by Brian Vallee
Jackson would testify later that when he saw a figure approaching the car “through the corner of my left eye … I opened the door …
and was in the act of fleeing.” But as he started towards the rear of the car, he heard a volley of shots. With that, he drew his revolver to protect himself. He aimed at the other car from behind the Monarch, but didn’t fire. Some witnesses said he did fire, others said he didn’t. Perry thought Jackson fired at least once, but there was no forensic evidence or spent casings to prove it. Jackson could see a man lying face down in the street and could tell by the large aerial that the other car was a police cruiser. As Suchan put the car into first gear and it began moving forward, Jackson jumped in.
“Christ! That was a cruiser,” he said. “Let’s get out of here!” Suchan gunned the motor and they roared away, through a red light, east on College.
Perry blacked out, and next remembers someone shaking him and asking if he was all right. He looked up to see the black Monarch going east on College. Reaching for the police radio, he gasped into the mike: “Two gunmen … College/Lansdowne … ambulance … hurry.…” It has never been firmly established, but it’s believed that Perry was not armed, having left his service revolver in his desk at College Street police headquarters.
Laura Price was behind the police cruiser and witnessed the shooting. When the Monarch drove off she left her car and went to Tong’s aid. “He was lying face down with one arm under his head,” she said. Truck driver William Fawcett ran to her side to help. Price said Tong “motioned with his finger for me to bend down closer, and when I did so, he spelled out a name and I spelled it to the truck driver. He also gave me an address on Wright Avenue.”
Price leaned in even closer to Tong. “Who did it?” she asked. “Bank robbers,” he replied. The name he had spelled out, she said, was Steve Suchan. How did Tong know it was Suchan, who had only a minor record for passing bad cheques? Either Mary Mitchell had given him the name or, through his informants, Tong was finally closing in on Suchan. Since Tong didn’t mention Jackson’s name, he either didn’t get a good look at him or didn’t recognize him.
The information that Tong gave Laura Price was on a slip of paper in Fawcett’s shirt pocket, but Fawcett thought it was the injured policeman’s own name and address. When ambulances and other police arrived, Fawcett continued his deliveries. But when he called to check in with his office later, he was told the name of the downed officer was Tong. “It was then I realized that he had been trying to give some information, so I immediately called the police, and turned the slip of paper over to the officer who arrived.”
Another witness to the shooting, Charles Waddell, said he heard a shot and saw Tong “crumple and fall” to the street. “That shot came from the driver of the car,” he said. “Then there was a black revolver thrust out the window of the car” and three more shots were fired at the police car. He also saw Jackson jump from the Monarch and point a gun at the police car. “I did not see him fire,” he said. “But he turned and looked squarely towards me. Then he ran back and jumped into the car and it pulled away.” He and other witnesses said Jackson was wearing a dark “winter weight” overcoat and a grey fedora.
Suchan and Jackson knew they had to dump the black Monarch as quickly as possible. The police would be swarming after them in minutes. They continued east on College Street for four blocks and then turned right on Sheridan Avenue. Crossing Dundas, they continued south until they spotted a taxi parked on the street. Suchan parked down the street from the taxi, and he and Jackson walked back and got in.
“Twenty-seven Sorauren,” said Suchan.
The taxi pulled up at the side entrance to his parents’ house, and the driver was told to wait. Inside, Suchan telephoned Anna Camero and told her to call the police immediately and tell them her car had been stolen. “But why, what’s going on?” she asked.
“Just do it,” said Suchan. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
Suchan would say later, “I knew if she didn’t phone she would be in a heap of trouble.”
Suchan and Jackson quickly left the Lesso house for the waiting taxi, Suchan carrying his briefcase loaded with weapons and ammunition. They slipped into the back seat, and the taxi headed south on Sorauren.
It was unheard of – policemen didn’t get shot down on the streets of Toronto in broad daylight. But it was true. The public was outraged, and the newspapers unleashed a frenzy of coverage. Tong was fighting for his life at Toronto General Hospital and if he survived he would probably be paralysed. The story was fluid, and over the next two days every possible angle would be covered as the newspapers – the Telegram and the Star in particular – looked for scoops that would win the circulation battle. As the story unfolded, both papers used massive banner headlines and filled page after page with photos, maps, and diagrams.
Toronto historian Mike Filey says that until Tong was shot, “it was almost kind of a WOW! story, rather than these were really bad people. But after the policeman was shot, people said, ‘Whoa! this isn’t as much fun as we thought it was.’ ”
Mayor Lamport, frustrated by all the unsolved bank robberies, could barely contain his fury over the shooting of the two police officers – his officers. He called it a “reign of terror” and said the city would put up a reward for the gunmen. He also demanded registration of all guns in the city as a deterrent, and said he was sending wires to the presidents of all the banks with branches in Toronto urging them to post armed guards in bulletproof observation bulkheads as a deterrent to bank robbers. Lamport and Chief of Police John Chisholm said one thousand policemen were combing the city in search of the suspects.
Jack Webster, then a uniformed officer, said that Toronto policemen of all ranks were willing to work seven days a week, without any remuneration, to get the men who shot Tong and Perry. “It wasn’t long before the wanted posters were out. There weren’t enough detectives to check out every tip, so they used uniformed men to make sure every one was checked out. The shootings had a traumatic effect on police officers. I was thinking, it could be me, or it could be any one of us. We’ve got to get this gang out of existence.”
Detective Jack Gillespie was at home with his pregnant wife, doing some painting around the house, when he heard about the shootings on the radio. He lived on St. Helens Avenue about a block-and-a-half north of the Lansdowne and College intersection. “I ran all the way down there, but both Tong and Perry had been taken to the hospital by ambulance. Then I went right in to work.”
The Toronto police wasted little time issuing the names and descriptions of the suspects. Tong had provided Suchan’s name and address to civilian witnesses at the scene, and he did the same when two police detectives arrived before the ambulance. Barely conscious, Tong again whispered the information to them: “It was Steve Suchan, 190 Wright Avenue.” The detectives discovered that Tong’s right hand, doubled beneath him, was touching the handle of his police revolver, which was half out of his overcoat pocket. Police investigators speculated later that Tong was probably going for his gun and trying to turn away when he saw Suchan raise his revolver.
In his hospital room that night Tong was breathing with the aid of an oxygen mask. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, his longtime friend, Inspector of Detectives John Nimmo, held up several photographs in front of him and asked: “Who did this to you?”
“That’s him,” whispered Tong when Nimmo held up a photo Steve Suchan.
Anna Camero was so nervous after Suchan’s telephone call that she had to get Betty Huluk to dial the police number for her. “I got someone on the line, and then Anna reported her car stolen,” said Huluk. Police scouring the area in the vicinity of the shooting found Camero’s car on Sheridan Avenue less than thirty minutes after Suchan and Jackson abandoned it. A woman looking out the window of her house had seen two men leave the parked car and enter a cab. All city and suburban cab drivers were ordered by police to furnish them with their run sheets.
With
the information from Tong, Sergeant of Detectives William Bolton searched Anna Camero’s house a short time after she reported her car stolen. He found a receipt for the $200 CPR Express Money Order that Camero’s mother had sent to Victor J. Lenoff at the Montreal address. And behind a haversack hanging on a nail in the rear sun porch, Bolton discovered twenty-two .45 calibre bullets wrapped in a handkerchief. Stuffed under the chesterfield in the living room, police found the metal target and two air pistols. And in the basement they found the torso and plaster head that Suchan and Jackson had used for target shooting.
Also found in the house was a light-blue sport jacket. Inside was a label: “Madison Tailored Clothes – made to measure in Toronto, Canada, for Mr. Jackson, on May 11, 1951.” Police would soon learn that “Mr. Jackson” was in fact Lennie Jackson, arrested by Eddie Tong on July 30 and wanted for several bank robberies and for escaping from the Don Jail with Edwin Alonzo Boyd.
Anna Camero and Betty Huluk were taken to police headquarters, where they were interviewed for several hours. Detective Jack Gillespie showed them a photo of Steve Suchan. They said they knew him all right – he was the father of Camero’s youngest daughter, but his name wasn’t Suchan, it was Val Lesso. With that information, police with guns drawn raided the Sorauren Avenue rooming house owned by Suchan’s parents. Joseph Lesso was still away in Florida, enjoying his vacation courtesy of Boyd and Willie Jackson. From Elizabeth Lesso and other roomers, it was learned that Suchan and been there twice that day, before and after the shooting. Before the shooting he had changed from a windbreaker to an overcoat, which lends credence to the theory that he and Jackson were planning to rob a bank that day: it would have been much easier for them to conceal a revolver in an overcoat. And what reason would Suchan have to change from his windbreaker if he were merely driving Jackson to the bus station? After the shooting, he probably switched to a different overcoat, because witnesses could have provided police with a description of his clothing.
While the police were at the Lesso rooming house, a woman came to the door asking for Val Lesso. When told he wasn’t around, she asked to speak to his mother. Detective-Sergeant Charlie Cook questioned the woman and discovered she was Jane Blahut of 474 Roncesvalles Avenue. It was an interesting address – the same address where Eddie Tong and Jack Gillespie arrested Lennie Jackson in July. Frank Watson had also been known to live there. Cook accompanied the woman to the residence, where he discovered photographs of Lennie Jackson and a woman companion taken at a nightclub. The woman was later identified as his wife, the former Ann Roberts. Cook also discovered that Jane Blahut was in fact Lennie Jackson’s other sister. (Mary Mitchell would be picked up for questioning later.) Blahut was arrested on a vagrancy charge – a catch-all charge used by police in those days to hold suspects for short periods.
After they put the pieces together, the detectives for the first time made the connection between Suchan and Lennie Jackson. They also knew Suchan’s real name and, from the CPR receipt, his Montreal address and alias – Victor J. Lenoff. And now they knew that Lennie Jackson had grown a moustache, was wearing black horn-rimmed glasses, and used the alias Fred Wilson.
Soon after, photographs and descriptions of the wanted men were distributed to airports, train stations, bus depots, and border crossings. The police, who were meticulously checking hotels and rooming houses, now knew exactly who they were looking for. All law enforcement agencies were notified, including the RCMP and the FBI, and descriptions were sent out to all newspapers and radio stations.
Police learned of Suchan’s penchant for fine restaurants, and the next day the Telegram reported, “Suchan is known as a glutton for food, and throughout the afternoon, restaurants in the west end and downtown areas were fine-combed by police.”
By late Thursday, Chief Chisholm had announced that warrants had been issued for the arrests of Suchan and Jackson for the attempted murder of Eddie Tong. “We are hoping fervently the warrant will not have to be changed to one of murder,” he said.
Jane Blahut, Anna Camero, and Betty Huluk were held in police cells overnight, and on Friday the newspapers made a meal of them. In a long article in the Telegram by Norm Johnston and Doug Creighton,22 the three women were described as well-dressed. “Jane Blahut, a faded blonde, had on a smart fur coat and wore rhinestone earrings.” Anna Camero was “a pretty blonde” who wore “a black coat trimmed with white fur and carried white gloves.” Betty Huluk “appeared in a well-cut fur coat.”
Bail was set at $1,000 for each of the women. Betty Huluk was mortified by the whole experience. Soon after, she left her room on Wright Avenue and moved back home with her mother near Brantford, Ontario.
While the police were closing in on Suchan and Jackson, Eddie Tong continued to fight for his life at Toronto General Hospital. By Friday morning his condition was slightly improved, but doctors said he was still far too weak to be operated on. The bullet was still lodged near his shoulder-blade, and he hadn’t been told that if he did survive he would probably never walk again. At the nursing station on the second floor of the Private Patients’ Pavilion where his room was located, the phone rang constantly as well-wishers called to ask how Tong was doing. “Condition fair – no change.… Condition fair – no change.…” The message would be repeated hundreds of times over the next few days.
“There’s nothing much we can do now,” one doctor told a reporter. “He is in such a state of shock, we can’t even move him. He was hit by only one bullet, but it touched both lungs.” To keep Tong alive, doctors gave him numerous transfusions, and there was an overwhelming response from his colleagues when a police radio call went out for blood donors.
Detective Roy Perry was operated on for a badly fractured arm. Police said that only one bullet, not two as first reported, had hit the officer in the arm. The heavy bullet had split in two when it struck the windshield, and both sections smashed into Perry’s raised forearm.
Perry was taken to St. Joseph’s Hospital after the shooting but insisted on being moved to Toronto General to be near his partner.
Tong’s family – his wife Evelyn, thirteen-year-old son Raymond, and twenty-one-year-old daughter Margaret – were at the hospital Friday morning hoping to see him. With them was Alexandrine Gibb, a reporter for the Star who had been assigned to cover the story from a woman’s point of view. She had known Tong for some time and had arranged to tag along with the family when they went to the hospital. Gibb’s job was to write a touching, emotional account of what she saw. It just happened to be young Raymond’s thirteenth birthday, which added a bittersweet element to the story.
A nurse met them at the door of the room and said she had just given Tong “a hypo” and didn’t think he should be disturbed.
“I want to do whatever is best for him,” said Mrs. Tong. “I’ll do whatever you say. We’ll come back later.” As they turned to leave, Tong called out to his wife to come in.
“He’s heard you and he wants you,” said the nurse. “You’d better come in.” Gibb’s account of the meeting appeared in the Star that day:
The family entered quickly. A smile trembled on the wife’s lips. She looked at her husband in the high bed, strangely wan and weak. “How do you feel dear?” she asked.
Detective Tong managed a chuckle. It was feeble, but it was there. “I feel fine today and so do all the hoodlums,” he said.
“When are you going to get better so we can celebrate Raymond’s birthday?” Mrs. Tong asked. “He’s 13 today, you know.”
“Yes I know he is,” her husband said. “I remembered that. We’ll have his party yet.”
And now there was a moistness filming Mrs. Tong’s eyes. “We’ll get another cake, too,” she murmured. Her husband smiled and closed his eyes.
“How are you getting on?” he asked. “I worried about you being there alone.”
Mrs. Tong found a quip from somewhere. “I was all right,” she said. “I had a girlfriend of yours with me.”
“Oh, did you?” the
detective said. “Who was she?”
“Alex Gibb of the Star,” Mrs. Tong said.
“Good for her,” Det. Tong said. “That’s fine.” He grinned, closed his eyes again and the only sound was his breathing.
“I think he’s going to sleep now,” the nurse whispered.
“Yes,” the wounded man whispered, “I’m awfully tired.”
Mrs. Tong, Margaret, and Raymond tiptoed from the room. The women dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs.
Not to be outdone, the Telegram did its own “tiptoeing” around Tong’s hospital room, and Herbert Biggs found this way to end an account of Tong identifying Suchan’s picture:
Skilled hands replaced the oxygen mask on his face as he took up again the fight to stay alive.
A Telegram reporter tiptoed into the room. Tong’s eyes were open under the mask and the reporter murmured a word of greeting and a hasty wish for “good luck.” And Tong, one of the best-liked officers on the force, gave a flicker of his eyelids – a flicker of recognition.
After consulting with Chief Chisholm, Mayor Lamport announced a $2,000 reward for information leading to the capture and conviction of Tong’s assailants. “If the people will co-operate, we’ll end this reign of terror,” he told reporters at City Hall. “Everybody knows when somebody suspicious moves into their boarding house or neighbourhood, and it is not mean or cowardly to report it. If they report it, they may save the life of a man like Tong … one of the finest officers on the force. We’re going to keep Toronto a decent city. We’ll welcome decent citizens, but we don’t want the other kind and we’re going to make war on them. We’re going to catch these fellows and we’ll punish them.”