For the Thrill of It: Leopold, Loeb, and the Murder That Shocked Jazz Age Chicago by Simon Baatz Read Free Book Online Page A

custody have you been beaten by anybody?…Have any of the police or my assistants been rough, or anything of the kind?…You haven’t any bruises on your body, have you? 1
Robert Crowe, state’s attorney for
Cook County, 1 June 1924
    T HE LARGE BLACK CAR MADE its way slowly down Greenwood Avenue, halting occasionally and then again moving forward. Greenwood Avenue lay in the heart of Kenwood, one of Chicago’s most exclusive residential neighborhoods, and at that time of the day—two-thirty on a Thursday afternoon—the street was deserted; nobody observed the car as it slowly passed between the large mansions on either side.
    The car finally stopped in front of 4754 Greenwood Avenue. Three men—evidently on an important mission—stepped out purposefully and stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking up at the house before them. It was, like all the houses on the street, a massive stone structure, three stories tall, set behind an imposing front gate.
    Frank Johnson, a police sergeant with the Detective Bureau, led the way to the front door. A maid answered the bell. Yes, Nathan Leopold was at home; he would be down shortly.
    Two minutes later the boy was at the door. They had been fortunate to find him at home: Nathan had been on his way out of the house; at three o’clock he was taking a class of schoolchildren on a birding expedition. As Johnson introduced himself, he noticed Nathan’s irritation at their presence. Nathan demanded to see their identification. The sergeant bristled at the arrogance in the boy’s voice.
    “Let me see your credentials,” Nathan asked.
    Johnson pulled his deputy’s star from his pocket: “I am a police officer,” he explained, “and they want you at the State’s Attorney’s office.” As the boy turned to get his jacket, Johnson dropped a hint about the purpose of his visit.
    “By the way…do you wear glasses?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you lose your glasses?”
    “No.”
    “Have you got them?”
    “They are around here someplace.”
    Johnson realized—too late—that it may have been a mistake to mention the eyeglasses to Nathan. He had thought to save time and have the boy bring along his glasses, but he could not allow Nathan to hunt through the house looking for them—the state’s attorney would be annoyed if they were delayed.
    “Well, we have to go down to the State’s Attorney’s office.”
    “I have got an appointment to teach a class about three o’clock.”
    “Well, you will have to postpone that appointment.”
    “Can’t you postpone this until some other time?”
    “No, you have got to go down now.” 2
    Nathan disappeared into the house, leaving Johnson waiting on the doorstep. He reappeared with his eldest brother, Michael, and they joined the three detectives—Frank Johnson, William Crot, and James Gortland—for the ride to the Loop.
    In fact, Robert Crowe had requested that Nathan Leopold come to the Hotel LaSalle, a luxury hotel in the downtown business district. Crowe was being cautious; although his men had traced the eyeglasses found at the culvert back to Nathan, he had no reason to believe that the boy was involved in the murder of Bobby Franks and he had little desire to enmesh the Leopold family in the investigation. Media publicity had already confounded the detective work; if Nathan Leopold suddenly appeared at the Criminal Court Building, the newspapers might trumpet the boy as a suspect. Crowe merely wished to hear from Nathan Leopold an explanation for the presence of his eyeglasses near the corpse.
    Nathan arrived at the Hotel LaSalle within the hour. Crowe was brisk; he was sure that this matter could be quickly cleared up. To a question about the eyeglasses, Nathan replied that he had possessed a pair of reading glasses for several months; they were, Nathan continued, at his home in the pocket of one of his suits. If it would give the state’s attorney peace of mind, he would gladly drive back to Kenwood and retrieve them.