The Cases That Haunt Us

by Mark Olshaker

  Condon found Reich and together they drove back to the house, where Breckinridge was waiting for a thorough debriefing. Condon said he was sure he could identify “Cemetery John” if he saw him again. Breckinridge called Lindbergh. Condon had not seen the communication referring to the crime having been planned for a year, so when he reported this detail, taken with everything else such as the accent and pronunciations, Breckinridge and Lindbergh felt confident that Cemetery John was actually part of the kidnapping rather than simply an opportunistic extortionist.

  Condon and Breckinridge composed an ad for the Bronx Home News:

  Money is ready. No cops. No Secret Service. No press. I come alone, like last time. Jafsie.

  On Sunday, March 13, police brought Dr. Erastus Mead Hudson, physician and independent fingerprint expert, to see if he could do any better than the police had done. After meticulously working the crime scene, he was able to lift thirteen prints from the baby’s toys, which was important since Charlie, having been born at home rather than in a hospital, had never been fingerprinted. Hudson also found an astounding five hundred or so partial prints on the ladder. Most of them were unusable, but this demonstrated how many individuals had been handling this crucial piece of evidence in this most publicized of all cases.

  The next day, Monday, Condon got a call from Cemetery John. “There has been a delay sending the sleeping suit,” he reported. “It will come. You will have it soon.” Then he hung up.

  On Tuesday morning, March 15, a brown-paper-wrapped package turned up in Condon’s mail. Condon recognized the printing of the address and immediately called Breckinridge at his office. In less than an hour, Breckinridge was at Condon’s house, where the two men opened the parcel. It was a carefully folded gray wool, one-piece, size-2 Dr. Denton’s sleeping suit with feet and appeared to be authentic. A one-page note was enclosed, with writing on both sides. On the front it said:

  Dear Sir: Ouer man fail to collect the mony. There are no more confidential conference after we meeting from March 12. Those arrangemts to hazardous for us. We will note allow ouer man to confer in a way like befor. circumstances will note allow us to make transfare like you wish. It is impossibly for us. wy shuld we move the baby and face danger. to take another person to the place is entirely out of question. It seems you are afraid if we are the rigth party and if the boy is allright. Well you have ouer singnature. It is always the same as the first one specialy them 3 holes.

  This note did, indeed, bear the now familiar signature. On the back was written:

  Now we will send you the sleepingsuit from the baby besides it means 3 $ extra expenses because we have to pay another one. please tell Mrs. Lindbergh note to worry the baby is well. we only have to give him more food as the diet says.

  You are willing to pay the 70000 note 50000 $ without seeing the baby first or note. let us know about that in the New York- American. We can’t do it other ways because we don’t like to give up ouer safty plase or to move the baby. If you are willing to accept this deal put these in paper.

  I accept mony is redy

  ouer program is:

  After 8 houers we have the mony received we will notify you where to find the baby. If there is any trapp, you will be

  responsible what

  will follows.

  If there was any remaining doubt about the possibility of organized crime involvement—and there shouldn’t have been, though several leads were still being followed up—this note should have squelched them. The idea of suddenly upping by $20,000 a ransom demand that had supposedly been planned for a year was ludicrous enough. But grousing that sending the sleeping suit as proof was costing them another $3 for a new one clearly demonstrated the level on which the offender or offenders were operating. By this time Condon had met with Cemetery John and heard his accent, which tied right in with the spellings and syntax of the written communications. In certain respects, at least one of the offenders had profiled himself.

  At 1:30 the following morning, Lindbergh himself arrived at Condon’s house. He had come in disguise to evade reporters. Lindbergh studied the suit for several minutes before proclaiming it authentic. Then he noted that it had been laundered since Charlie had worn it. He and Anne both felt the return of the suit was a good sign and didn’t want the negotiations to drag on any longer than necessary. He also knew that Jafsie’s identity would not stay secret for long. He instructed Breckinridge and Condon to do exactly what the kidnappers demanded. They ran the “Money is ready” notice, adding, “John, your package is delivered and is O.K. Direct me. Jafsie.”

  But nothing happened. Breckinridge placed another Jafsie ad. Condon received a reply on Monday, March 21. The letter was postmarked two days earlier from the Bronx. It again bore the interlocking circles.

  Dear Sir: You and Mrs, Lindbergh know ouer Program. If you don’t accept den we will wait until you agree with ouer deal. we know you have to come to us anyway But why should Mrs. and Mr. Lindbergh suffer longer as necessary we will note communicate with you or Mr. Lindbergh until you write so in the paper.

  we will tell you again; this kidnapping cace whas prepared for a year already so the Police won’t have any luck to find us or the child. You only puch everything farther out did you send that little package to

  Mrs. Lindbergh? it contains

  the sleepingsuit for the baby.

  the baby is well.

  The reverse side of the page bore a single line: “Mr. Lindbergh only wasting time with his search.”

  Breckinridge was troubled by the note. It suggested that John had not seen the previous ads they had run. Things could be falling apart. They ran another ad in the Bronx Home News on Tuesday, March 22. It acknowledged again receipt of the sleeping suit evidence but asserted the need to see the baby before the cash was handed over.

  There were obvious reasons for this and not so obvious ones. In addition to the Jafsie angle, Lindbergh was pursuing several other avenues, hoping that one would lead to Charlie’s return. There was the RosnerSpitale-Bitz connection, which, despite all of Rosner’s blustering, had turned up nothing. There was also an industrialist in Norfolk, Virginia, named John Hughes Curtis, head of a boatbuilding company. He had gone to his Episcopal minister, Harold Dobson-Peacock, with a story about repairing a boat for a rumrunner who said he had been asked by the kidnappers to have Curtis act as go-between. Dobson-Peacock had known the Morrows in Mexico City. Lindbergh didn’t know what to make of Curtis’s story, particularly after the Condon connection surfaced, but he was unwilling to completely dismiss it, either.

  And then there was Gaston Bullock Means, a thirty-two-year-old investigator who had been both a veteran of the Bureau of Investigation, the FBI’s predecessor agency, and the defendant in a murder trial. He was acquitted, but his reputation continued to be somewhat shady, and when J. Edgar Hoover took over in 1924, he immediately got rid of Means. Means then got involved in a series of hustles that did get him thrown into the federal pen in Atlanta. When the Lindbergh kidnapping broke, Means got in touch with one of his former clients, Evalyn Walsh McLean, the wealthy Washington socialite, current owner of the Hope Diamond, and estranged wife of the publisher of the Washington Post. Means said that the kidnappers had asked him to take part in the crime, but upstanding soul that he was, he’d refused. However, this put him in a unique position to negotiate with them. He’d met the head of the gang while in the Atlanta Penitentiary, and if Mrs. McLean would fork over $100,000, he was confident he could get the baby back safely. The heiress willingly put up the money, along with additional funds for Means’s expenses.

  In the end, neither the Means nor the Curtis gambit proved to be real, and both men ended up being tried for fraud, convicted, and sentenced to jail time. Curtis’s sentence was suspended.

  There was never any question in Charles Lindbergh’s mind that he would pay the ransom. He sold much of his stock to raise the cash. The one agency he did call for help with the logistics was the Treasury Department, which put h
im in touch with the Internal Revenue Service’s chief law enforcement officer, Elmer Irey. Irey had become something of a legend as the one who had developed the strategy to get Al Capone behind bars for income tax evasion. The Lone Eagle was still trying to play it completely straight with the kidnappers, but when Irey heard that Lindbergh intended to have the J. P. Morgan Company assemble seventy grand without even recording the serial numbers, he said he’d have nothing to do with the case unless it was handled in a more sensible way. Tracing ransom money can be one of the most effective ways of catching up with a kidnapper, and if Lindbergh was going to prevent this, Irey felt the investigation would be too hamstrung to be effective. Finally, Lindbergh agreed to do it Irey’s way, after being convinced that this tactic could not endanger the baby. The kidnappers would have no way of knowing whether serial numbers had been recorded or not.

  Not only did Irey get the serial numbers of the ransom cash recorded, he came up with a highly creative nuance. The Treasury Department was already planning for the United States to go off the gold standard, which would take place in about a year. As part of the transition, remaining gold coins and gold certificate paper currency would be called. The bills would be replaced by silver certificates, which would not carry the characteristic round yellow seal of the gold notes. Irey’s idea was to stack the ransom bills with gold certificates, which would be easy to spot once the nation was off the gold standard. He had his agents arrange the money into two packages that corresponded in denomination to what the ransom note had demanded. The first package was $50,000, all but $14,000 in gold notes. The second, $20,000 package, consisted of four hundred $50 gold notes, which would be easy to spot when passed. All serial numbers were nonsequential.

  What Lindbergh wouldn’t go for, however, was to have the police anywhere near the money exchange or to have Condon tailed until he met up with Cemetery John or an associate. Lindbergh and Breckinridge were concerned John was getting spooked and then placed another Jafsie ad in the Home News edition of Sunday, March 27: “Money is ready. Furnish simple code for us to use in paper. Jafsie.”

  On Tuesday Condon found a response in his mailbox:

  Dear Sir: It is note necessary to furnish any code. You and Mr. Lindbergh know ouer Program very well. We will keep th child in ouer same plase until we have the money in hand, but if the deal is note closed until the 8 of April we will ask for 30000 more. Also note 70000–100000.

  How can Mr. Lindbergh follow so many false clues he knows we are the right party ouer singnature is still the same as in the ransom note. But if Mr. Lindbergh likes to fool around for another month, we can help it.

  Once he has come to us anyway but if he keeps on waiting we will double ouer amount. There is absolutely no fear aboud the child is well.

  Lindbergh and Breckinridge took from this letter that they were running out of time; the kidnapper was annoyed by what he had heard about John Curtis claiming to be in touch with the gang and fed up with what he perceived as the family’s screwing around with him. I and my unit would have read it as increasing desperation on the offender’s part that we could have exploited. Of course, the hands of everyone involved with the investigation were tied by Lindbergh’s own management of the case, so it would have been difficult or impossible to get permission to set up a trap, something we’ve done in other kidnapping cases and could have done here, had we been around yet. Since then, of course, the FBI has been involved in countless kidnapping investigations, and one of things on which they pride themselves is virtually never losing the “package”—the ransom money.

  Breckinridge placed a “Money is ready” ad in both the Home News and New York Journal editions of March 31. On April 1, Condon received the letter they’d been waiting for. Postmarked from Fordham Station, it instructed Lindbergh to have the money ready Saturday evening, to place an ad to that effect, and eight hours after the money had been received, the location of the child would be revealed. Condon lobbied for a “cash and carry” arrangement—the money for the child—but Lindbergh was unwilling to take the chance of upsetting John.

  Lindbergh accompanied Breckinridge to Condon’s house, where they turned over the ransom money to him to be placed in the specially constructed ballot box. They managed to get the first package in, but the additional $20,000 wouldn’t fit, so Condon decided to carry it separately.

  On the afternoon of Saturday, April 2—the day the latest Jafsie ad had run—Lindbergh and Breckinridge waited with Condon and Al Reich in Condon’s living room for word from John. Knowing the situation would be dangerous, Lindbergh told Condon he would be perfectly understanding if the old professor wanted to back out from the actual money exchange. Condon assured him he had no intention of backing out now. Colonel Schwarzkopf had reluctantly given his word that law enforcement would stay away.

  THE MONEY DROP

  At about 7:45 in the evening, a taxi driver rang the doorbell and left an envelope on the front steps. With Lindbergh and Breckinridge looking over his shoulder, Condon tore it open.

  Dear Sir: take a care and follow east tremont Ave to the east until you reach the number 325 east tremont ave.

  It is a nursery.

  Bergen

  Greenauses florist

  ther is a table standing outside right on the door, you find a letter undernead the table covert with a stone, read and follow instruction.

  On the reverse side the offender warned:

  don’t speak to anyone on the way. If there is a ratio alarm for policecar, we warn you, we have the same equipment. have the money in one bundel.

  we give you 3/4 houer to reach the place.

  The plan was for Lindbergh to drive Condon to the meeting point and wait there for him. At the last minute, Reich suggested that Lindbergh take his Ford coupe. John had seen it and so he wouldn’t think a new or unexpected element had been added to the equation.

  The place they had been directed to was another cemetery, St. Raymond’s. Tremont Avenue ran along its north side. The Bergen Greenhouses referred to in the note were near the intersection of Tremont and Whittemore Avenues. Near the door to Bergen’s flower shop they saw the table. Lindbergh stopped the car in front. Condon got out and spotted the note held down by a rock. He brought it back to the car and together the two men read it.

  Cross the street and walk to the next corner and follow whittemore Ave to the soud

  take the money with you. Come alone and walk

  I will meet you

  Lindbergh said he was coming, too, but Condon reminded him that the note said to come alone. Lindbergh reluctantly agreed, handing him the ballot box. Condon said he’d come back for it after he’d met with John.

  Instead of walking south on Whittemore, which was a dark, poorly lit dirt road, Condon headed east on Tremont, where the light was better and he felt safer. But he couldn’t see anyone, so he headed back to the car to report to Lindbergh. But before Lindbergh could answer, Condon heard a voice from the direction of the tombstones.

  “Hey, Doctor!” It sounded like Cemetery John.

  There is a minor discrepancy in the stories at this point, one of many. According to some accounts, Condon answered, “All right,” then the man called out, “Hey, Doctor. Over here! Over here!” According to other accounts, Condon didn’t respond until the man had called to him for the second time. This may be significant as to how much of the exchange Lindbergh himself heard, since he remained in the car, and years later he was called upon to identify the voice. Had he allowed police surveillance of the scene, it would not have been so great an issue.

  Condon strode down Whittemore Avenue and into the cemetery, the direction from which the voice came. Inside, he saw a figure moving parallel to him through the gravestones. He began following the man down the hill and to an access road bounded by a five-foot-high cement wall. The man climbed over the wall, crossed the access road, scaled a low fence on the other side of the road, then crouched down below a hedge just to the left of where Condon was now standing. />
  The man called out to him. Condon boldly told him to stand up. He recognized the man as Cemetery John. He was wearing a black suit and the same felt fedora. “Did you gottit the money?” he asked.

  “No,” Condon replied. “It’s up in the car.”

  “Who is up there?”

  “Colonel Lindbergh.”

  “Is he armed?”

  “No, he is not.” This was a lie. Condon knew Lindbergh was carrying a revolver. He demanded the baby. John said he could not get the baby back for about eight hours after the money was received. The two men went back and forth over this for several minutes, with Condon ultimately demanding a receipt for the money and a note telling exactly where the baby was before he would go back to get the money. John said he didn’t have those items with him. They both agreed to get what the other asked and return in a few minutes.

  Then Condon had a stroke of inspiration, a way to do one more favor for the man he admired so much. These were hard times, he explained to John. Lindbergh was not nearly so rich as many believed. All he’d been able to raise was the original $50,000, not the additional $20,000. But if John would accept that amount, he’d go right to the car and get it.

  John shrugged. “Well, all right. I suppose if we can’t get seventy we’ll take fifty.”

  It was 9:16. Condon went back to the car and reported to Lindbergh, who handed him the box and the other package from his pocket. Condon told him to put it away, that he’d talked him out of the other twenty.

  When Condon and John met up again just before 9:30, John asked, “Have you gottit the money?”

  “Yes,” Condon answered. “Have you got the note?”