Sheboygan Tales of the Tragic and Bizarre

by William Wangemann

  Detective William Rothe displays the murder weapon and blackjack he found in Jocis’s ashbin. Author’s collection.

  Officers immediately took Jocis into custody and performed a paraffin test on his hands, which proved that he had recently fired a gun. After a lengthy interrogation by Chief Wagner and the district attorney, Jocis broke down and gave a complete confession.

  Norbert Jocis was charged with second-degree murder, and a trial was set to begin on May 24, 1937. A jury was impaneled, and the next day the trial began. Just three days later, on May 26, all the witnesses had been heard and the jury began to deliberate. After five hours the jury contacted the judge and informed him they had reached a verdict. The defendant, Jocis, his attorney and the district attorney filed back into a near-empty courtroom. One of the only spectators present was the wife of Jocis. Judge Detling then asked the foreman of the jury if they had reached a verdict. He replied, “Yes, your honor, we have.” The judge then said, “The defendant will rise and face the jury.” The judge then said, “Please read your findings,” to which the foreman of the jury replied, “We the jury, find Norbert Jocis guilty of murder in the second degree.” The wife of Norbert Jocis buried her head in her hands and cried out, “No!” Judge Detling then set a date for sentencing. It was later learned that after they finished their deliberations, the members of the jury had cast only one ballot to arrive at their verdict. On May 28, 1937, Norbert Jocis, then twenty-eight, was sentenced by Judge Detling to a term of fourteen to twenty years and was immediately transported by the sheriff to the Wisconsin State Prison at Waupon.

  On March 30, 1937, a funeral was held for Officer Theodore Husting. Officers from throughout the Midwest attended, along with hundreds of his Masonic brothers who, after the religious rites were completed, conducted a full Masonic burial rite. Along the entire route to the cemetery, hundreds of silent spectators lined the streets. It was later said that this was probably the largest funeral the city had ever seen.

  One of the bitter ironies of the young officer’s death was the fact that Officer Husting died for less than one dollar in coins, which his murderer lost in his desperate attempt to escape.

  A SHOOTING AT THE CASINO

  One of the strangest sentences in the history of Sheboygan County for the crime of shooting another person was handed down on the shooting and eventual death of a young man named Arman McWilliams.

  By June 1929, the full implications of the Volstead Act, better known as Prohibition, were beginning to become clear to the 100-plus taverns in the city. In the year 1929, it seems that Sheboygan had acquired a rather tarnished reputation based on two facts: the number of taverns in the city and the number of houses of ill repute, all of which operated openly in the city and county with little or no hindrance from authorities. It’s interesting to note that in the year 1918, the year before Prohibition, over 120 taverns operated in the city. In 1920, the year that Prohibition became effective, the city directory showed 120 “soft drink parlors.” Its curious how the city tavern owners, who continued to operate openly, had almost overnight convinced all their patrons to shun “demon rum” and drink only soft drinks. It was in this time frame that the following tale took place.

  On the quiet Sunday morning of June 23, 1929, the Sheboygan County sheriff received a call at 5:45 a.m. that a shooting had taken place and a man was down at a roadhouse named the Casino. The Casino was famous, or infamous according to your point of view, as a speakeasy and house of ill repute and was located on the west side of what is now the 3600 block of Business Drive. There is now a large gas station and mini-mart at this location.

  The call had been placed by the owner of the Casino, Kelly Howell, who was described by the media as a gambler and tavern operator. Sheriff Louis Tasche responded to the call. Arriving at the Casino, he entered the establishment through a door that led to a front porch. Just inside the door, the sheriff found a young man lying on the porch floor with what appeared to be a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The victim was unconscious but appeared to be alive. The sheriff then entered the bar itself and summoned an ambulance to transport the seriously wounded young man to St. Nicholas Hospital. The victim was identified as twenty-three-year-old Arman McWilliams of Sheboygan.

  The Casino Roadhouse, the scene of the murder of Arman MacWilliams. Courtesy Sheboygan County Historic Research Center.

  As soon as the ambulance had been called, the proprietor of the Casino rushed up to the sheriff and told him he had shot McWilliams in self-defense. The sheriff noted that there were several other persons in the bar, all of whom had been witnesses to the shooting. The sheriff, quite naturally, assumed that with the tavern owner’s blurted-out confession and the number of witnesses present this would be an open and shut case. He couldn’t have been more wrong!

  The sheriff warned the witnesses not to leave the premises until he could get a statement from each of them. Kelly Howell was the first to be interviewed. Howell related that he was working behind the bar of his tavern when at about 5:30 a.m. Arman McWilliams and several friends came into the bar. Howell said that as soon as he saw them, he realized that McWilliams and his buddies were drunk, which, according to Howell, meant big trouble. Howell said later that McWilliams had a reputation of being a mean drunk and that he feared for his safety. Howell related that he and McWilliams had, as he put it, “bad blood” between them. It seems that several months before, Howell had accused McWilliams of stealing three jugs of moonshine from his basement, an accusation that McWilliams denied.

  On the day of the shooting, not wanting any trouble with McWilliams, Howell ordered him and his friends out of the bar, but McWilliams refused. Howell then related that McWilliams started toward him in a threatening manner and began to come around the end of the bar. It might be noted that McWilliams was a good deal younger than Howell and larger in stature, giving Howell good reason to fear him. Howell then picked up a .25-caliber automatic he kept behind the bar for just such occasions. Some witnesses claimed later that at this point Howell said, “Stop or I’ll shoot,” to which McWilliams is said to have replied, “Go ahead shoot me.” Howell then fired one shot, hitting McWilliams in the abdomen. Some of the witnesses said that the wounded man staggered back and leaned against the wall for a few seconds and then walked to a table, sat down and put his head down on his arms and seemed to pass out. After a short time, McWilliams got up, went out on the porch, sat down and passed out on the floor, where, after having been called, the sheriff found him.

  Sheriff Tasche then interviewed the other witnesses, one by one. The more stories he heard from witnesses the more confused he became. One bar patron said that McWilliams was “sober as a judge” when he came in, another said he was “drunk as a skunk” and yet another said he heard no gunshot and didn’t know there was a shooting until the sheriff arrived. One of the bar patrons said McWilliams made no threatening moves toward Howell whatsoever and that he shot him with no warning, adding that, in his opinion, Howell shot McWilliams over the three jugs of missing moonshine. After the sheriff collected all the stories from the bar patrons, Kelly Howell was taken into custody on a charge of “assault with intent to do great bodily harm” and transported to the county jail. The following day, Howell made an appearance in court, was arraigned and bail was set at $3,000, which Howell posted; he was then released pending a hearing.

  But Sheriff Tasche had a real dilemma: he had a gunshot victim, a confessed shooter and witnesses galore, none of whom could agree. But what he didn’t have was a clear understanding of what had taken place in the shabby roadhouse or, for that matter, a motive.

  When the ambulance arrived at St. Nicholas Hospital with the wounded McWilliams, the doctor on call realized that he was in very serious condition and would need immediate surgery, and he called for a surgeon. Dr. Conrad Tasche, a well-known Sheboygan surgeon, arrived a short time later. After a quick examination, Dr. Tasche stated that the patient was in grave danger and ordered him into surgery. After emergency surgery, McWillia
ms’s condition just did not seem to improve, and it was feared that he might soon die. With this in mind, the district attorney felt compelled to take a dying declaration from McWilliams so as to get his version of what had taken place that fateful day. The statement later on was questioned, as Howell’s attorney claimed that McWilliams had not been advised that his death was imminent. However, on June 28, just five days after he was shot, Arman McWilliams seemed to be improving. Dr. Tasche advanced the opinion that he was reasonably sure that McWilliams was going to survive. Early in the morning of July 1, 1929, twenty-three-year-old Arman McWilliams died. What had been a case of assault with intent to do great bodily harm was now a case of murder.

  Kelly Howell was rearrested and charged with murder in the first degree. He was again held in the county jail until a hearing could be held. Bail was set at $10,000. On July 5, a coroner’s jury was impaneled, and the facts surrounding the alleged murder were presented to them. After listening to all the facts and reading McWilliams’s questionable dying declaration, the jury declared that the shooting of Arman McWilliams, which caused his death, was unjustified and that therefore a crime had taken place. Kelly Howell was bound over to circuit court and held in the county jail, with no bail being set. McWilliams’s attorney appealed this decision in a plea to the circuit court. After considering the plea, the judge kept the bail at $10,000.

  The trial of Kelly Howell on the charge of first-degree murder began in mid-September 1929. From the very onset of the trial, the case presented by the state was in trouble. Witness after witness was called by the state, many of them contradicting one another. Some, on recall to the stand, contradicted their own testimony. And then there was the contested dying declaration of McWilliams, which Howell’s attorney claimed was invalid. After two weeks of testimony, the case at last went to the jury for deliberation on September 24. Prior to the jury retiring, the presiding judge’s charge to the jury took thirty-five minutes to read. The judge explained to the jurors that they had six different charges to consider, and in his opinion first-degree murder was not one of them because the state had failed to prove its case. After a long deliberation, the jurors informed the judge that they were deadlocked at nine to three for conviction. The judge refused to accept their report and sent them back to deliberate once more. Again, after twenty hours the jurors reported they were hopelessly deadlocked at seven to five for conviction. At this point, the judge dismissed the jury.

  The district attorney assured everyone that Howell would be retried. After months of wrangling, the charges against Howell were reduced to fourth-degree murder, to which Howell agreed to plead guilty. On May 7, 1930, Kelly Howell pled guilty in court to fourth-degree manslaughter, was assessed a $750 fine, which he paid, and walked out of court a free man.

  THE DEATH OF A NATURALIST

  As you drive down the scenic road leading into Sheboygan County Marsh, just before you enter the park area look to your left and you may see a small marker indicating that this is the site of the cabin owned by John Sexton. And just who was John Sexton? Much like the famous John Muir in California, John L. Sexton was a naturalist. As an old man, John could often be seen wandering the fields and forests near the marsh, collecting specimens of the flora and fauna of Sheboygan County. I am sure if John L. Sexton would have been given a choice as to how he would like to be remembered, it would be as a teacher, scholar and friend of the outdoors.

  Murder victim John Sexton. Courtesy Sheboygan County Historic Research Center.

  Born in 1822, John came to the township of Russell in 1851, where he became the first postmaster and schoolteacher in the township. The young man began teaching school in a crudely built one-room log schoolhouse in section 12 of the town of Russell, on a road that today is named after him. It was not uncommon for him to have upward of thirty students at a time and be teaching eight different grades at once.

  John married and had three sons and one daughter. Besides being postmaster, the young family man later became a justice of the peace in the town of Russell. As can be seen from a report John sent to the government, the job of postmaster was not a time-consuming one. A report submitted by him for the period of September 30 to December 31, 1862, showed that $1.93 was collected for postage. His commission was $1.52, and the balance due the government came to $0.41. During the succeeding quarter, he did a bit better: he collected $3.21 in postage, his commission was $2.46 and he submitted $0.75 to the government.

  When not teaching or working in the post office, John was a familiar sight around the marsh and Elkhart Lake, notebook in hand recording his observations as he wandered through his beloved Kettle Moraine hills. John was no doubt a naturalist and one of the first to appreciate the beauty and wonder of our county.

  As John’s children grew up and married, they left the area, and all seemed well. Then suddenly, his young wife died, leaving him a middle-aged widower. John sold the family home and moved into a small cabin on the Kiel road, which is today the main entrance to the marsh.

  The area around John’s cabin soon became a jumble of rocks, odd-shaped roots, Indian artifacts and anything else that he was interested in. The inside of his home many would consider intolerably cluttered. Stacks of books and magazines, some nearly one hundred years old, notebooks and papers were piled nearly to the ceiling; only narrow paths were left for him to walk through. What other people considered clutter was, to him, his library and a lifetime of collections.

  Even though John sought a solitary life, he was by no means a hermit. His door was always open to visitors. With his frequent visits to the Elkhart area, he became very well known. For guests at nearby resorts, it was an absolute must to make a visit to the old man at his cabin and chat with him, which he always enjoyed. John had let his snowy white hair grow, which by then reached down to his shoulders. He once said he hadn’t had a haircut in twenty-five years.

  A rumor began to circulate that Sexton was very wealthy and had a large sum of cash hidden in his small cabin. One of the people who heard and apparently believed the rumor was a recent Italian immigrant, Anthony Borello. Borello worked in the nearby Rhine Mills limestone quarry near John’s home. It was while working in the quarry that Borello heard the rumor of the hoard of cash Sexton allegedly kept in his cabin.

  On the night of June 28, 1911, Borello entered Sexton’s home with the intent to rob him. Evidence at the crime scene indicated that John had put up a terrific struggle in defense of his life. The following day, the body of eighty-eight-year-old John L. Sexton was found in his cabin, brutally murdered. The victim was stabbed many times, and his throat was slit from ear to ear.

  After an extensive investigation, it was felt that the murderer was Anthony Borello, who it was learned had fled back to his homeland of Italy. Italian authorities were contacted by the Sheboygan County Sheriff’s Department, and they were able to locate, arrest and hold him for American law enforcement officers. A sheriff’s deputy and a detective from the Sheboygan Police Department journeyed to Italy, a trip that took several months, to pick up Borello and return him to Sheboygan County for trial. However, once the U.S. officers arrived in Italy, the Italian authorities refused to release the accused murderer. The Italian judiciary felt that Borello might not get a fair trial in the United States. Borello was then charged with the murder of John Sexton and tried in an Italian court. After a lengthy trial, Borello was found guilty and sentenced to seventeen years in prison.

  During the trial, it was brought out that the total amount of cash Borello found in John Sexton’s cabin was less than $300, the old man’s entire life savings.

  MURDER IN A “SOFT DRINK PARLOR”

  Prohibition, which prohibited the manufacture, sale, barter, transport, export, delivery or furnishing of intoxicating beverages, was a constitutional amendment that had been in effect since January 1920. Also known as the Volstead Act or the Eighteenth Amendment, it was the most ill thought out and flagrantly violated law in the history of our country.

  The governme
nt created a force of only 1,500 federal agents to police the entire country and enforce an extremely unpopular law that many of the agents did not agree with. A force so small was totally incapable of stemming the flood of illicit liquor and beer from illegal stills all over the country. Even local law enforcement often turned a blind eye to saloons that were operating openly. Sheboygan was no exception.

  Prior to the start of Prohibition, the city directory listed over 120 taverns; after Prohibition, the city directory listed 120 “soft drink and ice cream parlors.” The so-called soft drink parlors operated openly with little fear of prosecution. It didn’t take long for the criminal element in our country to step forward to supply the unquenchable thirst of a nation of lawbreakers, and in so doing reaped enormous profits.

  In one of the most corrupt cities of the era, Chicago, gangland wars raged across the city. Mobster gangs competed with one another over rights to distribute illicit alcohol in certain areas of the city. Murders were a commonplace event; a mostly corrupt police force took little action to bring the turf wars to a halt.