A Series of Unfortunate Events

It was an accident but Arlene Francis still killed somebody.

 

On Sunday, May 26, 1963, Arlene Francis was driving herself back to Manhattan in her agent Martin Goodman's car after a few hours on Long Island. She'd come east earlier that day to discuss her appearance in a future production at the Mineola Playhouse but now she needed to get back to NYC in time for her weekly Sunday evening appearance on "What's My Line?"



(The Mineola Theatre is no longer in operation but I've indicated its location with a red dot on the Google map below and here's a photo.)

Mineola Playhouse, circa 1964

Arlene was traveling west on the Northern State Parkway and had been stuck in the right lane behind someone whose right blinker had been on for a very long time so she decided to pass him. Arlene accelerated and made her move to the left. Unfortunately, Arlene didn't realize that just ahead of her there had been a minor traffic accident, causing the car driven by Louis H. Van Dam, to skid into the divider. Arlene hit the brakes.



Google Map showing the location of the Mineola Playhouse and the approximate site of the accident.

The roads were slick and the car Arlene was driving skidded then jumped over the 18 inch dividing wall, into east bound traffic. She collided head-on into a car carrying 5 people. The passenger, Mrs. Rose Arcos, aged 34, was killed. The driver, her husband, Joseph Arcos, also 34 years-old, was in serious condition, having suffered injuries to his head, face, legs and arms. Their 9-year-old daughter Celeste received minor facial injuries. Two rear seat passengers, Anthony Catapano, aged 58, and his wife Lena, aged 52, suffered facial injuries and were transported to the hospital.

This 2016 Google Maps image will give you an idea of the road but not the weather conditions.

I'm not exactly sure where Arlene's car jumped the divider. She testified that she was near the New Hyde Park exit when she changed lanes but she didn't specify if it was before or after the exit ramp. This is the view as one travels west on the NSP and approaches the exit. This stretch of road is before the overpass that I believe the cars were moved to after the collision, although on the opposite side of the Parkway. Further on down the road, there is substantial vegetation atop the dividing wall that would impede a car's progress over the barrier. If she crossed over here, before the exit, the leap over the barrier is easier.

Arlene's own injuries were substantial but not life-threatening. She had broken ribs, a broken collarbone, assorted bruises, a head laceration and a concussion; she was hospitalized for 10 days. Kitty Carlisle stepped in to take Arlene's place on the "What's My Line?" panel that evening. Arlene wouldn't be back to work on "What's My Line?" until June 16, 1963 and when she did return she had her arm in a sling.

On July 23, 1963, a lawsuit for $1 million ($500,000 each), alleging negligence, was filed against Arlene and her agent on behalf of the Arcos family even though no criminal charges were brought. It was ruled a tragic accident. Arlene's lawyer argued that the first accident involving Mr. Van Dam caused Arlene to brake so suddenly.

On July 29, 1963 there was a hearing regarding the accident at the DMV. Testimony from both Arlene and Joseph Arcos, who had automatically had their licenses suspended, was vague as they were both suffering from partial amnesia regarding the events. 

On June 4, 1965, the Queens Supreme Court awarded the Arcos family $210,000. The breakdown was $162,500 for the death of Rose Arcos, $40,000 for Joseph's injuries and $7,500 for Celeste's injuries.

Mr. and Mrs. Catapano had filed a separate claim and but their suit was dismissed.

This was not the first time Arlene Francis had been sued in a wrongful death suit.
 

On June 23, 1960, shortly after 2 PM, Detroit native Alvin Rodecker was struck on the head and killed by an eight pound dumbbell that fell from Arlene and husband Martin Gabel's 8th floor apartment in the Ritz Towers Hotel on 57th Street in Manhattan. 

Alvin and his wife Katherine were visiting NYC for a few days to celebrate his 60th birthday. They had just emerged from the neighboring Le Pavillon Restaurant when the accident occurred.

The last thing Alvin said to his wife was about the meal. "Holy cow, that was expensive. But it was worth it. We're really celebrating."

Neither Arlene or Martin were even in Manhattan when the accident happened. They'd left the city three weeks prior and were staying in Mt. Kisco, NY while their apartment's air conditioning unit was being repaired. Arlene would be performing in summer stock in nearby Westport, CT.

The air conditioner had been taken out of the window and replaced by an ill-fitting screen that was propped in place by a pair of dumbbells belonging to the Gabel's son Peter. 

In the apartment that afternoon was the Gabel's private secretary Muriel Fleit and Effie Turner, a maid employed by the hotel. 

Muriel Fleit, Billy Rose Theatre Collection image

Effie wanted to clean the screen, so Muriel picked up one of the dumbbells making the removal of the screen possible. As the maid was taking the screen out of the window, the second hand weight rolled towards the opening. Effie grabbed for it but she wasn't quick enough. 

The 8 pound dumbbell fell and hit Alvin directly on the head, his skull was fractured and he died the next day.

Hearing of the tragedy, the Gabels rushed right back to Manhattan.

There were no criminal charges brought against the Gabels but a lawsuit on behalf of the grieving widow was filed. Mrs. Rodecker's attorney was asking for $500,000 but she was awarded $185,000. The Gabels' insurance covered $175,000 and the hotel paid $10,000.

I've uploaded a video clip from the January 13, 1957 episode of What's My Line? to the As Close To Crime YouTube channel. Why? Because the among Mystery Guests that Sunday evening were the personal secretaries of Arlene Franics, Dorothy Kilgallen and Bennett Cerf. Those women were  Muriel Fleit, Myrtle Verne and Mary Barber. This would have been 3 1/2 years before the terrible accident that took the life of Alvin Rodecker. You can find that clip at - https://youtu.be/OtP-Hz5_q0g

The Murder of Margaret Zorn - Cold Case, 1976

Margaret Zorn, photo from Bethpage Tribune

Here's an unsolved crime from my childhood that has always stuck with me.

The robbery and murder of Margaret Zorn on November 22, 1976.

I didn't know the victim. My family only occasionally bought meals from the establishment owned by the Zorn family - we weren't regular customers but we liked the product, and yet the crime has always stayed with me.

Photo courtesy of Bethpage Chamber of Commerce

I don't think I fully appreciated how close my later place of employment (for 30 years) was to where her car, with her dead body in the front seat, was parked until I found a series of archived newspaper articles earlier this year. I wasn't working anywhere at the time of the crime. I was, maybe, in my first year of Junior High School.

The week of Thanksgiving is always a busy one at Zorn's and the daily deposit reflected this. On Monday, November 22, 1976, Margaret, 66-years-old, was driving to the Farmingdale, New York branch of Banker's Trust, 170 Conklin Street, with $6,000 in cash and $10,000 in checks. She left the store at 1:30 PM.

Traffic on Hempstead Turnpike/Conklin Street can be very slow and congested but when Margaret hadn't returned within 2 hours, the store employees called the bank to see if she'd made it there. She had not - they phoned the police.

This wasn't the only phone call to police that afternoon regarding Margaret Zorn. A 17-year-old boy had discovered Margaret slumped over in her car and he alerted a neighbor who then phoned police. This was at 3:40 PM. She was dead.



Photo from the Farmingdale Observer

Margaret's car was parked on the south side of Prospect Street, near the corner of Bernard Street. She had been shot once. Gone were the cash and checks but Margaret's jewelry hadn't been stolen.

Police interviewed more than 350 people and Margaret's family offered a reward of $5,000 for information leading to an arrest but to no avail. The rumor I'd always heard was, the ever-vague, "it was an inside job" but that gossip never led to an arrest.

A Womb is Not an Oyster

Marie Swift's cause of death is not what makes this story a standout but instead the circumstances and events surrounding the crime.


On March 25, 1941 a man bicycling down the road on his way to work spotted what he thought was a bundle of clothes. Sadly, it was the body of 25-year-old Marie Swift.

Police couldn't immediately tell what killed the young woman but they could see her body had been dragged from a vehicle and dumped. Much was made of the fact that a single strand of blonde hair had been caught in the handle of Marie's purse. However, it was not so much the forensics but good solid police work that cracked this case wide open in record time. Also, I see no real mention of this clue at the trial so either it proved to be nothing or wasn't important once the police had a confession.

Police interviewed family members, Marie's fiancé Herman Ward, neighbors, cabbies and anyone who could help them track her movements the night before.


When the truth was revealed it was this -

Marie was pregnant and had gone to the home of Mrs. Addie Wilson for an abortion. Marie was dead within 30 minutes of walking through the door.

Afterwards, Mrs. Wilson, aged 48, didn't know what to do with the body. She couldn't call the police, abortion was illegal, and she couldn't shift the weight herself. Addie drove around until she located her 16-year-old son Clarence and implored him to help her. The two of them placed Marie's body and purse in Addie's car. They dumped everything just outside of the city limits then drove home to destroy any remaining evidence. But I bet they kept the $10 fee.

Addie Wilson was arrested on a murder charge, her son Clarence was held as a material witness and for good measure police arrested Marie's fiance 36-year-old Herman Ward because they felt they could prove he had made the appointment for the illegal procedure. Addie and her son both confessed but Herman continued to proclaim his innocence throughout the ordeal. However, eyewitness testimony at Herman's trial convinced a jury otherwise.


In April of 1941, Addie was found guilty of manslaughter & Herman was found guilty of conspiracy in connection with Marie's death. Both were sentenced to 5 years in prison. Herman was paroled in the Spring of 1942 and Addie gained her freedom in February 1943.


Here's what I don't understand about the case - Herman testified at his trial that he'd learned of Marie's pregnancy in February of 1941. They'd been dating for 5 years - so the baby was probably his. Their wedding was to take place a mere 6 days after the procedure. Why not pass your baby off as premature? And the biggest question of all - why would Addie Wilson think herself qualified to perform such a procedure when her profession was not midwife, doctor or nurse but oyster shucker? WTF?

Panther Burglar turns deadly

Margaret Sablesack had immigrated to the US in 1901 from Yugoslavia when she was a child. As a young woman she worked as a milliner at a NYC hat factory until landing a job as a lab worker in St. Luke's Hospital.

By 1957, Margaret was 63-years-old, never married, crippled by arthritis, living on welfare in her 5-room, second-floor apartment at 1249 Amsterdam Avenue near 121st Street and maybe thinking her situation couldn't get any worse. Of course, she was wrong. Margaret had so little and yet on September 16th of that year, a man had broken into her apartment and was rifling through her things as she dozed in a chair. Margaret screamed when she saw him and the burglar grabbed her by the throat. Margaret fell to the ground and, still trying to silence her, the burglar knelt on her. He broke several of her ribs; she was 5' and maybe 100 pounds. His assault was a success - she was quiet....she was dead...her chest crushed. 

Margaret's body was discovered the next morning when a neighbor in her building saw the front door to her apartment wasn't closed all the way. He stepped in to investigate, found Margaret dead and her normally neat abode was far from tidy.

The police on the scene noticed that although there was a murder victim, the M.O. for the burglary was similar to dozens they'd been investigating for months. A thief so agile they'd dubbed him the "Panther Burglar." Margaret's brother William inspected the apartment and noticed nothing more than a portable radio was missing. That's what her life was worth.

Three latent prints were lifted off the wall nearest Margaret's body. Detectives compared these prints with over 500,000 currently on record but couldn't find a match. Again, 1957 so way before some computer program could zip through these to find corresponding ridges and whorls.

Detective Romoldo Imundi instructed all officers apprehending burglars in that vicinity to book every individual, fingerprint them and put those prints to the side for him to look at in the morning.

On February 24, 1958, at 12:45 AM, a young man, clutching a bulging paper bag, was spotted prowling around a back alley on Riverside Drive near 111th Street. When Patrolmen Owen Furtado and Rudolph Mingoia approached, he took off running. If this was the Panther Burglar, the nickname was appropriate. He was super fast and elusive. The officers would fire 6 shots at the man, none of them hit.

The thief eventually scampered up the fire escape of an apartment building at 628 W 114th Street and disappeared through a fifth story window. Furtado and Mingoia followed him and began searching the building. They could hear a shower running in a common hall bathroom. When they entered they found a man, naked, under the spray who claimed to live in the building. Furtado thought it sounded plausible but where was his towel and soap? And the clothes and paper bag balled up and stuffed underneath the claw-foot bathtub matched the man they were chasing. Inside the bag was a portable radio. He was arrested on suspicion of burglary.

Roland Wiggins was 18-years-old, 5' 9", husky but light on his feet. He lived in a single room apartment at 50 W. 112th Street, was an aspiring amateur boxer and had no previous criminal record....until now and his prints matched those found at Margaret Sablesack's apartment.

Roland admitted to the burglaries, over 60 in total. He would walk along the rooftops in the early morning hours then drop down to the ledges of the apartments on the upper floors. "It was as easy as walking up stairs" and enter through the bedroom windows.

Roland was escorted from Felony Court to the Homicide Division to be questioned about the events of September 16, 1957. After 2 days of questioning, Roland admitted that he had unintentionally killed Margaret while trying to muffle her screams.

On June 6, 1958, Roland pled guilty to second degree murder and was sentenced to 20 years to life; he was paroled on September 8, 1971 after serving 13 years.

photo courtesy of JET Magazine, March 20, 1958. I believe that's Det. Romolo Imundi on the left.

There is a very brief article in JET Magazine's March 20, 1958 edition which attributed this quote to Roland Wiggins but I can't find it anywhere else, "There's no thrill like the thrill of killing. I like to beat and break ribs."

When discussing his success at closing the case, Detective Imundi said "There are no super sleuths. Just guys pounding the pavement, asking a lot of questions. The trick is to presume nothing, to check everything." That definitely seems to have been the key to solving the murder of Margaret Sablesack and catching the "Panther Burglar."

"I killed her but I didn't have any reason to."

Donna Joyce Isbell

"I killed her but I didn't have any reason to."

Just the kind of thing you want to hear when the babysitter strangles your 6-year-old daughter.



On the evening of December 29, 1951 sixteen-year-old Delora Mae Campbell was looking after Donna Isbell and her older brother Roy, aged 8, while Mrs. Isbell worked at a defense plant; Mr. Isbell was stationed at the Los Alamitos Naval Base. This wasn't the first time they'd left their 2 children with Delora Mae but the 5th or 6th. I'm sure the Isbells would never have hired Delora if they'd known that 18 months earlier she had been shipped to Los Angeles from Colorado after repeatedly running away from home and presenting a danger to her siblings. Delora is quoted as saying "I often felt like strangling my brothers and sisters."



Delora and her Aunt Lavada

Delora's parents & a judge thought they'd let her live several states away with her Aunt Lavada and her husband Gene since things weren't working out at home. Mrs. Campbell really thought she'd found the solution too. All the letters she'd gotten from Delora indicated she was happy & finally doing well in school.

Delora and her father

Here's an interesting contrast in reactions after Delora was in custody. Mrs. Campbell said "I would rather have heard she was dead...anything except this horrible thing." Meanwhile, Mr .Campbell told the press "We could hardly believe it. I guess it was one of those things that had to happen." Yes, but not to your children.

Delora's official story to the police was after putting the two kids to bed she watched a movie on TV about a wife who kills her husband and then is given a second chance to relive her life. Afterwards, Delora experienced a vision or dream in which she saw little Donna lying in bed with a green necktie around her neck. Delora then walked into the bedroom the children shared, unable to find a necktie she, picked up a discarded sock, wrapped it twice around Donna's neck, stuffed a portion of the bed sheet in the little girl's mouth so her screams wouldn't be heard and pulled. The girl barely struggled or made a sound. Roy slept undisturbed several feet away as the murder occurred.

Once she realized what she'd done, Delora panicked and ran out in to the rain knocking on doors until finally someone answered. That individual was Dr.Sidney Willner; he accompanied Delora back to the Isbell house then alerted the police. Delora never waivered from her explanation that it had all happened in a dream state. In 1952 she was committed to Caramillo State Hospital for the Insane.

Delora Mae Campbell, enroute to Camarillo State Hospital

Delora, feeling herself sane, walked away from the hospital twice during her stay there but was recaptured each time, once in 1952 & again in 1954. Eventually, but I'm not sure when, Delora Mae was released from custody. She returned to Colorado, married twice, the first union producing 5 children and died in 1984.



If you're like me, you're horrified but wondering "What movie was she watching?" I researched the TV listings for that night and have determined it's "Repeat Performance."

Roy Isbell holding the doll that will be placed in his sister's coffin

An Intriguing Reveal

I'm not going to use this blog entry to tell the story of Ed and Celia Cooney but instead I want to suggest you read the book "The Bobbed Haired Bandit" by Stephen Duncombe and Andrew Mattson.

Their research methods are very similar to mine in that they rely heavily on newspaper archives. I doubt I'd uncover something they didn't. Plus, they each have the benefit of a formal education and do a very good job of telling not just the Cooneys' story but placing it in the context of everything else that was happening both politically and socially in NYC at the time.

Maybe you'll be sold on this book for the same reason I was?

Imagine your 85-year-old mother, who is suffering from Alzheimer's, routinely wandering away from her Florida home and starting to walk back toward NYC until the police locate her and bring her back. Now, imagine your mother tells you that she's worried "They'll find out who I am." And who is that? Why, "The Bobbed Haired Bandit," of course. Who? Everyone assumed it was the Alzheimer's talking.

Ed and Celia Cooney

Celia Cooney was very big news in 1924 and was still worthy of the public's attention in 1936. However, her exploits were all but forgotten by 1989 when Celia made this confession to her youngest son Ed, Jr. It was only after Celia's death that he and his older brother Patrick learned the truth about their parents' crime spree.

Too Proud or Too Crazy?

It wasn't uncommon for Gladys Quackenbush to have her name printed in the local newspapers. It was the fashion back in the day to announce whenever a young woman was off visiting relatives or attending some social function. But nobody was prepared for the story that would be appear in almost every newspaper on May 26, 1925. Sadly, it would soon became evident that the good folks at the New Jersey State Hospital for the Insane should have seen it coming.


In the early morning hours of May 26, 1925, Gladys, aged 28, had been killed in her sleep. Hacked to death with 14 blows of an axe. The killer was Aretta Quackenbush, her 65-year-old mother.


Aretta had been deemed "suicidal" and institutionalized since February 26, 1925 after she'd tried to take her own life; she'd been released from the NJ State Hospital for the Insane only a week before.



New Jersey State Hospital for the Insane

Neighbors had heard some arguing and raised voices coming from the  Quackenbush home in Tennent, NJ on the night of May 25, 1926. Aretta and Gladys often argued, mostly about money. Aretta's husband Holmes had died in 1904 and left them an inheritance but, it is believed Aretta lost most of the money due to "rash speculation" and the stress over their dwindling financial condition had affected her mind. By this time they were "practically penniless." Neither woman had a job and Aretta's pride got in the way whenever Gladys offered to seek employment. Gladys had made arrangements to leave the family home and relocate to Freehold, NJ to serve as a kind of live-in housekeeper. This might have been the last straw.

A neighbor, John Turneau, heard subdued crying as he walked by the Quackenbush home at 6:35 AM while on his way to work. He was worried, not enough to knock on the door although he did mention it to his supervisor. Another neighbor, Miss Laura Bennett, was walking past the Quackenbush home one hour later when Aretta opened the front door and called out "Laura, call Dr. Applegate. I've killed Gladys."

Laura didn't phone the police, remember this is 1925, but instead stopped in at another neighbor's house - one belonging to the Whalen family. Arthur Whalen, aged 20, offered to go over and investigate. He knocked at the door several times but received no reply until he finally heard a voice asking "Is that you Laura? You can't come in." Arthur walked around the house until he could peek through a window. Arthur saw Aretta in blood-stained clothes, she was mumbling "Oh, my God" over and over again. Arthur returned home then telephoned the State Police.

NJ State Trooper James McCormick

Trooper James McCormick responded to the call in civilian clothes. He saw Aretta walking back towards her own home from the Whalen house. She'd gone over there for a pail of water but had been refused entry. Can't say I blame them. Aretta was uncooperative at first, until she saw his Police badge then she allowed Trooper McCormick to enter her home and it was there he discovered the body of Gladys and blood splatter everywhere. Gladys is described as being "unrecognizable" due to the severe blows to her head. Any one of which would have been sufficient to kill her.


Aretta had injuries of her own. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut and there was blood on her forehead. Aretta claimed Gladys had attacked her the night before with a hammer so her killing Gladys was either "self-defense" or "revenge." Authorities believe that Aretta's wounds were self-inflicted. She readily admitted what she had done and told investigators, "It was all over in five minutes." During the car ride to the Police HQ, Aretta  tried to jump from the moving car but was held back.

Given Aretta's recent hospital stay and her actions on the morning of the killing, she was quite easily declared insane and incapable of even assisting in her own defense. She was remanded, once again, to the New Jersey State Hospital for the Insane. I don't believe she was ever released. Aretta is listed as an inmate of the Hospital in the 1940 Census and she died on December 18, 1943. Both Gladys and Aretta are buried in the Old Tennant Churchyard in Manalapan, NJ. The family farm, home and personal property were sold after Aretta was committed and the proceeds were used to pay for her care at the Hospital.

There was much finger-pointing after the fact and, of course, promises from the Hospital to do a better job so that this kind of tragedy could be avoided in future. Dr. Carl Pierson testified that he knew Aretta had attempted to take her own life three months prior but that was all. Judge Lawrence who headed the three person lunacy committee charged with investigating the incident, produced documentation from when Aretta was admitted in February which recorded the fact that she had also threatened the life of her daughter. The eminent Dr. Henry Cotton felt comfortable blaming Aretta's relations, and that included the victim, who had agreed to Aretta's release. I'd also like to note that Dr. Cotton is the only one who refers, numerous times, to Gladys as being "feeble-minded." If Gladys was feeble-minded, why would the hospital consider her capable of caring for Aretta? 

Dr. Henry Cotton

Dr. Cotton would have to get used to being on the defensive. Not only in this matter but for his methods in general. Dr. Cotton strongly believed there was a definite connection between insanity and infection in the body. He and his staff of surgeons would routinely perform operations on the patients, often times it seems without their consent. It was common practice to remove any organs they suspected to be harboring infection, also the patients' teeth. The staff also performed sterilization procedures on the patients. Any surgery was a risk, especially when there were no antibiotics then and a real danger of post-operative infection. There might have been a high mortality rate as a result of these procedures but the patients would be considered sane when they expired.  Naturally, not everyone considered Dr. Cotton a monster. He did actually believe in treating the patients more humanely. 

Explosion at the Point Pleasant, WV Jail

Harriet Sisk

On Feb 27, 1976, Harriet told police that her infant daughter Davi Calline Sisk, was missing, perhaps kidnapped.

Five hours later the girl was discovered - dead and buried in a four foot deep grave not far from the family's home. Davi was wrapped in a blanket and there was a stuffed toy beside the body.

Harriet later confessed that she'd tripped when her sock got caught on a piece of furniture and she'd fallen on Davi. The two-month-old child started crying and wouldn't stop.

The incessant wailing caused Harriet to snap; the autopsy would reveal that Davi had been strangled and beaten. It was a tragedy.

Harriet's last statement to police, on Feb 29th, revealed that her husband Bruce, aged 19, helped her bury their daughter's body.

Bruce Sisk

On March 2, 1976, at 11 PM, Bruce Sisk walked into the Point Pleasant, WV jail where his wife was being held. He carried a suitcase and a shotgun. Bruce announced that he wanted to spend the evening with his wife and pointed the shotgun at the jailer on duty, Charles Anson, who was unarmed. Anson, a former postal worker who took this job 14 months earlier to relieve the boredom of retirement, recognized Bruce immediately. He'd been at the jail to see his wife only 5 hours earlier and had briefly visited with Harriet, despite it being after hours. Anson, now with the shotgun at his back, took Bruce to the cell where Harriet was being held, he opened the cell door and allowed Bruce to enter but quickly closed and locked the door. Trapped inside was Harriet, another female prisoner and now Bruce with his suitcase and shotgun. Anson ran back upstairs to call Sheriff Wedge. 

At Bruce Sisk's urging, all the other prisoners were removed from the building.

Pete Wedge, with a big assist from Harriet, convinced Bruce to release Harriet's cellmate, Alice Sue Missen.

Moments later an explosion rocked the building and surrounding streets. Bruce didn't have a change of clothes in his suitcase but 30-35 sticks of dynamite. It was initially believed that Bruce fired his shotgun at the suitcase but when investigators sifted through the debris they discovered that a flashlight battery and an electric blasting cap had been used.

Harriet's cellmate would late reveal that Harriet seemed aware of her husband's plans and that they might have agreed up on this suicide pact.

While Alice couldn't hear the conversation that had transpired between the couple 5 hours earlier, Harriet indicated something was planned but assured her she "wouldn't be hurt."

Ultimately five people, including the Sisks, died as a result of the explosion; 11 others were injured, including Alice. The Sisks and Deputy Kenneth Love (who had been the one to find Davi's body) died instantly. Sheriff Wedge died the following day and Jailer Ernie Hesson would linger for a week before succumbing.

The Sisks also had a 19-month-old son named Bruce Michael who became a ward of the state. A suicide note was later found at the Sisk home that outlined events as they'd happened on February 27th. This note was shown to the members of their families but not released to the press.

Memorial outside the Point Pleasant Jail

The Doctor Will See You Now - For the Last Time



Graphic courtesy of The American Journal

A few years ago I was researching the family tree and came across a story of jealousy, murder and illegal surveillance. Naturally, I was disappointed to learn that the accused was not the same Florence Carman who was my GGrandmother but soon it didn't matter. The crime was sensational and I was quickly as caught up in it as the rest of the nation had been in 1914.

Lulu Bailey



Lulu Bailey was paying a professional, although after hours, visit to the prominent Dr. Edwin Carman at his office/home in Freeport, NY on June 30, 1914. Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass, a hand appeared in the window and a single shot rang out. Within minutes Mrs. Bailey was dead. The gun was never found.



Florence Carman

Who was the killer? What was the motive? Who was the intended target? Why didn't Mr. Bailey know his wife had made this appointment? Did he know his wife was pregnant? So many questions including why did Mrs. Carman enter the crime scene after the police had departed to remove a hidden listening device that she'd recently had installed in her husband's office without his knowledge? Well, the latter is easy enough to answer.

Florence's jealousy was well-established. On May 20, 1914, Florence had been spying on her husband through the same ground-floor window when she'd seen Dr. Carman give his nurse, Mrs. Varance, $15, then the two kissed. Mrs. Carman burst in, slapped the woman across the face, told them both "This is a nice way for a married man and a married woman to act." She followed this up with "So that's where all your money goes?" Florence demanded the cash be handed over then kicked Mrs. Valance out of the office, telling her never to return. This didn't sit well with her husband and they argued. 



Dictaphone machine, circa 1914



Florence Carman long suspected her husband might be cheating on her and she wanted to listen in on the appointments he had with various female patients, so on June 23, 1914, she purchased a Dictaphone and hid it in Edwin's office.

Could there have been a recording of conversation between husband and wife after the shooting which would incriminate Mrs. Carman? Is that why she snuck the device out of the office when the police weren't looking?

Differing testimonials about Florence's movements on the night Lulu Bailey was shot and killed resulted in her arrest.

The Carman's maid, Celia Coleman, initially backed up Mrs. Carman's alibi but then she started to change her story; and as a witness during the October 1914 trial, Celia had firmly implicated Mrs. Carman in the shooting.

Much of the prosecution's case rested on the validity of Celia's testimony.

Celia testified that on the morning after Lulu Bailey was    killed, Mrs. Carman said to her "Oh Celia, why did I shoot that woman? I hope God will forgive me." 



Celia Coleman

 When asked why she'd lied initially lied to the police about Mrs. Carman, Celia responded that she'd "felt sorry for her." She also admitted to accepting a $5 bill from Mrs. Carman after the shooting and was told at the time, "This is for keeping your mouth shut."

Celia went on to say that, after she'd started to tell the truth, a representative of the Carmans had offered to buy her silence with a $300 bribe.

The prosecution failed to get a conviction....twice.

The first jury was deadlocked and the second trial in May 1915 saw Mrs. Carman acquitted.

The investigation ended there but not the story. Some possible insight into the reason for Mrs. Bailey's secret visit with the doctor came in 1929 when Dr. Carman was himself arrested. He'd been performing illegal abortions. He was on trial for manslaughter in connection to a 1928 procedure and another botched & illegal surgery the following year in which the woman lived. He was sentenced to 4 years in Sing Sing & obviously lost his license to practice medicine but the judge took pity on the 61-year-old physician and granted him probation.

Dr. Edwin Carman

The Handsaw Slayer

Here's a mugshot that commands your attention and the story behind it doesn't disappoint. This is Laura Belle Devlin of Newark, Ohio. In December of 1946 she killed her husband Thomas. Two weeks later, thanks in part to the keen eye and inquisitive nature of their mailman, Mr. C.G. Butcher, she was arrested for the crime. In fact, the mailman drove her to the police station himself.

Once there the 72-year-old Mrs. Devlin admitted to killing her husband with her bare hands after he threw a plate at her, then she dismembered his body using a sickle and handsaw. She was still in the process of burning his remains in the home's 2 stoves when arrested. Mrs. Devlin was easily indicted and believed to be suffering from senile psychosis.

Mrs. Devlin was transferred to the Lima State Hospital for a 30 day period of observation. One week later, on March 29th 1947, she was dead from pneumonia.

How did the mailman know Laura Devlin was lying about her husband's whereabouts? A letter Mrs. Devlin produced, as evidence that her husband died while visiting relatives in PA, had no stamp and the postmark was drawn by hand.

"I'm glad I had my revenge."

Martin Sullivan was NOT aging gracefully. He admitted to being 65 but was actually 72. His attempts to appear younger than he really was seemed laughable.

Martin was known to dye his hair, wear eyeliner, rouge and even a little lipstick. And then there was that toupee! A patch of fake hair held in place with a thin string tied under his chin. He wasn't fooling anyone, except for maybe himself. But while vain, he was probably harmless. Or was he? Well, Martin was certainly spry - as you'll see. Follow along with the map below.

Martin Sullivan was a widowed Duquesne, PA police officer who mostly worked as a traffic cop now that he was getting on in years. Whether or not Martin was guilty of raping 12-year-old Antoinette Vukelja we'll never know for sure. Within a few hours of his being arrested for that offense, Martin managed to elude the Constable entrusted to escort him to prison, then shoot 6 people - killing 5 of them. Every one of them had accused him that day and he wanted revenge.

In a span of 45 minutes, Martin managed to slip away from custody, return home to pick up his service revolver, grab additional ammunition then shoot 6 people in three different locations. He even found time to stop for a quick drink at a Polatas Resturant & Bar before committing his last murder. I've marked and numbered each stop on the map. The location of the Vukelja house is an approximation only because there is now a public park where McCrae Street* once was.


*I'd like to note that newspapers at the time, should you be researching this yourself at some point, spell McCrae as McCrea but Census records and maps from the day spell it McCrae.

Here's how it all kicked off - At 7 PM on December 17, 1936, Constable Gallagher arrived at Martin Sullivan's home and escorted him to Alderman C. Dewain King's office, which was really just the back room of King's jewelry store on 17 W. Grant Ave. That's where Martin was to hear for the first time the charges leveled against him. Martin vigorously denied sexually assaulting the girl but was told he would have to wait until the District Attorney was available before bail could be set. In the meanwhile, he was to be placed in a prison cell.

Present at that hearing was Mrs. Laura Bacon, a social worker, the parents and one brother of the young girl and Antoinette herself, who spoke so softly that Martin couldn't even hear exactly what it was he was alleged to have done. Not present was Mrs. Benda who Martin was sure had set things in motion and he was right. It WAS Mrs. Helen Benda who first told Antoinette's mother that there might be something unsavory going on.

The Bendas were well-known to Martin. Their daughter Helen had been Martin's housekeeper for 2 years, starting when she was 15-years-old. It is through Helen that Martin became acquainted with Antoinette Vukelja. The younger girl was friends with Helen and would visit the Sullivan home when Helen was there. It was rumored around town that Martin had fallen in love with Helen and at one point approached Mr. Benda's to ask her hand in marriage but he was turned down because of the significant age difference plus the fact the Helen had no interest in marrying Martin. It was believed that Martin had held a grudge against the parents since then.

Four months before the shooting, Helen had wed Lawrence Stiver, a man much closer to her age but one who would land her in trouble with the law. They'd both been arrested for larceny (the theft of two gold watches) and were incarcerated at the time of the murder spree.

Not one to hold a grudge...against Helen anyway.... Martin had kept in contact with the young woman after her marriage to Lawrence and had recently sent her a check for $6 when she'd written to complain her husband was out of work and that she had no shoes. This doesn't appear to be from his own bank account but money belonging to Helen that was coming from a Christmas savings account. Of course, Martin couldn't help but rub her face in it a little when he told Helen in a letter "I gave you six months until you would be sorry for leaving me in the way that you did. I am sorry but my guess had come true."

After Alderman King's ruling, Constable Gallagher was told to escort Martin to the police station at 12 South Second Street. Gallagher had known Martin for 30 years and so no reason to handcuff him. It was now 8:50 PM.

Upon exiting the jewelry store, Martin asked Constable Gallagher if it would be okay to stop off at his son's place first so that he could make him aware of the situation and hand over his house keys. Gallagher didn't see the harm in this. In fact, it made sense. Martin's son rented rooms above a drug store, located on the corner of Second and Priscilla.

Again, because of their longtime association, Gallagher didn't think it necessary to accompany Martin to the second floor. He instead positioned himself out on the sidewalk and waited for Martin to come back down the stairs. Gallagher had no way of knowing that Martin's son wasn't even home at the time.

Nor did Gallagher realize that Martin had no intention of coming back down those front steps; he had slipped out a back door, ran eight blocks up a hillside then sprinted the last 1/2 mile to his house. Martin was home just long enough to grab his .38 caliber Colt revolver and extra ammunition. He will reload twice that evening.

Martin then walked the two blocks from his house down to the Benda household at 10 Erwin St. Martin accused Joseph & Helen Benda of setting him up, they denied it so Martin shot them both; the two Benda sons who were present scattered. Mr. Benda died instantly; Mrs. Benda would linger for 2 hours and was found draped over the body of her dead husband. Martin left the house and reloaded.

Martin walked down to Parallel Way, turned right, walked three blocks over to another street and 50 yards to the Vukelja house at 14 McCrae Street. Martin demanded to speak with Mary Vukelja, Antoinette's mother, but she didn't want to hear what Martin had to say, so he came at her with his pistol drawn. Mary's son Milan, aged 23, got between them and grappled with Martin for control of the gun. Milan was shot. Martin took a moment to replace his toupee then shot Joseph Vukelja, Antoinette's father, in the hip. Joseph would live to testify against Martin.

Antoinette, also a witness to the carnage in her own home, had run down into the cellar with Martin, brandishing a fireplace poker, hot on her heels; she would escape through a window and later testify in court. Martin quickly changed direction and ran up the stairs to kill Mrs. Vukelja who had barricaded herself behind a bedroom door. Martin used the poker to pry the door open but he was too late. Mary Vukelja had already climbed out the 2nd floor window, onto a porch roof then dropped to the ground. Martin dashed down the stairs and out of the house. Mrs. Vukelja was on the front lawn screaming for help, "Police! Police!" Martin walked up to her, said "Here he is" and shot her twice - once in the abdomen and once in the head.

Martin walked away, tossed the spent shell casings in an alley between Auril and Catherine then reloaded.

Martin next walked down Aurilles St to Priscilla Ave and reunited with the clueless Constable Gallagher. Martin had been gone about 35 minutes. Gallagher had spent that time hanging out in front of the store talking to passersby, including his sister.

Martin suggested they go to have a quick drink together at the Mike Polatas Hotel at 408 S. Second Street. Whiskey for Martin and a beer for Gallagher. Martin paid.

Martin had been telling Constable Gallagher throughout that he was being framed and just wanted to have a quick word with Mrs. Bacon, the social worker assigned to the case and a woman of influence. They'd be passing by her house anyway as they went to the police station. Martin wasn't sure which house was hers so they stopped at a stranger's house first to ask. The address they were looking for was 229 South Second Street. Gallagher would testify that before he knew what was happening Martin was knocking on her front door. Mrs. Bacon's son-in-law Howard Weisen answered the door; Howard notified Mrs. Bacon that two men wished to have a word with her. Martin and Laura briefly discussed the plausibility of the charges he was facing. Martin didn't like what Mrs. Bacon had to say so he shot her. She would die shortly thereafter.

Martin refused to hand over his gun but he did surrender at once to a startled Constable Gallagher, who was still completely unaware that his good friend Martin had already shot 5 other people. Together they walked up 2nd Street to the Police Station.

Martin's rationale was that if they were determined to see him sent to prison, he'd make sure he had his revenge first. He always maintained that he'd never molested that young girl and it was a frame job. Then why not wait for a trial and prove your innocence? Maybe it was because Antoinette's brother got in Martin's face at the hearing and told him "I will get a mob and have you lynched before you get away from here."

I know it sounds like I'm leaning towards Martin being innocent of the rape charges but honestly, I'm not. I have no idea what, if anything, happened between Martin and Helen or Martin and Antoinette. Martin denied himself of the right to go to trial and prove he was innocent when he chose to kill 5 of the people who would have testified for the prosecution.

Martin was found guilty of 5 counts of first degree murder in May of 1937 and sentenced to die in the electric chair. When the verdict was read, Martin told his court appointed attorney "I don't give a damn. I'm an old man now. I don't care. It's just that this verdict is a disgrace to my family. I don't care except for that."

Martin appeared, not only unrepentant throughout the proceedings, but almost giddy at times. Some questioned his sanity. It was determined that he was sane and sober at the time he committed the crimes but he soon started to crack under the pressure of waiting for the execution to happen. Martin was suffering from night terrors and could be heard screaming in his jail cell. Some offered that it was the ghosts of his victims come back to haunt him.

Martin stated that he wasn't afraid to die but had hoped to escape the electric chair. He joked that it would be funny if the van transporting him to the death house crashed and killed him instantly.

Martin would finally take a seat in Old Sparky on Mach 21, 1938 after two reprieves. He continued to deny he'd ever molested Antoinette Vukelja saying "I wouldn't do a thing like that. I was defending my character. That's all a poor man has, his character."

Helen Stiver nee' Benda and her husband Lawrence would be arrested again in October 1941 on an attempted burglary charge for trying to enter the Dublin township, PA home of Alice C. Harper at 2 AM. Police found them afterwards, hitchhiking along the road; they claimed to be seeking employment amongst the farming community. The Stivers denied the charge. Lawrence was on parole at the time; he'd been arrested for burglarizing a home in March of 1938 while Helen was still serving time on the previous larceny charge.


And what of Constable Gallagher whose misplaced trust in Martin Sullivan made this murder spree possible? The Constable was arrested right alongside his friend and charged with, according to Judge M.A. Musmanno, "a dereliction of duty that is appalling to contemplate." Bail was set at $20,000. In December of 1936, Gallagher was charged with malfeasance in office and permitting a prisoner to escape. If convicted he was facing a maximum of 11 years in prison and a $1,000 fine. In January 1937, Gallagher waived a hearing and was found guilty of 2 counts of criminal negligence and obviously forced to resign. Gallagher served two years in prison before being paroled in February 1939, thanks in large part to a petition signed by 2000 Duquesne residents on his behalf that was submitted to the court asking for leniency.