The Great Taxicab Robbery 6

The Great Taxicab Robbery 6

Montani Goes Free_

 

On Monday, too, Montani was arraigned in court, and discharged for what

appeared to be lack of any evidence against him.

 

At this point the Commissioner took the liberty of fooling the newspaper

men for the good of his case.

 

Newspaper criticism for three days had been particularly severe. Editors

made many charges, and were fertile in suggestions as what ought to be

done to reorganize the presumably “demoralized” police department. The

present writer feels confident, however, that a careful search of the

files for those days will disclose hardly any suggestions likely to be

at all helpful to public servants in the discharge of duty. Many

questions with no real bearing on the case had been brought up by the

journalists, and the Commissioner, who was patient in answering the

newspaper men, began to be a little tired.

 

On Sunday night his big office was filled with reporters. They sat about

everywhere. He had admitted them because he wanted them to see that he

was working. From time to time they quizzed him in this fashion:

 

“Is it true that you and Commissioner Waldo have quarrelled?”

 

“Is Waldo going to resign?”

 

“Do you favor the Sullivan law against pistols?”

 

“Will the ‘dead line’ be maintained now?”

 

“Hadn’t the daily ‘line up’ of criminals ought to be restored so that

detectives will know crooks when they see them?”

 

“Hasn’t Mayor Gaynor tied the hands of the police?”

 

And so forth, and so forth, and so forth.

 

Suddenly, on Sunday night, Dougherty turned and read the newspaper men a

lecture. He said that he wanted them to understand that he was no spring

chicken at his business, that he was working eighteen hours a day, and

that he knew he would show results if the people would only be patient,

and give him time. His only recommendation in the way of new laws or

reforms was for a statute that would enable the police to put known

criminals, without occupation or visible means of support, at work

mending roads. He outlined a plan which, rather strangely, did not get

any attention in the newspapers at all. His idea of dealing with idle

criminals, he said, was to have a cart, with commissary and sleeping

quarters for twelve men. As soon as twelve idle criminals with records

had been sentenced, they would pull this cart out of town themselves,

under guard, and go to work repairing roads. If that plan were adopted,

New York would not only be as free from criminals as the District of

Columbia, where a similar measure is enforced, but the roads all around

the city would be so well cared for that they could be used as

roller-skating rinks.

 

The newspapers next morning were quite certain that Commissioners Waldo

and Dougherty had quarrelled, and when the journalists went down to

report Montani’s examination in court they were decidedly partial to the

taxicab man.

 

Dougherty had told the newspaper men beforehand that he had evidence

enough to have Montani held for trial. He had made very positive

statements about this. Montani would be arraigned, he predicted, and if

discharged on one count, would be immediately arrested on something

else. If he was discharged on that, he would still be arraigned on

further charges.

 

It needs no very brilliant imagination, therefore, to picture the effect

upon the newspapers when Montani, after being arraigned on the doubtful

points in his own account of the crime, and those not too vigorously

pressed, was discharged, with comment by the court upon the flimsiness

of the police case. There was one striking discrepancy in the evidence

presented at that examination which, if pressed, should have resulted in

the holding of Montani for trial. He still insisted that he had stopped

his cab because an old man had got in front of it, but this was denied

by a witness. That point was permitted to pass by Lieutenant Riley, who

appeared for the police. Montani could have been re-arrested on charges

based upon his attempt to defraud the insurance company. But he was

permitted to go free. That course had been decided on at Police

Headquarters after some difference of opinion.

 

The newspapers were now more pessimistic than ever in their comment.

They contrasted this outcome with Dougherty’s promises that the

chauffeur would be re-arrested. It was taken as a confession of police

incompetency and bewilderment—which, as will be seen in its proper

place, was very useful in its way. Montani went free, and was jubilant,

calling on the Commissioner next morning to thank him. But from the

moment he left court until he was arrested again the Italian chauffeur

never got out of sight of the Police Department.

 

 

_What Developed on a Busy Tuesday_

 

It was on the day after Montani’s release that Commissioner Dougherty

began to uncover more interesting characters in the taxicab drama.

 

Bit by bit, through points supplied by informants and persons who had

come in contact with him in various ways, a very good working knowledge

of the fugitive Kinsman was pieced together. It appeared that he had

come to New York the previous summer, from Boston, and after a brief

career as a boxer, had gone to work in a Sixth avenue resort known as

the “Nutshell Café,” where he was a waiter. Among his associates there

had been two characters who invited further inquiry.

 

The first of these was a fellow called “Gene,” described as having a

“parrot nose,” and a criminal record. He had been a close pal of

Kinsman, and had also introduced another intimate, a wily little Italian

called “Jess,” who had formerly owned a thieves’ resort which he called

the “Arch Café.” A good description of Jess was secured.

 

There was some delay while the Commissioner “surrounded” this

last-mentioned resort to find out if it was a place where any

information might be obtained openly. The question was decided in the

negative. So a plain-clothes man was quietly “planted” there to pick up

information.

 

When a criminal is arrested (or “falls”) it is customary in the

underworld to raise a fund for his defense. The Arch Café was a center

for the deposit of such “fall money.” It was learned that a hundred

dollars had been raised for the defense of a man named Clarke, alias

“Molloy,” under arrest in Brooklyn for robbery. This was the same Molloy

to whose fine character Kinsman had asked his landlady to swear in

court. The Italian named Jess had taken charge of Molloy’s defense fund,

but squandered it in a spree. Later, making it good, he had sent it over

to Molloy’s relief by Kinsman’s pal, “Dutch,” and an Italian known as

“Matteo.”

 

District inspectors of police were then called upon to find a detective

who knew Jess, and an Italian plain-clothes man, Antony Grieco, who had

grown up in that part of New York where Jess had kept a café, and who

knew the latter well, was detailed with another detective to look him up

and keep him under surveillance. They found that Jess, whose last name

was Albrazzo, had headquarters in a tough resort in Thompson street,

kept by an Italian named James Pasqualle, better known as “Jimmie the

Push.” From that time Jess was kept “on tap,” to await further

developments.

 

Then the Commissioner undertook to find out more about the character

called “Gene.” Working in New York, as waiters and bartenders, were many

members of a criminal band known as the “Forty Thieves of Boston.” The

Commissioner called in all of them that he could find, and sounded each

for information about this “Gene.” After the time of day had been

passed, the talk would turn on members of the band and criminals in

general, and after curiosity had been excited, “Gene” would be referred

to casually. If the party interviewed said he knew “Gene,” the

Commissioner would probably be sceptical, ask his last name, press for

details of appearance and habits, and then pass to some other subject.

 

It was found that “Gene’s” last name was Splaine, that he had served a

term in prison in Boston as a boy, and that, by his general description,

he must be the third fugitive accompanying Kinsman and Annie. When

Detective Watson got better descriptions of the third man at Albany, and

comparisons were made with sources of information in New York, it became

practically certain that Gene Splaine was with Kinsman.

 

 

_Annie Shows at “Plant 21”_

 

It was on this day, too (Tuesday, February 20), that “Swede Annie”

suddenly stepped into police view, _wearing a new hat_. She turned up

quietly at the house where Myrtle Horn had moved with her trunk, and

began living in the front basement room. Matron Goodwin and “Plant 21”

immediately reported her presence, and from that time the shadow men

across the street had something to do besides driving nails. For

whenever Annie or Myrtle went out of the house they were followed.

 

Shadowing is a highly interesting kind of police work, at which some men

have exceptional ability.

 

The general conception is that of a detective following closely behind

the suspected person, with his eyes glued to him, and cautiously

crouching behind lamp-posts and trees when the victim turns suddenly.

But that is far from the real thing. The work is done in ways altogether

different. Shadow men operate in pairs, as a rule, and keep track of

their party from vantage points not likely to be suspected. They dress

according to the character of the case, always in quiet clothes, changed

daily, and with absolutely no colors that will attract attention or lead

to recognition through the memory. They know how to follow when the

person under surveillance rides in cabs, cars or trains, to cover the

different exits from a building into which he or she may have gone, and

to loiter several hours around a given neighborhood, if need be, without

attracting the attention of honest citizens.

 

This work is done by shifts. The operators relieve each other almost as

regularly as office employees, no matter how far the trail may have

taken them. They are in constant touch with headquarters for the purpose

of making reports and receiving instructions.