New York, E, 1876-1975, Undated

loser, and any time anything happens,
they always come after me.”

Eckwerth said that he went first to New
York and then took a bus to Chicago.
There he met a schoolteacher from Min-
nesota who was on her way to the Na-
tional Education Association convention
in Portland.

Having an affinity for schoolteachers,
Eckwe: tried out the line he had pol-
ished as the Coffee Don Juan on the West-
chester circuit. According to him, it
worked. He and the teacher, he said,
traipsed across country, registering as man,
and wife in hotels in Spokane, Washing-
ton; Coos Bay, Oregon, and Portland.

After spending a few days of illicit ro-
mance together in Portland, the pair sep-
arated. The teacher went back home to
Minnesota, Eckwerth said. He gave au-
thorities her name, and they checked on
his story. The essential details, they
learned, were true—at least as far as the
teacher from Minnesota was concerned.

But this still did not solve the mystery
of what had happened to pretty Rosemary
Spezzo.

The Westchester County authorities
brought Eckwerth back to Yonkers. There
he was held on a larceny charge, involv-
ing the theft of the coffee company’s
funds, while the investigation into the
mystery of the missing schoolteacher was
pressed. f .

On Saturday, August 25, Detective Ser-
geant Patrick Christopher and Detective
Hoffarth took Eckwerth to New York,
where they made him retrace, street by
street and step by step, the itinerary he
had followed the day he had fled from
Yonkers. Discrepancies in his story be-
came apparent, and after the two detec-
tives brought him back to Yonkers
headquarters, they taxed him with all the
angles that did not jell. Entangled in the
web of his own lies, Eckwerth broke down
and confessed.

“Tll show you where I left her body!”
he exclaimed suddenly.

High officials from the district attorney’s

office and police were summoned,.and at
2:30 p.m. Eckwerth led the party to the
nearby town of Greenburgh, New York.
The prisorier directed the searchers up a
private road leading to St. Clare’s Acad-
emy, a private school, and to a spot about
75 feet off the road and a quarter of a mile
south of Jackson Avenue. There, in a
clump of trees, authorities found the piti-
ful decomposed remains of Rosemary
Spezzo. All that the police could remove
was little more than a skeletal structure
and a few shreds of cloth.

The girl’s head, completely severed, was
found about two feet away from the rest
of the body. The skull had been fractured
in two places: across the base of the skull
and behind the right ear. The girl’s pock-
etbook, rifled of the $300 she had had in
her possession, was found about 1,000 feet
away frem the body, on the opposite side
of the road.

Eckwerth’s story — one that was
promptly discounted by authorities—was
that after the two had left the drugstore
on that Friday morning, he had lured
Rosemary Spezzo to a tryst in the woods
at Greenburgh. There he had spread out
a blue-flowered quilt he had taken from
his truck. They had been intimate, he said,
and then a lover’s quarrel had developed.
Rosemary had demanded that he divorce

is wife and\marry her, and she had
threatened to reveal the secret of their
relations to Carol Eckwerth if he didn’t.

Enraged, Eckwerth said, he had grabbed
up a flat piece of rock and had beaten her
savagely over the head until she had lain
inert and dying. «

' “T heard the rattle in her throat, and
then I fled,” he told authorities.

His story was promptly challenged by the
girl’s parents, Anthony and Mary Spezzo,
and by District Attorney Gagliardi.

“She’s dead and cannot defend herself,”
the mother cried. “She met him only twice.
She fought him and was killed.”

The district attorney said that he be-
lieved the pretty young teacher had re-
Sisted the advances of the Casanova of

traveling salesman, had been raped and
then murdered to silence her. Unfortu-
nately, because of the condition of the
corpse when it was found, there was no
way of determining how desperately
Rosemary had struggled to defend her
honor before’ she was ravished and slain.

While the evidence to support a first-
degree murder charge and an ultimate
end in the electric chair was being
amassed carefully by authorities, positive
identification of Rosemary Spezzo’s body
was made by her dentist, Dr. Peter Poli-
doro of 1006 McLean Avenue, Yonkers,
through a comparison of her teeth with
his charts and X-ray records.

For the grief-stricken, inconsolable
family, there was only one bright ray. Her
father recalled that, on the Sunday before
she was murdered, Rosemary had accom-
panied him to a Father’s Day Communion
breakfast.

“So,” he said, “she was in a state of
grace when she died.”

Giving further lie to the criminal’s story
was the statement issued by the slain
girl’s parish priest. “As her regular con-
fessor and spiritual adviser,” ‘'Reverend
Hugh F. Devers announced, “I’m in a po-
sition to state without qualification that
Rosemary Spezzo was a girl of such a high
degree of moral integrity that anything
wrong or immoral was so repulsive to her
that she would rather have died than sub-
mit to it.”

Nor had the police in their thorough in-
vestigation been able to uncover any proof
that the coffee Casanova had ever dated
the young schoolteacher before he met
her on that fatal day and offered her a
ride to the bank in his company’s truck.
Their only association had been when
Eckwerth had called on a couple of occa-
sions at the Spezzo home to deliver his
merchandise.

Eckwerth, himself, must have realized
the weakness of his alleged motive for the
murder. To the press, he declared: “I
know I’m going to get the electric chair
for this, but. I guess I deserve it.”

How the FBI Solved the
Weinberger Kidnap Murder

[Continued from page 25]

naping—charges that could send them to
prison for 10 to 20 years.

With the collapse of the church appeal
and the arrest of the heartless hoaxers,
police admitted they held little hope Peter
Weinberger would ever be found alive.
The entire area around Westbury had
been searched both from land and air,
and no trace of the baby had been found.
All of the former domestics employed by
the Weinbergers had been located, inter-
rogated—and found innocent. Handwrit-
ing experts had examined the kidnap
note and had been unable to agree
whether the writer was a man or a woman.
There was no indication that the Wein-
bergers, in their various telephone con-
versations with persons who had claimed
to be the kidnapers, had ever talked to
the actual snatcher. Much evidence
pointed to the contrary, for calls from
the mentally disturbed fringe continued
to pour in from Brooklyn, Connecticut
and from the Midwest. Sometimes the
Weinbergers would answer the phone and
hear only heavy breathing on the line,
then the click of the caller hanging up,
then silence.

42 ras

Nassau County police, in a delay that
appeared inexplicable to other law-

‘enforcement departments, hadn’t even

sent out the routine 13-state alarm giv-
ing official notice that Peter Weinberger
was missing! Not until 6:23 pm. Monday,
July 9—five days after he disappeared—
was this done. Such were the circum-
stances that made the case appear devoid

_of a single clue—utterly hopeless of solu-

on.

And then on Wednesday, July 11th, the
Federal Bureau of Investigation officially
stepped into the case.

One of the weaknesses of the Lindbergh
kidnaping law was that it provided a
seven-day waiting period before the FBI
could act. The law specified that, after
seven days, the FBI would be justified in
presuming that the kidnaper had trans-
ported his victim across state lines, thus
giving that superb crime-fighting organ-
ization the right to step in. As a result
of the national outcry over this delay
in the Weinberger case, Congress has
amended the law so that the FBI can
now act in any kidnap crime after 24 hours
have passed. ;

FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover in Wash-
ington announced that his agency had
entered the Weinberger case in this terse
sentence: “The FBI has now actively en-
tered the investigation of the kidnaping
of Peter.Weinberger and its full resources
have been made available with a view to
effecting a solution of the case.”

Immediately, James J. Kelly, Special
Agent in charge of the New York regional
FBI office, and George Gatins, chief FBI
resident Special Agent in Nassau, con-
ferred with Inspector Pinnell at county
police headquarters in Mineola. As a re-
sult, extra FBF Agents were sent into the
county, and a special FBI office, in addi-
tion to the regular one, was set up in
county police headquarters.

From the outset, FBI Special Agents
concentrated on the one and only possible
clue—the kidnap note handwritten by the
baby snatcher. The paper on which the
note was written was subjected to every
conceivable type of scientific test, and the
handwriting was carefully studied. The
FBI has since announced that a prom-
inent “quirk” in this handwriting was de-
tected. Writing characteristics included an
intensely slanted M and an ill-defined r.

The paper itself was a plain white brand
that had been made up in the form of
an order pad. The top of the stationery,
which had the identifying name of the
company on it, had been torn off, but
nevertheless the FBI was able to trace the
paper back to the Dynalum Window
Products Corporation at 194 Atlantic Ave-
nue, Garden City, Long Island. The firm
was one of several in the area which
had made up this type of paper in pad
form, This seemed to indicate that the
kidnaper was a resident.

Acting on this theory, FBI Special
Agents began a back-breaking search of

records of ever
discover a signat
that would rer
quirk they had
note. They beg
fingerprint cards
one time or anot!
area. This was t
examined 300,00!
plication stubs ir
drew a blank.
other forms of
amined in an e.
bleary-eyed G-
than 2,000,000 4
round-the-clock
didn’t find the
quirk for whicl
the dogged sear
Then on We
days after they
investigation—F
into the Probati
the sixth floor
Court House anc
active case reco?
The G-Men fi
out finding the
for which they
to leave the off
clerk had a thor
“Oh, I just rer
cases out of th
being processed
He brought «
the FBI Agen
They stiffened.
They had for
long and so ft
writing quirk!
It was conta:
Angelo John ~
who had been
for the operat}

Run

6 {Coute

various makes
saw. He work
Shop in neart
paired auto bo:
on his knowle
Soon headli
opposite direc
when it reach:
pit.
“That’s the
young Davis :
The sedan tu
a short distar
out and app:
mobile.
“Wonder wt
A flashlight
ness, playing
rest on the co
open window
fully in the :
thoughts we
fiancée. He re
flashlight awe
Immediate]
slumped ove!
in his forehe<
girl in the lef
Joan's scré
stillness as t}
car. The mc
lurched forw
inky blackne:
The sense)
sweethearts
in a drama t
countryside }
Terror-stri

.


19 defense against the accusation of her cowardly killer, ee

z

1e trivial decision that
's. She turned aside and
ckage of chewing gum.
at the counter, was a

dleased inflection in his BY LOUIS ADAMS

ng with a quiet “Hello”
she thought.
‘ perfect Romeo type—
he and hooded, dreamy
‘ows. Eckwerth was a
v him because he had
ome a couple of times , osemary Spezzo,
ontinued on page A) sre aah innocent Reais
and death when she encountered Don
Juan of coffee circuit, above, left.
purse is Detective L. ; DA J. Gagliardi asks questions. The
R. Ercoli take notes. rock used in murder is seen at left.


tke the same mistakes—the
ever catch her again.
pleasure-loving blonde was
e still longed for material
1e was tempted; but her term
natory had left no desire to
oe She went to work at
job.

n that she met William La-

was the son of a respectable

lily. He chose to overlook
ground and to accept her at
There was some objection
rents, but-he continued the

married when Irene was 20.
m Jr., was born to the young
or a while Irene was happy.
w that she still was not wel-
amily, that she was regarded
‘rand treated distantly.

, the situation became un-
ording to Irene, and she ran
g her young son. She came
9 start a new life, assuming
»and would obtain a divorce.
she met a man named Rob-

a truck driver for a packing
‘oposed marriage, but she
that she had been divorced.
2eman, though, and when he
Panic marriage, she

varents had never bothered
mality of a marriage cere-
10uld Irene worry about that

She was happy with Free-
e still was not enough money
any of the nice things she
couple did manage to save
‘ vacation trip to Phoenix,

for short trips to other

; more than she could afford,
work in the factory on the
.€ memory of the fine things
ked up during her brief
irglar in Newark, New Jer-
ys in the back of her mind.
ed, she thought more ,and
t she had gained in these
memories of her imprison-

‘ene had learned that open-
hich had been locked only
lock is a cinch. Like numer-
sewives, she had, on occa-
1 her key and had been
open the door with a table
d from a neighbor.
at her workbench, she went
3€ previous excursions into
mined her mistakes. What
if a neighbor or passer-by
a strange apartment? How
‘ince the neighbor that she
imately?
‘d over this problem a long
her method of operation.
ie neighbor of her intended
her, she could say she was
ive the name of the apart-
nt—wouldn’t that prevent
? She could get the names
s from the mailboxes—and
he didn’t get mixed up, she
em down beforehand.
ould happen if she were
down names appearing on
at one was easy: she would
e was making up a mailing
could prove otherwise?
1 her plan had been com-
out, she quit the factory
her new career.
the facts the public de-
work with: there wasn’t
3 favor except the sordid-

ness of her early life, which undoubtedly
had influenced her acts. When Irene ap-
peared in Cook County Criminal Court in
Chicago on June 19, 1956, she pleaded

ty. .

Then Public Defender Getty asked the
court for probation. Chief Justice Cor-
nelius J. Harrington denied the motion
and asked Assistant State’s Attorney
Mark Jennings for his recommendations.
He asked the court to sentence Irene to
three to 10 years.

Irene collapsed.

Judge Harrington recessed court for
10 minutes until the girl was revived.
Then he imposed three sentences of three
to eight years each in the Women’s Re-
formatory at: Dwight, Illinois, ruling that
the three terms would be served con-
currently. )

Irene is now in the state institution,
which is capably administered by Mrs.
Ruth Biedermann, the superintendent,
who was for several years a Chicago

policewoman and who has a special un-
derstanding of women that go wrong. Un-
der the wise counsel of Mrs. Biedermann
and her staff, Irene has an excellent op-
portunity to learn a useful occupation
and to become a respected member of
society.

(Note; To prevent embarrassment to an
innocent person, the name Robert Freeman has
been substituted for the real name of the man
who was Irene’s common-law husband.)

A Maid and a Monster

[Continued from page 14]

The young couple talked for a few min-
utes, then strolled together out to the side-
walk. The proprietor of the store,
happening to look up, saw them crossing
the street toward Eckwerth’s coffee truck.
And that was the last that anyone in
Yonkers saw of Rosemary Spezzo; as for
Fema, a lot more was to be seen of

im,

The schoolteacher never reached the
bank to make her deposit. She didn’t re-
turn home that night... .

Rosemary’s absence disturbed her
father, Anthony, and her mother, Mary,
deeply. Their eldest daughter had always
been an affectionate and devoted girl.
They were certain she would never had
stayed away all night without telephon-

- ing, without letting them know her plans.

“I know something dreadful has hap-
pened,” the mother sobbed to the police,
when she later reported Rosemary’s dis-
appearance. “I just know it!”

Anthony tried to comfort his wife, then.

began a search for his daughter. He was
still searching the next day, Saturday,
when he _ encountered Eckwerth in
Yonkers. The father, in the meantime, had
learned of the meeting between Rosemary
and the coffee salesman in the drugstore
the day before.

“Where’s my daughter?” he demanded.
“What did yee do with my girl?”

“Why, what do you mean?” Eckwerth
asked, a man obviously amazed. -

Anthony Spezzo told him of Rosemary’s
overfiight absence. Eckwerth was all so-
licitude.

“Why, Mr. Spezzo, I’m certainly sorry
to hear that,” he said. “But I’m afraid I
can’t help you. I just happened to bump
into Rosemary yesterday when ‘she came
in the store as I was finishing lunch, and
we walked out together. But I had some
coffee deliveries to make, and we parted.
I haven’t seen her since.”

The story was told with such candor
that Anthony Spezzo could do nothing
save accept it for the time being.

But although Eckwerth had lulled the
suspicions of the anxious parent, he was
unable to quiet the turbulence of his own
conscience. That night the handsome
coffee salesman did not return to his wife,
Carol, 21, and their daughter, Susan, 2,
waiting in their home not too far from
the grieving Spezzo family.

Meanwhile, failing to find any trace of
his daughter, the anxious Anthony Spezzo
contacted Yonkers police and asked that
a missing persons alarm be sent out. The
bulletin contained the notation that Rose-
mary suffered from diabetes and might,
in case of insulin shock, become a victim
of amnesia.

As a matter of routine, the Yonkers po-
lice began an investigation into the back-
ground of the last person seen with the
girl. And quickly they turned up two in-
triguing items: Eckwerth was a young

man with a sizable criminal record, and
he possessed proclivities that had earned
him a reputation among housewives as
the Don Juan of the coffee circuit.

Taking the more mundane details first,
authorities noted that Eckwerth had
seemed to go hog wild over cars before
he had begun to run a temperature over
dames. He had been arrested nine times,
mostly for auto theft. The first item on
his record was a reformatory sentence in
South Norwalk, Ohio; he had been held
in Washington, D. C., for larceny, and
fined $200 for a car theft in Cheyenne,
Wyoming. Dating from August, 1943, he
had been arrested five times in Mount
Vernon, New York—part of his present
coffee circuit—and the last offense had
been a-robbery, disposition unlisted, in
March, 1955.

.On the domestic front, detectives
learned, Eckwerth frequently carried his
sales pitch into other fields than coffee.
Several housewives said he had passed
out a fast line, and ‘one told of actually
having had to wrestle for her virtue.

The picture wasn’t what you would call
exactly reassuring, and a number of per-
sons, among them Lieutenant Anthony
Pryor, in charge of Yonkers detectives,
began to develop an acute desire to talk
personally with Eckwerth. The lieutenant,
trying to elicit further information, went
to the Eckwerth apartment on Purser
Street early on the morning of June 27
and found himself confronted with an-
other mystery—Eckwerth, his wife and
child had vanished. From neighbors, the
lawman learned that when Eckwerth
hadn’t returned after Rosemary Spezzo
disappeared, his wife had taken their
child and had gone away too. °

Newspapers were uncollected outside
the Eckwerth apartment door, and inside,
clothes were strewn about, indicating a
hasty departure. Lieutenant Pryor theo-
rized that the wife had gone to stay with
relatives.

The lieutenant turned out to be correct,
for 21-year-old Carol Eckwerth was
finally located in her parents’ home in
the upstate town of Central Valley, New
York. Here she told authorities:

“TI don’t know anything about the miss-
ing girl. I don’t know whether my hus-
band met her that Friday or not. He did
come home that night, and there was
nothing unusual about his actions.” She
explained that her wayward mate often
stayed away from home for two or three
days at a time.

“He left for work about 8 on Saturda
morning, as usual. He called me at 12:30,
said he had about 30 more customers to
visit and would be home about 5:30. An
that’s the last I heard from him.” ~°

Carol Eckwerth shivered slightly and
gave the impression of a woman haunted
by a horrible premonition.

“I will never go back to my husband
now,” she said. “I am very ‘much afraid
of him now.”

All of this did not help to locate Eck-
werth. Nor did other discoveries made in
Yonkers about the same time.

ws Ti aet

The coffee salesman’s employers, like
his wife and the police, were very much
distressed at his disappearance. For one
thing, he had had $286 in cash he had
collected from customers, and for a sec-
ond, there was no trace of the coffee com-
pany’s 1953 Chevrolet panel-body truck
which he had been driving.

Charles M. Port, branch manager of
Cook’s Coffee Distributing Co., 221 North
12th Street, Newark, New Jersey, the
Don Juan’s business employers superior,
hunted all oyer Yonkers and its environs
for the truck on June 28, and finally found
it parked—still loaded with merchandise
—at Sidney and Cottage Avenues in Mt.
Vernon, New York, not far from the tracks
of the New Haven Railroad.

And with this discovery the intermin-
gled trails of petite Rosemary Spezzo and
dashing Edward Eckwerth came to an
abrupt and complete end... .

It was not until August 20, 1956—nearly
two months later, and a whole continent
away—that the next news came. Although
no one could have predicted the time or
place, almost anyone could have foreseen
its nature. Out in Oregon, Eckwerth was
nabbed by the Tillamook police and jailed.
The crime? Another car theft.

Eckwerth himself was responsible for
his misfortune. He had made the strategic
mistake of writing a letter from the West
Coast to a relative back home in Mount
Vernon, New York. Yonkers police, alert
for just such an eventuality, had been
notified of his whereabouts and had, in
turn, contacted the West Coast authorities,
asking them to be on the lookout for Eck-
werth and Miss Spezzo, who “might” be
traveling with him. They had cited Eck-
werth’s record as a car thief. Tillamook
police, when they arrested Eckwerth on
the stolen car charge, notified Yonkers
that they had the wanted man.

District Attorney Joseph Gagliardi of
Westchester County wired at once inquir-
ing as to whether or not Rosemary Spezzo
was with the coffee salesman. Word came
back that Eckwerth still insisted he hadn’t
seen the young schoolteacher since that
one brief, casual meeting the day before
she’d disappeared. The district attorney
promptly ordered Assistant District At-
torney M. Morton Edmiston Jr. and
Yonkers Detective Albert Hoffarth to fly
out to Portland, question Eckwerth and
bring him back.

From his jail cell at nearby Rocky Butte,
Oregon, Edward Eckwerth was protesting
his innocence. He told reporters:

“I tried to take her out. She told me
she dated men often but that she’d never
got serious about any of them. I tried to
make out with her, but I didn’t get any-
where.

“Sure, I propositioned her. But she
wouldn’t give me a tumble.”

Eckwerth told of his meeting with Rose-
mary the day she disappeared and of how
he had met her father on the street the
next day. After this encounter, he said:

“I got to thinking. I decided the best
thing was to get out of town because the
cops would be after me. I’m a three-time

A 41


eee

as
Sete ctenmcenn ORNS cee ita tins sconetnn te AD AMON i

ECKWERTH, Edward, white, electrocuted Sing Sing (estchester) 5-22-1959.
@e@ ®@ BUT THE

WAS.
STRONGER .

5

by Sam Balderidge

The petite, 24-year-old
Bronx school teacher

chose death rather than

dishonor at the hands

of a brutal rapist

ms oo

Rosemary Spezzo failed to come home, was

found months later, her skull smashed. ,*. oe .
* AMAZING DETECTIVE, AUGUST, 1962,


hl Yonkers, N.Y. “SHE SWORE
SHE’D BREAK UP
MY FAMILY!...
$0 1 PICKED UP
A ROCK

AND BEAT HER

TO DEATH!”

$$ LOO

10/ True Crime Detective — May 1975

ECKWERTH ; ni Ss aes a
WERTH, Edward, white, electrocuted “ing Sing (Westchester)

) on

522-1959.

HE proprietor of the candy

. store in Yonkers, New York.

looked up from the counter as

Edward F. Eckwerth came in.
carrying a salesman’s leather order
case.

“Hello,” the proprietor said, smiling
at the coffee salesman. ,

“What do you say?” greeted Eck-
werth, throwing a coin on the counter.
“Got my favorite brand?”

The proprietor pushed a pack of
cigarettes across the counter. “Nice
day, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” the slender-faced. hand-
some young man said. “June 22nd.
1956 will go down in history for me. I
had a terrific day. Got two new custo-
mers, big ones.”

“That’s great,” the candy store own-
er replied warmly. He looked away
from Eckwerth and smiled with gen-
uine pleasure at the sight of his next
customer, petite, attractive Rosemary
Spezzo. “Excuse me.’ he said, going
to wait on her.

Rosemary. a 24-year-old brunette
with large. soulful brown eyes, had
the figure of a Japanese beauty, being
but five feet one and not weighing over
90 pounds. In addition to her physical
charms, the girl was extremely intelli-
gent. She was a third-grade teacher in
a Bronx parochial school. and de-

(Continued on page 12)

by Arthur Allan

HARDLY THE TYPE!

Rosemary Spezzo was a third-
grade parochial school teacher,
a gir! who had “died in Grace”
according to her family because
she had attended a communion |
breakfast shortly before her
murder. In view of her excel-
lent, all-around reputation, and
the diametrically opposite one
of the man who was executed for
her murder, one can only de-
pend on “past performance” in
determining whether the latter
told the truth about the circum-
stances surrounding her murder.
We will leave it up to the reader
to decide. |


D.A. J. E. Gagliardi (r.) quizzes suspect. Rock (/.) was death weapon.
. Killer took victim riding in truck, abandoned it after murder and fled.

most, it was felt that the couple had
eloped, if they were together. Foul play
was not suspected.

But her friends, relatives and neigh-
bors were certain she had not run off
with the coffee salesman. Mrs. Spezzo
believed her daughter either had an
attack of amnesia, having in the past
suffered such attacks, or was suffering
an attack of diabetes. Moreover, the
mother insisted that her daughter would
not have left without her medicine and
hypodermic syringe needed to curb her
illness.

After two weeks of hunting, and with
no reports from the 15-state . missing
person alarm, the Spezzo girl’s name
dropped from the pages of local news-
papers. But if the newspapers decided
to forget the case, that was not true of
Yonkers police authorities. They con-
tinued methodically to search for Eck-
werth. One clue that showed up in the
investigation was the passing of a bum
check by the salesman. On the day he
disappeared, Eckwerth passed a worth-
less $20 check to a local store owner.
This evidence indicated that the sales-
man had prearranged plans to run
away.

On July 11th Eckwerth was arrested
—but not in New York State. He was
taken in far-off Oregon by a state
trooper who was completely unaware
that his prisoner was wanted by New
York police. Speeding in a stolen car
outside Tillamook, Oregon, Eckwerth
was spotted by the trooper and ar-
rested. The driver showed an operator’s
license bearing the name Edward Eck-
werth with a New York State address.
He presented no automobile registra-

14/ True Crime Detective — May 1975

tion card, claiming he had forgotten
to take it with him.

“Where'd you get this Oregon car?”
the trooper asked, his hand on the butt
of his side-arm.

“I bought it on the East Coast from
some guy,” Eckwerth answered.

“According to my information this
car was stolen in Portland, Oregon, a
couple of days ago,” the state cop
replied.

“All I know is.that I bought in the
East,” insisted the salesman.

“I’m not saying you did, or you did-
n't. We can settle that at headquarters.
I’ll have to take you in, mister.”

The trooper escorted Eckwerth to a
jail in the nearby town of Rocky Butte.
After the prisoner was locked in his
cell a check was made on the car.
When it was found to be a stolen

vehicle, Eckwerth was charged with —

car theft. Held in $5,000 bail, which
he could not raise, the salesman re-
mained in jail to await trial.

Finding himself in prison and with-
out funds, Eckwerth turned to his folks’
for aid. He wrote a letter to his family
in Mount Vernon asking for money. It
was here that the runaway salesman
erred. A postal inspector saw the letter
and recognized the handwriting as Eck-
werth’s. He noted the return address as
well” which read, Multnomah County
Jail. Oregon, The inspector notified
police authorities of his find.

Westchester County District Attorney
Joseph Gagliardi communicated with.

‘the D.A. at Portland, WYlliam Langley,

informing the West Coast official of
Westchester’s larceny warrant against

Eckwerth. He asked Langley to ques-

tion the prisoner about the disappear-
ance of Rosemary Spezzo.

The Portland D.A. complied with
Gagliardi’s request and had Eckwerth
brought to his office for questioning.
The salesman admitted under question-
ing that he withheld $268 from the cof-
fee company and had stolen their truck
for a period of time.

“What do you know about Rosemary
Spezzo’s disappearance?” Langley sud-
denly threw the question at him.

“I didn’t know she had disappeared,”
the suspect replied. “I gave her a lift
a couple of days before I left Yonkers.
Took her downtown and I never saw
her again myself.”

“Why did you leave Yonkers?”

“Maybe you won’t believe this, but I
was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Well,” said Eckwerth, “when I
heard that Rosemary was missing and
they knew that I saw her just before
she vanished.,I figured they'd pin it on
me; so I took off. I got a train to New
York. Then I hopped a bus to Chicago,
and then went to Seattle the next day
on a bus.” ,

“Didn’t Rosemary go with you?” The
Poitland D.A. asked.

“I had another dame with me,”
boasted Eckwerth. “I can prove it.”

“What’s this girl’s name and ad-
dress?” the attorney wanted to know.

The girl the salesman claimed as
his cross-country companion was a 28-
year-old schoolteacher from Minnesota.
She was en route to Portland to attend
a convention of educators. Eckwerth
claimed the girl would verify that they
had stayed together in various motels.

“If she tells the truth. and I know
she will.” the parolee said, “it will
clear me of the disappearance of Rose-
mary Spezzo.”

Much to the surprise of Langley
there actually was a Minnesota school-
teacher who had traveled with Eck-
werth. She unhappily admitted her re-
lationship with the suspect. Langley
communicated this information to West-
chester D.A. Gagliardi.

Gagliardi, much disappointed, never-
theless managed to persuade Portland
officials to release Eckwerth to West-
chester authorities, where he was want-
ed on larceny charges.. Eckwerth, al-
ready a two-time loser, would receive
a stiffer sentence in New York than he
would have in Oregon as a first of-
fender. The former salesman was re-
turned to the East, arriving in West-
chester the same night by plane.

Immediately upon his arrival the
suspect was put under severe question-
ing. Although interrogated for several
hours the prisoner remained poised and
calm. and insisted that he was inno.
cent of Miss Spezzo’s disappearance,

(Continued on page 56)


?

so sey hn cor petty te reg

fi

§

ae am ome em cme oe ow oe we em my

a?

AN EXCITING NEW
BEDTIME EXPERIENCE

a
Fi 3) Y Flat Sheets
| Pillowcases
E Full Sheet................ $15 each

g Queen Sheet............ $16 each
a King Sheet............... $16 each

E Reg. Pillowcases....... $7 pair
a King Pillowcases....... $8 pair
Send check or money order to:
1 | HOTSHEETS cm-B6
g380 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10017

| Send for Free Illustrated Brochure
ry Enclose $1.50 for postage and handling.
cs MONEY BACK GUARANTEE

eee a eee

Frankwell Ce.,Rm 74E

SATISFY

YOUR WIFE

Is aly Sroebpany because your climax comes too fast?
In Harmony bookiet a doctor tells @ how easy way
can help delay climax, prolong pleasure, satisfy wife;
she then thrills with sensations: you evoke in her,

sires you more often @ importance of sex relations
@ health effects @ sex techniques @ love zones @ how
to make erect organ bigger, stiffer, harder @ how to
move it for clitoral arousal @ how to achieve mutual
fulfillment. Adults only. Just write ‘Send SH, I’m over

21’ and mail with only $1 (no CODs) for our reyeal-

ing copy. Plain, sealed wrapper acid ersonal
10-day return privileze. Don't miss it.
Box 120, Union City, 1.07687

WOULD YOU BELIEVE?

“1,000

EXCITING EROTIC BRAND

The largest collection of adult items
ever!!! Sexciting photo-illustrated
books, sizzling color and B&W films,
stimulating rubber novelties and other
sex gadgets. Everything you've ever
wanted to read, see, or do about sex.
It’s all here in. this é antic adult
money saving catalog. Order today!

GETea Credit $ $ $ towards any pur-
chase. Rush $2 today — money-back
guarantee. You can’t lose!

You must state you are 21 or over
or catalog will not be shipped.

P.0. Box 184=CM-3
Murray Hill Sta N.Y.,N.Y. 10016

56/ True Crime Detective — May 1975

y
!

Tas BEIM IST cha TI Te Rs Da

Questioned in the hospital and
asked why he had killed Patrolman
Hirsch, Crowley answered. “He had
me. Anyway, I hate cops.”

Marie testified against Crowley, and
Rudy didn’t help him much.

Two-Gun was quickly convicted —

and sentenced to die in the electric
chair. When he reached Sing Sing, the
guards searched him carefully. They
found a knife hidden in his shoe.

“‘What’s that for?” ,

“Try and guess,” Crowley said.

As he sat down in the chair he said,
“I want to thank the Warden and his
wife for all they did for me.”’

Duringer wasn’t there to say good- —

bye to Crowley. He had already been
executed. ea

Editor’s Note: In order to protect
persons innocently involved in this
case, the names Marie Ryan and Susan
are fictitious as used here.

“SHE SWORE SHE'D BREAK UP
MY FAMILY}...

_ (Continued from page 14) __f

He told the same story he had related
to Portland authorities.

On August 4th. 1956, the prisoner
was taken before a city judge in Spe-
cial Sessions Court. Eckwerth waived
examination on the felony charge of
second-degree larceny. made by ‘he
coflee company. The judge held him
over for the grand jury. Pleading
guilty to the fraudulent check charge
the suspect was held for a sentencing
on August 3lst.

However. Detectives Christopher and
Hoffarth of the Westchester police con-
tinued to question the suspect about
Rosemary Spezzo. Suddenly. while in
the midst of a series of questions’ by
the officers and his own claims of in-
nocence concerning her fate, the pris-
oner broke down. He cried out: “All
right. all right, all right.”

The officers exchanged knowing
glances. “All right what, Eckwerth?”

“[’]] show you where the body is.”
the young man said. his face becoming
pale.

“Whose body?” a detective asked.

“The girl’s body.”

“What girl?”

“Rosemary Spezzo.” the three-time
luser blurted out in panic.

The detectives moved closer to Eck-
werth. A stenographer adjusted his
notebook to write the confession.

“Okay. First tell us how it happened.
Teil the whole story.”

Eckwerth claimed that he and Ruse-

mary had had sexual intercourse on

several occasions. He said that on the
afternoon of June 22nd, the day the
young teacher vanished, he drove with

her to a private road a qualicr uiia
mile south of Jackson Avenue in the
town of Greenburgh.

“We got out of the car.” he said. “I
had a blue-flowered quilt and a plastic
cover in my truck. I put them on the
ground. We sat down. Things were get-
ting along all right. but then an argu-
ment started. She said she didn’t like
meeting me secretly. She wanted me to
give up my wife and child and marry
her.”

According to the suspect. this de-
mand infuriated him. He refused to
leave his wife and child. They argued
more violently. He hit her several times
and knocked her unconscious.

“When I saw her unconscious.” Eck-
werth said. “I decided there was no
way out. I had to kill her.’ ’

The suspect said he dragged the un-
conscious girl fifty feet into a wooded
area; there he beat her repeatedly on
the head with a heavy rock until she
was dead. Before he left the bedy he

stole $25. from her purse. He went
home believing no one would connec!

him with her disappearance.

When Rosemary’s father visited him
at his apartment he began to fear he'd
be suspected. After the father left his
home, Eckwerth concluded it was best
for him to skip town. He had the
company’s money and Rosemary’s $25
but decided that he required addi-
tional funds. On the way to the rail-
-oad station he made out a bum check
cud cashed it with a local tradesman.

“And that’s the story.” Eckwerth
said throwing up his hands. He seem-
ed relieved at having confessed.

Accompanied by police officials and a
coroner the confessed slayer of the
young Catholic schoolteacher went to
the wooded area where he had flung
the body. At the foot of a growing tree
was the badly decomposed body of
Rosemary Spezzo.

The coroner was unable to give an
immediate opinion as.to the cause of
death because of the body’s condition;
an autopsy had to be performed. The
corpse was removed to Grasslands
Hospital in Valhalla, N.Y.

A searching party located the blood-

,stained boulder that was the murder

weapon and a short distance from the
tree the handbag of the murdered girl
was found.

The father of the slain teacher ex-
amined the contents of the purse. He
caid that it had contained a $300 check
for deposit in the family bank. Eck-
werth denied knowledge of the check.
Mr. Spezzo also said his daughter wore
an expensive diamond ring when she
left home; The confessed slayer also
denied knowledge of that item.

Mrs. Spezzo. informed of her daugh-
ter’s fate. cried. “So she’s dead? Oh.
my God. I knew this would happen!


You Can StH! enjoy man's
FAVORITE PASTIME: watching
Pretty girts with LUSCIOUS
LEGS wearing BLACK SILK
STOCKINGS In SKIRTS THAT
FUT. Join the Reyel Order of
the Garter by sending $2.00 now
_, for registered membership
card, newsletter & illus.
brochures of 8mm movies
(coter and b/w). . . from the
dean of American legmen,
Elmer Batters. if you turn on to
legs, you'll love my flims,
T peetes aad magarieas.
Py Write #: ELMER BATTERS
; o ae Sen Pedre, CA

j 707 t

* «ye
RSAMIO4>

100 cone PORNO FM |

SWEDIS is Paton Nene one HOS. N
\

SUCKING (ANIMAL «= SB las

\Coeare $10

Corey CJPREETEEN LESBIAN Anv2-95
MOVIE OFFER BOX 85006 HOLLYWOOD, CALIF. 90072

MOVIE OFFER, BOX 85006 HOLLYWOOD, CALIF. $0072 _

FREE i

100's of HOT OFFERS
100’s of PHOTOS -

SAVE MONEY
Answering this ed is better than writing eff for gil
the ether stuff in this magazine!!! e eed
$1_ POSTAGE & HANDLING Boe AGP
OIVERSE INDUSTRIES INC. 7422 BB MELROSE, WOLLYWOOD, CALIF. 90046

HOT HUSBAND and WIFE
Young & hot to get it on for you.
6 Diff. ways to have Hot Sex—6
Choose Your Own Way.

1. 6S'ING IT 4. EATING HIM

2. ANIMAL STYLE 5. WIFE ON TOP
3. EATING HER 6. HUBBY ON TOP
SAMPLE $2.08 ALL SIX $7.00 WOT
rapt. 329 | 200 REEL C B&W $11 CO COLOR $16.00

tC) : t Di 6
GOOD CONNECTION P.O. Box 322, Verdugo City. CA 91046

| RARE EROTICA!

Adult, books and magazines of an unusual
nature. available. Some privately printed and |
not offered in any bookstore or newsstand.
Send $1 for samples and catalogue. State age.
Shipped in plain wrapper.

Frank J. Pepe Dept. CM-18

216 Cedar St. Watertqwn, N.Y. 13601.

JEAN’S APARTMENT

I'm Jean, I'm 39-23-37 of red-hot love machine, and I've

ample photos. You'll want more . . . | guarantee it.
‘ou must be over 21, and | don’t accept personal checks.
JEAN WILLIAMS, P.0. Box 1863- P-164
Pittsburgh. PA 15230

EUROPEAN
Party
MOVIES

100 FY. 8 MM COMPLETE ACTION FILM, @/W ONLY
5 DIFFERENT TITLeS
SENO $5.00 TO:

CINEMA CLUB, DEPT. CM3
BOX 85417, HOLLYWOOD, CALIF. 90072

BELOW W

~

MO

Aticy WOU t beheve tne: Ohe s ucdu:
She’s dead!”

The stricken mother was comforted
by her husband. Mr. Spezzo reminded
her that he had taken Rosemary to a
Father’s Day Communion breakfast.

“My dear.” the weeping father said.
“our daughter was in a state of grace
when she died.” The father and mother
of the murdered girl then collapsed
weeping in each others arms.

So badly decomposed was the corpse
that it required her dentist to posi-
tively identify the body as that of Rose-
mary Spezzo. A careful examination af
her teeth and comparison with dental
charts established the body as that of
the missing parochial schoolteacher.

Eckwerth’s only other statement was
that he wished to see his wife. The
police officials spoke with Mrs. Eck-
werth. She said. “I wash my hands of
him. I want nothing more to do with
him.”

She. nevertheless. volunteered to go
to the jail to see him. Confronted hy
her handcuffed husband the young wife
said. “I feel sorry for him but I can't
talk with him.”

“I want to see my daughter.” Eck-
werth insisted.

“No,” the wife said flatly. She then
about-faced and left the prison.

The autopsy revealed that the victim
had died of a fractured skull. It also
showed that Rosemary had fought des-
perately against her killer..

“I feel proud of my child,” Mrs.
Spezzo said. “I knew he had lied when
he said they were intimate. This proves
he was a liar.”

The police were inclined to agree
with the mother. They’ prepared evi-
dence to counter Eckwerth’s claim of
intimacy, which could be the basis for
a crime-of-passion defense by the killer
to save himself from execution in the
electric chair.

Acquainted with the fact that he
faced the electric chair the confessed
man said, “I’ve got to live with my con-
science. I know it’s first degree-murder.

I want to go'to the chair.”

D.A. Gagliardi presented his wit-
nesses. He narrated Eckwerth’s con-
fession to the Jury. On August 3lst.
1956. Edward Eckwerth was indicted
on a first-degree murder charge. He was
sent to Westchester County jail.

When the young wife was told of the
indictment. she said, “I just want to
forget it. All I want to-do now is. to
care for my little girl and hope that
she never finds out what kind of a
father she had.”

Edward Eckwerth was found guilty.
‘of first-degree murder. For two years

and three months the slayer remained
in the Death House at Sing Sing. In
that time his only visitors were his
lawvers.

Mis. bCKWertih inoved up-stale with
her child) immediately after her hus.

band’s arrest. Shortly before the exe.
cution the aunt of Mrs. Eckwerth said.

“Edward Eckwerth means nothing to

my niece any more. She has remarried

and he has nothing to do with her life. :

He is dead so far as she is concerned.”

Legally the slayer was alive, but for
two years and three months the pris-
oner was dead to his family. A living-

dead man, that’s what Eckwerth was

to his wife and kin, starting from the
day he bludgeoned Rosemary Spezzo

Six times the slayer appealed the
death verdict. and six times he was
successful. Said Bleakley, a few short
days before the execution, and when
the Yonkers attorney was no longer
connected with the case. “The last time
I saw Edward Eckwerth, he greeted me
as though I were an old friend. He’s
an amazing kid. Attractive. boyish-
looking. with a winning smile. You’d
never think he was a man who was
going to die in the chair.”

It was true that Eckwerth maintain-
ed this queer unconcerned poise up to
the last moment, even when the final
appeal failed. The plone at the Death
House remained open that night of
May 22nd, 1959, but no one called to
save the wretched life of the slayer. In

the company of prison officials. the

killer walked with a clergyman to the
death chamber. He murmured a prayer
with his adviser. His face was pale. He
walked steadily, head held at a normal
level, eyes looking forward. There was
no noise in the room, except for the

faint flapping of his cut pant’s leg |

where the wires of the electric chair
were to meet his naked flesh.

His head lifted once sharply and his
eyes opened momentarily very wide at
the sight of the electric chair waiting
to take his body and his life. He then
sat down in the chair. The wires were
adjusted, but Eckwerth did not pro-
test. He took a deep breath and gazed
once about the room at the witnesses who
were unable to meet his gaze. Their
eyes were not on the man about to die.
but on the gleaming silver of the table-

on-wheels that was to receive the elec-

trocuted man’s body.

Three minutes after the slayer took
his place in the chair of execution a
powerful bolt of electricity flung his
body forward to death. Two more bolts
finished the job of legally killing Ed-
ward Eckwerth. A doctor leaned over
the body. He said. “I pronounce this
man dead.”

Then the attendants, removed the
corpse of the man who had killed a fel-
low human. No one watched as his body
was removed from the chamber of
death. Nor did) any member of his
family come forward to claim the body.


talking him

he guy went

nd broke it.
ds and feet.
pushed the

was sitting
1ere around,

the way up
ptown. We
. When we
he thought

But Ernie

All of it.”
‘vealed that
two youths

mnors said.
lly wanted.”
ad only one
it over and
to question
scribed.

ce

fie

Meanwhile, out in Brooklyn, police learned that Howard
Englander had, indeed, gone fishing on the jetty at the foot
of Hastings Street at Manhattan Beach, and that he had
not returned. ‘

Iris Englander collapsed when she learned of the story
Dick Connors had told. Her premonition that she never
would live in the dream house out in Levittown had be-
come a bitter reality.

Later on Tuesday morning, Edwards and Connors were
taken to the Coney Island police precinct where, with
Licutenant Thomas Reid in charge, Connors guided a party
of officers to the jetty and pointed out where Edwards had
killed Howard Englander.

There was blood on the granite rock, and. bloody foot-
prints leading back toward land. Englander’s fishing rod,
a cap flashlight he used when fishing at night, and his
wrist watch were found in the shallows at the foot of the
jetty. But there was no trace of his body.

Three frogmen, borrowed from the navy, went into the
water to search the bottom for Englander’s body. Police
launches trolled over the surface of the sea off the beach,
patrolled up Rockaway Inlet into Jamaica Bay to the east,
and searched out across Ambrose Channel, the deep lane
of the ocean-going vessels plying in and out of New York
harbor. They cast, too, along the shores of Staten Island
and up the Narrows separating the island from Brooklyn.

Three police helicopters hovered over the area, their ob-
servers scanning the sea for a floating body.

One day passed, and another, and another, but no dead
man was found.

Connors and Edwards, both of whom had police records
in Philadelphia and Virginia, were booked in Manhattan
on charges of felonious assault, attempted robbery and
grand larceny, the first two charges being based on the
attack on Murray Lichtenstein, the last on the theft of
Englander’s car.

Arraigned before Magistrate J. Irwin Shapiro in Felony

}
i

Court, they were held without bail, pending developments
in the Englander murder. Magistrate Shapiro appointed
attorneys to represent them, Benjamin Schmier of the
Legal Aid Society for Connors, and Abraham H. Brodsky
for Edwards. ;

Because Connors was, as Attorney Schmier put it, “in
mortal fear” of Edwards, the two were lodged in separate
jails while the search for Howard Englander’s body went
on. ;

Experts of the U. S. Coastal and Geodetic Survey were
consulted about the tides and currents off Manhattan
Beach, as police sought desperately to recover the body.
Unless it was found, said Assistant District Attorney Louis
G. Andreozzi, chief of the D.A.’s homicide bureau, there
probably could be no prosecution for murder, since the
corpus delicti, or the body of the crime, could not be estab-
lished. ‘

“What if,” Andreozzi said, although he admitted his
hypothesis was very far-fetched, “Englander was merely
stunned, got up later and walked away? Let’s say there
was a prosecution, the two defendants were convicted and
executed, and then Englander, having recovered his mem-
ory, should return?” ;

By unfortunate chance, the government experts re-
ported to police, if Edwards had pushed his victim’s body
into the sea at Manhattan Beach, he could have picked no
better spot anywhere around New York City.

Precisely there, the experts said, there was a division of
tides. The body could have drifted east and north, up into
Jamaica Bay, or west, and north into the Narrows and the
upper bay. Or, figuring the time of the crime, and the
tide tables of the date, it might easily have been carried
out past Rockaway Point, into Ambrose Channel. ' ‘

If it had been swept out to sea, it might turn up any-
where; it might never turn up at all. New York City de-
tectives remembered an old mystery, still unsolved.

Beautiful Starr Faithful one (Continued on page 80)

49

Death for $1

(Continued from page 49)

night sailed from New York aboard a Cu-
nard liner. Out in Ambrose Channel, just
beyond the bay, she either jumped or was
hurled from the ship.

Her nude body turned up on the sands
at Long Beach, some 25 miles to the east,
presenting the police with a murder puz-
zle that remains a classic today.

After much careful calculation, the geo-
detic survey men said they believed the
odds were that Englander’s body had been
carried out into the open ocean.

Mimeographed descriptions of the miss-
ing man were circulated among the scores
of commercial fishing boats sailing out of
New York and suburban ports all along the
South Shore of Long Island and down the
Jersey coast as well.

Meanwhile, as the search for Englander
was pressed without letup, other youthful
hooliganism, a constantly growing head-
ache to Brooklyn’s cops, plagued them
ancw.

On Wednesday night, Patrolmen William
GriMth and Frank Broderick, in trying to
break up a gathering of a juvenile gang
on a street corner in the Borough Park
section, were mobbed by 13 boys who
pummeled and kicked the officers and
robbed them of their nightsticks before
other patrolmen, with drawn guns, ended
the fray and rescued the injured men.

Then, early Saturday morning, Thomas
Condon, 40, a partner in an air condition-
ing firm, walked down Prospect Avenue,
en route home. He was singing to himself
as he passed Ronald Loesch, 16, and Ray-

mond Wysokowski, 17, who were sitting on
a stoop, drinking beer.

They resented Condon’s singing, told him
to shut up, called him a dude and then
jumped him and beat and stomped him so
viciously that he diced in a hospital two
hours later.

Two teen-age girls saw the assault. They
fingered Loesch and Wysokowski, who
now face charges of first-degree murder,
possibly death in the electric chair, for
this wanton, wholly senseless and brutal
crime.

On Sunday, July 11th, the 35-foot fish-
ing boat Peggy D put out of the Cholera
Banks, a noted fishing grounds off the
southern Long Island coast.

At 2:35 p.m. she was cruising some six
miles southeast of Fire Island inlet, 40
miles from Manhattan Beach, when a crew
member spotted a body bobbing on the
swells.

Over her ship-to-shore phone, the skip-
per of the Peggy D called the Coast Guard
station at Fire Island, and the fishing boat
stood by the floating body until a Coast
Guard cutter arrived to haul it aboard.

It was the body of a man, clad in gray
trousers and black tennis shoes, garb
which Howard Englander had worn when
he last left home. The back of the head
was completely crushed.

State troopers and New York City police
were waiting at the Maple Avenue dock
in Bay Shore, Long Island, when the Coast
Guardsmen came in with the body. A
short time later, Robert Englander, a
brother of the victim, identified it in a Bay
Shore mortuary.

An autopsy showed that Howard Eng-
lander had been struck at least a dozen
blows with a heavy weapon, undoubtedly
the lead pipe taken from Edwards and
Connors. Parts of the skull were actual-

ly pulverized, so vicious had been the as-

sault upon the Brooklyn fisherman.
Now the authorities could proceed with

murder charges against Ernest Edwards

and Richard Connors. They were brought
back into court, still on charges of assault,
robbery and car theft, on Wednesday,
July 14th. *

Before Magistrate Amedeo Lauritano,
Attorney Schmier repeated his assertion
that Connors was in mortal fear of his
erstwhile comrade in crime.

“Connors is a smart boy,” retorted At-
torney Brodsky, representing Edwards
“He evidently has learned that the best
defense is a good offense. It seems to me
that he goes by the law of the jungle, that
self-preservation is the first law of nature.’ :-

Brodsky pointed to Connors. “There,”
he charged, “is the real culprit ahd the ~-
sole culprit, with his cherub face and nice
tie. There is the real cutie.”

“My client may be a cutie,” Schmier con-
ceded. “But yours is a vicious killer and
I insist that they be kept apart.”

“My client vicious?” Brodsky questioned.
“Why, he was asleep when this killing
took place.”

And thus in the welter of charge and
countercharge, the fate of two young
punks who sect out on a crime tour as
casually as other young men might venture
out to meet their girl friends, hangs in the
balance.

Indicted by a King’s County grand jury
on charges of (rst-degree murder, Fd-
wards and Connors are awaiting trial, in
jails several miles apart.

By now, the prospect of a grim mid-
night march into the execution chamber at
Sing Sing must seem a ghastly bargain,
bought with a $1 murder. o¢¢

When Suicide
is Homicide

(Continued from page 53)

her parents the whole appalling story:

On Sunday night, the man in the Cadil-
lac, whose name she later learned was
Earl Gentry, drove her to the Stephen-
son home. He escorted her. inside and
led her to the kitchen. The housekeeper,
who had been there on other occasions
when she had visited Stephenson, did not
appear.

Stephenson was in the kitchen with his,
chauffeur. Madge had previously ridden
in cars driven by him and she knew that
he was called Shorty.

“Come in! Come in!” Stephenson called
heartily. He got unsteadily to his feet,
held up a whiskey glass, and Madge re-
alized that he was drunk.

The girl looked at Shorty. He, too,
weaved when he stood up and in his hand
was another whiskey glass.

“J—J think I’d better go home,” she said.

She turned towards the door, but the
way was blocked by a third man whom
she did not know. Stephenson called him
Tom Burns.

Stephenson advanced towards Madge and
‘ held out a glass filled with a liquid she
didn't recognize. “Drink this,” he com-
manded.

She shook her head. The liquid was
colorless, but it had a faintly medicinal
odor. “I don’t want to drink,” she pro-
tested.

“Go ahead, it won’t hurt you.”

The girl drew back. “It’s late, David,” she
told Stephenson. “I have to get up early.”

Stephenson nodded to Gentry and Burns.
They took told of her arms and held her.
Stephenson put the glass to her lips.

Reluctantly, she drank the liquid.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he
demanded.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Never mind. It’s good for you.”

Shorty had refilled the glass and again
it was held to her lips. Unwillingly she
drank again. The glass was filled a third

time. She was forced to drink that.
“No, more,” she said firmly. ‘I want to
go home.”

“No, you can’t go home,” Stephenson
told her, “You are going to Chicago with
me.”

“Why should I go to Chicago?”

“Because I love you. I love you more
than any woman I have ever known,”
Stephenson declared.

“Well, I’m not going with you.”

Madge knew where the telephone was
and she made a dash for it. But before
she could remove the receiver, Gentry
seized her. Burns snatched the instrument.

The girl suddenly felt unable to resist
them. A strange lassitude was taking hold
of her. She realized that the potion she
had been forced to drink was overpower-
ing her.

Then Gentry telephoned the Washington
Hotel in Indianapolis.

“I’m calling about that drawing room on
the Monon,” he said. “It’s reserved? Fine.”

“All right, let’s go,” Stephenson said,

Madge, who was held by Burns and
Shorty, began to kick and scream, “I won’t

‘o!”?

“Cut that out!’ Gentry commanded
sharply and clapped a hand over her
mouth.

The others took her by the arms, lifted
her and half-carried her downstairs and
out to one of the Cadillacs. She was pushed
into the back and Stephenson got in be-
side her. Gentry crawled into the front
seat with Shorty, who got behind the wheel.
Burns didn't get in.

Even though her mind was now foggy.
Madge realized that she was being kid-
naped. Stephenson was drunk—maybe she
could trap him into letting her escape.

“J don’t even have my hat and purse,”
she told him.

“You'll get along all right,” Stephen-
son replied.

“But we're going past my house any-
how,” she said, “If you'll have Shorty
stop, I’ll run in and get them.”

Stephenson obviously saw through her
scheme. He refused to allow Shorty to
stop. They drove on into Indianapolis
and parked in front of the Washington
Hotel. While the others stayed in the car,
Shorty went inside to pick up the tickets.

Waves of inertia were dulling Madge’s
senses. Watching her chance, she reacjed
for the door handle. But Stephenson
grabbed her around the waist and held her
back. Gentry leaned over the front seat,
put one hand over her mouth.

Shorty came out of the hotel and slid
behind the wheel. “I got the tickets.”

“It was pretty smart the way I got hold
of her, wasn't it?” Stephenson chuckled.

“Sure was,” Gentry agreed.

The Cadillac sped through the light traffic
and pulled up in front of the Monon sta-
tion. The men got out and helped the
girl out of the car. Stephenson walked
ahead and Shorty and Gentry walked be-
side Madge, holding her arms and guiding
her through the station to the gate. Shorty
stayed behind. Madge was led down the
platform by Gentry. Stephenson walked

ePae

ahead with his b:

the steps and th
drawing room.

By now, she b
happening. She s
tained an upper .
made up. Gentr
berth and pulled
son closed the doc

“At last!” he er
mine.”

Madge swayed
reach the door.
back and embrac:
nim away, but he

Then he reache
sw her dress and
hen she tried to

th of her hand:
-. ¢ struggling.
rest of her clot
ebbed, her efforts

When he had
garments, he ha?
her into the low:
gasping and wee;
off his own cloth

The train begar
climbed into the

“He held me
Madge described
“I don't know—:
all that happened
my body, my ne
my .tongue and .
they bled. He c
my ankles, mutil
horrible,”

She lost consc
know what happ:

She was awak
buzzer. She co:
Pullman porter t
get ready to ge
Hammond.”

She opened her
ing over her. He
to get up.”

When she ma
brandished his r.
back on him, the
zle pressing into

“Get up,” Ste;
I'll shoot you.”

She looked up
“Please do,” sh
me, so I can e
nightmare.”

Stephenson toc
it in his suitca
seized her, lifti
Her bruised t
screamed as th
wounds. But Ge:
phenson dressed }

When the trai
they got off. Ge:
suitcdse and St
behind the girl. '
the station to tl

They walked a
the Indiana Hot:
Gentry signed tl
led them across
tor, Madge glan
was 6:30 A.M.

They followed
After he had da
checked on th:
handed Stephens
room, Number 4

As the boy s
faintly, “Please
blank.”
Stephenson m
blanks were giv«
boy not to wait.
“Please,” she
had closed. “I
my mother. Sh

“All right, bu:


is seat, a
oth hands

Edwards
v~avement.
ad, but it

nd leaped

| car, just
d Vincent
iunned the
th officers
1ere Lich-

it rise and
ung right.
s uptown,
Plymouth
nors made

Garri said.
. drive by.
out a yell.
jelp a guy

mouth, the
street lamp
lood on its

s,” Beckles
» not going
ybe not for

fir

a good long time. We're taking you in with us, right now.”

At the West 100th Street police station, Murray Lichten-
stein identified Edwards as his assailant and then, as Con-
nors and Edwards were led to the detectives’ squadroom
upstairs, their victim was taken to a hospital where six
stitches closed the wound in his head.

Detectives Daniel McInerny and Vincent Satriano went
to work on the two young hoodlums.

“We checked the plate numbers on the Plymouth,” Mc-
Inerny told the youths. “Jt doesn’t belong to either of
you.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Edwards agreed. “A friend of
mine lent it to me for the night. A guy named Englander.”

“He lend you this, too?” MclInerny tossed a wallet on the
table in the center of the room. “It’s got Englander’s
identification in it. And I suppose your pal, Englander,
also took off his wedding ring and lent that to you, too.”
Beside the billfold, the detective laid a gold ring with the
name “Howard” engraved on the inside.

Edwards clammed up. Connors gat looking nervously
at his partner, then at the two cops.

Wise in their profession, McInerny and Satriano took
quick stock of the setup. Ernie Edwards, 24, they decided,
was the tougher mug of the pair, Connors, 23, would be
the kid to go to work on.

They salted Edwards away in a back room alone, then
turned to Dick Connors.

“You look hungry, kid,” Satriano said.

Connors nodded. “I ain’t had anything to eat since yes-
terday noon,” he admitted.

Satriano went out. He was back in ten minutes with a
bag of sandwiches and a container of coffee. “Fill up,
kid,” he said. “You're in a bad spot, but it could have
been worse. What if your pal in there had got in a really
good lick with that lead pipe? What if he’d have killed
the guy he went after?”

Both detectives noted that young Connors turned .sud-
denly pale. They switched to another subject.

“Maybe,” McInerny said, “after you eat, you'll want to
tell us about the car. We know it’s hot, fellow. Only,
we'd like you to tell us.” ;

Connors wolfed down the food. He asked for and was
given a cigarette.

“You've been good to me,” he said then, ‘I'll tell you
about the car. It’s hot, all right. We picked it up last
night. .

“Ernie and me,” he went on, “we came up from Philly
a week ago. We had a room in a hotel down on Forty-
ninth Street, off Times Square. We run out of dough, so
yesterday they locked us out of the room.

“We went out to pick up some scratch. First, we got
the car. Then we went cruising around, looking for some
easy job to hit. We picked this guy over there by the
Drive. You know the rest.”

“That’s better,” Satriano said. ‘“We’ll try to get you all
the breaks we can, kid. After all, you didn’t whang a guy
with a lead pipe. Your tough pal did that. Now we'll
go in and see just how really tough he is.”

“You better be careful,” Connors warned as Satriano
and McInerny started toward the door to the back room.
“He is tough. He’d kill you if he got the chance.”

A quick look passed between the two officers. They’d
had far too much experience with young punks, working
as they did on the fringe of Harlem where muggings and
other juvenile crimes were more an hourly than a daily
occurrence. There was something on young Connors’
mind. They believed they knew how to get him to tell
what it was. ;

They turned back from the entrance to the room where
Edwards was being kept.

“J think we better take you in with us, kid,” Satriano
said. “Maybe Edwards ought to hear you tell us about
stealing that car.”

There was an urgent plea in Dick Connors’ eyes. ‘Don’t
take me in there,” he begged. ‘Look—Ernie’s a killer—”’

Here it was, the officers thought. If they could get it
all, the whole story.

“What’s chewing on you, kid?” Satriano queried. ‘You
and Edwards are buddies, aren’t you? I’ve been thinking
this thing over. The best deal all around, would be to let
you and Edwards talk it over by yourselves, All alone.
Maybe you can persuade him to come clean about the hot
car. It’d save him a lot of grief, believe me.”

“No,” Connors pleaded. ‘Don’t leave me alone in there
with him. Have I gotta tell you again? The guy’s a
killer.”

McInerny snorted. “He hasn’t got any lead pipe now,”
he said.

“He don’t need no lead pipe,’”’ Connors whined. ‘“He’d
do it Virginia style.”

“Virginia style?” McInerny echoed. “What kind of non-
sense you talking now?”

“It’s the truth,” Connors insisted. ‘You guys were good.
to me. I’m going to tell you all I know, even if I go to the
chair for it myself. I gotta get it off my chest. I keep
seein’ that poor lug, down by the ocean, his back turned
to us, fishin’—just fishin’, that’s all.” .

“Go on, kid,” Satriano urged gently. ‘You got it
started now. Let it spill out. You'll feel better. A lot
better, believe me.” ‘

Connors’ story came then in a flood of words. On Mon-
day, he said, he and Edwards were down to their last fifty
cents.

“We'd been livin’ up here,” he related, ‘‘on dough we
got from muggin’ guys down in Philly. We decided to go
out and get us some more cash the same way. We spent
thirty cents to ride the subway out to Coney Island. We

Tid.

The Englanders shared a dream, but she had premonition


48

thes i
Vie ee yaa 9 Ege’

Lh ue We dat abate EY St

sate : . ‘ sd oe

Navy woumat prepare to search for body around olor where Howard had fished, unaware that dents was stalking him

figured there’d be some pickin’s out there later on, on ac-
count of the Fourth of July crowd.

“We walked around Coney Island a while. Then we
made up our minds we needed a car, so’s we could pull
some real jobs. A car and a gun.

“We got down by a beach, away from Coney. We saw
this guy, out on the rock alone, fishin’, We watched him
a while. We figured he’d have a car, and he was all by
himself. Nobody else around.

“Ernie said, ‘I’m goin’ down and kill that guy, Virginia
style,’ I knew what he meant. We've pulled the same
deal down in Newport News, where I come from. You
sneak up behind a fellow, get him around the neck with
your arm, and break his neck. Just like that.”

Connors said it was twilight when Edwards first marked
the fisherman for his “Virginia style’ mugging. Edwards
wanted to wait until dusk. He and Connors walked four
blocks to a restaurant, where they spent their last two
dimes for coffee. It was sometime after 10 P.m., Connors
went on, when they returned to the jetty at the foot of
Hastings Street at Manhattan Beach.

“Ernie found this piece of pipe,” Connors said. “He
took it with him when he sneaked out on the rock, I
stayed back, up. onthe street. Ernie slipped up behind

the fisherman, slugged him with the pipe, and the guy went
down. I bet he never knew what hit him.

“Then Ernie grabbed him around the neck and broke it.
He took the guy’s fishline and tied up his hands and feet.
He took the wallet and the wedding ring, and pushed the
guy over into the ocean.

“Ernie got the car keys, too. The Plymouth was sitting
there, right near the jetty, the only heap anywhere around,
so we knew whose car it was.

“We got in and cruised around, back all the way up
through Brooklyn, across to Manhattan, then uptown. We
decided we’d mug a cop next, and get us a gun. When we
saw this fellow over by the drive, Ernie said he thought
the guy looked like a cop, so he’d take him. But Ernie
fouled up on that one. And there’s the story. All of it.”

It wasn't quite all the story. Connors revealed that
when Edwards opened the victim’s wallet, the two youths
found that it contained exactly $1.

“But that didn’t bother us too much,” Connors said.
“We had the car. And that was what we really wanted.”

Faced with Connors’ confession, Edwards had only one
thing to say: “I want a lawyer.” He repeated it over and
over, each time Satriano and MclInerny tried to question
him about the murder which Connors had described.

Par’

Meanwhile,
Englander had
of Hastings S:
not returned.
Iris Englanc
Dick Connors
would live in
come a bitter
Later on Ti
taken to the
Lieutenant Th
of officers to t
killed Howarc
There was
prints leading
a cap flashlig
wrist watch v
jetty. But th
Three frogr
water to sear
launches troll
patrolled up }
and searched
of the ocean-;
harbor. The}
and up the N
Three polic:
servers scann
One day pa
man was four
Connors an
in Philadelph
on charges 0
grand larcen)
attack on Mi
Englander’s c
Arraigned |

After appeor


ret bs

acest . OF.

‘ seones: :
4 Foaspecdeces 8
et CP Jed dade) :
7 AWeek:
s oT bbe

2 086

: soseve: ogeceennel. c
' i eases x

Se cad

ay, “eaccegevecese| setneey feeder noe, © "
Caseiias, 253 Bt.oge: us

| Prison. :

Seat

, pn be pi
CADPR TO AOE eget

en Daa

S lee : ie nya P suc :
ee ; aN ie

as cee eae
t Go «i
Fes. yt
Pe oe
iy FF Be ee
% 1 ty, Perea: phayirer sae 8
. i é é : oS 3 pee Re
2 . ‘S ‘a ‘ - ~ : . F ‘ ; yor e 3 Pe a % s A Bid.
a nape > +s Nana ‘ : ‘ a or | 2 eet eC NPG. rp :

m oe. os
rie
rd P ~- a © nF 7 ‘ by
6 Rew a we ne ome : rh, Core rs . : 5 ; *, 5
ns

pone) Ae ee ee eT

veya

gh tes, Gomi 8

- .
mie y
2 mate gangs AER So

Ruth Barry rejoiced when she left
her New York home, below, to
live with her husband In the
Washington, D.C., apartment, right

he had kept me waiting forever. If
only Benny had not kept that date.
For since that April evening, more
than seventeen months ago, I have been
through Hell, my young life has been
shattered into bits that never can be
quite put together again—all because
love was blind. I may come to know
the stone walls and iron bars of prison.
But whether I do or not, life never,
never can be the same. Something has
passed, something that never will come
again. The love that Benny Ertel
caused to bud, that he nursed into full
flower, has withered. The roots are
dead.

I am one more girl who saw tragedy
sprout from my chance meeting with
aman, In the pages of AcTUAL DETECc-
TIVE STORIES OF WOMEN IN CRIME, I

have read of other:such girls. I can,

recall the story of a girl who started
for what she believed was to be her
honeymoon and“ended in jail because
her young husband and his brother in-
volved her in stickups in Washington,
D. C., the scene of my own deepest
degradation. And I remember the
story of another girl—in the vicinity
of Boston, I think—who because she
allowed herself to be picked up in a
car by a glib stranger rode into the
sinister shadow of the electric chair.

Now, and it seems strange to myself,
I am telling my own story in these
same pages. I can only hope that it
may warn and help some other girl
now on the edge ... some other girl
who, in her ignorance of life, her in-
experience with men, her thoughtless-
ness in not probing into the life of one
particular man, might easily fail to see
ahead and, with eyes blinded by love,
walk straight into tragedy.

Why not? Look at my own case.

20

Boy and girl, pledged to marriage. A
harmless evening at the movies .. .

Yet we never got to the movies that
night, though Benny played a real-
life role as lurid as any ever portrayed
on the screen, and I tasted real-life
tragedy as deep as any of the cinema

variety could possibly be.

Fate wrote the scenario that night.
Beriny and I played the dramatic leads
that night—April 10, 1937.

WAS a candy-girl in a five-and-ten

on Lower Broadway, one of thou-
sands and thousands of country lassies
who had dreamed of riches and fame
awaiting them in the big city only to
find themselves standing from nine to
six, six days a week, behind counters,
trying to be nice to impatient custom-
ers. And a severe reprimand awaiting
you from the boss every day your sales
fell a little short. I craved companion-
ship, but I turned down many a date
with men who happened to come into
the store—the youths, and often older
men, who kidded with the salesgirls
and then, “What time do you get
through? ... Doing anything tonight?
. » » Oh, why not cheat on the Boy
Friend once a while, the change’ll
do you good, he’ll think all the more
of you, realize what a sweet girl he’s
got. There’s a cute little place...”

Same old phonograph record, just as
well known to me, and just as cheap,
as the ten-cent disks I heard being
played in another part of the store. I
passed up many drinks, many meals

Police interrupted Ruth’s and
Benny's last meal together in
this little Washington restaurant

better than I could afford to buy on
my small wages. Yes, I was doing
something tonight. No, I never cheated
on the Boy Friend or anybody else.
Meeting folks all day, a girl develops
a line of her own. I wise-cracked
back, told various little fibs. The right
man hadn’t come along. But as I
hustled through the deep canyon of
the street to the near-by subway sta-
tion, I felt that the right man was here
in this great city. He’d find me, and
I'd find him. I knew all about these
men who'd flatter you, be a big shot
the first couple of nights they took you
out, then drop you, all that. I wanted

Another photograph of Ruth Barry,
who knew she and her husband
were living beyond their means

something deeper, wanted someone de-~
pendable. And when I met Benny
Ertel, something happened inside me.

It was at a Christmas dance. Why
did I fall for Benny Ertel? I can’t put
it all into words. He was small and
not at all- good-looking. I had turned
down many hetter-looking fellows that
I’d met at the store and elsewhere.
But Benny’s dancing was tops, and I
thought he wore his clothes better than
any man I’d ever seen off the motion-
picture screen. It was my own doing,
I wanted him, I picked him, encour-
aged him, did my very best to hold
him. I wonder if from all those fel-
lows who tried to date me at the
store I could have selected one who
would have brought more trouble, em-
barrassment, disillusion and tragedy
into my life!

OT once did I ask Benny who he

was, where he came from, or what
he did. It made no difference to my
hungry heart. Benny was mine from
the moment I saw him. I loved him.
He was my ideal, my Prince Charm-
ing. For Prince Charmings exist out of
fairy tales. They existed in 1937, they
always will go on existing. They are
in young girls’ minds and hearts,
though often they actually have no
crown at all and charm that wanes.
Many of us have discovered too late
that they are in the same class as the
dark-eyed count who turns out to be
an unemployed barber with a murder

- ns
cake
canegvegnuan hres teser se


a

coat tape

OW long have I to live?
Sometimes I don’t care.
Does this sound like an old
person? Does it sound like a person
tortured by illness, maimed by some
horrible accident?

Perhaps it does.

* Yet I am a young woman. I have
suffered no illness—except illness of
the soul. I have met with no accident
—except the accident of meeting the
wrong man and marrying him.

I do not mean an incompatible man,
one I did not love. That was just the
trouble. I loved Benny Ertel, per-
haps too well. He thrilled me. His at-
tentions pleased me. I loved him not
only as the girl who was to become his
wife but after I became his wife. Mar-
riage would never have degenerated
into boredom with me. It could have
been a continuous adventure in hap-
piness. I could have been the happiest
young married woman in the world.

Could have been! It has a jeering
sound in my ears. I can almost taste
it bitter in my mouth. I would be
happy, very happy today, only—

Well, there was that evening of
April 10, 1937. I’ll never forget that
date. Most of the dates I learned from
history as a child at school—and those
schooldays are not so far behind me,
either—I have forgotten. But April
10, 1937. That, to me, will always
stand for the beginning of disillusion-
ment.

It started all right, that fateful eve-
ning. It was full of promise, of ro-
mance. I was sitting in my one-room
apartment on East 59th Street in New
York, waiting for the man I loved, the
man who had said he was going to
make me his wife.

Outside, in gay Manhattan, capital

Ruth Barry: “I could have been
the happiest young married
woman in the world”

houses, swank restaurants, glittering
bars and cocktail lounges, sports pal-
aces, supper clubs. Many other girls
of my age were enjoying themselves
in these places. But they were not for
me. Maybe I’d see them sometime. If
I did, all right. If I didn’t, I could take
it, so long as I had my Benny, so long
as we were well—and together. Oh,
more than anything else, together!

Dreams come to every girl. They
came to me. Some day, perhaps, Benny
would be successful, we would have a
nice home, the respect of all our
friends, the love and affection of a
picked few, children...

Happiness just before me—to vanish
like the shadow of a face in a dream.

WE. HAD planned, Benny and I, to
.go to the movies. That was enough
when I was with Benny. Later in life
we could get to know the more expen-
sive spots. But right then the sole ex-
tent of our pleasure was an occasional
movie, for we were trying to save
enough to embark upon our wedding
adventure and furnish a small place in
a better neighborhood.

It was after eight o’clock, and Benny
already was more than a half-hour
late, something unusual for him. I
admit I was impatient. Not fretful, I
do not mean that; I wanted his com-
panionship, wanted an early start that
night, to make as much as possible of
the evening with the man I had chosen
from all the world.

How bitter I’d have felt if Benny

of night-life, were big Broadway play- * had not come at all! Yet today I wish

This Girl Gambled Her Life and Her
Liberty to Hold Her Man. But When
He Proposed That She Sell Herself—

ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES OF WOMEN IN. CRIME,
November, 1938,

Page 19.

Detective Hugh Bambrick: His
career was finished forever by a
bullet In the restaurant above

» on him in Europe and a wife and
‘eral children in this country.

30 Benny’s lateness that April night
up no doubts in my heart. There
s no way for him to reach me by
2phone and I knew he would not
(me. I gladly would have waited
him all night, without one word
complaint; when we got together
d have a sincere, true explanation
his absence. That was the faith I
iin him. That was the sum of “y
_— of human nature in April,

whistled, danced about the room,
‘amed of the happiness that was so
w that night, while I was waiting
the familiar footsteps on the stairs.
Jutside the night was clean and
1—like the long-eared Carolina
‘es I knew so well that grow up in
|, straight columns before they
nch crookedly and hold out long,
ny groups of needles into the air.
decasionally a tugboat whistle
fted in. from the dimly lighted wa-
front in the distance. They sounded
ird and lonesome, or would have
inded that. way if I’d been alone in
s big city. But I was not really
ne, you see, I was waiting for Ben-

Somehow they sounded good to
. It was like a warm room being all
more snug and cozy for the howl-
' blizzard outside. Benny and: I
inst this whole big town, against
world...

JDDENLY the door flew open. Benny
was standing there with his back
iinst it. He always had given a little
' of warning on previous occasions,
vays had sauntered in smiling. But
wy he had appeared like a ghost out
the darkness. His slender face was
iked and plaster-pale. I can see
it face before me now.

just knew there was something
ong. “Benny!” I cried, rushing into
parms. “What's the matter? Tell

te stood there for several seconds
th his arms limp about my waist
‘ore making a reply. “Nothing,”
s all he said.

‘But there is,” I insisted. “You look
terribly pale. Don’t you feel’ well?”
He didn’t answer. I could see he was
cy nervous. I led him over to the
ybed and kissed him. His lips were
e icicles, :
‘Benny—something has happened.
ll me,” I pleaded.

Benny sat down. “Do I look as bad
that?” he asked,

“Terrible,” I told him. “And you
t even worse, Certainly it must mean

COL AUI A pasiogtae
ORE:

something. Come on, tell me. You
haven’t any secrets from’ me, have
you?”

I think he shook his head. I know
that he looked at me, then turned his
glance away. ‘“You’d better prepare
= for a severe shock, Ruth,” he
said.

“Well—if that’s. it, all right. We’re
going to have tough times as well as
good ones. You must know that I’m
willing to share trouble when it comes,
as well as happiness,” I assured him.

Benny looked at me. He was differ-
ent tonight. I never had seen him just
this way. “Do you really mean that?”
he asked.

“Of course I do,” I replied. “Have
I ever told you anything I didn’t
mean?”

“Ruth, suppose I told you—”

“Oh, come to the point, Benny,” I
urged. “Never mind the ‘suppose’ stuff.
I want real facts. Tell me what’s on
your mind, from beginning to end.
What’s the matter with you tonight,
Benny?”

Benny Ertel, between two detec-
tives: “Respectabiiity — hooey!
When I can drag down a grand, I'd
lose respectability, love, anything”

He took my hand in his. I remem-
ber that odd look in his eyes. “I was
with five other fellows tonight. We
were going to a swell restaurant,” he
said. “We were going to eat—at
Tony’s.”

“What Tony’s? Where’s that?”

“It’s—oh, well, it’s Uptown. And
we’d no sooner got inside the place
when one of the guys yelled out that
it was a stickup. I was in the middle
of the bunch. Someone pushed me
forward and—shoved a gun in my
hand—” ;

He’d gone to Tony’s—to eat. Some-

one pushed him forward and shoved
a gun in his hand...

T really don’t believe T saw any
fluwn in the matory. TP ocnn't quite re.
member what [| thought at that mo-
ment, as a matter of fact.

“Then all Hell popped loose,” Benny
went on. “Guns banged all over the
place—like firecrackers. I saw some
of the boys dive behind tables. Their
guns were spitting fire. I got panicky,
beat it out the door ‘and hopped a
taxi, and—well, I'm in one Hell of a
jam, Ruth!”

a ASKED for it, and I'd gotten it. I
was shaking. Things like this might
happen to other folks, but not to Benny
and me. Yet they had. In a jam? As
little as I knew about such things, I
certainly knew that much. I was sick
with fear. But I had promised to
share troubles with Benny. All right,
I'd keep my promise. I could only see
my Benny a victim of circumstances,
an innocent young man drawn into a
horrible mess by a bunch of toughs. I
believed every word he said.

“Oh, I’m so thankful that you es-
caped with your life!” I said. And
then in the same breath: “What did
you do with the gun?”

“Dropped it.”

“Did you fire it?”

“Not once.”

“Were you recognized? What became
of the others? Will the—the police be
looking for you?” I stammered.

“Yeah, I’m afraid they’ll be looking
for me, all right,” Benny said. He was
biting his lips nervously. “Somebody
in that bunch might rat on me.”

“But_you have nothing to worry
about, Benny.”

“Oh, yeah? Why not?”

“Why, because you’re innocent. Now,
you must go right to the police and
tell them everything—”

“Go to the police? Me?”

If I’d had very much wordly knowl-

(Continued on Page 42)


“to stall for a few |

a ue)

fur enough,” a

vn, and saw the
‘olyer. He stopped
second and third

William Esposito. |
- brother, Anthony, i
held it high, the
-pot between the

ne it!” the thug

ess of the stick-
an unawares. eS
eis actions. Wi at |
cnet. The mghey

and the crooks

hugging the brown

body,

- darting black eyes
head, Without a
nyer tightened on
echoed through-the
‘ue spat from. the |
‘Ing hit Nlhausman |
eves. The impact

against the side of

sepped to one side |
~ gave way and he |
the cage. Anthony |
shot into the pros-

1 stooped down, and |

vivroll parcel out of
isp.

ued at Greve. “Take
ordered,

ubled with the con-

ust have been heard
-. In a minute po-
» to the place. All

ore,
repeated. There
in the tone.
would be suicide;
the control lever.

}

watches over William
‘ance after the shootings
indignant civilians

MASTER DETECTIVE

As the killers plunged into the crowd
on ‘Thirty-fourth Street, Greve was right
behind them.

“Help! Murder!” he shouted.

The thugs darted heedlessly into the
thick stream of traffic, and made for
the opposite curb, A uniformed officer
pulled out his gun, lumbered in pur-
<nit, Traffic came to a standstill. Run-
ning men were easy to keep in view
on this street, and the killers ducked
into the exclusive B. Altman & Com-
pany department store, which occupies
the square block between Fifth and
Madison Avenues and Thirty-fourth and
Thirty-fifth Streets. They raced down
the long aisles of counters, the cry of
murder at their heels.

Women screamed and dropped to the
floor. Halfway toward the Thirty-fifth
Street exit the brothers, whecling sharp-
ly to the right, raced down the aisle to
Madison Avenue, ‘They plinged onee
more into the noon-day crowds.

UNIFORMED doorman stood at the
head of a line of taxicabs. Isidore
Eder sat behind the wheel of the cab
first in line. The killers jumped in.
William’s gun prodded the driver's back.
“Get moving, guy, or I'll drop you!”
Eder had no choice. He shoved the
car into first speed, jerked quickly into
the roadway. Traffic was heavy. He had
only gone 100 feet when the huge bus
in front of him stopped to discharge
passengers, Eder jammed on the brakes.
Anthony swore a foul oath.
“Get moving,” he snarled, “or Ill kill
you.”
“Can't you see I’m stuck,” Eder pro-
tested. “I can’t drive through the bus.”
The thugs flung out of the cab. There
was a uniformed man directing traffic
on the corner, so they doubled back on
their tracks, heading north for Thirty-
fifth Street. Thousands of pedestrians
stood in their path. Brandishing their
weapons they fired as they ran. The

Esposito, slayer of Patrolman Maher, as
and ensuing chase in which hundreds of
took part

aprin, Tt

POLICEM
ONE BAN
WOUNDED MAN KIL!
M@| HIM AS HE APPROACHES
#8) THIEF SHOOTS TAXINAN

|

Follow the racing action of this story in this self-explanatory photo-
diagram of the crime that brought tumult and terror to Manhattan’s
crowded shopping district

crowd parted magically before them.
Men and women fell to the pavement,
ducked into doorways or stood im open-
mouthed amazement as the murderers
raced by.

Two more policemen joined the chase.
Patrolman Maher, despite his age, re-
tained all his vigor. He outstripped his
colleagues, and was gaining on the fugi-
tives, The killers heard) his pounding
footsteps and, turning the corner at
Thirty-fifth Street, ran westward. Wil-
liam was in the lead, A blast of gun-
fire cleared the sidewalk. Passers-by
dropped to the ground or froze against
the sides of the buildings.

Up to this point Patrolman Maher
had withheld his fire lest he hit an in-
nocent pedestrian. Now he fired two
quick shots into the air. The thugs paid

‘no attention to it. Still on the dead run

the officer leveled his gun, and aiming
low, fired. One of the brothers stag-
gered, It was William Esposito. The
bullet struck him in the calf of the
right leg. He fell face downward and
lav still. His right hand was outstretched,
the revolver having fallen from his
grasp; his left was doubled under his
body while his gray overcoat, had pulled

up around his neck.

Maher approached. ‘Che other oflicer>
and the civilians who were taking part
in the chase came abreast. Maher
shouted, “Get the other man,” and they
swept past him.

He leveled his gun at the fallen bandit.
Up to this point he didn’t know what
erme the running pair had committed.
“Miurder! Poliee! as a civilian eall for
ussistinee whieh covers every infraction
of the law. His gun was aimed at the
prostrate figure, who was quivering as
though in frightful agony. The head
turned around, and he saw the leveled
gun,

“Don’t shoot, cop,” he begged. “I
give up. I give up.”

Patrolman Maher noted the revolver
lying near the killer. He half-turned to
the semi-circle of civilians pressing close
behind him. “Back up, please,” he said.
“Some one is liable to get hurt.” He got
down on one knee, gripped the thug
by a fold of his overeoat, and turned
him over. As his body turned, the
killer’s left hand was disengaged.

With the speed of a striking snake 1
whipped out of his jacket and a second
gun pressed against the officer's cout.


Frank Nicholson, of the J. C. Penney
Company, grabbed for the gun hand.
He twisted the weapon free. Esposito’s
right hand had plunged into the folds
of his gray coat. It came up with a
third pistol. Joe DiGregorio, who had
leaped off his truck to join in the chase,
grabbed at the weapon befére it could
be used, wrenching it out of the killer’s
grasp. DiGregorio, dressed in working
clothes, with cap and sweater, stood there
holding the gun, its muzzle pointing
downward when Patrolman Reidy, of
Traffic D, came up: He saw three bodies
stretched on the ground and one youth
who, from the looks of him could not
have been an officer of the law, holding
a weapon.

The officer aimed his gun at DiGreg-
orio, The youth stood there in open-’
mouthed astonishment, unable to say a
word,

A bystander sprang in front of the
muzzle. “No, no!” he shouted excited-
ly. “He's not the man. That’s the one.”
He pointed to Esposito.

The murderer was struggling to his
hands and knees. The angry crowd
closed in on him. Furious men rained
blows on his head and shoulders. Des-
perately Exposito tried to cover up. Feet
lashed out, thudded against his ribs, One
well-aimed kick smashed against his jaw.

As bystanders re-
gard him inquir-
ingly, Patrolman
Frank Meyer, on
traffic duty near
by, rushes to
scene of Klaus-
man’s murder

(Photo Copyright 1941 by News Syndicate Co., Inc.)

There was a deafening report. A slug
ripped into Patrolman Maher's heart.
The officer’ straightened up, staggered
back two pacex and toppled backward
to the concrete. He lay there, arms out-
stretched, legs flung awkwardly apart—
dead,

HERE was a camera-man in the
crowd of pursuers that had stopped
when William Esposito ell. He bad his
lens trained on this scene of rat-like

treachery, and recorded it with quick
clicks of his camera,

Also in this crowd of pursuers was
Leonard Weisberg, a college-graduate
taxicab driver. Bravely, he dived at the
killer, grabbed for the eun hand and
missed, Wildly the eab driver made
au second grab. It was never completed.
The thug drew his hand back an inch
and pulled the trigger. The spurt of
flame bridged the gap between the muz-
ale and Weisberg's neck as a slug tore
through his throat. The eabbie rolled
over clutching at his collar, gasping for
air,

Young George Baxter, doorman at a
near-by building, grabbed the murderer
by a foot, twisting the toes downward
with such force that Esposito could not
raise the muzzle of his gun, and the next
shot skirted the pavement.

Ss

William Esposito,
in hospital bed,
ignores questions
of Judge Jonah
Goldstein (right)
and Asst. D. A.
Rosenblum

MASTER DETECTIVE

Esposito w
Other unite:
control of th:

The Kem
in its brown
alongside thi
Reidy pieker
the pocket ay
chances wer
looked is !
conscious, bh
fallen for thes
had paid wit!
this trapped. 1
on the triger:
row! The oi
guns from «li!
on IMsposito
clamped ony
Wrists,

The main
tinued after
cers and thir:
Continuing ws
pumped lead
crowds disper-
withheld thei:
hit.

Anthony |
scruplés, Wo:
would take si
his shoulder,
C. Mueller, a ¢
over Bank on

He had fired
a second wher
plunged throug:
into the exten.
ten-cent xtore.
this wild-eved
smoking revolve

2

¥

Pe

MO POE

=

Cab driver Le
shot when he |
for Willian

APRIL, 1941


-—anybody—went
credo to kill, kill,
cle cartridge re-

-owered revolyers

left in the wake
- almost without
< City. The ‘slugs
their murderous
von-hour rush at
nd Fifth Avenue,
the nation. The
“out of the Em-
vhich towers 102

and from ad-
during the lunch
rowd of shoppers
ed a mass target

MASTER DETECTIVE

aon web

(Photo Copyright 1941 by News Syndicate Co., inc.)
(Left) Patrolman Edward Maher
(background ) lies dead beside
the thug who killed him. In fore-
ground Leonard Weisberg, cour-
ageous cab driver, falls, wounded

that it seemed impossible to miss.

This crime epic did not begin when
the brothers whipped out revolvers and
shot down a man in cold blood. It begins
more properly, as do so many other tales
of vicious crimes, in the oflice of the
Parole Board.

Joseph Canavan, Chairman of the
Commission, was seated at the head of
the conference table in the wood-paneled,
thickly carpeted hearing room. The
Parole Board was considering the case
of William Esposito, serving from seven
and one-half‘to' fifteen years in Sing: Sing
for assaulting a police officer with a
revolver, William was a swarthy, flash-
ing-eved, sullen-mouthed eriminal who
hind been reared: in. a family. some of

aprin, 141

whose members were steeped in crime
in New York’s Dead End, the neigh-
borhood much publicized in the movies.

His father, before he died, did a
stretch in State’s Prison. One sister
had been convicted on a charge of shop-
lifting. His brother Emanuel was doing
from fifteen to thirty years in Danne-
mora, the Siberia of New York’s penal
institutions. There was another brother,
Anthony, of whom more later.

The mother was head of the family
in name only. She had been born in
Italy, and although she lived thirty
years in America, still was a stranger in
a foreign land. Ignorant of the customs,
tunable to speak a word of English, she
kept to her miserable flat where she
existed on. relief.

The Commission heard the plea of
this man, brought up in an atmosphere
of poverty and crime, who was making
his bid for freedom. He was asking
them for another chance, and they gave
it to him—placed him on parole for the
eight years his sentence still had to
run. ‘Their decision sent him back to
the Dead End—back to the companion-
ship of his elder brother, Anthony, a
heavy-jawed, uncouth, snarling criminal
of whom the probation department in
the Court of General Sessions said, “He

Among witnesses gath-
ered by Assistant Dis-
trict Attorney Rosen-
blum was Mary Rowe,
former sweetheart of
Anthony Esposito

is shiftless and indifferent to the neces-
sity of working.” The sentencing judge
bore this report in mind in giving him
ten years for a restaurant stickup:

“Phe defendant is known as a sneak
thief and loafer and has been subject
to all anti-social forees of the com-
munity. He was reared in poverty by
weak, unassertive, shiftless parents.
He is a confirmed social outlaw eapable
of any offense.”

Anthony was cold, cunning. Born in
Italy, he was, because of his crime, liable
to deportation and, following a six-year
bit at Sing Sing he was lodged on Elliz
Island to await transfer to Italy aboard
the liner Rex.

It was during this wait that word
was brought to him by his sister that
his mother was ill and would like very
much to say good-by to him. Anthony
pleaded with immigration officials, final-
ly obtained their consent. Two officers
escorted him to the house, waiting out-
side the bedroom door so that the pris-
oner could say good-by privately.

‘Anthony didn’t even pause to say
hello. He went right out of the win-
dow and wasn’t seen again until that fate-
ful afternoon of January 14th, 1941.

The younger brother, William, broke
his parole three times. On this last occa-


ane wi eee

crator’s ribs. “That's far enough,” a

: As the
\ _ voice snapped, ‘ on Twi
Greve looked down, and saw the behind 11
f shining barrel of a revolver. He stopped Tel
the car between the second and third The i
i floors. a thick ae
} The euninan was William Esposito. ue ane
The second thug, his brother, Anthony, ‘led.
: also had « gun. He held it high, the rei v1
muzzle simed at a spot between the vine a
M payroll carrier's eves. " are
“The dough! Give me it!” the thug on i
Ni ordered. HE” ;
| The startling suddenness of the stick- Nay .
up had caught Klausman unawares. He Mf ec
had no time to reason his actions. What Thirte ee
*he did was done by instinct. The money aa .
didn't belong to him and the erooks a der
had no right to it. Won
“No!” he cried, hugging the brown i haat
parcel close to his body. Stra one
. Anthony Exposito’s darting black eyes a ni
M fixed on Klausman’s head. Without a Al: i .
| word his right forefinger tightened on eleieu
i § more i
the trigger. A roar echoed through the
a elevator shaft. Flame spat from the UNI
muzzle and a deadly slug hit Klausman LB head
squarely between the eves. ‘he impact Pies “
knocked the victim against the side of fir .
the car. The killer stepped to one side Wilkam’
) us the victim’s knees gave way and he ies
\ sank to the floor of the cage. Anthony Eder 7
) pumped a second shot into the pros- eae Fie ;
‘ trate body. William stooped down, and the Foal
\ pulled the brown payroll parcel out of ce en
the dead man’s grasp. rhe ‘ ae
Two guns weré aimed at Greve. “Take cee
her down!” Anthony ordered. avath me
The operator fumbled with the con- ° Ger
4 Patrolman Edward Maher trols. The shots must have been heard ‘ean
; (above) outdistanced his col- by dozens of persons. In a minute po- , rat ;
leagues in the wild pursuit of lice would storm up to the place. All te ted.”
the re ah slayers, rushing he had to do was to stall for a few Ye |
eadlong to his doom The
; valuable seconds more. cya
“Down!” Anthony repeated. There on the .
La sion Parole Agent Harold Povill caught was deadly menace in the tone. | their ti
up with him in an underground hang- To delay longer would be suicide; fifth =
out on the corner of Fourteenth Street Greve hastily shoved the control lever. stood
and First Avenue, Tn the gun duel The car dropped. Wwenpo!
that followed, the parole violator made
good his escape.
On January 14th, a cold, bright sun
ane eave New Yorkers their first taste of

fine weather in more than a week. Alfred
V. Klausman, 55-year-old office man-
. ager for Kemp & Beatley, Inc., dealers
in linen, left the company’s office at 6
East Thirty-fourth Street. It was
twelve-twenty. He drew in a breath of
cold clean air, and walked to the corner
ot Fifth Avenue.

Lena Esposito, sister of the
murder-mad_ brothers

PATROLMAN EDWARD F. MAHER — street. Otherwise he might have no-

was directing traffic. © Klausman
nodded a friendly greeting as he crossed
the street. Both men lived in subur-
ban Queens and were active in’ civic
affairs. Maher was Klausman’s age. He
had put in twenty-eight years on the
foree and was soon to retire on pension.
Klausman walked into the spacious
lobby of the Empire State Building,
l went directly to the offices of the Irving
| Trust Company, and drew the linen
firm's weekly payroll of $649. He

wrapped the money carefully in a brown
\ paper pareel, then joined the throng
\ of workers on their way to the street.
Even though the lights favored him

ticed the two swarthy men wearing gray
overcoats and dark hats pulled low over
their eyes who slipped into the stream
of pedestrians, and threaded through the
crowd at his heels. Entering the short,
narrow lobby of his office building,
Klausman stepped into the elevator, One
of the men who followed him stepped in
iso.

George Greve, the elevator operator,
was swinging the doors shut when the
second man squeezed his way in. At
lunch hour the flow of elevator traffic
is down, hence, it was not unusual for
the car to be comparatively empty.
Greve shoved the control and the cage

A woman interne watches over William

| the office manager had to pick his way — started up. he lies in ambulance after the shootings rig el
| eatefully across the — traffie-choked Something hard jammed into the op- indignant civilians took part.
‘ MASTER DETECTIVE prt:


story is
nis wife
execu-
desk to
‘r, since
el clerk
ylanket.
n wait-
sught to
yught to
zave her
fortable.
:mment.”
er men?
ered in
dividual
now the
is him-
om first-
ynly say
ely few

the first
y, Eddie
new the
gain he
juick to
{ mostly
a lot of
iy jokes,
d a bub-
ond visit,
semary’s
rder, he
| mean,

acknow-
ad been
laughed.
can call
spezzo in
! of tired

uld have
Eddie, it
» in their
e, ninety-
cent dish
d know-
ne thing
d out the
1 school,
for an
school
hough he
women,
ion with
past her

he least
io Rose-
neal at a
hen she
d when
ver, she
him. It
cocky
ee him.
school’s

he

while,”
yund the
ies—things
had ro-

VE CASES

pi tai

manced from time to time were sitting
at lunch, throwing envious glances
Rosemary’s way. Eddie saw. her look
up, intercepting one of the glances,
blush, and turn back. to Eddie. ‘Friend
of yours?” Rosemary asked. “Maybe
I shouldn’t be sitting here with you.”

Eddie laughed. “Just an acquaint-
ance. I guess any girl could see you're
kind of special.” ‘

Rosemary arched an eyebrow at
him. “Quit kidding. That line went
out with bustles.”

Eddie pretended annoyance, turn-
ing serious. “I mean that. Ever since
that first time I saw you at the house.
Boy, I felt so charged up that after-
noon, I sold more coffee than I did
any day that month.” At Rosentary’s
look of pretended disbelief—pretended
because it was secretly the kind of
flattery she, or any girl, loved to be-
lieve—Eddie went on to tell her with
equally feigned embarrassment how
he’d tried to arrange a “chance en-
counter” by following the route she
took home from school.

“It never worked, though, and I’ve
been hoping to take an afternoon off
and go for a ride with you out into the
country.” He shook his head slowly,
looking up. “No chance of that,

though, I suppose. You’ve probably

got a steady and don’t date.”

Rosemary . shook her head. The
summer was just coming in, and the
weather was beautiful. And she liked
the handsome salesman who had a
kind of little-boy ingenuousness. “No,”
she said, “I don’t go steady. And J
think it would be fun to go out for a
ride.”

Eddie whooped, and people turned
to look at him. “Wonderful!” he said,
lowering his voice. “How about this
afternoon? It’s gorgeous out—and—
gosh—I feel so doggone good right
now—I’ll take the afternoon off, and
we'll go for a ride today.”

Rosemary caught his enthusiasm.
His impetuousness made the drive
seem like an adventure, and Rose-
mary, laughing, nodded. “Sure let’s
go!”

As soon as they’d finished eating
they went out to the panel truck, and
Eddie made a few jokes about “the
chariot.” The spirit of fun was in
Rosemary, and she laughed off his
apologies about the truck. “I’ve never
been out on a date in a truck,” she
said. “But there’s always a first time
for everything.”

That’s what Eddie was thinking,
too.

OSEMARY didn’t arrive home

that night at the usual time, and
after waiting until almost midnight,
hoping against hope, Mrs. Spezzo
called the police. Since the girl had
been missing only a few hours, the
case was given the routine Missing
Persons treatment, with calls to. hos-
pitals, the morgue, and a_ general
broadcast to patrol cars to be on the
lookout for her. Meanwhile, Mrs,
Spezzo had phoned all Rosemary’s
friends and their relatives, and soon

TE PORTABLE
HOME BAR

For Indoor Or
Outdoor Use —
Parties —
Gatherings —
Basement or

Den

This beautiful, portable
Home Bar makes it easy
to serve guests in real
style. Made for both in-
door and outdoor use,
Its handsome contrast
-Of wood grain & gold
finish makes for a
pacts | setting In the
home, Adds class to any
poy or gathering, and
points up the cleverness
of its proud owner. And,
for relaxing at home, in
the parlor, den or base-
ment it’s certainly a con-
venient, handsome ad-
dition. Only $4.98: Com-
parable in satisfaction
and utility to bars selling
for $30.

~ ~
SS 10 DAY FREE TRIAL
Use it 10 Days FREE! If not delighted,

FEATURES

It's Portable — Sets Up Indoors Or Out
Built In Shelf Holds Full Party Supplies
Handy For Drinks, Pretzels, Chips, etc.
Stain Resistant Bar Top

eeceve

return for full refund, But Order now. Be-
cause of its large size we are forced to
d ask for 63c additional shipping charges.

MONEY BACK GUARANTEE
THE S. J. WEGMAN COMPANY

It's Big—

39” wide. 38” high. 13” deep
Sturdily built of aluminum laminated & wood
grain finished Multi Flute fibreboard, this hand-
some home bar is resistant to alcohol and soda
stains. Handy built-in shelf holds full supply
of bottles, glasses, and napkins. Full size bar
top holds drinks, pretzels, chips, etc. Sets up
in a jiffy and folds compact for easy storage.
A beaut for your home, and a novel gift.

I LYNBROOK, NEW YORK DEPT.BR70 §
| Rush my new portable Home Bar at once

If | am not delighted '! may return it after
| ten days Free Trial for prompt refund ae |
I full purchase price.

© Send C.0.0. | will pay postman on veg
| livery plus C.0.0. shipping charges.

C1) | enclose 4.98 4 63c shipping charges. |

A eae ,
ADDRESS .........ceccececeeseeces

no a a Gee mes oes ore

RT SOCIAL ADVISER

and WOMEN: Write TODAY ‘to Professor
HERICART forwarding NAME and ADDRESS and
will receive by return absolutely FREE booklets,
index and prices of these (4) famous books
written in english: (1) “How To Act Correctly
In Your Own Social Sphere Or In A Higher One’’
(2) “Social Strategy, Courtesy &. Good Manners.
For Success In Life’. (3) “Private Guide For
Bride & Groom From Their Initial Meeting Up
To Beyond Their Marriage’. (4) ‘‘Social Behavior
for Bride, Groom & Relatives From Their Enga-
a » gement Up To The Wedding Day’, WRITE TODAY
. requesting FREE booklets & prices to
Prof. HERICART HERICART BOOKS CO.

The author = Casilla 1211, Bs. Aires, Argentina
Mentioning this magazine while writing you will obtain a giant discount

.

HERICA

BUILD MUSCLES & HEALTH $4 on
with BODY BUILDER —onty Bf pais

This new Chest Pull Bull
ratty Malate Aa faze

Forget completely nagging back-
aches! Look and feel years younger!
Slip on amazing Lady Anatone Belt.
Instant relief—like strong hands sup-
porting you. Slims your tummy —
gives you a smooth new silhouette,

| prove that in
Only 15 Minutes
@ you can start to

memes meen
Su" isesete 2
~so

Send for free Sample Lesson today! I will include 5
simple ‘‘play-at-once”’ songs— a Note Selector for your
right hand—and my Patented Automatic Chord Se-
lector to strike simple bass chords instantly with your
left hand. No ‘‘tricks’’ in my tested, proven method.
You actually learn by, playing piers single note melo-
dies with one hand, while striking beautiful simple
resonant bass chord accompaniments with the other.
No tedious scales. No boring exercises. No dreary
practice. Just delightful enjoyment. Simply send name,
address, and 10c for postage and handling i:

DEAN ROSS, 45 West 45 St., Studio A-1002 New York 36.

without stuffed-in-girdle-feeling.
Wonder-working Sacro-Guard de-
signed by doctors banishes Back-

Ache, relaxes cramped, tired Outline
muscles, provides new Freedom and Shows
vitality. Preshaped to natural body

lines, can’t wrinkle or roll. Finest

elasticized fabric, adjustabie side 24" —46"
opening, four long-life garters.

Unconditional money-berk guarentee, 4x8

I MAGIC-MOLD, tne., Dept t-37-F[ °F

467 Livonia Ave., B’klyn 7, N. Y.

Rush me for 10 days’ FREE TRIAL a LADY
ANATONE BELT. I will pay postman $4.98 (plus

| postage). If not completely satisfied, I may return
ie LADY ANATONE for full refund of purchase
price,

postage. Same money-back guarantee. (Add 50¢ ex-

59

Seated
waist sizes

| () Save money. Enclose money now and we pay |

As SES. Si Feanten see Foreign testers. Propel ool.) |

= SSA SE TS

SALESMAN ADMITS

He Leads Police to Body of!

YONKERS SLAYING

Parochial School Teacher
Missing Since June

; Im an unsch
ay estchester
Brdav. hustle

it Teacher Slayer"

be piste,

ro, of 1006 McLea * Saree ea:
eka mea ee to the police labora.

pital morgue ~ alysis of stains,

e y the Temaing, This bass No Remorse
Pp the basis of his charts as the quilt which Eck.
and/Werth said he h,
eduled development, Porsocge of work he had/ground before pe adhe on the
County police Yee oa animes, nee included) ih mete
g " rT.
d coffee salesman ied the victim ag” door” er wife, ney Mas
E ;

ward ° uy

efense of 'Passion’

$s

Sweetheart, yestps

Words of Doom

Cool ang
Eckwerth, 29, Be erturbed, ‘Edwar

tencin
the a

murder of his school

Public, hungry for
details about the
‘big case, demanded
and got heavy cov-
erage by the papers.

Od.
to the p ee

aWaite ;
der :

THUMBS NOSE AT EXECUTIONER repits

Bitter at death sentence, slayer thumbs his nose in
defiance of the world he may soon be leaving behind.

Wishful-thinking may be the handmaiden of ro-
mance, but. it’s the foe of intuition, and both are
the arch-enemies of mature judgment. And so girls
wish, and then believe, and when the truth comes out

about the man, there’s no romance,: but tragedy.

_What happens when the girl finds out that her

-Knight in shining armor is married to another so-

man? Many things: a New. York TV actress on the
road to success commits suicide with an overdose of
sleeping pills; a Hollywood star, desperate because
her lover won’t get a divorce, kills ‘herself; a ‘Balti-
more husband, frightened that the girl will tell his
wife, murders her; a humiliated Maine father, seeing
the shame of his daughter at her discovery that her
lover’s married, shoots her dead and turns the gun
on himself. The. romance has turned to tragedy.

mitted in Proverbs 30, was incapable of fath-

| cers the wisdom of King Solomon, as he ad-

Detecti:
site—vi
men M

oming

Eddie

salesm:

life, re

of all f

P 3 to him
a devc
werth }
Rosem:
do the
to both
If a
and nc

werth
being |
her, a «
a challe
trophy
quests.
man ha
delighte
that he
quests.
charm
More
ated—pe
for exa
from at
got son
Nor did
Eddie. |
wered |
Avenue

DD]
Yor
Compar
was doc

_/CONFIDENTI4


»s his nose in
eaving behind.

naiden of ro-
and both are
And so girls
uth comes out
ut tragedy.
out that her
another .wo-
actress on the
n overdose of
erate because
rself; a Balti-
| will tell his
father, seeing
very that her
urns the gun
tragedy.

yn, as he ad-
able of fath-

a
Ss
¥
¢

treets he hit every few weeks. Eddie had

ig Way. >)
When Ros

e was well started on his'sales spiel before.she even

“had’a ‘chance to ask. him why he was there. Over’

is’ shoulder, “she sawthe company’s panel truck
arked out front, which showed he was a legitimate
Salesman.’ And, since’the Spezzos could always use
coffee, she decided to buy some. When she returned
from getting her purse in the kitchen, Eddie was in
the ‘hall, but. she didn’t think a-thing about it. “He
was at his ‘most ingratiating. They chatted and laugh-
ed},and she told him that-she taught school. When he
eft; he. said he hoped she would remember him be-
Ci would be back. He was'at his charming
est, and he’d made quite an impression on Rose-
‘Mary. She said she would. 5

F she’d known something about his past, Rose-
‘mary would have remembered Eddie even better.
t' the age of. eight, he had started running away
- from: home, ‘and he was finally committed to the

5.7% NS he stayed. off/and on, ‘until he was fifteen. As soon
Detective Dawson holds evidence found ‘at murder as he’ got out, he decided ‘that the,world:kind of owed
site—victim’s disintegrating pocketbook. Patrol- him a living, and he took to shoplifting and taking
i; anything ‘he; could get his hands. on. He liked girls

men Mercatante and Ercoli assist ‘in ‘the search

‘with ‘the kifid.of tough*women he attracted, playing

hoe (4) "the big-shot»was’a sure-fire way: of keeping them
: oming “the way of a man with a maid.” What did “interested. © 0 Ps ie

| Eddie Eckwerth, the smooth-talking, good-looking Fora hood, Eddie had the chameleon ability to
i salesman who suddenly, adventitiously, came into her ~ Play the part,of the nice guy, too. It wasn t only wo-
\ lifé, really want with Rosemary~Spezzo? Why her, men who fell-for him. He had a con-man’s ‘charm,

of all people, when so many women were’available, and oat talk his, way into jobs for which he
to him? Without going into the reasons why, with "wasn’t really fitted. The. only reason he,wanted the
a devoted, attractive wife, he néeded them, Eck- — jobs was to bé-near the cash register. He got tired
werth knew women who were better looking than Of stealing small amounts ‘as he got a little: older,
Rosemary, more his type, and above all willing to and so-he started burg-. (Continued on page 58)
do the things he wanted. Why did he feel compelled Eee eNewe WANG! RAND 17 gs ’
i to bother Rosemary? gi uae
: If a man with a Casanova complex has reasons,
ee and not just animal urges, it’s probable,.that Eck- “|
werth went for Rosemary simply because, besides
being pretty, she was an utterly nice gitl. He’ saw
her, a dainty thing, a highly moral girl, and She was
a challenge to him. He wanted her, physically, as a.
trophy to join the collection of: his Casanova con-
quests. He*was. secretly delighted to know that no
man had ever touched her, really. But he was neither
delighted nor amused when Rosemary made it plain ©
K that he could never add her to his cOlléction of con-
quests. And when she thwarted him, his glib, smooth
charm gave way to.rage. ay
More often than not, these situations aren’t cre-
ated—people just drift into them. Eddie Eckwerth,’
for example, didn’t see Rosemary and admire her
from afar over a period of time until, somehow, he
got some mutual acquaintance to introduce’ them.
Nor did Rosemary go. out of her way to get to know =;
Eddie. It just happened that one day Rosemary ans-
wered the door at her folks’ home on Edgewood
Avenue, Yonkers, New York, and Eddie was there.

se

DDIE was a coffee salesman who worked the
Yonkers area for Cook’s. Coffee Distributing
Company, of Newark, New Jersey. A lot of his work
was door-to-door selling, and Edgewood: Rpad was”

1t’s always the innocent who suffer most. Heartbreak
follows shock as slayer’s lovely wife hears that her
husband has confessed to Rosemary Spezzo’s murder.

.CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE

fal ta

CASES —

=X, on *  Childten’s*"Home in-Dobbs Ferry, New York, where ©

with a consuming passion, and‘ he soon found: that:


—

Considers It Finest Course
“What | learned from Palmer has
been invaluable to me ever since.
Naturally I'm an enthusiastic booster
for the Staff and the course,'' sfates

d . Keith Monroe, widely known writer for
Post, Life, Reader's Digest, etc.

Maybe You, Too, Can

WRITE

Stories, Articles, TV Scripts

Would you be willing to spend a few
hours a week learning to write so you
may earn $500 to $1500 a year in addition
to your regular income? Or many thou-
sands on a full-time basis? We have
helped many a former office worker, ex-
ecutive, soldier, housewife, mechanic and
teacher to write for money, Why not you?

“Demand Greater Than Supply”

—say editors. ‘Fiction editors report in-
tensive search for talent” and ‘“Non-
fiction is enjoying unprecedented popu-
larity” (from The Writer) ... TV offers
writers “finest, richest opportunities they
have ever known” (Hal Roach Studios).

Learn From Successful Writers

Palmer Institute’s unique method of
training makes it easier than you may
imagine to learn—for NOT just one fleld
of writing but for all: Fiction, Article,
TV, Motion Pictures. It is endorsed by
famous authors and hundreds of success-
ful graduates and its accreditation by
The National Home Study Council is as-
surance of reliability and integrity. You
receive interesting, understandable in-
struction and individual coaching by pro-
fessionals who go over your writing, giv-
ing helpful, detailed instructions showing
how to write salabie material.

Household Buys Student’s First Article

“TI received a big check from Household for: an
article on the ‘date’ complications of my teen-age
daughters. Your lessons are so clear it's a real pleas-
ure to work out the assignments. Instructors take
personal interest and give h t encourag it."
Genevieve G. Thompson, Oil City, Pa.

Selis to Post, NBC-TV, CBS

‘Your simple, direct approach to the problems that
confront a writer, how to meet these problems. recog-
nize a story idea. plan and finish the story were of
enormous value to me.''—J. Graham Doar (Author of
“The Outer Limit''). Gearhart, Oregon.

Sells to Coronet, Reader's Digest

“What can Palmer training give me? I asked myself
six months ago. Answer: Now I've sold to Coronet,
Reader's Digest and others.''—Mrs. Catherine Benion,
Milton, Pa.

Free Sample Lesson Shows How fo Learn

at Home for Part or Full Time Career

So you can see for yourself how you
Mmay.cash-in on the opportunities for new
writers, we will send you free a typical
complete lesson package and our 40-page
book, “The Art of Writing Salable
Stories,” showing how we help new writ-
ers get started and established writers
get into big pay fields.

Frankly, we make this offer because we
are confident that when you see how in-
teresting and helpful our training is you
will want to get started earning extra
money or enjoying the independence and
freedom of a full-time writing career. No
obligation; no salesman will call. Send

now before you forget!

Palmer Institute of Authorship

Accredited: National Home Study Council

r Miiads Since 1917 ‘a pestwil
1680 N. Sycamore, Desk SD-87 for
Hollywood 28, Calif. Veterans

Mail This Coupon or Send Postcard

‘ Paimer institute of Authorship
‘ 1680 N. Sycamore,
F RE E hottywood 28, Calit., Desk SD-87

Please xend me free lesson package and 40-paze book.
explaining how you help new writerx vet started and
experienced writers Increaxe their income,

ee Zone... .Btate......65

!
| Mrs:

a ai spies cilia

58

as wpe

much like everybody else. His job is
extraordinary. He needs a steady hand
and a clear brain for his work, but at
home, he can relax like the rest of us
mortals.

Of Robert Elliott, it was written
that he never discussed-his work with
anyone and when he first got the job
of executioner, his own daughter did
not know it. One day, when the EI-
liotts were having breakfast, his child,
at that time, aged ten, saw a headline
in the morning paper referring to
Elliott’s tenth execution. Prominently
displayed on the front page was Rob-
ert Elliott’s picture.

When his child realized the full im-
port of the newspaper story, she burst
into tears. Elliott wept also.

Toward his wife, Elliott was ever
gentle and considerate. She often ac-
companied him when he went out

of state for an execution. The story is
told that once, when he left his wife
in a hotel, on his way to an execu-
tion, he stopped at the hotel desk to
ask for another blanket for her, since
she was feeling cold. The hotel clerk
promised to send up an extra blanket.
Elliott however, insisted upon wait-
ing for the blanket to be brought to
him. This he immediately brought to
his wife’s room and did not leave her
till he felt she was quite comfortable.
Then he went to do his “assignment.”

Is the executioner like other men?
This question must be answered in
the imagination of the individual
questioner. For no one can know the
answer except the man who is him-
self in a position to know from first-
hand experience. We can only say
he has a job which relatively few
people covet.

HE KILLED HER—
AND KILLED
HER AGAIN

«(Continued from page 21)

larizing places. He moved from that
to car theft, and during World War II,
he swiped a car in Harrisburg, Penn-
sylvania, and got away with it. But
shortly afterwards, he got caught steal-
ing the second of two-cars in Mount
Vernon, New York, and was sent to
Elmira Reformatory, where reform
was the one thing he didn’t-learn.

Eddie got out in 1948, and for a
while he went straight, exerting the
charm enough to keep busy at a series
of salesman’s jobs and getting mar-
ried to an attractive’ brunette. He
managed to keep secret from his wife
all his sordid past, and when he went
back to small-scale thefts in 1953,
she didn’t know about that, either. In
1954, just before the birth of their
child, they moved to Purser Place in
Yonkers, where Eddie put up a show
of being a good family man while
he operated out of gin-mills as a small-
time crook.

Eddie’s ability to talk stood him in
good stead over the years, because he
was able to sell judges a bill of inno-
cence when he got picked up on minor
charges. He was arrested nine times
in all, but in 1955, in Orange County,

- he was convicted of an assault charge,

coupled with grand larceny in a
robbery case.‘ He was out on bail,

pending a review of the case when he ©

met. Rosemary.

aS

COUPLE of.weeks after the first

encounter with Rosemary, Eddie
was back at the Spezzos’ to renew the
order for coffee, and once again he
saw Rosemary. Eddie was quick to
get familiar with people, and mostly
they didn’t mind it. He was a lot of
laughs with his stock of corny jokes,
and as a salesman he exhibited a bub-
bling good nature. By this second visit,
Eddie had found out Rosemary’s
name, and as he took the order, he
blurted, “Thanks, Rosemary—I mean,
Miss Spezzo.”

He gave her a large wink, acknow-
ledging that the mistake had been
deliberate, and Rosemary laughed.
“That’s all right. I guess you can call
me Rosemary. I hear Miss Spezzo in
school all day, until I get kind of tired
of it.”

To an eavesdropper, it would have
seemed like small-talk. To Eddie, it
represented an opening wedge in their
relationship. This five-foot-one, ninety-
two pound doll was an innocent dish
he’d like to know better. And know-
ing a girl better meant only one thing
to Eddie Eckwerth. He found out the
route she took to and from school,
but he didn’t get a chance for an
“accidental” meeting before school
was over for the summer. Although he
had plenty of dates with other women,
Rosemary became an obsession with
him, and he took to driving past her
house in hopes of seeing her.

HEN on June 22nd, when he least
expected it, Eddie ran into Rose-
mary. He was finishing his meal at a
luncheonette downtown when she
walked.in. She was alone, and when
he waved and beckoned to her, she

came over and sat down,with him. It.

was obvious, particularly to the cocky
Eddie, that she was glad to see him.

“What are you doing, now school’s
over?” he asked her.

“Just taking it easy for a while,”
Rosemary said. “Helping around the
house—seeing a few movies—things
like that.” |

A couple of girls Eddie had ro-

[FIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES

Ts alegre a Ra

manced from t
at lunch, thr
Rosemary’s \

up, interceptin,
blush, and turn
of yours?” Ro
I shouldn’t be

Eddie laug!
ance. I guess :
kind of special

Rosemary
him. “Quit }
out with bust

Eddie prete
ing serious. *!
that first time |
Boy, I felt so
noon, I sold n
any day that 1
look of pretenc
because it was
flattery she, o1
lieve—Eddie
equally feigne:
he’d tried to
counter” by {
took home fro:

“It never w«
been hoping i
and go for a rid
country.” He ;
looking up.
though, I supp
got a steady ar

Rosemary s!
summer was jt
weather was be
the handsome
kind of little-bo\
she said, “I di
think it would |
ride.”

Eddie whoo;
to look at him.
lowering his v
afternoon? It’s
gosh—I feel s
now—I’ll take
we'll go for a

Rosemary ¢:
His impetuous:
seem like an
mary, laughing

As soon as
they went out |
Eddie made a
chariot.” The
Rosemary, and
apologies about
been out on a
said. “But there
for everything.”

That’s what
too.

OSEMARY
that night
after waiting ui
hoping against
called the police
been missing o:
case was given
Persons treatme:
pitals, the mor;
broadcast to pat:
lookout for he
Spezzo had ph¢
friends and thei:

ARDEA 62>


‘Officials knew that this technicality would.

be a hard one for. the people to accept in view
of the viciousness of the attack on Englander.
They made every effort to make their po-
sition clear, The head of the homicide bureau,
Assistant District Attorney Louis G. Andre-
ozzi, explained, “A confession alone is not
enough. Suppose this man was only stunned
by the blow and wandered away. If we could
convict these men of murder without actual
proof, they might be executed and then th
victim might turn up alive.” :

But there was a dark-haired, grief-stricken
woman in Brooklyn who knew Howard Eng-
lander was never going to turn up alive; a
woman who could only gather up her be-
wildered little three-year-old daughter and ex-
plain that the lapghing, loving man who just
two days before had taken the -little girl out
onto a big granite block and held her tiny
hands gently around the pole while he threw
his line out into the sea, would never be
there to give her a second lesson in casting.

And there was a sad-faced, unbelieving old
gentleman who sat in the front- room of his
home on 18th Street in Brooklyn ‘with the
blinds drawn and wondered why this had to
happen to his boy. He knew his son wasn’t
wandering dazed along some shore front. He
wouldn’t even let himself clutch at such a
ridiculous thread of hope. :

But the law was the law and while a
heartbroken family prayed and an angry pub-
lic seethed, the two Philadelphia punks lounged
in their cells possibly taking pleasure from the
news stories that indicated they might never
have to face up to the crime one of them said
they had committed.

Dean Jerome Prince of the Brooklyn Law
School tried to make the haunting legalistic
twist more acceptable to news readers.
“Death,” he said, “must be proved by direct
evidence in fis case, and that would be the
body or @ portion of the body . . . hands,
fingerprints, denture or the like.

“Without that there would be very little
chance of getting a conviction.”

HE explained that Connors’ testimony
against Edwards would be that of an ac-
complice and would require corroboration
from an independent witness and without that
before the indicting grand ‘jury, the indict-
ment would “undoubtedly” be thrown out.

He cited an 1858 case in which the Court of
Appeals threw out the murder conviction of a
man whose wife and child, whom he was
known to hate, disappeared and he was. seen
driving into deep woods with a box large
enough to contain two bodies.

The court ruled: “To warrant a conviction
of murder there must be direct proof either of
the death by finding and identification of the
corpus delicti or of the criminal violence ade-
quate to produce death and exerted in such a
manner as to account for the’ disappearance of
the body.”

That interpretation, written into the books
almost 100 years ago, is still the law today and
as a result the two hoodlums, timorous Con-
nors who had rattled off the confession, and
surly Edwards who had said nothing, could
anticipate no more serious a chargé than that
of felonious assault and attempted robbery.

Meanwhile a fleet of surface craft including
Coast Guard cutters and helicopters, con-
tinued to scour the area from Staten Island
to Suffolk for the missing body. Police

launches searched the sea front from deep in
Jamiaca Bay and all along Brooklyn’s south
shore, but by Sunday, July 11, five days after
the attack, no-sign of the body had been
found. . ;

. Then that afternoon, six and one half miles
off-shore from Fire Island in the inlet off Long
Island’s south shore, almost 40 miles from the
murder scene, the crew of the fishing boat
“Peggy D” spotted the body’ floating in. the
ocean. Carefully, so as to preserve every bit of
evidence possible for identification, the water-
logged corpse was taken into a coast guard cut-
ter at 3:45 that Sunday afternoon and piloted
to the Maple Avenue dock in Bayshore, L. I.

The body was clad in blue gray trousers and
black tennis shoes, part of the clothing worn
by Englander on the day he was killed. The
back of the head had been so thoroughl¥
crushed that parts of the skull were actually
pulverized. The body was taken to a Bay
Shore undertaking parlor to await the ar-
rival of the victim’s brother, Robert, who had
been advised of the discovery at his home in
Levittown. .

Mr. Englander arrived with the victim’s
brother-in-law, George Gorbatoff, of Brook-
lyn, and the two men looked down at the
mangled, swollen, distorted shape.

“It’s Howard,” Robert said after a brief
silence. His voice was choked with emotion
and after he had made the identification he
turned away quickly. “Please,” he said, “don’t
make my father see this. It would upset him
too much,”

The body was taken to Kings County
morgue for an autopsy.

Meanwhile the courts moved quickly to
get the charge of felonius assault against
Connors and Edwards out of the way and get
on with the more serious charge of murder.
On Tuesday, July 13, the two men appeared
in felony court. with their court-appointed
lawyers. There was strong feeling expressed
by both attorneys in relation to their clients.
Connors’ lawyer said his man was in mortal
fear of Edwards and described the latter as a
vicious killer. Picking up the plea of his
white-faced charge, the lawyer insisted that
the two men must be kept apart.

But Edwards’ attorney had a different story.
His arm shot out and he pointed at Connors.
“He’s a smart boy who has evidently learned
that the best defense is a good offense. It
seems to me that he goes by the law of the
jungle, that self preservation is the first law
of nature.”

He continued his scathing attack on the

cowering Connors. “There stands the real cul-
prit and the sole culprit with his cherub face

and _ nice tie. There is a real cutie.” His client, |

Edwards, he said, was asleep at the time of
the slaying.

Connors’ attorney was on his feet. “My
client may be a cutie,” he said, “but yours is
a vicious killer. I insist that they be kept
apart.”

Brooklyn’s District Attorney Edward Silver
was moving quickly to get a murder indict-
ment against the pair from the grand jury.
Hearing on the charges was set for July 22 by
Magistrate Amedeo Lauritano.

At this writing the two men are imprisoned,
awaiting the outcome of the hearing. And
Connors’ plea for protection has been hon-
ored. He-remains apart from the man he says
he “holds in mortal fear,” but it will remain

fora jury to decide which of the two men

was the actual killer.

FREE!

200 preview copies

How did you like the stories and

‘ features you've just read in this issue
of FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE? We.

are sending SPECIAL PREVIEW
copies of FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE
to the first 200 readers who let us
know. Simply check off the three
titles (and only three) of stories you
liked best in this October issue, and
mail the ballot to us. Even if your
vote isn't among the first 200, you
can be sure it will help us decide
what kind of stories to print next
issue!

HAVE NOTHING MARTHA STRIKES
BACK

DON'T PUT ME IN WITH HIM
THE NOT SO MERRY-MIX-UP
HEY, HONEY | DREW YOUR KEY
WHERE IS CLEM GRAVER?

| JUST SHOT THE MAN | LOVE
THE LIE THAT SHOOK THE MACHINE (]

Oo0000

YOU CRAZY OR SOMETHING? oO
LAST KNOWN JOB—BUTCHER oO
THE BATMAN'S UNWILLING HAREM [J
BRAINS BEATS BULLETS oO
IS INNOCENCE ENOUGH? oO

We'd appreciate it if you'd also
take a minute to vote on the features
we've printed. The titles are printed
below. Just check off the three you
liked the most. -

STUNT MAN

FRONT PAGE CASE BOOK
MAN AROUND THE CAMPFIRE
THE CLEANUP SPOT
HEADQUARTERS LINEUP

THE BLOTTER

STRICTLY STAG

BORROWED TRAGEDY

THE HUMAN TOUCH

onooooo0o0ogo

Fill in your name and address be-
low and mail your ballot to: Dell

HQ, Box 125, Murray Hill Station,

New York 16, N. Y.

Mr.
NID Es vs 0-12 vibe wi nwe ee eaihs 14 80s
Miss (first name) (last name)
Address ................ oe
(number and street)
I eee Stote........
Occupation.......... ot BO. i.

g
{If housewife, give husband's occupation)

city of Laon
tier took one
know her!”
Paris firm, t!
by regularly
taking the tr
been around

In a bistro
the barmaid-
icemen from
knew the gir
fire from It
about beet-!
come up fror
was a beauti
scrubbed, an
wearing wor
in at the bar
can GIs.

The last ti
ago—she hac
Frenchmen, :
barmaid had
Silvana had «
she was doin;
get her some
up beets but
with him righ
to the ladies’
one point th:
ness! Stop it
her.” To whi
this—I know

Silvana lef
16 days ago
since.

In a Laon
Bernard had
two weeks.
perhaps due
pleasure. The
fied her fron
that she like
Rolande was
Laon hospita

Out-of-tow
in. Husbands
wives, daugh
mediately for
elsewhere.

One morni
discovery of
Matthieu fro
France.

“Your wor
cheerfully as<
trying to ide
nized her fro:
in and he id

Odette, the
away from
hadn’t been

Two days
the papers, a
two press ph
tective bureai

“I’m Odett
Press photog
“Nobody cut
prove it to

With an i:
pulled a zippe


EE ne

lidn’t remember.
z for money? I
job as a truck-

Tuesday,” Hunt
oming. I’ve been

orovingly at his
aouth.

, ” he said. “Ty
herning.”
“T had a few

o bed right after
{e mentioned the
that night, and
an ask him.”
Harris asked.
‘ednesday; men-
ad a few drinks;
television; drank

he $100,” Harris

sscribed a day of
day night in de-

t .. .” Harris

ver a thing about
’ he insisted: “I
s or what I did

lay oO"? ae

sai
more cigars, but
Friday night was
thing. Hunt was

th Cochill. “He
very night last
t of the murder.
+ a thing about
veather. He’s ly-
e was. He would
. It woke every-
ain in the morn-
rsday, Hunt was
yen suddenly re-

said. He said she
around the tav-

iey went into a

and stayed until
but Maxine was
: woman. He de-
and slender.

ind talked to the
nd said no Frank

“ight. He got the

: nightclerk was
unt, and said he
friday night with
1 out a name on
what he signed.”
me in?” Harris

“T couldn’t say,”
and work until six
uring that time.”
he couldn’t say
n came in before

iat night through

al ied by
f ] [unt on

was Hunt’s com-

panion that night. “You mean the big hero?
I know the guy. Sure, I was with -him.”

“What time did you two get together?”
Harris asked.” ~~

“T don’t remember the time.”

“Tt’s important that you have some idea,”
Harris stressed. “Think hard.”

The blonde said she had been drinking. “All

I know is, we were in that room a long time,”

she said.

“Frank said you checked in about 10:30.”

“That could be right,” she said.

Harris looked at the other officers in the
room. It had been his hunch and they were
letting him play it out. None of them had any
suggestions. ,

The other officers told Harris they were
sorry his hunch didn’t pan out. “Think we
ought to let him go now ?” one of the detec-
tives asked.

“Don’t let him go until I’ve talked to him
again,” Harris said.

“You haven’t got a thing on him,” Harris
was told. “Not a thing. Just because he re-
fused to take a lie detector test. Most ex-cons
are afraid of that. They’re afraid you might
ask them about some other things. You can’t
make him take it. We have to turn him loose.”

Harris: mashed out his cigar. “I’ve got one
more card,” he said. “Just keep him here un-
til after breakfast. Wouldn’t be right to turn
him loose on the streets now anyway.”

Harris got a few hours’ sleep, and was back
at headquarters at 8 a.m. to play his card.
Hunt was brought in from the jail to the
homicide office. He didn’t know it, but if he

survived this interview he would walk out a |

free man.

Harris had just started on a fresh cigar.

“Got some bad news for you, Frank,” he
said. “We found Maxine. She sak she hasn’t
seen you in weeks.”

Anger flashed in Hunt’s fade. “Why that
tramp. I tell you we were together Friday
night.”

“It’s just- your word against hers,” Harris
said. “If you could prove you were with her
Friday night, then we’d have to let you go.
Now if you’d want to take a lie detector test,
so we could .. .”

“Sure, I'll take one,” Hunt blurted. “I'll
show you I was with her.”

In a few minutes the police technician had
the polygraph in the room and made the
necessary adjustments, tying the connections
to Frank Hunt.

Harris asked the questions. First, they were;

about Hunt and Maxine, and the ‘detector in- ‘
dicated Hunt was ‘telling the truth when he
said he was with her Friday night.

With the suspect relaxed and off guard, Har-
ris then fired in some questions about Florence
Helka’s death. The indicator skidded all over
the score sheet as Hunt denied any connection
with the. crime. Again and again the incrimi-
nating questions were asked. Again and again
the denials. Again and again the machine in-
dicated lying.

The rest was: easy. Wsets had something
solid to work with, and after he had showed
Frank Hunt how he had flunked the lie de-
tector test, Hunt broke down and admitted
the rape-slaying of the 72-year-old widow.

He said he was drinking in .a tavern, ran
short of money, .and remembered Mrs. Helka

as a recluse-who was believed: to have money . :

around. He said he broke the window-to get
into the house, went into the bedroom, pulled
down the‘shade and turned on the “ee ‘He
said Mrs. Helka was asleep.
Het said he went through the drawers in
the room, and then found the metal mon-
ey box under the bed. He said he forced it
open and took $230, leaving $55 to. throw
police off the track.

He said the widow woke up screaming while
he was in the room and he hit her in the face
with his fists, then criminally assaulted her.
After he left the house he met the blonde. and
they went to the hotel.’

Michigan has no capital punishment, but
Frank Hunt seemed ‘more concerned about go-
ing to prison than most criminals. He told
Harris about how he had aided prison author-
ities when the governor was attacked at Mar-
quette. He asked if. he could serve his time
in the Detroit House of Correction.

“If they send me to Marquette, or. Jackson,

it will be like placing a canary in a cat's cage,”
Hunt said.
“That'll be up to the judge,” Harris said.
Hunt was charged with first degree murder
in Recorder’s Court. At this writing - is
awaiting action on the charge.

Eprror’s Note: The names Arno Heiden and
Felix Durando are not the actual names of
the persons who were in fact participants in
the incidents described in this article. The
names are used to avoid embarrassment to
these innocent persons.

Don’t Put Me in With Him

continued from page 25.

to Manhattan. Edwards maintained the same
sullen silence that had marked him since his
arrest early that morning. And Connors cén-
tinued to plead for a cell apart from his erst-
while buddy. “Remember, now, remember.
Don’t put. us together. He’ll kill me.”

Police couldn’t work up much enthusiasm
about preserving the sniveling hoodlum’s wel-
fare, but the solution to this case, and possibly
others in Pennsylvania and Virginia hinged on
keeping the quaking Connors alive and well.
He was locked up in the station on West 135th
Street and Edwards was kept in a cell in the
West 100th Street station. Both were to appear
in the police lineup in felony court on the
next day, Wednesday, July 7.

AERC SITET TT

_ It was an angry public that followed the
stories of the confession and the unsuccessful
body hunt in the papers that day and the.
next. Headlines read “Hunt Angler’s Body in
$1 Murder,” and next to this the almost in-
credible pronouncement: “Killers May Beat
Chair!” °

“But why? How?” bewildered citizens were
asking. “They’ve got a confession, they’ve
found the place where it happened . . . the
fishing pole, the watch, all those‘ bloodstains.
And that poor man’s wife’. . . the baby, the
new house. They know he’s dead i
killed .

And back came the legal, but highly unsatis-

: Is
oy nt

factory reply. “There has to be a body.”

NIGHTS AT HOME!
LL.B. DEGREE
See reseeeerr pa

cost, onay

oot. ea argon re

LA

MY GRAY HAIR IS RATURAL-
LOOKING AGAIN says
JAN. GARBER,

idol ef the Airlanes

easy to use—doesn't
look ‘he ee stl 4 ad . TOP

YOU LOOK YEARS YOUNGER
has been a favorite with

chined, Of regular

res age fans 4
Face as is +

\eyeeeiad
Gash orders
ONITED vy $s. re Dept. ia Chicage 20.

Shrinks Hemorrhoids
New Way Without Surgery

Science Finds Healing Substance That
Relieves Pain— Shrinks Hemorrhoids
Pai the first time science has found a
ew healing substance with the astonishing
ability to shrink hemorrhoids and to stop
bleeding—without surgery.
In case after case, pain was relieved
pod fal And, while gently relieving pain,
reduction (shrinkage) took place.
Most amazing of all— results were so
thorough that sufferers made astonishing
statements like “Piles have ceased to be a

new healing substance

Bie; wae —thscovery of a pn ee scape
institute

sy this new healing substance is offered

in ointment form under the name of

Preparation H.* Ask for it at all drug stores

—money back guarantee. Trade Mark

“WORK HOME OR TRAVEL “
B DETECTIVE Particulars FREE §j

Write GEORGE D. G. WAGNER
a
a 125 West 86th St., New York ky

NOME sins od gasinvins vondee ge pedis wtin cet i

; bag gp


™

10 got his
3 of nem-
the bottle

ay FRONT
2 second-
ter, Mrs.
1, Tenn,
cial after
t he was
unsel. At
signed a
other to

aA money |

to serve
d, under
ir parole

carrying
on two
German
’, nearly
lis Gun,
Privates
elberger,
e courts-
of Paul
and Lo-.
vie pro-
th Vig-
fined to
« Leaven-
inal ap~

, arrested
~ 4ying of
ct James
ky if he

Man
AGE,
") st 20

Sh Pee Bn ee

reas

minutes to make his wished-for piece of
luck a reality, decide that Ellisor must
die in the electric chair. Crosby was shot
and killed and a second patrolman wound-
ed when they stopped Ellisor’s speeding
car. Ellisor, captured three days later by
a posse, couldn’t tell why he killed Crosby
and. at the trial based his defense on a
plea of insanity.

ROLLIE M. LASTER, 21, first of six
convicts to be tried for the murder of
Walter Lee Donnell during the prison riot
at the Missouri State Penitentiary at Jef-
ferson City, has been found guilty and
sentenced to die in the state gas chamber.
(Death Of a Stoolie, January FRONT PAGE,

- 1955) The chief piece of evidence in the

four day trial was the confession Laster
allegedly made shortly after the riot, and
later claimed was made ‘under duress:
The state charged that Laster confessed
“because he was proud of himself and

wanted his act known.” When the verdict’

was read, Laster jumped to his feet. “I’m
‘not guilty,” he said. “I’m getting a bum
Tap right into the gas chamber. I didn’t
-do it and I don’t. know who did.” Said
Laster’s father, “I know he did not do it,
They just want to make an example of
him to the other prisoners,” |: :

A SECOND DEGREE murder indict-

"ment has been returned against 17-year-

old Fred Spears for the slaying of his
sister, Patricia. (Boiling Point, April
FRONT PAGE, 1955) Fred made a full coh-
“fession after viewing his sister’s body in a
funeral home. A second degree murder in-
dictment signifies that the Bucyrus, O.,
‘grand jury was convinced the killing was
not premeditated, carries with it a pos-

_ sible life term.

VIRGINIA STYLE—For the brutal
beach slaying of Howard Englander, 29-
year-old aircraft mechanic, Ernest Lee

ded

Edwards, 24, has ‘been found guilty of
first degree murder by an all male jury

-in Brooklyn. (Don’t Put Me In With

Him, October FRONT PAGE, 1954) When

Edwards and his alleged accomplice,
Richard P. Connors, also 24, were picked
up, Connors told police that: they came

upon Englander while he was fishing off a -

lonely Brooklyn beach, claimed that Ed-
wards struck him over the head with a
lead pipe in a demonstration of “how we
kill Virginia style,” then trussed up his
body, dumped it in the ocean. The profits
were $1 from Englander’s wallet and his
automobile which was parked nearby. Con-
nors, who will have to stand trial at a
later date, was chief witness against Ed-
wards. Instructed by Judge Samuel S.
Leibowitz to return an acquittal verdict
for Edwards if they disbelieved any es-
sential part of Connors’ story, the jury
returned the verdict of guilty with no
recommendation for mercy, making a

death sentence mandatory.

IF ONLY SHE HADN’T SCREAMED
—Jean Liger, 28-year-old Frenchman én
trial for the murder of his English mis-
tress, blonde Jackie Richardson, 25, was
found guilty by a court in Versailles,
France, and sentenced to serve seven years
in prison. (Too Much Lovin’, June FRONT
PAGE, 1952) Seven months after her

death, Jackie’s body was unearthed by °

workman on a large French estate, once
the rendezvous of Madame DuBarry.
Calm after three years’ imprisonment,
Liger told of a quarrel in which Jackie had
fallen on the ground. “What was so hor-
rible,” he told the court, “was the sound
of her skull as she struck a stone. I'll
remember that all my life. If only she
hadn’t screamed she would be alive to-
day. I was seized by anger, I could not
control myself, I never knew that I was
strangling her.” Liger said he then buried
her and hid her personal belongings.

“SPECIAL

uses new

Leak-proof,

miracle dry ink.
Writes smoothly...
starts instantly...
no smears ... no spots.

INTRODUCTORY OFFER! Beautiful precision

made 3 piece pen set with engraving

...a°5 value...YOURS for ONLY *1

This is a beautiful ball-point pen and pencil set... precision made of
lustrous black plastic with gold-toned metal barrels and sure-grip
pocket clips; time-tested gold-plated miracle movements that last a
life time... The perfect all-occasion gift for family and friends.
This terrific set consists of retractable push-button
ball-point pen .. . matching fountain pen with “broad
and narrow” precision-ground, gold-plated tip...

and automatic pencil that propels and repels
standard size lead. All three with your name
engraved in gold. Enclose cash, check or money
order. We pay postage. Sorry, no C.0.D.
MAY WE QUOTE ON QUANTITY ORDERS
FOR BUSINESS PURPOSES

PRINT AND MAIL TO THE FLAMINGO PEN CO.
BOX 641, MIAMI BEACH, FLORIDA DEPT.D-1
PRINT NAME TO BE ENGRAVED CLEARLY.
NAME
ADDRESS
CiY___ ZONE__STATE__


ee ener ia

aan lil titi

cause: he “killed her on the spur of the
moment.” Circuit Judge Richard W. Nebel,
who heard the trial without a jury, told
Lundberg: ‘‘You will have the rest of your
life to live with the memory of the nature
of this crime.”

Joseph Johnson, the North Carolina con-
vict who admitted to the year-old strangling
of Isabel Hussey, a pretty blonde Robbins,
N. C., teenager (Clean Forgot I Killed
Her, July Front Pace, 1956), has been

allowed to plead guilty to second-degree
murder and has been given an 18-to-20-year
prison sentence to run consecutively with
the eight-to-nine-year term he is now serv-
ing for highway robbery. The girl’s body
was found on the second floor of an aban-
doned ramshackle farmhouse near Ashe-
boro. A man’s leather belt and handker-
chief were knotted tightly around her neck.
She was fully clothed and there was no
indication that rape had been attempted.
The body was identified a few days later,
but for over a year, the case went un-
solved. Then detectives working on the
case decided to question criminals con-
victed after the slaying and Johnson, who
has a 16-year record of crime, including
sexual offenses, finally admitted the slay-
ing. He told police that he had picked up
Isabel and offered her a lift home and that
they drank and quarreled about money.
He said he remembered fighting with her;
that he did not remember the actual kill-
ing—only that he had done a terrible thing.
The state’s acceptance of his plea of guilty
to second-degree murder saved Johnson
from a possible death sentence.

Ernest Lee Edwards, 24,-who bludgeoned
a Brooklyn man over the head, and pushed
him into Jamaica Bay to drown (Don’t Put

es

Me in With Him, October Front Pace,
1954) died in the electric chair at Sing Sing,
N. Y., prison. Edwards was apprehended
when he and a companion were picked up
on a stolen car charge. The companion told
police about the murder—that Edwards
had sneaked up behind Howard Englander
who was fishing from a jetty, bludgeoned
him over the head with a piece of pipe and
when he found only one dollar in England-
er’s wallet, shoved him, unconscious, into
the water. Englander’s body was fished out
of the water several days later and Edwards .
was convicted on testimony of his one-
time companion who turned state’s evidence.

Ronnie Rittger, the 17-year-old San
Quentin prison baby whose assault on an-
other prisoner placed him in jeopardy of
capital punishment (Prison Baby ... What
Now? August FRONT PAGE, 1956) has been
allowed to plead guilty to a lesser charge
and has been sentenced to serve an addi-
tional one-year term to run concurrently |
with the four life terms he is already serv-
ing. Rittger, who has been in trouble
since the age of four and has confounded
penologists and psychiatrists alike by his
pathological outbursts of agression, ad-
mitted that he struck another prisoner over
the head with a seven-pound wrecking bar
in an attempt to kill him. The prisoner
recovered, but Rittger could have been
prosecuted under a California law that pro-
vides an automatic life sentence for lifers
who are convicted of premeditated assault.
But Rittger, because he is serving several
lesser terms along with the four life sen-
tences, was allowed to plead guilty to a
section of the law which deals with pris-
oners serving less that life sentences. The
sentence was arrived at without benefit of
a jury trial. Warden Marley O. Teets, of
San Quentin has promised that special
precautions will be taken to “protect Ritt-
ger from himself.”

James P. Taylor, 31, who pleaded guilty
to the murder and kidnaping of Thief
River Falls, Miss., bank cashier Kenneth
Lindbergh, has been sentenced to a life
sentence and two ten-year sentences to run
consecutively (Stranger on the Plane,
April FRONT PAGE, 1956). Because Taylor
had pleaded guilty to the charges before a
judge sitting without a jury, he was spared
a possible death sentence as a death sen-
tence could only have been imposed upon
recommendation of a jury. Taylor kid-
naped Lindbergh from his home, forced
him to drive to the bank where he was
employed and open the vault. He forced
Lindbergh to accompany him while he
made ‘his getaway and later killed him and
hid his body near Clear Lake, Minn. Tay-
lor was captured several weeks later in
Joplin, Mo. At the sentencing, Taylor
read a four-page letter which he had writ-
ten to the court. In it he said that during
the eight hours he and Lindbergh were
together, he came to know him as a fine
man and that he was in no way connected
with the bank robbery. “Mr. Lindbergh
died a hero. I sincerely wish that it were
he who had survived and not myself,”

LAW TRAINING

FOR BUSINESS |
(In spare time at home)
Earn LL.B. Degree

Thousands of men and women who never

intend to practice Law are studying it in
spare time at home as an aid to business
advancement.

Today Law is involved in practically every
business decision. In many lines of work it is
almost indispensable. Law training develops
keen, clear, quick, correct and decisive
thinking.

You can study LaSalle’s American Law
and Procedure right in the privacy of your
own home—progressing as rapidly as your
time and ability permit. For nearly 50 years
we have helped over 1,350,000 ambitious
people get ahead in the business world.

A MOST UNUSUAL LAW LIBRARY

This training includes the 14-volume LaSalle
Law Library—AMERICAN LAW AND
PROCEDURE—that is the basis of all our
instruction service. This library has been
compiled by leaders in the field of Law. It
covers the whole field in an orderly and
simple manner that is easy to learn and
understand. Collateral reading and printed
lectures, furnished at regular intervals, sup-
plement the texts. Law instructors personally
supervise your program. Under the LaSalle
method you learn by actually solving legal
problems—not just memorizing rules.

WRITE FOR TWO FREE BOOKS

Send the coupon below TODAY and find
out how you can qualify for the many fine
openings available to the law-trained man.
In our FREE books “Law Training for
Leadership’”’ and “‘Evidence”’ you will find
answers to your questions about the study
of Law and the LaSalle method.

— MAIL COUPON TODAY—

LA SALLE EXTENSION UNIVERSITY

A Correspondence Institution
417 S$. Dearborn St. Dept. 1048L Chicago 5, ILL.

Please send me, FREE,"*Law Training for Leadership”
and “Evidence.”

Taylor stated. Federal Judge Gunnar Nord- NGG, .ccccccccccvecccccecccscccccsecccccccece

bye imposed the sentences with the com- re ih, ERR EERE eT reer

ment that Taylor “should never again be eee

permitted his freedom outside prison walls.” | City... ......cccccescceeeees Zone.... State
a .


ALL he had: to do to make his
greatest desire come true was to
pull the trigger. But, although this
was. the moment he had been wait-
ing for, the gun in Harold
Elling’s hand felt heavy and un-
manageable. His hands were sweat-
ing and his heart beat wildly.

There was really nothing for
him to worry about. His murder
plan had been carefully thought
out and there were no slip-ups.
Over and above this sudden fear,
Harold Elling felt pleased with
himself. His narrow face, delicate
in a feminine way, registered self-
approval and satisfaction. For
many months now he had want-
ed to kill, to prove himself some-
thing more than the small-time
crook the cops took him for. He
was a big man, he told himself, a
man to be reckoned with. Wasn’t

he the best dancer in Harlem?
The girls fought with each other to
dance with him — _ whoever
danced with him was sure to win
a prize. But the cops didn’t care
about that.

They would soon care about him.
Alone with the man he was about
to kill, Elling peered through the
darkness surrounding the lonely
country road outside of Windsor,
New York. At twenty he already
had a life of crime behind him. He
was caught first when he was
fifteen and sent to the New York
Vocational Institute at West
Coxsackie, a reform school for
juveniles. He was out less than
three years when, charged with the
theft of the postmaster’s car in
Lemhi County, he did time in the
Idaho penitentiary.

Yet his features had not yet

Harold Elling (right) whose nemesis was kissing a girl too hard.

(Below) Officers searching ground where Harold burned evidence.


oii . wc sc cea a Re Byer mene Sey

SENSATIONAL
sour DIAMOND
Wedding Ri NG
and

extra charge ex-
quisite weddin

ring set with eigh'

simulated dia-
monds matching in
fire and brilliance
the beautiful soli-

10 DAYS TRIAL
SEND NO MONEY. War
conditions make supply
limited. Write today. d

ress
We ship both rings in lovely iy box immediately and yo
make just 2 easy payments 0! $2 each, total onl

trust you. No red tape as you make 1st payment
man on arrival then balance any time within 60 days, Money
back guarantee. Act now.

EMPIRE DIAMOND CO., Dept, 1-29, Jefferson, lowa

WAKE UP YOUR
LIVER BILE —

Without Calomel—And You'll Jump Out
of Bed in the Morning Rarin’ to Go

The liver should pour 2 pints of bile juice into
your bowels every day. If this bile is not flowing
freely, your food may not digest. It may just de-
cay in the bowels. Then gas bloats up your stom-
ach. You get constipated, You feel sour, sunk and
the world looks punk.

It takes those good, old Carter’s Little Liver
Pills to get these 2 pints of bile flowing freely to
make you feel “up and up.” Get a package today.
Take as directed. Effective in making bile flow free-
ly. Ask for Carter’s Little Liver Pills. 10¢ and 25¢,

OLD LEG TROUBLE

Easy to use Viscose Home Method heals.
many old leg sores caused by leg conges-+
tion, varicose veins, swollen legs and in-
juries or no cost for trial if it fails to show
results in 10 days. Describe the cause
of your trouble and get a FREE BOOK

F. D. VISCOSE METHOD COMPANY

140 N. Dearborn Street, Chicago, lilinois

CONSTIPATION
And Colon Troubles—FREE BOOK

If afflicted with Colon and Rectal troubles,
or Stomach conditions, write today for
large 122-page FREE BOOK. McCleary
Clinic, D604 Elms Blvd, Excelsior
Springs, Mo.

PICTURE
RIN G 48's Made from

ais: Ring—made f: any photo. pL Any Photo
Kimnple fi only 4sosend No Money! Mail photo web or victure!
8 ‘or ring size. Pay pos' on -
pefiand tinted locextra, Photo returne Make manny! SEND NO
Show ring—take orders. Money back enarantee. Order Mt) [ad
now. PICTURE RING CO., Dept.T102, Cincinnati, 0.

‘BONDS: STAMPS |
Free for Asthma

During Summer.

If you suffer with those terrible attacks of Asthma
when it is hot and sultry; if heat, dust and general
mugginess make you wheeze and choke «as 1f each
gasp for breath was the very last; if restful sleep is
impossible because of the struggle to breathe; if you
feel the disease is slowly wearing your life away,
don’t fail to send at once to the Frontier Asthma Co.
for a free trial of a remarkable method. No matter
where you live or whether you have any faith in any
remedy under the Sun, send for this free trial. If
you have suffered for a life-time and tried everything
you could learn of without relief, even if you are
utterly discouraged, do not abandon hope but send
today for this free trial. It will cost you nothing.
Address

Frontier Asthma Co. 188-J Frontier Bldg.
462 Niagara St., Buffalo, N. Y¥.

58

on Oct. 9 and left a pistol, saying, “Johnny
bender and I bumped off a guy up near

- Binghamton, We took the sucker’s car.

I just ditched Bender and I’m heading
west. Keep this gun for me. I don’t want
the cops to get it.”

But the cops did get it—and promptly.
Maynard, telephoning Binghamton,
learned the slug and shell had been found.

Edward Chase was arrested as a
material witness-in the murder of Paul
Skeritza and removed to the Hawthorne
barracks in state police custody. The two
suspected murderers were still at large.

But not for long. That same night, in
Rochester, Detective Lambiase, shadow-
ing Bender’s home, saw a_ bedraggled
youth enter. Bender, just returning from
New York City by bus, was placed under
arrest. é

At Rochester headquarters, questioned
by Lambiase in the Skaritza murder, he
made a full confession of the crime, stat-
in; that he had aided Harold Elling in
robbing the musician after they had hitch-
hiked a ride in the latter’s car, but that
Elling: had shot Skaritza in cold blood
after finding only $3 on the victim.

Brought to Windsor on Oct. 21, both
youths were arraigned before Justice of
the Peace A. E. Cady and held, Bender
without bail on a charge of first degree
murder, Chase in $20,000 as a material
witness. i

But Harold Joseph Elling, the youth
accused as the actual killer, whose resem-
blance to a confessed bandit had suc-
ceeded in tipping over a difficult holdup
case, was still at liberty.

Maynard and O’Hanley prepared state
police. fliers bearing his picture and
description for nationwide circulation,
following a telegraphed alarm to all police
departments. The fliers described Elling
as an “automobile thief, robber. and
killer.”

District Attorney Daniel J. McAvoy,
receiving the complete evidence and con-
fessions in both the Skaritza murder and
the Vestal holdup, announced he would go

before the Broome county grand jury
during the.week of Nov. 3 and ask indict-
ments in both cases. __

He planned to seek true bills against
Elling and Bender in the murder case
and Stuart, Deonic and Labosky in the
holdup.

Then on Sunday, Nov: 2, two Salt Lake
City, ‘Utah, detectives, B. O. Hoagland
and T. B. Burbridge, with a New York
state police flier in their possession, ran

.into Harold Joseph Elling on a down-

town street. They arrested him at once.

Hustled to headquarters and ques-
tioned, Elling admitted the callous slay-
ing of Paul Skaritza. The youth said he
was enraged upon finding only $3 in the
Juusician’s wallet.

“IT knocked him down, put the gun
against his head and pulled the trigger,”
the youth coldly confessed.

He waived extradition. Maynard,
Mahoney and Sergt. J. J. Quinn of the
state police went to Utah and returned the
killer to Binghamton.

Stuart, on a plea of guilty, drew a
sentence of from five to ten years for the
diner holdup in Vestal. His accomplices,
Labosky and Deonic, pleading guilty as
accessories, drew one year each.

On Mar. 14, 1942 Harold Joseph Elling
and John W. Bender were found guilty
of first degree murder in the callous slay-
ing of Paul Skaritza. The jury recom-
mended the death penalty for Elling, the
triggerman, and life imprisonment for his
confederate.

The two crimes had absolutely no con-
nection save the accidental likeness of the
principals. But this was so remarkable
that the bizarre case of the slayer’s double
which at first seemed to lead the investi-
gation into hopeless confusion, yet in the
end resulted in a solution of both crimes,
has been set down as one of the most
unusual in New York police records.

(In order to protect the identity of persons not
criminally involved in the case the names Stan
Cermak and Edward Chase are not real but
fictitious. —Ed.)

Dawn Death of the Game-Cock Trainer

[Continued from page 43]

After a moment’s silence, Garstang
asked: “Did your husband have any
visitors yesterday?”

“IT don’t know,” Mrs. Terror replied.
“I went to Jeff City to the doctor’s. I
left early_yesterday morning. Leo took
me to the bus station and I came back
last night with Mr. and Mrs. Brown.”

Garstang glanced up from his notes.
“Did your husband appear normal when
you returned, or was he upset, dis-
traught?”

The widow stated that her husband
seemed his usual, normal self when she
returned. He hadn’t mentioned any visi-
tors. “He fixed a fish supper for us. But
he was restless after we went to bed.
He rolled and tossed around and didn’t
fall asleep until late.”

Clem Brown, like all the others, could
not offer a solution to the enigma. He
was shocked to learn that the officers
suspected murder. But he could not men-
tion a single person who might have held
a grudge against his friend. He told
Garstang that the Terror family had
lived at Loose Creek for the past six
months. During that short time the tall,
‘gaunt farmer had won the friendship of
all with whom he became acquainted.

He was well known as a hunter, being a
crack shot, and a game-cock fancier.

The body was released to an under-
taker who supervised its removal to the
county seat at Linn, At the prosecutor’s
request, Dr. Wildman performed an im-
mediate autopsy upon the body. He soon
determined that the bullet fired into the
chest had glanced off a rib, gone through
the right lung, broken the backbone,
severed the spinal cord and lodged just
under the skin in the back.

The prosecutor next drew a floor plan
of the murder room. There was only one
door, leading into the kitchen. There were
two windows, one facing the boxed in
front.room, one facing the side yard. The
young prosecutor examined the fasten-
ings on the windows carefully. The locks
were rusted together, as if the windows
had not been opened for quite some time.

He remarked to the deputy sheriff:
“The killer didn’t get in through the
windows.”

Roux replied: “Then he had to come
through the kitchen door. Mrs. Terror
said she was-in the kitchen trying to light
the lamp when she heard the second
shot.”

. Garstang nodded. “But she had not yet

ES RE

sportsca:
fights. |
To Wat
words ar
up boxe:
boxing, :

"How
timely f
this ente

Don't

10°

e recognized

illery picture
; lips pursed.
ibborn-faced,

n Allen.”

Herman Al-
se for aston-
erant worker
3 on varying
ad been con-
ter accusing
1 clergyman,
i's first wife,
own Hodges

of a 20-year
paroled.
continued,
that, of the
rea, Herman

Id his chief,
be he’s even
>» him under
rn”?

spatched into
nithfield and
were put on

| that he had
automobile,
ving on the

it close to a
dly by tele-

“We’re com-

va

the glinting
away from
Rose drove
veway, their
ts which led
| garage.
‘could see a
The dep-
ier turned.
smiling.
riff. What’s

asked Whit-

He’s resting
norning and
iple of days.
7 Caw.”

en into town

| and shook
ened?”

ge. Whitley
was almost
<. A double-
in a gunny
er.

se?” Rose’s

fe’s taking a

all bedroom
cot, snoring
of Herman

ame,

erman Allen
inding posi-
velled in his

Laine gai

eyes as he saw the formidable figures of
the officers blocking the door. His voice
was thick and heavy as he slumped back
to the couch. ‘

“Don’t worry. I won’t pull nothing, I
know what you're here for—and I’m glad
I did it.”

“Then you admit,” said Whitley quietly,
“that you killed Cap Raynor, Grady Lee
and your wife, Ruth Allen?”

“That’s right,” said Herman Allen.

Rushed to the Banner township jail in
Smithfield, Allen, displaying absolutely
no emotion, dictated a long, winding con-
fession, rife with viciousness.

“T did it,” he snapped, “because Cap
Raynor and my wife were having illicit re-
lations and ‘she was flaunting it at me. I
know that for a fact.”

“But what about Grady Lee?” asked
Rose.

“Oh, him!” snarled Allen, an obscene
oath ripping from his lips. “Grady was
nothing but a two-bit chiseler. He hated

my guts so he made his own sister cheap.
He helped Cap Raynor make dates. So I
blasted them all. It’s a good thing you
got me or I’d blast some more tough-
talking people around here.

“Serves them right,” he said airily.

However, Solicitor Claude Canaday,
state prosecutor, thought otherwise and
he told a Johnston county jury on Feb.
-11, 1942, that Herman Allen was a “mad

_dog” and should be put to death in the.
» gas chamber. ;

Canaday insisted the murders were pre-
meditated and asked for the death pen-
alty. The trial dragged four days before
Judge H. A. Johnson instructed the jury.

For 33 hours Herman Allen’s fate re-
mained in the balance. Then, on. Feb. 16,
1942, he was found guilty of first degree
murder and sentenced to die on March 27.

(To protect the identity of an innocent man the
name Jack Starkey as used in this story ts
fictitions.—Ed.)

Bizarre Case of the Slayer’s Double

© [Continued from page 39]

murderer, apparently, but he gets away.
However, he leads us back to the holdup
gang through the coincidence of two guys
who look alike.”

Maynard reached for the phone and
called the BCI laboratory in Troy. As
the conversation progressed his face
lighted up. :

Swinging around to O’Hanley, the
inspector said, “They’ve got a line on the
guy! It took them three days to bring out
the latents from that steering wheel but
they’ve finally done it.

“They’ve checked his prints against the
files. He’s Harold Joseph Elling, twenty
years old, a parolee from Coxackie. His
home is in Rochester.” Maynard mapped
the program quickly. “We'll run over to
Coxackie, get a picture, and a full set.of
prints and all the information we can
about this Elling.

“Then we'll notify Rochester to look for
him there. We should be able to find out
whether he was in Binghamton or the
vicinity on the night Skaritza was killed.”

Coxackie is a state vocational institu-
tion above Catskill. On the way over
Maynard told O’Hanley, “Remember
those footprints in the ground at Kirk-
wood; they indicated more than one man
was involved in the killing. We'll check all
Elling’s associates at the reform school.
Maybe one of his cronies was hooked up
in this with him.”

The officials at Coxackie were able to
tell them plenty about Harold Elling.

His record went back ten years. As an
incorrigible child Elling was continually
in trouble with the law. His sentenge in
Coxackie had to do with the borrowing of
a car withott permission. However,
eligible for parole at the age of 20, he had
been turned loose only two months before
the Skaritza crime.

The only close companion Elling had
in the Coxackie school was a youth named
Edward Chase of New York City.

Armed with Elling’s picture, finger-
prints, description and home address,
Maynard and O’Hanley telegraphed
Rochester to ascertain the youth’s where-
abouts. In that city Detective Lieut. Emil
Lambiase made a quick check and relayed
some important information back to
Binghamton.

Elling, according to the upstate detec-

tive, had left Rochester on Oct. 5 with a
youth named John. Bender, 20, to visit
some relatives of Elling’s in Binghamton.

“That places them here about the time
of the crime,” Maynard told O’Hanley.

He sent a wire to the New York police
to seek out Ed Chase at his home. In a
few hours a reply stated that Chase had

“been picked up, taken to headquarters and

questioned. He-denied the crime. 4

“Hold him for our arrival,” Maynard
wired the New: York police.

“What's the idea?” O’Hanley asked.

Maynard shrugged. “I’ve a hunch. Re-
member, that car at Croton was headed
away from New York. There’s a good
chance Elling and Bender may have taken
Chase home, dropped him off and were
returning upstate when Moore came
across the car.”

“But Elling was alone in the machine.”

“That’s right. Then maybe Bender
stayed on with Chase.”

Seek Bullet

HE detectives took the first train for
New York, arriving there Friday
night, Oct... 17.

Meanwhile, the autopsy report showed
that Paul Skaritza had been struck on the
head with a sharp instrument, probably
a gun butt, felled and then shot while he
lay insensible.

“Then it’s a certainty that the bullet
which came out of his temple went into
the ground,” Sheriff Daniels told Corp.
Mahoney and: Trooper McGranaghan.

Equipped with an electrical divining
instrument, a sieve and shovels, officers
from the sheriff’s office and state police,
under the personal supervision of Daniels
and Mahoney, went to the lonely Kirk-
wood road and began seeking the lethal
pellet. :

On Saturday morning they found a
steel-jacketed .32 caliber bullet half a foot
in the earth and a copper shell buried
among some leaves approximately ten
feet away. Pi

At this moment Maynard and O’Hanley
were grilling Chase in the Manhattan
headquarters. Given to understand that
he was suspected in a murder; the youth
made an important admission.

Harold Joseph Elling had visited him

WISHING

A Wont BANISH Loose
A vanRurF BUT JERIS
WILL! MASSAGE DAILY

4
é
é
/

with this common-sense

y

pe /

antiseptic hair tonic f
é

é

ERIS:

FOR LOOSE DANDRUFF

At All Drug Stores and Barber Shops A

3 in 1 RADIO TUNER

Only $1.00 Postpaid
a UN ddsnnnnesttsnereaneny 1, Aerial

aero

2.Antenna Tuner
3.Wave Trap

=

Eliminates hums, clicks, static caused by electrical appli-
ances, rain, wind, ete. Replaces old, ineffective outside
aerials. Move your radio anywhere. The 3 in 1 improves

the reception of weak stations, separates interfering sta-
tions, gives you greater volume and distance. Uses no power,
lasts life of radio, Also works on battery radios. Takes
minute to connect. 5 DAY FREE TRIAL. SEND NO
MONEY. Simply pay Postman $1.00 plus few cents post-
age or we will send postpaid for one dollar bill. Vogue
Eliminator Co., 7759 S$, Halsted, Dept. E-438, Chicago.
AGENTS WANTED.

BIG
PRoriy
¥ s

For You

Sensational Military Style Oxford
makes huge profits for our salesmen.
Smart — sturdy —comfortable—soft as
glove leather. Leads lne of hundreds
fast-selling dress-work-sport shoes
for men and women, Lowest direct
factory prices—biggest commis-
sions. Rush card TODAY for
FREE Sample Outfit. Get your
own shoes wholesale. Reserve
your Territory. Write NOW.

VICTOR SHOE Co.
610 W. Van Buren, Dept. V-33, Chicago, I.

MORE DRAFTSMEN NEEDED in_all
manufacturing and building lines—$30
to $50 a week and UP. Learn quickly

at home in spare time. Selective Em-
ployment Service Write NOW for
FREE Bulletin.

AMERICAN SCHOOL
Dept. DDA90, Drexel & 58th, Chicago

57

es,

By WALLACE SMITH
SkeClaw tw¥coinvATOR FOR
EXCLUSIVE PICTURE DETECTIVE

hardened into that of a criminal.
His childish face, innocent as a
young girl’s, extricated him from
difficult situations with the law and
his sentence was cut down from
five years to six months.

It was during those six months,
however, that he decided to be-
come a murderer. Convicts and
cops alike had treated him with
the disdain reserved for mis-
chievous kids, some even referred
to him as “Girlie.” He’d show
them.

Now was his chance. The man at
whose back Elling’s gun was point-
ed had picked him up in his car
outside of Binghamton. No one had
seen Elling get in. Circumstances
were perfect for a _ successful
murder.

Some months before, Elling and
two friends of his from the re-
form school, had been picked up

Inspector Maynard and his officers examine clothes of Paul Skaritza
(below) victim of the murdering lust of a sex-crazed youth.

by a kindly middleaged man, Max
Purdy, while hitch-hiking. They had
driven with him to Muskogee,
Oklahoma where Purdy was
stopping off for a visit. As he
wanted his car delivered to his
wife in San Bernadino, California,
and he had gotten to like the boys,
Purdy asked if they would be will-
ing to go that far. Not having
anything else to do, the boys
accepted and Purdy gave them each
a note, stating that he had given
them permission to drive his car.
At .Elling’s request, Purdy added
that he was the boy’s uncle.
Purdy’s car was a Mercury eight
town sedan. After they had
delivered the car, Elling kept that
note.

The man in front of Elling, who
had just picked him up, was
driving a Mercury Eight. Here was
the perfect chance to get a car,
some money, and commit the deed

that would test his manhood..

Elling had directed his victim to
drive up an isolated section of the
highway arid then ordered him, at
point of gun, to get out of the
car and walk down the road.

SUDDENLY he was _ overcome

by terror. His, hand was shaking,
his nerve gone. Over and over he
told himself that he wasn’t a sissy
or a coward. Finally he pulled him-
self together and demanded his
victim’s wallet. The terrified man
gave it to him quickly and then
turned around as Elling ordered
him to do,

After several more minutes of
arguing with himself, Elling lifted
his pistol and brought it down on
the man’s head. He began to
scream so Elling hit him again ,
and this time he fell to the ground.
Elling’s fear ebbed away. Confi-
dence returned. He felt refreshed
and strong. Without any more
doubts rushing through his brain
he pulled the trigger of his gun,
aiming at the twisting body lying
at his feet. The body. jerked once,
moaned painfully. Elling pulled the
trigger again. The body lay still.

Then the fear came back to hint.
The revolver seemed to have
grown into his hand, weighting it
down He couldn’t move from the
spot and his delicate face. was
covered with sweat. His stomach
began to retch but in a. few
minutes he felt better, exhilirated.

19


“Settle wilh lim for a nice sum of
ioney,” To added

Henny did't oeateb (he nate tie tary
vice. He grinned at me approvingly.
You got it, Ruth, That’s it. We'll
raloe clown Chas gray) for same sweet
roney.”

I was burning with indignation, with
mime. Every decent instinet in me
as outraged. [never have felt in an
ecasional nightmare the terror that
ime over me as T sat there and lis-
‘ned to Benny’s vile proposition, saw
ie look of desperation and greed in
is dark eyes,

1 was no child. I had heard of such
lings, men who tried to live off wo-
von. But my own husband! Benny
rtel!’ And putting this up to a girl
ke myself, a girl who had worked
onestly to earn her living, who could
ot be promiscuous under any cir-
umstances.

The final veil of disillusionment fell
‘om before my eyes. I saw Benny for
hat he was. The world had a name
x men like him. He had held me by
is wiles, had given me a counterfeit
f love, and now was trying to exploit
1e—me, his wife—was trying to in-
uce me to—

I never have recovered from the dis-
lusionment of that night. I never will
ecover from it as long as I may live.

fHE grin had not left Benny’s face.
' In his mind, evidently, everything
vas set, fixed. Easy money. We’d keep
1e nice apartment. No worry about
joney now. We wouldn’t have to
iove to a slum neighborhood where
the cops” might get a line on Benny.
ure, everything set. I had wanted
senny to desire me. It might have
leased me if he had been even a little
it jealous. Now he wanted to sell me,
ll his wife. We’d get “sweet money”
nd have ourselves a time...

I stood up. I didn’t “dear” him now.

didn’t even call him Benny.

“And you could think up a thing
ike this!” I snapped at him.

Benny was quite calm. “Yeah. Why
iot? We're in a desperate spot, ain’t
‘e? We got to go the limit to get out
f it. What the Hell’s so awful about
a
“It’s blackmail—and worse,” I said.
‘And I won't do it!”

“You won't, huh?” Benny’s voice
vas as hard and brittle as glass. He
hrugged his shoulder. “Okay. But
t's either that—or something worse.”

“What could be worse?” I demanded.
What do you mean?”

“Skip it,” Benny said.

We argued for hours over the hor-
ible proposition. I told Benny there
nust never be any other man in my
ife but him. Strange as it may sound,

still was in love with this man.

“Why, listen! This is a straight busi-
less proposition,’ Benny _ insisted.
‘What the Hell! Here’s a guy that has
nore dough than he needs. Here’s us,
vith less than we need—almost none
it all. All right. We’ll outsmart this
ich heel. It’s duck soup. He’ll pay,
ind pay plenty, to keep his name out
ff scandal. See? That makes the whole
hing safe. We got the old bones loaded
igainst this guy. Do you want me to
set picked up by the cops? You talked
i lot about wanting to help. I thought
vou meant what you said. I still think
70. Well, here’s where you can put
ne over for me, Ruth, and for your-
self, too.”

The way Benny talked, I wondered
vhy he didn’t sell more souvenirs to
ourists. He made terrible things sound
just ordinary. It would be this one
‘ime, he assured me. It might be some
‘ime before we ran into a sweet set-up
like this again. Why not take this guy
icross before someone else did? A
sucker was a sucker. We ought to
squeeze some dough out of him, get
him before he got hit by a taxi or
something and went out of circulation.

We'd have money enough boo bake a
long trip. We could start life over
again dder our reat nanies, fog De
we want to lose cach other, separate?
Wouldn't it be better to get some quick
doy nie doe topeettner, dre an bape?

When he talked like that. did) we
want to lose each other, or did we
want lo be together? 1 found myself
thinking things over. [was astounded
at my own self. Yes, we were in a
desperate spot. We had to get out of
it. Maybe Benny was right, after all.
Just once...

The date was made. Pomet Benny
and our victim in a downtown hotel
and we went to dinner in a near-by
restaurant. Ie had engaged a private
dining-room with a lavishly set table
and plenty of drinks. I tried to turn
on the charm, tried to be as nice as |
could to this rich man—I’ll call him
Frank here—but I was making heavy
going of it. Somehow I felt creepier
about this whole business than if Ben-
ny had suggested murder.

Frank was possibly in his late thir-
ties. He was graying slightly, rather
handsome and_ distinguished-looking.
He wore his dinner clothes well. He
wore diamonds, big ones. There was
no doubt that, as Benny had said, he
was “up in the chips.” I wondered
what kind of business he could be in,
but I didn’t ask him. Much to Benny’s
delight and my nervousness, Frank
began making love to me right from
the start. He was as bold and showy
aman as I ever have met.

He drove us home after dinner.
Benny and I retired without any
comment. Benny thought there was no
more to say, I suppose. And I just
didn’t want to talk about it. I still
believed there’d be some way out. But
it was getting me. I slept very little
that night.

The following day I went out with
Frank again. Also that night, and the
next afternoon, and the next night...
I continued going out with him. He
tossed -money around like a million-
aire. Perhaps he was one. I had dif-
ficulty making him keep his hands off
me. The man was like a gorilla.

Our little apartment was flooded
with flowers. But the place smelled
like a funeral to me, in my mood. He
sent a riding outfit, sports clothes, odd
jackets and coats he had insisted upon
buying. One evening he presented me
with a gorgeous diamond bracelet,
made me take it because Benny—he
knew him as Bob—had told him it was
my birthday. He didn’t fail to tell me
that he’d made a loan of a hundred
dollars to my “brother Bob.” At the
end of a week I was more than ready
to quit.

“Why, the man is wild,” I told Ben-
ny that night when I came in. “His
latest act, believe it or not, was to
propose marriage.”

“That’s great!” my husband said
with enthusiasm. “You know what
that means, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know what it means!” I
snapped back. “It means that I’m not
going through with any more of this.
How I'll ever get out from under it
I don’t know, but I’ll find some way.”

Benny caressed me. “That’s just it,
Sweet,” he said. “The time’s come.
We'll end this business tomorrow
night, right here in the apartment.”

“You mean—” I started.

“Now, what the Hell else could I
mean? Why, we'll be sitting on top,
Ruth. You’re smart. We’re as good as
in the money right now.”

The following night Frank and 1
took a drive after dinner. Then IT sug-
gested that we spend the rest of the
evening in my apartment, and he
jumped at the idea. But when Benny
burst through the living-room door at
the time agreed upon between us, he
failed to find us in the expected com-
promising position. We were playing

comes. bP liaeb beer thidbte to pao Ubough
with the arrangement. T had fought
Wrcuirk off cdb eqecnvinays

"Well so what!” Benny demanded
after Frank had left. “How'd the flop
eon

"What could bo dove’ b cape Ub bas
affections cooled off when we got back
fo the apartment. TH wasn't any foul
of mine, Benny’

But Benny found out the truth the
next day. Just how, IT don’t know, I
couldn't understand — then — why he
should discuss a sister's love affair, as
ib was stupposed to be, with) the man
who wanted to be her sweetheart.

“You lied to me last night,” Benny
said too ome when he came home, “Tt
was you who did the cooling off, not
Frank. You didn’t give him a break.
He still wants you. Now, what the
Hell's the use of all these plans if—”

“Benny!” I pleaded. “I’m your
wife. If you were some man whose
love I didn’t care about, instead of my
own husband, the only man in the
world [ Jove, [I could understand
how—”

“Cut it!’ Benny yelled at me.
“Now get this! I’m in this thing for
a pile o’ dough, and I ain’t going to
lose it. Frank doesn’t want to marry
you. He just wants you for a few
short hours. He’s arranging a little
yachting party down the Potomac for
just you and him.”

“Maybe for him,” I said. “But not
for me.”

Benny’s voice got higher. I never
had seen such rage in his eyes.

“You'll go—see? And like it!”

“But you don’t know what you're
saying,” I sobbed. “You're destroying
our love. You're giving me—selling
me—to another man!”

“What the Hell’s the difference?”
Benny shot back. “I ain’t making no
objections, am 1? I’m the loser, not
you. This guy is just another man.
What’s all this foolishness about?
Hell! It just means—” .

“Stop it!’ I yelled. “Stop it!” I
guess I was getting hysterical. A sick-
ening feeling surged over me. “You're
killing every ounce of love in me. You
can’t force me to do this. Have you
no respectability left?”

“Respectability — hooey!” Benny
snarled. “This means a grand, you
damned fool! And when I can drag
down a grand, I'd lose respectability,
love, anything!”

H, HE admitted it, did he? He’d lose

everything—for money. He'd be
willing to lose love—my love. He'd
rather get a thousand dollars—and lose
my love.

“I'll die first,” I said.

“Yuh will, huh?’  Benny’s voice
was down in his throat. “Okay!”

He reached into a hip pocket. ‘You
got something there. You'll die is
right! Now, here’s the pitchin’ on this
—either you'll sell yourself to this rich
heel, or I'll fill you so full of holes
that no one’ll ever want you! Now,
how d’you like that?”

This wasn't Benny. I had been used
to some of his soft little cruelties. But
this man... I caught the flash of a
pistol—and I just passed out com-
pletely...

When I came to, 1 was stretched out
on the couch in a corner of the room,
Benny was sitting on the opposite side
of the room—Benny Ertel, the man
I had made so many sacrifices for, the
man I'd loved, the man I’d married,
twirling a tiny pistol between his open
knees,

“So what?” he challenged.

“All right,” I said weakly. “You
win,”

Benny put away the gun. He came
over toward me. “Atta baby! Now
you're showing that you’re smart. A
thousand bucks is a lot o’ dough.” He
put out his hand. “But you’re worth
every penny of it, kid.”

“Prom t Fotueby tine, qeteceset  b Prepceet
“Go to bed and leave me here for the
nip”

Henny shrugged his shoulders
“Okay. Okay. I know you're sore
with ane Vyart Chisel’: pve, Desadoe You

worl bre wlrer Wwe staat beavanepe ce Dotes
time with the dough.”

He started faward the bedroom,
turned. Pls voree was hard again
“Frank'Il be around tomorrow,” he
said. “Be sure there’s no slip-up this
time.”

“Or else,” T thought to mysclf.

Thad absolutely no sleep that night,
1 day there on the couch—thinking,
planning. I was living over a part of
my life. Love! Io laughed almost
hysterically. Misplaced — love. I'd
played the game with Benny Ertel. I'd
been sap enough to believe that he
loved me. Now he was forcing me to
become a party to a badger game and
prostitution, blackmail ... He’d pulled
a gun on me—me, his bride. He'd
threatened my life. What else might he
not have turned to? What wouldn't he
do for money?

| COULD see those stickup men—
Benny among them—in Tony’s Res-
taurant. “This is a stickup!” Slivers
of red coming out of gun-muzzles,
guests shrieking, bullets snicking into
walls. Into human flesh. A dead man,
an officer of the law, quick to leap into
duty, dead...

Benny’s gun . . .,“Someone pushed
me forward and shoved a gun into my
hand...” Finger-prints .. . So he’d
rather “drag down a grand” than keep
my love; would he? He'd sell me like
a slave on an auction block...

By daylight I had reached a decision.
I'd go through with it, too, this time.
I meant nothing to this man. He had
put wounds in me which never could
heal. I’d been weak. Now I'd be
strong. Let anyone try to stop me this
time.

When Benny left for downtown—he
had quit his street-hawking—I fol-
lowed a few minutes later and hailed
a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Police Headquarters,” I said..

A few minutes later I was shown
into the Detective Bureau. A big man
was seated at a desk. I went up to
him.

“Do you still want Benny Ertel?” I
asked.

The officer looked at me strangely.
“Benny Ertel,’’ he repeated. ‘“Who’s
he?”

“He was one of a gang that tried
to pull a stickup in a restaurant in
New York in April, 1937,’ I said. “A
detective was killed. Bambrick. The
other five now are waiting to go to
the hot seat. This Benny Ertel’s been
on the lam.” Oh, I was getting tough
now. And I added: “I know just
where you can pick this Benny Ertel
up.”

The officer led me into an inner
office. A long-distance call was put
through to New York. I was stand-
ing right close to the phone. The in-
stant Benhy’s name was mentioned I
heard a voice crackle over the wire:
“Benny Ertel. Do we want him? .. .
And how!”

The Washington officer talked a min-
ute or so more, then hung up. He
took me before Lieutenant Joseph
Shinon of the Pickup Squad. I told
who I was and why I had decided to
turn my husband in. We made plans
to trap Benny.

I got in touch with Benny over the
telephone and asked him to meet me
alone at his favorite restaurant in
the 1300 block of L Street, Northwest.
He’d got away from that restaurant
in New York. Let him try to get away
from this one!

Five hours later, Detective John
Gallagher arrived by plane from New
York. He had been one of the plain-

Next

in Crime Will

Be on

Issue of ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES of Women

Sale Wednesday, November 16

44

ADT

The case came to tial on Mareh 9,
1937, in City Judge Ralph Cook’s court-
room in Rast St Louis City Hall, The
room was packed and jammed with
interested — spectators. Myrtle was
dhemied in oa jaunty new frock, fell
hat and fur coat, She wis sitting cud
confident.

vhe (rial was truly a battle between
the allorneys. ‘The defense sought lo
prove how she, a helpless little woman
who had never taken a drink in her
life, was at the mercies of a drunken
brute weighing 200 pounds.

Inn few moments, however, 1 de-
fended my brother’s honor, making
her out a liar... in proving that she
literally had) haunted the taverns and
night spots and in proving that she
had taken drinks of alcoholic liquors.
I didn’t have to take anyone else’s
word for that—I had seen her. How-
ever, my testimony was strengthened
by testimony of bartenders who had
served her with drinks.

The prosecution had witnesses who
testified that Myrtle had called one of
her former husbands—she had had
three—over the phone from the corner
drug store and had shouted: “I have
just shot Virgil and he’s sure dead!”

Of course, Dad and Mother fentitiedt
Their presence in court was quile a
strain on them, but they carried on,
for Virgil's sake, although tone of ou
— Myrtle to go to the electric
eh

"A prison beri world foe penter
punishment,” said Mother, “for she
will fecl a keen remorse the rest of
her life.”

We only wanted justice done—and
our dead brother’s name cleared of the
stigma implied by Myrlle’s plea of
self-defense.

Delective Sergeants Glenn Ruffner
and Joseph Semith, who did some ex-
cellent investigating in the case, tes-
tified about the powder burns and
were corroborated by Coroner Leo L.
Madden.

H Ke ompao was a host of witnesses for
the prosecution of Virgil’s murderess.
One after another they testified, while
Myrtle sat shyly before an entirely
male jury, gesturing with her well-
kept, dainty hands.

If ‘there ever was a woman who ex-~-
pected to be acquitted of murder, it
was Myrtle Blank McDowell Voris.
There had been a wave of husband-

waite hilliayes tm Mast St Laouis: cluringys
the six months previous lo Virgil's
slaying, and all the mates—especially
the prethy, younp wives had been ae-
quilled, But this very fact, in addition
to the burden of evidence held by the
prescetelion, weiphed agteinat her in
stead of tn her favor, Phe Judge cle
clared that he wanted to stop such
husband wife slayings, and that) the
only way he could prevent conjpupal
homicides was to send the slayers to
the cleetric chair.

For three days we sal in suspense
ns the ease was tried, Myrtle bore up
under the strain with a jaunty air,
She had utter confidence in her law-
yers, who had behind them. several
successes in Winnings fepaal battles,
Finally, the jury retired to consider
the verdict. Would she go free?

Soon the jury members filed back
into their box. The foreman rose. I
listened, with my heart in my throat,
as he read the verdict:

“Guilty!”

There are no degrees of murder in
St. Clair County, and later the sen-
tence was fixed at sixteen years in the
penitentiary. Her lawyers appealed
but were denied a new trial.

It was only a few days later that
Myrtle wits cheessedt for dyer Longs
stay at the Women’s Keformatory mn
Dwight, Mlinois.

Whey Teth tive thal Myrtle ds happy
there and resigned to her fale, Ke-
signed, maybe, but happy- -never!
Mor doom sure Chat her every wrk ings
hour is haunted by the memory of ty
brother’s face as it must have looked
when she putted: the triper of Unit
revolver. And she must realize how
that the idea of killing my brother
did not originate in a moment, but
over a period of months in which little
incidents of her own making pulled
her closer and closer to her own and
my brother’s tragedy.

Hlowever much TP resent the ill-for-
tune which brought my brother loan
untimely death, I bear no malice to-
ward) Myrtle. We make our own
happiness or misfortunes, and Myrtle’s
private Hell comes from living a life
that added up to murder!

(Note: The name Adam Svenson,
used in this story, is fictitious, created
to protect the identity of an innocent
man.—The Editor.)

Because | Was Not for Sale (Continued from Page 21)

edge, I’d have known from his attitude
that Benny had a record. The thing
that seemed the clear way out, as I
reasoned it, apparently was ridiculous
to him. I should have been able to tell
from his eyes, from the expression of
his mouth.

“But why shouldn’t you go?” I ar-
gued. “Tell them the straight facts—”

“They wouldn’t believe me. I was
with the gang. The cops’d say I was
just as guilty as the rest were.”

It didn’t make sense to me, that the
law would prosecute an innocent

party.

“What’s the penalty for a holdup?”
I inquired.

“T don’t know,” Benny said. “But I
know it’s plenty—when there’s guns
in it.”

“But what do you intend to do, Ben-
ny? How can I help?”

“you still want to help, Ruth?”

“Oh, don’t be asking me questions
like that. Of course I do. Didn’t I

tell you I wouldn’t run from trouble |

if it came?”

Benny was silent for three or four
seconds. Then: “Okay,” he said jerk-
ily. “We’re leaving town.”

“We?”

“Well—me, then. I suppose I haven’t
any right to expect you to go along,
under the circumstances.”

“And under the circumstances,” I
argued, “you have no right to go,
either. Running away from trouble al-
ways looks like guilt.”

OR the first time I saw flames of
anger dart from Benny’s dark eyes.

He raised his voice, too. “What do you
want me to do? Stay here and take
the rap and blow on my friends?”

Benny was putting himself in a new
light to me on this April evening. Oh,
I'd known he wasn’t perfect. Neither
was I. Neither was anybody else I
knew. Benny was a harmless sort of
braggart, I thought, but I knew all
about his determination. He’d reached
a decision—a hasty one and a wrong
one, as I saw it—and he’d go through
with it.

“you shouldn’t get mixed_up with
such friends,” I told him. “Besides, I
want you to be a man and to act like
one, not a coward.”

Benny stood up. “Yeah? Well, man
or no man, I’m getting away from here
tonight.”

“Well, don’t do anything like this
again,” I told him, “and I won’t let
your running away change my faith
in you.”

I meant it—every word of it.

You may judge for yourself whether
I bao’ really in love with Benny Ertel
or not.

So there we were—a young couple
planning marriage, happy, very much

42

in love, together. Then suddenly
cleaved in two like a tree struck by
lightning.

Some change took place in me that
night. I loved Benny just as much as
ever, if not more. Trouble does not
kill love—when it’s true love. In my
innocence, or perhaps I had better say
ignorance, I trusted Benny just as
much—his intentions, if not his judg-
ment. Yet before Benny came in, ner-
vous and jittery that night, I always
had looked on the police as being on
my side. They would defend me if I
were insulted or attacked, help me if
I got into an accident, if someone tried
to break into my place. They were
men to trust. Now they were men to
fear, I was on the other side of the
fence from them, for they were after
the man I was going to marry.

It was a sad parting between Benny
and me. Any parting would have been
sad. But here worry was added _ to
loneliness. Yet this was only the first
act of a drama that was to twist and
distort our lives into grotesque shapes.
I felt depressed, fretful, fearful. But
in the slang of the day, I “hadn’t seen
anything yet.”

Benny said he wouldn’t be away
from me for long, that he would hide
out somewhere until “this little shoot-
ing scrape blows over.” I wondered
why he used such words. I had always
had an idea that no shooting scrape
could be just a “little” one, that when
guns were drawn and fired it was
very serious business, whether any
person was hit with a bullet or not.

I promised to wait for Benny indefi-
nitely—fervently hoping, though, that
the period of our separation would be
very brief. We agreed to correspond
with one another until the truth could
be made known and Benny’s name
cleared. Just how this could be done
with Benny “on the lam” (a term
which I learned later) I didn’t think
much about then, I guess. I was too
excited to analyze the situation thor-
oughly. The main weights on my mind
were that my Benny had been caught
in a jam and that he was going away.

When he opened the door leading
out into the hallway he poked his
head around the corner like a fright-
ened rat, to see if the coast was clear.
I should have recognized that act as
one of guilt. I didn’t. My eyes were
still blind; my brain was numbed.

And then I saw the daily papers the
following morning!

The stories carried full accounts of
the sensational holdup the preceding
night. Six bandits had walked into the
crowded restaurant with guns in their
hands to stage one of the boldest rob-
bery attempts in the history of the
city. Their fiendish mission had been
thwarted by the presence of three city
detectives who happened to be dining

there at the time. The officers had an-
swered the challenge of the bandits
with gunfire. Two of those detectives
were among the men who now were
working on the case. The career of
the third one was finished forever.

His name was Detective Hugh Bam-
brick, And when the shooting was
over he lay sprawled out—dead—on
the floor.

With eyes distended in horror, I
read the rest of it. One of the bandits,
Joseph O’Laughlin, 22 years old, was
seriously wounded. The other bandits
had escaped. Bandits! ‘Benny Ertel,
the man I was to marry, a bandit? A
city-wide search was being conducted,
the papers said, and the capture of all
the fugitives was expected momentar-
ily. I wondered: Was this account
correct? If the police were so confi-
dent that they could gather in the ban-
dits, did they know where Benny was
hiding?

ND Benny’s name was there in
bold, black type. The wounded
bandit had named his five companions.
The account further read that Ben-
ny’s gun had been found on the floor
of the restaurant, all six shells ex-
ploded. Benny’s gun? What did they
mean? The gun that had been “shoved
into his hand” by his tough friends?
The identity of the weapon had been
established through finger-prints. Fin-
ger-prints? This meant that Benny’s
finger-prints were on file at Police
Headquarters. A police record!

Why, this wasn’t at all like the story
Benny had told me. Then the news-
papers must be wrong. Certainly Ben-
ny’s story couldn't have been wrong,
he just couldn't lie to me, I thought.
Hadn't he assured me that he had not
fired even one shot from the gun that
had been shoved into his hand?

Oh, there’d be some satisfactory ex-
planation of this mix-up. Maybe it
all would be cleared up when I heard
from Benny. His name—the name that
I soon was to take and carry through
life—was right in the newspaper.
Folks who knew us would see him
branded as a member of a gang that
had killed a man in a holdup. That
couldn’t be helped, though, now. Never
mind what outsiders thought. It still
was Benny and I against the world.
Soon I’d be hearing from him. . .

But a month slipped by, and there
was no word from Benny. Five weeks,
six weeks ... Maybe I’d never see him
again, maybe never hear from him
again.

If that had only happened!

At the end of about two months,
however, I heard from Benny. He was
in Pennsylvania, hiding out there and
living under an assumed name. Two
of the bandits had been captured, the

one who had been wounded was re-
covering, and the hunt for the other
three, including Benny, had become
nation-wide.

1 never had fine-combed the papers
so closely in my life. Would Benny be
captured and brought back, also? By
some miscarriage of justice would the
police think he was as bad as the rest?
Or, even if he eluded the police, how
long would he have to hide away like
a rat in a hole? I knew Benny was
terribly frightened. I could tell that
from the tone of his letter.

And how long would it be before
we could be married, and live just as
other young married couples in love
with each other live? Benny still
loved me, he wrote me, and he still
insisted that he was innocent.

I sat right down the night I received
his letter and answered it. It was the
first letter I had ever written him. I
told him of my love and faith in him,
and tried to encourage him. When I
started to address the envelope, [ al-
most made the mistake of writing
down his real name. His assumed
name was Robert Barry.

It was another month before I re-
ceived a reply, and the days dragged.
He never was out of my thoughts.
Why didn’t he write? Where was he
now? Had he had any more bad luck?
Was he thinking of me?

“Supposing,” I thought to myself one
night, “he’s been captured and is be-
ing held some place where he can't
write—”

And then the landlady knocked on
my door and handed me an envelope.
It contained the second letter from my
Benny! He was in a different town,
and still had not been picked up by
the police. A great weight seemed to
drop from me that night.

I continued to hear from him about
once a month after that, and I always
answered his Ictter before I did a
single thing else. He was jumping
about over the country trying to keep
ahead of the law. He couldn’t keep in
funds doing that sort of thing, of
course. Once I sent him my entire
week’s wages and asked my landlady
to let the rent run over. I felt that it
was little enough. What days and
nights of fear and torture he must be
passing through!

My blind faith in him remained un-
shattered. If he had skipped town,
even though innocent, then that must
be the right thing to do.

The days dragged on, the weeks, the
months...

Then I received a terrible shock—
and I could imagine how Benny felt
when he read the item:

The other stick-up companions
of Benny’s had been apprehended, And
more than that, all five—every one
except Benny—had been convicted and

ADT

ee a

efothien OMeers were Tiel Treen Davies
PITTI TIVE Te Lc
it out with the bandits. ‘he Washiany,-
fon police seemed to suspect that 1
might cleew Chem wren oe Ccadblagehes
had been sent for—he'd be able to
recopnize Benny. To owas kept under
police surveillinee all diay until a few
minutes before L was to meet Benny.

T was seated at a table when Benny
eame in, Tle was on time, as usual,
1 was facing the door, Benny sat down
opposite me, which meant, of course,
that his back was to it. Te wasn't
the least suspicious and accepted my
apology for the way I'd acted the
night before. He ordered an excep-
tionally large meal. But he never had
a chance to take even one bite at it.

Three plain-clothes men _ strolled
through the door and walked up to
our table. The waiter was just de-
parting, with a bow. The detectives
didn’t do any bowing. Two of them
grabbed Benny. Gallagher walked
around in front to face him.

They Sentenced

that relationship, knowing that how-
ever well the individual withstands the
demoralizing influences, the stigmata
of the designation “ex-convict” is hard
to conceal.

I dwelt on the stimulating compan-
ionship of men, the joy I had known
in their conversation, their attention,
their courtesy, and wondered how I
could bear the constant company of
low women, with not a hope that I
might glimpse a masculine face, much
less enjoy the comfort of a chat with a
man, or the protection and advice I
would need as the days went by.

But somehow I survived that night,
and the day following I was introduced
to the routine of prison life, a routine
that grew more burdensome as days
went by, my life becoming regulated
by loud, insistent bells.

Lights came on and cells were un-
locked at 6 a.m. It was a scramble to
bathe sketchily in the tiny bow], dress,
sweep out the cell, and be ready for
breakfast at 6:30.

N THE dining-room the girls are

seated at ten-place tables. There are
clean cloths, and a vaseful of artificial
flowers centers each board.

Prisoners march in and stand behind
their chairs as the matron drones a
short prayer. There is little conversa-
tion, though I never heard anyone rep-
rimanded for anything less than actual
noise. The matron sits like a ghost at
the feast while the girls bolt their food
in time to leave when the bell rings.

After breakfast there is a_ short
space of time during which girls may

carry out individual tasks. Then the
work bell rings. Usually, however,

there is much too little occupation for
the girls.

I washed and ironed my clothes until
I almost wore them out, shampooed
my hair until it was almost faded, and
bathed until I was almost sodden, just
to have something to do.

In the laundry the girls become rem-
iniscent, tell some of their experiences
in the free world, and speculate about
the future.

I learned that in almost every in-
stance, if the girls themselves are to
be credited, the prisoner was a pros-
titute before she entered the particular
branch of crime for which she was
sentenced. Often, I found from their
conversation, a girl had been guilty of
much more serious crimes than the one
for which she was serving time.

To many of them, there is glamour
in evading the law, a fascination that
possesses them even while they pay
their debts to Society. This was indi-
cated in the references they made to
men. Many of them had “fall bud-
dies,” men with whom they had been
convicted for a criminal escapade.

Several of my companions had been
dope addicts in the free world. In
O. S. P., however, the dope habit is
“knocked” by the simple process of
denying the addict even a “tapering

ADT

"Remember aie, Benny?’ fhe asked
Phetee bie: Berbers Gout beep tae) Beeneen Che ve
York. Several ot your bullets whistled

past my face that night in Tony's. And
(he deatbictieg vepeant ti Grab one ob the
slugs from your gun brought death to
a food pal of mine, Detective Hugh
Dyavtiabor neds You plapeed tani oa the
stomach, Remember, Benny? Get your
hat. You're coming with us.”

Benny never opened his mouth, He
just turned white and stood there
frozen in his tracks. He had to be
almost earried out of the cafe. He
was the most surprised person I'd ever
seen, and T don’t think he ever sus-
peeted me for a moment, OF course,
he must know everything by this time.

I was taken into custody, too, just
as Benny had predicted. We are
awaiting extradition to New York, and
will be back there before this story of
mine sees print. I don’t know what
charges will be brought against me.
Whatever these charges bring, I'd

Me to McAlester

off” course of shots. Apparently the
method of cure worked no permanent
harm.

I learned that although there are
“lines in” to the front and that men
convicts may obtain dope, the women
are less fortunate in that respect, and
are lucky to reecive an_ occasional
“kite,” which is a note passed from the
front or from outside.

The first night I had heard wistful
references to my trip to the front for
the purpose of having my finger-prints
made.

“Kid, I wish T was going over there
tomorrow,” or “There's some good-
lookin’ convicts in that place.”

The next day I found they were
right. Going to the record office is an
event in anyone’s life. And some of
the men are good-looking,. with the
added asset of intelligence, a quality
of extreme rarity in the female ward.

Dressed in my blue uniform, my
clumsy prison shoes, but with a clean
face, nicely combed hair and a_ red
ribbon around my head,'I was taken
to the big building, a guard driving
the car and Mrs. Morris, the Negro
girls’ matron accompanying me.

Again I climbed that long flight of
steps. Again I passed beneath the im-
personal scrutiny of the huge guard at
the door. This time, however, I went
down the hall and into that rotunda, a
convict among convicts. Each barred
door clanked shut behind us before the
next one opened ahead.

A uniformed guard with a rifle pa-
troled a catwalk that commanded an
uninterrupted view of the rotunda and
its row on row of cells.

Passing close to the cells which
house the condemned men until they
are ready to be taken to the death-
house in the basement, we ascended an
open iron stairway, past scores of men
convicts, most of them Negroes.

All eyes were fastened on me, and
that close, concentrated scrutiny was a
gauntlet of terror for me. I was as
thoroughly frightened then as at any
time during my stay in prison.

Another iron stairway, more ogling
men, and then we passed through sev-
eral offices in which white convicts
were at work. There I saw men of all
types. One and all, however, they
raised their eyes, but not their heads,
to scrutinize me keenly as I passed.

In the record office proper, a number
of young men were engaged in various
tasks, all of which they immediately
forgot as soon as Mrs. Morris and I
entered.

Th hunger of these men for the sight
of a woman was an almost tan-
gible thing. It was both frightening
and stimulating.

Seating me at a desk, the only mid-
dle-aged man in the room ordered me
to sign a stack of finger-print cards.
There were fifteen of them. Had I
been disposed to disguise my hand-
writing, I should have been too tired

rolher ove through with it than to
Ubon eseagely avith thie Voeen as iodo lV
pled bay Ce tans bt bawed
Love? tt ean be wonderful, Tt can
leehonperous Agi boewer ta find lowe
again? ob doubt ih Que Ching, toam
going to follow the advice that 1 am
riven fo cather piebs im There pages.
Hoboever become giterested in ao naga

again, 1 am not going to fall in love
blindly. To oam shrewder now, Tam
more sophistiented. Fo any larder to
fool.

Tam not so happy.

Perhaps the embarrassment of my
brush with the law will be the sting
that will help to heal my wounds.
They will never heal completely. ]
turned in the man I once had loved
madly, blindly, the man Thad picked
from all the world. L hope I did right.
I believe I did.

What do you think?

Another picture with this story may
be found on Page 39.

(Continued from Page 31)

by the time I signed the last one to
effect a decent deception.

My shoes were removed and my
height was recorded; then I was
weighed.

Next I was passed to a grinning
young convict, who told me to sit in a
swivel-chair facing a huge, battered
camera.

He went around behind me, and as
I tried to follow him with my eyes, he
pointed my chin ahead and said, “No
one is going to hurt you, sweetness.
Just sit still.”

Then he hung a huge plate on my
chest, and I looked down to see 35,175
in huge numerals across its face.

Adjusting my head to the proper
angle, he said, “Don’t jump now. I’m
going to turn on some bright lights,”
and he flipped the switches. Bathed in
the merciless glare of two arc lamps,
I was photographed full-face and pro-
file. The cameraman talked soothingly,
as though his subject were a nervous
child. His,kindness is still an oasis of
thought in the memory of that dread-
ful time.

As soon as he had finished, I was
sent to a high table, where another
good-looking young fellow took one of
my hands and began rolling my fin-
ger-prints.

“I’m glad you’re an odd number,”
he remarked.

“Yes? Why?”

“Because if you had been even, he
(indicating another man across the
desk) would have printed you.”

I looked, and was glad, too; because
he was not a nice-looking person. He
seemed to like me, too, however, for
he soon blurted out, ‘When I get out
of here, I’m going to marry you. I’ve
always wanted a big girl.”

“I'd like to be consulted in the mat-
ter if you don’t mind,’ I remarked
bitingly, but he said he’d planned to
wait until he had completed his sen-
tence before going into that formality.

i awd boy taking my prints asked the
stock questions about why I had
“fallen,” how much time I brought,
and such things.

Finally I said, “Why are you here?”
Somehow I just couldn’t make myself
drop into the vernacular of the place.

“You wouldn’t like me so well (con-
ceited upstart) if you knew what I
fell for,” he said, grinning.

“What's that?” I asked, of course.

“I’m serving time for rape,” he an-
nounced solemnly.

“You're bragging,’ I _ retaliated
quickly, confident he was lying.

His little-boy grin flashed again, and
he said: “Guess that’s right. I’m doing
25 years for stealing a car. I guess I
got about half smart, and landed in
this place.”

My photographer, I learned, was
serving two concurrent 25-year sen-
tences for murder. He had killed two
men and tried to kill two more in a
drunken brawl. The ambitious swain

Ma
Tal

Says |!

“A nes
teaching
stood say
and desir
understa
power w!
His. so-¢
world-wic
Frank B.
author a

“Psychi
ligion, be
possible |
understa)
derstood
the Carp
lieves_ an
“the thin
meant w)

about his
he finall:
an Unse:
in itself
fade inti
he learn:
Living ¢
failing

happines
any nor)
Jesus dic
tise free

It will b
cost or ol
—Copyr

Home’
f 4

Now...
ritis, rheuy
+ with

‘

right in y
Tmparts th
by medica!

fest withon
B

FREE
doy Of Li

3932 Fiel

THE M:

Recomme
ext work
tively «
necessary
Waterpre
ease, yet
RUPTUI
together
in your ¢
CLUTHT

TO

TAN S$!

lake gent


cemteneedd fa adbesthy dm the ebeetrie
ehatel

My only hope was that with this
mains Convietion, the sensational ease
would fade from the news and eventa
ally become cold with the police and
toe ehoned. Thaw Tittle 2 havew  odvaudt
poliee methods,

Christmas that) year was terribly
lonesome, Th was so utterly different
from the Chiaustinaes of the previotes
year when I had met Benny and fallen
deeply in love with him.

A letter from Benny two days be-
fore Christmas was my only happiness
(hat holiday season, PO really was a
cheerful letter, much more so than the
previous ones.

Benny wrote that he was in Wash-
ington and starting on a new job with
prospects of promotion and regular in-
crease in pay. He was “going straight,”
Benny wrote. Why, of course he was.
Hadn't he always been straight? Was
it his fault that he had had bad luck
and got mixed up with the wrong
friends? Women in love can reason
this way.

I never saw any further reports that
the police were making the slightest
effort to locate Benny. Had the police,
then, realized at last that Benny was
innocent, that he had no part in
the tragic holdup? It must mean this.
And joyfully I wrote Benny this in my
Christmas letter. I didn’t suggest,
though, that he return to New York.
Since he was getting along so well in
Washington, and had promised to send
for me and marry me soon, better have
him stay in the capital.

AY after day I kept working be-
hind the candy counter. I was re-
fusing more dates than ever during
this season. If those fellows who tried
to date me only knew that I never
gave them a thought. I was dreaming
of the happy days when Benny and I
would be together again. Together!

Then—on March 13—came a really
happy day. I began to figure that thir-
teen must be my lucky number. For
Benny wrote me that he wanted me
to come to Washington just as soon as
possible and marry him. He was msk-
ing good money, so he wrote. Could
I come soon?

Soon? When Benny wanted ine to
come on and marry him? I gave up
my job at once, bought a few new
clothes, packed up, and caught a bus
for Washington. Passing through
Philadelphia I wired Benny—under
his assumed name, of course—the time
of my arrival. Benny was to meet
the bus.

All the way down I thought of him.
I could hear the chatter of tourists in
the seats near to me. Some wanted to
go through the Capitol, others wanted
to see the White House, some this,
others that. But all I wanted to see
was Benny, and as the bus drew into
the station I couldn’t make him out in
the knot of folks there to meet the
incoming bus. A small red-headed
man grabbed me in his arms as I
alighted, and I jerked away from him
angrily. And then: “Why Benny! I—”

“Ssst! Lay off that! Call me Bob!
Kiss me.”

I did. He hustled me off to his room-
ing-house and, once behind closed
doors, we sat for hours entwined in
each other’s arms, talking over old
times and plans for the future. I asked
Benny why he had dyed his hair.

He smiled. “Like the change?”

“No,” I admitted, frankly. “I al-
ways loved your coal-black hair. This
reddish tinge makes me feel you’re
wearing a disguise—that you’re not
the same Benny I fell in love with.”

“I'm not, either, dear,” Benny said.
“My name’s Bob—Robert Barry. You
mustn’t ever forget that. It’s impor-
tant. And I’m from Chicago now, and
not New York.”

“But Benny,”
see—”

“Bob!” he cut in, raising a finger to
caution me.

“Well, all right— Bob, then. But
don’t you see all that’s not necessary
any longer? That whole mess back in
New York is over and forgotten, and
you haven't anything further to worry
about. Don’t you see?”

I said. “Don’t you

AD?

Pheniay  davtepebveet “AVY yeah bee
teh Wats cigelit, Beatle Dae bteat
I've been living here as Bob Barry,

frienels lieve all baveaye ae by
thatoname. Might even nacai may jab
to change back right now. Anyhow, il
Tom't nak cay li Mereniee Tis ote
your Taye oat Che teanie ”

“It certainly is, Benny, bE conceded,
“And when we pet married

"We'll tise Uhe  Taray  taiie
we'll make it tomorrow, dear.”

The following day in the little town
of Rockville, Maryland's Gretna Green
on the edge of Washington, I quietly
became Mrs. Robert Barry and prom
ised to love, honor and obey the man
beside me “until death do us part.”

I meant to keep that promise for-
ever. To owas happy, very happy. We
were man and wife at last. We'd do
things and go places.

But I never dreamed
and what places!

and ay

And

Honeymoon days! They were magic.
I was a young bride very much in love
with her husband. There wasn’t a wife
in the highest official or diplomatic
circles in Washington who possibly
could have been as happy as I was.
We had found a cozy little nest in the
best residential section of northwest
Washington. We bought furnishings
on the instalment plan. Almost from
the first day our apartment looked as
if we had been living there for weeks.

It was all like a delightful dream.
And that’s what it was—a dream from
which I was to be roughly awakened.

Benny was so generous that I finally
asked him if he was making enough
money to afford all this for us.

Benny’s eyes clouded up—storm
signals. Then he controlled himself.
But he said: “Now listen, Sweet, it’s
always bad for a wife to know too
much about her husband's business
affairs. There’s just one angle to this
whole setup: Are you happy?”

“Happy?” I repeated. ‘Why, I never
was so happy in all my life.”

Pie let’s leave it at that,’ Benny
sala,

Benny was gone all day. He'd go out
early in the morning and not come
back till eight at night. Then we'd
have dinner together. It was fun hav-
ing Benny dry the dishes while I
washed them. In fact, everything was
fun. Life suddenly had become one
big ball of fun, growing larger and
larger as blindly we rolled it along
the uncertain thoroughfare of adven-
ture and romance.

I ran into a little jolt when I
learned the line of business Benny was
following. I happened to be downtown
one afternoon and saw a small man
standing on a corner on Pennsylvania
Avenue trying to sell cheap souvenirs
to tourists. It was Benny.

So this was his business—a_ strect
hawker. Of course, the line was re-
spectable enough. But I knew Benny
couldn’t make much money at that.
All day long he circulated through the
territory between the White House
and the Capitol Building, hoping to
catch a sucker here and there.

It looked like a plain matter of
simple arithmetic to me. We had en-
gaged an apartment at :a fairly high
rent. We had equipped it with furni-
ture. With a good income, even a
modcrate one, we could get by. But
I couldn’t see how we were to get by
on the money Benny took in from
souvenir selling. I looked for a crash
—but only a financial crash. I still
had no forecast of the real crash that
was coming, the crash that was to
wreck my life and echo down through
years of disillusionment and shame.

HE showdown came during the

third week in May, 1938, hardly two
short months after our marriage.
Benny came home that evening looking
very tired and depressed. He flopped
into a chair. “Well, Ruth, I just can’t
make it,” he said wearily.

“What do you mean?” I
“What's wrong?”

“Plenty. The rent’s due in another
ten days, and with business so lousy
I won't be able to meet it.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,
Benny,’ I said. Then I told him about

asked.

what things

finelings out bis naenic af ineome. siueh

an ib war Popne ree Peereh ccriel cn y Cha dnage
about it before that. L talked to him
very earnestly, tried ta shaw him that
seopredagee Pia wae
We were trying
we qwere pulling:
Woe declared tira
section, with both of us
and living under our real
nome Of Brbel, everything on the ap
and-up, nothing concealed. ‘That, it
seemed to me, was the only way we
could expect to find real happiness,
The strain of this sort of an arrange-
ment was beginning to show on both
of us.

“So that’s that, Benny. I'll get a job
too, and we'll move to some quarters
within our means, and—~

“No slums for me,’ Benny cut in.
“We got to live in class.”

“Class?” I said. “How do you make
that out?”

“For the simple reason that the
bulls’d never think of looking for me
in a swell joint like this. You see, the
bulls—"

“You mean the police?”

Benny looked at me as if I might be

weoowene diving
little short of a lie.
fer doer
ome babe
tenement

working

serene bier

dumb. “Sure. Who do you think I
mean?”
“But why do you keep thinking

about the police all the time?”

BEGAN to feel a little uncertain

about things in general. How about
that job Benny had written me that
he had? How about his prospects of
promotion and regular increase in pay?
And that gun that was “shoved into
his hand” during the stickup? And his
explanation that was so utterly dif-
ferent from the accounts in the news-
papers? For the first time, I asked him
the direct question: ‘Are you guilty,
Benny?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “But
IT was with those guys, and that makes
me look guilty. And it makes you
guilty, too, Ruth—for shielding me,
and for withholding information!”

He went into details that I couldn't
quite understand. But I understood
well enough as he went on explaining
that I had violated the letter of the
law, that I now was a hunted person
just the same as he was—I who had
worked at a steady, honest job for
small wages behind the counter of a
five-and-ten.

The facts I heard scared me, stunned
me. I couldn’t say a word, and Benny
went on: “You might as well face
what we're up against. We’re on the
lam, the pair of us. I can’t afford to
go out looking for a job where I'd be
investigated — and neither can you,
Ruth. Now we're in a spot. I’m tell-
ing you, we got to give all we got.
We're in desperate need of dough. And
I’ve got a plan that'll get us some.”

“Well,” I said, “if it’s within the
law—”
“Sure. And how! This’ll be heavy

money before we get through. No
cops poking their noses in on this.
Easy, too. I know a man here in town,
an influential businessman rolling in
dough. Away up in the chips, this guy
—uand he's very anxious to meet you,
Ruth. You see—”

“Benny!”

I fairly shrieked the word. ‘Could
you, my husband, possibly mean—”

“You just wait till I finish,” Benny
interrupted. “This big guy thinks
we’re brother and sister, artists out of
work, living on a limited income. You
got the looks, Ruth. And you're the
kind of a girl to make the right im-
pression, knock him for a row. He’ll
spend a lot of money on you, buy you
clothes—”

I was beginning to feel shuddery,
creepy. Even the business of the stick-
up mixup had never affected me like
this. Somehow I felt the way I always
felt when I looked at a snake. But
Benny was quite calm, was warming
up to the proposition he was making.

“Buy you clothes, take you around
to all the hot spots, show you the time
of your life. Then we'll agree on one
particular night when he’ll accept your
invitation to come up here to the
apartment. Get it? Ill come in. I'll

tell you all about what to be doing,
and—”

DON'T LET R
PASS YOU

Ugly fat makes you look

“Works like mayic’',

delighted satisfied users
try. In Hollywood the wo
ourous people know and
WOOD STAR REOUCETTI
you can afford to pay.

EXPENSE. So sure are «
thrilled with the resul

Pa, a ir, ‘
SENDNO.
We will send a 30-day &
$1.00. A $2.69 box for

may save more money
Proven most economical

GUARAN

money-back trial for only
«complete combination cou
PREMIUMS... INQUIRE
Get rid of dangerous
SAFE HOLLYWOOD ST
No dinitrophenol, thyroid
Eat what you like... nv

gredients method recomn
Doctors and nurses every
certified gold bond mone
the envy of your friend
offer lasts-SEND NOW!

Please rush me... .boxe
DUCETTES with your
Enclosed find $.-.-..-
send C.O.D. I will pay ¢
ery. Enclose your pricel

FREE “etnoo or

| ees

OLLYWOOD

A-Studic, Box 375

Free fi
Durin

If you suffer wi
Asthma when it
Wintry winds mak
for breath wag the
impossible bedause
if you feel the disc
life away, don’t f
Frontier Asthma
remarkable method
or whether you he
under the Sun, ser
have suffered for
thing vou could le:
bb are utterly d
ope but send tod:
cost you nothing.

Frontier Asthma
462 Niagara St.,

Nervo'
Ankles

Much nervousness ty
potsons due to funetic
which may also cause
ages, Swollen Joints
Excess Acidity, Lex
Kidneys purify your by
first dose starts help
acids and this seen 1
the money-hack guarar
or cost nothing, Get Cy
Se a dose at

drugs

FALS)

SAVE 90 DAS
HALF itu
OR prsiee ta nm
MORE yu wit,

plan gives you 3 ment!
Your money back if 1
ing 90 days’ trial 1
ers wearing my dental
Method is founded or

Ed

Write TODAY fv
DR. CLEVELAND
Dental Laboratory,


ANTHONY & WILLIAM ESPOSITO (New York)

"At noon fifth Avenue was crowded, Alfred Klausman, middled-aged
office manager of a linen firm, walked across the street from his
office to the bank on the corner and drew the weekly pay robl: $649.

"As the genial, round-faced Kaausman walked back, two men silently
threaded through the crowd behind him, two strange, grey-coated crea~
tures washed up from the depths of New York City's criminal world,

One was Anthony Esposito, 35, a long-nosed, horse-faced hoodlum who had
been in & out of New York's prisons and reformatories for 16 years, had
once been deported to Italy and sneaked back in. His brother, William,
29, had robbed drunks, snatched pocket=-books, done a seven-year stretch
in Sing Singe Their father had derved time for forgerye Their brother
was in Clinton Prison, Dannemora, Ne Ye for parole violation. Their
lives had been spent in Squalor, petty crime, prison and torpid
hard-eyed loafinge

"Klausman entered the elevator to his office. The Esposito bro=-
thers stepped in after him, petween the second and third floors they
drew revolvers from their overcoat pockets, orderdd the operator to
stop, face the door. He heard Klausman cry ‘Nol No! Nol! = then one
of the gunmen put his revolver to Klausman's head and pulled the trigger

"They ordered the eperator to take the elevator down, ducked out
into the street, disappeared into Bs Altman's big department store.

"Out into the street, the operator yelled 'Hold-up! Murdert! ‘The
cry spreade Two patrolmen raced from the corner, into the store, a
long way behinde

"Down the crowded aisles of the store darted the Espositos, through
the block=long buildinge At the far entrance they climbed into a cab,
put a gun at the driver's head, put Madison Avenue was jammed with
tSaffis; they were trapped, ‘Get goings Make it fast. Get moving or
we'll kill you.' Back in the store panic was Spreading as police with
drawn revolvers moved down the aisles shouting, 'Get down"! The cab
stalled behind a buse Like men leaping over a cliff, the brothers
jumped out into the traffic, At sight of the two running men, Waving
revolvers, people flattened themselves against the buildings or ducked
XMX to the sidewalk. A taxi driver ran to Patrolman Edward Maher, di-
recting traffic on the corner, yelled 'Stick-up!! and pointed at tia
fleeing mene Maher raced after them, only 20 feet behind, afraid to
shoot into the crowde Motorists left their cars and joined the chase.
Maher saw a clear space, shot twice, and William Esposito staggered
Sideways, fehl face downward, one arm outstretched, one twisted under
him, &@pparently dead,

"A little crowd collected around him. Patrolman Maher held the
gunman by the overcoat, started to turn him over, turned to warn the
crowd awaye ‘Back up, please,! he said, ‘someone's liable to get
hurte' As he rolled William over, the gunman's .38 came upe William
Esposito pulled the trigger and Patrolman Maher slumped over, deade

"The crowd surged back, then forward, A taxi driver named
Leonard Weisberg leaped on the prone gunman, He grabbed for the re-
volver, missede Esposito jerked it back a few inches, fired again,
Weisberg, clutching his throad, gasping for breath, fell to the sidewalk.

"Esposito, still lying down, drew another gun from his overco2t
pockete Two men leaped on him. Then the crowd closed in, kicking and
beatinge

"Anthony ran on when his brother felle Behind him the police
fired into the aire e shot a few times, wildly, apparently to clear
crowds out of his way on Fifth Avenue. e ducked into Wooaworth's,


« J. C. Penney
the gun hand.
vee. Esposito’s
into the folds
ue up with a
orio, Who had
» in the chase,
efore it could

of the killer’s
-«l in working
rer, stood there
azzle pointing
vin Reidy, of
av three bodies
ind one youth
him could not
he law, holding

ci at DiGreg-
there In, open-"

inable to say -a

front of the
outed excited-

That’s the one.”

ruggling to his

angry crowd
is men rained
oulders. Des-
cover up. Feet
1 his ribs. One
cainst. his jaw.

STER DETECTIVE

| |

Esposito went down and stayed down,

Other uniformed officers came up, gained
control of the crowd and pushed it back.

The Kemp & Beatley payroll intact
in its brown paper ‘wrapping was found
alongside the fallen killer. © Patrolman
Reidy picked it up, and stuffed it into
the pocket of his uniform overcoat. No
chances were being taken now. — It
leoked as if the murderer were un-
conscious, but a brother offieer had
fallen tor that double-crossing hoax. He
had paid with his life because he gave
this trapped rat a break. Fingers itched
on the trigger. Let him play ’possum
now! The officers were waiting. Four
guns from «lfferent angles were trained
on Esposito as Reidy knelt down and
clamped a pair of handeuffs on his
Wrists.

The main part of the chase had con-
tinued after Anthony Esposito. Six offi-
cers and thirty civilians were in pursuit.
Continuing westward the desperate thug
pumped lead wildly in front of him. The
crowds dispersed frem his path. Officers
withheld their fire lest a pedestrian be
hit.

Anthony — Esposito had = no sueh
scruples. Without turning his head he
would take an oeeasional pot shot over
his shoulder. One of these struck William
C, Mueller, a guard at the Central Han-
over Bank on Thirty-fourth Street.

He had fired one full chp and half of
a second when he reached Fifth Avenue,
plunged through the traffic and darted
into the extensive Woolworth five-and-
ten-cent store. Women shoppers seeing
this wild-eved apparition waving two
smoking revolvers, screamed and dueked

hee
*

REPEL:

QO LD BP

Cab driver Leonard Weisberg was
shot when he bravely made a grab
for William Esposito’s gun

arkit, 1941

Like a captive jungle beast, Anthony Esposito, who loosed a deadly hail
of lead into Fifth Avenue throngs, is led away by detectives

for cover. Uysterta spread through the
crowded store. Esposito rushed between
counters, dived down the basement steps.

THE policemen now came ino with

Patrolman James Cotter, of the Mid-
town Squad, and George Horner, of
Traffie D, in the lead. Heads been
popping up at the reassuring sight of
the men in blue.

“Stay down!” Cotter shouted.

A salesgirl rushed up. “He went that
way!” she called breathlessly, pointing
to the basement.

With rare presence of mind the officer
did not rush off in the direetion she
pointed. He knew that with the best
intentions in the world a hysterteal wom-
an could send them off on a talse trail.

“What did he look like?” Cotter

snapped.

“Gray overcoat, wild hair, two guns.”

Cotter stopped her short. That was
all he needed to know to assure him
that the direction she pointed was the
correct one. He raced down the base-
ment steps, a host of men at his heels.

In striking contrast to the confusion
that reigned on the main floor, the base-
ment was calm. Hundreds of men and
women shoppers were walking through
the aisles, none of them aware of the
tense drama that was being enacted.

There was a reason for this. With ani-
mal cunning, the treacherous murderer
had, the moment he started down the
steps, hastily hidden both guns and
slowed down to a walk. He tried to lose
his identity in the erowd. He stooped
over a counter, examined an article,
moved on to another counter.

The police (Continued on page 79)

9


Pieper, a clerk
Store in New
doa young man
‘da natty brown

Pieper asked.

Ss were necessary,
take it with him.

and the package
4 who pulled
his hip pocket.
old style one-

{ see you’ve got
is still.”’
them for a long
_ve. There you
dollars, right?”
‘d out.
e cashier's cage,
had just recalled
ank robbery and
ead in the paper
consisted of old

he Pulaski State
the bank could
* serial number.
iff Coleman, who

ustomer matched
! stood just in-
nk while it was
wtner with the

had. the car

Made the ex-

gun.”

iced that the
as he had be-
‘ion of the ‘suit
{ with forty-five
ar bills, the Un-
he would break

‘3th, Harvey A.
‘irst State Bank
through his cage
dress was im-
light brown hat
‘ssed suit of the
and blue cravat,
lef with a blue
arom his breast

-aVings account,”

vou wish to de-
juired,

and all in one-
en saving them
d it’s getting to

id address?”

bills down and
wh the wicket,

he counted the
hew and crisp,
1 the bills ran
had just come
--es. They had
what, so. that a
curred now and
brand-new one-
ive serial nume-
cable feat.
evening Earl
' the front door.
in, Andy Mul-
ushed their way
{ Thomsen ran
' s«tisfied them-

‘ing inquired,
if you had
stvle one-dollar
‘id. “The same
this suit with.”

ASTER DETECTIVE

A

“T don’t get you,” the shifty-eyed Wing
replied. “Sure I bought this suit with old
bills. But what of it?. I saved them. I
ought to be able to spend them without
you guys coming out here and making a
scene right in my home.”

“That isn’t half of it,” Coleman said.
“We're going to make a bigger scene than
this unless you tell us where you got all
those new one-dollar bills you deposited
today in the First State Bank of New
London. I suppose you saved all those,
too.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did—three
hundred of them. Guy Sig] gave me most
of them during the milk strike.”

“Listen, ” Coleman said, “don’t lie, be-
cause we’re going to check up on you. If
Guy Sigl gave you that money, how come
all the serial numbers run consecutively?”

“T don’t know. He had a pile of them
in his safe. He handed me # hundred and
fifty of them at one time.”

“All right, come along. We'll go and
see Sigl.”

Sigl, a well-to-do ila near by, said
he had paid Wing in one-dollar bills from
time to time, but he was certain the num-
bers of the bills didn’t run consecutively.

WiINc was locked up for the night and
the next day he was identified by all
those in the bank at the time of the hold-
bs 4 as the man who had stood at one side
the door. Jaroch, the expressman, identi-
fied him as the man who had driven the car.
He was questioned repeatedly for hours
at’ a time, but refused to admit anything.
After some investigating it was learned
that Wing had been seen lately in the
company of Maynard Martin, and that the
pair had been together as recently as the
evening before the bank robbery. They
were traced to Kaukauna and soon the
police knew. where they had bought the
nickel-plated revolver. Wing admitted
buying the gun but asserted Martin had
wanted it for rabbit hunting.
But Martin had left town. He had de-
parted hurriedly the day after Wing’s ar-

~rest, the officers learned, and he had told

no one where he was going.

A “wanted” circular was rushed off the
presses and mailed to sheriffs and_police
departments in seven states, listing Martin
as a bank robber.

On December 28th, just two weeks to
the day after Wing’s arrest, Traffic Officer

Nolan of Chattanooga, Tennessee, stopped
a motorist for a minor traffic violation. He
asked for the man’s driver’s license and
for the ownership certificate to the car,
neither of which the driver possessed. He
said he had left home in a hurry and
had forgotten to provide himself with these
papers. The car bore Wisconsin license
plates. Nolan detained the driver until
he could wire Madison. Madison in turn
checked with the Green Bay police. A
little later the Sheriff’s office sent the fol-
lowing telegram:

HOLD CAR AND DRIVER BELIEVED TO BE
MAYNARD MARTIN WANTED HERE FOR
BANK ROBBERY

The prisoner readily admitted his iden-
tity but denied any connection with the
robbery. He had about $300 in his pos-
session, which he said he had saved over
a period of years.

e was brought back during the early
part of January, 1934, and elected to stand
trial alone. He went to trial March 7th,
1934, in Circuit Court before the Hon.
Henry Graass. District Attorney Clarence
J. Dorschel ably handled the case for the
State. After hearing an array. of wit-
nesses, including those who had been in
the bank at the time of the robbery, the
expressman and the officers who had taken
part in the investigation, the jury returned
a verdict of guilty and Judge Graass sen-
tenced Martin to a term of fifteen to
twenty years in Waupun.

Twelve days later, Earl Wing stood trial
in Municipal Court. The same witnesses
who had testified at Martin’s trial, plus
the clerk who had sold Wing the suit of
clothes and the bank teller who had taken
his $300 deposit, were heard. Wing did
not take the stand. The jury returned a
verdict of guilty, and on March 31st the
prisoner was sentenced to fifteen to twenty
years.

And so’came to an end the career of
the “crime-school graduates” who had
gone in for crime in a big way and who
had expected to make such a brilliant suc-
cess. Cleverness had been their aim, but
in the end they had proved by their own
blunders that crime doesn’t pay.

Nore: The names Jim O'Malley and
Snubby Small are fictitious and have been
subslituled for the actual names of the
characters referred to in this story.

Manhattan Massacre

(Continued from page 9)

stopped in the stair well, scanned the
crowd on the lower floor. For a minute
they lost the fugitive; then Cotter spied
him.: He could not. be mistaken. There
was the gray, soiled overcoat, the dark,
bushy hair, the black, restless eyes in
which smoldered jungle hate.

The officers, their guns held ready,
started for him. Esposito’s back was to-
ward them as he edged unobtrusively to-
ward the rear of the store. He must
have sensed rather than have seen the
danger, for Patrolman Cotter’s approach
had been silent.

He wheeled about—saw the officer al-
most upon him. With a snarl he reached
for his 38. Cotter swung -a left “hay-
maker” that caught the cold-blooded thug
flush on’ the jaw. Anthony’s knees buck-
led and he sank slowly to the floor, Cot-
ter was on him in a flash, brought the
butt end of his revolver crashing down
on his head. By now other pursuers liad
caught up. Women had taken part in the
chase and now they flailed at the fallen
man with their handbags, then pummelled

APRIL, 1941

him before the patrolmen could force
them back.

Rough hands jerked the killer to his fect.
A nipper was fastened to a wrist. Two 38's
were taken out of his coat pockets. A po-
lice officer broke the chambers—six
shots had been fired from one, three from
the other. In his trouser pocket was found
a box containing fifty extra rounds of 38
caliber cartridges of a type known as wad
cutters, which are similar in effect to the
deadly’ dum-dum.

Esposito was half-dragged out of the
store. The crowds that had gathered were
so dense it was impossible to break
through. A flying wedge of additional po-
licemen who had come up in the mean-
time cleared a path of sorts as the pris-
oner was brought back toward 6° East
Thirty-fourth Street, where the body of
Alfred Klausman still lay where it had
fallen in the elevator eage.

As they crossed Vifth Avenue to the
east side of Thirty-fourth Street, the
tricky killer stumbled, and stretched a

hand down as though to save himself from |

ELECTRICITY

**LEARN BY DOING’?
12 weeks training

VWLL FINANCE
YOUR TRAINING!
Get ready Apt fora good job in Elec-
tricity. Ms Big Free lls you how
we train you in 12 weeks, ‘ey actual shop-
work on real electrical machinery—not by

or correspondence. Amazi ng B an

10

Bros lie ee nesecn toes ‘ice. Dies:

ines, Radi frigeration
‘Air Sond tioning instruction included

MAIL COUPON forFREE BOOK and

| all facts.

I H.C. LEWIS, Pres., OYNE E FLECTRICAL SCHOOL i

J 5900'S. Paulina St. Chicago, Ill. i]
Send free book with Facts on Coyne. the Bay After Gradu- 1

§. ation plan, and extra 4 weeks Radio Course now included. 1

: NAME ry]

1 ADDRESS a

Learn Profitable Profession
in OO days at Home

‘ors
Write for Anatom
booklet—They’re F:

THE College of Sontion Massage
30 E. Adams St., Dpt. 462, Chicago

STOPPED
fnadiffy

ITCH ice.

For “quick relief from Bo engin of eczema, pimples, ath-
lete’s foot, scales, scabies, rashes and other externally
caused skin troubles, use world-famous, cooling, anti-
stinks ler uid D,D.D, Prescription. Greaseless,
ota, Soothe thes irritation and quickly stops intense

itching ig. 5c trial bottle proves it, or money back. Ask
ruggist today for D. D. D. PRESCRIPTION.

NEW a=

DURABLE PLASTIC canmers

Dual Bands-Magictenna-Microdial
Pan aellercecuie meee
ae rel eS.
PATENTED POWER RECTI«
PMIGRODIAL"?, Pian)
LL. SAYS: “MIDGET RADIO

“She Gok TE
Sirs a Half Dollar

TS will pay CASH for
OLD COINS, BILLS and STAMPS

POST YOURSELFI It pays! ap
va, Bowey Ee ey
o! Wexas,foroneliait Dollar: bee

L PAY $100. 00 FOR A DIME! )
1804S. M ue .00 for 1918 Liberty Hend Nickel (not Buffalo) —/(42)
and ined other amazing prices ror coins, Send 4c for ie f
sarees i rage Mite one Folder Fr Spheres particulars. It may

BM MAX h MEHL isi Mehi Bide. F FORT WORTH, TEXAS
Coin Establishment in U. 8.)

Learn at Home—Make Good Money :

Get facts about job opportunities in Radio and those coni-

ing in Television, Read how you Drepere 8 at home in spare
time. Hundreds I trained have good Radio jobs or their
own Radio businesses. Many make $30, $40, $50 a week.
Many make $5 to $10 a week extra fixing radios in spare
time while learhing. Find out what Radio offers you,
r= face Get 64-page book ‘‘Rich Rewards in Radio.”

4 E. 3, SMITH, President, Dept. 1DF4
f National Radio Institute, Washington, D. C. |
Mail me your book FREE. (No salesman will call.
| Please write plainly.) AGE... .seeeee !
| NAMED occcccccccccccccccrcccvcccccsccsssescctecce :
| ADDRESS .nccccvccccccccccccccccccccsceccesceses I
| TES teeta ce cats cat cas cate AT eg


falling. There'wasn’t a single officer in the
crowd escorting him to the scene of the
original murder who wasn’t prepared to
regard his every action with the highest
suspicion. Even this apparently innocent
move brought instant retaliation.

One of the uniformed men struck him
a rabbit punch on the back of the neck,
knocked him off balance so that he dangled
from the patrolman’s wrist by a single
handeuff. Two officers swiftly searched
the lower part of the thug’s body, and
found a fully loaded 38 caliber police
positive revolver strapped to the inside
of his right leg.

None too gentle hands jerked him to
his feet once more, hustling him into the
lobby of the building in which the offices
of Kemp & Beatley are located. Already
gathered here was the most impressive
array of police officialdom ever to con-
gregate at the scene of any single crime.
There was Police Commissioner Lewis J.
Valentine, Deputy Police Commissioner
Francis J. Kear, Chief Inspector Louis
Costuma, Chief of Detectives John. J.
Ryan, Deputy Chief Inspector John Gal-
lagher. There was Captain Mullins, head
of the high-powered Homicide Squad, ac-
companied by Sergeant. Andrew Ryan,
Detectives Edward Shields, Robert Dugan
and Eugene Canevieri.

(THE man who took charge of the scene
was District Attorney Thomas E.
Dewey’s Chief Assistant. Head of the
Homicide Bureau, Jacob J. Rosenblum.

While the Emergency Squad_ tried to
unscramble the traffic snarl and bring a
semblance of order to the Midtown dis-
trict, officers dragged William Esposito
into the narrow lobby that served as tem-
porary headquarters for the investigation.

Screaming foul oaths William tried_to
wrench himself: loose from his captors. The
steel handcuffs bit painfully into his
wrists. He snapped viciously at the hand
of Patrolman Walter Cody, to whom he
was chained. sinking his teeth in the
officer’s hand. Revolver butts hammered
him into submission.

The bodies of Klausman and Patrolman
Maher were removed to the morgue, Cab
Driver Weisberg and Bank Guard Mueller
were rushed to French Hospital, while
heavily guarded ambulances brought. the
brothers, characterized by Police Commis-
sioner Valentine as “the mad-dog slayers”
to the “Cage”, the break-proof Bellevue
Hospital prison ward.

A strong police force guarded the out-
side of the room while inside, Detective
Canevieri took charge. The wounded
slayers were unaware of his presence be-
cause the officer. who understood Italian
perfectly, had donned a white coat and
hung a stethoscope around his neck. He
was one of the “physicians” attending the
battered brothers.

Around midnight Anthony had a bad
spell and felt that he was going to die.
He screamed for medical attention, and a
doctor and priest were sent for. When
the killer saw the priest. he shouted in
rage, “Get out of here! I quit talking
to you guys thirty years ago.”

Late that night he whispered to his
brother, “Are you up?”

“Ves.”

.His eyes swept the prison ward, and
saw only a single doctor in attendance.
He studied the doctor suspiciously for
a moment, but the latter busied himself

with some syringes at a small table. An- .

thony spoke in Italian.
“We got to get out of here.”
“How?” The brother’s voice was eager.
“T don’t know yet. We got to make
a break for it.”
That was enough for “Doctor” Canevieri.
Anthony couldn’t be too sick if he could

80

discuss plans for a break. Te was taken
out of bed, dressed and taken to Police
Headquarters to face the line-up. William
remained in the hospital, still receiving

treatment for the gunshot wound in his .

leg, which had’ been inflicted by Patrol-
man Maher.

The darkened gymnasium on the top
floor of Police Headquarters on Centre
Street was crewded with detectives gath-
ered from all parts of the city and victims
of fifty-four previous stickups. The stage
was bathed in brilliant light. Its only
decorations were a microphone anda white
height chart that ran the entire length
of the platform.

The prisoner was brought in through a
side door and helped up a short flight of
steps leading to the stage. He’ walked
out into the glare, staring stupidly about
him. Hands shoved him toward the micro-
phone. Inspector Donovan, seated on a
high stool with a single electric light
glowing over the papers before him, said:

(Photo by Courtesy of New York “Daily Mirror’)
Officers hold the arms of Anthony
Esposito as they lead him away after.

the fatal holdup

“Anthony Esposito, alias Joseph De-
Stefano”—DeStefano is the name_ the
killer gave when he was arrested, but his
fingerprints told the true story—“you are
charged with homicide. You are thirty-
five, and live at 424 East Thirteenth

Street. A bench warrant charges you-

with murder in the first degree during the
commission of a payroll robbery.”
The prisoner snorted, but did not speak.
“You shot and killed Alfred Klausman

and took $649 from him,” Inspector Dono-

van continued. “You acted in concert with
your brother William, who while fleeing
from the scene shot and killed Patrolman
Edward Maher. What have you to say?”

A snarl twisted the killer’s face. ‘The
cops hit me,” he said.

“Why did you kill that man?”

Again Anthony snarled. This time it
was more like a sneer.

“Step aside,” Inspector Donovan or-
dered.

Hands shoved him to the opposite side
of the platform.

Four persons stepped forward to identify
him as one of the men who had _ held
them up. This work was purely academic,
for it was certain that Anthony would
never be tried for any of these crimes.
His first trial would be fer. murder, and
there was little doubt as to the outcome.

The crimes in which these witnesses .

identified him were: On July 23rd, 1940,
Ernest Belmont, jewelry salesman, robbed
of a large quantity of silverware, on his
way home from the Flushing Railroad

Station,

On September 4th, 1940, his wife Mrs.
Grace Belmont robbed in her home at
35-15 166th Street, Flushing, of $375.

In October, 1940, the $1,200 payroll ,

robbery of the Glovetex Manufacturing
Company, 33 East Thirty-third Street.
Lr is one block south of the murder
spot.

On November 19th, 1940, the robbery
of a $2,000 payroll from Jesse Gelles as
he stepped out of the Manufacturers’
Trust Company Branch at Thirty-fourth
Street and Fifth Avenue? : This was the
same corner from which Klausman had
picked up his payroll.

The case brought forth a storm of
criticism—all of it directed at the Parole
Board, as both killers were “graduates”
from its institution. Why were these
two permitted to roam the streets of New
York for more than four years? Why
had William been paroled in the first
place? His whole history, every proba-
tion report on him, showed that he was
a ‘confirmed outlaw and that time could
only make him worse.’ One high official
wondered if the aim in paroling William
was to rehabilitate him, because he was
returned to the very sphere—his crime-
steeped family—which produced his de-
linquency pattern in the first place.

It is only: fair at ‘this point to give

- the State Parole Board’s answer, which

was, that out of the 8,000 parolees in

: the preceding year only ninety-one com-

mitted felonies after their release.
Assistant District Attorney Rosenblum

set the wheels of justice in motion with

record-breaking speed,-for-less than twenty-

-four hours after the slayings, William ,and

Anthony Esposito were indicted for murder
in the first degree. The brothers would
go. to trial on the Klausman killing, as
both could be tried jointly on:that charge.

Working’ with characteristic thorough-

- néss the Prosecutor rounded.up more than

100 witnesses, including Mary Rowe, the
26-year-old brunette waitress who, accord-
ing to her statements to the police had

been living with Anthony Esposito 4n a

West Side flat.

Their crimes had been committed with
such callousness that they filled people
everywhere with revulsion.

UT cunning and guile had not deserted

the brothers. When Anthony was taken
into the Court of General Sessions for
a hearing before Judge Jonah J. Gold-
stein, he rolled his eyes wildly, sang
snatches of songs, recited bits of* nursery
rhymes and, in answer to the Judge’s
questions, stammered nonsense. He then
lapsed into silence, staring vacuously
about the courtroom. This same “in-
sanity” descended on William, still lying
in the “Cage” at Bellevue Hospital.

Justice was wasting no time in send-
ing him to his penalty. Judge Goldstein’s
court convened at the hospital bedside
for the hearing. The killer silently ignored
the proceedings, spoke only once and then
in words that made no sense:

“When I get my sword back T’ll square
up things,” he said.

This is the status of the case as these
lines are written: Leonard Weisberg, the
brave taxicab driver, aided by blood trans-
fusions donated by members of the Police
Department, is well on the way to com-
plete recovery. The police charity fund
has given him $1,100, while James ¥,
Walters, president of the De Soto Sky-
view Manufacturing Company, has pre-
sented him a brand-new cab.

William and Anthony Esposito will prob-
ably enter insanity defenses. They will
get a speedy day in court because the
prosecution is seeking a time record be-
tween crime and punishment.

MASTER DETECTIVE

aaa ata.

ACCOUNTS
ing, Proper,
Bookkeepin:
MERCIAL A!
plication ;
Tables, How
bers, Inter
Laws in the
of Her Terri:
sessions, |:
Compound

HOW Tc
Although 7*+
sold for $5.00
Now you can
$1.95 postpaic
and your co
mail. Act Né
BART?

205 Evst 42nd -


:

Strangely missing for two months,
Rosemary Spezzo (inset) was found
in woods, her body decomposed.

Suspect, being fingerprinted, was caught across
the continent and returned to New York where he
was grilled and grilled, till murder story came out.

/

ind Killed Her Again

In’t cope by ART FLETCHER Of such situations are dreams tenderly conceived,
gas : , only to be blasted by future revelations. Girls can’t
O ONE in his right mind would have dreamed get a police-check on the men who take them out,

fer name that Rosemary Spezzo, a petite and:pretty bru- and there is no FBI for hopeful females to turn to
nette who taught third-grade in a parochial school, and find out if a suitor is the real McCoy. Girls take
could be attracted to a married man with a family. - fierce pride in their powers of intuition, and thus a
But Rosemary was twenty-four and impressionable, man’s credentials are his looks and manners, and
while the darkly handsome man in question never the fine words the yearning girl desperately wants to
did tell her that he was a husband and a father. believe.

DETECTIVE CASES 19

ae NRERNERA
is at


PROFESSIONAL

INVESTIGATORS
MAKE GOOD MONEY!

Former Police Officials Train You

For a New and Exciting Career
TT ‘=! Are you getting tired of doing the same

dull work every day — find yourself in
a routine rut? Stop wasting time —
MAKE A CHANGE RIGHT NOW. A
group of nationally known Police Chiefs
will train you by mail for a career in
INVESTIGATIVE AND POLICE SCI-
ENCE, in the comfort of your own
home. You can open up new avenues of
travel and excitement, meet interesting
people and MAKE GOOD MONEY,
TOO! This fully recognized and graded
self-study course may give you a new
lease on life . . . and graduates can
become paid correspondents in the in-
ternational network of the North Amer-
ican Detective Agency’s force.

WRITE FOR FREE BROCHURE NOW —
GET SET FOR A NEW CAREER!

North American Institute of Police Science |

608 S. Dearborn St. Dept. BG Chicago 5, III.

|MAN & WIFE TEAM

If you have a camera, you can earn the
kind of money you have always dreamed
of. Complete Literature $1.00.

a ARTEK, Dept.-1223,

3 836 N. FAIRFAX, HOLLYWOOD 28, CALIF.

a ain

(PX Prtss PHOTOGRAPHER BADGE

Immediate identification ...$3.98 pestpas
Police emergencies, beauty contests, parades,
sports events, theaters, night clubs, etc. Pro-
fessional Badge made of heavy polished
$3.98 postpaid.
Genuine leather Badge Case with 1.0. Card. $2.50
C.0.D.’s require $1.00 deposit.
FREE WITH ORDER ONLY... Complete catalog
of Police, Detective Equipment
POLICE EQUIPMENT CO.Dept. 1223,

5680 Holiyweed Bivd., Hellyweed 28. Calif.

knew he had entered the room. But being ©
strong, she freed herself from his grasp
“and started striking, biting, and scratch-
ing. Afraid that she might call out, he
tried to stop her mouth with bedclothes.
But this he found impossible; for when
she saw that he was using all his strength
to work her shame, she did as much .”

This is not fiction; it’s a true experience,
thinly veiled, one of 17 such diversions...
In THE QUEEN OF CAPER you get the
best of the Heptameron by French Queen
Margaret of Navarre. She pictures life
intimately, without inhibitions. She bares
ita raw comedy and violent passions. She

les before you hoaxing husbands, wily
, and lovers especially —in many
poses and posturings.

THE QUEEN OF CAPER boasts an
untampered text and 43 pictures, many of
them full-page. . . . Guaranteed to please
or your money back. Send $2 or pay
postman cost plus postage.

Plaza Beek Co., Dept. 0-248
108 Broad St., Non tort 4, N.Y.

Yonkers, New York—in Portland, Ore-
gon. State troopers were alerted to
watch for this auto, and on the 11th
it was spotted near Tillamook, Oregon,
after an officer chased a speeding car.
The driver had no registration for the
auto, claimed he had left it at home.

“This car was stolen two days ago,”
the trooper snapped. “Where’s your own
license?”

The form was handed over to the
officer. It was a license made out to
an Edward Eckwerth, of New York.

“You Eckwerth?”

“That’s right,” the driver said smooth-
ly. “I tell you, officer, I bought this car
back East more than a month ago.”

“Okay,” the officer shrugged. “We'll
go into headquarters and check on it.
If it’s a mistake, you’re safe.”

HE man who was detained as Ed-

ward Eckwerth apparently had
much to fear. The car, shown to the
Portland owner who'd lost his, was
quickly identified as the stolen vehicle.
Eckwerth, booked for car theft, was
held in $5,000 bail. He advised police
he had only $5 on his person. They
advised him he’d have to sit in jail, in
Portland, until his case came to trial.

Justice moves slowly sometimes.
Court calendars are heavy these days.
Time in jail, for the accused car thief,
likewise was heavy. He sweated from
July to the middle of August, nearly a
month. He finally sat down with pencil
and paper and wrote a letter. It arrived
in Mount Vernon’s post office on Au-
gust 18th, and was quickly spotted by
a postal inspector. He recalled that a
police check had been placed on all
mail headed toward this Mount Vernon
address. He promptly contacted West-
chester District Attorney Joseph Gag-
liardi. The return address, “Multuno-
mah County Jail, Oregon,” led Gag-
liardi to call District Attorney William
Langley, of Portland. Gagliardi advised
Langley that Edward Eckwerth was
wanted in New York on a larceny war-
rant, and for questioning in connection
with the disappearance of Rosemary
Spezzo.

District Attorney Langley questioned
the prisoner on Monday morning, Au-
gust 21st. The man booked as Eckwerth
said he was Edward Eckwerth, and ad-
mitted guilt in the theft of $268 from
the Newark coffee company.

“What do you know about Rosemary
Spezzo?” Langley pressed.

Eckwerth paled. “I told the cops
back there what I know. Sure, I talked
with her that day last June when she
disappeared. And I gave her a lift in
the truck. But I dropped her off down-
town and never saw her again.”

“You left Yonkers in a hurry,” Lang-
ley said. “The day after she disappear-
ed. You left a wife and child behind,
and you stole your company’s money
to get away from there. Why?”

“I have a long record, figure it out
from there,” Eckwerth said. “This girl
takes a powder or something happens
to her. So it’s my lousy luck I see her
that day. The cops look at my history
and they pin it all on me. I decided to

avoid all that. I got a train to New =
York, a bus to Chicago, another bus to =

Seattle.”
“You traveled alone?”

“No,” Eckwerth said. “There was a =

girl, a school-teacher. {1 got friendly with

her. She was from Minnesota, headed |

for Portland for some education meet-
ing. We decided to go together. We

stayed in motels in Spokane, Portland, ~

other towns. You can check back
through them. I wasn’t traveling with
that Spezzo girl.”

Langley assured Eckwerth the check
would be made. He obtained the name
of the Minnesota teacher and contacted
her through relatives. The girl at first
denied she had traveled as Eckwerth’s
companion, then she realized the

charges against him were serious and

admitted it was all just as the former
coffee salesman had said.

This information was flashed back to
Yonkers, to District Attorney Gagliardi.
He wasn’t completely convinced that

Eckwerth was out of the picture. “His .

girl friend alibis Eckwerth from the
time he ditched the truck, perhaps, to
the time he arrived in Portland. There’s
still ait open spot in his story—what
happened from the time he and Rose-
mary got into the truck until he ditched
it at the train station?”

Gagliardi contacted Portland officials,
requesting that the auto theft charge
against the suspect on the West Coast
be dropped and extradition be granted
for “the suspect’s larceny offense in
Yonkérs? “He’s liable to a long sentence
here bécause he’s got a previous record.
And we can also investigate him re-
garding the Spezzo case.” ot

Arrangements were made for extra-
dition, Eckwerth waived the official
requirements, and by _ ten-forty-five
Tuesday night, August 22nd, he was in
Westchester, undergoing interrogation
by Gagliardi and Captain Dominico.
He repeated the story he had told in
Portland, insisting he was innocent.

Charges against him for larceny and
fraudulent check writing held him in
Yonkers jail, however, with August 31st
set as the date for sentencing in the
check offense, which Eckwerth ad-
mitted.

He was taken, under heavy guard,
back over his trail from Yonkers to
New York City. He was asked to detail
his trip to Chicago. As the sleuths
quizzed him, one or two minor items
in his various statements conflicted.
They returned him to Yonkers jail and
continued grilling him. By one P.M.,
Saturday, August 26th, Eckwerth had
entangled himself in a web of incon-
sistent statements. He was asked to ex-

plain these, and he finally said, “I want _

to see my wife and daughter!”

Detective Hoffarth shrugged.
they want to see you?”

“Let me see my wife and daughter,”
Eckwerth pleaded. “I’ll show you where
the body lies!”

For two months the word police and
the girl’s relatives had feared had been
uttered. Body! “You mean Rosemary
Spezzo’s body?” Detective Sergeant
Christopher asked the suspect.

“Do

“Yes,”
Police
witness t
willing tc
his famii
intimate \
eral occa:
the after:
driven ar.
a private
party,” E
quilt and
put them
sat down
From
things ha
Rosemar\
love secr
vorce hi:
argued, !
struck h«
conscious
to kill he
That hap

CKW
the

feet into
smashed
until he
took $2¢
the purs
gitl’s fat
ment, ask
had reali
He decid:
cash the
disappeai

A poli
isolated <
of Jacks
werth lec
patch of
posed bc
Victoria
vised tha
to deterr
for the
threw aw

ie Shp

NUDE ¢

(Continu

or by p

denials v
sleuths ti
- They

friend M
going to
slayer. \
who live
know, t

~ into the

ed.
N the

comt
woman’s
away fr
their ele:

‘ber of a
tom, not


Ovas wodly with

“-e serious and

train to New q
another bus to a

'e was a |

nesota, headed
ducation meet-
together. We
<ane, Portland,
check back
traveling with

erth the check
ined the name
and contacted
he girl at first
as Eckwerth’s
realized the

as the former 7%

lashed back to
ney Gagliardi.
onvinced that
» picture. “His
‘th from the
k, perhaps, to
rtland. There’s
is story—what
he and Rose-
atil he ditched

‘tland officials,
theft charge

ie West Coast
on he granted
| ense in
| _ sentence
evious record.
igate him re-

ide for extra-
i the official
ten-forty-five
nd, he was in
interrogation
in Dominico.
> had told in
innocent.

t larceny and
‘held him in
1 August 31st
‘ncing in the
‘ckwerth ad-
y
heavy guard,
- Yonkers to
sked to detail
the sleuths
minor items
Ss conflicted.
kers jail and _
y one P.M.,
ckwerth had
2b of incon-
asked to ex-
aid, “I want

srl”?

igged. “Do
J ghter,”
vy you where

1 police and
*d had been
1 Rosemary
e Sergeant
ct.

“Yes,” Eckwerth said. “Her body.”

Police officials gathered at the jail to
witness the statement Eckwerth was
willing to give in exchange for seeing
his family. He claimed he had been
intimate with Rosemary Spezzo on sev-
eral occasions and when he met her on
the afternoon of June 22nd they had
driven around in the truck looking for
a private spot. “We planned a necking
party,” Eckwerth said. “I had a blue
quilt and plastic cover in the truck. I
put them down on the ground, and we
sat down.”

From this point, Eckwerth claimed,
things had grown most pleasant. Then
Rosemary said she was through making
love secretly. She insisted that he di-
vorce his wife and marry her. They
argued. He finally became angry and
struck her—punched until she fell un-
conscious. “I suddenly decided I had
to kill her. She had become a nuisance.
That happens with a lot of women.”

CKWERTH told police he dragged

the girl’s unconscious form fifty
feet into a thicket of woods. He then
smashed her head with a large rock
until he was certain she was dead. He
took $26 from her purse, and hurled
the purse into the woods. When the
girl’s father had called at his apart-
ment, asking about Rosemary, Eckwerth
had realized he’d been seen with her.
He decided to steal the company money,
cash the worthless check, and try to
disappear.

A police car caravan drove out to an
isolated spot a quarter of a mile south
of Jackson Avenue, Greenburgh. Eck-
werth led police to a tree, where, in a
patch of bushes, lay the badly decom-
posed body of a young woman. Dr.
Victoria Bradess, medical examiner, ad-
vised that an autopsy would be required
to determine cause of death. A hunt
for the purse Eckwerth claimed he
threw away turned up a black handbag,

NUDE CORPSE IN LAGOON
(Continued from page 21)

or by phone—on Saturday night. Her
denials were so convincing that the FBI
sleuths turned her loose.

They were convinced, too, that the
friend Margaret Fitzwater said she was
going to meet that night was also her
slayer. Whether this was, the oldtimer
who lived on the houseboat, they didn’t
know, but an intensive investigation
into the man’s background was launch-
ed.

N the meantime, a crew of navy men,
combing the Lagoon, found the
woman’s red hat floating some distance
away from the houseboat. Although
their electro-magnet picked up a num-
ber of articles from the Lagoon’s bot-
tom, nothing resembling a sharp-pointed

thirty yards from the corpse. It con-
tained a driver’s license and insurance
papers bearing the name of Rosemary
Spezzo. The story Eckwerth told of
murder was horribly true. The story he
told of illicit love could not have been
true by any stretch of imagination.

The autopsy revealed that Rosemary
Spezzo had fought desperately with
her attacker before she died of a frac-
tured skull. She had not submitted to
his romantic demands, but had died
fighting him off.

The girl’s mother, completely shat-
tered by news of her daughter’s death,
had one consolation, however small. “I
feel proud of her,” Mrs. Spezzo sobbed.
“She fought him and. was killed.”

Eckwerth continued to maintain that
he had had an affair with Rosemary,
but his purpose was quite clear. He was
seeking to fix a base for a defense—a
crime of passion—which would free
him of a first-degree murder charge
and the menace of the electric chair.
If he had killed the girl impulsively
during a scrap about their illicit love
affair, it would not be charged as pre-
mediatated or first-degree murder. If
he had killed her in the course of a
rape attempt it was clearly murder in
the first degree, the penalty for which
is death.

Before the grand jury on August
28th, Eckwerth was asked to change or
correct any lies he might have previ-
ously included in his. Systatement. The
downcast suspect said;: “It’s all over.
Why should I lie now? Tei is 'first- -degree
murder. I’ll go to the electric chair.”

On February Sth, 1957, the twelve

jury members confirmed Eckwerth’s

prediction by finding him guilty as
charged—murder, first degree. The
Casanova who at last had met a girl
who refused to love him, despite the
menace of death, was slated for a
special date—in the Death House. He

kept that date on May 22nd, 1959. >

knife was discovered.

Dr. Rosenberg’s autopsy corroborated
his original surmise that the knife wound
in the neck had brought on death. He
found no water in the lungs, which pre-
cluded drowning. Evidence of criminal
assault before death was discovered.

Publication of the victim’s picture in
subsequent editions of the capital’s
newspapers brought a number of tele-
phone calls from persons who believed
they had seen Mrs. Fitzwater Saturday
night. All were carefully investigated,
but only one turned out to be worth-
while.

A clerk in the Treasury Department
and a part time worker in a restaurant
at the Virginia end of the Fourteenth
Street bridge made a sensational dis-
closure to the FBI agents.

According to this woman, Margaret
Fitzwater had visited the restaurant
about ten o’clock Saturday night in the
company of a youth in uniform who

FULL OR PART TIME!

No experience necessary, no investment,
daily cash commission. Big steady earn-
ings, repeat business. Be a direct repre-
sentative of the world’s largest exclusive
manufacturer of advertising Book
Matches. Every business a prospect for
new Tenorama, Glamour Girls, Hillbillies,
safety series and dozens of other styles.
All sizes, 20, 30, 40 stick matches. New
FREE Master Sales Kit makes selling
easy. WRITE TODAY for full details.

SUPERIOR MATCH CO.
Dept. H-862. 7530 S. GREENWOOD, CHICAGO 19 |
TE PT RD PPLE AT ITO RT

LIVE SEAHORSES |
Order a pair of MATED LIVE SEA
HORSES from Fiz. Supply of foo:
our catalog and simple instructions «
how to raise these fascinating a
creatures of the deep. All you ng
a jar, bowl or aquarium. Every
oung or old enjoys = the

Scare movements for hours. hos
tional, Interesting, and Hardy.
anteed Live Dolivery——Ate Mall Pos
paid a $7.00 SPECIA!
Order Qo Paik “and receive anoth
PAIR FREE.
F. F. MARINE LIFE
P.0. Box 626-A0 Dania, F :

|
* _ Birth Certificates
% Marriage Certificates
ef High School Diplomas »&

al size blank forms. Space for 5
date. Use for. origins or Seman t conke
= ae. wal 3 only $5.

‘NATIONAL FORMS,
P.O. Box 7072-B. Miami

ARTHRITIS

Please write for my free information

I am an arthritic and am only too familiar Ww
the physical misery and emotional despair of —
complaint. I tried so many things. Then one da’
friend in pharmacal circles told me about a wond
ful medicine for giving hours-long relief in eas
the minor pains and soreness of arthritis, rheur
tism, neuralgia, neuritis, lumbago or bursitis.
I am so grateful I want to tell everyone ab:
Norkon and my whole remarkable experience é
how thousands of others are now praising it, t
Please write for full information. It costs noth
and you may win so much. No obligation what
ever. Just send your name and address to:

Paul McCoy, Apt. 609 11 W 42 St. Ne

@TELL FORTUNE:

Your own... Your friend

With your uhenite cards. Th
fortune teller’s secret meaning:
Printed on stickers for each cor
with layout chart.

Only $1.00, U.S. or Con. — Ne C.0.:

| SATCHA eaccee

BE TALLER

New scientific method wilt add inches to your
present height, even after maturity. Results
positively guaranteed. Send for FREE literature
and information.

Height Increase Institute Dept. BD-1
G.P.O. Box 1902, N. Y. 1, N. Y

LONG WEARING VINYL

HOODED =,
RAIN JACKET |

with PARKA HOOD

Ke one in your car, golf
bees. & office. Lightweight,
compact! Fits in your pocket.
Finger-tip le
FULLY WATERPROOF

Seams heat sealed. Colors:
Grey, Green ee Red.
Sizes S, M, L, Women’s
sizes too.

$1. 75

MATCHING DRAIN oe plod ig

set o
* 2, Be r 2*tets $5.00
Goodwear Rainsuits

P.O. Box 264 Dept. R.J. 51
FARMINGDALE, L. 1., N. ¥~

Fishing

— ae 25¢ post-
handiing.
Beater naatstes
invited

eon

ECKWERTH, Edward, white, elec. NYSP (Westchester) May 22, 1959

ae

He Killed Her—-and K

She was tiny—hardly an armful—but the big-shot lover boy couldn’t cope

with her ... Furious, he killed her. . . Vicious, he tried to dirty her name N
Bi
' Ww!

ghee oe CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES


DON’T PUT ME IN WITH HIM continued f

The “everything” Proved to be one of the most j
brutally rotten and vicious stories the police had i
ever heard.
' The two men, penniless and threatened with
being locked out of ‘their hotel room, had gone
out to Coney Island with the Specific intent of
robbing someone. They had wandered along the
boardwalk until they spotted a lone fisherman
far out on one of the stone piers. His car was
parked nearby. It was still too light and there
7 too many people around to risk attacking

im at that time, but Connors and Edwards could
wait. They kept their eyes on him, like hawks
circling a choice turkey. By 10:30 that night the
time was ripe.

They had been watching their man from a
restaurant about four blocks away where they
had spent their last 20 cents on two cups of cof-
fee. Now they started back toward the seawall,
walking slowly, taking their time, to where the
man was still surf-casting.

“I’m going down there and kill me a man Vir-
ginia style,” Connors quoted Edwards as saying.

“Virginia style?” the ‘detective interrupted.
“What the devil is that?” '

“Mugging,” Connors explained. “You sneak up

ind a guy and break his neck,”

The officers exchanged twin looks of disgust.

“Ernie walked out onto the jetty alone. He was
carrying a piece of iron pipe behind him. When

The manacled youth led them along the salt washed granite
block until they came to a great slop of reddish-brown stain,

he got to t!
head.”

“So wha
detecti

line and di
The stok
to Howard
lyn. A phor
in the inf
worried wi
ing out to
failed to r
daughter a:
ning. He w
left about ‘
When th
son for the
and then
was a mec!
in Farming
house in L
near his w
crime swep
Howard wo
* little three
body was


IM! continued x i. ~ erie 2 ; é ‘ |

ie of the most ? ‘ Pera 2d, ee eaten ages , ba |
he police had : “ok : : i SS a

ceatened with
om, had gone
ific intent of
red along the
ne fisherman .
His car was a ; ~<a bag cee

‘ht and there Pi oad \ Te ng 8 x we 2 Ea Spee ee ae | |
risk attacking ee sda ag ne oe LN NaS vr Noon : -tahi |
-dwards could Sets. toe Peet ie aye tt Pang at ak « ; reat

1, like hawks

hat night the

man from a
where they
cups of cof-
1 the seawall,
to where the

e a man Vir-
ds as saying.
interrupted.

fou sneak up

s of disgust.
lone. He was
1 him. When

rx

Eight feet above the water at the

edge of the huge rock, ‘bludgeoned, trussed in fishing line and shoved into the sea.

Navy divers went down at once, found fishing pole, wrist
watch and fishing light. but no sign of the missing angler.

om the jetty.

he got to the fellow, he smashed the pipe over his
head.”

“Sq what dial you get for all your trouble?” the
detective asked, loathing thick in his voice. ©

“We weren’t after money, so much,” Connors
said. “We wanted his car. Ernie took the car
keys, and a buck out of the wallet. That’s all
there was. Then he bound’ the fellow with fish
line and dumped him off the pier.”

The stolen car had been identified as belonging
to Howard Englander of Ashford Road in Brook-
lyn. A phone call to Brooklyn police soon brought
in the information from Englander’s extremely
worried wife, Iris, that Englander had gone fish-
ing out toward Sheepshead Bay that day and
failed to return. “We were with him, my little
daughter and I,” she, said, “for awhile this eve-
ning. He was showing Carol how to cast. But we
left about 8:30.”

When the Brooklyn officers explained thg rea-
son for their visit there was a momentary silence
and then sobs. Mrs. Englander said her husband
was a mechanic at the Republic ‘Aviation Corp.
in Farmingdale, L. I. “We. . . we just bought a
house in Levittown;” she said, “so he could be
near his work.” Suddenly the enormity of the
crime swept over her. Big, genial, black haired
Howard would never be coming home to her and

» little three-and-a-half-year-old Carol again. His
body was somewhere off Manhattan Beach.

continued on next page

Tee We aT Ie eee RE age 3 tear a mee

24

DON’T PUT ME IN WITH HIM continued

“We were so happy,” she said. “We were going to move into
our new home next Monday. Somehow I knew,” she said with
a stifled sob, “somehow I just felt that house was never going
to be lived in by us.”

The Brooklyn officers were still not certain of the extent of
the crime with which they were dealing, but they transferred
their information back to Manhattan where Connors was still
shifting uncomfortably in a chair in the police station, and
casting furtive glances at the door through which Emest Ed-
wards had been led several hours earlier. :

“Big deal you and your thick-headed friend pulled off,” one
of the detectives said. “You sneaked up behind a defenseless
fellow, a man who’s always minded his own business, married,
has a little three-year-old girl and just bought a house. You
killed him for a five-hour joy ride and a buck . . .”

“T didn’t do it,” Connors whined. “It was him.” His head
jerked spasmodically in the direction of the other room. “He’s
done it before. Philadelphia, Newport News. Virginia style he
calls it, cracks their spines. Don’t put me in with him.”

“Wait a minute,” the detective said. “You mean there’ve
been other murders . . . other Virginia styles?” ‘

Connors ran his tongue over his lips. “Yeah, yeah: Same
thing in Philadelphia, down in Virginia. I don’t even know
their names. Neither does he. Just muggings.” jah i?

The detective put through phone calls to police in Phila-
delphia and Newport News, Va., but neither place had any
record of unsolved murders that could be pinned to muggings
of this nature, although authorities in Newport News said
they knew Connors as a small-time hoodlum who had served
time for burglary and Edwards was thought to be a burglar
escapee from the Virginia State Farm.

As soon as it was light, Connors and Edwards were loaded -

into a police car and driven out to the Coney Island police
station where they were questioned.
Edwards remained sullenly silent throughout the trip. But
Connors talked amiably. if ;
“Think you can find the spot again?” Connors was asked.
. The younger of the two men shifted uncomfortably and
nodded.

OLICE so far had been willing to go along with this swivel-

tongued youth who talked glibly of murders in Philadelphia
and Newport News primarily because they knew his pal
wouldn’t open up. But they weren’t buying his story com-
pletely. Englander’s wedding ring and wallet had both been
found in Connors’ pocket. And even though he showed 4 will-
ingness to talk and a mortal fear of Edwards, police consid-
ered it possible that he was more deéply implicated than just
as a bystander who had watched Edwards perform the vicious
act of murder.

Nonetheless, when Edwards was approached, he only glow-
ered at the officers and said, “I want a lawyer.” It didn’t mat-
ter to police whether Connors was telling the truth or not. He,
at least, was talking. :

The police car moved slowly out along the stretch of road
that backs the biggest playland in the world. Except for the
mechanics: who were bent over the intricate mechanisms that
powered the Merry-Mix-Ups, the roller coasters and.the para-
chute jumps, and a few concessionaires who had arrived early
to restock their day’s supply of hot dogs and rolls, the beach
was deserted. . }

The official party rolled on past the amusement park until
it reached Hastings Street, not far from a former. veterans’
housing project near Manhattan Beach. “This’s about right;”
Connors said, inching forward to the edge of the car seat. “I

The _ close-mouthed Edwards, whose lawyer says he was
“asleep” when murder occurred, steps from police van.

think the restaurant where we stopped is in here some place.”

Manacled and closely guarded; he led the officer to the
water’s edge and out onto a huge granite block that jutted
into the ocean. The salt-water washed stone glared whitely
bright in the sun, but the shackled youth had taken only a few
steps when he stopped beside a great slop of reddish-brown
stain, leading away from which were several bits of bloodied
footprints. : i

Photographers were instructed to get photos of these prints
and Connors’ shoes were removed and sent, along with Ed-
wards’, to the laboratory for comparison.

In his stocking feet, Connors moved back onto the granite
block. “Here, right here,” he said, gesturing with his cuffed
hands. “Slugged him, trussed him with the fish line and
shoved him over.”

There was enough blood on the ledge to indicate that Eng-
lander could never have survived the beating, but looking
down into the black waters that surged against the jetty, po-
lice knew they might never recover the body. ~

The harbor police, a helicopter and three Navy divers were
pressed into service. A fishing pole, the light which Englander
had worn on his cap and a wristwatch belonging to him were
recovered, but the body could not be located. The massive
granite block on which the-assault had taken place rose about
eight feet above water level and it was considered possible
that Englander’s body had caught on the rocky shoals below.
The other, and more discouraging theory, was that Englander
had been carried out to seaon the fast-running tide. The heli-
copter made wide sweeping forays out into the ocean,’ but.
there was no trace of the missing fisherman. ;

The. two suspects were returned (Continued on page 83)

Recently i

Feeling tex


r says he was
»m police van.

2re some place.”
e officer to the
ock that jutted
: glared whitely
aken only a few
f reddish-brown
dits of bloodied

of these prints
along with Ed-

nto the granite
with his cuffed
fish line and

icate that Eng-
ig, but looking
t the jetty, po-

ivy divers were
hich Englander
ng to him were
1. The massive
lace rose about
idered possible
y shoals below.
that Englander
tide. The heli-
"ocean, but

: page 83)

Recently informed that the victim’s body had been found, Connors and Edwards appear for hearing on assauly. charge.

Feeling temporarily secure with a brace of officers behind him, Connors stands beside

sae

man he doesn’t want to be celled with.

25


hs

direction of the diner. Despite this the
diner employes, peering out, were able to
see two more men in the machine which
sped off toward Binghamton.

“Call the state police!” the cook said
excitedly. “Maybe they can head those
fellows off!”

The frantically telephoned message
sent the New York state police, who
flashed an alarm to the Binghamton au-
thorities, into immediate action. But
whether by unusual cunning or sheer luck
the bandits succeeded in eluding the trap.

Detective Capt. Otto J. Krause, of
Binghamton, and Trooper Fred L. Wa-
terman, of the Sidney barracks, state
police, sped immediately to Vestal.

The owner of the diner had been sum-
moned from his Binghamton home. “They
got twenty-nine dollars. in one-dollar
bills,” he told the officers, “but they over-
looked thirty dollars more in another
compartment.”

The cook and counterman were able
to give the officers an excellent descrip-
tion of the bandit leader: Age, 20; height,
five feet eight inches; weight, about 160;
hair, sandy and worn long; clothing,
light suit, tan shoes and gray sports coat.

“That’s the same mug who’s been stick-
ing up all those Binghamton places!”
observed Krause.

He took the diner witnesses to Bing-
hamton so they could look over police
pictures of known criminals, but neither
man could recognize the thug.

“Then he’s a newcomer!” snapped
Krause. “Or an amateur going in for a
whirl at banditry. We’ll get him sure if
he keeps it up.”

Gang Escapes

"[SHERE had been six holdups in a
week in Binghamton, Johnson City
and Endicott. In all cases a blond bandit,
accompanied by two other youths, had
been responsible.

Lacking a definite lead, the state police
broadcast a teletype alarm for him and
the Binghamton detectives kept a closer
squad car patrol on the streets at night.
But the blond bandit leader and his com-
panions apparently had made good their
temporary escape.

The diner robbery occurred on Aug.
25, 1941.

Time passed and the scene shifted.

On Friday afternoon, Oct. 10, at Cro-
ton, N. Y., 150 miles south of Bingham-
ton, a motorcycle patrolman, Paul Moore,
of the state police, saw something so un-
usual that he stopped to investigate.

Dense smoke was issuing from between
the air vents in a parked Oldsmobile.
Moore braked his cycle, turned in the
highway and proceeded back to the
machine.

A blond youth sat behind the wheel,
holding 4 large photograph in his left
hand. In his right, directly under the
photograph, he held a lighted match.

For some strange reason he was try-
ing to burn a hole in the picture.

“What’s going on here?” Moore de-
manded curiously.

The blond youth turned his eyes toward
the officer, hesitated momentarily, then

36

A juvenile delinquent of long stand-
ing. this youth, after being paroled
from a reformatory, embarked on a
career of crime which ended in the
brutal slaying of a man who had
befriended him.

calmly blew out the match. At the same
time he dropped the scorched picture to
the floor at his feet.

“T’m just trying to burn this photo-
graph,”-he explained. ©

Moore got off his cycle. “No kidding!
‘What’s the idea ?”

The youth merely looked at him
insolently, so Moore snapped out his
notebook. “Let me see your registra-
tion !”

The driver grinned. “Sure. It’s right
here in the compartment.”

So saying, he slid along the seat, reach-
ing for the glove compartment with his
left hand. But his right, unnoticed by the
officer, moved down to the door handle
on the opposite side.

Suddenly the youth had whisked the
door open, jumped out and darted into the
dense wood beside the road.

The trooper ran around the car, but
the suspect was out of sight. Pursuit
through the thick timbers was out of the
question.

Moore stopped the next passing ma-
chine and ordered the driver to call the
Troop K barracks at Hawthorne, while
he stood guard over the car.

The big Oldsmobile, which bore Penn-
sylvania license plates, was towed to the
barracks and inspected. In addition to
the charred photograph, which was a pic-
ture of “Stan Cermak and his Orchestra,”
according to.a printed caption on the
bottom, the machine’s compartment con-
tained numerous papers.

There were social security and employ-

‘ment cards under the name of “James E.

Wallace,”' an automobile registration
made out to “August W. Bitters of Chi-
cago,” and draft papers under the name
“Albert Trudgeon of Los Angeles.”

. But no Pennsylvania registration card,

corresponding with the car’s plates, was
found.

Then Trooper Moore, making out his
report, remembered a teletype message
received in August from Binghamton.
He sought this in the file and read the
description of the wanted bandit closely.
“That’s the guy,” he muttered.

Telephone contact was made with the
upstate Sidney barracks. Inspector
Ernest Maynard and Sergt. Leo C.
O’Hanley, attached to the state police
Bureau of Criminal Investigation, who
had been put in charge of the hunt for the
Vestal bandits, received Moore’s report,
jotting down the number of the Pennsyl-
vania plates.

“We'll send for the car,” Maynard
said. “Have it dusted carefully for finger-
prints. Meanwhile, we'll check on all
those names found in the glove compart-
ment papers.”

Telegrams were sent to Harrisburg,
Pa., Chicago and Los Angeles. The first
requested the name of the car’s owner;
the other two asked information about
“Bitters” and “Trudgeon.”

Then Maynard and O’Hanley went to
see the diner employes, giving them
Trooper Moore’s description of the Cro-
ton car driver.

“That’s the man all right,” they said.

Maynard and O’Hanley returned to
Sidney in time to receive a telegram from
the bureau of motor vehicle registry in
Harrisburg. The Pennsylvania machine
found in Croton, the message said, was
registered in the name of Paul Skaritza
of Great Bend, Pa. This was a small
town just over the New York state line,
between Binghamton and Scranton.

Musician Missing

RAAT NARS went to the telephone
and called the New Milford bar-
racks of the Pennsylvania motor police.
A few seconds later he cradled the re-
ceiver and turned to O’Hanley.

“This Skaritza has been missing since
October eighth, when his mother called
the New Milford police and asked them
to find him. He went off in his car that
night and never came back. Let’s run
down to New Milford.”

This was 12 miles from Binghamton

and not far from Great Bend. There a

mystery awaited the New York state
officers. /

Paul Skaritza, owner of the Croton
car, was 27 years old, dark, and weighed
approximately 185 pounds.

He was a film inspector for a pho-
tography supply company of Bingham-
ton and an amateur musician.

“Paul left here last Wednesday night
to attend the rehearsal in Binghamton,”
explained a relative. “He was dressed
in a blue suit, white shirt and black shoes,
but wore neither hat nor overcoat. He had
his trombone with him and thirty-five
dollars in salary in his pockets. Paul was
driving his black Oldsmobile sedan.
We're afraid something terrible has hap-
pened to him.”

Maynard was making notes in his
book.

“You say Paul was a musician and

played the tromb
chestra ?”

The woman ni
mak’s. They reh
Hall on Prospect

Maynard eyed
that the woman’
ter might very lil
the blond driver
burning a picture

Maynard refr
missing man’s re
mind, but outsic
O’Hanley, “I’m
Those bandits f
and stole his car
got more than jt
on our hands.”

Back in Bing
two more telegra
and Los Angel
“Bitters” and °
existent.

Sheriff Earl J. -
trict Attorney °
amine the bull
Sheriff Daniel:
killing. Below
the body was
the left are sec

cartridge «


car’s plates, was

making out his
eletype message
m Binghamton.
le and read the
d bandit closely.
ittered.

s made with the
acks. Inspector
Sergt. Leo C.
the state police
vestigation, who
f the hunt for the
Moore’s report,
r of the Pennsyl-

car,’ Maynard
-efully for finger-
“Il check on all
e glove compart-

t to Harrisburg,
ingeles. The first
the car’s owner:
aformation about
:on.”

>’Hanley went to
‘es, giving them
iption of the Cro-

right,” they said.
inley retirned to
‘ea telegram from
ehicle registry in
isylvania machine
nessage said, was
- of Paul Skaritza
This was a small
w York state line,
and Scranton.

Missing

to the telephone
Yew Milford bar-
ania motor police.
ie cradled the re-
)’Hanley.
been missing since
his mother called
ce and asked them
off in his car that
> back. Let’s run
from Binghamton
zat Bend. There a
New York state
aer of the Croton
dark, and weighed
nunds.
spector for a pho-
pany of Bingham-
musician.
t Wednesday night
ul in Binghamton,”
“He was dressed
iirt and black shoes.
or overcoat. He had
iim and. thirty-five
s pockets. Paul was
Oldsmobile sedan.
ng terrible has hap-

king notes in his

as a musician and

played the trombone? Was he in an or-
chestra ?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, Stan Cer-
mak’s. They rehearsed at the old Polish
Hall on Prospect street.”

Maynard eyed O’Hanley. Both knew
that the woman’s premonition of disas-
ter might very likely be justified. Had not
the blond driver of the Croton car been
burning a picture of Cermak’s orchestra?

Maynard refrained from telling the
missing man’s relatives what was on his
mind, but outside the house he said to
O’Hanley, “I’m afraid it’s the works.
Those bandits probably killed Skaritza
and stole his car for their holdups. We’ve
got more than just a few petty robberies
on our hands.”

Back in Binghamton they found that
two more telegrams had arrived. Chicago
and Los Angeles police reported that
“Bitters”? and “Trudgeon” were non-
existent. ;

Sheriff Earl J. Daniels, left, and Dis-
trict Attorney Daniel J. McAvoy ex-
amine the bullet and shell found by
Sheriff Daniels at the scene of the
killing. Below, X marks spot where
the body was found. The officers at
the left are searching for the ejected
cartridge case, a vital clue.

“Say, that blond bandit is no amateur,”
Maynard said. “He’s running around the
country with a lot of phony identifica-
tions.”

What started off as an investigation of
a $29 robbery appeared to be rapidly de-
veloping into a number of things—even
murder. A musician was missing and his
car was picked up 150 miles away, an-

other man behind the wheel. This man,
escaping the police, exactly fitted the de-
scription of the marauding Binghamton
bandit leader. He had been burning the
missing man’s picture in a group pho-
tograph.

What did it mean? Could Maynard’s

conjectures be correct? Had the blond

bandit killed Skaritza, seized his car for


igh I warned

kely answer.
made an un-
ing compan-

seemed to

his compan-

o Paul Skar-
itil Sunday,
danley were
from Haw-
BCI experts
Ke
‘as at a tem-
3, a man and
rely country
ood over the
of Windsor.

n lying about
1 the hiker,
ep or drunk,
o his horror,
vas stiff,

to telephone
’. Daniels in
ed the alarm
vatched Dep-
Xobert Cook,
‘oome county

They arrived shortly before Maynard,
O’Hanley, Corp. James C. Mahoney and
Trooper Donald McGranaghan, all of
the BCI.

The victim’s face was decomposed, but
letters in an inside coat pocket revealed
his identity as Paul Skaritza. According
to Dr. Stillson, who made a quick exam-
ination, the musician had been shot once
behind the right ear, the bullet emerg-
ing from the right temple. He had been
dead about four days.

A wound was found on the first finger
of Skaritza’s right hand, indicating to the
investigators that the victim had his
hands upraised when shot.

McGranaghan, dispatched to Great
Bend, returned with a relative, who tear-
fully confirmed identification. She said
a wallet, in which Paul usually carried
his money, was missing, along with an
expensive wrist watch. The girl then
recalled that Paul had mentioned taking
the watch to a jeweler’s for adjustment
and this was later confirmed. However,
robbery seemed to be the motive in the
musician’s untimely and tragic death.

The police reasoned that a passenger
in Skaritza’s car had compelled the man
to stop on the lonely road, ordered him
out of the car, lined him against the tree
and then shot him either before or after
the robbery.

Careful examination of the surrourrd-
ing scene revealed a number of footprints.
There seemed to be three distinct sets.
One set was matched with Skaritza’s
shoes, but the other two were unidentified.

“There was more than one killer,”
Maynard told the others. ‘‘That’s in line
with our theory that the blond bandit and
his gang committed this crime.”

Dr. Stillson.ordered the body removed
to the morgue of the City hospital, Bing-
hampton, where he contacted Dr. V. W.

Bandit trio: John Labosky, Andrew
Deonic, and the leader, Donald
Stuart whose description bore a
striking similarity to that of another
man, wanted for murder.

Bergstrom, a pathologist, for the purpose
of conducting an immediate autopsy.

The police spent the rest of Sunday
trying to locate the lethal bullet, but had
no success. Sheriff Daniels, who finally
reached the scene from other pressing
business, said an electrical device used
in locating hidden metal objects would
be employed to find the missile.

Now the New York state police had a
particularly brutal crime on their hands,
one which they coupled with the wild

rampages of a bandit mob beginning in —

August and extending up to the day
Skaritza disappeared. Maynard and
O’Hanley could scarcely await the ar-
rival of Trooper Moore on the following
morning.

Arrest Bandit

gee had singled from their files the

photographs of all known criminals
resembling in the slightest the blond,
stocky thug who had escaped from the
car at Croton. Moore looked these over
carefully, finally hesitating before one.

, °“I’m sure this is the man,” he declared.

The BCI inspector flipped the photo-
graph over and read the police descrip-

‘ tion: “Donald Stuart or Stewart, Sowden
street, Binghamton.”

Stuart had a minor record, involving
breaking and entering and an assault
with intent to rob charge.

“We'll pick him up right away,” May-
nard said.

With the assistance of Binghamton’s
Capt. Krause, Corp. Mahoney made the

arrest that-same night at the youth’s
home.

The cook and counterman looked the
prisoner over first and promptly identi-
fied him as the Vestal bandit.

Stuart, who was 20, admitted the
holdup, naming Andrew Deonic, 19, of

Myrtle avenue, and John Labosky, 25, of

Laurel street, both of Johnson City, as
his companions in the crime. They were
immediately taken into custody.

“How did you get back from Croton?”
Maynard slyly asked the youth. :

Stuart glared back uncomprehendingly.
“Croton? Where’s that? I never heard
of it.”

Maynard snapped, “We'll see!”

He put Stuart in a line-up again and
had Trooper Moore brought into the
room. The officer scanned the array, hes-
itated before Stuart, then passed on,
shaking his head.

“That fellow there,” he told Maynard,
pointing to Stuart, “looks enough like
that Croton driver to be his twin.

“But he isn’t the man. The other fel-
low had much lighter hair.”

Maynard and O’Hanley were dumb-
founded. Here they had been working
along on the theory that the Vestal ban-
dits had likewise: been responsible for
Skaritza’s death. Now they had the case
suddenly kicked out from under them.

Stuart had an alibi for the afternoon of
Oct. 10, the day the Croton driver had
escaped. This alibi, subsequent investi-
gation proved, was iron-clad.

Maynard and O’Hanley sat in the Sid-
ney barracks discussing this new turn of
events.

“It’s funny the way this worked out,”
Maynard told his partner. ‘We're hunt-
ing a holdup gang and they lead us to a
murder. Then we have our hands on the

[Continued on page 57]

39

SP DEERE ERIE


the holdups, committed a series of crimes
around Binghamton and then, when the
heat was on, fled downstate, only to be
halted in his depredations by the lucky
circumstance of a trooper’s suspicions ?

This seemed to be the picture. There
were a lot of things to be done if the mys-
teries of Skaritza’s disappearance and
the blond bandit’s identity were to be
solved. .Maynard and O’Hanley listed
the steps in the order of their impor-
tance.

They must first know something of
Skaritza’s last movements—whether he
attended the rehearsal in Polish Hall,
what time he left, where he went, who
were his companions.

Then they must bring’ Trooper Moore
to Binghamton to scan photographs of
known criminals, Although the diner em-
ployes had not been able to find a picture
of the blond bandit in the police files, an
experienced officer might.

Also, they would have to dispatch a
couple of experienced fingerprint men
from the Bureau of Criminal Identifica-
tion to Hawthorne to double-check the
recovered Oldsmobile.

Maynard and O’ Hanley quickly learned
from Band Leader Stan Cermak that
Paul Skaritza, his trombone player, was
present at the rehearsal on Oct. 8, leaving

the hall at about 10:10, evidently bound
for his home in Great Bend.

The musician seemed to have nothing
on his mind, made no mention of meeting
anyone after the rehearsal and evidently
adhered to a routine he had followed
weekly over many months. After finish-
ing his work in the photo film plant,
Skaritza drove home to Great Bend, just
across the state line, got his instrument
and returned to Binghamton after sup-
per to attend the rehearsal.

The rehearsal over, Skaritza usually
went with the other musicians for a bite
to eat, then would take two or three of
them to their Binghamton homes before
departing for Great Bend. Wednesday
night, Oct. 8, had been no exception.

“What do you think might have hap-
pened to Skaritza?’” Maynard asked
Cermak,

The orchestra leader shrugged. “He
could have picked up a hitchhiker. He

Careful search of the ground event-
ually turned up the steel-jacketed
bullet fired from the murderer's auto-
matic. The two troopers in uniform
are Sergt. Tom Hastings and Joe
Nolan. Inspector Maynard is ‘at
extreme right, hands on knees.

was always doing that, although I warned
him against it.”

That, indeed, seemed a likely answer.
Apparently the musician had made an un-
fortunate choice of a motoring compan-
ion, as subsequent events seemed to
indicate.

But the mystery of who this compan-
ion was and what happened to Paul Skar-
itza remained unsolved until Sunday,
Oct. 12, Maynard and O’Hanley were
waiting for Trooper Moore from Haw-
thorne and the reports of the BCI experts
on any fingerprints in the car.

While the investigation was at a tem-
porary standstill, two hikers, a man and
wife, were tramping a lonely country
road which led from Kirkwood over the
hill to Lester, in the town of Windsor.
It was 1:30 p. m,

They saw the form of a man lying about
four feet off the road and the hiker,
thinking he was either asleep or drunk,
went over and shook him. To his horror,
he discovered that the form was stiff.

The hiker sent his wife to telephone
the office of Sheriff Earl J. Daniels in
Windsor. This officer flashed the alarm
to the state police, then dispatched Dep-
uties A. B. Thatcher and Robert Cook,
with Dr. A. J. Stillson, a Broome county
coroner, to the scene.

They
O’Hank
Troope:
the BC)

The \
letters i
his iden

‘to Dr. $

ination,
behind
ing fro
dead ab
A wo
of Skar
investig
hands u
McG:
Bend, r
fully cc
a walle
his mo:
expensi
recalled
the wat
and thi:
robbery
musicia
The
in Skar
to stop
out of t
and the
the rob
Care
ing sce!
There
One se
shoes, b
“The
Mayna:
with ou
his gan
ior. -$
to the n
hampto


ESPOSITO Brothers, Elec., Sing. Sing (New York Co. ) March 12,

INSIDE DETECTIVE, APRIL, 1941
New York police trap two kill-

192.

w 3e ST € 36 SI
Sel wigs eon er Alaanenissiniticholowdsoaibie
aussexs 1 baee| INTERN

[ { eh comaus Ugh
Qa} s , 4 whe ith Meber f=
pred > v i 1G oad wounds
<¢ 4 Pl Withem C
~ ess3sT Mueller ond

cob driver
Leonerd

|xiel_
ee fd q ’—--——-- -- sented
w34st ¢' GE 54 ee |
27> tet
ay ae os
ahs EMPIRE .
STATE Sug ORMER CUR
foe NET Ee
w 33ST €.33 ST =

Beadits fotiew Klevwrmen
on way to Kemp & Seotiey.
bit him in elovoter

DIAGRAM shows furious action of the
noonday street battle, from the killing of
Klausman (2) to the slaying of the officer (5)
while terror-stricken shoppers dove for cover.

crazy thugs as thousands watch!

5 A MOMENT LATER Maher lay dead (foreground)
and Leonard Weisberg. who tried to aid him, lay
sprawled on the sidewalk badly wounded. Killer not
visible in this photo though he lay not far away.

Crowds of noonday shoppers
trampling each other in their eagerness to get out of
the way . . . Women screaming, fainting . . .

Such was the scene at Fifth Avenue and Thirty-fourth
Street, New York City, at 12:45 on January 14, 1941. Here
thousands of Manhattan shoppers and lunchgoers thronging
America’s most famous avenue of fashion—in the shadow of
the Empire State Building—at a point two short blocks from
the offices of INstpeE Detecrive—got a perilously close view
of the most sensational gun battle ever to occur on that

fabulous thoroughfare.
It started when Alfred Klausman, 55, linen firm official,

HAIL OF BULLETS .. . Two killers, brandishing
Aes fleeing pell-mell ...

6 SPECTATORS are seen subduing William Esposito

a moment after he had killed Maher with his second
gun, A department store doorman twists the gunman’s
foot so he cannot escape. Spectator holds killer’s gun.

entered the elevator of his office building at 6 East Thirty-
fourth Street, bearing a $649 payroll. Two men got in with
him, menaced both Klausman and the elevator operator with
guns, and demanded Klausman’s money.

“No, no!” cried Klausman, clutching his package.

The gunman shot him dead, ordered the operator to take
the elevator to the ground floor, then ran out into the crowded
avenue.

Wild-eyed, they crossed the street, and entered Altman’s
huge department store, waving their guns and sending cus-
tomer’s screaming in terror. Running through the store,
they rushed out the Madison Avenue exit and leaped
into a cab.


gunman, Patrolman Maher ran up, leaned over the

figure as he began to ©
In a split second the
his knees upward as 2 shield for his body, fired a

shot from another pistol he had had concealed in

walk as the terrified crowd fell back
deadly onslaught. But, undaunted b
death, a cab driver, Leonard Weisberg, leaped upon
ith the gun and attempted to

subdue him. The gunman again brought his weapon

injury to William C. Mueller, a bank guard, who
was shot in the left shoulder. Mueller, however, was
one of those who later aided in the capture of the

‘patty News Syndicate, Ine from Acmé “corpse that killed.” Both Mueller and Weisberé are

shown where they lay just after the spectacular
gunplay (5). ;
As a patrolman bends over Weisberg (6), the

y down. When they reached the street floor they

7 prandished their guns and ordered Gre ad
the background shortly after his capture in a five-
and-dime store on Fifth Ave. 4 block from the triple

be to ascen second member of the gun toting duo can be seen in

- again with his cargo of death.

v Women, placidly shopping in Altman’s department

a store across the street, were panic-stricken when the shooting. A closeup of the cringing captive Anthony

es Jethal pair ran wildly through the store waving re- (9) shows the policeman holding him with one hand
volvers. They emerged from the store on the Madison while the other is clenched about a revolver ready to

amt Ave. side and dashed northward. In the meantime, ump bullets should the bandit attempt to escape.

pi Patrolman Eaward F. Maher, on traffic duty at Fift George Baxter, 4 doorman a Altman’s, is shown )

SB: Ave. an 34th St., was apprised of the shooting and holding Esposito s foot while others hold guns taken

j from the desperado. Meanwhile civilians attempted to

ng- s ed to the scene, drawing his service revolver (4).
give first aid to Patrolman Maher (7) pending the

ng Patrolman Maher, @ veteran of 28 years on the ¢
force, picked up the killers’ trail on Madison Ave.» and arrival of an ambulance. The valiant patrolman die
pursued hem to 35th St., where their attempt to com~ a few minutes after he was admitted to French Hos-
pes mandeer a cab failed when they became snarled in the pital. Weisberg, the heroic hackie, although seriously
pam’ heavy traffic. At the corner of 35th St., the prothers wounded, jater recovered.
alles leaped from the taxi and wheeled westward, toward Search of the brothers disclosed each had carried
=~ Fifth Ave. Here they separated to escape the fire of three pistols in their hegira in crime. Both possessed
— Patrolman Maher. One pandit, William, however, te) prison records for robbery, burglary. and violation of
is he his gun falling to the sidewalk. the Sullivan Law. Now they face charges of first de-
= Asa crowd gathered about the prostrate pody of the gree murder.

Fk = ,
me Dai Tt
ily News Syndicate, Ince tf om Ai em
” cm

md

ps
"

» Dai
9 iP ly News Syndicate, Inc, from

Daily News Syndicate, Inc., from Acme


pw etn ged

.

PATROLMAN

THE BODY of Alfred Klausman, who
was shot dead when he resisted

robbers’ efforts to take his $649 payroll,

is seen as he still lay in the elevator.

7 OFFICERS drag Anthony Esposito, cowering, out of

the ten-cent store where he had sought refuge, send-
ing women customers into hysterics. He had three guns
and plenty of extra ammunition on his _ person.

949)

“Get goin’!” they snarled at the cabbie.

But the cab had only gone a few feet before it was caught
in a traffic jam, and the two killers jumped out to the street
again, racing toward Fifth Avenue.

The cabman ran over to Patrolman Edward F. Maher, who
was directing traffic at the intersection.

“Holdup men!” he shouted, pointing. “They ran that way!”

Patrolman Maher, a veteran of twenty-seven years in the
force, unlimbered his gun and gave chase. Stooping to one
knee, he fired as passersby ducked into doorways. One of the
fleeing gunmen fell, his gun dropping several yards away.

Patrolman Maher came up, saw that the bandit’s gun was
at a safe distance, then stood guard over his wounded captive

Edward Maher,

directing traffic nearby, was told:
by a cabby about the two gunmen
who leaped from his cab and raced
pell-mell down Thirty-fifth Street.

4 ANOTHER officer from a nearby

corner, notified of the chase, gets
his gun unlimbered. (This photo, and
Nos. 5, 6 and 7, are copyrighted by
News Syndicate Co., Inc., from Acme,

ANTHONY ESPOSITO (left) and his brother William.
both having police records longer than their arms, are

indicted for murder and Prosecutor Dewey will do his
best to send them to the electric chair at Sing Sing.

and waited for the ambulance to come. It was when Maher
turned to warn spectators to keep their distance that tragedy
struck.

Like a snake, the wounded bandit squirmed around, face
up—and whipped out another revolver! The officer whirled,
to see the gun leveled directly at him.

Fearlessly the veteran policeman dove at the gun, grasped
it in his hands. But even as he gripped it, it was spitting
lead and death.

In fascinated horror, spectators who a moment before had
seen the officer stand over his prostrate prisoner, now saw the
officer fall dead and the gunman, still on the sidewalk, waving
his revolver. Hundreds fled, (Continued on page 56)


A rough idea of the kind of business the Esposito brothers were engaged in is given by this
photo of the six guns and extra cartridges taken from their persons. (See story below.)

Death on
Fifth Avenue

(Continued from page 31)

shrieking for help.

But not Leonard Weisberg, another taxi
driver who had witnessed the cowardly
slaying. With rare courage, Weisberg
dove at the kill-crazy outlaw, trying to
grasp his gun. The bandit saw him com-
ing and shot him through the neck. Weis-
berg, critically wounded, rolled over into
the street.

At this, a whole group of enraged spec-
tators leaped on the gunman, kicked him
in the face and body, overpowered him
and took away his gun.

EANWHILE, the second bandit had

dashed into a Woolworth ten-cent store
at Fifth Avenue and Thirty-Fifth Street.
Sending customers there into hysterics, he
rushed down into the basement with three
policemen at his heels. The officers trapped
him in the basement, took his gun away
and handcuffed him.

When the officers reached the street with
their prisoner, they searched -him again—
and found two more revolvers on him!

Allin all, the two bandits were found to
have six guns and fifty extra cartridges on
their persons.

When the two men were booked and
fingerprinted, the police found that they
had on their hands two such rats as have
seldom befouled even the darkest alleys
of Manhattan, which has known plenty
of savage criminals in its day. The two
were discovered to be brothers, William
and Anthony Esposito, and both had long
police records. In fact, at that very time,
William was a fugitive from a police war-
rant, and Anthony was illegally in the
country, having been deported some time
before.

The wrath of America’s biggest city has
been stirred by the bloody crimes of these
mad dogs as it has seldom been stirred be-
fore. The day after the gun battle the
brothers were found plotting to escape from

Bellevue Hospital, where they had been
interned. The following day New York
justice, moving with a speed it seldom
shows, indicted both men for murder.

Patrolman Maher, a hero to the last, was
given an inspector's funeral by the police
department whose honor he had upheld so
well. Ironically, hé was slain by a blood-
crazed gunman on the very date on which
his wife died twenty years ago. Bitterest
irony of all, he was slain at a time when
he would soon be eligible for retirement.

At this writing, Leonard Weisberg.
courageous cab driver who tried to save
the officer’s life and protect bystanders,
is slowly recovering in a hospital.

And the brothers Esposito, if they have
any sense of imagination at all, must have
before their eyes at every moment a ter-
ribly vivid picture of the electric chair at
Sing Sing Prison... .

Slicker No. 1

(Continued from page 21)

two days before at Los Angeles. As he
picked up the order, the warning bulletin
flashed through Smith’s mind—‘“Look out
for E. Kohler presenting raised money
orders.” Before him stood the long-sought
crook who had eluded Uncle Sam’s best
postal sleuths tor eighteen months—the
only man who had ever succeeded in so
cleverly faking postal orders!

Examining the order, Smith saw nothing
outwardly wrong with it. Mr. Kohler
never spoke a word, but merely laid down
his wallet with the California driver's
license for Smith’s inspection. Smith, barred
behind his window, could not reach out
and collar Mr. Kohler, much as he itched
to do so. He might yell for some outsider
in the lobby to grab him, but Kohler could
easily run away. or he might prove to
be an honest and perfectly innocent citi-

zen. After all, there are probably more
than a few E. FE. Kohlers in the United
States.

Faced by a bad dilemma, Smith turned
to the back of his cage for help from
his associates in the money order section,

This was cue enough for dapper M:
ler, who lost no time in departin;
that place. So precipitate was his
exodus that he even left his wallet
as the uncashed order.
Sam was three dollars to the go
the clever money order faker w:
many, many thousands of dollars a!
the post office.

Examination of the wallet brougt
a few snapshots of Shullenberger

This time |

veritable gallery of his lady friends |

was also the well-known driver’s

issued to E. E. Kohler—No. D-183(

was subjected to microscopic exam
and inspectors saw that Shullen!
forging efforts had not been cont
postal money orders. The state a
erator’s certificate showed undoubte
of very clever alteration work. T
of the papers found in the wallet
to be of no value.

Tracing Shullenberger’s trail o
orders on a map from Portland
Angeles, postal inspectors deduced
slippery crook would now probab
east for New Mexico, Arizona, and
His close shave in the Los Angel
post office had been a little too c
comfort. Additional circulars were
the above-mentioned three states.
berger took a bus to Yuma, Arizc
later went to Phoenix. In the lai
he boldly went to the post office, fi
an application blank and was going
a money order. Just as he went
it to the postal clerk, he noticed
picture on the “Wanted” bulletir

His unpleasant surprise in dis:
his own features, description, anc
of his racket so prominently disp
a public lobby, threw him into a p
he lost no time in getting out of
and doubling back to Los Angel:
was smart enough to realize that
territory which he had laid out <
him in Arizona, New Mexico, an
was probably heavily mined with
posters.

All these close calls and bad scar
ever, did not discourage the ebull
Shullenberger. After all, a mar
make a living somehow—even if
crooked one.

HULLENBERGER did_ lay

several months—only long en
get a new driver's license under t
of W. H. Holmes. He still like:
beginning with the letter H.

On March 28, 1935, “Mr.
Holmes” presented a thirty-dollar
Station N in a Los Angeles de
store. The fraud was not detec
the next day when the faked orde1
the main post office. Uncle Sam
another twenty-seven dollars to
sive Mr. Shullenberger, who se
have 2” penchant for raising thr
money orders to thirty dollars.

The clerk who cashed the or
able to give postal inspectors a v
description of Mr. Holmes. It t
too closely with that of the cleve
order swindler whom the _ posta
had been seeking for nearly tw

Shullenberger had evidently nev
the one about the pitcher which
the well once too often, because
later he was back in Station N
other faked order. Not even {
spectors had been so sanguine as
that Shullenberger would come
the same office twice within sucl
time. He had another of his
thirty-dollar orders raised from
dollar one.

The clerk was all set this time.
as he saw Mr. Holmes approa
flashed a secret warning signal to '
clerks who rushed out into the
attempted to grab Mr. Holmes jt


a

x

me

emg part a eR |

YONKERS, N.Y., AUGUST 25, 1956

m Even the most immodest person can
recognize at least one fault in his char-
acter. It may be a predilection to drink,
laziness, a cavalier attitude towards the
truth, or some other such blemish.

But Edward Eckwerth, at the age of
27, hadn’t quite found his particular
shortcoming. This wasn’t because he
hadn’t spent as much time in contenr

by JOHN CAMERON

HE WAS KNOWN AS THE COFFEE
CASANOVA, A BLEND OF LOVE
AND JAVA. BUT ONE CUS-

TOMER WASN'T HAVING ANY

ROCK
FOR
ROSENMAR:

plation of himself as have the rest of
us. It was simply that he had looked for
a fault in all good faith and failed to
find it.

From, time to time, however, he did

have a suspicion of what it might be.
He had a hint, for instance, when he
remembered the nine arrests on his. rec-
ord—five of which were for auto theft

Her mother knew. Rosemary was a serious girl who wanted
a church wedding. She would never run away by herself.

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE, DECEMBE

(the others for robbery). ‘Tiue, that had
cost him some trouble, a $200 fine once
—a five-year sentence another—but it
was a kind of gamble, a chance he had
taken and lost. He’d known what he
was doing. He could have le‘t the cars
parked right where they wer: if he’d
wanted to.

They were misdeeds, but dd they

Ld nina aia

represent a character flaw? Not in Mr.
Eckwerth’s opinion. :

There were other times when he had
a much clearer suspicion of what his
fault might be. This suspicion was
strongest when he looked at himself in
the mirror while arranging the little
pompadour wave on the top of his head.

That just might be it, he was forced
to say to himself. Just too damned
good-looking.

Most of his trouble did seem to stem
from that. The face, which to some
might seem as plain as an Idaho potato
(if you could find one with a hairline
mustache), had been: his undoing more
than once. In proof of this he could
point to the time his wife almost left
him. She’d learned he’d spent ten days
away from home in the company of an-
other woman.

HAT was it in a nutshell. He’d al-

ways had that kind of trouble. He'd
always found himself dodging irate
husbands, angry boyfriends, indignant
fathers. And now, this thing. ... .

The two detectives he was standing
with hadn’t been too polite to him that
day. But it was hardly their fault. They
had a job to do, and besides, they'd
been fed so many bad stories about him
that it would be asking too much of
them to conquer their prejudices in the
short space of a few days.

‘Eckwerth and the two detectives
stood in front of a candy store on a
street in Yonkers. Eckwerth was telling
them pretty much the same story he’d
told just 60 days before.

There were variations, to be sure.
Three months ago it had been:

“Yes, I saw her coming out of the
candy store. She walked to the bus stop
and I stopped there and said a few
words to her. Then I drove away in the
truck.” He'd told this first version with
an ingratiating smile.

The man who’d heard it was Anthony
Spezzo, a 55-year-old laundry salesman.
At that time, Spezzo’s daughter, Rose-
mary, had been missing for nearly 24
hours. Spezzo felt that the police were
far too uninterested in the case, and was
trying to locate his daughter on his own.

Mr. and Mrs. Spezzo had ‘last seen
Rosemary on the afternoon of June 22,
a Friday. She had left the house with
nearly $300 in cash, money which she
had saved up from her summer job—
working in a drugstore in a Yonkers
shopping center. She also had a list of
groceries which she said she would buy
after depositing (Continued on page 66)

Li
0

j

maN paqn

oy . “ AS .
ae ‘a
His record: Five arrests for car theft, one for assault on a crippled wo-
man. But Rosemary? “She wouldn’t give me a tumble,” he told police.


151 NE (2) 3513 143 NE =2nd= 5273 15 NE (2) 8603 1)7 NE -2nd= J)7)i3 19 NE =2nd= 89),
ECKWERTH, Edward, white, electrocuted Sing Sing (Wes tchester) on May 22, 1959,

"Yonkers, June 26, 19568A 2lj<yeareold Bronx school teacher has been reported missing after
leaving her home here last Friday afternoon to make a $300 deposit at a local bank, Miss
Rosemary Spezzo of 52 Edgewood Avenue, who is a 3rd grad teacher at St. Helena's Roman
Catholic School, 2050 Benedict Avenue in the Bronx had told her mother that she would be
home in an four, She was supposed to report at 7 PM at a drug store in the Cross Country
Shopping Center here for her part-time summer job as a cashier, but she did not show up,
On Saturday morning, her father, Anthbny, reported her missing to the Yonkers police who
have put out a 9estate alarm, An alarm has also bee n put out for a door-to-door coffee
salesman, identified as Edward Eckwerth, 29, who lives at 10) Purser Place in Yonkers,
Mr, Eckwerth, whom Miss Spezzo had met occasionally on his delivery route, was reported
missing Saturday morning by his wife, A summons has been issued for Mr, Eckwerth on a
grand larceny charge, An official of Cook's CoffeexDistributing Company of Newark, N, J,,
for whom Mr, Eckwerth works, said that a panel truck had been taken," TIMES, New York,
NY, 6-27-1956 (29/3,)

who
"Yonkers, Aug. 20, 1956 = A local coffee salesman/has been arrested in Portland, Ore,,
on an auto theft charge said today that he knew nothing of the whereabouts of a school
teacher acquaintance who disappeared from her home here, The Portland police picked up
“dward F, Eckwerth, 29-years-old, of 10 Purser Place here on a charge that on June 23
he had taken a truck owned by his employer, Cook Coffee Distributing Company of Newark,
The abandoned truck was found ) days later in Mt, Vernon, Just before his disappearance,
Eckwerth was reportedly seen talking with Miss Rosemary Spezzo, 2), of 52 Edgewood Ave., a
Bronx school teacher who was later reported missing by her parents," TIMES, New York, NY,
Aug. 21, 1956 (58-12)

"Yonkers, Auge 26, 1956 = A former coffee salesman today admitted the slaying of a 2heyear-
old parochial school teacher, the police said, and led them to her body, The man, Edward
ie Eckwerth, 29-years-old, had been sought since Miss Rosemary Spezzo disappeared on June
226 Eckwerth, who was arrested in Portland, Ore., was formally charged with murder in
the first degree last night, “ater he was to be arraigned and held in the Westchester Co,
jail in Eastview. District Attorney Joseph Gogliordi said that Eckwerth, who is married
and has a young daughter, B#4KX verbally confessed at 1 PM today after questioning in
Portland and here, Then he led the police to a wooded place 1,00 feet off Jackson Ave,
north of here, near St. Claire's Aca demy, in Hastings-on-Hudson, The remains of the
body were found there, Dr. Victoria Brandess, Westchester County Medical Examiner,
ordered the remains removed to the morgue at Grosslands Hospital in Valhalla, Bits of
red clothing found with the body were also taken, Eckwerth told the police the slaying
had happened this way: He met the girl on the afternoon she disappeared and they went to=
gether to a secluded spot. She wanted him to leave his wife and go with her, Suddenly
she jumped up and started to run, He pursued her, and bludg eoned her on the head with a
rock, Mr, Gagliardi said last night that he did not nelieve this portion of Eckwerth's
statement, Afterward, Eckwerth said, he went home and spent the evening with his family.
ae next day, he said, he took a traih to New York and then a bus to Chicago and Seattle,
there he asertedly stole an automobile, which he had when he was arrested in Portland,
Eckwerth was at first chazged with grand larceny of a delivery truck belonging to his
employer, Cook's County Coffee Distributing Company of Newark, After the truck was found
he was charged with grand larceny of $260 of the company's receipts, with which he was
accused of absconding.eeThe police found her purse last night near the place where the
pody was found, It was a wallet containing a driver's license and insurance papers bearin g
her name, There was no trace of money or a ring she reportedly carried in it.e.The police
said he had a record of 9 arrests on minor charges," TIMES, New York, NY

8=26-1956 (61/1.)

tWhite Plains, Auge 31, 1956 = Edward E, Eckw erth, a former coffee salesman in Yonkers,
was indicted for first degree murder here today by a Westchester County Grand Jury. e
was accused of kill ing Miss Rosemary Spezzo of Yonkers, a school teacher, in Greenburgh
woods on June 22 by erushing her head with a rock, Seven witnesses testified today,
District Attorney Joseph F, Gagliardi said Eckwerth would be arra igened in County Court

oo on Tuesday and would be tried in thefall.'" TIMES, New York, NY, 8-1-1956
1.)


nothing to do with Winnie Kendhammer’s
death and that if the last man with whom she
was seen on Saturday night wore a mustache,
it couldn’t be he because his had been shaved
off on Friday.

He carried his protestations of innocence
right through Monday and Tuesday when he
was taken into County Court for preliminary
hearing. “Innocent” was his reply to the
charge. ;

But neither District Attorney George
Thompson nor County Criminal Investigator
A. M. Josephson, who had returned to La
Crosse from a vacation in the West because of
the case, was willing to settle for-Parson’s calm
denial.

“A mustache doesn’t make that much differ-
ence,” both of these authorities maintained.
“We're certain to find-some witnesses who can
recognize Parson even if he sticks to his claim
he was clean-shaven Saturday night. Mean-
while we'll keep digging away at a motive.”

The possible motive seemed easier at first to
come up with than witnesses who knew Parson
without his mustache. It was learned that Par-
son’s second wife had agreed to drop non-sup-
port charges against him if they were recon-
ciled. He probably had made Winnie a lot of

ey

promises when his divorce was pending that he
couldn’t keep after he went back with his
wife.”

“Looks about right,” a deputy agreed.
“Bither she was hounding him to get rid of his
wife, which he didn’t want to do with that
non-support charge hanging over his head, or
he wanted to hang onto both Winnie and his
wife and Winnie wouldn't sit still for that.”

“We already know that Parson can get
rough with a woman in an argument.”

The autopsy report had come in by this time
and the coroner said death had resulted from
strangulation by human hands. “The wind
pipe was crushed, which rules out any prob-
ability of accidental death,” the coroner said.

Every officer on the case felt certain they
had the right man and by late Tuesday when
the teams of men who had been sent out to the
taverns to get statements on “The Mustache”
returned, they were even more sure. There were
bartenders and customers and former friends
of Parson who said there was no mistake about
it. Parson was the man with Winnie Kendham-
mer and Parson had a full-grown mustache on

* Saturday night.

Teams of officers took turns confronting “the
man of distinction” with these statements and

son Thursday, August 30, when Parson was
confronted also with the information that no.
one was found who could support his alibi of
where he’d spent Saturday evening after he
claimed he left Winnie, a half-bitter, half-
amused smile lit up the long, lean face of Clar-
ence Parson. ;
“All right, all right,” he said. “I didn’t leave
her at six. I went to French Island with her. I
was the guy who had an argument with her.
We left and started down the street but the
argument went right along with us. Finally we

weren't just arguing, we were struggling. But

I didn’t strangle her.”

“What did happen?”

Parson shrugged. “I left her, that’s what. I
left her and walked back to La Crosse.”

“And then what did you do?”

“|. uh... I shaved off tay niustache,”
Parson said with a wry grin.

He was hazy as to why he and ‘Ninnie had
argued and he stuck to his story that he hadn’t
strangled the woman, but investigating officers
were fairly sure they had some of the answers.
At this writing Parson is in jail, awaiting ac-
tion on the charge against him . . .. and in La
Crosse he’s a man of distinction now even
without his mustache.

A Rock for Rosemary

continued from page 47

the large sum of money she had with her.

Several of her friends had seen her come
into the candy store, where she stopped and
talked for a few minutes before she walked
to the bus stop.

A minute or so later, the friends looked out
and noticed that Edward Eckwerth, a five-
foot two-inch, 160-pound coffee salesman, was
standing at the bus stop talking to her.

That was the last time anyone saw Rose-
mary Spezzo.

Rosemary was 24 years old, She was a
sweet, serious-minded girl who had attended
Hunter College in New York City, graduated
with honors, and then taken a job teaching in
a parochial school. ‘

Nobody who knew her could imagine her
having anything to do with Eckwerth, whose
reputation was something less than his own
opinion of himself.

Eckwerth worked as a coffee salesman, £0-
ing from door to door to make his calls. In
this capacity, he talked to hundreds of house-
wives every day, and an informal poll of these
housewives has shown that Eckwerth had a
glib flow of chatter which constantly strayed
from coffee to less savory propositions. He
had, in fact, earned such epithets as the “coffee
Casanova,” and the “Don Juan of the coffee
route.”

Eckwerth had called frequently at the Spez-
zo home, and had done nothing to ingratiate
himself with the Spezzo family. On the con-
trary, Rosemary’s sister had once predicted:
“That young man could bring nothing but
trouble. . . .”

WHEN Rosemary did not return home, the
Spezzos reacted as all devoted parents
would. They began calling her friends, to ask
if any had seen her. When midnight came
without any news, they began to worry in
earnest. Rosemary, they knew, would not have
gone to a movie or visited someone without

phoning them. She hadn’t been dressed for a
date, and she had not taken her medicine,
which she needed at regular intervals for a
diabetic condition.

For the next five hours, the Spezzos stayed
on the phone, carefully checking each. possi-
bility. Finally, at five a.M., they decided to
call the police.

The. police department reacted in conven-
tional fashion—far too conventional to suit
the Spezzos. Told that a pretty 24-year-old
girl hadn’t come home that night, they replied
that thousands of young girls fail to come
home at night, and that it doesn’t mean @
thing. They advised the Spezzos to get some
sleep and try to put it out of their minds, and
assured them that in all probability their
daughter would return home or phone them
within 2 few hours. Ss

This wasn’t the reaction Mr. and Mrs. Spez-
zo had hoped for. They knew their daughter
well; and for them, sleep was impossible.

The next day, Mr. Spezzo finally got in
touch with a girlfriend who remembered sce-
ing Rosemary in the candy store and talking
to someone at the bus stop. She didn’t know
the man’s name, but said he was a coffee sales-
man. v

It seemed like a thin lead, but Mr. Spezzo
persisted. He was looking for a short, heavy-
set coffee salesman with a pompadour wave.
The police by this time were sympathetic, but
with some justice told Mr. Spezzo that they
couldn't engage in a search for & man who
might possibly know where his daughter was.

It was late that afternoon when Anthony
Spezzo finally found the man he was looking
for, and learned that he too had last seen her
standing at the bus stop on the corner. The
young coffee salesman smiled and was most
polite.

Mr. Spezzo was very much impressed. He
thanked him for his help, and as he was about
to leave asked the young man his name. In

reply, the coffee salesman reached into his
pocket with something of a flair,jand brought
out a printed card and handed: it@.to. Mr.
Spezzo.

The name Mr. Spezzo read was Eddie Stev-

ens, and the address was on Purser Place.
Again Mr. Spezzo thanked him, and then re-
turned home to relay this information to his
wife. .
Rosemary had been missing for 24 hours.
Eddie Stevens was the last person they knew
of who had seen her, and even he hadn’t been
able to help them. The friends they had been
calling all day now began calling back to see
if Rosemary had returned.

Everyone agreed that it wasn't. like Rose-
mary.

The Spezzos had to start from the begin-
ning.

MES. Spezzo decided to call Eddiz Stevens
and hear the story for herself. When she
dialed the number on the card given to Mr.
Spezzo, the telephone operator told her there
was no such number. She asked Information
for the number of Eddie Stevens at the Purser
Place address. She learned that there was no
such telephone listed.

It was shortly after this that the Spezzos
learned from somebody who had been at the
candy store that the coffee salesman seen talk-
ing with Rosemary was not named Eddie
Stevens but Edward Eckwerth.

Mr. Spezzo’s first reaction was disbelief.
His second was to call the police department.

In spite of the fact that his daughter had
been missing for over 24 hours, and the last
person known to have seen her had given Mr.
Spezzo a fictitious name and tciophone num-
ber, the police still clung to <usir theory that
Rosemary, like the majority of missing girls,
would turn up in quick order.

Mr. Spezzo protested, but with little effect.
All that night Mr. and Mrs. Spezzo were alone

sie ole

with their anguish. The next day, they again
phoned the police.

Their daughter, they said, had been on her
way to the bank with $300 in her purse.
Wouldn't the police please try and find out if
she had at least reached the bank? The bank
would have the record of the deposit, if it had
been made, and the Spezzos would have traced
Rosemary’s movements on the day she disap-
peared one step further.

The police explained that there was no way
for them to check on 4 Sunday. They may
also have believed that Rosemary having $300
in her purse could indicate that she had
planned a weekend some place. Also, they
couldn’t see that Edward Eckwerth’s having
talked with her at the bus stop meant that he
had anything to do with her disappearance.

ME: SPEZZO repeated (for what seemed
te her the hundredth time) . that her
daughter just wouldn’t ‘have left town of her
own accord, and that she would have called
them if it had been possible. :

“My daughter was ill with a condition re-
quiring regular medication,” Mrs. Spezzo said,
adding that the girl wasn’t, however, subject
to comas. “She would never have left volun-
tarily without taking medicine and her good
clothes along.”

That Sunday was a long and disheartening
one for the Spezzo family, but it finally passed.
On Monday they got a better reception from
the police.

First of all, officers checked the bank and
learned that Rosemary had not made any de-
posit. She hadn’t transacted any business with
the bank at all on Friday.

That afternoon, the police decided to try
and get in touch with Eckwerth. They sent a
patrol car over to his house on Purser Place.
A very pretty young woman answered the
door, and with a worried look told officers
that she was Mrs. Eckwerth. A little girl stood
behind her.

Officers asked Mrs. Eckwerth if her husband
was home, and she shook her head. “I haven’t
seen him since Saturday afternoon,” she said.

She told them that she didn’t have any idea
where he could be, but that it: wasn’t the first
time he’d left . without saying a word. She
assured them that her husband did work for
a coffee firm as a salesman.

The next thing the police did was to get in
touch with the coffee company. The owner of
the company said that as far as he was con-
cerned, Eckwerth’s work record had been ex-
cellent. No, he hadn’t turned up for work yet,
but he was expected shortly because Monday
was the day that the weck’s receipts were
turned in.

“How much would Eckwerth bring in?” an
officer asked.

“Somewhere in the neighborhood of $300,”
was the answer.

The afternoon went by, and so did the
night. There was no word from Rosemary.
The next day, police heard from Eckwerth’s
employer again. The salesman had not shown
up for work. Missing with him was around
$300 in receipts, a company truck and a quan-
tity of coffee.

The employer signed a formal complaint
which charged Eckwerth with theft.

The next morning, police returned to Eck-
werth’s apartment armed with a warrant for
his arrest. Before entering, they knew that
something was up. There was two days mail
and newspapers outside the door.

The apartment was empty and in 3 mess.

There was clothing, both men and women’s,
scattered all over the living room and bedroom
floor. The closets had been emptied and any

suitcases were gone. The apartment had been,

vacated, and vacated in a hurry.

Officers didn’t know quite what to make of
this. They had assumed all along that they
were dealing with a run-of-the-mill missing
persons case. There were thousands on the
dockets each month; the pattern had already
been established. A girl of 24 meets a man and
they both disappear. They show up again with
varying degrees of embarrassment in a few
days, weeks, or even months. (Over 90 percent
show up in a matter of days.) Every mother
who files a missing persons report, of course,
tells the officers that her daughter is a good
girl and would never do such a thing. The po-
lice attitude, based on statistics, is necessarily 2
rigid one.

But now that Eckwerth’s wife and child
were also missing, the case didn’t fit the usual
pattern so well. Now there was the possibility
that he had taken off for good—with his fam-
ily. And where did that leave Miss Rosemary
Spezzo? .

“Remember, too,” an officer Said, “he disap-
peared shortly after Mr. Spezzo talked to him.
That's exactly what he would have done if he
felt the heat was on. He could have returned

for his family later, or have phoned them to .

meet him someplace.”

When Mrs. Spezzo heard of this latest devel-
opment, she broke into tears. “I think she met
with foul play. I’m afraid to put what I’m
thinking into words. If she were able—if she
were well—she’d come back to us. Something’s
wrong. I’m afraid of what’s happened to her.”
Then her voice failed.

Anthony Spezzo put his arm around her
shoulder and helped her into a chair. Un-
til now, neither one of them had been able to
put their fear into words. It had been a hidden
thing; a black hidden thing. But now it was
coming into the open.

After a while, Mrs. Spezzo got up, went into
the kitchen and began making a pot of coffee.
The telephone rang. Mr. Spezzo picked up the
receiver. “Are you Mr. Spezzo?” a deep voice
asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Spezzo answered.

“Are you Rosemary’s father?”

“Yes, yes, who is this?” Mr. Spezzo said ex-
citedly.

His wife came and stood in the doorway,
watching him.

There was a moment's silence. Then the
voice said, “Hold the line a minute. Rosemary
wants to talk to you.”

“Rosemary! Rosemary! Can you hear me.
Rosemary, where are you?” Mr. Spezzo was
shouting now, pressing the receiver hard
against his ear, but there was no answer.

The caller didn’t hang up. Mr. Spezzo could
hear sounds of breathing at the other’ end of
the line.

“Are you there, Rosemary a

QTMLL no answer. Mr. Spezzo shouted again,
and heard his voice crack. He stared help-
lessly at the receiver. Then he heard a click
and the line went dead. He looked up and saw
his wife standing in the doorway. She read the
whole story in his eyes, covered her face with
her apron and went back to the kitchen.

Mr. Spezzo waited by the phone for a long
time—praying it, would ring again. He was
reluctant to use it long enough to report the
call to the police.

Finally, he went into the kitchen and sat

down across from his wife. “I don’t know
what to think,” he said. “If it was Rosemary,
she would have managed to say something to
me.”

“Was it a long distance call?” Mrs. Spezzo
asked.

“J don’t know .
don’t remember. . . -

About four hours later, the phone rang
again. It was the same voice. “Hold on a min-
ute, Mr. Spezzo. Rosemary wants to talk to

“Go ahead! Go ahead!”

There was another period of silence. Mr.
Spezzo kept the receiver to his ear, listening
carefully, listening for anything, but all he
heard was silence. “Go ahead” he repeated des-
perately. He waited for several minutes before
he realized for certain the phone was dead
again.

_ . L was too excited . . . I
”

HE afternoon of the next day, police lo-

cated Mrs. Eckwerth and her baby at the
home of her family in upstate New York. She
said she hadn’t seen her husband since she last
talked to police, and furthermore, she never
wanted to see him again. She told officers that
he had frequently left her for as long as ten
days to be with other women.

Officers also recovered the stolen coffee truck
—it had been found on a street in Mount Ver-
non, N. Y., just a few miles away. Police were
unable to say how long it had been there be-
fore it was discovered. :

Yonkers police, six full days after Rosemary
Spezzo’s disappearance, still stuck to their rosy
view of the matter. A police department
spokesman stated:

“The girl knew Eckwerth from his frequent
calls at her home as a tradesman, and she was
seen with him Friday afternoon. We believe
she may have gone with him of her own voli-
tion. If so, she'll soon come back when she
learns the kind of guy he is.”

The statement seemed to ignore the fact that
Eckwerth hadn’t disappeared until 24 hours
after Rosemary, and that people don’t general-
ly elope in shifts.

The statement did little to convince or com-
fort Mrs. Spezzo. ‘

She said: “But I told them she had no rea-
son to elope. We never stopped her from going
with any boy. She was a good religious girl,

and she had no reason at all not to come home. ©

Over the weekend, whenever we talked to the
police, they always told us, ‘don’t worry, she’s
just eloped. She’s 24. There’s nothing to worry
about.’ Rosemary always told me ‘You don’t
have to worry about me, Mama. T'll never run
off and get married. When I get married, I
want it to be in a church,’ Now I know she’s
been killed!”

The following day was Friday. A week had
passed since Rosemary left her home with the
$300 and a grocery list. . .

The police department alerted every law en-
forcement agency in the country to be on the
lookout for Rosemary and Eckwerth. If found,
Eckwerth could be extradited on the charge of
theft in connection with the truck and money
belonging to his employer.

It was a game of waiting. Leads came in
from California, Florida and Texas. All
were carefully tracked down and_ checked.
They led to nothing, and now everyone began
to suspect the worst.

To Mr. and Mrs. Spezzo, each day was 8
year of suffering. Sometimes they felt that any
definite news would be better than this terrible
ignorance. Certain memories never left them—


ECKWERTH, Edward, wh, elec. NY (Westchester) May 22, 1959

|
i
l
i
hil
|
i
}
|
Each time he told about his relationship with Rosemary the account varied and a jury believed the worst about him. ' of
H Reger a <x
= \ . w)
| e : \ Ju
Pty bi f al
a * , : ; an
+! ; i
th:
, fre
j ‘ 4 “=
50 1
L i Ms

FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE,
October, 1961


he worst about him.

' YONKERS, N. Y.
‘m The day was January 3; 1957. The place,

the Westchester County (N.Y.) Court. The
scene, a courtroom filled to overflowing with
spectators and. officials who had come to see,
hear and judge the young man seated at the
defense table with his two court-appointed
lawyers.

If you were to go by looks alone, you’d say
that the young man would be capable of noth-
ing more blood-curdling than forgetting his
wedding anniversary. Short, only five feet two;
stocky at 160 pounds, with a long mop of blond
hair slicked back in.a faultless pompadour, he
looked like an average man with an average

‘background and an average future in. front

of him.

That. assumption would be only partly true.
His occupation, door to door salesman, was not
a criminal or out-of-the-ordinary pastime. And
when the police begari* searchirg for:him, in
June of 1956, they found that he was married to
a pretty, 21-year-old girl and lived in a pleas-
antly average house in Mount Vernon,: N.Y.

But there was. nothing average. or ordinary
in the activities in Westchester: County Court
that morning. These proceedings stemmed

frdm the highly — Seontinnes on page 74).

ae

A good salesman
has a good story to
tell. He had three
stories about a
missing girl and

_all of the versions

To find her they'd needed one man's help.

by JAY WILLIAMS

had trouble with |

51

the child with the sweet serious face; the child
who had always been a good girl, who had al-
ways been quick to return their generous af-
fection.

Mr. Spezzo had a special memory. It was of
the Saturday afternoon after Rosemary had

. disappeared, a hot day of driving all over

town looking for the coffee truck driven by a
short, heavy-set fellow with a pompadour
wave. He’d found the truck and the driver. He
remembered exactly what the man had said.
He remembered the smile; the appearance of
politeness and cooperation. He also remem-
bered the card with the phony name and tele-
phone number. He could have done something

._ —called a policeman right then—but they’d.
' probably have laughed at him. . .

Two months passed before Yonkers police
got a wire from police in Portland, Ore., stat-
ing that they had picked up someone answer-
ing Edward Eckwerth’s description. Yonkers
police replied that they should hold him until
certain identification was made. Within a few
hours, the word came back from Oregon that
the suspect had admitted .he was Eckwerth.
Yonkers detectives flew out to Oregon to make
arrangements for extradition.
~ When they arrived, they learned that Eck-
werth had been picked up on the charge of

driving a stolen car. Asked where Rosemary

Spezzo was, he smiled and said:

“If you think she is anywhere near here,
maybe you could use this to help find her.”
And he pulled.« picture of Rosemary out of
his: wallet and gave it_to them. '

Pressed for an answer, he stated flatly, “No.
I don’t know anything about her.”

But now they didn’t believe him. They kept

: firing questions.

“Yes,” Eckwerth said, “I did see her stand-
ing at the bus stop. I talked to her. That’s all.
I drove away in the truck and didn’t see her

_ again.”

Asked what he had been doing since then,
Eckwerth said he went to New York City the
next day and hopped a bus going west. In
Chicago, he had a touch of his old trouble—he
met a woman, a schoolteacher like Rosemary.
He was living with that woman in Portland at
the time he was arrested.

Eckwerth waived extradition and agreed to
accompany the New York officers back by
plane.

He also gave a fuller: account of his ac-
quaintanceship with Rosemary. He .said- he
had met her twice when calling on the Spezzo
family to-sell coffee. In his own words:

“Sure, I propositioned her. Why not? But
she wouldn’t give me a tumble.”

And then his story changed. However pain-
ful it was to admit, he gave them a different
version of what had happened when he met
Rosemary on the Friday she disappeared.

He had not just talked to her at the bus
stop; she had walked across the street with
him as far as his truck.

What happened then?

“I got in my truck and she left me to go
home. That’s all I know. . . .”

"THE next day, Eckwerth and the officers

boarded a plane for home. As soon as they
landed, he was driven to Yonkers police head-
quarters and questioned until 2 am. The

result of this interview was a 50-page docu- .

ment in which he repeated pretty much the

story he’d already told and denied all knowl-

edge of her whereabouts.
He said that after he had driven away from
his sidewalk interview with Rosemary, he

cashed a worthless check to buy gas for his
truck and went home. He spent the night in
his apartment on Purser Place... .

The next day, police again grilled him. Then
they took him to court where he was arraigned
on a charge of grand larceny for the delivery
truck. He was also charged with passing a bad
check, to which he pleaded guilty.

That evening he was questioned further, and
early the next morning the entire process be-
gan again. They put him in a patrol car and
drove back to the street in Yonkers where he
had last seen Rosemary.

Now the cycle was complete. It was 65 days
later, at the same place, on the same business—
and the girl was still missing.

Eckwerth pointed out where his truck had
been parked, and where Rosemary had been
standing when he last saw her.

“T got into my truck and drove away,” he
said. \

“Okay,” said the officers. “Show us where
you went from here—the exact route. We'll
follow it and make all the stops you made un-
til we get to your house.”

Eckwerth froze. His face began to work, his
body trembled, he turned white. The end came
so fast it stunned the police officers present.

“J can’t take it any more,” he whispered.
“T killed her. I'll show you where the body is
if you let me see my wife and kid.”

Q)FFICERS agreed. The county medical ex-

aminer was asked to join the party, and
Eckwerth told them that the girl was in
Mount Hope Cemetery. He directed them to a
lonely, wooded area just- off the Saw Mill
Parkway near Greenburgh, and while they
were driving he began the story of how it all
happened.

In the first place, Rosemary hadn’t walked
away from the truck; she had got in with him.
They spent the next few hours driving around
town, and then he drove to a lovers lane area.
He took a blanket out of his truck, spread it
on the ground, and they sat on it.

“Then,” said Eckwerth, “Rosemary and I
became intimate.”

The officers expressed disbelief, but Eck-
werth stuck to this part of the story and even
elaborated on it.

“Later, an argument started. She wanted me
to leave my wife because we’d been having an
affair for three months. I told her I couldn't.
One thing led to another; I became angry and
she started to run. I chased her, caught up
with her and hit her with my fist. Then I
picked up a rock and hit her on the head. I
don’t know how many times—maybe three.

. “T remember she fell to the ground at my
feet. I think she was unconscious. I became
frightened and decided to drive away in my
trucks. <.”

When they arrived at the spot near Green-
burgh, Eckwerth led them to-the lovers lane
area about 100 yards from the road and point-

ed to a clump of trees. Officers walked through—
the underbrush. “Yeah,” one said quietly. He’d

found Rosemary.

She was dead and her body badly decom-
posed. Her head was completely separated
from her torso. She was clothed in the same
blouse and skirt that she’d been wearing when
she disappeared.

About 50 yards away, they found a large
clump of hair which appeared to be identical
to Rosemary’s.

“What about the $300?” ‘detectives asked
Eckwerth.

“TY don’t know anything about it,” was the

‘only part they believed was that he had killed

_chance on the street. Both times he had called

thony Spezzo. “Rosemary never had a-seriow

reply. “She had only $26 in her purse. After I
killed her, I took it and threw the purse
away.” He showed officers the approximate
spot where he had thrown the purse, and they
found it. It contained Rosemary’s driver’s li-

‘cense, wallet, watch, rosary beads and some =

other identification—but no money.
Officers continued to question Eckwerth.
They made no bones about the fact that the

her. To their knowledge, Eckwerth had seen
Rosemary only twice before he met her by

at the house as a coffee salesman and not as a
boyfriend. If he’d confessed to raping her,
they’d readily have believed him.

Late that night, Edward Eckwerth was _
charged with first-degree murder and taken to
Greenburgh Town Court for arraignment.

A reporter called the Spezzo home and told
them of Eckwerth’s confession. Anthony Spez-
zo answered the phone. “Oh no! Oh, my
God!” was all he managed to say before he
dropped the telephone receiver on the floor.

Rosemary’s uncle picked it up. “We had a
premonition from the start,” he said. “I’d like |:
to volunteer to pull the switch when they elec- =
trocute this guy, Eckwerth! What I say goes
double for Rosemary’s father. I hope this fiend «
is sentenced to death. He is a criminal of the - 7"
worst sort!”

He said Rosemary’s mother was in & state ©
of shock and couldn’t speak to anyone....

Police officers had promised Eckwerth bit
could see his wife and baby. Mrs. ickwer:
her face pale and strained, came to Yonkers e ‘
headquarters late Saturday night. She spoke to id
the suspect briefly, then turned away and left ©
him standing there. On the way out she said, ie
“T never want to see him again.”

She said that only once before in their three :
years of marriage (which she termed a “nor-~_
mal life together”) was there any trouble like | :
this. That came a year before when Eckwerth _
was sentenced to five to eight years in an 3
Orange, N. J., county court for assault on a
crippled woman. Sentence was suspended, 7»
however, and Eckwerth was placed on proba- Bg
tion for eight years. . . a

The following day, positive identification: of =
the body- was made through Rosemary’s den-
tist. He confirmed that a gold inlay was one “=
he had made for her. ae

The Westchester district attorney’ S cfticed od
was openly skeptical of Eckwerth’s story and - =
said that his statement of being intimate with eA
Rosemary was a deliberate attempt to blacken_ ¥
her character. They also ‘felt Eckwerth was ~~
trying to rule out the possibility of premade :
tion when the case came to trial.

QvcH a defense, they said, could save Eck- ae
werth from the chair if a first-degree mur-— B
der indictment is obtained from the grand jury. —
When Mrs. Spezzo heard the details of pce
werth’s confession, tears streamed down her. -
face; tears of indignation. es
“It’s untrue! She’s dead and cannot defend
herself. She had met him only twice.. os i
fought him and was killed.”
“She didn’t ever date that guy,’

» gab ‘An

boyfriend in her life, although she dated about
five very nice boys from the neighborhood.
He took a deep breath. “I am certain m
daughter died in a state of grace . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Spezzo said, “God 9
take care of her.”

Edward Eckwerth, however, still sticks
his story.

74

who had participated in the case, got busy.

On June 12, 1961, the U.S. Supreme Court
ordered a new trial for Emil Reck. In a seven-
to-two decision, the high court ruled Reck had
been forced to confess the murder. rey

The majority opinion, delivered in Washing~-
ton by Justice Potter Stewart, stated: “It is
hardly necessary to state the question whether
a confession was extracted by coercion does
not depend simply upon whether the police
resorted to the crude tactics. of deliberate
physical abuse. The police used methods on
Reck to produce an effect just as impellingly
coercive as the deliberate use of as third
degree.”

Justices Tom C.. Clark ‘and Charles E.
Whittaker dissented. ‘Justice Clark said there
was no evidence of physical brutality, and
that Reck had not requested food or the help
of a lawyer, friends or family.

The news from Washington brought an
emotional reaction in Chicago.

i

“I’m stunned,” Moore: said, “It’s about

time..I just ‘hope I can go back into that.

courtroom now without breaking into tears.”

The high court’s ruling, in effect,’ freed
Reck, but the court added that Illinois should
have a chance to retry him, if the state wanted
to. f .

Moore said he figured a new trial would not
be held. He said there was no evidence against
Reck, only the confession, and: with ‘ this

thrown out, there would be nothing to try

him on. ;

The seven-to-two decision- affected only
Reck, who had battled 25 years for this event.
The other members of the quartet could only
wish him luck, and one of them, Goethe, could

-hot even do that: he died of a heart attack in

prison in‘ 1946. Livingston was freed in 1952
after serving 16 years-of his*30-year sentence,

And Nash is still doing his 199-year term.

At this ‘writing, Reck is in prison waiting

for the necessary time to run out: for the State

ah

of Illinois either to bring him to trial again
or open the penitentiary gates. But no matter
‘what the decision is, it will be a new and

“supremely more confident .Reck who faces the

future.

_ Not only has a high court accepted his
account of a forced confession, but a plastic
surgeon has visited Reck and,-with the in-
sertion of a three inch piece of bone, nicely.
corrected a badly formed nose. The Emil
Reck who will one day be handed freedom

. will bear little resemblance to the shovel-
- nosed youngster who had to wait a quarter

of a century for his story to be believed. m@

Epiror’s Note: The names Sanford Harrison
and Gary Jones as used in this story are not
the actual names of the persons who, in fact,
did participate in the incidents described in
this article. These names are used to protect
the identities of innocent persons.

‘Salesman of Death

continued from page Bt

extraordinary disappearance, six months be-
fore, of an extremely pretty 24-year-old girl
named Rosemary Spezzo. There was’ nothing
ordinary about that, either. The history of that
case, shrouded in mystery from the outset,
moved steadily toward shocking disclosures
and even more shocking revelations on the
part of the young man now on trial.

His present predicament could be traced to
the answers the young man:gave when asked
the question—what had he done on the after-
noon of June 22, 1956, in the hours after 3
p.mM.? It was a simple enough question, but
the ‘young man hadn’t handled it very well.
He’d given two versions. The first one might
have passed if he hadn’t cast doubt on it by
his later actions. The second version was a lulu
—and that was the one they’d accepted. There

wasn’t anything ordinary about that story; If-

it stood up in court, the defendant would have
been proved a monster. His future would be
dim indeed.

The people who assembled in court that day,
however, had reason to be assured of one
thing—before the trial was over, the young
man seated calmly at the defense table would
try to spin a third version. They didn’t know
what it would be, but he would have to come

up with something. His future was at stake .”

and if life itself meant anything to him at all,
he was going to have to come up with some
frantic verbal back pedaling.

The first information about Rosemary’s
disappearance reached the ears of the Yonkers
police in the early hours of June 23, 1956,
and the story conveyed in that original. re-
port admittedly” didn’t create much excite-
ment at Yonkers police headquarters. The
details were that Rosemary had left the house
at three o’clock the previous afternoon and
hadn’t yet returned—a period of something
less than 12 hours.

“How old is she?” the sergeant at the night
desk asked.

“Twenty-four.”

The sergeant wrote it down and,-although
he could appreciate the. concern the caller
felt, he knew from experience that. there
usually was only one reason why 24-year-old
girls didn’t come home when expected.

Rosemary, however, was a°good girl, who
had. no steady. boyfriend. And she never
had gone any place for ‘a considerable length
of time without giving word of her plans.

She had left the~house to go to the bank

a few minutes before three the - previous
afternoon, and had been carrying $300 in
her handbag.

When the police sergeant heard this last bit
of information, it seemed still more probable
than ever to him that Rosemary Spezzo: had
been planning an adventure for herself. But
he nevertheless took down the information
and entered it in the police blotter, assuring
the caller that an baveperestion would be
made

‘Early information fevedled that Rosemary
was a bright, responsible girl, deeply religious. :
She had gone to Hunter College and had a job
teaching in a parochial school. That summer

she had found a job as a cashier in a drug-

store in a large shopping center. She occa-
sionally dated boys in the neighborhood, but
she wasn’t serious about any of them.

Police were given a photograph of the girl
and told that she was small, wearing only a
size 5 dress.

ELATIVES and. friends’ were not sure

everything was being done to find the girl.
One of them decided to backtrack on the route
he thought likely the girl would have taken
when going to the bank, Along the way he
stopped at stores where he knew Rosemary
sometimes stopped. One: of these stops was
at a luncheonette where: she frequently ate
lunch. He asked the owner if Rosemary ‘had
been in-the prvious day.and the owner nodded.

“She was ‘here. She stayed about 15 or 20
minutes. She only had a cup. of coffee.”

“Did you see which way she went?”

The restaurant owner thought for a mo-
ment, then recalled that -he last had seen her
standing on a nearby corner talking to a
young man. F

“Do you know him?” é

“I.don’t know his name, but he comes in
here once in a while. In fact, he was in here
when Rosemary came in. I was talking to both
of them. When they left, they walked out-

side together and went over to the- corner
where he had his truck parked. He’s a coffee
salesman.”

“What is the name of the coffee company ?”

The manager told him, then added, “This
fellow drives a small, two-tone brown truck
or station wagon with the company’s name
printed on the side.”

A search began for the truck that started
by slowly touring the residential streets of
Yonkers and led eventually north into Mount

“Vernon and, at 1:30 Pm, ni truck was
- spotted.

The searchers parked behind the truck and
waited. A few minutes later a young man
came out of a building and started to get
in the coffee truck. :

He was approached and asked: “Do you
‘work in Yonkers?” :

The young man smiled ‘and said he did.
“Do you know Rosemary Spezzo?”
“Yes,”

“Were you talking to her yesterday?”

The young man paused, then admitted he
had been. He went on to say that he had had
a cup of coffee with her in the luncheonette
and they had walked out together afterward.
He remembered it clearly. They went as far
as his truck and stopped a minute to chat.
Then he got in and drove off.

“Did you see which way she went?”

“No, I didn’t.” —

“T thought maybe she’d gotten into your
truck. And then you could tell me where
she’d gone.”

The young man shook his head vigorously.

“She didn’t go with me.” Then, with some

impatience, he said that he had to get back
to work. “If I can help you in any way—” he
added reaching into his shirt pocket and hand-
ing the man a card.

On it was printed the name Edward Stevens,
an address on Purser Street in Yonkers and a
telephone number.

The card wasn’t thought to be of much use
but when it was learned that a coffee sales-
man once had asked: Rosemary for a date and
been indignantly refused because he was mar-
ried, it was decided to speak further with
Edward Stevens.

The numbe
recorded an!
number diale

A search o}
there was no
ser Street.

This, it we
police should
had passed nc

It was pos
innocent mis
been made,
note of the i
and officers
house at the

One officer
answered. He
the family w
about “Edwa

“Stevens? \
next door is
informed hir

“What doe

“He’s short
It was the
supplied for

“What doe

“He’s a co!

When the
with the rey
surface that
same person :
deliberately 1
police set ab

In the nex
more things
focus for the
never arrivec
For another
hadn’t been
two days.

Next day
request for |
in Newark, °
werth, or S
complaint th
man in West
his: receipts
at locating h
sumed that |}
receipts and

To the Yc
to shape up
was a chance
thing seemec
Eckwerth a
off together
receipts fron
about $285—
said she was
theorized th:
last a few w:
up. From ex
whirlwind f
money.

T was not

cepted by
that some g
also knew t
girl. She we
wouldn’t ha:
were certain

On Wedne
to Eckwert!
warrant for
ceipts and tr
looked dese
they had n
for the past


RTUNITIES

tive Magazines. Cir-
—2% Cash Discount.

.

Vv YORK 17, N. Y.

LD GOLD, WATCHES, ETC.

CASH for Old Gold, ‘Jewelry,
Watches, Diamonds, Silver-
les, Platinum, Mercury. FREE
ROSE REFINERS, Heyworth
10 2. :

gold, silver, platinum, scrap

coins. Information free.
1067-V Bridge St., Grand
chigan.

EATHERCRAFT

o-It-Yourself’’ Leathercraft
NDY LEATHER COMPANY,
), Fort Worth, Texas.

OANS BY MAIL”

$100 to $600 BY MAIL. Quick,
in

410 Kilpatrick Bldg., Dept.
2, Nebraska. .

‘icks, Jokers’ novelties. Cata-
? HAT, Evanston 18, Illinois.

des. Beauty queens, Listings.
x 384, Chicago 90. :

cooks and 50 samples. Send
2tails and first book. DELL
94 Kerr, Columbus, Ohio.

j—let your children sleep with-
ace from salesmen. Send $1.00

LLANEOUS WANTED

.VER, Platinum, Silver, Gold,
i. MERCURY Exchange, Nor-

AKING OPPORTUNITIES

-—home sparetime, assembling
Easy. Write. OUGOR, 67B,
‘kansas,

for Free Trial, to test in

cs
Tell your friends, make money.
BLAIR, Dept. 375ET, Lynch-

RIZE YOUR FIGURE_or add
ounds where needed! Improve
s, hips, Complete instructions
IA Company, Box 3255, San
Texas.’’

PERSONALS

letters remailed 25¢. 6—$1.00.
5, Box 2734, Tampa 1, Fla.

2IGHT—Send $1.00. NORPAT,
agnolia, Miss., for my proven
will be your best friend.

CLASSIFIED ADVERTISEMENTS

“MARRIAGE certificates.’ Birth cer-
tificates. Legal blank forms.. $2. NA-
TONAL Forms, Box 7072-FD, Miami 55.

a.

MEXICAN Legal Matters. A. ESPEJO.
Box 217-D, Tijuana, Mexico. .

BIG MONEY MAKING OPPORTUNITY.
Exclusive line uniforms, jackets, pants,
shirts, coveralls, sportswear. Advertisin:
embroidered. SE business prospect, Ge
Selling Outfit FREE! .TOPPS, Dept. 101-J,
Rochester, Indiana. , ‘ ;

MAKE BIG MONEY taking orders for

POEMS NEEDED IMMEDIATELY for
New Songs and Records. Send your poems
today for Free Examination and Aj .
SON , Acklen Station, Nash-
ville 12, Tenn. :

STAMP COLLECTING

115 Different 10¢, 1000 mixed 70¢. DELL
Harris, Oklawaha, Florida.

PORTRAITS Nee oa eic Mat Aoouae reaches,
“now grow an’ es, es,

Pears in their yards. ‘Ais Shad
hrubs, Vines, es, etc, Outfit FREE.

tf :
“STARE Bros;, Desk. 30102, Louisiana,| PO!

YOUR Portrait painted by gifted artist

Missouri.
on canvas. Genuine work of art. New low .

SONG STUDIO.

EMS WANTED. for musicat settin:
and recording by AMERICA’S LARGES

Send Poems.
amination. FIVE STAR MUSIC MASTERS, |

200 Different U. 8. sempe $1.00. Ap
rovals- included. SHELRON, Box 907-K,
ew York 8, N. Y.

FREE ex-

cost, Free particulars. CAN . Box .
223-D, Far Rockaway 91, N. Y. , MAKE EXTRA Money—Big Cash’ Com- 231 Beacon Building, Boston.
stator Peed kaverueos Jorn hatches = gXTLLION 2 FOREIGN STAMPS! 2¢ each!
oo en or ng, ant approv: {
REMAILING SERVICE sensational new  Tenorama,  Glamcur| POEMS WANTED, for musical setting | Stamps, Box 6000-KO, San Francisco 1,
ick daily sales; big. repeat business. and recording. Bend poems: FREE Ex- | Calif.
\ 5 SREE Master Kit makes selling easy-—no regia ssud btevet, CROSMEANT:
ILS 26¢, Postcards 10¢. ROBERT | experience necessary. SUPERIO MATCH. | 49 in nde dibabe  a

REMA:
Carter, Box 742, Los Angeles 53, Calif.

ary.
Dept. .JX1061, 7530 Greenwood, Chicago 19, |,

o

SECRET MAIL ADDRESS. $3 Month.
HEDGPETH, Box 830,-Alhambra 26, Call-
fornia.
competition.
yours al

tee—never again buy light _ bulbs, No
-milli

: SONGWRITERS— outstanding, ethical | , TERRIFI
SENSATIONAL new longer-burning Light | offer free. HIBBELER, C-12, 6808 Olean- Iceland-San Maxino— plas triangle set—
Bulb. Amazing Free Replacement Guaran- | der, Chicago 31,

gin-Scouts-Congo,
Russia—Plus lar; stamp book—all four

ulti ion dollar market
small fortune even

$1,000.00 a month for making dramatic
weight Presto Fire Extinguisher. ew

chemical used by Airforce snuffs out fires | $40.00 ina day even in
instantly. Only $4.95. Terrific commissions, | canvassing. ROG! Tailoring Co., | BU
Mi@ions want it. Free Kit. MERLITE, . Chi-

114 E. 32nd, Dept. P-66J, New York 16.

4

WILL you wear new suits, sport coats
3-second demonstration of amazing light- | without one penny cost and agree to show
them to friends? You can

500 South Throop St., Dept. C-32!
cago 7, Illinois. ‘

SONGWRITERS with b

vie eal one. Make
Spare time URLITE (Bulb Div). 114. | tects, want song ideas, Share. royalti
sales a MW Ved, wan eas. royalties.
SALESMEN. WANTED 32nd, Dept. C-74J, New York 16," No ‘fees. Send poems: BONGWHITERS'

offers free—Send 10¢ for mailing cost.
EMPIRE STAMP CORPORATION, Dept.
er con- | DG, Toronto, Canada.

make up to “SONGWR:

23
Dept, FI, 333 W. 66th St., New York 19, | catalog. NORTH A

WATCH REPAIRING

time, without | ced) Send eats ed writin PON .
are time, withou' lures. Send sample of your writing.
SINESS TEARS! SONG SERVI

‘CE, WATCH and clock repairing books. Free
ICAN, 2320-DL,

a
Milwaukee, Chicago 47, Ill.

(Continued from page 76)
meeting—what he had said to her, what she
had said to him—and the exact spot ‘where
she had been standing when he’d left her. It
was a gruelling routine and they deliberately
made it that way for they were out to wear
Eckwerth down. And when he’d performed
his scene for perhaps a dozen times they
moved him to the next stop on his coffee
route. They traced his every step, stopping
where he said he had stopped.

Eckwerth seemed to take the tiring routine
very well. Too well, in fact, for a young man
who was innocent, police felt.: They knew
Eckwerth realized he was a suspect iri Rose-
mary’s disappearance and, although he pro-
tested his innocence, he didn’t seem to mind.
being on the hot seat. Instead he seemed to be
concentrating on playing the game.

Eckwerth proved them wrong a few hours
and a few miles of walking the Yonkers streets
later. Unseen by them, a tremendous pressure
had been building up inside the suspect. Sud-
denly, with almost no warning, Eckwerth
cracked. Turning to the group of officers who
had been needling ‘him, he suddenly shouted,
“I can’t. stand any more of it. I'll tell’ you
where she is.”

The officers braced themselves. “Is she
alive?” one of them asked quickly.

Eckwerth didn’t bat an eye. “No. She's
dead.”

In that brief instant, story number one by
Eckwerth was destroyed. Police then heard
story number two. Story number one had been
hard to believe, harder to disprove. Story
number two, it developed, they could prove
all right, most of it, at least, because the proof
was in plain sight, once you knew where to
look for it,

“All right,”* Eckwerth began his story, “she
did get into the truck with me.”

His relationship with Rosemary was much
further advanced than a chaste flirtation, he
told them. They had met many times. On that
fateful afternoon she got into his truck and

they drove north on the Saw Mill Parkway to .
a lovers lane area just south of..Greenburgh,
N.Y. He took:a blanket out’ of the truck and
spread it on.the ground and made love to her.

The officers were reluctant to believe this
part of the story but Eckwerth swore by it.
Afterwards, he told them, they began to argue.

“One thing led to another and I got mad.
She got up and started to storm off. I started
after her and hit her with my fist. Then I
picked up a rock and hit her on the head.
I don’t ‘know. how many times . . . maybe
three.

“Then I picked her up and carried her 30
or 40 feet further into the woods.”

He dropped her and picked up a rock and
hit her three or four more times in the face
until she was dead, he related tensely. On the
way back to the truck he picked up-her hand-
bag, took $26 out of it and tossed it into the
bushes. Then he got into the coffee truck and
drove away to complete’ his rounds. Later, at
home, he took a bath, ate dinner and changed
his clothes, then went out for a ride.

“How did you sleep that night?” one of the
officers asked him.

“T slept okay.”

THE officers and their prisoner drove to.
Greenburgh, radioing to police headquar- ,
ters for other detectives and the county medi-

* cal examiner to join them. It didn’t take them

long to prove that at least one ‘point in the
suspect’s story was true. :
Rosemary: Spezzo’s body lay exactly where
Eckwerth had told them it would. Only a
few yards from a heavily traveled highway, it
had. gone undetected all during the summer.
The body was badly decomposed. She lay
on her stomach with her skirt pulled. up.
Eckwerth pointed to the bushes where he’d
tossed her handbag and one of the officers

. retrieved it. In it was Rosemary’s driver’s

license, a wallet with other identification, her
wrist: watch and her rosary ‘ bead ut no
money.

“What happened to the $300 she was carry-
ing?” they asked the prisoner.

“J didn’t know anything about it. All I
found was $26,” he insisted.

Eckwerth was taken to police headquarters
where he made a full confession to the crime,
signed it and was charged with first degree
murder.

Officials in the Westchester County District
Attorney’s office were skeptical of Eckwerth’s
statement about the girl having an affair. It
was not in keeping with her character at all.

Within the next few weeks, Eckwerth ap-
peared in court for an arraignment and hear-
ing and was indicted by a grand jury. He told
the court that he was without funds and could
not afford to hire counsel and the court ap-
pointed two lawyers to defend him.

Even if he had had all the money in the world
to hire counsel, Edward Eckwerth would have
been in a desperate situation. His own words
had led the detectives to Rosemary Spezzo’s
body. If he had stuck to his first story there
would have been almost no proof against him,
even if the body had been discovered. He
might have been a prime suspect, but police
probably wouldn’t have had enough evidence
to bring him to trial. But he’d cracked under
pressure.

As his trial opened, it was only speculation
how he might try to worm out of it. That
he could never go back to his first story was
obvious, but he’d had four months to dream
up a new one and spectators crowded the
courtroom to see what it might be.

The state’s case was presented simply. Eck-
-werth had been the last to see Rosemary. He
had confessed to her murder and had known
where to find her body.

The prosecutor also called to the stand the
young school teacher. whom Eckwerth had
met on the bus trip from Chicago to Oregon.
She told the court that she had noticed a cut
on his hand. Eckwerth apparently had not
been such a gallant Romeo on that trip. He
had told her his name was Edward Stevens and

79

in Portland, Ore., that an Edward Eckwerth;
who answered to the description on the wanted
circular, was being held in the Multnomah
County jail in' Rocky Butte for stealing a car.
Captain Joseph Domenico of the Yonkers
detective bureau contacted Oregon authorities
and found out that Eckwerth had been in jail
since July 11.

“Where was he when you picked him up?”
Domenico asked.

“We got him in Wheeler. The car was stolen

in Seattle and six days later a state trooper

picked him up at the beach.”

“Who was with him?”

“Nobody. He was alone.”

Eckwerth alone wasn’t exactly what the
Yonkers police had counted on.

That night Detective Albert Hoffarth and
Westchester County Assistant District At-
torney M. Morton Edmiston caught a plane
for Oregon. If it were the coffee salesman in
jail in Oregon, they might at last learn some-
thing about Rosemary’s disappearance. He 'was
the last man to be seen with her. They
couldn’t help but feel that he knew more than
he had told. Maybe he’d tell them what he
knew. ef

When Hoffarth and Edmiston arrived in
Oregon they found that Edward Eckwerth was

the man for whom they’d been looking» And -

sure, he told them amiably, he remembered
Rosemary Spezzo.

“Look, Eckwerth,” Hoffarth told him, “we
want you to tell us exactly what happened
with that girlk You may not know it, but
you’re on the hot seat. The girl disappears. one

day and you take off the next. We know you
were interested in her. We know that you tried
to date her. What happened?”

“What happened? Nothing happéned,” Eck-
werth declared. ‘ ;

“You tried to date her?” :

“Sure I did. I propositioned her, if that’s
what you’re talking about. Why not? She was
a good-looking, kid. She wouldn’t tumble. I
don’t mind admitting it. I-couldn’t get any
place with her.”

“Then why did you take off so suddenly ?”

This question gave Eckwerth pause. Then,
in a lower.voice he told them. “You guys
don’t know. what it’s like having a record.
Every time something . happened the police
would pick me up and ask me about it. When
I learned I’d been seen talking to her before

with her. I walked out with her and we talked
a minute or two. I was kidding her and trying
to get her to go out with me but she wouldn’t
have any of it. Then she left and I left. I
just went on working. The next day when I
discovered we’d been seen talking I just
took. off. Maybe I was ready to take off any-
way. I don’t know... .”

“What about the money that belonged to
.your employer?” :

“That’s gone. I picked up a girl and took
her to a motel. When I got up the next morn-
ing, she was gone. And so was the money
I had left, That was in Seattle. I decided to
hell with it and decided to steal a car.”

“You're charged with grand larceny in New
Jersey,” Hoffarth told him. “And Westchester
County wants to talk to you about Rosemary

she disappeared, I figured the cops would come~ —Spezzo.”

around hounding me. I couldn’t face that.
Things. were bad enough. as it »was without
that. . .

“T tell you I was trying. But it’s not easy
bucking a police record. It was hard for me
to get a good job. I wasn’t making anything
on the coffee route . .. I owed everybody
money ... I just couldn’t get ahead. And
besides, I had to spend one night painting
the landlord’s apartment’ because I was. be-

hind in the rent. That’s a hell of a way to

lives a3i."

He stopped and looked searchingly at the

detectives, then went on. “I didn’t have any-
thing to do with that girl. That’s the honest
truth: What I told before was absolutely
true. I saw her in the luncheonette and I sat

Eckwerth looked around him at the bleak
jail walls. “I’m ready to go any time you are.
T’'ll be glad to get out of Oregon ... and you

-can quote me on that.”

HAT evening, they did quote him on that,

in a phone conversation with Captain
Domenico, and they quoted everything else
Eckwerth had told them as well.

A few days later, arrangements were com-
pleted to bring Eckwerth back to New York.
When he arrived with the detectives he was
taken to Yonkers and held on a charge of
grand larceny in connection with the theft of
his company’s funds and the truck. But the
officers weren’t talking. much about that. They
were interested in what he had done in the
few hours after he last had been seen talk-

No. 30
GIVE HIh

ay ing to Rosemary Spezzo. @ Evan Cv
They talked to Eckwerth for several hours, he was impz
repeatedly going over that particular time. lishman, he
When they were finished, they had a 50-page War I Bud:
document in which Eckwerth’s statements Vukas. Mag<
were recorded in great detail. It was essentially an extraordi
the same story he had’ given the detectives in mercenary
Oregon with a few new disclosures. He said, his life to s)
SES PEF a he’d taken a train to New York City and from They were
- ‘there a bus to Chicago. In Chicago he boarded 1907, and P
a bus for Portland, Ore., and sat down’ beside new stated)
a young school teacher from Chicago who was ent possible.
-on-her way to a convention in Portland. second with
By the time they’d arrived in Seattle he had But Vuka:
talked her into getting off the bus and spend- to go on ho}
ing.a few days with him. Later they visited But his d:
with some friends. of hers and then they gave the el
parted. A few days later, he said, he picked up many years
the girl who had robbed him of his money. self Eearnir
The one part of his story that Eckwerth held shopping a
',to throughout his 50-page statement was his - Cullen. Wh
denial of having had anything to do with then: feel ol
Rosemary, Spezzo’s disappearance. And there to take care
was little he had to prove in his statement -be- Cullen de:
cause the crucial moments were not ones cov- safer in his
vered by a provable alibi. He simply had the old man
walked out of the luncheonette with Rosemary He'd set his
that day, had gotten into his truck and driven bast” hie d ‘
off from her... : The' elderly
It was hard for the police to prove that. the when he nd
missing girl had gotten into the truck, too, and eee in
when there were no witnesses. The only thing been turned
to bolster their suspicion. was the fact that light-heartec
he had run away. He was a running man. ‘ee were
If Eckwerth were innocent, rather than guilty, on A M
they .reasoned, let him act out his innocence, he did Sota
‘just as they would require a guilty ‘man to. Cullen de
act out his guilt, risk waitin
Next morning, Eckwerth was put in a squad A few 4
car and taken to the luncheonette where he weekend in
said. he had last seen Rosemary. The police and Cullen
; again wanted to hear all the facts of that nation thet
“Where did you stay in Florida?” i (Continued on page 79) ters to take
a ae meyer oe

g him to trial again
gates. But no matter
will be a new and
- Reck who faces the

court accepted his
fession, but a plastic
k and,-with the in-
piece of bone, nicely.
ied nose. The Emil
be handed freedom
ance to the shovel-
.d to wait a quarter
-y to be believed. M

nes Sanford Harrison
in this story are not
persons who, in fact,
ncidents described in
; are used to protect
nt persons,

over to the- corner
parked. He’s a coffee

the coffee company ?”
n, then added, “This
wo-tone brown truck
the company’s name

he truck that -started_
residential streets of
uly north into Mount
p.mM., the truck was

behind the truck and
later a young man
z and started to get

and asked: “Do you

d and said he did.
mary Spezzo?”

her yesterday ?”

sed, then admitted he
o say that he had had
2r in the luncheonette
ut together afterward.
‘ly. They went as far
ed a minute to chat.
ve off.

way she went?”

ae’d gotten into your
could tell me where

k his head vigorously.
ie.” Then, with some
t he had to get back
you in any way—” he
shirt pocket and hand-

name Edward Stevens,
:reet in Yonkers and a

ght to be of much use
ad that a coffee sales-
»semary for a date and
1 because he was mar-
o speak further with

The number on the card was dialed, but a
recorded announcement reported” that the
number dialed was not a’ working number.

A search of the phone book was made, but
there was. no Edward Stevens listed for Pur-
ser Street.

This, it was decided, was information the
police should have, especially since 24 hours
had passed now since Rosemary was last seen.

It was possible, the. police knew, that an.
innocent mistake of some sort might have
been made, but. the officer on duty made
note of the information printed. on the card
and officers were sent around to the small
house at the Purser Street address.

One officer rang the door bell but nobody
answered. He went next door and talked to
the family who lived there; making inquiries
about “Edward Stevens.”

“Stevens? Who’s Stevens? The guy who lives
next door is named. Eckwerth, ” the neighbor
informed him.

“What does he look like?” va
“He’s short and stocky and has blond hair.”
It was the same description that had been

supplied for Stevens.

“What does he do for a living?”

‘He’s a coffee route salesman.”

When the officers returned to headquarters
with the report, it began to appear on. the
surface that Eckwerth. and Stevens were the
same person and, moreover, that Eckwerth had
deliberately tried to conceal his identity. The
police set about finding out why.

In the next two days they learned a few

more things about the case that put it in .

focus for them. For one thing, Rosemary had
never arrived at the bank to deposit her $300.
For another, Edward “Stevens” Eckwerth

- hadn’t been. at his Purser Street home for

two days.

Next day the Yonkers officers received a
request for help from the police department
in Newark, N.J. The coffee firm which Eck-
werth, or Stevens, worked for had made a
complaint ‘that Edward: Eckwerth, the. route
man in Westchester, had failed to show up with
his receipts and his truck and that attempts
at locating him had failed: The-company_pre-
sumed that. Eckwerth had absconded with: the
receipts and wanted him arrested.’ ~.

To the Yonkers police, the situation began

to shape up more clearly. They’ knew there
was a chance they could be wrong, but every-’
thing seemed to point to the likelihood that

Eckwerth and. Rosemary Spezzo had. taken .

off together.’ Presuming. Eckwerth had the
receipts from. the coffee route—estimated at
about $285—and Rosemary had the $300-she
said she was going to put in the bank, police

theorized that the whirlwind. romance would
last a few weeks at most before it would break -

up. From experience the police knew that such
whirlwind flings last. about as long -&s the.
money.

i was not, however, a theory that was ac-
cepted by Rosemary’s friends. They knew
that some girls did things like that, but they
also knew that Rosemary was not just any

girl. She was a good girl—really good. She ,

wouldn’t have run away with Eckwerth, they
were certain. «

On Wednesday, Mount Veriibii police went
to Eckwerth’s house to serve him with a
warrant for absconding with his company’s re-
ceipts and truck. When they arrived, the house
looked deserted. Neighbors informed: them
they had not seen anyone around the place
for the past two days. The door was unlocked,

ed

so the officers went in. One look told them the
place had been vacated—and in furious haste.

Odds and ends of clothing’ and some pieces of
‘furniture-were still there. But everything a

family needed to sustain life had been taken
away. ."’

A routine chick of Eckwerth’s. past was
begun. New ‘York City police files revealed
some surprising facts: Eckwerth had ‘been
wanted by the police before. In fact, the war-
rant against him for theft of a truck and his
employer’s money stood as a comparatively

minor charge. He had spent three years in ’

Elmira Reformatory (1945 to 1948) for auto
theft. On January 11, 1955 a woman “fell”
from his car. Fell was the only thing that was
proved, but there apparently had been. official
suspicion that she had been pushed from the
vehicle.

Ti incident seemed violent behavior for a
+ mild-mannered coffee salesman. But not so
violent as the next ‘item on his record which
concerned the robbefy of a tavern in Walden,
N.Y. The tavern owner was a middle-aged
woman who ‘hobbled from tap: to tap on a
pair of crutches because she’d fallen and brok-
en her leg..Eckwerth came into the tavern on
June 18,- 1955, knocked, her down, beat her
into submission, then took all,the money out
of the till and fled. He didn’t stop. running
until he’d reached California some weeks later.
He holed up there for a while, came back east

- to Miami, then back to Los Angeles, where

he. finally was. arrested. Returned to Orange
County, N.Y., he promptly admitted the crime
and pleaded guilty to charges of Jarcenous
assault. For some reason that did not appear

_on his record, he was given a suspended sen-

tence of five to eight years.

There were six more arrests Gnd two more
convictions on Eckwerth’s. record.

With this information, the police became
highly interested in him. Checking with other
customers. on Eckwerth’s coffee route, they
discovered that Rosemary Spezzo was not the
first pretty girl who had attracted the coffee
salesman’s wandering eye. All up and down

_the. route, the officers discovered, Edward
“Eckwerth had scattered sweet nothings and
; propositions to. anyone who stood still long

enough to -hear ‘him. Eckwerth didn’t care
if-his ‘attractive customers liked it with sugar

and cream or. just. strong and black—if they,

bought the coffee he peddled. they just might
buy. his line of glib romantic talk. And the
fact’ that they didn’t fall for. it in droves
didn’t seem to stop him, Eckwerth, apparent-
ly, was irrepressible. And police wondered if
he had been able to talk pretty Rosemary
Spezzo into. running away with him by his
“ persistence.

A few days later, the coffee truck was found
abandoned at the Mount Vernon railroad
station. where employers told police it had

_been parked for the past few days...

Police sent out a 13-state alarm for Eck-

_werth, and for information ‘on Rosemary

Spezzo. The summer passed with no. one re-

porting back that they had spotted the pair.’

In mid-August, a relative of Eckwerth re-
ported to police that he had received a letter

-from him: There was no information -in the
letter about. ‘where. he was living, what he

was doing, or if Rosemary were with him,
but it had been postmarked Seattle, Wash.
Yonkers police decided that they would extend
the alarm to the West Coast.

A few days after the alarm was extended to

the West Coast, word was received from police .

GET yoursetF FIXED FOR LIFE
IN THE BIG PAY SHOE BUSINESS

With ‘the ‘most amazing I-t aby hd WE GIVE
in the history of the shoe business =| PRODUCERS
sake. i ichoding sea cut-e- [THEIR OWN
ways, furnished free! the bis-pay AS A BONUS
ONTHO-VENT man in your territory.
rite, TODAY:
ORTHO-VENT SHOE COMPANY
10110 Brand Read, Salem, Virginia

é se San Son oe
TRIPLE FLANGED EARSTOPPLE
SHUTS OUT NOISE. 3 TIMES!!

At last in answer to lar demand: A_ triple-flanged
sound \apeegerd er, pert solid, no holes. oa a nn.

flanges just about end noises from traffic,
dogs, kids, radios,’ noisy ‘neighbors, airpla Me Col-
lapsible inner flange insures perfect fit. Triple holding
. power them fon falling out. Soft rubber, comfortable

must stop noise sa heen Classe or mnowey, yack. ‘hoasencs of
satisfied customers. Only $1.25 postpaid.

TRIPLE FLANGERS, Dept. 49
2611 Tilden Ave., Los Angeles 64, Callf.

You Can Havea

HE-MAN VOICE

STRENGTHEN your voice this
tested scientific way. Yes—you
may now be able to improve
the POWER of your annette

privacy of your room! Self-
training lessons, mostly silent.
No mpsio required.

K!
Write today for Eugene Feuch let ‘‘How
to Devel i Successful Voice. Pees, th suotutely Fieet oe
will, othe you, eco your

“PREFECT VOICE INSTITUTE
325 W. Jackson Blvd., Studio KN-8, Chicago 6, fil.

STUDY FOR THE DEGREE

of Doctor of Psychology (Ps.D. ma Doctor of Meta-

physics (Ms.D.). or Doctor of ‘Divinity (D.D.).

Correspondence courses only. Write for complete

details.

COLLEGE OF DIVINE METAPHYSICS, Dot. o- 10,
2811 N. Hlinois St., Indianapolis 8, Indian

See Veeoeesee

Chartered by The State Of Indiana in sie”
err ee ee

OLD LEG TROUBLE

Easy to use Viscose Applications
may heal many old leg sores due
to venous congestion of varicose
veins, leg swelling or injuries.
Send today for FREE Book and
full-refund Trial Plan.

D.T. VISCOSE COMPANY

740 North Rush Street - Chicage 11, illinois

ARTHRITIS

Please write for my free information
I am an arthritic and am only too familiar with
the physical misery and emotional despair of my
complaint. I tried so many things. Then one day a
friend in pharmacal cinctes told me about a wonder-

’ ful medicine for giving hours-long relief in easing

the minor pains and soreness of arthritis, rheuma-
tism, neuralgia, neuritis, lumbago or bursitis.

I am so grateful I want to tell everyone “ore
Norkon and my ‘whole remarkable experience and
how thousands of others are now praising it, too.
Please write for full information. It costs
-and you may win so much. No obligation whatso-
ever. Just send your name and address to:

Paul McCoy, Apt. 4910 11 W 42 St. NY 36

75

that he was an interior decorator, one tempo-
rarily without funds, and had touched her for
a loan of ten dollars.

Eckwerth was the only defense witness. In
a dramatic and truly moving way, he told the

court a little about himself. His early years. -

had been tough at times, even tragic. He told
the court of suffering severe punishment for
minor disobediences. When he was eight years
old he was committed to the Children’s
Village, a reform institution in Dobbs Ferry,
N.Y. He stayed there on and off for a total
of four years. .

WEN Eckwerth ‘had begun talking, the
courtroom had expected something dra-
matic, but they frankly were not prepared -for
what they heard.
He truly was a monster, if they were to
believe the prosecutor’s story; but even a mon-

ster, they were finding out, could say something —

that could turn cold horror into pity. Many
women in the courtroom wept, but the room
was absolutely quiet. In a quiet, sincere voice
Eckwerth took them from one tragic scene
in his childhood to another.,When he was old
enough to drive, they learned, he began steal-
ing cars. After what they had heard, it didn’t
seem like such an awful thing. He described
his early arrests, his marriage and. eventully
got to his relationship with Rosemary Spezzo.

He said that he had made love to her twice
before their last date. Toward the latter part
of April, 1956, the romantic interludes’ had
taken place, two weeks after they first had
met. The second of those times was at the

same lovers lane where her. body had been

found. He had told her he’ was married and
asthe court listened attentively he told what
her reaction had been, “She said she didn’t
like to go out with married men, but that she
liked me.” atts

Finally, Eckwerth got to the-crucial part of .

his story, relating the events of June 22, 1956.
On that day, Eckwerth testified, he and Rose-
mary met in the luncheonette by prearrange-
ment. When they left they went to a cocktail
lounge in Yonkers. There he had five bottles
of beer’and she had several drinks ‘of vodka
and orange juice. . Wie :

“What did you talk about?” his attorney-
asked.

“We talked about us.”

“Love, marriage, sex or what ?”:

“All three. She told me about being a clerk ~

in a drugstore’ and how the men up there
were always flirting and trying-to get fresh
with her. I said ‘What do you expect?’ and
she said that was al! they were after. So one
thing led to another.”= - -

When they left the ‘cocktail lounge, Eck-
werth testified, they drove to the lovers lane
near Greenburgh. 3

The story already had shown signs of change
and the court began to hear. Eckwerth’s third
and final version of Rosemary Spezzo’s death.

He took the blanket from the back of the -

truck and spread it out on the ground and
made love to her he said. Then he got up and
walked off into the woods a little way. He was
gone for the length of time it took him to
smoke a cigaret. When he came. back Rose-

mary was off the blanket, lying doubled up
on her side.. He called to her but she didn’t
answer. Eckwerth said that it was at that
moment that he panicked.

“T got down and tried to feel for her pulse.
I tried to revive her by rubbing ‘her wrists,
but I couldn’t. I’m sure she was dead.”

He-rolled her body up in. the blanket, car-
ried it to his truck and put it in- back and
drove. off.

He drove home, then took a bath and had
dinner.

Later that. evening he got back into his
truck and started back to Greenburgh. The
ride he’d earlier told detectives he’d taken
before his “good night’s sleep” really was. to
dispose of Rosemary’s body, he insisted. With
the aid of a flashlight he had eased her out
of the blanket onto the ground.

So far his testimony was in accordance
with the physcial facts. But the court already
knew from. medical testimony that Rose-
pci skull had been: battered with a heavy
rock,

How, in his~ story of fond, love-making
and sudden death, could he explain those rock
blows, the spectators wondered.

“I found a rock and: beat her in the face
with it so nobody could recognize her,” Eck-

.werth explained under questioning:

THs admission of violence -to the girl he’d

made love to that same afternoon even
though now she was dead, probably did much
to sppil the effect of Eckwerth’s third ver-

sion of the slaying. The jury probably had.

begun to accept the fact that he was, after
all, a human being and not a monster. And it
was easier to believe that he had, as the prose-
cution said, killed her with a rock during an
argument,.than that he had cold bloodedly
mutilated her face later in an inhuman effort
to save his own. neck.

«His original confession, he claimed, was
made under duress. He claimed Yonkers police
had beaten him with “fists and a rubber hose,”
and further “told me that I was a bum and
a tramp and made me feel I had been a com-
plete failure all my life. I felt I was a coward
and could not face reality. So I confessed.”

The cross-examination dealt mainly with
Eckwerth’s conténtion that he had confessed
under duress.

When the defense rested its case, Eck-
werth had been talking for five days, giving
explicit details of his third story.

The jury’s job was clear cut. It was simply
a matter of deciding which version of Eck-
werth’s story they should believe. Eckwerth
had spent five days trying to un-tell the story
he told in a few short hours to the Yonkers
police—a story that had all the elements neces-
sary to send him to the electric chair.

The jury took just three hours to make up
its mind. ~ — % ;

Eckwerth’s five days had been in vain.

He was guilty of murder in the first degree,
the jurors ruled, and they made no recom-
mendation for mercy. Even the mitigating
circumstances in his childhood had, been aired

‘for nothing it seemed.

On February 13, 1957, Eckwerth was sen-
tenced to die in the electric chair.
For more than’two years, Eckwerth’s court

‘ appointed lawyers tried to save him. On May

22, 1959, at 9:30 p.m. after all legal resources
had been exhausted, Edward Eckwerth died
in the electric chair at Sing Sing without tell-
ing anyone any additional versions of the
tragic death of Rosemary Spezzo. i |

“You
My job’:
the insu
my 1.03

This
probabl:
graduat«
situatio
with I.
advanta;

Why?
your pre
portant |
make the

For Rea!

E

Without c

ARC}

andeE

CON:
O Air Cor
O Archite
O Arch. C

Design
D Buildin
O Buildin
© Carpen
O Carpen
OC Heating
O Paintin
OD Plumbi
O Readin;

ART
D Comme
OD Magazi:
O Sign Pa
O Sketchi

AUTO
0D Automo
O Auto Be

and Ref
D Auto En
D Auto El
O Diesel E

Name__

City

Occupation

eect


>
~~»
¥,

&
urge. He told Orange up with a prodigious hangover and a book. He made a U-turn and set off state. Eckwerth was taken to the Mult-
torney Abraham Is- oe pea Pi a long drinking bout. in hot pursuit. Finally he caught up nomah County jail in Portland to await

been too drunk to Questioning him, police assured them- with the speeding car and forced it to trial. But by the middle of August
s doing. He offered selves that he knew nothing of the the side of the road. he had not yet been taken into court.

missing girl and sent him home to The driver presented an operator’s At the time of his arrest Eckwerth

rought to trial be- whatever punishment his wife might license which bore the name of Ed- _had less than $5 in his pocket. Now
2 Raphael A. Egan, mete out. ward Eckwerth and a New York State he was completely broke. This was
expanded to grand Since the only charge against Eck- address. He had, he explained, left not an unusual condition for him, still
cst degree and as- werth at the moment was that of ap- the automobile registration at home. it was unpleasant. He borrowed some
d degree. He was propriating the receipts of the coffee The trooper looked at the license paper, a pencil and a stamp. He wrote
sentenced to 5 to company, his disappearance had plate, then took a sheet of paper from a letter to his family in Mount Vernon
itentiary. However, d aroused no national interest. The New his pocket. He said, “Where did you asking that they send him some money
terence in his cham- York press and that of neighboring get this car?” immediately.

suspended execu~- states played it up for two weeks, then “T bought it from some fellow back On Saturday morning, August 18th,
ree and placed the dropped it. The original 13-state East about a month ago,” said Eck- the postal inspector at the Mount
finite probation. alarm for Rosemary Spezzo remained werth. Vernon post office spotted Eckwerth’s
co, after examining in force, but was not extended. “According to my information,” said letter. On the back of the envelope
requested that the Detective Sergeant Patrick Christo- the officer, “this car was stolen in __was inscribed a return address, Mult-
ost a constant watch pher was put in charge of the case. Portland day before yesterday.” nomah County Jail, Oregon. The post-
rnon home of Eck- But two weeks after both the girl and Edward Eckwerth insisted that there al inspector immediately notified
‘e intended to do the Eckwerth had vanished he had un- must be some mistake. The trooper Westchester’s District Attorney Joseph
werth’s Purser Place earthed only one additional item of remarked that if such was the case it Gagliardi. Gagliardi in turn communi-
t it was learned that information. A local tradesman had could easily be cleared up. But, in. the cated with District Attorney William
{ her baby had given complained that Eckwerth had given meantime, Eckwerth would be taken Langley in Portland. He told Lang-
ind gone to stay with him a worthless check for $20 on Sat- to the jail in the nearby town of Rocky ley of Westchester’s larceny warrant
mn’ reached there by urday, the day Eckwerth disappeared. Butte. against Eckwerth and also requested
kwerth said bitterly Now, it happened that Edward Eck- Eckwerth was placed in a cell and that the prisoner. be questioned re-
always was running werth was arrested on July 1]th. He a check was made. There was no mis- garding the disappearance of Rose-
woman, and that she was arrested by an Oregon state troop- take. The car which Eckwerth had’ mary Spezzo.

him. j er who had no knowledge that his been driving had been stolen in down- On Monday morning, Eckwerth was
acting on Dominico’s prisoner was wanted by the Westches- town Portland two days earlier. He brought into Langley’s office. He con-
{ with the United ter police. The trooper, driving along was charged with car theft, held in ceded that he had stolen $268 of the
2ctors. The inspec- his beat near Tillamook, Oregon, noted $5,000 bail, which he could not raise. Cook Coffee Company’s rec ipts, denying
sample of Eckwerth’s a car coming toward him which was The court calendars in Oregon are = any knowledge of Rosemary Spezzo’s
requested to report exceeding every speed limit in the . as crowded as those in many another whereabouts. (Continued on page 64)
‘essed to his family - ;

Mount Vernon post
antime, the missing tig -

found at the New “It was then,” he said, as D.A. Gagliardi (r.) examined girl’s purse, “I decided to kill her.” Rock on table was murder weapon
ition in Mount Ver- : . Bo i SL
ed to the Cook com- : Win «OC ‘ ig) SA Feet ots She ; NR
aplaint charging its “t CRE eee 2 Be " 04 L% ry :
ed. However, the ‘ a >, Be ‘

theft of the coffee wi ney

remained in effect.

rect evidence of foul
e disappearance of
vas connected in any
ien flight of Edward
al Westchester resi-
with Mrs. Eckwerth’s
isband was “running
xther woman.” But
" Rosemary’s* parish
o knew the girl well
t Rosemary had not
with Eckwerth. The
iat she either was a
ay, or had suffered
sia. On two previous
d suffered such at-

sed.

> insisted that Rose-
risk going any dis-
igth of time, without
hypodermic syringe.
ad taken none of her
very small girl, she
was always difficult,
aring apparel.
‘oughly searched the
ag no clues, although
cords in order. And
morning the missing
nee salesman showed

. BY D.L.CHAMPION

HE REPUTATION of Rose-
‘mary Spezzo was spotless in
the neighborhood where she
lived. She was a tiny, attractive
brunette, 24 years old and weigh-
ing just 90 pounds. She lived with
her parents at 52 Edgewood Ave-
nue in Yonkers, New York. She
was devoutly religious, a parish-
ioner of St. Mary’s Church in
Mount Vernon, and she was a
third-grade teacher in a Bronx
parochial school.
At 3 o’clock on June 22nd, 1956,
Rosemary Spezzo set out for the First
National Bank to deposit a $300 check

_.she had received from her school.
Three hours later she was due to re-

:. port at a pharmacy in the Cross County

Center, where she had just obtained
a summer job as cashier.

Rosemary walked some’ two blocks, .

then decided to buy some chewing

“"LL SHOW YOU

WHERE THE BODY

LIES”

- Was it coincidence that the frail

schoolteacher and the chronic Casanova

disappeared on the same day?

gum. On the face of it, this was a
casual decision. Actually, it was the
most fateful decision she had ever
made in her life. She entered the
store’ and spoke to the proprietor,
whom she knew quite well. And at
that moment Edward F. Eckwerth
came in and bought a pack of ciga-
rettes,

Eckwerth, 29, who lived in Purser
Place in Yonkers, was a salesman for
the Cook Coffee Company of Newark.
He made regular calls in this neigh-
borhood and was casually acquainted
with Rosemary Spezzo and the candy
store proprietor. They left the store
together and walked to Yonkers Ave-
nue near Crescent Place. It was there

that Eckwerth’s panel truck was
parked,
A barber, whose shop is in that

vicinity, glanced out the window and
saw the couple climb into the truck.
If he thought about it at all, it was
merely that Eckwerth was giving Miss
Spezzo a lift downtown.

At 7 o’clock that night the manager
of the pharmacy made a telephone call

oT Jae

to’ the Spezzo home. Rosemary’s
father, Anthony Spezzo, answered. The
store manager wanted to know why
Rosemary had not reported for work.
This was a question that Anthony
Spezzo could not answer. Certainly
his daughter had intended to go to
work that evening, he said.

Spezzo discussed this surprising
news with his wife. Both of them
became worried. Rosemary was a
responsible and punctual girl. More-
over, she suffered from diabetes. Her

mother knew she had no insulin with:

her when she left the house. She had
intended to buy some on the way to
the bank.

When no word had been heard from
Rosemary by 11 o’clock that night,
Anthony Spezzo left his home and
canvassed the neighborhood. One of
the people to whom he spoke was the
candy store proprietor where Rose-
mary had bought the chewing gum.

“Sure, I saw her,” said the store
owner. “While she was in here that
coffee salesman came in. You know,
that fellow that sells Cook’s coffee.

.T

3
*
*
&
£

“~


va

ezzo home. Rosemary’s
my Spezzo, answered. The
er wanted to know why
id not reported for work.
question that Anthony
i not answer. Certainly
- had intended to go to
‘ening, he said.
scussed this surprising
1is wife. Both of them
ried. Rosemary was a
ind punctual girl: More-
fered from diabetes. Her
* she had no insulin with:
e left the house. She had
buy some on the way to

vord had been heard from
y 11 o'clock that night,
ezzo left his home and
e neighborhood. One of
» whom he spoke was the
proprietor where Rose-
ought the chewing gum.
aw her,” said the store
dle she was in here that
an came in. You know,

that sells Cook’s coffee.

e

oye”

ests

ae ee

>
»
t

iy!

When killer led them to wooded spot where body of missing Rosemary Spezzo (below) was found, po!

They talked and went out together.”

“You mean Eckwerth?”

“Yes, that’s his name. They went
down to Yonkers Avenue together.”

Anthony Spezzo went down to Yonk-
ers Avenue, too, questioning every
storekeeper on the way. He learned
from the barber that Rosemary and
Eckwerth had driven off in the coffee
truck. Spezzo returned home and re-
ported his findings to his wife and
Rosemary’s sister, Catherine, who was
19. They came to no conclusion. They
all knew Eckwerth casually. He was
a pleasant, neat young man who called
regularly to deliver coffee at the house.
There was no reason to connect him
with Rosemary’s disappearance.

At 8 o'clock on Saturday morning
Anthony Spezzo, who had not gone
to bed, decided that he could stand the
anxious suspense no longer. He looked

up the address of Edward Eckwerth |

in the telephone directory,: left the
house and boarded a bus for Purser
Piace.

Edward Eckwerth opened his door,
clad in bathrobe and pajamas. He

ai

PS oe, Wt a ss
Mag » ‘e ' - nye 6 " .
wT SY ieee tina ¥

appeared surprised but amiable. When
Spezzo told him the purpose of the
call, he became solicitous. “That’s
right,” he said. “I met her in the store
yesterday afternoon. She told me she
was going to the bank, so I gave her
a ride downtown.”

That was all the information that
Eckwerth could contribute. Spezzo
returned home. At 10 o'clock in the
morning he called the police.

A 13-state missing persons alarm _
was immediately broadcast by the
Yonkers police. A check with the
officials of the First National Bank re-
vealed the fact that Rosemary had
never arrived there.
visited the drugstore where she usu-
ally purchased her insulin, Oat

During the afternoon Detectives Al-
bert Hoffarth and Robert Maitre
called at the Purser Place address to
question Eckwerth. Eckwerth was not
there. His wife and 2-year-old daugh-
ter were. Mrs. Eckwerth told the offi-
cers that her husband probably was
out on his coffee route. He had left
the house that morning while she still

Nor had she

rye

> a

*

iS

lice t

oe
Ik.

careful measurement


10

“J want no more to do with him,”

slept. Hoffarth asked her to request
her husband to get in touch with the
Yonkers detective bureau when he
returned.

But Eckwerth ‘did not return. Three
days later Charles Port, manager of
the Cook Coffee Company, came from
Newark to Yonkers and swore out a
warrant for Eckwerth’s arrest. The
warrant charged him with theft of the
company’s panel truck and two days’
cash receipts, amounting to approxi-
mately $300.

An hour later the wife of a New
York insurance salesman telephoned
Detective Captain Joseph A. Dominico
to report that. her husband apparently

‘had disappeared on the day that Rose-.

mary Spezzo vanished. Dominico as-
signed two men to check on the miss-
ing insurance man. He checked on
Eckwerth, himself.

The coffee salesman, he found, had
a record of nine arrests. ‘The charges
were grand larcerty, robbery, assault
and auto theft. In most of the cases
restitution had been made and, at the
moment, Eckwerth was on indefinite
probation.

The most significant of these con-
victions was Eckwerth’s last, for an
offense which had been committed on
January 19th, 1955. On that day Mrs.
Daisy Stephens was tending the bar
and restaurant operated in conjunc-
tion with a motel on Route 52 in
Orange County. Mrs. Stephens, who
was a tenant and a friend of the owner,
was 45 years old and crippled as the
result of an illness. She walked only
with the aid of crutches.

wife of confessed slayer sobs in ear with father

. Eckwerth walked into the tavern and
ordered blackberry brandy with a
beer chaser. He drank a lot and
talked a lot. He represented himself

as a well-known night club singer. -

When he finished his drinks, he ordered
a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee.
Moving slowly on her crutches, Mrs.
Stephens went toward the kitchen.
As she did so, Eckwerth attacked her
without warning. |

He slugged her half a dozen times,
breaking her jaw and knocking her
to the floor. Then he made a clumsy
effort to open ‘the cash register, but
it was locked. Then he seized Mrs.
Stephens’ handbag, which contained
$150, revenue from the motel cabins.
Before running from the scene he
bent over the bleeding woman and
snatched two diamond rings from her
fingers.

Mrs. Stephens did not know Eck-
werth, but several people in the area
did. His wife had come from a near-
by town, and the coffee salesman had
been a frequent visitor in the neigh-
borhood. Two people who knew him
by sight saw him come out of the
restaurant. Later, when the robbery
was discovered, they were able’ to
identify him for the police.

.The Westchester authorities were
promptly notified. A check on Eck-

werth’s previous arrests indicated that °

whenever he was in trouble he ap-
pealed to his family in Mount Vernon
for help. A stakeout was put on the
Mount Vernon house and on March

. 25th, 1955, Edward Eckwerth showed

up there. He was arrested on a first-

ee ay

degree robbery charge. He told Orange
County District Attorney Abraham Is-
secks that he had been too drunk to
know what he was doing. He offered
no other defense.

When he was brought to trial be-
fore County Judge Raphael A. Egan,
the charges were expanded to grand
larceny in the first degree and as-
sault in the second degree. He was
found guilty and sentenced to 5 to
8 years in the penitentiary. However,
after a private conference in his cham-
bers, Judge Egan suspended execu-
tion of the sentence and placed the
defendant on indefinite probation.

Captain Dominico, after examining
Eckwerth’s file, requested that the
state police again post a constant watch
on the Mount Vernon home of Eck-
werth’s family. He intended to do the
same thing at Eckwerth’s Purser Place
home address. But it was learned that
Mrs. Eckwerth and her baby had given
up the apartment and gone to stay with
her mother. When’ reached there by
reporters, Mrs. Eckwerth said bitterly
that her husband always was running
around with some woman, and that she
was through with him.

The state police, acting on Dominico’s
request, consulted with the United
States postal inspectors, The inspec-
tors were given a sample of Eckwerth’s
handwriting and requested to report
if any letter addressed to his family
came through the Mount Vernon post
office. In the meantime, the missing
panel truck was found at the New
Haven railway station in Mount Ver-
non. It was returned to the Cook com-
pany and the complaint charging its
theft was canceled. However, the
warrant for the theft of the coffee
company’s money remained in effect.

There was no direct evidence of foul
play or that the disappearance of
Rosemary Spezzo was connected in any
way with the sudden flight of Edward
Eckwerth. Several Westchester resi-
dents went along with Mrs. Eckwerth’s
theory that her husband was “running
around with another woman.” But
the Spezzo family, Rosemary’s * parish

_ priest, and all who knew the girl well

were positive that Rosemary had not
voluntarily eloped with Eckwerth. The
family believed that she either was a
victim of foul play, or had suffered
an attack of amnesia. On two previous
occasions she had suffered such at-
tacks, they disclosed.

Her mother also insisted that Rose-
mary would not risk going any dis-
tance, for any length of time, without
her medicine and hypodermic syringe.
In addition, she had taken none of her
clothes. Being a very small girl, she
wore Size 5. It was always difficult
for her to buy wearing apparel.

Police had thoroughly searched the
panel truck, finding no clues, although
they found its records in order. And
on the following morning the missing
New York insurance salesman showed

;
5

Tatoo tir par:

suedenty decided I just had to kill her.”

“Why did you decide that?” asked Gag-
liardi.

“She had become a nuisance to me,”
said Fckwerth. “That happens with a lot
of women.”

He said he dragged the unconscious girl
some 50 feet into a heavily wooded area.
He picked up a large rock and battered
her on the head until she was dead. He
then opened her nurse and took out $26 in
cash. He threw the purse into the woods.
He went home that night, firmly believing
that no one ever could connect him with
the missing girl.

This bellef weakened at 5:30 In the
morning when Anthony Spezzo called at
his home to ack for information regarding
Rosemary When the girl’s father had
left, Fcekwerth began to worry. From
what Spezzo had told him, it was obvious
that at least two people had seen him in
Rosemary's company. He then decided
to get out of town.

_ He still had the money he had taken
from the dead girl’s purse, plus $268 be-
longing to the coffee company and a small
sum of his own. On the way to the rail-

_ road station, he cashed the worthless check

for $20, on the theory that it is impos-
sible to have too much money.

Eckwerth was taken out to a police car
and driven to the spot where he said he
had left the body. There were a dozen
cars in the cavalcade, One had stopped
to pick up the medical examiner, Dr.
Victoria Bradess. Westchester County
Sheriff John E. Hoy was summoned, as
was Captain William Halstead of the
Greenburgh police department.

Eckwerth led the officers through a
clump of bushes surrounding a tree trunk.
At the foot of the tree lay the body of
Rosemary Spezzo. It was badly decom-
posed and Dr. Bradess declined to offer
an opinion as to the cause of death until
an autonsv had been performed.

Gagliardi noted however that, even to
a layman, it was evident that the girl’s
skull had been fractured in two places,
once along the base and again by the
right ear. The bodv was taken to Grass-
lands Hospital in Valhalla,

A search of the = srrounding area
brought to light a blondstained boulder.
A short time later a black handbag was
found about 100 feet from the tree where
the body had lain. It contained a driver's
license and some insurance papers with
Rocemary Spez7o's name on them. It con-
tained no money, nor did it contain the
$300 check her family said she had taken
to deposit in the bank. Fekwerth denied
all knowledge of the check.

Anthony Spezzo identified the handbag
and the dress found on the body as be-
longing to his daughter. He also said that
she had carried a diamond ring in her
purse It had not been found there. Eck-
werth denied that he had taken the ring.

Grief descended on the Spe7zo home in
Yonkers. “She’s dead! She’s dead!” sobbed
Mrs. Spezzo, her eyes red.with weening.
“I told them she was, but they wouldn’t
believe me.”

Anthony Spezzo said that Fcekwerth had
talked to Rosemary a couple of times
when he came to the house to deliver
coffee. “But she didn't like him,” he said.
“She never, never went out with him. If
I had known what a criminal he was,
he never would have come into my
house.”

On the Sunday before she disappeared,
Spezzo recalled, he had taken Rosemary
to a Fathers’ Day Communion breakfast.
“So she was in a state of grace when she
died.” Spezzo went on to say that he
always had hoped that his daughter would

return, but that his wife never expected |

to see her again alive.

“She had a statue of the Infant of
Prague. She would never have left it
behind,” said Mrs. Spezzo.

In order positively to identify the girl,
her dentist, Dr. Peter L. Polidoro, of Mc-
Lean Avenue, was summoned to Grass-
lands Hospital. He arrived, bringing his
dental charts with him. After a careful
examination of the victim’s teeth he posi-
tively identified the body as that of
Rosemary Spezzo.

In the meantime, Greenburgh Detective
Norman Halse and Patrolman James Dia-
mond found Rosemary’s class ring lying
on the ground some 50 feet from the point
where the body had been found.

In accordance with their promise to
Eckwerth, the state police, responding
to a request of Gagliardi’s, brought Mrs.
Carol Eckwerth and her father, George
Caul, to Yonkers police headquarters.

Mrs. Eckwerth stated that she came vol-
untarily. But when her handcuffed hus-
band was brought before her, she said, “I
wash my hands of him. I want nothing
more to do with him.” She added that
she felt very sorry for him, but had no
desire to talk with him.

“But I want to see my daughter,” Eck-
werth pleaded. “I want to see Susan.”

Mrs. Eckwerth flatly refused’ this re-
quest. She declined to bring the infant
to the jail.

The autopsy revealed that Rosemary
Spezzo had died of a fractured skull. It
also indicated that she had. fought des-
perately before she died. This bore out
the Spezzo family’s theory that Eckwerth
had lied when he spoke of being intimate
with the girl.

“I feel proud of her,” said Mrs. Spezzo.
“She's dead now and can’t defend herself.
She’ fought him and was killed. She had
met him only twice.”

The police were inclined to agree with
the grief-stricken mother.’ They set out

-to amass evidence to counter Eckwerth’s
claim of intimacy, which could be the
basis for a crime-of-passion defense to
save him from the electric chair.

When Eckwerth was taken before the
grand jury on August 28, Captain Halstead
of Greenburgh asked Eckwerth to make
corrections of any lies he might have
told previously.

“why should I lie now?” asked Eck-
werth, “It’s all over. I'm through lying.
I’ve got to live with my conscience. It’s
first-degree murder and Ill go to the
chair.” .

Gagliardi presented his witnesses and
read Eckwerth’s confession to the jury.
On August 31st, after a three-day session,
Edward F. Eckwerth was indicted on a
first-degree murder charge. He was sent
to the Westchester County jail at East-
view, where he was held without bail
pending his arraignment.

Informed of the indictment, his young
wife said, “I just want to forget it. All I
want to do now is to care for my little
girl and hope that she never finds out
what kind of a father she had.”

The chances that Edward Eckwerth will
escape the ultimate punishment are slight.
This is his tenth arrest and it will, in
all probability, be his last. It is useless
now for him to write to his family in
Mount Vernon for either help or money.
Neither will be forthcoming. Even if they
were, they would do Eckwerth little good.

After the indictment, Mrs. Spezzo com-
plained that the police were treating Eck-
werth “with kid gloves.” This isn’t quite
accurate, although they have treated him
with all due regard for his legal rights,
and those rights will be duly observed
until the day Edward Eckwerth formally
meets the jury’s verdict and perhaps the
state executioner. oo¢

$1,000.00

... if you help police find the fugitiv
criminal named and described on

TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTER

every Monday evening

MUTUAL Radio Stations

1,000.00 REWARD

... is offered for information leadi
to the arrest of any one of the
criminals. Hear details about 1
$1,000.00 reward on .. -

TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTEI

Every Monday Evening on MUTUAL S

“I'll Show You
Where the Body
Lies”

(Continued from page 11)

“I gave her a lift downtown that day in
June,” he said. “And that’s the last time
I saw her.”

“Why did you leave Yonkers the next
day?” asked Langley.

“I was fed up and felt I needed a trip.
Besides, I was scared. I’m a_ two-time
loser and when I heard that girl was
missing I was afraid they’d pin it on me,
so I got out of town.” Eckwerth went on
to say that he had taken a train to New
York, then a bus to Chicago. In Chicago,
he had taken another bus to Seattle.

“And Rosemary Spezzo did not go along
with you?” asked Langley.

“No,” said Eckwerth. “And I can prove
it. Because somebody else was with me
during most of the trip.”

Eckwerth claimed that as he was travel-
ing west he became friendly with a 28-
year-old schoolteacher from Minnesota.
The girl was on her way to attend a con-
vention of the National Education Asso-
clation which was held in Portland dur-
ing the first week in July.

Eckwerth maintained that he had
stayed with the girl in various motels in

‘Spokane, Portland, and other towns. Then

he had left her and gone to Seattle. “And,
by the way,” he said, “I was robbed of
$200 in Seattle. I wish you’d let the Wash-
ington authorities know about that.”
Eckwerth gave Langley the young
schoolteacher’s name and her Minnesota

address. “I want you to check that story,”
he said. “It may help clear me from be-
ing mixed up in the Spezzo girl’s disap-
pearance,”

“Don't worry,” said Langley. “We'll
check it.” ‘

Langley did so. He communicated with
the girl’s mother in Minnesota and then
with the girl, who was attending a teach-
ers’ workshop in another state. Reluc-
tantly she confirmed Eckwerth’s story.
Langley then got in touch with District
Attorney Gagliardi in Westchester and
told him of the developments in the case.

“I’m still not satisfied,” said Gagliardi.
“I'd like to talk to him about the Spezzo
girl. Will you drop the auto theft charges
and let us have him on the larceny war-
rant? It’s his third offense here and we
can give him a stiff sentence on that
charge.”

After discussing. the matter with Port-
land’s Police Chief Jim Purcell Jr., Lang-
ley agreed to do so. ‘

On Tuesday morning, Assistant District
Attorney Morton Edmiston arrived from
Westchester. He was accompanied by De-
tective Albert Hoffarth and a court stenog-
rapher, Thomas Mahan, They’ were
present when Eckwerth was taken before
Circuit Judge Paul R. Harris. Eckwerth
waived the extradition proceedings and
Judge Harris dismissed the auto theft
charge and ordered him surrendered to
New York authorities.

The officers and their prisoner boarded
a plane Tuesday night, arriving in West-
chester at 10:45 the same night. District
Attorney Gagliardi, Edmiston, Acting Pub-
lic Safety Commissioner James E. Mc-
Cue, Captain Dominico, Sergeant Chris-
topher and Detective Hoffarth interrogated
Eckwerth until 2 o’clock in the morning.
The prisoner seemed calm and at ease. He

.

told them exactly the same story he had
told Langley in Portland.

On August 24th, Eckwerth was taken
before City Judge Fiorillo in special ses-
sions court. Eckwerth waived examina-
tion on the felony charge of second-de-
gree larceny, made by the coffee company.
He was held for the grandejury.

He pleaded guilty to the $20 fraudulent
check charge, and the judge set Auguat
S3ist as the date for sentencing. At the
request of Sergeant Christopher and Pa-
trolman Jerome McGillicuddy, legal aid
to the police department, Eckwerth was
remanded to the Yonkers jail rather than
to the county prison. This was in order
that the questioning in regard to Rose-
mary Spezzo might be resumed.

On Saturday, Detective Sergeant Chris-
topher and Detective Hoffarth took Eck-
werth to New York to check on his state-
ments and to retrace the steps he said he
had taken before boarding the bus to
Chicago. They questioned him steadily.
By the time they returned to Yonkers at
1 p.m. they had noticed several minor dis-
crepancies in his story.

Confronted with these, which mainly
concerned’ _ time elements, Eckwerth
frowned, shook his head and said, “I want
to see my wife and daughter.”

“They’re upstate with your in-laws,” said
Christopher. “I'll get in touch with your
wife, but I don’t know if she wants to
see you.”

“If you'll let me see my wife and daugh-
ter,” said Eckwerth, “I'll show you where
the body lies.” .

There was a moment's tense silence.
Then Sergeant Christopher said auickly,
“You mean Rosemary Spezzo’s body?”

“Yes,” said Eckwerth. “But I want to
see my wife and daughter. If you'll let
me do that, I'll talk.”

“I'll send for them immediately.” Chris-
topher promised. “But it will take them
a few hours to get here. You may as
well start talking now.”

When word was sent out that a confes-
sion was imminent, city and county offi-
cials converged upon the Yonkers jail.
These were District Attorney Gagliardi,
Devuty Public Safety Commissioner Mc-
Cue, Captain Dominico, Captain James
Hollis and Detectives Andrew Horree and
Robert Maitre, together with stenograph-
ers from the district attorney's office and
Yonkers city court.

According to Eckwerth, he had been
intimate with Rosemary Spezzo on several
occasions. This statement the police re-
garded with skepticism. Eckwerth, how-
ever, insisted that it was true. He went
on to say that during the afternoon of
June 22nd they had driven around Yon-
kers for some time. Then, at about 6:30
P.M., he had parked at a spot some 75 feet
off a private road leading to Saint Claire's
Academy, a Catholic girls’ school. This
was about a quarter of a mile south of
Jackson Avenue in the town of Green-
burgh,

“We planned a necking party,” said Eck-

werth. “I had a blue flowered quilt and
a plastic cover in my panel truck. They
were premiums I used to boost my coffee
sales. I put them down on the ground
and we sat down.” '

For a while, Eckwerth contended, things
ad been most pleasant. Then an argu-
ment began. Rosemary Spezzo announced
that she did not like these clandestine
meetings. She asked that Eckwerth aban-
don his wife and daughter and marry her.

This, according to Eckwerth, he indig-

nantly refused. Their argument became
hotter and eventually Eckwerth lost his
temper. He began to punch the girl. When
he stopped, Rosemary Spezzo lay uncon-
scious on the quilt. '

“It was then,” Eckwerth said, “that I

sucdenty decided I just had to kill her.”

“Why did you decide that?” asked Gag-
liardi.

“She had become a nuisance to me,”
said Fckwerth. “That happens with a lot
of women.”

He said he dragged the unconscious girl
some 50 feet into a heavily wooded area.
He picked up a large rock and battered
her on the head until she waa dead. He
then opened her purse and took out $26 in
cash, He threw the purse into the woods.
He went home that night, firmly believing
that no one ever could connect him with
the missing girl.

This belief weakened at 5:30 in the
morning when Anthony Spezzo called at
his home to ask for information regarding
Rosemary. When the girl’s father had
left, Fcekwerth began to worry. From
what Spezzo had told him, it was obvious
that at least two people had seen him in
Rosemary’s company. He then decided
to get out of town.

He still had the money he had taken
from the dead girl’s purse, plus $268 be-
longing to the coffee company and a small
sum of his own. On the way to the rail-

_ road station, he cashed the worthless check

for $20, on the theory that it is impos-
sible to have too much money.

Eckwerth was taken out to a police car
and driven to the spot where he said he
had left the body. There were a dozen
cars in the cavalcade. One had _ stopped
to pick uv the medical examiner, Dr.
Victoria Bradess, Westchester County
Sheriff John E, Hoy was summoned, as
was Captain William Halstead of the
Greenburgh police department.

Eckwerth led the officers through a
clump of bushes surrounding a tree trunk.
At the foot of the tree lay the body of
Rosemary Spezzo. It was badly decom-
posed and Dr. Bradess declined to offer
an opinion as to the cause of death until
an aitonosy had been performed,

Gagliiardi noted however that, even to
a layman, it was evident that the girl's
skull had been fractured in two places,
once along the base and again by the
right ear. The bodv was taken to Grass-
lands Hospital in Valhalla.

A search of the svrrounding area
brought to light a blondstained boulder.
A short time later a black handbag was
found about 100 feet from the tree where
the body had lain. It contained a driver's
license and some insurance papers with
Roremary Spez7o's name on them. It con-
tained no money, nor did it contain the
$300 check her family said she had taken
to deposit in the bank. Fekwerth denied
all knowledge of the check.

Anthony Spezzo identified the handbag
and the dress found on the body as be-
longing to his daughter. He also said that
she had carried a diamond ring in her
purse. It had not been found there. Eck-
werth denied that he had taken the ring.

Grief descended on the Spe7zo home in
Yonkers. “She's dead! She’s dead!” sobbed
Mrs. Spezzo, her eyes red.with weening.
“I told them she was, but they wouldn't
believe me.”

Anthony Spezzo said that Fckwerth had
talked to Rosemary a couple of times
when he came to the house to deliver
coffee. “But she didn’t like him,” he said.
“She never, never went out with him. If
I had known what a criminal he was,
he never would have come into my
house.”

On the Sunday before she disappeared,
Spezzo recalled, he had taken Rosemary
to a Fathers’ Day Communion breakfast.
“So she was in a state of grace when she
died.” Spezzo went on to say that he
always had hoped that his daughter would
return, but that his wife never expected
to see her again alive.

ePeae’

“She had a statue

Prague. She would
behind,” said Mrs. Sr
In order positively
her dentist, Dr. Peter
Lean Avenue, was 5
lands Hospital. He @
dental charts with h
examination of the vi
tively identified the
Rosemary Spezzo.

In the meantime, G
Norman Halse and P:
mond found Rosemar
on the ground some 5!
where the body had

In accordance wit
Eckwerth, the state
to a request of Gag)
Carol Eckwerth and
Caul, to Yonkers po

Mrs. Eckwerth stat:
untarily. But when
band was brought be
wash my hands of |!
more to do with hi
she felt very sorry
desire to talk with h

“But I want to se
werth pleaded. “I \

Mrs. Eckwerth fle
quest. She declined
to the jail.

The autopsy rev:
Spezzo had died of
also indicated that
perately before she
the Spezzo family’s
had Hed when he sp
with the girl

“J feel proud of h
“She's dead now an
She’ fought him and
met him only twice

The police were »
the grief-stricken r
to amass evidence
claim of intimacy,
basis for a crime-
save him from the

When Eckwerth
grand jury on Augu
of Greenburgh ask:
corrections of any
told previously.

“Why should I !
werth, “It's all ov:
I've got to live wit
first-degree murde:
chair.”

Gagliardi presen’
read Eckwerth’s c
On August 31st, aft
Edward F. Eckwe!
first-degree murder
to the Westchester
view, where he \
pending his arraigr

Informed of the
wife said, “I just v

want to do now I:
girl and hope tha
what kind of a fat!

The chances that
escape the ultimat«
This is his tenth
all probability, be
now for him to
Mount Vernon for
Neither will be for
were, they would «

After the indict:
plained that the p
werth “with kid g
accurate, although
with all due rega
and those rights
until the day Edu
meets the jury’s \
state executioner.


20 MUCH

section of
tered a wave
* On Janu-
kold, 29, and
ttempted to
aw loitering
home. The
infire which
tunately not

‘ntified the
. an ex-con-
\lso involved
t was an 18-
1, Sieglinde
buying the
nch and Post
and identi-
isniewski as
was arrested

n May 30th,
sentenced
rman, to 15
de Klaprott
um as an
Joseph

SPRRow EE

seer eE Re ee hare ReRERE RT

Lynch was sentenced to 12 to 13 years
for his part in the wounding of the two
officers. Another youth, who confessed
supplying Lynch with a gun, was given
a suspended sentence.

THE MORTICIAN AND THE
MONEY-HUNGRY BLONDE

(TD January, 1959)

The body of Virgil Glen Gray, 49, a
Lawrenceville, Georgia, mortician, was
found on October 6th, 1958, in the Ozark
Mountains near Van Buren, Arkansas.
He had been pistol-whipped and shot to
death and had been dead about two days.
His car was missing.

On October 9th two Oklahoma officers
recognized the car on the outskirts of
Bethany, Oklahoma, and arrested the
man and woman riding init. They were
William Hoyt Ledford, 43, a parolee, and
Mrs. Loraine Stanga, 28. The car was
deeply bloodstained. Eventually the
woman confessed that she had been out
with Gray the night of October 2nd.
When he brought her home, Ledford was
there. He beat Gray with his pistol,
put him in the trunk of Gray’s car, and
they set out to dispose of the body. But
Gray was not dead. It took more beat-
ing and two shots to kill him. The
woman claimed she went along under
threat of death, but Ledford insisted,
“She gave me the gun and held him
while I shot him.”

In Cedartown, Georgia, on May 7th,
1959, a Polk County jury found William
Hoyt Ledford guilty of murder, with
no recommendation for mercy, thus
making the death sentence mandatory.
Mrs. Stanga, indicted with Ledford for
murder, remains in jail, awaiting trial.

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHERE
THE BODY LIES"

(TD December, 1956)

Rosemary Spezzo, 24, was a_ third-
grade teacher in a Bronx, New York,
parochial school. A _ tiny, attractive
brunette, she lived with her parents
in Yonkers, New York. On June 22nd,
1956, en route to her bank to deposit
a check for $300, she vanished. An
acquaintance said he saw her get into
a truck driven by Edward Eckwerth, a
coffee salesman.

Eckwerth, 31, who had a record of
nine arrests for grand larceny, rob-
bery, assault and auto theft, was lo-
cated on August 18th in Oregon’s Mult-
nomah County jail, charged with auto
theft. Returned to New York, he was
questioned about the missing girl. After
confessing that he had beaten Rosemary
to death with a rock, he took officers to
a clump of bushes in the grounds of a
girls’ school, where he had hidden the
body. On February 5th, 1957, Eckwerth
was found guilty of first-degree murder
and sentenced to die the week of March
24th.

Legal appeals staved off his execution
for nearly three years. But on May
22nd, 1959, he went to his death in the
electric chair at Sing Sing. During the
27 months he spent in the Death House,
Edward Eckwerth was a forgotten man.
Except for his lawyer, he never had a
single visitor.

LONELY HEARTS AND THE
BODY IN THE BEDROOM

(TD December, 1958)

Neighbors of Mrs. Juanita Rutledge,
60, in Minerva, Ohio, had not seen her
since August 25th, 1958. On September
2nd they observed furniture being re-
moved from the house and decided to
investigate. In the otherwise empty
house they found the body of Mrs. Rut-
ledge, her hands and feet bound, lying
on her bed. A man’s necktie was tightly
knotted about her throat. Her son, who
at intervals lived with his mother, could
not be found.

The son, James D. Rutledge, 32, was
picked up in a Skid Row hotel in Chica-
go on September 8th. After telling var-
ious stories, he finally confessed that he
had struck and strangled his mother,
following an argument about his pros-
pective marriage to a woman who lived
in Hiram, Ohio.

Pleading innocent to a charge of mur-
der, he went to trial in Canton, Ohio,
common pleas court on February 9th,
1959. On February 15th three judges,
Presiding Judge Paul G. Weber and
Judges John Rossetti and George N.
Graham, after deliberating for 75 min-
utes, found Rutledge guilty of second-
degree murder. Judge Weber = said,
“This is one of the most dastardly acts
that could happen.” He immediately
sentenced Rutledge to life imprison-
ment, “until you are either pardoned or
otherwise released.” The 6-foot-3, 230-
pound defendant will be eligible for
parole in 10 years.

Some of the residents of Minerva feel
sorry for James Rutledge. Others feel
that the sentence is ‘‘a great miscarriage
of justice.”

TWO-GUN KID KILLER

(ITD July, 1958)

Arrested in Kingsville, Texas, Sep-
tember 23rd, 1958, for speeding through
a restricted zone, Kenneth Nicely, 20, of
London, Kentucky, was identified as the
fugitive sought for the slaying of a
London used-car salesman, Tony Brown,
46, on September 20th, and of City
Officer Edward Virden, 36, in Prescott,
Arkansas, on September 21st. When the
Kingsville officer stopped him, Nicely
drew a gun and attempted to shoot him,
but a bullet from the officer’s gun
wounded him in the neck and he sur-
rendered.

Nicely, who had neither worked nor
gone to school since he was 16, and had
a record as a car thief, was on parole
at the time of the slayings. Flown back
to Prescott, he was held on murder
charges. Tried first for the murder of
Officer Virden, he was given a life
sentence. The charge for the fatal shoot-
ing of auto dealer Tony Brown still
stands against him.

TORTURE IN THE
BRIDE'S BEDROOM

(TD April, 1959)

Janice Porter, 24, and her husband
Myron, 26, a dental student at Ohio
State University, lived with his parents
in their attractive home on the outskirts

Lhitussabeatis dani cs yearn NA aA i a ee MA ih A: NNN NRRL HERONS me OH

Janice Porter

of Columbus. Their nearest neighbors
were Mrs. Smith, a Dublin, Ohio, high
school teacher and her 20-year-old son
David.

On December 16th, 1958, the body of
the pregnant bride was discovered on
her bed, slain by a .22 caliber bullet.
Detectives followed footprints in the
snow which led them from the Porter
home to that of the Smiths. David con-
fessed the crime and showed them where
he had hidden the gun.

In common pleas court on May 19th
a jury of 8 men and 4 women found
David Smith guilty of premeditated
murder and recommended mercy, thus
making a life sentence mandatory. Psy-
chiatrists who had examined the youth
had pronounced him sane.

DEATH BOWLS A STRIKE

(TD January, 1959)

On April 9th, 1959, James Michael
Murphy, 23, stood in a Seattle, Washing-
ton, courtroom to hear the verdict of
the jury of nine men and three women.
His trial began on April 6th, before Su-
perior Judge Henry Clay Agnew. The
charge was first-degree murder, in the
slaying on October Ist, 1958, of Robert
J. Blair, manager of a West Seattle
bowling alley. On that night Murphy
was the last to leave the alley at closing
time. When the front door was locked,
he went to a rear door he knew would
be unlocked, crept in and struck Blair
down with a baseball bat as he stood at
his desk. Then he shot his victim to
death. He then stole $2500 from the
cash register and fled.

He confessed the crime when he was
arrested on October 5th. In a bag in his
car was $1430 in small bills. He wanted
the money, he said, for a down payment
on a house. He did not mean to kill
Blair. He knew the layout and had
planned the crime for two days.

The case went to the jury at 10:42
A.M. on October 9th. At 2:34 p.m. they
brought in. their verdict—guilty of
first-degree murder. The verdict made
the death penalty mandatory.

TOM ee


ECKWERTH, Edward, wh, elec. NY (Westchester) May 22, 1959

,

amaid anda mo

The beauty of the murdered girl's life stands as a shining defense against the

Pp... and pretty 24-year-old Rosemary Spezzo stepped
out blithely, like a girl with no cloud in her future. She left
her parents’ home in Yonkers, New York, shortly after 1
o’clock on the afternoon of Friday, June 22, 1956, and stepped
into a mire of terror and death!

Only five feet one, with lustrous dark hair and large beau-
tiful eyes, Rosemary was unmarried, devoting all of her
interest to her vocation; she was a third-grade teacher at
St. Helena’s Parochial School at 2050 Benedict Avenue in the
Parkchester section of the Bronx, just north of Man-
hattan.

She had $300 in cash in her purse when she left. her
parents’ home and walked into the business section of the
bustling city of 100,000 to deposit the money in a savings
account at a local bank. Walking along Yonkers Avenue near

Crescent Place, Rosemary made one trivial decision that
was to have momentous consequences. She turned aside and
went into a drugstore to buy a package of chewing gum.
And there, just finishing his lunch at the counter, was a
handsome male. .

“Hi!” said the hunk of he-maf, a pleased inflection in his
voice.

Rosemary acknowledged his greeting with a quiet “Hello”

_and a smile, for she knew him. Or so she thought.

He was Edward F. Eckwerth, 29, a perfect Romeo type—
slick black hair, a thin trace of mustache and hooded, dreamy
eyes shadowed under prominent brows. Eckwerth was a
coffee salesman, and Rosemary knew him because he had
peddled his wares at her parents’ home a couple of times
while she was there. (Continued on page 41]

Carol Eckwerth: “I’ll never go back Holding tattered remnants of slain schoolteacher’s purse is Detective L.
to my husband. I’m afraid of him.” Dawson, center. Patrolmen T. Mercatante, left, and R. Ercoli take notes.

TRUE POLICE CASES,

December, 1956

accusation of her

BY LOUIS ADAM

Sweet and i
right, stepp:
and death w
Juan of cx
DA J. Gag!
rock used i


WW.

STUDY AT HOME

We guide you step by step—furnish all
text material, including 14-volume Law
Library. Training prepared by leading
law professors and given by members of
the bar.. Degree of LL.B. Low cost,
easy terms, Send for valuable Free Book,
“Law Training for Leadership,” today.
LaSalle Extension University, Dept.L795

A Correspondence institution Chicago 5,11

Regular Price of a Slide Rule
*

SLIDE RULE 92' 2:

you can use a pencil, you can use THIS
new simplified easy-to-understand Slide
Rule! For bookkeepers, accountants, sales-
men (figuring commissions, costs, etc.),
farmers, housewives, etc. For Armed Forces
highly important. Men’s most useful tool.
Easy to calculate instantly, perfectly. .Mul-
tiplying, proportions, divisions, roots, etc.
“High Vision” Clear View Slide. Full 10”.
Rule. A, B, C, D, Cl and K scales. Limit
TWO Rules per customer. MONEY-BACK
GUARANTEE. Make BIG money; be our

agent. Details FREE with order.
28-page instruction book on how
F REE to get correct answers instantly,
perfectly without pencil or paper.

SLIDE RULE CO.

Dept.308,, 114 E. 32nd St., N. Y. 16, N. Y.

BEDSIDE FUN

Here’s entertainment for open minds and
ticklish spines, Here’s lusty, merry recrea-
tion for unsqueamish men and women.
Here’s life with apologies to none. Col-
lected, selected from the best there is, this
zestful Primer is an eye-opener for the in-
experienced; wisdom for designing; merri-
ment for all. You’ll find it a blueprint for
uninhibited living, an ideal bedside
companion.

TEN DAY TRIAL OFFER!

PLAZA BOOK CO. nett: P978
109 Broad St., New York 4, N. Y.

Send THE PLEASURE PRIMER
in plain wrapper on Money-Back Offer. If
not delighted, | may return in 10 days and
price will we refunded.

| enclose 98c. Send prepaid, ¥
Send COD. I'll pay postman 98¢ plus postage.
BAD Frees cathe tava hed gle séhis ves) oo tire andes

IY cscie tiie odes chen Zone... .State........
Canada & Foreign—$1.25 with order

| she began to fear that there was no
hope left. ;

The next morning, a full-scale in-
vestigation got under way, but for
days, nothing came of it. Then, some-
one remembered seeing Eddie Eck-
werth and Rosemary together at the
luncheonette, and when police went
to check on Eddie, they found that
Mrs. Eckwerth hadn’t seen her hus-
band for a couple of days. He’d been
home the night of June 22nd, she
said, but he’d been missing since the
23rd.

“Do you suppose he could have run
off with the Spezzo girl?” a policeman
asked her.

“I doubt if he even knew her,” she
said loyally. But lately, she had begun
to have doubts about \Eddie, having
heard gossip about his carryings-on.
Secret misgivings had begun to mount
within her.

No trace was found of the girl, and
as the’ police questioned Eddie’s
cronies, they learned that the sales-
man had mentioned Rosemary often
aS a girl he really went for. Eddie’s
jubilant behavior, and Rosemary’s
laughing departure in the truck were
recalled by those who’d seen them in
the luncheonette. Police figured that
the two had run away together, and
an APB was:sent out over the country
to be on the lookout for them.

INCE both Rosemary and Eddie
were of age, there wouldn’t have
been much they could hold Eddie on
if his employers hadn’t charged him
with grand larceny for taking the de-
livery truck and absconding with more
than $200 worth of receipts. The
truck was found abandoned in New
York, and there the trail was lost.
The police were looking for a
couple traveling together—a diminu-
tive dark girl with bangs and a long
bob, and a wiry, handsome man of
about thirty. But there was no couple
answering that description, because
Eckwerth was traveling alone. Rose-
mary, for reasons only he knew at the
time, was not with him.
Eddie took a bus to Chicago, spent

mills and cutting up with prostitutes,
and the next day went on to Seattle.
He. was beginning to run short of
funds by now. He wrote to one of his
relatives in Westchester, saying that
things were ‘tough, but that he was
fine. A couple of days later, he stole
a-car and got out of town fast, going
south to Portland, Oregon, to see if
he could find some work. But the cops
spotted the stolen car, and Eddie was
arrested and thrown in the clink. He
was only too happy to start serving a
sentence for theft, just as long as it
kept him out of. the public eye and
the pursuit of the police back home.
The’ letter Eckwerth had written
from Seattle was his undoing, how-
ever, because the word got out that
he was in Seattle. Yonkers police con-
tacted West Coast law-enforcement
agencies late in August, giving a full

description of Eckwerth, and it sud-
“3 { Re Ny " |

the night whirling around the gin-.

denly occurred to an alert officer in
Portland that they had the wanted
man right there under lock and key.

DDIE was right chipper when de-

tectives came from Yonkers to
bring hirn back for questioning. It
was obvious to him that they didn’t
know a thing; all they had was suspi-
cion. They had picked him up on the
grand larceny rap as a stated reason,
but he knew they were ‘interested in
finding out what had become of Rose-
mary. All the way across the country,
Eckwerth kept what he knew to him-
self.

But when he got back to Yonkers
and the questioning became a round-
the-clock operation, Eddie finally
broke and confessed. “I killed her,”
he said, “but I couldn’t help it.” He
took the police to a copse of trees a
hundred yards off Jackson Avenue,
outside the small town of Green-
burgh, which lies north of Yonkers.
After winding through thickets and
gulleys, Eckwerth and police officers—
together with District Attorney Joseph
Gagliardi and Dr. Victoria Bradess,
Westchester County Medical Exam-
iner—they came upon the decomposed
body of the missing girl. Her clothes
had been ripped before they rotted,
and near her head lay the ‘stained
stone with which Eddie had killed her.

The story he’ told was a typical one
any man with a Casanova complex
would tell. “I met her at the lunch-
eonette that day,” he said, “and then
we drove out into the country. We
found this secluded spot and began
to make love. Suddenly she stopped—
and then she said she’d found out I
was married. She wanted me to leave
my wife and run away with her. I
said I wouldn’t. She argued some
more, and then stopped. We were
intimate, and when it was over, she
suddenly jumped up and started to
run, saying she was going to tell my
wife. I caught up with her and threw
her on the ground, crazy mad, and be-
gan to beat her. That’s when I picked
up the stone and hit her with it and
killed her. I hid her body in the brush,
and then I went home to my wife and
kid. The next day I lammed out of
town.”

He had done murder, but now Eck-
werth was determined to blacken
Rosemary’s reputation in order to pro-
vide himself with a defense. He felt
real sorry for himself. He felt even
sorrier, when he went to trial in
January, 1957, on a first-degree mur-
der charge, as he repudiated his con-
fession and told of his childhood by
way of explaining his actions.

His eyes filled with tears as he told
the sad story of how his mother and
father had shown him no affection at
home. His mother, he said, entertained
men at home while his father was out
working. She was always drinking, he
told the court, and she used to take
his hand and burn it on the stove to
punish him for taking food out of the
ice-box. when he was desperately hun-

‘gry. He’d always been an unwanted

CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES

child, he went
his parents di
until he was |
Poor Eddi
bravely throug
for the effect
judge. If he |}
wouldn’t be «
he was disapp
the jury just
Uncertainly |
the jury went
hours later, th
least, Were no
“Guilty!” sa
sentence of dé
Eddie had 1
he’d tried hard
been trying for
ed; he was top
and a phoney.
most to be be
wasn’t having a
that Rosemary
because of the
a consummate
had become th
for the prose
murderer.

STRANG

oO!

WOMAN |!
(Continue

murder scene, }
gated to questi
noticed the rust
hands and trous
thought of the :
brown spots on
thought of the
investigator wou
berry privately
kid like Bobby,
good explanati

OBBY’S ex;

and it was
perhaps it was
bility. The peop
the road approa
house hadn’t se
bushy-haired mz
referred to. Nor
one else but Bob
day. One and on
two equal four. °
a sleuth to add
when the over-:
arrived at, peop

et Waeeernt ee hesenilihiiiaenian sail


a cai dae deh aamea

—— “d child, he went on self-pityingly, and
Wer his parents didn’t even get married
aaleati | until he was two years old.
7 | Poor Eddie - Eckwerth! Blinking
ren de- | bravely through his tears he watched A U T0 M A 7] C A | | y!
— | for the effect on the jury and the M
ling. It | ‘udge. If he had expected that there
g. 4 | judge. e ha pects N -0-
didn’t | judge tt be a dry eye in the house, SENSATIONAL BOB-O-MATIC CASTING FLOAT HOOKS
s suspi- he was disappointed. The judge -and YOUR FISH AUTOMATICALLY THE INSTANT HE BITES
on the the jury just looked at him stonily. :
reason, Uncertainly he sat down, and when sinoh thd) a eT eas a. it edgy now automatically {
“? in the jury went out, to reconvene a few is often secs Fann the beck. ot the gic vip dene genlig va ;
»f Rose- hours later, they showed that they, at caerpyetpees Jt for you automatically. The instant a fish bites—
: AMI the ie tri i ‘
country, least, were not uncertain. we Reset rma of hf 30. a
t - “ ¢ ” ‘ ond. 1 Tok i " ig-
to him Guilty! said the foreman, and the ger. Fish over and over until nex by ciaiahs nay pete, a! rie ia
— sentence of death was mandatory. , neon gfoeard Drage Order new end realty snioy fishing at its very oy
onkers Eddie. had tried hard. All his life ; Ne a
: Pe he’d tried hard. But what he'd always Beb.O-Mate envres you of coming home :
nay been trying for, he’d partially achiev- mriring ‘glances., You con fish off @ boot, us
ed her, ed; he was tops as a liar, and a cheat Daa. ac want ber pos “a
it.” He and a phoney. But when he needed Wehooks the fish andl keeps him hooked. 4)
ae most to be believed, the world just i
Avenue, wasn’t having any of it. The jury knew eelaagh agape is ye4
7 Green- that Rosemary was a good girl, if only floating rigs becouse the weight H
Yonkers. because of the negative statements of pire egg soe 0 Hat
kets and a consummate liar. Perversely, Eddie baited hook. Hs
officers— had become the best possible witness eu
ey Joseph for the prosecution of himself, the
Bradess, murderer.
il Exam-
composed ve
- clothes Money Back Guarantee fi
>y rotted, SPORTINGSTRAPPING Dept. MT-12 rf
c ‘stained \ \ , pag oP automatic fisher to me +
killed her. \\ J] of once on 10 day free trial offer ot $1.98 ut
ypical one A J 0 Send 6.0.0. 1 will poy postman on de: | mee
0 lex ~~ Y | livery plus a few cents postage. . i 4 A
7 comp Money Back Guarantee : | a) Hg neta ia Sportsman's os will i ;
ne lunch- Bob-O-Matic is guaranteed to catch fish automatically. | I ne. :
Nome i
‘and then If you're not 100% delighted, your money will be —= I. See aged SC ci Sar Pi i My
ane We cee a os = lies
in egan +
roubled with GETTING
stopped— Ps
eg LS uP NIGHTS, Pains in BACK,
e to leave '-).-4-e 8 HIPS, LEGS, Tiredness
ith her. I oo, rhe 40 Loss of Physical Vigor
ued some If you have these symptoms
We were STRANGE MURDER then your troubles may. be tAstional disease, HS
over, she OF THE Medicines that give temporary relief will Rot ;
started to remove e cause of your roubie, eglect 0: z
os WOM AN IN THE WoobpDs Tature old age ction ofted ies. incurable ‘
, s | mal ney. 4
cr and be- 3 mane pas for years men 107. OF 008
oT ‘y icked (Continued from page 39) , here at the Excelsior Institute. They have Sel
oh 2 Eee that baad beg ey Fi tor found soothing relief and new zest in life. C
with it am murder scene, Hockenberry was dele- Fill the spaces with, the Pes Ly institute, Jevorsider ao pe
the brush, : ‘113 ; eatment 0 ease UW ‘O Fy
gated to question Bobby Willis. He reaNON-SURGICAL methods has a NEW }
ry wife and noticed the rust stains on the boy’s total: $17). FREE BOOK that tells how, proven NON- iy
med out of hands and trousers, and Hockenberry pga Py SURGICAL treatments. This book may Ki
thought of the iron pipe. He saw red- Dept.F 62 Oa rove of utmost importance in your life. or
t now Eck- ; A 4 Write today. There is no obligation. ie
<a Black brown spots on the boy’s jeans, and Excelsior institute, Dept. 7834, Excelsior Springs, Me. Ry
0 blacken thought of the bloody corpse. Any JOBS ON SHIPS Re = ' a
jer to pro- investigator would have, but Hocken- MEN WANTED (16-65) || Vides ik
He felt berry privately felt that with a nice MEN, pat arn whiteyou |W HANDS TIED? A |

ie felt even
to. trial in

pilin Mate

kid like Bobby, there must be some
good explanation for them.

Catch More Fish...

Travel to foreign

GJ

degree muf- Write for FREE stration.” oS aega ¥ because you lack a

Theta & ; : t nformation. : -

ed his con- OBBY’S explanation was good, WORLD-WIDE SEAMEN’S SERVICE 4 7

hildhood by and it was straightforward, but 309 W. 42 St., New York 36, N.Y.. H IGH SCHOOL DI PLOMA
ns.

rs as he told
mother and
affection at
entertained
ther was out

perhaps it was too simple for credi-
bility. The people living up and down
the road approaching the Cummings
house hadn’t seen anything of the
bushy-haired man that the kid had
referred to. Nor had they seen any-

LOOSE FAL

RELINED AND TIGHTENED :
NEWLY IMPROVED DENDEX RELINER, a plastic,
builds up (refits) |
Really makes them

e You can qualify for an American
School Diploma in spare time at home!
If you have left school, write or mail
coupon for FREE booklet that tells
how. No obligation of any kind.
meow OUR 40TH YEAR -————

4

powder. Easily applie nt | AMERICAN SCHOOL Cept. HC75
1 plates while it sets. It adheres
. Stes on ae makes a comfortable, smooth | Drexel at 58th. Chicago 37, IMinois
‘and durable surface that can be washed and scrub- Please send FREE High School booklet.

drinking, he
used to take
the stove [to

one else but Bobby in the vicinity all
day. One and one equal two; two and
two equal four. You don’t have to be

» powder or wax.
ink color, Sold on MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE. No!

| out of the a sleuth to add up the obvious, and | by is years of Consumer Use. Sent Soo) fy 10¢ handling charge | | ADDRESS. ........eeeeee8 creer Paiecives iene
rately hun- when the over-simplified. total was Ramps or cain). DENDEX COMPANY, DEPT. 325-H

unwanted

arrived at, people began to look at
ECTIVE CASES 61


bs idekk

Sek. ai

ee

% ‘n' ‘
ee eee ee

Petite Rosemary Spezzo, pretty but weighing only ninety pounds,

was no match for the husky killer who took her. to a Lovers’ Lane

50

ADP ot er

MASTER DETECTIVE MAGAZINE, AUGUST, 1963,

MYSTERY
OF THE
BLUDGEONED
SCHOOLTEACHER

by CARL JENSEN

of stark tragedy often begins behind the mask
of the commonplace. There is no hint to the
unsuspecting victim, as he or she sets about the
routine, innocuous activities of everyday existence,
that the almighty hand which records the history
of man in the ledger of life will this day dip the
pen into ink of a different color for that final entry
which closes an individual’s account with the world.
When that fateful day came for Rosemary Spezzo,
it came without warning. She was twenty-four,
pretty and petite, barely tipping the scales at
ninety pounds. Though she suffered from diabetes,
she was not a complainer, and few outside the
circle of her family and friends knew it. She was
cheerful, quick to smile, and her innate sense of
humor was almost always evident in her luminous
brown eyes.
Rosemary’s last day among the living was Fri-

[: IS ONE of the ironies of life that the drama

‘eet 2. :° gee
‘0 ;

Yonkers, New York police found Rosemary’s body where her sex-crazy murderer said it would

day, June 22, 1956, although it would be a long
time, an agonizingly long time, before this fact
was known for certain to the loved ones she left

‘behind. They had no warning of impending tragedy,

either.

She was in the best of spirits when she arose
that morning in the house on Edgewood Avenue,
Yonkers, New York, where she lived with her
parents, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Spezzo. Rosemary
had just finished a year of teaching lively third-
graders in a parochial school in the nearby Bronx,
New York City. Yonkers is just north of the city
limits of New York. To keep herself busy, as well
as to earn some extra money, she had gotten a job
as night cashier in a drug store for the summer.
She was happy about that, and would begin work-
ing at the pharmacy that very evening, at six
o’clock.

During the morning and early afternoon she

oe at) Peet yt” SEEN og ee
ees re ie ae , fos s ss

;
t
;

*6G6T-z2-5 uo (Aqun0D 2048e404Se),) BUTS BuTg peqnooaqoete faqtym ‘paempg” *HITTNON


_ attended to a few things like ironing,
tidying up her room, and helping her
mother around the house. She was al-
most gay as she went about these
chores, humming along with the music
from the radio. She left the house
about half past two in the afternoon,
telling her mother she wanted to get
to the First National Bank before it
closed.

“I want to deposit my last school
check,” she explained. “It’s for $300,
and I don’t like keeping it around.”

Her mother watched her as she
started walking down the street. It
was the last time she ever saw her
daughter.

Other people saw Rosemary after
that, several, in fact. One of them was
her killer. But their stories did not
come until later. Her murderer’s story
came much later.

Rosemary did not return from her
errand that afternoon, but no one at
her home was disturbed by this. She
could have gone shopping, to a movie,
or spent the time with friends until
she had to report to work at six
o'clock.

The first hint that all was not as it
should be came at seven, when the
telephone rang in the Spezzo house.
The caller asked for Rosemary and
was told she was at work.

“At work?” he echoed. “At work
where?” When they named the drug-
store, he said, “No, she’s not.” He
identified himself as the proprietor of
that pharmacy and said the reason he
had called was because Rosemary
hadn’t shown up to begin her new job.
“Do you have any idea where she
might have gone?”

Rosemary’s parents had no idea. If
the girl was due to report some place,
she would be there. That's the kind
of a girl she was. If anything delayed
her unexpectedly, she would have
called. Her failure to appear at her
place of employment, or at least to call,
was completely unlike her.

Mr. and Mrs. Spezzo immediately be-
came worried, not only about Rose-
mary's strange action, but for another,
more important reason. Rosemary was
out of insulin. She had told her mother
she was going to stop at the family
drug store and buy some after she'd
been to the bank. She had to have that
insulin. And a quick call to the phar-
macy which had her prescription on
file established that she hadn't been
there that day.

The girl's parents spent the next few
hours checking and rechecking with
Rosemary’s friends by telephone. The
results of these calls merely added
to their concern. No one had seen
her. None had been called by her.
Some of these friends in turn called
people and places they thought she
might have gone. But when _ they
phoned back, their reports were nega-
tive.

Shortly after ten o'clock that night
Anthony Spezzo could stand the sus-

pense no longer. “I’m going out to look
for her,” he told his wife. “You stay
by the phone in case she calls.”

Worriedly, the girl’s father walked
through the streets of the neighbor-
hood, stopping acquaintances to ask
if they had seen Rosemary, ringing
doorbells to make inquiries. At length
he came to a luncheonette a few blocks
from his house where he knew she
sometimes stopped.

The proprietor, who had known the
family for many years, had news.

“Rosemary? I saw her this afternoon.
It was before three, I think. Some-
where around that time.”

He said he had chatted with her
briefly. Questioned more closely by the
girl’s father, he tried hard to recall
everything he could about Rosemary’s
visit to the luncheonette.

“She had a cup of coffee,” he said.

. “I remember that. I was sort of busy,

so I couldn't have more’n a few words
with her. But then she was talking to
somebody. Let me think. . . . Oh, I
know. It was that coffee salesman, fel-

low who peddles it house to house from
a truck. His name is Eckwerth. Does
very well around the neighborhood.
Rosemary was talking with him a
while. Matter of fact, now that I think
of it, they left about the same time,
but I didn’t notice them after they
went out.”

As the two men were talking, an-
other acquaintance dropped into the
luncheonette. He was a barber, whose
shop was a few doors away. When he
heard why Mr. Spezzo was there, he
said, “I know that fellow. I saw Rose-
mary getting into his truck with him—
a panel job—a little before three this
afternoon. It was parked in front of
my shop. They seemed to know each
other. I didn’t think anything of it.
Looked like he was giving her a lift.”

There were few other places Mr.
Spezzo could check that night, so he
went home and waited. He tried to
sleep, but it was impossible; his fearful
concern for the safety of his missing
daughter crowded out all thoughts of
rest. Over and over, hour after hour,

Edward Eckwerth, coffee salesman, told a story the police didn’t believe

-

he racked his brain for some key to the
mystery. His reasoning always ended
with her departure from the luncheon-
ette at the same time as the coffee
salesman.

Dawn was breaking as the dis-
traught parent made up his mind. Con-
sulting the telephone directory, he
found a Purser Place address for Eck-
werth, dressed, and went there. He
knew he had found the right place
when the sleepy young man in pa-
jamas answered the door. He recog-
nized him at once as the coffee sales-
man who had come to the house a
number of times.

As soon as Mr. Spezzo explained the
reason for his call at that early hour,
Eckwerth’'s grumpiness disappeared
and he was eager to help in any way
he could. He confirmed immediately
that he had seen Rosemary the pre-
vious afternoon.

“I met her in the coffee shop,” he
said, “and we gabbed a little. She said
she had to get to the bank, so I
offered her a ride downtown. I let her
out near the bank and that was the
last I saw of her.”

Thus, one more step in Rosemary’s
movements had been traced, but it was
not very helpful. Mr. Spezzo waited
until 10 a.m. And then he anxiously
reported everything he knew to the
Yonkers police.

The inquiry into the missing girl’s
whereabouts went into high gear rap-
idly—much more so than would have
happened in a normal missing persons
case. The reason, of course, was the

District Attorney Gagliardi confronted prime suspect with the dead girl’s purse

NJ

insulin factor—a vital necessity to a
diabetic.

A complete description of Rosemary
Spezzo was flashed at once over the
13-state. police network. In quick suc-
cession thereafter, two more steps were
taken. Officers contacted the First
National Bank and established that
the girl had not been there at any
time on Friday. Next, they ascertained
from the Spezzo family druggist that
she had not come in to refill her pre-
scription for insulin.

Detectives Albert Hoffarth and Rob-
ert Maitre retraced Mr. Spezzo’s steps
to confirm what he had learned of his
daughter’s movements. After talking to
the luncheonette proprietor and the
barber, they went to the Purser Place
home of Edward Eckwerth. The coffee
salesman was not home, but they
talked to his wife who was there with
her two-year-old daughter.

Mrs. Eckwerth said her husband had
left the house early that morning and
was probably at work on his coffee
route. The officers left word for the
salesman to contact them at head-
quarters when he returned.

But they waited in vain for Eck-
werth to call. He didn’t return home
that night, nor the two nights follow-
ing. Three days after the schoolteach-
er’s disappearance, the Yonkers police
received a complaint from Eckwerth’s
coffee company employers, and a war-
rant was issued for his arrest. The
complaint charged him with theft of
the company’s panel truck and two
days’ cash receipts, estimated to be

about $300 according to the company.

Detective Captain Joseph A. Domin-
ico was still studying this complaint on
Eckwerth and trying to assess its pos-
sible relation to the Spezzo girl’s dis-
appearance when he received another
report on a missing person, which im-
mediately appeared as if it too might
have some connection with the Spezzo
case.

A Yonkers woman told him her hus-
band, an insurance salesman who
worked in New York, had not been
home for three days, nor had she had
any word from him. She was fear-
fully afraid something terrible might
have befallen him.

As he jotted down the information,
the date of the insurance man’s dis-
appearance was what struck Captain
Dominico. It was precisely the same
day that Rosemary Spezzo had van-
ished. It was also the sort of coinci-
dence which immediately rings bells
in the mind of a veteran detective. The
captain promptly ordered a couple of
his men to look into the case of the
absent insurance man.

In the meantime, he himself ran a
check on the truant coffee salesman,
with provocative results.

Edward Eckwerth, the files showed,
had far more than a passing acquaint-
ance with police. He had been arrested
nine times on charges which included
auto theft, robbery, assault and grand
larceny. Somehow he had managed
to wriggle out of these charges without
doing time, but he was still on pro-
bation as a result of his last encounter
with the law.

On January 19, 1955, the record re-
vealed, Eckwerth had slugged and
robbed a crippled woman employee of
a motel in Orange County. He fled, but
a witness identified him for police, -
who studied his record and found that
he always contacted his family in
Mount Vernon, a city adjacent to
Yonkers, whenever he was in trouble.

They staked out the place and Eck-
werth ran true to form. Three months
later the vigil paid off and the fugi-
tive was nabbed on his parents’ door-
step. He was brought to trial and found
guilty of grand larceny in the first
degree, and assault in the second de-
gree. He drew a sentence of five to
eight years in prison, but the sentence
was suspended and he was placed on
indefinite probation.

A firm believer in the old Police
axiom that criminals seldom deviate
from their established patterns of be-
havior, Captain Dominico requested a
stakeout on the Mount Vernon home
again. He was about to put a watch on
Eckwerth’s Purser Place home, too, but
found that Mrs. Eckwerth had moved
out and taken her baby to live with
her own parents. When contacted there,
she told officers she was through with
her husband; he was always running
around with other women, getting into
trouble, and she had stood all she
could. (Continued on page 68)

53


leadquarters Lineup

u know about crime? The
d you are, the more valua-
ou are to your community.
wledge. Mark an X beside

now this man? At gunpoint
2-year-old Brooke L. Hart,
Jose, Calif., businessman,
-he young man’s car as he
a parking lot. The victim
opted, arms and legs bound
chest and back weighted
blocks, then dropped from
‘an Mateo Bay to drown.

é é x :

>t then phoned the victim’s
ding $40,000 ransom, but
erchant could comply, an
suggested a pair of prime
man and his partner were
o. On November 27, 1933,
the kidnap-killing, the vic-
1s recovered. This case hit
. the nation; for San Jose
more than they could bear.
10b relieved the sheriff of
ind hanged them in a pub-

f these periods experienced
umber of kidnapings in this

Perr

invariably in kidnaping in-
- is borne out that the kid-
it to be:

1eone with a criminal record.
amateur in crime.

age serves the most
0 | trapping Bruno
he i the Lindbergh

—p. ., s the most sensa-
case of all time?

v Yérk City detectives
e FBI
S. Treasury agents

By Larry Roberts

5. From the day the FBI entered. into
the Weinberger kidnap case on Long Is-
land this past summer, the emphasis was
on comparing signatures on official docu-
ments with the ransom note writing. This
cracked the case. What other kidnaping
which took two-and-a-half years to solve
did investigators realize too late could
also have been solved in a couple of
months the same way?

~ (9 (a) The Lindbergh case
(CO (b) The Urschel case (Oklahoma
City)
0 (c) The Bremer case (St. Paul)

6. Can a typewritten ransom note give
clues as to the particular machine on
which it is written, eliminating any other
typewriter of the same make as a possi-
bility? .

(0 (a) Yes. Typewriters do develop in-
dividual characteristics which—
to the trained document exam-
er’s eye—are as personal as

: handwriting. :

(i {b) No. A machine cannot turn out

a letter different from another

typed on a machine of the same —

year and model.

7. How much power do the police have
after the accused has been arrested and
locked up and the case put in the hands
of the prosecutor?

(0 (a) The police must now take a
back seat; the prosecutor is the
boss. He does what he wants

; with their evidence.

1 (b) The police are still in the driv-
er’sseat. The prosecutor prepares
his case under their direction.
Throughout the trial, it’s their
evidence being used so police
are the experts on that score.

8. Under the law a defendant cannot
be forced to take the stand against his
wishes. What does the jury feel toward
the defendant who refuses?

(J (a) The jury finds him guilty be-
cause it is obvious he’s afraid
‘to testify.

CO (b) Refusing the stand has little
effect one way or the other.

9. Do women, indicted and brought to
trial before a jury, have a better chance
of going free than men?

O (a) Yes
0 (b) No

10. In New York City, how many
arrests for major crimes do police make
in a month? L

O) (a) About 2000

0 (b) About 24,000

0 (c) About 240,000
(Answers on page 78)

|

a EQWARDS, Ernest Lee, white, electrocuted New. York (Kings Count) June 28,

The
Cleanup
Spot
Richard P. Connors, 25, whose testimony

sent his hot-headed buddy, Ernest Lee
Edwards, to the chair for the brutal blud-

geoning and drowning of Howard Englander -

(Don’t Put Me in With Him, October
FRONT PAGE, 1954) has refused to plead
guilty to a charge of first-degree man-
slaughter. Shortly after Connors and Ed:-
wards were picked up and arrested for a
mugging in New York City, Connors told
police that Edwards had struck a man fish-
ing from a Brooklyn jetty over the head.
and had shoved him into the water to
drown. The body of Howard Englander
was later recovered and both were charged
with first-degree murder. Connors wor the
right to a separate trial and testified against
Edwards who was convicted and subse-
quently died in the electric chair at Sing
Sing. For his cooperation, Connors was
offered the chance to plead guilty to first-

' degree manslaughter which, upon convic-

tion, would give him a maximum sentence of
from ten to 20 years imprisonment. His re-
fusal means that he will also be tried for
first-degree murder and is in jeopardy of
receiving the same sentence as Edwards—
death in the electric chair.

Robert May, 20, who lost his battle
against extradition to New Jersey to face a
murder conspiracy charge, pleaded guilty
in plotting the murder of his girlfriend’s
parents (Little Miss Muffed It, August
FRONT PAGE, 1956). May was accused along
with Joseph Lynch, 19, who had previously

FRONT PAGE DRTECTIVE MAGAZINE, DECEMBER, 1956, .

ts Sa a

ig?

Ws ease

ie! os

ae os

paste ib aap

2 te 5: NOMS iA DS Ae LR gM oo ir

tare ek COT

1956 fe

pleaded guilty, and
has pleaded innoce
lieu of $15,000 bail.
planned to kill M

then split the life
They allegedly con
carrying out the m
them and running
car. Miss Long al
money to buy a ca
cers stepped in bef
out. May also faces
on a charge of illeg
ous weapons.

Clay Tricky Rig
convicted and ser
double murders of
boyfriend (The W
Roped, July FRON7
granted a reprieve
Supreme court pen
was convicted of :
Williamson, 53, whc
on the night he k
drinking companior
59. Riggles has sai
from an epileptic
them. “I have the
causes me to bla
hours or days,”
“Friends of mine *
was having have tes
have done it for tl
known what I was
he suffered many hx
a trick rider in a
was thrown from 2
strange town three
after that becaust
everything always
have trouble with r
was in Evanston
pital) I would -ask
head and they woul
times it still hurts -
it,” said Riggles. f
wasn’t given prop
before the death
claim that has bee
authorities.

_ Kenneth Riley,
attempted robbery
ily which turned 1


46

Rt

Grieving fathe

dale, just beyond Levittown. At last he had enough saved.

The down payment had been made on the little house,
where Carol would have a lawn on which to romp and the
clean fresh air of the country to breathe instead of the
thickly-fumed pall that oppressed the city.

There was one queer thing about that dream: Although
Iris‘was crazy about the house, rapturous over its gleam-
ing electric kitchen, its big living-room wall of glass, she
couldn't rid herself of the feeling that she never would
live in it, even though moving day was only just one week
off.

Intent upon his fishing and lost in his own secret
thoughts, Howard Englander did not even see the two
youths who paused for several moments at the head of the
jetty and stared at him with curious interest.

They walked away through the deepening dusk after a
time. The dusk became full dark, and still Englander
fished. At 10:30 p.m., the two youths came back.

Still Howard Englander was wholly unaware of their

presence. He had no inkling of peril, even as Death stole
like a silent shadow out on the granite rock.
_ Although he never in his life heard of Howard Eng-
lander, 40-year-old Murray Lichtenstein had two things in
common with the aircraft plant mechanic. Lichtenstein
was a veteran, and he was a fisherman.

On Monday holiday, he, too, had gone fishing, and he
had come back late, very late, indeed. It was 3:40 on
Tuesday morning when he crossed West End Avenue in
Upper Manhattan and strode on in Ninety-ninth Street to-
ward Riverside Drive, where he lived.

A 1948 Plymouth sedan rolled slowly up the street be-
hind him, a slim, thin-faced young man at the wheel, a
husky, hard-jawed youth at his side. They spotted Lich-
tenstein and slowed down. :

“He looks like a cop to me,” said Ernest Lee Edwards
to the youth at the wheel.

“Might be,” conceded Richard Connors.

“Then he’d be packin’ a rod,” Edwards went on. “A

r-in-law and father (c.) with brother of Howard Englander who had identified his body at mortuary

salt e yh

rod is what we need for some jobs we got in mind, boy.
Ease up on him. I'll take him—and get the gat.”

The car nosed close on the heels of the walking man.
Edwards flung open the door and sprang from his seat, a
two-foot length of heavy lead pipe clutched in both hands
like a baseball bat.

Some inner sense warned Lichtenstein. As Edwards
swung his deadly cudgel, Lichtenstein hit the pavement.
The pipe struck him a glancing blow on the head, but it
did not knock him out.

“Help!” he yelled. “Police! Help! Police!”

The outcry frightened Edwards. He whirled and leaped
back into the car.

Cruising in their little green-and-white patrol car, just
around the corner, Patrolmen Charles Garri and Vincent
Beckles heard the shouts for help. Beckles gunned the
fast coupe into Ninety-ninth Street in time for both officers
to see the Plymouth pull away from the curb where Lich-
tenstein lay on the sidewalk.

The two cops followed the Plymouth up a slight rise and
down the slope to Riverside Drive, where it swung right.
The police car was close behind. Five blocks uptown,
Beckles nosed his cruiser across the front of the Plymouth
and forced it to the curb. Edwards and Connors made
no effort to resist arrest. y

“We ain’t done nothin’,” Edwards protested.

“How about the man back on the sidewalk?" Garri said.

“How about him?” Edwards answered. “We drive by.
We see the guy. We stop to help him. He lets out a yell.
So we scram. There ain’t no use in tryin’ to help a guy
who’s liable just to get you in trouble.”

Officer Beckles came backing out of the Plymouth, the
lead pipe bludgeon in his hand. Beneath the street lamp
at the corner, he could see a smear of fresh blood on its
end.

“A lot of help you’d be to anyone with this,” Beckles
said. “Stick out your hands, you two. You’re not going
to belt anybody else around. Not tonight. Maybe not for

Oe ey

a good lon
At the \
stein ident
nors and
upstairs, t
stitches cl
Detectiv
to work o
“We che
Inerny to
you.”
“Of cou
mine lent
“He len
table in
identificat
also took
Beside th:
name “Hc
Edward
at his pa
Wise ir
quick sta
was the t
the kid t
They s:
turned to
“You k
Connor
terday n
Satrian
bag of s
kid,” he
been wor
good lick
the guy !
Both d
denly pa
“Mayb
tell us a
we'd like
Conno:
given a ¢
“You’v
about th
night.
“Ernie
a week :
ninth St:
yesterda:
“We v
the car.
casy job
Drive.
“That’
the brea
with a !
go in an
“You
and Mcl
“He is t
A qui
had far
us they
other ju
occurren
mind. °
what it
They ©
Edwards
“TI thi:
said. ‘“!
stealing
There
take me


44

DEAT Fi -OR

‘\
.
N
\
~\
~\
‘opie
>
of
Bi

wan %

Suspect s!
pushed i:
Mcinerny


going

Suspect shows where slain fisherman’s body was
pushed into ocean, Detectives Satriano (I.) and
Mcinerny walt as officers In boat find evidence

hah
Shay

PRS Re i, ual
ee aE aa Hye

<5 Ft by CARLOS LANE

to kill that guy Virginia style.”

about Howard Englander: he had but a single vice.
He was an addicted fisherman.

There are fishermen and fishermen, some who can take
the sport or leave it alone, others hopelessly hooked. Eng-
lander's piscatorial passion ticketed him as one of the latter
group. Moreover, he was a surfcaster, and these devotees
of rod and reel are the most passionate addicts of fishing.

By dawn’s early light, or by no light at all in the middle
of the night, surfcasters will belabor the ocean ceaselessly
with a stuffed eel flung from a sturdy eight- or nine-foot
pole, and it seems to make little difference to them whether
they catch a fish or not.

What is important to a gurfcaster is a thundering roil of
water into which a striped bass or weakfish may chase its
food. The rhythmic pound of the waves, the high-pitched
song of the reel, the flash of line arching far out across
the boiling surf—these are the caster’s reward, even if he
goes home with table fare only a couple of times a year.

On July 5th, 1954, a holiday because the Fourth of July
fell on Sunday, Howard Englander let 8,000,000 other New
Yorkers jam the highways and throng beaches and resorts,
while he rigged his gear to visit his favorite fishing spot
on Manhattan Beach, just west of Coney Island in the
lower reaches of Brooklyn, where he lived.

In the afternoon, he drove his pretty young wife, Iris,
and their 3-year-old daughter, Carol, from their apart-
ment at 830 Ashford Street to his parents’ home. Then
he took his dad and his little girl down to the rock jetty
from which he fished. He practiced casting for a time,
then returned his father and Carol to Moses Englander’s
home and went back to the beach to fish in earnest.

Out alone on the big pile of granite that rose eight feet
above the water level, he cast and retrieved, cast and re-
trieved, lost in a fisherman’s reveries, and what these may
have been only another fisherman could even guess.

Possibly the mutter in the sky of big DC-6s or Super-
Constellations, homing in from Miami in long glides to
Idlewild Airport a few miles to the east, brought back
memories to the 29-year-old veteran of his flights in a B-29
during the war. :

Almost certainly he thought about the “dream home”
out in suburban Levittown, the house for which he had
scrimped and saved from his $84 weekly wages as an
aviation mechanic at the huge Republic plant in Farming-

| eas WHO KNEW HIM agreed upon one thing

Pipe believed murder weapon Is shown to second suspect

WANTED

on @@
"yy

€


EMIERLOTA, John, and RYE, John, whites, electrocuted New FORMS (suffolk) \1-8-1925.

HE TRAIL OF THE DEA

& Yeas

ey *
bie ee RES
ped Sinise 5 ae


276 THE TRAIL OF THE DEAD YEARS

fate had overtaken him. After 16 minutes he was officially
declared dead.

The stories and pictures of this gruesome hanging, shock-
ing as they were, broadcast from coast to coast, accom-
plished nothing except to produce a feeling of disgust and
humiliation in the minds of millions of people at this exhi-
bition of the cruel enforcement of our penal laws. ;

Whether death be brought about by shooting, by hanging,
by the electric chair, or by some potent poison, it still remains
legalized murder. Society says that murder is wrong, then
proceeds to commit a murder infinitely more atrocious than
was committed by the victim that it kills.

Murder by the State is committed deliberately, after plan-
ning and premeditation, and not in the heat of passion, and
is therefore less excusable than the taking of human life by
individuals who do so under force of circumstances.

One cannot witness the burning of a live human being in
the electric chair, if he has a spark of feeling in his system,
without experiencing the most revolting and nauseating sen-

‘sations the human mind can imagine.

Do you recall the execution of John F. Emieletta and John
Rys in the death house at Sing Sing a few years ago? One
cannot recall the story without having visions of all the bar-
barities and savageries of past ages; visions of witches,
saints, and martyrs, burnt to death; visions of victims drawn
and quartered; visions of unspeakable cruelty and barbar-
ism when jails were dungeons, and civilization was young;
visions of the Savior nailed upon the cross.

“Alright, bring them on,” the officer commanded. The
spectators stretched their necks, stopped whispering, trying
to get a glimpse of the unfortunate men as the big guards
were escorting them to the house of death. The door opened.
The boy hesitated, then the big guard, who had him by the
arm, urged him forward. There was silence—the silence of
death.

ai 6 one bin

MURDER BY THE STATE 277

The young man was being strapped in the chair. The
electrodes were put in place. The wire connecting with the
switchboard was attached. The electrode inside of the cap
was forced down on his bare skull; his legs were shaking
and his hands hung limply over the sides of the chair. The
guards stood back. One could hear a pin drop.

The officer gave a signal to the the man at the switchboard.
As the official killer rammed the switch, the boy’s hands
doubled up instantaneously ina knot. The veins on his hands
enlarged until it seemed they would burst. He straightened
in the chair, perspiration running from his pores. The
powerful electric current was cooking this unfortunate devil
alive. The sizzling and crackling of the two thousand volts
sounded like a red hot furnace, paralyzing the heart and
nervous system, and completely disintegrating the blood
corpuscles.

The tenseness and awe of the situation was unspeakable.
One of the witnesses gasped, “Jesus! This is terrible!”
Another one fainted. Others turned pale and sick at the
stomach.

“I pronounce this man dead,” came the matter-of-fact
voice of the doctor. The keepers unstrapped the dead man.
They lifted his cap. The face! God, what a face! It’s vis-
ion will remain with the-spectators to their dying day. Full
of fear, agony, horror. The muscles, ligaments, jugular
vein, doubled and twisted up in knots. The tongue, bitten
nearly in two, hanging by a bloody thread from the corner
of his mouth. His temperature was 137 degrees Fahrenheit.

This young man was burnt and blistered to death by the
lightning of legal justice. His partner in crime met the same
horrible fate. -

We killed these men—you and I—society. The Ten Com-
mandments faded like the stars at sunrise. Christianity
seemed like a myth and a delusion. The painting by James
Montgomery Flagg comes to mind. There is depicted the
vision of the Savior appearing on a scene like this to the con-

“ ‘
A psee .

i ae °

9 ge

3993 ae. te

if ; ite

‘>
o
et
% .
ee
e
®
©
©

ro Ce

te ‘ 2 "y
5. Sg ot >
g ert
“ y ‘ a i 4
time 5a _ ~ “¢ ' = D »
“Fe 2 wa 7 .
é a ‘ .. x i t
‘a . “ ad ae - . y
-4 > Gm we ge 4 S . ean :
A vie ; —. ~*
“ ‘ fond ' = of *
s , . : 2
S &
ry iz - é Ate ta P|
, - : : : “Bs. ? t. : 2
; : Ro ae = ie 2
— . ‘ ie oF ¥ m. ad j
* . 4 ; . ? - Cod af
e fs me, A fi - . . o , es 4
~ m4 > os ~ ‘ . - es
Cc > Bs . : <4 "lay
t> me BG erred ~ a : aden r * ay ; rs
oy 4 Le - ? F ‘ee °
4 + we ¥5
. . -. 4 *.

ihe
: SPUR ran Ts

i ¥-
sth: 7 ee
“ag os Cy,
b
A toe BE YES HIE

9
S PRAGUE SRI PMAY, 1,
fer f 2‘
aa LS. i
er | oP e 3
A ss ar Sas > ay’
*
:
;

Fo Sy +e a
i
é

ron a
WS

el

§: i i 1: bay al at a
ay jue , afte He ; ae Mi
ES. Lo ull i Hf bi HE ‘\ reli isa
1e: i Hilal cr a
[ if : it leisy 1
4

iceman,

pol

pe ae eS
white,

Hey

be

Hitt

bs Y
: : 2 . ¥ ¥ a ot 2 : ‘a 4 wy > bre -§% ' ; ;
‘ . . § - foe a 43 a , . ‘ a F iy : - / , q “ a a ee Sah eee
2 t Bb? 5 » ‘ i yy ‘ e cls at . ; ]
re 7s Rete - , . i ps A ‘ a
: , : : ’ f » Z 4 : 4 erg
2 5 yee e eed pee oe > * gw Ps : F
Seog sa" ’ *\. s**.¢ 5 RE of es? aon ne ee ‘a Pat 4 oe F
3 2 . oe ty e 4, “ ‘

William

n : Pies enorme
rT : ~~

= etn opel cle

CTIVIL, SK) VIVA,


68 NORTHEASTERN 357
ENNIS, W,lliam Hey white, 33, policeman, electrocuted Sing Sing (Kings) on 12-1)-1903,

"New York, Dece ly. = William H, Fnnis, a formery Brooklyn policeman, convicted of
having murdered his wife, was put to death this morning in the electric chair in Sing
Sing Prison. Two applications of the current were made, The murder occurred January
1h, 1902, at the home of MHXX Ennis' mother, MXXGAMABKTE in Canarsie, Ennis is re~
ported to ave made a full confession as to the result of a remarkable experiment
made by a commission of alienists. Ennis, after his conviction, apparently became
insane. A commission appointed by the governor went to the prison and found he had
not only bshibited signs of mental collapse, but his physical condition appeared to
be alarming and he tottered about his cell on his toes, with knees bent outward,

This suggested a test and Ennis was carried to the operating table, An either cone
was placed over his face and just enough of the anesthetic was administ tered to
effect his mind to the point of cloudiness. Then he was suddenly thrown from the
babte to the floor, Ennis alighted upon his feet. We whirled about and walked
across the room, There was no trace of weakness or uncertainty. The doctors burst
into a XAW#KEXX laugh at the SMMKKKKXXX exposure and Ennis joined them, ‘You have
caught me, he said to have remarked, ‘and I am glad of it. No man can realize what
my suffereings have been during the past seven or eight weeks. Pretending madmess, I
have often approached so near the border line that it has not been wholly pretense,'"
Atlanta, Gae, JOURNAL, December 1h, 1903 7(1/5e)

they did put guys in jail for just that.

The chief topic of conversation in the
lockup was food. All knew what they, were
going to have for lunch—Hungarian goulash
—and while they ate their-reakfast of dry
bread, washed down with muddy coffee
served in tin cups, theyAliscussed the goulash
in astonishing detail.“

“The chow here“ai

‘ ys” Big Exrnings in Spare. Time T
"t so bad,” one told me, es, : Act at once! We or you Phas ptt latest style

to-meaaure euit for personal wear, just for ta
“only we neyef get/enough. ‘We're always wd Skee R ae friends, Also onportunity to eer
i hungry.” . . ou take more orders with huge selection of
2 When I {old hith hé could Rave my share > | At seneationall

TE

ford. Also
Nine,

if IMhad offered

of the goulash~he/scamed
go’s finest hotels.

him lunch at onel of Chi
What impres )
prisoners was their youth.
were in their ‘teens and the oldest was no
more than 25. And i

}
H : Pa q
| MEN! 174 ct. sim. DIAMOND. 1°? hatchet-faced fellow w

; : n y 4 ™oney-making plans, and bonus
been to Joliet see | aa Core ees
kg « age, ’
for robbery with a ey were the same . J.C. FIELD & SON, INC,
eveny day in any Harrison and Throop Sts., Dept. H-1736, Chicage 7, ili.

sort of youths you s f

} ie "Impossible, you say? Let Us pfove it. You can have this
i aa massive ring with its sparkling, fine cut, sim. DIAMOND shop or office.

| to examine in your own home at your letsure, and if you If there jis any such thing- as a criminal
j ofthe. purchase. price, “ite saresurh amadiately for refund type I was unable to find it in the Waukegan ALARM CLOCKS

Tend, yalue will convince your friends “you're in the mones ail—or in any other jail I’ve ever visited.
It takes Ll the di J y J

and the original costing, $25000 cer meere te tne ce | TG one prisoner, a lad of /18, “Why are ACCURATE, DEPENDABLE |

.' delay.

Thi 1 a d $1. ” ible, com-

i blur 209% Fed. Tarenothing ore ime: (rco.D. tar | YOU here?” . oy norm orca
i if -O.D. charges extra). State ring size, Drunk,” he said. f arm clocks. Silen
} . “ ” * : fj a t

: ARTEX CO., Dept. 1004-C ‘And you?” I inquired of other. ticking, sharp ringing

PS 415 Lexington Ave., New York 17, N. Y. “Drunk and disorderly.” ; pen ogg tye are ora

j STUDY AT HOME for Personal I learned that these were common com- sures master clock

i Success and LARGER EARN. plaints, and most of the inmates were serv- nous eich hes ame

eas. fied 7106,000 eteten rue ing from 30 to 90 days each, depending on

} ; ; rolled. LL.B. Degree awarded. All | whether the offense was/ drunk and dis-— falling triesat SEND
ment plen. Send tor PREG ROOK | OTderly or just plain drunk, NO MONEY. Just pay
"Law and Executive Guidance” The real curse of their imprisonment was on delivers one
ow! their enforced idleness, There was nothing i= age charges, :
AMERICAN EXTENSION SCHOOL OF LAW for them to do but talk,/and nothing much UNITED PRODUCTS CO., 7041. 8, Halsted
1 Dept. 75-0, 646 N. Michigan Ave., Chicage 11, Ill, | to ony about except what they would get Dept. CAL-158, Chicage 20, til.
q to ea
i i They never saw a ne spaper, never heard —
| a radio, and\had no inkling of “what was

ARTHRITIS-NEURITIS-SCIATICA happening in the~outs le-World. When I

f you suffer the agonizing paing
of these diseases when ths usual relayed to them the

Svnew trustworthy taciery test | Loch’ pre jenna

4 a ne rustwo Ye ie! - aes,

| | surgical .treatment method, This Naeveloun clamored for all the gory/d
‘ treatment ‘is letely plained in the Ball Ten or 12 men wer

Clinic's FREE Book. Write today, No obligation, bullpen, quite bare ex pt

BALL CLINIC Dept.. 61, Excelsior Springs, Me, and a low wooden bench. A barefoot young ce : s looking’ of exe's. . ;
Negro sat on the pail] with a tattered copy eT lity ena “pmb Sal Bln gas, ditecaeias
1 of an old magazine, oving his lips as he SAMPLES” For "AGENTS Sn offer sent ix

ey read to himself, The hers sat on the bench, send name at once. A penny postal will do, BEND RO MORES. Just
# - Learn how to protect your invention. Booklet con- staring stonily at the floor’ They had run your name," KRisTEE CO :

in front-page story
ing of “Dickie”
re excited and
etails,

mfined in a large
for a metal pail

a taining information on patent protecti d A : °
orm will ‘be out of conversation. othing to do but sit

Gedure with “Record of Invention” form will be :
: “On te up, and moved about. NEW ROD EO SA

a forwarded to you upon request—without obligation,

iF CLARENCEA.O’BRIEN & HARVEY JACOBSON

reproduction of a fine hand-carved

B ‘ Registered Patent Attorneys One _ st ty tag i .
+ TA7-A District National Building en all rose ow im, hands | Ayepro Hpn of a fine
ib i Washington 5, D. C. clasped behind th¢ir backs, heads bowed, Solid Strling Silver of highest Sua
PSYCHO P AR milling around and around in an endless H “dy or Gent. Ladian en ie, fOr
me 5 MONEY with order just te ane
Intriguing Party Game. Fascinating Solitaire Game. Toward noon they smielled the goulash | address, and sens igus Lady of
4a Your Bayche ees ee Of the atin aes, on ascending from the basement kitchen. They: | Gent. Pay Postman on arrival $4.95

Universities. These tests proved conclusively that i iffin der,
7 people se under law fas onctusively that pressed close agaihst e bars, sniffing order, we wil
ice. }

than Ww of chan: we neglecting to develop hungrily.

f Boutin piixth sense? .The stuff arrived in“aidumb-waiter and | Xa" NATIONAL RING Co.

t le De Orly GAME... eceecccoeee, 1.75 . Dept. 51-4 Wheeling, W. Va.
Single Deck, Solitaire Ur eee Tt cay 1.60 was shoved between the/bars in metal con- . aah

knives, forks or

and/ eagerly scooped
Be An Artist! up the mess with /iis fingers—like so many

famished animalsAn a cage.
Ti if z Pitgst *
Eornnd $50. $65 se erp ot Meanwhile thé morning mail had come.
Learn to draw at home in Your There were three Postcards, two, letters and
peace bawg for Fagg ems a parcel,
jobby and Profitable Career

Study Art the pleasant and interest- , The package : Mer Dept Faec.ibo contest cimasse%,
Moning. -Cartzontemmerelal Art, De- | jailer had inspe contents before giving

plete course. No prertia.: art experi. | it tohim. It contai néd two bars of chocolate,

«profited ‘bear peltindreds have | pack of chewing’ gum, fh: cake of soap and ‘
Hep. Mnethvods eines ia eR RT some stationery. /The yduth looked at these AR REST THAT
ABT OUTFITS | FURNISHED, trifles with a grfat show of indifference. for
VETERANS! pica EE |
iy Course available under “G.I.” Bill. the benefit of those whd were watching him, ia R U PTU RE LH
LLC® | but anybody could see orn tre. | | Don'tlet it get away from you! Carelexe
' : ie ‘indiff is
Studie 43H 1 U5 150% Sty Wwe e was like a child on ieouiie’ I nema neglect urually cause

& , DR AW fo r MON EY wach —_ oo id his | Portion, squatted as Learn Oo lable Profession

ol
x
4

non, ‘e
gan win independence and prepare
for Speen aestie A ratdne at
a ual ng for Diplona
Anatomy Chares and 32. eu.
lustrated Book FREE—Now!

eee

mendously excitéd. about our Air Cushion

/ : :
fit sentieies Christmas morning. He examined each of Support. Ready f, NOW! Light,
shat a | the objects, reading the labels on the chewing cool sanitary. Durable, cheap Clip tod
secetbsessck im “ gum and candy, then wrapped them up and for Free Booklet and Proof of Re-
EP Git H put them aside, and looked at the ceiling, sults. No-Risk Trial Offer.

whistling to himself, ostensibly unconcerned. BROOKS Co., Box317G, Marshall, Micu.

‘* eee
‘ ym a
Delicate


shialinie pentane Rt

GENUINE MILITARY

WRIST WATCH

Complete with New Style

EXPANSION BAND
LL

eeper, for ONL

Military wris t watch, 9 5

rerision built, split-escond tme-

Ke NEY $13.95 plus tax! ae
ater-protected, shock absorber. —

. tax. m wi 10d for refund.
CORONA WATCH SALES COMPANY
809 W. Madison St. Dept.B-87 Chicage 7, Ui.

OPPORTUNITIES AHEAD!

RAIN FOR A FUTURE IN

SEL

Prepare forthe big earning power of Diesel Trained
Men, Start learning at home, in s time. UEI’s
pone bya Meg covers all ph = of om

ine operation, systems, auxii! ment
repairs and maintenance. When home cores spinon
ieago for actual shop practice

. Pleted, you come to Ch
on DIESEL MOTORS under exper io
UEI's fine

pore at
school. BEGIN AT ONCE—
GET ALL THE FACTS: FREE. WRITE ‘TO

DAY!
vision UTILITIES ENGINEERING INSTITUTE
1314 Beiden Avenue, '637D, Chicago 14, Minols

STOP Scratching
I Relieve Itch in a jiffy

> &. Sufferers from the torturing itch

pimp es,
scabies, athlete's foot, “factory” itch,
“and other itch troubles, are praising

Philo Burt support, writes:
ut

@ spinal deformity. was playing
around the house within four weeks.
nm our Free Book, many users tell

Permanent correction.

Over 68,000 benefited by
Philo Burt Back Aid
If your back is weak, injured, dis-
eased or defo: |. investigate what
the patented Philo Burt Appliance
can do for you, Light, flexible and
easily adjustable, it’s far more
comfortable than torturing plas-
ter casts, leather and celluloid
jackets or steel braces. Physi-
cians recommend it; and we
work with your doctor.

“PHILO BURT CO.,
48-15 Odd Fellows T:

Jamestown, New Y es

evil woman is worse than death.” It was
said that Paula had confessed to him that
she’d been unfaithful, after he'd had private
dicks on her trail, And why had he em-
ployed these operatives? Because Paula
drank her ‘whisky straight.

Wolfe said he did not reprove her for her
- infidelity until, on a plane trip, the motors
dinned into his brain the incessant refrain,
“Ihave been unfaithful—I have been un-
faithful—I have been un. . .”

On the stand he asked for a bible. When
it was not immediately produced he said,
“Never mind,” and began reciting long pas-
sages of Scripture from memory.

Drs. Benjamin Apfelberg and Morris Her-
man of Bellevue, renowned psychiatrists,
took the witness chair and testified that
Wolfe was suffering from dementia praecox
of the paranoid type, a form of insanity
frequently bent toward homicide,

declared. “I demand the death sentence be-
cause I want to go to my God and my love.
If Jesus lived today you would declare Him
insane because He had the guts to stand up
and fight for what is right. I don’t want to
live in’ this society. I was sane the night of
the crime. Give me the works.”

He put the psychiatrists on the stand and
cross-examined them himself. But he was
committed to the Matteawan State Hospital
for the Criminal Insane despite his contention
that he was not crazy. He was either batty

| Or very, very clever, indeed.

PSYCHIATRY, AS A. science, is still
imperfect, but mote is ming known
year after year about the human mind and
its workings. The average layman remains
suspicious of the psychiatrist ‘who takes the
witness stand in criminal cases, partly per-
haps because the jargon of the profession is

he feels the alienist is guessing as much as
anyone else. :
uch is not the case. There is much that
is certain about insanity, its forms, its symp-
toms, its manifestations. Nor are the services
of a reputable psychiatrist for sale to the
highest bidder, to testify as an “expert”
on the side of whoever may hire him. Little
by little he is becoming important in criminal
procedure, and unquestionably one of his
greatest uses of the future is in diagnosing
anti-social character and beginning its cor-
rection in very young malefactors, thus pre-
venting the development of criminal traits
fore they overpower normal feelings in the
individual.

the sanity of certain criminals has worked
out well, and is a far step from the early
recognition that craziness should be 2 defense
in a criminal case, and from that era, not too
long dead, when every crook who could show
he’d been bumped on the head had a chance
of getting away with murder.

Then there was the Indiana con nearly 20

ears ago, in for a long stretch on an auto

nditry conviction. The governor at the
time was an old-time college football star,
and was possessed of something of a flair for
newspaper dramatics. a}

So, when. the con pleaded that he’d turned
crook because of being kicked in the noggin
in a gridiron contest, the governor made
front page copy by giving the poor guy
a pardon, and following it up by an expensive
head operation, paid for out of the guber-
natorial pocket. It made quite a story.

The follow-up was even better. ithin a
month after his release from the hospital
with a supposedly revamped social instinct,
the crook was back in stir—on another
charge of auto banditry. The Hoosiers began
to wonder who was crazy, after all.

’ And so, for that matter, do a lot of the
rest of us too. Of course, we are all right.
Nothing wrong with our .brainwork. But

Jones, now, or take Smythe, or Brown... .

Then Wolfe arose. “I am not crazy,” he.

Whi
Ha
1 emt

1 4 Choice of any 2 Initials
This rich looking ring set with Beautifully d.
flashing om ane i ring with Talula of we ing
pantrn’ Barer” 8 Kiet cheng serseriee tors ses
ea. e
You'll be proud to wear it; with simulated dinmona -

Be gene IO oe Foal
Solid Sterling ver, thal notion guaranteed or soa aay oy
BAREAINT USodd ta Bie EES anh accent

Diamond Co., 2435S. Indiana Ave., Dept. 773, Chicago 16, 11

new and strange, but more possibly because.

‘The use of impartial commissions to judge |-

ing

. Each garm
Turn the Pp ppular demand for tailoring into
ready je

BIG Income Selling
TAILORING

Do you want bigger earnings, a grow-
business, ind d ? Here's your
opportunity. One of America’s finest
Made - to- Measure Tailoring Liries now
available to a few more capable men.

NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY

Our men have been making bi: ', Steady incomes
f 1. Wi Hi. and sam-
ois Kine Fates seins habe ome Be

AY!

FAIRBANKS TAILORING CO.
Oakley at Wabensia, Dept. 73, Chicage 47, itt.

Benefits begin the day you eater bespitat
FOR SICKNESS OR ACCIDENT ‘

able to pay your
accident, you will be

MAIL COUPON TODAY— Ne Agent Witi Bether You

FAMILY MUTUAL LIFE INSURANCE CO, wim

A DAY.+ EACH ADULT
VWAc ABAY © Eacw cunt.

INGTON $9. DEL

pad, opto. 2. . $540.00

F Mutual Life Insurance Co. Da-7
G0 Shipley Ste Wee ee eee

Please send me, without obligation complete tnforma-
tion Bi t Hospitati Plane

on your
NAME

ADDRESS

city STATE


By
MICHAEL |
STERN

EEMING throngs filled the street
on thix sunny winter’s day when
the staccato clatter of murderous
gunfire sounded.

Women screamed and threw them-
selves to the ground. Slugs tore into
bodics and men keeled over like tenpins
before a well-aimed strike.

Two killers — brothers —like low
beasts in the jungle slaughtering in-
discriminately, loosed a deadly hail of
lead into the dense crowd. It didn’t
matter who was hit. It was only im-

portant that somebody—anybody—went
down; for it was their eredo to kill, kill,
kill, as long as a single cartridge re-
mained in the six high-powered revolvers
they carried.

The frightful scene left in the wake
of these monsters was almost without
parallel in New York City. The slugs
were blasted from their murderous
weapons during the noon-hour rush at
Thirty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue,
shopping center for the nation. The
many persons pouring out of the Em-
pire State Building, which towers 102
stories above the street, and from ad-
joining office buildings during the lunch
hour, added to the crowd of shoppers
and pedestrians, offered a mass target

MASTER DETECTIVE

os

(Photo Copyriv.
(Left) }
(back gr:
the thu
ground
ageous «

that it =
This ern
the brother:
shot down «
more prope!
of vicious
Parole Bow:
Joseph |
Commission,
the confere:
thickly ca
Parole Bow:
of William
and one-ha!
for assault)
revolver. \\
ing-eyed, =!
had been)

APRIL, 1941

ee

and some time
icago,

of the “mad

later, when h
Suilty to murde
district attorney

Twin was

ET ACorDc -
It’s

A commission appointed

later surrendered himself jn

sane, and
attorneys Offered a plea of

nd degree, the

h oer
Sounds somewhat Screwy, doesn’t it? Bu
S Ww listen to what Irwin Said right after his
with i - Pa: tman oni: sap ped arrest i :

If not satishet get Are in 8 “Sure I bargained with that newspaper
iar Srna ote ie I got $5,000 for surrendering to those People | Jf you
i . + Dept. T-209, . and giving them the story. If ind myself uu
in an institution for life, I want money so
| peng I oe ire pid mn to do things
i or me. For a do ar a week you can get
| I N VE N T oO R KY service, That js all I want of the $5,000,

Patent laws encourage the development of he rest can go to my -brothers, The bank
inventi is registered to Practice | Can handle the details.”

before the U. S. Paten Office, Write for fur.

ther. parti as

When Winnie Ru

trial in Phoenix, Ar
RMAN & DAVIDSON

Yat ;
h fixtures or nsive equipment 1.
er of Ann Le oi, one of her two women Bea teeetha ae ele R
ary ° . ° p=
Registered Patent Attorneys victims, she tried to get off by assuming the head °pe. are sa, ,there will be =
1749 Victor Building, Washington 1, D, role ke = mani Owever, she made a Dairmen, “**tTical appliance "tye
mistake, '
Dr. Joseph Catton, a noted San Francisco: NO PREVious
: frupy Sod | Eine ie Fersonal alienist, in testifying for the State). Pointed EXPERIENCE NEEDED.
INGS. Tornog*Pert, instrue. | Out that if Winnie Ruth really was a manic- : :
sion ever 108,000 student en- Cpressive type of insane Person, as she was had °S! Det matter of 7ou have not
rolled. LL.B. Degree awarded. All trying to get the Jury to believe, her vicious
text material furnished, Eas '° . 4
Late nade fnd for FREE BOOK | outbursts Would be directed ind
pa’ 3 ae Executive Guidance”

Tusely illu
against her Own attorneys and relatives as | : erstand iat
j well as those trying to convict her, - and photogre
AMERICAN EXTENSION SCHOOL OF Law sC. However, all of her Paroxysms of rage he
Dept. 75-0, 646 .N. Michigan Ave,, Chicago 11, 1m, said. on the Stand, had been against himself,
— the: sheriff and others of the Prosecution,
rs. Judd was 5 ming,

t; but when his alter-ego
no Tge Murman, took Over he went Prowling
= In homes and would kil] anyone who got
LS 1S way.

Genuine The youth said he could not recall his acts
DISCHAR E RI N STERLING SILVER while the Personality o urman was domi-
SA VALUB! Mat r ened aa nant, but it Was shown that he was sane

terling Sic HONORABER DISCHARGES RING. | enough to know r ight from

vllow gold finish, for only $1.98 plus tax, Beautifui

‘'scharge Emblem on handsome
magnificent ring you'll w.

END NO MONEY

scrolled mounting,
ear for life,

Illinois State pe
Mail your namé, address,

" of another char-
andring size today. Your acter entirely, € slew his second wife,
Sterling Gold Finish Discharge Ring will be aula Nona Wolfe, a brunette beauty, in
ou At ONCE. ear chat Postman — Ney their Brooklyn hotel room, pounding her life
hted renee: i and pair money wil be re- | away with a metal tipped shoe on ecember
uh 4 ace, ae Bond atitfaction she gy , 43
(DE Win poatttiP of paper fob size, Judge Louis Goldstein Presided at the
{ARLES ART, 616 Wainut St.- ~ trial,’ which Wolfe punctuated from time to
pt. K-204 CINCINNATI 2, ONO time with such Philosophica

n that respect the scul
mad

law,
for sanity and

Was sentenced to a certain

th
iz., in

ctim of schizo-
ad two Separate
W!

I remarks as “An

YOUR OWN
APPLIANCE

BUSINESS

BIG MONEY
INDEPENDENCE ‘

Strated
Simple, eas
suage,

START.

REPAIR

NOW
EL

cla

fs CO.

tl
Vieane Me free
about Ame: ca's Fant.
ELECTRICAL APP
NOM. sscsser,

APPLIANCE
REPAIRING

f I am a
i Western

illustratea literature
Now Wak hndustry

ECTRICAL;


Mystery of the
Bludgeoned
Schoolteacher

(Continued from page 53)

Captain Dominica took one more pre-
caution which was to pay large divi-
dends. He provided postal inspectors
at Mount Vernon post office with a
specimen of Eckwerth’s handwriting and
requested them to report to him prompt-
ly on any mail in that handwriting
which might be addressed to Eckworth’s
relatives.

The coffee company’s missing panel
truck was found at about this time,
where it had been abandoned in the
parking lot of the New Haven R. R. sta-
tion in Mount Vernon. The motor vehicle
theft complaint was then dropped from
the warrant for Eckwerth’s arrest. He
was still wanted for the theft of the cash
receipts, however.

“I’m not ready to dismiss the possi-
bility that this guy is connected with the
Spezzo girl’s disappearance,” Captain
Dominico said as he and a group of his
aides reviewed the information they had
gathered, “but for the time being, we'll
consider them as two separate cases.”

Eventually, he pointed out, they might
find that the dual investigations would
join, but for the moment the only ap-
parent overlap was that Eckwerth was
the last person known to have seen
Rosemary Spezzo before she disap-
peared. His story of that encounter
could well be true. e

As for the coincidence in timing of
his own disappearance, this might have
been prompted by his theft of company
funds and fear of revocation of his
probation.

Furthermore, as matters now stood
they had no evidence that anything
criminal was involved in the school-
teacher’s disappearance. Detectives had
learned that she had suffered amnesia
attacks on two occasions in the past.
It might have happened again. The ob-
vious conjecture that she might have
run away voluntarily with Eckwerth
seemed quite unlikely. The character
and reputation of Rosemary Spezzo were
spotless”

Heartsick and baffled, her family in-
sisted that Rosemary simply would not
voluntarily have gone away for any
considerable length of time without
taking her insulin and hypodermic
syringe. They also pointed out that she
would not have left without taking her
clothes. She was so tiny, wearing a
size five, that she always had trouble
buying readymade wearing apparel.

The missing insurance man was elim-
inated from consideration when he re-
turned home after a monumental bender.
Even a cursory check of his foggy recol-
lections proved that he could have had
nothing to do with Rosemary's disap-
pearance.

The status of the case remained vir-
tually unchanged for two weeks. Detec-
tive Sergeant Patrick Christopher was
assigned to continue the investigation,
but other than a new complaint from
a local merchant that Eckwerth had
stuck him with a rubber check for $20
the Saturday before he disappeared,
nothing new was turned up. Not on
Sergeant Christopher’s beat, at any rate.

Unknown to the Yonkers detective,
however, Edward Eckwerth was locked
up in a jail cell on July 11th, and he
was a long way from home. A minor
traffic violation while driving a stolen
car had brought about his arrest in
Tillamook, Oregon. Unable to raise
$5,000 bail, he languished in Multnomah
County jail while awaiting trial. He
had been transferred to Portland, where
the car he was driving was stolen.

Westchester County authorities in

ie
€> DPALIN)
“It's beautiful, Spike. Must be worth at least fifteen years.”

New York got their first clue to his
present whereabouts on August 18th,
when a postal inspector in the Mount
Vernon post office spotted the hand-
writing on a letter which looked like the
Eckwerth specimen they had on file.
The return address was “Multnomah
County Jail, Oregon.”

Advised of this, Westchester District
Attorney Joseph Gagliardi immediately
contacted District Attorney William
Langley, in Portland. He briefed Lang-
ley on New York’s charge of theft
against Eckwerth in the coffee company
receipts, and the fact that he was also
a suspect in the disappearance of Rose-
mary Spezzo. The Oregon District At-
torney said he would question Eckwerth
and report back.

His report was not long in forth-
coming. Langley said Eckwerth frank-
ly admitted stealing $268 of his employ-
er’s money, but he vigorously denied
any connection with Miss Spezzo’s dis-
appearance. He conceded only that he
had given her a lift downtown. The
last time he saw her, he insisted, was
when she got out of his truck.

Langley said he asked him: “Why
did you leave Yonkers the next day?”

Eckwerth’s reply was, “I was fed up,
but even more important, I was scared.

“I’m a two-time loser. When I heard
that girl was missing, I was afraid they’d
try to pin it on me. I had to blow town.”

Eckwerth claimed he could prove he
had not taken the Spezzo girl with him
on his flight, because he had other com-
pany. According to the story he told the
Oregon prosecutor, he struck up an ac~-
quaintance with a 28-year-old school-
teacher on his westward trip. She came
from Minnesota and was on her way
to Portland to attend a national teach-
ers’ convention due to open there in
July.

They had become very friendly, he
said, and stayed together in motels in
Spokane, Portland and several other
towns. He gave Langley the girl’s name
and home address, and he called to
check on the story.

“T’ve talked to the girl and her moth-
er,” Langley said. “She was quite em-
barrassed, but she confirms Eckwerth’s
story.”

Gagliardi was far from satisfied. The
Minnesota teacher’s corroboration ac-
counted for Eckwerth’s movements only
partially. What about the gap unac-
counted for from the time he left Yon-
kers until he met her in Minnesota?

Gagliardi arranged for Oregon au-
thorities to suspend action on the auto
theft charges and have Eckwerth re-
leased to New York on a grand larceny

charge stemming from the theft of his

company receipts. “It’s his third offense
here, and we can give him a stiff sen-
tence on that charge,” he pointed out.

Eckwerth waived extradition and was
returned to Yonkers. On Saturday, Au-
gust 20th, he was taken to New York
City by Sergeant Christopher and De-
tective Hoffarth to retrace the move-
ments he claimed he had made prior to
taking a bus to Chicago in his cross-
country flight. They quickly discovered
numerous discrepancies in his_ story,
and the more they questioned him, the
more confused Eckwerth became.

Back at the police station in Yonkers,
Sergeant Christopher wasted no words.
“Eckwerth,” he said, “we know you’re
lying, and you know we know it. Soon-
er or later, we’re going to get the truth,
and you know that, too. Now are you
going to face up to it, or are we going
to have to do it the hard way?”

Eckwerth’s eyes shifted nervously un-
der the officer’s direct gaze. For several
moments he remained silent. Then he

_

said he wanted to see his wife and
daughter.

Sergeant Christopher told him they
were upstate with his wife’s family. “I'll
get in touch with her, but I don’t know
if she wants to see you.”

“If you'll let me see my wife and
daughter,” the prisoner said, “I’ll show
you where the body lies.”

His words took Christopher and Hof-
farth by surprise. Christopher was the
first to break the dramatic silence. “You
meen Rosemary Spezzo’s body?” he
said.

“Yes, but I want to see my wife and
daughter first.” He spoke softly, but
there was a stubborn note in his voice.

Sergeant Christopher left the room
and got busy on the telephone. Among
those he called were District Attorney
Gagliardi, Deputy Public Safety Com-
missioner McCue, Captain Dominica
and Captain James Hollis, all of whom
he advised of the new development.
They appeared at the Yonkers station
within the hour.

Sergeant Christopher went back in to
see Eckwerth. “I’ve sent word to your
wife,” he said, “but it’s going to take
several hours before she can get here.
You might as well start talking now,
while we're waiting. How about it?”

Eckwerth nodded resignedly. The
sergeant called in District Attorney Gag-
liardi and the other officials. A stenog-
rapher also was brought in to record the
expected statement.

Eckwerth began his confession on a
note that immediately produced seri-
ous skepticism among his listeners. He
claimed that he had been conducting an
affair with Rosemary Spezzo.

No one believed it. In the investiga~-
tion which followed her disappearance,
the girl’s life had been subjected to
microscopic scrutiny; if there had been
any illicit liaison in her background,
detectives could not have failed to find
some trace of it, however small.

To the contrary, individually and
cumulatively, all their findings consti-
tuted a convincing argument against
such a possibility. From the very out-
set, therefore, Eckwerth’s story sounded
like a lie.

The officials present, however, did not
want to risk destroying Eckwerth’s in-
clination to talk by stopping his narra-
tive to contradict him at this point.
Time enough for that when they had
the whole story.

Eckwerth said he and Rosemary had
driven around for a while the afternoon
of June 22nd, till about six-thirty. They
then went to a trysting spot about 75
feet off a private road leading to a girl’s
school which had closed for the sum-
a “We planned a necking party,” he
said.

They got along fine for a little while,
but the unpleasantness started when
Rosemary complained about their clan-
destine meetings, Eckwerth’s story con-
tinued. He claimed she wanted him to
divorce his wife, give up his child and
marry her. He refused. A hot argument
ensued, during which he lost his tem-
per and started punching the girl until
she lost consciousness.

“It was then,” Eckwerth added, “that
I suddenly decided I just had to kill
her. She'd become a nuisance to me.
That happens with a lot of women.”

He acted on his decision by dragging
Rosemary, still unconscious, about fifty
feet further into the heavily forested
area. He then found a heavy rock and
used it to batter her on the head until
she was dead. Before leaving, he took
$26 from her purse and tossed the bag
into the woods.

Eckwerth disclosed he was sure no

Nope

— ue? Sa R 8 xa eo am :
“Free-Film” Processing Maile
and 50 ft. 8mm Movie with your purchase

of a roll of 8mm Color Film.

ANSCO 8mm Color Film $2.50

{6 rolls for only $14)

KODACHROME II
8mm Color Film $3

(6 rolls for only $17)
MAIL COUPON NOW!

WITH YOUR PURCHASE OF
1 ROLL OF 8mm COLOR FILM

Your Choice of a 50 Ft. TWIST Movie, GOLF
PROS IN Slow-Motion, or any ef the SO Ft.
movies listed here:

ANY OF THESE

8mm MOVIES FREE!

. Girls Twisting.

. Golf Pros in Slow-Motion.

. Surfboarding Thrills.

. Bullfighting in Mexico.

. Beauty Contest Winners.

. Scenic Views of Rome, Paris or
Grand Canyon.

ONE FREE 50 FT. MOVIE WITH
EACH ROLL OF COLOR FILM YOU BUY.

Den me wh —

MOVIE NEWSREELS, Dept. 1839
1621 Cahuenga, Hollywood 28, Calif.

Enclosed find $_ . Send me: rolls of
D Ansco [ Kodachrome 1! and free SO Ft.

Movie +

NAME.

ADDRESS.

CITY.

one would ever connect him to Miss
Spezzo, but he was rudely shocked when
her father appeared at his door at five-
thirty the very next morning to inquire
about his missing daughter.

“That was when I decided I had to
blow town. I knew the cops would be
wanting to talk to me, and, with my
record, I couldn't take any chances.”

Eckwerth said he was ready to lead
them to the spot where he had hidden
Rosemary Spezzo’s body. He was put in
a police car which headed a cortege
of official vehicles to the murder scene.

When he told the driver to stop, he
alighted from the car without hesita-
tion and strode purposefully into the
woods till he came to a large tree sur-
rounded by a clump of bushes.

The badly decomposed remains of
Rosemary Spezzo lay among the bushes.
Her skull had been battered and crushed.
Her purse was found after a lengthy
search, deeper in the woods. There was
no money in it, and no trace of the $300
check she had been on her way to
deposit in the bank. It contained only
her driver’s license and a few personal
items.

Eckwerth disclaimed all knowledge of
the check. “I didn’t take it. I never saw
it,” he insisted.

A Westchester County grand jury in-
dicted Eckwerth for first-degree mur-
der on August 3lst, and his trial began
on January 3, 1957. Not too surprisingly,
he repudiated his confession. But equal-
ly expected, the jury placed little cre-
dence in his attempts to explain Rose-
mary’s death as natural.

They returned their verdict on Febru-
ary 5th, finding Edward Eckwerth guilty
of the murder of the young school teach-
er. County Judge Hugh S. Coyle imposed
the supreme penalty on February 13th.

A series of legal motions delayed the
inevitable for two years, but on May 22,
1959, Eckwerth had exhausted his last
appeal. At 11:00 p.m. on that date, after
a last meal of spaghetti and meat balls,
with two pints of strawberry ice cream
for dessert, Edward Eckwerth was led
into Sing Sing’s death chamber, alter-
nately sobbing and praying.

He was strapped into the electric
chair, the electrodes were affixed to his
body, the helmet lowered over his head,
obscuring his face, and a tense hush fell
— the assembled witnesses and offi-
cials.

The switch was thrown and his body
flexed convulsively against the straps
which held him. Three minutes later, he
was pronounced dead. e¢o¢

69


Dark-haired Italian beauty (above) had twice before
undergone periods of amnesia. Day she vanished, she
was en route to buy needed drugs. Coffee ‘salesman's
wife (below) told cops her husband disappeared, too.

4% ONCE EMBARKED on the path of crime, the records
bear out, the habitual criminal seldom redeems himself.
No one knows all of the deep-rooted drives and unreal
fears that motivate such a person. What is known is that
most people of that type commit a capital crime sooner
or later that forever ends their chance of any redemption.
Such was the man that petite Rosemary Spezzo met one
fatal night in June. This dark haired girl would have
chosen to die rather than submit to sexual assault. That
meeting sealed her fate and it put the habitual criminal’s
fate in the hands of a court and jury.

He had been born, it seemed, destined for trouble. Women
were his weakness. Women and the habit of taking what-
ever he wanted by whatever means he could. When in need
of money, he had stolen it. Police records showed he had
been charged several times with grand larceny and robbery.
- When he needed a car, he stole. Police records had him
down for auto theft. When he needed love, he stole that,
too. Most of the time his handsome face and smooth talk
had put over his successful romance robberies.

He had been headed toward the Rosemary Spezzo trouble
for a long time. January 19th, was the last step
toward it, the step that upped him, from larceny, robbery
and auto theft, to the violent end of crime. A crippled
woman on crutches was the first to feel the whiplash of the
fury gathering within a man on the wrong side of the law.
_ She ran a motel with a restaurant and bar on Route 52
in Orange County, New York. That day in January a clean-
cut young man entered, had a blackberry brandy, followed
4 a beer, and a ham sandwich. The customer was slowly

Her

by H.H. BELTON

#

ouldn't

pO

Yes
To Save

-*

gticccs atari

pe na

sipping a cup of coffee as the proprietor hobbled on her

crutches toward the kitchen. She was a woman. Moreover,

she was crippled. And she undoubtedly had money in the
cash register.

Fists, thrown bravely by the habitual criminal, smashed
the woman in a sudden rage of savagery. Her crutches were
sent clattering to the floor. Her jaw was broken. She fell,
a helpless, bewildered human, wondering what hell had
suddenly been loosed upon her. The man funmbled with the
register drawer, but couldn't unlock it. He grabbed. her

purse, took $150 from it. Then he roughly pulled two °

diamond rings from the fallen woman’s fingers. He left her
there, bleeding and in pain, and sped out the door.

He was seen. He was identified. He was arrested and
convicted of first-degree larceny and second-degree assault.
The sentence was five to eight years in the penitentiary.
Despite his police record—nine arrests in all—he was able
to talk himself into a suspended sentence, and was placéd
on indefinite probation, : ;

This was the man. who came into a Yonkers store at
about three o’clock, June 22nd, to purchase a pack of
cigarettes at the same time Rosemary Spezzo entered to buy
chewing gum. The dark Italian beauty of the petite brunette
set’his eyes gleaming. He had seen her around the neighbor-
hood before, had gained a casual acquaintance. Now he
chatted with her. They left the store together, and it was
only natural that, headed in the same direction, they ‘walked
together up Crescent Place to Yonkers Avenue. A barber
on the street saw them enter a panel truck parked before
his shop. He thought the man was simply giving Rosemary
a lift.

At seven o'clock that night, four hours later, Rosemary’s
parents received a telephone call that alarmed them. It was
from the pharmacy at the Cross County Center where
Rosemary had taken a summer job as cashier.

“Where's Rosemary?” the store manager .asked. “She
sick?”

The parents became highly agitated. Rosemary suffered

Badly decomposed body of young woman was found in w

ooded area. Victim's skull had been crushed with a rock.

from diabetes but she had had no insulin when she left
home. She had intended to deposit a $300 school pay-
check at the First National Bank, then purchase some of
the drugs she needed. She should have been home if she
had been taken ill. If not sick, she would have reported to
her job. What had happened?

Agonizing hours passed slowly. By eleven o'clock that
night no word had been heard from Rosemary, and her
father went out to search the streets for her. In his desperate
hunt for his daughter he eventually arrived at a store where
he was told, by the owner, that Rosemary had stopped in,
and left with a young salesman. She had seemed to know
the man. The only salesman, as far as Rosemary's father
knew, who was acquainted with his daughter was 29-year-
old Edward Eckwerth, an industrious, pleasant fellow who
delivered coffee to their house. But Eckwerth was married,
the father of a two-year-old girl. It was not until midnight
had passed, and Saturday was five hours old, that the
missing girl’s father felt driven to take some action. He
found Eckwerth’s address in the phone directory, hopped a
bus, and got off at Purser Place.

Eckwerth was surprised at his early-hour visitor, but im-
mediately cooperative. Yes, he told the girl’s father, he had
bumped into Rosemary in the store, had talked with her
briefly, then given her a lift downtown to the bank. He had
gone on about his own business after dropping her off,
hadn't seen her again. :

Spezzo returned to his home, to wait some more. It was
at ten that Saturday morning that the parents gave up.
They called the Yonkers police and reported their daughter
as missing. The description of Rosemary was immediately
flashed throughout thirteen states. Detectives Albert Hof-
farth and Robert Maitre questioned the. parents, and tried
to pick up the girl’s trail at the store where she last had
been seen. They spoke with the barber who had seen her
enter the panel truck. They went to the First National Bank.

“No,” bank employees told the sleuths. “Rosemary Spezzo
never came CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE

= es ae

D0

nooroete SaqTuM Spazempy “Ai

mag
@
a.

fi


congas. oe

Pp iP Sos, ail a

Family never gave up hope that Rosemary, though long missing, was alive.
Sheriff had to break news that her body was found. Below: He was jailed.

in here yesterday afternoon.”

Maitre and Hoffarth were stumped.
“Maybe she had a dizzy spell—some
faintness or something from her dia-
betes,” Maitre theorized. “We could
check at the drug store where she
usually bought insulin. She might have
needed some and gone there first, in-
stead of going to the bank.”

The two sleuths headed for the drug
store. But there they learned Rosemary
had not been in. There was just one lead
left—Edward Eckwerth. They drove to
Purser Place to question the young
salesman. Eckwerth, his wife told them,
was out on his coffee sales route. He
had left early that morning, before she
was out of bed. No, she could never say
exactly where he’d be at any given hour
of the day.

“Well, have him call headquarters
when he comes home,” Maitre asked.

AITRE and Hoffarth waited at

Yonkers Detective Bureau. By
that night, June 23rd, they received no
call from Eckwerth. They checked at his
home the following day. He still had
not returned home. He was always run-
ning around with women, the sleuths
learned, It was possible he had stayed
overnight with some girl friend.

“He’s not delivering coffee,” Hoffarth
said. “That’s for sure.”

Eckwerth did not show up by the
25th, Now his employer, operator of
a coffee firm in Newark, New Jersey,
came to Yonkers headquarters and ad-
vised the police that Eckwerth, the com-
pany’s panel truck, and about $300 in
estimated coffee cash receipts were con-

spicuously absent from the workaday
scene, A warrant was issued charging
Eckwerth with theft of the truck and
cash, and an alert was put out for the
missing salesman. Detective Captain
Joseph A. Dominico requested a police
files check on Edward Eckwerth, and
it was at this point that Eckwerth be-
came a hot suspect in the disappearance
of Rosemary Spezzo.

Eckwerth had a record of nine ar-
rests, the last for assault and larceny
against the crippled proprietor in the
Orange County motel, He was crimi-
nally inclined; he had been the last
person seen with Rosemary. Possibly
he had gone off on a romantic spree
with the girl, though her splendid repu-
tation refuted this theory. He might
just be a guy with a record who hap-
pened to speak to the wrong girl at the
wrong time—might know nothing what-
ever about her disappearance. But he
might, too, be responsible for the fact
that she had failed to come home safe-
ly.
Detectives were sent to the Purser
Place address, only to find that Eck-
werth had not returned and his wife
had gone with her baby to stay with
her parents. One other address, gleaned
from the police records, was located
in Mount Vernon. This was Eckwerth’s
home town, and it was to his relatives
that he had always turned for help. in
the past. It was possible that now—
whether guilty kidnaper or innocent fall
guy—Eckwerth might have sought as-
sistance from. his relatives ‘again. A
stake-out was placed on the Mount

Ned

stipes

Sittin te

apis sti

paint es Ta

ai Mises

api Minor eit

Vernon home.

Greater attention was focused on
Mount Vernon when a police patrol
found a panel truck abandoned at the
New Haven Railway station in that city.
It was identified as the truck belonging
to Eckwerth’s coffee company and was
returned to its rightful owner, thus can-
celing the auto theft warrant against
the missing salesman. The cash receipts,
still unaccounted for, remained as a
theft charge against Eckwerth.

Examination of the truck revealed no
indications of violence. What, exactly,
had happened? The answer could be
Eckwerth had driven to the railroad
station, and apparently taken a train.
Questioning at the busy station, how-
ever, turned up no information on the
salesman or on an attractive young
brunette who might have been accom-
panying him. Detectives quizzed the
girl’s friends and relatives on the pos-
sibility that she had eloped with Eck-
werth, All rejected this theory. Rose-
mary was a good girl; she would never
have done anything that wild. It now
came forth that the missing girl was
subject to attacks of amnesia. Twice
before she had suffered such attacks.
Not. having her insulin might have
brought one on this time.

Captain Dominico wasn’t sold on this
idea. “We have to accept the coinci-
dence that she had an attack at the
same time that Eckwerth decided to
chuck family and job, and drift. It
could be. But we need Eckwerth for
that coffee money theft, and we might
as well hold him until he clears himself.

It was fantastic, the coincidence, yet
all angles of it were backed by good
reasons. It could have happened that
way, They might be chasing a small-
time thief for kidnaping, or worse, just
because he had pulled his job at the
wrong time. Another angle now was
added to the baffling missing persons
ee salesman had disappear-
ed!

“This one is from New York,” De-
tective Maitre replied. “He dropped
out just about the same time Rosemary
Spezzo vanished. We've had a pick-up
order on him since the 25th.”

“What’s he sell?” Dominico asked.

“Insurance, His wife called and re-
ported him missing.”

An insurance salesman, a coffee route
man, a third-grade teacher. All missing.
A check of police records revealed
nothing on the insurance man, and to
the police the main job still was finding
Eckwerth—or Rosemary Spezzo.

Time is the element that gradually
pushes missing persons cases toward
more sinister crime—-murder, But the
time element shortly removed from
suspicion the missing insurance man.
He turned up at home, nursing a hang-
over, flat broke from an extended drink-
ing spree. He couldn’t recall much, but
questioned by police he definitely placed
himself out of the Rosemary Spezzo
case. He had been in another part of
the state. He provided witnesses who
confirmed this, and he was released.

A week passed, Two weeks, No sign
of Rosemary—and one typical word
from Eckwerth. A Yonkers merchant
revealed to police that a $20 check
cashed by Eckwerth on the day he
vanished had bounced back—phony.
Despite Eckwerth’s involvement in the
Spezzo case, he was sought officially on
only the theft charge and newspapers
had played the story up but briefly, and
only locally. The police pickup order
remained in effect on both,

On July 9th an automobile was stolen
nearly three thousand miles away from
Yonkers, New York—in Portland, Ore-
gon. State troopers were alerted to
watch for this auto, and on the 11th
it was spotted near Tillamook, Oregon,
after an officer chased a speeding car.
The driver had no registration for the
auto, claimed he had left it at home.

“This car was stolen two days ago,”
the trooper snapped. “Where’s your own
license?”

The form was handed over to the
officer. It was a license made out to
an Edward Eckwerth, of New York.

“You Eckwerth?”

“That's right,” the driver said smooth-
ly. “I tell you, officer, I bought this car
back East more than a month ago.”

“Okay,” the officer shrugged. “We'll
‘go into headquarters and check on it.
If it’s a mistake, you’re safe.”

HE man who was detained as Ed-

ward Eckwerth apparently had
much to fear. The car, shown to the
Portland owner who'd lost his, was
quickly identified as the stolen vehicle.
Eckwerth, booked for car theft, was
held in $5,000 bail. He advised police
he had only $5 on his person. They
advised him he’d have to sit in jail, in
Portland, until his case came to trial.

Justice moves slowly sometimes.
Court calendars are heavy these days.
Time in jail, for the accused car thief,
likewise was heavy. He sweated from
July to the middle of August, nearly a
month. He finally sat down with pencil
and paper and wrote a letter. It arrived
in Mount Vernon’s post office on Au-
gust 18th, and was quickly spotted by
a postal inspector, He recalled that a
police check had been placed on all
mail headed toward this Mount Vernon
address. He promptly contacted West-
chester District Attorney Joseph Gag-
liardi, The return address, “Multuno-
mah County Jail, Oregon,” led Gag-
liardi to call District Attorney William
Langley, of Portland. Gagliardi advised
Langley that Edward Eckwerth was
wanted in New York on a larceny war-
rant, and for questioning in connection
with the disappearance of Rosemary
Spezzo.

District Attorney Langley questioned
the prisoner on Monday morning, Au-
gust 21st. The man booked as Eckwerth
said he was Edward Eckwerth, and ad-
mitted guilt in the theft of $268 from
the Newark coffee company.

“What do you know about Rosemary
Spezzo?” Langley pressed.

Eckwerth paled. “I told the cops

back there what I know, Sure, I talked
with her that day last June when she
disappeared. And 1 gave her a lift in
the truck, But I dropped her off down-
town and never saw her again.”

“You left Yonkers in a hurry,” Lang-
ley said. “The day after she disap-
peared. You left a wife and child be-
hind, and you stole your company’s
money to get away from there. Why?”

“I have a long record, figure it out
from there,” Eckwerth said. “This girl
takes a powder or something happens
to her. So it’s my lousy luck I see her
that day. The cops look at my history
and they pin it all on me. I decided to
avoid all that. I got a train to New
York, a bus to Chicago, another bus to
Seattle.”

“You traveled alone?”

“No,” Eckwerth said, “There was a
girl, a school-teacher. I got friendly with
her. She was from Minnesota, headed
for Portland for some education meet-
ing. We decided to go together. We
stayed in motels in Spokane, Portland,
other towns. You can check back
through them. I wasn’t traveling with
that Spezzo girl.”

Langley assured Eckwerth the check
would be made. He obtained the name
of the Minnesota teacher and contacted
her through relatives. The girl at first
denied she had traveled as Eckwerth’s
companion, then she realized the
charges against him were serious and
admitted it was all just as the former
coffee salesman had said.

This information was flashed back to
Yonkers, to District Attorney Gagliardi,
He wasn't completely convinced that
Eckwerth was out of the picture. “His
girl friend alibis Eckwerth from the
time he ditched the truck, perhaps, to
the time he arrived in Portland. There's
still an open spot in his story—what
happened from the time he and Rose-
mary got into the truck until he ditched
it at the railroad station.

Gagliardi contacted Portland officials,
requesting that the auto theft charge
against the suspect on the West Coast
be dropped and extradition be granted
for the suspect’s larceny offense in
Yonkers. “He’s liable to a long ‘sentence
here because he’s got a previous record.
And we can also investigate him re-
garding the Spezzo case.”

Arrangements were made for extra-
dition, Eckwerth waived the official
Tequirements, and by _ ten-forty-five
Tuesday night, August 22nd, he was in
Westchester, undergoing interrogation
by Gagliardi and Captain Dominico.
He repeated the story he had told in
Portland, insisting he was innocent,

Charges against him for larceny and
fraudulent check writing held him in
Yonkers jail, however, with August 31st
set as the date for sentencing in the
check offense, which Eckwerth ad-
mitted.

He was taken, under heavy guard,
back over his trail from Yonkers to
New York City. He was asked to detail
his trip to Chicago, As the sleuths

(Continued on page 62)
70


Pw

The fantastic “DATE
AAKER.”’ The greatest de-
vice ever developed to get
all the girls you want.
Not. a club, group or lis?-
ing, but an instant acting, &
new novel device that turns
on girls beyond your wild-
est imagination.
Get intimate with girls you
have long admired. Ecstasy
will be yours when you
discover how girls are
willing to bend over back
wards to please you.
$3.00 each or (2 for $5.)
(No C.O.D.‘s)’ i Pr
GUARANTEED TO GET YOU A SWIN GAL
FIRST TRY OR YOUR MONEY REFUNDED.

ACTION PRODUCTS bert. pm-64
P.O. BOX 3245 GRANADA HILLS, CALIF. 91344

» |

SPANISH
GIRL PHoTos

& Delightful

Positions $1]
’ ROYAL- GMD-13
BOX 1548, POMPANO BEACH
FLORIDA, 33061

STAG BUYERS. GUIDE: 3 122
RARE UNIQUE UNUSUAL ITEMS:

CONFIDENTIAL UP-TO-DATE list of dealers in FRANCE,

SWEDEN. DENMARK, HOLLAND. SPAIN, AFRICA. INDIA,

ENGLAND, CANADA, U.S.A. who sell adult photos, books,

slides, movies, etc. includes 3 PROFUSELY illustrated

BROCHURES and CATALOG. For complete list & details
send $1.00 to K-M SERVICE Dept. G5

37 E. JEFFERSON DETROIT, MICH. 48214

ATISFY
YOUR WIFE

Is she frustrated because your climax comes too fast?
In Sex Harmony booklet a doctor tells @ how easy way
can help delay climax, prolong pleasure, satisfy wife;
she then thrills with sensations you evoke in her, de-
sires you more often @ importance of sex relations
@ health effects @ sex techniques @ love zones @ how
to make erect organ bigger, stiffer, harder @ how to
move it for clitoral arousal @ how to achieve mutual
fulfillment. Adults only. Just write ‘Send SH, I’m over
21’ and mail with only $1 (no CODs) for your reveal-
ing copy. Plain, sealed wrapper marked ‘Personal’.
10-day return privilege. Don’t miss it. Order NOW!
Frankwell Co.,Rm 67Q Box 120, Union City, N.J.07087

SUPER 8 MOVIES

If you own a super 8 movie projector,
write to
LANES, Box 332GB
Fort Lee, N. J. Must be over 21

PLAYING CARD:SIZE: 4 00”
CANDID PHOTOS: fier

AID
An uncensored set of 48 candid photos, (Play-
ing card size) original and unretouched, on
glossy paper, every pose sharp and Clear,
every position revealed in detail, as you
like them. Sent in sealed envelope. No sam-
ples, no checks, no C.O.D. orders. Rush
$1.00 cash or Money Order, for complete set.
TAMAR, 3 Orchard St. Dept. 58 N.Y. 2 NLY.

LINGERIE AND ART PHOTOS

NUDIST FILM
Send 25¢ For iilustrated Brochure

FAIRFAX SALES 8D-7
P.O. Box 4163 No. Hollywood, Cal.

62

WOULDN'T SAY "YES"
(Continued from page 19)

quizzed him, one or two minor items
in his various statements conflicted.
They returned him to Yonkers jail and
continued grilling him. By one P.M.,
Saturday, August 26th, Eckwerth had
entangled himself in a web of incon-
sistent statements. He was asked to. ex-
plain these, and he finally said, “I want
to see my wife and daughter!”

Detective. Hoffarth shrugged. “Do
they want to see you?”

“Let me see my wife and daughter,”
Eckwerth pleaded. “I'll show you where
the body lies!”

For two months the word police and
the girl’s relatives had feared had been
uttered. Body! “You mean Rosemary
Spezzo’s body?”

“Yes,” Eckwerth said. “Her body.”

Police officials gathered at the jail
to witness the statement Eckwerth was
willing to give in exchange for seeing
his family,

What they heard was a fantastic story
of how he had known Rosemary before.
He claimed he had met her on the aft-
ernoon of June 22nd and they had
driven around in the truck looking for
a private spot. He said that when they
found such a place things became un-
pleasant. They argued. He said he fi-
nally became angry and struck the girl
—punched her until she fell uncon-
scious.

“I suddenly decided I had to kill
her,” he admitted.

CKWERTH told police he dragged

the girl’s. unconscious form fifty
feet into a thicket of woods. He then
smashed her head with a large rock
until he was certain she was dead. He
took $26 from her purse, and hurled
the purse into the woods. When the
girl’s father had called at his apart-
ment, asking about Rosemary, Eckwerth
had realized he’d been seen with her.
He decided to steal the company money,
cash the worthless check, and try to
disappear,

A police car caravan drove out to an
isolated spot a quarter of a mile south
of Jackson Avenue, Greenburgh. Eck-
werth led police to a tree, where, in a
patch of bushes, lay the badly decom-
posed body of a young woman. Dr.
Victoria Bradess, medical examiner, ad-
vised that an autopsy would be required
to determine cause of death. A hunt
for the purse Eckwerth claimed he
threw away turned up a black handbag,
thirty yards from the corpse. It con-
tained a driver’s license and insurance
papers bearing the name of Rosemary
Spezzo. The story Eckwerth told of
murder was horribly true. The story he
told about other things could not have
been true by any stretch of the imagina-
tion. Rosemary Spezzo’s_ reputation
spoke loudly even in death. She had not
submitted to this fiend’s romantic de-
mands and had died fighting him off.

Eckwerth continued to repeat his fan-

tastic story about his relations with the
girl he admitted killing, but he fooled
no one. His purpose was clear. He was
seeking to fix a base for a defense—a
crime of passion—which would free
him of a first-degree murder charge
and the menace of the electric chair.
If he had killed the girl impulsively
during a scrap, it would not be charged
as premeditated or first-degree murder.
If he had killed her in the course of a
rape attempt it was clearly murder in
the first degree, the penalty for which
is death.

Before the grand jury on August
28th, Eckwerth was asked to change or
correct any lies he might have previ-
ously included in his statement. The
downcast suspect said, “It’s all over.
Why should I lie now? It is first-degree
murder. I’ll go to the electric chair.”

On February 5th, the twelve
jury members confirmed Eckwerth’s
prediction by finding him guilty as
charged—murder, first degree. The
Casanova who at last had met a girl
who refused to love him, despite the
menace of death, was slated for a
special date—in the Death House.

HOUSE OF GHOSTS
(Continued from page 29)

side. Besides, no One was seen around
the house after Peters came in.”
“Peters,” Childers put in. “Phil Peters

used to be a big shot in the railroad
offices . . . retired.”

Zarnow said, “It was pretty light
until just a little while ago and the
next door neighbor was working right
there in her kitchen window, looking
right at this window that was unlocked
all the time and she saw nothing.
Nobody else came to this side.”

“Then the killer must have sneaked
in earlier and waited for Peters to
come home,” Childers said: “But what
did he use to beat him up like this?”

He ignored two broken. canes lying
beside the body, a buckthorn and a frail
malacca. “The killer didn’t make those
wounds with these matchsticks,” he
scoffed.

“But these canes .. . they’re broken,”
Zarnow said. “Somebody was swinging
them.”

“Probably all the old man could find
to defend himself with,” Childers said.
“When we get the killer, we'll probably
find some fine cuts and scratches around

CANCER
SOCIETYEa

ART SE

dart pn ar

ial Ad Soci


Sn the CRIME

SPOTLIGHT

Latest Sensations in the

Crime Whirl and What the
Law Is Doing About Them

Gail Gilmore: His
hard luck and his
tattoo marks iden-
tify him for police

# 3
a
a
:
i
1
1
4

Mrs. Nellie Mills:
Shot because of
“man’s custom of
killing what he

John Benedetto:

of Mrs. Verna Garr Taylor, beau-

tiful_ and = socially prominent
widow of La Grange, Kentucky. Shot
through the heart, her body was found
in a roadside ditch. Nearby was a
stalled car belonging to Brigadier Gen-
eral Henry H. Denhardt, former Lieu-
tenant Governor of Kentucky. They
were said to be engaged to wed, and
they had been seen riding together just
before the tragedy. Denhardt’s re-
volver lay beside the body. The en-
tire State gasped when the General
was arrested and charged with the
crime. He strenuously denied guilt.

On a main street in Red Bank, New
Jersey, police discovered the cadaver
of Mrs. Nellie Mills, 28. A .25-caliber
bullet had pierced her right eye and
lodged in the brain. She had been
separated a week from her husband,
Ralph, a pressman on a local paper.
As officers closed in on Mills the next
day, he wrecked his car in a gully,
then blew out his brains. A rambling
two-page confession in his pocket
commented on “man’s old custom of
killing what he loves.”

Ignacio Zangara, 73, of Clifton, New
Jersey, quarreled perpetually with his
third wife, Frances, 63. The woman
refused to counter-sign for cash liens
on his property. When sounds of their
wrangling stopped suddenly even the

KK tits. of the fortnight was that

tY)

Alleged holdup man, death

police took notice. Zangara said he
did not know where his wife was. But
they dug up the front yard and. found
her body three feet underground, the
back of her head blasted away with a
load of buckshot. The man confessed.

Gail Gilmore, 31, a sailor, has the
words “hard luck” tattooed across
his knuckles. Each knuckle, except on
the thumbs, bears a_ single letter,
“hard” being on one hand and. “luck”
on the other. This trademark led
to his arrest in Baltimore, after he
had been sought for three months, on
suspicion of having murdered William
Moritz, 55, of Staten Island, New York,
owner of a fishing sloop.

FLEEING from a hold-up in Queens,

New York City, Anthony Garlaus
shot and killed Isaac Shean, who had
tried to halt him. The robber explained
his act as follows: “Twelve years ago, I
spared a man who begged me not to
shoot. He hollered, and the next thing
I knew I was thinking it over in Sing
Sing. I made a resolution that I’d
never give a sucker a break again. The
old guy (Shean) got in my way. I
tripped him up, and when he tried to
get up I said to myself, ‘I’m giving
this guy too much chance.’ So I
plugged him a couple of times, and
when he fell down I gave it to him

(Continued on Page 41)

came to him from the rear while he was in his car

Brigadier

General
Henry H. Denhardt:
Kentucky gasps
when he is accused
of killing his fiancee

Reid Russell: The
house guest of Au-
thor Morris found
dead. Pictured with
him‘ is a former
sweetheart, Lillian
Kearns

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES, January 1, 1937


a

The March of Crime (Continued from Page 33)

car in San Francisco blows up two
cars, injures several.

DOUBLE CROSS: St. Louis train
robbery solved when W. W. Height,
laborer, confesses he worked out plans
for robbery and confided them to
friends. Next he knew, train had
been robbed, according to his plans,
and he received $1,000 of $25,000 loot
from unknown sender through the
mail.

BRUTALITY: With thermometer
registering thirty degrees below zero
in St. Paul, Edward Meager, 30, stops
in dance hall to get warm. Drunken
dancers shoot him, tie him hand and
foot, carry him on open sleigh three
miles to abandoned house and leave
him to die on doorstep.

FAKER: Charles Talbot, posing as
near relative of Earl of Shrewsbury,
exposed as imposter who had swindled
Norfolk, Boston, Pittsburgh and New
York society people out of thousands.

2 Seger

Charles J. Dryden: Because he

liked green leather straps on his

wardrobe trunk detectives ar-
rested him as a swindler

PERSEVERANCE: Newspaper re-
porter of Richmond, Virginia, who
spent two years investigating “suicide”
of Fannie Lillian Madison, — pretty

young school-teacher, brings about ex-.

ecution of her cousin, T. J. Cluverius,
for seducing,and murdering her.

MURDER ATTEMPT: John Tobin,
Albion, Indiana, arrested for attempt-
ed wife murder after charge that dur-
ing quarrel he stabbed her, and when
she pleaded for mercy, knocked her
unconscious, carried her’ to railroad
tracks to be run over by express train.
She revived and crawled to safety as
train approached.

TRAIN ROBBERY: Gang of four
robbers tear up Santa Fe railroad
tracks near Albuquerque, New Mexico,
but passenger train expected was late;
it was preceded by freight train which
was wrecked. Railroad police and
posse trail robbers to canyon and in
gun. fight kill all four. ;

FEUD: Point Pleasant, Virginia,
farmer killed: by neighbor in quarrel
over boundary. Victim’s son, then
twelve, vows revenge. Three’ years
later, killer found shot to death in
woodlot where boy, now fifteen, was
hunting. No arrest.

The Month One Hundred Years Ago,
January, 1837

HEADLINES: Beware! A gang of

gamblers is known to be operating on
Delaware River boats . . . Antoinette
Cabalike of Cleveland kills three of her
children, wounds two more, then hangs
herself . .. Band of masked men bind
and torture Fritz Steinholtz of Houston,
Texas, and force him to reveal hid-
ing place of his life savings of $2,000.

SCOOP: The Galena, Illinois, Ad-
vertiser, enterprising newspaper, an-
nounces that Blackhawk, celebrated
Indian warrior, was drowned in Iowa
River while returning from signing a
peace treaty.

SUFFRAGE: Anne Smith, also

. known as “Crusty” Powell, arrested in

England for highway robbery after
holding up a’man, stealing his money
and clothing, and leaving him naked in
the road.

TRICK: John Stehr (pronounced
Steer) borrows $600 from a Kansas
money lender, giving a mortgage on

“five white steers,” ~which he claimed
to have on his farm near Des Moines,
Iowa. At expiration of mortgage,
lender demands stéers, and learns that
mortgage covered five Stehr sons.

SCOTCH: Thief convicted of steal-
ing herring barrel from Glasgow mer-
chant. Said the merchant, “He is a
rogue. He previously stole my sign-
board and then tried to sell it back to
me, saying that he thought it would
be of more use to me than anyone
else.” hs

HIGH FINANCE: Gilbert Hyatt,
fourteen, office boy, confesses stealing
$5,000 in small amounts from Wall
Street firm of Morgan, Ketchum & Co.
Names a “Fagin” who directed thefts.

eee

Marion Hunt: Did she kill her-
self because of unrequited love?

In the Crime Spotlight (Continued from Page 29)

again.” . .. Garlaus evidently won't
do much more thinking.

» Two gunmen were found dead in
cars, a week apart, in Chicago. Patsy
Dichiara, 20, had taken part in the
stick-up of the Pow Wow roadhouse,
where shots had been exchanged and
half a dozen persons wounded. His
body was parked in front of a hospital
. . . John Benedetto, 33, believed to
have been a member of the gang that
kidnaped John Cuneo and his wife a
few hours earlier and robbed them of
jewelry valued at $40,000, weltered at
the wheel of his auto, Saturday night,
November 14. He had been shot three
times from behind, and his hat,
clutched in his hand, bore two bullet
holes.

Working on fragmentary evidence,
New York City detectives questioned
Jacob Pesditsch, 38, about the death of
Charles Matuna, 26, found in a gutter
with three bullets in his head. Pes-
ditsch promptly admitted killing the
man, “because he was following me
and I didn’t like that. He was a devil
on earth. If I hadn’t killed him, he
would have got me.” But Pesditsch
was a former inmate of a lunatic asy-
lum, and the only motive for the crime
appeared to be recurrence of his mal-
ady.
Refused a bottle of soda to mix with
booze, Earl Blevins, 20, of Topeka,
Kansas, went to his home, got a small
shotgun and fatally wounded Harold
Martin, proprietor of a _ soft-drinks
cafe . . . In American Falls, Idaho,
Adolph Zetiltz signed a confession that

1)

he had killed his three children, all un-
der five, and burned the house to de-
stroy the bodies. “My wife is sick,
and we couldn’t get nobody to care for
them,” he explained apathetically ...
In Brooklyn, New York, James Sulli-
van, only 17, thanked the jury for con-
victing him of first-degree murder.
“What the hell, you couldn’t do any-
thing else! I did the job,” he grinned.
During a robbery he had beaten a
clothing store man to death with a
duck pin.

T= fortnight’s weirdest accusation

was made by Mrs. Charles Johnson,
83, of Los Angeles, after she had used
a razor to cut the throat of her hus-
band, aged 91. She wrote‘a note, then
hanged herself. The note read: “He
was being unfaithful to me. He had
been untrue to me all through our
married life—nearly sixty years. .The
last forty years he has been chasing
other women.”

Federal agents caught up with Reese
Bailey, known as “North Carolina’s No.
1 Desperado.” He had pulled a series
of bank robberies and had escaped
from the state penitentiary at Raleigh.
The Feds got him on a chicken farm
at Jackson, Ohio. He tried to shoot his
way out of the trap but was taken,
severely wounded.

Los Angeles police resume inquiry
into the mystery death of Reid Russell,
house guest of Gouveneur Morris, the
famous writer. On September 25,
Russell’s body had been found in a
lawn swing, a bullet hole in his head.

A revolver was in his lap, but neither
the bullet nor empty shell was dis-
covered. Mrs. Morris now admits that
she destroyed a “farewell note” left by
Russell.

New York City detectives solved the
murder of R. Walton Ford, furniture
salesman, strangled in his hotel room.
Walter Seymour and Harry J. Martin,
both 19, were picked up on the de-
scription furnished by hotel employes,
who had seen them enter the room
with Ford. They confessed to stealing
$41, after an orgy which ended with
their host’s death. Whisky bottles,
powderpuffs and flasks of perfume had
been found among the debris at the
scene of the crime.

Brooding over the fact that he had
let his 25-year-old bride believe, be-
fore they married, that he was finan-
cially well fixed, Thomas J. Kenna, 30,
of St. Louis, Missouri, shot her as they
sat in his parked car, then turned the
gun on himself. Though critically hurt,
Mrs. Kenna begged him not to kill
himself. “So I couldn’t finish it,” he
told police. “I love him, and I want
him back,” the woman moaned on her
hospital cot.

ALTER SHEVCHUCK, 26, ex-con-
vict, and Albert Lazenko, 25, ex-
pugilist, wounded each other with bul-
lets during a bitter fight. As they were
being rushed to Bellevue Hospital, New
York City, in the same ambulance,
they renewed the battle. Internes par-
ted them, barely in time to prevent a
double murder. 2

You Can't Beat

FACTS!

AND—

You Can't Beat
. THE

HIT SONG
of the WEEK

brought to you by

RADIO
GUIDE

as a regular feature
every week

Your

HIT SONG
IS A

NEW SONG
WRITTEN BY AN

Ace Bandleader!

IT'S IN

RADIO
GUIDE

THE NATIONAL
RADIO WEEKLY

41

TT RETR VEU OSS we ‘dd


Sue Fuller

CLUB MURDER OF THE
PRETTIEST GIRL IN TOWN

(TD April, 1955)

When he returned home from an early
morning walk to get the Sunday papers
on December 12th, 1954, Milton Fuller
found his wife, Sue, 25, dead in the bed-
room of their Brinkley, Arkansas, home.
Her head had been crushed by blows
from a club.

On Friday Billy Ray Willingham was
arrested in Forrest City, 25 miles east of
Brinkley and charged with the murder.
Following a 30-day observation period
at Arkansas State Mental Hospital, Wil-
lingham was ruled sane. During this pe-
riod two witnesses were found who
placed the falsely arrested Willingham
in Memphis, Tennessee, at the time of the
murder.

And on February 3rd, 1955, he was re-
leased by the prosecutor, who stated, “I
am convinced that Willingham is not
guilty.”

In an interview with TD correspond-
ent, James R. Holland, Billy said: ‘Some
Forrest City police got me and said I
killed the Fuller woman. I explained that
I didn’t even know her and had never
seen her. They took me to the jail and
called Brinkley police. While riding over
there, the officers cussed me and said I
killed the woman. I told them I was in
Memphis at the time. They slapped me,
started beating me over the head. I
didn’t bleed, but my head was swollen.
They grilled me for three straight days.

“That was the first time I was ever ar-
rested and I hope I don’t have to go
through that again.”

i lie

Report of latest legal developments

on cases published by TD

PENNSYLVANIA'S
HALLOWEEN HORROR

(TD February, 1955)

In two communities in western Penn-
sylvania, Halloween of 1954 is remem-
bered as a time of fear and horror. Helen
Jean Bryant, 16, left her home on a hill-
top in Aliquippa, near Pittsburgh, to go
to school—and disappeared. Little 6-
year-old Karen Mauk started out in the
late afternoon with her trick-or-treat
bag and vanished.

Karen’s body was found first, in the
brush beside a byroad near a cemetery,
her trick-or-treat bag spilling candy and
cookies into her curly hair. She had been
smothered.

Later, searchers discovered the body of
Helen Jean in a shallow grave 100 yards
from her home. Her head had been bru-
tally bludgeoned and her throat cut.

Helen’s younger sister told officers that
a man who lived down the hill from
their home had often frightened them as
they went to school. He was Elijah
Thompson, 23, whose father was a rail-
road brakeman.

Questioned by police, Thompson finally
confessed, “I done it—I don’t know
why.” He said he’d watched the sisters
every day as they went to school. “That
day, she was alone. I came up behind her,
hit her head with a rock.” Then, he said,
he cut her with the knife, then scooped
out a grave and covered her up.

In court Thompson pleaded guilty and
said he hoped the judge would sentence
him to death. And on January 20th, 1955,
Judge Morgan H. Sohn granted his wish
and sentenced him to the electric chair.

Helen Bryant

Harry Gossard, 39, former merchant-
seaman, picked up as a suspect in the
slaying of Karen Mauk, admitted that
he had lured the child into his car by
offering her money for her trick-or-treat
bag. He claimed that he had slipped and
fallen on her, that he had not meant to
hurt her.

Gossard pleaded guilty to a general
charge of murder and was ordered com-
mitted to Torrance State Hospital for
psychiatric examination,

"| DIDN'T LIKE THE PLACE"

(TD April, 1955)

On December 12th, 1954, the Yacht
Club Apartments, a 4-story brick and
wood structure on Water Street, Haver-
hill, Massachusetts, burned in a fire that
took the lives of five tenants. The fire
was determined to be of incendiary
origin.

Richard E. LaPlante, whose family
lived on the fourth floor of the building,
was held on charges of arson and man-
slaughter. At his trial in Essex County
Superior Court before Judge Horace T.
Cahill, a jury of 5 men and 7 women ex-
onerated LaPlante.

DEATH FOR $1
i (TD November, 1954)

On the evening of July 5th, 1954, How-
ard Englander, 29, an aircraft mechanic
and father of a 3-year-old child, went
surf-casting off Manhattan Beach. Ab-
sorbed in the sport, he was unaware of
two shadowy figures creeping up on him
in the darkness. Suddenly one of them
struck him on the head with a length of
lead pipe, then trussed him with his own
fishing line and threw him into the
water,

In the very early hours of July 6th
Ernest Lee Edwards, 23, a Philadelphia
hoodlum, and his companion, Richard P.
Connors, 24, driving north in the car they
had stolen from Englander, were ar-
rested when they stopped and attempted
to mug another man on Riverside Drive,
New York.

Connors revealed to police details of
Englander’s death and was granted a
separate trial on his promise to testify
against Edwards for the state. Still blood-
stained, the pipe with which the fisher-
man had been slain was found in the
car.

Englander’s body was found on July
llth some 40 miles from Manhattan
Beach, when the crew of a fishing boat
spotted it. An autopsy showed that the
victim had been struck at least a dozen
times with the lead pipe. Parts of his
skull were pulverized.

At Edwards’ trial before Judge Sam-

uel S. I
Connor:
to Cone
no luck
front, s

attack !

On S
1954, tt
found }
near Ne
been s}
bullet.

Ident
George
police
husba:
tuck
He wa
vertible
missing
plant
Friends
spoken
becomi:

On De
Texas.
elabo:
street
officers
lever;
quar

He

When

dead i:
commit?
toward
the wi
that the
fused ti
remarry.

Robert;

impriso:
WHE!

T

former
Klan
politics
the law
On t}
lured M
a busine
one
dia:
a State
with he
office ins
Stephe
forced MJ

merchant-
suspect in the
idimitted that
») his car by
trick-or-treat

i slipped and

t meant to

a general
vdered com-
Hospital for

1— PLACE"

the Yacht
brick and
. +t, Haver-
a fire that
. The fire
incendiary

se family

e building,

1 and man-
sex County
2¢ Horace T.
; women e@x-

R $1

154)

1954, How-
t mechanic
hild, went
Beach. Ab-
unaware of
eping up on him
nly one of them
with a length of
iim with his own
v him into the

yurs of July 6th
3, a Philadelphia
inion, Richard P.
th in the car they
ander, were ar-
ed and attempted
Riverside Drive,

police details of

was granted a
romise to testify
state. Still blood-
which the fisher-
vas found in the

is found on July
from Manhattan
of a fishing boat
showed that the
< at least a dozen
ipe. Parts of his

fore Judge Sam-

uel S. Leibowitz in Kings County Court
Connors revealed that the pair had gone
to Coney Island “to pick pockets.” Having
no luck, they strolled along the water-
front, spotted Englander and decided to
attack him. Edwards, Connors declared,
said, “I’m going to get this guy Virginia
style.” He also quoted Edwards as saying,
“The dirty cheap skate,” when he found
only $1 in Englander’s wallet.

An all-male blue-ribbon grand jury
returned a verdict of first-degree mur-
der against Ernest Lee Edwards, with no
recommendation for mercy, thus making
the death sentence mandatory.

E PHONY COWBOY
FROM CONNECTICUT

(TD March, 1955)

On Sunday afternoon, November 7th,
1954, the body of a young woman was
found in a shallow grave in the woods
near New Canaan, Connecticut. She had
been shot in the head with a .22 caliber
bullet.

Identified as Mrs. Margaret Ford
George, 26, of Waterbury, Connecticut,
police began to search for her former
husband, Stanley Zdonick, 37, of Nauga-
tuck, whom she had divorced in 1949.
He was said to drive a pale blue con-
vertible with scarlet fenders, and he was
missing from his home and from the
plant where he worked in Naugatuck.
Friends disclosed that he had often
spoken of returning to the Southwest and
becoming a cowboy.

On December 2nd, 1954, two El Paso,
Texas, patrolmen observed a man in an
elaborate cowboy costume loitering on a
street near the Rio Grande. One of the
officers commented, “A phony cowboy, if
I ever saw one.” They took him to head-
quarters for questioning.

He admitted that he was Zdonick, and
that he and Margaret had had some
drinks together on the night of Novem-
ber 1st. He had passed out, he declared.
When he came to, he found Margaret
dead in his car. Assuming that she had
committed suicide, he said, he had driven
toward New Canaan and left her body in
the woods. However, he also admitted
that they had quarreled because she re-
fused to divorce her second husband and
remarry him.

At his trial, in Waterbury, a jury
found him guilty of second-degree mur-
der in the death of Mrs. George. And on
January 13th, 1955, Judge J. Howard
Roberts sentenced Stanley Zdonick to life
imprisonment.

WHEN SUICIDE 1S HOMICIDE

(TD November, 1954)

In the early 1920s D. C. Stephenson,
former King Kleagle of the Ku Klux
Klan, was a powerful figure in Indiana
politics. He was fond of boasting, “I am
the law in Indiana.”

On the night of March 15th, 1925, he
lured Madge Oberholtzer to his home on
a business pretext. Madge, then 28, was
one of the most attractive girls in In-
dianapolis, Indiana. She was manager of
a state welfare agency and lived at home
with her parents. Her father was a post
office inspector.

Stephenson and two of his henchmen
forced Madge into his car and drove her

to Hammond, Indiana. In a hotel suite
there he viciously attacked and raped
her. The next morning he permitted her,
guarded by one of his men, to go to a
drugstore. There she surreptitiously
bought a poison, which she swallowed as
soon as she was brought back to the
hotel.

Alarmed at her condition, Stephenson
had her taken home. On April 14th
Madge died, after dictating before wit-
nesses a statement revealing all that had
happened to her.

Stephenson was tried and sentenced to
life imprisonment, when Madge’s doc-
tors testified that she could not have sur-
vived the wounds suffered in the vicious
sex attack.

Paroled in 1950, he violated his parole
and was returned to prison. On December
22nd, 1954, the state prison parole board
voted in a 3-to-2 split decision to give
Stephenson his freedom, on the condition
that he submit a parole program showing
a sponsor and a job, and have it ap-
proved,

THE ANONYMOUS CORPSE

(TD August, 1954)

When a foot locker, abandoned on a
station platform in Sharon Hill, a suburb
of Philadelphia, was opened by the po-
lice, it was found to contain dismem-
bered parts of a human body wrapped in
plastic and covered with lime. The head
was in a pasteboard box. On the box was
penciled the name, ‘‘Ballem.”

Search of directories revealed one
Francis X. Ballem living in Bywood,
near Upper Darby. Officers went to the
house. In an unfinished attic room they
found Ballem. Beside him lay a pistol
and a suitcase. In the suitcase were two
human legs wrapped in plastic.

Ballem at once admitted killing a man
he knew only as John, whom he said he
had met in a bar and had taken to his
home. He declared that he had shot John
in self-defense.

The victim was presently identified as
John Diporak, 30, a merchant seaman,
formerly in the air force. His family
lived in Chester, Pennsylvania.

Arrested and arraigned on May 4th,

Richard Jensen at 14

1954, on a charge of murder, Ballem ap-
peared unperturbed. He was still impas-
sive and apparently indifferent when he
was, brought into the courtroom at Media
to hear the verdict, after a trial which
had lasted 16 days.

The jury, after deliberating for six
and one-half hours, convicted Francis X.
Ballem of first-degree murder and recom-
mended death in the electric chair.

CASE HISTORY OF A
HOMICIDAL MANIAC

(TD February, 1954)

On the night of October 3rd, 1953,
Marine Sergeant Marion L. Piper, 21,
crawled to the door of a lodge in the
Tehachapi Mountains north ot Los An-
geles. He was naked, bleeding from
gashes in his head and a bullet wound
in his chest. He said he had hitched a
ride in a Pontiae car going toward Bak-
ersfield. Suddenly the driver slugged,
shot, robbed him and took his clothes.

Seven minutes later two State High-
way patrolmen stopped a Pontiac on
U. S. Highway 99. The car and the
driver, who proved to be John Rich-
ard Jensen, 28, were stained with blood.
When Piper’s wallet, watch ana dog tags
were found in the car, Jensen admitted
the murderous assault.

From the age of 11 Dickie Jensen had
a record of arrests and terms in Juve-
nile institutions. On August 22nd, 1939,
when he was 14, he stabbed to death
13-year-old Billy Williams. After ex-
tensive examination Dickie was ad-
judged a psychopathic delinguent and
ordered confined in a state hospital.

In May, 1951, released as rehabili-
tated, Jensen returned to his family
home, got a job with an automobile
parts firm. Apparently, however. his
murderous impulses persisted. After his
arrest for the attack on Sergeant Piper,
Jensen confessed to killing another

hitchhiker, Roger Lawson, in Ventura
County, September 13th, 1953.

Convicted of kidnaping under Califor-
nia’s “Little Lindbergh Law,” on March
17th, 1954, John Richard Jensen died in
San Quentin’s lethal gas chamber on
February 11th, 1955.

Richard Jensen at 28

~

my Rip

News Syndicate, Inc., from Acme :
yf ‘ a

Crim & DERI

eign of terror reached a bloody
climax in the neighborhood of one of the busiest
shopping streets in the world, New York’s
crowded Fifth Ave., on the morning of January

14, 1941, with the death of a patrolman and a
civilian and the wounding of a bandit and two
bystanders.
The mad melodrama began on E. 34th St., just
off Fifth Ave., when two swarthy men pushed their
way into an elevator with Alfred Klausman, 55,
general manager of a linen firm in the building.
The men, William Esposito (1) 29, and his 35-year-
old brother Anthony (2), ordered Klausman to
surrender the firm’s $649 payroll which he had just
drawn from a bank in the nearby Empire State
Building. Klausman, according to elevator operator
George Grebe, who had his back turned, yelled
“No!” As Grebe looked around, he saw one of the
pair put a gun to Klausman’s head and fire. They
grabbed the money from Klausman’s pocket as he
fell dead (3) shouting to Grebe to send his cage

TWO-MAN r

5 Daily News Syndicate, Inc., from
2

APRIL, ZI4L

wea


OSEPH A. WOODS. Aliases, Landon,

Flynn. Violation Narcotic Laws. Re-
‘vard: True Detective, $100. Age, 35;
height, 5 feet, 10 inches; weight, 178
pounds; hair, chestnut, graying; eyes,
brown: complexion, florid. Tattoo of a
horse-shoe on left forearm and of a ship
on left forearm inner. Occupation, bar-
tender. Jf located, wire Commissioner
H. J. Anslinger, Bureau of Narcotics,
Treasury Department, Washington. D.C.

15 M 1T II 5

F. P. C.
M 1 R Ii

ANIEL RHODES. Criminal Assault.
Reward: True Derective, $100. Age,
29; height, 5 feet, 6 inches; weight, 138
pounds; hair, brown, gray temples; eyes,
blue; medium build; complexion, sallow.
Occupation, engineer. _/f located, wire
Chief of Police Arthur Rosso, Department

of Police, Mount Clemens, Michigan.

(2) 1 Ur OL 9

F. P. C.

17 U OF 12

EV. HERBERT F. HARRIS. Grand

Theft. Reward: True DeTEcTIVvE,
$100. Age, 40; height, 5 feet, 10 inches;
weight, 200 pounds; hair, black; dark coffee
complexion; flat nose. Speaks good Eng-
lish. May be found associated with col-
ored Spiritualist ministers. [f located, wire
Captain Edgar Edwards, Bunco Detail,
Police Department, Los Angeles, Calif.

1 U

Wl 5
F. P. C. -————————_-
1 U Ill 3

ENJAMIN ERTLE. Murder. Re-

ward: True Derective, $100. Age,
24; height, 5 feet, 3 inches; weight, 140
pounds; hair, medium chestnut; eyes,
blue; freckles under eyes; stocky build.
Frequents Social Clubs where dances are
held and prizes are awarded for dancing.
If located, wire Detective Division, Police
Department, New York City.

THE LINE-UP IS A FREE PUBLIC SERVICE

Five dollars is paid for each photograph used me
d police circular photos CANNOT be used. Send only original

cuts, newspaper photos an

photo. or copy of original. When sending in photo fe , , t
th, rewards, occupation, age, weight, height, color of hair,
personal characteristics, date photo was taken, date and

aliases, name of crime charged wi
complexion, all distinguishing marks,

place of escape, fingerprint classification, criminal record, if any, an a
No photos will be used except those authenticated

of the officer who wants the fugitive.

from official sources. Photos of fugitives who have

such as murder or armed assault, are preferable,

forty-six captures have been made to date,

in Tue Lrxz-Ur. “Screen” photos, metal

o for the Lrxe-Up, give fugitive’s name,

d the name and address

been charged with the more serious crimes
but all are considered. One hundred and

including eighty-nine murderers.

More than 2,000,000 persons will read this issue.

IMPORTANT NOTICE

Readers of True Detective Mysteries possessing authentic in
our Lixz-UP are urgently requested to FIRST—Communicate wi
where the fugitive may be located. SECOND—Advise us IMMEDIATEL
through Tue Line-Up. Where authorities are notified by letter or wire, sen

True DETECTIVE MysTER1ES, Chanin Building, 122 E. 42nd St., New York City.

It is essential that we be notified the moment that direct a
marked within 3 days after the hour the fugitive hi
officers who effect the capture of fugitives wanted by

True Detective reward offers are effective up
payable to the person who first identifies the fugitive, prior to

as been

man appearing in THe Lrinz-Ur and gives the tip which leads to his capture.

True DETECTIVE reserves the right of final dec

ision in determining w

the claimant to the reward is sufficiently clear and conclusive.

Total rewards this month, $800.

formation concerning any fugitive pictured in
th their local police or the police in the city
Y upon identification of the fugitive
d copy of same to Line-Up Editor,

ction is taken. Application for reward must be_post-
positively identified through THE Line-Up. (Police
their own departments are not eligible for Line-Up rewards.)
to six months after publication of photo and the reward is
his arrest, from the photograph of the wanted

hether or not the evidence submitted by

ee eee

e 1939

LO
wef
Be
e

On6T/z

((M%IOX MO Su 2 °
( N) 2UTg 2utg *oetTe feqtum *(,fuUeg eTIITT,,) UTWefuag

While in the attic looking over a collec-
tion of 32 expensive fur coats, Chief
Hammond asked Johnson, “What about
the diamonds and jewelry?”

From the oven of the kitchen stove,
Johnson produced an assortment of
jewels worth approximately $40,000. An-
other hoard of about $10,000 in value was
found in a syrup can under the ladder
leading to the attic.

Eight police cars and trucks were
needed to transport the huge pile of stolen
merchandise back to headquarters.

The prisoner had dropped much of his
reticence by this time and without further
ado gave us some details to work on.

“IT told you my name is Fred Johnson,”
he said calmly, “so you may as well jot
down my middle initial. It’s V, standing
for Vernon. I’m a native of Rhode
Island. JT served overseas in the World
War and was honorably discharged from
the army in September, 1919, with the
rank of captain. I used my government
war bonus to start rebuilding the garage

apartment we just came from. I robbed
to furnish the apartment.”

A wire to the War Department in
Washington brought contitmrmation of
Johnson's statements about war service.

A more thorough search of Johnson's
apartment the morning after his arrest
uncovered letters written by lis superior
officers in praise of the valor he had dis-
played in the front-line trenches with the
A.E.F.

One of the letters, dated during his
service with the army of occupation in
Germany a few months before his dis-
charge, commended Capt. Johnson as “a
good executive of proper moral, mental,
physical and professional qualifications
to render his retention as a commanding
officer in the army valuable.”

Other papers found in the apartment
revealed that Johnson also had taken part
in the army’s pursuit of Pancho Villa in
Mexico in 1916.

But the Capt. Johnson we had in
custody had turned mean to the core.

DEATH CHAIR AWAITS HIM

9

« ae ub

Benny Ertel, one of seven boys from New York’s East Side who were convicted of

killing a detective during a candy store stickup in 1937, tries to out-grin Fate as he

sits in a Sing Sing prison-bound train. Benny is the fourth of the seven to get the
chair. His bride tipped police.

58

Kxcept to bray about how clever he had
been in “casing” homes, he flatly refused
to give any details of his robberies that
would help ous in returning: the loot to ats
rightful owners,

“That’s your worry,” he repeatedly re-
minded us,

Johnson was 45 years old; six feet, one
inch tall; weighed 168 pounds; had blue
eyes, medium chestnut hair and a ruddy
complexion.

The description given by Night Watch-
man Coleman tallied almost perfectly.
Furthermore, the car in which Johnson
had been arrested was a 1939 model Ford
V-8 coach, painted gray.

Much to our surprise, Johnson loosened
his tongue for a change and made a de-
tailed statement admitting the Coleman
shooting. His confession differed in
detail fron: Coleman's version of the
attack only in its vain wording, obviously
an effort to minimize the cold-blooded-
ness of the crime.

In addition to the amazing collection
of stolen goods in Johnson's apartment
we found a file of more than 300 news-
paper clippings. They told of costly
homes ereeted for Houstonians, weddings
of wealthy citizens and other social
events, especially those having to do with
plans of families to leave the city for given
periods.

A braggart at heart, Johnson was not
hesitant about singing his own praise.

“Of course I made use of those
clippings,” he gloated. “They told me of
the movements of the wealthy families
whose homes [ planned to loot. When I
read that a family was out of town or
attending some function on a given night,
I made a point of calling at their house.
Really, it was quite simple!

“I’ve studied some homes for more
than a year,” he continued with evil satis-
faction, “and by the time I was ready to
go to work on inost of them, I could tell
you how to set your clock by the move-
ments and habits of the various
occupants.

“The homes of Mayor Holcombe and
Chief Brown were on my list of pros-
pects. I started planning to take the
Mayor’s home before the last election.
But he became ill soon after the election
and there were so many of his friends
and relatives around the place that I had
to give up my plans for the time being.
I had planned to get around to Chief
Brown’s home shortly.”

Regarding his fancy for taking silver-
ware, Johnson explained:

“T believed I could find a good market
for it because I thought it would be hard
to identify. But I was able to sell only
a very little of it, and then only to in-
dividuals who had no idea it had been
stolen. I preferred to keep the rest rather
than sell it for practically nothing. That's
why there was so much silver stored in
my house.

“Those diamonds,” he added, “were
too hot. 1 know just as well as you do
that the tools used in cutting them leave
marks that can be identified and traced
almost as casily as fingerprints. When
I was arrested I had almost made up my
mind to take all the diamonds and throw
them in the bayou.”

Within an hour after stories of the
capture of the Society Burglar appeared
on the front pages of Houston news-
papers, the police department found itself
confronted with a stupendous problem
alien to any it ever had had to cope with

Houstonians by the scores began
phoning and making visits to head-
quarters in efforts to identify and recover

TTL 4 Cilatian-

= / 96

+t
~

the valuat!
Mayor Hi
held a long
was decided
floor of the
inventory ¢
could be ta
Floyd was |
half-dozen «
In the me
chief clerk
had complet:
third of all
in Houston
and-one-hal:
the Society
revealed th
arrest of Jc
value than
during the :
Upon ft:
checking hi
career ol

“Thirty-f
mused. "1
avenue, Sh
where Zacc

What
stolen?”

Already |
scanning th
he found th
hack driver.
street and
three gunm

“L took t!
remembered
hack license
him keep it.

Detective
minutes be
the ‘station |
blocks from

Hurrying
encountere:
as he was b
They searc’
felt hat int

The I4th
of the homi
convictions
cab had pla
murder.

Miller an
address ot
by Martin
Anselmi, th
car and sj
cabbie was
tives plunge
him withou

“Yours?”
holding thy
drowsy eve

“Yes,” the
got my init
Where'd v:

“From t!
Miller said
was used ):
know wha
Better give
movements
house.”

The tax:
not fazed
officers.

“Direethy


| CRIME Wha, 91 ft Be
‘ oF , ; f |
CAL ) / - 4

along a little-travelled country road.

“Yes—she was in the front seat of a
small truck. When it passed my stand
Evelyn waved to me and I waved
back. I thought that because of the
sudden chilliness she’d taken a lift,
but it never occurred to me to watch
to see if she got out at her house down
the road.”

“Did you recognize the truck? The
driver?”

“Well . . .’ Miss Hallock hesitated.
“I’ve seen it drive by here before, but
I don’t know to whom it belonged.
It’s a brown truck and in the rear is
a large spool of wire. I’ve never
noticed the driver at all.”

“And you say Evelyn smiled and
waved to you—didn’t show any trace
of fear or alarm?”

“Oh, no. It must have been some
friend of hers. She certainly isn’t the
kind of girl to allow strangers to pick
her up.”

Inspector Cosart was genuinely
puzzled. Already the alarm had been

sent out and residents for miles .

around had volunteered their services.
Surely, he thought, if any innocent
person had picked the girl up that
day he would have come forward to
tell his story.

Miss Hallock’s information could
mean one thing only. Before the
mystery. of ore Reed’s disappear-
ance could be solved he must find the
driver of that truck. The spool of wire
would mean either a telegraph or
power company lineman; or possibly a
farmer out fixing fence lines, Cosart
figured.

Working with Inspector Eugene F.
Hoyt, veteran Criminal Identification
Bureau official from Batavia, Cosart
started making a canvass of the en-
tire neighborhood. For four days their
investigations were carried on in
deepest secrecy, and now, as he sat
summing up his material he waited
only for the expected message from
those men out there searching. He
eed little doubt as to what they would

na,

BxD while the inspector sat there
waiting, two young CCC lads
from the White Hollow Camp were
painstakingly tracing the tracks left
in a grain field fifteen miles south the
day before by a man rushing madly
for cover.

“You can see where he turned and
started to run when Van’s plane came
close over him,” said Lester Ramsey
to his fellow enrollee, Walter Ciesle-
wicz, pointing to deep marks left
where a man’s heels had scooped up
the soft damp earth.

The boys followed those tracks, saw
them gradually become dimmer as the
ground turned -hard, then disappear
altogether at the edge of the woods.

“We'll try to cover the land under
the trees for a hundred yards north,
south and west of the point where he
entered,” young Ramsey decided.

For two hours the youths continued
their search, climbing over fallen
logs, peering sharply down into deep
ravines and behind boulders and tree
stumps.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 53

Suddenly Ramsey stopped dead in
his tracks. A moment later his hys-
terical voice reached Cieslewicz.

“Walt! Come quick!”

The other lad ran up and the two
stood frozen in horror as their eyes

;
;
if

Benny Ertel, en route to the electric chair at Sing Sing for his part in

HEADED FOR

young body. Over the entire body
were great bruises and sharp, short
cuts such as might have been left by
cruel, long fingernails. On the left
side of the face was a deep wound.
Whether that wound was left by a

CHAIR

the slaying of a detective in an East Side, New York City, candy store
in 1937. His bride is reported to have turned him in to the police.

fastened to a heap of clothing on the
ground not ten feet in front of them.
Beneath that clothing they knew what
they should find.

When, ‘half an hour later, other
searchers joined them at the spot, the
badly beaten body of Evelyn Reed
was uncovered. She still wore the

bright plaid jacket she had on when
last seen alive almost a week before.
But now it was torn and blood-spat-
tered. The pale green skirt had been
ripped entirely off and thrown back
over the naked lower portions of her

bullet or some thin stiletto-like in-
strument would only be known after
a medical examination.

When Inspectors Cosart and Hoyt
received the news they rushed out to
the scene with Dr. James J. Sanford,
Steuben County Coroner. Before their
arrival, however, State ns fol-
lowed a tiny path down a gu ly lead-
ing from the scene of the boys’ grisly
find toward the roadway paralleling
the lake.

Soon the troopers came upon a
small shack, concealed by a great

THE MAD RAPIST =


ANTHONY AND WILLIAM ESPOSITO = Continuede
One brother lodged currently in jail. Their mother was a deting,
shiftless woman who had abetted from boyhood their hatred of the
pélice and of law, In a prison ward, recovering from ttieir wounds
the Espositos cursed, raged and wept in explosive orgies of self
pitye As officials moved to bring them to aus ok trial, they
abruptly turned mute, stared blankly when people asked questions,
hummed tunelesslye It was evident insanity would be their plea,"
Captions underneath photographs; (1) "Anthony Esposito, 35 years
old; William Esposito, 28 years olde" (2) "Victim Noe 1: Alfred
Klausmann, the office manager of a linen house. The Espositos prom:
ly blew out his brains in an elevator, when he refused to surrender
his firm's payroal of $649." (3) "Victim Noe 2: Fatgolman Eddie
Maher, 52-year-old veteran, he had served the force 28 years, was
putting his son through Holy Cross. Police gave him an Inspector's
funerale*® (3) "Victim Noe 3: Leonard Weisburg, heroic taxi driverg
Trying to save his friend, Maher, he was shot in throat, hovered
near death, is now recoveringe A cab company is giving him new carn
(5) "Crowds converge on bat&tefield....civilians maul wounded mur-
derer William Espositoe..ea passerby holds one of Esposito's gunse"
(6) "Murder; William Esposito. Here angry civilians hold him while
police pursue his brother, Anthonye Shot in leg by Maher, William
played possum, killed policeman, wounded taxi drivere" (7) "Murderer
Antohny Esposito, who fled across Fifth Avenue, is led back to his
wounded brothere He was captured in a §feand-l0¢ storee Women swung
at him with their handbags as he passed," (8) #Esposito arsenal
consisted of six revolvers, 115 bullets.e...Bullets are deadly "wad-~-
cutters! similar in effect to dum dumse" (9) "Battered and bloody,

William Esposito lies in sidewalk outside Altman's department store
—_$5 —

ANTHONY AND WILLIAM ESPOSITO - Continued,

Pedestrians and passersby, outraged by the crime, kicked and beat

9

him into unconsciousnesses"*
LIFE MAGAZINE»)- Jane 27, 1941 Pages 28=29.6

tine

ESPOSITO Brothers, elec. Sing Sing (New York) 3-12-19h2,

AMA ZING DETHUTIVE MAGAZINE, April, 191

COP-RILLERS
on FIFTH AVENUE

AN AMAZING DETECTIVE CASES PHOTO FEATURE

ATTLE, murder and sud-
den death, more spectacu-

lar than any conjured by writers
of fiction, took place January
14, 1941, on the sidewalks of
Fifth Avenue and 34th Street,
in the heart of the crowded
shopping section, following a
holdup in an elevator of a build-
ing in 34th Street. When the
smoke of battle had cleared,
two men, one a policeman and
one a civilian, were dead, three
were wounded and two payroll
bandits, one of them seriously
wounded, were in custody. The
lens of a camera following the

daylight horror here record

the dramatic phases of the
gunfight.

e, Real 8 _
, i
sin? Te

PATROLMAN FRANK MEYER, who was on traffic duty, draws his revolver and rushes
toward the building to investigate the shots which killed Alfred Klausman, 55, who was
shot to death in the building elevator by the two bandits while protecting his payroll.

GEORGE BAXTER, doorman for Altman’s department store, leans A few seconds after Patrolman Maher had rushed in to investigate,

over the inert form of William Esposito,

23, the bandit shot by he lay in death (background) beside the bandit next to him. In

Patrolman Maher and who in turn killed Maher. Cab drivers foreground sprawls the form of Leonard Weisberg, cab driver, struck

and spectators who picked up guns abandoned in the battle form
aground the doorman and the wounded bandit.

down by bullets. Patrolman Maher had shot William Esposito, and
was leaning over him when Esposito turned and shot him,

|
|
|

As the startled spectators gather, futile attempts are made to aid
Patrolman Maher. In the background can be seen the inert form of
the wounded bandit.

Another patrolman, gun drawn, stands over the form of the wounded
bandit, while George Baxter, the Altman’s doorman, still clings to
the foot of the downed thug.

Copyright, 1941, by News Syndicate Co., Inc., from Acme News Pictures

\l

While a patrolman leans over the form of Leonard Weisberg, the
wounded taxi driver, other policemen lead the second bandit, Anthony
Esposito, away from the scene of the crime.

Policeman drag away the second bandit, Anthony Esposito, 27,

after cornering him in a Woolworth five and dime store. The

pursuing policemen had to hold their fire in the store for fear of

killing people in the aisles. The bandit was tackled by a policeman
and subdued after a fierce battle.


Sena, sete ar aan y nein Ange Maem neo +

started to scream in panic.

“She grabbed a wrench, one of seve-
ral on the floor boards, and struck at
me. I warded off the blow and grabbed
the wrench and hit her somewhere in
the head and she slumped to the floor.
I don’t know how many times I hit her.

“I drove back towards Seney. Seeing
a side road, I turned off and removed
her body into a group of trees. I drove
towards Munising and threw the wrench
out of the window as I drove. Also her
suitcase. I threw the floor mat out and
tried to wipe off the blood on the car
with her clothing still left in the car.
I threw the clothing out and left for
Detroit.”

This signed confession, however, did
not jibe with earlier oral stories told
by Lundberg. Earlier, he had stated
that he reached for the wrench after
Patricia started to scream, and that he
had pulled the girl over to him instead
of her moving close willingly. School-
craft County Prosecutor William J.
Sheehan was ‘aware of Lundberg’s pri-
son reputation as a stir lawyer, and
realized that the discrepancies between
the signed statement and the oral state-
ment was probably the result of Lund-
berg’s crafty legal knowledge—he later
was trying to make it appear that the
victim had led him on, then struck
him unexpectedly with the wrench and
he had hit back in self-defense.

“Don’t forget,” Sheahan told the de-
tectives, “this man has served a lot of
time in jail all but five years of his
adult life. He’s a pretty cool and col-
lected person. He bragged to us that he

had studied a lot of law while in jail.”

HE victim’s mother, recovering
from the shock of her girl’s death
after the days of suspensetul waiting,
struck out at the signed statement made
by the killer. “I’m sure Patricia didn’t
know the man before. She never said
anything to me about him, and she
wouldn’t have anything to do with an
ex-convict. I know she didn’t get into
his car voluntarily. She must have been
slugged or beaten beforehand, and
forced or dragged into the car. She
always told me she never got into a
car when there was only one man in
it, andunless she knew the people.
The report on the autopsy by Dr.
Arthur Amolosch verified that Patricia
Burdick had been the victim of a sav-
age bludgeoning. The back of her skull
was crushed in from repeated heavy
blows from the wrench. The patholo-
gist’s report also stated that there was
no evidence of rape.

The police search parties, under the
direction of the slayer, recovered the
bloodstained auto floor mat, wrapped in
the victim’s sweater. They searched for
the missing suitcase and the murder
wrench, in locations which the killer
was less definite about. -

Tall, thin and pale, with brown eyes
and hair, Lundberg stood manacled
between Sergeant Spratto and Corporal
Zeni on Thursday, April 26th, in Jus-
tice Court at Manistique as Justice

Edward J. Doyle read the warrant “¥s-\v.

sued on the recommendation of Prosé-

cutor William J. Sheehan.
“What degree is this, first or second?”

Lundberg whispered to _ Sergeant
Spratto.
Prosecutor Sheahan, overhearing

this, said crisply: “It’s first degree, but
it will be up to the court and jury to
determine the degree.”

The wily jailhouse lawyer frowned
and demanded, “How can it be first
degree without premeditation? There’s
nothing premeditated.”

Justice Doyle hammered for order
and completed the reading of the war-
rant. He then asked Lundberg if he
wanted an examination, but the ex-con
waived examination, and was remanded
to the county jail at Manistique without
bail to await the action of the Circuit
Court. f

Arrangements were made to hold
Lundberg in the hospital section of the
Marquette County jail. However, be-
cause of his suicide attempt the State
Corrections Department soon transfer-
red him to the quarantine section of
Marquette Prison to await trial.

Charged with murder in the first de-
gree, Leonard Lundberg was put on
trial in Schoolcraft County Court in
Manistique, Michigan, on June 19th.
Found guilty, the prisoner was sen-
tenced to life imprisonment in Mar-
quette State Prison on June 20th, 1956,
by Judge Richard W. Nebel, who made
this stipulation: “in solitary confinement
and at hard labor whenever possible.” ¢

Editor's Note: The names Sam Cline
and John Slater Marcum are fictitious.

THE RAPIST WAS STRONGER
(Continued from page 38)

in here yesterday afternoon.”

Maitre and Hoffarth were stumped.
“Maybe she had a dizzy spell—some
faintness or something from her dia-
betes,” Maitre theorized. “We could
check at the drug store where she
usually bought insulin. She might have
needed some and gone there first, in-
stead of going to the bank.” .

The two sleuths headed for the drug
store. But there they learned Rosemary
had not been in. There was just one lead
left—Edward Eckwerth. They drove to
Purser Place to question the young
salesman. Eckwerth, his wife told them,
was out on his coffee sales route. He
had left early that morning, before she
was out of bed. No, she could never say
exactly where he’d be at any given hour
of the day. ,

“Well, have him call headquarters
when he comes home,” Maitre asked.

AITRE and Hoffarth waited at
Yonkers Detective Bureau. By
that night, June 23rd, they received no
call from Eckwerth. They checked at his
home the following day. He still had

44

not returned home. He was always run-
ning around with women, the sleuths
learned. It was possible he had stayed
overnight with some girl friend.

“He’s not delivering coffee,” Hoffarth
said. ‘““That’s for sure.”

Eckwerth did not show up by the
25th. Now his employer, operator of
a coffee firm in Newark, New Jersey,
came to Yonkers headquarters and ad-
vised the police that Eckwerth, the com-
pany’s panel truck, and about $300 in

estimated coffee cash receipts were con-

spicuously absent from the workaday
scene. A warrant was issued charging
Eckwerth with theft of the truck and
cash, and an alert was put out for the
missing salesman. Detective Captain
Joseph A. Dominico requested a police
files check on Edward Eckwerth, and
it was at this point that Eckwerth be-
came a hot suspect in the disappearance
of Rosemary Spezzo.

Eckwerth had a record of nine ar-
rests, the last for assault and larceny
against the crippled proprietor in the
Orange County motel. He was crimi-
nally inclined; he had been the last
person seen with Rosemary. Possibly,
he had gone off on a romantic. spree
with the girl, though her splendid repu-
tation refuted this theory. He might
just be a guy with a record who hap-

pened to speak to the wrong girl at the
wrong time—might know nothing what-
ever about her disappearance. But he
might, too, be responsible for the fact
egy she had failed to come home safe-
y-
Detectives were~+sent to the Purser
Place address, only to find that Eck-
werth had not returned and his wife
had gone with her baby to stay with
her parents. She was through with the
two-timing husband. One other address,
gleaned from the police records, was
located in Mount Vernon. This was
Eckwerth’s home town, and it was to
his relatives that he had always turned
for help in the past. It was possible that
now—whether guilty kidnaper or inno-
cent fall guy—Eckwerth might have
sought assistance from his relatives

‘again. A stake-out was placed on the

Mount Vernon home.

Greater attention was focused on
Mount Vernon when a police patrol
found a panel truck abandoned at the
New Haven Railway station in that city.
It was identified as the truck belonging

to Eckwerth’s coffee company and was ~

returned to its rightful owner, thus can-

celing the auto theft warrant against .
the missing salesman. The cash receipts, . =
still unaccounted for, remained as a 7

theft charge against Eckwerth.

dative ais 5: 3

ee
na <

4 , sa
PF ET ek

TARO
a 2s

eR ite :

Soba oe

ay, eee

ing a Sl Sy eis Sot Ap FRI a A lah lac Race he

Tedevc plranntic eet «ee pee


Sinemet

re

emit lt ne

» ed ne oe 8
iis mM. cn cen IA ONIN FN sein tgs ents os

ee

The sullen suspect (r.) disappeared at the same time as the victim and had a lot to answer for when finally located.

chewing gum. The dark Italian beauty of the petite brunette
set his eyes gleaming. He had seen her around the neighbor-
hood before, had gained a casual acquaintance. Now he
chatted with her. They left the store together, and it was
only natural that, headed in the same direction, they walked
together up Crescent Place to Yonkers Avenue. A barber
on the street saw them enter a panel truck parked before

his shop. He thought the man was simply giving Rosemary .

a lift.

At seven o’clock that night, four hours later, Rosemary’s
parents received a telephone call that alarmed them. It was
from.the pharmacy at the Cross County Center where
Rosemary had taken a summer job as cashier.

“Where’s Rosemary?” the store manager asked. “She
sick?”

The parents became highly agitated. Rosemary suffered
from diabetes but she had had no insulin when she left
home. She had intended to deposit a $300 school pay-
check at the First National Bank, then purchase some of
the drugs she needed. She should have been home if she
had been taken ill. If not sick, she would have reported to
her job. What had happened? i

Agonizing hours passed slowly. By eleven o’clock that
night no word had been heard from Rosemary, and _ her
father went out to search the streets for her. In his desperate
hunt for his daughter he eventually arrived at a store where
nr was told, by the owner, that Rosemary had stopped in,

8

and left with a young salesman. She had seemed to know
the man. The only salesman, as far as Rosemary’s father
knew, who was acquainted with his daughter was 29-year-
old Edward Eckwerth,.an industrious, pleasant fellow who
delivered coffee to their house. But Eckwerth was married,
the father of a two-year-old girl. It was not until midnight
had passed, and Saturday was five hours old, that the
missing girl’s father felt driven to take some action. He
found Eckwerth’s address in the phone directory, hopped a
bus, and got off at Purser Place.

Eckwerth was surprised at his early-hour visitor, but im-
mediately cooperative. Yes, he told the girl’s father, he had
bumped into Rosemary in the store, had talked with her
briefly, then given her a lift downtown to the bank. He had
gone on about his own business after dropping her off,
hadn’t seen her again.

Spezzo returned to his home, to wait some more. It was
at ten that Saturday morning that the parents gave up.
They called the Yonkers police and reported their daughter
as missing. The description of Rosemary was immediately
flashed throughout thirteen states. Detectives Albert Hof-
farth and Robert Maitre questioned the parents, and tried
to pick up the girl’s trail at the store where she last had
been seen. They spoke with the barber who had seen her
enter the pane] truck. They went to the First, National Bank.

“No,” bank employees told the sleuths. “Rosemary Spezzo
never came (Continued on page 44)

haiteidican > EE Namie ene R


n.
irst or second?”
to Sergeant

erhearing
ul gree, but
lt and jury to

.wyer frowned
can it be first
‘ation? There’s

red for order
1g of the war-
indberg if he
dut the ex-con
was remanded
istique without
of the Circuit

saul dass oe or ag eon te an —_
ia ital ’ ee 54 : . a
diininientiieeds tke arab lia 2 ce hig tg BBL

nade to hold
section of the
However, be-
mpt the State
soon transfer-
ne section of
it trial.
n the first de-
was put on
aty Court in
no June 19th, »
ler was sen-
tent in Mar-
ie 20th, 1956,
el, who made
y confinement
rt possible.” ¢

s n Cline
‘ _ ,.ctitious.

1g girl at the
othing what-
nce. But he
for the fact
> home safe-

the Purser
d that Eck-
nd his wife
stay with
gh with the
her address,
ecords, was
« This was
d it was to
vays turned
ossible that
er or inno- ~
night have
is relatives
ced on the

‘ocused on
lice patrol
“4 at the

t city.

nging
1y and was
*, thus can-
int against
sh receipts,
ined as a
he

Examination of the truck revealed no
indications of violence. What, exactly,
had happened? The obvious answer was
that Eckwerth had driven to the train
Station, and apparently taken a train.
Questioning at the busy station, how-
ever, turned up no information on the
salesman or on an attractive young
brunette who might have been accom-
panying him.. Detectives quizzed the
girl’s friends and relatives on the pos-
sibility that she had eloped with Eck-
werth. All rejected this theory. Rose-
mary was a good gir]; she would never
have done anything that wild. It now
came forth that the missing girl was
subject to attacks of amnesia. Twice
before she had suffered such attacks.
Not having her insulin might have
brought one on this time.

Captain Dominico wasn’t sold on this
idea. “We have to accept the coinci-
dence that she had an attack at the
same time that Eckwerth decided to
chuck family and job, and drift. It

“could be. But we need Eckwerth for
‘that coffee money theft, and we might

as well hold him until he clears himself.

It was fantastic, the coincidence, yet
all angles of it were backed by good
reasons. It could have happened that
way. They might be chasing a small-
time thief for kidnaping, or worse, just
because he had pulled his job at the
wrong time. Another angle now was
added to the baffling missing persons
case—another salesman had disappear-
ed!

“This one is from New York,” De-
tective Maitre replied. “He dropped
out just about the same time Rosemary
Spezzo vanished. We’ve had a pick-up
order on him since the 25th.”

“What’s he sell?” Dominico asked.

“Insurance. His wife called and re-
ported him missing.”

An insurance salesman, a coffee route
man, a third-grade teacher. All missing.
A check of police records revealed
nothing on the insurance man, and to
the police the main job still was finding
Eckwerth—or Rosemary Spezzo.

Time is the element that gradually
pushes missing persons cases toward
more sinister crime—murder. But the
time element shortly removed from
Suspicion the missing insurance man.
He turned up at home, nursing a hang-
over, flat broke from an extended drink-
ing spree. He couldn’t recall much, but
questioned by police he definitely placed
himself out of the Rosemary Spezzo
case. He had been in another part of
the state. He provided witnesses who
confirmed this, and he was released.

A week passed. Two weeks. No sign
of Rosemary—and one typical word
from Eckwerth. A Yonkers merchant
revealed to police that a $20. check
cashed by Eckwerth on the day he
vanished had bounced back—phony.
Despite Eckwerth’s involvement in the
Spezzo case, he was sought officially on
only the theft charge and newspapers
had played the story up but briefly, and
only locally. The police pickup order
remained in effect on both.

On July 9th an automobile was stolen
nearly three thousand miles away from

EVERY HAIR... Qeoxs

--. that ever grew on the head of any man or woman, got every ,
Particle of its substance in only one way — from the blood stream.
It can no more draw its food from the surface of the skin than you can

a meal that way. Hair, to grow better, must be nourished better by v
the blood stream brings it.

Two kinds of hair-building sub-
stances are now known.
(1) Hair foods such as cysteine, rich
in essential sulphur, and
(2) Organic catalysts, formed from

certain vitamins, Proteins, etc.

These activate and contro! nadive
the living processes*which heir needs
turn the hair foodsSinto help
hair. For details, see OUr
free bulletin “Reports
from the Technical Jour- a)
nals.“* here’ + J
Cy-B-7 Capsules for Hair contain
both kinds: in fact they have almost
the entire list of the most important
hair-builders known today. (The sex
hormones are not included, as they
are unsafe for general use.)
Research scientists have shown
that these substances can stimulate
the growth of hair even when used
separately.* Combined in the new

‘improved Cy-B-7 formula, they
benefited thousands of hair.
people — some slightly, some m
edly, some really spectacularly.

Users of this natural methoc
hair improvement, BOTH MEN /

WOMEN, have repo:
one or more of tt
benefits, generally wi
one to three months:
(1) New hair on bald
thin areas.
(2) Faster growth of hair.
(3) More “life” (slight coarsening)
- hair that had become too fin
(4) Prompt reduction of falling hi
(5) Increased waviness for those w
- already had some tendency
ward a wave. ae
(6) Feeling of well-being, livel.
_ “health and energy. wt

not there i

Cy-B-7 capsules are for the correction of common, hereditary hairloss

v aiit
NO TROUBLESOME, . TIME-CONSUMING ROUTINE NO EXPENSIVE OFF0CE Cais

Your own family need not know the special potency

of your vitamin-plus capsules, unless You tell them

a2TOP THAT BALDING TREND NOW BEFORE IT GETS MOSE S18!OU%

283 E. Main St., Monmouth, Oregon #

Rush new Cy-B-7 Capsules for Hair to me eee ee ey" penne

chandise to be shipped in plain wrepper. PE a

~~
a i om eit
My Name seas ce teh Beers ee ‘eattig qt “od
ea j ‘ : weer ae Pe
: a ne Ae ME A ROR ANSE
Street pen une
A . bea Seat, LiF iy Ren a oes a eee a
brid cas

formule &?

find $5.85 for 110 new-f Cy

ede ee ol for the Hair—nearly 4 months yy
at the regular l-eday rate. No cherge

ClEnclosed find! $10 for 220 cepsules (4¥s¢ per
day). This economy bottle saves you 14% and
extends the no-risk period of treatment to 220
days—over seven months!i—when capsules ore
taken at the regular |-a-day rate. You get this
long, convincing test period entirely at our ex-
pense if you are not completely satisfied under
our comprehensive guarantee. Postpaid.

* which vitemins to avoid, and "Reports fror
the Technical Journals” (exact page reference
from Physiological Review, Science, Journal c

Biological Chemistry and others). e

}

3

i

3
54
4
™

Fi
. 3
4
3

5
Mi
+g

¢ THE HABITUAL CRIMINAL walks a thin line that in-
evitably leads to long years of a life spent behind bars or
death at the hands of the state. Once embarked on the path
of crime, the records bear out, the habitual criminal seldom
redeems himself. What deep-rooted drives and unreal fears
motivate the criminal, are not all known. What is certain is
that sooner or later most wrong-doers step over the line of
the misdemeanor and the felony and commit the capital
crime that forever ends any chance at redemption. Such
was the man that petite Rosemary Spezzo met in an unlit
park one fatal night in June. It was the fact that Rosemary
would rather die than submit to sexual assault that sealed his
fate. That fatal decision, instantly made by the petite school
teacher, would put his fate in the hands of a jury. +

He had been born, it seemed, destined for trouble. Women
were his weakness. Women and the habit of taking what-
ever he wanted by whatever means he could. When in need
of money, he had stolen it. Police records showed he had
been charged several times with grand larceny and robbery.
When he needed a car, he stole. Police records had him
down for auto theft. When he needed love, he stole that,
too. Most of the time his handsome face and smooth talk
had put over his successful romance robberies.

He had been headed toward the Rosemary Spezzo trouble
for a long time. January 19th, 1955, was the last step
toward it}.the step that upped him, from larceny, robbery
and auto theft, to the violent end of crime. A crippled

woman on crutches was the first to feel the whiplash of the
fury gathering within a man on the wrong side of the law.

She ran a motel with a restaurant and bar on Route 52
in Orange County, New York. That day in January a clean-.
cut young man entered, had a blackberry brandy, followed
by a beer, and a ham sandwich. The customer was slowly
sipping a cup of coffee as the proprietor hobbled on her
crutches toward the kitchen. She was a woman. Moreover,
she was crippled. And she undoubtedly had money’in the
cash register. :

Fists, thrown bravely by the habitual criminal, smashed
the woman in a sudden rage of savagery. Her crutches were
sent clattering to the floor. Her jaw was broken. She fell,
a helpless, bewildered human, wondering what hell had
suddenly been loosed upon her. The man funmbled with the
register drawer, but couldn’t unlock it..He grabbed her
purse, took $150 from it. Then he roughly pulled two
diamond rings from the fallen woman’s fingers.,He left her
there, bleeding and in pain, and sped out the door.

He was seen. He was identified. He was arrested and
convicted of first-degree larceny and second-dégree assault.
The sentence was five to eight years in the penitentiary.

.Despite his police record—nine arrests in all—he was able

to talk himself into a suspended sentence, and was placed
on indefinite probation.

This was the man who came into a Yonkers store at
about three o’clock, June 22nd, to purchase a pack of
cigarettes at the same time Rosemary Spezzo entered to buy


DON’T PUT ME IN WITH HIM continued all we b
‘ ]
the arrival of the victim, Manny Lichtenstein. He had been th
taken to the hospital for treatment of. his injuries before béing ~~ah
brought in to identify his attackers. ‘ “Exac
There was no question which one of the two suspects would “Uh,
be the most pliable. Connors twitched, plucked at his finger- those str
‘nails and answered questions quickly and in great detail. Ed- “You
wards snarled out the briefest possible responses. He never parked «
took his eyes off Connors and the surly set of his mouth “No,
looked like a threat in itself every time Connors spoke. shirt wa
“Where you from?” Garri asked. the little
“Philadelphia,” Connors said. Edwards ‘sneered, and said face.
nothing. a “Com*
“Where’d you get the car?” owner?”
Connors glanced at his big, thick-necked companion, swal- “T do:
lowed in a throat so dry that the sound could be heard across better a:
the room, and looked back at the officer. “Stole it,” he said. The a,
Edwards jerked in his seat. His hands opened and clenched would b:
with a menacing rhythm. : . was begi
Garri moved between the two men. “Take this fellow in. the The d
other room,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Edwards. member!
“We'll talk to ’em separately.” posing v
Edwards spread his long, denim covered legs apart and spat do some
F ‘on the floor. He glanced once more at Connors, mumbled to take
i something that no one could catch, turned on his heel and fol- “Not
lowed an officer into another room. “T th
2 a Garri watched him. The man’s very carriage was menacing. toughies
es i ae He appeared to be one of the meanest, toughest characters to Conn
They'd mover miévé>into the house ihey just bought. have been hauled into the West 100th Street station in a long he begg
time. When he was gone, the officers resumed their questioning
of Connors,
Englan der’s fa the A looks at the, fishing pole fo un d . BP did you pick Lichtenstein for? Did you think he was
= Bos a ss it ta 1 sa Pn dae Roa a e8s 7% “ Connors shook his head. “Ernie thought he was a. cop off Shown |
oe en ssi th dt } a duty. He thought he had a gun. Ernie wanted a gun for hold-
BN pes RS é ER ups. We ‘pulled up behind this guy and Emie grabbed up a H
piece of lead pipe from the back of the car, got out and swung
on him.” Ws
Lichtenstein, who was no cop, had just returned from a_ a:
fishing trip. He had parked his car on Ninety-ninth Street and
was heading for his home on Riverside Drive when the attack
, occurred. The blow had been a glancing one that knocked him »
Vy o to the ground, but did not seriously injure him. Before Con- i
nors could be questioned further, Lichtenstein, whose injury Pc
Yn, had required six stitches, was brought into the station where #.
ae he confronted Edwards. re
eens “HE'S the one,” he said. “Unquestionably.” ae
oy, The identification was purely a routine procedure. L iy
Be Garri and Beckles knew they had the right man from the start, ; fr
They went back to questioning Connors. ae
“What you doing in New York?” ; aM
“We came in Sunday, from Philadelphia. We took “a room i B.

at the Mayfair Hotel over on Forty-ninth Street.”

“Were you planning to look for work?” oy,

“Work? Yeah. Yeah, I*guess you’d call it work. It’s some 3
job looking for the right guys to roll.” Connors gave the offi-
cers that same wide-mouthed, lop-sided grin.

He got na response. New York was riddled from toe to
heel with its own tough talking pipe wielding thugs. They
weren't anxious for any Philadelphia imports.

“So you’ve been here since Sunday,” the detective said. He

~ was wondering how many other*Manny Lichtensteins might
have fallen victim to these two muggers. “Where'd you get
the car?” ;

*“Well, you see by Monday we was down to 50 cents. That’s

t

Le.


135 NE =2— 7193 127 NE =2— 862; 130 NE =-2— 3153 133 NE -2= 1,63,
EDWARDS, Earnest Lee, white, 22, electrocuted Sing Sing (Kings) on June 28, 1956,

"Earnest Lee Ddwards, 22-years-nld, died in the electric chair at 11:0) o'clock
tonight for the bludgeoning to death of a fisherman, Howard Englander, on Man-
hattan Beach, Brooklyn, two years ago, He had spent more than 1) months in the
death house d uring which his execution was postponed three times," TIMES, New

York, N¥. June 29, 1956 (lsh).

"One of the 2 men involved in the $1 robbery-slaying July 5 of a Brooklyn fish-
erman on a Mahattan Beach pier was indicted yesterday by a Kings County grand
jury for murder in the first degree, Richard P, Connors, 23«yearseold, of Phila-
delphia, pleaded not guilty to the charge, He was held without bail...Asked
about the status of the second man, Earnest Lee Edwards, 2h, of Newport News,
Va., District Attorney Edward S, Silver replied: (He's not on the golf course..."
This was believed to mean that the case against Edwards, who is in the Qity Pri-
son in Mahhattan on charges of assault, attempted rogbery and grand larceny in
another case, is still under investigation by the grahd jury." TIMES, Aug. 5,

195k (13:2. )

"A superseding first degree indictment was handed up yesterday in King's County
Court charging two men with the $1 robbery-slaying a Brooklyn fisherman on a
Manhattan pier last Jufly 5, (Connors and Edwards) pleaded not guilty and were
held without bail, No trial date was set, Connors, who previosly had been in-
dicted in the murder, is accused with Edwards for the death of Howard Englander,
29, of 830 Ashford St., Brosklyn, After crushing the victim's skull the de fend=
ants allegedly pushed the body into the water, It was recovered three days la-
ter off Fire Island," TIMES, KBERESKFRIREKAKSTISSS November 19, 195), (1925.)

"Edwards commitment to the death hous in Sing Sing was stayed until April 18,

On the 15th Judge Samuel S,. Leibowitz will conduct an open hearing...for a new
trial on 'new found evidence,’ Mr, Brodsky (Edwards! cousel) told the court that
he had letters from the two convicts that say that Edwards co-defendant, Ricahrd
Connors, eetestified falsely as a prosecution witness, Connors, who obtained a
severance of trial, was a principal witness against Edwards..." TIMES, April 5»

1955 (11:5.)

"i yekichard P, Connors, 2, who on Monday had refused to testify as a prosecutior
witniss changed his mind,..Connors,who obtained a sevezance, said that he and
Ldawards were in the Manhattan Beach area to obtain money for a return trip to
Philadelphia. When Mr, Englander appeared on the scene, Edwards, the witness
said, Picked up a 30-inch pipe and as the witness stooped to pick up bait, Ed-
wards struck him over the head," TIMES, January 26, 1955 (18:8)

" ,edudge Samuel Leibowitz made his ruling (denying a new trial) after an open
hearing, Two convicts testified that Connors, who was a state witness, had giv-
en false testimony at the trial, They were cellmates of Connorseeerhe judge sai¢
he had 'no faith in the creditabily of the witnesses." TIM ES, April 23, 195),

(20:1).

FRONT PAGE
DETECTIVE

OCTOBER, 1954

EDWARDS, Ernest Lee, white, elec. NY (Kings) June 28, 1956

aS 9 S

Ernest Edwards (left) had nothing to say, but Richard Connors talked about murders he knew of in three different states.

DON’T PUT ME IN WITH HIM

“He kills Virginia style, snaps the spine. Don’t put the two of us together.”

by NATHANIEL PENNYPACKER

BROOKLYN, N. Y., JULY 15, 1954
@ “Don’t put me in there with him. Oh, my God, don’t put
me in the same room!”

The kid was thrashing around like a convulsive dog. His
eyes would fog with fright, then suddenly blaze with desperate
pleading. His mouth, the same wide mouth that had been held
in a half smile just a few minutes earlier, was now drawn into
a thin line, the lips almost white against his teeth:

The two detectives glanced at each other. This boy was one
of a pair they had just arrested for a mugging on West Ninety-
ninth Street, just off Manhattan’s Riverside Drive.

Radio car patrolmen Charles Garri and Vincent Beckles had
heard shouts as they cruised the area early on the morning of
Tuesday, July 6. They traced the screams to Ninety-ninth Street
just in time to see a man run away from a battered victim,
scramble into a car and pull away. They chased the car to
104th Street where they crowded it to the curb and arrested
two occupants, a thin faced, 23-year-old youth with a crew cut
who gave his name as Richard Connors, and a sullen, tousle-
haired man of 24 who said he was Ernest Lee Edwards. Both
men were taken to the West 100th Street station where pre-
liminary questioning got underway while police awaited

continued on next page


ntinued

He had been
. es before béing

suspects would
d at his finger-
reat detail. Ed-
ises. He never
of his mouth
irs spoke.

ered, and said

mpanion, swal-
ve heard across
le it,” he said.
1 and clenched

is fellow in, the
vard Edwards.

apart and spat
iors, mumbled
s heel and fol-

menacing.
. coaracters to
ition in a long
elr questioning

1 think he was

was a cop off
gun for hold-
grabbed up a
out and swung

ured from a
ath Street and
hen the attack
t knocked him
. Before Con-
whose injury
station where

ne procedure.
rom the start.

took a room
et.”

ork. It’s some
gave the ofh-

{ from toe to
thugs. Thev

ctive said. He
nsteins might

ered you get

ts. That’s

4 all we had, just a half a buck. We took the subway out. to
Coney Island. . .”

“Ts that where you stole the car?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s right. We stole it out in Coney Island.”

“Exactly where did you stéal it?”

“Uh, I don’t know. It was standing there : .
those streets. I don’t remember . . .”

“You’ve been remembering pretty good up till now. Was it
parked on the street, or did you hold a guy up for it?”

“No, oh, no .. .” Connors had begun to sweat. His white
shirt was showing great patches of stain under the arms, and
the little half grin he’d been wearing no.longer showed on his
face.

“Come on, fellow, how’d you get that car? Where’s the
owner?” :

“TI don’t really know. I wasn’t the one who took it. You
better ask Edwards.”

The detectives knew that getting anything out of Edwards
would be like squeezing juice from a rock. And now Connors
was beginning to go through that find-out-for-yourself. routine.

The detective shrugged. ‘We'll find out,” he said. Then, re-
membering Connors’ apparent fear of Edwards, he said. “Sup-
posing we just close you in the room with Edwards while we
do some of our own investigating.” He stood up and started
to take Connors by the arm. That’s when the outburst came.

“Not in there,” Connors whimpered. “Not in with him.”

“T thought he was your buddy, a. pair of Philadelphia
toughies.”

Connors body appeared to shake all over. “No, no, please,”
he begged. “I’m afraid of him. I'll tell you everything.”

continued on next page

. uh, one of

ry

Shown the lead pipe that was taken from the stolen car, Edwards refuses to comment. All he would say is “I want a lawyer.”

There’ve been other muggings like this in Virginia
and Philadelphia, Connors tells questioning officers.


ew...

am
[~)

Here is a portrait of a
would-be Dillinger, Talk-
ing out of the side of his
mouth and smoking ciga-
rets as if it were a vice,
this warped young punk
could not stop with acting.
He had to commit murder
in a _ roadside  stickup

TARTLING DETECTIVE, June,

HICKLER, Howard & MOHLSICK, Peter, whs, elec. NY (Westchester) April 16, 1

1942

hands

secth
short
1935.
Se
pocke
“A
faces

calle
fello


eil’s é
ma.
for

ung

S

HARRY KAIN, detective,
lice,
Joseph Grinzi, ‘cruised one night around
Manhattan’s Bowery. Kain noticed two
youths attempting to pry open a trunk on
the back of an automobile. The action
looked suspicious. The officers questioned
the youths. Their explanation . sounded
fishy. In the pocket of one, Kain found a
32-caliber revolver. The young men gave
their names as Peter
Howard Eichler, twenty-one, of Peekskill,
New York. While the officers were grill-
ing the suspects at the Elizabeth Street sta-
tion, the mysterious killing of Raymond H.
Pierce, twenty-three, of Peekskill, was
broadcast by authorities there.. The officers
taxed their boy captives with the murder.
They confessed. They said that they had
set out to emulate Dillinger and had re-
solved to kill the first’ motorist they could
stop, rob him, steal his car and “beat it”
to Chicago. Pierce happened to be the un-
lucky victim. After killing Pierce, “the
youths picked up a couple of girls, danced
with them awhile, took the girls home and
drove into the city to spend the night before
starting West. Kain’s eagle eye nipped their
contemplated mad caréer in the bud, before
more murders were added to their list.

*

FRANK KAMMER, detective of Cincinnati,
Ohio, police, quickly cleaned up an at-
tempted robbery recently, in which the bandit
gunfire sent one victim to the hospital badly
wounded. John Hamilton, a fruit merchant,
tucked the day’s receipts, about $60, in his
pocket, locked his store for the night and
started home. He was accompanied by his
friend, Harley Carter. As they passed a
nearby corner, Floyd Becker, whom he knew
slightly, nodded at him. A moment after-
wards, a man who later gave his name as
Frank Lewis, poked a gun in Hamilton’s
chest and ordered “hands up.” Carter
started to walk away and Lewis fired at
him, wounding him in the left leg. Lewis
then fled, accompanied by Becker. Detec-
tive Kammer rushed to the scene, went to
the homes of Becker and Lewis, took them
to headquarters and booked them on charges
of assault with intent to rob and shooting
to kill. The remarkable part of the affair
was that thirty minutes after the attempted
hold-up, Kammer had the bandits in jail and
their reputed confessions.

*
PETER ROFF, motorcycle policeman of the
New York City department, was the lucky
cop out of a hundred who recently took part
in a tenement roof-top chase of four des-
peradoes, believed to have staged a, $7,000
machine-gun hold-up of the Trade Bank in
Gotham. While police played hide and:
seek with the four on the fog-drenched roofs
and mirky stairways, a hundred officers
altogether joining in the chase, only one of
them, Roff, was fortunate enough to come
upon his man. Roff cornered James Angley,
one of the desperadoes, on the second floor
of one of the tenements and when Angley

resisted, Roff beat him into submission. The

other three elusive suspects escaped into the
mist.

*
JOHN KLEEMEIER, lieutenant of the Cin-
cinnati police, was confronted with a per-

plexing problem recently. Lieutenant Klee-
to the complaint of William

meier listened

New York City po-{ 4
with two fellow officers, John Kelly and\4

Mohlsick, twenty, and -

Intimate News and
Views About Our
Guardians of the Law

by Nightstick

E. Gabel that a motorist with oné arm ampu-
tated at the shoulder and the other near the

- elbow. was driving a. car on Cincinnati

streets. -Gabel claimed to have been in a
minor smash-up with this maimed driver,
whose car bore a Cleveland, Ohio, license.
Kleemeier ordered an investigation which,
however, he did not expect to produce much
results. :“What can I do?” the officer asked.
“Even if I learn the name of this man, I
can’t stop him from driving. A driver’s li-
cense law would. end such driving which
is dangerous to the public.”

*

G. T. MARLER, justice of the peace of Cale-
donia, Missouri, was faced with 4 perplex-
ing case. when an irate minister complained
that the flirting of girls in his congregation
during church services was a disturbance
of the peace. The Reverend G. T; Whitmer
of the General Baptist Church in Caledonia,
seemingly believes that marriages should be
made in heaven and that church pews should
not be employed by the young to further the
ends of Cupid. So, when several young
women insisted upon turning around and
smiling upon the row of eligible young
bachelors right in the midst of the minister’s
learned discussion about the foolish virgins
who forgot to put oil in their lamps, the
minister filed charges against four of them.
There is no hall of justice in Caledonia, so
court was held under a big oak tree in the
church yard. A jury of six church members
was impaneled and the girls were found
guilty and fined $1.00 each. The girls, hay-
ing no money, were taken to Poplar Bluff,
the county seat, and faced prospects of hav-
ing to serve out their fines in jail. Finally,
however, the law allowed the young ladies
to go home to attempt to get applications
for. parole signed by the minister and the
Sunday school superintendent.

*
CHARLES WELLING, lieutenant of the Chi-
cago police and night squad supervisor of
the detective bureau, is mourned by his com-
rades as the result of a most peculiar acci-
dent that took. the officer’s life. Lieutenant
Welling was killed accidentally Wen his
automatic pistol fell from beneath the mat-
tress of his bed and. was discharged as it
struck the.floor. The bullet struck Lieutenant
Welling just below the heart, killing him
instantly. Born October 27, 1883, Lieutenant
Welling entered the department when he
was twenty-eight years of age. Two years

later, he was made an acting detective-
sergeant and was created a full sergeant in
1921. He became a lieutenant less than a
year ago. Lieutenant Welling was known
as one of the most efficient policemen in the
Chicago department, as well as one of the
most affable. On three different occasions he
won the public approval of his superiors
4nd was given extra compensation for meri-
torious service,

*
ELLSWORTH DIETZ, motor vehicle inspector
of Westport, Connecticut; had his attention

, attracted by a car that was careening along

the road, as though being
drunken driver. When the inspector halted
the zig-zagging machine, he found it occu-
pied by the beautiful Evelyn Gosnell, former
comedienne in such rollicking plays as “Up
In Mabel’s Room” and “Ladies’ Night.” The
inspector blushed a trifle when he discov-
ered the actress was clad only in a pair of
fetching pajamas. When he took in the
situation, he escorted Evelyn to the cooler to
sleep it off. ‘When the actress awoke, still
in her. pajamas, with a splitting headache
and held under $500.00 bail on a charge of
driving while intoxicated, she was in any-
thing but a laughing mood. She did not
remember, so she said, what it was all about.
But the arresting officer was more explicit.
“At first I did not realize the lady was a
trifle tight,” said the officer. “I asked to
see her license and she wanted to know if
I thought she carried her license in her
pajamas. Even then, I was not quite sure
the woman was drunk, but when she tried
to take a bite out of my neck, I decided
she must be,” the officer stated.

guided by a

JAMES McKINNON, patrolman of the De-
troit police. department, is -a spartan officer
who places duty above everything else. In
July this year, John Bagglore, a junk dealer,
was held up and robbed by four armed
youths. It fell to the lot of McKinnon to
investigate. He learned that two of his own
five sons, Nicholas, nineteen, and Alexander,
seventeen, were implicated in the affair.
When he questioned the boys and they tear-
fully admitted their guilt, the father knew
there was but one thing for him to do. He
turned them over to the law. Bagglore
didn’t want to prosecute; neither did De-
tective Lawton Scott, in charge of the case.
They would not sign complaints. But the
father insisted and complaints were finally
signed. The boys pleaded guilty. But the
sorrowing father, with the deep sympathy
of his brother officers, still is able to look
the world in the face, having faithfully per-
formed his duty under most trying circum-
stances.

*
JOHN CAROLL, chief of detectives of St.
Louis, Missouri, police, has heard the old
story about the simplest way to find a stray-
ing horse. Try to think: like a horse and
go where the horse would go and you'll find
him, runs the old ‘saying. When within the
space of three weeks two armed bandits ob-
tained small sums of money in hold-ups of
two Western Automobile Supply Company
stores and each time escaped, Caroll put
himself in the place of the robbers and tried
to think what they would do next. “The
hold-ups were so easy, I tried to think where
there would be another one as soft, were
I these stick-up men. I decided that a store

61

Gyenhe /G3S

Howard and MOHLSICK,

Peter, whites, elec, NY (Westchester) },-16-1934@

EDERAL men moved a step nearer
Freie final cleanup of the Bremer kid-

naping case with the recent capture of
William Weaver and Myrtle Eaton in a
hideout on a chicken ranch near Allen-
dale, Fla. The fugitive pair had severed
past connections, adopted a child and been
accepted as chicken
farmers by their neigh-
bors. But they could not
shake off the relentless
pursuit of Uncle Sam’s
G-men.

At this writing, the
government’s latest coup
leaves only four major
figures in the kidnap-
ing racket still unac-
counted for: Alvin Kar-
pis and his henchman,
Harry Campbell, wanted
in the Bremer case;
William Mahan, remaining principal in the
Weyerhaeuser snatch; and Thomas H.
Robinson, Jr., (rumored to be dead) the
abductor of Mrs. Berry V. Stoll of Louis-
ville, Ky.

These men are doomed. The end may
come quickly—before this magazine reaches
the stands—it may be that the manhunt
will last for months. But the outcome is
inevitable. Once a criminal’s name goes on
Uncle Sam's “wanted” list, there is no
escape.

John Dillinger was never noted for his
intelligence or gift of prophecy but he made
a statement once which every embryo crimi-
nal might take to heart: “4 guy in this
racket is living on borrowed time!”

HITCH-HIKE KILLERS

Deciding to emulate the public enemies
they had read about, Peter Mohlsick, 20,
and Howard Eichler, 21, both of Peeks-
kill, N. Y.. threw up their part-time jobs
and embarked upon a life of crime.

Three hours after they had thumbed a
ride with Raymond H. Pierce of Osca-
wanna Corners, murdered him in a re-
sisted holdup and stolen his car, they were
picked up in New York City. Boastfully
the youths confessed the fatal shooting, told
how they planned to go on to Chicago,
robbing and killing motorists en route.

Perhaps Mohlsick and Eichler never
heard of the time-worn phrase, “Crime

Wm. Weaver

Readers are invited to address their letters to this

department at 529 S. 7th Strect, Minneapolis, Minn,

doesn’t pay.” New York officials will
shortly enlighten them. The state rewards
murder with death in the electric chair.

PAROLE SCANDALS

Despite the action of several state
in cutting down on the number
released from prison, the subject of promis-
cuous parole continues e a matter of
grave concern to law €nforcement officers.

It has been estimated that fifty percent
of our prison population is restored to civil
life via the parole route. Many are first
offenders and deserve clemency. The dif-
ficulty lies in the freeing of unregenerates
and repeaters who, by reason of misguided
sentiment, overcrowded prisons or political
pressure, are turned loose again to prey
upon the public,

In a recent address J. Edgar Hoover,
head of the Federal Bureau of Investiga-
tion, presented a significant commentary
upon the parole question: “No one...
will scoff at the theory of parole... The
theory is beautiful. The practice approaches
a national scandal... I am free to admit I
am biased. ... When I figure that every
man in the Federal Bureau who has been
killed was the victim of a man who has
been the recipient of some form of execu-
tive clemency, that should not be hard to
understand.”

We commend Chief Hoover’s words to
our various parole boards when a “bad
record” convict next applies for an official
whitewashing.

KANSAS CRACKS DOWN

persons

Scourge of the American courts, the
crooked lawyer has, for years, plied his
subversive trade unchecked, thanks to the
legal loopholes in our codes of criminal pro-
cedure. But in Kansas, at least, the way
of the legal transgressor is henceforth go-
ing to be increasingly difficult.

Kansas legislators recently revived the
death penalty and defined the vague term,
racketeering; but the chief blow to crimi-
nal connivers and their legal consorts was
struck with the passage of the “alibi” law.
No longer may legal shysters advance a
trumped-up, last-minute alibi which cannot
be checked by the prosecution. If the de-
fense is an alibi, notice of such intent must

be served upon the prosecutor seven days
before the date set for trial.
e of it, perhaps the new law

6m of the fake alibi points the way to
the eventual doom of the crooked lawyer.

SENSITIVE SLAYERS

Prison officials are seldom surprised by
the strange quirks of human nature re-
vealed by their charges. But the reactions
of Mills Redmond, 27-year-old Chicago
slayer, astounded jail psychiatrists.

Awaiting trial for the murder of Marian
Cozzo, 17, whom he threw into a sewer
last December when she resisted his ad-
vances, Redmond told his jailers that he
wanted to be moved to
a different cell block so
he could associate with
a better class of pris-
oners.

“The men around
me,” he explained, ‘use
such awful language.”

Redmond was not
moved. Jail officials had
no sympathy for his
lately awakened sensi-
tivity—nor have we.
Whatever his surround-
ings or ultimate punishment, they cannot
begin to compensate for his brutish attack.

SECRET POLICE

Marian Cozzo

Recent press dispatches carried accounts
of a meeting of Wisconsin’s state bar asso-
ciation at which Circuit Judge Robert
Cowie, of La Crosse, Wis., is reported to
have pictured America’s G-men as lawless
and the Department of Justice as an or-
ganization being built into a secret police
system comparable to those of Europe.

We concur with Judge Cowie’s reported
statement that the secret police have no
place in a democracy. But from the crime
standpoint, America is not a democracy but
an oligarchy, presided over by the infamous
kings and queens of the underworld. Daily
we pay tribute to their rapacity—in money,
goods and human lives. If a secret police
is necessary to check the activities of these
monsters, then by all means let us have
secrecy!

1. PAROLES—Adopt stringent legis-
lation and supervision tending to
curb parole and pardon evils.

2. CODDLING—tTighten prison regu-
lation to reduce coddling of in-
mates and make jail an unpleasant
place to be.

3. PUBLICITY—Strip crime and crim-
inals of false glamour in all books,
plays and publications.

4. GUNS—Make purchase increasingly

difficult, investigate all sales and
register both gun and owner.

5. COOPERATION-——Unify country’s
manhuntets with centralized nation-
al office.

6. POLITICS—Take politics out of
the police force, making political ob-
struction of justice a federal offense.

7. REWARDS — Reward officer-heroes
and provide for dependents of men
shot in action.

DARING DETECTIVE’S ANTI-CRIME PLATFORM

8. LAW YERS—Adopt
paign to. drive
from the courts.

9. CODES — Establish uniform codes
of state legal procedure to cut red
tape and speed up justice.

10. TRAINING—Inaugurate a_ federal
“crime school” for all prospective
Peace officers.

rigorous cam-
lawyer - criminals

DARING

November, 1936


§
Sep ecemece

Y sees eagee
Rohdenburg.
enrualics ntsc

woe

eS
1

“00830 +9
z=

| 83

ke

teal to st

Tas ; aM, Ainrrera, wut te

* ran. . i ii tq
{BEVENTH. nace

(hree-yearoled And
Pia ree John: 104 pounds aWhs

ny. Sam Re h
eseny

celerate,

Ne 1 ey Bar!

née} 40

‘Madras Gingham, La
alen ran

Weather elear; track eves.

eee AN ‘War, The
La Kross ee

Rt

fo t-(Letfarte Ave. Heanct) ta Greenwood Ave. : Rte
OGRASD STAND, $9.96, LANIRS, 6! 45.

sSTON HANDICAP

“AND THREK OTBEG iis ister MoE

eave Peon, Siation: an ‘neat’ mie ith Ave, hikes Fictbuan Aves,
380, 9:50 P.M.

00 BROOKLYN. HANDICAP

“A 2-MILE S’

*

PECRAR. WAC BH

factudia,

-PLECHASE

At 0:00 3. ML
Arookiyn, at 18190

From Nostrand Ave, S min eters Raat sy W @ iin, later,
Nverial ¢ ‘ere Reearied fer laitien on All Race Trains. Aig srachied Pd bedi ie
Yi y Trolley, 4

cope er»

Ch oe i

"O¢6T-Le~g (xUoug) AN *oeTe Seqtum f*q uyop “NVoE

By THOMAS RAY LENAHAN

grotesquely-sprawled body of the dead youth. The

left side of the victim’s once handsome face and his
hands bore deep lacerations. Dried blood caked his parted
lips.

“Hit and run, Officer?” queried an onlooker.

Trooper Sergt. Charles La Forge shrugged, then threw
his flashlight’s bright beam across the victim’s back. He
quickly straightened up.

“Accident, nothing,” he stated flatly. “He's been mur-
dered. Shot twice in the back.”

The body lay beside Pump House road, in a deserted
section about one mile northeast of Peekskill, N. Y. It was
shortly after 9 o’clock on the sultry evening of Aug. 9,
1935.

Sergt. La Forge carefully searched the dead man’s
pockets but found nothing to indicate his identity.

“Anybody here know him ?”? he asked scanning the
faces of the onlookers in the dim light.

All in the small group shook their heads negatively.
Turning to Troopers Frank Kappesser and Richard
Barber, La Forge continued, “He's fairly well dressed
but there isn’t a cent in his pockets. Nothing else of value
either. Looks like a holdup.”

Both troopers nodded silently. ‘

“Who found him?” the sergeant asked, turning back
to the civilian witnesses.

An intelligent looking man stepped forward. “We did—
my wife and I and our friend, here,” he declared, in-
dicating two pale-faced women standing off to one side.

“How long ago?”

“About a half hour. I ran to the nearest phone and
called Troop K barracks in Hawthorne right away. You
fellows got here mighty fast but he was dead before that.”

“You mean he was alive when you found him ?” asked
La Forge, eyeing the speaker sharply.

The latter nodded.

Tee tall, gray-clad state trooper bent over the

: The body of young Raymond Pierce, below, lies
sprawled where it fell on the edge of Pump House
«oad, near Peekskill, N.. Y., when a killer’s gun
ot hwas armed’ with a piece of pipe:

" spate death. The triggerman’s accomplice, above, i


meas

“Say anything before he died?”

“He kept mumbling all the time but I
couldn’t make out what he was trying to
say. Delirious, I guess.”

“How come you were out in this lonely
section tonight ?”

“Well, I live down the road a way. It
was so hot that I felt like getting some
air and stretching my legs. I invited the
ladies to take a stroll with me. It was
right here that this young fellow
staggered toward us out of the dark. At
first I thought he was drunk. But when
I saw the blood on his face I knew he
was badly hurt.

“Tran to him and asked if I could help.
He fell into my arms and sank to the
ground, Right after that I ran to phone
you.”

“Leaving the women here?”

“Ves,”

La Forge addressed his*next query to
the man’s wife and friend. “Did he say
anything intelligible while your husband
Was away ?”

Both shook their heads. “I don’t think
he could speak,” one said. “He seemed
to be choking on his own blood. It was
awful.”

“Did you see anyone else on the road
from the time you left your home until
you encountered him?”

“Not a soul, on foot. A few cars
passed, through.”

La Forge looked thoughtful. ““He may

have been shot elsewhere and heaved out .

of a car,” he mused aloud. “Hence the
cuts on his face and hands.”

“On the other hand,” put in Trooper
Barber, “he may have been ambushed
while on foot. His’ weak condition may
have caused him to fall a few times and
cut himself.”

Trooper Kappesser, whose flashlight
had been carefully covering the ground
in the vicinity of the slain youth, rejoined
his fellow officers.

“T found this ring a few feet from the
body,” he declared, handing La Forge a
golden circlet. “If he was held up the
hood must have missed it. Probably fell
out of his pocket when he collapsed
here.”

“Looks like a wedding ring,” the
sergeant said. ‘No initials engraved on

Hub of the murder manhunt was Hawthorne barracks, left, head-
quarters of Troop K, New York state police. The gray-clad
troopers were put on their mettle during the search for the kill-
ers’ car which finally appeared in New York’s Chinatown.

the inside though.” La Forge returned to the gathering
of onlookers, ‘This ring belong to any of you folks?” he
asked.

No one claimed the ring.

“Guess it’s the dead man’s, sure enough,” commented
Barber.

“It might bring in a woman angle,” La Forge said.

“Maybe someone was jealous of him and took his other
valuables to make it look like a stickup,” said Kappesser.

“Or took them to prevent identification, and left the
ring as a sort of funeral wreath,” added Barber. “Most
murderers are a little on the wacky side.”

Viney “It’s a thought,” admitted La Forge.

STARTLING

Trooper F:
puts the «
while Troc

the lead
‘ Scene of t
+ Pump H<
from whic
phantom p
parked at

DETECTIVE

ith ceriatiatei iia


ne barracks, left, head-
olice. The gray-clad
che search for the kill-
x York’s Chinatown.

rned to the gathering
ury of you folks?” he

enough,”

commented
gle,” La Forge said.
im and took his other
sup,” said Kappesser.
heation, and left the
idded Barber. “Most
side.”

rge.

STARTLING

’ parked: at the: Hawthorne’ ba:

DETECTIVE

A hearse-like machine pulled up at the
scene of the tragedy. Dr. Amos O.
Squire, Westchester county medical ex-
aminer, and two uniformed aides then
joined the little group around the corpse.

After a curt nod to the troopers, the
doctor bent down to begin his cursory
examination of the remains.

La Forge beckoned to the other off-
cers. “Let’s look over the road back a
ways,” he offered. ‘Those witnesses say
he staggered from the direction of Peeks-
kill. Maybe we can locate the spot where
he was shot.”

As the trio started off, flashlights
sweeping the ground, Barber said, “He
may have been wearing a hat and lost it
along here. If his initials are in it we'll
be all set.”

The sergeant quickly nodded. “The
killer may have left a calling card too.”

Some 200 yards farther on, the thin,
bloody trail on the grassy roadside traced
by the troopers ended abruptly in a small,
dark pool.

“He must have lain here for awhile,”
said La Forge grimly. “It’s where he was
shot, or was thrown from a car after
being shot elsewhere.”

Hasty examination of the roadway in
the vicinity revealed a pair of tire-skid
markings. “Might not mean much,” La
[Continued on page 68]

Trooper Frank Kappesser, left above
puts the cuffs on’ the triggerman,

the lead pipé-wielding «accomplice:
Scene of the crime was the PRs ‘of

the
phantom phaetonishown abov ent,
rracks:

‘


SS a

a

Sensational Military Style

610 W. Van Buren,

———————————————

AUDELS

MACHINISTS

AND TOOL MAKERS HANDY BOOK

JUST - A BEAD REFERENCE zh
t ow pera
Re ouT! and Set Up Lathes,
g Screw and ing Ma-
chines, Shapers, Drill
Presses and All Other

Tools,

A KEY TO SHOP PRACTICE
In All Branches, For
Every Machinist,
Toolmaker, Machine

SWS

AMD TOOL MAKERS BAROY BOOK

AVE

WACKINY

'§ PRACTICAL BOOKS
IW ONE! 60 FULLY
ILLUSTRATED CHAPTERS

Ke)
gs
an
S|
ye
So
a8
83

M its.
4—Shop Physics.

| cad
GULLY ILLUSTRATED 5—How to Use the
Slide Rule,

ASKTO SEE IT
$ Get this information for yourself. Mail cou-
4 pon today. No obligation unless satisfied.

COMPLETE ¢ PAY ONLY $1A MO.

Pegg oes aoe eae hag Pe
Boba Fes eatin cl eee danse el

Le% | BIG
\4 MILITARY SHOES Fs
PEE “” Sales Pade ok Sow

Oxford
makes huge profits for our salesmen.
Smart — sturdy —comfortable—soft a8
glove leather, Leads line of hundreds
fast-selling dress-work-sport shoes
for men and women, Lowest direct

factory prices—biggest commis-
sions, Rush card TODAY for
FREE Sample Outfit. Get your
own shoes wholesale. Reserve
your Territory, Write NOW.

VICTOR SHOE CO.
Dept. V-33,

FREE

Chicago, Ul.

ITCHING FEET... TOES

Don’t wait! At first sign of Athlete's 'e
Foot, use Dr. Scholl's SOLVEX. Relieves %*,
intense itching; kills fungi it contacts;
helps heal broken skin between the
toes. Liquid or Ointment. Only 50¢.

D' Scholls SOLVEX

MORE DRAFTSMEN NEEDED in all

manufacturing. and building lines—$30

to $50 a week and Learn quickly

at home in spare time. Selective Em-

ee ment Service. Write NOW for
Bulletin. No obligation.
AMERICAN SCHOOL

Dept. DDA90, Drexel & 58th, Chicago

BUY yniteo states
BONDS: STAMPS

WAKE UP YOUR
LIVER BILE —

Without Calomel—And You'll Jump Out
of Bed in the Morning Rarin’ to Go

The liver should pour 2 pints of bile juice into
your bowels every day. If this bile is not flowing
freely, your food may not t, It may just de-
cay in the bowels. Then gas ts up your stom-
ach. You get constipated, You feel sour, sunk and
the world looks punk,

It takes those good, old Carter’s Little Liver
Pills to get these 2 pints of bile flowing freely to
make you feel “up and up.” Get a package tosey.
Take as directed. Effective in making bile free-
ly. Ask for Carter’s Little Liver Pills, 10¢ and 25¢,.

68

he went over to Richmond to see about
a job. He was talking about going over
there last night.”

“I’m going to stay around town pretty
close,” the marshal told Allison, “I’m
going to wait here until Revalle shows
up.”

The farmer said he would walk home.
“And I think I’ll take the cat along,” he
told Drischel. “See, he wants to go.”

“All right,” Drischel said, “but hang
onto him for dear life. He’s evidence.”

An hour later .Revalle showed up.
When told he was under arrest he seemed
surprised. “What for?” he demanded.

_ “Where did you get that cat you had
in your room?” the marshal demanded.

Revalle said he had picked it up on the
street.

“That was Allison’s cat, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s why I picked it up. I
recognized it.” He said he had taken it
home because he didn’t want to see it
starve.

“You mean you didn’t want to burn
that cat,” Drischel said grimly. “But still
you didn’t mind slugging your friend and
benefactor, Mrs. Allison, over the head
-with an ax and burning her. What did
you do it for?”

“I didn’t kill her,” Revalle denied. “I
haven’t been out there since I left and
that’s the truth.”

Sheriff Meredith and Supt. Gorman
from Richmond were soon on the job.

After denying for more than five hours
that he had committed the crime, Revalle
was finally convinced that it was useless
to go on.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll tell the truth;
I did it. I killed her. I went there to rob
her, We talked for a while and then I
went into the bedroom and _ started
looking through her purse.

“She came in and discovered me. She

grabbed me and we wrestled around the
room, Finally I got hold of the hatchet
and hit her a couple of times. When I
realized what I had done I got the coal-
oil can and poured it out on the floor.
Then I threw a match down and got out
of there.”

Despite the medical evidence to the
contrary, Revalle denied he had as-
saulted Mrs. Allison. He said he got
$5.40 from her purse before he left the
house. On his way out he cut the tele-
phone wire. The cat followed him out
of the house.

“I felt sorry for it,” he said, “so I put
it under my coat and took it along.”

Revalle said he had had breakfast at
the restaurant and then had walked out
to the Allison farm, arriving about 11
o'clock. After the crime, he walked back
to town and went straight to his room,
then down to the cigar store.

“That farmer who said I was out there
knew what he was talking about,” he
admitted, “He must have recognized me.”

He was taken into court immediately

“and entered a plea of guilty to murder in

the first degree. After hearing the testi-
mony of the officers, and after Revalle
had told virtually the same story from
the witness stand that he had related to
the authorities, he was sentenced on April
14, 1910, to life imprisonment in the
Indiana state penitentiary.

On Jan. 30, 1932, Revalle was granted
executive commutation of sentence to a
term of 25 years to life and was sub-
sequently approved for parole and re-
leased on April 25, 1935. But the sex
slayer of Mrs. Allison failed to live up to
the terms of his parole and was declared
a violator on Nov. 7, 1935. He has not
been seen since and if caught will be re-
turned to the prison to serve out his
sentence.

Death on Pump House Road

[Continued from page 19]

Forge observed, “but a car was braked
here suddenly not long ago.”

“Looks as if he was thrown out, all
right,” Barber remarked,

“It was a big machine,” said Kappesser.
“That’s a wide wheel base.”

They returned to the death spot in time
to see the coroner close his bag with
finality.

“Nothing much I can tell you,” was
Dr. Squire’s reply to their quizzical
glances. “No powder marks, yet he was
shot from close range. The slugs traveled
dead on a straight line. One struck him
near the left shoulder and lodged near
the heart. The second just missed the
spine and entered the upper chest cavity.
Internal hemorrhages caused death.”

“Know the gun caliber, Doc?” La
Forge inquired. :

The medical examiner pursed his. lips,
then said, “Thirty-two or thirty-eight, I
think, I’ll get him over to the Peekskill
morgue and send you the slugs as soon
as possible.”

Turning to Barber, La Forge: ordered,
“Snap a few good photos o the dead
man, Get his fingerprints too, Then the
doctor can be on his way.”

Shortly afterward, as.their fast patrol
car. sped toward the Hawthorne

- barracks, the sergeant declared, “We'll

need an identification before getting any-
where on this case.” :
“Got an idea, Charley?” Barber asked.

“There’s a chance he wasn’t heaved
from a car despite the evidence. If he was
on foot it’s a good bet he lives around
Peekskill somewhere. We'll flash his de-

‘scription and fingerprint classification to

all town police in Westchester and Put-
nam counties and see what happens.”

“And if he’s a stranger, the FBI’s
Washington office may have a record of
him,” amended Barber.

One hour later, Police Chief Harry
White of Putnam Valley strode into
Troop K headquarters. “About that un-
identified man,” he announced, “Maybe
I know something.”

“Shoot,” urged La Forge eagerly.

“Right after I got your flash, a woman
phoned me from Oscawana Corners. She
was worried about a young relative
named Raymond Pierce. She wanted to
know if any accident had been reported.
Pierce’s description tallies with that of
your victim.”

“Do you know Pierce, Chief?”

“For years. He’s a young garage me-
chanic from Cross Corners.”

La Forge yanked open a desk drawer
and shoved a sheaf of Barber’s death
scene photographs at White.

The latter’s scrutiny of them was only
momentary. “No mistake, That’s Ray
Pierce.”

La Forge sprang from behind the desk.

“Let's getsover to Oscawana,” he urged -

White and the two troopers.

Thirty m
mounted the
from which
and laughter

“A house
disgustedly.

When a:
White asked

When th:
saw the un
Shakily she

* of an upsta

“Somethi
managed to
“Try to
sergeant sé<
recognize
She took
“It’s Ray!
Trooper
a chair. Th
it’s much 1
murdered.’
The wo
slipped to
hands helc
“T realiz
tions und
sergeant
help. Whe
movemen'
call Chief
“T had
when Ra
here,” sh
“He's al
phoned |
wasn't th
get in tol
La Fo
mean a {
shot?”
“No, n
She was
called.”
The s
on the
before?”
“Yes.
married
wedding
The «
Was th
the ruth
mechan
aroused
of som¢
“Wh
deserte
tonight
The

“I’m s


‘stled around the
id of the hatchet
times. When I
e I got the coal-
ut on the floor.
own and got out

evidence to the
ed he had as-
He said he got
‘fore he left the
he cut the tele-
lowed him out

e said, “so I put
ok it along.”
iad breakfast at
had walked out
riving about 11

he walked back
tht to his room,
store.

I was out there
king about,” he
recognized me.”
urt immediately
Ity to murder in
earing the testi-
id after Revalle
ame story from
e had related to
ntenced on April
sonment in the
-¥y.
lle was granted
of sentence to a
> and was sub-
‘parole and re-
5. But the sex
led to live up to
nd was declared
35. He has not
ught will be re-
>» serve out his

wasn’t heaved
dence. If he was
he lives around
e’ll flash his de-
classification to
hester and Put-
at happens.”
ger, the FBI’s
lave a record of

e Chief Harry
ey strode into
‘About that un-
sunced, “Maybe

ge eagerly,
flash, a woman
na Corners, She
young relative
She wanted to
| been reported.
2s with that of

Chief?”
ing garage me-
rs.

1a desk drawer
Barber’s death
ute,

them was only
ce. That’s Ray

behind the desk.
vana,” he urged .
ders,

* of an upstairs room.

_sergeant said sympathetically. “Do you

ip st ewe Rak USE A MMII tale

Thirty minutes later the officers
mounted the porch of a modest home
from which issued the sounds of music
and laughter.

“A house party,” La Forge muttered
disgustedly. “I'll hate breaking it up.”

When a man opened the door Chief
White asked to see the lady of the house.

When the woman appeared and she
saw the uniformed men, she blanched.
Shakily she led them to the quiet privacy

“Something’s happened to Ray?” she
managed to ask fearfully.
“Try to take hold of yourself,” the

recognize the man in these pictures?”

She took one hasty glance and gasped,
“Tt’s Ray! There has been an accident!”

Trooper Barber gently helped her into
a chair. Then La Forge said, “I’m afraid
it’s much worse than that. Ray has been
murdered.”

The woman swayed and would have
slipped to the floor had not restraining
hands held her.

“I realize it’s dificult to answer ques-
tions under such circumstances,” the
sergeant said quietly. “But we need your
help. What do you know of Ray Pierce’s
movements tonight? And what made you
call Chief White?”

“T had a feeling something was wrong
when Ray didn’t show up at the party
here,” she began in a quavering voice.
“He’s always been very punctual. I
phoned his girl friend’s home, but he
wasn’t there. Then I thought I’d better
get in touch with Mr. White.”

La Forge frowned, then asked, “You
mean a girl was with him when he was
shot?”

“No, no. He never arrived at her home.
She was still waiting for him when I
called.”

The sergeant exhibited the ring found
on the death scene. “Ever see this
before?”

“Yes. Ray and his girl were to be

married shortly. That was to be their .

wedding ring.”

The officers exchanged quick glances.
Was the ring a token of the motive for
the ruthless slaying of the innocent young
mechanic? Had the young people’s love
aroused a murderous jealousy in the heart
of some spurned suitor?

“Why do you suppose Ray was in that
deserted section of Pump House road
tonight?” La Forge asked meaningly.

The victim’s relative seemed puzzled.
“T’m sure I don’t know.”

“Does he own a car?”

“Yes, A tan Auburn phaeton.”

“Did he use it tonight?”

“Tt don’t know. His parents might, or
the garage people where he works. He
generally keeps it there.”

La Forge strode to the nearby phone.
Seconds later he said into the mouthpiece,
“Just before the murdered man staggered
out of the dark toward you, you said
several cars passed you on Pump Prouse
road.”

“Yes,” was the reply.

“Think hard. Was one tan colored? An
Auburn phaeton?”

There was momentary silence, then,
“Why, yes! It sped past us like an express
train, swaying from side to side of the
road. Came mighty near hitting us. Sorry

I forgot to mention that before, Sergeant.
The murder drove everything else from
my mind.”

“What time was that?”

“Just after eight-thirty.”

“Notice who was in it?”

“No. It was going too fast.”

As the trooper hung up the receiver, he

said to Kappesser, “Funny he didn’t tell

ee ee

Greenwich, Conn,

Cou
Enclosed please find 25 cents

to the following address, with a car
SQUADS RIOT

SEND THESE HILARIOUS
MAGAZINES TO YOUR
PALS IN CAMP

These are grim days for our Soldiers, Sailors and Marines.
You can make things pleasanter for your pals in camp by
sending them one of the hilarious, fun-packed books shown
on this page. Crammed with the funniest of cartoons, fas-
cinating all-male stories, and beautiful photographs, these
books will be received with cheers and gratitude by any
man in the armed forces.

And they’re only 25 cents apiece!

No matter which book you choose—SQUADS RIOT,
HOOEY or WHIZ BANG ANNUAL—you can be sure,
that it will afford hours of much-needed entertainment for
your friends in uniform. Send one or more today and keep
?em laughing!

Just clip the coupon below and fill in the name and ad-
dress of the person to whom you want the book sent. Write
your own name at the bottom of the coupon. We do the rest.

We will send the book promptly, postpaid, together with
a note announcing who the gift is from. (If you prefer,
we will mail the book to you and you can enjoy it yourself
before sending it on to your service pal.) Take your pick:

SQUADS R1OT—Here’s a sure-fire gift for any doughboy! Edited and pub-
lished expressly for service men, this book is full of Army, Navy and Marine
cartoons, jokes and poetry. Also, swell stories for soldiers and a beautiful
photograph section titled ‘‘Gallery of Gals.’’ A riot of fun for everyone:

HOOEY—Here's a whirl of merriment from the ultra novel cover to the very
jast page. The cover, alone, will be a source of unending amusement to you and
your pals, presenting a bevy of beautiful James Trembath show gals whose
costumes do tricks when you rotate the cover. It’s a daring, dizzy delight! And
that describes the whole HOOEY!

WHIZ BANG ANNUAL-Dozens of the most rib-shattering, belly-laugh
cartoons ever collected between covers. America’s finest funny artists have
shot a brilliant barrage of rousing humor into WHIZ BANG, combining their
talents for drawing gorgeous gals and creating grand guffaws. And there are some
super special photos of lovely lassies with lovely chassis. Every page a treat!
ee oe moms ee ee eo

FMG-H-6 §

in money order, check or cash for the book (or books) I have checked below, Send it i

d announcing it’s from me. 1

(0 WHIZ BANG ANNUAL 0 HOOEY :

a

cavevebdaccddecdercccccssrccsceccsecresdasesanees ka Ge ccccces bela erindsctdescencecawroesgpaece’
1

were eeeeeeeeee caddie ese dnaaGevede cecceegaag nese seg ss Wecaeceooensesedsscesereen eens i
a

cocce ccc ccecebececcsascscevesccsees .]

cectivbaccedcdeccccvccccesdacccscovoseneeneece \

a

a udene dh odhgaustadeuepedevetaccsctecrsnccedveebnmannaawecstecreye rere.” © 1

a

69


me that when we mentioned cars before.
Seems to fit though. Auburns have wide
wheel bases.”

Addressing the grieving woman he
asked, “Know Pierce’s license number?”

“No,” she answered. .

“Get it’s full record from the bureau of
motor vehicles,” La Forge directed
Trooper Kappesser. “Then relay it to all
officers in the New England and Middle
Atlantic areas.”

Then he turned to Barber. “The BCI
will want to know about this. Ask Lieut.
Hageman to try tracing the gun when the
ballistic report comes through. Then try
to dig something worth while out of
Pierce’s parents and the garage people.”

After the troopers’ departure, the
sergeant turned again to his informant.
“I’ve been puzzled as to why you didn’t
get in touch with Pierce’s home when you
started to worry” he declared. “He may
have gone back there before calling for
the girl..”

“I was pretty sure he didn’t. When
Ralph Snell and Frank Craft got here,
Ralph said he’d given Ray a lift into
Peekskill this evening and dropped him
off near the garage.”

“Get them up here, Chief,” La Forge
directed.

Moments later, White escorted the two
husky youths into the room. Under the
keen scrutiny of the tall trooper they
seemed ill at ease.

“Ray Pierce has been murdered,” La
Forge said without preamble.

Case and Craft exchanged quick,
nervous looks. They remained silent.
“What time. did you drop him off in
Peekskill, Snell?”

“Why, about eight o’clock.”

“Did he mention where he was going in
particular?”

“No. I figured to the garage, judging
from where he asked to be let out.”

“You didn’t see him later?”

“No.”

“That is—not up close,” amended
Craft. ;

“What do you mean by that?” La Forge
inquired sharply.

“Well, after I left Ray,” Snell con-
tinued, “I drove out to a tavern on Sunset
Hill road to meet Frank here. We spent
over a half hour there. Just as we were
leaving, Pierce’s car flashed by, going like
the devil was after it.”

“That was a little after nine o’clock?”

Snell agreed.

“Did you get a look at the driver?”

“Sure. It was Ray Pierce. A fellow we
didn’t know was with him.”

“What time did you arrive here?”

“About nine-thirty.”

La Forge glanced at the listening
woman and Craft quizzically. Both
nodded. “Ralph’s telling the truth,
Officer,” stated the latter.

“Let's see your car owner’s license,
Snell,” the trooper ordered suddenly.

The youth, evidently puzzled, obeyed.
La Forge gave it a casual glance, then
handed it back. With a curt nod of thanks
he hurried from the house, followed by
Chief White.

Outside, La Forge flashed his electric
torch across the license tags of a half
dozen parked automobiles before he ex-
pressed satisfaction.

“The man who found Pierce declared
he saw the Auburn at eight-thirty,” he
explained, “We know Pierce was alread
wounded at'the time. Yet, Snell and Craft
say they saw him driving it a half hour
later. It doesn’t add up.” ;

“Maybe that’ tavern yarn is’ a phony,”
opined White. “I'll check on it later.

70

Seems as if somebody’s lying, or has an
awful poor conception of time.”

“Tf Snell and Craft are on the level,
they may have been mistaken,” said La
Forge earnestly. “That car was traveling
awfully fast. They may have just in-
stinctively associated it with Pierce.”

The sergeant tried a door of Snell’s car
and found it unlocked, “If they didn’t
bother to get rid of that gun—” he paused
reflectively.

For 15 minutes the two officers probed
every inch of the suspect’s machine. But
they -found no sign of the lethal weapon
or other evidence to link the youthful
owner to the slaying.

“T’ve just remembered something that
may be worth looking into,” White then
said. “This Snell has dated Pierce’s girl
pretty often in the past, to my knowledge.
Do you suppose he’s still interested?”

“Let’s make sure,” answered La Forge.

Soon afterward they confronted the
young woman at her houseboat home on
‘Annsville creek, near Peekskill. Although
her pretty face was lined with visible
grief, she answered their preliminary
questions intelligently, admitting that she
and Ray Pierce had planned an early
marriage.

“Did Ray have an enemy known to
you?”

The girl seemed startled. “Why, no. He
was well liked by everyone.”

“They always are,” La Forge observed
dryly. “Have you dated other men since
you and he reached an understanding?”

A flash of spirit crossed the girl’s eyes.
“Of course not! How dare you insinuate
such a thing!”

The sergeant held up a soothing hand.
“I’m sorry, but I must ask these ques-
tions. Now tell me, have any former
suitors tried to date you?”

The young woman lowered her gaze
and flushed. “Yes.”

“But you refused. Was Ralph Snell one
of them?”

The girl nodded.

“He tried to come between you and
Pierce several times, didn’t he?”

“Yes, I used to see him regularly before
I met poor Ray. I thought a lot of Ralph
and he knew it. But after I met Ray I
lost all thought of anyone else. I guess
Ralph was too blind to see it.”

“Vet Pierce and Snell never quarreled
over the situation?”

“Why, no. They seemed to be good
friends,”

“I wonder,” thought La Forge. Aloud
he asked, “Anyone’ else resent your
attachment to Pierce?”

Thoughtfully, the girl answered, “I
doubt it. No one else éver had more than
one or two casual dates with me.”

“I suppose you’re sure that Ray has
been just as faithful to you—that he
didn’t keep a rendezvous with a girl to-
night who may have resented his coming
marriage to you?”

The girl’s face went white. But she
staunchly replied, “I’d swear that isn’t
so!’

The two officers then departed. As they
drove toward the Hawthorne barracks,
Chief White said, “Snell seems to be our
only prospect.”

“You mean he shammed friendliness
with Pierce until he got him in the right
spot?”

“Yes, Jealousy seems to be the answer
to this riddle, doesn’t it?”

“1 don’t know,” said La Forge. “So far,
we haven’t got a real case against Snell
or anyone else.”

At troop headquarters, La Forge an¢é
White learned that Trooper _Kappesser

‘had .completed the check-up of the

vietim’s tax Auburn phaeton.

“Tt’s a 1929 model,” he declared. “New
York plates 3D 61-13, motor 23295. When
Barber phoned in that it was missing
from the Peekskill garage and Pierce’s
home, I had a Maine to Virginia alarm
flashed on it.”

“If Craft and Snell ditched the car it
can’t be far away,” said White, rising to
leave. “I’ll see what I can do about locat-
ing it, and check on their tavern alibi,
too.”

“Heard from Lieutenant Hageman
yet?” La Forge asked Kappesser.

“He and Bill Adams and some of the
other BCI men are checking pawnshops
in and around Peekskill. Ballistics says
the slugs were fired from a thirty-two

Colt revolver.”

Soon afterward Trooper Barber strode
into the office. “We've got another sus-
pect, Sergeant,” he stated with a trace of
excitement.

“Let’s have it.”

“Pierce’s folks say he gave some fellow
an awful walloping last week. The garage
people back up the story.”

La Forge leaned forward impatiently.
“What were they fighting about?”

“No one knows for sure. Pierce refused
to talk about it. But they all think it was
girl trouble. Seems that the guy made a
rotten remark about her, and Pierce
resented it.”

“The girl again! Who is this man ?””

“Works off and on as a caddie at the
Hollow Brook country club. Lives on
Decatur avenue, Peekskill. About 20 years
old, thin and small in stature. Has a habit
of talking out of the side of his mouth.
Name’s Peter Mohlsick.”

“Wasn’t home, eh?”

“Not since yesterday.”

HEN reports filtered in from Tarry-

town and Yonkers farther down
the state. Traffic officers recalled seeing
the missing car, with two male occupants,
shortly before the “stop” alarm reached
them.

“They're probably in New York City
by now,” Kappesser declared. “It’s well
patroled. We should get results soon.”

“That seems to let Craft and Snell out
of the picture,” sighed La Forge.

The office telephone jangled. The
sergeant heard Lieut. Edward Hage-
man’s voice at the other end of the wire,

“We may have a lead on that gun,” the
BCI detective declared. “Only one thirty-
two Colt revolver was sold in Peekskill
in the last month, That was yesterday
afternoon.”

ant name and address did the buyer

ive?”

“We checked on that. Both phony. The’

guy was young, about nineteen or twenty.
Small and scrawny looking.”

“And talked out of the side of his
mouth!” La Forge exclaimed.

“Right. But how did you know that?”

“He's our man, Lieutenant. Peter
Mohlsick! I’ll send a couple of men to
watch his house. He may try to double
back there.”

But before any success could be reg-
istered on the local front, New York
City’s Chinatown entered the picture.

In the hours before dawn, Chinatown’s
garish melange of sound and light had
faded drowsily. Only a few late strag-
glers, respectable Oriental restaurant
workers and homeless white alcoholics,
continued to give the melancholy scene
a trace of life.

A police prowl car, manned by officers
of New York’s, second detective division,
crawled slowly between the elevated pil-
lars of Chatham: Square and parked near

the intersection of Oliver street.

John Kelly,
forehead irrital
he said with fe

“Tf you ask 1
js twice as be
another plaincl

Joseph Grin:
restlessly. “Ca

interrupted hi
Kain snatch
turning alert
speaker. Lear
of the dashbo
“Wanted fc
with homicic
voice. “By
Occupants ©
New York p
Wanted for
Kain shov
call,” he m
the fourth
night.” ;
Grinze sig
Nothing for
Kelly’s s°
arm silence
snapped. “
ahead.”
“A tan
Grinze. “C
“No. Tk
front—hey
the rear t
Kelly. a
wheel. Hi
car’s othe:
vanced 01
chine, eac
service Tr¢
When °
their que
swung a
swiit gla
his comp
heedless
“Stop!
the fugi
Disreg
raced 01
he snap
the run
Imme
dash an
and kn
cuffs s)
“You
when }
“T wo
The
patted
Peerin
first t
like y‘
guts t
The
“Ok
his Pp
static


clared. “New
23295. When
was missing
and Pierce’s
irginia alarm

ed the car it
lite, rising to
» about locat-
tavern alibi,

it Hageman
vesser.

some of the
g pawnshops
allistics says
a thirty-two

3arber strode
another sus-
ith a trace of

: some fellow
. The garage

impatiently,
about?”
‘ierce refused
think it was
guy made a
and Pierce

is man?”

caddie at the
b. Lives on
bout 20 years
_ Has a habit
f his mouth.

from Tarry-
ther down
called seeing
le occupants,
arm reached

v York City
‘d. “It’s well
ults soon.”
ind Snell out
orge.
ngled. The
ward Hage-
of the wire.
hat gun,” the
ly one thirty-
in Peekskill
as yesterday

lid the buyer

1 phony. The’
2n or twenty.

side of his

know that?”
nant. Peter
e of men to
ry to double

ould be reg-
New York
e picture,
Chinatown’s
id light had
- late strag-
restaurant
e alcoholics,
icholy scene

d by officers
tive division,
elevated pil-
parked near
“eet.

John Kelly, the driver, mopped his
forehead irritably. “This heat is awful,”
he said with feeling.

“Tf you ask me, the smell around here
is twice as bad,” laughed Harry Kain,
another plainclothesman.

Joseph Grinze, last of the trio, fidgeted
restlessly. “Can’t you change the sub-
ject?” he growled. “You've been at it all
night.”

The squeal of the car’s short wave radio
interrupted him.

Kain snatched up the radio report form,
turning alert attention to the loud-
speaker. Leaning forward under the rays
of the dashboard light, he began to write.

“Wanted for questioning in connection
with homicide,” rasped the announcer’s
voice. “By state police at Hawthorne.
Occupants of 1929 tan Auburn phaeton.
New York plates 3D 61-13. Motor 23295.
Wanted for questioning—”

Kain shoved the board aside. “Same old
call,” he muttered disgustedly. “That’s
the fourth time we've received it to-
night.”

Grinze sighed. “Hit and run, I suppose.
Nothing for us to do.”

Kelly’s strong grip on the speaker’s
arm silenced him, “Hold on,” the driver
snapped. “Take a gander at that load up
ahead.”

“A tan Auburn phaeton!” exclaimed
Grinze. “Can you see the plates?”

“No. There’s two men standing in
front—hey! They’re trying to pry open
the rear trunk!”

Kelly. quickly slipped from under the
wheel. His co-officers followed on the
car’s other side. Then they cautiously ad-
vanced on the rear of the mystery ma-
chine, each tugging at the handle of his

service revolver.

When they were within a few feet of
their quarry, one of the men suddenly
swung about suspiciously. Giving them a
swift glance, he murmured something to
his companion and sped across the square,
heedless of traffic.

“Stop!” shouted Kelly, sprinting after
the fugitive. “Stop or I'll plug you!”

Disregarding the warning, the man
raced on. The detective’s gun barked as
he snapped a trial shot deliberately over
the runaway’s head.

Immediately the man halted his mad

dash and dropped cringingly to his hands

and knees. A moment later, steel hand- -

cuffs snapped around his thin wrists.

“You're lucky you decided to stop
when you did,” the panting Kelly stated.
“T wouldn’t have missed again.”

The first pocket the cautious detective
patted yielded a 32 caliber Colt revolver.
Peering intently at his prisoner for the
first time, Kelly snapped, “What's a kid
like you doing with this? Didn’t have the
guts to use it, did you?”

The sullen youth remained silent.

“Okay, tough boy,” said Kelly, shoving
his prisoner forward, “Jet’s get to the
station house. I see my buddies natbhed
your pal.”

Later, in a small upstairs room of the
Elizabeth street station house, Kelly,
Grinze and Kain watched over the two
youths in long, hard-eyed silence.

Then the door opened and Detective
Capt. Fred Zwirz, divisional commander,
entered, “I’ve just been in touch with the
Hawthorn barracks,” he announced,

Pointing at the smaller of the two
prisoners, he stated, “You're Peter
Mohlsick.”

The latter did not answer.

“What’s your name?” Zwirz asked the
second youth.

“Howard Eickler.”

“You, Mohlsick, killed Raymond Pierce,
didn’t you?” %

Mohlsick glared hotly but maintained
silence.

“You may as well come clean. The state
police say that the gun we found on you
probably is the one that killed Pierce.
Ballistics can prove it for certain.”

“Okay, I killed him,” Mohlsick snarled
out of the side of his mouth. “So what?”

“You certainly don’t sound sorry about

“Sorry? Why should I be sorry?”

Mohlsick then declared that he and
Eickler had asked Pierce for a lift on
North Division street, Peekskill. When
the now slain man agreed, he got in the
front seat and Eickler in the rear.

He produced the murder weapon when
they got to lonely Pump House road, and
ordered Pierce to turn over his money
and the car. After braking the machine,
the driver leaped out and tried to escape.
Mohlsick fired three shots.

“T knew I got him because he screamed
and fell,” the killer said calmly. “I knew
he’d die.”

prten relieving the wounded man of
cash and valuables, the youthful ban-
dits then sped toward New York by little
traveled roads. They planned to abandon
the murder car in Chatham Square after
forcing the rear trunk on a chance they
might find something to pawn.

“What was your motive for killing
Pierce?” asked Capt. Zwirz.

“T never had any use for the guy,” the
cold-blooded killer snarled viciously. “It
was my chance to get even for that beat-
ing he gave me awhile ago. I told -him
there was no hard feelings, so the sap
believed it and let us into the car. Be-
sides we wanted it for some jobs.”

“What kind of jobs?”

“Stickups.”

“What were you toting that piece of
lead pipe for, Eickler?”

The tall, bronzed youth fidgeted under
the captain’s wintry stare. “T was going
to sock Pierce with it ifhe put upa fight,”
he said weakly. “I never got a chance to
use it.”

Both declared that unemployment,
idleness and the monotony of life in their
small home town induced them to sample
the dubious returns of “big-time” crime.

Impressed by the outlaw sagas of the

Middle West, they decided to trace the |

nefarious path mapped out by the late
John Dillinger and other ill-starred lumi-
naries of recent crime annals.

“We planned to stick up another car
in New York and head for Chicago,”
Mohlsick concluded impassively. “We
were going to do it as often as necessary,
ditching the cars when they got too hot.”

Shortly afterward, three troopers es-
corted the youthful badmen to White
Plains, seat of Westchester county. They
were lodged in Eastview jail.

The following day they were qués-
tioned by Medical Examiner Squire, Dis-
trict Attorney Walter A. Ferris, and his
chief assistant, Elbert Gallagher, and
waived examination,

‘The trial of the would-be Dillingers
began on Sept. 10, in county superior

court. The state’s case, ably handled by
Assistant District Attorney William F.
Horan, was so conclusive that they were
adjudged guilty in record time.

The following week County Judge Wil-
liarn Nolan sentenced them to death. On
the night of Nov. 7, Peter Mohlsick and
Howard Eickler met a grim and just fate

for their first and last crime in the elec-
tric chair at Sing Sing prison.

(To protect the identities of innocent persons the
names Ralph Snell and Frank Craft as used. in
this story are fictitious. —Ed.)

The same Imported
Briar you've -.
always smoked |

Billiard shape

Vou sir, it’s an IMPERIAL. No substitute
woods, no artificial wood graining on the
surface, but as ever made of that fine imported

‘Mediterranean briar though hardly any has

come to America now for two years. We can
still give you this sweetest-smoking, best-
tasting, most dependable of all pipe woods,
because we have enormous stocks, being the
world’s largest pipe makers. As long as we
have it, you get it. At the same old IMPERIAL
price (since 1933) $1.50! Even “a beginner”
will find that IMPERIAL gives him a mild,
gentle smoke—because it has the exclusive
IMPERIAL Honey-Treatment (real honey, in
the bowl, makes first smoke mild, and
keeps mellowing the pipe as you smoke it).

© 1942, KAUFMANN BROS, & BONDY INC., 630 FIFTH AVE., N.T.

en

See the
Curved shapes

-_
e

Imagine bein
able to get a fea
imported briar _ these

i: See the
days for only $1! That's

Apple shapes
what you get in Yello-Bole with

en
Keg! ie
the exclusive Yello-Bole Honey

Treatment. Pipe illustrated: Dublin

‘YELLO-BOLE ‘I.

* All Yello-Boles are
made of Imported Briar”

71


Deputy beriff Bepbam sidjusted the tatel |
peter and drew the binck cap over bis face,” A
: lt are tad on tt ss ga sero |
o'clook a. sm, tee rgigt fell and Righmoy was :

ia) Telet wis hs wrvaghg, At siz win.


sidered, dropped the
his hands.

sneered the holdup
’s that fifty bucks?”
- that much.”
.d thug, his features
y leer, waved the pair
en he stepped around
d up to the cash reg-
the “No Sale” lever.

DYNAMIC

The drawer sprang open, revealing a pile
of bills.

“No dough, eh?” he laughed. “Well,
ll just take care of this.”

So saying, he scooped the money out
with his free hand and shoved it into
the empty coat pocket. Then, threading
his way to the door, he dashed out.

A motor roared and racing tires
whirled a shower of dirt and gravel in the

DETECTIVE

Victim of a cold-
blooded killer was
Paul Skaritza, right.
genial musician
whose generosity in
picking up hitch-
hikers led to his death
at the hands of mys-
terious assassins.


{+9

ELL

Al

1G, Harold Joseph, wh, elec. NY (NY) March !

AHE car slid to a stop outside the
diner in the village of , Vestal,
near Binghamton, N. Y. It was

4:45 a. m.

“The breakfast trade is starting early,”
the counterman remarked to the short-
order cook.

The cook got up wearily and lighted
the gas under the old-fashioned coffee pot.

The sliding door whirled open and a
medium-sized, hatless youth with a shock
of blond hair drooping across one eye
strolled in. He wore a gray tweed sports
coat, his right hand deep into the pocket

ty

‘and leveled menac-

ingly. “I want fifty
bucks!” he snarled.
“And no kidding !”
The counterman glanced down at the
coat pocket and thought he saw the out-
line of a gun. He raised his hands.
From out of the cubby-hole the cook
came ‘rushing with a long carving knife.
“A stick-up, eh?” he rasped, waving
the knife. F
The bandit was undaunted by this dis-
play of belligerence. He raised the coat
pocket even higher.

DYNAMIC DETECTIVE,
June, 1942

The cook reconsidered, dropped the
knife and elevated his hands.

“That’s better!” sneered the holdup
man. “Now where’s that fifty bucks ?”

“We haven’t got that much.”

The blond-haired thug, his features
warped into an ugly leer, waved the pair
into a corner. Then he stepped around
the counter, backed up to the cash’ reg-
ister and pushed the “No Sale” lever.

DYNAMIC

whirle
DETI


le ata


CUTION 2) ae
Stipe ‘ans Auk Pert tees not
wa, Wega. Baste s:

inlay Fomowed the |
Righusey. Utes securing bitin the
freedom. Mis joy war un”
J Je danced Gnd: capersd “atout for
feat. frisky cult, Ab. additional

the Bev. Mr, Bailey. of Can.
yaad the eveuitig wre
ene

restless, bet dravety said be
litele trouble. as pomible,’ He.
tienda aM. and slept well until

pee. Abou 6 A. M be dressed
after bething aad arrangiog his:
‘Ma bitte and devoned ton mit.

wad » determination to bebrave
mt, BF. Webeter, the party re:

a] Kaghwey's coatemion, asked wl:
(witness the execution end @ tike’ |
bho Webster’ was ereampa nics:
oral friend; whe vised |

F etioeed Ghent shi date |
ee Ce Pe Bate a

t wore? ink wiled tor. Me OF
. My Welter eppeared batere bho.
ag vintoralin 1 bie bnod end bet upon he,
Ee He =


SHE KISSED pes

TOO HARD

(Continued from Page 20K.

other highway and stood waiting
for a car going north.

He could have kicked himself for
running away from that trooper.
He had gotten out of more
difficult situations. But it wasn’t
going to bother him. He felt big
again, the fear was gone They
would never be able to trace him
and once he was out west he would
be safe forever.

Trooper Atkin had been startled
when the boy ran away. He wasn’t
serious when he had accused the
boy of stealing the car. He didn’t
look the type, and had no _ in-
tentions of shooting. But the boy
had been scared. After Atkin re-
ported the car to headquarters,
Sergeant George Flagg met him
and drove the car to the station.

THE following afternoon, at the
K Barracks at Hawthorne —
Trooper Atkin’s headquarters, a re-
port came through the teletype
that a murdered man had been
found.

The body had already been
identified as that of Paul Skaritza,
the trombonist in Paul Krisch’s
band, and a fairly well-known
musician.

Inspector Howard W. Nugent of
the Bureau of Criminal Investiga-
tion for Troop K caught the name.
“Paul Skaritza? Remember that
car Trooper Atkin picked up last
night — we checked its plates this
morning and found the car be-
longs to a Paul Skaritza!”

Up to that moment, the boy who
had run away was only suspected
of car theft. Now it seemed as if
his crime might be more serious.
Within a few minutes Inspector
Nugent was headed for Binghamton
and Captain James A. Gaffney,
Commander of the Troop, was
organizing, his Yorktown troopers
to locate anyone who might have
seen the fleeing youth.

The car and the _half-burned
contents of the dashboard compart-
ment were given a _ thorough
technical investigation by Sergeant
Boyle, head of criminal technicians
for K Barracks.

At the headquarters for Troop C
which. had the territory around
Binghamton where the car was
found, Inspector Nugent found
Inspector Ernest ‘Maynard, in
charge of the BCI for that troop,
interrogating the sister of the
murdered man, who had _ just
identified the body. ;

44

Skaritza’s body had been found
on that isolated country road by
Mr. Melvin Whitney who was
taking a Sunday afternoon walk
with his wife and five year old
son. The body lay twisted among
the bushes but with enough of it
showing to be visible to any
passer-by. After Whitney had
convinced himself that the man
was not simply drunk, he called
Troop C headquarters.

Within a few minutes Troopers
Tom Hastings and Joe Nolan
arrived at the scene, closely follow-
ed by Inspector Maynard and the
coroner for Broome County, A. J.
Stillson. It didn’t take them long
to identify the body as Paul
Skaritza as he had been playing
frequently with the band in that
area.

Coroner Stillson reported that
the man had been dead for about
three days at least. The bullet
wound in the back of the skull was
the cause of death. As thé bullet
had gone through the head and
probably was buried somewhere in
the earth, Inspector Maynard
ordered some of his troopers to
look for the missing bullet.

While they were searching,
Inspector Maynard located the
mother and sister of Skaritza and
brought them to headquarters.

When Inspector Nugent walked
in, Maynard was just about finish-
ed with the questioning. He hadn’t
learned much. According to his
sister, Skaritza was a mild man,
never involved in any _ trouble.
When he hadn’t come home that
night, his sister checked with the
band in Binghamton where .he had
gone to play, They said he had
been there that night for the
concert and left immediately when
it was over, about eleven o’clock.

After Maynard and Nugent were
alone, Nugent informed the other
inspector about the young boy who
had been found in Skaritza’s car
burning some papers.

“Looks to me,” concluded
Nugent, “that this boy is the kill-
er. We have a fair description of
him from Trooper Atkin. He’s
pretty small, blond wavy hair, and
a high-pitched voice. Another thing’
Atkins noticed — around his mouth
was the imprint in lipstick of a
girl’s mouth. Atkin said that there
was no girl with him.”

“In which direction was the car
facing?” Maynard asked.

“North — away from New York
City. As far as T can reconstruct

the killer's movements, he hoaded
for New York City after doing
away with Skaritza, had himself a
good time for a couple of days
with Skaritza’s money and car .. .”

“Skaritzn didn’t have much
money .on him, according to his
sister. But he had his - trombone
which I understand was a pretty
valuable instrument. Could be that
his killer pawned it,” Inspector
Maynard added

“Good angle!” Nugent exclaimed.
“T’ll see that my men check every
pawnshop in New York City.
They’re covering Westchester
County now and Sergeant Boyle is
taking prints from the car but, as
you know, they’re usually too
smudged to be of any use.”

“These hitch-hike killings are
tough,” Maynard said. “I bet it
will be darn hard to find anyone
who saw this boy with Skaritza.”

INSPECTOR Maynard was right.
The troopers were unable to turn
up anybody who had seen the two
men together. But they found the
bullet that had gone through the
musician’s head. It was a_ .88
calibre, steel-jacketed bullet. At-
tempts to identify the gun used to
fire it, however, were futile.

Then Trooper Bill Howe located
the trombone in the pawnshop at
42nd Street and Eighth Avenue.
Unfortunately no clear description
could be gotten from the pawn-
broker as many musicians came in
and out of the place pawning
instruments and he _ paid no
particular attention .to them. The
instrument was pawned under the
name of Richard Calle, which the
police realized was a phony name.

The discovery of the trombone
placed the murderer in New York
City after his crime. But his
movements before that time or
after it, his identity or his present
whereabouts remained in the dark
at the end of the week. No clear
fingerprints were gotten from the
car. The murder of Paul Skaritza
looked as though it was going to
remain unsolved.

Then one morning of the follow-
ing week Inspector Nugent was
sitting in his office going over the
final report from Sergeant Boyle
which consisted mainly of the half-
charred remains of the papers
Elling had burned.

“It’s too bad they’re not much
help,” Sergeant Boyle said. “The
rain doused the fire before they
were thoroughly consumed and you
can still make out what’s. on
them.”

Inspector Nugent looked them
over again. Letters, music scores,
an almost. completely destroyed
picture of the Krisch Band with
Skaritza in the back row and then
— a piece of paper covered by
phone numbers some of which had
been burned away.

.

Nugent had aw huneh and he get
to work on it right away. He con-
tacted Inspector Maynard and ask-
ed him to find out from Paul
Skaritza’s sister when he had last
been to New York and who his
acquaintances were there.

Then he called Captain Gaffney
into his office. “If my hunch is
right,” he said to him, “you and
T are going to take a trip to New
York City. That Skaritza killer was
a little too passionate for his orn
good. That lipstick mark on hia
face is going to lead us right to
him!”

Two weeks later, in Salt Lake
City, the confident killer, Harold

-Elling, was standing at the corner

of two residential streets. His
smug look added a_ perverse
maturity to his childish face.

His hitch-hike out of West-
chester County had lead him to
Chicago where he joined up with a
former inmate of the Idaho
penitentiary. Their alliance had re-
sulted in a series of stick-ups that
proved lucrative and the money
was spent in gay abandon in night
clubs from Chicago to New York
and back again west. He had now
decided to go it alone and was
planning to head for California.
But he needed a car.

That’s why he was standing on
this residential street in Salt Lake
City. He had spotted a powerful
auto that fitted his needs in front
of a_ well-to-do home. For an
hour he had been waiting fer the
coast to clear so he could get in
the car, short-circuit the juice so
he wouldn’t need the key, and get
away. He was getting restless and
had just about made up his mind
to look for an easier catch when
he heard the siren of a police car.

THE old fear overtook him. He
had not forgotten his enceunter
with Trooper Atkin. As he saw
two cops get out of the car and
walk toward him, the first impuise
was to run. He_ checked thia
realizing they could have nothing
on him, and stood his ground. His
innocent look would stall them
off if nothing else did.

“Okay, get into the car,” one of
the policemen said to him. “We
got a report that you’ve been eye-
ing that car over there for more
than an hour. Wouldn’t be wanting
to steal it, would you?”

Elling didn’t look. annoyed. He
had been a good boy in Salt Lake
City, not even a stick-up. In the
detective room at headquarters,
Detectives Frank Ryan and George
Belton questioned him with no
success for half an hour. They were
about to dismiss him when, carry-
ing a poster that had been received
a week before, Chief of Police E.
Vetterli walked in.

He walked straight up to Elling
and asked, “Give us your name

a asset

Country road where body of Skaritza was found in his partly-burned car after police had let killer get away.

Iie was a murderer. He was no
longer. in the category of small
time punks, he was a big man now!
He had committed the perfect
crime,

Reaching into the car, he took
out a flashlight from the dash-
board compartment. He threw the
rays on the dead man, noticed one
bullet hole in his head. He made
sure he had left no clues to be
picked up, kicked the body into a
clump of bushes, and got into the
car.

He was headed for New York in
a powerful car with a note in his
pocket that gave him perfect, right
to it if any cop dared to question
him. Pauline was: waiting for him.
He had met her on the coast. They
had danced terrifically together.
When she told him she was leaving
for New York, he promised he
would meet her there. They’d cop
some swell prizes up in Harlem.
He ran his fingers through his
blond, wavy hair thinking of the
night to come.

Money was necessary to get new
clothes. A brand new murderer
couldn’t go around looking in-
significant, He remembered the
wallet he had gotten from his
victim and opened it under the
lights of the dashboard as he was
driving. It contained three dollars.

He nearly stopped the car in his
anger. Then as he saw headlights
approaching him, he decided it
would be a wise move to get rid of
any of his victim’s belongings be-
fore he reached New York. He
turned the light on and on the
back seat he saw a trombone case.
Quickly leaning over the driver’s
seat he opened the case and found

20

a carefully polished, expensive-
looking trombone. His spirits rose
again, positive he could get at
least fifity dollars for it in New
York. Already imagining how he
would spend that money, -he for-
got about the man he had just
murdered and whose body he had
left on that lonely country road.
On 42nd Street and Eighth
Avenue, the next morning, Elling
entered a pawn shop with a trom-
bone and went out a few minutes
later with fifty dollars. He headed
for a nearby second hand clothes
store and bought himself a flashy
suit and a loud tie which he felt
becoming to a man in his position.
Now all he had to do was to
find Pauline Smoot, the girl with
whom he was anticipating spend-
ing the evening. He knew she
worked in a restaurant somewhere
in the vicinity of 189th Street and
Third Avenue in the Bronx. He
copied all the numbers of restau-
rants in that area from the classi-
fied book and one by one began to
call them, asking for Pauline.
Finally he was successful.
Pauline was delighted to hear
from him and at five o’clock he
picked her up at her job and the
two headed for Harlem For the
next two days and nights they
lived a continual round of dancing
and drinking. Pauline didn’t go to
work. She was having a wonder-
ful time with this newly matured,
confident boy friend. .

THEN on the third morning
Elling showed signs of fatigue. He
became nervous and jittery and in-
sisted on buying all the news-
papers. Bleary-eyed from lack of

sleep, he scanned the columns try-
ing to discover if the body was
found, if he had made any mistake.
He felt he had to get away by
himself for a while. So he drove
Pauline back to her rooming house
where she kissed him good-bye
passionately, leaving the imprint
of her full red lips on his mouth.

He headed for the Bronx River
Parkway, and turned off the Park-
way before he got to the Mount
Kisco Dam. Near Yorktown, he
pulled off Highway (129 and
stopped the motor. He _ hadn't
noticed that it was raining hard.
The discovery pleased him — there
wouldn’t be many cars on the
road. He opened the dashboard
compartment and pulled out all the
papers he found there. Compliment-
ing himself that he had thought
of this before it was too late, he
lit a match and set fire to the last
remaining evidence that could
connect him with the murdered
man. The smoke choked him and
he rolled down the window to
throw the burning papers out.

Then it happened...

A voice spoke to him, “Anything
wrong?”

Elling was petrified. He felt
himself unable to move but it
wasn’t necessary for him to move,
to turn and look. He had too many
years experience not to recognize,
if only by voice, a cop. He remind-
ed ‘himself that he had committed
the perfect crime, that there was
no way of this cop knowing what
he had done. So he turned around
and faced Trooper S. L. Atkin of
the State Police “No — nothing’s
wrong, thanks anyway.”

It was a dark, wet night . and

Trooper Atkin felt sociable. “Fire
won’t last long in a downpour like
this,” he said.

Elling’s wish to have this cop
far away didn’t come through as
he said pleasantly, “well — that’s
not too important. I was just
finally getting around to throwing
out some old papers and other
junk that has been lying around.”

Trooper Atkin’s police instinct
returned. “So you just wanted to
get rid of some old papers? How
about letting me see your driver’s
license and car registration!”

Once again Elling wasn’t able. to
move or speak. His mind was
drawing all the energy from his
body. Mad thoughts were over
powering him. He wanted to show
the cop his note from Purdy, but
suddenly he realized that this
might be no good. Purdy could re-
veal his identity. The Trooper
waited impatiently and then said,
“This is a stolen car, isn’t it?”

Then Elling got the use of his
body back again. He slid to the
other side of the seat, opened the
door, and crawled a few feet on
his hands and knees. Then he
picked himself up and ran through
the rain into the woods. From be-
hind him came the voice of the
trooper, “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

No bullet came after him and
Elling didn’t stop. Finally when he
realized that there was nobody
following him and his breath had
given out, he stopped. When he
was breathing easily again, he
walked through the woods to an-

_ (Continued on Page 44)


The youthful killer handcuffed and about to be taken to his

cell after his confession accepts his fate with stolid indifference.


saeebescalen, sacar

?

+

we

again.”

Elling pretended to be annoyed.
“For the hundredth time — James
Wallace.”

Comfortably sitting himself
down in a chair opposite Elling,
Chief Vetterli said, “I will tell
you your name since you don’t
seem to remember it. It is Harold
Elling.” The Chief showed Elling
the poster with his picture and
then added, “You are wanted in
New York for murder.”

Elling felt dizzy. How was it
possible that they found out? He
wouldn’t believe it. He hadn’t made
any slip-ups; he hadn’t left any-
thing behind for the cops to get
hold of. Then he saw the face of
Chief Vetterli before him and he
pulled himself together.

“Me — a killer? For stealing a
car makes more sense. But ME a
killer?” Elling turned his baby-
blue eyes on the Chief.

The Chief had to admit that he
didn’t look like a killer but he
wasn’t the one to judge. Two days
later Inspector Maynard walked
into the same room and Elling was
brought from his cell to meet him.

“Well I suppose you'd like to
know how we caught up with
you?” Maynard said. “There’s no
doubt you were clever enough, but
you didn’t wipe your mouth off
after your New York celebration.
Trooper Atkin saw that lipstick.”

“You’re crazy,” Elling _ said,
stunned.

“But your biggest slip-up was
not completely burning up that slip
of paper with the phone numbers
on it. Those numbers were for New
York City — and Skaritza didn’t
know anybody in New York City
— nobody who worked in a

restaurant anyway. You, knew
Pauline, though. And we found her.
Luckily she had a_ very nice
picture of you which we showed to
the pawnbroker. He says you’re
the man that pawned Skaritza’s
trombone the day he was murder-
ed. And Trooper Atkin says you’re
the man that ran away from him
when he found you burning the
papers in Skaritza’s car.”

Elling didn’t feel cocky any
longer. That was too much evidence
for him to squirm out of. How
could he have possibly gotten those
numbers mixed up with that guy’s
papers? Why had he given Pauline
a picture of himself. It was too late
to think about that now. He could
only own up to the fact that he
was a murderer and let the cops

-give him credit for it. The cop had

said he was clever, didn’t he?

But it didn’t matter any more
what they thought of him —
whether he was a big shot or not.
So he confessed to Skaritza’s
murder and to all his other crimes.

And on March 4, 1948, Harold
Elling was dragged through the
little green door at Sing Sing
where he was to die. In last
minute atonement he kissed the
crucifix passionately as the
Reverend Bernard M. Martin, the
prison chaplain, performed the
service. . ;

His life was at an end three
minutes later.

~-THE END—

YOU READ IT IN

GOD TOLD
ME TO
CONFESS

(Continued from Page 25)

Howard L. Brumme of the Seward
Avenue Baptist Church, to Holton,
Kansas and confessed to County At-
torney Donald L. Sands that he had
participated in the hold-up of the
Hoyt State Bank four years before.

The 6 foot, 4 inch 230 pound
young man, father of a 5-month-
old son, declared that “God told me
to confess.” He said he had thought
about the robbery in the interven-
ing years and finally asked God
for guidance when it began to dis-
turb him increasingly in the past
few months. “God only had one an-
swer for me and that was to give
myself up,” the young man told
Jackson County officials, pushing his
dark, curly hair back from his fore-
head,

AFTER giving his confession to
County officials, Johnson, still ac-
companied by his spiritual leader,
went to the Hoyt State Bank and
gave Orion Williams $315, the rest
of his share of the robbery money.
He had previously sent the bank
a $20 bill, The money for repay-
ment had been borrowed from his
friends in Topeka after the young
man decided to give himself up.

Al Johnson was released on
$5,000 bond, put up by Forest Lind-
sey, a Topeka businessman who is
also a member of the Seward Aven-

. PRIP-M &

“I'M GETTING SO | DREAD FIVE O'CLOCK!"

ue Baptist Church. Lindsey said
the Reverend Brumme had gotten

-him interested in Johnson’s case

and that he had agreed to post
bond when the young man made his
confession and was arrested

Free on bail, the professed rob-
ber made a public statement be-
fore the church congregation on
Sunday morning, May 4th. The
statement was broadcast over the
radio and television cameras were
grinding busily as Johnson, sweat-
ing in his gray gabardine suit,
told the members of the church and
the citizens of Topeka how he had
robbed the bank and how his faith
in God and His guidance had caused
him to make his confession.

Johnson’s wife, Beth, sat quietly
by while her husband spoke. He
said that she lad not attempted to
influence him either way but that
she was Satisfied with the action
he had decided to take. Johnson
joined the church shortly after his
marriage and would like to become
a minister and a leader in the
Youth for Christ movement in the
church,

Jeff and Orion Williams and
Thomas Pettijohn, the three men
who had given the FBI descrip-
tions of the bank robbers at the
time of the crime, said that John-
son did not resemble any of the
bandits, but after four years Orion
Williams was not so certain of his
identification of Wasson and Tur-
low, the ex-convicts killed in the
car crash shortly after the hold-up.

Johnson declared that these two
men had not participated in the
hold-up with him. He named David
Williams, 52, as one of the robbers,
Williams denied having had any
partin the crime. Hesaid: “I didn’t
do it and I don’t think Al Johnson
did it either.” Williams, «4 small
man, now crippled by arthritis, is
working as a nursing home atten-
dant. He was released recently from
the Kansas state penitentiary after
serving a two-year term for rob-
bery. His description did not match
any of those originally given of
the hold-up men.

THE name of the third man who
had allegedly been in on the bank
stick-up with Williams and Johnson
was not publicized at this time, but
Johnson said he would reveal it at

- some future date.

Johnson seemed familiar with the
details of the robbery. He said he
bought a second-hand car with his
share of the loot.

The Reverend Brumme said: “I’m
sure we’ve got the right man in
the right robbery.” He revealed that
he had known for several weeks
that Johnson was considering con-
fessing and had discussed the mat-
ter with County Attorney Sands
and Sheriff Ernest White without
revealing the man’s name.

White and Sands were convinced
that Johnson was the long-sought
robber and had eagerly awaited for
him to give himself up.

45


a

ery ea

eo

upon the theory that criminality is largely a

IT'S OFTEN A TICKLISH QUESTION WHETHER

A CROOK !S INSANE OR MERELY PRETENDING

GENERALLY SPEAKING, when it comes
to habits and opinions, there are two
classes of people, each of which thinks: the
other class is crazy. Jones eats spinach for
breakfast and Smythe daubs catsup on his
apple pie. Brown looks on and twists his finger
in a circle around his temple with a hopeless
grimace, but himself bedecks his wife in furs
= the summer and sips iced coffee. all winter
ong.

How crazy is crazy, anyway? A good ‘many
folks would like to know—and among them
are some of the top jurists and barristers who
have to contend with the problem of insanity
in ‘the administration of criminal law.

It is a recognized principle of justice in
most civilized lands, and notably in England
and the United States, that insanity is a valid
defense for the commission of an act which,
if attributed to a sane person, would be a
crime. There are certain persons who go
whole hog, and argue that the very corhmission
of a crime is prima facie proof o insanity—in
that any criminal act is a marked deviation
from so-called normal behavior—but they are
overruled at the bar of justice.

The earliest definitions of legal insanity, for
use as a defense in criminal cases, are based

matter of intent, and a person so crazy
does not know what he’s doing therefore
cannot be said to have felonious intent.

As far back as 1754 the Honorable Justice
Tracy handed down an opinion that “If a
man be deprived of his reason, and conse-

which might persuade a human to do wrong,
Legal insanity, in Tracy’s eyes,. was that of a
degree to reduce a rational human to.the level

In 1812 Lord Mansfield laid down a prin-
ciple, with respect to legal insanity, which has &
been widely followed ever since by jurists
in trying to arrive at a point where a criminal }
action is excusable and short of which it is
not. His test was that of right and wrong.

If a man,. Lord Mansfield ruled, were de-
prived of his reason to the extent that he
could not judge whether even the most wicked
transaction was right or wrong, then he was
sufficiently crazy to escape punishment as a
criminal, (Continued on page 43)

aerate te:

we oe men

patel andes

I Sete a ean an ga a

Are these things |
SUPE RSTITION

x

oe aie \, ‘

.-..or Strange

Natural Law?

THE PREMONITION or strange
feeling that preceded the death of a:
relative...the incident you remembered
before it happened. Have you had ©

_ these or similar experiences? Are you
brushing them aside? Can they be ex-
plained in such vague.terms as super-
stition or supernaturalism? Or, are
there natural laws of mind governing
these things?

FREE Book Explains

Join the ranks of thinking men and women.
Get to the bottom of things! Why be afraid
of knowledge, when its acquisition can
bring immeasurable happiness and achieve-
ment? Let the Rosicrucians (NOT a reli-
gion) show you how to use natural laws
effectively. Write for fascinating FREE book,
The Mastery of Life, which explains fully.

‘z Address: Scribe G.T.C
pits % ;

TRUTHS AGELESS AS TIME

SAN JOSE (AMORC) CALIFORNIA

ANY PHOTO ENLARGED
Size 8x 10 inches ' prey
se NOUnLEgH Papen LY 6

br a
orwdes any part of group
eqticinal rotverned with your § for $1.25

SEND NO MONEY see set oro, Cy

ti hot size) and .
negative or snaps! (ony 2) i seentve year

> ,
‘abe with ordse

postage. Take advantage of this amasing offer now. Send
photos today.

PROFESSIONAL ART STUDIOS
Chicago (14), tt.

100 East Ohio Street Dept. 627-C

Qualify for certified Grapho Analyst De-
pry (Clogged time. More pd poet
police use grapho anal.

and criminals, They understand

Managers, T:

id business it tokno 5

table private practices ss Voeations |,» Family Problem

spare fait tne Send for Smet cy anaied ppetael tion
r iJ

Bivilege, GRAPHO ANALYST and personal cnalyais offer,

jo Ae be Ge A Ine. 128 Noel, Missouri,

~

Evidence was introduced to show that
three brothers’ and sisters were idiotic; his
behavior had been noted as abnormal, and he
had shown an inordinate desire to possess the
personal property of other persons without
regard to their value.

A lower court convicted him of larceny,
but the state supreme court reversed the
judgment, holding that “Kleptomania, as here
defined, is an irresistible desire to steal. It is,
as we understand, a weakening of the will *
power to such an extent as to leave the
afflicted one powerless to control his impulse
to appropriate the personal property of others
without regard to whether such impulse is
inspired by avarice, greed or idle fancy.”

Shoplifters everywhere, of course, seized
upon the kleptomania decision as the greates
boon to store thievery since the invention o'
muff, but most of them duly landed in the

rig.

T FELL TO a New York murderer to

fashion a new twist to the insanity de-
fense when, in 1913, Hans Schmidt was
arrested and confessed to the slaying of one
Anna Aumuller, whose dismembered body
was taken from the Hudson River off Man-
hattan. }

Schmidt over and over related how he
slit the woman’s throat, but he claimed he had

| heard the voice of God commanding him

to kill Anna as‘a sacrifice and in atonement.
He described his life as one’ of hideous
excesses and shameful crimes, broken by
spells of religious exaltation, and it was in
one of these periods, he said, that he resorted :
to murder. ‘ .

Two physicians who examined him held
he was insane; others declared him sane
to the paint of being able to distinguish
between right and wrong. He was convicted,
and the case then went to the court of appeals.
‘Here Schmidt’s counsel sprang the sur-
prise. Hoping to nullify the former proceed-
ings altogether, they revealed that he had
shammed his insanity to protect confeder-
ates. His stories, Schmidt now declared, had
been pure fantasy. Obviously his attorneys
were seeking a mistrial of the original hear-
ing, doubtless hoping to snatch their client
to safety through some legal loophole such
as double jeopardy.

However, the New York Court of Appeals
solved its dilemma very neatly. It ruled that
a criminal may not experiment with one
defense and then, when it fails him, invoke
the aid of the law which he has flouted in
order to experiment with still another de-
fense, or to go free. |

One of the most noted of all insanity de-
fense cases was that of the “Mad Dog”
Esposito brothers in New York City in 1941,
In attempting a payroll holdup within a block
of the Empire State building in the heart of
Manhattan,. William and Anthony Esposito
killed a messenger and a policeman and
wounded a taxi driver and bank guard in a
shooting melee on a crowded sidewalk.

From the first it was plain that the Es-
positos intended to convince everyone who
saw them that they were utterly crazy.
Anthony hummed on the way to court. Be-
fore Judge Jonah J. Goldstein, on arraign-
ment, the killer answered questions only by
moaning ; all the while his head wobbled, his
eyes darted wildly from object to object,
and he pretended not to recognize a sister
who proclaimed aloud, “He’s crazy—he al-
ways was.”,

That afternoon court was adjourned to
the bedside of William, in Bellevue Hospital

| ~<he had been injured in the street battle

—and. was treated to another display of
feigned insanity
back,” William promised, “I’ll square things.”

Psychiatrists could .get no satisfactory
answers from either Anthony or William.
Whenever they appeared in court thereafter,
both acted as crazy as they could. They
waggled their heads’ and mumbled nonsensi-

“When I get my sword .

’
ties. They drooled like babies, Anthony
fumbled with the court’ Bible and then tried
to cat it.

However, with. all their pretenses there
were several items against them. ‘Both had

‘long criminal records with no mention of

insanity. William had thought quickly, at
the time of the shooting to play “possum” and
deceive the cop, whom he murdered. Their
attempt to rob the payroll messenger. had
been well planned, coldly executed, and upset
id because the victim foolishly gave bat-
tle. : ‘

As their .trial neared, the Espositos re-
fused to bathe, shave or have haircuts, until
Judge John J. Freschi ordered them forcibly
cleansed and shorn. In court they continued
their crazy antics. Anthony gnawed at his
fingers and rooted at the table with his fore-
head like an animal. William slid -off his

_Chair to the floor repeatedly. Anthony: beat

his head on the table, bellowed, tore his
clothes, cried. William often’ followed suit.

Psychiatrists who testified for the defense
said the brothers were insane, but those for
the State accused them of malingering, feign-
ing insanity. While their mentalities were
low, these experts contended, they were not
psychotic—aflicted with a mental disease
which prevented them from differentiating
between right and wrong.

The jury was out exactly one minute! The
verdict was guilty. The sentence was—the
chair for both.

Judge Freschi commended the jurors, stat-
ing that he had been convinced the Mad
Dogs were play-acting. When he pronounced
their doom he omitted the customary farewell
of “May God have mercy on your souls.”

En route to Sing Sing the brothers carried
their act straight through. Anthony tried
to fight with the driver and William made a
snatch for a guard’s gun. They kicked, bit,
growled—but uselessly. They were dressed
into the Big House, where they .went on
hunger strikes and had to be shaved forcibly.
Meanwhile their lawyers appealed their case.

The court of appeals turned them down,
but the governor named: a special sanity
commission to examine the brothers. Drs.
Ewen Cameron of Albany, Irving J. Sands
of Brooklyn and Howard W. Potter of Man-
hattan made these findings:

1. The Espositos were not insane.

2. They were suffering from a_ severe
form of hysteria.

3. This hysterical reaction was motivated .

by the fear of death and would persist as
long as the men remained in their present

situation—namely, under sentence of death. ©

' In ‘the Sing Sing death house the pair
stayed on their cots, ate small amounts—
they'd had the experience of being forcibly
fed—and on March-12, 1942, they refused
the traditional last meals of condemned men
and were wheeled ‘into the death chamber
where the big oak chair stilled their antics
forever. ~

pM THE Espositos, Mrs. Esperanza
Pisanti staged a sensational act. when
tried in Brooklyn for the murder of her
friend, Nancy Catalano early in 1946. After
an examination in ‘Bellevue she was pro-
nounced sane, but her behavior in court grew
worse and worse until Judge Sam Leibowitz
had her bound and gagged and ordered the
trial to go on.

Finally she saw it wasn’t going to work.
She offered to plead guilty to second degree
murder and, after she confessed the murder
in court, the plea was accepted. Because’ of
her age—50—the minimum sentence of 20
years was imposed. - .

On March 27, 1937, pretty, tragic Ver-
onica  Gedeon,, a shapely photographer's
model, was slain, together with: her mother
and a roomer, in the mother’s rooming
house on Beekman Hill in. New York City.

Police investigation fingered Robert Irwin,
a sculptor, as the criminal. Irwin. had fled

4 ; ica

»
J
oo

| a

use, }
rien

DISCI

HERE'S ;
Sterling Silve
yellow gold fi
Discharge Ey

magnificen

SEND NC

Genuine Ster!
sent to you A’
plus tax and ;

bv delighted,

unded at
ORDER TO

CHARLES
Dept. K-204


ey RY ay
HSPOSITO,

sihlon wa Tes avy
hONS DLL d L 9 taatlc

By Harold Gluck, J. D.,

Ph. D., J. S. D.

CHICAGO'S “Monster of Murder”—
William Heirens — looked insane
esough, but it was held in court that
this self-styled schizophrenic was
@ble to distinguish right from wrong,

ry

ceentinemeemmmemsse

crazy, and finally gave up her pret
crazy in this photo,

IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO JUDGE by appearances,
the “Mad Dog” brothers who slew a New York
looked the part of a maniac,
On the other hand, Robert
crazy and confined in a hospital.

but he was adjudged sane and electrocuted at Sing Sing.
Irwin (upper right),
Mrs. Esperanza Pisanti put on a good show (lower left), °
80 good, indeed, that she was brought to court in a straitjacket, but still she was not
ense. Winnie Ruth Judd (lower right) not only looks

but she was termed so by experts after she dismembered two victims.

Anthony Esposito (upper left) one of
cop and payroll messenger, certainly

who appears sane enough, was called

Senpnternereneraeteterrermene


a

been combed from the snowdrifts at two
points near where the frozen body had been
found. These, with the telltale marks on
the dead woman’s body, indicated a pro-
longed struggle in the car as it sped along
North Drive before the killing took place.

. “Come over to Magnus Avenue right
away,” Sellers’ exultant voice came over the
telephone a short time later. “I’ve found

the woman who left the tracks under the ,

Adams’ window.”

' It was late when Frayne returned. His
square-jawed face was exultant as he stepped
into George Smith’s office. “I’ve got the
lowdown on the mystery mah Adams and
Westgate were telling us about,” he rasped.
“It’s none other than our friend Westgate
himself !’”

. When the trial of Albert Westgate opened
before Justice Dysart on November 14,1939,
the prisoner faced his ordeal with calm
assurance, entering a firm plea of. not guilty.
Rallying to his side, wealthy relatives in
England had retained Sir Charles Tupper

and J. C. Foley, K. C.; for his defense. From ;

‘the first it. became obvious that there was
a strong. feeling in favor of the prisoner,
which semed to. increase as the evidence un-
folded.. Then Detective Frayne nodded to
Crown Prosecutor G. L. Coursley and a
call echoed through the vaulted building for
Johanna Ostrand.

A fair-haired woman entered the witness
box and told in a quivering voice of going
to the Adams house about 11 on the morning
of February 16 by appointment to do some
cleaning. Getting no response she’d peered
through the window and finally taken the
street car home. She said the appointment
had been made on the Monday before. the
murder by telephone from Mrs. Annie Hug-
gland’s home. : ‘

Mrs. Huggland told of a_ telephone con-
versation she’d overheard between Lottie
Adams and Westgate that same afternoon.
Mrs. Adams had made an appointment to
meet him on the morning of the sixteenth,
before the left on a proposed journey to
Minneapolis. Remarking that this was a little
early, she’d promised, nonetheless, to see
him. ;

Mrs. Hays of the Gordon Apartments
recounted quarrels she’d witnessed between
Westgate and the dead woman owing to his

-blind, unreasoning jealousy.

“He was always accusing her of not
telling the truth about where she’d been
and. what. she was doing. In a downtown
store I saw her slap his face,” she asserted.
“Another time he followed her to my place
and she had to stage a’ phony call to her
husband. She was getting tired of him and
‘wanted to break it off. Finally,” she con-
cluded,. “Westgate got mad, demanded his
presents back, and threatened to tell her
husband about everything.”

The final blow was delivered when Walter

‘Worthington identified Westgate as the man

who’d rented the green sedan. “The next
day,” he admitted, “Westgate called and
made me promise.I’d never admit knowing
he’d used the car—saying his’ wife would
make ‘trouble if she thought he’d been step-
ping out.” a

In summation this was the story the
Crown built up: :

. Adams left his wife Lottie in bed at 7:30
in the. morning of February 16, believing
she was indisposed. But she arose, dressed,
made up carefully and waited for Westgate
to call for her, .

He, with a plan of murder already formed,
rented the green sedan under the alias of

Randall picked Lottie up between 10:30 and.
11 A. M.

rode around with her, and then
killed her during a quarrel.

After burying the body in the snow, the
crippled veteran drove to his residence where
he. attempted to cleanse the rented auto of
bloodstains. He then left it at Worthing-

ton’s house and returned to the hospital,
hoping his war wounds would serve him as
an alibi. But they did not.

As the jury filed back all realized that
Westgate was doomed. Justice Dysart
donned the black cap and condemned West-
gate to be hanged.

“You're sentencing an innocent man!”
Defiantly the words of the prisoner rang
in the solemn courtroom,

Fighting desperately, Sir Charles Tupper
appealed on the grounds of mistrial. Again
in ‘March Westgate went through the har-
rowing experience of fighting for his life,
only to again hear himself condemned to
die at the end of the hangman’s rope.

With lawyers, veterans’ associations and

+ friends in Canada and England moving
heaven and earth to save him, Westgate sat

in the death cell watching the days slip by.

till his date with Death was only a few short
hours away.

He started as the grilled door swung open:
Ag the chief warden entered the eyes of the
padre sought his in a silent appeal for cour-
age. A paper rustled and the warden com-
menced to read. It was a reprieve! Instead of
dying on the gallows he'd escaped the noose
to face a living death, with a number for a
name, behind the grim walls of Stony
Mountain. penitentiary.

Eprror’s Nore: The name Bart Thomas,
as used in this narrative, is not actual but
fictitious.

Crazy

(Continued from page 28)

In 1843 the right-or-wrong test was de-
bated by the House of Lords ‘in London in
the slaying of Edward Drummond, private
secretary to Sir Robert Peel, by a man who
mistook Drummond for his boss. A verdict of
acquittal by virtue of insanity led to ‘a
wrangle in the upper house of the British
Parliament and it was decided to take an
opinion of the judges on the crown bench
as a proper definition and guiding principle
henceforth. . :

This was the decision of the judges: “If
the accused was conscious that the act was
one of which. he ought not to do, and if the
act was at the: same time contrary to the
law of the land, he is punishable.”

For the most part our criminal law, and
that of England from which our own code
stems, is slanted to give the defendant the
breaks, on the theory that it is far better to

let a few guilty slip through the net than to-

kill an innocent victim through mischance.

Consequently not a few criminals in: the
past century have worked the insanity de-
fense for all it was worth—and sometimes a
great deal more—as they wriggled to get
free of the punshment due them.

‘Some have faked craziness successfully,
Others have so confused experts that de-
cisions as to the guilt or innocence Pivoted on
very obscure points indeed. The court often
has to determine whether a defendant was
the victim of a periodic, impulsive or paroxys-
mal insanity—a real disease—or was merely
susceptible to an impulse to commit a crime.

Was the mind powerless to control the
will? That was the question to be answered
when an 18-year-old boy in Iowa, three times
previously convicted of thefts, was accused
of stealing a number of articles, among
them 14 watches, 34 jackkniyes, six mouth
organs, five pocket mirrors, and assorted
pulleys, spoons, rulers and keys. Many of
the items were unsalable, so his theft was not
for profit alone: and he certainly could not
personally use all of the pieces of loot. He
Claimed to be a kleptomaniac.

YOU'RE NATURALLY
MORE

ad

WHEN YOU LOOK YOUR BEST

You know how people talk about the fellow
with the “porcupine” hair, Be careful this
never happens to you! Now it’s so easy to
kee; vour hair smartly and neatly well-
groomed all day long with Glover's Imperial
Hair. Dress. Try the one-minute massage to-
morrow morning with Glover’s Hair Dress
and see the difference in ‘more natural-looking
softness that makes you.feel sure of yourself,
NON-ALCOHOLIC to avoid scalp dryness...

ANTISEPTIC for clean, protected scalp!

Ask for Glover's at any Drug Store or Drug
Counter—or mail the Coupon today!

-.- works 5 ways.
: 1-Non-aleoholie to '3—-Non-greasy to give
gvoidscalpdryness! you. a natural ap.

, mi at od %. pearance!
>» 2m Antiseptic tor ai, nee

islean, protected
scalp)

+-Water-soluble for.
. Quick rinsing!

“. $—Econamical—o few drops
rdaily will. condition
svheth ‘scalp. and’ hair!

GLOVER'S Snort
HAIR DRESS

az . FREE
‘ : = TRIAL SIZE
i’ ' Send Coupon for trisl
om { soda’ Toe ae Im-
OUR : Including Glover's prig?
wus passs inal Mange Medic ‘and

ous Glover’s 3-Way Med-
inal Treatme: and

int
FREE booklet, ‘“The Sei

ith easy
] instructions for the fam-
A=}| entific Careot the tiaie”

MAIL COUPON 9 Gs cue my oon eee eee oon oe oe

Glover's, 101 W. Sist St., Dept. 473, New York t, M. Y.
Send Pree Trial Application package in plain wrapper
by return mail, containing p Macey LE Hair Dress,
GLO-VER Shampoo, Glover's Mange Medicine 5B

rmetically-sealed bottles, with informative
booklet. I enclose 10¢ to cover cost of packaging and
Postage.

sv
\

reece tence tcc


*

(ESPOSITO, Anthony & William - Continued)

bowling over the women shopperse He plunged to the basement, put
away his guns, walked up again to hide in the crowd - and met six
policemen at the head of the stairs, went down with revolver butts
thudding on his skulle

"The Espositos went to the hospital, to the line-up, to indict-=-
ment for murdere Leonard Weisberg, recovering from his throat wound,
was promised a new cab of his own, and Won a hero's praisee The Nazi
press gleefully played up the crime as evidence of democratic depravity

TIME MAZAZINE, Janussy 27, 1941. Page 15¢
XBXKNX MIE
PATRICK Je EARLY (New York)

"Cole Charles Pe Echols, a West Point professor for 36 years
before his retirement in 1931, was robbed and beatan to death back
of the New York Public Library in the early hours of May 2le Last
week, Patrick Je (Little Iyish) Early, 31, Was picked up in Columbia
City, Ind., and, police said, admitted a part in the crime. He was
brought back to New York City, where he was charged with suspicion
of MAUKAX¥ homicide,.*

P

EX NEWSWEEK, June 24, 1940 age 27e

ANTHONY AND WILLIAM ESPOSITO (New York City)

"In Manhattan Jane 14, two savage little men walked in the sun
at noon with murder in their heartse They were the brothers Esposito
At.-12:20 PoMe, they saw their victim, Alfred Klausmann, emerge from
a bank in the Empire State Buildinge Silent on his heels they
followed him across Fifth Avenue, into the elevator of the of fice
building in which he worked. As it start$d up, Anthony Esposito
gémmed a gun against Klausmann's head, demanded the $649 payroll in
his pockete ‘No, no,' cried Klausmann, clutching his coate A
bullet tore into his braine The elevator descended and the Esposito
brothers raced across the street. In the next ten minutes, Manhattar
busy shopping district became a bloody noeman's lande Sprinting in
and out of Altman's huge department store, in and out of a taxicabs
the Espositos raced around the bloCke Bullets whizzede Shoppers
cowered indoorwayse The younger Esposito, William, fell wounded in
the lege As patrolman Eddie Maher bent over him, William raised his
gun and fired three times. A brave taxi driver named Leonard Weis=
burg bunged full at the spitting gun in an effort to save Maher who
was his friend. But the policeman fell dead and Weisburg writhdi om
the sidewalk, a bullet in his throat. Before civilians battered
William into submission, another man had been wounded in the shoulde)
Anthony Esposito was captured by police in a 5-andl0¢ store across
Fifth Avenue,

"Next morning a tempest of reyulsion swept New Yorke Police
Commissioner Valentine branded the Espositos tMad DogSe* A probatio!
weport disclosed their evil records of crime, truancy and utterly
irresponsible and anti-social behaviore Their father, aA Sicilian,

immigrant, had served time in prisone Two sisters were shoplifterse

i te eR Ma

HERE’S great satisfaction in fol-

lowing the excellent work the FBI

is doing in ferreting out the spying
rats in this country who are doing all they
can to help the Axis kill our boys.

[ think particularly of the drafted Ger-
man alien who put on the uniform of an
American soldier and then sent secret 1n-
formation to his bosses in Berlin. Caught
at the same time was an engineer who
three weeks after Pearl Harbor revealed
details about flying fortresses to our
enemies.

Both had been living in this country
for years, enjoying American privileges
and the American way of life. The engi-
neer had even become a naturalized citi-
zen, swearing allegiance to our flag.

These snakes did their dirty work after
this country went to war. Remember
that. It is not a case of peace-time espio-
nage for which the penalties in this coun-
try are often light. There is a death
penalty for war-time spying.

If these men are found guilty—and the
FBI rarely brings in anyone who 1s not
—I certainly hope that they will be exe-
cuted promptly. America has a reputa-
tion as being ridiculously soft-hearted
among nations abroad. Let’s put an end
to that idea and at the same time dis-
courage other spies.

The information sent out by rats such
as this results in the sinking of more than
one ship, can cause the destruction of
many of our soldiers. They show no
mercy when they relay forbidden facts to
U-boat captains who will shell lifeboats. 1
hope our authorities will be equally mat-
ter-of-fact in disposing of the betrayers
of the country which sheltered them.

Cop Killers’ End—

UARDS lifted the unresisting man

J from the wheel chair and put him in
the other chair. Swift, sure hands tight-
ened the straps and adjusted the elec-
trodes.

The current hummed and died away. Ae
doctor stepped forward and applied his
stethoscope. “I pronounce this man
dead,” he said. The body of cop killer
Anthony Esposito was placed on a
stretcher and taken away.

Almost immediately the process was re-
peated. Again a limp figure was quickly
shifted from wheel chair to electric chair.
Again the current rose and fell and the
doctor made his grim pronouncement.
William Esposito had joined his brother.
New York’s “mad dog killers” had gone
to their reward.

The Espositos were

very tough guys

when they took six guns and staged a
reign of terror on Fifth avenue in New
York City. They killed a payroll guard.

Then Patrolman Edward F. Maher got
William in theleg. William “played dead”
until Maher bent over him and then he
killed the policeman.

But their bravado vanished with cap-
ture. In jail and at their trial they pre-
tended to be insane. Taken to the death
house at Sing Sing, they went on a
hunger strike, tore their clothes and
ranted against the fate which was closing
in on them.

Psychiatrists said their insanity act was
a fake and that they knew very well what
they were doing. Justice moved ahead.
So frightened were the Espositos of the
death they had visited upon others that
they willed themselves into comas. That
was why they had to be wheeled to the
chair. They could dish it out but they
couldn’t take it.

Tem FINGER | PRI NTS

Can Become a

SECRET SERVICE and
FINGER PRINT

ALL THE IDENTI-

EXPERT AT HOME!
3 J * carton BUREAUS
OF AMERICA ARE ...

RUN BY I1.A.S. GRADUATES!

\

Think of it! One institution, the one that can
train vou too, has supplied the men who are in

Keep Them In—

HAVE consistently urged a realistic

viewpoint in this space toward the
curbing of sex criminals. Now the ques-
tion again has come up in a new case.

In 1932, pretty little Patricia Park,
young Los Angeles, Calif., pied
was kidnaped and attacked by Frederick
J. Byrnes. He added to her torture by
turning her over to four other men w ho
also attacked her. Then they forced the
hysterical girl to dance in the nude.

Patricia Park, despite the sympathy
and love given by her friends and family
could never drive this horrible experience
from her mind. She killed herself.

Byrnes went to Folsom prison for a
term of 7 to 220 years. Now, barely ten
years after his cruel act, Byrnes has asked
for parole and his application is under
consideration.

I am glad to see certain public officials
and heads of various Parent-Teacher as-
sociation groups fighting this parole. |
don’t think ten years in prison has given
Byrnes a fraction of the mental anguish
suffered by Patricia Park. In his sen-
tence we have two figures 7 and 220
years. Let's hope California authorities
keep the latter figure well in mind.

A. Hitler, Builder—

Ay ey comes by devious channels
that there is considerable building
going on in Poland and other European
countries under the auspices of Adolf
Hitler. Of course, as with everything
connected with that name, the news 1s

{Continued on page 72]

Se See

charge of 43% of all the identification bureaus
throughout the U. S. And think of this: three
fourths of the thousands of towns in the U. $
have not yet established identification bureau
Many more banks and industrial plants wi Ol
the ranks. The Government is extending its
identification work. All this expansion will re
quire many more trained men! Check al
professions you can think of and you will find
that Identification and Investigation ranks right
at the top and offers you a great o pportut ity.
Think that over!

Want a Regular
Monthly Salary?

Note that word ‘‘regular.”’ Most
be ‘‘fired’’ and someone els¢
the boss. A trained Fin
tion Expert gets to ki
his ‘‘cases”’ that no o
himself practically Spica tae
to we eae ranking positi
and money. That’s the kind of

iil the coupon for
PEE E literature that
gives you every tact

and detail. actual re

employes cat
hired without loss t
Print and Iden
uly facts
. He can
>, gO On &@
wer,

work you want

ports of a Secret Service a real buo}
showing hinge print facts and how actual t:
cases were solved by finger prints. Discover h
easy it is to learn this new. fast growing, fasc!
nating Mey at home tn your spare time
ALL THIS INFORMATI IS) ABSO
LUTELY FREE. Don't delay. Se nd the coupon

today!

INSTITUTE OF APPLIED SCIENCE
ESTABLISHED 23 YEARS
1920 Sunnyside Ave., Dept. A-676, CHICAGO

r 4
f Institute of Applied Science i
i 1920 Sunnyside Ave., Dept. A-676, Chicago, III. i
I Gentlemen: Without any obligation 6n my part what- i
Hever, send me the Reports of Operator No. 38, also |
4 your illustrated Free Book on Finger Prints and your &
a low prices and Easy Terms Offer. Literature will be §
1 sent only to versons stating their age. i
i]
; Name ....... 1
i]
E Address
i i]
1 Age i
’ 4

eee ee ee 2 le

—

RY OF

. the criminal
»< at it. There
nnie Parker,
Anthony and
trale and Jo-
‘hese are the

al mind can
Olice offi-
ays and

ve given

> prevention.

SE DETECTIVE

MEN WHO TRIED TO OUT-WIT THE LAW—AND LOST

It isn’t just a part of their lives. It’s their everything. If
4 potential criminal could spend a day going though the
‘laboratories of the Federal Bureau. of Investigation in
Washington, D. C. this writer’ would bet his typewriter
that such a man would leave the Bureau convinced that
anybody. who tried to “get away with murder” was just
plain stupid.

Then ,there is the position of society itself. A criminal

-is outlawed by the society he has turned against before

he even starts. And if, by some miracle, he should elude
the police, then every ‘law-abiding citizen is lined up
against him. There isn’t a place he can turn for help.

JULY, 1941

He finds himself alone in a world that has no place for
him. His only friends are fellow criminals—men and wo-
men in. the same position that he is in. And they, like
himself, are being hunted by the forces of society that are
sure to bring him to his inevitable end—justice.

Front Pace Derectvre believes that it is doing a public
sefvice when it prints pictures such as those shown on
these pages. Study them carefully and be sure that you
realize the full significance of the lesson they teach.

These men argued with the law. You can see for yourself
what happened to them.

Don’t do it!