The Lindbergh Baby Case page 2

The furore which swept the country, as news of the crime spread, brought in an avalanche of clues, most of which were worthless. But from the confused detail that piled up one fact stood clear - the kidnappers knew about Lindbergh s movements and knew their way about the house and grounds. Yet the only real clues were the rickety home-made ladder which was searched and searched again for fingerprints, a chisel intended to serve as a jemmy, and traces of footprints found in the road.

At first it was thought that a promising clue had been provided by a penny postcard dropped in a letter-box at Newark on which, in rude characters, had been scrawled: "Chas. Lindbergh, Princeton, New Jersey. Baby safe. Instructions later. Act accordingly."

There was no signature. When the police, expecting to make an arrest, turned up in large numbers in Newark, there also appeared a large crowd ready to lynch the kidnapper had he been discovered.

On the second day of the search Col. Lindbergh again took charge. The crowds in and around the gardens were now worse than ever. Instead of avoiding publicity by building their home in the woods, the Lindberghs had courted it. All through the day the roads were black with cars. It seemed as though they were a gigantic funeral cortege. Above the house large passenger air-liners circled and banked so that their occupants could gaze down at the rambling two-and-a-half storey house on the hilltop to which tragedy had come, to its lawns crowded with blue-coated police and the colourful figures of the troopers and the newspapermen. Among them, if they were lucky, the spectators might even catch sight of the Public Hero, his eyes red-rimmed from sleeplessness, his jaw set hard and even more determined than on that memorable day when he climbed into the cockpit of his plane and flew away to Paris and world-fame.

Inside the house Mrs. Lindbergh hoped on, worked on. Forgetting time, impervious to bodily needs, her mind carrying always the picture of an empty cradle, she engaged herself to feed the army of police and troopers who were making her home their headquarters while they sought for Public Enemy No. 1. The large company of journalists, who had made the garage their clearing-house, were invited, after a time, to find other quarters, for their messages were causing a breakdown in all communications to the house. They presently found a home in the office of the Governor of the State!

On the evening of the second day the police announced that they were working on eight separate clues. Meanwhile everybody in the house was fingerprinted. Betty Gow was questioned and questioned again. So were the other servants. The police were seeking to discover through whom the kidnappers obtained their inside information. But they were compelled to the conclusion that all residing in the house were guiltless of co-operation with the kidnappers.

After a long spell of searching and many detentions the police provided the first of many new sensations in connection with the case. They took into their keeping a man named Johnson, once a seaman, who admitted that he was a close friend of Betty Gow. He was brought to New Jersey and closely examined as to his movements about the time of the abduction; but he, like Miss Gow, was able to give a perfectly satisfactory explanation, even to the presence of an empty milk-bottle in his car. He carried milk, he said, because his doctor had ordered him to drink it!

It was now brought to the attention of the Lindberghs that if the public were shown the film of their child which had been privately taken, it might aid in his discovery. So the film was released, and it became the most sought-after picture of the month.

False clues continued to rain on the house of Lindbergh. The baby had been seen in Sixth Avenue, New York; in White Plains, in charge of a blonde woman; in Chicago, in Buffalo, and Washington; even in far-off Europe, to which one first-class detective was dispatched to follow up what seemed to be a promising clue. While the airman, wearing boots stained with the mountain mud, raced away time and again with State troopers, only to return and confess that he had been chasing a will-o'-the-wisp, his wife would occasionally be seen peering down from the nursery window from which the child had been spirited away. Her face would be white, drawn and almost despairing.

As the days slipped by both husband and wife felt that they must go beyond the police inquiries to get into communication with the kidnappers. An early step was to publish details of the baby's diet, so that those who had charge of him might not damage him further by wrong or over-feeding. Then a pathetic message from the heartbroken parents was circulated:

"Col. and Mrs. Lindbergh not only wish but hope that whoever is in possession of their child will make every effort to communicate with them.

This was followed by a still more heart-stirring appeal, signed by Col. Lindbergh:

"Mrs. Lindbergh and I desire to make personal contact with the kidnappers of our child.

"Our only interest is in his immediate and safe return. We feel certain that the kidnappers will realise that this interest is strong enough to justify them in having complete confidence in any promise we may make in connection with his return.

"We urge those who have the child to send any representatives they desire to meet a representative of ours who will be suitable to them, at any time and at any place that they may designate.

"If this is accepted, we promise that we will keep whatever arrangement that may be made by their representative and ours strictly confidential, and we further pledge ourselves that we will not try to injure in any way those connected in any way with the return of the child."

This in effect was a declaration by the Lindberghs that they were prepared to pay for the return of their child and to guarantee the kidnappers against arrest. Nevertheless, Attorney-General Stevens announced that, regardless of any bargain made with the Lindberghs, the kidnappers would get no mercy from the State if they were caught.

Yet within a week of the loss of their child it was assumed that the Lindberghs were in touch with their enemies, for they were publicly announcing the names of two men well known in the underworld of New York as their representatives. These men had at one time been friends of the notorious Jack Diamond, who had been put "on the spot" the year before, and one of them had a reputation for keeping his word.. These go-betweens, however, failed to get in touch with the kidnappers.

The reason was obvious. All the newspapers had been announcing that a special staff of police were undertaking the perusal of the mail that came to the Lindberghs. So a disclaimer had now to be published to the effect that the Lindbergh mail was opened only by the Lindberghs. Even so, it was feared that the kidnappers would not accept this as gospel truth, that they would suspect the police to be covertly dealing with the Lindbergh letters before they reached Hopewell.

Several weeks passed, and the world was beginning to think they would hear no more of the Lindbergh baby case save as another insoluble mystery. Then a wealthy Norfolk boatbuilder named John H. Curtis startled America with the assertion that he had effected contact with the kidnappers. His claim was supported by a minister of religion named Dr. Peacock, and by a rear-admiral named Burbage. At first the Lindberghs discounted the claim, for they were secretly working on a more promising clue. Reports appeared in the Press that the aviator had been seen flying over water in Massachusetts searching for a particular yacht on which he expected to find his lost son.

Then came another sensation! It was calmly announced on behalf of Colonel Lindbergh that a ransom of £10,000 had been paid by him to the kidnappers after they had been satisfactorily identified as such, upon their agreement to notify him immediately as to the whereabouts of the missing boy. But the child had not been found at the point designated. Several days had been allowed to lapse to give the men an opportunity to keep their word, but they had grossly betrayed it. It had not been the intention of the Lindberghs to make use of the numbers of the notes paid to the kidnappers. But, as they had failed to keep their word, the numbers were published. That publication was, in time, to lead to an important arrest.

Meanwhile the news of this piece of deception, as cruel as the crime itself, fanned the public anger into a stronger flame. It was soon to be stirred again by a still worse horror.

It was now made evident that the kidnapping had been a more carefully planned crime than was generally believed. That note which Colonel Lindbergh had found on the chest in the nursery, though written by a crude hand, was the product of a clear and clever brain. It had bluntly demanded that the aviator have ready £10,000 in denominations specified, had informed him that they would be in touch with him within four days, warned him against making the contents of the letter public or notifying the police, and, as signature, had given a sign of two blue circles joined by a red circle, the blue circles being perforated near the outer edge and the red in its centre.

A few days after the kidnapping, the criminals, true to their word, had sent notes to the Lindberghs repeating their demands for the ransom money and declaring that the child was safe and well. But it was obvious that, for fear of the police, they shrank from establishing contact with the parents. About this a retired schoolmaster named Dr. Condon, 70 years of age, suddenly entered the case by advertising in a local newspaper published in the Bronx area, New York, that he was not only prepared to offer himself as an intermediary, but that he would add £200 of his own money to the £10,000 claimed from the Lindberghs, if the kidnappers would negotiate with him for the return of the child. This was by no means an isolated offer made by interested individuals, who had no standing in this remarkable case. But Dr. Condon's offer differed from the rest, for it soon caught the eye of the kidnappers and elicited a response. He received a peremptory note commanding him to get the authority of Col. Lindbergh to act for him. At the same time the note demanded an extra £4,000 - £14,000 in all - as ransom.

Such an anonymous demand might have been made by anybody. But there was one feature of it which immediately stimulated the interest of the Lindberghs - the three circles appearing on the first ransom letter were correctly arranged on the one sent to Dr. Condon. As these circles could have been known only to the kidnappers, it was clear that Dr. Condon was in touch with the right men, and so negotiations were carefully planned. Condon was given two large safety-pins which had held the baby's blankets, three of his playthings: a toy lion, an elephant and a double-humped camel. He was told how the child would express himself when he asked for these toys.

Condon kept a rendezvous among some gravestones at Woodlawn Cemetery, whereupon a man came out of the darkness and began to whisper. Producing the two pins, Condon asked the man where they came from, and was of course told that they were from the blanket on the crib. Whereupon Condon asked to be shown the child so that he could see by his reaction to the toys that there had been no substitution. This the man refused to do. Condon argued that he was unarmed and there was no danger; but the man, looking fearfully towards the avenue, shook his head.

Condon now suggested that the kidnapper's friend must be very near, that he should be called, and that the two should take him to the child. The man replied that he dare not call his friend or he would be killed. He further declared that the child was on a boat about six hours distant from where they were. But he offered to send Dr. Condon the boy's sleeping-suit as proof that his gang had the baby.

This offer was carried out, and Col. Lindbergh identified the suit as "an infallible token." The garment had been sent in the mail, the package bearing a Brooklyn postmark. With it was a note outlining the procedure to be adopted to secure the child. Dr. Condon was ordered to confer with Col. Lindbergh, who must pay the £14,000 before he saw the baby. When they were willing to do this they must insert an advertisement in the Bronx newspaper saying: "I accept; the money is ready."

From that day Condon became known as "Jafsie," above which name he advertised that he was ready to do business, but only on a C.O.D. basis. He also demanded some assurance other than the sleeping-suit, that the baby was alive. To this he received a reply to the effect that the kidnapping had been planned over a year ago, and that the gang would not be moved from their stated terms. The baby was well. A search for him would be fruitless. Again Condon advocated C.O.D., but was again informed that the baby was safe, and that sufficient proof had already been given of the truth of their claims.

Faced with ruthless men of low mentality who were unwilling to make the slightest compromise, Col. Lindbergh at last reluctantly agreed that Dr. Condon should hand over the money.

And now there took place in New York a scene which is almost incredible. While the police of the world were exhausting every clue in their search for the kidnappers, the famous father of the missing infant, who himself might have been kidnapped for his pains, followed Dr. Condon to St. Raymond's Cemetery, where the kidnappers were handed the sum of £10,000.

The story of that weird night's proceedings reads like a chapter from a startling novel.

Col. Lindbergh waited in Dr. Condon's home until the summons came to repair to a rendezvous as yet unknown to them. As they waited, a taxi-driver, who later was to figure in the great trial, drove up to the door and delivered a note directing Dr. Condon to go at once to a flower nursery in East Tremont Avenue. The message said that further directions would be found in a note placed under a stone beneath a table outside the nursery. Dr. Condon obeyed, and the second note was found. It directed him to cross the street and walk one block to Whittemore Avenue. As he did so he glanced upwards at a street sign, whereupon a man and a woman, who had been strolling towards him, paused for a moment and remarked for no apparent reason, "This is Whittemore Avenue." The sign!