Unlucky in Love

Bronwen Mason

For Bronwen Mason, being born on Valentine's Day didn't guarantee she would have an easy time of when it came to romance and eternal love. In fact, just the opposite was true.

Bronwen met Joseph Benedict Centifanti, later "Jay" to his friends, in the mid-1960's when they were both students at the University of Pittsburgh.

An outstanding student, Joe had earned two scholarships and was working multiple jobs to pay his way.

Bronwen recalled being attracted to Joe's vitality and spontaneity. 

People might now recognize Joe's frenzied, hyperactive, manic behavior as being indicative of a bi-polar disorder but back then he just seemed intense and anxious to succeed. 

A clue to Joe's personality can be found in this 1962 Pottsville (PA) High School yearbook passage appearing beside his photo:

"Is that a lively debate we hear? Joe must be near by. Possessing both great knowledge and a flair for words, Joe aroused many spirited classroom discussions. A fine tuba player, Joe represented P.H.S. in both District and Stage Bands. His keen wit and original jokes added zest to any gathering. Joe's more serious nature revealed an appreciation of good books and an ability to play an expert game of chess. We know good fortune will always brighten the path of this future teacher."

Jay, Harvard (1967)

At college, Joe would often stay awake for days at a time. He once painted his entire apartment while his girlfriend slept.

Joe recalled "She was pretty spooked. She left immediately. At the time, I couldn't figure out why she was so bothered."

While perhaps not as intense as Joe, Bronwen was also a excellent student and one who didn't shy away from making her opinions known. 

In response to a March 15, 1963 Life magazine editorial about the controversial topic of prayer in school and a recent decision by the Supreme Court to outlaw the reading of prayer in New York's public schools, 17-year-old Bronwen sent a letter to their editors. 

She wasn't alone.
Reader response was apparently substantial and, in their April 12, 1963 issue, Life printed Bronwen's thoughts on the same page as a response from (famed Atheist) Madalyn Murray.

Bronwen's live and let live attitude was not shared by Murray.

Madalyn Murray, speaking for all Atheists, wrote "We find the Bible to be nauseating, historically inaccurate, replete with the ravings of madmen. We find God to be sadistic, brutal, and a representation of hatred, vengeance. We find the Lord's Prayer to be that muttered by worms groveling for meager existence in a traumatic, paranoid world.

Madalyn Murray

"This is not appropriate untouchable dicta to be forced on adult or child. The business of the public schools, where attendance is compulsory, is to prepare children to face the problems on earth, not to prepare for heaven - which is a delusional dream of the unsophisticated minds of the ill-educated clergy."

In years to come, both Bronwen and Joe would stand up for what they felt was right. 

They traveled together to Selma, Alabama in March 1965 as Freedom Riders. 

In April 1967, Bronwen added her name to a "Stop the Bombing, Start Negotiating" petition protesting the Vietnam War. 

A much more personal fight for the couple would come in February 1975.

Shifting gears away from a career in teaching, Joe had decided study law and, as he had done throughout his academic life he excelled. Joe graduated with two simultaneous master's degrees from Harvard - for law and business administration.

Bronwen also pursued a law degree and graduated from Boston University College of Law with a J.D. degree.

The couple's career paths may have been on par but there was a decided difference in their backgrounds. It's not clear if these differences mattered to Bronwen but Jay had difficulty letting go of the disparity.

Bronwen was a 14th generation American with a stable home life while Joe, a first generation American, came from a broken home. 

Joe's father, John Centifanti, was an Italian immigrant with old school ideas about wives and marriage. 

His mother, Rosalie, was considerably younger than John and she had chosen to walk away after less than six years of marriage to a man more than twice her age.

One wonders why a 19-year-old gal from New Jersey would marry a 54-year-old Italian immigrant living in Cleveland but Rosalie's background may provide a clue. How they met is uncertain but some things we know.

Joe's mother, Rosalie Deming, had known hard times as a child and even ran away from home in January 1941, at the age of 15, because, as she explained in a letter to her mother, she was "tired of living in poverty."

In fairness, Rosalie's mother, Josephine, probably did the best she could but it must have been difficult to raise nine children on her own after her husband deserted her after 18 years of marriage. The year was 1925 and Josephine would have been one-year-old when her father left the family to fend for themselves.

Weeks after running away, Rosalie was declared "incorrigible" by her mother and turned over to the New Jersey State Board of Children's Guardians. That was March 1941. 

On September 28, 1943, Rosalie, an unmarried woman with an infant son in tow, was married to John Centifanti. 

This would be John's second marriage. His first union, to a fellow Italian immigrant named Maria LaMarca, had ended in divorce after 10 years (1925-1935).

John's paranoid, tyrannical and abusive behavior, coupled with the 34 year age difference between himself and his younger wife, ultimately drove Rosalie away. 

And when she left, with no money, no home and no prospects, Rosalie didn't take either 5-year-old Joseph or his younger sister Rose Marie. She did, however, take her first-born son, John.

This fact would drilled into the minds of the two Centifante children repeatedly over the next two years, until their father's death on March 29, 1952. 

By the time John died, Rosalie had established herself in Pottsville, PA. She was now with Ray Hammond and they were forging a new life together. Joe and Rose Marie were welcomed but the resentment Joe felt towards his mother still lingered. 

The Hammonds were working class and there wasn't an excess of cash. This was especially true as the family expanded. Ultimately, there were nine children to provide for.

Joe excelled academically and began taking college-level classes while still in high school. Although, a dark side began to show itself. Joe was known to have a short temper and a sharp tongue.

Following a comment to Joe from Rosalie that went along the lines of "With a mouth as big as yours you shouldn't play the piccolo you should play the tuba" Joe did just that and ultimately performed in the all-state the band. His passion for playing the tuba would stay with him.

I find this clipping kind of cool, even though it's a little vague as to what Joe's specific contribution was.

Pottsville Republican - Aug 5, 1965

Those who know me, will recognize this appeals to me because of my interest in anything relating to the two N.Y. World Fairs.

For those unfamiliar with the G.E. pavilion, here's a graphic -

Folks can still enjoy elements of this exhibit, such as The Carousel of Progress, at both Disneyland and Disney World.

But, I digress -

It was while attending Harvard that Joe began reinventing himself.

According to a Setpember 7, 1975 article in The Philadelphia Inquirer, it was while at Harvard that Joe announced he preferred to be called Jay and he altered the pronunciation of his last name by inserting a Ch sound at the beginning.

In that same article, an unnamed acquaintance from those days is quoted as saying, "Jay Chentifanti sounded less greasy than Joe Centifanti. It was classier."  

Jay could generally be seen looking every bit like a lawyer too - in a three piece suit.

The biggest change came on July 1, 1967 when Jay married Bronwen Mason. 

It has been claimed that Rosalie felt her son was marrying above his station and that she felt uncomfortable around the Masons. Jay himself has said that Bronwen's parents disapproved of the union, a bias based specifically on his ethnic background. 

I can find nothing from the Masons, directly or indirectly, as to what they truly thought of their daughter's new husband.

Jay began distancing himself from his mother and stepfather back in Pottsville, PA.

In late 1970, upon graduating from Harvard, Jay went to work for Morgan, Lewis and Bockius, a prestigious Philadelphia law firm. He showed great promise, worked hard, was devoted to the company and hoped to eventually be made a partner. 

Bronwen found employment as a lawyer at a bank. 

In 1971, their son Jason was born.

In August 1972, Jay and Bronwen purchased a townhouse, at 633 Pine Street, in the upscale Society Hill section of Philadelphia for a cost of $30,000. Perhaps not the nicest house on the block but a good first home for the young couple.

This was everything they had been working towards but, despite all outward appearances, the marriage was a troubled one. 

Jay was demanding, argumentative, tyrannical and his mistreatment of Bronwen was mirroring his own father's toxic relationship with Rosalie.

Jay accused Bronwen of having affairs, although there was no evidence to support this.

Jay recognized he was being abusive to the woman he loved but he couldn't stop himself.

Bronwen eventually responded in kind. They both drank and fought to excess. Bronwen herself described the relationship as "sick and sadomasochistic."

Yet, in 1973, their daughter Dana was born.

Bronwen needed a break from their unhappy home and in the summer of 1973, she packed up the kids and left Jay to fend for himself. According to a friend, Jay was livid.

Bronwen was in favor of some kind of marriage counseling or therapy but Jay absolutely refused and he was critical of anyone who sought such help for themselves so Bronwen made appointments for herself on the sly.

In late 1974, the couple spent $21,000 to purchase the vacant lot next to their home. Perhaps with an eye towards expansion?

However, disconcerting news came a few months later when it was announced that a location for a new Black History Museum had been chosen.

The corner of 6th and Pine, beside the historic Mother Bethel AME Church, would soon to be home to, according to the architectural plans, a 30,000 sq. foot, three to four story structure.

This project was being pushed forward at a rapid pace by Mayor Frank L. Rizzo and Philadelphia '76, the planning agency responsible for the upcoming Bicentennial ceremonies. They wanted construction on the  building to be completed before June 1, 1975.

However, The Society Hill Civic Association and the Centifantis objected vociferously causing the matter to be put before the Philadelphia Zoning Board. 

Finally, something Jay and Bronwen both agreed on and could work together to prevent. A cause, just like the early days of their relationship.

 

Society Hill dwellers felt their residential neighborhood was no place for a museum of that size.  

Philadelphia '76 predicted that the museum would attract 5,000 to 10,000 visitors daily.   

Where would the visitors park? And what about the increased traffic in their residential neighborhood?

annotated Google maps image

Despite these legitimate concerns, the protests were labeled racist in nature. The Society Hill Civic Association was composed largely of wealthy white people. 

Why hadn't anyone objected to recent approval for the construction of a Mummers Museum? 

Well, in fairness, the Mummers Museum would not be located in Society Hill but would be built on the corner of Washington Avenue and S. 2nd Street  - one mile southeast of the Mother Bethel AME Church. 

The Society Hill Civic Association would have no reason to object to that structure.

Realistically, this doesn't mean everyone involved in the protest was without a racist bone in their body but I'd like to think that, for the Centifantis at least, two people who had 10 years earlier traveled to Selma in aid of the civil rights movement, the objections were not racist but practical.

Here's a Google maps view of the narrow, one-way street in front of the Centifanti's house.

Google maps

 

Dr. Ethel Allen

Even those in favor of the museum had misgivings about the location. 

Yes, it's proximity to the Mother Bethel AME Church, the oldest black-owned church in the country, was appropriate but many felt, as respected Councilwoman Dr. Ethel Allen did, that the lot was too small "to do justice" to black history.

Several sympathetic Society Hill residents had offered financial help and cooperation to the church to perhaps build an archive and park on that location rather than the museum. 

Rev. Joseph Joiner, pastor of Mother Bethel, said he would consider the proposal.

Ultimately, the Society Hill residents were victorious. The time crunch worked in their favor. 

AAMP - BlackListedCulture.com image

If the museum was to open in time for the Bicentennial, organizers couldn't have the matter drag out.

A new location was chosen for what would become the African American Museum in Philadelphia - the northwest corner of  7th Street and Arch Street on a plot owned by the Redevelopment Authority.

On April  2, 1975, Ted Cam, the museum's architect, sprayed lighter fluid all over the miniature cardboard representation of the Black History Museum and set it on fire in front of 40 onlookers who had gathered at the vacant lot across from the Mother Bethel AME Church to witness the ceremony.

The Afro-American Cultural Museum opened their doors on June 18, 1976.

The original location, the corner of 6th and Pine, is now a parking lot. 

With the controversy surrounding the museum no longer a distraction for Bronwen, she could face the reality that her marriage to Jay was not working and she wanted a better life for herself, Jason and Dana. 

In retrospect, Jay was able to admit that he knew he was becoming increasing self-destructive and abusive to those around him. "I knew I was different, that there was something wrong," he recalled, "I just didn't know what it was at the time." 

And Jay must not have wanted to know or he would have been more open to the idea of therapy when Bronwen suggested it.

In May of 1975, 29-year-old Bronwen decided to leave Jay for good and she began making plans. She rented an apartment for herself and the children on the 100 block of South 20th Street. 

Hoping to avoid a nasty confrontation, Bronwen enlisted the help of a mutual friend who agreed to call Jay at work and break the news to him after she was out of the house. 

Unfortunately, Jay never received the phone call that day and he came home to an empty house.

By the time the mutual friend reached Jay by phone he was furious.

A meeting was arranged for Jay, the friend and a local minister (perhaps from The Old Pine Street Presbyterian Church at 412 Pine Street where Jay's jazz band the Tootsie Pops practiced?).

At a table for three in Society Hill's Cobblestones Restaurant, Jay demanded that Bronwen come back...immediately. 

He explained how hellish for him that summer two years prior had been when Bronwen and the kids were gone. He talked of suicide. Ultimately, Jay admitted his faults to his friends and he offered to change if only she would return.

It seems, however, that ship had sailed. Bronwen and the kids did not return. 

Jay's paranoia was amplified. He became convinced there was another man and he repeatedly grilled their friends to find out what they knew.  

He resorted to stalking Bronwen and bad-mouthing her to their friends. 

Jay warned his wife that if she filed for divorce that he would take the children and move to the Virgin Islands. Jay quite blatantly began following Bronwen around but she ignored him.

Jay called his mother Rosalie and explained the situation. She offered to help with the grandchildren, if needed, but other than that he was on his own. 

And on his own was right. 

The same month that his wife left him, Jay's employer told him that he'd be let go at the end of the year and that he should start looking for another job. It seems Jay's intensity and instability made him a poor fit for the company.

Seeing his law career coming to a temporary halt, Jay stopped dressing the part. He was seen about town more frequently in short and t-shirts. He began to lose weight.

On June 23, 1975, Jay and Bronwen were declared legally separated.

On July 21, 1975, Jay obtained a gun permit. 

On July 30th, Jay bought a used .38-caliber British bulldog revolver at Colosimo's Gun Center on 933 Spring Garden Street. 

Side note for history buffs - before a gun shop was there, that location on Spring Garden Street was where Milton Hersey opened his first candy store, on June 1, 1876.

On July 31st, Jay snatched his two children (Jason, 4 years old and Dana, 19 months) off the street, right in front of Bronwen. 

She was shocked but thinking them safe and feeling that Jay would soon tire of changing diapers and caring for two small children, she decided not to take legal action.

On August 10, 1975, Philadelphia Inquirer reporter Howard Shapiro interviewed Jay aboard a Philadelphia to Cape May, NJ train as part of a story he was writing about the demise of that rail line.

Shapiro remembered Jay as a small, friendly man with a well-chiseled face wearing Bermuda shorts and traveling with two small children. 

"He said his wife used to work down the shore and he liked visiting her there but that he didn't like to drive," Shapiro said.

"He said, yes, he always took his children, but he skirted two questions about his wife.

"Finally he said, 'We're separated.'"

Here's a photo taken that day which did not accompany Howward Shapiro's article published on August 17, 1975. 

Take a look at the t-shirt Jay is wearing. I'm fairly certain it's from the gift shop of the Afro-American Historical and Cultural Museum. 

This is the name adopted by the Black History Museum in 1976. It was only in 1997 that it was rechristened The African American Museum in Philadelphia (AAMP).

Philadelphia Inquirer photo, August 1975

The staff photographer's image would not go to waste. Jay's actions on August 15th guaranteed it would appear on the newspaper's front page.

On Friday, August 15, 1975, Jay showed up at Bronwen's place of employment, the Provident National Bank. 

Jay had the gun on him and was stopped by the guards but not detained when he showed them his permit. Jay's permit, it should be noted, did not allow for him to carry a concealed weapon

Fortunately for everyone in the bank, Bronwen had taken a personal day and was not in her office that afternoon. 

Hahnemann Medical College, 1979

Jay caught up with his wife around 6:30 PM that same day in the lobby of her apartment building on South 20th Street; she was in the company of 21-year-old Ira Chaiffetz.

Ira and Bronwen had met three weeks earlier in Rittenhouse Park. 

This was a Friday and the couple had dinner plans with some of Ira's friends in Swarthmore, a Philadelphia suburb that they would reach in a little over 30 minutes by taking a commuter train on the Media/Elwyn Line.

Bronwen carried a bottle of wine and a cheesecake for dessert.

Bronwen identified Jay to Ira as her her estranged husband. He was in a three-piece suit and carrying a briefcase. 

Jay was hot on their heels as Bronwen and Ira walked to the 30th Street train station. 

She ignored him, even as he repeatedly swung his briefcase into the back of her legs. 

Ira wasn't quite sure what to make of this display. He was unnerved but took his cues from Bronwen.

Nervous to reveal their destination to Jay, who was well within earshot, Ira bought two tickets on the local. 

Jay did not follow them on to the train. He didn't have to. He knew they would be back later that evening. All he had to do was wait.

Jay went home, dismissed the babysitter, put the kids to bed and changed his clothes. Off came the clothes of a lawyer; on came the casual clothes of a man about to kill his wife. 

Jay went back to the 30th Street station and took up a position on the platform. He was dressed in shorts, a Jaws t-shirt and carrying a gray-green raincoat.

 At 11:06 PM, Bronwen and Ira boarded a one-car Silverliner in Swarthmore and headed back towards the city.

Rather than exiting the train at 30th Street, the couple decided to continue on to the next stop, Suburban Station, at 16th Street and JFK Blvd. This would bring them closer to Bronwyn's 20th Street apartment. 

Standing between them and the Suburban Station was Jay.

How many trains making stops at 30th Street had Jay hopped on and off of while looking for his wife? 

I don't know if the Media/Elwyn schedule has changed too drastically in the last 46 years but there probably weren't more than two or three.

 

Ultimately, Jay's perseverance was rewarded. 

As Bronwen and Ira's train car pulled into the station, Jay spotted his wife sitting by a window and he would have seen she made no move to exit the train, so he got aboard ... without a ticket.

There were a total of 13 passengers and 3 crew members. 

When the conductor asked Jay for his ticket, he fumbled with his wallet, handed over some money, accepted his change and began walking towards the front of the car where Bronwen and Ira sat, their backs to him.

Almost immediately the shooting started. It's only six minutes between stations.

Standing about five feet behind Bronwen with the raincoat wrapped over his extended hand, witnesses said, Centifanti fired the .38 calibre weapon at his unsuspecting wife. 

Bronwen was shot five times in the head, upper body and once in the face; the latter bullet entering through her cheek.

Jay pointed the gun at Ira and yelled "Get off the train right now, or I'll kill you." 

Ira ran towards the front of the car and jumped. He ran back towards the 30th Street station for help.

Another passenger, George McDonnell, aged 37, approached Bronwen who was slumped over in her seat. 

Jay, weapon now clearly visible, ordered  McDonnell to jump from the moving train. The man jumped and fractured his left leg when he landed.

Jay started walking towards the front of the train. The engineer, Jay Smith, didn't need to be told - he jumped too.

With no engineer at the controls, the train's "dead man's switch" kicked in and the train slowly came to a stop.

Jay, likewise, jumped from the train and disappeared into the night.

Astonishingly, Bronwen staggered from her seat to the rear of the still-moving train and also jumped. 

She clawed up an embankment to the pavement of JFK Blvd, between 21st and 20th Street, where she collapsed.  She told rescuers, "My husband shot me. My husband shot me."

She sounds kind of bad-ass to me.

A wanted man

Seventy-five police officers scoured the area but could find no sign of Joseph Centifani. 

His face was splashed across the front pages of Philadelphia newspapers.

The only person who had any contact with Jay was his friend Dr. James Stard. 

Jay called Dr. Stard shortly after the incident and said "I shot my wife. See that my kids are taken care of."

Jason and Dana were not entrusted to Dr. Stard but turned over to the Stenton Child Care Center.

Dr. Stard revealed to police that it was possible Jay would try to get to the Virgin Islands. 

Jay had told his friend that there was job waiting for him in the Virgin Islands and police found that Jay indeed had purchased tickets to that destination but he not had an opportunity to use them. 

No airline had flights from Philadelphia to the Virgin Islands leaving Saturday morning.

Then again, Jay was a smart man who might have been trying to mislead police with his escape plan, so clearly detailed to a friend.

Bronwen was transported to Philadelphia General Hospital and, defying the odds, was listed in "stable condition" a mere two days later.

As is often the case, neighbors of the Centifantis who were interviewed by police and reporters were "shocked" to learn what Jay had done.  

Jay was described as "a nice guy who worked hard all day, came home at night and really took care of those kids."

Jay was still on the run when Bronwen returned to work, fifteen days after being shot five times. 

During their 13 state manhunt, police and the FBI had presumably checked all of the properties Jay had keys to, including several friends' houses and The Old Pine Street Presbyterian Church.

It was reported in a Sept 7, 1975 Philadelphia Inquirer article that Rosalie Hammond, Jay's mother, was concerned that 'he might come one day and kill her. She said she jumps at every sound.' 

A direct quote from Rosalie was, "I hope he gives himself up but if he doesn't, I hope he gets out of the country. If the police see him, they'll kill him."

It was theorized at one point that, with his life falling apart, Jay might have committed suicide. 

Philadelphia Inquirer

That belief was abandoned every time Jay picked up the phone. He might not have been seen but he was certainly heard.

On August 17th, two days after the shooting which had been headline news, Jay called Ernest R. von Starck, a senior member of Morgan, Lewis and Bockius and the man Jay felt was responsible for his dismissal from the company. 

The threat was short and to the point - "This is Jay. You're next."

Jay also made three long and rambling phone calls to a friend to discuss the possibility of him turning himself in to police.  

On October 24, 1975, Jay Cetifanti, accompanied by his attorney Thomas Masterson, did indeed turn himself in. Not to police, however, but to the Norristown State Hospital.

Jay was held in the hospital's maximum security wing until the courts could decide what to do with him.

A mental competency hearing was held on October 27, 1975 before Common Please Court Judge G. Fred DiBona. Jay was not allowed to attend. Dr. Marvin Greenberg, noted psychiatrist, spoke on behalf of Jay. 

Dr. Greenberg had been the one to examine Jay when he surrendered and found him "frightened, hyperactive and confused about events."

The Philadelphia Inquirer reported this in their October 28, 1975 coverage of the hearing:

"Responding to questions from Assistant District Attorney Michael Stiles, Greenberg said that Centifanti was mentally ill and 'at times, psychotic, with a profound paranoid system.

'He's itching for a fight with the forces around him ... the (court) proceedings intensify the idea that the world is one big adversary system,' Dr. Greenberg said.

'It will promote his suspicions and distrust. I think (his appearance) would postpone and prolong his getting well.

'It would be difficult for an attorney to help him because Centifanti can't make decisions. He'd try to run the case and be his own lawyer.'

According to Dr. Greenberg, Jay 'was having great difficulties with his wife and he had a history of alcoholism and great rages. He told me his wife was dealing with her problems, left him and took the children.

'He also learned he was going to be let go from his law firm. He cried. He didn't think he could live without his wife.'

Greenberg told the court that these pressures caused Mr. Centifanti to 'oscillate between depression, devastation and being a frightened person, a machine-like person who would remedy (his problems)' in a harsh, rigid and logical way.

'If he were a surgeon," Greenberg said, "I wouldn't let him in the operating room.'"

The hearing was postponed and a further examination of Jay's mental state was ordered.

A decision regarding Jay's competency to stand trial was handed down on November 6, 1975 by Judge G. Fred DiBona. 

It was determined that Mr. Centifanti was not able to stand trial. Instead Jay was to continue his incarceration at the Norristown State Hospital for an additional 60 days and ordered to undergo further psychiatric testing. 

During that time, Jay was diagnosed as bi-polar. Finally, he began to understand what was causing his drastic mood swings and irrational behavior.

On July 23, 1976, nine months after he turned himself in and nearly a year since he tried to kill his wife, Joseph Centifanti, 31-years-old, pleaded guilty but mentally ill to two counts of aggravated assault. All other related charges were dropped.

Under the terms of the plea deal worked out between Jay's lawyer Donald Goldberg and Assistant D.A. Michael Stiles, Jay would not go to a prison but he would be returning to the Norristown State Hospital for additional psychiatric treatment. 

Bronwen was not present during the hearing. At A.D.A. Stiles' recommendation, she stayed home that day.

Jay's confinement was to last no longer than 2 1/2 years. After his release in January 1978, Jay be placed on 5 years probation. 

Common Please Court Judge Edward J. Blake ordered Mr. Centifanti to stay away from his ex-wife, to continue with psychiatric treatment and to attend AA meetings.

Jay's time at Norristown didn't go well. Not at first anyway. 

He had made several attempts at suicide, including swallowing glass. 

Jay credits his attorney, Donald Goldberg and Dr. Henry Steadman as his saviors.

Mr. Goldberg saw to it that Jay was committed to Norristown, which is where Dr. Steadman saw potential in Jay. 

Perhaps some credit too should go to the drug lithium, which Jay was now prescribed.

Dr. Steadman convinced Jay that, with his legal background, he had a bright future in advocating for the rights of the mentally ill. 

Dr. Steadman's prophecy was true, advocacy became Jay's passion.

And where was Jay during his 2 months on the lam after shooting Bronwen? 

HiddenCityPhiladelphia.com photo

Well, he had spent more than a month hiding in the attic of The Old Pine Street Presbyterian Church.

The balance of the time was spent in NYC. 

While there, Jay stayed in a series of seedy hotels and attended as many operas and art shows as he could before decided to turn himself in.

But did Jay really decide for himself that it was time to surrender?

As Jay has explained repeatedly since his surrender, he had received a series of "command hallucinations" that guided his actions on August 15, 1975.

He describes these commands as words on a neon message board scrolling through his brain.

"KILL" 

"SHOOT HER NOW" 

It was only after Jay had shot Bronwen five times that the command "LET HER LIVE" came through. It was then that he jumped from the train.

Two months later, Jay would be commanded to "SURRENDER."

In late September of 1977, Jay was granted a temporary respite from the Norristown Hospital so that he could be transported to Arlington, VA to act as his own attorney in his divorce proceedings. 

When he filed his application for release, Jay argued that he was "a material witness, an indispensable party" in the proceedings. 

This time, the courts and psychiatrists agreed that allowing Jay to appear in court to represent himself would be "beneficial to his rehabilitation."

It's interesting to note that under "Legal grounds for cause of divorce" the September 27, 1977 decree lists only "one year separation" and not "attempted murder." 

This was the last time Jay would appear as a lawyer in any courtroom. In January 1980, his license was suspended for a five year period, retroactive to November 25, 1975.

Joseph B. Centifanti, the once promising law student, ultimately lost his right to practice law and the multiple "Petitions for Reinstatement" filed on his behalf were all rejected.

Several times a year over a six year period (1978-1984), Jay would sue Bronwen, seeking visitation and custody of their children.

With each new lawsuit, Brownen's frustration grew, prompting Ira Chaiffetz to suggest to her that they hire a hitmen. Surely, he was joking. Right?

The inability to practice law was certainly a thorn in Jay's side between 1982-1989. 

Equal to that, perhaps, was his continued animosity towards Ira Chaiffetz.

"Donahue" screen grab

I've uploaded a video of Jay Centifanti and his daughter Dana's appearance on the March 27, 1992 of "Donahue" to my YouTube channel. 

Here's a link - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTNqHmQHiJ0

It's a good opportunity for you to hear Jay speak for himself. 

To me, Jay's anger towards Ira seems palpable, even after 17 years but maybe he knew something the viewers didn't. Something not even Bronwen knew.

Ironically, it's possible Bronwen and Ira's relationship would have been short-lived were it not for Jay's shooting her on August 15, 1975. Did the shared trauma bring them closer together? We can't know.

In 1979, Ira N. Chaiffetz graduated from Philadelphia's Hahnemann Medical College. He was now Dr. Ira Chaiffetz.

On January 30, 1983, Bronwen and and Ira were married. 

Bronwen was employed as senior counsel on the Board of Governors for the Federal Reserve System.

I can see from the marriage certificate that the two Arlington, VA residents were already living together at the time. When cohabitation began, I cannot say and I'm not judging. Even Doris Day, who had several failed marriages, advocated living together first.

The union produced two children, David (in 1984) and Sarah (in 1985), but the marriage didn't last. In 1987, Bronwen and Ira divorced. Custody of the children was a hotly contested issue. 

The couple, residents of Georgia at the time of the divorce, agreed to shared custody. 

In 1989, Bronwen gave Ira full custody but retained visitation rights.

In 1991, Ira and his children lived in the town of Washington Court House, Ohio where Ira was working as an anesthesiologist at the Fayette County Memorial Hospital.

Bronwen relocated to Florida and would marry a third time, to a man named John Bello.

In October 1995, Ira found employment at the  North Central Correctional Institution (NCCI), a medium-security men's prison, as the prison doctor and it would be his undoing.

The family dynamics had shifted yet again. Sarah was living with the Bellos while David remained in Ohio with Ira.

Then, on August 23, 1996, a Florida domestic relations court awarded Bronwen custody of both David (then 12) and Sarah (aged 10).

Ira had difficulty accepting the court's ruling, despite seeing a letter written by his son David.

David wrote, "This request will no doubt surprise some, anger others and will relieve me knowing I have spoken my piece ..." The essence of the letter was that David would prefer to live in Florida with his mother.

It seems Ira, then 43-years-old, was in the habit of complaining to anyone who would listen, including coworkers and inmates, that his ex-wife was a terrible person. This was especially true after the latest custody battle.

One inmate who was happy to let Ira vent was inmate Victor Gatto. 

The two became acquainted in January 1996 when Dr. Chaiffetz scheduled emergency heart surgery for inmate Gatto and was then responsible for Gatto's post-surgery care.

Victor Gatto, then 55 years-old, was serving a 5 to 25 year sentence for forgery, theft, drug trafficking and possession of criminal tools. 

Jail time was nothing new for Victor Angelo Gatto, who bragged to Dr. Chaiffetz that he had been committing crimes as far back as 1962.

Ira supposedly soaked up these stories and found tales of Gatto's criminal life fascinating. It was a nice break from his own troubles. 

It's a bit of a he said-he said situation as to who approached whom but there's certainly a money trail that implicates Ira in a murder-for-hire plot with Gatto making the arrangements on Ira's behalf, in exchange for payment.

On May 14, 1997, Ira Chaiffetz was arrested when he showed up for work at NCCI and charged with conspiring to kill his ex-wife.

1997 mugshot

He pled not guilty and was released that evening after posting a $50,000 corporate bond.

Did Gatto see Ira as a patsy, an easy target? Someone he could manipulate and extract money from without actually providing a service? 

Did Ira believe the money he sent to Gatto's Las Vegas girlfriend was for real estate, as he maintains, or was it a truly down payment being made to a hitman who would kill the woman he once loved.

According to Gatto, in September of 1996, Ira asked him, thinking him a  man with mafia connections, if it was possible to have his wife "disappear."

Gatto assured him that for $12,000 he could make it happen and he asked Ira to send $4,000 to his girlfriend Mary McCauley in Las Vegas to get the ball rolling. 

There can be no doubt that Ira sent that amount of money to Mary McCauley. 

The following information comes directly from Marion County, Ohio court documents, dated June 17, 1999:

According to the plan, Chaiffetz would make three separate payments totaling $4,000, to Mary McCauley, Gatto’s Las Vegas girlfriend. 

The evidence at his trial confirmed that on September 23, 1996, Chaiffetz clocked out of work at 3:40 p.m., drove to a Huntington National Bank branch in Marion, Ohio, and withdrew $2,200 from his account. 

By 4:25 p.m., Chaiffetz purchased a cashier’s check for $2,000 from a Huntington National Bank branch in Delaware, Ohio. Chaiffetz used cash to purchase the check, making it payable to Mary McCauley, and gave the name “John Smith” as purchaser. 

On October 12, 1996, and again on November 20, 1996, bank surveillance cameras recorded Chaiffetz purchasing $1,000 cashier’s checks from State Savings Bank in Columbus, Ohio. 

Bank tellers confirmed that Chaiffetz used cash for these transactions, that the checks were made out to Mary McCauley,and that he gave the name “James McCauley” as purchaser.

It was Gatto’s testimony at trial that although he took this money from Chaiffetz (via McCauley) he never intended to carry out any plans to execute Bronwen Bello. 

Indeed, Gatto apparently instructed McCauley to use the money Chaiffetz sent to place bets on his behalf. Taped conversations between Gatto and McCauley supported the fact McCauley was upset with Gatto for gambling this money away.

It seemed that McCauley had hoped to use the money toward a future real estate purchase and did not want to alienate Chaiffetz from future participation in a real estate venture by squandering his money. Nevertheless, the evidence at trial also confirmed that McCauley used $500 of the money to purchase a secured credit card for herself.

Although there was some evidence that McCauley had hoped to use the money she had received for a future real estate purchase, it was McCauley’s contention at trial that she did not know exactly why she was receiving the cashier’s checks through the mail. She was aware that they had come from Chaiffetz (the two had some brief telephone conversations on the matter) as a result of his relationship with Gatto. 

She assumed that it had something to do with drugs since Gatto had a long history in the drug trafficking trade and McCauley recalled Gatto stating that Chaiffetz was interested in hearing about the business. It was not until about December 4, 1996 that she learned the purpose behind the checks. 

Gatto informed her in a letter “that the doctor wanted his wife whacked.” 

According to Gatto, after Chaiffetz sent payments totaling $4,000 to McCauley, Chaiffetz began to question Gatto about when the hitmen would complete their job. 

In order to stall Chaiffetz, Gatto made up a story that the hitmen had been arrested and detained in Florida and that he would have to arrange for different hitmen to kill Bello. 

In February 1997, unable to further stall Chaiffetz, and believing that “one way or another” the doctor would see that the execution took place, Gatto wrote a letter to the Attorney General of Ohio, Betty Montgomery, informing her of the violence he feared would take place.

As a result of Gatto’s letter, Trooper Kevin Smith from the Ohio State Highway Patrol was assigned to investigate Gatto’s allegations. Gatto subsequently agreed to assist police in apprehending Chaiffetz in exchange for the State’s promise of assistance in his upcoming parole hearing. 

To further the investigation, Gatto wore a recording device in April and May 1997, during three of his medical appointments. 

In the conversations recorded, Chaiffetz and Gatto discussed how Bello could be killed in a drive-by shooting; that “eight grand” was due when the execution was complete; that the hitmen would make Bello disappear the way Chaiffetz wanted and that, if he got in the way, the hitmen would take out John Bello as well. 

Moreover, the two men discussed how this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill “the broad”; that she would “be killed before the week's up;” it would happen right away; and that Chaiffetz was afraid he would have the “heat” on him.

According to Trooper Smith’s instructions, Gatto told Chaiffetz to send the “hitmen” photographs of Bello. Gatto gave Chaiffetz the address of a specific Cleveland, Ohio, post office box that was then monitored by police. 

An envelope addressed to “James McCauley” containing pictures of Bronwen Bello was sent through the Columbus, Ohio Post Office, with a postmark dated April 11, 1997. 

The postal inspector in Cleveland recovered the envelope on April 14, 1997 and turned it over to Trooper Smith. No fingerprints were recovered from the envelope or photos; however, a handwriting analysis of the address written on the envelope claimed “similarities” to Chaiffetz’s known handwriting.

Also at the trooper’s direction, Gatto requested Chaiffetz make an additional payment to McCauley. Gatto suggested to a reluctant Chaiffetz that he should pay $2,000 more, half the contract price, before the hitmen would be sent to kill Bello. 

Following this discussion, a bank teller and surveillance photographs from State Savings Bank in Columbus, Ohio, confirmed that Chaiffetz purchased another $1,000 cashier’s check, made it payable to Mary McCauley, and gave a purchaser name of “James McCauley.” 

On May 8, 1997, McCauley received the check along with a note, which read: “rest very soon.” Police recovered this check and note from McCauley. Handwriting analysis on the envelope again identified Chaiffetz as the author, however, since the note was written in block
letters, the handwriting analyst could not identify Chaiffetz as the author of the note. 

Four days later, during a taped conversation between Gatto and Chaiffetz, Gatto informed Chaiffetz that Mary McCauley had received “that thing yesterday,” that he “called and told them [hitmen] go ahead,” and that Bello would “be killed before the week’s up.”
 

On May 14, 1997, Trooper Smith interviewed Chaiffetz regarding his relationship with Gatto, wherein he denied the preceding events. Specifically, he denied hiring Gatto to kill his ex-wife, sending any money to Mary McCauley in Las Vegas, talking with Mary McCauley on the phone, possessing any photographs of his ex-wife, and sending any photographs of her to a Cleveland post office box.
 

At trial, Chaiffetz admitted that he lied to the trooper about a number of things during the May 14th interview out of fear that he would lose his job at N.C.C.I. if it were known that he had a relationship with an inmate. Chaiffetz did concede that he sent money to McCauley, but he claimed the payments were for real estate purposes.

There was evidence at trial that in the fall of 1996, Gatto and McCauley had talked about purchasing some Las Vegas real estate with Chaiffetz. McCauley agreed to investigate real estate properties and to send Gatto information on the properties so he could review them as potential investment opportunities with Chaiffetz. 

Thus, Chaiffetz contended at trial that the money he sent to McCauley was to show that he was serious about investing and also for use as a deposit on property. However, there was no evidence at trial that McCauley’s real estate inquiries in Las Vegas ever culminated in serious plans to purchase any particular piece of real estate. 

In fact, Chaiffetz admitted that he had no documentation relating to any real estate transaction, that Gatto and McCauley had no expertise in real estate, that he had never visited nor did he ever intend to live in Las Vegas, and that he really did not trust Gatto, given his criminal history and Mafia connections.

Chaiffetz also denied sending photographs of Bronwen Bello to Cleveland and implied that Gatto must have stolen some old photos of Bello from his desk at N.C.C.I. and mailed them to Cleveland himself. Furthermore, Chaiffetz claimed that he sent McCauley the $1,000 payment in May of 1997 in an attempt to stop any plot to assassinate Bello. 

According to Chaiffetz, Gatto, apparently out of a sense of loyalty or friendship, had repeatedly brought up the idea of using his “connections” to kill Bello, given the grief she had caused in Chaiffetz’s life. 

Although Chaiffetz claimed he had always refused such an idea, thinking Gatto was not serious, Gatto had become so insistent in regard to the idea, that Chaiffetz feared he would actually send hitmen out to kill Bello unless Chaiffetz pacified Gatto with money. 

There was no evidence at trial that Chaiffetz ever contacted authorities regarding this perceived threat or otherwise attempted to warn Bello of impending danger.

Ira maintained his innocence throughout the two week trial and tried to explain his actions in a way that would exonerate him.

When asked by the Marion County prosecutor Jim Slagle why he would keep photos of his ex-wife, whom he had divorced 10 years ago, in his desk drawer at work, Ira said "I was going to make a collage as it was an anxiety relieving maneuver,"

Ira's attorney James Owen told jurors that the covert records of conversation between Gatto and his client, which they had listened to weren't serious discussions. 

He described Chaiffetz as a "flamboyant" person who "loved to talk about bizarre things."

Even if that's true, the evidence against him was overwhelming. 

On February 13, 1998, the jury found Ira Nathan Chaiffetz guilty of conspiracy to commit murder.

On April 9, 1998, Ira was sentenced to nine years in prison and ordered to pay a fine of $20,000.

Several jurors, through letters, expressed empathy for Dr. Chaiffetz, feeling he had been "set up" and framed by "Gatto."

However, Ira had spent eight months plotting with Gatto to kill his wife.

Of course, it is true that Gatto had a history of setting people up to take a fall and he had done so previously as an FBI informant.

For instance:

In July 1984, Cleveland lawyer Jonathan H. Soucek was retained to defend Victor Gatto in connection with a felonious assault charge. 

Soucek secured Gatto’s release from jail by becoming the guarantor of Gatto’s $10,000 bond but later grew concerned about whether he could rely on Gatto’s subsequent appearance in court. 

On October 2, 1984, Mr. Soucek asked Gatto to act as a go-between in a drug deal with Leslie "Thunder" Morgan, another client of Soucek's

Soucek told Gatto he was willing to pay $200,000 for eight kilograms of cocaine and another $50,000 for 50,000 Quaaludes.

Gatto alerted the authorities about the exchange of a cocaine sample that was to take place in a restroom at Cleveland Hopkins Airport on October 25, 1984. 

The FBI supplied the cocaine and Soucek was arrested that day as he exited the men's room carrying a briefcase containing the one kilogram of cocaine.

Feb 1998

In 1998, Victor Angelo Gatto was indeed rewarded for the part he played in Chaiffetz's conviction; he was granted an early release. 

If that was Gatto's intention all along, as Ira's attorney told the jury, it was a good one.

When asked, in May 1997, about this second attempt by one of her husbands to kill her, Bronwen told a Columbus Dispatch reporter "It just boggles my mind how this happens to me. I'm just a perfectly normal person. Really." 

Also weighing in on the murder plot was Jay Centifanti, who claimed he and his ex-wife now had a friendly relationship.

When asked about Ira Chaiffetz, Jay observed "He's the worst thing in the world - he's another me. He's an ill-treated manic depressive. I wish he goes through a change in his head like I did."

Ira did undergo a change while in prison. 

On September 9, 1998, the State Medical Board permanently revoked his medical license.

On the bright side, he also found love. On April 12, 2000, Ira married Laura J.  Toms in a small room near the inmate visiting area. 

A December 28, 2008 piece by The Columbus Dispatch Mike Harden reporter titled "Prison Past Stalls Doctor’s Future" focused on former doctor Ira Chaiffetz and how difficult it's been for hin since his 2007 parole. 

Here are some passages and quotes from Ira:

 “I’m a bright, capable and creative-enough guy. I’m someone accustomed to being useful to society.

“What does one do in the labor market with the job skills of a defrocked physician?”

“The way I managed to make it through nine years in prison was to pretend I wasn’t there.”

“I’ve applied for every job I could” since his parole in 2007, Chaiffetz said. “Five hundred, easy. But when you have a nine-year gap in your employment record, there is no way to make that look good.

“For years, I had a job where I acquitted myself quite successfully.”

Prospective employers have agreed that he might be a good candidate for this position or that, though Chaiffetz said their praise is always followed by the inevitable, “We’ll have to run this by our legal department.”

ThisWeekNews.com

“Even in the most egalitarian society in the world,” Chaiffetz said, “things aren’t always as they should be.”

It's interesting that Ira's complaints about not being able to do the job he's most qualified for mirrors that of Jay Centifanti. 

No doubt, Ira had very little sympathy for Jay when he was found guilty of attempted murder and lost his right to practice law.

These days, Ira "Twangs" Chaiffetz can be found playing the banjo at local fairs and ice cream socials.

Jay Centifanti has more than lived up to Dr. Henry Steadman's expectations. He's a tireless advocate for those afflicted with mental illness. 

"Do you need someone to do detail work?" Centifanti asked in a June 6, 1989 article that appeared in the Indianapolis News. 

"Schizophrenics are dreamers and planners. They function brilliantly in creative jobs like advertising and public relations. Manic-depressives are true workers, high-energy people who can accomplish mountains of research."

Of course, Jay's still considered a little too intense, never at a loss for words and disarmingly blunt. 

A profile of Jay that was published in the December 13, 1998 edition of (PA's) The Morning Call, in which Jay willingly refers to himself as one of Philadelphia's most famous "criminal fruitcakes," revealed to readers that "Centifanti no longer takes medication to treat his illness - his own unscientific theory is that manic depression burns itself out in some men when they reach middle age."

The Morning Call -  Dec. 13, 1998

The Pittsburgh Post Gazette ran a piece on Jay in their May 7, 2000 edition in which he expressed the belief "that the real culprit for his actions (shooting his wife 5 times) was his drinking problem, which he said began partly as a way to 'medicate' himself to deal with his manic-depressive symptoms."

Philadelphia's Colosimo's Gun Center closed their doors for good in 2009 as part of a federal plea agreement over "straw" purchases, in which one person with a clean record legally buys a gun, then passes it to someone barred from making purchases, such as a convicted felon. Not that that was a factor when Jay was a customer.

Bronwen will turn 75 this year and I hope she's enjoying retirement in Florida with her family - she's earned it. 

For more on the life and brutal death of atheist Madalyn Murray O'Hair, I recommend episode #222 of "My Favorite Murder." Here's a link - https://myfavoritemurder.com/222-that-s-how-water-works/

Black Arm Bands For Christmas

It would be an oversimplification to say that Professor Wren A. Stone ruined Christmas in 1935.

His actions on December 24th of that year most likely left a sorrow that would linger for years to come; as anyone who has lost a loved one on or around a specific holiday can attest.

For me, Easter Sunday is when my maternal grandmother died. Thanksgiving is the last time I spoke to my Aunt Tish before she died. Etc, etc. Most of us have a similar sadness.

In 1935, Wren Stone let his anger, bitterness and hatred for one man get the better of him and on Christmas Eve, he exacted his revenge. 

On that day, Stone shot Floyd Oakes two times, killing him instantly and shortly afterwards Stone took his own life with the same gun.

El Paso-Herald Post photo

 

As Hugh M. Gardner, someone familiar with the situation, would observe, "The full story will never be told. Both men are dead. Mr. Stone must have been crazy to do such a thing."

Why?

Who was Oakes to Stone?

Wren Stone, aged 43, was an assistant mathematics professor at New Mexico A&M State College (an agricultural college), located in Las Cruces, NM. He'd been on staff since 1929.

Floyd Oakes, aged 46, while not a member of the college staff, headed up New Mexico's Feed and Fertilizer Control Department and he, upon his 1930 appointment to that position, had been given an office on the New Mexico A&M campus.

Another connection between the two men was that until recently Wren's wife Vae Stone was employed as a stenographer in Oakes's office. When Vae started working for Oakes is uncertain but it's widely accepted to be at the root of the trouble.

Vae quit her job in September of 1935 after Floyd objected to the long hours she was working. 

In fact, when Vae was required to work one Saturday in the summer of 1935, things got especially heated between the two men and there was a reported "physical altercation" between Stone and Oakes in the latter's office.

One would think that when Vae stopped working for Oakes the tension would ease but this wasn't the case. 

Whether real or imagined, Wren Stone believed Floyd Oakes was spreading rumors about him around town. Newspaper accounts following the murder-suicide make vague references to stories concerning Wren's "conduct while on a trip in northern New Mexico."

On December 23, 1935, Wren Stone sat down and typed two letters - an act which shows definite premeditation on Stone's part.

The first letter was addressed to Professor J.W. Branson, head of the Mathematics Dept., and Dr. G.N. Strom, attached to the College's Agronomy Dept. 

It was essentially a resignation letter in which Stone said "Gentlemen: You will find my grade book in my desk, all up to date. My insurance papers are in my safety box. .... Thanks for your kindness in the past."

The second letter, addressed to "whom it may concern," revealed Stone's reasons for killing Oakes. We will never know the full content of this letter as the District Attorney chose to keep it from the public eye. 

D.A. Martin A. Threet said "This is over. I do not see anything to be gained from publishing the letters, I owe it to both families to keep them private."

However, portions of the second letter did make into various newspapers, perhaps via the college's acting President Hugh M. Gardner who wished to insure that this tragedy wouldn't be a reflection on the college and who was quick to make mention of "petty differences" between the two men and to stipulate that Mr. Oakes was not a college employee.

"I have stood it as long as I am going to - this is the last time," Stone's second letter said. Also, "Both families would have had a happier Christmas, had not lies been told about me."

The morning after typing these letters, Wren Stone drove to the campus and at 8:30 AM on Christmas Eve, he shot Floyd Oakes as Oakes was exiting his car, parked just outside of the music hall building. 

According to his death certificate, Floyd Oakes died from "Gun shot wounds of bridge of nose, entering through the brain, one through the right anterior clavicle region and one on the back of the left hand."

There were no witnesses to the actual shooting but upon hearing the gunshot, people in the nearby buildings looked out of their windows just in time to see Oakes fall to the ground and Stone speed away in his car.

Stone didn't go far. He drove to Professor Branson's home to hand deliver the first letter. He said little until Branson asked him "if there is anything wrong?"

"I've just killed Oakes," Stone responded and then he drove away. But not very far.

One half mile away, Stone pulled the car over, put the gun to his right temple and pulled the trigger. 

Police found him there, slumped over the steering wheel. His pockets held a bottle of poison and the "to whom it may concern" letter.

Both men left behind a widow and two children each.

Wren Stone in 1917

At the time of the double tragedy, Wren Stone and Vae Arnold had been married for 20 years. Their 21st wedding anniversary was less than a week away.

They had two children - their daughter Marybeth was 13 years old in 1935 and their son Troy was 10 years old.

At the time of his murder, Floyd Oakes had been married to Bernice Bridwell for 17 years. 

They likewise had two children, both girls - Eleanor, aged 13 and Marjorie, 11 years old. 

Christmas plans at the Oakes house carried on without a mention to either girl of their father's death. 

Marjorie's health was fragile. She had a weak heart and had been bedridden for some time but Marjorie had been looking forward to sharing Christmas dinner with the family. 

Fearful that the shock would be too great, relatives thought it best to keep the sad news from her. She would learn it eventually.

Floyd Oakes in 1920

The bodies of both men were shipped out of state for burial. 

Wren A. Stone is buried in Louisburg Cemetery in Louisburg, Kansas

Floyd E. Oakes is buried in Fairlawn Burial Park in Hutchinson, Kansas. 

Vae Stone never remarried. 

An October 31, 1951 newspaper article about Troy Stone being awarded the Navy's Distinguished Flying Cross medal for outstanding service in the Far East stated Vae was an employee of the Veteran's Administration in Albuquerque, NM.

Vae died on February 3, 1988, six days shy of her 94th birthday. She died in San Diego but she's buried beside Wren in Kansas.

The 1940 Census shows Bernice Oakes and her children living in Kansas with Bernice's widowed mother Mary. 

Bernice married for a second time in 1964 when she was 67-years-old. 

Bernice's new husband was William Porter Bixler, a 76-year old widower who's first wife, Isabel, had died 4 months earlier in a traffic accident. 

Mr. Bixler died on October 16, 1973 and he was buried in El Paso, Texas, beside his first wife.

Bernice outlived her youngest daughter Marjorie who, according to an Ancestry family tree, died on May 31, 1958 from "heart trouble" at the age of 34 years.

Bernice Oakes Bixler died on December 14, 1987, she was 90-years-old. She shares the burial plot in Kansas with Floyd.

If anyone reading this is familiar with the New Mexico A&M College, the name J.W. Branson may ring a bell. Professor Branson became the College's President in 1949 and several buildings on campus are named after him.

Portrait of J.W. Branson, painted by his sister-in-law Lona Wilson Branson

 

Here's a story that I can't personally substantiate but one that is of interest and it comes from an Ancestry member:

Per Rilla Oakes Arnold (sister of Floyd Oakes): We had gotten a message that he (Floyd) had been killed! His work at the college in New Mexico required him to take trips here and there. He came home from a trip the day before Christmas, I think it was 1935 or 1936. He had some work to do so he asked his secretary if she could meet him at the office Christmas morning and help him awhile. She said she would. He drove down to the college, parked his car, opened the door to get out and a man shot him three times. He fell out dead, never knew what hit him. The man handed another man a note and ran farther down the campus and shot himself. His mind was deranged and was insanely jealous of his wife. He had the idea that Floyd and his wife were having an affair. Floyd had had a talk with him six or eight months before and thought he had convinced him that he was happily married and had no design on his wife or anyone else's. Before Christmas the man had sent poisoned candy to his family and Floyd's family also in the mail. Bernice thought Floyd had sent the candy home so when one of her little girls asked if she could have some of it, she said yes but do not give any to Marjorie, her sister had a heart condition and could not have candy, but she could give the Mexican girl, who was working for them, some of it. She did give her some and in a minute she was on the floor in convulsions. Eleanor had put some in her mouth but had not eaten it yet. Bernice had both girls stomach pumped out immediately and they got alright.

Inka Dinka Don't

Minneapolis
Star photo

Picture a young mother enjoying a day out. 

She's delighted to have scored a ticket to one of Pittsburgh's hottest shows. And it's a seat on the aisle. 

But things take a nasty turn and she leaves the theater in tears - thoroughly humiliated by the star performer who has taken liberties.

If you're thinking this is a blog post about R Kelly - you're wrong.

The man in question is Jimmy Durante and the year is 1935.

Jimmy had been booked for a week long engagement at Pittsburgh's Penn Theater, starting February 15th and ending February 21st. 

He arrived on Wednesday, February 13th.

While in town, Durante was also appearing at the Schenley Hotel Continental Room as part of the Pittsburgh Press Pinochle Tournament - top prize of $500.00.

Typical of the time, the program at The Penn consisted of live performances and a feature film. 

In this instance, the film being shown was "The Gilded Lily" starring Claudette Colbert.

The Pittsburgh Press, Feb 16, 1935

Durante's arrival and scheduled performances were big news in Pittsburgh that February.

His song "Inka Dinka Doo" (released in 1934) was a huge hit plus Durante was well-known to audiences for his appearances on stage, radio and the big screen.

On February 18th 1935, at a matinee performance, Mrs. Evelyn Loether entered his life. 

Well, actually, she was just sitting there and Durante found her.

Part of Durante's act involved him coming down off the stage and interacting with the audience and he'd simply picked the wrong target.

Two days later, Durante was hit with a lawsuit filed by Herman and Evelyn Loether, demanding $5,000 (that's $95,032.12, in today's money). 

They were seeking financial compensation for Durante having assaulted Evelyn Loether then humiliating both Mr. and  Mrs. Loether.

According to the plaintiffs, Durante "seized her (Evelyn) in an indiscreet manner.

"He made an unlawful, illegal assault upon her by placing his arm around her neck and kissing her.

"Without her consent and overcoming her resistance, he put her arms around his neck and forced her head against his.

"He kissed her left cheek ... knocked her hat off her head and her coat off her lap."

Durante returned to the stage, shouted to the audience "I can't forget this girl" and "Boy, am I in luck" then he sang a song while pointing to where the Loethers sat. 

Unfortunately, the song is not named in any of the newspaper reports but apparently it was risque in nature and audience members were eager to see what said girl looked like. 

There was much craning of heads while Evelyn cowered in embarrassment then left the theater with tears in her eyes and howls of laughter ringing in her ears.

Durante vehemently denied any wrongdoing before, during and after posting his $1000 bond. 

"Aw, it's just one of those things," Durante replied when asked about the validity of charges.

"Kiss her? Of course, I didn't kiss her. I know better than that.

"It's just a gag, see. I slips down from the stage and runs to where she is. Then I says 'Oh, I thought you were alone,' for there was a man with her. Her husband, as it develops.

"But get this straight - I didn't touch her. And they won't get no $5,000 from me.

"I'm going to try and get the case postponed, and then I'll come back for the hearing."

Star Tribune - Feb 22, 1925

On the surface, Durante seemed little concerned. He mugged for the cameras and claimed, naturally, to be "mortified." 

However, according to Durante's biographer Jhan Robbins, the matter weighed on him. Jimmy was especially worried about how his wife Jeanne would react to the news. 

This passage, with quotes from Durante's longtime friend and theatrical partner Eddie Jackson is from "Inka Dinka Doo: The Life of Jimmy Durante" - 

While a lawyer was working an out-of-court settlement, Jimmy moped in his hotel suite. "Jeanne hadn't come with him," Jackson said. "But the radio reported what happened and she must have thought Jimmy was playing around. She kept calling him."

Jackson remembered him muttering, "I'm innocent. There was no evil content in my actions."

I perused two Durante biographies, looking for information about this incident. 

The aforementioned Jhan Robbins book, from 1991, states Durante "kissed the cheek of a lady sitting in an aisle seat. When he got back on the stage he said 'Boy, I can't forget that gal.' The lady laughed and started applauding. But the next day we heard that she was suing Jimmy for five thousand dollars. She said that he had humiliated her in front of her friends."

According to "Schnozzola: The Story of Jimmy Durante," published in 1951 and written by Gene Fowler, "One afternoon Jimmy went among members of the audience to improvise jokes and comments. He paused in his mad gallop to kiss the head of a woman sitting in the fourth row, then returned to the stage, shouting 'Boy! I can't forget that gal!' The audience laughed and applauded.

"The next day the kissed woman and her husband sued Durante for five thousand dollars, charging that he had humiliated her."

I'm happy to not see any vilification of either Evelyn or Herman Loether in the 1935 newspaper accounts and I suppose I'm relieved simply because I don't get a sense of Evelyn being a money-grubbing opportunist.

At the time the lawsuit was filed, Evelyn, her husband Herman Carl and their 4-year-old son Herman John lived at 25 Merritt Avenue in Carrick (Pittsburgh), PA. Mr. Loether made his living as a building contractor.

The closest we come to anyone taking sides is when The Pittsburgh Press reported, on February 25, 1935, that hundreds of theatergoers who had attended that February 18 matinee performance were willing to testify on Durante's behalf.

The lawsuit did, in fact, drag on although perhaps even longer than Durante had hoped for.

According to the May 15, 1938 edition of The Atlanta Constitution, in an article about the hazards of unsolicited "public osculation" (that's just a fancy word for "kissing"), Durante "had just paid" an out of court settlement in the amount of $300.00. ($5,701.93, in today's money.)

Atlanta Constitution, artwork by Colin Allen

A few months later, the Loethers purchased an 8-room house at 443 Antenor Ave in Carrick - very near their previous residence.

In 1945, the Loethers moved west to California, where Herman's parents and his brother John lived. John, in 1939 at least, was working at M-G-M Studios.

Oakland Tribune-Aug 19, 1954

Evelyn spent 17 years working as an "Ice Cream Lady" for Challenge Dairy, demonstrating dairy products at grocery stores in the LA Basin.

Evelyn and Herman relocated to West Point, Calaveras County, California in 1969 which is where Herman died on March 19, 1974, at the age of 65. 

Evelyn was known to many in West Point as "Mrs. Santa" after starting and holding children's Christmas parties, with the assistance of the West Point Lions Club and local AARP Chapter, for nearly 2 decades

She moved back to the Los Angeles area in 1995. Evelyn passed away, in Torrance, on May 10, 2000 (her birthday).

Jimmy Durante's career survived this incident, which doesn't even warrant a mention on his Wikipedia page. 

Jeanne and Jimmy, 1933

 Jimmy's beloved wife of 21 years, Jeanne (aka "Mrs. Calabash"), passed away on February 14, 1943, after a lingering heart ailment.

Durante married again, in 1960, to Margie Little, a woman 26 years his junior. 

They had met in 1944 when she was a hatcheck girl at NYC's Copacabana. 

On Christmas Day 1961, Jimmy and Margie adopted a little girl.  

 

Margie died on June 7, 2009, at the age of 89.

Durante suffered a stroke in 1972 and died on January 29, 1980.

That's a lot of raisins

Nothing ruins a night out like coming home to discover your home has been burgled. Such was the situation, on November 15, 1919, for Clara and Albert Yost.

Missing from their Lockport, Illinois home was a small sum of cash, a suitcase containing old clothing and some groceries, including salt, sugar, potatoes and 25 pounds of raisins. 

That's a lot of raisins.

Why would anyone, other than a commercial baker, have 25 pounds of dried fruit on hand? 

Could it have something to do with the passage of The Volstead Act on October 28, 1919?

Prohibition, soon to be the 18th Amendment to our Constitution, had been proposed before Congress on December 17, 1917 and was due to go into effect on January 17, 1920. President Wilson vetoed the Volstead Act but the US Senate voted 65 to 20 to override his veto.

The Volstead Act, known more formally as The National Prohibition Act, defined the laws prohibiting the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within the United States and its territories. 

Illinois was soon to be "a dry state." 

The consumption of alcohol wouldn't be illegal but once your stash ran out, you'd be unable to legally buy any more. 

However, the Volstead Act did allow individuals to make wine and cider, up to 200 gallons, but not beer in their homes.

Not that we know the Yosts were planning to manufacture cider for personal consumption but it certainly seems possible. However, it's immaterial. No matter what was stolen, they were victims of a crime.

Following a Thanksgiving dinner shared with friends, the Yosts consulted a spirit board about a great many things. Someone in the group suggested they ask Ouija about the burglary. 

With no major breaks in the case, after leaving it in the hands of the police for 12 days, why not turn to a Ouija for clues?

 

 

The planchette hesitated initially but soon the Yosts had their answer. 

F-R-A-N-K-W-A-L-T-E-R.

This was unbelievable. Frank Walter was a friend and neighbor.

 

Mr. Yost asked Ouija if Frank had acted alone. N-O

Was Frank's wife Lydia with him? Y-E-S

This was hardly proof-positive so nobody contacted the police but the planchette had most assuredly driven a wedge between the two families.

News of what was revealed by Ouija began circulating in Lockport but the Walter family remained unaware of the rumors. 

For Lydia, the first sign of trouble in the friendship came weeks later when she decided to run for the position of Oracle in the Royal Neighbors of America. 

The RNA, founded in 1895 as a Ladies Auxiliary of the Modern Woodmen of America, is still in existence.

Members, then and now, devote themselves to goods works and female empowerment. 

"Royal" symbolizes the nobility of their work and "Neighbors" signifies neighbors helping neighbors. These days, the organization specializes in Scholarships, Insurance and Annuities.

Their logo, unchanged since 1894, is a flower with 5 petals. Each petal stands for individual qualities the members hope to embrace - Faith, Endurance, Courage, Modesty, Unselfishness. The center spot represents Morality.

Lydia expected her friend and lodge sister Clara Yost to support her fully in the upcoming election but what she got instead was a worthy opponent .... in and out of the organization. 

Clara won the election and Lydia soon heard the rumors being circulated about her and Frank. Lydia was outraged and demanded a public apology. 

"Apologize for what?" was Clara's position. It was the Ouija Board and not the Yosts that called Frank and Lydia Walter thieves. There would be no apology.

Lydia wouldn't let it go. Not that she wasn't open to the idea of the supernatural or alternative thinking; Lydia herself was a member of a local Spiritualist Society but she felt she was the victim of slander. 

Rather than wait for an apology that was never coming, Lydia Walter hired an attorney and sued her former friend for slander and defamation. 

She was seeking $10,000 in damages. That's $130,140.00, in today's money.

The lawsuit, announced in early 1920, wouldn't be put before the judge and jury until April 1921.

Lydia's lawyer, State Representative and fellow Lockport resident, William R. McCabe, threatened to call Ouija as a witness and potential jurors were asked if they believed in messages received through this medium. 

Judge De Selm, 1914

Circuit Court Judge Arthur W. De Selm ruled that belief or disbelief in Ouija wasn't a factor in the men's ability to serve as jurors.

 After all the testimony was heard, Judge De Selm's instructions to the jury included the following directive, "If there was malice behind Ouija's declarations, the defendant must be found guilty. But, if Ouija manifestly was in a jocular humor and merely jesting, the defendant must be found not guilty."

Over the course of two hours, the jury cast three ballots. The first being 9 to 3 in favor of the defendant, the second 11 to 1 and the third unanimous for her. 

The trial was over and Clara Yost was deemed not responsible for Ouija's actions.

Lydia Walter announced her intention to appeal the verdict. 

On April 29, 1921, Judge De Selm granted Lydia Walter's request for a new trial. 

Unfortunately, I've been unable to find out if she went ahead with the second trial or let the matter drop. Perhaps there was an apology?

In 1936, after years of investigating corruption within the state, Lydia's attorney William R. McCabe (1884-1958) left politics and his law practice behind him when he purchased The Joliet Spectator, a weekly newspaper. 

McCabe's editorial stance made him more than a few enemies.

In fact, on April 16 1938, Deputy Sheriff Leahm Kelly assaulted McCabe on the street in protest of an article McCabe published calling for his removal from office. 

One day earlier, bricks had been thrown through the Spectator's front windows. Leahm Kelly denied there was a connection. 

A much more serious and anonymous attack occurred on April 7, 1947 when McCabe was severely beaten and left for dead. He never fully recovered.

McCabe's partner in publishing (each owing 48 shares of the newspaper) was a woman 25 years his junior - Amelia "Molly" Zelko. 

Molly's long association with McCabe began in 1927 when she was 17 years old and she was hired on as McCabe's secretary. 

In 1936, Molly followed him into the newspaper business. Molly was, by all accounts, a tenacious reporter/editor who, just like her mentor McCabe, took a hard stance on corruption and made enemies.

Molly mysteriously disappeared the night of September 25, 1957. 

Popular opinion holds that Molly had been targeted by mobster Sam Giancana.

Rather then take you down the very deep Molly Zelko rabbit hole myself, I  strongly recommend the 8 part "Who Killed Molly Zelko?" podcast series, co-produced by the Joliet Area Historical Museum and Joliet Public Library.

Here's a link - https://www.thespectatorpodcast.com/podcast

We can never know how seriously either the Yosts or the Walters took their consultations with the spirit world. Occultism was very popular in the early 1920s. 

Was it, for any of them, merely a lark or did they legitimately have questions for loved ones on the other side? It's impossible to know.

Lydia Walter may have begun dabbling in spiritualism as a way to communicate with her brother Otto E. Lundstrom who had been shot to death by his morphine-addled wife Alberta Lundstrom aka Vera Lee on January 17, 1909. 

Alberta's sentence for this crime was rather slight considering she'd killed a man - only 18 months, of which she served 16 months before being released. It was generally accepted that having kicked her drug habit, she could live a good life outside of prison walls. 

 Did Lydia consider turning to Ouija for answers in July 1922 when her 17 year old daughter Marie was "lured away" from home by a mysterious stranger?

The article to the left indicates "everything would be forgiven if Marie would come home." 

Sounds like an elopement.

Is their daughter, Marie Louise Walter, who so readily performed at social functions in and around Lockport, Illinois as early as 1914, and who delighted her mother's guests with "an impromptu program of instrumental and vocal music," the same Marie Walter who later partnered with Edw. F. Williams and Madeline Smith to form the Marie Walter Company, which was actively touring the country in the early 1920s?

I'll be honest in saying that I don't know. It's certainly plausible but I'm not sure.

This is another situation were I'll let the readers decide for themselves.

Here are a few pictures from the company's press kit.

 

Compare the woman in these photos with the one picture of the missing Marie Walter.

In photo 1, Marie would be the woman pictured twice and not sitting at the piano. I believe that woman is Madeline Smith.

Those two photos show Marie Walter and Edw. F Williams.

Whatever drama swirled around the Walter family in 1922 when Marie disappeared, there is a Michigan marriage certificate for Marie Walter and a Frank Schmidt, dated June 23, 1933, which states that they each had been married once before. 

Frank's age is listed as 56 and Marie is 29. 

The Schmidts were still together in 1940, according to that year's Census, and living in St. Louis, Missouri with their 7 year old daughter. Elaine.

Lydia Walter (44 years old during the trial) died on November 3, 1927, at the age of 50. Her husband Frank died on January 13, 1934, he was 74.

Clara Yost (35 years old during the trial) died in January 1959, she was 73. Albert lived the longest, dying on January 27, 1968 at the age of 92. 

Molly Zelko's body has never been found. 

It may interest you to know that on October 13, 1946, former Deputy Sheriff Leahm Kelly was gunned down in his driveway, in full view of his wife and 4 year old daughter. 

On April 2, 1947, Leahm's brother Dennis Kelly was ambushed and shot but survived. He wouldn't be so lucky 6 years later. 

On March 5, 1953, Dennis Kelly was taken out by 2 shotgun blasts to his body, followed by 2 shots to his head with a .45 caliber handgun.

Both brothers were described as "jukebox kingpins" and it was well-known that the mafia was trying to control the coin-op business in Illinois. At the time of his murder, Dennis was also a business agent of the Joliet local 714  AFL bartenders union.

All of this and more can be found in the "Who Killed Molly Zelko?" podcast. 

Here's that link again -  https://www.thespectatorpodcast.com/podcast