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

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    Back at the Leopold home, Nathan made a show of searching his bedroom for his eyeglasses, but he now knew that the state’s attorney had one piece of evidence linking him to the murder of Bobby Franks. He soon abandoned the search; his eyeglass case stood on top of the bureau next to his bed, but the eyeglasses were missing. Nathan slipped the case into his coat pocket and went downstairs. 4
    Robert Crowe now had reason to hold Nathan Leopold; his questioning of the boy was no longer casual. Later that evening the police searched Nathan’s bedroom and study. They turned up two items; neither connected Nathan to the murder, but both the gun—a Remington .32-caliber automatic repeater—and a letter from Nathan to a second boy, Richard Loeb, were unusual and unexpected.
    Nathan had already told the detectives that he carried a shotgun on his birding expeditions, but the Remington was a handgun; it could not easily be used to shoot small birds at long distances. It was, moreover, an illegal firearm—Nathan had never applied for a permit for it. 5
    The letter to Richard Loeb was also a puzzle. As Crowe read it over in his office, he could discern that the two boys had quarreled: Nathan accused Richard of treachery and threatened to kill him but then wrote of his desire to continue their friendship. The letter was alternately haughty and pleading, aggressive and submissive; Nathan was angry with Richard yet desperate that they remain friends. If Richard were to break off their friendship, Nathan concluded, “extreme care must be used. The motif of a falling out of cocksuckers would be sure to be popular, which is patently undesirable, and forms an unknown but unavoidable bond between us.” 6
    There was no clue in the letter as to why Nathan and Richard had squabbled; nevertheless it was evident that the boys were lovers who had had a tiff. Perhaps they were part of a homosexual set at the University of Chicago and Nathan was anxious that Richard not publicly abandon and humiliate him in front of their friends.
    Robert Crowe decided to move Nathan from the Hotel LaSalle to the Criminal Court Building. And he now also wanted to talk to Richard Loeb. Most probably the second boy—also the son of a wealthy and influential Chicago businessman—knew nothing of the murder, but Crowe could use Richard to draw out information about Nathan. Crowe had experience with this form of blackmail: one hint that he would reveal Richard’s homosexual secrets, and the boy would sing like the proverbial canary.

    I T WAS NOW ONE O’CLOCK in the morning on Friday, 30 May. Crowe had held Nathan Leopold through Thursday evening but he still had no firm evidence that Leopold was connected to the killing of Bobby Franks. Yet he couldn’t simply release the boy—the gun, the eyeglasses, and the homosexual relationship with Loeb all pointed an accusing finger.
    Nathan Leopold sat in a chair before him in his office; the assistant state’s attorneys, Joseph Savage and Milton Smith, sat slightly to one side, also facing the boy; the stenographer, Elbert Allen, had already begun taking down their conversation in shorthand.
    The English teacher at the Harvard School, Mott Kirk Mitchell, was still the most likely suspect. What could Nathan tell them about Mitchell? Nathan had been a pupil at the Harvard School—was there anything to suggest that his former teacher was a homosexual?
    “Have you ever heard any stories about Mitchell being queer?”
    “Not definitely, no,” Nathan replied.
    “Well, rumors?”
    “I have heard some wild rumors, yes.”
    “By queer, you mean what?”
    “I mean sexually perverted.”
    “And for how long a time have these rumors been floating around, to your knowledge?”
    “Ever since I can remember, almost.”
    “You have no knowledge as to whether or not the rumors are true?”
    “No, sir.” 7
    Clearly there was not much mileage to be gained from this line of inquiry; Nathan could not tell Crowe anything he