For The Thrill Of It: Leopold, Loeb, And The Murder That Shocked Chicago

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For The Thrill Of It: Leopold, Loeb, And The Murder That Shocked Chicago Page 13

by Simon Baatz


  13

  And the discovery of his son's eyeglasses near the body of Bobby Franks? That also was merely a coincidence; his son had been birdwatching the previous weekend close to the culvert: "Nathan has been a student of ornithology for many years and has written numerous articles and papers on the subject. He has contributed to the bird magazine,

  The Auk. There is nothing to this."14

  The family's faith in Nathan was complete. This trust in the boy's veracity could not be shaken, even in the face of a growing accumulation of evidence that tied him ever more closely to the murder. His elder brothers were also present at the interview with the journalists that Friday; one brother dismissed any possibility of a connection: "The idea of Nathan having anything to do with the Franks boy's death is too silly to discuss. The family is not particularly alarmed for we know just what he did the night the Franks boy disappeared; we know just how he occupied his time, and we know that he can account of himself. If he can help any in solving the crime, so much the better. We know so well where he was that night, we know our brother so well, that we are in no way alarmed at his examination by police."

  15

  A few blocks away, at the Loeb house on Ellis Avenue, Anna Loeb was equally convinced that her son was blameless. She faced the reporters that Friday to tell them that neither her son nor Nathan Leopold had anything to do with the murder. "We have absolute confidence that Richard is telling the truth. The implication that either he or the young Leopold are involved in the Franks case is impossible on its face. No matter the circumstances of the spectacles, the idea of connecting them with the crime is absurd."

  16

  Ernest Loeb echoed his mother's assurance. There would be no difficulty in providing Richard with an alibi, he told the reporter from the New York

  World, since he was sure that his brother had been in the presence of family members that day. "We know exactly where Dick was every hour of this particular Wednesday and he could not have done the thing the police are charging him with."17

  The failure of either family to comprehend the gravity of the boys' situation translated into a complacency that over the next forty-eight hours was exposed as astonishing naivete. Both families expressed a wish to assist the state's attorney in solving the murder, yet neither realized, until it was far too late, that Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold had become the leading suspects. The families saw no reason to call in their lawyers to go to the Criminal Court Building to advise the boys. As a consequence, Robert Crowe had already had them in custody for almost twenty-four hours without yet making a formal arrest, and without even having to justify their continued detention.

  Nathan Leopold's father was self-consciously complicit in the state's attorney's decision to hold his son for questioning. In response to an inquiry from a reporter from the

  Chicago Daily Tribune, he expressed confidence in both the state's attorney's integrity and his son's innocence. "While it is a terrible ordeal both to my boy and myself to have him under even a possibility of suspicion, yet our attitude will be one of helping the investigation rather than retarding it. . . . And even though my son is subjected to the hardships and embarrassment of being kept from his family until the authorities are thoroughly satisfied . . . yet my son should be willing to make the sacrifice, and I am also willing for the sake of justice and truth."18

  Robert Crowe could scarcely believe his luck. Crowe was now sure that Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were the murderers. All the clues pointed to that conclusion. Leopold's handwriting matched that on the envelope enclosing the ransom letter addressed to Jacob Franks; Leopold's eyeglasses had been found near the corpse; the boys were lovers who had concocted an alibi that could not be confirmed; and at that moment, late on Friday afternoon, he was getting news that detectives had discovered typed legal notes belonging to Leopold that matched the typed ransom letter delivered to Jacob Franks the day after the murder.

  Yet he continued to hold both suspects for questioning without any interference from either family! Eventually, Crowe thought to himself, one or both families would surely alert the lawyers to the boys' plight.

  He had to get the boys to confess before their lawyers could shut their mouths. Neither boy had yet asked for a lawyer; neither boy had refused to answer his questions. How, therefore, could he wring a confession out of them, a confession that would surely send them to the gallows? And could he get that confession before lawyers for the boys appeared with a writ of habeas corpus?

  Crowe received help in his task from an unexpected quarter. Two cub reporters from the

  Chicago Daily News, Alvin Goldstein and James Mulroy, had been following the case from the beginning. Goldstein had been at the morgue on South Houston Avenue after the discovery of the body; Mulroy had driven with Edwin Greshan from the Franks home to check the identity of the boy lying on the undertaker's slab. Both reporters were recent graduates of the University of Chicago; they knew the campus well and still had many friends at the university.

  They also knew Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. Goldstein was a member of Zeta Beta Tau fraternity, and he and Loeb had become acquaintances during Loeb's postgraduate year at the university. Neither boy was then an undergraduate, but both boys spent time at the fraternity clubhouse, playing cards, swapping stories, and keeping up with fraternity gossip.

  19

  Both Goldstein and Mulroy were surprised that Nathan and Richard were in police custody. But if Nathan was a suspect, could they match the typewritten notes for his law classes with the ransom letter sent to Jacob Franks? Alvin Goldstein knew that Nathan had belonged to an informal study group at the law school; the boys in this group met each week to go over legal cases and type up a set of notes for the group. He asked around; sure enough, several boys had copies of the notes.

  20

  It did not take Robert Crowe long to confirm the reporters' hunch that one typewriter, a portable Underwood, had been used for both the ransom letter and Nathan Leopold's legal notes. This was one link in the chain of evidence that Nathan would find difficult to break!

  But to forge that link, Crowe needed to find the typewriter. If it was in Nathan's study, the case against Nathan would be sealed as tight as a drum.

  Forty minutes later, the police were back at the house on Greenwood Avenue. William Shoemacher's men searched again through the study and bedroom. Nathan's aunt was puzzled; the police had taken away Nathan's Hammond typewriter earlier that day; did the detectives not know that it was already at the Criminal Court Building?

  Shoemacher explained that he was looking for a second typewriter, a portable Underwood--had any of the staff seen Nathan using a portable typewriter? He questioned the maids--what could they tell him?

  Elizabeth Sattler hesitated. She had worked for the Leopolds for four years; she liked her employer and was reluctant to hurt the family; but she had a strong sense of duty and the police captain was persistent. She stepped forward.

  "Yes, that typewriter was here."

  Shoemacher felt a thrill of appreciation at the words. The link was forged; the net was closing around Nathan. He looked directly at the maid.

  "When did you see it last?"

  "I seen it two weeks ago."

  "Well, what became of it?"

  "I don't know, it ought to be around here."21

  The detectives searched everywhere for the Underwood, but it was

  not in the boy's bedroom or study; there was no sign of it in the library; there was no trace in any of the other rooms in the house. But Elizabeth's testimony was vital--the police may not have been able to locate the typewriter, but now they knew that it had been in the house only a few days before the murder of Bobby Franks.

  * * *

  The questioning began again that Friday at 6:30 p.m. Both Nathan and Richard had woken up around three o'clock in the afternoon; the detectives had given them time to wash, to catch a bite to eat, and to prepare for the evening's interrogation before driving them back to the Cr
iminal Court Building.

  Joseph Savage, an assistant state's attorney working in Robert Crowe's office, asked Nathan about the portable typewriter. What could Nathan tell him about it? Nathan replied that he remembered having seen a typewriter at his house, but, of course, it was not his; it belonged, no doubt, to one of the boys in his study group.

  During the winter and spring quarters at the law school, Nathan had studied with four friends at his house. In preparing for the first-year exams, it was usual practice among the students at the University of Chicago law school to study a number of cases, to winnow the points of law from each individual case, and to classify them. The students even had a slang expression--"dope sheeting"--for this form of study; the law students would customarily discuss the principal points and type up a summary of the points on "dope sheets" for each member of the group.

  22

  "The only typewriter other than my own," Nathan explained, "that I ever used in my home was a portable typewriter, what make I don't know, which I had there for a few weeks for the purpose of dope sheeting for law courses."

  "Whose typewriter was that?" Savage asked.

  "It belonged to one of the boys in the dope section; I am not sure which one."

  23

  The five boys usually worked upstairs, in Nathan's study on the third f loor, but occasionally they would gather in the downstairs library on the first f loor. It was warmer and more comfortable in the library, and the lighting was better. If Nathan's father needed to use the library, then the little group of scholars would make for the third-f loor study.24

  One of his friends, Nathan explained, had brought the portable typewriter into his house. It was necessary because he kept the Hammond typewriter upstairs in his study and that typewriter was fixed on a special table; it was too cumbersome and heavy to lug up and down two flights of stairs every time they wanted to work in the library.

  So the study group had used the portable typewriter in the library. Who had brought it into the house? Again, Nathan was vague; he was not sure, but he thought it might have been Morris Shanberg.

  While Nathan continued to answer Savage's questions that evening, Crowe's detectives fanned out through Chicago to bring in the four boys. Shanberg and another student, Lester Abelson, both lived on the North Side of the city; Arnold Maremont and the fourth member of the group, Howard Oberndorf, lived in Hyde Park, near the university.

  By ten o'clock on Friday evening, all four were at the Criminal Court Building, waiting in offices adjacent to the state's attorney's rooms. In Crowe's office, Nathan was sticking to his story. In front of him, on a table, the police had placed three portable typewriters: a Corona, a Remington, and an Underwood. He was now sure, looking at the examples before him, that he had used an Underwood, but still he denied ownership--he was certain that the typewriter belonged to Morris Shanberg.

  Robert Crowe had been waiting for this moment. He nodded slightly to a sergeant standing on the other side of the room; thirty seconds later, Shanberg, looking nervous, walked into the office. Crowe motioned him to sit down and gestured toward Nathan.

  "Sit down, Shanberg. You know Nathan Leopold, Jr.?" "Yes."

  "You and Nathan have always been good friends?"

  "Well, always since at school, I met him at school. . . ." "Shanberg, during your law course at the University of Chicago,

  you had occasion to go over and work on the dope sheets with Nathan from time to time; is that right?"

  "Yes."

  Joseph Savage picked up the questioning. Savage had always been a stickler for detail; it was important that there be no ambiguity about the student slang: "By dope sheet, you mean that is preparatory work?"

  "Briefing the course as a whole . . ."

  "Do you remember at any time, Shanberg, of seeing a typewriter, a portable typewriter over at Nathan's house?"

  "Only on one occasion; that was the last time I was there."

  "Prior to working on that portable typewriter, you worked with this Hammond typewriter; is that right?"

  "Yes."

  "And who operated the typewriter?"

  "Mr. Leopold, except on occasions when Mr. Leopold went to the phone."

  Morris Shanberg glanced cautiously at Nathan. The other boy returned his look and held it; there was a slight smirk on Nathan's face-- it seemed almost that he was enjoying this moment.

  Shanberg suddenly realized why he was here. It must be that the police had found the typewriter used for the ransom note and Nathan was denying ownership; Nathan was trying to link him to the typewriter and frame him for the murder of Bobby Franks!

  Joseph Savage's voice broke his train of thought: "Now, did you ever own a typewriter, Mr. Shanberg?"

  "No."

  Shanberg's voice was firmer now--less hesitant, less deferential.

  "Did you ever bring one over to Nathan's house?"

  "No, sir."

  "Did you ever know any of the other boys to bring a typewriter over to Nathan's house?"

  "No, sir."25

  The detectives allowed Morris Shanberg to leave. One by one, the three other students entered Crowe's office. Each described in turn the study group, recalled the portable Underwood in the library, and denied any knowledge of its provenance. Howard Oberndorf was the last of the four to speak, and as Oberndorf got up to leave the room, Joseph Savage turned back to Nathan. The assistant state's attorney felt a sense of futility in questioning the boy further--Nathan was sure to stonewall him--but, nevertheless, there was no harm trying. "Nathan, I understood you to say that the typewriter had been taken out again by the boy that brought it in."

  "That was my assumption."

  "You just assumed that?"

  "Yes."

  "You don't know whether it was actually taken out or not?"

  "No, I do not."

  "Or you don't know when it was taken out, if it ever was taken out?"

  "No, I don't."

  "Do you ever remember the typewriter coming in?"

  "I do not."

  "Do you remember under what circumstances it could have come into the house? . . . It would hardly come into the house without some comment at the time the machine was brought there; what I mean is, that one would hardly come in and leave a typewriter at your house without saying something about it?"

  "I should not think so."26

  There was one more possibility. The previous November, he had begun a project with a friend, Leon Mandel, to translate Pietro Aretino's fifteenth-century pornographic novel

  I Ragionamenti into English. This had been a provocative decision on Nathan's part. Aretino's Dialogues between two women contained graphic descriptions of sodomy and bestiality; the sensationalism of the narrative overshadowed the work's literary value. Ernest Wilkins, professor of Italian and dean of the undergraduate college at the university, had warned Nathan not to go through with the translation, but Nathan persisted nevertheless. Both Nathan and Leon Mandel hoped to persuade "some friend of ours to publish a very small little edition, two or three hundred copies, or subscriptions to be circulated only among people who had a legitimate interest in the literature of the times," but it was a more demanding task than either had anticipated: they completed fewer than twenty pages before abandoning the translation.27

  Leon Mandel had, however, frequently come to the Leopold home to work on the translation, and Nathan suggested that he may have brought the Underwood typewriter with him.

  28

  But Elizabeth Sattler had told the police that she had last seen the portable as recently as two weeks ago: that is, around the middle of May, just one week before the murder of Bobby Franks. Leon Mandel had been married on 30 April and had immediately sailed for Europe on his honeymoon. One month later, he was still on his honeymoon, so if the maid had seen the typewriter only two weeks ago, then obviously Mandel had not taken it out of the house. So, Nathan, where was that typewriter?

  "I don't know."

  "If it was Mandel's machine, it would stil
l be there, wouldn't it?" "Yes."

  "These boys say that they never had a machine. Where is that machine? . . . You kept denying, right up until a few minutes ago, that you knew anything about it. . . . It was a machine one of these boys brought in, you didn't know when, where or how, and he took it out, and you didn't know when, where or how."

  "Yes."

  "Then you were confronted with each boy, weren't you?" "Yes."

  "And after the boy told you you were a liar, you changed your opinion, didn't you? . . . The fact that that letter that Franks got was written on the same machine that some of your stuff was written on, and the fact that experts say that the same person wrote it might be a damned good reason for you in losing that machine."

  "Certainly."

  "And knowing nothing about it?"

  "Certainly."29

  Nathan Leopold had now been in police custody for almost thirty-six hours, from Thursday afternoon through the evening of Friday, 30 May. Yet at the Leopold home on Greenwood Avenue, the family's faith in Nathan's innocence remained unshaken; the entire affair was still, in his father's eyes, an unfortunate mistake that would inevitably be corrected.

  Was there anything the family could do to help Nathan in his predicament? Sven Englund, the family chauffeur, told Nathan's father that Nathan could not possibly have abducted Bobby Franks and driven him out to Wolf Lake on 21 May; Englund had spent most of that day working on Nathan's car, fixing the brakes. He remembered the day well; he had been worried over his little girl, his nine-year-old daughter. She had been ill that day, and his wife, Alma, had taken her to the doctor to get a prescription. Englund had worked on the car in the early afternoon, and it had stayed in the garage the entire day.

  30

  The family received the news with triumph. Nathan's father, two brothers, and aunt--all gathered that evening at the house on Greenwood Avenue--knew nothing of his alibi, that he had driven to Lincoln Park in his car. They knew only that Nathan was innocent and Sven Englund's testimony proved it; how could Nathan have been driving around Chicago with the body of the murder victim if his car was in the garage all day?

 

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