Flight 7 Is Missing

by Ken H. Fortenberry

  Two months earlier, violence had erupted in Little Rock over the integration of Central High School and President Dwight D. Eisenhower had placed the state’s National Guard under federal control to restore order in the city and to force integration of the school. On September 25, 1957, nine black students enrolled in Central High School under the protection of the United States Army.

  “He said they were going to do a big integration series as a result of the Little Rock situation and that they have been riding the Southern trains into Chicago, and specifically mentioned the Illinois Central, to see how they are handling the integration problem.”

  Like agent Dexter before him, Nease ignores what he is told about Crosthwaite and before he leaves for the afternoon recommends that the FBI’s Investigation Division consider the “advisability of notifying the Little Rock office” about the undercover group of journalists.

  “Yes!” director Hoover scribbles on the memo as soon as it crosses his desk the next morning, and agents in Little Rock are informed about the impending magazine report.

  Once again, Crosthwaite gets no attention from the nation’s top criminal investigator.

  On Sunday evening, CAB investigator Claude Marvin Schonberger arrives in San Francisco from Washington to begin a more formal investigation of Crosthwaite. The thirty-four-year-old Schonberger, a George Washington University graduate, is not a trained aviation or criminal investigator and until recently had been executive assistant to Sen. William Langer of North Dakota, handling agriculture matters for the lawmaker. Prior to that he had spent eighteen months on the staff of the Kefauver Juvenile Delinquency Committee, investigating pornographic literature and the sale of babies in the black market.

  He seems somewhat of a strange choice to be a key player in helping to solve an aviation crash mystery, but Schonberger also has an impressive aviation background.

  As a lieutenant in the US Army Air Corps during World War II, he flew dangerous bombing missions over Germany in a B-24 Liberator, and during a final run against the Obertraubling airdome near Regensburg, his bomb-laden aircraft was hit by enemy fire and two engines were crippled. Despite the in-air crisis, Schonberger continued his bombing run and remarkably hit all of his intended targets with amazing accuracy.

  That alone demonstrated his courage and flying skills, but less than two weeks later—and more than a dozen bombing missions after the Regensburg incident—his plane was shot down on a bombing mission near the Brenner Pass in Italy, close to the snow-covered alps at the Austrian border. He safely parachuted out of the falling plane, but was captured by the Nazis on February 28, 1945, and held in the notorious Stalag Luft XIII in Nuremberg until the end of the war.

  Schonberger may not be a trained investigator, but he knows a thing or two about aviation—and people. He will be the lead man in the early investigation, mentored by fifteen-year veteran CAB air-safety investigator Charles S. Collar, flown in from Miami. The fifty-six-year-old Collar is a legend in aviation—a former Navy airman and test pilot who began his flying career as a teenage barnstormer and rumrunner during Prohibition. He knows aviation inside out, but doing an extensive background check on Crosthwaite without the eyes, ears, experience, and resources of the FBI will be a tough undertaking.

  Schonberger and Collar methodically plan who they will interview and how they will pursue the case in the coming days. Separately and together, they will interview Pan Am colleagues, friends, and acquaintances of Crosthwaite, and talk with his doctors at the TB sanatorium in Redwood City. They will develop a forty-one-item checklist that includes everything from Crosthwaite’s medical records and work history to where he bought his booze and how active he was in the union. Although they are working under tremendous pressure, they don’t want to miss anything, and their time in California is limited; they must make good use of every minute.

  At six foot four Schonberger is a towering and impressive figure—some might even say intimidating, if only because of his height. The intimidation factor may assist him in obtaining information in the coming days, and he is fully aware of that. Sometimes all he has to do is look firmly at someone to get them to suddenly remember things.

  Born on a family farm, Schonberger learned about not only the land, but also about people, from his father, a past chairman of the North Dakota Federation of Labor and a leader in farming issues. The younger Schonberger is a quick learner and has inherited many of his father’s people skills. He is on a career fast track at the CAB and knows that this investigation is critical not only on its face, but also for how it might help him advance in the agency.

  Collar and Schonberger make a good combination. Collar is a little rougher around the edges; his approach more direct. Schonberger is more of a smooth talker and a better listener. They are the classic “good cop-bad cop.”

  It doesn’t take the team long to realize that the information Pan Am’s legal officer, Locke, recently passed on to their CAB superiors about Crosthwaite is not only accurate, but in some ways making their work a bit easier.

  It’s clear after their first day on the streets that there are two Gene Crosthwaites.

  Crosthwaite number one is a person who is considered by some to be a “regular American,” a fine family man, a good purser who likes his job, and a normal guy who mixes well with others.

  Crosthwaite number two is a blowhard with a so-so job performance who always blames someone else when something goes wrong. He is insincere, a nutcase, a bully. He’s paranoid and on the edge of a total breakdown.

  Investigator Schonberger first learns about Crosthwaite number two when he interviews John Huston, a Pan Am purser who lived with Crosthwaite for several months when both were in Hong Kong.

  “Tell me about his family, what you know about children, his relationships,” Schonberger says to Huston.

  “Well, he may have a son, but he only had one daughter.”

  “A son?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. He may not have.”

  “And only one daughter?”

  “The other one is adopted, but he never mentioned her. You wouldn’t even know she existed. I read his obituary in the paper the other day and it said he had some brothers. I thought that was weird because he never mentioned them either. Come to mention it, he never even talked about his mother. I also thought it was kinda strange about them having that Catholic service for him. I didn’t know he even had any religion.”

  “You lived with him for what, two, three months?”

  “Yeah, when we were in Hong Kong.”

  “What about his work performance? What do you know about the kind of job he did?”

  “Well, he knew how to do his job, I know that. But his service was erratic. I’ve heard other crew members complain about him. He bragged a lot, and he wasn’t liked much by anyone that I know of at Pan Am. I’ve heard tell that he was involved in something illegal while he was in Hong Kong, but I don’t know about that. They say he has some enemies over there and that might be why Pan Am sent him back to California, but I don’t know that either.”

  Schonberger learns even more about Crosthwaite number two when he interviews John Campbell, an insurance broker and former Pan Am employee. Campbell had written the insurance policies on Crosthwaite’s house, furniture, and car.

  “His wife had a better credit rating than he did. I always thought that was kind of strange. I mean, she never had a full-time job that I know of and didn’t make anywhere near as much as he did.”

  “Tell me about his personality. What was he like?” Schonberger asks.

  “Well, the last time I saw him was about two months before the crash. Ever since he was in the hospital for TB, he was a screwball.”

  “What do you mean?” asks Collar.

  “Well, it’s hard to say exactly. He just didn’t seem to be the same. He wasn’t sincere or anything. He was just kind of like a weirdo, a screwball. I don’t know.”

  Crosthwaite number one comes solidly into the picture when the investigat
ors drive up to Palo Alto and speak with Jim Scanlon, a Pan Am pilot who had flown with Crosthwaite numerous times in the past couple of years.

  “He was a good purser. Had a strong personality. You know his wife died a few months ago, don’t you? He said he was kinda glad to see her go because she was out of pain,” Scanlon tells the investigators.

  “Did he ever say anything bad about Pan Am?” Collar asks him.

  “Not that I know of. I think he had a good attitude towards the company. He seemed like a regular guy.”

  As Schonberger and Collar continue to interview the people on their checklist, they are puzzled by what they are learning—and not learning. After talking with more than a dozen people they still don’t understand who Crosthwaite is. They decide that it’s time to visit that cop in Santa Cruz who told the fellow from Pan Am that Crosthwaite was a psycho.

  The investigators meet with Sgt. Herbert G. Johnson in the annex of the Santa Cruz Courthouse—the same office where Crosthwaite had been speaking in circles a few weeks earlier.

  “He was badly disturbed,” Sergeant Johnson tells the investigators. “Twitching all the time. Talking out of his head. Frankly, I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. He just rambled and rambled.”

  Johnson then tells them essentially the same story the CAB had given to the FBI in the unsuccessful attempt to get Hoover involved: Crosthwaite was paranoid. He was depressed. Pan Am was trying to get rid of him. His daughter was responsible for his wife’s death.

  Finally, it’s time to talk with Crosthwaite’s family, starting with his mother, Mary. They drive to Stockton, where she weaves them a story about the good Gene—Crosthwaite number one.

  She tells them he had a happy childhood except for that time he fell off a burro and hurt his head.

  “He had bad headaches for years after that. They’d come and go. He wasn’t bedridden with them or anything, though.”

  “Was he still having headaches?” Collar asks.

  “I’m not really sure. They might have gone away the past few years, but I don’t know.”

  “Did you see him much? Did he come and visit you often?” Schonberger asks.

  “Well, he was out of the country a lot, you know. I really haven’t heard from him much in the past ten years or so, but I did go to visit him when he was in the TB hospital.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Schonberger asks. “Did you notice anything different about him?’

  “It was the twelfth of August. I wrote it on my calendar. No, he didn’t seem any different to me.”

  She goes on to tell the investigators how devoted he was to Julia, his late wife.

  “He seemed real happy until Julia died. He called me the Monday before his last flight and said, ‘Mother, I’ve never been able to do anything for you. I’d like to take you on a vacation to Honolulu.’ You know, he loved to fly. He was real happy with his job. I don’t know. Maybe he had a premonition of some kind that he wasn’t going to be flying much more.”

  They leave her home with more questions in their heads, but they have established two things: Crosthwaite number one was an all-American boy. And Crosthwaite number two? Well, he seemed to be something of a devil.

  Collar and Schonberger interview numerous people over the next several days, then head to Felton as their investigation winds down. It’s time to talk with Crosthwaite’s stepdaughter, Tania, and to then search Crosthwaite’s house for any clues that might help them determine if he sabotaged the plane.

  Tania is still somewhat in a state of shock when they knock on the door. She’s lost her mother and her stepfather in a period of just three months, and the sixteen-year-old is worried about how she is going to cope. No job. No hope of a job. A grandmother who speaks little English, and no stepfather to put a roof over their heads and food on their table.

  The investigators identify themselves and are cordial, but professional. Tania is scared stiff and answers their questions, but doesn’t offer anything else. A lot of yesses and nos. If asked, she answers directly and succinctly, offering nothing more. It’s not that she’s trying to deceive the CAB investigators, it’s just that she is so afraid of what tomorrow might bring if she says the wrong things.

  She tells the investigators some chilling details about her stepfather—Crosthwaite number two—and the information she shares further deepens their suspicions about the purser. She says that Crosthwaite believed that Pan Am was planning to fire him, he was depressed, mean, and downright angry. He kept his bedroom door locked and was gloomy all the time.

  The investigators also talk with her stepgrandfather, Peter Stub, and what he tells them further strengthens the mounting case against Crosthwaite as a possible suicidal murderer:

  Stub tells them that completely out of the blue a few days before the crash, Crosthwaite showed him some blasting powder. Stub says he thought that was strange because they could have used the powder earlier to blow up some stumps in the yard that had since been removed. Stub says he asked Crosthwaite why didn’t he get the powder when they could have used it, but he didn’t respond.

  A day or so later Schonberger and Collar return to the Crosthwaite house and tear it apart in a futile search for the blasting powder —some evidence that might help them solve the mystery.

  The blasting powder is never found.

  Collar and Schonberger don’t bother to talk with Crosthwaite’s Russian mother-in-law or even his sisters or brothers. Maybe the language barrier was too much for the investigators to cross with his mother-in-law, but Tania had often acted as her translator and could have done so for the CAB men if they had asked. Why they don’t interview his siblings could be as simple as the fact that they didn’t live anywhere near the San Francisco Bay Area and time was running out on their mission.

  On Saturday, December 14, 1957, the investigators return to the house in Felton, where Tania and Stub sign statements based upon what they had told the investigators a few days earlier:

  SWORN STATEMENT

  Tania Crosthwaite

  I am the daughter by adoption of Oliver Eugene Crosthwaite. I was born in Shanghai, China, on December 11, 1940. My mother who died on August 12, 1957 was Julia C. Crosthwaite, the second wife of Oliver Eugene Crosthwaite. My real father’s name was Korning Fabrena who disappeared during World War II while serving with the Russian Army. After my stepfather married my mother on January 21, 1947 in Shanghai, China, they preceded me to the United States. Because of passport difficulties, I followed them to the United States later and was adopted by my stepfather February 7, 1949, County of San Mateo court action number 47658. All the time I have known my stepfather he has been employed by Pan American World Airways and as a result of this employment, we traveled to China several times. Since returning from China in 1956, we have lived in our present home on Hillside Drive in Felton, California.

  My stepfather contracted tuberculosis in 1955 and entered the San Mateo County Sanitorium located at 200 Edmonds Road, Redwood City, California, on October 22, 1955. He was discharged from the sanatorium April 12, 1956 as an arrested case of TB. Prior to entering the TB Sanitorium, my stepfather was normal and only the usual stepfather relationship existed. However, following his release from the TB Sanitorium, he appeared to be an entirely different man, both physically and mentally.

  He gained about sixty pounds and became most difficult to live with. The slightest unusual incident on either my mother’s or my part would cause him to become most upset and angry. After my mother died of cancer, he became even more unbearable and accused me of causing my mother’s death because of worry over my actions. He would keep the bedroom door to his room locked constantly. At one time, he even tried to have me committed to a disciplinary institution. Just prior to his last flight, we used to have many severe arguments and during one of these, he even threatened to disinherit me.

  Just four days before leaving on his last flight, he gathered many of the papers in his desk and drawer and burned them. My grandmothe
r, by protesting, prevented him from burning my adoption papers at that time.

  My stepfather never was a devout Catholic, but he always wore a cross suspended from a chain around his neck. After his death, we found he had a safety-deposit box in the Bank of America in Santa Cruz. And in this box was this chain and cross wrapped around my mother’s and stepfather’s wedding rings.

  Other items in this box consisted of four insurance policies: one for $1,000 insuring me; one for $3,000 insuring my father; one fire and lightning policy insuring our house; and one policy on our auto. Only three other packages were in the box and they contained my mother’s jewelry.

  On the day my father left for his last flight, he left the house at 0730 or 0745 in the morning. He carried two suitcases, a gladstone bag, a valet pack, and a briefcase. My grandmother says he always carries these bags on trips.

  My stepfather and my grandfather built our home and my stepfather did much of the electrical wiring and the plumbing in the house. My stepfather liked to make things. He had a shop near the house and liked to make gadgets.

  At one time I heard my stepfather express the opinion that he thought Pan American World Airways was trying to fire him from his job.

  During his off-duty time, my stepfather usually was gone from the house and did not seem to have too many friends.

  (Signed)

  Tania Crosthwaite

  Witness: Claude M. Schonberger

  Stub’s statement mirrors much of Tania’s but goes into detail about the blasting powder that has mysteriously disappeared:

  SWORN STATEMENT

  Peter Stub

  I married Katherine Stub whose daughter was the former wife of Oliver Eugene Crosthwaite. Gene and I did most of the work in building our home on Hillside Avenue, Felton, California.

  During the whole week before Gene left on his last flight, he spent all his time here at home working on the plumbing in our home.

  About the 1st or 2nd of November, just before Gene left on his last flight, he called me to the house from the yard where I was about to wash my car and said, “Look what I have.” Gene had a few small pieces or grains of granular blasting powder consisting of about 20 pieces cupped in his hand. Gene stated this blasting powder was what he had meant when he earlier mentioned an explosive for blasting stumps in our yard. I said it was too late now to use this because our land is already cleared and asked him why he didn’t get the blasting powder earlier when we could have used it. Gene didn’t answer. Gene returned to some plumbing work he was doing in the basement of our home and then I started to wash my car.