Illinois, S-T, 1933-1951, Undated

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bl, elec. Cook Co., IL February 26, 19

Canales

The jungles, inhabited by

hoboes, thieves and. assas-

sins, are worse than those of ces

Africa. Chicage’s officers _

become big game hunters
of the American jungles

Siete eens

\“

~
hes

passers-
traffic in:

August 15:

“Yes, gents,

been a world
‘the young won

. attire, and standi:

AMERICAN DETECTIVE, March, 1937

By Joseph M. Fay
and featuring”
Lieutenant Otto Erlanson

of the Chicago, Illinois”

- Police Department

TEP inside,

gents!

View a
ca . Bee, chorus of

— six youthful and peppy beau-

ties. /They’ll dance with complete

abandon the world famous oriental veil
number.” :
‘Outside a dingy South State Street burlesque
theater, .a_ leather-lunged barker-.-harangued
passers-by, his voice rising above the clatter of

traffic in the busy street. It was Saturday afternoon,

~ - August 15th, 1936,
“Yes, gents,” he continued, “this is the dance that has
_ been a_world-wide sensation. It ends, gentlemen, with
the young women discarding almost: every article of their
_ attire, and standing before you in the breath-taking loveli-

ness of nudity.”

Ragged men, both negroes and whites, halted on the
sidewalk to listen to the showman’s spiel. The run-down
section of State Street, near Harrison Street, Chicago, locale
of this scene, is known in hoboes’ jungles the world over as
the Windy City’s “Main Stem.”

“Get a ticket for a dime,” the barker invited, “and see
this sensational, breath-taking, beautiful. . . .”

Inside the theater, in an atmosphere that reeked like the
forecastle of an ice-bound whaling ship, crowded rows of
men had eyes ‘fixed on a half dozen scantily-clad dancers.
The_women listlessly pranced on the small stage, stripping
off bits of their attire to the tune of vigorous applause, as
the tempo of the music increased.

Members of the audience, composed largely of the city’s

“driftwood, watched avidly as a slim blonde sang a risqué

‘song. Her only articles of attire were close-fitting tights
and a sequin-studded. brassiere.
One of the audience, lust overpowering all sense of right

SWAIN, Rufo, bl,

n
1%

electrocuted Cook Co. IL Feb. 26, 1937

n the CRI ME SPOTLIGHT

a Psa‘

*
T

The hanging of Rainey Bethea, rapist, showing a portion of the crowd of 20,000 who came at dawn to watch the doomed man plunge to his death

LADYS MacKNIGHT, 17, of
Bayonne, New Jersey, had the
sinister distinction of being the
nonth’s most cold-blooded, brutal
killer. She chopped her mother to
ieath with a hatchet in the kitchen of

their home, while her boy friend,
Donald Wightman, 18, held the 47-
year-old woman. Puffing on a ciga-
rette, Gladys confessed she had been
sore at her mother for trying to keep
her out of beer saloons. But imme-
di motive was Mrs. MacKnight’s

isal to serve an early supper. With
the body weltering on the floor, the
two made sandwiches for themselves
before they fled!

he morning of August 11, Neda
‘aka, 22, Japanese actress, ran scream-
ing from her Los Angeles home, a
gash in her throat. She fell dead on
the lawn. Police sought two Amer-
an men, believed to be involved in

riangle love affair with the pretty

Jriental.

Chicago shuddered over its fourth
1otel murder of a woman in three
nonths. Mary Louise Trammell, 24,

is found by her husband when he
ame home from work, lying strangled,

ped and dead. Her body was nude.
Rufo Swain, gorilla-like Negro, 27,
used of this outrage, was questioned

murdered in
Chicago

Louise Trammell,

her hotel room _ in

Latest Sensations in the Crime Whirl and
What the Law Is Doing About Them

also. about the similar slayings of were committed, Singer said, because
Mrs. Lillian D. Guild in May, Mrs. he feared the husband was about to
Florence T. Castle in June and Miss ,discover his relations with Mrs.
Audrey Vallette in July. However, { Wesley.

Thomas Starr, another Negro, has Sheriff Joseph Ring, of Vicksburg,
been convicted in the Guild case. - Mississippi, probably will think twice

Still another bedroom horror was_ hereafter before he tries to reform sex
staged in Pueblo, Colorado. Dorothy _ sinners. Louis Mize, 24, told the

sheriff that Mrs. Mize was misbehaving
in Vicksburg National Military Park

Drain, 16, and her sister Barbara, 14,
were discovered terribly beaten and

gashed with an ax. The elder girl with Martin W. Decelle, 35, a bakery
had been sexually assaulted, then superintendent. Ring accompanied
murdered. The younger, evidently the husband to the spot and gave De-
chopped down to close her mouth, celle “some advice for the future.’
survived cruel wounds. An altercation followed. Mize fen

“T want you to get rid of that baby. a gun, shot Decelle dead and was aim-

Japanese actress
Neda Taka whose
throat was
slashed fatally in
“a triangle love Jessie Hankey
affair who killed the
infant of the man
she worked for
“because he told
me to”
If you don’t, I'll get fou. Feed it ing at his wife when he was over-
poison,” Kenneth Wagner, of Arnold, powered.
Pennsylvania, told his housemaid, Thwarted abnormal lust is thought

Mrs. Jessie Hankey, 25. Or that’s her to lie behind the shooting of Clara

story. Both are charged with the Gaerbrandt, 16, by her foster-father,
murder of Wagner’s 14-day-old girl Norman Gaerbrandt, 36, suicide. The
infant. Police absolved the mother of man forbade her to have friends or
blame. amusements. She fled to the house of

In Wabash, Indiana, Harry E. Sing- a neighbor at Vail Gate, New York.
er, 25, pleaded guilty to killing Mrs. Gaerbrandt trailed her with a shot-

Viola Wesley, 36, her husband John gun and butcher-knife, took her life
and their young daughter, and burying and then his own.
them in a single grave. The crimes Trial of Mrs. L. W. Vann in Milton,

few al )) coe
: Oat /S, 1 ISE

Florida, had unique features Tne
40-year-old woman, a_ grand ther,
was charged with hiring two men to
wreck a train piloted by her engineer-

husband, aged 70. Object, murde
the sake of insurance money
freedom to go to a lover. Venn sat
beside his wife in court and pro-
claimed belief in her innocence.
The jury found her guilty.

The night of August

23, Mrs. Eliza-
beth Tapperbaum, 29, j rical,
bleeding, her clothing ripped ti reds
halted a cop in Brook lyn, Ne York,
and made the most shocking complaint

he ever heard. Mrs. Tapperb:

been kidnaped scarcely three hours

before, taken to a parking and

sexually abused by 18 hoodlum F

of the latter were promptly ’

up by the police: 13 are sought
Florence Thompson, Ke:

woman sheriff, decided at the
ment to have a deputy spring

for the hanging of Rainey Bethe:
Negro rapist, at Owensboro :

we go to press, Martin Moore lored
bell-hop, was convictec 1 at s e
North Carolina, of 1e@ mu

Helen Clevenger.

Gladys Mac:
Knight ana
Donatd
Wightman

These are the

two who con-

fessed to slaying

her mother with
a hatchet

Doe

zor, on Swain's neck. Swain admitted he had tried to burglarize Miss Vekger's room, The
notebook and laundry ticket were turned over to detectives by William Schumacher, a guest
in thehotel where the trammells livéd, who found them on a fire escape after he ‘had been
frichtened away a negro peering into his room, The name 'James Gray’ an alias used by
Swain, was found in the book and the search for him was started. ‘Swain told:police on his
surrender today that the notebook and laundry ticket had been stolen from him early this
month while he slept in Grant Park, Officers léarned, however, that*the laundry ticket was
- not issued until last week, and pointed this out as an important discrepancy inthe negro's
_ story. ointed out by’Miss Velger tonight, Swain was quoted by Capt, Gilbert as saying: 'I
might as well tell you about it. I wanted Money Saturday night. I was tired of sleeping
_ out, so I‘climbed up the fire escape of the hotel and went into the first room where I saw
a light burnine. +he woman was standing in a corner, She didn't have many clothes on,
but that did not bother me, I only wanted money, She said to me, "that do you want here?
What are’ you going to do?" I walked’up to her and told her to give me some money, I saw
she wasgoing to scream, and I grabbed her around the neck and choked her. I didn't have
much trouble and Pr esve soon shé stopped kicking, I threw her across the béd and just to
_ make sure she wasn't fooling I pickedup the water pitcher and hit her on the head, I
couldn't find any money so.I went down the, fire‘escape’ and ran awaye' Swain insisted he
sought only money. e declared he did not criminally assault Mrs, Tramell; Officers
took him vo the hotel to re-enact his movements, Swain said he was a native of Clay, La.,
attended high schod1l at Little Rock and a college there for two yéars, He said he had played
football and was a high jumper on the track squads at both schools. Commenting on Swain's
surrender when police had been unable to find him, Asst. State's Attorney’ Morris Meyers
said: 'He had a little edtication and he thought he was smart enough to brazen this out, He
probably believed his surrender would persuade us he was innocent, and he probably also
considered that he couldn't have avoided’arrest long without money, “he man was sulky and
arrogant when we wouldn't believe his story, He thought he had enough intelligence to get
away with a stunt like this,',..Police files showed Swain was, charged with a sex crime in
May, 1935, when he was found on a fire escape outside a woman's room in another hotel, but
the charge was dropped when the woman declined to prosecute because of possible publicity.
His record also showed a 30-day sentence for a motoring accident in which he wrecked an
qutomobile he was driving without the Ouper. s consent, Injuries in this accident accounted
for the scar on his neck, Mrs, Tranmméll s body was’ started back today to Knoxville for
burial," TIMES-PICAYUNS, New Orleans, La., August 18, 193% (1/1.)

",eehufo Swain, 27-year-old scar-faced atheltic ee SA ae i New Orlenns, Laey
8/20/19 3% (9=5.) ;

8 Master

contents—a lipstick, a small
white handkerchief crushed by a
heavy foot, a powder puit.
Thomas Trammell, staring down
at them with Shera | eyes ,
turned to Lieutenant McCarthy.

“Why—why should this hap-
pen to her? [| told her a hun-
dred times to be careful, to keep
the window locked or to put a
chair in front of it so that if
anyone tried to come in he’d
make enough noise to—to give
her a chance to yell for help.”

“Sounds as if you expected
trouble.”

“Well, not exactly, but these
other hotel lust murders that
we've had in Chicago had me
scared,”

(Trammell referred to the
cases of Mrs. Lillian Guild and
Mrs. Florence Thompson Castle,
who were murdered in Chicago
under similar circumstances.)

The police officer nodded.

“And, say, Lieutenant,”
Trammell pleaded, “would you
mind if I leave the room, I—
well, I can’t stand being close to
that bed much longer.” His voice ,
broke and McCarthy patted his
shoulder. ‘Sure,’ the officer
said. ‘Wait out in the hall un-
til the Homicide Squad gets
here. We'll want you and Bon
to go down to the station and
make out a report.”

Trammell, biting his lips,
walked slowly into the corridor.
This had been a bitter homecoming, a stunning’ finale to a
man who, at forty, had found love for the first time in his
life and who had been building, waiting, all these months.
And for what? he mused—for death, for a murder. He
went down toward the lobby, shaking his head like a fighter
dazed by a punch, just as members of the Homicide Squad
and other experts arrived to launch the investigation.

In the group were several men who have solved man
of Chicago’s most sensational crimes—Lieutenant Otto Erl-
anson, veteran chief of the Homicide Detail; Doctor Mat-
thew Kiley, coroner’s physician; Sergeant John Donohue,
finger-print expert; Captain Dan Gilbert, chief investigator
for State’s Attorney Thomas J. Courtney; Sergeant Peter
Bernacchi and others.

They crowded into Mary Trammell’s room, closed the
door and went to work. Doctor Kiley, examining the body
with a practised touch, looked up at Lieutenant Erlanson
with a foi

“Somebody did a nasty job, all right,” he said. “Her
head’s crushed like an eggshell.”

“Certainly looks like it, Doc. How long has she been
dead?P”

Doctor Kiley pursed his lips.

“About twelve hours, I should say.”

“Was she assaulted?”

“It looks like it,’ Doctor Kiley answered. “Couldn’t say
for certain, however, until we can do an autopsy.”

“All right. I guess you can take the body away now.”

A few minutes later, after Mary Trammell’s body had
been lifted from the bed and taken to the morgue, the in-
vestigators began a thorough examination of the room,
making measurements, taking pictures, and photographing
finger-prints.

“Find anything?” Erlanson asked Donohue.

“Yes, there are a lot of prints around. The clearest are
at the head of the bed and on the shiny surface of the purse.
‘There are some more op that water.pitcher over there.”

“Yes, | was looking at that pitcher,’ Erlanson said specu-
latively. ‘‘It could have been used as a weapon—you could
break a woman’s skull with that bottom edge.”

“But there’s no blood on it,” Captain Gilbert broke in.

Detective

Sergeant Peter Bernacchi (left), who nabbed the killer, confers with
Sergeant James Colman, co-author. The latter played a leading réle in

the investigation

“No—but she had thick hair, and if she was hit only
once the blood wouldn’t have come through to the pitcher.”
Donohue went on with his work and then, when he and
other technicians had finished, Erlanson and Gilbert began
the task of questioning other guests and employees of the
hotel. Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Barry, members of a’ theat-
, Tical troupe, who occupied: a room! adjoining Mrs, Tram-
mell’s, told the officers that they were asleep when the crime
was committed.

“Didn’t you hear anything?” Erlanson asked. “A scuffle
or a scream?”

“Not a thing, Lieutenant,” Barry replied. “Perhaps she
didn’t have time to scream.”

“Yes, that’s possible,” the detective admitted.

With the help of the management, the investigators next
traced the movements of all the employees. All were ac-
counted for—except one man—Arthur Pickney, night eleva-
tor operator. Erlanson, sending officers to this man’s home
at 216 East 3lst Street, discovered that Pickney had not
been home at all—though he had finished his work some ten
hours before!

“G° out there again,” Erlanson instructed his. men, “and

wait until he comes back. Bring him to Headquarters.
I want to know where he spent those ten hours and why he
didn’t come home.”

Trammell told his story to Deputy Coroner Eugene In-
gles, and at the Central Station, he repeated it to Captain
George O’Connor. He was no longer the gay, impatient
man who hurried home from the station, and he seemed to
have aged ten years in those few poignant hours since that
first shocking moment when he peered over the transom.
But he told us his story willingly, desperately anxious to
provide any information that might help us capture the
monster who murdered his pretty young wife.

“I was working as a concessionaire near the TVA pro-
ject at Knoxville when I met Mary,” he began. “I—I guess
it was love at first sight ahd we were married a month
after our first oeting. My luck turned suddenly and |
lost my job. Months later, in Chicago, | went to work for
the Grand Trunk Railway, and Mary came up to join me.

e edge of
d; better
ing wife,

neymoon
when he
triage to
er in life.
1s turned

tk.
tay home
u do, Vl

. Thomas

mth, and
ad prom-
; wonder-
iad taken
and op-
veeks.
n district
running
and soon
‘et, where
id bought

dow
orn-

—— SS i RO ee ee re

The Nude Girl

Thomas Trammell (left), whose dream of happiness was shattered by his wife’s
murder, ‘tells his tragic story to Deputy Coroner Ingles

a box of candy, which he carried as he walked jauntily into
the ge

John W. Bon, the desk clerk, greeted him.

“Hello, Mr. Trammell. Glad to see you back.”

“Hello, John. Is my wife in?”

Bon glanced over his shoulder at a row of boxes.

“I guess so, Mr. Trammell, the key’s not in the box.”

“All right, thanks.”

Trammell went up to the second floor, walked down the
hall until he saw the familiar number “250” and knocked
expectantly. No answering voice came from the room and
Trammell tried the knob. The door was locked. A little
impatient, he dropped the candy and his suitcase and lifted
himself until he could peer through the half-open transom.

Trammell stared into the room for a moment, saw some-
thing that froze his heart and brought an involuntary cry
of fear to his lips. He dropped to the floor, wide-eyed and
shaken, and ran down to the lobby to Bon.

“John!” he gasped. “Something’s wrong in my room. I
can’t get in! My wife’s in there—on the bed—but she
doesn’t look natural. She—she wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Maybe she’s asleep,” Bon suggested, trying to calm
Trammell.

‘in Room 250! 1

“No, no! She’d have
heard me. Get a pass .
key and let me in!”

Bon sgid no more.
He took down a ring of
keys and led the way
to the room. He tried
to unlock the door, but
saw that the room key
was in the lock on
the inside. Following
Trammell’s ig te he
lifted himself, looked
inside the room, and .
saw a figure sprawled
grotesquely on the bed.

“Break the: door
down!” Trammell urged.

“Wait a minute, I’ve
got a better idea. You
Bae 4 here.” ;

on let himself into
an adjoining room,
climbed out to the fire
escape, and walked
across to. 250. The
window was open and
Bon, with his heart
pounding, slid over the
sill and, averting his
eyes from the bed, ad-
mitted Trammell. And
then, standing trans-
fixed with horror, the
two men realized that
Mary Trammell would
never speak again. An
appalling thing had
been done in this room.

Trammell, ashen-
faced, turned away in
a daze.

“I’m going out—in
ing Beton: _
y. “Call the ice—
will you, ohn?

Bon nodded slowly in

awe.

“Vl call them.”

He went down to the
lobby, muttering ‘““Mur-
der” under his breath,
and called the Central
Police Station, which
occupies the first floor
in Police Headquarters
building at 1121 South
State Street, half a
mile away. Five minutes later, heralded by sirens, a squad
of officers under Lieutenant James McCarthy reached the
hotel and went directly to the room of death.

They could not touch the body until members of the
Homicide Squad arrived.

But they could see, without disturbing the stiffening
figure, what death had wrought on a young and attractive
woman who had not yet passed her twenty-fifth birthday.
Mary Trammell’s body was stretched out nude on the
sheets of the bed, and her dark hair, which had a titian
glint in the an of the setting sun, was rumpled and clot~
ted with blood.

U needed no medical expert to determine the cause of
death. There was a vivid, three-inch wound just below
the hair line on the left temple; a ghastly hole made with
great force. Both of the girl's lovely blue eyes were ringed
with deep purple, and her throat bore dark blue finger
marks. Blood was everywhere; on Mrs. Trammell’s body;
on the sheets and pillows; on the carpeted floor.

Mary rraramell's glossy white leather purse was on a
near-by chair,—open.

Below, scattered in confusion on the floor, were the

it only
itcher.””
he and

began
of the
theat-
Tram-
* crime

scuffle

ips she

rs next
ere ac-
eleva-
s home
ad not
me ten

1, “and
larters.
why he

one In-
‘aptain
patient
med to
ce that
ansom.
ious to
ire the

A pro-
{ guess
month
and |
ork for
in me.

The Nude Girl

I—we didn’t expect to live in the hotel very long. I was
just trying a on my feet again.”

“How was Mrs. Trammell when you left her?”

“Oh, she was quite happy.”

“Do you have any friends in Chicago?”

“No, Captain—we don’t know a soul.”

“Did your wife have much money with her?”

Trammell shook his head wistfully.

“No, neither of us ever had very much. She had a little,
but that was taken out of her purse.”

Captain O’Connor nodded t oughtfully.

“I see. By the way, Mr. Trammell,” he said off-handedly,
“you hadn’t quarreled with your wife recently, had you?”

“No, we didn’t have time for that. I wasn’t with her
very much,”

“All right, Mr. Trammell, thanks. You can go now and
we'll get in touch with you later.”

That evening, with all of us working on the riddle and
considering every acd ge we saw three likely motives
for the crime—robbery, sex, or some personal reason, such
as jealousy, which directly involved Mar Trammell. The
first was the most likely, since her purse had been rifled, al-
though that could have been an act to divert us from the
real trail. The second motive was also logical, considering
the type of murder with which we dealt. We could not be
sure of the third until we knew more of Mrs. Trammell’s
private affairs.

“Do you suppose the killer was someone Mrs. Trammell
knew?” Erlanson suggested. “Someone she admitted to her

Mrs. Florence Thompson Castle, victim of a pas-

sion murder, similar in circumstance to that of

Mrs. Trammell, which was believed by authorities
to be linked to the latter crime

in Room 250! 9

“Perhaps,” I said. “But the room was locked on the in-

side.”

“Well,” Erlanson pointed out, “the murderer could have
used the window to throw us off the track.” >

We were discussing various points in the case when word
came that Arthur Pickney had come home and was being
brought to Headquarters under guard. The elevator opera-
tor was bewildered at the turn of events and bitterly pro-
tested his arrest.

“So help me, Lieutenant,” he said to Erlanson, “1 don’t
know a thing about this!”

“Where were you during the ten hours before you went
home?” Erlanson asked brusquely.

“Why—I went off duty at seven o'clock this sae hap
hung around the hotel for awhile, went to a burlesque show,
and then walked over to Grant Park. Later | watched a
couple of sandlot ball games and then went home, where
the police were waiting for me.”

Erlanson eyed the man narrowly.

“f see, By the way, did you hear anything last night,
any unusual sound?”

bickney’s face was expressionless.

“Not a sound, Lieutenant. If anybody had yelled, |
would have heard it.”

E RLANSON said nothing more. The interview was
ended, and Pickney, despite his pleas, was locked in a
-ell until we were sure he was not involved. I felt instinc-
tively that Pickney was telling the truth, but we are all
subject to error and there was no other course but to keep.
him in custody for the time being.

Meanwhile, not being familiar with the scene of the crime,
| went down to the State Hotel and was admitted to the
little room where, not many hours before, Mary Trammell
had met violent death. { realized at once that anyone
could have stood beneath the fire escape without being seen
in the poorly lighted alley.

Just beyond the fire escape, almost on a level with, the
second floor of the hotel, is a track of the Chicago Rapid
Transit elevated railway. This track, | knew, connects with
the main line half a block southward. It is used only dur-
ing rush hours. Through the day and most of the night the
track is not used, and a little station, a stone’s throw from
the hotel, remains closed. The killer, | reasoned, could have
climbed the elevated structure and walked along the tracks
to the rear of the hotel. It was only a short jump from the
elevated to the fire escape—for a strong, agile man.

By this time | was almost convinced that the murderer
Was:

1. Young and athletic.
2. Probably unemployed.
3, A man with a criminal record.

It wasn’t much to work on, but I had a hunch this killer,
if he had not already fled from the city, might be found
among the drifters in Grant Park. There, day and night,
the outcasts gather; men who have done time, men with
shadows on their past, floaters, hobos, all those nameless,
battered human beings who live on the sordid rim_of life.
It was there, in Grant Park, that detectives caught Thomas
Starr, the negro who slew Mrs. Lillian Guild. Perhaps, in
that sodden, disreputable cluster of men, there was now an-
other slayer, another monster with a twisted brain.

We could only try.

Sixteen hours after Mary Trammell was found dead, the
men on the Homicide Squad knew no more about this ap-
palling crime than they did when they first saw her battered
body in the little hotel room; and they had spent a weary
night going over all the available information.

So far the finger-prints yielded nothing. A secret inves-
tigation of Pickney’s record had brought out no facts not
already known, and Trammell himself was unable to offer
any suggestion. Finally, while Lieutenant Erlanson was
studying the next move, we got our first break!

Detectives John Lindstrom and John McMahon of the
Central Station, making their usual rounds in a squad car,
were slowly touring the Loop early on the morning of
August 17th. It was already quite warm, with the pave-
ments steaming under the hot summer sun; and Lindstrom,
wiping his brow, was mechanically (Continued on page 74)

dark-haired man who blinked bewildered
eyes into the torch’s glare was not the
young man of the photograph.

There was a moment's fateful pause as
the intruder’s wild gaze darted swiftly
about the room for a means of escape.
_“Who are you?” demanded the detec-
tive.

The man_ backed away. Steinhausl
grabbed him by the arm, repeating, ‘““Who
are your”

The only answer was a low muttering
which the detective could not make out.
Steinhausl pushed him roughly into a
chair and stood in front of him. From
the descriptions, he knew this.man must
be Kronus. Leaning over, he whispered
softly; “Kronus, why did you kill her?”

As if he hadn’t-heard the question the
man went on muttering to himself. Stein-

Master Detective

hausl repeated the question, holding the
glittering eyes before him with the power
of his own. Suddenly the man pointed.

“She was there!” he cried. His words
sounded startlingly shrill. Then, as Stein-
hausl repeated his query once more, the
man shook himself irritably and wailed,
“Let me alone! | had nothing to do with
it!”

“Not until you tell me the truth.” The
insistent tone in the detective’s voice made
the man before him sink back further into
the chair.

Then suddenly he burst into speech.
eee I’m Kronus; I couldn’t live without

er.

“Yes, yes,” urged Steinhausl as the man
paused,

“I needed her, but she wouldn’t stay
with me. Then the other day | found

Spit ie i aaa

she had a new lover, a handsome man in
the customs service. She wouldn't tell
me his name. I brooded over it. Last
night | couldn’t stand it any longer; |
came to try to take her back. But she
eer me from the house. Then | shot
er.

“IT meant to kill myself, too, but I left
the gun here by mistake. That was why
I came again tonight. [| didn’t think
anyone had discovered the murder yet.”

Within an hour Johann Kronus had
signed a full confession. His finger-prints
matched those on the gun and door.

The handsome young customs official of
the photograph and the divorced husband
of the slain girl were both exonerated
from any part in the crime. Kronus was
tried, convicted and sentenced to twenty
years at hard labor.

The Nude Girl in Room 250!

scrutinizing the face of every pedestrian
strolling along the walks.

Suddeily, Just after the police car
turned into South Wabash Avenue, Lind-
strom spoke to his partner.

“Hey, John, pull up to the curb.”

“What's the matter?” McMahon asked.

“Look!” Lindstrom pointed as they
slowed down. ‘“‘There’s a girl over there
waving her arms at us. She’s excited about
something.”

McMahon stopped the machine just as
the girl, clutching a newspaper, came run-
ning toward them with flushed cheeks and
suppressed agitation in her eyes.

“l’ve just read about the murder!” she
said breathlessly. “Please take me to the
officer in charge . . . I’ve got something
terribly important to tell him!”

“All right,” Lindstrom said coolly.
“Jump in.”

THE two detectives drove directly to
Headquarters and took the young wo-
man to Deuces office. Here she identi-
fied herself as Miss Frances Veiger, a tele-
phone operator, living in the Lorraine
Hotel at 41! South Wabash Avenue,

“| didn’t want to say anything about
this before,” she began, “but now that a
murder has been committed I feel it’s my
duty to help if I can.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Lieutenant Erl-
anson said kindly, “we'll keep it in confi-
dence.” ‘

Miss Veiger smiled.

“Thank you. Well, a few nights ago
a man tried to get into my room from
the fire escape, and |...”

“The fire escape?” Erlanson interrupted
eagerly. ;

“Yes—he must have climbed up from
the street. He had a terrible face, with
thick lips and close-cropped hair. I'll
never forget his eyes, even though | saw
the face only for a moment.”

She related what happened when she
screamed for help, and described the crow-
bar the phantom visitor left behind on
the fire escape.

“A crowbar, eh? Have you still got it?”

“Oh, yes, | can bring it down if you

“Thanks,” the detective said crisply.

“But if you don’t mind, I’ll send for it’

now.” The girl nodded, and Erlanson
summoned an officer to whom he gave in-
structions where to get the crowbar. Then
he resumed his conversation with Miss
Veiger, jottimg down every detail of her
story. he girl was fairly «certain the
mysterious intruder was a negro, or of
some other dark-skinned race. She had
seen only his face, and it had borne a livid
scar.

(Continued from page 9)

“I’m much obliged to you, Miss Veiger,”
Erlanson said when the interview ended.
“We'll send for you if anything develops.”

That afternoon, after examining the
crowbar and reviewing the girl’s report,
Erlanson and Captain Gilbert felt they
were making definite progress. They
could only guess that the negro who had
tried to get into her room was the same
man who murdered Mary Trammell,
but they had already learned that the iron
bar was a type used principally by build-
ing wreckers and that many negroes were
employed on such jobs, particularly in
that vicinity.

Erlanson, losing no time, decided on
two moves—first, to check every wrecking
company on the South Side in an effort
to trace the crowbar; second—to throw
out a dragnet and round up every negro
with a record known to the police.

It would be a tremendous task; it might
end in disappointment.

But a murder had been done, and these
steps were only a part of the amazing but
monotonous routine undertaken by detec-
tives in every crime of this kind. Frances
Veiger, with her sketchy but vital story,
had set in motion a far-flung machine
of justice. Now, looking back, I realize
that she provided the key for the breath-
taking climax that was “just around the
corner” in this real-life horror.

Captain Gilbert, working out a plan
with Lieutenant Erlanson, was struck with
a sudden inspiration.

“Otto, this Veiger girl didn’t report
what had happened to her,” he said.

“No, she didn’t want publicity.”

“Exactly!” Captain Gilbert said. “And
if she didn’t want to report the prowler
there may be—”

“Others in the same boat,” Erlanson in-
terrupted to finish the sentence. Captain
Gilbert nodded. “Well, there’s only one
way to find out,” the veteran homicide ex-
pert continued, “and that’s to question the
clerks at every hotel in this district. And
what’s more, I’m going to do it—right
now!”

That. night, sweeping through the col-

ored district with grim efficiency, squads -

of detectives and pepunen began round-
ing up negroes whose names and. photo-
graphs were stored away on record cards
at Headquarters. They marched into pool-
rooms; they broke up groups of men
whose sullen brown faces glistened under
corner street lamps; they tramped into
cafés and cabarets, where saxophones
wailed while the dapper beaux of Chica-
pra little Harlem shuffled and rolled: their
lack eyes. :

And when the “raid” was over, three
dozen sulking negroes were hustled

through the doors of the detective bureau.
where perspiring officers began the task
of asking and proving their whereabouts
the night Mary Trammell died.

Another group of police, meanwhile,
were speeding from one South Side hotel
to another, interviewing managers and
clerks, elevator operators, and available
guests—asking one vital question: “Has
anyone been troubled by prowlers or
Peeping Toms?”

It was a tiresome, aggravating task.

And for many hours, with the men
trooping Sharia from one lobby to an-
other, it looked hopeless until fate dealt
out one of the most incredible coinci-
dences in police annals. It happened in
the State Hotel—where Mary Trammell
was slain—and the man who provided the
all-important missing clue was John Bon.
the clerk who found her dead in bed!

Bon, | believe, was as startled as we
were.

But it was simply that he had forgotten
an incident that occurred in the hotel only
two weeks before, when a phantom prow-
ler tried to break into a guest room direct-
ly beneath the room where the killing took
place.

“1 don’t know why I didn’t think of
this before,” Bon said apologetically. “At
any rate, William Schumacher, one of our
guests, told me that some man had at-
tempted to break into his room, only to
be frightened away.”

“Is Schumacher still registered here?”
one of the detectives asked.

“Yes,” Bon said. “But I don’t think
he’s in right now.”

“All right, we'll wait.”

AN hour later, with Lieutenant Erlan-
son on the scene, Schumacher came
home and willingly told all he knew.

“I was asleep in my room,” he began,
“when a peculiar scratching noise awak-
ened me suddenly. I sat up in bed and
saw a huge negro climbing over the sill
into the room. I let out a roar and
started for him, but he jumped back like
a big cat and scrambled down the fire
escape.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was young and athletic. He had
a large, flat nose, very thick lips, and some
kind of a blemish on his face. But the
most important thing is the notebook he
dropped. It has names and phone...”

“A notebook!” Erlanson exclaimed.
“Good heavens, man, where is it?”

Schumacher, abashed by Erlanson’s ex-
citement, fumbled nervously in his pocket.

“Here it is,” he said, handing it to the
detective. “I’ve been keeping it as a
souvenir.”

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negro
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596 . HISTORY OF .[ROQUOIS COUNTY.

to avoid the blows, pleading, ‘‘ Don’t whip me, father, please don’t;
I will work.’’ At last he stopped and told him to put on his shirt.
The boy made an effort and failed, saying, ‘‘I cannot see it, I can-
not see it; no, father, I cannot see you,’’ and fell to the floor dying.
Meara said, ‘‘ Have I killed him?’* The sick wife, the only human
witness to the awful scene, replied, ‘‘ Yes, you have; you have fin-
ished him.’? Meara then bathed him with whisky, tried to have
him drink some, threw some over him, and labored to revive him.
Failing in this, he cried, ‘‘ Have I killed him?** After rubbing him
for a half hour the boy lifted his hand, moved his lips and was dead.
He then pushed the body under the mother’s bed, where it remained
till near midnight, when Meara laid him on a sheet, with his clothes
on, drew his cap over his face, pinned the sheet closely around him,
and taking him in his arms, carried the remains of his murdered son to
the previously prepared grave, about four rods south of the house,
and buried him five and a half feet deep. So complete had this
work been done that the soil was replaced in its natural position.
This severity of the father to the son was because he said the boy
would tell les, and would not work. The other members of the
family said he was a good boy, and only told falsehoods when his
father made him own to things he had not done, to avoid greater
punishment. After Mrs. Meara was able to go out she made an
effort to find the grave of her son, but failed. She told him so, and
he replied, ‘* I don’t think you could,’? The day after the murder
Meara posted notices in Gilman, written by himself, stating his son
had run away, and offered a reward for his return. The neighbors

suspecting something wrong at Meara’s, June 29 so stated to George

B. Winter and [saac McCourtie, of Onarga, who the next day un-
earthed this atrocious affair. A sufficient statement was by them
obtained from the eldest daughter, who was interviewed at school,
to satisfy them of the truth of the rumor. The girl was brought to
town, the father at once arrested, and search made for the body.
Meara was allowed to go home that night, being secretly watched
by a number of men all night. The next dav a large number of
citizens from Gilman and Onarga searched the premises. Many
gave up and went home before noon, and others came, and the
search went on. Meara was taken back to Onarga during the fore-
noon. At no time did he make any effort to escape; he feared be-
ing lynched, and asked the officers to protect him. He went un-
manacled about the village with the officer. Mrs. Meara denied all
knowledge of the affair till she knew lhe was in the custody of the
law. She said, *t] knew Martin was a passionate man, and our lives

ONARGA TOWNSHIP. soni 595

The soil is sand, and naturally well drained. There is now a fine
srowth of elms along the main driveways and a variety of ever-
greens along the walks. Such grounds are a credit and an ornament

“to Onarga. The respect paid to the dead is just measure of our
‘appreciation ot the living. :

yk MURDER OF MARTIN MEARA, JK.

Martin Meara dre. a boy eleven years old. was burned and
whipped by lis rather till he was dead. June 12, IsT1, the lad was
knocked down twice. and most unmereifully flogged until he could
not stand. Two or three times the father said he would whip the
life out of him. the boy pleading. 6 Father, don’t whip me any

niorece ek ne next morning his swollen face gave evidence of the |
ordeal through which he had passed 5 and feeling bad he returned
to his bed, saving to his sister he did not know why jus father
whipped him so. After he lad been im hed a short time Meara
made him get Up and feed the stock. and on his return to the house
whipped him: agin, and sent him to the Feld. 2 Not long after this
he brought lyin in. and commenced whipping lim with the stock of
a large Dlack-snake whip about a yard long 3 then laid him on the
hot stove (the: daughter wae paking biscuit at the time), the boy
pleading all the while. ~Pather, don’t burn me. dont? OMtH me.
He screamed vers Ronde be skin from his fect and back stuck to
the stove, making the room very offensive. Meara would not
allow a door of window te be opened, Ile knocked the boy down
with the butt end of the whip ctock several tinge. Ale then took
him to his mother’s reom,. and the children never Saw him again.
This is the testimony of Sarah Meara, fourteen years of age.
Maggie Meara, a bright little girl, seven years old, said to the cores
ner’s jury: =: Father whipped brother with a whip; he put brother
on the hot steve: he laid him down. he eried when he was put on
the stove} there was a fire “nthe SOEs he laid hin on his back
on the hot stoves brother tried to get away t his clothes were all off 5
father made him tuke them off himself: father hit brother on the
head; he hit him lots of times: he then threw him: in the shed; he
then walked pack and stood up by the side of the wall; he whipped
him, and then took hin into mother’s roo s I never saw him more 5
father told me not to say anything about it, or he would whip me ; J
loved my brother + father whipped me sometimes with a whip.”
Afterward the boy was taken to his mother’s room. where she lay sick
with an infant one day old. Meara in her presence used the whip
on him for a nuinber of minutes, the child dodging around the room

WO Re ec € SNe ® Br €. em
SNe fl 4 , ‘ 3

he a THE FIRST MURDER TRIAL

Bunkum (actually Montwomery) had the dubious. honor of being the scene of the first
murder trial and execution in Irecuois Comty, The first murder in Cook County aroused a
feeling so aoe against the accused that his rawyer took a eee of venue to eae S
PeMe

Charles evel a Chicago blacks smith, "with fifty seliers in his Secret etorted pee
ae from Chicago to Joliet. On his way he was seen in company with a man on horse ec
Ene “second day his lifeless ‘body was discovered near the -road and the man who had been ™ at:
en with him on horse back nas day before had disappeared. ----- A 23 year old man ‘named
; : homasson (alias Joseph Morris) was arrested and identified by several witnesses as the 3
"ame man who was seen in ous company. A knife, identified as the knife of Legree' Be. a
Meas also found in the possession of Thomasson". ae
: In the absence of 2 Sera house the trial] was held at the house of Richard Mont oer og
Bin May, 1836. There is some controversy as to the identity of the judge. The names of |
mestephen Logan and Thomic tord are both mentioned as having presided at the trial. James
Mmrant was/the states attorney and Hugh Newell was clerk. Samuel Mitchell Dunn was

mneriff at the time. : : ve
The prisoner's counsel asked for a continuance, which was refused, and the prisoner” ~ | —
.teaded "not guilty". <A jury was impannelled consisting of Benjamin Fry, Jacob W. hae

Whiteman, Samiel Rush, Alexander Wilson, James Frame Jacob Morgan, Wesley Spitler,
illiam A. Cole, Tra Lindsey, and Isaac Pry. J. A. Strickler and George Courtright
iwere two of the guirds on duty during the trial and consequent imprisonment.

- "The evidence was all circumstantial as there was no eye witness tq the crime. . The
ary was out but a few hours wher they returned a verdict of guilty. The sentence was
-:-onounced by the judge. and the day for the execution set for June 10. On May 19, (1836

motion for: anew trial wasotver, ruled." :
. #The prisoner was ivoned and contined in one cf the houses nearby until the day, of;
execution. He was pieced in a wagon and a rope was looped arcumd his neck, the
| vener-end of the ‘voor boi: Pastened to the. linb of a large walnut tree. This. {reser stoge
| the bottoms on the north side ol-th: Iroquois river, about half way between the old
Bee bridge and the bluir. ‘The wagon was driven out from under him and he was left
| wing until dead. A tatwe crowd of people tame from long distances tv witness. the :
| as The day was one of rain and storm. The prisoner, on his way to execution,
moked a cigar with great fortitude auc on arriving at the place of execution, mide a aa:
| hort. speech, justifying his pest lite. When life was extinct the body was buried: at, ae
Mme > point southeast of Bunkum. ev. Thouwas Timmons officiated at the iuneral. ;
The drama:of vis early crime was sae -enacted at the sen Settlers! Reunion of 1879,
kat which time a piece of the old walnut tree on which Thomasson was hanged, was displayed.
Mee rhe relic was the property of tc. ©. V. to sker.

wa mene ee cee
EGR TS Tp nt ee apres

Sees @
ONARGA TOWNSHIP. — ss . 597

were in danger.’ A partial examination was had before Justice
Amerman, hoping the daughter would tell the court the same she
had Winter and McCourtie; but the moment she entered the court:
room and the eves of ber father were upon ber she was dunth : net
a word could be got from her. Late in the afternoon the men began
to go home y nething had been accomplished, either in the court
soo or on the farm. At Jast acsmallpiece of clay. smoothly cut on

he sur

one side, was picked up. This belonged several feet below |

face. and led to athorough investigation at that place. By forcing
sharp sticks into the ground till the wrave was found the body was
Goon exhumed... When’ thisonews reached, towa the perperator of
this fonl decd was talking te some men about the suspicions that
he had made wav with bis boy. While thus ensaged MeCourtre
told him the body was found. He appealed to MecCourtre

merey upon ain. The reply came, tt Why do you ask qe for merey,
when you had none for your bey wher you killed him Z °° Meara
said, T whipped him to death.’ [rons were then pat on him, and
he was put ander close guard. While in charge of the officer he
said. if he had it to de again, he would fix itso po one would. find
the grave. There were strong Indientions that he would be ivuched
that night. but betrer counsel prevailed and. the poople dispersed,
and ander the cover ofan approaching thunderstorm he was removed,
by special constable Thomas Robinson and hus assistants. tech wacen
a half a mile away, and delivered to the sheriff at Watseka carly
the next day. The exciternent increased day by dav nutiloon the
fifth day, the death of Martin Mearn cecurred us has already been
related on page 40 of this work.

In 1878 Goodrich Marshall, in making a ditch about fifty rods
northeast of the Lehigh vravevard, discovered the skeletons of
two human beings. The diteh was along the margin of aoc bot-
tomless bog.’* The bones were about one and a half feet helow
the surface, and extending as much farther down. The smaller
of the two, supposed to be that of a woman, was further in-the bog,
and in a partly sitting position, The other was about six feet from
it, and on its side. Nearly all the smaller bones were decayed, and
readily crumbled on -exposure to the air. The large bones and
skulls of each were in a good state of preservation. Iinmediately
beneath where the stomach of each must have lain was a quantity of
watermelon seeds (recognized as such by visitors). The larger must
have been a man above medium size, and the smaller a boy, or if
of the opposite sex, a medium-sized woman. There is no tradition
of any event of the kind ever ocenrring in the neighborhood, and ne

i
4

-3—

during the tilise between HLS Sentence andexecution,
were Samuel ii. Dunn, sheriff; and Ceorse Courtright.
A large crowd of people came from long distances to
witness the execution. The day was one of rain and
storm. The prisoner, on his way to execution, smoked
a cigar with great fortitude and, on arriving at the
place of execution, made a short Speech, justifying
his past life. When life was extinct the body was

burried at a point a little southest of Bunkun.

Source of the above is from NEWTON COUNTY 1853-1911,
by John Ade, published by Bobbs-lierrill Company,

Indianapolis, Indiana, l19ll.

{OMASON, Joseph, white, 23, hanged at Bunkum, Illinois, on June 10, 1836

Chapter, LIT

Ti FIRST .UUDER TRIAL

Although the celebrated criminal trial to which I

would call attention, was held at Bunkuri, across

the state line, it deserves mention as a part of
local history. Several of the persons actually
participating in the triad afterward became citi-
zens of Wiewton county. Furthermore, county and
state lines did not form arbitrary divisions as
they do at present. LBunkum was the center of a

community of which Newton county was only a part.

Strange as it may seem, the first person arrested
for murder in Cook county, Illinois (the county in
which Chicago is situated), was brought to Bunkun
under a change of venue. In the month of way,
1836, a man was found dead near the roadside a few
miles west of Chicago. aA knife wound in the body
showed that the man.had been murdered. aA few days
after the discovery of the body, a man calling hin-
self Joseph L. Morris was arrested and indicted by
the grand jury. The feeling in Cook county was so
strong against him that his counsel took a change
j of venue to Iroquois county. The trial came up at
the May term, 1836, of the Iroquois circuit court,
and was held at the house of Richard tiontgonery.
Those present were: Stephen S. Logan, judge; James
Grant, state's attorney; tlugh Newell, clerk, and

Samuel ii. Dunn, sheriff. ‘The prisoner's counsel asked

for a continuance, which was refused, and the prisoner

pleading "not guilty," a jury Was ispaneled, consisting

)

of Denjanin Fry, Jacob W. Whiteman, Samuel Rush, Alex-

ander ‘Viilson, James Frame, Jacob iiorgan, i/esley Spitler,

Viilliam A. Cole, Ira Lindsey and Isaac [ry.

The evidence was that the prisoner had been seen in the
company of the deceased, that a knife found upon the
person of the prisoncr was identified as one belonrins
to the murdered man. ‘hese and other facts presented
caused the jury to bring in the following verdict:

mye, the jury, find the defendant guilty in manner and

form, as charged in the indictment."

On iiay 19, 1836, a motion for a new trial being over-
rulled, the court passed sentence as follows:

"Tt is ordered and adjudged by the court that the said
defendant be taken hence by the sheriff of Iroquois
county, and confined and safely kept by said sheriff
until Friday, the 10th day of June next, on Which day
the said defendant shall be taken by said sheriff to
Some convenient place if said county and then and there,
between the hours of ten o'clock in the morning and
three o'clock in the afternoon of the said day, by the
said sheriff hanged by the neck until he shall be dead."
The prisoner was ironed and confined in one of the houses
near by until the day of his execution, which took place
at the appointed tine. Iie was placed in a wacon and a
rope was looped around his neck, the other end of the
rope being fastened to the limb of a large walnut tree.
This tree stood in the bottoms, on the north side of the
Iroquois river, about half way between the prescnt wagon

bridge and the bluff. The wagon was driven out from

under him and he was left hanging until dead. iis guards

THOMPSON, Gerald, electrocuted, Illinois, (Peoria), on 10-15-1935

"In America.sseethe violent and illogical pattern of sex crime becomes in-
creasingly prevalent - although in many cases the murder was accidental, or
for the purposes of avoiding recognition. The Jerry Thompson case may he
taken as typical. Thompson, 25, was an engineer of Peoria, I11., who was
charged in 1935 with the murder Of Mildred Hallmark, The girl's "half-naked
body was found in a cemetery. When police appealed for information, pro-
mising anonymity to any woman who came forward, more than 25 womeh ad—
mitted they had been raped during the past 18 months. The rapist, a good-
looking, well-spoken young man usually approached them as they waited at
huskstops and offered them a firt He would drive to a lonely place,

and assault them; if they rdettted, he beat them or knocked them uncon-
scious. In several cases, he took photographs of the naked girl in the
headlights of the car, and told her he would send them to her relatives

if she made any complaint. Mildred Hallmark was the daughter of a ea

he worked with and willingly afcepted a lift. When she struggled

knocked her unconscious and raped her. He may have decided to may ape
because he was afraid of recognitibns; his own story is that he realized
she was dead after the assault. One of Fhompson's victims, a girl he had
raped and photographed six months earlier, later met him at a dance and
recognized him, When the police appealed for information she was one

of the women who came forward. Thompson! s diary, with < ietails of the
rapes, and photographs of naked girls were found’ in Ais ‘TOOMMs He told the
police he had been committing rape since he was 16, and had raped more
than 50 women." ORDER OF ASSASSINS : The Paycholvss of Murder, by Colin
Wilsons; Londons Rupert Hart-Davis, p 110

- ",,.Gerald Thompson, a 25-year-old Peoria factory worker, made the final walk to the
- chair, On Oct, 15, 1935, at 12:15 aam, the 2,100 volts were sent through his body,
'The family is satisfied. We would have taken nothing less,' said an older man who
witnessed the execution, The man was a fellow factory worker, He was also the fa-
ther of Mildred Hallmark, the 19-year-old victim who had been raped and strangled
in a cemetery, Thompson was visited by his parents, grandparents and a younger bro- |
ther, who was in the prison for a sex crime, the day before, That night he ordered
fried chicken, stuffed olives, wilted lettuce and black walnut ice cream to eat,
He had accepted the Catholic faith a few days earlier, ‘I'm sorry for all my sins,
May God have mercy on my soul and accept me,' he said, speaking through the black
death mask covering his head," Article on Executions by electrocution at Joliet by
John “hiteside,

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THOMPSON, Gerald, white, 26, elec. Joliet Prison, Ill, (Peoria) 10-15-1935.

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by.Arthur D. Norcross, New York pub. Britain has rival claims to the three
lisher, who said be escaped from the South Sea - islands. just- “colonized ”
raiders after sutrendering his hunt- at the instigation of the department

THOMP SON,

. ” ~~
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ibis Salat Abad 2 des —— abe 4

HOSTESS. } YER

Pe ALe ye NWN! why Oe

ats em |
Thompson ‘* Dispatched 9 0
1:40 Minutes for Mur-':
| :

{

he lated Presa) ;

| aay ¥ Avon Oct. 15. “ces
Thompson, : 26, ‘died in the ahs dae
chair in. the’ old Joliet prison” eh
12:13 a. -m. today. to expiate die
brutal , murder” -of Mildred teria
mark, ’ 19-year-old reorte cate eria’
tbe aan + wiih
Horus yous “machinist ‘made? ‘this
‘brief. sintement. to’: jailers as Baie
shuffled to ‘the chair’ ‘after. ~
heen’: attended ° vehy two Cat om
prieeta:!: URNA Fite pp
AN hold ‘no ‘malice. toward fone:
y." I forgive: everybody.:’. Nald

{ He’ was’ strapped. into the. “e

t
urrent w turned on @
ins mi ic ‘inet and. 40

| Jaw when she’ resisted the’ ‘advances

{Thompson's own family, after
having’. consoled : him” during’ this
last hours, : left’ -the doomed | ban
about 9 p..m., last night.:

Prison officials: ‘granted. ‘him’ Dare
mission to; receive visitors. up. to’
two hours: before: ‘hig: execution:

Thompson's: mother, Mrs. Flor--
ence” Whiteside ~ordered*: his “body:
turned over’ to:a ‘Joliet; uapsctaX te
to be sent’ to:’Peorla’ for buria

She and'‘her son, Victor -Thompso
a fellow prisoner‘ of his. brothe
were alloweg#lengthy ' Visits , with
the | doomed: ‘man, '.: Victor!’ was
sentenced to’ the. prison | ‘last sui
mer “for ’ mex, oharge. _agal st ia
small boyd.) 0" pes ey
To the ev. Eligius Welr, Cath-
Olic | ‘Prig n ‘ch plain: mom ee
said:, ; : ha a ELH ae 4
“Maybe ‘the world’ will ‘be |
off without: me." «i tit ‘
He added ‘to his. wed fal
visor: “I vouret all the. griet : have
eauned, iy mae es ial
The crime tor. which“*ne? was,
condemned. was branded, ‘one | Of
the most brutal. in. the: history ‘: ‘of:
Peoria. On, the ‘night. of June. 17,
he offered :the: pretty” young. cate-,
teria. hostess, a rid home: as: she
was waiting’ fora street Sar, ‘ fter,
attending. a theater, .

}

ah, $3 rad
47-The next: morning her body, was

in a ditch in’ a cemetery,* Bhé! had
been. struck “a> heavy,. blow: oni ‘the

of ‘her escort,’ ‘and: Maeer £ {then' ‘been

, attacked. scr: sheer , Leintit

riot. Nene: dead : ‘eit an

mar. o ang re ‘fellow-employe’: Dh ont
ompac a jsPeoria factor.

aie

Sceietelilels J
seme

ate Slot

i
12
ok

ert a AAR
sais a
aah al

tanga

owt

Wr MIC QUE “==

Gerald Thayer 25, 3%

if)
pets

Tests anc Sight of

By RK. BROOES S|
Almost 24 hours of ruthie Ss avi }3
e famous lie detec tor and ?
ms blood-stained d clothing come
eon from Gerald T. Thompsot,
i WF. Moneia aveang, Peor ia
ad rourdered ee v-cld Mie
| Thompsen, who was arrested
, Welty and Gien ee at 12:50 0’
| immediately after signing a conted
ithe eity jail. Authorities decided!
ja precantion aga:nst mob vielenc
Although he partially witastaog
Tie Tames He catectoy ta

so hiscsters: . Even. se ne py
Me Ia A ae A eines 12 of

{

MILDRED u ALLM ARK

a nee eae ene

Confession

POS BS:
i

f
tag

Trt ene:

Lm ence tse och

’ Gerald Thonipsen, canvic ted Slayer Thonpson’s body surges against the
ef Mildred Hatlniark, Peoria, bi. is strans, his hands twisting as execn- Tee cecond jolt stiffens his musebes
fastened in electric chair at Jotiet, tioner sppiex first shock af elec- as current again courses through ta
Di, wrison,

iarete a wocy. Face is hidden by black mask,

Lm, Pes

THOMPSON, Gerald, white, elece Ill. (Peoria County) on 10/15/1935,
(OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES, November, 1955.

Into a Ditch of Spring-

dale Cemetery Some
Fiend Had Tossed the
Nude Body of a Young
Girl — After He Had
Ravishe d Her, Then

Broken Her Neck. Who?

in Springdale Cemetery, inside the city limits

of Peoria, Illinois, William McGarvey, driver
of the work wagon, was almost unseated when his
nigh horse shied violently away from the ditch at
the side of the road and, snorting loudly, attempted
to run.

The startled driver reined down the frightened
horse, brought the wagon to a stop and stood up to
see what had so alarmed the animal.

The next moment he had whirled the team
around and was lashing it into a run, headed back
toward the cemetery office.

“There’s a girl . . . naked, I think... lying in
a ditch . . . on Valley Road... dead,” he gasped
out to Superintendent Clarence P. Scott.

“On Valley Road?” Incredulity was in Scott's
voice. ‘Why I drove along that road myself twice
this morning. I didn’t see any body.”

“Well, I didn’t get out ‘of the wagon and go
over to it,”’ admitted McGarvey, “but I could look
into the ditch. There’s a body there, all right, I
saw the bare legs sticking out.”

Convinced, Scott picked up the telephone and
called Police Headquarters, :

A S his team plodded along a winding roadway

body came to rest against the br

By Lew Barker

(Pseudonym for a Member of the
Peoria, Illinois, Police Department
Who Must Remain Unidentified )

As Told to M. T. Moore

Thus was tossed into the lap of Fred Nussbaum,
who only that morning—June 17, 1935—had become
acting Chief of Police, a strange and horrible case.

In no time at all after Scott’s call came in Mc.
Garvey was leading several persons to the place
where he had seen the body. Present were half a

dozen detectives, a reporter or two, a photographer

and employes of the cemetery.

They found the girl lying head downward near
a low concrete retaining wall which juts out from
the roadway. When a blue plaid coat which cover-
ed the body was lifted, her white lace dress, rip-
ped to shreds, could be seen wadded up under her
arms, In the wet sand of the other side of the
retaining wall, at the edge of a tiny creek, were a

Here is the murder scene, with Officer Robert Koegel standing on the spot where the nude
oken retaining wall,
direction the murder vehicle must have taken when the body was tossed

The car in the rear shows the

pair of white slippers, a Paper parcel and a black
patent leather purse. :

Near the body were crumpled stockings and
a white felt hat.

HE parcel contained white yarn, knitting needles

and a partly completed sweater. In the purse,
among other things, was an identification card for
Mildred Hallmark, .1100 East Maywood Avenue.

Doctor E. C. Burhans, Coroner’s Physician,
came along presently, examined the body and said
the death was due to a broken neck. A slight scalp
wound, he thought, had been sustained when her
head hit the concrete wall. There was a heavy
bruise on the left jaw near the chin,

“This gitl was knocked out by a powerful
blow to the face, then ravished while she was un-
conscious,” Doctor Burhans said.

Death, he estimated, had taken place four to
five hours previously. This was seen as corroborated
by the fact that although heavy rain had fallen around
3 a. m., the girl’s garments were only slightly damp,
making it a strong probability that she had been put
in the ditch after the rain.

The position of the body and the absence of

eee <3

PROS

ard bis beds %
T

:
rs

$e BMA meg,

+e Peery? $e
Thompscc fe preaosaeed dont
being released % be ser:

soz had

Eater casey
{pe PP cite

PTS?

vine
Mage Moon Pictures Taxes eith the Machine Gun Caratva-—Ieie«ticnal Pho
CREE 3 3iee tig

opens Thompson's shirt a2 a
gector applies a stethoscope to Msion

icr hsurtbeata,

Guard

nough,

y woul

Death's final sting—the third and final «bocx.

Although one shock probs

aude? current makes sure of death.

Oe Ss qpterentert tn the

oman tof-
mtNwG Ww 8 recent detec”
“NAG ,
JRA wise - wHOM pSOn :
VIROL Ade? ; “
Peete MS mall.

a One

wo etre

ce areaged readers WSS an
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Ser tal
; a acnoot ey Aa a 2 retter gO a
gs it evidenced UV BO ns SUP By
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< Mes on pews
euiniendent of the Feet prem anil:
emer snamt raent tft. ate Miet
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: : wi a TY (yore ot ox F wat reed ate Mi

x LAOS that ahe ua ft - wiy Bie
her puis ahacrmer of Bye

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ret har

+e side
tni s at Wade
wpook wee ,
opened t

Ges oe eR
BRU EA!
Fond hia chAaS
Keg 2? detective TAR IARWYS
Paes rounder atory .
mative Groat ot . _
away from be ering a ne Be
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| ten BY Detective Chews

Phi fe 3 o oy dd . ;
wre ahs s an depactnir heey:

Woy ert “ou

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Witt Mayer at Astaire
tmioukermang gbote-
tafe principal eaprt this

SO hee SS

123.3¢.~-

, he ®icked
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tl the 2B

snapped
af the
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thie begs

neged 1 ted

itter this pécterr was

tnatasntip
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Mas:

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CREST. kt ONDA an

Cetin doe ”
ABD TERY a bar tea

Fig 1 Mete Juvort dr diet:
ae ae 2 Tn suite of tow combenitiwied mo-~
ten gy OO? fot delay, Judge Deuly weid che
wet ates VCS Qeue an order tur Me wats
ui pp .
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ning trial t

dant more iiget:
d weatthy Dr Mars!
physietau, that he wa.

twits a Teguler panei ef He |
Dr [saac rs ‘ it, cg i wt

had t ‘ cts pO whieh to hegin |
COON IOGING nar eer or) \ Bapect rey tena
‘ Dr. Pitzman had woven , “very mu ee The 3G
BRelby $16,000 to finance ner i + is

welt at Bw am, Daye gt :
tie ew is that after te

’ Oe ale F

THES | age ye y

ne heating ee | oe
Vu haere af meardertgiy the a mod é‘

pol 16% atititional jumors take ayes |

Paid, wire

Ons ms pinay

record by his rney, a
ait rewiained segied xf hie”
eel's table and said cane
The oak motion offered toe. tet
defendant wowd have, = Bn "tae"
| cownsel the richt to
| the atate's athibits,

Mare La whash Thompson . ¢tnagiet
#4 gttacks purported to Kien € fe
dod WNOR wt least 16. pine
iid Women, ‘

|
}

+ et

| At the end of the Rewrting

. td maw geld he went wiadae
¥ rest Wednesday for s ag

Ytrem duty a2. the date
Toemparr W go fo tisk,

While she was popular in her set, she had “dates” only oc-
casionally with Peoria boys; her most persistent suitor lived
some distance away, in Paxton, Illinois. The parents were
sure she was not out with a young man at this late hour.
What, then, was the mystery behind her failure to return
home?

The Hallmarks went to bed and tried to sleep. After
dozing fitfully for a half-hour, the mother would run to
Mildred’s bedroom to see if she had come in.

Rain beat against the windowpanes; wind howled around
the corners of the house.

“Tt’s a bad night; maybe she was in an auto accident,” the
father suggested hopelessly.

“No, I’m sure it isn’t that,” Mrs. Hallmark replied. “I
don’t know why, but I have a feeling it’s something worse
than an accident. Oh, my baby, my baby... . I’m afraid
she’s dead !”

Even then, perhaps, the grief-torn mother’s sharp intui-
tion told her Mildred was in the clutches of a fiend who
would kill to satisfy his lust.

As the night wore on to a gray dawn and there still was
no word from Mildred, Ruby Hallmark began calling
friends and acquaintances where she might have stayed for
the night. None could give any information.

We MORNING came the police were notified. Shortly
after Ruby reported the disappearance, McGarvey
telephoned to describe his gruesome discovery on Valley
Road.

Detectives Charles Welty, Harry Whittaker, Glenn Ford
and others under the direction of Acting Police Chief Fred
Nussbaum, accompanied by coroner’s and sheriff’s officers,
rushed to Springdale in response to the alarm.

The spot where the body was found was within four blocks

GRUESOME FIND PITIFUL REMAINS

William McGarvey
(above), an employe of
the Springdale Cemetery
in Peoria, came upon the
body of attractive Mil-
dred Hallmark, while
making his rounds early
one June morning. He
quickly reported his find.

An officer is shown right
gazing at the clothing of
Mildred Hallmark, all
of which was found near
the body. The fiend had
ripped her dress and un-
derclothes from her body
and disposed of the
corpse in the culvert.

of the Hallmark home, not far from the Prospect Road en-
trance to the cemetery. The connection between the dis-
appearance and the slaying was obvious, and identification
was speedly established. Mrs. Hallmark’s worst fears were
realized—the victim was Mildred.

The corpse was in a half-sitting position at the bottom
of the ditch, apparently having been pushed down from the

‘top of the small embankment. Before it was sighted by

McGarvey, Clarence P. Scott, cemetery superintendent, had
twice driven along Valley Road that morning, and a truck
had gone past once. Neither Scott nor the man in the truck
had been seated high enough in their vehicles to look down
into the ditch, however.

Most of. the clothing had literally been stripped off the
youthful form. A torn brassiere and shreds of bloomers
were all that remained to cover the body under the plaid
coat. The white lace dress Mildred had worn had been
ripped away and now was wadded under her arms. Her
stockings were crumpled over her bare legs. The girl’s
white slippers lay in the wet sand beside a small creek which
trickled along the bottom of the ditch and flowed out through
a culvert in the retaining wall. Near the body were Mil-
dred’s white felt hat, her purse containing a watch which
was still running, and a package containing knitting mate-
rials and a partially finished sweater.

HIS MUCH THE detectives observed in the first few mo-
ments of inspection. The ripped clothing indicated the
work of a fiend; the scattering of articles in the ditch showed
that they had been cast in hastily after the body—that the
killer was fearful, anxious to get away.
The cause of death was not easy to determine. There
was a livid bruise on the chin, as well as a laceration on the
scalp from which a large amount of blood had trickled down

over her
beneath th
“The cu
when her
taining w
tective W
a sharp-e
barrier.
“It’s m
her neck
by the bl
chin,” sai
Burhans,
physic
looked ov:
The
autopsy b
belief. L
determin
slayer h
Mildred’s

a ditch beside the road. “Giddap, natural pose told the startled laborer that she was dead!
there! What’s the matter with McGarvey clambered back on the wagon, whipped the
you!” McGarvey roared. But team to the cemetery barn, and breathlessly called the Peoria
then he looked into the ditch and: _ police.

saw a flash of blue plaid. Curi- All during the preceding night anxiety and dread had
ous, he halted the team and got shadowed a modest Peoria home. At 1100 East Maywood

down to investigate. The blue Avenue, Mr. and Mrs. John Hallmark waited first with im-
plaid was a girl’s coat.... patience, then with mounting fear, for the return of their
And it was cast carelessly over pretty nineteen-year-old daughter, Mildred. A second
the semi-nude body of a daughter, Ruby, tried to comfort them, though she, too, was
young woman whose stiff, un- apprehensive.

Mildred was a waitress at the Bishop cafeteria, a position
VICTIM OF LUST che had held since May 1. Formerly an honor student at

A police officer is shown left the Academy of Our Lady, she had taken the job in the
carefully examining the cul-

cert. th eek (ihe kate hope that it would be temporary and might lead to some-
body of pretty Mildred thing better. Usually she left work at 8:30 p. mM. and went
Hallmark (below) was dis- home by street car immediately, but on this particular eve-
site he la ue ning she had mentioned that she might attend a downtown
Sill alms; vhs" Aad bron movie. If she had seen a show, she should have returned
criminally assaulted. home before twelve.
But midnight came and Mildred did not appear. Her
mother and father stepped out on the front porch and looked
down the street. There was no sign of the girl. One o'clock,
two o’clock. . ..
“I’m afraid something has happened to her,” Mrs. Hall-
mark wailed. “She’s never stayed out this late before.”
Mildred had always been a thoughtful, obedient daughter.
Unlike many other girls of her age, she
had no inclinations toward “wildness.” 'N CUSTODY

Officers arrested
Gerald Thompson
(left handcuffed),
after an anony-
mous telephone
call to headquar-
ters said he had
been cleaning his
car with gasoline.

2 ‘
? J
~<a 4

ustry of Spring-

‘melancholy, but
tent. His cheery
over the tomb-
manipulated the
iful morning and
o a wilder, more

shied away from

THOMP

SON, Gerald

Mystery ve

A laborer, driving through
Springdale Cemetery, Peoria,
Illinois, on the morning of June
17, this year, saw a flash of
blue plaid in a ditch beside the
road. The blue plaid was a girl’s
coat. It covered the semi-nude

body of comely, young Mildred
Hallmark. Her neck was broken.

Her face was bathed in blood
from a deep scalp laceration.
And she had been ravished. This
is the inside story of how author-
ities trapped the sex-mad fiend
who boasted that he had pre-
viously attacked more than
fifty-two women ina single year.

byGordonM.Franck

LOVE

HERE HAD BEEN a shower during the night, and Mon-

day morning, June 17, 1935, was fragrant with a

clean, fresh breeze. William McGarvey, a laborer
employed at the Springdale Cemetery in Peoria, Illinois,
sniffed the air appreciatively as he drove his team along the
graveyard trail known as Valley Road.

Rain-washed headstones gleamed whitely under the early
sunshine. The grass and shrubs were lush and green. The
mounds that marked the resting places of the dead stretched
up the hillside in an orderly, funereal array. Everything

PEOR

b
SS

was neat, well-tended, testifying to the industry of Spring-
dale’s caretakers.

Most persons would have found the scene melancholy, but
in McGarvey it aroused satisfaction and content. His cheery
“Giddap!” broke the silence that hovered over the tomb-
stones. From his seat on the wagon he manipulated the
reins with a right good will; it was a beautiful morning and
he had many things to do. He passed into a wilder, more
remote section of the cemetery.

Suddenly one of the horses snorted and shied away from

Prospect Road en-
between the dis-
and identification

; worst fears were

ion at the bottom
ed down from the
it was sighted by
uperintendent, had
rning, and a truck
e man in the truck
icles to look down

n stripped off the
hreds of bloomers
ly under the plaid
id worn had been
‘r her arms. Her

legs. The girl’s
. small creek which
flowed out through
he body were Mil-
ng a watch which
ing knitting mate-

1 the first few mo-
thing indicated the
in the ditch showed
the body—that the

determine. There
a laceration on the
| had trickled down

over her shoulders and stained the dress
beneath the body.

“The cut might have been caused
when her head struck the re-
taining wall,” suggested De-
tective Welty, pointing to
a sharp-edged concrete
barrier.

“Tt’s my guess that
her neck was broken
by the blow on the
chin,” said Dr. E. C.
Burhans, coroner’s
physician,who
looked over the body.

The _— subsequent
autopsy bore out this
belief. Dr. Burhans
determined that the
slayer had clutched
Mildred’s throat with

DEATH CAR

Mildred took what
was to be her last
ride in Thompson’s
car (abowe). He
picked her up while
she was waiting for a
car to take her home.

CONVICTED

It took a jury but a
short time to find
Gerald Thompson
(center) guilty of the
murder of Mildred
Hallmark. Police

which he listed .the
names of all the girls
he had attacked.

found a diary in-

his left hand and struck her on the chin with his right fist;
her head snapped backward with such force that the neck
was broken. The cut on the head, in the doctor’s opinion,
was not serious enough to cause death.

While still alive, Mildred had been criminally assaulted,
according to Dr. Burhans’ findings.

T WAS ESTIMATED that death had occurred from four to

five hours before the body was found. There had been’
a shower at about three o’clock Monday morning, and, since
the plaid coat and other articles found with the body were
only slightly damp, detectives surmised that the crime must
have occurred after the downpour.

A search of the grass along the ditch failed to turn up
any object which might have been used as the weapon to
inflict the scalp wound. Neither could the detectives find
any signs of a scuffle, or any unusual tire tracks, in the hard
surface of Valley Road.

McGarvey disclosed that the cemetery had been used oc-
casionally as a “petting party” retreat—at least, he had seen
cars parked there until early hours of the morning. There
formerly were chains across all the entrances to Springdale,
but the chain across the Prospect Road entrance was stolen
and had never been replaced. Presumably, the killer drove
in this entrance with Mildred Hallmark late on Sunday
night, parked his machine and made advances to her, killed
her when she resisted, and then circled around and drove
away through the Prospect Road gate.

While the bruised body of the attractive, auburn-haired
victim rested on a cold slab in a mortuary, detectives emptied
out her purse in the office of Coroner William B. Elliott.

There was no money, yet the robbery theory had already
been discarded, since a small diamond ring had not been
removed from her finger. The purse contents included a
handkerchief, the watch, a comb, a few sticks of gum, a
vanity case and a box of rouge, a lipstick—all the usual
things carried by a girl.

Besides, there was an unmailed letter addressed to Vin-
cent Pilgrim, the Paxton youth with whom Mildred had

recog-
imself,

worn &
. found
me leg
iple of
sly like
, along

on the
ised of
nied it,
rs. He
{ when
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ne ruth-

nodded.
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ie girl’s

rut of a

lismayed
his eyes
pt them
m admit
nued, he

son with
e and he
ked me,”
agitated.
ood light
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other

sr do
_ xeuse
like this

e reason-
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yur days’
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xonerated
girl, and
od part.
any con-
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ris were,

ls of the
be used,
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consisted
could be
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snsclence ?
ining to-
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ve been?
obvious.
iw lay the
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the jail
Peoria’s
tery

Thompson’s attention never had been
directed to that clothing. He had no way
of knowing whose garments they were
unless he had seen them before and recog-
nized them. Unobtrusively, behind his
back, someone picked up the lacy, white
dress, the plaid coat, the shoes and stock-
ings and placed them upon a table near
him but where he could not see them
unless he twisted his head clear around.

He was being questioned now about
the marks upon his face and hands. He
said that they had been received when
the door of his car had been blown against
him while he was brushing out the floor
in the rear; that his hands had been
caught by an edge of the door, that his
cheek had been slightly lacerated when
it came in contact with the door’s lock.

“You’d hardly have noticed it if I
hadn’t painted them with iodine,” he
added. “If, as you seem to think, that
Hallmark girl gave me those scratches, I’d
hardly have called attention to them with

iodine, would I?”

Chief Nussbaum frankly told him that

‘he thought a great deal of what he had

Judge Joseph Daily presided at the
trial

told was untrue; that he was guilty at
least of the attack upon the girl who had
identified him.

“There’s one way that we can tell when
you are lying,” he said. “There’s a ma-
chine, a lie detector—”

“Tye heard about that machine. So
you want to try it on me? All right. I'll
stand for it.”

So presently Fred Imbau and his lie
detector arrived. There was a great deal
of what appeared to be curiosity in
Thompson’s eyes but nothing that could
be construed as fear or worry. His
answers to innocuous questions, unrelated
to the murder and asked only to get upon
a chart those wavy lines that would in-
dicate his pulse reactions to harmless
queries, were prompt and almost flippant.

Suddenly the name “Mildred” was in-
jected into the questioning. His pulse, as
indicated by the chart took a sharp jump,
but immediately he denied he had known
Miss Hallmark. Other questions, pertinent
now to the murder, came in rapid-fire
order. His denials persisted.

“That will be enough,” said Imbau and
began to unstrap the detector from
Thompson’s arm.

“Well, how did I make it?” asked
Thompson and there was a confident look
in his eyes.

“You didn’t make it at ali,” said Imbau
curtly. “You lied like hell and you know
it. Chief, this man killed Mildred Hall-
mark. Look at this chart. Notice how
the lines jumped when we were close to
the subject of the murder, how they re-
turned to normal when we got off the
subject.”

True Detective Mysteries

Thompson sat staring at him aghast.
A look of fear crept into his face, was
succeeded by what might have been blank
terror.

And at that precise moment someone
picked up the slain girl’s clothing and
deposited it upon Thompson's lap!

He leaped to his feet with a shrill yell.

“Take them away! Take them away!”
he screamed. “My God! I don’t know
how’ you expect me to stand that!”

His hands went up to cover his face.
“They’re just like a witness standing there
to point a finger at you.” He hesitated,
his body racked by dry sobs. Then: “My
poor grandmother! Oh, my poor grand-
a I don’t know how she will stand
this.” :

“Then you killed Mildred Hallmark,
Thompson?”

“T might as well get it over with. Yes,
I killed her, but I didn’t mean to. You
know that, don’t you?”

He could hardly wait for a stenographer
to get into the room to get off his chest
the horrible story he had to tell. Then—
talking so rapidly, so nearly incoherently,
that it was hard for the stenographer to
a up with him—he launched into his
tale.

He was coming back from the home
of his sweetheart when he saw Mildred
Hallmark standing on the corner of
Pennsylvania and Knoxville Avenues. He
still insisted that he did not know her,
but stopped to offer her a ride just be-
cause she was a girl, alone and on a lonely
corner late at night.

“y ASKED her if I could take her home.

She didn’t answer. I said, ‘If you’re go-
ing toward Peoria Heights, you might as
well ride. I’m going beyond there.’ She hesi-
tated but she came closer to the car and
looked me over. I got out so that she
could have a good look. It began to
drizzle just about then and that seemed
to decide her. She let me help her into
the car and I started out, following the
Peoria Heights car-line.”

He sought to lull her into a sense of
security by giving her a fictitious name
and address for himself. She told him who
she was and they were getting along well
until they reached the corner of Prospect
Road and Maywood Avenue, where he
should have turned off to take her to her
home, a couple of blocks away.

Still unalarmed apparently, she told
him to stop and go back; that they had
passed the turning off place.

“T told her that I knew it and that she
wasn’t going home yet awhile,” Thompson
continued. “I knew exactly where we
were going—to Springdale Cemetery. I
had been there before, with other girls.
I drove into the cemetery and parked be-
side some trees.

“Tho girl tried to get out. T held her,
told her what I wanted and said I was
going to have my way. She fought me
and so I opened the door and dragged
her out into the roadway, opened the
back door of the car and made her get
into the rear seat.

“Tf you can talk me out of this back
here, you can go home,’ I said. She didn’t
talk. She just began fighting harder than
ever and bit me on the hand. T held her
hands then and tried to kiss her. She
was too quick for me, however, and bit
me on the chin.

“That made me real mad, so 1 poked
her on her chin. I didn’t think I hit her
hard, but it knocked her out!”

While the girl lay unconscious in the
hack seat, Thompson said, he attacked
her.

“I thought she’d come to after a bit and
that after I’d made her promise not to
tell anyone what had happened, T would

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take her home. Tf she didn't promise, she
could just get out and walk. 1 didn’t care
one way or the other. She didn’t know
me, anyhow.

“After a long time J began to get scared
she wasn’t going to come out of it after
all. I leaned over to put my ear over
her heart, but my own heart was pounding
so hard I couldn’t hear anything else, but
I'm sure she was alive. I deeided Id
better dump her out somewhere and go
on home.

“1 domt know what T thought, but it
crossed my mind to take off her clothes
to prevent identification if she was dead.
I got off her shoes and stockings, expect-
ing to put her in the pond right there
where we were parked. Then I thought
I had better take her down to the river.”

Leaving the girl in the back seat, he
drove out of the cemetery, but) became
nervous Jest she regain consciousness as
he drove through town toward the river,
seream and get him caught. So he turned
back into the cemetery and at the first
likely place, he “dumped her out into the
ditch and threw her stuff after her.”

HEN, he said, he went home but was

{oo nervous to sleep until daylight came
and he could inspect his car. Finding
stains which he believed to be blood, he
had tried to wash them out with ammonia,
then had decided to buy new seat covers
to conceal them,

Horrible as was his story, we felt certain
that he had not told all the details of that
struggle which took place in the cemetery.
The picture of that pitiful, violated body
in the ditch, with the ripped, torn clothing
told the full story far better than he.

Somehow, the end of the story seemed
to leave us officers of the law more shaken
than this young murderer. He actually
seemed to be cocky about it, to be en-
joying his moment in the spotlight even
if there were only half a dozen of us

True Detective Mysteries

must. be fifty girls at least that I got my
hands on.”

He rambled on, revealing shocking de-
tails of his depravities, most of it unfit to
print.

“Mostly I got them by playing the
dance halls. I always picked out the
youngest and best looking and gave them
a line about being on the hunt for a good
girl. That always seemed to get ’em.
liked to get hold of married women, too.
They put up a better fight and I liked
that. Hf they fought too hard, though, 1
socked 7em.”

He laughed loudly when he admitted
that he had tricked many of his victims
into silence by pretending to take their
pictures as they lay nude in front of the
headlights of his car. He admitted that
he earricd a pair of scissors with which to
cut-off his. vielims’ clothing after he had
subdued them.

“Chief,” said someone, “this fellow can’t
be telling the truth about all this. He’s
just) boasting.”

“That’s what you think,” came Thomp-
son’s hot rejoinder. “You don’t believe me,
ch? Well, I can prove it. Go on out to
my house. Look under my shirts in the
dresser drawer. You'll find a little black
book. It’s all written down there, that is
from some time in 1933 when I began to
write down what. I was doing.”

We found the book just where he said.
What a horrible record it proved! Assault
after assaull! Dates, names and addresses
of the victims, the stories he had told
each of them, the sadistic details of how
he brought terror to them and pleasure
lo himself by picturing to them before-
hand what was going to happen, of those
he had beaten into compliance—a_nause-
ating, sordid story of depravity. We who
read tt swore that unless it became neces-
sury to send Thompson to the electric
chair no other eyes than ours ever should
look upon those pages!

Justice moved swiftly to start Thompson

a grand jury. The following day he was
smuggled back into town and arraigned
before Circuit Judge Henry J. Ingraham.
A clerk read the indictment which charged
him with Mildred Hallmark’s murder.

“Where do they get that ‘malicious and
willful’ stuff?” Thompson demanded from
behind the hands he kept up to his face.
“J wasn’t either malicious or willful.”

He broke silence again to plead not
guilty and a third time to plead with the
astounded judge for a “break.”

“The Court will preserve for you all
the rights you are entitled to,” was the
stern reply. Then trial was set for July
22nd. .

Back in a cell with four weeks of wait-
ing to learn his fate stretching out before
him, Thompson quickly began to lose his
nerve. Realization of the terrible things
to which he had confessed apparently
came to him for the first time. Repeatedly
he begged to be permitted to go into
court at once and have things decided
immediately through a plea of guilty.

An attorney hired and retained by the
family might have taken a chance on
leniency at the hands of a judge and
permitted ‘Thompson to plead guilty.
However, the Court appointed Attorney
Ben Thurman to defend him and, hope-
less as the case seemed, he was determined
to give the slayer every opportunity the
law allowed. So when the case went to
trial on the appointed date, the plea was
not guilty and the selection of a jury
began.

Fo relate the details of the trial is un-
necessary. Thompson had little chance
to escape conviction when _ it started;
when the State won permission to offer
his confession in evidence and the jury
heard it, he had no chance whatever.
Thurman’s battle centered first upon keep-
ing the confession out of evidence, then
upon raising a doubt as to Thompson’s
sanity. He lost on both points. The

Sim

a free man, hi. .-..
in the mystery.
vestige of a materi:
Without him, our |i
new turn—a wide, }
marked the day thi:
slowly in our sea:
Simona Chavez. . .
Some twenty di:
Lazaro Hernandez \

in the late dusk of *
seen him all day. |
&

had been.
“Looking for El :
“Where? We've
down.”
“ve been looking
That sentence ¢;

Simona Chavez. Of «
was remote and ints
breaks and disappoin'
More leads, false clu:
to be tracked befor
But the basis of o

present, and having started talking he on the path to electrocution. It had to verdict, after short consideration, was in-
couldn’t seem to stop. move swiftly! An outraged public was evitable—death in the electric chair.
“You can’t do any more to me than demanding his life. Publication of some The verdict was reached on July 30th. Bittiiate nek =e
you'll do for this,” he said defiantly, “so of the details of his confession stirred up Thompson was denied a new trial and rele of poe
I might as well tell you everything. This the mob spirit in even the most law- October 15th was set as his execution Co FONG

is the only girl I ever killed, but she
wasn't the only one I ever took out and
made come across like I wanted. I started
doing that when I was sixteen and I’ve
becn doing it ever since. Why, there

abiding of citizens. It was deemed_ best
io spirit him out of town, keep shifting
him from one county jail to another until
that spirit had died out somewhat.

On June 25th, 1935, he was indicted by

date. The sentence of the Court was
carried out without a hitch and on that
mid-October day, Peoria’s depraved killer
paid his debt to society in the death
chamber at Joliet penitentiary.

MASTER DETECTIVE

In the March Issue—Now on the News Stands

HOW G-MEN: SMASHED CONNECTICUT'S WHITE SLAVE RING

handled the

nailed on that sentence:
his freedom because
vestigation.

From that moment
charted out a new cat
“cover” the underworl
much as a reporter «
I knew full well that
hiding out in the Unite:
would locate him anc
up to us to drive The |

While Hernandez |:

The trap door closed slowly. Cautiously the man lowered himself into the inky darkness below. He could hear heavy breathing. Suddenly a stifled scream
splintered the stillness as his flashlight focussed on a startling sight. ... What was the amazing secret sheltered beneath Bethany Inn? Would it lead sleuths
to the cunning brains ‘promoting the everlasting parade of prostitutes? Don’t miss this smashing feature in the March Master Detective, revealing how
girls are ensnared and enslaved to ander to the desires of men so that the vultures who control them can fatten on their wages of sin. An engrossing story

that thrills you as you follow the fearless G-Men into the haunts of vice.

three of my agents we
entire portion of Juare
to communicate by ma
world grapevine and

the interior cities of 4
known to be playgro:
All along the border

the country the word
Juarez as a base, we
snare our man.

For ten days, Hern
Paso. Each day he re;
And then...

The evening of the
nandez telephoned me.
“The Rat,” he said,
haven’t located him, bu
that he’s mixed up it
angle. I know he’s |i
“Get on the smuggl:
“Find out when and w)
to. Juarez. We'll be
grimly. ‘

MYSTERY OF NANTASKET BEACH

| Whose was the battered body found bobbing in the tide off Nantasket Beach? Three men gazed upon the gruesome object and uttered the same name—
yet this beautiful young wife could not identify him. Sleuths probing the puzzle reached an impasse—and then they stumbled on the clue of a patchwork
quilt. Here is a real story for detective fans—a tale packed with mystery and intrigue—an intimate recital of crimson passion that stirs while it astounds

THE RIDDLE OF THE PAINTED BODY

When the flames died down, a man’s body was found in the smoldering shed—and a suicide note lay near by. But was it suicide? The patches of paint on
the body pointed to a more sinister solution. Thus was the start of an astounding case—one in which sensation follows sensation, culminating in one of the
most extensive murder-man-hunts of modern times. Don't miss it in the March Master Derective.

WHO KILLED JAMES BASHAM, U. S. N.? SAN DIEGO'S STRANGEST MURDER MYSTERY

A strange situation confronted the police officers. A man had presumably died of alcoholic poisoning—yet his clothes reeked with the sickening sweet odor of
gas. What sleuths found when they delved deeper into this amazing riddle will startle you. Who really killed James Basham? You'll sit glued to your
chair as you read of this strange triangle of passion, with its crimson climax and baffling events that made it one of the West Coast’s most extraordinary
enigmas.

These and other thrilling fact cases will appear in the March Master Detective, a Macfadden Publication, on sale at all news stands now.

ANOTHER VICTIM OF PROWLER

} Seven weeks before the Trammell murder, Mrs. Florence

i Thompson Castle (right), shown with her son, Jimmy,

and a friend, was slain in a similar manner. An entry in

the notebook lost by Mrs. Trammell’s killer pointed to
his possible implication in the Castle death.

seta.

| | 32 FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

I was working all available men in relays,
bringing in employes and residents of the
hotel. Other crews swept through Grant
Park and the Loop rounding up suspicious
characters. Mr, and Mrs. Robert Barry, mem-
bers of a theatrical troupe who lived in Room
252, said they had heard nothing during the
early hours of Sunday morning. They had
come home, they said, at about two A. M. and
had gone right to bed. Occupants of neigh-
boring rooms readily accounted for them-
selves, as did all other residents of the hotel.
A faint ray of light glimmered when the de-
tail working on the employes of the hotel
reported from the South Side. The telephone
caller was Detective Leo Lindstrom.

“I’m out here with John McMahon at the
Indiana Hotel, 216 East Thirty-first Street,”
he said. “We're looking for a Negro named
Arthur Pinckney, the night porter at the State
Hotel. Bon says he got through work about
seven o'clock this morning, but he hasn't
come home here yet.”

“You plant right there and wait.for him in
case he does show," I directed. I hastened to
Captain O'Connor and the others with the in-
formation.

“That may mean a lot,” said Captain Gil-
bert. “Seems funny that he didn't zo home.”

“Yes, there may be something to it,’ replied
Captain O'Connor. “I think we'd better get
that clerk in here for some more questions
about Pinckney.” :

Bon, however, gave the night porter an ex-
cellent recommendation.

“He’s a hard working boy, and I’ve never
known him to get the least bit out of line
over women, gambling, stealing or anything

PROOF OF CRIME?

It was this notebook, dropped on the fire
escape of the State Hotel, that led to the
capture. The entry was significant.

else,” said Bo
Wait a minut
thing. Can Iu

I pushed it
State Hotel a:
called. There v

“Hello, Mr.

Do you remem
who tried to g
he was a color
desk. ... Well
quarters? Ok:
He hung uj
“T could kic
he said. ‘Last
had been pro
but the man
Schumacher f
He thought it
turned it over
He had bar
phone rang. It
“McMahon
ing him in,” h
Because the
pect actually
arrital of Pi
facing a batt
nervous, but
murder exce}
Lindstrom an
“I got thro
Mr. Bon says.
borhood for a
This afternoc
baseball gam
waitin’ for m
That was °

Thor
railrc
old »

‘men in relays,
esidents of the
through Grant
up suspicious
vt Barry, mem-
» lived in Room
ling during the
ing. They had
‘two aA. M. and
saints of neigh-
ted for them-
ts of the hotel.
i when the de-
s of the hotel
The telephone
strom,
«Mahon at the
v-tirst Street,”
Negro named
‘ter at the State
zh work about
but he hasn't

wait for him in
!. I hastened to
‘rs with the in-

d Captain Gil-
dn't go home.”
wu toit,’ replied
ve'd better get
nore questions

it porter an ex-

and I've never
bit out of line
ng or anything

{E?

d on the fire
at led to the
ignificant.

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE 33

else,” said Bon. “Not like a lot of these shiftless—-—
Wait a minute! By golly, I clean forgot about some-
thing. Can I use your telephone?”

I pushed it across the desk to him. He dialed the
State Hotel and directed that a “Mr. Schumacher” be
called. There was a pause. Then:

“Hello, Mr. Schumacher. This is Bon, the room clerk.
Do you remember telling me last Sunday about the fellow
who tried to get into your room? .... Yes, sure, you said

quarters? Okay!”

He hung up the receiver and turned to us.

“IT could kick myself for not remembering that sooner,”
he said. ‘“‘Last Sunday, Schumacher told me that a Negro
had been prowling on the fire escape. He yelled at him,
but the man ran down and got away. Later that day,
Schumacher found a notebook on the fire escape landing.
He thought it had fallen from an upstairs window and he
turned it over to me.”

He had barely finished this explanation when the tele-
phone rang. It was Leo Lindstrom again.

“McMahon and I grabbed Pinckney and we're bring-
ing him in,” he said. “We'll be there in a few minutes.”

Because their report concerned a flesh and blood sus-
pect actually in custody, we turned our attention to the
arrival of Pinckney, and it was not long until he was
facing a battery of stern inquisitors. He was extremely
nervous, but he insisted that he knew nothing of the
murder except what had been told him by Sergeants
Lindstrom and MeMahon on the way into the station.

“I got through at seven o'clock this mornin’ just like
Mr. Bon says,” he insisted. “I bummed around the neigh-
borhood for a while, and then I went to a burlesque show.
This afternoon I was over to Grant Park and watched the
baseball games. Then I went home and found the law
waitin’ for me.”

That was his story and he stuck to it stubbornly. As

GREETED BY—TRAGEDY

Thomas Trammell returned from a two-day
railroad run to find that his twenty-four-year-
old wife had been horribly done to death.

he detailed the places he had been, detectives were sent
to seek verification of his statements. Since that perform-
ance wus to take considerable time, we finally sent
Pinckney to a cell pending a complete investigation. He
was at the moment the best lead we had.

“Well, let’s get back to Bon and the notebook on the
fire escape,” said Captain O'Connor as Pinckney was led
away to the lockup. He directed that Bon and the hotel
guest he had telephoned be brought into the room. The
latter introduced himself as William Schumacher, fifty-
seven years old, a sheet metal worker and a permanent
resident at the hotel.

“It happened last Sunday morning,” said Schumacher.
“I live in Room 152, that’s right off the fire escape on
the floor below the one where the woman was murdered.
It was hot, and I don't believe I was sleeping soundly.
Anyhow, the screech of the window as someone slid it up
brought me wide awake. There was light enough for me
to see a man climb in over the window sill, and when
he raised his head, I saw he was colored,

“T yelled, ‘Get out of here, you , or I’ll blow your
head off!’ He slid right back out the window, and I could
hear a scraping on the fire escape. I jumped out of bed
and ran to the window, but I could barely see him in the
darkness as he went down the bottom stairway. He ran
south to Harrison Street, turned east and was gone. I
closed the window, locked it and went back to bed.

“On that same afternoon, I was still thinking about the
prowler. I opened the window to look down through the
fire escape platform into the alley. And there, lying right
under my nose was-—this!”’ :

He tossed a small pocket memorandum book on the
table. It was the type that is loaded with perforated
blocks of paper. Captain O’Connor picked it up and
opened the cover gingerly.

“Very worn, old and dirty,” he observed.

“There were two cigars lying on top of it,’ volunteered
Schumacher. “I thought the (Continued on page 96)

MRS. TRAMMELL'S SLAYER

The long, sinewy fingers of this six-foot
Negro choked Mary Louise Trammell to
death. His name is revealed in the story.

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

PANTHER MAN!

(Continued from page 33)

stuff had fallen from an upper window,
and so I took it to Mr. Bon at the desk.”

“Everyone on the upper floors dis-
claimed owning it,” put in the clerk.

Captain O’Connor was going through
the boqk page by page.

“A bunch of telephone numbers to
keep you and your boys busy, Pete,” he
said to me without raising his eyes.
“Ah, what’s this?”

A piece of light cardboard had flut-
tered from between the pages to land
on the table.

“A lJaundry check from the South
Side Laundry Company, 2820 South
Wabash Avenue,” said Captain O’Con-
nor. “That’s in the Pekin Inn district
right in the heart of the black belt.
That will have to be investigated,
too.”

He passed the notebook and the
laundry ticket across to me.

“Ag boss dick of this district, you've
got a lot of work ahead of you, Pete,”
he said grimly. “It may all lead to
nothing, but we’ve got to chase down
évery lead no matter how thin.”

“We'll follow up everything,” I an-
swered. “However, on the face of it, I
don’t think the same prowler—if the
notebook did belong to him—-would
come back to the spot where he raised
some heat a week before.”

Everyone present agreed with this
theory. We stiJl had an unsolved mur-
der on our hands, however, and so I
put the plainclothes detail to work
checking back on every telephone
number listed in the notebook. There
were fifteen of them, and the penciled
notations were so worn that many were
indecipherable. We studied each pos-
sible combination, however, and every
number we traced was located in the
vast black belt on the South Side. It
was discouraging work, and the stream
of reports from the men in the field
were almost identical.

“This telephone is located in a room-
ing house at such and such an address,”
they would report. “It’s the only one
in the block, and forty different peo-
ple living in the neighborhood get their
calls here.”

“All right,” I would reply. “Get the
names of the forty and look them over.
At least one of them knows the man
who owns that notebook!”

wo this work was going forward,
Sergeants Lindstrom and McMa-
hon, the detectives who had brought
Pinckney in, entered the station house
with a visitor.

“This young woman ran out in the
street at Van Buren and Wabash Ave-

nue and waved us down,” said Ser- |

geant McMahon. “We'll let her tell you
what she told us.”

The girl, a pretty brunette, spoke up
with perfect composure.

“T read in the newspaper how this
Mrs. Trammell was murdered at. the
State Hotel,’ she said. “My name is

Mary Veiger and I run the switch-
board at the Lorraine Hotel at Wabash
and Van Buren. Remember how hot it
was last Thursday night? Well, there
wasn’t a breath of air stirring when I
went to my room—No. 307—shortly
after midnight. The window was open,
and I remember wondering what made
the curtains move. I thought it was my
imagination. I undressed slowly and
lay down on the bed, but not as I
usually do—I generally have my back
to the window. While I was looking full
at the window, the curtains parted
slowly.

“There before me was the ugliest
face I have ever seen! It was a black
face, and the eyes were big with the
whites showing. It was like seeing a
wild man. I was just petrified with
fright, and I couldn't move—until the
man slipped into the room. Then I
jumped out of bed and ran out into
the hall screaming.

“The bell boys and the clerk came
running up. I told them about the
Negro, and they went into my room.
They found a short steel crowbar lying
on the bed. That was all. There was no
other trace of the man.”

“Was any report made to the police
on that?” demanded Captain O’Con-
nor.

“No, the hotel thought it would cause
unfavorable publicity,” replied the
girl.

“Would you know that Negro again
if you saw him?” asked Lieutenant
Irlanson.

She shuddered and exclaimed, “I'll
never forget that terrible sweating
face as long as I live! He had an ugly
scar on his right cheek. It ran down
almost to the middle of his chin. He
was a big man, too. I could pick him
out of a thousand Negroes.”

“We now begin to close in on a more
definite theory,” said Captain Gilbert
after Miss Veiger had left. ‘The hy-
pothesis is that the murderer is a Ne-
gro, and we have a good description
of him, The notebook begins to look
better.”

Shortly after dawn the telephone
rang. The caller was my partner, Ser-
geant Colman.

“Well, Pete, we’re getting places,”
he announced. s‘I got the manager of
the laundry and he’s turned vhe bundle
over to me. I left a detail here to grab
anybody who calls for it.”

“Bring it over here, Jim,” I directed.

The package, which contained sev-
eral gaudy shirts and a pair of sport
trousers, had been left at the laundry
office by a Negro who had given the
name of Craig. No particular attention
had been paid to the name, because
the parcel would be turned over to
anyone presenting the claim check.

“Now if we can find Craig-—” began
Sergeant Colman.

“You've got him!” interrupted a
voice from the doorway. Startled, we

looked around to find Sergeant Dono-
hue from the bureau of identification.

“No, we haven't,” said Lieutenant
Erlanson, looking over the list of those
being held in connection with“ the
crime.

“Yes, you have,” insisted Sergeant
Donohue. He called out a name on the
list and laid a card on the table. “That
bird’s right name is Craig. He’s got a
minor record. The prints don’t lie.”

Craig was hauled out of the lockup
in a hurry. Our feelings can be imag-
ined when we found him to be an un-
dersized Negro boy; the shirts and the
trousers were many sizes too large for
him. Hope died again as he was
marched out the door and back to the
lockup.

All day Monday the search went on
with at least fifty detectives working
through the black belt. It was Jim Col-
man who again struck pay dirt, how-
ever. He telephoned late in the after-
noon to report.

“One of these phone numbers
brought us out here to see Mrs. A. L.
Martin, 5430 Indiana Avenue,” he said.
“She says that a girl, a cabaret enter-
tainer named Audrey Tatum, used to
live here, and that she got calls from
a fellow named Craig.”

“Where’s Audrey now?” I demanded.

“Moved away from here, but we'll
dig her up,” said Jim confidently. “Call
you again.”

Later he telephoned to say that he
had found the girl working in a cabaret
at State and Twenty-ninth Streets,
around the corner from the South Side
Laundry Company.

“She says, though, that she doesn’t
remember a man named Craig,” Col-
man reported with a strong note of
disappointment in his voice. “She
knows a dozen boys with knife scars.
We're starting a tour of these black
and tan joints with her, on the chance
that she might recognize him if she
sees him. I think she’s on the square.”

He rang off, and for hours led the
girl through the night spots where Chi-
cago Negroes go for entertainment.
We were awaiting his next report when
Captain O'Connor slapped his thigh.

“By all that’s holy, fhat may be it!”
he shouted.

We looked at him in astonishment.

“The shirts, boys, the shirts! Bring
that dame in and let her see the shirts!"

Fifteen minutes after Sergeant Col-
man called with his next report he
walked into headquarters with the
Tatum girl. She was a pretty, brown-
skinned girl, whose dancing eyes were
proof of her ability as a black belt
hoteha girl. She took one look at the
pile of laundry.

“Land sakes, folks, that’s James
Gray’s stuff!" she exclaimed. She fin-
pered the gaudiest shirt in the pile.
“That's the only shirt like that in Chi-
cago! Hot dawg! That boy went to town
on clothes!”

“Are you sul
Gilbert.

“Sure, I'm su:

with a scar dov
face. He used t
but he lost his
makes a little,
I ain't heard fr:
“Where does
“I don't knov

him, though. A:

couple of times

HAT volunt

prompt act!
bureau of ident:
through their «
000,000 police ;
bearing the na
quite high, but
picked out one

“That’s him,
of certainty.
The record ¢
traffic violatic
months before.
fire escape! Alt
nighk we rous¢
at the Lorrain
glance at the p:
“That's the |
from the wind
you I'd know |
Fingerprint
ments of the s
out over the px
detective on th
plete descripti:
rowed down c
at this point th
one of the most
officials in the
ment, sounded
“He may be
the rooms of !
macher, but w:
nect him wit}
Trammell,” he
that every ma!
“You're right
ter not jump to
tain Gilbert. “P
evidence, and
in this case.”
Through wh:
night, we comb:
belt, seeking th:
sons who knew
seen him recen
to tell us his p!
hours passed,
fronted once n
Noon Wednesc
still we had ni
At about 2:2
over a report t!
desk sergeant
swinging door
dor of the Poli:
of the corner o
of a tall, gang]
explicable reas
den jump, and
terest swept
from my mind
head on my !
my eyes to stt
more closely,
valler intently

“Are:you sure?” demanded Captain
Gilbert.

“Sure, I'm sure. He’s a big black boy
with a scar down the right side of his
face. He used to run policy out south,
but he lost his dough. Whenever he
makes a little, he calls me to step out.
I ain't heard from him lately, though.”

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

desk. I had not as yet had a clear view
of both sides of his face.

“Take care of you in just a moment,”
I said, apparently without looking up.

He paused before the desk irreso-
lutely, and then swung his head to stare
about the public room. And then I
saw it!

' 97

huge knotted hands. He was nearly six
feet tall and built like a panther—all
muscle!

“Well, of course, you probably. can
answer any question we ask you,” I
countered. “Will you pardon me for a
moment?”

He nodded his acquiescence. I walked

on “Where does he live?” A livid scar ran down his right cheek into, the next office and picked up the
he “I don’t know. Lots of people know almost to the middle of the chin! police telephone. Hurriedly I told one
him, though. And he’s been pinched a “What can I do for you?” I asked. of my men in the next room to summon

i’ couple of times.” I could now see his full face. It was all those concerned in the investiga-
he undoubtedly as ugly as the Veiger girl - tion. I returned to my office, and after
ai THat volunteered remark brought ad described it, and it was the face of explaining that I had some other work
my prompt action. Operatives of the the police photograph! He stared at me. to dispose of, took care of some rou-
bureau of identification began combing “You're James Gray!” I shot the re- tine matters. He sat at the end of the

_ through their collection of nearly 3,- mark at him. table meanwhile, and said nothing,
ig- 000,000 police photographs. The stack “No, my name is Rufo Swain.” In the next office, Captain O’Connor
_ bearing the name “James Gray” was He answered so straightforwardly was awaiting the arrival of those I had

he quite high, but the Tatum girl quickly | and with such perfect diction that I summoned. When finally the door
for picked out one likeness. was momentarily taken aback. opened and my commander motioned
ie “That's him,” she said with an air “But you've used the name of James to me, I walked our voluntary prisoner
We of certainty. Gray," I said, smiling. ; into the middle of a veritable ring of
The record card listed an arrest for _He looked away, and I asked, “That’s inquisitors. Captains O’Connor and
ori trafic violation atid another, four right, isn’t it?” ; Gilbert, Prosecutor Meyers, Lieutenant
ng months before, for prowling on a hotel He looked at me again. “Yes, per- - Erlanson, Sergeant Colman and I made
i1- fire escape! Although it was after mid- — fectly right,” he said, taking a deep up the group. Captain Gilbert began
we night, we roused Miss Veiger from bed breath. “I — the newspapers that (he duestiining, ang: he: waswed” ie
cr- at the Lorraine Hotel, She took one "he police were looking for me, and I words. He tossed the cheap memoran-
glance at the photograph. came in to see what was wanted.” dum book across the table to Swain.
ers “That's the face that looked at me Again the diction was perfect. I Is that your book? he rasped.
L. from the window ” she cried “] told sapped qulcnsy arqund and opened wen stadia it nonchalantly and

‘id. ee thaw thar saan’ ° the door leading to our inner offices. said, “Yes, sir, it is. ;
epic bata ; " ee “Come on in,” I invited. “When did you have it last?”

i to Fingerprint records and measure- He sauntered through the door and “Three weeks ago. It was stolen from
am ments of the suspect were soon going preceded me into the next room where me while I was sleeping in Grant Park.
. out over the police teletype, and every __[ motioned him to a chair. Some thief slit my pocket and took the

ied detective on the case was given a com- “I came in here to clear myself,” he notebook with eighty-seven cents.”
e'}l plete description, The search had nar- said. “I’m no bum; I’m twenty-seven Captain Gilbert stared at him im-
ral! rowed down considerably, and it was years old and a high school graduate passively and said, with apparent dis-
‘in at this point that Lieutenant Erlanson, with two years of college. I went to belief, “And the thief carried that

one of the most astute and painstaking Arkansas Baptist College in Little | worthless old notebook around with
Re officials in the history of the depart- | Rock. Arkansas, where I played foot- him until he dropped it on the fire es-
bela ment, sounded a warning. ball and was on the track team.” cape of the State Hotel a week ago last
sph “He may be the man who entered I took in his powerful frame, his Sunday!”

‘ the rooms of Miss Veiger and Schu- ‘

, macher, but we have ‘nothing to con-

vet nect him with the murder of Mrs. .

-Ol~ Trammell,” he cautioned. “I'd suggest x
of that every man work very carefully.” Strangler Re enacts Slaying

She “You're right, Lieutenant, we'd bet- -
rs ter not jump to conclusions,” said Cap- At D: ‘ ae ye

lack tain Gilbert. ‘Prosecutions are built on ay i 3

ance evidence, and that’s what we'll need
she in this case.”
re. Through what remained of Tuesday
the night, we combed the South Side black
shi- belt, seeking the suspect. Scores of per-

| ent sons who knew the man said they had
| nen seen him recently, but none were able
| he to tell us his place of residence. As the
it! hours passed, we seemed to be con-
fronted once more with a blind alley,

it. Noon Wednesday came and went, and

ring still we had no trace of him.
ts!" At about 2:30 p. m., I was yawning
Col- over a report that lay before me on the

he desk sergeant’s counter when the
the swinging door leading from the corri-
wh- dor of the Police Building opened. Out
‘ore of the’corner of my eye I got a glimpse
belt of a tall, gangling Negro. For some in-
the explicable reason my heart gave a sud-
den jump, and a seething wave of in-
nes terest swept fatigue and_ sleepiness
fin- from my mind and body. I dropped my
pile head on my hand as though shading ae ste vibitey econ “ 5 i

Chi- my eyes to study the outspread report The slayer of Mary Loulse Trammell returned to the scene of his crime—but only

wwh more closely, but I was watching the to re-enact the deed for Detective James West (left) of the Chicago Police Depart-

ment. A laundry check was the clue that trapped Mrs. Trammell’s strangler.

caller intently as he advanced to the

Suill grinning, he raised his right hand,
and before Mrs. IXoll could utter a sound,
brought a rock crashing down against her

face. Strong, prehensile fingers then
closed about her throat.
At that instant a seream echoed

throughout the hospital. Another patient
had awakened in time to sce the brutal
attempt to murder Mrs, Koll. The night
nurse followed by several other hospital
attendants, rushed into the ward. At
their entrance the intruder turned and
fled through the French doors, leaving
his weapon behind.

Detective Lieutenants Tom Bailey and
Burt Corliss arrived shortly afterward in
answer to a frantic summons from the
hospital superintendent. Radio car off-
cers who had also responded to the call
searched the vicinity for blocks around,
but found no trace of the early morning
marauder. :

Mrs. Koll, it was found, was painfully
but not critically injured. After ~ her
wounds had been treated and she had
partly recovered from the shock she had
received,
assailant.

“THE was tall and thin and very dark-

complexioned,” she said, “He had on
dark clothing and a slouch hat. It seems
to me he wore a turtle neck sweater, but
I can’t be certain.”

Hospital attendants had had only the
briefest glimpse of the man’s back as he
made his escape, and were unable to add
anything to Mrs. Koll’s description.

The rough surface of the. rock, of
course, showed no fingerprints, nor did
the woodwork of the door through which
he had entered.

Later that morning—January 25th,
1937—Captain H. J. Wallis, commander
of Central Homicide Squad, frowned as
he scanned the report submitted by
Bailey and Corliss concerning the assault
upon Mrs. Koll. He took it to Chief of
Detectives Joseph F. Taylor.

“Chief,” he began, “it looks as if we
may be in for some trouble.
night there was an unprovoked attack
upon a woman patient in a local hos-
pital by a man described as a negro or a
Mexican. It’s been my experience that
when a crime like that is committed, you
can expect more of them. Remember
Dugger, the ape man?”

“Only too well. Did you get a descrip- .

tion?” Chief Taylor asked.
“Of a sort, but pretty vague. All we
know is that he’s tall, slender and dark-

Captain John Prendergast, who played

}

an outstanding role in the hunt for

she endeavored to describe her.

During the ©

Master Wetective
skinned. Not a fingerprint or anything
else that might he!p. He struck the wo-
a with a rock and then tried to strangle
ier.’

“Sounds like a moron. You’d better
send out a teletype instructing all radio
car officers to be on the lookout for a man
of that description. And have them pay
special attention to hospitals. He may
try to repeat.”

Eight davs later it appeared that Cap-
tain Wallis’ prediction had materialized.
The fourth-floor maid at a hotel in down-
down Los Angeles had knocked several
times at the door of Room 415 where Mrs.
Elizabeth Ries, elderly visitor from Akron,
Ohio, had resided for the past month.
Mrs. Ries was always up and about early,
the maid reflected; yet, here it was four
o’clock in the afternoon, and there was
not a sign of life coming from her room.
The worried woman sought advice from
the hotel housekeeper.

“T can’t get in to do her room,” she
said, “and I’m afraid she’s sick.”

“We'll take a look,” the housekeeper re-

" plied briskly.

Together they entered Mrs. Ries’ apart-
ment by means of a pass key. Finding
the room: in semi-darkness, the maid

Rufo Swain

switched on a light. Both women stood
rooted to the spot at the sight that met
their eyes.

“Mrs. Ries!”

There was no response from the slight
figure sitting there so quietly, eyes closed.
-“She’s dead!” the maid whispered.

The housekeeper went closer. “No,
she’s still breathing.”

A few minutes later Dr. Wallace Dodge,
of the Receiving Hospital, was notified
by the hotel clerk that a woman guest
had suffered a hemorrhage and was ap-
parently in serious condition.

“T’}] send an ambulance,” Dr. Dodge
replied.

The victim of the “hemorrhage” was re-
moved to a hospital, where X-ray pho-
tographs disclosed that her skull was frac-
tured from the top of the head to the
base of the left ear. The patient was
still unconscious.

Informed of these facts, Dr. Dodge at
once reported the matter to Central
Homicide Detail. Captain Wallis as-
signed Detective Lieutenants R. EH. Giese
and Thomas R. Bryan to investigate. In
the victim’s room they found ample evi-
dence of a brutal assault. At the foot of
the bed Jay the weapon with which Mrs.
Ries had been bludgeoned. It was an
ordinary building brick.

The detectives telephoned Headquarters
for a fingerprint man and a photographer,
then began their search for physical evi-
de:

The bureau in the rgom in which Mrs.

Rose Valdez was brutally murdered is

seen as it was powdered for finger-

prints in the hope of finding a clue to
her slayer

window. “Easy enough to see how he got
in.” he commented. “Stepped through
this window from the fire escape. I can
see a woman’s purse on the next landing.”
Carefully he descended the iron stairs and
retrieved the purse, the contents of which
were scattered over the fire escape.

BRYAN found the faint impression of
a shoe on the window-sill, and several
smudged fingerprints; but it was appar-
ent that the latter were of no value. When
the expert from Headquarters arrived he
dusted .all inside surfaces of the room.
“Looks as if these prints had been delib-
erately smeared,” he remarked. “There
are plenty of them, but none clear enough
to classify. The brick shows nothing, and
is useless as far as prints are concerned.”

Several pictures were taken of the room
and its furnishings, after which Bryan
and Giese left for the hospital in the
hope that Mrs. Ries might now be able
to talk.

“Who struck you?” Giese asked, bend-
ing over the patient.

A jumble of incoherent words issued
from the woman’s bruised lips. Again
and again the question was repeated un-
til it became obvious that her mutterings
were not attempts to reply, but merely
the unintelligible ramblings of a delir-
ious person.

Leaving their cards with the attending
physician, the officers asked to be notified
when, and if, Mrs. Ries regained con-
sciousness. Incidentally, she remained in
a state of coma for six weeks, only to
find upon emerging from it that she was
completely deaf in the left ear and that
her eyesight was permanently impaired.
She could give no description of her as-
sailant, as she had been sound asleep
when the murderous attack took place.
She had no recollection of having left her
bed, nor of seating herself in the chair in
which she was found.

Chief Taylor, highly incensed over the
brutal assaults on two defenseless women,
issued strict orders for uniformed officers
and radio car men to increase their vigi-
lance in so far as hotels, hospitals and
apartment houses were concerned.

“A dangerous maniac is at large,” he
told Captain Wallis, “and if he isn’t cap-
tured, I’m afraid there will be some kill-
ings. Make arrangements to have all
downtown hotels warn women guests to
loop thelr windows locked if those win-

April, 1939

The Chief’s orders were promptly car-
ried out. However, on February 14th,
H. D. Nash, guest at a well-known local
hostelry, reported to police that during the
night a burglar had visited the room oc-
cupied by him and his wife.

“He stole five dollars from my trouser
pocket and two dollars from my“ wife’s
purse, after climbing through the window
from the fire escape. He left behind him a
battered felt hat and part of a brick.”

Detective Lieutenants Joseph B. Cur-
tis and J. I. Quinn, of the Burglary De-
tail, had responded to Nash’s call. As he
talked, they recalled vividly the attack
on Mrs. Ries in a near-by hotel less than
two weeks before.

“You'll never know how lucky you are,”
Quinn remarked dryly. “The last time
this burglar left a brick for a calling-card,
his victim went to the hospital. She’s
still there.” . .

As in the previous instances, a detailed
search was made for fingerprints, with
negative results. Quinn and = Curtis
turned over to Captain Wallis the brick
and the battered felt hat.

“The criminal used the same modus
operandi that he did on the Ries job,”
Curtis said. ‘“We thought these things
might come in handy as evidence some-
time.”

‘Two days later a second description
of the suspect was obtained.

At six o’clock on the morning of Feb-
ruary 16th, Miss Lola Torres was asleep
in her ground-floor apartment on South
Santee Street. Awakened by the sound
of an ash-tray clattering to the floor, she
sat up in bed, her heart hammering. As
she watched, a dark shape started to
climb through her window.

With a scream of terror Miss Torres
leaped from her bed and ran into the
hallway. The intruder halted midway
through the window, then dropped to the
ground. A woman in an adjoining apart-
ment, who had heard Miss Torres scream,
rushed out in time to see a tall, gangling

negro running toward Maple Avenue.

Questioned by detectives later that morn-
ing, she described the suspect as about
nee years of age and six feet
tall.

“T didn’t get a good look at his face,
and I was too excited to notice what he
had on, but I know he was a negro. He
was loosely built, too, and his arms
dangled out of his sleeves,”

This description, while helpful, was
hardly sufficient on which to base an iden-
tification. It fitted hundreds of colored
men. However, all officers were ordered
to observe carefully any suspicious move-
ments on the part of negroes of that type.

Following close on the heels of these
outrages came the murder that Chief
Taylor had foreseen—a murder which for
sheer wantonness has seldom been
equaled in Los Angeles criminal annals.

At eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning,
March 2nd, Mrs Glen Fowler, manager
of an apartment building on Stanford
Avenue, was disturbed by the prolonged
crying of a baby. For an hour she had
listened to the piteous wails coming from
Apartment 4, and she now decided to
investigate before the other tenants com-
plained.

The apartment in question was occu-
pied by Florencio Valdez, his wife, Rose,
and their baby. Mrs. Fowler knocked on
the door. For an instant the erying in-
side ceased, then was resumed with re-
newed vigor. Mrs. Fowler knocked again,
and, receiving no response, opened the
door with her pass-key.

A dreadful scene confronted her. <A
woman, partly nude, lay in the center of
the bed. A pillow covered her face; the
she i beneath her head was erimson. In

Master Detective

—the MILDNESS
of fine old
Kentucky Burley

4 aged in wood

¥ —the FLAVOR

y of pure maple

sugar for extra
good taste

Velvet packs easy in a pipe
Rolls smooth in a cigarette
Better tobacco
for both

its erib adjoining the bed lay the Valdez
baby, sobbing lustily. After one horri-
fied moment Mrs. Iowler seized the in-
fant snd ran from the room,

“Call the police!” she shouted to one of
ner lodgers. “There’s been a murder!”

Depositing the baby on her own bed,
she rushed back to the Valdez apartment,
reusing to permit any one to enter the
room until the arrival of police. :

Detective Lieutenant V. Ik. Apt, of
Newton Street Detective Bureau, reached
the scene simultaneously with Radio Car
Officers Earl Bledsoe and D. E. Ward.
After a brief preliminary examination
Apt hurried to a telephone to report to
Captain H. L. Garrott.

“A woman has been beaten to death.
Get some men up here, will vou? We'll
want to take some pictures and cheek for
fingerprints.”

ARROTT immediately notified Cap-

F tain Wallis and requested that detec-
tives from Central Homicide be sent to
the Stanford Avenue address. Within ten
minutes Detective Licutenants R. F. Un-
derwood, Aldo Corsini and George J. Hill,
accompanied by L. C. Davis, police pho-
tographer and George Vincent, fingerprint
clerk, arrived at the murder apartment.

Not. only murder and burglary had been
perpetrated in this room; the young
mother had been assaulted as well. The
imprint of a man’s rubber heel showed on
the footboard. A blue silk shp was wrap-
ped around the victim’s chest, indicating
she had been in the act of dressing for the
day when the attack took place.

The room was in complete disorder.
Dresser-drawers had been opened and
ransacked. A woman's purse had been
rifled and tossed into a rocking-chair. A
suitcase, its contents spilled on the floor,
had been pawed through. :

Upon entering the kitchen the officers
observed that one window, held open by
an ordinary two-by-four, eighteen inches
in length, provided easy access tothe
kitchen from the ground outside. This
stick was carefully examined, but showed
no signs of having been used to inflict
the fatal wounds.

Finally Photographer Davis pulled from
underneath the sink a cardboard box
partly filled with refuse.

“Here you are, boys!” In his hand he
held part of a stained paving brick.

The men from Central Homicide paled
as they looked at the grim reminder
which the “brickbat burglar” had left.
Each man felt, somehow, a personal re-
sponsibility in the matter. Hach realized
that if the killer were not speedily ap-
prehended, more murders would follow.

Pictures were taken and every article
of furniture was dusted for fingerprints.
As usual, no clear prints were found,

By what uncanny luck did this vicious
slayer avoid leaving his prints on some
of the woodwork he touched? That he
did not wear gloves was attested to by
the fact that bloodstaimed smears made
by bare hands were everywhere—but_ in
each instance they were smears, not im-
pressions with patterns that could be de-
veloped. :

Eagerly the officers examined the
ground beneath the kitchen window. One
clear footprint appeared; but it, they
discovered, had been made by the land-
lady’s husband.

Mrs. Alice Nelson who, with her fifteen-
vear-old daughter, Jennie, occupied an
adjoining apartment, contributed a sig-
nificant bit of information. She said that
at. five-thirty that morning she heard
some one raising a window alongside the
bed in which her daughter slept. In the
mistaken belief that Jennie herself had

: ‘ Ctr } ryt '
raised if. she had felt no alarm Phe girl,

Master Detective
questioned, stated that she, too, had
heard the sheht noise, but had assumed
it had been made by her mother and had
not even opened her eyes to investigate.
That the girl had escaped the terrible fate
of Mrs, Rose Valdez seemed almost mirac-
ulous,

Although morally certain that the mur-
der had been committed by the now no-
torious “brickbat burglar,” the investigat-
ing officers were anxious to interview the
victim’s husband. Located without diffi-
culty in the resiaurant where he was em-
ployed, he was brought to Headquarters
for questioning. The young Mexican al-
most collapsed when informed that his
wife was dead.

“My poor baby!” he cried, weeping
bitterly.

On regaining a measure of self-control.
he said that when he arose at five-thirty
that morning he observed that the kiteh-
en window was wide open—despite the
fact that before retiring he had placed the
two-by-four in a horizontal position, per-

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mitting an opening of only a few inches.

“Toasked my wile, Rose, if she put the
slick upright Jast night and she said no.”
he explained. “I couldn’t figure it out.
but before leaving for work this morning
at 6:15, I replaced it as it had been the
night before, leaving only a little space
fOr nt”

What had actually oceurred was fairly
obvious. The slayer, intent upon entering
the Nelson apartment, had abandoned
the idea when he heard Valdez moving
about in his own apartment. Then, after
seeing Valdez leave the building, it had
been a simple matter for the black-
hearted killer to climb through the Val-
dez kitchen window and commit his crime.

After the initial investigation. Captain
Wallis assigned Detective Lieutenants R.
I, Dominguez and E. J. Romero to the
case, Instructing them to leave no stone
untarned in their efforts to apprehend the
murderer,

By this time every man in the Detee-
tive Bureau was fully aware of the fact
that an acute situation existed. It was
certain the “brickbat” killer would strike
again, but where and when? That he was
shrewd and cunning was evidenced by
the type of weapon used—a_ brick or
rock which precluded the possibility of
his fingerprints being found thereon. It
seemed reasonable, too, to believe that he
derived an egotistical satisfaction out of
brazenly leaving his weapons at the scenes
of his crimes.

Early on the morning of March 27th.

Harry Steadman, of 515 Wall Street.
awakened to find a _ negro crawling

through the window of his room, brick in
hand.

“What are you doing there?” Stead-
man shouted furiously.

The intruder dropped the brick he
had been carrying and hastily backed
out of the window. He had disappeared
from sight before Steadman could get
his clothes on and start in pursuit.

Thwarted in this instance, the ape-like
prowler struck again the next night, and
this time he was careful to select a wo-
man for his victim. -

Two days before, Mrs. Zoe Damerell.
thirty-five. had accepted a position as as-
sistant manager of a somewhat preten-
tious apartment house located on Ingra-
ham Street. and had taken up her resi-
dence in Apartment 105 on the ground
floor. On the night of March 28th she
retired early, weary from her new duties.

It was three o’clock in the morning
when she awoke to a drowsy realization
that she must have suffered a frightful
nightmare. In her dream some one had
tried to strangle her; even now she was
choking and gasping for breath.

Hiv put her hand to her forehead. Her

head ached hormbly. By a supreme
effort she reached up and pulled the cord
of the night-lamp over her bed. Her hand
was stained crimson. Overcome by
shock and nausea, she lapsed into merci-
ful unconsciousness.

Is the multiple slayer in the room with
Mrs. Damerell? Will help arrive in time
to save her; or is she doomed to die at
the hands of this monster of murder?

Don’t miss the third gripping installment
of this story, in which the police of two
cities, faced with a seemingly unsolvable
problem, tirelessly continue their hunt for
the elusive killer as he carries on his sa-
tanic work, adding new ‘victims to his
growing list. Not knowing where the
“brickbat burglar’ will strike next, the
authorities, nevertheless, make new and
amazing discoveries. Appearing in the
May issue of MASTER DETECTIVE, on all
14th,

s Aoril

3
Wows c<tans
SiG BATES

April, 1939

drawing too close for comfort—the killer
and his heinous deeds vanished from the
Chicago scene.

Weeks passed without the seemingly
mad murderer striking again. Other
forms of crime brought fresh investiga-
tions to engage the attention of law en-
forcement officers in the nation’s second
largest city. The murder of Mrs. Castle
and the attacks on other women were all
but, forgotten by the public mind.

In police stations, throughout the win-
ter of 1936-37, however, the Castle murder
case continued to be a subject of fre-
quent speculation. Few were the police-
men, from rookie to seasoned veteran,
who did not often mull over details of
the shocking “Mirror Murder Mystery,”
and express theories concerning the
crime. Experienced detectives deduced
from the stories of victims the following
data concerning the hunted man:

1. He was either a negro—or a white
man disguised in blackface makeup.

2. He was six feet tall or more. had long
arms and possessed unusual athletic abil-
ity.

3. He took some sort of fiendish de-
light in plaguing the police by leaving his
“trademark’—a brick—behind him.

4. He evidently was the most cowardly

sort of rat, since he preyed only on de-
fenseless women.

5. He had been known—and feared, for
some reason—by Mrs. Castle.

Chief of Detectives Sullivan frequently
warned his men not to relax their vigi-
lance.

“We haven’t heard the last of him,’
the Chief declared. ‘Some day we'll find
another woman bludgeoned to death with
a brick. Such killers are that way—
they never lose their lust for murder.”

The detective head voiced a_ belief
that the slayer had left Chicago and prob-
ably had been jailed in some other city
without being recognized. That would
account for the fact that no attacks with
his modus operandi had been reported
to the police.

“But he’ll be back with us before long,”
Sullivan predicted. “After all, Chicago
seems to be his favorite stamping ground.”

* Ok Ox

Note: The action of this story turns at
this point to Los Angeles, California. So
that readers may have the real, inside
details of California developments,
Master Detective has had the following
account as regards Los Angeles written by
M. Kelley Arnold, well-known contributor
to this magazine _-Ep.

T was three o’clock in the morning and

deep silence reigned in the hospital
corridors. Most of the patients were
asleep. One woman, however—Mrs. HH.
W. Ikoll—had undergone a major opera-
tion a few days before, and on this seem-
ingly endless night she found it difficult to
suppress the moans that rose to her lips.
She wished fervently that daylight would
come. Glancing at the three other wo-
men who oceupied beds in that same
ward, she envied them their ability to
find surcease from pain in sleep. At last
she, too, dozed fitfully.

A little while later something touched
her arm. She opened her eyes—and for
a moment thought she must be in the
throes of a nightmare. There, bending
over her cot, stood a man. Fiendishly he
grinned down at her, his white teeth
contrasting strangely with his dark skin.

Mrs. Ixoll opened her mouth to seream,
but her paralyzed vocal cords refused to
function. In the dim light shed by the
night-lamp she saw that the ternfving
apparition towering : above her was either

Y AX
ypyy MY? \

Master Wetective 55

NO CAMERAS TURN, AS
FILM-SHIP FIGHTS FOR LIFE

GRANDSON OF “BOUNTY” MUTINEER BRINGS SOUTH SEA
TRADER THROUGH REAL “*HURRICANE”’ TO MAKE MOVIE VERSION

“At two a.m. I decided to take in all sails,” writes

Captain George H. Simpson, technical advisor, acting as second
mate of the power schooner “Lanikai” bound from Seattle to San
Pedro for service in the South Seas movie “Hurricane.”

2) “The gale howled and shrieked like a thou-
sand devils...and at that moment the motor
stopped! We slid into the trough of mountain-
ous seas, the head sails blew out with a report
likea cannon, and the forward rigging snapped.
We lowered foresail and mainsail as quickly as
ay Ce possible, for the sea was rolling the masts out
of her...They must get that motor started!
© “As I stuck my head in the
engine-room hatch to urge the
engineers to hurry with re-
pairs, a seam opened in the
ship’s side flooding the gener-
ators and adding darkness to
our troubles, I darted on deck
to get the four ‘Eveready’ flash-
lights in my cabin just as the
main boom split with the crack
of a pistol shot. And as I re-
turned with the lights, there
came a splintering crash from
forward...the jib boom carried
away, hurling a sailor the
length of the foredeck as green
seas broke over us. But, thanks
to the flashlight, we got him.

@ “Lashing two of the lights in the engine
room and begging the engineers to hurry, I
went back on deck to play the other two lights
on the crew as they lashed down the writhing,
murderous wire rigging and rigged jury stays.
“Yes, those fresh DATED
‘Eveready’ batteries stood by
us though soaked and bat-
tered. At last the engine
coughed...then took hold.
The poor old ‘Lanikai’ lifted
herself out of the trough...
she and her crew were saved
... saved by the light from
"EVEREADY’ batteries!

(Signed) ; >
sre hS. Soy
FRESH BATTERIES LAST LONGER?:: Z0/ Fetthe DATE- "LING

NATIONAL CARBON COMPANY, INC., 30 East 42nd Street, New York, N. Y.
Unst of Union Carbide [Tg and Carbon Corporation

JUNE 1939

: ee

| 1

i mariona cAnion CO
eran’! ’

FOR BEST RESULTS
PUT IN SERVICE BEFORE

WHY WEAR GLASSES?

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Try Bernarr Macfadden’s eye course at our risk. You need send no money. Just write
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MACFADDEN BOOK CO Dec 840.4 cee F “2nd S+.. New York

Minor and Sergeant Molohan. It was
unanimously agreed that all forces
would unite in the common purpose of
seeking the arrest of the man who killed
Mildred Hallmark. An immediate re-
sult of this meeting was the most sweep-
ing roundup of known molesters of
women ever launched in Peoria.

“T want the activities of every one of
these fellows checked from A to Z,”
Nussbaum declared.

Late Monday afternoon, a tall,
bronzed young man presented himself
at the Peoria Chief’s office. His eyes
were red-rimmed and his face was hag-
gard and drawn.

“T’m Vincent Pilgrim,” he announced.

Genuinely surprised, for two officers
had been sent after him, Nussbaum
asked, ‘‘How did you get here so fast?”

“T took the bus as soon as I heard the
awful news,” the young man explained.

“But how did you learn about it so
soon?”

“My cousin, Mary Jane Drew, called
me.”

Plainly, Pilgrim was laboring under
an intense strain. Under the steadying
influence of the young Chief,, however,
he held his emotions in check and gave
a lucid account of his activities over the
week-end. “I haven’t been away from
home for two weeks,” he declared.

“When did you see Mildred for the
last time?” the officer queried.

“Two weeks ago.”

“How long have you known her?”

“About two years.” 4

“And you considered her your steady
girl?”

“T did,” the boy answered quietly.

Ma ke ae a Ral Bad ot De

“Have you quarreled with her re-
cently?”

“No, sir. We got along very well.”

“Did you have a rival?”

- Pilgrim shook his head. The officer
produced the letter in which the young
man had penned the warning. The
youth looked startled. “I hope you
didn’t take that seriously,” he said.
“Mildred knew how I meant it. I used
to tease her about Cletus. Why, he
never even asked her for a date.”

Although he was impressed by Pil-
grim’s conduct and appearance, Nuss-
baum was compelled to detain him
pending a check on his activities. Cletus
Delheimer, however, was promptly re-
leased.

When asked if he recalled any men
who in the past had paid unwelcome
attentions to his girl-friend, Pilgrim
named one, Steve Landry, an interior
decorator. “Mildred complained several
times to me that he parked his car near
her home and tried to get her to go rid-
ing with him,” the twenty-year-old
youth recalled. “She always refused,
but she.said he. was very persistent.”

Orders for Landry’s arrest were im-
mediately issued and that evening he
was taken into custody at his home. A
husky, blond youth, he at once admitted
that he had, unsuccessfully, made a
number of attempts to get Mildred Hall-
mark-to go riding with him.

“But I never meant her any harm,” he
insisted “I liked her, but I guess she
didn’t care much for me.”

When he was asked to account for his
activities over-the week-end, Landry
declared that he had visited friends in

@ The killer's diabolical shrewd-
ness was indicated by the fact
that this clothing was not torn
—it had been cut with scissors

and the City (Continued on page 81)

near-by Kewanee and Dixon and that
he did not return until late Sunday
night.”

A checkup of his alibi revealed that
he was telling the truth, and he was
released.

A torn and bloodstained shirt was
discovered a short distance from the
point where the slain girl’s body was
found. It had been stuffed inside a cul-
vert, near the watering trough, and was
recovered by Traffic Officer Robert
Koegel. It did not correspond in size
to any of those worn by suspects al-
ready in custody.

Late Monday night Detectives Ford
and Welty arrested Walter Latham, tal
twenty-two, A routine check of park- Be
ing lots, paint shops and garages re- ee
sulted in the discovery of his five-year-
old Oakland sedan undergoing a paint
job in a local garage. Examination of
the car revealed signs of the floorboards
having been recently scrubbed, and the
keen-eyed detectives noted what ap-
peared to be bloodstains below the latch
on the left front door. Latham was ee
questioned by Chief Nussbaum, Sheriff
Olson and State’s Attorney’s Investi-
gator Cavanaugh late that night.

He was a well-built young man with
an abundance of self-confidence. He rs
said, “I never even saw that Hallmark

BPO Leyte
Feil aan

girl.”

“Then suppose you tell us why you
were having your car painted?” Nuss- :
baum queried. “

“T’ve been planning to have that done
for a long time,” Latham replied. “I

; % HI
— at

guess you’d cal] it a coincidence.” vas clu
“What about those stains on the left Wearily
front panel of your door?” * 3, Decembx
The young man shrugged. “Maybe » only five
they’re grease marks,” he suggested. aH ni
“Perhaps,” Nussbaum said mildly. G Cc
“But until we know for certain we'll tf b
have to detain you.” Pas not seen 1
Latham asserted that he had attended wesree - for four
a picnic at Metamora, Illinois, the ment wa:
previous day with his parents, his It had
brother and a girl-friend. They had County t)
returned around nine o’clock and, being p cover tha
tired, the brothers had gone to bed. _ Rected wi
Chief Nussbaum and fellow investi- rors
gators voiced a plea by press and radio at broke
for all attack victims in Peoria to com- Sympathet
municate with him by letter or tele- panel
phone. “You may hold the key to this Ri lanl
crime,” he declared. “If you have suf- i oe bank
fered at the hands of such a fiend, do t op'a frei;
not hesitate because of fear of publicity. 0 make it
Your identity will be withheld.” eS - had b«
Local newspapers added their pledge [| se ..” ;

that every effort would be made to keep
secret the names of all informers,
Early Tuesday the results began to
pour in. Officers were appalled by the
numbers of such criminal attacks;
crimes that had never been reported
because of the young victims’ under-
standable desire to shun any publicity.
Moreover, they were stunned by the
remarkable similarity in the circum-

~ &approachin,
lowing thre

~~ An old }
» Keep out the

stances under which many of these at- stopped. A
looked me «
tacks had occurred. :
N ‘ -asked.
Further proof of public collaboration oe *L-told hi
was the swelling reward fund promoted GAN right

by local newspapers and raised by
popular subscription. Governor Horner

rive tins th
personally contributed $100 to this fund athe

MASTER DETECTIVE

x
‘ly acted as an

knew.
‘lars I made
nothing. Like
t dodging the

That I have
long years in
v-enforcement

tied by the
2 to come for-
e.
iis think I was
>” If so, they
I paid more
ad served my
m sure, a law
the Almighty,
who manage
earth.

ne of the per-
ng article has
is one substi-
* rp

Wd.

iin’s gates to

ned to Wash-
for the effec-
e intelligence
to Director
‘ learned that
“*7'ted sabo-
outbreak,
ted cases

—) ports.
ense is also
reasons for
gland was to
ee if there
en the FBI
ick in Wash-
sary to make
nlicy in the
e it was al-
{ and up-to-

or Hoover’s
rtant point-
eing studied
*s which the
lice officers,
ian Defense

ome of the
1 in England,
erica’s home

ergency.

ilities.
nd duties.

grgency.
forces.

in air

ER DETECTIVE

(Continued from page 16) Council voted
a lump sum of $500.

Typical of the statements received from
recent assault victims was the following,
reproduced herewith for the first time.
Master Detective, of course, withholds the
true name of the young victim, and I will
call her Mary Reed.

She was a member of a fine family, and
private secretary for a local industrialist.
She made her startling statement at Po-

. lice Headquarters late Tuesday.

M@ “A YEAR ago this month, about June

5th, I was waiting at the corner of Main
and Jefferson for a West Bluff bus,” the
girl began. “It was eleven o’clock when a
young man, whom I afterward learned
was Jerome Blair, approached me and
said, ‘Hello, there, waiting for a car?’ He
then asked to take me home. I refused
saying that I would rather wait. Then he
said, “You know me, don’t you?’ I an-
swered, ‘I don’t believe so.’ Then he said
he had sold me a pair of shoes at Block
and Kuhl’s. He told me that his dad’s
car was around the corner and that he
would take me home.

“As I had never been scared before,
and it seemed so foolish, inasmuch as he
was younger than I am, I went to his car
and got in. I didn’t suspect anything was
the matter when he drove the car up
Knoxville. He was talking about air-
planes and he wanted to take me out to
the field to show me the plane that he
flew. I told him I didn’t care to go, but
he took me there, anyway. He turned
in at the Mount Hawley Airport, telling
me that we were going to see the planes.

“Finally he stopped the car and said,
‘Let’s get out and go over by the planes.’
I refused.” The girl’s eyes hardened, “He
underwent a complete change. He kept
me there from eleven-thirty until four
o’clock in the morning. He was a fiend.
He twisted one of my legs around the
steering post of the car and wouldn't let
me go. I didn’t realize that my knee was
hurt until I started to run to the lunch
stand at the edge of the airport. The
people at the stand told me they knew
him and that he was a ‘smart guy.’ These
people took me home, although I had to
get them out of bed by pounding on the
door and screaming.”

“When you got out of the car did he run
after you?” Nussbaum asked.

“He did as I got near the stand,” the girl
replied.

“Did he strike you?”

“Yes. With the flat of his hand. It’s all
anightmare. I don’t know yet how I ever
got out of that car alive.”

“Did he tear your clothing?”

“Yes. And when I got out I left my
watch, coat, shoes and pocketbook in the
car. Next morning I went to the place
where his father works and I told him
the whole story.” The father, she added,
obtained her personal effects and supplied
her with a new pair of shoes in restitution
for those she had damaged.

Blair proved to be a man in his middle-
twenties, an employee of the Hiram Walk-
er Distillery. He was now married. The
thick-lipped and husky amateur aviator
squirmed as detectives quizzed him at
Nussbaum’s office. He at once admitted
the attempted assault at the Mount Haw-
ley airport, and his story agreed substan-
tially with the one the young woman
had related. Shamefacedly, he said, “I’m
afraid I got a little rough. I was sorry
afterward.”

“You're lucky she refuses to prosecute,”
Nussbaum told him. “Otherwise you’d
get a one-way ride to the penitentiary.”

On the day of the Hallmark murder,
Blair claimed he had played a foursome

ocroper, 1942

Crime Cobra _

of golf with friends and that his wife
picked him up at the Madison golf links
at 6 pm. “That evening we never left
the house,” he asserted. ‘We listened to
the radio and then went to bed at eight-
thirty.”

“Does your wife know about this?”
Nussbaum asked.

The young man reddened. °“I told her
everything,” he admitted. “And she didn’t
like it at all.”

A close. check confirmed his story. And
inasmuch as Miss Reed refused to prose-
cute him on his attempted assault, officers
had no recourse but to turn him loose.

‘Meanwhile, scrapings from the slain
girl’s fingernails were subjected to micro-
scopic analysis by Mr. Imbau, the North-
western University crime expert. Unfor-
tunately, no trace of human skin was
found. Moreover, careful examination of
the upholstery in the Oakland sedan
owned by Walter Latham proved that the
stains were exactly what he claimed they
were—grease marks. On the strength of
this disclosure the youth might have been
released. However, in the light of a letter
received by Chief Nussbaum early Wed-
nesday it was deemed best to hold him in
custody a while longer. The letter follows:

Sir;

Mildred Hallmark’s experience was so
similar to mine that I feel that the same man
might have committed both crimes.

The man seemed to make assault his avo-
cation. Everything was planned, down to the
smallest detail. I talked to him for about an
hour and a half before he really harmed me,
and he told me a lot of things about himself.

He made a practice of picking up girls
and attacking them. He had his attacks
planned and he always went about them in
the same way. Before he hurt me he told
me exactly what he was going to do. He
showed me the different “holds” that he
used on girls. He had a trick of locking his
arms around a girl’s throat that would
strangle her without leaving a mark. He
showed how he twisted arms and told me
about a short uppercut that would knock a
girl out. .

He told me to look at his car. He had a
small sedan. He had fixed the right-hand
door with special locks so that it could
not be opened from the inside. He had the
little knob on the gear shift riveted on be-
cause he said a girl might take the ordinary
handle off and use it as a weapon. He had a
flashlight holder hidden in the corner of the
car. He said if a girl sometimes got away
from him he had to use it to catch her. He
kept it hidden because he was afraid the girl
might use it to defend herself.

He told me about some of his experiences.
He bragged that there wasn’t a woman living
who could defend herself against him. He
told me about a girl who nearly was killed a
short time before. He said he would rather
take a married woman because they put up
a more interesting fight. He was between
twenty-five and thirty years of age and he
said that since he was fourteen he had been
attacking girls for the fun of it.

At first I couldn’t believe a man could do
some of the things he told me about. He
finally got to talking and arguing with me.
He asked me if I was ready to submit and
then he very deliberately began to use tricks
and holds he had been describing to me. I
didn’t lose my temper. He said he had to
give me so much punishment. Then I finally
realized that here was a man who would
torture a woman. I became panic-stricken. I
kicked the glass out of the car window and
tried to crawl out, but it was impossible. He
was raving mad_ because I had broken the
glass and I really thought he was going to
kill me.

This happened in a large vacant field
about a block and a half from Prospect and
Forest Hill. He said it was his favorite spot.
I could see streetcars and autos going back
and forth, but I was just too far to scream
for help. The man, who told me his name
was Lee Bridges, was*amused because he
could do a thing like that with help so close
at hand. ‘:

The letter bore no signature.

“We've got to locate that girl and get
a description of this fellow and his auto-
mobile,” Chief Nussbaum said deter-
minedly.

“But how?” Detective Welty asked
gloomily. “If we make a plea through the
papers she’ll get scared and chances are
we never will find her.”

The next morning Nussbaum received a
telephone call from a young woman. His
heart bounded as she said, “I’m the girl
who sent you that letter about the attack
near Prospect and Forest Hill.”

Scarcely crediting his good fortune, the
Chief said quickly, “We were hoping you
would call. You can help us a great deal.
Where can I get in touch with you?”

The girl supplied her name and address,
which was in a quiet residential neighbor-
hood. “You can come out right away, if
you wish,” she added.

A half-hour later the police official was
ensconced in the living-room of a modern,
upper-middle-class home, talking to an
attractive and intelligent young woman in
her middle twenties. The girl explained
that she was an insurance company em-
ployee and that she lived with her aged
parents.

“This terrible crime has recalled my
own bitter experience and I simply
couldn’t resist writing that letter,” she ex-
plained. “If that fiend isn’t caught, I’m
convinced he may kill others.”

“Please tell me under what circum-
stances you came to be riding in his car,”
Nussbaum requested. This was a question
that had plagued him in connection with
the Hallmark murder, for investigation
had convinced him that the cafeteria em-
ployee was not the kind of girl who would
accept rides from strangers.

The girl flushed. “It was late at night
and it was raining. I was standing at
Main and Jefferson, waiting for a Heights
car, when he stopped and asked if he
could give me a lift. At first I refused,
but he looked so clean-cut and eager to
be of service, I didn’t see much harm in
accepting his invitation. I didn’t realize
the terrible reason for his eagerness until
it was too late,” she added ruefully. “I
was very foolish, and I knew it as soon as
he drove past my corner. When I pro-
tested he just laughed and said, ‘Don’t
worry. I’m just going to take you for
a little ride.’ ”

m™@ A SLOW flush suffused the pretty bru-

nette’s features as she added, “There’s
something else I didn’t mention in my let-
ter. This man has a unique method for
silencing his victims. If they are espe-
cially obstinate, as I was, he knocks them
out with what he calls a short uppercut.
Then he assaults them. After I kicked
out one of his windows he struck me and
when I regained consciousness I was com-
pletely undressed and lying in the back
seat. He had perfected a system that
enabled him to take pictures of himself
and his victims, and he said he had photo-
graphed us together. He said my friends
and the newspapers would get copies if
I reported him.”

Here, indeed, was a fiend endowed with
the ingenuity of the Devil himself. ‘Do
you think you would recognize this fellow
if you saw him again?” the officer asked.

“I believe so,” the girl replied after
some hesitation.

“Then come with me,” Nussbaum re-
quested.

A half-hour later, after being spirited
into Police Headquarters without being
seen, she viewed Walter Latham. For a
long moment she stared at the slender,
good-looking young man. Then she nod-
ded. “He looks like the one,” she said.

anaes

MASTER DETECTIVE

ee ee :

a a aN TO NY

a special detail to handle all the tips
received in this fashion.

Under the circumstances, two of these
stories came in for special attention.
The first came from Charles Miller, who

lived at 122 Paris Street, Peoria.

Heights, only a short distance from the
Hallmark home.

“A negro entered my place between
two-thirty and three o’clock Sunday
morning and attempted to molest my
wife,” he reported. “He jumped out of
the window when she fought him off
and screamed for help. I was at work
at the time at an auto-parking lot near
the carnival grounds.”

Nussbaum wrote to the Manager of
the Royal American Shows, Inc., which
had played in Peoria the previous three
days, requesting the names of any of
his employees who had quit or been
hired while in Peoria. In addition, he
asked to be notified if any members of
the troupe bore fresh scratches or
bruises.

Still another incident was reported by
a young woman who lived on Orange
Street. Immediately after boarding a
street car at Main and Adams Streets at
ten-thirty the previous night, she no-
ticed an automobile following the
trolley, she reported. When she got off
at Main Street and Sheridan Road the
motorist stopped and tried to entice her
into his car. He cursed her violently
after she refused and then tried to force
her into his machine.

“I screamed and ran into Murphy’s
Tavern,” the girl stated. “Mr. John
Stuart took me home.”

™ An officer of the Peoria, Illinois, police
carefully searches for clues in the culvert
where the murdered girl's body was found

OCTOBER, 1942

“What kind of car did this man
drive?” Nussbaum asked.

“It was a green, Model-A Ford with
yellow wire wheels,” was the prompt
reply. :

The tavern owner substantiated the
girl’s story. He, too, had seen the ma-
chine as it drove away.

Descriptions of the masher’s car were
immediately broadcast.

Presently, Welty and Ford returned
with a slight, pale-complexioned youth.
“This is Cletus Delheimer,” Ford an-
nounced.

Nussbaum motioned him to a chair
and then asked, “Cletus, what do you
know about this crime?”

The young man gulped and said,
“Nothing.”

“Did you ever take Mildred Hall-
mark out?”

“No, sir.”

Nussbaum showed him the letter in
which the warning had appeared. The
boy gasped. “Why, I can’t imagine what
he meant!” he exclaimed. “I never even
asked Mildred for a date.”

Delheimer looked sincere, but the
Chief felt obliged to hold him until his
story had been checked.

An investigation revealed that no
streetcar employee on any of the
trolleys Mildred Hallmark might have
taken could identify the slain girl’s
clothing or photograph. A. Brown, a
motorman on the Knoxville line, on
whose car the girl must have ridden if
McGinnis’ story could be credited, did
not recall having seen her; nor did
F. B. Pierce, motorman on the Peoria

Heights car, which passed Main and
Jefferson Avenue at 11:30 p.m. “A
young woman got off at Melbourne
Avenue, but she wasn’t carrying a knit-
ting bag,” he declared.

«When he was questioned for the
second time, young McGinnis staunchly
clung to his original statement. “I saw
her take a seat on the right-hand side
up near the front,” he repeated.

Meanwhile, Chief Nussbaum was ad-
vised in a long-distance call from
Springfield that Governor Henry Hor-
ner had placed the entire resources of
the Illinois State Bureau of Criminal
Identification and Investigation and the
Illinois State Highway Police at his dis-
posal. He was told that T. P. Sullivan,
superintendent of the state bureau, his
assistants, Tom Piper and John Lynch,
were en route to Peoria and that Ser-
geant Bert Molohan, of the State Police,
had been ordered to hold himself
available.

In addition, the Peoria Chief putina
request, over the long-distance tele-
phone, to the Northwestern University
Crime Laboratory at Evanston, for the
lie-detector. Fred Imbau, University
crime expert, said he would be in
Peoria with his equipment late that
night, Monday, June 17th, 1935.

At Nussbaum’s suggestion a confer-
ence to coordinate all law-enforcement
agencies was held at once. It was at-
tended by Peoria County State’s At-
torney Edwin V. Champion, State’s At-
torney’s Investigator Eugene Cavan-
augh, Coroner W. B. Elliot, Sheriff
Marcus Olson, Deputy Sheriff Grant

@ This is a closeup study of
the killer.
vealed the shocking details
of nights of horror for
more than fifty victims

His diary re-

Latham stopped his pacing and con-
fronted the young woman indignantly.
“What do you mean?” he demanded. “I
never saw you before in my life.”

Noting the girl’s discomfiture, Nuss-
baum signaled Detectives Ford and Welty,
and Latham was taken away. Afterward
the Chief talked at length with the ner-
vous young witness. ‘Would you be will-
ing to testify in court that this man is
the one who assaulted you?” he asked.

The girl bit her lip uncertainly, and
then shook her head. “No,” she said at
last, “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be sure. I
made a mistake about six months ago and
possibly this is another.”

@ CONCEALING his disappointment, the
officer asked, “You mean you thought
another man was your attacker?”

“Yes. It happened on a blind date. A
former schoolmate called me one evening
and suggested that I accompany her and
her fiancé to a dance. She said he had
a friend, a young man he’d met at the
shop where he worked. Well,” she added,
“it sounded all right, so I agreed. They
‘called for me, but as I was about to get
into the car I saw this strange young
man’s face, and somehow I thought he
looked like the one who had attacked me.
I was so upset I got out and said, ‘I think
we've met before.’

“The poor fellow was stunned. His
name was Jerry Thompson and he was a
toolmaker for the Caterpillar Tractor
Company. My attacker had said his name
was Lee Bridges. My friends laughed at
me, and for the rest of the evening the
three of them kept teasing me and want-
ing to know what Bridges had done to
make me despise him so,”

“Are you certain this man Thompson
was not actually Bridges?”

“Oh, yes,” the girl replied quickly. “He
was a perfect gentleman and we had a
delightful evening.”

That night Fred Imbau subjected Wal-
ter Latham to a Polygraph examination.
The youth submitted willingly and, after
several hours, the Northwestern expert
reported to Chief Nussbaum and fellow
investigators that the test was inconclu-
sive. “I'd like to requestion him tomor-
row,” he said.

Young John McGinnis, the Bradley Col-
lege student, was also questioned on the
device. Pale, his eyes red-rimmed from
worry and lack of sleep, he plainly wel-
comed the opportunity. He answered all
questions without the slightest hesitation
and there were no deviations in his story.
At the conclusion of the test, Imbau de-
clared: . Chie

“I am confident this young man is telling
the truth.” d

On the strength of this report, coupled
with a favorable investigation of the
youth’s character and the fact that no
bloodstains were found on his clothing,
Chief Nussbaum ordered him released.
McGinnis promised, however, to remain
available for future questioning should
this be necessary.

Funeral services for the slain girl were
held at St. Mary’s Cathedral. Six young
men, former classmates, acted as pallbear-
ers, and burial took place in St. Mary’s
Cemetery.

Still unsolved was the mystery of where
the pretty victim had been picked up by
her slayer. Detectives Ford and Welty,
to whom Chief Nussbaum delegated the
task of checking persons who regularly
rode the streetcars along the probable
route the girl followed, talked to dozens
of residents, with no result,

Late Wednesday night the two officers
took an experimental ride on the trolley
McGinnis claimed the girl had taken. They
painstakingly questioned residents at each
point where the victim might have

paused to change cars. In this fashion
they encountered John Manias, who lived
in an apartment house at the corner of
Knoxville and Pennsylvania Avenues.
Here, they reasoned, the girl might have
transferred to a Peoria Heights car, and
possibly someone had seen her waiting on
the corner.

As matters developed, they were right.
In response to the detectives’ questioning,
Manias stated that he had seen a girl get
into a small sedan late Sunday night.
“Tt must have been around eleven-thirty,”
he declared, “because I had been sleeping
for quite a while, and I remember getting
up to open a window. I looked out just
in time to see her get into the car.”

“Could you see her or the driver very
well?” Welty asked.

“No, sir. They were too far away. But
the girl wore a white dress.”

Mildred Hallmark had worn a white
dress on the night of her slaying.

“And what about the young man?”

“I got a pretty good look at him. He got
out from behind the wheel and walked
clear around the car in order to open the
door. He was slim and bareheaded. He
had dark hair and I remember he was
wearing a white shirt,”

“Hold on a minute,” Ford interrupted.
“Are you certain this fellow got out from
behind the wheel and walked around the
car in order to open the door?”

“T’m positive.”

@ FORD TURNED to his partner and his

face was grim. “That ties in with what
that girl said about the door handle being
removed from the inside.”

Welty nodded. “It sounds like the same
fellow,” he agreed.

If, as Manias stated, it was around
eleven-thirty when he witnessed the above
incident, what dreadful ordeal pretty Mil-
dred Hallmark must have suffered during
the two and one-half hours that preceded
her death.

Meanwhile, scores of tips were being
run down by members of the Peoria Po-
lice Department, the Sherift’s department
and members of the Illinois State High-
way Patrol. The unsung heroes of this
arduous and disheartening work were the
uncomplaining patrolmen’* and plain-
clothesmen delegated to this all-important
work. Car owners seen washing their
machines were questioned, so were others
who had made unwelcome overtures to
women. i

The reward fund raised by public sub-
Scription, including the nickels and dimes
of school children, continued to swell. By
Thursday morning it had reached the sum
of $1,841.

The possibility that the slayer might
have been a carnival employee vanished
when the manager of the Royal Ameri-
can Shows advised that no members of
his troupe had left the carnival at Peoria
and that none bore scratches or other
signs of having engaged in a death
struggle.

It was close to noon on Thursday when
a middle-aged man was ushered into the
busy Chief's office. He introduced him-
self as Henry Newman, a laundry engi-
neer. He was apologetic as he explained
the purpose of his visit, ;

“Chief,” he said, “I’ve obtained per-
mission from an eighteen-year-old daugh-
ter of a friend of mine to tell you her
story. She agreed it would be all right
for me to talk to you, provided her name
wasn’t brought into the case.”

“Go ahead,” the officer encouraged. “We
won’t need her name so long as you can
get all the details we require.”

Newman continued. “This girl suffered
pretty much as Miss Hallmark did, only
she wasn’t murdered. But she feels she
was lucky to escape with her life. She
and her father are great pals—they hunt
and go fishing together—and she finally
told him the whole story. His first im-
pulse was to kill the man if he ever got
hold of him, but the girl made him prom-
ise not to do anything violent, as it would
cause both of them a lot of notoriety and
serve no useful purpose.”

“The young lady has good sense,” Nuss-
baum said.

“More than that,” Newman observed,
“she has remarkable presence of mind, as
you will agree when you’ve heard the
whole story.”

“When did this happen?”

“On August 27th of last year.”

“And under what circumstances?”

M@ “SHE WAS waiting for a trolley when

this. fellow came along and talked her
into getting into his car for a ride home.
It was not very late and there was lots
of traffic. She said he was a clean-cut
and decent appearing young man or she
wouldn’t have taken the chance.”

The Chief nodded, for by now the modus
operandi of this fiend was an old story.
“Where did he take her?” he asked quietly,

Their work well done, youthful Chief Nussbaum (center) and Detec-
tives-Glenn Ford (left) and Charles Welty discuss the difficult case

MASTER DETECTIVE

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OCTOBER, 1942

tists identified as
acker’s face while

that a sex maniac
ks he had preyed
variably selecting
itions would make
s of his fiendish

veloped, had suf-
ted by the demon
is done by the at-
ir stories to Chief
\ler to justice and

the acting chief

ted with an quto-

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> car and photo-.

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the lust maniac’s
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£ Gerald Thomp-

DARING

Advanced to head
of the Peoria police
department only a
few days before the

allmark slaying,
Chief: Fred Nuss-
baum did an excep-
tional piece of work
on the baffling

mystery.

son, a mechanic in the Caterpillar Tractor Works.
His face bore scratches.

Thompson withstood questioning until Detectives
Ford and Welty found in his home a telltale diary
and a notebook containing the names and addresses
of many of the young women victims of the attacker.
The diary was a horrible account of his. conquests.

Questioned under a lie detector while a mob
howled outside the Peoria jail for vengeance,
Thompson finally confessed the murder of Miss Hall-
mark. A jury found him guilty of murder and he
was sentenced to the electric chair, despite pleas of
insanity by his lawyer and members of his family.

Brought to Joliet prison on August 17, he had
sneered at authorities and scoffed at religion. He
had asked for his horrible diary to be brought to him
and upon being refused he had filled his cell with
lurid literature.

“I wonder who'll get the automobile I had so many
good times in with the girls,” he sneered. “I hope
it goes to some guy who will put it to good use.”

But a few days in the death row had changed his
attitude. In the very shadow of the electric chair
and with all hope gone after Governor Horner had
refused his plea for commutation of sentence, Gerald
had turned to religion for comfort in his last hours.
The crimes he committed had returned in dreams to
haunt him. .

“I’m sorry I killed Mildred,” he told Warden Frank

[Continued on page 52]

DETECTIVE

Victim of a sex-mad attacker, lovely Mildred Hallmark fought
valiantly in defense of her life and honor. Her murder threw
Peoria and the nation into an uproar. It was for her death
that Thompson paid the supreme penalty.

cond-floor chamber
penitentiary. Four
a room not large

of Illinois take the
‘ly-haired, 26-year-
brutal lust murder
1e climax of a case

the electric chair,
separated from the

about behind the
em twitched away
:e’s ghastly contri-
cy.

either the witness
the glass. There
lls were bare, and
finished ceiling.

the rough, sturdy
intry hotel or in a
jarms. But there
closer inspection,
ordinary piece of
bell-shaped metal
van’s head like a
jolts of electricity

he arms and legs
9s soon would be
chat would shoot
‘nt into his body.
1 the morning of
n waiting nearly
of men taking the
sand many other
n—murder in the

1 could bring but
te of the healthy,
an adjacent cell,
crease that con-

1e youth embark-
DARING

2°

This actual photo of Gerald Thomp-. . we
son’s execution, taken as the first
lethal charge of electricity coursed |:
through his body, shows just what »
Mr. Grammson saw as an eye-wit-
ness. Gruesome? Yes, but it shouts, |
louder than words,

CRIMINAL CANNOT WIN!

By WILLIAM H.
GRAMMSON

ing on a career of crime, the man or
woman filled with hatred to the point of
killing, could have looked upon that scene,
America’s record of violent crime cer.
tainly would have been sharply reduced.

I glanced about at the crowded spec-
tators. There were strong, stalwart men
among them, but on the faces of all was
an expression they could not conceal. A
look of fear and awe—of dread, suspense-
ful waiting. Undoubtedly, most of them
would have wished to be somewhere else.

Peoria Officers Present

A! ONE side of the room, I saw
Detectives Glen Ford and Charles
Welty of the Peoria police, the officers
who brought Thompson to swift, sure
justice after days of brilliant sleuthing.
Their faces were impassive,

But who was that aging, white-haired
man at the rear of the witness chamber,
supported on the arms of two younger
men? I looked twice before I could be
certain. It was John Hallmark, father
of the slain girl, there to see the supreme
penalty paid by the murderer of his
daughter. His face was grim, but he ap-
peared to be near collapse.

A guard appeared on the other side of
the glass, carrying a bucket of water to
the electric chair. He set down the bucket
and walked out a side door, assured him-
self that the master switch was thrown
so there was no danger of his accidental
electrocution.

Then he returned to the chair, removed
sheepskin pads from the metal skull cap
and from the electrodes that would press
against Thompson’s arms and legs. He
sopped each of the pads in water, to make
transmission of the current easier, then
he picked up the bucket and walked away.

My thoughts returned to the con-
demned youth, even now praying with
the Rev. Eligius Wier, Catholic chaplain

DETECTIVE

t: THE

assigned to the prison, and to the amaz-
ing murder case involving him... .

On the previous June 16, nineteen-
year-old Mildred Hallmark, pretty,
talented, convent-bred and engaged to
marry, had left her work as hostess in
Bishop’s Cafeteria on }eoria’s main
street. She attended a movie with John
McGinnis, another employe of the cafe-
teria and he had seen the girl aboard a
street car for her home.

Find Ravished Body

THE following morning her body was
found in Springdale Cemetery at the
outskirts of the little city. Her clothing

had been torn away; she had been
ravished and a brutal blow to the jaw
had broken her neck and was the cause
of death.

Acting Chief of Police Fred Nuss-
baum had launched an immediate investi-
gation, aided by Detectives Ford and
Welty, Chief T. P. Sullivan of the Crimi-
nal Identification and Apprehension
Bureau of Illinois, Governor Henry
Horner and experts from the famed
Northwestern University Laboratory of
Scientific Crime Detection in Chicago.

There apparently was not a single clue
to aid them, except for the fact that be-
neath the slain girl’s fingernails were

ee eee

As though haunted by
visions of the countless
girls he had despoiled,
Thompson, left below,
covers his eyes with his

hand as a stalwart of-.

ficer leads him from the
chief’s office where he
confessed to the Hall-

mark slaying.

found bits of substance that scientists identified as
skin she had scratched from her attacker’s face while
resisting his advances.

The Hallmark tragedy revealed that a sex maniac
was at large in Peoria. For weeks he had preyed
upon girls and young women, invariably selecting
victims whose social and family positions would make
them unlikely to inform authorities of his fiendish
acts.

Eighty-five young women, it developed, had suf-
fered in silence after being assaulted by the demon
of the streets, but when murder was done by the at-
tacker they came forward with their stories to Chief
Nussbaum, anxious to bring the killer to justice and
to prevent more slayings by him.

From their combined stories, the acting chief
learned that the sex monster operated with an auto-
mobile that was literally a trap for women. The glass
in the windows and windshield was unbreakable and
the inside door handles could be removed as a further
precaution against escape from the car.

A Tale Of Horror

CHIEF NUSSBAUM’S blood ran cold and his
fists clenched in anger as he heard the story of a
fifteen-year-old girl, brought to him by her father
after the Hallmark murder. She told of accepting a
ride with a young man one evening and of being
taken to a lonely country lane against her will.

“I resisted him and he threatened to kill me,” the
girl related. “It was two months ago, but my parents
and I decided never to tell anyone because of the
scandal it would bring. But father changed his
mind after Mildred was killed.

“Anyway, I fought against the man and he knocked
me unconscious. When I recovered consciousness
he had cut away my dress and clothing with scissors.
I can’t remember the dreadful things that happened.
Finally he dragged me out of the car and photo.
graphed me in the nude before the headlights. He
said he would spread copies of the picture all over
town if I told police.”

Then the girl went on to relate that she had re-
membered the license numbers of the lust maniac’s
automobile, and with that information police had the
first real clue. It led to the arrest of Gerald Thomp-

DARING

son, a mec}
His face bo
Thompso:
Ford and \
and a noteb
of many of :
The diary \
Questione
howled out
Thompson f
mark. A j
was sentenc
insanity by
Brought
sneered at ;
had asked fc
and upon b
lurid literat:
“T wonde:
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But a few
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and with all!
refused his ;
had turned t
The crimes
haunt him.
“T’m sorry

DETECTI\

Condemned to death for the brutal lust-

am \ om + } or
SUL Lé j Wl U » weg whe Fd asl

slaying of red-haired

Mildred Hallmark, Peoria, Illinois, beauty, Gerald Thompson's

case presents graphic proof of the folly of lawlessness.

In this EYE-WITNESS account, the author takes you to the

Joliet execution chamber while a shocking crime is expiated|

Sulky, wavy-haired Gerald Thompson ad-

mitted attacking scores of women. Above,

as he appeared in an official police photo
and, at right, after arraignment.

: Aa ia A

of the most dreaded building at Joliet penitentiary. Four
hundred of us were jammed into a room not large
enough for half that number.

We had gathered there to see the State of Illinois take the
life of Gerald Thompson, handsome, curly-haired, 26-year-
old youth from Peoria, Illinois, for the brutal lust murder
of beautiful Mildred Hallmark. It was the climax of a case
that had shocked and aroused the nation.

Not ten feet in front of me I could see the electric chair,
swathed in the folds of a black cloth and separated from the
crowd of witnesses by a wall of glass.

Now and then a prison guard walked about behind the
glass partition and as I watched, one of them twitched away
the black robe to reveal the chair—science’s ghastly contri-
bution to blast the condemned into eternity.

It was the only article of furniture in either the witness
room or in the execution chamber behind the glass. There
was not even a chair or bench. The walls were bare, and
above our heads were the rafters of an unfinished ceiling.

I’: WAS oppressingly stuffy in the second-floor chamber

The Chair Of Death

‘THE chair might well have passed for the rough, sturdy
kind often seen on the veranda of a country hotel or in a
hunting lodge. It had a high back and broad arms. But there
were things about the chair that, upon closer inspection,
took away the innocent appearances of an ordinary piece of
furniture. Over its back hung a black, bell-shaped metal
device that would fit over the doomed man’s head like a
horrible skull cap, releasing the paralyzing jolts of electricity
into his brain,
There were tight straps and buckles on the arms and legs
of the chair, with which Thompson’s limbs soon would be
fastened and near them were electrodes that would shoot

first degree.

To stand in that room of expectant death could bring but
one thought to anyone. To think of the fate of the healthy,
handsome and once carefree young man in an adjacent ceil,
guarded like a wild animal, could only increase that con-
viction in my mind. Crime never pays!

If only the young gunman on the street, the youth embark-

DARING

NL ral Ld a

By \
Og E

ing on a
woman fi]
killing, co
America’s
tainly wo:

I glance
tators, T
among the
an expres:
look of fea
ful waitin;
would hav

Peo

A' ON
Detec
Welty of 1
who _ broug
justice afte
Their face:

But who
man at the
supported
men? I Ic
certain, Ir
of the slain
penalty pa
daughter.

peared to b

A guard ;

the glass, c:
the electric «
and walked
self that the
so there was
electrocutio:

Then he r:
sheepskin pz
and from the
against Tho:
sopped each
transmission
he picked up

My thoug
demned yout
the Rev. Elig

DETECTIV

{

against

grinning

of the

Pritt at

pressed

arrowed

awoke

(Left) Rear of : xs
State Hotel, Chi-.
cago.’ Arrow

(Right) Mary

Louise Trammell,

the slain bride,

whose nude, bat-

tered body was dis-

covered by her hus-
band

SLAIN BRIDE

6 Master

with a start, sitting up frozen with fear, staring at the face
in the window. The window was rising now, slowly, and
Frances Veiger suddenly found voice with a shrill, pitiful
scream that rang through the thin walls of the little hotel
where she lived.

Minutes later, when hotel employees and other tenants
crowded into her room, the girl pointed at the window with
a shaking finger.

“Tr. | saw the face right there,” she sobbed.
fire escape . . i

“On the
outside the window. It... it was awful.
It had a long livid scar.”

One of the hotel men walked over to the window, raised
it and peered cautiously outside.

“Well, whatever it was,” he said, “it’s gone now. Wait—
here’s something!’’ He bent down over the sill, picked up
an object lying on the fire escape and showed it to the
others. It was a small steel crowbar of a kind used by
building wreckers, and the phantom visitor must have
dropped it in his haste to get away. “See—there’s a little
mark in the wood here. He probably used this to force
the window.”

“Better call the police,” someone suggested.

Miss Veiger, frowning, shook her head.

“Oh—please don’t do that. I—I don’t want anyone to
make a fuss about this. It might get into the newspapers
—and anyway, nothing happened.”

“All| right,” the hotel man agreed reluctantly. “But you'd
better keep the window locked the rest of ‘the night, even if
you did scare him away.”

“Don’t worry, | will.”

A few moments later,
after

troubled sleep. She did
not know’ then that she
had seen Chicago's scar-
faced fiend, with death
written on his staring,
ugly face. She could
not guess that he would
soon roam in the night
again, and that ghastly
murder would be done.

x * *

Thomas Trammell,
whistling a gay tune
and nodding to ac-
quaintances, strolled
out of the Dearborn
Street railroad station
‘on the afternoon of
August 16th, 1936, and
headed briskly for
South State Street.

It was Sunday, and
Trammell, a dining-car
steward, had just fin-
ished his regular run
on the Grand Trunk
Railway.

And now, tired of
clicking steel wheels and
the. swaying cars in
which he had worked
for two long weeks, he
was going home. There
was irony in that word
“home” — and Tram-
mell, passing the fa-
miliar, gaudy taverns
and tinsel-front bur-
lesque theaters that
lined the route to his
hotel, sensed it more
than ever.

Yet he was philoso-
pher enough to believe
that even existence
here, in this honky-

et CA IRI GTC 7

Detective

tonk sector that clings like cheap silver fringe to the edge of
Chicago’s Loop, was better than being unemployed; better
than wondering how he and Mary, his pretty young wife,
would make ends meet.

Things had been that way once.

I KNOW he had poignant memories of their honeymoon
in Tennessee little more than a year before, when he
had a well-paying position in Knoxville, and marriage to
Mary had seemed a very pleasant and secure chapter in life.
But suddenly he lost his job, and their day dreams turned
to sharp reality. ’

Trammell had to leave Knoxville to look for work.

“Don’t worry, honey,” his wife had said. “I’ll stay home
with mother until you find something. When you do, rll
come, just as fast as the train will go.”

Months later, heart-weary and miserably alone, Thomas
Trammell found work on the railroad.

It was a part time job, two weeks out of a month, and
the nies was small; but Mary came, just as she had prom-
ised, and the horizon was no longer dark. It was wonder-
ful, he reflected, to have a wife like Mary, who had taken
adverse and despair with a smile; whose faith and op-
timism had kept him going in those long, bitter weeks.

Soon, he hoped, they could leave the downtown district
and take an apartment. With these thoughts running
through his mind, Trammell Sar ate his steps and soon
reached the State Hotel, at 553 South State Street, where

they had been living since Mary arrived. He had bought

Frances Veiger indicates with her hands the length of the crowbar left on her window
sill by the man with the scar. She later identified the sinister phantom and scorn-

fully urged. him to confess

AAG AO EOL LO el al

“That must be what happened,” said
Swain with a shrug.

“Then—” Captain Gilbert paused for
a long moment—‘“then perhaps you can
explain how the laundry check for
your clothing was dated only nine days
ago!” re

Swain’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“It must have been after I took the
laundry over that the notebook was
stolen,” he offered lamely.

“But,” Captain Gilbert’s voice
cracked like a whip, “a man doesn’t
make a mistake between nine days and
three weeks when he’s been robbed!”

Swain, his poise completely re-
gained, shrugged again.

“Perhaps that’s true in a great many
cases—but not in this one,” he said,
with seeming indifference. a

“And perhaps you can explain this,’
said Captain Gilbert, opening the note-
book to a page and again sliding it
across the desk.

He pointed to an incomplete memo
that read:

“Hotel Berksh-——” ‘
“T never lived north of Lake Street!

Swain’s voice rose suddenly to fill the
room as he made that statement.
“And, of course, you most certainly

recall what happened at the Hotel
Devonshire, next door to the Berk-
shire on the Near North Side, on a
Sunday morning seven weeks ago
—June 29, 1936, to be exact,” Captain
Gilbert went on. “That was the morn-
ing that Mrs. Florence Thompson Cas-
tle, the cabaret hostess, was found
beaten to death in her bed. The man
who killed her came in by the fire es-
cape. The man who killed Mrs. Tram-
mell at the State Hotel two days ago
came in by the fire escape. On Thurs-
day night, forty-eight hours before
Mrs. Trammell was murdered, your
notebook was found on the fire escape.
And it had your laundry ticket in it!”
Glistening sweat stood out on the
Negro’s forehead, and the whites of
his eyes showed wildly as he looked
from one of us to the other. Then he
shook his head and licked his lips.

“This’is all wrong, gentlemen, all
wrong,” he averred, but the easy con-
fidence was gone from his voice. “I’m
no murderer!”

At Captain Gilbert's suggestion, the
inquiry was removed to the Criminal
Courts Building. On our arrival there
we left our prisoner alone with Prose-
cutor Meyers. An hour later, the attor-
ney joined us in another roorn.

“He keeps changing his story about
when he was robbed of the notebook,”’
said Meyers. “If he’s lying about that,
he’s lying about other things. He
keeps saying for no reason at all that
he never was north of Lake Street, and
he won’t explain the notation that
Tooks like Hotel Berkshire in his note-
book.”

For hours we questioned him in re-
lays, but he steadfastly stuck to his
various stories about the theft of the
book.

It was late that evening when we
requested Miss Veiger to come to the
Criminal Courts Building. In the mean-
time we had brought out a dozen other

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

Negro suspects we were holding for
investigation. While we stood back, a
file of six Negroes was led slowly
through the room. Miss Veiger shook
her head. ;

“Not there,” she said.

Six more were brought in. And
then, of a sudden, a scream pierced
the silence of the room. Miss Veiger
was on her feet, her eyes blazing.

“That’s the man!” she exclaimed.

a was pointing at Rufo Swain,

who cowered under her gaze. Her
voice burst into a storm of denuncia-
tion, and she walked over to shake her
finger in his face.

“You’re the man who came in my
room last Thursday night!” the girl
screamed. “You did! You know you
did! You killed that poor woman at
the State Hotel, too! Why don’t you
tell about it? Why don’t you admit it
like a man?”

He raised his eyes but barely glanced
at her, Instead, he was looking at Cap-
tain Gilbert.

“T might as well tell you about it,”
he said resignedly.

Almost speechless at the sudden turn
of affairs, Captain Gilbert managed to
ask him what had happened in the
room. Swain shrugged.

“I saw the light from the alley,” he
said, ‘‘and so I went up the fire escape,
swung over to the window and slipped
in. The woman heard me, because she
was standing in the corner with no
clothes on. She said, ‘What are you
doing here?’ I said I wanted money.
She ordered me to get out. I saw she
was going to scream and so I grabbed
her by the neck. Pretty soon she was
quiet and I threw her on the bed. Then
I saw the pitcher—the water pitcher.
I hit her with that on the head, four or
five times. I couldn’t see any money,
and so I went out the same window
and down the fire escape to the alley.”

He stopped and studied his spell-
bound audience. “That was all there
was to it,” he added suddenly.

We moved swiftly to complete our
case. Shackled to Sergeant James West,
Swain was taken at once to the State
Hotel.

There, with a heavily-armed ring
of policemen blocking any possible
attempt at an escape, he demonstrat-
ed how he ascended to the room.
A short run, the use of a wooden cellar-
way cover as a spring board, and his
lithe body shot high in the air. His fin-
gers gripped the counterbalanced fire
escape stairway a good ten feet above
the ground and the contraption came
down.

As he proceeded to the complete re-
enactment of his crime, he confessed
in detail just what he had done. He in-
sisted that robbery had been his only
motive, and that he had not raped his
victim.

He admitted also that he had made
the attempt to enter Miss Veiger’s
room, and that he was the prowler
who had dropped the notebook on the
fire escape outside Schumacher’s room.
At. this point in the investigation,
Prosecutor Meyers called a halt.

“We can go no further with this man
on the murder of Florence Thompson
Castle of last June unless he confesses
it voluntarily,” he said. “As a matter
of justice, it is now our duty to charge
him with the murder of Mrs. Tram-
mell, take him to court and try him
according to law. We must not jeopar-
dize this case by a zealous effort to
solve another murder.”

We had been in the police business
long enough to know that the prosecu-
tor’s caution was well-founded. There
was nothing to prevent our trying an-
other angle, however, and so the grand-
mother of little Jimmy Thompson was
invited to bring her young charge to
Chicago.

The boy, it will be remembered,
had told at the time of having seen
a “big black man” beat his mother
to death in her room at the Hotel Dev-
onshire. The grandmother acceded to
our request and brought the boy from
Detroit. However, when Swain was pa-
raded before him with a group of other
Negroes, the youngster failed to pick
him out.

I know there is no evidence that
Swain was involved in the Devonshire
Hotel murder beyond that cryptic en-
try in his notebook, but he has not
even explained that. I cannot, in addi-
tion, forget his strange insistence that
he had never been north of Lake
Street.

Our subsequent investigation showed
that he had worked for an expressman
delivering short orders of coal on the
Near North Side in the vicinity of the
Berkshire and Devonshire Hotels. I do
not believe that Rufo Swain told all
he knew....

Three days after his indictment he
regained his swaggering and almost in-
solent air of superiority. At his request,
the court appointed competent counsel
of his own race to defend him.

After a jury was selected, the de-
fense demanded that the confession be
excluded because it had been obtained
by “police brutality.” The court heard
evidence on the point and ruled that
the confession had been made volun-
tarily. ios
Coupled with the allegation of an

. extorted confession, was an alibi based

mainly on a ride Swain took with a
man he did not know in a car he could
not describe on cross-examination. The
jury retired and after less than two
hours’ deliberation filed in with its
verdict:

“We the jury find the defendant,
Rufo Swain, guilty of murder, and fix
his punishment at death!”

As this is written, there are but a
few fleeting weeks left for Rufo Swain
before he marches to the electric chair.
Will-he, in the meantime, confess to
the slaying of Mrs. Castle? Will~he
disclose other atrocities just as horri-
ble?

It is not likely. For the “panther
man” has spoken once, and if he opens
his mouth again he will be doubly-
doomed.

We of the Chicago police depart-
ment believe that his secrets, such as
they are, will die with him.

frighten him wit}
Hounds. And wit!
his doom!

On February
climbed into a r
identified men fr
other two return
Polen disappeare
seen alive again.

Four months }:
son, a fisherman.
the river bank s«
St. Louis bridge :
nostrils cringed f1
by. He investigat
decomposed body
driftwood. The fe
nizable and the sk
by a series of v
gruesome remai}
fied as those of
With th@ wayesany

Onee more the:
more the police
an unsolved crin
William Polen wa
Hollow who kno
Was slain.

“Roy just talke
bluntly. “He wan
Hollow at night, ;
heard and saw. |
talkative along th

In the succeed:
Hounds turned th:
atrocities. There
Sadie Lewis, a fit:
girl, had been d:
meeting place,
flogged. Two oth
son and Joseph
have suffered sim
authorities were
the victims to le
tales.

But there is one
which none can de
of Gladys Walton

Gladys was the
couple at Elwin, n
studious girl who v
in the Elm Grov
May day in 1934 1
home to find Glad
stairs closet. near].
the effects of a bc
by someone who h
house and surprise

That night, in ;
the girl babbled «
men had beaten he
throw her out the v
them, but could n

happened after tha

Gladys Walton d
ing. and to this dax
the identity of the

O WE come now :
barism of the }
four incredible
Ralph Snyder, undi
of the pack. was 1
Two of the killin:
blatant eruption of

Pama ng

By Sergeant
JAMES COLMAN

Police Department
Chicago, Illinois
As told to
DEAN 8S. JENNINGS

| SAS we
_- .

Cr he SE

T was the murderous mask of hell that pressed against
the smoky pane. Lust was etched above the grinning
lips; there was mania in the too-bright glow of the
eyes, the flaring of the nostrils.

This might have been a cadaver, Staring in at
Frances Veiger. But it was living, for now the face pressed
closer to the glass, its breath coating the pane, its narrowed
eyes watching the pretty girl who slept on the bed.
Perhaps she was aware of those eyes—even in sleep.
Perhaps, because she stirred for a moment, then awoke

MYSTERY of the

THOMASON, J seph, white, 23, hanged Bunkum, IL on June 10, 1836,

"The Chicago American states that Benjamin F, Norris, alias Joseph Thompson,was exe=
cuted at the town of Concord, in the county of Iorquois, on the 10th ultimo,

The same paper sags: Prokhably a more hardened individual has seldom been brought

to the gallows in any country, Before his execution, he confessed that he had

stolen a large number of horses, had assisted in setting fire to a Bank and the

Pearl street house in Cincinnati, had been confined in the Ohio Penitentiary, had

shot men in Ohio, and knocked down and robbed a man in the streets of Cincinnati,

and had been concerned in other crimes with certain individuals whose names it

would not perhaps be proper to mention,"

THOMASON, Joseph, —— Bankumy Wise at Tle, 6=10-18366 be

DOE & MEANS
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FRANK NEWTON OFFICE SUPPLY-cOoTHAN

HISTORY OF IROQUOIS COUNTY.

the plats of Montgomery and [roquois have never been vacated, and
the ground is still taxed as lots. The actual location of the county-
seat by the commissioners was at Iroquois, adjoining Montgomery,
but as no buildings were in Troquois, the county office was kept, and
the courts held. in Montgomery. The election at Bunkum in 1833
was the first held in the county.

Probably the first white child born in Concord township was
William L. Eastburn; he was born February 22, 1834. Another early
birth was that of Mr. Fry's daughter, Amanda; she was born in
November, 1835, and died in infauey.

The tirst taarringe took place October 12, 1832, the contracting
parties being George Courtright and Agnes Newcomb. The license
was procured in Danville, [linois, and the ceremony was pertormed

in an old log house, located on the place, now known as the Wright

farm.

Following close in the wake of the pioneers to this township,
came that dreaded visitor. death, whose presence had been made
mianitest in such varied forms, as seems to have exhausted the
agency of power.

‘Old age has been engaged,
Tender infants low were laid,
Iiven the hangman's fatal knot,
Again the landslides rushing rock ;
Now the river in its might,
Then the bold assassin's knife ;
Disease so often to the task,
And the lightning’s vivid flash,—"’

Have all served, and form one phalanx in that irresistible army to
which all must sucermb. The first death to oceur within the present
limits of Concord township was that of Elijah Newcomb, in the
spring of T8381. Another early death was that of ITezekiah Kastburn,
October 20, 1882.

CRIME.

Gladly wonld we draw a veil over the succeeding paragraphs in
the annals ot this ancient town, so cherished in the memories of the
past. Certainly it is an unpleasant duty to record murders and their
consequences among the chapters of a locality so full of historic
gevas, Dat such is stern reality. Joseph Thomason, alias Joseph
I. Morriss. alias Joseph FL Norriss,* was tried, on a change of venue
from auother county, for the crime of murdering Charles Legree, a

* He claimed Morris when arrested. Before the justice he called himself Norriss,
but was afterward recognized as Thomason.

blacksmith of Chicago. The crime was committed about eighteen
miles south of Chicago. Ife was tried on the third Monday of 1836,
before Tudge (Goy,) Ford, who at that time presided over the dis-
trict of which Troguois County was then a part. The jury was out
81x hours, when a verdict of guilty"? was announced, On June 10
he was hanged to a tree on the north bank of the Iroquois, about
one rod cast of the site of the wagen-bridge.

CONCORD TOWNSHIP.

In July. 1862. at a dance held in Troquois for the v6th regiment,
aman by the name of Landen. a resident of Middleport, had a
huckster stand. He tormerly lived in Rensselaer, Indiana, where he
met John Anderson. a blacksmith, aud at the time of the dance a
resident of Lroquois, Illinois. They had some words, Anderson
racing Landou, and shortly the latter was found to be stabbed, trom
the effects of which he died. Report sitys he named Joe Davis, then
John Anderson as the man who stabbed him. The latter was tried,
and was discharged for want of prosecution, the. witnesses being in
the army,

Again: May 5. 1877, Iroquois was the scene of a bloody affray,
This time Charles Pinkerton killed Samuel Kelly. Pinkerton was
working for Kelly in the latter's livery stable, Pinkerton, with
others, was on a spree in the stable, and Kelly went to quiet them.
They had words, then blows, and Kelly was stabbed, the wound
proving fatal. Pinkerton was tried and sentenced to three years in
the penitentiary,

INCIDENTS, ETC,

Probably with all early settlements are associated amusing inci-
dents and little stories. in Which the names of the pioneers of their
respective localities appear, and as one trom Concord, illustrating
the mettle of her pioneers, we relate the tollowing, in which Mr.

Benjamin Fry was the character. TLe settled here in 1830, when the
‘noble red man’? roamed the forest at will. and, as was the case,
they had a camp close by Mr. Fry’s, They had many dogs, and
these were very unfriendly to Mr. Fry’s hogs, until, as a last resort,
that gentleman took to shooting the offending canines, and some-
times went into the Indian camp to exact his vengeance. This un-
flinching bravery won for him the praise of the Indians, and the
squaws gave the title of « Heap Brave” to the bold white man; and
aya niark of respect. for him, or fear for their dogs, would always
shoulder the latter in passing his residence, and carry them far out
of sight.

did admit, however, under the officers’ re-
lentless questioning, that he had been in-
timate by force with many girls. “I know
it wasn’t right,” he conceded, “but I never
hurt any of them—much.”

Dawn was approaching as the weary of-
ficers concluded their questioning for the
time being, and Chief Nussbaum ordered
the youth locked up. Moreover, he di-
rected that his clothes be removed and
examined for bloodstains, and Detectives
Ford and Welty were dispatched to his
home to go through his personal effects.

W ALICE NOLAN, Thompson's girl-
friend, was questioned at her place of
employment by Detectives Welty and
Ford. She was visibly agitated when in-
formed that her suitor was being ques-
tioned in connection with the Hallmark
case. She confirmed his statement regard-
ing their actions on Sunday night, but as-
serted it was closer to eleven-forty-five
than eleven-thirty when she bade him a
final good-night and went into the house.
“Did he mention going any place in par-
ticular when he left?” Ford asked.
“He said he was awfully tired and
wanted to get to bed,” the girl answered.
Thompson’s girl-friend stated that she
had known him for four years. “We have
an understanding that we will be married
as soon as we can afford to,” she explained.
Miss Nolan enjoyed an excellent repu-
tation, and was one of a family of eight.
She declared that Thompson’s behavior

‘toward her had always been exemplary.

“He’s so gentle and kind I’m certain he
could never hurt anyone,” she said loyally.
“Why, only last week he found a bird with
a broken wing and he was awfully upset
about it. He tried to fix it up with splints
and he even fed it.”

Thompson’s grandparents, a fine, court-
ly couple, told a similar story. “I’m sure
Gerald had nothing to do with that ter-
rible crime,” his grandmother asserted,
tears welling from her faded blue eyes.

“If he’s in any kind of trouble, I know
he’s innocent. He’s a good boy. I know
him, because he has been just like a son
to me.”

A search of the youth’s room, however,
told another story. Secreted in a small
drawer in his dresser, Detectives Ford and
Welty discovered a small, black diary. A
brief examination of its contents sent
them hurrying to their Chief. And little
wonder! For recorded therein were com-
plete details of a score or more deliberate
criminal assaults upon young women. He
had faithfully recorded all pertinent facts
regarding his crimes, including names,
places, descriptions of his victims and lu-
rid accounts of their struggles.

Nothing was left to the imagination, and
each account, neatly penned in the little
black volume, was a complete record cov-
ering his unbelievable actions from the
moment he picked up his trusting victim
until he left her. Moreover, the volume
contained a dozen or more photographs of
nude young women. Most of them were
members of fine Peoria families, officers
later learned. In some of these Thomp-
son had photographed himself in the nude
with a pretty victim. f
W “THIS is the most damnable thing I

have ever seen!” Chief Nussbaum ex-
claimed, after being shown the little book.
“Unless I miss my guess it’s going to be
this young man’s diary of doom.”

One thing the officers did notice: Sig-
nificantly, there was no entry in the diary
for Sunday, June 16th, 1935, the day of
Miss Hallmark’s death.

Close on the heels of this startling de-
velopment, Scientific Expert Imbau an-
nounced that he had discovered tiny spots
on a pair of trousers Thompson wore Sun-
day night, and others on the right side of
the front seat cushion of his car, a 1934
model Willys sedan. Imbau removed the
fabric and proceeded to analyze the stains.
Equally significant, in view of the con-

“Would you care to leave a mes- .
sage? Mr. Thomas is out just now.”

Pe eo *
gos ce PED BN

dition in which the slain girl’s clothing
was found, was the discovery of a pair of
scissors benéath the rear seat.

Beads of perspiration gathered .on
Thompson’s brow as Chief Nussbaum
showed him the diary and obscene photo-
graphs. He stammered for a moment, and
then, regaining some measure of his
amazing composure, said:

“The diary’s mine, all right, and I took
all the pictures.’ He then confessed that
he had worked out an elaborate system,
which enabled him to photograph him-
self and his victims unaided.

From this moment on, Thompson was
never left alone. Most of the girls whose
names, were mentioned in the diary
were brought to Headquarters, carefully
shielded, and allowed to view him in a
showup. Most of these young women
identified him as the baby-faced fiend
who had first tortured them and then
forced them to submit to his advances;
an act usually preceded by his vaunted
“short-uppercut.” Oddly enough, Thomp-
son freely admitted these attacks without
exception; but he stubbornly persisted in
his denial that he had anything to do with
the slaying of Mildred Hallmark.

“Gerald,” Chief Nussbaum asked, ‘why
did you have those scissors in your car?”

The-youth did not reply, whereupon the
officer said, “I know. You used them to cut
the clothing from the girl’s body.”

The suspect shook his head wearily, for

‘he had undergone a ceaseless grilling for

many hours. ‘No,” he repeated doggedly,
“T didn’t do it.”

Disheveled and ashen, he blinked under
the bright lights of the Chief's office. Per-
spiration glistened on his brow as he gave
negative answers with monotonous regu-
larity to questions seeking to link him with
the crime. ;

Nussbaum perceived that the long-
awaited moment had arrived when, during
the course of one of these sessions, Imbau
entered the room and quietly announced,
“Analysis of the stains on Thompson’s
trousers and on the right side of the front
seat show they are human blood.”

The young toolmaker sat wearily in his
chair and mopped his forehead. It was
11:45 p. m. and not a breath of air came
through the open window.

M@ NUSSBAUM picked up the victim’s

bloodstained clothes, walked over to the
prisoner and laid them on the desk.
“Jerry,” he said quietly, ‘“‘here’s the evi-
dence of your work. You know very well
who cut this clothing from that girl’s
body.”

Thompson slumped still farther into his
chair, as if he harbored a vain hope he
could place greater space between him-
self and the garments of the innocent
girl whose life was forfeit because she

trusted the wrong man. “Take them

away!” he cried. “I can’t stand the sight
of them.”

Nussbaum signaled to Detective Welty,
and in a moment State’s Attorney Cham-
pion, Superintendent Sullivan, his assis-
tant, Tom Piper, Fred Imbau, Eugene
Cavanaugh, John lynch and a_ police
stenographer entered the room. State’s
Attorney Champion advised Thompson of
his constitutional rights and asked him if
he had been made any promises.

“No,” Thompson replied in a voice that
was barely audible. His shoulders sagged
and for the first time his self-confidence
appeared to desert him.

“Then tell us the whole story—right
from the beginning,’ Champion ordered.

-Choking at times, and again red-faced,
the youth proceeded to reveal the details
of his crime. ;

“After leaving Alice Nolan’s home last
Sunday night,” he ceclared, “I drove over
to Knoxville Avenue, turned left and went

MASTER DETECTIVE

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OCTOBE!

Court replied. Trial was set for July
22nd and Thompson was led, heavily
shackled, back to his cell.

Large crowds attended the trial, which
opened on schedule. Thompson sat be-
side his Court-appointed counsel, Ren
Thurman, and betrayed no emotion when
the latter sought leniency for his client by
branding hifn as a “psychopathic person-
ality and a monomaniac.” He appeared
dispirited and indifferent to the outcome.
He wore a white shirt, open at the throat,
white linen trousers and white socks. The
heat seemed to bother him more than the
testimony, and, occasionally, he glanced
fixedly at the picture of a pretty: girl that
adorned a wall calendar.

State’s Attorney Champion and _ his
assistants indicated from the outset that
the State would be content with nothing
less than the supreme penalty, yet Thomp-
son gave no sign of emotion as the subject
of “death” was tossed back and forth by
attorneys, At no time during the trial did
he allow his eyes to meet those of his
victim’s father. Hallmark was a daily
spectator, but he did not take the witness
stand. Thompson appeared quite inter-
ested as pretty Ruby Hallmark took the
stand and identified her slain sister’s
clothing.

@ JAILERS REPORTED that the prison-

er ate well and slept like a baby. While
in his cell he spent most of his time read-
ing adventure magazines.

Trial testimony, especially that of Sam
Springle, a youth who had known Thomp-
son for years, indicated that the accused
had attacked women in astonishing
numbers. “Early last year he told me he
intended to get one a week for the year,”
Springle testified. “But along in November
he told me he had already passed his

(Continued from page 47) two weeks.
Every two or three days I talked to Dutch.
He cut the down payment from ten grand
to eight, then to five, and finally to two
grand. I still refused and he made one last
proposition:

(1) No down payment would be neces-
sary but

(2) I must pay him half of any touch
we made, and :

(3) I must tell him in advance of any
sucker I was planning to trim and, if he
didn’t like it, I would have to lay off.

I turned down the deal, just as any smart |

con-man would do.

It’s suicide, you see, for a swindler to
let anyone know too much about his busi-
ness. I might, for instance, trim a sucker
for fifty grand. After giving half to the
Dutchman, paying expenses, and cutting
the balance with the Count, I’d be lucky
to have ten thousand left for myself.

But that wasn’t the worst part. I would
have to give Dutch the chump’s name, and
he presumably would pass the informa-
tion to the crooked politicians and offi-
cials with whom he put in the fix. Now, it
was probable the victim never would make
a squawk, preferring to take his loss in
silence rather than get his name in the
papers as an easy mark.

Weeks, months, or even years might
pass, and then I might be shaken down
by some politician who had been in on
the deal. He would, use this approach:

“I’m sorry, Donnelly, but that chump
you made for fifty grand is squawking.
It'll take fifteen grand to fix the beef.
Better pay up.”

There would be no out for me except
to pay off. The shake would cost me more
than I had netted from the deal. The
politician would keep all of my payoff, of

year’s quota.”

The accused youth’s grandparents and
the mother who bore him when she was
sixteen attended during most of the nine-
day trial.

On July 30th he heard the inevitable
verdict—guilty of first-degree murder.
Judge Joseph E. Daily sentenced him to die
in the electric chair on October 15th, 1935.
He denied a motion for a new trial. For
his part, Thompson took the death sen-
tence calmly. “I expected it,” he said
briefly. “Something in the faces of the
jurors told me all along what was coming.”

John Hallmark declared after the trial,
“I speak for myself and my family when
I say that we are satisfied.”

The condemned youth was promptly
taken to Joliet and placed in death row.
Meanwhile, his attorney did everything
in his power to obtain either a new trial
or a commutation to life imprisonment.
However, Thompson’s hopes were blasted
by Governor Horner, who said, “He is

guilty. There is no reason for me to in-

terfere with the execution.”

Ironically, as the date for his execution
drew near, Thompson embraced the faith
of his innocent victim—Catholicism. On
his last day of life he spent hours talking
to his grief-stricken grandparents and
mother, and he read a farewell note from
his former sweetheart. She admonished
him to be game and trust in God.

For his final meal the condemned slayer
ordered fried chicken, stuffed olives,
lettuce and black walnut ice cream. He
ate the entire meal in silence and then
closeted himself with the prison chaplain
who had effected his conversion. At mid-
night Assistant Warden Ragen and jail
attendants entered and prepared him for
death.

His blue trousers were slit to the knee,

I Took a Million

course, but what would I be able to do?
If I didn’t pay, he could turn me in for
some other caper that would mean a rap.

That’s the reason I always made it a
rule that no one except the con-men in
on a deal with me—and equally culpable
with me—ever knew the inside story.
Otherwise I’d have been bled white al-
most constantly.

So I didn’t do business with Dutch
Schultz. He could have given me the best
of protection in New York, no doubt, but
I didn’t want too many strings on me.

Anyway, as the days passed I made up
my mind that it might not be healthy to
be associated with Dutch. There always
would be the possibility of arguments,
and he knew only one way to settle a
dispute. That was to shoot his opponent
through the head with a .38.

@ CHRISTMAS WAS approaching, so I
slid out of the negotiations with him by
saying I wanted to go back and spend the
holidays with my old friends in my home
town, Indianapolis. I did, too, and never
enjoyed a better pre-Christmas season.
The Count came along and we. arranged
a gala Christmas dinner in the dining-
room of the Lincoln Hotel, where we were
staying. A dozen of my friends—pals from
my days as a lightweight in the prize
ring, former schoolmates, and a couple of
newspapermen I knew—were our guests.
We were just sitting down to dinner
when the waiter told me there was a
telephone call—long-distance from New
York. I didn’t want to interrupt the party,
but the waiter insisted the call was urgent,
so I took it in the hotel lobby. |
I recognized the voice at once. It was
Dutch Schultz, and he was irked. He
had, he announced with violent bursts of

to facilitate application of the electrode,
and a black sateen mask was drawn over
his head. He was plainly reluctant to
don the mask, and an attendant was
forced to lend a hand. His voice quavered,
but his legs were steady as he marched,
unaided and guided only by the light
touch of his confessor, into the execution
chamber.

The spectators’ chamber was crowded,
and John Hallmark, who had sworn never
to rest until he had seen his daughter's
slayer in the electric chair, was present.

@ THE ELECTRODES were fastened one

to his- head, the other to his right leg
directly below the knee. Thompson’s long,
slim hands were strapped to the arms of

‘the chair and the Warden stepped back.

Those closest to the chair heard him
mutter, “I regret all the grief I have
caused.”

The Acting Warden signaled and two
colored lights flashed over the chair. 'The
condemned man stiffened as 1300 volts
coursed through his body. The first shock
lasted ten seconds.

There was a brief pause and then a
second shock of sixty seconds duration
and 500 volts intensity coursed through
his body. The third and final shock
lasted forty seconds and again sent 1300
volts through the condemned youth.

Prison physicians applied their stetho-
scopes and pronounced him dead.

The youthful killer was buried later that
morning at Macomb, Illinois: his relatives
having made arrangements for disposal
of .his body before they left the prison.

Note: In consideration for the persons con-
cerned, the actual names of three characters
mentioned in the foregoing article have been
withheld and fictitious ones substituted:

namely, Alice Nolan, Jerome Blair and
Walter Latham.—ED. .

profanity, been trying to get me on the
phone for six hours.

“I’ve called every blankety-blank fam-
ily named Donnelly in Indianapolis,” he
said, “and this is the fourth Indianapolis
hotel I’ve had on the wire. Why the hell
didn’t you tell me where you’d be staying?
I’ve spoiled my Christmas trying to get
you.”

For a moment I thought that I might
have offended the New York big shot;
that he was angry enough to settle things
with me in his usual way. But that wasn’t
it. He explained:

“The G-men are on your tail. They’ve
been looking around New York for you

' for two days,:I hear. If it was just the

New York law after you I might be able
to do something, but this is Government
heat.”

I started to tell him to calm down, that
I was far from New York and that the
thing wasn’t serious. But he began yam-
mering testily at me before I could finish.

“Don’t be a damn fool, Donnelly! I’ve
got word that the G-men know you’re in
Indianapolis. Get out of there before
you're grabbed. They want you for
trimming that Los Angeles copper, and
it’ll be a tough rap.”

I started to thank him, but he wouldn't
listen.

“I’m not looking for gratitude,” he said.
“T’d do a turn like this for anybody. But
I want you to pay back the dough for all
these phone calls. It must come to fifty
or sixty bucks. You send the money right
away....”

That was the Dutchman. He might do
you a favor, but he wouldn’t let it cost
him anything. I cut him off short and
headed back for the dining-room. I
pulled up at the table panting, and told

MASTER DETECTIVE

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OCTOBER, 1942

“To Springdale Cemetery.”

The officer’s expression tightened. ‘Go
on,” he said.

“Well, he tortured her for a while and
then after she resisted his advances he
finally struck her on the chin, causing her
to lose consciousness. When she finally
regained her senses she was stark naked
and sitting on the bumper of his auto-
mobile. He had a camera in his hands and
he told her he had taken pictures of her.
He threatened to circulate the prints
among her friends if she so much as
breathed a word about her experience.”

“Did he give her a phony name?”

“yes. He said it was Lee Bridges.”

Again the officer nodded. “We've had
other complaints about this camera fiend,”
he admitted. ‘“The name ‘Bridges’ is an
alias. We've checked it. But he’s un-
doubtedly the same man who murdered
Mildred Hallmark and attacked many
other women.”

@ “I AGREE with you,” Newman said

quietly, “and what’s more, I think I
can help you locate him.”

Genuinely surprised, the officer asked,
“How?”

A faint smile creased the engineer’s face.
“I told you this girl had remarkable
presence of mind,” he reminded the offi-
cer. ‘Well, believe it or not, when she
regained consciousness and found herself
sitting in front of this man’s automobile,
she looked at his license number and
memorized it. She figured that if she
wasn’t murdered she would be able to
trace him.”

“What was it?” the Chief demanded
eagerly.

Newman fished a slip of paper out of
his pocket and handed it to the officer.
On it was written the number “816-312.”

The Chief was about to reach for his
telephone when Newman stopped him.
“Don’t bother checking it,” he said. “I’ve
already done that. You see,” he added,
“before this murder occurred, the girl’s
father and I had planned to get our hands
on this fellow and give him the beating
of his life.

“Now, if our suspicions are correct, we
can do even better—we can put him right
where he belongs; in the electric chair.
I found that his name is Jerry Thompson
and that he’s a toolmaker for the Cater-
pillar Tractor Company. He lives at 805
Maryland Avenue. Furthermore, I learned
that he works nights and comes off duty
at twelve-thirty in the morning.”

The name Jerry Thompson struck a
vaguely familiar note in Chief Nussbaum’s
memory. And then he suddenly remem-
bered where he heard it—from the lips of
the girl witness whose home he had vis-
ited. Were Lee Bridges and Jerry
Thompson the same? He recalled the girl’s
statement that Thompson was a toolmaker
at the Caterpillar plant. John Hallmark
worked there in a similar capacity. Was
it not possible, then, that Mildred knew
Thompson casually? Tf true, this would
explain her ready acceptance of his offer
to drive her home.

Nussbaum promptly laid details of the
latest disclosure before his fellow investi-
gators. He then issued instructions to De-
tectives Ford and Welty.

“Go out to the Caterpillar plant and pick
him up when he comes off duty,” he or-
dered. “And,” he added, as the men pre-
pared to leave, “be sure you get his car.”

It was twelve-fifty Friday morning
when Sergeant Frank Riley, of the Cater-
pillar plant police, brought Thompson in-
to a private office where the two Peoria
officers were awaiting his arrival. They
saw a tall, handsome youth of slender
build, with dark, curly hair and finely
chiseled features. He was wearing a pair
of gray work trousers and a white, sleeve-

ocroper, 1942

less shirt, open at the throat.
The youth’s mild blue eyes expressed

his astonishment as the identity of the This Sealed

men was revealed. “Oh,” he said, “I sup- a Book

LOANED

pose you ‘want to talk to me about that
Hallmark case.”

“How did you guess it?” Welty coun-
tered, concealing his surprise. ,

Thompson grinned. “T’ve played around
with a lot of girls in my time, and from
what I’ve read in the papers you fellows
are checking up on every chap who has
had more. than two dates.” pee

“Did you know Mildred Hallmark?” the
detective inquired.

The youth shook his head. “T know her
Dad,” he admitted, “and T’ve seen the girl
a few times when she called for him. But
I never spoke to her.”

“Well, we have orders to take you to
Headquarters,” the officer announced. “Is
your car parked near.by?”

Thompson. frowned. “Can’t you wait
until morning?” he asked. “My grand-
parents will worry if I don’t get home.
You see,” he added, “my prother Victor
and I make our home with them.”

His grandparents, he revealed, were Mr.
and Mrs. George Thompson, of 211 Moneta
Avenue.”

“When did you move?” the detective
asked. A

“Last Monday,” Thompson replied, “We
needed more room.”

Monday, of course, was the day follow-
ing the Hallmark slaying.

“Don’t, worry,” Ford assured the young
toolmaker. ‘‘We’ll see that your family
is notified first thing in the morning.”

The suspect shrugged. “Okay, I suppose
Yl] have to go along,” he said resignedly.
“But you don’t mind if I drive my own
car, do you?”

“I guess not,” Welty told him. “We'll
follow right behind.”

Questioned by Nussbaum and fellow in-
vestigators, the youth remained calm and
collected. He stated that he was twenty-
five years old and that he had formerly
worked for the Bemis Bag Company be-
fore learning the trade of toolmaker. Not-
ing several partially healed scratches on
his chin, the Chief asked, “Where did you
get those, Gerald?”

“Shaving.”

Nussbaum motioned to Detectives Ford
and Welty. ‘Get hold of Mr. Imbau and
go over this fellow’s car,” he said in an
aside. :

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@ ASSISTED BY State’s Attorney’s In-

vestigator Cavanaugh, Nussbaum ques-
tioned Thompson regarding his activities
on Sunday. “We’re especially interested
in what you did after dinner,” he said.

“J had a date with my steady girl,” the
youth replied.

“Who is that?”

“Alice Nolan. She lives with her par-
ents. We’re planning on getting married.”

“And what did you do?”

“We went to the Apollo. We saw Clark
Gable and Connie Bennett in ‘After Office
Hours.”

“What time did you get out of the
theatre?”

“Around eleven o’clock.”

“Then where did you go?”

“TI was pretty tired, so we drove straight
to her home and sat in the car outside
and talked for a while. | I left for home
about eleven-thirty.”

As the investigators were fully aware,
this was around the time Mildred was pre-
sumably riding home ona streetcar.

“Did you visit with your grandparents
or brother before you retired?”

“No, sir. I went straight to bed. I
knew I had a big day ahead of me, as we
were moving.”

Additional questioning failed to shake
the young man’s story or confidence. He

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to Pennsylvania Avenue. There I saw a
girl waiting for a car. She was standing
on the corner, and I saw that she was John
Hallmark’s daughter. I drove up and in-
quired, ‘How far out in the Heights do
you go?’ She said, ‘I go a long way.’ I
asked, ‘What do you call a long way?’ And
she replied, ‘Oh, way out to Maywood.’
Then I said, ‘I go farther than that.’

“T invited her to ride with me and she
refused. Then I told her I knew her Dad,
and after a little more coaxing she got in
with me. I drove out Pennsylvania to
Indiana Avenue, turned left at Indiana to
Ravine, turned right at Ravine to Wis-
consin Avenue, went up Wisconsin to Frye,
turned right onto Prospect and on to Lake
Avenue, which is past Maywood.

“I then turned around at Lake Street
and headed back on Prospect Avenue to
the entrance of the cemetery. I turned and
entered the cemetery while the girl kept
saying that she wanted to go home.

@ “I TOOK the drive to the left and fol-

lowed it to the duck pond,” the youth
continued in a low voice, “and I kept try-
ing to talk her out of being so scared of
me. -

“After I’d parked the car I tried to pet
and kiss her. But I had to hold her because
she kept telling me not to be fresh. She
kept saying, ‘Please take me home.’” The
youth hesitated, and after a moment he
added, “After that I told her what I
wanted. I threatened her until finally she
got into the back seat with me. Then I
did lots of talking, and finally when that
didn’t do any good I tried to use force by
holding her arms behind her back. She
started to scream, so I choked her. Then
when I let go of her throat she bit me on
the left thumb. I jerked my hand away
and she scratched me on the back’ of the
head and on the chin. Then I hit her on
the jaw and she lay back in the seat.”

It was this blow on the chin that dam-
aged the girl’s spinal cord, resulting in her
death.

“During all this struggling did her
clothing get torn?” Champion asked.

“Yes,” Thompson admitted.

“Then what did you do?”

“After I assaulted her I tried to bring
her back to consciousness. But every-
thing I did failed. I tried to listen to her
heartbeat, but my own was beating so
loud I couldn’t tell which was which. Then
I got scared. I had read somewhere that
a nude body is hard to identify, so I cut
away all her clothing with the scissors,
took off her shoes and stockings and then
stuffed her body on the floor between the
seats.

“At first I thought of dumping her along
the road or tossing her off a bridge. I
started the car and drove back to Prospect.
But I was afraid somebody might stop
me, so I turned around where the tree is
in the middle of the road and drove back

down the hill a short way and then ~

stopped. I got out, went around the car
and lifted the girl by the arms and tossed
her over the edge of the bank.”

“Was there any sign of life as you threw
her into the ditch?” Champion asked.

“T didn’t even stop to look,” the youth
replied.

“Was she quiet?”

“Yes.”

This, he stated, occurred around one in
the morning, while the Coroner reported
that death had probably occurred around
two o’clock. Accordingly, officers de-
duced that the unfortunate girl, nude and
lying in a ditch in the middle of a ceme-
tery, died alone an hour later. Whether
or not she regained consciousness for
even a moment will forever remain a
mystery.

Here Thompson described in detail his
activities during the days that followed;

OcTOBER, 1942

how he worked at the same bench at the
Caterpillar Tractor Company with John
Hallmark, father of the slain girl, and how
he even contributed twenty-five cents
toward a fund raised by shopmen to buy
flowers for the victim.

Thompson, of course, operated alone
and consequently. all other suspects named
in this article were absolved of any part
in the crime. Accordingly, they were
released.

Despite his confession and discovery of
the fantastic diary, three women refused
to believe him. guilty of the heinous
crime. They were his grandmother, his
mother, who had remarried, and Alice
Nolan, his broken-hearted girl-friend.

“I don’t believe he would do such a
thing,” his mother sobbed. “He was always
so gentle and good.”

Hysterical to the point where she spoke
of self-destruction, the mother later was
removed to a hospital, suffering from acute
nervous collapse.

Mrs. Thompson echoed the mother’s:

sentiments. “Gerald was as interested as
anyone else in the solution of this crime,”
she insisted. ‘He remarked that no
punishment would be severe enough for
the man responsible. He said he thought
it looked like the work of a negro.”

Loyally, Alice Nolan defended her
sweetheart, the boy who had promised to
marry her. “Jerry always was mighty
fine to me,” she said. “He was very frank
with me about everything. He even told
me about running around with other girls.
Of course I didn’t like that,” she added,
“but he always said, ‘I’m just having my
fling. When we get married I'll settle
down and be a good husband. I have no
use for a married man who steps out on his
wife.’”

Thus, Thompson was revealed as a
Jekyll-Hyde personality, a strange mix-
ture of gentleness and brutality. Some
there were who knew him as a hard-
working youth whose sole objective
seemed to be the care of his aged grand-
parents.

Others recalled him as a youth with
abnormal physical desires, and a habitual
betrayer of women. Lifelong friends de-
clared that sex was constantly upon his
mind.

One of them said:

“When we went hunting and we wanted
to make Gerald miss every shot, we’d
start talking about women. Then he’d go
all to pieces.”

@ THOMPSON admitted that Springdale

Cemetery was one of his favorite tryst-
ing spots. “I liked it in rainy weather
because tire tracks don’t show on its cin-
der drive,” he stated.

Public indignation arose at an alarming
rate as word of the confession leaked out,
and crowds gathered around Police Head-
quarters. To forestall a possible lynching,
officials spirited the youth out of a side
entrance and into a waiting police car. He

was taken to a small jail in an adjacent,

county for the night, and during the next
few days officers played hide and seek
with their prisoner. He was kept under
heavy guard at all times.

A few days later, when the first wave of
anger had subsided and residents were
generally agreed that Thompson could
not escape the chair, anyhow, he was re-
turned to Peoria and arraigned before
Circuit Judge Henry Ingraham. The
prisoner, whose calm had been unruffled
since his confession, took exception to the
clerk’s words: “... malicious and wilful.”

“Where do they get that stuff?” he de-
manded. Then, after entering a plea of not
guilty, he turned to the Judge and said
boldly, ‘All I want is a break.”

“The Judge will preserve for you all
the rights to which you are entitled,” the

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KILLED ¢
WHITE IE

ede,

HE slender form of a pretty girl. lay. . officers
sprawled in the ditch, against a chunk A authori

of concrete retaining wall which had “st longin;
tumbled from the roadway above and “3 Rair
come to rest on the bank of a rambling little the dit:
creek, Be gle. ‘I
Bare legs protruded from under a plaid showed
coat which had been carelessly tossed across 7 and th
the upper part of the body. When the coat have by
was lifted, there were revealed comely young i _ then pi

features and glistening auburn hair. But the
thing upon which the eyes lingered was a lacy
white dress, ripped to shreds, which was
wadded up under the arms.

Near by, as if they had been tossed down
as an afterthought, were underthings which
had been slashed to ribbons, shoes, stockings,

Skit
Kee

a 7 Peoria, Illinois, Police Department
| As told to MERLIN MOORE TAYLOR

the
2) Ses |i Bais aie aaa
; q : stdin: sea Ba EOT AS a . . : :

re
(y hat, a purse and a paper-wrapped parcel
i which proved to contain knitting things and a
om half-finished sweater. aes
hi The reason for all this seemed fairly obvious
ne —the girl had been killed in a desperate, but
fu futile, defense of her honor.
The scene was a wooded spot in Springdale
Cemetery, inside the city limits of Peoria,
A Illinois; the time, early morning of June 17th,
Fo 1935.
Ke _ Discovery of the body was made ‘by Wil-
of | Lovely Mildred liam McGarvey, a cemetery teamster, when '
a Hallarark (eft) his horse shied violently away from the ditch
beside the roadway and he decided to inves-
sat she of the auburn A ¢ y ( 5
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was the victim about to end their lives. : 4
pes / a Aoi nl Detective Harry Whittaker and I—teamed
Str Yee Siar tied for the moment because my partner, Glenn
con Ford, was taking the day off—had just left
hay Police Headquarters in a cruiser car when its
ne\ radio sputtered into action with orders for us 4
con to go to the cemetery. &
Co One glance was enough to tell us that this
for auburn-haired girl was no suicide. Peoria” ©
police cars are equipped with transmitters as |
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“I Saw Gerald Thompson Die”

[Continued from page 13]

D. Whipp. “I pray for her. She comes to
my cell at night. If only she would come
as I try to remember her when I first
picked her up in my car, smiling and
laughing. But no! She comes back with
her face twisted in rage and despair!”

The. church had brought comfort to
Thompson. The visions ceased and he
finally declared himself ready to die. The
Rev. Wier became a great source of com-
fort to him and he was baptized in the
Catholic faith.

“I’m awfully young to die,” I had heard
him say only a short time before we stood
in the execution witness room, “but I’m
ready. I’m going to take it like a man.
They’ve offered me morphine to make it
easier to go to the chair, but I’ve refused
it. I’m going to pay in full.”

Gerald’s last hours had been marked by
visits from his mother, his grandmother,
with whom he had lived for years, and a
brother, Victor, himself in Joliet on a
sentence for a sex crime against a
child.

From a review of the shocking Thomp-
son-Hallmark case, my thoughts were

- jerked back to the present when the lights

in the witness chamber were snapped off.
We were left in a semi-gloom; but the
chair, lit by a strong overhead light, was
thrown into bold relief.

The time had come!

Acting Warden Joseph A. Ragen, who
only a few minutes earlier—at midnight—
had succeeded Warden Whipp, appeared
behind the glass barrier and took a posi-
tion a few feet behind and to the left of
the chair. His first official duty as warden
was to officiate at the execution.

A gasp ran through the spectators. A
man beside me shuddered and moaned,
“I wish I was out of this place! It’s too
creepy!” In the rear of the room there
was a commotion that I later learned was
caused by the swooning of one of the
stalwart thrill-seekers who had come to
see a man executed.

From a doorway leading in from the
side of the execution chamber there
came a scuffling sound. Into our view
came two prison guards ranged on either
side of a ghoulish figure whose head was
covered by a black mask which obscured
his features. It was Thompson, the young
killer and sex braggart.

Thompson's feet were barely touching
the floor as he was propelled by the burly
guards. He wore a white undershirt, bed-
room slippers and trousers that had been
cut off below the knees.

The black mask, or hood, that fell over
his face was open at the top. Exposed
to view was the white, pasty-appearing
skull, left bare by shaving so the skull
cap of death could fit closely to the head.
The arms and legs of the condemned man
were bare for fastening of the electrodes.

Straight to the chair moved the guards
with the slumping figure between them.
Behind Thompson walked Father Wier,
his lips intoning prayers and a rosary in
his hands. Thompson’s lips moved, too,
as he murmured, “Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned.”

Firmly and without a wasted motion,
the guards placed Thompson in the elec-
tric chair. Three other guards sprang for-
ward to help them fasten his arms and
legs, to adjust the deadly head cap and
place the other electrodes in position.

Then the guards stepped back. Warden
Ragen gave a signal. There was a hum-
ming sound as the lethal charge poured
into the chair, crushing the life from
every cell in Thompson’s body. He surged

forward in the chair, straining against the.

straps that held him as the current tensed
his form.

From the metal cap over Thompson's
head, water oozed out of the sheepskin
pad and dripped down over his face. The
moisture saturated the black mask and
left it clinging against his face until every
one of the lust slayer’s features stood

Prison- Made Gun Leads to Death

Working tirelessly for two years, Ethan McNabb, desperate bandit, fashioned this
and four other heavy revolvers from bits of pipe and metal in the shoe shop at San
Quentin prison, California. The weapons were loaded with home-made shells, as-
sertedly manufactured from chemicals stolen from the prison hospital. Use of the
pictured gun, in an attempted break, led to McNabb’s execution. Ironically, the
convict had placed a metal inlay of the “scales of justice” on the weapon.

DARING

‘:
-

secteoamaes

forth. It wa
I shall never
For thirty
strained agai
burned thro:
every nerve
dead when
lightning str
Illinois takes
Again the
three guard:
switches. C
the electricit
knew which
execution.
The currer
ond signal.
the chair, un:
went on to:
tinct. Twice
into the chz
demned man
forward agai
Then the
out and the
to make sur:
cidental elec
the straps t!
line of seve:
chair.
Each plac:
_dead man’s
assuring hin
alty had bec
Into the e>
men in whi
lift the corr
it in along v
was carried
hearse and t
On the fol
was buried i
Illinois.

Thor

UT the
great m
after month
to his death.
embodied in
ment which
he was exe:
It is pres
Father Wei
son, that he
for others t.
and as an
Maker.
“Father,
Thompson »
“These sh
after 12 o'c]
going with
or the thou
I have caus
“Tam goi
chair. I ha:
“ ‘What?’
that frame .
or lying!’ ‘
of the com
many upon
am I? If
statement,
hampered a
“Two mo
the electric
sentment i
laughed. I
life, and eve
of God. §
the other \
me, in my
“T consid:
beciles and
death and
for me to

DETECTI

com the
r there
ur view
n either
ead was
bscured
e young

ouching
1e burly
irt, bed-
ad been

‘ell over
exposed
pearing
1e skull
1¢ head.
red man
ctrodes.
- guards
n them.
r Wier,
sary in
ed, too,
Father,

motion,
he elec-
ing for-
ms and
‘ap and
ion.
Varden
a hum-
poured
e from
surged
inst the
tensed

npson’s
zepskin
:e. The
sk and
il every
: stood

ed this
at San
lls, as»
of the
ly, the

on.

.RING

forth. It was a gruesome sight; one that

I shall never forget.

For thirty seconds Thompson’s body
strained against the straps as the current
burned through his body, annihilating
every nerve and cell. He was probably
dead when the first jolt of controlled
lightning struck him, but the State of
Illinois takes no chances.

Again the acting warden signalled and
three guards behind the scenes pulled
switches. Only one switch controlled
the electricity, hence none of the guards
knew which one actually performed the
execution,

The current was cut upon Regan’s sec-
ond signal. Thompson slumped back in
the chair, undoubtedly dead. But the law
went on to make sure that life was ex-
tinct. Twice more the current was shot
into the chair, and each time the con-
demned man’s form was thrown violently
forward against his restraining bonds.

Then the switches again were thrown
out and the master switch was released
to make sure that there would be no ac-
cidental electrocutions, Guards released
the straps that had held the body and a
line of seven doctors began passing the
chair.

Each placed a stethoscope against the
dead man’s chest, then passed on after
assuring himself that the law’s full pen-
alty had been taken.

Into the execution chamber stepped two
men in white. Guards helped them to
lift the corpse from the chair and place
it in a long wicker basket. Then the body
was carried outside to be placed in a
hearse and taken to Peoria.

On the following day Gerald Thompson
was buried in the family plot at Macomb,
Illinois,

Thompson’s Last Message

BU the full story of Thompson—the
great moral lesson that he learned
after months of crime and before he went
to his death—has not yet been told. It is
embodied in an amazing 800-word state-
ment which he wrote a few hours before
he was executed,

It is presented here, with the word of
Father Weir and others close to Thomp-
son, that he intended it as a sincere plea
for others to guard against crime and sin
and as an expression of love for his
Maker.

“Father, to thee I offer my _ soul,”
Thompson wrote.

“These shall be my last words. Shortly
after 12 o'clock tomorrow morning I am
going with my mind full of peace, except
for the thought of the trouble and sorrow
I have caused.

“I am going to my death in the electric
chair. I have resentment toward no one.

“‘What?’ ‘The lust-crazed slayer in
that frame of mind?’ ‘He is either crazy
or lying!’ ‘Impossible!’ These are some
of the comments that will be voiced by
many upon reading the above words. But
am I? If you will read the following
statement, I shall endeavor to explain,
hampered as I am by lack of rhetoric.

“Two months ago, if told I could go to
the electric chair without malice or re-
sentment in my heart, I would have
laughed. I could not believe in eternal
life, and even had doubts of the existence
of God. Science and evolution pointed
the other way; at least so it seemed to
me, in my pitiful store of knowledge.

“I considered religion the guide for im-
beciles and superstitious ones afraid of
death and hell-fire. There was nothing
for me to be worried about: I would

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NGING weiisnseiscd itecarisneassviceaacessreccceeticxidinnnpeeeunnie

{ a pretty’ girl lay:
+h, against & chu
ag wall which had
-oadway above an
of a rambling little

rom under a plaid
alessly tossed across
dy. When the coat
‘ealed comely young
iburn hair. But the
; lingered was & lacy
shreds, which was

d been tossed down
. underthings whic.

yns, shoes, stockings, ’
per-wrapped parce
-pitting things and a

seemed fairly obvious
d in a desperate, ut
nor. :

ed spot in Springdale
ity limits of Peoria,
morning of June 17th,

_y was made by Wil-
etery teamster, when
- away from the ditch
i he decided to inves-
the police was that it
icide—graveyards, for
ttract persons who are

ittaker and [teamed
se my partner, Glenn
day off—had just left
a cruiser car when its
tion with orders for us

igh to tell us that this
is no suicide. |
od with transmitters as
I at once reported ‘to
was murder.

the arrival of other

pan he

Peoria ©

—_—_

the Gl

DRESS

officers and someone from the coroner’s office vested with
authority to -move the body and examine the dead girl’s be-

longings, Whittaker and I made a survey of the vicinity.

Rain had fallen about three a. M. but in the soft earth of
the ditch there were neither foot-prints nor signs of a strug-
gle. The sloping bank at the foot of which the girl lay
showed only where her-body had slid down it. From that
and the position of the body we concluded that she must
have been placed in a sitting position at the top of the bank,

then pushed over the edge.

On the roadway itself there was no clue. The surface was
too hard to have registered foot-prints or marks of tires if,
as seemed probable, an automobile had brought the body there.

Whittaker and I were scouting around for a possible death
weapon when other police cars arrived, bringing Chief Fred
Nussbaum Hard on their heels
came Deputy Coroner Glen Gumm.

Gumm went methodically to work examining the body,
pointing out as he found them a laceration of the scalp, sev-
eral slight discolorations on the throat and a dark bruise on
the left jaw. When he started to turn the body over, the
head dangled in such a way as to make it obvious that the
neck was broken. There wasn’t another mark on her.

Only one theory as to how the girl had met death was
tenable. While her throat was held by strong fingers, as in

His head buried in his hand, the sex-crazed killer (left) staggers into

court. (Below) An officer inspects the spot where the r
the girl in the white dress was found, slumped in a cemetery ditch

avished body of

s a powder puff. A
erchief had fallen to
There was no money

wonder. Probably a

steel highway in the
iy to one of the win-
” was level with the
the hotel fire escape

t up here,” said Mc-
ure. “He could easily
across the third rail
steps to the window.”
center of a group of

ied, “to keep the win-
1 front of it so anyone
ve her warning.”
eman.

said the policeman.

iallway inquisition by
‘usband to the Central

experts, police photog-
itenant Otto Erlanson,
squad, arrived on the

fingerprint man, into
touch of dry humor,

| and see-if you can get
the officers of Central

ste-book which was
_ led directly to the

The Adler, Planetarium, above, near where the killer slept on the
grass after committing the fiendish crime. Police believed the
entry in note-book, fight, referred to the Berkshire Hotel next door
to the one in which Mrs. Castle was slain. However, the suspect

refused to admit it and the matter was dropped.

Photographers were ordered to snap pictures of the corpse
from a half dozen-different angles and policemen were dis-
patched to question employees and guests of the hotel.

“We must talk to every one of them,” said Erlanson, “and
se baiaeg those who were on duty during the past twelve

ours.”

Coroner’s Physician Matthew Kiley stepped into the room.
His eyebrows lifted in quizgical fashion.

“Ah,” he said, “another hotel murder. I bet there’s a
fire escape outside the window.” -

“Right,” said Erlanson. “There always is. This is the
third murder of a woman ip a hotel room in three
months.” e

Doffing his coat, Doctor Kiley began a swift ex-
amination of the body.

“Dead at least twelve hours,” he said, adding with a
compassionate shake of his head, ‘poor woman—her head
is crushed like an eggshell under a steam roller. Her slayer
must be a homicidal maniac.”

“Raped?” asked Lieutenant Erlanson.

“A hard question to answer just now,” said the physician.
“T’l] Have to make a more thorough examination at the -
morgue.”

“What kind of a weapon was used?”

“Difficult to say,” responded the coroner’s aid. “The. same
kind of-weapon used to kill the other two women—a. brick
—may have been employed here.”

Policemen who had been questioning other persons in the

hotel’ reported
they. had been un-
able to find anyone who
could assist them. Mr. and
Mrs. Herbert Barry, members of

a theatrical company, who occupied the room next to that
of the Trammells, said they had not heard or seen anything

suspicious,
“If the murder happened twelve hours ago,” said Mrs.
2 .
i Sia a

li A cA a gti nia
‘

Because the perpetrator of a similar crime was lo-
cated in Grant Park, a police dragnet thrown
around that vicinity resulted in the round-up of the
men, above. After thorough checking, these men
were found to be innocent and were released.

and wrong, committed murder before dawn.
Swift, efficient police work, which would have done
credit to. Sherlock Holmes, brought the killer to jus-
tice, forming another bright chapter in the brilliant
history of the law-enforcing agencies of Chicago.
Thomas Trammell, dining car conductor, hurried
from the Grand Trunk Depot shortly before four

o’clock on the sunny afternoon of Sunday, August~

16th, 1936.

“Hey, Tom!” cried a brakeman. “Stop and have
a drink.’

“No,” answered Trammell, with a happy grin, “the
wife’s waiting.”

“Aw,” laughed the other, as Trammell passed on,
“you newlyweds are all the same.”

Carrying a small box of sweets which he had pur-
chased for his wife from the candy butcher on the
train, Trammell hastened to the nearby State Hotel,
553 South State Street, in the so-called “burlesque
theater belt.”

Greeting John W. Bon;‘the clerk, Trammell asked:

“Is my key in the box?”

“No, Mr. Trammell,” answered the clerk. “Your
wife must be upstairs.” ~ if

Taking two steps at a bound, Trammell ascended

to the third floor, where he’ rapped on the door of.

‘Room 250. There was no.answer. Again he knocked

‘Left: Unidentified young woman and Mrs. Florence
Thompson Castle, right, pretty night club hostess,
slain by a killer who invaded her hotel room. Her
son, Jimmy, seated, witnessed the murder which is
_ still unsolved,

—louder
the port:

Frow;
and lifte:
he gazed
tremblin;

to the th:
side the «
“Give
Tramm
the clerk.
the door,
“My G
Vainly,
had been
remained
~ del: tr
adjoining
He ste;
the alley ;
the Tram
Her nu
sheets anc
mask of ;
heap at th
With tr
admitted
blood-clott
woman, th

SS ee

ND farts ioe 9 a he

20 AMERICAN. DETECTIVE

“Tt’s murder !”

“Oh, Mary! Mary!” sobbed Trammell, throwing himself
on the bed beside the broken body of his wife. “My darling,”

Bon picked up the telephone and put through a call to
police headquarters, less than a quarter of a mile south on
State Street. Lieutenant James McCarthy at the head of a
squad of detectives arrived within five minutes.

Without touching it,, the police official made a careful
examination of the body. The’ young woman had been the

victim of a monster. Her eyes had been blackened by savage

blows. Her throat bore the marks of fiendish fingers. A
gaping, three-inch wound was visible below the hairline of
her left temple. Lifting the sheets that covered the body,
Lieutenant McCarthy declared: fee
: “She appears
to have been
raped, too.”
On a chair
beside the
bed lay the
young wo-
man’s
purse, It
had been
opened

Thomas Trammell, dining car ‘conductor and
husband of the murdered woman, as
he appeared at the coroner's
inquest.

and its

contents scattered. Under the bed was a powder puff. A
lipstick lay near the door. Her handkerchief had fallen to
gpd and had been trampled upon. There was no money
in sight. a

“Robbed?” muttered McCarthy. “I* wonder. Probably a
blind to throw us off the trail.” ;

The roar of an elevated train on its steel highway in the
alley canyon drew Lieutenant McCarthy to one of the win-

“dows of the room. A spur of the “L” was level with the
second-floor windows. A landing of the hotel fire escape
was just a few feet from the tracks.

“That’s probably how the killer got up here,” said Mc-
Carthy, pointing to the elevated structure. “He could easily
climb up the pillar to the tracks, step across the third rail
onto the fire escape and come up the steps to the window.”

Weeping quietly, Trammell was the center of a group of
policemen and reporters in the hall. _

“TI told her a hundred times,” he cried, “to keep the win-
dow locked, or at least place a chair in front of it so anyone
entering would make a racket and give her warning.”

“How old are you?” asked a policeman.

“Forty,” answered Trammell. ;

“And your wife?”

“Twenty-four.” .

. “Quite a disparity in your ages,” said the policeman.
“Did you ever have any fights ?”

Lieutenant McCarthy ended the hallway. inquisition by
ordering the detectives: to take the husband to the Central
Station to make a statement.

Leading a phalanx of fingerprint experts, police photog-
raphers and other investigators, Lieutenant Otto Erlanson,
quiet-voiced chief of the homicide squad, arrived on the
scene and took charge of the case.

Pushing Sergeant John Donohue, fingerprint man, into
the death room, Erlanson with a touch of dry humor,
commanded :

“Spread your white powder around and see if you can get
any fingerprints other than those of the officers of Central
Station.”

Laundry ticket taken from a note-book which. was
dropped-in-a previous hotel foray, led directly to the
sie wanted man.

The Adi
grass af
entry in
to the c

so '

Photograp
from a half |
patched to qi

“We must
especially th«
hours.”

’ Coroner’s |
His eyebrow

“Ah,” he
fire escape o

“Right,” s:
third murder
months.”

Doffing his
amination of

“Dead at |

" compassionate

is crushed lik
must be a ho
» “Raped?” <
“A hard qu
“T’ll have to
morgue.”
“What kin
“Difficult to
kind of -weapx
—may have t
Policemen \

of a similar crime was lo-
a police dragnet thrown
ted in the round-up of the
ough checking, these men
cent and were released.

urder before dawn.

ork, which would have done
;, brought the killer to jus-
zht chapter in the brilliant
ng agencies of Chicago.

ing car conductor, hurried
Depot shortly before four
-rnoon of Sunday, August~

orakeman. “Stop and have
‘ell, with a happy grin, “the

or, as Trammell passed on,
fe same.”

{ sweets which he had pur-
the candy butcher on the
to the nearby State Hotel,
in the so-called “burlesque

the clerk, Trammell asked :

inswered the clerk. “Your

bound, Trammell ascended

he rapped on the door of.

answer. Again he knocked

woman and Mrs. Florence
pretty night club hostess,
aded her hotel room. Her
essed the murder which is
nsolved.

S aN

CHICAGO'S JUNGLE SLAYING ©

- -louder this time. He listened with his ear pressed against
the portal, but no stirring came from within. ....

Frowning in puzzlement, he gripped the lintel of the door
_and lifted himself so he-could’ peer through the transom: As .

he gazed inside, his face blanched. He dropped tothe floor,
trembling in every limb. Like a drunken man, he staggered
to the lobby, crying for Bon.

-“Something’s wrong !” he exclaimed. “My door’s locked.
Looked over the transom. Mary’s covered with blood.”

Snatching a ring of keys from a hook. Bon hurried
to the third-floor room. The husband followed. Out-
side the door, they halted. f

“Give me a boost,” said Bon.

Trammell made a stirrup of his hands and lifted
the clerk. Looking through the pane of glass above
the door, Bon cried: :

“My God! It:looks serious.”

Vainly, he attempted to open the door. But it
had been locked from the inside and the key still
remained in the lock. .

“Yl try another way,” said Bon, entering an
adjoining apartment.

He stepped onto the fire escape that overlooked
the alley and went along ‘it to the open window of
the Trammell room.

‘Her nude body partly covered by blood-stained
sheets and pillows, her pretty face set in a horrible

“mask of agony, Mrs. Trammell lay in a contorted
heap at the edge of the bed.

With trembling hands, Bon opened the door and : et
“admitted the ashen-faced husband. Pointing to.the . ‘ Ro eee
_ blood-clotted brunette curls of the young and attractive
woman, the clerk cried: ©

The excellent direction

.of detectives by Lieu-

tenant Otto Erlanson,

above, head of the

‘homicide squad, led

' to the solution of the
SE ettery.

The rear of the hotel
faced an alley over
which the elevated
ran. The prowler
. jumped ‘and was able
to grasp the fire es-
cape ladder which
: pulled it down, left.
Arrow indicates his
route from there to
the window of Mrs.
Trammeil's bedroom.

ana

the payehiatvist, “Is the boy telling the
truth?” he asked. “Did he tell you the
sume story as he told to us?”

Rothman smiled. “Jimmy is — still
sticking to his. story,” he replied. “As
to the truth of it all—well, I’m not pre-
pared to state, All I can say is that ’m
convinced Jimmy thinks it is the truth.

“There’s a possibility, however, of a
dream being mixed up in the story. He
may have awakened partly and seen the
man in the room. Falling asleep again,
he might have dreamed of the intruder
speaking to him and striking his mother.
He might have dreamed the man was a
negro and huge in size. 7

“In any event, Jimmy. thinks it is all
true.” ae

Chief Sullivan asked another question.
“Ts it possible that some one has coached
the boy in the story; that he was tol
what he should tell the police?”

Dr. Rothman shook his head. There
was no_ possibility of such a thing, he
said. He added that it was perfectly
plausible for Jimmy to have fallen. into’
a deep slumber again, even if he had
wakened to the horror of his mother be-
ing struck by a prowler. _

“CHILDREN ‘are like» that,” he said,
“and* so *are some adults. They do

not fully realize what is going on about

them for a short time after awakening.

“Jimmy might well have returned to
sleep, especially considering that’ he was
very tired after his train ride and the ex-
citement of seeing his mother.”

By this time the Chicago newspapers
were calling im black headlines for solu-
tion of the Castle murder, and.demanding
that the police halt such outrages.’ Leaders

° a’ 4 >
In women’s clubs, the Parent-Teacher As- .

sociation and church groups added their
protests against the slayer of Florence
Castle remaining at large. -*

The Chicago Herald. and Examiner

printed a long list of ‘sex’crimes under

the heading: ces z
Chicago Will Not .Condone These Crimes!

eae eae em we ee Ce

The list of offénses included-the murder
of Mrs. Lillian Guild, sixty ’years vold;-in
her room at the Young }Women’s<Chris-
tian Association Hotel, 830. South;-Michi-
gan .Avenue, on the previous May 9th,
less than two months before the Devon-

shire slaying.

As in the Castle case, Mrs. ‘Guild_had .

been attacked, and beaten to death with
a brick, by a killer who entered through
the window of her bedroom. The same
fiend could not have been responsible,
however, for Thomas Starr, negro, already
had confessed the Guild murder and had

~ been sentenced to 199 years in Joliet.

Five days after the Guild slaying, a
negro prowler had entered the St. Luke’s
Hospital Nurses’ Home, 1423 South
Michigan Avenue, struck Nurse Lois
Reichert with a brick and escaped after
other nurses sounded an alarm.

In the previous six months murderous’

rowlers had entered no less than five
10tels in the downtown sector. In each
case women had been attacked, sometimes
cruelly beaten and robbed, In several in-
stances the phantom had carried a brick,
subduing the victim by striking her over
the head.

“We are in the midst of a wave of sex
crimes,” Dr. Rothman said as he reviewed
the list of shocking offenses. “It may be
possible that the slayer of Florence Castle
is responsible for several of them.

“One thing is certain—if that killer is,

allowed to remain at large, other women
will suffer at his hands! He is as danger-
ous as any mad dog ever allowed to roam
the streets in search of prey!”

geants, were waiting.

Master Detective

Afler hearing Dr. Rothman’s report on
the examination of Jimmy, Chief Sullivan
went to a squad room where twenty-four
picked police officers, eight of them ser-

The Chief addressed the assembled men
briefly.. His voice was serious and_ his
expression grimly determined. He in-
formed them that they were to have the
assignment of hunting down the slaycr of
Florence Castle.

“This is a job,” he told them, “that
vitally concerns every decent man_ in
Chicago. Ashamed though I am to admit
it, girls and women are not safe in this
city. Our own wives and daughters are in
peril of being outraged—or murdered.

“If atrocities such as the Florence Castle
case continue, Chicago will have an in-

finitely worse reputation than during the

days of Al Capone, when our city bore
the shame of being known as ‘America’s

’ Crime Capital?

-Bernart Macfadden Foundation

The Bernarr Macfadden Foundation
conducts various non-profit enterprises:
The Macfadden-Deauville Hotel at Miami
Beach, Florida, one of the most beauti-
ful resorts on the Florida Beach, recrea-
tion of all kinds provided, although a rigid
system of Bernarr Macfadden methods of
health building can be secured.

The Physical Culture Hotel, Dansville,
New York, will also be open during the
winter, with accommodations at greatly
reduced prices, for health building and
recreation,

The Loomis Sanitarium at Liberty, New
York, for the treatment of Tuberculosis has
been taken over by the Foundation, and
Bernarr Macfadden’s treatments, together
with the latest, most scientific medical pro-
cedures can be secured here for the treat-
ment, in all stages, of this dreaded disease,

Castle Heights Military Academy at
Lebanon, Tennessee, a man-building, fully
accredited school preparatory for college,
placed on the honor roll by designation
of the War Department’s governmental
authorities, where character building is the
most important part of education.

The Bernarr Macfadden Foundation
School for boys and girls from three to
eleven, at Briarcliff Manor, New York.
Complete information furnished upon re-
' quest. .

’

“This killing must be solved.”

i+ Chief Sullivan divided the twenty-four
imen into eight squads, each commanded
‘by a’sergeant. He had selected them for
‘intelligence and courage. They were the
i best men from every detail of the Police
Department—homicide, stolen auto, pick-

pocket, narcotics, burglary and other di-.

visions.

“You men will have no regular hours,”
he told them. “You will be on duty or
available to call around the clock. The
assignment will last until this case goes
into the books as solved—until the mur-
derer of Florence Castle dics in the elec-
tric chair. i

“IT want you to bring in every man in
Chicago who has ever been suspected of
having. criminal tendencies of this type.
Bring in mashers, Peeping Toms and fel-
lows who have annoyed women in any
way. Bring them all in! From among
those you arrest, we may find the right
man.”

Police Commissioner James P. Allman,
at the same time, added extra squads to
night duty in’ the Loop. Those men were
instructed to patrol alleys and watch hotel
fire escapes. Similar precautions were
taken in other sections of the city.

From’ the Commissioner’s office, also,
came orders that hotels must place metal
screens that: could be removed only from
the inside over all windows opening di-
rectly: on fire escapes. Fire escape doors
must be equipped with locks that could
be opened only from-the inside, he de-

creed, He was taking no chances on a
repetition of the Castle murder,

At the State’s Attorney's office, Proso«
cutor Courtney established a “Sex Crime
Bureau,” headed by Dr. Rothman and
Assistant State’s Attorney Samuel <A.
Papanek. Five of the city’s most famous
psychiatrists were appointed to thé bu-
reaws staff.

“The man we want is probably mentally
deranged,” Courtney. explained in a press
interview. “At least he has moronic lean-
ings. It is probable that trained psychi-
atrists might spot such a man more readily
than a police officer. ,

“Through the new bureat will pass every
sex crime suspect arrested in Chicago and
Cook County. Members of the bureau’s
staff will pass upon the problem of han-
dling each case.”

Courtney also drafted a new State law
providing that any defendant found by
examination to be abnormal or dangerous
might be confined in a State institution
for life, or until cured of twisted mental
conditions,

“We will use this method for getting off
the streets all men who might commit
crimes against women,” the Prosecutor an-
nounced. “Such crimes are increasing,
not only in Chicago, but in all cities.
Chicago proposes to do something about
it.”

So efficiently did Chief Sullivan’s eight
squads operate that within twelve hours
they had brought in 263 men for ques-
tioning. More than half of these had
been confined at one time or another in
asylums for the insane or had been con-
victed of criminal assault,

Because Nurse Reichert and Jimmy
Thompson had declared a negro guilty in

the St. Luke’s Hospital and Devonshire so

Hotel crimes, a majority of those seized
were of that race. ‘They were put through
the Bureau of Identification, but none of
their fingerprints matched. those of the
Castle slayer,

On the evening of August Ist, Jimmy
was brought from a downtown hotel,
where he had been under the care of a
police matron, to the showup room at
Headquarters. Also present was Nurse
Reichert.

THE nurse and the youngster sat with

police officers in a darkened part of the
long, theatre-like room. At a signal from
Chief Sullivan ten prisoners, handcuffed
in pairs, filed in, mounted a platform and
stood beneath glaring white lights. They
were suspects taken in the city-wide drag-
net.

Questioned by Lieutenant Archie Kane,
the prisoners were required to tell their
criminal records and the circumstances of
being arrested. Nurse Reichert’ and the
Thompson boy listened to their voices,
watched while the suspects turned: about
on the platform to give them front and
profile views.

Again and again the procedure was re-
peated. Men of all races, sizes and de-
scriptions were paraded beneath — the
glaring lights. When all the suspeets had
appeared, Miss Reichert and Jimmy were
asked if they had recognized any of them.

Will Nurse Reichert or little Jimmy
Thompson be able to identify any of the
suspects? Or is the maniacal killer still at
large, free to roam the streets and prey on
other defenseless women? How will the
police cope with this monster in human
form? °

Watch for the second gripping install-
ment of this fascinating story, in which
new and dramatic developments add to
the puzzling nature of the case. Appearing
in the April issue of MASTER DETECTIVE,
on sale at all news stands March 15th.

“Way

> a

He had, the boy added, slept soundly
for some time, Dawn was beginning to
break when he had awakened, His mother
Was lying still and cold beside him. She
had not answered when he tried to arouse
her.

Even then, Jimmy said, he had not
heen frightened. He had washed, brushed
his teeth, dressed and gone to the desk
in the lobby to seek help.

That was the amazing story told by the
slain woman’s little son. There appeared
on the surface to be many flaws in it, and
to Chief Sullivan and some of the other
officers on the case the tale was well nigh
incredible.

But the youngster stuck to the ex-
planation with a tenacity that could not
be shaken. Questioned over and over
about various points, he responded with
almost the same words.

From employees of the hotel it was
learned that the mother had come in with
her son, apparently carefree and happy,
about ten o’clock the previous evening,
which was Sunday. She and Jimmy had
spent a few minutes in the lobby, during
which the precocious boy had been in-
troduced to a number of his mother’s
friends.

Florence had taken the child up to bed
and returned downstairs in about a half-
hour. She had remained in the cocktail
lounge and around the lobby until one
A.M. Then she had gone up to her room,
bidding good night to the clerk, Richard-
son, and a number of other acquaintances.

The young woman certainly had no
premonition that she was going to a
rendezvous with Death. She had seemed
completely happy, rejoicing to be reunited
with her young son.

The attendant on the elevator was cer-
tain that no man had gone to Florence’s
room with her. Nor had she, during the
interval between her child’s bedtime and
her own retiring, been seen with any
strangers. There had not even been a
telephone call for her, records of the hotel

the ‘Tr

(Upper right, reading down)
Faber Castle, with whom
Florence eloped after a child-
hood romance; John Bolin,
third husband of the slain girl;
James Thompson. father of
little Jimmy. He flew to Chi-
cago to aid~the authorities

(Seated, left to right) As-
sistant State’s Attorney Papa-
nek, Chief of Detectives Sulli-
van, Captains Gill, Prendergast
and Stege, Attorney Wilbur
Crowley, State’s Attorney
Courtney and Police Commis-
sioner Allman. (Standing)
Captains Goldberg and Gilbert

Sergeant Edward Stepek
(right), who took part in the
tireless hunt for the elusive noc-
turnal phantom, holds the brick
that spelled death for pretty
Florence Castle Thompson

iil of Murder

switehboaurd showed on bemg examined,

Kellow employees at the Nut House
were questioned, but no one could: give
any reason for which Florence Castle
might have been killed.

Chicago’s

[ATO the police net came a red-haired’

girl who once had been employed with
Tlorence as hostess in a North Side night
club. She professed to know nothing
definite, but she ‘gave Chief Sullivan some
ideas about the possibilities of the case.

“Florence was a good kid and I liked
her,” said the redhead, “but every girl
employed as a hostess has to watch her
step. We have to jolly the men along
to make them spend money, and some-
times one of them gets pretty nasty when
his bank roll is gone and he finds out that
things aren’t going to be put on—well, a
more personal basis.

“Jealous wives are another danger. <A
girl friend of mine got a knife stuck in
her by a wife not long ago. Then, too,
most of us have boy friends, and some-
times the boy friend gets mean when
things don’t go right.”

Despite the tawdry surroundings in
which she worked, Florence apparently
had struggled hard and _ successfully to
maintain decency in her private life. She
was known at the Devonshire as quiet
and well-behaved. Her associations with
men were of the impersonal kind.

Never had she been known to resort
to the vicious business of slipping knock-
out drops into a man’s drink in the cafés
where she worked, so that accomplices
could rob him later. Never, her associates
declared, had she used the racket of black-
mailing a married man with threats of
telling his wife about his strayings from
home.

Such practises were well known in the
lower levels of Chicago cafédom, but Mrs.
Castle had never even been suspected of
them.

Fingerprint experts finished dusting the -

dead woman’s (Continued on page 78)

Monster 11

es a

iy,
me ee eR RRR ere «

negro aan EE TE oe

a eomemiesecis

March, 1939

and owned no valuable jewels,

The hotel management disclosed that
she was three weeks behind in her room
rent. Only a few days earlier she had
borrowed fifteen cents from a bell boy,
saying she needed the money for breakfast.
Certainly she would have been a poor
prospect for a robbery!

A definite motive neared establishment,
however, when the office of Dr. Clarence
Mucehlberger, physician for the office of
Coroner Frank J. Walsh, made a report
on the autopsy. Mrs. Castle had been at-
tacked by her murderer!

“I was afraid of that,’ Chief Sullivan
said. “Our job now is to catch a sex crim-
inal—the kind of maniac who kills only
to satisfy his lust. As any experienced
police officer knows, that is the most elu-
sive and cunning type of murderer.”

The Chief paused and chewed thought-
fully at his cigar. “And unless I’m wrong,”
he declared, “we’ll have more cases of
this kind, more murders of women. Kill-
ers of that type never stop at a single
crime!”

Headquarters for the police hunt were
established at the East Chicago Avenue
station house. From there Chief Sullivan,
Captain O’Brien and Captain Daniel Gil-
bert directed two score detectives in
dogged efforts to trace every move that
Florence Castle had .made through the
shadowy labyrinths of. Chicago’s night life.

Into the police station on the afternoon
following discovery of the murder came a
thin, dark young man. His eyes were
red from weeping and his face was haggard.

“My name is Sidney Schapps,” he an-
nounced. “I read in the papers a few
hours ago about-Florence’s death. I want
to help the police all I can.”

Schapps identified himself as the “Sid”
who accompanied Florence and little Jim-
my on the Lake Michigan boat ride. He
liad, he declared, been Florence’s best
friend. To him she had always gone for
advice and consolation in times of dis-
tress.

“There never was any love affair be-
tween us.” Schapps hastened to say.
“I’m married and Florence knew my wife
well. We were just friends. I admired
her as a talented girl. I always hoped she
might recover her voice fully and become
the success that she deserved to be.”

Schapps was a singer at the Palm
Gardens, a night club not far from the Nut
House. Florence often stopped in to visit
him there on her way home from work.
Sometimes they sang duets for the patrons,
with his mellow tenor striving to cover
up the uncertainties of her voice. In that
way he had tried to give her new confi-
dence and training.

He had been at work in the club from
ten Pp. M. until six A. M., during which
hours the murder had been committed.

“T intended to telephone Florence this
evening,” he said. “I knew she was short
of money and I wanted to offer her a
loan.”

From Schapps the investigators learned
of the man with whom Florence had quar-
reled at the bar three nights before her
death and of the man who had begged her
to ride in his automobile. The man at the
bar—a rising young lawyer—was located,
as Florence had told Schapps of him. *

The lawyer, whose name police withheld
to avoid harming his career, gave an air-
tight alibi for the period during which
Mrs. Castle was slain. He had been at a
café in another section of the city with
several friends. He could not possibly be
the killer.

“I loved Florence,” he declared. “TI
wouldn’t do*a thing in the world to harm
her. She didn’t care for me, so I de-
cided on the night of our quarrel that I
wouldn’t see her again.”

Master Detective

Minding the man who bind neeosted Ilor
ence from his automobile as she walked
home was a different matter. A dozen in-
vestigators worked on the angle, but there
was nol a single clue to his identity.

Located with Schapps’ help were Rob-
ert LaFranda and James Kirby, guests
at the Devonshire. They were the men
who had witnessed the incident from
across the street, but darkness at the time
had prevented their obtaining a description
of the mysterious suitor or his automobile.

“There’s something mighty — strange
about that man,” Schapps declared. “Flor-
ence mentioned him to me, but she
wouldn’t tell me his name or anything
concerning him. She didn’t seem to want
to talk about the fellow, just said he
had been following her around and annoy-
ing her. She appeared sort of embar-
rassed about it, and I had an idea she
might be afraid of him.”

Thus did the man in the automobile
become the prime object of the quest—a
quest that Chief Sullivan promised grim-
ly would continue unabated until justice
had been done.

Found at his work in a motor parts
factory on the far South Side of Chicago
was I'aber Castle, twenty-seven years old,
the first husband of Florence. He lived
at 7742 South Damen Avenue. Detectives
informed him that his former wife had
been murdered.

Castle paled and tears rolled down his
cheeks. Sobs shook his body. Taken to
the Chicago Avenue Police Station, he
recovered sufficiently to tell the story of
his marriage to the glamorous blonde-who
now lay dead in the morgue. :

“Florence and I eloped when we were
just youngsters,” he said. “The marriage
lasted less than six months. I wasn’t earn-
ing much money and she loved pretty
things and good times.

“Her only thoughts were of becoming a
great singer, and I guess I didn’t have
much sympathy with her ambitions. Any-
way. we drifted apart.”

Although Faber and Florence no longer
were in love, they had held each other in
high esteem, and had seen each other fre-
quently. Only a week earlier he had
loaned her $10. That had been their last
meeting.

A hard-working, earnest young man,
Castle had little trouble convincing police
that he had no knowledge of the murder
of his ex-wife. Like Sidney Schapps, he
provided a full, straightforward account
of his whereabouts at the time of the
slaying.

Likewise located were Florence’s other
two husbands, James Thompson, father of
little Jimmy, and John Bolin, her third
spouse,

Thompson was in Detroit and had not
been away from the Michigan city for a
year, Bolin had an even better defense
against any suspicion. He was serving
time in the Colorado Penitentiary at Col-
orado City for robbery.

By the time the investigation had
reached this stage, it was midnight on
Monday, eighteen and a half hours after
Mrs. Castle had been found slain, livery
angle of the ease had been covered, so
Chief Sullivan called a halt in order that
he and his men might obtain badly needed
rest.

There was a conference the following
afternoon at the downtown Detective Bu-
reau. Present with a number of officers
working on the case was Dr. David Roth-
man, brilliant psychiatrist attached to the
Chicago Municipal Court. Dr. Rothman
had just finished a long interview with
little Jimmy Thompson. The boy was
in a downtown hotel under care of two
police -matrons.

Chief Sullivan shot an eager question at

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On the Trail of
Chicago’s Murder
Monster

(Continued from page 11)

room and returned with one valuable find
—in impression from the window-sill, of
the thumb and four fingers from a right
hand. From the size of the hand, it could
belong only to a man. The only other
prints found were those of Mrs. Castle,
Jimmy and the maid who cleaned the
room each day.

Sergeant James Conlan of the Bureau
of Identification made his report on the
prints to Chief Sullivan.

“Those prints were left on the sill after
the screen had been removed from. the
window,” the Sergeant said. “The thumb
print was on a part of the sill that would
have been covered by the bottom of the
sereen if the scereen had been in. place.
That seems to mean that the prints are
those of the killer; that he left them while
entering or leaving the room by the win-
dow.” ‘

The Sergeant’s reasoning was sound, but
the prints were found to be of no imme-

‘diate value. They did not compare with

the impressions of the fingers of criminals
on file at the Bureau of Identification.

Chief Sullivan was highly intrigued by
the cryptic message on the mirror, “Black
Legon—Game.” What could it mean?
Had it been serawled by the killer, or had
Mrs. Castle herself written the words, per-
haps in a moment of bizarre humor?

The seandal of the Black Legion, hooded
brotherhood of violence, was. still fresh in
the minds of police. Many arrests had
been made in Detroit in connection with
the organization’s reign of terror, and there
were reports that the black-robed clan had
sprung up in other cities over the nation,

W As it possible that a branch of the
Black Legion existed in Chicago; that
its members had wreaked sudden and hor-
rible vengeance on Mrs, Castle?

Chief Sullivan shook his head in dis-
belief of any such theory.

“This is no Black Legion case,” he de-
clared. “The Legion always has attacked
a victim in a group, while this points to
a one-man job. I believe the mirror mes-
sage was left there by the killer for the
sole purpose of throwing us off the trail.

“Hor that matter, a member of the
Black Legion certainly would know how
to spell the name of the outfit. The word
‘Legion’ is misspelled on the mirror.”

Another twist was given to the Chief's
reasoning regarding the mirror message
when H. A. Rounds, veteran handwrit-
ing expert, examined the writing. He de-
clared the words had becn written by a
person with a better-than-average educa-
tion.

“T would say that the writer deliber-
ately misspelled the word ‘Legion’,”
Rounds said. “A person with the educa-
tion indicated in the handwriting certainly
would know the correct spelling. He prob-
ably intended to mislead the police by
making the mistake.”

In casting about for a motive for the
slaying, the detective head did not over-
look the possibility of robbery.

Only a few pieces of costume jewelry
and less than twenty-five cents in change
could be found in Mrs. Castle’s room, but
acquaintances of the dead girl declared
there was nothing strange about that.

Florence’s income was small—less than
$20 a week—and she spent it to the last
penny. She was consistently out of funds,

“He has an answer for everything,” Wel-
ty and Ford told Chief Nussbaum.

“We won’t get too rough with him,”
said Nussbaum. “After all, we haven't got
a thing on him. We don’t want any come-
back on this if he is innocent.”

So Jerry Thompson—his right name, he
said, was Gerald T. Thompson, but he
always had been called Jerry—was handled
with kid gloves in the questioning which
ensued. He was asked about himself. He
talked freely. He did not smoke. He
drank nothing except a glass of beer occa-
sionally. His diversions? Picture shows
now and then. Ball games.

“And I play handball at the Y.M.C.A.
quite often,” he added.

“Give an account for yourself on Sun-
day night,” he was ordered.

That, Thompson said, would’ be easy.
He had gone to see his sweetheart, Lola
Hughes. They had attended the 9 o’clock
show at a picture house. They had re-
turned to her home around {1:30. He
had left_her a little while later, say mid-
night. Then he had gone straight home.
He had gone to the kitchen on a hunt
for a bite to eat. His grandmother had
awakened and called to him. He had
asked her if he might get some cookies
she made that day. She told him to help
himself. He recalled that the clock chimed
once. His grandmother asked him what
time it was. He told her. Half past

twelve. After eating, he had gone to bed.

The questioning veered around to girls
and sex. The subject appeared to excite
Thompson. Where he had been facetious,
a bit flippant, smiling in a superior sort
of manner as if all this were a very good
joke, now he grew excited. You could
tell it from the way his eyes lighted up,
from a speeding up in his speech, from the
fact that his voice grew louder until once
Chief Nussbaum reminded him. sharpl
that it was a small room, they were all
sitting together and no one was deaf,

In an unwary moment Thompson ad-
mitted that he had some “hot” picture
og eee at home, some sex novelties that

i had obtained from a mail order firm
and peddled to any of the boys he knew
who wanted them.

Apparently he did not see anything sig-
nificant in the admission and no one told
him. He seemed to be laboring under the
impression that everyone present shared
his views on sex, just “being boys to-
gether,” as he expressed it.

The time dragged on. Thompson dis-
played no impatience, no desire to have
done with the questioning and get on
home to bed. Seemingly he was content
to go on talking until his questioners
were satisfied.

Abruptly the questioning turned upon
criminal assaults upon women. A wary
look crept into Thompson’s eyes. For the

first time a hint of worry came into his
manner. His replies became evasive. His
willingness to stay and talk disappeared.
He began to protest that he had “gone
along” with the detectives as far as he
Proposed to go, since it was becoming
evident that they actually did suspect him
of something. They couldn’t fool him.
They were trying to pin the Hallmark
murder on him.

“I never knew the girl,” he said. “Her
father worked on the same watch with
me. His bench was néar mine. I didn’t
know, however, where the Hallmarks
lived until | read it in the paper after the
murder. Sure they were neighbors, Lived
just three blocks away, but there are lots
of people who lived that close to me whom
I never knew.”

He was asked if he knew Miss R. He
shook his head. The name was unfamiliar
to him, he said, but he did not say it con-
vincingly. Mention was made of the blind
date on which she said she had met a
Jerry Thompson. Was he or was he not
the man?

“TI guess I was,” Lg ig admitted,
“but | didn’t remember the girl’s name.
She didn’t appeal to me and particularly
not after she accused me of being some
fellow who had done something to her.
I never asked to see her again, didn’t even
inquire her address; that’s how little she
meant to me.”

“Well, we are going to send for Miss R
and all of us will talk it over together,”
said Chief Nussbaum. “Meanwhile, you are
going to be locked up, Thompson.”

“Okay by me.” Thompson spoke jaun-
tily, got up from his chair and followed a
detective out of the room.

“What do you think, Chief?” asked
Welty.

Nussbaum frowned. “I think that a ter-
rible mistake has been made. Anthony
Smith did not attack Miss R. Thompson
did. Miss R was right in the first place
when she felt sure Thompson was the Lee
Bridges who assaulted her. Boys, this
fellow isn’t what you’d take him to be
from his looks. | think he’s the chap who
has attacked a number of girls and wo-
men—and | wouldn’t be very much sur-
prised if we found out that he killed Mil-
dred Hallmark! Why do I think so?
Didn’t you. notice how he got excited
when he talked about sex?”

. How near is Chief Nussbaum to the
truth? Are the police getting a “break”
at last? Was Gerald Thompson the brutal
rapist who for months had terrorized
Feoria women and girls? Was Mildred
Hallmark his latest victim? Has he added
murder to other crimes? This story at-
tains a sensational point in the nexi, the
December issue of OrrFiciaL DETECTIVE
Stories, on sale November 1.

The Bizarre Case of Wilfred J. Roch (Continued from Page 13)

place was vacant.

Inquiry among the neighbors proved
fruitless. The couple who had occupied
the North Manassas apartment had ept
to themselves. I looked in at the Union
Avenue grill where Ruby Williams had
been employed, and found her there. She
told me that her husband was in Shreve-
port, Louisiana, and said they had sepa-
rated after he partially recovered from
the gunshot wound.

“He sold and gave away everything we
had in the house,” Ruby informed me.

“Well, his first wife is here—from whom
he was never divorced. And the man who
married you under the name of Robert J.
A eas is really Wilfred J. Roch,” I told
er.

Contrary to the traditional conduct of
persons involved in this sort of domestic
triangle, Ruby took the announcement
calmly and expressed a friendly interest
in the real Mrs. Roch. “I would like to
meet her, and I'll help in every way I can
to bring the man to justice who has
brought only trouble into her life and
mine,” she said.

It was a dramatic moment when the
two women met in my office at Central
Police Headquarters. The age-old clash
of woman against woman for the love of
a man was transformed into a united effort
to apprehend the scoundrel who deceived
first one and then the other. The two
soon became partners in the determined
effort to punish the Lothario who had
wronged them. Instead of jealous enemies,
Irene and Ruby became sympathetic
friends. d

Ruby knew enough of the movements of
the philanderer to start us on the trail.
She said her psuedo husband had boasted
of a valiant record in the United States
Marine Corps and often had bragged of
his_marksmanship.

“That must have been a lie, too,” she
commented, “just as his whole life with
me was a lie, for if he really did shoot
himself he was a poor shot not to be able
to put the bullet where it would do the
most good!”

With the Shreveport lead that. Ruby
gave me, | traced Roch, alias Williams,
over a devious route and finally located
him in Houston, Texas. This was accom-
plished through a series of telegrams and
lonp-clistance phone calls—in a _remark-

‘ably short time.

At my request, Houston officers appre-
hended Williams at the Fox Hotel in the
Texas city, and locked him up.

“Well, now that he is in custody,” I told
Mrs. Irene Roch, “arrangements must be
made to extradite him. Some time and
money will be required for that pro-
cedure.”

Here a proposal was made and eventual-
ly carried out that forms another unique
angle in this bizarre case. Mrs. Roch
suggested a strategic move which seemed
almost ridiculous at first.

“Let me talk to him over long-distance
phone, and I’m sure that I can persuade
him to return to Memphis of his own
volition! That will save the time and the
money. Oh, I’m sure I can do it,” she
pleaded.

“But surely the man wouldn’t be fool
enough to come back, now that he is al-
ready under arrest for deserting his
family,” I countered.

“Oh, yes, I believe he will,” she an-
swered. “I’m going to try to fan the one
remaining spark of manhood that he has
left. Remember how he raved about his
family while in delirium a few weeks ago?
Well, that tells me that he still has a long-
ing, deep in his soul, to see his own flesh
and blood again. {’ll get him back with-
out a guard,” she said confidently.

Skeptical of results, but faced with the
alternative of complete failure, | finally
acceded to Mrs. Roch’s request and got
Houston police authorities to have their

prisoner talk over the long-distance wire.

“Hello, Wilfred, this is. Irene——” The
conversation was started in friendly tone.
“I know you're surprised to hear my
voice .., .” ‘“

For almost three minutes I listened
tensely to the eloquent pty» that was
strategically directed to the honor of a
man whose sense of fairness was subject to
grave doubt. I wonder now how Mrs.
Roch mustered the courage to appeal so
gently to the one who so brutally had
crushed her hopes. But appeal she did,
with an eloquence that only a listener
could discern—the simple words she em-
ployed would lose their allure in cold
print. It was more in the way she said it
than in what she really said that brought
the hasty interview to a successful ter-
mination—successful from our standpoint,
though decidedly disastrous to the hopes
which her words had builded within the
breast of the man at the other end of the

New York’s Love Slave
Her, Passion Crimes and Terrible
Retribution. «
By West F. Peterson

The March of Crime
December, Five to One Hundred
Years Ago.
By David Frederick McCord

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE
STORIES. |

Issue of December, 1935
ON SALE NOVEMBER 1

It’s Packed with Smashing True Detective Stories—All

True—All from Official Sources. Featured in It
You Will Find:

The Foul Crimes of the Monster Sadist
He Wiped Out a Family and Kept Human Flesh for a Pocket-Piece.
By Sheriff E. R. McLean, Bolivar County, Cleveland, Mississippi, and Fred G, Millette

It’s All in OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES for December
—and Plenty More Equally Stirring, All True. Out Nov. 1.
DON’T MISS YOUR COPY!

To Municipal and Private Detectives, Police Officials, Newspapermen and Private Citizens:
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES is in the market for true stories of detective work done in
ferreting out crime and bringing malefactors to book. Address all material for publication to
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIDS, 731 Plymouth Court, Chicago, Mlinois,

Who Killed Grandpa Nusbaum?
Chicago’s Frightful Orgy of Greed.

By Captain Patrick Collins and Ray
Brennan

Sterilization—Albert H. Fish, Fiend
Extraordinary
Crime’s Eloquent Plea for Physical

Correction of Misfits.
By Ex-Operative 48

line.

Wilfred Roch promised to return to the

woman who had owned his first love.
And he made his promise good!
_ We may skip the details of their meet-
ing. I’m a police officer, and while I have
tried to avoid the hardening process that
comes with long experience in upholding
and enforcing the law, I’ll have to admit
that I lack the sensibilities necessary to
portray in mere words the tender scene
which ensued when Wilfred J. Roch—the
legally dead ‘hobo—arrived ‘in Memphis
and walked into the waiting arms of the
woman he had left with their brood of
little children seven years béfore. A sen-
timentalist could write several chapters of
the intimate words that were spoken, and
the look that each held in their eyes for
the other, but I—from the standpoint of
an investigating officer—was_ impressed
only by the fact that Wilfred J. Roch had
at last been found, and that he was being
decoyed back to his native state for the
prosecution which he richly deserved.

Irene Roch acted her role to perfection.
Ruby Williams played the “off stage” part
to which circumstances in this drama nat-
urally assigned her in the act that pre-
ceded curtains. The road ahead was made
to look perfectly smooth to the wander-
ing, philandering Wilfred—thanks to the
vanity of a man and the wiles of a
woman!

Arriving at Holyoke, the plucky little
woman promptly handed her erring spouse
over to waiting officers of the law, and
the denouement was complete. But that
didn’t write finis to the drama of their
lives. -The aftermath was yet to be writ-
ten _in startling terms.

The heart of Ruby Williams Roch had
sustained a cruel thrust that would cause
most women to seek vengeance, but she re-
fused to prosecute the man who had
wronged her. Instead, when he was off to
face the penalty which Irene secretly had
promised, Ruby promptly obtained a de-
cree in Chancery Court and had her mar-
riage annulled on the grounds that Roch
had neglected to divorce Wife No. 1.

When placed on trial in District Court
before Associate Judge Merrill L. Welch-
er on_a charge of wife desertion, on Febru-
ary 26, 1931, Roch refused to take the
stand. His attorneys intimated that Mrs.
Roch had made the trip to Memphis for
the purpose of effecting a reconciliation.
But she testified that her mission had been
that of a detective, and now that she had
landed the culprit in Holyoke it was no
love game. Roch was sentenced to one
year in the Massachusetts house of cor-

- rection.

Now that the tangled identity had been
straightened out to the point that it was
definitely known that the hobo who had

died in Stetson Hospital was not Wilfred.

i: Roch of Holyoke. Francis X. Roch, an
onest man whose wayward son_ had
brought humiliations upon his gray head,

,the Detective: read complete amazement.

eee

2 sss Ss ssl NN

“Not very well," was the prompt reply,
But the eyes opened suddenly wide. The

like for the Garelas have murdered man,
woman, youth and two small girls, he

squint was gone. .In Boltares’: expression asked himself. .1t was .against .all the

“You thought I was going to ask about

" your. wine selling business, didn’t you,

Boltares?”

“I knew you was a detective, yes,” as-
sented the man, “but——”

“And when [| surprised you with the
Garcia question you lied promptly,” ac-
cused the Captain.

“Well, yes.” The eyes were narrowed
again. “I thought it was the wine you
were here about. | did know Garcia and
his wife. They gave me lots of trouble.”

Captain William Bright allowed himself
a tiny sigh of relief. He walked over to
the parked truck and sat on the running-
board. Boltares leaned against the front
fender. Whenever a homcide suspect be-
gins to talk about the trouble the dead
person has given him, it is time to sit
down and listen. The troubled one will
parade his grievances by the hour and as
he talks the shrewd investigator may be
able to sort clew phrases from the mass of
complaint.

But rarely is the complaining one a fair
subject for actual suspicion, unless a defi-
nite persecution complex exists. Captain
Bright was alert for the persecution com-
plex, but he listened to every word from
Boltares for a clew to someone who may
have had real grievances against the fam-
ily. At last he prompted: ;

“Did you know anyone else who didn’t
like Garcia and his wife or the grown
boy—even the two little girls?”

“I only know my own business,’ in-
sisted Boltares. “I wanted to marry Lola
Guichapa. I was boarding with Garcia.
I knew Helena Garcia when she was Hel-
ena Alvarez. But I have money. When
I wanted to marry Lola they tried to tell
me she was after my money. Then after-
wards they made trouble for me because
of my wine business.”

The back door of the es cottage
had opened and shut. The Murder Man
glanced that way. He saw a dark-haired,
black-eyed woman with heavy drooping
lips. But the thing that impressed him
most was the sudden fear which flashed
from the woman’s eyes when she saw him.

“That is Lola Guichapa,” explained
Boltares possessively. “I married her.”

The Captain lowered his eyes. to the
running-board and abstractedly scratched
at the metal with his finger-nail. Could
this man who spoke so freely of his dis-

“promptings of his profession to believe so.
ess skilled detectives would have leaped
‘ata conclusion. Stupid man-grabbers

‘would have thrown Armando Boltares in-

to jail on general principles.

But the Los Angeles Sheriff's Depart-
ment under Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz ar-
rests when it has clews. The Homicide
Detail under Captain William Bright in-
sists on clews plus evidence. In this case
he had neither. The word of the school-
teacher could possibly be obtained to show
that Boltares was the man who called for
Carmelita. But that was weeks ago. He
knew the family. His alibi for the inci-
dent could be swift and perfect without
a member of the Garcia group alive to
give him the lie.

It was preposterous—and yet the officer
felt that the man with the squinting eyes
knew something about the mass murders
on the mesa in the dreary foothills canyon.
Still staring in silent thought, the Detec-
tive found his eyes rivetting on a tiny
stain at the edge of one of the raised
diamond-shaped designs on the running-
board. Again he scratched with his fin+
er-nails, but this time not abstractedly.

e ran a nail along the edge of the run-
ning-board where the metal was pressed
upwards leaving a deep furrow at the
rim. :

“Ever carry meat in your truck?” he
asked Boltares quickly.

“Never,” replied the gardener.
ver have an accident?” insisted the
Captain. “Had one lately?”

“No, sir,” firmly from the man. But
the narrow eyes moved quickly to the run-
ning-board, “That is—I hit a dog one
day,” Boltares amended quickly.

“

For the first time in ae of homicide
investigation Captain Bright arrested a
man on frail evidence and a guess. Lola
Guichapa left the house when the two
men were walking towards the officer’s
car. ‘
“I must ask you to come, too,” the
Captain told her firmly.

In sullen silence the woman entered the
machine, and the drive towards Los An-
geles began. :

Later that evening Captain Bright’s
‘guess was substantiated in the laboratory
at the Sheriff’s department. The two
suspects were left under guard in the
office of the Homicide Chief. Bright

The Riddle of the Nude in the

cheeks that the informants fondly hoped
might be the clew that would lead police
to the Hallmark slayer and the tipster to
the $2,000 that had been subscribed as a
reward,

The majority of them were worthless
and everybody knew it. Nevertheless
Nussbaum was not the man to pass up
any chance to solve the murder and he
had all of these tips investigated. As was
expected, all the scratches, bruises and
black eyes were explained easily enough.

Little attention, then, was paid when an
employe of the same caterpillar tractor
works which employed old John Hallmark
reported that one of the drill press opera-
tors had what seemed to be wound marks
on his chin and one wrist. The wounds,
said the tipster, had been treated with
iodine or mercurochrome.

“What does he say about them?” the
headquarters clerk who received the tip
over the telephone asked.

“Why, nothing,” replied the tipster. “I
don’t know if anybody has asked him
about them.”

“Does he act excited? Worried? Upset?
Has he missed any work since the Hall-
mark murder?”

The tipster admitted that the man had
not. He had been on the job every night.
He had gone on about his work in his
usual, quiet, efficient manner. He had not
shown excitement or worry. He, like other
employes, had expressed indignation over
the murder and had contributed toward
flowers for Mildred Hallmark’s funeral.

That tip, along with hundreds of others,
found its way to Chief Nussbaum’s desk.
He sat up and took notice when he read
it. The name of the man with the wounds
was Jerry .Thompson!

It was odd, the chief thought, how that
name kept popping up in the investiga-

tion. Thompson was the name of the man
on Maywood Avenue who had so meticu-
lously washed his car on the morning after
the murder, whose amily had moved
away right afterwards. Thompson was
the name of the man with whom Miss R
had blind dated and whom she had mis-
taken for the “Lee Bridges” who had as-
saulted her. Now here was a Thompson
who had wounds on his face and wrist,
who for some reason was suspected by a
fellow employe of knowing something
about the Hallmark murder.

Nussbaum ordered the detectives who
had been sent to trace the Maywood Ave-
ine Thompson to report to him immedi-
ately.

They had found his new address—211
West Monetta Avenue, Peoria Heights.
He lived with his aged grandparents, Mr.
and Mrs. George Thompson, and a
brother, Victor. Their new neighbors
knew nothing about the family, but the
old ones on Maywood Avenue had spoken
highly of them. The brothers’ real name
was Bowers, but they had been adopted
by their grandparents when their father
had deserted his family some twenty years
before.

What interested Chief Nussbaum most,
however, was that the elder of the broth-
ers was named Jerry. Jerry Thompson!
The name of the man Miss R had mis-
taken for “Lee Bridges’! The name of
the man with the wounds!

“This might be something,” said Nuss-
baum. He ordered Detectives Welty and
Ford to go to the caterpillar tractor plant
and bring Jerry Thompson in for ques-
tioning. As a matter of courtesy, since
the plant was in East Peoria, they asked
two East’ Peoria policemen to accompany
them. At the plant they stated their mis-
sion to Sergeant Frank Riley of the com-

hurried to the laboratory and stood beside
a bespectacled young man who was staring
tponeh an illuminated microscope.

_ “I'd like you to glance at some scrap-
ings from under my _finger-nails,” the
Homicide Chief said.

The preoccupied young man looked up
quickly, but the startled expression on
his face faded. He grinned pleasantly.
“Not suspecting yourself of murder are
you, Captain?”

Swiftly and expertly he scraped the
finger-nails, which the Murder Man held
above a piece of glossy white paper on
the laboratory bench. The chemist bustled
around with two vials, a drop of fluid in
one and then the other. He immersed
the finger-nail scrapings in the fluid, shook
~ vial around and ,held it to,a bright
ight. ,

“Mmmm,” murmured the chemist;
“blood, anyhow.” He moved more quick-
ly about his bench. More fluid was placed
in the vial, the solution was dripped to a
scrap of blotting paper. Finally the chem-
ist removed the slide from the illuminated
microscope and replaced it with a piece
of glass on which had been smeared a
dab of solution from the vial.

A few minutes later he peered through
his shell-rimmed glasses at the» murder

man,

“Human blood,” he said quietly. “I’ll
make an analysis report. Where did it
come from?”

The Homicide Detail Chief sketched
swiftly the detils of the mesa murders.
“Suspects, Armando Boltares and Lola
Guichapa. Human blood from the right-
hand running-board of Boltares’ deliver
truck. The machine’ll be in here nade
of two hours—I’m sending out for it. You
can make photographs and get your other
blood samples then.”

Armando Boltares sat rigid in his chair
in Captain Bright’s office. It was two
days since the chemist had analyzed the
scrapings from the detective’s finger-nails.
In those days a school-teacher from San
Fernando had looked at Boltares and rec-

ognized him as the man who called for’

Carmelita Alvarez but was refused per-
mission to take the girl away.

“We are charging you with first-degree
murder five times.” The Captain’s voice
was stern, his brown eyes hard and un-
wavering as he looked at the suspect.
“We have evidence enough to convict.
Talk if you want to—keep quiet if it
pleases you. There is a mass of evidence
we can accumulate, and we're after it.”

Boltares sat in. strained: silence for two
full minutes. His narrowed eyes shifted

uneasily about the office. A stenographer -

sat behind the Captain, ony poised over
a \ nba te And then Boltares began to
talk.

“I hated them.” His voice was a hissing
whisper. “I hated them all. They were
after me, they wanted my money. For
the love of Lola Guichapa I killed them.”

There followed a confession of the most

cold-blooded murder Captain Bright ever |

had encountered.

“T told them we'd go on a picnic in the
canyon,” he recounted. “I would haul the
food in my truck. I tried to get them to
Azusa where | had the tabi dug, but
Carlos had to get back: they wouldn’t go
that far. So I took them to the mesa.
I led Helena away and hit her with the
shovel I had brought. Then Carlos came
uf: on the mesa with a bundle from the
car. I hit him with _the shovel. I hit
the little girl next. The bigger girl ran
away.and started to throw stones at me.
Everything went red. I ran and caught
her and I hit her, too—I caved in their
skulls. [ cut their throats with my razor.”

At last the hissing voice was still. The
ee made a final scratch on his

ad.
A “Luciana Garcia—how did you _ kill
him?” demanded the Captain.

“He came back and was looking for
his family,” went on Boltares. “I told him
I knew where they were. I'd take him to
them. Him I drove in my own truck to
the first graves | dug near Azusa- [| hit
him with my gun, then shot him in the
head as he was getting out of the truck.
Then I dragged tie to one of the graves
I had dug, and covered him up. | filled
in the other graves——”

“And when you shot him, blood splashed
on the running-board—just a drop or
two—and you did not notice it then or
in the weeks that followed,” the Captain
told him. ;

Lola Guichapa was freed of all complic-
ity in the crime. But Boltares went on
trial February 24, 1930, and immediately
pleaded guilty to the five murders. He
was sentenced to death. Two months
later his sentence. was commuted to life
imprisonment when he decided at last to
rely upon an insanity plea to save his
own life.

Visiting him regularly at the San Quen-
tin penitentiary is tue woman with the
heavy drooping lips, the sullen eyes.

Cemete ry (Continued from Page 17)

pany’s police.

“Wait here in the office for me. I'll
bring him,” said Riley.

It was 12:30 o’clock in the morning.
The shift on which Thompson worked
was just off duty. Thompson was washing
up when Riley appeared and told him
some men were waiting to see him.

“What do they want?” asked Thomp-
son.

Sergeant Riley professed not to know.

“Are they copsP”

“What makes you think that?” Riley
asked.

“Who else would be wanting to see a
man at his work at this hour of the morn-
ing?” countered Thompson. “Well, let’s
go.

Welty and Ford eyed Thompson keenly
when Riley appeared with him in tow.
Then they exchanged significant glances.
Afterwards they said that it had struck
both of them at the same moment that
Thompson answered the description of
the dangerous rapist who all of us were
certain was at large in Peoria—tall, slender
with dark curly hair. And when he spoke,
his voice was soft.

“Well, I’m Thompson. You wanted to
see me?”

“The chief_ wants to have a little talk
with you,” Ford told him.

“Pair enough.” said Thompson. Then,
as if it were an afterthought: “If I hadn’t
tried to pick that girl up, I wouldn’t be
in this jam.”

What girl? Thompson murmured some-
thing about a girl who had been standing
on a street corner and who, he thought,
had tried to give him “the eye”. When,
however, he had stopped his car and tried

to talk to her she had berated him and.

threatened to call a policeman.- _
“What makes you think there is any

connection with the fact that the chief
wants to talk to you?”

Thompson shrugged. “Oh, you coppers
are pinc ing everybody who ever tried to
make a girl,” he retorted flippantly.

“It wasn’t the Hallmark girl you tried
to make, was it?”

“My God, no. You don’t think | killed
her, do you? Why, her old man works
right near me at the plant. What will
people think if this gets out?”

Thompson’s car, it developed, ‘was
parked outside the plant. With Welty be-
side him, he was permitted to drive it to
headquarters. Mention was made of its
new seat covers. The upholstery, Thomp-
son said, was spotted from something or
other. He had tried to clean it but it was
worse than ever, so he had decided to
get covers,

“We had a report that you did that
Monday morning after the murder,” he
was told. “A neighbor saw you washing
the car and cleaning the upholstery—.”

“Those nosey neighbors on Maywood
Avenue was one reason why we moved
from theze,’ Thompson said. “Sure |
cleaned up the car. I had been for a drive
with my girl on Sunday and it was all
dusty. I like a car clean. Anything wrong
in that?”

He was asked about the wound on his
chin and that on his wrist.

“So that’s partly why you pinched me?”
There was biting scorn in his tones. “You
think perhaps the Hallmark girl did that
to mer Well, I can explain them.”

A sudden gust of wind, he said, had
blown the door of his car shut. An edge
of the door had scraped his chin and his
wrist had been caught at the same time
The skin was broken in both places. He
had applied mercurochrome to prevent in-
fection.

«
in her tragic murder. Was this itP Tt seemed likely, A Mobile of ao stranger, particuhedy late at night. No street to chat with a woman | knew for some tittle time,
Heights car would take the girl nearer her home than the matter how pressing her desire to get home because she Later, when | was coming back home | could see that
\noxville Avenue line. It was reasonable to believe that had been unable to reach her family by telephone to’ tell the YOUNK MAN Was PULLIN NeW seat covers On the cat,
she had changed her mind and left the Knoxville car them why she was out kite, no matter how she might
| at Pennovivanie Avenue, fear a walk of even two or three blocks at that hour, it HE informant didn’t know the young man. She de-
4 You may be sure that Manias was questioned for simply wasn’t in the cards that she would voluntarily scribed the house, however, gave its approximate loca-
every phase of that incident which he could dredge out crawl into the car of someone she did not know for the tion, three blocks south of the Hallmark. home in the
of his memory. These were not numerous. He had sake of riding home quickly and comfortably. It wasn’t 800 block on Maywood Avenue. The detective went
caught a glimpse of white clothing about the woman, the sort of thing Mildred Hallmark would do. there, No. 805. The house was empty. Neighbors, how-
perhaps the bottom of a skirt Peeping out from under a It seemed logical to believe that the man. in the car ever, said that the elderly couple and two young men
coat. He had been too far away to tell if she was young which John Manias had seen was someone the girl who had lived there had moved away several days -be-
or old; indeed, had paid no attention, The man in the knew, if that girl had been Mildred, Our efforts, there- fore. Gone somewhere to the north, out in Peoria
car? Manias didn’t know whether he had Heights. The detective jotted down the
been there long or had just driven up. name, Thompson, in his note book and
He didn’t know if the woman had been went on about his assignment. This

with the man when the car drove up or : thing of checking up every man. who
Hosen i she had just been a pickup at It Seemed That Every Man Who Owned a ad washed, a car on Monday morning
that spot. > ig would require an army.

Mr. Manias wanted so much to be ° e ; Meanwhile, down at headquarters
helpful when he saw that we attached Car In Peoria Cleaned It That Fatal Monday young Anthony Smith was stil] being
more oe pee soit ter to his ear on still Seine ie esi
story, but he just couldn’t tell us any ° . upon Miss R. or any other girl and was
more, except— ; —Yet Why Should the Police Arrest Only getting exceedingly angry every time the

name of Mildred Hallmark ‘was men-

MYO. YOU know, there was something. oo tioned.

D familiar about that man,” he said, ; One:Among Them? : “Will you submit yourself to exami-
“Something in the way he walked those nation under the lie detector?” he. was
few steps to the woman’s side, the way : asked.

he took her by the arm. I ‘can't just ex- ; ; ; ; ‘ ; __,What’s that?” he asked. The ma-
press it, but there was something cocky-about him even. fore, were quickly concentrated upon checking up’ on chine was explained to him. Apparatus for the taking
at that distance which reminded me of someone” men’ acquaintances of the girl who possessed cars and of blood pressure was hooked up with a chart and a

Try as he did, however, he ‘could not identify the —particularly‘upon such men who lived out in the direc- moving pen. Questions were ashed veux If you answered
someone of whom he had been reminded. That person _ tion of the Hallmark home. Anyone who knew the city truthfully, the pen registered the fact that your blood
remained a nebulous cocky somebody that he had known. as the police did could make a shrewd Suess that the pressure remained Steady. If you lied, the pen moved
some time back. i ley meeting between Mildred and the man in the car had upon the chart in violent up and down zigzags which

Certain as we felt that Manias. had witnessed the .,been Pure chance. The vicinity of Knoxville and Penn- told the — that the truth was not in you. Fred
first step of Mildred Hallmark’s journey- toward ‘her sylvania Avenues is not the type of neighborhood in -Imbau of t € state police, sent to Peoria by Governor
rendezvous with death, because it dovetailed ‘so nicely which a man “on the. prowl for a pickup” would choose Henry Horner, had brought a lie detector machine with
with our theory. of what had happened, it was decided as his hunting grounds. A lone girl in that district, late him. ‘Science declares that it works, but ‘the law has not

to appeal again to the public to help us out. i at night might be calculated to repulse any advances, to yet accepted its findings as legal evidence. Hence its
The newspapers anda Peoria radio ‘station, WMBD, - make an outcry if an attempt were made to force her value lies only in that it points the way that: question-

gave voice to that appeal. What we wanted to know into'a car. Mildred Hallmark had been that kind of a ing should follow.

was whether at the corner of Knoxville and Pennsylvania girl and the girl Manias had seen apparently had gotten “Try it on me,” said Smith. “Try anything that will

Avenues, shortly after 11 o’¢lock on Sunday night, June into the car voluntarily. convince you that | am telling the truth, that | did not

16, such an incident as John Manias had described had Oe : ge attack Miss R. and know nothing about the Hallmark

taken place between a man.and-a woman ‘who would id WAS in casting about quietly around the vicinity murder,” ; :

come ‘forward and identify themselves, thus proving of the Hallmark home that a talkative woman. hap- Eset

that the woman had not been Mildred Hallmark. It was pened to mention to an inquiring detective that on O THE lie detector was tried on him. He was plied

pledged that ‘the identity’ of the couple would be kept Monday, the day after the murder, she had seen a young with innocuous questions first to chart his normal

secret if that was asked. man devoting more than the usual “lick and promise” —_ blood pressure. Then the questioners got down to busi-

: : 3 : to his sedan. He had: washed, it most thoroughly and ness and began bombarding him with questions about
N° ONE replied to the appeal. We could only con- paid considerably more attention to the inside than to Miss R and Mildred Hallmark. His blood pressure re-

clude that the woman had indeed been Mildred; the’ . the outside-and to the rear seat than to the front, mained normal. Imbau departed with his lie detector.
matvher slayer, ° NaN , : ee Inwardly, the detective said afterward, he sighed. It hacdn’t accomplished a thing so far as showing that
hat appeal did one thing, however: It brought to How. very, very many young men had washed their Smith had lied.
us Charles and Francis Tetmeyer, brothers, of 712 East cars on that Monday, as the tips to headquarters had _In the face of Miss R’s continued insistence. that
McClure Avenue, who .were certain they had seen Mil- - -tevealed. Outwardly, the office displayed an interest he Smith was the man who: had attacked her, that was
dred on the Knoxville car, They were more certain of was far from feeling and asked the woman more ques- Strange. No one questioned her sincerity or doubted
t after they had seen her clothing at headquarters. The tions. : that she actually believed Smith uilty, but there was
girl, they said, sat in the first or second seat on the “He cleaned the upholstery of the back seat with no escaping the conclusion that she was _ mistaken.
right hand side of the car—just where McGinnis had some kind of stuff out of a bottle,” she said. Chief Nussbaum called in the aces of his staff, De-
‘old us he saw her sit down. The Tetmeyers had not The detective pricked up his ears and prodded her tectives Charles Welty and Glen Ford, and told them
roticed where she got off—they had dozed for awhile— —_ with another ‘question. ; ; : to fo and see Miss R and question her again. The most
out she no longer. was on the car when they alighted at “That was very early in the morning,” she said, “ willing witness sometimes holds back vital information
heir home street, a mile or so past Pennsylvania Ave- ' was on my way to the grocery store and stopped on the without being aware of it and Miss R might remember
‘ue. To all practical purposes, that clinched it in our something that would have an important bearing on
ninds that Mildred had been the woman John Manias From left, Assistant State’s Attorney Eugene the status of young Smith,
lad seen getting into a car opposite his home. Kavanaugh, Sergeant Bert Molohon of the Welty and Ford asked her to tell them her story :
he big question was-—who had been the man? State Highway Maintenance Police, Superin- again. j
Our study of the life and habits of the slain girl tendent of Police Fred Nussbaum and Sheriff Miss R readily complied. It did not vary in even
lade it seem unlikely’ she would have entered the auto- Marcus Olson—at work on the Hallmark case the slightest cstail.

Thompson’s grandmother, Mrs. George 's. Thompson, who
ndopled Gerald and his brother, Under her care the youtlhy
were raised and instilled with their ideas of right and wrong

Into this house on West Monetta Avenue,
and his grandparents on the very day—an

“And you are certain that Smith is
the man?” she was asked,

She said that she was.

“You have never seen any other man
who, you thought was the Lee Bridges
who attacked you?” .

“It’s funny that you would ask that,”

. Was the reply, “for [ did see a man that

I mistook for Bridges. It was several
weeks after the attack upon me. A couple
of girl friends telephoned me that there
was a party on. There was a third man
who had no girl to: accompany him and
they asked me if I would blind date with
him. They assured me that he was nice
and a gentleman and | agreed to go.
When they appeared at my house in a
car he was sitting in the back seat. I took
one look at him and——

“Tl not go out with that man,’ |
told my friends. ‘I was with him once
and that is enough for me.’

“‘What do you mean?” they asked.

“I'd like to know what you mean
myself,’ the man said, =: ‘

a | TOLD them then that the man had

not treated me right. I didn’t give
them any details, of course, but | think
they guessed that something terrible had
happened. The man denied he ever had
been with me before.

“‘Isn’t your name Lee Bridges?’ |
asked. He said it wasn’t and my girl
friends and their escorts assured me that
I had been deceived by a resemblance.

“This is Jerry Thompson,’ they said.
‘All of us have known him for a long
time. He’s all right,’

“I apologized then for. thinking he
was Lee Bridges and agreed to go with
them. I was sorry afterwards that I had
accused him of being Bridges ,for he
treated me splendidly. He was quiet and
didn’t talk much, just as | had been told
would be the case, and he didn’t try to
pews me or atlempl (oO Kiss me or any
thing.” .

Peoria Heights, Thompson moved with his brother
d within a few hours—of the finding of the body

Chief Nussbaum received the report of Welty and
Ford with interest, The little addition to Miss kt’s
story didn't mean a thing apparently, but he wondered
if, having mistaken one man for her assailant, the girl
might not’ be mistaken now in believing that Smith
was the man. :

- Then he suddenly remembered that report which
never had been followed up very far—of the man named
Thompson who had been seen washing his car on the
morning after-the murder and whose family had moved
away from Maywood Avenue within two days. Was
that Thompson by: any: chance. the Jerry Thompson
with whom Miss had blind dated? Two detectives
were ordered to trace the Maywood Avenue Thompson
to his. new. address,

MEANWHILE, science was being called into play

again. This time it took another tack from that
of the lie detector. At Nussbaum’s request the coroner’s
physician had carefully taken scrapings from under Mil-
dred Hallmark’s fingernails and they had been sent to
the crime detection aboratory of Northwestern Univer-
sity at Chicago. Quite often it has happened that an
individual battling against superior strength had te-
sorted to scratching and under the fingernails had
remained a bit of skin or a hair or a thread which,
studied under the microscope and the ultra-violet ray,
had supplied information’ about the identity of the
other person, even if it was no more than oknie: he
was white or black.

, Mildred Hallmark obviously had put up a battle
with her assailant. Chief Nussbaum hoped that she had
resorted to scratching and that under her fingernails
there might be some clew. ‘

Already experts had sought fingerprints on her
purse and shoes since the slayer must have handled
them when he tossed them into the ditch after her body.
Microscopes had been used on, all her clothing.

NGTHING that was of any help had been turned up.
Now the Chicago crime laboratory dealt us another
blow. Examination of the slain girl’s fingernail scrapings
revealed nothing. She had not scratched her assailant,
so far as ‘could. be: learned. .

Chief Nussbaum, .as a result, did not concern him-
self particularly with the veritable stream of tips that
peated Into headquarters about_ men with scratched
aces, or black eyes or bruised (Continued on Page 32)

iF
ue
a)
'

4
ve
i

chinery that no laymen could fathom.
The lie detector !

Thompson was entirely willing to be
subjected to a test in the machine. He
watched with interest while Fred Imbau,
expert in use of the detector, made neces-
sary adjustments.

Imbau stepped back to watch the ma-
chine’s delicate gyrations on a panel out
of view of the suspect.

Chief Nussbaum, T. P. Sullivan of
the State Bureau of Criminal Identifi-
cation and Apprehension, and Sheriff
Marcus E. Olson began firing questions
at the youth, reclining beside the lie
detector that had trapped more than one
criminal,

Use Lie Detector

FIRST they asked commonplace ques-
tions. In reply, Gerald told his name,
address, age and occupation. Through
those answers, the machine functioned
smoothly, indicating Thompson was
telling the truth. Then the interroga-
tion turned to new channels.

“Have you ever forced your atten-
tions on girls against their will?” Sulli-
van asked,

- “Never,” the youth answered. Neither
Thompson’s expression nor his tone
were changed as he gave that reply—but
the lie detector indicators fluctuated
wildly. Imbau, standing behind Thomp-
son and out of his view, raised his right
hand in signal to the officers that the
suspect was not telling the truth.

Eagerly, Sullivan and Nussbaum con-
tinued their questioning along the same

line. Asked if he had any knowledge of
the Mildred Hallmark slaying other than
what he had read or been told, Thomp-
son said, “No,” and again the lie de-
tector indicated he was telling a false-
hood.

Told of how the detector was function-
ing, Gerald replied, “Well, any person
would be pretty nervous if they were be-
ing questioned about such things.”

For two hours Gerald, unruffled and
denying all accusations, remained under
the lie detector. He told a straightfor-
ward story and did not contradict him-
self in even the most minute details.

Where had he been on the night of the
murder? To a motion picture theater
with his girl friend, Jane Barton. Chief
Nussbaum checked up on that story.
Jane was a fine young woman of excel-
lent character. Gerald had always
treated her in a gentlemanly manner.

Yes, she had been to the theater with
him Sunday evening. He had driven
her home. She wasn’t sure what time
he left her. Probably 11 o’clock.

Meanwhile, those tireless detectives,
Ford and Welty, had not been idle.
They were rummaging through every
nook and cranny of Gerald’s home. And
assisting them, in the interest of clearing

<—«

her grandson and getting him home
again, was the youth’s aged grand-
mother. ‘

Welty was standing on a chair in a
room leading off Gerald’s bed chamber,
a small room not much larger than a
closet. With a flashlight to aid him he
searched a shelf high up on the wall. On
that shelf were stored Gerald’s high
school year book, his football sweater,
tennis shoes.

Nothing much there, Welty thought,
and then his hand come upon a shallow
box. One glance into the receptacle
was enough. He slipped the box into
his pocket, called to Detective Ford, and
both officers left the house.

A Startling Find

SFEEDIN G to police headquarters,
Welty advised Ford of what he had
discovered in the little box. ‘The de-
tectives went straight to Chief Nuss-
baum’s office and spilled the contents of
the box on his desk.

The chief gasped in amazement. The
box contained half a dozen pornographic
pictures of the filthiest possible type!
And in one of them Gerald was posed
in the nude with a heavily painted

Fred Imbau, above, ace of the Northwestern University

Crime Detection Laboratory’s staff, examines the lust

killer’s car for fingerprints. Imbau also operated the lie
detector in the Peoria case.

Pictured as he first appeared in court, the youthful mur-
derer seemed only mildly interested in the proceedings.

STARTLING DETECTIVE

\ “4
hte Na

The latest type lie detector of the Northwestern University Crime De-

tection Laboratory, pictured here as it was demonstrated by a young

woman in a scientific test of the machine, proved a valuable aid in the
Peoria case. The demonstrator had no connection with the crime.

Gray. Then little differences in features
became apparent to them. A little wider
mouth and darker hair. And a trifle
taller, perhaps, than Gray.

“Where,” Welty asked after a mo-
ment, “did you get those scratches on
the side of your face?”

Detective Ford added, “You'll have to
come to headquarters with us. The
chief will want to talk with you.”

Thompson appeared astounded when
informed he would be questioned about
the Hallmark killing. The scratches on
his face he explained as having been in-
curred while repairing a chicken fence
at the rear of his home. There was such
a fence, and it had been repaired re-
cently.

Thompson lived with his grandmother.
The elderly woman urged the youth to
go along with the officers and aid them
in any way possible in their investiga-
tion. Like all other Peoria citizens, she
was aroused over the Hallmark murder
and wanted the killer brought to
justice.

When they arrived at the station, De-

tectives Ford and Welty informed Chief
Nussbaum that Gerald Thompson was
in custody. The chief was more than
casually interested.

“I just received a telephone call from
a fellow at the tractor works and he told
me Thompson had been acting queerly
and had scratches on his face,” the chief
said. “I want to talk with him.”

Gerald declared himself entirely will- |

ing to talk when he was brought before
Chief Nussbaum. No, he didn’t know

ADVENTURES

anything about assaults on women. He
was as irate over the accusation as any
decent young man would be, and he asked
the police to check with friends, in-
cluding business men, neighbors and
officials at the tractor plant, to prove to
themselves that he was honest and re-
liable.

Has Good Reputation

T DID not take’ long to learn that
4 Thompson was of excellent reputa-
tion. He was kind to children, loved
animals and had purchased baskets of
groceries for needy families.

At the tractor company, young
Thompson was known as _ industrious
and trustworthy. He was not acquainted
with Mildred Hallmark’s father. They
worked in the same building but in dif-
ferent departments.

Chief Nussbaum sighed in discourage-
ment. Another investigation had led no-
where. Certainly this fine, upstanding
youth could not be suspected of being a
fiendish ravisher of women and a mur-
derer.

At that point the possibility arose that
Mildred’s slayer might have been a
negro. A resident of Paris street re-
ported a negro had broken into his home,
only a short distance from the Hall-
mark residence, on the night following
the murder. The prowler had fled when
the householder spied him.

Fearing race riots might develop,
Chief Nussbaum kept the information se-
cret. Instead, he communicated quietly

Faced with the Hallmark myster
only a few or after he took of-
fice as chief of police, Fred Nuss-
baum whipped a difficult assign-
ment in brilliant fashion.

with scientists of the Northwestern Uni-
versity Crime Detection Laboratory at
Chicago, specialists retained to put every
bit of tangible.evidence in the case under
their powerful microscopes.

They reported back that segments of
torn skin found under the girl’s finger-
nails definitely came from a white man,
so Chief Nussbaum gave up the round-
up he had started for negro attack sus-
pects.

Nussbaum’s theory was reverting to
the nameless alcoholic in the hospital
when Detectives Ford and Welty, con-
tinuing their policy of working twenty-
four hours on the case out of every
twenty-four, telephoned from Thomp-
son’s home with exciting news to report.

In Gerald’s automobile they had come
upon startling evidence.

The inside handle of the front, right
side door was detachable! There were
stains of what might be blood on the
upholstery! And tucked under the front
seat cushion was a pair of scissors!

That was strong evidence that Peoria’s
sex-mad slayer had used the automobile.
Gerald admitted it possible that the au-
tomobile had figured in some of the at-
tacks. “I’ve loaned my car to a lot of
fellows to use,” he explained, and began
giving a list of them.

Even as the Thompson youth talked
with the chief in his City Hall offices,
dray men were carrying into the build-
ing an intricate device composed of
gadgets, speaking tube, instrument
board, folding couch and bits of ma-

Soe A

hia

Sa eK colt

ee Se ee 2

woman who looked brazenly. into the
camera.

This was proof, Nussbaum realized at
once, that Gerald was not the clean-
living young chap that he claimed to be.
Surely, no decent man would pose for
such a photograph.

The other pictures consisted mainly of
nude photographs of woung women in
Peoria’s “levee district,” the demi-monde
section of the town.

But there was other evidence in the
box—a little black notebook filled with
names of women! Chief Nussbaum be-
gan reading through the book. Part of
its inscriptions seemed to be in code.
Suddenly he came across a written line
that brought him to his feet.

It was the name of Mrs. Fred G.
Barry, first of all the Peoria women who
had complained of being molested by the
lust monster, and opposite was the date
on which she had been attacked!

Thompson was bundled from his cell,
placed under the lie detector and con-
fronted with the photographs and note-
book.

The young machinist laughed shortly
when shown the evidence. He appeared
not in the least nonplussed.

“I figured you’d find that stuff,” he
said, “but I wasn’t going to talk until
you did.

“Now, get this straight. I don’t know
a thing about the Hallmark murder or

ADVENTURES,

any other killing. Stuff like that is out
of my line. I wouldn’t do that to any
woman,

“I admit I’m responsible for those
rapings. But raping a woman and kill-
ing her are two different things. I
wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

Then Thompson went on to recite a
tale that made the clenched fists of
officers gathered around him itch to beat
the complacent smile from his face. His
story was even more horrible than the
tearful pleas of girls and women he had
despoiled, and he told it without a flicker
of emotion or regret—even seeming to
relish the telling of it.

A Shocking Recital
“7 GOT every woman that I ever
wanted,” he boasted. “Sometimes I
had to wait quite a while for my chance,
but I always got them.

“The first time was when I was only
16 years old. She was a few years
younger, I met her on a quiet road as
I was walking to the river to fish. I
dragged her in some bushes. She prob-
ably told her parents, because she was
crying pretty hard when I left, but I
never heard anything about it.”

In later years, the vicious young
brute calmly related, he selected his
victims from among young married
women or daughters of well-known

families, explaining that he didn’t want
to risk complaints to police. Not onlv
would the girls he selected be ashamed
to tell authorities, he said, but their
parents or husbands would discourage
them from doing so.

“Sometimes the girls I picked up
would fight me, even try to knock me out
by hitting me over the head with a
purse,” he continued, “and those I would
clip in the jaw and knock them out.

“Before starting anything, I always
tried to get them into a lonesome place
where they couldn’t call for help. Then I
would explain why I had brought them
there and tell them they would be beaten
up if they fought me. Lots of them gave
in without struggling much after I
slapped them a few times to show I
meant business.”

Before the gaze of police officers
horrified by his calm recital of ruin-
ing women, Gerald riffled through the
pages of his notebook, chuckling and
leering now and then as he, halted to
describe in detail his experiences with
one or another of the unfortunate vic-
tims.

He explained the symbols in the book
as meaning particularly filthy details of
his crimes, saying he feared to write out
the words because the book might be
found. Two of the names were desig-
nated with “X” marks. Those, he said.

[Continued on page 73]
47

pen ig sc ETT

few years later his daughter, pretty and
clever Italia, followed. She found her
father had a new sweetheart—the dark-
haired, attractive widow, Mrs. Agnes
Little. Mrs. D’Inzeo was on her way to
America. Gaetano assured his daughter
that he would turn his back on this law-
less romance, that when his wife arrived
all would be well. And it was—for
awhile.

Mrs. D’Inzeo, angered because her
husband had left her, had gone to the
Municipal Court to complain of his faith-
lessness. She was there telling her story
to the judge, even as her husband’s body
lay stark in the Philadelphia morgue.

Mrs. Little’s family told the rest of the
story. They knew D’Inzeo. They be-

were victims who had told him he might
call on them, but he never had for fear
of being trapped.

“T got so I liked to have them fight
me,” he said. “I used to like to beat
them.”

Thompson had operated with diabol-
ical cunning. He had maintained a spot-
less reputation on the surface so it might
not be suspected that he was a fearful
menace to women. Always, he had se-
lected his victims in advance and de-
termined that they moved in different
circles than he so that they would not be
apt to encounter and identify him later.

By this time the officers had grown too
disgusted to listen to more of Thomp-
son’s boastful story. They turned to
questioning him about the murder of Mil-
dred Hallmark.

Furiously, the suspect denied having
had anything to do with the killing. Re-
lentlessly the officers questioned and ac-
cused him. Eight times the lie detector
testing was halted for a few moments
when Thompson complained his arm
was numb from the tight bandage that
kept his blood pressure under constant
observation. And eight times the ques-
tioning was resumed.

It was a dramatic scene in Chief Nuss-
baum’s office. The officers removed their
coats, loosened their collars and dashed
perspiration from their brows as they
hammered away with their questioning,
trying to break Gerald into dangerous
admissions.

With the lie detector indicating truth
and falsehood—mostly the latter—he
reclined beneath glaring white lights
and sneered denials.

In an ante-room sat the two persons
who had come promptly to Gerald’s de-
fense after they had learned he was in
trouble—his grandmother and Miss Bar-
ton. “Jerry” was innocent, they pro-
tested. He was not being given rest or
food. He had no lawyer, they cried to
police, and his rights as a citizen were
being violated.

Midnight came and passed. It was
1:30 o’clock on the morning of Saturday,
June 22. In his office, Chief Nussbaum
drummed at the youth, “You killed Mildred
Hallmark and you might as well confess.”

Through the first floor windows of the
office came an ominous rumbling. He
looked out and saw groups of aroused

scones from eeee 47)

lieved he was unmarried. He was ardent,
jealous, paid ‘assiduous court to the
widow. They had gone walking—the
club was less than a mile away—they
had never returned.

Two police departments wrote the
strange and tragic story off their books.
No witness ever was found who had
overheard the quarrel, or had seen the
murder. And the deadly little .25 caliber
automatic remains to this day a minor
mystery, for it never turned up. Perhaps
it is still lying, deep among the roots of
an old tree, along that drive of the Cedar-
brook Country Club, where members
park their cars on dance nights, where
young romance is unaware of the dark
tragedy of love that was played there.

townspeople standing about the streets
in groups of two and three. More were
arriving constantly.

Word had somehow leaked out that
Thompson had confessed the attacks on
women. Peoria citizens were gathering
to take justice in their own hands. Chief
Nussbaum realized that he must work
fast. In a few minutes it would be too
dangerous to keep Thompson in the
present place. And still he did not want
to remove him because the cumbersome
lie detector would be difficult to take
along.

Hoping for time enough to gain a con-
fession before the assembling mob out-
side would get out of hand, the chief re-
turned to interrogating Thompson. De-
tectives Welty and Ford took the diffi-
cult assignment of trying to quiet the
crowd.

The grim drama in the chief’s office
continued, but Thompson’s nerve was
breaking. “Get me out of here before
that mob breaks in,” he begged the chief.
The officer gazed sternly at him without

‘reply.

Screams Confession

"THE rumbling of the mob outside
grew louder. It became a roar, with
mounting crescendo. “Get a rope,” a
frenzied woman shrieked. “I’ve got
one,” a man shouted, and the mob moved
forward.

A weary policeman appeared at the
door of the chief’s office and said, “We
can’t hold ’em back much longer, Chief,
and once they start breaking in nothing
will stop ’em.”

Thompson cringed. His face became a
deathly white and his hands twisted. In
that mob, he knew, were husbands,
fathers, sweethearts, brothers of the
young women he had wronged. Some
of the victims, too, probably. And all of
outraged Peoria seemed to be with them.

“It would be a swell break for you if
I confessed, even though I am inno-
cent,” Gerald muttered to Nussbaum.

Nussbaum replied, ““We know you're
not innocent, and we don’t want you to
admit anything you didn’t do.”

The youth dropped his face upon
shaking hands. The sound of the mob
thundered in his ears.

“Get me out of here!” he finally

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30 FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE

entered the room. He was Sergeant John Donohue of the
bureau of identification, and like Licutenant McCarthy
he proceeded directly to the still figure on the bed,

“Murder!” He uttered the one word sententiously and
then drew back. ‘“‘Has the body been touched?" He di-
rected the question to both McCarthy and Trammell.

“I touched her arm lightly,” said the police officer.

“And I pulled the bed clothes off her face,” declared
Trammell with a shudder.

Sergeant Donahue nodded and set up his camera. He
proceeded to photograph the body from every angle, and
by the time he had completed operations, Lieutenant Otto
Erlanson of the homicide division and a deputy coroner
arrived. The county official ordered the body removed to
a nearby mortuary, and the police investigation swung
into its stride.

The first move was to send Thomas Trammell to the
First District station, where he was turned over to Cap-
tain George O'Connor. In the presence of the captain,
Lieutenant Erlanson, Assistant State’s Attorney Morris
Meyers, Captain Dan Gilbert of the prosecutor’s office,
Sergeant James Colman and myself, he told the story
of his romance and marriage.

“J met my wife just a year and a half ago in Knoxville,
Tennessee, where I was a concessionaire on the Tennes-
see Valley Authority project,” he said. “Her maiden name
was Mary Louise Link. She was twenty-three years old
then, and it was love at first sight. We married a month
after I met her. I’m forty, but she never considered there
was any real disparity in our ages.

“Well, after the wedding, hard luck seemed to follow
us. I lost out with the TVA. I went to Georgia and then
to Ohio, looking for a job, while Mary stayed down south
with her folks. Finally, three months ago, I landed a job
with the Grand Trunk Railroad as a dining car steward.
She came here a month ago to join me. We've lived at the
State Hotel ever since.”

“Why the State Hotel?” asked Captain Gilbert.

“Well—”’ Trammell hesitated as though embarrassed.

“Well, you see 1 don't get much money-—only eighty dol-
lars a month for two weeks’ work-——and so we had to
keep down expenses. The rent there was only five dollars
a week, and we lived as closely as possible. I married her
because I loved her and wanted to take care of her, and
I was looking for a better paying job all the time”

or These casuals, rounded up by Chicago detectives from parks, hobo “jungles” outside the city, and other

places where derelicts gather, were grilled thoroughly in an attempt to find Mrs. Trammell’s assailant, They
a . are shown lined up at police headquarters. ;

When Mrs. T
knock on her
tn 40 find the

“When did
“Yesterda)
take my run
3:30 this aft«
across to the
“Would ar
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he smile from his
urway.
imself. “The clerk

orridor floor and
- He could barely
it when he did so,
anxious eyes he

onds he was una-
utched the lintel.
thed,

1¢ corridor floor,
way. Clerk Bon,

m! She’s on the

Bon reached swiftly for a passkey and led the way to
the floor above. But when he tried to insert the key, he
shook his head.

“The door’s locked from the inside, Mr. Trammell. Give
me a leg up to the transom.”

Stooping, the frantic husband half squatted and made
a step of his right hand. Bon pulled himself up to the
transom and looked into the room. A glance was sufficient.
He let himself down and stared at the husband.

“We've got to get in there, Mr. Trammell!”

“Break the glass!’ exclaimed the husband.

“No, I can make it through the window from the fire
escape.”

The clerk unlocked the door at Room 252 which stood
at a right angle to Room 250. He ran to the window, threw
up the sash and stepped out on the spidery iron runway.
Then while the agonized husband watched from the
window, Bon swung himself over the railing at the south
end. He could reach the window with his left hand; to
push up the sash and thrust out the half screen was but
the work of a second. The clerk scrambled through the
opening, reached the room door and turned the key to
admit the husband whose eyes saw nothing but the
strangely still figure on the bed.

“Mary! Mary! My God! Mary!”

His voice rang through the open door and down the
grimy corridor, and he tore at the heap of pillows and
bedding that partly covered the woman. Then he recoiled.

“She’s dead! Mary’s dead!’ he moaned.

Bon, shocked into immobility, stared at the face on the
bed—the face with the open eyes that regarded only in-
finity. His professional training, suddenly reasserted it-
self, however, and he spoke with decision.

“Tll have to call the police, Mr. Trammell,” he said.

IVE MINUTES after the clerk’s message reached head-
quarters, heavy feet pounded up the hotel stairway.

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Police Lieutenant James McCarthy, leading several mem-
bers of his squad, asked:

“What’s the trouble here?”

“There’s a woman dead in Room 250 on the next floor,”
said Bon, pointing upward. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He led the way to the room, Backed into a corner was
the husband, his face ashen gray and dripping with sweat.
Lieutenant McCarthy gave him no more than a glance.
His attention was centered on the bed. Cautiously, with
professional skill, his finger touched the outflung wrist of
the dead woman.

“Been dead for hours and rigor mortis has set in,” he
said. He, leaned over and looked closely into the upturned
face.

“Both eyes bruised and blackened. Finger marks on the
throat. Blood on the pillow beneath the head. That’s
enough! This is a murder!”

Lieutenant McCarthy wheeled to the members of his
squad. “One of you boys call headquarters,” he snapped.
“Tell them to notify the coroner, the bureau of identifi-
cation, and the homicide division. Take this clerk down-
stairs and check the employes of the hotel. Go through
all the other rooms on this floor, but be careful!”

He turned to the man who still stood in the corner.

“Now, you, sir, what’s your name?”

“Thomas Trammell,” answered the other dully.

“Who is this woman?” ;

“My wife, Mary Louise Trammell.”

“Have you any idea of what happened here?”

Trammell shook his head.

“I found her—found her myself,” he said brokenly. “I
just got in from my run on the railroad half an hour ago.
I found her de-——, like this!”

Lieutenant McCarthy looked at him sharply.

“Come on, man, pull yourself together,” he said. “You’ll
have to give us some help.” .

A bulky newcomer carrying a businesslike kit bag

By Detective Peter J. Bernacchi
Chicago Police Department

AS TOLD TO HARRY READ ’

WOULD SLENDER LEADS
SNARE THE STRANGLER
WHO SLEW THE WOMAN
IN ROOM 250?

-only eighty dol-
ind so we had to
is only five dollars

‘ble. I married her

« care of her, and
ll the time"

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE 31

When Mrs. Trammell (above) failed to answer the

knock on her door, her husband and a clerk broke

in to find that she had been brutally slain; Finger
marks were on her throat,

“When did you see her last?” asked Prosecutor Meyers.

“Yesterday, Saturday morning, at 9:30. I left then to
take my run out to Michigan. The return trip got me in at
3:30 this afternoon. I bought the box of candy and walked
across to the hotel, thinking how pleased she'd be.”

“Would anybody be jealous of you?” asked Captain
O'Connor.

“Lord, no! We didn’t know a soul in Chicago. I’ll tell
you, though, I warned her many times to be careful about
the windows in that room. She would leave them open in
this hot weather, and I said she ought to leave a chair
there, so that if anybody came in they would knock it
over and waken her.”

He stopped talking. We looked from one to another, and
then an almost imperceptible nod ran about the ring of
heads. We were all veterans of the police department, and
none of us could detect an improbability or an apparent
flaw in his story. Captain O'Connor spoke again.

“Very well, Mr. Trammell, you may go back to your
hotel, or any other hotel you wish. Please notify us where
you are, though, so we can get you in a hurry.”

He opened the door and Trammell walked out.

“He’s clean in this,” commented Sergeant Colman, my
partner for many years.

There was a chorus of assent from the group. Then we
settled down to a consideration of the many important
factors in this weird crime of Sunday, August 16, 1936.

HE room in which murder had been done was sparsely
equipped with cheap furniture, of which the metal
bed claimed our closest attention. Outside of the fact that
the bed clothing and pillows had been stripped off and
thrown over the head and upper part of the woman’s
body, there was little disorder. That little centered about
the contents of Mrs. Trammell’s pocketbook which had
been emptied over the seat of a straight-backed chair.
A handkerchief and a lipstick had fallen to the floor,

but as far as we knew, they might have been jolted off the
chair by Bon or Trammell. There might or might not be
significance in the emptied handbag—I have seen many
women turn their purses inside out to find some little
accessory wanted in a hurry.

The coroner's report, telephoned to us from the mortu-
ary, disclosed that Mrs. Trammell had been beaten, ap-
parently with fists, choked, and pounded on the head
with a blunt instrument that had split the scalp along the
hairline. No weapon was in sight; in fact, the only easily
movable object in the room was a water pitcher that
rested on a window sill.

There were two windows in the room, and both faced
east over the elevated electric railroad that ran down the
alley between State Street and Wabash Avenue. It was
not the main line that passed that way, however—merely
a dead-end spur running between Harrison and Congress
Streets. The structure itself was barely three feet from
the fire escape landing, and we considered a theory that
the murderer might have gained the fire escape from
the right of way. The presence of a heavily-charged elec-
tric rail on the outside edge precluded that possibility,
however. The fire escape was of the cantilever type, but
the swinging stairway was up in place.

The bureau of identification went over the room inch
by inch. Smudged fingerprints were found on the bed-
stead, the furniture and water pitcher, but the only ones
identifiable were those of Mrs. Trammell herself. A large
imprint in the dust on the outside sill of the north window
—-the one nearest the fire escape—came to mean nothing
when we learned that Bon, the hotel clerk, had entered
the room by that route.

os.

THE NUDE CORPSE-
THE LAUNDRY CHECK :

CLUE...

T WAS hot, terrifically hot, as only an August after-
noon in Chicago can be. Yet the middle-aged man
carrying the box of candy hurriedly made his way

across State Street to the east side of the Harrison Street
intersection. With his free hand he mopped the perspira-
tion from his face. Now and again he smiled, as pleasant
thoughts registered themselves on his round, cheerful
face. A few more steps and he entered the State Hotel at
No. 553,
“My key?” he said to the clerk at the desk.
~The clerk, John W. Bon, glanced at the letterbox.
“Mrs. Trammell must be in, Mr. Trammell. I don't
believe she’s been down all day. Awfully hot, isn’t it?”
The man with the candy nodded a smiling assent, and
turning to tl e stairway, went up to the door of Room 250.
His hand strayed toward the knob, drew back, and then
his fingers beat a gentle tattoo on the frosted glass panel.
No answer came from the room.
Again his fingers tapped the glass, more loudly this

AND THE

time. Still no answer. A frown chased the smile from his
face, and he half-turned towards the stairway.

“No, she must be in there,” he told himself. “The clerk
said she had the key.”

He laid the box of candy on the corridor floor and
glanced at the lintel below the transom. He could barely
reach it with his outstretched fingers, but when he did so,
he chinned himself up with ease. With anxious eyes he
glanced through the transom.

His body went rigid, and for long seconds he was una-
ware of the strain on his fingers as he clutched the lintel.

“My God in Heaven!” he finally breathed.

There was a thud as his feet struck the corridor floor,
and a clatter as they beat on the stairway. Clerk Bon,
working at the desk, looked up.

“My wife—my wife!” gasped Trammell.

“What's the trouble?” asked Bon.

“Tt looked—looked through the transom! She’s on the
bed, naked. I think—I think she’s dead!”

Bon :
the floo
shook h

“The
me a le;

Stoo;
a step
transon
He let }

“We’

“Bre:

“No,
escape.

The «
atarig
up the
Then \
windov
end. H:
push u
the wo

. openin;
admit
strange

ae al

SWAIN, Rufo, black, electrocuted Cook County, Illinois, on February 26, 1937.

RE PEE

MASTER | DETECTIVE,
April, 1939
The Story Thus Far:
‘

N Chicago an ape-like killer is at large, preying on defenseless

women. A shocking prologue to the series of diabolical
crimes is the murder of Mrs. Florence Castle Thompson, at-
tractive young night-club hostess and divorcée. In the early
morning hours of June 29th, 1936, the former singer’s little
son, Jimmy, tells the desk clerk of the Devonshire Hotel that,
“Somebody choked my mama!” Going to the divorcée’s room,
the clerk finds that she has been slain. There is a gaping wound
in her head.

The authorities are notified. Chief of Detectives John L.
Sullivan, Captain William O’Brien and State’s Attorney
Thomas Courtney investigate. Scrawled in scarlet on the mir-
ror of the murder room are the cryptic words, “Black ‘Legon’
—Game.” Chief Sullivan is of the opinion that this has been
left to mislead the police into believing the crime is the work
of the Black Legion. The lethal weapon, a brick, is also found.
Florence Castle, the name by which the former singer was
known to associates, has been criminally assaulted.

Little Jimmy Thompson tells officials that he awoke and
saw a “big black man hitting mv mama.” Inquiry into the
victim’s past and questioning of her three divorced husbands
strengthen the belief that she had not been slain by any one
she knew. Sidney Schapps, a friend of the murdered woman,
informs the authorities of a mysterious man in an automobile
who had accosted Mrs. Castle the previous day. “Florence was
evidently afraid of him,” declared Schapps.

In May, 1936, Lois Reichert, 2 nurse, had been severely
wounded by a prowler who entered her room in St. Luke’s
Hospital, struck her on the head with a brick, and fled when
other nurses sounded the alarm. Fearing that more women
will fall prey to the elusive fiend, all known sex criminals in

Master

movements were as sure-footed as those of a eat. His hiur
was close-eropped and his hands were large and strong.

Chief Sullivan instructed the squads to continue bringing
in sex crime suspects, and arranged for Jimmy and Nurse
Reichert to view them. The prisoners already in custody
were turned over to Prosecutor Thomas J. Courtney's special
bureau—with the result that twelve of them were identified
in petty. crimes and three were sent back to prison as parole
violators.

“The roundup seems to be bringing in quite a few bad
characters,” Suilivan commented, “even though we haven’t
caught the man we want most.”

TS his Chicago Avenue District,
began an investigation along different lines. He inquired
into the vicious and insidious “call flat” racket; a vice evil
that police had been striving for months to crush. The sys-
tem, shrouded by stealth and intrigue, had flourished in spite
of police efforts. .

Call flats obtained their name because they operated in
apartments, or “flat” buildings, and because visitors were
required to make advance arrangements by a telephone call.
The establishments offered the companionship of young
women.

The places sometimes existed, by maintaining the greatest
outward aura of respectability, in reputable residential dis-
tricts. Only a few weeks before the Castle murder, one of
them had been raided in the “Gold Coast” area, where reside
Chicago’s business, civic and social leaders.

The operators and inmates, usually not more than two or
three young women, moved often to keep ahead of the police.
The girls frequently called by appointment at the rooms of
men in the North Side hotel sector, locale of the Devonshire.

Mrs. Castle certainly had never been involved in the “call
flat” racket; but Captain O’Brien reasoned that girls from
the resorts frequented night clubs and cocktail bars, making
the acquaintance of men there.

“Plorence Castle was around night clubs a great deal, too,”
the Captain pointed out to Chief Sullivan. “Some of these
‘racket. girls’ must have known her. Maybe one of them
can give us a clue as to why she was killed.”

Captain O’Brien questioned a score of young women before
he hit upon anything valuable. Most of the girls, forlorn
creatures who detested the degrading lives they led, frankly
admitted being inmates of “call flats.” Many of them had
known Florence Castle, having met her in the “Nut House”
or in other cafés.

A tiny, bleached blonde, whose rouged face and hardened
features betrayed more years than she ever would have ad-

Captain William O’Brien

who preyed

Sergeant Harold J. Murphy (above), of
the Chicago police, examines the brick
arith \! Deery 2 Biers

which

‘mitted, gave Captain

Mayor Edward J. Kelly, of Chicago (be-
low). He spurred the police to a relentless
hunt for the long-armed murder monster

Detective

O'Brien his first definite information.

“Florence was afraid of one man,” the blonde declared,
“T don't know who the man was or anything about him;
but Florence told me about two weeks ago that she was
terrified of him. She said that she’d notify the police if he
kept on annoying her. I asked her for his name, and told
her I’d have some sluggers take care of him, but she wouldn’t
tell me.

“Tt seemed to me that Florence was embarrassed about
this fellow. She asked me to forget that she had mentioned
him to me. She acted awfully strange about it all.”

Captain O'Brien's mind flashed at once to the man in the
automobile, who had accosted Mrs. Castle on her way home
from the “Nut House’—the man of whom Sidney Schapps
believed Mrs. Castle was afraid. Again that mysterious figure
had entered the case.

“We must get that man!” O’Brien vowed.

But carrying out that determination was a far more diffi-
cult matter than making the pledge to do so. The fellow
had vanished like some ghostly wraith. There was no one
who knew him, no hint as to his identity.

Weeks passed and the Castle murder remained unsolved.
The Chief of Detectives investigated along every line that
might possibly lead to a solution, but every inquiry even-
tually reached a blank wall of failure.

Jimmy Thompson was taken to live with relatives in
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. Friends and relatives provided
a funeral for his mother. Miss Reichert left the city for
work in an eastern hospital.

Then came the extremely hot Sunday afternoon of August
16th, 1936—and the discovery of another woman murdered
in Chicago.

This woman was Mrs. Mary Louise Trammell, aged
twenty-four, attractive wife of a railroad dining-car steward.
The husband found her dead when he returned from his
work to their rooms in the State Hotel, 535 South State
Street.

Mrs. Trammell’s body lay on the bed. Her skull had been
erushed with a pewter water pitcher that stood on a bureau.
She had been criminally attacked.

Sergeant Peter Bernacchi, veteran officer, who had had ten
years’ service with the Detective Bureau, was placed in
charge of the case. Into his hands came a little black note-
book that had been dropped on the hotel fire escape a week
before the murder.

The notebook led to Rufo Swain, 24-vear-old negro. Swain
surrendered and, after denying the killing for hours, finally
confessed to the murder. He had dropped the book on a
previous visit to the hotel.

Before motion picture cam-
eras and witnesses he reenacted
the crime. Swain, a former
college athlete in the South,
swung himself up a fire escape
at the rear of the hotel, made
his way to the room where Mrs.
Trammell had been slain, and
demonstrated how he had killed
her.

The fire escape stopped
twelve feet above the ground
and police had not believed it
could be climbed. The prisoner
astounded them by his athletic
prowess.

Immediately there was a hue
and ery in the newspapers that
Swain probably was the mur-
derer of Mrs. Castle and guilty
of other attacks on women. He
denied any other crimes, and
lie detector tests indicated he
was telling the truth. His fin-
eerprints did not match those
in Mrs. Castle’s room. Jimmy
. Thompson and Miss Reichert

were summoned back to Chi-
cago, but they could not iden-
tify him.

After being tried by a jury,

pene f

on defenseless women.

heen
ork
and.
Was

and
the
nds
one
yan
oly

rely
uke’s
«hen
ymen
ds im

acpi phe IE

By JOHN CLEMENT

ch ua ail

M. KELLEY ARNOLD

Attractive Alda Deery (right), talented young dancer,
narrowly escaped death at the hands of the phantom of
the fire escapes. Her description of the elusive nocturnal
prowler was of aid to the Chicago police authorities

(Left) In the room indicated by
arrow, at the rear of a downtown
Chicago hotel, comely Mrs. Mary
Louise Trammell (oval) was bru-
tally beaten to death by a fiend
who crept through the window
from the fire escape. With the
arrest of her slayer, officials be-
lieved the crimes would end, but—

Chicago are picked up. In the Head-
quarters showup room, these men are
paraded before Miss Reichert and Jimmy
Thompson. Investigators wait anxiously.
Will the nurse or the boy be able to
identify one of the suspects?

The Story Continues:
Parr II

IGHTS snapped on in the amphi-

theatre of the showup room at

4 Chicago’s Police Headquarters

as the last suspect shuffled down

from the raised platform at the front of
the room.

Nurse Reichert sighed with relief.
Across the platform, under brillant
spotlights, had passed 263 prisoners;
many of them dangerous criminals.

“No,” she told Chief of Detectives
John L. Sullivan, “the man who attacked
me was not among those prisoners. I’d
have recognized him in a flash if he
had been.” .

Jimmy Thompson, too, shook his
head. “The man who hit my mama
wasn’t there,” he declared.

Miss Reichert said that the fiend who
had struck her down was a tall negro,
probably over six feet in height. He had
long, spe-like arms, she stated, and his

compartment door and climbed into the
upper berth.”

The statement then related the girl’s
futile struggle with Stephenson. larly
next morning the train stopped at Haim-
mond, Indiana, and she was taken to the
“ndiana Ifotel in that town.

Later “Shorty.” the chauffeur, arrived,
having driven the ear from Indianapolis.
Stephenson stepped outside the room to
speak to him, and the girl took the re-
volver from his coat. She placed it against
her temple, intending to kill herself, but
at that moment Gentry burst into the
room and snatched the gun from her hand.

She had later taken some poison she
managed to obtain. But this had not
caused her death.

After the trio returned to Indianapolis
Miss Oberholtzer was kept prisoner in
Stephenson’s garage.

“How long I was there I don’t know,”

Master Detective

the statement concluded. “Lb felt I was
dying by inches, and jialf the time I was
out of my head, Finally everything be-
eame a blank, and when I woke up Il
was here in this hospital.”

During the trial the Pullman porter,
Levi Thomas, testified that he had seen
Stephenson and Gentry take the girl into
a compartment the night of Mareh 15th.
Theodore Wilson, the clerk at the Indiana
Hotel, of Hammond, identified Stephen-
son as the man who had rented Room
416 the morning of March 16th, signing
the register, “W. D. Morgan and wife.”
Mrs, Schultz pointed to Ilinck as one of
the men who had brought the victim
home on the night of March 28th.

The jury was out six hours. The ver-
dict was:

“We find David C, Stephenson guilty
of murder in the second degree.”

KXlinck and Gentry were acquitted.

On Monday,

November 16th, 1925,
Judge Sparks sentenced Stephenson to the
Indiana State Penitentiary at} Michigan
Cily for the rest of his natural life. At
iwo o'clock that afternoon he started for
prison with Sheriff Charles W. Gooding.

All his cocksure assurance was gone, and

with it all his swageer. Handeutfed to
the Sherif, he slumped in his seat, his
puffy face and pudgy body a study in
self-pity. He could no longer boast:

“T am the law in Indiana.”

Recently, however—near the end of
1988—Stephenson’s lawyer filed a writ of
error coram nobis, which is equivalent to
a motion for a new trial, in the Circuit
Court at Noblesville, Indiana, In Febru-
ary, 1939, Stephenson renewed his fight
for his release from prison, because of
“public prejudice” at the time of his first
trial. As this is written, action on the
writ for a new trial is pending,

On the Trail of Chicago’s Murder Monster

was electrocuted four months later for
the murder of Mrs, Trammell. Chief
Sullivan and other police officials de-
‘clared themselves confident that he had
had no part in the Castle case. =

“We want another man for the killing
of Mrs. Castle,” the Chief of Detectives
said, “and we'll get him. ;

“T sincerely hope that, in the meantime,
he will take the fate of Rufo Swain as a
lesson—that Chicago women will be safe
from him now.”

But Sullivan’s hopes were doomed to
fall far short of fulfillment.

T eleven o’clock on the night of Sep-

tember 25th, Miss Alda Deery, mine-
teen years old, was preparing for bed in
her room at the Washington Hotel, 167
West Washington Street, just off La Salle
Street in the downtown district. Miss
Deery was a dancer appearing at the
Chicago Theatre and was known on
stages from coast to coast for her beauty
and Terpsichorean ability.

Because her window opened on a large
parking lot at the rear of the hotel and
there were no adjacent buildings from
which she could be seen, Alda did not
trouble to draw the shade as she un-
dressed. No prying eyes could see her—
or so she thought.

Tired, after appearing in four stage
shows at the theatre, she stepped out of
her silken garments and stood before her
mirror, applying cold cream to her face.

She was entirely unaware of a leering,
diabolical creature who gazed in upon
her—a man clinging by long, ape-like
arms to the window ledge.

Alda donned pajamas and slipped be-
tween the sheets. Relaxation was luxury
to her wearied muscles. She slept al-
most immediately.

Hanging to the window ledge, the prow-
ler worked silently and quickly. He
loosened the screen and placed it on the
fire-escape landing, which was six feet
below him. Inch by inch he opened the
window until it would admit him. Then
he squirmed his way over the sill.

Standing in the darkened room, the in-
iruder removed a crude weapon from a
pocket of his coat. It was a brick. He
stepped to the bed and turned the beam
of a flashlight on the face of the sleeping

irl.

7 Miss Deery was blinded for a moment.
The thought came to her that some of
the other girls in her theatrical troupe
were playing a joke. Then the man
spoke. His voice was deep, almost. hoarse.
“One move and [ll kill you!” He held

(Continued from page 16)

the brick in the flashlight’s rays.

Alda opened her mouth to scream, but
the intruder sensed her intent. The brick
struck her head with crushing force.
Again and again the man struck her. She
lost. consciousness.

It was some minutes later when an-
other guest on Miss Deery’s floor detected
the odor of something burning. He saw
a curl of smoke waft through the transom
of the dancer’s door, ran to his own
room and shouted an alarm into the tele-
phone.

Hotel attaches with fire extinguishers
burst into Miss Deery’s room. Theatrical
costumes and street clothing were blazing
in a closet. Part of the carpet was in
flames. The fire had not spread far, how-
ever, and was quickly extinguished.

Lights were switched on, and then the
girl’s form was seen lying on the bed.

Blood flowed from her scalp. “She’s dead!”

cried one of the hotel employees. But
Alda still lived. She moaned and moved
slightly.

With wailing sirens, two fire engines
pulled up before the hotel, responding to
an alarm turned in by one of the guests.
Not far behind was Sergeant Bernacchi
and his Headquarters squad.

Miss Deery was rushed to St. Luke’s
Hospital. Less seriously injured than had
first been feared, she regained conscious-

ness and gave investigators a statement.’

She could supply little definite informa-

tion, however, for she had seen her at-'

tacker only faintly. ;
“He was a big man,” she said, “and he

Former Chief of Detectives John L.
Sullivan, of Chicago, who was in charge
of the investigation in that city. He
is now Chief of Police of Cicero, Ul.

talked with a hoarse voice. I think he
had a Southern accent—sort of a drawl.
His arms seemed unusually long, but
that’s all I can remember.”

On the floor of the room Sergeant Bern-
acchi found the brick with which the girl
had been struck. In the closet, where the
fire had been most severe, was a crum-
pled, partly burned ball of newspapers.
Some of the papers were bloodstained.

“That’s how the fire started.” Bernacchi
theorized. “The killer wiped blood from
his hands on the newspapers. Then he
set fire to the paper in order to destroy
any prints.”

Experts found that the fingerprints on
the newspapers were hopelessly smeared,
and the remainder of the room revealed
no prints of consequence to the investi-
gation.

As he examined the room, Sergeant
Bernacchi stepped to the window and
looked downward. He whistled in sur-
prise, as he turned to his colleague, Ser-
geant Harold J. Murphy.

“Whew! The fellow who got in this
window surely was agile! Why, it would
take a monkey to make that climb!”

Murphy agreed. There was truth in
Bernacchi’s observation. To gain ac-
cess to the window, the intruder had ap-
parently stood on the fire escape six feet
below, grasped the window ledge with
his fingers and pulled himself up. He
would have had to cling to the ledge
while removing the screen and opening
the window. Only an athlete could have
accomplished. it.

“Looks like some of Rufo Swain’s work,
doesn’t it?” a detective observed.

ERGEANT Bernacchi nodded, “Yes,

but Swain is safe in Death Row of the
county jail, awaiting trial. He didn’t do
this job.”

Public resentment reached fever heat
when sensational newspaper headlines told
of the fiendish assault on Miss Deery.
Again there were protests from press,
pulpit and women’s groups. Radio com-
mentators and newspaper columnists re-
ferred in scathing terms to the Police
Department’s failure, to. make an im-
mediate arrest.

Commissioner Allman and Mayor
Edward J. Ixelly spurred the police to a
relentless hunt. The Mayor offered a
$1,000 reward for capture of the “brick
man.” Chief Sullivan and Captain John
Prendergast. of the uniformed division,
redoubled the number of squads’ patrol-
ling the Loop to prevent further outrages.

And then—as if capture might be

Se See ne aes

rorget it. Waste no part of your life
sayety in this world.
ivelope, which was empty, bore
the to.uiowing name and address: ‘Miss
\tildred Hallmark, 100 East Maywood
\venue, Peoria, Illinois.”

“Why, that’s only a couple of blocks
from here,” Welty pointed out.

“And that’s probably the girl’s name,”
Nussbaum observed. “You and Ford
had better go over there immediately.
You can report to me at Headquarters
as soon as you've finished.”

Following the arrival of an ambu-
lance, the slain girl’s body was re-
moved to a funeral home.

Ten minutes after leaving Spring-
dale Cemetery, Detectives Welty and
Ford ascended the steps of a neat, frame
bungalow on Maywood Avenue. Before
they had time to knock, the door was
opened by a slender, anxious-eyed man
in his late forties. Behind him the
officers saw a motherly woman with
gray hair, her face streaked with tears,
and a handkerchief clutched in her
hands. A girl in her early twenties
peered anxiously over her mother’s
shoulder. She was Ruby Hallmark, the
slain girl’s sister.

“T’m John Hallmark,” the man said
quickly. “Do you have word about my
daughter?”

“Yes,” Welty replied reluctantly.
Then he hesitated, fumbling for words
with which to soften the blow it was
his duty to impart.

But words were unnecessary. The
officer’s manner expressed, more elo-
quently than anything he could have
said, the dreadful import of his visit.
Both women burst into tears.

“I Knew it,” the mother sobbed, “I
knew when she didn’t come home that
something terrible had happened.”

The father blanched, but his eyes
never wavered from those of the officer.
“Tell me,” he asked unsteadily, “is
she 2” He stopped, unable to utter
the word that was uppermost in his
mind.

As gently as he could the officer gave
the man, a toolmaker for the Caterpillar
Tractor Company, a brief account of
what had taken place. Hallmark ac-
cepted the terrible news bravely. “She
was only nineteen years old,” he said
heavily. “And she couldn’t believe evil
of anyone. Someone must have enticed
her into a car—and then this happened.”

Despite his burden of grief the father
signified his desire to do everything in
his power to aid the officers. Mildred,
he revealed, had graduated the previous
year from The Academy of Our Lady,
a Catholic high school, and for the past
four months had been employed as a
cashier at Bishop’s Cafeteria.

“Did she have a date last evening?”
Welty inquired.

The father shrugged. “She didn’t say
she had,” he replied. ‘‘But some friends
of ours told us over the telephone that
they saw her standing at the corner of
Main and Jefferson Streets last night at
eleven, with a young man.”

“And who are these friends?” Ford
asked.

“Mary Jane Drew, her mother and
small brother, William. They live at
7112 Morgan Street. Mary Jane went to

@ Mildred Hallmark boarded streetcar at this corner.

A little later,

when she waited to transfer to another, the Crime Cobra overtook her

high school with Mildred and they were
good friends. My other daughter called
them at two o’clock this morning.”

“Do you think they might have been
mistaken?”

“T don’t think so,” the father replied.
“They spoke to her and she answered.
They claim she was waiting for a street-
car’

“And this was at eleven o’clock?”

+O eg ??

“What hours did she work?”

“From seven to eleven in the morn-
ing, and then from four to nine in the
evening.”

“Was Mildred in the habit of dating
after working hours?”

Hallmark shook his head. “She was
not,” he said quickly. “She had rela-
tively few dates. She was devoted to
us and to her sister. The girls were
practically inseparable, and they al-
ways discussed their plans. Ruby says
that Mildred didn’t have a date for last
evening; so if she went out with any-

one it must have been an impromptu
affair,”

“Then wouldn’t she have called her
home?”

“She probably did,” the anguished
father replied. “But my wife and I took
a short drive, and Ruby was out on a
date.”

“What time did you return?”

“Around nine-thirty.”

“And when did you become alarmed?”

“When she failed to reach home by
eleven. We stayed up until twelve, and
then we went to bed. But none of us
could sleep. Finally, when she failed to
get in by two o’clock, Ruby called
several people and learned from Mary
Jane that she had seen Mildred waiting
for a trolley.”

“Did Mary Jane recognize her com-
panion?”

“She said he was a stranger.”

“Did you call Bishop’s this morning?”

The distraught father nodded. “Ruby
and I went there first thing. But no-

™ Former Chief Nussbaum points out to M.D.'s representative, spot
where the body of the girl who had been taken for a ride was found

MASTER DETECTIVE

“Cy
we

@ Th)
the co:

“That We
said huskil\
ability to m:
worked o)
even at the
employed

When que
the father a;
about Mild:

“First of ¢
caught a ca)
far would s}
her home?”

“About two

“And is tha?

“Nearly a!
“Sometimes s)
and have to »;

“In that Case
she have to y
“About six
“Has she %,
accosting her‘
“Never.”
“Tt’s pretty d

ocToser, 1942 ®

ttle later,
artook her

an impromptu
ave called her
the anguished

‘ife and I took
was out on a

eturn?”’

ae alarmed?”
ach home by
intil twelve, and
But none of us
nen she failed to
Ruby called
ned from Mary
Mildred waiting

ygnize her com-

stranger.” -
s this morning:
nodded. “Ruby

: thing. But no-

ntative, spot
42 Was found

MASTER DETECTIVE

body seems to know where she went.”

The parent described his daughter’s
actions on her last day alive. “She got
up at five-thirty yesterday morning in
order to go to early Mass,” he explained.

“She visited with Ruby while she was .

dressing, and then she hurried off to
catch her car. She never returned.”

While kindly neighbors did their best
to console the grief-stricken mother, the
father and Ruby viewed the pitiful re-
mains at the downtown mortuary. where
the body now rested. Pretty Ruby Hall-
mark wept softly, but the stricken
father was dry-eyed and seemingly
numbed as he gazed upon all that was
mortal of his once joyous and devoted
daughter, who had given him so much
happiness. At length he turned away
and said with quiet determination, ‘I’ll
never rest until I see her murderer in
the electric chair.”

Later, tears sprang into his eyes as he
viewed the remnants of his daughter’s
clothing, and particularly the half-
finished sweater found near her body.

and your house, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, between California Avenue and
our home there are several empty lots,”
the father admitted.

“Now, about her friends. Did she go
steadily with any boy in particular?”

“Why, yes, in a way. She went out
quite often with a young farm-hand
named Vincent Pilgrim. But he lives in
Paxton, Illinois, and he comes to town
only a couple of times a month.”

Hallmark identified the handwriting
on the envelope found in his daughter’s
purse as that of her farm-hand suitor.
“She has a lot of his letters in our
room,” Ruby volunteered.

“Any others?”

The father and sister shook their
heads. “There were no others,” the
former said.

Acting on the theory that the pretty
cafeteria cashier had been slain in an
automobile, Chief Nussbaum promptly
ordered details of the crime broadcast
over the police radio, advising all
officers to be on the lookout for a car

® This is the corner where Mildred waited for a transfer. A man in
the corner house saw a youth stop and pick up a girl in a white dress

“That was meant for her sister,” he
said huskily. “She was so proud of her
ability to make all her own clothes. She
worked on them every spare minute—
even at the cafeteria where she was
employed.”

When questioned by Chief Nussbaum,
the father and sister told all they knew
about Mildred’s habits and friends.

“First of all,” the Chief asked, “if she
caught a car at Main and Jefferson, how
far would she have to walk to reach
her home?”

“About two blocks.”

“And is that the one she always took?”

“Nearly always,” the father replied.
“Sometimes she would miss connections
and have to ride the Knoxville car.”

“In that case how many blocks would
she have to walk?”

“About six.”

“Has she ever complained of anyone
accosting her?”

“Never.”

“Tt’s pretty dark between the car line

OCTOBER, 1942

bearing bloodstains. Others were or-
dered to check garages, parking lots,
paint shops and filling stations where
cars were washed or painted.

Detectives Welty and Ford were dis-
patched to Bishop’s Cafeteria to ques-
tion fellow employees of the slain girl,
while two officers from the Detective
Bureau were dispatched to Paxton to
pick up young Pilgrim.

This done, Nussbaum returned father
and daughter to their home, where all
the slain girl’s personal correspondence
was turned over to him for examina-
tion.

The mystery surrounding the identity
of Mildred Hallmark’s companion on
Sunday evening was dispelled by pretty
Joan Antoinette, a co-worker of the
murder victim at Bishop’s Cafeteria.
She had not yet reported for work
earlier in the day when John Hallmark
and his daughter had made inquiry.

“IT saw Mildred leave about five
minutes to nine last night,” she re-

called. “And Johnny McGinnis was
waiting for her out in front.”

“Who is he?” Welty asked.

“A Bradley College student,” the girl
replied. “He goes to school daytimes and
works here as a bus-boy for his meals.”

“Are you certain they went out
together?”

“I’m positive,” the girl responded.
“Why, he was in for breakfast this
morning and he looked pale as a ghost
when we told him what had happened
to Mildred.”

“Did he offer any comment?”

“No, sir. He just looked at us and
then went on and finished his break-
fast.”

Fellow employees spoke well of Mc-
Ginnis. He lived, the officers learned,
in a rooming house on Main Street with
a fellow student named Clayton Mc-
Daniel. He did not own an automobile.

A visit to the rooming house failed to
yield either youth. Their landlady
stated that both were employed as part-
time workers for the Illinois Emergency
Relief office and that they were in their
room only during the early morning and
late evening. Before leaving the quar-
ters where the boys slept, the officers
removed a quantity of McGinnis’ cloth-
ing for later analysis by scientific
experts.

At Nussbaum’s direction a city-wide
search for the young student was
promptly launched.

It was close to noon when the Chief
received a call from the Coroner’s Office.
The voice of Dr. E. C. Burhans was terse
and to the point. “I find that Mildred
Hallmark’s death was caused by a
hemorrhage resulting from a broken
neck,” he reported.

“A broken neck!” the astonished
officer exclaimed.

“Yes. Apparently resulting from a
severe blow to the jaw. The break oc-
curred at the second cervical vertebra.
Moreover,” he added, “she was crim-
inally assaulted.”

“How about the cut on her head?”’

“Only a superficial wound. It prob-
ably happened when her head struck
the culvert.”

“When do you figure she died?”

“T’d say it was about two o’clock this
morning,” the Doctor replied.

Grimly, the Chief pictured the trust-
ing young girl’s last moments—the
lonely cemetery setting, her terrific but
unequal struggle to protect her life and
honor—then merciful oblivion.

Ten minutes after receiving the above
message, Nussbaum was startled by the
abrupt entrance of A. B. Copeland, a
local attorney, and a tall, slender, dark-
haired youth in his early twenties. The
latter was visibly agitated as he stood
first on one foot, and then the other.

“Chief,” the attorney announced, “this
young man wants to talk to you about
the Hallmark murder.”

“What is your name?” the official
asked.

“John McGinnis.”

Nussbaum scrutinized him with re-
newed interest. ‘Well, we’ve been
searching for you,” he told him frankly.

“I know,” the boy said as he slumped
into a chair and pulled out a pack of
cigarettes, ‘‘I suppose you already know

THOMPSON, Gerald, executed Illinois 1935

BY STEWART CHANDOR

dered his way through the
dense throng gathered on
Pienic Drive, in the heart of
Peoria’s Springdale Cemetery. It
was odd, the Acting Superinten-
dent of Police reflected, how so
large a crowd could collect on
such short notice, and in so remote
spot as the cemetery. ;
Detective Charles H. Welty, broad-shouldered,
vith alert, blue eyes, suddenly spied his superior
officer, “Over here, Chief,” he called. A moment
later, when Nussbaum joined him on the grassy
bank flanking the drive, he said, “It’s just like
the cemetery superintendent told us; she’s been
murdered.”

Nussbaum looked into the ditch. The victim,
he saw, was a slim girl in her late teens or early
twenties. She lay near a broken culvert, partially
on her right side and with arms and legs askew.
Indications were that her body had landed in that
fashion after being pushed out of an automobile.
A gray coat was draped over the upper portion
of her torso; aside from that she was nude. Even
her shoes and stockings had been removed. The
Chief noted that her legs and thighs were covered
with scratches and dirt. Her clothing, or what
was left of it, lay near by. Besides the coat there
was a tattered dance set and a brassiere with one
strap missing; a shredded, pink slip; a white sports
dress: a tan and white polka-dot tie; tan silk
stockings and white leather slippers. All had been
either torn, or cut.

Detective Glenn Ford, Welty’s partner, pointed
to the crimson-stained garments and remarked,
“They must have been removed after death.”

To the officers’ surprise, the girl’s only apparent
injury was a two-inch gash on her head.

“Strange,’’ Nussbaum observed thoughtfully.
“That would hardly have caused her death. And
she hasn’t been stabbed or shot.”

A few minutes later this seeming mystery was
dispelled by Deputy Coroner Glenn Gumm, who
arrived in the Coroner’s ambulance. Following a
brief examination, he said:

“Only an autopsy can tell for sure, but offhand
I would say she died from a brain or spinal injury,
She received a severe blow on the jaw.”

Meanwhile, Chief Nussbaum and Detectives
Welty and Ford gathered additional details from
C. P. Scott, Springdale Cemetery superintendent,

| aes NUSSBAUM = shoul-

and William McGarvey, elderly and graying team-
ster who had discovered the body.

The perspiring cemetery official wiped his
streaming face, for despite the early hour the day
was warm. “I’ve been afraid something like this
would happen,” he said. ‘Young people park in
here every night and it’s an ideal place for a
holdup or attack murder.”

Nussbaum nodded. “It would be difficult to find
a lonelier spot,” he agreed.

Scott revealed that he had driven by the body
earlier that morning without seeing it. ‘It’s hard
to see into the bottom of the ditch from an auto-
mobile,” he pointed out. “That broken culvert
helped to screen the body.”

McGarvey explained that his attention was
attracted to the scene when his team suddenly
bolted and very nearly got out of hand.

It had rained around three o’clock that morn-
ing and the slain girl’s clothing was still damp.
Accordingly, the officers deduced that she had been
placed in the ditch before that time. Her bare feet
dangled in several inches of dirty water.

Chief Nussbaum glanced at the rapidly growing
crowd and then said, “We’d better search this
ditch while we have the chance.”

Peoria, Illinois, police cars are equipped with
two-way radio, hence it required only a few
minutes to summon additional officers to help
control the crowd and join in the search.

Detective Welty probed the water-filled ditch
and discovered a large handbag. It contained a
black purse, an unfinished, white knitted sweater,
a ball of yarn and a pair of knitting needles.
Nussbaum emptied the soggy contents of the purse
on the grassy bank and examined them with
interest.

There was the usual assortment of feminine
indispensables: lipstick, powder, a small bottle
of nail polish and a nail file. There were several
bills and a quantity of small change, a newspaper
clipping and an envelope. The clipping had been
cut from a recent issue of the Peoria Journal-
Transcript. Ironically, it read:

Do you complain because life is so uncertain? You
want blueprints of the future? You want to be sure?
You want to be safe? Let me write something. Some-
thing I’ve decided, Something that is true for me....
It may not be true for you, but it satisfied me. It fills up
my life sufficiently. The only Sure Thing you can ever
find on this earth is an iEa, a belief, a faith. There is no
other certainty and you waste your time looking for it.
Put that in your heart and keep it there, Remember it,

MASTER DETECTIVE

NO As ale LAD:

OCTOBER,

RTE

I was out with Mildred last night.”

“T do,” the officer replied. “I suggest
you tell me the whole story, right from
the beginning.”

McGinnis was wearing a_ well-
pressed, gray, business suit. His face
was pale and drawn and it was evident
he was ill at ease. ‘“‘I’ll do my best,” he
said. “There isn’t an awful lot to tell,
but maybe it’ll help.”

“Begin with your departure from the
cafeteria,’ Nussbaum advised.

“Well, I finished work at Bishop’s
about seven-thirty. I had a date after
that with Clayton McDaniel, my room-
mate, so I hung around the place wait-
ing for him. When he didn’t show up
by eight-thirty I tried to get some of the
boys hanging around there to take ina
show with me. But they all had other}
plans, and then I happened to think that|
maybe Mildred might like to go.”

“How long had you known her?”

“Since last May.”

“And what did she say?”

“Well, she hesitated at first. But
finally she agreed and we left about five
minutes to nine.”

“Did she attempt to call her folks?”

“Why, yes. She tried twice; once be-
fore she changed her uniform and again
after she was dressed in her street
clothes. But nobody answered.”

“Where did you go after you left the
cafeteria?”

“We walked to the Apollo Theatre
and looked at the pictures out in front.
Then we decided to go to the Rialto
instead.”

“What picture was playing there?”

“‘Public Enemy.’ ”

“What time did you leave the the-
atre?”

“About eleven o’tlock. Then we
walked back to Main Street and Jeffer-
son Avenue.”

“Did you see anybody you knew?”

“Now”?

“Did Mildred?”

“Yes, She spoke to a former class-
mate: She was with her mother and
little brother.”

“Then what did you do?” Nussbaum
asked.

“We stood there talking and Mildred
missed the Country Club car that passes
on the courthouse side of the street,
across from where we stood. So we
walked up Main Street as far as Perry
Avenue and I put her on a Knoxville
car.”

‘“Didn’t you offer to see her home?”

The youth flushed. “I don’t have a
car, but I offered to go home with her.
She thanked me and said it wouldn’t be
necessary. You see,” he added, “it wasn’t
actually a date. Mildred went with me
only after I promised to let her pay her
own way. She was awfully independent.
She said she didn’t mind going home
alone, because she knew I lived on the
other side of town and that I had to
get up early to go to work.”

“Then,” the officer persisted, “the last
you saw of her was when she got on the
Knoxville car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I walked home and went to bed.”

“Did you meet anybody you knew?”

“No, sir.”

@ Mildred Hallmark accepted a ride from
the youth (below) whose soft nature turned
Fanavahiess once they were alone

“Did you: speak to your roommate

when you got to your room?”

“Yes, I did,” McGinnis replied, “‘but

he didn’t answer. He was asleep.”

Nussbaum ordered McGinnis de-
tained pending a further check on his
activities and a minute examination of
his clothing. %

Detectives examined with interest a
packet of letters found among the slain
girl’s effects, among them a recent one
that arrived in the morning’s mail. Most
of them had apparently been written by
Pilgrim and were like those any boy
might write to any girl in whom he was
deeply interested. However, in one of
them —only two weeks old— there
appeared this significant warning:
«and you’d better look out for that
fellow Cletus.” ©

“T wonder who Cletus is?” Nussbaum
commented.

Detective Ford glanced up. “We
talked to a fellow at Bishop’s by the
name of Cletus Delheimer,” he recalled.

“Then bring. him in,’ the Chief
ordered. Pay a ets

By now, newspaper extras were on
the streets and people everywhere gath-
ered on corners, front porches and in
restaurants discussing. the sensational
murder of the .auburn-haired beauty.
So many telephone calls. were received
that Nussbaum. was: obliged to assign

MASTER DETECTIVE

wade Dain

a specia
recel’y
Un
storie
The first ¢
lived
Heights, o;
Hallmark
“A neg
two-thirt
morning
wife,”’ he
the windg
and scream:
at the tim:
the Cal n\
Nussbaur
the Royal A
had played
days, reque
his employ:
hired while
asked to be
the troupe
bruises.
Still anoth:
a young w
Street. Imn
street car at
ten-thirty tj
ticed an
trolley, sh«
at Main St
motorist st
into his
after she re:
her into his :
“I screame
Tavern,”
Stuart toc

a An officer C
careful
where t

OCTOBER, 1942

I asked.
you had

‘Well, it
you see
furniture
there with
nud every-

ken back

nd. “But

you shot
“—

ere!
gorously.

then if
vere you

sn’t mad
him!”

changed
moment.
“do they
e county

ne back
{ meals
iat good,
pened I
boys up
Vas never

ith such
the non-
relaxed

t with one
another—
it. How
erately as-
ression of
cture.

to waive
udge, he

at your
“st versed
s of psy-
ny client

on facts
d a con-
yed both
for one

is law for
ture he is
sition; the
the slayer,
ver scores
ive shocks
oto guards

of his mentality. In spite of his infirmi-
ties, he had been able to wield a heavy
iron bar; to take human life efficiently;
to forge; to scheme; to cover up. The
instinct of self-preservation had been
functioning normally throughout flight,
incarceration, and trial. All the discrep-
ancies in his story pointed to a con-
sciousness of guilt.

After a brief deliberation, Judge
Fricke spoke: “The evidence in this
case is not, I think, sufficient to sustain
a theory of insanity. The defendant’s
disorder is wholly insufficient to indicate
mental disease. There is evidence of a
mental sliding down hill, but the state-
ments in which he contradicts himself

are due not to his condition, but to an
effort to cover up. He seems, like a
child caught in a forbidden act, to be
groping about for alibis to excuse his
conduct. His frequent protestations of
‘Honest, I didn’t,’ are parallel to the
‘Cross my heart’ of the child who knows
all the time he’s fibbing.

“While it has not been a well-formed
or definite plan, yet for a long time he
has held the idea that sometime he
would kill his wife. I do not believe
that death was inflicted by a single blow
as he claims. Physical evidence to-the
contrary disputes it. I do not feel, how-
ever, that he merits the death penalty.
His physical condition and somewhat

subnormal mental state are against it.”

Turning to the prisoner, who sat
motionless, staring at the floor with the
expression of one who neither sees nor
hears what is going on about him, Judge
Fricke pronounced the words that were
to close the books on one of the most
atrocious murders Southern California
has known for years and upon a double
murderer for whose unwarranted kill-
ings no half-way logical motive could be
found:

“It is the judgment of this court for
the crime of murder in the first degree,
that you, John Happel, be sentenced to
San Quentin penitentiary for the term
of your natural life.”

The Sinister Secret of Mississippi’s Slain Planter

The next two days passed unevent-
fully. I learned that the murdered
planter had other living relatives that I
had known nothing about, but all efforts
to trace the mysterious men and women
who had driven off with him were fruit-
less. None of McBride’s Memphis ac-
quaintances had seen him on Tuesday,
September 25, the day of his disap-
pearance. Apparently he had simply
driven away with unidentified persons,
to vanish completely until his body was
found beside the highway.

The discovery that McBride had nu-
merous other living relatives set me
thinking along new lines. I had known
the murdered man for eight or ten years
but had never heard of other relatives
besides his wife and son. But since his
death I had found that he had several
half brothers and sisters and a son and
daughter by a former marriage. The
thought struck me: If aman could keep
sO many secrets about himself, he might
keep other secrets, too. . Was there
something behind his death of which we
had no inkling? I remembered the

[Continued from page 29]

quiet, good-natured man who had lived
on the Horn Lake plantation and won-
dered where and how he had made such
an implacable enemy.

On Sunday, the day that J. H.
McBride was buried in the little Bethle-
hem cemetery near Horn Lake, Sheriff
Howard Curlin of Crittenden county,
Ark., in which West Memphis is located,
came to Hernando. Together, we identi-
fied the blanket and quilt which had been
found a mile from the death scene. A
negro servant from the Horn Lake plan-
tation said that the blanket belonged to
the dead man, Another negress who had
worked for the victim and the Frank
McBrides at West Memphis said that
she had seen both the blanket and the
quilt there.

Another investigation at West Mem-
phis was indicated; but before we took
any steps in that direction, I wanted to
know a little more about Frank McBride.
I remembered that he had said that he
had once worked in Clarksdale, Miss.
Hoping to get some information about
his past life which might throw some

light on the mystery, I put in a cal! for
Sheriff L. A. Ross at Clarksdale.

Deputy Sheriff S. C. Cartledge an-
swered the phone. What he told me put
an entirely different complexion upon the
case. For Frank McBride, he revealed.
had a criminal record!

As I turned from the phone, my brain
was whirling with new theories sug-
gested by Cartledge’s information. And
then I suddenly remembered a peculiar
thing which I had hitherto overlooked.
On the night that Frank McBride had
come to Walls he had readily identified
the body. Yet he had not entered the
building! He had made his identification
from a distance, standing in the door-
way, while I, who had known the dead
man for a number of years, had diffi-
culty in recognizing him even after a
close scrutiny!

The next morning, Tuesday, October
2, I telephoned Deputy Sheriff Charlie
L. Goad of Crittenden county, who lives
at Crawfordsville, ten miles from West
Memphis.

“Can you meet me in West Memphis

the Year’s Most

and physicians are examining him, and
the final picture was snapped as he was
being unstrapped. It has not been the
policy of this magazine to present grue-
some and shocking photos. But this
unusual series is such a telling argument
against crime that it is printed here as

PLDT

visual proof that crime does not and can-
not pay! It illustrates that fact so force-
fully—a fact that is pointed out month
after month by this magazine until
StartLtinc Detective ApvENTURES has
been praised by countless high police
officials, governors and government offi-

Photos Copyright by International News Photos, Inc.

cials for its stand against crime—that it
is a more powerful anti-crime sermon than
thousands of words of type could hope to
be! Here, then, is a grim warning to
America’s youth that the Law cannot be
beaten—that society exacts fearful pay-
ment from transgressors young or old.

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screamed. “Save me from that mobt
did itt 7 killed her”

The fatal words of confession came
not a moment too soon. Chief Nuss-
baum had just decided to remove the
Prisoner without delay and run no fur-
ther risk of a lynching. Now he could
do so without giving Thompson an op-
portunity to regain his aplomb. A con-
fession had been obtained, and Nuss-
baum was positive it was true!

Handcuffs were Snapped over Thomp-
son’s wrists, A speedy prowl car was
waiting at a rear door. Chief Nussbaum
went there and looked out. There were a
few members of the mob clustered there;
not enough to seize the Prisoner, per-
haps, but they might shout and summon
others from the front of the building,

Nussbaum decided on aruse. A plain-
clothes officer of about Thompson’s build
was selected. Other officers made a
cordon about him, rushed out the rear
door, jumped into the car and roared
away.

A howl of protest came from the mob.
“They’ve taken him away!” a man
shouted. Screams of disapproval arose.

Chief Nussbaum opened the front door
and addressed the crowd. “Thompson
has confessed and will be punished, but
the law must take its course,” he said.

The ruse was Successful. The mob
melted away. hompson was still in the
building, but now he was safe.

Still trembling from his narrow escape,

hompson began dictating a full state.
ment. Gone was his terror and in its
place an apparent desire to tell all the
truth and be done. with it.

“T killed her, but I didn’t mean to,” he
said. Then he made this astounding
Statement in defense of the repugnant
crime:

“She bit my finger and I got mad. I’m
not used to being treated that way.”

Pretty little Mildred was his eighty-
sixth victim, Thompson said. He spied
her when she alighted from the street

THANK You For MEntroninc STARTLING

car. No, he had never seen her before,
but this time he decided to violate his
rule of always knowing his victims and

whether they-could be likely to prosecute,

Details Crime

"I ASKED her if she wanted a ride,

and she got into my car willingly
enough,” he said, and repeated the state-
ment in face of the testimony from John
P. Mangan, an apartment building man-
ager who saw him drag the girl into the
machine,

“We drove along for a block or so and
she said something about the weather.
It looked like rain, you know.

“Then we came to the cemetery gates
and I turned in. I told her it was a
short-cut, but she knew better and began
yelling. I Stopped the car at the side
of the road and grabbed her.”

Mildred fought valiantly to protect
her honor, Thompson said, and he began
to strangle her. It was then that she bit
his finger and scratched his face,

“I got angry and hit her a crack on
the jaw,” he continued. “She went out
like a light and I hauled her into the rear
seat. I attacked her twice.

“Pretty soon I realized she wasn’t
breathing. I tried to listen to her heart,
but my own heart was beating so hard
that I couldn’t have heard if it was.

“T got Pretty scared and began think-
ing about what [I should do with her.
First I thought about throwing her in
the Peoria river, but that was three miles
away and I knew a police prowl car
might stop me,”

Thompson sat there for an hour with
the dead girl, he estimated, and finally:
became fearful that the cemetery watch-
man might investigate,

“T hauled the body into the ditch and
left it there,” he said, “and threw her
clothes out along the road. Then I
went to the water trough and washed off
the blood that was coming out of the

“The ball and chain? Oh, that’s to keep someone from Stealing the ball—there’s 50
: many thieves around here!”

DETECTIVE ADVENTURES

Moore told of Happel’s attempt to
hx some curtain rods; of how he had
been too weak to turn the screws; of
how, later, the same weakness was ap-
pore when he tried to repair a door
bell.

Under cross-examination both Moore
and his wife admitted that despite Hap-
pel’s complaints of nagging, ugly names,
and broom beatings, they had never seen
or heard any such abuses though the
six little houses stand but a. few feet
apart.

Out of regular order, I called the three
alienists appointed by the state: Dr.
Paul Bowers, widely known psychia-
trist; Dr. Benjamin Black, physician at-
tached to the Los Angeles county jail;
and Dr. Edwin Wayte, Superintendent
of the State Hospital for the Insane at
Norwalk, Calif.

In all essentials they were in agree-
ment. They pronounced Happel’s case
to be one of general and cerebral sclero-
sis. There was present some premature
senility, ataxia, and slurring of the
speech. While undergoing a gradual
mental and physical decline, they said
there was no evidence of organic brain
disease and at the time of the murder he
knew right from wrong.

Up to the time the defendant took
the stand in his own defense, he had
maintained an attitude of wooden in-
difference; but as he began to talk, life
seemed to pour into him. He was alert
now, and from the many points at vari-
ance with his original story, consciously
on guard.

“Tf my wife hadn’t nagged me all the
time, this wouldn’t have happened. She
starved me, too. Lots of times she
wouldn't give me nothing but the skin
of a cooked potato, or a piece of onion.
She said if I wouldn’t work she wasn’t
going to feed me. She made me stay out
in the shed. She was ashamed of the
way I looked and the way I kept stag-
gering around.”

“Who bought the groceries, John?”
I asked.

“T did. Or if she went to the store,
I gave her the money.”

The inconsistency of this statement

seemed not to occur to him—a man with
money in his pockets “starving for food.”

“Where did you keep this money you
talk about?”

“I hid it in the attic of the shack.”
Seeing his mistake, he hurried to explain.
“IT had to. You see, I didn’t dare let her
know about it or she’d drink it all up.
She drank something awful—a bottle of
wine, several glasses of whisky and gin
a day and beer besides. Half the time
she didn’t get up till noon,”

But the neighborhood grocer testified
that Mrs. Happel never bought beer
oftener than twice a week and only a
bottle or two at a time. Furthermore,
no one could be produced who had ever
seen her intoxicated.

Evidence Of Forgery

HEN I confronted Happel with

the $491 withdrawal check, by
which he had added forgery to his
crimes, his pale face flushed but he shook
his head i in denial. “She signed it first,
I tell you. I just endorsed it on the
back. We were going to buy a chicken
ranch.”

Police handwriting expert Carstensen,
however, stated that the “Rose Happel’”
on the check, the “John Happel” on the
reverse side and the signature attached
to the defendant’s two confessions were
all written by the same person.

Happel now altered his account of
what happened on the morning of the
murder: “I was putting on my tie in
front of the bathroom mirror. She
pulled the rug from under my feet and
made me fall so that I struck my head
where I got hurt before. After that I
didn’t know what I was doing. I guess
it was then that I got the pipe and hit
her,”

In retelling his experience at the St.
James ranch, he constantly referred to
his wife as if she were still alive. “You
see,” he would say, “I intended to take
possession and then send for her.”

“But you knew she was dead,” I said.

“No, honest, I forgot! I kept think-
ing she was in Detroit visiting her
daughter.”

“What became of the $491?” I asked.
‘When the officer arrested you, you had
only $40.00.”

His reply was astounding. “Well, it
took a lot for the trip, and then you see
I gave Mr. Meyer $200 to buy furniture
for the ranch house. I stayed there with
him for three days, ate there and every-
thing.”

Attorney Visel was visibly taken back
by his client’s vagaries of mind. “But
Fogg? he protested, “you said you shot
Meyer the day you got there!”

me ewe shook his head vigorously.
“No, I stayed three days.”

“Well, why did you kill him then if
you were friendly with him? Were you
mad at him about something?”

“T don’t know why. I wasn’t mad
at him about nothing. I liked him!”

Nonplussed, Visel tactfully changed
his line of questioning for the moment.
“By the way,” he asked kindly, ‘do they
treat you all right up here in the county
jail?”

“Oh, I should say so!” he came back
with animation. ‘Fine! Good meals,
too. My! if she’d treated me that good,
this wouldn’t never have happened. I
was just saying to some of the boys up
there the other day, ‘Home was never
like this!’ ”

This response was uttered with such
artless enthusiasm that even the non-
committal features of the judge relaxed
in a momentary smile.

Naive, simple as a child, yet with one
lie continually contradicting another—
that was John Happel throughout. How
much of his attitude was deliberately as-
sumed to carry out the impression of
insanity is a matter for conjecture.

Defense attorney Visel chose to waive
argument. Addressing the judge, he
said: “Because I realize that your
Honor is the best read and best versed
judge in the county in matters of psy-
chiatry, I submit the life of my client
into your hands.”

My argument was based upon facts
that in my opinion fully justified a con-
viction. John Happel had displayed both
reason and discretion, at least, for one

Gruesome?

Yes, but These Exclusive Photos Present

FEW short months ago, Gerald

Thompson, Peoria mechanic, was
tracked down as the attack slayer of
pretty Mildred Hallmark (detailed in
October and November Srartiync DE-
TECTIVE ADVENTURES). Found guilty and
sentenced to die in the electric chair,

Thompson paid his debt to society at
Joliet prison on October 15. And from
that grim execution chamber came this
graphic and exclusive series of actual
photographs, made by an enterprising
cameraman. From left to right they
depict the stages of Thompson’s death,

the death prescribed by Illinois law for
murderers. In the first picture he is
shown securely strapped in position; the
next three frames depict how the slayer,
who boasted of his conquests over scores
of women, appeared as successive shocks
were applied. In the fifth photo guards

of his 1
ties, he
iron bar
to forge
instinct
function
incarcer
ancies
sciousne
After
icke

ase 1°<

The

Th
Pat
fully
planter
had k:
to tra
who
'
I¢ss,
quaint
oeptern
pearar
driver
to var
found

The
merou
thinkir
the mu
but |
beside
deat!

thoug!

and

the fi
being
polic

some
unust
again

NEVER TOOK A |

her before, scratches on my face. I tore off part The trial opened July 22, 1935, and in
violate his of my shirt to wipe away the blood and four days a jury of tradesmen and farm-
ictims and bandage my finger.” ers was selected to decide Gerald’s fate.
) prosecute, The murder done, young Thompson Then began the most sensational mur-
drove home, went to bed and to sleep. der trial of years in Central Illinois.
He didn’t know the girl’s name until he Crowds packed the court and thousands
read it next day in the afternoon papers. milled outside around the historic granite .
ed a ride, Incidentally, he remained away from courthouse, avidly awaiting each bit of HER
- willingly work that day because the scratches on news from the trial. ;
“ the state- his face might arouse comment. Prosecutor Champion based his case —yet Bob is the env
from John Gerald signed the confession before almost entirely on Thompson’s own con- of his muste-loving .
ding man- witnesses. Because of danger that the fession, the testimony of authorities who friends
rl into the mob might reassemble, he was rushed to obtained it and stories of friends and ‘ein:' ttm. con tenre,. to. pee
another city and lodged in’ jail, his relatives of the slain girl. The confession any instrument this amazing:

“or so and

whereabouts kept a secret. Ben Gray,
the youth who looked so much like

Thompson pleaded in asking a further

was introduced, but names of other
women victims that Thompson admitted

Then he sat down to write a letter to

weather.
: Thomps« ©. received a full police apology despoiling were kept secret. Yet almost before you know
tery gates and, of co “se, the unfortunate alcoholic Defense Attorney Thurman in turn | 4,300 st ple tev ations
it was a was freed .* suspicion. It was estab- fought to prove that the confession had roll in — see how popular
ind began lished later \ at his incoherent murder been obtained by threats and violence | Jhly'a few cents « day
the side confession had been a fantasy of his dis- after Gerald had been held without food New Easy Method
— —< 1 h h Of Te ae for Rehie <4 f h f You don’t have to be ‘‘tal: ™
o prot n a hiding place in his home, inci- The state brought fort statements o ented.” You can’t be too
he-began dentally, police found photographs that Chief Nussbaum and others to refute young, 4 Se: eg nertonn LEAN Nore
‘at she bit Thompson had taken of women after that defense move, and Attorney Thur- cone fee Piano, Violin,
ce: attacking them. man then launched an insanity defense. are told what to do — then i. ae
crack on Safe from the mob, Thompson told “The boy’s grandparents told of his ee eas ic pete a renee, Bane,
went out everyone who would listen of his ex- birth when his mother was only fourteen self and hear it. in a ‘short Plano Accordion,
othe rear ploits. He had taken a score of women years old, of desertion by his father and Hime younds, the life of every Oat
to the cemetery to attack them, Gerald of being struck on the head with a brick party.
1© Wasn't said, selecting it frequently in rainy when a child. Physicians and fellow DEMONSTRATION LESSON FREE!
her keaxt saeether because the tires of his aato- workers of Thompsos declared him in- | Write tote, for Free Demonstr sion rete and. proot thet
so hard mobile would Ieave no marks on the SHEET ci me on Of 8% wore | HER earn at gala art ce mn
was. cinder roads. e told me,” one of the fellow work Veli Brunswick Bldg., New York City, N. Y. ‘
an think “J wouldn't have confessed, either,” he ¢FS testified, “that he intended to pick —————— ry
with her said, “but they showed me the bloody UP fifty-two women this year so he could PANTS MATCHED
ig her in and wees sete - the Pon ma girl id he'd had a new one every week in the pl hati hn Schaee
; and that sort of broke me down. ear. is
ee The case went to the jury on the after- TO ANY SUIT
Rushed To Trial noon of July 30, and the twelve men took oLp sults
: less than four hours to reach a verdict— to your measure.
with ROUGHT back to Peoria, Thomp- guilty of murder. ject frommecnnmatch al; BYU
ally son was arraigned on Tuesday, There was no recommendation for oe beaesmege “api
tch- June 25, on a charge of murder. The mercy, so the verdict automatically Biircitéago, wt. :
fitch grand jury already had indicted him. meant a sentence of death in the electric LEG sU FFERERS
ditch and Judge Henry J. Ingram set the trial for chair under Illinois laws.
ig ly: July’ 22, and’ State’s Attorney E. V. _ “That's what I figured I'd get,” continue to euttetTelief, Write
“we i Champion went forward with plans to Thompson commented, glumly. “Of for New Booklet AT LIEPE
eur ha age to the electric chair. » — COUTSE, I didn’t get a decent break in the var Veine Varicose
ive me a break, your honor,” trial. Pen eg eetned works while you
Praised and endorsed by gg F
men Feb

delay before trial.

The judge replied, “You will be given
ever right entitled to you by the law.”

Thompson then was led back to a cell
to cower in terror of mob violence.
Crowds formed outside the jail for two
days thereafter, but authorities man-
aged to dissuade angry ‘citizens from
taking the law into their own hands.

As Thompson was without funds, Cir-
cuit Judge Joseph E. Dailey appointed
Ren Thurman, youthful but brilliant
lawyer, to defend him.

his grandparents, urging them to forget
that he had ever lived and insisting that
he “didn’t mean to kill the girl—it was
just an accident.”

Denied a new trial and sentenced to die
in the chair at Joliet on October 15,
Thompson apparently was resigned to
accept death. He asked his jailers for
a bible to read.

Un fairness to innocent persons, the names Mrs-
Fred. G. Barry, Ben Gray and Jane Barton, used
in this story, are not actual but fictitions.—The
Editor.)

house and his wife told me the laws had

him but she didn’t know where. I spent every other friend or relative Clyde and EVN WURAL §} BY, Mail Clerk ‘Beassntrese

three days trying to find out for her Bonnie had on charges of harboring TO START pe LUA g boo gad Sionegresher

and then Mildred’s brother came to me them. More than a dozen of us were Customs Inspector U.8. Border Patrol

and said a description of me and my car convicted. I got four months. ae eer Watghman
‘eat ins)

had ‘been broadcast. He had come to
my room. I went to sleep and when I

government’ indicted me and almost

Before this, Ray had been recaptured
near Sherman, Texas, returned to

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TuHanxk You For MENTIONING STARTLING DerectivE ADVENTURES

Matron
Special Investigator ( ) Secret Service Opr.
Typist File Clerk

Barry, “we were probably asleep while it
was being done.”

“There’s only one employee of the hotel
we have been unable to find,” reported
Sergeant James Sullivan. “The others
seem to be in the clear. Arthur Pickney,
the night elevator boy, a negro, is the one
missing. He lives in a hotel at 216 East
Thirty-first Street. I called there but he
hasn’t been home, though he finished work
ten hours ago.” ;

“Broadcast a wanted message for him,”
ordered Erlanson, ings

ROM the murder room, Sergeant Dono-

hue yelled for Lieutenant Erlanson.

“Look at this,” he said, pointing to the
window sill. “There’s the print of a shoe
in the dust—a tennis shoe, I’m sure.”

“Bon’s shoe,” laughed Erlanson. “He
came through that window to open the
door. How about the fingerprints? Your
racket isn’t shoe prints.” 4

“There are hundreds of prints around,”
said Donohue. “If we ran them all down,
we'd find people who’ left them when they
visited the 1933 World's Fair—if not some
who were here for the ’93 exposition !”

“Get them all,” ordered Erlanson, crisp-
ly, “if it takes a month.”

“The best prints,” said Donohue, .“seem
to be on the head of the bed, on the glossy
white leather pocketbook ‘and on the upper
rim of the water pitcher.”

Erlanson bent over and made a careful,

examination of the water container.

“It’s not blood-stained,” he said, “but
even so it could have been the death weap-
on. The bottom edges would inflict . ugly
wounds. Her hair would prevent the Pitch-
cr from becoming stained with blood.”

Thoughtfully, Erlanson looked over the
fire escape.

“Since the key was on the inside of the
door,” said a detective at the lieutenant’s
elbow, “the killer must have entered the
room from the fire escape.”

Erlanson shook his head, saying:

“You overlook an important possibility. -

Someone whom the woman knew may have
been admitted through the door, killed her,
then locked the door and, to throw us off
the trail, left by way of the window.”

“An inside job you mean.”

ives”

Meanwhile, Trammell sat in the office of
Captain George O’Connor at the Central
Station and told of his short period of
happiness with the woman he had found

_ brutally murdered. -

“I was a concessionaire at the Tennessee
Valley Authority project at Knoxville,” he
related, his face drawn in grief, “when I
met Mary at a dance. ~ ;

“I fell in love with her at first sight.
She returned my affections. It was a
whirlwind courtship—just about a month—
and we married a year and a half ago.

“Soon after our marriage, hard luck

came along. I lost my job and could not -

find another in Knoxville. I went to Geor-
gia, to Ohio and finally to Chicago before
finding employment. Mary remained with
relatives in the south,

“I got the job here four months ago and
on July 24th, Mary joined me. We were
very happy, though she didn’t have a friend
in the city. The last I saw of her was at
nine o'clock yesterday morning when I
left for Michigan on the train.”

He dropped his head with a sigh.

“Our stay here,” he continued, “was

"AMERICAN DETECTIVE _

really our honeymoon, for we had not

. spent much time together until she came to

Chicago:” :

With a sad shake of his head, he went

on:
“I often warned her of the dangers of

the big city, especially after I read of those

two other women murdered in their hotel -

»—

rooms. ‘
He referred to the slayings of Mrs:
Lillian Guild, 59-year-old widow, slain
in her room at the Y. W.uC. A. Hotel, May
9th, 1936, and that of Mrs. Florence
Thompson Castle, pretty night club but-
\terfly, killed in her room at the Devonshire
Hotel, 19 East Ohio Street, June 29th”
The latter’s child, James ‘Thompson, 7
years old, witnessed the crime as he lay at

his mother’s side in bed. Still uncaptured, -

the killer was a “black man,” according
‘to the boy. Thomas Starr, 31 years old,
Negro rag-picker, confessed to the Guild
murder and was sentenced to, 199 years
imprisonment. :

“I have often been: asked,” said Tram-
mell, “why we lived in such an unsavory
neighborhood. The answer is that we were
trying to save money so I could get on my
feet again. I only make $80 a month with
the railroad, working but two weeks out of
four.” :

“There was no money in the room. Did
she have much?” asked a detective. (ae

“She'd have but little,’ answered the hus-
band. “I didn’t leave much with her.”

Trammell was allowed to depart “and
then the heads of the investigation forces
gathered for a conference to map out their
next moves,

Pickney was taken into\ custody later
that day by policemen waiting at his hotel.
He was brought before the ‘police execu-
tives. Obviously very’ much frightened,
he protested against his being detained.

“T got through work,” he said, “at seven
o’clock this morning and, after killing some
time aroynd the neighborhood, went: to a

burlesque show. I stayed there 'till noon. -

Then I went to Grant’ Park, where I
watched some baseball games. From there
I went home and the cops got. me.”

Eyes rolling, he continued earnestly :

“TH shoot a little‘craps, or drop a few
skins on the ponies, policemen, but—sirs—
“murder just ain’t in my repertoire.”

Pickney was detained for further ques-
tioning.

“Maybe he can think of something help-
ful when he cools off,” said Captain Gil-
bert.

RUISING through the crowded loop

district at about this time, Detectives
John Lindstrom and John McMahon
pulled up to the curb when a young and
attractive woman rushed from the Lor-
raine Hotel, 411 South Wabash Avenue,
and hailed them.

“I just read about the murder,” she cried,
her breath coming in gasps. “Take me to
the man in charge of the case. -I have
something important to tell him.”

Siren screaming for a clear road, the de-
tectives rushed her to. headquarters. She
identified herself as Miss Frances Veiger,
28-year-old switchboard operator -and: a
guest at the Lorraine Hotel. Excitedly,
she told police executives: < ‘

“A man, probably the same one who
killed Mrs. Trammell, tried to get into

"my room before dawn Thursday morning, —

- “but the impossible has been done.”

_—

I didn’t report it. I was afraid of pub-

- licity. But now that murder has been

done, I feel it my duty to notify you,”

Satisfaction in his tones, Lieutenant Er-
lanson urged her to tell more.

“I was living in Room 307 at the Lor-
raine,” she said. “The room opened on a.
fire escape. I was ‘asleep. It was about
two in the morning. A noise at the window
awakened me.

“I sat up in bed. I saw the curtains

- Slowly parted by someone outside. Then

a hideous-appearing negro leered in at me.
I screamed again and again and rushed out
of the room for aid.

“But when I returned, he was gone. Be-
hind him, on the window sill, he left a
crowbar,” she continued, adding with a
shudder, “I suppose he intended to crush
my skull with it.” _

“What did he look like?” asked Lieu-
tenant Colman.

“Thick lips, close-cropped hair and a
flat nose.” ‘

Detectives brought the crowbar to the

‘station.. It was the type usually used by

building wreckers.
“And that’s the kind of work a lot of
the hoboes do between sprees,” said Cap-

tain Gilbert.

“Yes,” answered Erlanson, “and a man
in that dangerous: work would be spry,
athletic—the type who could negotiate the
difficult entrance by way of the fire escape
and elevated structure.”

“But,” said Lieutenant Colman, mourn:
fully, “it would be almost impossible to ruu
down the owner.”

“I agree with you,” snapped Erlanson,

a
- DOZEN policemen were at once as-
y signed to attempt to trace the crow-

“Go to wrecking companies,” com-
mandéd Erlanson, “and see whether any

are missing. Visit hardware stores near :

the State Hotel. One: might have sold it.
Try to trace it. through the factories that
make such -tools,” ar

Captain Gilbert took slow puffs. on his
cigar. He was mulling over the angles of
the case. Finally, he said: ;

“Miss Veiger’s story gives me an idea.
She didn’t want to report the matter be-
cause she disliked getting publicity. There
may be others who had - similar experi-_
ences and didn’t report them for the same
reason, or because they didn’t want to be

- bothered. We'll have men visit every hotel

in the loop and make inquiries,”

“A good idea,” said Colman, “and since
it seems likely that a colored man might
be the killer, I’m going to order. a round-
up of negro criminals.” '

Detective bureau squads, selected be-
cause of their knowledge of the ways ot
colored law-breakers, were sent into
Bronzeville, the negro quarter on the South
Side, to pick up suspects.

Through the black-and-tan cabarets, the
gin mills, gambling hells and other re-
sorts of the section, the policemen swept,
taking fifty suspects into custody.

Lieutenant Erlanson viewed the pris-
oners as they roared their anger in ‘the
cell room at police headquarters.

“Fingerprint all of them,” he ordered,
“and see whether any of them has ever
been arrested for a sex offense.”

Working on another line of investiga-

tion, detect
dozen down
by fire esca
the Peepin;
favorable pi
ported the i
Checking
one that \
clue to the j
Jer. And, s
mation came
in which Mr
Questione:
declared :
“Gosh, I }
excitement o
ago—on a
tried to. get
came up the

“Swell!”
guest?”
“Swell? T

snorted Bon,
guest for you

In a few n
who occupiec
that in whict
slain, was tell
Visit.

“T was asle
to see a hug
window sill.
those of aw

‘I yelled f{:
He scramblex
down the fire
the darkness

“What did

“He was y
Schumacher.
He had a fla
hat.. He had
coat. He rem
outsides of the

. scription I ca

Disappointm
lice officer's f:
“But there a
answer to—”’
“Wait ain
macher, with
real clue. I
the time, but
saved it—for ;
He opened
small, black n.
Handing it t
“My. unpleas
hurry rushing
this fell out o:

.VIDLY, +
clue. It «
telephone numb
with the names
“Fine,” cried
along with me
Rushing to
with, elation th.
Carefully, the «
book. A iaund
wrapped in tiss
tween the page:
Summoning
Erlanson handec
ing:
“This was is
Laundry Comp:

‘nue. See what

Colman caref;

‘stains on the r:

“These look |

it. I was afraid of pub-
»w that murder has been
my duty to notify you.” ~
in his tones, Lieutenant Er-
er to tell more.
z in Room 307 at the Lor-
4. “The room opened on a.
was asleep. It was about
ling. A noise at the window

1 bed. I saw the curtains
by someone outside. Then
aring negro leered in at me.
in and again and rushed out
r aid.

returned, he was gone. Be-
the window sill, he left a
continued, adding with a
ppose he intended to crush
it.”

ne look like?” asked Lieu-

close-cropped hair and a

rought the crowbar to the
s the type usually used by
ers.

the kind- of work a lot of
between sprees,” said Cap-

ered Erlanson, ‘and a man
rous work would be spry,
spe who could negotiate the
ce by way of the fire escape
‘ructure.”

Lieutenant Colman, mourn:
| be almost impossible to ru
oT.

th you,” snapped Erlanson,
ssible has been done.”

e
policemen were at once as-

attempt to trace the crow-

recking companies,” comi-
son, “and see whether any
Visit hardware stores near
el. One might have sold it.
t through the factories that
iis.”

bert took slow puffs. on his
3 mulling ig the angles of
ly, he said:

er’s story gives me an idea.
nt to report the matter be-
ked getting publicity. There

‘*s who had similar experi-_

7t report them for the same
cause they didn’t want to be
‘ll have men visit every hotel
id make inquiries.”

ea,” said Colman, “and since
y that a colored man might
I’m going to order. a round-
criminals.” '

uureau squads, selected be-
- knowledge of the ways of
breakers, were sent into
1e negro quarter on the South
up suspects.

e black-and-tan cabarets, the
mbling hells and other re-
section, the policemen swept,
ispects into custody.
Erlanson viewed the pris-
+ roared their anger in the
wlice headquarters.

it all of them,” he ordered,
ether any of them has ever
for a sex offense.” —

n another line of investiga-

it em

tion, detectives learned that more than a
dozen downtown hotels had been troubled
by fire escape prowlers, most of them of
the Peeping Tom variety. Disliking yin-
favorable publicity, the hotels had not re-
ported the incidents.

Checking the hotels, police found only
one that was able to give a_ helpful
clue to the identity of the nocturnal. prow-
ler. And, surprisingly enough, the infor-
mation came from Clerk Bon of the hotel
in which Mrs. Trammell had been slain!

Questioned ‘by Lieutenant Colmaft, Bon
declared :

“Gosh, I had clean forgotten this in the
excitement of the murder. Just two weeks
ago—on a Saturday night, too—a negro
tried to.get into the room of a guest. He
came up the fire escape.”

“Swell!” cried Colman. “Who was the

guest?”

“Swell? There’s nothing swell about it!”
snorted Bon, frowning. “But I’ll get the
guest for you.”

In a few minutes, William Schumacher,
who occupied Room 158, directly below
that in which the young matron had been
slain, was telling the story of the prowler’s
visit.

“I was asleep,” he said, “and awakened
to see a huge negro creeping across the
window sill. His eyes were glaring like
those of a wild animal.

‘I yelled for help and started for him.
He scrambled back over the sill, rushed
down the fire escape and disappeared in
the darkness of the alley.’

“What did he look like?”

“He was young and lively,” answered
Schumacher. “His hair was cut short.
He hada flattened-out nose. Wore no
hat. He had light trousers and a dark
coat. He reminded me of a big ape. And
outsidesof that, there isn’t any more de-
scription I can give you.”

Disappointment flashed across the po-
lice officer’s face. He said:

“But there are thousands of negroes who
answer to—’

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Schu-
macher, with a pleased smile, “I have a
real clue. I didn’t think much of it at
the time, but for some reason or other I
saved it—for a souvenir or something.”

He opened a drawer and took out a
small, black note-book.

Handing it to the lieutenant, he said:

“My. unpleasant visitor was in such a
hurry rushing down the fire escape that
this fell out of his pocket.”

VIDLY, the detective examined the
clue. It contained a list of thirteen
telephone numbers and a dozen pages filled
with the names of race horses.
“Fine,” cried Colman. “I'll tgke this
along with me.” .
Rushing to ‘the station, he announced
with elation the finding of the new clue.
Carefully, the officials examined the note-
book. A laundry slip and a razor blade,
wrapped in tissue paper, were found be-
tween the pages.
Summoning Sergeant James Frawley,

Erlanson handed him the laundry slip, say- °

ing: or

“This was issued by the South Side

Laundry Company at 2820 Wabash Ave-
nue. See what you can learn out there.”
Colman carefully examined some. small
stains on the razor. blade.
“These look like blood stains,” he said,

“AMERICAN DETECTIVE

“and here are a few small hairs.”

“Probably used in the negro criminals’
favorite indoor sport—excavating the jug-
ular vein of people he doesn’t like,” said
Gilbert.. “Send it to the. laboratory for
examination.”

A detective laid a list of fifteen names
and addresses before Erlanson, explain-
ing : if
‘Lieutenant, these are the people whose
phone numbers were in the note-book.”

The police executive studied the report.

“All these people are in the colored sec-
tion,” he said “We'll have squads visit
every one of them.”

Assigned to this line of thieeltigation,
Sergeant Martin McGuire telephoned the
station a half hour later. He reported a
development that had not been foreseen.

“All the people on the list,” he said,
“live in poverty-stricken sections and many
of their neighbors who have no telephones
use the ones we're investigating.”

Lieutenant Erlanson moaned aloud when
he heard this and said:

“And. instead of fifteen persons issing
the Phones, there’s fifteen times fifteen.
Why can’t everyone have. their own
phones? But, Marty, we'll have to quiz
everyone who. has access to them.” -

Frawley telephoned from the “laundry,
reporting :

“A negro, known here only as Craig,
left the bundle containing dirty shirts and
a pair of pants about a week ago. Often
he doesn’t call for his laundry for: ten
days or two weeks. And he answers to

the description of the prowler at the Lor-

raine: Hotel.”

“Bring the laundry in,” ordered Erlan-
son. “But leave one man there—in-hid-
ing. When Craig comes for his clean
clothes, the detective can wait on him.”

EANWHILE, squads had ranged
through the colored district, ques-
tioning those whose telephone numbers had
been found in the note-book, without se-
curing a clue to the prowler’s identity.
Examining the note-book for perhaps

_the. fortieth time, Lieutenant Erlanson

jumped up from his desk, demanding:
“What squad is checking on the phone
in the Martifi home?”
A patrolman consulted a memorandum.
“Sergeant McGuire,” he answered.
“Radio him to telephone me,” ordered
Erlanson.
McGuire called within a few minutes.
“Marty,” said Lieutenant Erlanson,

“have you hit that Indiana Avenue ad-.

dress yet?” ,

“No,” answered the detective, “that’s one
of the-last on my list.”

“Good,” said Erlanson. “I have found
that of all the numbers in this note-book,
that one is most likely to produce results.
It was written down recently ; the indenta-
tions in the page still show traces of the
black dust of the pencil lead. THe other
numbers are ‘old ones—faded. Go out
there at once. . Pump them dry. _ Bring
them in if you think it necessary.”

At the Martin home, 5430 Indiana Ave-
nue, McGuire questioned Mrs. A. L. Mar-
tin.

“Yes, that’s my number,” she said. “I
haven’t heard of a fellow named Craig
calling here.”

A half hour later, McGuire reported to
headquarters. : :

“I’ve questioned a dozen people here,”

yy > ¥ ra ty ae A

PENSE we ii
y Mee eh! ne ea TSR Se Mc ae Pe aah

he said, “but none of them know a fellow
named Craig. I believe they’re telling the
truth.”

“Are they the only ones who use the
phone?” demanded Erlanson.

“No, there’s one more—a girl, Audrey
Tatum. She’s a dancer in some cabaret.
The people don’t know where she’s. work-
ing and she’s not expected home today.”

“Start searching the cabarets in the black
belt,” ordered Erlanson. ‘Many colored
criminals hang out in those spots. She'd
be more likely to know the man we want
than any other person we’ve questioned. In
her business, one meets the worst and the
best people.” "

A moment later, the telephone at Er-
lanson’s elbow tinkled. It was the Bureau
of Identification calling.

“Say, Lieutenant,” said a fingerprint ex-
pert, “I understand you’re looking for a
negro named Craig in that murder.”

“Yes,” answered Erlanson, “why ?”

“One of the fellows picked up in the
round-up is named Craig.”

“Impossible. Why I looked at all the
arrest slips myself. There was no one
named Craig.” ;

“That’s right—not on the. arrest slips.
But one of the prisoners gave a phony
name. His record shows his real name
is Craig.”

“Send him down,” cried Erlanson. “I
want to talk to that boy.”

HE. prisoner, a burly, pock-marked

negro, was ushered into the lieuten-
ant’s office. He had evidently learned the
reason for -his arrest; he cried as soon
as he came in:

“There’s hundreds of Craigs in this
world. I ain’t the man you want. I got
a perfect alibi.” ;

“I’ve always found,” said Erlanson,
drily, “that people who offer alibis before
they’re asked, have something to hide.”

Excited words tumbled from the lips of
the prisoner.

“Just check up on me,” he declared, fin-
ishing a long statement, “and you'll find
I'm tellin’ the truth.”

Signalling detectives to take Craig back
to a cell, Erlanson said grimly:

“That's just what we’ll do—check up on
you.”

Meanwhile, a squad, after visiting a
score of drinking places, had found Audrey
Tatum in a cabaret at Twenty-ninth and
State Streets. _ A spirited, olive-skinned
young woman, she denied knowing any-
one named Craig. Taken to headquarters,
the dancer convinced Lieutenant Erlanson
that she was telling the truth. Craig, the
prisoner, was brought before her.

“Never saw him before in my life,” she
insisted.

As she spoke, a detective entered with
a bundle, which he laid on Lieutenant Er-
lanson’s desk.

“The laundry,” he said.

“Can I go now?” Miss Tatum asked.

“I have to appear in another show tonight.”

“No, wait,” cried Lieutenant Erlanson,
jumping to his feet, “I have something to
show you.’

He picked up the package and opened
it. Lifting a shirt that was on top of
the pile of laundry, he swung around, say-
ing:

“Maybe Miss Tatum can identify this.”

Assistant State’s Attorney Meyers shud-
dered when he saw the garment.

stole it from my pocket while
rant Park three weeks ago,”
omer.
1 on the table the gaudy shirt
rected the finger of suspicion
he
1e asked.

Swain, “that’s my best shirt.
ou get it? I left it at a laun-

ied forward. His eyes flash-
ided:

lain how a laundry ticket is-
a week ago was between the
\ote-book which.you say has
your hands for three weeks,”

ner’s face became: mottled
gagged for a moment. Ner-
iffed his cigarette.
y,” he stuttered.

Come on!” cried Erlanson.

1 the negro, becoming calmer,
k of it, I lost that note-book
‘eek ago.”

cribbled on a piece of paper.
t to a squad leader, who at
d left the room. Meanwhile,
sking:

guilty, do you think I’d come
: station to surrender? There
hideouts on the South Side

‘r from the Bureau of Identi-
ed. Leaning over Erlanson,

't been able as yet to match
ts up with any of those found
room, but we have his police

the lieutenant a report con-
minal history of the prisoner.
been arrested in October,
ort showed, on a charge of
ney as a “curbstone” car
had been sentenced to thirty
touse of Correction on that

try brought a grim smile to
s. Standing on the fire escape
el, Swain had been captured
into the room of a sleeping
She had refused to prose-
he had been set free.
dout the same hotel on May
had been arrested on suspi-
ged with disorderly conduct.
discharged when arraigned

id Erlanson, finishing -his
seem to be fond of fire

leader, dispatched on an er-
ne before by Lieutenant Er-
his head in the door.

,” he announced.

id Erlanson. “Ask her to

Ibert telephoned the lockup.
ie turnkey :
ity colored prisoners to the

ain by the arm, he left the
de door and went up in the
e auditorium in which crime
criminals.

suspected killer among the
, Gilbert telephoned down-
sked that Miss Veiger be
1€ young woman was led to a

Her attention was directed

to the brightly lighted platform on which
eight negroes stood. F

“No,” she said, “the man ‘who ‘tried to
enter my room is not among them.”

The group was marched from the stage
and another led out.

HERE he is! There he is!” cried Miss
Veiger, pointing to Swain, as the line
still shuffled across the platform. “I could
pick him out in a_ million.”
Taken to Lieutenant Erlanson’s office,
the prisoner was grilled anew.
“That lady’s wrong,” he insisted. “I’m

not that kind of man.”

For hours the quizzing continued. Swain
would not change his story. He stubbornly

'~ declared:

“I am not a murderer or prowler.”

For the second time, Lieutenant Erlan-
son had Miss Veiger denounce him.

The spirited young woman, her eyes
flashing hate, stood in front of the shackled

gro and cried: ‘

“You're the man! You know you are!

You killed Mrs. Trammell, too. Why don’t .

you be a man and confess?”

While the prosecutors and detectives
watched breathlessly, Swain’s head sank
down on his chest. He muttered:

Mf guess you “got me. I might as well
confess,”

A stenographer hunched closer, pencil
poised over his note-book.

Admitting the attempt to enter Miss Vei-
ger’s room, Swain told of his movements
preceding the murder. He told of spending
his last dime for admission to a small
burlesque theater.

“When I left the show,” he -went on, “I
decided to see Audrey Tatum. I love that
girl, But my. good clothes were in the

‘laundry. I needed money to get them out,

so I decided to break into a room to get
some funds.”

The powerful negro broke into sobs. He
was unable to continue for a few moments.

Impatiently, detectives waited for him to’

resume.

“Be a man,” said Captain Gilbert. “Dry :

those tears. Go on with your story.”
Swain, choking back his sobs, continued :
._ “T played pool in the Subway Pool Hall
at Harrison and State,” he said, “until
1:30 Sunday morning. Then I went for

. a walk which ended in the rear of the

State Hotel.

“I figured on breaking into one of the
rooms next to the fire escape.. I saw a
light in a third floor room and decided I'd
.try that one.

“You'll say this is impossible,” he said,
smiling with pride, “but I did it. I stood

in the alley, jumped up and grabbed hold .

of the fire escape and pulled it down. I

3 - used to be a high jumper and found the

trick easy.

“I went up to the third floor room
where. the light was and entered through
the south window, which was wide open.
In a corner, a woman huddled. Apparently
she was just undressing for bed. She was
nude. She became frightened and asked:

“What ‘are you doing here?’

“T said: ‘I want some money.

The prisoner’s. eyes swept around the

_ circle of grim, accusing faces. In a

haunted manner, he cried:

“I didn’t rape her, though. I’ve heard
about the hanging of a negro at Owens-
boro, Kentucky. He raped a white woman.

“AMERICAN DETECTIVE

I don’t want to be strung up. I won’t.”

“Now, »Rufo,” ‘said Captain Gilbert,
soothingly, “don’t be afraid of being
lynched.. Remember this is Chicago. Did
you ever hear of a negro’s being lynched
here?” -

“No,” the prisoner admitted, “T haven’t.
Vl tell you the rest, but you must protect
me.”

“We will, ” promised Gilbert, adding in
an undertone that was too low to reach

the negro’s ears, “—protect you for the

executioner.” —

Swain-continued- with his story:

“She said she didn’t have any money.
I saw she was going to scream, so I ran
over to her and choked her before she had
a chance.

“I then took the water ‘itches that was
on the dresser and hit her hard once. Then
I struck her four or five times not so hard.
I dragged her to the bed.

“Then I searched the room. I found
some-change, which I took. I went out
the window and down the same way I came
up. I went over'to Grant Park and slept

‘Rufo Swain

on the grass. ‘someplace near the blane-
tarium.

“And that’s all there was to it.”

A: few hours later, Swain reenacted the
crime, showing the manner in which he had
entered the hotel room. Without a bit of
superfluous fat on his body, Swain was in
perfect physical trim.and made the difficult
entrance to the room with ease.

After the confession to the murder of
Mrs. Trammell was signed, officials began
questioning him in an attempt to connect
him with the slaying of Mrs. Castle, mur-
dered in a North Side hotel.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that
one,” said Swain. “I was never on the
North Side in my life.”

But in his note-book, police found an
entry which convinced them that there
was a strong possibility the prisoner was

lying. This was the notation, “Berksh— °

Hotel.” The Devonshire Hotel, in which

Mrs. Castle was slain, adjoins the Berk- |
- shire Hotel.

“You just can’t read my chicken-track
writing,” said the negro. “That isn’t for

_ Berkshire. That means Hotel Brookmont,

3953 South Michigan.”

Seven-year-old Jimmy Thompson, son
of the slain night club lady, was brought
to Chicago from Detroit to view the sus-
pect. The child had been asleep beside his
mother on the murder night and had awak-
ened, he told police, to find a “big black
man” choking and beating her.

Wide-eyed Jimmy, munching candy, sat
in a front seat in the showup room and
a score .of negroes were paraded across
the platform in front of him. Gravely,
the child examined the men carefully, finally

“selecting five whom he said “looks like the

man who killed my mother.” Swain was
not among them.

Captain Gilbert declared:

“The kid’s willing to help and he’s a fine,
smart lad. But I can see he'll never be of
any assistance in running down his moth-
er’s murderer. If the men he selected
resembled one another in stature or some
other prominent feature, I’d place some
faith in his identification. But he’s selected
a fat man, a thin fellow,: another who’s
very tall and one that’s a midget in size.”

Meanwhile, H. A. Rounds, handwriting
expert, studied samples of Swain’s hand-
writing, (comparing it with the printed let-
tering, “Black Legon Game,” which had
been scrawled by the killer with a lipstick
on the mirror in Mrs. Castle’s room.

“There are some points of similarity,”
said the expert, (“but it cannot be proven
that the lettering on the mirror is that of
Swain.”

N August 21st, 1936, the 27-year-old
negro was indicted for the slaying of
Mrs. Trammell.

“T want to get it over with,” he said. “I’ll
plead guilty to escape the electric chair.”

Arraigned before Judge Michael Fein-
berg in the Criminal Court on August 24th,
Swain surprised authorities by pleading
not guilty. His trial was set for Septem-
ber 3rd.

Identification experts reported that they
had been unable to match the prisoner’s
fingerprints with any of those found in
the death room. The prints on the pitcher,
which Swain-had confessed having handled,
were smudged and -valueless.

* Swain’s trial began on November 23rd
before Judge Rudolph Desort of the Cook
County Criminal Court.

The trial ended on November 27th when
the jury, after deliberating for slightly
less than two hours, returned a verdict of
guilty and fixed punishment at death in
the electric chair.

Swain heard the verdict with the same

emotionless calm that he had maintained
throughout the trial. Attorney Brumfield
declared that the court’s ruling that
Swain’s confession was admissible as evi-
dence will be the basis for an appeal ‘“‘to

.the Supreme Court of the United States,

if necessary.”

Arguments on a motion for a new trial
were set for a later date.

Prosecutor Meyers, for whom the con-
viction was the fifth death penalty obtained
in seven months, declared:

“Though I dislike being legal accessory
to the taking of a man’s life in the electric
chair, it must be done in order to halt
the epidemic of sex murders that has swept
Chicago.”

Tue Enp

vat

nap

“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “That—

that’s the rainbow purple cows and pink
elephants jump over in a drunk’s dream.”

The garment would have rivaled Joseph’s ;

coat of many hues; it was striped with red
and green and had small designs in other
‘colors.

With a low laugh, Miss Tatum cried:

“I’ve seen that shirt before.
never forget it. Who would? There could
only be one like it in the wide world. It
belongs to a fellow named Gray. At least
that’s the name he gave me. And—come
to think of it—he had my phone number.”

She had met Gray in a café, she said.
He was known in the black belt asa fre-
quenter of gay night life spots and was a
policy game gambler.

“He liked the horses, too,” she said. “He
never told me where he lived, though.”

Police were elated. They were making
progress. The description of Gray. fitted
that of the prowler who had tried to enter
Miss Veiger’s room. Furthermore, Miss
Tatum supplied a valuable addition to the
description of the fugitive.

“He was marked,” she said, “by an ugly,
livid scar that ran down his right cheek
and neck. I never saw another scar like
at,”

Accompanied by Miss Tatum, squads be-
gan scouring the negro district. Hundreds
of stool pigeons were enrolled in the hunt.
Respectable colored folks, who recoiled in
horror at the terrible nature of the mur-
der in the State Hotel, promised to aid
authorities.

Lieutenant Colman, who had spent more

than twenty years in the colored section
of the near South Side, got first word of
the whereabouts of the fugitive. An in-
former telephored at 2 a. M., August 18th,
saying that Gray, hungry and penniless,
had been seen near Twenty-eighth and
State Streets.

“He’s desperate,” said the stool’ pigeon,
“and is at the end of-his rope.”

DOZEN squads were rushed into ithe

territory. The policemen went over

the district with a fine tooth comb. The

fugitive, the informer said, could not go
far;*he did not have even carfare.

But the wily killer evaded the searchers
in the region of tottering and abandoned
tenement houses and empty factories of
the colored district.

Sergeant Bernacchi -spoke to the police-
men of Central Station at roll call that
afternoon, warning them to maintain a
close lookout for the negro.

“You can’t miss him,” he said.
scar brands him.”

As-the policemen streamed out of head-
quarters to begin pacing their beats, they
passed a powerful colored man who stood
in a dark corner of the corridor.

The negro started gliding along the hall
when the department footsteps of the blue-
coats had faded. He passed a‘ window.
Sunlight streamed over him.

“The

The merciless glare brought into bold
relief a livid scar that disfigured his right’

cheek and neck. It was the fugitive!

From an office in the rear stepped a po-
liceman. The negro turned hurriedly, in
evident fear, and swiftly walked . away.
Carrying shotguns, a group of detectives
entered the front door. Like a trapped
animal, the colored man spun about and
stepped quickly into an elevator.

I could

“AMERICAN. DETECTIVE

The car was ‘the one which carries pas-
sengers to the cell room near the top of
the building. .

“Have you got a pass to go to the lock-
up?” demanded the operator.

“No,” answered the negro.

“Get one then,” said the elevator man, ~

pointing to the door of the Central Sta-
tion. “They'll give it to you in there.”.

The negro darted away. He turned
around and saw the suspicious eyes of, the
operator fixed upon him. Sweat running
down his face,’ he went into the Central
Station.

Bending over the roll call sheet, Ser-
geant Bernacchi heard the door open an
from the corner of his eye saw. the visitor.

“Wait,”~said Bernacchi, “until I finish

this.”
Shifting from one foot to the other
nervously, the negro stood in front of’ the
desk. After a minute, Bernacchi swung
about. —

“Now,” he demanded, “what do—”

He never finished his question. Struck
silent by surprise, he started goggle-eyed
at the negro. Finally he gasped:

“You're the man we want—you're Gray !”

“No, my name’s Swain—Rufo Swain,”
said_ the negro. :

“Don’t lie to me,” roared Bernacchi,
grasping his arm.

Meekly, the negro bowed his head, say-
ing: i

UESS you! got me. I’m the man

you're looking for. I. read about it

in the papers. I came here to surrender—

I am not guilty of the crime charged
against me.” i .

“Surrender nothing,” cried the elevator
man. “He was spying. He got scared
because I looked at him closely and he
blundered in here.”

“Well,” said Bernacchi, “the whys or
the hows don’t matter. The important
thing is that he’s Gray.”

In a short time, a large group of police
officials were seated about Gray in Captain
O’Connor’s private office. The prisoner’s
fingerprints were taken and sent to the
Bureau of Identification to be checked
against those that had been ‘found in the
murder room. ;

“Tell us -your story now, Gray,” said
Captain Gilbert, leaning back in his. chair.

The negro lighted a ‘cigarette and
drawled:

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. I heard
you were looking for me in connection witlt
a murder. I had nothing to do with it, so

‘I came in to clear up the misunderstand-

ing.”

“Say,” exclaimed Assistant State’s At-
torney Meyers, “you don’t talk like a bum,
yet—”

The negro finished the statement for him. -

“Yet I look like one,” he said. “I am
an educated man. My conversation doesn’t
fit these rags. I’ve had tough luck lately.
No job. I’m a high school graduate and
attended Arkansas Baptist College for two
years. I was a track and football star
there and, just for the sake of the record,
I might state that my correct name is Rufo
Swain.” ;

“Ts this yours?” asked Lieutenant Erlan-
son, placing the damning black note-book

-on the table.

“Yes,” answered the negro. | “Where
did you get it? I- lost it.” :
“When?” snapped Gilbert.

“Someone stole it from my pocket while
I slept in Grant Park three weeks ago,”
said the prisoner.

Meyers laid on the table the gaudy shirt
which had directed the finger of suspicion
toward Swain. a

“Yours?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Swain, “that’s my best shirt.
Where did you get it? I left it at a laun-
dry.” .

Gilbert leaned forward. His eyes flash-
ing, he demanded :

“Then explain how a laundry. ticket is-
sued to you a week ago was between the
pages of a note-book which.you say has
been out of your hands for three. weeks,”

Ten prisoner’s face became mottled
g

ray. He gagged for a moment. Ner-
vously, he puffed his cigarette.

“Why—why,” he stuttered.

“Come on! Come on!” cried Erlanson.
“Explain °

“Well,” said the negro, becoming calmer,
“come to think of it, I lost that note-book
less than a week ago.”

Erlanson scribbled on a piece of paper.
He handed it to a squad leader, who at
once arose and left the room. Meanwhile,
Swain was asking:

“Tf I were guilty, do you think I’d come

-into the police station to surrender? There
are a lot of hideouts on the South Side
you know.”

"A messenger from the Bureau of Identi-
fication entered. Leaning over Erlanson,
he whispered: ‘

“We haven’t been able as yet to match
his fingerprints up with any of those found
in the murder room, but we have his police
record.”

He handed the lieutenant a report con-
taining the criminal history of the prisoner.

Swain had been arrested in October,
1934, the report showed, on a charge of
extorting money as a “curbstone” car
watcher. He had been sentenced to thirty
days in the House of Correction on that
‘occasion.

The next entry brought a grim smile to
Erlanson’s lips. Standing on the fire escape
of a loop hotel, Swain-had been captured
as he peered into the room of a sleeping
white woman. She had refused to prose-
cute him and he had been set free.

Loitering about the same hotel on May
17th, 1936, he had been arrested on suspi-

. cion and charged with disorderly conduct.

He had been discharged when arraigned
in court.

“Rufo,” said Erlanson, finishing his
reading, you seem to be fond of fire
escapes.” 55

The squad leader, dispatched on an er-
rand some time before by Lieutenant Er-
lanson, stuck his head in the door.

“She’s here,” he announced.

“Okay,” said Erlanson.. “Ask her to
wait.”

Captain Gilbert telephoned the lockup.
He ordered the turnkey :

“Send twenty colored prisoners to the
showup room.”

Taking Swain by the arm, he left the
room by a side door and went up in the
elevator to the auditorium in which crime
victims view criminals.

Placing the suspected killer among the
other negroes, Gilbert telephoned down-
stairs and asked that Miss Veiger be
shown up. The young woman was led to a
front row seat. Her attention was directed

' to the brightly lighte

eight negroes stood.
“No,” she said, “t

{enter my room is not

The group was ma
and another led out

“mmtTERE he is! T)
Veiger, pointing

still shuffled across t

pick him out in a

Taken to Lieuten
> the prisoner was gr

“That lady’s wror
not that kind of ma

For hours the quiz
- _ would not change hi
“- declared :

“J am not a murd
For the second ti
son had Miss Veige
The spirited you
flashing hate, stood 1
gro and cried:
“You're the man!
You killed Mrs. Tr:
you be a man and :
While the prose
watched breathless!
down on his chest.
“I guess you got
confess.”
8 A. stenographer
;. - poised over his not:
Admitting the att
‘ger’s room, Swain
preceding the murd:
his last dime for
burlesque theater.
a “When I left the
», decided to see Aud
®- - girl, But my go
>>. laundry. I needed
“> so I decided to br
some funds.”

The powerful ne
was unable to cont
Impatiently, detect
# resume.

' . “Be a man,” sai
those tears. Go «
Swain, choking

_ . “I played pool i

at Harrison and
1:30 Sunday mor

.a walk which en

State Hotel.

“I figured on t
- rooms next to th
light in a third fi
.try that one.
“You'll say thi:
smiling with prid
in the alley, jum;
of the fire escap
> used to be a hig
‘trick easy.
' “T went up t
-where. the light
aq the south windov
Ina corner, a we
she was just und
nude. She beca:

“What are y:

“JT said: ‘I wa

The prisoner’:
_. sircle of grim,
» haunted manner,

—~ “JT didn’t rape

about the hangi:

_ boro, Kentucky.

ties stn orca as

June, 1937

“you’re in Chicago, not Kentucky. Did
ou ever hear of a negro being lynched
ere? Don’t be afraid.”

“No—I’ve never heard of a lynching
here,” Swain agreed reluctantly. “But
you_must protect me if I tell everything.”

“Certainly,” Captain Gilbert assured
him. “We'll protect you.”

“Well, Mrs. Trammell said she had no
money,” the prisoner went on. “She was
pretty scared and | saw that she was go-
Ing to scream, so | grabbed the water

itcher and hit her hard—once. Then

_ Struck her four or five times more, but
lighter. I dragged her to the _ bed,
searched the room and found some
change. I. went out the window the same
way | came in, walked to Grant Park and
went to sleep. That's all.” |

With his confession officially recorded,
Rufo Swain was lodged ini a cell and
charged with murder in the first degree.

Later, in the presence of half a dozen

officers, the scar-faced killer reenacted -

the crime and amazed us with his agility.

Master Detective.

He moved like a black panther, reachin
the fire escape far above his head wit
a prodigious leap, and we_ understood
how easy it had been for him to climb
to the Trammell room.

We made efforts to link him with the
murder of Mrs. Castle on the North Side
of Chicago,. but so far have been unable
to find any evidence, other than the
similarity of the two murders.

Before concluding, | want to pay
tribute to the patience and perseverance
of the officers who worked on the case—
for they took slender, almost invisible

threads and wove them into a definite ,

pattern, which figuratively served as a
shroud for the scar-faced monster. |

He was found guilty by a jury in the
court of “ udolph Desort on, No-
vember 27th, 1936, after a four-day trial in
which Prosecutor Meyers, obtaining his
fifth death penalty in seven, months, built
a masterly case. On the night of Febru-
ary 25th, 1937, Rufo Swain was electro-
cuted in the Cook County jail.

Scarlet Riders

(Continued from page 25)

hauling a body toward the creek; while
another had seen skin and:-hair upon the
stones. This information: was valueless,
however, -as rains had .long ago obliterated
all such signs. Then, on: July 20th, came
a mysterious call from:the Watson ranch
beside the Red Deer, sixteen miles below
Tait Creek. Hurrying over there, Penny-
cuick found a decomposed body lying on
the sand.

While.-herding cattle, Watson had seen
it floating in the rivér.-and hauled it
ashore. But decomposition was so: far
advanced there seemed. little likelihood: of
the body being identified... The'features
were unrecognizable; the clothing gone.
A..pair. of rough work boots and woolen
pee were the sole articles of apparel, and
might have been worn by any settler. As
they lifted the body to carry it up the
bank, something fell at Pennycuick’s feet.
He stooped and picked it up. A bullet!
The movement had dislodged it.

THE coroner’s jury viewed the remains
with a squeamish lack of interest. Wit-
nesses could not agree on a single point
of identification. Pennycuick saw the
fruits of his labors coming to naught be-
fore his eyes. Suddenly he turned. The
elder Thomas was whispering in his ear.
With eyes alight he. stepped over to the
body, loosened the right boot and ex-
amined the foot. The great toe lay be-
neath the second and touched the base of
the third. There was evidence of an old
scar, a deep one, on the arch of the foot.

With one accord the Thomas boys came
forward. They examined the foot and
nodded.

“’d know him anywhere from that
foot of his,” the elder Thomas averred.
“When a kid, Rufus cut his great toe bad-
ly. His mother bound the wound too
tightly and it left the big toe under the
second and touching the third one. I’d
almost forgotten it!”

Ernest Cashel’s fate now hung by one
slender thread of evidence—a_ deformed
toe caused by an accident over forty years
before. The coroner’s jury immediately
brought in its verdict: Rufus Belt had
come to his death from a bullet, wound
inflicted by Ernest Cashel sometime _be-
tween October 18th and November 2nd,
1902.

Returning to the barracks, Pennycuick
filed information against Cashel for mur-
der, and the necessary arrangements were

concluded to bring him back from Stony
Mountain to Calgary for trial.

x * &
Public interest reached a high point as

the drama began to unfold within the lit- |

tle courthouse at Calgary on the mornin

of November 19th, 1903. With head hel

jauntily erect, his deep-shadowed eyes
fixed solemnly upon the stern features of
Chief Justice Sifton, Cashel followed the
evidence closely. As Pennycuick, with un-
canny precision, traced Cashel’s every
movement the prisoner realized that the
evidence was drawing him irresistibly to
the gallows. Though outwardly com-
posed, the nervous twitching of his fea-
tures told plainly their own story. Ernest
Cashel was a trapped and frightened lad!

In vain P. J. Nolan, K. C., fought for
the life of the prisoner in the dock. In
vain he flayed the findings of the coroner’s
jury, ay that each member had
visited the Watson ranch convinced he
was going to see the body of Rufus Belt.

But that deformed toe could not be ex-
ase away or talked out of existence.

either could the fifty-dollar American
gold certificate that Cashel had flashed so
recklessly in the faces of half a dozen
different witnesses,

When, with a last dramatic gesture,
Pennycuick pointed to a dark stain below
the armpit of the corduroy coat and pro-
duced the report showing the stain to be
human blood, Cashel’s wrinkled forehead
showed he realized his desperate plight.

Thirty minutes later, with fingers grip-
ping the box so that the knuckles stood
out whitely, he gazed fixedly at the fore-
man of the jury as the latter pronounced
the dread word: “Guilty!”

“Have you anything to say, Cashel, why
sentence should not be passed upon you?”
Judge Sifton asked, eyeing him sternly.

“I have nothing to say,” mumbled the
prisoner in a low voice, “except | ain’t
guilty!”

Lifting a square of black cloth from
the bench before him the Judge placed
it upon his wig and pronounced the death
ps ceed take place on December

th.

For eight days the drama had been
enacted, yet, not once, had Cashel’s com-
posure outwardly failed him. Faced now
with the supreme penalty he refused to
eat, maintaining it was the easier way to

(Continued on page 81)

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An automobile pulled up to the curb beside her and a
man behind the wheel addressed her in a whining voice.
“Please, Miss Castle,” he implored, “won’t you let me drive
you home? I’m crazy about you. No one will ever know
if you ride with me.”

Florence approached the car and peered into it. Appar-
ently she recognized the man. She stamped her foot in
annoyance.

“Go away!” she commanded angrily. “Stop bothering me!
If you don’t go away WII eall the police!”

Across the street’ two men witnessed the little seene,
They watehed in amusement. One of them recognized the
girl. “What’s the matter, Florence?” he called. ‘Having
trouble with the boy friend?”

At that interruption, the man in the automobile meshed
the gears, stepped on the gas and drove away. Florence
hurried on, not stopping to reply to the remark from across
the street.

* %X% *

It was five-thirty on the morning of June 29th, 1936,
three days later, and the lobby of Chicago’s gay Devonshire
Hotel, at 19 East Ohio Street, was practically deserted.

From a cocktail lounge off the lobby came the faint tinkle
of a piano and the muffled soprano of a girl singing a popular
tune. A few patrons still lingered over their drinks, but
most of the Devonshire’s guests had retired to their rooms.

Elvin Richardson, the lobby clerk, was dozing behind his
desk when a thin, piping voice addressed him. He looked
over the desk and saw a round-eved, eherubie little boy of

1 “There’s something written on this mirror; some-
thing mighty strange,” declared Captain William
O’Brien (left), as he examined the cryptic message
scrawled in scarlet on this glass. Attractive Florence
Castle Thompson (below), happy at being re-
united with her son, had no premonition of
the fate that was so soon to overtake her

ONSTER

“Somebody choked my mama,” the lad declared. “A man
choked her and hit her. I believe she’s pretty near dead.
She’s on the bed in our room.”

The boy’s attitude was entirely matter-of-fact. He might
have been talking about a casual, every-day matter. He
gave no indication of fright or alarm.

Richardson could at first hardly believe his ears. The
incident. was completely astounding. Then he coneluded that
the child must have had a nightmare and, upon awakening
from some terrible dream, had found his way to the lobby
from one of the rooms upstairs.

“What’s your name, Sonny?” the clerk asked. “T’'ll take
you up to your room. Everything will be al right.”

The boy replied in an assured voice, “My name’s Jimmy
Thompson and Teame here yesterday to live with my mama,
She's in Room 814.”

Leaving a girl switchboard operator in charge of the desk,
Richardson took Jimmy by the hand, led him to the elevator
and rode with him to the eighth floor. The door of Number
814 was ajar, and they walked in.

“See—what did I tell you?” The eluld pointed toward
the bed. On it lay the nude body of Mrs. Florence Castle
Thompson. The viectim’s blonde hair was matted and stained
with crimson, and there was a gaping wound in the top of
her head.

Richardson was transfixed for a moment. He had known
Florence Castle—that being the name under which she was
registered at the hotel—for many weeks; had chatted with
her only the previous evening. He snatched up the tele-
phone in the room.

An alarm was flashed to the East Chicago Avenue Police
Station, less than a mile away. In command there was
Captain William O’Brien, one of Chieago’s most alert and

SWAIN, Rufo, black, electrocuted Cook County Jail, Illinois, on February 26, 1937.

“Somebody choked my mama,” little Jimmy
Thompson (right) told Elvin Richardson, hotel
clerk, pictured with him. Then the child led
Richardson to the room where his lovely young
mother, Florence, lay—mysteriously murdered!

ON THE
TRAIL OF
CHICAGO’S

T THE cocktail bar of a Chicago night club sat a
blonde young woman in a daringly cut evening gown.

The scene was one that might be duplicated in a
hundred other night-life spots. A six-piece orchestra

filled the place with the throbbing melody of a fox-trot,
and a sleck-haired young man warbled throatily into a
microphone. ‘Two score couples swayed on a small dance
floor. Others sipped drinks at tables or lounged at the bar.

The place was the Nut Louse, located at North Clark
and Ohio Streets, only a few blocks from the towering sky-
scrapers of the downtown section, and in the center of the
city’s gay and garish café district.

The blonde at the bar was Mrs. IMlorence Castle 'Thomp-
son, twenty-four years old. She had attracted: the glances
of several men patrons of the eafé. dter faee was delicately
beautiful and her gown was designed to display her charm-
ingly-rounded figure to the fullest advantage.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Florence was speaking in appealing,
apologetic tones to a heavy-set, dark-skinned man beside her.
“T really can’t go out with you, much as Td hike to,

“The management doesn’t allow us girls to make dates
with the men we meet here. It would give the club a bad
name. But you can come here and visit with me at any
time.”

The man’s reply was an angry curse. Ie hurled his
cigarette to the floor and sent his whisky glass crashing
after it.

“You'll never see me again!” he vowed. “I’m through
being a chump! Coming here and spending my hard-earned
dough on you! And you won’t even let me take you home!”

With that he snatehed up his hat from an adjacent bar
stool and strode out.

Florence took s step or two after him

1”

“Please, Jacek,”
rgy '

By JOHN

MASTER DETECTIVE, March, 19396

swung shut behind him and he was gone. Florence shrugged
and turned back to the bar. -

Another man greeted her effusively. “Don’t worry about
that bum sport,” he admonished her. “Have « drink with
me instead.” Florence smiled and moved near hin.

The bartender placed before her a glass that was supposed
to contain a whisky highball—but didn’t. For Florence drank
nothing intoxicating. By agreement, the bar attendants sub-
stituted ten for whisky in her drinks.

Her position in the Nut House was that of hostess, Tt
was her job to provide companionship to men patrons who
were not escorting women; mostly, it must he admitted, to
married men out for an evening away from their wives. In
payment for her services, Florence received thirty per cent
of the money collected from the men for her non-alcoholic
drinks.

Florence’s work could not be considered any too gentecl,
but it was the best she could get. A former night-club
singer, her career had been cut short by a throat ailment
that had harmed the tonal qualities of her voice. A job
as hostess had been the only thing open to her.

Some day, she hoped, her voice might return and she
could go on to success via the stage, radio and the movies.
She had been married and divorced three times, but her
former husbands were not in position to support her, and
her parents were dead.

At three o’eclock in the morning, Florence finished ler
night’s duties in the eafé. She left by a side door and

started walking east along Ohio Street, by now elmost de-

foera?

10 Master

Also notified were Chief of Detectives John lL. Sullivan
and Lieutenant Otto [rlanson, on duty at Headquarters,
and the office of State’s Attorney Thomas J, Courtney.

Within ten minutes a half-dozen of Chicago's most able

~police officers and detectives were gathered at the crime scene,
» Chief Sullivan took charge of the immediate investigation
in the dead woman’s room, moving about gingerly to avoid
blotting fingerprints or disturbing any other possible clues.

And there were several weird clues within the room!

The murder weapon Jay on a chair at the side of the bed.
It was half a brick, stained with blood. Blonde hairs from
the victim’s head clung to it.

On the floor was a screen that apparently had come from
the room’s only window. This window was open, and di-
rectly outside was a fire escape that wended its way up the
outside of the sixteen-story building.

“The killer came up the fire escape and in the window,”
Chief Sullivan remarked. ° “Probably he murdered her as
she slept, since there is no sign of a struggle.”

There were bloodstains everywhere—on the walls, floor
and furniture; even on the ceiling, in the bathroom, on
the washbowl and on the towels and shower-bath curtain,
The slayer had evidently washed stains from. his person
before leaving.

The Chief of Detectives picked up a flimsy, torn garment
from the floor. It was a nightgown of silk and lace,

Captain O’Brien walked to a vanity dresser that stood
against the wall. He stood looking into the mirror, finally
lighted a match and peered more closely. No lights were
on in the room, for the investigators could not risk destroy-
ing fingerprints by touching the electric switch.

“There’s something written on this mirror; something
mighty strange!” commented O’Brien.

The others crowded about the Captain to look. Serawled
in red against the glass were the mysterious words:

“Black Legon—Game.”

Also on the mirror was a erude drawing of a skull and
crossbones. On the dresser was a lipstick, its point broken,
The baffling message apparently had been written with Mrs.
Castle’s lipstick.

At that point the Coroner's physician arrived to examine
the body. Experts from the police Bureau of Identifien-
tion, armed with the usual fingerprint equipment, cameras
and other paraphernalia, soon reached the scene.

While they were at work, Chief Sullivan turned to inter-
viewing Richardson, the clerk. He assigned other detectives
to asking questions: about the hotel; instructing them to
ascertain the namés of Mrs. Castle’s acquaintances and to
learn everything possible about her private life.

Richardson led the Chief
of Detectives to little Jimmy
Thompson, who had_ been
taken to a near-by room and
left. in the care of a uni- |
formed officer during the
preliminary survey of the
crime scene.

Jimmy’s first remark after
meeting ,Chief Sullivan had
nothing to do with the mur-
der of his mother,

“T’m hungry,” the boy
stated ealmly, “When ean
I have some breakfast?”

Chief Sullivan, when he
recovered his aplomb, tele-
phoned for cereal, a boiled
egg, toast and milk to be
sent up from the hotel res-
taurant. Tle coneluded at
once that Jimmy did not
realize the extent of the
tragedy that had occurred;
reasoned that it might be
best to proceed in an entire-
ly natural manner, taking
pains not to alarm the’
child.

The youngster munched
his breakfast and talked to
Chief Sullivan with complete

Detective

lack of restraint. There was nothing shy about him, even
in the presence of strangers. He gave, in fret, an interview
that veteran police investigators declared to be the atrangest
of their experience, A detective with a knowledge of short-
hand jotted it down.

Yes, the boy affirmed, the blonde lady was his mother.
He had been living with his grandmother in Detroit, but
had come to Chicago the previous day by train to spend
two months. Jimmy added naively that he could ride a
bieyele, and that he would be eight years old in six months.

Chief Sullivan bent his efforts toward keeping the young-
ster talking frecly, hoping he might drop some hint of
value.

The boy added that he had ridden all alone on the train
from Detroit to Chicago. His mother had met him at the
railroad station at ten o’clock the previous day, and a round
of pleasure had begun, including a boat ride on Lake
Michigan. He had also seen a movie and eaten dinner in a
restaurant.

The Chief asked the lad if his mother had introduced him
to any of her friends.

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “I met a lot of nice ladies and men
here in the hotel.”

Unfortunately, he could recall the name of only one man
from among the persons to whom his mother had presented
him, That man was named “Sid,” and he had accompanied
them on the boat. ride.

(THE movie and dinner had come after the boat excursion,

and then his mother had taken him to her room. He
was tired, he recalled, and had dropped off to sleep as soon
as he had been undressed.

“Did you awaken during the night?” Chief Sullivan asked.

To that query he gave, in a calm voice and without change
of expression on his childish features, a reply that sent a
shock of amazement through the Chief.

“Sure IT woke up,” he declared. “I woke up when a big
black man came into the room and began hitting my mama
with a brick.’”’

Chief Sullivan remained casual, which required an effort.

“Did you ever see that man before, Jimmy ?” he inquired.

The seven-year-old shook his head. “The man’s face. was
black, like a negro. He was a great big man, almost like a
giant. I never saw him before.” .

He was then asked if the intruder had said anything to
him.

“Yes,” the boy replied promptly. “I asked him who he
was and he told me he was a friend of my mama. He told
me to go back to sleep, and I did.”

SF See

eel eee

nit ill i ils NN eye

Pnhecs

ninitindtine

a a ee

aig

Mrs. Alma A, Waterman of Drayton
Plains, near Pontiac, on June 12, 1934,
She was charged with performing an
illegal operation and was convicted in
Circuit Court of attempting an abortion.
She was sentenced September 14, 1934, to
serve 6() days in the Oakland County Jail
and remain on probation for one year. |
Although Dr. Cool had made damaging
admissions .in his formal statements
following our discovery of the baby’s

body, he pleaded not guilty in Cir-
cuit Court and was given.a trial, following
which he was found guilty of second-degree
murder. He was sentenced July 16, 1934, by
the late Circuit Judge Frank L. Covert to
serve 25 to 50 years in Jackson Prison.

Mrs. Petersen was a witness against
Doctor Cool and pleaded guilty to a
manslaughter charge. She was sentenced
July 14 by Judge Covert to serve 2 to 15
years in the Detroit House of Correction.

Charges against Mrs, Johnson and

Dennis were reduced to conspiracy lo pers

form an abortion, which were nolle prossed
December 3, 1934, by Circuit Judge Frank
{.. Doty on our recommendation. We felt
that the couple already had learned their
lesson, and that incarceration would not
be of any greater benefit.

Several other men and women were
arrested during the courseof our investi-
gations into the illegal operations racket,

but we turned them loose when we were
unable to unearth sufficient: evidence on
which we could build good court cases.

Since our activities, and the sentenc-
ing of the three doctors and the nurse,
Pontiac and Oakland County have been
notably free of such quackery, and the
lives of our young women are now much
safer, we believe. It is significant that not
a single baby has been found by the way-
side in this county since then.

The Riddle of the Nude in the Cemetery (Continued from Page 7)

would be if ever we. got our hands on
Bridges. Yet we had no clew to her iden-
tity, no way of tracing that letter which
put into one connected narrative an ex-
perience which we believed had been dupli-
cated by Mildred Hallmark who had died
from it.

Apparently the girl herself reached the
same conclusion.and decided to help us
further. She sent two emissaries, close
boy friends who knew what had happened
to her, to give us the automobile license
number which the boys had taken down
when at a dance she had pointed out a
slender, curly-haired young man as the
Bridges who had assaulted her!

“We've been laying for this fellow. ever
since, trying to get him in a spot where
we could beat him into a pulp without
involving the girl in publicity,” one of
the youths explained. “She has decided
that a beating will not do if he is the
man who killed the Hallmark girl, and
she believes he is. She wants the killer
to pay with his life in the chair because
he deserves it. To avenge herself and
Miss Hallmark and save other girls from
the hands of this human beast, she will
come forward and identify him if you
arrest him. She would rather that her
identity be kept secret, if possible, but
she will make even that sacrifice if neces-
sary.”

We took the license number thank-
fully. Too long we had been working
without some specific, concrete thing.
This was something into which we could
get our teeth. We were none too hopeful
that the key to the Hallmark case actu-
ally had been thrust into our hands at
last, for we had followed up too man
disappointing clews. On the other hand,
this might be it.

Automobile license records yielded the
name of the person to whom this num-
ber had been issued — Anthony Smith.
A common enough name, Smith—but the
man we sought had used it at least’ once.
Had he slipped that time and given his
real name, or had he been as sly and
shrewd as we suspected him of being, and
depended upon the commonness of the
name to disguise the fact it was his real
one? :

Quickly two carloads of detectives were
speeding to the address given as the home
of the Anthony Smith in the license rec-
ords. He was at home—and he was young,
slender, curly-haired and soft-spoken!

Being taken into custody—and not be-
ing given: the slightest inkling why—un-
nerved him. He was asked about his car.
He said it was in a paint shop. He was
rushed to the shop he named, and point-d
it out—all nicely gummed up with a pre-
liminary rough coat of blue paint, and

Sterilization—Fox Hickman, the

written confessions. In prison, he showed
a craze for portraying himself on paper.
The following are pieced together from
various documents in his own hand.

For several years I have had a peculiar
complex. I have had an uncontrollable desire
to commit a great crime. This peculiar feel-
ing, and I believe that it borders on the edge
of insanity, or that it comes as a weird relief
from seriousness or deep thought, found a
means of expressing itself in the Parker
case. . 7

I think that if I want something, no mat-
ter what means I have to use to secure it,
I am justified in getting it. Even in the mur-
der of Marion Parker I could not realize the
terrible guilt. I felt that some kind of Provi-
dence was guiding and protecting me in this
whole case...

I. told Marion to write her father that
he must not try to trap me, or something
might happen to her. She wrote the note in
her own words and very willingly. I told
Marion all along that I would have to make
things look worse to her father than they
really were, so that he would be eager to -
settle right away. Marion knew that I wrote
her father that I would kill her if he didn’t
pay me, but she didn’t know I meant it and
was not worried or excited about it...

My intention to murder completely grip-
ped me. I went to the kitchen and got out
the rolling-pin, meaning to knock her uncon-
scious. I hesitated for a second and changed
my mind. Instead, I took a dish towel and
came back to where she was sitting in the
chair pushed back in a small nook in the
drawing-room with her back turned to me. |
I gently placed the towel about her neck and
explained that it might rest her head, but be-
fore she had time to doubt or even say any-
thing, I suddenly pulled the towel about her
throat and applied all of my strength to the
move...

At this point Hickman described in
words too repellent to quote, how he had
placed the girl’s or in the bathtub, strip-
ping it nude and hacking off the limbs
with a butcher’s knife. He insisted that
he had had no temptation to “take «any
advantage of -her femininity.” But he
could not deny the horrible fact that the
murder itself had given him sadistic joy.

After he had told the details of the Ma-
rion Parker affair, Hickman confessed to a

whole series of undetected crimes. He was
a native of Arkansas, but had spent most
of his youth in Kansas City, Missouri.
There he had met a lad named Welby
Hunt, three years younger than himself,

* had dominated him and trained him as an

assistant.

Early in the winter of 1926, Hickman
and Hunt had started to hold up drug
stores and other shops in Kansas City.
They were not caught, because they con-
tented themselves with small spoils and
escaped quickly. They finally stole a car
and drove to the Pacific Coast. They
reached Los Angeles on Christmas Eve,
and needing money for the holidays they
put on Santa Claus masks and entered the
drug store of Ivy Toms.

hile they were robbing the cash regis-
ter, a policeman came in. Hickman started
to shoot wildly. He hit the proprietor,
Toms, and saw him fall to the ground.
He shot the officer in the hand. But Wel-
by Hunt had been wounded slightly, and
the two desperadoes took to flight. They
read in the papers the next morning that
Toms was dead. :

*“1 separated from Welby shortly after-
wards,” Hickman said. “I landed the job
at Mr. Parker’s bank, got into trouble
over the forged checks and returned to
Kansas City after | had been paroled. |
stole Doctor Mantz’s Chrysler coupe in
November, came back to Los Angeles—
and here | am. You know the rest.’

The story about the Toms killing was
not believed at first. But on a tip from
Hickman, Welby Hunt was located. He
promptly confirmed it. Rose Toms, the
druggist’s widow, identified both youths,
asserting that the masks had fallen from
their faces during the uproar and that she
could not be mistaken about them.

Delighted with the publicity he was get-
ting. Hickman sent for all the newspapers
and clipped the stories of his crimes. He
chuckled with pleasure when he read that
Hunt had asserted:

“1 remember him (Hickman) saying
once that he’d like to chop somebody up
some time and throw the pieces along the
roadside.”

The trial started on January 4, 1928,
before Judge Carlos S. Hardy. The State’s
case was handled by Forrest Murray, a
2 06d District Attorney. Hickman was
defended by Jerome Walsh, of Kansas

pr penn | on its upholstery where recent
efforts had been made to clean it of spots.
The shop records showed that the car
had been brought there on Monday, June
16 — the very day Mildred Hallmark's
body was found! *.
Smith was rushed to Headquarters,
plied with questions—not questions that
directly accused him of the Hallmark
murder, but about his habits, where he
went at night, what he did and the like.
Even one less intelligent than he must
necessarily have gotten the drift of those
questions after the first bewilderment over
where such seemingly. innocuous queries
were tending.
Smith’s face went white as paper.
“My God!” he said, “Surely you don’t
suspect me of killing Mildred Hallmark?”
It was pointed out that no one had ac-
cused him. “As a matter of fact,” he was
told, “we are questioning every man
against whom a girl has complained.”
He grew indignant, denied he ever had
given any girl cause to complain against
him. He demanded the name of his ac-
cuser. We kept him guessing. That was
the idea, keep him guessing what we knew,
soften him up against the moment when
the girl should suddenly and dramatically
be throst before him to say he was or was
ey Bridges who had so brutally treat-
ed her

We were not called upon to stall long.
A fast car had been sent to bring the girl
to Headquarters as she had agreed to do
if we made an arrest. Now someone called
Chief Nussbaum to the door and whis-
pered that she had arrived, had been told
what was expected of her, was prepared
to walk into that room, confront Smith—
and identify him if she became positive
he was her assailant.

Chief Nussbaum returned to his seat,
indicated to the rest of us that the crucial
moment had arrived, then pressed a but-
ton upon his desk.

The door to the outer office was flung
open. Framed in it stood one of the loveli-
est young creatures | ever saw. She came
into the room, stood before Smith, dark
eyes keenly searching his face for a long
moment. Then she turned to Chief Nuss-
baum, and—

What did she say? Was young
Anthony Smith the fiendish rapist of
Peoria, the slayer of Mildred Hall-
mark? Has the investigation emerged
from its blind alley at last? Follow
this story through more of its drama-
tic stages in the next, the November
issue of OFFICIAL DETECTIVE
STORIES, on sale October 1.

Boy Monster (Continued from Page 29)

City, and Richard Cantillon. There were
two indictments, one of Hickman for the
kidnaping and murder of Marion Parker,
and the second of Hickman and Hunt
jointly for the murder of Ivy Toms.

To both charges, the 19-year-old mon-
ster pleaded Not Guilty by Reason of In-
sanity.

The proceedings in court were of no
great interest, save for the testimony of
Eva Hickman, mother of the accused.
She proved that she had been committed
to an insane asylum shortly after the birth
of her son. On more than one occasion
afterwards, she had gone temporarily out
of her mind and threatened to murder her
whole agian 6 She added that Edward, as
he was called, had been an apparentl
still-born child, who had been revived wit
difficulty. His erratic behavior had been
a constant worry to her. Considered bright
at school, he would “fly off the handle” if
disciplined in any way by the teachers.
Upon losing a debate at commencement
exercises, he had ranted and raved for

jays.

In an affidavit, Doctor C. M. McFall,
formerly of the University of California,
declared in part:

“The boy is suffering from dementia
praecox of the mixed type. Periodic in
nature, his excitement periods occur every
ear in the months of June and Decem-
er... 1am positive that the boy is insane,
and has been for the past two and a half
years, | am, furthermore, convinced that
these periods of dementia will become clos-
er and closer together until he goes into
total dementia, after which he will not
live more than two years at the outside,
‘here is no cure for this type of insanity.”

The alienists called by the State took
the contrary view. They were the ones
who convinced the jury. In 36 minutes
a first-degree verdict was rendered, and
Hickman was condemned to death.

He was then tried jointly with Welby
Hunt, and both were given life imprison-
ment for the killing of Toms.

| wish to reaffirm at this point that |
feel Hickman was quite mad. He was not
so obviously crazy as Earle Nelson, for
instance, who operated during the same

ear of 1927 in the Northwest and Canada.

elson entered the apartments of women
at night, raped and murdered them. Fol-
lowing his arrest in Winnipeg, it was dis-

covered that he was an escaped lunatic.
He had not been sterilized in the asylum.
Nor, as we know, had Edward Hickman,
the gangster and gorger on probation, been
given that beneficial treatment.

Once the supreme harm had been done
by Hickman, | suppose there was nothing
else to do with him but send him to the
gallows as an object lesson. | do not op-
pose capital punishment in these extreme
cases, though it is really less a judicial -
punishment than the destruction of a ven-
omous and hateful menace in human form.
The victim so dramatizes himself that he
is scarcely. able to appreciate the meaning
of his fate.

What I want—what every thinking
criminologist surely must want—is to de-
tour the potential lust murderer before he
commits an act that will send him to the
execution chamber. Sterilization of the un-
fit is the most humane and scientific
method of achieving this result. It is in-
teresting to note from statistics furnished
by the German government, that ‘one per-
son out of every 771 in the country has
been called before an examining bent
under the new sterilization law. Of this
number, 93.8 per cent hav ebeen operated.

Germany leads the world in this respect.
Other nations are bound to learn from her.
But we must be careful not to go to fool-
ish extremes such as were attempted in
Bermuda, in May of this year. A legisla-
tive committee recommended that the
island adopt sterilization for mental de-
fectives, persons convicted of criminal
assault, and for the parents of more than
two illegitimate children. The first and
second causes are proper, but the third
would make any State which endorsed it
ridiculous, ~

On October 19, 1928, his appeals for
mercy rejected, Edward Hickman was
hanged at San Quentin Prison. He had
seemed to be fearless and determined to
die brazenly. But when actually on the
way to the scaffold he collapsed. He faint-
ed just before the trap was sprung.

Plunging sideways, he smashed his head
against the side of the gallows. This seems
to have prevented a normal drop, and by
an ironic twist of fate he strangled ‘to
death in much the same manner that he
had ended Marion Parker’s life by choking.

The autopsy showed that his neck had
not been broken by the hangman’s noose.

Scene at the funeral of the murdered girl, showing John Hallmark, Mildred’
comfort his grief-stricken wife, Mildred’s mother, as
mother, is an undertaker’s assistant.

he had to solve it or his days in the department were
over. A number of us who were -under him felt the
same way about our own jobs. So, from the Chief on
down, there had been little sleep for anyone on the
force. A bite to eat was snatched wherever you happened
to be when you grew hungry. You went home only for
a quick bath, a shave, a change of clothes, then back
you went on the job.

Surveying the situation, Chief
Nussbaum saw that much energy was
being expended uselessly through
lack of coordination of the various
branches of authority—the Police,
Sheriff, State’s Attorney, investigators
for the State and State Highway Po-
lice. He got them into a conference
and everyone laid his cards on the
table. An agreement was reached to
center the investigation at Headquar-
ters and center all information there.
Things seemed to go better after that.

The public generally—not just the tipsters, the
rumor mongers and those who were slyly trying to get
somebody into trouble—went into action, too. Letters
and telephone calls began pouring in.

PRESENTLY we became aware that in all this welter

of hopeful effort to help us out, a significant fact
stood out. A dangerous rapist was loose in Peoria!

Just as if a large number of women and girls had
reached a simultaneous decision to sacrifice themselves
if need be to put the slayer of Mildred Hallmark in
the electric chair, so we began to receive reports of
numerous criminal assaults with violence over a period
of two years. We never had heard of them before be-
cause the victims either had been intimidated into
silence or had sealed their lips through shame.

We gladly pledged that their names would not be
revealed in order to loosen their tongues still further.
The newspapers gave a similar pledge. Thus assured
they would not become the targets for gossip, a full
score of women and girls told us of horrifying experi-
ences to which they had been subjected.

Young they were, for the most part; shapely and
good to look upon, the type of girls who never are
quite safe so long as there are men with eyes and
imagination and blunted conscience and a bit of the
beast beneath a thin veneer of civilization. Eager as
these victims were to help, their reluctance at giving
full details was understandable. :

Even I, innured to such things by years of police
work, was deeply shocked by what these despoiled girls
forced themselves to tell. As a husband and father tHey
made my blood boil. ;

Picture the terror of a young girl, a so-called good
girl, to find herself being violated without a chance to
protect herself. Picture her rendered helpless not alone by
greater strength, but with resistance overcome by vicious
blows in the pit of the stomach, or by an arm cruelly
twisted behind her back, or by a muscular forearm
pressed across her throat. Imagine... but the curtain
should be dropped upon such revolting things.

‘fr WAS not in them that we of the police were inter-
ested save as they might lead us not only to the
slayer of Mildred Hallmark, but to every man guilty of
such atrocities. What we were after were other details
that might further our search. Willing as they were, the
victims were hard put to supply them.

Some had been too frightened to take note of the
appearance of thelr assailant; others could) remem

“Even I, Innured to Such Things b
Police Work, Was Shocked Deepl
These Despoiled Girls Had to Tell. As a Hus-
band and Father They Made My Blood Boil"

ber only some one thing which had been impressed
indelibly upon their minds, There were, however, a
number of these trifling things—some feature, some
gesture, some expression, some method of operation—
which made it obvious that among those women and
girls were séveral who had suffered at the hands of the
same man,

From these scraps of information we were able to
build up a rather comprehensive mental picture of what
the man looked like. He was young, of good height,
slender, and had “nice” features and curly hair. He
spoke softly so long as he thought he was going to get
his way Be persuasion, but became rough, threatening
and bruta
use force. A punch to the face was characteristic of
his methods—and Mildred Hallmark had been punched
in the face.

In each case where a similarity existed, his approach
had been the same. Ile had driven up in a car—some
said a sedan, some said a coupe—to a street corner
where a woman awaited a trolley car, just as we be-
lieved Mildred had done. He offered to drive her home.
It was not home, however, that he had taken the one
so unwise as to get in with him, but to some deserted
and shadowy spot. There had followed cajolery, per-
suasive arguments, threats—and, if these failed, vio-
lence. Some of his victims had been terrorized: into sub-
mitting, others had been forced. ‘

In three cases he had given an amazing final twist
to the terrifying experience at his hands. He had com-
pelled his victims to strip entirely, or had stripped them
himself with the aid of a pair of shears, then had com-
pelled them to pose in the nude in the glare of his
car's headlights while he took, or pretended to take,
their pictures with a camera which he said was loaded
with a bighly sensitive film that would record a picture
in any light!

'ITTELL anyone about this and get me into trouble
“and I'll produce a picture to back up my claim
that you posed for it willingly after we had had a few
drinks,” he threatened. i
In every case he had obtained his victim’s. name

‘and address beforehand, and had given one for him-

self... Some of those names—Jerry Miller, Jerry My-
ers, Jerry Smith, Lee Bridges—he had used more than
once, thus further effectively tying some of the as-
saults together as the work of one man.

One report. in particular interested us intensely.
It was a letter that had come to us early in the in-
vestigation, but had received scant attention then. For
one thing, it was unsigned. For another, the experience
it described was so fantastic that it sounded like some-
thing out of a book or the figment of an overly vivid
imagination.

Now, however, that story in every detail almost
was corroborated by the experlences of some of these

s father (in light suit and hatless) doing his utmost to —
they leave the funeral ceremony. The man at the left, also holding Mildred’s
Directly behind the mother, in the checked coat, is Ruby, Mildred’s younger sister

y Years of
y by What

when he discovered that he would have to’

other assault victims who had come forward—the pickup
on a corner, the exchange of names, the start for the
girl’s home, the turning off at a corner near that home,
the swift drive to a lonely spot, cajolery, arguments,
threats, a blow to the jaw, a stripping by force, assault,
the picture-taking climax in front of the headlights.

To this unknown girl who had written us, but had
withheld her name, the rapist had
given the name of Lee Bridges, one
of his previously used aliases. He had
boasted how impossible it was to es-
cape him. He had shown her that
the inside handle of his coupe had
been removed so that the victim
could.not get out her door unless it
was opened from the outside. He
had demonstrated that his gearshift
lever knob had been riveted into
place, so that even a strong girl
could not yank it from the lever
; and use it as a weapon. [t was then
that our correspondent had smashed the glass of the car
door in an effort to reach the outside handle—and was
knocked unconscious for her attempt.

If only we could find this’ girl, we thought! What
an invaluable witness she (Continued on Page 38)

John Hallmark on the porch of his home as i
he reads the extra announcing his daughter's
murder ie,

THOMPSON,

With Peoria, Illinois, Terri-
fied over the Rapist at
“Large, Preying upon Wo-

men— Mildred Hallmark,

Serious Young Innocent, Is

Assaulted and Murdered

The sedan belonging to Gerald
Thompson—with extra rivets
and special locks designed to
keep women captive

By Lew Barker

(Pseudonym for a Member of the
Peoria, Illinois, Police Department

The Prospect Road entrance to Spring-
dale Cemetery. Through this peaceful
roadway a man drove his victim—to

Who Must Remain Unidentified )
As Told to M. T. Moore

What Has Happened So Far—

When the body of Mildred Hallmark, 19 years old
and comely, was found in a ditch in Springdale Ceme-
tery, Peoria, Ill., on June 17, 1935, police quickly con-
cluded that she had been slain by a moron in defense of
her honor. Half of the girl’s cloihes had been torn from
her; her dress, slashed to ribbons by some sharp instru-
ment, was wadded up underneath her arms. The medical
examiner announced that ber neck had been broken by a
blow to the jaw while her throat was held in a strong
grasp and that she had been attached while unconscious.

Checking back on her movements, it was learned
she had worked until 8:30 the night before at a cafeteria,
then had gone to a picture show with a fellow employe,
John McGinnis, who bad put her on a street car that
would take her near her home, and himself had gone to
bis rooming house.

Presently—through letters, Se dag calls and by
word of mouth—it became known that numerous Peoria
women and girls had been attacked in previous weeks
under various circumstances and a general roundup. of
kunown morons and degenerates was ordered. Sifting
through the innumerable tips which came to them, the
authorities concluded that a. dangerous rapist, who
picked girls up in a car under pretense of driving them
home, then terrorized them into submitting to bis or
oa them into compliance, probably was the Hallmark
slayer,

A general description of him—young, slender, rather
sharp featured, curly haired, soft spoken—was agreed
(pon by several women whose experiences had been simi-
‘ar. One of them in particular (her identity still must
»e Rept secret under a solemn pledge given her at the
ime) was especially helpful. She gave police the license

number of the car driven by a man she believed to be
the “Lee Bridges” who had attacked her after persuad-
ing her to get into his car. Tracing him through that
license number, detectives arrested one Anthony Smith.
He answered the general description of the man sought,
but vehemently denied he had done violence to any girl.
Then—suddenly, dramatically—he was confronted by
the girl whose tip had led to his arrest. She stood before
bim, studied him long and earnestly and-— .

OT once during the long moment while that beau-

tiful girl ood before him and studied him care-

NW fully did young Anthony Smith's eyes wander
from her face. Our persistent questioning, realization
that he was under investigation in connection with a
horrible, revolting crime, had disturbed, irritated and
finally angered him. Now a climax had been reached.
He stood to lose or gain much in the next few seconds,
He knew without being told that this girl was there for
the purpose of identifying him as a rapist if she could.

It is in moments of crisis like this that you learn
much from watching closely the reactions of a suspect.
The youth had eyes only for the girl. We of the police
had eyes only for him. Studying his face, | became
aware that upon it there was etched neither fear nor
worry; that he seemed, on the contrary, confident and
unalarmed.

I darted a look at the girl. Her face had gone pale.
She was biting her lips. Her fingers nervously twisted
the handkerchief she held, Her expression baffled me.
Perplexed? Uncertain? Unwilling to say the word that
pe i this youth on the grim journey to the electric
chair

Suddenly she drew a deep breath, her face took on a

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES, November, 1935

ravish—to kill

Who But a Misguided
Moron Would Have Tam-
pered with the Lock of
His Automobile to Keep
His Victims Prisoner Un-

til He Ravished Them?

resolute look and she spoke, low but firmly:

“That is the man!’

Anthony Smith shot bolt upright in his chair. His
hands gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles
showed white. His face went ghastly grey. His eyes
distended. He swallowed hard, as if his mouth had sud-
denly gone dry. ;

“No! My God! No!” he cried in a strained voice.
“IT never saw this girl before ...1 never touched her
... never touched any girl that way... My God! How
can you say that about me?”

ees yes hundreds, of times | have seen men under
similar circumstances. I have heard men who were
guilty and men who were not cry out their denials, shout
their protestations of innocence. Some sixth sense which
every veteran policeman acquires seems to tell you when
they tell the truth and when they lie. That sixth sense
seemed to tell me now that Anthony Smith was innocent.
The girl was mistaken. He was not our man. Once more
we must take up the task of tracking down the murderer
of Mildred Hallmark.

The girl, however (to give her a name, shall we call
her Miss R?) did not weaken. Rather Smith’s outburst
seemed to arouse combativeness in her.

“1 still say he is the man,” she said. “I wouldn't for
the world accuse an innocent man of such a terrible
thing. When I saw this man at a dance, I was sure he
was the one who did that awful thing to me. [ wouldn't
have pointed him out to my friends, put him in danger
of a beating, or worse, at their hands unless | thought
| was right. I still think I am right.”

It was hard not to believe that she was sincere. It
was equally hard to disbelieve young Smith. Somehow
you just couldn’t be convinced that he would commit

an atrocious crime. | think that
is why my partner and | rather
welcomed orders. to go out on
other phases of the Hallmark in-
vestigation and leave further
questioning of Anthony Smith to
Chief Nussbaum and others.

Of my knowledge I do not
know the details of that ques-
tioning, but I do know that his
car was gone over with a fine
tooth comb so to speak, that
some significance was attached to
the finding of stains on the up-
holstery which Smith said he
could not explain and which
ceased to be important when
chemical analysis showed them
not to be blood. Neither had
any inside handles been removed
on the car nor the knob on the
gear shift lever been riveted on,
two features of her assailant’s
car which Miss R had mentioned.

It was perfectly logical that
Smith should not be able to re-
call where he had been on the
night Miss R said she had been
attacked. How many of us, bar-
ring something that stamps it
indelibly on our memories, can
tell where we were on any spe-
cific. date some time in the
past?

AS FOR the night when Mil-
dred Hallmark was. slain,
Smith said he had gone to bed
early, always hard to prove, and
was backed up by his brother,
Orville, who had not seen him
but said he had been annoyed by
Anthony’s snoring.

It was at about this stage of
the investigation that the belief
that Mildred had ridden a Knox-
ville Avenue car to the corner
of California Avenue, as she said
she intended when she left young
McGinnis after seeing a show
with him, received a rude jolt.
Those detectives who had been
trying to dig out some clew
along those four dark blocks be-
tween the corner of Knoxville
and California Avenues and the
Hallmark home were thrown in-

to confusion. . Gerald Thompson, identified as the curly haired

Some suspicion that Mildrea
had not gotten off at California
Avenue had been born when the
crews of cars on the Knoxville Avenue line had one and
all failed to recall her as a passenger and particularly
because all of ‘them were positive they had not stopped
at the California Avenue corner at all late at night. -

Secretly an investigation had been under way of the
possibility that the girl had persuaded McGinnis not to
accompany her to her home for some reason of her own.
Could she have left the Knoxville Avenue car soon after
boarding it because she had an appoiatment to meet
scmeone of whom neither her family nor friends knew?
Could she have met someone on the car who had induced
her to leave it with him? Could she have changed her
mind-about going to California Avenue, fear of those
four lonely blocks that faced her having brought about
a decision to ride a Country Club line ‘car after all?

They were possibilities that were not to be over-
looked, particularly as California Avenue had not yielded
so much as one thing that might have a bearing on the
case. It called for patient plodding investigation all
along Knoxville Avenue and nothing had been turned
up to show it was worth while.

S Nasnocoh oh so far as the police were concerned, the
spotlight began to beat upon a transfer corner at
Knoxville and Pennsylvania Avenues, less than a mile
from where McGinnis said he had put her on the car,
a bare third of the distance to California Avenue.

John Manias, proprietor of a pie shop, owner of an
apartment house at Knoxville and Pennsylvania Ave-

man of soft voice in many women’s complaints

nues, became suddenly aware that a scene he had wit-
nessed on that fatal Sunday night might have a bearing
upon the Hallmark case. For four days he had attached
no importance to it. Now, however, he appeared at head-
quarters and, somewhat apologetic because he feared he
was taking up the time of busy men with a trifle, re-
lated that he had seen the “picking up” of a girl late
at night on the corner opposite his building.

HAD gone to bed about 10:30,” he said. “Some
time later—I don’t know how long because I had
been asleep—I felt the need of more air and got up to
open a window.

“1 stood there for a moment, taking a few deep
breaths at the window. Across the street, on Pennsyl-
vania Avenue about fifty feet from Knoxville Avenue,
a woman was standing, An automobile was at the curb
nearby. Its lights were bright, the motor was running.
A man stood beside it. Apparently he was talking to
the woman. A moment later he took her by the arm
and helped her into the car, which then was driven up
Pennsylvania Avenue, following the tracks of the Pe-
oria Heights carline. There was nothing in the incident
to make me remember it until I just happened to think
that there might be something to it.” -

That was just what we were looking for, something

that might tell us where Mildred Hallmark might have.

left the Knoxville Avenue car, might have gotten into
the automobile which we felt certain had played a role

Gerald Thompson, central

pect,’”’ Nussbaum continued, ‘‘but his face
was too clean for me. So:I dropped over to
where you work tonight to get a look at
you and when I saw you, I figured that
this chap didn’t borrow your car when the
attack was made on the cousin of William
Wade and that this girl was mistaken
when she identified him as the man who
assaulted her.”

WENT to your home and got several

things out of your room that you will
have a hard time to explain away. The first
is your diary. Here it is, and it tells the
story of what you have been doing at night,
after work, when everybody thought you
were home or in the company of that re-
spectable and fine girl you have used to
cever your nightly sex orgies with unwill-
ing victims.”

Nussbaum tossed the diary on the table.
In it were listed the names of thirty girls
he had seduced, willing or otherw!se. The
accounts of these sexual excesses were put
down in chronological order:

“And maybe you can explain these,’
Nussbaum added, tossing an envelope on
the table.

This envelope, taken from Thompson’s

a li mr epi

AMERICAN DETECTIVE

character in this fact story.

room, contained twenty-five snapshots of
nude women, some posed with Thompson
in lewd positions and some merely pictures
of nude girls.

Gerald Thompson looked at them and
shook his head.

“I know nothing about the murder of
Miss Hallmark,” he protested. ‘‘No matter
what other evidence you have on me, I
didn’t kill her.”

And he stuck to that story. An examin-
ation of his trousers disclosed blood stains
and his car was found to have dark spots
on the seat. The. girls mentioned in. his
diary were brought in to identify him, but
he refused to admit any connection with
the Mildred Hallmark murder.

LL through the night, Nussbaum sub-
jected Thompson to a relentless ques-
tioning, allowing only a few hours out for
sleep. All through the next day Nussbaum
worked on him, while detectives checked
up on his story of the murder night.

Early in the afternoon of that day,
Thomas Piper of the State Bureau of
Crime Detection said: ‘The only way you
can break this man down is with a lie de-
tector.””

“It might help,’? Nussbaum agreed.

A lie detector was sent by the North-
western University Crime Detection labor-
atory at Evanston. It arrived the next
morning and Thompson was placed in a
chair and questions asked him. Weak from
the questioning, but still in a fighting
mood, he denied any guilt of Mildred Hall-
mark’s murder.

“WPNAKE a look at this graph,’” Nussbaum
told him. ‘‘It shows that every word
you said has been a lie.”’

Thompson still insisted that he had told
the truth, but when shown the graph from
this statement, he weakened. And then
suddenly his eyes glanced across the room
to a'table, and lying there, stark and mute,
were the torn clothes worn by the murdered
girl.

Thompson wet his lips, and asked for a
drink of water, and then confessed.

According to the police record, Thomp-
son admitted that he had picked Mildred
Hallmark up at a street junction point and
offered to drive her home because it was
raining. She accepted his offer and he
drove through the cemetery, which was
only several blocks from her home.

On the isolated road he stopped and
made advances toward her. She resisted
and started to scream. He hit her on the
side of the head, knocking her unconscious.
Then he attacked her. But she did not re-
vive and he got frightened and pushed her
out of the car,

She fell into the six foot ditch, her neck
striking against the concrete buttress
which broke her neck. After that he drove
home and went to bed.

Outside police headquarters a crowd
had gathered. They knew that Gerald
Thompson was being questioned and there
were mumblings of a lynching. After his
confession, the police spirited Thompson
out a rear.door, and to Bloomington, but
he was taken on to Decatur for safe keep-
ing.

And when he was out of Peoria the
police announced that he had confessed to
the murder of Mildred Hallmark.

With Thompson safely in Decatur jail,
Nussbaum started an investigation of any
possible accomplice of Thompson, but
though certain evidence indicated he had
someone to help him take the. pictures,
there was nothing to connect this second
person with the murder of Mildred Hall-
mark.

‘Thompson was charged with first degree
murder and he entered a plea of not guilty
through his attorney, Ben Thurman, ap-
pointed by the court to defend him. His
trial was set for July second to be held
before Circuit Judge Joseph E. Daily.

A mere scratch on the side of a man’s
face is not much on which to build the
solution of a heinous murder mystery, but
Nussbaum admitted afterwards that this
was the only thing that he had to work on
to solve the crime and that in the end it
was the thing that broke the case.

A small thing it was, when a thirty year
old Chief of Police was facing the first test
of his career, yet Fred Nussbaum, Chief of
Police for only one day when the most
difficult case in the history of Peoria was
thrown in his lap, utilized this vague and
almost impossible clue and came through
his first test triumphant,

crmndy.

TE IRENE EISELE IES LAS EPONA FELLA LTS LTTE GIT IO OO CIE TELE TE LR CREME TELESIS

a6Dr

blocks of her home. It was close to 11:30
when they waved goodbye to her.

What happened after that? Where did
the girl encounter the man who murdered
her?

The answers were supplied by John
Mangan, who lived at the corner where
Mildred would have to get off the trolley
to go to her home. He came to head-
quarters as soon as he learned of the crime.

“It must have been about a quarter to
twelve last night,” he told Chief Nuss-
baum, “when I thought I heard a scream
outside: I looked out the window and
saw a fellow holding a young woman by
the arm and forcing her into a small sedan

which was standing at the curb. After |

they drove away I was going to report it,
but then figured it probably was nothing
more than a quarrel between a youth and
his girl friend.”

As the street lighting was dim, Mangan
was unable to give a description of the
man. Nor was he able to tell the make
of the car. :

The story of the forcible pickup had a
ring which was all too familiar to Nuss-
baum and the other officers. It supported
the chief’s hunch that the brutal Hallmark
murder was the work of the mad _ rapist
who had repeatedly eluded them in the
past.

Because of the victims’ embarrassment
and fear of possible publicity, it was im-
possible to reckon how many women: the
sex fiend had attacked. But in the five
months since the first of the year several
of them had acquired sufficient courage to
come to the police with accounts of
unspeakable brutality.

In every instance the rapist’s modus
operandi was much the same. He cruised
the streets by night, and when he spotted
an attractive young woman strolling alone
or standing at a trolley stop he would pull
up and ask if she wanted a ride.

Sometimes he would disarm suspicion by
claiming to know the girl's husband or
father. But on other occasions, when his
invitations were refused, he would drag
his victim into his small sedan by sheer
force. To prevent escape he had removed

“the handle from the inside of the right

door, and the window was always rolled up
to the top.

Once he had driven to a lonely spot on
the outskirts of Peoria, the fiend forced
his captive out of the car, slugged her
into submission, and forced her to disrobe.
If she disobeyed, he knocked her uncon-
scious and then either ripped off her
clothes or cut them off with a pair of
scissors.

When his bestial appetites were satisfied
he usually took a camera with a flash at-
tachment from his car and snapped a pic-
ture of his victim as she lay nude and
helpless on the ground.

“Now,” he would gloat, “if you make
a complaint to the cops I’ll make sure this
picture is circulated all over town!”

Then he would drive away, leaving a
battered young woman to stagger home or
beg a ride from a passing motorist.

Those victims who had reported the as-
saults weren’t able to give much ,informa-
tion of value to the police. They couldn’t
supply the license number or the make of
the car. They provided only a general
description of the rapist—a man in his

yyy ea

c=
SPIRITED AWAY—

Deputies taking killer from Peoria County Jail for safekeeping out of town.

-early 20’s, of medium height and build,

with dark, wavy hair and dark eyes.

A number of youths answering to this
description were picked up and questioned.
One was. even “positively identified” by
two girls, but was able to establish an
iron-clad alibi. The quest for the rapist
had seemingly reached a stalemate when
his terror reign was climaxed by the
murder of Miss Hallmark.

EVER had Peoria, Illinois’ second
largest city, been so aroused by a crime.
Even before the early afternoon edi-

tions of the newspapers hit the streets
word of the atrocity had spread, and
groups of angry men gathered on down-
town corners to discuss it. A small_crowd
collected outside police headquarters. The

‘investigators realized they would have to

deal with threats of a lynching when and
if the killer was trapped.

In the next few days petitions were cir-
culated in several factories demanding
vengeance. One of the first of these was
passed around in the large Caterpillar
Tractor plant, where John Hallmark

worked. At the top of the list of signers
was the name of Gerald Thompson, a
highly respected young man who was
regarded as a “comer” in his department.

Public indignation spread over the
state. T. P. Sullivan, head of the Illinois
Bureau of Criminal Identification, sent a
lie detector to Peoria to assist the local
authorities. The Northwestern University
Crime Laboratory offered its services. An
analysis of the victim’s fingernail scrapings
in the lab showed definitely that her
assailant had been a white man.

Suspects previously quizzed in connec-
tion with the rape cases were hauled down
to headquarters again. Each was able to
give a satisfactory account of his where-
abouts at the time the murder occurred.

Guided by tips from aroused citizens,
detectives picked up more than two dozen
men who had scratches on their faces or
hands. The careful questioning of these
suspects consumed 36 hours. They ac-
counted for their scratches in many ways.

. Some admitted fighting with their wives or

sweethearts. Others said they had been
involved in tavern brawls. A few declared

DOOMED!—
The slayer

the injuries
or dogs.

In the en
marked me:

Vincent !
voluntarily |
Chief Nusst
emotion, h«
auburn-tress
marry in the

“Where w
slain?” the

“Out on t
that I hadn
than a week

A subs
employer s:
viously the
picion.

“Do you |
been trying |
garet—peste:
on?” Nussha

Pilgrim
shouldn't say
there was a
cafeteria a

r...2

MILDRED HALLMARK— :
This sweet-dispositioned 19-year-old girl was murdered by a sex-crazed fiend.

eee ve

The demon who dtiicled
75 women killed his 76th

victim—and got the chair!

[MP as a rag doll, her arms and legs
sprawling grotesquely, the red-headed
nude lay on her side in a gully beside
the cemetery roadway. The early
morning sun touched her and made

her skin seem as alabaster-white as the
tombstones which marched row upon row
over the slopes. Her lips were slightly
parted, her eyes were closed. She seemed
to be asleep.

But it was death, not slumber, that
claimed the beautiful girl. She was the
76th rape victim of a monster who for
months and years had spread terror in
Peoria, Illinois—the first of his victims to
meet murder in addition to fiendish assault.

Willard McGarvey, a laborer employed
at the Springdale Cemetery, hummed a
popular tune as he drove a team of horses
along the graveled road. It was Monday,
June 17th, and early summer had brought
nature to full bloom. He gazed apprecia-
tively at the lush greensward, the flower-
ing shrubs and the full-leafed elms and
maples,

Then he saw the figure in the gully.

McGarvey leaped off his wagon and
scrambled down the side of the ditch. He
placed a hand on the girl's arm, as if to
arouse her. The flesh was clammy and cold.
He listened: for a heartbeat, could detect
no sign of life. The thoroughly frightened
workman hurried to the cemetery care-
taker’s cottage and telephoned an alarm.

HIEF OF POLICE FRED NUSS-
BAUM, Detectives Charles Welty and
Glen Ford, Sheriff Marcus Olson and

Coroner William B. Elliott soon ‘arrived
at the scene. It took only a brief survey
for them to realize that Peoria’s mad rapist
had struck. again, and this time with fatal
results. The auburn-tressed nude had died
in defense of her honor.

In the turf near the gully were marks
of a fierce struggle. The girl’s clothes were
scattered about—pumps, silk hose, a blue
dress trimmed with lace, slip, panties and
bra. Rips in the dress and undergarments
indicated they had been torn off savagely
by the killer. A purse and a bag containing
knitting lay a short distance from the
corpse.

There was nothing in the purse to iden-
tify the victim, but Chief Nussbaum was
reasonably certain he knew who she was.

“The girl must be Mildred Hallmark,”
he said. “Her father, living over on May-

wood A
port she
She ansv
In his
Scene, C.
mine the
a gash
by a ri
girl—fror
trickled
to be fat
On th
black-and
where th
There we
and elsew
“Tt’s
Nussbaun
the girl |
car. Und
from him
grappled «
into the ¢
terrific be:
she was
purpose.”
Unforti
the roadw
tire tracks
Detect
watering tr
the body
found a p
had _ been
was slaine<
“The bli
have becor
sprmised, ~
off before
Since th
found at t!
the corpse
to the mo:
After a
Coroner F]
red-head h
“She evi
of that ter:
“My opinio
arm with |
with his
occurred ar
There «
the victim
scratched
These wer
analysis.

USSBAL
N and bro

sible th
to be Mild:
Mrs. John
dazed afte
at the mor:
grown daug
identified th

tacked
is 76th

chair!

ns and legs
red-headed
gully beside
The early
r and made
vhite as the
w upon row
were slightly
She seemed

jumber, that
She was the
ster who for
ad terror in
is victims to
ndish assault.
rer employed

hummed a
am of horses
was Monday,
r had brought
zed apprecia-
d, the flower-
fed elms and

the gully.
s wagon and
the ditch. He
arm, as if to
nmy and cold.
_ could detect
zhly frightened
emetery care-
ied an alarm.

RED NUSS-
rles Welty and
cus Olson and
t soon arrived
a brief survey
sria’s mad rapist
time with fatal
| nude had died

ily were marks
rl’s clothes were
ik hose, a blue
Jip. panties and
{ undergarments
rn off savagely
, bag containing
tance from the

1¢ purse to iden-
f Nussbaum was
w who she was.
dred Hallmark.”
ng over on May-

the

wood Avenue, called headquarters to re-
port she hadn’t come home last. night.
She answers to the description.”

In his preliminary examination at the
scene, Coroner Elliott was unable to deter-
mine the exact cause of death. There was
a gash in the scalp—possibly inflicted
by a ring when the killer struck the
girl—from which considerable blood had
trickled. Yet it didn’t appear deep enough
to be fatal.

On the left jaw was a large, ugly
black-and-blue_ welt, marking the spot
where the victim had taken another blow.
There were lesser bruises on the right arm
and elsewhere on the body.

“It’s ‘clear enough what happened,”
Nussbaum said grimly. “The killer drove
the girl here and forced her out of his
car. Undoubtedly she tried to run away

from him, but he caught her and they:

grappled on the grass. They rolled down
into the gully, and he subdued her with a
terrific beating. He probably didn’t realize
‘she was dead until he achieved his
purpose.”

Unfortunately, the graveled surface of

‘the roadway was too rough to retain any

tire tracks.

Detective Welty wandered over to a
watering trough about 15 yards from where
the body lay, and on the edge of it he
found a piece of cloth which apparently
had been torn from a man’s: shirt. | It
was stained with blood.

“The blood from the scalp wound must
have become smeared on the slayer,” he
surmised, “and he stopped here to wash it
off before making his getaway.”

Since there were no more clues to be
found at the scene, the officers removed
the corpse and the articles of torn clothing
to the morgue.

After a more exhaustive examination,
Coroner Elliott announced that the pretty
red-head had died of a broken neck.

“She ‘evidently sustained it as a result
of that terrific blow to the jaw,” he said.
“My opinion is that the killer grasped her
arm with his left hand as he slugged her
with his. right. I’d estimate that death
occurred around midnight.”

There were bits of skin and flesh under
the victim’s fingernails, proving she had
scratched her attacker in the struggle.
These were removed for laboratory
analysis.

USSBAUM called the Hallmark home
and broke the news as gently as pos-
sible that the body of a girl believed

to be Mildred had been found. Mr. and
Mrs. John Hallmark, grief-stricken and
dazed after a sleepless night, appeared
at the morgue accompanied by another
grown daughter, Ruby. They instantly
identified the corpse as Mildred.

“Who could have done this terrible thing
to her!” the mother sobbed. “She was
always such a good girl; everybody loved
hefty eee ‘ M

“Would she have.been likely to accept
a ride from a stranger?” Nussbaum asked.

“Never!” Hallmark replied. “We had
warned her about that many times.”

Through questioning the parents and
friends of. the dead girl, the investigators

‘ were able to piece together her background

and reconstruct her movements in the
hours immediately preceding her doom.
Mildred Hallmark was just 19, and she
had recently been graduated from the
Academy of Our Lady, a Catholic high
school, where she earned excellent marks
and was. universally liked. Her father,
who held a responsible position in the
Caterpillar Tractor Company’s plant, off-

‘THE EXECUTION—

ered to send her on to college and for a
while she considered the idea.

But then she became engaged to a youth
named Vincent Pilgrim, whom she’d known
ever since they were in grade scrool to-
gether. Pilgrim was working as a hired
hand on a farm some 25 miles distant
from Peoria, but he hoped to find a better
job soon. He and Mildred planned to be
married in September. To earn money
which would help them set up housekeep-
ing, the girl went to work in Bishop’s
Cafeteria in downtown Peoria.

On Sunday night, the 16th, Mildred
had to stay on her job until eight o’clock.
Then she went to a movie with a couple
of friends who also worked at the cafe-
teria. Afterward, they walked with her to
a street car stop and watched her board
a car which would take her within a few

Girls in the city of Peoria felt safer when they heard this man was dead.

CEMETERY NUDE

out of town.

f the list of signers
erald Thompson, a
ng man who was
in his department.
spread over the
head of the Hlinois
dentification, sent a
to assist the local
hwestern University
red its services. An
, fingernail scrapings
definitely that her
vhite man.
quizzed in connec-
es were hauled down
Each was able to
count of his where-
he murder occurred.
»m aroused citizens,
nore than two dozen
es on their faces or
questioning of these
6 hours. They ac-
itches in many ways.
ig with their wives or
said they had been
iwis. A few declared

DOOMED!—

the injuries had been inflicted by cats
or dogs.

In the end, every one of the suspiciously
marked men had to be cleared. :

Vincent Pilgrim, Mildred’s fiance, came
voluntarily to Peoria for an interview with
Chief Nussbaum. His voice shaking with
emotion, he confirmed that he and the
auburn-tressed beauty had planned to
marry in the fall.

“Where were you on the night she was
slain?” the chief asked.

“Out on the farm. We’ve been so busy
that I hadn’t been in the city for more
than a week.” .

A subsequent check with Pilgrim’s
employer supported his statement. Ob-
viously the young man was above sus-
picion.

“Do you know of anyone who may have
been trying to press his attentions on Mar-
garet—pestering her for dates and so
on?” Nussbaum demanded.

Pilgrim hesitated: . “Well, maybe I
shouldn't say this,” he finally replied, “but
there was a fellow who hung around the
cafeteria a lot and tried to get her to

The slayer as he arrived under guard to enter a death cell at the State Prison.

go out with him. In fact, [| warned Mil-
dred against him.” 7

The. man's name, Pilgrim said, was
Charles Boland. He thought Boland was
some kind of a salesman. Nussbaum stiff-
ened in his chair as he heard the masher’s
description—in his early 20's, medium
build, with dark eyes and dark, wavy hair.

“This sounds like the best lead yet,”
the chief told Detectives Welty and Ford.
“Find Boland and bring him in as soon
as you can.” :

At the suspect’s home, where he lived
with his parents, the officers were told he
had left on a selling trip to Decatur and
other Cities. .

The detectives gunned their car south
to Decatur, only to learn from his clients
that he had left that community and gone
on to Champaign. From the university
town, the trail: led to Bloomington, Pon-
tiac and Ottawa. At last Welty and Ford
caught up with the salesman-Romeo in
LaSalle.

Boland, whose face was unscratched,
seemed genuinely shocked to hear that he
was wanted for questioning. He agreed

to return with the detectives to Peoria”

immediately.

TATE’S Attorney E. V. Champion and
Sheriff Olson sat in with Chief Nuss-
baum on the questioning. Before the

session got started, however, Nussbaum
had two of the rape victims brought to
headquarters and arranged for them to
view the suspect through a crack in the
door of his office.

“That’s the man!” one of the girls
declared.

The other wasn’t so positive. She said
Boland “looked a lot like” the fiend who
assaulted her, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Of course I asked Mildred Hallmark
for dates,” the suspect told the officers.
“That isn’t any crime, is it? But I cer-
tainly had-nothing to do with her murder.”

“We have reason to believe otherwise,”
Nussbaum said. ‘Miss Hallmark’s con-
tinued refusals made you angry, so on
Sunday night you trailed her in your car
after she left the movie and when she
stepped off the trolley you forced her
into your machine. Isn’t that what
happened?”

Boland uttered an indignant denial.
“What time was she supposed to have
been killed?” he demanded.

“Not long after midnight,” said Prosecu-
tor Champion.

The suspect breathed a sigh of relief.
“That let’s me out, then,” he declared.
“I had a date with a girl friend Sunday
night, and there was another couple with
us. We were drinking beer and dancing
in a roadhouse from half past ten on
until two in the morning.”

The officers subjected him to the lie
detector, which indicated he was telling
the truth. A check with the companions
he named supported his alibi.

Reluctantly the investigators had to re-
lease the salesman, but ordered him to
remain in Peoria for possible further
questioning.

“Another lead fizzled!” Sheriff Olson

“observed after Boland had left. “For all

we know, the killer may not be a local
man. Or if he is, there’s a strong pos-
sibility he has cleared out of Peoria by this
time and is in hiding in Chicago or in
some other big city.”

Nussbaum slowly shook his head. “I
can’t agree with you, Mark,” he said.
“I’m convinced the man who killed Mil-
dred Hallmark is the same man who com-
mitted the long series of assaults, indicating
that he’s a Peoria resident. He has a
colossal amount of nerve and self-con-
fidence. He's the type who would stay
right here, secure in the belief that he’ll
never be detected.”

“At least we have a fair idea of what
he looks like,” Prosecutor Champion put
in. “Judging from the testimony of those
two girls, he must be almost a dead ringer
for Charles Boland.”

The public’s sustained fury against the
unknown murderer was evidenced Thurs-
day afternoon when a huge crowd turned
out to attend Miss Hallmark’s funeral.
Throngs lined the streets as the cortege
passed along the streets from the church
to St. Mary’s Cemetery, where interment
took place.

There were mutterings of violence from
many of the (Continued on page 62)

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 29

onlookers. “The electric chair’s too easy
a way out for a man who would commit
a crime like that,” was an opinion
frequently voiced.

Chief Nussbaum received a call from

a doctor connected with the City
Hospital.

“Chief, we may have the solution for
you in the Hallmark case,” he said ex-
citedly. ‘“There’s a dope addict in the
charity ward here who has passed into
delirium, and he keeps yelling, ‘I killed

ci a few hours after the ceremony

that girl! I killed that girl!”

Nussbaum sent Welty and Ford to in-
vestigate. Questioning of the patient in
his present condition was impossible. They
could only listen to his raving “confession”
and note that he bore no scratches and
was considerably older than the rapist
they sought,

It took some time to establish the man’s
identity. But at last, working with the hos-
pital authorities, the detectives ascertained
his name and address. And at his home,
members of -his family promptly exploded
the hope that: he might, indeed, be the
slayer. On the night of the crime, they
reported, the patient had been in another
hospital, from which he had somehow
escaped. His wild talk of committing
murder was simply the outpouring of a
mind disordered by drugs.

“One more blind alley,” Nussbaum
said when the detectives reported back
to him. “Let’s hope we get a real break
soon, before the slayer can strike again!”

Half a dozen mdre tips came in during
the night and the following morning, but
each of them, upon investigation, proved
to be false. Gloomily the chief began to
wonder if he had been wrong in his theory
about the slayer’s staying around Peoria.
Pehraps he had taken it on the lam. By
this time, more than four days after the
crime, he could be hundreds of miles away.

Then, on Friday afternoon, a middle-
aged man who identified himself as Alfred
Grant walked into headquarters accom-
panied by his daughter Mary, 16.’ After
he told his mission to the desk sergeant
he was immediately ushered into Nuss-
baum’s office.

“I know I should have come to you -

before this, Chief,” Grant said, “but I
held back in fear of publicity which
might ruin Mary’s life. If you promise
her name will be kept out of it I think
we can give you a valuable clue in. the
Hallmark case.” ,
Nussbaum gave his promise, and Grant
revealed that the girl had been victimized
by the mad rapist a few months before.
“It was a sickeningly familiar Story that
Mary Grant told at her father’s urging.
“This man forced me into his car at
night when I was coming home from a
baby-sitting job,” she said. “I tried to
escape, but there was no handle on the
door next to me. He drove out into the
country, dragged me from the car and
knocked me unconscious. When I came
to, he was ripping off my clothes. I strug-

gled and he hit me again. .. .”

When she recovered constiousness a
second time, the girl related, sobbing with
horror at the memory, she was lying on
the ground in front of the car and her
attacker was snapping her picture. He
threatened to send the photo to her friends
eif she complained to the police.

But, unlike the many other victims of
the fiend, Mary Grant had enough pre-
sence of mind to note the license plate
on the small sedan.

“I kept repeating the number over and
over,” she said, “and when I got home
I wrote it down. Here it is.” And she
handed a slip of paper to the chief.

Grateful for .the information, even
though reflecting that Mildred Hallmark’s

life might have been saved had it been.

given to"him sooner, Nussbaum thanked
Grant and his daughter and again assured
them there would be no violation gf his
secrecy pledge.

A phone call to the auto registration
bureau in Springfield quickly revealed that
the license number had been issued to
Gerald Thompson, residing in the 200
block on West Moneta Street, Peoria.

The chief sumoned Welty and Ford.
“We can’t be sure,” he said, “but it looks
as though we’ve really got a straight lead
this time. Pick up this fellow Thompson
and bring him in for questioning.”

The address given, the detectives learned,
was for the home of the grandparents with
whom Thompson lived. The grandmother
said he was at work in the Caterpillar
Tractor plant. Ford and Welty went to
the factory, and at their request a fore-
man called Thompson away from _ his
bench.

The detectives gasped when they saw
him. Hé could have been Charles Boland’s
double!
medium build, with dark eyes and dark,
wavy hair. The description given by the

‘rape victims checked in every particular.

“But you can’t want to talk to me about
the Hallmark murder!” the youth ex-
claimed when the officers told him the
purpose of their visit. “It’s ridiculous!
I know the girl’s father slightly—he works
in another department here—and I was the
first to sign the petition demanding ven-
geance for the killing.”

The foreman took Welty aside.

“What he says about signing the petition
is true,” he confirmed. “What’s more,
Thompson is a good worker and seenis to
have a fine reputation. But, thinking back
on it, he failed to report for work Monday,
the day the body was found. All week
he’s been acting nervous. And if you look
closely you'll see scratches on his cheeks;
he covered.’em with some kind of makeup,
but they still show a little.”

“Check!” Welty said grimly.

He rejoined Ford, and they took the
protesting Thompson to headquarters.
After turning the suspect over to Nuss-
baum and other officers, the two detec-
tives hurried back to the home of Thomp-
son’s grandparents.

First they turned their attention on the

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can’t pin me down there. I had nothing
to do with her.” °.

“We know you. did, Thompson,” Nuss-
baum said. “It won’t do you any good
to claim you got those scratches on your
face while fixing a fence on your grand-
parents’ property. And your signing that
petition calling for vengeance was merely
a Stall to throw off suspicion. You. might
as well tell the truth.”

But hour after hour the prisoner con-
tinued to protest his innocence of the
murder. ‘The flickering needles of the lie
detector showed that he was spinning
one falsehood after another about his .ac-
tivities on the night of the crime. Yet
even this scientific proof did not faze him.

Meanwhile, rumors flew around Peoria
that the murderer was in custody, and
as the night wore on a large crowd gath-
ered outside headquarters. There were
cries of “Lynch him!” and “Don’t let
him go to trial!”

The mob threats accomplished what

the prolonged questioning had failed to

do. Thompson’s defiance collapsed en-
tirely. “All right,” he said, “I did it, just
like you figured. ‘I killed Mildred Hall-
mark. Now for God’s sake get me out
of here!”

A heavily armed cordon of officers
spirited him out a back door and south
to the jail at Springfield for safekeeping.
En route he muttered over and over: “I
didn't mean to kill her. It was an
accident. . . .”

But the “accident” of slugging his 76th
rape victim too hard was interpreted as
first degree murder when a jury heard the
case late in July. A few months later—
on October 15, 1935—Gerald Thompson
paid the supreme penalty in the electric
chair at the State Penitentiary in Joliet,

Illinois.

Epiror’s Note: To spare embarrass-
ment to persons innocently involved in
the investigation of the Mildred Hallmark
murder ‘case, the names Charles Boland,
Alfred Grant and Mary Grant are fictitious.

HELL’S HOLLOW

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 20

Clark nodded sadly. He stood up,
walked over to a wall bookcase, fumbled
about for a moment, then returned with
a thick volume. He leafed through it and
found the page for which he was search-
ing.

“. . . Ideas of being talked about,” he
read softly, “all of which are common
experiences in the daily lives of everyone,
assume a special terror for him. Such
things happen to him all the time and
wherever he is, and anyone and everyone
may be responsible.”

He glanced up from the page. “Is that
a description of Ben?”

She nodded: nervously,

“He is characterized by tenseness, quick
suspicion, ready anger, and the inability to
maintain a successful personal relation-
ship for any length of time,” Clark con-
tinued, ©

“He rapidly becomes dissatisfied with
progress in a job, and tends to make fre-
quent changes, both of jobs and type of
work. Or he moves to a new. community
where is momentarily convinced .he will
have a better chance.”

He closed the book and laid it. on his
desk. .

“Is that a description of Ben?” he asked.

“Yes,” she agreed tonelessly. ;

“It’s a description of a paranoic—a dan-
gerously advanced stage of mental illness.”

“What can I do for him?” Nadine asked.

“Take him to a good psychiatrist,”
Clark said. “Perhaps treatment alone will
help; perhaps he will need to be hospital-
ized. Unless you do so, I warn you, you
‘are in grave danger.”

“Only I can take care of Ben,” she said
quietly. :

After her visit to Clark, Nadine knew
no moment of peace. She felt no fear
for herself. Her husband was a sick man—
sick in mind if not in body. She had to
Protect him from himself. And from that
moment on, her life was clouded by the

shadow of tragedy, and the fading hope
that Ben’s condition would improve with-
out hospital treatment. :

Early in 1947, Ben went to work for
the Diamond Alkali Company in their
caustic department. Although the position
was a responsible one, he had little con-
tact with the other employees, and he did
a good job there, staying for more than
four years—until less than three months
before the tragedy of April 6th. ’

During this four year period, except for
random references to enemies whom he
suspected of plotting against him, and the
“wrong kind of men” he feared had designs
on Nadine, Ben appeared normal and well.
He had found, it seemed, Stability at last.

Nadine, certain that Ben was now on
the road to recovery, tricked him early in
January, 1951, into Visiting the office of
Dr. F. E. Merritt, psychiatrist.

His diagnosis dispelled her last hope.

“Psychoneurotic,” he said,-“with indica-
tions of an advanced stage of paranoia.
It would be better for everyone concerned
if he were committed to an asylum.”

Nadine Meyers repeated the words she
had spoken to George Clark some four
years before. “Ben is my responsibility,”
she said. “Only I can take care of him.”

On the 19th of January, Ben asked for
sick leave from his job. He needed a
change, he told Nadine. He wanted to be
alone for a while; he said, and to get away
from things. He was going to Alabama
for a vacation, and he would stay with
relatives there. ;

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Nadine
said. She kissed him fondly. “I'll take
care of everything.”

Ben Meyers was gone for approximately
three months. Nadine, true to her promise,
took care of everything. She had the re-
sponsibility of caring for her children and
maintaining the Valentine Road house in
Thompson where they lived. To be sure
of a roof over their heads, Nadine had to

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garage and found the small sedan which
bore the telltale license plates. There
was no handle on the inside of the right
front door! The
which looked suspiciously like blood. A
pair of scissors was tucked away in the
glove compartment.

Most significant of all, the detectives
retrieved a camera with a flash attach-
ment from the back of the car.

Inside the house, Ford and Welty
‘concentrated on Thompson’s room. In a
dresser drawer, buried under odds and
ends of clothing, they found two cardboard
boxes crammed with photographs.

The pictures in the first box were all of
pornographic variety, apparently made by
professional cameramen.

‘ “This is a swell collection for a young
fellow with such a fine reputation!” Welty
observed.

The photos in the second box also were
of girls and women in the nude. But
they were amateurish, evidently made by
Thompson himself, and had been taken
by flashbulb lighting. Without doubt they
were the pictures of the rape victims!

In addition to the photos, the officers
came across a diary which contained
cryptic entries for many of the dates on
which sexual assaults were known to
have been committed.

ORD and Welty rushed back to head-
quarters with their evidence and found
that, in the meantime, Thompson had

by *

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smoothly parried all questions put to him.
On the night of the crime, he said, he had
been at a movie with his “steady girl
friend.” But when Sergeant Harvey Cole
contacted this girl, she declared Thomp-
son had dropped het off at her home at:
10:45—giving him plenty of time to pick
up Miss Hallmark at the Maywood Avenue
trolley stop.

While State’s Attorney Champion, Sher-
iff Olson and other officers looked on,
Chief Nussbaum shoved the diary and the
boxes of pornographic pictures in front
of the prisoner. “What have you got to
say about these?” he demanded.

“All right,” Thompson said resignedly.

“As long as your men found those, I |

might as well admit I’ve raped a lot of
women—but that doesn’t prove I killed
Mildred Hallmark.”

Under the prodding by the investigators,
he launched into a detailed account of
his “conquests,” .and from time ‘to time
he refreshed his memory by consulting
his infamous diary.

“I started assaulting girls when I was
still in my teens,” he boasted, “and have
kept accurate account. Since the first of
this year, especially, I have been lucky
in’ my attempts. My score reached the
grand total of seventy five.”

The investigators were. aghast at the
recital, but after a moment Prosecutor
Champion managed to ask: “And the
76th. was Miss Hallmark?”

“Oh, no!” Thompson countered. “You

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He chuckled as he re-read the accounts of his:

crimson deeds... He thought he had outwitted the
police, even when his terrible mission includ-

ed murder... But—

OR MORE THAN twenty years Mr. by Harry Arthur Life was spread before her and

and Mrs. John Hallmark knew

peace and tranquillity. They
had two beautiful daughters, a lovely home—and, each other.
Of course their happiness couldn’t be complete unless all
was right with their girls. It was for them that they lived,
worked and worried.

Mrs. Hallmark was a typically American mother; young
enough to be companion and confidant to her daughters as
they developed into maidenhood. She laughed with them,
discussed their girlish problems, and gave them the benefit
ot her wisdom and understanding.

The children grew up in an atmosphere which was full
of love and beauty. So, when tragedy entered their modest
household, they were wholly unprepared for it. That the
tragedy was made more poignant by the manner in which
they lost one girl, will be seen as these pages unfold.

At nineteen Mildred Hallmark was as attractive as she
was bright. Her disposition was sunny, and the sun was
in her raven hair, her smile and complexion. It was joyous
to be in her company. Her parents’ hearts were filled
with a just pride.

As a student at the Academy of Our Lady, she far sur-
passed her classmates in intelligence, and graduated with
honors. Mr. and Mrs. Hallmark knew the thrill that can
only come to parents when it was announced that Mildred
had finished school with the highest marks.

RELATE ete a . : *

she was anxious to taste of its ex-

periences. Economic conditions did
not dampen Mildred’s spirits. She was ready to meet any
ups and downs that might come along. If she couldn't,
for the time being, get a position in an office, then she
would take the next thing that was open.

Impatient to earn her own money and buy the little
things so dear to a girl’s heart, Mildred took work as a
waitress at the Bishop Cafeteria. It was only temporary
as far as the pretty honor student was concerned, for she
was keeping an eye open for work more suited to her train-
ing and intelligence. But in whatever Mildred did she was
happy. She knew the adulation of her friends and their
eagerness to be in her company.

Because she was beautiful, Mildred naturally attracted
the attention of young men. She never lacked escorts when
it came to dances or shows.

Her boy friends gave her the respect she demanded.
Modern, up-to-date, Mildred drew the line as far as “play-
ing around” was concerned. It was not in her make-up to
run around wild as many girls of her age are wont to do,
While she gave her friendship to a few young men, she
had a “special feeling” for one chap in particular. He
lived in Paxton, Illinois, some distance from her home.
Vincent Pilgrim was his name; a fine-looking, serious fel-
low, to whom she kept up a steady correspondence.

wien. - 4

-_,

fact, even on Saturday nights—a big night in big city
or small—she came home at a respectable hour. She knew
her mother and father would sit up and wait for her until
she came. Beihg thoughtful and not wanting to cause them
concern, Mildred always told her mother when to expect
her.

And so when, on the morning of June 16, 1935; Mildred
told her mother that she might attend a movie after work,
her parents knew that she would arrive home immediately
after the show.

Mrs. Hallmark became restless as eleven o’clock ap-
proached and there was no sien of her daughter. She
mentioned her fears to her husband, but he assured her
that Mildred would be along any minute; probably had
stopped off for a soda.

An hour dragged by and still they heard no sound of
Mildred’s footsteps. The clock became a dread thing to
look upon as twelve-thirty came and went, then one.

Ruby, another daughter who had remained at home that
night, tried to comfort her mother, but the expression in her
eyes showed that she was worried too.

Mr. and Mrs. Hallmark could stand the suspense no
longer, and left the house to look for Mildred up and down
the streets. They returned in a state of collapse.

“John, I’m afraid. I’m afraid something has happened to
her. Our girl never stayed out this late,” cried Mrs.
Hallmark.

Her husband patted her shoulder, but could find no words
of cheer, as he was beginning to crack under the strain him-
self. However, he convineed her that she and Ruby best
go to bed and he would wait up.

Me WAS NOT IN THE habit of keeping late hours, in

Fe A HALF-HouR Mrs. HALLMARK and her daughter
tossed in bed, but sleep would not come. Finally, she
jumped up and ran to her husband who sat bowed in grief.
“John, John,” she screamed. “Our baby. Something has
happened to our baby! Why isn’t she home? Oh, John,
I’m afraid she’s dead!”
“Flush,” whispered her husband. “You mustn’t say that.

An officer (left) looks at the beau-
tiful girl's clothing which was
found near her body. The devil
tipped her clothes as she strug-
gled, and then flung them away
in his haste to leave the scene.

She’s all right; she'll be home
any minute. Now, darling, go
to bed.”

But the mother cried for
her baby. The night was in-
terminable as they sat listen-
ing for the slightest sound
that might mean the return
of Mildred.

Hallmark peered out into
the darkened streets. Rain
and a stiff breeze chilled the
house.

“Ts a bad night: maybe
she was in an automobile ac-
cident,” the father suggested.

“No, John, I’m sure it isn't
that,” his wife replied. “I
don’t know why, but I have
a feeling it’s something worse
than an accident.” She shud-
dered as she pointed to her
heart. “I feel it here. My baby is dead !”

Hallmark turned away; he could not bear that look of
agony on his wiic’s face. He too, feared that something
worse than an automobile accident had happened. The
police would have notified them if such was the case.

Gray streaked the sky when Ruby Hallmark began call-
ing Mildred’s friends. They were startled at the news that
Mildred had not been heard from, but none had any heart-
ening news. The Police Department was notified, and
they took down the missing girl's description.

There was nothing to do but wait.

* 6 *
fae 17, 1935, DAWNED FRESH and fragrant. The rain had
washed everything clean and made the grass look greener.
A pleasant breeze whipped the air as William McGarvey.
a laborer employed at the Springdale Cemetery in Peoria
Illinois, drove his team along the graveyard trail known
as Valley Road.

McGarvey whistled as he passed the headstones that
gleaned in the early morning sun. There was nothing mel-
ancholy in the neat rows of tombstones at this hour. Mc-
Garvey was too busy to contemplate on the spookiness that
most people associate with graveyards. His business was
to tend the grounds and keep the earth above the dead green
and growing. That he did well, and it was with satisfac-
tion that he looked over the grounds.

He stcered his team of horses into a wilder, more remote
section of the cemetery.

“Giddap, old boys,” he spoke to his horses, “Giddap'
But the horses suddenly stopped short. “Hey, what's this?
I said, ‘Giddap.’” MeGarvey’s voice rose clear. All was

quiet as he tried to steer the horses back on their course, but
they stubbornly shied away from a ditch beside the road.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked the horses as
though expecting them to reply.

Not being able to understand the trouble, McGarvey go!
off the wagon to investigate the mystery of the horses’
behavior. As he stepped alongside the ditch a flash of
plaid caught his cye. Walking over to the article he no-
ticed it was a girl's coat.

“Funny place for that coat to be,” he said to himself. A
closer look froze further thought. The blue plaid garment
partly covered the semi-nude body of a young firl, lt
was the girl’s stiff, unnatural position that convinced Mc-
Garvey she was dead.

Shaken by the sight, McGarvey sprang into his wagon
and whipped his team into action. When he reached the
cemetery barn he called the Peoria Police Department.

Lye Ciuartes Wetty, Harry Whittaker, Glenn
Ford and a few other officers under the direction of
Acting Police Chief Fred Nussbaum, accompanied by
coroner’s and sheriff’s officers, raced to Springdale in rec-
ord time.

“T bet it’s that Hallmark girl,” one of the detectives spoke,
ig a hunch. “Her folks are frantic. Say their kid
never stayed out all night before.”

“LT hope it isn’t Mildred Hallmark,” another said, “although
it sounds mighty like it might be her.”

What prompted these words was the fact that the Hall-
mark home was only four blocks distant from the cemetery.

It took one glance at the blue plaid coat to convince the
officials that the victim was Mildred Hallmark. Her sister
had described the garment over the telephone.

The dead girl was crouched in a half-sitting position at
the bottom of a ditch. It was obvious that she had been
pushed from the enbankment.

Clarence P. Scott, cemetery superintendent, had twice
driven by the Valley Road that morning, but missed seeing
the corpse as he was seated in a position that cut off view
from the ditch.

The torn clothing told a mute story. It had been ruth-
lessly ripped from her form, a torn brassiere and shreds of
panties being all that remained on the body. Her white lace
dress was wadded under her arms. Her stockings crumpled
over her bare legs. White slippers were thrown into the
wet sand beside a small creek which trickled along the bot-
rom of the ditch and flowed out through a culvert in the
retaining wall.

ar the body were Mildred’s white felt hat, her purse
¢ a watch which was still running, and a package
of knitting materials and a partly finished sweater.

This much the detectives observed in the first few min-

t the scene of the crime. The ripped clothing in-
dicated the work of a beast; the scattered articles in the
ditch showed that they had been cast in hurriedly after the
body; and that the killer was frightened, anxious to get

utes a

away.

Se: CAUSE OF DEATH WAS Not readily determined. There
was a livid bruise on the chin, as well as a laceration
on the scalp from which a large amount of blood had
trickled down over her shoulders and stained the dress
now wadded under her arms.

“The cut might have been caused when her head struck
the retaining wall,” suggested Detective Welty, pointing to
a sharp-edged concrete barrier.

“Tt's my guess that her neck was broken by the blow on
the chin.” said Dr. E. C. Burhans, coroner’s physician, who
looked over the body.

The subsequent autopsy bore out this belief. Dr. Bur-
hans determined that the slayer had clutched Mildred’s
throat with his left hand and struck her on the chin with his
right fist; her head snapped backward with such force that
the neck was broken. The cut on the head, in the doctor’s
opinion, was not serious enough to cause death.

While still alive, Mildred had been criminally assaulted,
according to Dr. Burhans’ findings.

It was estimated that death had occurred from four to
five hours before the body was found. There had been a
shower at about three o’clock Monday morning, and, since

the plaid coat and other articles found with the body were
only slightly damp, detectives surmised that the crime must
have occurred after the downpour.

While the bruised body of the attractive, auburn-haired
victim rested on a cold slab in a mortuary, detectives emptied
out her purse in the office of Coroner William B. Elliott.

HERE WAS NO MONEY, YET the robbery theory had already
been discarded, since a small diamond ring had not been
removed from her finger. The purse contents included a
handkerchief, the watch, a comb, a few sticks of gum, a
vanity case and a box of rouge, a lipstick—all the usual
things carried by a girl.
Besides, there was an unmailed letter addressed to Vin-
cent Pilgrim, the Paxton youth with whom Mildred had

William McGarvey (above), an employe of the Springdale Cemetery,
was the first to see the battered remains of the missing girl.

Tilowpson GEKD op {LIP (STE RS

Beautiful Mildred Hallmark (above) was brutally murdered by the
"Devil Who Kept a Diary" of his crimson deeds. A letter addressed
to her friend, Vincent Pilgrim (opposite page, top right), was found
in her purse. The young man aided the police as best he could.
Mildred's slayer (opposite page, lower right) was unmasked as the
despoiler of many girls. A police officer leoster] examines the cul-
vert in which the honor student was found.

F nee ort

Perey Bie eee

Ss a

In custody and handcuffed, the killer

is escorted to jail after an anonymous

telephone call put the finger of sus-

picion on him. For years, his diary

revealed, he had been assaulting
young girls.

ports from several householders
that they had seen a rough-look-
ing stranger lurking about their
homes.

Secondly, Acting Chief Nuss-
baum was notified that a youth
who formerly lived in Peoria,
had recently escaped from an
institution tor the insane in De-
troit and was believed heading
back into Illinois. If the lad
were mentally unbalanced, as
the Detroit authorities claimed,
and had returned to his old
haunts. he might logically be
considered a suspect. But this
possibility. went glimmering
when he was taken into custody
at Clinton, Illinois, and it was
proved that he had not been in
Peoria.

Vincent Pilgrim, deeply af-
fected by the tragedy, arrived
in the city from Paxton on
Tuesday. While he declared he
could think of no one who might
have harmed Mildred, he did tell
the police of an unwanted suitor
who had been importuning her for “dates.”

This admirer was mentioned in the last letter Pilgrim
received from Mildred. She said he had dropped into the
cafeteria to speak to her. Pilgrim quoted Mildred as saying
she did not like the other youth because he “had bad habits.”

It looked like a real lead, but when officers arrested the
new suspect he was able to establish an iron-clad alibi.

Peoria now was thoroughly aroused over the brutal slay-
ing. Newspapers began popular subscriptions to raise re-
wards for the arrest and conviction of the killer. Citizens
turned amateur detectives and dug furiously for leads.
The police were deluged with clues; detectives in squad
cars dashed to every part of the city to run down tips. In
some quarters there was talk of mob vengeance if the mur-
derer were apprehended.

One report told of a man washing out the interior of his
sedan at a house on Johnson Street. He was arrested, and
his car, a ragged silk slip and a jar of gasoline were seized.
He was able to give a satisfactory explanation of why he
was removing spots from the auto upholstery, however.

Another call supplied the information that a man with a
bandaged hand was making strange inquiries at a North
Jefferson Avenue barber shop. When the detectives ar-
rived, he had departed. Two youths were quizzed at Head-
quarters because they had taken their car to a paint shop
for repainting and anonymous persons detected “blood-
stains” on the machine. They were released after proving
that their activities on Sunday night were above suspicion.
Employes at the cafeteria were grilled, also a suspected
“Peeping Tom” and a half-dozen others. But all were able
to prove their innocence,

A hundred clues were leading nowhere. On Wednesday,
when Mildred Hallmark’s remains were lowered into a grave
in St. Mary’s Cemetery, the police apparently were no closer
to a solution than they were in the beginning.

Acting Chief Nussbaum and the other investigators

turned to science for aid. Particles scraped from beneath
the victim’s fingernails were sent to the Northwestern Uni-
versity Crime Laboratory for analysis. If Mildred scratched
her attacker in fighting’ for her life, the particles might
reveal whether the slayer were white or colored, young
or old. It also was planned to send her clothing to the
laboratory.

Governor Henry Horner placed the resources of the State
Bureau of Criminal Identification and Investigation at the
disposal of the Peoria authorities. T. P. Sullivan, chief of
the bureau, and two assistants, F. J. Figuerra and Fred
Imbau, came to Peoria and brought a lie detector to aid
detectives in quizzing suspects.

The various agencies working on the case were coordi-
nated to operate as a single unit with headquarters at the
City Hall. Acting Chief Nussbaum, Sheriff Marcus Olson,
Prosecutor Champion and Coroner Elliott comprised the
“board of strategy” in charge of the investigation.

© ee THERE HAD BEEN numerous attacks on Peoria girls
which had not resulted fatally, was proved by the flood
of information received at the City Hall headquarters. Scores
of young women had been victimized by rapists, but until
the Hallmark murder they were so afraid of publicity that
they failed to report the crimes.

The deluge of tips continued to pour in. An anonymous
letter left at the stamp window of the Peoria post office gave
a detailed description of a man supposed to be the killer.

“T was at the public library at eleven this morning,” the
unknown author wrote, “and the man was acting very trou-
bled. He watched everyone who came in. He stood at one
of the windows and seemed to be talking to himself. I and
another man talked about the murder; this man grew nerv-
ous and could not stand still.

“T looked at his shoes. At the toe of his left foot there
was a red spot. At the heel of his (Continued on page 08)

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Tractor plant in East Peoria. It took only
a few random inquiries among his ac-
quaintances to establish the fact that his
reputation was not above suspicion, From
two young men came the information that
they had been “laying” for Thompson,
eager to punish him for an assault he made
on a Peoria girl.

The investigators went to the West Mo-
neta Avenue address and in Thompson’s
room found an incriminating little black
book—a diary which listed criminal as-
saults upon sixteen young girls.

“Looks like he’s our man!” exclaimed
Detective Welty, thumbing through the
book. “Whew! This stuff should have
been written on asbestos !”

Each attack had been described minutely
and in glowing terms. Ample proof that
Thompson was a “love wolf” who preyed
on unwary girls! Still, there was no no-
tation of the attack that resulted in the
death of Mildred Hallmark. Rapist though
he was, Thompson might be entirely inno-
cent of the slaying. ;

“Sure, maybe he doesn’t know a thing
about it,’ Detective Ford said, “but these
certainly look like bloodstains to me igi

He held out a pair of trousers found
hanging with Thompson’s other clothes,
and pointed to some spots on the garment.
The stains were on the lower part of the
legs and on the cuffs. ;

Welty whistled. “Let’s go !” he told his
partner.

NVESTIGATION of Thompson’s background

and the search which resulted in the
finding of the diary and the spotted trou-
sers had consumed several hours. It was
near midnight by the time the detectives
went to the East Peoria Police Station,
picked up two night patrolmen to accom-
pany them, and went to the Caterpillar
plant, where they made their mission
known to Sergeant Frank Reilly of the
company police.

Reilly, after a check, informed them that
Thompson worked the second shift at the
plant and would be leaving work about
twelve-thirty.

A supervisor went into the tool room
and informed the youth that he was wanted
outside. Later he said Thompson was
“nervous as a cat” as he washed up and
remarked, “I wonder what they want with

Then the suspect was confronted by the
police officers.

“T know what you want with me,” he
blurted. “If I hadn't tried to pick up that
girl, I wouldn’t be ina jam.”

“What do you mean by that?” Welty
demanded.

Thompson sidestepped the question, re-
fusing to elaborate on his strange remark.

But a little later, informed that he was
being arrested for questioning in the Hall-
mark case, he exclaimed, “My God, what
will these people think of me! Why, her
pe works in the same department I

o!”

Was this a confession of guilt? Or was
it the natural reaction of an innocent per-
son dragged into Peoria’s most shocking
murder mystery? Many other youths had
received unfavorable newspaper publicity
because they had been picked up during
the course of the investigation.

The victim’s father and Thompson
worked the same shift at the Caterpillar
plant. Their benches were only a short
distance apart.

Carl Kemp, tool-room foreman, revealed
that Thompson had been at work regularly
since the tragedy. He was on the job as
usual Monday night, immediately after the
body was found, and again on Tuesday,
Wednesday and Thursday nights. He went
about his duties calmly while other em-
ployes talked excitedly of the atrocity in

Springdale. It was recalled that he gave
twenty-five cents toward flowers for the
funeral of the victim.

Detectives Ford and Welty took their
prisoner back to Peoria Headquarters,
where other officers joined them in start-
ing a long session of questioning.

Career Tuompson told the inquis-
itors of his movements on the night
of the crime.

“T took my girl to the movies—I've been
going with her for four years—and drove

er to her home around eleven or 11:30,”
he said. “We talked for a while, then HT
drove to my home where I live with my
grandparents, and went to bed. ... I nev-
er knew Mildred Hallmark. Why, I felt
as badly about the killing as anybody else
when I read about it in the newspapers.
In the shop they passed around a petition
demanding vengeance, or something like
that, and I was one of the signers.”

Prosecutor Champion, taking the lead in
the quizzing, sought to put Thompson off
his guard by encouraging him to talk of
other things than the crime. He drew out
the information that the youth had lived
in Peoria for five years, having lived prior
to that time in Quincy, Illinois, where he
attended grade school and two terms of
high school. (Thompson said he had
worked at the Caterpillar plant ever since
his arrival in the city, with the exception
of a few months in 1934 when he was em-
ployed at the Bemis Bag Company.

Suddenly the inquisitors shoved the in-
criminating diary under Thompson’s nose.

“My God! Where did you get that?”
he demanded.

“Never mind—but this is enough to in-
volve you pretty deeply. If you've com-
mitted the attacks listed in this book, you
wouldn't hesitate to kill a girl who resisted
you or threatened to expose you.”

Little by little, Thompson was led to
talk about his fiendish “love wolf” activi-
ties. Still denying any connection with the
Hallmark case, he nevertheless boasted of
the sex adventures which, he admitted, had
extended over a period of seven years.

“T got away with it the first time,” he
explained, “and I noticed that nobody made
any kick, so I tried it again and it was the
same way.”

He revealed proudly that he had a regu-
lar “system” in preying on girls. He dem-
onstrated the “hoid” he used to lock a
victim’s arms and make her helpless. He
had removed the inside handle on the
right hand front door of his car so that
girls could not open it and leap out, and
he had riveted the shift lever knob to pre-
yent its possible use as a weapon of defense
against him.

Several times, he declared, he forced his
ravished victims to stand nude in the rays
of the car’s headlights so that he could
photograph them. Then if they threatened
to report to the authorities, he asserted he
would circulate the pictures.

“T always liked to get married women
best,” he told the astounded inquisitors,
“because they fight harder.”

He confessed he had posed in the nude
with girls while a friend took photographs
which later were sold to the distributors
of “sex novelties.”

BW QUESTIONING went on relentlessly
hour after hour. He was asked how the
bloodstains had got on his trousers, and
how he had received a scratch on the: chin
and teeth marks on his thumb.

“Oh, I had quite a fight with a girl I
picked up: the early part of last week,”
Thompson responded, “That was three or
four nights before Mildred Hallmark was
killed.”

When discrepancies were pointed out in

his alibi, he offered glib explanations or
simply shrugged his shoulders and defied
his accusers to prove that his story was
untrue, The quizzing continued through
the night with practically no interruption.
Finally, tqward noon on Prides, he showed
the first signs of weakening, and was sub-
mitted to the lie detector.

While the instrument recorded his reac-
tions, he was forced to go over his whole
story again.

He was asked the direct question: “Did
you kill Mildred Hallmark?”

The answer was “No,” but the jagged
raph of the lie detector showed a sudden
eap both in pulse and respiration.

This ordeal over, he was placed in a cell
for a brief respite. The inquisitors were
certain now of his guilt. Prosecutor Cham-
pion and Chief Nussbaum dropped every
other phase of the investigation.

When questioning was resumed the au-
thorities hit upon a dramatic bit of. strat-
egy. Without warning, they cast before
him the blood-stained dress, the ripped un-
dergarments and the crumpled hat Mildred
had worn when she met death.

“Take them away!” Thompson screamed,
shielding his eyes. “My God, I don’t know
how you can expect me to stand that!”

He slumped in his chair, defeated.

There was a tense moment of silence.
Then—

“Oh, my poor grandmother, my poor
grandmother !” the prisoner sobbed.

“Don’t you think you’d better tell us ex-
actly how it happened?” Prosecutor Cham-
pion asked. “It won't help you to hold out
any longer... .”

“Atl right, I did it! But you know I
didn’t mean to kill her; you know that,
don’t you?”

Completely unnerved, Thompson began
his confession.

E HAD TAKEN his girl friend home he
said, and was taking a circuitous route
to his own home when, at the corner of
Knoxville and Pennsylvania Avenues, he
saw Mildred Hallmark waiting for a street
car. She had left the Knoxville car there
to transfer to a Heights car that would take
her closer to her home.

Thompson, according to his statement,
pulled up to the curb and invited the girl
Ne ride with him. At first she ignored

im,

“Tf you’re going out toward the Heights
I can take you,” the youth told her. “I’m
going out that way myself.”

Apparently reassured, Mildred got in the
front seat. To allay her suspicions, he
drove in the direction of her home, but,
coming to the cemetery, he turned off the
street, into the Prospect Road gate, and
on to a secluded spot near a pond where
he parked.

“I tried to pet her, and I kissed her,”
Thompson said. “I had to hold her. She
didn’t want me to kiss her. I told her I
wanted to love her. She said she did not
want to.” ;

Finally he half dragged her into the back
seat. “If you can talk me out of this back
here,” he told her, “I’ll let you go home.

“Then I tried to succeed in a nice way,”
the prisoner confessed. “I did lots of talk-
ing and finally tried to force her by hold-
ing her arms behind her back. She started
to scream. I choked her to keep her from
screaming, and then I let loose of her
throat and she bit me on the left thumb.
I jerked my hand away and she scratched
me... . This made me mad. I hit her on
the jaw and she lay back in the seat. Then
I attacked her.”

When the girl failed to revive Thompson
became panic-stricken.

“At first I thought I would undress her
and hide her clothes somewhere so she

of the officers connected with the case soon
were satisfied that the two women knew
nothing of Cook’s horrible nocturnal activi-
ties.

HE HAD TOLD THEM that he was working
nights at the print shop, which ex-
plained his absences after dark, and cov-
ered up the fact that he had lost his job
there months before.

We had almost concluded our search of
Cook's home, when we found what I had
been looking for most of all. Wrapped in
some old clothing were the worn sneaker
shoes that had put us on the killer’s trail.
They matched in every detail the six or
eight plaster casts of their prints in my
possession.

Beyond expressing perfunctory regret
over Miss Sosoyeva’s death and saying that
he had not intended to kill anyone, Cook
has shown little remorse for these three
unspeakably cowardly and depraved crimes.

“T knew I would get caught some time,
but something impelled me to go on doing
these things,” he declared. “I’m ready to
take my punishment, even if it means the
gas chamber.”

We had the slayer’s signed confession,
but confessions have been repudiated. So
we called to our aid in clinching the Cook
case, an innovation in police work inau-
gurated by Chemist Ray Pinker and Cap-
tain Harry Doyle, former head of the Iden-
tification Bureau. Their innovation, for
which police organizations everywhere
should be grateful, is the use of sound
movies for recording the re-enactment of
crimes.

Using the technical apparatus they had
perfected, and with their assistance, I made
600 feet of film, a vital 250 feet of which
is with sound. The star of this film, ap-
parently enjoying his appearance before the
police camera, is D. C. Cook. Aided by
newspaper women who posed as his various
victims, we fully re-enacted his assaults on
Anya Sosoyeva and Delia Bogard.

Ik THESE PICTURES, always with calloused
disregard and at times with an apparent
enthusiasm, Cook demonstrated by word
and pantomime how he struck down the de-
fenseless women. For a club, he used rolls
of paper.

The vividly impressive scenes were care-
fully preserved for presentation at the
trial. Value of such evidence is incalcu-
lable, for a talking motign picture cannot
be ignored and misunderstood by jurors,
or twisted in meaning by defense lawyers.

Cook, we learned, had been in trouble
before. Born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin,
March 31, 1919, he was raised in Water-
loo, Iowa. During school days there he
had frequent tilts with truant officers. He
quit high school just before his senior year.
In January, 1936, he was sent to reform
school at Eldorado, Iowa, for burglary.

Cook’s parents, pleading that they wished
to move to California, secured his release
on parole.

“Dewitt might have ‘gone straight’ if he
had not been deprived of the restraining in-
fluence of his father, who was killed in an
automobile accident shortly after we ar-
rived in California,” Mrs. Ruby Cook told

“Then, much against my wishes, he ran
away with my brother’s daughter, Lorraine
Levy, and they were married at Tia Juana,
Mexico, in June of 1938. I didn’t approve
of his marrying his first cousin.”

1D Pau. De River, police psychiatrist
and widely recognized authority on de-
generate and perverted human behavior, ex-
amined Cook at length. Extracts from his
report are highly significant:

“He is a nocturnal prowler with a mind
like a shuttered room... if his crimes
had not been brought to a halt he probably
would have continued his assaults on
women persistently and relentlessly ... he
would undoubtedly have gone down in the
annals of criminology among the famous
sadistic sluggers of all times.”

On August thirtieth, the black-browed
young terrorist was indicted by the County
Grand Jury on nine counts, including the
murder of Anya Sosoyeva. : Led before Su-
perior Court Judge Clarence L. Kincaid,
he pled guilty to all the charges, whereupon
he was ordered to appear at ten A.M. the
following day for sentence.

As Cook was being taken to court next
day by Detective Lieutenant Tom Bryan
and myself, he passed in front of Delia
Bogard and her father, Harry Bogard, in
a corridor of the Hall of Justice. The girl

THE DEVIL KEPT A DIARY

right shoe there was another red blotch.
He seemed to think someone was watching
him and he left ina hurry. I followed him
down the street... . He hurried through
the crowd—and I lost him.”

The hysterical tone of his communica-
tion caused the investigators to believe
that the author was a “crank.” Neverthe-
less, they could overlook no possibilities
and a watch was maintained for a man as
described in the letter.

A woman residing on East Maywood
Avenue telephoned the information that
on the night of the murder a “suspicious
auto” circled around in her neighborhood
for. such a long period that she jotted down
its license number. The license was
checked to a man living in another Illinois
city. When he was questioned, he satisfied
the police that he had had nothing to do
with the crime.

More young men who fell under suspi-
cion for one reason or ‘another were
brought before the “board of strategy.”
But they were able to prove their innocence
and were released.

The investigators quizzed street car con-
ductors on the Knoxville car line without

success. However, it was pointed out that
Mildred might have alighted from the
street car at the corner of Knoxville and
Pennsylvania Avenues to transfer to a
Heights line car which would take her
closer to her home.

Official theories differed. Some detec-
tives believed that two or more youths had
taken part in the attack and murder. Oth-
ers reasoned that Mildred was not slain by
a young moron, but by a middle-aged man,
possibly a neighbor—a man whom she
knew and trusted. Meanwhile the experts
at the Northwestern Crime Laboratory
were unable to make any helpful deduc-
tions through their examination of the par-
ticles taken from beneath the victim’s fin-
gernails,

HE “BOARD OF STRATEGY” had no course

other than continuing to run down the
multifarious tips supplied by public-spir-
ited citizens, and to question all suspects,
no matter how slight their connection with
the case might appear to be. There was
bound to be a break sooner or later. .

On Thursday afternoon Sergeant Harley
Cole, at Police Headquarters, listened to

-edged closer to her father, and shuddered.
Cook would not look at this pretty victim,
now fully recovered.

In the courtroom, the slayer threw a
bombshell into proceedings by refusing
to tell into the records the things he had

previously confessed. So Judge Kincaid
struck out the former plea of guilty and
set trial for October fourth, in the court
of Judge Thomas L, Ambrose.

N THAT DATE, Cook refused to plead

guilty to the killing of Anya Sosoyeva.
He did enter guilty pleas to the slugging of
Miss Bogard, the slugging and ravishment
of Myrtle Wagner, and three counts of
robbery.

Sullen and nervous, Cook cringed when
Deputy District Attorney U U. Blalock
announced he would demand the death
penalty. In court to testify against him
were Miss Bogard and Miss Wagner. The
latter, not yet fully recovered, was pale
and weak from long hospitalization.

The killer and his attorneys, Deputy
Public Defenders William B. Neeley and
E. E. Cuff, wanted an all-male jury, and
got it. Before that jury, the defense then
battled for Cook’s one slim chance to es-
cape death in the lethal gas chamber,
pleading for imprisonment instead.

If there was ever a doubt of the sullen
slayer’s fate, in the face of the over-
whelming odds against him, it was removed
by the showing of the talking films.
Within a week, the trial came to a close.
In just forty minutes after they had filed
out of the courtroom, the twelve jurors
came back. Separately, one after another,
the stern-visaged men intoned that single
grim word, “Death!”

As each juror spoke, Cook winced. Led
back to jail by Bailiff Cecil Luskin, he
muttered huskily, “That’s bad, isn’t it?
Gee, it didn’t take them long.”

So ended the trial on Friday, October
13, 1939. Friday_ the thirteenth! Un-
lucky, indeed, for Dewitt Clinton Cook.

Get REAL DETECTIVE for the next 24
months for $2.00 less. Here’s how: send
only $3.00 for a two years’ subscription.
Regular subscription price $2.50 per year.
See coupon page 97.

From page 57

one of the hundreds of tips which had
been telephoned in on the murder mys-
tery. It was a woman’s voice. She spoke
with some hesitancy, as if she were afraid
she might be making an unfair accusation,
and she firmly refused to give her name.

“Maybe I should have reported this be-
fore,” she began, “but at the time I didn’t
pay much attention to it... . Anyway,
last Monday morning I saw this young man
cleaning the cushions in the rear of his
car. e was using ammonia or gasoline—
something like that, rubbing it in with a
cloth. Later I noticed he had bought some
seat covers for his car... .”

“What's his name?” Sergeant Cole de-
manded of the caller.

“Thompson—Jerry Thompson. He lives
with his grandmother at 211 West Moneta
Avenue, Peoria Heights.”

Welty, Ford and other detectives went
to work. Probably just another bum steer,
they told themselves, yet it couldn’t be
overlooked.

The latest suspect’s full name, they
learned, was Gerald T. Thompson, twen-
ty-six years old and unmarried. Employed
as a drill press operator at the Caterpillar

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been keeping company, and a
picture of Pilgrim. The letter
had been written in the cafe-
teria lounge during Mildred’s
off-period Sunday afternoon; it
chattily described her activities,
but offered nothing in the way
of a clue. A request was sent
to Paxton authorities to pick up
Pilgrim for questioning.

Checking back on Mildred’s
movements the preceding night,
the investigators found she had
attended a movie after work
with John W. McGinnis, a
Bradley College student who
was also employed at Bradley’s
Cafeteria. Questioned by detec-
tives and State’s Attorney-E. V.
Champion, he told a clear and
straightforward story.

He was on the job until 7:30,
he said, and afterward had an
appointment with his roommate,

but the latter did not keep it. Then he asked
Mildred if she would go to a movie with him,
and she accepted the invitation. When she was
through work, between 8:30 and nine, they
proceeded to the Rialto.

“We left the theatre about eleven,” MeGin-
nis recalled, “and walked to Main Street and
Jefferson Avenue, where we met som of Mil-
dred’s friends and talked to them for a few
minutes. We missed the Country Club street
car, so we walked to Main and Perry, where
Mildred could get a Knoxville car. This meant
that she would have to walk a little farther to
her home after she got off the car, but she said
she didn’t mind. She showed no anxiety about
going home alone.

“She boarded a Knoxville car at about 11:15.
and I waved goodnight to her. She was near
the front of the car, on the right-hand side.
There were several other passengers.”

McGinnis said he went promptly to his room-
ing house and went to bed. At the cafeteria
next morning they told him of the tragedy.
Following the advice of friends, he consulted
a lawyer and then went to the State's \ttor-
ney’s office to submit to questioning.

Mildred would have had about six blocks
to walk from the Knoxville car line to her
home. There are many vacant lots in this
vicinity, many dark hiding places where a
moron might have lain in wait for her.

ee LEADS WERE prominently suggested dur-
ing the first hours of the investigation

A carnival company had been in Peoria only
a few days before, and it was possible that one
of the roustabouts with the troupe had re-
mained in the city. The natural suspicion of
characters of this type was heightened by re-

Ominous mobs circled the jail as the prisoner was led,
flanked by detectives, for questioning. Police con-
vinced the outraged citizens that the law would take
its course justly—and it did. The potential killer took

Mildred Hallmark for her last ride in this death car.

ea 6S 3

couldn’t be identified,” he explained. “I
cut her clothes with a scissors and took o
her shoes and stockings. I got in the
front seat and started to drive. I went
out of the cemetery, but then I changed
my mind. I was afraid to drive through
town with her in the back seat. I figured
she might come to, or something, so I
drove back into the cemetery.”

It was on lonely Valley Road that he
stopped again. He lifted the body out of
the car. He listened for a heartbeat, but
his own heart was pounding so wildly that
he couldn't tell whether the girl was alive
or not. He slid the corpse down the bank
into the ditch, then threw the clothing in
after it—all except the dress, which was
already wadded under her arms.

Thompson denied he had inflicted the
scalp wound, despite the evidence of blood
on his car and trousers. Likewise, he said
Mildred must have sustained the broken
neck in being cast into the ditch.

He drove home after disposing of the
body, but was so nervous that he couldn't
sleep. Next morning, he found the blood-
stains on the auto upholstery, removed
them with ammonia and later bought seat
covers for the car.

Even though news of Thompson’s de-
tention had been withheld from the press,

GEORGIA’S TOURIST

to find a print on the guns. However,
experts reported the stains on the clothing
was human blood. They were attempting
to make a comparison of the blood.

Te BALLISTIC EXPERT took the guns to
his quarters and made the necessary fir-
ing tests. Then he made the usual com-
parisons of the slugs.

“The double-barreled gun has been used
within the last twenty-four hours, and was
used to kill Tom Chester. The empty shell
is still in the barrel. The single-barreled
shotgun has not been used in some time,”
the expert reported.

Every day, religiously, O’Reilly, made a
visit to Harper, his ailing partner. He kept
him abreast of the investigation. They
discussed the case from every conceivable
angle.

“Jay Jay,” said his partner, “I don’t be-
lieve you are following the right lines. It
sounds like the work of a sneak thief ma-
niac.”

Came December twenty-ninth, and Pa-
trolman Harper, his left ankle having
roy was at Headquarters reporting for

uty.

“How do you feel, Harper?” asked Chief
Chapman.

“Feel as fit as a fiddle, and able to solve
that case, Chief,” he said.

“You have some ideas?” inquired the
chief.

“Definitely,” he assured his superior.

“All right, don’t go into uniform. Work
in plainclothes and break the case, if you
can.”

Harper thus joined Sergeant Mahoney
and they drove to the scene of the mass
murders. They examined the buildings and
talked to some of the hangers-on.

Finally, Harper turned to Sergeant Ma-
honey and said: “Sergeant, let’s go to the
County Jail. I want to talk to a prisoner
there who I have some confidence in.”

KX THE JAIL, Harper, who had entered
the building alone, asked to see Henry
Robinson, one of four men who had been
convicted of prowling earlier in the month,
and before the murders.

In the visitor’s room, Harper met Rob-
inson.

REN RECON RE RNR

rumors were spreading through the city
that the Hallmark slayer was in custody
and had confessed. The authorities were
determined to take no chances with lynch
law, and so, early Saturday morning, Sher-
iff Olson spirited Thompson away to the
jail in Bloomington, where he was booked
as “Harry Myers.” From Bloomington
he was taken to Clinton, and later to the
jail in Decatur.

Brought back from Decatur early on the
morning of Wednesday, June twenty-sixth,
under heavy guard, he was arraigned at a
special court session and pleaded not guilty.

“Judge, why don’t you give me a break?”
Thompson whined.

The court appointed Attorney Ben Thur-
man to defend him, and he was placed in
a solitary cell in the Peoria jail to await
trial.

When Gerald Thompson went on trial
for his life in a packed courtroom before
Judge Joseph E. Daily the latter part of
July, the defense sought to prove that he
was insane at the time he killed innocent
Mildred Hallmark. Attorney Thurman
even tried to introduce into evidence the
“little black book” in which he told of
attacks on sixteen women and attempted
assaults on sixty-seven others, but the diary

CAMP HORROR

“Henry,” he said. “You have read of
those murders near Tyson’s Tourist camp?”

“Yes, suh,” he replied.

“Do you know who did that job?”

“No, suh, I was in jail.”

“Henry, you're better educated than the
rest of the crowd, and I think you deserve
a break. I’ll get you one if you help me.”

“T can’t help yon from in here.” :

“I want to show you something,” said
Harper, as he took out the brown hat and
the gray coat from a package. “Did you
ever see these before?”

“Has the hat a little white ribbon in it?”
he asked.

Harper looked inside the hat and found
a white ribbon which he showed to Robin-
son.

“That hat—gee, I hate to talk—belongs
to Plunk! He lives in West Savannah, in
the Rossignol Hill section.”

“Ts that his full name?”

“No, his right name is Jerry Jones, but
they call him Plunk. You'll find him loi-
tering around the hill.”

Harper thanked his Negro informant and
ran out to the police car and broke the
news to Sergeant Mahoney.

“Let’s go and pick up Plunk,” said Ma-
honey.

They drove to Rossignol Hill and were
directed to the “Plunk” cabin.

HEY TAPPED ON THE DOOR several times

and, finally, a young Negress who iden-
tified herself as “Plunk’s wife,” answered
the door.

“Where is Plunk?” they asked.

“T dunno, he comes and goes,” she re-

plied.

“Ts this his hat?” asked Harper, as he
drew it out of a box.

“Tt used to be. But a few weeks ago, he
traded it to Arthur Bayfield for a cap.”

Just then a wiry little Negro made his
way up the broken steps of the cabin.

“Are you Plunk?” he was asked.

“Yes, suh.”

“Ts this your hat?”

“No, sir, ain’t never seen it.”

“All right, come along with us!”

The little Negro was giving the detec-
tives an argument until Harper turned on
him quickly, and said, “Plunk, your wife
admits it was your hat, and she said you

was not admitted. However, one defense
witness told the jury Thompson had
boasted he would have fifty-two women
during the year—one for every week—and
that he was far ahead of his schedule.

Although the jurors doubtless were con-
vinced that Thompson was sex-mad, they
could not believe he was legally insane
when the murder took place. Apparently
they likewise doubted his own assertions
from the witness stand that the confession
was wrung from him by threats and star-
vation. State’s Attorney Champion’s case
was too strong to be knocked down.

i awe JURY WENT OUT to deliberate on the
evening of July thirty-first. Four hours
later came the inevitable verdict:

“We the jury find the defendant guilty
of murder, as charged, and fix the penalty
at death.”

Thompson was dry-eyed, his manner un-
changed, as he heard the fateful words.
But in the judge’s chambers a few minutes
later he broke down and sobbed bitterly.
“My God! My God!” he moaned over and
over,

At last Peoria’s “love wolf” had received
his just deserts. At last he was within
the shadow of the electric chair!

From page 27

exchanged it with another fellow for a
cap.

Plunk changed his attitude.

“That’s right. It was Arthur Bayfield.”

“Get in the car and direct us to the house
that Bayfield lives in, Plunk!” ordered
Mahoney.

As they were driving towards Charles
Lane, the home of Bayfield, Plunk shouted
to the sleuths, “There goes Bayfield now!”

Harper jumped out of the car and took
Bayfield into custody. In the car, Bayfield
readily identified the hat as having been
the one used in the cap swap. “But I ain’t
been wearing it,” he cracked.

“Who has been wearing it?” he was
asked.

“Marion Hunter, who rooms in the same
house as me.”

“What kind of an overcoat does he
wear?”

“A gray coat—oh, no, he just bought a
brown one.”

“Where’s the gray coat?”

“Home, I guess.”

HE CHAIN IDENTIFICATION of the hat was

getting them somewhere. They’ drove
around for awhile and talked the matter
over. Harper asked to be driven to the
house where Hunter and Bayfield lived.

This was done, and Harper got out of
the car. Mahoney, at the wheel of the car,
drove away so as not to attract a crowd.

He walked up to the sixth shack in the
long row. He readily identified it as the
right one by the horseshoe which was nailed
to the front door.

He tapped a few times. The door opened
and a young girl asked him what he wanted.

“Pm looking for Marion Hunter,” Har-
per said, as he walked into the cabin and
started to search the premises.

“You're wasting your time, Mister. I
never know when Marion is coming home.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“T’m his sister.”

“Little girl, I have a date with Marion.
T’ll wait until he comes along.”

An hour later, as the sun, like a fat
orange, was sliding behind the hills, foot-
steps were heard on the porch. Then the
conventional door taps.

“Let them in,” said Harper, as he drew
his gun out of the holster and covered the

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ae

HREE days had passed since the dis-
covery of the ravished and almost nude
body of beautiful Mildred Hallmark in a

The shocking lust murder, coming as a
climax to a series of baffling attacks on the
city’s girls and young women, sent city
police and state investigators on a
search for the sex-mad slayer, Studying
the case they were convinced that this

latest outrage was the work of the elusive
attacker who picked up girls in his car,
took them to deserted spots and sub-
mitted them to unspeakable indignities.

Investigators knew, too, that the slain
girl had marked her slayer—beneath her
fingernails science had detected particles of
human skin and blood!

CONCLUSION

be found with scratches on their
faces in a city the size of Peoria,
Illinois ?

Chief of Police Fred Nussbaum and
his men found forty of them within
twenty-four hours—every one with a
good explanation of how he had received
the scratches,

A couple of them shamefacedly ad-
mitted being met by their wives on com-
ing home too late at night. Another had
twisted the tail of the family cat. Ac-
cidents while shaving provided many of
the answers.

Obligingly, Chief Nussbaum prom-
ised not to disclose their names and sent
them on their way. He might have been
amused, had not the matter at hand been
so serious,

At that point came what appeared to
be an important development at the St.
Frances Hospital. An excited super-
visor of nurses telephoned police that a
patient there had confessed the murder
ot Mildred Hallmark!

Detective Charles Welty hurried to
the hospital, was conducted to an isolated
room and there found a man about 35
years old strapped in bed. The patient’s
lips moved and Detective Welty leaned
over him to catch the words.

“I killed a girl!” the man moaned.
Then he struggled wildly against the
straps that held him and fairly screamed
the words, “J killed a girl!”

Detective Welty stepped back and
gazed at the confessing man. His hair
was disordered, eyes bloodshot and pro-
truding, complexion almost purple.
Froth flecked his lips and he struggled
with what seemed to be almost inhuman
strength to rid himself of the straps.

“He’s an alcoholic patient,” a physi-
cian explained to the detective. “He
won’t be able to talk rationally for
several days. We don’t know his name
or address. He just walked into the
hospital last night.” ;

Ordering the patient transferred to
the City Hospital and placed under

STARTLING DETECTIVE

H OW many men do you think could

- strapped to a hospital bed. The chief

Grimly searching for a man with marks of finger-
nails on his face, Illinois officers follow the trail of
the attacker who killed lovely Mildred Hallmark.

Here is the inside story of the year’s most shocking
crime, and the brilliant detective work that fur-
nished its amazing solution.

RAY BRENNAN

MURDERING

ROMEO

heavy guard, Detective Welty hurried to
headquarters and reported to Chief
Nussbaum.

“We've got the man,” he declared
jubilantly. ‘In a few days he’ll be able
to tell us everything.”

Other authorities were prone to agree
with Welty. The liquor-crazed hos-
pital patient was the only real suspect
found in three days of investigation.
Efforts were made to trace the stranger’s
identity and guards on duty at his bed-
side listened to his every rambling
word,

“T killed a girl!” the man moaned and
shouted at what seemed to be clock-like
intervals. “I killed a girl.”

The authorities sat back to await de-
velopments. They had their man and
awaited only the time when he would
recover sufficiently to tell a full story.
Because feeling in the town still was
running high and he feared for the
tragic alcoholic’s safety, Chief Nuss-
baum kept his disclosures a secret.

Another Tale Of Horror

It WAS now Friday, four days
having elapsed since the murder, and
Chief Nussbaum was congratulating
himself on the good fortune that had
delivered into his hands the murderer

scarcely could be criticized for his con-
fidence that the case was solved. There
seemed to be no reason to doubt that the
murderer had been caught.

But on that fatal Friday there came
an incident that caused the investiga-
tion of the fiendish murder to turn.in a
new direction.

Into the chief’s office came a well
known Peoria business man, bringing
with him a pretty, brown-eyed little
daughter only 16 years old.

“Mr. Nussbaum, I’ve something im-
portant to tell you,” the caller ‘began,
“but you must give me your word of
honor that my child’s name will never
be made known. It would ruin her life.”

ADVENTURES

nS EE

ats

Rese 5 eGouns

voiowe

Holding out for 24 hours, this
sulky youth, shown in an official

lice photo, broke down and con-
essed attacking, or attempting to
attack, more than four score
women during his mad career!

Chief Nussbaum promised. The man
hodded to his daughter and the girl, her
voice faltering, began a pathetic story.

“Daddy says I must tell you because
it might help to find the man who killed
Mildred Hallmark,” she said.

It was the same old tale of horror and
debasement. Chief Nussbaum had heard
it many times from other victims of
Peoria’s lust monster, but it sounded

' more tragic than ever before from the

lips of this trembling, ashamed child.

It happened the previous August. In-
nocent but warned by her parents never
to accept attentions from strangers, the
girl had declined when a young man
offered her a ride as she walked toward
the home of a friend one evening, He
had jumped from the car and seized her.

Yes, the handle was missing from the
car door at her side, and the man had.
knocked her unconscious when she
screamed. She had revived in the
country to find him snipping away her
clothing with scissors.

“He attacked me twice in the car,” the
girl said. “Then he dragged me out on
the ground and threw me in front of the
headlights. As I lay there on the
ground unclothed he snapped a picture
of me. He threatened to spread hun-
dreds of copies of the picture all over
Peoria if I told police.”

The little girl broke into sobs, unable
to continue talking, but the most im-
portant part of her story was yet to come.

She had remembered the license num-
bers of her despoiler’s automobile!
Other victims had never been able to
supply that vital evidence. The sex
fanatic had always taken care to smear
the license plates of his light sedan with
mud. But this time he had slipped.

Secure License Numbers

FIRST renewing his plea of secrecy to

protect his daughter’s name, the
father handed to Chief Nussbaum a slip
of paper bearing two sets of license num-
bers.

His daughter had noted the first
numbers on the night she was attacked,
the father said, and the second she ob-
tained a week later.

“She got a pretty good look at the
man,” he explained, “and she remem-
bered him. “A week after that awful
night she saw a man looking a lot like
him driving a different car. She took
the license numbers of the second ma-
chine, too.”

Would the license numbers, the chief
wondered, lead to the alcoholic case in
the hospital? That would clinch the
case, if true.

Detectives Welty and Glen Ford were
called in; given a set of the numbers and
instructed to trace them.

They were back in two hours and in
tow they had Ben Gray, the youth
who had been -identified—and then

Throwing the resources of the
Illinois Bureau.of Criminal Iden-
tification and Apprehension into
the baffling case, T. P. Sullivan,
chief of the bureau, aided materi-
ally in the investigation.

cleared—by several women who had re-
ported being molested months earlier !

Ben Gray again! What could this
mean? The chief thought it over for a
few minutes, then asked young Gray to
remain in his office for an hour or two.
“I might as well stay here,” Gray
smilingly assented. “Your men are
always picking me up if I’m on the
streets,”

Detectives Welty and Ford were
given the second set of license numbers
and sent out to find the owner. They
learned from registration lists that the
license had been issued to a Gerald
Thompson,

Thompson’s address was given on the
registration lists as 895 Maryland
avenue in Peoria Heights, so the officers
drove there. They found an empty
house, but neighbors directed them to
211 West Moneta street in Peoria, where
the family had moved. They knocked
at the door and a wavy-haired youth
opened it.

“Hello, Ben Gray,” Detective Welty
greeted the youth. “How did you get
out here? We thought you were at
headquarters.”

The youth appeared puzzled at the
greeting.

“You’ve got me wrong,” he answered.
“My name is Gerald Thompson.”

The detectives stared for several
moments in the dark hallway before
they could believe the boy was not Ben

STARTLING DETECTIVE

‘er the murder,

three blocks
ierald, or Jerry,
two brothers,
e tractor plant
ohn Hallmark,

- Mildred knew
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t also was the
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might he not be
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ikely than that,
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‘a quick glance at

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wll have time to
ive an East Peoria
with you. Bring

jicked up two offi-
and L. P. Bechtel,
the tractor plant.
ives to Sergeant
actor police.
office for me. Vl
said, explaining that
3 own police to act

with our man. He
e years old, tall,.
\y hair—in a general
f the much-wanted
sonsible for so many

man? I glanced at
| passing interest In
ike myself, he was
tently. It was the
» finally broke the

-ou want with me?
n’t you?” he said.
and pleasant—a@
‘ce of the phantom

=” Ford told him.
er in Peoria, wants
“seh you.”
» just come off
rk tonight. Dm
y. What’s it all

abled. It wasn’t up
nything, accuse him.
issbaum’s job. Once

inisstantttan

lt le SO MISSDS oeBes Se

BAS a aS at

cont adie te aa

the Chief had him in hand, we would
have plenty of time to ask questions of
our own.

_So, as we drove down to Headquarters,
little was said for awhile, then suddenly
Thompson burst out:

“Tf I hadn’t tried to pick up that girl,
I wouldn’t be in this jam!”

_We had to ask him then and there what

girl he meant. Was it possible he knew
what we suspected and was eager to make
damaging admissions at once? It sounded
like it, so we prodded him with a question
or two.
_ “Oh, it was just some girl I saw stand-
ing on a corner. You know how itis. A
girl catches your eye. You think there’s
an invitation in her look. You stop your
car, look back at her, wait to see if she’ll
fall for you.”

_A peculiar change came over his voice.
You could tell he was picturing something
that pleased him. His tones were a bit
shrill, his words came rather fast as he
described the usual process of “picking
up” a strange girl.

Abruptly he seemed to sense that we
were listening, saying nothing, waiting for
him to give himself away. His excited
tones dropped. His voice became almost
normal.

“MMHAT girl a couple of nights ago gave

me a come-hither look all right but
she didn’t mean it,” he said hastily. “When
I stopped and opened my car door, she
cussed me out, said she knew me and
would have the cops after me—and here
you are. Lot of fuss over nothing, how-
ever.”

You could tell the instant that Chief
Nussbaum laid eyes on Thompson that it
struck him, the same as it had Ford and
me, that here was the very type of fellow
that all those rape victims had described
as their assailant.

Nussbaum did not start out roughly
with him, however. He asked him routine
questions—his name, age, address and the
like. Gradually, however, the questions
began to turn on what we really wanted
to know.

Thompson’s cleaning operations on his
car were mentioned.

“T had taken my girl for a drive on
Sunday and the car was dusty,” he said.
“T generally give it a bath on Monday.
Get up earlier than usual, you know, be-
cause I didn’t work the night before.
There were some spots on the upholstery
I hadn’t noticed before. I couldn’t get
them out, even with ammonia, so I bought
some seat covers and put them on. That’s
one of the things you wanted to know,
isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Oh, I read in the papers where you
were picking up every young fellow who
washed a car last Monday because it

might turn out he killed the Hallmark
fel" .
“You knew her, didn’t you?”

The home to which the slayer’s family
moved the day after the murder

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22 True Detective Mysteries

Heights car would stand, he had seen a girl in a white dress
get into a small sedan. A man assisted her, then walked
around the car and got into the seat behind the wheel.

“There was something familiar about the way the fellow
walked, but I couldn’t place him,” Manias said.

It might or might not mean anything, we realized, but
coupled with the story of the Tetmeyer brothers it seemed
rather convincing evidence that Mildred Hallmark had
changed her mind after leaving McGinnis, had got off at
Pennsylvania Avenue and was waiting for a Peoria Heights
car when someone had come along and offered her a lift
which she had accepted. If only we knew who that someone
had been!

USSBAUM’S plea for women victims of rapists to talk

to the police, under pledge that they would not be sub-
jected to embarrassment by the revelation of their names,
quickly began to bear fruit. Much of the work of question-
ing those who came forward to tell their stories fell to De-
tective Ford and myself. More and more, as we obtained
details' from them which they had not told in the first place,
we became convinced that the slayer of Miss Hallmark was
this one particular man who had apparently attacked nu-
merous women. The meager descriptions they were able to
give, the experiences they related, all seemed to fit like pieces
of a jig-saw puzzle into the picture of what we believed had
happened to Mildred before she died.

Then the girl whose detailed letter had aroused so much
interest at Headquarters decided to try and help again.
This time, however, she made use of the services of two
boy friends who knew of her experience with the rapist.
Still shielding her identity, they told Nussbaum that at a
dance a few nights previously the girl had become excited
when she laid eyes upon a young man and had whispered
to her friends that she believed he was the man who had
attacked her.

“We didn’t want to start anything there that might have
made her story public,” the two youths
told the Chief, “but we watched him and
when he went out to his car we took down
the license number. We intended ‘to learn
to whom it had been issued, lay for the
fellow she had pointed out and give him a

Flanked by police
officers, the slayer
(arrow) leaves the
Peoria court-house

good beating. Now she says that she wants the police to
have that license number if it will do any good.” | (4.
Automobile license records showed the number which they
had supplied had been issued to one Anthony Smith—and
the detectives who went to question him learned that on
the Monday morning that the murder was discovered Smith
had taken his sedan to a shop to be repainted—“because I
had been intending to have that done for some time,” Smith |
told them. Accounting for his whereabouts on the Sunday ’
night when Mildred had met death, he said he had retired
early. By a peculiar coincidence, he was in the same position:
as young McGinnis—he couldn’t prove it. His brother, like
McGinnis’ roommate, had been asleep when Anthony went
to bed. Sometime during the night, however, he had been’
awakened by the sound of snoring coming from the room
which Anthony occupied, so knew his brother was home.
Under the circumstances, there was nothing to do but take |
Smith to Headquarters for questioning. One glance at him |
and we began to wonder if this soft-spoken youth could be }
our man,
Smith was indignant when he learned just why he was in -

custody. Promptly he proved that his soft speech fled when |

he became aroused, that he could speak strongly when he
wished. His denials that he had picked up girls on the |
streets, for any purpose, were vehement. He dared the police |
to bring forward any girl who would say he had so much
as annoyed, much less attacked, her. ;

It began to look very much as if it were up to the girl |
who had supplied Smith’s license number. to present herself
and face him if she really believed he was her assailant.

Chief Nussbaum sent for the youths who had been her |
emissaries. He pointed out to them that, now that we-had |
under arrest the young man they had been prepared to |
beat up, it would be far better if their girl friend came for-'
ward and—if she could—“put the finger” on the prisoner. |
The youths promised to lay the matter before her and de- |
parted. Not long afterwards they reported that the girl felt |
it was her duty to do. as the,
police asked and would confront
Smith. i

Chief Nussbaum’s pledge that |
her identity would not be re-}
vealed to the public never has/
been broken. I cannot break it:
here. Let it be said simply that j
she was a beautiful young crea-
ture, a natural object of admira-
tion for any connoisseur of fem-
inine beauty. She came to Head-:
quarters secretly and only a very.
few persons saw her or knew,
why she was there and. they’
were officers who were working’
‘on the case. Ford and I were!
among them. H

Dramatically she was thrust,
before young Smith where he sat.
in Chief Nussbaum’s -office and,
on the verge of tears, she said

man. The more he denied it, the
more certain she appeared to be.
The more insistent she became,
the more he denied it. After a
while Nussbaum declared it a
draw, sent her home and began
to question the youth all over

What passion-
twisted thoughts
lurked behind the
killer’s calm exte-
rior (above) ashe
awaited trial.

again. After hours he had gotji

nowhere.

that she thought he was thel

pee

NSWERI)
of youn
matrimc

girl lov
time?”

Mrs. Betty 1
gan, says: “Ye
dark eyes emph
Mrs. Betty Buk
but out of her «
young men—on:
the other, a sti

Albert Baker,
masculine love
a member of 1!
Betty’s secret !
and the star bo:

While Albert
night beat over :
was unfaithfully

' ments to love

boarder, Clarenc:

Discreet Betty
of this triple alli:
husband, bent o:
side of his hon
within it. He le:
with bowed heac
ness stand in her
tified to its actu

(Below, le:
the husban.
for Clarence
victim in t'

n=O
— wos
os Aree
hl

wf suas ve we £9

We.were a baffled bunch of detectives that night. : Positive kg f

as the girl had been that Smith had attacked her, he was
equally positive that she was mistaken. She had shown every
‘evidence of sincerity, his denials were not those of a guilty
man but an innocent one who is wrongly accused.

His car had been gone over thoroughly. So far as: could
be ascertained, he had not driven any other. That he had
run. it into a shop for painting the day after the murder
meant nothing. So had half a dozen other men of whom we
knew. Spots on the upholstery, which he admitted he could
not explain, had not reacted to a test for human blood, None
of the finger-prints which department (Cont’d on page 92)

aoe i a

True Detective Mysteries

Who Killed the Girl in the White Dress?

experts had been able to take off the glass
or inside woodwork of his car were those
of Mildred Hallmark, Beyond that identi-
fieation by the girl—and how casily identt-
feations can be wrong We had absolutely
nothing on him.

Chief Nussbaum told) Ford and me lo
see the girl at her home the first thing in
the morning, question her again and try
to get from her information that would
prove something one way or the other so
far as young Smith was concerned.

We found her willing to, answer any
question, irrelevant as it might seem to
her, It went on that way for hours, ib
<oomed, and it was quite by chance that
things took a different tack. It was a
routine question which did the trick, too.

We had been pointing out to her that
the cireumstaneces under which she had
been with her assailant—at night, in a car
where visibility conditions were poor at,
hest, followed by a struggle and an ex-
perienee which must have terrified her—
did not assure a positive identification.
We told her that. we were not looking for
a “goat” upon whom to pin the attack
upon her. Tf we found her attacker and
he proved to be the slayer of Mildred
Hallmark, so much the better, but we
didn’t want an innocent man accused.
Then one of us asked the question which
has ruined many a “positive” identifica-
tion,

“Have vou ever seen any other man
you thought might have been your
assailant?” she was asked.

“Yes, but it was a case of mistaken
identity,” she admitted.

Some girl friends had telephoned and
asked her if she would go out on a blind
date, she said. They had an extra man
along and they wanted a girl for him. He
was rather quiet but he was nice and they
were sure she would have a good time.
She had agreed and that evening they
had arrived at her home in a ear. In the
hack seat with another couple sat the
extra man.

“I. didn’t catch his name when they
introduced us,” she continued, “but started
to get in beside him. Then something he
said or did startled me. I backed right
out of the car.

“This man is named Lee Bridges, and
I won’t go with him,’ I told my friends.
‘T was with him once before and I wouldn’t
care to repeat the experience.’

“They Iaughed at me, told me I was
wrong. His name was Jerry Thompson
and all of them had known him for some
time. Whatever Lee Bridges had done, I
was mistaken in thinking that Jerry
Thompson was the same man. They con-
\‘inced me after a bit and I got into the
car and went on the, party with them.
Thompson treated me fine, just what you'd
expect from a gentleman. We had a lot
of fun over my mistaking him for someone
named Bridges and they kidded me quite
a lot because I wouldn’t tell what Bridges
had done to make me angry.”

Ford and I departed soon after that,
disappointed that we had learned nothing
new except that once before the girl had
believed a man had been her assailant,
but now was in no doubt that Smith was
the man.

The weary round of invesligaling every
tip that came in, regardless of its seeming
unimportance, Was still going on. Chief
Nussbaum read all of the reports, dis-
missed most. of them as having no bearing
on the Hallmark case, ordered more de-
tailed investigation of others and filed still

(Continued from page 22)

others away for possible use in future
cases.

Other tips kept pouring in and it was
one of these which caught and held the
attention of the Chief. It was not unlike
a score of others in that it reported that
a man who had) what seemed to be
seratches or slight wounds of some kind
on his face and hands might be worth
investigating. Similar reports had been
looked into and in every case all had been
explained satisfactorily.

Henry Jacobs (eft) Peoria Identifi-
cation Superintendent, takes the
killer’s finger-prints

It was the name which startled Chief
Nussbaum. Jerry Thompson. Somewhere
in the maze of tips and reports upon
them which had come under his eyes he
had seen the name before! He set about
running through the mass of papers in the
Hallmark case for one, passed up as 0
no value, which had to do with someone
named Jerry Thompson.

When he found it, it was just another
case of a young man who had been giving
his car a thorough cleaning on the Monday
morning after the murder. A woman
neighbor had observed him going over the
car with hose and chamois, had watched
his intent examination of the upholstery
and later had observed with interest that
he put new covers on thé seats in the rear.

An officer had followed up the tip, had
gone to the house she indicated—and dis-
covered ‘that the four people who had
lived there had moved out to Peoria
Heights, several miles away, on the day
after the car-washing incident.

The family’s tame was Thompson. It
consisted of an elderly couple and two
young fellows, brothers, who were their
adopted sons, although in reality the sons
of their daughter. Their former neighbors
spoke well of them. The boys, they said,
were quiet, orderly and had no known bad
habits. There had seemed little use in
pushing the investigation farther.

But delving back into the matter, two
facts impressed themselves upon Chief
Nussbuum. The Thompson home was, or

had been until two days after the murder,
at 805 Maryland Avenue, three blocks
from the Hallmark home. Gerald, or Jerry,
Thompson, older of the two brothers,
was employed in the same tractor plant
in ast Peoria where John Hallmark,
Mildred’s father, worked,

It was not unlikely that Mildred knew
young Thompson, either as a neighbor or
as her father’s fellow worker. If, as we
believed, Mildred was the girl who had
been seen entering an automobile late at
night at Knoxville and Pennsylvania
Avenues by John Manias, was it not a
possibility that it was Thompson’s car,
bound for her home neighborhood and
driven by a young man she knew? It did
not seem likely that a girl of her char-
acter would have gotten into the car of a
stranger at that time of night.

Jerry Thompson! That also was the
name of the young man who had been
mistaken for “Lee Bridges” by our at-
tractive informant.

Now here was another tip that one
Jerry Thompson, working at the tractor
plant, bore upon his face and hands marks
which might have been inflicted by a girl
battling desperately to save her honor,

Were all three of these Jerry Thompsons
the same man? If so, then he also might
be the “Lee Bridges” he had denied being

-to the girl who believed she had recognized

him. If that were true might he not be
the slayer of poor little Mildred Hall-
mark? What more’ likely than that,
having her in his car, he had made ad-
vances to her, had been repulsed, had
knocked her unconscious, then made sure
that she was dead and never would tell on
him, someone she knew?

Chief Nussbaum took a quick glance at
his watch. Midnight!

“This fellow Thompson, our tipster said,
is working at the tractor plant tonight,”
he told Ford and me. “His watch goes
off duty at 12:30. You'll have time to
make it. I'll call up, have an Fast Peoria
officer go to the plant with you. Bring
Thompson in.”

At East Peoria we picked up two offi-
cers, George Vogelsang and L. P. Bechtel,
and drove rapidly to the tractor plant.
We introduced ourselves to Sergeant
Frank Riley of the tractor olice.

“Wait here in the office for me. Tl
bring Thompson,” he said, explaining that
the company prefers its own police to act
in such cases.

He was back shortly with our man. He
was about twenty-five years old, tall,
slender, with dark, curly hair—in a general
way the description of the much-wanted
rapist we believed responsible for so many
assaults!

Could this be our man? I glanced at
Ford, saw. more than passing interest in
his shrewd eyes. Like myself, he was
studying Thompson intently. It was the
suspect himself who finally broke the
silence.

“Well, what is it you want with me?
You're policemen, aren’t you?” he said.

His voice was soft and pleasant—and
so had been the voice of the phantom
rapist!

“Yes, we're officers,” Ford told him.
“Chief Nussbaum, over in Peoria, wants
to have a little talk with you.”

“Ponight? Well, I’ve just come off
duty. Had a lot of work tonight. I’m
tired—oh, well, come on. What’s it all
about, anyway?”

Ford and I dissembled. It wasn’t up
to us to tell him anything, accuse him.
That was Chief Nussbaum’s job. Once

the Chief had **
have plenty of
our own.

So, as we druse »
little was said for
Thompson burst ou

“Tf I hadn’t tried
I wouldn’t be in |!

We had to ask his
girl he meant. Ws
what we suspected :
damaging admission
like it, so we prodd«
or two.

“Oh, it was just s
ing on a corner. Y:
girl catches your e)
an invitation in her
car, look back at he
fall for you.”

A peculiar chang
You could tell he w
that pleased him.
shrill, his words ca
described the usual
up” a strange girl.

Abruptly he seen
were listening, sayin.
him to give himsel’
tones dropped. His
normal.

“FRBAT ‘girl a cou;

me a come-hith
she didn’t mean it,” |
I stopped and ope:
cussed me out, sai
would have the co}
you are. Lot of fu
ever.”

You could tell ti
Nussbaum laid eyes
struck him, the sam
me, that here was th
that all those rape \
as their assailant.

Nussbaum did no
with him, however. !
questions—hi~ ~~~,
like. Gradu 3
began to tu: }
to know. .

Thompson’s clean
car were mentioned.

“J had taken my
Sunday and the car
“T generally give it
Get up earlier than v
cause I didn’t work
There were some spo
I hadn’t noticed bei:
them out, even with a:
some seat covers and }
one of the things y:
isn’t it?” .

“What makes you

“Oh, I read in th
were picking up eve!
washed a car last
might turn out he

“You knew her, di

The home to which
moved the day

“Never laid eyes on her that I know.
Her old man works on the same shift. with
me, but he has one kind of work and 1
have another and the most I ever said to
him was ‘hello.’ ”

“You lived not. three blocks from her
home. Scems like you might have known
her.”

“Pye lived in the same block with peo-
ple for years and never known them.”

“Why did you move from Maryland
Avenuc?”

“One reason was the nosey neighbors.
One of them told you about my washing
the car, 1 suppose, or 1 wouldn’t be here.
The real reason, though, was that 1 was
figuring on getting married and we woul
need more room. I found a place I like
out al 2E1 West Monetta Avenue. My
grandparents liked it, loo, and so did my
girl, so I rented it and we moved this
week.”

He was asked about the Sunday night
of the murder. He said he had taken his
sweetheart to a picture show, had returned
her to her home around 11:30 P.M. then
had wone to his own home, arriving there
about midnight.

“What route did you take?”

Everyone present knew just what lay
behind that question. If, leaving the
young woman at 11:30, Thompson had
driven home by way of Pennsylvania and
Knoxville Avenues, he would have been
at that corner at just about the time John
Manias had scen a girl get into an auto-
mobile—and we believed Mildred Hall-
mark to have been that girl.

6 onan tieee detailed the route he said
he had taken and it was not within a
mile of that corner. A lie or the truth? We
had no way of telling. Thompson betrayed
neither excitement nor worry. His replies
remained consistently flippant, the attitude
he had taken from the start.

Chief Nussbaum had been told, of
course, about Thompson’s remark that he
wouldn’t be in a jam if he hadn’t tried
to pick up a girl. The questioning veere
around to “pick-ups” and sex. Again the
youth’s tones took on a sharper note, his
eyes—now that they could be seen in the
light—glistened. Apparently the subject
was pleasing to him. He rattled on upon
it and his voice grew louder, b
Chief Nussbaum sharply asked him to
speak more moderately.

Suddenly into his story of conquests
the Chief shot a question: “Do you know
Miss So-and-So?”

It was the name of the girl who thought
that in one Jerry Thompson she had
recognized the “Tee Bridges’ who had
attacked her.

The name acted like a wet blanket upon
the youth. His chatter cut off short. A
wary look came into his eyes as they
travelled slowly around the circle of us.

“No,” he said curtly. “I never heard
of her.”

Nussbaum pressed him. Didn’t he re-
call that he had been her escort on @
blind date with some other couples?

Thompson said he had been on many

Flanked by bailiffs, members of the
jury in the Hallmark case posed
for this photo

True Detective Mysteries

_ Apparently unconcerned, the defend-
ant (right) is led into court in hand-
cuffs

dates of that kind. He remembered some
of the girls, but nol all of them.

“She thought you were a fellow named
Lee Bridges.”

“By George, there was some girl thought
I was some other fellow and refused to
go at first. I don’t remember who she
was, however; wouldn’t. know her if she
was standing right here before me.”

“Well, you'll have a chance. She is
going to be doing that very thing to-

morrow morning. When she does, Thomp-

son, I wouldn’t be at all surprised, you
know, if she puts the finger on you.

The youth was taken to a cell with that
thought to chew upon.

The first edition of the afternoon papers
carried the story that Thompson was
under arrest as a suspect. Then things
began to happen.

One of them was an excited call from
John Manias.

“Pm almost certain Thompson was the
man I saw help that girl into a car,” he
said. “Thompson used to work for me
in my pie shop. ‘Nutty Jerry’ we called
him, because he acted funny at times.
More I think of it, the more t believe he
is the man I saw and that is the reason
T said at the time I talked with you before
that there was something familiar about
him.”

Tt wasn’t positive identification, of
course. We expected none. Tt was, how-
ever, a_ trivial thing that bolstered our
belief that in Thompson we might have
the Hallmark slayer at last. The fellow
was excitable on the subject of sex and by
his own admission, he was in the habit of
picking up girls in his car. Despite his
appearance and a seeming frankness that
seemed to belie the possibility that he
would kill, one thing was certain—he
wasn’t going to be turned loose in a hurry.

Chief Nussbaum had rushed Ford and
me out to the Thompson home in Peoria
Heights. It was & shocked couple—Mr.
and Mrs. George Thompson, his grand-
parents, in their seventies and gray- aired
~to whom we broke the news that he was
in custody as a suspect in the Hallmark

murder.

“Why, Jerry couldn’t have done that,”
his grandmother insisted. “I.heard him
come home Sunday night. He was in the
kitchen. I asked him what time it was.
He said midnight and wanted to know if
he could have some cookies. His voice
was just like it always was. No boy who
had just killed a girl would be as calm as
that and have his mind on cookies.”

She did not object when we asked to
search Jerry’s room.

One of the first things we came upon
caused us to open our eyes. t was a set
of pictures of a young couple in a state

of complete nudity. The man was recog:
nizable immediately as Thompson himself.
The girl we could not identify.

Thompson had told us he had worn &
brown suit on Sunday night.
it hanging in a closet-—and upon one leg
of the trousers there were & couple of
dark stains which looked suspiciously like
bloodstains to us. We took them along
when we departed.

Thompson, meanwhile, had been on the
grill again-—bhis tine openly accused 0
being the Hallmark slayer. He denied it,
grew angry, berated his questioners. e
still was in that frame of mind when
dramatically he was confronted by the
girl who once had believed him the ruth-
less “Lee Bridges.” .

She took a long look at him, nodded.

“Do you know this young lady?” asked
Nussbaum. ai

Thompson refused to meet the girl’s
eyes. “Never saw her before.”

He turned his head to look out of a
window, started violently, cast a dismayed
glance about the room, then fixed his eyes
stubbornly upon the floor and kept them
there. As the efforts to make him admit
he knew the girl before him continued, he
grew surly, refused to talk at all. .

“That is the Jerry Thompson with
whom I went on that blind date and he
also is the Lee Bridges who attacked me,”
the girl said. She was greatly agitated.
“Now that I see him under a good light
I know I cannot be mistaken. I made a
terrible mistake in identifying that other
fellow, Smith. h, what can I ever do
to make it up to him. My only excuse
is that he looks a great deal like this
Thompson.”

MITH, it developed, was quite reason-

able about the whole matter. He was
angry, of course, that he had been wrongly
identified, humiliated by his four days’
detention, but disposed to be philosophical
now that he was completely exonerated
of everything. He forgave the girl, and
accepted our apologies in good part.
Smith was entirely innocent of any con-
nection whatsoever with the crime.

The girl now_ swore to information
charging Jerry Thompson with criminal
assault upon her. That was so we coul
hold him on a warrant if efforts were
made to get him out of the hands of the
police. The warrant would not be used,
would not even become public, unless it
became imperative. The girl was willing
to run the chance of that.

Thompson stubbornly refused to talk
except in_ curt phrases that consisted
mostly of “yes” and “no,” but it could be
told that he was genuinely troubled about
something now. Was it a guilty conscience?

Then someone recalled that, turning to-
ward the window to avoid meeting the

identify him, he had been startled by
What could it have been?

mark!

Curious crowds surrounded the jail
awaiting news of a verdict in Peoria’s
most shocking murder mystery

Thompson's :
directed tc **~*
of knowir
unless he |
nized them.
back, someone
dress, the plaid
ings and places
him but wher
unless he wisi:

He was bew
the marks upo:
said that thes
the door of his

him while he \”

in the rear;
caught by an :
cheek had_ bee
it came in con)
“Vowd har
hadn’t painted
added. “If, a:
Hallmark girl +
hardly have ¢a
jodine, would
Chief Nuss)
“he thought a :

Judge Josep!

told v ru
least c tt
identified him.
“There’s one
you are lying,”
chine, a lie dete
“T’ve heard
you want to try
stand for it.”
So presently
detector arrive’
of what appée
Thompson’s ey:
be construed
answers to inno
to the murder a
a chart those \
dicate his pul
queries, were pr
; Suddenly the
jected into the «
indicated by the
but immediate];
Miss Hallmark.
now to the m
order. His deni:
“That will be
began to unst
Thompson’s arn
“Well, how
Thompson and
in his eyes.
“You didn’t n
curtly« “You lie
it. Chief, this 2
mark. Look at
the lines jumpe:
the subject of |
turned to ,norm
subject.”

cit ee es Cees 4

SWAIN, Rufo, kaectrocuted at Cook County Jail, Illinois, on February 26, 19376

"Chicago, Ill., August 16, 1936-For the 3rd time in 3 months, a shadowy assailant creeping
from a fire escape into a hotel room in theChicago downtown district left a woman dead
bbhind him today. Mrs, Mary Louise Trammel, 2lheyears-old, wife of the former manager of
the Tennessee Valley Authority at Knoxville, Tenn., was found beaten and strangled to
death in her 3rd floor room at the State Hotel on South State Street. Authorities believed
she had been criminally attacked, The body, brutally hammered about the face and back, and
with fingermarks discoloring the throat, was found by the husband, “. C, Trammell, when he
returned from a weekend run out of town aboard a train on the Grand Trunk Railroad on which
heis now employed, Trammel ascended to the room and when he obtained no response forced a
transom and saw the spectacleof murder inside the room His wifé lay upon the bed, She
was nude, Trammel rushed down to the desk clerk, John W. Born, who entered the room by
the fire escape, unmistakable the method used by the slayer, The sight inside the room
and the clues left by the killer corresponded closely to the similar murdeks May 9 of
Mrs, Lillian Guild at the Y, We C, Ae Hotel, only 3 blocks away, and of Mrs, Florence
Thompson castle, victim’ of the Devonshire Hotel 'brickbat murder' June 29, Even the same
type of weapon = a sharp-edged brick - used in the killing of the two other wmen may have
been employed to slay Mrs. Trammel, Deputy Coroner Victor Schlaeger said, The wound that
appeared to be the direct cause of death was three inches long and about an inch deep
above theleft eye. “here was no instrument in the room that could have inflicted the
wound, except for an electric flatiron that was unmarked by blood, and none was found below
the windows. The murders of Mrs, Guild and Mrs. Castlewere further recalled when William
Shoemaker, living in a rodm on the floor below Mrs, Trammel, told police he had awakened |
about midnight to seea giant negro peering into his room from the fire escape. Negro men
were suspected as the mrderers in theother cases and a negro was convicted of killing
Mrs. Guild, However, that man, Thomas Starr, was mentally unbalanced and some authorities
have questioned whether hereally was thekiller. Two windows in the Trammels' room open‘ on
an alley and ei her could be reached from the fire escape. Theprowler could have reached
the fireescape from a window of any of the four floors of the hotel after entering the
building proper by a back or front door, An agile’ man also might have leaped to the fire
escape from the near-by spur track of the South Side Lievated Lines, He could not have
ascended the escape from the alley because the first-floor drop section is drawn up to
the 2nd floo r by weights and a wire, fastening it loosely to the side of the building had
not been disirubed, A small screen, 8 inches high, had been pulled out and thrown inside
the victim s room The window to the south was closed. Mrs, Trammel's pocketbook had
been torn Spen and thecontents stewn about the floor at the foot of the bed and over the
dresser. The victim s back was a mass of bruises and a pillow had been thrown over her
hedd, Police estimafed that Mrs, Trammel had been dead about 12 hours, Trammel told
police he married Mary Louise in Knoxvillel18 months ago, about the same time he left his
IVA work, He had been divorced, but it was her first marriage, He is now a dining car
clerk on the Grand Trunk, “e had been absent from his wife for a number of periods, Tra-
mmel said, while searching for work, In the room was a trunk containing letters and tele-
grams he had sent Mrs, Trammel while away fram her, In one of them he suggested they di-
vorce becausehe could not support her adequately....Mrs, Trammell met her husband in Norris,
Tenn., where he was managing a cafeteria for the TVA, ‘they met at a dance.,eA short time
later they were married in Clinton, Tenn,..." TIMES-PICAYUNE, New Orleans, Lae, Aug. 17,
1936 (1/2«)
"Chicago, 8-18-19 H-Rufo Swain, a powerfully built negro with a reputation as a small-time
gambler, confessed tonight, Police Captain Daniel Gilbert said, that he was the prowler
who choked and beat Mrs. Mary Louise Trammell, 2heyears-old, to death death in her hotel
room Saturday night, A notebook and laundry check dropped on the hotel fire escape a
week ago set squads on Swain's trail last night, but he walked boldly into headauarters
today while officess hunted him and denied any knowledge of the crimes He ‘cracked! after |
6 hours of questioning, Capt. Gilbert said, and admitted he clambered into the hotel room
occupied by Mrs, Trammell and pummelled her to death when she resisted robbery...eAuthori-
ties planned to question Swain, 3leyears-old, a former resident of Little Rock, ArKke,y about
the hotel room slaying of Mrs, Florence Thompson Gastless. Capt. Gilbert gave some credit

for the announcdd confession to Miss Frances Velger, 26, who read newspaper accounts of
the Trammell killing and reported to police that she had routed a negro prowler from her

room in a hotel last week, She singled out Swain from a lineup of negroes tonight and name
him as the prowler. Her identification, she said, was based on a large scar, made by a ra-=

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reminded of Miss Veiger’s damning iden-
tification, he continued to shake his head.
He raised his now shackled arms and
pleaded with the officers, explaining that
the lady was mistaken. He clung tena-
ciously to this defense for another hour,
while all of us shot questions at him.
Finally, in exasperation, Erlanson brought
Miss Veiger into the office and placed
her in front of the shaking negro.
“You re the man who tried to get into
my room,” she said, with whiplash scorn.
“You know you are! And you killed
Mrs. Trammell, too—why won’t you be
man enough to confess!”
Rufo Swain’s forehead glistened with
beads of perspiration. He glanced hope-
fully at the circle of officers, but found
no sympathy in their steady, accusing
gaze. hen, with a deep sigh, he licked
his thick lips and nodd ded.
“I—I might as well tell,” he said
hoarsely. es—I tried to get into Miss
Veiger’s room—and | did kill Mrs. Tram-
mell. I'll tell you all about it.”
Completely relaxed, we sat back in our
chairs and listened while Swain told a
breath-taking story.

“I had gone to a burlesque show that
day and | had spent my last dime,” he

The scar-faced killer is seen in cus-
tody of a detective, after a reenact-
ment of the fiendish crime

said. “I wanted to see my girl—Audrey
Tatum. She’s a wonderful girl—I love
her. But I couldn’t go the way I was
dressed. My good clothes were in the
laundry and | had to get them out.

“So I decided to break into a room
somewhere to get enough money. | played
pool in a billiard room at Harrison and
State Streets until 1:30 Sunday morning;
then went for a walk which brought me
to the rear of the State Hotel. | figured
on breaking into one of the rooms next
to the fire escape.”

“Had you ever seen Mrs. Trammell
before?” Erlanson asked. |

“No, but there was a light in a room
on the second floor and | decided to try
that one. You'll:think it can’t be done—
but | stood in the alley, jumped up and
grabbed the fire escape. I pulled it down
and climbed to the second floor. The
window was wide open. In the corner
I saw a woman undressing. When she
was entirely nude | stepped in.

“She got frightened and said: ‘What
are you doing here?’ | told her | just
wanted some money. i!

Swain suddenly stopped talking and
his hands shook.

“What’s the matter?” Erlanson asked.
“Go ahead. “i

“Listen,” Swain said quaveringly,

I didn’t assault her. I read in the baa
where a crowd strung up a negro who
attacked a white woman in Ken-

tuck
i Rufo,” Captain Gilbert chided,

slend

toe c
befor
brou;
come
inflici
tweer
1902.

reau.
task
souts

while,
hotel

and
ilable
“Has
rs or

sk.
men
oO an-
dealt
soinci-
ved in
mmell
ed the
1 Bon.
d!

as we

‘gotten
el only

prow-
direct-
ig took

ink of
y. “At
of our
jad at-
only to

here?”

t think

t Erlar-
er came
Ww.

e began,
se awak-
bed and
the sill
oar and
sack like
the fire

He had
and some
But the
ebook he
me...”
-xclaimed.
+e
ason’s €X-
iis pocket.
it to the
it as a

June, 1937

Erlanson snatched it eagerly and riffled
the pages. He saw at a glance that, the
book contained telephone numbers, names
of race horses, and many apparently mean-
ingless items. There was also a razor
blade and a vena list from the South
Side Laundry, at 2820 Wabash Avenue.
The laundry slip brought a gleam of tri-
umph to Erlanson’s keen eyes, and he
handed it to one of his men, Sergeant
James Frawley. E

“Jim, take a run out there, will you?
Find out what this slip is for.”

“Okay,” Frawley said. “I'll call you
from there.”

Speeding out to the laundry, Sergeant
Frawley identified himself to o icials
there and learned that the slip was for
some laundry brought in a week before
by_a negro named Craig, which_ luckily,
had not yet been called for. The man
had not given his address, so, Frawley
posted a detective in the plant with orders
to wait until Craig appeared. Then, tak-
ing the bundle of clothes with him, the
Sergeant returned to Headquarters.

MEANWHILE another squad, headed
by Sergeant Martin McGuire, had
begun the job of locating the telephones,
the numbers of which were: written in the
little black notebook. Most of them were
in the colored district, and the problem
was made more difficult with the discovery
that. many of the telephones were main-
tained by groups of people who “chipped
in’ to pay for. the installation and calls.
It meant questioning literall hundreds of
men and women—but it had to be done.

Lieutenant Erlanson, going over the
notebook again, noticed that the majority
of the pencil-scrawled numbers were faded
or smudged—but that one was more legi-
ble than the rest. He traced it to a
Mrs. A. L. Martin, at 5430 Indiana Ave-
nue, who operates a bone house for
colored people. Sergeant McGuire, drop-
ping the rest of his work for the moment,
urried to that address and found Mrs.
Martin at home.

“Did you ever have a boarder here
named Craig?” McGuire asked.

“No, sir,” Mrs. Martin said. “T never

“What about the other po living
here—maybe he’s a friend of one of your
roomers?”

“Well, we can ask them. I’ll call them
down for you.”

Mrs. Martin summoned her boarders,
one by one, but none of them knew Craig
or had ever heard the name.

“Are all your people accounted for
now?” McGuire asked.

“No,” Mrs. Martin replied, “there’s Miss
Tatum—Audrey Tatum, and a right sweet
little girl, too. She’s not home right
now.

“11m—where does she work?”

“Why, she’s a dancer in some cabaret,
but [| don’t know which one.”

“All right, thanks,” McGuire said.
“We'll come back later.”

* * *

Wanted—a negro named Craig!

Wanted—a vicious murderer!

These words rang in the ears of every
policeman in Chicago; wherever bluecoats
walked, wherever keen-eyed detectives
kept their fingers on the criminal pulse.
Were they the same person—these two?
Was Craig the phantom killer? We did
not know—yet.

In the elaborate Bureau of Identifica-
tion on the fifth floor of Police Head-
quarters, where great steel cabinets hold
the secrets and crimes of thousands of
men and women, a group of experts were
busy checking the finger-prints of the
negroes arrested in the round-up and com-
paring them with cards already on file.

a eel

Master Detective

They had gone through some thirty of
them when one of the experts pulled out
the card of a prsane who had given the
name Sam Richards, Glancing at the rec-

ord sheet with a practised eye, he whis-

”

is Craig!

“Craig? Why, that’s the name of the
wanted man!”

“Sure! Ill get Lieutenant Erlanson on
the phone.”

The Homicide Squad chief was in his
office on the third floor when the expert
called, and he listened to his report with
astonishment.

din 8 it’s impossible!” he exclaimed.
“I looked
and there wasn’t a Craig among them!”

“Well, he gave.an alias,”
“We didn’t discover it until we checked
the prints. He’s. down in the bull pen

ow.

“All right, I’ll get him up here.”

Five minutes later, while Headquarters
buzzed with the news, Sam Craig, alias
Richards, was hustled into Erlanson’s
office. He was a burly, loose-jointed negro
whose broad, pock-marked face was
strained as he faced the grave detective.

“Yes, | know why you got me here!”
he cried in a nie pitcned rotest.

“Your name is Craig,” Erlanson said
significantly.

‘Sure, that’s my name,” the negro
bleated. “But I ain’t no killer—I’m the
wrong guy—I got a perfect alibi!” ;

Craig’s outburst almost brought a smile
to Erlanson’s lips, because it had a fa-
miliar ring and was delivered with charac-
teristic bravado. But now it carried seri-
ous implications—for Craig had offered
an alibi before he. was accused of any-
thing; and the detective, immediately sus-
picious, began bombarding the prisoner
with questions. Craig was stubborn, how-
ever, and was returned to his cell half an
hour later, still insisting he was not in-
volved in the murder.

While these events were taming. place
we were out searching for Audrey Tatum.

THERE are dozens of small cafés and
A cabarets scattered throughout the South
Side, where colored folk go at night to
laugh and play and express their natural
reactions to music and rhythm. In twen-
ty years on the South Side | had come to
know them all—the old, unvarnished
places where the older men, and women
sit around to gossip and sing; and the
newer, gaudiér palaces of hard liquor and
jazz, where the gay young bucks and their
lithe, streamlined sweethearts whirl to the
blare of the blues.

It was in one of the latter cabarets, at
Twenty-fifth and State Streets, that we
found Audrey Tatum—a vivacious, round-
eyed girl who looked like a lacquered choc-
olate doll dancing under soft yellow
lights. We waited until her number was
finished, then explained our mission. She
offered to come down to Headquarters im-
mediately.

A few minutes later, in Lieuténant Erl-
anson’s office, she was brought face to
face with Sam Craig who, muttering to
himself, dropped his eyes and turne his
face away. Erlanson, watching the tense
scene, spoke to Miss Tatum.

“Do you, know this man?” he said with-
out presale. ’

The girl looked steadily at the prisoner
and her great brown eyes swept him frank-
by feapet head to foot. Then, with an utter

etachment that needed no explanation,
she looked at Erlanson.

“1 never saw him before,” she said.

at all those prisoners myself, |

the expert said. |

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Master Detective

“You've never seen him beforer” Erlan-
son echoed incredulously. “His name. is
Craig—have you ever heard that name?”

Miss Tatum shook her head vehement-

Pm sorry—but I never heard that name
either.”

It was a bitter climax to our long hours
of work. A tremendous disappointment.
And it meant the collapse of our theoreti-
cal solution, so carefully constructed.

Now there would be those same, per-
plexing questions in our minds—who was
the real owner of the little black note-
book; whose telltale laundry was waiting
to be claimed; who was the phantom
with a penchant for hotel fire escapes?

Erlanson sighed and ordered Craig
taken out. Miss Tatum, believing her
duty was done, started to return to the
cabaret when the Homicide Squad chief,
seemingly struck with an_ inspiration,
called her back.

“Wait just a minute, please,” he said.
“I want to show you something.”

ITH the girl looking’ on, plainly

puzzled, Erlanson reached into a
cabinet and brought out’ the confiscated
laundry. He ripped off the paper and lifted
out a shirt, a garment. with stripes of
green, so “loud” they dazzled the eyes.

“Did you ever see this before?” he
snapped. |

he girl giggled and her infectious
laughter broke the charged atmosphere.

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I could never
forget that shirt. It belongs to a fellow
named Gray. | met him in a café, and,
come to’ think of it, he did take down my
phone number.”

“What’s his first mame and what's his
business?” Erlanson’ asked.

“1 don’t remember his first name, and
I don’t think he had a business. He was
a pretty good spender, talked a lot about
the horses, and mentioned something
about being in the policy game.

“Remember anything else?”

The girl seemed lost in thought for a
moment, then her face lighted up.

“Of course!” she smiled. “The scar—
he had a terrible scar on his face; said he
got it in a razor fight. .

Erlanson, banging the desk with his
fist, jumped up

“That’s it! That's it!” he cried. “The
scar! That’s the man we want—thanks
to you, Miss Tatum.”

“Can |—is it all right to go now?” she
asked, glancing anxiously at her watch.

“Vl be late for the floor show if I don’t
hurry.”

“Sure, you can go,” Erlanson said. * ‘But
call me at once if you see him.”

Audrey Tatum left, and we sat down
to digest another strange coincidence,
Craig and Gray—how alike these two
names were. We might never have known
the distinction if Lieutenant Erlanson had
not made a clever guess and produced the
gaudy shirt for Audrey Tatum. In any
event, we were all convinced now that
Gray was the mysterious human fly; that
it was his face, with the livid purple. scar,

that Frances Veiger and Schumacher had
seen staring at them in the dead of night.
Instinctively we felt, too, that it was his
powerful, strangling, ape-like hands that
left their imprint on Mary Trammell’s
pretty white throat. Arthur Pickney was
released with apologies, and most of the
negroes, including Craig, were dismissed.

Now there was one vital problem—
where was Gray?

We were worried; we did not know
when he would strike again; when another
helpless and unsuspecting girl might be
ravaged and murdered. The city was in
a fever of indignation; the newspapers
screamed details of the crime; special
guards were stationed near all South Side
hotel rooms accessible from fire escapes.

On the night of August [8th I began
sending out messages to our contacts in
the colored district. “Find Gray—find
the man with the scar,” | said. The
colored people, I learned, knew him well
and had seen him often. Many of them
calgon to call at once if they spotted

Six hours later, while | was in my of-
fice at the Central Station, the telephone
rang-and | recognized the voice of one of
my negro friends.

“lve seen Gray!” he said.

“You have?” [| shouted. “Where?”

“He’s been wandering around the cor-
ner of Twenty-eighth and State Streets,”
my informer went on. “He's desperate
and broke, and he can’t go far.”

“Okay, thanks,” I snapped. “We'll rush
right over.’

Twenty-eighth and State—a veritable
labyrinth of negro tenements and dusty
and deserted factories, dilapidated build-
ings whose vacant windows were covered
with boards. In some of them, like blind
rats scuttling among the rafters, lived
dozens of penniless and homeless negroes,
sleeping on bundles of hay or straw,
without furniture, without heat or light.
It was, truly. a zone of sanctuaries, where
a man could hide for months without see-
ing the light of day.

I GATHERED a squad of officers and
hurried out of the station, driving fast
but carefully, to avoid attention. We
reached the designated corner a little
after two in the morning, cruising slowly
past the intersection and stopping fifty
yards beyond.

There was no one in sight, not even a
stray pedestrian, and | knew we were
too late. We patrolled the neighborhood
for half an hour, peering into shadowed
doorways, scrutinizing every _ straggler,
throwing flashlight beams into dark alleys.
But luck was not with us that night. The
phantom had fled.

It was roll call time in Central Police
Station.

The afternoon sun was going down, and
the corridors of the Headquarters build-
ing were filled with marching men—uni-
formed officers on the way to their beats,
detectives in plain clothes, carrying
deadly shotguns to their squad cars at
the curb—a small army of men fighting

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To Newspapermen, Police Officials
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If you have in mind any fact case, with actual photographs,
deemed suitable for publication in this magazine, please address
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his 1
of 5

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June, 1937

crime, the tramping feet of the law.

Into this abot of grim faces walked
a strange, furtive figure, a negro who
seemed bewildered by all the activity, the
babble of voices and thythm of footsteps.
A few feet away an elevator operator
saw him standing there in obvious con-
fusion.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly,

“I want to see a friend in the lock-up,”
the negro answered hesitantly.

“Well, you'll have to get a pass,” the
elevator man said, ointing to the dis-
trict office door. “Right in there.”

he negro turned his head slowly,
fidgeting and gazing at the half-open
door; then, moving with decision, he
walked inside.

Sergeant Peter Bernacchi was behind
the desk, checking the list of men on the
night shift, marking off those on sick
leave, and carrying out the daily routine
of roll call. He looked up automatically,
with a question framed on. his lips; then
his mouth suddenly dropped open and
he stared at the negro with wide un-
believing eyes. For there—not two feet
away—he saw a livid scar, and realized
that the negro facing him was Gray, the
wanted man!

Bernacchi instinctively reached for his
gun, shoutin

Gray!

HE negro stood transfixed, ore no

move; giving no hint he would ight
for freedom. He Passed one great hand
wearily across his moist face and said:

“No—no, my-name is Rufo Swain. . . .”

“Don’t kid me,” Bernacchi said between
his teeth. “Your name is Gray—that scar
of yours is a dead give-away.’

he negro’s long arms dropped limply
to his sides and he shrugged in apparent
resignation.

“Yes,” he said huskily.. “I guess you
have me. I’m known as Gra , but my
right name is Rufo Swain. But before
we go any further I want to say that |
read in the newspapers that you wanted
me in connection with ‘some murder—
and I came in here to surrender and clear
myself.”

The elevator operator, who had become
suspicious and followed the negro into
the station, interrupted angrily.

“Surrender, my eye!” he sneered. “He
was prowling around in the hall—spying!
He said he wanted to see a friend in the
lock-up.”

“Well, it won't take long to find out,”
Bernacchi said, relaxing. “Come on in
here and tell it to Captain O’Connor.” ‘

Swain walked willingly into Captain
O'Connor's office. Half an hour later,- in
the presence of Lieutenant Erlanson,
Captain Gilbert, Assistant State’s Attor.
ney Morris Meyers, Captain O'Connor,
and myself, Rufo Swain again denied any
connection with the murder,

“There isn’t anything to tell,” he said
calmly. “There must be a misunder-
standing somewhere. I merely came down
here to clear myself in connection with
this crime.”

Meyers, looking closely at the prisoner,
leaned forward.

“Say,” he said, “you don’t look or talk
like a bum, but—”

“I know,’ Swain said evenly. “My
clothes—well, my conversation does fit
these rags. But I’m down on my luck;
haven't had a job for months. I’m a
high-school graduate and attended the
Arkansas Baptist College for two years.
I was a track and football star there... .”

Erlanson, dipping into his pocket,
brought out the little notebook and
placed it on the table.

“Is that yours?”

“Yes—where did you get it? [ lost it.”

You're the man we want! You’re.

Master Detective
“When and where?” Erlanson asked.
“Oh, someone stole it from my pocket

while I was sleeping in Grant Park about.

three weeks ago.”

Meyers reached across the table for
the familiar green-striped shirt and
shoved it in front of the suspect.

“Belong to you?” :

Swain nodded. “It’s my best shirt—
where did you get it? I took it to the
laundry.” ’

Captain Gilbert, looking at_ Erlanson
in ominous significance, ‘pointed a finger
at Swain. Paes

“Rufo,” he said, raising his voice, “how.
do you explain why a laundry . ticket is-
sued to you one week ago was found in-
side a notebook you said you lost three
weeks ago?”

Swain’s darting eyes swept around the
circle of challenging: faces. He bit his
lips and mumbled: “ hy—why, come
to think of it, | lost that’ notebook less
than a week ago... .” :

“You're lying!”. Erlanson said tartly.

“Do you think I’d come in here and
surrender if | were guilty?” Swain argued,
“There are a lot of hideouts on: the South
ide, you know.”

“You thought you could bluff us about
losing that notebook!” Bernacchi replied.

Erlanson, leaving the room for a mo-
ment, called Frances Veiger on the tele-
phone and asked her to hurry to Head-
quarters. Then, armed with a record
card rushed down from the Bureau of
Identification after Swain’s finger-prints
had been checked, the -detective returned
to the office.

“Look here, Swain,” he said coldly.
“Take a look at your record!”

The card showed the following history
for Rufo Swain:

October, 1934—Arrested on extortion
charge and given a thirty-day sen-
tence in the House of Correction.

May, 1936—Arrested while standing
on a fire escape and peering in at a
sleeping white woman. eleased
when_she refused to prosecute.

May 17th, 1936~Arrested for loiter-
ing around the same hotel, then
discharged in court.

“You're pretty fond of fire escapes,”
Erlanson observed sarcastically.

“But I didn’t do this!” Swain insistea,
almost tearfully.

JN the quarter-hour that followed, the

Suspect was bombarded with questions,
but he clung to his story until Lieutenant
Erlanson finally postponed the grilling
and ordered Swain taken to the show-u
auditorium on the top floor of the build-
ing. Miss Veiger arrived and was escorted
to the front row where she sat in the
dark. Suddenly lights’ were thrown on
the small stage.

Behind the scenes, officers lined up
eight negro prisoners and, at a signal
from Erlanson, marched them to the
stage with orders to face the front and
stand still.

“Recognize any of those men?” Erlan-
son whispered to Miss Veiger,

“No,” she said softly.

The eight men tramped off the stage
and: a second group of ten, including
Swain, followed them into the bright
lare of the footlights. Frances Veiger,
ooking at them one by one, suddenly
jumped to her feet with an exclamation.

“There he is! There he is!” she cried,
tore, a finger toward the stage. “The
third from the left—I could pick that
face out of a million!
that scar... .”

Rufo Swain walked off the platform
with bowed head.

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one to say that he had not come home around 11:30,
On that point it was a stalemate and he had to have the
benefit of the doubt.

Orders went out to bring in the crews of Knox-
ville Avenue cars which had left the downtown district
from II p. m. on, also those which had operated the
Peoria Heights cars around then. Surely some motor-
man or conductor would recall a lone girl in a white
dress and wearing or carrying a blue plaid coat, who
might or might not have been knitting a white sweater
as she rode to California and Maywood Avenues where
Mildred would have left the car if she had carried out
8 intention which McGinnis said she had expressed to

im.

Meanwhile, the four blocks she would have covered
between California Avenue and her home were being
searched as if with a fine-tooth comb. Somewhere along
those blocks—not too well lighted or built up—would
have been the logical place tor something to happen
to Mildred as a prelude to the horrible death that
awaited her. After leaving the car, every step she took
toward home would bring her that much closer to the
ditch in the cemetery where her body was to be found.

That detailed search yielded nothing, however. None
of the occupants of the en along there had seen a
lone girl passing late at night. None had heard a
scream or witnessed a struggle. Nowhere along May-
wood Avenue or in any of the vacant lots bordering it
on either side, was there one single sign to indicate
that on some spot a young man had battled for her
honor and her life.

THE love angle was not overlooked, either. Only a

few days previously, back East, young Bobby Ed-
wards had gone to his death in the chair because he
had wanted to rid himself of a sweetheart no longer
wanted. We did not yet know how far Mildred Hall-

mark had progressed in the only love affair she was
known to have had. One person could tell us—Vincent
Pilgrim, the farmer boy of Paxton, Illinois. The Sheriff
of his county was asked to pick him up for. us.

The Sheriff acted Promptly and just in time. He
caught up with Pilgrim as the youth was ready to board
a bus at Paxton on his way to Peoria. He exhibited a
telegram from his cousin, Jane Drew of Peoria, which
said only, “Mildred.is dead.. Come at once.” Apparently
Pilgrim did not learn of the murder until Peoria officers
who were sent after him gave him the details, Then,
allowing him time to recover somewhat from the shock,
they questioned him briefly. His story was not to be
told in its entirety until he faced Chief Nussbaum and
other Peoria policemen,

PERE was no definite understanding between Mil-
dred and me,” he told us. “We met at a party at

my cousin’s home here about a year ago, and I’ve been .

coming to see her every three weeks since. Look, here’s
the way she felt about. me.” :
_ He pulled out a notebook and Pointed to a nota-
tion in a feminine hand: “I love you truly, Mil. Febru-
ary 22, 1935,” ;
“And here’s something else,” he continued; “her last
letter to me. Look! she says, ‘I’ve been true to you
lately, Vince. Haven’t been anywhere where there were

boys sicee since the roast last Sunday eve, and then |.

wasn’t with one,

Reluctantly, jit seemed, he gave up the letter for
perusal in its entirety. It mentioned several individuals
by name, and Pilgrim was asked who each one was,
Eventually we came to a Passage which read, “I saw
Porter last Saturday night. (June 3). He was going
past Bishop’s, saw me and stopped in to say a few words.
Said he was leavin Monday for his‘ vacation.”

“Who's Porter?”

Pilgrim gave every sign of em-
barrassment. He hesitated over a
reply. The question was repeated.

“That’s Ross Porter, a fellow who
has a decorating ‘business of some
kind in town here,” he said then.

He was pressed with questions

about Porter, and it developed that
he was inclined to regard the other
as a rival for Mildred Hallmark’s af-
fections, although not -a dangerous
one.
“She wrote me that he had made
several attempts to date her up, but
that she wouldn’t have anything to
do with him.”

“Can you think of a single person
who might wish to do Mildred harm?”
he was asked.

“No, I don’t. Not a person. |
don’t want it said that I have accused
anyone of doing this or that, or that
I have tried to cast suspicion on any-
one. I don’t know anything about
what happened to Mildred. I've told
you everything I thought might help,
answered all questions. | can’t say
any more.”

That was all so far as he was
concerned. Just as a matter of routine,
we had checked on his whereabouts

Police officer examining
the clothing of the dead
girl. Bloodstains showed
on the white lace dress be-
low the slipper at the right.
The coat is the plaid gar-
ment showing at the
officer’s right knee

Acting Chief of Police Nussbaum, whose first

task was to solve the riddle of the murdered

nude. He is shown reading a letter she wrote
to her boy friend

the previous night. He had been no closer to Peori
than his home town,

During all our first casting about for some cle:
that would put us on our way to.solving the murde:
the tipsters and report spreaders had been characteris
tically busy. They always are when a sensational crim
is committed. You can’t afford to ignore them. Yoi
can’t dismiss any scrap eof information as worthless
deadly dull work, that; but it has to be done. Some
where amid the chaff you may come across the grail
of truth for which you seek. :

S° EVERY tip, every rumor, every suggestion that s

and so was of the type of degenerate or moron fo
whom we were looking, was investigated and not dis
carded until we agreed that it meant nothing.

It was amazing how many young fellows it
Peoria were seen washing cars or cleaning thei:
cushions on the day after the discovery of Mildrec
Hallmark’s body. Yet the reason was fairly obvious
The previous da had been Sunday when every ca
owner usually takes his machine out for a run, ofter
enough necessitating a clean-up the next day. We

ng for him to do was to
to the authorities and tell
story; that if it was true,
had no need for an at-
ney.”

McGinnis a parently
! not followed that advice.
at Headquarters had not
rd from him. So out went
ers to take him into cus-
y for questioning.

T McGINNIS’ rooming
‘ house it was not known
't_ hour he had returned
previous night. His room-
'e, Clayton McDaniel, found
king at the offices of the
lois Emergency Relief,
| he had retired at 1] p.
the previous night. Mc-
nls Was not at home. Mc-
el had not been awak-
! when McGinnis came in
lid not know what time it
: but his roommate had

1 there when he awakened

he morning.:

William McGar-
vey, cemetery

teamster whose

horse became

frightened at

Passing the mur-
der ditch

es Ee IE OPEC aT Ree ne
iy CAINE Me yee

Says Detective Barker:

“After a Study of the
Callous Treatment That
Had Been Accorded
Her Body, It Was Logj-
cal to Conclude That
the Slayer Had Been a
- Degenerate, If Not An
‘Actual Maniac"

McGinnis, it developed, was a student at Bradley
College in Peoria, who had elected to remain in the city
and work during vacation rather than return to his
home in a little upriver town. On the theory that,
whether he knew anything or nothing about Mildred’s
murder, he had become panic-stricken and gone home,
the authorities in his home town were asked to look for

him. They reported back that he had not been there,

Ail of the search for McGinnis was unwarranted,
however.

the Attorney’s office, and taken him in for questioning.
By an oversight the police had not been informed he
was in custody until the State’s Attorney learned of
the search for him.

The Prosecutor said that McGinnis had nothing to
tell, but that if we wanted to question him he would
be sent right over. Within half an hour he was in Nuss-
baum’s office—a badly frightened nineteen-year-old boy
with brown eyes and ‘curl hair,

“I got off work at 7:30 last night,” he said. “I
had said something to my roommate, McDaniel, about
going to a show, and | waited around for him but he
didn’t appear. About 8:30 Mildred Hallmark got ready
to leave and | mentioned to her that there was a picture
at the Rialto Theater that | would like to see and asked
if she wanted to go with me.

“She said she would if I’d make it a Dutch treat;
you know, each to pay for his own tickets. I guess she
knew that I didn’t have much money. I never do. |
work at the cafeteria for meals and do a bit of work
for the State Relief outfit now and then, and no one
ever got rich at that rate. As a matter of fact | had
just fifty-odd cents on me, so I accepted Mildred’s
Proposition -that . she pay for her ticket. She
tried to reach her folks by phone but couldn’t, so de-
cided to go anyway,

ie 1! WAS about 11 o’clock when we got out of the show.

We went over to a corner where she could catch
a Peoria Heights car, which would take her within two
blocks of home. One was just pulling out when we got
there, so rather than wait for the next—they don’t run
very often at that time on Sunda night, you know—
she said she would take a Knoxville Avenue car, which
would carry her four blocks from home.

““T don’t like those four blocks, but I’m not afraid,’
she said. ‘You needn’t come with me.’ ‘

“Thoughtful, that’s what she was. It’s a long way
to where she lives—lived—and I'd have a long ride
back after seeing her home.
If I let her go alone, I’d have

CONTENTS THIS ISSUE

Vol. | _ October, 1935

The Riddle of the Nude in the Cemetery... .Detective Lew Barker and M. T. Moore.... 2
8

One Kidnaper Who Trusted a Blonde....John J. McPhaul
Smashing Michigan’s Illegal Operation Racket...
and Albert O. James .................... eae
Three Grand—or Else. ...West F. Peterson .....
Across the Continent in a Trunk....Highway P
and Eugene B. Block ...................
The March of Crime. .-..David Frederick Mc( or
Sterilization—Fox Hickman, the Boy Monster. !x-Operative
Was Justice Wrong?... . Judge Edgar F. Hazelton

Published bi-monthly during June, July, August and Septembe

and Isabel Stephen BV Sie cdo eccee, O30)

only a half mile or so to my
room, so when the Knoxville
car came along | put her on
it and went home.”
That, he said, had been
around 11:15 p. m., although
e could not recall making
any effort to note the time.
He didn’t tell his story
well and he wasn’t particu-
larly convincing about it, but
we took into consideration
his youth, the fact that he
was in a state of terror at be-
ing mixed up in a gruesome
murder—and didn’t hold his
Hervousness against him. His
Story would let him out, if it

PRN

Detective. Stories, ine piintered iad, class matter Oct. 2 Mt the Post Pitiee, Chicago, am Hattorial ana could be proved.
General ices at lymout! ‘ourt, Chicago, 5 vertisi ‘ es National edia, Ine., as! nm reet, New g Z
Kolhae, Nitsa ie se Lake View Ave., Chicago, Ill. Herbert Kiser Pane ete st.: R, 8. Wood, Editor: “Harry His roommate, McDaniel,

+3
Keller, Managing Editor. Price 10¢ per copy in the United States. Subseription pri
and possessions, also Cuba, Mexico and Panama. Subscription remittances should be
express money order,
copies of material submitted. ' Omcial Detective Stories will make every effort to
bli De

had said he did not know at
what time McGinnis’ had
return unpurchased manuscripts, photo- come home, so there was no

graphs, and drawings (if accompanied by postage) ; but the
Unless pi in this are desi d as being actual persons, and unless
such pictures, the illustrations do not show persons named in stories,

the names are given in captions with proof that it had not been
. ; much later than he said. On
the other hand, there was no

a a

footprints in the wet, soft earth of the ditch indicated
that the girl had been dropped into it from the road-
way at the top of the bank, and her things tossed
down after her.

It was not difficult for the detectives at the scene
—Fred Nussbaum, Charles Welty, Harry Whittaker,
Charles Esken, Robert Doebler and Noble Golden—
to make a shtewd guess as to what probably had be-
fallen the girl.

OR my part, I was seeing a kaleidoscopic picture

which is familiar to every veteran policeman; A
girl trusting herself alone with a man, old acquaint-
ance or new, who had won her confidence—then a
lonely spot, a proposition, cajolery, and—suddenly
a human fiend mad with lust, determined to satisfy
it at any cost. Terror when the gitl became aware
of his intentions. Futile efforts to escape. Screams.
Blows to silence her lest she be heard above the noise
of the rain. Her dress torn to shreds, her under-
things ripped: off. Her 8radual succumbing to
Superior strength. Stunning realization that the brute
is about to have his way. Then merciful unconscious.
ness—death in a rain-soaked ditch,

A horrible picture! One, however, that has
been duplicated times without number since the world
began, and will be duplicated times without number
again so long as men upon occasion revert to beasts.
Sick at heart, we of the police turned away from the
dead girl to seek her killer.

On the roadway itself nothing was to be seen.
It was too hard to show footprints, signs of a struggle
or the marks of automobile tires if, as seemed likely,
the body had been brought to the spot in a car, either
before or after the assault and murder,

N A little cottage at the address on the identification

card, half a mile or so from where the body was
left, we found the family of John Hallmark in a state
of deep agitation over the unexplained all-night
absence of Mildred, nineteen years old. Never be-
fore had she spent a night away from home without

telling her parents where she would be, yet the pre- —

vious night she had not telephoned. Around 2 a. m.
Mrs. Hallmark, unable to slee , had gone to Mil-
dred’s room and learned she had not come home. A
younger sister, Ruby, had telephoned the homes of
friends with whom Mildred sometimes spent a night.
She had not been seen, nor did anyone have know-
ledge of an engagement she might have had after
leaving work at Bishop’s cafeteria, in the downtown
district, where for several months she had been em.
ployed as a hostess.

Just before we arrived to break the news of
Mildred’s horrible death, the family had phoned the
cafeteria. Naturally, none of those who went to work
early in the morning could tell where Mildred might
have gone after leaving work at 8:30 p- m.

WE tried to break the news gently to the distressed

family. Mrs. Hallmark was not to be deceived,
however, by the “white lie” that Mildred had been
injured in an automobile accident. Her mother’s
instinct or perhaps it was the presence of so many
detectives, reporters and cameramen, told her differ-
ent :

“I know it wasn’t an automobile accident or any-
thing like that,” she cried. ‘\Mildred’s dead. I know
it. Tell me the truth. I’ve got to know—I’ve got
to know!”

Eventually someone did tell, mercifully with-
holding for the moment the more sordid details, Mrs.
Hallmark and Ruby collapsed. John Hallmark, made
of -sterner stuff, paced the floor in stunned silence for
awhile, but eventually was able to tell us some of the
things we wanted to know. In the end, however, it
was from the lips of others, rather than from the fam-
ily, that we were able to build eg that essential thing
—a picture of the life, contacts, abits, ambitions and
mental workings of Mildred Hallmark.

Many murders can be solved, theoretically at
least, by such a reconstruction of the life of a victim.
Far from pointing the path it seemed most logical to
follow in the search for Mildred’s slayer, her life
seemed to offer no signpost at all.

Mildred had been a typical nice girl. Her par-
ents were not of the upper class—John Hallmark was

a skilled toolmaker in the Caterpil
ler tractor plant at East Peoria—
but they had a modest, well-fur- .
nished home in an excellent neigh-
borhood. Both her parents were
fairly well educated and refined,
and so were their daughters.

Mildred had graduated with
honors from parochial school and
from the Academy of Our Lady.
She had become a cafeteria hos-
tess because no better position
offered immediately. Not an un-
usually attractive girl, she never-
theless earned more than a passing
glance because of her shapely fig-
ure, brown hair, and auburn eyes,
She was not the active type that
oes in for athletics, nor was she
of the party type. A bicycle ride at
night or a weiner roast, always
with other girls, was more to her
taste. She never went anywhere
without telephoning home. Most-
ly her amusements were shared
with three other girls who were
her closest friends.

FTER a study of all these

things, and keeping in mind

the callous. treatment which had

been accorded her body, it was

logical to conclude that the slayer

had been a degenerate, if not an
actual maniac,

Already at hand was one such
person. For twenty-four hours be-
fore the finding of Mildred Hall-
mark’s body, reports had been
coming .in to the police of the
Strange actions of an apparently
demented man who had alarmed
women in the vicinity of § ring-
dale Cemetery. A motorcycle po-
liceman even had made a flying

trip out there at 2:30 a. m. Sunday morning, twenty-
four hours before Mildred had been slain, but had
returned a besiege The man had been seen and

had annoyed women elsewhere in the city.
At Headquarters orders had been issued to keep

Mildred Hallmark, the victim of the ghastly

cemetery tragedy, from one of the latest

photographs ever to be made. At left, Anthony
Smith of Peoria, Mlinois

a sharp eye out for him everywhere. Whether this
man was one E. Searle, a dangerous lunatic who had
escaped from.a Detroit asylum and was said to have
returned to Peoria, his former home town, we had no
way of knowing; but now Chief Nussbaum ordered
not only a definite search for-the annoyer of women,
but assigned men to track down Searle.

Meanwhile, at Bishop’s cafeteria, where Mildred
worked, we had come upon a definite starting point
for our investigation.

Quiting work the iis night, Mildred had
not departed alone. She had been in company of John
McGinnis, also a cafeteria employe, Someone vague-
ly recalled that something had been said about taking
in a show together—and now, with the girl’s murder
the sensation of the day, McGinnis was not on the
job as he should have béen!

E had reported for duty at-the usual time, appar-

'" ently had been stunned at hearing Mildred was
dead, had become agitated when it was’ recalled that
he had left the cafeteria with her the previous night,

‘and then had departed, saying he was going to take

the advice of another employe and 80 see an attorney.

At the office of the lawyer, one of the most

rominent in the city, it was said that McGinnis had
oa there and asked advice.

“I just laughed at him,” this lawyer said. “He
told me he had taken the girl to a show, then put her
on a street car that would take her home, and walked
on to his own rooming place, I told him the only

Vincent Pilgrim, twenty-three year old youth
of Paxton, Illinois, who was a suitor of Mildred
Hallmark

checked on every such report, however; inspected the
interiors of hundreds of cars in search of possible blood-
spots; had a look at every car that had been brought in
for repainting after Sunday—and got exactly nowhere.

e probed stories of men who acted suspiciously
is they threw bundles into the Illinois river—and found
that the bundles contained, not the bloody clothing of

Mildred Hallmark’s slayer, but refuse or the like, and
In one case, a dead cat,

Also, we picked up and questioned every individual
who was known or suspected of having annoyed or at-
tacked women—and turned them all loose.

Harking back to the ancient belief that a murderer
inevitably is drawn back to the scene of his crime if
he thinks he can do so without being caught, we sta-
tioned men in Springdale Cemetery to jot down the
license numbers of the hundreds of cars which brought
the morbid and the curious to the ditch where the slain
girl had been found. We did the same at the morgue
where many asked, and few obtained, permission
to see the body. Other
men were stationed at

Thursday Coroner William B. Elliott held an inquest
in the case,

We of the police had little to offer except routine
evidence. Seventy-two hours after the discovery of
the body we knew no more about. who had killed her,
why or how it had been done, than we had at the
start. Neither did the Sheriff or the Prosecuting At-
torney nor yet the officers from the State Police who
had been sent to Peoria by Governor Henry Horner.
This, too, in spite of the fact that rewards of more
than $2,000 had been offered for information that
might lead to a solution of the crime.

Young McGinnis was the inquest witness upon

whom interest centered.
Except in our minds, he

he Hall k h : had b leared
tensibly to keep the pub. The Chief's Order Went Out: fly of al “suspicion,

t tance, but 3 $ story that a
the tans tine th watch "Get the Fiend Who Has At- Sg Mildred tw a Kane

the crowds on the outside

ville Avenue car and

chance that some over- tacked a Full Score of Peoria's then gone home, had not

looked individual — “of
known moronic _tenden-
cies might be detected,
or some lucky break
might give the murderer
away,

Motorcycle policemen meanwhile had tracked down
the lunatic, Searles, had seized him in another town and
obtained proof that he had left Peoria before the mur-
der. Another motorcycle policeman had spent half a
day following the reputed trail of Ross Porter, the
decorator who had aspired to dates with Mildred Hall-
mark, only to find, when he caught up with his man,
that he was following someone else, a saleman who was
making his regular round of the smaller towns.

Porter was not even aware that he. was being sought.
A detective finally found him at his home, washing
out flags and bunting which he had used in a street
decorating job.

“Why, yes,” said Porter, “I tried several times to

-make a date with Mildred Hallmark. | liked her,

would have been glad to take her out; but she appar-
ently did not like me. At least, she never accepted an
invitation from me.” :

“And Sunday night?”

“Sunday night I drove a young woman to Peru.
We returned around midnight. Then my car broke
down and | called a friend to help me fix it. When

we got done, around 3 a. m., we went to a lunchroom

over on Hamilton Street. Then 1 went home.”
Another possibility gone glittering! He had any
number of witnesses to back him up:
On Wednesday Mildred Hallmark was buried. On

Another view of the death scene, taken from the
water trough where the torn shirt was found. De-
tective Glen Ford is standing at the spot
where the parked automobile must have stood

Young Women"

yet been backed up by
anyone who had noticed
her on such a car. If
she had been on it, nei-
ther motorman nor con-
ductor had taken enough notice of her to remember
her. Starkly significant was the solemn assertion of
every street-car man questioned that on that Sunday
night their cars had not stopped to let a lone girl off at
California and Maywood Avenues!

_ “You need not take the witness stand,” it was
Pointed out to young McGinnis, as is customary with
individuals: whose rights might be jeopardized by testi-

ying.
fie got the drift at once. “Oh, but I’m_ willing

to tell everything I know,” he said quickly. “I have

nothing to hide, nothing to fear.” =

The verdict of the Coroner’s jury, naturally; was
that the crime had been committed by a “person or
Persons unknown.”

That verdict, revealing that the authorities had got-
ten precisely ‘nowhere toward solution of the murder,
acted as.a spur upon an already aroused public. Its
reaction virtually served notice that the slayer must be
arrested or somebody was going to lose his official
head, several somebodies perhaps.

No. such ultimatum. was required so far as we of
the police were concerned. Balked at every turn, up a
blind alley so to speak, we were determined, individually
and collectively, to follow the case through at no mat-
ter what cost. In this crisis Chief. Nussbaum was a shin-
ing example. Confronted by this tough case at almost
the moment he was sworn in as acting Chief, he knew

aor CuirF Nusspaum and the other investigators
turned to science for aid. Particles scraped from be-
neath the victim’s fingernails were sent to the Northwestern
University Crime Laboratory for analysis. If Mildred
scratched her attacker in fighting for her life, the particles
might reveal whether the slayer were white or colored,
young or old.’ It also was planned to send her clothing to
the laboratory.

That there had been numerous attacks on Peoria girls
which had not resulted fatally, was proved by the flood of
information received at the City Hall headquarters. Scores
of young women had been victimized by rapists, but until
the Hallmark murder they were so afraid of publicity that
they failed to report the crimes.

The deluge of tips continued to pour in. An anonymous
letter left at the stamp window of the Peoria postoffice gave
a detailed description of a man supposed to be the killer.

“I looked at his shoes. At the toe of his left foot there
was a red spot. At the heel of his right shoe there was an-
other red blotch. He seemed to think someone was watch-
ing him and he left in a hurry. I followed him down the
street... . He hurried through the crowd—and I lost him.”

The hysterical tone of this communication caused the in-
vestigators to believe that the author was a “crank.” Never-
theless, they could overlook no possibilities and a watch was
maintained for a man as described in the letter.

A woman residing on East Maywood Avenue telephoned
the information that on the night of the murder a “sus-
picious auto” circled around in her neighborhood for such
a long period that she jotted down its license number. The
license was checked to a man living in another Illinois city.
When he was questioned, he satisfied the police that he had
had nothing to do with the crime.

More young men who fell under suspicion for one reason
or another were brought before the “board of strategy.”
But they were able to prove their innocence and were re-
leased.

The investigators quizzed street car conductors on the
Knoxville car line without success. However, it was pointed
out that Mildred might have alighted from the street car
at the corner of Knoxville and Pennsylvania Avenues to
transfer to a Heights line car which would take her closer
to her home.

Official theories differed. Some detectives believed that
two or more youths had taken part in the attack and murder.
Others reasoned that Mildred was not slain by a young
moron, but by a middle-aged man, possibly a neighbor—a
man. whom she knew and trusted. Meanwhile the experts
at the Northwestern Crime Lab- (Continued on page 86)

that plan came 4

1 his long fight,

or once, appealed °

|. They had no
ed Cohen to try
antime.”
e of bribe money
tory wilder than
fiction, induced
County, Texas,
atus of 100 men
the custody of
Villiam N. Han-
f Rich, Blocker

rs of his posse ~

“Woodpeckers” »
ig factions who
a hat and would

price of a few

Judge Burns
m dismissing the

ordered Marshal .

ct Dodge to Gal-
ially to take him

ecember 23, 1904, .
rk City and was
) await trial.

2rome placed be-
cts of the Morse-
th the history of

ispiracy to annul
»ornation of per-
the little mouth-

On May 20 he °

ce. He went on
id was convicted
is activities. He
e year on Black-
entiary and was.
, 1907, the con-
1 ten days later
ary. When the
ed also upon his
; later disbarred
ve and Hummel

n London, Eng-
ld man who had
loing kindnesses
serving, as if by
toward decency
against the pit-
|, was gathered

me will outlive
elves great; not
ition to himself
ourcefulness, but
all doubt as he
type one calls a
worst fault was
iat men call jus-
ot being perfect,
wn of the brain-
aan beings across

From page 13

mpson, He lives
11 West Moneta

detectives went
t another bum
3, yet it couldn’t

ull name, they

iompson. Twen- *

‘ried. Employed
t the Caterpillar
ria. It took only
among his ac-

he fact that’ his

a8 ee

reputation was not above suspicion. From
two young men came the information that
they had been “laying” for Thompson,
eager to punish him for an assault he made
on a Peoria girl.

The investigators went to the West Mo-
neta Avenue address and in Thompson’s
room found an incriminating little black
book—a diary which listed criminal as-
saults upon sixteen young girls.

“Looks like he’s our man!” exclaimed
Detective Welty, thumbing through the
book. “Whew! This stuff should have
been written on asbestos!”

Each attack had been described minutely
and in glowing terms. Ample proof that
Thompson was a “love wolf” who preyed
on unwary girls! Still, there was no nota-
tion of the attack that resulted in the
death of Mildred Hallmark. Rapist though
he was, Thompson might be entirely inno-
cent of the slaying.

“Sure, maybe he doesn’t know a thing
about it,” Detective Ford said, “but these
certainly look like bloodstains to me!”

He held out a pair of trousers found
hanging with Thompson’s other clothes,
and pointed to some spots on the garment.
The stains were on the lower part of the
legs and on the cuffs.

Welty whistled. “Let’s go!” he told his
partner.

NVESTIGATION of Thompson’s background

and the search which resulted in the
finding of the diary and the spotted trou-
sers had consumed several hours. It was
near midnight by the time the detectives
went to the East Peoria police station,
picked up two night patrolmen to accom-
pany them, and went to the Caterpillar
plant, where they made their mission
known to Sergeant Frank Reilly of the
company police.

Reilly, after a check, informed them that
Thompson worked the second shift at the
dig 9 and would be leaving work about

A supervisor went into the tool room
and informed the youth that he was
wanted outside. Later he said Thompson
was “nervous as a cat” as he washed up
and remarked, “I wonder what they want
with me.”

Then the suspect was confronted by the
police officers.

“I know what you want with me,” he
blurted. “If I hadn’t tried to pick up that
girl, I wouldn’t be in a jam.”

“What do you mean by that?” Welty
demanded.

Thompson sidestepped the question, re-
fusing to elaborate on his strange remark.

But a little later, informed that he was
being arrested for questioning in the Hall-
mark case, he exclaimed, “My God, what
will these people think of me? Why, her
father works in the same department I
do!”

The victim’s father and Thompson
worked the same shift at the Caterpillar
plant. Their benches were only a short
distance apart.

Carl Kemp, tool room foreman, revealed
that Thompson had been at work regularly
since the tragedy. He was on the job as
usual Monday night, immediately after the
body was found, and again on Tuesday,
Wednesday and Thursday nights. He went
about his duties calmly while other em-
ployes talked excitedly of the atrocity in
Springdale. It was recalled that he gave

twenty-five cents toward flowers for the
funeral of the victim.

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been keeping company, and a picture of Pilgrim. The letter
had been written in the cafeteria lounge during Mildred’s
off-period Sunday afternoon; it chattily described her ac-
tivities, but offered nothing in the way of a clue. A request
was sent to Paxton authorities to pick up Pilgrim for ques-
tioning.

Checking back on Mildred’s movements the preceding
night, the investigators found she had attended a movie after
work with John W. McGinnis, a Bradley College student
who was also employed at Bradley’s Cafeteria. Questioned
by detectives and State’s Attorney E. V. Champion, he told
a clear and straightforward story.

He was on the job until 7:30, he said, and afterward had
an appointment with his roommate, but the latter did not
keep it. Then he asked Mildred if she would go to a movie
with him, and she accepted the invitation. When she was
through work, between 8:30 and nine, they proceeded to
the Rialto.

“We left the theater about eleven,’ McGinnis recalled,
“and walked to Main Street and Jefferson Avenue, where
we met some of Mildred’s friends and talked to them for a
few minutes. We missed the Country Club street car, so
we walked to Main and Perry, where Mildred could get a
Knoxville car. This meant that she would have to walk a
little farther to her home after she got off the car, but she
said she didn’t mind. She showed no anxiety about going

home alone.

“She boarded a Knoxville car at about 11:15, and I waved
goodnight to her. She was near the front of the car, on the
right-hand side. There were several other passengers.”

McGinnis said he went promptly. to his rooming house and
went to bed. At the cafeteria next morning they told him
of the tragedy. Following the advice of friends, he con-
sulted a lawyer and then went to the State’s Attorney’s office
to submit to questioning.

Mildred would have had about six blocks to walk from
the Knoxville car line to her home. There are many vacant
lots in this vicinity, many dark hiding places where a moron
might have lain in wait for her.

WO LEADS WERE prominently suggested during the first
hours of the investigation.

A carnival company had been in Peoria only a few days
before, and it was possible that one of the roustabouts with
the troupe had remained in the city. The natural suspicion
of characters of this type was heightened by reports from
several householders that they had seen a rough-looking
stranger lurking about their homes.

Secondly, Acting Chief Nussbaum was notified that Clif-
ton E. Searle, a youth who formerly lived in Peoria, had
recently escaped from an institution for the insane in De-
troit and was believed heading back into Illinois. If Searle
were mentally unbalanced, as the Detroit authorities claimed,
and had returned to his old haunts, he might logically be
considered a suspect. But this possibility went glimmering
when Searle was taken into custody at Clinton, Illinois, and
it was proved that he had not been in Peoria.

Vincent Pilgrim, deeply affected by the tragedy, arrived
in the city from Paxton on Tuesday. While he declared he
could think of no one who might have harmed Mildred, he
did tell the police of an unwanted suitor who had been im-
portuning her for “dates.”

It looked like a real lead, but when officers arrested the
new suspect he was able to establish an iron-clad alibi.

Peoria now was thoroughly aroused over the brutal slay-
ing. Newspapers began popular subscriptions to raise re-
wards for the arrest and conviction of the killer. Citizens

FRIEND OF THE SLAIN GIRL

In Mildred’s pocketbook police found a
note addressed to Vincent Pilgrim
(above), the Paxton youth with whom
she had been keeping company. To
make certain there would be no mob
violence, six deputies and plainclothes
men accompanied Thompson to and
from the courtroom each day (right).

turned amateur detectives and dug
furiously for leads. The police
were deluged with clues; detectives
in squad cars dashed to every part
of the city to run down tips. In
some quarters there was talk of
mob vengeance if the murderer
were apprehended.

One report told of a man wash-
ing out the interior of his sedan at
a house on Johnson Street. He was
arrested, and his car, a ragged silk
slip and a jar of gasoline were
seized. He was able to give a sat-
isfactory explanation of why he
was removing spots from the auto
upholstery, however.

Another call supplied the infor-
mation that a man with a band-
aged hand was making strange in-
quiries at a North Jefferson Ave-
nue barber shop. When the detec-
tives arrived, he had departed.
Two youths were quizzed at head-
quarters because they had taken
their car to.a paint shop for re-
painting and anonymous persons
detected “bloodstains” on the ma-
chine. They were released after
proving that their activities on
Sunday night were above suspicion.
A cook at the cafeteria was grilled,
as were a suspected ‘Peeping Tom”
and a half-dozen others. But all
were able to prove their innocence.

Then, the day before Lincoln’s Birthday, .

1905, Detective Herlihy woke up one night
to find himself recovering from either
drink or chloral in the Menger Hotel at
San Antonio! And his prisoner had dis-
appeared !

But the quiet little man, Blocker, was not
so easily outmaneuvered. With the help of
the honest police of Houston, he located
his quarry on a British merchantman in
Galveston harbor and found out that Dodge
and Bracken intended to go by tug to Tam-
pico, Mexico, from the British ship.

Blocker wired frantically for funds and
the telegraph wires began pouring in the
money from Jerome.

And when the tug Hughes steamed up
to the British ship and took off the fugi-
tives, the tugboat captain was working un-
der orders from Blocker, who had used
Jerome’s name to win over the captain of
the chartered boat!

The captain of the tugboat had his or-
ders. He was to take Dodge and Bracken
to Brownsville, Texas, and land them
there two days later.

Beck pusy on land, enlisted the serv-
ices of Captain John R. Hughes of
Company D of the Texas Rangers. And,
while Blocker was hastening over land to
the scene of action, Lieutenant Ross of
the Rangers instructed by wire, loitering at
the desk of the night clerk at the Miller
House, Brownsville, registered the two
fugitives at that place under false names
the night they landed.

Thence the fugitives, under watch of the
Rangers, went to Alice where, disguised as
the night clerk, Trooper Harrod registered
them. They arrived there February 17 and
it was the trooper himself, suppasedly the
night clerk, who purchased for Dodge and
Bracken the tickets for Monterey, Mexico.

With that proof of the intended bail
jumping in, their pocket, Captain Hughes,
with Blocker in the backgrotnd, closed in
on the fugitives at Alice and took them
into custody.

Another habeas was sworn out but when
Chief of Police Wright of Neuces, Texas,
served it on Captain Hughes and demanded
the prisoner, .that indomitable scrapper
pulled his two six-guns and said:

“If you’ve got men enough and guts
enough to take this bird from my Rangers,
reach for your shooting iron!”

Chief Wright didn’t reach!

He raised such a rumpus about it, alleg-
ing that the law was being laughed at, that
Little Abe directed that his forces demand
that the prisoner be turned over to the cus-
tody of United States Marshal John W.
Vann of Alice.

“The Marshal can accompany me and the
prisoner back to Houston,” was Captain
Hughes’ comment.

At Houston, Judge Burns, who had heard
the injunction case, informed that Kaffen-
burgh of Little Abe’s office had tried to

get a prisoner out of his jurisdiction,
chased Kaffenburgh out of the state and
David May, another Hummel agent, jour-
neyed to the south to direct operations.

In the meantime, not only weeks but
months were passing by and as they passed
Little Abe continued to walk about a free
man and continued to direct the legal skir-
mish from Pontin’s saloon on Franklin
Street, his newest hangout.

Dodge, a practical prisoner, out on bail
furnished by Captain Jim Morse, upon
whose fat purse Little Abe made some
luscious pickings, for the sum total of
dea? was being kept under guard at the

ice Hotel in Houston, with Bracken as
his counsellor and entertainer. No move
could be made, even though his extradi-
tion had been ordered, until the decision of
the federal judge was forthcoming.

HEN ON December 2, 1904, Nathaniel

Cohen of Hummel’s staff, appeared on
the scene with a plan so daring, so extraor-
dinary, so bizarre that it had all the ear-
marks of a fantastic tale by Eugene Sue
or Alexander Dumas.

The plot, in short, was to save the hide
of the notorious Little Abe by the simple
expedient of putting Dodge into his grave!
Dodge, a man of poor health, had to die
in order that Little Abe might remain free.
A gun? Aknife? Poison? Shucks, ama-
teur killers employed those means, killers
in story books! Something more subtle,
more refined had to be the means for a
Hummel! So, probably in the Hummel
saloon hangout, it was decided to permit
Dodge to go his mad and merry way to the
grave via Wine, Women and Song!

Under the direction of Cohen, and aided
and abetted by Bracken, the attempt to
drown a man with liquor and love began.

He did not have a conscious moment
when he wasn’t imbibing a drink or lolling.
around in the arms of an inmate of a
Houston house of prostitution. It was re-
ported to Jerome’s office that $10,000 was
spent between December 2 and December
23, 1904, in the abortive attempt to remove
the witness from the picture in a way that
never could be called murder. But it was
all unavailing. .For the sixty-year-old wit-
ness, gray as a rat and gaunt as a ghost,
could take it; and when his body chemistry
rebelled against the abuse of the liquor, he
merely passed out of the picture, reviving
again under the stimulation of more liquor.

Day by day Cohen and Bracken, like vul-
tures upon a tree, awaited the passing out
of their precious charge. Blocker knew
what was going on; Federal Marshal Han-
son was aware of it; a whole gang of un-
derworld characters, back north in New
York City, were watching it from 1,500
miles away, knowing that the death of
Dodge would save their friend and mouth-
piece, the diminutive lawyer who knew this
was his last, desperate chance.

But Dodge’s body chemistry refused to

PEORIA’S LOVE WOLF

oratory were unable to make any helpful
deductions through their examination of
the particles taken from beneath the vic-
tim’s fingernails.

The “board of strategy” had no course
other than continuing to run down the
multifarious tips supplied by public-spirited
citizens, and to question all suspects, .no
matter how slight their connection with the
case might appear to be. There was bound
to be a break sooner or later... .

Ox THURSDAY AFTERNOON Sergeant Har-
ley Cole, at police headquarters, lis-
tened to one of the hundreds of tips which

had been telephoned in on the murder mys-
tery. It was a woman’s voice. She spoke
with some hesitancy, as if she were afraid
she might be making an unfair accusation,
and she firmly refused to give her name.

“Maybe I should have reported this be-
fore,” she began, “but at the time I didn’t
pay much attention to it.... Anyway,
last Monday morning I saw this young man
cleaning the cushions in the rear of his
car. He was using ammonia or gasoline—
something like that, rubbing it in with a
cloth. Later I noticed he had bought some
seat covers for his car... :”

“What’s his name?” Sergeant Cole de-

take the lethal dose and that plan came §
a cropper! Weary from his long fight, §
Little Abe gave up and, for once, appealed %

to his office help for aid. They had no
panacea, so he telegraphed Cohen to try
something else “in the meantime.”

Cohen, either by the use of bribe money
in high places or by a story wilder than
anything contained in fiction, induced
Sheriff Rich of Wharton County, Texas,
to swear in a posse comitatus of 100 men
to “rescue” Dodge from the custody of
United States Marshal William N. Han-
son at Houston. Sheriff Rich, Blocker
learned, hired as members of his posse
gunmen of the notorious “Woodpeckers”
and “Jay Birds,” warring factions who

_ would shoot at the fall of a hat and would

go to any extent for the price of a few
hard drinks.

ust asout this time Judge Burns

handed down a decision dismissing the
injunction and then he ordered Marshal
Burns personally to conduct Dodge to Gal-
veston, Texas, and personally to take him
to New York City.

This was done and on December 23, 1904,
Dodge arrived in New York City and was
locked up in the Tombs to await trial.

On January 28, 1905, Jerome placed be-
fore the Grand Jury the facts of the Morse-
Dodge marital mix-up with the history of
Little Abe’s activities in it.

A true bill, charging conspiracy to annul
the Morse marriage by subornation of per-
jury, was returned against the little mouth-
piece and he was arrested. On May 20 he
was disbarred from practice. He went on
trial December 14, 1905, and was convicted
after a week’s airing of his activities. He
was sentenced to serve one year on Black-
well’s Island in the penitentiary and was
fined $1,000. On May 10, 1907, the con-
viction was sustained and ten days later
Abe entered the penitentiary. When the
door closed on him, it closed also upon his
career. Kaffenburgh was later disbarred
and the remnants of Howe and Hummel
vanished from the courts.

On January 22, 1926, in London, Eng-
land, Little Abe, a lone old man who had
spent his last efforts in doing kindnesses
for the needy and the deserving, as if by
this eleventh hour gesture toward decency
he wanted to warn youth against the pit-
falls he had encountered, was gathered
unto his ancestors.

Among lawyers his name will outlive
thousands who call themselves great; not
because he attracted attention to himself
by his rascality and his resourcefulness, but
because, crooked beyond all doubt as he
was, he was, at heart, the type one calls a
“good little fellow.” His worst fault was
an innate contempt for what men call jus-
tice which, in his eyes, not being perfect,
naturally had to be the pawn of the brain-
iest of those who move human beings across
the chess board of life!

From page 13

manded of the caller.

“Thompson—Jerry Thompson. He lives
with his grandmother at 211 West Moneta
Avenue, Peoria Heights.”

Welty, Ford and other detectives went
to work. Probably just another bum
steer, they told themselves, yet it couldn't
be overlooked.

The latest suspect’s full name, they
learned, was Gerald T. Thompson. Twen-
ty-six years old and unmarried. Employed
as a drill press operator at the Caterpillar
Tractor plant in East Peoria. It took only
a few random inquiries among his ac-

quaintances to establish the fact that his

reputation was not al
two young men came
they had been “lay
eager to punish him {
on a Peoria girl.
The investigators v
neta Avenue addres:
room found an incr
book—a diary whic
saults upon sixteen
“Looks like he’s
Detective Welty, t)
book. “Whew! T
been written on asb:
Each attack had b
and in glowing tert
Thompson was a “l
on unwary girls! $
tion of the attack
death of Mildred H:
he was, Thompson
cent of the slaying.
“Sure, maybe he
about it,” Detective
certainly look like t
He held out a |
hanging with Thc
and pointed to som
The stains were 0!
legs and on the cuf
Welty whistled.
partner.

[ener imATION of
and the search
finding of the dia
sers had consumed
near midnight_by
went to the East
picked up two nig
pany them, and

plant, where the
known to Sergea
company police.

Reilly, after a c!
Thompson workec
plant and would
12:30.

A supervisor V
and informed tl
wanted outside.
was “nervous as
and remarked, “I
with me.”

Then the suspe
police officers.

“T know what
blurted. ‘If I hi
girl, I wouldn't

“What do yot
demanded.

Thompson sid
fusing to elaboré

But a little lat
being arrested f
mark case, he e
will these peopl
father works i
do!”

Was this a co:
it the natural r¢
son dragged int
murder mystery
received unfavc
because they h
the course of th

The victim’s
worked the sar
plant. Their t
distance apart.

Carl Kemp, t
that Thompson
since the trage
usual Monday |
body was four
Wednesday and
about his duti
ployes talked ¢
Springdale. It
twenty-five cei
funeral of the

TALKING VT OVER

ve
\-

ARR.

Ps Baa
' f—
yr la —\, i
PN \
RACTICALLY EVERYONE AN }
P::: a suggestion for
the President or Con- saan hs d
gress these days, which em- _— j/ Ve
boldens us to offer one of our ~
own. Out of all the millions, ~ X

billions or quadrillions being
passed out for this and for
that, why can’t a paltry few thousand be set aside for pen-
sions for the wives and families of G-Men killed or incapaci-
tated in the line of duty?

Praise of the G-Men and their colorful exploits is on
everyone’s lips. They have restored the respect for federal
sleuths which everyone had in pre-prohibition days. Quietly,
persistently, effectively, they have worked day and night to
rid the country of the Dillingers, the Barrows, the Floyds,
the Hauptmanns. Their record is one to make every red-
blooded American puff out his chest with pride.

These G-Men are mostly recruited from the ranks of young
accountants and lawyers. Like many public servants, their
salaries are small. These average somewhere between
twenty-five hundred and thirty-five hundred a year. Only in
exceptional cases is it possible for G-Men to earn as high
as seventy-five hundred dollars annually. Certainly, this bril-
liant force is not overpaid. Certainly, no one can fairly ex-
pect them to create large estates out of the savings from
such meager incomes.

Yet, at present, there is no adequate provision for the
wives and families of G-Men maimed or killed by the bul-
lets of the underworld. REAL Detective understands that
Department of Justice men voluntarily tax themselves to cre-
ate a fund for this purpose. It also has in mind that Con-
gress has passed special bills authorizing payments of small
amounts to the widows of one or two G-Men killed in action
and that before Congress, as this is
written, is a measure authorizing five
or ten thousand dollars in a lump sum

Frame-up, The Dreyfus
Case.” This fascinating
inside account of how
France once persecuted one
of her most loyal Jewish
citizens, is being withheld
> until the November maga-
zine. Just as the October
magazine was going to press, a Peoria judge sentenced
Gerald Thompson, rapacious love-wolf, to the electric chair
for the murder of beautiful, young Mildred Hallmark. REAL
DETECTIVE’s special investigator, Roger M. Franck, was un-
usually fortunate in getting the full, inside details of this
sensational case to us quickly. Therefore, we decided to run
this hot, current story, “The Mystery of Peoria’s Love
Wolf” in this, the October issue, and to save the Dreyfus
treat for you until next month.
e
Gerald Thompson, the sex-drunk Peoria, youth, thought
he could have as easy a time with Mildred Hallmark as he
had with scores of other victims. He boasted that he had
ravished one girl or young married woman for each week
of the year—fifty-two victims in fifty-two weeks. -He had
worked out a system and kept a diary about it. He would
draw up in his automobile beside a young woman and induce
her to ride. Then he would drive out to a lonely road or
into a cemetery. First, he would try gentle methods of pet-
ting. When these failed, he would grip the girl’s arms in a
one-handed hold he had perfected and scissor her under-
clothes with his free hand. After accomplishing his pur-
pose, he would motor his victim back into town and let her
go free. He counted, and up to the Hallmark tragedy: suc-
cessfully, upon the reluctance of his victim to expose herself
to the publicity attendant upon a complaint to authorities.
Had any of these victims confided in
the police in time, the Hallmark mur-
der probably never would have taken

for the families of all G-Men who, in place. However, when the brutally
the future, may die in the line of duty. AT T E N T I O N beaten body of Mildred Hallmark was

While this latest Congressional ac-

found and the search was on for her

tion is a step in the right direction, it Newspapermen, Sheriffs, attacker, several previous victims of

is REAL Derective’s opinion that the
proposed legislation is not nearly gen-
erous enough.

Police Officers

the ravisher did communicate with of-
ficials. Among them, was an unnamed
young woman who gave such a vivid

G-Men are as truly soldiers of the REAL DETECTIVE pays top description of her assailant, that it was

republic, as though they were in front-
line trenches in time of war. Day
after day, they face the bullets of an

rates for stories of true crime.
It especially wishes accurately

of material aid in bringing about
young Thompson’s apprehension.
After Thompson had been sentenced

enemy as savage and deadly as con- told murder stories involving to the chair, it was announced by au-
fronted our doughboys in the Ar- brilliant detective work. You _ thorities that this young woman would
gonne. If it is right to provide gen- do not need to be a writer, but receive $920.50 as part of the reward

erous pensions, bonuses and war-risk
insurance for the uniformed heroes, it
is right to do so for these heroes out

with these daring and capable young magazine.
men who have made America safe once
again for its law-abiding citizens.

you do need to be in full pos- which had been offered for the appre-
session of all the facts. For
of uniform. Let’s not be niggardly complete details, write this

hension and conviction of the killer.
Henry Newman, who told authorities
about Thompson’s attack upon the
daughter of a friend, was to receive a
like amount.

; REAL DETECTIVE bd

In a blurb in September REAL De-
TECTIVE, the editors promised that this
issue (October) would contain the
story of “The World’s Greatest

444 Madison Ave.
New York City

Two interesting bits of recent crime
news had to do with marital troubles.
The first is a survey made by the Ali-
mony Reform League, which disclosed
— (Continued on page 94)

Detectives Ford and Welty took their
prisoner back to Peoria headquarters,
where other officers joined them in start-
ing a long session of questioning.

ONFIDENTLY THOMPSON told the inquis-
itors of his movements on the night
of the crime.

“I took my girl to the movies—she’s
Lola Hughes, living at 209 Machin Ave-
nue, and I’ve been going with her for four
years—and drove her to her home around
eleven or 11:30,” he said. “We talked for
a while, then I drove to my home where
I live with my grandparents, and went to
bed. ... I never knew Mildred Hallmark.
Why, I felt as badly about the killing as
anybody else when t read about it in the
newspapers. In the shop they passed
around a petition demanding vengeance, or
something like that, and I was one of the
signers.”

Prosecutor Champion, taking the lead in
the quizzing, sought to put Thompson off
his guard by encouraging him to talk of
other things than the crime. He drew out
the information that the youth had lived
in Peoria for five years, having lived prior
to that time in Quincy, Illinois, where he
attended grade school and two terms of
high school. Thompson said he had
worked at the Caterpillar plant ever since
his arrival in the city, with the exception of
a few months in 1934 when he was em-
ployed at the Bemis Bag Company.

Suddenly the inquisitors shoved the in-
criminating diary under Thompson’s nose.

“My God! Where did you get that?”
he demanded.

“Never mind—but this is enough to in-
volve you pretty deeply. -If you’ve com-
mitted the attacks listed in this book, you
wouldn’t hesitate to kill a girl who resisted
you or threatened to expose you.”

Little by little, Thompson was led to talk
about his fiendish “love wolf” activities.
Still denying any connection with the Hall-
mark case, he nevertheless boasted of the
sex adventures which, he admitted, had ex-
tended over a period of seven years.

“I got away with it the first time,” he
explained, “and I noticed that nobody made
any kick, so I tried it again and it was the
same way.”

He revealed proudly that he had a regu-
lar “system” in preying on girls. He dem-
onstrated the “hold” he used to lock a
victim’s arms and make her helpless. He
had removed the inside handle on the right-
hand front door of his car so that girls
could not open it and leap out, and he had
riveted the shift lever knob to prevent its
possible use as a weapon of defense against
him,

Several times, he declared, he forced his
ravished victims to stand nude in the rays
of the car’s headlights so that he could
photograph them. Then if they threat-
ened to report to the authorities, he as-
serted he would circulate the pictures.

“T always liked to get married women
best,” he told the astounded inquisitors,
“because they fight harder.”

He confessed he had posed in the nude
with girls while a friend took photo-
graphs which later were sold to the dis-
tributors of “sex novelties.”

HE QUESTIONING went on relentlessly

hour after hour. He was asked how the
bloodstains had got on his trousers, and
how he had received a scratch on the chin
and teeth marks on his thumb.

“Oh, I had quite a fight with a girl I
picked up the early part of last week,”
Thompson responded. “That was three or
four nights before Mildred Hallmark was
killed.”

When discrepancies were pointed out in
his alibi, he offered glib explanations or
simply shrugged his shoulders and defied

his accusers to prove that his story was
untrue. The quizzing continued through
the night with practically no interruption.
Finally, toward noon on Friday, he showed
the first signs of weakening, and was sub-
mitted to the lie detector.

While the instrument recorded his reac-
tions, he was forced to go over his whole

es! again.
e was asked the direct question: “Did
you kill Mildred Hallmark?”

The answer was “No,” but the jagged
graph of the lie detector showed a sudden
leap both in pulse and respiration.

This ordeal over, he was placed in a cell
for a brief respite. The inquisitors were
certain now of his guilt. Prosecutor
Champion and Chief Nussbaum dropped
every other phase of the investigation.

When questioning was resumed the au-
thorities hit upon a dramatic bit of strat-
egy. Without warning, they cast before
him the blood-stained dress, the ripped un-
dergarments and the crumpled hat Mildred
had worn when she met death.

“Take them away!” Thompson screamed,
shielding his eyes. “My God, I don’t know
how you can expect me to stand that!”

He slumped in his chair, defeated.

There was a tense moment of silence.
Then—

“Oh, my poor grandmother, my poor
grandmother !” the prisoner sobbed.

“Don’t you think you’d better tell us ex-
actly how it happened?” Prosecutor Cham-
pion asked. “It won’t help you to hold out
any longer... .”

“All right, I did it! But you know I
didn’t mean to kill her; you know that,
don’t you?”

Completely unnerved, Thompson began
his confession.

HE HAD TAKEN Lola Hughes home, he
said, and was taking a circuitous route
to his own home when, at the corner of
Knoxville and Pennsylvania Avenues, he
saw Mildred Hallmark waiting for a street
car. She had left the Knoxville car there
to transfer to a Heights car that would take
her closer to her home.

Thompson, according to his statement,
pulled up to the curb and invited the girl
: ride with him. At first she ignored

im,

“Tf you’re going out toward the Heights
I can take you,” the youth told her. “I’m
going out that way myself.”

“T tried to pet her, and I kissed her,”
Thompson said. “I had to hold her. She
didn’t want me to kiss her. I told her I
wanted to love her. She asked me what it
was, and I said, ‘You know what it is.’ She
said she did not want to.”

Finally he half dragged her into the
back seat. “If you can talk me out of this
back here,” he told her, “I'll let you go
home.

“Then I tried to succeed in a nice way,”
the prisoner confessed. “I did lots of talk-
ing and finally tried to force her by hold-
ing her arms behind her back. She started
to scream. I choked her to keep her from
screaming, and then I let loose of her
throat and she bit me on the left thumb.
I jerked my hand away and she scratched
me. ... This made me mad. I hit her on
the jaw and she lay back in the seat. Then
I attacked her.”

When the girl failed to revive Thompson
became panic-stricken.

“At first I thought I would undress her
and hide her clothes somewhere so she
couldn’t be identified,” he explained. “I

cut her clothes with a scissors and took off
her shoes and stockings. I -got in the
front seat and started to drive. I went
out of the cemetery, but then I changed
my mind. I was afraid to drive through
town with her in the back seat. I figured
she might come to, or something, so I
drove back into the cemetery.”

It was on lonely Valley Road that he
stopped again. He lifted the body out of
the car. e listened for a heartbeat, but
his own heart was pounding so wildly that
he couldn’t tell whether the girl were alive
or not. He slid the corpse down the bank
into the ditch, then threw the clothing in
after it—all except the dress, which was
already wadded under her arms.

Thompson denied he had inflicted the
scalp wound, despite the evidence of blood
on his car and trousers. Likewise, he said
Mildred must have sustained the broken
neck in being cast into the ditch.

He drove home after disposing of the
body, but was so nervous that he couldn’t
sleep. Next morning, he found the blood-
stains on the auto upholstery, removed
them with ammonia and later bought seat
covers for the car.

Tonal THOUGH NEWS of Thompson’s de-
tention had been withheld from the
press, rumors were spreading through the
ey that the Hallmark slayer was in cus-
tody and had confessed. The authorities
were determined to take no chances with
lynch law, and so, early Saturday morning,

heriff Olson spirited Thompson away to
the jail in Bloomington, where he was
booked as “Harry Myers.” From Bloom-
ington he was taken to Clinton, and later to
the jail in Decatur.

Brought back from Decatur early on the
morning of Wednesday, June 26, under
heavy guard, he was arraigned at a special
court session and pleaded not guilty.

“Judge, why don’t you give me a break?”
Thompson whined.

The court appointed Attorney Ben Thur-
man to defend him, and he was placed in
a saiitary cell in the Peoria jail to await
trial,

A few days later the Thompson family
was struck .by a new tragedy. Vic-
tor Thompson, younger brother of the con-
fessed killer, was arrested on a charge of
taking indecent liberties with an eight-
year-old child. He was held in a cell not
far removed from that of the slayer.

Mrs. Florence Whiteside, the boys’
mother, suffered a nervous breakdown as a
result of the double tragedy and had to be
taken to a hospital. It was disclosed that
she was but fourteen years old when she
was married to Gibbs Bowers in Quincy.
Her husband, described by Attorney Thur-
man as “sexually insane,” allegedly sub-
jected her to all manner of abuse during
their six years together. He deserted her
after Victor was born. The mother ob-
tained a divorce and remarried, and the
boys went to live with their grandparents,
Mr. and Mrs. George Thompson, even
adopting “Thompson” as their name.

When Gerald Thompson went on trial
for his life in a packed courtroom before
Judge Joseph E. Daily the latter part of
July, the defense sought to prove that be-
cause of his background and his heritage,
he was insane at the time he killed innocent
Mildred Hallmark. Attorney Thurman
even tried to introduce into evidence the
“little black book” in which he told of at-
tacks on sixteen women and attempted as-
saults on sixty-seven others, but the diary
was not admitted. However, one defense
witness told the jury Thompson had
boasted he would have fifty-two women
during the year—one for every week—and
that he was far ahead of his schedule.

Although the jurors doubtless were con-
vinced that Thompson was sex-mad, they

could not
when the
they likew
from the \

was wrun;
vation. S
was too st
The jur
evening of
the inevit
“We thi
of murder
at death.”
Thomps
changed, :
But in the
later he t
“My God!
over.
At last”
his just «
the shado:

BELL!
BANI

“Maybe
‘hot car’
line on 1
Buick, an
the case

DeMart
gether th
puzzle.
assistance
locate the
from whic
He was «
contractor

Presses
tripped uj
ing the th
to the inf
pany was
claim, cat
having a
Finally h:

“T need
heard ab
car away
stolen an
don’t kno
him indir

A casu:
the tip al
interview
DeMarti:
Thalrose.

“Tf this
to the B«
the Buic!
York po
working.
few ridd

HIL!
was
of Thalr
line of 1
after the
a farmer
Hicksvill
story.
“T’'ve 1
case in 1
think I:
you. Sh
suppose,
mixed uj
*“Tt’s N
know,” I
“Well,
a black ]
road out:
in to ask
of them

rs and took off
I got in the
drive. I went
hen I changed
drive through
seat. I figured
mething, so I

Road that he
1e body out of
heartbeat, but
: so wildly that
girl were alive
down the bank
the clothing in
‘ss, Which was
arms.

1 inflicted the
dence of blood
kewise, he said
ed the broken
ditch.

sposing of the
nat he couldn’t
und the blood-
tery, removed
er bought seat

‘hompson’s de-
held from the
ig through the
er was in cus-
‘he authorities
» chances with
irday morning,
npson away to
vhere he was
From Bloom-
on, and later to

ur early on the
une 26, under
ied at a special
ot guilty.

e mea break?”

ney Ben Thur-
was placed in
a jail to await

ompson family
tragedy. Vic-
her of the con-
yn a charge of
vith an eight-
d in a cell not
he slayer.
de, the boys’
sreakdown as a
‘and had to be
s disclosed that
old when she
ers in Quincy.
\ttorney Thur-
allegedly sub-
f abuse during
fe deserted her
he mother ob-
rried, and the

¢ grandparents,
hompson, even
eir name.

went on trial
irtroom before
latter part of
prove that be-
d his heritage,
killed innocent
‘ney Thurman
o evidence the
he told of at-
| attempted as-
, but the diary
‘r, one defense
‘hompson had
‘ty-two women
‘ery week—and
is schedule.
tless were con-
sex-mad, they

sith wliniiett

could not believe he was legally insane

when the murder took place. Apparently
they likewise doubted his own assertions
from the witness stand that the confession
was wrung from him by threats and star-
vation. State’s Attorney Champion’s case
was too strong to be knocked down.

The jury went out to deliberate on the
evening of July 31. Four hours later came
the inevitable verdict:

“We the jury find the defendant guilty
of murder, as charged, and fix the penalty
at death.”

At last Peoria’s “love wolf” had received
his just deserts. At last he was within
the shadow of the electric chair!

BELLMORE BANK
BANDITS

“Maybe they have some tie-up with the
‘hot car’ racket,” he commented. “Get a
line on those stolen plates and on the
Buick, and we ought to be able to crack
the case wide open.”

DeMartini went to work piecing to-
gether the fragments in this bewildering
puzzle. His first step, taken with the
assistance of the New York police, was to
locate the men who had owned the Ford
from which the getaway plates were taken.
He was one Julius Presses, an electrical
contractor, who lived in the city.

Presses, under close questioning, was
tripped up in several discrepancies regard-
ing the theft of his car. This fact, added
to the information that the insurance com-
pany was skeptical about the contractor’s
claim, caused DeMartini to accuse him of
having arranged the theft of the Ford.
Finally he broke down and confessed.

“I needed money,” he explained, “and I
heard about a fellow who might take my
car away so that I could claim it was
stolen and collect the insurance. But I
don’t know his name; I got in touch with
him indirectly.”

A casual acquaintance had given Presses
the tip about the “hot car” racketeer. By
interviewing him and some of his friends,
DeMartini finally heard the name of Benny
Thalrose.

“Tf this man Thalrose supplied the Ford
to the Bellmore mob, he probably supplied
the Buick, too,’ DeMartini told the New
York police officers with whom he was
working. “Let’s find him and ask him a
few riddles.”

From page 23

HILE THIS ANGLE of the investigation

was concentrated on the apprehension
of Thalrose, I struck a new and profitable
line of inquiry at Mineola. A few days
after the hold-up murder, Frank Bergold,
a farmer residing a few miles outside of
Hicksville, came to me with a promising
story.

“T’ve been reading about this Bellmore
case in the papers,” he told me, “and I
think I might have some information for
you. Should have come to you before, I
suppose, but I sort of hesitated to get
mixed up with it... .”

“It’s your duty to tell anything you
know,” I reminded him.

“Well, on the afternoon of the robbery,
a black Hudson coach broke down on the
road outside my house, and four men came
in to ask if they could use the phone. One
of them called a number and talked to a

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520 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ilt.
89

HOMPSON, Gerald, white, elec, Ill. SP (Peoria) on 10/15/1935,

ve Fe ay

Ls
ke

With the Inhuman Rapist
Confessing Scores of As-
saults, on Trial for Mur-
der, He Begs, "Aw, Give
Me a Chance, Judge!”

the children many years before. .

It was one of the hardest tasks of their lives, Welty
and Ford said after, to break the news to the old couple
that Jerry was in custody, suspected not only of being
a confirmed rapist but of being the Hallmark slayer.

THE old couple were stunned. They broke into indig-
nant protests that Jerry was not that kind of a boy.
“My baby! My little Jerry!” cried Mrs. Thompson

brokenly. “Don't the police know he couldn’t do any-

thing like that? He’s a good boy, He never caused us

a moment of worry in his life. A rapist? A girl

killer? Jerry, who's engaged to one of the sweetest

~e in the world? Oh, no! It's all a horrible mistake.
now.

Her aged husband
sat in a chair, shaking
his head and adding
his protests to hers.
Presently a third voice
was added, that of

i Jerry’s younger broth-

: er, Victor, 23 years
old, who had ‘been
awakened by the com-
motion,

“We are not the ones
who have to be con-
vinced,” the detectives
told them. “We are
here under orders to
search the house.”

“Go ahead! Look
anywhere you want!
You won't find any-
thing, because there
isn't anything to be
found,” cried Mrs.
Thompson,

Wi sind L247 gf opin

Member of the Peoria, Illinois, Police fox fe
Must Remain Unidentified) — ae

(Ps

UA a cee Mat is ve
-Part Three and Conclusion porter fa
ITH the coming of daylight Jerry Thompson's, , The finds were in themselves trivial—a couple of i
sedan was. subjected to. a microscopic inspec- hairpins and a pair of light scissors. The hairpins, 5
é tion. First identification experts Went over it however, matched those Mildred Hallmark had worn; as . smashed
in search of finger-prints that might prove to be identical - and it was recalled that one of the much-wanted rapist’s by . Thompso 4
with those which had been taken of the slain Mildred. . victims had mentioned that, unable to tear off her one N
Hallmark, They found none, Indeed, after that thor- ' clothing with his fingers rapidly enough to suit him, he ‘utetda ‘ \ 14 iq A
ough cleaning which Thompson had given the careon’. had produced a pair of scissors and cut off some of i 0 °
Monday; it was not expected ghat ney would be dis-, _her garments! 1 f :
covered, assuming that the girl ever had been in the airpins and scissors did not prove anything, of - A
car. Orders of Chief Nussbaum, however,. had been to course, but they appeared significant, \. A " BY
overlook no possibility," Ree et Ne ELON . : al ™
. he new seat covers were ripped off and the spots DETECT IVES Ford and Welty had been sent out ; dedre
which Thompson‘ had. been unable to remove ~’were to Thompson's new home in Peoria Heights to see steatlon 4
tested chemically~ to ascertain. if they .were human what they could learn, They found an elderly couple, e Lie Dete
~blood. Although the reaction of the spots indicated that/ Mr, and Mrs. George Thompson, well along in the sev- aintorar
they were indeed blood, the chemist Who made the test. enties, puzzled but’ not alarmed that their grandson, appeared
stefused to assert’ the: fact Positively without further’ Jerry, had not come in all night after his work at the omp
“tests. 2 ¥ a Ge eka AS tractor plant—due to his arrest. son was asked KNOW! MiLb
~ With: these ‘Important steps out of the way, the “Jerry's a good boy and never has caused us a bit ; eadina , 7]
Tugs.in the car and its removable seat: cushions were’ of bere g ’ said his grandmother, who, it developed, had questions HAU L N RIK $
him and his younger brother when her son-in- -

‘taken. out and the interior explored under. a -strong . adopted
light. 22058 sss eae oear ax - » law, Gilbert Bowers, “had deserted her daughter and

MIss R—the young woman who

.ceived in: her grandson must have: crossed her mind
a girl, both stark naked, in a variety. of poses. ms

-a chair, sobbing bitterly,"):.°

‘and Welty took a brown suit out of a closet—and upon.
-looking spots, ..

) things were delivered to Chief: Nussbaum,

«= 3“Go * and. bring Miss -°R,;”.°N aum instructed. »*
’-“Bring her here nodgyt ving as. you can’, .L havea ‘hu
that when she sees this fellow—" 9° ists eee

"| Started Out Making
Girls When | Was Sixteen.

Married Women Put up a

Better Fight Than Single

They took her at her word, with particular attention: .
aid to the room which she pointed out as belonging to
erry. Suspicion that she might have been grossly. de-

when froma hiding place in a closet they unearthed a: .

box which held a quantity of sex novelties, naughty
postcards—and a set of photographs showing Jerry and

HER protests grew weaker, her face took ‘on a look
of horror and.unbelief..:: Eventually she sank into

Jerry had told the detectives that ‘on the Sunday.
night. of the murder he had worn a: brown’ suit. Ford.

the trousers near the cuff of. one leg found. ominous -

“*L think,” one of’ the detectives’’said when’ these
that) we have... ;

our man—if we can just prove: it.”

ea mates ie
“had fallenuvictim: to

Peoria’s rapist and had. volunteered :to: come -for- ':

“. ward. to ‘identity: him—met;:younk: Thompson ia the...

date,” she said at length. :

same office where a day, or- ‘two. before she-had ‘cone. 0
fronted: Anthony Smith and“ put: the finger: on him:: °° €
Thompson had been seated ‘in a. chair, half turned . appo

gwen a_ window, and .a. strong’ light «sho

ace. ¥ ea : Fy Sti OP bide adhe Ro tes, .

“Miss R’s eyes widened noticeably when” she laid .

eyes upon him. Then unaccountably she began to bite Q

her lips. A perplexed look. crept over her face. °°! : * end o
“This is the man with whom I went on that, blind da

“Is that right, Thompson?" asked Nussbaum

ate fy eb NT Sr aeten

“upon his

"A
Pa
eee need

“I guess it is,” said Thomp-
son sullenly, .“That is, if she

says so. -1 don’t remember:

her, though; what she looked
like, | mean.”

“Why, you haven't , even
looked at her, Jerry.”

THE prisoner fidgeted in his
chair, but he said noth-
ing. His eyes were, indeed,
fixed upon the floor as if for
some reason he did not wish
to look Miss R full in the
face, ~

The girl ‘spoke suddenly
and her voice was broken,
“Chief, I’m afraid I have
made a horrible mistake. |
was deceived by more than
a passing resemblance. An-
thony Smith is-innocent. This
man is the Lee Bridges who
attacked me!” ,

“You are certain .of it?
You aren’t making a second
mistake?”

“No, I’m’ not mistaken.
This is the man. I thought
so that night when | dated
with him. I was convinced
against my own_ judgment
that he was not. Then | saw
Smith at that dance—oh, how
can I ever forgive myself?
What can_I do to right things
with him? How can I—”

Thompson,” said — Nuss-

: baum sternly, breaking into

her contrite cries, “what have

you got to say to this?”
“She’s a liar. |. never at-

tacked her.” ’

to HEN lift your éyes, look
her in the face and tell
her so,” thundered the chief.
“What’s the matter? Can't
you face her, Jerry?”
Thompson had gone ghast-
ly white. His clenched fingers

acts Staats TS

moved spasmodically. He made an effort to lift: ms:
head, look at the girl and say something. ‘ He couldn't
do it! He twisted suddenly in his chair, turned his eyes
toward the window—and ‘started violently! :

Our eyes followed his—toward the window. Upon
a bench beneath it rested the tattered white dress, the
hat, the shoes and stockings which Mildred Hallmark
had worn to her death, and the plaid coat which bad’
covered her in the ditch! . :

APPARENTLY controlling himself by a great eflort,
Thompson turned back in his chair, lowered his
head and once more fixed his gaze upon the floor. You
could see that inwardly he was being shaken by little
nervous tremors, that his hands had a tendency to
tremble, that he kept licking his lips furtively as if they
had gone dry. Something had dealt him a tremendous
jolt!’ Was it because he had been expecting Miss R to
recognize him as her escort on that blind date, but not
to identify him as Lee Bridges—or was it the sight of
Mildred Hallmark’s pitiful garments which up to that
time he had not seen?

Miss R was escorted from the room by Chief Nuss-
baum, to be persuaded by him to ‘sign a formal com-
plaint of criminal assault against Thompson. This
would serve to hold him as long as we might wish
against any efforts to obtain his release, but it would
not become the basis of a charge leading to trial.

“ll even stand for that—let my story come out—
take the witness stand to see that fiend punished and to
make up for the trouble | have caused Anthony Smith, ;
if it becomes necessary,” the girl said impulsively. “I
don’t count now. Anything | may be called upon to
endure will be worth while if that man Thompson gets
what’s coming to him, whether it’s Yor what he did to
me or for killing that. girl—if he did it.”

HE details of what was said when, a bit later, she was
brought face to face with Anthony Smith and begged
from him forgiveness he was not slow to prant. are not
essential here. The young fellow, completely exoner-
ated, and bearing our sincere apologies, was released
immediately. He had paid a heavy penalty for look-
ing like the much-wanted rapist and for resembling
Jerry Thompson, but he did not hold resentment; he’s
the kind of chap of whom our best citizens are made.
Convinced as we were that the rapist and Thompson
must be one and the same man, and that there seemed
more than mere possibility that he also was Mildred’s
slayer, the task of proving something against’ him still
lay ahead of us,
It was not going to be easy. Thompson told us that
by the rapidity with which he rebounded from the. -

6 atl i oe nei ae tt tne tk Dene ine. a eh Eat alll

AS Pasy'a™ hint ‘that':sa

Ordeal of facing Miss R. The hall-hour or so letup in
questioning which followed it, had witnessed a return
of some of hiv cocky, Hippant manner, With Chiet
Nussbaum out of the room the rest of us tricked him
by starting up among ourselves a conversation which
revolved around sex, The exe Tnteret which he
had displayed in the subject previously was our cue,

He fell for it like the proverbial ton’ of bricks, You
could almost see him prick up his ears and listen, al

bit by bit his head began Hitting and his eyes raised
from the floor to start shooting little sidelong glances

at whoever happened to be speaking, It
Wis Casy cnough then, by directing a
casual reniark at him, to get him in-
cluded in the conversation, In no time
at all he was beginning to hog it.

AM anything but a prude, 1 do not,

object to an off-color or suggestive
story now and then; but I have great
contempt for a man with a lewd and
lascivious mind, and Jerry Thompson
earned that contempt to its highest de-
bree. His thoughts fairly reeked with
'Sex. He. told story after story of.’
/ amorous guests in which he had figured,
‘boasted of conquests: .
was careful to.mak
irls had’ been willing,

Petsuasiveness had."

Thompson’ we had the: Hallmark slayer,
; oing ‘to break him. if .it

4 Just’as if they had not gone all over’
the “ground :before;. Nussbaum,
_ /and-Ford ‘began: bom

Fs fist _with questions’ about’ t!

nowin,

“cookie
to him. +

YOM JERRY, thin
~£ Wwe can check your story scientifically,”

Under similar circumstances, and even
__ Was entirely innocent of the crime of which

cused, Iam not sure that '| would consent to anyone
using a lie detector on me. There is too great a possi-
bility that under the influence of some great emotion—

_ cy8ay terror at being accused of something you did not
_» do—the reactions, of your heart-beat and your blood-
Pressure might be such as to register on the machine’ an
evidence that poy lied when actually you were telling
p the: lie. detector’s

thé: truth.’ T; at, perhaps, is why.

of .us waite

findings never have been admitted as lepal evidence in
court

Jerty Thompson hardly hesitated betore he agreed
fo the test with the machine. While it was being
brought by Tavestipator Pred Trabant he prea Clievpelit
Ful ane his brow cortugated as th in deep concentration:
but while the cloth hinding was being: adjusted ta hic
ary Thompson displayed HOE Ctiteaty Cla ey tbc
ohne,

“

heard of those things but never saw one be-
fore,” he said to Tmpan, “Pust how does it work:

With these simple words Gerald Thompson
said farewell to the elderly grandparents
made prostrate by his arrest and conviction

‘He: listened interestedly to Imbau’s explanation.

- °“AlL right, let's. go,” he sai and the inquisition began.

Innocuous questions they were at first, having

3 -.* nothing to do with the murder. This is done to register

baum said
frankly. “If you are not, you should be willing

to submit yourself ‘to the lie detector machine so that

normal heart-beats and blood premre. But gradually
the questions grew closer to t e murder until after a
while we were fully launched upon it. Thompson an-
swered readily, it seemed, sticking to the story he had

. told from the first.

arm had recorded the suspect's blood pressure.
“How did | make it?” asked Thompson. His tones

peers, light, you’ might almost say amused,

mbau eyed him a for a*moment, and the rest
» 3 or what he should say, “It

an. ty
eee otis meters se)
pe. lt

Hid weed Tlaeonsnpe sean thee expert cad “N lot oof
ertlned hebben Hive thomyht they eet comteok Chen
thoughts enough to fool the detector, They just
coulda’t da it | Neither mover Phe tained te Mis
beatin Chet. the. uae tas hed perstenthy, think
he dalled that gue
Fhe Wad fed Thomapcn tn fora real sella ond |
ih Chat Plonipeue hae at He titned sathen, de
feat, aed tale the tine te woulda't answer a question
aeall, When he did) answer it Wars only after cone
serable deliberttion. and he nade his words as none
committal as possible
His attinnde only set ous after him

Inder Chan ever, cert now: that we
were on the right trail, that eventually
sonethine would happen that would
Chick the ease wide open, Usually it is
the breaking down of the suspect un-
det the constant oral hammering. You
generally can tell when a break Is com-
ing, and Thompson was giving every in-
dication that he had something on his
mind that would have. to come out
sooner or later. Under those conditions
all that is needed usually is just one lit-
tle mental push of some kind.

| DON’T recall who did il, but someone

of those present conceived a bril-
liant idea. I was watching Thompson’s
face and didn’t realize what. was going
on until the thing happened.

Suddenly upon the table in front
of Thompson fell the shoes, the hat and
the purse of Mildred Hallmark! Her
tattered white dress fluttered down upon
his lap, followed by her coat! .

Thompson leaped to his feet with a
yell. He hurled the dress and coat awa
from him, covered his face with his
hands to shut out the sight of the other
things upon the table.

‘Take them) away! Take them

away!” he screamed. “My God! 1 don’t know now
you expect me to stand that. They’re just like wit-
nesses standing there pointing a finger at you! Take
them away!”

HE break had come just like that. It had happened
the twinkling. of an eye, so rapidly that for a

moment we just sat and stared at him.
jompson’s shoulders were shaking. He kept his
hands to his face, but from behind them he spoke hol-
lowly: “My poor grandmother! Oh, my poor. grand-
nd this! [ can’t

long

mother! I don’t know how she will sta

any longer: ! want to

get it over with,”
Chi

spoke softly. “Then you
killed

erry

Having regained a
measure -of composure

Thompson nodded
violently, “Yes, I killed
ber!”

ief Nussbaum

_ Mildred Hallmark,

This picture was especially posed to show how Thompson claims he persuaded Mildred Hallmark: to enter his automobile when
he,saw her. waiting. for ‘a street car at Knoxville and Pennsylva nia Avenues. Knoxville ‘runs at right angles: inthe hackground :

feos areas - See een +h epee a nanan,

after that AlMision, he would have rushed into. his
contession then and there, apparently eager to get it
off his chest, but was restramed until a stenographer

could be obtained, Then, with State's Attorney Ih. Vv,
Champion asking the questions, he was permitted to tell
is story,

L HAD, Thompson said, bidden his sweetheart,

Lola Hughes, good night at her home after they
had attended a picture. show together, and was on his
nt to his new home in Peoria Heights, At Knox-
ville and Pennsylvania Avenues he saw a lone inl
standing as if wailing for a Peoria Heights car. [le
stopped his car opposite her and asked if she wanted
him to drive her home. She did not reply at first, but
eventually admitted that she was going “a long ways,
clear out to Ma wood,”
_. “I'm going eyond there and you might as well
ride,” he told her and, reluctant until he persuaded her,
she finally permitted him to help her into his car.

lis purpose already clear in his mind, he drove

off to reach her home, two blocks distant. She
called it to his attention. He told her she was not going
home just yet. She attempted to throw open the door
of the car and jump out, but he restrained her with
his id hand and drove with his left.

hen he turned into. the cemetery she displayed
alarm. And when he Stopped. the car at the side of
the road he- was compelled to hold her to keep. her

f you can talk me out of this back here, 1’ll
take you home,’ I told her. I did a lot of talking but
couldn’t get anywhere. | tried to force her by holding
her arm behind her back, and she started to scream,

I choked her to make her stop; then when I turned .
loose her throat she grabbed my left hand and bit the

thumb. I tried to kiss her and she bit me on the chin.

That made me mad and I socked her on the jaw. |

didn’t hit her hard, but she fell back on the seat and

then... then... I’ went ahead.”

‘Thompson was engaged ‘
while his rapist’s r
sf ter tin

rrr

~she recovered she probaby would

laid her down again and got back

-* Lola Hughes, to whom“: married woman. She usually put up
- some of the single girls,”
:. There was no doubt that he had indulged in quite a .

lot of this sort of thing. On the other hand, he was quite

He had found at Necessary,
he said, to tear her clothes ty
the course of ther ste tipple,

She continued to he stl,
and after a bit he became
alarmed and beat over to listen
for her heart; but—"my own
heart was beating so fast |
couldn't tell if she was alive ot
dead.”

It flashed into” his mind,
Thompson said, that dead or
just unconscious, he had better
get rid of her. He had given her
a fictitious mame for himself, Hf

not be able to identify him, Cal-
lously, then, he decided to dump
her out at the first likely spot
he could find. First, however, he
thought it would be a good idea
to delay identification of her if
she were found, so-—

"CUT off most of her clothes

with a pair of scissors | had
in the car. | took off her shoes
and stockings. Then | got afraid
someone might come along, so |

behind the wheel.

e drove around the ceme-
tery for a bit, looking for a
lace to leave her, He changed
is mind about it and decided
to drive across town and put her
in the river; but after leaving
the cemetery fear took Posses-
sion of him and he returned.
Unable to nerve himself “any
longer, he stopped opposite the
ditch alongside a winding road,
dragged her out by the arms and
rolled her over the embankment

‘A rare photograph ‘of any criminal: -
—showing: Thompson being. posed.’
for. .the Official. police ::. camera ;

Then he threw her things down on top of her and
drove home.

myou don’t feel at all bad about this, do you?”
someone asked him.
“Why be down-hearted?” he retorted, “|
didn’t mean to kill the girl. I didn’t hit her hard;
. just enough to make her do as | wanted.”
“You didn’t. know if she was dead or alive
when you put her in the ditch?”
. “No, I, didn’t know, My only idea was to get
:,, away from there as fast as I could.”
. Officer of the law that Iam, I could cheerfully
have slammed him on the Jaw as he had done to
** poor little Mildred Hallmark.
} € were waiting for the L-jpe dpe to re-
turn with the written transcript of is confession
when Thompson was asked if eé still insisted that
he had not been the assailant of Miss R,
~_,, “I might ‘as well come clean on that, too,” he
- Said coolly.
-; | “And on some others, too?” .
“Why not? You can’t do any more to me than
you can now if | admit everything.” a
- He was off again on another story of his con-
quests, only this. time he admitted that violence
“played a prominent Part in his depravities,
“I started out making girls when | was about
sixteen,” he said. “I foun out the best place to

5 Bet them’ was at the dance halls, | usually picked on the

rettiest girls | saw, and I'd hand them a line about
ow I was looking for a good girl tg go steady with.

That usually got them, but w en they found out |
. wanted to make bad girls of them——”" His eyes glis-
” tened and he paused as if reminded of something enjoy-
able; then he went on: ;

aay OTS of them put up an awful fight, and I ‘liked

that. That’s one reason I liked to get hold of a

a better .fight than

beastful, and it well might be that he was accusing him-
self of things that others ‘had done in order to remain
in the limelight.

“How many girls would you say vou had attacked?”

“Somewhere between sixty and eighty,”

It was astounding, hard to believe.

Thompson flared up when doubt was cast upon his
statement,

“PONT believe it, eh?” he sneered. “Well, | can

Prove a lot of it. A couple of years ago | began
keeping a diary that has got everything in it. You must
have overlooked it when you searched my room. It’s

s Thompson” had said, it was all there—dates,
names and addresses of the girls, what he had said to

White as if he had derived Supreme pleasure from mak-
ing the record,
ere was set down, too, those instances in which

he had used his final terrorizin touch—stripping his
victims, posing them in front of his headlights and pre-
tending to photograph them.

“That usually did the trick and kept them quiet,”
he said with a hint of pride.

“The electric chair is too good for you,” growled a
detective,

Next day the Papers emblazoned upon their front
Pages as much of his confession as was Printable. In no

a mob, aeigge.| the county jail to which Thompson ha
been taken, an Stringing him up to the nearest. lamp-
Post. :

T° SUCH a pitch had public indignation been aroused °

that it was found expedient’ to spirit him out of
town at once and lodge him in first one county jail then
another in the state, until the mob spirit died down ‘and
it would be safe to return him to Peoria.

Meanwhile the grand jury hastened to return an in-
dictment charging Tecensecs with murder, An insight .
into the workings of his mind may be gleaned from his
remark when the warrant based upon the indictment
was read to him. .

“Willful and malicious?” he cried, “Where do: they
get that stuff? I was neither willful nor malicious. |
didn’t intend to kill the girl,” . .

His attitude was that he should be punished lightly
for his crime on the (Continued on Page 37)

canecsuneenanee

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. Tho Riddl

grounds that there had been a lack of in-
tent. He apparently could not understand
why feeling dgitinst hin should cun high,
He gave little consideration to the atro-
cities which he had practiced upon so
many girls and women. Of remorse he
showed none. He was not sorry that Mil-
dred Hallmark was dead at his hands. He
was not sorry for her stricken family. He
was sorry only for himself and for his
grandparents and brother,

That brother, Victor, incidentally, did
not take warning from what had befallen
Jerry, for within a week he, too, was in
jail, charged with taking indecent liberties
with an foe ear-old boy. Victor came even
closer to eine lynched than ever Jerry
had been when officers, armed with a war-
rant, went to his home and placed him
under arrest.

Neighbors gathered around the little
green cottage on Monetta street which
was the Thompson. home, and uttered
‘loud threats against the youth. He was

_ rushed to safety, however, before a leader

for the embryo mob could develop, and
eventually was sentenced to from one to
ten years in; Joliet.

Jerry Thompson was brought back to
Peoria a week or so after his indictment
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(Continued from Page 27)

continually betore his face, and frome be-
hind them mumbled a plea of not guilty
Phe Deh no attorney, se pidge Dipti
appomted Attorney Ren Thurman as his
council, A thankless task, that, for ‘Uhur-

many but he accepted it and prepared to
do valiant battle fer his client. [lis first
request was that the trial be put off for
some time. Jodge Ingraham denied it,
fixed July 22 as the date upon which it

would start,

“Aw, Judge, give mea break," whined
Thompson,

A break, indeed! A break for him who
never had given any of bis defenseless girl
victims a break of any kind.

The tral began promptly on the day

scheduled, A jury was obtained epick ty
Dhte states is quite hy prresentedd ats ease
Thompson's prechounent seemed hope-
less from the start. [le had no defense ex-
eepl fo try nd prove: throuph rehatives
that from his father he had mbherited a
sex mania that made hin irresponsible.
The verdict was just about a lorepone
conclusion, The jury stayed out only long
enough to pive an oair of deliberation to
then proceediapgs, then came ia with the
decree that) Phompson must) expiste his
crime in the electric chair, Tle was sen-
fenced and paid with his fife at f2219 alm,

October 15, 1935,

Rise and Fall of Racketeer Barons

—The Purple Gang
(Continued from Page 31)

famous entertainers from New York.
This night club venture cost the Purples
a pretty penny—but there was plenty
more in the gang vaults. The youngsters
spent money with a lavish hand, and gay
parties with beautiful girls, who sometimes
boasted of $1,000 tips, were staged almost
nightly. This show of wealth, as would be
expected, attracted other would-be under-
world figures, and gradually a gang led by
the powerful Tom (Yonny) Licavoli be-
came active in Detroit. ‘The Licavolis cen-
tered most of their activities, however, in
rum-running—a racket long ago forsaken
by the Purples, so the rival mobsters rarely

et.

All of this time Inspector Joe Garvin
and his crack detectives had been prying
diligently into the Purples’ affairs, and fi-
nally they struck, ‘They had gathered
enough evidence to arrest several Purples
and hold them for trial on charges of con-
spiracy to extort money from Detroit
wholesale cleaners and dyers. Charles C. .
Jacoby, of the French Cleaners and Dyers
company, along with Abe Bernstein; Ray

Bernstein, Irv Milberg, Eddie Fletcher,

Joe (Honey Boy) Miller, Little Irvy Sha-
piro, Abe Axler, and Axler’s uncle, Simon
Axler, finally were put on trial before Re-
corder’s ae ge Charles Bowles, who later
was recalled from office sensationally, after
he had been elected Mayor of Detroit.

The state presented 42 witnesses, and
the trial began.on re 4, 1928. The Amer-
ican Federation of Labor pushed the case,
but finally early in September, nt 9
acquitted all of the defendants. hen
Frank X. Martel, president of the Detroit
Federation of Labor, was charged with
extorting money from the Jacobys. He
also was acquitted, And Inspector Garvin
had to noe anew his fight against the
Purples. he gang had slipped through
his fingers this time, but they couldn't slip
through the night sessions in his office.
Ha they feared’ more than anything
else!”

The mobsters were elated after this

fresh victory over the police, and the gay

ey ich followed lasted for days and

ssried ate
aaa

ost them thousands. But their joy con-
tin nly a few months. On the morn-
ing-4of’ July 27, 1929, the body of Little

Arvy*Shapiro, the one-time star pitcher of

the Hastings, Street baseball team, was
found crumpled on the pavement, where it
had been, OSsed from a a Sa car, not
far fromt*his: former home in the ghetto.
Little Irvy had been taken for a ride! Ri-
val gangsters had dared to challenge the
Purples’ power! pane

This time the police didn’t round up
members of the Purple Gang for question-
ing. It wasn’t necessary; in fact, the Pur-
ples were only too glad to volunteer what
information, they could about Little ‘Irvy’s
last hours. But apparently his pals didn’t
know, or they held back—because the case
still is unsolved, Homicide squad detec-
tives announced that Shapiro had been
slain by out-of gangsters, and there
the case restqdip © er :

The policd theory ‘whs that. Irvy, unbe-
known to h $ fellow Purples, had engaged
in a kidnaping, withy the out-of-towners, to-

‘| pick-up an extra $3,000. The other gang-

sters received the pay-off. When Irvy de-:

manded his share, he got a bullet instead.

Inasmuch as ‘ithas been charged. fre-

quently that Purples figured in many of
the nation’s spectacular gangland killings,
Detroit police are of the opinion that
among the Purples’ distant victims were
the men who took little Irvy for a ride.
If this is true, it never has become public
knowledge, however.

Little Irvy was given a handsome gang-
land funeral—and his poor old father, the
humble Hastings Street tailor, collapsed at
the grave. He told sympathetic reporters
that he frequently had urged Irvy to set-
tle down and help him in the tailoring
business, But the youngster who was make
ing—and spending—thousands, would hear
none of it. Irvy died aged 26. And he was
the first Purple to go,

The year 1929 proved unfortunate for
the Purples, and it became plain to see
that their power was waning. Mabel
Walker Willebrandt, the fiery chief of the
Prohibition Enforcement Bureau in Wash-
ington, sent orders that the Detroit boot-
leggers and rum-runners, and especially the
Purples, be put out of business. She sent
her ace investigator, canny Mike Boland,
to the Michigan city to see that the orders
were carried out.

Boland was successful, in part. He man-
aged to convict Abe Axler, Eddie Fletcher
and Irving Milberg on a liquor law viola-
tion; they were fined $5,000 each, and sen-
tenced to Leavenworth penitentiary for 10
months. They paid, and served their time.
The Purples saw them off at the depot,
and those who remained were rather a sad
lot when the train pulled out.

But despite these set-backs, the Purples
retained many of their rackets, their fat
bank accounts—and their illusions of pow-
er. In their frequent conferences, however,
they frankly discussed their weaknesses,
and they realized that if they were to keep
their B her aypeir and _ security they must
take drastic action. Finally they mapped
out a daring scheme which they believed
would not only settle an old score, but
bring them fresh underworld laurels.

nd_so, on the early morning of Jan-
uary 2, 1930, a big black sedan slipped
quietly alongside of Inspector Henry J.
Garvin’s auto as he was driving toward
Police Headquarters. Suddenly automat-
ics and shotguns began spitting fire from
the open windows of the big sedan. In-
stinctively Garvin dived for the floor of
his car. “His lightninglike movement un-
doubtedly saved his life, but it also pre-
vented him from getting even a glance at
his attempted assassins. After a final blast
the big sedan whirled away.

The hearty police officer was unéonscious
when an ambulance arrived. At Receiving
Hospital, where he was confined for many
weeks, cuey despaired of his life. But
miraculously he recovered.

Little Il-year-old Lois Bartlett, on her
way to school, was in the line of fire on
the sidewalk. She also was badly injured,
but she likewise recovered.

The Purples had muffed their last bid
for power, and in muffing it they had set
loose an aroused public opinion which did
much to bring about their complete down-
fall. The audacity of gangsters who dared
to shoot down a highly respected police
Officer, brought gasps of astonishment
throughout the nation. The Detroit police
now worked in twenty-four hour shifts.
Every Purple, and every known hoodlum

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murder. She had no jealous suitors, had never been threat-
ened, and had no enemies,

The mother, grief-stricken and near collapse, told how

her daughter had left home the day before to attend mass
at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church. From there she went
to her work. It was her habit to return home after work
usually around nine-thirty or ten, but her mother had
called her early in the evening and the daughter told her
that she planned to remain downtown to attend a picture
show. :
Because of this, no alarm had been felt until early the
following morning when it was discovered that she had not
returned home. The mother made a telephone check-up
and was able to learn from a friend of Mildred, Miss Mary
Jane Drew, that Mildred had been seen the night before
standing on a downtown street corner in company with a
young man at about eleven o'clock.

Nussbaum sent the detectives out to find this young man,
and then he got in his car and went to the cemetery where
the body had been found. The lonely road, lined with
ancient trees, was deserted by this time.

The ditch itself was six feet deep, running alongside the
lonely lane. At the bottom was a broken concrete buttress
that formed a part of the drainage duct. Nussbaum jumped

down in the ditch and studied the ground carefully. ‘There ~

were splotches of blood on the concrete buttress that told

him that Mildred Hallmark was not dead when she had been .

hurled down there.
But the ditch revealed no other information. Nussbaum

crawled back to the road and studied the ground carefully,

hoping to find traces of the car that had stood near the ditch.
He found two slight traces but the feet of the crowd had

(Below) A Peoria officer, stands on the running board of the car used
by the fiend on the fatal night.

bap ey eee

DETECTIVE
practically destroyed these,. making it impossible to deter-
mine the type of car or the make of the tires.

‘Twenty minutes later, he drove back to police head-
quarters, his mind groping frantically for seme theory on ;
which he might base a hope of solution; but every element ae

of the case baffled any theory.

When he got back to his office, he found police head-
quarters and the whole town, in the throes of sullen anger,
mixed with a feeling of horror.

The coroner had completed the autopsy and found that
Mildred Hallmark had died from a broken neck—and that
a few minutes before her death she had been criminally
assaulted, =

The criminal assault combined with the broken
neck, indicated that the murderer was a per-
son of abnormal strength, a degen-
erate fiend that lured the girl
to that lonely spot in thee
graveyard, assaulted her
and then broke her

neck
A
of th
tance
and ¢
Ni
him.
take
burst
He
and
the
enter
ey
they

ai tdiatt ate at

and jumped to
d that the old
hrown off the

called to his

the big idea?

efused e pass
alongside the
ered nervously
vhip failed to
McGarvey
ind to find out

the ditch that
s, and what he
d face to turn
stones around
litch, some six
a young girl,
over her head,
covering the

it McGarvey
ne sight. Most
1 spent around
ils and death,
th in its stark
ung -he had

and jumped
ng his horses

Aildred Hallmark,

>eoria's ravishing

BSR at

a ee

Striped hyenas, natives of Southern Asia,

for the main office of the Cemetery Superintendent.
Within twenty minutes the police arrived and with them.

a large crowd, and the peaceful silence of that century old
graveyard was broken by cars roaring down the shrub-lined
lanes and the excited voices of the anxious throng that gath-
ered as if by magic. - .

The gray coat was taken from the body and the dress

pulled down from the head, and the crowd standing over
that ditch stared in silent amazement at the face they saw.

It was that of a pretty young girl. The eyes were open look- .

ing up at the crowd with the glassy stare of death.

people recognized the dead girl-as Mildred Hallmark, the
19 year old daughter of John Hallmark, who lived at 1100.
West Maywood Avenue, within two blocks of the cemetery.

The news of the brutal murder of the nineteen. year old
girl flashed over the community with startling speed, leay-
ing the public stunned with the shock. Mildred Hallmark

was well-known, having graduated a year before at the
Academy of Our Lady, the Catholic Girls? preparatory in-

stitute and for the past three months had been employed. at
the Bishop cafeteria as hostess. :
The community knew of her high moral character;
an intelligent girl, whose pleasing personality and cheerful
manner had made a host of friends, and the news of her
murder came like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
First the news was received in a dazed silence, but when

the shock wore off, the public groped for some explanation.

of the crime. Robbery had not been the motive because the
murdered girl’s pocket-book was found on the road near
the ditch, with the money and contents strewn on. the
ground,

i ‘ 2 Siddha TAO a, Ae aE RY Thy

cowardly animals who prey at night.

Miss Hallmark was not the type to be mixed up in a gang

element. She had no known enemies. The whole thing was

baffling and inexplicable.
Sitting in the office of the Chief of Police of Peoria was

a young.man, barely past thirty. He received the news with
. a grim face. Only the day before, this young man, Fred
- Nussbaum, who had been a motorcycle officer, had been ap-

pointed Chief of Police of Peoria to replace Edward Wom-

" bacher, who had resigned because of poor health.

Appointed to the important business of Chief of Police

one day—and the following day. have a ghastly murder
There was no question of identification. At least twenty —

mystery thrown in his lap was a break that would cause
any man to become grim-faced. Nussbaum knew that there
had been many citizens who had looked askante at the ap-
pointment of a young man to this position—and he knew
that the eye of every person in the county would be focused
on him to see how he would meet a test that would have
caused a veteran to entertain fears of success.

But if Nussbaum was young, he was stubborn and pos-
sessed a courage that had already taken him far; and he
plunged into the case with the speed and efficiency of a vet-
eran, not waiting for the report of the coroner, L. A. Bur-
ham, who was performing an autopsy.

Every available detective was thrown on the case, though
the bulk of the work was done by Detectives Charles Welty
and Glenn Ford, old men on the department, who were
willing to do anything to assist the young Chief of Police.

Nussbaum’s first move was to question the parents of the
young girl. The father, John Hallmark, was an employee
of the Holt Caterpiller Tractor Company, well-known
manufacturer of war tanks during the World War. Hall-
mark could give no reason for the cause of his daughter’s

=...

P aaecmeememenntt A

THO

ip
a

ON, Gerald, white, elec. IL@ (Peoria) October 15. 1935

peas #!

HYENAS
PREY AT NIGHT

Featuring Chief of Police Fred Nussbaum
of the Peoria, Ill., Police Department

By Edwin V. Burkholder

The murder of a beautiful and innocent girl in a

graveyard leads Peoria detectives over a startling
trail until an unholy fiend is apprehended

awn broke in a haze of somber gray
D over Springdale Cemetery, the

century-old burial ground of

Peoria, Illinois. From the graves rose

a heavy mist, as if the dead, weary at
last of their dark pit of blackness,

Suddenly ‘his horses shied and jumped to
the right with, such speed that the old
caretaker was nearly thrown off the
wagon.
“Hey you!” he called to his
horses,” what’s the big idea?
Get-up.”
But the horses refused to pass
a ditch that lay alongside the
road. They nickered nervouSly
and even the whip failed to
move them. So McGarvey
jumped to the ground to find out
the trouble.
He looked down in the ditch that
had frightened the horses, and what he
saw caused his wrinkled old face to turn
as pale as the bleached tombstones around
him. At the bottom of the ditch, some six
feet down, lay the body of a young girl,
legs bare and dressed pulled over her head,
with a ripped grey coat covering the
upper part of the body.
For a long moment McGarvey
stared at the gruesome sight. Most
of his life had been spent around
graves and funerals and death,
but here was death in its stark
brutality, something .he had
never seen before.

were rising to meet the coming sun.
Grotesque and misshapen, the tomb-
stones, many of them crumbling
from age, loomed up in the gray

haze like ghastly apparitions, while

the gaunt trees, with their limbs

stretching out in huge arms, ap-

peared like black ogres of old.

And over it all lay the immuta-
ble silence of death. Death! For
over a hundred years this ground
had been custodian of the grim
reaper; yet on this morning of
June 17th, 1935, a new form of
death was to appear, a form differ-—
ent from any that had gone before,
terrifying and ghastly, shorn of
the trimmings that mankind has
placed on funeral biers.

The sun came up and the mist
rose from the earth and the
bleached tombstones glistened
brightly in the morning light.
William McGarvey, veteran care-

taker of the cemetery, drove his
team and wagon over a road ‘that
led into the lonely and deeply
wooded section of the burial
ground.

And he shuddered and jumped

in his wagon, racing his horses

(Left) The beautiful Mildred Hallmark,
19-year-old victim of Peoria's ravishing

fiend.

for the
Within

a large cr

graveyard
lanes and
ered as if
The g
pulled dc
that ditch
It was th:
ing up at
There
people r
19 year ¢
West M:
The n
girl flash
ing the |
was we]
Academy,
stitute al
the Bish«
The
an intel
manner
murder
First
the shox
of the «
murder:
the ditc

ground.

ible to -deter-

police head-
me theory on
-very element

police head-
sullen anger,

id found that
-ck—and that
‘n criminally

broken

graveyard only a few
short blocks from the
Hallmark girl's home
where her battered body
was found by William
i McGarvey.

neck and hurled her into the ditch where she was found.
A ghastly and terrifying picture it made, and the anger
of the public rose to white heat and there was little reluc-
tance in letting the police know that action was expected—
and expected quickly.
Nussbaum knew this feeling but he did not let it excite

take days and weeks of careful work to solve, and that
bursting out in rage and fury. wouldn’t help any. _

He had barely finished getting the report of the autopsy
and listening to what several self-appointed spokesmen of
the public had to say, when Detectives Welty and Ford
entered the office.

“We’ve located the man last seen with Miss Hallmark,”
they announced. “We brought him to headquarters with

iene ee MORE ee

(Above) Chief of Police Fred Nussbaum on extreme left is
shown shaking hands with: Detective Charles Welty after the case

}

P (vette) X marks”
the spotin the |

him. He knew that he was faced with a mystery that would -

o pees ee are

was broken. Detective Glen Ford is shown in center.

us. Name is John McGinnis. They told us down at the

_, Bishop.Cafeteria that he was with Miss Hallmark last
’ night.”

“Bring him in,” Nussbaum answered.

A young man—not more than nineteen, entered the

_ office. He was obviously surprised at the reception he got,

but his face remained calm and he spoke in a slow, halting
voice.

He said that he worked part-time and that he had been

a former student at Bradley Polytechnic Institute. He ad-

mitted readily that he was with Miss Hallmark the night

before, saying that he had put her on the street car some-

. time around eleven o’clock. He said he did this because he

had to get up early the following morning for work, and
he lived in a part of the city some distance from the Hall-
mark home.

“What about your car?”? Nussbaum shot at him.

McGinnis shook his head wearily.

“T don’t,own a car,” he answered, “I’ve told you the
truth. I can prove by my roommate that I got home around
midnight, which would make it impossible to have been
with Miss Hallmark at the Springdale Cemetery.”

He stuck to his story. under repeated grilling. His room
mate was brought in and confirmed his statement that he
got home around midnight. But Nussbaum did not let him
go. The detectives questioned him but could not break down
his story.

From other detectives, checking up on Miss Hallmark’s
acquaintances came the word that she had been friendly

requesting that the policies be paid at once.

Following Brasfeld to the stand were
witnesses that told how Egan had made a
point of defrauding women who depended
on him for financial advice. It was brought
out how he had defrauded a Mrs, Katie
Weber and how he had been caught and
forced to refund the money.

It was the contention of the state that
to make up this deficiency he planned to
murder his friend, Mrs. Hughes, to collect
the insurance policies. The state contended
that Egan had used the two ex-convicts,

Doran and Tinnin, to commit the murder

so that Egan could establish a perfect alibi.

Then Mrs. G. E, Little was called to
the stand. She was a neighbor of Mrs.
Hughes. She told about seeing the blue
Lincoln in front of the Hughes house on
the afternoon of the murder and in a dra-
matic manner she pointed out Verne Doran
as the man at the wheel.

S far as the alleged attack on Egan

and his subsequent reappearance, the
state was ready to prove that it was all
faked to hide his guilt. Chief of Police
Quinn had worked day and night to prove
this and had unearthed a witness that testi-
fied he saw Egan in company with Doran
an hour after the phone call and showed
no evidence of having been attacked.

AMERICAN DETECTIVE

The jury, listening to this evidence,
promptly brought in an indictment against
Egan; Tinnin and Doran for the murder
of Jessie Scott Hughes.

The trial was set for the second week
in August, but before it took place, all
hope of Egan’s friends for a defense van-
ished. Verne Doran, a week before the
trial, made a complete confession of his
part in the murdering, implicating Egan
as the man who hired him and Tinnin to
go to the home of Mrs. Hughes on the
night of the 29th and kill her.

T was a story ghastly in its brutality.

Doran told how he and Tinnin drove
the Lincoln car in Mrs. Hughes’ garage
and how Tinnin struck the poor woman on
the head, knocking her unconscious. After
that, she was dragged in front of the car
and run over until she was dead.

Later they took her out to Kenwood
Way and dumped her,on the street, hop-
ing that her death would be attributed to
a hit-and-run driver. This testimony at
the trial brought about the conviction of
Egan and Tinnin, who were given life.

The presence of the three hairs in the
drain pipe was explained by Doran by the
tact that Tinnin washed his hands in a
sink after having knocked Mrs. Hughes
out and the hairs being on his hands
washed down the drain pipe.

Speaking about the case after the trial,
Chief of Police Quinn said: “The alleged
attack on Egan while he was talking over
the phone to Captain Dullea didn’t ring
true to me. I had a hunch then that Egan
was ‘behind the murder, but it wasn’t until
the Lincoln car had been located and the
fact confirmed that it was the murder car
that I got my first real lead.

“Tf had the floor of Egan’s garage pho-
tographed with a magnifying camera and
the pictures showed that the car had been
in his garage. After that it was just a ques-
tion of hard work piecing together the mo-
tive for the crime and Egan's part in it.
Another thing that didn’t ring true to me
was Egan’s condition when he was found
in the sanitarium. He was pale and all
that, but his eyes didn’t have the look of a
broken man. They looked too much like a
badly scared man. When we went to get
him to bring him to the inquest, his fake
sickness left pretty quickly.

Bs UT it is possible that the murder of

| Mrs, Hughes would never have been
solved had not Inspector McGinn felt her
hand that night on Kenwood Way and
found it cold. A little thing that was, but
it was the thing that started the machinery
for solving the most ghastly crime in the
history of our city.”

Hyenas Prey at Night

ture would be shown in court. And _ be-
cause of this the sex-crazed fiend had been
able to operate with impunity.

But the most amazing part of the stories
was the fact that none of the girls knew
the name of this man. The victims had been
young girls, eager for adventure and pos-
sessing confidence in their ability to take
care of themselves under any circum-
stances. The meager description Nuss-
baum got of this attacker was so general
that it would easily fit a hundred men in
Peoria.

HE story, however, confirmed Nuss-

baum’'s suspicions that behind the mur-
der of Mildred Hallmark was a hideous sex
crime and a degenerate of abnormal sex
inclinations. The bruise on the side of
Mildred Hallmark’s head showed that she
had been struck a knockout blow before
her neck had been broken, which tallied
with the practice of this man.

But who was he? The check-up of all
men suspected of sex crimes had failed to
disclose his identity, and Nussbaum real-
ized that he was faced with one of the most
difficult of all police jobs—finding an in-
sane killer. The insanity which caused this
type to murder, gives a cunning that has
always baffled police departments.

By this time the news of the stories told
by the women had leaked out, though the
names of the women were closely guarded.
‘The newspapers over the state took "up the
story, playing it up on the front page. The
public sentiment in Peoria had reached a

(Continued from page 17) ,

‘seething point that boded ill for the guilty

person when he was finally arrested.

The hue and cry over the state caused
the state police and officials to step into the
case. State’s Attorney E. V. Champion
arrived at Peoria, accompanied by Eugene
Cavanaugh, investigator for Champion’s
office. Thomas Piper was sent from the
Illinois Crime Detection Bureau at Spring-
field to assist the local police.

But handling the entire investigation,
unruffled and with cold efficiency, was
Nussbaum, faced with the test that was
going to make or break him. Every de-
tective in Peoria worked day and night on
the mystery, trying vainly to locate some
person that might be able to give the po-
lice some inkling to the identity of this
sex killer.

ND two days later this careful and
thorough work produced the first
break in the case. Detective Welty called
Nussbaum on the phone, telling him to be
in his office as a man had. been located that
was willing to give valuable information.

This man was William Wald, a young.

auto mechanic, who had gone to Welty
and volunteered information that he be-
lieved might help the police to trace the
murderer. The story he told resembled in

all details the story told by the women so -

ruthlessly attacked. Wald explained that
a girl relative of his, whose name he re-
fused to disclose, had been taken for an
automobile ride by a strange man on the
night of August 27th, 1934. This .man
took her to the cemetery and attacked her,

striking her across the face and knocking
her unconscious. When she regained her
senses, she was nude and in front of the
headlights of the car and the attacker had
a camera in his hands.

He told her he had taken a picture of
her in a lewd position and that he would
show the picture if she reported his actions
to the police, The girl, however, had pres-
ence of mind enough to note the license
number of the car.

She did not, because of fear or shame,
report the attack to the police, but she did
tell Wald what had happened, making him
promise that he would take no public action
because of the picture. Wald didn’t go to
the police, but he did decide to do some in-
vestigating himself.

He traced the license number and found

‘that it had been issued to a Gerald Thomp-

son. Wald and a. friend went to call on
Thompson but were unable to find him in.
They spent many nights waiting outside
his home, but a week later they learned
that Thompson had moved.

O Wald had to drop the matter, being
unable to locate his man, but a few
months later something happened that
caused him to doubt Thompson was the
man he wanted. He and his cousin attended
a dance, and as they were leaving, the girl
grabbed his arm and cried: ‘‘Look, Bill,
that man getting in that car. I believe that
is the man that attacked me.”
In front of the dance hall, Wald saw a
young man getting into an automobile. He
made a leap for him, but the man was too

ee ae

quick and t!
out of sight
license num!»

And this

to a differe:
attacker, an
girl had ide

Wald to disn
Wald searct

found him «

of Mildred !
duty to tell '

spite his pri
close it.
Nussbaur

and by the «

that the sec

Wald in fro
guilty one

borrowed

‘J
bers caused |

saulted the :

Pipe |
Detecti
his back eri
little doubt
other man \
‘Thompson
maker at
Company, '
of Mildred
He live:
and Mrs. (s
sole support
cally all his
duStrious ar
night off, ac
He kept
respectable
life indicate
the man
women for?
So the |
locate the
Wald at tt
brought t
battery of de
The girl:
tacker was |
said he ‘‘lo
presence she
Questions
sides. Wheré
Hallmark «
car? Where
of taking of
the girl he w
These an
nurled at hir
oped points
of the murd:
taken in ano:
tinued, the |
they had th
eventually
After t
an hour, Ni
taking Det
him. It was
a suburb of
detectives ir
he went on .
Arn hour
them: "We
ing, and It
murderer 0!
fast talking
The sear

Pilgrim, who

- but now had
Illinois.
get him, but
arm where he
Peoria Police
uestioned for
t on the crime.
is whereabouts
saying that he
ton and could
t.
checked and
lgrim was per-
tioning of him
greater part of
me, Nussbaum
little progress
is was still held

‘ed no signs of

ore the night is
1 to Nussbaum,
-y and I believe

5 story strong,”

at the body of
n added, “and
‘ant you to go
d get the names
ected of crimes
e years.”
morgue where
ib, covered by a
on of the body
t in that time he
a bruise on the
ondition. of her
each hand and
. After that he
ked out of the

iing one of the
ough investiga-
police of Peoria
and in that time
inity, who had
a crime against
ch a crime, had
rters and ques-
the night Miss

, but every point
d and rechecked
s overlooked, but

ne of the many men
ange case is shown
ers. (Left, bottom)
the slain girl.

or a Ee

(Right, top) Patrolmen George Vogelsand (left)
and Leslie Betchtel who arrested Thompson at his

place of employment. (Right, bottom) Ben Thur-

man, Gerald Thompson's lawyer.

when all these men had been questioned and
their stories investigated, Nussbaum was ex-
actly at the point where he started in the
mystery. Not one of them offered any pos-
sibility as the murderer.

“All right,” Nussbaum. said , wearily,
when this questioning was over, ““We’ve
checked every man either guilty or suspected »
of being guilty of a sex crime and we didn’t
find the man we are looking for. Now we
are going to question the persons who know
if some sex fiend has been working this

~ community. We are going to bring in every

woman who is willing to talk—and promise

her that her name or story will never be:

revealed.”

This request for all women who had
been subjected to such attacks to report. to |
Nussbaum on the pledge that their names. _

would never be revealed brought a response
that caused Nussbaum to gasp in amaze-_

ment, and the stories they told caused him —

to wonder whether he had been living in a
civilized community of law and order.
With a remarkable courage, the women
came to him and talked, swallowing their
shame and humiliation that they. might be
of some aid in apprehending the murderer
of Mildred Hallmark. In all the annals of

crime there are few examples of greater

courage than the actions of those Peoria
women who bared their ghastly secret for
the sole reason of aiding justice.

‘ The story Nussbaum heard from them

was heinous and terrifying. For several
months a strange man, driving a small car,
had been luring girls in his automobile and
assaulting them. His practice in all cases
was the same. Once the girl was in his car,
he would drive to some isolated spot. If the
girl resisted his advances, he would strike

scious. Then he would ravish her.
When she would regain consciousness,
he would have her clothes torn from her

_back, and the terrified girl dragged out in

front of the headlights of the car where he

would take a picture in the nude. He would —

threaten to make the picture public if she
reported the attack to the police, proving
by photograph that the girl had willingly
complied with his advances.

Terror and shame and humiliation had
caused the girls to keep their experience a
secret, fearing if they reported it, the pic-

(Continued on page 94)

HYENAS PREY AT NIGHT

Lhe it het Meche inde na a

the trial,
ie alleged
king over
In’t ring
vat Egan
isn’t until
{ and the
urder car

rage pho-
-mera and
had been
ist a ques-
er the mo-
part in it.
true to me
vas found
le and all
¢ look of a
vuch like a
ent to get

his fake

nurder of
have been
n felt her
Way and
it was, but
machinery
me in the

{ knocking
vained her
nt of the
tacker had

picture of
t he would
his actions
had pres-
the license

> or shame,
but she did
naking him
iblic action
idn't go to
{o some in-

and found
ld Thomp-
to call on
nd him in,
ng outside
ey learned

er, being
ut a few
ened that
was the
) attended
. the girl
Bill,
elieve that

\
OOK,

Vald saw a
nobile. He
was too

quick and the car roared down the street,
out of sight, but as it did, Wald got the
license number:

And this number, when traced, pointed
to a different man than Thompson as the
attacker, and in view of the fact that the
girl had identified this second man caused
Wald to dismiss Thompson as the attacker.
Wald searched for this second man but
found him elusive. Then came the murder
of Mildred Hallmark and Wald felt it his
duty to tell the police the information, de-
spite his promise to his cousin not to dis-
close it.

Nussbaum acted on this lead at once,
and by the end of the day was convinced
that the second man, the one that escaped
Wald in front of the dance hall, was the
guilty one. The discrepancy in license num-
bers caused him to believe that the attacker
borrowed Thompson’s car when he as-
saulted the relative of Wald.

¢* RALD THOMPSON was located by

Detectives Welty and Ford and when
his background was checked, there was
little doubt in their minds but that the
other man was the one the police wanted.
Thompson worked at night as a_ tool
maker at the Holt Caterpiller Tractor
Company, the same place where the father
of Mildred Hallmark worked.

He lived with his grandparents, Mr.
and Mrs. George Thompson, and was their
sole support, turning’ over to them practi-
cally all his wages every week. He was in-
dustrious and quiet, going out little on his
night off, according to his grandparents.

He kept company with a girl of a highly
respectable family, and nothing about his
life indicated that he could possibly be
the man that had so brutally attacked
women for the past year.

So the police doubled their efforts to
locate the man that had escaped from
Wald at the dance. He was found and
brought to police headquarters, where a
battery of detectives waited to grill him.

The girl that pointed him out as her at-
tacker was brought in to identify him. She
said he “looked like the man,’’ but in his
presence she became nervous and ill at ease.

Questions were fired at him from all
sides. Where was he on the night Mildred
Hallmark was murdered? Where was his
car? Where was the picture he was accused
of taking of the girl relative of Wald—
the girl he was accused of assaulting ?

These and fifty other questions were
nurled at him, and his answers soon devel-
oped points about his actions on the night
of the murder that didn’t ring true. He was
taken in another room and the grilling con-
tinued, the police were now confident that
they had the murderer, and that he would
eventually confess.

After the questioning had gone on for
an hour, Nussbaum suddenly left the room,
taking Detectives Welty and Ford with
him. It was evening when they arrived at
a suburb of Peoria. Nussbaum left the two
detectives in front of a modest house while
he went on a secret errand.

An hour later he returned and said to
them: “We're going to do a little search-
ing, and I think this search will make the
murderer of Mildred Hallmark do some
fast talking.”

The search was conducted quietly, with-

ca eee

AMERICAN DETECTIVE

out anyone in the neighborhood knowing
what was happening. Nussbaum knew he
was fighting two elements: One was the
murderer of Mildred Hallmark, whom
Nussbaum was now convinced he knew,
and the other was public anger that was at
the point where violence would be done the
murderer on the first inkling of his iden-
tity.

NDER the cover of darkness Nuss-

- baum and the two detectives went to
the front door of a dwelling at the end of
the block. A woman came to the door,
looked at the police with fear-stricken eyes
but let them in without a word.

Once inside the house; Nussbaum
worked rapidly, going to a room on the
second floor, and when he and Welty and
Ford left that room, it had been turned
upside down and Nussbaum had a large
envelope and book in his pocket.

He rushed back to headquarters where
the police were still working on the man
accused as the attacker of the girl relative
of William Wald. Stubbornly and help-
lessly he was trying to answer the ques-
tions shot at him, but every attempt
brought him more trouble.

Nussbaum motioned the detectives away
from him and then had him taken to an-
other room, under guard. Acting on or-
ders from Nussbaum, Detectives Welty
and Ford left headquarters in a police car.

“I’m going to ‘bring a man here that
can crack this case for us,’’ Nussbaum an-
nounced to the state police and the local
detectives. ‘‘And when I’m through with
him the murderer won't have any choice
but to talk.”’

Half an hour later Detectives Welty and
Ford returned to headquarters bringing a
tall, thin-faced young man. They took him
to Nussbaum’s office where Champion, the
state’s attorney, Cavanaugh, his special in-
vestigator, Piper, of the State Detection
Bureau at Springfield, and a police stenog-
rapher sat in chairs along the wall.

“Hello, Thompson,’’ Nussbaum said to
the young man that entered with Welty
and Ford, ‘‘We brought you here to give
us some information about the murderer of
Mildred Hallmark.”’

Gerald Thompson smiled his greetings
and sat down, saying: ‘I’m only too glad
to do anything I can to help.”

Nussbaum’s attitude had suddenly
changed. His face tightened and his eyes
narrowed as he looked at Thompson.

“The first thing, Thompson,’’ Nuss-
baum shot at him, ‘‘you can explain are
those scratches on your face.’”

Thompson looked at Nussbaum in
amazement and answered: “I don’t... .”

‘ “T said explain those scratches on your
face ?”? Nussbaum cut in coldly.

“These scratches—why—why.

“They were put there by Mildred Hall-
mark when you attacked and killed her,”
Nussbaum said. ‘The fingers of the dead
girl showed she had scratched her attacker,
I went over to the morgue the day after
she was murdered to make sure of that,
and ever since then I’ve ‘been looking for a
suspect with marks of scratches on his
face,”’ s

Gerald Thompson turned pale and wet
his lips but said nothing.

“We got another chap here that we sus-

”

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with a young man, Vincent Pilgrim, who
had worked in a Chicago store but now had
a job on a farm near Paxton, Illinois.

- Detectives were sent to get him, but
before they arrived at the farm where he
worked, he walked into the Peoria Police
Headquarters. He was questioned for
hours, but could shed no light on the crime.
He established an alibi for his whereabouts
on the night of the murder, saying that he
was on the-farm near Paxton and could
produce five people to prove it.

This truthful alibi was checked and
found to be iron clad and Pilgrim was per-
mitted to go home. The questioning of him
and McGinnis had taken the greater part of
the day, and when night came, Nussbaum
realized that he had made little progress
towards a solution. McGinnis was still held
for questioning but he showed no signs of
changing his story.

“McGinnis may talk before the night is
over,” Detective Welty said to Nussbaum,
“but the boy sticks to his story and I believe
he’s telling the truth.”

“His roommate makes his story strong,”

Detective Ford added.

“Pm going to take a look at the body of
Miss Hallmark,” Nussbaum added, “and
while I’m doing that, I want you to go
over to the police records and get the names
of every man arrested or suspected of crimes
against women in the last five years.”

Nussbaum went to the morgue where
Miss Hallmark lay on a slab, covered by a
white sheet. His examination of the body
took only a few minutes, but in that time he
had made a close study of a bruise on the
side of her head and the condition. of her
arms. Then ‘he picked up each hand and
studied the fingers closely. After that he

covered the -body and walked out. of the

morgue.
On the following morning one of the
most painstaking and thorough investiga-

- tions ever conducted by the police of Peoria

started. It lasted four days and in that time
every man in the community, who had
either been arrested for a crime against
women or suspected of such a crime, had
been brought to headquarters and ques-
‘tioned. about his actions on the night Miss
Hallmark was murdered.

Each established an alibi, but every point
of their stories was checked and rechecked
by detectives. No detail was overlooked, but

(Left, top) Gerald Thompson, one of the many men

questioned by police in this strange case is shown

handcuffed between Peoria officers. (Left, bottom)
John Hallmark, father of the slain girl,

(Right, top) Pat
and Leslie Betcht
place of employ:

man, Ge

when all thes«
their stories in’
actly at the p
mystery. Not
sibility as the 1
“All right,
when this qui
checked every
of being guilty
find the man
are going to q
if some sex
community. V
woman who Is
her that her
revealed.”
‘This requ:
been subject
Nussbaum or
would never
that caused
ment, and th
to wonder w
civilized com
With a re
came to him
shame and h
of some aid
of Mildred !
crime there
courage tha:
women who
the sole reas:
‘The story
was heinous
months a str
had been lur
assaulting t!
was the sam
he would dr
girl resisted
her across t
scious. The:
When s!
he would h
_back, and t!
front of the
would take
threaten to
reported th
by photogr:
complied w
Terror :
caused the
secret, fear
{ (

=
o
Ve

18 True Detective Mysteries

graduated with honor from parochial school and from the

a vise, she had been struck viciously on the jaw and her neck
had snapped.

The purse yielded a few small coins, keys and the usual
cosmetics and, most important to us, an identification card
in the name of Mildred Hallmark, 1100 East Maywood Ave-
nue; a library card issued to Ruby Hallmark, Alliance Life
Insurance Company, and a time payment book bearing the
name of Mrs. John Hallmark.

Chief Nussbaum began snapping orders. “Gumm, I'd like
scrapings from under her finger-nails. She might have
scratched her killer and his skin might give us a clue. That
purse there—I’ll take it along and have it goné over for
finger-prints. Doebler, you and Golden look up this Ruby
Hallmark. Welty, you and Whittaker get out to this May-
wood Avenue address and see what you can find out.
Esken .. .”

Y/ BITEAR ES and I did not wait to hear more. We got
in our car and went to Maywood Avenue, not more
than half a mile from where we then were. It was a neat
little brick cottage, hedged about by shrubbery; just what
you might expect the home of a middle class family in com-
fortable circumstances to be.

The door was opened to us by a tall, middle-aged man
whose eyes bored sharply into ours as we identified our-
selves.

“Come in,” he said. Then, suddenly, “Is it about Mil-
dred?” :

“Dm afraid it is,” I told him. “A girl who had that name
on an identification card in her purse has been hurt—by an,

automobile, perhaps . . .”
“She’s my daughter. She didn’t come home last. night,”
he said. “It has had us worried. We couldn’t sleep . . . tele-

‘phoned her friends . . . the place where she works . . .”

He broke off as a plump woman of near his own age ap-
peared. “My wife,” he said, then repeated to her what we
had told him.

The mother was not to be deceived, however. We were’
trying to keep the truth away from them for a bit, break it
to them by degrees, not only to soften the shock, but to get
as much information as we could before we told them all.
She would not have it so.

“Tell me the truth—now,” she begged. “I know it wasn’t
an automobile. Mildred isn’t hurt. She’s dead. I know it.
I feel it. Tell me.”

We told her then, withholding the most shocking details,
and she collapsed. .

Eventually it was from her husband that we obtained the
facts we had to know; from him and from the neighbors
who presently began to put in an appear-
ance, drawn to the house by our car and
another police car which a bit later
brought Ruby Hallmark home from her
place of employment. Detectives Doebler
and Golden had broken the news of her
sister’s death to her.

The father, we learned, was John Hall-
mark, skilled toolmaker employed by a
caterpillar tractor plant in East Peoria.
Mildred, his eldest, was nineteen and had

(Left) A Peoria policeman examines the
torn and scissored white dress and other
garments worn by the victim. William
McGarvey (right), cemetery teamster,
discovered the body, notified police

Academy of Our Lady. She was quiet, home-loving, nevér
stayed out late or went to a movie or to the home of a friend
without first telephoning her family from Bishop’s Cafeteria

downtown where for several months she had been employed -

as a hostess.

“Last night,” John Hallmark said, “she worked as usual.
None of us was home about the time she usually quit—we
had gone calling—so whatever she planned to do she had
no opportunity to tell us. We came home, but we didn’t
worry until about two o’clock when her mother got up and
found she was not home.” 2 ee

We broached the matter of love affairs. Mildred, he said,
cared little for boys as a rule. A year back, however, she
had begun keeping company with Vincent Pilgrim, a farm
boy from near-by Paxton, Illinois. Sone

ys Bishop's Cofeteria it was said that Mildred Hallmark

had worked the previous night until 8:30 o'clock, then had
departed with John McGinnis, a Bradley College student who
was working as a bus boy during vacation. Someone recalled
that they had spoken of seeing a moving picture together.

McGinnis had reported for duty as usual that morning,
but had grown excited when told that Mildred had been
murdered.

“At first he took it as teasing because he had been with
her,” said a woman employee. “When he became convinced
it was the truth, he said that he was going to see a lawyer

because he was afraid he might become involved. Then he.

left in a hurry.”

The youth was not to go unquestioned for long, however.

An investigator for State’s Attorney E. V. Champion, took
him into custody on the street and presently he was turned

over to the police. He was badly frightened when I first laid’

eyes on him in the office of Chief Nussbaum and he told his
story haltingly, but with every evidence of truth. .

“After I got through work last night,” he said, “I hung
around the cafeteria for a while on the chance that my
roommate, Clayton McDaniel, would come by and we could
take in a show, as we often did. He didn’t appear, however.
Mildred Hallmark got through her work about half-past
eight and I asked her if she would go to a show with me. I
never had dated her before. She didn’t seem to care to go

any place except with a crowd, but she always had acted 80:

friendly I got up my nerve and asked her.” ae

Se lene

The ¢
made s«
then re
friends

“She
went o1.
she kne
walked
got out
she coul
couple

They
ing, he
another
Knoxvil
left it, |
McGin:
a long :

“T let
her on:
my roo:
undress
state re!

A lik:
connect
lay mos!
at whic!
route w!

and, ab
that she
in some
: That t
stances i
that alre
up of pr
find the
cases suc
curred ri
Hallmar)
“Bring
who mig!
Nussbau:
and set
this kill

(Be!
Fore
fath:

school and from the
: home-loving, never
the home of a friend
m Bishop’s Cafeteria
e had been employed

she worked as usual.
she usually quit—we
‘nned to do she had
home, but we didn’t
-¢ mother got up ani

irs. Mildred, he said,
-r back, however, she
cent Pilgrim, a farm

cat Mildred Hollmark <

3-30 o’clock, then had.
ey College student who
tion. Someone recalle
ving picture together.
3 usual that morning,
vat Mildred had been

wuse he had been with
1 he became convince:
going to see & lawyer
me involved. Then he

didn’t appear, however.

work about half-past
5 to a show with me.
In’t seem to care to go
che always had acted 80:
od her.”

They reached

route which she
and, above all,

-[; up of persons 0

cases successful,

who might have

The girl, he added,
made several attempts to reach her
then recalled that the rest ‘of the family had gone to visit

went on, “but only if sh
she. knew I didn’t have muc
walked to the Rialto theater an
got out about ele
she could catch a
couple of blocks from home.”

find the perpetrators of numerous

(Below, left to right) Detective
Ford, Superintendent of Police Fr
father. (Right) Vincent Pilgrim,

Who Killed the
did not accept right away. First, she

friends for the evening.
“She said then that s
e could pay her own way. I guess
h money. I agreed and we
d saw ‘Public Enemy.’ We
ven o’clock and I walked with her to where
Country Club car which would take her a

McGinnis accompanying her because

a Jong ride back j

“J Jet her have her way,

her on a Knoxville Avenue car, then

he didn’t wake up when I

undressed and went to bed. He was gone to his work at the
i I got up this morning.

cn pe cee rete asctmen aa”

home on the telephone,

he would go with me,” McGinnis

ing, he said, and rather than wait ten or fifteen minutes for
another, Mildred decided to walk another block and take a
Knoxville Avenue car. Tt meant a walk of four blocks when she _

went home. McDaniel,

; at which Mildred was last known to have been alive, the

expected to take after leaving the street car
jt supported the most reasonable theory—

f known moronic tendencies in an effort to

that she had been the victim of a moron who had seized her

attacks upon women. One attack had oc-

curred right at the gates of the very cemetery where Mildred

Hallmark’s body had been found.

“Bring in every, man who by any chance is of the type

killed this girl for resisting him,” said Ch

Charles H. Wel

Nussbaum. “Go after every stool-pigeon in the underworld
and set all of them to work on this case. If we don’t get

this kille——”’

ty, co-author;

ed Nussbaum
Mildred Hallmark’s farmer

and John Hallmark,

Girl in the White aa i

He didn’t have to say outright what he meant. Every
man on the force knew. A change in the city administration
had put the department on the spot as it was. The news-
papers were critical of some of our efforts. It was quite logi-
cal to expect that if we failed to solve the Hallmark murder
there were going to be quite a few vacancies in our ranks.
Seeking the slayer among the morons and degenerates of the
city seemed our best bet. It looked like that kind of a case.

Those four blocks which Mildred Hallmark would have

vacant lots into which a lone woman might have been
dragged without much risk of her screams and struggles be-
ing heard. Chief Nussbaum sent men to comb both the

15 ber ap men were assigned to rounding up the motormen
and conductors on night duty on the Knoxville Avenue
line. It wasn’t likely that a young, attractive girl riding alone

by knitting a bit on the sweater found beside her body later
—had gone unnoticed. Perhaps the slayer even had been a
passenger on the same car and had left it when she did. In
that case, one of the crew might have noticed him and be
able to give 4 description.

Convinced as he was that the moron theory was right,
Chief Nussbaum was not overlooking the possibility that it
might not have been a moron at all. There have been many
instances in the past where an unsuccessful suitor for a girl's
favors has attempted to take them by force and resorted to
murder to seal her lips afterward. So men were sent to inter-

‘view Mildred Hallmark’s close girl friends, those in whom she

would have been most likely to confide, in an effort to obtain
the names of men who might have tried unsuccessfully to
win her affections.

For the same purpose—and because sometimes love-grown-
cold lies back of murder—a request was made of the sheriff
at Paxton that he take into custody for questioning the
young farmer boy, Vincent Pilgrim, whom Mildred. had con-
fided to her family she expected to marry.

Pilgrim was about to board a bus for Peoria when the

Detective Glenn 4 ity
bereaved ‘ 4
boy sweetheart

Ke.
of ]
of

sati
a-n
An
rew
the
Du
abo
Stri
con
hav
new
com

Ca
for

Kee,
blue
tains

the |

Te oT Rr
eeatuaras } ‘ 8

20 . True Detective Mysteries

sheriff appeared. The youth was in a sad state. An hour
before, his cousin, Jane Drew of Peoria, had telegraphed
him: “Mildred is dead. Come at once.” Just that, nothing
more; and his efforts to reach Miss Drew by telephone had
been futile. Pilgrim had no idea what had happened to his
sweetheart, he said. He begged the sheriff for details which

were withheld until two Peoria officers arrived to take charge,

of him. Only then did Pilgrim learn the truth and he
almost collapsed.
Brought to Headquarters in Peoria, he produced letters

and a notebook in which the slain girl had written, “I love |

you truly. Mil. February 22nd, 1935.” The letters breathed
devotion to him and told him that she was not “dating” any-
one else, but was true to him.

“T felt the same way about her,” Pilgrim said.

He declared that he was unable to give any information
which might help the investigation.

“I can’t think of one person who might want to harm
Mildred,” he insisted. ,

NEVERTHELESS, he did bring in the name of a man

whom I shall call Alan Lancaster, who, it was obvious,
Pilgrim was inclined to believe was persistent in paying at-
tentions to Mildred. I am withholding this man’s real name
out of consideration for him.

“She told me that she wouldn’t have anything to do with
him because he had bad habits,” the youth said, adding that
he did not know to what habits the girl referred.

“I don’t know anything about this fellow except what
Mildred told me,” he said. “All she ever said was that Lan-
caster made several attempts to date her, but that she didn’t
like him and always turned him down.”

Lancaster was brought in soon afterwards. He said the
same thing. He had not taken the girl’s refusals to heart.
He had gone out with other girls. As a matter of fact, he
had taken a young woman to Peru the previous night, had
brought her home after midnight and started for his own
home when his car broke down. He had called a friend to
help him fix it and it was about three a.m. when they were
able to get started.

Since it was easy enough to check both his story and that
of Pilgrim’s whereabouts—he had not been out of his home
town of Paxton in two weeks—we were just about where we
had started on the investigation. I might as well state right
here that Lancaster was innocent of any connection with the
death of Mildred Hallmark.

Late that day Chief Nussbaum called into his office all his
men who had been working on the case. Those present in-
cluded my partner, Glenn Ford. Hearing of the murder, he

had come rushing downtown to join me, cheerfully giving up‘

the rest of his day off to get back into harness.

Not one bit of good news did Chief Nussbaum have. The
men who had covered those four blocks between the Knox-
ville Avenue car-line and the Hallmark home had found
nothing. None of the residents of the houses along those
blocks had seen or heard anything.

The officers who had interviewed motormen and conduc-
tors on the Knoxville Avenue line likewise had returned
empty-handed. No one recalled seeing a girl of Mildred’s
description among the passengers the previous night and it
seemed particularly significant that none of the carmen re-
called a stop at Knoxville and California Avenues, the corner
where the girl would have left the car if she had carried out
the plan she had mentioned to young McGinnis,

Chief Nussbaum seized upon that point at once. It opened
up several possibilities—that she had left the Knoxville car
after a change of mind on the route she would take home, or
that she had met someone on the car who had persuaded her
to get off, to mention two.

The importance of learning just what Mildred had done
after leaving McGinnis was apparent, and so far we had
nothing to show that she had even boarded a Knoxville car,
as the youth said. His story up to that point checked all
right, for he had named some people to whom Mildred had
spoken after leaving the show and those people had cor-
roborated him.

There was no proof, however, that he had put her on the
car, then walked to his near-by rooming house and retired
around 11:30. Clayton McDaniel, his roommate, had told
an officer that he did not know when McGinnis came home.
He was asleep and did not hear him, but McGinnis had been

in bed when McDaniel left for his work next morning.

We had no reason to disbelieve the youth, but he was the
last person known to have seen Mildred and until we could
‘place her as having been seen at some spot, alone and safe,
after the hour at which McGinnis said they had parted, we
could not start in to trace her movements beyond the corner
where he said she had boarded the car. '

“Our best bet along that line is to start asking questions ‘
all along the route of the Knoxville car-line,” Chief Nuss-
baum said. He pointed out that in any city at any given
hour certain persons will be found at the same place night
after night. One of them might have seen Mildred Hallmark, |
might remember something that would give us a clue to her |
movements. To the uniformed men on the beat who might |
be expected to know the people they saw night after night, 3

together with several plain-
clothes men, he assigned this
task. It was a huge job, to
be sure, but there was an-
other which confronted the
department.

Nussbaum’s order to round
up every individual registered
on the books as a moron, a
pervert, an annoyer of women
and the like had brought more
than a few into the toils, to
be questioned and checked up. a ‘

Imost without exception they. were released within a few &
hours because there was nothing upon which to hold them.

Publication of the fact that this was being done had
started an avalanche of “tips” rolling into Headquarters.
They poured in by telephone, by mail, by word of mouth
to. some friend on the force. It is the usual thing in ‘un-
solved crimes. Most of these tips are worthless, but it is
amazing how often one of them is the very thing that you
need to arrive at a solution. 1

As a result, in his usual thorough-going way, Chief Nuss-.
baum ordered that each of these tips be investigated. All
the rest of my life I shall carry in my memory—and, I sus-!
pect, so will all my fellow officers—the recollection of days
and nights of following up those tips; of investigating men
who were seen cleaning cars on the morning after the mur-
der (not unusual on Monday after a long Sunday trip); of
fishing out of the river mysterious bundles which might hold
the blood-stained clothes of a slayer but usually proved to
contain garbage; of questioning youths and older men who
had tried to pick up a girl on the street or who had per-
formed some mysterious act which, not being explained, had

? Bi

caused 1
Most 1
men whc
to them
assaults.
ported to
and ofte:
until now
had unlo:
Not all
their iden
Not all w:
while des:
that came
One ma
There w
man’s me:
time by of
her home |
an airing
had come
an attemyp

which tied th:
certain favori:
overcome rexi-
back to comp
was reserved |
threats to har

These obdur
to the ground
camera and te
that were inst:

“Report wh:
any effort to |
you without 3:
he would thre:

The experie:

Fitts ee ea -

3 ci: aa | Who Killed the Girl in the White Dress? 21

es { to direct suspicion at them. appeared to incorporate every detail of this man’s methods
work next morning. | Most importance was attached, of course, to reports of that it seemed one person, terrorized as she must have been,
vouth, but he was the .—% men who had picked up women in cars, had made advances could remember. Obviously, too late, she realized that the
vd and until we could “%§ to them and, denied what they asked for, had made brutal young man who had spoken so nicely and who had seemed
, spot, alone and safe, [% assaults. We were amazed at the number of such cases re- so gentlemanly when he stopped his car and persuaded her
| they had parted, we fF ported to us for the first time. Shame and a dread of gossip, _to let him drive her home from a transfer corner where she

‘nts beyond the corner and often threats of reprisals, had kept the victims silent was growing impatient as she awaited a street car, was in-
a‘ 4 suntil now. The shocking fate of Mildred Hallmark, however, tending her no good. Keeping her wits, she had decided to

start asking questions —f had unlocked their lips. throw open the door on her side of the car and jump out

car-line,” Chief Nuss- Not all who offered information had the courage to reveal at the first opportunity. When, however, she quietly reached

any city at any given + their;identities, however much they may have wished to help. for the door handle as they approached a lighted corner she
- the same place night § Not all were able to name their assailants or give any worth- made a startling discovery. There was no handle on the in-
een Mildred Hallmark, <f§ while description of them, but out of all the mass of details side of her door! The only way she could get out was for.
d give us a clue to her ©. :
sn the beat who might
saw night after night,

that came into our hands a significant thing became evident. the door to be opened from the outside!
One man was guilty of several of these attacks! -Her attempt to escape had not gone unnoticed.
There was no escaping that conclusion. In every case the * “You can’t get out unless I let you,” said the man and
man’s methods had been the same. He had started each ~his voice, which before had been persuasive, cajoling, had °
time by offering an automobile ride to a woman or a girl, to turned harsh. “I took the handle off and I’ve got the knob
her home or any other destination she mentioned or just for on the shift lever here riveted on. A girl yanked it off_once,
an airing if she was bound no place in particular. Then tried to bean me and T’m taking no more chances. You'll
had come a swift ride to some out-of-the-way spot, a stop, do as I say from now on, or else——”’
an attempt at love-making, and when his proposals were He had his way in the end, after she had crashed an .
spurned, violence followed by _ elbow through the glass of the door and scratched and struck
words of remorse and apology him and been rendered unconscious from a blow to the jaw.
or threats of dire harm in the Then, because he realized that she was far from being ter-
J future, according to the vie- rorized by him, he had ripped her clothes off with the aid
- . é aa tim’s reactions to what had” of a pair of shears, thrown her to the road in front of his
i happened. ; car and told her he had taken her picture.
It was not from this, how- All of us, from Chief Nussbaum on down, pondered long
ever, that. we drew the con- and hard upon that letter. The writer’s experience dovetailed
clusion that the same man with what we believed had befallen Mildred Hallmark, except
was responsible for several as- that the blow on the jaw, according to the medical examiner,
saults. Those things almost Dr. E. C. Burhans, had broken Mildred’s neck.
always happen in such cases. What good did it do us, however, so long as we could not
It was the unusual things lay our hands on the man? The girl had to the best of her
ability given us a description of the attacker. She said he
was about twenty-five, of average height, slender to the point
of ranginess, dark complexion, a soft speaker until aroused,
when he became harsh-toned and profane—but it fitted hun-
dreds of young men. If only we could get hold of this girl,
talk to her, ply her with questions, perhaps we could obtain
details, trivial in. her eyes, which would be a godsend to us.

Chief Nussbaum was equal to the occasion. He announced
in the newspapers and over the radio station in our city
that the police had received valuable information in anony-
mous letters from women who had been victimized by a
young man believed to be Mildred’s slayer. He urged them
to get in touch with the police and he gave a pledge, in
which the newspapers joined, that their identities would not
be revealed. ‘

~ ay

iM SAnwal 3, the men who had taken on the task of
asking questions along:the route of the Knoxville car-
line had not been idle. They had brought back information
which abruptly shifted the center of interest in the attempt
to trace Mildred’s movements from Knoxville and California
Avenues to Knoxville and Pennsylvania Avenues, a good
mile and a half this side of California Avenue. It was a
transfer corner, too, the one where the Peoria Heights car-
: line diverged from Knoxville Avenue, and went off in the
as “4 direction of the Hallmark home.
were released within & few Two brothers—Charles and Francis Tetmeyer, residing at
; upon which to hold ee Bese ; %y at 712 East McClure Avenue—had expressed the belief they
this was being done had ° se 2 i had seen the slain girl on the Knoxville car upon which,
rolling into Head baie a shortly after eleven p.m. Sunday, they had ridden home
yy mail, by word of mouth 9° from downtown.
v is the usual thing in UN- 9° which tied the assaults together as the work of one man— They had looked at her with only casual interest because
ips are worthless, but it 18H certain favorite expressions, a gesture, a blow to the jaw to she had sat well forward in the car and they had paid little
, js the very thing that YOU Bs overcome resistance, & twisting of an arm behind the victim’s attention when she left her seat and quit the car. They
“back to compel obedience and particularly a climax which couldn’t recall just where that was, but she had not been a
: : ; d _ was reserved for those who were not properly terrorized by passenger when they got off at McClure Avenue, which is
ese tips be investigated threats to harm them afterwards. beyond Pennsylvania Avenue but well this side of California
"in my memory—and, f taval These obdurate ones he disrobed entirely and, hurling them Avenue. They described clothing similar to that Mildred
ers—the recollection of dayS 9. to the ground in front of his car headlights, he produced a had worn.

ough-going way, Chief Nuss-

se tips; of inverse ea camera and told them he was taking their pictures on films The Pennsylvania-Knoxville’ corner was more closely fixed
a the morning 4 Sa the mur” that were instantaneous in any kind of light! as the place where Mildred had quit the car by the story of
ifter a long Sun ag! trip) ry ~ “Report what has happened tonight to the police, make J ohn Manias, residing in an apartment house at that corner.
ous bundles ing mig arr _-any effort to have me punished and Tl scatter pictures of A little after eleven P. m.—he estimated the time because he
slayer but usually prov’ ho® you without any clothes all over your home neighborhood,” had been asleep—he felt the need of more air in his bedroom
g youths and older Sail ‘WhO F je would threaten. and arose to open another window.

a the street, or who ha ad ‘ The experience of one girl, related in an unsigned letter, Across the street, where a person waiting for «a Peoria

hich, not being explained,

Metadata

Containers:: Box 15 (2-Documentation of Executions), Folder 4
Resource Type:: Document
Description:: Rufo Swain executed on 1937-02-26 in Illinois (IL)
Rights:: In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted
Date Uploaded:: June 30, 2019

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