quarters and pried the jewels from their settings. They decided it
would be much easier to smuggle the loose jewels into the United States
rather than leave them in their settings.
Why they thought they could escape undetected with one of the great
treasures of Europe remains a mystery. It was a monstrous game of
“losers weepers, finders keepers.” In their greed they began to look
upon the Hesse jewels as legitimate loot. Because they were on the
winning team in the war, they reasoned they were entitled to share in
the spoils. If their share happened to be a fortune in gems, then that
was merely their good luck.
Colonel Durant casually made inquiries among his fellow officers about
the customs procedures in the United States and whether or not the
inspectors of military personnel were very thorough in going through
luggage.
One officer who had returned from a recent trip home said, “There’s no
sweat. The inspectors clear you as fast as they can. They didn’t even
look into my baggage. I guess they figure a guy who has been fighting a
war should not be delayed in getting home.”
Durant persuaded a former secretary to carry home for him several
pieces of the jewelry. She innocently believed they were nothing more
valuable than costume jewelry which he had picked up in Europe.
Captain Nash turned over her share of the loot to Major Watson, who
packed it in an ordinary wooden box and then mailed it to her in care
of her sister, Mrs. Eileen Lonergan, in Hudson, Wisconsin. The box
arrived in New York along with several thousands of other shipments
from Europe. A Customs examiner accepted the statement on the box that
it contained only personal belongings and nothing of dutiable value.
And so the box went on its way to the house in Wisconsin.
Colonel Durant arrived at Westover Field by plane on March 12, 1946,
aboard ATC Flight 9076, which had originated in Paris. He wrote on his
customs declaration that he carried one watch worth $60, perfume worth
$83, a $2.50 purse, and two cigarette lighters worth $17. He stated he
had no other articles on which he should pay duty.
No one questioned the colonel’s declaration and within a short time he
was on his way to Washington, D. C., to visit his brother, James E.
Durant, who lived in Falls Church, Virginia.
Colonel Durant showed his brother a good many of the unset stones and
articles which he had brought back from overseas, and his brother
helped him remove several diamonds from two tubes of shaving cream.
Durant explained that while travelling to Italy a German had sold him
more than one hundred diamonds for 3,000 German marks.
Durant gave one of the diamonds to a Washington, D. C., automobile
dealer--a diamond appraised at $500--as part payment for a Hudson
automobile. Another automobile dealer in Falls Church, Virginia,
purchased two of the diamonds for $400, and Durant--using the assumed
name of J. W. Gable--disposed of three of the diamonds to a jewelry
firm in Washington for $357. Then he drove to Chicago to meet Kathleen
Nash.
A few days after arriving in Chicago, Colonel Durant put in a call
for his friend, Dr. Reuben Mark, at the Embassy Hotel. Dr. Mark was a
dentist who had struck up a friendship with Durant a few years earlier
in Washington, D. C. As Dr. Mark related the story of their meeting
later:
“It was around April of this year. One evening he called and he said,
‘Ruby, this is Jack.’ I said, ‘When did you get in?’ He said, ‘Just
today.’ I asked him how long he was going to be in town and he said he
did not know. He was on thirty days leave and he had already spent a
few days.
“Then he asked when we would get together. That was on Saturday night.
He said something about a girl friend of his coming in from the coast.
He said it was a girl that had been overseas with him and she was a
divorcee. He said she was pretty and had been married to a wealthy man
in Arizona and had just joined the WACs to get away.
“We arranged to meet in a day or so. A couple of days later we met
after office hours at Isbell’s restaurant on Diversey. That was the
night I first met his girl. Katy, as I began to call her, was a nice
girl. Nothing unusual.
“It was there that Jack asked me, ‘Ruby, do you know any jewelers?’ I
said, ‘Sure, I know some jewelers.’ Just about that time he pulled out
a tissue paper. He opened it up and I saw three stones. I asked, ‘Where
did you get them?’ He said he picked them up overseas in Frankfurt.
“At that time nothing occurred to me about anything being wrong. I
know lots of boys who brought things from overseas and I felt, well, so
what, he was overseas. I said, ‘Yes, I know some jewelers.’ And he said
he would like to call them. I told him I would call the following day.
“I called a Mr. Horwitz, whom I had known for some time, and I asked if
he was interested in buying some diamonds. He said yes....”
Dr. Mark accompanied Durant to the jeweler’s place of business and
introduced him. Durant took a small cloth sack from his pocket and when
he upended it, a shower of diamonds cascaded onto the desk. There were
102 stones in the lot.
Horwitz looked at the stones under a magnifying glass, examining each
of them carefully. Finally he said, “These are fine stones, Colonel. We
don’t see diamonds like these very often. They’re beautifully cut.”
Durant explained he had been able to get them at a bargain price from a
German badly in need of cash. “How much do you figure they are worth?”
he asked.
“I’ll pay you $125 a carat,” Horwitz said. “It’s a fair price.”
“That’s okay,” Durant said. “But there’s just one thing. The deal can’t
be made in my name. I’m in the Army and I’m not supposed to transact
any outside business. It will have to be a cash transaction.”
Horwitz shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We only make purchases
by check. In buying outside the regular channels I would have to call
the police to make certain there is no violation of regulations.”
“That’s all right,” Durant said quickly. “Go ahead and call.”
Horwitz made a telephone call and then said, “The police say there’s
nothing wrong with making a purchase from an Army man who has returned
from overseas--provided the customs duty has been paid. Has the duty
been paid on these stones?”
“I mailed them into the country,” Durant said. “All the boys were
mailing stuff back and I did too.” Then Durant added, “But, look, I’m
not here for business particularly. I’m going to take a trip to Mexico.
If it’s only a question of duty, I’ll stop off someplace and take care
of the duty part of it and I’ll see you when I get back.”
Horwitz then said to Mark, “Why don’t we make out the check in your
name, Doctor? You can cash it and give the money to the colonel.”
Mark hesitated. “I suppose the check could be made out to me on a
tentative basis,” he said. “But I’ll have to call my auditors and see
that I don’t get fouled up with them.”
Horwitz had his secretary draw a check for the purchase of the
diamonds. When Durant and the doctor had left his office, he called his
lawyer. He explained the situation and asked his advice.
“There’s nothing wrong about buying diamonds from a member of the armed
forces,” the lawyer said, “but you’d better be certain the diamonds
were declared and duty paid on them when they were brought into the
country. If they were not declared, it is not a proper transaction and
I’d advise you to stop payment on the check.”
Horwitz immediately called his bank and stopped payment on the check.
The following morning he called Dr. Mark and advised him of what he
had done on the advice of his attorney. “I can’t go through with the
transaction,” he said, “unless the colonel will produce a customs
receipt showing the diamonds were declared and the duty was satisfied.”
Mark and Durant returned to Horwitz’s place of business to retrieve the
diamonds and to hand back the check.
Horwitz suggested, “Why don’t you go to see Mr. Meiners at the customs
house? He’s assistant collector of customs and he could clear this
thing up for you. I’d even be willing to pay half of the duty.”
Durant mumbled something about having to hurry to the airport to make
a flight. He said he would be back in Chicago in about ten days and he
certainly would go and see Mr. Meiners at the first opportunity.
After the collapse of this deal, Durant and Captain Nash left Chicago
by automobile for a vacation in the Southwest and Mexico. But even as
they were leaving Chicago, Federal agents were on their trail.
The theft of the gems had been discovered by the Countess Margarethe
in Germany. She had gone to the basement to check on the safety of the
jewels. She had found the hole in the basement floor. The conspirators
had not even refilled the hole or re-covered it with concrete. The
theft was reported to Army authorities and the matter was turned over
to the Army’s criminal investigation division.
The Army’s agents began questioning everyone who had been employed in
any capacity at Kronberg Castle. Finally they came to the old janitor
who told them of digging up the boxes in the basement coal room. He
didn’t know what was in the boxes. He only knew they had been taken to
Captain Nash’s quarters. He had never heard any mention of them again.
Customs agents were called in to help with the case. They traced
Captain Nash’s movements from the time of her arrival in New York
until she left Chicago accompanied by Colonel Durant. They learned of
Durant’s visit with Dr. Mark to the jeweler, Horwitz, and the collapse
of the diamond deal--because the customs duties had not been paid on
the gems. But no one knew the destination of the couple when they left
Chicago.
Through calls to friends and relatives, Dr. Mark located Durant
in Texas--and advised him he was wanted by the Customs people for
questioning. On April 19, 1946, Durant appeared at the office of the
Supervising Customs Agent in Chicago with the air of an innocent man
who was shocked that anyone should question his integrity.
“You did bring diamonds into the country without declaring them and
without paying duty on them, didn’t you, Colonel?” an agent asked.
“Yes,” Durant said, “but I was doing only what everybody else in the
armed services was doing. I didn’t know a declaration was required.”
“Where did you get the diamonds?”
“I bought them from a German civilian. I gave him my Elgin wrist watch
and 3,000 German marks.”
The agent said, “How did you get them into the country?”
“I put them in a cigar box and mailed the box to myself in care of my
brother in Falls Church,” Durant replied.
“Where are the diamonds now?”
Durant reached into his pocket and pulled out the sack of diamonds.
“There they are,” he said, tossing the sack onto the desk. “That’s all
of them.”
“We’re going to have to hold these diamonds until our investigation is
completed, Colonel,” an agent said. “But of course you have the right
under law to petition for a return of the diamonds and for remission or
mitigation of any penalties.”
“I certainly do want to petition for their return,” Durant said angrily.
He was handed a blank petition. And he wrote: “I am the sole owner of
said diamonds.... At the time I mailed these diamonds into the United
States I assumed that it was not necessary for me to declare them to
any governmental agency.... At no time did I intend to import into the
United States and thereafter make any disposition of said diamonds in
violation of any statute of the United States.... Therefore, I petition
for (their return)....”
Immediately after this meeting with Customs agents, Durant and Captain
Nash drove from Chicago to Washington, D. C. Durant hurried to the home
of his brother in Falls Church. After nightfall, the brothers drove to
a spot on a country road halfway between Lee Highway and Route 50.
They parked the car and walked into a woods to a large oak tree. At the
base of the tree, Durant buried an ink bottle which contained fifty
small diamonds and two large emerald-cut diamonds--together with a roll
of gold wire which weighed 8 ounces.
“For God’s sake, don’t forget where we buried this stuff,” Durant said
to his brother. And then the two returned to the car and headed back to
Falls Church. A few days later, Colonel Durant began his terminal leave
prior to being mustered out of the armed services.
Less than a month later, on May 18, Colonel Durant drove into
Washington accompanied by Kathleen Nash. They went to a hotel and that
night Durant again visited his brother James in Falls Church. Again the
brothers drove to the woods on Lee Highway, where they walked to the
big oak tree. Durant took a large jar from a leather handbag and buried
it at the base of the tree. The jar contained loose amethysts and white
envelopes which Durant told his brother contained loose diamonds.
As they drove from the woods, Durant said, “Don’t forget where we
buried the jars. There’s enough in them to set us up for life. If
anything happens, I want you to have what’s there.” The next day,
Durant and Captain Nash left Washington and headed for Chicago.
Now the net was tightening and Durant sensed it. He had heard the
disturbing news in Washington that his terminal leave might be
cancelled--and this could mean only one thing: the Army didn’t want to
lose its hold on him. Then he and Kathleen learned that she, too, might
have difficulty in getting out of the Army.
Two weeks after burying the large jar in the woods, Durant telephoned
his brother from Chicago.
“Listen, Jim,” he said. “Go to the big tree and get the large glass
jar. Bring it to me in Chicago. It’s urgent.”
James Durant went to the woods and searched for the tree. But this
night they all looked alike. He called his brother. “I can’t find it,”
he said. “I can’t even find the tree.”
Jack Durant cursed softly. “I’ve got to have that jar,” he said. “I’ll
have to get it myself.”
Durant caught a late plane from Chicago, arriving at the Washington
International Airport at 4 A.M. He took a taxi to his brother’s home,
awakened him, and they drove to the woods, where the colonel walked
unerringly to the tree and unearthed the jar. Then he returned to the
airport and bought a ticket for the 8 A.M. flight to Chicago. But
before he left, he gave his brother two small packages containing
$28,000 in cash--with instructions to place the money in a sealed jar
and bury it at a place he wouldn’t forget. The brother buried the money
that same afternoon.
During this frantic activity, the War Department cancelled the
unexpired part of the colonel’s terminal leave and ordered him back on
active duty. Similar orders went forth for Kathleen Nash.
It was after they received these orders that Colonel Durant and Captain
Nash were married. Some cynics suggested later that the colonel married
her because once the marriage vows were said, she could not be made to
testify against him. But there was nothing in the record to indicate
that the two were not in love and had not planned marriage all along.
Early in June, Army and Customs agents began questioning the couple in
Chicago. For several days Durant maintained a stubborn silence, but
finally he broke. He told of the gems and the money hidden near Falls
Church--and he took full responsibility, clearing his brother of any
complicity.
Agents found the hiding place in the woods. They dug up the money
and the gems--but these were only a part of the treasure taken from
Kronberg Castle. Durant was pressed to tell what had happened to the
other gems.
“The situation is complicated,” he parried. “I might be able to get the
stuff back if you will let me make some telephone calls--in private.”
Durant was permitted to make the calls. After each call he made excuses
and talked vaguely of “complications.” He refused to disclose with whom
he had talked.
On Friday, June 7, the agents permitted Durant to see his bride alone.
What they discussed no one except themselves ever knew. When Durant
came from this meeting he told the agents, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been
trying to get the jewels. I’ve been stalling for time. But now I’ll try
to get them for you.”
“Where are the jewels,” he was asked.
“They are in the hands of a fence. I think I can get them--but it will
take some more telephoning. This time I’m not fooling.” He continued to
insist that the calls had to be unmonitored.
Durant was permitted to make telephone calls from a public pay
station--and to wait for a return call. The return call came within
a few minutes, and when he had hung up the receiver, Durant said,
“Everything looks all right. I think we can get the stuff this evening.”
That evening the colonel’s mysterious contact called for him at the
pay station. This time Durant said, “We can get the jewels any time we
wish. They’re at the Illinois Railroad Station.”
Two agents accompanied Durant to the station. He walked to an electric
wall fixture near the luggage lockers, reached up, and removed a key
from the fixture. He opened a nearby locker and removed a package which
he handed over to the agents. The package contained a large number of
emeralds, sapphires, pearls, rubies and other stones.
Durant counted the gems carefully and then exclaimed, “Some of the
stuff is missing. Let me make another telephone call.” Again he called
his contact and this time he reported, “We can’t get the stuff until
Monday.”
On the following Monday, June 10, Durant again called his unknown
contact. This time he told agents the remainder of the jewels were
checked at the North Western Railroad and the claim check was hidden
in a telephone booth across from the parcel room.
When Durant and the agents reached the station, Durant searched the
telephone booths without finding a claim check. “It doesn’t matter,”
Durant said. “I got the number of the check in case anything should go
wrong. It’s number 110.”
But there was no parcel numbered 110 at the North Western Station.
Durant hurried to a phone booth and placed another call to his contact
man. When he completed the call, he said, “I misunderstood the
instructions. We should have gone to the LaSalle Street Station.”
At the LaSalle Street Station, Durant went to the sixth telephone booth
and took from behind the instrument panel a slip of paper. He read it
and handed it over to the agents. On the paper was a handwritten note
which said: “Too bad. My hat knocked your ticket off. Guess I have a
right to keep the baggage.”
An inquiry at the check room disclosed that a parcel had been left
there the day before under the number 110--but it had been removed that
morning by a man who had presented the proper claim check.
“I don’t remember what the guy looked like,” the attendant said. “I
didn’t pay any attention. All I know is the guy had the right check and
I gave him the package.”
At this point, Durant refused any further cooperation. He insisted that
his mysterious contact had nothing to do with the missing jewels--and
he refused to disclose the name of the contact or to make any further
effort to locate the jewels.
The investigators had better luck with Kathleen Nash Durant. She
admitted to officers the agreement in Germany between herself, Colonel
Durant and Major Watson. She told of removing the numerous stones from
their settings and sending a large number of them to her sister’s
home in Wisconsin, concealed in boxes. Her sister was instructed not
to release the boxes to anyone unless she heard or read the code word
“Cemetery.” She turned over to Army officers the following note:
June 3, 1946
To Eileen, Jack, or David,
I have confessed to having the box of jewels, Bibles and fan that I
hid in the attic. Will you please give same to officer presenting
you this note, Major John D. Salb, our code “cemetery”--goes--sorry
to cause you so much grief and I don’t deserve you to worry over
me anymore.
Love,
_Vonie_ (_Kathleen B. Durant_)
When agents flew to Hudson, Wisconsin, and presented the note to Mrs.
Lonergan, she readily turned over the boxes hidden in the attic.
Kathleen Nash Durant and her husband were sentenced by a military court
martial to fifteen years in prison. Major Watson was sentenced to three
years for his smaller role in the conspiracy.
Most all the jewels of the Hesse treasury found in old Kronberg Castle
were returned to their rightful owners. But some of the priceless
pieces still are missing. The settings--many of them fashioned by
Europe’s greatest artisans--were lost forever. They had been cut to
pieces and melted into gold wire.
16
THE CHISELERS
Chiselers are constantly seeking ways to avoid paying customs duties.
And the female of the species is just as clever and persistent as
the male--or, as is more often the case, just as dumb. In the early
1930s, the chiselers found it extremely profitable to smuggle watch
movements into the United States from Switzerland. Smuggling reached
such proportions that it helped to virtually destroy the American watch
industry. The situation became so grave that the Federal government
appealed to the Swiss government to cooperate in a program to control
the illegal traffic in watch parts. An agreement finally was reached
on a treaty whereby the Swiss devised a system of numbering the
watch parts and assigning code numbers to importers as a means of
discouraging illegal imports.
The treaty helped to wipe out much of the commercial smuggling of watch
parts. Despite these efforts the traffic continued through the years
to be a profitable venture for smuggling gangs who often persuaded
housewives, businessmen, and tourists to act as carriers.
Mrs. Elizabeth Schmidbauer, the plump, middle-aged wife of a restaurant
owner in Munich, Germany, was one of those who became a dupe for a
watch smuggling gang in 1954. And her trip to the United States to
visit a relative--a trip for which she had planned so eagerly and for
so long--became a nightmare for her and her family.
The nightmare began in Munich when Mrs. Schmidbauer told friends at her
husband’s restaurant that she was going to America with an aunt, Mrs.
Anna Obermaier, who was then visiting in Germany. She talked of the
clothes she would need and her intention of buying two new suitcases
for the trip. Among those in the restaurant who listened with interest
to Mrs. Schmidbauer’s excited chatter was a regular customer named
Moritz, with whom the Schmidbauers had been on friendly terms for many
years.
Two days before her departure from Munich, Mrs. Schmidbauer answered
a knock at her door and found that the caller was Moritz, who was
carrying two new suitcases. “I heard you say you needed luggage for
your trip,” he said, “and here it is.”
Mrs. Schmidbauer invited Moritz into the living room. Over coffee and
cakes he told her that he was willing to pay her fare to the United
States if she would do him a favor: deliver the suitcases to a friend
in New York along with a small parcel.
“What is in the parcel?” Mrs. Schmidbauer asked.
“Watch movements,” Mortiz said. “If you will take them through customs
it will save quite a bit of money. I am ready to pay your fare to the
United States if you will do this favor for me.”
“But what about the police and the American Customs?” Mrs. Schmidbauer
exclaimed. “I may get into trouble if I do this thing.”
“Nonsense,” Mortiz said. “Nothing can happen to you. All you have to do
is sew the watch parts into your corset and no one will be the wiser.”
The lure of free passage to the United States was too great a
temptation. Mrs. Schmidbauer agreed to the scheme. That night she
obtained strips of cloth and sewed most of the watch movements into her
corset. The others she placed in her large handbag.
Mrs. Schmidbauer felt that Moritz was telling the truth when he said
that she would have no difficulty. If he thought there would be any
trouble, then he would not take such a risk himself.
The plan was very simple. When she arrived in New York and was safely
through customs, she was to send a cable to her husband saying, “Gut
angekommen,” indicating that all was well. Mortiz would keep in touch
with her husband. After the receipt of the message, he would cable his
friend in New York and instruct him to pick up the suitcases and the
watch movements. Once the delivery was made, then she would receive
payment for her fare to New York.
Mrs. Schmidbauer left Munich with her aunt, Mrs. Obermaier, and
travelled to Southhampton, England, where she boarded the SS _Queen
Elizabeth_ for the Atlantic crossing. The big liner reached New York
harbor on December 14, 1954, and docked at Pier 90 on the North River
at 8:15 A.M.