New York, C, 1897-1988, Undated

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‘Wake up,’
ry Wright’s
su been all

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eaned away
nedly: “It’s
’ was made
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use kitchen.

the eenter
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could

anyone have for planning the death of
Harry Wright? None that I could figure
out. +

As a matter of routine I began checking
up all the people who lived at and fre-
quented Woodbine Inn. There was Eva
Coo herself, Harry Nabinger, Martha
Clift, Gladys Shumway and Edna Han-
over. The last three were‘ simply gay
girls of the community; there was nothing
sinister connected with their past; Nabin-
ger was supposed to have left a wife and
five children living in Detroit, Michigan,
when he had come to live with Eva Coo.
He was supposed to be weak and con-
vivial, never dangerous.

Eva Coo’s past was mysterious. She had
once had a husband somewhere up in
Canada but she had left him, moved to
Connecticut, later appearing in Oneonta,
where she lived at 29 Chestnut Street.
She had become a familiar figure in the
town’s streets; she usually walked along
with manlike strides, bare-headed, wearing
a leather jacket or sweater. Later, she
had moved to the roadhouse on the Al-
bany road.

Thus the general outline of Eva Coo
and her friends.

UNERAL services for Harry Wright

were held on Saturday afternoon, Eva
Coo making the arrangements and paying
expenses. An insurance policy for four
hundred and sixty dollars held by Wright
covered these costs.

On Monday, June 18th, the mangled
remains of the little handyman were
carted over to his native Portlandville to
be buried in the Wright family plot be-
side his mother and father. There were
four mourners, Eva Coo, Harry Nabinger,
the undertaker, and an assistant. Eva
wept softly. She apparently had been
very close to her handyman, for her
name was earved on the family grave-
stone beneath the names of the various
Wrights.

Before the burial, I had communicated
my suspicions of Wright’s death to the
Otsego County District Attorney, Donald
H. Grant, and had received his quick
and hearty assurance that he would back
me up in any investigation. There didn’t
seem to be much to investigate, but on
Monday morning something happened.

Trooper Cadwell received a phone call.
A woman called from Milford, near Port-
landville, and told the trooper she had

‘ important information. Cadwell drove to

the address given; a pleasant-faced

woman opened the door.

“You're Mrs. Eva Fink?” Cadwell
asked.

The woman beckoned him inside. “I
am,” she said. “Now I want to tell you
something.’ I happened to read in the
paper how Mrs. Coo said she had been
home all the evening Harry Wright was
killed, except for a short drive to buy
cigarettes. I want to tell you she wasn’t
home.”

“No?” exclaimed Trooper Cadwell.

“No,” repeated Mrs. Fink. Then she
told the young officer an astounding story.

Cadwell used her phone to reach me
and explained briefly. I asked him to
bring her over to my Cooperstown office.
Without waiting for her, I called a car
and with three of my deputies sped toward
the Eva Coo roadhouse. We found Wood-
bine Inn locked up. Eva was still away at
Harry Wright’s burial services.

“Let’s talk to some of the neighbors
while we’re waiting,” I said to one of my
assistants, Undersheriff Brady. “They may
have some ideas.”

The first stop Brady and I made was
at the home of Mrs. Clara Meyers, Eva
Coo’s nearest neighbor. We interviewed
Fred Palmer, the hired man.

True Detective Mysteries

“Did you see Mrs. Coo the night Harry
Wright died?” I began bluntly.

Fred Palmer looked away; I saw he
didn’t want to talk.

“Give me the truth,” I said sternly.

Fred scratched his head. “Yes, I saw
her. I was over at her house most of
the evening listening to the fight.”

“She was there all evening?”

“No.” Fred was embarrassed. “When I
went over the first time at seven o’clock
she wasn’t there. But the lights were
on. When I returned after nine o’clock
she was there. I stayed until after Wright’s
body was found, and until after Eva and
Edna Hanover brought Harry Nabinger
back from Oneonta. He was drunk.”

Fred Palmer stopped, but I thought he
had more to tell. I said sharply:

“What else happened?”

Fred stared at me with troubled eyes.
“T always liked Eva Coo,” he said. “Well,
I'll tell you. She came over here next
morning and asked Mrs. Meyers and me
to help her out. She said if anybody in-
quired where she was on'the evening of
June fourteenth to say she was home.

The driveway near the haunted house.

Cross marks the spot where the victim

lay dead under the sedan while several

people sat on the porch and talked
casually

She seemed worried. She said she thought
there might be trouble over Harry
Wright’s death.” :

“Trouble?” I echoed the word. Why
had Eva Coo thought at that time that
there might be trouble? The story of the
hit-and-run accident had been accepted by
Trooper -Cadwell and the examining
physician. Was it fear that had driven
Eva to these kind neighbors for aid in an
alibi? Fear of what?

As Brady and I hurried back to Wood-
bine Inn a car hummed down the high-
way and swung into the drive. Eva her-
self and Harry Nabinger stepped out.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” was Eva's
cool grecting. “We’ve‘just come from the
cemetery; they’ve buried Harry.”

I waited a moment, then said gravely:
“Mrs. Coo, we'd like you to run over
with us to Cooperstown. We have a few
questions we’d like answered.”

“All right,” she agreed forthrightly.
“Let’s go now.”

She stepped back into her car; we put
Nabinger into a separate car. We reached
Cooperstown in a short time—it’s only
twenty miles from Eva’s place. I had
Nabinger shunted off alone to a room in
the court house while I ushered Mrs. Coo
into my office. Then Mrs. Fink was
brought in.

If Eva was bothered by seeing Mrs.
Fink she didn’t show it. Her blue eyes
were wide and staring, her hands lay re-
laxed in her lap. I turned to Mrs. Fink.

“Please relate the details you told
Trooper Cadwell,” I said.

“T will.” Mrs. Fink nodded vigorously.
“On the evening of June fourteenth I

71

happened to be on Crumhorn Mountain
in a car. I was with friends, Mr. and Mrs.
Benjamin Hunt, and their children. They’ll
verify everything I say. You see, I own
the abandoned Scott house on the moun-
tain top. We were driving near it.”

I nodded, and watched Eva Coo. Her
hands were still relaxed. The Scott house
is a queer, tumbledown old place set
deep among a heavy cluster of trees.
Some people call it the haunted house.
It’s like something from the eerie past;
inside it are oldfashioned chairs, tables,
a venerable organ. In the huge barn be-
hind it is a buggy, unused for years. Mrs.
Fink continued: :

“Some neighbors stopped our car. They
told us strange people were lurking near
my house, perhaps to rob it. The Hunts
agreed to help me investigate and as we
approached the house I saw car headlights.
The headlights were blazing down toward
the road, the car was in the driveway
close to the house.

“We drove into the driveway a little
way, then I, got out and walked toward
the strange car, a heavy sedan. A woman
was standing beside the sedan—Mrs. Coo.
Another woman, wearing horn-rimmed
glasses, was inside at the wheel. I didn’t
know her.

“I demanded to know if Mrs. Coo had
been taking things from my house. She
denied it and became vehement. She
threw open the sedan doors and told me
to look inside. I did and saw that nothing
had been taken. Then she offered to take
me down to her house and let me search
that.”

I interrupted Mrs. Fink’s narrative.
“What time did this happen?”

“Shortly after dusk,’ Mrs. Fink an-
swered. “About eight-thirty o’clock. I
couldn’t figure out why two women should
be alone on Crumhorn Mountain at that
hour. But it was plain they hadn’t stolen
any of my furniture.

“Then something else happened. I
wanted Mrs. Coo and her friend to leave
first, but the Hunts and I couldn’t out-
stay them. We sat down on ‘the steps
of my house and talked, but those two
women just stuck there. Finally we left.
When we had gone a short distance I
looked back. I saw that the big sedan
was leaving, too.”

Mrs. Fink stopped talking; Eva Coo’s
hands still lay relaxed in her lap and a
img smile touched her lips. I turned to
her.

“Well?”

‘ES true.” Eva spoke quietly, as if the
fact were of no importance. “I was on
Crumhorn Mountain for a few moments
that evening. I just hadn’t thought to
mention it to anyone.”

“And the woman with you?”

“That was my friend, Martha Clift. We
went there to dig up a few shrubs. We
meant to plant the shrubs about the
roadhouse.” ‘

I leaned back in my chair, studied Eva’s
face. There was no tremor in that face
or throat; her calmness made our sus-
picions seem trivial.

“Why,” I demanded, “did you ask Fred
Palmer to say you were home all evening?
Why did you tell him you thought there
might be trouble over Harry Wright’s
death?”

“T don’t recall saying anything like
that,” Eva answered in the same quiet
voice.

I left Mrs. Coo under guard in my office
while I went outside to think things over.
Two facts stood out in my mind: First,
physicians placed the time of Harry
Wright’s death at about 8:30 Pp. M., and
Mrs. Fink believed she had scen Mrs. Coo
and Martha Clift on Crumhorn Moun-


72

True Detective Mysteries

This unpublished police photo was taken in Sheriff Mitchell’s office at.the Coopers-

town; New York, Court: House the morning after Martha Clift’s final confession.

Mrs. Clift is shown right with Eva Coo. The three officers in the picture, who worked

on the case, are, left to right: Patrolman Bert Face of the Oneonta Police Department,

-Trooper Ernest Maynard, and Sergeant John L. Cunningham, Cooperstown State
. Police Post

tain at that time. Wright had not been
with them, so it didn’t seem as if they
we Nis anything directly to do with his

/eath,

I questiuned Harry Nabinger and got
nothing. He simply said that he had
been so tight on the evening of June
14th that he had only the haziest recol-
lection of where he had been and what had
happened to’ him. But he was sure he
knew nothing of Wright’s death.

I sent two of my deputies to check
Nabinger’s movements on the fatal night,
I also asked the co-operation of the
Oneonta Police in picking up Martha
Clift, Edna Hanover, and Gladys Shum-
way. The Oneonta officers couldn’t lo-
cate the Clift woman but they soon found
Mrs. Hanover, and’ Mrs. Shumway.
Martha Clift and Gladys Shumway shared
a small apartment on Oneonta’s Main
Street and Edna Hanover lived just
around the corner.

Now things began to happen with
crackling speed.. The Oneonta Police
learned that Mrs. Hanover and Mrs.
Shumway possessed important informa-
tion.

IRST, Edna Hanover told of the
strange situation in the kitchen at

. Woodbine Inn when she and Eva Coo had

brought intoxicated Harry Nabinger back
to that spot after Wright’s body had been
discovered and Nabinger had cried:

“T saw Harry Wright not more than five
minutes before he died and five minutes
after he left the house! He did not die
where he was found!”

Did these cryptic words mean that
Nabinger was directly involved in the
crime? I questioned him again, but got
nothing. He couldn’t remember,

Then Edna Hanover talked some more.
Mrs. Coo, she said, had remarked: “dna,
there’s going to be trouble over this. I

may need you to prove I was home on the
night of June fourteenth.”

There it was again—the same plea from
va Coo for help in preparing an alibi!

Our information from Gladys Shumway
was even more damaging. Mrs. Shumway
explained how Martha Clift had reached
the apartment the two women shared

around 9 p.M. on June 14th.

i: ARTHA was driving a heavy sedan,”

said Mrs. Shumway. “She told me
she had got it that same afternoon from a
garage in the town of Franklin. At Eva
Coo’s suggestion, Martha said, she had
told the garage owner that she wanted to
try the car out and that if she liked it she
would buy it. But she really didn’t intend
to buy it, so now she was returning it to
the garage. She asked me to drive over to
Franklin with her and I agreed. As we
drove toward Franklin she remarked:
‘Harry Wright’s dead’ ”

The implications in this statement were
startling. If Gladys Shumway was telling
the truth Martha Clift had made the re-
mark about an hour before Harry Wright’s
body was discovered.

Martha Clift was a key figure—to find
her was our next task. But Martha was
elusive. Officers shadowed her apartment
at 220 Main Street; they also watched
the home of her mother on the outskirts
of Oneonta. This went on for hours with-
out results.

Meanwhile, I asked myself more ques-
tions: Why had Eva Coo and Martha
Clift “borrowed” a heavy car. from the
Franklin garage, and why were they
anxious to get it back there so quickly?
Why should anyone want to kill Harry
Wright? How could his death profit
anyone? He had no money, no enemies,
The crime lacked motive. ; ;

Then came another break to help us.
Trooper William Cadwell was driving

through Oneonta when a man hailed him
from the sidewalk. ‘The man, Earl Ames,
was a former schoolmate. .

“Hello, Bill,” said Ames, “I understand
the Sheriff and all you boys are investi-
gating Harry Wright’s death. I under-
stand you think there was only four hun-
dred and sixty dollars insurance on him.
You’re wrong.”

“What do you know?” Cadwell leaned
out of his car.

Ames was the assistant manager of a
great life insurance company’s local office.
“I know Harry Wright applied for and
got a number of policies,” he asserted
stoutly. “Either he applied for them or
someone else did it for him. They’re in
various companies and they’re for small
amounts but they total a substantial
sum.”

Trooper Cadwell whistled in astonish-
ment, thanked his friend and sped away.

Within five minutes he had relayed the
information to me and our next move
was under way. ‘Two state troopers,
Knapp and Maynard, were sent post-
haste to search Woodbine Inn. When
they reached the place late that Monday
afternoon storm clouds had gathered. The
sky was almost dark.

sshd and Maynard forced their way
into the kitchen. From the dimly
lighted house came the shrieks of Eva
Coo’s several pet parrots, the bark of her
dog, the cry of her hungry cat. Knapp and
Maynard slipped into Mrs. Coo’s bedroom.

They started to search the place sys-
tematically and before long they found
something. Hidden in the bottom of a
bureau drawer were four life insurance
policies made out for small amounts. Two
covered Harry Wright’s life, one pro-
tected Martha Clift, another Eva Coo
herself. While the troopers were search-
ing, Iva Coo staged a scene before me
in Cooperstown. She declared that her
pet animals were hungry and _ insisted
that she be allowed to go home to fced

them. She got hysterical about it.

By this time I thought that Troopers
Knapp and Maynard had had time to
finish their hunt. “All right,” I told her.

“You may go home, feed your animals

and come right back. I’ll send my son and
Undersheriff Brady to guard you.”

Then Eva calmed down. ° Before she
and her guards left Cooperstown, I sent
Sergeant John L. Cunningham of the
Cooperstown State Police on ahead to see
if Knapp and Maynard had finished. When
Cunningham arrived Knapp and Maynard
had just found the four insurance policies.

“You fellows will have to stop this!”
exclaimed Cunningham. “Eva’s on_ her
way.’ You can finish the search after she
leaves.”

Knapp and Maynard hurriedly shoved
the four insurance policies back into the
bureau drawer where they found them.

.Then, with Cunningham, they rushed out-

side and hid in on outbuilding, just be-
fore Undersheriff Brady and my _ son
arrived with Eva Coo. The two guards
stayed: with her while she fed her pets,
and allowed her to go into her bedroom
and change her clothes. Within ten
minutes she had made the change aad
was on her way back to Cooperstown.

Now Knapp and Maynard rushed back
into the roadhouse. The storm clouds
had broken, shafts of lightning played
wickedly about Woodbine Inn and thun-
der rolled over Crumhorn Mountain, In-
side the parrots still screamed and the dog
howled.

Knapp and Maynard headed directly
for the bureau drawer where they had re-
turned the four life insurance policies.
They. yanked the drawer open, threw
clothes out on the floor, then stared at

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threw
red at

each other in consternation. The policies
were gone!

Had Eva Coo concealed those policies
on her person when she changed her
clothes, or had she found a new hiding
place for them in the bedroom? These
questions tormented the two troopers as
they frantically began a new search. They
went through all the bureau drawers and
the drawers of a small dressing table;
they looked under a rug, examined the
bedclothes and mattress. Nothing there.

There was one other hiding place, a
closet, and the door was locked. Knapp
and Maynard broke it open, took all the
clothes from the hooks. The policies had
not been pinned inside Eva’s clothes. The
closet was deep and dark; when the troop-
ers had finished pulling all the clothes
out they saw something way in the back.
Tt was a small heap of clothes carelessly
dropped in a corner.

Knapp went inside, picked up these
articles, gave an exclamation. Tucked
neatly in the corner. under the clothes
were policies—but more than four.

Knapp came out of the closet with his
hands full of papers. He spread them out
on the bed. Then he and Maynard
counted fifteen life insurance policies in-
cluding the four they had previously
found. Seven of them had been taken out
in various companies on Harry Wright's
life during March. Each was for a small
sum, but counting the double indemnity
in case of accidental death they totaled
ten thousand dollars.

The policies were rushed to Coopers-
town; now we had a motive, sharp and
significant. Little Harry Wright was worth
nothing alive but he was very valuable
dead! We located his will in the hands
of an attorney and found that Iva Coo
was named as beneficiary.

We had evidence, we had a motive and
—our aggressive district attorney, Donald
Grant, was working hard on the case. But
Eva wouldn’t talk. We knew we must
capture Martha Clift before we could
bring to light the dark story of crime.
Martha was almost as important as Eva
herself.

It was dusk of that Monday afternoon,
rain was falling in torrents. In Oneonta
and throughout the Valley deputies were
searching, searching—for a rather heavy-
set young woman with dark, bobbed hair,
wearing glasses and wearing a light dress
under a short leather coat. That was
our description.

MAN stood in a dark doorway oppo-

site 220 Main Street where Martha
Clift had shared her apartment with
Gladys Shumway. He stood there all after-
noon, all evening, until that midnight, in
the pouring rain. His eyes were fixed upon
the third story front windows opposite,
but Martha didn’t return. He was City
Marshal Harold Hall.

Outside Oneonta another vigil was in
progress. Next to a big red barn near the
Hamilton Farms was an old unpainted
building once used as a_ schoolhouse.
There Martha Clift’s mother lived, caring
for Martha’s two children.. From the red
barn Officers Bert Face and Frank Golding
of the Oneonta Police kept watch upon
the house. They knew Martha Clift was
not inside.

“The rain flooded the hillside and poured
through the barn’s leaky roof. Lights in
the old schoolhouse went out, midnight
passed. The officers shivered, the storm
wouldn’t let up. It was almost 2 o’clock
in the morning when something happened.

A woman picked her way up the muddy
hillside road, without an umbrella,
drenched to the skin. Sse moved with
faltering, tired steps. She had almost
reached the schoolhouse when the of-

True Detective Mysteries

ficers seized her. Martha Clift was caught!
Martha was hurried to Cooperstown
where she faced District Attorney Donald
Grant and myself for questioning. But
our feeling of triumph at her capture
was short-lived; she talked but refused
to give us any information. Both she
and Eva Coo were fighting us, fighting
for their lives like trapped animals.
Grant directed the’ questioning, using
what information we had, first to break
Eva’s story, then Martha’s_ story. But
both women insisted they’d had nothing
to do with Harry Wright’s death and

knew nothing about it.

In desperation we took Martha Clift
back to the Oneonta Jail. We thought if
we continued questioning her away from
Eva Coo in Cooperstown we might get
better results. No threats or force was
used, just a steady stream of questions.

District Attorney Grant believed the
hands of these two women had touched
murder; now he wanted to know: How
had Harry Wright been murdered? Had
Eva Coo and’ Martha Clift both had a

part in the crime? Had anyone else been ,

involved? If Eva and Martha were both
involved which one was the instigator?

Meanwhile, we checked back further
upon Harry Wright’s life. We learned
that when te had come to live with Eva
Coo in 1931 he had had two bank ac-
counts of fifteen hundred and three hun-
dred and twenty dollars. Now they were
gone, We found that Mrs. Coo had re-
newed a fire insurance policy on a house
which Wright had owned in Portlandville.
Shortly after the renewal the house had
burned down. The money, paid to Wright,
had vanished. More money realized later
from the sale of the lot where the house
had stood had also been spent.

H* his money been legitimately spent
by Harry Wright or for him? We
couldn’t be certain. Checking the finances
of Eva Coo we learned that she had been
in need of money just before Wright’s
death. The 1933 taxes on her roadhouse
were unpaid, so were the taxes on a house
she owned in Oneonta.

We re-questioned Harry Nabinger,

73

Gladys Shumway, and Edna Hanover. It
soon became apparent that Gladys and
Edna were in the clear and that Harry
Nabinger’s alibi for the night of the crime
was airtight.

’Nabinger was a puzzling figure, then and
now. His character was weak rather than
sinister; he had lived with Eva Coo,
allowed’ her to support him, spent her
money for liquor. She had fallen in love
with him on the day when he first visited
her roadhouse as a furnace salesman. By
his ingratiating manner he had sold him-
self to her rather than a furnace.

We couldn’t . understand Nabinger’s
quoted remarks on the night of the crime
—that he had seen Harry Wright five
minutes before his death and that Wright
had not been killed where his body was
found. Another remark attributed to
Nabinger suggested that he had feared
for his own life.

DNA HANOVER told us how she and
iu Eva Coo had encountered Nabinger
intoxicated on the road the day after the
crime. The two women were in a car and
Eva had begged her lover to climb inside.
She had expressed:a fear that he might
be run over. But Nabinger had_refused.
He had suddenly turned upon Eva, ex-
claiming:

“If I get hit by a car you won’t have
to hire someone to kill me!”

That was Edna Hanéver’s story. We
found that Eva Coo had had Nabinger’s
life insured for a thousand dollars but the
policy had lapsed when the first payment
wasn’t paid. Nabinger himself told us
how he had written numerous letters,
under Eva Coo’s direction, obtaining the
insurance upon Harry Wright’s life. Let-
ters of application for insurance in his
handwriting but with Harry Wright's
name signed to them had gone out to
companies all over the country.

Gladys Shumway added another bit_ to
the picture. She told us how Mrs. Coo
had sometimes abused Harry Wright
physically, once knocking him down. We
began to see Eva, not as a big-hearted
woman mothering her crippled handyman,
but as a ruthless woman using him and

An official photo of the haunted house in the driveway of which Harry Wright was
murdered

ye

ES:

74

killing him for profit. All our informa-
fora grag. toward Eva Coo as the master
mind and Martha Clift as the secondary
figure in the crime.

This led District’ Attorney Grant to a
new course of action. He offered im-
munity to Mrs. Clift if she would tell the
truth. She agreed and Donald Grant
gave her a certificate of immunity.

Martha Clift started talking in Oneonta
at 1:15 a. M. on Wednesday, June 20th.
When she finished five hours later we had
our first view of the horrible crime—in
outline. Eva Coo heard the news of
Martha’s statement in Cooperstown and
jumped from her chair with blazing eyes.
She announced that she wanted to con-
front Martha and make a statement, so
we rushed her across country to the One-
onta Jail.

It was a scene I’ll never forget. Eva
against Martha—both powerful of
physique, harassed, tired, yet crafty. Each
was primitive, direct, vindictive. They
circled about each other, pointed accusing
fingers, raised voices to an hysterical
pitch.

First, Martha’s story. She explained
how she had obtained the Willys-Knight
sedan, at Eva’s suggestion, on the pre-
tense of purchase. Then she told how
Eva Coo had inveigled Harry Wright into
going up Crumhorn Mountain on the
night of June 14th.

HE two women had taken him there

with a tale that they needed him to
help gather shrubs near the haunted house.
Eva’s idea, said Martha. As they drove
up the mountain Eva had ordered the
simple-minded handyman to crouch down
in the back seat so no one would see him.
Presumably this admonition came because
they were about to get shrubs from pri-
vate property.

So Martha had driven the sedan into
the haunted house driveway and stepped
out. She had gone into the near-by woods
for a few moments. Next she had heard
the car’s motor start—the car seemed to
be going backward and forward. When
she returned Harry Wright lay dead in
the driveway.

Eva Coo’s big chest heaved when she
heard this accusation. She turned it aside
with the blunt statement: “It’s a lie!”

Now Eva talked.

She first corroborated everything Martha
had said up to the point where the car
had stopped. Then her story differed.
She swore that Martha Clift had returned
from the woods and climbed into the
driver’s seat. Then she (Eva) and Harry
Wright had started walking down the
driveway in the direction of the haunted
house. Their backs were toward the car.

Suddenly the car had started, borne
down upon them. Eva asserted that she
had jumped out of the driveway to save
herself, but that Martha had knocked
down Harry Wright’ and had run over his
body. Next Martha had driven the car
behind the haunted house, swung it around
and returned. “On the return trip she had
run over Harry Wright again, killing him.

An amazing climax had followed. With
the car stopped over the dead man, and
the wheels straddling his body, Mrs. Fink
and the Hunts had come along. Eva had
stood beside the car while she calmly
talked to Mrs. Fink and the Hunts. And
little Harry Wright, with the life crushed
out of him, had actually lain there_con-
cealed under that sedan while the Hunts
and their children sat on the porch three
feet away!

When the Hunts and Mrs. Fink left, said
Eva, she and Martha had loaded Wright’s
body into their sedan. They had driven
back to a spot near her roadhouse_and
unloaded the body in the ditch, Then

True Detective Mysteries

Martha had returned the sedan to its
owners and Eva had gone back to the
roadhouse.

Obviously, these two stories were part
truth, part lies. Fach woman wanted to
throw the responsibility for the actual
killing upon the other, District Attorney
Grant was thinking hard; he knew he
would have to have the complete truth
to present in court. He decided on a
daring procedure—a reconstruction of the
crime.

On Thursday, June 21st, we exhumed
Harry Wright’s body. That evening at
dusk we took Eva Coo, Martha Clift
and Harry Wright’s remains up the wind-
ing dirt road to the haunted house on
Crumhorn Mountain. Another storm was
marching across the mountain; thunder
rolled in our ears and lightning flashed in
our eyes.

First, District Attorney Grant acted the
réle of Harry Wright, walking down the
driveway with Eva Coo, just as she said
they had walked. Martha started the car
and bore down upon them. Then Eva
took the wheel, brought the car back to
the point where she said it had stood when
the Hunts and Mrs. Fink were there.

Finally, Wright’s poor broken body,
dressed in a suit of borrowed clothes, was
brought out. It was placed in the various
positions where the two women had said
it had rested. ‘

The net results of this gruesome true- .

life drama seemed to be—nothing. Eva
Coo and Martha Clift played their parts
calmly, almost indifferently. Each stuck
to her story. In truth they were both so
insensitive that I believe we, the sur-
rounding officers, were much more deeply
touched than they. We hurried them
back to the Cooperstown jail.

But perhaps that ‘grim scene on the
mountain did bring results next day. At
any rate, District Attorney Grant suddenly
withdrew the immunity he had promised
Mrs. Clift.

“You have broken your pledge and lied
to me,” he said. “Now I can promise you
nothing except to save your life. And I
can’t do that unless I get the complete,
true story.”

ARTHA CLIFT stared at him from

behind her horn-rimmed glasses. Her
eyes twiched, then she said: “I'll tell
yi jamay

Thus the whole story of the brutal
murder came out, just as it was revealed
at the famous trial of Eva Coo. Mrs.
Clift dictated a twenty-eight page state-
ment and signed it. First, she detailed
how Mrs. Coo had planned for months
to murder Harry Wright in a way that
would appear accidental so double in-
demnity could be collected on the insur-
ance policies.

Eva, said Martha, had discussed locking
Wright in a garage while a car’s motor
was running, so the fumes would kill him.
She had also considered locking him in-
side a car while she sent the car crashing

down a steep hillside into the Susque- -

hanna River. These plans were dismissed
as too difficult and dangerous.

There were certain preliminaries: Eva
had had her name engraved on the Wright
family tombstone to make it appear that
she and Wright were closely allied. Eva
had ordered Martha to write down the
date of Harry Wright’s birth in the Wright
family Bible as 1885. Then Eva had had
the date of Wright’s birth on the family
tombstone changed from 1880 to 1885.

In other words, Eya had lowered Harry
Wright’s age five years because the bene-
fits on certain insurance policies were
greater. We examined the tombstone and
found that the figure 0 in 1880 had indeed
been changed to 5.

Now as to the killing itself. When Iva
and Martha drove up the mountain with
Harry Wright the plan, said Martha, was
for Eva to drive the car when they ran
down the handyman. But at the last
moment it was Martha who took the
wheel. She asserted that Eva and Harry
gol oul of the car in the driveway and
walked toward the haunted house. She,
Martha, bore down upon them. Wright,
hearing the car approaching, tried to jump
out of the way.

Then, said Martha, Eva struck the little
handyman on the side of the head with
what appeared to be a small mallet, knock-
ing him in front of the car. The car went
over him, Martha drove on, turned around
behind the house, came back.

But Wright wasn’t dead. Looking up
into Eva Coo’s face the poor little handy-
man had whispered: “Now I know why
you brought me up here!” Then he was
in the path of the car again; this time
the life was crushed completely from his
frail body.

Then had come Mrs. Fink and the
Hunts, and the amazing situation of a
dead man under the car, already described.
A few moments later Martha and Eva
were driving the death car down the
mountain with their pathetic victim in
the back covered with blankets and sacks.

OW was Martha Clift to profit for as-
sisting Eva Coo in this dreadful deed?
Well, Martha said that Eva had promised

‘her two hundred dollars toward the pur-

chase of a new car! .

There’s not much more to tell. Eva Coo
was tried for murder in the first degree
before a jury in the courtroom at Coopers-
town. When she faced that jury on a hot
August day the courtroom was jammed.
Reporters from all the New York City
papers were present; the county, the state
and the nation watched and waited. A
procession of seventy-two witnesses gave
evidence about as I have outlined it here.
Eva Coo was ably defended by Attorney
James Byard, but on the afternoon of
September 7th the farmer jury announced
its verdict.

“Quilty as charged.”

Within a few moments the judge of that
court, Supreme Court Justice Riley H.
Heath of Ithaca, New York; pronounced
sentence—death in the electric chair.

Martha Clift was allowed to plead
guilty to second degree murder. In the
words of the judge she was “sentenced to
serve not less than twenty years nor
more than life in the New York State
Prison for Women at Bedford Hills.”

So the trial was over. And as I write
this Eva Coo is in the death house at
Sing Sing prison, New York, her execution
automatically delayed by notice of her
appeal. The appeal, a thick pamphlet,
lies in the vault behind my office, soon
to go to the higher courts.

I took Martha Clift away to prison and
I took Eva Coo down the river to Sing
Sing. Oddly enough, Eva Coo kissed
Martha goodbye. That strange blond
woman did not harbor any bitter feel-
ings against Martha, nor against Harry
Nabinger, Gladys Shumway, and Edna

Hanover, who testified so damningly
against her. She declared she still loved
Nabinger. The evidence indicated that

she protected him and tried to keep him
as far as possible from the scene of the
crime on that fatal night of June 14th.

Harry Nabinger, Gladys Shumway and
Edna Hanover have dropped from sight.
The yellow roadhouse on the white con-
crete highway has new tenants. When I
drove by there the other day I saw a
pretty dark-haired girl on the porch. But,
curiously enough, Eva Coo’s name was
still on her mail box.


ass and sighed.
nan had found
inn where he
ssed out cold.

und her in the
> had managed
rl and Palmer.
tirl exclaimed.
i flippant self,

more agitated
hough. Harry’s

y from Schen-
car and of the
» rather grisly

cy Wright, lay
k in a shallow
ghway. There
he dead man’s

2 car,” Cadwell

id bitterly.

itching his deft
> of her heavy
d not interrupt
iderlip grimly.

ling the farm-
James, was

d his shoulders.
” he said. “The
ders fractured.
skin crepitus—

nearly missed

ve passed here
“For, in my

‘s.""

sician’s prelim-

1 accident had

\

occurred at early dusk, around 8:30, before it was very dark. |

Winsor and the state trooper began closely scrutinizing

the surface of the highway, using their flashlights. They

were looking for skid marks. But they found none.

“Whoever struck poor old Harry,” one of the onlookers
said, “didn’t even bother to slow down.”

“Harry wasn’t so old,” said Eva Coo, She spoke almost
harshly, as if rebuking even a hint of disparagement con-
cerning one who had been Joyal to her and could no longer
speak up for himself.

“Here’s his cap!” Cadwell called. He was standing ‘in
the shallow ditch, some 20 yards from where the body lay.

The gray cloth cap was closely studied by everyone at
the scene. “Never saw Harry wearing it,” Palmer said.

“Did he have it on, Mrs. Coo, when he left your place j

tonight?” the trooper asked.

“He certainly did not. That’s no cap of Harry’s. He wore

his same beat-up‘old felt hat,” she volunteered.

“Then I’d better keep this,” said Cadwell. “It could
lead us to the hit-run driver.”

“There’s not a splinter of broken glass from headlight
lamps to be seen anywhere,” Dr. Winsor declared. He put
away his flashlight. “It’s the most baffling kind of ‘hit-
and-run case.”

With the permission of the doctor, acting for the county
medical examiner, an undertaker came and took away the
body of the accident victim.

On returning to Woodbine Inn, Mrs. Coo was stolid and
unresponsive. She seemed entirely drained of her usual
heartiness and energy. Fred Palmer and the others had
gone to their homes. The proprietress of the roadhouse and
her entertainer, Lottie James, were left alone. Eva began
switching off lights. There would be no high-jinks out
here this night.

“Say, what about Ernie?” Lottie asked.

“I suppose we got to go look for him,” Eva said after a

Physicians and attorneys exhume Harry Wilcke: ‘bode, Tombstone had bool waadied and ocopirl dated days before the pea Ma

sw

somber pause. “It’s always the same. But I sure hope that

‘ nothing’s happened to him.”

Ernie Tatum was the one permanent—and unpaying—
guest at the Inn. Eva was too fond of him, it appeared, to
heave him out and Ernie was too infatuated with his crav-
ing for alcohol to find a job or resume taking care of
himself.

Gossip in this quarter of the county had it that Ernie
had stopped by Eva’s roadhouse one day to try to interest
the owner in a new furnace. Ernie was then gainfully
employed as a furnace salesman. Also he was debonair,
attractive and younger than his potential customer.

He hadn’t been able to interest Eva in a new heating
appliance for her rowdy roadhouse, but he had received
an. almost immediate invitation to warm the lady’s recep-
tive heart. Instead of selling a furnace, Ernie had bought
himself a red-hot momma, so said the ribald element that
frequented the inn. And Ernie’s irresponsible ways and
lush bouts of imbibing had soon become a byword.

This early morning of June 15th, Eva and Lottie drove
into Oneonta in the latter’s sedan and dragged Ernie Tatum
from the gutter into which he was tottering. All the way
back to Woodbine Inn the two women tried to rouse Ernie
from his numbing alcoholic torpor and acquaint him with
the tragic news about Harry Wright.

“Good ol’ Harry! I spoke with ’im t’night, just ’fore he
went off some place—” Ernie managed to mumble.

“He went off some place, all right,” Lottie said, with her
habitual nervous giggle. “Old Harry’s dead. He tried to

“puck a trailer truck. So poor old Harry’s dead as mackerel.”

“Harry wasn’t so old,’ Eva Coo contradicted stolidly.
“Why does everybody keep calling him old? Only 48.”

“Did he tell you 48?” Lottie giggled. “Just 48, my foot!”

“Beans,” Ernie mumbled gleefully. “A thousand on a
plate! The way ’at dumb cluck of a cripple loved his baked
beans! Good ol’ Harry—he gets a square shake up in

25

—e?


24

Je ae

Someone sheared five years off Harry Wright, recorded it
with insurance company, then lopped off rest of his life

too able-bodied handyman might be off somewhere, drunk.
Harry Wright, she remarked, was a hard drinker once he
got started. Since he hadn’t even arrived at Johnson’s
place—well, it sounded like poor Harry had got started.

“But don’t be rough with the little guy when you collar
him,” Eva urged.

“Why should I be rough with him?” Cadwell retorted.

As the state trooper rolled away from the roadhouse he
turned onto the highway in the direction of Oneonta. He
drove slowly and spread the beam of his headlights so as
to cover both sides of the road. Suddenly he slammed on
his brakes, sprang out of the car,and crossed to the ditch

A stained mallet, a family Bible with a date altered, an
old felt hat and cap found on roadside were the evidence

beside the road. He stared into the long grass and sighed.

Here was Harry Wright. The state policeman had found
him only a few hundred yards from the inn where he
worked. But Harry wasn’t drunk and passed out cold.
Harry was dead.

Cadwell drove back to Mrs. Coo’s. He found her in the
kitchen, anxiously pacing the floor. And she had managed
to communicate her anxieties to the James girl and Palmer.

“Looks like you bring news, Bill!” the girl exclaimed.
She was trying to sound her usual gay and flippant self,
but her eyes were wide and worried.

Cadwell only nodded. He approached the more agitated

_ Eva Coo. “I found him,” he said. “Too late, though. Harry’s

dead. I’ve got to call Doc Winsor.”

Dr. Earl C. Winsor drove over immediately from Schen-
evus. The headlights of the state trooper’s car and of the
physician’s car combined to illuminate the rather grisly
scene along the highway.

The body of Mrs, Coo’s handyman, Harry Wright, lay
where Cadwell had discovered it, on its back in a shallow
ditch about 3 yards from the concrete highway. There
were bruises and smears of dried blood on the dead man’s
face,

“He must have been hit by a truck or a big car,” Cadwell
estimated. :

“Another hit-and-run case,” the doctor said bitterly.

Mrs. Coo knelt in the grass beside him, watching his deft
work intently. Her face was pallid in spite of her heavy
make-up and, in her effort to keep silent and not interrupt
Dr. Winsor’s examination, she bit her underlip grimly.
She seemed close to tears.

A small, silent knot of onlookers, including the farm-
hand, Palmer, and the entertainer, Lottie James, was
grouped behind her.

At length the doctor stood erect and squared his shoulders.
“Appears to have died from a crushed chest,” he said. “The
ribs are crushed and, I believe, both shoulders fractured.
There is air in the tissue—what we call a skin crepitus—
so he wasn’t killed instantly.” |

Bill Cadwell put in, “Looking for him, I nearly missed
him. The grass here is so high.”

“Quite a number of drivers that must have passed here
failed to see him,” Dr. Winsor pointed out. “For, in my
opinion, he has been dead nearly three hours.”

It was now after 11:30 p.m. If the physician’s prelim-
inary findings were’ correct, then the fatal accident had

occurred at «€
Winsor an
the surface
were looking
“Whoever
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Physicians a


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$

oy

“

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

/

Cooperstown, New York, boasts two distinctions:
It’s the site of the National Baseball Hall of Fame,
and of the sensational murder trial

of one of the most evil women of our time, Eva Coo

eel

by R. J. GERRARD

HERE WAS A HEAVYWEIGHT championship bout in progress.
Suddenly it ended. A coveted title had changed hands. There was
a new heavyweight champion of the world—a young Californian
with immensely broad shoulders, broad nose, broad and easy smile. ...
The telephone rang. Bill Cadwell twitched off his desk radio. Some-
body wanted to know about the fight? You called up the police for
just about anything here in Otsego County. He reached for the phone.

“State Police. Trooper Cadwell,” he said in the familiar monotone.

“Wello—”’ It was a woman’s voice. It was husky and sounded somehow
urgent. She wasn’t phoning to ask the outcome of a prizefight. “This is Mrs.
Coo. At Woodbine Inn. I’m calling to find out, has there been any accident on
the roads hereabouts?” ;

“Nothing reported to me,” the trooper said. “Not here at Schenevus. Why?”

“It’s my handyman—Harry Wright.”

“I know Harry. What about him?”

“Yarry’s missing. That is,” said the worried, husky voice, “he left here a bit
after 7 tonight, to go see about a painting job at Johnson’s. And he hasn’t
returned.”

“You yang up Johnson’s?”

“An hour:ago. Harry never showed there.”

“Okay,” said Cadwell, “I’ll be right over.”

The state trooper drove rapidly from his post in the small Upper New York
community of Schenevus to the roadhouse called Woodbine Inn. This establish-
ment was owned and operated by Mrs. Eva Coo. Some 20 miles from the county
seat, Cooperstown, it was on the Maryland-Oneonta highway and a short dis-
tance outside the Oneonta city limits.

"As Cadwell drove up, the inn blazed with light, but its regular business of
purveying entertainment and refreshments seemed at a standstill. The trooper
found but three people in the roadhouse. Besides the proprietress there was a
farmhand, Fred Palmer, and a young woman named Lottie James, who was
commonly identified as an “entertainer.”

Mrs. Eva Coo was a big, blue-eyed, bleached-blonde and frankly brazen type
of: individual.. She was considered to be a bad influence in this quarter of the
county. Both big Eva and her little inn enjoyed a shady reputation. Yet busi-

ness out here at Woodbine could be more than brisk on a Saturday night, and

Eva herself did not lack for the protection of a wide and knowing acquaintance
in this part of the Empire State.

Tonight, however, was Thursday—a soft and summery Thursday night of
June 14th. Except for Palmer, who said that he had dropped over for a bottle
of beer and to listen to the fight, the inn was curiously bereft of patrons.

Mrs. Coo repeated what she had already told Cadwell over the phone. All
she could add were a few quiet words which hinted that her slightly built, none

23


26

Haunted house to which victim was lured, the murder plot executed, as three unsuspecting witnesses arrived at the scene

Heaven, they’ll leave ’im come back, eat beans in Boston.”

“Just shut up!” Eva Coo thundered. “Haven’t you got
any respect?”

She and her greatly subdued entertainer put Ernie Tatum
to bed with their customary firmness and dispatch. Then
the two sat in the kitchen of the darkened roadhouse, sip-
ping black coffee and vaguely debating the quick, uncer-
tain twists and turns of life or fate.

During the afternoon an autopsy was performed upon the
body of Harry Wright. Dr. Winsor and two associates came
up with a rather baffling summary of their professional
findings. As a result, the doctor drove to Cooperstown with
Trooper Cadwell and there, at 5:30 p.m., conferred with
Sergeant John L. Cunningham of the state police and Owen
P. Brady, undersheriff of Otsego County.

Nearly all of Wright’s ribs, the post mortem showed, had
been fractured. Both of his shoulder blades had suffered
multiple fractures. A wound on his temple suggested that
he had been struck down by some heavy implement or
object which was not a part of the motor vehicle that had
crushed his thoracic cavity nearly to pulp.

“In my opinion,” said Dr. Winsor, “the car that killed
Wright passed over him not once, but twice.”

“I still can’t quite figure,” Cadwell began “why Harry

was hit head-on by a truck or car on that side of the road.:

Shouldn’t it have hit him from behind? Unless maybe the
force of the first blow spun him around, so that he fell back-
ward right in the car’s path?”

“Let’s go over it again, from the beginning,” Brady
suggested. :

Harry Wright, according to his employer, Mrs. Coo, had
left her place about 7 p.m. to go to Johnson’s, to discuss
a prospective job of painting. Harry’s arrangement with
the proprietress of Woodbine Inn permitted him to seek
odd jobs around the rural neighborhood whenever his serv-
ices as painter and handyman were in no rush demand at
the roadhouse. And Lottie James, with a nervous giggle,

had mentioned the queer coincidence that Harry had just
finished “his big paint job on the summer bungalows”
adjoining the inn this past Tuesday evening, only two days
before his fatal accident.

Last night Harry had never arrived at the Johnson place.

He had been found dead only a few hundred yards from
his point of departure. Dr. Winsor and the autopsy fixed
the time of death as approximately 8:30 p.m.
, Harry Wright had been alive for nearly an hour and a
half after leaving the inn. Yet he had not reached his des-
tination, a walk of no more than 20 minutes, even to a man
afflicted with a limp.as Harry was.

Harry had been found lying in the ditch on the eastbound
side of the highway, the side on which traffic moved toward
the. inn from Oneonta. A local man, familiar with every
rod of this area, a countryman all his life, Harry would
have been sure to walk against motor traffic. On his way to
Johnson’s, which lay between Woodbine Inn and Oneonta,
Harry would have automatically trudged along the east-
bound side of the highway, in order to face toward ap-
proaching eastbound traffic. He would not, however, have
taken almost 90 minutes to go less than a quarter of a mile.

“Could it be that he was struck by a westbound vehicle
and knocked clear across the highway to the ditch on the
eastbound side?” Brady speculated.

“Impact as heavy as that,” said the physician, “would
have surely produced leg or arm or pelvic fractures, pos-
sibly a series of them. Besides, Bill Cadwell and I combed
oyer the highway for dozens of yards in both directions.
There wasn’t a tire mark, a skid mark, or any spattering of
blood. Also, he did not die instantly.”

Had the victim, perhaps, been drinking and turned back
toward home, forgetting both his Johnson errand and the
ordinary precaution of taking to the safer side of the road?

“Wright wasn’t drunk. We found only insignificant traces
of alcohol,” Dr. Winsor said. “A shot of whiskey or, per-
haps, a bottle of beer with his dinner.”

Interior of


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I ain’t jealous of my reputation.”

N APRIL, 1932. a ragged man, under-

nourished and lame, appeared at Little
Eva’ s back door begging for a handout.

“Don’t I know you?” she queried.

“Mebbe,” he shrugged. “Name's Harry
Wright. They call me Limpy.”

“From round Portlandville?”

“Yeah.”

“Related to Liz Wright?”

“My-ma—she’s dead.”

“Liz was my friend,” said Little Eva.
“Tl rustle you up some grub.”

Limpy gobbled his food in animalistic
fashion. He was almost famished. Of
iow intelligence and handicapped by a
misshapen left foot, he had been unable
to find employment and had been living on
the bounty of the countryside.

“But I’m no pauper,” he hastened to add.
“T got $595 in a savings account. It was a
bequest. from my mother. I’m savin’ it
for a rainy day.”

Fva decided that by hook or crook she
would get the money. In sugary tones, she
suggested that he stay at the resort as a
handy raan.

Limpy accepted the pcsition—a job that
was virtual slavery. He was up with the
roosters to sweep and mop. And _ he
labored until 2 o’clock almost every morn-
ing, serving drinks to patrons.

Abed less than four hours daily, Limp;
often dropped off to sleep sitting in thc
tavern. But he got little rest this way;
Little Eva derived fiendish delight from
giving him the “hot foot”—heating with
matches the thin soles of the slumbering
cripple’s shoes.

As Limpy leaped up with a cry of pain
after such treatment on one occasion, a
customer remarked: “You're a sadist, Eva.”

“What's that?”

The patron, a physician, explained: “One

who experiences mental and physical satis-

faction from torture.”

“Maybe,” grinned Eva.
anyhow.”

Limpy was not the only object of Little
Eva's cruelty. Seemingly possessed by a
mania to cause others suffering, she un-
mercifully kicked and beat dogs owned by
neighbors. She found pleasure in attending
gory cock fights. Driving along the high-
ways, she sought to run down chickens,
making no effort to avoid them.

For a time Wright was the sole male
resident of Woodbine Inn. And then Ar-
nold Bunker called at the tavern late in
1933 to solicit an order for 2 heating plant.
E
liked him, and he became her star boarder.
Thirty-four years old and fairly person-
able, he did no work and drank much
liquor.

“A nice fellow,”
“He'll stay here.”

“i'm no sissy

Neighbors began to say ths*t Little Eva_

wasn’t as bad as painted, crediting her with
a kind heart and strong maternal instinct
because she had befriended Limpy Wright
and Bunker. But there was an ulterior
motive to her “charity.”

While Bunker was mellow with bourbon,
Little Eva secured a policy for $1000 on
his life, naming herself as beneficiary.

“The insurance agent’s an old customer
of my joint,” she lied to Bunker. “The
reason I’m doing this is to slip him a little
business.”

Next,
Wright.

“How old are you, Limpy?” she asked.

“Fifty-four.”

“Hmmm,” murmured Eva. “If you were
five or six years younger, the insurance
rates would be much cheaper.”

Wright, reasonably enough, pointed out:
“But | ain't.”

“Yeah,”

She turned her attentions to

agreed Eva. “vou ain’t—now

Eva told associates.
<F-women returned.

but you soon will be.”

With Limpy, she inspected the cemetery
plot of the Wright family, where the handy
man’s mother before her death had had
chiseled on a tombstone her name and those
of her children and the dates of their births.

“When any of us kick the bucket,” ex-
plained Limpy, “all that has to be done is
to carve the date.”

Bribing a stonecutter, Eva took him to
the graveyard at midnight and watched him
delicately chisel away the year of Wright’s
birth, 1880, and substitute 1885. She also
engaged an underworld handwriting imi-
tator to doctor the birth entry in the Wright
family Bible.

Then she secured four policies, totaling
$9800, on the handy man’s life, with herself
designated as beneficiary.

“Makes me feel important.”
Wright swelled his chest.
lot.”

He should have added “dead”

Slow-witted
“t’m worth a

but Eva,

planning murder, made no comments con- .

cerning the omission.

Little Eva now debated which of her in-
tended victims should die first. Two girls,
frequenters of the resort, with whom she
discussed the project, thought Bunker ought
to be the lead-off man.

“He’s brainy,” pointed out one of them,

“and if. you bump Limpy and collect insur-
ance, Bunker’s liable to guess -you aim to
give him the works, too.’

But the hellhag of Woodbine Inn, after
considerable mulling. decided to launch her
program by executing Limpy. Wright.

“Bunker won't figure he’s in danger,’
she explained. “He's too busy oer
whiskey, and anyhow he thinks I’m crazy
*bout him. I’m saving him until last so he
cai: lend a hand in ‘getting rid of Limpy.”

She broached the monstrous
Bunker at dinner.

“Count me out,’

bugging.

he said shakily, his ey
“T’m no killer.”

“We'll make almost ten grand on ‘the —

job,” Little Eva told him.
be sneezed at.”

“Not for ten million,” he insisted. “I
wouldn’t be able to sleep nights if I had a
hand in it.”

“Okay,” shrugged Eva.
and have a good time.
when you get back.”

Eva’s plans were almost perfected. Her
closest friend, Mrs. -Martha Clift. a 27-
year-old divorcee, had been induced to aid
her. In preparation for the slaying, Mrs.
Clift bought a second-hand automobile.
Little Eva provided the purchase price of
the murder machine. They invited Wright

“That ain't to

_ “Go into town
itll be all over

to go for a ride on nearby Crumhorn
Mountain.
“Sure,” said Limpy, pleased.

He sat in the rear of the heavy sedan as
it left the resort. Three hours later the
Limpy Wright was not
with them. ,

At 11 o'clock that evening—Thursday,
June 14, 1934—Little Eva telephoned the
state troopers’ post in the village of Shene-
vus.

“My handy man, Limpy Wright, left at
7 to see about a painting job at Jim John-
son's,” she reported. “He hasn’t come
back. I called Jim,’and he said Limpy
didn’t show up. I’m worried... .”

Trooper William Caldwell was. assigned
to the case. Touring roads in the vicinity
of the Woodbine Inn. he came across
Wright. Lying in a shallow ditch, crushed
and mangled, he was dead.

Informed of the tragedy, Little Eva began
to weep.

“Poor Limpy,” she sobbed. “I told him
to be careful of autos on dark roads.. He
was so careless.”
CONVINCED Wright was a hit-and-run

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SEARING BLAST of protanity
came from the bald-headed oldster
as hot cofiee deluged his promi-

nent paunch, seeped through his well-
tailored trousers and stung him so that
he scrambled to his feet.

“You confounded idiot! he raged.
“Are you trying to scald me?”

The waiter who had spilled the cotfee
was a partly-crippled, doltish-looking
man whose face was ordinarily vacant
of expression. But now it registered
fear.

“Tt was an «accident he wailed,
wringing his hands as he backed away.
“I'll bring you some more coffee, sir—
fresh coffee.”

“If you show your ugly puss in here
again, I'll brain you!” sputtered the
enraged customer. He pounded on the
table. “Eva!” he bawled. “Come here.”

The scene was the Woodbine Inn, an
off-color roadhouse sprawled beside the
Oneonta-Albany Highway near the vil-
lage of Maryland in the Susquehanna
Valley of New York. ;

Proprietor of the place was Mrs.
Evangeline Coo, better known as Little
Eva. Her provocative nickname con-
jures enchanting visions of a dainty bit
of femininity—but Little Eva Coo’s per-
sonality and appearance were on the
nightmarish side. Forty-one years old,
she was a fleshy, big-boned blond, loud-
mouthed and tough.

In response to the guest’s summons,
she waddled in and, murmuring sym-
pathy, listened to his tale of woe.

“He’s clumsy, that waiter, and dumb—
the dumbest oaf I’ve ever encountered,”
he declared. “How’s it you hired him,
Eva ?”

The mountainous blond smiled and re-
plied: “Pal, (Continued on page 61)

“SLAVING almost 20 hours a day,
poor Limpy Wright sometimes dozed
off on the job. When he did, Eva
took fiendish delight in giving him
the “hot foot,” as illustrated below
by professional models. It was a
significant index to the woman’s
charactex.

m

aS
if diay’
3 Z at

,/ a <5 - 7 ——
C a ttecc cet OO ee
: vA g DS: WF oc =. Log be tee.

sm

O fo Wo ee» 7
CHA 1 eee LEFT ar ae

O THE MURDER MACHINE which Eva pur-

chased solely to carry out her infamous

death plot, is shown at lower left. Below:

Little Eva herself—she richly deserves a

place among America’s Most Villainous
. Women.

; seme enaegetnmpagiem  tptummattane em coc tnece
. ee
! SS a ee MN ig
ne %y, ‘ pales. RE,

ith

er

RRL rte nnn me atenes, Cpa Arm ps te

rat Spee Ted dana

Kc Se lint alah
ees os

pene ho tee tanned

weneteng ni

Tate
mean?”

“I know cows,” Fairbairn smiled. “Every
day of their lives they came up to Yoch to
be petted. As the psychologists say, they
were conditioned to it. On the day of the
murder, Jussila went into the yard and the
cows, following their custom, ran up to
greet him. Jussila was rattled; he went
off his noggin for a moment and instead of
petting the animals, he threw rocks at
them.”

Sergeant Fairbairn lit a cigarette and
continued :

“The cows were not only hurt physically ;
they were startled and jarred out of their
normal way of life. They reacted in a
nervous manner, going into sort of a herd
St. Vitus dance, quivering and leaping about
as a result of their way of life being
knocked topsy-turvy. This is a common
thing among herd animals, in case of mass
shock.

“I realized, after thinking over Middle-
ton’s story, that something had happened
to excite and upset those cows before he
and Charlie Yoch approached the cabin.
Fantastic as it sounded, Middleton’s story
rang true as a Canadian dollar.”

Fairbairn’s explanation was corroborated
for this writer by Major Paul Reed, in
charge of Army meat inspection for the
Northwest, and who in civilian life was
one of the most prominent veterinarians in
the state of Washington. Said Major
Reed:

“Mass hysteria in herd animals is not
uncommon, In bison, for instance, it con-
sisted of vast herds running aimlessly across
the plains.

“Cattle in confined areas avoid that, since
they would be injured by running into
fences. Instead, their hysteria may be
evidenced by nervous jerkings and prancings
wuich in many instances resembles the
dancing of horses seen in circuses.”

- Jussila, who freely admitted his guilt,
now is spending life behind the bars in
British Columbia.

Sergeant Fairbairn last March cele-
brated his 30th year with the British Colum-
bia Provincial Police.
N.C.O. in charge of the Courtenay dis-
trict.

During those 30 years of exciting service,

looked puzzled. “What do you

“he'll tell you with a Scot twinkle in his

eye, he has never worked on a more bizarre
case than the Charles Yoch murder, which
Started with a troop of dancing cows and
ended with a snarling murderer trapped
like a tiger in his den.

At present he is -

Little Eva

(Continued from page 27 )

you just mentioned the reason: Limpy’s
the world’s dumbest screwball. He can’t
read or write. Why, the sap can’t even
think! But that’s good—especially for
fellows like you. Why? Well, if Limpy
had brains and used ‘em, he’d recognize
your mug from the pictures of you and
your wife on the society pages of the
papers. He’d put the arm on you for hush
dough—blackmail you to keep his lips
buttoned about you frequenting a joint like
this.”

The man’s anger evaporated. ‘You're

* right, Eva—a hundred percent right. In

this spot, the dumber they are, the better.”
_ The waiter limped in. Placing a cup of
coffee on a table, he shambled out without
a word.

“He gives me the creeps,” commented
the man. “Reminds me of a zombie.”

“Yeah,” nodded Little Eva, “his person-
ality ain’t what you'd call dynamic. And
even though he’s handy, I’m getting: rid of
him. Yeah, Limpy won’t be here long.”

In Little Eva’s voice was a deadly, sin-
ister note. But her face was placid and
gave no hint she was planning a foul,
monstrous crime which would assure her of
a prominent and enduring position in the
Gallery of Villainous Women.

A mystery to her neighbors in hilly Ot-
sego County, she had drifted into the section
six years before, in 1928, and opened the
Woodbine Inn. Young couples of the
countryside, visiting the establishment, were
surprised to find themselves about as wel-
come as smallpox.

“You ain’t wanted, punks,” Little Eva
told them point-blank. “Spend your dough
elsewhere.”

This puzzling attitude om the part of
Little Eva was entirely in keeping with her
preconceived plan. She wanted no truck
with local people who had little money to
spend and who might get her into trouble
with the county authorities. Her intention
was to attract free-spending playboys from

. big towns as far as 100 miles away.

In this she was eminently successful, and
she did a thriving business in illicit liquor.
It was only natural, however, that ugly
rumors soon began to circulate around
neighboring towns as to the character of
her resort. Little Eva cared not a whit.

“Let ’em talk,” she grunted. “As long
as I steer clear of the law, what’s the harm?

‘ iat ata nae tN no ne ey OE ROR OS INS
Sn as: 0 in een a laa F

peter gs tg ett ALCO GEL NL REE IN:

He did it just like that.

This is Al."

He did more than that.
of his pen.

i alae ntcpesnn

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Yes, sir, that Lindsay man practically ran the world. ...

The question was, was all this really true about him? Or was it all a mighty
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New York found out—too late. .And what it learned about this most fan-
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ents. His father died in 1924 and his
mother passed away in 1931. On the
day of her funeral, Harry moved in
with Eva.

Harry had been a painter by trade
and now was badly crippled, walk-
ing in what is described as a shuffle.
In addition to being physically weak,
he was addicted to the excess use of
liquor."

Coo dominated Wright to the point
that he would do anything she asked.
He did odd jobs around the house but
when Eva went away, she locked
him out so that he could not get to the
liquor. At night he slept on a daven-
port in the kitchen.

When Wright went to live with
Coo, he had $1500 in a savings ac-
count in Cooperstown and $320 in a
bank in Milford, both inherited from
his parents. He also owned their
house and lot in Portlandville. In the
summer of 1932 the house burned and
he, accompanied by Eva, collected
the $350 insurance and sold the lot for
$100.

The duo made many visits to the
banks, always making withdrawals,
never deposits. Testimony showed
that “by 1932, Wright was penni-
less.” In April of 1934, his benefactor
helped him get public assistance in the
form of monthly vouchers for $10
worth of groceries which went to the

Their testimony caused a stir .
during trial: Harry Nabinger
and Mrs. Gladys Shumway.

Eva Coo, the murderess, when
she was first arrested.

Coo residence.

Next there are the District Attor-
ney’s “Four Aces,” all close friends of
Eva. Like her, all of them enjoyed the
prosperity party of the 1920’s and
were now suffering from the depres-
sion hangover of the 1930’s. All of
them ‘were adrift but none of them
had ever been accused of a serious
crime.

Mrs. Martha Clift, age 28, had
been separated from her husband for
several years. They had been married
in Gilbertsville and last kept house in
Honesdale, Pa. She had been with
him “as man and wife” off and on
since that time. Even though she was
unemployed, her aged mother pro-
vided most if not all of the care for her
two children, Frances, six, and
John, three.

Martha was described as “school
teacherish,” standing as erect as any
soldier and she wore heavy rimmed
glasses. Aside from being hailed into
court in Susquehanna, Pa., for paying
for a car with a forged check, she had
no police record.

She had been introduced to Ev

ae

ae Dies”

through her brother who was “paying
attention” to Eva at the time. For the
past year they had been good friends
and she lived with Coo for three
months in 1932 and four months in
1933. During the trial, she was calm,
collected, and could not be swayed
from her story.

Mrs. Gladys Shumway, 34 years
of age, called on Eva several times a
week while she lived in Oneonta; at
other times she boarded with Eva
whom she had known for two years.
She had been married but was sepa-
rated and didn’t know where her hus-
band lived. She, too, was unem-
ployed. Aside from being convicted
of disorderly conduct on March 14,
1934, she had no police record. Mrs.
Edna Hanover was a good friend of
Martha Clift and had lived with Eva
Coo from June through September.
Young and beautiful, it was hard to
believe that she had been twice mar-
ried; twice divorced.

Harry Nabinger, a dapper 39-year-
old salesman had graduated from
Binghamton High School. He married
and fathered four children, all of
whom he deserted in Detroit four
years before he moved into Eva’s bed-
(continued on page 42)

nr ge oy .


‘stern State
tred to by
More than
lly cured at
society to
1€ most re-
ul Brown,
:wo dozen
period be-

that Jones
rsonalities.
alled amo-
‘ the chance
‘estion that
sonality. It
ff the drug
’s, he was
trist deter-
personali-

nfused the
$ personal-
t himself.
hiatrists -to
he psychi-
ether Wil-
imate case
~ + who

2d for
mv0OU who
e€ prosecu-
ury to de-

iam Roger
wicted of
druary 19,
jor Court
{ Jones to
nonths) in

*

Girl

(4) to run
_ body near
a hit-and-

le indem-
in on June

as search-
Tiends for
ts. She al-
en the in-
4, Eva al-
th double
death and
meficiary.
ions; Coo

age)

ia ct tee

paid the premiums. At the trial, 16
policies totaling $12,900 were en-
tered in evidence.

Coo was becoming quite an ex-
pert on insurance. She learned that it

- would be better to have policies made

out to Harry’s estate so she and Na-
binger took Wright to a Schenevus at-
torney where he signed a will that
made Eva his beneficiary. So it was
that the latter policies showed his es-
tate as benefitting.

Furthermore, she found out that on
some policies, double indemnity
would not be paid on a person of Har-
ry’s age. No problem. She had Mar-
tha Clift write in the birth and death
dates of some of Wright’s ancestors
and Harry Nabinger to add “Harry
Wright, Oct. 29, 1885” in the Wright
family bible. Town records did not
show dates of birth as far back as
1880 so the record in the bible could
not be checked there.

Because the family tombstone al-
ready showed Wright’s birth as 1880,
on May 29th, Coo, accompanied by

Nabinger and Wright, hired a marble .

cutter to change it to 1885. She also
instructed him to add her name and
birthdate on the same stone. Harry
Wright had taken out one policy be-
fore he lived with Eva. Using the
family bible and tombstone to collab-

‘ orate her story, she convinced the

agent who handled the policy that the
1880 date was incorrect on the policy
and Harry willingly signed a
statement that it should be changed to
1885.

Eva’s home was on the main high-
way between Binghamton and Alba-
ny. Here in the foothills of the Cats-
kills, paved roads ran up fertile river
valleys, overlooked by mountain
ranges on each side. A maze of nar-
row dirt roads, like spider webs, dis-
ected the hills that separated each val-
ley. Optimistic early settlers had
cleared these higher elevations but the
soil was shallow and the slopes too
steep for the use of the machinery that
was becoming available in the
1930’s. The Depression was the final
death knell and only a few farmers
stubbornly held to the land. Most of
the land was growing up to brush and
most of the buildings falling into de-
cay.
Crumhorn Mountain loomed up di-
rectly behind Eva’s home and at the
top on a narrow dirt road stood the
abandoned Scott farm with its fallen
barn and bat infested house. It was

out of sight of the nearest neighbor
and the road seldom used. Where
could one find a more private place to
commit a murder?

Like any good business person, Eva’

left nothing to chance so on Decora-
tion Day, May 30, 1934, she decided
to give her plan a rehearsal. On the
pretext of showing them where a
friend once lived, she persuaded Har-
ry Nabinger to take her, Gladys

Shumway and Martha Clift up to the

Scott farm. Little did she suspect that
this one decision would allow cruel
fate to turn that winding road up
Crumhorn Mountain into a boulevard
leading straight to Sing Sing’s Death
Row.

Leaving Harry’s old Dodge in the
driveway, they walked into the old
house where Eva had a mallet and
said to Gladys, “Wouldn’t that be
something to hit somebody on the
head with?” The mallet was left on
the table. As they left the house, they
saw an old man walk by.

In planning the final chapter, Eva
didn’t want to implicate her lover by
using his car. In fact, she didn’t want
to use any car that might be recog-
nized in the community so she made
arrangements with a garage in Frank-
lin, some 20 miles away, for Martha
to try out a 4000-poound Willys
Knight sedan on the pretext that she
was interested in buying it. Martha,
her co-conspirator, was told that
when the insurance money came in,
she would be given the $200 asking
price so that she could buy the car.
Martha, believing that the total insur-
ance was not more than a thousand
dollars and from that funeral ex-
penses would have to be deducted,
said that was fair and agreed.

Eva gave Martha 50 cent bus fare
so that she could travel to Franklin on
the morning of June 14 and Martha
drove the car home. She gave Gladys
Shumway a ride before going to: the
Coo residence at 1:30 p.m.; then she
and Eva picked up some groceries in

“Worcester. Martha also picked up a

gentleman friend and the two enjoyed
a few beers at a local tavern. Coo and
Clift had another drink or two before
returning for Harry Wright.

Harry was asked to accompany
them to Crumhorn Mountain where
Eva told him they would dig up some
nice little cherry trees to plant on her
property. Martha drove while Eva
ducked down whenever they passed
a building or person and she instruct-

ed Harry to do the same. Upon reach-
ing their destination, the trio sat in the
car until dusk.

The Scott farm was owned by
Mrs. Iva Fink, daughter of Nellie
Scott. Both lived in Milford. Iva had
lived with her parents on the place
until 1912 when she married. Her
parents left it four years ago and no
one had lived there since. Her hus-
band, Ben Fink, was a former car-
penter. They had a daughter, Clara,
wife of Ben Hunt, a mechanic. The
Hunts had six children.

_ By coincidence, on the afternoon of

June 14, Ben and Clara Hunt, accom-
panied by the Hunt children and Iva
Fink, drove up Crumhorn Mountain
from the opposite valley for a relax-
ing after-dinner ride. They met Harry
Zindle who was walking along the
road. Mr. and Mrs. Zindle and their
five children’ lived on another road, a
quarter mile across lots from the Scott
place and Mrs. Fink had asked them
to watch over it.

Mr. Zindle told his friends that
someone had broken into the Scott
house on Decoration Day so Mrs.
Fink asked Mr. Hunt to turn off on the
road that led to her property so that
she could see what was missing.

It was now getting dark so over the
rise, Martha drove into the driveway
beside the Scott farmhouse. The plan
had been for Martha to drive back into
a field and turn around, then get out
with Harry and as she signaled by
lighting his cigarette, Eva, now be-
hind the wheel “would do the job.”

However, as they turned into the
drive, Eva changed the scenario by
jumping out and walking into the
house, returning with the mallet hid-
den beneath her coat. Leaving a be-
wildered Martha at the wheel, she
called to Harry who joined her and as
they walked side by side down the
drive, she struck him on the head ~
with the mallet and pushed him into
the car’s path. Martha, with the car in
low gear, ran over him, drove into
the field, turned around and drove
over his body again, this time strad-
dling it.

At this very moment, the Hunt car
broke over the top of the hill and each
party saw the other’s lights. Hunt
quickly drove down to block the
driveway and Mrs. Fink, soon joined
by Mrs, Hunt, rushed up to the death
car. Authorities estimated that had the
Hunt car arrived just one minute ear-

(continued on next page)
43


12,000 Volts For The Good-Time Girl

(continued from page 43)

lier, the occupants either would have
prevented the murder or have actually
seen it happen! ;

There were sharp words between
the two parties because Mrs. Fink
thought that Mrs. Coo, who she
knew, was there to steal. At one
point Eva said that she had enough
without stealing from anyone to
which Mrs. Fink replied, “I should
think that you would have enough of
everything considering the business
that you are in.”

Mrs. Coo gave the ladies a flash-
light and asked them to look inside the
car which they did. They saw a quilt,
two bags and a man’s hat. As more
bitter words ensued, Coo and Clift
brazenly demanded that Hunt and
Fink call the troopers.

Ben Hunt took down the license
number from the Willys Knight. He
backed up to let the other car out but
Coo refused to leave. Hunt was impa-
tient as it was getting close to the
time the Baer-Schmelling fight was
to be broadcast, so he finally left. At
this point, Eva placed the body on the
quilt in the car and they took an
obscure route home, dumping the
body in the ditch on the highway a
quarter mile from the Coo roadhouse.

After dropping off Coo, Clift drove
home. Upon arriving at her apart-
ment, she confided to Gladys Shum-
way that “Eva Coo has killed Harry
Wright” and she asked Gladys to say
that she had been with her all day.
The two returned the car to Franklin.

Clara Meyers, age 65, had a farm
home 500 feet from the Coo resi-
dence. Fred Palmer was her hired
man. Coo bought milk from the Mey-
ers and often borrowed her Model-T
Ford. Clara often used the Coo tele-
phone. Palmer had returned a cake tin
during the afternoon and found no one
home. Later,. when Eva returned,
Clara used her phone and Fred stayed
there all evening.

Eva told her visitors that Harry
Wright had left at 8 p.m. to visit a Mr.
Johnson in reference to a paint job.
By 10:30 she showed concern and
asked Edna Hanover and Fred Palmer
to drive down the road to look for
him. After their return, Eva called
Trooper Cadwell, telling him the
same story. Cadwell quickly located
Wright and told Eva, “He’s stone
dead.”

44

Now Wright had been located but
not Nabinger. On the morning of the
14th, he had borrowed Meyer’s car to
go to Andes on business. Enroute, he
began bar hopping. Near midnight, he
phoned. By that time, the coroner had
ruled that Wright died the victim of a
hit-and-run accident. The body had
been released to an undertaker and
transferred to his funeral parlor in
Schenevus.

Eva gave Harry Nabinger the news
and from the conversation could tell
that he was too drunk to drive home
so she, Edna Hanover and Fred Palm-
er drove to Oneonta in Edna’s Ford,
to bring him home. Between Harry’s
condition and the balky Meyers car,
that took until 3:45 the next morn-
ing. June 14 was a busy day for Eva!

On the 15th, Coo told Palmer and
Meyers that there might be some
questions asked about her wherea-
bouts the previous day and if so, to
say that she had been home all the
time. Then she borrowed the Meyers
car to’ make funeral arrangements,
showing the undertaker a $460 insur-

ance policy from which she agreed he

would be paid.

Up until now, bad luck had ne-
gated her carefully laid plans. How-
ever, now she became her own
worst enemy by filing insurance
claims, even before the burial. One of
the carriers asked for an autopsy and
that revealed that the body had been
run over so that it could not have been
struck and thrown into the ditch by a
passing truck.

Coo, Clift, Nabinger, Hanover and
Shumway were questioned and on
June 18, Coo and Clift were arrested
and the others were held in jail as
material witnesses.

“Coo was questioned in Coopers-
town, Clift in Oneonta. After 36
hours with little or no sleep, Clift
confessed. Upon hearing the news,
Coo said, “She’s squawked, I'll tell
the truth” and she immediately made
her statement.

The confessions were nearly iden-
tical except that Clift claimed that
Coo drove the death car; Coo that
Clift was the driver. Coo also made
no reference to the mallet. Not until
June 21, a day after the confession,
was Coo arraigned and _ Everett
Holmes assigned as counsel and he
was not informed of the reenactment

a

that was to occur on that day. Neither
did Coo have a lawyer at that time.

On June 19, while Coo and Na-
binger were being interrogated in jail,
state police went to the Coo home on
orders of the District Attorney. They
had no search warrant but removed a
screen and raised the sash to gain en-
trance. They found the insurance poli-
cies in a bureau drawer. Their work
was interrupted when an officer ar-
rived to say that Eva was being
brought there to feed her parrot. They
hid until she had left at which time
they again found the policies but this
time they were hidden under a pile of
clothes. They seized them for evi-
dence.

During the trial, Coo’s attorney argued
that this illegal evidence should not be
considered but Judge Heath in his
summation declared that “...ille-
gally obtained evidence—for instance
insurance policies...obtained without
a search warrant may be legal evi-
dence and properly received in a trial
if it be otherwise competent.” Thus
the policies became evidence.

On June 21, at approximtely the
hour of Wright’s death, Coo and Clift
without benefit of an attorney, were
taken to the murder scene. The Dis-
trict Attorney, a coroner, another phy-
sician plus the sheriff and other law
officials were among those present.

As though the script was from a
novel, the night was dark and dreary.
Claps of thunder roared and bolts of
lightning pierced the sky as a storm
approached. In the driveway was the
death car and near it, Harry Wright’s
coffin. It had been turned over and his
body lay on the upturned bottom pan-
el.

The district attorney said to Eva,
“Pick him up” and then he asked her
to put the body in the car. The de-
ceased was moved from place to

‘place in the driveway and the clear-

ance of the car noted. Only car lights
and bolts of lightning illuminated the
grizzly scene. Coo and Clift with-
stood this ordeal for four hours with-
out showing any emotion.

Of the original confessions, the
D.A. had believed Clift, not Coo and
charged Coo with first-degree murder
and in a plea bargaining maneuver,
signed an agreement with Coo to give
her immunity in return for her co-op-
eration. After the re-enactment, he
had some doubts and finally on June
23, obtained a revised confession

(continued on next page)


Strange Case Of The Heroic Strangler

(continued from page 41)

twice walked out of the state bar ex-
am) drafted his own motions and
filed them in the court docket. The
motions were sophisticated, although
hand printed, and revealed that Jones
had a solid grasp of the law and pro-
ceedings. '

The defense couldn’t very well ar-
gue that he was incapable of assisting
in his own defense or didn’t under-
stand the nature of the proceedings.
His only out was to claim insanity.
And it appeared there might be some

substance to his contention that he had
multiple personalities.

Out-of-body experiences, demon-
ic possession, handwriting changes,
stuttering, rage, irrationality, de- -
tachment—all were things he’d ex-
perienced.

When psychiatrists probed — his
mind, different personalities
emerged. The most frightening was
the one named Animal, the one who
actually committed the murder,
according to Jones.

Three Cheers For The Killer

(continued from page 29)

up to the ruined chateau, proving in
doing so her story.

The imprint of the schlitt was still
clearly visible in the muddy banks on
both sides of the river she crossed en
route, and across a grassy meadow
slope.

Returning later to the cottage, she
had wiped the gun clean of finger-
prints, taken it back to the dead man’s

home and replaced it under the mat- -

tress.

Widow Mavraux went on_ trial
later after great difficulty in finding a
reasonably impartial jury and was
found guilty of killing Levray, but un-
der extenuating circumstances.

She was sent off by a sympathetic
judge to serve a short sentence in a
prison hospital in the delightful coun-
tryside of Champagne, working in
the kitchens while awaiting weekly
visits from a weeping Rachel.

It was not until some time later that
gendarme Cernay, due for honorable
retirement, found out who made
those two anonymous phone calls to
him.

It had been the widow Mavraux
herself, and in a letter to him, accom-
panied by a gift bottle of her home-
made schnapps, she explained why.

Initially she had hidden the body

We want to wipe out
cancer in your lifetime.

Givetothe —s
American Cancer Society.

42

down the well hoping it would never
be found and the mystery of Levray’s
disappearance remain unmourned and
unsolved.

But then, she wrote, knowing

Levray’s unsavoury reputation the po-
lice would inevitably believe it was
murder and other people on the moun-
tain should not be suspected of the
crime.
After all, in getting rid of the evil
man personally and permanently, had
she not been performing a public serv-
ice for the whole community?

Opening the schnapps and pouring
himself a brimming glass, Cernay
nodded sagely as he put the letter
away.

It was strictly against the law he
was sworn to uphold, but for once he
reluctantly had to agree... *

Jones was sent to Western State
Hospital, sometimes referred to by
criminals as “easy time.” More than
one sex offender supposedly cured at
Western has returned to society to
commit heinous crimes, the most re-
cent being Tacoma’s Paul Brown,
who raped more than two dozen
women over a three-year period be-
fore finally being caught.

It was at Western that Jones
claimed he had multiple personalities.
Jones. was given a drug called amo-
barbital, which lessened the chance
he would pick up the suggestion that
he had more than one personality. It
was under the influence of the drug
that during three interviews, he was
examined and one psychiatrist deter-
mined there were multiple personali-
ties within him.

But sometimes Jones confused the
characteristics of his various personal-
ities, and he would correct himself.
This led some of the psychiatrists to
believe he was faking it. The psychi-
atrists disagreed as to whether Wil-
liam R. Jones was a legitimate case
of multiple personalities. Those who
believed Jones was legit, testified for
the defense ‘at the trial. Those who
didn’t buy it, testified for the prosecu-
tion. It was left up to the jury to de-
cide.

On January 3, 1986, William Roger
Jones, then 39, was convicted of
first-degree murder. On February 19,

1986 King County Superior Court
Judge Liem Tuai sentenced Jones to
280 months (23 years, four months) in
prison. *

12,000 Volts For The Good-Time Girl

(continued from page 25)

room. While his occupation was list-
ed as an ear phone salesman, he spent
most of his time in the bars where he
did more buying than selling.

They were shopping for groceries
when Eva first suggested “bumping
off’ Harry Wright. In subsequent
meetings, . whenever they were /
alone, the subject always seemed to
recur. Four plans were considered:

(1) To take Harry in a car to the top
of a hill, get out and let the car roll
down into the river; (2) leave Harry
in the car within a closed garage with
the motor running while Eva went to
the State Police Barracks to provide
an alibi; (3) rent a house for Martha
and arrange for Wright to fall to his

death while painting it; and (4) to run
over Harry and deposit his body near
a busy highway to simulate a hit-and-
run accident.

To be sure of getting double indem-
nity, they chose the latter plan on June
6th.

In the meantime, Eva was search-
ing periodicals and asking friends for
the names of insurance agents. She al-
ways had Harry Nabinger pen the in-
quiries. When agents called, Eva al-
ways selected policies with double
indemnity for accidental death and
had her name listed as beneficiary.
Wright signed the applications; Coo

(continued on next page)

paid the f
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the door, retreated facing the offi-

cer, then turned around and raced

toward: the kitchen. With unfalter-
. ing courage the police officer, al-
though fatally wounded, staggered
after him.

«The leader had flattened himself
against the bar. While he was in
plain sight, Patrolman Sherry, in
his wounded condition, did not see
him. Slowly the leader drew a bead
on the patrolman’s heart.

We all saw it and watched in hor-
ror. I felt Harry’s hand squeeze my
arm.

“Watch out!” he yelled, making a
dive for the leader.

I tried to stop him. I threw my
arms around him. “Please, Harry,
don’t .. . It’s suicide!”

But it was in vain. Both men
toppled to the ground. As they
grappled in desperate embrace, the
leader swung his gun around, pulled
on the trigger. I saw an orange spurt
of flame bridge the gap between the
gun muzzle and Harry’s back. I saw
my sweetheart’s body go limp as
he rolled over. The killer ran out.

DETECTIVES GEORGE GUNG and EUGENE
BOYLE, standing, helped corner Fred
Corbellini, the gang leader, in his hideout.

PROSECUTOR MULES
O’BRIEN: Under his clever
questioning, Alfred Cozzi
was trapped into a partial
confession, but he wouldn't
reveal the name of his leader.

PATROLMAN BERNARD
| SHERRY: Although badly
| wounded, he trapped a
deadly rat.

i time to rifle the

nsely for a mo-
1-lipped leader

up with those
i, waving the re-

istantly. His right
ip pocket, but be-
on the butt of his
two guns cracked.
and a burst of
he slugs ripped
r’s abdomen, hit
ted back into his
cop staggered

| off balance and

rror.

rising unsteadily
s service revolver
.and

vyho was covering

My insides melted and I fell down
in a dead faint.

I learned afterward what hap-
pened after that. The cop didn’t see
what was taking place on the side
of the restaurant. He had his eyes on
the thug who had headed for the
kitchen and on the latter’s com-
panion who had been collecting the
loot. The latter saw the cop coming
and he dived under a table.

The cop’s gun barked. A splotch
of red appeared on the man’s neck.
Sherry fired again and the bullet
found its mark in the man’s
shoulder.

The gunman who had run into
the kitchen, ran to the window. With
the butt of his gun he smashed a
pane of glass. It was then that he
discovered that the windows were
blocked by an iron grating. He
was trapped. He jumped away
from the window and edged along
the side of the room as Sherry came
through the swinging door.

“Get out of the way,’ he
screamed. “I’ll shoot!” The trapped
robber squeezed the trigger. A bul-
let crashed through the panel of the
door. He leapt forward just as the
officer fired. He stopped short, stag-
gered a moment and dropped dead
to the floor with a bullet through
the heart. ;

Patrolman Sherry backed out,
swayed drunkenly through the res-
taurant and pushed out into the
street. The leader had joined the
girls and had already disappeared
in the taxi.

Sherry sat down on the curbstone,
his arms clutched across the ever-
widening circle of red on his coat.

There was pandemonium in the
place when I came to. One man lay
dead in the kitchen, a second man
crawled painfully across the floor,
begging for someone to send for an
ambulance. Harry was unconscious,
the bullet having lodged near his
spine. There was an ugly pool of
blood on the floor where he lay
and two of the patrons, who had
propped his head up on their laps,
were smeared with his blood.

Outside, Patrolman Sherry still
sat on the curb, waiting for help.

It was John LaRocco, the pro-
prietor of the place, who telephoned
the police. :

Lieutenant Walter Sullivan, De-
tectives Hogan, Mullarney, and
Murray of the 15th Squad and a
host of other plainclothes and uni-
formed police officers responded.
Sherry saw them come, tried

vainly to get to his feet, tried to
shout: “Holdup!” It came out a
whisper. He toppled sidewise and
lay unconscious on the pavement.

Detective Hogan flagged a taxi-
cab and rushed the patrolman to the
Emergency Ward at Bellevue Hos-
pital.

Lieutenant Sullivan questioned
the dark-haired man who had en-
tered first with the girl, and who
now lay wounded in the rear of the
restaurant.

“How did you get mixed up in
this?” he asked.

“T ain’t mixed up in anything,”
the wounded man gasped. ‘For
heaven’s sake get me an ambu-
lance.”

Lieutenant Sullivan examined the
wounds quickly. “You'll live.” He
spoke curtly. “Now, what’s your
name?”

“Alfred Cozzi.”

“How did you happen to be shot?”

‘When the holdup started, one of
the men with a gun forced me to
the back table. He said he’d kill me
if I didn’t help with the stickup.

Then a cc
a shot at n
pity. ‘“‘He
have a gu!
Cozzi w
vue Hospit
I was sit
side Harri
scious. |
Words tur
don’t know
heart was
Harry shot
They lift
and carrie
I tried to g¢
formed po!
the arm an
“We—w*
ried,” I cri
He had
face. He |
pathy and
seat next 1
I wande:
a daze. The
but I wou!
until morni
tors came t
would live
He did ]|i'
him a hops
bullet hit

—

a gun. Also, what had started as a
holdup was now a murder case.
Patrolman Sherry, who was as brave
as they come, died in the hospital in
the early morning hours while receiv-
ing a blood transfusion.

Under Prosecutor O’Brien’s patient
questioning, the witnesses soon told
their stories. A stenographer took
down the words.

The proprietor was questioned first.
After taking down his name and ad-
dress, age and other bits of personal
information, Mr. O’Brien said: “Tell
me in your own words exactly what
you saw happen.”

“TI was near the cash register when

a fellow and his girl walked in and
took a table in one of the booths,”
he said. “He ordered some sand-
wiches. The waiter went out to fill
the order. Then I walked to the
kitchen. Just then two more fellows
came into the place and sat down
with this couple. The girl got up and
walked out. I went on toward the
kitchen when one of the fellows came
toward me. ‘I thought he was going
to walk right into the kitchen so I
said, ‘I’m sorry, mister, the gents’
room is that way.’
_ “He gave a sort of a laugh and
jammed a gun into my stomach. ‘Get
over against the wall and keep your
mouth shut!’ he warned. I did what
he asked me.”

Prosecutor O’Brien interrupted.
“Which man was that?”

“That’s the one who is dead now.”

“And what were the other two fel-
lows doing?”

“Well, the fellow, who seemed to be
the leader, also pulled out a gun and
ordered the people out of the booths.
He lined them up next to me. Then
he said to the fellow who had come
in with the girl: ‘Roll ’em.’ So this
fellow gets up and starts going
through our pockets. We all put our
things on a table and he started stuff-
ing them into a bag. One of the men
started arguing about his watch. He
said it wasn’t very valuable, but that
he was keeping it for sentimental
reasons. The fellow only looked at
him and said: ‘Put up and shut up!’”

A male stenographer came into the
room and handed Mr. O’Brien a single
sheet of onion skin paper. This is
what it said: “Statements of Alfred
Cozzi and Patrolman Sherry taken in
the Bellevue Emergency Ward, May
2nd, 1931:

“Alfred Cozzi, 558 East 191st Street,
The Bronx, New York, single. Lives
with mother, name Emily. Father
dead. Occupation, bricklayer.

(By the District Attorney): “Were
you in the restaurant on Third
Avenue during the shooting?”

(By the prisoner): ‘Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever been there before?”
“No, sir.”

“Whom did you enter the restaurant
with?” :

“A girl friend of mine. I don’t know
where she lives because I only met
her once before.”

“Have you ever been arrested?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For what?”

“Rape and assault. It was up at the
Ryer Street Precinct.”

44

. lights

AMAZING DETECTIVE CASES

| SENT TWO MEN TO THE CHAIR

(Continued from page 9)

The District Attorney then moved
over to the next cot in the ward
where Patrolman Sherry lay. :

“Look at that fellow” (indicating
Cozzi).

(By Patrolman Sherry): “That’s
the fellow who shot me.”

(By Cozzi to Patrolman Sherry):
“What's that? I had no gun, Officer.
I am the one you shot in the back.”

(By Patrolman Sherry): “He is the
one who wore the tan topcoat. He had
a nickel-plated gun.”

Statement finished 2:40 A.M.

PATROLMAN SHERRY was wron
when he claimed that Cozzi ha
shot him. He had been shot by the
man who was now dead and by the
ring-leader who got away. As a mat-
ter of fact the witnesses were agreed
that Cozzi did not have a gun. It was
because of this that some of the police
began having doubts as to his guilt or
innocence. Especially since he said he
was forced under threat of death to
do what he did.

I knew he was. lying. I knew he
was as guilty as sin. But I wouldn’t
lie to convict him. It didn’t seem
reasonable for the stickup men to seat
themselves at his table and order his
girl friend out knowing that the most
logical thing in the world for her to
do would be to tell a police officer.

Also, when this girl left the place

she got into a taxicab which was used .

by the killer to make his get-away.

Another thing was that he went at
the business of robbing us all in too
earnest a manner. But this was most
important: I saw the leader join the
dark-haired girl qn the sidewalk just
as he made his get-away. It was the
last thing I saw before I fainted.

This last thing was of grave impor-
tance. It showed a definite connection
between Cozzi and the killers.

While we were in the District At-
torney’s office, the taxi driver came in.
He said that around midnight he got
a call on the corner of 39th Street and
Third Avenue by two men and a girl.
He drove them to The Cave Restau-
rant. The two men jumped out and
told him to wait. A minute later a
girl came walking out of The Cave
Restaurant. She seemed to know the
girl who was waiting in the cab and
both started talking in low tones» In
a few minutes one of the men came
running out of the restaurant, and
leaped into the cab.

“Get going!” he snapped.

“The man had a gun up against my
neck. There was nothing I could do
but obey his orders,” he said. “He
didn’t tell me where to go so I drove
east on 40th Street. I took this route
because I usually see a policeman
along it. I crossed Second Avenue and
drove down to First. There was a red
traffic light against me and I saw a
cop on the corner. Even though he
had his gun on me I took a chance and
made a left turn against the light, but
the officer didn’t see me. .

“After I made the left turn I kept
going up First Avenue and when the
anged against me I still kept
going in the hope that some cop would
stop us. None did. '

“T let them off at the subway sta-

tion at Lexington and 59th Street.”

Mr. O’Brien asked: “From the way
the girls acted would you say that he
knew them well?”

“Sure, they were good friends. I
know I was scared as anything when
I saw him with the gun, but they
acted like they expected it all along.”

At Bellevue Hospital later in the
day, the prosecutor took another
crack at questioning Cozzi.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth
about the affair?” he asked.

“Another cop,” the prisoner groaned.
“Why don’t you leave me alone?”

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
Mr. O’Brien countered.

“I am telling the truth,” he whined.
“T only did the searching because one
of the guys had a gun on me.”

Mr. O’Brien changed his line of
questioning. “Did you go there with a
woman?”

“I told you that before,” Cozzi mut-
tered.

“And when the two gunmen came
in they sat down at your table?”

“Sure, that’s when they made me
do what they asked. They made Mary
scram out of the place.”

“Do you know that Mary drove
away with the killer?”

Cozzi’s face turned
“You're lying.”

“It’s the truth,” Mr. O’Brien said
quietly. “It’s no use your denying it.
We've got a witness to prove it. And
we have the cab driver to affirm it.
Now, why don’t you tell me the name
of the leader and the names of the
two molls who fronted for you.”

The prisoner put his hand to his face
in anguish. “Leave me alone,’ he
cried. “What more do you want? You
have two of our five. Gugliemetti is
dead and I am going to die in the
chair. You have two lives for one—
why do you want the other man?”

“Won’t you tell me who he is?” the
prosecutor said inexorably.

Cozzi’s jaw tightened. “I won’t tell
you who the third man is. If you find
out for yourself all right, but Pll
never talk. I’m no squealer. I will
say this: That cop had a lot of guts.
I have nothing against the police.”

That was the closest Cozzi came to
a confession. No matter how many
times he was questioned after that he
kept refusing to divulge the identities
of the leader and the two gun molls.

In the days that followed, I learned
how really efficient the New York
City police are. They had almost noth-
ing to work on yet they did wonders

ash grey.

with it. Cozzi and Gugliemetti were -

members of a Harlem mob that came
from every part of the district. The
mob was a fluid organization, its per-
sonnel shifting from crime to crime.

The police dug into the habits of
Cozzi and the dead man and learned
that both were fast steppers. The men
they hung around with were the
dark, sleek, over-dressed type called
sharpies. Most of the men in that
crowd were “dancing fools”. At least
that’s what some of the girls, who
hung around with them, said.

But, although a wealth of personal
information was uncovered, there
wasn’t a single clue as to the identity
of the slim, vicious-faced killer. De-

waa Sno eae ne eS

—

tectives who |
haunts of the m(
disadvantage sin
word picture of |
As each day pa
anguish turned |
the man who hac
felt that I coulc
pare hands. He
misery and hear’
he walked the st
I wanted desp*
time I left Harr
bite my lips to
my helplessness
Finally I c
longer. I felt ce)
thing. After al
cruel features
memory. If I sa’
ter how fleeting
know him.

WENT to t!
office and to!
my plan. He ni
was finished.
“How do you «
“The police tc
love to dance—
dance halls al:
“Are you Ce!
him if you see
“Positive,” |
“What would
nizes you, to
asked softly
I was read:
think he will
one in a crow
notice me, |
does, 'm reaq)
Thet detect!
minute and |
bench in the
conference W1!
I waited anx}
I knew that ¢
with me | wa
the case. But
thing as for
“It’s okay.
My heart |:
“You start
an evening &
to be a tax}
Ballroom.”
He explait
detail. The
joint and it!
a “fast” spol
person who }
shows up thi
There wer
tives in the
wasn’t to K!
I direct too!
and spoil t
to worry al
told to feel }
No set
when I spi
killers. The .
of itself. If
manoeuver !
since on thé
no telling
police had |
of the plac«
cooperation
I got to v
night when
ness. I ne’
isted. The:
music. The
I stood
All were a!
of rouge, ™
that conce<
gown look:
the others
minutes |


feet, tried to

came out

a

sidewise and

e pavement.

jagged a taxi-
.trolman to the
Bellevue Hos-

an questioned

, who had e

i

n-

irl, and who

the rear of the

mixed up

in

in anything,”
gasped. “For
me an ambu-

n examined the

u'll live.”

He

v, what’s your

pen to be sho

t?”

. started, one of

1 forced me
said he’d kill

to
me

th the stickup.

Then a cop came in and he took
a shot at me.” Cozzi moaned in self
pity. “He could have seen I didn’t
have a gun.”

Cozzi was also removed to Belle-
vue Hospital:

I was sitting on the floor along-
side Harry. He was still uncon-
scious. I was stroking his hand.
Words tumbled from my lips. I
don’t know what I said because my
heart was praying so loudly that
Harry should live.

They lifted him onto a stretcher
and carried him to the ambulance.
I tried to get in with him, but a uni-
formed policeman grabbed me by
the arm and shook his head.

“We—we’re supposed to get mar-
ried,” I cried.

He had a kind, understanding
face. He patted my arm in sym-
pathy and helped me onto the little
seat next to the doctor.

I wandered around the hospital in
a daze. They tried to send me home,
but I wouldn’t go. I stayed there
until morning when one of the doc-
tors came to me and said that Harry
would live.

He did live—but the wound made
him a hopeless cripple for life. The
bullet hit a spot near the spinal

column that severed certain nerves.
The rest of his life would have to

_ be lived in a wheel chair.

The witnesses to the crime gath-

ered in the District Attorney’s

office at 137 Centre Street. There
was a fine, brilliant prosecutor
named Miles O’Brien who was head
of the Homicide Bureau and who
did the questioning. He was a forth-
right attorney who brought to his
job an understanding of the prob-
lems and feelings of others.

The police learned that the gun-
man who was trapped in the kitchen
and whom Patrolman Sherry had
shot was Peter Gugliemetti. They
identified him through his finger-
prints. Although he was barely out
of his teens he had a record like
an old-timer and every job he pulled
was with (Continued on page 44)


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‘


COO, Eva, white,

, ie that Mrs. Degaltima

a ee

re.
of Columbia Avenue,
‘Boots’, and said she
camps on the upper
ner body was found.
mation, but it seemed
on of the crime. Then
iown “Boots” marched
{ swore that the ‘‘mys-

< driver, Walter Neff,
ntly claimed the “‘de-
deen with ‘Boots’ on
days after the mystery
ower.

proprietor of the res-
ccompanied by several
ontinued on page 104)

aunt of the murder
iystery girl’? from a

William R. Harris
-y to Chief of County
nter)

rer Boule-
points to

wer where

elec. NYS (Btsego) June 27, 193

1—Holding his hand to a head creased by a

lice bullet, Gustav Busher, New York

ity, alights from a patrol w: after an
attempted hold-up that failed

2—Joseph Caputo, racketeer, lies dead on

the floor of a confectionery store whose

owner he had mised ‘“‘protection’’ for

$40. He got the $40 and twelve deadly
bullets in the back

3—The exact spot where Police Sergeant
ohn S, Donlan was shot to death in his

ttle home. The man on the left is
Detective-Lieutenant Ernest Yoris; the
man on the right, the slayer who confessed

4—A consi t of “tough"’ prisoners
arrives at C. Hill Prison, Philadelphia,
after an | Space that almost demolishéd
Gratersf« Prison’ Farm at Collegeville

5—Eva Coo, New York's up-state Madame,

poses with jes during trial for the

murder of Harry Wright. No flowers grow

where “Little Eva’’ is living now—the death
house at Sing Sing

6—In a Pasadena penthouse—a beautiful,
y girl... murdered. Behind bars—a
Cealthy young man-about-town. You'll
find the engrossing details in The Master
Detective for December

7—Duplicating the inglorious finish of his

chief, Homer Van Meter, trigger-man of

the Dillinger mob, lies bullet-riddled in a
St. Paul alley


Cy

‘carved the
id, and she
« error. She
#oked more
aan an ex-
a dead for
supposedly
‘ectly fresh.
tion as to
ly to lower
when they
gain by his
rance com-
od to gain
and, insur-
e premiums
lower than
s indicated
stone cutter
a few days
cen out and
ut in Eva’s
> the hand-
flyleaf on

next they

e death had
aty was rife
od of having
ng for-

ne pair.
remark

t some day
‘x by a car.
her mutter
d than alive.
ime forward
Soo and her
the evening

ed a deserted
ountain and,
ad been an-
going there
s. He’d gone
July 14 and
Jane there.
ig any cher-
for a picnic

were they?”
ey had their
il in back of

od something
ice where the

. have enough
» decided, but
onfession. Of

e easier one to
it Jane might
enough, they

» got around

g that made

taken out life

if and on her

asy for police
t not be
ich long-
:w car.

s a wedge, it

melt Jane into

d talk.

lly sobbed. “I

“So you ran him down with your car?”

Jane nodded. “I think he was already dead,
though. She gave him an awful whack with
the hammer.”

“What hammer?” ,

“Well, a few days before he died .. . I mean
he was killed ... ah... we killed him. .
we drove around the countryside looking for
a good place. Then we hit on the farm. Eva
had a hammer with her and she hid it on the
porch... 7%

“After Gimpy had been out in the fields dig-
ging up the bushes, Eva yelled for him to
come back.

“ya told me to get in the car and start the
motor. He came up the hill . . . he was pretty
drunk and staggering. Eva waited for him and
stopped right in front of the car and offered
him a cigaret. Then I stepped on the gas. But
Gimpy heard me and turned around and saw
what was coming. He tried to jump out of the
way and Eva took the hammer out from under
her coat and smacked him on the head. He
went down without a sound.

“Eva kept yelling at me to drive back and
forth over his body and she kept looking down
to see when he was dead enough.

“When she decided he was never going to’ .

get up again, she told me to hold off. Then
she said we’d put him in the car and dump
him on the highway.

“But just about then we heard another car
coming up the farm road. ‘Get in and drive it
over him so they can’t see him. Hurry!’ Eva
yelled at me.

“J did and he never even saw him. It was
the owner and he started raising Cain about us
picking his cherries. He finally drove off and we
got a chance to dump Gimpy.”

With Jane’s complete confession as well as
an impressive array of evidence, the officers
went to work on Eva Coo. Little Eva, how-
ever, was a different customer. She had lost
her composure momentarily in the roadhouse
shortly after the murder, but since had re-
gained it and was determined to hang on to it.
The officers spent several days trying to break
her down, but Eva, fat and impassive, sat still
and refused to say anything at all. Occasionally
she allowed herself a shrug, but that was as
eloquent as she got. i

Finally the officers hit‘on a desperate strata-

gem. “Seeing nothing scares her, maybe she’s ©

got a superstitious streak,” Sheriff Mitchell

suggested. “How about giving it a try?”

Accordingly, only two days after Gimpy had
been buried, they dug him up again and dressed
him in the clothing he’d been wearing when he
was killed. Then, at about the same hour when
she and Jane had killed Gimpy, they drove
Eva to Crumhorn Mountain and up the nar-
row road to the deserted farmhouse. They had
chosen an eerie night, no moon or stars, just a.
foreboding drizzle. None of the officers said
much on the way. Silence, they hoped, might
also be foreboding. When they reached the
farmhouse, Eva asked no questions.

«We're getting out here,” one of the detec-
tives said in a sepulchral tone. Solemnly, the
officers led: Eva over to the place where Jane
had told them Gimpy had met his end.

“Look, look there!” one ‘of the officers said
excitedly, pointing down at poor Gimpy’s
body lying in the dirt.

Eva looked down.

“What do you see?” one of the officers de-
manded. ,

“Tt’s Gimpy, ain’t it?” Eva asked.

“Yes, it’s Gimpy.” -

“Well .. . what about it?”

“Get down and look at him.”

Eva reached down, hoisted poor Gimpy up
by his overall straps, then let him flop back
on the ground. “Sure, you fools, it’s Gimpy.”

The officers looked at each other disap-
pointedly. Eva had passed the superstition test
—they proved she wasn’t. ;

Eva Coo went to trial without having de-
livered herself of a confession. But at the
trial, Jane’s evidence dogged her every maneu-
ver, Eva made the best of it, claiming the death
had been accidental and that they had carted
the body to the highway thinking they’d col-
lect double indemnity. The story explained a
lot of the damaging evidence against her, but
it wasn’t good enough. ;

After deliberating only two hours, the jury
returned a verdict of guilty of murder in the
first degree. Judge Riley Heath sentenced Little
Eva to death.

Jane, her admitted accomplice, was sen-
tenced to 20 years to life.

Eva Coo remained in Sing Sing death row
for 10 months before she paid with death in the
electric chair for the murder of Harry Wright.
In her last days her steely nerve deserted her
and, in her last hours she sobbed and raved
like a mad woman, if not a repentant one. @

The Hearing-Aid Bandits

continued from page 53

down the street. Picking up speed as it went,
it was seen by several people, and later, al-
though descriptions of the car were surprising-
ly meager, police did learn that the car had
been traveling almost 70 miles an hour before
it disappeared.

Inside the bank, patrons and employes alike
seemed dazed by the exposure to violence and
needless death. Henry Kraus, the guard who
had died in an attempt to disarm the bandit,
had joined the bank only two years before.
He was 52 years old; this was his retirement
job. He was a quiet man who loved to feed the
birds in the bank parking lot during his lunch
hour. Later it was found that four slugs from
the submachine gun had entered his chest.

Death had been instantaneous, an exam showed.
When police arrived, a short time later, they
came in great force. They were headed by
Assistant Chief Inspector Raymond Martin and
were joined soon by a group of FBI agents
under Regional Director Harvey Foster.
Patrolman Accardi was questioned before
they put him in an ambulance to take him to

‘the Kings Highway Hospital a short distance

away. Accardi had only a fleeting look at the
one gunman. “I think I may have winged him,”
he told Chief Martin, but added, “I couldn’t
tell for sure .. . it all happened so fast.”
The people inside the bank couldn't be sure
whether the Tommygunner was hit either.
None of them had noticed blood on his cloth-

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71

street arrived
ration of the
“tions that the

n, stabbed a
e head, A .32
dillow.

4 ph Goldman,
thy, Walter
hered at the
eighbors, but
ng or hearing
| in on Hen-

one reported.
around here.”
ar.

area, made a
worked with

nation about
nette he had

They also
tumble John
nd.
vy,” one said.
staying here.
where she is.

1 Wilson.

{ by her hus-

ieir home in

thew entered
rustling
r opened

in an hand.

‘oing to drive

at gunpoint.
woman made
lice. Her call
Goldman,
ne. ,
hostage had.
s Road. Here
told the man

ves closed in
ounded, was
no resistance.
-e taken from

found parked
iquarters,

ced that Wil-
w. They said
slaying, and
ried for two
beaten him,
1 four times,
and shot him.
id one of the
t, but a rib

‘e couch after
to find the
om a cigaret.
sed he had no

ce found her
Street. They
ipartment for
aw had been

had gone to
+= oman.

'th first-

he is in

mm ie charge

|

Little Eva’s Lay-Away Plan

continued from page 41 .

turn slowly, but once they finished grinding
she knew what she wanted. By early spring
of 1934, she had.a plan. It was an elaborate
one and, when she had it worked out to the
last detail, she took Jane aside and in low
tones explained it to her. Jane listened closely,
then her eyes narrowed and she began shaking
her head. “Oh no, not me, Eva,’ she whispered.

“Yeah, you,” Eva said, pointing a fat finger
at her. Eva wasn’t the kind of woman who
backs down for anybody.

A few days later, she went to town add re- ~
‘turned driving a new car. When Jane came

out of the roadhouse to take a look at it, she
tossed her the keys. “Here, honey, it’s all
yours.”

“Oh no!” Jane exclaimed, more in horror
than surprise.

“Oh yes, honey, yours for keeps. I put good
money down on it and we’ll pay the rest
when... well... later.”

Jane continued to protest, but by the after-
noon’s end she had taken over the new car
and was proudly showing it off to friends. The
following afternoon, Eva locked up the road-

house and got in the car with her current boy-.

friend and Jane. “We'll be back in a little
while,” she told Gimpy. “We're going off to
pick some flowers.” Gimpy grinned goodna-
turedly, while Eva laughed heartily.

Two days later, July 14, 1934, as he fin-
ished putting the last few touches of paint: to
the house, Gimpy seemed aware that.a change
had come over his employer. First it had been
wild flowers, now it was going to be some
bushes out in front. Eva never had talked
like that before. Of course it was none of his
business and, when he was finished, he wiped
the paint from his hands, went out to the
shed and got the shovel which he’d need to
dig up the bushes.

Eva had packed some sandwiches and beer
and, as well, a bottle of booze. “I thought
you’d like it, Gimpy,” she said. “Diggin’s hard
work,”

Gimpy smiled an appreciative smile. “Which
way we going?” he asked, settling back in the
seat of the car.

“Up on Crumhorn Mountain,” Eva said.

W BEN they got on the mountain, they

turned up a steep road that led up to a de-
serted farmhouse near the top. Jane seemed
to know the way.

“This is where we went flower pickin’ the
other day,” Eva explained. It wasn’t often
that she or anyone else bothered to explain
anything to Gimpy, but on this day she was
being remarkably solicitous. The road up to
the farmhouse was a pair of deep ruts well
overgrown with weeds, The house itself had
been unpainted for many years. It was gray
and weatherbeaten and bats, birds and wind
circulated freely through its broken windows.
It-was just what Jane and Eva had hoped for
—deserted, hidden away and out of earshot of
the main road.

They got out. “Git your shovel, Gimp,” Eva
said, patting his shoulder affectionately. “I'll
show you where to git the bushes . . . Here,”
she reached into the lunch basket and pulled
out a bottle of bad whisky, “you might take
this along. Might as well take a swig right

a

| :
now. Go on, do as I say. If you want, take one
of them sandwiches.”

Gimpy smiled unbelievably at Eva’s friend-
liness. “Sure,” he said, and took a long, hard
pull, wiping his old mouth on the back ofthis
hand. Still smiling, he stuck the bottle’ in his
overall pocket, picked up the shovel and
limped down the road in back of the house
after Eva, Jane sat down. apprehensively on
the sagging porch and waited. A little later,
Eva came back and sat down beside her,
“Don’t you look glum, honey. It'll be done

with soon.” : /

Jane poked at a board with her shoe.

“And then that car’s going to be all yours,”
Eya reminded her.

Jane brightened a little. “He’s going to be
awful drunk,” she said quietly.

“Awful detink: ” Eva echoed. “We'll have to

. keep him on his feet. If he was lying down it.

might not do any good.” She reached, over and
patted Jane on the shoulder. “Be a good girl
and move the car up a little ways, so it’s
pointed right down the road. Then we'll have
ourselves a bite to eat.”

It was nearly dark when Eva and Jane got
back to the roadhouse. There weren’t many
customers that night, just a few regulars. A
nice day takes a lot out of a farmer. The ‘con-
versation never really did get going and it was
Eva’s fault: She was jumpy and on edge. Jane
was down at the mouth, too. It was’ an eve-
ning where nobody told a dirty joke, nobody
got good and drunk and the customers talked
dully about crop prices. Until about 11 o’clock,
at least, when, during a silence at the long

bar, Eva suddenly lifted her gaze from the)

floor and in a voice charged with emotion,
blubbered, “Gimpy’s gone and got himself
killed !”
Heads jerked up all around the room. Jane’s
eyes popped out of her head in horror.
“Huh? Killed? What do you mean?” one
farmer asked her. /

Equally shocked at what she had blurted

out, Eva was flustered. Her hands twitched,
her heavy lips jerked around for a bit, ‘then
she stammered, “I mean he hasn’t been around
all night . . . most of the afternoon, too. He
never runs off for as long as that. He’s prob-
ably got hit by a car. What else could have
happened to him?” By the time she had fin-
ished, her voice had reached a hysterical pitch.

There was dead silence in the roadhouse.
Nobody’d ever seen Eva when it looked as if
her nerves were about to crack. As for Gimpy
getting hit by a:car, none of them took to
that idea, They’d seen Gimpy make his way
along the highway at night and figured if he
were drunk enough he could thread his way
among the finalists at Indianapolis Speedway
without getting a scratch.

“Y’d feel terrible if anything happened to
old Gimpy,” Eva said. This was a surprise to
everyone, too. “I mean it,” Eva said, dabbing
her eyes with the bar rag. “He might have his
faults, but he meant an awful lot to me.”

It was news to her customers, but the men
around the bar couldn’t do less than com-
miserate and tell her that Gimpy would be
turning up soon enough. Eva was inconsolable,
however, and, at about midnight, she slid out
from behind the bar and went to the telephone

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69

net ih Crumhorn Mountain flanks
CAE ssi the green, winding Susque-
we ! hanna Valley for a short dis-
tance in the Catskill foothills
of upper New York State. The Oneonta-
Albany concrete highway follows through
the valley like a hard white ribbon with
a black thread cutting the middle.

Occasionally one of the cars that
traveled along this much used highway
at night would stop at a neatly painted
yellow roadhouse called Woodbine Inn.
On the aluminum mailbox in front were
the crudely scrawled letters, EVA COO,
RD-1.

Sometime after 9 o’clock on the night
of June 14th, Fred Palmer, hired man
for Eva’s nearest neighbor, Mrs. Clara
Meyers, strolled along toward the road-
house. He saw that the inn lights were
on; saw Eva Coo moving about behind
the unshaded:' windows. He went around
back, pushed the kitchen screen door
open and entered. Parrots screamed at
him, a puppy came bounding forward, a
sleeping cat in a corner stretched and
yawned. It was evident she liked pets.

*FHello,”
hearing t!
your radi

; Eva Co:
ward, sm
over her ¢:

“Have y
asked. “I’

“No,” re
ward the
“What’s th:

“Ym wor
leathery, s!
the wind
Wright we:
around du
should hav
expected 1

/in a car a:
know how
in Oneont:

Eva Co
Palmer, a
stared at }

knew how

was Eva’s }

“he was, to

: Grim ¢


70

on the wall. “I’m going to call the sheriff,”. she
said. “I’ve got to know what’s happened to
him.” :

A little later, Sheriff George H. Mitchell and
the state police got to work on the case of the
missing Gimpy. Locating him turned out to be
a simple matter for Eva’s fear had been pro-
phetic. They found him lying on a highway,
smelling very much of alcohol, his body
crushed. “Looked like a truck hit him,” one
of the officers told the weeping Eva back at
the roadhouse.

Sheriff Mitchell and Trooper W. C. Cadwell
saw to the removal of the body. A little later,
joined by Coroner Norman Getman, they had
a closer look at it. It didn’t take long to discov-
er that there were several very puzzling things
about the body. In the first place, Gimpy had
not simply been run over once, but many times,
His chest was caved in, his skull was crushed,
his limbs were broken.

Also, tire marks zigged and zagged’ across
his clothes. Could he have been hit and
knocked down by one car and then run over
by several more without any of the drivers
notifying the police? It seemed unlikely to the
officers. Another thing which aroused their
suspicions was the fact that Gimpy’s clothes
were encrusted with earth. Dirt. had been
ground into the fabric of his shirt and over-
alls, yet his body had been found on a stretch
of highway that was paved with cement and
relatively clean. 5

“This looks bad,” Sheriff Mitchell said.

Cadwell and the coroner agreed. with him.

“T’'ll tell’ you something else,” Mitchell said. ’
“When we found the body I looked around for ©

pieces of glass from a broken headlight. I
never saw a case where a man was hit by a
car like this where you didn’t find some glass
around. It doesn’t add up. Gimpy wasn’t run
over where we found him. We might have a
homicide here.” :

Not a word of the officers’ suspicion was

- tive?

breathed to the unaccountably grief-stricken
Eva, but they quietly began to question the
men who frequented her bar. The first startling
thing they came up with was the fact that
even before the police were notified that Gimpy
was missing, Eva had predicted that he had
been run over by a car, An odd prophecy and,
more important, a correct one. Too, some of
the men who had known her longest were the
most surprised at her-sudden grief at: Gimpy’s
death. “Never knew she cared a hang about
him,” one of them said. “Eva always had bet-
ter men than Gimpy to take care of her... .”

Eva’s about-face in her affections for Gimpy
made her subject for increased suspicion. But,
some officers wondered, suppose she had ar-
ranged for his death, what could be her mo-

{ [THE investigation made headway slowly until

police got a phone call from a man who
identified himself as a’ stone cutter who had
been hired several months earlier by Eva Coo
to do a little work on a tombstone. He soon
was. standing in. a cemetery. pointing to the
stone and explaining to the officers what he
had been asked to do to it. The stone marked
the family plot of Harry “Gimpy” Wright. The
last of his line, his name was inscribed beneath
that of his father and mother, both deceased,
with the dates of their deaths marked. Beside

‘'Gimpy’s name was the date of his birth, 1885.

But, explained the stone cutter, that is how he
had changed it to read. Before that, Gimpy’s
birthdate had been engraved as 1880.

Eva had wanted to make Harry younger by
five years. Why?

The stone cutter didn’t know. But she also
had paid him to carve her name and date of
birth beneath Harry’s name.

'The investigators asked Eva about the

changing of the tombstone. She assured them
that 1885 was the actual date of Harry’s birth.

‘She had Harry’s family Bible to prove it, The

Ce

OcrEe

“Do you mind? He’s my first arrest!”

\

stone cutter who had originally carved the
stone had made the mistake, she said, and she
had just wanted to clear up the error. She
showed them the Bible. To them it looked more
like a possible piece of evidence than an ex-
planation. Harry’s father had been dead for

‘ten years, but the ink where he supposedly

inscribed his son’s birth looked perfectly fresh.

The officers sought an explanation as to
why Eva might want so desperately to lower
Gimpy’s .age. They learned why when they
tried to find out what Eva might gain by his
death and checked with area insurance com-
panies.’ They discovered Eve stood to gain
$10,000 from a life insurance poticy and, insur-
ance company officials explained, the premiums
on the policy were considerably lower than
they would have been if records indicated
Harry was five years older, The stone cutter
had been hired to do his job only a few days
before the insurance policy was taken out and
the policy form had been filled out in Eva’s
handwriting, which was much like the hand-
writing that had inscribed the flyleaf on
Gimpy’s family Bible.

The police now had a motive; next they
needed to know where and how the death had
taken place. By that time, the county was rife
with rumors that Eva was suspected of having
done in Gimpy and people began coming- for-
ward to tell what they knew about the pair,
There were people who had heard Eva remark
that she felt it in her bones that some day
Gimpy was going to get run over by a car.
There were others who had heard her mutter
that he was worth more to her dead than alive.
Most important was a man who came forward
and said that he had seen Eva Coo and her
friend Jane on his Property on the evening

_ Gimpy had been killed.

The man explained that he owned a deserted
farm on the top of Crumhorn Mountain and,
for the past several weeks, he had been an-
nhoyed because people had been going there
and stealing cherries from his trees, He’d gone
to the farm on the evening of July 14 and

‘found Eva Coo and her friend Jane there,

“They told me they weren't eating any cher-
ries. They said they just came up for a picnic
and to dig up some shrubs,”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“Nope.” ;
“Didn't see Gimpy ?”

“Nope.” :

\ “Whereabouts on the property were they?”

“They were on the porch, They had their
car parked heading down the hill in back of
the house.” hes .

The officers had the motive and, something
told them, they had found the place where the

‘murder took place. They might have enough

evidence to put Eva on trial, they decided, but
they'd feel better if they had a confession, Of
the two women, Jane seemed the easier one to
tackle. Eva had nerves of steel, but Jane might
talk if they kept at her long enough, they
theorized,

/As it turned out, before they got around.

to ‘it, they discovered something that made

their job a lot easier—Eva had taken out life
insurance policies on Jane herself and on her
own current boyfriend. It was easy for police
to speculate that the: boyfriend might not be

. destined to enjoy Eva’s favors for much long-

er or Jane to enjoy the use of her new car.
Even with this information as a wedge, it
took 20 hours of questioning to melt Jane into
a frame of mind where she would talk. °
. “Eva made me do it,” she finally sobbed. “I
didn’t want to.” ~

1

eam seats

ee NPIL 5) a

“So vou rar

Jan d
thougl gi
the ha.

“What hamn

“Well, a few

he was killed
we drove arou
a good place. °
had a hammer
porta. *.
“After Gimp)
ging up the b
come back.
“Eva told me
motor. He cam
drunk and stag;
stopped right i
him a cigar@t.
Gimpy heard n
what was comi:
way and Eva tc
her coat and s
went down wit
“Eva kept ye
forth over his b
to see when he
“When she d
get up again, s
she said we’d ;
him on the hig
“But just abc
coming up the :
over him so thi
yelled at me.
“T did and h
the owner and }
picking his cher:
got a chance to
With Jane’s «
an impressive :
went to work «
ever, was a dif
her composure

shortly tk
gained Wi
The of er

her down, but }
and refused to s:
she allowed her
eloquent as she

Finally the off
gem. “Seeing nc
got a superstit:

down the street.
it was seen by
though descriptic
ly meager, polic
been traveling a)
it disappeared.
Inside the ban
seemed dazed by
needless death. }

_had died in an :

had joined the

He was 52 year:
job. He was a qu
birds in the ban}
hour. Later it w
the submachine

ade up
od, and
are the

its and
Rosa

& Lottie
-s, same
oarder,

*  uestion
rnie.”
am and
llowing
se that
va hit-
to ques-
s within
ne in an
iey had
\Wright’s
it in for
it have
destrian,
ont end,

is under-
not quite
had an-
Trooper
recalled
th, “a gal
mighty
vs Knight
over
ying

__ -iked

Maynard
in at 9:55
iad asked
Lidn’t say,
zit. “She
it of here,
> car over

ved it up

une Rosa
Street in

yund that
ployed as
Sergeant
le garage
hey made
big sedan
under the
iey found
vusly like

coantCun-
litchell to
_ subdued
s the desk
control his
he was on
id not yet
g this con-
inningham

2

ae, Sheriff
--- rarlier

he had been pleasant and friendly as he
began questioning Tatum, he now turned
hard and blunt. He told the quivering
alcoholic he wanted to talk to him about
“the murder of Harry Wright.”

Tatum’s trembling increased visibly,
but he insisted he knew nothing about
what had happened to “poor old Harry.”
Then, almost as if mimicking his benefac-
tress, Eva Coo, he corrected himself and
said, “What the hell, he wasn’t so old.”

The sheriff agreed, dryly adding, “On
his tombstone, poor Harry’s been getting
younger every day.”

Ernie, despite his bad case of the
shakes, resisted all attempts to get him to
change his story, until the sheriff told him
coldly he was trying to make up his mind
whether to» hold him as “a murder
suspect, a killer’s accessory, or as.a
material witness.” Andso, at length, Er-
nie Tatum talked. To begin with, he
swore -he knew nothing about the fatal
mishap that killed his pal Harry Wright,
who would have been 49 or 54 next Oc-
tober. He’d known that Eva Coo ordered
the change of Harry’s birth year on the

‘ gravestone, but he'd never heard her dis-

cuss such a change with Harry.

H. own relations with the lame lan-
dyman had been unvaryingly cordial. He
and Harry, apparently, had shared a sort
of common thrall of helplessness and
dependence on Eva Coo in their respec-
tive existences at the Woodbine Inn, Er-
nie said. :

Had he ever talked with Harry about
Harry’s insurance? :

“I talked with Eva about Harry’s in-
surance,” Tatum replied.- -

This had happened on and off for
months, Ernie said when pressed for
specifics. “I moved in with Eva last
summer, and almost right away she
began telling me how. Harry was nuts
about insurance and wanted more
policies. I took care of most all the cor-
respondence, writing to various firms
and signing his name.”

“Naming yourself as the beneficiary?”
asked Undersheriff Brady.

“Are you kidding?” Tatum retorted.
“Eva is Harry’s sole beneficiary. She told
me that he wanted it that way, that he
knew he owed her everything.”

In response to a direct question, Ernie
Tatum said that the last time he saw
Harry Wright alive was at half-past six the
previous Thursday evening, when he had
spoken briefly with him. Each of them
tossed off a bottle of cold beer, and Eva's
handyman had mentioned that he was go-
ing with her and one of the girls to dig up
some shrubs.

They would be taking them on the
sly—swiping them, Harry had indicated.

“How did he indicate that?” Sheriff
Mitchell asked.

“Oh Harry wasn’t so dumb, Sheriff,”
Tatum answered. “He could seem dull
and aggravating enough when he thought

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77,


ctor, as he . bottle. According to local gossip, Emie, Dr. Winsor and two associates per- of the events of the previous evening,
ion of the then a furnace salesman, had stopped at formed an autopsy on Harry Wright’s they found that according to Wright's
.e by, her the Inn one day to try to sell the ownera remains on Thursday afternoon. They — employer, Mrs. Coo, Harry had left the
keup, Eva new furnace. At the time, he wasdapper- came up with a rather baffling summary Woodbine Inn about 7 p.m. to go to in-
ly dressed, with adebonairmanner about __ of their findings. As a result, the doctor vestigate a prospective painting job.
reliminary him, a good looking guy who was con- ‘drove to Cooperstown with Trooper Harry’s arrangement with the Inn’s
had been siderably younger than the woman Cadwell, and there, at 5:30 p.m., they _ proprietress permitted him to seek odd
ich would proprietor. conferred with Sergeant John L. Cun- jobs around, the rural neighborhood
t 8:30 p.m. Ernie never did sell Eva a furnace for — ningham, of the State Police, and Owen _ whenever his services as painter and han-
a crushed her rowdy roadhouse, but it seemed he _P. Brady, who was Undersheriff of Otsego | dyman were not in urgent demand at the
- are caved had'sold himself. He promptly received | County. roadhouse. The trooper had noted in his
rs are frac- an almost immediate invitation to warm According to the post mortem report, report that Lottie James, with a nervous
_what we the lady’s highly receptive heart. nearly all of Harry Wright's ribshadbeen _ giggle, had mentioned the “queer” coin-
tkilled in- Knowledgeable locals who hung around fractured. Both of his shoulder blades had cidence that Harry had just finished his
; the barber shop in Schenevus were fond __ suffered multiple fractures. A wound on _ “big paint job on thesummer bungalows”
‘ining the of saying that “instead of selling a fur- ~ his temple suggested that he had been _ adjoining the Inn only this past Tuesday
suld find no nace; Ernie bought himself a red hot struck down by some heavy implement — evening. That was only two days before
» comment momma.” And_ Ernie’s monumental or object which was not part of themotor _ his fatal accident.

didn’teven

Grisly, coldblooded murder wa

alcoholic benders soon. became part of
local legend.

a

s carried out near so-called “haunted house” at a spot indicated by arrow

ca

vehicle that had crushed his thoracic cavi-
ty almost to a pulp.

Harry, the trooper had established, had
never arrived to keep his appointment to

Eva Coo Eva and Lottie went looking for Ernie “In my opinion,” Dr. Winsor stated, discuss the new painting job. He had been

harsh, as after midnight on the morning of June _— “the car that killed this man passed over found dead only a few hundred yards

ve 15th and found him passed out inagutter —_— him not once, but twice.” from his point of departure, in fact. From

aid sudden- in town. He had revived somewhat by the Trooper-Cadwell expressed a thought _his autopsy findings, Dr. Winsor had fix-

out 20 yards time they got him back to the Inn and __ that had been bothering him. “I still can’t ed_the time of death at approximately
" mumbled drunkenly about Harry, his pal, figure,” he said, “why Harry washithead- 8:30 p.m. _

ig the head- when the women tried to tell him what __ on by a truck or a car on that side of the That meant that Harry Wright had

is no cap of
v one hat, a
all he ever
Bob Jillson
ompted the
‘p the cap; it
of evidence.
ed, Eva and
vhere Lottie
‘mnie Tatum

~

had happened to the handyman. It didn’t
seem to register. He kept babbling on

_ about “old Harry,” prompting Eva again

to bristle.

“Harry wasn’t so old!” she snapped.
“Why does everybody keep calling him
old? He was only forty-eight.”

road. Shouldn’t it have hit him from
behind? Unless maybe the force of the
first blow spun him around so that he fell
backward right in the car’s path?”
“Let's go over it again, from the begin-
ning,” Undersheriff Brady suggested.
Consulting Trooper Cadwell’s report

been alive for more than an hour after
leaving the Inn. Yet he had never reached
his destination, which was a walk that
should have taken no more than 20
minutes, even for a man afflicted, as
Harry was, with a limp.

(Continued on page 75)

s the one
ig—guest at
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parently, too,
e was for the =

TD DOUBLE-LENGTH FEATURE

ut them

inued to
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‘ . finally
he had
ode her
bbeville
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stopped
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low her.

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he con-
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p of her
ight she
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» I puta
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eks later,
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delivered
. pleading
ifortunate
ices over
“awful at-
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1e witness-
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and two
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nce of the
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islikeawild

—Titath”
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if |

a

The Murderous Blonde

(Continued from page 35)

The handyman had been found lying
in a ditch on the eastbound side of the
highway, the side on which traffic moved
toward the Inn from Oneonta. Walking to
his appointment, Harry would have been
headed in the same direction. A local

_ man, familiar with every foot of this area

and a countryman all his life, Harry
would have been sure to walk against the
stream of traffic. On his way to the scene
of his appointment, which lay between
the Woodbine Inn and Oneonta, Harry
would most probably have trudged along
the eastbound side of the highway in
order to face the approaching west-
bound traffic.

He would not, however, have taken
nearly 90 minutes to walk less than a
quarter of a mile.

“Could it be that he was struck by a
westbound vehicle and knocked clear
across the highway to the ditch on the
eastbound side?” Undersheriff Brady
speculated.

Dr. Winsor shook his head skeptically.
“An impact as heavy as that,” he said,
“would surely have produced leg or arm
or pelvic fractures, possibly a series of
them. Besides, Bill Cadwell and I comb-
ed over the highway for dozens of yards
in both directions.

“There wasn’t a tire mark, a skid mark,
or any spattering of blood. Also, the man
did not die instantly.”

Had the victim, perhaps, been drinking
and turned back toward home, forgetting
his job-hunting errand and the ordinary
precaution of walking on the safer side of
the road, against the traffic?

Dr. Winsor had a quick answer for that:
“Wright was not drunk,” he stated firmly.
“We found only insignificant traces of
alcohol in his system. He might have had
a shot of whiskey or a bottle of beer with
his dinner.”

“Bill, were you able to learn anything
about the cap you found?” Sergeant Cun-
ningham asked the trooper.

“Not much,” Cadwell replied. He said
that so far, he had shown the gray cloth

‘cap to anumber.of storekeepers, some in

Oneonta, some in smaller communities
such as Maryland and Schenevus. He had
been told that a salesman with a cheap
line of men’s wear had come through the
area about a year ago. He had been offer-
ing caps like this one at a bargain price,
and apparently had sold a lot of them.

’ They were so common as to make it vir-

tually impossible to trace the purchaser of
any individual cap.

Trooper Cadwell went on to say that in
Oneonta he had found a haberdasher
who still had one of the caps, identical to
the one he had found, in stock. By com-
paring the two caps, Cadwell had dis-
covered that a careful hand had snipped
both the size tab and the maker’s label
from the gray cap he found in the road-

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i

side ditch only a few yards away from
Harry Wright’s body.

On Saturday morning, June 16th, Un-
dersheriff Brady and Sergeant Cun-
ningham held a conference on the Wright
case. with Sheriff George Mitchell. The
dim outline of what began to look like an
ingenious crime now challenged the in-
vestigators. All agreed it was entirely
possible that Harry Wright had not been
struck by a hit-and-run vehicle in a tragic

.accident, -but that he had died by

murderous design.

Harry Wright had lived and worked in
the region all his life. For some three years
past, he had been employed, and resided
at, the disreputable roadhouse, a favored
place, according to local report, for
assignations between young beauties and
lecherous older men of means. He must
have seen and heard many things he'd
have been better off not knowing. It was
not improbable that he had made himself
some enemies,

Originally Wright had made his home
in nearby Portlandville, where he had liv-
ed with his mother until her death three
years ago. Thereafter he had moved to
Eva Coo’s Woodbine Inn, earning his
board and lodging as her man of all work.

Harry, however, was far from a robust
man, and being partially crippled as well,
there were limitations to his “handiness”
Despite this, however, Eva had seemed
to find many uses for him. She liked to
freshen up her place with an annual paint
job, and Harry, although admittedly
much slower working than a professional
painting contractor would be, was
quite capable of doing this chore to her

_. Satisfaction. In return for this and other

services, like occasional carpentry and
minor plumbing jobs, she had provided
the lonely and handicapped Jack-of-all-

‘work a year-round home, with three

square meals a day.

In the absence of any more tangible
lead to proceed on, Sheriff Mitchell
suggested that his undersheriff go to
Portlandville on Monday and attend
Harry Wright's burial service. “You might
just possibly pick up a bit of gossip over
there and get a line on who might want

‘ such an inoffensive little guy out of the

way.

Undersheriff Brady found a pitifully
small. gathering of people ‘at the
cemetery, but brassy blonde Eva Coo
was in conspicuous attendance. She was
escorted by a surprisingly sober Ernie
Tatum, although he clearly reflected the
intense strain unaccustomed sobriety had
put upon him. He looked desperately in
need of drink.

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76

been driven home with a bang—a
fusillade of bangs, in fact. Ten men
were mowed down by a firing squad
recently for agitating against a new
government decree which granted the
fair sex the same rights as males under
the law. |

The public execution took place
after the National security Court
sentenced the offenders ‘to death for
“subverting state authority and
creating national disunity.” The 10 men
were arrested and the charges brought
against them after they had spoken out
in mosques against the equal rights
decree. ‘

Asked if any women were on the fir-
ing squad which dispatched the dis-
senters to kingdom come, a govern-
ment spokesman replied with a small
smile: ,

“No. When it comes to firearms,
women are not equal to men.”

Early that afternoon the undersheriff
was back in Cooperstown reporting his
finds to his chief: “Harry’s name and birth
year were already carved on the Wright
family monument, together with those of
his parents. Then I spotted something
else—a newly cut numeral in Harry’s
birth year. I looked up old Mac Gregor,
the stone-cutter, and learned something
pretty odd...”

Brady said that less than four weeks
ago, on May 23rd, MacGregor had receiv-
ed an order to alter Harry’s birth year
from 1880 to 1885. The order had come to
him, from the Woodbine Inn. Mrs. Coo,
Harry’s employer, had telephoned saying
that at Harry’s request, she wished to
have a long-standing mistake set right.

It had even been a joke in Harry’s fami-
ly, the lady explained. He was not 54, but
49, and he wouldn’t even be 49 till next
October. The stone-cutter had promptly
complied. It only meant changing a zero
to a5, and Mrs. Coo herself had sent him
the payment for his work.

“They tamper with a gravestone and in
three weeks’ time the poor guy is using it,”
the sheriff said dryly.

“The only answer if our suspicions are
right, seems to be insurance,” Brady ven-
tured, “or maybe some kind of in-
heritance Harry might have been due to
get.”

“I’m thinking insurance,” the sheriff
said.

Brady agreed. “It adds up. On May
23rd, Harry is made five years younger.
On June 14th, the poor guy is dead. How
would a date on a gravestone matter, with
Harry alive? You only had to ask him to
find out his age.”

“But maybe someone was counting on
Harry not staying alive,” the sheriff
suggested.

The undersheriff nodded, adding, “I

_ Objection Overruled ,
: In Mogadishu, Somaliland; the prin-
ciple of equal rights for women has

bt

had a hunch! might need it, so I made up
a list. Besides Wright, the deceased, and
Eva Coo herself, these four people are the
ones most familiar with the sights and
sounds at Merry Woodbine: Rosa
Pragele, known as the hostess; Lottie
J ames, an entertainer; Olive Brooks, same
kind of entertainer; and the star boarder,
Ernie Tatum.”

“Okay,” said the sheriff, “let’s question
them, one at a time. Begin with Ernie.”

Meanwhile, Sergeant Cunningham and

three troopers had been following - °

through on the original premise that
Harry Wright had been killed by a hit-
and-run driver. They had set out to ques-
tion mechanics and garage owners within
a 25-mile radius of the death scene in an
effort to determine whether they had
seen any Car or truck, since Wright's
death, which had been brought in for
repair of damage that might have
resulted from hitting a pedestrian,
possibly bearing dents on the front end,
or bloodstains.

It was a massive, albeit tedious under-
taking, but it paid off, although not quite
in the manner the officers had an-
ticipated. At anOneonta garage, Trooper
Maynard found a mechanic who recalled
that on the night of Harry’s death, “a gal
was in here who seemed mighty
flustered. She’d rented our Willys Knight
sedan for the evening, that heavy job over
there. The ticket réad that she was trying
it out and might buy the car if she liked
it,

Checking the rental invoice, Maynard
found,that the car was turned in at.9:55
p.m., June 14th. The mechanic had asked
her how she liked the car. She didn’t say,
but she certainly wasn’t buying it. “She
paid what she owed and shot out of here,
practically runping. I looked the car over

carefully, but she hadn’t scraped it up |

none.” ,

The women had given the name Rosa
Pragele, of an address on Main Street in
Oneonta. The mechanic said she was a
“tall, nice looking gal, maybe 26 or 27.
Wore glasses with heavy black frames.”

Trooper Maynard sw.iftly found that
Rosa Pragele was presently employed as
a hostess at the Woodbine Inn. Sergeant
Cunningham joined him at the garage
when he reported all this, and they made
a minute examination of the big sedan
Miss Pragele had rented. Just under the
edge of the rear seat cushion they found
spots which looked suspiciously like
blood.

At the very moment that Sergeant Cun-
ningham telephoned Sheriff Mitchell to
report this discovery, a sober, subdued
Ernie Tatum was sitting across the desk
from the sheriff, trying hard to control his
twitching hands. He had said he was on
the wagon, but the sheriff had not yet
been able to establish how long this con-
dition had existed when Cunningham
called. rite

After he hung up the phone, Sheriff
Mitchell changed his tack. Where earlier

et ne

he had been p!
began question
hard and blun
alcoholic he w:
“the murder of
Tatum’s tre:
but he insisted
what had happ
Then, almost a:
tress, Eva Coo
said, “What th:
The sheriff «
his tombstone,
younger every
Ernie, des;
shakes, resisted
‘change his stor,
coldly he was t:
whether to hi
suspect, a kill
material witnes
nie Tatum tal!
swore -he knew
mishap that kil
who would hav
tober. He’d kno
the change of |
gravestone, but
cuss such a char

H. own rela

dyman had bee
and Harry, app
of common th
dependence on
tive existences ;
nie said.
Had he ever
Harry’s insuran:
“T talked wit
surance,” Tatun
This had hay
months, Ernie
specifics. “I m
summer, and
began telling n
about insuranc
policies. I took
respondence, v
and signing his ;
“Naming you:
asked Undershe
“Are you kid
“Eva is Harry’s :
me that he war
knew he owed |
In response t
Tatum said tha
Harry Wright ali
previous Thursd
spoken briefly +
tossed off a bott!
handyman had n
ing with her and
some shrubs.
They would '
sly— swiping the
“How did he
Mitchell asked.
“Oh Harry Ww:
Tatum answere:
and aggravating


ie accepted all this
it and always ad-
ly as “ma’am.”
winter, a snappily-
salesman dropped in
and tried to interest
ating plant. He had
wise at all, but he
engaging personality
. shine to him and
His name was Ab-
| 35, and he made it
gain. This time Eva
by his geniality that
iks on the house, told
spare room upstairs
to stay. Bossert, a
furnace business was
gold mine, accepted
ved in and thereafter
ip his selling job en-
most of his time to
»odbine, drinking free
thing Limpy do the

n use, was. actually
in unsuspecting man.

known that she was
Bossert and Wright
It sorry for them.
aard time of it,” she
‘and if I can help’em
rt If?

he area, unaware of
in to think she had a
her hard-boiled ex-
cs. Margaret Burrows,
vorcee who lived at
a nearby and was a
the Woodbine. Mar-
Eva’s closest friend,
ll to think there was

any philanthropy tucked away in her
ample innards—understood perfectly
well, in fact, that she was out strictly

. for Number One. As Margaret saw it,

Eva kept Limpy around because she
got an awful lot of work out of him for
next to nothing. She extended hospi-
tality to Bossert because she liked him
and, as the song said, it was nicé to

. have a man around the house.

As for Limpy Wright, he kept slaving
away night and day, with Bossert
lolling around idly watching him do
his chores. It was a situation that
would have annoyed most men, but

not Limpy. He took it in stride, thank-

ful to have a job.

But things were happening that were
to have profound effect on Little Eva,
Limpy Wright and Abner Bossert. Late
in 1933 the Volstead Act was repealed,
and soon after that Prohibition became
a memory. This meant that Eva’s dis-
pensing of liquor, formerly illegal, was
now within the law. Worse jee te her,
it meant that liquor stores and road-
houses were sprouting all over the
countryside. No longer did thirsty
scoflaws have to drive many miles
for a nip at the Woodbine Inn.: She
had competition galore, and as a re-
sult her business and her profits took a
beating.

Formerly prosperous, she now had to
pull in her horns and look for ways to
economize. For one thing, she reduced
Limpy’s salary to four dollars a week,
a cut he took without a whimper. For
another, she began to grow tired of the
nonproductive Bossert and to regard
him as a needless extravagance.

One day when Bossert was well
warmed with liquid corn, she broached
a new subject to him.

“Abner, dear,” she said, “you got any
insurance?”

“All I got is a thousand dollars,” he
replied. “Enough to bury me when I
leave this vale of tears. Why?”

“You know that ain’t enough,” she
scolded. “You ought to have a lot more
than that. I got a good steady customer
who sells insurance and I want to give
him some business. Now you be sen-
sible and take out some more life
insurance.”

Although he could see little point in
it, he yielded to her urging and took
out another $1000 policy which paid
double indemnity in case of accidental
death. “But who should I make bene-
ficiary?” he asked. “I haven't got any
near relatives.”

“Why, me, of course,” she replied.
“Ain’t I the best friend you have on
this earth?” “

“Sure, sure,” Bossert agreed. Having
had a few more drinks than usual, he
was amenable to suggestion. It never
occurred to. suspect the lady’s motives.

Invited for a pleasant evening drive in the mountains, the victim accepted
gratefully, never dreaming he was fall guy in an inhuman murder conspiracy.

m SOON AFTER THIS she ap-

.. proached Limpy Wright with the same

proposition. Wright, who had no insur-
ance at all, was agreeable except for
one point.

“T can’t afford none, ma’am,” he said.

Eva knew that this was not literally”

true. The handy man, who scarcely
ever spent a nickel, had added bit by
bit to his savings until he now had
something like $1200 in the bank. Dim-
ly aware of his insecurity, he regarded
his bank account as something to be
reserved for the rainy day that would
come if and when he lost his job.

“Of course you can afford it,” she
snapped. “Why, you're the richest guy
around here and you know it.”

“But I got to think of my future,” he
pleaded. >

Limpy, however, could not say no to
Eva, who was fully capable of hauling
off and walloping him if she became
angry. When she offered to pay half
the premiums, he agreed to take out
some insurance.

“How old are you?” she demanded.

The slow-witted handy man did

some figuring. “Let’s see,” he mumbled. |

“Yeh, I’m 54.”

“Sufferin’ cats!” she cried. “You
don’t look that old. The insurance
would be a lot cheaper if you were a
few years younger.”

“But I ain’t,” he said meekly.

“Okay, so you ain’t. But maybe we
can do something about it.”

A resourceful woman, Eva recalled
that one of her customers was a skilled

forger. She easily got the cooperation
of this gentleman in changing the date
of Limpy Wright’s birth, as recorded
in the big family Bible, from 1880 to
1885. Then Limpy, to whom the mean-
ing of all this was vague, recalled
something he had not thought of before.

“You see,” he explained, “before Ma
died, she had tombstones for all us kids
put in the cemetery with our birth
dates on ’em. That’s so when any of
us dies, all they got to do is put in that
date.”

“You dumb ox!” Eva yelled, enraged.
“Why didn’t you tell me about that
before? Now I gotta figure some way
out of that. I ought to slug you!”

But Little Eva was equal even to
this problem. She located a stonecutter
out of the county, paid him a bribe and
took him to the Wright family ceme-
tery at Portlandville late one night.
There, as Limpy watched, the stone-
cutter chiseled away the date 1880 and
substituted 1885.

“I feel younger already,” Limpy
chuckled as they rode home. “I’m only
49 years old now.”

“Just remember,” Eva said menac-
ingly, “this is a little secret among us.
You tell anybody and I'll break your
neck.”

m SHE NOW PROCEEDED to get four
different policies, each of them with
different companies, on the handy-
man’s life. Bearing a total value of
$9800, they all named Eva as benefi-
ciary. To (Continued on page 56)


age ven

‘lemme have a sandwich. . Be glad to

22

work for it.”

“You look familiar,”
“What’s your handle?”

“Harry Wright. But everybody calls
me Limpy. That’s because I got this
bum leg.”

“You related to Lizzie Wright over
near Portlandville?”

“She’s my ma,” Wright nodded.
“That is, she was. She died a year
ago, maybe two.”

“Well, I knew Lizzie,” Eva said.
“Come on in. I'll fix you up with
some grub.”

The poor fellow was hungry indeed,
for he gobbled up five ham sandwiches
and a slab of pie with coffee before he
announced himself as satisfied. Sub-
normal in intelligence but friendly by
nature, Limpy had been unable to find
work. He slept in barns or haystacks
and subsisted on handouts given him
by kindly farm wives.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said grate-
fully. “Now, if you got some work for
me to do, just show me to it. You
know, I ain’t a pauper, not quite. I
got $690 in the bank.”

He said this with childish pride. Eva
pricked up her ears as she always did
when money was mentioned.

“Where'd you get that, Limpy?” she
inquired curiously.

Eva - said.

“My mom left it to me when she .

died, but I ain’t spending it. I'm sav-
ing it for my old age.”

This seemed singular reasoning,
when he had been almost starving,
but Limpy Wright was not known for
logic. Eva’s broad face took on a de-
signing expression. It seemed to her
that if she played her cards right she
could wangle the $690 away from this
unfortunate mental incompetent. It
struck her also that Limpy could be
useful around the inn and would re-
quire very little in the way of wages.

“Maybe you could work for me reg-
ular, if you show a little energy,” she
suggested. “S’posing I try you out.”

To Limpy the idea of holding down
a steady job seemed a dream of wealth
and security. Eva gave him a mop and
a pail and told him to scrub the dining
room floor. Handicapped by his game
leg, he was slow but did a good job.

“I guess you'll do,” she said. “How
does five bucks a week and your board
and room sound to you?”

“Oh, thank you ma’am!” Limpy
beamed. One would have thought he
had been offered a king’s ransom.
Thus did he take over a job that
tured out to be nothing less than
slavery. All the dirty work at the
establishment went to the luckless
Wright. He did dishes, tended the
fires, hauled out ashes, cleaned floors,
tidied the yard, and tended bar during

the off hours. Aroused at 6 every
morning, he was kept busy until 2 the
following morning, a regimen that de-
prived him of sufficient sleep. Eva was
getting excellent value for her invest-
ment, but Limpy, who had had no job

‘for years, regarded himself as a lucky

fellow and held his employer in awe.

m WORKING 18 or 20 hours a day, he
prized those few hours in the after-
noon when he was allowed to tend bar
because he could catch a few winks of
sleep on a bar stool when no customers
happened to be on hand. Eva, who
had a strong streak of cruelty in her
makeup, delighted in giving him a
hot-foot on these occasions. She woilld
sneak up and light matches under the
holey soles of his shoes, and when
Limpy awoke with a yell of pain
she would burst into paroxysms of
laughter. ~

“That'll teach you not to fall asleep

kick him, but he accepted all this
without complaint and always ad-
dressed her politely as “ma’am.”

The following winter, a snappily-
dressed furnace salesman dropped in
at the Woodbine and tried to interest
Eva in a new heating plant. He had
no success saleswise at all, but he
exhibited such an engaging personality
that Eva took a shine to him and
invited him back. His name was Ab-
ner Bossert, aged 35, and he made it
a point to call again. This time Eva
was so impressed by his geniality that
she gave him drinks on the house, told
him there was a spare room upstairs
and invited him to stay. Bossert, a
bachelor whose furnace business was
anything but a gold mine, accepted
eagerly. He moved in and thereafter

he all but gave up his selling job en-
tirely, devoting most of his time to
sitting around Woodbine, drinking free
liquor and watching Limpy do the

This automobile, ostensibly bought for vacation use, was. actually

purchased for another purpose—to run down an unsuspecting man.

on the job!” she would chortle.

Far from becoming indignant at this
treatment, Limpy would manfully dis-
regard his sore foot and join in the
laughter at his own expense. To his
simple way of thinking, the glory of
having a steady job far outweighed any
inconveniences involved.

The cripple lived in a barren, two-
by-four room on the second floor,
which’ of course was better than a hay-
stack, and his meals came from table
leftovers. He spent practically noth-
ing, saving almost all of his five dollars
a week. There were times-when Eva
would curse him, slap him and even

een Bia he a SRS, Sines

oats ik cat ie las RE oh SM TS

work.

Eva let it be. known that she was
befriending both Bossert and Wright
because she felt sorry for them.
“They're had a hard time of it,” she
said virtuously, ‘and if I can help’em
out, why shouldn’t I?”

Neighbors in the area, unaware of
all the facts, began to think she had a
soft heart under her hard-boiled ‘ex-
terior. But not Mrs. Margaret Burrows,
a 27-year-old divorcee who lived at
her parents’ farm nearby and was a
regular patron at the Woodbine. Mar-
garet, who was Eva's closest friend,
knew her too well to think there was

ce ST RITE PI PE RS PTT

any philanthropy
ample innards—t
well, in fact, that
for Number One.
Eva kept Limpy

got an awful lot o!
next to nothing.

tality to Bossert b
and, as the song

. have a man arour

As for Limpy W
away night and
lolling around id
his chores. It v
would have ann:
not Limpy. He to:
ful to have a jol

But things wer:
to have profound
Limpy Wright an:
in 1933 the Volst:
and soon after th
a memory. This
pensing of liquor
now within the 1:
it meant that lic
houses were sp
countryside. No
scoflaws have 1
for a nip at the
had competition
sult her business
beating.

Formerly pros;
pull in her horn:
economize. For «

_Limpy’s salary t
a cut he took w
another, she beg:
nonproductive EF
him as a needle

One day wh:

_ warmed with liq
a new subject to

“Abner, dear,”
insurance?”

“All I got is <
replied. “Enoug!
leave this vale o

“You know t!
scolded. “You ou
than that. I got :
who sells insura
him some busin
sible and take
insurance.”

Although he «
it, he yielded t
out another $1)
double indemnit
death. “But wh
ficiary?” he ask
near relatives.”

“Why, me, o
“Ain’t I the be
this earth?”

“Sure, sure,”
had a few more
was amenable

occurred to sus)

a

openers ee

tunity knocking when Captain Sumner
visited the place. Sumner had a fortune
which he had willed to Annie. All
Annie had to do was poison her brother
and the money would be hers—or Patt-
more’s. Pattmore had used his hypnotic
ability to the utmost. He had persuaded
her to attempt the poisoning. Now that
she was well away from the politician’s
spell, she was sorry about the whole
business and couldn’t imagine how she
could have fallen for such a proposi-
tion. She could see now that Pattmore
was a throughgoing villain as well as
a murderer.

Captain Sumner lost no time in tak-

Limpy, who was simply obeying orders
and had only a feeble understanding of
what was going on, the fact that he
was insured for almost $10,000 was as-
tonishing.

“Never knew I was that important,”
he said. “Why, I’m worth a small for-
tune.”

He was—dead—but that never oc-
curred to him.

For flinty-hearted Eva, the next
question before the house was which
of her intended victims to get rid of
first, Bossert or Wright. She was un-
wise enough to discuss this with a
woman friend over highballs. After
giving the matter some thought, the
woman felt it would be best to make
Bossert No. 1 on the murder list.

“Limpy’s got sawdust where his
brains oughta be,” she pointed out. “He
won’t suspect anything if you bump off
Bossert and collect his insurance. But
Bossert’s smart. If you get rid of Limpy
first, Bossert’s going to start adding
two and two.”

Eva had to admit that she had a point.
Yet she was more favorable to the idea
of murdering Limpy first, since he
would be easy to deceive and had the
heaviest insurance. Furthermore, it was
her intention to get Abner Bossert to
aid in dispatching Limpy. Later, on
the theory that dead men tell no tales,
Bossert would follow the handyman
into oblivion.

“Abner won’t dream the same thing’s
cookin’ for him,” she reasoned. “For
one thing, he thinks I’m gone on his
handsome profile. For another, he’s too

busy drinking my liquor to keep his ©

brains in good working order.”

A few days later, early in June of
1934, Little Eva sat down with Bossert
to a good steak dinner she had had the
chef prepare, and broached the propo-
sition in low tones.

“Tv’ll be.a cinch, Abner, dear,” she
said. “You know how dumb Limpy is.

56

ing his confused ‘sister. to Pinkerton,
who whipped her story into an affidavit.
Three days later he took a train to
Greenville, figuring that by this time
the autopsy report should be in.

It was. Mrs. Pattmore’s body was full
of arsenic, and the whole town was
agog. Even the coroner now admitted
that the Republicans ‘could not be re-
sponsible for this. Alonzo Pattmore was
in jail, charged with murder. A canny
fellow who overlooked no angles, his
wife had been heavily insured and he
had collected handsomely.

But even in his ignominy, Pattmore
still had a few political friends. When’

EVA WAS NO LADY

(Continued from page 23)

All I need is a little help from you, and
you'll get part of the profits.”
It was apparent that Bossert at first

_thought she was joking. When he be-

came convinced that she was serious,
he was shocked.

“Listen, Eya, what you're talking
about is first degree murder,” he said.

“Tn this state they got the electric chair,

for that.”

“Only for those who get caught,” she
corrected. “Don’t be such a stick-in-
the-mud, Abner. Poor Limpy’s a half-
wit, and lame to boot. When you think
of that, it’s really a merciful thing to
put him out of his misery. Besides,
there’s almost ten grand in it for you
and me. We could have a lot of fun
together on that.”

“J don’t want to have anything to-do
with it,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t be
able to sleep nights if I did. Take my
advice and drop the whole idea. You'll
live longer.”

At length she saw that wheedling
would not budge him. “All right, dear-
ie,” she said. “Maybe I'll give up the
idea. Anyway, you just act as if you
never heard about it.”

Inwardly she was furious at Bossert,
for she had been counting on his help
in executing a plot which she had al-
ready laid out. It was her plan to make
it appear that Limpy had been struck
and killed by a hit-run driver, but she

could not do it alone. She next put the .

proposition to her good friend Mar-
garet Burrows. After considerable per-
suasion, Mrs. Burrows agreed to help
put Limpy out of his misery.

m GETTING READY for the zero
hour, Mrs. Burrows went to. Oneonta
with money furnished by Eva and
bought a big, second-hand four-door
sedan. On the evening of June 14, the
two women entered the Woodbine Inn
to find Limpy Wright industriously
cleaning the tables.

\

he came to trial, the prosecutor was
remarkably gentle in his treatment of
the accused man, forgetting to bring out
many of the nastiest points against him.
The result was a weird verdict for the
man who either should have been ac-

- quitted or hanged. He was given a

ten-year sentence in prison, which at
any rate kept him out of Congress.
And Captain Sumner at last per-
suaded his sister Annie to go back with
him to the old homestead in Massachu-
setts. The captain figured that from

-then on he was safe, and that Annie

would never again slip him beer fla-
vored with arsenic.

“You been working hard all day,”
Little Eva said with a show of affection.
“Wash your face now and put on your
glad rags. We'll take you for a ride up
on Crumhorn Mountain.”

“Gee, that’s swell,” Limpy replied,
feeling much like a commoner invited
to ride with the queen.

He took off his apron and donned a
white shirt and a threadbare jacket. It
was 6:30 p.m. when he climbed into the
car and it rolled off with Margaret
Burrows at the wheel and Eva beside
her. Business was light that evening,
and Bossert had gone to town, so Eva
had locked up the place and left a sign,
“Will be back at 9.”

It was shortly after 9 when Eva and
Margaret returned in the car, without
Limpy. They found Fred Palmer, a
farmhand and an occasional patron,
waiting at the door.

‘“T saw your sign,” Palmer said, “so
I figured I’d wait for you.”

“Well, here we are,” Eva grinned.
Then her broad face took on an ex-
pression of anxiety. “Say, you ain’t
seen Limpy anywhere around, have
you?”

“Nope, not since I been here.”

“What could’ve happened to him?”
Eva muttered.

About 11 o’clock that Thursday night
Eva telephoned the state police post at
the nearby village of Schenevus.

“You heard anything about my handy
man, Limpy Wright?” she inquired.

The desk man said he had not.

“Well, I’m worried about him,” she
went on. “He left here at 7 to see about
a painting job over at Frank Apple-
ton’s place. He hasn’t come back. I
called Frank and he didn’t show.up
there. You know, Limpy ain’t too
bright in the upper story. I wish you’d
look around and see if you can find
him.”

Trooper William Caldwell left in a
state police car and began touring the

roads in the vi
farm, not far f
tain. Shortly aft
‘man’s crumplec
ditch. It was ]
was dead. It s:
had been struck
hurled into the
fleeing from the
taken to the *
establishment, <
fied by telepho:

“Poor, dear |
always warned
dark roads, but
minded he was

‘She hurried t
lor, where she «
a handkerchie
broken body. *
gets a nice bu
the expenses.”

But it was
burial” she did
necessarily lavi
paugh, the prc
mahogany coffir
murred. She fin
er article at $1:

Meanwhile, S
ell had arrived,
Caldwell and
what was at fh
routine examin
honor of the oc
his lone clean
front of it, Mi:
etched the mar

“This is a |
frowning. “It 1
over not once

“T suppose i
suggested, “the
one car, and tl}
he still lay in :

Sheriff Mitc!
Caldwell. “Whe
he asked.

“In the ditch
say it was a ;
edge of the ro

Mitchell sho
ment. “Mighty
hit by a car <
side, or you get
road. Not both

After some
gators agreed
seemed to hav
county corone
had suffered
fractured skul
sustained abou
was under way
handyman was
er in the Po
state police ph
of the tire m
shirt. Sheriff 1
went alorig wi
the spot where
make a better «


ssecutor was
treatment of
: to bring out
against him.
rdict for the
ave been ac-
was given a
on, which at
Congress.

at last per-
go back with
in Massachu-
ed that from
id that Annie
him beer fla-

hard all day,”
ow of affection.
ad put on your
u for a ride up
»

Limpy replied,
nmoner invited

, and donned a
dbare jacket. It
slimbed into the

with Margaret
and Eva beside
it that evening,
to town, so Eva
> and left a sign,

9 when Eva and
the car, without
Fred Palmer, a
‘easional patron,

Palmer said, “so
you.”

a,” Eva grinned.
took on an ex-
“Say, you ain't
re around, have

been here.”
ppened to him?”

at Thursday night
tate police post at
' Schenevus.

ig about my handy
” she inquired.

1 he had not.

j about him,” she
‘e at 7 to see about
at Frank Apple-
sn’t come back. I
ie didn’t show -up
_ Limpy ain’t too
story. I wish you’d
se if you can find

Caldwell left in a
began touring the

~ ee

eS renter Scene

ee

roads in the vicinity of the Appleton
farm, not far from Crumhorn Moun-
tain. Shortly after midnight he found a

‘man’s crumpled body in a roadside

ditch. It was Limpy Wright, and. he
was dead. It seemed. obvious that, he
had been struck by a speeding car and
hurled into the ditch, the driver then
fleeing from the scene. The body was
taken to the Tillepaugh undertaking
establishment, and Eva Coo was noti-
fied by telephone.

“Poor, dear Limpy!” she wailed. “I
always warned him to be careful on
dark roads, but you know how absent-
minded he was!”

-She hurried to the undertaking par-
lor, where she dabbed at her eyes with
a handkerchief as she viewed the
broken body. “I want to see that he

gets a nice burial,” ‘she said. “Ill pay.

the expenses.”

But it was clear that by a “nice °

burial” she did not mean anything un-
necessarily lavish. When Harry Tille-
paugh, the proprietor, showed her a
mahogany coffin priced at $225, she de-
murred. She finally settled for a plain-
er article at $125.

Meanwhile, Sheriff George H. Mitch-
ell had arrived, and along with Trooper
Caldwell and other officers he made
what was at first thought would be a
routine examination of the corpse. In
honor of the occasion, Limpy had worn
his lone clean white shirt. Across the
front of it, Mitchell could see clearly
etched the marks of tire treads.

“This is a queer thing,” he said,
frowning. “It looks as if he was run
over not once but twice.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” a deputy
suggested, “that he was run over by
one car, and then later by another as
he still lay in the road.”

Sheriff Mitchell turned to Trooper
Caldwell. “Where’d you find the body?”
he asked.

“In the ditch,” Caldwell replied. “I'd
say it was a good ten feet from the
edge of the road.”

Mitchell shook his head in puzzle-
ment. “Mighty queer. Either you get
hit by a car and bounced off to the
side, or you get run over and left in the
road. Not both.”

After some discussion the investi-
gators agreed that the hit-run theory
seemed to have. some leaks in it. The
county coroner reported that Wright
had suffered many broken bones, a
fractured skull and internal injuries,
sustained about 8 P.M. A quiet probe
was under way long before the luckless
handyman was buried beside his moth-
er in the Portlandville cemetery. A
state police photographer took pictures
of the tire marks on Limpy’s white
shirt. Sheriff Mitchell and his deputies
went alorfg with Trooper Caldwell to

the spot where the body was found, to

make a better examination by daylight.

They found tire marks on the gravel
road matching the tread design on the
shirt. However, they could find no in-
dication that the man had been struck
or run over at that point.

= SINCE LIMPY HAD LIVED and
worked at the Woodbine Inn, the in-
vestigation centered in that neighbor-
hood. Questioning of patrons and farm-
ers in the vicinity disclosed that Eva
Coo had often been cruel to the crip-
pled handyman. Fred Palmer was lo-
cated, and he told how he had waited
at the Woodbine Inn on the fatal night
until shortly after 9 o’clock, when Eva
and Margaret Burrows returned from
a drive.

“They said they’d been driving on
Crumhorn Mountain,” he recalled.

Since the coroner said death had oc-
curred around 8 o'clock, and the body
wds found not far from the mountain,
this seemed to cast some suspicion on
the two women. The sheriff was not
unaware of Little Eva’s unsavory repu-
tation, but he knew he must proceed
with caution. He felt his hunch par-
tially supported when he talked with
a girl who until recently had worked
as an entertainer at the Woodbine.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Eva
bumped off Limpy,” the girl said. “She
was awful mean to him at times, and
not long ago I heard her say she was
getting rid of him. The way she said
it—well, it didn’t sound like she meant
she was just firing him.”

Deciding to question Margaret Bur-
rows point-blank, Mitchell discovered
that the young divorcee had left in her
car on a vacation trip on the very
evening of Limpy’s death, shortly after
she and Eva returned from their drive.
Margaret had stopped in town and
spoken with a girl friend before leav-
ing, telling her that Limpy was dead.

“What time was that?” Mitchell asked
the girl. , ‘

“About 10 o’clock Thursday night.”

The sheriff started. “Are you posi-
tive of the time?”

“IT sure am, because my boy friend
picked me up a little later, at 10:30.”

That was revealing indeed. Margaret

knew at 10 that Limpy was dead, al-

though it was 11 before Eva had tele-
phoned to report him missing, and past
midnight before the body was found.
Mitchell immediately ordered the ar-
rest of Eva Coo and Margaret Bur-
rows.

Brought in to headquarters in Coop-
erstown, Little Eva not only denied
guilt but challenged her accusers to
prove anything against her, ending up
by laughing at them. The sheriff’s men
and state troopers agreed that they had
never before been confronted by such
a hard-boiled woman.

Mrs. Burrows was not picked up un-
til several hours later, when she_re-

en hk an

eu na vanes te Ueda DAR AS
See aE ET FT HCI WERNER YTS TTS PR

turned from her brief vacation tour.
Her sedan was, impounded and given
a thorough examination by technicians.
It was found that two of the tires
matched the tread ‘marks found on
Limpy’s shirt. Although the tonneau
had been scrubbed, traces of human
blood were found on the rear rug and
seat cushion. Furthermore, a check
with insurance companies disclosed
that both Limpy Wright and Abner
Bossert had recently been insured,
with Little Eva as beneficiary.

Mrs. Burrows, who at first denied
any wrongdoing, broke down when
confronted by this information.

“Eva talked me into helping her,”
she sobbed. “I should never have lis-
tened to her.”

She told how they had invited Limpy
to accompany them on a drive on
Crumhorn Mountain.

“At the abandoned Scott farm,” she
said, “the place they call the Haunted
House, we turned into the driveway.
Eva told Limpy to gather some of the
shrubs growing there, and he got out
of the car. When he bent over, she hit
him on the head with a mallet she
was carrying under her dress. He let
out a little yell and fell. Then I drove
the car over him twice.”

Little Eva then felt the handyman’s
pulse to make sure he was dead. Pick-
ing up the body, she tossed it into the
tonneau and the two women drove
down to the gravel highway. There Eva,
stronger than many men, tossed the
corpse into the ditch.

“That was the hardest day’s work I
ever did,” Eva said to Margaret as they
drove homeward. “You know, I al-
most developed a liking for that hope-
less idiot.”

m SO THE WHOLE bloodcurdling

_story was told, or at least the gist of it.

The police learned the rest when they
talked with the woman with whom Eva
had debated whether she should mur-
der Wright or Bossert first. Bossert
himself admitted that Eva had tried
to persuade him to help her do away
with Limpy.

“J didn’t think of it at the time,”
Bossert said, his eyes popping, “but
you know, if she’d been successful with
Limpy I'll bet I'd have been next on
the list. Otherwise why was she so
anxious for me to take out insurance?”

An investigation of Eva’s past life
disclosed that she had come from a
farm home near Spokane, Wash., had
studied nursing but failed the course.
She then married William Coo, a rail-
road worker—not for love, as she later
admitted to friends, but because she
reasoned that being a housewife was
much easier than taking a job. Su-
premely lazy, she kept such a slovenly
house that her husband divorced her.
It was then that she drifted east to open

bf


1 was now on an
equal footing with
the other girls—and
all set for the most
soul-searing expert-
ence of my. life.

They seated
themselves in the
same booth occu-
pied by the couple
that had just en-
tered. A minute
went by and the
girl left.

The next thing I
knew the slim man
was standing alongside of
our booth. There was a heavy
revolver in his hand.

“Climb out,” he said grim- Be ent

ly. “This is a stickup.”

I was so shocked I couldn’t
move. It didn’t seem real.
I guess I didn’t move fast
enough for him because he
reached out and pulled me
roughly to my feet.

Harry went for him. It
didn’t matter that he had a gun. He
let fly a right. The gunman ducked
and the blow passed harmlessly
over his head. The robber smashed
down with the barrel of his gun
and it caught Harry on the side of
the head. He staggered back, blood
spurting from a gash in his scalp.

I could see Harry tense himself
for another leap.

“No, no. Please do what he says;
he’ll kill you!” I screamed.

There were ten people in the place
and we were all herded into the
back. Here, the short, dark man
who had come in with the girl
made us take off our jewelry and
put all our money on the table. He
scooped this into a canvas sack.

The tall thug, who had hit Harry
over the head and who was evi-
dently the leader, stood in the mid-
dle of the restaurant. Covering the
door was the third thug.

While all this was taking place,
Patrolman Bernard Sherry of the
15th Precinct happened to be pass-
ing by on his way home. He had just
finished the 4 Pp. M. to 12 midnight
shift and was now dressed in civil-
ian clothing. He saw a taxi cab, its
motor idling, in front of the restau-
rant. It looked suspicious to him
and he crossed the street. He stuck
his head into the rear window of
the cab. There were two women

6

sitting there, both about 20 years
old. One was a blonde dressed in
a rather flashy way while her com-
panion was a dark, pretty girl whose
thin lips were clamped nervously
over a lighted cigarette. In the front
seat the driver was slouched down
in his seat behind the steering
wheel.

The brunette regarded Sherry
coolly for a moment and turned
wordlessly toward her companion.
The officer withdrew his head,
walked into the restaurant. A gun
was jammed into his side.

“Stick ’em up or you're a corpse,”
a voice hissed.

Now the officer could see the ten
men “and women who were lined
up, facing the wall, arms thrust in
the air. On the table lay the collec-
tion of watches, jewelry and cur-
rency. Behind the bar the cash reg-
ister was still open, but the robbers

had not as yet had time to rifle the
compartments.

Sherry stood tensely for a mo-
ment. The thin-lipped leader
moved toward him.

“Come on, feller, up with those
hands!” he growled, waving the re-
volver.

Sherry acted instantly. His right
hand flew to his hip pocket, but be-
fore it could close on the butt of his
service revolver, two guns cracked.
There was a roar and a burst of
flame. One of the slugs ripped
through the officer’s abdomen, hit
a rib and richocheted back into his
intestines. The brave cop staggered
back a few feet, fell off balance and
hit the door.

I screamed in terror.

The officer was rising unsteadily

- tohis feet. Now his service revolver
was in his right hand.

The gunman, who was covering

DETECTIVES GEORG
BOYLE, standing,
Corbellini, the gang)

PROSECUTOR

O'BRIEN: Under hb
questioning, Alfre
was trapped into <
confession, but he
reveal the name of hi

PATROLMAN BE
SHERRY: Although
wounded, he tro:

deadly rat


and we were what we considered comfortably rich.

I was only nineteen years old, but I knew my own
mind. Harry was five years older, dark and handsome
in a masculine sort of way. All the good things in the
world for me began and ended in him.

We celebrated the raise in salary by going to a
moving picture show. The picture we saw was James
Cagney in Public Enemy. It was the story of a gang-
ster’s rise and fall. One scene comes back to me now.
The crook, played by James Cagney, was taken for
a ride and his body propped up against the door of his
mother’s house. The killers knock on the door and
run away. When the mother throws open the door her
dead son falls into her arms. At the time I saw it, it
was just movie stuff—the kind of thing that happens
only in pictures. Little did I dream that I would soon
play a part in a real life drama, far more terrible than
what I had just seen flashed on the screen.

HERE was an Italian restaurant down the street
that stayed open late. It had a funny name—The.
Cave.

“How about a cup of coffee?’’ Harry asked.

“Sure,” I agreed.

The restaurant was an unpretentious one with semi-
private booths lining the wall on the left. On the right
a long bar extended two-thirds of the way to the back.
In the rear there were more booths and an entrance
to the kitchen.

We asked for sandwiches and coffee, and as the waiter
turned to fill the order, the front door opened and a
couple entered. The girl had jet black hair, flashing
eyes and a pair of lips that were rouged in a hard line.
The red and black dress she wore was a little too tight.
Her companion wasn’t any taller than she was, stocky,
with a swarthy countenance. They took seats in the
adjoining booth.

A minute later, the door opened once more and two
men entered. One was tall, slim, dark-haired, thin-
lipped with a pair of shifty eyes that darted suspiciously
about him. His companion was a bit shorter.


eT

CORBELLINI, Alfred ¢ COZZI, Alfeedm whites, elec. NYSP |INew York)
July 15, 1932.

RISKING HER ALL A COURAGEOUS NEW YORK GIRL
INVEIGLES AN AMOROUS MOBSTER INTO THE
ARMS OF THE LAW AND JUST RETRIBUTION

ARRY died three weeks ago.
He died the way he had
lived—a hero. There wasn't
even a line in the newspapers about
it. I guess that was because a long
time passed between his brave act
and his death, and in that space of
time most people forgot.

I‘ll never forget. The memory of
what happened that fateful night—
and the nightmare existence that
was mine in the terrible days that
followed—is engraved in my con-
sciousness as though it had been
stamped there with a red hot iron.

I sent two men to their doom. I
put them in the deathhouse in Sing
Sing Prison. Though I wasn’t there
they knew: that it was I who was
strapping them tight.

It was Robert Elliott, the lanky
executioner, who threw the switch
that sent the high current of elec-
tricity that meant sudden death
coursing through their bodies, They
must have known in that awful
moment before their fate overtook
them that it was my avenging hand
that did it.

All this may sound hard and cold-
blooded coming from a girl, but
when you’ve read the rest of the
story you'll understand that I had to
do what I did—why I couldn’t rest
until justice was done.

It was exactly ten years ago from
the day this is written—May 2nd,
1941—that it happened.

It was just past midnight and
Harry Jamieson and I were walk-
ing down Third Avenue. During
the day this is a busy thoroughfare,

and wet were
I was only ;
mind. Harry
' in a masculine
wal world for me bi
| We celebrate
5] moving picture
Cagney in Publ:
ster’s rise and f:
The crook, play
a ride and his b.
mother’s house
run away. Whe
dead son falls i:
was just movie
only in pictures
play a part in a
what I had just s

4

‘The robber smashed down with the bar-
rel of his gun and it caught Harry a
terrific blow on the side of the head.

but now it was fairly well deserted HERE was
and cloaked in deep shadows. The that stayed 0;
elevated structure overhead cast Cave.

“How about a c

spidery shadows over the sidewalks.

I clung to Harry’s arm and my
head was light with joy. There was
so much happiness in me that I won-
dered how my small body could
contain it all. Harry had just gotten
a raise and it meant that now we
could get married. He had a good
job and an even better future. Add
that to my own salary as stenog-
rapher in a large insurance company

“Sure,” I agree:

The restaurant
private booths lin
a long bar extend:
In the rear there
to the kitchen.

We asked for sar
turned to fill the
couple entered. 1
eyes and a pair of
The red and black
Her companion wa
with a swarthy c
i : : adjoining booth
[ tried, to stop: him. "Please, : , sm woth ¢ fn etee

don't hc Maaaleldel " . men entered. On:

lipped with a pair o

about him. His co:


98

“Here, take it easy. No one is going
to hurt you.”

He led her off the dance floor, signalled
Mullarney and Golemboski and walked
into the street.

“You'd better tell me all you know
about the affair,” he said sharply.

“TI don’t know what you're talking
about,” Tessie cried wildly.

“You know that a patrolman was shot
to death by Pete Gugliemetti, Fred Cozzi,
and another fellow. I want his name.”

“But I don’t know him,” she sobbed.

“You know, there were two girls mixed
up in the killing,” Hogan said. ;

Tessie stared in fright at the detective.
“You can’t pin that on me,” she cried. “I
was in the dance hall all that night. I
danced with fifty different people. I can
prove it!”

“Nobody is trying to pin it on you,”
Hogan said easily. “If you are as in-
nocent as you protest you are, it will

cause you no harm to tell what you know

about the affair.”

“All right,” she replied at length. “The
fellow you’re looking for is Fred. I don’t
know his last name.”

“What did he look like?”

Tessie described him. “He was sort of
thin, with a pair of small eyes, long nose,
and thin lips, very close together.”

HIS description tallied with the leader
Té the band of killers.

“Where is he hiding now?” Hogan
asked.

“T don’t know.”

“You're lying,” Hogan retorted sharply.
“Out with it!) Where is he hiding?”

But Tessie continued to plead ignorance.
She was brought down to the’ Precinct
station where Lieutenant Sullivan and a
squad of officers took turns questioning
her. The following morning her resist-
ance weakened.

“All right,” she said. “I'll tell all I
know. But I want you to keep my name
out of this.” ? ;

“That’s a promise,” Lieutenant Sulli-
van replied. “Where is he?”

“T told you before that I didn’t know,”
she flashed. “And it’s true. But I can
point out a man to you who does know
where he is.” :

That evening she sat between Hogan
and Mullarney, while Golemboski drove
slowly around the corner at One Hundred
and Fifth Street and Third Avenue. Sud-
denly Tessie pointed a finger out of the
car window.

“There he is!” she exclaimed. Her fin-
ger pointed toward a squat, dark man.
Hogan slipped out of the’car, and it drove
away. Tessie was warned to keep quiet
about the case, and she was released. The
officers drove back to where Hogan stood.

For the next three days, the mysterious
stranger was followed by a detective
wherever he went. But in all that time
he managed to stay away from the fu-
gitive. Trailing him appeared to be a
waste of time.

I had asked that the case be cleared
up in a week. These men were deter-
mined to-do it. Thus; on .May 9th, just
seven days after the brutal: slaying, the
officials descended upon the man they
were trailing.

A car had been parked alongside the
curb on One Hundred and Fifth Street
between Second and Third Avenues. In
it were four men and a woman. The
short, squat man was about to enter

when he was arrested. He was brought to .
the One Hundred and Fourth Street .
Police Precinct and questioned. The |

five occupants of the car were. also

True Detective Mysteries

brought in, but were held in a different
room.

The man, whose name I shall not re-
veal for reasons which will) become ob-
vious, appeared sullen.

“What did you get into that car for?”
Hogan shot at him.

The man became flustered and said:
“Really, I don’t know these people. I
had just asked them to give me a lift to
the Fort Lee Ferry.” .

“For what purpose?”

“I wanted to go to New Jersey,” was
the nervous reply.

“You’ve got some nerve getting into a
stranger’s car and asking them to drive
yéu places,” Hogan scolded. “Besides
that, you’re not telling the truth.”

Hogan brought in the woman who had
been in the car. Her name she said, was
“Zaza.”

“Do you know this’ man?” he asked.

“Zaza” laughed. “Of course I do, he’s
my _ boy-friend.”

The other passengers also knew him.

“When did you see Fred last?” Hogan
shot at him.

At first he looked surprised, then he
said: “Fred Corbellini?”

“You know very well who I mean!”

“The day before the shooting,” the man
replied in a subdued voice.

Here, then, was the name‘of the leader
of the killers!

For two hours he shot question after
question at the man. Suddenly the latter
cried: “All right. You win. Just keep me
out of this and I’ll tell you where he is.

»

-

I don’t want to wake up dead in some '

dark gutter.”

“That’s more like it,” Hogan told him
grimly. “Where is he?”

“He’s in a boarding house at 456 Mid-
land Avenue, in Garfield, New Jersey.”

He said he had discovered this when
Corbellini called a candy store in which
he had his hang-out, and asked him to
pass the word along to his family.

Hogan reported to Lieutenant Sullivan.
“Good work, John,” Sullivan said quietly.
“We'll nab him in the morning.”

Sullivan gathered Detectives DiMar-
isco, Hogan, Mullarney, Kiechlan, Golem-
boski, and Mulligan. Together they got
into three police cars and drove to Gar-
field. They reported to the chief of
police of that city, and with three men
tad the local force, surrounded the
ouse.

T was 6 a. M. when Sullivan knocked
on the front door, The landlord opened
it.

Lieutenant Walter Sullivan, one of
the first to rush to the assistance of
Officer Sherry

May 1936

‘Do you have a fellow named Fred
Corbellini stopping here?” he asked softly.

“No, sir,” was the response. “Nobody
by that name.”

Hogan described the man. “Oh, him,”
the landlord replied. “His name is Rossi.
He came here on May 2nd.”

“Where is his room?” Hogan asked,
flashing his shield.

“The last door on the left, on this
floor.”

‘With drawn guns, Sullivan and Hogan
walked to the door. Hogan flipped it
open and stepped in quickly. Corbellini
lay in his bed, his mouth slightly parted,
a musical snore coming from it.

Hogan walked to the bed and stirred
him with the barrel of his revolver. “Get
up!” he cried sharply.

Corbellini stirred uneasily, muttered a
soft curse, and opened his eyes. When
he saw the officers, he shot upright.

“Hey,” he cried. “What’s the big idea?”

“Get dressed!” The gun punctuated the
order.

“All right,” the man grumbled. “But
you're making a big mistake. My name
is Frank Rossi.”

“Never mind. that,” Sullivan said. “Just
keep your mouth shut and come along.”
In his hand he held clippings from var-
ious New York City papers reporting the
crime. They were the only newspaper
clippings to be found in the room.

HEN Corbellini was returned to

New York City to be questioned by
me, he had lost all desire to lie about his
identity. Elinor O’Malley and the taxi-
cab driver pointed the finger unerringly
at him.

I took him to the scene of the crime
and he re-enacted the entire killing.

After he had signed a full confession I
asked him for the names of the women
who had been used as decoys.

“T don’t know them,” he said. “You
better ask Pete about it. They were his
friends.” ~

I persisted in the questioning and he
said peevishly, “What do you think—I
want to see women go to the chair?”

In_his confession he revealed that he
led Gugliemetti and Cozzi into more than
a dozen armed hold-ups on crap games.
On the night of the murder they had been
given a tip that a boarding house was ripe
for a “rolling.” Picking up the two girl
friends to act as the lures, they went to
the house. It happened that it was va-
cant. Disappointed, they walked along
the street looking for a likely place. Pete,
he claimed, picked the “Cave.” ;

On December 9th I brought the killers
to trial before General Sessions Judge
Freschi. The defendants had an impos-
ing array of defense counsel. There was
former Assemblyman Frank R. Galgano,
former United States Attorney Robert E.
Manly, John D. Lindsay, and J. S. Cohen.

The trial lasted fourteen. days. Then
the jury retired and after a four hour
deliberation, found the defendants guilty
of murder in the first degree. Judge
Freschi sentenced them to death in the
electric chair.

On April 25th, 1932, the Court of Ap-
peals upheld the verdict and set the
date for electrocution at the week of
July 11th. On July 8th President Frank-
lin D. Roosevelt, then Governor of New
York, heard pleas for clemency and re-
fused to act.

On the 14th, the two men marched
down the short corridor in the death house
to the electric chair: Up to the very end
they had been asked to reveal the names
of the blonde and the brunette who had
aided in the murder. But.they went to
their doom, locking in their breasts for-
ever the mystery of the feminine decoys.


INCE the break-up of the once pow-
erful New York and Lo bg rack-

et gangs, the quaint notion has per-
sisted that crime is on the wane—that
the underworld has ceased to levy, ex-
cept spasmodically, upon the public
purse,

It is true that a number of the old
rackets and their rulers are dead. But
new schemes, new crime lords, have
taken their places. In New York City
alone, for example, a gambling racket
is said to yield a yearly “take” of $500,-
000,000.

To a lesser degree, other rackets, ex-
tortion plots, “con” games, kidnapings,
robberies, and similar criminal activities
are Pe oy Cag public in other Ameri-
can cities. No wholly accurate estimate
can be made of the national total, but
it is generally conceded that the public
pays a billion dollars a month—twelve
billion dollars a year—in tribute to the
underworld.

Crime is not dead. It has not been
crushed because a few Capones and‘Dil-
lingers have been retired from official
circulation. Crime is as rampant, as
greedy, as vicious as ever. It will con-
tinue to flourish as long as the public,
by its apathy toward law enforcement

FROM
HEADQUARTERS

.

*
this despicable racket could be crushed.
Blackmailers have greater cause to fear
exposure and publicity than their pros-

-pective victims.

FOIL PRISON BREAK

Pleading guilty to charges of at-
tempting to smuggle arms and dyna-
mite into the Kansas state penitentiary
at Lansing, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Thorn-
brugh of Ottawa were sentenced to
from one to five years as the aftermath
of an abortive jailbreak.

The plot was said to have been en-
gineered by Thornbrugh’s convict
nephew, Cecil, who was later placed in
solitary confinement. ‘

The action of the courts re-empha-
sizes the fact that criminal sympa-
thizers, whatever their motives, can ex-
pect no leniency. Harboring fugitives or
aiding in prison escapes is a crime
which should receive short shrift at
the bar of justice.

CRIME PAYS WITH DEATH

Last September Bruno Salek, 21, and
his pal, Stanley Pluzdrak, 18, both of

Readers are invited to address their letters to this
department at 529 S. 7th Street, Minneapolis, Minn.

denied clemency by the Court of Ap-
peals.

Meanwhile, special service and super-
vision of Mrs. Coo, it has been esti-
mated, has cost the state the sum of
$2,235, in addition to the expense of
food, light, clothing, medical attention
and other prison necessities.

When the evidence of guilt is as con-
clusive as the Coo case seems to indi-
cate, this somehow seems to us to be
setting an unusually high premium up-
on murder,

KILLER IS INSANE

Because he feared that his children
showed signs of inheriting his insanity,

William J. Gardner, Chicago bank tel- .

ler, fatally shot his beautiful daughter,
Rita Jane, 20; his son.
Donald, 14; and serious-
ly wounded another son
Kenneth, 17, in thei |P}
home at La Grangc |)
Park, Ill., before the |i
latter overpowered him
Questioned by offi-
cials, Gardner was said
to have explained, “I

‘ i isi i was doing them a kind- Rita Jane

Deoemh iaeily chores ta grow. Strom aan ne ew Se a aaa Eye MERTON
Salek idered himself “wise then went on: to cite examples of in- r .
SMASH BLACKMAIL RACKET gu He had done a stretch at Elmire, sanity in his family. Examination proved oa Stipe
; bedi e knew the ropes, disdained work, felt at his self diagnosis was correct an —, *
Mrs, Geowge U- Harri beauitgl New Mec04ld outsmart the police, "0 he wag committed’ to's’ hospital at | vestigati
York social leader rod He alt xed Suddenly he was stopped | Buffalo Menard. , eight 5 {
ddath ‘blow "i a Police Lieutenant George H. Uhl for a Gardner’s case offers strong argu- Oumds: x)
blaskn fre et ho new minor traffic violation. Driving a “hot” ments both for birth control and pre- apg bon
A a q ar hot car, Salek became panicky, shot and marital examinations. If nation-wide 70> of cme
hg a va 0- killed the officer, statutes were in effect which would pa " ager
ereph, Re ae % “7 Picked up later, the pair were tried probe both the physical fitness and the player, tr:
a nude body, was pre- £0r murder, found guilty and sentenced antecedents of bot parties to the mar- lg gh
Song * thy’ Pon Ft, ai to the chair. Facing death, both plead- riage contract, such tragedies might be apparentl;
pte A p i was mailed 4 a" they meray os Erg yeh ge avoided. drinker. F

if A : one. But it was too late. The chair an .

Teidcie chains ah. the dend ‘wagons. anise willie DRAFT DODGER BERGDOLL 15
Mrs. Geo. U. less $5,000 er i forth- The “wise guys” never get away with ‘ . (
Harris peewee mg it. Crime only pays with disgrace and Accompanied by her four small chil- W located
Instead of vesbe ge asothers death! dren, Mrs. Grover Cleveland Bergdoll, H cate 3
have: pods Mrs. arris notified police wife of America’s most notorious draft nid lip

who laid a trap for the men and cap- | HIGH MURDER PREMIUM evader, recently arrived in this coun-

tured six suspects who face possible-

terms of 15 years in prison.
Mrs. Harris’ plucky and decisive ac-
« tion deserves commendation. If other
blackmail victims displayed a similar
courage in exposing extortion plots,

Sentenced to die for the insurance
murder of her crippled handyman, Har-
ry Wright, in the Allegheny foothills
near Oneonta, N. Y., last June, road-
house operator Eva Coo was recently

try to ask that charges be dropped
against her husband.

Attorney General Cummings has in-
dicated that Bergdoll’s plea will be re-
fused, according to unofficial reports.
Any other action is unthinkable. -

DARING DETECTIVE’S ANTI-CRIME PLATFORM

troit Polic«

A

1. PAROLES—Adopt stringent legisla-
tion and supervision tending to curb
parole and pardon evils.

2. CODDLING—Tighten prison regula- 5.
tions to reduce coddling of inmates
and make jail an unpleasant place

4. GUNS—Make purchase increasingly
difficult, investigate all sales and
register both gun and owner. ;
COOPERATION — Unify country’s
manhunters with centralized nation-
al office.

and provide for dependents of men
shot in action. |
8 LAWYERS—Adopt rigorous cam- |
paign to drive lawyer - criminals |
from the courts. |
9. CODES — Establish uniform codes

RI

to be. 6. POLITICS—Take politics out of the Sa ee aeenmente. 10 08 ped

8. PUBLICITY—Strip crime and crim- Police force, making political ob- 10. TRAINING—Inaugurate a federal

r inals of false glamour in all books, struction of justice a federal offense. “crime school” for all prospective
plays and publications.

7. REWARDS — Reward officer - heroeg peace officers.

BARING Eee ECTI

f\
a

CW Qr1cg Al Let tat Ve


Darting

- ‘Sepiaaiber, 1935

Ail Fact Stories from Official Sowrcos a

wate

‘which he was convicted.

Who's
THROUGH

in America

© Bringing an end to the. murderous

careers of MURTON and IRVING
MILLEN and ABRAHAM FABER,
youths who set out to make a fortune
through banditry, the State
4 Massachusetts, on June

put the trio to death in*
1. electric chair, They
paged convicted of sla —_

6 policonee during a
robbery at Needham.

The first white woman
to be hanged in Delaware,
MRS. MAY H. CAREY,
preceded her 27-year-old son, HOWARD,
to the gallows at Sussex county jail on
June 7. They paid for the insurance mur-
der of the woman’s brother, Robert
Hitchens.

© At Huntsville, Texas, a Houston negro,
ALBERT CARR, went to the hot seat

on June 7—he criminally attacked a white

woman. :

THURMOND HARRIS, negro, sat
down in the chair at Columbia, S.C., June
7. Just before the current was switched
on, he confessed to the criminal assault for

@ FRANK ITALIANO, lias Frank

May, Brooklyn racketeer, was the tar-
get for underworld guns June 26 as he
walked in a crowded Wil-
liamsburg shopping district.

EVA COO, blonde road-
house proprietor who was’
convicted for the insurance
murder of a crippled
handyman, went to the
chair in ‘Sing Sing prison, .

Eva Coo une 27. A few minutes

‘rane
| CONTENTS
ARKANSAS’ GUN MOLL AND THE PRISON LOVE
Ta ei Miles cieltiew eRe o's ss Robert Barton 8

Murder <sliowst murder in the a. ed of this amazing girl
whose death at the hands of a coffvict guard rocked Arkansas
and the nation.

THE CHICAGO BLUEBEARD’S TEN DEAD BRIDES
cocec@eevescsven cose eeopert Faherty 14

He was a notorious lover—and a notorious poisoner. This
is the dramatic story of a man whose very touch was death!

“TRAPPING ST.. PAUL’S MURDER MASTER—

A wave of violence swept the Northwest until determined
sleuths cracked down to unmask a cold-blooded outlaw and
solve a death-chain mystery.

SEATTLE’S LOVE BANDIT. AND HIS 75 GIRL
VICTIMS .........+...+.++.++Horace Heffern 26

The amazing story of a fiendish attacker whose depredations
terrorized a city for months until police ran him to earth.

- CUT-RATE MURDER ............. .Jerry E.Cravey 30

Kansas residents were horrified at the brutality of a crime
' which sent detectives. after a ruthless death bargainer.

HARMONICA NELL—The Gun Girl Who Came Back—
ve eveccevccvcvececeseeveses RObert Sothern 36

“You. can’t keep me in prison!” declared California’s most
notorious woman jailbreaker’as she attempted to prove her
defiant statement.

KILLERS’ WOMEN—New York’s Taxi-Dance Death
Riddle ...........++.+-.++...-Karle R, Buell 40

Grim detectives crack a baffling enigma and bring two des-
perate gunmen to the chair in.Sing Sing’s death house.

THE BEARDED GIANT AND THE DOOMED WIFE—
a ekb-p 0s o oletin el Macelelie Shaw's ees SReRDert Rudiin 46

Illicit love becomes the motive in one of the most astounding
crime mysteries in the history of Virginia.

SHORT FEATURES
STRAIGHT FROM HEADQUARTERS .............. 6

The editor comments on the crime situation in America.

“PHOTO FLASHES Ge i655 oS Siiece cnc cecsesveee . 18
. The Camera Sleuth presents the latest news ereeal

DARING DETECTIVE’S SHOW-UP ............... 35

Photos and descriptions of notorious fugitives.

CLARA PHILLIPS STEPS OUT................:.: 66

VA short short story on California’s “Tiger Woman”.

ater LEONARD SCAR-
NICI, notorious New York killer-for-hire, .
sat down in the same chair,

© Ai father and son, FRANK TEMPLE,
52, and FRED ‘TEMPLE, 21, were
hanged on the same gallows at St. Thomas,
Ont., June 27. They killed a policeman
rather than face arrest for theft of. a
bicycle.

4

DARING DETECTIVE is: cialanes en by Graphic Arts Corporation at Louisville, Ky.
. -class gratis yt the Post O at Louisville, Ky., under the act of March 3,
879. sriltorial offices, G: ARE Arts Corperation, 529 South Seventh Street, ow Gi Minn.
Sti Ma NUSCRIPTS Ar D_ PHOTO MUST BE ND ADDEESS! AT Tae UTHOR’S
RIS ACCOMPANIED RETURN POSTAGE AND ADDRESSED TO. THE MINNE-
APOLIS OFFICE. Price to ont, a copy, $ $1.00 a year in the United States and possessions
Printed in: oo ‘A. Copyright 1935. rertieing forms P thay the 20th of the third month pre-
Chicago, 360 N. Michi 74
pson-Reilly, 536 S.

, a gabe if Bo roe pave tng offices: a Blas 1501 alg craven Mh
mpson- ie ae
st ‘General business offices, $29 8. 7th St., M aap

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TRUE CRIME

COO, Eva

EXPOSES, March, 1943,

WOMEN

IN THE

DEATH

HOUS

BY ALFRED WATT

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

. 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 mighf$ 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 * the end

m 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

a:

if

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


edly in contrast to her youthfully bobbed,
bleached-blond hair.

Eva’s place, Eva’s crowd, and Eva her-
self were all peculiar in that setting.
They didn’t fit. The Valley was prosper-
ous, respectable, dotted with well-kept
farms. Near-by Oneonta, with its popu-
lation of 15,000, has been called City of
the Hills. It could be called City of
Churches.

From somewhere, Eva Coo had drifted
into the Valley—lusty, strident, purpose-
ful and profane. She had been arrested
for bootlegging in Oneonta, then she had
set up this roadhouse some miles away.
Here she lived with Tommy Proctor,
Harry Wright and her pets, and sold
liquor. Almost every night her three
girl friends could be seen at the road-
house, Ann Elwood, Martha Clift, Bea
Urban. They were all fairly good-look-
ing; they had all been married. They
didn’t exactly work there; they just
helped to make up parties, and the men
guests paid Eva high prices for her
liquor. ‘ :

No wonder the church-going people
hated Eva. She was a bad influence and
a contradictory figure. She was loud-
voiced and she dominated her little
group of satellites completely, but in
their own small way they felt she was
generous. She fed and protected these
girls, and she fed and protected her
crippled handyman, Harry Wright, and
her irresponsible lover. When they were
ill she cared for them, nursed them.

The roar from the radio continued;
Baer was finishing off Carnera. Ann
Elwood made fists and punched her
knees in excitement. ‘Sock him, Max!”
Suddenly the roar died away, one voice
stood out, the heavy-weight champion-
ship title had changed hands. :

From behind her guests came Eva

Coo’s voice, faintly pleading: ‘Ann, I
wish you and Fred would drive down

past Johnson’s and Poh’s Inn and see if
you can locate Harry.”

“Okay.” Ann stood up. The fight’s
end had pleased her. ‘Come on, Fred,”
she said happily.

The two sped down the highway be-
neath the shadow of Crumhorn Moun-
tain. They were in Ann’s car. They
found the Johnson place dark, so they
stopped at Poh’s Inn and made inquiries.
No one there had seen either Harry
Wright or Tom Proctor all evening.

It was almost 11 o’clock when Ann
drove her car back into the driveway at
Woodbine Inn. Eva sat in the glider on
the side porch, her hands clenched in her
lap.

“No soap,” said ‘Ann.

Eva nodded and arose. “I think I’d
better call the troopers,” she said. “May-
be they can find him. Maybe there’s
been an accident.”

Eva went into the kitchen; the others
followed. The troopers’ nearest station
was at Schenevus, a near-by village. Eva
picked up the phone and put through the
call.

“Hello?” she spoke softly. ‘This is
Eva Coo. My handyman, Harry Wright,
left here at approximately 7:30 to see
about a painting job at Johnson’s. He’s
not back and I’m worried.”

She hung up the receiver. “That was
Trooper Bill Cadwell; he’s coming right
over.” She walked to the. window again.

Trooper Cadwell drove fast; his car
brought him to Woodbine Inn in no time.
He heard Eva’s information repeated,
then left the roadhouse and drove slowly
in the direction of Oneonta. Eva stayed
in the kitchen, pacing from window to
window. Her mood of anxiety had now
been completely communicated to Ann
Elwood and Fred Palmer. They, too, felt
that perhaps something tragic had hap-
ened to Harry Wright. Suddenly Eva
stopped pacing; from down the road

came a man’s voice calling, clear and
loud. A moment later a motor throbbed
outside.

Trooper Cadwell opened the kitchen
screen door. Eva came forward.

“What is it?” she cried. “Did you find
him? Is he hurt?”

“Yes, I found him—” said Cadwell,
“several hundred yards down the road—
dead!”

“My God!” shrieked Eva. Ann ran
forward, put her hands on her friend’s
shoulders.

“He’s dead in a ditch,” said Cadwell.
“A truck or some big car must have hit
him. He’s in bad shape.”

A short time later, a little group of
investigators was standing beside the
body. The headlights of Trooper Cad-
well’s car were illuminating the scene
and Dr. Earl C. Winsor of Schenevus was
making an examination of the victim.
Mrs. Coo’s handyman lay on his back in
a shallow ditch about ten feet from the
concrete highway. There were bruises
and dried blood smudges on his face.

“T came along with my headlights
spanning the road,’ Trooper Cadwell
was saying. “I almost missed him be-
cause the grass was high.”’

Eva Coo knelt in the grass, her eyes
following Dr. Winsor’s skillful hands.

Finally the doctor stood up. ‘He died
from a crushed chest,” he said. “Ribs
smashed, and the shoulders seem to be
broken. There’s a skin crepitus (air in
the tissues), so he wasn’t killed instantly.
The car went over his chest.”

Trooper Cadwell. nodded. “It seems
strange,” he murmured, “that the car
should hit him head-on on this side of
the road. It should have hit him from
behind. But maybe the force of the first
blow whirled him around so that he fell
on his back in the car’s path.”

Eva Coo shook her head sadly and said
nothing. Cadwell stepped back to the

Sheriff Mitchell (Jeff) and Prose-
cutor Grant as they entered court-
house for the famous murder trial

(Left) Official photo of crime
‘car (arrow points to victim's
body) aaken during. reenactment

| \iaas

!
road, sna
| the light
“No sk
didn’t tr
| no broke
looks like
So it «
Dr. Wins:
cordingly
suggest a!
Eventu:z
and Har:
away.
Back i
Eva Coo
we'd bett:
Eva in a
can find
happened
| Ann st:
lack-lustr
hung lim
gone out
hard-hit,
really fon
There wa:
Many }
} put up w
} dered w!
| Wright ha
son. He
the near-!
his mothe
meager |
had had fi
had walk«
ging one ¢
motion, as
‘Alike a ba
fifty-four
something
manner t}
When V
taken hi:
where he
jobs. He
roadhouse

(Right) X
Wright we

The victim
people sat


Mountaig flanks

winding Susque- §-

»y for a short dis-

» Catskill foothills | re :

te. The Oneonta-

ay follows through |

white ribbon with
the middle.

of the cars that
ich used highway
t a neatly painted
ed Woodbine Inn.
lbox in front were
letters, EVA COO,

clock on the night
-almer, hired man
ighbor, Mrs. Clara
3s toward the road-
the inn lights were
ving about behind
s. He went around
itchen screen door
-arrots screamed at
sounding forward, a
yrner stretched and
lent she liked pets.

, a asked.
z “No,” replied Palmer, as he moved to-

~ ward the radio and pulled up a chair.
' “What’s the matter?” ‘

‘Hello,’ said Fred. “How about my
hearing that Carnera; Baer Aght, over
» your radio?”

Eva Coo nodded. She took a step for-
_ ward, smoothed her hands cea thers
~ over her enormous hips.

“ “Have you seen Harry Wright?” Eh
“T’m worried about him.”

“Pm worried,” repeated big, heavyset,
leathery, straw-blond Eva.
“Harry
pent went down to Jim Johnson’s place
around dusk to see about a paint job. He
should. have been back before now. I

Ks expected Tommy Proctor to pick him up

“jn a car and bring him back. But you

know how Proctor is. I s’pose he’s drunk

4s Oneonta, as usual.’

Eva Coo’s voice was! low, resigned.
Palmer, about to turn’ the radio dial,

S a at her understandingly. Yes, he
» knew how Tom. Proctor was.
“was Eva’s handsome, youngish lover, and

“che was, to put it bluntly, a drunkard. He ‘

By George Mitchell, Former

She went to >
the window and looked out.

Proctor””*

wontey HEE On for. one Horn: and. per-.
i

‘haps end ups n. another ithree, ¢ or four
. days dater.. ie

He had been away once, ta ‘take the
cure, but that did no’ “good, “In fact, both
Proctor and Harry Wright, Eva’s handy-
man, loved their. hard: liquor. too well.
But rough, tough, Eva was pretty patient

with them. It was just. like her, thought, -

Palmer, to. be ‘worried - _about good- -for-"
nothing Harry Wright “at this moment:

chair forward. ‘“Which’one do you like?’
he asked. “I like Baer.”

““I almost forgot’ about the fight,”> said -
Eva; and ‘her eyes went toward the win-
dow. again. “Yes, I like Baer; ‘he’s big
enough:. And don’t he hate himself?”

- Palmer chuckled. From the immense,
open-air fight bowl] on Long Island came

the faint hum of a monster crowd talk- ‘
~-ing—the hum of a ringside’ crowd, al-
“ways oddly. ‘penetrating and pulsating. °
The main event had not started, but the
“‘crowd’was' ready for anything. Big ’Eva

settled in a: chair beside,the radio, pre-.
occupied with the whereabouts of her

ant! ‘

| Grim tragedy was reenacted ee the driveway, leading to the haunted

Beanie view y (above) of the "haunted" house where
the Michie was plies by woman on opposite page

_ the radio.
Fred spun the-radio dials, pulled his. .

head.

tes

elderly, shambling, half-crippled handy-

“man... Time and again she turned to the
window. Then, as 10 o’clock approached,

Ann Elwood walked in. :

“Have you seen Harry?” was Eva’s
first question. “Did you see him stand-
ing in front of Johnson’s as you drove
by Kod
“No,” said buxom, shrownseyed Ann.
She gave her curls a shake and turned to
“How’s it coming?”

ger; a deep-throated roar came from the
radio. “Baer just climbed into the ring.”
Ann seated herself next to her hostess.

‘Do you want me to look for Harry?”
she asked.

The roadhouse proprietress shook ‘her
“Not yet,” she said in a low voice.
“We'll wait a little while longer. But I

_am worried.”

The roar from: the radio continued;

* Baer had gone ‘straight to the attack.
“Ann Elwood squealed with delight and

hunched her.shapely shoulders forward.
But Eva Coo just paced back and forth.

; Her pirong, jaw was set, a jaw so mark-

“Sh!” Palmer held up 2 warning fin—

17


ling, clear and -
motor throbbed

, ¢

road, snapped on his flashlight, played
the light along the highway.

“No skid marks,” he said. ‘That car
didn’t try hard to avoid hitting him. And
- no broken headlight lamps. But it sure
looks like a hit-and-run case.”

. So it did, and Trooper Cadwell and
Dr. Winsor made out their reports ac-
cordingly. There was no evidence to
suggest anything else. Not then. .
..-Eventually the undertaker arrived
’ and Harry Wright’s body was taken

» en m < away.
an besos pire Back in the kitchen of Woodbine Inn,

” Eva Coo faced Ann Elwood. “I guess
we'd better drive down to Oneonta,” said
Eva in a colorless voice, “and see if we
can find Tommy. I hope nothing has
happened to him.” .

of Schenevus was Ann stared at Eva. Eva’s eyes were aaa
in of the victim. lack-lustre, her usually capable hands hag eee Meee

ay on his back in | oe eS e eubers oe canbe Articles, including hat of slain

the polar as q eord-hit, thought Ann. She had been ‘man,’ were exhibits during trial
‘es on his face. really fond of that shiftless handyman.
h my headlights There was no accounting for loyalties.

Trooper Cadwell os Many people wondered why Eva Coo
t missed him be- put up with Wright, just as they won-
sh”? ; dered why she put up with Proctor.
ve grass, her eyes Wright had been an odd, mysterious per-
skillful hands. son. He had lived with his mother in
ood up. “He died the near-by town of Portlandville until

he said. “Ribs his mother’s death in 1931, earning a
alders seem to be meager living by house painting. He
in erepitus (air in had had flop ears, a simple smile, and he
4’t killed instantly. J had walked with, a shuffling gait, drag-

chest.” J ging one foot slightly. His way of loco-

ied the kitchen
forward.
|. “Did you find

said Cadwell, J
down the road— Ree

oA

Se

Eva. Ann ran
on her friend’s

a little group of
iding beside the
of Trooper Cad-
nating the scene

odded. “It seems 4 motion, as Ann Elwood expressed it, was Only. known picture
‘ed, “that the car @ “like a baby learning to walk.” He was of the battered vic-
on on this side of 4 fifty-four years old, yet there had been tim, Harry Wright

something about his trusting smile and
manner that suggested a helpless child.

When Wright’s mother died, Eva had Mi mart) ‘
taken him to live at Woodbine Inn, ”

rave hitthim from 4
he force of the first #..
und so that he fell

’s path.”
wend sadly and said where he earned his board by doing odd
epped back to the jobs. He had just finished giving the - ,

roadhouse a (Continued on page 61)

; (Right) X marks the spot where Harry
Wright was killed with an automobile

/* The victim lay dead under a car as
people sat on porch (below) chatting

(left) and Prose-
they entered court-
‘amous murder trial

ial photo of crime
points to victim's
during. reenactment

oe ~ 3 7 - oT SRG Je MOE AG RANE RA AABN BR SR

Seelert
it Mac-
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as Earl
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ms was
ut Seel-
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He had
hand, a
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used in
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has |
rotect |
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ige 58. |
!

BLOND SIREN AND THE LIMPING MAN

(Continued from page 19) new coat of
paint the day before his death.

“Let’s go,” said Eva. She and Ann went
outside and climbed into the latter’s car. As
they drove toward Oneonta, Eva stared
straight ahead, her eyes still fixed in the
trance-like stare they had carried since the
shock of discovering Harry Wright’s body.
Finally she said softly: “I’m glad I had him
put on clean underwear this morning.”

Within a few minutes the car reached
the town’s Main Street. As it slowed up,
Eva Coo poked her head out of the win-
dow, anxious eyes searching for Tom Proc-
tor.

“Try the Empire Grill,’ she whispered.
Then she put a hand on Ann’s arm. “There
he is.”

A dark figure was moving uncertainly
along the sidewalk, swaying, stopping,
reaching to the sides of buildings for sup-
port. It was after midnight, few people
were about. The car slowed up, Eva leaped
out.

“Tommy!” she called in a voice that was
hushed, tense, but penetrating.

She reached Proctor’s side, slipped her
powerful right arm deftly around his body
under the shoulders, turned him about, led
him toward the car. She literally lifted
him into the front seat and climbed in
beside him.

“Let’s get him home as quick as we can.”

Proctor was bare-headed, his eyes glazed.
As the car sped back toward the roadhouse
Eva whispered in her lover’s ear:

“Listen to me—Harry Wright’s been
killed. Run down by a car. Where have
you been all evening?”

Proctor stiffened. ‘“‘What?’ he demanded.
He tried to go on, but couldn't.

Eva shook him violently. “Wake up,”
she insisted. “I tell you Harry Wright’s
been killed. Where have you been all eve-
ning?”

Proctor didn’t seem to hear. Eva leaned
away from him and whisvered resignedly:
“It’s no use.” The resi of the drive was
made in silence. Fred Palmer was still
there as the two women helped to pilot
Proctor into the roadhouse kitchen.

Proctor stood swaying in the center
of the room, stared toward the chair
that Wright generally occupied. ‘“Where’s
Harry?” he asked thickly.

Eva planted herself before him, hands on
hips, voice suddenly strident. “I’ve been
trying to tell you,’ she cried, “he got
killed!”

“Oh.” With a tremendous effort Proctor
brought his eyes to focus directly upon the
woman before him. A peculiar, meaning
smile twisted his lips, his voice came
sharply, almost hissingly.

“You think you know so much about it!
I saw him not five minutes before he died
and five minutes after he left the house! He
did not die where he was found!”

Proctor’s words sent an electrifying chill
into the roadhouse kitchen. Ann Elwood
shook her head bewilderedly, Eva Coo’s
face turned white as paper. “My God, Tom,
do you know what you're saying?” she
whispered huskily.

She hurried to a near-by closet, returned
with a bottle of whisky, poured a stiff drink
and held it to her sweetheart’s mouth.
Proctor drank it and passed out. Eva Coo
gathered him up like a sack of meal and
carried him to a near-by bedroom.

The story of Harry Wright’s accidental
death appeared in the Oneonta Daily Star
on Saturday morning, June 16th. Yet forces
were at work slowly and inexorably to
change that story.

Wright had been just an unnoticed dere-
lict; now everything that happened con-

cerning him began to lift him first toward
local, later toward national importance.
The dark ways of crime cannot be hidden.

An autopsy, showing that most of his ribs
had been fractured and that both shoulder
blades were broken, suggested that the un-
identified death car had passed over him
both front and back. In other words, there
was the suggestion that the car had been
driven back and forth over the helpless
handyman. The wounds on his temples
also suggested that he might have been
struck by some heavy object before the car
hit him.

These were just suggestions. It is some-
times exceedingly difficult to define exactly
the cause of wounds without supporting
evidence.

So far, I had not entered the case ac-
tively. The June term of the Supreme
Court was in progress and I had been kept
busy every moment, but I had followed
developments with keen interest. I knew
that the state troopers were hunting for the
hit-and-run car and that they had met with
no success. I knew that neither Mrs. Coo
nor any of her neighbors had heard
screams or other sounds indicating an ac-
cident at the spot where Wright’s body had
been found. Mrs. Coo had told Trooper
Cadwell that she had been home all eve-

When questioned
she said, ''I'll
tell everything."

ning except for a brief visit to Poh’s Inn,
down the road, to buy cigarettes.

As a matter of routine I began checking
up on the people who lived at and fre-
quented Woodbine Inn. There was Eva
Coo herself, Tom Proctor, Martha Clift,
Bea Urban and Ann Elwood. The last three
were simply gay girls of the community;
there was nothing sinister connected with
their pasts. Proctor was supposed to have
left a wife and five children living in De-
troit, Michigan, when he came to live with
Eva Coo. He was considered weak and
convivial, never dangerous.

Eva Coo’s past was mysterious. She had
once had a husband somewhere up in
Canada, but she had left him, moved to.
Connecticut, later appearing in Oneonta.
She had become a familiar figure in the
town’s streets; she usually walked along
with manlike strides, bare-headed, wearing
a leather jacket or a sweater. Later, she
had moved to the roadhouse on the Albany
road.

Thus the general outline of Eva Coo and
her friends.

Funeral services for Harry Wright were
held on Saturday afternoon, Eva Coo mak-
ing the arrangements and paying expenses.
An insurance policy for $460 held by
Wright covered these costs.

On Monday, June 18th, the remains of
the little handyman were carted over to
his native Portlandville to be buried in the
family plot beside his mother and father.
There were four mourners: Eva Coo, Tom
Proctor, the undertaker, and an assistant.
Eva wept softly. She apparently had been
very close to her handyman, for her name
was carved on the family gravestone be-
neath the names of the various Wrights.

Before the burial, I had communicated
some suspicions of Wright’s death I was
harboring to the Otsego County District
Attorney, Donald H. Grant, and had re-
ceived his quick and hearty assurance that

he would back me up in any investigation.
At the moment there didn’t seem to be
much to investigate, but on Monday morn-
ing something happened.

A woman called Trooper Cadwell from
Milford, near Portlandville, and told him
she had important information. When the
trooper arrived at the given address, a
pleasant-faced woman opened the door.

“You’re Mrs. Eva Fink?” Cadwell asked.

The woman beckoned him inside. “I am,”
she said. “I want to tell you something. I
happened to read in the paper how Mrs.
Coo said she had been home all the eve-
ning Harry Wright was killed, except for
a short drive to buy cigarettes. I want to
tell you she wasn’t home.”

Then she told an astounding story, at the
conclusion of which Cadwell used her
phone to reach me and explained the situa-
tion briefly. I asked him to bring Mrs.
Fink over to my Cooperstown office. With-
out waiting for her, I called a car and with
three of my deputies sped toward the Eva
Coo roadouse. We found Woodbine Inn
locked up. Eva was evidently still away at
Harry Wright’s burial services.

“Let’s talk to some of the neighbors while
we’re waiting,” I said to one of my assis-
tants, Under-sheriff Brady. “They may
have some ideas.”

The first stop Brady and I made was at
the home of Mrs. Clara Meyers, Eva Coo’s
nearest neighbor. We interviewed Fred
Palmer, the hired man.

“Did you see Mrs. Coo the night Harry
Wright died?” I began.

Fred scratched his head. “Yes, I saw her.
I was over at her house most of the eve-
ning, listening to the fight.”

“She was there all evening?”

“No,” Fred answered. ‘When I went
over the first time at 7 o’clock she wasn’t
there. But the lights were on. However,
when I returned after 9 o'clock, she was
there. I stayed until after Wright’s body
was found, and until after Eva and Ann
Elwood brought Tom Proctor back from
Oneonta. He was drunk.”

Fred Palmer hesitated and stared at me
with troubled eyes. “I always liked Eva
Coo,” he said finally. ‘Well, I’ll tell you.
She came over here next morning and
asked Mrs. Meyers and me to help her out.
She said if anybody inquired where she
was on the evening of. June 14th, to say
she was home. She seemed worried. She
said she thought there might be trouble
over Harry Wright’s death.”

W. realized that this information was
important, and thanked him for his coop-
eration.

As Brady and I hurried back to Wood-
bine Inn, a car hummed down the highway
and swung into the drive. Eva Coo and
Tom Proctor stepped out.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” was Eva’s cool
greeting. “We’ve just come from the
cemetery.”

I waited a moment, then said gravely,
“Mrs. Coo, we’d like you to run over with
us to Cooperstown. We have a few ques-
tions we’d like answered.”

“All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go now.”

She stepped back into her car and we
put Proctor into a separate car. We reached
Cooperstown—it’s only twenty miles from
Eva’s place—in a short time. I had Proctor
shunted off alone to a room in the court-
house while I ushered Mrs. Coo into my
office. Then Mrs. Fink was brought in.

If Eva was bothered by seeing Mrs. Fink
she didn’t show it. Her blue eyes were wide
and staring, her hands lay relaxed in her
lap. I turned to Mrs. Fink.

“Please relate the details you told
Trooper Cadwell,” I said.

“T will,” Mrs. Fink nodded vigorously.

61

TECTIVE

recommenced

he Scott
- herself
ing.
nt, and
nals of
broken
clothes,
‘s hearse
lf in the

o happy
iced it in
‘or both
d it had

he occa-
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isitive to
officials
* who had
f human

iey hada
” ele, to
of im-
iption, in
had been
lot, with
‘dubious
ned her

, he

poor |

would strip her of that immunity, and
Rosa prudently decided to level. She then
told what later was to be substantiated as
the truth of the matter.

Rosa now said that on the way to the
haunted house on the mountain, Eva had
made Harry Wright crouch down in the
car because she said they were going to
swipe the shrubs and that Harry, who
would be doing the digging, must not let
himself be seen.

Eva, according to Rosa’s latest story,
had brought along her mallet, and she had
saved the gray.cloth cap, which someone
had left at the inn, for this very emergen-
cy. Eva had assured Rosa that planting
the gray cap near the body would add a
touch of mystery and suggest masculine
participation in the “accident” that claim-
ed ‘Harry’s life.

When they were in the driveway of the
haunted house, the informant went on,
Eva contrived to walk the limping Harry
directly into the path of ‘the sedan. Rosa
insisted that once she had started the car
she grew too nervous to stop or slow
down. ‘Harry, however, sensing his
danger, whirled and tried to dart to safety

_out of the path of the oncoming car.

Eva was prepared for just such a con-
tingency. She had brought the mallet, and
now, swinging it in a vicious arc, she »
brought it down on Harry’s temple;
knocking him right in front of the
onrushing car.

Rosa drove on, turned around behind
the house, came back. Harry was hardier
than Eva had expected. He was still alive:
He had looked up into Eva’s face and
whispered, “Now I know why you
brought me up here!”

Eva barked a peremptory command at
Rosa, and the sedan rolled over the victim
once more.

The two women, using an old blanket
brought along for the purpose, lifted the
handyman’s corpse into the back of the
car, but that_had not happened until after
long minutes of incredible, nerve-racking
suspense while Eva chatted interminably
with the owner of the property who arriv-
ed so inopportuntely. Later they used the
blanket again to lift Harry’s body out of |
the car and deposit it in the roadside ditch °
near the Inn, where it ultimately was
found by the state trooper.

The trial of Eva Coo, held in
Cooperstown with Supreme Court
Justice Riley H. Heath presiding, began
on August 13th, and was the sensation of
that Depression year of 1934. Reporters
from as far away as California were pre-
sent in the press box throughout the three-
week trial. The State presented a total of
72 witnesses, and reports of their
testimony were featured in headlines
from coast to coast.

Eva Coo was the star of the show, and
she seemed to revel in it. News accounts
commented repeatedly on_ her
resemblance to the famous T exas Guinan,
not only in looks, but in her speech and
mannerisms. She laughed loud and often

\

during the otherwise grim proceedings.
She kidded with reporters and
photographers, urging the latter to take
pictures only of “my good side.”

Her attorneys fought a valiant fight,
but even in their most optimistic
moments they must have known they fac-
ed insurmountable odds. The case went
to the jury on September 6th. The panel
retired to deliberate, and so certain was
the press contingent that it would be a fast
verdict, that all but a handful of reporters
never left the press box. Their judgment
was confirmed when the bailiff passed
the word, after only two hours of

deliberation, that a verdict had been -

reached.

One was reconvened, the formalities
were observed, and the foreman of the
jury solemnly announced that they had
reached a verdict finding Eva Coo guilty
of murder.

Justice Heath, a no-nonsense jurist who
ran‘a tight court, without further ado
sentenced Eva Coo to die in the electric
chair at Sing Sing.

Less than a half hour later, Rosa Pragele
pleaded guilty to second degree murder
and was given a sentence of 20 years to
life.

On the evening of June 27, 1935, a year
and 13 days after the murder of Harry
Wright, Eva Coo. walked that ab-
breviated last mile into the death
chamber at the old g:.y prison on the
Hudson River. Witnesses said she smiled
faintly at the assemblage as she entered
the room. Even when she sat down in the
electric chair she maintained her poise
and aplomb.

Waving cheerily before they strapped
her into the chair, she boomed to the
prison matrons who had escorted her,
“Goodbye, darlings!”

Covering the execution for Inter-
national N ews Service, veteran newsman
James Kilgallen, father of the late
Broadway columnist and television pan-
elist Dorothy. Kilgallen, wrote: “There
was a goodnaturedly cheery note in Eva’s
“Goodbye, darlings’ that reminded one of

Texas Guinan closing a floor show with

her characteristic ‘So long, suckers!’ Eva
had been imitating Tex for so long she
might even have been tempted to borrow
her idol’s signature line, but wisely realiz-
ed that from where she sat, using the
epithet ‘suckers’ would have been
ridiculous.

“Eva Coo had lived a tough life. And
she died a tough death.” oo¢

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EDITOR’S NOTE:

Lottie James, Ernie Tatum, Olive
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81


tly projected

om the Scott
t iter,.in mid-
, one carrying
he other con-
Undersheriff
converged on
s the winding
near its source

assuming that
fate far from
ied body had
idwell. And, if
by deliberate
ted nicely into
he house there
, be haunted.
r officials had
-yard study of
tomobile came
itainside and
thted from the
vn to Sheriff
riff,
vas Mrs. Sarah
cott property. -
and came im-
int. Certain
heriff, had in-
the Scott
‘raided by
pens) souvenir

out 8:15 p.m., it
abandoned and
‘n warned by
vas trespassing
yarently were

So accompanied by a friend—the same
woman who was with her at that
moment—and by a male relative, the
owner had sped up the mountain to deal
firmly with these presumed trespassers.

Mrs. Martin said that she had found the
roadhouse operator—the - notoriously
tough bleached-blonde Mrs. EvaCoo, on
her property close to the deserted house.

With Mrs. Coo was a younger woman
who wore black frame glasses. The latter
sat in silence at the wheel of alarge, dark-
colored Willys Knight sedan.

Mrs. Coo, according to the complai- .

nant, appeared to be just idling about.
However, in a rather surprising con-
tradiction to her widely known reputa-
-tion as.a brassy: hussy and loud-mouth,
Eva had spoken gently, almost in-
gratiatingly, to Mrs. Martin and her com-
panions. She assured them that not a thing
had been taken unlawfully from the Scott
place. She insisted that they look into the
sedan, front seat and back, to convince
themselves that absolutely nothing
belonging to Mrs. Martin: was being
carried away. =

“It was getting on toward nine o'clock,”
‘the owner of the property concluded,
“and we three tried to wait those women

out. But they and their car didn’t budge,

“So we finally drove off. Looking back,
we eventually saw their car lights—they
were starting to leave at last, and they
followed our car down the mountain-
side.”

Mrs. Martin confided to the sheriff
privately that she had wondered and
worried about the curious episode, par-
ticularly after having read in a local
newspaper about the accidental death of
Mrs. Coo’s handyman.

Trooper Cadwell, acting independent-
ly of his partners, had picked up a piece
of information which seemed hardly less
vital for a murder indictment. Cadwell
had dropped in to question Bob Jillson,
the farmhand who by chance had beenat
the Woodbine Inn the previous Thursday
night when Harry Wright’s death had
been discovered. Jillson worked for a
woman who was Eva Coo’s closest
neighbor.

Cadwell had been told by Jillson and a
neighbor, that early last Friday morning,
Mrs. Coo had come to the farm and asked
them to say, if anybody should ask them,
that she, Mrs. Coo, had been right there at
the Inn all of the previous evening and
night, because she was afraid there
“might be gossip about poor Harry
Wright’s death.”

Next on the probers’ agenda was the
task of locating Rosa Pragele, the woman
who had rented the sedan in Oneonta.
They couldn’t find any trace of the
bespectacled hostess, but they did pick

up the entertainer, Olive Brooks, with

whom Miss Pragele shared an apartment.
The other entertainer, Lottie James, also
was taken to Cooperstown for question-

ing. j
The sheriff and Sergeant Cunningham

got little from her except blank stares and
agitated giggling. But from Olive Brooks
came facts both pertinent and credible.
Olive proved to be a self-possessed per-
son with nothing either private or
professional that she wanted to hide. She
readily described how Eva Coo had
gotten her to forge an entry in the old
Wright family Bible, thereby confirming
Eva’s basic revision of the date of Harry
Wright’s birth.

Obsessed by the need to shear five }

years off her handyman’s true age, before
lopping off the rest of his life, Eva had
told Olive:

“Ernie can’t do ‘it, he’s too drunk.
Besides, darling, you write just childish
enough to look exactly like the other

handwriting on the flyleaf of that Good

Book.”

Olive also -revealed that Eva, rather
than being kind and motherly, had often
been cruel to Harry. “I’ve seen her knock
him down and hurt him, many a time.
Once I saw her flourishing a mallet, say-
ing she was saving it for Harry when her
patience ran out.

“No, I don’t know if it ran out last
Thursday, Sheriff, I was entertaining an
old friend, but not at Eve’s dump.”

Far-reaching investigation which
followed these disclosures dredged up
the fact that Eva Coo had been pressed
for funds in the past few months. Her tax-
es were overdue, not only on Woodbine
Inn, but also on property she owned in
Oneonta.

Prteake: in Portlandville confided to
Sheriff Mitchell that Harry Wright had
come into some $2,000 in savings ac-
counts at the time of his mother’s death
only three years ago. Under Eva’s
hospitable management, it had entirely
melted away:

In addition, a small dwelling owned by

‘Harry had burned down mysteriously,

and Eva had promptly borrowed and
used up the fire insurance money, as well
as the cash that her crippled helper
received when he sold the lot on which
the burned cottage had stood.

On Wednesday, June 20, 1934—six
days after Harry Wright’s death—Eva
Coo was taken into custody. Rosa Pragele
was finally located and she too was es-
corted to the county seat.

After obtaining a search warrant, state
police and sheritf’s deputies now invaded
the Woodbine Inn. Eva, undergoing in-
terrogation in Cooperstown, was angrily
protesting her innocence while fiercely
complaining that this outrageous treat-
ment accorded her, Ernie Tatum and
others, would cause her pet parrot and
other pets to starve or die of thirst.

The visiting officers fed and watered
the pets, then began a comprehensive
search of the property. They found the
edited Bible. They found a stained and
scarred mallet wrapped in a crushed and
shabby felt hat. Ernie Tatum later iden-

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79


4) 3 : ¥ hh

. he was being put upon. But, last Thurs-

day,.I ‘recall how he gave me.a sort of
wink when he said they were going up to

the old Scott place on the mountain to dig ©

up some shrubs that Eva had been wan-

. ting for ever so long.”

“Crumhorn Mountain?”. asked Un-
dersheriff Brady. “Was that where they
went?”

“Hold it,” Ernie said nervously. Then
he nervously hastened to stress a point
about which he evidently waned no mis-
understanding.

“I don't, know this of my own
knowledge,” Tatum said now, “but it’s

‘what Harry told me. I remember him say-

ing, too, that Eva had promised they’d be
back in plenty of time so he could hear
Max Baer belt the ears off Primo Carnera
down in New York City.’

Ernie himself, he said, had dimly heard
the radio. broadcast on the heavyweight
championship fight while he was in a bar
in Oneonta where “I was
plastered.”

The man’s interrogators took him back
over these statements again and again,
and the trembling alcoholic took an oath
that he was telling the truth.

Tatum swore repeatedly that he had
not had even a minor part in any plot or
conspiracy. He had not even suspected
there was a plot against the life of his pal
Harry Wright, despite the fact that he had
been useful in helping Eva to insure the
life of her handyman with a number of
nationally ‘ prominent insurance com-
panies.

Sheriff Mitchell pressed him for an
answer to one question which had them
all'stymied up to this point:

getting .

“Why was it important that Harry
Wright be under fifty years of age?”

Ernie Tatum shrugged,
“Every policy that I saw made Harry
younger than his actual age. Eva didn’t
dare insure him as a guy born in eighteen-
eighty. The premiums would have been
too high, Eva said, and Harry couldn't af-
ford to keep up the payments.

“Most of the policies were fairly small,
requiring no physical examination, so
they wouldn't have accepted Harry un-
der those terms if his right age was put

on the applications. Right?”

“Right!” Undersheriff Brady exclaim-
ed. “And the fact that Harry was killed in
a highway accident means that his
beneficiary gets double indemnity.”

Ernie Tatum conceded that would be
true on most of the policies he had seen.

I. was now Sheriff Mitchell’s turn to put
through a call to Sergeant Cunningham,
‘whom he located in Oneonta. Cun-
ningham had already consulted with his
State Police superiors in Albany, then
returned to the garage in Oneonta where
Trooper Maynard had been standing
guard over the rented sedan in which he
had found blood spots.

“The flecks and spots look like blood to
me, all right. The boys from the lab will
probably confirm it for us. But whose
blood is it? And we have to know whether
it’s human or animal blood. It will take us
some time before we et the final
answers.” .

Sheriff Mitchell then informed Cun-
ningham about the Crumhorn Mountain
lead they had gotten from Ernie Tatum in

then said, ~

the matter of the apparently projected
larceny of some shrubs from the Scott
place.

An hour and a half later, in mid-.
afternoon, two official cars, one carrying
state police investigators, the other con-
taining Sheriff Mitchell, Undersheriff
Brady and two deputies, converged on
the mountain which flanks the winding
valley of the Susquehanna near its source
in the Catskill foothills.

The probers were now assuming that
Harry Wright had met his fate far from
the spot where his smashed body had
been found by Trooper Cadwell. And, if
Harry had been slain by deliberate
design, the Scott place fitted nicely into
any murderous pattern. The house there
was commonly reputed to be haunted.

The troopers and other officials had
hardly begun their yard-by-yard study of
the scene when another automobile came
rumbling up the mountainside and
stopped. Two women alighted from the
vehicle. Both were known to Sheriff
Mitchell and his undersheriff.

The one driving the car was Mrs. Sarah
Martin, who owned the Scott property. :

She greeted the officer and came im-
mediately to the point. Certain
neighbors, she told the sheriff, had in-
formed her repeatedly that the Scott
place was being systematically raided by

_ thieves, looters, or just plain souvenir

hunters. '

This past Thursday, about 8:15 p.m., it
seemed, the owner of this abandoned and
eerie property had been warned by
telephone that a'big car was trespassing
and two women apparently were
plundering the place.

The only clue left behind for Idaho detectives was the
very distinctive knife work of a bestial killer who lured
a beautiful young widow to a cruel, hideous death.

“HIS THIRD
/ THRUST SEVERED
HER SPINAL CORD!’

Read this incredible story of torture and terror
in the June issue of

MASTER DETECTIVE

Baffling homicide in Montana...
Torture-Strangling of the
Pretty mune Teacher

NNDEAN THE GREEK
ETECTIVE

i le

So accom):
woman who
moment— anc
owner had sp
firmly with tl
* Mrs. Martin
roadhouse «
tough bleache
her property «

With Mrs. (
who wore bla:
sat in silence a
colored Willy:

Mrs. Coo,
nant, appear:
However, in
tradiction to
tion as a bras
Eva had sp
gratiatingly, tc
panions. Shea
had been take
place. She ins:
sedan, front s
themselves
belonging to
carried away.

“It was getti:
‘the owner of
“and we three
out. But they :

“So we final!
we eventually
were starting
followed our
side.”

Mrs. Marti:
privately that
worried about
ticularly after
newspaper ab:
Mrs. Coo’s har

Trooper Cac
ly of his partn:
of information
vital for a mu

had dropped i
-the farmhand \
the Woodbine

‘night when H

been discover:
woman who
neighbor.
Cadwell hac
neighbor, that
Mrs. Coo had c
them to say, if
that she, Mrs. C
the Inn all of
night, becaus«
“might be gi
Wright’s death
Next on the
task of locating
who had rente
They couldn't
bespectacled h

,up the enterta

whom Miss Pra
The other ente
was taken to C
ing.

The sheriff a

“The break is postponed until tomorrow because of inclement weather. Pass it on”

TRUE DETECTIVE

tified this hat as Harry Wright's, the only
one he owned, the hat that Harry had
with him at 6:30 p.m. on Thursday, June
14th, when Ernie saw him alive for the
last time. i ; :
Determined detective work
penetrated to Eva’s special closet hiding
place and brought forth 14 life insurance
policies. With Mrs. Eva Coo. named as
beneficiary, these documents would have
paid a total of nearly $10,000 on Harry
Wright's life if he had died as the result of
a genuine highway accident. Even
without double indemnity, Eva had
arranged.to swap her handyman for an
even handier amount of folding money.

Phe case against Eva Coo was taking
shape like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle
falling into.place, and the few missing
pieces needed to round out the
murderous picture were locked in posi-
tion when Rosa Pragele abandoned her
defensive silence. In a session with Sheriff
Mitchell; Brady and District Attorney
Donald H. Grant, she opened up and talk-
ed her head off.

Rosa admitted having known of Eva’s
motives. She said she'd heard Eva weigh
and debate the feasibility of “getting rid
of Harry .in an accident.” Rosa admitted
she had rented the sedan and drove it, on
the 14th, with Eva and Harry as

80

passengers. She adamantly _ insisted,
however, that she had not actually helped
with the crime, other than being present
on Crumhorn Mountain at 8:30 o’clock on
that fatal Thursday evening.

Eva’s reaction when she heard of
Rosa’s denial of guilty participation in the
crime was not altogether surprising. She
retaliated by swearing that she herself
had only stood there helplessly while
Rosa steered the heavy. sedan over
Harry’s prostrate form not once, but
twice. ;

On Thursday, June 2lst, three days
after Harry had been buried, Harry
Wright’s body was exhumed. For the pur-
pose of reenacting the murder, the corpse
was taken at dusk up the winding dirt
road to the haunted house on the moun-
tain. At first, the district attorney elected
to play the part of the victim. Leaving the
car, he walked down the driveway of the
Scott place beside Eva, just as she claim-
ed that she and Harry had walked almost
exactly a week ago. Rosa started the car
and bore down on them.

Afterward Eva took the wheel and
brought the car back to the point where,
she said, it had stood all the time that Mrs.

* Martin and her friends were there. .

Eva and Rosa greed. that Harry’s
recently shattered remains lay under the
sedan all the while that Eva so graciously
engaged the woman in conversation,

even insisting that the owner of the Scott
place look into the car to satisfy herself
that they were not stealing anything.

To top off the reenactment, and
probably to score a first in the annals of
the macabre, Harry. Wright’s broken
body, clad in a suit of borrowed clothes,
was brought from the undertaker’s hearse
and allowed to impersonate itself in the
balance of the reenactment!

A couple of officers, none too happy
with the assignment, carefully placed it in
the various positions in which one or both
of the accused women declared it had
rested. .

Despite the grisly horror of the occa-
sion, both women stuck to their con-
tradictory versions of the slaying. Each,
in fact, showed herself so insensitive to
the ghastly proceedings that the officials
present, many of them veterans who had
been exposed to all manner of human
horrors, were appalled.

On the 22nd, the district attorney hada
stern meeting with Rosa Pragele, to
whom he promised a degree of im-
munity on the reasonable presumption, in
view of other evidence, that she had been
a cat’s paw in the murder plot, with
nothing to gain from it save the dubious
goodwill of her employer. He warned her
now that if he found'she was lying, he

would strip he
Rosa prudently
told what later :
the truth of the

Rosa now sa
haunted house
made Harry W
car because sh:
swipe the shru
would be doin
himself be sec:

Eva, accordi
had brought alo
saved the gray :
had left at the:
cy. Eva had as
the gray cap ni
touch of mystc
participation in
ed ‘Harry’s life.

When they w
haunted house,
Eva contrived |
directly into th:
insisted that on:
she grew too :
down. Harry,
danger, whirlec|

_out of the path

Eva was pre}
tingency. She ha
now, swinging
brought it dov
knocking him
onrushing car.

Rosa drove o
the house, cam
than Eva had ex
He had looked
whispered, “N
brought me up

Eva barked a
Rosa, and the sex
once more.

The two won
brought along f:
handyman’s cor
car, but that had
long minutes of i
suspense while |

» with the owner ¢

ed so inopportu:
blanket again t
the car and dep:
near the Inn, \
found by the sti
The trial o
Cooperstown
Justice Riley H
on August 13th,
that Depression
from as far awa’
sent in the press |
week trial. The :
72 witnesses,
testimony wer:
from coast to c
Eva Coo was
she seemed 'to r¢
commented
resemblance to t
not only in look
mannerisms. Sh:


ble! Yet the events that followed
were so bizarre as to make the actual
killing an anticlimax.

Eva Coo operated Woodbine Inn, a
roadhouse between Colliersville and
Maryland, New York. After her ar-
rest, she was cooperative with re-
porters except that she would not
discuss her early life. However, it
was inevitable that her family would
hear about her plight in a Toronto
newspaper. Her mother, age 68, col-
lapsed and nearly died from the
shock. The family had thought that
Eva died 14 years earlier. Now it
was possible, through them, to trace
her early life.

Her parents were respectable peo-
ple who “tried to give all their chil-
dren a good upbringing,” according to
Eva’s sister. They had six girls and
three boys, Eva being the oldest child.
The family lived in Haliburton, Onta-
rio, a town of 600 souls.

At age 17, she left home and
worked as a nurse, first in Toronto
and then in Calgary where she mar-

neighbor in Calgary called her “the
best neighbor in the world; she was
always willing to share whatever she
had with one in need.”

After three or four years, she di-
vorced Bill Coo and was not heard
from again until she wrote to her fam-
ily from New York City saying that
she was about to have an operation
and would write later. She never did.
Her family repeatedly tried to locate
her and finally presumed that she had
died. All that was 14 years before her
trial.

In the: meantime, Eva had _ pur-

Four times the executioner pulled
the switch and four times Eva’s
body tried to break through the

Straps. There was a slight curl of

smoke and finally it was over.

chased. a farm in Harpersfield, Dela-
ware County. Three years later she
traded it for a house in Oneonta and in
1928 she bought the roadhouse and
gas station near Maryland, New
York,

To the locals, Eva was considered
a tough, middle-aged bootlegger; to
the tabloids she was far more glamo-
rous. In them she became “Little
Eva,” “the buxom _ innkeeper,”
“blonde siren,” “the blonde roadhouse
hostess” and “Good Time Eva.”

When first arraigned, unkempt and
defiant, she certainly did fit the first
characterization but after her lawyers
arranged for her to wear attractive
clothing, jewelry, and to listen to tes-
timony with dignity and a look of
ease, she definitely took on the siren’s
role.

Eva had known prosperity during
prohibition. Her home in Oneonta
could have been called a “bed and.
breakfast” place where men could en-
joy hard liquor and a soft companion.
On Jan. 10, 1928, she was convicted
of selling booze to an undercover
agent. Upon hearing that her fine
would be $425, she simply lifted her
dress a bit higher, rolled down a
stocking and took out a big roll of
bills from which she peeled off the
levy and walked out the door.

But now it was 1934 and the de-
pression and prohibition had taken its,
toll. She had left the city to live in a‘
humble rural roadhouse. She still sold
refreshments and cut her overhead by:
dispensing with the bother of pur-
chasing a liquor license, but her girls
and clientele had vanished and she:
didn’t have enough cash to license her
car or even buy a battery for it.

She did have one boarder. Harry
Wright was born in Portlandville on

Mrs. Clift’s children with their

grandmother while mother

was being tried on charges of
complicity in Wright murder.


aera ei te

{ Harry Nabinger and Eva Coo
{ behind prison bars.

Suspected murderess looks
grim-faced on route to court
with defense attorney Byard.

Probably no murder during the 20th
Century received more media cover-
age than did the Coo murder trial even
though it was held in the little village
of Cooperstown in upstate New
York. Not only was it reported in
most newspapers in the U.S. and
Canada but also by many in England,
France, Greece and Italy. The court-

house was too small to seat the.

crowd of journalists and onlookers so
to give everyone a chance, the sheriff
issued advance tickets to morning and
afternoon performances.

I lived within the town of Milford
within eight miles of where Harry
Wright’s life was extinguished and
even closer to where Eva Coo fought
for her life. I followed the proceed-
ings at that time, but in looking back
with fifty four years of history to give
perspective and countless newspaper
clippings and court records to refresh

Martha Clift whiling away the
time with her knitting needles
during break in trial.

the details, the events are even more
intriguing now than then.

Our constitution has not changed in
the intervening years but the interpre-
tation has changed drastically, as you
will note in the liberties that the po-
lice and district attorney were allow-
ed in the trial we will cover.

Then there is the difference in the
times. Today, an occasional benefi-
ciary may hurry up his or her inheri-
tance, but not for $12,900 and accom-
plices don’t kill for $200.

This is a story of deceit, greed and
intrigue. Of Eva? Certainly, but it
didn’t stop there. Eventually, these
character flaws stained the reputa-
tions of most of the people with
whom she came in contact.

All her friends deserted her as they
frantically tried to extricate them-
selves from the web that incriminated
them. The prosecutor used the case to
climb the political ladder. Her defense
attorney deceived her. The sheriff put
his job in jeopardy as he attempted to
enhance his prestige.

Eventually she became a pawn,
used exclusively for the benefit of at-
torneys and public officials in their
quest for riches as they fought among
themselves in a battle of egos.

As far as the murder itself is con-
cerned, this is a story of “the best laid
plans of mice and men” going awry.
No author will ever use her bad luck
within a novel; it’s just too unbelieva-

(continued on next page)

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62

Wright had been run over twice.

Somewhere in the vicinity, he felt,
the death car was located. And it almost
certainly belonged to someone who
knew Wright and was in some way link-
ed to the Woodbine Inn. He had to find
that car...

Burle Honan was close to Eva. And
Honan ‘had a car. Eva might have bor-
rowed that car. He lived in a small
isolated shack, off that Albany-Oneonta
Highway, and not far from Little Eva’s
place. Caldwell decided to start his
search there.

When Caldwell reached the shack,
Honan’s car was beside the house near
a clump of trees that concealed it from
the road. Caldwell bent down to ex-
amine the front end of the car, and al-
most immediately stiffened in excite-
ment. His search appeared to be at an
end almost before it had commenced!
Stains that resembled blood had splat-
tered the spokes of the front left wheel.
He carefully salvaged a hair that had
become fastened to the bumper.

He looked about the place but found
no one at home. Quickly he communi-
cated with his station, and soon the
scene was swarming with police tech-
nicians.

Back at headquarters, he paced im-
patiently up and down waiting for the
technical and laboratory reports. When
he finally received them, his elation
mounted. The stains proved to be hu-
man blood and of the same type group
as -Wright’s. The hair had been placed
under a microscope and compared with
other hairs from Wright’s head. They
were identical. However, no_finger-
prints had been recovered from the car.
It had been wiped clean.

And then a fact cropped up that put
Honan completely in the clear so far
as Wright’s death was concerned. Ho-
nan, it appeared, had had good reason
for not being seen at Little Eva’s on
the night of Wright's death. That very
afternoon, he had been tossed into jail
on charges of disorderly conduct and
drunkenness, and was still there.

There was no doubt of it. Though his
car had been used to run over Wright,
Honan himself was innocent. Someone,
aware of his incarceration, had borrow-
ed the car!

GAIN the investigation seemed

stalled, with no suspects and no
motives left. Even the location of the
spot where Wright had died still re-
mained’ shrouded in mystery. While
Caldwell was at headquarters mulling
over the apparently hopeless situation,
a routine bulletin was posted on the
bulletin board. He read it.

A Mrs. Edythe Milltone, who lived
in Oneonta, had phoned the station
She owned ani old house on the summit
of Crumhorn Mountain. Although the
house was furnished, she had not oc-
cupied it for some time. Friends of
hers, driving in that vicinity on the
evening of June 14 at about eight
o'clock, told her that they had noticed
a car parked beside the house. Fearing
burglars, Mrs. Milltone had requested
the police to look into the matter.

June 14, at eight p.m.! Somewhere,
at about that time, an unidentified car,
had run over Harry Wright!

Caldwell hopped into his patrol car
and raced to the summit of Crumborn
Mountain. In the dirt road beside the

deserted house, he found the evidence ©

he was seeking—the marks of tires, and
stains that he was sure were blood. The
stains had been scuffed over as if some-
one had tried to obliterate them by
rubbing them into the dirt. But the

attempt had been obviously hasty and.

only partly successful.

That evening, Caldwell perused the
reports of the technicians who had
been summoned to examine the area
on Crumhorn Mountain. Again the
stains had been found to be human
blood and of the same classification as
Wright’s; the tire marks had been
photographed, and a comparison had
proved them to be identical with the
tires of Honan’s automobile.

It was now definitely established that
Harry Wright had been killed on Crum-
horn Mountain. In view of the autopsy
report which indicated that the deceased
had been run over twice, Caldwell was
also certain that Wright had been mur-
dered. He ‘decided that if he could
secure the answer to one question, he
would have the solution of the case.

The question was: What had induced
Wright to make the trip up there?

He arrived at an answer which he
believed to be correct, although it was
based entirely on conjecture. The house

on lonely Crumhorn Mountain. was:

known to be deserted. It was ideally
suited for a lover’s tryst. Wright was
reputed to have a weakness for women,
and one in particular. Such a man could
very easily be lured there if a woman
were the bait. But who was she?

. Wright’s infatuation for Eva Coo had

resulted in a fight with Burle Honan. ,

Wright’s feelings were well known, and
Eva was the only woman with whom
gossip linked him. He had even named
her as the beneficiary of his insurance
policies. The mystery woman in ques-
tion would have to be one with a motive
for murdering him. Eva Coo also full-
filled that requirement.

UT Eva had an alibi vouched for

by Elsie Briarton. Therefore, Eva
might very well not be the unknown
siren. Either Eva was innocent and her
alibi genuine—in which case Caldwell
would have to seek the mystery woman
elsewhere—or Eva was guilty and her
alibi was false, which meant that Elsie
Briarton was lying.

Caldwell imparted his conclusions to
Sheriff George Mitchell and District
Attorney Donald Grant. Immediate ac-
tion was decided upon. Elsie Briarton
was taken into custody and brought to
the district attorney’s office in Cooper-
town for interrogation.

The facts were put to her bluntly.
The murder car had been located. The
scene of the murder was known. Eva
Coo had planned the “accident” to col-
lect Wright’s insurance. She, Elsie Briar-
ton, had alibied Eva, and therefore had
lied. A choice faced her: would she

DETECTIVE CASES

etal bindu

¢
f

Ras

“face death in the electric chair or co-
operate with the law?

The officer picked up a sheet of type-
written paper and looked it over casu-
ally. “We already have a sufficient state-
ment that .. .” His voice drifted off
significantly.

The policemen concealed their tense-
ness. Was she really guilty or not? They
soon found out. The girl was wilting
rapidly. Her lips worked nervously as
she stared at the paper. Then she col-
lapsed completely. — ,

“Tl tell you everything,” she said
dully. “I never wanted to do it anyway.
It was all Eva’s fault.”

Even the hardened experienced of-
ficials were horrified by the brutal,
sordid story she babbled out.

Eva, she said, had planned the whole
thing, had been planning it for months
The murder was to be made to look
like an accident so that Eva could col-
lect on the double indemnity clauses
in the policies.

On June 14, Eva had promised Wright
to go with him to Crumhorn Moun-
tain. He was to wait for her on the road.
The two women had left the garage,
driven to Honan’s home knowing he
was in jail. There they had exchanged
cars, then picked up Wright, and pro-
ceeded to the mountain top.

At the deserted house, Eva and
Wright left the car and walked up the
road. :

Eva, who had secretly armed herself
with a small mallet, suddenly struck
Wright on the head and knocked him
down. Elsie, still in the car, drove it
over Wright, turned the car, and drove
it over his body again. Another car
came into sight just then. Elsie had

quickly driven the car over the body to
conceal it. The strange car had con-
tained the friends of Mrs. Milltone who
had later reported the presence of the
parked car to her.

They didn’t know it, but while they
were passing the parked car, Wright’s
body lay concealed beneath it!

The two women had then shoved
Wright’s body into the car, driven ‘back
close to the inn, and dumped the body
into the ditch where Caldwell later
found it. Hurriedly, they had exchanged
cars again. and returned to the garage.

Elsie Briarton was asked how much
po was to get for her part in the mur-

er.

“Eva promised me $200,” she an-
swered. The men looked at each other,

HE arrest of Eva Coo quickly fol-

lowed. She denied everything, fight-
ing the case with her usual vigor. On
August 17, 1934, she was brought to
trial. But the evidence against her, in-
cluding the damning testimony of Elsie
Briarton, was too great, and a verdict
of guilt was returned.

Elsie Briarton was permitted to plead
guilty to murder in the second degree,
and was sentenced to a term of 20
years to life in Bedford Hills State
Prison. She served her term and was
released.

But Eva Coo suffered a different fate.
The doors of the death house at Sing
Sing Prison closed behind her, and on
June 27th, 1935, the lethal volts of
electricity terminated her existence. *

Editor’s Note: The names Elsie Briar-
ton, Burle Honan, Denny Noonan and
Mrs. Edythe Milltone are fictitious.

THAT WAS A BARROOM PICKUP
(Continued from page 13)

That’s what I’ve come here to tell you
about.”

“Good,” said the captain, picking up
a pencil. “Can you give me a description
of the girl’s escort?”

“I can do better than that,” said Qual-
ley. “I can give you his name and
address.”

The name of the man who’ had es-
corted Miss Sussex to the cafe was
quite familiar to Captain Vasel. He was,
according to the information, James
Dale Edwards and he lived on Holiday
Avenue in Hazelwood, the same man
that the lawmen had detained at the
time of the killing. At that time, Ed-
wards had sworn that he had left the
girl at about 10 o’clock on that fatal
evening.

Captain Vasel thanked Qualley for
this vital information and ordered his
detectives to pick up Jim Edwards for
the second time. When the officers had
gone to find Edwards, Captain Vasel

DETECTIVE CASES

ordered an exhaustive check to ascertain
whether the suspect had a previous
— record. They found that he
ad!

In 1959, the records divulged, Ed-
wards had been convicted of transport-
ing a stolen automobile across a state
border, He hati served two years. Prior
to that conviction, Edwards had been
arrested in 1957, in St. Louis County,
charged with burglary and larceny. On
another occasion, the suspect had been
picked up in Ozona, Texas, for car
stealing. Again, in 1962, St. Louis
officers had picked him up for the de-
struction of personal property, and car
theft. However, these charges were
eventually dismissed for lack of evi-
dence.

AMES DALE EDWARDS arrived at

the county building at 10 o’clock in

the evening of March 3rd, escorted by
Detectives Crews and Koenig.

At first, Edwards was sullen and de-
fiant as he denied any knowledge of the
slaying. Captain Vasel pointed out to
the suspect that he had lied about part-
ing from the Sussex girl on the night
that she was killed.

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Sing Sing Scrapbook

by NILES EGGLESTON

n the little cemetery over-looking Portlandville in rural Otsego County, New York, stands

a tombstone with two inscriptions: Harry Wright 1885-1934, below, Eva Coo 1892. If an

archeologist some thousand years from now digs the area, he may wonder why the
bones that make up the rib cage of the male occupant are crushed. The coroner who twice
exhumed the body in 1934 knew. The archeologist may wonder why he finds no remains of
the female. We know that it’s because her charred body lies near Adams Corners, Putnam
County, the exact location of a potters field reserved for the unclaimed bodies of Sing Sing
prison inmates.

22


(Above) One of the booths (Right) Assistant District
at the “Cave” against which Attorney Miles M. O’Brien,
the thugs backed their vic-. the co-author. He worked

tims at the point of guns on the investigation and
. helped solve the baffling case

A taxi pulled alongside the curb in front of the “Cave.”
Two men alighted and walked into the restaurant. The
taxi remained, its motor a soft hum. An instant later a
woman came out of the restaurant and seated herself in the
cab. It was then Patrolman Sherry noticed that a second
woman was seated there.

i id ig are going my way, you can walk me home,” Elinor
a

“Just a minute,” Sherry said. “This looks suspicious.
Go on, you go home.” He crossed the street and made his
way toward the “Cave.” But Elinor would not leave. She
matched him, stride for stride.

Sherry stuck his head into the rear window of the cab.
The two women were about twenty years old. One was a
blonde, dressed in a rather flashy way; her companion was a
dark, pretty girl Her thin lips were clamped over a lighted
cigarette. In the front seat the driver slouched down in
his seat behind the steering wheel.

The blonde regarded Sherry coolly for a moment and



Dee ee te

ER a ee

ee nC mt Sg ST pet snmp

oor

1s

By ey
Assistant District Attorney

MILES M. O'BRIEN

Chief of the Homicide Bureau
New York City

As-told to MICHAEL STERN

46

TRUS Dsrsc TIVE Must Etles

LYAY /GF6

DANCING

/ (A Manhattan

#2.

(Above) Through this swing-

ing door and into the kitchen

of the “‘Cave,”’ Officer Sherry,

mortally wounded, staggered

in pursuit of the fleeing
gunman

RETTY Elinor O’Malley walked

south along Third Avenue. This

street, one of New. York City’s

busiest thoroughfares during the
daytime, was now cloaked in the deep
shadows of night. The elevated structure
overhead cast spidery patterns on the
sidewalks. .

Elinor, an eighteen-year old stenog-
rapher, was clad in the bright, smart
clothing decreed for women during the
spring of 1931. Although it. was mid-
night, she walked jauntily down the
street. Through her mind raced the
stirring motion - picture, “The Public
Enemy,” which she had just seen that
evening.

On the corner of Thirty-eighth Street,
she almost collided with a tall, good-
looking man clad in a loose fitting gray
suit.


(Above) The “‘Cave”—scene
of the vicious hold - up.
(Right) Officer © Bernard
Sherry, whose blazing cour-
age as he battled to the
death will forever stand as
* a monument of honor to his
memory

She glanced up at him. “Why, hello, Besant ” Her
mouth broke into an infectious.smile. “I almost didn’t
recognize you without your uniform.’ -

Patrolman Bernard Sherry of the Fig nth Precinct grinned.
“Tt’s after midnight, young lady. ‘That’s when I go off
rsa ¥ He arched his brows. ‘“How come you’re out so
* late?’

Elinor told him about the show she had seen. It depicted
the rise of a gangster, to the heights in his “profession, ” who
eventually ‘was ae the usual gunman’s reward. The
gangster, played by James Cagney, was taken for a ride,
killed; and propped up against the oor of his mother’s house.
The killers knocked on the door and ran. When the mother
threw open the door, her dead son fell into her arms.

“T can’t believe people can be so cruel and deadly,’’ she
asserted.

“Don’t trouble your pretty head over that, ” Sherry replied
easily. ‘You know how the movies are.’

Across the street a young couple walked into the “Cave,”
an Italian restaurant that catered to an evening crowd.
Elinor shook her head sadly. “It all seemed so realistic.”

on


Eva. She was
She was loud-
f satellites com-
protected these
led handyman,
larry Nabinger.
d them. When

° was finishing
1 punched her
roar died away,
hands. From
ine Eva Coo’s
atly pleading:

wish you
| would drive
t Johnson’s and
n and see if
locate Harry

” Edna stood
a little shiver
because the
ad pleased
me on, Fred.”
and Fred
ed down the
crete highway
he shadow of
o Mountain.
‘e in Edna’s
‘y found the
lace dark, so
ped at Poh’s
made inquir-
ne there had
her Harry
Harry Na-
evening.
s almost
when Edna
‘at back into

eriff George
) and Prose-
ild Grant,
they entered
€ at Coopers-
fork, for the
trial

(A

tae

iy

bove) Dorothy Tripp,
daughter of one of Harry
Wright’s neighbors, Photo-
graphed at the grave of
the murdered man on
August 17th. Note en-
graving on stone that
played such an important
part in the case

the driveway at Woodbine
Inn: .Eva Coo sat in the
glider on the side porch,
her hands clenched in her

lap.

“‘T think I’d better call the troopers,” she said. “Maybe
they can find him; maybe there’s been an accident.”

Eva went into the kitchen; the others followed. The
troopers’ nearest station was at Schenevus, a near-by vil-
lage. Eva picked up the phone and: put through the call.

“Hello?” She spoke softly. “This is Eva Coo. My
handyman, Harry Wright, left here about seven-thirty
o'clock to see about a painting job at Johnson’s. He’s not
back and I’m worried. Who's talking? ... Okay.”

She hung up the receiver. “That was Trooper Bill Cad-
well; he’s coming right over.” She walked to the window
again,

Trooper Cadwell drove fast; his car brought him to Wood-

Exhibits at the trial of
Wright’s murderer.
The mallet is supposed
to have been used in
the killing. The felt '
hat belonged to the

slain man

bine Inn in no time. He heard Eva’s information repeated,
then left the roadhouse and drove slowly in the direction
of Oneonta. Eva stayed in the kitchen, pacing from window
to window with measured step. Her mood of anxiety had
now been completely communicated to Edna Hanover and
Fred Palmer; they, too, felt that perhaps something tragic
had happened to Harry Wright. (Continued on page 70)

45

Sn care tal


(Right) The blond enigma,

the Mrs. Eva Coo, with a yellow
n°", streak of greed in her make-up
iade that boded ill for those who
he stood in her way—a woman

whose life was a paradox

he points to spot where
Wright’s body was found

“I almost forgot the fight,” said
Eva, and her eyes went toward the
window again. “Yes, I like Baer;
he’s big enough and he don’t look
so dumb as that other fellow. And
don’t he hate himself?”

Fred Palmer chuckled. From the
immense, open-air fight bowl on
Long Island came the faint hum of
a monster crowd talking. The hum
of a ringside crowd, always: oddly
penetrating and pulsating. The
main event had not started, but the
crowd was ready for the kill. Big
Eva stared hard at the radio; that
low almost menacing hum seemed to
startle her.

If I were to ask my readers:
Where were you on the night of
June 14th?, thousands would have
to answer: ‘Listening to the Car-
nera-Baer heavyweight champion-
ship fight over the radio.” That’s
exactly what I, the Sheriff of Otsego
County, New York, was doing. But
the evening is memorable to me and

my associates not because of the-

fight but because of a horror un-
covered in our midst.. However——

Fred Palmer and Eva Coo listened
to the radio, Fred eager for the
word that: Baer and Carnera were
in their corners, Eva more pre-
occupied with the whereabouts of

her elderly, shambling, half-crippled handyman, Harry Wright. Time
and again she turned from the radio to the window. Then as 10 o’clock
approached Edna Hanover walked in, fresh as a breeze.

“Have you seen Harry Wright?” was Eva’s first question. “Did you
see him standing in front of Johnson’s as you drove by?”

“No,” said buxom, brown-eyed Edna. She gave her curls a shake and
turned to the radio. ‘How’s it coming?”

“Sh!” Fred Palmer held up a warning finger; a deep-throated roar

G@ Trooper Kenneth Knapp :

the night of June 14th, §


44 True Detective Mysteries

came from the radio. “Baer just climbed into the ring.”

Edna Hanover pulled up a chair. “Do you want me to
look for Harry Wright?” she asked Eva Coo before she sat
down. ;

The roadhouse proprietress shook her head. ‘Not yet,”
she said in a low voice. “We'll wait a little while ionger.
But I’m worried.”

The roar from the radio continued; Baer had gone straight
to the attack. Edna Hanover squealed with delight and
hunched her shapely shoulders forward. But Eva Coo just
paced back and forth from one kitchen window to the other,
rubbing her hands across her big hips in that nervous fashion
of hers. Her strong jaw was set, a jaw so in contrast to her
babyish, bobbed, ‘bleached-blond hair.

Eva’s place, Eva’s crowd, and Eva herself were all peculiar .
in that setting. They didn’t fit. The Valley was prosperous,

respectable, dotted with well-kept farms and neat, little white

(Right) Mrs.

Martha Clift, the

twenty-seven-ycar-

old mother who

was drawn into the
Coo case

towns. Near-by Oneonta

with .its population of twelve

thousand has been called

City of the. Hills. It could

be called City of Churches..
- From somewhere, Eva Coo’
had drifted into the Valley—

lusty, strident, purposeful .
and profane. She had been

arrested for bootlegging in

Oneonta, then she had set up

this roadhouse some _ miles

away. Here she lived with

Harry Nabinger, Harry

Wright and her pets, and sold

liquor. Almost every night

her three girl friends could be

seen at the roadhouse, Edna

Hanover, Martha Clift,

Gladys Shumway. They were

all fairly good-looking, they

had all been married. They

didn’t exactly work there;

they just helped to make up

parties, and the men guests

paid Eva high - prices for her

liquor.

No wonder the church-going people hated Eva. She was |

a bad influence but a contradictory figure. She was loud-
voiced and she dominated her little group of satellites com-
pletely, but she was generous. She fed and protected these
girls, and she fed and protected her crippled handyman,
Harry Wright, and her irresponsible lover, Harry Nabinger.
When they were ill she cared for them, nursed them. When
one of her parrots died she wept bitterly.

The roar from the radio continued; Baer was finishing
off Carnera. Edna Hanover made fists and punched her
knees in excitement. “Sock him, Max!’’ The roar died away,
one voice stood out, the title had changed hands. From
behind Edna Hanover. and Fred Palmer came Eva Coo’s
voice, faintly pleading:

“Edna, I wish you
and’ Fred would drive
down past Johnson’s and
Poh’s Inn and see if
you can locate Harry
Wright.” .

“Okay.’’ Edna stood
up, gave a little shiver
of delight because the
fight’s end had pleased
her. ‘Come on, Fred.”

Edna and Fred
Palmer sped down the
white concrete highway
beneath the shadow of
Crumhorn Mountain.
They were in Edna’s
car. They found the
Johnson place dark, so
they stopped at Poh’s
Inn and made inquir-
ies. No one there bad
seen either Harry
Wright or Harry Na-
binger all evening.

It was almost
11 o’clock when Edna
drove her car back into

(Below) Sheriff George

Mitchell (left) and Prose-

cutor Donald Grant,

snapped as they entered

the court house at Coopers-

town, New York, for the
Coo trial

ee MR ee tm

“4 a

A PRE fe aR

ar

70

Suddenly Eva stopped pacing; from down
the road came a man’s voice calling, clear
and loud. A moment later a motor
throbbed outside.

Trooper Cadwell opened the kitchen
screen door slowly, as if he didn’t want
to come in. He stood there stiff and
straight in his gray uniform and his usu-
ally bronzed face: seemed a trifle pale.
Eva came forward.

“What is it?” she cried. “Did you find
him? Is he hurt?”

“Yes, I found him,’ said Cadwell——
“several hundred yards down the road
—dead.”

“My God!” shrieked Eva. Edna Han-
over ran forward, put her hands on her
friend’s shoulders.

_ “He’s dead in a ditch,” said Cadwell.

“He’s cold and stiff, smashed completely.

A truck or some big car must have hit
him and mangled him.”
x Ok Ok

The little group of investigators stood
beside the body. The headlights of
Trooper Cadwell’s car illuminated the
scene and Doctor Earl C. Winsor of
Schenevus knelt beside dead Harry
Wright. Mrs. Coo’s handyman lay on his
back in a shallow ditch about ten feet
from the conerete highway. There were
bruises and dried blood smudges on his
face.

“CAME along with my headlights

spanning the road,’ Trooper Cad-
well was saying. “I almost missed him
because the grass was high.”

Eva Coo knelt in the grass; her. eyes
followed Doctor Winsor’s skillful hands
as the hands examined Harry Wright’s
body.

Doctor Winsor finally stood up. “He

‘died from a crushed chest,” said the

medico. “Ribs smashed and the shoulders
seem to be broken. There’s a skin crepitus
(air in ‘the tissues), so he wasn’t killed
instantly. The car went over his chest.”

Trooper Cadwell nodded. “It seems
strange,” Cadwell murmured, that the car
should hit him head-on on this side of
the road. It should have hit him from
behind. But maybe the force of the first
blow whirled him around so that he fell
on his back in the car’s path.”

Eva Coo shook her head sadly and
said nothing. Cadwell stepped back to
the road, snapped on his flashlight, played
the light along the highway.

“No skid marks,” he said. “That car
didn’t try hard to avoid hitting him. And
no broken headlight lamps. But it sure
looks like a hit-and-run case.”

So it did, and Trooper Cadwell and
Doctor Winsor made out their reports
accordingly. There was no evidence to sug-
gest anything else. .Not then.. Finally
the undertaker arrived and Harry Wright’s
body was taken away.

Back in the kitchen of Woodbine Inn
Eva Coo faced Edna Hanover. “I guess
we’d better drive down to Oneonta,” said
Eva in a colorless voice, “and see if we
can find Harry Nabinger. I hope nothing
has happened to him.”

Edna stared at Eva. Eva’s eyes were
lack-lustre, her usually capable hands
hung limply at her side, the strength had
gone out of her big body. Yes, Eva was
hard-hit, thought Edna, she had been
really fond of that shiftless Harry Wright.

There was no accounting for loyalties.

Many people wondered why Eva Coo
put up with Wright, just as they wondered
why she put up with Nabinger. Wright
had been an odd, mysterious person. He
had lived with his mother in the nearby

True Detective Mysteries

The Untold Truth About the Eva Coo Case

(Continued from page 45)

town of Portlandville until his mother’s
death in 1931, earning a meager living by
house painting. He had flop ears, a simple
smile, and hé had walked with a shuffling
gait, dragging one foot slightly. His way
of locomotion, as Edna Hanover. herself
expressed it, was “like a baby learning to
walk.’ He was fifty-four years old, yet
there had been something about his trust-
ing smile and manner that suggested a
helpless child.

Was it this childlike quality that had
appealed to the motherly spirit of big Eva
Coo? At any rate, when Harry Wright’s
mother died Eva had taken him to live at
Woodbine Inn. He had stayed on, earn-
ing his board. He had just finished giving
the roadhouse a new coat of paint the day
before his death:

“Let’s go,” said Eva. She and Edna
Hanover went outside and climbed into
Hdna’s car. As they drove toward Oneonta
Eva stared straight ahead, her eyes still
fixed in the trance-like stare they had
carried since the shock of discovering
Harry Wright’s body. Finally she said
softly: “I’m glad I had him put on clean
underwear this morning.”

Within a few minutes the car reached
Oneonta’s Main Street. As it slowed up
Eva Coo poked her head out of the win-
dow, anxious eyes searching for Harry
Nabinger.

“Try the Empire Grill,” she whispered.
Then she put a hand on Edna’s arm.
“There he is.”

A dark figure was moving uncertainly
along the sidewalk, swaying, stopping,
reaching to the sides of buildings for sup-
port. It was after midnight, few people
were about. The car slowed up, Eva
leaped out.

“Harry!” she called in a voice that was
hushed, tense, but penetrating.

HE reached Nabingcer’s side, slipped

her powerful right arm deftly around
his body under the shoulders, turned him
about, led him toward the car. She literally
lifted him into the front seat and climbed
in beside him.

“Let’s get him home as quick as we
can.”

Nabinger was bare-headed, head lolling,
eyes glazed. As the car sped back toward
the roadhouse Eva whispered in her lover’s
ear:

“Listen to me—Harry Wright’s been
killed. Run down by a car. Where have
you been all evening?”

Nabinger stiffened. “What?” he de-
manded. He tried to go on but couldn’t.

- Harry Nabinger, Little Eva’s star
boarder, and a witness for the state
at the Coo trial

Eva shook him violently. “Wake up,”
she insisted. “I tell you Harry Wright’s
been killed. Where have you been all
evening?”

Nabinger didn’t seem to hear, his eyes
were glazed again. Eva Coo leaned away
from him and whispered resignedly: “It’s
no use.” The rest of the drive was made
in silence and the two women helped to

ilot Nabinger into the roadhouse kitchen.

‘red Palmer was still there.

Nabinger stood swaying. in the center
of the room, stared toward the chair that
Harry Wright generally occupied. “Where’s
Harry?” he asked thickly. °

Eva planted herself before him, hands
on hips, voice suddenly strident. “I’ve
been trying to tell you,” she cried, “he
got killed!”

“Oh.” With a tremendous effort Nabin-
ger brought his eyes to focus directly upon
the woman before him. A peculiar, mean-
ing smile twisted his lips, his voice came
sharply, almost hissing,

“You think you know so much about
it! I saw him not five minutes before he
died and five minutes after he left the
house. He did not die where he was
found.”

Nabinger’s words sent an electrifying
chill into the roadhouse kitchen. Edna
Hanover shook her head_ bewilderedly,
Eva Coo’s face turned white as paper.
“My God, Harry, do you know what
you're saying?” she whispered huskily.

She hurried to a near-by closet, returned
with a bottle of whisky, poured a stiff
drink and held it to Nabinger’s mouth.
He drank it and his eyes rolled as he
stiffened out. Eva Coo gathered him
up like a sack of meal and carried him to
a near-by bedroom.

* * x

The story of Harry Wright’s accidental
death appeared in the Oneonta Daily Star
on Saturday morning, June 16th. Yet
forces were at work slowly and inexorably
to change that story.

Harry Wright had been just an un-
noticed derelict, now everything that hap-
pened concerning him began to lift him
first toward local, later toward national
importance. The dark ways of crime
cannot be hidden. —

N autopsy, showing that most of his

ribs had been fractured and that both
shoulder blades were broken, suggested
that the unknown death-car had - passed
over him both front and back. In other
words there was the suggestion that the
car had driven back and forth over the
helpless handyman. The wounds on his
temples also suggested that he might
have been struck by some heavy object
before the car hit him.

These were just suggestions. It is some-
times exceedingly difficult to define ex-
actly the cause of wounds without sup-
porting evidence.

So far, I had not entered the case
actively. The June term of the Supreme
Court. was in progress and I had been
kept busy every moment. But I had fol-
lowed developments with keen interest;
I knew that the state troopers were hunt-
ing for the hit-and-run car and that they
had met with no success. I knew that
neither Mrs. Coo nor any of her neighbors
had heard screams or other sounds indicat-
ing an accident at the spot where Harry
Wright’s body had been found. Mrs. Coo
had told Trooper Cadwell that she had
been home all evening except for a brief
visit to Poh’s Inn, down the road, to buy
cigarettes.

What reason, I asked myself, could


. acme.

small, requiring no physical examination,
so they wouldn’t have accepted Harry un-
der those terms if we gave his right age.
Get it?”

“Sure, we get it!” Brady exclaimed. “And
Harry’s dying in a highway accident means
his beneficiary gets double indemnity!”

“On most of the policies that I’ve seen,”
Ernie conceded.

It was now Sheriff Mitchell’s turn to put
through athurry call to Cunningham, whom
he located in Oneonta. It seemed that the
state police sergeant had already consulted
his superiors in Albany by telephone, then
had sped to Oneonta and the garage where
Trooper Maynard stood guard, to examine
the rental car, especially its rear seat
cushion.

“The flecks and spots look like blood to
me, all right,” the sergeant informed the
sheriff. “But whose? And human or ani-
mal? Quite a few people hire that big
heap in the course of a month, or since
its last thorough cleaning. It will take our
laboratory people some days to test for
bloodstains. Even then, they may not be
able to get us court evidence.”

Mitchell told Cunningham about the tip
on Crumhorn Mountain and the Scott place,
derived from Ernie Tatum.

An hour and a half later, in mid-after-
noon, two fast cars, one carrying state
police, the other driven by Brady and
bringing the sheriff and two deputies, con-
verged upon the mountain which flanks the
winding valley of the Susquehanna near
its source in the Catskill foothills.

The investigators were now assuming
that Harry Wright had met his fate far
from the spot where his smashed and
broken body had been found by Trooper
Cadwell. And, if Harry had been slain by
stealthy design, the Scott place fitted nice-
ly into any murderous pattern. The house
was commonly reputed to be haunted.

The troopers and officials had hardly be-
gun their yard-by-yard study of the scene
when another car came rumbling up the
mountainside and stopped and two women
got out. Both were known to Mitchell and
Brady. The one driving the car was Mrs.
E. Fink, who had inherited the haunted
house.

She greeted the officers and came imme-
diately to the point. Certain neighbors, she
said, had kept informing her that the Scott
place was being systematically raided by
thieves, looters, or just plain souvenir
hunters. This past Thursday, about 8:15
P.M., it seemed, the owner of this aban-
doned and eerie property had been warned
by phone that a big car was trespassing
and two women apparently plundering the
place. So, accompanied by her friend—the
same who was with her this afternoon—
and by a male relative, the owner had sped
up the mountain to deal firmly with these
presumed trespassers.

Mrs. Fink said that she had found the
roadhouse operator, the notoriously tough-
minded Mrs. Eva Coo, on her property
close to the deserted house. With her was
a younger woman who wore glasses hav-
ing heavy black frames, and who sat in
silence at the wheel of a large, rather
antiquated Willys Knight sedan.

Mrs. Coo appeared just to be idling
about. But, contradicting her widely known
reputation as a brassy-headed hussy and
loud-mouth, Eva had spoken gently, almost
ingratiatingly to Mrs. Fink and her com-
panions, She assured them not a thing had
been taken unlawfully from the Scott
place, insisted that they look into the sedan,
front seat and back, to convince ,them-
selves that absolutely nothing of Mrs.
Fink’s was being carried away.

eventually saw their car lights—they were
starting to leave at last, and they followed
our car down the mountainside.”

Mrs. Fink confided to Mitchell privately
that she had wondered and worried about
the curious episode, particularly after
reading in a local newspaper of the acci-
dental death of Mrs. Coo’s handyman.

Trooper Cadwell, acting independently of
Maynard and Knapp, had come across some
information which seemed hardly less vital
as evidence for a murder indictment. Cad-
well had dropped in to question further the
farmhand, Fred Palmer, who by chance had
been at Woodbine Inn last Thursday night
when Harry Wright’s violent death was
first detected. Palmer worked for a Mrs.
Wagner, who was Eva Coo’s nearest neigh-
bor. And Mrs. Wagner and her farmhand
both had something which they felt they
must impart to the police, now that a
crime more serious than a hit-run road
accident was being uncovered.

Early last Friday morning Eva Coo had
come to the farm to ask Mrs. Wagner and
her hired hand to render her a service.
“You see,” she had said, “I’m afraid there’s
going to be gossip and some trouble, even.
I mean about poor Harry Wright’s acci-
dent. I’d like both of you to be good
enough to say, if anybody should ask you,

¥%)

hth =
MASTER

DETECTIVE

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that I was right there at the inn all last
evening. I never went anywhere. Before
Fred came over to hear the fight.” Eva had
coached a startled Mrs. Wagner, “you were
there, remember, bringing some milk and
cream and you used my telephone. Okay?”

Unaware at the time that it might entail
perjury, both Palmer and his employer
had agreed to Eva’s proposal. But now,
searchingly questioned by Cadwell, neither
witness gave Eva Coo a moment’s support
with her crudely improvised alibi.

The authorities were hunting the sedan-
renting, bespectacled hostess at Eva’s inn,
Martha Clift. They couldn’t find Martha all
day Tuesday, but did pick up the enter-
tainer, Olive Brooks, with whom the Clift
woman shared a small apartment on Main
Street in Oneonta. And that other enter-
taining habitue of the inn, the shapely
Lottie James, was also taken to Coopers-
town for questioning.

From her the sheriff and Sergeant Cun-
ningham got little save blank and agitated
giggling. But from Olive Brooks came facts
both pertinent and incredible. Olive proved
to be a self-possessed person with nothing
either private or professional, that she

Obsessed by the need to shear five years
off of her handyman, before lopping off
the rest of his life, Eva had told Olive,
“Ernie can’t do it, he’s too drunk. Besides,
darling, you write just childish enough to
look exactly like the other handwriting on
the flyleaf of that Good Book.”

Olive also revealed that Eva, rather than
being kind and motherly, had often been
cruel, to Harry especially. “I’ve seen her
knock him down and hurt him, many a
time. Once I saw her flourishing a mallet,
saying she was saving it for Harry when
her patience ran out. No, I don’t know if
it ran out last Thursday, Sheriff. I was en-
tertaining an old friend, but not at Eva's
dump.”

Far-reaching investigation even dredged
up the fact that Eva was pressed for funds
this spring, that her taxes were overdue,
not only on Woodbine Inn but also on
property in Oneonta which she owned. A
banker in Portlandville confided to Sheriff
Mitchell that Harry Wright had come into
some $2,000 in savings accounts with his
mother’s death only three years ago. Un-
der Eva’s hospitable management it had
entirely melted away. In addition, a small
dwelling owned by Harry had burned down
rather mysteriously. And Eva had promptly
borrowed and used up the fire insurance
money, likewise the cash that her crippled
helper received when he sold the lot on
which the burned cottage had stood.

On Wednesday, June 20th, 1934—six days
after Harry Wright’s death—Eva Coo was
taken into custody. Martha Clift was finally
located and escorted to the county seat also.

Obtaining a search warrant, state police
and deputies now invaded Woodbine Inn.
Eva, undergoing interrogation in Coopers-
town, was angrily protesting her innocence,
while fiercely complaining that this out-
rageous treatment accorded her, Ernie
Tatum and the others, would cause her pet
parrot and other pets to starve or die of
thirst.

The visiting officers fed and watered
them, then began a probing and compre-
hensive search. They found the edited
Bible. They found a stained and scarred
mallet wrapped in a crushed and shabby
felt hat. Ernie later identified this hat as
Harry Wright’s, the only one he owned, the
hat that Harry had had with him at 6:30
P.M. on Thursday, the 14th, when Ernie last
saw him alive.

Determined detective work penetrated to
Eva’s special closet hiding place and
brought forth 14 life insurance policies.
With Mrs. Eva Coo as beneficiary, these
documents would have paid a total of near-
ly $10,000 on Harry Wright’s life if he had
died as the result of a genuine highway
accident. Even without double indemnity,
Eva had arranged it so as to swap her
handyman for an even handier amount of
folding money.

Although the tests of the sedan’s rear
seat cushion remained inconclusive, Martha
Clift could be confronted with indisputable
evidences of her participation in a brutal
homicide. And so she soon abandoned her
defensive silence and told Mitchell, Brady
and the county prosecutor, District Attor-
ney Donald H. Grant, a story of her part
in the weird and vicious affair.

Martha admitted having known of Eva’s
sordid motives. She had heard Eva weigh
and debate the feasibility of “getting rid
of Harry in an accident.” Martha admitted
renting and driving the Willys Knight se-
dan on the 14th, with Harry and Eva as
its passengers. But, she insisted, she had
not actually helped with the crime, beyond
being present on Crumhorn Mountain at
8:30 o’clock this past Thursday evening.

|

On Thursday. J
its interment, Wri
For purposes of
was taken at dusk
to the haunted hx
Grant, the district
the part of the v1
walked down th
place beside Eva
she and Harry ha
a week ago. Mar'
bore down upon t!

Afterward Ev:
brought the car
she said, it had st
Fink and the t«
Eva and Martha a
recently shattere
murder car all th¢
ly engaged the v:
companions in c
that they make c:
contained no plu:

To top off the
first in all the an:
Wright’s poor, br
of borrowed clot!
undertaker’s veh:
sonate itself. Th
placed in the \
one or both of the
that it had reste:

In spite of so:
stuck to their cor
slaying. Each, in
strikingly insens:
horn operation
investigators wer

On the 22nd t
would prosecute
interview with M
ised her a degre«
ously, she had st«
from this savage
cripple’s life. But
lose her immunit

Martha came <
eventually to be
of the matter:

On the 14th, o:

Scott place in 1!

had made Harry

cause she said

Mrs. Fink’s shru

mustn't let himse

the practical on
this moment ur
had finished pai:
lows? Hadn't sh«
talk Harry out

negotiation at J:

And there wa
along her malle:
cloth cap for thi
bine Inn patron
to flee in ill-cle
take the cap an
with him. Nor
them. Eva had
ing the gray ¢
mystery and ma
accident scene n+
were to conclud

In the Scott d:

to walk the lim;

into the path of

sisted that, once
the car, she gré
slow down. Ha:
then whirled an
to dart aside to
pated just such

She had brough

Swinging it
on the temple. }

of the car. It w

Martha drov:

T “It was getting on toward 9 o’clock,” the cared to hide. She readily described how Eva, apprized of Martha's denial of major the [pepe .

p owner of the property concluded, “and Eva Coo had got her to forge an entry in guilt, retaliated by swearing that she her- hardier took _
we three tried to wait those women out. the old Wright family Bible, thereby con- self had only stood helplessly aside while He had oe
But they and their car didn’t budge. So firming Eva’s basic revision of the date of Martha steered the heavy sedan not once whispered, °

"9 off we finally drove. Looking back, we  Harry’s birth. but twice over Harry’s prostrate form. me up here!

(

os | or RIT RES ETTT


about 8:30

ruck or car
e come from
ay driver on
in a state of

often it does
n is skilled,
1esday morn-
with a me-
te shift in an
night.
worth,” the
vas in here
mighty flus-
evening our
over there.
she was try-
uy it, if she

cr?” Maynard

ticket,” He
me out with
9:55 P.M. on
ying it, be-
> big bus, I
in. She didn’t
1e owed and
running. I
ily, but she

Martha Clift,
Jneonta. She
naybe 26 or
lack frames.
this lead at
d, was pres-
it Woodbine
license, but

ynard made
the Willys-
to the tele-
Cunningham

ill brownish
edge of the
ipment with
I'm going to
t here. The

Sunningham
report May-
ell had his
sat facing a
> Tatum.

Ernie,” the
a good stiff

re wagon.”
ing me for

this state,
igon?”

‘chell went
& you stay
if you get

d poor old

tum began,
which had
into his

arry’s been
heriff said.
ge of tone
switch on
that snort
u offered,

e steaming
stimulant

said. “I
r suspect,

or a killer’s accessory, or as a material
witness. Take my word, you’ll-find the first
two don’t rate with the last—a nice, co-
operative material witness, resigned to
telling the truth.”

And so, at length, Ernie Tatum talked.
He swore that he knew nothing of the
fatal mishap which had overtaken Harry
Wright, who would have been 54 next
October. He had known that Eva Coo
ordered the Portlandville stonecutter to
change the year of Harry’s birth. But he
had never heard her discuss such a change
with Harry or the allegedly erroneous
1880.

His own relations with the handyman
had been unvaryingly cordial. There had
been a sort of common bond of helpless-
ness and thrall in their respective exist-
ences at Woodbine Inn, said Ernie.

“Did ‘you ever talk with Harry about his
insurance?” the sheriff asked.

“I talked with Eva about Harry’s insur-
ance.”

“When?”

“Off and on for months. I moved in with
Eva last summer,” the ex-furnace sales-
man reminded them blandly, “and almost
right away she began telling me how
Harry was nuts about insurance and wanted
more policies. I took care of most all the
correspondence, writing to various com-
panies and signing his name.”

Brady said, “Naming yourself as the
beneficiary?”

“Are you kidding? Eva’s Harry’s sole
beneficiary. She told me that he wanted it
that way. That he knew he owed her every-
thing.”

The interrogators exchanged glances.
Sheriff Mitchell opened a new line of at-
tack. “When,” he inquired, “was the last
time you saw Harry Wright alive?”

Ernie said that around 6:30 p.m. last
Thursday he had spoken briefly with Harry.
They had each tossed off a bottle of cold
beer and Eva’s handyman had mentioned
that he was going with her and one of the
girls to dig up some shrubs. They’d be
taking them on the sly, Harry had indi-
cated.

“How did he indicate that?”

“Oh, Harry wasn’t so dumb, Sheriff. He
could seem dull and aggravating enough
when he thought he was being put upon.
But, last Thursday, I remember how he
gave me a sort of wink when he said they
were going up to the old Scott place on
the mountain, to dig some shrubs Eva had
been wanting for ever so long.”

“Crumhorn Mountain? Was that where
they went?”

“Wait,” Ernie hastened to amend, “I don’t
know this of my own knowledge. But it’s
what Harry told me. I remember him say-
ing, too, that Eva had promised they’d be
back in plenty of time so he could hear
Max Baer belt the ears off Primo Carnera,
down in New York City.”

Ernie himself had dimly heard the radio
returns on the heavyweight championship
fight in an Oneonta bar where he “was
busy getting plastered.” He was obliged to
go over these statements again and again.
And he took oath that he was telling only
the truth.

He swore repeatedly that he hadn’t had
even a minor part in any plot or con-
spiracy. He hadn’t even suspected there was
a plot against Harry’s life, despite the fact
that he had been useful in signing Harry’s
name and otherwise helping Eva insure her
handyman’s life with a number of nation-
ally prominent companies.

“Why was it so important that Harry
Wright be under 50 years of age?”

“Every policy that I saw made Harry out
younger than his actual age. We didn’t dare
insure him as a guy born in 1880. The
premiums would have been too high. Eva
said, and Harry couldn’t afford to keep
them up. Most of the policies were fairly

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~3
-_


the scene

had just
ingalows”’
two days

ison place.
ards from
»psy fixed

our and a
d his des-
1 to a man

eastbound
ed toward
vith every
rry would
his way to
i Oneonta,
the east-
»ward ap-
ver, have
of a mile.
nd vehicle
tch on the

n, “would
ures, pos-
I combed
directions.
ittering of

irned back
d and the
the road?
ant traces
y or, per-

Interior of house became attraction for souvenir hunters

“Bill, were you able to learn anything about the cap?”
Sergeant Cunningham asked.

Cadwell said that, thus far, he had shown the gray cloth
cap to a number of storekeepers, in Oneonta and also
smaller places such as Maryland and Schenevus. He had
been told that a salesman with a pretty cheap line of goods
had come through the area about a year ago. He had been
offering caps like this one. But it would be virtually im-
possible to trace the purchaser of a single cap.

In Oneonta there was a haberdasher with one of these
same caps which he had been unable to sell. By comparing
the two caps Cadwell had ascertained that a careful hand
had snipped both size and maker’s label from the gray cap
discovered in the roadside ditch not far from Harry Wright’s
body.

On Saturday morning, June 16th, Brady and Sergeant
Cunningham referred the Wright case to Sheriff George
Mitchell. The dim outline of an ingenious crime had begun
to challenge the investigators. Possibly Harry Wright hadn’t
been struck in a hit-and-run accident, but by murderous
design.

Wright had lived and worked around here all his life,
and for the past three years at a disreputable roadhouse.
He must have seen and heard any number of things. It was
not improbable that he had made himself some enemies.

Originally his home had been in nearby Portlandville.
He had lived there with his mother until her death three
years ago. Thereafter he had moved to Eva Coo’s Woodbine
Inn, earning his board and lodging as her handyman.

Since Harry wasn’t robust and was partially crippled, his
handiness had’ many limitations. But Eva had seemed to
find uses for him. She liked to freshen up her joint with an
annual paint job, she said, in return (Continued on page 70)

Her good humor and optimism never left Eva. In court she was cheerful. She maintained her poise when she walked to the chair

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Eva and the
Haunted House

(Continued from page 27)

for which she had granted the lonely and
handicapped painter a year-round home.

“Suppose, on Monday, you go to Port-
landville, attend Harry Wright’s burial
Service,” Sheriff Mitchell suggested to his
principal deputy. “You might just possi-
bly pick up a bit of gossip over there—
about who would want such an inoffensive
little guy out of the way.”

Brady found a pitifully small gathering
of people at the cemetery, with the large
Mrs, Eva Coo in conspicuous attendance.
She was escorted by an amazingly sobered-
up and strained-looking Ernie Tatum.

Early that afternoon the deputy was
back in Cooperstown, reporting to his
chief, “Harry’s name and birth year were
already carved on the Wright family mon-
ument, together with those of his parents.
Then I saw something else—a newly cut
numeral in Harry’s birth year. So I
looked up old MacGregor, the stone-cutter.
And what do you suppose he told me?”

Less than four weeks ago, on May 23rd,
he received an order to alter Harry’s birth
year from 1880 to 1885. The order had
come to him, said the elderly Scot, from
Woodbine Inn. Mrs. Coo, Harry’s em-
ployer, had telephoned at Harry’s request,
saying that he wished to have a long-
standing mistake set right. It had even
been a joke in Harry’s family, the lady
explained. He was not 54, but 49, and not
even that until next October. MacGregor
had promptly complied. It only meant
changing an 0 to a 5. And Mrs. Coo her-
self had sent him the payment for his
work. :

“They tamper with a gravestone and in
three weeks’ time the poor guy’s using it,”
the sheriff said.

“The only answer seems to be insurance.
Or else some kind of inheritance Harry
Wright was maybe due to get,” Brady said.

I’m thinking insurance,” Sheriff Mitchell
Said.

“It adds up,” Brady said. “On May 23rd
Harry’s made five years younger. Then on
June 14th Harry’s dead. How would a
birth year on a gravestone matter, with
Harry alive? You only had to ask him
his age.”

The sheriff nodded. “This could mean
that somebody counted on Harry not stay-
ing alive.”

“Well, on that Score,” Brady ‘said, “I’ve
got up a list. Besides H. Wright, deceased,
and Eva herself, these four people are the
most familiar with the sights and sounds
at merry Woodbine: Martha Clift, known
as the hostess; Lottie James, an entertainer;
Olive Brooks, same kind of entertainer;
and the star boarder, Ernie Tatum.”

“Okay, we'll question ’em one at a time.
Begin with Ernie,” the sheriff said.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Cunningham and
three troopers of the state police, Cad-
well, Maynard and Knapp, had been fol-
lowing through on the original premise
that Woodbine Inn’s crippled handyman
had been killed in a hit-skip accident on
the highway but a few hundred yards from
the roadhouse. It was an enormous labor
to call at all the garages and filling sta-
tions in the wide area designated by Cun-
ningham and ask questions, But for many
hours in a 5-day period—Friday through
Tuesday—the ‘New York Officers worked
at little else.

They kept asking fellows to think back.
A none too agile man. named Wright had
been struck and killed on the Oneonta-

ERE

Maryland road on Thursday about 8:30
P.M.

“Have you noticed any truck or car
with damage that might have come from
such a hit-run killing? Or any driver on
Thursday night who seemed in a state of
nerves about something?”

This program paid off, as so often it does
when the investigative team is skilled,
devoted and tireless. Early Tuesday morn-
ing Trooper Maynard talked with a me-
chanic who had worked the late shift in an
Oneonta garage on Thursday night.

“For whatever it may be worth,” the
mechanic drawled, “a gal was in here
Thursday night who seemed mighty flus-
tered. She had rented for the evening our
Willys Knight, that heavy job, over there.
T saw that the ticket read that she was try-
ing it out and would maybe buy it, if she
found she liked it.”

“What time did you see her?” Maynard
asked.

“It'll be stamped on the ticket,” He
ducked into the Office and came out with
it. “She turned the car in at 9:55 p.m. on
the 14th. But she wasn’t buying it, be-
lieve me. How’d she like the big bus, I
asked—just making conversation. She didn’t
make any back. Paid what she owed and
shot out of here, practically running. I
looked the Willys over carefully, but she
hadn’t scraped it up none,”

She had given the name of Martha Clift,
an address on Main Street, Oneonta. She
was a tall, nice looking gal, maybe 26 or
27, wore glasses with heavy black frames.

The state trooper checked this lead at
once. Martha Clift, it developed, was pres-
ently employed as a hostess at Woodbine
Inn. Martha had a driver’s license, but
didn’t own a car.

Returning to the 8arage, Maynard made
a thorough examination of the Willys-
Knight sedan, then he sprang to the tele-
phone and rang up Sergeant Cunningham
in Cooperstown.

“In back there are some small brownish
splotches, mostly just under the edge of the
rear seat cushion. I’ve no equipment with
me,” Maynard explained. “But I’m going to
put the car on ice till you get here. The
spots could be dried blood.”

It was nearly noon when Cunningham
telephoned Sheriff Mitchell, to report May-
nard’s find in Oneonta. Mitchell had his
own find. At the moment he sat facing a
taut, pallid and twitching Ernie Tatum.

“You look kind of peaked, Ernie,” the
sheriff was saying. “How about a good stiff
jolt of black coffee?”

“No jolts, Sheriff. I’m on the wagon.”

“Since when?”

“Not long. But you can’t hang me for
trying.”

“We don’t have hanging in this State,
Ernie. Since when—on the wagon?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might. Would it be,” Mitchell went
on casually, “that Eva is making you stay
sober now because she’s afraid, if you get
drunk, you’ll talk?”

“What would I talk about?”

“The ‘accident’ that murdered poor old
Harry Wright.”

“He wasn’t so old,” Ernie Tatum began,
as if parroting a stock phrase which had
been remorselessly hammered into his
booze-fogged brain.

“No, on his tombstone poor Harry’s been
getting younger every day,” the sheriff said.

His words and sudden change of tone
made Ernie shiver. “Guess Tll switch on
you, Sheriff,” he said, “and have that snort
on the county. Coffee was all you offered,
wasn’t it?”

“Black coffee,” said Mitchell.

When a deputy brought in the steaming
container, Ernie swallowed the stimulant
greedily.

“Now to business,” the sheriff said. “I
can hold you, Ernie. As a murder suspect,

4

sete issyoee

scsmnaeanes i

or a killer's
witness. Tak«
two don’t ra
operative m
telling the t:

And so, at
He swore t)
fatal mishap
Wright, whe
October. He
ordered the
change the 4
had never he
with Harry
1880.

His own
had been un
been a sort
ness and thr
ences at Woxc

“Did you e\
insurance?” ¢)

“T talked w
ance.”

“When?”

“Off and o
Eva last sun
man remindec
right away
Harry was nut
more policies
correspondenc
panies and sig

Brady said.
beneficiary?”

“Are you k
beneficiary. S}
that way. That
thing.”

The interro
Sheriff Mitche
tack. “When,”
time you saw }

Ernie said
Thursday he h:
They had eacr
beer and Eva
that he was go
girls to dig u
taking them o;

cated.
“How did he
“Oh, Harry

could seem du
when he thoug
But, last Thur |
gave me a sort |
were going up |
the mountain,

been wanting f:

“Crumhorn \
they went?”

“Wait,” Ernie
know this of
what Harry to]
ing, too, that E
back in plenty
Max Baer belt |
down in New Y:

Ernie himself
returns on the
fight in an On
busy getting pla
go over these st
And he took oat
the truth.

He swore reps
even a minor ;
spiracy. He hadn
a plot against H:
that he had beer
name and other.
handyman’s life
ally prominent c

“Why was it
Wright be under

“Every policy +
younger than his
insure him as a
premiums would
said, and Harry
them up. Most o/


snipe ey LOOT I

pemeamttne tee

Harry Tillepaugh’s undertaking parlor.
“Tl pay (ce funeral expense,” Eva told

the “undertaker. “How much is a nice

casket?”

Tillepaugh showed her an oak coffin.
“This one’s $210.”

“Pretty steep,” murmured Eva. ~

“Here’s another for $140.”

“T’ll take that,” said Little Eva promptly.

Sheriff George H. Mitchell, examining
the broken corpse, discovered a curious fact.

“He was rin over twice,” he pointed out,
“and from opposite directions.”

“Maybe one car knucked him down, and
ano, coming along later, rolled over
im.

“Then how’d the body get in the ditch?
If his clothes didn’t bear these tire marks,
I'd figure an auto flung him there.”

Dissatisfied with the hit-and-run-motorist
theory, Sheri? Mitchell launched a quiet
investigation as Limpy Wright's body was
buried beside that of his mother in Port-

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OTHER MEN
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PATERE

landviile Cemetery.

of Eva’s girl entertainers.
“I’m no angei,”

‘va’ and Martha Clift drove up,
they had ‘en ‘riding on Crumhorn Moun-

injuries, paysicians’ reports showed, had
becn inflicted about 8 p.m. Seel:ing Martha
Clift, he learned from her roommate that

First whisper of foul play came from one

she said, “but I don’t
cotton to murder. And I think Limpy got

bine Inn at 6:30 p.m. on the day of the
mu.‘der, but had found it locked and empty.
He had waited until 9 o’clock when Little
saying

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Little Eva ari Martha Clift, explaining:
“Martha knew at 10 o’clock that Limpy
was dead, whereas: his body wasn’t found

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Little Eva picked up the corpse and
tossed it into the tonneau, her account went

“That was the hardest day’s work I ever
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Martha asked: “Are you sure he’s dead?”
Eva placed her lips close to their victim’s
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He did not answer,

“He’s a goner,” said Eva,

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For three weeks witnesses took the stand
to testify against her-- witnesses dug up by
masterful sleuthing on the part of Sheriff
Mitchell, his deputies and state troopers.

Martha Clift frankly told of her role in
the monstrous murder of the pitiful cripple.
Others described Little Eva’s acts of bru-
tality toward Limpy. Even Arnold Bunker
helped the prosecution; he related how
Little Eva had solicited his aid.

Alone in her hour of need, the avaricious
and ruthless hellhag calmly chewed gum.

“Guess I'll fry,” she observed.~-Nodding
toward witnesses, she said: “All liars.”

Only two hours of deliberation were re-
quired by the jury of 12 farmers. Their
verdict was: “Guilty!” Showing no emo-
tion, Little Eva was sentenced to death.
As she was led from the courtroom, she
stopped to kiss Martha Clift.

“God bless you, Martha—and me, too,”
she said. “I hold no grudge against you.”

Mrs. Clift was permitted to plead guilty
to second-degree murder. She was given a
term of 20 years to life. Other denizens of
the Woodbine Inn, as a- reward for aiding
the State, were freed.

On June 27, 1935, appeals to higher
courts having failed, Little Eva was elec-
trocuted at Sing -Sing.

Her last words, spoken to two matrons,
were:

“Good-bye, darlings.”

Exploration of Little Eva’s past revealed
that she was born on a farm in the state of
Washington. The atmosphere of her home
was wholesome—but at an early age she
derived unnatural enjoyment from doing
and viewing things which would nauseate
other girls. The beheading of fowl and the
butchering of hogs, for example, gave her
delight, and she loved to help kill cattle.

Her callousness in this regard has been
traced back to her friendship for a widow
of pioneer stock who owned the property
next to that of Eva’s parents. Too poor to
employ hired hands, this woman did the
farm work herself. Eva, as a child of six
or seven, often saw her butchering stock.
Imitating, Little Eva stabbed her pet dog

to death and exhibited no remorse after-

wards.

Reaching the age of 17, Eva, a chubby,
fair-haired lass, went to Spokane to study
nursing. She was indolent and flunked in
the final examination. Rather than go to
work to earn a living, she married William
Coo, a clerk. She admitted later that she
did not love him; she became his bride
only to get a meal ticket.

The couple went to Canada to live. Fre-
quent quarrels arose because she neglected
her housework, -and, as she recalled after-
wards, her husband accused her of being
“too lazy to get in oyt of the rain.” Their
marriage ended in the divorce courts, and
Eva was adrift once more.

Later on, with money salvaged from her

wrecked marriage, she opened the Wood-*

bine Inn. Unusual for a beginner in the
unwholesome business, she prospered.

Laziness and greed, psychiatrists agree,
were the main motives for Little Eva’s
crimes. But partly to blame, they added,
was the blunting of her feminine sensibil-
ities when as a child she engaged in the
bloody work of animal butchering, an
activity which helped implant in her the
sadistic traits which hardened her heart to
murder. .

Reviewing the case, psychiatrists and
criminologists place some of the responsibil-
ity upon public indifference, whch permitted
her to operate such a resort for so long,
giving ‘her the idea that she could break
laws with impunity and even get away
with homicide.

The name “Arnold Bunker,’ as used in

this narrative, is not actual but fictitious.— —

t ,
iL DITOR,

| Hospita! Firebug

(Continued from page 31)

first degree.

District Attorney Dodd and Fire Marshal
Brophy immediately conferred on the best
means of removing Rohde from society.
Dodd later told newspapermen:

“The longest sentence Rohde could get
on conviction would be 20 years. With time
off for good behavior, he would be free
again in 15 years at most. Chief Brophy and
I feel Rohde would be less of a menace to
society if he were confined in a mental in-
stitution, where he could not be released
unless he had regained a balanced mind.”

Dodd and Brophy presented their views
to County Judge George W. Martin.

When Ernest Rohde was arraigned later
that day on the arson indictment, Judge
Martin offered to accept a plea of insanity
if the prisoner would agree to be subjected
to a mental examination.

More than a month later, a lunacy. com-
mission appointed by Judge Martin re-
turned a report finding Rohde basically
sane, but of low-grade mentality.

On January 31, 1928, Judge Martin or-
dered Ernest Rohde committed to Napanoch
Institute for Mental Defectives.

Rohde still is an inmate in this institu-
tion, from: which he never will be released
unless he is divested of his pyromaniac
tendencies.

$15,000 on
Phantom’'s Head

(Continued from page 43)

he hasn’t left a single fingerprint.”

“What does he look like?”

“Nobody has ever seen the rat; that’s
why he’s called the Phantom.”

Coroner’s Physician Thomas A. Carter,
kneeling over the bodies, finished his ex-
amination and arose.

“Particularly brutal and unnecessary,
these murders,” he reported. “Mrs. Galvin
was struck savagely over the head three
times and then, while dazed by the blows,
shot in the back. The maid, too, was
bludgeoned. Both women were helpless,
almost unconscious, before the slayer used
his gun on them.”

The medico displayed a flattened slug.
“Here’s the bullet that finished Mrs. Gal-
Vin It’ passed through her heart, causing
instantaneous death, and came out to fall
to the floor.”

Gilbert took the pellet.
he said, studying it.

“That doesn’t ft in with the theory that
the Phantom is responsible,” stated Captain
Geischecker. “A smart prowler like that
bird seldom totes so large and noisy a gat,
rarely kills, and then only when cornered.
Certainly these two women could offer little
hindrance to the escape of a determined
crook.”

“Your points are well taken,” nodded
Captain Gilbert, “but I’ve encountered a few
crib crackers who prefer a .45. Its weight
makes it an ideal weapon to use as a club,”

IEUTENANT THOMAS KELLY, of
State’s Attorney Thomas J. Courtney’s
staff, now entered. He had been directing
a force of detectives in a door-to-door can-
vass of the fashionable section.
“WV py

5 1
sae . + hogs
COM bad) at thie

“From a .45,”

murders oc-

COO, Eva, wh, clec. NY (Otsego) July 27, 1935.

al

—- ANH HD

HEADLINE DETECTIVE ANNUAL, #9, 1957

m= A QUARTET OF YOUNG PEOPLE from One-
onta got out of their car and strode into the Wood-

bine Inn, a roadhouse on the highway near the

village of Maryland, in upstate New York. It was
like walking into a boiler factory. Prohibition was
supposedly in force, but they never heard of it at
the Woodbine. A five-piece band was blaring
“Red-Hot Henry Brown,” and three girl enter-
tainers in highly abbreviated costumes were doing
a slinky sort of dance that never would have won
churchly approval. Patrons in various states: of
inebriation were clapping their hands and roaring
approval.

The four young folks were met at the door by. a
big, brawny blonde clad in a low-cut, sequined
evening gown that proved she had the shoulders
of a wrestler. .

“Hello, there,” she said. “You're from here-
abouts, ain’t you?”

“Why—yes,” replied one of them, a tall lad of
about 19.

“Well, now, this is sort of a private club,” she
said sweetly. “Sorry, but you can’t come in. You
run along now, dearies, and spend your money
somewhere else.”

“But—” the young man began to protest. Then
he saw that the hard-faced blonde meant business,
and that a muscular man with all the earmarks of
a bouncer was standing by as if ready for action.
The four young people took the hint and retired
in some dudgeon. :

A well-dressed, middle-aged regular patron of
the establishment had been watching this interlude
with interest and puzzlement. “Eva, now I’ve seen
everything,” he said to the blonde. “Here you run

a pleasure joint catering to the public, and what-

do you do? You drive business away.”

“Don’t call my dump a joint,” grinned Evangeline
Coo, better known as Little Eva. “It’s a refined
place of entertainment.”

“But why turn customers away?” he insisted.

“Reason enough,” replied Eva. “We ain’t exactly
abiding by the law here, are we? Well, they’re
pretty strict here in Otsego County. That’s why
I give the gate to local people, especially young-
sters like them. They ain’t got much money to
spend anyway, and if they get home with half a
snootful their parents’d raise Cain and before you
know it I’d be shut up tighter’n a drum.

“Now you're from Albany,” she went on, looking
out over the crowd. “Most of the people I see here
are from out of the county.. They got cash in their
jeans, they drive out here to spend it and they
don’t cause me no trouble. See what I mean?”

“I get it,” he nodded. “I’ve got to admit you’re
smart, Eva.”

A few yards away a patron suddenly leaned
back in his chair, bumping into a waitress carrying
a tray of soiled dishes. She lost her hold and the
tray hit the floor with a crash of breaking crockery.

“Limpy!” Eva yelled imperturbably.

An innocent-looking, gray-haited man wearing
an apron emerged from behind the bar, walking
with a decided limp. “Yes, ma’am?” he said.

“Clean up the mess,” she ordered, “an’ don’t take
all night about it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, hurrying for broom and

‘Even murder,

was on .
the menu at the,
big blonde’s

scofflaw nitery

dustpan.

“Where'd you get that character?” inquired the
man from Albany. “He looks like some eS his
marbles are missing.”

“Him? Oh, that’s Limpy Wright,” Eva said. “He
ain’t crazy, but they sure skipped him when they
passed out the brains. I felt sorry for him—used
to know his old lady—so I gave him a job.” She
eyed the lame man reflectively as he swept up the
broken dishes. “He ain’t worth much. I guess
I'll be getting rid of him soon.”

= AS MIGHT BE surmised, Little Eva was a real
character, 41 years old, 172 pounds net, hard as
nails and out for anything she could get. A
divorcee, she was a Westerner from Washington
State and had drifted into Otsego County in 1928
to open the Woodbine Inn. At first it was merely
a roadside hash house, but Eva saw that there was
money to be made in violating the Volstead Act
and she soon expanded. At first she sold under-
the-counter bootleg hootch by the bottle. Then,
realizing it was much more profitable to sell it by
the drink than by the bottle, she converted her
place into one of the whoop-and-holler roadhouses
so common during the era. She had a marvelous
vocabulary of profanity, and her reputation in sur-
rounding towns was not of the best, but she cared
not at all about this so long as there were no com-
plaints and no shut-downs. Among her patrons
were traveling salesmen, wandering funsters and a
number. of gangsters and crooks who came up from
New York City or from their playground in the
Catskills.

It was in the spring of 1932 that a lame, seedy -
looking man knocked at the back door of the Wood-
bine Inn. Eva answered.

“J ain’t et for a whole day,” he said, tipping his
weatherbeaten hat. “Wondered if mebbe you could

21


COOK, Samuel ae Me GOREG wD y

Hanged for forgery, AToany (ovotanné Scena
o ° P2EPVRIO
Ltrdgted 11-30-1982 from Kenneth HI, MacFarland, Librarian

wry

Emeritus, Albany Institute of fatory and Art, Albany, s2
j L2?10
"Albany, NY: Nov. e2:Friday last the Court of
: Oyer & Terminer and Generzl Gaol Delivery held
at Johnstown for the County of Montgomery
closed. During its sitting samuel Cook was
tried and convicted for forging a sealdd instru-
ment respecting tne farm of the late samuel
Pittingal, deceased, in order to defraud his
representatives. His execution is ordered to
be at Jonnstown on the 7th day of December next."

GAZETTE ,- Boston, Mass,, 12-6-1790. (Hearn. )


Albany NY, June 27 - On Friday last was executed
at Johnstown pursuant to the sentence of the

Court of Oyer & Terminer held at that place for
the County of Montgomery in November last, SAMUEL
COOKE, for forgery. His execution had been twice
respited by His Excellency the Governor and on
account of his advanced age, (being in his eighty-
fourth year), it was pretty generally expected

that His Excellency would have finally reprieved
him.

The American Mereury 7-11-1791


y Ces ol e\

Nese

Albany NY, June 27 - On Friday last was executed
at Johnstown pursuant to the sentence of the

Court of Oyer & Terminer held at that place for
the County of Montgomery in November last, SAMUEL
COOKE, for forgery. His execution had been twice
respited by His Excellency the Governor and on
account of his advanced age, (being in his eighty-
fourth year), it was pretty generally expected
that His Excellency would have finally reprieved
him.

The Amertean Mercury 7-11-1791

Note: This is evidently that 'Cooke' about
which I sent you a vague account some
days ago cited as circa 1772.


OK P
Hanged, Joymstown, Fulton Coey Ne Ye

_ "The first to face the death penalty (in Fulton Co,) was
a man named Cook who was convicted of forging a $3,00 KEE
note to purfhase a pair of boots, He was tried in the
Courthouse under the Old English Law and King's Bench
rules and was sentenced to be "hanged until dead.' The
sentence caused quite a stir in the area as politics was
running high and objection to English Law and rule was
gaining momentum, The patriots threatened to rict and
declared that whosoever should enforce 'such an obnoxious
decree would be killed on sight.! The sheriff blaked in
the performance of his duties and for one pint of rum
hired an American Indian to be substitute for him, The
dangling noose was tied around Cook's neck ina clearing

sani ae ee Seeman
” : ;

west of the county sail, Suddenly the Savage gave & vila,
piercing whoop and the’ job’was done. He fled dekn a

wooded hillside south of the jail and was nevr heard fram
again," : |

THE UCENSTOM MEADER@HERALD, Johnstown, Now ork, May 2,


‘enuting,, passed throug Coon.® (to tars 1 Lee ?< peaebed<the acor saw
ato sinc PALI, a Dime With the axe. Con;

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sasvélaor Covinty. |

Yinker Miarder

fh or the: iaty jail ib thie city, ne dey

i Hiram ook, wad. hanged for the murder of Mra.’
‘ ry Laser, of Petersburgh, At thn advan ed
Why-oce veer tbe full meesnre of his
g-dolng was visited upon his head,

Yoid he died amaletactor’s death.

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} AM ie

© ehin $ ie

OF Tiiy-eme

sangult apom |

ot comoty, What}
heen 4
Ps ms iver ly all spent in wrongs |
aased the boundary line of:
veiled hy myilery, He

@ the pablicpalset his

THO4 HM, gos ane

Eide t
rite

sa PEM

BY 9
af Pe bere bury hk, iy: ty ny,
be Online here to be reme _— pron in wiih t
of ow Sabhaali 4 a LE ee
TOUT rnd ie eee i the
tion and execution i thes pie :
OF Le: Woe KS will stand’ “shy ny
oa ghd those disposed to attack t
‘character to iriday mayiting in vila 3
Jar trein of circumstancoe food’ for much ideal.
izing.. There are, four black, Fridays in ‘Hiram.
; bistory. It was on Friday, Oct. 19th,

edt

Lt BARy

on meted
aid

wey t b

‘ he

emitted Hele
Laker, ys a

t wea a ‘wily sot wp
to ‘hie whe a,  pidked up

oO nitadd

we ens we gavere blew,
door ea abi DIE Bet mufite tents

a fen iG
eyow ibe Wh i ae

oma dering ai¢

| iieeral features, and gi

iory of tihig aint coil

n ~ "You ean 1 sear
over r her at all,”’: Coon |
thing of, the kind, bat:

which :

Lubibe din Tine

' Ly

He RR aT wor aN

Da EE ee aes

pale Hn bad Me hind Went Ay
kas ee eet

‘ rh Rimi, bis BP

We ap A

ae F


O'Doonell sed Andrew Ball, w
| wimoltames asly Mareh 15, 1-40." (7 Tow-
nek ppitured tor the murder of Antaino Ratto, in

0 was at the Aer pation ob
wih eo Were |

e' Hife, Tie tae? tit the eed
head, it ae whe f. (an itauind hose
brow. grey to eecadky y  chmstewted, ‘ne: whoae
tate would be te die whi pnctiroed. and abth ought
of, save a8 the excitement produned fy euch ga:
event shotld trom tase time to. ied het Pecalted,
with a large-hearted phiiamtnepy on. the ‘part. Ce
some who shuddered ut thie’ capryttp dnt. oF the:

pha! sentence In any Chae, ms ek ‘We veo Binge

eee ee,

Ao

: sialon The Sheriff and
bien gy aeoymat. je-the tarry of p
cemsary: reir iesloga as
hig ompdte Out aod called
‘pttend” the executiod,
wrepgty applied tor adivia dex
a Morbid | durigsity, » polit ian!

turded ; spereewee ranping ind and out with
be Baw +

a! oe ao

hers

-becaine mde
any! (wore, ana Phe clerk i

hoe: are Sonera, wh
4, 1 + Cat. which Woe Hse



Sei ie alee

bep ont the crowd.
2 ‘ x ide rape, 4





ae AT ‘Ts — rrnA4 tea hancea la 2 + ify ry A ym) ? 62
COON, Hiram, white, hanged at Troy, NY, 3-22-1867,

LARGE C
COON, Hiram LAPCGH# CARD
to .eHiram Coon was hung at the jail (Troy, NY), on March
22, 1067, for the mivder of lirs, Henry Laker of Peters-
ourghe wee"

THs CLTY ,

\

fF TROY AND ITS rd ley Die

Pace 2h
Published 1886, a7, Greeny Troy, NY A
Mp2 7 S¢ ate
dhl pie | eed sac sige af
[0/19/18 CO AKL
WT) soe VELA Z efaet | } wi?
Sth fy Meech OT,



,BELLINI and COZZL, whites, elec. NY (M¥) July 13, 1932
“ 9 C

Die at Sing Sing :
‘Murder—-Killer -


He Gthys ‘to. Drink——$750 fs "
“Payroll te Stolen.

Seamer

Be ngehores received two bl oui

““@usions . yesterday: aera
the doctors attending him’ doubted
whether he could live throug® .Fv
> Er oe the two obbers and the vor
hole EO Te nities was killed
__Jyobber, still unidentt’ sein
Egidio Cozzi, 22, of
the Bronx, was

PATROLMAN SUCCUMBS.
| TO WOUND BY BANDIT

| Bernard Sherry Dies After Battle

in Which He Killed One Robber

~ and Shot Another.

Patrolman Bernard Sherry died
yesterday of wounds received: Friday
night when he interrupted a hold-up
in the Cave restaurant, 595. Third
Avenue. He shot and. killed one of
the panies
but .was hi
body. durin
who had acted
Place,escaped, ..

The wounded

Police :Commissioner
oe Ni te is wife was with him
ied yesterday noon. Sherry
was 32 hen old and lived at 24-16
Twenty-third Street, Astoria.

Patrolman Sherry. will receive an
inspector’s funeral, as-is custo

for policemen killed in the line of

duty. Mass wil] be celebrated by his

brother-in-law, the Rev. Joseph C.

Nowlen,. in. St. ; Vincent . Ferrer’s

Church, Lexingtan Avenue and Sixty-

sixth Street ednesday morning at

11 o'clock. Burial will be in Calvary

Cemetery. wie age pa

ber has not yet been

is wounded companion,

22, of 650 -East 191st

is in Bellevue Hos-

is not expected to

|


250 HISTORY OF THE CITY OF TROY,

December, 1864. More than sixty bishops and priests were present.
Archbishop McCloskey made the dedicatory address. Father Van
der Ende, of Ghent, Holland, was the first acting President of the
institution. It had for its territory nine dioceses, which included
all of New York, New England and New Jersey,

Until the twenty-seventh day of February, 1865, the Farmers’
Bank and the Bank of Troy, had been for more than half a century
186. the important financial institutions of the city. At that

time the stockholders entered into an arrangement for a
consolidation of the institutions, and adopted the title of the Uni-
ted National Bank of Troy. On the seventh day of March the
Bank was organized with the following officers: E. Thompson Gale,
President; William A. Shepard, Vice President ; Tracy Taylor,
Cashier. The first Directors were : E. Thompson Gale, J. M. War-
ren, John L, Thompsow, G. H. Cramer, Uri Gilbert, Alfonzo Bills,
Azro B. Morgan, N. B. Squires, Wm. A, Shepard, Alonzo McCon-
ihe, John Hobart Warren, Hanford \N. Lockwood and Thomas M.
Tibbits.

The One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Regiment returned home on
the eighth of June, and were welcomed with a splendid ovation.
The returning officers were: Joseph Hyde, Colonel; W. H. H.
Brainard, Major; James H. Hatch, Adjutant; W. S. Cooper, Sur-
geon; W. Akin, Assistant Surgeon; Ezra D, Simons, Chaplain ;
George W. Jenkins, Quartermaster.

The Troy & Albia Horse Railway Company was organized Janu-
1866,  2Y 3% 1866. The officers elected were : Edward O. Iaton,

President ; James S. Knowlson, Vice President; George B.
Warren, Secretary, and Joseph J. Tillinghast, Treasurer,

The Fenian invasion of the Canadian frontier, in 1866, received
considerable support from the Irish inhabitants of Troy. On the
first day of June a full company of one hundred men departed for
the seat of hostilities under the command of the following officers :
Captain, William O’Brien, formerly of the Second Regiment N.Y,
S. Volunteers; First Lieut., John Sullivan, of the 169th Regiment ;
Second Lieut., Thomas P. Laithe, of Cohoes, an old veteran.

The Fenian National Congress, on the fourth of September, con-
vened in Harmony Hall. A large number of delegates from vari-
Ous parts of the country were in attendance. F. G. Gallagher, of
Buffalo, was chosen President, and John C. O’Brien, of Rochester,
Clerk. On Sunday morning, Sept. 9, the Congress adjourned sine die,

sy
i?
a

(Hao trey yy ity ll fp flere

HISTORY OF TIE CITY OF TROY. 251

The Laureate Boat Club was organized June 19th, 1866. The
first officers were: President, W. H. Doughty ; Secretary and ‘Treas-
urer, ‘I.McCoun; Captain, J. A. Manning. ‘Trustees, W. H. Dough-
ty, A. Vail and E.R. Vail. ‘The Club consisted of twelve members,

‘The execution of Hiram Coon, for the murder of Mrs. Henry
Laker, of Petersburgh, took place in the jail on the 22d of
March, 1867.

‘The certificate of incorporation of the Troy Club was signed and
acknowledged on the twenty-seventh day of November, 1867. The
first managers of the society were: Jonas C. Heartt, John A. Gris-
wold, D. ‘Thomas Vail, E. ‘Thompson Gale, Joseph M. Warren, Geo.
H. Cramer, Uri Gilbert, William F, Burden, Joseph W. Fuller, Sam-
ucl M. Vail, John Hobart Warren, Miles Beach, Moses C. Green,
G. Parish Ogden and William A. Shepard. ‘The other officers were:
Jonas C. Heartt, President; FE. Thompson Gale, Vice President ;
Samuel M. Vail, Treasurer, and Thomas Buckley, Secretary. ‘The
spacious building on the north-west corner of Second and Congress
street, was purchased for the use of the Club, and was fitted up and
formally occupied on the 20th of January, 1868.

At the close of the year 1867, it was estimated that the value of
the buildings which had been erected during the previous twelve
months, exceeded $1,000,000,

In March, 1867, George A. Waters, being engaged in the manu-
facture of paper boxes, and having occasion to repair a wooden
single shell boat, undertook to do so by covering the cracks with
sheets of stout paper firmly cemented on the wood, and then finish-
ing the surface so formed with water-proof varnish. ‘lhe success of
this attempt led him, assisted by his father, Elisha Waters, to under-
take the experiment of making the entire skin of a light boat of
paper. Accordingly one was built by taking a wooden shell thirteen
inches wide and thirty feet long, as a mould, and covering the en-
tire surface of its bottom and sides with small sheets of strong ma-
nilla paper glued together, and superposed on each other, so that
the joints of one layer were covered by the middle of the sheet im-
mediately above, until a shell of paper had been formed one-six-
teenth of an inch in thickness. The fabric thus constructed, after
being carefully dried, was removed from the mould and fitted up
with a suitable frame. ‘The surface was then carefully made water-
proof with suitable varnishes and the work was complete. ‘The boat
was tested on the river in the latter part of May, 1867, and was

1867.

= “
«

Taey fildtitur A Gpeaeg aud 46) (89

=!


COON, Hiram

Coon, a Sl-year-old white man, had live practically all of his life
in Petersburgh, Rensselaer COooy N.Y, He had been married Several
times and had served a prison term for. bigamy as well as one for &

five vears following a brutal assault on 4 deputy sheriff, He was

with Mr, and Mrs, Laer and their three children, There was & mutahl
dislike hetween Coon and Mrs, Laker ang she was evidently dissatisfig,
with having tho Coons on the place, On the evening of Cct, 19, 1866,
&@S they sat eating, Coon made a Temark about the meal Which Mrs, La.
ker answered By Stating that it Was toom good for him as he was only
a "jail bird." Caan went outside to the woocshed, got an axe and
returned to the Kitchen, When Mrs. Laker saw the Weapon in his hand,
sheretreated towards a panty but Coon Struck her in the center of

the head, imbedding the blade in her Skul] and then Struck her with
the blunt end of the axde Laker, who Claimed that he dig not see

the weapon until the blow was Struck and was Consequently unable to
intervene, ordered him to leave Without realizing how Seriously his
wife was injured, Coon fled to NEKXXX Hoosick where he Was taken into

custody on October 26, the same day that Hrs. taker died after pein
hospitalizaed for a wee''. Convicted and sentenced 0 die, an effort
was made to have the Governor commute the Sentence but he refused to
intervene, Before his execution, Coon made a Statement in which he
Said that Laker had veen having an affair with his wife and that,
Laker had actually killed Mrs, Laker and attenpted to all him, 7
was hanged in the jail at Troyy Ne Ye, on March 22, 1667. His neck
Was not broken ty the fall as the knot slipped behind the neck and
he died of Strangulation over a 10 minute period of time, -

PROY DAILY TIMES, Troy, N. Yes March 22, 1867

Natioriat Yoliar Gagll 1/-3 CECE, fog Om»

irs, Henry I ife of hi
1866<Hiram Coon assaulted tirs, Henry Laker, the wife of
ie Waren sesbudat Rennselaer County with an axe on Friday nigh:
aa + VES OY ey wwebLe ts 4 ty gy me UAL Ada : ~c
employer, in Petersburgh, ie ( y 7 J net
eer auiedas throush the skull and into she brain, She will die, Th
rurderer escaped," TIMES, Nev York, 1O+23-1866 (1-67)
t > |


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SLAIN POLICEMAN BURIED. ’

; Sherry, Shot In. Hold-Up, ‘Honored
i} With Inspector’s Funeral.

to the
en Order tm this

ae

| Baccano es

oaby| of the New. York tage, reheateed |
- [the starring role in. Bow’s pio: |
ture. “Weasley > Hommel,


rite
43

i

TO ENFORCE FUR CON :
Joint Council Demands Strict Ad-|
»| “herence te) Pay: greements..’

Er

M
ceived

if
ate

f
‘

i
H
uf
;
|

7 tyes Ti
‘What Am I Worth Today | |
Do your investments fluctuate so much that: ‘
entl, | 0 | you are always asking yourself that ques eat |
42 Vice Consuls Took Part If a large share of. your capital is in such” a
securities you undoubtedly do not know from \

in Staten Island Riot. Wa
. ae " peas fete | | (day to day just what your resources are.

a |

Oerich the war bas.
ner ssid. reparations

tion

- . on ’
od

aT rh ee


Ya“

=" ELECTRIC CHAIR and Sing
‘Sing will cease to be synonym-
‘ous next month. ‘'The chair,”
as it-is frequently called, will
e Yemoved from the Ossining
and taken 50 miles up-

state to Green Haven Prison
jin Dutchess County. Moving

‘ ated

day for fhe chair will also
mean moving day for Arman-

do Conssentino, the only pris- .

oner -now confined to Sing
Sing’s death house, Conssenti-
no, a convicted murderer, will

- also be moved to the upstate

maximum security prison. —
Staff photo by Ted Neuhoff.

after — both he and Sing Sing’s

State. cg tate os

_as a reception center and as a

. their terms. ‘Since 1891, its elec-
_ tric chair has also been the site

" formed in the. state. 2...

. quently said it was considering

ee 7 earris 2 Bs Sher ”

a. “Along With Electric Chair

acess Sere) COMES URE!

pint of more

"Coonieeting: Ween state d
murderer; is today the only. pris-
oner on Sing. Sing’s death. row.

On Sept. 3 — or shortly, there-

electric chair will be moved to
Green Haven Prison, a maxi-
mum security: institution in
Dutchess County’s Stormville..

The move is one of the first
steps in the state’s tentative
plan to transform 139-year-old
Sing Sing into a reception center
for ree ee Zork

At the moment it is ‘aed both

place where. felons. can serve

of all 614 legal executions per-

Although the: state has fre-

transferring’ Sing Sing’s func-
tions — or closing it down en-
ay —— the move that will be-
riext’ month. has. as its.
forsee cause the impending)
construction of the: proposed
Hudson River Expressway. . ~
As part of the, ,groundwork: for
the proposed expressway, all the
prison ‘buildings’ on.. the. river
side of the Penn-Central railroad
tracks — including the death
house and the “industry shops”

Murderer “On I Death

are s vale “. y eke

celerating part of the “gtate’s|

—. wil] be demolished, thus ac-

long-tange plan for Sing Sing.':
As recently as 1963, as many
as 18 men were confined in the
death house. Only one of. a
however, was ever executed. .
The: last execution took lace
Aug. .15, 1963 when Eddie Lee
Mays walked Sing Sing’s famed
“last mile’’-— which, ironically,
is actually a short corridor.
Prison officials decline to give
out information about Conssenti-
no other than to say he was con-
victed for a 1962 murder. They
say his case is currently under

appeal, and they.express doubt

that he will ever be executed’ —
either at ome Sing. or at Green
Haven... * a ie

Part of the ‘yeason for the de-
cline in executions is, of course,
the 1965 revision of the state’s
penal law which allows execu-
tion only in the case of preme-
diated murder of law, enforce-
ment officers.. i

Even: before the - law's pavik
sion,’ however, a. strong public
outcry ‘against capital punish-
ment had resulted in a ,marked
reduction in the number. of exe-
cutions.  .\_ °

The state’s plan ioe the reha-
bilitation of Sing. Sing is still in
the talking stage. As currently
envisioned, it would’ require a
$30 million appropriation which
is expected to be considered by
this winter’s session of the wate

PAUSUST 2 27, 1969!

i ae:
ception -center,. Sing sing’ :
mate population: would .
from’ the current ‘level of.
proximately 1,200 bd betweeh:
and 500 prisoners." ws RENE
‘All prisoners committed” ‘iy
the courts. would then spe
about six’ weeks in Sing Sing. be
fore being transferred to one of
the other prisons in’ the’ State.
system... rer
Although . the fabled sing ‘Sag
death house has seen no exect::
tions in more than six years,’ ig,
thrice witnessed more than 20 in,
a single: year. — , in 1912, 1938"
and 1944. Te will, it is clear, ners.
er witness another one. apps AE
Within: .a~ few ‘months,’ Sing's
Sing’s death row: will have gone”
the way of the‘old Metropolitan?
Opera House; the old Madison:
Square Garden and other more -
pleasant landmarks.’ “yk
Ang Armando Conssentino and
the small wooden chair with ‘the-
rubber backrest -and seat ‘will!
have been moved to a 20-year: ;
old prison 50 miles UP. the Hud.

4, . Sty aes
son. Spgs Sk ond, Fis See td

legislature... 70.) °. fo


4 oh % 7 6, parte

d od a og 3 17

CONSTANTINO, Guiseppe, white, elec. Auburn Prison Sune 22, 1897


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A a
vs

ma


COO, Eva, white, elec. NY@ (Otsego) June 27
3 9 5 f

oo

m It was a bright early summer afternoon and things were
slow at the little roadhouse in upper New York State. Eva,
the proprietress, known for three counties around as “Little
Eva,” a sporting commentary on her 170-pound frame, got
up from the rickety chair behind the bar and shuffled over
to the door and looked out. = 4
Most of her customers were farmers and on a fine day
like this the fields and orchards got all their attention.
Only when the last cow in the county. got watered and
fed would she get her first customer. She looked down to
the end of the porch where Gimpy, her handyman, was
busy painting the: front of the building. “When you're fin-
ished there, Gimpy, we’re going to take a little ride.”
4 Gimpy put down his brush and looked at her with dis-
tinct pleasure. y
“Would you like that?” she asked.
“Sure,” Gimpy said.

INSIDE DETECTIVE,

May, 1952.

Pd

Undaunted by murder charge facing

her, Little Eva, enjoyed full meal.

“Better than that, we'll take a little picnic lunch along.
Just you, me and Jane. We're going to dig up some shrubs
... you know, bushes .. . You know I always wanted some
bushes growing in front‘along there by the road.”

Gimpy nodded. It was the first he’d heard of it, but he
was agreeable. The front yard had a fine covering of old
bottle caps, cigaret butts and candy wrappers and he’d
always figured Eva planned it that way. ‘

“You get on with your’ painting,” she said. “We'll be
ready in about an hour.”

Gimpy nodded and went back to his brush and paint
pail.... 5

The year was 1934 and the country was a couple of years
out of Prohibition, but Evangeline Coo’s rural establishment,
not far from Cooperstown, N. Y., was everything the op-
ponents of repeal had predicted—a rough and ready bawdy
house where, the rumor ran, a man could quench other

paps

fires than si:
might belie
man would |
a rasping vo
her smile. T}
Nevertheless
despite its d
The detail
casionally re
few of her cl

‘older than |

six months,
going to Ev:
down and v
insurance m
a while, but
in Otsego C


ich along.
ne shrubs
nted some

it, but he
ing of old
and he’d

“We'll be
and paint

le of years
iblishment,
ig the op-
idy bawdy
nch other

Little Eva’s
_ Lay-Away

of booze he could consume and even against his cheerful-
ness itself. , :

She got tired of paying
out and decided to try
collecting for a change,
even if it meant murder

by JAY WILLIAMS

fires than simple thirst. The first sight of Eva, however,
might belie the rumor. Besides her weight and girth, a
man would have to contend with a pair of hard blue eyes,
a rasping voice and a face that could be marred only by
her smile. There were fancier pleasures to be had in town.
Nevertheless, Eva’s place had become an institution and,
despite its drawbacks, attracted a loyal clientele.

The details about Eva Coo’s past were meagre. She oc-
casionally referred to a husband (slightingly), but only a
few of her close friends knew that he had been a man much
‘older than herself and that they had been divorced after
six months, with a house and handsome cash settlement
going to Eva. Shortly after the divorce, the house burned
down and with not so much as a tear, Eva had put the

insurance money into a small farm. She ran the farm for ~

a while, but, with repeal, sold it and bought the roadhouse
in Otsego County.

Eva and her friends were certain that she had found her

true profession. She ran the tavern with the help of who-

_ ever happened to be her boyfriend at the time. And in those

lean years, a boyfriend -was. assured to any woman who
could provide him With three meals a day and all the gin
he could drink from the bar.

Eva also kept a hired man to do the sweeping out, the
mopping up and other menial chores about the place. And
although he too was expected to work for very little more
than bread and beer, she complained constantly about the
expense. Her hired man of the moment was Harry Wright,
a-wispy, dried-up little. man well gone in the teeth and in
one leg and known the county round as Gimpy. Gimpy also
was known to be a little gone in the head, which accounted
for his perennially cheerful countenance that persisted in
the face of all Eva’s rages against his laziness, the amount

» “You're no damned good, Gimpy,” Eva used to yell at
“him when she caught him wiping a fleck of foam away
from his:stubble. “I could-get a whole man for what you
cost me.’ q :

Gimpy’s reply was never anything more than a good
natured grin for he seemed certain that at heart Eva loved
him like a mother should. But Eva’s complaint about the
expense of maintaining Gimpy was, in part, a fear that he
might some day cost her a great deal more. She’d had an
unfortunate experience with Gimpy’s immediate pred-

~ ebessor. Like Gimpy, he had to be up early in the morning

to carry out the broken glass and the cigaret butts and he
wasn’t allowed’ a moment’s rest until the last customer had
been ‘hustled out of the door, also early in the morning.
But unlike Gimpy, he hadn’t always suffered her tantrums
in silence, occasionally he had the temerity to answer back.
T was after one of these ill-advised occasions that they
found the handyman dead. There had been all sorts of

' trouble—a doctor to: pay, the cost of having someone carry

him off and bury hirn and the nastiness of having to answer
to the county authorities who made inquiries. Although

‘they had concluded that there was no evidence that the

handyman had died as a result of any foul play, Eva would -

“have felt better about it if she had been compensated for

the trouble he had caused her. But among the bundles of
old clothes and junk that constituted his worldly belongings
they hadn’t found a penny.

For many evenings after that, Eva had stood behind the

bar, her fat arms trembling with injustice, haranguing her
customers with the details of what it had cost her. “It ain’t
right,” she muttered over and over. “T ought to do some-
thing.”
_ Even when she had replaced the handyman with Gimpy
she brooded about it. “What I ought to do,” she told her
closest friend, a pretty thing of less than thirty whom we'll
call Jane and who spent most evenings and many afternoons
at the roadhouse, “is to make sure I don’t get stuck again.
I dught to take out insurance on Gimpy so’s when his time
comes I don’t go broke.”

After a few days of brooding, she had accosted Gimpy.
“You got any insurance, Gimpy?”

Gimpy, who wasn’t quite sure what insurance was, felt
safe in saying he hadn't.

“From now on you're gonna have it,” Eva told him. “Tt
something happened to you what would you do?”

Gimpy allowed that he didn’t know and Eva pointed out
that she would have to take care of him. A few days later

continued on page 41

OTE RM TTT Te aca ene

39


_

a policy on
beneficiary. E
for the perso:
seeing as how
month, she’d
Then came
he would pay
“How?” Ev
“TI got a litt
Eva learne:
Gimpy had a
the following
insurance rat
Gimpy ran t
fell on Eva.
This did no
time, she wa
more dead th
fraught with
And a happy
Gimpy was it
days, and th:
would leave |}
The wheels

5 Ee we ei AOS ry

Game almost to the end, Eva joined in recreation of the courtroom drama where sh


; Te a ee Peaceful surroundings belied violence of a death here.
a policy on Gimpy’s life was taken out, naming Eva the — 2: pear O'S pene ry
beneficiary. Eva pointed out to Gimpy that it was customary Stages 7s SSE et? *
for the person who was insured to pay the premiums, but iggy,
seeing as how he wasn’t earning enough to meet them each | §
month, she’d. help ‘him out. aE KG aa
_ Then came an unexpected bonanza: Gimpy told her, that .
he would pay for them: Cee
“How?” Eva asked. - ‘ Nea \ EP aN stants 3
“I got a little saved up,” Gimpy told her.: , es
Eva learned that you find riches. in unexpected ‘places.
Gimpy had a bank account with a few dollars’ in it and, in
the following few months, he paid the premiums with it. But
insurance rates on old. soaks run high and, before long,  -
Gimpy ran through ‘his little nest egg and the burden /@
fell on Eva. : ae neh ee ee.
This did nothing to endéar him to-her and, within a short
time, she was muttering to Jane that Gimpy was worth
more dead than alive. Every time she said it the air was
fraught with the unspoken solution to the whole problem.
And a happy solution it would be, of course, seeing ,that
Gimpy was insured for $10,000, a whopping sum in those
days, and the expenses connected—with Gimpy’s passing
would leave her a tidy bit for her troubles: ~ 2 aes
The wheels in Eva’s head might (Continued on page 69)

A *

rative,, Eva waved to photogs on entering Sing

4

7 Grim, buk.coope

Sing ii.
Little Eva’s —
Lay-Away

Plan

. wal

ored

41


2 Shear five years
fore lopping off
had told Olive,

o drunk. Besides,

1ildish enough to

r handwriting on

300k.”

Eva, rather than
had often been
“I've seen her

rt him, many a

rishing a mallet,

for Harry when

I don’t know if

heriff. I was en-

ut not at Eva’s

n even dredged
ressed for funds
were overdue,
n but also on
she owned. A
ifided to Sheriff
had come into
‘ounts with his
years ago. Un-
‘gement it had
idition, a small
id burned down
a had promptly
fire insurance
at her crippled
old the lot on
id stood.
1934—six days
-Eva Coo was
lift was finally
/unty seat also.
it, state police
Woodbine Inn.
n in Coopers-
ier innocence,
that this out-
i her, Ernie
cause her pet
rve or die of

and watered
and compre-
{ the edited
and scarred
{ and shabby
i this hat as
e€ owned, the
him at 6:30
en Ernie last

enetrated to
Dlace and
ice policies.
lary, these
tal of near-
fe if he had
ne highway
indemnity,
swap her
amount of

sedan’s rear
sive, Martha
ndisputable
In a brutal
ndoned her

ell. Brady
trict Attor-
f her part

vn of Eva’s
Eva weigh
Jetting rid
i admitted
Knight se-
nd Eva as
i. she had
e. beyond
intain at
ening.
If major
she her-
ide while
not once
ite form.

On Thursday, June 21st, three days after
its interment, Wright’s body was exhumed.
For purposes of reenacting the murder it
was taken at dusk up the winding dirt road
to the haunted house on Crumhorn. At first
Grant, the district attorney, elected to play
the part of the victim. Leaving the car, he
walked down the driveway of the Scott
Place beside Eva, just as she claimed that
she and Harry had walked almost exactly
a week ago. Martha Clift started the car,
bore down upon them.

Afterward Eva took the wheel and
brought the car back to the point where,
she said, it had stood all the time that Mrs.
Fink and the two others were up there.
Eva and Martha agreed that Harry Wright's
recently shattered remains lay under the
murder car all the while that Eva gracious-
ly engaged the vigilant landowner and her
companions in conversation, even insisting
that they make certain the sedan’s interior
contained no plunder.

To top off the reenactment, and score a
first in all the annals of the macabre, Harry
Wright’s poor, broken body, clad in a suit
of borrowed clothes, was brought from the
undertaker’s vehicle and allowed to imper-
sonate itself. That is, it was scrupulously
placed in the various positions in which
one or both of the accused women declared
that it had rested.

In spite of so much horror, both women
stuck to their contradictory versions of the
slaying. Each, in fact, showed herself so
strikingly insensitive to the ghastly Crum-
horn operation that case-hardened crime
investigators were appalled.

On the 22nd the district attorney who
would prosecute her had a crisp, decisive
interview with Martha Clift. He had prom-
ised her a degree of immunity, since, obvi-
ously, she had stood to gain little or nothing
from this savage crushing out of a pathetic
cripple’s life. But she was lying; she would
lose her immunity, he warned her.

Martha came around and told what was
eventually to be substantiated as the truth
of the matter:

On the 14th, on their way to the haunted
Scott place in the rented sedan, Eva Coo
had made Harry Wright crouch down be-
cause she said they were going to steal
Mrs. Fink’s shrubs and Harry, the digger,
mustn’t let himself be seen. Eva was always
the practical one. Hadn’t she waited for
this moment until her handyman-victim
had finished painting her summer bunga-
lows? Hadn’t she trumped up an excuse to
talk Harry out of his projected business
negotiation at Johnson’s?

And there was more. Eva had brought
along her mallet. She had saved the gray
cloth cap for this very emergency. A Wood-
bine Inn patron, obliged by an irate wife
to flee in ill-clad haste, had neglected to
take the cap and other articles of apparel
with him. Nor had he ever called back for
them. Eva had assured Martha that leav-
ing the gray cap would add a touch of
mystery and masculine participation to the
accident scene near the inn with which they
were to conclude their evening’s outing.

In the Scott driveway, Eva had contrived
to walk the limping Harry Wright directly
into the path of the sedan. And Martha in-
sisted that, once she had started and aimed
the car, she grew too nervous to stop or
slow down. Harry, however, had sensed,
then whirled and seen his danger. He tried
to dart aside to safety. But Eva had antici-
pated just such an impediment to her plot.
She had brought the mallet.

Swinging it harshly, she struck Harry
on the temple, knocking him right in front
of the car. It went over him.

Martha drove on, turned around behind
the haunted house, came back. Harry was

hardier than Eva expected. He wasn’t dead.
He had looked up into Eva’s cruel face,
whispered, “Now I know why you brought
me up here!”

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Eva barked at Martha, a peremptory
command! Again the sedan rolled on and
over the victim.

The two women, using an old blanket
brought for this very purpose and later
disposed of, had lifted the little handy- ,
man’s corpse into the back of the sedan.
But not until after long minutes of incred!
ible, racking suspense, while Eva chatted
with Mrs. Fink.

Subsequently, on approaching Woodbine
Inn, the two had again used the blanket in
lifting Harry’s body out and depositing it
in the roadside ditch, as evidence of an
alleged accident, at the very point which
Eva had selected in advance.

Eva and Martha were indicted separately
on June 28th by the Otsego County grand
jury. Eva Coo was charged with first-
degree homicide; and because of the cal-
lous, greedy motive and the base and brutal
method of the crime, feeling ran high
against her in the county and far beyond.

From her Cooperstown cell Eva began
issuing threats. She announced that she
“had a lot on” prominent citizens who,
unknown to wives and families, had en-
joyed the facilities of her roadhouse. But
she retained eminent defense counsel also,
former Judge Everett B. Holmes and James
J. Byard, and these gentlemen did not en-
courage their client’s blackmailing.

Eva Coo was of Canadian birth. But she
had come to live and operate in Oneonta,
dispensing, among other things, bootleg
liquor before the 1933 Repeal. Then public
resentment had induced her to move well
outside of city limits, whereupon shady
Woodbine Inn had begun to flourish wick-
edly. It was said that Eva had been long
since divorced by a Canadian husband, a
trusted employee of the Canadian Pacific
Railroad, and that he was now remarried.

Her trial began on August 13th, 1934,
with Supreme Court Justice Riley H. Heath

presiding. It was the first murder trial to
be held in Cooperstown in 13 years.

District Attorney Grant prosecuted ef-
fectively; and all of 72 witnesses were
heard. Defense counsel labored manfully,
but in vain. The jurors deliberated for only
two hours on September 6th, returned a
guilty verdict; and Justice Heath pro-
nounced sentence at once. Death in the
electric chair.

Only minutes later Martha Clift pleaded
guilty to murder in the second degree and
was given a sentence of 20 years to life.
Since her release the public has heard
nething more from her.

Eva Coo sat in the death house in Sing
Sing Prison, being distinguished by assign-
ment to the same cell which the notorious
murderess, Ruth Snyder, had once occu-
pied. Eva had stopped issuing threats. Her
good humor and optimism seemed all but
invincible. To the end she hoped to be
spared the death penalty. But each of her
appeals was denied.

On the evening of June 27th, 1935, one
year and 13 days after the crushing to
death of Harry Wright, Eva Coo walked the
last mile. Even when seated in the electric
chair, she maintained her poise and aplomb.
To the prison matrons who escorted her she
called, “Goodbye, darlings!”

She had lived a tough life and she died
a tough death; and those at the end who
saw Eva embracing her bitter fate spoke
well of this cruel woman’s courage. © @@

{

EpiTor’s Nore |
The names, Lottie James. Ernie Tatum |
and Olive Brooks, as used in the fore-
going story, are not the real names of |
the persons concerned. These persons
have been given fictitious names to pro-
tect their identities,


New York
State's

HERE ARE a lot of people in up-
state New York—people who
i were in their teens and twenties
at the time—whose memories to this day
play curious tricks when they recall the
murder case that made national headlines
in their area for more than a year: They
think of it as “The Sports Page Murder
Case.”
Some continue to insist, “It’s the only
murder case that ever happened that was
featured in the sports sections of papers

by HENRY HANEY

* Cops questioned Eva Coo about “unusual” relationship with employe Harry Wright

all over the country at the time.”

The truth is somewhat different. In the
downstate metropolitan dailies, and in
the newspapers in Albany, the state
capital, news stories of the sensational
murder appeared in the general news sec-
tions, generally beginning on page 1 and
continuing on the inside pages, with a
lavish display of photos pertaining to the
investigation.

The connection with sports is well
founded, however, for the actual killing

Case Of The

occurred almost at the very moment that
the world’s heavyweight boxing title was

changing hands—the night Max Baer, the

so-called “Clown Prince of Pugilism,”
demolished the “Italian Behemoth,”
Primo Carnera. A further sports link was
established when the accused killers were

brought to trial in the county seat of

Otsego County, Cooperstown, where
Abner Doubleday invented baseball and
which is now the site of the Baseball Hall
of Fame.

The case began ona curious note, when
State Trooper Bill Cadwell received a
report on the disappearance of a local
handyman named Harry Wright.
Cadwell knew Wright. Yet he didn’t think
it odd that someone should be worried
enough about the handyman to report
him missing when he had been unac-
counted for only a few hours. Wright was
aman in his middle years, but he was also
a cripple, and his occasional habit of let-
ting booze get the better of him was a sort
of open secret. :

The person who had reported him mis-
sing was Mrs. Eva Coo, Wright's
employer and benefactor, who owned
the Woodbine Inn, a notorious roadhouse
in the town of Schenevus, population
then around 400 souls. Schenevus is on the
Maryland-Oneonta road outside the
Oneonta city limits, about 20 miles from
the county seat.

Eva Coo, a brassy broad who fancied

herself as another Texas Guinan, ran a raffish

roadhouse that catered to big shots interested in

clandestine love trysts. She often bragged that .

a lot of “important people” owed her some big favors,
and she was probably right, but they all ran like
bandits when the cops hit Eva with a murder rap . . .

32

TRUE DETECTIVE, July, oS 7

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In that first call to the State Police, Mrs.
Coo wondered if there had been any
reports of an accident on the roads near
her place, thinking perhaps that Harry
might have been injured and taken to a
hospital. But as there were no accidents,
Trooper Caldwell drove over to the Inn
to do some checking. He learned that
Harry Wright had left the place around 7
p.m. to consult someone about a painting
job. Apparently he had never arrived at
his destination, Mrs. Coo had learned.

The trooper found the Woodbine Inn

~

se *

was having a rather slow night when he
arrived there. The only persons in the
place besides the owner were Bob Jillson,
a local farmhand, and Lottie James, iden-
tified as “an entertainer.”

Eva Coo, the proprietress, was a big,
blue-eyed, brash and brazen bleached-
blonde type cast in the Texas Guinan
mold. Quite obviously she patterned her
looks, hair styling and wardrobe after the
notorious “Hello Sucker” nightclub
hostess of the rapidly fading Prohibition
Era, just as younger females of the period

“of

When slain Harry Wright's body was exhumed at cemetery, police noted that a date had been altered on his tombstone

us Blonde

were currently copying the looks and
mannerisms of Jean Harlow, a more
recently famous sex symbol of the silver
screen. Eva Coo reveled in her reputation
as a “bad influence” in Otsego County,
and her Inn’s reputation was just as shady
as hers. It was widely rumored, however,
that she and her establishment enjoyed
the favor and protection of powerful
friends in high places.

On that soft, summery night of Thurs-
day, June 14, 1934, however, business at
the Inn was at a standstill. Jillson, the

| THE BEST OF TRUE DETECTIVE

No. 15 in TD’s Golden Anniversary Series |

BE sae


sedate bagi

“stays

At her trial, according to reporters, Eva (r.) acted more lik

farmhand, was the only customer; he said
he’d dropped by for a few beers and to
listen to the big fight broadcast on the
radio. Eva repeated what she had told
Trooper Cadwell on the telephone. It was
clear that she thought her none too able-
bodied handyman was probably off
somewhere on a bender, but. she dis-
played genuine concern for the guy.
After learning as much as he could
about the handyman, Cadwell left the
Inn, heading for Oneonta, but he had
driven only a short distance down the
highway when his headlights picked out a
crumpled form in the high grass along the
roadside. He had wrapped up his missing
person case far sooner than he'd ex-

Evidence in murder trial included a Bible, m

pected. He’d found Harry Wright only a
few hundred yards from the Inn where he
worked and lived.

But Harry was not drunk, as everyone
had thought. He was dead.

Cadwell drove back to the inn to use
the phone to call a doctor. Eva Coo and
the two others there were distraught at
the news of Harry’s death. They accom-
panied Cadwell back to the roadside
scene, where they presently were joined
by Dr. Earl C. Winsor.

Harry Wright lay on his back in a
shallow ditch about 10 feet off the con-
crete highway. His face was disfigured
by smears of dried blood and bruises.
The trooper voiced the thought that he’d

allet, cap and an old felt hat

; «/ ¥
e showbiz star than person fac

g ve IK / Spe

ing possible execution

been hit by a car, and the doctor, as he
began ‘his on-scene examination of the
body, agreed. Hovering close by, her
face ashen under her heavy makeup, Eva
Coo fought back the tears.

Dr. Winsor, finishing his preliminary
examination, estimated Harry had been’
dead about three hours, which would
make the time of death about 8:30 p.m.
“He appears to have died from a crushed
chest,” Winsor said. “The ribs are caved
in and, I believe, both shoulders are frac-
tured. There’s air in the tissue—what we
call askin crepitus—so he wasn't killed in-
stantly.”

Trooper Cadwell, examining the
roadway with his flashlight, could find no
skid marks, which led him to comment
sadly, “Whoever hit old Harry didn’t even
bother to slow down.”

“Harry wasn't so old!” Eva ‘Coo
snapped, her tone curiously harsh, as
though defending her employe.

“Here's his cap,” Cadwell said sudden-
ly from a point in the ditch about 20 yards
from the body.

Mrs. Coo disagreed, insisting the head-
piece held by the officer was no cap of
Harry’s. She said he had only one hat, a
beat-up fedora, which was all he ever
wore. Lottie James and Bob Jillson
agreed with this, which prompted the
trooper to say he'd better keep the cap; it
might be animportant piece of evidence.

When the body was removed, Eva and
Lottie returned to the Inn, where Lottie
wondered aloud whether Ernie Tatum
was okay. Ernie was the one

permanent—and non-paying—guest at
the Inn. Apparently Eva was too fond of

the man to evict him, but apparently, too,

the only real love in his life was for the

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the Woodbine Inn, where she became
known for sadistic traits such as giving
Limpy a hotfoot. It was also said that
when she was out driving she derived
pleasure from deliberately running
down dogs and chickens rather than
trying to avoid them.

Even after the stories told by Mar-
garet Burrows and Abner Bossert, Lit-
tle Eva insisted that they were lying
and she was innocent. She pleaded not
guilty when she appeared for trial be-
fore Judge Riley H. Heath in Coopers-
town, N. Y., on August 13, 1934. The
sordid cruelty of the crime had aroused
the entire state—indeed it became one
of the most celebrated cases in the na-
tion—and the courtroom was jammed
with people who eyed the fat, bleached~
blonde defendant with loathing. It
didn’t bother Eva in the least. She
chewed gum placidly as she watched
the proceedings with detached interest.

Margaret Burrows appeared as .a
witness against her, telling the court
how the slaying was planned and ex-
ecuted. Abner Bossert likewise told
his story. Scores of other witnesses took
the stand in a trial that lasted a full
three weeks, most of them piling up
evidence against Eva. a

“Ryverybody’s lying about me,” she
said to a newspaperwoman. “Looks
like I'll go to the hot seat.”

She was right. She had not a single
friend in the courtroom other than her
own attorneys, and a jury of farmers
took a scant two hours to find her
guilty of what the prosecutor described
as “one of the most fiendish murders
since the beginning of time.” She was
condemned to die in the electric chair.

Not even those dreaded words made
her flinch. As she was led from the
courtroom, she stopped to kiss Mar-
garet Burrows on the cheek. ,

“God bless you, Margaret,” she said.
“J don’t hold no grudge against you.”

Mrs. Burrows, who was allowed to
plead guilty to second degree murder,
drew a sentence of 20 years to life.
Bossert, because of the aid he gave the
state’s case, was freed.

Little Eva appealed her case, but
lost. As she awaited her doom in the
death house at Sing Sing prison, her
iron stoicism astonished guards and
newspapermen alike. June 27, 1935, was
her‘date to travel to eternity. When two
prison matrons came for her that morn-
ing, she greeted them calmly.

“Well, goodbye, darlings,” she said to
them. “I won’t be seeing you no more.”

Then Little Eva Coo went to the
chair without a quiver.

Eprtor’s Nore: The names Abner
Bossert and Margaret Burrows, as used
in this narrative, are fictitious.

WISCONSIN’S ‘‘NUDE FROLIC’? MURDER SCANDAL

with the county clerk in Appleton, he
learned that McCarty had transferred
the title of his property to Wenzel Ka-
bat on September 14. That was just
two days before Cora Farnsworth and
Crawford vanished in the bay.

“That, may explain it,” Smith said
to Clauson. “After McCarty sold his
farm and went to Green Bay, it’s prob-
able that Mrs. Farnsworth told him
she wasn’t interested in him any more,
or that he learned about her infatua-
tion for Crawford in some other way.
That would naturally have been a
shock to McCarty. He may well have
been so broken up about it that he
decided to go away for awhile.”

That was a possibility, true enough,
and yet Clauson was still worried. He
next went to the bank in Kaukauna
where McCarty kept his account.
There he spoke with the cashier, Jo-
seph Sonnerberg, who was an old
friend. Sonnerberg, who also knew
McCarty well, looked into the records.
McCarty had made neither any de-
posits nor any withdrawals for al-
most six weeks. A tidy sum still re-
mained in his account. .

“The thing I can’t figure out,” Clau-
son said, “is what Mike did with all
that money. He got $18,000 for his
farm on September 14, and he told me
he was getting it all in cash. Mike’s

not the sort who would run off with

$18,000 in his pocket.”

Sonnerberg agreed it was most
peculiar. After some more discussion
he called the sheriff’s office in Apple-
‘ton, seat of Outagamie County in
which Kaukauna is located, and re-

lated the facts. The sheriff replied that

(Continued from page 7)

there wasn’t much to go on but that
an effort would be made to locate Mc-
Carty.

Next morning, two deputies called at
the former McCarty farm and talked
with the new owner, Wenzel E. Kabat.
Kabat, a tall, strapping, pleasant man
of 25, seemed surprised at their quer-
ies. He said he had not seen McCarty
since Wednesday evening, September
13. That evening, he added, McCarty
had signed the deed and bill of sale
which had been prepared by an Apple-
ton attorney, and collected his $18,000.

“He lit out of here real fast after he
got the money,” Kabat said. “He told
me he was anxious to get in to Green
Bay and marry some woman there.
He left. some of his clothes and per-
sonal things here—said he would be
back after them—but they’re still
waiting here for him.”

“Did you pay him the $18,000 in
cash or by check?” —

“In cash, every cent of it. It was
money I’d saved for years.”

McCarty had had a hired man, Steve
Rumley, to help him work the farm.
Rumley had remained and was now
working for Kabat. The deputies ques-
tioned Rumley, but he had not been
present on the night of the 13th and
could tell them little: The neighbors all
spoke well of McCarty, who had been
an industrious farmer and a friendly
man. Prosperous, likeable, he had had
plenty of chances to marry but seemed
to take no interest in the local girls.
It was when he met Cora Farnsworth,
a woman of education, refinement and
strong physical attraction, that he be-
came a changed man. After that he

seemed to lose interest in his farm,
leaving most of the work to Rumley
while he spent much of his time court-
ing Mrs. Farnsworth in Green Bay.

A check at the county clerk’s office
in Appleton disclosed that Kabat had
brought in the deed and bill of sale to
be recorded. Both had been signed in
McCarty’s own hand and everything
seemed to be in perfect order.

Since McCarty had planned to marry
the widow at once, inquiries were made
to find if he had taken out a marriage
license. He had not done so either at
Appleton or Green Bay.

It seemed that the deeper the in-
vestigators got into the matter, the
less they knew. As far as they could
determine, Kabat had been the last
person to see McCarty when he left
the farm that evening with $18,000 in

his pocket. After that he seemed to

drop into oblivion.

m AT THE SAME TIME an investiga-
tion was being pressed by Deputy
Richard McGregor in Green Bay, seat
of Brown County. From Mrs. Kepke,
McGregor learned that Cora Farns-
worth had become engaged to McCarty
in July and apparently planned to
marry him. However, Roy Crawford
had come along in August and there
was every evidence that she had
changed her mind, for she seemed
smitten by the handsome salesman.
’ “But didn’t Mrs. Farnsworth tell
McCarty about Crawford?” McGregor
inquired. .

“No. she didn’t,” Mrs. Kepke said.
“She talked to me a little about the
situation and said she was troubled.

She didn’t wan
When Mike car
go out with h
time she was
Crawford.”

“Did Mike c
the night of ©

“No. I’m sur
Mike for almo
and Mr. Crawf
boat ride.”

It was evide
Cora Farnswo1
dangerous gam:
the string, on
other. McGreg:
ing that McCe
in Green Bay «
only to discove:
crazy about ha
After he had ¢
of selling his :
shock and rag:
mendous when
fused to wed h

Although Mc
tation, might n
him want to m
had wronged h
who had stolen
Gregor began t
possible, he r
had gone along
haps slipping a
and Crawford.
on the bay, h
couple, cunnin
that they had

With this in
to see John R
boat. Rizzo said
only Mrs. Far
had been in th

“Could som:
slipped aboard
uty asked.

“Well, I supp«
zo conceded. “
and the dock
getting in and «
Farnsworth anc
ing with me at
could’ve got on
seeing it.”

“You didn’t s:
they left in it?”
“Well, only
They came bac
dock, waving a
“You saw no
Rizzo shook
however, that c
sons could have
seen. McGregor
er, which was n
gave it a_ thc
reasoned that
violence aboard
to be bloodstain
could he find. H
considerably by
Rizzo and left.


if

for second-degree murder, and her boy
friend as an accessory. ae

The headline murder of Raymond
Lindskog brought a measure of heat. to
bear on the West Hollywood vice en-
trepreneurs, but soon they were: back
in business as usual. However, the hand-
writing was on the wall; the heyday of
almost wide-open vice couldn’t go on
forever—and it didn’t.

’ On February 9th, 1965, the Board of
Supervisors finally passed a new anti-
vice ordinance with teeth in it, one that
the county counsel declared would stand
up in court, since it was designed to
regulate the nudie photo studios, rather
than to ban them entirely.

The new licensing ordinance pat-
terned after that of the city of L.A.

outlaws “bumps and grinds” or other:

strip-tease performances at the model-
ing studios. Also strictly banned are
poses which depict “flagellation, bond-
age or sadism,” or sex perversion. New
rules applying to the girlies picture ar-
cades forbid “pictures, films, drawings,
writings, papers, books, magazines or
statues dealing with, or depicting, any
form of sexual perversion, including,
but not limited to, homosexualism, sad-
ism, masochism, flagellation, fetishism
or bondage.”

Supervisor Ernest Debs, who spear-
headed passage of the new law, de-

«

clared that under it, “only those who can
prove they are in business for the ben-
efit of serious, professional cameramen,
will be allowed to stay in business.
“We are making every effort to rid
the county of these nudie studios or
girlie picture arcades, which breed pros-
titution or other degenerate sex activ-
ities.” On motion of Debs, the measure
was adopted as an emergency ordinance,
effective immediately, and the sheriff
was instructed to give top priority to the

«vice crackdown. Studio operators and
‘models were given time to apply for

licenses under the new regulations. A
few applied; some others promptly
closed down or moved out of the county
territory; others remained open, some
of them converting their activities to
relatively innocuous “pinup” art.

Vice operatives checked on the stu-
dios that remained in operation, and
Sheriff Pitchess wasted no time in crack-
ing down on those defying the new
anti-vice law. ©

ON FRIDAY night, February 26th,
the sheriff’s vice squad, including
a number of women deputies, zeroed
in On six nude model studios along San-
ta Monica Boulevard and La Brea Ave-
nue, in the heart of West Hollywood.
Armed with 28 misdemeanor warrants,
the deputies arrested 21 persons. Picked

THE WITCH OF CRUMHORN MOUNTAIN

(Continued from page 25)

1934. He asked questions and jotted
down notes as Eva Coo answered.

Harry Wright—known as “Gimpy
Harry”—was fifty-four and lived in a
room over the garage attached to the
inn. She had last seen him, Eva de-
clared, at about seven when she left the
inn to take care of some personal busi-
ness. Harry wasn’t around when she
returned at about a quarter of ten. No
one could remember seeing him all
evening. When Eva had ascertained that
he was not in his room, she had called
up the State Police Station.

“And I found him about ten,” mused
Caldwell, “a few minutes after I got
the call from headquarters to be ‘on
the lookout. I wonder where he was all
that time.”

At this point, Dr. Earl C. Windsor
arrived to examine the body. The Wood-
bine Inn was situated on the Albany-
Oneonta Highway. The two men got

~into~Caldweltl’s- patrol ~car, and~ the

trooper drove the doctor about two
hundred yards down the concrete road.
He did not have to point out the body.
The pitifully crushed remains of Harry
Wright were plainly visible in a shallow
ditch beside the road.. The dead man
lay sprawled on his side, one arm out-
stretched, and his legs curiously twisted.

Quickly and efficiently, the doctor
went about his grisly task. A bad head

58

up were five studio operators, two of
them women, and 16 models, ranging’
in age from 18 to:22 years old. One
woman studio operator was charged
with prostitution, on the affidavit of an
undercover officer that she had solic-
ited him. The others were accused of
Operating without a license under the
new ordinance, which requires licensing
of models as well as studio operators.
The ‘disconsolate nudity purveyors
were booked at the West Hollywood
sheriffs station and released on bail
pending court appearances. Seven oth-
ers, one Operator and six models, were
still sought on the warrants. Attorneys
for several of those arrested say they
will fight the new regulations in court.

HE MASS RAIDS had an immedi-
_ il ate salutary effect; West Hollywood
vice ran for cover, and is still largely
under cover at this writing. Several
more studios and arcades have shut
their doors.

Sheriff Pitchess has promised unre- -

lenting enforcement, until vice opera-
tions are eradicated from county ter-
ritory. Supervisor Debs says: “We are
determined to put an end to the many
complaints of prostitution and degen-
erate sexual behavior stemming from
the existence of these alleged figure
studios.” ‘

wound had bled copiously. The chest
was obviously smashed. There was not
much more the doctor could do than
note these details.

“He was undoubtedly run over by
an automobile,” Dr. Windsor informed
the officer. “The chest is crushed, most
of his ribs are fractured, and both
shoulder blades are broken.”

“How long has he been dead, Doc?”
The question was asked casually. Cald-
well was already mentally framing the
wording of a routine hit-and-run report
for his superior.

The physician pondered for a mo-
ment. “Judging from the temperature of

the body and the condition of the blood,

I should say that he was killed about
three hours ago.’”’ He consulted his wrist
watch. “It is now 10:54. In my opinion,
death occurred somewhere between 8:00
and 8:30.”

Three hours ago! Caldwell’s startled
mind digested the import of the physi-
cian’s words. He studied with renewed
interest the position of the contorted
body in the ditch. He himself had
spotted the mangled corpse at about ten.
If a hit-and-run car had struck Wright
at 8:00 or 8:30, could the body have
remained undetected in the ditch from
that time until he himself found it?

It seemed fantastic. The body was
clearly visible from the road, a much
traveled thoroughfare. Besides, even at
8:30 there still had been some traces of
daylight. .

The conclusion to be drawn was ele-

‘mentary. Harry Wright had died else-

match folders. The collection was com-

2 * - Sud ¢ - oe
Fi pa eo ae » ett, << eh ame eg © ce poe 0 cee Eben 4 ' cole. wee 2

where, and some two hours after his
death, his body had been placed in the
ditch. But why? And where had death
actually occurred?

He questioned the physician closely,
indicating some of his suspicions. Dr.
Windsor rubbed his chin refiectively.

“The injuries do seem peculiar for a-

hit-an-run accident,” he admitted. “Both
shoulder blades are broken. It is diffi-
cult to visualize how a car could run
over both shoulder blades. One shoul-
der blade, yes; but not both. It’s almost
as if he were run over twice.”

Caldwell nodded thoughtfully. Then
carefully he explored the pockets of
the dead man. The contents, when
spread out upon the ground, were piti-
fully meager. Despite that, there was
no evidence of robbery.

A worn wallet contained $18, a
driver’s license, some _ identification
cards, the soiled business cards .and
scraps of paper that a man methodically
stows away and never looks at again.
The pockets also yielded some loose
change, a handkerchief, cigarettes, and

pleted by a wrist watch and a ring with
a: fair sized stone which, to Caldwell’s
amateur eye, looked genuine. Wright
had definitely not been robbed.

The trooper then examined the ditch
and road in the bright glare cast by the
headlights of his patrol car. Slowly
and meticulously, he covered every inch
of the area involved. When the search
was concluded, his suspicions had crys-
talized into convictions.

ome DETECTIVE CASES

nil anette dnt Cats neat ciate

eS eT Le ee Te ae
Le aoe py aA ae ee


The road was completely free of
skidmarks, usual in an accident such as
this had appeared to be.

Though Wright had bled a great
deal, especially from his head wound,
the amount of blood in the ditch was
suspiciously small.

By this time, the truck from the
county morgue was at the scene, and
Caldwall okayed the removal of the
body.

He returned to the roadhouse, his
mind busily assorting and fitting to-
gether the odd facts he had so far
collected.

He found Eva Coo seated at a table,
staring morosely into a glass of beer.
She did not look up as he passed her
on his way to the telephone booth.

When the voice of his chief came
through over the wire, Caldwell sum-
marized his findings, and suggested a
fast autopsy.

“I think it imperative that we find
out exactly how Wright died,” he said.
“It may somehow supply us with a lead
as to where he died. And maybe he was
dead before he was run over.”

“What exactly is on your mind, Bill?”

Caldwell explained. ‘Wright’s body
was lying in a shallow ditch right be-
side the road. Nobody proceeding along
that road, either walking or in a car,
could have missed seeing him, and, as
you know, chief, there is quite a flow
of traffic on that highway.

“Moreover, people were constantly
going in and coming out of Little Eva's
joint, two hundred yards away. When
I found the body it couldn’t have been
there for more than fifteen, twenty
minutes. Yet, according to the doctor’s
findings, Wright was already dead about
two hours. Obviously, he was killed
elsewhere, and was placed in that ditch
two hours after death.

“Also, Wright wasn’t robbed. And
a casual thief, especially a stranger,
wouldn’t have bothered to move the
body. A transient hit-and-run motorist,
passing through, wouldn’t have moved
the body either. He’d have kept right
on going.

“So I figure that whoever put him in
the ditch knew him, knew where he
lived. Either he died at the roadhouse
and his body was taken out to avert
suspicion, or he was killed elsewhere
and his body removed close to the inn
because he lived there.” He paused for
an answer. :

“You think it was murder?”

“It stacks up that way to me, chief.”

“Okay, Bill.” The voice over the
phone was now incisive. “Til try to
hurry up the autopsy. Meanwhile, you

stay on the case. From now on, it’s

your baby.”

HE trooper returned to Eva Coo.

The first shock of his news seemed
to have worn off, but she sat dull and
lifeless, her eyes a trifle red.

Caldwell began quietly questioning
her about the personal business which
had occupied her time between 7:00
and 9:45. Now that it appeared that
something more sinister than accident
was responsible for Wright's death, the

60

point became important. However, he
made no comment about his suspicions.

Eva Coo, apparently unaware of the
motive that lay behind the officer's in-
terrogations, listlessly explained that she
had spent the time testing out a new
car she was thinking of buying. Her
own jalopy was in bad shape. In fact,
it was not even in operating condition,
being jacked up in her garage. Poor
Harry, she stated, had been working on
it for the past few days.

“It was a little after seven when I
got the new car from Denny Noonan’s
garage up the road,” she said. “Elsie
Briarton met me there. We took the
bus out and drove it around. When |
brought it back, I told Denny that I
was going to buy it. Now that Harry’s
dead, I don’t know. It would be sort
of wrong, me buying a new car with
him not even cold. It sure was a honey,
though,” she added without enthusiasm.

If Miss Briarton corroborated Eva's
story, Caldwell reflected, that would
eliminate Eva as a possible suspect, not
that he had any reason thus far to doubt
her innocence. Elsie Briarton was one
of the girls who frequented the Wood-
bine Inn. She lived in nearby Oneonta.

“Have you seen Burle Honan around
tonight?” Caldwell asked.

Eva sat up belligerently. “Burle Ho-
nan? What has he got to do with it?”

“Nothing that I know of,” responded
Caldwell soothingly. “I was just asking.”

She sank back in her chair. “I haven't
seen Burle tonight,” she said dully. “He
hasn’t been around.” :

Before he left, Caldwell inspected
Eva’s garage. She had not exaggerated
when she said that her car was not in
Operating condition. The car, an ancient
Chevvy, was jacked up on blocks. One
wheel was off, and the transmission case
had been opened. A brief glance as-
sured Caldwell that this was not the
vehicle that had run over “Gimpy
Harry.”

A search of Wright’s room above
the garage proved more fruitful, though
Caldwell was doubtful whether what he
found had any bearing on the case.

The room was fairly neat for a
bachelor’s quarters. The bed was made,
and Wright’s clothing was hanging
neatly in the closet. Wright's personal
papers were stowed away in a bureau
drawer.

The officer glanced over them casu-
ally, then his eyes lit up with interest
as he examined the contents of a long
envelope. Inside it were life insurance
policies, each containing a double in-
demnity clause providing for double
payments in the event of accidental
death. With the double indemnity, they
totalled $10,000.

Designated by Wright as the bene-
ficiary of each policy was Eva Coo.

For an instant suspicion flared up
again in Caldwell's mind. It would not
be the first time that insurance had
motivated a murder. Then he recol-
lected Eva’s alibi and the condition of
her car. It was not necessarily incrimi-
nating that she benefited by Wright's
death. Everyone knew of his infatua-
tion for her; besides, he was a bachelor

with no one else to leave the money to.
And Eva had befriended him.

Nonetheless, Caldwell did not forget
that Eva Coo had driven another car
during that evening—during the crucial
hours in which Wright had met his
mysterious death. .

He therefore made Noonan’s garage
his first stop on the following morning.

In answer to his inquiry, Denny.
Noonan, the garage owner and car
dealer, led him to a new, gleaming
Plymouth, and pointed proudly to it.

He launched into an eloquent de- |
scription of its many amazing innova- °

tions. Caldwell interrupted him.

“She’s a beauty, all right,” he said
regretfully, “but I’m not here to buy,
Denny. Just to ask questions and look
the bus over.”

From the amiable car dealer, he ob-
tained the information he sought. For
two weeks, Eva Coo had been dicker-
ing with Noonan over the purchase of
the car. Shortly after seven, on the pre-
ceding evening, she had come to the
garage with her friend. Elsie Briarton.
Noonan had entrusted the car to the
two women for a trial spin.

“Knowing woman drivers,” continued
Noonan, “I naturally kept my fingers
crossed. But they brought it back all
right, about a-quarter of ten, maybe a
few minutes later, and nobody’s called
me up yet about any dead cows or
busted fences.”

Noonan watched Caldwell studiously
examine the car, particularly the front
end. “You won't find anything,” he
said. “I looked it over myself when
Eva brought it back. There wasn’t a
scratch on it.”

After an exhaustive examination, the
trooper was compelled to agree. Thus,
the second car associated with Eva Coo
was eliminated from consideration.

NY doubt concerning Eva Coo, still

lingering in the officer’s mind, was
completely dispelled by his subsequent
interview with Elsie Briarton.

When the honey-haired girl admitted
the trooper to her apartment, she was
clad in a pink gossamer negligee of
disturbing transparency. Obviously don-
ned in haste only a moment or two be-
fore, it clung to the soft curves of her
body with no more security than foam
to a mermaid. Miss Briarton was a
young woman who, like the fragile
moth, was usually visible only at night
and in the proximity of bright lights.
There, all resemblance ceased. She had
evidently just risen from bed. Over her
white forehead, curling ‘wisps of silky
hair jangled in alluring disorder like
tiny, soundless bells. Violet shadows
under the heavy lidded somnolent hazel
eyes hinted of nights spent in reckless
gaiety.

Languidly she settled herself on the
sofa and reached for a cigarette. She
listened indolently while Caldwell
broached the subject of her journey the
night before with Eva Coo in the new
car. She did not appear to be disturbed.
If she felt fear, it lay well concealed
behind the opaque surface of her in-
scrutable eyes—eyes that, despite her

DETECTIVE CASES

&
f
{
'

~ lessly thrown on

eigen:

fyouth seemed stripped of all illusion,
© of all emotion.

“Poor Gimpy!” she sighed. “What a
way to die!” There was warmth in her
voice, but it was polite warmth, care-

or the moment like
her negligee, and as insecurely fastened.

“You knew he was dead?” Caldwell
had not mentioned the fact.

“Of course!” Her low voice was

’ faintly quizzical. “I was at Eva’s place
last night when you came in: looking
so grim and official. Wasn’t I supposed
to know?” :

Caldwell sighed. “I wasn’t trying to
trap you, Miss Briarton. I have no rea-
son to. I was just asking. When a mur-
der has been committed, we cops have
to ask questions.”

“Murder!” The girl sat up abruptly.
The blunt word had shaken her usual
composure. “I thought Gimpy was hit
by an automobile.”

“He was,” the officer said grimly,
“but we have reason to believe that it
was no accident. We could be wrong.
That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

She sank back on the sofa. “I see,”
she said slowly. “If poor Gimpy was
murdered, of course I'll be glad to
answer your questions—although I don’t
see how that will help you.”

She told Caldwell how she had met
Eva on the preceding evening at the
garage, and had accompanied Eva on
the trial ride. They had driven about
forty or fifty miles along the highway
and then returned. They had made no
detours and not seen Harry Wright at
any time during the trip.

“We got back a short time before
ten,” the girl concluded. “I don’t re-
member the exact time. Eva was raving
about the car, and said that she was
going to buy it. We were told at the inn

‘that Gimpy hadn’t shown up. That was
the first we knew that he was missing.”

“One last question, Miss Briarton.
Have you a car?”

“No, I haven't,” the girl said.

HE interview terminated and Cald-

well left. Increasing doubt was be-
ginning to harass his peace of mind.
His investigation had led so far to a
dead end. The only glimmering of a
motive for murdering Wright was the
insurance policies, but with Eva Coo
definitely alibied out of the picture, the
insurance motive fizzled out. Perhaps
Wright had not been murdered after
all. Perhaps he really was the victim
of a hit-and-run accident.

The autopsy report which he found
waiting for him at headquarters some-
what reassured him. The autopsy, which
had been performed by Dr. James
Greenough, substantiated the previous
examination made by Dr. Windsor.
Both shoulder blades had been broken.
Ribs on both sides of the body had been
fractured. The head wound had been
caused by a blunt instrument and was
not a likely result of an automobile ac-
cident. Some of the body wounds had
bled only slightly, indicating that they
might have been inflicted after death,

The more that Caldwell studied the
report, the more he was convinced that

DETECTIVE CASES

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by John R. Billings

They found poor Harry THE WITCH
mast QF CRUMHORN
reesinente MOUNTAIN

down the road in a ditch
and most people thought

WOMEN WHO WALKED THE LAST MILE

No. 5 in series

* PEOPLE LIVING in the area of
Oneonta, New York, were well ac-
quainted with the noisy little road-
house near there. State Trooper Wil-
liam Caldwell had passed the place
in the foothills of the Catskill Moun-
tains a thousand times on his patrols.
But, as he pulled into the drive this
time, he knew a most unusual call had
brought him to the roadside tavern.

Little Eva’s Place it was called by the
clientele who nightly enjoyed its foam-
ing beer, its aura of unbridled abandon,
and the privacy of its upstairs rooms
which could be had, it was rumored—
for a reasonable stipend—by those en:
gaged in a more intimate pursuit of
pleasure.

But the gaudy neon lights flaring over
the roadhouse informed all and sundry
within a radius of half a mile that its
real name was the Woodbine Inn. It
did not really matter. It was known by

_ both names to the local constabulary.

Little Eva herself was not a person
who could long remain anonymous any-
where, providing that there were men
around with an alert eye for a buxom
curve and an extra buck to invest in
a hilarious time. }

But her name—officially, Miss Eva
Coo—was not recorded an the police
blotter because of her blonde hair and
her extra-sized but voluptuous charms.
There were other reasons for that.

The bootlegging charges filed against
her in prohibition days had increased
her popularity neither with the authori-
ties nor with the respectable folk of
Otsego County; nor had the numerous
brawls that could be heard way out on
the road near the inn.

And the fracas over Eva herself be-
tween Burle Honan, reputed to be her
sweetheart, and Harry Wright, reputed
not to be her sweetheart—either of
‘which rumor might have been unfound-
ed—thickened the cloud of scandal that
enveloped the roadhouse.

It was none of these matters that had

brought Trooper Caldwell to the Wood-
bine Inn. He was on a different sort. of
official errand, one which he did not
enjoy performing. For strangely enough,

even those who most disapproved of ¢

Eva could not ‘help liking her. There
was something about her very reckless-
ness and defiances of convention that
invited sympathy. Behind her-carefree,
boisterous front, reposed a hard core
of genuine strength and courage.

Caldwell sighed, made his way to
the entrance, and strode in. He paused
near the door, unslinging the chin strap
of his trooper’s hat, while his gaze
traveled slowly about the room.

From the radio, a hot drummer was
cutting ribbons of blaring jazz into pul-
sating blue strips that tugged at the
feet of clinging couples, jamming the
postage-stamp sized dance-floor. Other
couples sat huddled together at small
tables, absorbed in each other over ciga-
rettes and beer.

Caldwell’s eyes finally focused on
Eva Coo. She was at the bar, stacking
beakers of foaming beer onto a tray.
Her ‘large, fleshy body radiated vitality
and good nature and uninhibited bawdi-
ness.

The trooper threaded his way toward
her through the maze of tables and
dancing couples. As she turned from the
bar with the tray balanced firmly on the
palm of her hefty, powerful hand, Cald-
well’s grim face and somber eyes
brought her to an abrupt halt.

“Evening, Eva,” murmured the troop-
er. “I understand you called the station
a little while ago about Harry Wright.”

“Hiya, Bill.” Her usually genial,
rowdy voice was a trifle subdued. Anxi-
ety traced tiny lines beneath her eyes.
“You haven't heard anyihing about
Harry, have you? That guy is always
worrying me, what with with his lame
leg and all. He’s never been late for
work before. When he didn’t show up
at all tonight...”

Her voice trailed off when she saw
the trooper’s eyes slide uneasily away
from her own.

“What is it, Bill?” she demanded.
“What's happened?”

Caldwell fumbled nervously with his

DETECTIVE CASES

Sr a ee

Z2

Ee ees ne aati

seme

Mystery surrounded the action that took place on this isolated farm road. |

hat. “It’s not easy to tell you, Eva,” he
said softly. “I—I found Harry. He’s
down the road a little way—in a ditch.
Looks like a hit-and-run accident. He’s
dead, Eva.” ;
A crash jarred the room, hushing
the intimate conversations at the tables.
The swaying couples were frozen into
sudden immobility. Only the radio con-
tinued to thump out its jungle rhythms.
At the feet of Little Eva lay the tray
and the splintered remains of the glass-
es. Spilled beer gathered in little pud-
dles on the floor. Behind the mascara,
and rouge, and flamboyantly painted

DETECTIVE CASES

lips, Eva’s face was white; like a ghost’s
face peering through a bright, gay mask.

“I’m sorry, Eva,” the officer said
gently. “I'll have to call the station and
arrange for a doctor. Then I'd like to
ask you a few questions.”

The woman nodded dully. “Any-
thing you say, Bill . . . Dead! The poor
little helpless guy!”

While Trooper Caldwell mate his
telephone call, Eva explained the cir-
cumstances to her guests, asking them
to leave. They all knew Harry Wright,
Eva’s handyman and general factotum.
They knew him and liked him.

g

°S96T Se

The limping little man, with his
comic, kindly ways, had won the affec+
tion of all. They also knew how Eva felt
about him, and how he adored her:
Quietly the patrons left, and soon the
roadhouse was deserted, quiet and in
darkness. : |

ALDWELL and Eva Coo sat at oné

of the tables. Its litter of beer
glasses and ashtrays had been pushed
aside. A little notebook lay open on
the table in front of the trooper. Me;
thodically he entered the date: June 14,

(Continued on page 58)
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96

one that yelled this?” ;

“The fellow who had first come in
with the girl and was going through our
pockets.” ‘

“Did he have a gun in his hand?”

“No, sir. I didn’t see a gun on him all
through the hold-up.” :

“One of the two gunmen was killed,” I
told him. “Which one was that?” :

“He was the one in back. The ring-
leader was near the cash register.”

I nodded my head and he continued
with his story.

“When they heard the word cop, they
made for Sherry. When they told him to
stick them up, he went for his gun. I
ducked and heard shots fired. When I
looked up, the ringleader was running
out the front door and Sherry was moving
after the other two who were running to-
ward the kitchen. There was another
shot in there and Sherry shot them both.
After that the police came.”

Elinor O’Malley told her story very
much the same as has been related. She
had learned that there is a certain type
of criminal who is as cruel as had been
portrayed in the motion picture she had
seen the night before.

Broke I could question the remain-
der of the witnesses, Assistant Dis-
trict Attorney Dyett. came in. :
“Tt’s a murder case now,” he announced.
Patrolman Sherry died on the operating
table ten minutes ago while getting a
blood transfusion.” :

I asked Dyett whether he had taken any
statements. He handed me.a single sheet
of paper on which the following was
typed:

Statement of Alfred Cozzi, taken
“1 ng Emergency ward. May 2nd,
1931.

Alfred Cozzi, 558 East One Hun-
dred and ninety-first Street, the
Bronx, New York. Single. ‘Lives
with mother, name Emily. Father
dead. Occupation, bricklayer,

“Were you in the restaurant on
Third Avenue during the shooting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever been there be-
fore?”

“No, sir.”

“Whom did you enter the resteu-
rant with?”

“A girl friend of mine. Her name
is Mary Russo. I don’t know where
she lives because I only met her once
before.”

“Have you ever been arrested?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For what?”

“Rape and assault. It was up at
the Ryer Street precinct.”

Dyett then moved over to the next
cot in the Ward, where Sherry lay.

“Look at that fellow” (indicating
Cozzi).

By Patrolman Sherry: “That’s. the
fellow:that shot me.” ;

y Cozzi to Patrolman Sherry:
“What’s that? I had no gun, Officer.
I am the one you shot in the back.”

By Patrolman Sherry: “He is the
one that wore the tan topcoat. He
had a nickel-plated gun.”

Statement finished at 2:40 a. m.

“ce

I returned to the witnesses; this time

trying to ascertain whether they had seen
a gun in Cozzi’s hand.

None of them had.

This, I felt, would take care of the in-
consistency in Sherry’s statement. He
claimed that Cozzi shot him while the ten
witnesses were just as certain that Cozzi
did not even have a gun. It could easily
be explained by the speed with which the
gunfight transpired, and the condition the

True Detective Mysteries

brave officer was in at the time of the
questioning.

I walked into Licutenant Sullivan’s of-
fice. “We've got two out of six so far,”
I said. é

“I take it that you figure the taxicab
driver and the two women in with the
men.” ;

I nodded my head. “Too bad the ring-
leader slipped away.” :

“We'll get him,” Sullivan vowed grimly.

“And get him quick!” He swung around -

and asked: “How do you figure Cozzi?
He’s been trying to tell me he is inno-
cent. He had no gun, and that fellow
who did .have the gun seemed to punc-
tuate every order he gave Cozzi with a
jab of his gun. Cozzi’s story is that he
was forced into the stick-up.”

“When?” I asked. “Before he entered
the restaurant or after he and his girl
friend were seated?”

“After they were seated,” Sullivan re-
plied. “The two killers walked in, ac-
cording to him, and told this Mary Russo
to scram. Now, he has a police record.
But that does not make him guilty.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I smiled. “T’ll have
a talk with him later in the day.”

I spent the rest of the early morning
hours checking over the statements of
witnesses, questioning suspects who were

_being brought into the station-house - in

droves in the police drag-net, and going
over the scene of the crime.

I returned to my office at 9:30 A. M.

‘that morning. The daily press had al-

ready seized upon the case and was re-
porting it fully. i

t ten o’clock a slim, blond-haired
man walked down the corridor of the
fourth floor in the District Attorney’s
Building. This is the “Homicide floor.”

e rapped on a glass-paned door bearing
the legend, “Homicide Bureau.”

Dick Gonzales, the chief clerk, asked
him what he wanted.

“It’s this murder of Patrolman Sherry,”
he replied. “I think I know: something
about it.”

Gonzales immediately ushered him into
my office.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Herman Kohlweiss,” was the reply.

HAT makes you think you can

help in this case?”
“You see, sir,” was the reply, “I am a
taxi driver. Around midnight I got a
call on the corner of Thirty-ninth Street
and Third Avenue by two men and a
girl. I pulled up to the curb and they
told me to take them to the ‘Cave’ I
did. The two fellows got out and told
me to wait. They left the girl in the cab.
A few minutes later a girl comes walking
out of the restaurant and gets into the
cab. She was a blonde. The one I picked
up on Thirty-ninth Street was a brunette.

“After she got into the cab she started
talking to the other girl. Then the blonde
leaned forward, opened my window, and
asked me for a cigarette. I gave her
one and she locked the window. Then

6

- they started talking some more, but I

>

The funeral of the heroic Officer,
Bernard Sherry, killed while stopping
a hold-up F

wasn’t paying any attention to what they
were saying.

“About ten minutes later I saw a fel-
low back out of the ‘Cave’ He was one
of the fellows who I had just let out.
When he gets next to my cab, he wheels
around and jabs a gun into my neck. ‘You
—— ,—— —,’ he cursed. ‘Drive like
h—!" Then he hopped into the car and
squatted down on the little pullman seat.
He still kept the gun against my neck.”

“Where did you take him?” I asked,
Before he could reply, I asked, “By the
way, what is a pullman seat?”

“Oh, that’s a pull-out seat in front of
the back seat. It’s used for extra passen-
gers.” .

“In other words, he was directly be-
hind you?”.

“That’s right,” he replied. “He didn’t
say where to go, so I drove east on For-
tieth Street. I took this route because I
usually see a policeman along it. I
crossed Second Avenue and drove down
to First. There was a red traffic light
against me and I saw a cop on the corner,
80 I took a chance and made a left turn
against the light. But the officer didn’t
pay any attention to me.

As I made the left turn I kept go-
ing up First Avenue and when the
lights changed against me I still kept
oing, in the hope that he would stop me.
e didn’t. I drove this guy around for a
few minutes and he told me to take him
to the subway station at Lexington Ave-
nue and Fifty-ninth Street. I left him
off and the two girls got out also. He
paid me eighty-five cents and then the
three of them ran down the steps of the
northwest entrance to the I. R. T.”
“Did you hear any conversation be-
tween the girls and the killer?” I asked:
“No. I don’t think he spoke to them
at all until the time we stopped. Then he
said, ‘O. K. girls. We get out here,’”

“From the way the girls acted, would

you say he knew them well?”

“Sure, they were good friends, I
know I was scared when I saw him with
the gun but they acted like they expected
it all along.”

I asked him to describe the two women
and the killer, and he did. “If I ever see
them again, I’d know them for certain,”
he added.

I left my office and went down to see
Lieutenant Sullivan. “I guess we can
eliminate the taxi driver from suspicion,”
I said. I related what the latter had told
me. “He came down voluntarily when he
read in the morning papers that there was
a murder in the ‘Cave’.”

Sullivan nodded his head. “We've just
checked on the fellow who was killed. The
bullet Dr. Gonzales took out of his body
came from Sherry’s gun. He didn’t have
any identification papers on him so we got
it through his finger-prints. His name is
Peter Gugliemetti. He’s only an eighteen-
year-old kid but he’s got a record like
an old-timer. Every job he’s ever pulled
has been with a gun.”

“Did you find anything about his com-
panions?”

“There isn’t much to go on there,” Sul-
livan replied. “All we know is that he

ung out with a Harlem mob.”

Sullivan walked into the Detectives’
room and called Detectives John Hogan,
Peter Golemboski, and Patrick Mullarney.
They filed into Sullivan’s room and I
spoke to them. “You men know that
there was a terrible homicide in this dis-
trict early this morning. We've got very
little to work on. I guess you know that
only too well. All we know is that the
dead man hung out in Harlem, a little
district of half a million souls. :

“We have a dead man: who can’t talk

“T an

were giy
to the p
“Do y
with the
His fa
ing!”
“It’s tk
no use j
witnesses
driver in
don’t yo
low who
and the
‘fronted’
Cozzi -
anguish.
“What n
two of on
I am goi
You have
you want
“Won't
Cozzi’s
who the
through
T'll never
Squealer,
was a bra
the police
Sherry’s r;
Althoug
sion to tl
plained. ]
police offic
in plain cl
“Did yc
murder?” -
He shoc
“Then }
policeman
“Well, w
fellow wal.
hold-up. ]
cause if it
closed the

Meanwhi
lemboski }
three fugit

“The on
in with an:
liemetti mi


«

May 1936

True Detective Mysteries

Dancing Killers

(Continued from page 49)

few feet, and struck the door.

Elinor O’Malley screamed and fell to
the floor in a dead faint. :

Sherry rose unsteadily to his feet. His
service revolver was in his right hand.
The thick-lipped gunman retreated back-
wards for a few yards, then turned on his
heels and scooted toward the kitchen.
With unfaltering courage, Sherry, al-
pon fatally wounded, staggered after

im.

The leader of the robbers slipped be-
hind the wounded officer and sped out
through the front door. In an instant he
had hopped into the taxi and had been
driven away.

At the back of the store the man who
had been heaping the valuables into a
sack suddenly found himself confronted
by the wounded Sherry. He backed into
the line of men who had been held up.
Sherry’s gun swung about and pointed at
Harold S. Osborne, an attorney who was
one of the men that had been robbed.

“No. No. For God’s sake, not me!”
shouted Osborne.

Sherry’s gun swung unsteadily back to
the man who had been scooping the
money into a bag. The man dived for a
table. Simultaneously the patrolman’s
gun barked. A splotch of red appeared
on the man’s neck. ,

GeAEY fired again. The bullet found
its mark in the man’s shoulder. The
second gunman, terrified at the unexpected
turn of events, leapt through the swing-
ing doors into the kitchen. He raced for
a window. With the butt of his gun he
crashed the pane of. glass.

It was then that he discovered that the
windows were blocked by an iron grating.
Sherry swung through the doors. The
gunman was trapped. He jumped away
from the window and edged along the
side of the room.

“Get out of the way!” he screamed.
“T’ll shoot!” 7

The trapped robber squeezed the trig-
ger. A bullet smashed through the panel
of the door. He leapt for the door just
as the officer fired.

He stopped short, staggered a moment
and dropped dead to the floor with a
bullet through his heart.

Sherry backed out, swayed drunkenly
through the restaurant, and pushed out
into the street. The leader of the mob
had disappeared in the taxi. He slumped
down to the curbstone, his arms clutched
across the ever-widening circle of red on
his coat. .

Inside the “Cave” pandemonium had
broken loose. One gunman lay dead-in
the kitchen. A second crawled painfully
across the floor begging for someone to
send for an ambulance. He bled pro-
fusely from wounds in the neck and arm.

John LaRocco was first to act. He
rushed to the telephone behind the bak
and called the Fifteenth Squad detec-
tives.

Lieutenant Walter Sullivan, one of the
crack detectives on the city’s force,
rushed down with Detectives Hogan,
Mullarney, and Murray. Sherry saw
them come, tried vainly to get to his

feet, and whispered, “Hold-up.”
Then he toppled sideways and lay un-
conscious. on the pavement. Hogan

flagged a taxicab and rushed the patrol-
man to the emergency ward at Bellevue
Hospital. While Murray rounded up
the witnesses, Mullarney questioned the
wounded man.

“How did you-get mixed up in this?”

he asked.
“T ain’t mixed up in anything,” the
wounded man gasped. “For Heaven’s

sake, get me an ambulance!”

Mullarney examined the wounds
quickly. “You'll live,” he said curtly.
“Now, what’s your name?”

“Alfred Cozzi.”

“How did you happen to be shot?”

“When the hold-up started, one of the
men with a gun forced me over to the
back table. He told me he’d kill me if
I didn’t help with the stick-up. When the
cop came in, he took a shot at me. He
could have seen I didn’t have a gun,” he
moaned.

ae was also rushed to Bellevue Hos-
pital.
¢ I received a flash on the crime at the
same time it was sent to Headquarters.
My job is to prosecute only murder cases.
In this shooting, although Sherry was
still alive at the time of the flash, it was
obvious that medical science would be of
little avail.

sent Assistant District Attorney
Thomas B. Dyett to the hospital to take
statements from the wounded men, while
I went to the precinct where the witnesses
were held.

“Which one of you men is the pro-
prietor of the place?” I asked.

A rotund, dark, middle-aged Italian
pushed forward excitedly. “I am,” he
said.

“Tell me in your own words exactly
what you saw happen?” I told him.

“IT was near the cash register when a
fellow and his girl walked in and took
a table in one of the booths. He ordered
two sandwiches and two cups of coffee.
The waiter went out to fill the order.
Then I walked toward the kitchen. Just
then two more fellows came into the
place and sat down. with the couple. The
girl got up and walked out.

“T continued toward the kitchen when
one of the fellows came toward me. I
thought he was going to walk into the
kitchen, so I said, ‘I’m sorry, Mister. The
Gents’ Room is that way.’ He gave a
sort of hollow laugh and jammed a gun
into my stomach.

““(NET over against the wall and keep
your trap shut!’ he ordered.

“I did what he asked me.”

“And what were the other two fellows
doing?”

“Well, the fellow this gunman came in
with, also pulled out a gun and lined up
the rest of the people next to me. Then
he pointed his gun at the fellow who was
still sitting there, that’s the one who came
in with the girl, and he says, ‘Roll ’em!’

“This fellow gets up and starts going
through our pockets. We all put our
things on a table and he started stuffing
them into a bag. This fellow Osborne,
the layyer, started arguing about his
watch.. He said it wasn’t very valuable,
but that he was keeping it for sentimental
reasons. He asked if he could keep it.
The fellow only looked at him and said,
‘Put up and shut up!’

“The gunman that was covering us
from the middle of the floor pointed his
revolver at me and made me open the
cash register. He hopped over the bar
and just as he was about to take the
money out the front door opened and
Patrolman Sherry and a girl walked in.

_ The fellow in the back yells, Jiggers, it’s

ad ot , . ,
“Now just a minute,” I interrupted.
“Let’s get this straight. Who was the

95

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Dancing Killers—A Manhattan Enigma 49

turned wordlessly toward her companion. The officer with-
drew his head and walked into the restaurant. Again Elinor
was behind him. As the door closed, two guns were suddenly
jammed into his body. ;

“Stick them up or you're a corpse!’’ hissed a voice on'one
side of him.

Sherry pushed Elinor aside. “Hold still!” the voice com-
manded.

It took Patrolman Sherry only an instant to realize what
was taking place. The “Cave” is a restaurant with semi-
private booths lining the wall on the left. On the right is a
long bar extending two-thirds of the way down to the back.
In the rear are more booths and an entrance to the kitchen.

In front of these booths ten men were lined, facing the wall,
their arms thrust in the air. On one of the tables lay a col-
lection of watches, jewelry, and currency. A dark-haired
man was scooping it into a canvas bag. Behind the’ bar

the cash register was open, but the money was still stacked
in the compartments. Sherry had evidently entered at the
moment it was to be rifled.

The gunmen in front of him were dapper, hard youths.
One wore a gray, double-breasted top coat, blue suit and
gray hat. He had an oval face, coarse, oily skin, and a pair
of thick lips. The second was dark-complexioned, of medium
build, and had a pair of slit-like lips, and ferrety eyes.

The thin-lipped gunman, evidently the leader, pressed
his gun harder against Sherry. “Come on, Copper, up with
those hands!”’ he growled.

. Sherry acted instantly. His right hand flew to his hip

pocket. Two guns cracked. So close were they to the
patrolman that the spurt of flame touched his clothing. One
shot ripped through his abdomen, hit a rib, and ricocheted
back into his intestines.

He fell off balance, backed away a (Continued on page 95)

Two of the young bandits who liked the girls and dancing—a combination that made the detectives trot out their own
opera pumps. (Left) The unknown fugitive they sought; and (right) the man shot down whose part in the robbery puzzled
the police

a tet cate et

ta

phere oe


and a wounded man, who, if he is inno-

cent won’t know and if guilty, won’t talk.
The leader of the killers and the two
molls are gone. I know it’s a hard thing
to ask, without a single clue to- work on,
but I want the three of them within a
week!”

The detectives did not say a word,
They nodded their heads sharply, and
with lips grimly closed, filed silently out
of the room.

I left Sullivan and hurried down to
Bellevue Hospital. In the Emergency
Ward, Cozzi lay listlessly upon his cot.
The bullets had been extracted and the
doctor pronounced him in no danger,

“Why don’t you tell me the truth about
the affair?” I asked.

Cozzi brushed his fingers through his
thick, curly black hair. “Another cop,”
e groaned. “Why don’t you leave me
alone?”

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” I
countered,

“I am telling the truth,” he whined. “I
only did the searching ’cause one of the
guys had a gun on me.”

I changed the tack of questioning. “Did
you go there with a woman?”

“T told you that before,” he muttered.

“And when the two gunmen came in,
they sat down at your table?”

“SURE! That’s when they made me do
what they asked. They told Mary to
scram out of the place.”

It is doubtful whether Cozzi realized
just how flimsy that excuse was, By tel-
ling Mary to get out of the “Cave” they
were giving her an opportunity to report
to the police!

“Do you know that Mary walked out
with the killer?” I told him.

His face turned ash-gray, “You're ly-

ing!” ‘
“It’s the truth,” I said quietly. “There’s
no use your denying it. There are four
witnesses to it. We just got the cab
driver in and he also affirms it. Now, why
don’t you tell me the name of the fel-
low who engineered the whole business
and the names of the two molls who
‘fronted’ for you?”

Cozzi put up his hand to his face in
anguish. “Leave me alone!” he cried.
“What more do you want? You have
two of our five. Gugliemetti is dead and
I am going to die in the electric chair.
You have two lives for one, now—why do
you want the other man?”

“Won’t you tell me who he is?”

Cozzi’s jaw tightened. “I won't tell you
who the third man is. If you find out
through your own efforts, all right, but
I'll never tell,” he said grimly. “I am no
squealer. But I must say this—Sherry
was a brave man. I have nothing against
the police. I was out of work, That was
Sherry’s racket; this was mine.” ‘

Although I had secured Cozzi’s confes-
sion to the crime, one thin was unex-
plained. How did he know herry was a
police officer when the latter was dresged
in plain clothes? :

“Did you ever see Sherry before the
murder?” I asked him.

He shook his head.

“Then how did you know he was a
policeman when he entered?”

“Well, when the door opened and this
fellow walked in, he saw that this was a
hold-up. I knew he was a policeman be-
cause if it was anyone else he would have
closed the door and run out.”

Meanwhile, Mullarney, Hogan and Go-
lemboski had begun the hunt for the
three fugitives.

“The only chance we have is to mix
in with any friends this Cozzi and Gug-
liemetti might have had,” Hogan said.

True Detective Mysteries

The men climbed into Hogan’s car and

rove up to Harlem.

“O. K.,” Hogan “ said. “Here’s where
we split up. We're just a couple of
friends of the killers. We're sympathiz-
ing with them because they’re in trouble.
We'll meet here at six o’clock and com-
pare notes.”

The detectives scattered in different di-
rections. Throughout the remainder of
the day they filed silently into pool halls
and beer parlors and every possible day-
time haunt the men might have had.

At the agreed time the officers met.
“There isn’t a h— of a lot they let out
about themselves,” Mullarney said. “The
fellows in the pool rooms remember them
but they don’t know who was their par-
ticular pal. Either it’s that or they’re
wise to us.”

“That’s right,” Golemboski chimed in.
“They’ve all closed up like clams. I did
get one thing though. The boys are fond
of women. They always seemed to have
a bankroll handy to flash in the eyes of
their friends, They have no jobs and
never got that much money from home.
Putting two and two together makes a
couple of jobs they’ve pulled that haven’t
been solved yet.”

“Did you dig anything up, John?”
Mullarney asked, turning to Hogan.

“Nothing much,” the latter returned.
“Only the places they like to spend that
roll of bills you were talking about.”

“Where is that?”

“In the dance halls. From what I could
learn the boys were girl-crazy. You boys
will have to trot out your opera pumps,”
he laughed. “You're in for an evening of
dancing.”

Starting at nine o’clock they made their
round of the “taxi” dance halls and night
clubs that dot Harlem. The method of
approach was to purchase dance tickets,
usually for ten cents a dance, secure a
hostess, and dance out to the middle of
the floor. Here she was engaged in an in-
nocent bit of conversation.

If, in her answers to leading questions,
she revealed that she knew either the de-
fendants or the fugitives, she sat out the
next few dances, answering the queries of
the detectives,

T one of the dance floors, a colored

orchestra blared forth raucously the
popular syncopated rhythms of the day.
On the floor colored and white danc-
ers intermingled. Tt was a hot night and
Hogan was piloting a tall, slim, dark girl
named Tessie around the hall.

After opening with the few harmless
questions, Hogan said wearily, “It sure is
tough on the boys.”

Tessie looked at him quizzically. “Who
you talking about?” she asked.

“My pal, Fred Cozzi,” he replied with
a sad shake of the head.

“Oh. Yeah, it sure is tough.” ,

Was this just a bit of idle talk or did
she really know who Cozzi and Guglie-
metti, were? Hogan couldn’t be sure,

“Fred is in a bad spot,” mourned

ogan. ;

“I guess you're right at that,” Tessie
agreed. “Pete’s much better off dead.”

Pete was the first name of Gugliemetti!

essie evidently did know the men.

Hogan took a stab in the dark. . “
guess the boy friend will get away with’
it, eh?”

Tessie looked closely at Hogan. “Say,
who are you?” she demanded suddenly,

“I’m a detective,” he replied smoothly.

He saw her face g0 pale beneath its
rouge and powder, Her body went limp.
Hogan gripped her roughly,

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RE ns ee Pee cecal

Woodbine Inn, little Eva’s

headquarters on the high-

way, where she gathered

her clan and housed her
" Many pets

¥

“Have you seen i. (Left) Harry Wright, the (Right)

arry
Wright?” she asked. “Dz,

only known photo of the Mrs. E:
é ° murdered ‘‘little man’”’, streak ¢
worried about him.” whom brutal death made that bo
No. Fred Palmer famous, taken when he stood j

moved toward the radio,
pulled up a chair. “What's
the matter?”
i a. worried,’ ie te
ig, hea -set, leat ery,
straw-blonde Eva. She
went to the window and
looked out, “Harry Wright
went down to Jim John-
son’s place’ around dusk
to see about a paint job.
He should have been back
before now. I expected
Harry Nabinger to pick
him up in a car and bring
him back. But you know
how Nabinger is; I s’pose
he’s drunk in Oneonta, as
usual,”

Eva Coo’s voice was
low, resigned, - Fred Pal-
mer, about to dial a num-

r, stared at her under-
standingly, Yes, he knew
how Harry Nabinger’ was,
Nabinger was Eva’s hand-
Some, youngish lover, and

e was, to put it bluntly,
a drunk. He would start
out for one town and per-
haps end up in another three days later,
to take the cure, but that did no good. Inf Ty
Wright, Eva’s handyman, loved their hard liquor too well. But rough,
tough Eva was pretty patient with them. It was just like her, thought
Palmer, to be worried about g00d-for-nothing Harry Wright at this
moment,

Fred spun ‘the radio dials, pulled his chair forward. “Which one do
you like?” he asked. “T like Baer,”

The interior of the haunted
‘house, near the scene: of
the atrocity. It was in
front of this place that the
owner surprised the killers

Siesta Eiaceratenioe Bid


KBBKYXKK COO, Eva, white, elec. Sing “ing (Otsego) 6/27/1935...

TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTERI ES, Mercy O

a = AA Cen
———

_ The untold truth about

HEN the little man knew he was about to die. They . a
meant to kill him and he was alone and utterly helpless. cher Se
Maddened by terror, he tried to raise an arm, tried to Celt ah
| scream. But the great roaring thing closed in upon
him and crushed him. . He lay quietly; the crickets were

chirping, the stars.were diamond points in the sky, there were
nearby voices, even children’s voices. But the little man
couldn’t speak; he was dead. Little man, no one paid
. much attention to you alive. You were a nonentity. Now
that you’re dead you'll be famous. They’ll scramble madly
about the country searching for a picture of you; there’ll be
screaming headlines!

* * *

Crumhorn mountain flanks the green, winding Susque-
hanna Valley for a short distance in the Catskill foothills of
ut upper New York State. The Oneonta-Albany concrete —
: way follows through the vailey like a hard white
‘| ribbon with a black thread cutting the middle.
| Cars whiz along that hard white ribbon all day
and all night. .
| Some of the cars that travel at night would ©
| occasionally stop at a neatly painted yellow road-
| house called Woodbine Inn. On the aluminum
{ mailbox in front were crude letters, EVA COO, RD-1.

Sometime after 9 o’clock on the night of June
14th, 1934, Fred Palmer, hired man for Mrs.
Clara Meyers, came strolling along the white
highway toward the roadhouse known as Eva
Coo’s place. Mrs. Meyers was Eva’s nearest
neighbor. ‘Fred Palmer saw that the roadhouse
ji lights were on, saw Eva Coo moving about behind
att the unshaded windows. He went around back,
pushed the kitchen screen door open and entered.
| Parrots screamed at him, a puppy came bound-
‘ing forward, a sleeping cat in a corner uncurled
| itself. Eva Coo liked pets.

oo fi “Hello,” said Fred. ‘How about hearing that
Peal Carnera-Baer fight over your radio?”

Eva Coo nodded, staring hard at him with
her big light-blue eyes.

She took a step forward, smoothed her hands
nervously across her enormous hips.

oP DOTS OP cee RR BS bins nee ns
Se
: x" 6 :

et eae
PS.

(Left) Official photo

taken when the re-
construction of. the crime
was staged. Arrow points
to the actual body of victim

eo
" Sen


UT

\|COO CASE

«

rN eae By Sheriff
Le Se ie:

GEORGE H. MITCHELL

Otsego County, New York
As told to

_ A. MILTON LEARNED

(Left) Drive- : ‘(Below) Edna
way where the Hanover, who
crime was com- assisted the po-
mitted. The lice in the case

haunted house
can be seen in
the shadows at
left

ot lO eae

a OBES BP meee te I bins seo

Nit oy


@

nutes, the
s its victim,

Aipheaval,. and few
riitwoney. Their gory
ierallythe results of af-

jy the more refined
Hg out ‘life—asphyxia-
iz. And, if they choose
es q a A i: methods,they usually induce
piles : ; : a tl ‘accomplices to handle the
however, was & notorious
jan Not only did she slay for
reasons, but she herself
‘and fiendishly battered ‘her
eath.

ourity, New! York, but her
ss did not fare well. Seeking
fiey, she insured her handyman,
tiby Wright, for $10,000, with her-
‘as beneficiary. For almost a year

firaculously, the man survived. Con-
NWequently, Eva Coo decided to take
fmore direct action. To aid her, she
enlisted the services of a friend, 29-
' year old Martha Clift.

* ". &

IRST, Mrs. Coo bought a mallet
and an ancient rattletrap of a car.
‘Then she had Martha Clift drive her
and Gimpy, whom she filled with
brandy, to a secluded road a consid-
erable distance from her property.

Pretending that she wanted some
shrubbery dug for transplanting in
her yard, Mrs, Coo induced Gimpy to
leave the car, The moment his back
was turned, she struck him over and
over again with the heavy end of the
mallet, And when she was sure the
man was dead, the heartless woman
instructed Martha to shuttle the car
over him five or six times. .

Successful thus far, the murderess
and her accomplice wrapped the body
in an old quilt and.drove to a spot
a short. distance from her home,
-whete the remains were dumped. She
hoped to make it appear that the in-
toxicated handyman had strayed into
the road and been struck by a hit-
and-run driver.

“The authorities seemed satisfied
that Wright, in a drunken stupor, had

automobile, and for two days Mrs.

Furthermore, they

Coo owned a roadhouse in Ot- :

“fed him poisonous alcohol, but —

fallen beneath the wheels of a passing;

Coo believed she had committed the
perfect crime. On the third day, she
realized that her luck could not last.

The insurance company’s investiga-
tor was skeptical and would not turn
over any money to the beneficiary of
the policy until further inquiries had
been made. Furthermore, Martha
Clift confessed the crime to a horri-
fied friend, and before long Eva and
Martha were indicted for murder.

On the day of the trial, Martha
Clift turned state’s evidence and in
return for this favor was allowed to
plead murder in the second degree.
After testifying against Mrs. Coo, she
was sentenced to serve a term of from
20 years to life at the women’s prison
at Bedford Hills, New York. Eva Coo
was found guilty as charged, and re-
manded to the state prison for execu-~
tion. When she arrived there, she was
dubbed the “tiger woman.”

Yet this murderess who was pic-
tured to be the type of individual who

would claw anyone at the slightest.

provocation, displayed none of her
tigerish qualities while in condemned
row. In fact, she was always quiet and
never asked for any favor. Matrons
who watched over her stated that Eva

Coo seemed to regard her stay in the

death house as a sort of vacation.
On the night the slayer was sched-

uled to die, the warden stopped in -
to see her at her request. “What did
the Governor say?” she asked without

the slightest traces of hysteria or
emotional unbalance.
The warden shook his head. “I’m

sorry,” he said frankly. “He refuses

to intervene.”

“Oh, well,” Eva Coo replied, shrug-
ging her shoulders, a gesture of resig-
nation prison officials: had often seen

before. “I guess little Eva was never.

in line for a break.” A few minutes
later, she went to her death.

Coo labevel wis known

‘

arvensis


a garage

Eva Coo’s

id the garage

-ne car out

vuld buy it.

to buy it,

the garage.

to Franklin

| e drove to-
ced: ‘Harry

ement were
ade the re-
rry Wright’s

ure—to find
Martha was
er apartment
watched the
outskirts of
irs, without

to help us.
vas driving
n hailed him
was a former

iderstand the
investigating
-ve you think
nee on him.
iwell leaned
nanager of a
iocal office.

| for, and
2 asserted
them, or
They’re in
re for small
tantial sum.”
in astonish-
i sped away.

*
relayed the
next move
ypers, Knapp
st-haste to

they reached

ernoon, storm
was almost

i by way of
lighted house
s several pet
eg, the ery of
ind Maynard
place sys-
they found
bottom of a
life insurance
amounts. Two
one protected
Coo herself.
earching, Eva
e in Coopers-
er pet animals
that she be
‘d them. She

time, Troopers
time to fin‘sh
id her. “You
nals and ceme
n and Under-

Before she and
I sent Ser-

t the Coopers-
ead to see if
inished. When

and Maynard

nee policies,

n being told

. Knapp and

che four in-

to the bureau
ind them. Then,

4 hed outside and

hid in an outbuilding, just before Brady
and my son arrived with Eva Coo. The
two guards stayed with her while she fed
her pets, and allowed her to go into her
bedroom to change her clothes. Within
ten minutes she had made the change and
was on her way back to Cooperstown.

The storm clouds had broken, shafts of
lightning played wickedly about Wood-
bine Inn and thunder rolled over Crum-
horn Mountain as Knapp and Maynard
rushed back into the roadhouse.

The officers headed directly for the
bureau drawer in which they had re-
placed the four life insurance policies.
They yanked the drawer open, threw
clothes out on the floor, then stared at
each other in consternation. The policies
were gone!

F -anticatly the two troopers began a
new search. They went through all the
bureau drawers and the drawers of a
small dressing table; they looked under a
rug, examined the bedclothes and mattress.
Nothing there.

There was one other hiding place, a
closet, and the door was locked. Knapp
and Maynard broke it open, took all the
clothes from the hooks. The policies had
not been pinned inside Eva’s clothes. The
closet was deep and dark; when the troop-
ers had finished pulling all the clothes
out, they saw something way in the back.
It was a small heap of clothes carelessly
dropped in a corner.

Knapp went inside, picked up _ these
articles, gave an exclamation. Tucked
neatly in the corner under the clothes

were policies—but more than four.

Knapp came out of the closet with his
hands full of papers. He spread them out
on the bed. Then he and Maynard counted
fifteen life insurance policies, including
the four they had previously found. Seven
of them had been taken out in various
companies on Harry Wright’s life. during
March. Each was for a small sum, but
counting the double indemnity, in case of
accidental death, they totaled $10,000!

The policies were rushed to Coopers-
town. Now we had a motive, sharp and
significant. Little Harry Wright was worth
nothing alive, but he was very valuable
dead. And Eva Coo was beneficiary.

We had evidence, we had a motive, and
our aggressive district attorney, Donald
Grant, was working hard on the case.
But Eva wouldn’t talk. We knew we must
capture Martha Clift before we could
bring to light the sinister story of crime.
Martha was almost as important as Eva
herself.

It was dusk of that Monday afternoon.
Rain was falling in torrents. In Oneonta
and throughout the Valley deputies were
searching—searching for a rather heavy-
set young woman with dark, bobbed hair,
wearing glasses and wearing a light dress
under a snort leather coat. That was our
description of her.

City Marshal Harold Hall stood in a
dark doorway opposite the Main Street
address where Martha Clift had shared
her apartment with Bea Urban. He stood
there until midnight, his eyes fixed upon
the third-story front windows opposite.
But Martha didn’t return.

Outside Oneonta another vigil was in
progress. Next to a big red barn was an
old unpainted building once used as a
schoolhouse. There Martha Clift’s mother
lived, caring for Martha’s two children.
From the red barn Officers Bert Face and
Frank Golding of the Oneonta Police kept
watch upon the house. They knew Martha
Clift was not inside.

The rain flooded the hillside and poured
through the barn’s leaky roof. Lights in
the old schoolhouse went out, midnight
passed. The officers shivered, the storm

wouldn’t let up. It was almost 2 o’clock
in the morning when something happened.

A woman picked her way up the muddy
hillside road, without an umbrella,
drenched to the skin. She moved with
faltering, tired steps. She had almost
reached the schoolhouse when the officers
seized her. Martha Clift was caught!

Martha was hurried to Cooperstown
where, after she changed to dry clothes,
she faced District Attorney Grant and my-
self for questioning. But our feeling of
triumph at her capture was short-lived;
she refused to give us any information.
Both she and Eva Coo were fighting us,
fighting for their lives like trapped animals.

Grant directed the questioning, using
what information we had, first to break
Eva's story, then Martha’s story. But
both women insisted they’d had nothing
to do with Harry Wright’s death and
knew nothing about it.

In desperation we took Martha Clift
back to the Oneonta jail. We thought if
we continued questioning her away from
Eva Coo in Cooperstown we might get
better results.

Meanwhile, we checked back further
upon Harry Wright’s life. We learned that
when he had come to live with Eva Coo
in 1931, he had had two bank accounts of
$1,500 and $320. Now they were gone.
We found that Mrs. Coo had renewed a
fire insurance policy on a house which
Wright had owned in Portlandville. Shortly
after the renewal the house was burned
down. The money, paid to Wright, had
vanished. More money realized later from
the sale of the lot where the house had
stood had also been spent.

Checking the finances of Eva Coo, we
learned that she had been in need of
money just before Wright’s death. The
1933 taxes on her roadhouse were unpaid,
and the taxes on a house she owned in
Oneonta.

We re-questioned Tom Proctor, Bea
Urban, and Ann Elwood. It soon became
apparent that all three were in the clear
and in no way connected with the crime.

Proctor was a puzzling figure, then and
now. His character was weak rather than
sinister. He had lived with Eva Coo,
allowed her to support him, spent her
money for liquor. She had fallen in love
with him on the day he first visited her
roadhouse as a furnace salesman. By
his ingratiating manner he had sold him-
self, rather than a furnace, to her.

W. couldn’t understand Proctor’s quoted
remarks on the night of the crime—that
he had seen Harry Wright five minutes
before his death and that Wright had not
been killed where his body was found.
Another remark attributed to Proctor
suggested that he had feared for his own
life.

Ann Elwood told us that she and Eva
Coo had encountered Proctor intoxicated
on the road the day after the crime. The
two women were in a car, and Eva had
begged her lover to climb inside. She
had expressed a fear that he might be run
over.

But Proctor had refused. He had suddenly
turned upon Eva, exclaiming: “If I get
hit by a car you won’t have to hire
someone to kill me!”

We found that Eva Coo had had Proctor’s
life insured for $1,000, but the policy
had lapsed when the first payment wasn’t
made. Proctor himself told us that he
had written numerous letters, under Eva
Coo’s direction, obtaining the insurance
upon Harry Wright’s life. Letters of ap-
plication for insurance in his handwriting
but with Harry Wright’s name signed to
them had gone out to companies all over
the country.

Bea Urban added another bit of the pic-

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“On the evening of June 14th I happened
to be on Crumhorn Mountain in a car. I
was with friends, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin
Hunt, and their children. They’ll verify
everything I say. You see, I own the
abandoned Scott house on the mountain
top. We were driving near it.”

I nodded and watched Eva Coo, who sat
unmoved. The Scott house is a queer,
tumbledown old place. set deep amid a
heavy cluster of trees. Some people call it
the haunted house. It’s like something
from the eerie past; inside it are old-fash-
ioned chairs, tables, a venerable organ.
In the huge barn behind it is a buggy, un-
used for years.

Mrs. Fink continued: “Some neighbors
stopped our car. They told us strange
people were lurking near my house, per-
haps to rob it. The Hunts agreed to help
me investigate, and as we approached the
house I saw car headlights. The headlights
were blazing down toward the road, the
car was in the driveway close to the house.

“We drove into the driveway a little
way, then I got out and walked toward
the strange car, a heavy sedan. A woman
was standing beside the sedan—Mrs. Cvo..
Another woman, wearing horn-rimmed
glasses, was inside at the wheel. I didn’t
know her.

“I demanded to know if Mrs. Coo had
been taking things from my house. She
denied it and became vehement. She threw
open the sedan doors and told me to look
inside. I did and saw that nothing had
been taken. Then she offered to take me
down to her house and let her search that.”

I interrupted Mrs. Fink’s narrative.
“What time did this happen?”

“Shortly after dusk, about 8:30,” Mrs.
Fink answered. “I couldn’t figure out why
two women should be alone on Crumhorn
Mountain at that hour. But it was plain
they hadn’t stolen any of my furniture.

“Then something else happened. I wanted
Mrs. Coo and her friend to leave first, but
the Hunts and I couldn’t outstay them. We
sat down on the steps of my house and
talked, but those two women just stuck
there. Finally we left. When we had gone

a short distance I looked back. I saw that
the big sedan was leaving, too.”
Mrs. Fink stopped talking. Eva Coo

looked calmly at her and a faint smile
touched her lips.

I turned to Eva. “Well?”

“Tt’s true.” Eva spoke quietly, as if the
facts were of no importance. “I was on
Crumhorn Mountain for a few moments
that evening. I just hadn’t thought to men-
tion it to anyone.” ;

“And the woman with you?”

“That was my friend, Martha Clift. We

went there to dig up a few shrubs. We
meant to plant the shrubs about the road-
house.”

I leaned back in my chair, studied Eva’s
face. Her calmness made our suspicions
seem trivial.

“Why,” I demanded, “did you ask Fred
Palmer to say you were home all evening?
Why did you tell him you thought there
might be trouble over Harry Wright’s
death?”

“T don’t recall saying anything like that,”
Eva answered in the same even voice.

I left Mrs. Coo under guard in my office
while I went outside to think things over.
Physicians placed the time of Harry
Wright’s death at about 8:30 p.m., and Mrs.
Fink believed she had seen Mrs. Coo and
Martha Clift on Crumhorn Mountain at
that time. Wright had not been with them,
so it didn’t seem as if they had had any-
thing directly to do with his death.

I questioned Tom Proctor and got noth-
ing. He simply said that he had been so
tight on the evening of June 14th that he
had only the haziest recollection of where
he had been and what had happened to
him. But he was sure he knew nothing of
Wright’s death.

I sent two of my deputies to check his
movements on the fatal night. I also asked
the cooperation of the Oneonta Police in
picking up Martha Clift, Ann Elwood, and
Bea Urban. The Oneonta officers couldn’t
locate the Clift woman but they soon found
Mrs. Elwood and Mrs. Urban. Martha
Clift and Bea Urban shared.a small apart-
ment on Oneonta’s Main Street and Ann
Elwood lived just around the corner.

Now things began to happen with crack-
ling speed. The Oneonta police learned
that Mrs. Elwood and Mrs. Urban pos-
sessed important information.

First, Ann Elwood told of the stranger
situation in the kitchen at Woodbine Inn
when she and Eva Coo had brought intoxi-
cated Tom Proctor back to that spot after
Wright's body had been discovered.

I questioned Proctor again, but got noth-
ing. He couldn’t remember.

Then Mrs. Elwood talked some more.
Mrs. Coo, she said, had remarked: “Ann,
there’s going to be trouble over this. I may
need you to prove I was home on the night
of June 14th.”

There it was again—the same plea from
Eva Coo for help in preparing an alibi!

Our information from Bea Urban was
even more damaging. Mrs. Urban ex-
plained that Martha Clift had reached the
apartment the two women shared around
9 P.M. on June 14th.

“Martha was driving a heavy sedan,”
said Mrs. Urban. “She told me she had

“No wonder we ain’t getting any place—this is a map of
North Dakota!”

we ee j

got it that same afternoon from a garage
in the town of Franklin. At Eva Coo’s
suggestion, Martha said, she told the garage
owner that she wanted to try vhe car out
and that if she liked it she would buy it.
But she really didn’t intend to buy it,
so now she was returning it to the garage.
She asked me to drive over to Franklin
with her, and I agreed. As we drove to-
ward Franklin, she remarked: ‘Harry
Wright’s dead.’”

The implications in this statement were
startling. Martha Clift had made the re-
mark about an hour before Harry Wright's
body was discovered.

Martha Clift was a key figure—to find
her was our next task. But Martha was
elusive. Officers shadowed her apartment
on Main Street. They also watched the
home of her mother on the outskirts of
Oneonta. This went on for hours, without
results.

Then came another break to help us.
Trooper William Cadwell was driving
through Oneonta when a man hailed ‘him
from the sidewalk. The man was a former
schoolmate.

“Hello, Bill,” he said. “I understand the
sheriff and all you boys are investigating
Harry Wright’s death. I believe you think
there was only $460 insurance on him.
You’re wrong.”

“What do you know?” Cadwell leaned
out of his car.

The man was the assistant manager of a
large life insurance company’s local office.
“I know Harry Wright applied for, and
got, a number of policies,” he asserted
stoutly. “Either he applied for them, or
someone else did it for him. They’re in
various companies and they’re for small
amounts, but they total a substantial sum.”

Trooper Cadwell whistled in astonish-
ment, thanked his friend and sped away.

Within five minutes he had relayed the
information to me and our next move
was under way. Two state troopers, Knapp
and Maynard, were sent post-haste to
search Woodbine Inn. When they reached
the place late that Monday afternoon, storm
clouds had gathered. The sky was almost
dark.

Knapp and Maynard entered by way of
the kitchen. From the dimly lighted house
came the shrieks of Eva Coo’s several pet
parrots, the bark of her dog, the cry of
her hungry cat. Knapp and Maynard
slipped into Mrs. Coo’s bedroom.

They started to search the place sys-
tematically, and before long they found
something. Hidden in the bottom of a
bureau drawer were four life insurance
policies made out for small amounts. Two
covered Harry Wright’s life, one protected
Martha Clift, another, Eva Coo herself.

While the troopers were searching, Eva
Coo staged a scene before me in Coopers-
town. She declared that her pet animals
were hungry and insisted that she be
allowed to go home to feed them. She
got hysterical about it.

I thought that, by this time, Troopers
Knapp and Maynard had had time to fin‘sh
their hunt. “All right,” I told her. “You
may go home, feed your animals and ccme
right back. I’ll send my son and Under-
sheriff Brady to guard you.”

Then Eva calmed down. Before she and
her guards left Cooperstown, I sent Ser-
geant John L. Cunningham of the Coopers-
town State Police on ahead to see if
Knapp and Maynard had finished. When
Cunningham arrived, Knapp and Maynard
had just found the four insurance policies,
which they showed to him. On being told
that Eva was on her way back, Knapp and
Maynard hurriedly shoved the four in-
surance policies back into the bureau
drawer where they had found them. Then,
with Cunningham, they rushed outside and

hid in
and m
two gu
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bedroom to
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was on her
The storm
lightning
bine Inn a :
horn Mountai:
rushed back
The officers
bureau drawe:
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They yanked
clothes out o:
each other in
were gone!

F -anticany th
new search. T}
bureau drawers
small dressing t
rug, examined t!
Nothing there.
There was o:
closet, and the
and Maynard b
clothes from th:
not been pinnex
closet was deep
ers had finishe
out, they saw s
It was a smal!
dropped in a

Knapp went
articles, gave
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were policies—}
Knapp came

hands full of pa
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fifteen life insu
the four they ha
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companies on H
March.

counting
accidenta)

Significant. Little
nothing alive, }
dead. And Eva

We had evider
Our aggressive
Grant, was wo:
But Eva wouldn’
capture Martha
bring to light the
Martha was alm:
herself.

It was dusk of
Rain was falling
and throughout +)
searching—search
set young woman
wearing glasses a
under a short lea
description of he

City Marshal }
dark doorway or
address where M
her apartment wi;
there until midnis
the third-story ?:
But Martha didn’:

Outside Oneont
progress. Next to
old unpainted bu
schoolhouse. The:
lived, caring for
From the red barr
Frank Golding of :
watch upon the ho
Clift was not insi

The rain flooded
through the barn’:
the old schoolhou:
passed. The office

64

ture. She told us that Mrs. Coo had some-
times abused Harry Wright physically,
once knocking him down. We began to
see Eva, not as a big-hearted woman moth-
ering her crippled handyman but as a
ruthless woman, using him and killing
him for profit. All our information pointed
toward Eva Coo as the master mind and
Martha Clift as the secondary figure in
the crime.

This led District Attorney Grant to a
new course of action. He offered immunity
to Mrs. Clift if she would tell the truth.
She agreed, and Donald Grant gave her
a certificate of immunity.

Martha Clift started talking in Oneonta
at 1:15 a.m. on Wednesday, June 20th.
When she finished, five hours later, we
had our first view of the fantastic crime—
in outline. Eva Coo heard the news of
Martha’s statement in Cooperstown, and
jumped from her chair with blazing eyes.
She announced that she wanted to confront
Martha and make a statement, so we
rushed her across country to the Oneonta
Jail.

It was a scene [’ll never forget. Eva
against Martha—both powerful of physique,
harassed, tired, yet crafty. Each was primi-
tive, direct, vindictive. They circled about
each other, pointed accusing fingers, raised
voices to a hysterical pitch.

First, Martha’s story. She explained how
she had obtained the Willys-Knight sedan,
at Eva’s suggestion, on the pretense of
purchase. Then she told how Eva Coo had
inveigled Harry Wright into going up
Crumhorn Mountain on the night of
June 14th.

The two women had taken him there
with a tale that they needed him to help
gather shrubs near the haunted house.
Eva’s idea, said Martha. As they drove up
the mountain, Eva had ordered the simple-
minded handyman to crouch down in the
back seat so no one would see him. Pre-
sumably this admonition came because
they were about to get shrubs from private
property.

So Martha had driven the sedan into
the haunted house driveway and had
stepped out. She had gone into the near-by
woods for a few moments. Next she had
heard the car’s motor start—the car seemed
to be going backward and forward. When
she returned, Harry Wright lay dead in
the driveway.

Eva Coo’s big chest heaved when she
heard this accusation. She turned it aside
with the blunt statement: “It’s a lie!”

Now Eva talked.

She first corroborated everything Martha
had said up to the point where the car had
stopped. Then her story differed. She
swore that Martha Clift had returned from
the woods and had climbed into the driver’s
seat. Then she (Eva) and Harry Wright
had started walking down the driveway
in the direction of the haunted house.
Their backs were toward the car.

Suddenly the car had started, borne
down upon them. Eva asserted that she
had jumped out of the driveway to save
herself, but that Martha had knocked
down Harry Wright and had run over his
body. Next Martha had driven the car
behind the haunted house, had swung it
around and returned. On the return trip
she had run over Harry Wright again,
killing him.

An amazing climax had followed. With
the car stopped over the dead man, and
the wheels straddling his body, Mrs. Fink
and the Hunts had come along. Eva had
stood beside the car while she calmly
talked to Mrs. Fink and the Hunts. And
little Harry Wright, with the life crushed
out of him, had actually lain there con-
cealed under that sedan while the Hunts
and their children sat on the porch: three

feet away!

When the Hunts and Mrs. Fink had left,
said Eva, she and Martha had loaded
Wright’s body into their sedan. They had
driven back to a spot near her roadhouse,
and unloaded the body in the ditch. Then
Martha had returned the sedan to its own-
ers, and Eva had gone back to the road-
house.

Obviously these two stories were part
truth, part lies. Each woman wanted to
throw the responsibility for the actual
killing upon the other. District Attorney
Grant was thinking hard; he knew he
would have to have the complete truth
to present in court. He decided on a dar-
ing procedure—a reconstruction of the
crime.

On Thursday, June 21st, we exhumed
Harry Wright’s body. That evening at
dusk we took Eva Coo, Martha Clift and
Harry Wright’s remains up the winding
dirt road to the haunted house on Crum-
horn Mountain. Another storm was threat-
ening the mountain; thunder rolled in our
ears and lightning flashed in our eyes.

First, District Attorney Grant acted the
role of Harry Wright, walking down the
driveway with Eva Coo, just as she said
they had walked. Martha started the
car and bore down upon him. Then Eva
took the wheel, brought the car back to
the point where she said it had stood
when the Hunts and Mrs. Fink were there.

Finally, Wright’s poor broken body,
dressed in a suit of borrowed clothes, was
brought out. It was placed in the various
positions in which the two women had said
it had rested.

The ‘ned results of this grim true life
drama seemed to be—nothing. Eva Coo
and Martha Clift played their parts calmly,
almost indifferently. Each stuck to her
story. In truth they were both so insensi-
tive that I believe we, the surrounding
officers, were much more deeply touched
than they. We hurried them back to the
Cooperstown jail.

But perhaps that tragic scene on the
mountain did. bear fruit the next day. At
any rate, District Attorney Grant suddenly
withdrew the immunity he had promised
Mrs. Clift.

“You have broken your pledge and lied
to me,” he said. ‘Now I can promise
you nothing except to save your life. And
I can’t do that unless I get the complete,
true story.”

Martha Clift stared at him from be-
hind her horn-rimmed glasses. Her eyes
twitched, then she said: “I’ll tell every-
thing.”

Thus the whole story of the brutal mur-
der came out, just as it was revealed at the
famous trial of Eva Coo. Mrs. Clift dic-
tated a twenty-eight-page statement and
signed it.

She detailed how Mrs. Coo had planned
for months to murder Harry Wright in a
way that would appear accidental so
double indemnity could be collected on the
insurance policies.

Eva, said Martha, had discussed locking
Wright in a garage while a car’s motor
was running, so the fumes would kill him.
She had also considered locking him in-
side a car while she sent the car crashing
down a steep hillside into the Susquehanna
River. These plans were dismissed as too
difficult and dangerous.

There were certain preliminaries—Eva
had had her name engraved on‘the Wright
family tombstone to make it appear that
she and Wright were closely allied. Eva
had ordered Martha to write down the
date of Harry Wright’s birth in the Wright
family Bible as 1885. Then Eva had had
the date of Wright’s birth on the family
tombstone changed from 1880 to 1885. We
examined the tombstone and found that

the figure 0 on
changed to 5.

In other words, Eva had lowered Harry
Wright’s age five years because the bene-
fits on certain insurance policies were
greater.

Now as to the killing itself. When Eva
and Martha drove up the mountain with
Harry, the plan, said Martha, was for Eva
to drive the car when they ran down
the handyman. But at the last moment
it was Martha who took the wheel. She
asserted that Eva and Harry got out of
the car in the driveway and walked toward
the haunted house. She, Martha, bore down
upon them. Wright, hearing the car ap-
proaching, tried to jump out of the way.

1880 had indeed been

Ti said Martha, Eva struck the little
handyman on the side of the head with
what appeared to be a small mallet, knock-
ing him in front of the car. The car went
over him, Martha drove on, turned around
behind the house, came back.

But Wright wasn’t dead. Looking up
into Eva Coo’s face, the poor little handy-
man had whispered: “Now I know why
you brought me up here!” Then he was
in the path of the car again; this time the
life was crushed completely from his frail
body.

Then had come Mrs. Fink and the Hunts,
and the amazing situation of a dead man
under the car, already described. A few
moments later Martha and Eva were driv-
ing the death car down the mountain with
their pathetic victim in the back covered
with blankets and sacks.

Martha said that Eva had promised her
two hundred dollars toward the purchase
of a new car for her part in the murder.

There’s not much more to tell. Eva Coo
was tried for murder in the first degree
before a jury in the courtroom at Coopers-
town. When she faced the jury on a hot
August day the courtroom was jammed.
Reporters from all the New York City
papers were present. The county, the state
and the nation watched and waited. A pro-
cession of seventy-two witnesses gave evi-
dence about as I have outlined it here.

Eva Coo was ably defended by Attorney
James Byard, but on the afternoon of
September 7th the farmer jury announced
its verdict of guilty.

Within a few moments Supreme Court
Justice Riley H. Heath of Ithaca, New
York, pronounced sentence—death in the
electric chair.

Martha Clift was allowed to plead guilty
to second-degree murder. In the words of
the judge, she was “sentenced to serve
not less than twenty years nor more than
life in the New York State Prison for Wo-
men at Bedford Hills.”

So the trial was over.

I took Martha Clift away to prison,
and I took Eva Coo down the river to
Sing Sing. Oddly enough, Eva Coo kissed
Martha goodby. That strange blond woman
did not harbor any bitter feelings toward
Martha, or toward her lover, and her two
girl friends who testified so damningly
against her. She declared she still loved
Proctor. The evidence indicated that she
had protected him and had tried to keep
him as far as possible from the scene
of the crime on that fatal night of June
14th.

On June 28th, 1935, after the appeal had
been denied, Eva Coo was electrocuted.

Epiror’s Nore

The names Tom Proctor, Bea Urban,
and Ann Elwood, as used in this story,
are not the real names of the persons
concerned. Pictures of the perpetrators
appear as follows: Eva Coo, page 16;

Martha Clift, page 61.

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STERILIZATION

“LITTLE EVA” COO, ROADHOUSE SADIST
By Ex-Operative 48

ONSTROUS and unnatural
M crimes seem to be associated in
the public mind with the scum
vf great cities. It is true that the out-
standing fiends of all time—the orig-
inal Jack-the-Ripper, Henri Landru,
Jesse Pomeroy, Fritz Haarmann the
cannibal butcher, old Albert Fish—
were city dwellers. But in proportion
to the population, there is just as much
evil in small towns, especially in the
sider States where there are communi-
ties which have “gone to seed.’’ Such
places are fertile soil for degeneracy.
Indeed, I would advocate the most
sweeping use of preventive steriliza-
tion among rural morons. This for
the simple reason that, with fewer hos-
al facilities and looser police super-
vision than in the city, it is best to be
in the safe side, even as regards bor-
der-line cases. My subject this month
is a shocking case which will make the
point clear. It is the story of a coun-
try crime. The motive was unbelieva-
dly sordid, and the murier was con-
ceived and carried out dy strangely
vicious women.

At about 11 o’clock on the night of
June 14, 1934, the phone rang at the
State Troopers’ post at the village of
Schenevus, near Oneonta, in the Sus-
quehanna Valley, New York. Trooper
William Cadwell picked up the re-
ceiver and heard a woman say:

‘Hello! This is Eva Coo. My
handyman, Harry Wright, left here
about seven-thirty o’clock to see about
a painting job at Johnson’s. He’s not
back and I’m worried.”

Cadwell answered that he’d come
right over. He did not need to ask
for directions, because Eva Coo was
well known to him. She ran a road-
house called Woodbine Inn, but usu-
ally spoken of as “Little Eva’s place,”
on the Oneonta-Albany highway. It
was a bit off color, the sportiest resort
for miles around.

VA herself was a sort of mystery

woman. She once had had a husband
in Canada, but had conveniently lost
his address and had drifted to the
Susquehanna Valley of Connecticut.
She was 42 years old, a big-bodied
blonde, loud-voiced and tough. The
night life boys thought it humorous to
call her “Little Eva.’’ Her customers
included many prominent men in the
country—and they generally didn’t
bring their wives along.

When Trooper Cadwell reached
Woodbine Inn, he found Mrs. Coo
in the kitchen with two companions.
They were Mrs. Edna Hanover, a
voungish hanger-on of hers, and Fred
Palmer, a hired man from a_ house
down the road. Eva appeared ner-
vous. She told that Edna and Palmer
had been out with her car a_ short
while before, to look for the missing
Harry Wright. They had been to
Poh's Inn and to Johnson's, where
Wright was supposed to have gone,
ut had failed to get news of him. It
wasn't like him to stay out so late,
and Eva feared that harm had come to
him.

Cadwell promised to make a search.
He left the roadhouse and drove slow-
ly towards Oneonta. He knew the
Coo handyman at sight, a 54-year-old,
shuffling half-cripple; a derelict of the
neighborhood until three years before.

30

eretd weneenacre ne

Little Eva, above: On Handyman Wright, many insur-
ance policies and design for murder. Right, the
borrowed car that brought death in a fiendish scheme

The Expert in Sex Crimes Tells the Drama
Behind a Dastardly Killing by Women
Whose Murderous Tendencies Might
Have Been Thwarted by Sterilization

Since 1931 Mrs. Coo had let him live
at Woodbine Inn, where he did odd
jobs. She had seemed to become quite
attached to him and treated him
kindly.

Gazing sharply to right and left in
the glare created by his headlights,
Cadwell had driven less than 500
yards when he saw a dark mass in a
shallow ditch some ten feet from the
concrete highway. He left his car,
hurried over and _ discovered the
crushed and mangled body of a man.
It was Harry Wright, lying on his
back, his torso caved in, his face
showing bruises and dried smudges of
blood. At first glance there was little
reason to doubt that he had been
struck by a big car or a truck, and that
the impact had sent the body spinning
from the road. A hit-and-run case,
thought Cadwell.

H* phoned to Schenevus and stood
on guard until reinforcements ar-
rived, including Doctor Earl C. Win-
sor, medical examiner for the troop-
ers. Cadwell then returned to Wood-
bine Inn and stepped through the
screen door into the kitchen, without
knocking. Eva Coo started toward
him, asking eagerly whether there was
news of Wright.

“TI found him a little way down the
road—dead,” the trooper answered.
“He was run over.”

Eva uttered a scream. Her friend,
Edna Hanover, whimpered and told
her to brace up, which she did with
considerable speed. The visiting hired
man, Fred Palmer, already had taken
his departure.

The two women then went with
Cadwell to the scene of the tragedy.
Doctor Winsor had completed his ex-
amination. He remarked to the
trooper:

“This man died from a_ crushed
chest. Ribs smashed and the shoul-
ders seem to be broken. There are
signs, however, that he wasn’t killed

ee iz fee Pel tye


down the road with Gimpy when, un-
known to them, Martha returned,
slipped behind the wheel and sent the
car lurching after them. Eva had
jumped out of the way, but Wright
had been knocked down and run over.
Martha had driven the car a short
distance, swung it around and again
crushed Wright’s body!

“What did Mrs. Clift have against
him?” demanded District Attorney
Grant, when he heard this astonishing
tale. ‘““Why should she have deliber-
ately murdered him?”

“I don’t know,” answered Eva, the
beneficiary of thirteen insurance poli-
cies on that warped and feeble life
oe had been so brutally snuffed
out!

“Well, what happened next?” Grant
asked.

Eva was vague concerning the dis-
posal of the body. She did, however,
furnish a blood-curdling detail: Martha
had halted the car immediately over
the dead man, she said, hiding him
from view. At that moment Mrs. Fink,
the owner of the haunted house, had
arrived with her friends, some people
named Hunt. The argument between
Mrs. Fink and Mrs. Coo had taken
place while all that was left of crippled
Harry lay under the sedan. That was
why it had been necessary for Eva
and Martha to outstay Mrs. Fink.

Grant understood that his two pris-
oners were each trying to escape the
electric chair by shifting the blame.
They already had as good as con-

What's Behind the Liggett Case (Continued from Page

him out to me as a tough guy from
downtown, so I used to watch him
and wonder just how tough he really
was.”

To prove that he had recognized
Cann, Andersch declared that immedi-
ately upon reaching home after the
killing—and before hearing any radio
or newspaper reports that might have
given him the information—he had
told his parents that the killer was
Cann. That statement was verified by
Mr. and Mrs. Andersch.

“Wesley told us as soon as he came
into the house that he had seen a man
killed,’ Mrs. Andersch said. ‘He
didn’t know the name of the man that
was killed, but he said right away that
the murderer was Kid Cann. He had
just finished telling us when there was
a radio broadcast saying that the dead
man was Liggett.”

PRES GAS URS were delighted with
the new witness. His testimony might
be even more valuable than Mrs. Lig-
gett’s against Kid Cann because he
would be recognized by the jury as a
disinterested party, while the widow
might possibly have borne ill will
against Cann for the beating her hus-
band had received allegedly at the
hands of Cann on the street a few
weeks before his death.

Joyously predicting an early con-
viction, the state moved for prompt
trial of Cann. In charge of the prose-
cution were placed Assistant Attorney
Generals Frederick A. Pike and Roy
C. Frank, with Assistant County At-
torney Peter S. Neilson to work with
them.

Retained for Cann’s defense was At-
torney Thomas W. McMeekin of St.
Paul, whose brilliant performances in
murder and kidnaping trials in recent
years has won for him the reputation
of being one of the nation’s most able
criminal lawyers. Friends of Cann
raised funds for McMeekin’s fee—
which was reported to have been $15,-
000—as well as to retain William C.
Dannenberg, former G-Man and now
a private investigator of wide repute.

The trial opened on January 29 be-
fore District Judge Arthur W. Selover.
Most important of the state’s case was
the testimony of Mrs. Liggett and Wes-
ley Andersch—and it was upon their
identification of his client that Mc-
Meekin blasted away with his heaviest
guns.

Although she had been advised not
to mention Governor Olson’s name in
her accusation of the defendant, At-

victed themselves of first-degree man-
slaughter. But that was not enough
to satisfy justice.

Grant thought the matter over for
a couple of days. He then notified
Martha Clift that her obvious bad
faith compelled him to withdraw his
promise of immunity. She would have
to face a joint indictment with Eva

00.

This threw the twenty-seven-year-
old, mannish suspect into a panic. She
took off her horn-rimmed = glasses,
— tears from her eyes and prom-
ised:

“If you’ll save my life, I’ll give you
the whole story, so help me God!”

Grant agreed.

i Terriers is ample justification for the
belief that she now told the truth, for
she did not spare herself. Whether
immunity, partial or otherwise, ever
should be used as a dicker with one
so guilty, is another question. Ethi-
cally, it was fantastic that Eva Coo
should be punished to the limit, while
Martha Clift got off lightly. But the
law in New York State permitted it.

The second Clift confession was in
the form of a 28-page statement, dic-
tated and signed by the witness. She
began by explaining how Eva Coo had
plotted with her for almost a year to
kill Harry Wright and make it seem
like an accident. The object was to
collect double indemnity on his life
insurance. Martha was to get part of
the plunder, which she intended to use

to buy a new car.

The evening they went up to Crum-
horn Mountain, it had been under-
stood until the last minute that Eva
was to be at the wheel when Wright
was run over. But she was not ac-
customed to handling a heavy sedan.
The murderesses exchanged glances.
Wordlessly they arranged that Martha
should do the actual killing.

In the driveway of the haunted
house, Eva and Harry left the car and
walked down the road side by side,
supposedly to search for shrubs. Then,
asserted Martha, she launched the se-
dan forward at top speed. Wright at-
tempted to jump out of the way, but
Eva struck him on the temple with a
small mallet she had concealed in her
clothes. The blow knocked him flat
in front of the wheels, which passed
over his body. Then Martha circled
around the house, drove straight at
him a second time, callously steered a
wheel so that it would smash his torso,
and halted with the chassis of the car
above him. Not even his legs were
sticking out. This made it possible to
bluff Mrs. Fink and the Hunts when
the latter came on the scene.

The closing act of the tragedy had
been to wrap Gimpy’s body in blankets
and sacks, stow it in the back seat and
take it to the highway near the Inn,
where it would seem logical that the
victim had been killed by a hit-and-
run driver.

On the strength of the above, Eva
Coo was indicted for murder in the

Immediately after his acquittal Kid Cann went to the barber shop
where he is shown surrounded by his friends who supplied his alibi

torney McMeekin managed to trap
Mrs. Liggett on cross-examination in-
to declaring she believed the state’s
chief executive responsible in some de-
gree for the murder of her husband.
Just as McMeekin had expected, the
remark had an unfavorable effect on
the jury from the prosecution stand-
point, as Governor Olson is popular
in Minneapolis.

But it was with Andersch on cross-
examination that McMeekin delivered
his most telling blows.

E DWELT heavily upon Andersch

having been with Miss Isaacson
when she rented her apartment and,
upon cross-examination of Hartman,
managed to have the caretaker declare
a belief that the couple was living
together.

And when he called his defense wit-
nesses, McMeekin included a dozen
persons who testified that Andersch’s
reputation for truth and veracity was
bad, several declaring they would not
believe him under oath. Others said
they had lost money through associat-
ing with Andersch, that he went under
various names and that he was known
to pose as a soldier.

The defense lawyer went on to build
up a theory that Andersch had not
recognized the persons in the murder
ear, that he had run up after the kill-
ing and heard Mrs. Liggett mention
the name of Kid Cann and that he had,
in order to make an impression, told
his parents of having witnessed the
killing and recognized the assassin.

Continuing his masterful defense,
McMeekin made the audacious move
of calling four Minneapolis police offi-
cers as defense witnesses—men whose
duty would indicate that they should
testify for the state.

The policemen, all of whom worked
on the case immediately after Liggett
was killed, described the widow as
highly disturbed and almost irrational
immediately afterward, and said that
she first declared that either Kid Cann
or else one of Governor Olson’s gang
must have killed Walter.”

In addition to being uncertain of the
identity of the assassin immediately
after the killing, the officers said, Mrs.
Liggett first declared the murder car
was a coupe instead of a sedan, and
made other conflicting statements.

Attorney McMeekin disposed of the
eye-witnesses’ testimony in his clos-

first degree. She came to trial late in
August, 1934, at Cooperstown, N. Y.,
before Judge Riley H. Heath. The trial
lasted until September 7, when a ver-
dict of guilty was reached quickly by
a jury of farmers. She was sentenced
to death.

Martha Clift was then allowed to
take a plea of second-degree murder.
She drew the comparatively mild
“stretch” of twenty years to life.

Eva’s behavior following her con-
viction was philosophical, courageous
—almost happy-go-lucky. As she was
being taken from the court-room she
stopped and kissed Martha good-by.
She said that she bore no ill will
against Harry Nabinger, Gladys Shum-
way and Edna Hanover, who all had
appeared as witnesses against her. She
was a model prisoner in the death
house at Sing Sing.

Wipe appeals which delayed her exe-
cution were rejected, and each time
she shrugged the bad news aside with
a grin. On the night of June 27, 1935,
she walked steadily to the electric
chair, smiled at the two matrons who
accompanied her, said ‘‘Good-by, Darl-
ings!” and died.

The real horror lies in the fact that
the Eva Coos and the Martha Clifts
are allowed to degenerate until they
are homicidal maniacs. If those two
women had been sterilized in time,
they never would have gone to the
length of the cold-blooded, horrible
and sadistic butchery of Harry Wright.

20)

ing remarks to the jury by declaring
Mrs. Liggett was too shocked to be be-
lieved, or to be expected to recognize
the killer at a time when her husband
was falling dead before her, and that
Andersch could not be believed under
any circumstances.

Kid Cann took the witness stand
briefly to deny any knowledge of the
murder or any enmity toward Liggett.

As has been previously pointed out,
Mrs. Fawcett was not called to tell
what she might know about the con-
ference that Liggett and Cann had in
her apartment the night before the
publisher was beaten on the street and
on the eve of his trial on sex charges
involving two minor girls.

Another sensation came near the
close of the trial when Meyer Schuld-
berg openly charged that two members
of the Minneapolis police department
had approached him two weeks after
the murder with a promise to “fix the
rap against Cann” for $10,000.

CHULDBERG was called before the

grand jury, but was reported to have
refused to name the officers, and
Mrs. Liggett declared that she knew
all about the matter.

“A certain hoodlum went to police
headquarters the night after Walter
was killed and offered $500 to see Kid
Cann,” she declared. ‘The hoodlum
wanted to be hired by Cann for $5,000
to kill me or frighten me away from
testifying.

“He didn’t get to see Cann, but he
later approached Schuldberg through
the two policemen. By that time An-
dersch also had identified Cann, so the
price was increased. The _ officers
offered to keep both myself and An-
dersch off the stand, either by murder
or intimidation, for $10,000.”

Regardless of what may have been
the exact nature of the bribery offer,
no basis for prosecution ever was un-
covered. The grand jury inquiry end-
ed without Mrs. Liggett having been
called as a witness, and this matter
also was dropped.

On the evening of February 18—
only a day after Chicago gangsters had
been rumored to have been present at
the trial, and armed guards had been
placed in court against them—Cann’s
fate was given into the hands of the
jury of four women and eight men.

The jury took one ballot, reached
a verdict and demanded to be taken
to a final dinner at the state’s expense.
They chatted and laughed over their
meal while Cann, thirty pounds light-

37


STERILIZATION—"Little Eva" Coo, Roadhouse Sadist (Continued from Page 31)

She asked me to drive over to Frank-
lin with her and I agreed. As we drove
toward Franklin, she remarked: ‘Har-
ry Wright's dead.’”’

Fred Palmer, too, had a meaningful
tale to tell. He began by asserting that
he had been at Woodbine Inn most of
the evening, enjoying the radio, and
that Eva Coo had been there.

“But was she in all evening?” he
was asked.

The hired man hesitated, then ad-
mitted that when he had first stopped
by at 7 p.m. the lights had been on,
yet no one was home. He had re-
turned a little after 9 p.m. and Eva
had admitted him.

“I stayed until after Wright’s body
was found,” he said.

Pressed to declare if he knew of
anything else suspicious, Palmer stat-
ed reluctantly:

“Eva Coo came over the next morn-
ing and asked Mrs. Meyers (Palmer’s
employer) and me to help her out. She
said if anybody inquired where she
was on the evening of June fourteenth,
to say she was home. She seemed wor-
ried. She said she thought there might
be trouble over Harry Wright’s death.”

The sum total of all this boiled down
to three sinister points. Eva Coo had
been trying to build an alibi, despite
the fact that Trooper Cadwell and the
medical examiner had accepted the
theory of an accident. Harry Nabinger
had dropped dark hints of a murder
plot. And grimmest of all, Martha
Clift, absent, perhaps a fugitive, had
told of Wright’s end more than one
hour before his battered corpse was
located.

ONEONTA police officers joined the
State troopers and the Sheriff’s men
in the hunt for the Clift woman. It was
also decided to take Eva Coo into cus-
tody for questioning. But before either
result could be accomplished, vital new
evidence was turned up by William
Cadwell, the same trooper who had
found the body.

Cadwell shrewdly questioned a local
insurance agent named Earl Ames and
learned that a large number of policies
had been applied for in the name of
Harry Wright.

“The policies are in various com-
panies and they’re for small amounts,”
said Ames, “but they total a consider-
able sum.”

Of more immediate import was the
story of a Mrs. Fink, whom Cadwell
interviewed on a tip. This woman
owned an abandoned residence on
Crumhorn Mountain, behind Oneonta.
It was filled with old-fashioned furni-
ture, which might have had some
value to collectors. People called it
“the haunted house.”

Mrs. Fink declared that at about 8:30
on the evening of the 14th she had
chanced to be driving on Crumhorn
Mountain with friends. A neighbor
stopped her car and told her that
strangers were in the vicinity of the
ramshackle building. Fearing that
they were robbers, Mrs. Fink had gone
over to the “haunted house.” She saw
a car standing in the driveway there,
its headlights directed towards the
main road.

“T eased into the driveway a short
distance, then I got out and walked up
to the strange car, which was a heavy
sedan. Mrs. Eva Coo was standing be-
side the mudguard. Inside, at the
wheel, there was another woman whom
I didn’t know. She was wearing horn-
rimmed glasses.”

But Trooper Cadwell knew who that
other woman must have been. Martha
Clift wore horn-rimmed glasses. Mar-
tha Clift had borrowed a heavy sedan
from a Franklin garage. What would
this lead to?

“T asked Mrs. Coo if she had taken
anything from my house,” Mrs. Fink
went on. “She denied it quite heated-
ly. She told me to look inside the car
if I doubted her word. I did so, and
saw that nothing had been taken. I
hoped Mrs. Coo and her friend would
leave at once. But they didn’t budge.
I finally went away. After I had driv-
en some distance I looked back and

36

saw that the sedan was following us
slowly.”

A few hours after Mrs. Fink had
made her statement, Sheriff Mitchell
asked her to repeat it in his. office at
Cooperstown, in the presence of Eva

Coo. The latter had been brought
there on the Sheriff’s orders. She lis-
tened coolly to the recital. Then she

said: .

“That is all true. I was on Crum-
horn Mountain for a short while that
evening. It didn’t occur to me to men-
tion it to anybody. Gimpy’s death put
it out of my mind, I guess.”

“Who was the woman with you?”

“Martha Clift. I wanted some shrubs
to plant around the Inn, and Martha
went up there with me to dig them.”

“Where is Martha Clift now?”

“T don’t know.”

“Why did you ask Edna Hanover,
Mrs. Meyers and Fred Palmer to say
that you had been home the entire
evening?”

“I don’t recall saying anything like
that to anybody,” Eva replied in level
tones.

There was not a great deal to go up-
on. Harry Wright had not been seen

held under technical arrest, while the
authorities continued to probe for the
truth. :

It was at this point that my atten-
tion was attracted to the case. I visited
Oneonta, not with the idea of helping
on the detective work, which was al-
ready in competent hands, but to study
the background of the suspected per-
sons. I had the feeling that below the
surface was a canker of depravity,
which might serve to explain what had
happened. The reader can judge for
himself whether my hunch was cor-
rect,

| QUICKLY discovered the Eva Coo's
good-hearted, generous treatment of
her drunken lover and crippled handy-
man mirrored only one side of her na-
ture. She was subject to violent fits
of temper, during which she behaved
with morbid cruelty, She had often
abused Harry Wright physically, and
at least once had knocked him down.
She was a sadist. I got this informa-
tion from Gladys Shumway, who later
included it in her formal testimony.
With regard to Harry Nabinger, the
situation was more subtle. Eva ap-

the country over.

New York's Most Wanted Man

HE Honorable Lewis J. Valentine, Commissioner of Police in New
York City, has been asked to name New York’s Most Wanted
Man (or Woman). The Commissioner declines, for he does not have
a wanted man or woman important enough to be set forth under the
Commissioner’s name and dignified as such; nor does he have one
worthy of the high aims and sincere purpose that motivates OFFICIAL
DETECTIVE STORIES in publishing names and histories of hunted
lawbreakers. With the capture of Lucky Luciano, the Commissioner
believes ‘that the slate of big-name wanted men has been wiped clean,
leaving only “young punks” and minor crooks. It would be unworthy
of the Department to make a big issue of a minor malefactor. How-
ever, the Commissioner has said that, should a really desperate law-
breaker be wanted especially, and if it becomes publicly known that
that lawbreaker is wanted, he will be only too glad to avail himself
of the opportunity to broadcast the Wanted Man’s description in
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES. And he compliments this publi-

cation on its splendid co-operation with law-enforcing organizations

driving with the Coo and Clift women,
and it was Wright’s death that was be-
ing investigated. However, the Sheriff
detained Eva and asked two troopers,
Knapp and Maynard, to search the
Woodbine Inn.

The troopers returned before long
with fifteen insurance policies which
they had found hidden under a heap of
soiled clothes in a closet. One was on
the life of Eva Coo and another on that
of Martha Clift. But there were thir-
teen policies in the name of Harry
Wright, and seven of these had been
taken out the preceding March. The
double indemnity clause in case of ac-
cidental death brought the total of
Gimpy’s “protection” to $10,000.

Then Wright’s will was discovered
in the hands of a local attorney. It
named Eva Coo as his sole beneficiary.

Tae night Martha Clift was appre-
hended as she sought to enter the
farmhouse where her mother lived. She
was rushed to Cooperstown, the county
seat, questioned by Sheriff Mitchell
and District Attorney Donald Grant,
and confronted with Eva Coo. Neither
woman could be induced to make dam-
aging admissions. They held to their
story of an innocent trip to the moun-
tain to dig up shrubs. Martha Clift
denied that she had told Gladys Shum-
way, between 9 and 10 p.m. on the
14th, that Wright was dead. Eva in-
sisted that she was heartbroken over
the tragedy, and that she had not been
aware she stood to benefit financially.
Nevertheless, the dubious pair was

peared to enjoy having him in her
power. She gave him all the booze he
wanted, as well as pocket money to
frequent the bars in town. She took
her price by using him in various hu-
miliating ways. Nabinger had been in-
sured for a while for $1,000, but that
policy had been allowed to lapse after
the first payment. Thereafter he had
written many letters under Eva’s di-
rection, arranging for the various pol-
icies on Gimpy’s life. The applications
were nearly all in Nabinger’s hand,
though Wright had signed them.

Frankly, Harry Nabinger had been
so excessive a drinker that he could
not have made a very satisfactory lov-
er for a woman of Eva Coo’s lusty
type.. This set me to thinking, and I
dug beneath the surface in connection
with her three female pals, Martha
Clift, Edna Hanover and Gladys Shum-
way.

They were known as the “party
girls” of Woodbine Inn, and of Edna
and Gladys there is nothing to be said
beyond that. But Martha Clift, for-
merly a wife and the mother of two
children, was a clinical problem. I
found it to be notorious throughout the
section that Martha and Eva had been
involved in a Lesbian relationship.
Martha, with her mannish stride and
her horn-rimmed glasses, had been the
real “sweetheart” of the rowdy road-
house keeper.

Can any one doubt that these women
should have been sterilized for the
protection of society? Eva Coo is not
known to have had offspring. So much

the better. As a matter of fact, ster-
ilization would have been the right
thing for the whole circle of female
wasters who contributed to the mor-
onic pleasures of Woodbine Inn. The
treatment would at least have curbed
their antisocial impulses.

A recent news item from Berlin
states that sterilization through the
use of X-rays is the latest development
in the campaign of the German Gov-
ernment to prevent the birth of child-
ren to “biologically unsound persons.”
This practise makes operations un-
necessary and is therefore called safer
and cheaper. Radium rays also can be
used. The method is being specially
applied to women over 38 years old.
It answers the objections of those in
the United States who are willing to
have males sterilized, but dread the
major operation needed for women.

7° RETURN to the Oneonta enigma,

District Attorney Grant and Sheriff
Mitchell became morally convinced
that Wright had been murdered. They
checked Harry Nabinger’s alibi for
the night of the fatality and found that
it was unshakable. Nor could they
get the boozer to admit that his cryp-
tic remarks about having seen Wright
five minutes before he died, as well
as the fears he had expressed for his
own life, had been anything but
“liquor talking.” Nabinger swore that
he knew of no plot. Edna Hanover
and Gladys Shumway plainly were
innocent.

It was now the belief of the law offi-
cers that Eva Coo had destroyed her
handy-man in order to collect his in-
surance money, and that Martha Clift
had been an accessory. But evidence to
pin the crime on them was lacking.

The District Attorney decided then
to offer immunity to Martha Clift if
she would tell all that she knew. She
accepted, and on June 20 she made a
long verbal statement which she would
not sign. There were to be three stor-
ies, two by Martha and one by Eva.

Martha’s first was a clumsy at-
tempt to clear herself, though she con-
fessed enough to reveal the essentials
of the scheme. She said that Eva had
talked her into borrowing the sedan
in Franklin and making the trip to
Crumhorn Mountain. Eva had order-
ed poor, shuffling Harry Wright to go
with them, telling the handyman that
they needed him to dig up ‘shrubs.
Eva had made him crouch down in
the back seat, on the pretense that
they were going to trespass on private
property and that it would be danger-
ous for him to be seen.

HEN they reached the haunted

house, Martha had left the car and
gone by herself into the woods to
search for shrubs. Suddenly she heard
the car’s motor sputtering. Eva had
started it up and seemed to be driv-
ing back and forth. Martha thought
this odd, so came hurrying back. To
her dismay, she saw the dead body
of Harry Wright lying in the drive-
way. Eva had terrorized her into
placing the corpse in the car. They
had driven to the spot where it was
later found and tossed it into the
ditch. Then Martha had taken the
sedan back to its owners.

“What was the motive for this mon-
strous killing?” she was asked.

Mrs. Clift replied that, so far as she
knew, there had been no motive.

As a confession, it was absurd. But
it proved extremely useful in breaking
the case. When Eva Coo was informed
about her pal’s statement, she boiled
with rage and denounced it as a lie.
She offered to make one of her own.
It was expected that she would deny
that Wright had accompanied them to
the haunted house.

To the astonishment of her hearers,
she admitted everything that Martha
had said about taking the car up to
the mountains with Harry Wright hid-
den in the back seat. She declared it
was true that Martha had gone off
alone into the woods. But at this point
their stories diverged. Unsuspecting
Little Eva, it appeared, had started

ot ee ae

instantly. Do you have any reason to
think this might not have been an
accident?”

Cadwell replied that there was only
one peculiar circumstance: Wright’s
body was on the wrong side of the
road to have been hit head-on. Never-
theless, the force of the blow might
have whirled him around, so that he
fell on his back in the car’s path.

Doctor Winsor nodded. Both he and
Cadwell signed reports containing no
hint of foul play. Eva Coo and Edna
Hanover were allowed to go home.
Presently an undertaker arrived and
removed the body of the handyman.
There would be only one more formal-
ity—an autopsy under police super-
vision in the town of Oneonta the next
morning.

The autopsy showed that most of
Wright’s ribs had been broken, as well
as both shoulder-blades. The bruises
on his face might or might not have
been inflicted before he was struck by
the death-car. But there was one de-
cidedly curious revelation. The man’s
body had been run over twice, and
from opposite directions. The marks
made on clothing by the wheels proved
that the same car had caused the dou-
ble set of injuries.

WILE the State Troopers sought the
unknown suspect of this hit-and-
run killing, there was no legal advan-
tage in delaying the funeral. It was held
on the 16th, Eva Coo advancing the
costs and attending as a mourner at
the nearby village of Portlandville,
where there was a Wright burial plot.
She produced an insurance policy for
$460 held by the dead man, a funeral
policy, from which her expenses
would be recouped. Nothing could
have been more normal. There was
no hint as yet of the part that insur-
ance was to play in this weird affair.
In addition to the activities of the
State Troopers, Sheriff George H.
Mitchell of Otsego County started a
quiet investigation, to satisfy himself

that all was on the up-and-up. Eva
had stated that she had been at her
roadhouse the entire evening of the
14th. That seemed logical, since it was
her business to wait around for cus-
tomers. But what about the other
residents and habitues of Woodbine
Inn?

HE free-and-easy Eva had a lover,

who lived with her openly at the Inn.
He was Harry Nabinger, a former
traveling salesman who had come
there to sell a furnace and never had
moved on. The gossips said that he
had a wife and five children in De-
troit. Nabinger was a heavy drinker.
He was so constantly befuddled with
liquor that people wonderered why
Eva stood for him. The handyman,
Harry Wright, had been a boozer, too.
She was given credit for a strong ma-
ternal instinct, because she supported
these two wasters.

That fatal evening of the 14th Harry
Nabinger had been in Oneonta, mak-
ing a round of the bars. After the dis-
covery of the body Eva had driven

'

to town with Edna Hanover and
brought Nabinger home. He had been
very tight. Questioned by the police,
he declared at first that he knew noth-
ing about the events of the evening.
But he was to have some queer re-
marks pinned on him before long.
Edna Hanover was one of three wo-
men who were so friendly with Little
Eva of the Woodbine Inn that the
community regarded them as a special
group. The others were Martha Clift
and Gladys Shumway. All had been
married. All were now living a gay
bachelor life, according to the stand-
ards of Oneonta. Mrs. Clift and Mrs.
Shumway shared an apartment on the
main street, and Edna Hanover had a
place around the corner from them.
They spent most of their spare time at
Little Eva’s, where they supplied the
feminine companionship at none too re-
spectable drinking parties gotten up by
local sports or passing motorists,

Mrs. Martha Clift, above: She drove the death car on its bone-
crushing expedition and, left, Harry Nabinger: He loved and
drank not wisely but too well

The authorities were anxious, nat-
urally, to quiz Edna, Gladys and Mar-
tha as quickly as possible. But only
the first two could be found early
that week. Martha Clift had vanished.
She was suposed to have gone to a
rundown farm in the country, where
her mother lived with Martha’s two
children.

PONA HANOVER’S story contained
significant details. She had entered
the Inn at 10 p.m. on the 14th, where
she found Eva and her neighbor, Fred
Palmer, listening to the Baer-Carnera
championship prize-fight on the radio.
The roadhouse keeper’s first question
had been to ask her if she had seen
“Gimpy,” as Harry Wright was called
around the Inn. Edna had said No,
and had tried to concentrate on the
fight news. But she could not help
noticing that Eva was getting more and
more jittery, and at 10:40 she had

One of the insur-
ance notes that
was introduced as
an exhibit at the
sensational trial

agreed to make the trip with Palmer
to try and locate Gimpy. Then Eva
had phoned the State Troopers. The
ghastly discovery in a ditch off the
highway had followed.

Eva’s next idea had been to find
Nabinger. On the ride to Oneonta, the
roadhouse keeper had brooded over
Wright’s fate and had muttered almost
tearfully: .

“I’m glad I had him put on clean
underwear this morning.”

When Nabinger was picked up, bare-
headed and reeling on the sidewalk.
Eva had attempted to make him un-
derstand what had happened to Gimpy.
But it was not until they were back in
the parlor of the Inn that the meaning
of the words penetrated his stupefied
brain. Stiffening abruptly, he had
said:

“You think you know so much about
it! I saw him not five minutes before
he died and five minutes after he left
the house. He did not die where he
was found.”

VA COO had turned pale, had de-
manded if he knew what he was

saying, and had silenced him with a
stiff drink of whiskey which knocked
him out cold. The next day, he had
exclaimed, referring to his besotted
condition:

“If I ever get hit by a car. you, won’t
have to hire someone to kill me!”

And Eva had cautioned her girl
friend, in connection with Wright's
death: “Edna. there’s going to be
trouble: over this. I may need you to
prove I was home on the night of June
fourteenth.”

So much for Edna Hanover’s version
of events. Gladys Shumway, who had
not been at the Inn that day. contrib-
uted a short but highly important
statement. At about 9 p.m. on the
14th, she said, Martha Clift had re-
turned to their joint apartment.

“Martha was driving a heavy sedan,”
Gladys testified. “She told me that she
had got it that same afternoon from a
garage in the town of Franklin. At
Eva Coo’s suggestion, Martha said, she
had told the garage owner that she
wanted to try the car out and that if
she liked it she would buy it. But she
really didn’t intend to buy it, so now
she was returning it to the garage.

(Continued on Page 36)

31


“v

COOKE, samuel Lol NY 4M 2 — |

valbany, NY; dune <7, 17913: On Friday las
(June <4, 1791) was executed at Jonnstown pur-
suant to the sentence oi the Vourt of Over &
Tercminer held at that place for the County of
Montgomery in November lust, samuel Cooke for
forgery. His execution hud been twice respited
by dis Excellency the Governor and on account
of his advanced age, (being in his elgnty-fourth
year), it was pretty generclly expected His Ex-
cellency would have finally reprieved him,"

GA ZETT£, Providence, RI, July 16, 1791.

"Samuel Cook, aged 84 years, condemned to be

hanged for forgery. "June, 1791; ALBANY HRONI-
eres, ‘Compiled by Guyler Reéyno ds; J. B. Lyon Go.

a eee nner,

' Printens,. Albany, 1906


ler

from Coo in which she admitted that
she drove the vehicle when it crushed
out Wright’s life. At this point, Grant
demanded that Coo surrender the
original agreement and he charged her
with first-degree murder but signed a
waiver in which he promised to al-
low her to plead guilty to second-de-
gree murder which would carry a 20-
year-to-life sentence if she would

- ell the truth.”

The Grand Jury returned an indict-
ment on June 29 and a panel of trial
jurors began to hear evidence on Aug.
15th. It’s interesting to note that
while a woman could die for her
crime, only men under the age of sev-
enty could sit in judgment at that
Because neither prisoner had tan-
gible assets, the county appointed
Clermont G. Tennant to represent
Clift and Everett B. Holmes and
James Byard to represent Coo. Each
was allowed $1,000 plus expenses.

It was Byard’s first murder trial
and he had little to work with. He
could not get a change of venue.
When he wanted Wright’s body ex-
humed to see whether there had been
a blow to the head, it was Aug. 11th
before the order could be executed
and by then the body was so decom-

posed that the coffin was quickly

closed.

42-year-old Donald Grant had pros-
ecuted and received convictions in
two second-degree murder cases.
Ironically, he was no stranger to Eva
Coo. He had acted for her three times:
once for a violation of the Volsted
Act, once to draw up a deed, and once
in reference to an automobile acci-
dent. In 1931 he had also prosecuted
her when she was indicted for main-
taining a roadhouse as a nuisance.

Some 74 witnesses appeared for
the state and 17 for the defense and
yet after only two hours of deliber-
ation, the jury brought in a verdict of
first-degree murder on Sept. 6, 1934.
Clift pleaded guilty to second-degree
murder and was sentenced to 20 years
to life. Coo’s sentence was to die in
Sing Sing’s electric chair. These acts
of retribution should have ended the
case, but instead it only opened it up
for the bizarre acts that were to fol-
low.

On Sept. 7th, Coo bade farewell to
her lover as well as Shumway and
Hanover. In tears she embraced Clift
before each entered separate cars,
Coo bound for Sing Sing and Clift for

nearby Bedford Hills where as one
newspaper put it, “Tattletale Martha”
would enter prison, “her 20 pieces of
silver for playing Judas (to) be 20
years in Bedford Reformatory.”

Coo’s vehicle also carried Sheriff
and Mrs. Mitchell, Jim Byard, a dep-
uty and reporter. Near their destina-
tion, a hearse there to receive the re-
mains of Alphonse Brengard, a
recently electrocuted prisoner, acci-
dentally joined the procession, direct-
ly behind the car that carried Eva.
This omen of doom did not appear to
affect her.

She was placed in a cell recently
vacated by Anna Antonio who killed
her husband for his insurance and in
turn paid the supreme penalty. A stay
of execution was granted to give her
lawyers time to prepare notes for an
appeal.

By now, Sheriff and Mrs. Mitchell
were back in Cooperstown and they
were hopping mad. The sheriff had
learned to savor fame and his role in
bringing Eva to justice had not been
recognized at Ossining. He fired off a
letter to Warden Lewis E. Lawes in
which he complained that he was “a-
mazed and humiliated” at the treat-
ment he and his party received at Sing
Sing. He said that he was met by two
guards who “rudely snatched” the
prisoner from his hands and when
“my wife who is matron of Otsego
County jail asked if she could not say
goodbye to Mrs. Coo, she was told
that she had seen the last of Mrs. Coo
and all of us were told to get out.”

He threatened to bring charges
against the warden’s secretary who
was in charge. He sent a copy of the
letter to the State Commission of Cor-
rection and he set up a news confer-
ence at which time he also gave a
copy of the letter to each reporter.
When he met the press, he did not
hesitate to claim that the guards and
others they contacted while deliv-
ering the prisoner were all under the
influence of liquor. He intimated that
Mr. Byard, too, might soon enter a
complaint.

In those days, to complain to or
about Warden Lawes was equivalent

‘to complaining to or about God Al-

mighty. He had written several books
on criminal justice and was revered
on such radio shows as “Gangbus-
ters.” Reputedly, his prison was the
model and other wardens would do
well to imitate but should never ex-
pect to reach Sing Sing’s standards of

excellence.

The warden replied that “while
there may have been some abrupt-
ness,” all official prison rules had
been followed. He reminded Mitchell
of the size, efficiency and importance
of his fiefdom. After severely chastis-
ing the sheriff for his “discourtesy” in
giving a copy of the letter to the press,
he countered by doing the same. In
this battle of egos, David’s pebble had
only ricocheted off Goliath’s armor,
but Goliath would not forgive nor
forget. He would wait for his oppor-
tunity to exterminate these upstarts.

His first opportunity came when in
November, a New York City tabloid
ran a series of articles entitled “The
Life And Good Times of Eva Coo,”
written in the first person. It was al-
leged that Eva wrote this, her life sto-

For an inmate to pass on such a sto-
ry would constitute “a serious viola-
tion of the rules and regulations of the
Department of Corrections” and the
warden felt compelled to bring it to
the attention of the proper authorities.
He asked The State Commission of.
Correction for an investigation at
which time he volunteered to testify
to his innocence in the affair.

At the hearing in New York City,
he testified that on Sept. 19th he was
served a court order to permit Eva’s
attorney, James Byard and John Kobl-
er to visit the prisoner in order to
“transact certain business.” Mr. Kobl-
er was introduced as a court stenog-
rapher while in fact he was a news-
paper man. Coo, Lawes, two
chaplains and two prison employes
swore that Eva was not the author of
the story and that it was obtained by
misrepresentation.

The Commission determined that
the stories “were not in fact written
by Eva and were published over her
protest to prison officials.” They
turned the testimony over to the State
Bar Association. That took care of
one of Lawe’s antagonists.

Prison officials suggested to Eva
that Slade & Slade, a New York City
law firm, might be willing to replace
Byard in her appeal so she wrote to
them. In part the letter said, “After I
was sent here, my lawyer wrote my
life’s story in the Sunday Mirror
which was a terrible story, and I
have been told he received from
$3,000 to $5,000. for it.” Justice
Heath dismissed Byard and Holmes

_ (continued on next page)
45

rr

ae ee ne ee


12,000 Volts For The Good-Time Girl

(continued from page 45)

and appointed Slade and Slade. By
now, Eva was practically forgotten
as her old and. new attorneys ex-
changed charges and counter charges.

Slade & Slade finally prepared their
briefs for the Court of Appeals based
on their contention that Nabinger
“knew the real truth,” that Eva should
have testified, and that a change of
venue should have been granted.

They also found time to, on Feb.
28, write a letter to Governor Herbert
H. Lehman in which they asked him
to conduct an_ investigation into
Mitchell’s activities with the intent to
remove him from office. The March
issue of a detective magazine had
printed an article, “The Untold Truth
of the Eva Coo Case by Sheriff
George H. Mitchell as told to A. Mil-
ton Learned.” They claimed that a
public official had no right to write a
story that was prejudicial, thus hurt-
ing the case they would present to the
Court of Appeals on March 4th.

At a hearing in Albany, Mitchell
denied any wrongdoing and said that
he only signed the release as telling
the story to Mr. Learned whereas the
contents were based on court records
obtained by Mr. Learned. Mitchell
denied receiving any compensation.
Lawes’ second antagonist hung on to
his office but was badly shaken.

On April 29, the Court of Appeals
affirmed Coo’s first-degree murder
conviction and denied a new trial.
The seven judges signed her death
warrant and set the week of June 24
for her execution.

At about this time, a court order al-
lowed an old friend of both Coo and
Cliff to visit Coo. She claimed that
during her stay in the county jail, Clift
had been visited by a man who posed
as the Governor of New York who
told Clift that for his co-operation, he
would be freed immediately after
Coo’s execution. County officials
produced affidavits that declared such
a meeting would have been impossi-
ble and claimed the story as absurd.

June 16 was the anniversary of
two events: It was Eva Coo’s 43rd
birthday and the first anniversary of
Harry Wright’s burial. Coo had little
appetite for a chicken dinner and a
*Happy Birthday” cake. In fact by
now her once buxom body was
thin, wasted, and wracked with
pain, her haggard appearance and ner-

46

vousness, the result of sleepless
nights.

A cold, wet towel was wrapped
around her head to cope with splitting
headaches. Even now she could not
understand how she could be held ac-
countable for Wright’s murder when
she had not driven the car. “I never
killed Harry Wright and I never hurt
anybody,” she cried. Meanwhile,
back in Haliburton, Ontario, her sister
said that the family would not claim
her body.

On June 18, Gov. Lehman heard the
plea of attorney Slade in which he
asked for clemency. He not only
claimed that she had been improperly
defended but he also had a brand new
story to replace the one that so often
wouldn’t fly in the past. In it events
changed after Eva and Martha re-
turned from Worcester. Now, Wright
was standing on a ladder while paint-
ing the Coo residence and Martha ac-
cidentally struck the ladder with the
car. Wright was unconscious after the
fall.

Slade declared that having once
been a nurse, Coo knew that Wright
was badly hurt or dead, so she
“rushed to the aid of the fallen
Wright” and implored Clift to call a
doctor and the troopers but that Clift
said that she was in trouble enough so
they put the body in the car and drove
to Crumhorn while trying to figure a
way out of their dilemma. Martha be-
came faint so they drove into the Scott
driveway so that she might rest and
calm her nerves. (Just how Mrs. Hunt
and Mrs. Fink could overlook a
corpse on the back seat while they
searched the car was not explained.)

After dropping Eva off at her home,
Martha drove away with the body

- and Eva never saw it again. He con-

cluded with the story about someone
impersonationg the Governor in order
to get Martha to lie. District Attorney
Grant, on the other hand, gave the
same testimony that originally con-
victed her. It was no surprise that the
Governor did not buy Slade’s new
revelations.

What was more suprising was that
when Warden Lawes visited Albany
to personally intervene on Eva’s be-
half, the Governor also turned a deaf
ear to his plea.

Eva eventually turned bitter toward
her friends in Otsego County and she

was joined in this by Warden Lawes.
He mentioned that of the two women
who visited her, one had been en-
tirely clothed in Mrs. Coo’s clothes
except for the shoes. Other so-called
friends had taken her car, piano, ra-
dio, and phonograph. Her attorney
had sold her real estate to recover
what he could get toward legal ex-
penses. Lawes declared that all she
had left was her tombstone and “they
may have taken that.” Coo, in the
meantime had asked that her body be
buried “any place but up there,”
meaning the plot in Portlandville.

June 27 marked one year and thir-
teen days after Wright’s death. That

evening, 34 witnesses, physicians,

guards and newspaper men sat in sol-
emn silence on church like benches in
Sing Sing’s death chamber. This is
what one of them wrote:

“Single file, the group entered the
execution room where the grim
chair stood in the center of a rubber
mat. Leather straps hung out from its
sides, like tentacles of an octopus
seeking to reach out and claim its vic-
tim. There was a death-like silence in
the brilliantly lit room, as each one
filed in, saw the chair and were fi-
nally struck by its significance; the
state was going to exact the full pen-
alty for murder.

“It was noticeable that although
guards directed the file of witnesses
to seats in the order in which they en-
tered the room, some refused to sit in
the front row, barely more than arm’s
length from the ghastly chair. This
representative was placed next to the
wall in the front row at such an angle
that the matrons and the guard be-
tween did not obstruct his view of
the chair.

“Only the slight scribbling of pen-
cils could be heard as the group sat
waiting the entrance of the first vic-
tim. There was a whispered “Here
she comes” and then dead silence
reigned in the execution chamber as
the firm tread of Eva Coo and her at-
tendants were heard in the outside
corridor.

“The two matrons, visibly af-
fected, and with a burly prison atten-
dant between supporting them by the
arm, entered first.

“Eva Coo stepped through the ‘little
green door’ alone and unassisted, then
stopped momentarily. She gave a
quick glance about, the harassed, de-
fiant look of the hunted animal. The

(continued on next page)

tigerish look was gone from her eyes,
but in its stead was the appearance of
a wounded deer, defiant to the end.
“Her head was erect, her shoulders
back, her arms straight at her sides,
and her hands only half clenched, a
handkerchief caught in one. She ap-
peared well groomed, and her hair in
particular looked well. She had asked
that the front of it be shaved, when the
prison barber was preparing her for
the chair, and her request was grant-
ed. From the side, the shaved portion
at the back of the head resembled a
shingle bob, and did not noticeably
mar her appearance. The hair had
been newly cut, curled and bleached,
and looked much better than during
her trial in Cooperstown.
“One quick, almost startled look
about the roomful of silent, awed
witnesses, and then with just the
faintest hint of a sigh of resignation,

she stepped forward firmly to her im-
pending room, the chair.

“She sat down, and laid her head
against the covered board headpiece.
Startled at the lightning speed with
which the five guards began to adjust
the straps, she spoke in a hurried tone
to the two matrons facing her: |

“Goodbye, darlings.”

“A muffled sound came as if she
were trying to speak again as the
blindfold and chin strap were quickly
tied, leaving a middle portion of the
face exposed.

“It seemed only a split second, and
the last guard was pulling at the strap
around her chest. The leather creaked
as he exerted force, and a muffled
moan was heard.

“She did not suffer long.

“As the guard stepped back, it was
the signal for the executioner, Robert
Elliott, to pull down the switch

which sent 3,000 volts coursing

‘through her body from the death cap

to the electrode against thé right leg.
“She strained against the straps, the
leather creaked again, and her chest
heaved despite the tight hold of the
strap. Four times the executioner
pulled down the switch, and four ~
times the body strained in its bind-
ings. There was a slight curl of
smoke at the last.
“Then a guard shielded her from
view as the matrons, who had stood
with closed eyes, shoulders shaking,
turned ‘away, and quickly left the
room. The guard removed the ban-
dages about the face, wiped her face,
mouth and chest with a towel, then
stepped back for the physician to

make his examination.
‘“°T pronounce this woman dead,’
he said.” *

Deadly Claws Of The Tiger Lady

(continued from page 21)

“What has happened?” asked Ar-
mour.

“T killed her.”

“Who are you talking about?
Alberta?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

Both Clara and Armour were rabid
movie fans. The movies bore even
less of a resemblance to actuality in
1922—the period of our story—than
they do today. It is conceivable that
the behavior of Clara and Armour,
and of others who were presently to
emote in this amazing drama, was
conditioned not so much by their own
emotions as by how they had seen
their favorite movie characters behave
on the screen. At any rate, this was—
believe it or not—the way Clara and
Armour were acting when the mur-
deress got home.

“What are you going to do?” asked
Armour.

“I’m awful tired,” said Clara. “I
think I'll go to bed.”

“You better wash that blood off
your dress,” said the man to the
woman who had just killed his mis-
tress.

Armour went outside and noticed
that Clara had driven home in Alberta
Meadows’ little Ford. He was
shocked to learn that his wife was a
car thief.

After a quick bite, Clara, at Ar-
mour’s suggestion, drove the Ford to
Pomona, a suburb, and abandoned it
there. Armour, following, drove Cla-
ra back to Los Angeles and checked
her into a roach trap near the Santa Fe
Railroad station. “I’ll get some jack,”
he said, “and get you off to Mexico
in the morning.”

Next morning Armour put Clara
on a train for E] Paso. “When you get
there,” he said, “just go across the

‘bridge and you’ll be in Mexico.” Ar-

mour had learned from some oil-stock
promoters that the United States did
not have an extradition treaty with
Mexico. He handed Clara some
money and a morning newspaper.
“There’s a piece on the front page,”
he said. “They found the body but
they don’t know who it is yet.”

Armour bought a paper himself and
read about the murder. Alberta Mead-
ows had had her brains bashed in by
the head of a hammer, had been dis-
emboweled by the claw end of the
tool and then had had a 40-pound
boulder rolled on her. That, Armour
reflected, was just like Clara. Al-
ways overdoing it. The hammer,
found at the crime scene after a couple
of scenery fans had reported the body,
had been wielded with such fury that
its handle was broken.

Armour walked the streets for a
couple of hours, stopping to look in

shop windows at such items as caps
and patent-leather shoes. Suddenly he
was aware that he was feeling sorry
for himself. Here he was, without a
mistress or a wife—and in Los An-
geles, too. In a little while, he found
himself in the office of a friend who
practiced law.

“Suppose,” said Armour to the
mouthpiece, posing a problem of a
hypothetical friend, “a man knows

-his wife has murdered somebody and

he keeps his mouth shut and helps her
get away. What can happen to him?”

“He could go to prison as an acces-
sory after the fact.”

The lawyer quickly divined that
Armour’s hypothetical friend was Ar-
mour. He blabbed to the sheriff.

The sheriff got busy on the long-
distance telephone and Clara Phillips
was picked off the train at Tucson,
Arizona. When, next day, the train
bearing Clara pulled into the Santa Fe
terminal at Los Angeles, the joint
was mobbed. Between the time Ar-
mour had let the cat out of the bag in
conversaii.. with the lawyer and
Clara’s return to the City of the An-
gels, the newspapers had been full of
nothing else but what they were now
calling the hammer murder. Armour
was there at the railroad station,
wearing a new linen cap, his patent-
leather shoes highly shined, and the
pants of his Palm Beach suit freshly
creased. The flatfoot who was hold-
ing Clara, for transfer to the county
jail, permitted the hammy husband to

(continued on next page)
47

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FROM AUTHENTIC POLICE RECORDS

tectives who covered the various
haunts of the mob were at a certain
disadvantage since all they had was a
word picture of the wanted killer.

As each day passed my sorrow and
anguish turned to cold rage against
the man who had wrecked my life. I
felt that I could kill him with my
bare hands. He had brought so much
misery and heartache to others, yet
he walked the streets a free man.

I wanted desperately to help. Every
time I left Harry’s bedside I had to
bite my lips to keep from crying at
my helplessness.

Finally I couldn’t stand it any
longer. I felt certain I could do some-
thing. After all I saw the killer. His
cruel features were engraved in my
memory. If I saw him again, no mat-
ter how fleeting the glimpse, I would
know him.

I WENT to the District Attorney’s
office and told Detective Harris of
my plan. He nodded soberly when L
was finished.

“How do you expect to start?”

“The police told me that these men
love to dance—that they visited taxi
dance halls all the time.” .

“Are you certain you'll recognize
him if you see him?”

“Positive,” I replied.

“What would happen if he recog-
nizes you, too?” Detective Harris
asked softly.

I was ready to face this. “I don’t
think he will. After all I was only
one in a crowd. He had no reason to
notice me, especially, but even if he
does, I’m ready to face it.”

The detective told me to wait a
minute and I took a seat on a long
bench in the ante-room. He held a
conference with a few other officials.
I waited anxiously until he returned.
I knew that even if they didn’t agree
with me I was going out to work on
the case. But I didn’t have to do any-
thing as foolhardy as that.

“Tt’?s okay,” he said.

My heart leapt with joy.

“You start work tonight. Better get
an evening gown because you're going
to be a taxi dancer at the Bluebell
Ballroom.”

He explained the mission in great
detail. The Bluebell was a tough
joint and it had a wide reputation as
a “fast” spot. Sooner or later every
person who frequents taxi dance halls
shows up there.

There were going to be two detec-
tives in the place at all times. I
wasn’t to know who they were lest
I direct too much attention their way
and spoil the whole plan. I wasn’t
to worry about that, though. I was
told to feel perfectly secure.

No set signal was arranged for
when I spotted the leader of the
killers. The situation was to take care
of itself. If I possibly could, I was to
manoeuver him outside the dance hall
since on the crowded floor there was
no telling what might happen. The
police had to promise the proprietor
of the place this in order to secure his
cooperation.

I got to work at eight o'clock that
night when the place opened for busi-
ness. I never knew such places ex-
isted. There were soft lights and hot
music. The air had a stifling quality.

I stood in a line of eighteen girls.
All were dressed to a pattern; plenty
of rouge, mascara and evening gowns
that concealed nothing. My evening
gown looked mid-Victorian alongside
the others and after the first fifteen
minutes I went into the powder room

where the attendant, a __nimble-
fingered Irish woman, cut down the
bodice to a point where I was on an
equal footing withthe others. z
rouged my lips heavily, put mascara
on my eyelashes—it was the first time
I ever used it—and went back to
work.

As the men entered we made in-
sinuating remarks, wheedled for their
favors. All night long men held me
in a suffocating grasp. Greasy hands
pawed my body. It seemed that the
men—those who danced with me, at
least, and I know it was no different
with any of the others—came into the
place for everything except dancing.
Early in the evening I lost count of
all the propositions.

Although the clock said it was 3
a.m. when I quit, I had lost all count
of time. Only my burning desire to
make the killer pay for my misery
kept me going.

Night after night went by in the
same endless pattern. I was begin-
ning to feel that I had undertaken a

“Haven’t I seen you before?” he
asked easily. ;
“Oh no, you couldn’t have,” I said

‘quickly. “I just started working here.”

“Okay, Baby,” he said. He put his
arm about my waist, walked me to
the ticket booth and bought three
dollars worth of tickets. This was
to show me that he was a good
spender.

We started dancing and while I
tried to keep up a running line of
gay conversation, my mind worked
furiously. I had to get him off the
floor in some way.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Frank Rossi,” he said.

The way he said it, I knew he was
lying. Then I got an unexpected break.
He, himself, suggested we leave and
go to his place.

“Tt’s too hot in here,” he complained.

I agreed eagerly. I grabbed my
wrap, took his arm and we left. As
we went down the stairs I saw two
burly figures detach themselves from
the crowd of dancers and come after

Funeral pro¢ession of Patrolman Sherry whose bravery cost him his life.

hopeless task. After all, what guar-
antee did I have that the killer would
show up here? What if he had fled
to another state? What if he remained
in hiding for a year? A dozen times
I was about ready to quit and then I
thought of Harry tossing in agony on
his hospital bed and I clenched my
fists. “I must keep on...I must...
I must!” I kept repeating to myself.

The faces of men became a blur. I
was beginning to doubt now whether
I’d even recognize the killer.

It was then that it happened. Fight
days after I started work a man en-
tered the dance hall. I didn’t see him
at first and luckily he was inspecting
some of the other girls on the line
because when I did get a look at his
face my jaw dropped and I’m sure
surprise was written all over me.
Quickly I got myself: under control.
Here was the killer himself!

I took the bull by the horns. I lit-
erally threw myself into his arms.

“You'll have a good time with me,
Honey,” I said, trying to make my
voice as sweet as possible.

He held me off at arms length. His
thin cold lips were parted in what
was meant to be a smile, while his
beady eyes travelled up and down
my body.

us and my heart sang with joy. It
was the end of the trail—or so I
thought.

Before I knew it he had seated me
in his car, was behind the wheel and
had skillfully piloted the car into a
stream of traffic. I looked back. The
detectives were piling into their own
machine and were coming out after
us. I breathed easier after that.

We were coming down Broadway
now, when suddenly our car swerved,
took a corner on two_ wheels,
turned down Amsterdam Avenue and
then doubled north on Central Park
West.

“What’s the idea of this, Frank?”
I asked in alarm.

“There was a car following us.” He
laughed. “But they won’t get far. I’ve
given them the shake.”

I looked back. There was nobody
behind us. Icy terror gripped me. I
was alone with the man who had cold-
bloodedly killed a police officer and
ruined my life. “Now, what?” I kept
on asking myself.

The man, who called himself Frank
Rossi, turned south again and drove
carefully to Canal Street, then west
through the Holland Tunnel.

“Where are we going?” I asked

45

when we came out on the New Jersey
side.

He must have noticed a trace of
alarm in my voice.

“Take it easy, Baby,” he said, put-
ting his arm about my shoulders and
drawing me close. “We’re going up
to my place.”

“I didn’t know you lived so far
away.”

“Why, does it matter?”

“No, no,” I said quickly.

It was after 1 a.m. when we pulled
up in front of a dark boarding house
on Midland Avenue in Garfield, New
Jersey. I looked up and down the
street, hoping against hope that I
would see a police officer. It was de-
serted.

We went into the dark hallway and,
using his key, the killer unlocked the
door of his flat. I walkedin. It wasa
cheap bedroom containing a bed, a

dresser, a badly frayed rug and a,

chair.

“You'll be nice and comfortable
here, Baby,” he said, flinging his hat
on the bed.

He came over and took me in his
arms, pressed his lips against mine.
I thought I was going to be sick. His
hands, as they moved along my body,
burned like molten lead. As he
squeezed me to him I felt something
hard pressing against my breast. It
was a revolver he carried in a shoul-
der holster.

I was trapped. I couldn’t go now.
I’d never get out alive. I tried to tell
myself that it was worth paying any
price to bring this vicious murderer
to justice.

My mind kept repeating it over and
over again as I resigned myself to
my fate. As he clutched me to him
in a second clumsy embrace I pushed
him away.

I said: “It’s very warm in here.”

He laughed and showed a set of
discolored teeth. He took off his jacket
and vest and draped them over the
chair. He unhooked the holster, put
it under the jacket.

“That’s for protection,” he grinned.

He was unbuttoning his shirt. I
edged over toward the chair, pretend-
ing that I was having some difficulty
in unhooking my gown. As it slipped
to the floor, I stepped out of it and
with a sudden movement I reached
out for the gun. I didn’t know he was
watching.

He moved with the speed of a cat.
His fist punched out and caught me
on the side of the jaw. I fell up against
the dresser. The gun fell out of my
hand. Quickly he snatched it up. His
eyes were pin-points of hate. With
his left hand he gripped me about the

us the answer to our questions.”

Inquiries by Sterling and the State
Troopers at the home of Charles
Swift revealed that Marie had not
been home the night before.

“Where do you think she could have
gone?” Sterling asked of the girl’s
mother.

“T thought she might have remained
with a friend,” the worried mother
explained. “You see, she was going

46

AMAZING DETECTIVE CASES

throat, started choking slowly.

“I don’t know what your game is,
sister,” he said grimly, “but you bet-
ter spill it now.”

“T will,” I sobbed. “I will, I will.”

“Okay, get talking fast.” He relaxed
his grip on my throat. I sat down in
the chair.

“Okay. I’m waiting.”

It was at this moment that the
building shook as though there had
been an earthquake.

It’s really hard for me to say what
happened after that. I know I broke
down and was incoherent. Gradually
on the trip back to New York City
I learned what happened. Men had
smashed down the door. They were
detectives. I thought that when the
killer had shaken them off, he was in
the clear. I learned how wrong I was.

The police had very carefully noted
down his license plate number and,
checking with the New Jersey Motor
Vehicle Bureau, got the name -and
address of the man who owned the
car. At the same time an alarm was
issued to the Jersey authorities to be
on the lookout for a car bearing those
license plates.

The detectives who made the arrest
were Lieutenant Sullivan and Detec-
tives George Gung, Eugene Boyle, Di-
Marisco, Hogan, Kiechlan and Golen-
boski.

Too many of us pointed the finger
of guilt at the killer for him to deny
his part in the crime. His real name,
he said, was Fred Corbellini and his
fingerprints proved that this time he
was telling the truth. He was taken
to the scene of the crime and he re-
enacted the ‘killing.

At one point, the proprietor stated
that the killer forced him to go to
the cash register at this particular
time. Corbellini corrected him, say-
ing that he made him do that a little
later.

After he had signed a full confes-
sion, Prosecutor O’Brien asked him for
the names of the women who had been
used as decoys.

He retorted: “What do you think—
I want to see women go to the chair?”

In his confession he revealed that
he. had led Gugliemetti and Cozzi
into more than a dozen armed hold-
ups on crap games.

On the night of the murder they
had been given a tip that a boarding
house was ripe for a “rolling”. Pick-
ing up the two girl friends to act as
the-lures they went to the house. It
happened that it was vacant. Disap-
pointed, they walked along the street

oking for a likely place. Pete, he
claimed, picked The Cave.

After his escape he dropped the

murder gun into a refuse can on the
subway platform and got into the
train with the girls. He got off at
102nd Street and the girls continued
the ride.

The trial began on December 9th
in the Court of General Sessions be-
fore Judge John Freschi and it lasted
for fourteen days. Then the jury re-
turned with its verdict. Cozzi and
Corbellini were found guilty of mur-
der in the first degree and Judge
Freschi sentenced them to die in the
electric chair. The Court of Appeals
upheld the verdict and on April 8th,
Franklin Delano Roosevelt—he was
then Governor of New York—heard
cath salaiee for clemency and refused
o act.

T° RURSDAY night is execution
night in Sing Sing Prison. They all
start at precisely 11 Pp. m. and on
Thursday, April 14th, 1932, only two
men were scheduled to go. They were
Corbellini and Cozzi.

I was at home alone that night lis-
tening to the radio. I knew that when
the announcer’s voice gave the time
that the first of them would start his
walk to eternity.

I knew that they would strap him
swiftly in the chair and send a cur-
rent of electricity through his body,
and that. within three minutes he
would be dead; that a doctor would
pronounce him so and that he would
be lifted to a wheeled stretcher and
taken into an adjoining room where
a doctor would remove his brain for
study.

I knew that the second man would
follow him one minute later and oc-
cupy the slab next to his dead
partner.

It was then that I felt a first twinge
of pity, but I erased it from my
mind. These men deserved to die.
They had committed the worst crime
and they were paying for it. They
deserved their fate. In the final an-
alysis it was their own murderous
act that visited the punishment upon
them.

Two years later Harry contracted
tuberculosis and went to Arizona.
His strong body had wasted away
to a shell of its former self .
his face was drawn, and all the laugh-
ter had gone out of his eyes.

After years of pain and misery,
God in his mercy decided that he had
suffered enough, and three weeks
ago, on the evening of April 18, 1941,
Harry fell asleep ... and he suffered
no more.

As for me... I’m trying the best
I know how to pick up the threads
of my broken life.

HORROR FOR THE BRIDE-TO-BE

(Continued from page 13)

a married this coming Saturday.
thought maybe she was making
sline for her wedding ... and.
well, what’s happened? "‘Where- is my
girl? Is she all right?”

With growing alarm, Mrs. Swift

‘identified the . handbag found at the

scene as that of her daughter.

One look at the body of the young
woman, now lying on‘a‘slab in the
Crisfield morgue, and Charles Swift,

her father, abandoned any hope he
may have had that this victim of some
mysterious violence was not his
daughter.

“It’s her all right,” he gasped, bow-
ing his head in grief. “I just can’t

—we how this happened, or

wh

Bestern Shore Marylanders are a
clannish lot, violent when aroused.
The trouble of one is the trouble

of all, and the
who sins against
hangs by a Vv:
indeed. ;

Breakfast time
Crisfield before :
demise of pretty,
had spread from
psychological rul
original reports-
ton Taylor’s te
Deputy Sheriff
even more exagg

By noon word
Marie Swift had
a sadistic fienc
in her skull, att
her.

Crisfield’s Mai:
ly inactive. Litt
tered here and '
in front of buil
and earnestly
group, strangely
before the build
office of State's
Maddrix. Madd:
field from Princ
seat, 33 miles t
took charge of
the strange de
Crisfield’s popul

Mrs. Swift h:
Clifton Taylor's
Sheriff Sterling
expected to b
Ward, the loca
had been going
quite some tin
had announcec
being wed.

The heartbr:
tally unable to
of blonde hal:
worth had fou:
of the dead gi!

“Why, Mari
sobbed Mrs. S
gay and light!
can’t imagine
such a thing t
all understana

At mid-mor
tion of the St:
vestigation suc
two different <
worth set out
Ward, while
proceeded to
last hours of }

Buckworth
cating Ward.
collapsed up«
terious death

generally bel

to marry. H

Beads of pers

brow. He acc

the State's

scarcely a

gathered bef

him, as he
beside Buckw

worry and d:

TERLING
himself

with his end
was able to
all right fro:
home at 7:30
24, 1941, but
her after 9:°
was cloaked

Girls, with
garment fac
had seemed
She was har
ative as usu:
announced |
a communit


[c aces \\ aul

—_—

Memo from...

WATT ESPY
CAPITAL PUNISHMENT RESEARCH PROJECT

P.O. Drawer 277, Headland, Alabama 36345
Phone: (205) 693-5225

6-21

noni:
gecéived a phone call todey wanting to
know if Alfred Corbellini and Alfred
Gozzi were executed in New York (they
were on July 15, 1932), The lady sta ted
thet they had killed a New York Policeman
named Bernard sherry. L have nothing on
the case, Do you? if so, would appreciate
\ECEIWE |
i mine
| ae
| JUN2 71988
| I |
|

>: AM gradually getting through the
magazines and another envelope will get
off to you later this week or first of