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“Girl crazy,” the detectives murmured,
They finally prodded him into revealing
the identity of the girl who gave him
the second revolver. She was taken into
custody as a material witness.
The girl declared she had found the
revolver in her home and believing her
uncle no longer wanted it, she gave it
to Barth. But the detectives were un-
able to establish that she had any knowl-
edge of Barth’s holdups or the Friedman
murder.
When Barth was placed on trial: for
murder several weeks after his arrest, he
attempted to plead non vult—he admitted
the murder charge and wanted to throw
himself upon. the mercy of the court.
The plea was denied.
Barth’s murder confession was placed
before the jury and when Kurt took the
witness stand, he dramatically reenacted
his struggle with Friedman in an at+
tempt to show that the shooting was
accidental.
Counsel assigned by the court to his
defense, attempted unsuccessfully to
bring out the youth’s earlier history to
show that it was his war-time associa-
tion with deadly. weapons that might
have been responsible for his maraud-
ings.
Barth, the lawyers tried to show, was
born in Germany two years before the
outbreak of the World War. Soon after
the big conflict started, Barth’s father,
now a respectable United States citizen,
entered the German army, serving
eeenenont the four and a half years of
strife.
“pl Meet: Y ou Ins Hell?
[Continued from page 24]
hospital where life was comparatively
easy.
And I took Palmer’s statements with
a grain of salt, knowing that every con-
vict has a grievance, real or fancied, an
that it is the almost universal custom
of prisoners to attempt to get out of the
duties assigned to them, even if it is nec-
essary to injure themselves to do it. With
this in mind it seems logical to believe
that much of Palmer’s railing was some-
what distorted by the fact that he saw
prison life through the eyes of a convict
instead of through the eyes of an of-
ficial who was faced with the necessity
of keeping order among hundreds of des-
perate and ruthless criminals.
Getting off the subject of prison life,
Joe Palmer chatted about crimes in
which he has participated. And only at
the murder of the Huntsville guard did
he exhibit the slightest trace of remorse.
“I hate to have the blood of any man
on my hands,” he said. “None of us
likes to kill,”
In his youth, he confided, he wanted
to become a newspaperman, but the fam-
ily resources would not permit his go-
ing to a school of journalism. News-
paper work, he said, always appealed to
him. It offered variety, action, adven-
ture. He craved those things even be-
fore he chose the path of lawlessness.
Tells Of Crimes
I AM convinced that Joe Palmer is not
a boaster, in the strict sense of that
word. True, he speaks in prideful ac-
cents of some escapades, but the story
Returned to civilian life, the elder
Barth moved his impoverished family
to East Prussia, to within the shadow
of what had once been a vast munitions
lant. The father gave his young son
is army pistol as a toy, having no
money to buy the usual assortment of
playthings. The gun fascinated the
youngster and he prized it highly. Into
his adolescence he still played with the
grim toy.
The elder Barth came to the United
States in 1924, sending for his family
a year later.
Young Barth, finding his treasured
army pistol gone, decided to get another
gun from a mail order house.
Kurt liked girls. He needed automo-
biles to take them riding. He needed
money to entertain them, What he made
as a hospital orderly wasn’t enough.
After five days of trial, Barth was con-
victed of murder in the first degree and
‘sentenced to die in the electric chair.
An appeal automatically stayed execution
of the sentence, set for July, until Oc-
tober. '
“I wonder,” a detective mused after
the trial. “Barth held up only Jewish
storekeepers. I asked him if he was a
Nazi but he denied it.”
And the youth, confined in the death
house of state’s prison at Trenton, faces
the sizzling seat from which, once the
current is turned on, there is no release
in life. Only a reversal of his sentence
can save him.
ing ue
he told me in that jail cell in Paducah
came from his heart. He talked frankly
about his life. He was willing to talk
because I think he realized that he had
reached the end of the road, that only a
miracle could save him from the electric
chair.
Asked about his family, he refused to
give his father’s name.
“There are a good many Palmers in
Texas,” he said. “I wouldn't want to say
anything to hurt any of them, my father
least of all.”
Neither would he talk about his first
clash with the law. He must have been
quite young, however, when he got into
trouble the first time.
“T had just finished my first year. in
college,” he told me. “T won't tell you
which college, because I have a nephew
going there now. But, anyway, I needed
money to finish my education and I just
stumbled. I suppose I made a mistake,
but after you do that once it’s hard to go
back straight. The money came so easy.
One thing led to another, and each time
it was worse. And here I am, with no-
body to blame, particularly, but myself.”
At the time of his capture, Palmer was
heading south after a trip to Chicago,
he said. He had traveled some 3,000
miles with little sleep and was exhausted
when he jumped from a freight in the
Paducah railroad yards, crept into the
woods off Old Mayfield road, and went
to sleep under a tree.
He declined to discuss the July 22 es-
cape because, he said, “Ray’s still loose,
you know, and I don’t want to talk about
that. You understand, don’t you?”
56 THANK You For MENTIONING STARTLING DerectivE ADVENTURES
But he o}
terror of t!
Ray Hamil
Hilton By
and Bonn!
leaving a ‘
hind them.
“Ray a
Palmer to
just got h
guns for u
Clyde Bat
about it @
so we COU:
guns.
“Ray an:
weather to
foggy mo
looked lik:
days afte:
The conv:
but we c<
because ©
till the {«
to be cal
to two &\
Bosemar
“Ray ¢
guards, ¢
and cov
man star
Crowson
-«
-«
in
et
ed
is of H
: ¥
ot
en, !
ver,
A a
ed
it
1us
SLAYER—BUT HE FOUND A STRANGE
“And call an ambulance!” Clark ordered. With a swift
motion he tore Friedman’s shirt open. The haberdasher
was breathing with difficulty.
“Who did it?” Clark demanded, huskily, bending over
the victim. Friedman had been his friend for years.
“Gun... help... 2” Blood was
welling up in Friedman’s mouth.
COMPANION IN THE DEATH HOUSE!
hole where the bullet’ had plowed through a scant half-
inch above the heart. I turned the man over. There was no
corresponding hole in the back of the body. The bullet
was still lodged inside.
Good! Riflings on a chunk of lead or steel had scores
of times sealed the doom of a killer.
Perhaps there would be a clue here.
“Young man... car—sedan .. .” By Lieut, JOSEPH COCOZZA Half an hour later Friedman's body was
His last word trailed off into. si-
lence. The bystanders were hushed.
lriedman’s hand fell away from the
red smear on his chest, his body re-
lavi Pg « “le - } ae ad TA
laxing. atrolman Clark heavec erect,
“He’s dead,” he said slowly. He
turned to the drug clerk, who was
pushing his way forward. “You can take the salts back,
Corney. They can’t do any good now.”
It was hardly five minutes later that I was called. [ leaped
into my car, parked outside my home in Newark, and sped
io Bloomfield. A gaping, morbid group hung about the
haberdashery doorway, whispering. I shouldered my way
through. Chief of Police Charles F. Jensen, Detective Lieu-
tenant John Whalen, and Detectives Fred England, Fred
less and Tom Spatcher, all of Bloomfield, were already
there. So was Dr. Edward Gullard, of Mountainside Hos-
ital, Montclair. The doctor was bending over an inert form,
hypodermic syringe in his right hand. Adrenalin was
crn injected into the man’s heart. But Friedman was
ead and nothing could bring him) back. '
inspected the body briefly. There was an ugly black
Prosecutor’s Office
eyes hard. with BERT M. FLIEGMAN
on its way to the morgue in Orange for
Essex County, New Jersey, an autopsy.
Chief Jensen and his capable detec-
tive detail had not been idle prior to
my arrival, They had located three
young men who had seen a car pull
away from the curb in front of the store
just as Friedman came staggering out.
I had already learned from Patrolman Clark the haberdasher’s
dying words, “Car—sedan. A youth with an auto-
mobile, apparently, had committed the murder.
The young men were brought before me. They were
James McGrath of Bloomfield, and Justin Cocke and Edward
Merkle of nearby Glen Ridge. All had been in Gorney’s
drug store having ice cream. All three had run out of the
store at the sound of the shot. They had been in time only
to see a dark Plymouth sedan pull away from the curb and
churn madly down Broad Street.
“Did you get a look at the license 2” I asked eagerly
My hopes of quickly breaking the case were dashed hy
their answer. They had not been able to see the plates. The
night was dark, and _ street lights gave scant illumination,
But the reason they could not. make out the license plate
13
v
“Nelson is .
officials said,
him.” That
ny
Martin Dur-
ent Edward
Chicago, had
equally elu- ,
had tracked
caped death
rot 35 years
2, 1934, there
re likely fate
‘nthe life of
out by offi-
Nelson, the
ced the pos-
1 murder in
.nd sentence
‘ut the rattle
iue, Chicago,
Face that a
iding to his
any time,
tarried and
| a choice of
'e for them,
to kill—and,
ue likelihood
leath as one
nals,
arks his car
-oeder asked
ited a “7B”
The “R”
issued to a
A Passaic
»“P” plate,
Lo himself.
ig what it
ian he an-
?, the same
th alighted,
d away.
le saw the
ate!
police head-
‘es Shackle-
m. After a
» proceeded
y avenue.
‘selves that
the outside
of possible
iarry, while
door and
{ was in bed
5 as Seen abies cai
wis
=
a a
eo ee
ta Bt aR
ee ed
turned into an alleyway alongside the
house, and made for the backyard. There
he saw Marchione on guard. The youth
circled the house as Marchione drew his
revolver and fired a shot into the air.
Unheeding, the youthful fugitive fled
toward the street. He ran pell mell into
the arms of Patrolman Schroeder who
quickly overpowered him,
“Tf I had a gun, I’d blow out either
your brains or mine,” the prisoner
gasped.
e was taken to Clifton police head-
quarters.
“Hand over the keys to that car so
we can bring it in,” he was commanded.
He insisted he had no keys, but after
some persuasion revealed that he had
buried the keys in a pile of ashes half-
way between the car and his home.
When the car was brought to police
tanegnactess, the license number was
note
P5930!
It was the black sedan, the killer’s car.
Essex County, Bloomfield and Newark
authorities were notified immediately.
The prisoner said he was Kurt Barth,
22, alias Kem Frazer. He had a police
record for automobile thefts.
Subjected to a severe grilling, he was
adamant. Certainly he knew nothing
about the Friedman murder. ho was
Friedman, anyway? He had never heard
of him. :
Five hours later, though, he changed
his tune. To Lieutenant Coccozza and
Detective Cappodanno he made his con-
fession. .
Yeah, he had done the Friedman job.
“But I’m sorry,” he addea. “I didn’t
mean to shoot him.”
He was nonchalant as he dictated
his confession, implicating two brothers
as participants in some of the many
holdups. But, he emphasized, he was
alone on the Friedman killing. The
brothers had refused to go along on that
job. The brothers were arrested a few
hours later in their father’s saloon. As
this is written they await trial on rob-
bery charges.
A search of Barth’s room uncovered
two revolvers. One was a 38 caliber
gun and this, Barth said, was used in
the Friedman murder.
He had purchased it, he said, from a
mail order house. He added he had had
the weapon sent to his married sister’s
home but she did not know what was
in the package when it arrived. He filed
the number off the revolver because he
had read this was the usual practice of
big-time racketeers and gunmen, he said.
“Well, what about this other gun?”
he was asked.
“Oh, a girl friend gave me that.”
“Girl Crazy” Killer
Ret HIS possession was found a small
book containing the names, addresses
and telephone numbers of more than a
hundred girls.
CLINGING to swaying cables or perched on narrow
|-beams at breath-taking heights, workers on the steel
gangs face death daily.
A thrill-packed story gives you an
intimate closeup of the iron-nerved men who flaunt disaster
to spin their towering webs of steel across the sky.
NOVEMBER ISSUE
NOW ON
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Other
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IS AERIAL WARFARE
~ DOOMED?
Uncle Sam's Coast Guard—
Fighting Heroes of the Seas
What Happens to New Gold?
At All Newsstands—or direct from
ERN MECHANIX PUBLISHING CO.
ished in, the
‘or his shoes .
and plunged
529 S. 7th St., Minneapolis, Minn.
seize him as
1 slipped out
n the stair-
the officer's :
auckles, a
1 pursuit, 3
rh the front
’ feet away,
From the muzzle of this gun 8 d
the slug which took the Bloom eld
merchant’s life.
a8 THANK You For MENTIONING STARTLING Dersctive ADVENTURES 55
ee
wry
BARTH, Kurt, white, elec. NJSP (Essex) March 22, 1935
POLICE TRAPPED JERSEY’S PHANTOM
INDING TENDRILS of mist snaked through that
early spring evening of April 6, 1934, like old ghosts
HINTS seeking a rendezvous. They whirled and twisted in
The paper wad- thick grey shapes, ugly phantoms that blotted out all street
ding, shown illumination. Car horns honked intermittently, their muffled
above with gun ' tones combining in an eerie symphony with the whine of tires
and brass a ee ae * . :
| tachles, asthe on wet pavement. It was a dismal night, and residents of \
clue that caught Bloomfield, New Jersey, a community on the outskirts of ‘
| a killer. Newark, were preparing to spend the evenirig at home. i
The big clock in the town square had just boomed seven, |
when close on the heels of the hollow tolling came another
sound—short and deadly. It was the flat bark of a revolver.
A dark figure sped from a haberdashery store at 417-A
Broad Street and was swallowed up by the fog as he leaped
toward the curb.
A second figure appeared almost instantly in the store’s |
doorway, a staggering shape with one hand clutched about 7
a red, gaping wound just above the heart. It was Julius
Friedman, the proprietor.
The harsh grinding of gears was followed by the quick
hum of racing rubber. <A brief silence ended that scene 4
PHANTOM of violence as Friedman’s knees commenced to buckle. Then
Left: Handsome, stores in the vicinity emptied. Merchants and passers: by hur-
ere Oe toa ried to the scene. One of them was a uniformed man, Patrol-
por -and death man Robert Clark.
over northern “Help—help me,” the haberdasher gasped, and slumped i
New Jersey. forward against the officer.
Clark lifted the dying man in his arms, shouldered and
shouted his way through the gathering crowd to the little
store. He laid his burden on the floor and yelled to Joseph
Gorney, a drug clerk next door, to fetch smelling salts.
94
returned to headquarters, excitedly
displaying a huge gold ring which
bore the engraved lettering; ‘1866—
Susan—1934.” Dr. Hsu, hurriedly sum-
moned to the Gendarmerie, identified
the band as a ring presented to his
wife by her grandmother two years
before.
“She never wore it because it was
too large,” he said softly. “She always
carried it around in her handbag, and
would have had the jeweler make it
smaller some day.”
The trail of death had come to an
end.
And Susan Waddell’s ring, the piti-
ful little trinket she carried as a wist-
ful link to the homeland left behind
long years before, literally served as”
‘a vise of gold to bind the vicious coolie
who snuffed out her life on an October
night. It was something he could not
deny, it was dangled under his cring-
ing face and shifting eyes until, at
last, he screamed out his guilt. a
“yes... yes, I killed her! I was sit-
ting in my ricksha at Tah-singking
when the foreign woman approached
and hired me to take her to the Cen-
tral University where she was to meet
someone. At her order I stopped at a
fruit store and when she opened her
purse I saw that it was filled with
money.
FI ONT PAGE DETECTIVE
“I lecided to steal the money. After
awh le, coming toward the foot of the
Pei- thih hill, it was very dark and I
stop ed the ricksha. The foreign lady
aske 1 me what I was doing and I said
J w:s fixing my light.”
L' 1 paused for breath and his gaze
swe t over the assembled officers.
“¢ 9 on, pig!” Ling barked.
e@ricksha puller held out his huge,
ape like hands, with. long, tentacle-
like Gngers-hardened by years of haul-
ing the quaint’ little, carriages over
rou_h streets.
“ yeached out with these from be-
hin ,” he went on, as though his crime
ve »a deed well done, “and clutched
1e. throat. She made no sound and
str ggled only for an instant. When
she was still, I lifted her, ran quickly
io. n the side of the hill, across the
fie , and dumped the body in the
dit h. I waited to see if anyone was
co ing, picked up the handbag, and
ra until I got to a street light.
Then I saw that I had a lot of
m: iey, a ring anda watch, and...”
\ watch?” Ling interrupted. “What
di you do with it?”
Jiu licked his thin, cracked lips.
| sold it to a pawnbroker in Liuch-
What about the bag?”
in
where I lived.”
With his shocking confession a mat-
ter of record, Liu was locked in a cell -
at the Garrison Commander’s head-
quarters, and Ling went out to gather
up the last of his evidence. The watch
was retrieved from the pawnbroker’s,
and the bag, rotted and covered with
mouldy weeds, was found in the ditch
Liu described.** ©. "y
The trial which followed was formal’
and brief. ae ee : :
Liu was found guilty, and on May 7,
1937, the fiendish ricksha boy stum-
bled out of his cell, backed up in be-
wilderment against a stone wall, and
heard, only for a flashing second, the
whip-like crack of the firing squad © -
guns that blasted his bared chest. +
And Detective Ling Po-Chung, ‘.
whose incredible patience and clever
mind had completed the jig-saw pat- ay
tern, marked another case “Closed.”
But is the door closed on the past?
Can there be peace and oblivion for "
those who loved gentle Susan Wad-.
dell, who remembered the lilt of her
voice and the sunlight that danced in
her eyes. And will there not be many, ~
blind to the dark hours in the heart-.
of a Chinese youth, who will whisper,
a
eth
knowingly: “East is East, and West is ©
West.” Se
THE SECT ET OF THE HIDDEN CORPSE ee
, (Continued from page 61)
the body evidenced the fact that the
young mother had fought valiantly if
vainly to defend her life and honor.
Other tests were taken to determine
whether the criminal assault had been
consummated. When these had been
sent to the pathologist for City Hos-
pital, Doctor Harrison S. Martland, we
returned to the Brigham home to con-
tinue the investigation.
Pe specialists from New-
ark had been summoned to go over
the house, but, thanks to the finding
of the glove button, we had little hope
of results from them. The button in-
dicated that the fiendish assaulter had
committed his ghastly work with cov-
ered hands. It was also decided to
question little Virginia. She had slept
through the commotion caused by the
discovery of her mother’s body, and
her evidence as to the time of the
killing had reached us only by hear-
say.
The little girl’s father went into her
room and wakened her for us, although
it was then two-thirty in the morning.
She was a weary, sleepy-eyed little
girl when she came downstairs. Mr.
Brigham led her in by the hand.
“Come, Virginia,” he said gently,
“we're going into the den. These men
are friends of mine, and they want
to ask you some questions.”
“Tg it about Mommy?” she inquired
eagerly. “Has Mommy come home yet?
ints aaa ool
W iere is she? I want to see Mommy.”
Yharles Brigham turned his head
q: ickly away to hide the tears that
s} cang into his eyes. I felt a lump rise
ir my throat and cleared it hastily.
T .e stricken father rallied visibly and
s) \iled at his daughter.
“Mommy’s gone away, darling,” he
sid. “She’s had to take a long trip
21d won't be home for awhile- But I
v ant you to tell these men just what
h yppened this afternoon.”
Virginia’s disappointment over her
> other’s disappearance showed in her
f ce, but she bravely went ahead with
ber father’s instructions.
“Mommy and Billy and baby and I
: lL ate lunch at twelve in the kitchen,”
eye said, carefully. “Mommy was
‘leaning all morning, and I was play-
i ig house with Billy up in the play-
oom.
“After lunch Mommy put us all to
ed for our afternoon nap. She always
yakes me up at two o’clock, but this
ime when I woke up, mommy wasn’t
iome, and it was half past ‘three. I
ooked everywheres for her, all over
he house, but Mommy was gone.
“The baby began to cry and Billy
sot hungry, and I wanted Mommy so
nuch that I went to the phone and
cold the operator to get my daddy in
Jew York. She asked Daddy’s name,
ind where he worked, and I told her,
ind pretty soon I heard Daddy’s voice,
and he said everything would be all
right and that he was coming home 5
right away. That’s everything that ~
happened.”
“What time did the furnace man:
come?” Captain Godfrey inquired.
“Oh, I forgot that part,” said Vir-
ginia. “During the morning, Willy—
that’s the furnace man’s son—came and
washed some windows for Mommy.-
He went home just before lunch. When
I stopped sleeping, James, the furnace
man, was shoveling coal on the fire.
That’s what woke me up.”
“Did you.speak to him, Virginia?”
the captain asked. The little girl shook
her head. f
. “No, I didn’t,” she replied. “I saw.
him walk away around the side of the ©
house though.”
“Willy is Battle’s son,” said Brigham
’ in explanation. “He’s nineteen years
old and does chores around the house
and helps out generally. I remember
that he was to clean the windows this
morning.” ey
“we'd better bring him in,” said
Godfrey. ‘He may be able to shed. a
little light on this picture.” se
Cronin and Byrnes went to the Bat--
tles home and. brought young Willy
to headquarters. The handy man said
he had cleaned the second story win-.
dows of the Brigham house the morn-
ing before, and that he had returned -
to his own home at noon and had
stayed there throughout the day. His
mother, Carrie Battles, corroborated -
his statement, <
had come home
had spent the a
kitchen.
“I gave the
paint,” said the
We then inter
gave us a good
throughout the
furnace route w
actions were ea:
asking the pers:
at what time !
tend their furn
There, was, |
his time schedu
account for his
hours of two a
he had entered :
away from the }
two-thirty he |
three doors aw:
able to explain
take up the una
However, he |
convincingly th:
lasted until five
ing. In the hop
we checked th
prints alone, bi
good set of his
found on a win
plained them :
told us that he
there while wz
After the sex
preserve
aid. “What does
‘righam, “about
> twenty-three.
2 she was wear-
vediately,” said
at to all patrol-
in about thirty-
cs. His face was
ind worried.
3 a catch in his
to be bothering
umitted suicide.
c since her third
, and I’m frank-
e asked courte-
:s and Cronin.
solice car.”
as cruising the
cs. They visited
he missing wife
3. Without suc-
orried husband,
nought that she
nt to the Brig-
sant residential
ompanied them,
aces in the hope
SPECIAL DETAIL
Lieutenant .Timothy Cronin
believed that he knew the
killer’s identity and insisted
upon a repeated Investigation
of one man’s home. His perse-
verance played a major role
in the apprehension of New
Jersey’s fiendish sex slayer.
“A FRONT PAGE STORY
ABOUT NEW JERSEY
TU
1 RK mE RTT ese ome ocean mm rneet
ome sas = = see bore
== P=
A KILLER ENTERED HERE
The cellar entrance to the
Brigham home In Orange,
New Jersey, through which
the murder man made his en-
trance. Did Mrs. Brigham real-
ize that this man, who had
been known to her for years,
had come to kill her?
Est
maeebehs,
nae
eres ee
PR APRIL ME ta Nt ED
Sb i Raa TRH Mt Hx
Nici SS AK ei tea 4 iia
NT CLUE
gloves added
one of the
ses that. has
ted New Jer-
1s— for their
winced police
ing killer had
e fingerprints.
ainter’s card
vother enig-
in the welrd
e murdered
ine suspect ex-
by saying that
a the Brigham
coate of paint.
atement true?
n cloths soaked in
to the basement.
e met evil death,
voman. ‘fhe pink
jer neck, exposing
rclothes, stripped
. Rigor mortis had
nistakable bruises
FRONT PAGE
and abrasions, and other, unmentionable details told a
horror story of savage lust. Little doubt remained but
that Mrs. Brigham’s beauty had led her to tragic dishonor
ang death. With averted eyes, the officers found a sheet
d laid it gently over the mortal remains. They then
turned to the ground floor, where Lieutenant Cronin
put in telephone calls for police headquarters and the
T THE TIME of this killing, I was ranked as a lieu-
tenant attached to the homicide squad of the Essex
County prosecutor’s office. I was called from my home
‘at ten-thirty that evening by my immediate superior,
+) Captain Walter Godfrey. When I reached the Brigham
‘residence, Assistant Medical Examiner Brien was in the
When persistent detectives searched one sus-
pect’s home a second time they uncovered
this jewelry store envelope. They hurried to
the Sheppard repair shop and found the
evidence that sent a killer to the chair.
“She’s been dead anywhere from | eight to twelve
hours,” he informed us. “On the face of it, I have no
hesitation in saying that she was criminally assaulted.
Death, I believe we will find, was caused by strangulation.
There are revealing bruises on her throat.” °
The mortuary wagon was sent for, and the body was
taken to Kunze’s morgue in East Orange. It was ar-
ranged that Doctor George L. Warren should perform an
immediate autopsy. -
A thorough examination of the Brigham cellar pro-
duced several possible clues to the murderer. In the pre-
serve chamber, close to the spot where the body was
found, Lieutenant Cronin picked up a small button of
the sort used to fasten men’s gloves.
The washroom yielded a length of clothes line cord
on which were found several brown hairs. This, we be-
lieved, was the instrument used to choke the life from the
pretty young woman. I picked up two brown bone hair-
pins near the foot of the staircase. Another was found
lying on the floor, halfway between the stairs and the
preserve closet.
Our deductions from these clues’ and their locations
DETECTIV) = 61
were that Mrs Brigham had been knocked down as she.
stood at the fi ot of the stairs—that she was. then car-
ried to the clo et, strangled and brutally ravished.
From Patro man Mason’s inquiries, we knew that a
strange man hid visited the house about noon. We now
intensified our investigation to learn details of the caller
and, if possib] , to find some lead to his identity.
A Mrs. Was iburn, who lived next door to the Brig-
ham’s, was th: only person we could locate who had ac-
tually seen hir .. He was, she said, tall and slender, and he
wore a derby hat. He had entered the house about one
o'clock and hz | d»parted some twenty minutes later.
Here was «ur logical suspect, but how were we to
put our hands: upon him? It was a soul-trying business.
In an effort tc pick up further information, Lieutenants
Byrnes and C onin went to the house of James Battles,
the Negro fur acc man, and questioned him. Battles said
that he called it ‘he house, on one of his routine trips, to
bank the furn ce, but had noticed nothing unusual in the:
cellar. This yw 1s it about three-thirty in the afternoon.
He had seen : ot! ing of the mysterious caller.
Little. seve -y-ar-old Virginia Brigham had set the
time of the t ag:dy between the hours of twelve and
three o’clock : 1 tl ¢ afternoon. During that time, the three
children wer a sleeping peacefully, unaware of the
horror that t ok place in the cellar beneath them. We
then adjourn: | t» the morgue to view the autopsy.
Doctor Wa ve) was to begin his work when we ar-~
rived, and G st: ’ Kunze, the mortician, was removing
the dress fro: : t! e victim. The back of the garment was
covered witt dist, which corroborated our suspicions
that Mrs. Br gh:m had been dragged across the base-
ment floor.’B: th yes had been blackened, and there were
other bruises upon the head.
“It looks :s taough the murderer pounded her into
submission b: fo: > he strangled her,” said Doctor Warren,
He glanced «rit cally at the broken body on the table.
Rigor mortis sti | held it in the position in which it had
been found. "’he knees were still flexed and widely sepa-
rated, and the reck retained that gruesome twist.
Warren’s -xpert hands, sheathed in rubber, quickly
confirmed B: ien’s opinion that death had been caused by
strangulatio::. Abrasions on (Continued on page 94}
“1 CUFFED HER;
Ng eget ne eed be hah J
ni A os pee ie
7” ay ee ,
tr
a &
(weer ey
Seti:
of finding some clue that
earlier search. The two li
of the missing woman with the hus’an
thorough search.
y
Brigham } ad missed in his
eutenants «nte ed the house.
At the door they were greeted by a: a
blonde of perhaps thirty years. Brigham
“This is Miss Fink, my stenograph :r,’
does everything but sew on my button ; ar
my wife.”
Miss Fink, too,
lined her smooth forehead.
“Virginia,
called the office an
to give it a
{ ractive young
i itroduced her.
’ he said. “She
1 is a friend of
looked worried. Nervous wrinkles
” she said, “the little girl here —she’s seven—
d said she hadn’t secn hr mother since
noon, before she had her nap. When she woke up at three-
thirty, Mrs. Brigham was
frightened and called the o
says, the furnace man came an
saw until Mr. Brigham an
The officers, under
began a systematic search
attic, they worked down, floor by floor,
nook and cranny of the residence.
“Well,” said Brigham,
ground floor without result, “we have
lready been through that. I don’t know
go, and I’ve a
where she could have gone.”
At this point Patrolman Ma
round of the neighbors’ houses.
said. “The only persons
furnace man and his son an
noon.”
Byrnes and Mason continued to comb the ground floor,
while Brigham and Cronin
went down to the cellar. With
the beam of his powerful elec-
tric flashlight as guide, Cronin
went through the coal bins and
an awkwardly placed lavatory.
He then covered every square
foot of space with his lamp, but
nowhere could he. find the
missing woman. The beam at
length fastened on a closet
door.
“What's in here?” he asked
after trying it and finding it
locked. i
“That’s the cold storage
room where we keep the pre-
serves,” said Brigham. “It
ought to be open.”
“It’s locked,” said Cronin.
Brigham ran back upstairs
and returned in a moment with
the key. He inserted it in the
lock and swung the door back.
In the shifting light of the
flashlamp, the closet appeared
to be empty. And then the ray
found the right hand corner.
It revealed the body of a
woman, naked below the shoul-
ders. She was lying on her back, vil
and spread wide, and her neck wis
in a manner that needed no medic | ¢
stoty. This was no case of suicid: !
Brigham gasped in horror. “My G
Peggy!”
His agonized cry ran through |‘ 1e
Mason heard it and came running 4 »w
When they reached the scene of thc m
fainted. He was carried upstairs « nd
n’t around. At {ve she became
ffice. Just aiter she awoke, she
d he’s the only person she
d I got here from New York.”
the guidance of Mr. Brigham, then
of the house. S!arting with the
examining every
when they hod reached the
oly the cellar to
son returned from his
“No one’s seen her,” he
the neighbors have seen are the
da white man who called at
e
wy
REQ
her knees flexed
otesquely twisted
aminer to tell the
d!” he cried. “It’s
,ouse. Byrnes and
stairs to the cellar.
rder, Brigham had
stretched out on a
URESCO| fe
wee
mS
— er wae ; 3
: . ee wey + oe = -
ei sai it ae: ig OE toe
r - - Soa ee apa ae gh cet
IMPORTANT CLUE
This pair of gloves added
mystery, to one of the
strangest cases that. has —
ever confronted New Jer-
sey authorities — for their —*
discovery convinced police 2
that the cunning killer had
left no tell-tale fingerprints, ~~
Left: A painter's card §
provided another enige «
matic link In the welrd
case of the murdered».
housewife. One suspect ex- m
plained this by saying that —
he had given the Brigham ~
kitchen two coats of paint. —
Was this statement true? ye
couch, where Miss Fink revived him with cloths soaked in
cold water. :
Meanwhile the officers had returned to the basement. |
It was evident to them, that before she met evil death,
Mrs. Brigham had been a beautiful woman. The pink
house dress had been pulled up around her neck, exposing
well-formed breasts. A girdle and underclothes, stripped
from the body, lay in a heap to one side. Rigor mortis: had
already made the corpse rigid. — Ze
The position of the body, certain unmistakable bruises
a Pee 3
v
Poe
and abrasion:
horror story
that Mrs. Bri;
and death. W
and laid it g:
returned to t
put in telep!
medical exan
T THE T
tenant a
County pros:
at ten-thirt;
Captain Wa!
residence, A
act of study!
prt ge Sin
OPEN
4
eee |
< en
Wh:
pect
this
the
evic
“She’s b
hours,” he
hesitation }
Death, I be!
There are)
The mor!
taken to K
ranged thai
immediate
A thorou
duced seve)
serve char
found, Lie
the sort us:
The was
on which v
lieved, was
pretty you:
pins near t
lying on tl
preserve ©
Our ded
gray stone build-
Jersey State Re-
n stood etched in
at 2 o’clock that
g. On the second
the edge of the
loore, the super-
to sleep because
. From the Rah-
> the hum of an
to came through
the drone of the
7 swamps.
air, bringing Dr.
He sprang to
nd on the moonlit
dragging a third
of a black tour-
itendent reached
asked for Linden
ore was describ-
‘er the macabre
ng.
3 a woman in
” he said softly.
of the men say,
f the girl!’ You’d
ere in a hurry.
fellow into the
... They’re get-
ir... . They’re
» street William
GEORGE
Lawson, auditor for an aircraft com-
pany, was dressing hastily. His wife
stood at their bedroom window, with
trembling hands holding to her eyes
a pair of opera glasses trained on the
fleeing car. The Lawsons, too, had been
aroused by the shots.
Lawson and Dr. Moore reached the
street just as Motorcycle Patrolman
Herbert Orton arrived. There a man
lay face down with mud streaks on his
blue sports jacket and gray flannels.
He was hatless. Orton gently turned
him over. Blood drenched his shirt-
front.
Dr. Moore knelt beside the body and
made a brief examination. . “He’s dead,”
‘pronounced the doctor. “Looks like
that bullet pierced his heart. He was
hit only once.”
Both he and Lawson were positive
there had been two shots. What, then,
of the second bullet? Shuddering, the
reformatory superintendent told the
motorcycle officer what he had heard
about the girl. Was she, too, dead?
Her body was nowhere around.
Meanwhile two miles farther down
the road, another policeman, summoned
from his post by Linden headquarters,
stood with his service revolver drawn,
beside his motorcycle in the center of
the highway to block the oncoming
black touring car. The machine’s head-
lights appeared in the distance and
rapidly grew larger; its motor roared
at top speed.
The policeman was clearly outlined
in the glare of the headlamps, but the
driver neither slackened nor swerved
the auto. It roared straight at the
officer, who. leaped for his life. The
car’s left fender sent the motorcycle
flying into the ditch. Cursing, the po-
liceman emptied his gun at the vanish-
ing machine, but his shots went wide
of their mark.
By this time the alarm for the mur-
der car had been spread by telephone
throughout Union and Middlesex Coun-
ties. All major roads and intersections
were guarded and every available pa-
trolman in the area was placed on the
alert.
Back on the turnpike in Linden, on
the outskirts of Rahway, Police Chief
Raymond Carmody and Inspector John
A. Galatian, chief of Union County
detectives, had arrived with several
men.
Carmody and Galatian examined the
victim’s body and clothing for clues to
his identity. He wore no rings;and his
pockets contained neither a wallet, bills
nor change.
“Looks like a gang killing to me,”
observed Chief Carmody. He gazed
northeast, where far away a dull glow
HORROR
Arthur Kupfer once told a friend
that an employe he'd discharged
bore a grudge for losing the job.
Inspector John Galatian held on
to two sets of fingerprints un-
til they trapped the murderers.
“WE'VE GOT TO GET RID OF THE GIRL!”
A WITNESS HEARD ONE KILLER SNARL
hung in the sky, marking the teeming
boroughs of New York City. “Probably
some of those East Side toughs from
Manhattan. They think they can get
away with murder out here in Jersey.”
However, this initial theory was dis-
credited when all the labels on the
victim’s clothing were found intact.
Gang slayers seeking to prevent the
identification of a corpse, the officers
well knew, would not have left such
telltale marks. On the inside of the
dead man’s jacket was the label of an
exclusive men’s shop in Perth Am-
boy, N. J.
“That will help,” Inspector Galatian
exulted. “Even though it knocks out
your motive, chief.”
Car Found Abandoned
As morgue attendants prepared the
body for removal, the chief’s men and
the inspector’s detectives searched the
area thoroughly for the murder gun or
other possible clues. In more than two
hours spent in painstakingly combing
the terrain by flashlight, they found
neither a weapon nor any other lead.
From Linden headquarters Chief Car-
mody telephoned Chief Robert Burke
of the Perth Amboy police, requesting
his aid in identifying the victim. Two
of Galatian’s detectives already had set
out for the seashore city with the dead
man’s jacket.
All this time police of the two coun-
ties had been watching in vain for the
murder machine. Finally, at 4 a.m., a
black touring car was found by two
Union County officers, abandoned in a
ditch on a lonely road five miles from
the crime scene. The occupants appar-
ently had fled on foot, although the
gravel road was too rough to reveal
footprints.
Word of the discovery was flashed
to Inspector Galatian in his office at
the Union County courthouse. “Don’t
touch the machine until we get there,”
he commanded the officers. “We might
be able to get some fingerprints.”
Joined by Chief Carmody, the in-
spector and two print experts sped out
to examine the murder car.
Without a doubt it was the auto in
which the slayers had fled. Three bul-
let holes just below the tonneau showed
where the motorcycle policeman’s slugs
had torn into the machine without
effect. :
The license plates were missing. They
had been bent off hurriedly from their
mountings, to which two jagged strips
of steel still clung.
“The killers hardly would have had
time to chisel away the engine and
serial numbers,” declared Galatian. “We
can trace the car through them.”
A brief glance inside the hood showed
the inspector to be correct, and the
numbers were jotted down fer check-
ing with the files of the state motor
vehicle bureau.
Gingerly opening the doors with
gloved hands to avoid smudging pos-
sible prints, the detectives searched. the
car’s interior. Blood stained both the
front seat cushion and the rear carpet.
19
ew - policy.
vee it
o a iF
troops fas scenes
mmitted, be punished: :
al erime for which ‘Brandon: pa
As: committed in August, ats
wa Po | Le
ch, Irdw ar: ‘Kupfer, ‘invan ‘Auto-
ited: on: n-highway: leading into:
“a i “been. shot an they
ae t x evar a time the
ny
make: progress, but: w letter from: B
peal from |e
spa
numbers'.as
“cent. . of them, ine
bout 2a
ie “convinced: ‘the Ne
‘B on: “hac
ro :
oe ie Smut i ,
office had epresente:
t.? wh tu:
elterateg et the’ attorney: ‘or’a
Létters to Mrs. nilo
ing the fig
Spat Pes
t to-save. Br ‘
these missives” “charged”
- and recorded Brandon: nn
xecution . has: lef
ew Jerse
he na TW piing oe Morris
Policemen: found :
: try the farme
atime > were issued ‘|.
3 y by I. Fy Goldenhorn, ‘an- | §
‘other: saws er who: gave. his 4 :
My anid 3,233,455
innocence even to the last, :
. number loaded: with:
<TT
tentatly
Wettling
; Of” 1A
stud
armers ough oO tirst
ther industries concerned
of; gra yhose
eral. Trade
ims ranging from
a0 ‘to. 57 per. ce ont
20 to Bt oe the commission, he: aatd,
‘showed that in
evator own-
oducts despite
ghern
Unie. Phat he
cars: fewer ~loade
with revenue. : freignt | than: during
corresponding... per
‘more «than
r. Loading of
, headded, De
190,630
ling Sma ah:
Mr ie ettling w
and obys
Renistant Garena
“ecause of :
road were conipelled: t
‘al
ae
=}
higher than. “that of the roa Lat
ifte hat, according:
ountry. grain |.
ain States.in}.
heir Anvestment..
ett pectin ot the coun: |
cents a bushel |
dling th
in 1920,” but het :
grain: and grain}.
(11); ATLANTIC 316)
BRANDON, George (aka LAMBLE, Harold V.), electrocuted New Jersey (Union Co.) 8-23-1921,
"New York, April 29, 1929=:The last words of a man who died in the electric chair seven
rears ago still have so much poignancy for his widow that although she is a poor woman in
yxroken health she has embarked on a renewed attempt to clear his name,
"Sheis Mrs, Jeanette Brandon, Her husband, George Brandon, a chauffeur, was convicted under
extraordinary circumstances of a double murder and was executed in New Jersey in 1921 des-
pite a large volume of public protest,
"His last words, before two guards hustled him into the electric chair, were: 'You are about
to witness a terrible tragedy in the killing of a man who is innocent ---,!
"Last week, A, M,. Blattman, a fingerprint expret in theNew York magistrate's courts, sent an
affidavit to the McAllister legislative investigating committee in Trenton offering to prove
that deliberate forgery of fingerprints had sent Brandon to his doom, Russell E, Watson,
chief counsel for the committee, announced the committee would take no action since the
case was 'purely a police and judicial matter,' despite Blattman's contention the execution
was 'political' in that the rea¥ murderer was 'formerly an organizer in the Hudson County
Democratic party.'
"Mrs, Brandon, however, is undeterred by this refusal. With Blattman's affidavit she is
starting all over to clear her husband's name,
"Brandon was convicted of murdering Edith Janney and her fiance, Arthur Kupfer, as they
were motoring near Rahway in 1918. For two years the case was a mystery. Then, from Auburn
Prison, where he had been sent on a charge of burglary - a charge ine maintained was fraudu-
lent - Brandon wrote the authorities he could solve the crime and named a fellow convict,
Charles Perchand,
*But when the murder case was tried, it was Brandon who was the defendant and Perchand
who was the state's chief witness. He testified he and Brandon received a lift from Kupfer
and Brandon killed Both Kupfer and Miss Janney for robbery. Perchand got off with a four-
year sentence.
"At the trial Brandon was defended by Frank M, McDermit of Newark, who was later disbarred
“or his handling of the case. The supreme court found hehad failed to press an appeal be-
sause Brandon's funds gave out and had abandoned his client 'in the very shadow of the elec-
tric chair,'" TIMES-PICAYUNE, New Orleans, bLa., -30-1929 (1/h&5).
BRANDON (aka LAMBLE)
- ___. sr apa ei
Uae
was
os ROBT
my 0: S
, ~~ Re
ay a
HE SPRAWLING gray stone build-
Tex of the New Jersey State Re-
formatory at Linden stood etched in
the bright moonlight at 2 o’clock that
sultry August morning. On the second
floor of his house at the edge of the
grounds, Dr. Frank Moore, the super-
intendent, lay unable to sleep because
of the oppressive heat. From the Rah-
way Turnpike outside the hum of an
occasional passing auto came through
the windows above the drone of the
peepers in the nearby swamps.
Two shots split the air, bringing Dr.
Moore upright in bed. He sprang to
the nearest window, and on the moonlit
road saw two men dragging a third
from the driver’s seat of a black tour-
ing car. The superintendent reached
for his telephone and asked for Linden
police headquarters.
In a moment Dr. Moore was describ-
ing to the desk officer the macabre
scene he was witnessing.
“Ym afraid there’s a woman in
trouble, too, sergeant,” he said softly.
“I just overheard one of the men say,
‘We've got to get rid of the girl!’ You’d
better get someone here in a hurry.
They’ve dumped the fellow into the
ditch beside the pike. . . . They’re get-
ting back into the car. . . . They’re
gone!”
Directly across the street William
1G
& : SS
pass.
\
Se
N
FRONT PACE DETECTIVE, August, 1944
Lawson, audito
pany, was dres
stood at their
trembling hand
a pair of opera
fleeing car. The
aroused by the
Lawson and
street just as
Herbert Orton
lay face down +
blue sports jac
He was hatless
him over. Bloc
front.
Dr. Moore kn:
made a brief exz
pronounced the
that bullet pier
hit only once.”
Both he and
there had been
of the second b:
reformatory su)
motorcycle offic:
about the girl.
Her body was n
Meanwhile tw
the road, anothe:
from his post by
stood with his s
beside his moto:
the highway to
black touring ca:
Arthur Kupfer <
that an employ
bore a grudge
“WE'VE G
A WITNES
canopy.
Here
xecuted
ted. He noticed
ide on the outer
v. “They forced
‘hisel,”’ he said.
in. Then the
nd let the others
the physician.
ng to the widow
s there was only
ie rumpus down
had come down
back stair-land-
to see the mur-
recognize, going
be him?” asked
and had blond
ut and no over-
in the scuffle.
at. It was new,
id of a popular
been purchased
he Atlantic Sea-
as it goes,” said
il sav at least
hing.”
tor.
| Hunter was
‘e actually saw
1 with one blow
ind ’specially a
I traced in the
saw—wouldn’t
th Washington,
re than one set
hen?” the phy-
rs got panicky
fter robbin’ the
much did they
| dollars before
nicky, ’specially
CTIVE MYSTERIES
when they saw they were up against a
man with superhuman strength. That’s
why this one fellow lit out toward the
fields across the way. The others kept
their heads about them and went by the
road out front, same way as all of ’em
came in.”
“Did you find their prints in front?”
“Impossible; too many other people
have been here.”
An assistant of Parker’s, who had
been searching the immediate vicinity,
came in with a chisel. He had found it
near the back door. It was old and
seemingly unidentifiable. Parker com-
pared the chisel with the stab-like
wounds on the victim’s hands, wrists and
forearms.
“The fellow who made these,” he said,
“was standin’ facing Hunter, and prob-
ably hackin’ at him while his friends
helped out by sluggin’ the old man from
the farm might have chanced to over-
hear visiting doctors discussing her hus-
band. The woman answered quickly
that precisely such an occurrence had
taken place two years before. Some phy-
sicians who had come from Philadelphia
and examined her husband had been
bidding good-bye to the latter in front
of the homestead. ‘“Well,” one doctor
had remarked to the farmer, “this has
been most unusual, Mr. Hunter. I
wouldn’t have believed that your heart
was on the right side.”
HERE had been several workmen
near, and the farmer had been dis-
turbed for fear the physician’s remark
might be overheard. He had placed his
fingers to his lips in a gesture calling for
silence, then nodded in the direction of
the workmen. Who the men had been
Mrs. Hunter did not know. If they had
(Above) Hunter farm, showing bridge
where plotters conferred. (Right) James
G. Blaine, Secretary of State, whose rec-
ords gave information about one suspect
behind. You can tell by the slant that the stabber
was facing him and that he had the chisel in his right
hand. Not only that, he Anew that the farmer was
a wrong-sided man.”
“But Ellis, how would that be possible? Only
Hunter’s closest friends, and physicians, and people
like you and me knew that.”
“This man knew, all right,” said Parker. “Otherwise,
why would he have reached clear across his chest to
sink these wounds in the right side when it would have
been easier to have stabbed Hunter in the left side,
seein’ the killer was facin’ him. No, the fact that the
man with the chisel went out of his way to wound
him on the right proves to my way o’ thinkin’ that he
knew Washington’s heart was not on the left side, but
on the right.”
Parker’s conclusions, then, were that one or more
professional thieves from New York had somehow con-
nected up with some one aware of the peculiarities of
the farmer’s physical makeup, and that all had been
involved in the robbery and murder.
But who among those who shared Hunter’s closely
guarded secret would be likely to become involved in
anything like this? Certainly not the physicians, nor
the old man’s close-mouthed religious friends. Was it
possible that one of the local or itinerant workers had
found out?
Later in the day, when the widow was able to discuss
the case, Parker asked her if at any time a worker on
JULY, 1940
overheard, they gave no indication of it.
Word had gone out to apprehend the
blond, hatless and coatless man with the
limp—but it reached Camden too late
to be valuable in connection with an oc-
currence there. The conductor of the
freight train that had passed near the
Cambridge Shelter at 2.23 had seen a
man, answering the subsequently circu-
lated description, in a box car and
chased him away. The car he had ridden
in was littered with cigarette butts, and
there was also an empty brandy bottle
that had contained a costly brand liquor.
The bottle and the butts seemed to bear
out the sleuth’s deductions from the foot-
print trail that the fleeing man had
been intoxicated and a heavy smoker.
No wonder Ellis Parker was destined to
reach the heights in the field of crime
detection!
Meanwhile, he was busy rounding
up all employees and former em-
ployees of Washington Hunter who lived
in the vicinity, hoping to find among
them the traitor who had given away
the secret of the wrong-sided man. The
sleuth was remarkable at measuring the
truthfulness of those he questioned, and
it wasn’t long before he had eliminated
all but one ex-worker—a young man
named Mannock, and called “Whitey”
because his hair was a light blond. Man-
nock wasn’t to be found at his shack,
two miles from the Hunter farm, when
Parker’s men went to get him. He had,
those in the vicinity said, been intoxi-
cated since the date Washington Hunter
met his terrible end.
The detective happened to go into the
Bon Ton haberdashery shop in Mount
Holly to make a purchase the very day
his assistants (Continued on page 95)
23
—_
(Above, left) The Washington Hunter house, scene of the crime.
Assailants entered through door under canopy.
Detective Parker traced footprints in the snow from the farm to railroad tracks at Cambridge (right). Here
(Below) Jail at Mount Holly, N. J., where two of the slayers were executed
the blond man made his getaway.
would have caught the first thing on
wheels going away from the crime scene.
On the way back to the Hunter home-
stead, Parker puffed vigorously on his
briar pipe, his constant habit when figur-
ing things out. By the time he got there,
he had made certain deductions from
those tracks he had followed most of
the night through the snow.
First, he concluded that the man had
been 2 stranger in the vicinity, for he
had traveled over four miles more than
was necessary in order to get to the
railroad tracks. Then, every time the
footprints had approached a house, they
had suddenly swerved off in another di-
rection, indicating that the fugitive had
been untamiliar with landmarks in the
territory.
Secondly, the sleuth deduced that the
man was probably a heavy smoker, be-
cause he had soon reduced his gait to
a walk, after having run apparently at
top speed from the Hunter home.
man as frightened as this one had un-
questionably been would have traveled
at top speed as long as he could, but this
individual had been able to go but a few
hundred vards, indicating that his wind
was bad—one of the symptoms of over-
indulgence in tobacco.
HIRD, the fleeing man had been
drinking to the extent that he was
not in full control of his locomotion. He
had zig-zagged when there had been no
reason to, and on two occasions he had
fallen in smooth spots where there had
been nothing to trip him. The falls
were indicated by the outline of an out-
stretched form in the blanket of white.
Fourth, during the second tumble, the
murderer had apparently injured his
right leg, for thereafter the right foot-
prints were not so deep as the left ones,
indicating that he was favoring his right
leg and putting most of the weight on
the left.
Fifth, the murderer had probably
22
come from New York. He could very
well have lost his hat in a scuffle with
Washington Hunter, but not his over-
coat. And nobody within fifty miles of
Burlington County would have gone out
without an overcoat in such inclement
weather. But the springlike climate in
New York would have fooled anybody
leaving that city for Burlington County.
While the detective had been tracing
the footprints, the County Physician
had made an examination of the body
of the victim. Washington Hunter had
been savagely beaten about the head,
probably by a gun butt, and there were
peculiarly wide stabs on his hands,
wrists, forearms and the right side of his
chest. The examiner was puzzled as to
the weapon that had made such wounds.
Parker looked around the kitchen
where, according to Mrs. Hunter, the at-
tack had taken place about midnight
after her husband had heard noises
downstairs and investigated. He noticed
marks about an inch wide on the outer
sill of the kitchen window. “They forced
this window with a chisel,” he said.
“That's how they got in. Then the
first man came through and let the others
in.
‘ “The others?” asked the physician.
You haven’t been talking to the widow
yet, and I have. She says there was only
one man. She heard the rumpus down
here after her husband had come down
and she arrived on the back stair-land-
ing there just in time to see the mur-
derer, whom she did not recognize, going
out of the kitchen door.”
“How does she describe him?” asked
Parker.
“Says he was short and had blond
hair. Had on a light suit and no over-
coat. He lost his hat in the scuffle.
Wait, I'll get it.”
Parker looked at the hat. It was new,
light green, size 634, and of a popular
make that might have been purchased
almost anywhere along the Atlantic Sea-
board.
“This is all right s’far as it goes,” said
the detective, “but I still say at least
three men were in this thing.”
“Why?” asked the doctor.
“Because Washington Hunter was
strong as an ox. I once actually saw
him knock a horse down with one blow
of his fist. One man—and ’specially a
little fellow like the one I traced in the
snow and Mrs. Hunter saw—wouldn’t
have stood a chance with Washington,
old as he was.”
“Why aren’t there more than one set
of footprints out back, then?” the phy-
sician asked.
“Because the murderers got panicky
when they were caught after robbin’ the
safe, and split up. How much did they
get?”
“About three thousand dollars before
they were discovered.”
“Sure, an’ they got panicky, ’specially
’ . Se . .
TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTERIES
when they sa
man with suj
why this one
fields across
their heads al
road out fro:
came in.”
“Did you {
“Tmpossibl«
have been he
An assista
been searchir
came in with
near the bac
seemingly un
pared the «
wounds on th:
forearms.
“The fellow
“was standin’
ably hackin’
helped out by
(Above
where |
G. Blai
ords ga
behind. You
was facing hi
hand. Not «
a wrong-side
“But Ellis
Hunter’s clo:
like you and
“This man
why would h
sink these wo
been easier t
seein’ the kill
man with th
him on the nm
knew Washin
on the right.’
Parker’s cx
professional t
nected up wi
the farmer’s
involved in t)
But who a
guarded secri
anything like
the old man’
possible that
found out?
Later in th
the case, Par
JULY, 1940
ASHINGTON HUNTER was
a tall, stern man in his early
seventies, who was remarkable
not only because of his amazing
physical prowess but because his heart
was on the right side of his body and the
other organs were likewise transposed.
He operated a highly successful fruit and
produce farm near Riverside, in Bur-
lington County, New Jersey. To this
place from time to time journeyed phy-
sicians for the purpose of examining the
man in the interest of medicine.
Old Hunter submitted to such profes-
sional explorations only half-willingly,
being somewhat ashamed of the fact that
nature had made him a curiosity. He
went to extensive and successful pains
to conceal from residents of Burlington
County the fact that he was a “wrong-
sided” man, as one physician had termed
him, and only his closest friends—half a
dozen deeply religious Quakers like him-
self—were aware of the singularity.
Hunter was not so reticent, however,
about displaying his strength, and it was
one of the sights of the section when
the old man would place a potato in the
palm of his hand and slowly crush it to
pulp with his long, gnarled fingers.
Although religious, Hunter drove a
hard bargain. Scores of hired hands,
many of them itinerant laborers, worked
on his lush |
time—but onl:
toil cheaply.
forbidding fig
with giant stv
waving in the
lowed at indo!
The old m
While he did
fact, neither ¢
keeping it a
parlor of th
tained sums
thousand to f
of the money
cronies, sitting
of an evenin
childless old \
Washington, ”
sometime he
answer to t]
out into the
potato, whicl
fingers, as an
A young m
in later yea!
and infamy,
Burlington C
o’clock of a
that concern
a quiet evel
Holly home.
lington Cow
still raging
and settled
evening nev
He chan
York, whic
terest to P
but ninety
tan, and |
Mount H¢«
had, like h
under mor
and the t
around tw
York, whic
to that o!
joyed a Ss]
sun, a tem
trace of s)
During
neighbors
The caller
York,
“T see
spring the
Chief.
“The p:
bor—and
yuLy, 1940
‘GTON HUNTER was
stern man in his early
2s, Who was remarkable
\v because of his amazing
s but because his heart
side of his body and the
‘re likewise transposed.
ghly successful fruit and
‘ear Riverside, in Bur-
New Jersey. To this
to time journeyed phy-
irpose of examining the
est of medicine.
bmitted to such profes-
ns only half-willingly,
ishamed of the fact that
e him a curiosity. He
‘e and successful pains
residents of Burlington
that he was a “wrong-
ie physician had termed
: closest friends—half a
gious Quakers like him-
of the singularity.
so reticent, however,
his strength, and it was
s of the section when
d place a potato in the
and slowly crush it to
g, gnarled fingers.
ous, Hunter drove a
cores of hired hands,
ierant laborers, worked
eph Obert of. ~
Ne Jy looks ©
illers of the”
E DETECTIVE MYSTERIES
on his lush hundred acres at harvest
time—but only if they were willing to
toil cheaply. He was an arresting and
forbidding figure as he ranged the fields
with giant strides, his long gray hair
waving in the autumn winds as he bel-
lowed at indolent workers
The old man wouldn’t trust banks.
While he didn’t exactly advertise the
fact, neither did he go to any length in
keeping it a secret that the safe in the
parlor of the homestead always con-
tained sums ranging from twenty-five
thousand to forty thousand dollars, most
of the money in gold coins. His Quaker
cronies, sitting around the great fireplace
of an evening with him and his frail,
childless old wife, often warned “Friend
Washington,” as they called him, that
sometime he might be robbed. Hunter’s
answer to that would be to snort, go
out into the kitchen and return with a
potato, which he would crush with his
fingers, as an expression of his strength.
A young man named Ellis Parker, who
in later years was to know both fame
and infamy, left his office as Chief of
Burlington County Detectives about nine
o’clock of a night in March in the year
that concerns us, and prepared to spend
a quiet evening reading in his Mount
Holly home. A blizzard had struck Bur-
lington County that morning, and was
still raging as the detective lit his pipe
and settled down to read a Philadelphia
evening newspaper.
He chanced upon an item from New
York, which had been of particular in-
terest to Philadelphians, whose city was
but ninety miles distant from Manhat-
tan, and less than twenty miles from
Mount Holly. Philadelphia, he read,
had, like his home town, been blanketed
under more than eight inches of snow,
and the temperature had been down
around twenty above zero; but New
York, which usually had weather similar
to that of the Quaker City, had en-
joyed a spring-like day, with a bright
sun, a temperature of sixty and not a
trace of snow.
During the evening, one of Parker’s
neighbors had stopped in to say hello.
The caller had just returned from New
York.
“T see by the paper it’s been like
spring there today,” said the Detective
Chief.
“The paper’s right,” said the neigh-
bor—and although he did not realize it,
JULY, 1940
the sleuth had acquired a valuable clue
to a grim happening for which fate was
then setting the stage.
It was about one o’clock the follow-
ing morning, at which time the blizzard
had abated, that Parker was aroused
from bed by two visitors—residents of
Riverside, a few miles distant. They
bore the tidings that Washington Hunter
had been murdered.
RRIVING at the homestead a short
time later, the little sleuth found
that the victim had been savagely
beaten and stabbed. The safe had been
broken into. The widow was hysterical
and couldn’t be ‘questioned. Deciding
that the clues in the farmhouse could
wait, Parker got a lantern, went outside
and began to examine the vicinity for
clues. In the fields across the road from
the house, he found a single set of foot-
prints in the freshly fallen snow. Judging
from their appearance, the person who
had made them had been running away
at top speed, but hadn’t been a very tall
or heavy man.
The trail led some five hundred yards
distant from the homestead, where there
was a gully thickly lined with trees.
Just beyond the trees ran the railroad
tracks. The footprints, however, did
not go through the gully, but began to
parallel it. The detective stuck to the
trail for several hours. He followed the
impressions in the snow for five miles—
to the outskirts of a little farm settle-
ment, making observations on the wav
The prints stopped abruptly alongside
of the tracks of the Pennsylvania Rail-
road over which passed passenger and
freight trains running between Trenton
and Camden. There was a signal tower
less than fifty feet from where the trail
ended, so Parker questioned the man
there. This railroad emplovee said he
had seen a man loitering in the Cam-
bridge railroad passenger shelter nearby
about two in the morning. “I noticed
him,” said the towerman, “because he
wasn’t wearin’ an overcoat or a hat.”
The railroad employee had been too
busy with his routine duties to pay much
attention to the loiterer. Parker asked
what trains had passed the tower about
the time the man had been hanging
around. There had been a 2:23 headed
toward Camden and a 3:15 going in the
opposite direction. Both had been
freights, and each had slowed down for
a signal.
The detective decided that the suspect
had hopped the 2:23 for Camden. That
had been the first train to pass through
after the man’s arrival in the vicinity of
the tower, and it seemed likely that he
> terme at Go Sees o
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re ELLIS PARKER
to say something to them because the train was nearly
empty and there wasn’t much doing. I noticed that all
four of them were dressed in brand-new Easter suits with-
out overcoats, just like a bunch of dudes. They didn’t
scem anxious for my company, and none of them said
much to me, but I’ll swear they all four spoke with a
German accent, and when they talked among themsclves
it was in German.”
“German, ch! Can you describe any of them?”
“Well, I can try. There was one fellow in a kind of
brownish suit. He was blonde and had a fat face. Maybe
he would be five feet six, very heavy and stocky built, with
blue eyes and a small nose. I noticed him because he
seemed to be half-drunk, and they kept giving him an-
other pull from a bottle of whisky one of them had.”
“Yes, go on.” The description fitted in perfectly with
the meager details I had on the robber who had escaped
cross country to Atco. Dennison closed his eyes in the
effort to remember and went on:
“Then there was a taller one that didn’t say much. I
got the idea he was the boss of them. I recollect he had
something heavy in his side pocket, and a tie-pin like a
horseshoe. He was sort of sandy-haired, with a trick of
twitching one eye, like this. He was the one that handed
me the tickets. Heavy eyebrows and dressed in black.
The other two I didn’t notice specially, because I didn't
have any reason to, but one of them had a funny-looking
mole with a couple of hairs growing out of it on the side
of his neck.”
I felt I was getting somewhere at last. This Dennison
was a jewel. “Now admitting that these fellows committed
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN sis
a murder in Riverside about half-past twelve, what train
would they be likely to take ack to New York?”
Gillingham answered. “There isn’t any train they
could take before morning unless they hopped a freight.
‘The only passenger train is the Washington express.”
I thought that over for a minute. It was just possible
that they had hopped a freight, but I didn’t think so. In
those days nobody but hoboes rode the rods and these
young men were natty dresse*s. They wouldn’t care much
for freight trains, especially with the three thousand
dollars they had taken from old Hunter in their pockets.
N 0, it would be more natural for them to take a passenger
train.
“What's the first passenger train they could catch?” I
asked.
“The milk train, leaves here at 5:35,” said Gillingham.
“That would bring it to Riverside about 6:05. Why, that’s
Tom Owen’s train. He’s the nan who had 492 from Tren-
ton that night of the split rua. He'll be here any minute
Nowe So
“I don’t want the time at Riverside,” I told them. “I
don’t think our men would be foolish enough to get on
there after committing a murder in the town five or six
hours before. No, they'd walk to some other town for
their getaway. Now, let’s se+ about how far they could
walk in that amount of time. We have to remember they
would be going slow on account of the snow.”
_ We got out a map and figured it out. There were about
‘IX stations they could have reached—Beverly, Perkins
and Delanco on the north of Riverside, and Cambridge,
Riverton and Palmyra south of it. All of them were Jot
>>
re
Les en ee
104 ELLIS PARKER
affairs before and I went to see him myself. He lived ina
little shack near Riverside, and when we came in, re-
ceived us without taking his hat off and in obvious dis-
comfort. Where had he been that night? “None of your
business,” he answered.
I noticed the hat he had on was new. I stood looking
at him as though I were thinking up something to ask
him next, whistling away as though absent-mindedly.
But the tune I whistled was “Where Did You Get That
Hat.’ When he recognized it he flushed.
“All right, Keough,” I said suddenly, “where did you
get that hat? Suppose you tell us about it.”
“] got it right in the Bon-Ton Store in Mount Holly, if
you want to know,” he said fiercely.
“And what became of the old one you had last weck?"
“T threw it out on the garbage dump. It wasn’t good
for anything, anyway.”
The.man was lying, and lying in a hurry so he was
doing it badly. The hat in Hunter’s kitchen had been
new. Now I’ve found that if you give a liar a chance to
build up a really good story, it’s hard to crack it after-
ward. I offered him a little help in getting himself en-
tangled.
“Let’s see,” I said. “The garbage dump is over on the
other side of town, back of the mill. You went over there
and threw the old hat away, and then came back through
town and stopped at the Bon-Ton to get the new onc. Is
that right?”
He snapped at the bait. ““That’s right. That’s just the |
way I did.”
“It is, is it? That was the day of the blizzard. You
i
Re
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 105,
walked three miles from here to te garbage dump, threw
away your old hat, then walked back to the Bon-Ton a
mile and a half through all that storm to get a new one,
bareheaded. Suppose you come. along and tell me the
rest of it atthe station.” ; :
Even then he didn’t crack. He refused to tell where he
had been the night of the murder, but just as stoutly he
denied all connection with it. That business of the hat
should have been the clincher, but it wasn’t. There was
something queer and unnatural about the whole busi-
ness and for a while I couldn’t put my finger on it. I went
down and had Keough try on the hat from Hunter’s
kitchen. It wasn’t a very good fit, and that didn’t seem
right either, for the hat was practically new and I couldn’t
picture him getting a new hat that didn’t fit him. And
when I came to check up on his possible companions I
found that nobody knew of any particular cronies of
his. He was a solitary character. |
Then I remembered that Keough had limped a little
while I was taking him to jail. That fitted with the fact
that the Atco robber had limped when he got off the
train at Camden—and then I remembered. The wrong
man was limping! The Atco robber, the limping one,
had been the one unfamiliar with this part of the coun-
try, whereas if Keough were one of the murderers he was
certainly one of those who had run away down the road.
I had been assuming that the limping robber had some-
how been hurt in the struggle with Hunter; now I sent
a doctor down to find out why Keough was going lame.
I'he doctor came back with a funny expression on his
fice and the news that Keough had kicked like a balky
ELLIS PARKER
mule at being examined, and when he did get to him, he
found some bird-shot in one leg. Well, when I heard that
I just sat back and laughed. You know this part of the
country? Bird-shot is what farmers use when they catch
somebody robbing the hen-roosts or the melon patch. I
sat back and laughed and then I sent Dean out to canvass
the farmers of the neighborhood. Sure enough he hadn't
been at it for halfa day before he found a farmer who had
heard a noise in the chicken-coop the night of the bliz-
zard, and going to the window had let drive with his shot-
gun at a dark form in the yard.
“I got the feller’s hat here, too,” said the farmer and
handed it over. I took it down and it fitted Keough as
though it were made for him. Investigating one crime I
had stumbled onto the trail of another one, and Keough
had gotten himself involved in a murder case by being
afraid to admit he was stealing half a dozen chickens that
same hight.. The coincidence of two robbers both losing
their hats on the same night had done the rest.
That was all right for Keough, but it didn’t go very
far to solve the murder of Washington Hunter. I had
finished up the list of local men who had worked for
him, and they were all eliminated. But if they were out,
then the leader of the gang must have come from out of
town; it must be someone who had formerly worked for
Hunter and who had been there when one of the doctors
found the old man’s heart wasn’t in the right place. I
went back over the case, looking for some unnatural de-
tail that would give me a starting point, and then for the
first time I realized that the most unnatural detail of all
had been right under my nose all the time—that blizzard.
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 107
The robber Mrs. Hunter saw hadn’t worn any over-
coat. Neither had the Atco robber, though they might be
the same man. And the lost hat had been a spring felt,
the last thing in the world a man would wear in a bliz-
zard. In. other words, the robbers had come dressed for
a bright spring day. Now in New York that day had been
a bright spring day, but in sout!.ern New Jersey and
Philadelphia a snowstorm; therefore the robbers had
probably come from New York.
You might say that they were toc hard up to have over-
coats, but that wouldn’t go. At least one of them wasn’t
too hard up to have an expensive spring hat, and since
they weren’t local men they were not too hard up to have
come here on the train.
That opened up a whole new line of inquiries. I
hurried over to the station at Riverside and asked the
station-master there if he remembered anything about
who had got off the New York trains on the night of the
murder. “Which train?” he askec. and gave me a time-
table that showed only three trains stopping at Riverside
from New York during the afternoon and evening. The
four-twelve was too early, and if the murderers had come
on the train that went through about nine, they would
have to wait around for three hors in that storm with-
out any overcoats on. But there was another one that went
through about 11:40 which was just about right. 3
I pointed it out to him. “No,” he said, “I don’t re-
_ member anybody in particular on that train. I wish I
could help you, but—”
“It would help a lot,” I told him, “if I could confirm
the fact that the men came on that train and find out
= am) myrey
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Fis, og : Be) oe een .
cumstances diester eer Mie aiet eae eae ee
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ELLIS PARKER
how many of them there were. Is there any way of trac-
ing that?”
“Why don’t you go to the auditor’s office in Philly?”
he suggested. “The tickets go in there after they’re taken
up, and there won’t be so many for Riverside on that
train.”
I went on to Philly. Mr. Gillingham, the auditor of the
road, was one of the keenest men I ever met. He was ex-
cited when I told him what I was there for, and sent for
the bundles of tickets for the road for that day. .
“We only keep them for a month till we make our
check,” he told me, “It’s lucky you came in when you
did. They'd be gone in a few days more.”
The tickets were packaged in little bundles, according
to the trains on which they had been collected. We
opened up the bundle for the 11:40, and when we got
through the pack, there were seven tickets for Riverside.
Two of them were from Bordentown, which counted
them out. The other five were all from Jersey City. I
didn’t think there were five men in the gang, but when
I came to look at the tickets I found that while one of
them was a printed ticket the other four were all paper
slips in which only the words “Jersey City” were printed,
the “Riverside” being written in.
“What’s the difference between these two kinds of
tickets?” I asked.
“Oh, those with the word written in are what we call
‘foreign’ tickets,” he said. ‘That is, they were issued at
some point where we haven't any station. Probably New
York in this case. You see our tickets are sold in the ferry
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 109
terminals in New York City, but they are only good from
Jersey City down, where we have our station.”
Then four of those tickets on that one train are from
"New York. Will anyone be able to tell me anything about
the men who used them?”
“Let's see,” he said, taking the tickets and laying them
together. “Ah, they were all punched at the same time.
You sec,” he held them up to show how the punch-marks
corresponded, and then pulled down a big register from
over his desk. ““That was a train with a split run. Thomas
Dennison was the conductor down from Jersey City to
Trenton, and those are his punch-marks. He’s one of the
best men on the line. He’ll be able to tell you about the
group of four that turned in those tickets if anybody
will, From Trenton down Owen was the conductor:
Owen's a good man, not as good as Dennison, but he
might be able to remember. I'll have both of them in here
for you about five tonight, and if you’re on hand they
may have something for you.”
I was on hand. Dennison was a tall, slow-moving chap
every bit as smart as Gillingham had said he was, When
I asked him if he remembered who had turned in the
four tickets, he considered, frowning:
“Probably you'll remember it by the fact that it was
the night we had the blizzard down at this end of the
ne while they had fine weather in Jersey City,” I told
lim.
“Oh, that night. By George, yes, I should say I do
remember!” He turned the tickets over in his hand
There were four of them, all young men, and I sforined
oe alpen diate Ya ao ited
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poration’ <sloucester, Pipe co.
. Sometinne befween
Dutrone® Haneen. date uncerfam. oa) pf Hata
Sources * MMimates books of the Nu ersiy vupresiie | court,
Division of Archives, Nts versey state ADF ary
Trenton. Also Minutes of the loucester (arty
Lourt of Prec solders, Mecratite copy, No2+-
a
BARTH, Kurt, wh, elec. NJ (Essex) March 22, 19
size
BLACK
1934, in the little town of Bloomfield, New Jer-
sey. The air was raw. A cold misty rain had been
drizzling down all day. Like an enveloping blanket
the misty darkness drew itself around the arc light
that illuminates the front of Julius Friedman’s Haber-
dashery Store at 417-A Broad Street. Despite the
unfavorable weather the little business section about
T was seven-thirty on the evening of April 6th,
AMERICAN DETECTIVE, September,’ 1934
The Caseror the”
SEDA
By Detective Lieutenant Joseph Cocozza
of the Essex County, New Jersey, Prosecutor’s Office
As told to Adrian B. Lopez
the arc light was fairly crowded as Edward Merkle and
Justin Cocke, two young men from the neighboring
town of Glen Ridge, New Jersey, pulled up in Cocke’s
car in front of Friedman’s store. Cocke parked the
car between a Chevrolet and a black Plymouth sedan,
and directly under the shimmering rays of the light.
As the two young men got out of the car and walked
past the entrance of Friedman’s store they noticed
The scene of the crime—Broad Street, Bloomfield, New Jersey. The black sedan was parked in front of .
the haberdashery store, a little to the reader’s: right. North’s Drug Store can be seen at the left.
one
trai
lani
nothing «
haberdast
fountain
time was
and Josey
was just
out of th
door and
“T sup}
darn foo
the rema:
It was no
nor the :
terrifyin,
in the d
neighbor
sons whx
Clark, w
just goin
ting his
and cam
there jus
like a w
hind hir
collapse
4 “eM
© plied. CG
carry Ju
man on
fast exp
“Who
Friedma
Julius
blood cl
was the
“Get
little crc
trance t
Josep]
.some sm
minister
ever, W:
Clark’s
tity of |
= JT arrr
t Chief o:
» departm
» Mounta
| Gullard
»-in an ei
Va
a
before seven o’clock. The
April evening was dark,
raw and threatening rain. Traffic
was meager but geared to a
hurry-to-get-home tempo. In the
warm, well-lighted haberdashery
shop at 417-A Broad Street in
Bloomfield, New Jersey, the pro-
prietor was showing a customer a
rack of colorful ties. In the drug
store next door, the youthful soda
jerker was serving sundaes to
three sweater-clad boys.
ik was exactly one minute
One minute later the explosion
of a gun and the scream of a man
in agony tore the air. The three
boys and the soda jerker dashed
for the street in time to see a dark
sedan, with tail light extinguished,
streak from the curb and disappear
around a corner. On the sidewalk...
near the curb, was the crumpled,
bleeding form of Julius Friedman,
the haberdasher.
Patrolman Robert Clark, who
had just come on duty, raced to
the fallen man and ordered the
collecting crowd to stand
away. The haberdasher was
badly wounded, he observed
immediately. He jerked his
head at the soda dispenser.
“Phone for an ambulance—
and headquarters. Hurry!”
The youth galloped away into
action.
The wounded man’s
white and dry, moved. °
“Shot me... He...
“Who .. . who. did. i,
Julius?” Clark pressed.
lips,
teh i 4
County) March 22, 1935.
nats
~ EP,
Sketch madecfram the only
available photograph ~~
of .JULIUSMERIED MAN.
* Shag +
a
“Young man .. .” The lips
remained open but no other sounds
emerged. The eyelids fluttered,
then closed. A grimace of pain
froze itself on his face.
“Who did it, Julius— who?”
Clark said urgently.
“Young man. . . sedan.”
The clang of the ambulance
bell and the wail of a squad
ar siren suddenly filled the air.
ee A moment later Dr.
Edward Gullard
~ of Moun-
tainside
Hos-
pital, Montclair, wedged his way
through the crowd, followed by
Chief of Police Charles F. Jensen and
Detective Lieutenant John Whelan
and Detectives Tom Spatcher, Fred
England and Fred Hess, Bloomfield’s
crack “four-horsemen” team.
While the doctor was rapidly
working on the now unconscious
form, Detective Lieutenant Joseph
Cocozza of the Prosecutor’s office, a
slender, dapper man, whose excep-
tional ability in criminal investi-
gation was the Nemesis of countless
criminals, arrived in another car.
He was also Essex County’s official
fingerprint and ballistics expert.
Dr. Gullard suddenly straight-
ened up.
“No use. He’s gone.”
“Bullet wound?” Chief Jensen
queried.
“Yes. Just above the heart.
The autopsy will give you
the whole story.”
The doctor departed and
Cocozza knelt beside the
body, while Hess, Eng-
land and Spatcher
began to question
members of the crowd
and shopkeepers on
the block.
Cocozza studied the
bloodstained area
of the wound with
interest. The jacket
and the shirt were
“scorched by: powder burns, appar-
oe
%
ent’ signs of close range ‘firing.
Cocozza’s eyes went to, the dead.
man’s nose bridge, noting the slight.
pinch of the flesh at the sides, and
then to the tousled black hair. = *
He ran his hand over. the victim’s = ~
clothes and brought out a black.
wallet. A perfunctory glance at the"
contents revealed 40 dollars in cur-
rency. and a number of business
cards and receipts. ;
Cocozza said to Jensen, who was
watching him with interest:
“He was shot at close range with
a .38, judging from the size of the
wound. Give me a hand, we'll turn.
him over.” .
The body was turned over. Co-
cozza’s eyes and fingers went: over
the haberdasher’s back. Raising the
jacket, he satisfied himself that
there was no bullet exit.
Jensen beckoned to the officers, -
who had arrived in a precinct patrol
wagon, and ordered them to remove
the body to the morgue. Then he
and Cocozza stepped inside the
haberdashery shop, where the coun-
ters and floor cases displayed a
colorful variety of men’s wares.
Cocozza went directly to the
small cash register and found inside
60 dollars in bills and change.
On the floor, near the rear coun~
ter, he and Jensen spied a pair
of spectacles. fate
“Friedman’s, no doubt,” Cocozza
HISTORICAL ACCOUNT | |
SP wes Meh Oy
tans
OF THE
FIRST SETTLEMENT OF. SALEM,
IN WEST JE RSEY,
By JOHN FENWICK, Esq.
CHIEF PROPRIETOR oF THE SAME;
WITH MANY OF THE IMPORTANT
VENTS THAT HAVE oc-
CURRED,
NT GENERATION,
F ONE HUN-
DRED AND FIFTY YEARs,
DOWN TO THe PRESE
EMBRACING A PERIOD 0
— ee
———.
BY R. a. JOHNSON,
N5
PHILADELPHIA: ; ve
PUBLISHED BY ORRIN ROGERS, 12
No. 67 South Second Street, > en
1839, ‘ a" ; a a> : ;
9 = SMe OCI EV CN Ot IU rere Oi, Sallis
Sherron, Esq. Present, Isaac Sharp, John Mason,
Alexander Grant, Justices—Joseph Gregory, Daniel
Rumsey, John Brick, Andrew Hopman, and John
Loyd, freeholders,
The freeholders sworn to try the prisoners-in con-
Junction with the justices, according to evidence.
The justices and freeholders ordered Mr. William
Griflin to prosecute the prisoners in behalf of our
sovereign lord the king.
Hager, the negro woman, brought to the bar, and
her accusation being read, pleaded not guilty, yet
acknowledged that she knew of the intended mur-
der, and was present when her master was mur-
dered.
John Hunt, sworn. The said Hunt declared the
said murdered person had been a living person, only
for the said Hager, who met the said Hunt the even-
ing the murder was done, between the said Hager's
master’s plantation, and the house of John Gentry.
And that the said Hager urged the said Hunt to go
and kill her master; that the negro boy named Ben
Was with the said Hager when they met, and so
went near the house of the murdered person; and
SHERIFF MURDERED ‘79
was extant to permit such a cruel and barbarous execution links
early Salem with the Middle Ages,
Much has been written of the punishment of witchcraft in
Salem, Mass, by burning at the Stake, but it is little known that
Salem, N. J., also burned a person at the Stake, not for witch-
going North, just Past the railroad spur and a short distance
fs
ville. The site is Close to the present state road on the right
om the beginning of the old willow causeway,
ae HISTORY OF SALEM
features of early colonial justice. This time they proceeded
with two judges, Isaac Sharp and Richard Johnson, and four
justices, John Mason, Alexander Grant, Samuel Smith and David
Rumsey. Present also was a petit Jury, which was lacking in
the first case. After the presentation of the grand jury and the
usual proclamation for silence John Hunt, the actual murderer,
pleaded not guilty. Mary Williams, the last of the defendants,
also pleaded not guilty.” The record of this cause is without
summarized evidence and all we have is the bare declaration
that Mary Williams was found guilty of knowing of the intend-
ed murder of James Sherron before it was committed and of
concealing the same. Despite the fact that she was undoubtedly
an accessory before the fact, she was only fined 100 pounds and
ordered to remain in jail until the amount was paid. Hunt was
convicted and sentenced to death, being first allowed to show
cause why the sentence of death should not be passed upon him.
One other negro slave by the name of Kizar was released from
custody during the trial and absolved from blame.
It is a matter of regret that the records of this case were
not more fully stated and set out. The lack of it makes it nec-
essary to do a great amount of conjecture in studying the trial,
which even in its paucity of detail is a Dicturesque case in
colonial trial procedure. It is evident that the female slave
Hager was convicted and burned at the stake under a very
ancient English statute of 1351, which provided that a servant
who killed his master, a wife who killed her husband or an
ecclesiastical person who killed his superior was guilty of petty
treason. The breach of civil connections coupled with murder
constituted the offense. The jurists of that early day classed it
as small or petty treason because of the violation of the private
allegiance. The penalty provided by the law for female servants
was drawing and quartering, but in Hager’s case this variety
of medieval punishment was evidently not imposed. Salem
county justice was satisfied with burning at the stake.
Evidently the boy Ben and Hunt were not slaves of Mr.
Sherron because their penalty seems to have been hanging and
gibbeting without recourse to other gruesome punishment. Yet
it is by inference only that we can conclude that they did not
add petty treason to their crime of murder. The act under
which Hager was convicted was in force in England up to the
passage of the Offenses against the Person Act in 1861 and no
benefit of clergy obtained in this particular species of crime.
The antiquity of Salem is emphasized by contemplating such
punishment in this county. The fact that this statute of 135]
2 The statute of Parva Proditio—25th, Edward 3rd.
(11), ALLANTIC 31,6)
BRANDON, George (aka LAMBLE, Harold Ve), electrocuted New Jersey (Union Co.) 8-23-1921,
"New York, April 29, 1929-"The last words of a man who died in the electric chair seven
years ago still have so much poignancy for his widow that although she is a poor woman in
broken health she has embarked on a renewed attempt to clear his name,
"Sheis Mrs, Jeanette Brandon, Her husband, George Brandon, a chauffeur, was convicted under
_ extraordinary circumstances of a double murder and was executed in New Jersey in 1921 des-
_pite a large volume of public protest.
"His last words, befortk two guards hustled him into the electric chair, were: 'You are about
to witness a terrible tragedy in the killing of a man who is innocent «--,!
"Last week, A, M,. Blattman, a fingerprint expert in theNew York magistrate's courts, sent an
affidavit to the McAllister legislative investigating committee in Trenton offering to prove
that deliberate forgery of fingerprints had sent Brandon to his doom, Russell E. Watson,
chief counsel for the committee, announced the committee would take no action since the
Case was ‘purely a police and judicial matter, ! despite Blattman's contention the execution
was 'political' in that the reav murderer was 'formerly an organizer in the Eudson County
Democratic party.! |
"Mrs. Brandon, however, is undeterred by this refusal. With Blattman's affidavit she is
starting all over to clear her husband's name, ‘
"Brandon was convicted of murdering Edith Janney and her fiance, Arthur Kupfer, as they
were motoring near Rahway in 1918, For two years the case was a mystery, Then, from Auburn
Prison, where he had been sent on a charge of burglary - a charge he maintained was fraudu-
lent - Brandon wrote the authorities he could’ solve the crime and named a fellow convict,
Charles Perchand,
*But ‘when the murder case was tried, it was Brandon who was the defendant and Perchand
who was the state's chief witness. He testified he and Brandon recéived a lift from Kupfer
and Brandon killed Both Kupfer and Miss Janney for robbery. Perchand got off with a four-
year sentence,
"At the trial Brandon was defended by Frank M, McDermit of Newark, who was later disbarred
for his handling of the case, The supreme court found hehad failed to press an appeal be-~
cause Brandon's funds gave out and had abandoned his client 'in the very shadow of the elec-~
tric chair.'" TIMES-PICAYUNE, New Orleans, La., 4-30-1929 (1/h&5),.
e
Pe ee AN LN \ oa 4%
ae said the prisoner,
nd asked the guy to
: us a lift. He said
*" | thought we
w ere just gonna grab
a
RIGHT moonlight bathed the
sprawling gray stone buildings
” of the New Jersey State Re-
formatory at Linden, shortly before
2 o'clock that sultry morning in
Pie, August. Dr. Frank Moore, the su-
in perintendent, lay in bed on the sec-
is ond floor of his house at the edge
of the grounds, unable to sleep be-
cause of the oppressive heat.
Through the window from the out-
side came the hum of an occasional
é»". passing auto on the Rahway Turn-
Suddenly two shots split the air,
bringing Dr. Moore upright in bed.
He strode to the window, and on
the moonlit road saw two men
dragging a third from the driver's
seat of a black touring car. Reach-
ing for his telephone, the superin-
tendent asked for Linden police
headquarters.
Moments later, Dr. Moore was de-
scribing to the desk officer the mac-
abre scene he was witnessing.
“There seems to be a woman in
trouble, too, sergeant,” he said soft-
ly. “I just overheard one of the
men say, ‘We've got to get rid of
the girl!’ You'd better get someone
here in a hurry. They’ve dumped
the fellow into the ditch beside the
pike ... they’re getting back into
the car... they're gone!”
Across the turnpike from the su-
perintendent’s house, there had
been other witnesses. William Law-
son, auditor for an aircraft com-
pany, was dressing hastily. His wife
stood at their bedroom window, her
trembling hands holding to her eyes
a pair of opera glasses trained on
the fleeing car. The Lawsons, too,
had been aroused by the shots.
Lawson and Dr. Moore reached
the highway just as Patrolman Her-
bert Orton arrived on his motorcy-
cle. There a man lay face down
with mud streaks on his blue sports
jacket and gray flannels. He was
hatless. Orton gently turned him
ever and saw that blood drenched
his shirtfront.
Kneeling beside the body, Dr.
Moore made a brief examination.
“This man is dead,” he said short-
ly. “He was shot only once, but
it looks like that bullet pierced his
heart.”
KE Veter) C Dersctt UE_
hy Barton Black
He and Lawson both were posi-
tive there had been two shots.
What, then, of the second bullet?
Back on the turnpike in Linden,
on the outskirts of Rahway, Police
Chief Raymond Carmody and In-
spector John A. Galatian, chief of
Union County detectives, had ar-
rived at the scene with several men.
Carmody and Galatian examined
the victim’s body and clothing for
clues to his identity. He had no
rings and his pockets contained
neither a wallet, bills nor change.
“I'd say this was a gang killing,”
Carmody observed.
This initial theory was discred-
ited, however, when all the labels
on the victim's clothing were found
intact. Gang slayers seeking to pre-
vent the identification of a corpse,
the officers well knew, would not
have left such telltale marks. On
the inside of the man’s jacket was
the label of an exclusive men’s shop
in Perth Amboy, N. J.
“This ought to be helpful,” Gala-
tian said, ‘even though it knocks
out your motive, Chief.”
Back at Linden headquarters,
Chief Carmody telephoned Chief
Robert Burke of the Perth Amboy
police, requesting his aid in iden-
tifying the victim. Two of Gala-
tian’s detectives already had set out
for the seashore city with the dead
man’s jacket.
EANWHILE police of the two
counties had been watching in
vain for the murder machine.
Finally, at 4 A.M., a black touring
car was found by two Union Coun-
ty officers, abandoned in a ditch
on a lonely road five miles from the
crime scene. The occupants appar-
ently had fled on foot, although
(Continued on page 46)
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REVEALING DETECTIVE CASES
PRIVATE DETECTIVES
(Continued from page 6)
Yes, indeed; I know how it is.
Such cases are getting to be rou-
tine. The husband had another
woman on his mind. He would like
to divorce his faithful wife and
marry again. Likewise the type of
wife who wants new marital pas-
tures to graze in. Their story is al-
ways standard, belt-line stuff with
a very cluck sound.
“I want you to check on where
my husband goes at night,” is the
usual opening. “Besides, he’s acting
very cold toward me lately.”
I ask the usual why and I get
the usual answers. I ask, “Have you
any proof that your husband has
been seeing another woman?” And
the answer is always the same,
“Well, not exactly, but I feel that
he is.” Just how she or any other
woman can feel such things, I don’t
know. Nor do they.
A few months ago we had a
boomerang case. The wife in the
affair was blonde, courtesy of per-
oxide, and was attractive in an ar-
tificial way. She had the voice and
some of the early manner of Mae
West, God’s gift to dumb men. She
had graduated from the chorus in-
to a marriage of convenience, with
money most of the convenience.
However, two years of marriage to
the same Sugar Pop began to dull
the lady’s zest for matrimony. She
would like to untie the marital
knot. Would I check her husband
and see what he was doing, please?
I informed her that I would not
care to handle her case. En route
out, she pouted from my desk to
the door. However, she would have
been amazed and irked if I told
her what I knew about her, not her
husband. I had seen her at the
Hialeah racetrack with a small-
time lawyer who was a wolf.
Let us assume these restless
wives and husbands had gone to
a shyster private detective. First,
the quack would pry into the
client’s bank account. If fat and
healthy, you have no idea what can
be accomplished in the form of evi-
dence. If the husband wants some-
thing on a wife—a faithful wife,
that is—it will be arranged. For
instance, in the case of a wife seek-
ing evidence for divorce, the shy-
ster will contact another of the
same breed who will arrange to
have a woman meet the husband
in a man-trap. At a certain mo-
ment when, say, the husband and
woman were merely sitting on the
divan talking, the door will burst
open, a flashlight camera will click,
and the ever-loving wife begins to
shed lamentations all over the
place.
Wives, of course, are framed in
the same manner, and a divorce
is the usual picture in the frame.
In some instances, the shyster de-
tective has the astounding nerve
to tell either wife or husband, as
the case may be, that the whole
thing was legitimate and on the
level. And the fee for such an un-
ethical outrage is truly munificent
and princely.
HERE is no glamour in legit-
imate private detective work,
radio and detective fiction notwith-
standing. It is, please believe me,
the most unglamorous and tedious
labor on earth. Being a night
watchman in a lumber yard is fas-
cinating in comparison. For ex-
ample, take what we call “tailing.”
You spot your man or woman and
you must report what they do from
day to day. You wait until they
quit their home .in the morning;
you wait until they go to lunch;
you wait for this, for that, and you
wait, wait, wait, period.
The public seems to believe that
a private detective possesses some
mystic, psychic powers, and they
expect results promptly. They ex-
pect magic, forgetting that the
only magic used by legitimate,
honest private operatives is hard,
arduous toil. Magic powers would
be most welcome, I assure you, but
I know of no private sleuth who
has any. The most successful of
our kind have a large quantity of
patience and perseverance, the two
most important ingredients in the
profession.
Without them we are all failures.
‘Listen, Blondie: One
Peep Outa You And—"’
(Continued from page 16)
the gravel road was too rough to
reveal footprints.
The officers flashed word of the
discovery to Inspector Galatian in
his office at the Union County
courthouse. “Don’t touch the ma-
chine until we get there,” he com-
manded. “We might be able to get
some fingerprints.”
The inspector, joined by Chief
Carmody and two print experts,
sped out to examine the murder
car.
The detectives gingerly opened
the doors with gloved hands to
avoid smudging possible prints and
searched the car’s interior. Blood
stained both the front seat cushion
and the rear carpet. They found
no gun and only one other object
—a woman’s powderpuff, almost
hidden in the crevice between the
cushion and back of the front seat.
Just above the dashboard, and
on top of the left front door, how-
ever, the experts lifted two sets of
prints, each clear enough to be
photographed.
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CELO AR
-
nt
During ‘the. course. of the Faye
ree eh War Watwriah Rast An for Fissued [Mant to Ask hs
ajor arles (BY. ni : : EEA
pon, AN: Intelligence: offiver.”. who » te OKS: ‘
abe art, Intelligence Vit 10.8 ; i Special : : Counsel tos
Area: by. “Major:,Gens": Reed, theconi:
mandant :cf ‘the corps: 7:t0! investts |
ta: conditions: dn the} atlocted: zone} ae’
Afajor.\\ Thompson's report, ‘Secretary’ fe Nae noonths oft
Wainwricht stated this ‘atternoon. made iNidver nitty ‘Rdwerds of Ne Jerse ‘Is. to.) other, part:o Lthescour 5
i goubeful swhetber.ae Janke 8 farce ot | eacentaate: appoint’ h apertal counsel to] Ue Staumore than | aan eerie
i » Wer 1 U (a n La a BINS i
stovernor had. Tee piedt woud ibe ae lijveatigate’ the-conytellon for -first de-. vat: district.’ sald, thelr
sary, and:tonight: it want rs | y Ye las. a enpet 7,69: pe ml
eprinin® th oe wel id Af satuble, who.was executed in the [the nf ontha-endéd:
il ° ‘ + ‘ cchelr ‘sutsday night-at Trenton, |:
Swab Arthurs A, Hennings:
aa
4 nd
AVS ates eric he, testified
ia 200 Miles, while: for othet: trattic: ity
wh be leat Fae tt ‘eee |
: ; en f funds gave‘ou grainsa : :
pee should be xe Heniing, the convicted | ME”. Wettling id,* ds :recel cived |
is
ected: ne General Bandhélte wad, a6: s pay a ator ae a Cradles ‘Mine: efal nd gt in| 3 ffm mn
ant’ ‘PT pla ae fone? overtor .kxtward
CRU aia vitd front News Jeracy: officials alles<-
the cat C Jing that? ithe ridentification. of “Brandon.
aunt i Maven - Hf i 2 ii Jus:the- murderer, had> been accomplishes: B
‘bye nwitness,, 8 wworian -known as Pauls) ¢ aT declat 2. the
i {imi lio. nae Bren gchooied io she laden sarmera ou 0. aiet ‘from
on. Another * motive for’ theiny, with: the mare
yontigation-sdded: Henning, ' was: the: des other indusirics pence ned 3
ier
y of: return
y_ Airplane, butt) Hwan {ive of airs. Brandon that Charles Mra a Eigner sti Urine rosie.
e - 8 On TONY AN TO © ~~
places, tn® the’ weet tee Veith Brandon:-when. ‘the: murde aw atte Wettling ret alt Ea
Jeommitted, “be, punished, * Y
whe crime ‘for which: Brandon: ald the)
maps ‘committed in. August, °1018, ):
Nude Policemen: found
Mpodiea: ot tian Edith’ L. Janney and
here flarvé, Indward. Kupfer.’ ‘in-an: autos)
+ nioblie: natted: oth he A, bi hway leading | into}
4 Rahway, en shot aa they
Maton ‘ina trant net - For a tl the
inventigating: ‘authorities werd. ‘inable: Ao. f i 4 ey
‘tmake: progress, but ® lettor. from: Brané| ©’. of ed: Yeent rt pean
scone a pete ‘d in Auburn ‘prison for -# bur-'} oy nis. he would realize approxte
‘o evened, of d: them |: to. trace; Pere |e ety $13,000 ethan he ts: now
ahe dee ae Sta tata. Major regen | 3 rs Ba Saas Py in tt ‘gald the pomnaelt Oe
es or S LA etter tT a) .
Sal: Roed ofthe Fifth € han} but} e,would:-¢eellte
ides An: ‘elose-tonich : ‘witli t the. ‘West ‘Vire. “New d
infa\ situe Sion and: tt Saks th his, Jersey.
Barret ajor Tb 0; sired. “the tote!
“that che: had} foing to th ce gpl ce. bp attr
i uliy a Rotting to-a0e: Pik r 4) agate ne. Wrong pla ‘
thi ; They “comes,to; the ° ‘pullroada,; Who. aro
winoe, of evelopment scranaeh| Red a hl cand declared making | lean Anan @ Pe per neta gine ‘while Peon
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Reed ‘action: thus. far tak re for: ‘Randi NK: eh rr: eral ‘ ane
Wa t Departme mide bee t Mri 2 of r ea on ‘they 'a Oey tor freight oar rs
serene fe at’ atarmet cence: ‘and: tha inked. i} . ‘ pth
<.the ne rn. part the} he had done, L¢tters to: Aira. Yirandon'|¢ reas
ijn: numbers as ste written. At. thé eame time: were-dasued | Years, in the aor
‘per rie | in Jersey City by Le Fs eieaeee ne pane Lo deapite the
other. Ja €. who: gave hts servico: free
. ini the fig t Fes. ‘gave: Brandon from the
’ t chair. TTheac missives’:..charged <.
fi ‘ve. ced their]. franieop.” and recorded Brandon . nn
rocen Ng : } protesting , his innocence even to the laat,:
ich during: }2-Brandon‘s; execution . has: left.an: In- |
ave: deen:.the Ace ‘delible: stain-upon the reputation: of the}
= Dotereeiny: ; | State of. New Jeracy, ccording: tod Ary P
ho 1 HG ‘Hopkins of’ Morristawn Ny Jp Chalrs:
‘man of the’ Execullve Committes Of the: grat
< Cithzehs’, Union of New Jersey; who Inet’
‘night: made pudlic-nn open letter: heihns 643400
addressed. to’ Governor. Kdvard@... Mr.” J Sanding:
Hoptine;. who: has Jong. heen: Intererted |: Mr
“nn prison re forns srork. wrute;.th wtand: by
+ ernor in:part; aa followa:... » 2 ‘Avaistan
* ¥You;: by your: acts, or. failure lo & ‘Atehivon, :-T
n this ‘particular:case, have feft:a! who-held.that: ret
q.gelile, a ae Promuctr, ‘should
state of Now. Jaracy, (You may. rest: as: ent, pointing:
pured. thatthe men.and women ‘of yout” ‘don cost the
1 Btate will not let: Anis escape, thelr-attens|™ moudlties”: becauad.0f © » services
e cormer: orcas I dion #hovid: Ay ow" neal {BPpCar:s as which tho A day were compaled to! yon:
That: ind focal {.idaté Jor o Jeol fs LANE 8 ae *: Vase : ; with
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“Kerlow “whether. the: pee 1 polles. await the. atrival of: 8 armed
; othe
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ot ree nto he
ndred \ at he nad Nroutd ot
apf readiness: ial f Mer Min eron tho expect ; ins
orgs: the deputy, Aye herifts.w rough rok to: fet A oc many of the
ya Prosch h heen Doha ae ; Pranaported, 18
nie cont aprom : :
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sow ey yee s:
96 ELLIS PARKER
a horse with one blow of his fist. It stands to reason,
doesn’t it, that one man couldn’t beat him to death?”
“Scems likely. But what makes you say they must
have been after Hunter’s money, Ellis?”
“Why, look here, Washington Hunter was a Quaker
and never took a drink himself or got into a quarrel. If
a gang of fellows went to his house, they would only be
going there for one reason, that would be to rob him.”
I want you to notice that there's the second unnatural
thing in this case—Washington Hunter’s strength. He
was over seventy but he was famous for it. And right’
away, when I remembered that one unusual fact, I could
take a step in solving the crime. You see how it works?
Outside there were still a few flakes of snow falling,
but the blizzard had stopped and it was getting warmer.
When we got to the house I went right in to see Hunter.
He had been killed in his own kitchen but they had put
him on the bed and washed him up some.
“What time was he killed?” I asked.
“About half-past twelve or one.”
I turned to Dean. “Bring along that lantern,” I told {
him, ‘“‘and let’s get started.”
“Aint you going to look over the place?”
“Anything that’s in the house will keep. But it’s com-
ing on to thaw outside and if Hunter was killed as late
as that, the murderers probably left some footprints in
the snow, and tlicy aren’t going to stay. Unless I miss my
guess the blizzard stopped about the right time.”
There was a whole tangle of footprints in the drive and
down the roads and around the doors of the house. The
neighbors who had come for me had mixed things up so
TN ee
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN - 97
much I couldn’t tell what had been going on, but I
ploughed through the snow to a point about a hundred
yards out and started to swing a circle around the house
At the back there was a gully with a few trees in it, ee
the lantern showed a line of i I
e of footprints leading aw
the house. : ies at
“There you are,” said Dean.
“Thats one of the murderers, too,” I told him. “See
he’s running about as tight as he could go. Notice how
he prints of the toes are pressed way down into the snow.
: a a. s not a tall man, to judge from the length of his
“But you see there’s onl, one of them.”
“Yes,” I answered, “and there’s something wrong
about that. It isn’t natural. Look here, he rast ie
rane . a house by 'the drive because there are
ints leading away, but n ing
Now if he came by tie ca ier acw who a oie
But when he runs away he heads down this gully ts off
into the country. It looks as though he didn’t ow
. where he was going.”
; ave had been following: the line of tracks as I spoke
But that doesn’t make common sense,” protested cen:
The tracks were taking us out of town Sathward.
cutting around farm-buildings where they apprdached
them. It was heavy going, afd I could see where the man
we were following had slowed up, too. “I know it,” I salt
so we have to find an explanation that will ake Cris
mon sense. This is what I think. When the robbers came
to the house they had someone with them who knew
about Washington Hunter and the money he kept in the
2 oe em _ aa
OG
*ZO6T“QT-€ Uo ATTIOH qunoyy >
ye posuey “uyor FoNNOA Pue Tost *E *0°C ‘eit ‘AITO quo peBuey “soTeuD “nMDUR
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN
THE CUNNING MULATTO AND OTHER CASES OF ELLIS PARKER, ELLIS PARKER opened the door into the office where
AMERICAN DETECTIVE, Told by Fleté@her Pratts New Yorks}
h and Robert H 1935 his assistant was smoking a cigarette, lit a cigar himself,
Harrison Smith and Robert Haas, +
and called out:
“Clint, come in here a minute. Sit down, you're going
to learn something. I want you to listen to this, it may
come in handy for you to remember it some time.”
He turned round and sat down in the creaking swivel
chair that has served him through most of his forty-two
years as Burlington County detective.
7 “Never forget this, Clint. The thing you want to look
for in every case is something unnatv:val. There isn’t any
perfect crime because there isn’t any fool- -proof lie. Every
lie contains some unnatural detail. Now take that case
of that woman who murdered her husband. She had
her story all fixed up about the two ourglars who broke
into the house, and it was a good one, but she said that
when she heard something in the house she got out of
; bed and went to see what it was. Yo:. remember I asked
her whether her husband was sleepi-g next to the wall
; and she said no, she was. Well, right there there were
two unnatural things; it was unnatural for her to go
: herself instead of waking up her hiisband, and it was
unnatural if she could get out of th:t bed from behind
) = 7 him without waking him up, and if was on those two
slips that she was fiivaiby convicted,”
“But chief,” protested the young:r detective, “how
93
Ne
94 ELLIS PARKER
about that Hunter case? It seems to me that it was all
unnatural. What do you do in a case like that?”
Ellis Parker emitted a puff of smoke that wreathed his
head, and his face expanded into a smile that made him
resemble a barbered Santa Claus.
... Well, now that case did have a good many un-
usual features. That’s what made it so hard to solve, and
why I think it was onc of the best cases I ever handled.
But you have to learn how to use the unnatural things,
if you know what I mean. Maybe you don’t understand,
but you will when I explain.
I'll always remember that as the case that started four
hours before the crime, and with the most unnatural
thing of all. I might not have noticed it at that if my
attention hadn’t been called to it. You see, I was pretty
new at this business then. I had only been a detective for
about nine years.
I remember the night very well. It was in the early
spring of 1901, the year McKinley was shot and Teddy
Roosevelt became President of the United States. It was
in March, and I remember walking home through ‘a
snowstorm. There hadn’t been much doing that day, so
I took my time about dinner, and then lighted a pipe
and sat down to catch up on my reading. At about nine
o'clock there was a knock on my door. I opened it up;
and there was a friend of mine who lived quite a piece up
the road.
“Evening, Ellis,” he said, “Just stopped in a minute
to thaw out on my way home.”
He made regular trips to New York. “About four or
ie
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 95
five inches of snow we've got now,” I said, as he sat down.
“Are they catching it like this up in New York, too?”
“You know, that’s a funny thing, Ellis,” he said,
“When I left New York about half-past six there wasn’t
a sign of snow. The sun’s been shining all day and warm
as you please—regular spring weather. I didn’t begin to
hit snow till I got this side of Trenton.” :
We talked for a couple c! minutes and then he went
along. What I want you to : otice is that we usually have
the same kind of weather as New York, and that we
should have a blizzard whiie they had it warm was un:
natural. And right in that fact lay the key of the mystery
—only there wasn’t any mystery yet!
I didn’t know about the crime till four or five hours
later, when a sleigh drove up to the house and two men
caine running in to get me out of bed and tell me some-
one had killed Washington “unter over at Riverside.
“Shot?” I asked as I began to dress.
“No, he was beaten to death. Hands all cut to pieces.
Back busted and stabbed.”
_ I stopped dressing to give them a look. “Then his
house was robbed,” I said. “idow much did they get?”
“About three thousand dollars. That was a good guess,
I"llis; but you’re wrong about the ‘they.’ There was only
one of ’em. Mrs. Hunter saw him just going out the
door.”
“Then what Mrs. Hunter saw was the last one of a
gang. Look here, you know Washington Hunter as well
CA: ws ea SUES SW tate ana
ain a raw potato to a fine pulp
in his fingers and so have you, and he could knock down
>
Pe eee
ee ee ee ee ee ae
wher Fm gn se ae Aap eee BL
sete rage ri
he remembered them at
he said, ‘SYou punched
d I collected them. One
drunk.”
» any of them the next
milk train?”
vetter if I looked over the
of connect people with
ot down the tickets for
n of the milk train and
them over. I was pretty
t I wanted confirmation
- they had gone back to
denly he stopped.
he declared. “See these
ce the kind of tickets we
a passenger pays his fare
*y got on at Perkins with-
and paid their fare. But
ze tickets here—oh, now
ie of them, the drunk in
wasn’t with them when
as the answer. But all I
ions of three of the mur-
knowledge that one of
or Hunter, and I knew
ew York. I didn’t know
but I knew they were all
iat Hunter’s former em-
h a German accent. You
chings work out. Every
ion you get enables you
neone else till you have
who is the only one left
the guilty party.
o Mrs. Hunter with what
yur hired men spoke with
it?” I asked her.
two or three of them,”
- thinking it over. ‘There
rtmann, he got married
aucus to live. And there
causer and James Young.
hat became of them.”
icus to have them check
a, but I didn’t think they
thing wrong. A married.
ily may commit a crime,"
crime of sudden violence,
sbbery with a gang. My-
to New York and called
us of the Central Office
. whether he had any in-
James Young and Otto
se you remember Titus,
mnderful character, a sort
ue’s Gallery, with ‘the
-e of every crook in New
in his mind. Kohlhauser
, but Young was on his
iy the Slugger” and had
got a picture of him out;
almost exactly with Con-
yn’s description of the.
ed man with the heavy
making rather free with his money that
week. At the same time they picked up
two pals of his, Otto Keller and Charles
Braun, and when I saw them at the
Tombs I was sure I had the right parties,
for Braun had a mole on the side of his
neck, and Keller was a blonde fat-faced
lad with a little nose and a brown suit.
I didn’t have the fourth man yet, but he
would come in time. The next day I got
* Dennison and ‘Owen over in New York.
Both of them positively identified the
three as the passengers for Riverside on
the night of the murder.-I got out extra-
dition papers and took them back to
Jersey.
Right there I-ran into a snag. None of
them would talk. You see the difficulty
I was in; I could prove they were in
Riverside, but not that they had a thing
to do with the crime. Mrs. Hunter
couldn’t be positive about her identifica-
tion of any of them, and they wouldn’t
give me a chance to check up on stories.
Just kept mum.
“What are you going to do with
them?” asked Dean after one session.
“Make them. talk by hammering at
the unnatural detail. Do you remember
how they got away from the Hunter
house?”
“They just ran as fast as they could,
Young, Braun and the fourth man down
the road, and: Keller across the fields,”
Dean answered.
“That was the unnatural detail. Why
did Keller go across country? He wanted
to escape from the scene of the crime,
but so did they. The only possible reason
is that he also wanted to get away from
the other three.”
“But he joined them later in New
York.”
“True. Therefore, whatever the rea-
' American Detective
son was that drove him away from his
partners, it must have been cleared up
by the time he got back to New York.
Therefore it wasn’t something that
would keep them apart permanently, but
something he wanted to hide from them
temporarily. You might account for it
by saying that he had taken something
from the Hunter house that he wanted
to conceal from the rest, but we know
that they divided up the proceeds of the
robbery, because they were all together
and satisfied afterward. Therefore it
must have been something that had no
connection with the robbery itself, some-
thing that he had before the robbery, or
something that came up during it. Now
the only change in the status of the gang
that took place during the crime was
this—Keller was drunk on the train
coming down from New York, but they
were so long about the robbery that he
must have sobered up. It seems to me
that he must have had something on him
that he realized was dangerous but he
didn’t realize it till the whiskey began
to wear off.”
“But what could that be?” Dean
asked.
“I don’t know. But we have an indica-
tion I think. Keller talks like an educated
man. Do you notice the way he speaks
_English—very well, but with a queer
“accent and a lot of long words as though
he’d learned it in school. It wouldn’t
surprise me any to discover that he’s a
much more important person than the
tramp he seems. I’m going to get in touch
with the authorities at Washington and
see whether they have any information
on him.”
Well, sir, that was the break of the
case, Within a couple of weeks I had my
answer. The State Department reported
that Otto 5 a the son of the Mayor
63
of Stuttgart, one of the biggest cities ot
Germany, and a member of a noble fam-
ily, had come to this country three or
four months before and been lost sight
of. About the same time something else
developed. Keller had been given a pen-
cil and paper to amuse himself, and he
had been drawing, and one of the draw-
ings the jailer had picked up was a good
and very recognizable sketch of Wash-
ington Hunter. I had him: brought in
and laid the sketch on the desk.
“Otto,” I told him, “Do you see this
picture? That’s the man you murdered.
You’re involved in something mighty
serious. How would you like to have us
let the people back in Stuttgart know
about it so they could arrange your de-
fence?”
“Oh, my God,” he said, “don’t do that.
It wasn’t me, it was Young that killed
him. I didn’t have anything to do with
it. I didn’t even want to come with
them x
And then he told me the whole story.
It seems they got him drunk in a saloon
on the Bowery and took him along on
what he thought was a prank at first.
When he sobered up he realized what he
was in for, and was afraid they’d black-
mail his father back in Germany, so he
got away from the rest, to tear out the
labels on the inside of his suit. They had
the family coat of arms on them.
With Keller’s confession the rest was
easy. We convicted Young and Braun
and they were hanged, right out there
in the yard next to this building. The
fourth man was named Charles Mueller.
He had left the gang and gone to Chi-
cago, where he was killed in a bar-room
brawl before we could catch up with
him. But we never would have caught’
them if Washington Hunter hadn’t been
a left-sided. man.
_ The Monster afk Aiea
~”
sender of this wire is an educated man
accustomed to writing. This wire was
‘sent from 104th Street and it is reason-
able to deduct that the kidnapper lives
somewhere in that neighborhood.
Twenty-five detectives, every one that
could be spared from the department,
were sent post haste to that neighbor-
hood to ferret out the little old man with
the mild manners, that had walked out
of the Budd home on that Sunday with
the ten year old girl.
While all this was happening down at
Headquarters on Centre Street, Detec-
tive Dribben, at the Twentieth’ Street
Police Station was making a valuable dis-
covery in the home of the Budds.
It wasa pen, a cheap type in witch ane
RAataodh
A Wennnbe enn nn ae on Or
(Continued from page 11)
ing utensil that could have been pur-
‘chased at any one of the countless stores
in the five boroughs or from a peddler
on the street, but Dribben grabbed it
quickly, as a drowning man might grab
a straw,
On the bottom of this pan was
marked the price of the item in a rather
crude chalk mark. Detective Dribben
studied this mark and said: “This was
not bought in a store, because stores don’t
mark prices that way. It was bought
from a street peddler.”
With the description of the pan in
their minds, he sent twenty detectives
scurrying over the city, looking for a
kitchenware peddler that sold the pan
left in the Budd home.
CW UAREK “Reenat Cane tha cath weank
Cottage
dler was found who not only admitted
selling the pan the week before to an old
man, but showed the detectives that the
writing on the bottom of it was in his
own handwriting.
This established again the location of
the kidnapper in that locality. Captain
Ayers sent for Mrs. Delia Budd, the
mother of the missing. girl, and with
painstaking labor had her look at hun-
dreds of pictures, choosing from different
pictures, features that looked like the
man who posed as Mr. Howard in the
Budd home.
When all these features had been se-
lected by the mother, a composite pic-
ture of the kidnapper was made by the
police and prints taken from i it and given
ie | ont ’
SAN Od
y
a
of the holdups where a black Plymouth sedan had been,
used. In a holdup of a dry goods store in Boonton,
New Jersey, they found out that the holdup man had
come in and asked for a size 15 shirt. On getting the
shirt down from the shelf the clerk was confronted by
a pistol and told to empty the cash register. The size
15 shirt found on the front table of Friedman’s store
showed that apparently the same technique had been’
used by the men who had killed Julius Friedman.
A CHECK-UP on other previous stickups brought
out that the same methods had been used. AI-
ways it was a size 15 shirt that the stickup men asked
for. Indeed our efforts were being rewarded. Encour-
aging as this evidence was, we were still a long way
from finding who the actual slayers of Julius Fried-
man were.
While we were making these investigations six days
went by and then came a piece of news that gave us
encouragement. On April 12th two men held up a
gas station in Cedar Grove, New Jersey. They made
their escape in a black Plymouth sedan. From the
proprietor of the station we received an excellent de-
scription of the men. They were both in their early
twenties, one man was dark and tough looking. The
other was fair and wore eye-glasses and looked like a
college boy. At last we were getting some place. ‘The
description of the car and the men was immediately
flashed over the police teletype. It was plain to all of
us police officials that unless this gang, who were ter-
rifying the small shopkeepers all over the state, were
caught, more killings would undoubtedly ensue.
On April rsth came a report from North Arlington,
American Detective
New Jersey, which sent me post haste to that town. It .
appeared that on the night of the 15th, Officers Keane
and Harnett of the North Arlington police department
were patrolling along Van Ness Avenue in North Ar-
lington, riding in a police Ford, when a car passed them
traveling at a high rate of speed. The officers gave
chase and overhauled the car. It was a black Plymouth
sedan bearing the license plate P5930. Inside the car
were two young men and two young ladies. The man
driving was in his early twenties, fair complexioned,
wore eye-glasses and looked like a college boy. He had
a drivef’s license, but o registration. Officer. Keane
stood on the running board of the car and instructed
the driver to proceed to the North Arlington police
headquarters. Officer Harnett followed, driving the
police car. At the North Arlington police headquarters
Keane got off the Plymouth running board and told
the driver to pull up in an alley at the side of the
building. In the meantime Officer Harnett had parked
the police car directly in front of headquarters. One
side of the alley bordered on an open lawn. Suddenly
the driver of the black Plymouth sedan put the car
into first gear, spun the steering wheel, and mounting
the curb bordering the alley, drove over the lawn to
a side street. As the gears screamed in second speed
he drove away.
Officer Harnett backed the police Ford around and
gave chase, but due to the maze of roads in that sec-
tion, and not knowing which way the fugitive car
had gone, he was forced to give up the chase. The
black Plymouth sedan holdup men had vanished.
We knew that there was no direct linking evidence
between this black Plymouth sedan gang and the mur-
PE AEE EL
+ Ray
es
The black sedan. It was this slender clue that eventually led to the capture of
New Jersey’s elusive criminals.
4 go al re Be
Ato als cen si
mid ed et A LS.
bana se is P
derer of Ju
» them on t)
\ the size 15
had to wor
they were
Officer \
- out who st
» Plymouth s
-on April 1
the preside:
She said he:
town, New
employees
This looked
© leaving no :
~ cerned, so ]
F “see Chief o
- pointed out
AN
IZZa
d as Edward Merkle and
a from the neighboring
sey, pulled up in Cocke’s
core. Cocke parked the
. black Plymouth sedan,
rering rays of the light.
it of the car and walked
ian’s store they noticed
irked in front of
a at the left.
The clue of the black sedan
leads New Jersey detectives over
one of the most baffling murder
trails in the history of the At-
lantic seaboard— Until they
apprehend the killer of
Julius Friedman.
nothing amiss. Entering North’s Drug Store next to the
haberdashery the young men seated themselves at the soda
fountain and ordered strawberry sodas. In the store at the
time was James McGrath, a young man from Bloomfield,
and Joseph Gorney who was in charge of the store. Cocke
was just beginning to sip his soda when a sharp crash came
out of the dank darkness. Cocke jumped up and ran to the
door and looked out.
“I suppose I need a fog horn on my car,” he said. “Some
darn fool must have run into it.” He had hardly uttered
the remark when the still night was rent by a terrific scream.
It was not the high-pitched scream of a woman in hysterics,
nor the shrill cry of a child at play, but the full-throated
terrifying scream of a man in mortal agony. The young men
in the drug store and, in fact, every person in the whole
neighborhood were held horror-stricken. One of the per-
sons who heard the scream was Patrolman Robert Clark.
Clark, who lived over the stores at 417 Broad Street, was
just going to work. He was at the rear of the building get-
ting his car out-when he first heard the nerve-racking yells
and came running to the front of the stores. He arrived
_ there just in time to see Julius Friedman staggering forward
like a wounded grizzly bear, leaving a trail of blood be-
_ hind him on the sidewalk at every step. Clark saw Friedman
|. collapse into James McGrath’s outstretched arms.
' 6 Zi Bag shot,” Friedman gasped. .
; “We'll get you back into the store,” McGrath re-
_ plied. Going to McGrath’s assistance Officer Clark helped
» carry Julius Friedman into the store. Laying the wounded
-man on the floor Clark could see that Friedman’s life was
_ fast expiring.
“Who shot you?” Clark asked the dying man as he opened
Friedman’s collar, ripping the necktie off as he did so.
§ _ Julius Friedman made a game effort to reply, but the
» blood choked up in his throat, and an incoherent gurgle
was the only sound that he made.
“Get some smelling salts,” Clark ordered, addressing the
» little crowd of excited people who.had gathered at the en-
; trance to the store.
Joseph Gorney ran back to the drug store and procured
some smelling salts. Returning to the haberdashery he ad-
ministered the aromatics to Friedman. That poor man, how-
_ ever, was beyond mortal assistance. He died in Officer
» Clark’s arms without ever speaking a word as to the iden-
' tity -of his assailant. .’
I arrived on the scene at 8:15 o’clock and was greeted by
© Mountainside Hospital in Montclair, was still there. Dr.
_ Gullard injected adrenalin into the wounded man’s heart
»in an effort to revive him.. There was no response to the
§ Chief of Police Charles F. Jenson, of the Bloomfield ‘police -
department. Dr. Gullard, with the ambulance from the -
Detective Lieutenant Joseph Cocozza, who
gives AMERICAN DETECTIVE readers the au-
. thentic, inside story of this dramatic mur-
der case.
injection and Dr. Gullard pronounced Julius
Friedman dead. We ordered the store cleared of
spectators, and while waiting for the coroner to
arrive I took down the names of the witnesses
and tried to ascertain if anyone had actually seen
the slayers, or the direction in which they had
fled. In this quest we were entirely baffled, how-
ever. No one had seen Friedman shot nor was
there any sign of his assailant or assailants. As
Justin Cocke came out of North’s Drug Store
he remembered seeing a black car pull away from
the curb. On looking for the black Plymouth
sedan that had been parked in back of his car,
Cocke noticed that it was no longer there. Sev-
eral other witnesses had also seen the black car
pull away. This then was the car used by the
slayers, indeed a meager clue. The tail light had
been out and in the darkness and the fog it had
been impossible to read the license numbers.
There was nothing for us to do along this line
of inquiry. The black murder-car had completely
vanished into the dark night and the fog.
At nine o’clock First Assistant Medical Exam-
iner Brien arrived and ordered Friedman’s: body
removed to Kunz’s Morgue in Orange, New
Jersey.
The Bloomfield police department has four de-
tectives who, because of their unusual ability at
working together, are referred to by the local
press as “the four horsemen.” It was not long
before these ‘four horsemen”: Detective Thomas
Spatcher, Lieutenant Detective John Whelan,
Detectives Fred Hess and Fred England arrived.
Protected by a cordon of policemen, who kept.
the crowd back from in front of the store, we
[ 29
‘ae
Samuel Ruben, another intended victim of the phantom bandits,
Ruben is shown holding the knife he threw at the hold-up men.
ing over. The bullet had entered Friedman’s
chest, pierced his heart, and then taken a
downward course. Dr. Martland said that it
would have been easily possible for Friedman
to have been shot through the heart, in the
store, and then followed his assailant out of
the store into the street, as persons shot
through the heart frequently make several
movements before death. From this evidence
we reasoned that Friedman had been knocked
down and then shot through the heart by his
cowardly murderers as he attempted to regain
his feet. Mortally wounded, Friedman had
bravely chased his assassins to the sidewalk
where he collapsed in McGrath’s arms.
After receiving Dr. Martland’s report we
again questioned all the witnesses. Again it
was the same story. Although there were
many people in the vicinity at the time, there
was no one who had actually seen the slayers
or even seen them enter the murder car. It
was plain to all of us this case was going to
tax our ingenuity and resourcefulness to the
limit.
Joseph Miano of 378 Broad Street, Bloom-
field, told us that he had passed the store a
short while before the shooting, and had seen
three men talking to Friedman.
Marie McCormick was about to enter
North’s Drug Store when she heard Fried-
man scream. She turned and saw Friedman
tottering toward the black Plymouth sedan.
Alfred Ronner had also seen Friedman tot-
tering toward the car and then heard him
scream.
attempted to reconstruct the crime. An examination
of the store revealed the evidence of a considerable
struggle. A rack of suspenders and two racks of ties
were overturned on the floor. A heavy table in the
center of the store was out of place. On the floor was
a pair of eye-glasses and also a peculiar strip of paper
wadding. On one of the tables was a size 36 sweater
and a size 15 shirt. In the rear of the store, on a
counter, was a further pile of size 15 shirts. An ex-
amination of the cash register showed that it contained
sixty dollars. We had already searched Friedman’s pock-
ets and found forty dollars in them. From this evi-
dence we deduced that the slayer had come in as a
customer and asked for a size 15 shirt and a size 36
sweater. Later there had been a scuffle and Friedman
was shot.
Was the motive robbery? Hardly, when the money °
in Friedman’s pocket and in the cash register had not
been touched. The theory that the dead man might
have been the victim of gangland. killers immediately
presented itself, The thing that struck me, however,
was that of all the people that were in the vicinity at
the time not one had seen the shot fired or seen the
murderer get in his car. I decided to question Fried-
man’s relatives to find out who his possible enemies
might be. The same night Chief Medical Examiner.
Martland performed an autopsy at Kunz’s Morgue.
Dr. Martland said that Friedman was shot at a distance
of three or four feet, with a 38 calibre gun, and from
the course of the bullet Friedman was apparently lean-
Another witness was George Davis who
was about forty yards from the store when he first
heard Friedman scream, and ran up in time to see the
wounded man collapse into McGrath’s arms.
Later the next day Michael Zetwick came in to say
that at 7:30 the night before, he was driving toward
Paterson and as he passed Friedman’s store he was cut
off by a black Plymouth sedan that pulled away from
the curb at high speed. Zetwick chased this car for
over a-quarter of a mile, attempting to overtake it. He
gave up the chase when he was cut off, this time by a
truck. You can imagine our disappointment when
Zetwick said that he did not get the license number
of the Plymouth car, due to the fog and the fact that
the tail light was out.
Our best bet was the pair of eye-glasses; if the
slayer had dropped them in his haste it might be pos-
sible to trace him through the make of the glasses. An
inquiry showed, however, that the glasses belonged to
the murdered man.
An examination of the paper wadding found on the
floor of the store showed it to be a liner such as is used
inside a hat that is too big for the wearer, in order
to make the hat fit. Meager as this clue was, it was
the only really tangible thing left behind by the slayer.
Fingerprints were taken from the show cases and
from the table, but not a single print that could be
attributed to the slayer or slayers was found. I decided
that our best move was to investigate all of the dead
man’s friends and associates. Detective Spatcher of the
“four horsemen” was sent to interview the Friedman
family. If
or had been
be a lot easie
man lived v
Mrs. Abrah
at 404 Bro:
been involv
fact, very ;
neighborhoc
417A Broad
the locality
Friedman to
low as you’
Confront
indeed up a;
information
every detail.
Why should
you would e
Whelan ans
evening afte
tion. Chief |
tectives of «
attended the
“In my o
to hold Frie
resisted. In
Friedman an.
man, left wi
This seem:
the crime, bi
some of Julii
man had oft
» holdup man.
let had entered Friedman’s . -
heart, and then taken a
Dr. Martland said that it
asily possible for Friedman
through the heart, in the
llowed his assailant out of
ie street, as persons shot
: frequently make several
death. From this evidence
‘riedman had been knocked
ot through the heart by his
rs as he attempted to regain
y wounded, Friedman had
is assassins to the sidewalk
d in McGrath’s arms.
: Dr. Martland’s report we
all the witnesses. Again it
ory. Although there were
1e vicinity at the time, there
iad actually seen the slayers
a enter the murder car. It
f us this case was going to
-and resourcefulness to the
f£ 378 Broad Street, Bloom-
- he had passed the store a
: the shooting, and had seen
- to Friedman.
nick was about to enter
ore when she heard Fried-
- turned and saw Friedman
the black Plymouth sedan.
had also seen Friedman tot-
ie car and then heard him
ess was George Davis who
om the store when he first
id ran up in time to see the
to McGrath’s arms.
nael Zetwick came in to say
fore, he was driving toward
Friedman’s store he was cut
edan that pulled away from
Zetwick chased this car for
ttempting to overtake it. He
2 was cut off, this time by a
: our disappointment when
not get the license number
to the fog and the fact that
pair of eye-glasses; if the
in his haste it might be pos-
1 the make of the glasses. An
, that the glasses belonged to
paper wadding found on the
it to be a liner such as is used
sig for the wearer, in order
iger as this clue was, it was
ing left behind by the slayer.
n from the show cases and
a single print that could be
slayers was found. I decided
co investigate all of the dead
es. Detective Spatcher of the
it to interview the Friedman
The Fou
|' family. If Julius Friedman had any known enemies,
or had been irivolved in a love affair, our task might
be a lot easier. Detective Spatcher found out that Fried-
man lived with his brother-in-law ‘and sister, Mr. and
Mrs. Abraham Friedman, who ran a dry goods store
at 404 Broad Street. He was a bachelor, had never
been involved in any serious love affair, and was, in
fact, very much respected and very popular in the
neighborhood. He had run the haberdashery store at
417A Broad Street for five years, and was known in
the locality as a square shooter. As one man described
Friedman to Detective Spatcher, he was “‘as nice a fel-
low as you’d want to meet.”
Confronted by these facts we realized that we were
indeed up against a stone wall. We checked back this
information thoroughly and found it to be correct in
every detail. Friedman was respected and well liked.
Why should anyone want to kill “the nicest fellow
you would ever want to meet”? Detective Lieutenant
Whelan answered that question at a conference the
evening after the murder, at the Bloomfield police sta-
tion. Chief of Police Jensen, the “four horsemen” de-
tectives of our Bloomfield police department and I
attended the meeting.
“In my opinion,” Whelan said, “someone came in
to hold Friedman up. Friedman put up a fight and
resisted. In order to get away, the holdup men shot
Friedman and, in their excitement after shooting Fried-
man, left without taking any money.”
This seemed to be the only possible explanation of
the crime, but even it was refuted by the testimony of
some of Julius Friedman’s friends who said that Fried-
man had often remarked that he would never resist a
holdup man.
edan 31
However, the mute testimony of the overturned
tie- and suspender-racks showed that Friedman had
put up a struggle. This, together with the fact that
the man was well liked and had no known enemies,
convinced us that Julius Friedman had lost his life re-
sisting a holdup man. At this point in the case I must
admit that we were completely in the dark. There
were no Witnesses to the shooting or to the slayer. All
we knew was that immediately after the killing a black
Plymouth sedan had pulled away from the curb.
€)= only remaining course, then, was to attempt
to trace this black Plymouth automobile. Im-
possible as the task seemed, with the able assistance
of the ‘four horsemen” I went at it whole-heartedly.
Checking back with the license bureau in Trenton,
we began to interview all the owners of black Plymouth
sedans in all of Essex, Bergen and Passaic counties, a
stupendous task, but one that we went at untiringly
and thoroughly. Besides this line of inquiry, I decided
that we could check back on other holdups to see if
the same car had been used. Detective Spatcher checked
back the teletype reports on all holdups for the past
four months. To their amazement there was one out-
standing fact in a majority of the holdups. Although
the license plate numbers varied, and also the number
of the holdup men differed anywhere from one to
three, in a majority of the stickups the bandits had
made their getaway in a black Plymouth sedan. In
other words, a gang using a black Plymouth sedan or
black Plymouth sedans were actually staging a minor
crime wave in northern New Jersey.
Sure that now we were on the right track, Sergeant
Spatcher and Hess went out to interview the victims
The New Jersey license plate that played an important part in this thrilling true detective
story. How did the detectives link this. clue up with the killers?
back into the radio car and followed
the sedan.
In front of the headquarters build-.
ing the patrolman stepped off the run-
ning board.
“Back right into this driveway,” he
commanded. “Then get out, the whole
bunch of you.”
The next minute was an upsetting
one. Just as the officer stepped aside
to let the car into the driveway, the
driver jammed the gear into reverse
and shot the car back into the street.
Before the officers could get their car
rolling the sedan was off the block
like a streak of lightning. This time
the chase ended with the patrolmen
moe empty-handed and wrath-
ul.
One thing they did get—the sedan’s
plate numbers, P5930. The patrol-
men’s report instantly recalled the de-
scriptions and bulletins of the phantom
bandit, and Cocozza and the Bloom-
field police were immediately notified.
A telephone call to the Motor
Vehicle Bureau revealed that the
plates belonged to a Morristown com-
pany car, a Buick.
“Stolen plates, I’ll wager,” Cocozza
said. But he nevertheless drove to
Morristown, where he conferred with
Police Chief Fred Roff, while a state-
wide alarm was issued for the sedan
with the P5930 plates.
Chief Roff recalled that a month be-
fore he had received a report of the
company car’s plates having been
stolen. At about the time of the theft,
he said, a grocer had been robbed by
a young man who wore rimless glasses.
“But the grocer didn’t give that
young punk any money. He heaved a
meat ax at him instead,” Rolf said.
“He hit?”
“No, and the guy shot right back.
Lucky the bullet hit the wall in-
Stead.” —
Cocozza looked startled.
“The wall, eh? Has the bullet been
extracted?”
The chief said it had not.
“T'd like to see this grocer chap,”
Cocozza said. “If I can get that bullet,
I'll know once and for all whether the
phantom killed Julius Friedman.”
The grocer, whose store was on
Speedwell Avenue, was a small man,
frail looking, yet energetic and light
on his feet. He readily repeated the
story of his experience. His descrip-
tion of the marauder fit the phantom
in every known detail. He pointed
to the wall where the bullet had pene-
trated, leaving a clean round hole..
Cocozza saw at once that getting
the bullet was going to be a difficult
job. It would mean destroying the
entire wall. But the grocer was will-
ing to stand it.
Detectives were called in by Chief
Roff, and with Cocozza they tore the
wall bit by bit. For nearly twelve
hours the methodical attack went on.
Finally the bullet was reached. It
was a .38, a grey, battered slug.
That evening, in his weapon-lined
office, Cocozza placed the wall slug
and the bullet from Friedman’s body
under a comparison microscope. With
narrowed eyes, he studied the mark-
ngs, which, as he slowly made the
idjustment, blended into one another
so perfectly that they seemed like
one single marking.
All doubt was now dispelled. The
phantom bandit and Julius Fried-
man’s slayer were one and the same
person.
Again warnings were transmitted
over the police teletypes.
But even while these warnings were
FROM AUTHENTIC POLICE RECORDS
being issued the wily phantom was’
extending his drive of terror. The
night after Cocozza’s analysis of the
bullets the defiant marauder robbed
four stores, one after another in less
than an hour—and not far from
Bloomfield! ;
From that night on the robberies,
all by the phantom, continued steadi-
ly, first in one city or county, then
in another.
Shortly after midnight, on May 2nd,
a brief note was teletyped to Essex
County authorities by the Clifton
police. It was a routine note of a
conscientious patrolman’s observa-
tion, the kind of note that was coming
in day and night from all over the
state. It stated that Patrolman George
Schroeder had several times observed
a dark Plymouth sedan parked on a
block on his beat. The plate num-
bers, though, were 1E-11602.
The following morning Patrolman
Schroeder again saw the sedan parked
{|__|
| ALITY
a JEWELRY
i, ART ——¥
pet MINGUR
"Oh, well, since they insist."
in front of the same house on Getty
Street. Curious, he approached it
and tried the doors; they were locked.
He turned his flashlight against the
windows and peered in. There was
nothing inside to invite suspicion.
Schroeder decided to come into
Getty Street much earlier the next
sg and see what the driver looked
ike.
But the next night the car did not
appear at all. Nor did it appear the
following night, and_ reluctantly
Schroeder proceeded to forget about
it
[7 WAS close to 3 A. M., nights later,
when Patrolman Schroeder saun-
tered into Getty Street just in time
to see the familiar Plymouth sedan
pulling up. Quickly he concealed him-
self in the shadows of a hallway and
waited for the driver to get out. The
next moment his pulse quickened. It
was a young man wearing rimless
glasses who got out of the car and
hurried up the stairs.
Schroeder cautiously advanced
toward the car, and his very first
glance convinced him that he had
just seen the phantom bandit-killer.
For the plate numbers that he had
jotted down a week ago were no
longer the same. They were now
P5930!
Schroeder raced back to headquar-
ters and reported his discovery. De-
tectives Warren Marchione and John
Shackleton were ordered to go to the
Getty Street house with him.
The house was still enveloped in
darkness when the three officers ar-
rived. It was arranged on the way
that Marchione would stand guard at
the front door while Schroeder and
Shackleton went inside.
Several jabs at the bell caused a
light to go on somewhere on the first
floor and a minute later the door
opened slightly. Sight of the patrol-
man’s uniform caused the door to open
wider and reveal an elderly woman
in a bathrobe. .
Before she could speak Shackleton
showed his badge and said, “Your
son owns that sedan?” and he jerked
his head at the car at the curb.
“Yes—he does. Is... something the
matter?”
“Yes. We want to see him.”
“Oh, b-but he’s sleeping,” the wo-
man protested with motherly concern.
“Sorry. Which room is he in?”
“Upstairs—the attic room.”
Schroeder and Shackleton went on
up the stairs, unholstering their police
positives, while Marchione touched
the woman’s arm and gently suggested
that she remain downstairs.
Schroeder and Shackleton paused
at an upstairs door and caught the
sound of light snores. The detective
gently turned the knob and slowly
pushed the door, keeping himself out
of possible gun range.
The pair stepped into the darkened
room, their guns ready for instant
shooting and Schroeder’s flashlight
spotting the light switch.
The phantom bandit was asleep on _
his side. His glasses lay on the night
table beside two blue-steeled re-
volvers.
Shackleton shook the sleeping form
roughly and Schroeder snatched the
guns.
“Wake up, brother. You’re pinched.”
The youth awoke with a violent
start. He stared in astonishment at
the intruders.
“What’s the idea?” he demanded
reaching for his glasses. An ugly
look darkened his face when he saw
that his weapons were gone.
“You know what it is,” Shackleton
said. “Get up and dress.”
“What for? You guys have no right
to break in anywhere without a war-
rant.”
“Smart talk isn’t going to help you,
fella. You’re under arrest for robbery
—and murder.”
The youth’s face underwent a swift
change. Its cunning fled, leaving an
expression of plain fear.
“Why, you’re crazy!
anybody in my life.”
“Nor ever took anything that didn’t
belong to you,’ Shackleton said de-
risively. He nodded at the guns
Schroeder had seized. “I suppose you
used those things for cowboys and
Indians.”
The youth dressed slowly. His
handsome features were now sullen
and filled with hatred.
“You two Sherlocks are going to
find yourselves in a heap of trouble,
all right. You can’t go around pinning
murders on innocent people and get
away with it.”
Shackleton said significantly:
“You don’t mention robberies, Mis-
ter Phantom.”
“You're barking up the wrong
tree.”
“T don’t think so,” Shackleton said.
“Watch him, Schroeder. I’m going
to have a peek around.”
The youth started to protest, then
closed his mouth abruptly.
A low whistle soon came from
I never hurt
got along swell with everybody. No,
I can’t—” He suddenly broke off.
“Wait a minute! Do you think that
somebody came in here to rob the
store—a holdup, maybe?”
Cocozza and Whelan nodded. The
suggestion could in fact have been
exactly that. In all probability Julius
Friedman’s resistance had caused the
robber to fire and flee without any
chance of getting at the register.
Mr. Friedman’s face was now alive
with animation.
“Yes, yes, it must be that, a holdup.
I remember now, something suspi-
cious.” He touched Cocozza’s arm ex-
citedly. “While Julius was out eating,
I was alone in here, and a young chap,
a good-looking fellow, came in and
bought a tie. He took his time select-
ing one, and all the while he was
looking around in a funny way. For
a moment I was suspicious, but when
he paid for the tie and went out I
forgot all about it.”
“You know who the man is?” Jen-
sen queried.
“No, never saw him before.”
“Describe him, Mr. Friedman,” Co-
cozza said. -,
The description was that of a slen-
der, handsome blond youth who wore
rimless glasses, and whose age was
about 22. His appearance had im-
pressed Friedman that his customer
was a college student. “He just had
that kind of air about him,” he said.
‘Did you notice whether he had a
car outside?” Jensen said.
“No, I didn’t.”
Cocozza said, “Thanks, Mr. Fried-
man. I know it’s hard answering
questions, feeling the way you do. But
there’s just one more question for
the present.” He held up the wad of
paper. “This. Did either you or your
hrother drop this on the floor here?”
‘J didn’t, and I’d say Julius didn’t
ther,” Friedman answered. “You
see, just before I went out to eat my
_brother was sweeping the floor. He
wouldn’t leave that there.”
Cocozza thanked the haberdasher
and ended the interrogation.
Whelan, England, Hess and Spatcher
gathered together with Cocozza and
Jensen in a corner of the store and
reported what they had gathered.
Everything boiled down to a single
observation: A dark Plymouth sedan
with darkened tail light.
Fy SORE quitting the store the de-
tectives made a careful examina-
tion of the premises. Nothing else was
found, however, and the detectives
returned to headquarters.
“Rather a clean getaway,” a detec-
tive murmured reflectively. “Kind of
makes things a little tough.”
“Maybe,” Cocozza said dryly. “But
we've got a clue, a good one, too, I
think.” He produced the wad of
paper and fingered it studiously; then
he brought it to his nose and sniffed.
He turned the wad over to the de-
tectives who were watching him curi-
ously.
“Go ahead, look it over,” he said.
“It’s a good clue. Somebody is going
to lose his life because of it.”
The detectives handled the paper
wad carefully.
“Kind of damp,”
mented.
_ “Yes,” Cocozza said. “Now smell
it. Let’s see if we agree on the pur-
pose it served.”
The detectives sniffed at the
“Perspiration,”
gether.
RO NES ee
Whelan com-
aper.
they said all to-
AMAZING DETECTIVE CASES
said. “Perspiration it is. The purpose
of the wad is now pretty obvious. It
was used to reduce the size of a hat—
the murderer’s, no doubt. It must
have fallen out of the band during the
struggle.” . ;
“So we're after a killer with a hat
too big for his head,” England said.
‘Tt’]] be convicting evidence if he
doesn’t get wise and destroy the hat.”
Cocozza shrugged and tucked the
paper wad away in an envelope.
“That’s one of the chances we have
to take. Right now we've got to get
things rolling. Suppose we start by
letting Mr. Friedman scan the picture
files for that customer of his?”
Jensen assented, and Cocozza said,
“Then Ill get on over to the morgue
in the meantime. I’m anxious to get
the bullet.”
A telephone call to Chief Medical
Examiner Harrison FE. Martland
brought the famous pathologist to
Kunz's morgue in Bloomfield within
the hour. With his characteristic
smile and good humor, he waved away
Cocozza’s apologies for having re-
quested an immediate autopsy.
Two hours later he handed Cocozza
a shriveled, dark grey .38 calibre
slug. It had pierced the victim’s
chest and heart, Dr. Martland stated.
Cocozza hurried with the bullet to
his office at the courthouse in New-
ark. He placed it under a microscope
and checked it against recorded slugs
acquired from other recent shootings.
But there was no match.
He picked up the telephone and
called Chief Jensen.
“Any luck with Friedman on those
rogue pictures?” he queried.
Jensen’s voice was dispirited.
“None at all,” he said. ‘“He’s going
to Newark with one of the boys to
check the files there.” There was a
moment’s pause, then Jensen said
thoughtfully? “Joe, listen. Come on
over. I’ve been thinking about some-
thing, and I think it’ll put us on the
right track.”
Cocozza sped for the suburb at
once.
“Listen,” Jensen said when the de-
tective arrived. “The minute I heard
Friedman’s story about that customer
of his something began to tug my
memory. All over North Jersey, par-
ticularly in the Passaic and Bergen
County areas, there’ve been a series
of regular holdups by a lone bandit.
Every alarm that we ever got here had
an incomplete description of the ban-
dit—nothing beyond the fact that he’s
young, slender and wears glasses, and
that he made his getaway in a dark
sedan. Only two or three victims
recognized the car as a Plymouth.”
Jensen stopped and looked at the
detective.
“Well?” he said, and his tone re-
vealed how certain he now was of his
theory.
“TI think you’ve hit something,” Co-
cozza said. “Friedman’s customer fits
that description—what there is of it.
And the sedan, a Plymouth, is some-
thing, too. Until we learn otherwise,
we'll go on the assumption that the
phantom bandit is the man we want.”
Mr. Friedman’s check of the New-
ark files that night proved fruitless.
The following morning Cocozza,
with Whelan and England, went to
the Motor Vehicle Bureau at Trenton
and asked for permission to see the
registration records on Plymouth cars
in Essex, Passaic and Bergen counties.
Through thousands of records the
determined sleuths went in the hope
description of helpful _ significance.
It was a two days’ task, and it re-
sulted in complete failure.
‘Cocozza, however, refused to feel
any disappointment. He decided to
interview each of the phantom ban-
dit’s victims.
Systematically he and the detectives
drew up separate county lists of the
bandit’s victims. The total number of
his robberies in but two weeks was
startling. Sixty times the apparition-
like bandit had dared to defy the
aroused police; sixty times he had suc-
ceeded in his defiance!
Every place Cocozza visited the ac-
counts were the same:
“A classy dressed guy about 22.. :
“Got away in a dark Plymouth
sedan...” :
“Was blond and good-looking . . .”
“Sounded educated and wore
glasses...”
In each place the bandit had pro-
duced a revolver. Several victims,
who knew guns, described the weapon
as a .38 calibre positive.
Assembled together, the fragments
made a clear and unpleasant picture.
A good-looking youth, who had the
tone and stamp of education and
breeding, was terrorizing defenseless
small business merchants. Cocozza
was convinced that if the youth were
Friedman’s slayer he was now an ex~
treme menace, one with an aroused
lust to kill. His next homicidal attack
.was unpredictable.
New alarms and bulletins were is-
sued throughout the state, describing
and linking the phantom bandit to
the Bloomfield haberdashery murder.
SX days later, while Cocozza and
the Bloomfield detectives were
working on the meager facts at hand,
the bandit struck again. This time a
gas station in Cedar Grove, less than
a dozen miles from the scene of the
Friedman slaying.
Chief Jensen and Cocozza accepted
this latest display of daring as a chal-
lenge, a taunting gesture.
Three days later two North Arling-
ton radio patrolmen on night duty
saw an automobile streak past their
cruising car at extraordinary speed.
Sending the siren into a wail of warn-
ing, the officers gave chase. Down
main streets and avenues and into
narrow hidden neighborhoods the
pursuit went, the speedometer in the
police car rising dan erously. Pedes-
trians and other vehicles miraculously
escaped the mad chase.
The pursued car, a dark sedan,
turned crazily into a dead end street
and skidded to a screeching halt. The
police car a second later braked to a
sharp stop directly behind the fugitive
car.
A frightened looking girl and a
white-faced but scornful looking
youth were in the front seat, and in
the back seat were another couple,
whose faces wore tense scared ex-
pressions.
One of the officers bellowed angrily
at the driver:
“Your license and registration, wise
guy.” . .
Without a word, the driver put his
hand into his trouser pocket, then
withdrew it.
“I’m sorry; I must’ve left my wallet
home. They were in there.”
“Oh, yeah?” The faces of both offi-
cers were livid. . “Get your bus going,
brother. You’re going to headquar-
ters, the whole caboodle of you.” The
speaker planted himself on the sedan’s
gp Sane Sa tet a
running board while his partner got
said. “He had spectacle marks on
the bridge of his nose. There was a
struggle in here, and he had his
glasses knocked off just before he
was shot.” |
‘““Yes,’’ Jensen said, looking
around with a preoccupied air,
“there was a scuffle. Apparently
Friedman—” The sentence went
unfinished. Something at the leg
of a side counter caught Jensen’s
eye and he stepped over to pick
it up.
It was a strip of brown paper
about eight inches in length and
two inches in width, and it was
folded over several times so that it
was thick and pliable and had a
tendency to curve itself.
At this moment, while the officers
were examining. the wad curiously,
a young man, whose face was the
color of chalk, rushed into the store,
crying: .
“What’s happened? What’s hap-
pened to my brother?”
Behind the young man came
Whelan and the rest of the detectives.
Quietly and briefly, Jensen told
the man, who was the dead man’:
young (Continued on page, 51)
SERGEANT THOMAS
SPATCHER, Bloomfield De- |
tective Bureau, who was _
one of the crack “foure
horsemen" put on the case.
the bedroom. And she yelled to me,
‘Hit him! Hit him!’ Then she threw
her arms around him and held him,
or at least she tried to, but he was
strong and threw her off, and I saw
an empty beer bottle there, one of
_ those big beer bottles, and I hit him
on the head with it, and he fell back
on the bed.”
The sheriff surveyed the slender,
120-pound youth. Then he thought
of the sturdy frame of the slain Dan
and of his steel-like muscles hardened
by years of physical toil on the farm.
The very suggestion that Dan would
permit this boy to get close enough to
strike him with a bottle was beyond
the realm of all reason.
But again the sheriff did not call at-
tention to the apparent flaw. Instead,
he asked various other questions hav-
ing no relation to this particular facet
of the boy’s story, and then ap-
proached him again at an oblique
angle.
“What did you do after Dan fell on
the bed?” he inquired.
“I came in from the kitchen,” the
boy replied, “and helped Pearl carry
him upstairs.”
“Then who hit him while you were
out in the kitchen?”
“Why—why—I made a mistake. He
wasn’t in the bedroom when I hit him.
He was in the kitchen and he stag-
gered into the bedroom.”
“Oh, yes, I see,” the sheriff came
back. “And then what?”
“Well, Pearl took hold of his one
foot and I took hold of the other and
we dragged him up the steps. I told
you what happened up there.”
“No, you must have been mistaken
in what you told me before. You said
Dan was standing up when you shot
him. He must have been unconscious
when you dragged him up the stairs.”
“Yes,” the boy agreed, “we sat him
in the closet and then I shot him, and
the rest of it.”
The sheriff turned to the now
stricken-looking girl. “How about it,
Pearl?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “that’s the way it
was.”
Deputy Fitzpatrick interrupted,
called the sheriff outside. He had
found the missing pillow case wrapped
in a small bundle and stuffed under a
bush about 25 feet beyond the clear-
ing. The sheriff had him hold it
while he went back into the room.
“You're sure that’s the way it hap-
brother and business partner, what
had happened. For several moments
it seemed as though the explanation
had failed to penetrate the man’s com-
prehension. He stared at the Chief
as, though in a trance.
“My God, it can’t be! He can’t be
dead like that. He was all right,
nothing was the matter when I went
out for supper.”
Cocozza said sympathetically:
“But something did happen while
you were away. Somebody came in
and shot him. We need your help
now, Friedman. Think you can an-
swer a few questions?”
FROM AUTHENTIC POLICE RECORDS
pened, Pearl?” he asked again.
“Yes, that’s just the way.” |
“You’re lying!” Palas said with sud-
den sureness and both the boy and
girl jumped. “There were other
people here. You and Maynard
couldn’t possibly pull a heavy man
like Dan up the steps, the way you
say. And even if you could, his head,
which had been struck -with this
bottle, would bump against each stair
and leave a smear of blood. There’s
not a particle of blood downstairs,
either on the bed, on the floor, or on
the steps. But it’s all over the pillow-
case. Now,” he went on, in thunder-
ing tones, “who else was here?”
For the first time a really frightened
look came into the boy’s mild eyes.
“You won’t let him—hurt me—if I
¢ tell—will you?”
The sheriff put his arm around the
shivering youth. “Don’t you worry,”
he said. “Nobody’s going to hurt you,
I’ll see to that. Now who was it?”
“It was—Albert Cornwall.”
Transfixed with surprise, the police
officers could only stare at the white-
faced, fear-ridden boy. Albert Corn-
wall was the 40-year-old son-in-law
of Jim Hines’ wife. His name had
never even been mentioned in con-
nection with the case. He was a mild
and apparently inoffensive man who,
so far as the investigation had shown
to date, would have no interest what-
ever in doing away with Dan Shine.
But still the sheriff was not satisfied.
These three might have the strength
to carry a heavy man like Dan up a
narrow stairway. But he did not think
that any one of them would have the
intelligence either to think up a
suicide plot or to carry it out in the
way it had been done. The sheriff
turned over in his mind the mental
attributes of those who might in some
way profit by Dan Shine’s death.
There was one of these, he felt sure,
who was clever enough to conceive
and carry out a plan of this kind.
“Who else was here?” he inquired.
The boy looked appealingly at Pearl.
It was plain to see that he was com-
pletely under her domination. The
girl, again expressionless and appar-
ently indifferent, stared stonily back
at him. The sheriff took Maynard
out of the room.
“Now,” he asked,
other person?
Quaveringly the boy mentioned a
name. It was that of the one the
“who was the
THE HAT DIDN'T
sheriff suspected, the only one in any
way connected with the guilty group
who appeared to have sufficient men-
tality to plan a crime of this kind.
“It was Jim Hines,” he said.
“All right, Maynard, tell me about
it,”
“Well, he and Cornwall and Pearl
all jumped on Dan, and the men hit
him several times. Pearl told me
they had all planned to kill him in
a talk which they had at Jim’s house,
because Dan hadn’t been willing to
give Pearl his money, only his prop-
erty. I wasn’t there when they talked,
but Pearl told me all about it, said
they had decided it was the only way
she could get everything Dan owned.”
“Whose idea was it about the sui-
cide?”
“It was Mr. Hines’. They all carried
Mr. Shine upstairs and put him in the
closet, and then Mr. Hines and Corn-
wall arranged the string and every-
thing, and then they got me to fire
the shot after everything was ready.”
“All right, Maynard, thank you,”
the sheriff said absently. His mind
was busy. He was pondering on the
maleficent and callous savagery of
the crime; the hammered hardness of
the plotters planning to murder an
innocent old farmer on whose emo-
tions the girl had played by accentu-
ating the appeal of sex; the bride’s
endeavors to borrow money on his
property at the very moment when
his mutilated body lay like a sack of
meal in the closet where she and her
fellow-slayers had thrown it! It led
one to wonder whether there was any-
thing so abominable and degraded
* that people wouldn’t do it for money.
N Monday, July 6, 1936, Pearl
Shine pleaded guilty to murder
the Yirst-degree and was sentenced to
life in the prison at Rockwell City.
Cornwall and Jim Hines were found
guilty, the former being sentenced to
life and the latter to 99 years in the
penitentiary. ,
As to Maynard Lenox, there was
some douBt-as—to—whether or not
the blow from the _ beer bottle
had killed Dan Shine. If it had,
young Maynard had not actually
.committed murder, but had fired a
load of shot into the body of a
corpse. However, Lenox finally
pleaded guilty and was sentenced to
a term of 40 years in the State Prison
at Ford Madison.
FIT THE PUNK
(Continued from page 17)
“I... I guess so. What do you want
to ask me?”
“First of all, what time did you go
out for supper?”
“About 45 minutes ago, right after
Julius got back from his supper.”
“Was there anybody with your
brother when you left him?”
“No. There weren’t any customers,
or anybody else, when I left. Julius
was alone.”
“IT see. Do you know whether your
brother had any enemies who might
have done this?”
He shook his head. “No, he had no
enemies.”
“Any business trouble—competitors,
creditors ...?”
“No, no, no,” the man cried. “Noth-
ing at all like that. There just isn’t
any reason at all, I tell you.’
Cocozza said softly, “You’re prob-
ably right, Mr. Friedman. It was
mere chance that brought the mur-
derer here soon after you had gone
out.”
The haberdasher, shocked at the
tragic loss of his brother, said:
“T don’t know whether it was
chance or not, but I still say there’s
no reason in the world why anybody
would want to hurt my brother. He
omen: emer ee
Slaves BEN and JACK, burned for barn arson, Bergen County, NJ, on May 5, 17h1.
"In Bergen County, the records show (see Ne Jo Hist. Soc. Proceedings, May, 1871,
pe 179) that on May 1, 1741, Albert Yan Boor Hezen's negro man Jack, and Derrick
Van Horn's negro man Ben were arrested on suspicion of having set on, fire several
barns in the precinct of Hackensack; they were tried May 4, by five freeholders,
convicted and burnt at the stake on May 5, between 10 and 12 o'clockj at 'Yellow
Point, the other side oc Hackensack River,' near the house of Derrick Van Horn.
This summary procedure and barbarous punishment were authorized by the law of that
daye " ‘
DOCUMENTS RELATING TO THE COLONIAL HISTORY OF THE SATE OF NEW JERSEY, Edited by
| William Nelson; Volume XII; Paterson, NJ, 1895, page 99. Footnote.
"That delirium of tne New York people in 171, known as the 'Negro Conspiracy,'
appears to have spread to some extent into neighboring New Jersey also, Mro
Whitehead thinks that this panic caused many executions in Jew Jersey. Mn one
day seven barns were burned at Hackensakk; an eighth caught fire three times, but
fortunately was saved. It was beli@ved that these were set on fire by a combina=
tion of slaves, for one negro was taken in the act. The people of the |
neighborhood were greatly alarmed and kept under arms every night. Two negroes
charged with committing the crime were burned, (Ne Jo Archives, XII, 88, 91, X%
98). Mr. Hatfield quotes from the Account Book of the Justices and Freeholders of
Exx ex County the following items: 'June l, XXX 171... BAsZeIXNAEHAAHHARER Daniel
Harrison sent in his account of wood carted for burning two negroes.'...'Feb.
25, 1741 (or 42, unclear) Joseph Heden acct, for wood to burn the negroes Mr.
Farrand paid 0.7.0 Alhowed to Isaac Lyon (?) for a load of wood to burn the first
negro, 0.4.00! (Hatfield, HISTORY OF ELIZABETH, N. J., Page 364.) Mr. Whitehead
says that in 1772 'an insurrection was anticipated, but was prevented by precau-=
tionary qieasures,'"'
A HISTORY OF SLAVERY IN NEW JERSEY, by Cooley, pp 43-lili.
"In 171, two negroes were burnt for setting on fire several barns in the
neighborhood of Hackensack." A STUDY OF SLAVERY IN Nav JERSEY, by Cooley, pp 40-l1.
"eeeTwo more Negroes were burned ‘on the east side of the Hackensack River! near
the home of Dierach Van Horn, for arson (they burned seven barns)» The date of
these burnings was May ll, 171."
" HAN G BY THE NECK... " by Teeters and Hedbloms Springfield, Ill.: Charles C.
Thomas, Publisher, 1967.
—
re eles
a a aD eS
is
|
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——"
——
=e
ers Brkt tent
108 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF
that the said [unt sent the negro boy for the hatchet
wherewith he committed the murder.
John Hewett, sworn. ‘I'he said Hewett declared
that, one night, being upon the wateh of the said
neyroes and others, heard some discourse offered
between the said Hager and the said Hunt, and the
said Hunt said unto the said Hager, don’t you re-
member the poison that you proposed to put in your
master’s broth or milk ?
The negro boy Ben being brought to the bar, and
his accusation being read, pleaded not guilty. ‘The
prisoner at the bar confessed that he brought the
hatchet to Hunt, the person that committed the mur-
der, at the request of the said Hunt, just before the
murder was committed ; and that he heard his mas-
ter crying out when murdering, and that he knew,
when he brought the hatchet, the said Hunt intended
to kill his master.
The said justices, in conjunction with the free-
holders, found the said Hager guilty, and was con-
demned to be burnt.
The said justices, in conjunction with the free-
holders, found the said negro boy Ben guilty, and
was condemned to be hanged by the neck till dead,
and then hung up in gibbets.
The executions were at now called Claysville,
just out of Salem.
At a Court of Oyer and Terminer, held by ad-
journment May 21 and 27, present Isaac Sharp,
Richard Johnson, judges—Johnu Mason, Alexander
Grant, David Rumsey, Samuel Smith, justices.
The grand jury came into court, and presented
SALEM, IN WEST JERSEY. 109
John Hunt and Mary Williams for the murdering of
James Sherron. Proclamation made for silence.
John [unt being brought to the bar, and being
arraigned, pleaded guilty.
Mary Williams being brought to the bar and ar-
raigned, pleaded not guilty; puts herself upon the
country. The petty jury came into court, and
brought in Mary Williams not guilty. ‘The court
ordered the jury out again. ‘The prisoner brought
to the bar. ‘he petty jury came into court, and
brought in Mary Williams guilty of knowing of the
intended murder of James Sherron before it was
committed, and concealing of the same.
John Hunt being brought to the bar, his indictment
being read, he could show no cause why sentence of
death should not be past upon him; he had sentence
past by the judge. Mary Williams brought to the
bar and received sentence ; for the knowing and con-
cealing the intended death of Mr. Sherron, the court
fines her the sum of onc hundred pounds to his ma-
Jesty, and to remain in custody till paid.
Dec. Court, 1717. Ordered by the court, that
the garret or upper part of the jail be for the use of
a house of correction for the use of said county, and
a whipping post be erected therein.
John Kinsey, licensed to practise law, 1718.
September Quarter Sessions, 1718. Upon appli-
cation of Richard Johnson, that ‘Thomas Hill had
lodged in his hands, being a magistrate, a remnant
of silk, quantity 53 yards, which the said Thomas
secured with a certain person to him unknown, upon
suspicion of the said-person being a pirate, which
10
BERGMAN, August, ha
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CELO ART WORKS !237 Dept. 3-1
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“We can only hope,” Galatian
said earnestly, “that neither of
these sets was made by the vic-
tim.”
Back in the inspector's office they
found word awaiting them from
Perth Amboy. Aided by Chief
Burke, Galatian’s men had located
the clothier who had sold the -jack-
et, at his home. He readily identi-
fied the garment as one he had
made up especially for “a particu-
lar customer’—Arthur L. Kupfer,
superintendent of a Perth Amboy
cigar factory. The description of
Kupfer, 30, dark and handsome,
corresponded with that of the vic-
tim. ,
Visiting the waterfront building
where Kupfer had a three-room
apartment, Galatian’s men learned
from the other tenants that the
young factory boss had only one
close relative—his mother—who
‘lived on St. Nicholas Avenue in New
York City. The inspector immedi-
ately telephoned her, asking her to
come to Linden and view the vic-
tim’s remains to verify the identi-
fication.
cs at daybreak, while Mrs.
Kupfer was on her way to the
Linden morgue, the case took an-
other startling turn.
Still searching the area where the
car was discovered, the officers
came upon the shapely body of a
girl. Clad in a white linen suit,
streaked with blood, she lay face
down in a gully beside the road,
a mile nearer Linden than where
the auto was left. Gore from a bul-
let wound above her left ear matted
her long blonde hair, done up ina
bun at the back. Her large blue
eyes were {fixed in a sightless stare.
Even in death, she was ravishingly
pretty.
A man’s light tan cap lay beside
her, pierced on the left side by a
bullet hole. Leaving his companion
to stand guard over the corpse, the
officer sped to the nearest police
box and telephoned Inspector Gala-
tian.
Haggard from lack of sleep, the
inspector snapped alert at the news
of the second victim’s discovery. He
and Chief Carmody raced to the
scene, questions pounding in their
brains.
been that of the dead man, who
was hatless? Or did it belong to
one of the slayers?
Shortly the Union County medi-
cal examiner arrived and made a
cursory examination. “T'd say she
has been dead for about four
hours,” he declared. “That would
place the time of death at approx-
imately that of the man found op-
posite the reformatory. Apparently
the cause of death was the single
bullet which entered her skull
above the left ear and lodged in
the brain.”
‘The girl’s clothes were carefully
Whose cap was it? Could it have:
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48
examined by the detectives for
clues. But her garments, which
were intact, bore no labels nor any
indication -that some had been re-
moved.
Galatian ordered the body re-
moved to the morgue, where au-
topsies on both victims could be
performed later in the day. The
date was Thursday, August 2, 1918
Both the inspector and Chief
| Carmody still were without sleep
at 8 A.M., when Mrs. Kupfer ar-
rived to look at the features of the
dead man. Battling to hold back
the tears, the elderly woman was
led into the morgue, where an at-
tendant pulled back the sheet that
covered the victim's face.
“That’s my Arthur!” she shriek-
ed. “May the Lord have mercy!”
Carmody supported the woman,
near collapse, and led her sobbing
from the room.
At last the investigators were
certain of the man’s identity. But
who was the beautiful blonde?
As they were questioning friends
and associates of the young factory
superintendent, Galatian’s office
received a call from the state motor
vehicle bureau at Trenton. The
black touring car was registered in
Kupfer's own name!
Burke and the Perth Amboy in-
vestigators talked with several per-
sons who had known Kupfer.
Everyone spoke highly of the young
man, declaring him to be sober,
industrious and above reproach. He
was best known for the prominent
part he took in the activities of the
Elks. He had an interest in the
cigar factory which he superin-
tended.
At last the detectives located his
closest friend, Joseph Polkowitz,
who gave the first clue to the
blonde’s identity.
“Recently Arthur had been see-
ing a young woman of this city,”
the informant said. “It seemed
strange to me, for he often told me
he. never would marry so long as
his mother lived. He was devoted
to her and phoned her every day.
I don’t think he could have been
serious about this girl.”
“Who is she?” Burke demanded
eagerly.
“Edith Janny, cashier at the Ho-
tel Madison.”
The detective sped to the hotel,
where they learned that the strik-
ing blonde had not reported for
work that day. The manager had
assumed she was ill. Now he called
her home, and her widowed mother
reported tearfully that Edith had
not come home all night!
Burke and his men drove to the
Janny residence, a modest white
frame house, where they found the
mother hysterical with worry. At
the sight of the officers, she paled.
Burke told Mrs. Janny he feared
her daughter had met with an ac-
cident and asked her to go with
them to Linden.
On. the way
chief broke the ©
the mother for °
After a fit of
sufficiently to
Knowing what |
ny was outward!
she spoke quiet
What a pity!”
Galatian and
duty, conferred
other detective:
quarters.
“It’s obvious
and Arthur Ku}
night,” the in:
mother knew 5
but not with h
our inquiry on
into the activ
couple last ni:
background of
Galatian ret.
boy with Burk
the investigal:
. rest of the da
evening, they °
The late Edi
a@ young wom!
friends, most 0!
been high sch
was not difficu
tors to paint, |
quaintances, 3)
her character
A lover of pl
theless was
quiet, decent
Making furt!
Amboy, the in‘
light the fact
their deaths
Janny had b:
The others
Sampler and
who was a ~*"’
small dep
Amboy.
Sampler sai
in the latter
by appointme:
ing place at
P.M. They 2°
and danced !
popular orch
Arthur hac
blonde head
cheek to ch:
ure pressed 3
As ‘they dri!
the accomp
melodies, it
companions
in love.
Yet Arthu:
the warmth
and inhalec
a matter of
be lying co!
road.
After a <
roadhouse,
vestigators,
started bac
“We dro:
at her roo:
“Then Ku
to my ho
o'clock. 7’
.
REVEALING FACTS FROM POLICE FILES
On the way to the morgue, the
chief broke the vrim truth to steel
the mother for the ordeal to come.
After a fit of sobbing, she calmed
sufficiently to view the remains,
Knowing what to expect, Mrs. Jan-
ny was outwardly calm, but tense as
she spoke quietly. “That is Edith.
What a pity!”
Galatian and Carmody, back on
duty, conferred with Burke and the
other detectives at Linden head-
quarters.
“It’s obvious that Edith Janny
and Arthur Kupfer had a date last
night,” the inspector said. “Her
mother knew she was going out,
but not with him. We must press
our inquiry on two fronts now—
into the activities of the slain
couple last night, and into the
background of the girl.”
Galatian returned to Perth Am-
boy with Burke and took charge of
the investigation there. During the
rest of the day and far into the
evening, they worked steadily.
The late Edith Janny had been
a@ young woman with a great many
friends, most of them girls who had
been high school chums. Thus it
was not difficult for the investiga-
tors to paint, from the victim’s ac-
quaintances, an accurate picture of
her character and life.
A lover of pleasure, Edith never-
theless was strictly a home girl,
quiet, decent and _ well-respected.
Making further inquiries in Perth
Amboy, the investigators brought to
light the fact that on the eve of
their deaths Kupfer and Edith
Janny had been on a double date.
The others with them were Ivan
Sampler and Geraldine Harrison,
who was a saleswoman in Sampler’s
small department store in Perth
Amboy.
Sampler said that he and Kupfer,
in the latter's car, met the girls
by appointment in a roadside din-
ing place at Scidler’s Beach at 8
P.M. They ate a leisurely dinner
and danced to the soft music of a
popular orchestra.
Arthur had held Edith close, her
blonde head nestling against his,
cheek to cheek; her curvaceous fig-
ure pressed against his strong form.
As ‘they drifted over the floor to
‘the accompaniment of romantic
melodies, it was obvious to their
companions that they were deeply
in love.
Yet Arthur little knew, as he felt
the warmth of Edith’s young body
and inhaled her perfume, that in
a matter of hours they both would
be lying cold and dead on a lonely
road. .
After a couple of hours at the
roadhouse, Sampler told the in-
vestigators, the foursome left and
started back to Perth Amboy.
“We dropped Geraldine off first
at her rooming house,” he recalled.
“Then Kupfer and Edith drove me
to my home. That was about 11
o'clock. They didn’t come in, but
left together, his right arm around
Edith, who snuggled close to him
at the wheel. That was the last I
saw of them.”
HE detectives checked the story
carefully with roadhouse em-
ployes and neighbors of both Sam-
pler and Miss Harrison. Every de-
tail rang true. The two couples had
left the resort shortly after 10
o'clock; the saleswoman had been
seen to return home around 11, and
soon afterward, the store owner
himself.
Where, then, were the young su-
perintendent and his lovely blonde
companion from 11 o'clock until 2,
when the shots were fired? What
were they doing on the turnpike
in Linden, ten miles north of Perth
Amboy and in the opposite direc-
tion from the roadhouse? All inns
between the, seashore city and Lin-
den were checked, but the slain
couple had not visited any of them.
It was early next day when the
autopsy reports were returned to
Inspector Galatian. Kupfer had
been killed by a .32 calibre slug
which had entered his chest high
above the heart and had taken a
downward course into that organ.
Edith Janny had died of a similar
slug in her brain. Powder burns
ringed each wound. The shots had
been fired from close range.
The detectives, reconstructing the
shooting, reasoned that the killer
sat in the rear seat of the car and
held the gun close to Kupfer, at
the wheel, and then to Edith Jan-
ny’s head. Since the shots appar-
ently were fired after the car had
stopped, the slayers would not fear
that Kupfer would lose control and
wreck the machine. The girl had
not been criminally assaulted.
Checking with the relatives of
the victims, the detectives learned
that Kupfer had worn a $600 dia-
mond ring and was in the habit of
carrying large sums of money in
his wallet, while Miss Janny had
ona small diamond ring. All were
missing. Could the motive, after all,
have been robbery? Or were the
valuables stolen merely to make the
crime look like robbery?
The bullet-pierced cap which
Edith Janny had been wearing was
identified as Kupfer’s. The powder-
puff obviously was hers. Now, the
only clues left were the slugs re-
moved from the two bodies, and
the two sets of fingerprints found
on the murder car.
The bullets were turned over to
ballistics experts for examination,
and microphotographs of _ their
markings were placed on record.
The fingerprints were copied and
.sent to New Jersey state authori-
ties, and to the New York City Po-
lice Department. But they checked
with no prints of known criminals
in any of these files.
During the months that follow-
ed, the investigators occupied
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49
themselves with other duties and
more pressing, cases, bul they stub-
bornly refused to drop the Kupfer-
Janny murders as unsolved.
Another year passed, and then
on the late afternoon of December
12, 1919, a willowy brunette of 17
named Dorothy Warner and a
husky, red-haired man of 29 named
George Brandon walked down a
corridor of the ancient borough hall
in Brooklyn and presented them-
selves before the marriage license
clerk. They were accompanied by
a dark-haired young man who gave
his name as Peter Higgins.
Brandon and Miss Warner were
married in a civil ceremony, at
which Higgins acted as the wit-
ness. The happy trio departed to
celebrate.
But back at Dorothy’s home in
8ist Street in Manhattan’s York-
ville section, New York City Detec-
tives William Smith, Frank Gross-
man and Peter Skelly were ques-
tioning her mother.
“Why, my daughter ts being, mar
ried in Brooklyn this afternoon,”
explained the puzzled Mrs. War-
ner. “Is—is she in some trouble?”
The detectives were waiting in-
side the door when the boisterous
wedding party entered. “Put ’em
up—fast!" barked Smith, and the
trio quickly complied.
The two men glowered and the
girl burst into tears as the officers
searched them. In the coat pockets
of each man they found a .32 cali-
bre revolver. The girl was unarmed.
“Now we'll tell you why we want-
ed your daughter,” Smith explain-
ed to Mrs. Warner. “She's the girl
who got away with four diamond
rings ten days ago in that robbery
at Armin Hollinger’s jewelry store
on Third Avenue, just around the
corner.”
The detective did not disclose
that Dorothy Warner had been
traced by 2 methodical canvass of
the neighborhood, aided by an ac-
curate description of her given by
the jeweler. The girl had entered
the store on December 4 and asked
to be shown some rings. She took
four diamonds, valued at $2,100,
to the front, saying she wanted to
examine them by daylight. Sudden-
ly the door was flung open by a
dark-haired man. The girl dashed
outside and sprang into a waiting
car, followed by her companion. A
third man—a redhead—was at the
wheel, and the auto sped away.
Hollinger, the jeweler, and his
clerk rushed out and fired several
shots at the fleeing machine. All
went wild.
Brandon, his bride and Higgins
all were led before the robbery vic-
tims and were identified. Taken to
the stationhouse and booked on
charges of armed robbery, the three
denied their guilt. But under ques-
tioning, Dorothy broke down and
confesse..
50
_—
REVEALING DETECTIVE CASES
Dorothy Warner turned state’s
evidence and was placed on proba-
tion. Her husband and Higgins were
sentenced to ten years each, the
former in Auburn and the latter in
Sing Sing. Their 32 calibre revolv-
ers were impounded as evidence,
and the pair were duly fingerprint-
ed and their prints filed with the.
State Department of Correction at
Albany.
Meanwhile, over in New Jersey,
Inspector Galatian still doggedly
sought to break the Kupfer-Janny
case. “Somewhere,” he told Chief
Carmody, during an informal con-
ference early in 1920, “the Aillers
of that couple will make a slip.
We've eliminated all motives but
that of robbery. Any pair of crooks
desperate enough to murder two
innocent victims and toss them out
of a motor car must be hardened
thugs. They’ll strike again, possi-
bly with the same weapon OF wea-
pons, or perhaps they'll leave their
prints behind. Then we'll have
‘om.”
Burdened as he was by current
cases, Galatian had made it a prac-
tice nevertheless to check regularly
with the fingerprint files of sur-
rounding states on the chance that
somehow the killers had become
enmeshed in the toils of the law.
But pressed for time, the inspec-
tor could make these checks only
at fairly long intervals.
This was why it was not until
July, 1920, that Galatian got around
to checking again with the files of
the New York Department of Cor-
rection at Albany. Brandon and
Higgins had gone to prison two
months before. The inspector was
electrified to learn that the prints
of the pair matched exactly those
found on the car in which Edith
Janny and Arthur Kupfer were
slain two years earlier!
Galatian speedily sent for the
two .32 calibre revolvers found on
the men at the time of their arrest
in the gem robbery. Ballistics ex-
perts established beyond all doubt
that both lethal bullets had come
from the same gun-—the revolver
found in Brandon's pocket!
T., inspector and Carmody
rushed to Albany and then to
Auburn to question the suspected
killers. Grilled for hours, Brandon
steadfastly denied any connection
with the murders. But Higgins, af-
ter a few hours, cracked complete-
ly.
“We done the job, all right,” he
said. “But it was Brandon who
fired the gun. I didn’t want no part
of it.”
Higgins confessed that on the
night of the crime, he and Brandon
were standing on the corner of
State and High Streets in Perth
Amboy, looking for a victim to rob.
Shortly after 1 A.M., a black tour-
ing car stopped for a traffic sign.
Kupfer was at the.wheel and Edith
Janny sat beside him.
“We walked over and asked the
guy if he would give us a lift to the
station to catch the train for New
York,” the prisoner said. “He told
us ‘Sure, hop in.’ We got into the
back seat and he drove off. A couple
of blocks down the street, Brandon
pushes his gun into this guy’s back,
while I do the same with the girl.
‘Listen, blondie—not a peep outa
you, or I blast you to blazes!’ Bran-
don says. I tell the dame the same
thing. ‘Get goin’,” says Brandon.
‘Get outa town.’ The twist starts
to ery, but I slap her cheek and she
stops.”
They drove around for 15 minutes
until they reached the outskirts of
the city, but Brandon thought it
unsafe to rob the pair so near to
town. So they forced Kupfer to
drive north. Before long they were
in Linden, opposite the reforma-
tory. All the way, Higgins had urg-
ed robbing the couple, but Brandon
thought it unsafe. “T told Brandon
we were getting Into Rahway and
it was now or never,” he continued.
“He told this Kupfer to stop the
car. I thought we was gonna grab
this ice, put ‘em outa the car and
scram. But Brandon goes nuts. First
thing I know, after we get the rings
and dough, he plugs the guy and
then the gal. I was scared so 1
helped him put the guy’s body out.
We'd stayed there too long, so we
drove down the road before getting
rid .of the dame.”
Brandon, advised of Higgins’ con-
fession, admitted taking part in the
crime but accused Higgins of firing
the fatal shots. But the ballistics
evidence showed that Higgins was
telling the truth.
Justice moved swiftly. Governor
Alfred E. Smith of New York com-
muted the robbery sentences of the
pair so they could be returned to
New Jersey to face the murder
charges. Both were indicted by the
Union County grand jury) on
charges of first degree murder. At
the trial in Elizabeth before Judge
Charles Bergen and a jury, Hig-
gins turned state’s evidence and
testified against his accomplice.
On October 3, 1920, George Bran-
don was convicted of first degree
murder and sentenced to die. Hig-
gins pleaded guilty to manslaugh-
ter and was sentenced to four years
at hard labor. But because of ap-
peals and legal delays, it was two
years before Brandon was put to
death in the electric chair.
Note: The name Dorothy Warner,
as used in the foregoing story, is
not real but fictitious to protect
an innocent person. The name
Peter Higgins also is fictitious be-
cause this man has paid his debt
to society and since has gone
straight.
Sata
+ te oe ay nee oe
— ~ oo
102 ELLIS PARKER
“A left-sided man?”
“Yes. There have been several doctors up here from
the medical colleges to examine him. All the organs in
his body are transposed. His heart was on the right side
instead of the left, his liver was on the left side instead
- of the right. And the man who murdered Washington
Hunter knew that and reached across his body to where
he could drive that chisel for his heart—way over on the
wrong side of his body.”
“What good does it do us?”
“Every unnatural fact isa help. Now I’ve known Wash-
ington Hunter for some time. He was proud of his
strength, but he was sensitive about being thought a
freak, and he kept the fact of his being a left-sided man
more or less a secret. We can divide the people that knew
about it up into three classes. The first are a few intimate
friends of his, and I think we can eliminate them from
consideration as murderers, because they're all old men
and Quakers like Hunter himself, and I can’t picture
any of those Quaker farmers leading a gang of despera-
does to rob old Hunter. The second class is composed of
the medical men who have looked at him, but they are
few in number, and doubly unpromising as suspects not
only because they are physicians in good standing, but
because the circumstances of the crime show the robbers.
were led by someone who knows that Hunter keeps
moncy in the house. The third class corresponds in both
particulars; it is composed of the hired men Hunter has
had on the place at various times, especially some hired
man who would have been here when one of the doctors
came.”
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 103
After breakfast we went back to the Hunter place and
from Mrs. Hunter I got a list of all the hired men she
could remember. Dean went to work checking the local
hardware stores for the purchase of the chisel, and I put
another man on the trail of the fellow who had boarded
the down freight at Atco. The chisel clue petered out, as
I expected it would; none of the local stores could re-
member having sold it. As for the man on the freight
train, a brakeman had chased him off the cars in Cam-
den. He gave me a rough description of the man, no
overcoat, stocky, with a round face and blonde hair, that
might cover Mrs. Hunter’s description.
“How do you know he had blo:de hair?” I asked,
when the brakeman was brought in. %
“Didn’t have no hat on, boss.” That hat again! I began
to feel that was the clue that would lead us to the mur-
derer. The brakeman added that tie blonde man had
been limping slightly when he got off in Camden. ~
Mrs. Hunter’s list consisted mostly of local men. I had
them all rounded up and invited them to explain where
they were on the night of the crime. in two cases I didn’t
get good explanations. One of theri was a young man
named Sherman. He lived over at Palmyra, but wasn’t
home when my man called, and when I made inquiries,
I found he was in a hospital in Philadelphia with a gun-
shot wound in one leg. Fhat looked good. I went to Philly
and the hospital at once, but young Sherman said he got
the wound hunting, the day before the crime, and not
only said it but proved it, so he was eliminated.
The other man who didn’t have a straight story was
named John Keough. He had been involved in several
enna =
a ee
98 ELLIS PARKER
house, but when they got the money and killed the old
man, they split up. The leader of the gang went down
the road. This man we're following doesn’t know the
country. Look here, the railroad is only five hundred
yards away here, over behind those trees, but he goes
running right away from it.”
We followed the tracks through the night for four or
five miles, and every step we took showed that the man
we were after didn’t know where he was. It was slow work,
because he did a lot of twisting and once he followed a
road for a short distance, but he always cut off across the
fields again soon. Finally, however, he did chance on the
railroad track, near the junction at Atco, where there is
a watch-tower and a water tank and pretty soon after that
the tracks ended right by the side of the railroad track.
I went up to see the watchman on duty in the tower
and tqld him who I was. It was beginning to get light by
that time.
“Did you see anyone around here during the night?”
I asked. :
“Soems to me I did, about two o’clock or so,” he said.
“Kind of a tramp-like feller, didn’t have any overcoat.
Probably hopped one of the trains.”
-“What trains go through here about that time?”
“Well, at two-fifteen there was an up night freight for
Camden; then there wasn’t anything till a train-load of
empties came down toward Atlantic City at three-seven.”
That settled that part of the question. Our man must
have hopped the Camden train. ‘There wasn’t any place
for him to hang around Atco for an hour and besides his
footprints stopped short, he couldn’t have waited long
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Cie
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 99
«fore catching the train. Why he must have been getting
‘ga itabout the time they were pulling me out of bed! It
war weeks before I got that close on the trail again.
man at Atco drove me back to the Hunter place in
bis cutter. I went into the kitchen and looked around. It
ad been tidied up some and most of the clues, if there
hed been any, were gone by that time. In one corner of
the room I did find a chisel, an ordinary carpenter’s chisel,
Hl covered with blood. There was a mark on the window-
kstec, and when I tried the chisel on it, it fitted. That
was how the robbers must have gained «dmission. I could
txunstruct that part of it easily; one getting in by the
stidow, then unlocking the door for the other one or
twa Of course, fingerprints had never been heard of at
thst date, so the chisel wasn’t examined for them.
After the chisel I took another look around and behirid
ve stove I found a hat. It was a new spring hat, not at
#i the sort of thing Washington H-nter would have
wan, and much stepped on. It certainly didn’t look
situral in that Quaker kitchen. I took it in to Mrs. Hun-
wt, who had been under the doctor’s care, and was able
ts we me by this time.
“Is this your husband’s hat?” I asked her.
“Nu,” she said decisively, “I never saw it before, and
# would not fit Washington, I don’t think.”
Pasked her about the sequence of events.
“Washington must have heard the man downstairs and
gsc down,” she said. “He didn’t wake me gctting out
bel. The first thing I heard was the sound of a struggle
sd the most fearful cursing down there in the kitchen.
Hyat my wrap around me and went down, but just as I
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100 ELLIS PARKER
got to the foot of the stairs there was a crash and IJ arrived
just in time to see the man going out the door. Washing-
ton was on his face on the floor, all covered with blood.”
“You only saw one man. What did he look like?”
“T couldn’t tell very well. He was rather stocky and
heavy-built and IJ think his hair was light brown. He had
a mask half across his face.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. I don’t think I ever saw him before.”
“How was he dressed?”
“In just a suit. He didn’t have any overcoat.”
I didn’t realize the importance of that at the time.
“That would be the man we trailed through the snow,” I
said. “What kind of a suit was it?”
“I couldn’t see very well. The light wasn’t good. Wash-
ington had gone down with the night lantern and it was
on the floor and I carried a lamp, but the light of it was
right’in my eyes, so I couldn’t see clearly.”
That was not so good. It might have been someone she
knew, but between the mask and the bad light she had.
not recognized him. But it was all she could tell me.
_ By this time it was day, so I went out to have a little”
breakfast and while I was eating it, read over the medical
report on Hunter, which the doctor had gotten ready. It
listed the wounds and even had a diagram showing where
they were. He had been frightfully beaten and smashed,
with twenty or thirty heavy blows on the head and back
with blunt instruments. As near as the doctor could make
out, one of them had been an iron bar and another a
gun-butt. In addition, the old man’s hands had becn
almost severed by ferocious blows with the blade of the
*
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 101
chisel, and there were two deep stab wounds from the
same implement on his right side. When I came to that
item I whistled.
“What's the matter?” asked Dean, who was eating
with me.
“The man who led that gang, not only knew the neigh-
borhood, but knew Hunter intimately,” I said. “See, you
can reconstruct the crime from what we have already.
The old man comes in to find them in his kitchen; he °
grabs the man with the chisel in that terrible grip of his,
which could crush potatoes. The other two—I think there
were at least three of them, because he was beaten with
two instruments—began pounding him with the iron bar
and gun-butt; the man with the chisel hacked at Hunter’s
hands and finally gave him those stab wounds.”
“Well, how does that make him know Hunter?”
“You forget that the stab-wounds are on Hunter’s
tight side. He is facing the criminal. It would be per-
fectly easy and natural for the murderer to stab him in
the left side, but unless he were left-handed, he would
have to reach clear across his body to stab the old man
in the right side.”
“Then he was left-handed.”
“But he wasn’t. Look at this diagram. All the other
chiscl-blows are on the arms and wrists. You can see from
the slant of them that they came from the murderer’s
tight; he held the chisel in his right hand; therefore he
Was right-handed. There is oniy one reason why the
murderer should reach clear across to strike Hunter in
the right side, and that is something that very few people
know. Washington Hunter was a left-sided man.”
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BELL, Christiana, white, hanged Gloucester, NJ, circa 1721.
Christiana Bell, white, was a resident of Gloucester, New Jersey. In 1704 she received
was sentenced to death for infanticide by a Special Court presided over by Viscount Lord
Cornbury, Governor of New York and New Jersey. However, she received a pardon at the
intercession of Quaker activists. Seventeen years later she committed the same offense for
this latest murder she was condemned and hanged.
afe fe ek ae 2h ie ae he ae as fee he as ohe safe ale 29s ae af ae fe afc aft oft hc 3h fe 2c 9k ie he aie fe ahs 3c he ofc ate afc ae ofc fe ah ake ake ke aie ake aie ae rhe he is aie ake she ie oie fe ae ake 2 2c as 2c a at ie ae 2k ake is
“We the Grand Jury of the County of Gloucester dor order 18 pence to buy 12 bushels
of charcoal for the prisoner and 2-2-0 to buy three match-coats for the prisoner’s use so long as
she hath occasion for it and then to be reserved for the county’s use. We allow 0-7-6 to the clerk
for five warrants to the collector to gathjer the above tax. We further allow Matthew Metcalf
0-12-6 for defraying the Lord Cornbury’s retinue’s expenses when he was lately at Gloucester
and six shillings to John Siddon for a coffin for the murdered child and six shillings more to allow
him by discount of his old tax in 1694 for the bring the Justice and Coroner to Gloucester. We
also allow 8-12-4 for defraying the Lord Cornbury’s and his attendances’ expenses when he was
lately at Gloucester.”-Gloucester Freeholders Minutes, December 18, 1704.
Oe HE fe He ee fe OAR fe fe of ae He ahs fe ae aie fe ae fe ie IE ais ae he fe fe Ae Oe ie OR ie Fe He Ye HE Oe he fs eR Oe Tie He A AK He Ie Hee 2c Oe he 2k He oie fee aie eee Oe Os a he as He as Hs 3k se Oe he
Even though this account of her original conviction does not name the accused, this
anonymity is lifed by the following entry in the 1721 Minutes Book of the New Jersey Supreme
Court after shehad been indicted for the murder of another child: “5-2-1721-Richard Bull testified
that he believes the prisoner to be the woman condemned for the murder of her own child in
Gloucester County about sixteen years ago. Seven other witnesses attest to the same. William
Hampton testifieth that he lived in the same house with her for three years and knew her to be the
same woman.”
CeCe CCC CL CCCSCT CLC TOCTCLCCOC CSCC LCCC CT OCIS LST TCLS CPPCC LE Pee PSST CPST Peer Pe ees S|
Her request to the Supreme Court for a change of venue was denied and she was returned
to Gloucester for trial. A Special Commission of Oyer & Terminer was issuyed . She was tried,
convicted and executed is proven by the following entry in the Minutes of the Gloucester County
Board of Freeholders, November 21, 1721: “Item to Joseph Kay, Sheriff, for the execution of
Christana Bell, alias Logan, and other fees: 9-8-0.”
2c sik oe is 2h ae fe ae as 2 2K ke so 2k a as fe 2K He 2k fe oie oe ie OK 2 9 fe Of he ok oe fe ee se ae fe as Heo he oe He oe fe oe He ae He fe Ae Ae At Oe he he Oe ie OE 2 2K OK 2K as 2 oe Oe oh OK OK
The execution took place, some time before May 2 and November 21, 1721. It is likely
that it took place in May but we do not have actual confirmation until the Minutes allow
compensation to the sheriff.
Kurt’s room was at the head of the stairs.
There was a large hole in the plaster of the
wall next to the door. The officers looked
through this hole in the wall at the sleeping
man, and the sight they saw caused them
to silently move away from the opening
and draw their guns. Kurt Barth was sleep-
ing in a narrow bed and on the floor next to
the bed lay two sinister looking revolvers.
If Barth rolled out of bed these weapons
would be in immediate reach. Silently turn-'
ing the «doorknob Detective. Shackleton:
tried to open the door leading into Kurt
Barth’s room. The door was locked. Step-
ping back and covering the door with his
gun, Shackleton called out:
“Kurt, oh, Kurt, open the door.”
There was a movement from inside the
room. Officer Schroeder covered the hole in
the wall with his gun. :
“Open the door, Kurt,” Shackleton re-
peated.
In a moment the door swung open and
the sleepy-eyed Kurt Barth looked directly
into two police pistols. Shackleton’s clever
ruse had worked. Barth, hearing his first
name called, had thought the detectives
were friends of his bent on an early morn-
ing call and had left his own guns where
they lay by the bed. Barth was ordered to
dress.
A hasty examination of the room dis-
closed a small packet of letters, the two
guns, a pair of brass knuckles, a wallet
with one hundred dollars in it, and a stack
of old newspapers. As Kurt dressed, Officer
Schroeder noticed that he kept eyeing the
door. As he buttoned his vest, Barth moved
slightly toward the door. Suddenly he made
a mad dash, vaulted the small railing to the
staircase and scrambled down the stairway.
As he vaulted the railing Officer Schroeder
made a wild grab at the fleeing man and
grabbed the back of his vest. The vest
ripped off, remaining in Schroeder’s hand
and the fleeing Barth continued his mad
dash for freedom.
Glace the house Officer Marchione
saw a man come flying out the front
door and in one jump leap down the. front
steps. Marchione gave chase, firing a shot
into the air'as he ran after the man. The
man turned and darted down an alley. Mar-
chione followed close behind. Suddenly the
man stopped and held up his hands. The
alley was a blind one, backed by a high ce-
ment wall. Cornered, Kurt Barth surrend-
ered like the coward that he was. Officers
Schroeder, Shackleton and Marchione de-
cided to take no more chances with him.
AY
They took him directly to the Clifton head-
quarters. Detective Marchione later went
down and drove the black Plymouth sedan
back to the police station.
A search of the car revealed several ex-
tra sets of license plates under the back
seat. This confirmed a-conviction which I
had long held that the robberies were being .
“American Detegtive
committed by the same car and that differ-
ent license plates were being switched on
and off after each holdup.
At the Clifton headquarters we proceeded:
to question young Kurt Barth. At first he
denied all knowledge of the holdups, but
admitted that he had stolen the Plymouth
car from the Paterson, Rutherford Com-
pany on March 6th. Later when we com-
menced to question him about the shooting
of Julius. Friedman he readily admitted the
other holdups, but denied. that’ he ‘had: had:
anything to do with the killing of Friedman.:
It seemed possible that some of the other
members of Barth’s gang might have com-
mitted the murder of the Bloomfield habesr
dasher. True to gang world ethics, Barth
refused to name the other members of his
gang. We fully realized that our case
against Barth for the killing of Julius
Friedman was entirely circumstantial. Even
if one of the guns found in Barth’s room
should prove to be the same gun that fired
the bullet that killed Friedman, we would
still have to prove that Barth was at the
store the night of the holdup, and had fired
the gun. The missing link in the chain of
circumstances was that we did not have a
single witness to the shooting who could
identify Friedman’s slayers.
It was at this point in the questioning
that I remembered the little piece of paper
wadding hat liner that one of the murderers
of Julius. Friedman had dropped in his
haste to’ get away. Barth’s hat was pro-
cured, and I found out that the little piece
of paper wadding fitted it perfectly. We
took the hat, with the paper liner in it,
down to Barth. We asked him to put the
hat on. He did so, and it was plain that the
hat fitted him perfectly. Captain Linarducci
of the Essex County Prosecutor’s Office
took the hat from Barth’s head and fold-
ing back the sweat band showed. him the
paper wadding liner underneath it, Taking
out the paper liner he handed it to Barth.
“Is this the paper liner you usually use
to make the hat fit?” Captain Linarducci
asked. ' .
Barth examined the little strip of paper
wadding.
“Yes it is,” he said. “I missed it right
after I had done a holdup some place. I _
igh
.! wae es Mi what Af
can’t remember where.” -
In these words Kurt Barth convicted
himself. This, then, was the missing link
that we needed to establish Kurt Barth’s
presence in Julius Friedman’s store on the
night that the Bloomfield haberdasher was
killed.
Fens SES
ad
teownm
We told Barth that the hat liner had been
found in Friedman’s store. He immediately
agreed to tell us the names of the other
members of the black Plymouth sedan
gang, stating that one of his pals must have
borrowed his hat on the night that Fried-
man was killed. He told us that the other
members of the gang were Stanley Salek,
twenty-one, of 265 Passaic Street, Passaic;
Walter Salek, Stanley’s brother, and Doro-
thy Wallis, twenty-two, of 69 Davis Ave-
nue, Kearney. Barth informed us that he
had a date that night to meet the Salek
brothers in Rutherford, New Jersey, and-
that they had planned to do several hold-
ups after the meeting. That night the date
was kept in Rutherford, but instead of Kurt
Barth meeting the Saleks, they were greet-
ed by several officers who promptly took
them into custody. Later Dot Wallis was
picked up and we proceeded to question the
different members of the gang separately.
When we told Stanley Salek that Barth
was trying to hang the murder of Julius
Friedman on himself and his brother, he
promptly told us that at about seven o'clock
on the night of April 6th, Ken Frazer (that
was the alias that Kurt Barth was known
by to the members of his gang) had come
to the Salek brothers’ saloon on 256 Passaic _
Avenue and asked them to go out and doa
stickup. Stanley Salek said that he could
not go because he had a date with his girl,
but that maybe Walter would go. Barth
then asked Walter Salek to go. Walter,
however, had to tend bar.
“To hell with it,” Barth said. “I’ll go
myself.”
Barth left the saloon.
At about ten o’clock he came back wear-
ing an adhesive tape bandage on his fore-
head. Going to the bar he ordered a high-
ball,
“How did you make out?” Walter Salek
had asked him.
“I had a little trouble,” Barth said. “I
held up a Jew in Bloomfield and the damn
fool put up a fight. I had to shoot him to
get away.” .
Taking his highball back to a booth,
Barth recited the story of the holdup in de-
tail. He said .that he had walked into the
store and asked for a size 15 shirt. Fried-
man had gone to the back of the store and
taken down a small bundle of shirts. When
Friedman turned around Barth was point-—
ing the gun at him,
“Let’s have the 1
ter,” Barth snappec
Friedman ster--
ter and started
Halfway there,
up, holding his sto
fainting spell. Bar
to see what the t:
Friedman grabbec
scuffle for the wez
head on the gun t
the wound on his
that Barth struck
knocked off. As th:
man was knocked
S the defensele:
floor, Barth <
his hat and ran out
ing that he had le:
of paper waddin;
Salek said that he
gether from wh:
brother Walter, h:
We next questio
mitted that she w
heart, and that she
Barth and the Sale!
informed her that
cated Kurt Barth
Friedman. Dot W
Barth had also cc
Dot Wallis’ staten
Salek down to Kur
the game was up a
confess also. He a;
us substantially the
recited to Walter ‘
murder. Barth ins
gun had not been
had been fired dur
es
>
ud
fare?
gQ
oo ae
The Four Horsemen and t @ Black Sedan
[CONTINUED FROM PAGE 33]
b>
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a
do so. Suddenly Sam Ruben heard a voice
in back of him.
“All right,” the voice said, “go over to
the cash register and take the money out.”
Sam Ruben turned and looked squarely
into the muzzle of a revolver.
“No speeka da Engleesh,” he muttered,
in the most broken language he could mus-
ter. At the same time he still held the
yet to find the men and that ‘a’ conviction
even then would be very difficult to get.
Any pleasure that we experienced at the
finding of this connecting link between the
murderer and the holdups was certainly
short-lived. Within the next week, while
the police teletype system pounded out the
description of the holdup men, and while
every police department in the state handed
moved to the protection of another elm tree,
but thi € one nearer to the black Plym-
outh In the dull morning light
Schroe could just make out the license
plate number. The officer’s body stiffened,
and his hand went instinctively to his gun.
The license number was P5930.
As the man, who had gotten out of the
sedan, walked down Columbia Avenue, he
pa eS
’ out daily bulletins to all patrolmen, these passed not five feet from the tree which
cowardly killers. proceeded to hold up seven was concealing Offfcer Schroeder. Schroe-
more small storekeepers and gas stations. der got a good view of the man as he went
It was fortunate that in none of these hold- by; fair faced, smooth shaven, in his early
ups did the victims offer any resistance, be- _ twenties, wearing eye-glasses, looked just
| “oO Cause, as we later found out, they most cer- _ like a college boy. Schroeder remembered
| : tainly would have been shot at. the description. The same man, Schroeder
| a The black sedan gang was running wild _ thought to himself, that shot at Sam Ruben
~ all over northern New Jersey. All the small with the gun that later killed Julius Fried-
-d storekeepers in this entire district were ter- | man. Every nerve tightening with sup-
rified. Not content with one holdup, these pressed excitement, Schroeder let the man
N gangsters would do two or three in a night. pass by, and then keeping to the shadows
f= We who were working on the case realized and flitting from elm tree to elm tree,
wooden handle of the heavy butter knife in
his right hand.
“Don’t act dumb,” the bespectacled hold-
up man said, and he smiled as he spoke.
“You know what I mean, the cash regis-
ter, open it.”
In one movement Sam Ruben hurled the
heavy butter knife at the holdup man and
then ducked behind the counter. As he fell
on the floor Ruben heard the knife bounce
off a pickle bottle and he knew that he had
missed. Almost simultaneously a shot rang
out and Ruben heard the bullet plough into
the wall just over his head.
After a few moments Ruben poked his
head up from behind the counter. He saw
the holdup man getting into a black Plym-
outh sedan. Running out of the store Ruben
snatched up a brown paper bag, and as the
car drove away he recorded the license
number. It was P5930.
The description given to us by Officer
Keane and by Ruben tallied in every way.
There remained now only to find the bullet
fired at Ruben and to compare it with the
one taken from Friedman’s body. Finding
the bullet fired at Ruben was no easy job,
however. Before this was accomplished we
had pulled down the whole side of Ruben’s
store and carefully sifted the débris. After
two days of tedious work, the bullet was
finally removed. I examined it and éound ,
that it was unquestionably a 38 calibre bul-
let. This was encouraging but was this bul-
let fired from the same gun that killed
Friedman?
By means of a comparison microscope I
compared the bullet taken from Friedman’s
body with the one taken from Ruben’s
store. The comparison showed that the two
bullets had been fired from the identical
gun.
At last we were no longer working on
’ guesswork, we had definite proof that the
men who were responsible for the black
Plymouth sedan outrages had also shot
Julius Friedman. It was true that we had
that unless this gang was run down, and
run down quickly, the loss of more lives
was bound to ensue.
(EF JENSEN and his “four horse-
men” of the Bloomfield: police, and De-
tectives Raffaell Cappodonna and Joe Rod-
gers of. the Newark police department
worked with me_untiringly. With only time
for.an hour’s sleep here and there, we went
about the state running down leads, investi-
gating every holdup, and impressing on the
police chiefs of the various small towns the
importance of running down these killers.
Finally, on May 2nd came a report from
Clifton, New Jersey, that sent us all post-
haste to that town. It appeared that Officer
Schroeder, on duty~at Post 3 ffom one at
night to nine o’clock in: the. morning, had
often noticed, a black Plymouth sedan
parked by a brake-lining place. The thing
that first attracted his attention to the car
was the fact that it. was not parked there
regularly. Being an alert officer, Schroeder
recorded the licensé. number ina little black
book. It was 1E-11602.
> At ten minutes to five, on.the morning of
May 2nd,. Officer Schroeder again saw the
car pull up to the usual spot. Schroeder no-
ticed that there was-only one man driving.
Hiding behind.a large elm tree, the officer
watched the man get out of the car. Cau-
tiously keeping: to the shadows Schroeder
Schroeder stalked his man and saw him
enter a house at 86 Getty Avenue.
What to do now? Schroeder stood and
watched the house. He saw a light go on up
in the attic and the man apparently went to
bed. Schroeder remembered that the car
had been parked by the brake-lining place
on other nights. He decided the best thing
to do was to watch the house for the next
few hours until his superiors came on duty.
There was no haste. If the car had heen
there other nights, the man must live in this
house.
At eight-thirty o’clock Officer Schroeder
abandoned his vigil to escort the school
children across a near-by school crossing.
At ten minutes to nine he called the Clifton
police headquarters. The importance of the
call was immediately realized and Detec-
tives Shackleton and Marchione were sent
to help make the arrest. Together. with
Officer Schroeder the two detectives went
to the house at 86 Getty Avenue. It was de-
cided that Officer Marchione would wait
outside the house and guard the front door
in case the man tried to get away. Detective
Shackleton and Officer Schroeder entered
the house. From a kindly faced middle-
aged lady on the first floor they learned that
the young man with the eye-glasses was
her son, Kurt Barth. Kurt’s room, she in-
formed the officers, was in the attic. The
officers tiptoed up the stairs to the attic.
SR ASAE Sis Be AE
vhere.”
ls Kurt Barth convicted .
ien, was the missing link
to establish Kurt Barth’s
s Friedman’s store on the,
oomfield haberdasher was
Li Awad
pH nr ws
Eretnog Tse ees ome
eo © Gems
town
nn
that the hat liner had been
an’s store. He immediately
s the names of the other
2 black Plymouth sedan
t one of his pals must have
t on the night that Fried-
He told us that the other
g were Stanley Salek,
assaic Street, Passaic;
y’s brother, and Doro-
ty-two, of 69 Davis Ave-
arth informed us that he
night to meet the Salek
ierford, New Jersey, and-
inned to do several hold-
eting. That night the date
erford, but instead of Kurt
ie Saleks, they were greet-
ficers who promptly took
ly. Later Dot Wallis was
2 proceeded to question the
rs of the gang separately.
Stanley Salek that Barth
ang the murder of Julius
nself and his brother, he
that at about seven o’clock
.pril 6th, Ken Frazer (that
it Kurt Barth was known
rs of his gang) had come
aers’ saloon on 256 Passaic .
d them to go out and doa
Salek said that he could
e had a date with his girl,
Walter would go. Barth
lter Salek to go. Walter,
tend bar.
1 it,’ Barth said. “I’ll go
saloon.
)’clock he came back wear-
tape bandage on his fore-
the bar he ordered a high-
make out?” Walter Salek
e trouble,” Barth said. “I
1 Bloomfield and the damn
zht. I had to shoot him to
ighball back to a booth,
y of the holdup in de-
: had walked into the
a size 15 shirt. Fried-
the back of the store and
all bundle of shirts. When
{ around Barth was point-
mY
“Let’s have the money in the cash regis-
ter,” Barth snapped.
Friedman stepped from behind the coun-
ter-and started to go to the cash register.
Halfway there, however, Friedman doubled
up, holding his stomach, seeming to have a
fainting spell. Barth stepped closer to.him
to see what the trouble was. In one move
Friedman grabbed the gun. During the
scuffle for the weapon, Barth hit his fore-
head on the gun butt, thus accounting for
the wound on his head. At the same time
that Barth struck his forehead his hat was
knocked off. As the scuffle continued Fried-
man was knocked to the ground.
S the defenseless haberdasher lay on the
floor, Barth shot him, then picked up
his hat and ran out of the store, not realiz-
ing that he had left the telltale little piece
of paper wadding behind him. Stanley
Salek said that he had pieced the story to-
gether from what Barth, and also his
brother Walter, had told him.
We next questioned Dot Wallis. She ad-
mitted that she was Kurt Barth’s sweet-
heart, and that she had sat in the car while
Barth and the Saleks had done holdups. We
informed her that Stanley Salek had impli-
cated Kurt Barth in the murder of Julius
Friedman. Dot Wallis then admitted that
Barth had also confessed to her. Taking
Dot: Wallis’ statement and that of Stanley
Salek down to Kurt Barth, we told him that
the game was up and that he might as well
confess also. He agreed to confess and told
us substantially the same story that he had
recited to Walter Salek on the night of the
murder. Barth insisted, however, that the
gun had not been fired in cold blood, but
had -been fired during the struggle’ for its
possession. ‘Although: the es bone
ical’ Examiner Martland, showing the gun
had been fired at a distance of from three
to four feet belied this statement, as.no one
had actually seen the shooting, we took the
statement down as Barth gave it.
On May 4th Barth was arraigned hefore
Recorder Arthur V. Talmadge in Bloom-
field Police Court. He was held without
bail for the Grand Jury. The two Salek
brothers and Dot Wallis were held as mate-
rial witnesses.
The next day, May 5th, Lieutenant John
Whelan and Detective Fred Hess, of the
Bloomfield “four horsemen,” picked up an-
other member of the black Plymouth sedan
gang. He was Joseph O’Reilly of 1133
Washington Place, Passaic. Barth had later
named him as a member of his mob. With
O’Reilly’s capture the entire black sedan
gang had been caught.
Kurt Barth went on trial for the killing
of Julius Friedman in Judge Brennan’s
Court on June 3rd. Under the law of the
state of New Jersey, a conviction for first
degree murder was mandatory. However, a
jury trial is required in. cases of this kind,
to ascertain whether or not the prisoner
shall be given life imprisonment or should
die in the electric chair.
Kurt Barth’s mother and father, self-re-
specting middle-class German immigrants,
were penniless. They had no money to pay
for their son’s defense. As a result Samuel
I. Kessler, one of the most brilliant crimi-
nal defense lawyers in the state, was as-
signed by the court as defense counsel; he
was assisted by James L. McKenna.
At the trial the bewildered old couple,
who were Kurt Barth’s mother and father,
77
were a pitiful example of the misery. and
unhappiness that one erring son can bring
to his parents.
_ As Joseph E. Conlon, First Assistant
Prosecutor, said in his summary to the jury,
Kurt Barth’s upbringing and his refined
gentle appearance certainly belied the de-
generate gangster brain that these appear-
ances concealed.
Samuel Kessler, in summing up for the
defense, made one of the most impassioned
denunciations of capital punishment ever
made to a jury.
Talking after this brilliant appeal, Joseph
Conlon made the summary for the prosecu-
tion. In a cold deliberafe voice he met Kess-
ler’s argument word for word, and went on
to show that Barth was a deliberate cold-
blooded murderer who had killed a man in
order to make his escape and continue his
life of crime.
The jury brought in a verdict of guilty,
without a recommendation for mercy, and
on June 11th Judge Brennan sentenced
Kurt Barth to die in the electric chair dur-
ing the week of July 22nd.
Thus came to an end one of the most
baffling murders that has ever occurred in
Essex County. In recognition of their work
on this case, three of the “four horsemen”
detectives were promoted. Detective
Thomas Spatcher was made a Detective
Sergeant;
who had been acting detectives, were given
permanent assignments. In closing, I wish
to state that without the untiring efforts of
the Newark, Boonton, Morristown and
Clifton police, the “four horsemen” and: I
would have indeed found the sledding diff-
cult.
Fred Hess and Fred England,:
T he Four Horsemen and the Black Sedan
ne post haste to that town. It Me ‘ ‘
ht of the rsth, Officers Keane
1 Arlington police department
n Ness Avenue in North Ar-
: Ford, when a car passed them
of speed. The officers gave
car. It was a black Plymouth
: plate P5930. Inside the car
1 two young ladies. The man
twenties, fair complexioned,
ed like a college boy. He had
0 registration. Officer. Keane
ard of the car and instructed
the North Arlington police
arnett followed, driving the
Arlington police headquarters
uth running board and told
an alley at the side of the
.e Officer Harnett had parked
front of headquarters. One
on an open lawn. Suddenly
Plymouth sedan put the car
teering wheel, and mounting
lley, drove overtthe lawn to
rs screamed in second speed
the police Ford around and
.e maze of roads in that sec-
which way the fugitive car
to give up the chase. The
dup men had vanished.
as no direct linking evidence
uth sedan gang and the mur-
The murder gun,
derer of Julius Friedman. A jury would never convict
them on the similarity of the make of car used and
the size rs shirt. Nevertheless, these clues were all we
had to work on, and I decided to follow them for all
‘they were worth. ,
Officer Whelan had discovered, in his check-up, a
black Plymouth sedan that was bearing the license
number P5930, had been stolen on March 8th from
the Paterson, Rutherford Company. If we could find
out who stole that car we would know who the black
| Plymouth sedan gang were. With this thought in mind,
- on April 16th we questioned Mrs. William Hayford,
_ the president of the Paterson, Rutherford Company.
_ She said her company had a branch office in Morris-
town, New Jersey, and that-perhaps some of the ex-
employees of that branch might have stolen the car.
This looked very unlikely to us, but then we were
leaving no stone unturned as far as this case was con-
cerned, so Detectives Spatcher, Officer Keane of the
North Arlington force and I went to Morristown to
see Chief of Police Fred Roff. As Officer Spatcher
pointed out, there had been a black Plymouth sedan
holdup in Morristown on March 16th and we could
adap the victims of this holdup while we were
there.
When we stated our mission, Police Chief Roff be-
came very much interested.
“Did you know,” Roff asked, “that the man who
brass knuckles and paper liner. All of these pieces of evidence were used to
convict the man who shot Julius Friedman in cold blood.
held up Sam Ruben here on March 16th fired a shot
at Ruben and then drove away without taking any
money?”
Outside of the brief teletype description of the hold-
_ up,-we had no further information, and on hearing this
news we immediately proceeded to the delicatessen and
grocery store operated by Samuel Ruben at 173 Speed-
well Avenue, Morristown.
The immense importance of a shot being fired was
immediately clear to all of us. If this bullet fired by
one of the black Plymouth sedan holdup men could
be found, we could compare it with the bullet taken
from Friedman’s body. It might be the connecting
link between the murderer of Julius Friedman and
the black Plymouth sedan holdup men. It was with
the excitement of a pack of thoroughbred blood-
hounds, hot on the trail, that we interviewed Ruben.
The amazing story that the one-hundred-pound,
mild-mannered Samuel Ruben told, practically set us
howling for the kill. It appeared that at 7:30 o'clock
on the evening of March 15th, a fair-faced, smooth-
shaven, young man in his early twenties, and wearing
eye-glasses, entered Ruben’s store.
“I want a pound of butter,” the young man had
said.
Ruben turned around and commenced to cut a
pound of butter from a tub, using a heavy knife to
"| [CONTINUED ON PAGE.75]
ae Se SP nee 3
BAGK—STILL IN DEATH
Wok Lo die 3 2 Lec, INO AD ob
' Kes 7 i. 1Q0%
a UAL Y Lo, Lc
+i
The secret of the HIDDE
IFTEEN YEARS ago this December 27, Lieutenant
Fk Harry A. Kloeble sat behind the huge and. newly
impressive reception desk in police headquarters at
Orange, New Jersey, and wondered why the Christmas
tree that still stood in one corner had lost its charm so
automatically the day before.
He recalled the tradition that kept it in place until
New Year’s day, even though, once the holiday was over,
it suggested little more than a stack of unpaid bills at
home, and puffed slowly at his cigar. A reminiscent smile
curved his lips as he thought of the joy his children had
.taken in their presents, and the unpaid bills were for-
gotten.
The telephone in front of him rang loudly and shat-
tered his mood. Crisply, he picked up the receiver and
said, “Police Headquarters.” 4
“This is Charles F. Brigham of 266 Fuller Terrace,”
he was informed. “I arrived home a little while ago, and
I can’t find my wife. Have you any report on her?”
Kloeble scanned quickly the docket in front of him.
“No,” he said. “We have nothing here. Are you sure she
hasn’t gone visiting.”
“I’m positive,” said Brigham. “My little daughter
called the office at five o’clock and said she couldn’t find
her mother and that the baby was hungry and crying.
I had to take my stenographer to the house with me and
have her take care of the children.
“T’ve called all the hospitals and all the neighbors and
searched the house from top to bottom, but I can’t lo-
cate her. She’d never have left the children alone unless
something were wrong.”
Once more the lieutenant glanced through the reports
on. the desk before him.
BY CAPTAIN JOSEPH LINARDUCCI
Prosecutor's Office, Essex County, N. J.
AS TOLD TO ADRIAN B. LOPEZ
ba
THE SHIFTING FLASHLIGHT
SPOTTED THE NAKED BODY
OF A WOMAN LYING ON HER
Zi
FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE ~~ = “4
NF
hat does
Bi aa
ay,
“There’s nothing about her here,” he said. “
your. wife look like?” ‘i ve:
“She’s twenty-seven years old,” said Brigham, “about P
five feet three inches tall, and weighs one twenty-three, [>
She has brown hair and blue eyes. I believe she was wear-
ing a pink house dress,” — - Se
“You’d better come down here immediately,” said
Kloeble, “I’ll have the description sent out to all patrol- | ©
men in the meantime.” ce
A few minutes later a husky young man about thirty- |
five years of age walked into headquarters. His face was i
pale, and he looked extremely nervous and worried. "
“I’m Brigham,” he said, and there was a catch in his [
voice. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to be bothering
you, but I’m half afraid my wife has committed suicide. | ~
She’s been having a bad time lately—ever since her third |
baby was born. Her nervgs have been shot, and I’m frank- F
ly worried.” ; eS
“Will you sit down a moment?” Kloeble asked courte-
ously. “I’ve called Lieutenants Byrnes and Cronin. 4
They’ll be here any moment with the police car.” *
ae ghcudamee THEREAFTER Brigham was cruising the
streets of Orange with the two officers. They visited
first the stores of the tradesmen where the missing wife
was wont to buy her household supplies. Without suc-
cess. Then, at the suggestion of the worried ‘husband,
they tried a nearby lake where it was thought ‘that she
might have drowned herself. ae
After further fruitless search, they went to the Brig-
ham house, which was located in a pleasant residential
district. Mason, a patrolman who had accompanied them,
was asked to visit the neighboring residences in the hope
‘ Sic’
Captain of Detectives Joseph 1 A
Linarducci, veteran officer of. Yj
the Essex County, New Jer.
‘Sey, Prosecutor's Office, who Sh
was in charge of this baffling {7
‘murder investigation. He te
o :
ean Annan ieAnatae ne
Sata Segre pene oat
Sy
ae e ee Se oe “
weave in the greasy trousers found on
the floor near Babchuck’s bed and the
grey coat we found in the cabin. In
every suit the weave is the same, but
the weave on the trousers and that on
the coat we found was different.” °
“So what?” Mike growled. “I wag
working there and I took the coat by
mistake.” ; "
“Then perhaps you can explain *this
puzzle,” Inspector spoke casually. “The
day before Babchuck was killed he wore’
this coat to the Hamilton store when he
bought groceries. He had Mrs. Hamil-.
ton repair a-slight’ tear in the right
pocket. You can see where the tear
was repaired. Babchuck’s wife didn’t
ave a\ sewing machine. Now, if you
took his coat by mistake, you had to.
take it after he got back from the store °
on the night of August 21st. But you.
say you left there some days before
that.”
The room began to whirl around in
front of Mike. His heart was pounding
wildly. He wanted to say something,
to give a glib answer but there was
none,
“The truth is,” Inspector Spiller
shot at-him, “that you were at the
Babchuck cabin on the night of August
21st and 22nd and you killed Babchuck
for the money he had on him.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Mike screamed.
“I tell you I didn’t kill him. I was in
Hythe on the 20th.”
He suddenly realized how weak that
statement was now and_he stopped
talking and stared at the floor,
Inspector Spiller said: “Here are the
two cartridges you ejected from your
rifle. We have your rifle. Corporal Day
got it for us after bringing you here.
Our expert, Mr. Derome, has examined
the cartridges. They were fired by
your gun, which has a slight defect in
the firing pin. Also we have the bullet
that killed Babchuck.. I guess we don’t
need any more. We are arresting you
for the murder of Joe Babchuck and
his wife,”
A wave of fury swept over Mike. He
raved and yelled that he didn’t kill
Babchuck.
Detective McBrayne grabbed him by
the arm and dragged him out of the
office and to a cell.
A formal charge of murder was
placed against him. ¢
On May 21st, 1951 Mike Sowry was
placed on trial. The Crown had little
difficulty persuading the pty Mike
was guilty and they promptly brought
in a verdict of murder in the first de-
gree.
Almost exactly one year from the
date of the double murders on August
19, 1951, a quavering, trembling,
whimpering Mike Sowry, who had be-
lieved killing was an easy crime, was
led up the thirteen steps to the gal-
lows at the Oakalla jail.
(Continued from Page 21 )
The detectives left after getting a»
list of his business associates and the
few friends whose names he’d men-
_ tioned from time to time.
Back at detective headquarters ‘Co-
cozza turned once more to a study of
the narrow strip of folded newspaper
he had recovered from the scene of
. the shooting.
When he first found that‘ strip of
poner he’d recognized it as of a size
requently placed inside men’s hats
when they are too large for their:
wearers. So while he was busy ques-
tioning the dead’ man’s family and
friends he’d had the paper sent to the
policé chemical laboratories with a re-
quest that they determine, if possible, .
‘what caused the dark, grease-like stains -
that dppeared on one side of the strip.
The report was on his desk within an
hour,» and it proved Cocozza’s con-
juncture. The ‘stains had been caused
y human perspiration. There were
also slight ‘traces of perfumed ojl—
obviously hair dressing. :
‘ re) N unfolding the paper Cocozza had
noted that it was an inside page of
a Patterson, N. J., daily paper dated
Saturday, March 17, 1934, exactly
twenty-one days before the slaying of
Friedman on April 6. Pa)
Several inches below the date a small,
irregular hole bore evidence that some-
one had cut an item from the Sheet, :
The investigator replaced the folded
newspaper in his pocket. :
England agreed and it was decided ©
that no time should ‘be wasted before
running down what looked like an .al-
most perfect lead. The two. officers
started toward the door, intent on driv-
ing immediately to nearby Patterson
and there checking newspaper files,
But even as they reached the door an
aide called them back. The police tele-
type had just clicked out an alarm
from Montclair, three miles from
Bloomfield: ;
“Watch for black Plymouth sedan,
66.
a4 4
. ‘ i rear ‘
* s * ». Bey: prey ee ge) fe ov dee ee ‘ ce! oak hw lhe
ae : HACE are ae am her bin toler he hte tag ea Me EST Mgmt Re oe AE yt Tn SS be ok ae
EY Sei in Sloe oa ae Be ALT et So RY TE se ONS A RO .
1933 model, being driven’ toward your
city by slight, bespectacled youth who
attempted ‘to hold up haberdashery
here less than thirty minutes ago. Man ,
entered store, asked to purchase size
15 shirt and drew pistol on proprietor
as latter brought’ forth merchandise.”
Five minutes later, Cocozza and
England . were speeding toward the
scene of the’ Montclair holdup. Over
their two-way radio they heard that
‘the Montclair robbery attempt had
been foiled when a customer entered
the store and the lone gunman turned
and ran. He had leapt into his car and
sped off.
Other police patrol cars by this time
were on the alert for the fleein gun-
man, but the man apparently had a
hideout somewhere between Montclair
and Bloomfield, for he managed to
make good his escape.
“Not much doubt but he’s the same
fellow that killed Friedman,” Cocozza
said. “And there’s no doubt that he’s
desperate for money and will make
another attempt before long.”
Back at headquarters an immediate
alarm went out to police throughout
New Jersey, Pennsylvania and New
York to be on the watch: for the daring
unman. And before nightfall the
State Motor Licence Bureau in Trenton
was checking on the ownership of every
black Plymouth for which licenses had
been issued in New Jersey during the
past year.
Cocozza, after sending out the tri-
state alarm, determined to continue on
to the newspaper office in Patterson,
but once again his plan was altered:
by a flash on the police teletype. This
time the message came througig from.
Boonton, a small New Jersey com-
munity some seventeen miles from
Bloomfield. . :
Once again the youthful bandit had
entered a clothing store, asked for a
size 15 shirt, and then thrust a re-
volver into the proprietor’s ribs as the
latter turned to show him the article,
‘
“I gave him the few dollars from
my till, after convincing him I’d just
taken the rest of the day’s receipts to
the bank,” the store-keeper told Cocozza
over the telephone a few minutes after
the flash came in. ;
“Then he ordered me to lie down
behind the counter and ran outside.”
The Essex County investigator turned
wearily to his assistant: “Fred, you’d
better run this last one down. There are
plenty of squad cars already crusing
around in search of this guy and.they’ve
been warned to concentrate on the
territory between Boonton, Montclair
and Bloomfield. I’m going to get over
to Patterson and check on that missing.
newspaper item!”
| T WAS close to midnight on Satur-
day, March 7, when Cocozza walked
out of the office of: a Patterson news-
. Paper. With him he carried a_ short
clipping describing a daring holdup on
March 15, the day before the date of
the strip of newspaper dropped by
riedman’s murderer,
The newspaper item described how a
lone bandit had entered a delicatessen
store in’ the downtown district and
asked for a pound of butter. As ‘the
owner started to cut the butter with
the heavy knife he kept for that pur-
pose he heard a soft voice behind him
say: an
“This is a stickup. Get* over to the
cash register quietly and nothing will
happen to you.” '
nstead of complying, the owner had
whirled around, stared for a fraction
of a second into the barrel of a re-
volver, then swung his heavy bread
knife at the bandit. The weapon fell
short of its' mark and the next instant
a shot rang out, but missed. The holdup
man ran towards a black sedan parked
in front of the store and made his
escape,
The news item ended with the in-
formation that the Patterson police
were now looking for a slim, blond
,
series «
_headqu
an ala
P-5930.
Then
which
‘time if
been a
Two
bers of
and st
highwa
sedan ;
North .
They \
soundin
the otl
pulled
roadwa:
As't
noted i
their se
A qu
_ complex
failed t
the offi
Arlingt«
them h:
of the :
‘ The y
and offe
home vy
stateme
taking
on the
sedan, }
other p
youth’s
to Nort
' ters,
A fe
chines }
tion hor
trolman
board «
turn off
key, th
though
But ins
thrust }
window,
from th
A mc
into life
out aro.
across ¢
over the
ing
out
stor
in-
ullet
rty-
me-
led
and.
‘red.
side,
- the
—s
Killer, above,
led a double life as typical suburbanite _
by day and stickup man and killer ot night. Lieutenant
Joseph Cocozza, left, special. investigator for Essex
County, fitted jig saw clues that trapped the murderer,
throttle wide as he swerved past Zetwick. Friedman,
mortally. wounded, had staggered toward the front of
the store, calling for help:
Wirer Cocozza was speaking, his partner, Detective
Fred. England, went through the dead man’s’
pockets, recovering $50 in ten-dollar bills. Another $60,
in small bills and ‘silver, was found in a closed but un-
locked register behind the shirt counter. The small safe
beyond the handrail stood open, but was found to con-
tain only books and papers.
Figures on a pile of sales Slips at the side of the cash
register indicated that Friedman had taken in $110
during the day. The robber, therefore, had seemingly
fled emptyhanded. :
Meanwhile Cocozza’se attention was distracted by a
small strip of folded’: newspaper he’d picked up from
the floor a foot from the overturned table. This paper
was about an inch wide, eleven inches in length and
had been folded half a dozen times. That it had fallen
to the’ floor after the gunman’s bullet had pierced
Friedman’s body was evidenced by the fact that be-
neath it were several drops of blood. Without comment
‘Cocozza wrapped the paper in a handkerchief and put
it carefully away in his coat pocket.
“Well, I guess there’s little more to be learned here,”
he said. “Could be robbery, all right, but: it’s strange
that a man who had the nerve to murder his victim
couldn’t stop long enough to reach in an unlocked cash
register for the cash.” :
Friedman had been a quiet, “studious fellow’ who
spent most of his evenings reading or listening to clas-
sical music on the radio. He rarely went out at night
and never took an interest in sporting events or social
gathering, except in the company of his few good friends.
(Continued on Page 66)
‘ :21
[eran
a
‘
ing you
ack and
like. He
{n’t. “kill.
him by
of the
or was
Ty was
d little.
’ Mike
orought
irst. de-
ym the
August
nbling,
iad be-
ie, Was
ie gal-
from
1 just
pts to
1cOzZZa
after
down
le.”
urned
you’d
‘e are
using”
.ey’ve
. the
telair
over
ssing,
ER Seats a
a
sa ate eS
(
young robber who wore eye glasses.
rom the newspaper office Cocozza
went to the Patterson police station.
There he learned that the man had
never been apprehended. The police,
did, however, have the license number
of the black sedan in which he had
made his escape.
“Of course we've checked it with the
State License Bureau,” the Patterson
police detective declared. “Learned
that the license, P-5930, was issued to
a local firm for a Buick coupe. On
March 8 the license plate was reported
lost or stolen. It hasn’t been receovered
since.”
* Cocozza had no doubt that the man
who had. held up the Patterson store
was the youth responsible for the latest
series of robberies. He called -his own
headquarters and had them send out
an_ alarm for a car bearing license
P-59380.
..Then a new break came in the case
which made him wonder for the first
‘time if his trip to Patterson had not
been a waste of time.
Two state highway patrolmen, mem-
bers of the vast army of city, county
and state officers patrolling Jersey
‘highways, had spotted a speeding black
sedan just east of the little town of
North Arlington only an hour before.
They went into immediate pursuit,
sounding their siren. Almost at once
the other machine had slowed and
pulled to a stop at the side of the
roadway.
As the state men drove up and
noted it was a Plymouth they drew
their service revolvers. ‘
A quick search of the slight, light-
. complexioned youth who drove the car
failed to reveal any weapon. He told
the officers that he lived near North
Arlington, ‘but was unable to show
them his driver’s license. The license
of the automobile was LE 11-602.
! The youth appeared perfectly at ease
and offered to take the officers to his
home where they could confirm ' his
statements. But the state men were
taking no chances. While one stood
on the running board of the black
sedan, his gun still on the driver, the
other pulled around in front of the
youth’s car and started slowly back
to North Arlington’s police headquar-
' ters.
A few minutes later the two ma-
chines pulled up in front of the sta-
tion house. As the state highway pa-
trolman stepped from ‘the running
board of his car,.ordering him to
turn off the motor and take out the
key, the youth reached forward as
though to comply with the demand.
But instead of doing so he suddenly
thrust his arm from the side of the
window, and knocked the revolver
from the officer’s hand.
A moment later the motor roared
into life and the black sedan swung
out around the police car and swerved
across a grass plot and into an alley
at the side of the police station. .
The patrolmen went into instant ac-
tion. But by the time they got under
way the other car was completely out
of sight.
The two, state men were forced to
return to headquarters where once
more an alarm went out for a car
which was already being sought all
over the state.
N ORTH ARLINGTON police had lost
no time in checking license num-
ber LE 11-602 with state officials and
it was learned that a plate bearing that
number had been stolen the week be-
fore in Trenton, the state capital, from
.4@ car parked on a downtown street,
Cocozza was at a loss to explain the
fact that the iicense plate on the car
used in the Patterson job was not the
same as the one on the machine stop-
ped near North Arlington. He turned
to the Patterson detective beside him:
“Did the fellow who held up the
delicatessen leave anything at the
scene of. the robbery?” he asked.
“Only the bullet that fired,” the other
replied. a
“You recovered that slug?”
* “Sure, The boys in ballistics have
it.
Five minutes later, Cocozza had per-
mission to borrow the flattened slug.
He left Patterson and headed back
toward Bloomfield.
Early Sunday morning, he arrived
back at headquarters. The first thing
he did on reaching his office was to -
obtain the .38 calibre slug which had
been taken from Julius Friedman’s
body: ‘A expert, ballistics, Cocozza
placed the two slugs under a com-
presen microscope, checking the. rif-
Ings on one against the other, :
At the conclusion of his experiment
he was positive both bullets had been
fired from the same revolver.
England, entering the laboratory as
Cocozza_ completed his experiment,
showed little enthusiasm on learning
of the check. “So what?” he said. “The
guy’s already killed one man, stuck up
at least two other stores. The fact that
he operated over in Patterson more
than a month ago is hardly going to
bring us any, closer to learning who he
is and rounding him up.”
“Perhaps _ not,” replied Cocozza
patiently. “But it shows us_ several
things which should aid materially in
bringing about his capture. In the first
place, we know that the black Plymouth
figuring in all those holdups is probab«
ly the man’s own car. The state people
report that all black Plymouth sedans’
stolen in the last three years have beén
accounted for.
“Secondly, we know. now that the
man makes a practice of stealing license
lates from other vehicles and attach-
ing them to his own car when he. goes
out on his holdups.
“And third: the fact that: he’s oper-
ating right around these parts for so
long indicates clearly that he’s some-
one who has’ no fear of being caught.
Someone who may lead a_ perfectly
respectable life so far as his friends
and neigh)ors are concerned. Our job
is to get e-ery officer in New Jersey to
watch rd black Plymouth sedan on
his beat “&d see that the license num-
bers are "ever changed. For, whoever
this man‘\s, it’s safe now to say that
he feels tat by switching license plates
he is perfectly safe so long as he
switches back to his own, legitimate
plates, once his work for the night is
over,
1D URING the following three weeks
there were three more bold
twilight holdups in New Jersey towns
and in every case the bandit managed
to make his getaway in a black Ply-
mouth sedan. But during those three
weeks, Cocozza had not been resting.
He personally got into touch with
scores of police departments through-
out the state, stressing the Pygearay
of checking. on the ownership of all
automobiles that answered the des-
cription of the bandit’s machine.
It was not, however, until early on
the morning of May 2 that Cocozza’s
efforts paid dividends. On that day,
Patrolman Arthur ‘Schroeder was
patrolling his beat in the little city of
Clifton when he saw, a car turn into a
‘driveway at the side of a three-story
frame house in Getty Street,’ in the
city’s residential section.
fficer Schroeder had seen that same
car—it belonged to the family of
Bernard Barth, respectable Clifton
people with whom he was personally
,acquainted—pull into that same drive
dozens of times. But two weeks before
Schroeder, acting on the request of the
Bloomfield police lieutenant, had listed
the license numbers of all black sedans
owned by the people on his beat.
Now, glancing idly at the car as its
youthful driver pulled it to a stop by the
side of the house, he checked those list-
ings.
But suddenly Schroeder looked sharp-
ly up from his book. The license plate
on the car was not the same as it had
been when it had last been parked in
the driveway.
Schroeder watched as young Kurt
Barth, twenty-year-old son of the
family, stepped from the car and en-
tered the house. Then, for the first
time, he realized that young Barth
answered to the description of the man
who fer weeks had been terrorizing
shopkeepers throughout New Jersey.
Within an hour, Cocozza and a score
of Essex County and Clifton officers
had surrounded the house. Cocozza and
England ,approached and rang the front
door bell. Their summons was answered
by_an attractive woman, Mrs. Barth.
The officers inférmed her that they
wanted to speak to her son—on a mat-
ter of grave importance. They were al-
lowed to go, unaccompanied, to the
second floor. There they entered the
outh’s bedroom. He was lying on his
bed partly clothed, sound asleep. On a
chair at his side were two fully loaded
revolvers. :
Barth, taken to Bloomfield police
headquarters, admitted that he had at-
tempted some of the robberies charged
against him, but denied trying to rob
Julius Friedman.
Cocozza didn’t press him on the mur-
der query. Instead, he obtained full
confessions of the other crimes, includ-
ing the attempt to shoot the Patterson
shopkeeper. :
But once young Barth had signed
that confession, Cocozza knew that he
had his case complete in the Friedman
murder, For the bullet which had been
fired in Patterson had come from the
same revolver used in the slaying of
Julius Friedman :
It was that evidence, along with the
clue of the missing newspaper clip,
that convicted Kurt Barth of first de-
ree murder when he went on trial for
fis life four weeks later in the Essex
County criminal court.
On July 22nd of 1934 the Jekyll-Hyde
slayer paid the extreme penalty in the
state prison at Trenton.
67
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[ot AN Michal, Naw geR Belridirs, Ak I-16-SEEG
January 18, 1977
Dear Mr. Espy,y
Enclosed are the copies of the newspaper articles I told you about and I
am very sorry, but they are just terrible. The new copy machine in the
Court House was out of order and I had to use the old one. The Castner
murder one is the worst, but since you already have the article, it is no
| great loss. The copies of the Harden and Andrews stories can be read
with a magnifying glass, so I hope you will be able to make them out.
They are rather long to type up, but if necessary, I can do so.
I believe the article I sent you on the Castner murders tells you every-
thing you need, so I won't go into that further. I went to the Court
House yesterday and looked up the rest of them in the old newspapers on
file, so everything I found follows.
| Jacob Harden: The article enclosed pretty much tells the whole story,
if you can make it out, but I jotted. down the following that might be of
interest to yous. The Warren Journal devoted 24 pages to the trial, which
lasted 14 days. They listed all the testimony, letters of courtship,
letters to his family and the summations. He was sentenced to hang on
June 28, 1860. The June 10 issue states that Harden's counsel made app—
lication for a writ of error to take the case before the Court of Errors
and Appeals. They listed eight objections, but the Chancellors denied
the application. The June 22 issue states the Court of Pardons in Trenton
was to decide upon the application for a commutation of sentence to life
imprisonment. Petitions in favor of commutation were presented carrying
1200 signatures gathered in the county. The Court of Pardons refused to
commute the sentence. Harden then confessed to poisoning his wife with
arsenic on apples, a little at a time. During the trial there was much
testimony to try to prove she had committed suicide by taking the poison,
because she refused to have a doctor while she was ill. He was then
sentenced to hang on July 6, 1860 and he asked the choir of the First
Presbyterian Church’ of Belvidere to sing hymns in the hall to the jail on
the preceding Sunday.
Michael Bolak: The Warren Journal from October, 1888 to July, 1889. His
real name was Michael Bolak, but he was known around Oxford as Michael
Jemmae He was 30 years old, well built, medium size, dark complexioned,
intelligent and had a wife and three week old daughter. He murdered his
friend, Michael Bollenscher (another spelling, Bollingshire) on Sept. 28,
1888. Bollenscher was 5 ft. 3 in. tall and 22 years old. They were boys
together and came to Oxford a few years before, from the same village in
Hungarye They worked together at a mill in Oxford and were seen walking
home from work the night before the murder. The next morning, the body
of Bollenscher was found along the tracks of the Delaware, Lackawanna and
Western Railroad, 3/4 of a mile from the Oxford Tunnel. There were four
bullets (32 calibre) in the body and wounds in the head from stones being
thrown at it. Bolak was arrested because he was the last person seen with
Bollenscher. He was later identified as having purchased a pistol of
English Bulldog pattern, which shot a 32 center~fire cartridge, at the
Oxford Iron Company store on July 27. The gun was later found in a garden
near his home. He was indicted and trial was set for February 5, then
postponed to April 25. He was sentenced to hang and he was, on July 16,
1889, and was buried in Washington, N.eJ. He claimed he was not guilty to
the very end. The paper states this was the first hanging in Belvidere
in 29 years (since Harden in 1860).
on Dam
George Andrews: Again, the enclosed article tells the whole story. It
was taken from the Belvidere Apollo, June 14, 1895 issue. It states that
his confession was released to the newspaper after he was hung, but the
letter was actually written to his counsel. He apologized for not being
truthful with him and confessed he killed her because he was drunk and
thought she had another man. Several photos were taken of Andrews before
and during the execution, although none appeared in the paper. The article
Stated that Andrews was the 5the man and the last man to be hung in Warren
County.
There was another little interesting tid-bit tacked on the end of that
story in the 1895 paper concerning the hangman. His name was Van Hise
and he was called the official hangman. I don't know if that means he
worked for the state or was in business for himself. I know he hung
Bolak and Andrews, but I doubt if he did Harden, since it was 29 years
before. But, at any rate, it said that Andrews was the 42nd. man to be
hung by Van Hise, and the gallows and all the apparatus belonged to him.
That's really a weird way to make a living. I wonder if he had business
cards that read, "Have Noose — Will Travel"?
Our local paper, today, runs a "100 Years Ago" column with information
taken from the old newspapers in the Court House. A few years ago I read
that a lady in Belvidere had died and her claim to fame was that she was
the seamstress that made the black hoods to cover the heads of men to be
hung. Well, I suppose somebody had to do it and anything for a buck, as
they say.
Following are a couple of articles I happened to spot as I was working
my way through the newspapers yesterday. They might help you in your
research in other places.
From Warren Journal = April 6, 1860 issue. George Acker murdered Isaac H.
Gordon at Montville on Oct. 18, 1859. He was hung last Thursday at the
Morris County Court House at Morristown, Ned.
From Warren Journal = Dec. 21, 1888 issue. John Meyers Doremus was hung
Wednesday morning in the corridor of the Bergen County Jail at Hackensack
for the murder of his son, John Bogert Doremus on June 16, 1888. Doremus
was 52 years old, hades a wife, Hester, and 13 year old daughter, Fanny.
It states the wife and daughter came from Elkhart, Indiana to visit him
before he died.
That's all I have to send you and I hope some of it will be helpful to you.
I have asked around, but can find no one who remembers anyone from Warren
County being electrocuted by the State, so I wish you luck with your letter
to the State Prison. Hope to hear from you soon.
ati ;
a per
ReDe#1 Box #231
Belvidere, NoJ. 07823
ru
, BRANDON e sea A WR NLT sAn Naa yD o
BRANDON, George (LAMBLE) elec, Nd (Union); Aug.. 23,, 1921.
LAMBLE, Harold V.
Qeyearsold white man, alias George Brandon, electrocuted,
New Jersey State Prison (Union County) on August 630°
1921, for August 21, 1918, murder of Edith Janney in
vicinity of West Milton Avenue, Rahwaye Her companion,
Arthur Kupfer, also killed. Charles Perchand also indi-
cted, but gave state's evidence. Effirmed on appeals
11), ATLANTIC 346, In listings of miscarriages of justice
jn DEATH PEMNLTY IN AMERICA, page lij3-ll, Bedéau says?
"1918—- New Jersey. George Brandon (alias Harold Lamble).
96 Ne Js Le 23 (192). Sentenced to death for murder
and executed. Widely believed to be innocent; his attor-
ney later disbarred for mishandling the defense. Testimo-
ny of an accomplice, who turned state's evidancg and
Brandon's admission on the witness stand of his previous
et
“eonvictions led to his convictions. Source: New Jersey, ~
_ PUBLIC HEARING ON ASSEMBLY BILLS 33 & 3h, (1958), Second _.
. Day, Pe 2 A (Testimony of J. G. Deardorff, Jre)e" -
Worksheet prepared in New Jersey ~ not written up.
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E MYSTERIES
Riddle of the Wrong Sided Man
were searching for Whitey Mannock.
“Chief,” said the Bon Ton proprietor, “
understand you found a_ new, light green
hat at Hunter’s place. What size was it?”
“Six and three-quarters.”
“What make?”
Parker mentioned a well-known brand.
The Bon Ton proprietor questioned the
sleuth closely on the exact shade of the
hat. Parker indicated the same color in
another hat.
“Tt may interest you to know that I
sold such a hat in size six and three-quar-
ters, to a man in Riverside a couple of
days before the murder.”
“Who was it?”
“Whitey Mannock.”
HITEY MANNOCK! And Parker
had not so much as mentioned the
young man’s name to the Bon Ton pro-
prietor or to any one else but his as-
sistants.
The man was picked up the next day
when he returned to his shack. He was
a shady character, and had been sus-
pected of a_number of petty crimes for
some time. Ellis went to see him. “Chief,”
said one of his assistants, before the de-
tective went in, “he’s limping.”
“Which leg?” asked Parker.
“The right.”
When the sleuth asked Whitey how he
had got the leg injury, the suspect was
evasive. He was vague, too, as to where he
had been on the night of the crime. Parker
was certain he had struck the solution
to the case. Then he had Whitey exhibit
his leg, and he saw that the suspect had
been injured by a_ charge of buckshot.
That changed the picture somewhat,
Mannock admitted he had been in-
jured while robbing a chicken coop on a
farm ten miles from Riverside and the
Hunter property, at the precise time that
the elderly man had been battling with
his assailants.
That story seemed too pat to be true.
It looked as if he were placing him-
self at a point which would have made it
geographically impossible for him to have
been at Hunter’s place. But the detec-
tive checked on the suspect’s story. Sure
enough, the owner of the chicken farm that
Whitey said he had robbed bore out the
alibi in every respect. The farmer had
fired buckshot at the escaping intruder,
but didn’t know whether he had hit him
or not. He hadn’t any idea who the man
had been. “But he lost his hat,” said
the farmer. “Wait, I'll get it.”
What did he produce but an exact
duplicate of the hat that had been left
behind by the Hunter killer! Whitey
Mannock’s story was thus established be-
yond doubt. He had been evasive about
his whereabouts because his alibi involved
him in another crime. It was just one of
those coincidences that could happen only
in actuality.
So Parker was back at the starting point.
Now he went to officials of the Pennsyl-
yania railroad. The trail seemed to be
growing colder. The limping man who
had been traced as far as Camden, had
vanished into thin air, and the sleuth had
no idea as to who his accomplices had
been.
The Detective Chief wanted to know if
the railroad kept records of ticket sales.
They did—for thirty days, which let Park-
er in under the wire. In the Philadelphia
offices of the railroad were the tickets
collected on all trains that had gone from
Jersey City to Camden—-across the Dela-
ware from Philly—and which had passed
through Riverside. Jersey City, over the
JuLy, 1940
(Continued from page 23)
river from New York, was then and is
now the New York terminal for Pennsyl-
vania trains routed to Camden.
Three trains from Jersey City had
stopped at Riverside the day of the crime
—one in mid-afternoon, one early in the
evening, and the other at 11:40 P. M. The
latter interested Parker. The killers could
have arrived on that one just in time to
have gone to the Hunter home and com-
mitted the murder. It would have been,
in fact, both useless and dangerous for
them to have arrived in and tarried around
the little town several hours before the
crime, for they might have been spotted.
A total of five tickets had been sold
from Jersey City to Riverside on the train
that reached the latter town at 11:40.
Examination of the little pasteboards in-.
dicated that four of the five travelers be-
tween the points in question had been
together, and that one of them had pre-
sented the fares for all four—because four
tickets had been punched at once. This
was established when the tickets were
placed on top of one another and the con-
ductor’s punchmark showed up on exactly
the same place in each one, something
that would never happen were the paste-
boards punched separately.
Identifying the trainman from the
punchmark was simple, as each man had
a punch that made an individual mark.
The conductor who had picked up these
tickets was Thomas Dennison, who had
been in charge of the train from Jersey
City to Trenton. There another conduc-
tor had taken over.
Big able bit Dennison proved to be a
shrewd man with a remarkable mem-
ory. Certainly he recalled four young fel-
lows who had ridden on his train the night
of the blizzard. He had good reason to.
They had all got on at Jersey City, wear-
ing new spring suits and hats, and no over-
coats, because of the springlike weather.
But as the train neared New Brunswick,
forty-five minutes out, it ran into the
blizzard that had been raging for some
hours.
Dennison noticed that the quartet, who
sat in the smoking car, were concerned
about the weather. They were comment-
ing on the fact that they should have
worn overcoats. The conductor stopped
and chatted with them for a while. One
of them—a blond fellow—had been a
chain cigarette smoker, lighting one smoke
from the remains of the previous one, and
had taken frequent swigs from a bottle
of brandy.
Parker asked Dennison if he recalled,
by any chance, what brand the liquor had
een.
“Sure,” said the conductor. “Tt was
my brand—and I was sorry I was on duty,
for if I hadn’t been, I’d have taken a
drink.” He named the same make of
brandy that had been in the empty bottle
found in the freight car in Camden the
morning after the murder.
Dennison confirmed Parker’s deductions
as to the stature of the blond man who
had split up from his partners in homi-
cide, by stating that the drinker was be-
low medium height. He was probably in
his late twenties, and seemed far ahead of
his acquaintances in education. “He used
words a mile long, drunk as he was,” said
the conductor. “And once during the trip,
he asked me for a pencil and a piece of
paper. I think he was drawing something,
although I can’t be sure.”
The leader of the quartet had been a
strapping big man, standing about two
inches over six feet, and powerfully built.
He had had sandy hair, and heavy, dark
eyebrows. His face had been tanned, in
contrast to the pale complexions of his
companions, and Dennison had concluded
that he spent considerable time in the
open.
A third member of the quartet had had
a large unsightly mole on the right side
of his neck. The fourth man had been
so nondescript that the conductor had no
recollection of anything about his appear-
ance.
The average detective would have been
well satisfied with such information. But
not Parker. He always operated on the
theory that every person knew more than
he told, no matter how willing he was to
impart information. So he kept prodding
away at the conductor for some little
thing he might have overlooked. Who, for
instance, had handed him the tickets?
Dennison couldn’t remember offhand, but
the County Detective kept pressing away
on that point because the man who had
poten the fare would probably have
“been the leader of the band. Finally, Den-
nison said: “The big fellow with the
squinting eyes gave them to me.”
“The fellow with what?” asked Parker.
“The squinting eyes. The man with the
tanned face. Didn’t I tell you his eyes
squinted? He opened and closed them
more often than usual as if something was
wrong with them. He looked like he
needed glasses.”
This was new information, and vital.
It proved the value of the sleuth’s persis-
tent tactics. This characteristic of the
fellow had been so outstanding in Denni-
son’s mind that he had completely for-
gotten to mention it, as often happens.
Even now the detective wasn’t finished.
He kept prodding away. Finally he left
the conductor, quite satisfied. And no
wonder. The trainman finally got
around to mentioning something else that
he had neglected to state—and that was
that all four of the men had spoken with
a decided German accent. The most no-
ticeable was that of the blond man, he
who had used such big English words.
Parker got to thinking about the man
with light hair. He, of the four, had gone
off by himself. That meant he had _ be-
come more frightened than the others.
He was an educated man, apparently; the
fact that his accent was thick although he
had a good command of the English lan-
guage indicated to Parker that he might
have gone to a good school in Germany,
where English was taught, and that he had
not been long in this country.
Now the sleuth pondered on the reason
why the light-haired passenger had
asked for pencil and paper. Perhaps he
was an artist. People of highly strung
temperament—whether they be composers,
writers or artists—frequently have, when
under the influence of liquor, a strong
urge to express their creative ability. What
would have been more natural, then, than
for the suspect to have felt a desire to
draw when he was highly stimulated.
Accordingly, Parker wrote a_long letter
to the State Department in Washington,
asking if an artist answering the descrip-
tion of the limping blond man had en-
tered the United States from Germany
within the past year.
And now the sleuth returned to Mrs.
Hunter and, together they went over the
books her husband had kept.
Parker was looking for German_names
among the itinerant employees. He felt
that that big fellow with the tanned face
—the seeming leader of the quartet—had
95
—
SSeS
agteteran!
been the one who had served as informa-
tion man relative to the safe in the parlor,
and Washington Hunter’s physical pe-
culiarity.
There were several German names. It
took weeks, but the Detective Chief and
his assistants and the police of other cities
ran every last one down until it was
proved that none of the owners of those
names had been involved in the crime.
Now Parker questioned Mrs. Hunter
again. An extremely difficult task, owing
to the precarious condition of her health
since the murder. It took weeks to get
from her information that could have
been obtained from the average person
in two hours.
The detective asked her one day if she
recalled an employee who had been very
tall with sandy hair, dark eyebrows, and
weak eyes.
““470OU must mean Jim Young,” said
Mrs. Hunter. “He wore glasses. but
sometimes when he didn’t, he’d blink
something awful.”
The woman thereupon proceeded to
describe in detail a man exactly like the
tall fellow who had ridden on Conductor
Dennison’s train.
“Did he talk with an accent?” asked
Parker.
“He seemed to be a German,” answered
the woman, “although Washington and I
never could understand it, with that name
of his.”
In the Hunter books Parker found a
sample of the suspect’s handwriting. In
the space for address, the man had writ-
ten, “New York State.” He had, checking
with known facts disclosed,.been occasion-
ally employed on the Hunter farm, and
had been working there at the time the
doctor from Philadelphia had commented,
in the presence of workmen, about Hunt-
er’s right-sided heart.
The little sleuth wanted to fill in one
gap in the groundwork of his case before
he went any further. He had to know
where the three companions of the limp-
ing blond man had gone after the crime.
There had been a conductor named
Tom Owens, who had taken over Con-
ductor Dennison’s train at Trenton on
what is known as a “split run.” Owens
was located. He clearly recalled the quar-
tet, although not in such detail as Den-
nison. They had alighted at Riverside,
he said, the tall, tanned man leading the
way. That was further proof to Parker
that Jim Young, the one-time Hunter em-
ployee, had been the information man in
the crime.
After Owens’ train had gone to its termi-
nal, Camden, it lay over until 5:35 4. M.,
at which time it started back to Trenton,
picking up milk along the way. At Pal-
myra, a few miles from Riverside, three of
the four men got on again. No ticket
office had been open at that time of morn-
ing, and Owens had been obliged to col-
lect the fares and write out receipts. He
knew one of the quartet had been absent
on the return journey, during which the
trio went to Jersey City. “It was the drunk
who was missing,” he said,
Parker always tried to put himself in the
slace of the criminals. The three who
had stuck together, he concluded, had
been experienced in crime, while the fourth
one probably hadn't. Obviously, they had
started from Manhattan and returned
there after the murder. If they all spoke
with German accents, it was likely that
they lived in a German district. It was
only natural, then, that Ellis Parker and
several of his assistants began to comb
Yorkville, in the East Eighties, New York
City, for that was one of the largest Ger-
man sections outside of Germany itself.
While a systematic though futile hunt
96
was in progress, Parker received electri-
fying news from James Gillespie Blaine,
Secretary of State in Washington, who
had taken a personal interest in the case.
A young man named Otto Keller, son of
the Mayor of Stuttgart, Germany, had
landed in the United States four months
previously, arriving in New York. He had
come to study art, according to his pass-
port application.
Secretary Blaine forwarded a photograph
of Keller. Parker had it copied in regu-
lation rogues gallery size, then shuffled it
among a dozen other pictures of light-
haired criminals, and handed the batch
to Conductor Dennison. The trainman
stopped when he came to Otto Keller’s
picture. “That’s the fellow who was drink-
ing,” he said. “No question of it.”
Parker communicated with the authori-
ties of the German city. He learned that
Otto Keller was the black sheep of a fine,
wealthy and noble family. He learned
for Jim Young and his craven associates
TO NEWSPAPERMEN,
POLICE OFFICIALS AND
DETECTIVES
—if you have in mind any fact
case, with actual photographs,
deemed suitable for publica-
tion in the magazine, please
address the Editor, TRUE DE-
TECTIVE MYSTERIES, The
Chanin Building, 122 East 42nd
St., New York, and ask for our
“Letter of Suggestions,” cover-
ing full information relative to
writing the accounts of fact
crime cases for this magazine.
also that the artistically inclined youth had
reproductions of the family crest sewn in
all of his jackets. Even more arresting
was the report that he had an unquench-
able thirst for life in all its phases and
that he might conceivably be “mixed
up with anybody or anything.”
The sleuth began a two-fold probe de-
signed to find Keller. He ordered a can-
vass of art schools in Manhattan and
tailoring establishments in the Yorkville
district. In two days, they discovered an
art school that he had attended, but met
with the discouraging news that the Ger-
man had been absent since the day Wash-
ington Hunter met his end. He had given
no address to the school authorities,
but several former classmates said they
were of the opinion that he had been liv-
ing in Yorkville.
The detective intensified his search of
tailoring establishments. At length he
came across one on 81st Street, near Sec-
ond Avenue, that had pressed expensive
clothing for a blond young man who wore
a heraldic device inside his jacket. But
they had no record of the man’s name or
address. The owner of the clothes always
brought them in himself, which indicated
to the New Jersey man-hunter that Keller
had lived near by. At least that would
narrow the search to a few blocks.
“When was this person in last?” Parker
asked.
“Day before yesterday.”
“Sober or drunk?”
“Now that you mention it, he did have
the odor of liquor on his breath.”
That was significant. Keller had prob-
ably been drinking harder than ever since
the murder, for a crime of such magni-
tude, into which the youth had_ possibly
been innocently drawn, would have
weighed heavily on his mind. Which
meant that he would perhaps be found
in a barroom not very far from the
tailor shop.
Parker by this time had had several
copies of Keller’s photograph struck off,
and his men took these to saloons within
a few blocks of the tailoring establish-
ment. One bartender of a place on Second
Avge, between 82nd and 83rd Street,
said:
“Sure; that’s Otto the artist. He comes
in here regular. Matter of fact, you just
missed him.”
“Does he come alone, or with other
people?”
The bartender laid down a glass he had
been polishing. ‘Funny thing about that
boy,” was the answer. “I think he’s in
trouble. He first started comin’ here ’bout
five months or so ago, just after he come
from the old country. One night he was
drinking, and a couple of other fellows
come in. I didn’t like their looks, but
they took up with Otto. He went out with
‘em. They used to come in together after
that. But lately they’re not around.”
“And so?”
“So I asked Otto where his friends are.
He looks at me kind of funny, and says
don’t ever mention ’em again.”
“What were their names?”
“Jim was the only one I ever heard.
I figure they got him in trouble ’cos he’s
broodin’ somethin’ awful.”
“This Jim, what did he look like?”
“A regular giant he was; over six feet.
Why, he got in a fight here one night
a couple of months back and licked three
guys. All they did to him was break his
eye-glasses.”
“Did he get new glasses?”
The bartender shrugged. “Search me,”
he said. “He was only in once after that.”
“Did he squint his eyes?”
The bartender leaned closer to Parker.
“Say, mister,” he said, “what you askin’
me all these questions for? You know
more about that man named Jim than I
do, Sure he squinted his eyes—somethin’
fierce.”
It was increasingly clear to the sleuth
that the three others had roped Otto
into the crime. But for what reason?
He couldn’t figure that one out—just yet.
| ones! night, Parker was sitting in the
rear of the saloon, toying with a glass
of ale, when in walked Keller. he
young man was intoxicated. As it hap-
pened, he stumbled toward a table right
near the detective and lurched into a
chair. He ordered brandy—the expensive
brand that had been in the bottle found
in the freight car. Parker was piling up
mountains of circumstantial evidence
against the day that he would make an
arrest and confront a clam-like suspect.
At closing time, the detective trailed the
young man. He lived in a small apartment
in an expensive place a few blocks from
the saloon, Next afternoon, when the man
went out, Parker had the superintendent
of the house let him examine the artist’s
quarters. On a desk was a letter, ad-
dressed to Keller. The handwriting was
familiar. Parker concluded it was that of
Jim Young, for it compared with that sus-
pect’s penmanship, as taken from the
Hunter records.
Opening the envelope, the detective
read the following message:
Otto, We didn’t get no money in
Jersey that night and we are hard
up. Unless you come across we will
write to Germany and disgrace your
father the mayor—Jim.
TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTERIES
It was clear
drawn in Opsibe
his confe
mail!
The sleuth «
York Police De
cided to apprehe
up outside his
left it the next
quarters, he put
But when Park
exactly what he
even pointing 0)
injuring his rig!
man threw up
would confess.
E had met
whose nam
saloon one nig
had told Parke
that he accon
where they kn
went, he said,
was to be comn
When Young
dow, Keller sai
betrayed but t]
out. The lead
to keep him qu
back stairs lea
while the other
the alarm tot)
heard Washing
stairs.
He stood by
and attacked
with the farme
chisel, while t)
the astonishin
behind. They
shots unless 1
noise would al
struggle, Youn
the chisel into
JULY, 1940
“™
r had prob-
n ever since
such magni-
iad possibly
vould have
nd. Which
s be found
from the
had several
struck off,
oons within
g establish-
e on Second
83rd Street.
He comes
et, vou just
with other
zlass he had
about that
ink he’s in
i here “bout
ter he come
ight he was
her fellows
looks, but
‘nt out with
gether after
round.”
friends are.
y, and says
ever heard.
le ’cos he’s
i x feet.
e night
licked three
is break his
search me,”
after that.”
to Parker.
you askin’
You know
Jim than I
—somethin’
the sleuth
‘oped Otto
iat reason?
t—)ust yet.
ting in the
vith a glass
ller. The
As it hap-
table right
ied into a
> expensive
ottle found
s piling up
evidence
d make an
> suspect.
trailed the
| apartment
locks from
en the man
erintendent
the artist’s
letter, ad-
writing was
vas that of
th that sus-
from the
detective
MYSTERIES
{t was clear now. JIxeller had been
drawn in on the crime by Jim Young and
his confederates for the purposes of black-
mail!
The sleuth consulted with the New
York Police Department, and it was de-
cided to apprehend Keller. He was picked
up outside his favorite saloon when he
left it the next night. Taken to Head-
quarters, he put on a show of innocence.
But when Parker slowly outlined to him
exactly what he had done after the crime,
even pointing out that he had fallen twice,
injuring his right leg the second time, the
man threw up his hands and said he
would confess.
E had met Young and two other men
whose names he did not know in the
saloon one night, just as the bartender
had told Parker. They suggested to him
that he accompany them to Riverside
where they knew four lively girls. He
went, he said, not realizing that a crime
was to be committed.
When Young began to chisel the win-
dow. Keller said he realized he had been
betrayed but that it was too late to back
out. The leader stuck a gun in his ribs
to keep him quiet. He stood guard at the
back stairs leading down to the kitchen
while the others opened the safe, and gave
the alarm tothe three criminals when he
heard Washington Hunter coming down-
stars.
He stood by while the others came in
and attacked Hunter. Young grappled
with the farmer and stabbed him with the
chisel. while the two other thugs slugged
the astonishingly strong old man from
behind. They didn’t want to fire any
shots unless they had to, for fear the
noise would alarm neighbors. During the
struggle, Young reached over and jabbed
the chisel into Hunter’s right side. “There,”
he snarled. “You thought I didn’t know
where your heart was, didn’t you, you
old 1
When the aged man crumpled to the
floor, Young and his two co-conspirators
left. Keller just stood there, frozen with
fear, his mind clouded by drink. He ran
out when he heard Mrs. Hunter coming
down the stairs.
After the crime, Young visited the
artist and told him they hadn’t succeeded
in getting any money out of the safe be-
fore he had given the warning. Then the
reason for roping the artist in on the
crime became clear. They wanted him to
turn over to them, regularly, part of his
generous monthly allowance from his
family to seal their lips to his participa-
tion in a murder. “You'll get caught and
go to the gallows,” the tall bandit had
told him. “But we’re old hands at this;
we can manage to escape.”
Boastful, Young thereupon told Keller
how he had for years worked as an itin-
erant farmhand in order to get the lay
of the land in rural localities. “Then,” he
went on, “I’d come over here and get
help and we’d knock off a soft place. No-
body ever suspects me because I look like
a farm worker.”
It was decided to permit the artist
to roam at liberty, closely shadowed, of
course, so that his absence from his usual
haunts wouldn’t make the killers suspic-
ious. This strategy bore fruit a week later
when a shifty individual with a mole on
the right side of his neck stopped into the
Second Avenue saloon and inquired for
Otto. The man was trailed to Keller’s
apartment. When he left there, he
was shadowed by New York police
while Parker himself questioned Keller.
“Young sent him,” said the latter. “He’s
another one of them. They’re still after
blackmail money.”
The New York police ascertained that
the artist’s visitor was one Charles Braun,
a notorious safe burglar. Their records
disclosed that he had been a_ long-
time associate of another man of similar
ilk—one Charley Mueller. But Mueller,
like Young, was nowhere around.
Another week passed. Then a giant of
a man with eye-glasses that looked to be
new because their silver rims shone bright-
ly in the sunlight was seen going into
Braun’s rooming house. Parker and the
New York police pounced on them when
they came out together an hour later.
Hardened criminals both, they wouldn’t
talk. But Otto Keller, their victim,
talked plenty. He took the witness stand
against them when they went on trial for
their lives in Burlington County. Conduc-
tor Dennison identified them. The testi-
mony of Dennison and Keller, coupled
with other evidence detailed in this chron-
icle, including identification of Young as
a former worker by the widow of the
wrong-sided man. resulted in the convic-
tion of both defendants. They died on
the gallows; Keller was given a_ short
prison term because he had turned State’s
evidence and had been an unwilling party
to the murder.
F the four men involved, only Charley
Mueller evaded the law. But he didn’t
live long to enjoy his freedom. A year
after his two co-conspirators had paid with
their lives, there was a barroom braw] in a
South Side saloon in Chicago. Somebody
pulled out a gun and a bullet went wild.
Through the brain of Charley Mueller it
went, seemingly an agent of justice, de-
layed, to be sure, but inexorable.
Note: In consideration for the person in-
volved, the actual name of one of the charac.
ters has been withheld in the foregoing story
and a fictitioux one substituted, namely Whitey
Mannock—-EpitTon.
ay wes
t'S
won
ape
yee
€. &
Wy wae QO
eaters 3 .
9 0
JULY, 1940
Pepsi-Cola makes
every party perfect.
It's the bigger drink
with the finer flavor.
12-ounce bottle, 5¢—
or in handy 6-bottle
home cartons.
‘BOTILES;
|
97
i
DAUWN, Charles, he NseQ M&, mo
ESPITE THEIR great difference in ages, New Jersey’s Burling-
ton County Chief of Detectives Ellis Parker, who was only
thirty, and Riverside produce farmer Washington Hunter,
‘ who was nearly seventy, liked to go fishing together. They'd
start off. in the late afternoon and carry their dinner with
them. Both knew the best fishing spots and they’d arrive at some
secluded little lake just about the time the fish were starting to,
feed and stay there until after dark.
Sometimes there wasn’t much action. Then they’d just sit and
wait and talk. More than once the conversation turned to Hunter’s
habit of keeping all his money—it was reputed to be a fortune of
one hundred thousand dollars—in a wall safe in his house.
“I’m in the police business,” Parker would tell his older friend,
“and I say you’re asking for trouble. There’s a lot of people in
‘ these parts who would kill a man for less than you’ve got stashed
away. You ought to put that money in the bank.”
On such occasions the elderly produce farmer would usually
check his bait, throw it back into the water and finally drawl,
“You mind your own business, young fellow. I’ve lived a long
time; and-I know what I’m doing.”
Sometimes he’d reach into the brown bag where his dinner was
and take an apple in his left hand. While Parker watched, the
produce farmer would crush it to a pulp between the fingers of
his one hand.
Then he’d say, “See that? Old Wash can do the same thing to
a man. Folks around here know it. I’m my own bank.”
The young detective knew it wouldn’t do any good to say more.
Old Wash Hunter was a regular Abe Lincoln type. He stood well
over six feet in his stocking feet; he was as wiry as any rail splitter;
and a lifetime of outdoor work had made him a physical specimen
in a class by himself. The only thing that could have been called
ly Nd le- 3-1901 & YOUNG,
a RORGEG! 3 Lda LOO Lu Mot sy Oil ic tL"» oe 9 LYVVo
See . ol ee Tne nnn vNUnrnnTEN vEreren ett wn Twente veneer a
. . - ’
irregular about him was the freak fact that his heart was on his
right side. He didn’t talk about this to many people and it cer-
tainy made no difference in his life span; but he did allow scientists
from nearby Princeton University to examine him from time to
time because they paid him a nice fee.
Despite Parker’s knowledge that his friend was courting trouble
he was surprised to be awakened at one o’clock one bitterly cold
March morning to be told that Washington Hunter had been
murdered in his home.
Information .at the Riverside house was scant. Mrs. Hunter,
who had been bed-ridden for some years, was the only other
person present in the house at the time of the crime. She had
been awakened by noises in the kitchen and she had managed to
get downstairs.
“I saw a tall man standing over Washington,” she told De-
tective Parker. “I was weak and I fainted. The only thing I can
tell you is that. I’m positive I never saw the:man who killed my
husband before. When I came to he was gone. I did manage to
get to the phone and call the police.”
The detective examined the safe Where.he had been told Wash-
ington Hunter kept his fortune. Only one compartment had been
opened. Next he turned to the battered body of his old fishing
partner.
“Old Wash was as strong as a mule,” he told the coroner when
he arrived. “No one man could have handled him. I think the
one Mrs. Hunter saw was just standing there making sure Wash
was dead while the others—there must have been two or three
more—were rifling the safe.”
The physician’s report showed that almost all the deepest
wounds had been inflicted on Washington Hunter’s right side.
“That could mean that whoever did (Continued on page 9)
fishing partner.
~P
Here's living proof that
you should never rob-or
khillman ace detective’s
By MARVIN ROBERTS °
this kn
Tight sic
could m
here.”
One t!
Was evid:
Most of t
eleven o
There
and these
derers ha
from the
one of the
Same rout,
One set
the opposi
Out into th,
“ heir Si
one man y
wasn't heay
since they a,
Man was ry;
haps he Wi
others. That
him 0ing in
Another ¢}
he followed
was unsure 0}
farms,” the d
vious he didn
each time he
Other Way.”
JM€se prints.
POint just belo
tracks of the Pe
reasoned that 1)
ng freight at t
not more than
house but the fk
least three miles
had
Seer
around two O'cla
murder,
tli sx
Fag ee ee =
ae ee
oe ee a Tater FR FST Ft teen ns
gowae devine: <>. spaiaong'y
ee
AS atten me
112 ELLIS PARKER
and I figured I could get some information from the
ticket-scllers, but I was spared the trouble.
While we were talking Owen came in. As Gillingham
had said he had a good memory, not as good as Denni-
son’s, but when Dennison described the four Riverside
passengers, he remembered them at once. “Sure,” he
said, “You punched their tickets and I collected them.
One of the four was drunk.”
“Did you see any of them the next morning on the
milk train?”
“TI could tell better if I looked over the tickets. I kind
of connect people with tickets.”
Gillingham got down the tickets for the morning run
of the milk train and Owen fumbled them over. I was
pretty certain now, but I wanted confirmation of my idea
that they had gone back to New York. Suddenly he
stopped.
“This is it,” he declared. “See these tickets. These
are the kind of tickets we make out when a passenger pays
his fare on the train. They got on at Perkins without any
tickets and paid their fare. But there’s only three tickets
here—oh, now I remember! One of them, the drunk in
the brown suit, wasn’t with them when they came back.”
Well, that was the answer. But all I had was descrip-
tions of three of the murderers and the knowledge that
one of them worked for Hunter, and I knew they lived
in New York. I didn’t know who they were, but I knew
they were all Germans and that Hunter’s former em-
ployee spoke with a German accent. You see how these
things work out? Every bit of information you get enables
you to eliminate someone else till you have just one pcr
THE LEFT-SIDED MAN : 113
son who is the only one left and he must be the guilty
party.
I went back to Mrs. Hunter with what I had learned.
“Which of your hired men spoke with a German ac-
cent?” J asked her.
“There were two or three of them,” she told me after
thinking it over. .““There was Aifred Hartmann, he got
married and went to Secaucus to live. And there was Otto
Kohlhauser and James Young. I don’t know what be-
came of them.”
I wired to Secaucus to have them check up on Hart-
mann, but I didn’t think they would find anything
wrong. A married man with a family may commit a
crime, but it will be a crime of sudden violence, not a
planned robbery with a gang. Myself I went on to New
York and called on Captain Titus of the Central Office
force to ask him whether he had any information on
James Young and Otto Kohlhauser.
I don’t suppose you remember Titus, but he was a
wonderful character, a sort of living Rogue’s Gallery,
with the name and picture of every crook in New York
hled away in his mind. Kohlhauser he didn’t know, but
Young was on his books as “Jimmy the Slugger” and had
4 record. Titus got a picture of him out; it corresponded
almost exactly with Conductor Dennison’s description of
the tall, sandy-haired man with the heavy eyebrows.
Titus sent out his men to run Young in, which wasn’t
difficult, as he had been making rather free with his
moncy that week. At the same time they picked up two
pals of his, Otto Keller and Charles Braun, and when I
sw them at the Tombs I was sure I had the right parties,
eek i
: 4 1} it opily
aera : °T-SI aps
heen ” ELLIS PARKER THE LEFT-SIDED MAN 115 ii
ty it H | ‘ 3 é é g eA
| | Pia | for Braun had a mole on the side of his neck, and Keller something he wanted to hide from them temporarily. ene
nee was a blonde fat-faced lad with a little nose and a brown You might account for it by saying that he had taken ans
ret} | suit. I didn’t have the fourth man yet, but he would come something from the Hunter house that he wanted to nay
at) ae seal Se -o ns
obese in time. The next day I got Dennison and Owen over # conceal from the rest, but we know that they divided up Ae
ee | i in New York. Both of them positively identified the three the proceeds of the robbery, because they were all to- Mee
eh ' i . . . . re. 4 istic - W 6 by ei of »Y N : a
hil’ as the passengers for Riverside on the night of the mur. eS aM op afterward. Therefore it must have eh
{ Wer s der. I got out extradition papers and took them back to been something that had no connection with the robbery va
' | ae : Jersey itself, something that he had before the robbery, or some- : ee
1 : | Right there I ran into a snag. None of them would thing that came up during it. Now the only change in the de
i F eG ies a x E . % % . -
Mee talk. You sce the difficulty I was in; I could prove they status of the gang that took place during the crime was
| i} ti were in Riverside, but not that they had a thing to do this—Keller was drunk on the train coming down from
f i 4 with the crime. Mrs. Hunter couldn’t be positive about New York, but they were so long about the robbery that
: it 0 her Mentiiddion'of'ang of thea! ead they wonldn'teixe | ne _ have sobered up. It seems to me that he must
if ie | ‘- : , 2 id t .
rk ee me achance to check up on stories. Just kept mum. a a eta rae him tpat he realized was danger-
qaiqe li “What are you going to do with them?” asked Dean ng 1¢ didn’t realize it til! the whiskey began to wear
ie ates : Mt,
| | 4 after one session. “But wl ee
rn iah “Make them talk by hammering at the unnatural de- e ul — could that be?” Dean asked,
Be ee ‘tail. Do you remember how they got away from the ' "I don't Know. But we have an indication, I think.
ant: a ewan hie eh | Keller talks like an educated man. Do you notice the way
‘eres ee : he speaks FE ishias i
Aq | “They just ran as fast as they could, Young, Braun and a ne very well, put with a Guser accent
t the fourth man down the road, and Keller across the ‘mea lot ol long words as though he'd learned it in school.
Bea Felde * Bean avswiecka It wouldn’t surprise me any to discover that he’s a much
pb ay ; ‘j ; : . ; ey ,
OL | “That was the unnatural detail. Why did Keller go more important person than the tramp he seems. I’m
ais across country? He wanted to escape from the scene asf Kolng to get in touch with the authorities at Washington
t ee c ‘ Z z ‘ in ay - = bd ”
‘| | the crime, but so did they. The only possible reason 15 poe setae they have any information on him.
: oe ae that he also wanted to get away from the other three.” : : . i mh was the break of the case. Within a
y ig’ ; ; p 7. P ” OUp x 4
Vi , } | “But he joined them later in New York. : | <4 of weeks I had my answer. The State Department
Pigs] “True. Therefore, whatever the reason was that drove reported that Otto Keller, the son of the Mayor of Stutt-
a a ‘ { e fi > . * . . e
ii | | him away from his partners, it must have been cleared up A Kes of the biggest cities c° Germany, and a member
fa |. by the time he got back to New York. Therefore it wasn't ie . A family, had come to this country three or four
4 aed . : oF months efor . Fase
BU fa something that would keep them apart permanently, but ¢ and been lost sight of. About the same
ae Shae
mere
mad Lant'S) unch
4 | " (4
yd OB:
ha fone Pays the Penal by. LEGRAND,
Se ee
The Noose Slipped and Brown's} Pormorrow. we cordially in-
“ Neck ben: vite the public to Inepect and
Was Nob The witness the display in our new
store. Remember the number,
150 NEWARK AVENUE.
a Larger stocks, more room
sot James K. Brown, who| and a convenient shopping Icbrunry 1oth, Only
alot ‘and killed Fotiovens ts Charice | centre for the public; none but 2 .
< Mebharat in Hoboken in én-an lar pape Pr sai x > : 3
c e@@ert te eecape arrest, was ies ne nee pase ad Best eres utter
2a the Muteon County Jail thie morn-: P FE I . : Ch SE eet :
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menos’ Van Hise released the'morrow,
sweight that polled Brown into reeds? ucc'et 1 cabn REAR Oe Pure Leaf Lard
4
ae Hits MAI. E Is FOR
‘Scene at the Scaffold—One
Te eas
10:0% o'clock. The body shot| pewest Seotenss all elt rs,
air buts short distance, | worth 89... 0. + «feos
[Pure cone Lard
ALS 522
op eouninan eae —- well knitted and
eee Man, black, werth 15¢.—P.
‘os pemmemmmmm "= (| Butterine if You W
nae Hats, paniene were 69¢,
stylee Ten 25! Fine Dairy ‘Rolls. os =
fine qual-
he colors and
Ey FIRST- PRIZE Print
ity, at—Palr,. 2 0 3 5 8
octet se 142 Newark A
y Rengmas hed “not left) 4) line of Ladies’ Black cf (Qcl
: : | pie iene shee a
ea age
wing poea pect endweit [[)C
PLEASE NOT
Have you enews dlepiay.of N “Process” or ‘Renovated’
[flowers forthe @pring? died bs (Nee | Sold Here!
INFA TS’ WEAR, | | :
ihaden cate in all the latest Boe
ae Nomad hy AMERICA
be 3 Gorm gabratlared or tek silk inet- ADC
forthe money. - + te Porlmutters.
at Peeareege gee 25t ~ @ © *_ Qn the whole, we may count
_ signs and geod mate tunate if we only find oleomargarine in th
BIBS,VEILA. BOOTERS win, well mode, ‘(0 teration ‘in our butter, for in these latter
found ways of bleaching and disinfecting
1 Hee of Embroidered ‘eed ‘49 rancid and unpalatable butter so that it m
: the market with any color, odor, or taste
1 Hine sor AU. qQ,|ALL SUCH PROCESSES ARE DANG
PE Mire eee i Slawioee, bor S00, 2s (39 HURTEUL TO THE CONSUMER. *
spaemotically. |” iB trina coventry Severe: : --MARCUS P; HATFIE LD,
($042 o'clock “Dr, MoOM| =. —— | Brown aatty. bang-{
airs brows ws wore| Bay atthe “OM Reliable” ro dena came te oe Brows PROCL
ouf. | with the shee ta ret deb Flew M A
that r.) arms
one the | Br the ve fe about his ber ae or se
will see taat-t one.” v the black cap upon his :
asl Sheriff abate fe ioe Brown ‘if march to the death chamber (hen
Burnett @8- Tne nad anything further to sey, and rted.
; that th had stopped | the doomed man uttered his last words | £06 e'chock the door at the end KHEREAST
ait that there’ was ; hia side w che execution ward, swung | men of Jersey Cit
2 ne ye Sey ooest all Pars ea eet he open and Brown entered the d-ath/ day of
chamber. His eyes met the grim scaf-| a comtract with
fold that Waa erected by. Hangmen| a supply of pure
Van. Hise and his song yeeterday.| which contract
‘| Trere was @ perceptible movement of | the acquiring. by
Brown's Adam's apple, which Jumped | reservoirs, pipe
ie a | Rervously, bat mustering hie courege! water rights
$e2 he pressed on with hte eyes Axed upod | therees
petted the crucifix that was held by. Rev! witn 3 supply of
Father McGiniey, Fath: r Foye walked arty miliion
oa. the other side of the doomed man supply. water
‘feciting prayers on the way. eties, rights of
- About Brown's neck Was a crucifh. | oo uary te
which he requested be civen to Fathee) oy aittion
McGinley for his faithful attemmlame |e eo toe the
| Brown :siso remenbered Warden sul. wind SoAteo ean
yAlva ARS . racte nie: and jeft.he-
< ‘igned statement thousand gollare
{
Bs
Ape
.
x
cb sembis
BROWN, James, black, hanged Jersey City, New Jersey, February 9, 1900.
_ i Newark \e
. baeept Saturdays,
GRAND
ING DAY!)
and Brown’s
vite the public to Inspect and
roomie bis Sie Bog witness the display in our new
af ony store. Remember the number,
"Secor Faloted— Brown's Last/ 180 NEWARK AVENUE.
Hour and Crime HeCoamitied
Mie Jamee K.° Rrown, who
@et and klied Policeman Charice
@icbbar@: ta Hobowen in 180K, jn an
efor
ae the
and a convenient shopping
centre for the public; none but
ee @bcape arrest... was banged |
Budeoe County Jail thie morn- ; prices. For a starter we quote |
afew of many makes for to-
ay Ce
(2¢
; ' Be ‘ ed Brown into Setes
ye air but © short distance, ue
ped pot witty Line of Ladies’ Black Mitsé
knitted an
cartons of Vieleta, perfect
ee eee
> ‘To-morrow. we cordially in*
Larger stocks, more room
-THIS|
Your Opportug
Ie Sree NEW LAID BGGS, ¢ :
|upete-date goods at eds! Best Creamery Bitter
“ Mlattreameuchvese
Pure Leaf-Lard -~.
Pure Compound: Lard
A | 2m ¢ >.
3] Butterine if You We
som Oh Fine Dairy Rolls —.
geste (Q¢| Fancy FIRST-PRIZE Prntg
%
Wines,
made, &
+ 4 br wy Sy all a = ‘eer §9¢
rregiery tom ie
Have you coon ti Gouay of
L} Flowers for the Spring? if not,
don't fall te de se.
INFANTS WEAR
Sao Di
im AQ
infants’
or cash
* aa, cabeeaed or ae oP
A new line of
a 304
8 Sweclt cd nate Pepa re.
moots le the sear fetare. Wasted fer oo
PLEAS NOTE
-No''Process” or ‘*Rénovated
Sold Here!
mara i
142 Newark
4
a
e. @. * On. the whole, we may coun
tunate if we only find oleomargarine in th
teration in our: butter, for in these latter
found ways of bleaching and disinfecting
rancid and unpalatable butter so that it
the market with any color, odor, of taste
ALL SUCH PROCESSES. ARE DAN
HURTFUL TO THE CONSUMER. *
& eEMARC Us PH ATEIE LD
octal waaay? Stuce the + tare of Mane |
Baby Face had said often that he
would kill to avert capture. Narrow-
eyed, with lips set, he blazed away—and
killed.
W. Carter Baum, Chicago Department
of Justice agent, didn’t have time to
draw. Nelson’s bullets ripped into him
and killed him. Agent J. C. Newman
of Chicago fell wounded as he was draw-
ing his gun. Constable Carl Christian-
sen slumped over, shot.
Nelson turned and fired toward the
other men racing into the resort, and
then ran to the federal men’s car. He
dragged out Baum’s body and threw it
to the ground, and then hurled out the
two wounded men. He started the car
and sped away in it.
The wounded officers and the other
men identified the gunman as Nelson,
and all northern Wisconsin was combed
for the elusive killer and the other van-
ished mobsters. Hundreds watched for
the big car Baby Face had used—but
it was found abandoned. Nelson had
fled on foot after getting many miles
away from Spider Lake. There was
new hope of finding him.
The next afternoon an Indian, Ollie
Catfish, found a young man at the door
of his cabin near Lac du Flambeau. The
young man showed a pistol and said:
“Take me to town.” The Indian calmly
answered: “No.”
The newcomer took possession of the
cabin, showed three pistols, two of them
taken from the federal car, threatened
the Indian and his wife ,with death if
they didn’t obey him. He put out the
Indian’s fire, upsetting a kettle of maple
sap, to prevent the smoke from aiding
searchers. He stayed in the cabin two
days. Then he donned the Indian’s ex-
tra clothing and forced Ollie to accom-
pany him on a search for food. He came
upon a car, stuck up a man fishing near-
by and got the car keys from him and
raced away. in the machine.
Ollie told his story in town and the
army of hunting officers knew the elu-
sive Baby Face had beaten the law
again,
Nelson rejoined members of the mob
in the Twin Cities and they went to Chi-
cago. They came out into the open
again on June 28, looting the Merchants
National Bank of South Bend, Ind., of
$28,000, killed a policeman, shot two
bank officials and two bystanders,
Washington officials prepared anew
to run down Nelson. Slayer of a fed-
eral agent, he was marked for certain
| Trapping New Jersey’s Sheik
[Continued from page 27]
in Clifton, Passaic County. A youth
alighted, locked the door and sauntered
away.
Patrolman Arthur C. Schroeder, swing-
ing a nightstick as he walked along the
opposite side of the street, wondered
who had stayed out to that late hour.
But there was nothing to arouse his sus-
picions and he continued down the block
and on along the remainder of his beat.
Just about twenty-four hours later,
Patrolman Schroeder, again on his beat,
saw the same car draw up. A youth
alighted, locked the door and strolled
away.
Curious, Schroeder followed on the
other side of the street. The youth
tutned into a side street and the officer
watched him enter a modest little one-
family house a block and a half from
where he parked the machine.
Patrolman Arthur C. Schroeder (above) of Clifton, became suspicious when
he saw different license plates on this black sedan on different days. His
suspicions led directly to the capture of the sheik bandit.
54
capture or death by guns. “Nelson is |
a rat, and he’s kill-crazy,” officials said.
“Take no chances with him.” That
meant, in effect, “Kill Nelson!”
It was pointed out that Martin Dur-
kin, who killed Federal Agent Edward
Shanahan, years before in Chicago, had
roamed the United States, equally elu- ,
sive, but the government had tracked
him down, Durkin had escaped death
in a state court and had got 35 years
in prison.
But on the night of July 22, 1934, there
was an indication of the more likely fate
of Baby..Face Nelson—when the life of
John Dillinger was blasted out by offi-
cers’ gues in a federal trap. Nelson, the
new Public Enemy No, 1, faced the pos-
sibility of a life sentence for murder in
Wisconsin or a federal trial and sentence
to death on the gallows. But the rattle
of gunfire in Lincoln avenue, Chicago,
July 22, indicated to Baby Face that a
more decisive and swift ending to his
career of crime might come, any time,
The young man who married and
reared two children, and had a choice of
an honorable life to provide for them,
chose instead to rob and to kill—and,
like John Dillinger, chose the likelihood
of sudden and dishonorable death as one
of the country’s worst criminals,
Bandit
Ea ce SS Mee Ea)
“Now I wonder why he parks his car
so far from his home?” Schroeder asked
himself,
He retraced his steps and noted a “1E”
license plate on the car. The “E”
meant the plate had been issued to a
resident of Essex County. A Passaic
County resident would have a “P” plate,
“Strange,” the officer said to himself.
“T wonder what it’s all about?”
The opportunity for learning what it
was all about came sooner than he an-
ticipated.
Early the morning of May 2, the same
car drew up, the same youth alighted,
locked the door and sauntered away.
Schroeder crossed over. He saw the
car now bore a “P” license plate!
Trapped At Last
G CHROEDER telephoned police head-
quarters and soon Detectives Shackle-
ton and Marchione joined him. After a
hurried conference, the trio proceeded
to the little house at 86 Getty avenue.
They decided among themselves that
the detectives would guard the outside
of the house, in the event of possible
flight of their unknown quarry, while
Schroeder would go inside.
A woman opened the door and
Schroeder dashed upstairs.
The young man he wanted was in bed
but as soon as the officer dashed in, the
youth, fully clothed except for his shoes
and coat, jumped to his feet and plunged
through the doorway.
Schroeder reached out to seize him as
he sprinted by, but the youth slipped out
of his vest and leaped down the stair-
way. From the vest in the officer’s
hands fell a set of brass knuckles,
Instantly Schroeder was in pursuit,
The fugitive darted through the front
door, spied’ Shackleton a few feet away,
turned in
house, anc
he saw M:
circled th:
revolver @
Unheed'
toward th
the arms
quickly o
“Té I he
your bra
gasped.
He wa
quarters.
“Hand
we can |
He insis
some pe!
buried t!
way betv
When
headqua:
noted.
P5930!
It was
Essex
authoriti:
The pr
22, alias
record fc
Subject
adamant.
about th:
. Friedmar
of him.
Five h
his tune.
Detective
fession.
Yeah,
“But |
mean to
He x
his conf
as part!
holdups.
alone «
brothe:
job. 7
the
ame forward
\t clicked.
the past few
ips in which
! in a black
t said, there
black sedan
edman store,
ictims
detectives be-
Tr recent tele-
where a black
he bandit car,
visiting each.
tims of these
Jetectives in-
‘er a thirty-
» several vic-
d at the deli-
uben in Mor-
miles from
een held up
before by a
“ned, had re-
ig a heavy
1. The gun-
iot that went
wall where
ick,” Ruben
nting to an
behind the
ocket knife.
leaden slug,
| pocketed
“he asked.
_ the store,”
im and took
“TECTIVE
ign
ianatandt irs
The cross indicates where Julius
Friedman fell dead after chasing
his assailant from his store. The
bandit’s car was parked at almost
the exact spot occupied by the
roadster in this photo.
his license number. It was P5930. But
the cops who handled the case told me
this didn’t mean anything because they
traced the number and they found out
it had been stolen up in Passaic County
sometime ago.”
A notation of the number was made
and the detectives sped back to the Essex
County prosecutor’s office.
A ballistics expert was called in. He
compared the slug Coccozza had re-
covered with the one that had been found
over Friedman’s heart. Both had been
fired from the same .38 caliber revolver!
A new check on the teletype reports
of the earlier holdups disclosed the same
damning number, P5930, had been used
on a fleeing black sedan.
But what was still more startling, as
this checkup was being made, four days
after the Friedman murder an alarm
for a black sedan bearing the same li-
cense plates flashed over the wires. Its
driver was wanted for the holdup of a
haberdashery in Boonton, a score of
miles away, in which the bandit had
first asked for a size fifteen shirt!
The detectives now had something
definite, yet paradoxically intangible, to
work upon. They knew they had to
find a medium-sized youth whose shirt
was size fifteen and who was well-spoken
but dangerous, and who drove a black
sedan bearing the number P5930.
The net was slowly but inexorably
closing in on the Friedman slayer.
There was one puzzling factor, how-.
ever. In some instances, three bandits
had been reported. In others, only one.
Did Friedman’s killer have a couple of
accomplices who had gotten away on
ADVENTURES
ial
foot? The victims of most of the hold-
ups had reported that a lone youth had
staged the robberies.
Then, seventeen days after the Fried-
man murder, a lone youth stalked into
a. delicatessen store in Broad street,
Bloomfield, only a few blocks from the
Friedman shop, and relieved the terri-
fied proprietor of a few dollars.
The youth, the detectives agreed, was
the Friedman killer. He was getting
entirely too bold and daring and, with
one murder already charged against
him, it was hard to tell to what extremes
he might go.
Suspect Escapes!
ND then came a new indignity. Over
in North Arlington, a few miles
away in Bergen County, two police
officers were seated in their parked scout
car early one morning when they saw
an automobile flash by at break-neck
speed. The officers promptly gave chase
and finally overtook the machine after
a pursuit of several miles.
The youth behind the wheel, as well
as his companions, two young men and
a girl, meekly listened to the officers’
scolding.
Detective Raphael Cappodanno, of
the homicide squad of Newark
Police Headquarters, is shown
examining the revolver with which
Friedman was slain.
These joy-riding youngsters, out in
papa’s car, the officers decided, ought
to have a scare thrown into them.
“Come on,” the officers commanded.
“Drive behind us to police headquar-
ters.”
The mild youth at the wheel protested
faintly but the officers were stern. The
two cars set off for headquarters.
They drew into the drive circling the
municipal building.
As the officers alighted from their car,
the second machine shot suddenly across
the well-kept lawn, into the highway and
sped off. It was out of sight before the
officers realized what had happened.
They made note of the license number,
determined to trace its owner and ar-
rest him the next day.
But when they turned in the number,
they learned to their chagrin that P5930
was a much-wanted car and that the
mild youth at the wheel probably was
the Friedman murderer.
An hour after the daring escape, a
black sedan drew up in a secluded street
[Continued on page 54]
27
sage compartment
‘d west. At night
nt with us,
| St. Joseph, Mo.,
ag, and then took
cre they had the
that prison guard.
illegal trial. It’s
ier I killed Crow-
—I was ready to
' right, and take
«im they framed
a fair chance, I
y fixed it so I
They told con-
m the stand for
ish they were
ed me up. So I
. I'd rather die
\ life on one of
Die
ed to me what
trial judge in
hat he was mis-
hat occasion,
aight,” he told
‘, I would like
t haven’t taken
he beginning I
thing, even my
* awful hole I
rejoicing at
1, I will make
vou at the por-
nolds no terror
‘ainst the head
‘y cell, Palmer
| me,” he said,
h difference, I
‘ay, whether I
[ was spotted,
it away from
a marked man,
th in a little
neant by that
o the chair in
on,” he said.
are butchers,
s, slug them,
ways say the
escape and
young as 17
- and call to
‘hop it off!’
ving a big
leg or arm
llow them-
vay? They
| they don’t
d suffer the
e guards in-
er, but it is
de Barrow,
“xas, cut off
er to be re-
) the prison
Al
5
ECTIVE
TRAPPING
New Jersey’s
SHEIK
Bandit
‘“‘May I see some shirts,
please?’’
A quiet, well-modulated
voice broke in upon Julius
Friedman as he read the
evening paper in his Bloom-
field shop. A moment
later there were snarled or-
ders, a struggle, the blast-
ing terror of a heavy revol-
ver and murder!
ADVENTURES
7
*
SCENE OF FATAL HOLDUP
Interior of the Friedman haberdashery showing how
tacks of stock were overturned in the struggle. On
the table were two size fifteen shirts.
NTENT on reading of the latest in
I a series of daring holdups, Julius
Friedman, alone in his small haber-
dashery on the evening of April 6, 1934,
did not hear the door open,
““May I see some shirts, please ?”
Friedman peered nearsightedly over
his thick-lensed glasses and saw a natty,
well-bred appearing youth standing be-
fore him at the counter. It was the
dinner hour in Bloomfield, New Jersey,
a small residential community adjoining
Newark, the largest city of the state.
Broad street, one of the two business
thoroughfares of Bloomfield, was prac-
tically empty, and Friedman was seiz-
ing this opportunity to look over his
newspaper when the polite, softly-in-
toned request drew his attention.
Friedman bounced to his feet.
“And what size, please ?”
es 1172 beeae
7 ) ! _f) a .
ALA. aN 5 9 be Ue olaye ~
/L-Lt’Y [_A L444 &
— ” fig /
The ear, Sree oung gunman
was badly in need of a shave when
this photo was made after his
dramatic capture.
“Fifteen.”
Friedman turned and drew from his
stocked shelves several boxes. As he
lifted out the shirts for his customer’s
examination, he found himself con-
fronted menacingly with the business
end of a revolver,
“Stick ’em up!” The soft voice was
now a harsh snarl,
Friedman blinked. His hands went
up automatically and in the same in-
stant came the realization that this youth
was the bandit whose depredations were
being reported almost daily in scream-
ing black headlines !
Only a few days before Friedman had
been discussing the activities of this
reckless youth with his brother.
“Tf that guy ever comes into my
place,” Friedman had said, “he can have
anything I’ve got.”
By ROLAND E. LINDBLOOM
25
Now the merchant was confronted
with the situation in stark reality. With-
in these split seconds he debated with
himself. The $60 in the cash register
and the $40 in his pockets he could ill-
afford to lose. He couldn’t give it up.
But here before him’ was a good argu-
ment why he should.
In the same instant there flashed in
his mind a shrewd subterfuge. Perhaps,
after all, he could save his money.
Friedman’s arms wavered. He stag-
gered. He clamped his hands suddenly
over his chest.
“My heart!” he moaned weakly, ap-
‘ parently about to fall.
The startled youth involuntarily
stepped forward as if to support him.
As he moved the gun out of range,
Friedman fell heavily upon him.
Now recovered from the faked heart
attack, Friedman seized the gun and
tried to tear it from the youth’s firm
grasp.
There was a brief struggle, a flash,
a loud report, and Friedman staggered
again, this time from a bullet directly
over his heart.
Panic-stricken, the youth, still clasp-
ing the smoking revolver, wrenched
Lieutenant Joseph Coccozza, of
the Essex County prosecutor’s
staff, was one of a number of ace
detectives who worked tirelessly to
solve the mystery of Julius Fried-
man’s phantom slayer.
himself free and dashed for the door,
dl thought of robbery now vanished
from his mind,
Mortally wounded, Friedman tottered
after him, screaming, determined to
capture and hold his assailant. But,
just outside the door, the plucky mer-
chant dropped to the sidewalk, dead.
The youth, pocketing his revolver,
vaulted into a black sedan at the curb.
The motor roared as he swung out di-
rectly into the path of an approaching
car. The driver of the second machine,
angered by the incident, gave chase, re-
solved to overtake the offender, But
the speed was too great.
Mystery Veils Case
FR IEDMAN’S death scream had
echoed through the neighborhood.
Patrolman Robert Clark, whose apart-
ment was above the Friedman store,
heard the cries as he was getting his
automobile from a garage in the rear
of the building. He sprinted forward
in response. At the same time, four
youths in an adjoining drug store, hav-
ing heard the shot and scream, aban-
doned their ice cream sodas to learn
the cause of it all.
Friedman lay sprawled in death be- _
fore his store.
It was a matter of deep mystery when
Police Chief Jensen, Lieutenant Whelan
and Detectives Hess, Spatcher and Eng-
land, later joined by Lieutenant Joseph
Coccozza of the ‘Essex County prose-
cutor’s staff and Detective Raphael Cap-
podanno of the homicide squad of Ne-
wark Police Headquarters, took up the
investigation.
An overturned necktie rack, Fried-
man’s eyeglasses broken on the floor,
and scratches on the victim’s face all
indicated there had been a hand-to-hand
struggle, but his money was in his pock-
ets and the day's receipts were undis-
turbed in the cash register. Other than
that the haberdasher had fought with the
killer, the detectives made little imme-
diate progress.
Two size fifteen shirts lay on the
counter. Did this have any signifi-
cance? Had the killer posed as a
tential customer? If he had, that might
eliminate the theory that Friedman had
been shot by a personally known foe.
Careful investigation showed that
Friedman was well-liked throughout the
town and that he had had no known
enemies. There was nothing to support
the theory that he was the victim of
petty racketeers who prey upon small
shopkeepers.
From that point, the detectives pro-
ceeded on the theory that Friedman had
been slain by a would-be bandit who had
fled in panic without loot after shooting
his intended victim, Still, hadn’t Fried-
man, several days before, declared that
he would never try to resist a holdup?
The two shirts on the counter were
meager clews to work upon. No one,
apparently, had seen the killer leave the
Then the motorist whose machine had
heen almost sideswiped by a black sedan,
having read of the murder, came forward
and told his story.
Black sedan? Well, that clicked,
Teletype reports for the past few
months had told of holdups in: which
three bandits had escaped in a black
sedan, But, the informant said, there
was only one man in the black sedan
which sped from the Friedman store.
He was sure of that.
Locate Holdup Victims
ABORIOUSLY, the detectives be-
gan to check back over recent tele-
type reports. In each case where a’ black
sedan was mentioned as the bandit car,
note was made.
Then began the task of visiting each.
of the dozen or more victims of these
holdups. This carried the detectives in-
to surrounding counties over a thirty-
mile radius.
After fruitless visits to several vic-
tims, the detectives arrived at the deli-
catessen store of Samuel Ruben in Mor-
ristown, some twenty-five miles from
Bloomfield. Ruben had been held up
in his store three weeks before by a
lone, armed youth,
Ruben, the detectives learned, had re-
sisted the holdup by hurling a heavy
carving knife at the gunman. The gun-
men had retaliated with a shot that went
wild,
“There’s the hole in the wall where
the bullet he shot at me struck,” Ruben
said to the detectives, pointing to an
ominous spot on the wall behind the
counter,
Coccozza pulled out his pocket knife,
He dug from the hole a leaden slug,
lodged deep in the plaster, and pocketed
it carefully.
“What else can you tell us?” he asked.
“Well, when he ran out of the store,”
Ruben replied, “I followed him and took
STARTLING DETECTIVE
'
somet!
Ati
and ti
Crue ¢
of the
damni:
on a f,
But
this c}
after
for a
cense
drive:
haber«
miles
first 7
Ti
defini
work
find ;
Was $i
but «
sedan
The
closin;
The:
ever.
had hb:
Did F
accon)}
ADV!
Shackleton. In a bureau drawer he
found bundles of currency and a large
paper bag of coins. In another drawer
he found a cigar box filled with news-
paper clippings about the phantom
bandit’s robberies as well as clippings
about Julius Friedman’s murder. An
old wallet with the youth’s picture
and several identification cards de-
oi aees him as Kurt Barth, 23 years
old.
Barth was taken to Clifton head-
quarters, where he answered all ques-
tions with, “I’m telling you you're
on the wrong track. You got the
wrong person.”
For all his denials he could not ex-
plain away the money, the clip-
pings or the revolvers. Nor could
he explain the ten different sets
of license plates that were discov-
ered underneath the front seat of the
sedan. .
Cocozza, who was notified, arrived
at once. His questions drew the same
vehement denials the others received.
He decided to change his tactics. Kurt
Barth, he realized, was a set criminal,
who could perversely stand up against
bullying and direct accusations.
“If you say you’re not the phantom
bandit, and not Julius Friedman’s
murderer, all right,” he said. “We’re
going entirely on what our witnesses
say, anyway.”
“Witnesses?” the youth blurted.
“There are no witnesses. How can
there be?”
aduated from Columbia College in
Lake City. After that she took a
course in a business college and then
returned to High Springs where she
secured a position working for a Mr.
Priest, one of the leading business
and political figures in the town.
There was nothing in her personal life
which might provide a_ motive for
murder. She was the quiet, religious
type of young woman and she had a
spotless reputation.
The only other two motives which
appeared at all possible were rape
and robbery. The first might be ruled
out because the daylight hours ih a
public building would hardly be suit-
able for that type of crime. The
evidence of the wound showed clearly,
however, that the killer had sneaked
up behind the girl and struck her
with the wrench. .
Obviously, then, if carnal assault
was in his mind he would have waited
for a more opportune moment in
which to strike. This left robbery or
some other cause which as yet had
not come to light.
Exploring the robbery theory, it
became understandable why Lee
Walker would have to kill in order
to make good his get-away. Bonnie
Collins knew him and could easily
have identified him otherwise.
But there was a puzzling feature
- here. The cash box was open and in
plain view. It contained $112.33. There
was no money in Walker’s pockets,
only three Bolita tickets, when his
body was searched.
a2? _
AMAZING DETECTIVE CASES
“But there are. Witnesses that can-
not lie.’ Cocozza held out Barth’s
revolvers. “Here are two of them.
They’ll tell conclusively whether you
killed Friedman or not. So you see
‘we don’t need your admission at ali,"
Beads of perspiration appeared on
Barth’s forehead, and his eyes lost
some of their fire.
“Look,” he said. “I’ll admit those
robberies. No use denying them any
longer. But that’s all I admit. I
didn’t kill Friedman or anybody else.
I was never even near his store.”
Cocozza shrugged his shoulders and
promptly dropped all reference to
the murder. He asked about the
youth’s background and learned that
Barth had come to the United States
with his family from Germany about
nine years ago. His family, all
respectable, law-abiding people, never
suspected that he was engaged in any-
thing unlawful. He had led them to
believe that he had a good job as a
clerk in a store that kept him busy
until after midnight.
“T see,” Cocozza said quietly. While
Barth was talking, Cocozza had taken
a strip of paper from his vest pocket.
“By the way, Kurt,” he said casually,
“ever see this before?” .
Barth stared at the paper wad.
“Sure,” he said. “It’s mine.
must’ve lost it out of my hat some-
where, I guess.”
Cocozza nodded. “You did lose it,
Barth.
In Julius Friedman’s store.
SILENCED SCANDAL AND THE
CRIMSON SHOWDOW
dragging Bonnie’s body out of sight
when his objective—the money—was
right there before him. There was no
ready answer to this except that there
is no way of predicting what a per-
son’s actions will be when he commits
a crime.
Another elusive point was that
when Chief Burton shot Walker he
was attempting to make his escape
through the window. That particular
window was one that couldn’t be
opened.
There was one possibility, hitherto
overlooked, that would fit in with all
the facts of the case and still change
the findings of the Coroner’s jury.
This was that Lee Walker’s motive
was not robbery but murder—that he
had been hired by someone who
wanted Bonnie Collins out of the way
and who was paying a hired assassin
to do it. No evidence —. to this,
but it was a theory that was worth
looking into.
The check into. Walker’s background
showed him to be a flashily-dressed
colored man whose earning capacity
was somewhat superior to that of the
other members of his race. The reason
for this was obvious. Walker was the
principal collector for the local Bolita
syndicate. This game, it should be
remembered, was not looked upon as
anything criminal in this town. Most
of the inhabitants played it—even
Chief of Police Burton, who was one
of Walker’s customers—while the
banker for the syndicate was looked
upon as a business man of substance.
ML. j«wnaznlaraAd murdAdarar
. glen auger.
It’s another witness against, you.”
Tests on Kurt Barth’s revolvers at
the county laboratory proved that the
death sat and the bullet fired at
the abe had come from one of the
youth’s revolvers.
That same day victims of the phan-
tom bandit, including the grocer,
identified Kurt Barth as the man who
had held them up.
Confronted with these witnesses, as
well as the damning facts proved by
Cocozza’s microscopes and his own
claim of the paper wad, Kurt Barth
saw that resistance now was futile.
“J shot Friedman when he tried to
fight me,” he said.
On June 4, 1934, he went on trial for
his life before Common Pleas Judge
Daniel J. Brennan in Newark.
Three days later the jury returned
a verdict of guilty in the first degree,
and Judge Brennan sentenced Kurt
Barth to the electric chair.
In the death row of State Prison,
Barth’s cell neighbor was Bruno
Richard Hauptmann, who was await-
ing execution for his crime on the
Lindbergh baby. The two prisoners,
with bars between them, conversed
daily in German and became fast
friends.
Kurt Barth was first to march
the leng of the corridor to the
death ber. It was on March 22,
1935, w he expired in the chair
in legal atonement for his vicious
crime.
(Continued from
page 35)
mented his income by selling dream
books to the gullible natives. This
purported to tell them how to in-
terpret their dreams numerically and
thus select a winning number.
Taken by and large, Lee Walker
didn’t seem to be the type who would
turn his hand to crimes of violence.
He was the kind who lived by his
wits, not his brawn, but then, Detec-
tive Gasque knew, even swindlers,
least apt in the entire criminal hier-
archy to indulge in physical force,
have been known to commit murder.
Detective Gasque had spent the
first week properly assimilating the
facts surrounding the murder of
Bonnie Collins. He had taken these
facts and against the backgrounds of
the personalities and characters of the
principals involved was trying to
weave as many logical possibilities as
his mind was capable of producing.
In the end his report to Governor
Scholtz might not be any different
than the one made by the Coroner’s
jury. But he knew that when he filed
his own report it would be so com-
plete that it would settle once and
forever any possible argument over
the justice of the verdict issued by the
Coroner’s panel.
Bonnie Collins had been working on
her accounts so that the township's
financial statements would be com-
pleted before January 1st, when death
struck. She was only half way
through the job so Detective Gasque
finished it for her. He found, among
other things, that Chief of Police
— Burton owed the township $150 in
NJSP (Essex
ome
“When Julius Friedman turned, aroundte:show. a customer
found himself facing: the muzzle of a°-38: The Jérsey
the rampage again, and this 4imé he got panicky, kille
SNe re Detective Enigland, shown examining Friec $.
only 3 e,clue to work from: aifiny and: Mug, “fold
DECEN LE EL?
on 3/22/1955,
Bi te So wd SS, wal eae aed te a the
OE AT IT PT OE ODOT fe ay org
HE MANAGED TO TERRORIZE AN E
By HAL WHITE
HE lamps along Bloomfield,
New Jersey’s, Broad Street
glowed dimly through the
fog that lay heavy over the
city on the early April evening.
Michael Zetwick, turning his se-
dan into Broad at the rim of the
business district, reached toward the
dashboard to switch on his head- °
lights. As he did so he saw, from the
corner of his eye, the black shape
of another sedan swinging out from
the opposite curb. But before Zet- -
wick could cut over to the left to
allow the other car to Swerve past
him, he heard the rasping grind of
contacting fenders, then felt a slight
jarring of the machine beneath him
a
as the other shot by with throttle
open and motor roaring.
Zetwick pushed the accelerator of
his car to the floor boards. He’d
caught a glimpse of a light-haired,
bespectacled youth at the wheel of
the other vehicle. One of those
speed-crazy, hair-brained kids will-
ing to risk his own and others’ lives
fora thrill, Zetwick thought.
Well, he’d overtake him and give
him a piece of his own mind. The
tail-light of the speeding car ahead
of him dimmed to a tiny point as
Zetwick sped down the wide thorough-
fare in pursuit, but after half a mile
he was forced to give up the chase.
The other sedan,- which had looked
NTIRE STATE
like a’new Plymouth, had easily out-
distanced him,
Zetwick slowed down, made a U-
turn, and started back. toward the
business district. Twenty . minutes
later he again passed the point where
the near-cra$h had occurred. As he
did so he noted a small crowd of
pedestrians gathered in front of the:
haberdashery owned by Julius Fried-
man, a merchant from whom he’d-
frequently made small purchases,
Zetwick pulled sharply over to
the curb. From behind him he heard
the wail of a police siren, and as
he came to a stop, a patrol car
swerved to the curb in front of him
and pulled up. with a screaming of
19
; a
brakes. Two officers got out of their car in a hurry.
Zetwick stepped from his own .car, glancing at his
wrist watch as he did so. It was exactly 7:00. A moment
later he joined the small crowd gathered in front of
the haberdashery and heard the excited voice of a man
who ran to meet the two police officers.
“There he is; lying there on the sidewalk just out-
side the entrance to the store!” the man cried excitedly.
“J was passing when he staggered out and cried for
help!”
? : ‘
HE officers pushed past the speaker and on through
the crowd. They knelt at the side of a man lying in
a pool of crimson, whom Zetwick instantly recognized
as Friedman, the proprietor of the shop.
A moment later Patrolman Robert Clark came from
the interior of the store. ;
“Afraid it’s too. late to do anything for him,” the
uniformed man informed the other officers. “I got here
a minute or two after he fell. Heard his cry half a
block away.” ;
“Dead when you reached him?” asked Detective Lieu-
tenant Joseph Cocozza, special investigator for the
Essex County,. N. a prosecutor’s office.
“No, but he’d dropped to the sidewalk and the blood
was spreading over the left side of his coat. I asked
him who shot him and his lips parted as though he
was trying to speak. Then there was a gurgling sound
and he was dead.” ;
Lieutenant Cocozza turned to the crowd gathered
about them. “Where’s the man who saw him fall?” he
demanded.
A man who identified himself as John Temple, a
Bloomfield merchant, pushed his way to where Cocozza
knelt beside the inert body. He’d been passing on the
other side of the street, on his way to a corner drug
store, he said, when he noticed a black sedan pull up
in front of Friedman’s establishment.
“JT went on, finished my errand and was returning
when I heard a scream. I saw that the black sedan was
no longer at the curb. Then, as I hesitated, I saw a man
stagger from the store. I heard his shouts for help,
and the next moment I ran forward as he plunged head-
long to the sidewalk. A.man came running up an
turned to see Patrolman Clark coming toward me.
stepped aside to let him pass and he was the first to:
reach the wounded man.”
Temple said he hadn’t noticed how many people were
in the car he’d seen in front of the store. At this point ee
Zetwick stepped forward and volunteered the informa, )
- tion that he had passed the haberdashery half an hour itself was a single shirt, bf white material and size 15. th:
before, just as a black sedan was pulling away. He was Friedman, Cocozza reasoned, had probably been showing om
sure, he said, that there’d been only one man in the this to someone just before he was shot. th
machine, pe Continuing in his reconstruction, Cocozza pointed out
Neither Temple nor: Zetwick had noted the license that the killer must have waited until the proprietor : y
number of the automobile, but both thought it was a was about to close for the day, when it was unlikely
new Plymouth sedan. that there would be any customers in the place. po:
Cocozza ordered the body moved inside the shop pend- “Probably came in and asked to see a shirt,” the in- in
ing the arrival of a medical examiner. Then, as Chief vestigator pointed out. “Then, while he was being shown loc
of Police Charles F. Jensen and Captain Grover O'Neill the shirt, he must have drawn a revolver—the bullet be:
arrived at the scene of the shooting, he entered the store. hole, over Friedman’s heart indicates it was a thirty- tai
There was a trail of blood from the doorway to the eight—and ordered Friedman to stick ’em/' up. Some- ;
rear of the narrow salesroom where Friedman had a thing went wrong at this point. Either Friedman failed reg
little office and kept his safe. It ended at a small table to obey that order or the robber became panicky and: du:
which lay overturned at the side of a rectangular space let loose.” a flec
enclosed by 4 handrail. : Bh After that it was ‘pretty clear what hatl occurred. ]
counter behind The man, fearful that the shot had béen heard outside, the
e
By the side of this table there was a
which were stacked piles of linen shirts. On the counter
20
_ turned and fled, jumping into his car ‘and. opening the
| * ' :
.
-
RD. ¥ EAR, xe 480.
Spreng suis Uk —
which | was,
the oppo. f
# etstrocuted . leat, evening * ‘im the * “New.
é server: State rian eeoke after 9
the ee "Mgentieman- ‘parelan®: of:
wood, whose ‘yecord: marke him as -gne
stute and daring: bure-
resent:, « nération, was:
: electric: chair’ and sa rig Ose
and’ perfectly. tranapil Bs. adly
: atraps were heing. fastened ‘about: his |
bel His’ face did’ not fose, the: smile
“indomitable” courage. ) Pinned - fo:
4 tie ‘shirt. waa a’ fresh white” rose. cand
a. ‘moment previous! tot the contact that.
shunted : him: ‘into! eternity th barg~
Continued gn Page Fou
PROBING AUTO. KILLING
roner ‘John W. Flock: has scured
Humber of ‘the imachiné supposed
wford apsimontt “near. Raton-
‘causing - the
i ing ity: Ber
hoen}etn Isaac’. ‘Stein,
[ Mrs: Fay was” dead, «Mrs. UEly.
responsible. for the accident tof
Lewis ae and
‘Jaté his” face,
a, Aug. “fe-Sira.,
“tdled “on ‘board “the: Patten: Ine steam:
‘| boat Elberoh, as that boat was passing‘
thru. the | ‘Narrows. on-her mornifg trip | indignation sume years: age, bids fair.
ew York “yesterday. Mrs. Elyjio pe’ ‘renewed thru. the action Of the
had been Il) fora coupte’ of: Feurs, ‘and ‘board ‘of freeholders taken. today “and
the trip she -‘atarted ‘on was her first nty agent cigl native Progecutor Jopn Te
‘Jattempt at an outing. She was accom-is.. ‘Applegate s-emns to have taken of [
% ep Danled 2 her phushter pee Baen te recurrence of the evil:
*
fe, a couple © :
iiettle. over Se ‘years ‘ald. ‘
speaker. at the. youtig people's. njecting
Jing. ° The bishop’ . talk’ was brief but to
tthe point, | In” part: ‘his wotda: were: "ED
bring ‘three atrowa’ ‘to you ths | morn-
ing. They are short, pointed : and!
The, first is
Jesus: “was.het
never sce tin, hear. his voice: tarot: 160k
he Iw..not” here, but: the- Holy Ahogt
Which represents him is. here, When he
feft ‘the, earth. he eal “that: “the: com”
[torter would cqme in bin place and tt
Albertine Jeanette Ely, wife of. 3. P43
, Ely: of 305 Lafayette-avenue, Brevkly yt
et. minutos} greirserested person ‘beside: the officer
Led making. the arrest.
7 yYeaunty Jail for the purpose. af obtaining
ce ments are expected,
‘the matter up $n a forceful manner
es -jand ‘that-he fs determined. to clear the
* Bishop Henry. ‘Spellme er. wea “ine
{in the Océan Grove temple this morn- |.
hope loaded with: truth and will ‘abide
«tin your hearts forever, ¥
| it Jesus “were here’.the pecond “When |
und fhird-Seous: willy
‘}eome again,’ It- Jesus: ‘were here, being
im man, We would be: limited by. Atlme and
| space, Mand> ‘ruled. by -the’ laws of -na-
cure,/ It be were Bere many would
Poheretdre: f, igh xind.
Be Prosecuted an
: E eee Neg on
osThe: ‘tramp: question, which 3 ne
Monmouth: counts to a high pitch 6f°
y ie mos
‘ a a com- e
* Proseqator Applesate. ditensed the
session’ and took euptous: notes. Hede.
felared that he would: subpoena’ before
ithe verand jury any” Justices*.or con:
stables . uauinst whom there’ was- ANY |
igdspicion that thes were crowding the
the’ fees, The prosecuter “took! the
hames of the officers and justices. un-
der suspictan und interesting develops
Itis thought Sheri Hetrick tsbeht
jul: of alDuce apne best Suatty, Jmoris:
oned.: :
Asbury Park end “Neptune”? loan.
ship. Justices have- never been accused
of this method ot. padding thelr payretl
and are not under ‘suspic fon now. Hed
Bank and Freehold taw officers are 4. ld
10 be Most: to. bdamne, ve :
STAFF. BAND ConceRT
Sth | salvation:
Start band ot Ne
concert Baturday : nlgtit “yn. the atmy
hall here at 61) Mattison aven uf. “The
National © tat chard isa, well known
musical “organization and As expecte a
to atiew : a fab” house. <The inusical
and Mente: Will te. \preshicd: over hy
Col W, AD Meintyte. ef New York A
Feria admission” wit, be barked.
(Continvda. e: Pare eek.
Rome prees agenti are wo extremely
; jective that: ‘thety work should be sup-’
- piorpanten. PY yeas: ofa mp
“Wife Bade rh Farewell MM nda:
Mra, Rertchoy wi
x i ent hin ome tracts te hs te
How ing." ach: th
| Mone ey to Firg
Bs ¢3 te
-fauiargs : gee, oe
E FOR SALE—FAR
3 ‘AMiles West of .
foum heuse;
| eee ere
. _ destrabis _ gant Fy. howe.
rer a
ORK
gainsin summer ay win-
ter homes, More ba: Sins to
offer, than we: have ever bad
a STelephave 432. iy
THE JOINT FREE PURLIC LIBRARY
of
Morristown and Morris Township
1 Miller Road, Morristown, N. J. 07960
Marian R. Geruart, Director Tel. 538-6161
538-6162
oe a Mae ae se coat aoe Knee g
Lenreler _,
. Cy Ae Yee Cle s ) on i, put ol CMH ae
Aye te A A “pe eet Ly Lae aL
Peasy
otemaanenee ene
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RRP We
BRANDON,
f
|
N NINE MURDER CASES ut of ten He and Lawson were positive there By j
where the victim is a woman, she had been two shots. What, then, of the é es, ’
has in some way contributed to her second bullet? Shuddering, the reforma- “DAVID R. GEORGE }
own demise, either through her ac- tory superintendent told the motorcycle
tions or the circumstances in which, officer what he had heard about the girl..
she has placed herself. Aware that this Had she, too, been shot to death? Her
is generally true, homicide investigators body was nowhere in the vicinity. A gun f ound on a
il usually dig into the woman victim’s back- pia
eas i ground for the motive. But there are HILE Lawson, Doctor Moore and Pa- ° i
t ‘exceptions, and one was the case of Edith trolman Orton awaited the arrival of gem thief finally }
ake Janny, a buxom young blonde whose other officers, a dramatic scene was
character and behavior were without a taking place two miles farther down the ° °
single detectable flaw. turnpike. solved a _ puzzling
This case began dramatically. at two There. another policeman, summoned
o'clock one sultry morning in August, from his post by Linden headquarters, New Jersey murder!
not far from the moonlight-bathed gray stood with his service revolver drawn
- stone buildings of the New Jersey State beside his motorcycle in the center of I
Reformatory at Linden. Dr, Frank the highway to block the oncoming black
Moore, the superintendent, lay in bed on touring car. The machine’s headlights ap:
the ‘second floor of his house at the edge peared in the distance and rapidly grew
of the grounds, unable to sleep because of _Jarger; its motor roared at top speed. .
the oppressive heat. Through the window The policeman was clearly outlined in
came the hum of an occasional passing the glare of the headlamps, but the driver
auto or truck on: the Rahway Turnpike. neither slackened nor swerved the auto.
Suddenly two shots split the air, bring- It roared straight at the officer, who
ing Doctor Moore upright in bed. He leaped for his life. The car’s left fender
strode to the window, and on the moon- sent the motorcycle flying into the ditch.
lit road saw two men dragging a third The officer emptied his gun at the van-
from-the driver's seat of a black touring jshing machine, but his shots went wide
car. Reaching for his telephone, the su- of their mark.
perintendent asked for Linden police Now the alarm for the murder car had
j headquarters. been spread throughout Union and Mid-
Minutes later, Doctor Moore was de- dlesex Counties. All major roads and in-
scribing to the desk officer the macabre tersections were guarded, and every avail-
scene.. \ able patrolman in the area was placed
“There seems to be a woman in trou- on the alert.: j
ble, too, Sergeant,” he said in a low tone. Back on the turnpike in Linden,.on the
| “I just overheard one of the men say, outskirts of Rahway, Police Chief Ray-
Hi “We’ve got to get rid of the girl!’ You’d mond Carmody and Inspector John A.
oe better get someone here in a hurry. Galatian, chief of Union County detec-
eee |) They’ve dumped the fellow into the ditch - tives; had arrived at the scene with sev-
the beside the pike . . . They’re getting back eral men.
i \ ..into the car .; . They’re gone!” Carmody and Galatian examined the
I Across the turnpike from the superin- victim’s body and clothing for clues to G
tendent’s house, there had been other wit- his identity. He wore neither rings gor y‘
nesses.’ William Lawson, auditor for an a watch, and his pockets contained no
4 aircraft company, was dressing’ hastily. wallet, no bills, nd change. bx
etd His wife stood at their bedroom window, “I'd say this was a gang killing,” Car- th
| he her trembling hands holding to her eyes mody observed. He gazed northeast, ar
r tik ° a pair of opera glasses trained on the flee- where far away a dull glow hung in the ot
ro ing car. The Lawsons, too, had been sky, marking the teeming boroughs of tv
a aroused by the shots. New York City. “Probably some of those th
Lawson and Doctor Moore reached the East Side toughs from Manhattan. They =
| | highway just as Patrolman Herbert Orton think they can get away with murder
eee || arrived on his motorcycle, Beside the out here in New Jersey.” C:
i road a man lay face down with mud This initial theory was discarded, how- of
a ‘streaks on his blue sports jacket and gray ever, when all the labels on the victim’s an
ee ’ flannels. He was hatless. Orton gently clothing were found intact. Gang slayers ui
a Te; _, turned him over and saw that blood seeking to. prevent identification. of a -
chee ~ .. drenched his shirtfront. . corpse, the officers well knew, would nev- '
ua fea Kneeling beside the body, Doctor er have left such telltale marks. On the ha
res Moore ma aba we: Nerve “This inside of the man’s jacket was the label (5Pyam , ca
} Pes man is dead,” he said shortly. “He was of an exclusive men’s shop in Perth ; rie
t : i} -Shot only once, but it’ looks like that one Amboy, New Jersey. : DR. FRANK MOORE— of
\ d if 1 ao bullet pierced his. heart.” . . “This ‘ought to be helpful, Chief,” Was in bed when he heard death shots. ' ro
Mi Oi de SE LOCOS. Hee
ots.
ARTHUR L. KUPFER—
Young man shown below was one of the murder victims,
Galatian said, “even though it knocks out
your motive.”
* While morgue attendants prepared the
body for removal, the chief’s men and
the inspector’s detectives searched the
area thoroughly for the murder gun or
other possible clues. But in more than
two hours spent painstakingly combing
the terrain by flashlight,:they found no
weapon, no lead of any kind.
Back at Linden headquarters, Chief
Carmody telephoned Chief Robert Burke
of the Perth Amboy police, requesting his
aid in identifying the victim. Two of Gala-
tian’s detectives already had set out for the
seashore city with the dead man’s jacket.
Meanwhile, police of the two counties
had been watching in vain for. the death
car. Finally, at 4 a.m., a black touring
car was found by'two Union County
Officers, abandoned in a ditch ona lonely
road five miles from the crime scene.
‘
BML LC
The occupants apparently had fled on
foot, although the gravel road was too
rough to retain any footprints.
The officers flashed word of the dis-
covery to Inspector Galatian in his office
at the Union County courthouse. “Don’t
touch the machine until we get there,”
he directed. “We might be able to get
some fingerprints.”
The inspector, joined by Chief Car-
mody and two print experts, sped out
to examine the abandoned car.
There was no question but that jt was :
the auto in which the slayers had fied.
Three bullet holes just below the tonneau
showed where the motorcycle policeman’s
slugs had ‘torn into the machine without
effect.
The license plates, significantly, were
missing. They had been bent off hurried-
ly from their mounting, to Which two
jagged strips of steel still clung.
JOHN A. GALATIAN— :
Union County, N. J., police chief who probed case.
“I hardly think the killers would have
had time to chisel away the engine and
serial numbers,” Galatian declared. “If
they are intact, we can trace the car
through them.” 2
A brief glance under the hood ‘showed
the inspector to be correct, and the num-
bers were jotted down for checking with
the files of the State Motor Vehicle
Bureau.
The detectives gingerly opened the
doors with gloved hands to avoid smudg-
ing possible prints, and examined the
car’s interior. Blood stained both thé
. front seat cushion and the rear carpet.
They found no gun and Only one other
object—a woman’s powerpuff, almost hid-
den in the crevice between the cushion
and back of the front seat.
“Then Doctor Moore must have been
right when he reported hearing the kill-
ers talking about a woman,” Carmody
= a
44
=
erilhaininst
a
said, “But if she was in this car, was
she an accomplice or another victim?”
“That's hard to tell,” Galatian ob-
served. “Moore said he heard them say-
ing something about getting rid of her.
That could one of two things—dropping
her off alive or dead.”
Now the inspector’s technicians care-
fully dusted the steering wheel, gear-shift
knob, brake levers and other parts of the
car’s’ interior’ with powdered French
chalk, The powder readily showed up
a mass of prints on the levers and the
wheel, but these were too jumbled to
be singled out.
-Just above: the dashboard, and on top
of the left front door, however, the
experts lifted two sets of prints, each
clear enough to be photographed. :
“We can only hope,” Galatian said
earnestly, “that neither of these sets was
made by the victim.” ;
. A tow car arrived from Linden to haul
the murder car back to headquarters for
closer . examination, and Galatian and
Carmody returned to Linden to discuss
their next move.
ACK in the inspector's Office, they
found word awaiting them from
Perth Amboy. Aided by @hief Burke,
Galatian’s men had located the clothier
who had sold the jacket. He readily iden-
tified the garment as one he had made
up especially for “a particular customer”
—Arthur L. Kupfer, superintendent of a
Perth Amboy cigar factory. The descrip- =~
tion of Kupfer, 30, dark and handsome,
corresponded with that of the victim.
Visiting the waterfront building where
Kupfer had a three-room bachelor apart-
ment, the detectives learned from the
other tenants that the young factory boss
had only one close relative—his mother,
who lived on St. Nicholas Avenue in New
York City. Galatian immediately tele-
phoned her, ‘asking her to come to Linden
and view the victim’s remains to make
formal identification,
Then at daybreak, while Mrs. Kupfer
was on her way to the Linden morgue,
the case took another startling turn.
Still searching the area where the mur-
der car was discovered, officers came
upon the shapely body of a young wom.
an. Clad in a white linen suit streaked
with blood, she lay face down in a gully
beside the road, a mile nearer Linden
than where the auto was abandoned.
Gore from a bullet wound above her
left ear matted her long blonde hair,
done up in a bun at the back. Her large
blue eyes were fixed in a sightless stare.
She appeared to be in her early twenties,
and even in death she was attractive.
A. man’s light cap lay beside her,
pierced on the left side by a bullet hole.
Leaving his companion to stand guard
over the corpse, the other officer sped to
the nearest police box and called Inspec-
‘tor Galatian.
: Haggard from lack of sleep, the in-
Spector snapped ‘alert at the news of: the
second victim’s discovery. He and Chief
Carmody raced to the scene, questions
throbbing in their minds.
Was this the woman to whom the kill-
ers had referred when they hauled the
dead man’s body out of the car? If so,
why was she killed? What was her rela-
tionship to the slain man, and who was
she?
“From the location: of the bullet hole
in the cap and the wound in the girl's
head,” Galatian pointed out, “it would
seem that she was wearing the cap when
she was shot.”
Whose cap was it? Could it have been
that of the dead man, who was. hatless
when found? Or did the cap belong to
one of ‘the slayers?
Soon the Union County medical ex-
aminer arrived and made a cursory ex-
amination. “I'd say this young woman
has been dead for about four hours,” he
reported. “That would place the time
of death at approximately that of the
man found opposite the reformatory. Ap-
parently death was caused by a single
bullet which entered her skull above the
left ear and lodged in the brain.”
_ BDITHJANNY
,. She was the second victim in
_ sensational New Jersey case,
Pg ‘ nT secwomied bis ot ane kali teats
The girl's clothes were carefully ex-
amined by the detectives for clues to her
identity. But her garments, which were
intact, bore no labels, Neither was there
any indication that any labels had .been
removed.
“Her suit is cheap, but neat,” Carmody
pointed out. “She probably bought it in |
a cut-rate shop, and that’s the reason it’s
not labeled.”
The girl's brown-and-white shoes bore
the name of a nationally known manu-
facturer. This, the officers knew, offered
only a remote chance of establishing her
identity. Through patient and tedious
tracing from the manufacturer through
the jobber to the retailer, it was barely
possible that the buyer could be deter-
mined. By the time such a search was
completed, it might be too late to capture
her killers,
Galatian ordered the body removed to
the morgue, where autopsies could be
performed on both victims later in the
day. The date was Thursday, August 23,
1918,
Both the inspector and Chief Carmody
still were Without sleep at 8 a.M., when
Mrs, Kupfer arrived to look at the fea-
tures of the. dead man. Battling to hold
back the tears, the elderly woman was
led into the morgue, where an attendant
pulled back the sheet that covered the
victim’s face.
“That's my Arthur!” she shrieked.
“May the Lord have mercy!”
‘Carmody supported the woman, near
collapse, and led her sobbing from the
room.
At last the investigator’s were certain
of the man’s identity. But who was the
blonde?
“Kupfer must have been acquainted
with the girl,” Galatian concluded at
Linden headquarters, where a police - ma-
tion was comforting Mrs. Kupfer. “If
we delve into his background and activi-
ties, we may find out: who she is.”
“It’s our best bet,” Carmody agreed.
“And the place to start is Perth Amboy,
where Kupfer worked and lived.”
ALATIAN and Carmody went off duty
for a few hours badly needed sleep
while detectives worked with Chief
Burke in the seaside city to unearth any
possible: leads to the solution of the mys-
terious double murder.
As they were questioning friends and
associates of the young factory superin-
tendent, Galatian’s office received a call
from the State Motor Vehicle Bureau at
Trenton. The black touring car was reg-
istered in Kupfer’s own name!
Burke and the Perth Amboy investiga-
tors talked with several persons who had
known Arthur Kupfer. Everyone spoke
highly of the young man, declaring him
to be sober, industrious and above re-
proach. He was best known for the
prominent part he took in the activities
of the local Elks. He had an interest in
the cigar factory which he superintended.
As a good citizen, it seemed incredible
that anywhere in his private life should
lurk a motive for murder.
At last the detectives located his closest
friend, Joseph Polkowitz, who gave the
first clue to the blonde’s identity,
“Recently Arthur had been seeing a
young woman of this city,” the informant
said. “It seemed strange to me, for he
often told me he never would marry so
long as his mother lived. He was de-
voted to her and phoned her every day.
I don’t think: he could have been serious
, about this girl.”
“Who is she?” Burke demanded eager-
ly.
“Edith Janny, cashier at the Hotel
Madison.”
The detectives sped to the hotel, where
they learned that the blonde had not
reported for work that day. The man-
ager had assumed she was ill. Now he
called her home, and her widowed moth-
er reported tearfully that Edith had not
come home all night.
Burke and his men drove to the Janny
residence, a modest white frame house,
where they found the mother hysterical
with worry. At the sight of the Officers,
she paled. Burke told Mrs. Janny he
feared her daughter had met with an
accident and asked her to go with them
to Linden.
On the way to the morgue, the chief
broke the grim news to the mother to
steel her for the ordeal to come. After
a fit of sobbing, she calmed sufficiently to
view the remains. Knowing what to ex-
pect, Mrs. Janny was outwardly calm, but
tense as she spoke quietly. ;
“That is Edith,” she said. “What a
pity!”
Galatian and Carmody, back on duty,
conferred with Burke and the other de-
tectives at Linden headquarters.
“It’s obvious that Edith Janny and
Arthur Kupfer had a date last night,”
the inspector said. “Her mother knew
she was going out, but didn’t know what
man she was going out with. We must
press our inquiry on two fronts now—
into the activities of the slain couple last
night, and into the background of the
girl.”
Galatian returned to Perth Amboy
with Burke and took charge of the in-
vestigation there. During the rest of the
day and far into the evening, they worked
steadily.
The late Edith Janny had been a young
woman with a great many friends, most
of them girls who had been high school
chums. Thus it was not difficult for the
investigators to paint, from the victim’s
acquaintances, an accurate picture of her
character and life.
A lover of pleasute, Edith nevertheless
was strictly a home girl, quiet, decent
and respected. She was fond of tennis,
and liked to swim on the famous New
Jersey beaches. Her brother and two
sisters said she had about as many beaux
as other girls in her set, but there seemed
to be only one youth of whom Edith
was at all fond. He was Steve Baxter, a
chauffeur, who had been sent to Camp
Dix, in the draft two months earlier. He
and Edith, however, did not correspond,
The detectives quickly suspected that
Baxter might have heard that Edith had
fallen in love with the young cigar:
factory boss while he was in uniform, and
jealousy had driven him ‘to commit the
double murder.
They checked with the young man’s
parents, who said Baxter had not been
home since he went into the army. This
was confirmed by Camp Dix authorities,
who examined his service record and in-
terviewed his company commander. The
young soldier had not been away from
the military reservation since his induc-
tion.
Making further inquiries in Perth Am-
boy, the investigators brought to light the
fact that on the eve of their deaths Ar-
thur Kupfer and Edith Janny had been
on a double date. The others with them
were Ivan Sampler and Geraldine Harri-
son; the latter was a saleswoman_ in
Sampler’s small department store in Perth
Amboy.
Sampler said that he and Kupfer, in
the latter’s car, met the girls by appoint-
ment in a roadside dining place at Seid-
ler’s Beach at 8 p.m. They ate a, leisurely
dinner and danced to the soft music. of
a popular orchestra. ,
Arthur had held Edith close, her
GEORGE BRANDON—
Young man pictured at the right died
in the electric chair. His accomplice
pleaded guilty to manslaughter and got
off with only four years at hard labor.
blonde head nestling against his, cheek
to cheek. Her curvaceous figure pressed
against his strong frame. As they drifted
over the floor to the accompaniment of
romantic melodies, it was obvious to their
companions that they were deeply in
love.
» Yet Arthur little knew, as he felt the
warmth of Edith’s young body and in-
haled her perfume, that in a matter of
hours they both would be lying cold and
dead on a lonely road.
After a couple of hours at the road-
house, Sampler told the officers, the four-
some left and started back to Perth Am-
boy.
“We dropped Geraldine off first at
her home,” he recalled. “Then Kupfer
and Edith drove me to my home. That
was about eleven o'clock, They didn’t
come in, but left together. Arthur’s right
arm was around Edith, who snuggled
close to him at the wheel. That was the
last I saw of them.”- a
The detectives checked the story care-
fully with roadhouse employes and neigh-
bors of both Sampler and Miss Harrison.
Every detail rang true. The two couples
had left the resort shortly after 10
o'clock; the saleswoman was seen to re-
®
‘
turn home around 11, and soon after-
ward, the store owner himself. ‘ S
Where, then, were the young. factory
superintendent and his lovely blonde
companion from 11 o’clock until 2 a.M.,
when the shots were fired? What were
they doing on the turnpike in Linden,
ten miles north of Perth Amboy and in
the opposite direction from the road-
house? All inns between the seashore
city'and Linden were checked, but the
slain couple had not visited any of them.
ARLY next day the autopsy reports
were returned to Inspector Galatian.
Kupfer had been killed by a .32-cali-
bre slug which had entered his chest
high above the heart and had taken a
downward course into that organ. Edith
Janny had died of a similar slug in her
brain. Powder burns ringed both wounds,
indicating that the shots had been fired
at close range.
The detectives, reconstructing the
shooting, reasoned that the killer sat in
the rear seat of the car and held the
gun close to Kupfer, at the wheel, and
then to Edith Janny’s head. Since the
shots apparently were fired after the car
had stopped; the (Continued on page 46)
i TD so
i nt
ce
BREE Sees
Te Or
ween eee
gremiees
s
neni abd
ielioeare sed
wen
Pa Me an
BULLETS FOR TWO
(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 45)
i
sldyers would not fear that Kupfer would
lose control and wreck th
tims, the detectives learned that Kupfer
had worn a $600 diamond ring and
in the habit of carrying large sums o .
Days and. weeks passed as Galatian
and the other investigators worked pa-
tiently to develop a new lead in the case,
But they made no progress, and the offi-
cers reluctantly‘ conceded they were at
a dead end,
During the months that followed, the
investigators occupied themselves with
money in his wallet, while Miss Janny \.other duties and more pressing cases,
invariably wore a small diamond ring.
All were missing when the bodies .were
found, Could the motive, after all, haye
been robbery? Or were the valuables
stolen merely to make the crime look
like robbery?
The bullet-pierced cap which Miss, Jan-
ny had -been wearing was identified as
Kupfer’s. The powderpuff obviously was
' hers. Now, only two clues were left—
the two, slugs removed from the bodies
and the two sets of fingerprints found
-on the murder car. ‘
The bullets were turned over to ballis-
_ tics experts for examination, and mic
photographs. of their - markings
placed on record. The fingerprj
classified and sent to New
authorities, and to the
Department. But the
prints of known crjafinals in any of those
files.
NEW YORK CITY—Willard A. Cole, left, a Canadian working as ship’s steward, was
46 accused of looting fifty-five homes of $80,000 in valuables. Assistant District Attorney Thomas Cullen is at right.
hut they stubbornly refused to drop the
Kupfer-Janny murders as unsolved.
Thy November, the first World
came\ to an abrupt’ end.- The j
celebration of the Armistice Swept the
who handled the
that the slayers of
Edith Janny
at large. \
in Brooklyn and presented themse
fore the marriage-license clerk.
were accompanied by a dark-haired
young man who gave his name as Ed-
ward Johnson.
: Brandon and Miss Conrad were mar-
.
‘ they found a .32-calibre revolver.
ried in a civil ceremony, at which John-
son- acted as the witness. The happy trio
departed to celebrate.
But back at Sally’s home on 8lst
Street in Manhattan’s Yorkville section,
New York City Detectivés William Smith,
in Bfooklyn this afternoon,” the puzzled
rs. Conrad said: “Is . . . is she in some
trouble?”
The detectives were waiting inside the
door when the boisterous wedding party
entered. “Put ‘em up—fast!” Smith bark-
ed and the trio quickly complied.
The two men glowered, and the girl
burst into tears as the officers searched
them. In the coat pockets of each man,
The
girl was unarmed.
“Now we'll tell you why. we wanted
@ your daughter,” Smith explained to Mrs.
Conrad. “She’s the girl who got away
with four diamond rings ten days ago
in that robbery at Armin Hollinger’s
jewelry store on Third Avenue, just
around the corner.”
The detectives did not disclose that
Sally Conrad had been traced by a me-
thodical canvass of the neighborhood,
Tn,
arrested as a lone-wolf Raffles and
\
eo ner
‘A BULLET
— BOUGHT
they can get away with murder out
here in Jersey.”
However, this initial theory was
discredited when all the labels on the
victim’s clothing were found intact.
Gang slayers seeking to prevent the
identification of a corpse, the officers
well knew, would not have left such
telltale marks. On the inside of the
dead man’s jacket was the label of an
exclusive men’s shop in Perth Am-
boy, N.J.
“That will help,” Inspector Gala-
tian exulted. “Even though it knocks
out your motive, chief.”
As morgue attendants prepared the
body for removal, the chief’s men and
the inspector’s detectives searched the
area thoroughly for the murder gun or
other possible clues. In more than
two hours spent in painstakingly
combing the terrain by flashlight, they
found neither a weapon nor any other
lead.
From Linden headquarters Chief
Carmody telephoned Chief Robert
Burke of the Perth Amboy police, re-
questing his aid in identifying the vic-
tim. Two of Galatian’s detectives al-
ready had set out for the seashore city
with the dead man’s jacket.
All this time police of the two
counties had been watching in vain
for the murder machine. Finally, at 4
a.m. a black touring car was found by
two Union County officers, aban-
doned in a ditch on a lonely road five
miles from the crime scene. The occu-
pants apparently had fled on foot, al-
though the gravel road was too rough
to reveal footprints.
Word of the discovery was flashed
to Inspector Galatian in his office at
- rial numbers,”
THE WITNESS
the Union County courthouse. “Don’t
touch the machine until we get the-
re,” he commanded the officers. ““We
might be able to get some fin-
gerprints.”
Joined by Chief Carmody, the in-
spector and two print experts sped
out to examine the murder car.
Without a doubt it was the auto in
which the slayers. had fled. Three bul-
let holes just below the tonneau
showed. where the motorcycle po-
liceman’s slugs had torn into the ma-
chine without effect.
The license plates were missing.
They had been bent off hurriedly from
their mountings to which two jagged
strips of steel still clung.
“The killers hardly would have had
time to chisel away the engine and se-
declared Galatian.
“We can trace the car through them.”
A brief glance inside the hood
showed the inspector to be correct,
and the numbers were jotted down
for checking with the files of the state
motor vehicle bureau.
Gingerly opening the doors with
‘other
gloved hands to avoid smudging pos-
sible prints, the detectives searched
the car’s interior. Blood stained both
the front seat cushion and the rear car-
pet. They found no gun, and only one
object—a woman’s pow-
derpuff, almost hidden in the crevice
between the cushion and back of the
front seat.
“Dr. Moore must have been right
when he reported hearing the killers
talking about a woman,” said Carmo-
dy. “But if she was in this car, was
she an accomplice or another victim?”
“That’s hard to tell,” observed Ga-
latian. “Moore said he heard them
saying something about getting rid of
her. That could mean one of two
things—dropping her off alive or
dead.”
The inspector’s experts carefully
dusted the steering wheel, gear shift
_ (continued on page 42)
George Brandon roamed free
for two years before justice
caught up with him.
CADRE
“ae nem nmrmanamn
SHRANDO) ~ " mn nee
VN, George (LAMBI we
4
|
Pm
FSET AARSD ONE
The cover-up for one murder...was another
white
by GEORGE LAVORATO
New Jersey
State Reformatory at Linden stood etched in the bright
moonlight at 2 o’clock that sultry August morning. On
the second floor of his house at the edge of the grounds,
Dr. Frank Moore, the superintendent, lay unable to sleep be-
Ts sprawling gray stone buildings of the
cause of the oppressive heat.
From the Rahway Turnpike
outside the hum of an. occasional passing auto came
through the windows above the drone of the peepers in the
nearby swamps.
Two shots split the air, bringing
Dr. Moore upright in bed. He sprang
to the nearest window, and on the
moonlit road saw two men dragging
a third from the driver’s seat of a
black touring car. The superintendent
reached for his telephone and asked
for Linden police headquarters.
In a moment Dr. Moore was de-
scribing to the desk officer the ma-
cabre scene he was witnessing:
“I’m afraid there’s a woman in
trouble, too, sergeant,” he said softly.
“I just overheard one of the men say,
‘We’ve got to get rid of the girl!’
You’d better get someone here in a
hurry. They’ ve dumped the fellow in-
to the ditch beside the pike... They’re
getting back into the car... They’re go-
ne!”
Directly across the street William
Lawson, auditor for an aircraft com-
pany, was dressing hastily. His wife
stood at their bedroom window,
[Factory exec Arthur Kupfer, |
shot dead with a beautiful
blonde in his car. _,
with trembling hands holding to her
eyes a pair of opera glasses trained on
the fleeing car. The Lawsons, too,
had been aroused by the shots.
Lawson and Dr. Moore reached the
street just as Motorcycle Patrolman
Herbert Orton arrived. There a man
lay face down with mud streaks on
his blue sports jacket and gray flan-
nels. He was hatless. Orton gently
FIENDS WHO
WENT TO
THE CHAIR
turned him over. Blood drenched his
shirtfront.
Dr. Moore knelt
and made a brief examination. “He’s
dead,” pronounced
heart. He was hit only once.”
Her body was nowhere arou
Meanwhile two mile
down the road, another pu
summoned from
NJSP (Union) 8/23/1921, °
Inspector John Galatian held
on to two sets of fingerprints
to identify the killers.
beside the body
the doctor.
“Looks like that bullet pierced his
Both he and Lawson were positive
~ there had been two shots. What, then
of the second bullet? Shuddering, the
reformatory superintendent told the -
motorcycle officer what he had heard
about the girl. Was she, too, dead?
an,
his post by Linden
headquarters, stood with his service
"Kets Waagnet, Metwler / 18
revolver drawn, beside his motorcy-
cle in the center of the highway to
block the oncoming black touring car.
The machine’s headlights appeared in
the distance and rapidly grew larger; .
its motor roared at top speed.
The policeman was clearly out-
lined in the glare of the headlamps,
but the driver neither slackened nor
swerved the auto. It roared straight at
the officer, who leaped for his life.
The car’s left fender sent the motorcy-
cle flying into the ditch. Cursing, the
policeman emptied his gun at the van-
ishing machine, but his shots went
wide of their mark.
By this time the alarm for the mur-
der car had been spread by telephone
throughout Union and Middlesex
Counties. All major roads and inter-
sections were guarded and ever)
available patrolman in the area wat
placed on the alert.
Back on the turnpike in Linden, o1
the outskirts of Rahway, Police Chie
Raymond Carmody and_ Inspecto
John A. Galatian, chief of Unio
County detectives, had arrived wit
several men.
Carmody and Galatian examine
the victim’s body and clothing fc
clues to his identity. He wore r
rings and his pockets contained ne
ther a wallet, bills nor change.
“Looks like a gang killing to me
observed Chief Carmody. He gaz:
northeast, where far away a di
glow hung in the sky, marking t
teeming boroughs of New York Cit
“Probably some ,of those East Si
toughs fram Manhattan. They thi
aided by an accurate description of her
furnished by the jeweler.
The girl had entered the store on De-
cember 4th and asked to be shown some
rings. She took four diamonds, valued
at $2,100, to the front of the store, say-
ing she wanted to examine them by day-
light. Suddenly the door was flung open
by a dark-haired man. The girl dashed
outside and sprang into a waiting car,
followed by her companion. A. third
man—a redhead—was at the wheel.
Hollinger, the jeweler, and his clerk
rushed out and fired several shots at the
fleeing machine, but all went wild.
Brandon, his bride, and Johnson were
led before the robbery victims, who iden-
tified them. Taken to the stationhouse
and booked on charges of armed rob-.
bery, the three denied their guilt. But
under questioning, Sally broke down and
confessed.
Sally Conrad turned State’s evidence
and was placed on probation. Her hus-
band and Johnson. were sentenced to ten
years each, the former in Auburn Prison
and the latter in Sing Sing. ‘Their .32-
calibre revolvers were impounded as evi-
dence, and the pair were fingerprinted
and their prints filed with the State De-
partment of Correction at Albany.
Over in New Jersey, Inspector Gala-
tian still doggedly sought to break the
Kupfer-Janny © case. “Somewhere,” he
told Chief Carmody during an ‘informal
conference early in 1920, “the killers of
that couple will make/a slip. We've elimi-
nated all motives but robbery. Any
pair of crooks desperate enough to mur-
der two innocent victims and toss them
out of a motor car. must be hardened
thugs. They'll strike again, possibly with
. the same weapon or weapons, or perhaps
they'll leave their prints’ behind. Then
we'll have ’em.”
Burdened as he was by current cases,
Galatian had made it a practice hever-
theleds to check regularly with the finger-
print files of surrounding states on the
chance that the killers somehow had be-
come enmeshed in the toils of the law.
But, pressed for time, the inspector could
make these checks only at fairly long in-
tervals. :
Accordingly, it was not until July,
1920, that Galatian got around to check-
ing again with the files of the New York
State Department of Correction. Brandon
and Johnson had gone to prison two
months before. The inspector was electri-
fied to learn that the prints of the pair
matched exactly those found on the car
in which Edith Janny and Arthur Kup-
fer were slain two years earlier!
Galatian speedily sent for the two .32-
calibre revolvers found on the men at
the time of their arrest in the gem rob-
bery. Ballistics experts established be-
yond all doubt that both lethal bullets
had come from the same gun—the re-
volver found in George Brandon’s pocket!
The inspector arid Carmody rushed to
Sing Sing and then to Auburn to question
the suspected killers. Grilled for hours,
Brandon steadfastly denied any connec-
tion with the double murder. But John-
son, after a few hours, cracked com-
pletely.
“We done the job, all right,” he said.
’ “But it was Brandon that fired the gun.
I didn't want no part of it” :
OHNSON confessed that on the night
of the crime he and Brandon were
standing on the corner of State and
High Streets in Perth Amboy, looking
for a victim to rob. Shortly after 1 a.m.,
a black touring car stopped for a traffic
sign. Kupfer was at the wheel and Edith
Janny sat beside him.
“We walked over and asked the guy
if he would give us a lift to the station
to catch the train for New York,” the
prisoner said. “He told us, ‘Sure, hop
in’ We got into the back seat and he
drove off. A couple of blocks down the
street, Brandon pushes his gun into this
guy’s back, while I do the same with the
girl. ‘Not a peep outa you, or I blast
you to blazes!’ Brandon says. I tell the
dame the same thing. ‘Get going,’ says
Brandon. ‘Get outa town.’ The doll starts
to cry, but. F slap her cheek and she
stops.”
They drove around for 15 minutes
until they reached the outskirts of the
city, Johnson went on, but Brandon
thought it unsafe to rob the pair so near
to town. So they forced Kupfer to drive
north. Before long they were in Linden,
opposite the reformatory. All the way,
Johnson had urged robbing the couple,
but Brandon thought it too risky in that
section.
“T tell Brandon we're getting into Rah-
way and it’s now or never,” he continued.
“He tells this Kupfer to stop the car. I
think we’re gonna grab the ice, put ‘em
outa the car and scram. But Brandon
goes nuts. First thing I know, after we
get the rings and dough, he plugs the
guy and then the doll. I’m scared, so
I help him put the guy’s body out. We've
stayed there too long, so we drive down
the road before we get rid of the dame.
That's how it was I had no part in the
killing.” ’
Brandon, ‘advised of Johnson’s confes-
sion, admitted taking part in the crime,
but accused Johnson of firing the fatal
shots. But the ballistics evidence showed
that Johnson was telling the truth.
Justice moved swiftly. Governor Al-
fred E. Smith of New York commuted
the robbery sentences of the pair so they
could be returned to’ New Jersey to face
the murder charges.
Both men were indicted by the Union
County grand jury on charges of first-
degree murder. At the trial in Elizabeth
before Judge Charles Bergen and a jury,
Edward Johnson turned State’s evidence
and testified against his companion in
crime.
On_ October 3rd, 1920, George Bran-
don was convicted of first-degree murder
and sentenced to die. Johnson pleaded
guilty to a manslaughter charge and was
sentenced to- four years at hard labor.
Because of appeals and legal delays,
it was two years before Brandon was
finally put to death in the electric chair
for the cold-blooded murders of an un-
suspecting blonde and her boy-friend,
The “Steve
Eprror’s NOTE: names
Baxter” and “Sally Conrad” used in the |
foregoing true-crime story are fictitious,
as the persons referred to by these names
had no part in the double murder, The
name “Edward Johnson” is also fictitious,
as this, man has paid his debt to, society
and has since gone straight, :
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A Bullet Bought The Witness
(continued from page 43)
dication that some had been removed. .
“The suit is cheap, but neat,” said
Carmody. “She probably bought it in
a bargain basement and that is the rea-
son that garment isn’t labeled.”
The girl’s white and brown shoes
bore the name of a nationally-known
manufacturer. ‘This, the detectives
knew, offered a remote chance of es-
tablishing her identity, since only
through patient and tedious tracing
from the manufacturer through the
jobber to the retailer could the buyer
be learned—if even then the search
was successful.
‘Inspector Galatian ordered the body
removed to the morgue, where autop-
sies on both victims could be per-
formed later in the day. The date was
Thursday, August 23, 1918.
Galatian and Carmody still were
without sleep at 8 a.m., when Mrs.
Kupfer arrived to look at the features
of the dead man. Battling to hold back
the tears, the elderly woman was led
into the morgue, where an attendant
pulled back the sheet that covered the
victim’s face.
“Yes!” she shrieked. “That’s my
Arthur! The Lord have mercy!”
Carmody supported the woman,
near collapse, and led her sobbing
from the room.
Now the investigators were certain
of the man’s identity. But who was
the beautiful blonde?
“I think,” said Galatian at Linden
headquarters, where a police matron
was comforting Mrs. Kupfer, “that
Kupfer was acquainted with the girl.
If we delve into his background and
activities, we may find out who she
is.”
“It’s our best bet,” agreed Carmo-
dy. “And the place to start is in Perth
Amboy, where Kupfer lived and
worked.”
While the chief and the inspector
went off duty for a few hours of bad-
ly needed sleep, detectives worked
with Chief Burke in the seaside city
to unearth any possible lead to the
mysterious double murder.
As they were questioning friends
and associates of the young factory
superintendent, Galatian’s office re-
ceived a call from the state motor ve-
hicle bureau at Trenton. The black
touring car was registered in Kupfer’s
name! :
44
Burke and the Perth Amboy investi-
gators talked with several persons
who had known Kupfer. Everyone
spoke highly of the young man, de-
claring him to be sober, industrious
and above reproach. He was best
known for the prominent part he took
in the activities of the Elks. He had an
interest in the cigar factory which he
superintended. As a good citizen, it
seemed incredible that anywhere in
his private life there should lurk a mo-
tive for his murder.
At last the detectives located his
most intimate friend, Joseph Polko-
witz, who gave the first clue to the
blonde’s identity.
“I know,” said the informant, “that
Arthur recently had been seeing a
young woman of this city. It seemed
strange to me, for he often told me he .
never would marry so long as his
mother lived. He was devoted to his
mother and phoned her every day. I
don’t think he could have been serious
about this girl.”
“Who is she?” demanded Burke ea-
gerly.
“Edith Janny, cashier at the Hotel .
Madison.”
The detectives sped to the hotel,
where they learned that the striking
blonde had not reported for work that
day. The manager had assumed she
was ill. Now he called her home, and
her widowed mother reported tear-
fully that Edith had not come home all
night!
At the Janny residence, a modest
white frame house, Burke and his
men found the mother hysterical. with
worry. At the sight of the officers,
she paled. Chief Burke told Mrs. Jan-
ny he feared her daughter had met
with an. accident, and asked her to go
with them to Linden.
On the way to the morgue, the
chief broke the grim truth to steel the
mother for the ordeal to come. After a
fit of sobbing, she calmed sufficiently
to view the remains. Knowing what
to expect, Mrs. Janny was outward-
ly calm, but tense, as she spoke quiet-
ly.
“That is Edith. Whata pity!”
Inspector Galatian and Chief Car-
mody, back on duty, conferred with
Chief Burke and the other detectives
at Linden headquarters.
“Obviously,” said Galatian, “Kupf-
er and Miss Janny had a date last
night. Her mother knew she was
going out, but not with whom. We
must press our inquiry on two fronts
now—into the activities of the slain
couple last night, and into the back-
ground of the girl.”
Returning to Perth Amboy with
Burke, the inspector took charge of
the entire investigation. During the
rest of the day and far into the eve-
‘ning, they worked steadily.
Edith Janny was a young woman
with a great many friends, most of
them girls who had been high school
chums. Thus it was not difficult for
the investigators to paint, from the
Statements of the victim’s acquaint-
ances, an accurate picture of her char-
acter and life.
Although — fun-loving, Edith was
strictly a home girl, quiet, decent,
well-respected. She was fond of ten-
nis and liked to swim on the famous
New Jersey beaches. Her brother and
two sisters said she had had about as
many beaux as other girls in her set,
but there seemed to be only one youth
of whom Edith was at all fond: He
was Jasper Conway, a chauffeur,
who had been sent to Camp Dix in
the draft two months earlier. He and
Edith did not correspond.
Quickly suspecting that Conway
might have heard that Edith had fallen
in love with the young cigar factory
boss while he was in uniform, and
that jealousy had motivated the dou-
ble killing, the detectives checked
with his parents. Jasper, they said,
had not been home since he went into
the Army. Camp Dix authorities ex-
amined his service record and inter-
viewed his company commander.
The young soldier had not been away
from the military reservation since his
induction.
Further inquiry in Perth Amboy
brought to light the fact that on the
eve of their deaths Kupfer and Miss
Janny had been on a double date. The
others with them were Ivan Sampler
and Geraldine Harrison, who was a
saleswoman in Sampler’s small de-
partment store in Perth Amboy.
Sampler said that he and Kupfer, in
the latter’s car, met the girls by ap-
pointment in a roadside dining place
at Seidler’s Beach at 8 p.m. They ate,
and danced for a couple of hours, and
then started back to Perth Amboy, the
store owner told the investigators.
“It was just an ordinary evening,”
(continued on next page) _
,
,mmed The Corpse
~*->m page 41)
>i Oo
wv OO mm WY + = WH 8 Ye
iat |
mh hw a oe
ing that he had wanted to keep his af-
fair with Uschi Frey secret, he would
have gone somewhere else. ~
Thinking that he might have let fall
some hint as to where he was going
at work, the sergeant began at the de-
partment store cafeteria and was stu-
pefied to learn that Koester had been
met by his wife when he left work
.that evening. They had gone off to-
gether on foot.
The sergeant immediately concen-
trated his men in the area around the
department store and soon located a
small tavern called the Bit am Schloss
where Koester and his wife had
passed the last evening of his life.
Both were well known in the tav-
em and, to the sergeant’s aston-
ishment, so was Uschi Frey who had
spent the evening with them.
Tavern owner Luise Manger re-
ported that all three had left together
at around midnight and she added
something else which, in the light of
subsequent events; now took on a si-
ister aspect.
Jutta had said to Wolfgang, “Go
on. Give Uschi a kiss. You won’t be
seeing her much longer.”
“That’s it!” said the inspector.
“Pick up all three of the girls. I think
we can sustain charges against Mrs.
Koester and Miss Frey, at least.”
Jutta Koester indignantly denied
any involvement in her husband’s
death, but as she said in her original
Statement to the police—that she had
seen him after ten o’clock in the eve-
ning of March 31st when she went to
bed—her position was weak.
Ursula Frey was not made of such
stern stuff and confessed rather quick-
ly. The murder, she said, had been
planned by the three girls because
Wolfgang was a nuisance and _ be-
cause of the insurance money.
She and Jutta had persuaded Wolf-
gang to drive to lovers’ lane where
‘they were to engage in three-way
sex in romantic surroundings. Rosa-
lyn had followed them secretly in her
yellow Volkswagen. .
As soon as Wolfgang had got out of
the car, they had attacked him all to-
gether and had got the noose over his
‘head. Jutta and Ursula had pulled on
the ends of the clothesline while Ro-
salyn punched him in the face.
They nad gone home to spend the
night in Ursula’s and Rosalyn’s apart-
ment.
Jutta Koester eventually added her
confession, but Rosalyn Baensch nev-
er admitted to a part in the actual mur-
der. She had punched Koester in the
face, she said, but she had never in-
tended to kill him. .
The court made some fine distinc-
tions in the degree of guilt and, on
March 11, 1988, found all three guilty
of murder and conspiring to commit
murder, but sentenced Jutta Koester
to twenty years imprisonment while
Ursula Frey and Rosalyn Baensch got
off with fourteen and twelve years
respectively. *
A Bullet Bought The Witness
(continued from page 19)
knob and brake levers and other parts
of the car’s interior with powdered
French chalk.
The powder readily showed up a
-mass of prints on the levers and on the
wheel, but these were too jumbled to
be singled out. Just above the dash-
board, and on the top of the left front
door, however, the experts brought
out two sets of prints, each clear
enough to be photographed.
“Let’s hope,” said Galatian earnest-
ly, “that neither of these sets was
nade by the victim.”
As a tow car from Linden head-
quarters arrived to haul the murder car
back for closer examination, Gala-
tian and Carmody returned to Linden
to discuss their next move in the
turnpike horror.
In the inspector’s office they found
word awaiting them from Perth Am-
boy. Aided by Chief Burke, Gala-
tian’s men had located the clothier
who had sold the jacket, at his home.
He readily identified the garment as
one which he had made up especially
for “a particular customer”’—Arthur
L. Kupfer, superintendent of a Perth
Amboy cigar factory. The description
of Kupfer, 30, dark and handsome, »
corresponded with that of the victim.
From tenants in the waterfront
building where Kupfer had a three-
foom apartment, Galatian’s men
(continued on next page)
- “it would seem that she was wearing.
learned that the young factory boss
had only one close relative—his
mother, who lived on St. Nicholas
Avenue in New York City. The in-
spector immediately telephoned her, |:
asking her to come to Linden and |
view the victim’s remains to verify |
the identification. : ‘
At daybreak, as Mrs. Kupfer was |.
on her way to the Linden morgue, the
case took another startling turn.
The officers, still searching the area |
where the car was discovered, came |
upon the shapely body of a girl. Clad |
in a white linen suit, streaked with |
blood, she lay face down in a gully
beside the road, a mile nearer Linden |
than where the auto was abandoned. |,
Gore from a bullet wound above her |
left ear matted her long blonde hair,
done up in a bun in the back. Her |
large blue eyes were fixed in a sight- |
less stare. She was ravishingly pretty,
even in death.
Beside her lay a man’s light tan |
cap, pierced on the left side by a bul-
let hole. Leaving his companion to |
stand guard over the corpse, the other }
officer sped to the nearest police box |
and telephoned Inspector Galatian.
His face drawn and his eyes blood- |
shot from lack of sleep, the inspector }
snapped instantly alert at the news of |
the second victim’s discovery. He and
Chief Carmody raced to the scene.
Was this the woman to whom the |
killers had referred when they hauled }
the dead man’s body out of the car? If
so why was she killed? Who wa
she?
“From the location of the bullet}
hole in the cap and the wound in the
girl’s head,” observed the inspector,
the cap when she was shot.” |
Whose was it? Could it have been
that of the dead man, who was hat-
less? Or did it belong to one of the
killers?
The Union County medical exam-
iner arrived shortly and made a curso-
ry examination. ‘
“She has been dead for about four
hours,” declared the physician. “That
would place the time of her death as
approximately that of the man found
opposite the reformatory. Apparently
the cause of death was the single bul-
let which entered her skull above the
left ear and lodged in the brain.”
‘The detectives examined the body |
for clues. The girl’s clothing, which
was intact, bore no labels nor any in-:
(continued on next page)
«
.
wy
Cn
f Sampler recalled. “We dropped Ger-
: aldine off first at her rooming house.
Then Kupfer and Edith drove me to
my home. That was about 11
o’clock. They didn’t come in, but left
together. That was the last I saw of
them.”
The detectives checked the story
/ carefully with roadhouse employes
. | and neighbors of both Sampler and
Miss Harrison. Every detail rang true.
_ The two couples had left the road
_ house shortly after 10 o’clock; the
' saleswoman had been seen to return
home around 11, and soon afterward,
the store owner himself :
Where were the young superinten-
dent and his lovely blonde companion
from 11 o’clock until 2, when the
shots were fired? What were they
doing on the turnpike in Linden, ten
miles north of Perth Amboy and in the
opposite direction from the road-.
house? All inns between the seashore
city and Linden were checked, but
the slain couple had not visited any of
them.
On the following day the autopsy
reports were returned to Inspector
Galatian. Kupfer had been killed by a
.32-caliber slug which had entered
his chest high above the heart and had
taken a downward course into that
organ. Miss Janny had died of a simi-
lar slug in her brain. Powder burns
ringed each wound. The shots had
been fired from close range.
Reconstructing the shooting, the
detectives reasoned that the killer sat
in the rear seat of the car and held the ©
gun close to Kupfer, at the wheel,
and then to Edith Janny’s head. Since
the shots apparently were fired after
the car had stopped, the slayers
would not fear that Kupfer would
lose control and wreck the machine.
The girl had not been criminally as-
saulted.
Checking with the relatives of the
victims, the detectives learned that
Kupfer had worn a $600 diamond
ring and was in the habit of carrying
large sums in his wallet, while Miss —
Janny had on a small diamond ring.
All were missing. Could the motive,
after all, have been robbery? Or were
the valuables stolen to make the crime
look like a robbery?
Still another possible motive was
suggested later in the day when an
employe of the cigar factory revealed
that he had been driving with his boss
on a Perth Amboy street one day
when the superintendent pointed to a
arr
man walking nearby.
“That fellow will get me some
day,” Kupfer said. “He’s got it in for
me. I’m not to blame, but he’s got it
in for me and he’ ll get me.”
The man was a discharged em-
ploye, but Kupfer had not mentioned
his name and the informant could give
only a vague description of him. This
at best was a feeble lead.
The bullet-pierced cap which Miss
Janny had been wearing was identi-
fied as Kupfer’s. The powderpuff
was obviously hers. Now, the only
clues left were the slugs removed
from the bodies, and the two sets of
fingerprints found on the murder car.
The bullets were turned over to
ballistics experts for examination,
and microphotographs of the mark-
ings on them were placed on record.
The fingerprints were copied and sent
to New York City Police Depart-
ment. But they checked with no
prints of known criminals in any of
these files.
Days and weeks passed as Inspec-
tor Galatian and the other investiga-
tors worked patiently to develop a
new lead in the case. They made no
progress. All efforts failed to find the
‘ disgruntled employe who supposedly
had threatened Kupfer. The officers
reluctantly conceded they were at a —
dead end.
During the months that followed,
the investigators of necessity were
compelled to occupy themselves with
other duties and more pressing cases,
but they stubbornly refused to drop
the Kupfer-Janny murders as_ un-
solved. Whenever they could find
time, they dug into the mystery again
to keep it alive.
In November the first World War
came to an abrupt end. The jubilant
celebration of the Armistice swept
the nation. Only the families of the
victims—and the officers who had
handled the case—remembered that
the slayers of Edith Janny and Arthur
Kupfer were still at large. .
A year passed, and then late on the
cold, blustering afternoon of Friday,
December 12, 1919, a willowy bru-
nette of 17 named Mary Logan and a
husky, red-haired man of 29 named
George Brandon walked together
down a corridor of the ancient bo-
rough hall in Brooklyn, and presented
themselves before the marriage li-
cense clerk. They were accompanied
by a dark-haired young man who
gave his name as Samuel Miller.
Brandon and Miss Logan were
married in a civil ceremony, at which
Miller acted as the witness. The hap-
py trio departed to celebrate.
But back at Mary’s home in Eighty-
first Street in Manhattan’s Yorkville
district, New York City Detectives
William Smith, Frank Grossman and
Peter Skelly were questioning her
mother.
“My daughter is being married in
Brooklyn this afternoon,” explained
the puzzled Mrs. Logan. “What do
you want? Is—is she in some trou-
ble?”
The detectives were waiting inside
the door when the boisterous wed-
ding party entered.
“Put ‘em up—fast!” commanded
Smith and the trio quickly complied.
The two men glowered and the girl
burst into tears as the detectives
searched them. In the coat pockets of
each man, they found a .32-caliber re-
volver. The girl was unarmed.
“Now, we'll tell you why we
wanted your daughter, Mrs. Logan,”
explained Smith. “She’s the girl
who got away with four diamond
rings ten days ago in that robbery at
Armin Hollinger’s jewelry store on
Third Avenue, just around the cor-
ner.”
The detective did not disclose that
Mary Logan had been traced by a me-
thodical canvass of the neighborhood,
aided by an accurate description of
her given by the jeweler. The girl had
entered the store on December 4 and
asked to be shown some rings. She
took four diamonds, valued at
$2,100, to the front, saying she
wanted to examine them by day-
_ light. Suddenly the door was flung
open by a dark-haired man. The girl
dashed outside, and ‘sprang into a
waiting car, followed by her com-
panion. A third man—a redhead—
was at the wheel, and the auto sped
away.
Hollinger, the jeweler, and his
clerk rushed out. and fired several
shots at the fleeing machine. All went
wild.
Led before the robbery victims,
Brandon, his bride and Miller all
were identified. Taken to the station-
house and booked on charges of
armed robbery, the three denied their
guilt. But under questioning, Mary
broke down and confessed.
Mary Brandon turned state’s evi-
dence and was placed on_ probation.
(continued on next page)
A Bullet Bought The Witness
(continued from page 45)
Her husband and Miller were sen-
tenced to ten years each, the former in
Auburn and the latter in Sing Sing.
‘Their .32-caliber revolvers were im-
pounded as evidence, and the pair
were duly fingerprinted and their
prints filed with the State Department
of Correction at Albany.
Over in New Jersey, meanwhile,
Inspector Galatian still doggedly
sought to break the Kupfer-Janny
case.
. “Somewhere,” he told Chief Car-
mody during an informal conference
early in 1920, “the killers of that cou-
ple will make a slip. We’ve elimi-
nated all motives but that of robbery.
Any pair of crooks desperate enough
to murder two innocent victims and
toss them out of a motor car must be
hardened thugs. They’ll strike again,
possibly with the same weapon or
weapons, or perhaps they’ll leave
their prints behind. Then we’ll have
them.” ,
Although he was heavily burdened
by current cases, Galatian had made it
a practice to check regularly with the
fingerprint files of surrounding states
on the chance that somehow, the kill-
ers had become enmeshed in the toils
of the law. Pressed for time, the in-
spector could make these checks only
at fairly long intervals.
' Accordingly it was not until July,
1920, before Galatian got around to
checking again with the files of the
New York Department of Correction
at Albany. Brandon and Miller had
gone to prison but two months be-
fore.
Galatian was electrified to learn
that the prints of the pair matched ex-
actly of those found on the car in
which Edith Janny and Arthur Kupfer
were slain two years earlier!
Acting speedily, the inspector sent
for the two .32-caliber revolvers
found on the men at the time of their
arrest in the jewel robbery. Ballistics
experts, through a careful examina-
tion of test bullets and a comparison
of these with the murder slugs, estab-
lished beyond all doubt that both le-
thal bullets had come from the same
gun—the revolver found in Brandon’s
‘pocket!
Galatian and Carmody ‘rushed to
Albany and then to Auburn to ques-
tion the suspected killers. Grilled for
Bc
hours, Brandon steadfastly denied any
connection with the double murder.
But Miller, after a few hours, cracked
completely.
“Yeah, we done the job, all right.
But it was Brandon who fired the .
gun. I didn’t want no part of it.”
On the night of the crime, Miller
confessed, he and Brandon were
standing on the corner of State and
High Streets in Perth Amboy, looking
for a victim to rob. Shortly after 1
A.M. a black touring car stopped for a
traffic sign. Kupfer was at the wheel
and Edith Janny sat beside him.
“We walked over and asked this
guy if he would give us a lift to the
Station to catch the train for New
York. He said, ‘Sure. Hop in.’ We
got into the back seat and he drove
off. A couple of blocks down the
street, Brandon pushes his gun into
this guy’s back, while I do the same
with the girl. ‘Not a peep outa you, or
I'll blast you to blazes!’ says Bran-
don. I tell the dame the same thing.
‘Get going,’ says Brandon. ‘Get out
of town.” The twist starts to cry, but
I slap her cheek and she stops.” They
drove around for 15 minutes until they
reached the outskirts of ‘the city, but
Brandon thought it unsafe to rob the
pair so near town, Miler continued,
so they forced Kupfer to head north.
Before long they were in Linden, op-
posite the reformatory. All the way,
Miller had urged robbing the couple,
but Brandon thought it unsafe. “I told
Brandon we were getting into Rah-
way and it was now or never,” de-
clared the prisoner. “He told this
Kupfer guy to stop the car on the turn-
pike. I thought we was gonna grab
his ice, put ‘em outa the car and
scram. But Brandon goes nuts. First
thing I know, after we get the rings
and the dough, he plugs the guy and
then the gal. I was scared then, so I
helped him put the guy’s body out.
We’d stayed too long, so we drove
down the road before getting rid of
the dame.”
Advised of Miller’s confession,
Brandon admitted taking part in the
crime, but accused Miller of firing the
fatal shots. The ballistics evidence,
however, showed that Miller was
telling the truth.
The wheels of justice ground rap-
idly. Governor Alfred E. Smith of
New York readily granted the peti-
tion of the Union County district at-
torney that the robbery sentences of
the pair be commuted so they could be
returned to New Jersey to face the
murder charges.
Both were indicted by the Union
County grand jury on charges of first
degree murder. At the trial in Eliza-
beth, before Justice Charles Bergen
and a jury, Miller turned state’s evi-
dence and testified against his accom-
plice.
On October 3, 1920, George Bran-
don was convicted of first degree
murder and sentenced to die. Miller
pleaded guilty to manslaughter and
was sentenced to four years at hard
labor.
Because of appeals and legal delays
it was almost two years before Bran-
don was put to death in the electric
chair for the cold-blooded murders of
an unsuspecting blonde and her boy-
friend. *
The Streetwalker
Was Butchered
Like A Pig
(continued from page 17)
her niece again. Her body, when it
was recovered, was in too fearful a
State that anyone outside the police
was ever allowed to view it. Identifi-
cation was made through comparison
of fingerprints taken from the corpse
and from the equipment which Mar-
ie-Helene had used at the hairdressing
school.
It was, in any case, no more than
confirmation of the identity. Miss Du-
bois had provided a picture of her
niece when she reported her missing
for the last time and the face of the
corpse was not so badly swollen as to
be recognizable. 7
The police not only did not know
who had killed Marie-Helene; they
did not even know who found her
body.
An anonymous telephone call by a
male voice reported that the body of a
dead woman was lying near a bridle
path in the Bois de Boulogne, the
great park to the west of the city.
A patrol car was sent to investigate
and Marie-Helene was found lying
sprawled on her back with obscenely
(continued on next page)
t Holly, New Jersey, on Dec. 3, 1901.
CMG
eee
(90f- Charles Briwny seatensed Soke hanced; sex rienden
ef Cw arshine tow Idan ter \ Pw poe d tell Grte Keepen,
fi Few bedides beFrre Ae wes te he aI
Executed he sdruoclk wt. Swe wards with A
bhudeem he made Frem A lend Pip e he fad
wipped From his cell , They Kneeked FAR “HER pen
Frem his hiuds AS he Fled puto The Court
yard ; ke Rersed AN BX do etmilla wt The
We epee ; but wAS enpfored And Ww As Leetuted
At Once under hx avy OD Maik:
“Mite pion of the receipt of the first message
the vRenate tent ‘AS aeseru bbe} eariy in
2 ae Too = wl bevtriit ng eae
treme of
be principal featurea of the nicssa ge.
state paper of the . Eres\dems. ‘wae
f eh teh. tent threughnt the morning,
fillet with teteresting sper fatoma,
merest i The mensage ©
eonmtintives Shere Wasim gon! alicndance ‘tn the
‘Roof the message o The members gathered
. Preape: cee ira wis tioa.. The malin topic wae
“ree ntent 6s, 5 es bee 5
6 igus age fp full:
ae
a eed
presenta. and intimate of one relationa - There
vo eeakt be po personal batred of bim
SPAS Gor he never acted with Gught bus con-
vamliy.) sideration fer the welfare of others.
vugeut) No ene could fail te reapect Rim who
aatebist | Riew bia to public or, private life.
mertcan | The. Gefeuders of those murdervus
i; hen tm,
died /ftiminals who seek to excuse thelr
of that | lertranality by axeerting thet ft fs ex-
-verclasd for political ends, invelgh
f against wealth apd irresponsible pow-
infered. (CF Bat for {hie sasassination even
tact dots base apology: cannot be urged.
among | REPRESENTED NATION'S WEAL.
More Predceat McKinley was a man of
ia. the | Mederste means, g man whose stock
merican|SPtang from the sturdy tillers of the
sinister ; Sl, who bad bimself belonged among
Larrea the wage-werkers, who had entered
the art:y as a private soldier. Wealth
Rigas ah tot struck at when tbe Presktent
Lis: jas astasalnited, buat the honest teil
rrilde | Which ie content with moderate gains
Lf civit [after a lifetime ef anrecitting labor,
‘te: epee. the. persis St: the _publie.
we
“or
poem cine yhulnSin hn sina aetbat
\@ivideal The tlow was not aimed at
wd '¢svanny or wealth. 1t was atmed at
sone ef the strongest. champioos the
-| wage-worker has ever’ had; at ‘one of
bj the most faithful representatives of
‘the system of public rights and repre.
sentative gouremment who has ever
Tieeg to pubile office Presideat. Mc
Ainies Milled that political office for
whieh the entire people vote, and ne
| President—not even Linceln biniself—
was ever More earnestiy snaxioas te
‘Tepreseat the well thought-out wishes
of the people: his one anxiety in every
periais was to keep in closest touch
with the people—to find ont what they
? pees bt and to end-ayor to give. ex:
3 a:
endeavored tq guide. that “thought
right. He bad fust been reelected
to the Presidency because the majority | snot
of yer eRinenn, the majority. of -cor
jfarmers and wage-wérkers, . delleved
*j}thst he had faithfully ophed thetr
tatereets: for four yearv. They felt
themeeives in cinee. and” te
tomch with him. “They felt that be
| represented so well and so honorably
" { all. their ‘Weals asd aspirations | that
peal Sa et +t he cae arlene eaten ii
conse ED om Page fds
ee
i “wn ‘Capital of the Leland of
ernl Lakbean bas. ered te eegotiate
} terme. of surrender with Geaaral
jth. Te thle offer the Americas
mmanher replied that the Time fer
& Ldediesant Commande James
bed pessed.”
teln. Commanding the Watied Btates | |
f génbent Frolic, during Nevembes de.
ous sifoyet 147 beets engages in Wang.
og Coat anki be Woargevte | ie
‘pave
wapectally the Peeaident’s clees S Berecea and |
jcomplcity in the mamter of Washing.
het berger sere erebetel
ome SIS es
MURDERER TRIED
TO KILL MINISTER,|-
ASSIS SRM ent
He Thought to Escape the
Gallows by Another
ne Homicide. : oa
a &
Mount Holly Soa Shee, 2. “Chatiew
Brown Was banged at 1006 today foy
ton Hunter: Death was.
slantapeous
Balers the. enecution tuck. ‘place b
seneational srepe wes emacted in the
County Prison -When BtOwn, rendered
Geaperate by fear of tite’ gallows, at-
apie -
tempted to eecepe. cere es fae NS
at 8:30 o'clock thls’. storming the
death warrant was read to Brown avd
be was left alone im his cell with the
Rey. Mr. Deisisger.. While the minie
ter was reading the scriptures |
assaulted bim with an iron bar, whicty
he had concealed In Als ceil, The
cre wen was rendered uoconsciots,
and wn walke@ ost of hia cell inté
the corridor. He made his way to the
jail yard, and attempted Se ae
wall. :
we
elale.. The Bherif
btm. and Brown, seeing the ie
eee
and was ied beck /
erackinatie Hunter, for wioee mur
der Brown wae . was @ wealthy)
retired farmer of care, = Hved
with bis wife at: Riverside: X
the uight of | Steet 25 last, ‘Chariea
Brown, John Young
and Ot@ Keller forced an entrance
trte Hess * pues “Ee keel ntaeyee
of
J.
| evaeore
Rivera wae found
_ where he wat servin
barghery. Governor
2 term
ell per
bromght hose foe. trlal oa ihe mareet
Kerib ee eS een Mary
beth coreg tn fe ibe Tirst Gegrer
were Ww have pbeee hanged
fo
¥e
tacked bie spiritual - matiser, and at.
har pitiless bean
the Pleree eyasticese.
: | WASH BOYERS 8
Oa} oo.
Millee]
nd not be
— | papera securing bis pardon, as hone of
ithe partion whose name, wer Daeg
te a AE = ST
PIERCE SYNDICATE
RS ae ee a ce gg
Said in Have Secured Con-
% trol ofa Mexicen <
Railroad. _
is reported on retiible aiiberits that}
{the H." Clay Plerte syndicate, which].
owns a: ir haga :
interest “In te St
big ‘the deal” ie =
Pierce syndicate will, 12 9 paid. aben-
“ion that part of the propeted Kansas
City, Mexican and Orient hich rons
from Texas to Kansas Cy, A line
wil be constructed from éither June-
uon City or Mason, Tex.,to Sierra
pratice tes the State of Chihuahua,
Jexico, where connection will be bad
with the Mexican Northern, which
rune from Sterra Mo da t
on the Mexican Central a as Eecajon,
The Cithuahew and Pactfe, which
rons fretwn the of Chihuabnua to a
potnt about 120 weat toward the
snd-oti-
* division Fad the ie yrieen Bystem.
_ AGAIN | SENTENCED.
Wash Bayes a ‘meinber of ee pal
bent Cocke county: totally, who suc-
ceeded tn securieg h 8 release from
the ftate: pentenieee! “Se 1808 hy
meand.of papers alleged to coh heen
forged by tinal hag Lag
10 teh years to prison, Rs. entnoek
deeds to
te tor the alleged forgery
hia fetber’p.- whem he be
po beter
the papers, It te sald,
sinters of thelr right ia the. eatate,
The Hypreme Court hel Boyer could
letest for the Corgery ef the
were | Jalurwd _ eerehy
AWS BRANCHING our.|
TRESDENT. SIGE EDHESS.
eal Pee
4 @bout three hundred abd laasaet eae
“ papers aré arid or semiarid and fir
Fred hie Nie land oh Soult be sede nae No the
ibe Scent eat gia are et
Jordet that euch settler: may make 8. (4,
a defraud the
at ar
TUVE ‘Stock MEN
‘MEET AN CHICAGO.
The ‘National “Association
“will Make Important
Recommendations Pll
ha to Congre ee see
ne ee ee
* chicess” "Des. 3.—The ‘Sth. annual |
courention of the National Live Stock
Apeociation Began here at the Stude-
baker Theater today, with nearly 1.000
Getegates present, It ie expected the
eouvpntion wet » io semis, vilb ees
Oay.:
Oa wecesela? a “Thursday the
cdntaina little besides pa:
on subjects of Intereat to grang-
madera nice interested tu the cattie
“They. will’ cover a wide
range eat thought, and wilt be present.
y men who ere specialists. =~
The asnual.sddreas of Hoa. Joho Ww. :
Springer, Preatdemt of the Association.
was read during the forencon. It was
ab extensive and able decument, em- |
pret! these eparians, recommends.
8:
“We believe, said Mr. ‘Springer, “1p
ag pe Icien that the federa) govern-
eek eeould go out of the teat bet:
ns as soon 0 it Je practicable
iaitgonty bas Try ‘the public do-
aig on DAG. actea,..
} Deietad.. :
states. We da however, favor the;
ati’ and s
storage of | *
t, will attract. moisture and/
create @ greater rain fall which will”
ate yh for the betterment 6f the sun-j ”
burued = tapges ever. this W
had
r, in
ah
t pet
rie
Meing out Of his Beldings, which he
ean not do now en tw acres that ace thet
su ; i
will afd ta fu hones for tPeat-
wands of American citizens anil will
to bettlodhe araputes “Me: | 2
the tartle men amd the aheep |
- the se Of these lands fer
ke bod. pte
tnfence, nacwutre public renge
ever, and this fact gust be
the Valerie tw eachange with sctas!
settlers such lind as remains for land |
of tL walue, thus exebliag them to
their boldiags, w fence thett)
erty, ty provide water asd to fee
er the grosses, This will co ally
breeders upoe an eqaathy apd eaabie.
then to add lator ments we fear
ryt hy! fontiacatlon.* a
prayer nat fot ayers
wr speaks 8
h
|
w™
a
Lt.
«atelier teg HSN : . . . h
PRANDON,, George (LAMBLE) elec, NJ (Union) 8-23-1921,
A
as"
Miscarriages of Justice in Potentially Capital Cases
Hugo Adam Bedau
Michael L. Radelet
Reprinted from the Stanford Law Review
Volume 40, No. 1, November 1987
© 1987 by Hugo Adam Bedau and Michael L. Radelet
136 STANFORD LAW REVIEW (Vol. 40:21
cies. Alibi witnesses also came forward, and it became evident that one
of the defendants had been beaten by the police into confessing. In
1966, the convictions were reversed and a new trial ordered.°°? The
state’s appeal to vacate this order was denied.®* In 1969, the Louisi-
ana courts, reluctant to admit their errors, sentenced the men to time
served—sixteen years on death row—and released them.®* “[I]f it
were not for the long delays of executions brought about by the oft-
damned ‘legal loopholes,’ these two men would have been executed
sixteen years before they were finally released, and their cases closed
with nobody giving a hang that they had been unjustly convicted.”’665
LaMBERT, Henry J. (white). 1901. Maine. Lambert was convicted
of first-degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. The con-
viction was affirmed on appeal.®66 The conviction was based on cir-
cumstantial evidence in an atmosphere of great public outcry; the
defendant, a French Canadian, could not speak English. The trial
judge believed in Lambert’s innocence, and after the conviction, sev-
eral citizens continued to demand a reinvestigation. In 1923, after
Governor Baxter and the Executive Council became convinced that
Lambert was innocent, the defendant received a full pardon. He had
spent twenty-two years in prison. After his release, he was driven di-
rectly from the prison to be welcomed to freedom by the Governor. As
Borchard wrote, ‘“‘[The evidence] demonstrates how the impossible
may be transformed into reality when one is blinded by prejudice or a
revengeful spirit, as the prosecution and the jury must have been. . . .
Reviewing the case impartially, it seems almost incredible that a jury
acting on the evidence introduced could have found a verdict of guilty
against Lambert.’’667
LamBLE, HAROLD (alias George Brandon) (white). 1920. New
Jersey. Lamble was convicted of murder, sentenced to death, and exe-
cuted in 1921. His conviction was affirmed on appeal.®®8 Lamble con-
sistently asserted his innocence. After the execution, Governor
Edwards refused requests to appoint a special counsel to investigate the
case, despite what the New York Times called a “rather widespread fear
that perhaps” Lamble was innocent.®6® Lamble’s attorney was dis-
barred for mishandling the defense.°7° Testimony of an alleged accom-
662. Labat v. Bennett, 365 F.2d 698 (5th Cir. 1966).
663. Bennett v. Labat, 386 U.S. 991 (1967).
664. B. WoLFE, supra note 611, at 296-98.
665. Id. at 297-98; see also Maas, The Man Who May Break Chessman's Death-Cell Record,
Look, July 19, 1960, at 19.
666. State v. Lambert, 97 Me. 51, 53 A. 879 (1902).
667. E. Borchard, Memorandum on the Lambert Case 10, 14 (unpublished manuscript)
(on file with the Stanford Law Review). See generally Files of the Maine State Archives; Bangor
Daily News, July 25, 1923, at 1, col. 1; Daily Kennebec J., July 25, 1923, at 1, col. 7; N.Y.
Times, July 25, 1923, at 6, col. 3.
668. Lamble v. State, 96 N.J.L. 231, 114 A. 346 (1921).
669. N.Y. Times, Aug. 30, 1921, at 14, col. 5.
670. In re McDermit, 96 N.J.L. 17, 114 A. 144 (1921).
|
|
|
|
November 1987] MISCARRIAGES OF JUSTICE 137
plice and Lamble’s admission on the witnes
convictions led to his conviction.67!
Lamson, Davip (white). 1933. California. Lamson was convicted of
first-degree murder for killing his wife and sentenced to death. On a
peal, the conviction was reversed and a new trial ordered.672 In his
book, We Who Are About to Die, Lamson (a graduate of Stanford Univer-
sity and an employee of Stanford University Press) explains that when
he went to trial, he and his attorneys were confident his innocence
would be established. “It never occurred to any of us that anything but
an acquittal might result.”673 The conviction was based entirely on cir-
cumstantial evidence; no murder weapon, evidence of motive, or con-
fession was introduced at trial. The state supreme court concluded in
part: “Every statement of the defendant, capable of verification, tends
to support his claims. It is true that he may be guilty, but the evidence
thereof is no stronger than mere suspicion. It is better that a guilty
man escape than to condemn to death one who may be innocent.’’674
Lamson spent thirteen months on death row in San Quentin. The jury
in a second trial was unable to agree on a verdict, as was the jury in a
third trial. Shortly thereafter, the judge dismissed all charges on the
recommendation of the prosecutor, who claimed that it was impossible
to obtain a jury to convict the defendant.®75 Thirty years later a jour-
nalist described Lamson as “[o]ne of the 20th century’s most distin-
guished victims of a capital error.’676
LanGLey, Gus Co tin (white). 1932. North Carolina. Langley was
convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to death. The convic-
tion was based in part on the perjured testimony of Langley’s cellmate.
who claimed that he had heard Langley confess to the crime. After this
testimony, unrelated charges against the cellmate were dropped.677
Only twenty-five minutes before the scheduled execution, a technicality
saved Langley’s life. His head had been shaved and he had already
eaten his final meal when it was discovered that the judge, in pronounc-
ing the death sentence, had neglected to mention that the conviction
was for “first-degree” murder.678 Letters from several witnesses who
had testified that Langley was 400 miles away on the day of the crime
S stand of his previous
671. See generally Public Hearing on Assembly Bills Nos. 33 & 34 (Abolition of Capital
Punishment) Before the New Jersey Leg. Assembly, Judiciary Comm., at 26A-34A (June 19.
1958) (second day, testimony of J.G. Deardorff, Jr.); N.Y. Times, Aug. 30, 1921, at 14, col. 5:
id, Aug. 29, 1921, at 4, col. 5; id, Aug. 26, 1921, at 4, col. 2; id., Aug. 25, 1921, at 12, col. 5:
id., July 16, 1920, at 7, col. 2.
672. People v. Lamson, | Cal. 2d 648, 36 P.2d 361 (1934).
673. D. Lamson, We Wuo ARE ABOUT To Di: PRISON AS SEEN BY A CONDEMNED MAN at
ix (1935).
674. Lamson, 1 Cal. 2d at 662, 36 P.2d at 367.
675. See generally N.Y. Times, Apr. 4, 1936, at 4, col. 4; id., Mar. 25, 1936, at 46, col. 5:
id., May 15, 1935, at 44, col. 4.
676. Moskowitz, You Can't Apologize to the Dead, INsive Detective, Dec. 1962, at 46, 70.
677. E. Rapin, supra note 20, at 79-80.
678. Id. at 75.
‘ob him.”
d unnat-
strength.
- it. And
sual fact,
1 see how
w falling,
z warmer.
e Hunter.
they had
e.
intern,” I
», But it’s
was killed
some foot-
gto stay.
about the
1 the drive
the house.
ixed things
going on,
nt about a
rcle around
with a few
£ footprints
i him**See,
he’s running about as tight as he could go. Notice how
the prints of the toes are pressed way down into the
snow. And he’s not a tall man, to judge from the length
of his stride.”
“But you see there’s only one of them.”
“Ye4.: 3 answered, “and there’s something wrong
about that. It isn’t natural. Look here, he must have
come up to the house by the drive
because there are footprints
leading away, but none g0-
ing up to the house. Now if
he came by the road he knew
where he was going. But when
he runs away he heads down this
gully, way off into the country. It looks as
though he didn’t know where he was going.”
We had been following the line of tracks
as I spoke. “But that doesn’t make common
sense,” protested Dean.
The tracks were taking us out of town south-
ward, cutting around farm-buildings where they
approached them. It was heavy going, and I could
see where the man we were following had slowed
up, too. “I know it,’” I said, “so we have to find an
explanation that will make common sens¢. This is
what I think. When the robbers came to the house
they had someone with them who knew about
Washington Hunter and the money he kept in the
house, but when they got the money and killed the
old man, they split up. The leader of the gang went
down the road. This man we're following doesn’t
know the country. Look here, the railroad is only
five hundred yards away here, over behind those
trees, but he goes running right away from it.”
We followed the tracks through the night for four
or five miles, and every step we took showed that the
man we were after didn’t know where he was. It was
slow work, because he did a lot of twisting and once
he followed a road for a short distance, but he always
cut off across the fields again soon. Finally, however, he
did chance on the railroad track, near the junction at
Atco, where there is a watch-tower and a water tank
and pretty soon after that the tracks ended right by the
side of the railroad track.
I went up to see the watchman on duty in the tower
and told him who I was. It was beginning to get light
by that time.
“Did you see anyone around here during the night?”
I asked.
“Seems to me I did, about two o’clock or so,” he
said. “Kind of a tramp-like feller, didn’t have any
overcoat. Probably hopped one of the trains.”
“What trains go through here about that time?”
Well, .at two-fifteen there was an up night freight
for Camden; then there wasn’t anything till a train-
load of empties came down toward Atlantic City. at
three-seven.”
That settled that part of the question. Our man must
have hopped the Camden train. There wasn’t any place
for him to hang around Atco for an hour and besides
T he Case of the Left-Sided Man
aay i on cam
23
Detective Ellis Parker ig shown examining a gun in connec-
tion with a current crime. Cases such as the one American
Detective presents this month have placed Detective Parker's
name first on the list of American detectives.
his footprints stopped short, he couldn’t have waited
‘ Jong before catching the train. Why he must have been
getting on it about the time they were pulling me out
of bed! It was weeks before I got that close on the
trail again.
A man at Atco drove me back to the Hunter place
in his cutter. I went into the kitchen and looked around.
It had been tidied up some and most of the clues, if
there had been any, were gone by that time. In one
corner of the room I did find a chisel, an ordinary
carpenter’s chisel, all covered with blood. There was a
mark on the window-ledge, and when I tried the chisel
on it, it fitted. That was how the robbers must have
gained admission. I could reconstruct that part of it
easily; one getting in by the window, then unlocking
(Continued on page 60)
"clea
60
American Detective .
The Case of the Left-Sided Man
the door for the other one or two. Of
course, fingerprints had never been heard
of at that date, so the chisel wasn’t ex-
amined for them.
After the chisel I took another look
around and behind the stove I found a
hat. It was a new spring hat, not at
all the sort of thing Washington Hunter
would have worn, and much stepped on.
It certainly didn’t look natural in that
Quaker kitchen. I took it in to Mrs.
Hunter, who had been under the doc-
tor’s care, and was able to see me by this
time.
“Is this your husband’s hat?” I asked
her.
“No,” she said decisively, “I never
saw it before, and it would not fit Wash-
ington, I don’t think.”
I asked her about the sequence of
events.
“Washington must have heard the
man downstairs and gone down,” she
pad. “He didn’t wake me getting out
- of bed. The first thing I heard was the
sound of a struggle and the most fear-
ful cursing down there in the kitchen.
I put my wrap around me and went
down, but just as I got to the foot of
the stairs there was a crash and I ar-
rived just in time to see the man going
out the door. Washington was on his
face on the floor, all covered with blood.”
“You only saw one man. What did
he look like?”
“I couldn’t tell very well.. He was
rather stocky and heavy-built and I think
his hair was light brown. He had a mask
half across his face.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. I don’t think I ever saw him
before.”
“How was he dressed?”
“In just a suit. He didn’t have any
overcoat.”
I didn’t realize the importance of
that at the time. “That would be the
man we trailed through the snow,” I said.
“What kind of a suit was it?”
“I couldn’t see very well. The light
wasn’t good. Washington had gone down
with the night lantern and it was on
the floor and I carried a lamp, but the
light of it was right in my eyes, so I
couldn’t see clearly.”
That was not so good. It might have
been someone she knew, but between
the mask and the bad light she had not
recognized him, but it was all she could
tell me.
By this time it was day, so I went out
to have a little breakfast and while I was
eating it, read over the medical report
on Hunter, which the doctor had got-
ten ready. It listed the wounds and even
had a diagram showing where they were.
He had been frightfully beaten and
(Continued from page 23)
smashed, with twenty or thirty heavy
blows on the head and back with blunt
instruments. As near as the doctor
could make out, one of them had been
an iron bar and another a gun-butt. In
addition, the old man’s hands had been
almost severed by ferocious blows with
the blade of the chisel, and there were
two deep stab wounds from the same im-
plement on his right side. When I came
to that item I whistled.
‘What’s the matter?” asked Dean,
who was eating with me.
“The man who led that gang, not only
knew the neighborhood, but knew Hun-
ter intimately,” I said. ‘See, you can
reconstruct the crime from what we
have already. The old man comes in to
find them in his kitchen; he grabs the
man with the chisel in that terrible grip
of his, which could crush potatoes. The
other two—I think there were at least
three of them, because he was beaten
with two instruments—began pounding
him with the iron bar and gun-butt; the
man with the chisel hacked at Hunter’s
hands and finally gave him those stab
wounds,”
“Well, how does that make him know
Hunter?”
“You forget that the stab-wounds
are on Hunter’s right side. He is facing
the criminal. It ‘would be perfectly easy
and natural for the murderer to stab him
in the left side, but unless he were left-
handed, he would have to reach clear
across his body to stab the old man in
the right side,”
“Then he was left-handed.”
“But he wasn’t. Look at this dia-
gram. All the other chisel-blows are on
the arms and wrists. You can see from
the slant of them that they came from
the murderer’s right; he held the chisel
in his right hand; therefore he was right-
handed. There is only one reason why
the murderer should reach clear across to
strike Hunter in the right side, and that
is something that very few people know.
Washington Hunter was. a left-sided
man,”
“A left-sided man?”
“Yes, There have been several doc-
tors up here from the medical colleges
to examine him. All the. organs in his
body are transposed. His heart was on
the right side instead of the left, his liver
was on the left side instead of the right.
And the man who murdered Washing-
ton Hunter knew that and reached across
his body to where he could drive that
chisel for his heart—way over on the
wrong side of his body.”
“What good does it do us?”
“Every unnatural fact is a help. Now
I’ve known Washington Hunter for
‘ {yeioe es Natt te 1
i Ns 3s) Raa Sata a ST.
some time. He was proud of his strength,
but he was sensitive about being thought
a freak, and he kept the fact of his being
- a left-sided man more or less a secret. We
can divide the people that knew about it
up into three classes. The first are a few
intimate friends of his, and I think we
can elimjnate them from consideration
as murderers, because they’re all old men
and Quakers like Hunter himself, and I
can’t picture any of those Quaker farm-
ers leading a gang of desperadoes to rob
old Hunter. The second class is com-
posed of the medical men who have
looked at him, but they are few in num-
ber, and doubly unpromising as suspects
not only because they are physicians in
good standing, but because the circum-
stances of the crime show the robbers
were led by someone who knows that
Hunter keeps money in the house. The
third class corresponds in both particu-
lars; it is composed of the hired men
Hunter has had on the place at various
times, especially some hired man who
would have been here when one of the
dectors came.”
After breakfast we went back to the
Hunter place and from Mrs. Hunter I
got a list of all the hired men she could
remember. Dean went to work check-
ing the local hardware stores for the
purchase of the chisel, and I put an-
other man on the trail of the fellow
who had boarded the down freight at
Atco. The chisel clue petered out, as
I expected it would; none of the local
stores could remember having sold it. As
for the man on the freight train, a
brakeman had chased him off the cars in
Camden. He gave me a rough descrip-
tion of the man, no overcoat, stocky,
with a round face and blonde hair, that
might cover Mrs. Hunter’s description.
“How do you know he had blonde
hair?” I asked, when the brakeman was
brought in.
“Didn’t have no hat on, boss.” That
hat again! I began to feel that was the
clue that would lead us to the murderer.
The brakeman added that the blonde
man had been limping slightly when he
got off in Camden.
Mrs. Hunter’s list consisted mostly of
local men. I had them all rounded up
and invited them to explain where they
were on the night of the crime. In two
cases I didn’t get good explanations. One
of them was a young man named Sher-
man. He lived over at Palmyra, but
‘ wasn’t home when my man called, and
when I made inquiries, I found he was
in a hospital in Philadelphia with a gun-
shot wound in one leg. That looked
good. I went to Philly and the hospital
at once, but young Sherman said he got
the wound hunting, the day before the
a
J
crime, and not only said i
it, so he was eliminated.
The other man who d
straight story was named J
He had been involved in
before and I went to see hit
lived in a little shack ne
and when we came in, rece
out taking his hat off and ir
comfort. Where had he bee
“None of your business,” |
I noticed the hat he had
I stood looking at him as t
thinking up something to ;
whistling away as though
edly. But the tune I \
“Where Did You Get That
he recognized it he flushec
“All right, Keough,” I s
“where did you get that
you tell us about it.”
“I got it right in the Bc
in Mount Holly, if you wa
he said fiercely.
“And what became of th
had last: week?”
“I threw it out on the g:
It wasn’t good for anythi:
The man was lying, an
hurry so he was doing it b:
in Hunter’s kitchen had be:
I’ve found that if you ;
chance to build up a reall;
it’s hard to crack it after
fered him a little help in
self entangled.
“Let’s see,” I said. “The g
is over on the other side o:
of the mill. You went ov
threw the old hat away, ar
back through town and st
Bon-Ton to get the new
right?”
He snapped at the bait. ‘
That’s just the way I did.”
“Tt is, is it? That was th
blizzard. You walked thre
here to the garbage dump,
your old hat, then walked
Bon-Ton a mile and a hali
that storm to get a new one
Suppose you come along an
rest of it at the station.”
Even then he didn’t crac!
to tell where -he had been
the murder, but just as stou
all connection with it. Th:
the hat should have been
but it wasn’t. There wz
queer and unnatural abou
business and for ‘a while I
my finger on it. I went di
Keough try on the hat fr
kitchen. It wasn’t a very
that didn’t seem right eithe:
was practically new and I .
ture him getting.a new ha
fit-him. And when I came
on his possible companions
nobody knew of any parti.
of his. He was:a solitary «
is strength,
ag thought
f his being
secret. We
-w about it
c are a few
[ think we
nsideration
all old men
iself, and I
aker farm-
joes to rob
ss is com-
who have
-w in num-
as suspects
Lysicians in
he circum-
-he robbers
cnows that
nouse. The
th particu-
hired men
at various
man who
one of the
vack to the
. Hunter I
1 she could
ork check-
‘es for the
I put an-
the fellow
freight at
red out, as
f£ the local
: sold it. As
it train, a
the cars in
gh descrip-
vat, stocky,
e hair, that
description.
had blonde
ikeman was
voss.” That
hat was the
e murderer.
the blonde
ly when he
d mostly of
rounded up
where they
me. In two
ations. One
iamed Sher-
imyra, but
called, and
und he was
with a gun-
“hat looked
the hospital
said he got
’ before the
ee ee ee
>
bie ei
is ee a
crime, and not only said it but proved
it, so he was eliminated.
The othergiman who didn’t have a
straight story was named John Keough.
He had been involved in several affairs
before and I went to see him myself. He
lived in a little shack near Riverside,
and when we came in, received us with-
out taking his hat off and in obvious dis-
comfort. Where had he been that night?
“None of your business,” he answered.
I noticed the hat he had on was new.
I stood looking at him as though I were
thinking up something to.ask him next,
whistling away as though absent-mind-
edly. But the tune I whistled was
“Where Did You Get That Hat.” When
he recognized it he flushed.
“All right, Keough,” I said suddenly,
“where did you get that hat? Suppose
you tell us about it.”
~ “TI got it right in the Bon-Ton Store
in Mount Holly, if you want to know,”
he said fiercely.
“And what became of the old one you ©
had last: week?” .
“I threw it out on the garbage dump.
It wasn’t good for anything, anyway.”
The man was lying, and lying in a
hurry so he was doing it badly. The hat.
in Hunter’s kitchen had been new. Now
I’ve found that if you give-a liar a
chance to build up a-really good story,
it’s hard to crack it afterward. I of-
fered him a little help in getting him-
self entangled. pais
“Let’s see,” I said. “The garbage dump
is over on the other side of town, back
of the mill. You went over there and
threw the old hat away, and then came
back through town and stopped at the
Bon-Ton to get the new one. Is that
right?”
He snapped at the bait. “That’s right.
That’s just the way I did.” ;
“It is, is it? That was the day of the
blizzard. You walked three miles from
here to the garbage dump, threw away
your old hat, then walked back to the
Bon-Ton a mile and a half through all
that storm to get a new one, bareheaded.
Suppose you come along and tell me the
rest of it at the station.”
Even then he didn’t crack. He refused
to tell where he had been the night of
the murder, but just as stoutly he denied
all connection with it. That business of
the hat should have been the clincher,
but it wasn’t. There was something
queer and unnatural about the whole
business and fora while I couldn’t put
my finger on it. I went down and had
Keough try onthe hat. from Hunter’s
kitchen. It wasn’t a very good fit, and
that didn’t seem right either, for the hat
was practically new and I couldn’t pic-
ture him getting a new hat that didn’t
fit him. And when I came to check. up
on his possible companions ] found ‘that
nobody knew of any particular cronies
of his. He was.a solitary character.
American Detective
Then I remembered that Keough had
limped a little while I was taking him to
jail. That fitted with the fact that the
Atco robber had limped when he got off
the train at Camden—and then I remem-
bered. The wrong man was limping!
The Atco robber, the limping one, had
been the one unfamiliar with this part
of the country, whereas if Keough were
one of the murderers he was certainly
one of those who had run away down
the road. I had been assuming that the
limping robber had somehow been hurt
in the struggle with Hunter; now I sent
a doctor down to find out why Keough
was going lame. en
The doctor came back with a funny
expression on his face and the news that
Keough had kicked like a balky mule at
being examined, and: when he did get to
him, he found some bird-shot in one leg.
Well, when I heard that I just sat back
and laughed. You know this part of the
country? Bird-shot is what farmers use
when they catch somebody robbing the
hen-roosts or the melon patch. I sat back
and laughed and then I sent Dean out to
canvas the farmers. of the neighborhood.
Sure enough he hadn’t been at it for half
a day before he found a farmer who had
heard a noise in the chicken-coop the
night of the blizzard, and going to the
window had let drive with his shot-gun
at a dark form in the yard. |
“I got the feller’s hat here, too,” said
the farmer and handed it over. I took
it. down and it fitted Keough as though
it were made for him. Investigating one
crime I had stumbled onto the trail of
another one, and Keough had gotten
himself involved in a murder case by be-
ing afraid to admit he was stealing half
a dozen chickens that same night. The
coincidence of two robbers both losing
their hats on the same night had done
the rest.
That was all right for Keough, but.
it didn’t go very far to solve the murder
of Washington Hunter. I had finished
up the list of local men who had worked
‘for him, and they were all eliminated.
But if they were out, then the leader
of the gang must have come from out
of town; it must be someone who had
formerly worked for Hunter and who
had,been there when one of the doctors
found the old man’s heart wasn’t in the
right place. I went back over the case,
looking for some unnatural detail that
would give me a starting point, and then
for the first time I realized that the most
unnatural detail of all had been right
under my nose all the time—that bliz-
zard.
The robber Mrs. Hunter saw hadn’t
worn any overcoat. Neither had the
Atco robber, though they might be the
same man. And the lost hat had been a
spring felt, the last thing in the world
a man would wear in a blizzard. In other
words, the robbers, had come dressed for
61
a bright spring day. Now in New York
that day had been a bright spring day,
but in southern New Jersey and Phila-
delphia a snowstorm; therefore the rob-
bers had probably come from New York.
You might say that they were too
hard up to have overcoats, but that
wouldn’t go. At least one of them wasn’t
too hard up to have an expensive spring
hat, and since they weren’t local men
they were not too hard up to have come
here on the train. :
That opened up a whole new line of
inquiries. I hurried over to the station
at Riverside and asked the station-mas-
ter there if he remembered anything
‘about who had got off the New York
trains on the night of the murder.
“Which train?” he asked and gave me
a time-table that showed only three
‘trains stopping at Riverside from New
York during the afternoon and evening.
The four-twelve was too early, and if
the murderers had come on the train that
went through about nine, they would
have had to wait around for three hours
in that storm without any overcoats on.
But there was another one that. went
through about 11:40 which was just
‘ about right.
I pointed it out to him. “‘No,” he said,
“J don’t remember anybody in particu-
lar on that train. I wish I could help
you, but _
“It would help a lot,” I told him, “if
I could confirm the fact that the men
came on that train and find out how
many of them there were. Is there any
way of tracing that?”
“Why don’t you go to the auditor’s
office in Philly?” he suggested. “The
tickets go in there after they’re taken
up, and there won’t be so many for
Riverside on that train.”
I went on to Philly. Mr. Gillingham,
the auditor of the road, was one of the
keenest men I ever met. He was ex-
cited when I told him what I was there
for, and sent for the bundles of tickets
for the road for that day.
“We only keep them for a month till
we make our check,” he told me, “It’s
lucky you come in when you did. They'd
be gone in a few days more.”
The tickets were packaged in little
bundles, according to the trains on~
which they had been collected. We
opened up the bundle for the 11:40, and
when we got through the pack, there
were seven tickets for Riverside. Two
of them were from Bordentown, which
counted them out. The other five were
all from Jersey City. I didn’t think
there were five men in the gang, but
when I came to look at the tickets I
found that while one of them was a
printed ticket the other four were all
paper slips in which only the words
‘Jersey City” were printed, the “River-
side” being written in.
62
“What's the difference between these
two kinds of tickets?” I asked.
“Oh, those with the word written in
are what we call ‘foreign’ tickets,” he
said. “That is, they were issued at some
point where we haven’t any station.
Probably New York in this case. You
see our tickets are sold in the ferry
terminals in New York City, but they
are only good from Jersey City down,
where we have our station.”
“Then four of those tickets on that
one train are from New York. Will
anyone be able to tell me anything about
the men who used them?”
“Let’s see,” he said, taking the tickets
and laying them together. “Ah, they were
all punched at the same time. You see,”
he held them up to show how the punch-
marks corresponded, and then pulled
down a big register from over his desk:
“That was a train with a split run.
Thomas Dennison was the conductor
down from Jersey City to Trenton, and
those are his punch-marks. He’s one of
the best men on the line. He’ll be able
to tell you about the group of four that
turned in those tickets if anybody will.
From Trenton down Owen was the con-
ductor; Owen’s a good man, not as good
as Dennison, but he might be able to
remember. I’ll have both of them in here
for you about five tonight, and if you’re
on hand, they may have something for
you.”
I was on hand. Dennison was a tall,
slow-moving chap, every bit as smart as
Gillingham had said he was. When I
asked him if he remembered who had
turned in the four tickets, he considered,
frowning:
“Probably you'll remember it by the
fact that it was the night we had the
blizzard down at this end of the state,
while they had fine weather in Jersey
City,” I told him.
“Oh, that night. By George, yes, I
should say I do remember!” He turned
the tickets over in his hand. “There were
four of them, all young men, and I
stopped to say something to them be-
cause the train was nearly empty and
there wasn’t much doing. I noticed that
all four of them were dressed in brand-
new Easter suits without overcoats, just
like a bunch of dudes. They didn’t seem
anxious for my company, and none of
them said much to me, but I’ll swear
they all four spoke with a German ac-
cent, and when they talked among them-
selves it was in German.”
“German, eh! Can you describe any
of them?”
“Well, I can try. There was one fel-
low in a kind of brownish suit. He was
blonde and had a fat face. Maybe he
would be five feet six, very heavy and
stocky built, with blue eyes and a small
nose. I noticed him because he seemed to
be half-drunk, and they kept giving him
another pull from a bottle of whisky
one of them had.”
American Detective
“Yes, go on.” The description fitted in
perfectly with the meager details I had
on the robber who had escaped cross
country to Atco. Dennison closed his
eyes in the effort to remember and went
on:
“Then there was a taller one that
didn’t say much. I got the idea he was
_ the boss of them. I recollect he had
something heavy in his side pocket, and a
tie-pin like a horseshoe. He was sort of
sandy-haired, with a trick of twitching
one eye, like this. He was the one that
handed me the tickets. Heavy eyebrows’
and dressed in, black. The other two I
didn’t notice specially, because I didn’t
have any reason to, but one of them had
a funny-looking mole with a couple of
hairs growing out of it on the side of
his neck.”
I felt I was getting somewhere at last.
This Dennison was a jewel. “Now admit-
ting that these fellows committed a mur-
der in Riverside about halfpast twelve,
what train would they be likely to take
back to New York?”
Gillingham answered. “There isn’t any
train they could take before morning un-
less they hopped a freight. The only pas-
senger train is the Washington express.”
I thought that over for a minute. It
was just possible that they had hopped a
freight, but I didn’t think so, In those
days nobody but hoboes rode the rods and
these young men were natty dressers.
They, wouldn’t care much for freight
trains, especially with the three thou-
sand dollars they had taken from old
Hunter in their pockets. No it would be
more natural for them to take a passen-
ger train.
“What's the first passenger train they
could catch?” I asked.
“The milk train, leaves here at 5:35,”
said Gillingham. “That would bring it
to Riverside about 6:05. Why, that’s
Tom Owen’s train. He’s the man who
had 492 from Trenton that night of the
split run. He’ll be here any minute now.”
“I don’t want the time at Riverside,”
I told them. “I don’t think our men
would be foolish enough to get on there
after committing a murder in the town
five or six hours before. No, they’d walk
to some other town for their getaway.
Now, let’s see about how far they could
walk in that amount of time. We have
to remember they would be going slow
«on account of the snow.”
We got out a map and figured it out.
There were about six stations they could
have reached—Beverly, Perkins and De-
lanco on the north of Riverside, and
Cambridge, Riverton and Palmyra south
of it. All of them were small, and I
figured I could get some information
from the ticket-sellers, but I was spared
the trouble.
While we were talking Owen came in.
As Gillingham had said he had a good
memory, not as good as Dennison’s, but
when Dennison described the four River-
side passengers, he remembered them at
once. “Sure,” he said, “You punched
their tickets and I collected them. One
of the four was drunk.”
“Did you see any of them the next
morning on the milk train?”
“I could tell better if I looked over the
tickets. I kind of connect people with
tickets.”
Gillingham got down the tickets for
the morning run of the milk train and
Owen fumbled them over. I was pretty
certain now, but I wanted confirmation
of ¢hy idea that they had gone back to
New York. Suddenly he stopped.
“This is it,” he declared. “See these
tickets. These are the kind of tickets we
make out when a passenger pays his fare
on the train, They got on at Perkins with-
out any tickets and paid their fare. But
there’s only three tickets here—oh, now
I remember! One of them, the drunk in
the brown suit, wasn’t with them when
they came back.”
Well, that was the answer. But all I
had was descriptions of three of the mur-
derers and the knowledge that one of
them worked for Hunter, and I knew
they lived in New York. I didn’t know
who they were, but I knew they were all
Germans and that Hunter’s former em-
ployee spoke with a German accent. You
see how these things work out. Every
bit of information you get enables you
to eliminate someone else till you have
just one person who is the only one left
and he must be the guilty party.
I went back to Mrs. Hunter with what
I had learned.
“Which of your hired men spoke with
a German accent?” I asked her.
“There were two or three of them,”
she told me after thinking it over. “There
was Alfred Hartmann, he got married
and went to Secaucus to live. And there
was Otto Kohlhauser and James Young.
I don’t know what became of them.”
‘I wired Secaucus to have them check
up on Hartmann, but I didn’t think they
would find anything wrong. A married
man with a family may commit a crime,
but it will be a crime of sudden violence,
not a planned robbery with a gang. My-
self I went on to New York and called
on Captain Titus of the Central Office
force to ask him whether he had any in-
formation on James Young and Otto
Kohlhauser.
I don’t suppose you remember Titus,
but he was a wonderful character, a sort
of living Rogue’s Gallery, with the
name and picture of every crook in New
York filed away in his mind. Kohlhauser
-he didn’t know, but Young was on his
books as ‘‘Jimmy the Slugger” and had
a record. Titus got a picture of him out;
it corresponded almost exactly with Con-
ductor Dennison’s description of the.
tall, sandy-haired man with the heavy
eyebrows.
Titus sent out his men to run Young
in, which wasn’t difficult, as he had been
a
making rather free with
week. At the same time
two pals of his, Otto Ke!
Braun, and when I sav
Tombs I was sure I had t!
for Braun had a mole on
neck, and Keller was a b
lad with a little nose anc
I didn’t have the fourth r
would come in time. The
* Dennison and Owen over
Both of them positively
three as the passengers fi:
the night of the murder..-]
dition papers and took
Jersey. —
Right there I-ran into a
them would talk. You se:
I was in; I could prove
Riverside, but not that th
to do with the crime.
couldn’t be positive about
tion of any of them, and
* give me a chance to check
Just kept mum.
“What are you going
them?” asked Dean after
“Make them talk by
the unnatural detail, Do
how they got away fror
house?”
“They just ran as fast
Young, Braun and the fou
the road, and Keller acro
Dean answered.
“That was the unnatur:
did Keller go across countr
to escape from the scene
but so did they. The only ;
is that he also wanted to g
the other three.”
“But he joined them |
York.”
“True. Therefore, what
Th
sender of this wire is an e
accustomed to writing. T
‘sent from 104th Street and
able to deduct that the ki
somewhere in that neighbor
Twenty-five detectives, e
could be spared from the
were sent post haste to th
hood to ferret out the little «
the mild manners, that hac
of the Budd home on that
the ten year old girl.
While all this was happen
Headquarters on Centre St
tive Dribben, at the Twer
Police Station was making a
covery in the home of the B
It was a pan, a cheap type i
Howard had brought some |
the Budds on this Sunday
much to work on, a common
i Heavey..
Tomes Murtagh, ¢
Bt news fi stay.
ched the condemned celle arrt
through the Evening 2:
read the. news firet an
@ naturel deat!
q
The
be
ne
ae
a3!
iy
at
‘Twat’ hea
Dr,
Were still beating. niet
Tile tw strangiing to death.” sald
inmate acount menial
Sag
<
~
PATROLM
acpi ean. pentane fie
~ perceptible artion. of the heart.
— At 10:21) Brown was pronounced
~~ “Gead. ‘The body was allowed to hang
- > watt 16:42. “when it was - siowly
h ne tbe
THE SCENE AT THE GALLOWS.
» Phe gallows scene from the time that
Brown enierce the death chamber
Waa one never to be forgotten Hrown
was the coolest man in the (rowd He
» seanned the faces -f those preeent and
“eeered looking for some ont Ar he
took hie place Leneath the dangting
rope he bent his eyes toward Father
MoGiniey and Father Fore expeetant-
ly. In. clear ‘tones Path
oald: ‘
"Gentiemen Mr. Hrown hes arked
foe to thank the Sheriff and bis citt-
- CASTORIA
5°" Yer Infante and Chilaren
Tea Kind You Have Always Bought
4
lox
Eee lbw
\
AS CHAKLES OKRBHA
Bd hed hah
+B, We will add eey now Rega
mente ia the sear furare, Wateb foren.
aaneeomenta,
mtr.
BEEHIVE
coors, Mhewilee Mr. of Hoboken
who have been so Bind to him. Me alec
wishes that he will be the lest to euf-
fer capltt! punishment, and that the
oitigens of the State of New Jeraey
wif pee tant thie te the last one,”
Bheriff Ruempler aeked Brown if
he hed anything further to may, and
the doomed man uttered his last words
this side of the grave.
en ge ae tet
-
er et eh NR he = ep nl ag
SD yh eect al pom re
r i a,”
oo
RDT
SS i * ~ Hk
eas ee
“Nothing.” he sald, without any ap-
parent emotion. “Father Mc(Hnley has
‘€xpresaed my wishes.”
fiangman Van Hise adjusted the rope.
“Fixit right.” eald the SherLY, re-
méembering the slow- death of mur-
derer Reld a year ago. Fither Van
Hise was nervous or he made a mir-
take, for when the cord that released
the weight was pulled and the body
shet> up and down again, the novee
had siipped in front of the right ear,
and instead of almost inrtant and
painiese. death from a. broken neck,
Brown: slowly strangled. ty
GOUD-BYE TO CLIFFORD,
Brown bade Clifford good-bye this
morning for the last time, again con-
gratulLiing him upon his good for-
tune to eacape the gallows.
“Thope you Will live It out, and die
Sonia wan" vlabelgy-emeren sot
Onfte was at his
coo fortune, bat-bie joy-was tioged
with rorrow at having to part with
Brown, who wes bie closest confidant,
Hrown ate @ hearty breakfast. Me
was the most cheerful person in the
costden ned , with the ex-
ception of j/Cliifford, At’ B&B o'elock
The black cap Was drawn down and iy
4+ of any intent of king. When I frat
—— my
———F pp ren
fix
the tast time.
¢ 10 o’ciovk Sheriff Ruempler reed
the death warrant) The reading oc-
cupled some time, after which Brown
bade hie death watch good-bye.
At @ signal from Sheriff hes acnbl
Hengwan Van Hie approached
fstance of hie two. sone
Latten of tite doomed
about hie nek an
cap upon his head
{o the death chamber then
atarted.
At 10:08 o'clock the door at the end
oft ward 6. the execution ward, swung
open and Brown etrtered the d-ath
chamber, His eyee met the grim scaf-
fold that waa erected by Hanaman
Van Hine and his jet
There was a prroept
Brown's Adam's apple, which jumped
nervously, but murtering his courege
J on with hte eyes Axed upon
crucifix that was held” by Rev
ret r Foye welked
preva wishea that ft he given to the
er of the Evening, Journal, and
that he give ic to the oth*r newspaper
men for publication; ~~ .
BROWN'S OWN STATEMENT
: Sst, Feb. 6. 1900
The theory that banging a» capital
punishment has a, deterrent. effect
upon murdera was long ako exploded.
Hanging goes on and homictie con-
tinues.. We rail againet the tynch law
which citisens-of certain a ete of
axe zene
ia no Valid excuse to slowly alrangie «
perm io death. “H:- knows it is. a.
simple case of Jong premeditation,
degal .- murder, A’ prosecutor who
thinka it his duty to suppreee evidence,
to Use that which he knows to be per-
jured +vidence against an accused prr-
eon, 10 ure_all means: methods to take
a person's iife is undoubtedly the coool.
QaWful) murder.
The above is true in my case.’ The
Prosecutor knows that | am innocent
of any intent of kiltmg and 1 feel in
the sight of CGiod that my conscience
in clear Can Jamis SE: win, at the
hour of hia death. say ihe -ame” Has
he not by withholding evilence that
would clear me of the charge of Fnur-
der, knowing the comsequcncg to me
allowed mny' death. ts he not a mur-
derer? :
1 hope that) 1 am the jast- person
hung tn this Giod-forsaken county. In
ne Vourse Of TWenly pears or so per.
hape the more enlightenc’ ciligens will
be politically power encugh tv get a
law to do away “tth hanging. which
te no more of ies than-a orutal exhi.
bition, and only’ a pieasure to the mor-
bid.
A frightful exampie woud be afford-
ed if the murderer wae condemned to
I'fe. Imprisonment. There te nv need
for capital punisiment, no excuse for
it) Legan murder has’a cclasing tIn-
fluence on all, especiaily the ohiidren.
I would rather death to-morrow, chan
life imprisonment
As 1 only have a few hours to live
I declare before Gol j-am nol guilty
heard of Gebhardl’s death, 1 felt sorry
and sald ge to the captain, although
1 knew I wag not to diame. 1 felt
sorry thet J was compelied=to show
him in eself-Sefetne. ; ~
(Signed). James K. Brown.
The juries wer sworn in at 10
o'dtock. ./ Deputy Raunty Conk anore
fe the Court's jury int rand Jury
WHEREAS, The Ma
men of Jereey City on
day of Vebruary.
a comract with Patrick
a supply of pure and
which. contract contains EF
the acquiring, by the cit
reservoirs, pipe lines,
water rights and all
-thereef meressary 16 . pF
with a supply of water ti
fifty “million gallons dala
supply, water rights, |
stiea, rights of way
arceasary. 10 supply t
seventy million. gations
forever, for the sum
and five hundred
thousand dollars (37.5%.
Whereas, By. the prov
entiled “An act to su
vote the purehase of a
and wholeseeme waiter
first clase’ in this Sta
Aprti 1)-129%) {t ts req
question of purchase q
option shal! be submitt
cf Jereey City: therefore,
1, Eiward Hoos, Me
Citys prociatm that. the
purchase of said wo
pipe lines, lands, wate
rights and appurtena
the terms of said optics,
en million and
contract with the Mafo®
of. Jersey City}. ta sub
yoters of Jersey City,
adoption or rejectiog
purchase under said op
tion whioh is hereby sp
be beid im Jersey City
TUES
lath Day af Feb
At sech election each
of sich purchase shall
containing :he worde
“CITY OF JER
Purchase of ©
Supply Ac
written of printed
voters vpposeed to such
each deposit a ballot
“CITY OF JEF
Purchase of a
(Camunsed on Second Parad —
o*
rights of
he harde in Hoboke yl ant of any.
} The Perera
2 i that the Mtat
~ 4 ite own je
ha
J
” ae
G 9
eat
: :
ODN OL
a ty : + q
° ¢ i a e
a
ae 6 3 t
4 ay ‘
*. »
sk e
4 4 U ‘+ % +
i ’ ’ a (ae ‘
sf > + oie
t + = De seetnes £ereerteru sae £5958: 35 oer fe lee ee wn A ee D NR
4,1 ’ a t
a J 4
+ Lx! 7
A ° ?
OMe o $ e
4 iu 6 ca ;
Pt .
: y
va m4
2 4
e 0 & 4
D * ; ra : 5
oe : a ‘
. rf esi
cl at
re : '
* 9
wae | é 4
5 ‘ 3 *
a
> z
: ¢ *
cs -
be “ + ‘
i LJ ef é de .
t . ‘ Lot a
% z 4 ; f
4 : *
tw .
r 4
S ins one
my 3 »
a hd x ,
° bd ‘ori z ladle i Py ae
+ bd o- ‘ é 4
Cos: . be 630
ie ¢ rf :
; ying | Wil during felt
Lak Bi > ‘3
; ‘ pr the:
4 * ¥ 4
ie: © = Phe
2 i 2
” %
4
4
« s 4
$
i ’ 4
é oe: 4 ye Ve ’
44
B! :
fin oat ot i 8 ce Pd
cere am te Se
BE RCOATS AT HALE OFF.
3 vercoats, now
4NESS SUITS AT HALE
Que nes Suits, now
“pines Sai, now
dianem Sat, now
“runes Seit. now
A esinem Suits. now
. gomnews Suita, now
P Susinem Suis now. .
ojusness Sait, now ,
5 uits will be offered
617.60
16.00
18.00
14.00
12.60
1-00
10.00
9.00
7.60
- - 6,00
: 5.00
OFF.
- * $12.60
“> # 1.00
. 10,00
9.00
- 7,80
* 6.00
- + §.00
. 3.76
at ONE-THIRD OFF marked
; BOYS' AND CHILDREN'S FANCY WINTER
; *D WINTER OVERCOATS at HALF OFF the
ppye been selling them at during past season. —-
Pye. also placed on our counters a small lot of Medium
excellent for spring wear, at HALF OFF last. sea-
1NS TO-NORROW
MORNING AT ALL FOUR STORES.
1211 Sixth Avenue, near 14th St.
4125th St. corner 34 Avenue, New York.
Vorce DISMISSED
‘Filed His Bill Too
¥ill Sae Again.
oree brought by Joseph
Hoboken. againet his
Rh was partiaily tried
Vice-Chancellor Mev-
iemiseed and the eosis
to Weisel Hae will have
wryer, to start another
Une ground of deser-
EOE
me
Rea seme
RS A CNR RD a ik
Weisel, raised the ob
@ afverncon that Weiset’s
t filed with the Clerk
a ! Gaye before twe years
the alleged desertion
je a
Cemetery this afternoon.
Prosecutor Erwin said late this af-
ternoca that Brown had no reason to
object to the manner in which. the
case was tried. :
“The State produced everything in
hie favor as well as against. him
What the State falied to bring out
I did my full duty.
was put in. even to Brown's record.
His remarks about capital puntehment
I consider an effort on hie pert to do
something in behalf of Clifford.”
BROWN’S LABT EVENING, —
Rrown spent his last evening on
‘earth with his spiritual advisor,
Vether McGinley ths regen x ine
Church, who pra ww
gave him spiritual eonsolation.
Brown's wife bade bim farewell yee-
terday. The parting scene wat pa-
thetic and moved the death watch to
tears.
Brown gave up all hope when the
United Btates Supreme
twitonal. Until then he bad hope of a
Court decided
that the struck jury laW was consti.
fices in order to effect a prompt clearance —-Some of the
Great Darpains we have made for To-morrow’s selling:
BOYS’ AND YOUNG MEN'S
SUITS AND OVERCOATS,
in Rieck. Hine and. Hrown? Benrers
Arel Cheving Miaturee (¢0ta B) year
aines; wreth 10.00) and 1906
Your Chojes While (0 ( ) )
They Last for
SUITS AND OVERCOATS :
ANOTHER LOT OF
for Reys and Younw Mer tna larae |
vatlety of patterna 1410 10 year «inex,
and worth up to 18-00,
agp
( od)
Your Cholee While
They Last for
Fqually Attractive Values in
SMALL BOYS’ REEFERS,
in All Wool Chinchilia and Friese
with atorm ov velyet cellars 3 ty 1A
year sises: wetrth 7//) and #10,
fey Baar 3.98
A faw enitsin the 8 to Wh yesr «ines
at the same price
BOYS’ THREE-PIECE
VEST SUITS,
winde of. ateietig Ali Wool Casei-
meres Ain i& goar atzen and worth
hote * OO each.
Your Choice While la
They Last for 4d ()
Men's Suita and Overccoats
Hate and House Coata, Chiidren's Hats, Laps and Walsts.
ORDERS BY MAIL WILL RFC
~~
FIVE PROMPT ATTESTION
SS fy fe All Cach Parchaers (ereopt Bicycles nnd Kewinzg Machines) Deliv
ered Free te Any Ralilread Btation Within 100 Miles of New York.
re
————
cupled a condemned cell, and waar to
the full poreeusion of his faculties at
all times He was well apoken, -in-
teiligent and ike all criminals who
have rerved jong terma in prison, waa
an expert checker player, and mort of
hia time in jail. was epent playing the
came.
“Do you not feel greater eatisfac-
tion, he said to one of the keepers
who was no -mat for him atthe
game. “in slowy ¢@riving your oppo-;
nent into a corner and finally block- |
ing hia last man wherfe there is no es-
cape, than’ you 46 when you m&ke ‘a:
capture all his men?” -
: w which gtvee the more =
id the. keeper, who.
perienced either situation |
ith Brown,
fi. the true checker player pre-
fers the former method of beating a
man. The satisfaction laste longer.
and 1 think the. law would find more
satisfaction in prolonging the punish.
ment than it would in making it quick.
by removng the victim from this
troublesome world.”
Brown never divuiged his right name
to any of his intimates tn the jalj.
Hie wife gave the name of Mrs. %
eott when she first calied,. but: after
that visit’ was always called Mrs.
Brown, Brown leaves an aged and
infirm old mother, who hae been too
feeble to viait her aon since hie arrest.
Ss ‘
TRE CRIME AND THE TRIAL
How Gebhardt Met His Death—The |
Points Raised in Defense.
Beyond the fact that James K.'
Brown wae a thief with a police record
before he shot and killed Police Officer
Chartes Gebhardt in Hoboken, July 26.
1808, but itle is known of Brown's
life, He wae married and has @ wife
and somewhere in Brooktyn. aad
> premeditation,
SIXTH AVENUE, 20th to 21st ST.. N.Y,
quent legal pri redings in Browns -
cane havea pecullaninterest for law:
yerer Hrown “wae defended by Uon-
aTr-eeman WW Jt Jiaivo who-or?
trial of the case made a te-hrical
fight, with the ceault that aoprtcetent
‘dectaion wea established! — affitming
the constiutlinaliry of “the o «truck
jury law...
Brown was tried belore Juatics LAp-
pincott, Judge Hiair ands jury, “The
trial, hegah Oct. 3; ISGM, and jaated
two days. The defense was seil-de-
fense, and counsel argued ingrniousty
that the prosecution fatied /to show
Oct. 4 the! fury ore:
turned @ verdict of cuilty of murder -
in the firat degree, and Oct 14 Brown
was brought into. court) and sentenced.
to be hang+d Dec. §. ISDA.
STRUCK JURY LAW UPHELD,
Congressman Daly*took out a writ of
error on the ‘ground that the State
by electing to try Brown by a struck
jary. deprived him. of his. right of
challenge allowed. by the constitution.
The judgment of the trial court was
affirmed March 4 1800. and Brows
in. sentenced to be hanged
_ ELEVEN HANGINGS: HERE.
gti but Three of the Murderers Had
‘Killed Women. =
Browse @as the cleventh murierer
| that wae executed Ip the County Jad
eines Hudeoa County was formed va
ig
Jobn A. ft
majority,
“Resolves,
this meetBe
of the eit
purrhase Be
complet intima
test -has
The me
Robert Dae
cnmeing (he
new watet
lem fhat
at the s
Thesiay Ee
A boat 2a
City Hair Be
gathering
Agsnem hbiy
Cima@vega rte
‘sumtay FBS
proved-ty “
“fault with
Jagepn A
Cot Char
man A
missioner
(omrminat
man-at-t
Ke. Banks,
and Wate
gan. Hug
KAuration
Bmith Ca
Laughlin, Bes
Mortimer
4
Re Laird
‘7 Mara,
Harold BB
i
iE
el
TEEgR ES
unt
|
etal
fie
because of a son unworthy of her. But
duty was. duty. They mounted thg- stairs
softly to the attic. They tried the door
just as silently. It was locked.. Shackle- -
ton and Schroeder eyed one another. The
same thought passed through the mind of ©
each.
To break down the door would be
foolhardy. ‘Without a doubt Kurt Barth
was armed, would shoot’ to kill if he
found himself cornered. _Orders were to
bring Barth in for questioning.
Both men drew their guns. Shackle-
ton stepped close to the door and called
out softly: :
‘ “Oh, Kurt—open the door. There’s
something I want to tell you. Make it fast,
kid!”
The ruse worked. A _ tousled, sleepy-
eyed young man appeared in the door-
way—and gazed for a moment uncompre-
hendingly into the barrels of two police
revolvers. Then realization came. . Barth
cowered back into the attic room, his
captors following. He sank down on the
bed, covering his face with his hands. And
now it was the officers’ turn to stare. On
the floor next to the bed lay two re-
volvers |
“Holy smoke!” ejaculated Shackleton.
“An arsenal!” His eyes hardened. “Get
dressed!” he snapped.
Shackleton stooped, placed his handker-
chief over the weapons and dumped _ the
load into his coat’ pocket. While
Schroeder supervised every move of
Barth’s. dressing, Shackleton searched
about the room. In a drawer he found
an efficient pair of brass knuckles, a wallet
crammed with banknotes, and a heap of
newspaper clippings dealing with stick-
ups—Barth’s evidently—throughout North-
ern New Jersey. ;
- Shackleton’s face was grim as he made
a little package of his collection. He
prodded young Barth. “Get a move on,”
he clipped. j
But the young desperado, facing the
electric chair, had not yet shot his last
bolt. As he was donning his coat, his
slender body suddenly launched out much
as a football player about to make a
tackle. Schroeder’s left arm clutched
at Barth’s coat. “A section of it came
away in his hand. In one flying leap the
killer vaulted the railing leading to the
stairs and was gone.
But he reckoned without Detective
Marchione. As Barth came tumbling out
of the house, he ran full tilt into the arms
of the waiting officer. Like an eel, he
ducked and sprinted down the street.
Marchione, however, was no mean
sprinter himself. He fired a single shot in
the air, and then settled down to the task
of running in earnest. Rapidly he over-
hauled the pink-complexioned murderer.
Barth, glancing wildly over his shoulder,
darted abruptly into an alley. That was
his mistake—the alley was blind.
Cornered, Barth raised his hands and
cringed against the imprisoning wall.
_ “You win,” he said, his breath coming
in gasps. “And I lose!”
ARTH was rushed to Clifton police
headquarters. The Plymouth sedan
was ordered brought in. I arrived in
time to inspect it. Sure enough,- there
under the front seat were the license plates
this young marauder had cached away
to keep the police from drawing too close
on his trail. There. must have been half
a dozen of them. He was clever, but he
made a mistake when he used P5930, more
than once.
What we wanted now from Barth was a
confession of the Friedman murder. Cap-
tain Joseph Linarducci, Jr., chief of the
Essex County prosecutor’s office, joined
in questioning him.
We showed Barth the strip of paper
-hat was a perfect fit. :
Captain Linarducci extended the wad-
ding. “This yours ?”he demanded suddenly.
Barth, still dapper, nodded, “It’s
mine, Lost it during a stickup some-
place, but I have no idea where.” ~
We had him! Those two short sen-
tences sealed his doom. He might as well
have shouted “I killed Julius Fried-
_ man,” for the paper wadding. was lost’ the.
night of the Bloomfield stickup. and
murder !
But Barth, aware the game was up,
poured’ out a confession. He admitted
killing Julius Friedman. The latter had
resisted him, and it was shoot or. -be
caught. He had shot. But~.we didn’t
actually need Barth’s confession. . One
of the two revolvers found in his room
proved to be the weapon which had dealt
out Friedman’s murder. The barrel. mark-
ings matched those on the bullet extracted
from the murdered man, matched also the
slug removed from .grocer Ruben’s wall.
i science of ballistics named Barth a
killer. ’
O*% Monday, June 4, 1934, Kurt Barth
went on trial for the slaying of Julius
Friedman, ‘before Common Pleas Court
Judge Daniel J. Brennan in Essex County
Courthouse. in the courtroom, bowed in
grief and horror, sat the young killer’s
kindly German parents. Alongside .them,
her face a. pale lovely mask, sat his
eighteeen-year-old sister, Erma. ye
During the trial it was revealed that
Kurt had been brought from Germany
by his parents eight. Pim before, when
Erma was ten years old.
The trial was a sensational one. Seats
in the venerable old courtroom were at a
premium. And on the afternoon of Thurs-
day, June 7, the fourth day of the trial, the
jury retired to consider Barth’s fate. _An
hour and a half later they filed out to ask
Judge Brennan a question.
“Does life imprisonment really mean
life imprisonment, ‘or can the prisoner be
paroled?” “ ‘
Judge Brennan considered. He said,
“The court of pardons may parole a man
sentenced to life imprisonment ‘if it so
desires.” ¢ :
The jury retired again. An hour later
it brought in a verdict of “guilty of mur-
der in the first degree.”
The electric chair was mandatory.
David Friedman, also a spectator in
court, smiled grimly when sentence was.
passed. He said, very softly, “He de-
serves the chair! I'll go down there and
see him burn if it’s the last thing I dol”
At the state prison in Trenton, Kurt
Barth was marched to a death house cell
adjoining that of Bruno Richard Haupt-
mann. While Kurt’s pretty girl friend,
Dorothy Wallis, of Kearney, staged a
desperate battle to save him from the little
green door at the end of the last mile,
Barth and Bruno talked. They talked in-
cessantly, always in German. What they
discussed, no one ever knew. It was only
known that the convicted Lindbergh baby
killer and the doomed boy from Clifton
had struck up a strange and touching
friendship.
In the meantime, Dorothy, a bewil-
dered, frightened girl, found her pleas
powerless to aid her sweetheart. On Fri-
day, March 22, 1934, Kurt Barth was
taken for his walk into eternity.
As_ he passed. Hauptmann’s cell, he
paused, reached out and touched the grim
bars. These strange men—one a World
War machine gunner convicted of the
crime of the century, the other a twenty-
two-year-old lad. who looked like a col-
lege boy—stood there facing one another,
their eyes: meeting, their hands’ trembling,
their hearts heavy.
“Goodbye, Bruno,”. Kurt _ smiled. “Tey
Sorry to have to leave you so soon. You
have been my very good friend—my best
friend. I wish we could talk some more.
I wish—ah, if wishes could only turn back
the clock!”
Bruno Hauptmann never answered
Kurt Barth’s last words on earth. He
couldn’t. His heart was as full as his
eyes. The German carpenter cried
openly and unashamed as the footfalls of
Barth and’ his guards faded away down
+ the corridor and ceased entirely with the
click of the door ,of death.’
RIDDLE OF THE
HANGING SKELETON
(Continued from page 11)
before her, the woman related.
Investigators discovered that on another
occasion, April 29, 1933—two days be-
fore his disappearance—McBee made one
of his infrequent night appearances, ac-
companying Mrs. McBee to a dance given
by Hulin Erwin in Rising Star. Henry
was present. “McBee was drinking, and
Mrs. McBee angrily shoved him out of
the house, calling him a “dirty old brute.”
Erwin confided to the officers that “there
might have been some kissing between
McBee’s wife and young Henry.”
A love triangle, so usual in murder
‘ cases, began to take definite shape under
the state investigators’ persistent ham-
mering, but there were still no definite
clues. Officers Thompson and Barr turned
to the physical evidence in the case. They
examined minutely the rotted clothing
found on the skeleton, the piece of tat-
tered quilt uncovered by Farmer Brough-
ton, and the heavy wire by which the
bones were suspended from the tree
Meager leads—but the dogged persistence
of the state men was rewarded in startling
fashion.
NX THE BACK of Sandy Tyler’s home
they found the clipped end of a wire
‘that had been used as a clothes line. The
wire was identical in size and texture
with the strand with which the skeleton
was suspended from the tree. And the
ends fitted together perfectly!
Then the officers discovered that the
piece of quilt found near the remains was
from.a quilt that had been in the Tyler
home. They questioned Mrs. Tyler, who
readily admitted the remnant was from a
quilt that somehow had become “lost”
from her house.
She told the investigators, however, that
Mrs. McBee had moved into her home
three weeks after McBee had gone. Ray-
mond Henry frequently came over, and
Mrs. Tyler said she asked Mrs. McBee
to leave because “I didn’t like the way
she was acting so affectionate with Ray-
mond in front of the children.” Mrs.
Tyler: said she saw Henry and Mrs. Mc-
Bee on the bed together.
But Mrs. Tyler proved a source of
even more valuable information. She
told the officers that the clothing found
on the skeleton was in her home after
McBee disappeared and while Mrs. McBee
was living in the house. Mrs. Tyler said
she remembered distinctly seeing the high-
way tag attached to a shirt. She identi-
fied beyond doubt the faded shirt, the
tattered work trousers and the blackened
39
TRAGEDY OF CRIME
Shown seated in court, the par-
ents and sister of the slayer heard
him condemned to the electric
chair. They had known nothing
of his criminal ways.
“YOUNG MAN ...SEDAN..."
These last words Julius Friedman
(below), Bloomfield haberdasher,
gasped even after a slug had pierced
his heart and his assailant fled in
numbers was a simple one—the murder car’s
tail light was out!
David Friedman, twenty-eight-year-old brother
of the dead man, had entered in the meantime.
Returning from dinner to relieve Julius, he
came upon murder instead. His lips trembling,
the man told what he knew—and it was little
enough. A few hours before, while Julius was
out of the store, a slender, well-dressed young
man had come in and inquired about good business
locations in the neighborhood. ~
“T noticed,” David said, “that his eyes kept
sweeping over the place. He seemed to be sizing
it up, but I thought nothing of it at the time.”
This seemed significant to me. Evidently the
killer had been sizing the place up. But he over-
looked one point. He could not have known David
would leave his brother in charge .of the store
and thus, through David, leave a clue to his iden-
tity. Whether the killer had planned to do mur-
der to wipe out possible later recognition, I did
not know.
I carefully inspected the store. Everything
seemed in order. Only the telltale red smear
on the floor announced the presence of crime. And
then something bright struck my eye from a
corner of the counter. It was a pair of eyeglasses!
I turned to David Friedman.
“Did your brother wear glasses?” I asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes, those are his.”
14
Another clue that was no clue! Then I stooped again. My hand
came up with a folded strip of paper wadding about eight inches
long and two inches wide. I was puzzled. The Friedman brothers,
I had observed, were extremely neat. The store was scrupulously
clean, as though it had just been swept.
Suddenly it came to me what this strip of wadding was. There
were perspiration ‘stains on it. The folded paper had .been used
inside a hat band, as is customary when a hat is slightly too large.
I turned toward David. “Was this lying here when you left
Julius ?” .
He shook his head. “I swept the store out just before I went to
dinner,” he said. “I know it doesn’t belong to my brother, because
‘he never ‘placed wadding in his hat.”
The wadding, then, had possibly been left there by Friedman’s
killer—or it may have been dropped by a customer. I knew it might
prove valueless, but nevertheless I stowed it in my pocket for safe-
keeping. '
Woes I had finished at the murder scene I had just two leads—
the Plymouth rhurder car and the paper wadding. Admittedly slim
clues, they were at least something to.work on. a
We had already discarded the theory that Friedman had _ been
the victim of gangland executioners. Investigation disclosed he had
been in business at the Broad Street address for more than five years,
that he -was well liked and apparently had not a single enemy. Nor
was there a likelihood that a woman’s jealousy had driven someone
to take his life. There were no women in Julius Friedman’s bachelor
existence.
One point had been troubling me. If a holdup had been com-
mitted, why had not the sixty dollars in the register and another forty
on Julius’s person been taken? The paper wadding appeared the
solution to that. There had been a struggle. The gunman had had
no time to take the money. He had fired his deadly bullet, retrieved
the hat knocked from his head, and vanished. The paper wadding
had been overlooked in his wild dash for freedom. Detective Lieutenant
Whalen, Chief Jensen and the’ other detectives were of the same
opinion.
A stickup in itself was not a surprising thing. Scores were com-
mitted every day throughout the country. But what made this job
appear out of the ordinary was that it seemed to be another sortie
in a reign of terror instituted in the community several months ago
by. a Jone gunman.
Every police agency in the county was: on the lookout for this gun-
man, but somehow he always managed to do his lawless work and,
like a will-o’-the-wisp, vanish into the night before the arm of the
law
law
befor
tl
tion
your
come
Juli
used
could
one |
at th
not h
mar
him
Bi
calle:
sticku
sedar
his y
numb.
the
uncan
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auto]
Mart
cal |
man,
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a do
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able
Pas]
Mart
know?
I
fron
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Th
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law could reach him. He struck with snake-like rapidity, and | “Hoffman, we were given a bound stack of papers listing
law-abiding, respectable business men cringed, abjecfly every Plymouth sedan owner in Essex, Passaic and Bergen
before his gun. ‘ counties. We went through these papers until. we were
I thought back along the trail of his crime career, Deserip - ready to drop with fatigue. Right down to the very last name
tions of him—sketchy ones always—indicated that he was a ‘we went, trying to find the murder car’s owner, but our quest
young man. David Friedman had told me a young man had was. futile.
come into his store to inquire about business locations. And}.
Julius, even as he lay dying, had gasped out something about — ERA ee was only one other course to take. We began
-a “you ng. tedious systematic checkup of holdup victims—more than
man.” ' three score—who had been terrorized by a lone gunman in
This mys- the past few months.
terious ‘stickup , Almost all of them agreed that the man who had robbed
aa0 > man had never them was young. indeed. Not a few of the victims placed his
HEE Fa age at less than twenty. In every instance the-marauder had
h. a ies been as dapper as though he were making a social call. From
TH 1 Vy E the many descriptions, we pieced together a composite pic-
i ee Negi ’ ture of the gunman. He was slender, well built, and had a
zs GRIEVED — clear, ; peaches-and-cream complexion. He wore rimless
eS pe Wrens hee ' glasses. A felt hat topped hair tending toward blond. This
iH ws j ‘mann wepi youngster looked like a lad just entering a freshman college
ahen his young . class!
ie pal, the con- . And then, while we were following up. one lead after
TH Thue Wee ik another, the dapper gun-toter struck again. On April 12,
4 ie Ther oired six days after the murder of Julius Friedman, he descended
‘chair. _ on a gasoline service station’ in Cedar Grove, forced the
“proprietor into a rear room, and
escaped with a sizeable amount of loot.
- The description we got from the vic-
tim tallied with that of the man we
were after. The young desperado was
rampant again!
Three. days later occurred an in-
cident that proved the daring ‘of our
quarry. A report came to me late
at night that a Plymouth sedan had
been stopped in North Arlington by
used his gun for murder before. I Officers Thomas Harnett and Michael
could understand that, of course. No “Keane. They were patrolling Van
one had ever resisted him before. But. Ness Avenue in a police car when
at the first sign of danger, he had the Plymouth roared past them,
not hesitated to pull the trigger. This
man was dangerous—we had to get
him!
But he was clever as well. I re-
called now that in every one of his
sedan like the Plymouth. Not one of ; :
his victims had ever glimpsed a license ae .
number which had been reported to
the police more than once. It was
uncanny. . a 2 sets Rie
That night I awaited eagerly the a
autopsy report of Dr. Harrison E. le i
Martland, chief Essex County Medi- SPRINTER FOILED See:
cal Examiner. It finally came. Fried- Detective War- Detective John "ae
man, he reported, had been killed by Vas pep you! day 3g —
a .38 caliber bullet propelled from a beget * pa oes ly re
revolver not more than four feet from then took after the gunman’s
him. Entering the chest, the lethal the desperado daring escape
slug had pierced the heart and. taken and caught him after he had been
a downward course. With a bullet OS SAREE REET disarmed,
through his heart, Friedman had been
able to stagger out of his store and
gasp out several words before he’ died. It seemed incredible, but Dr.
Martland explained that many persons shot through the heart have been
known to continue functioning for a short time hefore they collapse.
I next called upon the fingerprint men, who told me that prints taken
from the counter proved nothing. I weighed what we had. A paper hat traveling at least sixty. The’ officers gave
wadding, a mysterious sedan which had vanished in the night, and a young chase, overhauled the car and demanded
killer. Not much there... . the driver’s auto license and registration.
The Bloomfield detectives and I immediately tackled the investigation There were two young men and two young
from, another angle. We went to Trenton, the state capital. At the motor women inside. The driver was blond,
vehicle license bureau, then in charge of the now Governor Harold G. (Continued on page 38)
* '
15
THE KILLER
BRUNO MOURNED -
(Continued from page 15)
wore rimless spectacles, and appeared no
more than twenty years of age.
The youth produced his driver's license,
regarding the officers calmly. To this
day Harnett and Keane do not know
whether, in the light of subsequent events,
a gun was at that moment trained upon
them from: behind the car door. Harnett
extended a hand. 3
“Well, where’s the car registration ?”
he demanded, glancing briefly at the driv-
er’s license.
“Sorry, officer, but I haven't any regis-
tration card with me.” The young man:
hesitated. “I left it home.” .
“Oh, you left it home, did you?” sar- -
castically retorted Officer Keane. He
lifted himself to the running board. “Let’s
get going to headquarters,” he ordered.
“You can tell that to the captain.”
With Officer Harnett following in the
police car, they made their way to head-
quarters, a short distance away. Keane
stepped from the running board and or-
dered the young man to pull into the drive-
way adjoining the green-lighted structure.
Harnett, in the meantime, was parking
his car in front of the building. Neither
he nor his fellow officer were prepared
for the fast action that followed.
The driver of the Plymouth suddenly
shot the car into gear. The vehicle leaped
ahead as though it had been propelled
from a cannon. It roared across the
driveway, sped down a lawn, jumped a
curb and was away. The tail light
winked out just as Harnett dashed back
into his patrol car and started to give
chase. It was hopeless. The speeding
Plymouth had sufficient time to gather
momentum and careen away into dimly-
lighted side streets. Harnett returned
to headquarters to make his report.
Both Keane and Harnett however, had
jotted down the car’s license plate num-
bers. That registration, P5930, was to
lead us down a strange trail. We could
not be certain the young man at. the
wheel of the Plymouth was the killer
we were after. But the description of him
given by both Keane and Harnett matched
perfectly with our composite picture—the
schoolboy-like youngster on a gun-sling-
ing rampage.
E checked on P5930 and discovered
W ict the plates had been stolen March
8 from a car belonging to a North Arling-
ton firm. Mrs. William Hayford, its
president, informed us the plates had been
removed from a car assigned to the Mor-
ristown branch of the firm.
I lost no time in ordering a police tele-
type sent to every county in the vicinity,
asking police authorities to be on the
watch for a Plymouth sedan bearing reg-
istration P5930. I also included our latest
description of the man we sought. Then,
with Keane at my side, I drove to Mor-
ristown, a community famed for its histor-
ical importance. We consulted Chief of
Police Fred Roff, who gave us information
that was highly interesting. pe
A grocery man named Sam Ruben had
been held up on March 16 by a young
man who answered the description of
Julius Friedman’s — killer. Ruben had
hurled a heavy meat knife at the mas-
auder who promptly took a pot shot at
his victim and missed. He had escaped in
what appeared to be a Plymouth sedan.
38
INSIDE DETECTIVE
I interrupted Chief Roff’s narrative.
“Did you say he shot at Ruben and
missed ?””
“That's right.”
I whistled with joy. “Then that bul-
let is still in the wall somewhere. Do you
get, what that means? Let’s go!”
I couldn’t wait till we reached Ruben’s
Store at 173 Speedwell Avenue. Here was
a chance for ballistics science to prove that
the gunman who held up Ruben was the
Same man who murdered Friedman! If
the riflings on the Friedman bullet—those
tiny microscopic marks which are as
readable as newsprint to an expert—
matched those of the slug in the wall of
Ruben’s grocery, we would be a_ step
_ closer to the killer!
Sam Ruben’ was a little bit of a man. I
doubt if he weighed a hundred pounds, and
it amazed me to think he ‘had routed the
deadly young gangster of the deceivingly
soft complexion.
Ruben told how he had run after the
gunman and jotted down the plate num-
bers of a car_a Plymouth—which whirled
away from the curb. Plate numbers
P5930!
But I wasn’t so much interested in the
story as I was in where the bullet intended
for Ruben had lodged. The little man
showed us. I told him it would be neces-
ote
SENTENCED KILLER
The trial of Kurt Barth, youthful Jersey.
desperado, was held before Judge Daniel
J. Brennan. Under the verdict, the jurist
had to impose the supreme penalty.
Sary to tear down the wall and get it,
and explained that he would be reimbursed
for the damage. He didn't mind. In the
interests of justice and humanity, he said,
he would be willing to have us even cart
the store away.
It took us two days of careful digging
to reach that bullet—two days for a tiny
prize the size of a pebble. But the labor
was worth it. I turned the slug about
in my palm. It was a’ .38, all right!
Now to put it under the microscope in my
laboratory. :
I drove back to Newark. I hadn’t had
any sleep for days, but sleep was the
farthest thing from my: mind, for I knew
I was getting closer and closer to the
quarry. I placed the bullet removed from
Ruben’s store on my microscope. Along-
side it I set the slug taken from Friedman’s
body and examined the two carefully, My
blood quickened. They had been fired
from the samé gun!
UE till now we had only surmised
that the Friedman killer was ‘the
phantom of North Jersey. Now we were
certain! I notified Chief Jensen and the
Bloomfield detectives who had worked
with me of what I had learned. - They
joined me in dispatching circulars and tele-.
type messages to every police department
-
a cc ace = we
in the state. Every detective, ever)
plainclothesman, every patrolman walking
his beat and every patrol squad was given
bulletins. describing the man we wanted.
Cars were stopped on highways. Hard-
jawed policemen with ready revolvers care-
fully scrutinized every young man in any-
thing resembling a sedan. We laid a
dragnet over upper New Jersey through
which we were sure _ this bespectacled
young marauder could not crawl.
But crawl through it he did!
He must have known. this area was
“hot,” that we would not let up until we
had him behind bars. Yet with daredevil
contempt for law he began a new series of
raids. One night he pulled four jobs in
the amazing space of fifty minutes!
Twenty more holdups terrorized store-
keepers before the cool gunman began to
edge closer to the hungry trap we had set
for him. There was little sleep for us
those days. Then finally came the report,
on May 2, which proved the beginning of
the end for New Jersey's premier public
enemy. It came from Clifton, a small com-
munity almost in the center of the mad re-
gion of outlawry,
Patrolman George Schroeder, on duty
from one A. M. to nine A. M., reported to
his superiors who in turn notified me that
he had occasionally observed a Plymouth
sedan parked in a dark side street. Mind-
ful of the almost daily bulletins, he had
noted the registration of the car. It was
1E-11602.
One night he came across the car again.
young man wearing spectacles that
gleamed in the dark drove up to the ac-
customed ‘parking place, got out and
walked down the street, Officer Schroe-
der stalked him, keeping well in the
shadows of trees. As the unsuspecting
youth stepped into the full Tays of a cor-
ner light, the patrolman Started. This
was the: man described in the bulletins !
Everything matched—size, height, clothes, ~
glasses, complexion. This was the man
wanted for scores of stickups and the mur-
der of Friedman!
Schroeder watched the young man enter
a two-story frame structure at 86 Getty
Avenue, and Saw, a moment later, a smail
square of window in the attic blaze with
light. He strode back to the parked sedan,
struck a match, and glued his eyes to the
license plate. The tiny orange flame
burned his fingers, but he was hardly
aware of it,
HE registration before him was not
1E-11602, the number he had so care-
fully jotted down. In its place, instead,
was the number P5930!
Officer Schroeder hurried swiftly back
to the house on Getty Avenue, arriving
just in time to see the attic light wink out.
All night he kept his vigil. Just before
going off his beat that morning, he notified
superiors of his discovery.
At once Clifton Police headquarters was
transformed into a place of hurrying feet
and clacking teletypes. Word was sent
me to come on the double.
Detectives Warren Marchione and
John Shackleton were ordered with
Schroeder to the Getty Avenue house, All
three men realized the danger of their
mission—knew that they might be walk-
ing into gun-blazing death.
Marchione was detailed to guard the
front door. Tensed, Shackleton and
Schroeder entered the house, A small,
pleasant woman greeted them, evidently
the: mother, They told her they wanted
to ask her son a few questions. The
woman eyed them with growing fright in
her eyes. She said her son’s name was
Kurt Barth, but she couldn’t understand
what they wanted with her boy. .
The officers felt sorry for this gentle
woman who was about to know sorrow
Sia
Was
time
unde
this
conte
tain
Essex
in gue
We
ce ee ee
SLA od 3
i .
SALEM COUNTY
> BEING THE STORY OF JOHN FENWICK’S COLONY,
‘ THE OLDEST ENGLISH SPEAKING SETTLEMENT
ON THE DELAWARE RIVER.
BY
JOSEPH s. SICKLER
“ab “PORE Croat Cn eae dee ton Ca beaes
SHERIFF MURDERE)) 77
justices were Isaac Sharp, John Mason and Alexander Grant.
The freeholders who aided the justices in the trial were Joseph
Gregory, Daniel Rumsey, John Brick, Andrew Hopman and
John Lloyd.
It must be remembered that the courts of New Jersey were
then in their infancy, that no elaborate court system had been
evolved, that there was no Supreme Court and no Court of
Errors and Appeals, and that the Salem Court of Record was
only eleven years old. Despite all these handicaps the trial was
undoubtedly fair and just. The defendants were allowed to tell
their own stories without interruption and one of them was dis-
charged as soon as it appeared that the evidence in no way
connected him with the murder.
The justices and freeholders ordered Mr. William Griffin to
prosecute the prisoners on behalf of “Our Sovereign Lord the
King,” meaning George I of Hanover, who had only been on the
English throne a little over two years.
There appears to have been no counsel assigned to the
slaves but in view of the Prevalent IEnglish custom this was not
unusual. Hager, the female slave of Mr. Sherron, was first
brought to the bar and being accused pleaded not guilty, vet
made the acknowledgement that she knew of the intended
murder and was present when her master was murdered. She
was followed by John Hunt, another slave but apparently not
owned by Sherron, who declared in quaint language that the
said murdered person had been a living person only for the
said Hager, who met the said Hunt the evening the murder
was done,
John Hewett declared that one night being upon watch of
the said Negroes and others, he heard a conversation between
Hager and Hunt in which Hunt asked Hager “did she remember
the poison she proposed to put in her master’s broth?”
The negro boy Ben, who testified and pleaded at the same
time, confessed that he had brought the hatchet to Hunt, the
person who actually committed the crime, at the request of
Hunt, just before the murder was committed and he heard the
victim cry out in agony, and that he knew that when he brought
the weapon that Hunt intended to kill Mr. Sherron.
This seems to be the entire case offered in court because in
the next entry the justices in conjunction with the freeholders
found the slave Hager guilty and condemned her to be burnt.
They likewise determined the boy Ben to be guilty and con-
demned him to be hung by the neck until dead and then to be
chained up in gibbets.
-_ The second trial of this case was held by adjournment on
May 2lst and 27th, 1717. This also Presents some curious
yld hut
a mat-
aacell
; head-
gather
2 watch
roker’s,
ad with
ie ditch
; formal
. May 7,
r stum-
> in be-
all, and
md, the
: squad
ast.
- Chung,
d clever
saw pat-
osed.”
ae past?
vion for
in Wad-
it of her
anced in
oe many,
he heart
whisper,
i West is
ag home
ing that
ace man
uired
said Vir-
Willy—-
came and
Mommy.
ch. When
e furnace
the fire.
Virginia?”
girl shook
d. “I saw
side of the
1 Brigham
reen years
the house
remember
adows this
1 in,” said
> to shed a
”
to the Bat-
sung Willy
y man said
story win-
» the morn-
id returned
n and had .
he day. His
orroborated
!
peasants
his statement, averring that her son
had come home at twelve o’clock and
had spent the afternoon painting the
kitchen, ° hee
, “I gave the kitchen two coats of
paint,” said the young Negro. ©
We then interrogated his father. He
gave us a good account of his actions
throughout the day -before, his daily
furnace route was a routine chore, his
actions were easily checked by merely
asking the persons who employed him
at what time he had showed up to
tend their furnaces. CS eee
There, was, however, one lapse in
his time schedule. No witnesses could
account for his activities between the
hours of two and two-thirty. At two
he had entered a house some ten doors
away from the Brigham home—and at
two-thirty he had entered one only
three doors away. He himself was un-
able to explain what he had done to
take up the unaccounted for time.
However, he protested his innocence
convincingly throughout a grilling that
lasted until five o’clock in the morn-
ing. In the hope of incriminating him
we checked the celler for his finger-
prints alone, but none were found. A
good set of his son’s impressions were
found on a window sill, but Willy ex-
plained them satisfactorily when. he
told us that he must have left them
there while washing the windows.
v
seme , wou
FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE
After this line of the investigation
had been washed up, we requested Mr.
Brigham to check through his wife’s
belongings, paying special attention to
jewelry, and see if anything were
missing. He reported that a wristwatch
which his late wife had worn habitual-
ly, could not be located. We at once
commenced a search in all pawn shops
and jewelry stores. This missing watch,
we decided, was the one tangible clue
with which we could proceed.
And with the break of day, we began
a thorough interrogation of neighbors
in the hope of discovering some lead
to the identity of the stranger who
had called upon Mrs. Brigham in the
early afternoon of the day before. The
story was carried beneath smashing ”
headlines on the front pages of the
local newspapers, and there was hope
that someone. would step forward with
_ the information we so needed.
But when noon rolled around, no
one had come to us with anything that
looked like a sound tip. We were no,
further toward the solution of the
brutal killing than we had been the
previous evening.
We knew that James Battles could
have done it; but we had no reason
to believe he had. He was held for
further questioning, but it was a pretty
routine affair. The man we wanted
was the so-far mysterious stranger.
After the sex slayer had finished his i
om
nfamous murder he placed the body in this
preserve closet where authorities found it after many hours of searching.
Scene of Horror
95
All we knew about him was that he
was tall and thin and wore a derby
hit.
Prom the brief flash of his actions
a vorced us by Mrs. Washburn, certain
d-ductions could be drawn. First, it
avpeared that Mrs. Brigham had
s own no hesitation in admitting him
t» th- house. So it was evident that he
yas known to the victim. This was
corrcborated by the fact that the man
i. the derby had called at no other
}ous:s in the neighborhood—which
zlso compelled us to draw the con-
clusion that he was not a salesman
cr house-to-house canvasser.
Suspicion was thrown. increasingly
upon him with every hour that he
delayed walking into headquarters and
explaining what his business had been
in the Brigham home at that particular
time. For if he was unwilling to inform
the police of the purpose of his visit,
it appeared to us that it could hardly
have been legitimate. . .
But the day passed without his ap-
pearance or discovery, and at six
o’clock in the evening a general con-
ference was called in police headquar-
ters. All information on the case was
discussed with the hope of discovering
some break in the facts already sup-
plied us which might lead to a clue.
One fact puzzled us most. When Mr.
Brigham returned home on the after-
noon of the day before, he had found
the preserve closet locked and the key
hanging in its customary place on a
hook in the kitchen, Evidently the
murderer either was familiar with the
house or had seen Mrs. Brigham take
the key from its resting place and had
troubled to-return it once his ghastly
work was completed.
“Another point which establishes the
killer’s familiarity with the house,”
said Lieutenant Kloebles, “is that his
victim was knocked down at the foot
of the cellar stairs. She would never
have gone down there if she hadn’t
known her assailant.”
“I’ve questioned Mr. Brigham,” said
Captain Godfrey, “and he says he has
no idea whatsoever as to the identity
of the caller in the derby hat. He and
his family moved here from Los
Angeles only two months ago. They
have no friends or relatives in Orange.”
The conference dragged on, each
officer on the case, contributing points
that puzzled him or which he con-
sidered might be of help in clearing up
the investigation. But nothing was
found which promised to clear up any
of the fog with which the murder was
surrounded.
Because nothing else offered,,it was
decided to clear up a minor point in
te alibi of Willy Battles which Lieu-
tenant Cronin had found difficult to
explain.
“when Byrnes and I were over at
}is house,” the lieutenant said, “Willy
lattles told us that he’d given the
) itchen two coats of paint that after-
oon. It’s a pretty big kitchen, and I
con’t see how one man could possibly
©o the job twice in a few hours. It’s
‘he one point in his story that seems
. little overdrawn.”
ut
ot
36
“Well, the old man’s got a couple
of shaky points in his story too,” said
Captain Godfrey. “But apparently the
murder was committed while the chil-
dren were asleep, and the only person
seen around the Brigham house during
that time was this guy in the derby
hat.
“If one of the Battleses did it, he’d
have had to enter and leave without
being observed. Sure, they could have
killed her, either of them, but so could
the derby hat man. Theories don’t
mean a thing in this case. We’ve got
too many possibilities.” -
“TI think we ought to look the furnace
tender’s house over once more,” argued
Cronin, “just in case. We aren’t get-
ting anywhere as it is.” :
“All right,” said Godfrey, “but P’ll
send Byrnes and Linarducci this time.
The rest of you get busy and find that
strange visitor.”
So Byrnes and I returned to the Bat-
tles’s residence and combed it from
cellar to eaves. A painstaking exam-
ination of the kitchen supplied us with
the fact that two coats of paint had
been recently applied. It also con-
vinced us that they could have been
applied in the same afternoon.
In a waste-paper basket in the
kitchen, Byrnes picked up a color-card
from a paint store on Barrow Street
that advertised the type of paint used
on the job.
“Let’s go down there,” I suggested,
“and see how long it takes this stuff
Battles used to dry. Itll give us an
absolute check on his alibi. If it takes
more than two hours per coat, we’ll
know the young fellow was lying.”
Meanwhile, several interesting new
angles were breaking back at head-
quarters. First came the arrival of
Doctor Warren’s report. It was learned
that Mrs. Brigham had been definitely
and brutally assaulted before death.
Then, from the analytical chemistry
laboratories of Doctor William Edel,
came word that scientific study of the
scraping from under the finger nails of
James Battles had revealed the pres-_
ence of dried human blood! There had
been nothing conclusive discovered
under his son’s nails.
Also, information was received to
the effect that James Battles had
served a term for rape some years
before. The middle-aged furnace man
was brought back for further and in-
tensified questioning.
Byrnes and I, however, knew noth-
ing of these discoveries. We went on
our way to the paint shop and ques-
tioned the clerk about young Willy
Battles’s purchases.
“He was in here yesterday afternoon
FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE
about three o’clock to buy some paint,”
we were told. “I gave him that paint
card at the time. I should say that the
coating he used would take from four
to six hours to dry.”
This was all we wanted to know. We
returned quickly to the Battles resi-
dence and picked up Carrie Battles,
Willy’s mother. As we were taking
her to headquarters, we recalled a
statement she had made the day before
to the effect that her son had not been
out of the house all afternoon. The
alibi of the young Negro was begin-
ning to look like a slice of Swiss
cheese. ;
Under persistent questioning, Carrie
- finally broke down and admitted that
‘Willy had left the house at two o’clock.
Also, that: he had been gone an hour
and a half, and had returned at three-
thirty with the paint. During this
interrogation, the elder Battles, in
another room, persistently denied hav-
ing had anything to do with the
- murder,
As we continued our efforts to
break down completely these already
weakcned stories, Byrnes and Cronin
returned to the house of the suspects
for further search. And this time they
were rewarded with vital evidence.
Cronin dug a pair-of grey gloves. of
masculine type, one clasp of which
was missing, from an ashcan in the
back yard while his partner found a
jewelry store watch-repair ticket in
a dresser drawer of young Willy’s
chamber. They left the house hur-
riedly and headed for the jewelry
store. wae
“T’d like to pick up this watch,”
said Cronin to Louis Sheppard, the
owner of the store, across the counter.
Shep; ard nodded and disappeared in
the back of the shop. He came back
in a moment, bearing. the desired
article.
“Do you happen to remember who
left ii here?” Cronin then inquired.
Shepy ard nodded again.
“Suce,”’ he said pleasantly. “It was
left by a colored boy, young Willy
Battles. The strap was broken, and I
fixed it up. It’s a dollar fifty. Here
she is.”
“Okay. Thanks,” said the officer. He
paid ‘sheppard his fee and sped back
to headquarters. Brigham was sent for
at once. He recognized the timepiece
immediately.
“I gave this watch to Peggy for
Christmas,” he stated. “If you pry the
cover open, you'll find her initials in-
side.”
Captain Godfrey opened up the back,
and found that the bereaved man had
been speaking the truth. Also, the
-glove-fastener which had been picked
up in the Brigham cellar fitted exactly
the torn place in the glove Cronin had
picked up in the\ash barrel. Willy -
Battles was sent. for.
He attempted to continue his denials
of knowledge of the crime, even after
confronted with the damning evidence,
but under a hot grilling, he finally
cracked late in. the*evening.
“My father-had nothing to do with
it,” he said. “Instead ‘of going to the
paint store right. away, I came back
to the Brigham home and entered by:
the side door, where my father always
goes in to his work. Mrs. Brigham
called to me and came down the stairs
when I told her I was fixing to wash
the cellar windows. *
“Just as a stall, I.started to work.
That window -is the one which you
found my prints.. They weren't left
there in the morning, as I told you
' before. Anyway, Mrs. Brigham came
in, and I cuffed her alittle. She slipped
off the bottom step and hit her head
on a water pipe. Then I got a rope
from the laundry and tied it around
her neck... .”.
The. remainder of the confession is
unprintable. ae he
By the following morning, the print-
able part of the.confession was in the
headlines. And within an hour of the
appearance of the first editions on the
streets, a tall thin: man, wearing a
derby hat, walked into police head-
quarters. * ies
He said that his-name was John
Turnbull and that he was an insur-
ance salesman: He also admitted that
he was the mysterious suspect for
' whom we had been searching so fran-
tically. His excuse’ in not stepping
forward to aid- the investigation was
that he was afraid of being involved
in the crime... 2.”
This annoyed: police more than a
little, but no action was taken against
him because, without his aid, the case
had been broken in fewer than twen-
ty-four hours. se
On. January fourth, 1923, Willy
Battles went on trial for his life. He
repudiated his confession and claimed
that it had been wrung from him by
third degree: methods. However, he
fell down badly before the prosecutor's
cross examination, and was convicted
by the jury and sentenced to be ex-
ecuted.in the electric chair. His at-
torneys then sought to have him
judged insane, but to no avail.
A few months later, Willy Battles’s
lithe black body struggled in ‘agony
against the metal plates and straps
that held it in the line of the lethal
currents that coursed through it.
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seed Sn
November 6th, w
in my home, and
needed five hunc
“T said, ‘Harol
that to me not tc
ing.’ Harold then
surance my husbe
it was three tl
straight life and
a weekly premiu
Harold said, ‘The
enough to bury |
was discussed th:
“On November
me, ‘Are you sti!
He meant, was I:
dering my husba
and we discusse
set but I agreed
the front door. T!
to commit the c:
sack the cupboar
the silver in the
it seem as if a bu
“On November
a visit and asked
to it, and he too:
pocket. He told
would be comn
night and four in
fore took it for g
kill my husban:
night.
“After gaining
house, Harold w<
arouse my husba
Bill would mista
and try to resist h
to choke him to
wear gloves
wouldn’t show. T
me, so that when
would have an e:
at of the man found
‘rmatory. Apparently
h was the single bul-
| her skull above the
od in the brain.”
examined the body
tirl’s clothing, which
no labels nor any
ne had been removed.
leap, but neat,” said
srobably bought it in
ent and that is the
nt isn’t labeled.”
te and brown shoes
' a nationally-known
‘his, the detectives
‘emote chance of es-
dentity, since only
and tedious tracing
icturer through the
iler could the buyer
en then the search
an ordered the body
‘gue, where autopsies
could be performed
be date was Thurs-
‘armody still were
8 am., when Mrs.
look at the features
sattling to hold back
rly woman was led
where an attendant
eet that covered the
ieked. “That's my
have mercy!”
ted the woman, near
er sobbing from the
dentified
jators were certain
ity. But who was
a? .
jalatian at Linden
‘e a police matron
Irs. Kupfer, “that
nted with the girl.
iis background and
ind out who she is.”
”
,’ agreed Carmody.
» the reformatory
rank Moore, ane
telephoned po
ice.
“And the place to start is in Perth
Amboy, where Kupfer lived and
worked.”
While the chief and the inspector
went off duty for a few hours of badly-
needed sleep, detectives worked with
Chief Burke in the seaside city to un-
earth any possible lead to the myste-
rious double murder.
As they were questioning friends and
associates of the young factory super-
intendent, Galatian’s office received a
call from the state motor vehicle bureau
at Trenton. The black touring car was
registered in Kupfer’s name!
Burke and the Perth Amboy inves-.
tigators talked with several persons
who had known Kupfer. Everyone
spoke highly of the young man, declar-
ing him to be sober, industrious and
above reproach. He was best known
for the prominent part he took in the
activities of the Elks. He had an inter-
est in the cigar factory which he super-
intended. As a good citizen, it seemed
incredible that anywhere in his private
life there should lurk a motive for
his murder.
At last the detectives located his most
intimate friend, Joseph Polkowitz, who
gave the first clue to the blonde’s
identity. .
“I know,” said the informant, “that
Arthur recently had been seeing a
young woman of this city. It seemed
strange to me, for he often told me
he never would marry so long as his
mother lived. He was devoted to his
mother and phoned her every day. I
don’t think he could have been serious
about this girl.”
“Who is she?” demanded Burke
eagerly.
“Edith Janny, cashier at the -Hote
Madison.”
The detectives sped to the hotel,
where they learned that the striking
blonde had not reported for work that
day. The manager had assumed she
was ill. Now he called her home, and
her widowed mother reported tearfully
that Edith had not come home all night!
‘At the Janny residence, a modest
white frame house, Burke and his men
found the mother hysterical with worry.
At the sight of the officers, she paled.
Chief Burke told Mrs. Janny he feared
her daughter had met with an accident,
and asked her to go with them to
Linden.
On the way to the morgue, the chief
broke the grim truth to steel the
‘mother for the ordeal to come. After
a fit of sobbing, she calmed sufficiently
to view the remains. Knowing what to
expect, Mrs. Janny was outwardly
calm, but tense, as she spoke quietly.
“That is Edith. What a pity!”
Inspector Galatian and Chief Car-
mody, back on duty, conferred with
Chief Burke and the other detectives
at Linden headquarters.
“Obviously,” said Galatian, “Kupfer
and Miss Janny had a date last night.
Her mother knew she was going out,
but not with whom. We must press
our inquiry on two fronts now—into
the activities of the slain couple last
night, and into the background of the
girl.” z
Returning to Perth Amboy ‘with
Burke, the inspector took charge of the
entire investigation. During the rest
of the day and far into the evening,
they worked steadily.
Edith Was a Home Girl
Edith Janny was a young woman
with a great many friends, most of
them girls who had been high school
chums. Thus it was not difficult for the
investigators to paint, from the state-
ments of the victim’s acquaintances, an
oi picture of her character and
life. ,
Although fun-loving, Edith was
strictly a home girl, quiet, decent, well-
respected. She was fond of tennis and
liked to swim on the famous New Jer-
sey beaches. Her brother and two sis-
ters said she had had about as many
beaux as other girls in her set, but
there seemed to be only one youth of
whom Edith was at all fond. He was
Jasper Conway, a chauffeur, who had
been sent to Camp Dix in the draft two
‘months earlier. He and Edith did not
correspond.
Quickly suspecting that Conway
might have heard that Edith had fallen
in love with the young cigar factory
boss while he was in uniform, and that
jealousy had motivated the double
killing, the detectives checked with his
parents. Jasper, they said, had not been
home since he went into the Army.
Camp Dix authorities examined his
service record and interviewed his
company commander. The young sol-
dier had not been away from the mili-
tary reservation since his induction.
Further inquiry in Perth Amboy
brought to jight the fact that on the
eve of their deaths Kupfer and Miss
Janny had been on a double date. The
others with them were: Ivan Sampler
and Geraldine Harrison, who was a
saleswoman in Sampler’s small depart-
ment ‘store in Perth Amboy.
Sampler said that he and Kupfer,
in the latter’s car, met the girls by
appointment in a roadside dining place
at Seidler’s Beach at 8 p.m. They ate,
and danced for a couple of hours, and
then started back to Perth Amboy, the
store owner told the investigators.
“It was just an ordinary evening,”
Sampler recalled. “We dropped Ger-
aldine off first at her rooming house.
Then Kupfer and Edith drove me to
my home. That was about 11 o’clock.
They didn’t come in, but left together.
That was the last I saw of them.”
The detectives checked the ‘story
carefully with roadhouse employes and
neighbors of: both Sampler and Miss
Harrison. Every detail rang true. The
two couples had left the roadhouse
shortly after 10 o’clock; the saleswoman
had been seen to return home around
11, and soon afterward, the store owner
himself.
Where were the young superinten-
dent and his lovely blonde companion
from 11 o’clock until 2, when the shots
were fired? What were they doing on
the turnpike in Linden, ten miles north
of Perth Amboy and in the opposite
direction from the roadhouse? All inns
between the seashore city and Linden
were checked, but the slain couple had
not visited any of them.
isi6 TA a ee Oe
Bw eee ie Bi A A aa
On the following day the autopsy
reports were returned to Inspector Ga-
latian. Kupfer had been killed by a
.32-caliber slug which had entered his
chest high above the heart and had
taken a downward course into that
organ. Miss Janny had died of a sim-
ilar slug in her brain. Powder burns
ringed each wound. The shots had been
fired from close range.
Reconstructing the shooting, the de-
tectives reasoned that the killer sat in
the rear seat of the car and held the
gun close to Kupfer, at the wheel, and
then to Edith Janny’s head. Since the
shots apparently were fired after the
car had stopped, the slayers would not
fear that Kupfer would lose control
and wreck the machine. The girl had
not been criminally assaulted.
Checking with the relatives of the
victims,‘ the detectives learned that
Kupfer had worn a $600 diamond ring
and was in the habit of carrying large
sums in his wallet, while Miss Janny
had on a small diamond ring. All were
missing. Could the motive, after all,
have been robbery? Or were the valu-
ables stolen to make the crime look
like a robbery?
Still another possible motive was
suggested later in the day when an
employe of the cigar factory revealed
that he had been driving with his boss
on a Perth Amboy street one day when
the ‘superintendent pointed to a man
walking nearby.
“That fellow will get me some day,”
Kupfer said. “He’s got it in for me. I’m
not to blame, but he’s got it in for me
and he’ll get me.”
Few Clues Left
The man was a discharged employe,
but Kupfer had not mentioned his
name and the informant could give only
a vague description of him. This at best
was a feeble lead.
The bullet-pierced cap which Miss
Janny had been wearing was identified
as Kupfer’s. The powderpuff was ob-
viously hers. Now, the only clues left
were the slugs removed from the
bodies, and the two sets of fingerprints
found on the murder car.
The bullets were turned over to bal-
listics experts for examination, and
microphotographs of the markings on
them were placed on record. The fin-
gerprints were copied and sent to New
Jersey State authorities, and to the
New York City Police ‘Department.
But they checked with no prints of
known criminals in any of these files.
Days and weeks passed as Inspector
Galatian and the other investigators
worked patiently to develop a new lead
in the case. They made no progress.
All efforts failed to find the disgruntled
employe who supposedly had threat-
ened Kupfer. The officers reluctantly
conceded they were at a dead end.
During the months that followed, the
investigators of necessity were com-
pelled to occupy themselves with other
duties and more pressing cases, but
they stubbornly refused to drop the
Kupfer-Janny murders as_ unsolved.
Whenever they could find time, they
dug into the mystery again to keep
it alive.
(Continued on page 54) 21
20
They found no gun, and only one other
object—a woman’s powderpuff, almost
hidden in the crevice between the
cushion and back of the front seat. ~
“Dr. Moore must have been right
when he reported hearing the killers
talking about a woman,” said Carmody.
“But if she was in this car, was she an
accomplice or another victim?”
“That’s hard to tell,” observed Gala-
tian. “Moore said he heard them saying
something about -getting rid of her.
That could mean one of two things—
dropping her off alive or dead.”
The inspector’s experts carefully
dusted the steering wheel, gear shift
knob and brake levers and other parts
of the car’s interior with powdered
French chalk.
The powder readily showed up a mass
of prints on the levers and on the
wheel, but these were too jumbled to
be singled out. Just above the dash-
board, and on the top of the left front
door, however, the experts brought out
two sets of prints, each clear enough
to be photographed.
“Let’s hope,” said Galatian earnest-
ly, “that neither of these sets was made
by the victim.”
As a tow car from Linden headquar-
ters arrived to haul the murder car
back for closer examination, Galatian
and Carmody returned to Linden to
discuss their next move in the turnpike
horror.
Girl's Body Discovered
In the inspector’s office they found
word awaiting them from Perth Amboy.
Aided by Chief Burke, Galatian’s men
had located the clothier who had sold
the jacket, at his home. He readily
identified the garment as one which he
had made up especially for “a partic-
ular customer”—Arthur L. Kupfer,
superintendent of a Perth Amboy cigar
factory. The description of Kupfer, 30,
dark and handsome, corresponded with
that of the victim.
From tenants in the waterfront build-
ing where Kupfer had a three-room
apartment, Galatian’s men learned that
the young factory boss had only one
close relative—his mother, who lived
on St. Nicholas Avenue in New York
City. The inspector immediately tele-
phoned her, asking her to come to Lin-
den and view the victim’s remains to
verify the identification.
At daybreak, as Mrs. Kupfer was on
her way to the Linden morgue, the
case took another startling turn.
The officers, still searching the area
where the car was discovered, came:
upon the shapely body of a girl. Clad
in a white linen suit, streaked with
blood, she lay face down in a gully
beside the road, a mile nearer Linden
than where the auto was abandoned.
Gore from a bullet wound above her
left ear matted her long blonde hair,
done up in a bun in the back. Her
large blue eyes were fixed in a sight-
less stare. She was ravishingly pretty,
even in death.
Beside her lay a man’s light tan cap,
pierced on the left side by a bullet
hole. Leaving his companion to stand
guard over the corpse, the other officer
sped to the nearest police box and
telephoned Inspector Galatian.
His face drawn and his eyes blood-
shot from lack of sleep, the inspector
snapped instantly alert at the news of
the second victim’s discovery. He and
Chief Carmody raced to the scene.
Was this the woman to whom the
killers had referred when they hauled
the dead man’s body out of the car?
If so why was she killed? Who was
she? .
“From the location of the bullet hole
in the cap and the wound in the girl’s
head,” observed the inspector, “it would
seem that she was wearing the cap
when she was shot.”
Whose was it? Could it have been
that of the dead man, who was hatless?
Or did it belong to one of the killers?
The Union County medical examiner
arrived shortly and made a cursory
examination.
“She has-been dead for about four
hours,” declared the physician. “That
would place the time of her death as
George Brandon finally went to
the electric chair for the wan-
ton double slaying in New Jersey.
approximately that of the man found
opposite the reformatory. Apparently
the cause of death was the single bul-
let which entered her skull above the
left ear and lodged in the brain.”
The detectives examined the body
for clues. The girl’s clothing, which
was intact, bore no labels nor any
indication that some had been removed.
“The suit is cheap, but neat,” said
Carmody. “She probably bought it in
a bargain’ basement and that is the
reason the garment isn’t labeled.”
The girl’s white and brown shoes
bore the name of a nationally-known
manufacturer. This, the detectives
knew, offered a remote chance of es-
tablishing her identity, since only
through patient and tedious tracing
from the manufacturer through the
jobber to the retailer could the buyer
be learned—if even then the search
was successful.
Inspector Galatian ordered the body
removed to the morgue, where autopsies
on both victims could be performed
later in the day. The date was Thurs-
day, August 23, 1918.
Galatian and Carmody still were
without sleep at 8 am., when Mrs.
Kupfer arrived to look at the features
of the dead man. Battling to hold back
the tears, the elderly woman was led
into the morgue, where an attendant
pulled back the sheet that covered the
victim’s face.
“Yes!” she shrieked. “That’s my
Arthur! The Lord have mercy!”
Carmody supported the woman, near
collapse, and led her sobbing from the
room,
She Is Identified
Now the investigators were certain
of the man’s identity. But who was
the beautiful blonde? ‘
“T think,” said Galatian at Linden
headquarters, where a police matron
was comforting Mrs. Kupfer, “that
Kupfer was acquainted with the girl.
If we delve into his background and
activities, we may find out who she is.”
“It’s our: best bet,” agreed Carmody.
Shots outside the reformatory
aroused Dr Frank Moore, oa
intendent. He telephoned police.
eee
“And the ;
Amboy, w
worked.”
While th:
went off dui
needed slee
Chief Burk«
earth any 1}
rious doublk
As they wv
associates 0
intendent, (
call from th:
at Trenton.
registered ir
Burke an
tigators tal
who _ had
spoke high]
ing him to
above repri
for the pro:
activities of
est in the ci;
intended. A
incredible t!
life there ;
his murder.
At last the
intimate fric
gave the f
identity.
“T know,”
Arthur rec:
young wom
strange to
he never w
mother live:
mother and
don’t think }
about this g
“Who is
eagerly.
“Edith Ja
Madison.”
The dete:
where they
blonde had
day. The r
was ill. No:
her widowe:
that Edith h
At the J
white frame
found the m
At the sigh
Chief Burk«
her daughte
and asked
Linden.
On the w
broke the
mother for
a fit of sobt
to view the
expect, Mr
calm, but te
“That is }
Inspector
mody, back
Chief Burk
at Linden }
“Obvious
and Miss J:
Her mothe:
but not wi
our inquir)
the activiti
night, and
girl.”
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Turnpike Horror
(Continued from page 21)
In November the first World War came
to an abrupt end. The jubilant celebration
of the Armistice swept the nation. Only
the families of the victims—and the police
officers who had handled the case—remem-
bered that the slayers of Edith Janny and
Arthur Kupfer were still at large.
A year passed, and then late on the
cold, blustering afternoon: of Friday, De-
cember 12, 1919, a willowy brunette of 17
named Mary Logan and a husky, red-
haired man of 29 named George Brandon
walked together down a corridor of the
ancient borough hall in Brooklyn, and
presented themselves before the marriage
license clerk. They were accompanied by
a dark-haired young man who gave his
name as Samuel Miller.
Brandon and Miss Logan were. married
in a civil ceremony, at which Miller acted
as the witness. The happy trio departed
to celebrate.
But back at Mary’s home in Eighty-first
Street in Manhattan’s Yorkville district,
New York City Detectives William Smith,
Frank Grossman and Peter Skelly were
questioning her mother.
“My daughter is being married in
Brooklyn this afternoon,” explained the
puzzled Mrs. Logan. “What do you want?
Is—is she in some trouble?”
The detectives were waiting inside the
door when the boisterous wedding party
entered.
“Put ’em up—fast!” commanded Smith,
and the trio quickly complied.
The two men glowered. and the girl
burst into tears as the detectives searched
them. In the coat pockets of each man,
they found a .32-caliber revolver. The
girl was unarmed.
“Now, we'll tell you why we wanted
your daughter, Mrs. Logan,” explained
Smith. “She’s the girl who got away with
four diamond rings ten days ago in that
robbery at Armin Hollinger’s jewelry store
on Third Avenue, just around the corner.”
The detective did not disclose that Mary.
‘Logan had been traced by a methodical
canvass of the neighborhood, aided by an
accurate description of her given by the
jeweler. The girl had entered the store on
December 4 and asked to be shown some
rings. She took four diamonds, valued at
$2,100, to the front, saying she wanted to
examine them by daylight. Suddenly the
door was flung open by a dark-haired man.
The girl dashed outside, and sprang into a
waiting car, followed by her companion.
A third man—a redhead—was at the
wheel, and the auto sped away.
Hollinger, the jeweler, and his clerk
rushed out and fired several shots at the
fleeing machine. All went wild.
Fingerprints Match
Led before the robbery victims, Brandon,
his bride and Miller all were identified.
Taken to the stationhouse and booked on
charges of armed robbery, the three denied
their guilt. But under questioning, Mary
broke down and confessed.
Mary Brandon turned state’s evidence
and was placed on probation. Her husband
and Miller were sentenced to ten years
each, the former in Auburn and the: latter
in Sing Sing. Their .32-caliber revolvers
were impounded as evidence, and the pair
were duly fingerprinted and their prints
filed with the State Department of Correc-
tion at Albany.
Over in New Jersey, meanwhile, Inspec-
tor Galatian still doggedly sought to break
the Kupfer-Janny case.-
“Somewhere,” he told Chief Carmody
during an informal conference early in
1920, “the killers of that couple will make
a slip. We've eliminated all motives but
that of robbery. Any pair of crooks des-
perate enough to murder two innocent
victims and toss them out of a motor car
must be hardened thugs. They’ll strike
again, possibly with the same weapon or
weapons, or perhaps they’ll leave their
prints behind. Then. we’ll have them.”
Although he was heavily burdened by
current cases, Galatian had made it a prac-
tice to check regularly with the fingerprint
files of surrounding states on the chanée
that somehow, the killers had become en-
meshed in the toils of the law. Pressed for
time, the inspector could make these checks
only at fairly long intervals.
Accordingly it was not until July, 1920,
before Galatian got around to checking
again with the files of the New York De-
partment of Correction at Albany. Brandon
and Miller had gone to prison but two
months before.
Galatian was electrified to learn that the
prints of the pair matched exactly those
found on the car in which Edith Janny and
Arthur Kupfer were slain two years
earlier!
Acting speedily, the inspector sent for
the two .32-caliber revolvers found on the
men at the time of their arrest in the
jewel robbery. Ballistics experts, through
a careful examinatior of test bullets and
a comparison of these with the murder
slugs, established beyond all doubt that
both lethal bullets had come from the same
gun—the revolver found in Brandon’s
pocket!
Galatian and Carmody rushed to Albany
and then to Auburn to question the sus-
pected killers. Grilled for hours, Brandon
steadfastly denied any connection with the
double murder. But Miller, after a few
hours, cracked completely.
“Yeah, we done the job, all right. But
it was Brandon who fired the gun. I didn’t
want no part of it.”
On the night of the crime, Miller con-
fessed, he and Brandon were standing on
the corner of State and High Streets in
Perth Amboy, looking for a victim to rob.
Shortly after 1 a.m. a black touring car
stopped for a traffic sign. Kupfer was at
the wheel and Edith Janny sat beside him.
“We walked over and asked this guy if
he would give us a lift to the station to
catch the train for New York. He said,
‘Sure. Hop in.’ We got into the back seat
and he drove off. A couple of blocks down
the street, Brandon pushes his gun into
this guy’s back, while I do the same with
the girl. ‘Not a peep outa you, or I’ll blast
you to blazes!’ says Brandon. I tell the
dame the same thing. ‘Get going,’ says
Brandon. ‘Get out of town.’ The twist
starts to cry, but I slap her cheek and she
stops.”
They drove around for 15 minutes until
they reached the outskirts of the city, but
Brandon thought it unsafe to rob the pair
so near to town, Miller continued. So they
forced Kupfer to head north. Before long
they were in Linden, opposite the reforma-
tory. All the way, Miller had urged rob-
bing the couple, but Brandon thought it
unsafe. “I told Brandon we were getting
into Rahway and it was now or never,”
declared the prisoner. “He told this Kupfer
guy to stop the car on the turnpike. I
——
thought we was gonna grab this ice, put:
’em outa the car and scram. But Brandon
goes nuts. First thing I know, after we get
the rings and the dough, he plugs the guy
and then the gal. I was scared then, so
I helped him put the guy’s body out. We’d
stayed there too long, so we drove down
the road before getting rid of the dame.”
Advised of Miller’s confession, Brandon
admitted taking part in the crime, but
——
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we'll have them.
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had made it a prac-
with the fingerprint
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ervals.
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pletely.
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fired the gun. I didn’t
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ng for a victim to rob.
t. a black touring car
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1 Janny sat beside him.
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nile I do the same with
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hing. ‘Get going, says
it of town. The twist
slap her cheek and she
ind for 15 minutes until
outskirts of the city, but
it unsafe to rob the pair
filler continued. So they
head north. Before long
en, opposite the reforma-
7, Miller had urged rob-
but Brandon thought it
3randon we were getting
1 it was now or never,
mer. “He told this Kupfer
car on the turnpike.
gonna grab this ice, put:
and scram. But Brandon
hing I know, after we get
, dough, he plugs the guy
|. I was scared then, so
the guy’s body out. We d
long, so we drove down
getting rid of the dame.
iller’s confession, Brandon
part in the crime, but
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accused Miller of firing the fatal shots. The
ballistics evidence, however, showed that
Miller was telling the truth.
The wheels of justice ground rapidly.
Governor Alfred E. Smith of New York
readily granted the petition of the Union
County district attorney that the robbery
sentences of the pair be commuted so they
could be returned to New Jersey to face
the murder charges.
Both were indicted by the Union County
grand jury on charges of first degree mur-
der. At the trial in Elizabeth, before Justice
Charles Bergen and a jury, Miller turned
state’s evidence and testified against his
accomplice.
On October 3, 1920, George Brandon was
convicted of first degree murder and sen-
tenced to die. Miller pleaded guilty to
manslaughter and ‘was sentenced to four
years at hard labor.
Because of appeals and legal delays it
_was almost two years before Brandon was
put to death in the electric chair for the
cold-blooded murders of an unsuspecting
blonde and her boy friend.
Eprror’s Nore: To spare possible em-
barrassment to innocent persons, the
names Jasper Conway and Mary Logan,
used in this story, are not real but ficti-
tious. The name Samuel Miller also is
fictitious, because this man has paid his
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Gallows
(Continued from page 37)
The farmer met them in the yard, carry-
ing a shotgun in the crook of his arm. “I
pec seen anything of the fellow,” Plant
said.
“How’s Mrs. Warden?” McMahon asked.
“Doc Borgen’s with her.”
The officers went inside. The physician
reported that the woman had a bad scalp
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“I didn’t see him,” she moaned. “But I
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the motive for the attack?” ;
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SORE Ei Los oabh anaes dik ese SYS sa + «
as on his
ad it cer-
scientists
n time to
ng trouble
tterly cold
had been
rs. Hunter,
only other
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managed to
he told De-
; thing I can
ho killed my
id manage to
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rent had been
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coroner when
n. I think the
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n page 9)
this knew Old Wash’s heart was on his
right side,” Parker speculated. ‘“‘And that
could mean the murderers are from around
here.”
One thing that helped the detective a lot
was evidence found in snow that had fallen
most of the previous day and right up until
eleven o'clock the night of the crime.
There were several sets of footprints;
and these indicated that the robber mur-
derers had entered the Hunter homestead
from the main highway and that all but
one of them had left the property by that
same route.
One set of footprints went in exactly
the opposite direction. They led directly
out into the open fields.
“Their size and depth tell me that this
one man was on the short side and he
wasn’t heavily built,” Parker said. “And
since they are quite far apart I believe the
man was running as fast as he could. Per-
haps he was more frightened than the
others. That could explain the reason for
him going in the opposite direction.”
Another thing that Parker deduced as
he followed this man’s trail was that he
was unsure of where he was going.
“He came quite close to neighboring
farms,” the detective said, ‘and it’s ob-
vious he didn’t want to do that because
each time he'd turn around and go an-
other way.”
These prints, in the end, stopped at a
point just below a signal tower along the
tracks of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Parker
reasoned that the fugitive hopped a pass-
ing freight at that point. This spot was
not more than a mile from the Hunter
house but the fleeing man had covered at:
least three miles in arriving at it. ,
The watchman at ‘the signal tower said
that he had seen a man near the tracks
around two o'clock on the morning of the
murder. ; :
“It was cold out there,” the signalman
told Parker, “and TI didn’t do anything be-
cause I felt sorry for the poor devil. He
wasn’t even wearing an overcoat.”
The Burlington County detective liked
that last remark best of all because it
meant a great deal to him.
“I believe the man we're looking for
is from New York City,” he said. “It was
a normal March day over there. They
didn’t get the snowstorm we did. Some-
one coming from there would be less likely
to wear an overcoat than somebody from
around here who knew about the bad
weather in these parts.”
Parker checked records at the Penn-
sylvania Railroad next. He learned that’
a train had left Jersey City, just across the
Hudson River from Manhattan, and made
a stop at Riverside at 11:40 p.m. That -
was the nearest train that would have
brought anybody from New York City to
Riverside at the hour of the murder.
“We sold five tickets from Jersey City
to Riverside before that train pulled out,”
the station agent told Parker.
The conductor had turned these in and
they were given to the investigator who
saw at once that the punch mark was in
exactly the same place on four out of five
of them.
“That means the. conductor collected
four of them at the same time and punched
them together,” Parker said. “In other
words, four men were traveling together
from Jersey City to Riverside. ‘The fifth
man was traveling alone. Unless I miss my
guess, there werg four men in on this job.
I feel positive no one or two men could
have handled Old Wash.”
The conductor on the frain identified the
four tickets as ones he had punched. And,
luckily, he remembered the four men he
had taken them from.
“There wasn’t much of a crowd on the
eleven-forty into Riverside,” he told Parker,
“and I noticed those four particularly. I
don’t think any of them had been in this
country very long because they all spoke
with distinct German accents. One of them
was a short, slightly built fellow. He asked
me if | had a pencil and when I gave one
to him he proceeded to make several roug
sketches of the other three. He was good,
too.”
Detective Parker asked the conductor
to try to remember anything else that might
help in the murder investigation. _
“Well,” the railroad man said, “it seemed
mighty strange to me that none of them
were wearing overcoats. I shrugged it off,
however, because I knew there hadn't been
any snow in New York City where they
came from.”
That was all except that the conductor
did furnish Detective Parker with full de-
scriptions of the other three men. One of
_ them appeared to be the type who could
have at one time worked on a farm. And
if that were true, it could have been the ©
Washington Hunter place.
“Somebody knew that Old Wash had
his heart on the right side of his chest,”
Parker concluded, “and somebody knew
about that money in the wall safe. I’m
going to investigate every man who ever
worked for Washington Hunter.”
When this was done Mrs. Hunter re-
called an itinerant worker who came pretty
close to answering the conductor’s descrip-
tion of one of the men.
“That man’s name was Jim Young,”
the widow told Parker. “He used to help
around the house with chores in addition
to his work in the fields. It’s very likely
that he heard one of the doctors from
Princeton University talking about my hus-
band’s heart.”
Parker made a trip to Ellis Island and
also contacted immigration authorities. in
Washington, D. C. giving them full descrip-
tions of the suspected men and asking for
help.
This resulted in a statement that one
Otto Keller, son of the mayor of a promi-
nent German city, had entered the country
recently for the purpose of studying art in
New York City.
Parker went to every art school in Man-
hattan and soon found the one where
young Keller was enrolled. But the youth-
ful German student hadn’t shown up at
class since the day before the Washington
Hunter murder. .
When fellow students were questioned
Parker learned more.
“Otto was a nice fellow,” one acquaint-
ance told Parker, “but he seemed to be
fascinated by shady characters. Perhaps
he'd been too sheltered at home and once
he hit the big town he wanted to see and
do everything. We all thought he could
easily get in trouble keeping company with
criminals; but when we mentioned that
fact to him he told us he could take care
of himsclf.”
Everyone interviewed agreed that Otto
Keller was not the criminal type himself
but that he did consort with: underworld
characters; and few were surprised to learn
that he had gotten himself into hot water.
The art school records furnished De-
tectivé Parker with young Keller’s address;
but a trip there proved futile. He hadn't
shown up since the day before the Wash-
ington Hunter murder.
The landlady did remember that Keller
sometimes frequented a bar on Third Ave-
nue near Eighty-fifth Street.
Parker took up his vigil there and waited.
Nearly a week passed before this bore
fruit. Then young Otto Keller walked in.
Parker didn’t pick him up at once. In-
stead he shadowed the youth.
In due time Keller was geen in the com-
pany of two other characters who an-
swered descriptions furnished by the Penn-
sylvania Railroad conductor.
Parker called the New York Police De-
partment for help and they arrested Otto
Keller and the two others who turned out
to be Jim Young and a safe cracker named
Charles Braun.
The New Jersey sleuth went to work on
Keller first.
“I can tell you every move you made
after that murder,” he said flatly. Then
Parker proceeded to outline each move-
ment so thoroughly that young Keller’s
jaw dropped and he made a full confession.
He said that he had been looking for
excitement and that he had met Young and
Braun and a second safe cracker named
Charlie Mueller in a Yorkville brauhaus.
“This fellow Young was always brag-
ging about his women,” Keller told Parker.
“He said he knew some beauties in New
Jersey and asked me if | wanted to go over
there with himself and some other friends
to meet them. I’ve been pretty much alone
here in New York so I said I'd like that.
But instead of taking me to see pretty
girls I found myself mixed up in a robbery
and murder. I got panic stricken and I
ran away from the others right after they
killed that old man.”
The safe cracker named Charlie Mueller
wasn’t picked up at that time; but the
reason for taking young Keller along on
the robbery was found to be for the pur-
pose of blackmailing him. The other three
knew that the art student received large
allowances from his parents in Germany.
That money was what they were after and
with something on the youth they felt sure
he would fork it over to them.
The art student was the state’s star wit-
ness against Jim Young and Charlie Braun
when they went on trial. Braun was identi-
fied by Mrs. Hunter as the man she had
seen standing over her husband.
The New Jersey jury found Jim Young
and Charlie Braun guilty of murder in the
first degree and sentenced them to die on
the gallows, which they did.
Detective Parker saw to it that Otto
Keller was let off with a light sentence
because it was obvious that he had been
foolhardy in consorting with criminals and
that he had been duped into a situation
that he knew nothing about.
The missing member of the gang—
Charlie Mueller—was never formally ar-
rested and convicted; but fate took care of
him just the same. One night several years
later he started a fight in a Chicago saloon
and his opponent pullied.a gun and put a
bullet through his head.
a
9
American Detective
later, when a sleigh drove
up to the house and two
men came running in to
get me out of bed and tell
me someone had killed
Washington Hunter over
at Riverside.
“Shot?” I asked as I be-
gan to dress,
““No, he was beaten to
death. Hands all cut to
pieces.. Back busted and
stabbed.”
I stopped dressing to
give them a look. “Then
his house was robbed,” I
said. “How much did they
get?”
“About three thousand
dollars. That was a good
guess Ellis, but you’re
wrong about the ‘they.’
There was only one of ’em.
Mrs. Hunter saw him just
going out the door.”
“Then what Mrs. Hun-
ter saw was the last one
of a gang. Look here, you
(Left) Captain Titus who
was in charge of the Cen-
tral Office, New York City
Police Department, at the
time this crime occurred.
(Below) Prison at Mt.
Holly, New Jersey.
be going there for one reason; that would be to rob him.”
I want you to notice that there’s the second unnat-
ural thing in this case—Washington Hunter’s strength.
He was over seventy but he was famous for it. And
right away; when I remembered that one unusual fact,
I could take a step in solving the crime. You see how
it works?
Outside there were still a few flakes of snow falling,
but the blizzard had stopped and it was getting warmer.
When we got to the house I went right in to see Hunter.
He had been killéd in¢his own kitchen but they had
put him on the bed and washed him up some.
“What time was he killed?” I asked.
“About half-past twelve or one.”
I turned to Dean. “Bring along that lantern,” . I
told him, “‘and let’s get started.”
“Aint you going to look over the place?”
“Anything that’s in the house will keep. But it’s
coming on'to thaw outside and if Hunter was killed
as late as that, the murderers probably’ left some foot-
prints in the snow, and they aren’t going to stay.
Unless I miss my guess the blizzard stopped about the
right time.”
There was a whole tangle of footprints in the drive
and down the roads and around the doors of the house.
The neighbors who had come for me had mixed things
up so much I couldn’t tell what had been going on,
but I ploughed through the snow to a point about a
hundred yards out and started to swing a circle around
the house. At the back there was a gully with a few
_ trees init, and the lantern showed a line of footprints
leading away from the house.
“There you are,” said Dean.
“That’s one of the murderers, too,” I told him. “See,
know Washington Hunter
as well as I do. He is—was
the strongest man in Bur-
lington County. I’ve seen
him crush a raw potato to a
fine pulp in his fingers and
so have you, and he could
knock down a horse with one
blow of his fist. It stands to’
reason, does# sit, that one
man couldn’t peat him to
death?”
“Seems likely. But what
makes you say they must
have been after Hunter’s
money, Ellis?”
“Why, look here, Wash-
ington Hunter was a Quaker
and never took a drink him-
self or got into a quarrel. If
a gang of fellows went to
his house, they would only
he’s running a
the prints of
snow. And he’
of his stride.”
“But you s
“Yes,” I a
about that. It
come up to th
because there
leading away,
ing up to the
he came by th
where he was
he runs away
gully, way off
though he did
We had bec
as I spoke. “B
sense,” protest
The tracks
ward, cutting
approached t}
see where the
up, too. “I kn
explanation t)
what I think.
they had son
Washington |}
house, but w!
old man, they
down the roa
know the coi
five bundred
trees, but he
We followe
or five miles,
man we were
slow work, b
he followed a
cut off across
did chance o1
Atco, where
and pretty so
side of the r
I went up |
and told him
by that time.
“Did you s
I asked.
“Seems to
said. “Kind
overcoat. Pro
“What tra
“Well, att
for Camden;
load of emp:
three-seven.”’
That settle
have hopped
for him to h
BROWN, Charles hanved Mt. Holly, NJ December 3,
Mt. Holly March 18, 1902.
Ellis Parker, America’s greatest living detective, who
tells this amazing true-life murder story for the readers
of American Detective.
American Detective pre-
sents another great detective
case from the files of America’s
most celebrated detective.
Here is the unusual circum-
stance of a man with his
heart on the right side—and
a murderer who knew it!
20 a ey
A a
Bet ox zay
AMERICAN DET:
Sherlock
Holmes
| es PaRKER opened the door into
the office where his assistant was
smoking a cigarette, lit a cigar him-
self, and called out:
“Clint, come in here a minute. Sit down,
you're going to learn something. I want you
to listen to this, it may come in handy for
you to remember it some time.”
He turned round and sat down in the
creaking swivel.chair that has served him
_ through most of his forty-two years as Bur-
lington County detective.
“Never forget this, Clint. The thing you
want to look for in every case is something
unnatural. There isn’t any perfect crime because there
isn’t any fool-proof lie. Every lie contains some unnat-
ural detail. Now take that case of Mrs. Giberson who
murdered her husband. She had her story all fixed up
about the two burglars who broke into the house, and
it was a good one, but she said that when she heard
something in the house she got out of bed and went to
see what it was. You remember I asked her whether her
husband was sleeping next to the wall and she said no,
she was. Well, right there’ there were two unnatural
things; it was unnatural for her to go herself instead
of waking up her husband, and it was unnatural if she
could get out of that bed from behind him without
waking him up, and it was on those two slips that she
was finally convicted.”
“But chief,” protested the younger detective, “how
about that Hunter case? It seems to me that it was all
ECTIVE,
February, 1935
1901 & YOUNG, John, hanged gt
Fl
unnatural, \
like that?”
Ellis Parke:
wreathed his
into a smile t!
bered Santa C
... Well, r
many unusua
it so hard to :
one of the bes
have to lear:
things, if you
you don’t un
explain.
I'll always:
hours before
thing of all. }
attention had
new at this b
for about nin
I remembe:
spring of 190
Roosevelt bec
in March, an
snowstorm. T
I took my tir
and sat dow:
nine o’clock 1
it up; and the
piece up the
“Evening,
joor into
tant was
igar him-
Sit down,
want you
randy for
vn in the
srved him
irs as Bur-
thing you
something
ause there
ne unnat-
erson who
| fixed up
iousé, and
she heard
id went to
hether her
ne said no,
unnatural
elf instead
cural if she
nm without
ps that she
tive, “how
t it was all
| Left-side
ee ce.
of the
MAN
By
Fletcher Pratt
unnatural. What do you do in a case
like that?”
Ellis Parker emitted a puff of smoke that
wreathed his head, and his face expanded
into a smile that made him resemble a bar-
bered Santa Claus.
... Well, now that case did have a good
many unusual features. That’s what made
it so hard to solve, and why'I think it was
one of the best cases I ever handled. But you
have to learn how to use the unnatural
things, if you know what I mean. Maybe
you don’t understand, but you will when I
explain.
[’ll always remember that as the case that started four
hours before the crime, and with the most unnatural
thing of all. I might not have noticed it at that if my
attention hadn’t been called to it. You see, I was pretty
new at this business then. I had oply been a detective
for about nine years. ,
I remember the night very well. It was in the early
spring of 1901, the year McKinley was shot and Teddy
Roosevelt became President of the United States. It was
in March, and I remember walking home through a
snowstorm. There hadn’t been much doing that day, so
I took my time about dinner, and then lighted a pipe
and sat down to catch up on my reading. At about
nine o’clock there was a knock on my door. I opened
it up; and there was a friend of mine who lived quite a
piece up the road.
“Evening, Ellis,” he said, “Just stopped in a minute
An old-time photograph of Charles Mueller. How did Detective
Parker tie in his activities with this daring robbery and murder?
to thaw out on my way home.”
He made regular trips to New York. “About four or
five inches of snow we've got now,” I said, as he sat
down. “Are they catching it like this up in New York,
too?”
“You know, that’s a funny thing, Ellis,” he said,
“When I left New York about half past six there wasn’t
a sign of snow. The sun’s been shining all day and warm
as you please—regular spring weather. I didn’t begin to
hit snow till I got this side of Trenton.”
We talked for a couple of minutes and then he went
along. What I want you to notice is that we usually
have the same kind of weather as New York, and that
we should have a blizzard while they had it warm was
unnatural. And right in that fact lay the key of the
mystery—only there wasn’t any mystery yet!
I didn’t know about the crime till four or five hours
21
| Court. ef Pardons, and
arg
4 end earnestly that as. the
‘wae one of
wee.
annale of
pers | tective duty”
Haborlat Cass Gro fe modus 4,
OE ah Tin man
ape -
i the
ei
‘New
Gher
it
Bifvice hie arrest for murier he has
been known as James K, Rrown. Re-
fore his arreet he was known to the
John
During the ten years previ-
ows to the shooting of Gebhardt.
Brown served three terms tm @tate
to | Prison, New York, and completed his |
last term of three years only aiz
Re the before the shooting,
‘The crime fer which Brown pald the
Amany ‘upon the seaffold was one of
the mom) wantog in the annale of the
cpuety. In @aytignt, white on-
deavoring to ‘Policeman
Gedharnit, he rately. fred two
Ghote at the brave guardian of the
peace. The firm ahot wae fatal, strit-
ing Gebhard(_ in the abdomen and in-
fitcling a wound frem which Gebhardt
Rewcomer
Pai
3732
4
Ss
t
5 3
i
u
ty
— Washington Dec.
. Brewn wee again eentenced to
be hanged. The Court fized the same
Gate eet the day before for. Ciifford’e
hanging in order to dispore of both
cases at once, ees ee
Congreseman W. 1D. Daly; ae a last
resort, Drucght the case herore the
Court ef réons, and atgued lone
and earnestly that aa the crime wae
committed tw the heat of blood there
wan no premeditation and that”
Rrown'e sentence showld be commut:
ed to ife impriconment. . ;
ELEVEN HANGINGS HERE.
All But Three of the Murderers Had
Killed Women. ..-
Rrowa-@as the eleventh murderer
a
mM and Jan.
city offictals have had
to contend with Ia thetr
|
z
3
83
stetysttetai
eae
