in furious
gestures.

“He went that way,” he shouted, point-
ing down the street at the fleeting figure.

Then somebody covered the body of
Rocco Fiorillo, ex-soldier, war hero and
prosperous baker.

Detective John B. Grande, ace of the
Utica homicide squad, was called and
carcfully searched the scene. Nota single
detail escaped his sharp glance.

From the sidewalk in front of the steps
he picked up the empty brass jackets.
“They're .32's,” he told himself,

Then he examined the body and
whistled softly as he noted the deadly
accuracy of the assassin.

“Say,” he said, “any man who can
pump three slugs into a single hole . . .”
He turned to the butcher, “Did you see
him ?”

The man was trembling, “It happened
so quickly,” he said. “Rocco bought some
lamb chops, walked to the door and
started to light a cigarette. Then there
were the shots, I saw the man only for
a second. He wore a hat pulled down
over his eyes. All I know is that he’s
short and had a mustache.”

From the butcher shop Grande went
to the victim's home but the victim’s wife
was unable to give him any help.

She knew of no motive and no reason
for the brutal slaying.

“The gang didn’t bother him because
his business wasn’t big enough,” she said.

Grande’s interest quickened. “Gang ?”
he queried. “What gang is that?”

The woman shuddered. “I don’t know
anything about them,” she said, “except

Antonio Posterino, above, headed

one of the i 4 fangs which

made a shambles

tica streets.

Fiorillo’s assailant, below, Raffaele
Amendola, admitted that he had

killed the wr
he easily could

man but thought
eat the death rap.

that Rocco
the bigger
pay for pri
usually got

Grande \
he returned

For mont
whispering:
izing Uticz
plaint had |

A GRA
report
there was a
He turnec
tall, overalle.
“You’re D
the man aske
Grande no
“My name
“T’m a New °
other night o
almost killed


black form

tracks,
1 exclaimed.

wn, Come

1 scrambled
ixious con-
ig their lan-
| for the un-
‘ye Limited

section of
e was Ieb-

ls,” the en-
ainmen,
ated from

Rocco: Fiorillo, below, was the innocent
victim of the gun-wielder and died in the
doorway of the shop before which the mur-
derer stood at the cross-marked spot, above.

“War to the death!’’
cried rival mobs; but
Utica police wrote the
final chapter :': a scarlet
drama of bloody violence.


, headed
18 which
i streets.

that Rocco used to tell me that some of
the bigger business men in town ‘had to
pay for protection. If they didn’t they
usually got beat up.”

Grande was in a thoughtful mood when
he returned to detective headquarters.

For months now there had been strange
whisperings that a gang was. terror-
izing Utica businessmen but no com-
plaint had been made.

S GRANDE wrote a_ preliminary
report on the murder of Fiorillo
there was a nervous cough behind him.
He turned: and his gaze took in the
tall, overalled figure of an elderly man.

“You're Detective Grande, aren't you?”
the man asked.

Grande nodded,

“My name is Thompson,” the man said,
“I’m a New York Central engineer. The
other night on my run to New York we
almost killed a fellow who was tied to

The photo-diagram, above, shows how Amendola was tied to railroad
tracks to meet death beneath the grinding wheels of a locomotive.
Left, warring gangsters chased a rival into a cafe and emptied their
guns in an abortive mob assassination of the gang members.

the rails.’ The detective’s eyes
brightened.

“After we untied him he ran away. I
think he was an Italian.”

The detective led the engineer to a
huge wall file and shuffled a pile of pic-
tures.

“Look through this stuff,” he said.
“There's a chance you might find a pic-
ture of him in this bunch.”

The detective returned to his report
and the engineer flicked through the pile
of photographs.

The engineer finally returned to
Grande’s desk,

“That's the fellow,” Thompson said,
placing a photograph in front of the de-
tective.

“Hmm,” Grande said. “Raffaele
Amendola. One year for carrying con-
cealed weapons. Six months for assault,
second degree. This man is a former
sharpshooter in the Italian army,

“Much obliged,” he told the engineer.
“We'll pick him up and see what hap-
pens.”

“To wish you would,” the engineer said.
“Our train was 15 minutes late, and I've
got to have something definite to report.
Company regulations, you know, and
they're strict, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grande re-
marked, “We'll bring this fellow in and

let you know. And don’t say anything
about it in the meantime.”

Grande pondered the strange story of
the engineer and studied again the record
on Amendola. “Former sharpshooter,”
he murmured to himself. His thoughts
reverted to the three shots that had killed
Fiorillo, all fired with such fiendish,
deadly marksmanship that there was but
a single hole to show where they had
crashed through the skull.

E PUT on his hat and coat, stuffed
the picture into his pocket and
drove back to the butcher shop.

“Ever see this fellow before ?” he asked.

The butcher studied the police photo
carefully.

“That mustache is the only thing that
looks anywhere near like the man who
killed Rocco,” he said.

But beyond that the butcher could tell
the detective nothing.

Grande began to make inquiries in the
neighborhood as to Amendola's where-
abouts. But nobody would talk. The de-
tective kept doggedly at his task.

Late that night, tired and discouraged,
as he walked by a house on lower Broad
street, a light blazed behind a drawn
window shade.

[Continued on page $2]

41


\ 4h.

ih t
a ihe

The detective looked up casually. He
saw: the silhouette figure of a man. Sud-
denly he stiffened. There was something
familiar about the shadowy outline.

Hat and coat went on, and then the
detective’s pulse quickened as the pan-
tomime continued. The man in the room
turned . sideways and picked an auto-
matic from a table, studied it a moment
and then dropped it into his coat pocket.

The lights were turned off.

Grande ran silently to the rear of the
building, arriving just as a door opened
cautiously and a man stepped out.

The unsuspecting quarry walked con-
fidently toward the street.

Grande reached out with a quick jerk
and grabbed the man’s coat, twisted it,
and forced him to the ground.

Deft hands removed the gun from the
suspects pocket. Handcuffs clicked and
Grande dragged his captive out to the
street.

The bright lights of a street lamp il-
luminated the man's features.

“Amendola,” Grande grunted, “never
stand between a light and a window
shade.”

Dmx? the weeks rollowing Amen-
dola’s arrest a wave of unprece-
dented terrorism broke out in Utica.

At 2:30 o’clock one morning flames
roared through an apartment house on
Hubbell street and only the heroism of
firemen averted a holocaust. Twenty
families fled for their lives... men,
women and children.

Police found unburned tins of gasoline
and other evidence of incendiarism in the
ruins but there were no tangible clues to
the arsonists.

The next morning bullets roared

‘through a cafe at Albany and Blandina

streets. Again no clues.

Next an auto rounded a corner on
Broad street and a barrel crashed into
the front of a saloon. Horrified specta-
tors found the broken body of a man
wedged in the barrel. And still the reign
of terrorism continued.

Fred Augustine, prosperous grocer,
stood behind the counter of his grocery
one afternoon at Oak and Martin streets.

Two men entered. While one remained
at the door, the other walked up to the
grocer and fired twice. The bullets killed
him instantly. -

On the night of the Augustine murder,
Grande walked into Amendola’s cell. He
had been tried for the murder of Fiorillo
and given a death sentence. Grande was
hoping the man would see the futility of
silence,

“You're going to talk, "he said. “Your.

gang’s gone crazy, shooting and killing,
burning and robbing. | You’re going to
tell us who they are.’

Amendola sneered.

“Listen, copper,” he said, “don't worry
about those fellows. They'll take care of
themselves. And anyway, how do you
know it’s us?”

Grande shrugged. “Then tell me why
you shot Fiorillo,” he urged, trying des-
perately to keep the man talking.

“Well, it’s like this,” Amendola said.
“Ever hear of Ray Allen?”

am:

“Crimson § Sara of New Y york's Gang Feudists.

cantante’ from page 41)

Grande’s face was blank.

“Well,” the killer said, “that’s who I
was after.”

He described how he had been tied
to the railroads tracks. “The guy I was
looking for wore the same kind of a
soldier’s uniform that Fiorillo did. It
was dark and I made a mistake.”

Grande nodded grimly. “Who's Allen?”
he asked.

Amendola laughed. “Don't worry
about him,” he said. “His number's up.”

“You know you're going to the chair,
don't you?” Grande queried.

The prisoner laughed again. “Not me,’
he said. “My friends will get me out sf
here.”

But Amendola was wrong. Day after
day. passed and none of his friends made
any effort to communicate with him or
to assist him.

In the meantime, death and terror
continued to stalk the city.

John Budainski, a saloon keeper, re-
ported an attempt to kill him.

Two men chased Salvatore Nicolo into
a South street saloon and calmly volleyed
a dozen shots into his body.

The newspapers continued to headline
new atrocities and all the while the man
whom Grande thought could have put a
stop to it sat smugly in jail and waited
for a deliverance that never came.

One morning an officer walked over
to Grande’s desk and put down a letter.

“This came to my house this morning,
by mistake,” he said. “The children
opened it. IT want you to read it.”

Grande scanned the note, It read:

“You pay the $500 at once. Next time
we kill.’

“Who's it addressed to?” the detective
asked.

The policeman showed him the enve-
lope.

“Antonio Maraffa, Broad street.”

Grande whistled. “Wow,” he ex-
claimed. “That fellow's one of the big-
gest poultry dealers in town.”

The headlines the next day described
an attempted assassination of Maraffa.
The produce dealer had been standing in
front of his warehouse when two men
leaped from an auto and slashed him
twice across the face.

One by one police broke the cases.
For the incendiary fire in which 20 people
almost lost their lives in the Hubbell

‘ street apartment, Antonio Garfolo, 35,

got 15 years in Auburn prison.

For the attack on Maraffa, police mad¢
an arrest, but the suspect, despite his
identification by the dealer, won his free-
dom with an iron-clad alibi.

Right up to the very last day Amen-
dola’s bravado failed to break.

Then, a few hours before he was to go
to the chair, after the warden had notified
him that the governor refused to grant
him a reprieve, Amendola saw Grande
once again. >

“You-know that your friends have let
you down, don’t you?” Grande asked.

“Yes,” Amendola said. “It doesn’t
make any difference now. I’ll tell you
who they are.”

The detective scribbled names into his
notebook. “Raymond Allen,” he wrote.

“Antonio Posterino, Pietro Battaglia.
Sam Larrazo.”

“That’s all I can tell you,” Amendola
said. “Allen wasn’t in the gang. He’s
the fellow who tied me to the railroad
tracks. He runs a drug company.” He
mentioned the name of a large Utica
concern.

Grande whistled,
name is—”

“Yeah, but we call ttn Allen,” Amen-
dola went on, “and his racket is alcohol.
That's what started all this. He crossed

“But the owner's

_me up. But our boss is Posterino.”

The guards came for the condemned
man,

Grande walked into the death house
and sat down with the witnesses.

Finally they brought in Amendola.
The guards quickly strapped him to the
chair. All the while, the doomed man
stared steadily at the Utica detective, a
smile playing about his lips, The the
mask shut his face from view. There
was a sharp, crackling noise and it was
all over.

Grande was grim on the trip back to
Utica.

Amendola’s story was full of holes. He
was sure of that but he was going to
check that list anyway. -

The list was turned over to the police
chief and the work of checking up began.

Battaglia was first.

Bu one night, just as detectives were
about to close in on him, a car slid
smoothly up in front of a theatre .in
Lansing street.

Battaglia walked toward the curb,
laughing and joking with a friend.

A dark figure leaped from the car.
There was the arcing flash of a steel
blade, and Battaglia fell dead. His head,
cleanly decapitated, rolled into the gutter.

Larrazo was next on the list of marked
men. Investigation led to his identifica-

* tion as the man who pumped the shots

into Nicolo.

But detectives were too late. Larrazo
proved to be the man whose body,
crammed into the barrel, had been hurled
against the side of the Broad street
saloon.

Reprisals? Certainly, Grande knew.

Of Amendola’s list, only two names
remained, Allen and Posterino and no
trace could be found of either man.

Then one night, in a modest little
house, scented strongly with perfume and
incense, a man and a woman embraced
each other on a comfortable davenport.

A big name band was on the radio.
Glasses clinked, and Rosa Montez, slim,
attractive brunette, cuddled the man’s
head in her lap. .

“Antonio Posterino,” she said play-
fully, “you're a bad boy. What would
my husband say?”

The man looked into her ‘eyes. “You
need a drink,” he said. “You look
scared.”

The woman sighed and deep shadows
seemed to darken her eyes.

“I am, Tony,” she said. “I’m scared
to death Ray Allen will find you here
with me.”

Posterino laughed.

“Don’t be silly.
will never bother
more of the liqu
ened.

He flashed a
$400 there,” he ;

uw

affectionately.
and then we'll h

With an effor:
herself. “Did y«
asked tensely.

Posterino rosc
features.

“What's the n
“Don’t forget, y
Allen’s.”

The woman f
it,” she said. “I
jealous.”

“That’s bette
“Let’s drink up.’

The woman's
close to her. I
glint in her spar

“Tony,” she
head man now.”

The killer smi:

“That's better,

The woman k

“You're smart
“You got Allen
any of them. A’
of hig in Utica f.

“Allen was ac

The woman pr
his hand. Poste:

“We got wise
ginning,” he sai
sent Amendola o
to pay just like

“Were you sca

Posterino’s ch
growled. “But w
payoff. Amend
and Allen and hi
to the railroad
the spikes.”

He burst into

“Remember th
he said.

The girl nodd:

ELL, All

terino lat
me, ‘Tony, you
T’ll cut your hea
said, ‘Yeh,’ he
Battaglia.” Well
now?”

The woman
killer.

“I’m yours, Tx

Posterino gulr

“You don’t k
said. “One day
who didn't like .
me. it’s worth &
That’s like getti
baby,” he said.

“A couple of
across Ray, and

“Ray, let's you
said okay, and ]
still we could |
Fulton and we \

“We drove c
and then I tur
pretty soon I st

“TI said to Ra:
out.’

“Just as Ray
slugged him ove
and he fell out 1:
I carried him b
road and putas
left him there.”


and with-

a bit of
»ws while
vnund the
) let them

ag. I was
t have to
now you.”

shop on R
still there,
vers E. H.

Island 37
more, the
p made.a
ims as the
gun.

was to it.
prove that
-ssession at
-ould prove
been fired
n did that.
idence we
nitted he’d

” he* said.
nair for it
uy up once
as an easy
- that night.

ontinued

ehead and
ud.

was trying
vs borrowed
ed we'd pin
ad out- who
the case.”
girl, of her
and decided
iing. ~ After
he had her
‘ortable in a
>» her every
in’t see his.
vas Thelma
case make it
1 date?

blonde, ob-

‘king much in
ion.

ad at this sort
» with a series

about herself, -

nd all the rest:
x in her chair

m and on.

to get out of
e been working
+r that it’s nice
lic to a girl like

But he pulled a gun on me and I had
to shoot him.”

McRee and Atkins had been in on it,
he said. The two girls had been out in
the car.

Adams, however, denied any connec-
tion with the killing in Osceola or the
jobs in Memphis. I had the best case
against him anyway so he was extra-
dited to Augusta.

Adams pleaded not guilty. He was
sentenced to die and on June 5, 1942,
he was electrocuted.

McRee and Atkins were sentenced
to life imprisonment.

I went back to the Ozarks and
picked up Adele, just as I’d promised
her I would. I took her to Augusta
and there she and Mavis Sparks were
found guilty of being accessories after
the fact. They were given five years
each and the sentences were suspended
during their good behavior.

I went home then. I was through
traveling around the country for a
while, I hoped.

The names Mavis Sparks and Adele
Chandler are fictitious in this story to
protect the identities of women who
have been given a chance to lead a
new, decent life. j

from Page 8)

“Eddie said he’d have to wait another
day or two, but he promised it by.
Christmas.”

’ McDermott’s eyes glittered, but the
girl couldn’t see that.

“Sq Eddie’s broke,” he said with a
grin. “Aren’t we all? Don’t tell me
that he booked your bet on Sweetbud
and now he can’t pay off!”

“Him!” The girl laughed. “Not Eddie.
He’s got his own racket. He’s an elec-
trician. But there’s a fellow who goes
with my aunt and he takes bets. That’s
where Eddie bets.”

“Well, well.” McDermott chuckled.
“Maybe I’d better see Eddie so I can
put some money down on a winner.
He sounds lucky.”

“T hope so,” said Thelma. “We're

‘going to be married, and—well, I hope-

he’s lucky.”

She rose and ‘with a nod, McDermott

told her she could go. He followed her
to the door of the squad room and
with a slight motion of his head in-
dicated that Carter should follow her.

S™= went back to her rooming-house,
and about 9 o’clock that night,
a young fellow came up the front
steps, rang the bell and went inside.
A few minutes later he came out
Mh tty tel and Carter stenned art

——
aan

friend, a tall, chunky man with ex-
pensive ‘clothes, as George Miller.

During the inevitable intermissions
that evening, Byrne and the other man
became friendly and confidential.

Byrne said he was pressed for
money. The older man told him he
“just wasn’t smart.”

He explained that he had returned
from Chicago only a few days before.

“I got a contact with the big mob
there,” he said. “They’re going to set
me up in the bookie business. Why
don’t you come in?”

“I got no dough,” said Eddie.

“You don’t need it,” his new-found
friend replied. ‘“Chicago’s taking care
of that.”

The partnership was arranged then
and there. Byrne became the front
man; Miller handled the bets.

For a time all went well, then the
luck began to turn. There were frantic
telegraphed appeals to Chicago for
money, but no answer. :

At last Miller was desperate.

“T’ye got a gun,” he said. “You spot
me a place and I’ll knock it off. We
got to get dough.”

From his, acquaintanceship with
Thelma Phillips, Byrne knew that the
neighborhood delicatessen was a busy
shop and took in a lot of money in a
night. He watched the place and told
Miller the best time to stick it up.’

Everything went fine, except that
the proprietor objected -to handing
over the money, and in the excitement
a shot was fired.

Buried in

“That could be an act, Dixon,” Pit-
cock replied. “If it’s not, it’s the only
thing I can see in your favor.” ‘He
paused, then said, “Let’s you and me
do some real talking, Dixon—talking
that makes sense.”

At that moment several detectives
came in from searching the church.
They had evidence and_ lots of it,

Bloodstained trousers in the church—

pantry, pushed back under a heavy
piece of furniture. A bloodstained rag,
the stains spaced in such a manner
as to give the appearance of having
been wiped on the rag from a bloody
hand. A hat, with blood on the brim.
A pair of gloves with blood on the
inside. Some crumpled and _ bloody
paper. Pes

LL of these items were found in
various parts of the church and
had been hidden with considerable
care. “Also,” Detective Lieutenant oO.
N. Martin said, “I noticed some spots
on the stairs that might be blood.”
Major Pitcock took the bloodstained
tronsers and made a quick examina-

They split $65 on that one, but it
was soon gone. Miller kept after Byrne
to help him with another holdup and
the young electrician decided that the
restaurant, which he suspected of be-
ing a speak-easy as well, would have
a lot of money around.

Not wanting to slip up on this one,
they laid their plans in advance. Byrne
volunteered the information that he
could get a car.

“Some sap is trying to beat my time
with Thelma,” he said. “He’s gota
Studebaker that looks plenty fast and
he parks it in the street.”

Thus it happened that Daniels’ car
was borrowed early on the morning
of December 22. Byrne, with his elec-
trical experience, had no trouble in
short-circuiting the ignition.

And he had suggested that the car
should be returned to its original park-
ing place, just in case-it had been
spotted.

“Let ’em make trouble for that
chiseler,” he said and grinned.

BU. what Byrne hadn’t known was
the fact that Miller pumped three
bullets into Lieutenant Kemmer, for he
ran out before the shots were fired.

“J only pinked him,” said Miller as
he joined his companion outside.

Armed with Miller’s address, Mc=

Dermott and a raiding party stormed
the rooming-house that night. The
place was on Stuyvesant Avenue in
Brooklyn, and despite the landlady’s
protests that nobody by the name of

Miller lived there, they rushed to a
rear room on the second floor where
Byrne had told them his friend lived.

The door yielded to the first crack
of a husky shoulder and McDermott
was just in time to see a tall, swarthy
man with flaring ears make a dive
for the bed.

E STOPPED in his tracks, however,

with the detective’s gun on him.
Then, under the pillow, they found a
.38 caliber revolver, the same weapon
that killed Lieutenant Kemmer, as it
later turned out.

To make his case complete, McDer-
mott opened a closet door and brought
forth a blue chinchilla overcoat.

But George Miller wasn’t the man
in the handcuffs. His real name was
George Appel, he was 41 years old,
married and the father of two chil-
dren. He and his wife were separated.

On December 28, Appel and Byrne
were indicted for murder in the first
degree and went to trial January ii,
1928. A Queens County Court jury
quickly brought in a verdict of guilty
against Appel, but disagreed on Byrne.
~ Later Byrne pleaded guilty to mur-
der in the second degree and was sen-
tenced to serve from 20 years to life.

Appel went to the death house _and
was executed in Sing Sing on Feb-
ruary 26, 1928.

>The names of Thelma Phillips, Carl
Daniels and Theresa Kennard are
fictitious to protect innocent persons.

the Belfry (Continued from Page 11)

he knew who else was there. Why

should an innocent man lie?”

“LLet’s send the boys out to see what
else we can learn about Dixon and
his whereabouts that day,” the Major
said. “Maybe somebody actually saw
him entering or leaving the church.”

Lieutenant Martin and other detec-
tives were assigned to this duty. They
talked to persons who: lived in the
vicinity of the church,-to the custodian
of another church across the street
and to persons who lived in the same
house’ Dixon did.

_‘They discovered a peculiar thing.

That morning, April 12, Dixon had
asked seven different persons to work
for him during the afternoon, includ-
ing his son, Lonnie. The opening base-

ball game of the season had been

played in Little Rock that day and
Dixon had wanted to attend the game.

Every one of the men, however, had
refused.

“J don’t know,” said Major Pitcock,
when he learned this. “Could be that
the fellow was trying to establish an
alibi for himself in advance, but I

“I keep a change of clothes in the
church. They weren’t there when I
got back from the ball game. They
weren’t worth much and so I just let
it go that way,” Dixon said.

“You know what your life will be
worth if people around town hear that
we're questioning you in the murder
of Floella McDonald—or do you
know?” |

“I know it won’t be worth much,”
Dixon said. :

-“And you can’t add to what you’ve
told us?”

“Not a thing, Major.”

“If you are telling the truth I hope

we can add to it,” Pitcock told him.

“Now about these men you asked to
work for you. Has any of them ever
been in the church with you?”

“Why, yes; they all have. But just
to look around. It’s a new church,
you know, and very nice. ‘I worked
in the old church and after they built
this one I liked to show my friends
around in it. I was a little proud.”

“Would they have known about you
keeping clothes in there—that change

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Pos

could aid Kemmer. They knew the Lieutenant
wasn't dead for they heard the sharp sound of a
fierce struggle in the restaurant proper.

Tables and chairs went over. A wooden parti-
tion was splintered. The door opened and one man
ran out of the place. Then sharply and suddenly
came the roar of two quick shots.

Heise and Schneider heard the door open hastily
and the sound of running feet. Then came a
moan and several unsteady steps. Seconds later
the men heard the thud of a falling body.

Before long a passerby, attracted by the shouts
of the bound men, entered and released them.

McDermott arrived a short time later and found
the dying Kemmer still clutching the notebook in
which he had tried to record the license number
of the getaway car of his killers.

That was the time-table of the crime. Now for
the investigation. Who were these killers?) Where
was their car?

In his very first efforts to trace the car McDer-
mott had a break within a matter of minutes. First,

persons in the neighborhood had noticed a brown
car streak away from the scene right after the
killing.

Then Patrolman John J. Dougherty, on reserve
at the Glendale Police Station, was
returning from his breakfast when
an excited citizen came up and said
that his car had just been in a
collision with another machine a
block from the restaurant.

HIS man—his name was Tom

JeMfreys- knew nothing about the
holdup and murder, but he was in-
censed at the fact that the machine
had failed to stop after crumpling
his fender.

He missed the license number, but
he identitied the car as a brown
Studebaker. His own car was blue.

Dougherty, noting the stream of
police oflicisls pouring into the res-
taurant. followed them and gave his
information to McDermott.

“That was the getaway car,”
snapped the detective. “Now we're
getting somewhere. Serd out an

alarm for a brown Studebaker with
a Jiccnse number that starts with
6N 53.”

This was before the days of the
police radio, and the detective chicf
knew that some time would clapse
before he got results—if any.

In the meantime, there was much
to be dore at the scene.

Detective Bill Carter and the boys
from the Homicide Saued were as

busy as a hen with chiskens. Fin-
#er-print men dusted every cen-
ceiveble spot where the bitters
might have Jeft a trace. They
found nothing.

Carter, however, assembled the

few clews at the scene.

He had the wire that was used
to tie up Heise and Schneider. He
had a hat which one of the two
men had dropped in the scuftle
with Kemmer.

One of the investigators had
found a small piece of material
wedged into a erack in the broken
partition, evidently when Kemmer
and the bandit wrestled into it.
A quick check disclosed that it
had not come from Kemmer’s coat.
Lust but not least were two slips of paper tound
under a table in the kitchen. Each bore the cryptic
noi ition:

“Sweetbud 10—0—0.”

McDermott examined all these things on a cleared
table in the dining-room, and to him it was much
like reading a book.

lirst. he took the wire.

“This is good stuff,” he said to Carter. “The
iverage person wouldn’t have it around. It’s fine
cepper, with a smooth coating of silk. I’d say that

the man who had this was an electrician, or closely
commected with the eleetrical business. Your aver=
age bum uses picture wire or rope to tie up his
Virvims, but not this fellow. This wire was close
at hond, so he brought it along.”

Certer, taking notes, nodded his head in agree-
nent.

A later check at an electrical supply store backed
up McDermott’s reasoning. Experts said the wire
was of fine quality—the type not generally used by
amateurs.

McDermott turned his attention next to the wisp
of cloth caught in a crack of the wrecked partition.

“No sense guessing on this,” he told Carter. “Send
it over to the laboratory and they’ll tell us what
kind of a coat the mug was wearing. They’ll prob-
ably give us a descr iption of his eyebrows by the
time they finish.”

Carter placed the small piece of cloth in an

8

“The

envelope and dispatched it to Headquarters.

The slips of paper came next.

To McDermott, these plainly were horse-bet
markers,

“Two people bet ten bucks each on Sweetbud to
win,” he said. “Give me a morning paper and I’ll
find out if the nag was running and what he paid
if he won,”

He soon discovered that Sweetbud, a rank out-
sider, paid off at 40 to 1., He beckoned to Heise.

“These slips were under a table in your kitchen,”
he said. “What do you know about them?”

Heise shrugged.

“Nothing,” he said. “Maybe that’s what the big
fellow dropped when he pulled out cigarettes. When
he took out the pack something fell to the floor,
but I was all wrapped up in wire then and didn’t
pay much attention.”

“Whoever placed those bets has $800 coming, and
some bookie is likely to go broke if he pays off,”
McDermott said to himself. “It might just be that
one of those men was trying to get. enough dough
together to square his losses.”

The last item he had to consider was the hat. ~

It was a tan felt, and inside was the label, “De
Luxe Cafeteria Hat Store, Chicago, Il.”

all that had happened

Killers

Because They Hoped We'd Pin the
Job on the Owner. Find Out Who

Hated Him and We’ll Crack the Case”

4

The detective scribbled off a telegram to Chicago,
asking the police there to ‘drop around to the hat
store and make some inquiries. He had little hope

that it would accomplish much as many stores don’t -

take the names of customers who. make a cash
purchase.
This finished, McDermott was just about to leave,

when Carter came up with something in his hand..

“T found this on the floor by the counter,” he
said, opening his palm,

In it lay a misshapen bullet, apparently of .38
caliber,

“This is one of them,” said Carter.
have gone right through him.”

The Detective Chief glanced at it quickly and
nodded agreement.

“It’s a break,” he said. “The gun that fired that
slug may have been used somewhere else around
here. Let’s find out.”

So the bullet was dispatched to Centre Street to
join the wisp of cloth under the microscopes.

Only then did Lieutenant McDermott leave the
scene of the murder and return to his desk in the
police. station.

The vast police net had been cast. Now he waited
for the catch.

The usual preliminaries passed without incident.
Heise and Schneider looked over pictures in the
Rogues Gallery. They could not pick out either
bandit. The alarm for the getaway car went

“It must

-here who is fingering these jobs.”

George Appel: He did |.

not tell his companion“. moment.

‘Borrowed’ -'That »Car

throughout the city but as.the hours passed with
no results, McDermott knew . that, ‘the lead was
hopeless. -

He put in a call for the Motor Vehicle Bureau
and asked for the names and addresses of every-
body who owned a Studebaker car. with a license
in the 6N series.

The answer from the Motor. Vehicle Bureau and
a report on the ballistics test on the murder bullet
arrived almost simultaneously.--And they set Mc-
Dermott’s spine atingle.

The Vehicle Bureau reported that only nine
Studebaker cars in the metropolitan area bore
license plates beginning with 6N!

One of them was registered ‘as 6N 53-12, and
the owner was Carl Daniels. He lived not two

blocks from the restaurant where Lieutenant Kem- .

mer was murdered a few hours before!

The ballistics report added fuel to the fire. Briefly
it was: this:

The gun that fired the shot- into Lieutenant
Kemmer was the same one used in a delicatessen
store holdup three weeks: before, where the bandit,
either frightened or excited, fired a wild shot which
lodged in the counter. ‘

The store was on Fresh Pond Road, four blocks
from the restaurant where Lieutenant Kemmer was
shot down.

“IT knew it!” McDermott said to himself. “That
restaurant was spotted.. There’s somebody around

« He related: his theory to Detecti Bill Carter,
‘who thought ‘it over for a minute, «~~
~“How about the hat from Chicago, ‘Chief?” he
asked, ““Wouldn’t you say that’at least one of
those: monkeys was from out of town?”

-McDermott puffed vigorously - -on» his.

“Yes, that’s a factor,” he said, “but I -have a

“hunch ‘that somebody familiar with the neighbor-

hood is the brains behind this business.:*:,.
“However,” he added, “there’s no use speculating.
Let’s go call on our friend, Mr. Daniels.”
Daniel’s address proved to be a rooming-house.

‘And ‘McDermott and Carter found there a rare

specimen—a cdoperative landlady.

“Carl’s _probably down visiting
his girl,” she told them.

The landlady even knew the
address of the girl’s house, which

£ was a-block away.

McDermott and Carter hurried
there, and to their intense satis-
faction, they saw parked at the

license number 6N_ 53-12.

A woman—obviously: not Daniel’s
. girl—opened the door, and the de-
tectives explained their mission.
‘She said Carl and his friend were
in the kitchen having coffee.
Carter waited outside while Mc-
Dermott went in.-.

identified) himself and said he
would like to ask a few questions.
“Sure, Pal,” said Daniels, wink-
ing at the girl. iat
“Mr. Daniels,” said ‘McDermott
in his best official voice, “at 7:30
this morning, two bandits killed a

from here. They escaped in a car
which we have identified as
yours.”

Daniels wasn’t ‘winking any
more. ‘

“My car?” he asked weakly.
“Your car,” the detective replied grimly.
“Keep quiet, Carl,” the girl broke in, “This dick

“This

‘hasn’t anything on you!”

“Dick?” McDermott thought to himself.
girl.has. been around.”

Bur studiously he ignored her and ‘kept on with
Daniels.

“Where were you at 7:30 this morning?”

“In bed,” said Daniels. “I drive a bus and I
finished up at 3 o’clock.”

“Did you drive home from your garage?”

“Sure,” said Carl. “I do that every: night. But
maybe I better tell you something. I usually park
in front of the dump where I live. This morning,
just as I’m climbing out,.a cop comes along and
tells me I can’t stay there. He says the sergeant’s

had complaints. So I ask him what to do and he:

tells me to park around the corner, which is off

his post. So I do. And that’s all I know. I’m up -

at noon today and the car’s right there.”

“Just where you left it?” asked McDermott.

“TI guess.so,” replied Daniels. “I had a féw beers
last night and I wouldn’t swear to it, but it was
on the same street, anyway.”

“Lock it?” !

“Sure,” ” said Daniels. “I paid a lot of dough for
that car.’

McDermott thought this over for a minute but
his mind wasn’t really - (Continued on Page 36)

‘D1

pipe for a:

curb a brown Studebaker sedan,

This was late in the afternoon. -

In the kitchen, the detective a‘

policeman in a restaurant not far


_ .
a AleheG dik the Cink wilt tel

ome joint,” she said. “I disre-
~ member.”

. “I gotta get that gun,” I said. “If the
cops find it they’ll trace it to me and
send me back to the pen.” .

on the car. He was thinking about the
girl, and the crack she had made.
That kind of talk shouldn’t come

from.a girl who was running around -

with a respectable bus driver.
So he excused himself for a moment
and called in Carter. ;
“Take this girl to the station,” or-
dered the Detective Chief. “I’ve got
“an idea she may know something.”

Bees he explained the situation to:

the girl, who shrugged her shoulders . -

flipped her skirts and said she didn’t

_ care if a couple of cops wanted to start
pounding a beat in Staten Island.

When Carter left with his prisoner,

\ McDermott and Daniels drove in the

‘brown Studebaker to the rooming-

house. Then the bus driver showed

where he had parked the machine

early that morning. . é
- “Let’s see the. key,” said McDermott.

He tried it in the ignition lock,
then on the door.

“It doesn’t lock the door,” he said.
_ “Well,” answered Daniels, “no, it
doesn’t. There’s another key for that
and I lost it. But it doesn’t make any
difference. _.Nobody could start the car
without the ignition key.” ;

“Couldn’t they?” asked the detective
softly. “It just so happens that I be-
lieve you were asleep when my old
friend, Eddie Kemmer, was killed this
morning. But don’t tell me your car
was locked until we have a look at
the motor.” .

They lifted the hood. The trained
eye could see enough there for a story.

The entire engine was covered with
grease and dirt which had been marred
by marks and scratches indicating that
a “jumper” had been used to by-pass
the ignition switch. This was an old
ruse of car thieves, who delighted in
picking on cars where the doors were
not locked. ~

“Your car’s been places, Carl,” said
McDermott. “Want to tell me who did
at?"

Daniels stared at the jumper marks
and shook his head.

“T don't know,” he said dully. “I’d
tell you if I did.”

McDermott walked around the ma-
chine and noted that a fender was
crumpled.

“You do that?” he asked.

Daniels stared at it.

“Somebody must have clipped me
while I was parked,” he answered.

“No,” said the detective. scraping
some flecks of blue paint out of the
dent with his fingernail. “This paint

36

is off a car driven by a Mr. Thomas.
_ Jeffreys, who had the misfortune to

“Ui wp vi thul ine Vailas police
had a copy of Sheriff Jackson’s wanted
poster. So they had no idea of letting
Ben Adams go. ~

“But what,” said Reinmiller, “are
we going to do with the guy? He’d
never break down and confess, and he

be in the path of a couple of murderers
as they drove away in this car.”

Still Daniels said nothing.

“All right, Son.” McDermott smiled.
“Go home and get-some sleep. And
don’t skip!” — Pe a

.“Gosh, I won’t,” said Carl. - ;

McDermott hurried to the police sta-

' tion, where he found Carter and the

girl in the squad room.
“She’s mum,” Carter reported.
“All right,” said the Lieutenant. “Let
her cool a while.”

A dozen miscellaneous reports were
on his desk.

Among them was a long telegram
from Chicago. The police there re-

-gretted to report that the Cafeteria Hat

Shop kept no-record of individual
sales. But one small fact was brought
to light.. The hat worn by one of
Lieutenant _Kemmer’s -killers was
bought in Chicago within the past six
months, because the store had not
stocked that particular brand before.

McDermott filed the telegram. He
hadn’t expected much in the way of
results and he wasn’t disappointed.

Another report from the police
laboratory also was on his desk. It
dealt with the wisp of cloth that
snagged off on the cracked partition
as Kemmer and the killer battled it
out.

McDermott read it over and now he
knew an additional fact about the
murder. The man who shot Kemmer
wore a dark blue chinchilla overcoat—
and an expensive one.

HE Lieutenant sat back to think

over his case. Just what did he have?
He listed each known fact mentally:

1. The gun that killed Kemmer had
been used in at least one other holdup
in the Glendale section.

2. One of the slayers was probably
an electrician.

3.-The second either was a book-
maker, worked for a bookie or played
the horses heavily.

4. The slayers escaped in a car
which was owned by a man who lived
a short distance from the scene.

5. One of the gunmen wore an ex-
pensive blue chinchilla coat and had
been in Chicago recently.

McDermott thought: some more
about the car angle.

“Of all the machines parked around
here.” he said to himself, “they picked
on this one and they returned it to the
place where it was parked.”

had against him and he adm 2d
killed Arthur Bowie.
“Might as well tell you,” id.

“Tll probably go to the chair for it
anyway. We held the old guy up orice
before and I figured he was an easy
touch so we went back there that night.

d’? (Continued

Sing of

He wrinkled. his forehead and

' thought some more out loud.

“It looks like somebody was trying

’ to frame Daniels. The killers borrowed

that car because they hoped we’d pin
the job on the owner. Find out-who

_ hated him and we'll crack the case.”

He thought of Daniels’ girl, of her
remark about “this dick” and decided

- she would bear questioning.’ After

a quick cup of coffee, he had her
brought in and made comfortable in a

chair where he could see her every .

expression but she couldn’t see his.
Her name, she said, was Thelma
Phillips, and would he please make it
snappy because she had a date? ;
She was a tall, hefty blonde, ob-

, viously intelligent but lacking much in
- the way of formal education.

McDermott, an old hand at this sort
of thing, softened her up with a series
of innocuous questions about herself,
her family, her church and all the rest:

Thelma began to relax in her chair
and get chatty.

McDermott rambled on and on.

“TI know you want to get out of

here,” he said, “but I’ve been working
so hard on this murder that it’s nice
just to sit down and talk to a girl like
you. - :
“You know,” he said confidentially,
“we cops.are human. I had a good
tip on a horse yesterday and I didn’t
play him. It was Sweetbud, and he
-paid off at forty to one.”

The girl laughed.

“Well, you’re a sucker,” she said.
“I had that horse, too, but I’m no
piker. I had ten bucks riding on his
nose and I made enough to do my
Christmas shopping with a little over.”

“Go on!” said McDermott, simulat-
ing surprise. “You don’t really bet the
ponies, do you?”

“Not very often,” Thelma answered.
“The boy friend says to play ’em only
when you got a sure thing, and I
always take his advice.”

“Yes,” said McDermott meditatively.
“Carl seems like a sensible sort of a
fellow.”

“Oh, him!” replied Thelma with a
casual wave of the hand. “He’s a dope.
I don’t mean him. I mean the boy
friend, the guy I’m going to marry.”

“Ah, romance!” chuckled the detec-
tive. “Who is this fortunate young
man?”

“Eddie Byrne,” she answered proud-
ly. ‘‘He’s the nuts, if you don’t mind
my saying so. We were out shopping

for a ring today.

“We didn’t get it.’ she went on.

trom Page 8)

while, 1 hoped.

The names Mavis Sparks and Adele.

Chandler are fictitious in this story to
protect the identities of women who
have been given a chance to lead a

"new, decent life.

“Eddie said he’d have to wait another
day or two,-but he promised it by.
Christmas.”

- McDermott’s eyes glittered, but the
girl couldn’t see that.

. “Se Eddie’s broke,” he said with a
grin. “Aren’t we all? Don’t tell me
that he booked your bet on Sweetbud
and now he can’t pay off!”

“Him!” The girl laughed. “Not Eddie.

He’s got his own racket. He’s an elec- ' ~

trician. But there’s a fellow who goes

with my aunt and he takes bets. That’s

where Eddie bets.”
- “Well, well.” McDermott chuckled.
“Maybe I’d better see Eddie so I can
put some money down on a winner.
He sounds lucky.” =

“I hope so,” said Thelma. “We're

‘going to be married, and—well, I hope-

he’s lucky.”

She rose and with a nod, McDermott

told her she could go. He followed her
to the door of the squad room and
with a slight motion of his head in-
dicated that Carter should follow her.

$7 went back to her rooming-house,
and about 9 o’clock that night,
a young fellow came up the front
steps, rang the bell and went inside.

A few minutes later he came out
with the girl and Carter stepped out
of the shadows.

“Come along, Eddie,” he said, flash-
ing his shield, which glittered in the
light of the street lamp. “I want to
have a talk with you at Headquarters.”

“Why, you dirty copper!” the girl
screamed. .“What do you want with
Eddie? What’s he done?”

“Plenty, Sister, plenty!” responded
Carter. His voice was a little sad.

Eddie Byrne was 24. He never had
been arrested before. When they put
him in the line-up with eleven other
men, Heise and Schneider stepped for-
ward unerringly and picked him out
as one of the restaurant bandits. He
was -grilled for hours and finally he
gave in and grumbled, “If on’y Thelma
hadn’t talked I wouldn’t be in this
jam.”

He was clay in McDermott’s skillful
hands.

Piece by piece the detective drew
out the story.

Byrne and Thelma had been going
together since early Summer. A few
weeks before, the girl said they were
to have a double date. They were
going out with her aunt. Mrs. Theresa
Kennard. who lived in Brooklyn, just
over the line from Glendale.

Mrs. Kennard introduced her boy

ID 1

bal £

“I’ve got a gun,” he said. “You S}
me a place and I’ll knock it off. \
got to get dough.”

From his acquaintanceship with

Y

' Thelma Phillips, Byrne knew that the

neighborhood delicatessen was a busy
shop and took in a lot of money jn 2
night. He watched the place and told
Miller the best time to stick it up.”
Everything went fine, except thai
the proprietor objected «to handing

~/ over the money, and in the exci t
. a shot was fired. me a

Buried ir

“That could be an act, Dixon,” Pit-
cock replied. “If it’s not, it’s the onl
thing I can see in your favor.” *H:

_ paused, then said, “Let’s you and m:

do some real talking, Dixon—talkin<
that makes sense.” :
At that moment several detective:

“came in from searching the church

They had evidence and lots of it
Bloodstained trousers in the churc!
pantry, pushed back under a heav.
piece of furniture. A bloodstained rag
the stains spaced in such a manne:
as to give the appearance of having
been wiped on the rag from a blood,
hand. A hat, with blood on the brim
A pair of gloves with blood on thc
inside. Some crumpled and blood,
paper. :

Foe of these items were found ir
various parts of the church anc
had been hidden with considerablc
care. “Also,” Detective Lieutenant O
N. Martin said, “I noticed some spots
on the stairs that might be blood.”

Major Pitcock took the bloodstainec
trousers and made a quick examina-
tion of them. A tag fastened inside
by two clips bore a laundry or dry-
cleaning mark. “They ought to be
easily traced,” he said, “but I don’:
think it will be necessary.”

“Meaning what?” Rotenberry asked

Pitcock shrugged. “This much stufi
hidden throughout that church coulc
be a plant,” he said, “but Dixon surel,
would have heard the man prowling
around doing the planting. Let’s se:
what he has to say now.”

Dixon didn’t say much. At sight o:
the hat and trousers he turned a dirty
gray. “So they’re yours?” Pitcoci:
questioned.

Frank Dixon nodded. “No use lying
about that,” he said. “They're mine
But, Major, I didn’t kill that girl.”

“And you didn’t hear a thing?”

- “I sure as the world didn’t, Major.”

To a detective Rotenberry said
“Take this man away.” When Dixo
had left the police chief said to Majo
Pitcock, “What do you think now?”

“The evidence certainly is incrimi-
nating,” Pitcock said, “but it also could
be a plant.”

“Tf it’s a plant, Dixon is not telling
the truth,” the chief said. “Either he
wasn’t in the church or he was anc

ID—1

_ _..

om

George, white, elec. NY® (Queens) August 9, 1928.

e

istie record
ey had no
three from
‘oted to his
of his age.
lew Jersey,

‘tivities

aronized

to her former

tside the door
weating fore-
ily in his mind
rent out to the
ding door and

ig, perfect for
He drove di-
neée. He had
yme that eve-
and he turned
highway and
the ocean.
it their future
e was hardly
There was a
After a while
ng’s worrying

fer to explain.
e pleaded.

rou,” he finally
lanned a vaca-
id Aunt Nellie
row afternoon,
id driver; he’s
of accident on
hose cars come
Real. I’m really

Jon’t anticipate
he agreed, ‘“‘but
moody and

svening. They
page 103)

ne ail

By EDGAR HAILE

+ A hat and a scrap of paper trap the
kilier who gambled all on a long-shot

EAVY SNOW clouds hung low in the sky
as Lieutenant Charles J. Kemmer hur-
ried along the wind-swept streets on his

way to report for duty at the Glendale pre-
cinct in Queens, New York City. It was
shortly after seven-thirty on the morning
of December 22nd. He braced himself as he
approached the triangular corner of Old
Fresh Pond Road, Halleck Avenue and Kos-
suth Place, always a breezy spot. An old-
fashioned restaurant, a favorite with many
officers from the station house several
blocks away, stood on the narrow corner.

Lieutenant Kemmer lowered his head into his
overcoat collar as protection against the icy blasts
as he started to cross the corner. Suddenly he
halted and stared up Kossuth Place. An automobile
with its motor racing stood about 100 feet up the
street. No one was in the machine, which. was
parked in front of a vacant lot. The officer glanced
at the restaurant. The window and door blinds
were drawn. He knew the café usually opened
for business at seven o’clock. Moving swiftly, he
tried the door. It was locked. He heard the faint
rumble of voices inside.

With another glance at the running automobile
he rattled the door. “This is the police,” he sud-
denly called out. “Is there anything wrong?
Open up.”

No one answered his call. ‘Open up or I'll
break the door open,” he threatened. :

This time someone inside shouted, “I’m coming.”
After a short wait the door opened slowly and
Kemmer entered the darkened restaurant.

At about the same time, Lieutenant Andrew
McGrattan, desk officer at the Glendale station
house, suppressed a yawn and glanced at the clock.
Kemmer was due any moment to relieve him. He
cleared away his personal belongings. The front
door opened and Detective Lieutenant Michael
F. McDermott, commander of the Glendgle Squad,
stamped his way into the room, slapping his arms
to bring back the circulation. The desk telephone
rang and McGrattan picked it up. He looked at
McDermott. ‘Charlie Kemmer has just been shot,”
he announced.

Within five minutes, Lieutenant McDermott was
at the restaurant with Detectives William H. Carter
and Charles Weiler. Kemmer was sitting in a

ILLUSTRATION BY LOUIS BURNETT


264 New York History STEPHEN ARNOLD 265
IV — THe HaAncyarp . | =-well, for on this piece of land stands my house, and where
' the gallows waited, grow my grubby apple trees.

Twentieth Century readers are always amazed at the ~~ Phinney, to whom we are indebted for a superb example
crowds that gathered to see a hanging in the days of public = of early journalism in his coverage of the event, commented
executions. The reasons are not hard to discover in the ser. ~ on the fact that all classes of society were there. The day must
mons of the time; here were the wages of sin, here was a les- ~ have been hot.

son in morality, here was Death which constantly shadowed
men’s everyday thoughts. What more could one ask than
that hundreds of others would be present in a countryside of

pangs

__ The display of about six hundred umbrellas of various
eS colors, the undulating appearance of silks and muslins
=~ of different hues, the vibration of thousands of fans in

| widely spaced, isolated farms, along with bands and militia i, playful fancy, the elevated background of the landscape
, and a few sermons, and a view of the criminal, and the awe- x interspersed with carriages of various constructions and
i some dramatic moment when the body lurched and a soul filled with people, the roofs of the buildings which com-
a went to eternity? So it was that on the morning of July 19, mancded a view covered with spectators, the windows
aa 1805, by 7 o'clock in the morning Cooperstown’s wide Second Ess crowded with faces, every surrounding point of bia es
+ Street (now Main) was filled with people. By one o'clock, it a metas gene cs oat ene ce oe the
ea was later estimnated, around 12,000 people were in the village; bs oe Sandie oe Nivea ee hake
aa! that is a couple of thousand more than attend the annual So a = : OP ° |
ab baseball game in Cooperstown between the American and | Pogaa ts it any wonder people went to hangings, when one got all |
ey National Leagues. O£ course, what a public hanging would this and a dramatic mora] lesson, too?
at draw today we haven't had any way of finding out in recent i _ The parade marched down to the gallows; the principal
4 yeats. | / actors mounted. the platform. There was a prayer by the
A About noon the prisoner was taken from the jail (at what : Reverend Mr, Williams of Springfield Center, a sermon by
ad is now the southeast corner of Main and Pioneer Streets, the Reverend Isaac Lewis of Cooperstown, # preys Of tor
ef where Augur’s Book Store stands) and placed in an open : cia. oteved by vce Ebenezer Vauning of W infield. —
ee Ee wagon with his coffin. Sheriff Solomon Martin, riding a - wie was a ees net, ee greatly affected by all
3 4 horse, led the procession, followed by the clergy and leading : 1s ane his an ees was so obvious cat PBAnY. - those
pte | gentlemen of the County; then came Arnold in his wagon, _ to the 3a OWS ee Heeyed to tears. After the SETVICE
ne: after him the “funeral music,” two militia companies, one of Was over, he sat down for a spell on the cofhin to collect him-
: Light Infantry and one of Artillery. They marched east on self for the erecal ahead. He was told that it he wished he
J Second Street (Main), past the gates of William Cooper's could address the multitude, or such part of it as could hear
Otsego Hall, past the new stone house he had built as a wed- his hae olen was that he used them to learn from his ratal
ding present the year before for his daughter Ann, across the Ce e guard their passions, lor it was this failure which
‘ bridge over the beginnings of the Susquehanna River, just a brought him to his sorry plight, but, notwithstanding,
4 where it leaves Otsego Lake on its way to the sea. i oe sels mended na ee 4 qe Concluding, he
“4 At this point the River is quite narrow, the west bank Rie appre: eC me that it you will not take warning from
i _ i . at: oe ; affecting scene you would not be warned though one
H rising very steeply, while the east side rises slowly in a grea should rise from the dead.” 2
i amphitheatre. As they reached the bridge Amold’s eve iust : Let Phinnes aa ‘ ‘ a ; : :
i have surveyed that sea of humanity which covered the pre met eye WHS wast ere, Cescribe what happened nex
a cipitous west bank and all of the eastern amphitheatre. and font “cjusted co ewe ne eiceer ‘Or
| he may well have looked down at the gallows built oD. # mained © appapently absorbed 2 solemn Tesditation,
uf little piece of flat land by the river's brink. I know the place ; ‘

which was entirely abstracted from terrestrial subjects;

sinks Bib
RARE MR Ete


sot pelea ee ae ee

New York History

conversation, and a careful attention of his eyes, those
faithful interpreters of the heart, I have no reason to
conclude that the policy of the bequest ever had entered
his heart, but that it was dictated solely from the moni-
tions of a tender conscience: And in my life I never con-
versed with a person apparently so scrupulously deter-
mined to neither do nor omit anything which a good
conscience would disapprove, or require, than the un-

happy Armold during the whole of his tedious imprison-

ment. A petition from him will be presented to the
legislature, which I conceive will relieve them from a
constitutional embarassment in case they should not
grant him a pardon.

Arnold's petition follows:

To The Hon. The Legislature of N. Y. In Senate &
Assembly Convened.

The humble petition of Stephen Arnold humbly

STEPHEN ARNOLD : 269

One always seeks for the particular, for the single view of
someone else’s contemporary history. Such a view of Stephen
Arnold is to be found in The Memoirs of the Life of Na-
thaniel Stacy, a Universalist clergyman who published the
story of his life in 1850. Mr. Stacy had married about 1805
a young woman of another sect and he patiently tried to help
her get the Universalist range. He recounts in his Memoirs
the murder, the trial, the abortive execution, and a Visit to
Cooperstown in 1806: “My companion [his wife] had par-
taken of the excitement very feelingly. She was a great lover
of children, and the least cruelty practiced upon them excited
her indignation even to revenge. She had read the heart-rend-
ing story of the poor child’s suffering till her heart bled with
pity, and burned with indignation against her savage and
cruel murderer; and nothing could satisfy her but his pro-
tracted death, wherein he should feel as much pain, in pro-
portion to his strength to bear it, as the poor innocent child

4 sheweth: That your humble petitioner is deeply Sensis did. Hanging was too good for him,—he ought to be whipped
Ky ble of the heinous cea pa pane pee to death; and she could see it done—she would exult in seeing
4 the perpetrating of which he is under the awful sentence a, tt... 7
‘ of death that he solemnly declares that he never con- a me — acca AC rane }
a templated, designed, or intended, the death of the child, A our journey, we passe ole 1 hae wh, : 1ere
i who, as it appeared, died in consequence of his bar- Arnold was confined in jail, awaiting the action of the legis-
ra barous severity: that his affections for the child had in- lature on his case. [ had to make some stay in the vicinity
rit creased from the time of her first residing with him, and fulfil an appointment left on my way down; and I pro-
. (ei until the fatal period, when, in a fit of extreme and posed to her to go to the jail, and see this monster in human
} iF violent passion, he inflicted’ an inhuman and unjust , shape. She was horror-struck at the idea of beholding such a
meee chastisement, for a childish obstinacy. . i monster; but finally concluded to eo in. It was a zood time
Sty Your humble petitioner doth therefore pray that your ' to make the impression I desired. He had just received a
cf humble body would graciously grant him a pardon in paper from Albany, containing the proceedings on. his case,
which case his whole life shall be devoted to the en- and the present appearance was hopeless: the probability was
deavor of eae such an act of grace ae PY that the legislature would not commute his punishment, but
a contrite heart and a vigilant caution in a is con- | : ; : te ee E
: diuctiginds in case’ he Should. bs demoed" tonigiailey ta theo a 7 te sour — ms ad thetic a
: obtain a pardon, that his punishment may be gracious!y ie me “ ae P i 4 a : Wages P a, =
iH mitigated by being confined to the State prison, at hard i vhs ated cae en ae dischaei + en — = ae We; CHsere Fe
: labor. for sucha term, ‘as your honorable body shail i Jail, mingled with the rattling of his chains as he writhed

adjudge, to which your petitioner will cheerfully &
gratefully submit.

about; were enough to appal the boldest spirit, and draw
sympathy trom a heart of stone!

“His wite was by his side; and a Methodist preacher, who

A year later, in the Spring of 1807, the legislature granted
the less generous part of his petition and commuted his sen-
tence to life imprisonment in the state penitentiary, pre-
sumably Newgate Prison in New York City.

had been praying with him, was just holding him by the
hand to take his leave. I entered his cell and spoke to him,
and talked with him a few minutes about his present pros-

WTARDAL 46

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262 New York History

Arnold’s defense, why he didn’t ask for a change of venue
which articles in The Otsego Herald would have justified.
Gne also wonders if Gold had had time to prepare his case
carefully. |

Between June 4 and July 19, certainly Mr. Phinney and
probably the public at large grew less and less severe in their
attitude toward the prisoner. The poor fellow had to under-
20 a steady flow of clergymen of various denominations and

- other good citizens who came to the miserable cell in the log

jail, where he was chained to the floor, to “soothe and forti-
fy” his perturbed mind. Certainly he remained a sure topic of
conversation—they said he had starved himself to death, that
he had petitioned for and received a reprieve, that he had
escaped, that knives had been concealed in his bread—and
these were all equally untrue. Rather he seemed to renounce
all hope. Mr. Phinney in the Herald (June 27) carried a
paragraph I find most interesting for its reflection of the
impact of the murder and the trial on the community, but
especially for its telling vignette of Arnold himself. °

... The situation to every reflecting mind is awful and
distressing but unhappily for him his manner of convers-
ing is not calculated to excite so much interest and com-
miseration as might be expected. This is probably to be
imputed to the manner of his education which has not
afforded him the means of acquiring a pleasant and at-
tractive habit, a gentle demeanor or a persuasive ele-
gance.... The melancholy subject has penetrated every
heart and mind, some with the sentiments of justice
blended with mercy, others with ideas of rigid justice
unconnected with sympathy or commiseration. We feel
for him, we pity him and we pray for him.

Not all of Phinney’s readers shared his Christian charity

as his next issue made clear. Also made clear is the roiling of

public opinion and further evidence of one of my favorite
observations about the past, namely that the percentage ol
damn fools was just as great or greater in 1805 as it is today.
“It is to be regretted,” observes Mr. Phinney in the July 4th
issue, “that many silly, idle, uncharitable and impertiment
remarks are made to Arnold, as “You must have been oiilty
of some great crime which you concealed from the public
and now to punish you Providence has permitted you to

yea A I ye

STEPHEN ARNOLD 263

~ perpetrate the crime for which you must suffer.” But Phin-

ney goes still further in his softening toward Arnold, ““We
believe it to be true that Arnold has always sustained the
character of an honest and industrious citizen and his general
conduct has been well approved by the people of the neigh-

- borhood and that of a majority of his neighbors.”

That the people of Burlington were also having some

= second thoughts on Stephen Arnold is evident from the fact

that during the week of July 7th they were circulating a pe-

‘tition for a stay of execution to be sent to Governor Morgan

Lewis. This was signed by nearly 200 citizens, including
leaders of the community. . .

At IT oO clock, Saturday morning, July 13th Jacob Ford
started tor Albany, seventy-odd miles away, but the date was
so close to the execution and the chances of the Governor

being out of Albany so great that “scarcely a gleam of hope”

remained that the effort would be successful. He arrived
there Sunday evening, only to discover that the Governor
was at his country seat near Staatsbure, seventy miles down
the Hudson. Puzzled, he went to see Chief Justice. James
Kent, who had presided at the trial, showed him the petitions
and asked what he should do next. The Chief Justice wrote
a letter to the Governor and told Ford to proceed immedi-
ately, adding that he might well! be disappointed, but at any
rate Arngld’s friends would be pleased with his exertions.

_ So, early Monday morning, with the execution just four days

away, he headed south to Staatsburg, where he learned that
his Excellency was already on his way to Albany. Ford turn-
ed around and followed him north, but the chance ot vettine
his signature in Albany and returning to Cooperstown before
the hanging had taken place must have seemed almost im-
possible. Then he got his first break; sometime Wednesday
he learned that instead of going straight to the Capital, the
Governor had stopped to visit the Hon. Robert R. Livine-
ston, Esq:, at his estate, Clermont, twenty miles north Be
fin atedes Ther Governor wat dor ceahe eer be

( ; was € seat of government
and it was therefore impossible to issue a formal reprieve.
The best he could do was write a letter to the Sheriff con-

_ laining a “respite of execution” until: further orders. The

hanging now was less than 48 hours away and Cooperstown

S lay a far piece across the Hudson and the Catskills.

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the thousands of spectators were waiting in silent and
gloomy suspense for the fatal catastrophe, when the
sheriff, after a few concise and pertinent remarks to the
the prisoner, produced a letter from his Excellency
Governor Morgan Lewis containing directions for “A
Respite Of The Execution” until further orders—the
prisoner swooned, the countenances of the vast con-
course assumed a different expression and the whole
scene seemed changed.?

Jacob Ford had made it from Clermont with the Gover.
nor’s reprieve after all; indeed, he had arrived by nine o’clock
that morning. His arrival put Sheriff Martin in a tight spot:
the town was already full of people, hungry for pageantry,
excitement, a moment of history. Should he totally disap-
point them or, good politician that he was, do the best he
could and yo as far as the situation permitted? He was criti-
cized in his own time and he has been laughed at in ours,
but all things considered he couldn’t have done less and he

“wasn't permitted to do more. I’ll stand with Sheriff Martin.

The parade reformed and back they marched to the jail.
It was all very orderly and, by and large. the people took
their disappointment with good grace, but as they approach-
ed the jail one could hear angry muttering against the Gov-
ernor for interfering and against the Sheriff for misleading
them. It was Arnold who, at this juncture, rose to the oc-
casion. After asking the Sheriff for permission to speak, he

stood in the wagon and warned the crowd to govern their
‘passions: it was anger, he said, that had brought him to the

sorry pass in which he found himself. His pontifications cou-
cluded, he re-entered the jail, the crowd melted away and by
nightfall all was peacetul in the little county seat.

V — AFTERWORD

There must have been many a day in the months to come
when Stephen Arnold regretted the benevolence of Governor
Lewis in staying his sentence. The Otsego County jail was
a “dark and rotten dungeon,” and while it may have done
no harm to the occasional drunk or horse thief who passed
a few nights there, it was certainly durance vile for one who
had to spend two years there. During that period there was
considerable extravagant talk about building a new jail, but

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qemrecnemennaltind

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STEPHEN ARNOLD 267

we're a cautious folk in Otsego County and we can make a
log jail go a long way, even if it isn’t as fancy (or expensive)
as the jails in some other counties we could name. .

As a connoisseur of murder, I find many aspects of the
Arnold case rewarding, but certainly one of the most in-
teresting is the ebb and flow of community sympathy: the
popular anger and intensity of feeling at the time he ran
away, the exultation in his capture, then the erosion of that
anger until men shed tears before he was to be hung, then
the irritation at his reprieve, the gradual reassertion of sym-
pathy that pressured the legislature to change his sentence
to life imprisonment. Undoubtedly the genuine remorse of
this cold, inarticulate introvert was largely responsible for
this. | .

On February 10, 1806 Elihu Phinney wrote Governor
Lewis a letter to accompany Arnold’s petition to the legisla-
ture.

May It Please Your Excellency:

On Friday last the unfortunate Arnold sent a request
that 1 would visit him with which I immediately com-
plied. I had not seen him for several months. I found
him in the dungeon confined to the floor by a very heavy
log chain; and as soon as mny eves had become assimilat-
ed to the “darkness visible,” a visage, sunken by grief,
remorse, and despair presented. He wished me to draft

a new will for him, as that which he executed the last

day of May was rendered inapplicable by the subsequent

sale of some land: and as he had bequeathed 100 acres

to his Sister & two brothers, who although they were

apprised of his awful situation had neither of them visit-
ed him. He proposed to bequeath the whole & the little

which remained of his hard Earnings to his wife, with a

clause which required her. to pay to the Advertising

Committee the $200 which they were obliged to pay at

Pittsburgh as a reward for his apprehension, observing

that they had done right. And as he understood that

they could not be indemnified by the State, he conceived

that in justice he ought to make them good, if in his

power. [It may be suggested that the idea had been com-

municated to him through friendly policy; but he

solemnly declared to the contrary: and for myself I do

Solemnly declare that I never before heard or conceived

of such a proceeding: and from the whole tenor of his

MURDER ONE [108

Albert De Meo. He read from a letter Appelgate had given him:
“Mrs. Creighton suggested I better have a bedfellow and sug-
gested the two girls [Ruth and Agnes]. She sent them up to me.”
Agnes was, of course, Appelgate’s own daughter and this particu-
lar testimony apparently was intended to bear out in part some
of the unprintable goings-on that District Attorney Littleton
had hinted at in his opening remarks. This incident appeared
to have taken place during Ada’s stay in the hospital.

John Creighton, who had been held in jail as a material wit-
ness, now reluctantly took the stand for the state. He was a mild
little man, bald and pale, and he spoke in a weak, trembling
voice, He did his best to say nothing that might point to his
wife’s guilt. Under questioning, he admitted that Appelgate had
occasionally been enraged with Ada, and that after one particu-
larly rough altercation in which Appelgate slapped her and
pushed her down in a chair, Ada had said: “If you do that again
I'll say something that will put you in your place.”

Littleton now led John Creighton to the subject of Appelgate’s
attitude toward fifteen-year-old Ruth. Creighton admitted that
at one time Appelgate had made a remark in his presence that
could have been interpreted as a suggestion of improper relations
with Ruth.

Q. What did you say?

A. I was dumfounded. I didn’t know what to say. Afterward
I said: “What did you mean by that, Appy?” He said: “Why,
nothing, John.” I said: “You wouldn’t harm Ruthie, would you?”
and he said: “No, I think as much of Ruthie as I do of Agnes.”
Agnes is his own daughter, you know.

The prosecutor then turned to living conditions in the house.

Q. Now, when you had visitors, where did the girls sleep?

A. In with the Appelgates.

Q. Who suggested that Ruth sleep with the Appelgates?

A. Ada Appelgate did. She said: “Ruth is so small, she can

199 ] Poison and Pedophilia

sleep in our bed on the other side of me, and Agnes, being so
stout, can sleep on the cot at the foot of the bed.”

In cross-examination by Weeks, Appelgate’s counsel, Creigh-
ton unwillingly opened a door that otherwise would have been
closed to the prosecution. But Weeks had his reasons.

“Do you know a man by the name of Raymond Avery?” he
asked.

i Eg

“Ts he alive today?”

“He is not.”

“Who is Mrs. Walter J. Creighton, Sr.?”

“My mother.”

“And is she alive?”

“No, she is not.”

Thus the foundation was laid for introducing the two previous
murder trials of Mary Frances Creighton. Weeks handed the
prosecution a plum it otherwise could not have plucked. But it
might prove extremely advantageous to the defense of Appelgate.
The more Weeks could bring out Mrs. Creighton’s familiarity
with the whole subject of poisoning (as he had now done by
permitting evidence of her two earlier trials to be brought to the
jury’s attention), the better chance he had of throwing the
blame on Mary and exonerating his client. Appelgate was per-
fectly happy to help Mary along the road to conviction, especially
if by so doing he could save his own scrofulous skin.

The prosecution now read to the jury Appelgate’s story of
Ada’s death as he had told it to the police following his arrest.
When questioned about his relations with Mrs. Creighton and
her daughter, he had been the picture of injured innocence.

Q. Did you ever have any relations with Mrs. Creighton?

A. No.

Q. No intimate relations with her?

A. No, the only thing she ever did was once I helped carry


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MURDER ONE [ 1094

At last a doctor who had treated her for obesity sent her to the
Nassau County South Community Hospital, attributing her
disorder to a possible gall bladder attack. In the hospital Ada
improved noticeably and was allowed to return home on the
twenty-fifth of September. Early in the morning of the twenty-
seventh, Ada again became violently ill and delirious. Appelgate
called the doctor at 6:25 a.m. and was advised to send her to the
hospital at Meadowbrook. Appelgate then called the police and
asked that an ambulance and an oxygen tent be rushed over. He
also called a second doctor who lived nearby. The police arrived
and started to work on Ada with a respirator. When the second
doctor, whom Appelgate finally had to fetch himself, reached
the house, Ada had been dead for some time.

The second doctor decided the cause of death was a coronary
occlusion and issued the necessary death certificate. Ada’s re-
mains were taken to a funeral parlor and arrangements for her
burial were made. That could have been, and nearly was, the end
of the story. But, as I said, someone knew more about Mary
Creighton than she suspected. And that someone—the authori-
ties never revealed who—suggested to the office of the district
attorney that Ada Appelgate’s death might bear looking into.
The “look” brought to view an image of evil that rocked the
countryside.

A preliminary autopsy indicated that Ada had died not of
heart disease but of arsenic poisoning. Ada had probably been
murdered.

While the preliminary autopsy was in progress, District Attor-
ney Littleton had been questioning Everett Appelgate and the
two Creightons. When he was notified that poison was the cause
of death, he hammered away at them through the night. Each
denied any knowledge of how Ada might have been poisoned.
Appelgate swore there was no antagonism between him and his
wife. He had loved her, all 220 pounds of her, he declared. And

195 ] Poison and Pedophilia

the Creightons, though obviously distressed since their ordeals
of twelve years past were now out in the open, protested their
innocence. In the early morning Littleton let them go.

. The complete report—showing massive doses of arsenic in
Ada’s organs—reached the district attorney later in the day, but
Littleton waited a week before again summoning Appelgate and
the Creightons for further questioning. This time, in a most
unorthodox procedure, he was assisted by one of New York’s
most distinguished psychiatrists, Dr. Richard H. Hoffmann.
While Littleton talked to Appelgate and Creighton, Dr.
Hoffmann tried to draw out Mary Frances. Ironically, after many
hours of questioning, he did succeed, he reported, in getting a
confession from the lady—but not to the murder of Ada
Appelgate! What she admitted to Dr. Hoffmann was that she
had, indeed, poisoned her brother twelve years ago!

Later, in her home, Dr. Hoffmann met the Creighton daugh-
ter, Ruth. According to him, he asked the fifteen-year-old girl if
she was a virgin. When he had assured her that he was a doctor
and not a detective, she replied that no, she was not a virgin.
When her mother objected, Ruth said, according to the doctor:
“Why, Mother, you knew. You’ve been watching my periods for
four months.” She then named “Uncle Ev” Appelgate as her
lover.

Taxed with Ruth’s statement, Appelgate admitted its truth
but fervently denied any connection with that and his wife’s
death. He had no objection to taking a rap for statutory rape,
since Ruth was a minor, but murder was something else again.
He was hustled off to jail and held on the rape charge, while
Littleton and his staff continued their investigation.

On the following day Mary Creighton, already under arrest,
after long hours of questioning, dictated the first of three con-
flicting confessions concerning the murder of Ada Appelgate. In
this one she implicated Everett Appelgate; in a second confession


MURDER ONE [ 196

she exonerated him; and in a third, which she wrote herself, she
put all of the blame on him.

Although the first confession was quickly shown to be a con-
siderable mixture of falsehood and truth, Littleton’s office pre-
sented sufficient evidence to a grand jury to warrant the indict-
ment of Mary Frances Creighton and Everett Appelgate for
murder in the first degree.

The trial began on January 13, 1936. The court-appointed
attorney for Appelgate, Charles O. Weeks, had attempted to get
a severance for his client, but District Attorney Martin W.
Littleton argued successfully against it. He knew that Appelgate
had a fair chance of evading a murder conviction if he were tried
by himself. It took only a moment for Judge Johnson to deny
Weeks’s motion.

Because two defendants were involved, impaneling a jury took
longer than usual. But at the end of three exhausting days the
second phase of the trial was ready to get under way.

Prosecutor Littleton—young, handsome, a storybook version
of what a district attorney should be—spent two hours telling the
jury, the court and a packed courtroom that the state would
prove that Mary Frances Creighton and Everett Appelgate had
lived in flagrant immorality in that little house in Baldwin, cul-
minating their festering affair—an affair that included Mary’s
daughter Ruth—in the murder of Ada Appelgate.

Elvin Edwards, Mrs. Creighton’s counsel, opened for the de-
fense and made no bones about the breach that now existed
between his client and her lover.

“I am not going to accuse anyone in this case,” he said, “but
I will say that a normal, happy life existed in the home of the
Creightons until Appelgate came into it. Mrs. Creighton did not
do what she is accused of doing. There was no enmity between
her and Mrs. Appelgate. When she made statements to police

197 ] Poison and Pedophilia

she did not realize what she was saying. I'll show you her state-
ments were not true. You'll have to pin the motive for any
murder on someone other than Mrs. Creighton. Actually, all the
police have is that Ada Appelgate died under circtimstances
which were not fully explained. But there is no proof that Mrs.
Creighton poisoned her or wanted to poison her. You will believe
that when you hear her own story.”

The opening remarks of Charles Weeks, Appelgate’s counsel,
were wary and tentative. He made only one point clear: Appel-
gate was being tried for a murder someone else had committed,
and that whatever his sexual conduct with Mary Creighton and
her daughter had been, it had nothing to do with the murder.

Among the early witnesses called by the state was Dr. Otto
Goetiler, the famous New York toxicologist who had analyzed
the dead woman’s organs. (Ironically, Dr. Goettler had appeared
as an expert for the defense in Mary Creighton’s first trial twelve
years before.) He testified to finding large quantities of arsenic,
similar to the arsenic he also found in samples of Rough-on-Rats
compound supplied by the state. He told, too, that various medi-
cines, foods, etc., taken from the Creighton house showed no
traces of arsenic. The purpose of this testimony was to rebut
any claim by the defense that Ada might have accidentally poi-
soned herself.

Mr. Littleton then put on a civil engineer, who displayed plans
he had drawn of the disposition of the rooms in the Creighton
home. On cross-examination, Appelgate’s counsel brought out
that the sink in the kitchen was obscured by a partition. The
same partition also obstructed the view from the icebox to the
kitchen table. The implication was plain: Appelgate could claim
that if Mrs. Creighton had put arsenic in that last and fatal
eggnog, the partition would have prevented him from seeing her
do it.

Another witness for the state was Assistant District Attorney


MURDER ONE [ 200

her to her bed when she was sick and just had her nightgown on.
Then twice I helped her fasten her back garters,

Q. That was the only sign of intimacy between you?

A. Yes, and it was absolutely disinterested.

Q. What about the daughter, Ruth Creighton? Were you
ever intimate with her?

A. Well, only her mother’s arrangement. I have slept in the
same bed with her, that is all.

Q. When did you sleep together?

A. When we had a lot of company. She slept with me and my
wife and Agnes.

Q. Was there any dispute between your wife and Mrs.
Creighton?

A. Yes. Ada was making remarks about Ruth running around
with boys. There was some unpleasantness between Ada and
Mrs. Creighton. It was all settled. There was no animosity. We
continued to live together in an amicable way.

Q. From the time Ada took sick, I assume Mrs. Creighton
took care of all the cooking?

A. Yes, I think so. Ada may have helped her the first couple
of days, then she became too sick.

Littleton and his staff were now ready to wheel up the heavy
artillery—Mary Creighton’s confessions. Over the violent ob-
jections of the defense attorneys, all three were read to the jury.

Her first statement, which she signed after questioning by
Inspector Harold R, King at 3:30 a.m. on October 8, named
Appelgate as the instigator of the crime. It was he, she said, who
gave her the lethal white powder to mix in an eggnog for his
wife, threatening to expose her past if she didn’t obey him.

“Mr. Appelgate blamed his wife for his defeat as county com-
mander of the Legion,” Mrs. Creighton had said. “He told me

201 ] Poison and Pedophilia

he was going to get rid of her. During this time he was having
intimate relations with my daughter, Ruth. She was fifteen years
old at the time. Mr. Appelgate would kiss her Passionately in
my Presence, and although it revolted me, I did not dare to in-
terfere.

“On Wednesday, September 25, when she came home from
the hospital at about 5:30 P.M., when I was Preparing supper,
Mr. Appelgate came into the kitchen of our home and said: ‘Are
you preparing supper?’ Ada at this time was in bed. I said: ‘Yes.’
He gave me a white powder and said: ‘This is arsenic. Put it in
the milk and give it to Ada’ I was in a panic and said: “Why?’
He said: ‘Do as you are told. Keep your mouth shut. Not a
word to John. I have got to go through with this,’

“He told me he had got the arsenic at O’Toole’s Pharmacy
that afternoon. I put the powder in the milk and put it on a tray
with Ada’s supper and served it to her,

“On September 26,” she went on, “I saw Mr. Appelgate pre-
pare an eggnog in the kitchen and put a similar white powder into
it, and he said to me: ‘This will make her sleep.’ He took the
powder from a lower vest pocket of a brown-checked vest he was
Wearing at the time. He took the eggnog into Ada’s room and
I saw him feed it to her. He was holding one of his hands to her
back and the glass to her mouth. She drank about three quarters
of the contents. The remainder was thrown out.

“After her death and after the autopsy and after being ques-
tioned at the district attomey’s office the first time on Saturday
and Sunday, September 28 and 29, Appelgate said to me: ‘It was
nothing but a farce.’ He said it was nothing to worry about, that
they had kept us there because they were stalling for time to get
the report back, and as soon as they got the report they would
let us out to go home, as there was nothing in the report. That
was all that was said about it then. He said to me later that no


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Mary, far from resenting Everett’s
desire for her daughter, talked to him
about how nice it would be if he could

marry the girl. The very thought of

such good fortune set Everett afire
with passion, and made him amenable
‘to-any good ideas Mary Creighton had
to offer.

First, Mrs. Creighton suggested, he
should get an insurance policy on
Ada’s life. This, he promptly did.
Then, with Everett’s eager support
and encouragement, she began to
‘poison Ada by inches. It took ‘some
timé to accomplish this feat, because
Mary wanted to make it look. good,

| and, as she told the impatient Everett:

““T know what I’m doing. There’s an
art to this. Don’t forget—I’ve done it
before.”

So she fed poor Ada all sorts of de-
lightful concoctions, all spiced with a
little bit of arsenic. And the greedy
Ada got so sick, she died. The doctor
was unhappy, but he figured it to be
a natural death. After all, greedy Ada
had been. sick before.

- But one neighbor of the Creightons’
was not satisfied that Ada had died
a natural death. Mostly, it was be-
cause she knew all about Mary’s past—
and this death looked just too pat to
be true. So she talked to the police.

‘All that was needed was an ex-

‘humation of Ada’s body and an au-
topsy to prove that Ada had had
more than chocolate puddings and
onions in ‘the stew to thank for her
early demise.

Mary and Everett were. arrested—
and by the time they finished accus-
ing each other of Ada’s murder, they
were well on their way to the electric
chair. On July 16, 1936, they were
executed for their crime.
ALFRED Leonard Cline is a poisoner

who gave police a lot more trouble
‘than. he was worth—let alone the
trouble he gave to at least nine people
whose lives, bank accounts and nego-
tiable bonds he claimed. For a period
of about fifteen years, he went about
the lugubrious business of burying so
many wives and friends, you’d think
he’d be glad to retire from this world.
But the strange thing about Cline was

that in spite of the fact so many of .

his close associates died of heart at-
tacks, his heart was never affected.
When he was finally caught, he had
trunks full of love letters from hun-
dreds of women.

Cline killed so many people that he
got a little ahead-of himself. He got

so mixed up, that when he was burying .

Eva Delora Krebs Cline, he informed
the relatives of Isabelle Van Natta
Cline, that it was she who was going
to her eternal rest.

When his career finally came to an
abrupt end in a San Francisco court-
room in 1946, he received a sentence
for forgery, not for murder. The forg-
eries of wills, etc., could be proved,
but thé murders by poison, because
his victims had been cremated, could
not be proved in a court of law.

TRUE HOMICIDE CASES

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Copyright 19

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FS CHELC 11 OK

Why are the most notorious
poisoners in history women? ...
What type of killer favors
poison ee a weapon?... Why are

so many poisoners mass killers?

&
POISONING people can get to be a habit. Once
tried successfully, it becomes a hobby—a way
__ Of life.
Like many poison slayers before and after him, Alfred For a certain type of murderer, it has psychological
Cline was a repeat-killer. He slew nine before capture. advantages. There are some people who like to feel

that they are gods, shaping others’ destinies from
afar. For this type, when contemplating murder,

the use of poison seems the most logical. Poison HERE'S \
eliminates the necessity of being in on the final hour— a then

it eliminates the use of messy bludgeons or guns. It SIMPLE «
precludes the. necessity of even touching the victim. * tical, self-t«

It eliminates fingerprints. All the clues disappear peo lig
down the victim’s stomach. ocr ah
There is something about the use of poison that grades, WF
makes people who use it once resort to it, over and I¢s. BOO
‘over again. Once a poisoner, always a poisoner. poet ie
That’s how it goes. Poisoning.is a dangerous habit, site Ba
but like a drug that gives the illusion that all problems women
are solving themselves, the use of poison to eliminate i NO MONE

an enemy, seems to do the same thing. © Made Si

In ancient times, poison was looked upon as a fine a 220 Fift!

way of eliminating political enemies. Consequently, FS erin
kings and emperors of old made it a practice to keep I rage ti
animals near the table, upon whom they would test I Alter 7 4
their food. Some potentates, made eccentric by their Remy
fear of poison, insisted upon their cooks eating with I postage «

. them. Nevertheless, the clever poisoners found a way a: achite 'v
to get to their victims anyhow. If it wasn’t through Ses
food, it was through wine; if it wasn’t through wine I price, ser
it-was through candy... , ones

@ my reser

§ many ba

tae

Mary Creighton, one of the country’s most | SU FeLY
notorious women poisoners, arrives at the ‘ Name__
courthouse for opening of sensational trial. : Address _
1 City____

‘ Senne aa:

TRUE HOMICIDE CASES

a  . L a . g
| ¢ / 0 mY
ere) ff YS /


10

Rhonda Bell Martin, who poisoned six members of her
family, listens as evidence is pointed out to jury.

From time immemorial, women have been notori-
ous poisoners. There are reasons for this. For one
thing, they have better access to the food that is
eaten in a home—and access to pest eliminators, like
rat poisons and cockroach powders. Also, at one
time, they were in sole charge of preparing love
potions and other type drugs and herbs. From love
potions, it was but a half-step’ to poisons. So it
developed—the thought that the way to kill a man was
through his stomach.

And in spite of: the fact that poisoners share the

same fate as other killers, and go to the execu-.

tioner just like the others do, they nevertheless always

Dr. Ben Galbraith is guarded in prison hospital after
suicide attempt. Before he was captured, he had
murdered his young wife and his three children.

inspire imitators. France had a plague of poisoners
after the Marquise de Brinvilliers in the 1670's,
poisoned her father and her two brothers for the
family fortune. The Marquise was tortured, be-
headed and then cremated for her crime, but she
had such a rash of imitators, that apothecaries were

‘making a-fortune just from selling what they called

“succession powders” (poison).

| peice there have been so many notorious
European poisoners down through the centuries,
few people think of the United States.as a place

’ where poisonings take place. But they do.

Just last year, a pleasant, motherly housewife,
Mrs. Rhonda Bell Martin, was arrested for attempting
to poison her fifth husband, Ronald. She was ex-
tremely cooperative when Montgomery, Alabama,
police questioned her, and reeled off the story of her
life, which soon had the good officers reeling.

Yes, she said, she had tried to kill Ronald by
feeding him arsenic in his whiskey. Years before,
she went on, she had killed her mother and two of
her four other husbands by putting arsenic in their
coffee. She had also poisoned three of her five chil-
dren by feeding them arsenic in their milk.

There was something cheerful about Mrs. Martin’s
poisonings and their aftermaths. She seemed to
enjoy the whole thing, from the poisonings, through
the attendant illnesses, to the funerals and burials.
She kept a lovely family plot where everybody was
buried, and preserved as souvenirs, the get-well cards
and sympathy cards friends sent to the family.

TES there was. Mary Creighton. Mary had been
through a lot in her lifetime. She and her husband,
John, had undergone (Continued on page 66)

TRUE HOMICIDE CASES

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emotions guided them to disaster will
never be known.
John Atspins came home at: noon
that. day for, lunch and found little
Johnny alone. The boy' was able to
tell him only that. Mommy: had put
him to bed for a nap, and when he
woke up, she: was gone. When he
asked the neighbors if they’d seen her
go out, they told him about the white-
haired man in the car who’d driven

car and drove around the neighbor-
hood searching for her.

When he got back, he called up
Chief of Police George A. Danes, who
came around immediately to talk to
him. Danes phoned headquarters and
ordered an alarm sent out, but it
wasn’t until much later that it suddenly
hit Atspins that the “white-haired
man” might be Lemieux. He began
to put’ things together, remembering
Lemieux’s visits, Pauline’s admiration
of him, and had a sudden recollection
of the way Lemieux would sit staring
at Pauline. He told Danes about it,
and when the chief, checked he found
that Lemieux hadn’t shown up for
work that day. He wasn’t. at his room-
ing house, either. When Danes ex-
amined Lemieux’s record and found
that he was an ex-con who’d served
time for a manslaughter rap that was
really a murder, he ordered every
available officer to join the search for
the missing couple. A frantic APB fol-
lowed, and Danes personally talked to
police officers in neighboring New
England states.

off with Pauline. Atspins got into his |

The police didn’t catch up with
them until two:days later, on Decem-
ber 17th, and by that time, it was too
late. The car was discovered on a
lonely lovers lane near the Andover
Country Club, and.thé first thing the
police saw on looking inside was the
body of Joey Lemieux. He was on his
knees, his head on the seat, in the
front of the car, and there was a hose
connected to the exhaust pipe leading
through the floorboards into the car.
The engine had long since stopped,
out of gas, but the carbon monoxide
«had done its work.

But where was Pauline? There were
no footprints leading away from the

car, nor was there any indication that _

she’d been inside the car. When they
opened the trunk, however, the police
found her. And-on her throat were
the black and blue marks of the
strangler.

T? the police, this was the tip-off
that one more woman had _ rebuffed
Joey Lemieux. They figured that he’d
lured her out of the house on some
pretext, told her of his love for her,
and when she turned him down, he
killed her. This.was only a conjecture
of course, a police theory.

But what wasn’t a conjecture was
that for Joey it was only a matter of
time: before sudden death overtook
him. If he hadn’t arranged the details
himself, the police reckoned, it seemed
inevitable that either the state or some
irate husband would have gotten
around to doing it for him.

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- POISON SLAYERS

L--“ Continued from. page 10)

two murder trials and earned acquit-
tals. It seemed that she and John had
been accused of poisoning her brother,
Avery, and her’ mother-in-law, Mrs.
Creighton. Both of these people had
died of poisoning, and the only one
who benefited from their deaths was
Mary, who collected the insurance
money. But a timid New Jersey jury
refused to convict the couple on purely
circumstantial evidence. So in both
cases Mary and her husband went
scot free.

Perhaps it is well they did, because,
as it later turned out, poor John didn’t
know what it was all about. He had
had nothing to do with the poisonings,
and, therefore, felt that his family

‘simply had an evil genius for getting

_into trouble. After the second murder

trial, he moved his family to Mal-
verne, New York, hoping to change
his luck. He should have changed his
wife.

The evil genius had been Mary, all
along. ;

When they moved to Malverne witb
their daughter, Helen, they took in
another couple to live with them, Mr.
Everett Applegate and his wife, Ada.

It became a pleasant group that got
on well together. But the seeds of
tragedy were inherent in the set-up—
as they apparently would always be,
wherever Mary had a hand.

Everett Applegate was in his thirties
—a good-looking, well-dressed man,
who aspired to local leadership and an
occasional good time. His wife, Ada,
on the other hand, was afflicted with
an incurable appetite for food—and
looked it. By turns, the poor woman
would first diet and then gorge her-
self; giving her stomach so many fan-
tastic surprises, that she spent a good
part of her life, just being sick.

Her habits were beginning to sicken
Everett, especially since he was being
handsomely entertained by Mary
Creighton, whenever no one was
around. But Ada really began to pall’
on him, when he suddenly began to
notice the Creightons’ daughter and
developed a consuming passion for her.

TRUE HOMICIDE CASES

aciiieaaeiiea al

PROF. STEVE
ACCLA

During his
throughout the
Europe, Prof.
ported “Amazi
“Amusing,” anc
the press. The
The Boston Gl
papers wrote «
demonstration
“Sleepers by t!

Stars & Stripes

YES — YOU,
CAN B

Hypnotism is
received by th:
the age. The re
have mastered
ism is because
how to induce
been well-guar:
notic Sleep-inc
the Imported |}
can become a
notist within a

NEW METHO!
NOTS

Hypnotism is
as a toy or less:
scientific art an

AVERY HALE

Special Investigator for

TRUE DETECTIVE

ard cylinder on the
desk of Inspector Harold R. King, Com-
manding Officer of the Detective Division
of the Nassau County, New York, Police, at four
o’clock 6n the afternoon of September 28th last.
The Inspector looked at the cylinder, then at the
patrolman.

“There’s something queer going on over in Bald-
win, Inspector,” said O’Conner. “A woman named
Ada Appelgate died yesterday and I understand
that a couple named Creighton who lived in the
same house with her and her husband at twelve
Bryant Place were tried for an arsenic murder in
Newark, New Jersey, back in nineteen twenty-
three. Photostat copies of newspaper reports of
the Jersey case are in the cylinder there. A woman
in Baldwin who had some trouble with Mrs. Creigh-
ton checked up on her and when she found out that
Mrs. Creighton and her husband had been tried for

ATROLMAN JOSEPH O’CONNER gravely
placed a brown cardbo

(Left) Ruth Creighton, young daughter of one
couple of the strange menage at Baldwin, Long
Island. (Below) Mrs. Mary Creighton, her mother.
Their amazing revelations about the double house-
' hold led to a startling denouement

muré
and
coun
Ki
ing
finish
the
and
follo:
eight
State
awa)
was
for a
He
into
mine
who
told


a lot of gossip going on about Mrs. Appelgate’s death. This
woman who had the photostats is telling people that she got
awful sick once when she ate some cake of Mrs. Creighton’s,”’

‘Who is this woman?” King asked.

The patrolman handed him a slip of paper containing her
name and address.

“Seo this woman,” King ordered O’Conner, “get her com-
plete story and report back to me as quickly as possible.’

When O’Conner left, King called Detective Bert Bedell of
the First Squad and Detective Joseph Hizenski of the Homicide
Squad and passed on to them the facts in his possession. He
had known the dead woman for a number of years, and was
also slightly acquainted with her husband—Everett Appel-
gate, a man of about forty, prominent in American Legion
circles. He had never heard of the Creightons and, not having
seen Mr. Appelgate or his wife for more than a year, did not
know that they were sharing a home with another couple.

“Get hold of Appelgate,” he told the detectives, ‘and have a
talk with him, but be sure the Creightons don’t know about it.
Find out what he knows about the Creightons. They may not
be the same people who figured in that Jersey case. If they
are, and Appelgate doesn’t know about it, acquaint him with

(Right) The bungalow at Baldwin, home of Everett
C. Appelgate and scene of an incredible love and
death drama. It also sheltered Mr. and Mrs.
Creighton and the two families’ three children.
(Below) In foreground, at left, District Attorney
Martin W. Littleton, and second from left, In-
spector Harold R. King

Wh
aS


the fact and, in the light of that, ask him if there were any
suspicious circumstances surrounding his wife’s death. Also
find out what the woman is supposed to have died from and
the name of her doctor.”’

Patrolman O’Conner entered King’s office the second time
that day about seven o’clock, having talked with the woman
who had produced the photostats. “That Mrs. Creighton is
a bad character,” said O’Conner, who went on to explain that
his informant had revealed to him that, several months previ-
ously, some money had vanished from her pocketbook during
a visit of Mrs. Creighton to her home. ‘When the woman
threatened to prefer charges against Mrs. Creighton, Mrs.
Creighton did everything to prove that she was innocent and
a good friend. The woman fell for it, then one day Mrs.
Creighton brought her some cake and when she ate it she had
a terrible vomiting spell. That’s when she got real suspicious
of Mrs. Creighton. She accused Mrs. Creighton of trying to
poison her and Mrs. Creighton only laughed and said, “They
accused me of that one time over in New Jersey, but they
couldn’t prove it. You better not try it or I’ll sue you for
false arrest and take everything you’ve got.’ That’s how this
woman found out about the murder trial.”

Detectives Bedell and Hizenski came in with the result of
their talk with Appelgate while Patrolman O’Conner was still
there. “Nothing very exciting, Inspector,” said Bedell. “The
Creightons are the same people who were accused of that
Jersey arsenic murder, all right, but Appelgate has known
about it right along and says there’s positively nothing suspi-
cious about his wife’s death. She’s been sick for about a year
with one thing and another and died of gall bladder trouble.

(Below) Detective Joseph Hizenski and
Detective Charles Jones (right) as they
question Everett Appelgate (center) regard-
ing the sudden, mysterious death of his wife

46


gravely
on the

Com-
division
at four
sh last.
at the

1 Bald-
named
arstand
in the
twelve
rder in
wenty-
orts of
woman
Creigh-
ut that

sied for

murder, she went to the public library in New York
and had photostats made of the newspaper ac-
counts of the case.”

King reached into the cylinder and was examin-
ing the photostats before Patrolman O’Conner
finished talking. The reproductions were from
the New York Daily News and detailed the trial
and acquittal of Mr. and Mrs. John Creighton,
following the mysterious poisoning of the woman’s
eighteen-year-old brother, Raymond Avery. The
State had contended that the youth was done
away with for insurance money, but the evidence
was purely circumstantial and not damning enough
for a conviction.

He asked O’Conner how he had happened to come
into possession of the photostats. ‘A friend of
mine who drives a bakery wagon knows the woman
who had them. She told him about them and he
told me and I asked him to get them for me. There’s

(Right) John Creighton, unassuming head of one
family in the little bungalow at Baldwin the com-
plex affections and peculiar living arrangements
of which dumfounded even the case-hardened
officers. (Below) Another view of Mrs. Creighton


Hee duchy Ia Laele, Wil, CLEC, Ntoar (One

terug

The peacefulness of
Elizabeth street, right,
in Utica, N. Y., was the
scene of a murder that
shocked the entire city.

By WILLIAM A. SILVERMAN

Crimson Saga

of New York’s

GANG

FEUDISTS

HE coal tender behind the locomo-

tive swayed from side to side as

the big train took the curves at 80
miles an hour. The fireman braced his
feet and dug his shovel into the pile of
coal.

Red Thibedeau grinned, the beads of
sweat on his forehead glistening like dew
in the reflected light from the blazing fire-
box.

The engineer grimly clutching the
throttle, eyes staring down the long, end-
less ribbons of steel, was due to retire
soon.

“And then,” the younger man mused to
himself, “T’'ll go up front and show ‘em

38

how to ball the jack.” Suddenly the hiss
of air broke into the freman’s thoughts.
Big wheels groaned. The huge loco-
motive lurched to a rumbling stop.

Thibedeau, caught unaware, slipped
and clutched wildly for support, then
tumbled in a heap on the steel floor.

“You trying to kill me, Thompson?”
he shouted angrily at the engineer.

“Take a look down the tracks just
ahead of us and see if you see what I do,”
the engineer shot back.

Thibedeau poked his head out the side
of the cab.

A scant 50 feet in front of the locomo-
tive, outlined in the powerful glare of

Wun

WazZ
1939

Detective John B. Grande, above,
combined clever detective work
and a bulldog tenacity to solve
a shocking murder mystery.

the headlights, a threshing, black form
lay spread-eagled across the tracks.

“Whew !” the younger man exclaimed.
“Tt's a man and he’s tied down. Come
on.

Thompson and the fireman scrambled
down from the cab, An anxious con-
ductor and brakeman, swinging their lan-
terns, ran up to find the reason for the un-
precedented stop of the Buckeye Limited
in this wild, heavily-wooded section of
the Mohawk valley. The date was Feb-
ruary 3, 1922,

“Somebody’s tied to the rails,” the en-
gineer shouted to the other trainmen.

Unintelligible sounds emanated from

-
Rocco
victim
doorwa:
derer st

“Wi
crie
Utic
fina:
drat


pies with him and threatened

r-Dispatch Reporter With Chief of Policé)
y and Other Police Officials Will W

ness Execution—Distriet Attorney and De-
fendant’s Counsel veal Statements

Raffaele Ame srileta, > & viet
the murder of Hn ee
7 ih, electri
O'clock toni » Thelerecutii
a John B. Grande and red Or
E Charles Aken, Chief of J '
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friends avid relatives mear and far, | Seded. an:

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New School in [semrtetaa
Seventeenth Wa

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while you did the work?” asked Mc-
Neill.

“See if you can guess,” replied Pot-
terton, with a sullen grin.

They put him in the city jail. An
hour later he had a companion, a
man named Lennie Gillis, who had
been picked up for mere vagrancy.
Potterton and Gillis got rather
chummy

“ek » said Gillis, “I get out of this
clink tomorrow and I need a little
dough to get out of town. If I can do
something for you on the outside, pal,
will you slip me a piece of change?”

“Sure,” said Potterton, and wrote
down an address in the northwest sec-
tion of Miami. “Tell this guy that Pll
be out tonight, or tomorrow. This crib
is a cinch to bust out of. Pll meet him
at his joint. Tell him to give you ten
bucks.”

Lennie Gillis was released the next
morning. What young Potterton didn’t
know was that Gillis, although a
legitimate vag, had been employed as
a stool to pump him. So Gillis, Mc-
Neill and Howard went to the address
given Gillis and caught one Leo Jones,
who was quite gullible when told that
Potterton had confessed, which he
didn’t, and said that Jones was the
ringleader.

“He’s a liar!” roared Jones. “All I
did was wait in the car. He pulled all
the robberies!” __

During the week following his ar-
rest, Potterton confessed to fourteen
of a certain 30 holdups. But the
police were convinced that he had
nothing to do with the $260,000 Moore
jewel robbery.

On April 7 Potterton presented a
sorry sight as he stood before Judge
Willard for sentence. Beside him was
his mother, the mother who had prac-
tically supported him for years and
who worked as a clerk in the same

courthouse where her son was sen- ,

tenced.
64

AMAZING DETECTIVE CASES

“Do you want a trial by jury?”
asked Judge Willard.

Potterton dropped his head and re-
fused to answer.

“T am asking you, Potterton, do you
want a trial by jury?” went on Judge
Willard.

“What’s the difference?” said Pot-
terton. “It won’t do me no good.”

“Then, have you anything to say
before sentence is passed on you?”

No answer.

“Mrs. Potterton,” said Judge Wil-
lard, turning to his mother. “I have
known you for years around this
courthouse and I feel sorry for you.
But if I show this boy any mercy, I
am convinced that sooner or later he
will be killed or kill someone else.”

AMAZIN

'WETECTIVE

his skill as a checker player. He was
the champion of death’ row.

Graham accepted the deal with
alacrity and this should have warned
Georgie, but the latter was too blown
up with pride at his own genius—for
wasn’t he making a cop, and Graham
was a cop no matter what he had done
—pay for his, Georgie’s deed?

The checker board was set up that
afternoon and the iest match in
the history of that game ss It was
one game, winner take all... and
Satan held the stakes.

Appel, who had beaten every other
man in death row, found himself up
against. keen competition. He made his
moves with deliberation. Graham was
sweating: freely. The perspiration
stood out on George’s brow, too.

Two and one-half hours after the
game had started, Appel looked at his
single king held in check in one cor-
ner of the board by Graham’s Rt of
kings, then he glanced up ruefu
> “You win,” he admitted.

Death row had a new checker
champion.

EORGE APPEL was a man of
honor and he paid his debt. Two
days after the checker game, he
stopped a keeper in the corridor, told
him that he had an important con-
fession to make.

He was taken to the Warden’s office
where he dictated and signed the fol-
lowing:

“To whom it may concern: I am

_making this statement of my own free
will to clear an innocent man, Daniel:

Graham, who was convicted of a crime
which I’did. However, I would have
confessed to this matter before, but
because I knew that Daniel Graham
was a police officer, I was against him
on account of what the members of
the police department did to me.

“At this time my mind and opinion
have changed. I state this time that
I planned and committed the murder
of Judson Pratt which crime Daniel
Graham has been accused of.”

Was an innocent man about to go

‘to the electric chair? That question,

an ever intriguing one, persisted and
sympathy for Graham gained state-
wide proportions. ' -To prevent a mis-
carriage of justice, Governor Alfred
E. Smith gave’ both convicts a two
weeks’ reprieve, st

“Your Honor,” said Mrs. Potterton,
as her fingers twitched and her eyes
welled with tears, “it seems that he
just can’t go straight. I don’t know
what to do.”

“It is the sentence of this Court,”
intoned Judge Willard, “that you
serve 25 years in State’s Prison at
hard labor.”

Leo Jones, for his participation in
the robberies, was sentenced to five
years in the same prison.

Crime pays—until you get caught.
And you always get caught.

Then the payments stop.

(The name of Lennie Gillis is ficti-
tious in order to save the person in-
volved from further embarrassment.)

... AND SATAN
HELD THE STAKES

(Continued from page 43)

Appel, shackled to a keeper, was re-
turned to New York, to undergo ques-
tioning at.a hearing which would
determine whether or not, on the basis
of this new evidence, ex-patrolman
Graham was to receive a new trial.

The hearing was held before Judge
Morris Koenig in the ancient Criminal
Courts Building on Centre Street.

“You planned and committed the
murder of Judson Pratt?” Assistant
District Attorney George N. Brothers
asked after Appel had been sworn in
ec oer taken the witness stand:

“ee es.”

“You were in the car in which Pratt
met his death on the day of the
murder?”

“In it,’ Appel said scornfully, “I
drove it.”

Shrewdly Brothers seized on this
note. “The murder car was a Chrys-
ler coupe. You drove it, you say.
Did you have a driver’s license?”

Appel sneered, “Of course not!”

“But you drove the car. Then you
would know if it had a standard gear
shift.” Brothers held one _half-
clenched fist forward. “Let us sup-
pose I am holding the knob of the
gear shift. I pull it back toward me
and slightly to the left, it is then
in one particular speed. There are
three forward speeds—low, second
and high. There is a fourth position—
reverse. Perhaps you can tell me what
speed the car is in now.’

Appel scratched his head.

“Come now,” Prosecutor Brothers
va ed. “I have the gear shift lever

ed back toward me and to the left.
pee driver can answer that.”

Appel looked up at the Assistant
District Attorney. His eyes gleamed as
he sensed a trick.

“You got the car in reverse,” he
announced boldly.

“Wrong,” snapped Brothers. “It is
in first, or low speed.”

There were more questions—the
position of the ignition key, whether
it was turned to the right or left.
George Appel flunked them all, one
after another. Brothers waved him
from the stand, triumphantly.

“That’s all,” he said. “You never
drove the murder car. You don’t know
the first thing about driving.”

ib was returned to Sing Sing.
t hope was gone when Graham
ml him 48 the checker game, but

now Grat
gone.

N the
Grahi
his head \
leg slit to
electrodes
Father. 7

At 11:1
last mile t
leads to €
entered t!
ber. Two
the chair
current s
11:16 he

anyone
The W
“Who wi
“T will
A spor
ing Wa
and plar
tain Ke
Guardsn
of mach
lant pric

T ni
« sea
Cell Ho
emergin
It was J
guards.
“War
final m:
right n
and She
ing you
Actio
save his
went 0
would
a stall <
to prey
death.
Stage
pounds
by an
teered
nection
explosi
the op¢
him ar
Cell H
reache:
Quic
place.
Then
raced
home
The
prison
cleare:
Block
waitin
rision


pases

elec. NY

(queens )

VIZ 3"

Detective Lieutenant Michael J. MceDer-

mott looked at the wavering figures in the

black notebook, noted that the frail pencil marks

had slithered off into noithiig.. Then he gazed

down at the bloody, uniformed figure on the floor
and he made himself a pledge.

“T’]l get him, Ed,” he said. “You did your part
and I'll do mine.”

Lieutenant Edward Kemmer may have heard or
sensed his friend’s words, but he could not respond.
He was dying on the floor of a little restaurant at
Halleck Avenue and Fresh Pond Road iin the Glen-
dale section of New York City, two blocks from the
polHce station where he was to have reported for
desk duty half an hour later.

MeDermott had plucked the notebook from his
hands. The stub of a pencil already had fallen to
the floor.

ftd Kemmer was done—a bullet through his stom-
ach and two more through his neck.

Shortly after 7 o’clock in the morning, three days
before Christmas, McDermott was routed from his
bed to begin this case—one of the strangest murder
cuses he ever experienced.

Kemmer not only was a friend of his, but also
worked in the same precinct. And in this police
district he died, only two blocks from the station.

Ed Kemmer had been dead when the Wyckoff
Ilcights Hospital ambulance arrived—dead not
move than half an hour atter he kissed his wife
good-by in their Richmond Hill home and
told her not .to peek that night when he
brought her Christmas present through the front
door.

Lieutenant MeDermott had no illusions about the
difficulties of his job when he set out on the killer’s
trail.

The year was 1927, Prohibition boom days, when
minders were a dime a dozen,

But never then or now-—has anybody killed a
member of The Finest and not been hunted to the
cnds of the earth,

So McDermott, an able and experienced cop,
ince promoted to inspector, went to work. Tirst he
learned from witnesses the time-table of this mur-
cer,

The time-table began at 7 o’clock. Charles
Schneider, the restaurant porter, had arrived then
ind begun his chores. Fifteen minutes later, Clem-
chs Heise, the cook, came to join him.

Heise no sooner had donned his apron than the
side door opened and closed.

Schneider went to investigate and found two men
making themselves comfortable at a table.

“Gimme a shot,” said a big fellow with flaring
cars. “We been celebrating.”

“We don't serve liquor,” said the porter,

6

a

“If On’y Thelma

,

By Jack Fayer -

Special Investigator


terton,
r eyes
nat he

know

Sourt,”
t you
son at

ion in
o five

aught.

s ficti-
on in-
ment.)

as re-
ques-
would
e basis
olman
rial.
Judge
iminal
et.
‘d the
sistant
others
orn in
nd.

1 Pratt
of the

ly, bie |

n this
Shrys-
1 say.

ot!”
‘nm you
{1 gear
half-
5 sup-
yf the
rd me
then
re are
second
ition—
> what

others
lever
1e left.

sistant
ned as

now Graham’s last hope was also
gone.

ON the night of August 9, 1928,
Graham had his last supper. As
his head was shaved and his trouser
leg slit to receive the death-dealing
electrodes, he wept: “I am innocent,
Father. They are killing an innocent
man.” :

‘At 11:10 p. m. he was led along the
last mile to the little black door which
leads to eternity. He collapsed as he.
entered the brightly lit death cham-
ber. Two keepers strapped him into
the chair and at 11:12 the first lethal ,
current shot through his body. At
11:16 he was pronounced dead.

DETECTIVE

anyone to go out and attempt it.

The Warden looked about the room.
“Who will volunteer?” he asked.

“J will,” said Father O'Neill.

A spontaneous cheer arose, silenc-
ing Warden Crawford’s objections,
and plans were speedily made. Cap-
tain Keith instructed his National
Guardsmen to lay down a etree
of machine gun fire to cover the gal-
lant priest.

A nine that night, the beam of a
searchlight playing over besieged

- Cell House Three, picked up a figure
emerging from the killer’s fortress.
It was John Pease, one of the captured
guards.

“Warden, I’ve come with Daniels’
final message. He wants those cars
right now. He just shot McClelland
and Shepherd in cold blood. He’s giv-
ing you just half an hour.”

Action was imperative. He had to
save his remaining men. Guard Pease
went out, shouted that the answer
would come in five minutes. This was
a stall and it gave Father O’Neill time
to prepare for his rendezvous with
death.

Staggering under the weight of 100
pounds of dynamite, and accompanied
by an intrepid miner who volun-
teered to affix the electrical con-
nections which were to set off the
explosion, Father O’Neill stepped into
the open courtyard. The convicts saw
him and a hail of bullets came from
Cell House Three, but somehow ‘they
reached their objective safely.

Quickly the dynamite was put in
place. The wires were connected.

Then the heroic priest and miner ~

raced back. A guardsman rammed
home the plunger. 3

The roar of the explosion shook the
prison, but when the smoke had
cleared away, the west wall of Cell
Block Three still stood intact, and the
waiting officials could hear yells of de-
rision from the embattled convicts.

The minutes ticked away through
the long night and as the dawn ap-
proached, the confidence of the jail-
breakers waned. Throughout the
night bullets from the machine guns
of the National Guard Battery con-
tinued their never ceasing drumming
against the building.

A barrage of chlorine gas had sent
dozens of choking convicts out into
the open, their arms upraised.

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George Appel followed him to the
chair three minutes later. He walked
jauntily and unassisted into the death
room puffing a_ fat cigar. He took
a long drag, and handed it to a keeper.
Then he calmly seated himself as
though it were an arm chair he was
-getting into. | A broad grin spread

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Death was a minute away, but look- Proven £0 emcee) ‘Costa you Bothing.
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it. He was a prankster to the end. His
last words were spoken in a firm, clear
voice and: the witnesses heard it
distinctly. . ;

They were: “Ill be a baked Appel

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(Continued from page 25) || MONEY RETUR
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wit, ten minutes Patt d Danny Dan- | 0) pe peroae Howat | mnaetroentoun
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on the floor were the crumpled bodies
of Erwin, who had died of his wounds,:
Guards Eeles, Rinker, Shepherd an

McClellan, while still lying outside in
the courtyard were the bodies of
Brown and Wiggins. Guards Shillo,
Pease and Shea had gone out as mes-
sengers and had not returned. Guards
Osborn, Hollister, Roche and Earl had

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unconscious. ,

“We're licked, Danny,” pleaded
Pardtie weakly. ‘The Warden won't
give in. End it for me, Danny!”

Daniels looked at his chief hench-
man. Both Red Majors and Al Davis,
a look of blank despair on their tired
faces, nodded. “Yea for him and for
us, Danny,” Red said.

Siowly Danny Daniels, still tight-
lipped and_ in omitable, placed the
muzzle of his n against Pardue’s
temple and pulled the trigger. The
stricken convict jerked spasmodically
and lay still, a crimson stain widening
on his head.

“You want it?” Daniels looked once
more at his lieutenants.

Slowly Majors and’ Davis nodded.

Fire spurted twice from Daniels’
gun and the two desperate men fell
to the bloody floor.

The corridor of Cell Block Three
was deathly still as the semmaining
convicts, numb. with fear, watche
Danny Daniels. :

For a long moment the leader of
the prison break paced the bloody,
debris-strewn _ corridor. Then he
stepped carefully to a barred window
of the cell block. Beyond the walls
a faint tint of light was showing.
Soon the sun would cast its first long
shadows of light across the clear green
hills and rest on the delicately-co ored
brown and yellow leaves. i

From without, amid the acrid fumes
of gunpowder and smoke the morn-
ing air rushed. in, clean and fresh.

As if to himself, Dann Daniels
spoke. “No prison can hold me.” He
raised the still smoking gun to his.
head ang. pulled the. trigger. The
great prison break was over! Danny
Daniels was free. :

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a


etme,

(Hadn't Talked”

| She Was Wise Enough to Bet the |

_ “Right”? Horses, But Why Did New {
York City Police Think She Could |
Finger Cop KillersShe Didn’t Know?

Lieutenant Edward Kem-
mer, left: Even as he was
dying he attempted to
write down a clew. that
would finger the gunmen
who shot him in the res-
taurant at the left below

Eddie Byrne: He thought a
short circuit would fix a
man trying to “beat his

time" .

Inspector Michael J. McDermott: He saw his
pledge to a dying fellow officer fulfilled

“Wait,” interjected the younger bandit. “L
lock the outside door.”

Silently, Schneider handed over the key
the bandit struggled with the lock. He coul
work it.

“You!” he snarled, motioning with the gun.
porter flipped the lock with a’turn of the «
and left the key in.

This was done and the porter, with the
prodding his back, was marched off to
kitchen. «

The younger bandit drew a roll of wire from
inside pocket and expertly bound the hands
feet of Heise and Schneider. Then the two set
for the safe. The porter said it was open, anc
was.

But all the gunmen found was a box of ci:
and they removed that. The cash-register, hi
ever, yielded $25.

HEY were about to leave when they hear

pounding on the door.

The bandits looked at each other. startled.

“Hey, Clemens!” the voice cried from outs
“Open up! I’m hungry!”

The older bandit whispered, ‘We better let
in. Might cause trouble otherwise.”

He concealed his gun in his overcoat pocket :
tiptoed to the door, opened it.

A tall, husky man stepped inside. He was \
muffled in a large black coat but in a few seco:
“Can that!” said the other, a smaller, thinner man he had opened that, and the blue of his police u

with brown eyes. ‘What you got to drink?” form stood out.
“If you wait a minute you can have coffee,” said Bound and helpless in the kitchen, Heise kr
Schneider, looking toward the kitchen, that the man who entered must have been Kenn

“To Hell with the coffee,” shouted the older man, The Lieutenant stopped in at this time every mo
and as he stood up, he pulled a gun from his coat ing for his coffee.

pocket. The two restaurant employes heard Kemr
“This is a stickup. Open it up!” start to say something. But they couldn't m:
He looked meaningly toward a safe in the far it out as his words were lost in the blast o:
corner. shot.
“There’s nothing in that,” gasped Schneider. Schneider and Heise struggled determinedly w

“Honest. I’ll open it.” their bonds, trying to free themselves so tl


yNAG & &y

Sh BA dd aa eS SH AN a

saab

SAB il OR nk ill

Nn cemetee is AD eta e

Maid AB oad its AIBN Ae sain: iss aiendaninor csv

ov eee

~~

ih at tied

258 New York History

Taken.” There was now no doubt that “the vile fellow” was
apprehended and in safe custody. Elihu Phinney’s challeng-
ing notice and the $200 reward had had its effect on a man
named Thomas Cahoon, a native of Cazenovia, New York,
who came across the notice while in Owego, and catching
Arnold’s trail followed it 320 miles to Pittsburgh. He ar-
rived there on the first of March and soon after went one
evening into Henderson’s Tavern, where they told him a
countryman of his was in the room. When he realized that
the stranger answered Arnold’s description, Cahoon asked
the other customers to leave the room. He read Arnold the
advertisement and, looking directly at him, said, “You are
the man.” He observed that the school teacher kept his hand
under his coat, but seemed unconcerned. Arnold agreed to
go before a magistrate, although he maintained that his name
was Smith. They started out and soon a crowd of thirty to
forty were at their heels, when suddenly Arnold pulled a pis-
tol out from under his coat and fired at his own head, but

not before one of the crowd hit his arm so that all he suf-

fered were burns and a crease in his skull; the explosion
knocked Cahoon flat on his face. Why he hadn't searched
Arnold is hard to understand. The next morning, in jail,

~ Arnold was ready to sign a confession before a local magis-

trate. Contrition was the keynote and he was more than ready
to yield up to the state the life he had been trying to summon
sufficient courage to destroy. | ie

The Otsego Herald published copies of the various docu-
ments sent east by Cahoon, establishing his right to the $200.
but that intrepid Hawkshaw had no intention of coming back
to Cooperstown with the murderer. He claimed with open-
faced candor that he was afraid to venture alone. Since the
advertisement did not require more than that Amold be
lodged in jail, it was up to Otsego County to claim its own:
On the L5th of April, Brown Smith and Eliphaz Alexander
of the Burlington Committee set out for Pittsburgh. They
first had to go to Philadelphia for extradition papers.
thence to Pittsburgh. They covered a thousand miles and, dle-
spite official redtape. deposited Arnold in the Otsego County
jail in Cooperstown thirty-two days after leaving Burlington.
May 17th. In reporting this Mr. Phinney adds a signincamt
note, for the public mood was changing, “The wonappy
Arnold manifests every symptom of horror and remorse at

“y

nage 8

SA ms BIN (a eR a RNR OMA PNM aN

eee

Se ome NRA 9 PRN HN

Aetna mien

Be OM Aas

Te eh a

grt

STEPHEN ARNOLD 259

a

_ the enormity of his crime. He represents in the highest colors

the effects of an unhappy and ungovernable temper; he de-
plores the violence of his passions.” The monster, the tiger in
human shape, now that he was down there on Second Street
in the dirty old jail is “unhappy Arnold,” the same buck
- teeth, the same nasal whine, the same hangdog look he had
when he was the Burlington village schoolmaster—no differ-

ent, except more defeated, all the cold rigidity burned out of
him.

III — Tue Tria

With the expeditiousness of frontier justice, the trial was
held June 4th, one hundred and forty-five days after the
crime. The log courtroom, thirty by thirty feet, was jam-
packed and guards had to be placed at the doors. On the
bench was James Kent, Chief Justice of the State Supreme
Court, an early lecturer in law at Columbia College and one
of the most thoughtful of the Federalist leaders. The Grand
Jury included a number of prominent citizens: James Aver-
ell, the tanner and ancestor of Averell Harriman, John Mf.
Bowers, whose home, like Averell’s still adds architectural
distinction to Cooperstown, and Abner Pier of Pierstown.
It also included the journalist, Elihu Phinney, which may
seem unusual to us, but a grand jury need not be impartial.
It must merely return a probable cause of a crime, and quite
likely no one had followed the case more carefully than the
editor-publisher of The Otsego Herald. The Grand Jury
brought in the indictment in the morning, whereupon Ar-
nold pleaded “not guilty.” At 3 o’clock the same afternoon
the brief trial began with the reading of the indictment.

Mr. Nathan Williams, for the People, called as bis first
witness Dr. Gaius Smith, who knew neither Betsey Van Am-
burgh nor the prisoner before he saw him on January 12th.
He recounted the two visits Saturday afternoon and Sunday
morning, the obstructive tactics of Mrs. Arnold, the sad con-
dition of little Betsey and Arnold’s confession of guilt. with
his promise of half of all his property 1f he could save Betsey’s
life. Dr. Smith supposed the whipping was the cause of her
death. The second witness was Dr. Day who corroborated Dr.
Smith’s testimony, and told of Arnold’s Sunday visit to his

_ place. Thomas R. Gold, the prominent Whitesboro lawyer,


Seis isc tetonchn pate

7 Up aed att gs
i i itn Abe 5 nS A MAM la i TR te RY AE Nil hae 2

ress

wes acts

saaiba wae Az:

ThngP Rad bh aed inc an Ry Na aa sda ics onc

254 New York Hisrory

Willard Vincent Huntington’s Old Time Notes contains
an account given to Huntington by Israel Colgrove, SS
Asa, a pupil in Arnold’s school that Friday morning, t - es
after the beating. Arnold had made his usual way from uis
home in Burlington to the combination church and school.
which served him on Taylor Hill.

Hardly had the early session begun before the assembled
boys and girls noticed:a marked spirit of restlessness in
their teacher... . This continued throughout the day;
the schoolmaster frequently arising from his chair and,
with every symptom of increasing perturbation, making
as many trips to a window which commanded a view of
the section extending toward Burlington Flats.

Meanwhile, Betsey played in bed with her rag baby, growing
sicker as the day progressed.
On Saturday afternoon Arnold sent for the new physic-
ian who had come to the community from Bennington, Ver-
mont, the vear before, Dr. Gaius Smith, Smith had never met
Arnold before and it is noteworthy that the Arnolds first
turned to a stranger. The child was on Mrs. Arnold’s lap and
very sick; he felt her pulse and noted that her hands ai
rough. Mrs. Arnold said Betsey “had a breaking si . ie
doctor supposed she had worms and gave some insti uctions
but he failed to examine her. There was talk of his return:
ing but Mrs. Arnold was against that. .
Mrs. Arnold was caught ina trap, but she made her choice,
difficult as it may have been. Between the life of her niece
and the safety of her husband she chose the latter. If she
could conceal the cause of the child’s illness, if no one saw
her terribly beaten backside, no one would suspect Arnold.
Despite her horrorstruck remark of Thursday night, it oS
be that she didn’t realize until later that life was eb oe
from the little body. When the next-door neighbors, Lemue
and Rebecca Hubbel, came to sec Betsey, Mrs. Arnoia put
wet wood on the fire and the room became so filled watt
smoke that the visitors could see very little. The child Pt
gagoing and appeared to be in great distress but Mrs. caret ;
said she had a terrible case of worms and kept Mrs. Hubbe

. ealline
S there, insens eyes rolling
away from her. As she lay there, insensible, her ey

i i ing’ : od bv
in her head, Arnold, bowed with growing remorse, sto

yt

es IFPI EO

asin NAR 9

Fe nee ee ot nee ee en

laste

innaptane:

98 i Ra SRA

Ait ee

STEPHEN ARNOLD . 255

her bedside and said, ‘Betsey, I’ve been a cruel creature—I’d
rather die myself than let you die.”

The remark, remembered by Mrs. Hubbel at the trial, re-
flects Arnold’s deepening depression Saturday night and Sun-
day. He resolved to commit suicide but presumably his wife
persuaded him, rather, to recall Dr. Smith. He went to
Smith’s place very early and the Doctor asked if the child
was worse. Arnold broke down; he said, ‘I want to tell you
something and can’t— I’m ruined.” He repeated this several
times and then went on, “I will tell you—'I have whipped it
to death, and if you will go and cure it, and keep it a secret,
I will give you half my property,—even all.”

They went to the house together and the Doctor asked
Mrs. Arnold to let him see the child and she refused. Her
husband’s conscience now was stronger than his fear and her
husband told her, “You must let the Doctor see the child,
for it cannot be kept private.” And so, realizing that all

= chance of protecting him from himself was hopeless, she let

the doctor see the child, the body cut and mangled from her
legs to the middle of her back. The bruised parts appeared
“black, withered, dead and sunk down.”

At this point one of the least charming traits of this most
uncharming man came to the fore. There was always about
him something of the whiner and one hears his plaintive
petulance when he tells the Doctor that his wife had ad-
vised him to whip the child as ‘she was obstinate and would
not read. His wife had whipped her before and it did the
child good. In his despair he suggested that they ought to
send for Betsey’s mother, but so far as I know they never did.

Dr. Smith advised Arnold to call in the other two phy-
sicians in the neighborhood, Dr. Royal Ross and Dr. Erza
Sheldon Day. (It is a remarkable commentary on the unpre-
dictability of the American frontier that the Burlington area,
with a population of not more than 2000, should, in 1805,
be able to call upon the services of three physicians, two of
whom would, the next year, become charter members of the
county medical society.) He went first to Dr. Day and they
walked out together and stood beside a fence. Arnold lay his
head on his arms across the bars; his long, eangling frame
shook as the tears came. He confessed all over again; the

- shame and guilt and fear wracked him and he offered half of

wie? t

Fa a ae a

et nd hint Beiter ie ol ote

%

ind adlasia i has ORY

cab ater’ Sd

Sa ode Ee

soa Da San RSINGD 552M Maite’ seni a ae Sn le Sb acto

256 New York History

his property. to Dr. Day—as he had offered the other half to
Dr. Smith—if he could cure her. They picked up Dr. Ross
and went back to the house to find Betsey delirious, with a
high fever, begging them not to whip her to death. Dr. Day
shook his head and said, ‘Arnold! a dreadful moment awaits
you.” .

The next day, Monday, January 14, 1805, Betsey VanAm-
burgh died but Arnold was not there to see the end. Sunday
afternoon the Hubbels had come back to see how the patient
did and while they were in the house Arnold disappeared,
driven to the woods in unmitigated panic. He hid until night
fall and then followed the stream beds toward the Susque-
hanna River. Years later there survived a tradition that he
wore either his shoes or his snowshoes. backward in the early
stages of his flight to confuse any pursuers. After that first
night he made no attempt to conceal himself; he carried a
ereat burden of guilt and he lacked all purpose. He knew
that he would be captured, that God would deliver him to

his pursuers. One night in a haybarn where he slept he sa

a halter hanging from a nail. and considered suicide, but
the will was lacking. Down the Susquehanna he walked, then
west to Pittsburgh. In Pittsburgh he purchased a pair of pis-
tols, bullets and powder to do what he could not bring him-
self to do in the hay barn—though why a man would buy a
pair of pistols to take his own life, one can only conjecture.
By this time it was March.

I] — Pursvuir AND CAPTURE

The first newspaper in the. Cooper country was the Olsego
Herald, published by that doughty pioneer journalist and
founder of a great publishing house, Elihu Phinney. The

Herald appeared every Thursday, and, unlike many small |

town papers of the ume, it carried at least one column of
local news. Phinney covered every phase of Arnold’s fight,
capture and trial, including the oft-quoted story of the hang.
yard scene; he was foreman of the grand jury; he publishec
an account of the trial, and, later, Arnold’s contessiou. in-
deed, but for Elihu Phinney there would be no record ot
Stephen Arnold, for the court records are long since ost.

So it is that the Herald becomes, from this point forward,

our principal source of information in the Arnold case; it 1s

rans

Tee

YAP ip olay bop:

Oe AGA NAP OR 8 RI ow

et eee

ee nt ate ey

tag A II ABH Pan

STEPHEN ARNOLD 257

safe to assume that Mr. Phinney himself covered the story.
The first notice—a brief paragraph headlined “Barbarity’—
appeared four days after Arnold’s departure.

Two weeks later (31 January) Mr. Phinney really let him.
self go. Over in Burlington a Committee of five of the lead-
ing citizens had been formed and a fund of $200.00 had been
raised for the apprehension of Arnold and his return to Bur-
lington or for sufficient evidence that he was lodged safely in
jail in the “United States, Louisiana, either of the Canadas,
or Nova Scotia.” Three of the Committee— Eliphaz Alex-
ander, farmer and half owner of a sawmill, Merrick Chamber-
lain, one the earliest settlers of this new country and a farm-
er, and Smith Brown, who was soon to be appointed a cap-
tain of the militia cavalry—the elite branch of the local mili-
tary—came to Mr. Phinney, told him their story and asked
that he write it up for the paper as an advertisement.

The notice which apparently was reprinted in hundreds of
newspapers, faithfully reflects the violent feeling of the com-
munity, the committee, and Mr. Phinney himself. Later,
when passions had cooled, Phinney would excuse the “high
coloring” of the style as his means of “arousing the attention
of the public to the apprehension of the accused.” Now he
wrote of “the savage fury of this tiger in human shape,” this
“monster.” who left the child a “mass of bruised, lacerated,
raw flesh, her thighs and legs ... deeply cut in various places,
exhibiting a sight to chill the blood of the most insensible of
the human race.” There followed a description of Arnold
which T have quoted above, adding that he had “something
of a down look;” a most telling cliché, unhappily lost from
our contemporary vocabulary. .This is a masterly piece of
contemporary journalism—clear, accurate (the trial sub-
stantiated every fact), passionate. Indeed, the more one reads
Elihu Phinney, the more one respects his prose, it having that
same muscular vitality as did the writing of his sometime
friend and townsman, William Cooper, whose Guide to the
Wilderness remains the clearest contemporary description we
have of the New York frontier.

During February and March, Arnold was reported seen in’
Middlefield, six miles from Cooperstown, and in Philadel-
Phia but it was not until the issue of March 28 that the
Herald could carry the headline, “The Savage Ruffian

4 ef wae! ¢

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&

Fred 4 wi ed fT

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260 New York History

in the Defense’s cross-examination, trying to build some
shred of sympathy for the schoolteacher, asked Dr. Day, “Did
the prisoner, when he came to you, appear to be much af-
fected?”

“He did,” said the Doctor, “and said if the child died it
would ruin his character, and offered me half of his property
to cure her.”

_ Then came to the witness stand Rebecca Hubbel, the next

door neighbor—remembering the wet wood and the smoky
room, remembering Sunday afternoon when Arnold ran
away. Mrs. Hubbel was followed by the most damaging wit-
ness of all, Sally Adams, the hired girl, for Sally was in the
house that January night. She spoke without malice—but she
told the jury a clear, uncontroverted story of the spelling

lesson, the sticks, the beatings, the high temper, the pathetic |

request of Betsey to thaw her feet. 7 ce, oe
Eliphaz Alexander was called and when the District Attor-.
ney asked if, on the way from Pittsburgh to Cooperstown, he
heard Arnold make any confession, he replied that he ap-
peared very sorry, that he said he deserved to die and fre-
quently wished Alexander and Smith would shoot him. One
of the curious details of the trial, considering the size of Bur-

a 2 eet
lineton, was that the miller and milttiaman Alexander did

not know the schoolmaster Arnold before he went to fetch
him, though Arnold said he knew Alexander. That Dr. Gam
Smith, a newcomer, should not have known Arnold is less
surprising. .

Lemuel Hubbel was the next witness and he was asked
only one question: as his neighbor, had he found Arnold a
man of violent passions? Once he had seen Him beat a cow
severely for a trifling cause. oe

Sally Adams was recalled. She told of Mrs. Arnold's pro-
phetic exclamation after the last beating ana Betsey's mie
plaint about her frozen feet. The day before che tragedy Sal y
had heard him say that he wished he was like the old country
people, so that he could whip her (Sally) to death, means,
as she supposed, that he wished he possessed a hare heart.
Finally she was asked if she had ever discovered very aaa
ous passions in the prisoner. She said no, tne.prisoner iat
always used her well.’ .

With this the testimony closed, for the prisoner's attorney

oA etre aeRO REO ENTS ORR ity a

qaonriae

bt a NEDA

ee Mehndi WOR Athy!

Sign Ae dais,

ec

STEPHEN ARNOLD 261

had no witnesses to call for the defense. Mr. Gold, a seeming-

ly reluctant detender, addressed the jury. He did the best he

-could, perhaps, under the circumstances. He denied the in-

tent to kill, he pointed out that Mrs. Arnold wanted the child
well educated and this Arnold was trying to do, it was only
good manners to take the child outside to beat it when there
were ladies in the room—what could be more natural?—and
then the child didn’t seem too badly off until after the
seventh session—the first six trips (which had occupied an
hour) could hardly be called unreasonable, though some of
the jurors might consider the sticks he beat her with a mite
larger than they would have chosen, but he did supple them
at the fire. Finally, let the Jury consider the child’s obstinacy,
its perverseness persisted in. |

Mr. Williams, the District Attorney, rose to his feet and
began by saying he felt somewhat indisposed. (The Red Lion
Tavern was just across the street from the courthouse and
it may have been a long dinner hour.) The whipping had
caused the child’s death, the size of the sticks proved the
malice; the prisoner, over an hour and a half, had plenty of
time for reflection. What the District Attorney found most
outrageous was the. cruel deliberateness, the cold-blooded
violence against the child.

Chict fustice Kent charged the jury, fairly and without
bias, and finally said that if there was hestitation in their
minds, then they should bring in a verdict of manslaughter.
The jury withdrew about 8:30 in the evening and two hours
later returned.

In the time-honored ritual, the prisoner was brought to
the bar, the Jury polled, and then the Clerk asked, “What
say you, gentlemen? Do you find the Prisoner at the bar
Guilty of the felony whereof he stands indicted, or Not
Guilty?”

Gideon Wood, Foreman of the Jury, answered, “We find
the Prisoner guilty of Murder.” The judge addressed the
prisoner, sentenced him to be hanged by the neck until dead
and the next day set the execution date for July 19, between
ten o'clock in the morning and three in the afternoon. It had
been an uncomplicated, expeditious trial and according to
the customs of the time a fair trial. A modern lawyer might
well ask why Gold did not present character witnesses in

[ hat happy phrase “they were made for each other”
usually suggests a pair of cozy, congenial, and highly

compatible lovers. But in my own memory book it labels two
of the most loathsome murderers I’ve ever known. I still ponder
the destiny that brought together in one small town a man and
a woman, outwardly respectable, who in private hadn’t a single
shred of human decency between them. I think of the disgusting
sexual lives their utter lack of any moral sense whatsoever allowed
them to enjoy, and of the almost casual murder they very nearly
got away with! Here indeed was a pair “made for each other” in
a most peculiar and revolting way.

Fate performed this hateful little miracle of matchmaking in
the tiny town of Baldwin, Long Island, N.Y. Mary Frances
Creighton, her husband, John, and their two children, Ruth and
Jackie, moved there a few years before the events that were to
bring me to County Court House in Mineola in January, 1936,
to cover one of the nastiest murder trials in my career.

Mrs. Creighton, in her middle thirties, tended somewhat to
overweight but was nonetheless quite a handsome woman. She
made friends in the community, was active at church and the
P-TA. If anything, she was a bit on the prim, conservative side,
disliking uncouth language, off-color stories, and alcoholic bev-
erages. Now and then she would disagree with her neighbors,
but such quarrels were soon patched up.

John Creighton, Mary’s husband, was a quiet, hard-working
little man, liked by everyone who knew him. Jackie, their son,
was a little boy of whom no one ever complained. He behaved
himself. And Ruth, their teen-age daughter, may have attracted


MURDER ONE [192

too many boys and caused some talk, but that can happen to any
pretty girl.

The Creightons appeared to be, then, a fairly typical lower-
middle-class family living a not unusual life in a not unusual
American village. But there most certainly was something un-
usual about them; something John and Mary Creighton hoped
was deeply buried in the past; something, however, some among
their neighbors knew but kept quiet about until silence was no
longer possible.

A dozen years before, while living in New Jersey, John and
Mary Frances Creighton had been tried for the murder by
arsenic poisoning of Mary’s younger brother, Raymond Charles
Avery. Although the evidence was quite suggestive, they were
acquitted. Immediately thereafter Mary alone had been tried
for the murder, also by arsenic poisoning, of her mother-in-law,
Mrs. John Creighton, Sr. Again Mary was acquitted. Not long
after, the Creightons showed up on Long Island. They occupied
a small house on a quiet street in Baldwin. Their “typical”
suburban life began.

Everett C. Appelgate, born in Brooklyn, N.Y., but living in
Baldwin, had at thirty-six become a popular figure in the county
American Legion, and very nearly its elected commander. Hard
times had cost him the radio business he had once owned. He
was now employed by the Veterans’ Employment Bureau as an
investigator at $40 a week. Everett was married and, for a while,
lived with his in-laws. He was a small, pudgy man of pleasant
disposition. His wife, Ada, weighed 220 pounds (she tipped the
scales at 200 when he married her and had been as high as 289
after that) and was reputed to have a sharp tongue. They had
an only child, a daughter, Agnes.

How Everett Appelgate first met Mary Frances Creighton is
not quite clear. In my own news story of their trial, I noted that
the district attorney said that Everett “picked her up in his car”

193 ] Poison and Pedophilia

one afternoon. But Appelgate said the two families had met at
a Legion dance years before.

But how, where, or when they met is not important. What
matters is that they did meet. For as a result of the meeting, the
Creightons and Appelgates became fast friends. And when
the Appelgates were obliged to move out of his father-in-law’s
house in November, 1934, he and Ada and Agnes moved in with
the Creightons.

The Great Depression was with us in those days and the idea
of two families sharing so small a home was not likely to startle
anyone. The house had only two bedrooms, so Ruth Creighton
and Agnes Appelgate slept in a bed in the attic, while Jackie
Creighton, the other child, had a cot on a porch. Everything very
friendly and comfortable. On the surface.

In the summer of 1935 Mary Creighton began receiving 4
series of poison-pen letters—twenty-one in all. These anonymous
missives, slipped under the front door, hinted that the Appel-
gates were no good, that unless they left the neighborhood some-
thing terrible might happen. Mary showed the letters to her
husband, hoping they would induce him to suggest that the
Appelgates leave. But he paid scant attention to them, although
he did take them down to the police station, where nothing much
happened. There were no more letters and the Appelgates stayed
on.

At about the same time, Ada Appelgate and Mary had words
over remarks Ada had made in public about Ruth and her attach-
ment for Everett—Uncle Ev—Appelgate. ‘The two ladies com-
posed their differences (Ada, as I’ve said, was known for her
sharp tongue, and a rather loose one, too) and so far as any out-
sider could see, life went on as usual in the crowded little house.
Until September 17, 1935-

On that date Ada became ill to the point of hysteria with
violent abdominal pains. The attacks continued for several days.

So ee, ST RR tem -


APPLEGATE-CREG HY

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PP 1Go— 413


POISON AND
PEDOPHILIA*

In Court
The Defendants: Mrs. Mary FRANcEs
CREIGHTON
EVERETT C. APPELGATE
For the Defense: :

(Mary F. Creighton) Exvin N. Epwarps
(Everett C. Appelgate) Cxartes O. WeEEKs

For the Prosecution: District ATroRNEY Martin |
EA
W. LitrLeron | | of
H
Presiding: Jupce Cortianp A, JoHNson i

* Pedophilia: sexual desire of an adult for a child |


Fav ad

1 Am Innocent!

(Continued from page 15)

descension, as though he were inferior.
Still I did not object. If he rates so
high with the legionnaires, I thought, he
must be all right. Besides, John would
never ask them to move out when they had
no other refuge. My hands were tied.
Maybe I was stupid, too—I will admit
it. We were so crowded that there was
no place for my baby Ruth to sleep. She
was then only fourteen, a mere slip of a
girl, and I had always thought of her as
a mere child. Surely, I decided, there
could be no harm in having her sleep in

the same double bed where Applegate slept “

with his wife! ;

This development did not come until
later, however—did not come until Apple-
gate, working outside our home with the
cunning of a fiend, had already robbed
Ruth of her innocence and_ virginity. Un-
wittingly, by letting her sleep with him
and his wife, I was giving him every op-
portunity to perpetuate his terrible sin
against my daughter.

Writing this in my cell at Sing Sing, I
sob as I put the words down on paper.
Between me and my writing desk comes
the awful image of Ruth and Applegate
—together. Ruth protesting, but still
placing child-like faith in the man her
father trusts so implicitly; Applegate
heating down her resistance first with ly-
ing phrases, and then with the brute
strength in his heavy body... .

Less poignant but none the less vivid
is the mental picture of what he did to
me. That first time when, on an autumn
evening in 1934, he drove me in his car
to a grocery store in Baldwin, and how,
on the way home, he turned into a dark,
little-frequented road and made his lewd,
animal-like advances. The time, too, when
I was ill in bed and he came to me when
no one else was in the house and over-
powered me.... A bad woman? A
woman violating her marriage vows,
flaunting the laws of God and man?

No! Instead of that, I was a woman
completely dominated by this man’s inflex-
ible will, a woman ruled by fear.

The fear he inspired in my breast, the
fear which compelled me to submit to his
every wish, was that haunting spectre of
what had happened in New Jersey long
ago. At my trial, Mr. Edwards main-
tained that the apprehension of being re-
vealed in Baldwin as a one-time murder
defendant had become an obsession with
me. That is the absolute truth. Rather
than have my children, my husband and
myself exposed to shame and ridicule, I
would do almost anything—anything but
murder !

In a manner known only to himself,
Everett Applegate learned of the prosecu-
tions against me and my husband. Living
on our bounty, eating our food and shel-
tered by our roof, he tortured me with
this dread secret.

“Better watch your step, Frances,” he
would tefl me in that chiding, guttural
voice of his. “If you don't treat me right,
I'm going to do lots of talking about what
happened in Newark.”

He must have seen the stricken, hunted
look in my eyes. He was king, ruling
with a blackmail sceptre, and I was his
terror-stricken slave.

Then came the day when I caught him
and Ruth—together. For a time I was
hysterical. I raged against him. But
when my anger had subsided to the point
where I could not help hearing what he
said, he reminded me, sarcastically but

40

INSIDE DETECTIVE -

firmly, that he held the forfeit against
my good name in Long Island, and against
the peace and security of my children.

Now I know that I should have defied
him to tell all. Even if he had shouted
his slander from the housetops, | would
not today be standing in the shadow of
the electric chair, nor would my baby
Ruth be branded as a “bad girl.”

Yet I was weak. You might call me
cowardly. Like most people, 1 chose what
seemed to be the easiest course. I tem-
porized.

The Applegates had been with us for
many months when the summer of 1935
arrived. At first the arrangement was
supposed to be temporary, but when Apple-
gate found he had a “snap” and could
dominate us completely, he was only too

_ glad to stay on permanently.

Due to the presence of our unwelcome
guests, John and I were embarrassed for
money. He was a Civil Service employe
now and was earning enough to keep his
own family, but to have the added ex-
pense of the Applegates was ruinous. This
led me to do something for which I sub-
sequently was criticised “by the young
district attorney: [I wrote to a former
newspaperman, an acquaintance, and asked
him if some magazine would buy theastory
of my persecution in Newark. The article
would be printed without the use of the
right name, so that my children. still
would he protected.

The story was never prepared or sold.
But the fact that I considered doing any-
thing like this, in spite of my fear and
obsession, proves that we were in desper-
ate straits financially.

Now we come to the actual commission
of the “crime.”

DA APPLEGATE, anxious to correct

her obesity. took some medicine in the
latter part of the summer which affected
her heart and made her so ill that she had
to go to a hospital for treatment. Return-
ing to our home, she seemed on her way
back to health. She still required nursing,
and both Applegate and I took care of
her. Part of the treatment was to give
her an egg-nog at regular intervals.

On the evening of September 26 I was
in the kitchen cooking dinner—we were
fortunate enough to have a lamb roast
that day—when Applegate came out to me
and said it was time for his wife to take
another egg-nog. I went to the ice box,
removed a bottle of milk and an egg, and
mixed a drink. Applegate added a little

whisky and sampled the drink himself.

Then he gave me a paper which con-
tained some powder.

“Shake this into it,” he said.

I thought he acted strangely. There
was a nervous quality about him, an agi-
tation seldom seen in this man who always
moved with deadly deliberation.

“Why—why—what's the matter . .
I began. : :

In a flash | remembered going into a
drug store in Baldwin a couple of weeks
before and buying something at his re-
quest. What was it? If I could only re-
member! .. . Later I did remember. This
bestial illicit lover of my child had_ or-
dered me to purchase a box of rat poison,
a vermin exterminator containing arsenic
in great quantities. The stuff had cost
twenty-three cents. Coming out of the
store, I gave him the box, and he slipped
it in his pocket. He did not tell me how
he was going to use it, and after a day
or so I forgot all about it.

But on the night of September 26, when
he asked me to put the powder into the
egg-nog, I didn't think of the arsenic.
Terrified by his sudden gesture of hate
and anger, I dumped the stuff into the
glass. Then he took the glass to his wife
in the bedroom.

A few hours later the same night, I
saw him fix another drink for her. This
time he put in the powder himself.

Next morning Ada Applegate was dead.

Ada’s passing grieved me. Though we
were not the best of friends, we had
lived in close association and always got
along amicably enough. I pitied her be-
cause she was so stout and because she
had a husband like Applegate. I thought
her death was unusually sudden, but I did
not suspect that it was in any way con-
nected with the eggenogs she drank the
night before.

The doctor came and certified that she
had died of a complication of natural
causes. A day or two later the last rites
were spoken over the body at our home.
The casket was loaded into the under-
taker’s hearse and started for the ceme-
tery... .

But it did not reach the burial ground
that day. Nassau County police had re-
ceived a tip and begun an investigation.
They had ordered the undertaker to take
the corpse to a hospital where an autopsy
was performed. Thus was Everett Apple-
gate’s “perfect crime” frustrated.

What occurred from that point for-
ward, reported in columns upon columns

?”

. ‘ 8 :
“It's the house detective, sir—he wants to know if you have a woman in bed
with you.”

gg ee

wee tf ea ln

of newspaper space, today is but a blurred
memory to me.

The authorities put us all in jail.

They even incarcerated poor, faithful
John, thereby endangering his health—
he had arrested tuberculosis. John was
held as a material witness for five months,
languishing in a jail cell simply because
he played “Good Samaritan” once too
often. Jackie and Ruth were turned over
to the Children’s Shelter.

In my nightmare of those terrible days
I have whirling visions of grim-visaged
men with angry voices, shouting questions
at me — questions, questions — hour after
hour, day after day, until I did not know
what I was doing. In the end I was glad
to agree to anything to put an end to the
inquisition. -

Applegate went through the same gril-
ling, I was told subsequently by my coun-
sel. -
The papers said we accused each other.
No doubt I did cast blame on him by
telling the truth. But how he could lie
against me in a effort to save his wretched
life, I don’t know. It seems incredible
that any man could be so base.

They claim that I confessed. -I did
nothing of the kind, but merely did what
they told me to do. I was so weary that
my brain could no longer function. They
shoved a paper in front of me, and I signed
it. Then I could be alone, then I could
sleep. ...

VEN if their methods were harsh, I
now bear no animosity toward the po-
lice, or toward the young district attorney
either. I realize that they are the duly
appointed servants of the people, and that
they had their duty to do.

My story is almost ended.

There were the weary months of wait-
ing in the Nassau County jail, the prep-
arations, the conferences with my counsel.
And then, in January of this year, the
opening of the ‘trial. The selection of
twelve men for the jury, the stream of
witnesses, the proof of Applegate’s guilt,
the effort to link me with the crime, and
finally the verdict for both of us:

Guilty of murder in the first degree!

Through it all, even to the journey up
the river to Sing Sing’s death row, I was
fortified by my husband’s unwavering
faith and by the splendid support of my
attorney, Mr. Edwards.

In the conscientious manner for which
he was noted when he served Nassau
County as district attorney, Elvin N.
Edwards threw all his energy and talent
into the fight on my behalf. My great
regret is that because of my state of
mind, I did not cooperate with him to the
fullest extent. On cross-examination by
the prosecution I was befuddled—I broke
down and in my dazed condition, my half-
hysteria, undoubtedly did much to hinder
Mr. Edwards. He dropped many affairs
in his busy practice to defend me, and I
take this opportunity to thank him whole-
heartedly. I know he will carry on the
fight until I am removed from this legal-
istic Valley of the Shadow of Death.

And so my story is told... .

From far away down the echoing Sing
Sing corridors comes the sound of tramp-
ing feet, the clanging of steel doors, the
gruff commands of the guards. As I put
down my pen the pictures of my life again
flash through my mind, beginning long ago.
.. . The ceremony in which I became John
Creighton’s bride. My baby Ruth saying
the words, “Now I lay me down to sleep.”
The face of little Jackie, gentleman Jackie.
Everett Applegate’s brutal, sensuous face
close to mine—

But that I must blot out. I must think
only of exoneration and a new life. It
never is too late to begin anew.

INSIDE DETECTIVE

Richard Loeb
Meets Justice

(Continued from page 10)

I'm almost inclined to let them go home
for the night. What do you _ think,
George?”

Like many another public official then

_ and now, he turned to Wright for advice.
George looked thoughtful and answered
slowly:

“There may not be a thing on them,
Bob—and then again there might. Should
it develop later that they did kill the boy,
how would you explain letting them walk
out of here? Why not send them to a
hotel for the night? Tomorrow is Sat-
urday; their folks undoubtedly will get
lawyers for them; some judge will issue
a writ of habeas corpus; and that takes it
out of your lap.”

The state’s attorney nodded thought-
fully. And so, while another half hour
slipped away, we three sat there and
gossiped. We were interrupted by a
knock at the door. The prosecutor called
a welcome, and Assistant State’s Attorney
Berthold A. Cronson walked in. His eyes
were fairly gleaming with excitement.

“Listen. Listen!” He shook his two
hands before him.’ “There may not be a
thing to this, but let me tell you about it.

“A squad went out tonight and brought
in Sven Englund, the Leopold family
chauffeur. He was sitting around in the
hallway out there all evening, and no one
paid any attention to him. I finally felt
sorry for him, and so I called him in_to
make him feel important before I sent
him home. And what do you think?

“He says that Nathan’s car was not out
of the family garage on the afternoon and
evening of the murder!”

State’s Attorney Crowe went rigid with

-surprise and his. shrewd eyes snapped.
“Tell me the whole thing, Bert!” he said.

Cronson related the story in full. He
had verified Englund’s statement. The
chauffeur had fixed the date of May 21
by recalling that a physician had treated
his wife that day. ,

“Sven says he went down to the garage
in the evening to get a car out for a trip
to the drug store. He now tells me he
had to move young Leopold’s car out of
the way—”

“And the boys swore to me that they
were riding around the parks in Babe’s
car,” said Mr. Crowe, his eyes set and
ard. His voice hardened. “Bert, tell
the staff not to leave. Bring that chauffeur
in here!”

The stolid Englund repeated his state-
ment once again in the private office, and
the prosecutor sent for Loeb. The youth
sauntered in, suppressing a yawn and
smiling easily. He was motioned to a
chair.

“Dick,” said State’s Attorney Crowe
affably, “just a few points to clear up.
Tell me once more the route you took to
Lincoln Park.”

And then, step by step, the prosecutor
led him over the whole story again. When
he had finished, the state’s attorney
smiled. He turned swiftly to the chauffeur.

“Tell him where Leopold’s car was,
Englund!” he snapped.

With Loeb’s wide eyes fixed on him in
a fascinated gaze, Englund again went
through the recital. Crowe, in turn, sat
staring at Loeb. He noted the tenseness
with which the young college graduate
was gripping the arms of the chair. When
the chauffeur’s voice stopped, there was a
silence. A minute passed. Then—

“Well, you smirking, sneering little
murderer!’ What do you say now?” The
question leaped like a lash to sear the
nattily clad youth. He stared at the floor.
And then he began to talk.

What happened from then on is history.
How he and Leopold had planned the
kidnaping and murder for months; how
they had assumed fictitious names and
established credit under their aliases; how
they had bought the chisel, rope and ran-
som note paper; how they had rented a
car identical except in color with that of
Leopold’s; how they had planned and re-
hearsed their perjured alibi; how they
had seized and murdered little Bobby
Franks—not that he was the definite object
of their plot, because they admitted that
any rich little boy would have suited their
purpose—was told in detail by the two
young collegians.

t all came out at the trial before Chief

Justice John R. Caverly. Leopold had
driven the car and had enticed little Bobby
into accepting a lift home. Loeb, riding
in the back seat, had struck the unsuspect-
ing schoolboy four heavy blows on the
head with the chisel and then had dragged
his inert body into the tonneau of the car.
There the unconscious youngster was
rolled in the automobile robe that caused
his death; he had suffocated in the heavy
folds.
_ Together they had disposed of the cloth-
ing, the body, and, as they thought, de-
stroyed all traces of their crime. Together
they entered pleas of guilty, together they
listened to the master defender, Clarence
Darrow, plead their feeble cause.

Why did Dickie Loeb and Babe Leopold
kidnap and murder little Bobby Franks?

The murderers gave six reasons:
The joy in planning the crime.
The thrill in committing it.

The anticipation in waiting for the
money.

The publicity.

Their own discussions with the
various persons who were interested,
with the knowledge that they pos-
sessed the key to the secret, and
none of the rest of them did.

6. Last and least, the money that was

involved.

Attorney Clarence Darrow said he did
not know why they did it; and that no
other living human being knew, either.

We whe

STATES Attorney Crowe’s answer
was that they were naturally depraved.
He cited the letter Leopold had written
Loeb, the letter that named names and
described conditions in unmistakable terms.
He dwelt on the candidness with which
Leopold had admitted, and the assurance
with which he had refused to defend, the
worst construction that could be placed
upon his phrases. In addition he introduced
into evidence the solemn “pact” by the
terms of which some manifestation of their
peculiarities was to be demonstrated each
and every time they committed a crime,
be it arson, burglary, robbery, kidnaping
or murder.

And then Clarence Darrow turned upon
the state the very weapons it had brought
to bear on the young murderers. He
pleaded their youth, described the moral
disintegration that attended their friend-
ship from its inception, admitted the truth
of every charge that State’s Attorney
Crowe based upon the letter and the “pact”
as evidence of their mental disability.

Chief Justice Caverly accepted the de-
fense theory in mitigation and sentenced
each of them to Joliet Penitentiary to
serve life for the murder and ninety-nine
years for the kidnaping.

I went down to Joliet on September
10 that year to cover the arrival of the
two youthful prodigies in what was

41


Magn ime Cd) en i

Sa ar

DIPLOMATI

HIS EXCELLENCY,
Ghaffar Khan Djalal,
Minister Plenipoten-
tiary from the Royal
Persian government to
Washington, — gallantly
handed his beautiful
English wife into his
Cadillac limousine.

With a wave of his
suede-gloved hand, His
Excellency instructed
his chauffeur to drive to
New York. The latter
ignored, as usual, all
the red lights in the
capital, sped forty miles
an hour through heavy
traffic and soon was on
national highway Num-
ber One, headed north
—and into one of the
most turbulent exposés
of the diplomatic immu-
nity racket in American
history.

Before it ended the
Great Khan was in
handcuffs, the United
States government was
ina fight with the King
of Kings, Reza Shah
Pahlavi of Persia, the
White House was an-
noyed, the Ghaffar was
recalled to the Near
East, and the American
public obtained its first inkling of the amazing manner in
which some diplomats of foreign countries choose to ignore
this country’s laws.

The whole story of diplomats in America’s capital who
can—and frequently do—violate any statutes they please,
never had been gathered until [Nsip—E Detective instructed
me to obtain the lowdown on the highups whose pleasure it is
to laugh at laws in this country.

The hero of the Great Khan affair—or the villain, depend-
ing upon how you look at it—was Constable Clayton L. Elli-
son of Elkton, Maryland, the famous Gretna Green of the
Eastern Seaboard. Constable Ellison was ably abetted by
Town Officer Jacob Biddle.

Ellison was directing traffic one Saturday afternoon in the
center of Main Street. Traffic was heavy. Elkton housewives
were doing their week-end shopping. Ellison heard the deep-
throated purr of a powerful motor approaching, then saw the
sleek nose of a sixteen-cylinder car whiz toward him at fifty-
five miles an hour.

“A crazy man!" exclaimed the constable, waving the ma-
chine to halt. It sped past him like a rocket. Ellison obtained
a fleeting glimpse of a lovely woman on the back seat, laugh-
ing at him.

He commandeered another car, gave chase, forced the
limousine to the side of the road and finally halted it.

“What’s the big idea?” demanded the arrogant chauffeur,

FURIOUS AMBASSADOR
Shown here with his English wife, Ghaffar Khan Djalal,
minister from Persia, created an international uproar fol-
lowing his arrest for speeding in Elkton, Maryland.

SCANDAL

later identified as one
Don Campbell.

“You’re under arrest
for speeding, you fool !”
snapped Ellison.

“Under arrest, hey?”
demanded Campbell.
“See that crest on the
door? That's the Royal
Persian coat-of-arms,
and inside is the Per-
sian ambassador.”

“Yeah,” sneered the
constable. “And I’m J.
Edgar Hoover.”

While this argument
was going on, the rear
door of the machine
popped open and His
Excellency, as well as
His Excellency’s wife,
stepped angrily out,
while their small white
dog jumped down and
yapped around Ellison’s
heels.

The Great Khan’s
Oriental eyes flashed
wickedly. “You—you
low, dirty—peasant !” he
exclaimed, pushing Elli-
son aside. “Now back

By John Alexander ‘ with you and let us
INSIDE DETECTIVE'S
Washington Reporter

proceed before I have
you disciplined.”

Partly in English,
partly in French and
partly in Persian, the Khan raved about the insolence of any
American policeman trying to” arrest the chauffeur of the
Imperial Envoy of the King of Kings.

“Shut up, or I'll arrest you, too,” said the constable, unim-
pressed, while the townsmen grinned and Biddle approached.

The beautiful blonde Englishwoman whom the Minister had
married in Britain a few years ago, stood by until then, biting
her lips. Now she rushed back to the car, grabbed the ivory-
headed Malacca cane which her husband had forgotten in his
haste and, using it like a polo mallet, whanged the stick down
on Officer Biddle’s head.

That was too much for Biddle, who was becoming pretty
tired of all the fuss kicked up by the foreigners.

“All right, you,” he told the Great Khan, “come down to
the station; you’re under arrest.”

Ellison nodded. The blood rushed to Djalal’s face as he
dared the officers to touch him. The constable took the dare.
He hauled out a pair of manacles and snapped them around
the angry Persian’s wrists.

Then he escorted the regal pair and the chauffeur to the
station, telling them at intervals to shut their infernal traps.
Ellison was no diplomat; only a cop who'd been dealing with
tough speeders for fifteen years.

With dismay the Great Khan learned that the town judge
was enjoying a movie in the next town. The constable said
he guessed his wise-guy prisoner (Continued on page 42)

THE LAW CAN'T TOUCH THESE MEN AND WOMEN!
ee

A Chat with
the Chief

HERE is a real satisfaction in per-

forming a public service and befriend-
ing the “underdog.” For that reason, we
take pleasure this month in throwing open
the columns of Insme Detective to Mrs.
Frances Creighton, so that for the first
time she can tell her whole story to the
world. It is a basic American ideal, stated
in the Constitution, that every person ac-
cused of a crime shall have the opportunity
to defend himself. Though Mre. Creighton
failed to convince twelve men picked as
jurors that she was innocent, she may now
be able to justify herself in the eyes of the
public at large. And it is possible that her

appeal may win a new trial, or that this

presentation of the case may come to the
attention of New York's Governor Lehman.

Maybe you will agree with Mrs.
Creighton in her conclusions. Maybe not.
At all events, we feel sure that no reader
will deny that her exclusive story is a
document of unusual human interest. If
it were simply that and nothing more, it
surely would warrant publication in IN-
swe DETECTIVE.

Elvin N. Edwards, the attorney who de-
fended Frances Creighton, deserves a word
of praise. As she herself says, he did not
stint his energies in any respect trying to
save her from the electric chair. He may
yet be successful. Mr. Edwards, long a
public servant, undertook an assignment
which a less courage-
ous counsellor would
have declined; he was
on the unpopular
side of a question
which had aroused
much controversy in
Nassau County, and
his client, because of
her state of mind,
could not give him
completé cooperation,

* + *

When we were earn-
ing our living in the
Hearst Building in
Chicago three or four
years ago, we had
the greatest admiration for Harry Read,
then city editor of the Chicago American.
He was a model newspaperman—he knew
his town and the people in it, he was able
to get facts in a hurry, he could write
and could tell his reporters how to write.
He is now city editor of the Chicago
Herald and Examiner, and we are privi-
leged to have him as a steady contributor
to Insipe Detective. For a brilliant’ an-
alysis of a unique crime and its aftermath,
turn to Mr. Read’s story on Loeb and
Leopold, page 6, this issue.

. * * *

Insipe Detective's blast against Haupt-
mann, appearing under the name of
Dorothy Kilgallen in the March issue,
has provoked a storm of controversy. Wal-
ter Winchell devoted several paragraphs
to it in his widely circulated column, up-
holding her views that the kidnaper-killer
deserved no more mercy than he showed
the baby Lindbergh. Some readers have
written the editor, taking the other side.
Perhaps as long as crime is a problem in
our civilization, the Lindbergh case will
be the subject of debate. But one thing
we want to make clear—there should be
no nationalistic basis for such argument.
True, Hauptmann is a German, but he
might as well have been an Englishman,
an Italian, a Russian, an Oriental, a Negro,

Harry Reap

INSIDE DETECTIVE

or what have you. Latins felt abused
when Capone was brought to justice.
Germans feel that the Hauptmann prosecu-
tion somehow has cast a reflection upon
them. Of course this is not true. When
you attack Hauptmann you do not attack
the German people, but an individual.
-_* *

In closing we recommend these features
which are but a few among the outstand-
ing true stories scheduled to appear in
early issues of INstpE DETECTIVE:

“I Trapped My Sister’s Slayer,” a story
of vengeance wreaked on a Wisconsin poi-
soner; “The Puppy-Love Murder Mys-
tery,” an amazing enigma of the South-
west; “The Puzzle of the Mail Order
Bride”; a Washington detective yarn;
“My Life in the Underworld,” the remark-
able confession of a reformed gangster

. and many others.

Tue Epiror

“Modern Borgia”

(Continued from page 17)

~

years old at the time. Mr. Applegate
would kiss her passionately in my pres-
ence and although it revolted me I did
not dare interfere.

“When Mrs. Applegate got sick I was
suspicious of something, but I did not
dare venture my _ suspicions. I asked
Applegate if gall trouble could produce
such terrible vomiting. He replied it
might be ptomaine poisoning.

“T said, ‘Is that the only kind of poison-
ing it could be?’ and he replied, ‘It can't
be arsenic—Ada complains of no pain and
arsenic produces pain.’ Up to the time
Ada went to the hospital I gave her noth-
ing that could hurt her.

“On Wednesday when she came home
from the hospital, at about 5:30, when I
was preparing supper, Mr. Applegate
came into the kitchen and said, ‘Are you
preparing supper?’ Ada at this time was
in bed. I said, ‘Yes.’

“He gave me a white powder and said,
‘Put this in the milk and give it to Ada.’
I was ina panic and said ‘Why?’ He
said, ‘Do as you are told. Keep your
mouth shut. Not a word to John. I
have got to go through with this.’”

At that time, Mrs. Creighton insisted,
she never thought of the round red box
of rat poison which she had purchased
for her casual paramour a couple of
weeks before.

“A short time later,” Mrs. Creighton
continued, “Ada’s daughter Agnes brought
the tray back to the kitchen. The food
was untouched, but the glass of milk was
empty.”

Then she described watching Applegate
serve the final fatal dose to his wife:

“The next day I saw Applegate prepare
an egg-nog in the kitchen and put a simi-
lar white powder in it, and he said, ‘This
will make her sleep.’

“He took the powder from a lower vest
pocket of a brown checked vest he was
wearing at the time, and he took the egg-
nog into Ada’s room and I saw him feed
it to™her. He was holding one of his
hands to her back and the glass to her
mouth. She drank about three-quarters
of the contents. The remainder was
thrown out.” :

That_was enough for Inspector King.
Mrs. Creighton was arrested and sub-
jected to even more minute grilling. She
confessed twice after that, changing her
story but always—under skilful question-
ing—winding the net irrevocably about
herself.

The most shameful and incredible part
of her statements to the authorities was
the revelation that she had been cognizant
of her daughter’s illicit romance with
Applegate.

“In June, 1935, I was told for the first
time by Applegate that he had been inti-
mate with my daughter Ruth,” she told
detectives. “He said that he was tired
of his wife and that Ruth was ‘a darned
good-looking kid’ amd that eventually he
would have her to himself.”

Applegate was, he admitted, madly in
love with the blue-eyed provocative school-
girl. She was oddly enamoured of him—
oddly, because he is anything but a pic-
ture-book idea of a romantic swain. He
wanted her. He didn’t want his fat, gar-
tulous wife of fifteen years; sleepy Ada,
heavy with disenchantment, a clod against
the moon-like loveliness of Ruth.

So he got rid of his wife. It was quite
simple. It took only a few pinches of
rat poison. And he thought that with
her death the fifteen-year-old daughter of
his friend would be his without fear of
complication.

“I became very fond of Ruth,” the thick-
lipped Legionnaire admitted to Inspector
King when he, too, finally made a state-
ment. “I cared very much for her and

_ desired her. I knew she was only fifteen,

but she was a willing party to our love
affair. Several times she told me she
loved me very much.”

The little girl corroborated his version
of the seduction when detectives question-
ed her. Oddly grown up for all her long
curls and innocent manner, she explained:

“I fell in love with Appy the first time
he kissed me. It was at a dance at our
high school. He was working the spot-
lights when I came into the projection
booth. He grabbed me and held me very
tight and kissed me. He said, ‘Gosh
you're a pretty kid.” It was dark and I
felt thrilled. 1 never felt that way before.
That was the first time I was a bad girl.
After that I always wanted to be with
Appy. I was jealous when he was with
his wife or any other woman.”

With Ruthie’s statement the police felt
the jig-saw puzzle of Ada Applegate’s
murder was pieced together.

Applegate actually never made a full
confession, but with Mrs. Creighton’s
three declarations, none was needed from
him.

At their trial he stubbornly maintained
his innocence—but he maintained it too
well. He was too cocksure, too full of
smiles, too glib with his explanations.

Mrs. Creighton was as pliable as he
was dogged. For half an hour she with-
stood the cross-examination of Littleton,
then her defense collapsed and she made
a fourth confession in court. Utterly
confused, bitterly worn and tired, she ad-
mitted everything. Possibly she even said
things she did not mean. When her testi-
mony was over, the brilliant arguments
and powerful oratory of her attorney,
Elvin N. Edwards, could not save her.

When the jurors heard the impassioned
address of District Attorney Littleton,
they seemed to nod their heads in agree-
ment with him. The fiery, young prose-
cutor—and, in fact, the majority of Nas-
sau County residents—were by this time
calling Frances Creighton a “modern
Borgia.” Those who were to decide her
fate were, perhaps, calling her that, too,
in their secret thoughts.

And so the verdict of “guilty” was re-
turned after brief deliberation by a jury
comprised entirely of men.

{rs. Frances Creighton—guilty!

Also: Everctt Applegate—guilty!

The doomed man and woman then went
their separate ways up to the death house
at Sing Sing, both protesting:

“T am innocent!”

39

INSIDE DETECTIVE

science, had there been the slightest possible justification for
my prosecution, I would have broken. But I was fortified
by my faith in the Almighty, the constant support of my
husband, and by my own shining knowledge that I was
innocent.

In those Newark trials more than twelve years ago, I
was as innocent as I was of the poisoning of Ada Apple-
gate. The courts proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Think you, then, that because I was freed, because I was
exonerated, I could joyfully resume my quiet housewifely
existence?

A thousand times no! Once a woman has been tried for
murder, the community is set against her. Though her
innocence be cried to high heaven, neighbors and kinfolk
whisper maliciously behind her back: She is pointed out
to strangers in public places. People turn and stare at her
in the street. She is a woman forever and inexorably marked.
The justice of the law is countermanded by the terrible in-
justice of gossip mongers and human vultures eager to feed
on scandal.

Remember, John and I had two babies, Ruth and Jackie.
How could they ever be brought up in this dark miasma of
unwarranted suspicion, slander and persecution? For their
sakes as well as our own we decided to get away from
Newark and make a fresh start in some community where

BROKEN FAMILY

Frances Creighton is escorted by

detective (right) and her husband

and son, John, both of whom tes-

tified that she was a dutiful wife
and loving mother.

our tragic history would not be the sport of idle talk.

We moved to Baldwin, Long Island.

Baldwin is a pretty village, the home of many commuters
who work in New York City. It is situated in Nassau
~ County and is thirty or forty minutes from Manhattan by
train. Because of its good schools and its freedom from
harmful big city influences, we thought it would be an ideal
town in which to raise our children. We took a small
bungalow at No. 12 Bryant Place. It was humble, that little
home, but to us it seemed like a glorious refuge where we
could regain the peace we had once enjoyed. John. found
work in Nassau County. He never was a prosperous busi-
ness man—I often said he was too kind-hearted to “get
ahead”—but we always had enough money to pay our bills
and give Ruth and Jackie the best of everything.

Those children became something more than son and
daughter; they were personalities who might succeed where
we had somehow failed, who might go through life untainted

14

COUNTY OFFICIALS

Assistant District Attorney Al-
bert De Meo, District Attorney
Littleton, and Inspector King
(left to right) pushed the case
to a double death verdict.

by the foul slander that had blighted our own lives

Later, at the trial in Mineola, I was termed a “bad wo-
man” and a “bad mother.” Bad? Maybe you believe that
if you read the sensational, distorted newspaper accounts.
Bad? To call me that is the cruclest lie of all. If all the
efforts of my counsel come to naught, and if some night I
am led through the little door of the death chamber, I will
go to my Maker knowing in my heart that I was not bad,
but a woman who always tried earnestly to do what she
considered right.

Of course [ made mistakes—who hasn’t? But I’ve never
been bad.

During all of our married life there never was any trouble
between John and me. If I had been “bad” wouldn’t he
have at least reprimanded me? Wouldn’t he have gone
further than that and sued me for divorce? But he did none
of these things, for the simple reason that I was not once,
of my own volition, unfaithful to him.

The icy grasp of horror and revulsion closed about my
heart in that Mineola courtroom when I heard the State
witnesses and the youthful district attorney insinuate that
I was not a fit person to rear my son and daughter. I cared
more for those children than my own life—even more for
them than for John, if that is possible. My every waking mo-
ment was devoted to the welfare of my two children.

SHOCKED JURORS

Here are some of the jurors who
were stunned by fifteen-year-old
Ruth Creighton’s admission of
intimacies with Applegate which
continued over a year.

Jackie and Ruth went to Sunday School; I saw to that.
Every night when they went to bed, they repeated the
prayer, Now I lay me down to sleep, and when they were
older they said the Lord’s Prayer. I sent them to the public
schools and helped them with their lessons. I did everything
within my power to build character and awaken conscience.

When Jackie took the witness stand at Mineola—yes,
they forced that twelve-year-old boy of mine to bare his
soul before the multitude—he gave proof of his upbringing
by his gentlemanly demeanor, his politeness, his alertness
and intelligence. Even the lurid tabloid press commented
on what a fine lad he was.

I was proud of him that day, even while I suffered to
think of him going through such an ordeal. I wondered
how anyone could call me bad when this son of mine, my
own issue, was obviously a perfect little gentleman. If any
witness cast the “bad woman” and “bad mother” lie back into
the face of the prosecutor, it was my son.

Jabal

4 x abi eb aa

‘INSIDE DETECTIVE

Ruth took the witness stand, too—pretty, smiling-eved
Ruth, my first born. And her ordeal was ten times as severe
as that inflicted upon Jackie.

I will admit frankly that my baby Ruth had been seduced
into intimate relations with Everett Applegate, and because
of that I suppose the world, unthinking, would brand her
“bad.” How did I permit these relations to start? Why
did I not prevent this awful intimacy between my daughter
and the hulking blond beast old enough to be her father?
The answer simply is this:

I trusted Ruth.

If you who read this have children of your own, ask
yourselves how much you know about those children. Do
you know the perils to which they are exposed? Do you
know everything that happens to them, the associations into
which they are inadvertently thrown, when they are out of
your sight?

This may sound cruel—but how do you know that your
‘teen-age daughter has not been seduced when, ignorant of
sex, she has received the flattering and seductive attentions
of a man whom she has been taught to respect? Especially
when that man is a past master in the art of satisfying his
brutish lust, one with a strong will who brooks no opposition
when it comes to satisfying his desires?

I trusted Ruth. and with every reason in the world. She

PERFECT HUSBAND

John Creighton, pictured with
the narrator of this exclusive
story firmly defends his wife.
He believes Applegate preyed
on her through blackmail,

courtroom

\

had always been truthful with me. She never even resorted
to the “little white lies” children frequently tell to conceal
petty misdemeanors. Her work in school was above criticism.
She appeared to be devoutly interested in her Sunday School
lessons. Ruth tell me a lie about anything that vitally
affected her? It was unthinkable!

Bear in mind that I was, and am, simply a mother—
not a child psychologist. My husband trusted her just as I
did, and he will gladly vouch for this.

In connection with my upbringing of the children I have
heen criticized for telling them they were born at Virginia
Beach, Virginia, instead of in Newark. Sarely this was
justifiable. | wanted to shield them from the knowledge that
the names of their mother and father were once drawn into
the investigation of a death occurring “under mysterious
circumstances.”

The Newark affair hung over my head like a Damoclean
sword; but as the years wore on and my neighbors in Baldwin

THRILL SEEKERS

A few of the people who fought
to get into the Nassau County
to hear the most
sensational narrative of poison-
ing and seduction ever told.

continued to regard me as a housewife with nothing unusual
in her past, I began to breathé a little easier. At last, I felt,
perhaps John and I had passed beyond the pall of that
harrowing experience.

Nevertheless, the fear of “exposure” always was present,
if not in my conscious thoughts, then hovering close to the
surface of my subconscious mind. Try as I would to re-
assure myself, I was terrified by the prospect that some day
an evil-minded creature might learn that I had been tried
for murder, and to achieve some foul purpose might threaten
me with his knowledge. It would, I knew, be an effective
weapon for blackmail.

Y WORST fears were realized when Everett Apple-
gate entered our lives.

I did not like the man when I first met him. I never
liked him at any time thereafter. There was something
about his coarse features, his heavy-lidded eyes and thick
lips, that made me shiver. Today the very thought of him
fills me with loathing.

But for John’s sake I believed that I had to tolerate him,
even be nice to him. Applegate was rated as a “big shot” in
the local post of the American Legion. (This point in itself
is significant. If he could fool all the respectable members
of the Legion as to his true character, isn’t it likely that he
could easily pull the wool over
my eyes?) John also belonged
to the Legion. We met Apple-
gate and his wife at Legion
social functions, and when Ap-
plegate was Vice-Commander
of the post, he appointed John
as Adjutant.

My husband deeply appre-
ciated this favor. He looked up
to Applegate, admired him.
Being of a guileless, harmless
nature himself, he did not sus-
pect the blackness of the heart
in the beast of the man who
called him “friend.”

Another thing about John:
Though we never had much of
this world’s goods—surely no
more than we ourselves needed
—he was repeatedly touched by
the plight of others. So that he
would loan or give people
money, or would bring them
into our home to live with us
until they “got on their feet”
again. Many times I knew John
was being played for an “easy
mark,” but he was so gentle, so
genuinely charitable, that I
could not reproach him,

When Everett Applegate fell upon hard times and was
forced to move out of his house, it was almost inevitable
that he, his tremendously fat wife, Ada, and their young
daughter come to live with us. My husband insisted on it.
I did not strenuously object, because I also was happy to
aid anyone in distress.

That move of the Applegates was the worst mistake John
and I ever made. It spelled death by rat poison for Mrs.
Applegate, and it brought new and even greater persecution
for me and my family.

From the very outset, Everett Applegate acted as though
he owned our little bungalow. He was loud-mouthed, swag-
gering, boorish, arrogant. He made remarks about me and
Ruth which sounded offensive, though at that time I did
not know their full portent. He joked about the fact that
we were “packed together like sardines’—when he knew
that he himself was responsible for the crowded condition.
He treated John almost with con- (Contd on page 40)

15

eee

—

THEY CALLED.

ODERN

SHIE came into the store just at twilight, wearing
a wide-brimmed white hat, looking very cool. She
had a pale skin and feverish bright black eyes and
a thin crimson mouth.

The clerk behind the counter wondered, as he
always did, what this one wanted: a lipstick?
powder? aspirin? peroxide? hairpins? toothpaste ¢

She had a slip of paper in her hand and she unfolded it
and looked at it. “J want a twenty-three cent box of rat poi-
son,” she said directly.

While the druggist was finding it she went on talking very
fast. “We live down by the water and the place is alive
with rats. I can't stand it any longer. I simply have to get
rid of them.”

When he took down the rat poison the clerk noticed his
stock was low. Only two red boxes—red for warning—
stood on the shelf. He wrapped up a box for the lady in
white, and that left one.

(Two weeks later the police bought that one, and Frances
Creighton looked at it in Mineola. Long Island, police head-
quarters, and said, “Yes, that was the kind | bought. Everett
Applegate told me to.” )

“Anything else?” asked the clerk.

“That's all.’ said Frances Creighton,

She put two dimes and three pennies on the counter, picked
up the red box, and went out.

In an automobile at the curb waited swaggering Everett C.
Applegate, her lover and the seducer of her child. “Did you
get it?” he demanded.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Creighton.

She handed him the package. Then she climbed into the car
and they drove off together... This was some time near the
middle of September. They drove to a small green stucco
cottage at No. 12 Bryant Place. Baldwin. And went in... -

Later in September—about two weeks later—there was a
funeral at No, 12 Bryant Place. The deceased was Ada A pple-
gate, wife of Everett Applegate, friend and co-housewifc of
Mary Frances Creighton.

What happened between the purchase of the rat poison
and the death of Ada Applegate was for a while a mystery;
but draw back the curtains of the little cottage and you see
Everett Applegate and Mary Frances Creighton, lethal bar-
tenders, mixing egg-nogs in the kitchen, Applegate stirring
into them always a grayish white powder out of the round red
box, feeding the drink to his unsuspecting wife.

He gave her the first dose almost immediately after he had
Mrs. Creighton buy the poison, the police afterward learned.
He gave it to her in coffee, in chicken soup, in tea, and in milk
flips. The corpulent, unattractive wife became violently ill.

On September 20. Applegate called Dr. Alexander Zabin,
the family physician, to look at the ailing woman. He diag-
nosed her illness as resulting from a gall bladder condition.
Dr. Zabin never thought of looking for arsenic symptoms. THe

1

didn't know of the round red box of rat poison that Applegate
had commissioned Mrs. Creighton to buy.

Ada Applegate went to the South Nassau Community Hos-
pital the next day, September 21. Miraculously, all her symp-
toms vanished—the nausea and the stomach pains and the in-
ability to retain food. Within a short time she was put on the
regular hospital diet, and on Wednesday, September 25, Dr.
Zabin told her she could go home.

She went home with some reluctance, as though Fate had
whispered in her ear-and she knew that sooner or later death
would be waiting for her at the bottom of a milk flip.

Her husband and Mrs. Creighton came to the hospital on
Wednesday afterrtoon to call for her.

“You're bringing me home to die,” she said sadly.

She didn’t know how right she was.

Wednesday night she got an egg-nog.

Thursday night she got an egg-nog, fed patiently to her
by her husband when she was in an almost comatose state.

Friday morning she lay stiff and cold, ready for her burial.

Dr. Zabin, frankly embarrassed at his incorrect diagnosis,
hastily signed the death certificate giving Ada Applegate’s
cause of death in a few Latin words which could be interpreted
to mean that she died of heart disease combined with gall
bladder trouble. Preparations for the funeral proceeded
smoothly. 4

Then District Attorney Martin W. Littleton of Nassau
County received an anonymous communication.

“Mrs. Ada Applegate, No. 12 Bryant Place, is dead,” the
letter read. “She didn’t die of a heart attack, as the doctor
said. She was poisoned and you won't have to look very far
for the poisoner.” :

The prosecutor might have dismissed a single note as the
work of a crank. But a ‘telephone call came, obviously from
a person other than the note writer, and this was followed by
a tip from a uniformed policeman who lived in the neighbor-
hood of No. 12 Bryant Place. Littleton summoned Inspector
Harold R. King.

“Look into this,” he told the detective. ‘‘I have a feeling
there may be something to it.”

King went quietly over to the funeral services for Ada Ap-
plegate. The mourning husband was there, with his only
daughter, Agnes, twelve, and so were the other members of
the strange household, Mr. and Mrs. John Creighton and
their two children, Ruth, fifteen, and Jackie, twelve. On the
surface, it was just another funeral service. But some instinct
—the same instinct that had warned Littleton—told King
that under the surface smoothness ran a trail of crime. At
the end of the rites, he halted the undertaker.

“Don't bury the body,” he ordered jn an undertone. “Send
it to the morgue. We are going to perform an autopsy.”

When this was done, Applegate protested indignantly. Lit-
tleton, suavely interrogating the husband, asked his permis-
sion to perform the autopsy. Applegate loudly refused. “The

’

A BRILLIANT WRITER ANALYZES THE POISON

BY DOROTHY KILGALLEN
(Author of "'Guilty As Hell'')

poor girl is dead, let her rest in peace,” he said. “There is no
reason to suspect foul play.”

At length the district attorney maneuvered him into a
position where he either had to consent to the post mortem or
display consciousness of guilt, and he said he would allow it.

Dr. Carl A. Hettesheimer, who performed the autopsy, re-

ported to the police that the cause of death was not gall trou-

ble, not heart disease, but acute nephritis.

What had caused the acute nephritis ?

The vital organs were rushed by motorcycle to the noted
New York toxicologist, Dr. Alexander O. Gettler. He spent
hours in his laboratory, testing for every possible poison. And
he found that Ada Applegate’s huge body contained more
than eleven grains of arsenic—three times and over the ordi-
nary lethal dose!

HAT ended the mystery. It was then only a question of

wresting a confession from one of the six possible persons
who had access to Ada Applegate and might have slipped her
the poison. Three of these were children—her own daughter
Agnes and the two Creighton children, Ruth and Jackie. The
other three were John and Mary Creighton, her friends, and
Everett Applegate, her husband.

The children were immediately ruled out. Questioning re-
vealed that John Creighton had not been inside the sick room
and had never prepared her food. That left Everett C. Apple-
gate and Frances Creighton.

Applegate, the Legionnaire, thick-lipped, bullet-headed.
brash, arrogant, was the first grilled by King and his men.
He denied any relations with Mrs. Creighton. Then he broke
down and admitted he had seduced her daughter, pretty fifteen-
year-old Ruthie.

ENIGMA

“It is true I was Ruthie’s lover, but that doesn’t mean I
killed my wife,” Applegate protested. “My wife knew of our
intimacy.”

He revealed the most shameful details of his affair with the
blue-eyed schoolgirl, but doggedly he refused to implicate him-
self in the murder.

Inspector King turned his questioning to white-faced Mrs.
Creighton. For hours upon hours he flayed her with queries,
confusing her, tripping her up, accusing her, flattering her,
cajoling her. He confronted her with a fact out of her past
which the police learned after her arrest.

: “Weren't you tried twice for murder in 1923?” he asked
er.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I was. But both times I was ac-
quitted.”

She referred to the trials in Newark, in 1923, when she was
accused first of the murder of her young brother, Raymond
Charles Avery, then of the murder of her mother-in-law, Mrs.
John Creighton, Sr. Both times she was freed.

“Those were arsenic murders, weren't they?” King de-
manded.

“I believe they were,” Mrs. Creighton admitted.

The police knew they were. They had the record of her
previous trials. :

Finally, at 5:30 on the morning of October 8, Mrs. Creigh-
ton made a confession to Inspector King in which she threw
the blame on Applegate.

“Mr. Applegate blamed his wife for his defeat in the elec-
tion for County Commander of the Legion,” she told the de-
tective. “He told me he was going to get rid of her.

“During this time he was having intimate relations with
my daughter Ruth. She was fifteen (Continued on page 39)

THAT CONDEMNS TWO TO THE CHAIR!
17


|

mnor of
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a cop
He had
he other
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was al-
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urns up,

ptember
Connor’s
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2

‘atrolman
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A
NEW YORK
srime Classic

“How come,” Patrolman O’Connor
wanted to know, “you happened to get
hold of these photostats?”

The woman said that she had had
a bitter quarrel with Mrs. Creighton
some months previously. Afterward,
Mrs. Creighton had offered the olive
branch and, by way of celebrating
the renewal of the friendship, ha
baked a cake for her. The recipient
of the cake had become violently ill,
and accused Mrs. Creighton of trying
to poison her. Mrs. Creighton—a
handsome, big woman, half Spanish—
had laughed scornfully and said, “I
was accused of the same thing in New
Jersey in nineteen twenty-three but
they couldn’t prove it!” ‘

Thus the neighbor had gone to the
New York Public Library, looked up
back numbers of the Daily News, and
had the photostats made. “I never did
i about my information till

some day.
“What makes you think there’s
something queer about this Mrs. Ap-
pelgate’s death?” asked the cop.
“J just think there is, that’s all.”

N hour later, Patrolman O’Connor
A laid the photostats on the desk of
Harold R. King, chief of the detec-
tive division of the Nassau County
Police Department. King, a smart,
middle-aged cop, had built up a wide
acquaintanceship over the years. He
knew the Appelgates, and he knew
who Mrs. Creighton was, though he
had not known she had once been tried
for murder. She worked as a clerk in
the County Engineer’s Office right in
the Nassau County Court House in
Mineola, and King had seen her a
be. of times.
ing knew Everett Appelgate, the
husband of the dead woman, because
Appelgate, a war veteran, was proml-
nent in Nassau County American
Legion circles and was employed in
an adininistrative capacity by. the
Nassau County Veterans’ Bureau. He
was a,quick, undersized man of about
oe who liked his liquor and, from all
in
He had, the previous month, run for
the office of County Commander of
the Legion and been the loser in a
close election.

King gave Appelgate a ring and
asked him if he could stop over, quick
on the q. t. This was about 6 o’clock
on Saturday ogy Mrs. Appel-
gate was laid out in her coffin, in the
living room of the little stucco. bunga-
ow, and her funeral was scheduled
for the Monday morning.

Appelgate looked like he had been
‘Brow the wringer when he walked
into ing’s office about 7 o'clock.
King wanted to know if Appelgate
knew the Creightons had once been
tried for murder.

rn Pig knew all about the
Creightons. They had, he said, ex-
plained to him and his wife about
the unfortunate New Jersey business
when the two families had ‘decided to
share the little bungalow to cut ex-
penses a year previously. “Frances—
that’s Mrs. Creighton—told me_ her
brother committed suicide Ay pag
arsenic,” te ay said to King. |

Mrs. Appelgate, her husband said,
had been ill of gall bladder trouble
for a year, and had died of complica-
tions. Everything Appelgate said made
sense. A good cop is suspicious at
the right time, however, and King,
though he had little to go on, was
suspicious.

had heard, also liked the ladies.

with these

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When Appelgate left, King put
through a call for the physician who
had attended Mrs. Appelgate—Dr.
Alexander Zabin of Malverne. He
wanted to know ‘if it was ‘possible
that Mrs. Appelgate could have died
from. arsenic ge

Indeed it was possible, said the doc-
tor. As a matter of fact, he had been
very curious, if not suspicious, about
Mrs. Appelgate’s death. He had been
treating her for one thing—gall blad-
der trouble and nausea—and she had
died of something else—a coronary
arterial occlusion, or blood clotting
of a vital artery leading to the heart.
Dr. Zabin had been so puzzled by the
blood clotting, which could have been
caused by arsenic, that he had been
inclined to make an autopsy. Appel-
gate and lar ogy however, had in-
sisted upon the issuance of a death
certificate.

HOUGH it was a Saturday night,

King knew that his boss—District

Attorney Martin W. Littleton—was
in his office. When King filled the
D. A. in on the known details of Mrs.
Appelgate’s death, Littleton—a tall,
slim, prematurely-gray fashion plate
—heard a bell ring in his mind. He
buzzed for a folder, which he ex-
amined, then shoved across the desk
to King. “This Everett a was
in here about three months ago,” said
Littleton. “An anonymous letter was

received by Mrs. Creighton, involving |

Appelgate. We never did find out who
wrote it or why.”

The letter was written on —
lined yellow tablet paper, in pencil,
and read as follows .

Why do you live with that Ap-
nelgate couple? The woman’s
mouth is too big. She tells every-
thing that goes on in the house-
hold. The man is no good either.

'. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Why don’t you get wise and. split
up from them?
é A Friend

The D. A. made a phone call to
Newark. He learned that Mrs. Creigh-
ton had been accused of not one but
two arsenic deaths. Some time after
she and her husband had been ac-
ew. of the charge of murdering

€ woman’s brother, Mrs. Creighton
alone had been ‘indicted and tried for
the murder of her mother-in-law—

_Mrs. Walter Creighton. The old lady,

it seemed, had been insured by Mrs.
Creighton, and had somehow con-
sumed small but steady’ doses of
he shortly thereafter, and finally

ied. .

Littleton was anxious to lay eyes
on Mrs. Creighton. He instructed King
to bring the Creightons and Appel-

ate to his office. Time had worn on.
t was after 11 o’clock by the time
the three occupants of the little bunga-
low in Baldwin arrived.

HE first thing that struck both Lit-

tleton and King about Mrs. Creigh-

ton was her eyes. They were large,
dark brown and had an evil, hynotic
quality about them. The woman was
overweight, but somehow attractive
nonetheless. '

John Creighton, her husband, was
a tall, good-looking man with thinning
hair and a small mustache. He was a
dapper individual, obviously quite in
love with the woman he had married,
which perhaps explained why he had
stuck by her after she had been ac-
cused of having poisoned his, mother.

There were, it developed, only two
small bedrooms in the Baldwin bunga-

Ethel Wooding of Winthrop, Mass,, walked into a Pittsburgh police station
and reportedly told police that she killed her sweetheart, Gilbert Taylor.

low—one occupied by the Creightons
and one occupied by the Appelgates.
Ruth Creighton, the 15-year-old
daughter of the Creightons, slept with
a 13-year-old ‘daughter of the Appel-
gates in a small room in the attic, and
a second Creighton child—a_ seven-
year-old boy—had a bed on a porch
in the rear. Littleton, commenting
on the fact that the bungalow. was
certainly taxed to capacity when it
slept seven occupants, happened to ask
if either the Creightons or the Appel-
gates had ever had overnight guests.

“Frequently,” said Creighton, and
his wife glowered at him.

It developed that during scrambled,
doubling-up ‘sleeping arrangements
when there had been orenips guests,
Everett sepiene and 15-year-old
Ruth Creighton had sometimes oc-
cupied the same room. Littleton and
King wondered if they hadn’t struck
upon a sordid clue. -

Littleton ordered an immediate au-

topsy. It would take several days for
a complete chemical analysis of Mrs.
Appelgate’s vital organs, but by 4
in the morning, while he was still sit-
ting around with King and the three
people from Baldwin, he received a
call from the autopsy .room of
Meadowbrook Hospital. The kidneys
of Mrs. Appelgate were very swollen
and the liver badly inflamed, condi-
tions that usually followed the slow
and methodical administration of
arsenic.

DRIZZLE began to fall at 5 a.m.
A Everybody was sleepy. Littleton,

however, knew that time was of the
essence. He was awaiting the arrival
of a man he had gotten out of bed—
Dr. Richard Hoffman, a New York
psychiatrist. When Dr. Hoffman ar-
rived, he questioned Ruth Creighton.
The young lady admitted that she had
been betrayed by Appelgate some time
previously.

Inspector
Bible of Ri
a strip of y
been used

uick to r
the same t
anonymous
Creighton }
demning t)}
as a clue,
he obtained
ton’s handy
that the ha
with positi:
ties—was
anonymous

Mrs. Cr
written the
done so be:
she showed
take a hint
to get rid
man had
poison trial
afraid to a.
that if she ;
with him, |
to her chil

Upon re
letter, App
embarrassec
assumed the
gone to the
demanded ti

The ques
went on al
finally admi
confided in |
trayed by A
she had fea
ae

pelga
fearel that

_ her past.

It was lig
men went |
Mrs. Creight
sleep. At t!
leased Cre:
cently mixed
—but detain:
few questior

Ruth, App

admitted th:
the ceiling :
that Mrs...
author of th«

UT where
dead won
picture?

dered, who
why? j
Some of K
spread out f:
examine pois
Others were
bits of gossi;
the little ov
Baldwin. A
neighbor to
had started
Another piec
clude it.

Sunday, M:

nesday passe
definitely in i
store poison t
report on M
gans was no:
and in fictior
ties get repo
in actuality i:
Medicine bot
room in the

clue.

On Thursd

Appelgate ha
came across 2

- Appelgate tl

triguing. It

'


epetoe »
ead

-e station
t Taylor.

i days for
is of Mrs.
out by. 4
s still sit-
the three

eceived a .

room of
e kidneys
y swollen
‘d, condi-
the slow
ation of

at 5 A.M.
Littleton,
was of the
1e arrival
of bed—
‘few York
fman ar-
Sreighton.
it she had
some time

.
eis Si

Inspector King, while examining a
Bible of Ruth Creighton’s came upon
a strip of yellow ruled paper that had
been used as a marker. King was
bcp to notice that the paper was

e same type as that on which the
anonymous communicant with Mrs.
Creighton had written the letter con-
demning the Appelgates. With that
as a clue, King looked around until
he obtained a Specimen of Mrs. Creigh-
ton’s handwriting. He saw at a glance
that the handwriting—distinctive and
with positive, almost masculine quali-
ties—was the sanfe as that on the
anonymous letter.

Mrs. Creighton admitted having
written the letter to herself. She had
done so because she had hoped that if
she showed it to Appelgate, he would
take a hint and move. She had wanted
to get rid of Appelgate because the
man had somehow learned of her
poison trial in Newark. She had been
afraid to ask him to move, thinking
that if she Pg an open break
with him, he would expose her past
to her children.

Upon receipt . of the anonymous
letter, Appelgate, instead of bein
embarrassed and getting out, ha
assumed the role of outraged taxpayer,
gone to the D. A. with the letter, and
demanded that its author be run down.

The questioning in the bungalow
went on all night. - Mrs. Creighton
finally admitted that her daughter had
confided in her that she had. been be-
trayed by Appelgate. The woman said
she had feared to take action in the
situation for:fear her husband would
kill Appelgate. Then, too, she had still
feared that Appelgate would expose
her past.

It was light outside now, and the
men went back to Mineola, leaving

Mrs. Creighton and Ruth to get some.

sleep. At the Court House they re-
leased Creighton—seemingly inno-
cently mixed up in the whole business

—but detained Appelgate to ask him a |

few questions.

Ruth, Appelgate was told, had in-
criminated him as a betrayer. He
admitted the charge. He almost hit
the ceiling when Littleton told him
that Mrs. Creighton had been the
author of the anonymous letter.

UT where had Ada Ap paleste, the
dead woman, entered the complex
picture? If she had been mur-

dered, who had murdered .her—and
why?

Some of King’s detectives began to
spread out fanwise from. Baldwin to
examine poison books in drug stores.
Others were told to concentrate on
bits of agg about the occupants of
the little overcrowded bungalow in
Baldwin. A Bg oo: of gossip by a
neighbor to bakery-truck driver
had started the whole investigation.
Another piece of gossip might con-
clude it.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wed-
nesday passed. Mrs. Creighton was
definitely in the clear, so far as drug-
store poison books went. The chemical
report on Mrs. Appelgate’s vital or-
gans was not in yet. In the movies
and in fiction whodunits the authori-
ties get reports like that right away;
in actuality it is a good deal different.
Medicine bottles from the one bath-
pon in the bungalow yielded up no
clue

On Thursday, six days after Mrs.
Appelgate had died, one of King’s men
came across a bit of information about
Appelgate that sounded quite in-
triguing. It seems that Mrs. Appel-

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"HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED?”

43

=

a wel


ate had learned that her husband

d- betrayed Ruth Creighton. She
had talked of the betrayal at length
to a woman friend in Baldwin. For
some reason best known to herself
Ada Appelgate never took any active

_steps to end her association with the

Creightons after learning about her
husband and Ruth Creighton.

’ It was Saturday, October 5—a week
since the probe had gotten under way.
King.and Littleton were about to call
Appelgate‘and the Creightons over for
another ‘long- session. of questioning
when: the chemical report came in on
Ada Appelgate. Ada Appelgate had
been murdered by the administration
of arsenic. - nh

F KING and Littleton had the idea
that they had experienced the last
surprising turn of the case, they

were in for a shock. When the three
adults from the bungalow were ush-
ered into Littleton’s office, the D. A.,
a good showman who realized the

‘value of dramatic build-ups in murder

quiz bees, sat grimly at his desk,
reading something. What he was read-
ing was the chemical report on Ada
Appelgate.

After five minutes of high-tension

silence, Littleton looked u and
searched the faces of the Creightons
and Appelgate. “I have here,” he be-
gan, “a report on the analysis of Mrs.
re ge s vital organs. She has,” he
said, measuring each word and each
face as he uttered the words, “been
poisoned.”
_ Creighton, the forgotten man of the
investigation, looked sharply at his
wife. Mrs. Creighton stiffened. Appel-
gate was hard to figure.

“Well,” asked Littleton, “hasn’t any-
body got anything to say?”

It was John Creighton who spoke
up. He turned to his wife and said,

“Frances, if you did anything to that
woman, you’ve got to go to it alone—
this time.” ie

. Dr. Hoffman, the psychiatrist, had,
folowing a study of Mrs. Creighton,
told Littleton ‘to watch the, woman’s
throat when she was in a tight spot.
Her throat throbbed visibly on such an
occasion. It did so now.

Littleton took Mrs. Creighton into’

another room. He used every legal
weapon at his command. She just'sat
there for a long while, not moving.
Finally her throat began to throb. She
said, “I did it, Mr. Littleton.” é

Littleton was wondering what the
motive had been and was about to go
into that, when the Borgia added, “And
Everett Appelgate helped me.”

The Borgia said that after she
‘learned that Appelgate had betrayed
her. daughter she became the solicitous
mother—fearful that her daughter
would have a child. She was utterly
powerless to stop Appelgate continu-
ing his betrayal of Ruth, she said, be-
cause of the exposure weapon that he
was holding over her head. She knew
it was useless to even think of Aghting
him. - The result was that she an
Appelgate became friends, somewhat
- a mother-in-law and son-in-law

asis.

One night, in the middle of Septem-

ber, Appelgate and Mrs. Creighton °

and Ruth were alone in the house.
Creighton was out and Mrs. Appelgate
had taken the children to the movies.
Mrs. Creighton said to Appelgate,
“Appy, why don’t. you marry Ruth?”
“How can I?” asked. Appelgate. “You
forget I already have a wife.”
“Poison her,” suggested Mrs. Creigh-
ton. “That’s one way to get rid of her.
Anyway, her mouth’s too big. She’s
giving Ruth a bad name to the neigh-
rs

“By God,” said Appelgate, “you’ve

got a good idea, Fran! When do we
start?’

“lll handle everything,” said Mrs.
Creighton. “I’ll take care of her just
like I. took care of my brother and
pig be mother. Don’t you worry about
a thing.”

The motive of Mrs. Creighton, then,
was to clear the way for the marriage
of her betrayed’ daughter to the man
who had betrayed her. It was as ele-
mental as that.

They started, the Borgia and Appel-
gate, by going to a chain store, right
in Baldwin, and buying a patented
preparation called Rough on Rats,
which contained arsenic. They intro-
duced it into chocolate pudding, one
of Ada Appelgate’s favorite dishes.
They took turns preparing the doomed
woman’s food, and they pulled the
wool over everybody’s eyes and she
died about ten days after they had
begun operations.

ND so the poisoners were convicted.
Everett eyelgate might have
lived to marry Ruth but for one of

those things called, for lack of a better
name, a twist of fate. Mrs. Creighton
had gotten away with two murders in
Newark, and stood in a fair way to get
away with a third, only for that
neighbor who talked to the bakery,
man, and ity the alert cop the pho-
tostats. That neighbor would never
have talked had not Mrs. Creighton,
the authority on arsenic, stupidly
overlooked the simple fact that it
would have taken a dozen cakes,
rather than one, to have reduced the

‘woman to a-state where she couldn’t

possibly have talked. It was the mur-
der that Mrs. Creighton did not com-
mit, rather than the ones she did com-
mit, that finally sent her, along with
Everett Appelgate, to Sing Sing’s elec-
tric chair.

RED HOT

CLUE OF THE RISQUE POSTCARDS

CONTINUED FROM PAGE {3

passenger was sticking his head out
ee and asking me if I wanted
a Ng

“And?” Crow prompted, when she

paused.

“Oh, I got in like. an idiot,” the girl
continued. “And .the stupid Don
Juan, a young dark-haired fellow
with mocking eyes, hardly waited for
the cab to get. under way before he
began to make passes at me. When

he started mau me. me my. dander’ -

went up and I shoved him away.
That’s when he tore my coat pocket
and dumped the contents of my purse
on the floor.”:

“What happened then?” Crow

asked. -

“He subsided for a while,-but in a
few minutes he was trying a new
dodge. This time it was filthy pic-
tures. You know the kind. You hold
them up to the light...” She hesi-
tated, flushed

“I know,” Crow said gently. “Go

n. ;
“At this point, I decided I’d had
enough of the free ride, so I_yélled
for the taxi driver to stop so I could
get out and walk. The cabby was
awfully nice. He stopped the car.
snatched the postals, envelopes and
all out of the zyene wolf’s hands and
told him to get out of the cab.”
‘Did he get out?” Crow asked.

“No he didn’t,” the girl said. “Not
only that but he informed the driver
that if he didn’t take him to his des-
tination in Gainesville, he wouldn’t
pay him a cent. Figuring the fare
meant something to a poor cab driver,
I got out and the cab drove off. A
few minutes later a motorist stopped,
picked me up, and carried me right
to my door—and without so much as
a wolfish look.”

“About what time was it when you
got out?” Crow asked.

“Around nine-thirty.”

“Your friends have names and ad-
dresses, of course?”

The girl nodded, reeled both off
without any hesitation.

Crow jotted them down in his note-

* book. hen after glancing auto-

matically at his notes, although the
details of the case were already im-
printed on his mind, he eyed her
quizzically for a moment. She met
his disturbed. glance levelly.

“By the way, this young wolf ask
you to ‘toddle in’ when you got into
the car?” he asked.

The girl looked bewildered. “No,”
she said. “I remember distinctly that
he said: ‘Hop in, baby.’” Suddenly

»her face lit up. “When he went into

his song-and-dance, he did mention
wanting to take me to the Toddle Inn
for dinner next time I came to At-

lanta. Could that be what you
meant?”

“Could be,” Crow said, making a
check against one of his notes. .“And
how about ‘snitching.’ Anything
said or done that the cab driver
threatened to report?”

“Not a thing,” the girl said. “If
there was anything to report, I’d like
to report how swell the cab driver
was.

netted them more than they had

hoped to learn, the officers de-
parted. Their first port of call was
the home of the girl’s friends so as
to check on her alibi. It stood up.

En route back to town, Crow and
Bullard talked it over. “At least part
of Herron’s death-bed statement
makes sense,” he said scowling. “We
find that there was a girl in his cab.
And that there is a ‘Toddle Inn’ which
we'll investigate in due course.”

“And we find that Herron didn’t
own those filthy postcards,” Bullard
added. “I don’t mind telling you I’m

lad we found it out. It didn’t figure
or a man like Herron to be interested
in filth like that.”

Crow sighed. “Okay, so Herron
yanked the filthy cards out of the
obnoxious Casanova’s hand and auto-
matically stuffed them in his pocket.

Taet questioning session having

So where «
“So it’s s
“Somethi

nearly eno)

taxi, picks
me in .'
roppin
himself at
to have din

Inn, next t’

She gets ou

all this adc
Bullard
“The wh

thinking,” ‘
on the wo:
snitched.’ '
investigate.
cording to
posed alwz
if delayed.
pay statior
members s

HEY. dr:
places \
drew b
they reac!
asked the
“Sure he
told the off
I'd say. A

tracks—slic
eyed. Stil
me a tract.
“A tract
“That’s \
replied. ‘“‘t
a me
Tow gle
motion
two talked
a day. W
Crow’s offi
morning, C
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waiting for
“Cause
through th«
to be a .38
and Wessor
this report.
Crow im
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hops. He started in on me, and Red
and Simmons called him in the back
bedroom. They kept him there a
long time and when they came out,
Elgin left. Red said we didn’t need
to worry about him. That’s all I
know about it, honest.” She didn’t
say whether or not she had gone to
a show with young Jordan the night
before he was murdered.

HEN Simmons heard = about

Bernice Cory’s story, he quickly
changed his tune in a frantic effort
to save his own neck.

“That Cory gal is just trying to
make me take the rap for something
her boy friend did,” Simmons ex-
ploded. “She knows I didn’t have any
part in that killing. I knew that
Jordan kid all right, yes, but I didn’t
know he was going to be killed when
we took him out to the creek that day.
Graham called me that morning and
told me to come over to his house.
When I got there, this Jordan kid was
there too.

“Graham said we were all going rid-

FACTS FROM OFFICIAL FILES

ing. We went to the creek. Then
Graham told me to sit in the car. He
said he and Jordan were going down
to the creek and talk a little.. Then
I heard two shots. Graham came
back alone. He says he killed Jor-
dan for talking too much, and for
messing around his girl. If I knew
what was good for me, I'd be mighty
careful.”

Pitcock went next to Graham’s cell.

“Well, Red,” Pitcock said, seating
himself on the hard cot, “your boat
is sinking fast, and just when you're
getting to make a nice, long trip up
the river. This Cory gal has spilled
the beans, and so has your good
friend, Simmons. But Simmons says
he didn’t have anything to do with it.
He says you're the bird we’re looking
for. What’s your opinion?”

Graham’s face flushed. “Why that
dirty low-down rat,” and he cursed.
“He’s in this mess as deep as I am.
Every bit. He was as scared as I was
that Jordan was going to talk about
that cafe job. We both wanted to get
rid of him. And we both took him

down to the creek. He kept talking
to the kid and I shot Jordan in the
back of the head. He fell down but
he wasn’t dead yet. He looked up
at me sorta queer like and I shot him
again. We tried to find the bullets
but we could locate only one of
them.”

“What about Bernice?” Pitcock
asked. “Was Jordan getting too
friendly with her?”

“We won’t go into that!”

Neither of the men claimed that
Bernice Cory had any part in the
killing or the holdup so she was re-
leased from jail and no charges were
filed against her.

On April 18th, only two months
after Jordan had been murdered, both
Graham and Simmons were tried on
a charge of murder in the first degree,
and both men were convicted and
sentenced to life in the Arkansas State
Penitentiary.

(The name Bernice Cory is fic-
titious to save an innocent person from
embarrassment.)

“HE DISCARDED ME FOR MY

DAUGHTER”

(Continued from page 33)

the person upon whom she trained
them uncomfortably aware of their
power.

Inspector King introduced the de-
tectives who had entered at his heels,
told her that it would be necessary
for his men and himself to intrude
on this house of grief in order to make
a purely routine police investigation.

Mrs. Creighton nodded her head
vigorously and said she fully under-
stood. A moment later Mrs. Creigh-
ton’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Ruth,
came into the living room. She had
evidently been in bed because she
was clad in a flimsy nightgown and a
robe thrown hastily about her shoul-
ders. She was an attractive girl,
physically mature beyond her years.

At a signal from the Inspector the
detectives went through the house,
searching it from garret to cellar in an
effort to find arsenic. They could find
none.

One detective, however, found a
writing tablet on a shelf in the closet
of Mrs. Creighton’s bedroom. He
called the Inspector into another room
and handed it to him. Inspector King
examined it carefully, compared it
with the paper on which the anony-
mous letters were written. They were
similar. There was a pencil line
scrawled down the edge of the pad.
Inspector King noted carefully the
edges of the paper on which_the
anonymous notes were written. Each
had a minute pencil mark that was
visible to the naked eye. He fit the
paper on the tablet. The marks were
a continuation of the scrawl. There
could be no doubt that the pages
came from this pad.

It meant, then, that Mrs. Creighton
or someone in the house had been the
author of the scurrilous letters di-
rected at Everett Appelgate, the hand-
some legionaire. King wondered why
she had taken this devious means to
vent her spleen. As he pondered its
significance Mrs. Creighton came int
the room and said that she was going

to brew some coffee and wondered if
he would have some. He nodded
absently. By the time she returned
King had the matter doped out.

There could be only one motive for
her act. Jealousy.

He took the bull by the horns. There
was to be no fencing or parrying.
With a directness that almost floored
her, he asked, “How many times have
you and Mr. Appelgate been inti-
mate?”

Mrs. Creighton’s jaw dropped.
“Only ...” She fumbled for words.

“How dare you ask such a question?” .

she fairly screamed.

King handed her the anonymous
notes. “Why did you write these?”

She began to deny authorship, then
seeing that it was useless, replied: “I
wanted the Appelgates to move out
of this house. I didn’t like to insult
them by telling them to their face.”

“That will be all,” Inspector King
said and Mrs. Creighton turned on her
heels and went back to the kitchen.

A detective handed Inspector King
two volumes. One was entitled “My
Love Life” and dealt at length and
in great detail on sexual practises.
The second was “Health Knowledge.”
The Inspector thumbed through it.
It fell open to the part dealing with
the effects of arsenic upon the human
system. These pages were soiled at
the edges and dog-eared.

King’s lips tightened. There was
still no evidence of any crime, but
more and more the feeling grew that
he had stepped into the very heart of
an emotional tangle that had resulted
in murder.

A theory was growing in his mind—
one so incredible that at first, even as
his mind examined it, he refused to
give it credence.

He called young Ruth Creighton
into another room, out of hearing of
the family. The gold ankle bracelet,
the bright red nail polish, the heavily
rouged lips, all showed that she was
far from ignorant in the ways of the

world. King smiled in friendly fashion.

“Are you fond of Mr. Appelgate?”
he asked.

“I am very fond of Uncle Ev,” she
replied, returning the smile.

King questioned her about the
sleeping arrangements in the house
and was told that on certain occasions
when visitors stayed over she slept in
the same bed with her Uncle Ev and
Uncle Ev’s young daughter. King’s
questioning had been of an innocent

_nature, but each answer he received

served to confirm the suspicions in his
mind.

A keen student of human nature,
Inspector King’s next question broke
the case. He didn’t ask the girl if,
but rather how long she had been
having intimate relations with her
“Uncle Ev.”

The girl replied simply: “Since last
June.”

No sooner had these words left her
lips when Inspector King turned his
head, saw Mrs. Creighton standing in
the doorway. It was evident from
her manner that she had heard the
questions and the answers they had
elicited.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she cried,
anger growing in her ,voice.

There was a look of surprise in
Ruth’s eyes. “Why, Mother, you’ve
known all along.”

Mrs. Creighton regarded her daugh-
ter in stony silence for a moment, then
turned away.

Ruth explained to the Inspector that
Uncle Ev had told her that what they
were doing was no sin because he was
very fond of her. His first real ad-
vances had come during an American.
Legion affair when they were both
alone in the projection room of the
theatre in which the function was
held. Following that night Appelgate
saw to it that they were frequently
alone together in the house and also
persuaded Ruth to take long automo-
bile rides with him.

One night two months ago Mrs.


Soo URE ee

Mf PRI) PATTY

ES

Creighton walked into the bedroom
‘and surprised Appelgate and her
daughter in an embrace. Since that
time she was aware that her daughter
and Appelgate were continuing their
affair.

Inspector King asked the girl to say
goodnight to her parents and go to
bed. She did as she was directed.

Mrs. Creighton came in with a tray
covered with cups of coffee. She
handed one to the Inspector. He toyed
with the handle of the cup she gave
him for a moment, then he looked
into her piercing eyes, and said, “No
thank you.”

M*. CREIGHTON and Appelgate
were taken to Mineola head-
quarters that night and held in pro-
tective custody. Appelgate who was
questioned at length, said that the
story concerning himself and Ruth

was manufactured out of whole cloth.

Mr. Creighton knew absolutely
nothing of any wrongdoing in the
household. ;

It was on Mrs. Creighton that the
police officers concentrated their at-
tention. A dozen times she told a
dozen different stories, never once
bothering about the apparent contra-
dictions in them. She was careful
not to admit that she had been guilty
of any misconduct. It wasn’t until
Dr. Gettler’s report came in showing
conclusively that Mrs. Appelgate had
been murdered as the result of arsenic
poisoning that she cracked.

Her confession is the most bizarre
document in New York State’s annals
of crime.

“IT lied to you when I said that Mr.

last night,” he told the_ officers.

“It’s all fitting together,” Benjamin
said. “They must have left their
home a little after seven to visit the
Domans and possibly ran into those
hitch-hikers whom Robideau saw. Be-
ing a man and woman, they wouldn’t
hesitate to pick them up and give
them a ride.”

The next step was to determine
where the killers had actually mur-
dered Mike Kuntz and his wife.

“We'll drive out to the Kuntz house
and cover the road toward the Do-
man home,” Benjamin _ instructed.
“The glass from the broken car win-
dow should be on the road.”

A surprise was waiting at the Kuntz
home.

Tacked on the front door was a
piece of cardboard similar to the one
found at the grain elevator. Written
on it in the same bold jJonghand
strokes were the words:

“GONE TO COLUMBUS.”

“What do you make of that?” Cor-
oner Smith grunted.

“The killers planned to give them-
selves plenty of time to get away,”
Benjamin said.

With the help of a score of volun-
teer possemen from town, Benjamin
and Coroner Smith led the’ search
along the road from Kuntz’s to Lut-
gen’s home. A mile and a half from
Kuntz’s place, they were rewarded
for their diligent search. Broken

COMPLETE DETECTIVE CASES

Appelgate and I were not intimate,”
she told Inspector King. “Only a few
days after the Appelgates came to
live with us Mr. Appelgate happened
to come home early one day. I was
lying in bed with a cold. He sat at
the edge of the bed making love to
me. I tried to resist his advances,
but he forced his attentions on me.
Since that day we were lovers. But
when I found out that he discarded me
for my daughter and was having an
affair with her we broke off.”

“Have you had any relations with
him since that day?” Inspector King
asked. ©

“No,” she replied, “I don’t remember
exactly.”

Somehow, she said, Ada Appelgate
became suspicious of her husband’s
affair with Ruth. She was afraid that
Ada would spread the news. There
was another fear in her mind. This
was that her daughter would become
pregnant. She figured that with Mrs.
Appelgate out of the way, Everett, the
man who had been her own lover,
could marry her daughter. She hap-
pened to mention to the handsome
legionaire that if Ada died their prob-
lem would be solved.

“If I could get away with it, I’d kill
her myself,” Appelgate replied.

“That’s not hard,” Mrs. Creighton
said. “I used arsenic once and nobody
could prove a thing.”

That was the beginning of the mur-
der plot. The pair went to a Baldwin
pharmacy and purchased a box of rat
poison containing a large amount of
arsenic. They fed it slowly to the
victim. When the doctor prescribed a
course of treatment, arsenic was added

to it, which accounted for the fact that
Mrs. Appelgate responded to the
treatment in the hospital while she
had been growing steadily worse at
home. The final lethal dose was
handed her in an eggnog which Mrs.
Creighton forced down Mrs. Appel-
gate’s unwilling throat.

The confession was placed before
Applegate and he confirmed part of
it. He admitted that he had carried
on an affair with Ruth but denied that
he had been intimate with the mother.

“She didn’t appeal to me,” he said
in a cocky manner, “She’s too old.”
To the end he denied that he was in
any way implicated in the murder.

Mrs. Creighton and Everett Appel-
gate went on trial for their lives in the
County Courthouse in Mineola late in
January, 1936. District Attorney Mar-
tin Littleton presented a powerful
case, aided considerably by Mrs.
Creighton’s surprise confession from
the witness stand.

The jury was out a short time,
found both guilty of murder in the
first degree and the judge sentenced
them to death.

It was on a cold spring day in 1937
that the woman prisoner, bare-legged,
clothed in a blue denim dress, a bald
spot shaved in the center of her head
to receive the deadly electrode, sup-
ported by four matrons was walked
into the death chamber and seated in
the electric chair. A moment later a
charge of electricity was sent coursing
through her body.

A minute after her life had been
snuffed out, her companion in crime,

Everett Appelgate, paid with his life

for his part in the shocking affair.

“THEY KILLED MAMA AND DADDY” —

(Continued from page 17) .- ‘4

glass and bloodstains were found be-
side the road.

It was a case of finding the hitch-
hikers now!

The break came quickly. When
Benjamin and Coroner Smith re-
turned to town, information was wait-
ing that a couple who answered the
description Robideau had given of the
pair had been living in a small cabin
about fourteen miles out of town.
Benjamin raced to the cabin in his
car and found the couple there.

Both expressed surprise at the visit
of the undersheriff and completely
denied any knowledge of the murder
of Mike Kuntz and his wife and the
assault upon little Larry Kuntz.

“We've been living here almost a
month,” the man, who gave his name
as Hugh Brown, declared. “We
weren’t anywhere near Wheat Basin
last night.” ,

“Where were you around seven
o’clock?” Benjamin demanded.

“At seven o'clock ... ” Brown
repeated. “Why ...I was over at
the Froeman ranch. I went over to
borrow a pail of flour.”

The Froeman ranch was a half-mile
up the road. With Brown and his
blonde wife, Elsa, in custody, Ben-
jamin took them up to the ranch to
verify Brown’s story.

Several employes on the ranch
gave Brown his alibi of being at the
ranch at seven o’clock. He had walked

ere with a lard pail to borrow some
our.

Nevertheless, Benjamin took Brown
and his wife into town for further
investigation. When Larry recovered,
he would have the boy look at the
pair to see if they were the ones his
parents had picked up on the road.

With Brown and his blonde wife
in jail, the investigation seemed to
come to a temporary halt.
Larry who was bravely struggling for
his life in the hospital would be the
main factor in the solution. If he
could name Hugh and Elsa Brown
as the hitch-hikers who had attacked
his mother and father, the case would
be closed.

“Not much to do but wait until
the boy gets better,” Coroner Smith
commented to Benjamin later.

“T don’t know,” Benjamin grunted. © >

“Some strange thoughts have been
banging around in my head that

somehow just don’t seem to fit into”

this case.”

“Huh? Don’t you think those hitch-

hikers...

“When I get thinking about it, I’m»

not sure,” Benjamin said. “I can’t
tie them up with those notes.
did. not know Mike Kuntz. Why
then would they drive his car ‘to
the grain elevator? How would they
know where his home was to put the
note on the door that he had goné
to Columbus?”

Little -


—

a a ial

being tried for his life was Tony
Zimo.

-“But,” wrote Smith after reviewing
his notes, ‘‘Zimo was indicted by the
Schuylkill County grand jury as Zimo
alias Santo Andidero. I remember
the case vividly because I had been
hired to investigate the murder by the
district attorney as the county had no
detective.”

Smith had been with the Pennsyl-
vania State Police from 1907 to 1917.
He was called in by the Schuylkill
County district attorney when the
body of Tony Molinaro was found
shot to death in Palo Alto, in
February, 1927.

“Molinaro invited bullets the min-
ute he began fooling around with
Tommy Longo’s sweetheart,” an un-
derworld character confided to Smith.
“Maybe Molinaro didn’t realize it
but from the first minute he began
sweet-talking that girl he was court-
ing death.”

“Don't look for Longo,” Smith
said he was advised by the same man,
“because Longo didn’t do it.”

But Smith did look for Longo from
whom he reported he obtained a con-
fession that Zimo,’ also known ‘as
Santo Andidero, had done the job for
Longo for $1,000.. Longo and Zimo,
alias Andidero, were both indicted.

It was one of the first real warm
days of spring when on May 2, 1927, a
jury was drawn in the Court of Oyer
and Terminer in Schuylkill County.
There were ten men on the jury and
two women. Once the formality of
getting a jury was completed a hush
came over the court room.

“I call Harvey Smith,” the district
attorney said.

Smith testified Zimo had left the
scene before apprehension and had
been arrested in Susquehanna, Penn-
sylvania, Mar. 2, 1927, at the home of
Mrs. Peter Polarzo, 313 E. Main
Street. He had been living there for
a few days using the name of Tony
Sandino.

“At the time of his arrest did Zimo
have any’money on his person?’ the
district attorney asked.

“He had $960 which had been paid
him by the man who had hired him
to do the killing.”

“I object,” cried Zimo’s attorney
jumping to his feet.

The look of injured innocence
which Zimo had assumed since he was
led into the court room did not
change. One attractively dressed
woman in the jury box seemed fas-
cinated by Zimo. She was unable to
take her eyes off him.

Four days later the attorneys
summed up. Zimo’s lawyer never
once referred to him as Andidero
although that name was also on the
indictment. Later in the day the
foreman of the jury cleared his throat:
“We find Antonio Zimo not guilty.”

The verdict puzzled Detective
Smith as it did other residents of the
area. In a statement made sometime
later, Smith wrote: “It was reported
that one of the two women jurors
was friendly inclined to Zimo and
that herinfluence resulted in acquittal.
Public reaction was unfriendly and
the community talked of a miscarriage
of justice. After the acquittal of Zimo
I feel it is useless to try Longo who
was also indicted.”

Zimo alias Andidero dropped out
of sight. No one bothered him. Then
one afternoon in July, 1930, three
years later, the telephone shrilled in
a. sub-station of the Pennsylvania
State Police. Sgt. Alfred B. Verbecken
answered. :

“Go to Kulpmont in. Northumber-
land County,” the commanding offi-
cer of Troop E. told him. “There’s
a woman been attacked there in an
alley between Spruce and Chestnut
streets. She’s been slashed across the
face.”

The sergeant drove along the high-
way at a brisk rate. The weather was
warm and clear. In Kulpmont he
learned the woman attacked was
Teresa Bastiano, a 45-year-old house-
wife. She had been taken to the
Shamokin Hospital. The crime oc-
curred at 3:45 p. m. Right afterwards
a man had been seen running through
the woods toward the fan house. of

the' Susquehanna collieries, followed...

by a number of citizens who had heard
Mrs. Bastiano scream.

The town of Kulpmont was in an
uproar. Men and women stood chat-
tering excitedly along the curb. ~

Narrator Detective Louis Fortunato, above, and Detectives Fred Grieco and
John Grande (top) who began to work on the New York State case in 1923.

43

“They'll get him, I’m sure they
will,’ oge woman exclaimed.

Trooper Verbecken drove over to
the borough jail where he saw a group
of men shoving a man along ahead
of them.

“It’s Tony Zimo,”’ somebody said.
“Tony Appachello caught him.”

Panting and out of breath Appa-
chello began his story to the trooper.

“I didn’t know what Zimo had
done,” Appachello explained when he
finally stopped breathing heavily. “I
heard he'd stolen a pocketbook. I
took up the chase. I just helped to
catch him. There were a lot more
who ran after him.”

Trooper Verbecken and other off-
cers spent the late afternoon and early
evening try- [Continued on page 94]

’


ia
’

“Don't be silly, honey,” he said. “Allen The woman looked at him with simu- The afternoon of the execution, Utica
will never bother you again.” He drank lated pride. detectives visited him in his cell, an
more of the liquor and his speech thick- Suddenly she said: asked him to clear up the brief but bloody
ened. “Tony, what would you do if I squealed list of events... the shootings, killings,

He flashed a roll of bills. “There’s on you?” . bombings and fires.
$400 there,” he said, patting the money Posterino laughed. “On one condition,” the killer replied.
affectionately. “Tomorrow I get the rest “ ” id. * “On condition the governor doesn’t com-

A > Honey, baby,” he said, “the day the 8
and then we'll have a good time.” cops take me you're a dead chicken. mute my sentence.
ii With an effort the woman restrained Don’t forget that “You only have a couple of hours to
Shh herself. “Did you kill Raymond?” she “But ed ws : bout that,” he go,” the detectives told him.
dol asked tensely. d er mong pute fe * wy bape h “who killed Battaglia?” a detective
e's Posterino rose. A scowl creased his said, “I'm too tough. Do you know who pressed.
e’s features. set all those fires in Utica? Little Tony, Posterino hesitated.
Bs “What's the matter, baby?” he asked. baby. little Tony. . Suddenly there was a stir at the door
t43 “Don’t forget, you're my girl now, not Posterino downed another drink, lay and a guard walked in.
tea Allen's.” back on the davenport and soon fell into “Posterino,” he told the killer, “the
wee The woman forced a_ smile. “Forget 4 deep, drunken sleep. governor has commuted your sen-
, it,” she said. “I was trying to make you The woman went straight to the state tence.”
aati jealous.” ‘ police and unfolded her story. . The killer glanced at the small knet
anal “That's better,” Posterino replied. There was a quick trial and Posterino of detectives and laughed.
asked “Let’s drink up.” was convicted and sentenced to die in “Scram, you guys, he jeered. “I’m all
tide The woman’s arms drew Posterino the electric chair. through singing.”
wned close to her. Dulcet tones belied the
glint in her sparkling eyes.

“Tony,” sh d, “you’
naleee heen Eee cn" murmure you're the SUSPECT ARRESTED

The killer smirked.

ep “That's better, baby,” he said. Sipe cit ; Pm
ent The woman kissed him. ; 4 ti kamaante. ' 1 : om
we, & “You're smaft, too, Tony,” she said. diated ;

the “You got Allen and he was as clever as .

There any of them. All these years that store
of his in Utica fooled the cops.”
“Allen was a chump,” Posterina said.
ach $6 The woman pressed another drink into
. . his hand. Posterino gulped it down.
“4 He “We ot wise to him right at the be-
ginning,” he said. “Then one night we

it was

dae sent Amendola over to tell him he’d have
| police to pay just like the rest.”
| began. “Were you scared?” the woman asked.
| Posterino’s chest swelled. “Naw,” he
growled. “But wait a minute. Here's the
| payoff. Amendola got tough with him
| 1s were and Allen and his buddies took him down
car slid to the railroad tracks and tied him to
ttre .in the spikes.”
He burst into lauglfter.
| - curb “Remember the first time I met you?”
| \. : he said. |
he car. The girl nodded.
a steel
psi ; “W ELL, Allen says to me,” and Pos-
marked” _terino laughed again, “he says to
entifica- me, ‘Tony, you go near my woman and
ie shots I'll cut your head off. Like Battaglia? I
: f said, ‘Yeh,’ he says, ‘just like I_ got
Larrazo Battaglia.’ Well, whose honey is Rosa
now?
t er err woman snuggled closer to the
iller.
i street “T’m yours, Tony,” she said.
leniewr Posterino gulped another drink. |
> names “You don’t know the half of it,” he
and uo said. “One day I met a guy in Utica
os who. didn’t like Allen, either, and he told
oat little me. it’s worth 800 bucks to bump Ray.
iume and That’s like getting paid for kissing you,
embraced baby,” he said.
‘enport “A couple of days after that I ran
he radiio across Ray, and I said: ;
tex atten, “Ray, let’s you and me team up. Allen
ne suan’s _ said okay, and I told him about a swell
" still we could pick up just outside of
aid play- Fulton and we went after it.
e would “We drove out to Bowens Corners
ams. Oe and then I turned up a dirt road and
‘es. “You pretty soon I stopped the car.
You look “I said to Ray, ‘This is where we get
out.’
“Just as Ray started to get out I
» shadows slugged him over the head with a wrench :
’ d and he fell out like a sack of flour. Then : : :
ne I carried him back to the edge of the Mike Sayko, of Pittsburgh, wanted by police for questioning, is shown being
you here 4 road and put a slug through his head and marched down the highway by Deputy Marshal John Berche of Lorain county,

left him there.” immediately following his capture in a cornfield.

53


BER in eee

AMENDOLA, Rafaele, white, elec. NYS (Oneida) August 30, 1923

Av warm October sunshine illumi-
nated the autumn foliage along the
Barge Canal. Leaves of trees and
shrubs on its banks were so many
different colors they seemed to have
been dipped in a pot of rainbow
paint.

Two little girls, the Cobb sisters,
walked hand in hand across the bridge
at Schuyler, New York, each carrying
a gallon container for oil their
mother had told them to get at the
village store. They stopped for a
moment at the rail to watch the pastel-
colored leaves float lazily on the
surface of the water below.

“Look sister, look,’ one of them
said. “See. A turtle.”

“Gee! It’s a whopper,’ exclaimed’
the other child.

For a moment they watched. Then
the sluggish waters of the canal
shifted. Slowly the turtle’s back de-
veloped two long human arms; just
below the surface they could make out
two sturdy legs.

The older sister gulped. ‘““That’s
not a turtle. That’s a man. He’s
dead. Let’s run tell Mother.”

Half an hour later Herkimer
County authorities dragged the body

ARSON/

ar
an

2

of Patsy Catrupe, a Utica storekeeper,
up on the bank. They found a bullet
in his’ head. Coroner Graves esti-
mated Catrupe had been in the water
about three weeks. Oneida County
authorities were notified because
Utica, the county seat, is in Oneida
County.

In our detective bureau at Utica
Police Headquarters everyone talked
excitedly about the discovery. De-
tective Fred Grieco glanced up at the
daily calendar above his desk. It read
October 21, 1923.

“That makes it,” he said.. “The
time is just about right.” ,

“What do you mean?” John Grande,
his partner, asked.

“Remember what Raffaele Amen-
dola told his attorneys in the death
house at Sing Sing this summer?”

Grande nodded. He remembered.
Amendola had told them: “If I die
in the electric chair then Patsy Cat-
rupe will meet his Creator ‘in thirty
days.”

“Don’t you see?’ Grande’s partner
continued, “It works out perfectly.
Amendola went to the chair Au-
gust 31. "The month of September
passes. Now the body of Catrupe
is found and the coroner believes
it has been: in the water about
three weeks.”

Grande was silent a moment. Then ~

he shook his head. “All right. That

works out as to time but it doesn’t

tell us who got Catrupe.”

Amendola had been electrocuted
for fatally shooting Rocco Fiorili in
Utica February 3, 1922. In the death
house statement to his lawyers he’d
predicted the killing’ of Catrupe but
he left many things unexplained. He’d
indicated Catrupe had been impli-

cated in his shooting Fiorili but there
were many angles which still were not
clear to the Utica police.

“I want to talk to Santo Andidero,
Catrupe’s_ brother-in-law,’ Grande

‘said. “J think he could clear up.a lot

that puzzles us if he’d talk.”

On the steps of a home near the
end of Mary Street Grande and Grieco
waited after Grande knocked. In a
few seconds the door opened a crack.

The voice of a woman in the shadowy

BY LOUIS FORTUNATO

Detective, Utica, N.Y., Police Bureau

hallway told them: “Andidero don't
live here any more.”

An hour later Grande stood beyjee
the coffin of Catrupe in the home of
his widow. Mrs. Catrupe, sobbing
softly, looked up, her eyes red from
crying.

“TY hate to intrude at a time Like
this,” Grande said, “but where #ggour
brother?”

“T don’t know.” - Then after :
pause she said more emphagjeally: “
really don’t know.”

_Grande went back to headquarters.
He took out the file on Andidero.
There was not much there. He’d heard
Andidero had come to the United
States around 1908 and for a time
worked as a track hand on the Erie
Railroad. Someone had told him
Andidero had gone back to Italy
during the first World War and served
a year in the Italian army.

The records showed Andidero was
arrested just once. Buffalo police had
picked him up. He was driving a
Rolls Royce which the police there
had no: difficulty in spotting. It was
the property of a prominent Utica
doctor. Andidero and two men who
went with him were charged with
grand larceny, first degree. Andidero
carried a gun. That made a second
charge. Carrying a gun without a per-
mit. Grande remembered Andidero’s
return to Utica from Buffalo in
December, 1922.

“I. just borrowed the car,” Andi-

_dero kept insisting, grinning in the

face of the officers. “You can’t hate
a man for borrowing so beautiful a

machine.”

Some of the detectives said the
doctor who owned the car was soft
hearted. Others heard that a smartly
dressed woman who could proudly
adorn any magazine cover visited the
doctor one afternoon and talked very
convincingly.

“He’s such a boy, so impulsive,”
she was reported to have said.

Later the doctor said at police
headquarters: “I’ve got the car back.
That’s all I want. I don’t care to
prosecute.”

Andidero marched briskly out of
headquarters. ®

4}


Now Grande wanted to talk with
him about the murder and he couldn’t
be found.

“Why waste time on Andidero?”
Grieco asked Grande one day.

“You know that beautiful woman
in East Utica, the one they call
Felicia?’ Grande asked.
rupe and Andidero were in love with
her.”

“Can you prove it?”
lenged.

Grande couldn’t but he © still
wanted to talk to Andidero. East
Uticans had seen the dapper Andi-
dero dress up in a cowboy’s costume.
Perhaps he'd gone out West, they
said. He might be on a ranch some-
where.

Then the Utica police were told
about a series of Black Hand
letters received by a bus operator,
Joe Thomas. These were linked with
the Catrupe murder, they were sure.
They forgot about Andidero or that
he might tell them something perti-
nent about his brother-in-law’s death.
They were following another trail.

But the trail of the Black Hand
letters led nowhere.

“It stands to reason,” Grande kept
telling his partner, “with Andidero
and Catrupe in love with the same
woman he should be able to tell us
something that would give us a lead
on the Catrupe case.”

But Andidero stayed out of town
and no one was ever charged with
the murder of Patsy Catrupe.

Grieco chal-

The months slipped swiftly by.
Then one warm night in June, 1924
three things happened in Utica in
rapid succession:

A thirteen-year-old boy took the
porch steps of his home at 1906 Rut-
ger two at a time as he called out:
“Mom, Mom! I heard a shot in Proc-
tor park. It sounded like a revolver.
Call the police.”

“Calm down, son,” said Mrs. Oliva-
doitori to young Peter. “It must have
been an automobile backfiring.”

Minutes later glaring white lights
flooded a room in General Hospital.
Anthony DelGigante lay on the
operating table. Two surgeons bent
over him. Dr. Fred Owens examined
the wound. Dr. M. G. Preston held
DelGigante’s wrist, taking his pulse.
He shook his head.

“Better call the coroner,” he told
an officer who stood in the shadow
just beyond the rim of the light’s white
glare.

When the coroner came the sur-’

geons said: “The bullet’s in his neck.
It’s taken a’ downward course. He’s
in bad condition.”

The coroner, Dr. Herman J. Hab-
erer, turned to the man on the operat-
ing table. Quietly he asked: “Who
did it?”

DelGigante’s body stiffened. His
lips closed firmly in a straight line.

42

“Both Cat-.

“Better tell us,” Haberer pressed
his question. “You're in bad shape.”

DelGigante began to shake his head
but the movement intensified the pain
in his neck, After that he held his
head still, looking dully at the ceiling.

“Quickly now,” the coroner in-
sisted. “You're a dying man.”

“It was my friend,’ the man on the
white table finally said. ‘““My good
friend, Santo Andidero.”

“Why?” one of the surgeons asked,

“I don’t know. I can’t under-
stand it.”

Associates of Grieco and Grande
slipped out of the hospital and began
searching for Andidero. Coroner
Haberer, standing beside the table,
jotted down DelGigante’s story.

The dying man ran a grocery store
at 900 Albany, he said. Andidero re-
cently returned to Utica, dropped in
often to chat. It developed in their
conversations Andidero was fond of
a woman named Felicia. Felicia had
a niece. Then occasionally the two
men had dinner at Felicia’s. One eve-
ning the four fell to arguing and after
that there were no more dinners.

“Today,” DelGigante went on, “An-
didero came into the store with a note
he told me was from one of the women.
She wanted me to meet her in the
park. The quarrel would be made up.”

DelGigante left a boy in charge of
his store. He waited in Proctor park
for an hour when suddenly Andidero
appeared asking: “‘Is she here yet?’

“No,” he was told. ‘

Andidero uttered a vile oath. Then
he said: “She promised to be here.”

“She will not come,” the grocer said.
“IT guess I will go.”

Andidero filled his pipe. The grocer
took a cigar from his pocket and a
match. He lit the match and held it
so Andidero could first light his pipe.
Then he lit his cigar.

“We started to walk out of the
park,” the grocer told the coroner.
His voice was growing weaker.
“Santo Andidero was just behind me.
I took a few steps. Then I heard a
shot. All at once there was pain in
the back of my head. I fell down.
Then\I staggered to a store., You
know the rest.”

“Don’t try to talk any more,’
coroner said.

The ‘surgeons began probing for
the bullet. sf

“We can’t get that out,” one of
them finally said. ‘‘It’s lodged in the
vertebrae.” \

In a whisper his associate suggested:
“We'll wait until the autopsy.”

But there never was ‘an autopsy.
DelGigante made a miraculous re-
covery. Surgeons said he wouldn't
live but he did. Meanwhile police
combed the city. for Andidero.

But after that night, June 18, 1924.
Andidero vanished as if the earth had
opened a jagged fissure and completely
swallowed him. Notices went out to

the

departments all over the United
States but detectives in other cities
found no one in their rounds that
even faintly resembled the descrip-
tion of Andidero.

A decade went by. Repeal came and
bootleg warfare ceased. I was named
an acting detective. Detectives Grieco
and ‘Grande who had conducted the
investigation of the DelGigante shoot-
ing retired on pension. The second
World War began. The name of
Andidero was completely forgotten
at police headquarters.

Then the postman dropped a letter
in the mail box of Theodore Schremp
at 12 Meeker Avenue, Utica, N.-Y.
When Schremp, a special agent for
the National Board of Fire Under-
writers, came home to supper he
glanced casually at the upper left
hand corner of the envelope and
noticed the communication was from
a special agent for the board who
operated in Pennsylvania. The name
was Robert Knight.

“Bob probably wants me to run
some errand for him up here,”
Schremp thought as: he calmly. slit
open the envelope.

The letter was dated March 11.
1942. It told of a man who had been
arrested by the Pennsylvania State
Police’ at Palo Alto. The man was
suspected of arson. He was badly

‘burned and might die. There were

four Utica addresses in his diary.
Would Schremp find out if the man
had a Utica background? The man’s
name was Andidero.

Schremp automatically stuffed
the letter in his pocket. Just another
routine investigation. He sat down
to his: evening meal. Mrs. Schremp
was passing him a cup of coffee when
suddenly he remembered.

“What's the matter, darling, arc
you ill?” his wife asked.

“Andidero,” he said. “Andidero!”

“Are you completely crazy?” His
spouse looked at him in alarm. “What
kind of language is that?’

Schremp paid her no heed. He was

thinking back to 1924 when he had
been Deputy Sheriff of Onieda County
and an Andidero had been indicted
following a shooting in which a bleed-
ing man had been left for dead in
Proctor Park. Could this be'the same
Andidero?
_ He put down his coffee and drove
hurriedly to police headquarters.
Then for weeks, by correspondence
and co-operative investigation by our
detective bureau, the Pennsylvania
State Police, special agents and _pri-
vate detectives, Schremp and his as-
sociates sought to piece together the
life of a man who had vanished nearly
two decades before.

Schremp learned of a private de-
tective, Harvey Smith, who remem-
bered a murder trial at Pottsville,
Pennsylvania, in 1927. The man


i J

chair, blood pouring from a wound in
his forehead and two in his chest. Two
restaurant employees were moving about
excitedly,

McDermott, a close friend of the
wounded man, knelt beside him. “What
happened, Charlie?” he asked.

Kemmer opened his eyes, which were
glazing rapidly. A look of recognition
appeared on his face, “Hudson—running

—slip,” was his disjointed answer, A.

moment later he slid off the chair to the
floor. 7
McDermott questioned the restaurant
workers, They identified themselves as
Clarence Heise, the chef, and Charles
Schneider, the porter, They said that
Kemmer had been shot by two men who
held them up.

The Lieutenant stared at the pair, “A

holdup here at seven-thirty in the morn-.

ing!” he exclaimed. “What could they
get?” :

“That’s just what I said to the rob-
bers,” Heise replied. He acted as spokes-
man.

He explained that he had been behind
the short-order counter getting the place
ready for the day’s business and
Schneider was fixing a fire in the old-
fashioned coal stove that heated the front

dining-room, when two men entered, ©

rubbing their hands and complaining of
the cold. s

He described both men as of average
build. One was in his twenties, some-
what heavier and taller than his older
companion. The younger man was wear-
ing a dark overcoat. He immediately
went to a rear washroom. The other
was dressed in a brown suit, a blue
overcoat with a velvet collar, and a light
tan felt hat that he wore at a jaunty
angle. 5

“What a night we had,” he said to the
chef. “My mouth tastes rotten.”

Heise replied that he was making fresh
coffee and a cup of it probably would fix
him up.

The man glanced around and saw his

companion emerge from the washroom. °

He turned to Heise again, but this time
he had a gun in his hand. “Never mind
the coffee,” he ordered. “Put up your
hands.”

“I thought he was kidding,” the chef
told McDermott. “I asked him, ‘What
can you get here?’”

Heise said the man stepped behind the

counter and jabbed him with the gun..

“Never mind the conversation. Put up
your hands or I’ll blow your brains

out.” The man’s voice was icily cold,.
The bandit ©

The chef said he obeyed.
then asked him where the safe was kept,

Heise replied that the restaurant did not ;

have any.
Prodded by the armed man, he locked

the door and pulled down the window © ’
and door blinds. The second man ordered =~

Schneider to stand in a corner and face

the wall. The armed man searched the te
chef and took $14 from his pockets and _
another $26, mainly in silver, from the
cash register, He also removed a small.
pearl and diamond stickpin the chef was...

wearing.

It was about this time that Kemmer

tried to open the outside door. Heise
said he recognized the Lieutenant’s voice
and gasped out his name.

“Shut up or I’ll let you have it,” the
armed man whispered. “I don’t care if
a cop is outside. I’d kill him just as quick
as look at him.”

The second bandit searched Schneider,
but when he only found a nickel in his
pockets, returned it, saying, ‘Keep it.
You probably need it more than I do.”

The bandits hurriedly shoved the two
employees into the small rear washroom,
hidden from the front by a partition.
The armed man pulled out a roll of pic-
ture wire and bound the workers to-
gether. ‘

Once again Heise heard the door rattle
and Lieutenant Kemmer’s voice call out.
The men in the washroom heard one of

‘the bandits reply, “I’m coming.” The

washroom ‘door was closed. Listening
intently, the trussed-up pair heard-the
click of the door bolt being released,
the mumbling of voices, the sound of a
scuffle and then the crashing of three
shots in rapid succession. .

Heise and Schneider struggled furi-
ously with their bonds. They succeeded
in loosening the-wire and hurried to the
front room, Kemmer, his clothes blood-
stained, was standing clutching at the
counter for support. Heise telephoned
the station house while Schneider placed
the Lieutenant in a chair.

By the time the chef had finished his
recital, word: came in from near-by
Wyckoff Heights Hospital to which Kem-
mer had been rushed, He had died be-
fore the doctors could operate. The
physicians recovered two of the bullets.
Both slugs were made of soft lead and
had ‘splintered in two. .

McDermott was tight-lipped as he re-

ceived the news. He knew Kemmer was

the father of two’ young children. He
glanced around ‘the room. The par-
tition was splintered near the door and
the rest had been wrenched loose from
the wall brackets. Two chairs and a coal
scuttle were overturned. On the floor
was a light tan hat.

The victim, Lieut. Kemmer. scribbled

one last cryptic clue before he died

Sisal nals as

“That’s the one worn by the fellow
with the gun,” Heise reported.

Detective Carter examined the hat.
It was a popular advertised brand and
the store label showed that it had been
purchased “in Chicago.

A box of cigars was on the floor in
front of the door. The chef said the box
had been alongside the cash register.
The hat and the cigar box were placed
on the counter to be examined for finger-
prints.

“Did Lieutenant Kemmer say anything
to you?” McDermott asked Schneider.
- The porter shook his head. “He just
moaned and sat down. He had a pencil
in his hand.” ‘

The squad commander exchanged
glances with his two detectives. “I don’t
get this stickup angle at all,” he said.
He repeated the dying words of his
friend. “Hudson—running—slip.” He
went outside. A trail of blood led from
the door almost to the curb.

He wrinkled his brow. Had he found
the answer to his friend’s cryptic words?
He returned to the restaurant and ques-
tioned the porter and the chef.

“How did the men get away?” he
asked, ;

Neither of the workers could answer
the question. It had taken them several
minutes to untie themselves. When they
emerged from the washroom, the bandits
were gone. There were several streetcar
lines within a few blocks of the res-
taurant as well as the B.M.T. subway line.

“I guess Kemmer was trying to tell me
that the men got away in a Hudson car,”
McDermott reasoned. “The bloodstains
lead almost to the curb. I don’t think he
shot either of the men. Heise and
Schneider heard three shots and he was
shot three times. His gun was still in his
holster. He must have followed them
out and saw them drive away.”

Detective Carter looked at the squad
commander. ‘How about the rest of it,
the words, ‘running’ and ‘slip’? Maybe
one of the men slipped and hurt himself
while running away.”

“Or he might have been referring to
unusual slip covers in the car,” Detec-
tive Weiler added.

The Lieutenant shook his head.
“Schneider said that Kemmer had a pen-
cil in his hand. He might have written
down the license number, Perhaps we'll
find a slip of paper that might send the
killers to the chair.”

A short time later McDermott’s theory
was partly confirmed. Patrolman Dough-
erty hurried in with a man who lived
around the corner from the restaurant.
“There was a Hudson coach parked on
the side street before the holdup,” he
reported. “This man saw it. “He says
no one was in the car and the motor
was running.”

The Lieutenant’s eyes glowed. The
men had been prepared for a quick get-
away. “Did you get the license number?”
he asked the witness.

The grizzled, retired cabinetmaker
stroked his chin. “I didn’t pay any at-
tention because it’s cold out and I
thought the owner left the motor run-
ning to keep the car from freezing.”

Police Commissioner J oseph A. Warren
and Queens County District Attorney
Richard S. Newcombe were among the

nis"... aw f
had trimm
surprise fo
tree lights
Commis:
Dermott is
search the
doned Hud
Zarages ar
asked to ¢
tectives or
taurants <
gathering
Schneider -
“This me
McDermott
Kemmer w
the killers.
The Polic
approval ai
left satisfiec
being done
An hour
meager evi
ough searct
cigar box «
tailed. “Not
Fingerpri
the cigar b
any prints.
bind Heise
variety obt:
There wa
citement wt
slip of pape
front partit
contained th
away car w:
on the pape
of initials w
side ~* h
it fo hi
slip p
Regardless
he had to b
partment tr:
police office:

Gun bat

mer who, i


orn by the fellow
reported.

xamined the hat.
ertised brand and
d that it had been

.

as on the floor in
e chef said the box
the cash register.

r box were placed -

<amined for finger-

mmer say anything

asked Schneider.
iis head. “He just
1. He had a pencil

jyander exchanged
detectives. “I don’t
le at all,” he said.
‘ing words of his

inning—slip.” He
1 of blood led from
the curb.

‘ow. Had he found
nd’s cryptic words?
sstaurant and ques-
1 the chef.

on get away?” he

rkers could answer
taken them several
aselves. When they
shroom, the bandits
everal streetcar
ks of the res-
.T, subway line.
vas trying to tell me
cy in a Hudson car,”
. “The bloodstains
irb. I don’t think he
men. Heise and
ee shots and he was
s gun was still in his
1ave followed them
rive away.”
looked at the squad
about the rest of it,
and ‘slip’? Maybe
ed and hurt himself
e been referring to
in the car,” Detec-

shook his head.
Kemmer had a pen-
might have written
mber. Perhaps we'll
that might send the

McDermott’s theory
i. Patrolman Dough-
th a man who lived
from the restaurant.
son coach parked on
ore the holdup,” he
an saw it. He says
- ear and the motor

eyes glowed. The
ared for a quick get-
the license number?”
SS.
etired cabinetmaker
I didn’t pay any at-
t’s cold out and I
left the motor run-
from freezing.”
Joseph A. Warren
District Attorney
nbe were among the

ans

officials who sped to the restaurant. Word:

was received that, just before leaving
his home for the station house, Kemmer
had trimmed the Christmas tree. As a
surprise for his pegescps hes. hes had left the
tree lights on.

Commissioner Waived listened as Mc-

Dermott issued orders detailing men: to
search the neighborhood for’ an aban- .

doned Hudson and sent others to search

garages and parking lots. Heise. was
asked to accompany one squad of de-~-

tectives on a tour of poolrooms, res-

taurants and taverns known ‘to be.

gathering places for criminals, while
Schneider was sent with another group,

“This means a lot to me,” Lieutenant
McDermott told the detectives. “Charlie

Kemmer was.my friend. We must get

the killers.”

The Police Commissioner noaded with
approval at the steps being taken, and
left satisfied that everything possible was
being done.

An hour later, McDermott studied. the
meager evidence. uncovered by ‘a’ thor-
ough search of the restaurant. “A hat, a

cigar box and a piece of wire,” he de-'
tailed. ‘“Not a great deal to work with.’.

Fingerprint experts dusted the hat and
the cigar box, but were unable to find
any prints. -The picture wire used to
bind Heise and Schneider was a cheap
variety obtainable in many stores.

There was a momentary flurry of ex-

citement when McDermott found a torn -
slip of paper among the debris near the’
front partition, but any hope that it~

contained the license number of the get-
away car was quickly dispelled. Written
on the paper were three different sets
of initials with a number jotted along-

side of each set. The Lieutenant studied —
it for a while, shrugged~and thrust the’

slip into a pocket.

Regardless of the lack of clues, he knew
he had to break the case. It was a De-
partment tradition that no killer of a
police officer ever escaped punishment.

He picked“ up the hat and inspected it .

carefully.’ “It’s a nationally sold brand

and was purchased in a store almost 1,000
miles from here,” he said to his fellow

sleuths. “There isn’t much chance, but

~ we'll wire to Chicago police to see if.

they can trace the buyer.”.

His men knew that he. was Jost ‘in
thought when they saw him take out a
pencil, and ‘‘doodle” boxes on a telephone
book lying on the counter. The point

of. the pencil broke with a sharp crack..
The Lieutenant stood staring at the
‘ Scrawled on the cover of the:
winter edition of ‘a Brooklyn telephone. .

counter.

directory was a license number. :

Kemmer had been clutching at the
bar when found by the chef and. porter.
Schneider had seen the pencil in his
hand. :

The. telebwone book passed from hand
to hand as the officers slowly studied the
almost illegible scrawl.

“The best I can make it is 6 N 5312, ae
McDermott said. .He turned to one of
the men. “Check the number with the
Motor Vehicle Bureau.”

The Lieutenant returned to his office
and reports slowly trickled in. No trace

_of the getaway car was found. Neither .

Heise nor Schneider:could spot the men

‘in any of the places visited by the detec-
tives.. They searched through. rogues’ .

gallery pictures without success: .
“I guess we were too excited to get
a‘good look at them,” the restaurant
workers admitted. ‘The place is dark
at that hour of the morning.”
Detective Harry ‘Whitton received a

report from the Motor Vehicle Bureau.
The plate number 6 N 5312 had been

registered for a Studebaker, but. the
owner had disposed of*his car. There
was no: record of: a new owner for the

‘plates.

The afternoon wore on, Detectives

sifted through underworld hangouts. The
daily papers had, blazoned the story of
the murder with banner headlines on

A Blane ee dletcanta se auntie teeeenrinaasant

#Gun battle in the restaurant (above) ended in death for Lieut. Kem-
mer who, in attempting to stop the holdup, walked into a murder trap

. discouraging.

the front page. Stool-pigeons were con-
tacted. A tip, an overheard word, might.
lead to the killers. The officers heard
guarded discussions of the crime, but the
identity of the murderers remained un-
known.

, Chicago police wired back that it was

- impossible to trace the owner of-the hat.

The store kept no record of cash pur-
chases. The picture wire was.examined
under the microscope, but the report was
The same kind of wire
was on sale in thousands of hardware
and variety stores in New York City.

'At four o’clock that afternoon an iden-
tical scene was duplicated in every sta-
tion house in the city. Patrolmen who
had been working since eight o’clock
‘were going off duty. A message from the
Commissioner’s office, was read to the
men reporting for duty. The getaway
car had to be located before midnight.
A telltale clue might have been left by
the bandits.

_Forty-five minutes later Patrolman
James W. Hibbard, of Traffic A, was on
post at the corner of Franklin and Hud-
son Streets in Manhattan when. he no-
ticed a Hudson driving up the street.
He glanced at the license number, and
seconds later other motorists jammed on
their brakes as he dashed through the
street brandishing his revolver. He
leaped on the running-board of the Hud-
son, which was rolling along sedately in
a line of traffic. A young couple sat in
the front seat of the machine. The car
bore the license number 6 N 5312.

Hibbard ordered the driver to the sta-
tion house and a call was put in for
Lieutenant McDermott. In the mean-
tine, the precinct detectives questioned
the driver.

‘The man identified himself as Edward
R. Byrne, twenty-four, a resident of
Brooklyn. The girl was Dorothy Slade,
his fiancée. ‘

He presented proof of his identity and
handed over a registration certificate
showing that he recently had purchased
the car and the plates belonged to him.
The transfer records had not yet been
placed on the permanent file at the Motor
Vehicle Bureau.

“What is this all about?” he asked.

“Where were you between seven and
eight o’clock this morning?”

“Sleeping,” was his answer. ‘I didn’t
get up until late today.”

Lieutenant McDermott arrived with
five of his men and took over the ques-
tioning. Byrne paled as he was told that
he was suspected of taking part in the
killing of Kemmer.

“You must have gotten the wrong li-
cense number,” he said. “I was in bed

_at the time.”

He readily answered all questions put
to him by the Lieutenant. He accounted
for his time from the previous evening
until he was stopped by Patrolman
Hibbard.

“You say you got up at eleven this
morning. Do you have any proof?”

Byrne slowly shook his head. He
stopped and then his face brightened.
“In a way I can prove it,” he said.
“I can show I got home late, or rather
early this morning. I left my girl’s home
some time after midnight. We had been
addressing (Continued on page 99)


”

ls
come, then, that

2s in the Smrekar

Ww,

‘ht for a moment.

dw. Matt finished

orrowed some Im-

know,” said the
9%

his chum had left
eight o’clock that
going out in the
d with Tom Potter
‘I figured he went

nmate, the investi-
er farm five miles
Jancigaj, dark and
a small mustache,
jenied the slaying.
‘n Mary for weeks,
nsidered her other
med never to have

se, he maintained
e until the hard-
m as the revolver
2 said that he was
eeing the shooting

tted the crime. He
e pretty girl while
dut she refused to
ven after he and
» attempted to win
tinued to treat him

d that she and
ving secret dates.
decided that if he
one else would,

1e thought was a
hased the revolver
On the night he
saw to it that his
whisky to put him

snoring loudly, the
d and dressed. He
observed and cut
‘ar home. As the
ed, he hid in the
ige for some time,
‘ter another, until
trellis.

ran through the
~ to the Willamette
‘ew the gun, then
arding house and

as aware that he

od a feeling of re-
ttitude of the 26-
it of remorse was
face.
d it pretty well,”
“It might have
t worn your work
ks on them.”
rse, absolved Rex
was released from
oad frightened re-
t against him.
nas County Grand
08, for first-degree
‘an went to trial a
er 17th, the jury,
eliberation, found
h no recommenda-

sentenced him to
‘as not set because
ippeal to the State
dy, however, up-
igaj] was executed
ry in Salem on

(Continued from page 9) Christmas cards.
After that I dropped into a restaurant and
sat around talking about the horses; with
some of the fellows. :

“When I got home, I parked the car in
front of the house, but while I was walking
up the steps the cop on post came up and
told me that there had been complaints
about overnight parking. He suggested that
I leave the car around the corner, which I
did. I had a date with my fiancée for noon,
but because I got up late I telephoned her
and changed it to four o’clock.”

Byrne said he met Miss Slade at Myrtle
Avenue and Bridge Street and drove to a
pawnshop in Greenpoint.

McDermott stirred. “Pawnshop? What
were you trying to hock?”

“I wasn’t selling anything,” Byrne ex-
plained. ‘I am getting Dorothy her engage-
ment ring as a Christmas present. A friend
told me he saw a good buy in that pawnshop,
so we went there to look at it. I didn’t
like the ring. We were on our way to sev-
eral regular jewelry stores on Nassau Street
when the officer stopped us.”

Byrne said that he was an. elevator
mechanic, but was not working at the
present time.

“Then how can you buy your girl friend
a diamond ring?” the Lieutenant questioned.

“A friend of mine is loaning me the money.
I quit my last job to take a rest for a while.
I’m no long-shot as a credit risk. If I say
so myself, I’m a pretty good mechanic and
T’ll have no trouble landing a job right after
New Year’s. It’s a pretty sure thing I’ll be
able to pay the money back in a hurry.”

Byrne left the room and Miss Slade was
brought in for questioning. She was an at-
tractive, brown-eyed girl. She confirmed his
statements. He had telephoned her shortly
before noon, saying that he had overslept
and could not meet her in time. She blushed
as she admitted that they were looking for a
ring. °

“Now that we are going to get married he
is going to work steady and save his money,”
she said earnestly.

At the Lieutenant’s orders, Detectives
Whitton, Thomas Devery, John A. Hurton
and Herman D. Grabau went to Byrne’s
home neighborhood and canvassed neigh-
bors, friends and storekeepers. The officers
found that Byrne lived quietly at home with
his parents.

“He seems to have
a lot of money for a
fellow without a
job,” a counterman
told the officers.

“Why not?” one of
the men sitting in
the restaurant re-
plied. “He’s no fool.”

“What do you
mean?” asked De-
tective Whitton.

“He must have
had some money

on MURDER PARLAY

NNUAL

TO ALL STATE

AND POLICE
OFFICIALS

much with the boys?”

“Not as much as he once did. He’s going
steady with a nice girl and I suppose he sees
more of her friends. You know how those
things are.”

The detectives questioned every resident
on the street on which Byrne lived and also
on the block where he had parked his ma-
chine. No one had seen him on the street
during the morning.

“I saw him get into his car about one
o’clock this afternoon,” a woman volun-
teered. This was the time Byrne said he had
left his home. The officer who told him to
park around the corner confirmed that the
incident occurred after 1 a. M.

The officers questioned Miss Slade’s neigh-
bors, but learned nothing beyond that Byrne
was a fairly steady caller at her home.

“It looks like a clean bill of health for
him,” the officers reported back to McDer-
mott. He listened thoughtfully to their in-
dividual reports and reviewed the facts.

Where did Byrne fit into the picture? His
girl friend lived in Glendale and he was
reasonably familiar with the general neigh-
borhood where the crime occurred. The car
puzzled the Lieutenant. While it was pos-
sible that Kemmer, mortally wounded and
in severe pain, could have written down the
wrong number, the fact that the make of
the auto, the body model and the license
numbers all tallied seemed to rule out the
possibility of coincidence. It probably was
Byrne’s car.

Byrne said that his machine had been out
on the street, unlocked, for almost twelve
hours. The killers could have stolen it.
Stickup men usually do. . The Lieutenant
shook his head. Why should they bring the
car back?

He felt that Miss Slade had told him the
truth. She was a young girl deeply in love.
Byrne’s efforts to appear at ease had been
a trifle forced, but that meant little. Mc-
Dermott knew only too well that most per-
sons are unable to act naturally when inter-
rogated by police. It hardly seemed likely
that Byrne would be riding around in the
car several hours after the shooting, when
the normal reaction of a killer is to keep out
of sight.

The few clues were petering out—the hat,
the picture wire and now the car. The odds
were piling up against finding the killers.

McDermott gave
voice to his last
thought. He sucked
in his breath: and
summoned Byrne
into his office.

“When you got
into your car today,
was it parked in the
same spot you left it
overnight?”

The man started,
and then exclaimed,
“That’s right, I never
thought of it! I left

»

saved up when he
quit his job, and he
knows how to earn
a dollar,” the other
replied. “I’ll bet he
made a few hun-
dred a couple of
months ago. Some
new bookmaker
started up around
here and Byrne
asked us to give him
our play. The bookie
must have given him
something for his
help.”

“Does he hang out

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it in front of a tree
and when I’ went
to get it this after-
noon it was farther
down the block. I
didn’t pay attention
to it because I
thought somebody
had pushed it in
backing out.”

He was asked if
he had ever loaned
his car to friends.
He replied that a
few of his friends
had borrowed it.

“Any of them keep

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his remarkable discovery,’| his car. He was go-

the spare key?”

“IT only have one set of Salat was his
reply.

McDermott paused and glanced out of
the window. He asked, “Anybody move
around your neighborhood recently from
Chicago?”

Byrne looked at him, puzzled. “Not that
I know of. Has that got anything to do with
this?”

The Lieutenant handed him the light tan
hat. “Look it over and see if you recognize
it. ”

Byrne Gadahilied the hat and gave it back.
He shook his head. This time McDermott

pulled out the torn slip of paper he had

found in the restaurant.
this?” he queried.

The other man again shook his head. The
Lieutenant slumped back in his chair and
drew boxes on a piece of paper. Byrne sat
and wrinkled his brow in thought.

“Maybe this is something,” he said slowly.
“It’s a strange thing that you should ask
me if I loaned the car to anybody and then
ask about Chicago. Johnny Mason borrowed
the car twice from me and went to Chicago
a couple of months ago. He came back
several weeks later. Said he was .ooxing
for some kind of job.”

“What does he do for a living?”

Byrne jerked up his head. “He’s a me-
chanic,” he said, and then hesitated.

“He could have had a spare set of keys
made,” McDermott suggested.

Byrne nodded.

The Lieutenant smiled. “I’ve played a
long-shot and it looks as if I might win.”

“T like to play long-shots,” the other
admitted. “You always clean up if you hit
it lucky.”

Detective Whitton listened intently as
Byrne described Mason. “He hangs out in
a lunch wagon in my neighborhood. and
usually looks as if he needs a shave.”

Whitton went to the address furnished
by Byrne. It was a rooming house. The
landlady said Mason was out. The detective
inquired at the lunch wagon. “Haven’t seen
Johnny since yesterday when he went out
job hunting,” he was told.

“T think I might have a job for him,”
Whitton said. “Do you know where he
might be?”

The man behind the counter adjusted his
soiled apron. “Mister, he sure can use a
job, but your guess where he is would be
as good as mine.”

The detective inquired at garages, service
stations and repair
shops, but Mason
was not around.
Whitton returned to
the rooming house
and questioned the
landlady.

“I. saw him early
this morning,” she
revealed. “It was an
unusual time for
him, before seven
o’clock.' He hasn’t
returned since. One
of his friends came
around this after-
noon,and asked for
him. Said Johnny
had promised to fix

“Make anything of

ing to pay for the
work, but Johnny
never showed up.
That isn’t like him.”

Whitton relayed
the information to
his superior officer.

“That's what I
thought,” McDer-
mott told him. “Keep
plugging.”

The detective went

“With that pony of brandy let me have a
slice of plum pudding!" ler,”

back to the rooming house to search
Mason’s room. The landlady met him at
the door. “Johnny’s upstairs now packing
his bag,” she whispered. “He told me he
was leaving town for several days on
business.”

Whitton sprinted up the steps and burst
into Mason’s room. A dark-haired, blue-
jowled man looked up in surprise, and then
stepped back in alarm.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Whitton flashed his badge and pointed to
a half-packed suitcase. “You seem to be
leaving town in a hurry,” he commented.

Mason stared at the detective. “It’s on
business, but what difference does that make
to you?”

“Where were you between seven and
eight o’clock this morning?”

“What are you trying to pin on me?” the
other demanded.

At the station house, Mason persisted in
his refusal to answer any questions until he
was told why he was being questioned.

“Chicago police have asked us to talk to
you about your recent trip there,’ he was
told.

“You’re joking,” he answered.
was in Chicago.”

“Your friend, Byrne, said you were there
several months ago.”

Mason ran a hand through his hair. ‘“He’s
wrong. I went to Buffalo to try to get a
job. I sent him a picture postcard of
Niagara Falls and told him I might go to
Chicago, but I never did.”

McDermott’s voice was serious. “A po-
lice lieutenant was shot and killed while
trying to prevent a holdup. If you have an
alibi for that time you had better talk fast.”

Mason stared truculently at the Lieu-
tenant. “But where do I come in? I never
was locked up. I never did anything.”

“Just a set of curious coincidences,” he
was told. “We believe Byrne’s car was used.
You know of his habit of sleeping late. You
left your home unusually early and in plenty
of time to have pulled the job. The car was
brought back. This means that the killer
comes from your neighborhood. Now you
are packing to leave town.”

The young man smiled as he heard the
recital. “I have an alibi,” he said. “I just
started working this morning as a mechanic
with a large truck freighting outfit. They
have an emergency repair shop some place
in Pennsylvania. One of the men there is
taking a week off to go home for Christmas.
I am _ being sent
there to take his
place.”

Mason said he did
not know where the
shop was located. A
clerk from the cen-
tral office was to
meet him at the
information desk at
Grand Central with
a ticket and all in-
formation for him.

“Perhaps that
long-shot isn’t pay-
ing off,” one of the
detectives told the
squad commander.

McDermott smiled.
“Did you ever play
the horses?’’ he
asked Mason.

The mechanic
laughed. “Sure, but
you can’t lock me up
for that. Or can
you?”

“Do you know the
bookie Byrne intro-
duced around?”

“Yes, George Mil-
he replied.

“T never

“What do you

The other shi
very little. He
several times ar
front of the hor
was very friend)
advanced him t
Hudson.

McDermott he
of paper he hac
“What's this?” h

“A piece of pz
numbers on it,”

“Did you ever
offered.

Mason sat up:
right. This cou!
off sheet.”

He was taken
alibi was checke
McDermott
“Bring in Miller
returned to Bro
on Stuyvesant
he had driven *

“Where is Mi
very asked the

“T have no \
plied.

“Did someon
months ago?”

“Oh, that’s G
“His room is on

The officers s
flights and Dev:
door. A hawk-
stood in the ce:
stepped back ti
dove for the pi
same time and
Under the pillo:

The detective
suitcase, Hurtc
picture wire.
and diamond 1
They telephone

“Bring in By
directed an off

“How did you
eagerly as he «

“We've crack
responded the

Byrne smilec
it.”

“T’m placing >
der of Lieute:
continued.

The color dr:
“What do youn
voice.

“You were tc
the Lieutenant
had dropped i
the jargon fan
Dermott had fe
he found in
from someone’s

but the paper 7
He began to :
payoff sheet a
have recognize
pect played du:
erately sugges
might have bee
confirmed whe
and told the
moved from th

“When I he:
house early I
mott continuec
leave, because
on your way *
pull the sticku
not know that
working and 1

“You have :
sisted.

“Miller is
Lieutenant tol

Byrne flinch
“IT didn’t shoc


{ter five o’clock
, 12th, 1948, an
y song writers
of early morn.
1 myth in New
at five o’clock
yu can hear the
es, the hum of
macadam, and
feet pounding
wn on the side-
their day rush-
others, slower,
urn home after
iry. That hour
ilse dawn when
in the strange
-edes the emer-
un.
ilert during this
1eir beats. Ex-
t it is a favorite
o can creep up
and melt away
ry cover. This is
ertain parts of
a crime-ridden

hour that Radio

and George Cal-
1 Street Precinct
streets in their
for any unusual

2

“A dress belt is a strange murder

weapon.” remarked inspector after

police found victim (arrow) in cab

signs. Their machine proceeded up 108th
Street and Officer Holden noticed a taxi-
cab, with its lights on, parked near Fifth

. Avenue. The machine was in front of a

vacant lot and the faint outlines of the
driver in front could be seen. There

. were no signs of any passengers, and no

pedestrians were on the street at this
point. On the opposite side of Fifth
Avenue was walled-in Central Park.

The taxi’s motor was shut off.

“That’s a funny spot for a hackie to
park waiting for fares,” Holden re-
marked to his partner. “Cover me while
I go over and investigate.”

It had been a hot summer’s night and
the windows of the taxi were open. When
Holden neared the parked machine he
noticed that the driver’s head was
stretched back as if he had fallen asleep.

Holden poked his head into the ma-
chine to talk to him, and stiffened. The

hackie was not in his seat. Instead, his
legs were thrust out awkwardly, his
back was arched, and his head extended
partly into the rear passenger section.
Stretched taut about the man’s neck was
a piece of green floral print material
from a woman’s dress. The driver was
dead, garroted by the green cloth.

The radio officer backed away from
the taxi without touching anything. He
called to his partner to stand guard
while he ran to a police signal box,
a block away, and flashed the news to
the sergeant on duty at the stationhouse
monitor board.

The call set into motion the incredibly
swift machinery of the New York Police
Department. The operators in the
trouble turret at headquarters made
simultaneous announcements ‘to various
officials. Deputy Chief Inspector Conrad
H. Rothengast, commanding officer of

by Edward Radin

No case in the entire history of New York City had ever

been solved by a palmprint. Yet solving this murder meant

tracing that clue to one person in more than seven million

sqawie Seo aaa eames he

all detectives in the eastern half of
Manhattan, was routed out of bed. So
was Deputy Chief Medical Examiner
Dr. Benjamin Vance. Assistant District
Attorney Karl Grebow on homicide duty
for the prosecutor’s office was notified.

An ambulance was dispatched from
the nearest hospital. Two floors in the
annex across the street from head-
quarters came to sudden life. A photog-
rapher from the gallery gathered his
equipment and left to film the scene as

_it actually looked.

On the floor above, the telephone call
sent a group of young college-trained
scientists racing down the elevator to
a large green-and-white truck, the
famous mobile laboratory of the depart-
ment. Men and equipment began con-
verging on the scene. Detective George
Maurer was dispatched from the East
104th Street Squad, and Detective Ed-
ward J. Shields from the Manhattan
East Homicide Squad. The latter two,
each detective with more than twenty
years’ experience to his credit, were
assigned to the case.

Within thirty minutes the once quiet
corner was the scene of bustling ac-
tivity. An Emergency Squad crew had
set up powerful lights, chasing away
any traces of darkness from the area,
and uniformed men were searching the

43


~\

Aekson) 4#“~¢/V fOr?

42

- 4 \

a

Wig Chawher

The victim, Michael Myrphy, was a devoted family man, and to provide
for his wife and children (above) he worked at two jobs, one of
which led to his death—for $19—at the hands of ruthless murderers

of bine J

|: WAS a few minutes after five o’clock
on Sunday morning, July 12th, 1948, an
hour usually described by song writers
as filled with the hush of early morn.

Such a description is a myth in New
York City where even at five o’clock
on a Sunday morning you can hear the
whine of lumbering buses, the hum of
taxi tires speeding over macadam, and
the footfalls of restless feet pounding
out a cadence of their own on the side-
walks, some just starting their day rush-
ing toward subways, others, slower,
heralding the weary return home after
a night of labor: or revelry. That hour
also is the time of the false dawn when
everything is enveloped in the strange
gray half-light that precedes the emer-
gence of the morning sun.

Police are especially alert during this
period as they patrol their beats. Ex-
perience has shown that it is a favorite
time with footpads who can creep up
unseen on their victim and melt away
under the protecting gray cover. This is
particularly true in certain parts of
upper Manhattan, long a crime-ridden
area.

Patrolmen John Holden and George Cal-
laghan of the East 104th Street Precinct
began criss-crossing streets in their
prowl car, peering out for any unusual

It was in this ghostly hour that Radio

signs. The
» Street and
cab, with it
Avenue.
vacant lot
driver in
- were no si
pedestrian
point. O
Avenue
The taxi’s
“That’s ;
park wait
marked to
I go ove:
It had b
the windo.
Holden ne
noticed tt
stretched |
Holden
chine to t

No ca:
been s

tracin;:

ar 86 oe i ms

44

Clever strategy used by Asst. D. A. Karl
Grebow (above) produced the vital in-

formation needed to solve the case

streets and sewers for possible leads.
The wailing sirens of approaching cars
had awakened some residents in a
near-by apartment house and they were
looking out of windows down at the
scene below. Those still asleep were
aroused later by detectives assigned to
the task of locating any witnesses who
had seen or heard anything unusual
during the night.

The technical men went about their
tasks while the others waited. As soon
as the photographer completed snapping
pictures, the laboratory experts took
over. A special filter vacuum cleaner
was applied to, the interior of the cab
to pick up any hairs or unusual dust.
Detective James Osterburg, the identifi-
tions expert of the Technical Research
Laboratory, began a search for finger-
prints. Since the exterior of the taxi
was painted a bright yellow, he selected
a black powder and applied it with an
ostrich brush. He paused now and then
to inspect various smudges and photo-
graph them with a special camera. The
officer carefully brushed some powder
on the right rear door above the handle
where a passenger would naturally rest
his hand on entering, particularly when
the window is rolled down. As he did
so a large smudged area began to
show up. .

Inspector Rothengast leaned forward
interested. ‘Got something there?” he
inquired.

The specialist studied the smudge.
“T,ooks as if part of a palmprint came
up,” he replied. His special camera
went into action again, recording every
line and whorl brought out by the
powder.

The silence with which his announce-
ment was greeted reflected the disap-
pointment of the officers. Although Cap-
tain Edward Fagan, youthful head of
the Technical Research Laboratory, re-
quired his men to process through any
palmprints found at the scene of a
crime, detectives had little faith in

SH ZZ,
Gees
RVAGUALLNA NS LANE ee tN 4% i \ MH f

NN
C\CAWAN AAA abe

Bak \ vai An

“For the first time, a palmprint has paid off in New York,” reported identifica-

tion expert, on making comparison of palmprint (left) found on taxi, with that
(right) taken from suspect. “I found 22 identical characteristics,” he added

them as clues, and with good reason,
since no case in the entire history of
New York City had ever been solved
by a palmprint. In fact; very few cases
_throughout the country have been solved
by such prints. While palmprints, like
fingerprints, do differ for each person,
they have not been classified or col-
lected. With no central file against

which to check’ suspected prints, it-

meant that police had to find the one
person’ who had made the print out
of New York’s millions in order to make
a comparison.

The identification expert soon com-
pleted dusting the exterior of the cab
and then used a white powder on the
windows without bringing up any usable
prints.

As soon as the laboratory men had
finished their tasks, the Medical Ex-
aminer examined the body. Dr. Vance
removed the piece of green floral cloth.
It was a belt from a woman’s dress that
had been folded double about the throat
and left a depression almost a half-
inch deep in the flesh. ‘That belt had
to be held very tight for a long period
of time to bite into the neck that way,”
the physician said. He tested the body
for signs of rigor mortis. “He’s been
dead from one to two hours,” Dr. Vance
told the officers. .

The victim’s pockets had been turned
inside out and his wallet was missing.
Two dimes were on the floor of the
cab near the body. The taxi meter was
jammed so it no longer was operating
but the clock had $7.45 registered on it.
“J.ooks like they took him on a Cook’s
tour of the city before killing him,”
Detective Maurer commented.

The canvass of the residents on the’

block failed to produce any witnesses
who had seen the taxi parked there be-
fore they went to bed. As far as could
be ascertained, there had been no calls
or shouts for help during’ the night.

‘Inspector Rothengast was worried

about the absence of clues. “This is the .

second murder of a hackie within a
month,” he pointed out. “A chap named
William Willis was found in his cab
at Fifth Avenue and 129th Street, which
is just about a mile from here.” He
glanced at the dress belt. “The last one
was shot, though. A woman’s belt is a
strange murder weapon for somebody
to be carrying around with him.”

‘Not if that somebody was a woman
and she was wearing it in the cab,” De-
tective Shields. said.

The victim was identified by the
driver’s card in the passenger compart-
ment as Michael Bernard Murphy. This

| Vietim’s cry

' murder,” ag

was confirm
owner of the
to the scen
» raised the |
| been killed
“Maybe s
»» him and us
. had some :
-. the detecti:
The hack

» Murphy,” |
that the m
ularly emp
' thé father
“a devoted

oo

‘

STRANGE
EVIDENCE

Rvivence in criminal cases some-
times takes the strangest forms.
For example, a man in Sydney,
Australia, was charged with assault
when police found the evidence in
his coat pocket—his father-in-law’s
left ear!

A few years ago investigation of
a burglary in Portland, Maine, re-
vealed that the intruder had
sampled some cheese and left the
imprint of his teeth. In court a
dentist testified that the tooth
prints tallied with those of a
thirteen-year-old suspect. The boy
confessed. .

Several recent cases have indi-
cated that successful thieves will
have to be more careful about
their biting habits. Last year in

scene above.


“
aR:

se nine

EF

270 New York History

pects, and also his future hopes; he was heartless, hopeless,
and gloomy in the extreme. Incapable of receiving any en-
couraging hope; a groan accompanied every word, and his
poor wife wept aloud! I looked at my companion, and her
countenance was softened down, it had -entirely lost that
stern, rigid expression of revenge which it had uniformly
worn, when speaking of him, and exhibited nothing but sen-
sibility and compassion, while tears trembled in both eyes.
This was as I would have it. I strove, as well as I couid, to
administer a ray of comfort to the wretched man, and his
weeping wife, and bade them farewell. When we had left
the jail, 1 said to my wife, do you want to see Arnold hung.
‘No,’ she said, bursting into tears, “he has suffered enough; I
wish they would let him go.’ And true it was: although his
cruelty to the child was unparalleled, and savage in the ex-
treme, yet the intensity of his sufferings in twenty-four hours
was inexpressibly and immeasurably beyond all that the child
could have endured. But the legislature did, contrary to his
expectations then, commute his punishment, and sent him
to the penitentiary, where he closed his life.

a } } 7 1 Pay . arti a+ “A t

For those interested in the principal sources for this article, the accounts
in the Otsego Herald, The Trial and the Confession, have been photographed
and facsimiles are available through The Farmers’ Museum Shop.

lin Huntington’s.Old Time Notes (vol. 4, p. 1225 et seq. typescript)

there are various papers submitted to Governor Morgan Lewis in support of
: a = oe r td ie se

licati for a reprieve. Among these is “Judge Kent’s original notes
an application pries g. ig ae
of the trial.” There are a few very minor differences between this and the
published account, notabiv in the testimony of Sally Adams. Included are
Phinney’s letter to the Governor and Arnold’s petition to the legislator
quoted hereafter. Huntington quoted this material from The Historica
Magazine, November 1870. pp. 299-301. . pee as
“2 Birdsall, in The Story of Cooperstown, reports that a “‘palsied crone,

who had come to the hanging equipped with a rocking chair, at this poimt.

rocked off a platform and broke her neck. | have never found his source or
this detail but it may be in the William Cooper papers to which Birdsa
had access.

Pama ee

ee er re ee Teen

FEDERAL CONFLICT OF INTEREST: THE
A. T. STEWART CASE

A Century-old Episode With Current Implications

HarRyY E. RESSEGUIE*
ONFLICT of interest, a perennial problem at all levels
of government, has become particularly acute in the
Federal service as American business has become more
complex and the interests of individual business and pro-
fessional men more diversified. It is today one of the most
serious obstacles preventing the Federal government from
obtaining the services of men who are best qualified to serve
in important positions in the executive branch of the ZOv-
ernment, or to advise those holding such posts.' Consequent-
ly, major changes have recently been made in the Federal
conflict of interest laws, and more are contemplated.
For this reason the failure of Alexander ‘Turney Stewart

~ to qualify tor the post of Secretary o£ the ‘Treasury in Grant’s

first Cabinet has modern significance, although it occurred
nearly a céntury ago.

This incident usually is dismissed in most histories of the
period as a very simple case: Section 8 of the Act of Sept. 2,
1789, the organic act establishing the Treasury Department,
prohibits any one engaged in importing (among other speci-
fied occupations) from heading the Treasury; and Stewart
was the nation’s leading importer.

Research into the dramatic circumstances surrounding the
episode, however, indicates that ‘the legal prohibition was
only one of the elements which combined to make it im-

possible for Stewart to qualify for the post; and that the law

was interpreted more strictly in his case than it had been
* Mr. Resseguic, a retired hewspaperman, was for fifteen years chief of
the Washington burcau of Fairchild Publications of New York. In recent

years he has been working on a biography of A. T. Stewart and a history of
the early days of the department store.

271


MURDER ONE [ 202

matter if arsenic was found in Ada’s body, they would have a
hard time proving it had come from any of us, because nobody
could say that we did it, and Ada had been in the hospital.

“Fe also told me there was a certain amount of arsenic found
in every human body, and even if there was a little more in Ada
they could not pin it on anybody in our house.”

It was quickly demonstrated that this version was completely
inaccurate. A check at the pharmacy, for instance, established
beyond doubt that Mary Creighton had purchased the rat poison,
not Appelgate.

The next day an assistant district attorney accompanied by
a detective and a stenographer had obtained from Mary the
second version of the “truth.”

Q. I’d like to ask you some questions with regard to the death
of Ada Appelgate. Are you able to answer them?

A. I guess I am.

Q. First, when did you first have relations with Mr. Appelgate?

A. I guess it was last January.

OQ. Where?

A. In my house.

Q. Will you describe what happened?

A. He tried to become familiar. I resisted and he did not
succeed.

Q. You had relations with him later?

A. Yes, from January, 1935, up until June 22, 1935.

Q. Mr. Appelgate said he loved you?

A. Yes:

Q. Mr. Appelgate admitted he had relations with your fifteen-
year-old daughter, Ruth?

A. Yes, he did.

Q. When he told you that, what did you say to him?

A. I asked him if he didn’t think it was bad enough to be

203 ] Poison and Pedophilia

carrying on with me without doing a thing like that to a child.
I told him if her father found out he would kill him.

QO. Did he say what his feelings toward Ruth were?

A. Yes, he said he loved her. He said she was fonder of him
than she was of her father.

Q. What did you tell him?

A. I said you’d better not let her father know. He said John
wouldn’t know. He said John wouldn’t know unless I told him
because he wouldn’t tell and Ruthie wouldn’t tell. I told him
not to come near me again.

Q. Did you caution Ruth against going out with Appelgate?

A. Yes.

Q. But you permitted her to sleep with him on several oc-
casions?

A. Yes, when the house was crowded.

Q. Information came to you that Mrs. Appelgate was talking
about Ruth?

A. Yes.

Q. Did you talk to Mrs. Appelgate about this?

A. Yes.

Q. Did Mrs. Appelgate know of your relations with Appel-
gate?

A. Yes, she did.

Q. How did she find out?

A. Through her daughter, Agnes.

Q. How did Agnes know about your actions with Appelgate?

A. She found out from Ruth and told her mother.

Q. You heard that Mrs. Appelgate was circulating rumors
about Ruth and Mr. Appelgate. What did you do?

A. I told her it was a terrible thing to do. I said she had a
daughter of her own and I didn’t talk about her daughter.

Q. What were your feelings for her?

ssn teensmat retatansanian Bictaci ssa

ee sewenittinane epistles


MURDER ONE [ 208

Q. How old are you?
A. Sixteen.
Q. Before the Appelgates came to your home, did you know
the Appelgates’ daughter?
Yes.
- Did you go to school together?
Yes.
. Was Agnes a visitor at your house?
Yes.
. Was that before Appelgate came to live with you?
Before.
. You were good friends?
Yes.
. The district attorney questioned you, didn’t he?
res,
And you remember me first calling on you?
. Yes. (Sobbing)
- You told me about relations you had with Mr. Appelgate?
Yes.
. When did you first have something to do with him—im-
proper relations?
A. It was at his home.
Q. How long was it before he came to live at your home?
A. I don’t remember.
Q. The Appelgates came to your home in November, 1934, to
live?
A. Yes.
Q. After this thing occurred, did you tell your mother about
it?
A. No, I didn’t.
Q. Did the relationship occur again?
A. Yes.

A,
Q
A.
Q
A.
Q
A.
Q
A.
Q
A.
Q.
A
Q
A.
Q

209 ] Poison and Pedophilia

Q. Did it occur again before they came to live with you?

A. Yes, several times.

Q. Did you tell your father?

A. No.

Q. You loved your father, didn’t you?

A. Yes, Ido.

Q. Before this probe started, did you tell your mother of your
wrongdoing with Appelgate at any time?

A. No.

Q. When did you first tell and whom?

A. Mr. Littleton.

Q. You understood the district attorney told your mother of
these matters? He questioned your mother and asked if she knew
of your improper relations and your mother said no.

A. Yes.

Q. Did you say: “Mother, you knew all about it?”

A. No, I didn’t.

Q. Your mother never knew of any improper relations you
had?

A. No, not to my knowledge.

Q. Did Mr. Appelgate have improper relations with you after
they came to the house?

A. Yes.

Q. How long after he came?

A. Soon after.

Q. Where in the house?

A. It happened outside the house, in his automobile.

Q. Mr. Appelgate took both you and Agnes with him in his
car? :

A. Yes, but she wasn’t there then.

Q. Did Appelgate have several relations with you in your own
home?
A. Yes.


MURDER ONE [ 204

A. I felt she talked too much. You can’t blame me for that.
Q. You made a purchase in a drugstore sometime on Septem-

ber 11 Or 12, 1935.

A. Yes.

Q. Tell me what you bought.

A. I asked for some rat powder.

Q. How much did you pay for it?

A. Twenty-three cents.

Q. What did you do with it?

A. Brought it home.

QO. Mr. Appelgate didn’t know you bought it?

A. No. I was pretty tired of the way he was carrying on with
Ruth and the way that his wife was talking. I decided to do an
injustice to Mrs. Appelgate. It was an impulse I really regret.

Q. What do you mean, injustice?

A. I decided to give her poison in her food. I put the poison
in the kitchen closet on a shelf.

Q. When was the first time you put the poison in her food?

A. I don’t remember.

Q. You previously told me you administered the first dose
on the twelfth.

A. I guess that was right.

Q. By putting it in a cup of coffee?

A. Yes.

Q. How did you give her the second dose?

A. I put it in a cup of coffee.

Q. When was the next time you gave her poison?

A. Thursday, September 19.

Q. How did you administer the poison to Mrs. Appelgate?
A. In coffee junket.

Q. How much did you give her?

A. Idon’t know—about a quarter of a teaspoonful.

205 ] Poison and Pedophilia

Q. What took place on Thursday, September 19?

nl

OPI PIOPIO PEW PIO PIO PI PIO P10 Pl BO PIO PIO D>

. She said she was miserable, sick.

. Was the doctor called?

Yes.

. Who called him?

Mr. Appelgate.

. What did he say?

He said send her to the hospital.

. Did she go to the hospital?

Yes. On the twenty-first.

. You visited her twice daily?

Yes.

. Did you give her any rat powder in the hospital?

No.

. You didn’t attempt it there?

No.

F a Appelgate was discharged on September 25?
es.

. Youand Appelgate took her home?

Yes.

. Did you administer any rat poison to Mrs. Appelgate that

t?

Yes. I put some in the milk.
How much?

About the same as before.

. You previously stated the rat poison was put in an eggnog?
. That’s right.

. Who made the eggnog?

. Mr. Appelgate.

. Mr. Appelgate had no knowledge of your putting rat

poison in the eggnog?
A. No.


MURDER ONE [ 206

Q. Did you give her any more poison later that night?
A. In the eggnog Appelgate gave her that night at eleven-
thirty.
Q. You mixed the whole eggnog?
A. No, I handed the things to him.
Q. Where did you put the rat powder?
A. Inthe dry part.
Q. You mean with the sugar and the eggs?
A. Yes.
QO. Who served the eggnog to Mrs. Appelgate?
A. He did. He put his hand under her back and held her up
while she drank it. She didn’t drink it all.
QO. Now, early the next morning did you hear a noise that
awoke you?
A. Yes. At about five-thirty.
Q. What awoke you?
A. Ada was having a spell.
QO. She died?
A, Yes.
Q. Did Appelgate know about the first powder you gave his
wife? :
A. I don’t think so—he never mentioned it to me.
Q. You chastised her because you thought she was unreason-
able?
A. That’s right.
Q. You decided to do away with her?

A. Yes.
Assistant District Attomey De Meo then took the stand to

tell about the third confession. Three days after she had signed
the second, she sent for De Meo and said that she had not told
the truth to the assistant district attorney. “I told her,” said
De Meo, “that I was sick and tired of sitting around and listening
to a lot of claptrap from her. I told her if she wanted to tell me

207 ] Poison and Pedophilia

anything she could get pencil and paper and write it out.”
Whereupon Mary asked for writing material and in her own
hand denied any connection with the arsenic and this time
placed the entire blame on Appelgate.

“About 11:30 P.M. [she wrote in part] Mr. A. said he was
going to fix a milk eggnog for her. He got the sugar ligor & I got
the egg & milk gave them to him & watched him fix it again I saw
him drop this stuff in yet I did not say a word as once I had been
told to keep quiet. He took it in & lifted Ada up & gave her
some.”

Edwards, Mrs. Creighton’s counsel, challenged again the ad-
mission of the confessions, particularly the participation of Dr.
Hoffmann, who posed as the defendant’s friend in order to gain
her confidence. The state put Dr. Hoffmann on the stand and
he testified that Mary Creighton was, in his opinion, “super
adult, shrewd and intelligent.” She had strongly resisted his
suggestions that she confess until at long last she had made up
her own mind to ease her conscience. The state also established
that Mrs. Creighton had been examined by a physician and
found to be in excellent health even after the long periods of
questioning.

Thus far no hard evidence that tied Appelgate definitely in
with the murder had been introduced. There was only Mary
Frances Creighton’s word to implicate him, and she had
offered two different versions of his participation. When Little-
ton had closed his case for the state, Weeks, Appelgate’s at-
torney, therefore asked for a directed verdict of acquittal for his
client. But Judge Johnson said, “Motion denied,” and the trial
went on.

Opening the case for Mary Creighton’s defense, Edwards
called Ruth Creighton as his first witness.
She was calm at first, but soon the tears flowed freely.


94 Tuey Diep IN THE CHAIR

around in her purse and came up with two dimes. Appel-
gate gave her the three cents necessary to make her
purchase. Together they entered the drugstore where
they were well known. Appy browsed about the front of
the shop, while Frances went to a rear counter and,
after a few minutes of conversation with the clerk, bought
a tin of Rough-on-Rats.

On September 17, 1935, Ada Appelgate became vio-
lently ill. She had abdominal pains, followed by retching
and vomiting. Her eyes streamed with tears and she be-
came hysterical. During the next few days she had
several similar attacks. At this time she was on a rigid
diet and taking various medicines for her obesity. The
youthful doctor called in to examine her diagnosed her
illness as hysteria brought about by the diet and
medicinal treatment. As the attacks continued, he ar-
ranged for her to go to the Nassau County South Com-
munity Hospital. Her condition improved rapidly and
on the twenty-fifth of the same month she was permitted
to return home. Appelgate and Mrs. Creighton came to
get her. As she left the hospital she was heard to remark,
“So you have to take me home to die.”

On the evening of September 26, Frances Creighton
cooked the family dinner. The main dish was a fricassee
_ of chicken. Frances prepared a separate portion for Ada,
who could not eat onions or spices. She arranged an at-
tractive tray for the bedridden woman and Agnes Appel-
gate carried it to her mother. Ada ate sparingly and
the tray went back to the kitchen with the fricassee
scarcely touched.

Shortly before midnight, Frances prepared an eggnog
for Ada. This drink contained a lethal dose of arsenic.
Later, on the witness stand, Frances admitted that she
put the arsenic into the eggnog with full knowledge of
its power to kill. However, the conditions under which
the powder was placed in the drink are open to question.
Frances claimed that Appy came to the kitchen while

Tue Biack-Eyep Borcia 95

she was mixing the eggnog, gave her the powder and
virtually forced her to drop it into the glass. Appelgate,
on the contrary, denied that he knew the drink was
poisoned. ‘

Frances took the eggnog to Ada’s room and set it
on her bedside table. Appelgate seated himself on the
edge of the bed. He propped Ada up with one arm and
ana the glass to her lips with his free hand. Was it

usbandly solicitude on Appelgate’s part that he coaxed
her into drinking more than half the eggnog? Or was he
making certain that she would take enough arsenic to
kill her?

After Ada finished, the glass was returned to the
kitchen and washed. Appelgate undressed, lay down
beside his wife and went to sleep. He awakened at some
unknown hour of the night. Ada was out of bed. She
had vomited and was wandering about the room in what
Appelgate described as “a delirious condition.” Appelgate
managed to get her back in bed, but the noise attracted
the attention of the Creightons who then came to the
room. Between them, they moved the bed over to the
wall, so that Ada could not get up again without crawling
over her husband and waking him.

Still later, Appelgate was again awakened, this time by
the struggles of his wife to crawl over him. He quieted
her down and she apparently resumed her sleep. The
next time he awoke, his wife was screaming about a
pink piano and pointing to an empty corner of the room.
She had been sick, and the bed was badly messed. Appel-
gate called the Creightons. They helped him strip Ada
of her soiled nightgown and dress her in a fresh one.
They also changed the sheets.

Then Ada fell down on the bed and her body went
limp. Appy slapped her face and forced whiskey down °
her throat. Ada managed to prop herself up on her
elbows. She opened her mouth as though to scream,
then stiffened spasmodically. Her head tilted back and


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THREE

THE BLACK-EYED BORGIA
[FRANCES CREIGHTON]

The murderess and her victim bore a strange re-
semblance to each other—so much so that they were often
taken for sisters as they attended church together or went
shopping in the little town of Baldwin, Long Island, or the
nearby cities of Mineola and Rockville Center.

Both women were stout, broad-faced, big-bosomed.
Each had black hair and wore rimless glasses. The mouth
of each tended to turn down at the corners. These
characteristics, however, were far more exaggerated in
Ada Appelgate than in Frances Creighton—to the extent.
that Mrs. Appelgate appeared almost like a grotesque
caricature of her companion. Ada tipped the scale at two.

_ hundred and eighty-six pounds, while Frances weighed

a mere hundred and sixty-five. Ada had gray, sagging
skin and waddled when she walked. Frances possessed a
clear complexion and held herself upright. Ada was
careless in her dress and a trifle bawdy in her speech.
Frances was meticulous in appearance and somewhat
prim of manner.
The two women lived together with their respective
families in a small wooden frame house strane at 12
saa Place. Outwardly, they appeared friendly, even
affectionate. They called each other “dear” and “darling,”
took turns preparing meals and were known to. comb
each other’s hair. Secretly, however, there was deep an-

\tagonism between them and, on Frances’ part at least,
‘a bitter hatred.

| Ada Appelgate gave vent to her spleen through wide-
90

Tue Buiack-Eyep Borcia 91

ae : ae :
spread malicious gossip. Frances’ mind worked in more

evious patterns. For some months she had been writing
poison-pen letters about the Appelgates. These letters,
which she addressed to herself, referred to Ada and her
husband as “rats,” “bums,” “blowhards” and repeatedly
spoke of Ada’s “big mouth.” Frances pretended to find
these epistles tucked under the front door of mornings.
With every appearance of shock and anger, she showed

them to her husband and the Appelgates. She even ap- |

proved the idea of her husband taking them to the
police and filing a complaint. And he did.
Neighbors had no ‘hint of the explosive situation

_ building up inside the little Bryant Place house. Ada

Appelgate was a bit unpopular because of her sharp
Siras but her husban, Everett, though somewhat
bumptious, was well liked. A short, plump, ruddy-faced
man of 36, he was extremely active in the American
Legion and had been defeated by a narrow margin for
the post of County Commander. He was employed by
the Veteran’s Unemployment Bureau as an investigator
at $38 per week.

The Creightons were considered a quiet, respectable
couple. John worked steadily, was mild-mannered and
even tempered. Frances was active in church work and
the Parent Teachers Association. She was a teetotaller
who reacted to bad language or off-color stories with
visible shock.

Besides the four adults, three children lived in the
house. There being only two bedrooms, the girls, Ruth
Creighton, 14, and Agnes Appelgate, a few years younger,
shared a bed in the attic, while Jackie Creighton, 11, slept
on a porch. It was pretty, fragile-looking, Ruth who lit
the fuse leading to the explosion that caused the violent
death of three of the four adults in the household.

Everett Appelgate had never had a brush with the law,
but considering his one great weakness he was lucky
indeed. For Everett liked very young girls. When he

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92 Tuey Diep In THE CHAIR

first met Ruth, he was not living in the Creighton home,
but with his wife’s parents a few blocks away. Ruth and
Agnes used to play together. The tiny blonde girl at-
tracted Appelgate and he set about to seduce her. This
seduction, according to Ruth’s subsequent story to the
police, took place at a school dance in a booth where
Appelgate was operating colored spotlights that played
over the dancing couples. Later Ruth amended her story
_on the witness stand. She said that she had previously
engaged in intimacies with “Uncle Ev” on the sun
porch of the house where he was then living.
A short time after this incident, Appelgate quarreled
violently with his father-in-law and left his house. On
the same day he, with his wife and daughter, moved in

with the Creightons. It is not clear why John Creighton |

permitted this invasion, but apparently he was an ac-
quiescent man, unable to stand up against Appelgate’s
glib insistence that they share the Bryant Place house.
From this point on, ‘Appelgate seems to have taken
control of the household. Not only did he persuade the
Creightons that it was safe to - Ruth occasionally
share the bed with him and Ada but, if his testimony in

court is to be believed, he actually had sexual relations .

with the girl while his wife slept beside them. Soon his
conquests included the mother as well as the daughter.
And all this without John Creighton’s knowledge.

Ada Appelgate brought the matter to a head with her
gossip. es ged she was afraid of her husband and
unaware of his intimacy with Mrs. Creighton. But she
knew about Ruth. She began dropping hints to the
neighbors and once in a drugstore made definite ac-
cusations against the girl. Young Jackie Creighton,
without understanding the significance of what he had
overheard, relayed the information to his mother. An
angry scene ensued between the two women. Ada prom-
ised to cease further gossip, but Frances realized that she
could not control the other woman’s tongue.

Tue Brack-Eyep Borcia 93283 4

Frances was in a quandary. Her feelings toward Appel-
ate were ambivalent, a compound of physical attraction
and ‘bitter hatred. Whatever her feelings, she wanted
both him and his wife out of the house. But how could
she accomplish this? Once she made an overt move,
Appelgate might tell her husband about the whole tawdry
affair and, above everything else, Frances wanted to
maintain her home. Her ruse of the poison-pen letters
had failed because John Creighton refused to take them
seriously. She must find another way. It was natural, in
view of her background, that her thoughts should turn
to arsenic. :

There were two incidents in her earlier life which
Frances Creighton thought were well concealed from
her neighbors. Twelve years previously she had stood
trial, together with her husband, for the murder of her
nineteen-year-old brother, Raymond Avery. Both de-
fendants had been acquitted. A short time later she was
indicted for the arsenic murder of her mother-in-law,
Mrs. Walter J. Creighton. She was tried alone this time
and released for lack of evidence. Both trials had taken
place in Newark, New Jersey. (Later she admitted her
guilt in the death of Avery who, she claimed, was
“tubercular and a pervert and better off dead.”)

Once Frances reached her decision, she wasted no
time in putting her plan into action. All she needed was
some rat poison and, by a lucky chance, the drugstore
in Baldwin was conducting a sale. The regular 35-cent
tin of Rough-on-Rats was being sold for 23 cents.
Frances asked Everett Appelgate, whom she always called
Appy, to drive her into the shopping center that after-
noon.

Did Frances and Appelgate discuss the plan for poison-

ing Ada? Frances claims they did, that Appelgate coerced

her into making the poison purchase. Appelgate denied
any slightest knowledge of Frances’ actions. Appelgate
parked the car in front of the store. Frances scrabbled


May 1936

True Detective Mysteries

The Adulteress and the Unloved Wife

(Continued from page 11)

Mr. Littleton turned to Appelgate. “You
were home during the day throughout
your wife’s illness?”

“Yes, most of the time. I am em-
ployed by the Nassau County Veterans’
Bureau, checking merchandise _ orders
made by. veterans on relief, and I more
or less do the work whenever I want to.”

“And you, Mr. Creighton—were you
working during Mrs. Appelgate’s illness?”

“Yes. I work right here in the court-
house—in the County Engineer’s office.
Been there for seven years.”

“Mrs. Creighton,” Littleton went on,
“did a neighbor of yours in Baldwin ever
get sick from eating a cake you baked,
and accuse you of trying to poison her?”

“Certainly not!’ The woman’s eyes
flashed with anger.

The questioning went on for more than
two hours, each of the three from the
house of death being interrogated during
intervals while the two others were out
of the room. In this way, Mr. Littleton
and the others obtained a picture of a
most unusual houschold that had served
as the background for the death drama—
a picture that was to have paramount
bearing on the sinister events that were
presently to unfold.

HE Creightons and the Appelgates had

been the joint occupants of a small,
stucco bungalow since November, 1934,
when the Appelgates, following a row with
relatives with whom they had been living,
moved into the premises at 12 Bryant
Place. Their friends, the Creightons, had
for some time been occupying the bunga-
low with their daughter, Ruth, then four-
teen; and their son, John, Jr., aged eleven.
The Appelgates had one child, Agnes, two
years Ruth Creighton’s junior.

Thus there were seven occupants in a
dwelling designed for four at the most,
and while the house was crowded, the
Creightons didn’t mind because they were
very fond of the Appelgates. Then, too,
the arrangement lightened expenses, Ap-
pelgate footing three-sevenths of all house-
hold bills.

The Creightons, wed for seventeen
years, had lived for a while in Boston,
following their acquittal of the Newark
murder «charge, then settled on Long Is-
land. They had lived in Baldwin for sev-
eral years, and had become acquainted
with the Appelgates through American
Legion activities. Creighton was a war
veteran, and Appelgate had been, until a
few months before his wife’s death, Com-
mander of the Second Division of the
Legion in Nassau County, comprising ten
posts. The summer prior to the time that
concerns us, he had been an unsuccessful
candidate for County Commander.

Appelgate and the Creightons vigorous-
ly denied that there had ever been fric-
tion in the household more serious than
a family spat between husband and wife.
The Creightons professed their love for
one another, and Appelgate his love for
his dead wife.

The sleeping arrangements in the house-
hold caused the D.A. and others present
to raise their eyebrows. There were two
bedrooms on the first floor, normally oc-
ceupied by Mr. and Mrs. Creighton and
Mr. and Mrs. Appelgate, respectively; a
bedroom in the attic, assigned to Agnes
Appelgate and Ruth Creighton; and a
cot. on an enclosed porch in the rear for
John Creighton, Jr.

For a time, everybody slept in his own
bed. But one might in the stummer of
1935, the Creightons had a man and his

wife as overnight guests, and they were
given the bedroom of their hosts. That
night, the Creightons occupied the girls’
room in the attic, Agnes Appelgate slept
out on the porch with young John
Creighton and Ruth Creighton got into
bed with the American Legion Com-
mander and his corpulent wife.

It struck Mr. Littleton and King as
peculiar that Ruth Creighton, instead of
their own son or daughter, had slept with
the Appelgates, but not nearly so peculiar
as the fact disclosed by the Creightons
that Ruth and Appelgate had been bed-
fellows at frequent intervals after that first
night of the scrambled sleeping arrange-
ments, even when there were not over-
night guests. Sometimes Ruth slept with
Appelgate and his wife, sometimes with
the man and his own daughter. The first
night that Mrs. Appelgate was in the hos-
pital, her husband paced the floor of his
bedroom half the night. Then, about four
o’clock in the morning, he walked into
the Creightons’ chamber, which one wags
obliged to pass through in going from the
Appelgates’ bedroom to the attic, and
woke up the couple.

“What’s wrong, Appy?” asked Creigh-
ton.

“I can’t sleep,” said the Legionnaire.
“I’m lonesome alone. . I’m going upstairs
and sleep with the girls.”

Littleton asked Mrs. Creighton point-
blank whether she suspected that there
was anything improper between her
daughter and Appelgate.

“Heaven’s no!” the woman replied.
“Ruth’s only fifteen—a mere child. And
Iiverett Appelgate is one of the finest
men I have ever known.”

He asked Creighton if he had considered
it proper to permit his daughter to do as
she had done, and he shrugged his shoul-
ders and said: “I saw nothing wrong in
it. TEv’s « fine fellow. I’m his adjutant
in the Legion.”

Then the District Attorney questioned
Appelgate about the singular bedfellow-
ship. The Legionnaire smiled and re-
sponded: “T like the kid. She’s just like
a daughter to me.” Then the import of
Littleton’s implication dawned on the man
and his features clouded. “Say, what the
hell are you driving at, anyway! Suppose
there was something going on between
that child and me, you don’t suppose we'd
be in the same bed with my wife or my
daughter, do you?”

O far as revealed by questioning of

Appelgate and the Creightons, there
had been no motive for anyone in the
household poisoning Mrs, Appelgate. In
truth there was no proof that the woman
had been poisoned. But if the suspicions
were not heightened after the quiz, they
were certainly not allayed.

"It was tw6-thirty o’clock on the Sunday
morning when the questioning was over,
and the Legionnaire and his two friends
were led to another room while Littleton
and King and Chief of Police Abram W.
Skidmore conferred on the next move. At
length, Littleton sent for Appelgate,
shoved an official form before the man,
handed him a pen and told him to put
down his signature,

“What is this for?” asked Appelgate.

“That’s an authorization by you for an
autopsy on your wife.”

With trembling hand, the Legionnaire
pul down his name. Then Mr. Littleton
made arrangements for removal of the
body from the bungalow to Meadowbrook

Hospital for an immediate autopsy.

89

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90

Appelgate paced the floor of a room ad-
joining the District Attorney’s office and
the Creightons slumped down in chairs,
dozing, as Dr. Carl A, Hettesheimer, Med-
ical Examiner of Nassau County, began
his grim task in an operating room miles
away, .
Littleton’s telephone rang a few min-
utes before four o’clock, and he picked it
up quickly and scratched notes on a pad
as a voice crackled through the receiver.

When he hung up, he told King:
“That was Dr. Hettesheimer. He’s taken
out the liver and kidneys, and he’s going
after the stomach and the brain now. He
says the kidneys are swollen twice their
normal size and the liver is badly in-
flamed. He says arsenic has a predilection
for the liver and kidneys and acts on them
exactly that way. We won’t know defi-
nitely, of course, about the presence of
arsenic until a chemical analysis has been
made, and that will take the petter part
of a week. But it looks pretty bad.”

UST then there was a knock on the door

and a distinguished, gray-haired gentle-
man entered. He was Dr. Richard Hoff-
-man, eminent New York psychiatrist, and
a close friend of Mr. Littleton’s. The
District Attorney had aroused him from
bed and Dr. Hoffman had driven twenty
miles through the night from his home in

Manhattan, not knowing what awaited ©

him in Mineola. Littleton soon explained.
He wanted Dr. Hoffman to accompany
Mrs. Creighton and King to the house
in Baldwin while Ruth was quizzed about
the peculiar sleeping arrangements that
had maintained in the Creighton-Appel-
gate household, and to apply his profes-
sional knowledge to the reactions of the
mother and the girl.

It was exactly 5:30 A. M. and a drizzle
was coming out of a leaden sky when Mrs.
Creighton, Hoffman and King drew up in
a police car to the little stucco bungalow
at 12 Bryant Place in Baldwin. The ride
of a few miles from Mineola had been
uneventful, and Mrs. Creighton, the psy-
chiatrist, and King chatted about things
commonplace during the trip, the woman
never once asking questions of any kind
or commenting on their going to the house
with her while her husband and Appelgate
remained at the court-house.

Mrs. Creighton let the investigators in
and snapped on the living room lights.
King told her to call to her daughter and
Mrs. Creighton smilingly complied.

A sleepy voice from above let the men
know that Ruth would be down presently.
At length there were footsteps at the
head of a flight of stairs that led down
to the living-room. The men, who were
standing in a corner that afforded a view
of the stairs, saw a pair of tiny feet clad
in mules. Something glistened on the left
ankle and when the girl whom the mother
had described as a “mere child” came
farther down the steps, they saw that she
was wearing a gold ankle bracelet.

They were next attracted to the girl’s
fingernails, They. were enamelled a bril-
‘liant. crimson. Hoffman and King ex-
changed significant glances, even before
they had a good look at Ruth Creigh-
ton’s face. The ankle bracelet and the
bright nail polish were revelatory indica-
tions that despite her tender years, this
girl was far from untutored in the ways
of the world.

King noticed that Ruth Creighton was
developed beyond her years. Her body
more closely resembled that of a girl of
twenty-one than fifteen.. She had on only
a nightgown and a thin dressing robe. He
concluded that this over-development
might have been due to the fact that
Latin blood flowed in her veins. He had
learned during the questioning of the

True Detective Mysteries

preceding hours that Mrs. Creighton was
one-half Spanish,

* Ruth’s maturity caused him to attach
additional importance to what he already
knew about the sleeping arrangements.
Those facts, coupled with the girl’s gen-
eral mien—the way she walked, the way
she smiled when she said “How do you
do,” when her mother effected the intro-
ductions, and the way she seated herself—
led him to the definite’ suspicion that she
and Appelgate had been having illicit re-
lations.

Mrs. Creighton told Ruth that Dr. Hoff-
man and King wished to have a talk with
her alone, and said she would leave them
while she went into the kitchen to make
some coffee. King kept one eye on the
kitchen when the questioning began.

Dr! Hoffman, a master psychologist, in-
gratiated himself with the girl in short
order, then deftly led to the subject on
which he sought enlightenment.

“You say you are quite fond of Mr.
Appelgate, or Uncle Ev, as you call him,
Ruth,” the psychiatrist said. “Does he
kiss you often?”

The skilful inclusion of the word “often”
in the question—the very first query of
a personal nature—apparently banished
from the girl’s mind any ideas she might
have of denying that Appelgate had
kissed her. “Yes,” she answered. “Uncle
Ev often kisses me.” :

“Yes, of course,” said Dr. Hoffman.
“That is as it should be, Ruth. And you
like to have Uncle Ev kiss you on the lips,
of course.”

“Yes, sir.”

“On the lips.”

“Yes, sir.”

. “And you liked to sleep with Uncle
Ev?”

The girl nodded, and the color came to
her cheeks.

“Now that’s all right, my dear,” said
Dr. Hoffman sympathetically. “I am a
doctor, and you needn’t be afraid to talk
to me.” The psychiatrist next asked Ruth
not if but how long she had been having
illicit relations with Everett Appelgate.

“Since last June,” the girl said, simply.

It was just after this shocking admission
that Mrs. Creighton came into the room
from the kitchen. “I have made some hot
coffee, gentlemen,” she said. “Will you
join me in a cup?”

Dr. Hoffman and King declined as
gracefully as they could. To put it mildly,
neither one of them wanted to take a
ro Tg on coffee brewed by Mrs. Creigh-
ton

King motioned the woman to a seat.
“Did you know, Mrs. Creighton,” he
asked, “that Ruth here has been having
improper relations with Everett Appel-
gate?”

ford woman’s face was an expressionless
mask. He couldn’t tell what her re-
action was. It was during that moment
that he realized he was dealing with a
heartless human being. “Why, no,” she
answered. “Is this true, Ruth?”

The girl looked at her mother askance.
“Ig it true?” she repeated incredulously.
“Why, Mother, you know very well it’s
true. You’ve known all along.’

“Why, this child is impossible!” Mrs.
Creighton said to King. “I had no idea
such a thing was going on.”

Without another word, with absolutely
no show of concern over her daughter's
predicament, the woman walked into the
kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee!

“Mother knows all about it,” Ruth said.
“You told her at the time?” asked the

~ psychiatrist.

“She caught us one time when she
walked into the bedroom a couple of
months ago.”

“Which bedroom?”

“Uncle Ev’s. I was sleeping there that
night.”

“And Mrs. Appelgate was in the bed at
the time?”

“Yes, but she was asleep. We always
waited until she went to sleep. The same
thing happened when Uncle Ev and I
slept with Agnes. We always waited for

Agnes to go to sleep.”

“Did Mrs. Appelgate know about this?”
» “I'll say she did.. She was very mad at
Uncle Ev.”

“When did she find out?”

“That time when Mother caught us.”

“Your mother told Mrs. Appelgate
then?”

Ruth nodded.

“And after that you never slept with the
Appelgates?”

“No. Once in a while Uncle Ev would
come up to my room during the night
after Agnes had gone to sleep.”

“And did this thing happen anywhere
else?”

“Yes, often in Uncle Ev’s car.”

“Did your father know about this?”

“Oh, no. Mother warned me about that.
She said Father would kill Uncle Ev if he
found out.”

“Do you think perhaps Mrs. Appelgate
told your father?”

“No, not if I know Daddy. He would
have said or done something about it.”

“T\ID Uncle Ev tell you very often
that he loved you?”

“Oh yes, often.”

“How often did he propose marriage?”

Dr. Hoffman went on, getting the whole
picture of the sordid relationship between
the girl and the man more than twice her
age. When the Appelgates first went to
live with the Creightons, the Legionnaire
used to put his arm around Ruth, fatherly
fashion, and the girl grew to like him in
a childish way. But at about that time,
Ruth was changing from childhood to
young womanhood, and as the months
wore on, she began to thrill to Appelgate’s
proximity. One night when he came home
for dinner and found Ruth alone in her
bedroom, he put his arms around her and
kissed her passionately on the mouth. The
girl experienced an ecstasy she had never
known before and not long afterward their
first intimacy occurred—in a motion pic-
ture projection booth during an American
Legion social affair. Ruth did not realize
she had done wrong. Appelgate told her
that such a relationship was proper for
two individuals who cared for each other,
although he warned her not to say any-
thing about it to anyone.

Once Mrs. Creighton had learned about
her daughter’s downfall, she had taken no
action to put a stop to further relations
between the girl and Appelgate. In fact,
Ruth avowed, she and Appelgate often
warmly embraced each other in the pres-
ence of the mother, and the latter said
or did nothing about it!

Here, indeed, was a most bewildering
state of affairs. The reactions of some
of the members of this strange household
were different from anything King had
observed in his long experience in police
work. Here was a mother who, if Ruth
was telling the truth, openly countenanced
an illicit affair between her young daugh-
ter and a married man. The openness of
both the girl and Appelgate before the
eyes of the mother was just as inexplicable.
The only possible explanation that sug-
gested itself to King was that Appelgate
“had something on” Mrs. Creighton :and
that the woman didn’t dare interfere with
him. And why hadn’t the woman who was
now dead insisted upon leaving, the bun-
galow when she was fully aware that her
husband was involved in a love affair with

+a neea

me

°o


Dr. Alexander Zabin of Malverne,
was the attending physician, and he
signed the death certificate this
afternoon.”

“Well,” King said, “Ada Appel-
gate’s husband may not be suspi-
cious, but I am.” :

. Hastening through the Tunnel of
Tears, the underground passage-
way that connects Police Head-
quarters at Mineola with the court-
house, he went to the office of Dis-
trict Attorney Martin W. Littleton,
who he knew was working late.
When Mr. Littleton heard the facts,
he directed that Assistant District
Attorney Richard H. Brown and
King have a talk with Dr. Zabin.

Dr. Zabin wasn’t exactly sur-
prised to see the sleuths, or sur-
prised when King told him that
ugly rumors were afloat about the
demise of Ada Appelgate.

“T wouldn’t be surprised if there
was something queer about that
death,” said the physician. “TI
signed a death certificate only a few
hours ago—but I signed it against
my better judgment. I was treat-
ing the woman for one thing and
—— she died of something
else.”

It was during a talk of more than
an hour with the physician that
Assistant District Attorney Brown
and King pieced together a tale
with sinister overtones.

Dr. Zabin had been Mrs. Appel-
gate’s physician for about a year.
First, he had treated her for obesity.
She had been in her thirty-sixth
year and weighed 269 pounds. On
September 19th, 1935, the Doc-
tor was summoned to treat the
woman for violent spells of nausea.
He diagnosed her ailment as gall
bladder trouble and stomach dis-
order. When, at the end of two
days, the excessive vomiting did not
stop, Dr. Zabin had the patient re-
moved to South Nassau Com-
munity Hospital in Oceanside.

Almost as soon as the woman
reached the institution, she re-
sponded to treatment—the same
treatment that had been ineffectually
administered to her in her home.
Four days later, she had recovered
sufficiently to leave the hospital.
She had been back in her home only
a few hours when the violent vomit-
ing began again.

The treatment that had checked
the disorder in the hospital was con-
tinued, but to no avail. The
ravages of the malady continued to rack the huge frame of the
woman and at half-past six on the morning of Friday, the
27th, Everett Appelgate telephoned the medico and said:

“Come quick, Doctor! I think my wife is dead!’’

Dr. Zabin was of the opinion that death had been caused by
coronary arterial occlusion, or blood clots in a vital artery
leading to the heart, and was at a loss to account for this,
inasmuch as the ailment he had been treating the woman for
wouldn’t have produced such a condition.

Just a few hours before the Assistant District Attorney and
King were at the Doctor’s office, the husband of the dead wo-
man and John Creighton, the man who had been tried for
murder, had called on Dr. Zabin and insisted that he sign the
death certificate. At first the physician demurred, insisting
upon an autopsy. While he was not suspicious, he was
curious to know what had suddenly caused the patient’s blood
to clot. On the pleas of the widower and Creighton that it

10

(Above) Inspector King with Ruth Creighton. Her story of family life
in the little home amazed and appalled the detectives

would be a terrible thing to cut up Mrs. Appelgate’s body, since
that would accomplish no useful end, the Doctor reluctantly
affixed his signature to the death certificate. Mrs. Creighton
had already been embalmed and was laid out in her home,
burial services being set for the following Monday.

During the woman’s fatal illness, Dr. Zabin had noticed
that Mrs. Creighton, whom he described as a large, dark-eyed
woman in her late thirties, constantly hovered at the bed-
side of the patient. Prodding his memory, Dr. Zabin could
not recall a single instance when Mrs. Creighton had not been
in the sick room during his visits to the home. She remained
at the bedside during the entirety of each call, and the physician
had marked her down as Mrs. Appelgate’s staunch, deeply
concerned friend.

The Doctor recalled that Mrs. Creighton had made it a
point to ask him about Mrs. Appelgate’s diet, and had inquired
if it would be all right to make broths and egg-nogs for the


PRenr Wert

life

dy, since
luctantly
‘reighton
er home,

| noticed
lark-eyed
the bed-
vin could
not been
remained
»hysician
i, deeply

it a
ired
othe

The Adulteress and the Unloved Wife— Long Island’s Astounding Creighton Case 11

sick woman. The Doctor said that a liquid diet was most
desirable, and it was his impression that Mrs. Creighton had
personally prepared what little nourishment the bedridden
woman was able to keep on her stomach.

The Assistant D. A. and King exchanged glances when
Dr. Zabin mentioned the broths and the egg-nogs—perfect
mediums for the introduction of arsenic.

“Did Mrs. Appelgate eat or drink anything prepared
by Mrs. Creighton while she was in the hospital, Doctor?”
King asked.

“No. The rules forbade that.’

“Was Mrs. Creighton alone with the woman in the hos-
pital at any time?”

“She couldn’t have been. Mrs. Appelgate was in a semi-
private room. There was another patient in the room with
her.”’

“Would the introduction of arsenic into Mrs. Appelgate’s
diet have caused her to die in the manner she did?”

“It certainly would have. It would have caused the violent
nausea and also the coronary arterial occlusion. In fact,
arsenic poisoning could very well be a perfect explanation for
everything relating to the death, particularly why Mrs. Appel-
gate responded to medication in the hospital and not at home.
She certainly wasn’t being fed arsenic in the hospital. A nurse
brought in her food.”

“There was no nurse in the woman’s home at any time?”

“No. Mrs. Creighton acted as nurse.”

(Below) Mrs. Mary Creighton (center), of the hypnotic eyes, Long Island’s
sinister Borgia woman, being assisted into court

When District Attorney Littleton heard the facts disclosed
by Dr. Zabin, his eyes narrowed and he said:

“Bring in the Creightons, Inspector—and Appelgate, too.”

It was almost midnight when Littleton and King heard
footsteps outside of his office. The door opened and in walked
three detectives and the three individuals they had gone after.
King nodded to Appelgate, and he returned the greeting.
He was a nattily dressed, alert man, smooth-shaven, sparkling
blue eyes, sleek light brown hair.

At first glance, Mrs. Creighton appeared to be a typical,
middleclass housewife—except for her eyes. They were dark
and forbidding, and had a hypnotic quality. Closer scrutiny
of the woman’s face marked her as a person of strong will, an
individual accustomed to dominating others. Her husband,
on the other hand, seemed to be a mild-mannered, easy-going
man, his nondescript face lined by a life that had contained its
share of worry and strife. It was easy for one to imagine that
many of the lines on John Creighton’s face were there as a
result of his marriage to the woman with the forbidding eyes.

The Creightons took seats, and Everett Appelgate went
over to King and whispered: “May I see you privately for a
minute?”

“Surely,” King replied. He glanced at District Attorney
Littleton, who had noticed the incident, and he nodded his
approval of King leaving the room with the man while he pre-
pared to question the Creightons. As King walked out into
the hallway with Appelgate, he asked:

“What does all this mean, In-
spector?”’

“Oh, just routine,” King said.
“The District Attorney has to go
through the motions of making an
investigation because the Creightons
were once charged with murder. I
was very sorry to hear about Ada’s
death.’’

“Yes, poor woman,” said the hus-
band, “‘we couldn’t save her. But
say, Inspector, there won’t be any
scandal about this thing, will there?
Those poor people in there have
been more than kind—especially
Frances, Mrs. Creighton rather.
As I told your men this afternoon,
that trouble they were in over in
New Jersey years ago has nothing
to do with this. They were inno-
cent of that other business. anyway.
It was a frame-up.”

As King returned to Mr. Little-
ton’s office with Appelgate, the Dis-
trict Attorney was talking to the
Creightons about the death of the
woman’s brother. The couple dis-
cussed the grim affair with disarm-
ing frankness. Mrs. Creighton said
that it had always been her im-
pression that her brother had com-
mitted slow suicide by taking arsenic
because of a certain physical under-
development that would have pre-
vented him from ever marrying.

“Did your brother suffer from
violent nausea prior to his death?”
asked Mr. Littleton.

“Yes, he did.”

“An illness similar to Mrs. Appel-
gate’s?”’

All studied Mrs. Creighton closely
at this point, but her equanimity
remained undisturbed at the sug-
gestion that Mrs. Appelgate, too,
had died from arsenic poisoning.
“Yes,”’ answered the woman, “‘Ada’s
illness was similar so far as the
vomiting was concerned. But the
vomiting was caused by something
entirely different, of course.”

“Who prepared Mrs. Appelgate’s
food when she was ill?’’

“T—and Mr. Appelgate.”’

(Continued on. . page 89)


‘| dictmwent for the murder, and the foriner detaived axa
| Witness. ‘The. tittie“gic! bas eeu ia the thanily if Louis.

| apd bes shutrn comsbdérable distrens in virw of hele op-

| of Moderia, o Portdgeaser Colony, where te bed gi aud

| lane. He waa a musician, nnd could write rery well. He
i Wrote Lin basne ond: age: 0: & tip of paper in very fair

Papen the deceased, regres to-day to, Hamilton He thee |

. wy
EGksil aren i bmenel portent order end décor jn the |
_ paformance of his stern duty ax the minister of justice. |

| Phaacrnues td the jell were guarded by several compa |
| mies if poblliets, the entire police force of the county was
m ‘ eS

fag. te Uap. _
EC gos en munacd SALI: bs tan Sdoetel bin i
cence of the ertne. During the preceding day and. yeoter-

_ pistohiing fete, bat he slept during ‘Wolluniday night, as-4
es dinner yesterday. The woman, Maria Pitar,
wee pnp He asked her to forgive tie,
fot sho peed tn the Jen potting to: forgive hie for,
pie sdded that be teage well, seough the’ abe had doue
stbing. Thapon wee abve in the call with bin theher, ao]
was enctedingly distremed at the peoepect of losing hie
; ‘and friend tu this country, In the attersoon,
thie hl than wept ond prayed, dot he deotared thet he wee
‘preperete oy an. giakd subasit to hid tte restlutely.
Paaetly before 4 o'clock, bee was broaght down inte toe
Jower ee ek and oa he approached the. place of exe:
wethon'he. cur. thnved t+ prey with » wud tales, broken ty.
echs, smdentibielt much distress. He walked wiih etme
Hetanee, however, and when placed under the rips, desir’
"6d ail. present to prey fae him. Me wee naked if be bad |
smythiig to my, end replied that be bad art. The sigual
) was given by drawing the cap over be Gov, and the
‘PA teatantly, jorkicg ap tbe ‘Ledy wee vech force, $0 log
+ ted the meek: and inymntty deprive him of Rte The
Doody wee. tor 6 little tims suljert to maincular — rs.
‘Bienen and Wrrvers t2tichingn, beat Tho. bo rigger
tae ie bases ang. aberrat hait.we | & wine ‘takoo: down:

ae a Sa Foam Sa aa a apres See Tia axe =
Antonie $a 51 years of age, and wag born in the sine 1,

theese childres wien be lef for Bermuda. He wes a mew: «
ber of s thenily of-s2me consiteration there; ‘had reesared |
wine edie stign, and wes quite jutelligent ior ome of hie |

_ Characters yeater tay f
The woman and boy. ate oenny ty gail ‘iain ettae saad ee

Goturz, ‘The disposition of these ia custody wilt betes
termined by the Cuurt herwaiter . :
Mr Gosnas, 1m, whe Ties Sl ican i ts acdc

been (ithtul and cosisiderate te, the performance wt ibe
desicate arad peinfel duties imponed pon htm byte Goert’:

— As usual on sieh occasions, the aveyuer to
the jailand the bouee- teas ban the vielnily were crowded
Sertth people, wlio wer sttescind by the, event erpected to.

Aamepire in the jel yesterstay afternoon, ee! peticg:



APPEL, George, white, elec. NYSP IlQueens) August 9, 1928



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id you do

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e murder
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1 Talbot’s
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Tived at
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om the
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But the
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time the store had not carried that par-
ticular brand.

‘The lieutenant turned now to the third
report, from the police laboratory, on an
analysis of the cloth fragment snagged on
the shattered partition. The cloth came
from an expensive, dark-blue chinchilla
overcoat.

Several points were clear. The gun used
to kill Kemmer had been employed in at
least one other holdup in the Glendale
area. One of the slayers probably was an
electrician, while the second either was
a bookmaker or worked for a bookie. The
killers had fled in a car owned by a man
who lived near the murder scene. One of
the gunmen had been in Chicago within
the last few months and wore an expen-
sive overcoat. .

But how did all this add up? McDer-
mott pondered the car angle, which seemed -
to hold the most promise. Of all the autos
parked around the neighborhood, he asked
himself, why should the robbers pick the
Hudson coach—and then return it to with-
in a few yards of where it had been
parked?

The answer came with a rush. Because
someone had tried to frame Sam Talbot!
But why? ;
McDermott had a hunch that Cathy
Phillips might know the answer ‘o that.
Talbot obviously was smitten with her
but, knowing her type, the lieutenant
thought it likely that she had other suitors
—possibly with underworld connections,
accounting for her attitude toward police
officers. He summoned Carter and asked
the detective to bring the girl into his
office. ‘

Seated in front of his desk, Cathy Phil-
lips indignantly asked McDermott to get
the questioning over with in a hurry be-
cause she had a heavy date that evening.

The lieutenant, following the old rule that
more flies can be caught with honey than
vinegar, promised he would let her go as
soon as possible. Then, in a gentle voice,
he won her confidence by asking disarming
questions about her family, her church,
what movies she had seen lately, her
opinions on things in general.

The blonde softened under this treat-
ment and began to talk.

“To tell the truth, Cathy,” McDermott
said paternally, “this is the pleasantest task
I’ve had since the case broke. It’s nice to
sit down and talk to a girl like you instead
of the mugs we usually get in here.”

The girl smiled Warmly.

“You know, cops are human, too,” he
went on. “Yesterday, for example, I had
a good tip on a horse—Sweet Bud..I didn’t
play him and what do you know? He paid
off at 40 to one!”

“Sucker!” she responded, laughing. “I
put $10 on Sweet Bud’s nose and.made
enough to do my Christmas shopping—
and then some. I’m going to collect to-
night.”

“Where’d you place the bet?” McDer-
mott inquired.

“My boy-friend handled it for me. When
he gets a sure thing, I always take his
advice and play it.” ;

“I didn’t know Sam Talbot was a
bookie,” countered the lieutenant.

The girl laughed again. “I don’t mean

to marry—Eddie Byrne—and he’s no
bookie. He’s an electrician. But there’s a
fellow who goes with my aunt that takes
bets, and Eddie places them with him.”
McDermott smiled. “Say, maybe I ought
to see Eddie and put some money down on
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my time with Cathy,” Byrne said, “and I
knew he had a Hudson he parked in the
street outside his rooming house. I wanted
to make trouble for him, and it was my
plan to return the car to its original park-

ing place, so he’d be in the soup in case |

it had been spotted.”

Since Byrne was an electrician it was a
simple matter for him to short-circuit the
ignition switch with a jumper. But he
insisted that he did not have a gun, but
merely pretended to have one. :

“T ran out of the restaurant as soon as
the shooting started,” the prisoner con-
tinued, “and I didn’t know Miller pumped
three slugs into Lieutenant Kemmer.
When he joined me in the car, he said:
he had only pinked the cop.” ;

Byrne readily signed his statement and
McDermott organized a raiding party to
storm Miller’s rooming house. Half an
hour later they arrived at the address
furnished by Byrne, on Stuyvesant Ave-
nue in Brooklyn. Sweeping aside the land-
lady who would not honor the search
warrant they carried, the detectives dashed
up to the second floor and back to the
room Byrne had described.

The door was locked and there was no
response to repeated knocks. Carter backed
away and snapped the lock with the im-
pact of his husky shoulder. As the door
burst open, they caught sight of a tall man
diving for the window.

McDermott stopped him cold with a gun
in his ribs. Making a search of the room,
the detectives found a blue chinchilla over-
coat with a snagged sleeve in the closet.
And under the mattress on the bed they
discovered a_ .32-caliber revolver with

three cartridges missing from the chamber! |
Later tests proved it was the murder gun.

McDermott snapped handcuffs on the
burly prisoner and took him back to the

Glendale station, where fingerprints re- ,

vealed that his real name was George
Appel. His long police record showed that
he was 41, married and the father of two
children. He was separated from his wife.

Justice moved swiftly. Six days later, on
December 28, Appel and Byrne were in-
dicted:on a charge of first hat murder.
On January 11, 1928, they were placed on
trial in the old Queens County courthouse

| at Long Island City. :

The jury brought in a verdict. of guilty
against Appel, but disagreed on Byrne,

| whose lawyer had represented him as an

innocent dupe. Realizing that he was
lucky to have escaped the electric chair,
Byrne promptly pleaded guilty to second
degree murder and second degree armed
robbery. He was sentenced to from 20
years to life on the murder charge and
to from ten to 20 years:on the robbery
count, the terms to run consecutively.

On August 9, 1928, George Appel, alias
George Miller, was executed at Sing Sing
for the murder of one of New York’s
Finest.

Completely hardened by a long life of
crime, the doomed man met his death be-
fore the usual roomful of witnesses with

“Okay, you guys,” he said hoarsely,
forcing a grin to his greying lips, “now

| | youre going to see a baked Appel.”

If there was any laughter, he heard it
in Hell.

Eddie Byrne, still in prison today, failed
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At i from the lieutenant, Detective
Orbe tet her as she left the squad
room,

Carter was waiting outside the girl’s
rooming house at 9 that night when a
neatly-dressed young man mounted: the
steps, rang the bell and entered. In a few
minutes he came out with Cathy Phillips
on his arm, and the detective stepped out
of the shadows ‘into the light of the street
lamp, directly in their path.

“IT want to talk with you, Eddie,” Carter
said, showing his shield. “Come along
down to the station.”

The girl’s eyes flashed. “You dirty cop-
per!” she shouted. “What do you want
with my Eddie?”

“That depends on what he has to say,”
the detective replied, grasping the suspect’s
arm firmly.

At the station Eddie Byrne told McDer-
mott that he was 24 and never had been
arrested before. Before questioning him,
the lieutenant placed him in'a lineup with
a dozen other prisoners and brought in
Heise and Schneider, the restaurant em-
ployes. Unhesitatingly the witnesses picked
“ Byrne as the robber who had bound

em. ‘ :
In the face of this clinching identifica-
tion, Byrne’s nerve failed him and Mc-
Dermott had little difficulty in extracting
the full story of the crime from him. ,
e prisoner said he had been going
with Cathy Phillips since the previous
June and planned to marry her. About a
month collins, Cathy arranged a double
date with her aunt and another man.
They went to the home of the aunt, Mrs.
Anna Carpenter, in Brooklyn, where she
introduced them to her boy friend, a tall,
usky man with expensive clothes named
George Miller.
The foursome went dancing and during
the evening Byrne and the other man

grew friendly and confidential over their,
drink .

“Miller said he had. just come back from
Chicago where he had a contact with the
Johnny Torria mob,” Byrne related to the
detectives. “He said they were setting him
up in the bookie business here and asked
me to come in with him. I told him I had
no dough, but he said I wouldn’t need it
—that Chicago would take care of the
money.” .

On this basis the partnership was
formed, with Byrne as the front man and
Miller handling the bets. All went well for
three ‘weeks, when their luck suddenly
turned against them. Miller telegraphed
frantically to the Chicago mob for more
funds, but his wires went unanswered.

‘“There’s: only one thing ‘to do,” Miller
told Byrne grimly. “That’s to pull a heist.
I’ve got a gun, but I don’t know my way
around here as-well as you do. You spot
me a place and I'll knock it off.”

Because he and Cathy Phillips often had
dined in. the neighborhood delicatessen,
Byrne knew it was a busy shop and took
in a large amount of money in a night.
By watching the place, he: was able to
advise Miller of the best time to pull the
robbery.

The oh, went smoothly until the pro-
prietor balked at handing over the contents
of the cash register and, to impress him,
Miller waved the gun threateningly. The
weapon accidentally discharged, but the
shot went wild.

Their loot in this stickup was only $65,
far from enough to cover their pean
losses, and it was soon gone. Miller presse

Byrne to pick another spot for a oldup,

and the electrician decided on the restau-
rant, which he also suspected was a speak-
easy. The date was December 22, 1927, at
the peak of the Prohibition Era.

Planning the job carefully the pair con-
sidered using a car for the getaway.

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| Odds Against
the Corpse.

(Continued from page 29)

moved to the stove where the coffee pot
simmered.

“Talbot,” McDermott began, “a police-
man was killed at 7:30 this morning in a
restaurant not far from here by two hold-
up men,”

The suspect’s. grin vanished. He drew
heavily on his cigarette and doused it in a
tray. “Was my car involved?” he asked
shakily.

“It was,” the lieutenant replied sternly.

“Sam, keep your mouth shut!” broke in
the blonde, a hard glint in her eyes. “You
know this dick hasn’t anything on you!”

McDermott ignored the girl, mean-
while making a mental note that she
seemed to know her way. around.

“How did you know your car was mixed
up in the murder?” the lieutenant asked
Talbot. .

“It wasn’t: in quite the same place as I
parked it last night when I went out to
pick’ it up at noon today,” the suspect
replied. “I thought maybe somebody had
taken a joyride in it, because it was left
in gear—and I never do that.”

“Where were you between 7 and 8
o’clock this morning?” McDermott de-
manded.

“At home in bed,” replied Talbot. “I’m
a bus driver and I finished up about 3
o’clock. I drove the Hudson from the ga-
rage to the rooming house, like I always
do, but today just as I’m climbing out, a
cop comes along and tells me I can’t park
in front of the dump where I live—on ac-
count of complaints. He tells me to park
around the corner, which is off his post, so
I do. Then when I come out to get the car
today, it’s there, all right, only about 100
feet down the block from where I left it.
But what I can’t understand is, I had the
ignition key with;me, so how could any-
body start it?”

“It can be. done,” remarked the lieu-
tenant. “Now you stay here for a minute
and I'll be back.”

He strode out to the front porch and
summoned Carter. “This -Talbot has a
sharp-tongued girl friend who may know
something about the case,” he said. “Take
her down to the stationhouse and see if
you can pry anything out of her. She’s
hard, so don’t hesitate to talk straight from
the shoulder.”

Back in the kitchen, McDermott ex-
plained to the girl, whose name was Cathy
Phillips, what he wanted her to do. She
uncrossed her shapely legs, rose indig-
nantly and with a tug at the skirt of her

tight black silk dress, remarked -risply, _

“So what do I care if some cops want to
start pounding a beat in Staten Island?
That’s your lookout!”

As Carter left with the haughty blonde, ’

McDermott and Talbot piled into the lat-
ter’s Hudson and drove back to his room-
ing house, where the bus driver showed
the lieutenant the spot at which he had
left the car shortly after 3 a.m. that day.
Then he pointed to the place down the
block where he had found the car parked
at noon.

’ "You may have had the ignition key,”
McDermott said, “because I’m inclined to
believe your story that you were in bed
when the murder occurred. But I still be-
lieve it was your car that was used by the
ae to flee. Let’s have a look under the

McDermott had to take but one look at .

the motor to know what had happened. On
the engine, which was heavily caked with

grease and dirt, were unmistakable marks
left by a “jumper” wire whica had been
used to bypass the ignition switch. Talbot
acknowledged that the doors of his car
were unlocked all night. The “jumper”
was a favorite device of car thieves when
they could gain access to the interior of
an auto.

McDermott explained this to Talbot,
adding, “Want to tell me who took your
car places?”

“If I knew,” the owner said earnestly,
“Td tell you. But I don’t. I haven't any
idea who it might have been.”

Fender Bashed

Walking around the machine, the lieu-
tenant noticed that the right front fender
had been caved in. “When did you do
that?” he asked.

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Talbot replied.
“Somebody must have clipped me while I
was parked.” .

“On the right side?” McDermott inquired
archly, picking some flakes of blue paint
out of the dent with his fingernail. “No,
son, this fender was crumpled when your
car sideswiped another as the killers of Ed
Kemmer sped away from the murder
scene. The other machine was blue, and
these bits of paint prove that your auto
was the one involved. But you let: me
worry about finding who drove it. Go
home and: get some sleep—but don’t leave
town until we’ve cleared. up this thing.”

On the way back to the station, McDer-
mott speculated on the extent to which
Talbot might be connected with the crime.
His instinct told him that the suspect was
telling the truth, and there was evidence
that a jumper had been used on Talbot's
car. But the lieutenant by no means ruled
out the stocky young man as a suspect.
The blonde, McDermott’ felt somehow,
could provide the connecting link between
the unrelated facts which so far had been
developed in the case.

But just how did she figure in the mur-
der? Could she have been the one who put
the ‘finger on the delicatessen and the
restaurant where Kemmer was slain? Or
was she just a wise dame with an antip-
athy toward cops?

Cathy Phillips was seated in the squad

, room with Carter, nonchalantly smoking

a cigarette, when McDermott arrived at
the station. The lieutenant summoned the
detective outside. “What does she have
to say?” he asked.

“Not a word,” reported Carter. “That is,
except for cracking wise. If. she knows
anything, she’s not talking.”

“Okay,” said McDermott. “Let her cool
her heels here for a while. When she gets
fed up with waiting, maybe she’ll change
her mind.”

At his desk, the lieutenant found several
routine reports awaiting him. Mrs. Kem-
mer had made a statement to a detective
who called at her home, 95-29 112th Street
in the Richmond Hill section, some two
miles from the Glendale station. It was ten
minutes before 7 that morning, she said,
when her husband had kissed her good-
bye, adding that he would stop off for a
bite of breakfast on the way to report for
desk duty. Since the crime took place
approximately a half-hour later, there was
no chance that Kemmer had paused else-
where before he reached .the restaurant.
Her husband, Mrs. Kemmer assured the
detective, had no enemies of which she
was aware.

McDermott put down the widow’s state-
ment and picked up a telegram from the
Chicago police. The DeLuxe Cafeteria Hat
Shop, the wire reported, unfortunately
kept no record of individual sales. But the
hat left behind by one of the slayers must
have been purchased in Chicago within

‘the last six months, because before that

The moment

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Magazine Pui
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OT tT. Ln ITTY DE TAL CVRT
\PPLEGATE & CREIL tHTON,

=

hae

* Already Dead. oe: 0

say he
te

ONE! OF. as, MOST axing pi: Seroagh emotonai state, she fainted, and

oe difficult, executions which has ever. once, it took almost an hour to revive
Renee place in this country was that of . her.

. Mrs, Mary Frances-Creighton, who was. A few days before her execution she
~ put to death for the murder, with Eve- became partially paralyzed. She took to
ett C. Applegate, of Applegate’s wife _

‘Ada...’ re were many curious angles |

mass, unable to speak above a whisper.
: -to the case, one of the most outstanding, Word of her condition reached the
o« being that Applegate had seduced Mrs.» newspapers and, despite her crime, the
‘the murder ‘was designed to get Mrs. to have her examined by a group of five
eg Applegate out of the way so that Apple-~
fa ‘gate could marry this young girl. ~~ ailment was simply fear.
“Mrs. Creighton was executed at Sing |
eSing on July 16, 1936, During her trial
~ and while an appeal’ was ing, the
i ..,.woman was calm enough. But from the
ie moment her appeal was denied and she. .
“was informed that the governor. had re-_.
pes © sused, to commute her sentence, she be-
. came an unbearable, trial, to, the prison.
officials, ae time in the history of Sing Sing that this
© She would oe eats: SOccasionally: she. had ever been 5 ecessary. ~
could be induced to take a little ice She was taken to that room wearing a
cream, but that was all.. This was with . a3 night dress, kimono and a pair of bed-

- Creighton suffered a-complete collapse.
She was apparently unable to move,
_ Stared unseeingly at the ceiling, did not
- respond to things said. to her and ae
_ peared unaware of her surroundings. It

“no intention. of starving: herself, but © room slippers. In her lap was a rosary. ~
simply because the woman was so over-: e Her face was a sickening yellow. Her |
«eyes were closed. She was either entirely.

come with’terror at the thought of her _
»,coming doom that, the ‘fnuscles of her — “unconscious or literally paralyzed with
: ms throat constricted and it was difficult. fright.’ As the stretcher was wheeled up

for her to swallow... F requently she __ alongside the chair, the rosary dropped

** would lie awake night after night star-:, from her lap, The slight noise which it .

5 -ing at the ceiling. Then, when exhaus- made when it struck the cement floor

, tion overcame her, she ‘would drop off
2 for a few moments. Invariably she, a bomb...
“ ‘would dream of something i in connection ; . When she was lifted into the chair,

& ‘with her execution and would awake ‘,the upper part of her body sagged for-" ”
% with fearful shrieks which sent a chill’ ward. The matrons held it back while |

A, through the very bones of her guards _ ‘the executioner fastened on the body

<.-and of the other Prisoners . within: pears a

ey has %
F vine F RY eg +

ing distance. «3

“wet electrodes’ were applied she showed

7 stand it!” 's he. would: shriek ver: and a the executioner said afterwards,
oe over again, —* _ “as though I were executing a person
¢ = Anoth Another thing. which made. ‘the. ‘situa- Sho was already dead.”

ie ‘tion « even © “more ' difficult was” Mrs.. The — reaction, when ‘the electricity

ee ® | Creighton’s ~ ‘reaction’» when’ ‘another’ was applied, was the same as on that”

risoner was “executed. During the time, oa _of a conscious person. Involuntarily the
5 te was ‘confined, ten , male prisoners

ie While ‘this was going on, the panic- “turned off,:the woman pronounced dead.

ae ‘stricken woman would stand at the door ©. and the shaken and overwrought officials

» of her, cell ipping the bars with an in- | and witnesses filed slowly out of what
Shah which ., whitened her » knuckles. _had now become. an. gir eon! gots

Sever. ., times, "afte ~ such | an over: lit :

FNout get came t ark POR Oe ee Py * oe, be a

meter

_ her bed and lay, an inert and shapeless > _

»~ Creighton’s 15-year-old daughter, and _ public’s sympathy caused the governor ©:
physicians. Their report said that her Gh
On the day of her execution, Mrs.

was decided to wheel her into the execu-
tion chamber on a stretcher, the first . ©

startled those present as though it were

_ strap which kept her upright. When the :

“T can't. stand tr M God, . can’t’ ‘a -not the slightest sign of animation. “I ©

. body lurched, against the restraining:
Walked the last mile. to the lethal: chair.s strap. In two minutes the current was °°

Electrocuted, Sing Sing (Nassau) on 7/16/1926
3 r f \ay / { / Jf +. 4

Blond Hellcat

(Continucd from paye 19)

queried Touhy hopefully.

“Do you want that?”” Miss McFee picked
up a scratch pad. “I thought everyone.
would have it; dozens of persons were
closer to the auto than I, But here it is—
790-748.”

Checking the records of the secretary ‘of:
state, Touhy learned that it had been
issued to Emil Minneci of 3346 West:
Monroe Street.

“First, radio the number to all cars,”
ordered Captain Malone. “Then find out
if the plates have been reported stolen.”

The station commander began to ques-
tion Mrs. George Seigel, owner of a dress
shop at 4730 Sheridan Road. A week be-
fore she had been robbed of two diamond
rings and ninety-five dollars by the Blond
Tigress’ gang.

“They escaped in a car that was parked
in the alley,” she said. “I heard its motor
start, but didn’t see it, as they had locked:
me in a closet.”

The gang had” been in her place of
business for a considerable period while
the vicious gun moll fussed about the
dress racks,.using more care in selecting a
gown to steal than the average woman
exercises in purchasing one.

“Oh, Touhy !” a voice thundered out-
side. “You're wanted on the wire.’

The investigator excused himself and
hurried to the desk sergeant’s- glass: ~
enclosed cubicle. The officer on a high
stool in front of a battery of telephones
shoved one of the instruments toward
Touhy. The caller was a clerk in the
Automobile Division at police headquarters.

“On that number you asked about—
790-748,” he said, “we have no dope:
hasn’t been reported stolen.”

Thoughtfully Touhy stepped across the
lobby and reentered his superior’ 's office.

“Here’s something, captain,” he an-
nounced. “That blond’s license isn’t hot.’

“Isn't hot?” Malone’s chair creaked a:
he swung around. ‘‘That’s odd. The outfit
has pulled a lot of jobs and ought to be
smart enough to use a car with phony
plates. It would be the work of only a
minute to steal a pair.”

“Maybe they did,” pointed out Touhy,
“and the owner hasn’t missed them yet.”

“That's possible,” agreed the com-
mander, “but on the other hand_ their
method of operation indicates they might
be using their own car. In previous ; rob-
heries, you know, they bound their victims
and locked them in closets and back
rooms—gave them no chance to see. the
getaway auto.

“They would have followed the same
procedure in the Hoeh job if he had sub-
mitted quietly as the average citizen does.
They probably figured on leaving him
helpless and strolling out to their crate
without an alarm being given.”

He arose and strapped on his holstered.
revolver, “Call the rest of your squad..
We're going to visit the owner of that
license number—Emil Minneci, isn’t» it?
And he better have a good alibi!”

As the investigators drove toward Min-
neci’s home, their short-wave radio
crackled, and the police broadcaster .an-
nounced :

“Cancel previous message on a_ sedan,
license 790-748. It has been recovered.”

Ordering the squad car halted, Captain
Malone telephoned headquarters’ from a
cigar store. He learned that the vehicle
had been abandoned in the 4600 block on
West Monroe Street.

“\ man left it there,” a detective ex-

“What's yer hurry. buddy—going to a fire?” olained. “Neighbors saw him. walk east

=>

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. 7
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APPLEGATE/CREIGHTON, elec, NYSP (Nassau) 7-16-1936

(AGRESTI. INVENTORY)

CAPITAL PUNISHMENT DATA SHEET

Lew _Yoek
STATE INVENTORY #
OFFENDER: . SOURCE OF DOCUMENTATION
NAME: Mey Francis CREI6H Tow , (TITLE, DATE AND PAGE#)
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DATE EXECUTED: Jaly 16,197 36 t 3s rae
COUNTY: NOSSALL ie ~
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: M~ F~ 19357 72Y
VICTIM: I~ 1E- 1736 GS if
NAME: Bys Ada. Apple Whe, MVS 2 gi fs 1TSR? YEE
RACE: Cee e GE OOP aE sis Ba 1736 :
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BACKGROUND Gao : £191
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Post of TALS RTE NO ar Sani She WAS founder ¢ bast bresclir}t of 1
DATE CRIME ; wit: bl .

commrren: OLN 47, /Y35 (acct, ) Sept 19, 1935 (fivst becawae | \l)

DATE OF ig
SENTENCING: Jan AS, (936 at 1ai4 AM,

DAY OF THE
WEEK EXECUTED: FEW July 16, 192% Thursday

OFFENDER

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we

The Long Island poisoner, Mary Creighton, was partial ; Who better than a nurse can get away with murder. Nurse
to a substance known as Rough on Rats. This ingredient ‘ Dorothea Waddingham apparently got away with it more
she used in cooking dishes specially prepared for her “often than the London. police will ever know. She might
brother, her mother-in-law, and the wife of Everett never have been suspected had she not tried to have the
Applegate. Mary, acquitted of the first two murders body of her last victim. cremated. Suspicious officials

went to the chair with Applegate for his wife’s death. , found morphine after an autopsy. The nurse was hanged.

mau 6 THE BORGIAS

When Barney Wrosch of Wisconsin fell ill of a stomach Truman Gavle of Emmons, Minn., treated his pals Albert |
complaint, his wife Elsie (below) consulted a fortune Knutson and Oscar Rassmussen to drinks out of a bottle

teller who turned up the Five of Diamonds, the poison in his car. Oscar died of strychnine; Albert recovered.

card. However the deck was stacked, it was certainly Inquiry revealed that Gavle’s wife Viola (below) had a

stacked against Barney. He apparently died of cancer lover who'd bought the poison to rid them of Gavle, but - -

but an autopsy revealed arsenic. Elsie was convicted. the wrong man died. Viola and her lover were convicted.

Betty Jean has §
was 16. She ha
thief and a mu

She was |

murderec |

POLICE DRAG |


MURDER ONE [ 220

ing of the previous administration of the poison?” And did you
answer: “Yes”?

. I don’t recall saying that.

. Didn’t you write that word “Yes” in your own hand?

Yes.

. Under oath you said it was true?

Yes.

. And now under oath you say it is not true?

Yes.

. Then one time or other you are lying under oath?

Well, I—no.

. You remember saying you put the arsenic in the dry part
of the eggnog?

A. I don’t—that’s not true.

Q. You remember admitting that “you decided to do away
with her”?

A. That’s not true.

Q. Now, I show you a diagram of the ground floor of your
house at 12 Bryant Place. Do you recognize it?

A. Ido.

Q. If a person stood at the icebox and another person stood
at the table, the view would be obstructed, would it not?

A. Yes, by the partition.

Once again Weeks was trying to show that Mrs. Creighton
could have mixed the poison without Appelgate’s seeing her do
it.

Before she was allowed to leave the stand, Littleton took her
back once more to the confession she had just made in court.

Q. You knew you had given your best friend poison. Is that

OPO PO Po rho >

true?
A. Yes.
QO. You gave a deadly poison to your best friend because you

were afraid of Everett Appelgate?

girl.

221 | Poison and Pedophilia

A. Yes.

Q. You knew the powder was arsenic?

A. Only by his saying so.

Q. So when you put that eggnog on Ada’s table and waited
for her to drink it, you knew there was arsenic in it?

A. That’s true.

Q. You knew when the glass was removed that she had con-
sumed arsenic?

A. Only by his telling me so.

Q. And you stood by and watched her die?

A. I didn’t know she was dying.

Q. You didn’t know she was dying?

A, Well—not exactly.

Mary Creighton had convicted herself. But was she going to
take Appelgate with her?

Those of us who were experienced in trial coverage realized
that only Mary’s word—the word of a thoroughgoing liar—
linked her lover to the crime. That he was an evil, immoral man
was perfectly clear. But his connection with the murder was far
from certain. I was doing my best to be objective about the man,
but when he took the stand I must admit that his round, wet-
lipped, pallid face repelled me as few others have since, And his
testimony was hardly expected to win him any friends.

In response to Weeks’s question as to whether he had ever
given his wife poison, he said: “No, I did not.” He denied any
knowledge of Ada’s murder, insisted that, however she died, he
was completely innocent.

When Weeks asked if Appelgate had had sexual relations with
Ruth, he said: “Yes. I am sorry to say that is so.” Then, under
cross-examination from the prosecutor, he proceeded to reveal in
detail exactly what had gone on between him and the teen-age


MURDER ONE [ 222

In my original report of Appelgate’s testimony I noted that
much of it was unprintable. In those days (perhaps even today)
it was. But I’m including here for the first time excerpts from
the court’s own transcript. I don’t believe there is any other way
to bring home the bland “doesn’t everybody do this sort of
thing?” manner of his admissions.

Q. Appelgate, when did you first begin to have acts of sexual
intercourse with Ruth Creighton?

A. Sometime in the summer of 1935. :

Q. If you can, will you fix a date when these sexual relations
commenced?

A. The only way I can fix it—

Q. I didn’t ask you the way—I asked you if you could fix it?

A. Pardon me. The way I would—

QO. Ijust ask you this, if you would fix that date?

A. Sometime in 1935.

Q. What part of the summer was it?

A. Probably around June or July.

Q. Did an act of sexual relation occur between you at the
Josie Rooney dance?

A. Itdid.

QO. IfI suggested June 22, would that be about right?

A. Yes, I would say it.

Q. So that you contend—you say it was on that occasion, the
Josie Rooney dance recital. If I state the date correctly to be
June 22, then that was the first time?

A. No, I didn’t say that.

Q. Did you have one prior to that?

A. One is correct.

QO. Where?

A. In Roosevelt.

Q. What date?

A. Approximately a week or ten days prior.

223 ] Poison and Pedophilia

Q. And from that time on your sexual relations with Ruth
became a matter of constant practice?

A. Well, the occurrences were not frequent.

Q. Were they this frequent, that upon occasions when you
came over from Baldwin to the Veterans’ Bureau here, that you
made a practice of one day bringing Ruth over and the next day
bringing Agnes over?

A. There was a number of days when I didn’t bring either.

Q. Was that the general practice?

A. Yes.

Q. Throughout the summer of 1935?

A. That is right.

Q. That you would alternate with these girls?

A. Yes.

Q. And you would park your car out here and leave the girl
sitting there until you came out of the office here and then you
would drive off?

A. Yes.

Q. And that happened every day when Ruth’s turn came to
ride with you, that you would ride back of Mitchel Field here in

the vicinity of Baldwin or to Island Park and there have inter-
course with her?

A. There was several places.

Q. Was Mitchel Field one?

A. Yes.

Q. And down toward Floral Park another?

( Witness didn’t answer.)

Q. What other places were there where you held these trysts?

A. The only other place I know of was over at Oceanside
Beach.

Q. That was a practice that obtained almost every other day
with a few exceptions?

A. Yes, it obtained quite frequently.


MURDER ONE [ 218

asked her, “When you took the milk to Mrs. Appelgate and
waited for her to drink it, you knew there was arsenic in it, didn’t
you?” her answer drew a gasp from the jammed courtroom.

“Yes, I did. Mr. Appelgate told me.”

“You stood by and saw this woman, who was your best friend,
die?”

“Yes, I did.”

So startled was Judge Johnson that he leaned over to ask her if
she knew what she was saying. “Yes,” she said, “I know.”

Then Appelgate’s attorney took over. ;

“Now, you say you knew nothing about arsenic,” he began.
“You had a brother, Raymond Avery. He died. I don’t suppose
you know what he died from?”

“No, I do not,” she answered.

“You were tried for his murder?”

“a”

When he asked her about the death by arsenic poisoning of
her mother-in-law, she had to admit that she was tried for that
death, too.

Weeks now began to challenge her claim that Appelgate had
taken her by force the first time they had sexual relations in Ap-
pelgate’s car, a two-door Chevrolet sedan.

Q. You were loath to his advances?

A. Yes.

Q. How did he get you into the back seat against your re-
sistance?

A. He pushed me.

QO. Youwere fighting?

A. Yes.

Q. You fought hard?

A. Yes.

Q. That’s the truth?

A. Yes.

219 ] Poison and Pedophilia

(I remember that to me, and probably to everyone in that
courtroom, the picture of Appelgate—no muscle man he—forc-
ing a woman of Mary’s size—about 160 pounds—over the tricky
folding front seats of a two-door car was just too much.) Weeks
had made his point and he moved to another topic.

Q. You said Mr. Appelgate told you to buy the rat powder?

A. Yes, I said that, but it is not true.

Q. You know you’re under oath?

A. Yes.

Q. Do you remember being asked, “By what means did you
intend giving her the poison?” and answering, “Through her
food”?

A. Ican’t recall saying that.

Q. Did you use those words?

A. I won’t say I didn’t and I won’t say I did.

Q. Didn’t they ask you if you knew you were confessing a
major crime?

A. I believe they did, but I was so worked up—

Q. Yes, you told us that before. But the doctor examined you
before you signed.

A. Yes.

Q. Do you remember saying you put rat poison in her coffee?

A. I don’t remember saying it, but if it’s there, I might have
said it.

Q. Do you remember saying you put another dose in coffee
junket?

A. I don’t recall saying it. I recall reading it.

Q. Were the statements instilled in your mind by others?

A. Yes:

Q. You remember saying: “I am sure there was no rat powder
in the eggnog because I didn’t put any in”?

A. I don’t recall.

Q. Were you asked: “Are you sure Mr. Appelgate knew noth-


MURDER ONE [ 224

QO. That is true, isn’t it?

A, Ye.

Q. Did there come a time when Ruth slept in the bed with
you and your deceased wife?

A. Yes, she did it on five different occasions.

Q. You recollect five. On those occasions, some or all of them,
did you have acts of sexual intercourse in the bed, with your wife
present?

A. On one occasion.

Q. You had intercourse with Ruth in the very bed where your
wife lay?

A: Yes.

Q. Youall slept nude in the bed?

A. Not entirely.

Q. You were nude?

A. ‘Yes.

QO. Stripped nude?

A. Yes.

Q. That is true of the five occasions?

A. Itisnot.

O. Did you ever use pajamas when she slept there with you?

A. Yes.

Q. On how many occasions?

A. Three, I believe.

QO. With all your pajamas on?

A. The top part was off.

QO. Was your wife nude?

A. Yes.

Q. And Ruth slept nude?

A. She came in clothed.

Q. Butshe soon stripped?

A. Yes.

225 ] Poison and Pedophilia

Q. So we have a picture of your wife and Ruth and you in this
bed, nude?

A. That is right.

QO. So that in fact, on a bed fifty-seven inches wide, on five
occasions, with your wife present, Ruth slept with you at the time
when you were nude on two of them, and on one of them, you
had intercourse with her?

A. Yes.

Q. What did your wife say to that?

A. She didn’t know anything about the intercourse.

Q. Do you want this court and jury to believe that on a bed
of those dimensions, you had an act of sexual intercourse with
this girl without your wife knowing about it?

A. Certainly.

Q. You want to urge that upon this court and ask them to
believe it?

A. It is the truth.

Q. So far as your wife was concerned, you think she never
knew of these associations?

A. Notso far as I know.

QO. She permitted this child to come into her bed naked?

A. Yes.

Q. The girl naked and you naked?

A. Weslept that way.

Q. Now, this one occasion when your wife was in the bed,
where was your wife sleeping—on the wall side?

A. No, my wife was on the outside. .

Q. Ruth didn’t have to climb over her to get in back with you?

A. No.

QO. So that your wife before she went to sleep had to know that
Ruth Creighton was lying on the inside between you and her?

A. No, Ruth was on my left and she was on my right.


- 106 Tuey Diep In THE Cua

a bit” upon being informed that she could be com-

elled to take a truth serum “but I told her there was
absolutely nothing to it, that I would take it with her.
I soothed her all I could.”

The district attorney had presented an almost airtight
case against Frances Creighton. But up to this time not
a scintilla of real evidence had been produced against
Appelgate, with the exception of Frances’ second con-
fession which, as Judge Johnson pointed out repeatedly,
"was not binding upon him. Before resting the People’s
case, Littleton made a last ditch stand to implicate Appel-
gate. As has been noted, it was his contention that Appel-
gate had deliberately waited until he was sure that his
wife was dead before he called for help. The times of
the three telephone calls were checked. The first was
made at 6:25 a.M., the last at 7:30 a.m. There was no
evidence to support the supposition that Ada Appelgate
had died before 7:30. The testimony of Creighton, who
was scarcely a friendly witness, served to corroborate
Appelgate’s statements. ;

As Littleton sat down, Weeks approached the bench
with every appearance of confidence.- After briefly

summing up the weakness of the case against his client,

he said, “Where, as here the guilt of the defendant has
not been proved beyond a reasonable doubt, or the pre-
sumption of innocence been rebutted, it is the court’s
duty to direct an acquittal.”

Then a tense silence settled upon the court, many of
the spectators apparently agreeing with Weeks. Judge
Johnson shuffled the papers on his desk. Then without
looking up he answered in a bored voice. “Your motion
is denied.”

#verett Appelgate scanned the faces of the jurors.
They looked almost completely blank. Innocent or guilty
of his wife’s murder, Appy was the self-confessed vio-
lator of a fourteen-year-old girl and the paramour of
her mother. His only safety lay in the legal aspects of

Tue Biack-Eyep Borcia 107: 32

the case, not in the mercy of his fellow men. Slowly he
turned to Frances Creighton. She fumbled with the
catch on her bag, her eyes on her hands. He half-stood as
Weeks approached the table and clutched at his counsel’s
arm. He must have known what lay in store for him—
he was to be the target, not only of Littleton’s contempt
but the cold, vindictive hatred of Frances Creighton.

Things could not have gone worse for Appelgate. The
first witness called by Edwards was Ruth Creighton.
Gone were the slave bracelet, the flippant manner in
which she had previously spoken of “Uncle Ev.” She was
white-faced and trembling, but still an unusually pretty
girl. And as she told her story now, she was an unwilling
partner in the sex acts—a victim of seduction and rape.

The sound of sobbing broke out in the courtroom.
Some of the women who had fought their way in to
witness the drama wept openly. The features of the ©
jurymen hardened. Frances Creighton, without whose
consent Ruth could not have been called, turned away
from her daughter and.stared with blank eyes at the
narrow window beside her. Finally, Ruth herself burst-
into tears. By the time she finished, she had completely |
reversed her previous statements. Her mother, she said,
knew nothing of her affair with Appelgate and he had
promised to marry her. Now at last, a reasonable motive
for Appelgate to kill his wife had been supplied by this
teen-age girl.

Weeks approached the witness stand gingerly. He was
entitled to cross-examination. But what questions could

he ask that would not make matters worse? He spoke

softly. “I am sorry to have to ask you this question: In
your statement to Mr. Littleton did you tell him, in
substance, that you had had improper relations with boys
before you had them with Mr. Appelgate?”

Ruth didn’t look up. Through her tears she mumbled,

“VY es,”?

“And that was true?” '


110 Tuery Diep In THE CHAIR

best friend, for whom she had the deepest affection. Lit-
tleton, reading from her confession, repeated a question
he had previously asked in the courthouse.

“You knew you had given your best friend poison. Is
that true?”

“Ves,” F
“You gave a deadly poison to your best friend because
eles afraid of Everett Appelgate?”

es.

“You knew the powder was arsenic?”

“Only by his saying so.”

“So when you put that eggnog on Ada’s table and
vee for her to drink it, you knew there was arsenic in
it?”

“That’s true.”

“You knew that when the glass was removed that she
had consumed arsenic?”

“Only by his telling me so.”

“And you stood by and watched her die?”

“T didn’t know she was dying.”

“You didn’t know she was dying?”

“Well—not exactly.”

Littleton didn’t press the point further. He didn’t need
to. Out of her own mouth, Frances Creighton had con-
victed herself. The court adjourned for the day. In the
nearby drugstores and bars, bookies were taking bets.
The odds were four to one that Appelgate would be ac-
quitted.. No money passed hands in regard to Frances. Her
conviction was considered certain.

But one thing the gamblers did not take into consider-
ation. Everett Appelgate would take the stand the next
day. His bullet-shaped head, his loose mouth, his heavy
pendulant underlip, his attitude, alternately cocky and
furtive—all were bound to count heavily against him.

His story was straightforward enough, but his manner
did not inspire trust. When asked if he had sexual rela-

Tue Biack-Eyep Borcis eee P|

tions with Ruth, he answered, “Yes. I am sorry to say
that is so.”

Littleton spoke soberly. “We have a picture of your
wife and Ruth and you in this bed nude.”

“That is right.”

“Do you want this court and jury to believe that in a’
bed of those dimensions, you had an act of sexual inter-
course with this girl without your wife knowing about
os ee

“Certainly.”

“You want to urge that upon the court?”

“Tt is the truth.”

Littleton didn’t let up. He exploited every sordid de-
tail. Appelgate was trapped. He could not deny any part
of the story without obviously lying. Yet each statement
further revolted the jury, revealing him as a self-warped
monstrosity. He even had to tell such minute details as
fastening the back garters of Mrs. Creighton’s corset. In
the end he emerged an object of ridicule as well as loath-
ing. As guards led him back to his cell, the crowd booed
him and a woman broke through the police escort to claw
at his face. The papers had whipped up a hysteria of
hatred. There were murmurings of lynching if he should
be set free.

All was over now except the final summations. Weeks
spoke first. He made but one point: Appelgate was guilty
of rape and in due course would be punished for his
crime, but he was not guilty of murder.

Edwards spoke much longer but he added nothing new.
He used the word “putty” ad nauseam. In speaking of

Frances’ second confession, he said, “This putty woman

never showed her: putty stronger.” And finally, “I ask °
you to believe that she is not a smart woman but a ram-
bling woman, then you will know that this putty woman
is not liable for the scheme of which she was made a
part.”

Littleton reviewed the entire case. The last day of

a


Tury Dirp in THE CHAIR

hoped for a miracle—that Frances would change her story
or that Judge Johnson would dismiss the case against
Appelgate for lack of evidence. Actually if Frances
went it alone, her case would be strengthened. But could
he make her realize this? In his talks with her, she had
seemed almost indifferent to. her own fate so long as she
pulled Appelgate down with her. The spectators won-
dered at the weakness of his ‘cae But he was leaving
_ doors open, not committing imself or his client to a
specific course of action.

Weeks moved with equal caution. He threw no ac- =

cusations at Mrs. Creighton. His principal stress bore

on the point that Ap elgate was being tried for one of-
fense only—the murder of his wife—and that any other

crime which he might have committed was irrelevant to

the present trial. The spectators were patently disap- -

pointed. They had fought their way into the courtroom
expecting sensational disclosures, but to date they had
_ heard only polite sparring.

‘ The expected fireworks did not explode until the
afternoon of January 20. el soe it was Charles R.
Weeks, Appelgate’s mild-mannered lawyer, who set

them off. John Creighton was on the stand, a reluctant |

witness for the prosecution. He publicly avowed his
faith in his wife, that he had no slightest suspicion of
her. Weeks rose to question him.

“Do you know a man by the name of Raymond >

Avery?”

2 | do.”

“Is he alive today?”

“He is not.”

“Who is Mrs. Walter J. Creighton?”

“My mother.”

“And is she alive?”

“No. She is not.”

Littleton leaned back, a grim smile on his face. It
was inadmissible for the prosecution to present evidence

Tue Biack-Eyep Borcia 105

concerning Frances Creighton’s previous trials. But now
the defense had elected to bring them into the open.
Littleton could have liked nothing better. It was obvious

to anybody experienced in criminal trials that a bitter _

battle, with no holds barred, must now be waged be-
tween the two defense attorneys. Elvin Edwards came
to his feet protesting angrily but the judge overruled
his objections.

Weeks continued to hammer away at Creighton. Was
it conceivable that Creighton, who ‘had stood trial with
his wife for the murder of Raymond Avery for arsenic

oisoning, should not question her at all when a similar
death took place beneath his own roof?

Grudgingly, Creighton admitted he had asked Frances
a few questions. His obvious reluctance, his hesitations,
weighe more heavily against his wife than an angry ac-
cusation.

Reporters scurrying from the courtroom to put the
news on the wires had to be checked by Judge Johnson.
When Weeks finished with Creighton, he whirled around
and for a moment his eyes met those of Edwards. A
challenge seemed to pass between them.

The trial picked up tempo. The next day, over the
protests of both defense counsels, Frances Creighton’s
three contradictory confessions were read. Edwards
bitterly assailed Dr. Hoffman’s methods of posing as 4
friend to secure Frances’ confidence and of interviewing
her at 3 AM. when she was exhausted by questioning.
His attacks made little impression. Hoffman himself took
the stand. He showed no sympathy for Mrs. Creighton
now. He characterized her as a “super adult, shrewd and
intelligent.”

Was she pliant, easily open to suggestion?

Hoffman answered easily, smiling a little at the jury.
No, he said, Mrs. Creighton resisted every type of sug-
gestion “until the time came when she found peace and
wrote her confession.” Of course, “she was Frightened

5 TEA WARES LESLIE IE

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108 Tuey Diep In THE CHAIR

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Weeks walked away. The next witness was eleven-year-
old Jackie Creighton, but he offered nothing of impor-
. tance. Then Frances Creighton herself took the stand.

Mrs. Creighton looked very prim, very proper, as she
stepped up to the witness box. She pulled her brown
skirt down and composed herself in the big chair. She
folded her hands in her lap, sighed deeply, and managed
a weak smile as Edwards approached. Her story was
basically that of her third confession. Appy had bought
the arsenic and given it to her. She had acted through
fear alone. Edwards hammered home the point. He used
the word “putty” repeatedly. She ha always been
“putty” in the hands of any stronger personality.

The story of the poisoning came to an end. Edwards
looked vaguely uncomfortable. He twisted and turned,
then asked, ‘““When was the first time you had anything
to do with Mr. Appelgate as far as your private self was
concerned?”

“Tt was in 1934. I had gone to a store with him.”

“Now what happened on the way back?”

“He pulled the car over to the side of the road, put
out the lights and started to get abusive.”

“Did he have sexual intercourse with you on this
occasion?” ;

mes,"

“And was it against your will or consent?”
“Against my will.”
: Weeks cross-questioned her concerning this incident.
‘What kind of a car did Mr. Appelgate have?”
“A Chevrolet.”

“Ts it a four-door Chevrolet?”

“No. It has one seat across the back and two seats in
front. The front seats fold under.”

“T see. Now you were sitting in the back seat. Is that
right?”

“No. I was in the front.”

» Tue Brackx-Eyvep Borcia

“Oh, you were on the folding seat—”
“Yes.”
“And he was sitting to your left?”
“Ves,”
“And when he started his advances you were very loath
to receive them?” ;
“¥es... :
“Then how did he get you to the back seat?”
“T told the jury he pulled—”
“T’m asking you now—this seat folds toward the front,
doesn’t it?”
% HY eg.?? :
“Now how did he get you from the front seat into
the back seat against your resistance?”
“He just simply pushed the seat over and pulled me
back.”
“And you were fighting all the time?”
“Yes, I was.” . :
“You did everything in your power to keep this man
from having his sexual act with you?”
“T did, yes.”
Weeks stopped his questions. Already he could see dis-

’ belief in the eyes of the jury. Mrs. Creighton had branded

herself a liar. No one who had ever driven a two-door
sedan could fail to know that it would be all but im-
possible to force a person into the back seat unless that
person got up first. Moreover, the very idea of slight,
weak-looking Appelgate performing the maneuver with

this one hundred and eighty-five pound woman seemed —

absurd. Frances had been damaged by the obvious lie.
But had Appelgate been helped? Probably not. The whole
affair was too revolting. The feeling was that no rape

~ “had been committed. Even Edwards admitted this. But

no one doubted that Appelgate had been party to an un-
savory sex situation.

The prosecution further damaged Frances’ case. Ac-
cording to her own statement, Ada Appelgate was her

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leaned far back in his swivel chair,
fingers laced behind his head, lips
pursed. “There’s nothing very sus-
picious in what you’ve told me,” he
said mildly.

Patrolman O’Connor nodded his
head in agreement. “This is what
got me, though,” he said. ‘‘There’s
another family named Creighton
who live with the Appelgates and
Mrs. Creighton was put on trial in
New Jersey for the arsenic murder
of a fellow named Avery, Mrs.
Creighton’s brother. She was ac-
quitted of the charge.”

Inspector King’s swivel came for-
ward with a bang. This was an
entirely different matter. Even
though O’Connor had showed him
no connection between a murder
trial years before in which the prin-
cipals were found innocent and a
death the day before which had
been certified as a natural one, one

thing stood out with the prominence
of a beacon light: The symptoms
suffered by Mrs. Appelgate might
also be those of an arsenic poison-
ing victim.

Inspector King’s first move was to
dispatch a pair of detectives to
Everett Appelgate’s home. Appel-
gate was prominent in American
Legion circles, being the commander
of a division which comprised ten
posts. These detectives were in-
structed to inform Appelgate con-
cerning the Jersey trial, and, in view
of this new information, to learn
whether he felt there was something
suspicious about his wife’s death. °

Detectives Hizenski and Bedell,
who received. this assignment, re-
turned a short while later to report
that Appelgate told them that he
was aware of the New Jersey inci-
dent, and that there was nothing
suspicious concerning his. wife’s

death. It would have been impos-
sible for anybody to have done any-
thing to his wife without his knowl-
edge, he said, because he was at his
wife’s bedside throughout the night
she died.

On the heels of this report one of
Inspector King’s assistants handed
him a file containing three letters.
These had been turned over to the
police department by Everett Ap-
pelgate two months before with the
request that they be investigated.
They were anonymous communica-
tions addressed to Mr. Appelgate
excoriating him in bitter terms. The
letters were written upon cheap,
ruled notepaper that had been torn
from a pad. Glue still adhered to
the top edge.

One of the letters read in part:
“Appelgate is no good and never
was. He is a wolf in sheep’s cloth-

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ing and is on\the make for every
woman he meets. As for his wife,
her mouth is togdjbig. She tells a lot
of lies about the people she lives
with and they aré foolish to let her
pull the wool ove their eyes that
way.” \,

The case was becoming more and
more intriguing even, though there
was still no evidence that a crime
had been committed.

Inspector King ordered an im-
mediate autopsy and the body was
removed from the undertaking es-
tablishment, where it had already
been embalmed, to the County
Hospital. _Here Dr. Carl A. Hette-
sheimer, the medical examiner,
performed the operation and tele-
phoned his findings to Inspector
King. He reported that the kidneys
were swollen to twice their normal
size, while the liver was badly in-

flamed. Arsenic has a predilection
for the liver and kidneys and could
affect them in this manner. How-
ever, it was impossible for him to
say definitely whether or not this
woman had died of arsenic poisoning
until he received a report from Dr.
Gettler, famous toxicologist, who
was making chemical analysis of the
organs.

It would take at least five days
for Dr. Gettler’s report to come in.
This meant that the police would
have no way of knowing whether
or not Ada Appelgate’s death was
the result of a carefully laid murder
plot or of natural causes.

Rather than permit this length of
time to go by—time in which clues
could be destroyed and the trail
grow cold—Inspector King went on
the assumption that it was a homi-
cide.

It was almost ten o’clock at night
when the report from the medical
examiner reached him. Immediately
thereafter he climbed into his police
limousine with three of his men,
drove rapidly to Bryant Place,
Baldwin. Twenty minutes later they
pulled up in front of the modest,
stucco bungalow that served as
the home for the Appelgate and
Creighton families.

Mrs. Creighton answered the
knock on the door. Her appearance
was that of the ordinary middle
class housewife. She was tall, of
robust build and had long black
hair parted on one side and rolled
in a large bun on the nape of the
neck. If her general appearance

seemed to say that this was only a
housewife, her eyes told a different
story. Black and piercing, she was
able to make (Continued on page 51)