For The Thrill Of It Part 6

"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 owners.h.i.+p; 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 a.s.sistant 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 a.s.sumption."

"You just a.s.sumed 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 circ.u.mstances 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 p.o.r.nographic novel The previous November, he had begun a project with a friend, Leon Mandel, to translate Pietro Aretino's fifteenth-century p.o.r.nographic novel I Ragionamenti I Ragionamenti into English. This had been a provocative decision on Nathan's part. Aretino's into English. This had been a provocative decision on Nathan's part. Aretino's Dialogues Dialogues between two women contained graphic descriptions of sodomy and b.e.s.t.i.a.lity; 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 antic.i.p.ated: they completed fewer than twenty pages before abandoning the translation. between two women contained graphic descriptions of sodomy and b.e.s.t.i.a.lity; 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 antic.i.p.ated: 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 still 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 d.a.m.ned good reason for you in losing that machine."

"Certainly."

"And knowing nothing about it?"

"Certainly."29

NATHAN L 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. 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?

That evening Sven Englund waited on a bench outside the state's attorney's office in the Criminal Court Building. Robert Crowe was busy and could not see him. Could Englund not come back the following day, Sat.u.r.day? No, it was important-even if he could not speak to Crowe, the chauffeur would like to talk to one of his a.s.sistants. Englund was persistent; and eventually he managed to tell his story to one of the a.s.sistant state's attorneys.

Englund had been working in the garage at the Leopold house on Wednesday, 21 May, around twelve-thirty in the afternoon. The chauffeur was responsible for five cars: the Leopolds owned a Packard, two Lincolns, a w.i.l.l.ys-Knight, and a Wills Saint Claire. The w.i.l.l.ys-Knight-Nathan's car-was especially distinctive, a maroon sports model with red disk wheels, nickel-plated b.u.mpers, and a tan top. As Englund looked toward the gate that afternoon, he could see the w.i.l.l.ys-Knight approach the driveway with Nathan at the wheel; behind him, a second boy was driving a dark green car.

Nathan stepped out from his car. The brakes had been squealing for several days; could Sven check them that afternoon? He did not need his car that day; he would prefer to have the problem fixed as soon as possible. Nathan and Richard Loeb drove away in the green car.

What make was the second car? Englund tried to remember-he was not sure. Perhaps, he replied, it was a Cadillac.

In recounting his story to the a.s.sistant state's attorney, Sven Englund provided convincing detail. On the day of the murder, he had removed the disk wheels from the red w.i.l.l.ys-Knight to oil both the brake bands and the brakes; Nathan's car had remained in his garage until ten o'clock that evening.31

ENGLUND'S ACCOUNT CAME AS A thunderclap-the chauffeur had smashed the boys' alibi. Crowe broke off his interrogation of Nathan; he realized immediately that both boys had been lying to him about their movements on the day of the murder. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb had told him that they had spent Wednesday, 21 May, driving around the city in Nathan's car; yet Sven Englund was now saying that Nathan's car had been in the garage all day. thunderclap-the chauffeur had smashed the boys' alibi. Crowe broke off his interrogation of Nathan; he realized immediately that both boys had been lying to him about their movements on the day of the murder. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb had told him that they had spent Wednesday, 21 May, driving around the city in Nathan's car; yet Sven Englund was now saying that Nathan's car had been in the garage all day.32 Crowe had no time to lose. The family had sent Englund on his mission to the Criminal Court Building; perhaps even now, Nathan's father was contacting a lawyer to file a writ of habeas corpus. If Crowe could squeeze a confession out of the boys before the lawyers arrived, he would have a hanging case, but if there was no confession, the killers might yet avoid the gallows.

Which boy was most likely to break first? Should Crowe switch to Richard Loeb or stay with Nathan Leopold? Nathan had denied everything-he had refused to budge an inch. Richard Loeb might be more vulnerable. Loeb did not even know why he was in the Criminal Court Building; throughout his detention, the detectives had held the boy in isolation.

Crowe opened the door. Richard Loeb was leaning forward in a chair with his head resting on his arms on the desk. As the state's attorney entered the room, the boy lifted his head up and slid backward in the chair.33 It was almost one o'clock in the morning, and Loeb was very tired. He had slept during the day but only for about four hours. He demanded to know why Crowe was holding him. He knew nothing, and he wanted to talk to a lawyer.34 Crowe heard the words but ignored the request. He had been expecting one of the boys to ask for a lawyer-he was surprised it had taken so long. He pretended not to hear; behind him, Joseph Savage, the a.s.sistant state's attorney, was entering the room; he was followed by Michael Hughes, the chief of detectives. The stenographer was the last to enter, and as the door closed behind him, Crowe turned to face Loeb.

"Now, Loeb, you told me that Wednesday...you drove down town with this young fellow Leopold, in his car, that is a sport model, it is a red car with a tan top, a w.i.l.l.ys-Knight?"

"Yes...."

"You had lunch at the grill room at Marshall Field's?...Then you went out to Lincoln Park?"

"Yes, sir."

"And that all the driving you did this day was in this car?"

"Yes, sir...."

Crowe had been sitting casually on the edge of the gray metal desk; now he got to his feet and stood in front of Loeb, looking down at the boy in the chair before him. He spoke louder now, in a voice calculated to intimidate the boy, and he moved closer, so close that his physical presence in itself seemed to threaten and menace.

"Isn't it a fact that Wednesday, May 21st,...you drove up to that garage, to Leopold's garage, you driving your mother's car, that green Cadillac, he driving the red car...and you turned the car over to the chauffeur and got into your car and drove away?"

"No," Richard replied.

"That is not a fact?"

"No," Richard answered again.

Crowe was shouting now. The anger in his voice filled the interrogation room. He wanted that confession so much-he needed Richard to confess-he had to force the boy to break, to admit his guilt to the murder.

"If this chauffeur says so, he is a liar?"

"Yes."35 Richard's hands were shaking, and the color had drained from his face. As he slumped down in his chair, the detectives heard him whisper to himself, "My G.o.d." He tried to speak, but his words died before they reached his lips. Crowe waited impatiently for the boy to drink a gla.s.s of water.

"If the chauffeur took the car in and oiled it up, oiled the brakes and fixed it up, that would make an impression on his mind, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"If he says that is a fact, he is a liar or mistaken?..."

"Yes.... I would say he was still a liar or mistaken."36

ROBERT C CROWE WAS EXHAUSTED. B BOTH boys denied everything; Crowe was discouraged: they were holding fast and he saw no way to break their resistance and force a confession. He stepped out of the office. Perhaps it was time to go home-he badly needed some sleep. boys denied everything; Crowe was discouraged: they were holding fast and he saw no way to break their resistance and force a confession. He stepped out of the office. Perhaps it was time to go home-he badly needed some sleep.

One of Crowe's a.s.sistants, John Sbarbaro, remained with Richard Loeb as Crowe talked in his office with Joseph Savage. Twenty minutes pa.s.sed, then half an hour. There was a sudden bustle in the corridor; Sbarbaro had left the room and was striding, almost running, toward Crowe's office. The a.s.sistant state's attorney was breathless as he opened the door. Richard Loeb wanted to talk to the state's attorney...there was no time to lose...quick, quick, before the boy changed his mind!37

7 THE CONFESSIONSSAt.u.r.dAY, 31 M 31 MAY 1924S 1924SUNDAY, 1 J 1 JUNE 1924 1924It was really too bad, for the cause of justice, that they were so loquacious.1Robert Crowe, 15 August 1924 AS R ROBERT C CROWE ENTERED THE interrogation room, Richard wiped a tear from his cheek. Crowe noticed the jerky, staccato movement of the boy's hand. It was, he thought, as if Richard were ashamed that he had been crying, as if he hoped to wipe away the evidence of his panic. interrogation room, Richard wiped a tear from his cheek. Crowe noticed the jerky, staccato movement of the boy's hand. It was, he thought, as if Richard were ashamed that he had been crying, as if he hoped to wipe away the evidence of his panic.

The state's attorney pulled up a chair, making a sc.r.a.ping noise as he dragged the legs of the chair across the concrete floor. As he sat down opposite Richard, the boy spoke through his tears, challenging the state's attorney. "You have no evidence on me.... Why are you holding me?"

"Because Leopold is the owner of those gla.s.ses-"

Richard looked up, startled; he had not expected this: "My G.o.d, is that possible?"

"-because you said you were with Leopold all day on the day of the murder." Crowe continued to list the evidence. "We have been directing our energy in fastening the crime on Leopold.... We now have, in addition to his gla.s.ses, the fact that you have both lied about being out in Lincoln Park having the red car with you.... We know that you had a portable typewriter...."

Richard Loeb had bent over in his chair. He stared at his feet and made a slight rocking movement, back and forth, back and forth, as Crowe continued to talk. Now Richard sat up straight; the tears were streaming down his cheeks; he cried out his terror at having been caught, "My G.o.d...my G.o.d...this is terrible...."

There was silence in the room. Crowe waited. The deputies at Crowe's side held their breath in antic.i.p.ation as they stared at Richard, waiting for him to admit his guilt.

"I will tell you all," Richard suddenly announced.

Crowe clenched his fist in triumph. He had the confession!2 But the stenographers had gone home for the night. Crowe himself had sent them away only half an hour before. He would now have to send out a police car to bring them back to the Criminal Court Building to take down Richard's confession. And he needed other witnesses to the confession, men outside his command, who would corroborate in court that Richard Loeb had given his confession freely, without duress. Crowe knew that Michael Hughes, the chief of detectives, would want to be present when Loeb made his formal confession; and William Shoemacher also-the deputy captain of police-would certainly not want to miss the occasion.

While his a.s.sistants, John Sbarbaro and Joseph Savage, made the arrangements, Crowe resumed his conversation with Richard Loeb. He wanted only the most important details, he told the boy; a full account could come later, once the stenographer had arrived. Richard obliged-he told the state's attorney how he had scouted the Harvard School, and how he had spotted Bobby Franks walking south on Ellis Avenue...they had driven out of Chicago on the Michigan City road and had stopped at a roadside cafe for hot dogs and root beer...oh, and the culvert by the Pennsylvania Railroad tracks-it had been difficult, Richard remembered, concealing the body in the drainage pipe....

Half an hour later Robert Crowe sat opposite Nathan Leopold in an office just a few doors down the corridor. Nathan was smoking-did Nathan ever, the state's attorney wondered, stop smoking?

Nathan had wanted to speak to Crowe, he said, to ask a hypothetical question. The state's attorney nodded. What did he want to know?

Suppose, Nathan asked, that someone from a wealthy family, a family as rich as his own, had committed this murder-what chance would that person have of beating the murder charges?

Crowe looked at the boy curiously-was Nathan trying to bribe him? Or was he implying in his question that he would try to bribe the jury if he came to trial?

Crowe's answer was abrupt. He was going to give Nathan a chance to find out-he intended to draw up a charge of murder against Nathan for the killing of Bobby Franks.

Nathan smiled. He drew on his cigarette. He knew Crowe was bluffing. This was just a trick to intimidate him. "While you have some few circ.u.mstances that point to me," he told the state's attorney, "you haven't sufficient evidence to bring me into court...and you won't."

Crowe leaned forward in his chair-did Nathan remember, he asked, the afternoon of the murder, waiting by the car while Richard went around to the back of the Harvard School to find a boy in the school playground? And those hot dogs and that root beer that Nathan had purchased at the Dew Drop Inn after they had killed Bobby? Did he recall those? And what about the trouble he had in concealing the body inside the drainage pipe?

Richard had told him all this detail and had confessed to the kidnapping of Bobby Franks. Did Nathan still think that he could beat the murder charge?