BEHIND THE SCENES AT A $3,000,000 BURGLARY--THE ROBBERY OF THE
MANHATTAN BANK OF NEW YORK
Of course, crimes, like business operations, are sometimes big and
sometimes small. They vary in importance from the pickpocket's capture
of an empty pocketbook to the robbery of a big bank. I will tell
you the secrets of the greatest bank robbery in the history of the
world--the robbery of $2,758,700 from the vaults of the Manhattan Bank
in New York, on the corner of Broadway and Bleecker Street, several
years ago.
Every man in that remarkable gang of bank burglars was an associate
of mine--I knew them, knew their wives, was in partnership with them.
It was an extraordinary enterprise, carefully considered, thoroughly
planned, and ably executed; and it yielded nearly $3,000,000 in stolen
securities and money. There has never been a bank robbery of such
magnitude, either before or since. It was complicated by the difficulty
of disposing of the great bundles of valuable bonds, many of which I
had to look after.
In my long and varied experiences in the underworld I have never been
associated with an enterprise so remarkable in so many different ways
as the Manhattan Bank robbery. There were altogether twelve men in this
robbery, and every single one of them, with the exception of one, got
into trouble through it--one, in fact, was murdered. And here, then, in
the biggest, richest robbery of modern times, we learn the lesson that
even in a $3,000,000 robbery CRIME DOES NOT PAY!
Bank burglars, of course, are constantly casting about for promising
fields for their operations, and this great, rich Broadway bank had
long been viewed with hungry eyes by Jimmy Hope, Ned Lyons, my husband,
and other great professionals. But not only were its vaults of the
newest and strongest construction, but there was a night watchman awake
and active all night in the bank. This watchman was locked in behind
the steel gratings of the bank, and Hope and my husband could not
figure out any way to get at him and silence him.
It remained for a thief named "Big Jim" Tracy to solve the difficulty.
Now the curious part of this is that Tracy was not a bank robber
at all. Tracy was a general all-around thief, and specialized more
particularly in second-story residence burglaries and highway
robberies. Tracy was not even a mechanic and was entirely ignorant of
the way to use safe-blowers' tools. But Tracy was ambitious and decided
to surprise his acquaintances in the bank burglary line by doing a job
which would give him standing among the high-class experts.
STALKING THE WATCHMAN
Tracy had one great advantage--he had been a schoolmate of Patrick
Shevelin, one of the bank watchmen. Knowing Shevelin, he was able to
renew into intimacy his old acquaintance, and soon broached the subject
of the contemplated robbery. Shevelin was a married man, rather proud
of the trust reposed in him, and would not consent to have any part in
the scheme. If Jimmy Hope or my husband had approached the watchman he
would have exposed them to the bank officials, but he had a friendly
feeling toward Tracy. Tracy was persistent, held out pictures of a
fabulous fortune, and finally gained the watchman's consent.
[Illustration: How Jimmy Hope and Each Member of his Famous Band Played
his Part.
Jimmy Hope, the leader, had considered with minute care every possible
avenue of danger, and he placed his men on guard with the precision of
a general. Three living human beings were in the building in the rooms
over the bank--the janitor, his wife and aged mother-in-law. These were
quickly taken by surprise, bound and gagged.
John Nugent (1), with drawn pistol, stood over Werkle, the janitor;
Johnny Hope (2), the very promising burglar son of the leader, was left
in charge of Mrs. Werkle with cocked revolver, while in the next room
Eddy Goodey (3) answered for the silence of the trembling old mother.
Outside the bank was a more important work to be done. On the Broadway
front of the building the venerable Abe Coakley (4) was assigned to
duty. On the Bleecker street side George Mason (5) was on post. Just
inside the side door, to protect the line of retreat, stood Billy Keely
(6), with pistol in hand.
There still remained a delicate matter. In the early hours of the
morning it was customary for the old bewhiskered janitor, Werkle, to be
seen busy sweeping up and dusting off the desks of the bank clerks. The
policeman on post always nodded to Werkle, and if he was not on the job
as usual that morning it might arouse suspicion.
In Hope's gang was "Banjo" Pete Emerson, who had been an actor of no
mean ability. To him was assigned the job of playing the part of the
janitor. With a wig and whiskers made to imitate Werkle, and in shirt
sleeves, Emerson (7) busily dusted and re-dusted the desks, keeping
close to the street windows, where he could be seen by anybody passing
and where he could see and repeat any signals from Coakley and Mason,
who were on watch on the sidewalk. "Banjo" Pete played his part so well
that the policeman in going his rounds glanced up, saw what he was sure
was his friend Werkle dusting the desks, nodded "good morning" and
strolled on up Broadway.
Jimmy Hope reserved for himself, Ned Lyons, and Johnny Dobbs the
delicate work of blowing the steel safes and taking care of the
$3,000,000 of plunder.]
When all was agreed upon, Tracy decided to get an outfit of burglar's
tools and practice up for the job. By this time "Big Jim" was out of
money, and he ran up to Troy to pull off a job and put himself in
funds. He selected an out of town city because he didn't want any
trouble in the neighborhood of the scene of the projected bank robbery.
It was in July that Tracy, with a fellow thief, "Mush" Reilly, followed
a man named John Buckley out of a bank in Troy, where he had drawn a
considerable sum of money. Mr. Buckley got on a street car and Tracy
and Reilly crowded in and began work. They were not able to get the
man's money without disturbing him, and the result was that Buckley put
up a fight. "Big Jim" and "Mush" fought back, but were surrounded by
other passengers in the car and arrested. They were tried, convicted,
and sent to Clinton Prison for five years.
This misfortune to "Big Jim" Tracy put an end to his designs upon the
great Manhattan Bank. But the missionary work which Tracy had already
done with Shevelin, the watchman, was destined to bear fruit for
others. While "Big Jim" was serving his long sentence in Clinton Prison
for the Troy robbery, it became known somehow to Jimmy Hope that Tracy
and the watchman of the bank had arrived at an understanding. This was
very important news, and Hope at once started in to pick up the thread
which had been so suddenly broken by Tracy's mishap in Troy.
But this was not so easy to accomplish. Shevelin had confidence in his
old schoolmate Tracy, but he was afraid of strangers. Jimmy Hope was
the Napoleon of bank burglars, and he had in his gang the foremost bank
experts of the whole world. Hope found a way to make the acquaintance
of Shevelin and he tried every device to win the watchman's confidence.
But the shock of "Big Jim" Tracy's long prison sentence had thoroughly
frightened the watchman.
With great patience, Hope began a campaign to remove Shevelin's
misgivings and make him feel that with such partners he need have no
fear. One after another of Hope's great experts were introduced to
Shevelin. At dinner one day in a Third Avenue restaurant, Johnny Dobbs
was produced, and the exploits of this famous burglar were recounted.
Next was introduced George Howard, known as "Western George," and
Shevelin was told of this man's extraordinary skill on safes and
vaults. And then came George Mason and Ned Lyons, whose amazing
boldness and quickness with a revolver were already known to Shevelin.
NUGENT, THE POLICEMAN-BURGLAR
A few days later, John Nugent, an able operator and a policeman in
good standing, was presented, and a little later on Abe Coakley, the
venerable cracksman, was introduced. Finally, the famous "Banjo Pete"
Emerson and Billy Kelly and Eddie Goodey were brought to bear on the
wavering fears of the watchman.
Shevelin was finally overawed by this powerful aggregation of skill,
persistence, and audacity, and consented to join Hope's band of
operators. As I look back over that group of burglars, I am sure there
was never before gathered together on one enterprise such a galaxy of
talent. With such expert skill and such abundant experience as were
there represented and all under the able leadership of such a veteran
cracksman as Jimmy Hope, surely it was impossible that their enterprise
could fail. Shevelin finally realized this, and, as he gave his pledge
of help and loyalty, Jimmy Hope shook his hand warmly and said:
"And if we get the stuff, Patrick, your share will be just a quarter of
a million dollars. And that's more than you will ever make working as a
watchman."
Jimmy Hope now lost no time in setting about his plans for the robbery.
While Shevelin's aid was absolutely necessary, it was only a very short
step in itself toward Jimmy Hope's goal, the currency and securities
lying in separate steel safes inside the great vault. The entire system
of steel plates and locks was the latest, most completely burglar-proof
devised. It was universally supposed to be not only burglar-proof but
mob-proof. It had been demonstrated theoretically that burglars working
undisturbed could not obtain access inside of forty-eight hours.
Indeed, it was the very impregnability of the vault which helped in its
undoing.
Shevelin could give the band entrance to the building and could bring
them to the door of the great vault. But here, in plain view of the
street, it would be impossible to study out and assault the combination
lock. As the lock could not be studied inside the bank it was evident
that the problem must be solved outside.
For this task Hope employed a woman very intimately related to one of
the band. While I do not care to give her name, as she is still alive,
I may say that she was considered a very attractive woman.
Elegantly dressed she called at the bank and opened an account with
the deposit of a few hundred dollars. She made clear to everyone her
charming ignorance of banking. She was as amusing as pretty, and before
long she was talking to President Schell himself.
It was in fact the president who proudly showed her the massive steel
doors and the mighty combination lock which would guard her small
deposit. With innocent baby stare she noted the make of the lock and
its date.
Possessed of this information, Hope, who was nothing if not thorough,
proceeded to buy from the manufacturer a counterpart of the lock. As
soon as it arrived the lock was turned over to the inquiring eyes and
fingers of George Howard. Ensconced in a little house in a quiet part
of Brooklyn, "Western George" made an intimate investigation of the
lock's vitals.
Howard undoubtedly was the greatest inventive genius in locks that
ever lived, unless, perhaps, Mark Shinburn, a burglar of a similar
mechanical turn of mind. He could have made no end of money designing
burglar-proof devices, but preferred demonstrating the weakness of the
existing ones in a practical way. Hope's confidence in Howard was not
misplaced. Within a few days George told the leader he could open the
lock by the simple procedure of drilling a small hole just below it and
inserting a wire.
Hope watched Howard demonstrate on their own lock and at once planned
a prospective tour of the bank to see if the performance could be
duplicated on the lock in the Manhattan Bank. If so, they were in sight
of their goal.
While the band was waiting for a convenient occasion when Shevelin
would be on duty at the bank and could admit them safely to test
Howard's grand discovery, a great blow fell upon the whole plan. It
was the mysterious murder of Howard himself.
If, as some have suggested, the taking off of Howard was the hand of
Providence, I can only point out that the hand was a little bit slow.
If Howard had been killed two days earlier, I can't see how the band
could have gotten into the vault. Hope, with all his ingenuity and
executive ability, was no great mechanical genius on an up-to-date
lock, nor was any other member equal to the task.
Howard was on bad terms with several very forceful members of the
underworld, at least one of whom was in the dozen who were secretly
besieging the Manhattan Bank. While the gang was rejoicing and waiting,
a letter came to Howard requesting his immediate presence on important
business at a place near Brooklyn.
OPENING THE GREAT VAULT
The following week Howard's body was found in the woods of Yonkers,
with a pistol in his hand and a bullet in his breast. The suicide
theory was dispelled by finding another bullet in the back of his
head. Investigation brought to light that a wagon containing a heap of
sacking had been seen driving through the woods and had later returned
empty.
Hope and others suspected Johnny Dobbs, of the gang, of doing the
shooting, but nothing was ever proved about it.
Dobbs and Hope soon after were let in by Shevelin and they put
Howard's theory into practice. They bored a hole about the diameter of
a 22-caliber bullet just under the lock, inserted a wire, threw back
the tumblers, and had no trouble in getting into the vault.
There stood the safes and from three to six million dollars in money
and securities. But this was only a prospecting tour and the two
burglars were careful to disturb nothing. Returning, they softly closed
the huge door and, Hope manipulating the wire, threw back the tumblers.
But Hope lacked the mechanical skill and fine sense of touch possessed
by the late lamented Howard, and he pushed one of the tumblers the
wrong way. He knew he had made a mistake but was unable to correct it.
This meant that the bank employees the next morning would be unable to
open the door.
There was nothing to do but fill the hole with putty so that it would
not show from the outside and see what the morning would develop. Quite
naturally Hope assumed that the lock-tampering would be discovered
and his whole plan be ruined. The gang prepared to scatter, but as it
turned out they need not have worried.
Sure enough, in the morning the doors refused to respond to the
cashier's manipulations. The makers of the lock were sent for, and
after infinite labor the door was opened. The experts from the factory
who performed the feat were curious to see what had gone wrong with
their mechanism. It was in "apple pie" order with the exception of one
tumbler which, for no apparent reason, had moved in the wrong direction.
A TIP TO THE POLICE
Jimmy Hope's drill hole, puttied up and nicely hidden on the outside
showed black and conspicuous from the inside. The lock mechanics
observed the hole and asked the officers of the bank how the hole came
there. They all shook their heads and the subject was dropped. A portly
and prosperous looking gentleman who had been standing at the paying
teller's window after changing a one hundred dollar bill, heaved a sigh
and walked away. It was Jimmy Hope!
"Boys," he said to the band, who were all prepared to abandon the
job, "it's a shame to take that money. Those simple souls have found
our hole and it doesn't even interest them. They are worrying about a
little $20,000 loan on some doubtful security, and here we are within a
few inches of from three to six millions."
"Such faith is beautiful," said Johnny Dobbs, with mock piety, "let us
pray that it be justified."
Nevertheless the job was postponed for a year on account of information
furnished by John Nugent. Nugent, being a member of the New York
police force in good standing, was able to keep in close touch with
headquarters. He learned that the presence of a dozen of the ablest
bank burglars in the world had become known to the police. Not that
the police had discovered their presence by detective work, for this
happens only in novels or detective plays. When the "sleuth" in actual
life gets any real information it is because somebody for fear, hatred,
or reward has told him.
As I have said, there was bad feeling in the band and I think someone
interested in Howard's death gave the tip. At any rate, the band took
pains to scatter, and the various members were careful to record
themselves at different cities remote from New York. The New York
police were much relieved and promptly forgot the tip that "something
big" was to be "pulled off."
Just about a year later Shevelin, who was not by nature intended for a
crook, looked up from a drunken doze at a saloon table into the keen
eyes of Jimmy Hope. Shevelin had neither the instinctive inclination
nor the nervous system which belong to the natural criminal. The bare
fact that he was connected with the projected robbery had made a
drinking man of him.
He was in debt and in other trouble, and was genuinely pleased to open
negotiations again with the able and confidence-inspiring leader.
Everything was now in order to go on with the undertaking. There were
no dissensions in the gang, therefore the police had no inkling, the
bank was smugly confident of their steel fortress, and it only remained
to name the hour.
Hope's operations were much embarrassed by the fact that Patrick
Shevelin was only a supplementary watchman. Daniel Keely, his
brother-in-law, was the regular night watchman, and absolutely honest,
as Hope knew, both from his own investigations and from Shevelin's
assurances. Shevelin's duty was as day watchman, chiefly during banking
hours. The only time when he did not share his watch with either Keely
or the equally incorruptible janitor of the building, Louis Werkle, was
on Sunday. Therefore, the morning of a beautiful October Sabbath was
chosen.
Hope saw that the weak spot of the bank was also the vulnerable point
in his own operations, namely, the nervous and somewhat alcoholic
Shevelin. Hope decided it would be best for Shevelin to not be on duty
at the bank that Sunday, but to arrange with Werkle, the janitor, to
take his place.
THE NIGHT BEFORE
Had Shevelin been of sterner stuff, the robbers would have bound and
gagged him and left him with a carefully rehearsed tale of a plucky
fight against fearful odds to relate to his rescuers. But it was more
than probable that Shevelin would betray himself in the inevitable
ordeal of hours and hours of tiresome examination. Therefore, it seemed
best to have him at home, sick, where he could establish an unshakable
alibi and answer, "I don't know" to all questions.
Shevelin admitted the band Saturday night and concealed them in a
storeroom in an upper part of the building. There they sat crowded,
cramped, and uncomfortable through the entire night. They dared not
smoke nor even eat for fear Keely, the regular night watchman, who
occasionally poked his nose into the room during his rounds, might
notice an unaccustomed smell.
This matter of smell illustrates how carefully Jimmy Hope worked out
the minutest details of his plan. He foresaw that ten men packed
into a rather small room would, even without food or smoke, make the
atmosphere seem close to the nostrils of the watchman familiar with the
usual empty smell of the place.
For this reason Hope ordered his men to bathe before the job and wear
clean clothing without any scent whatever. No tobacco, drink, or onions
passed their lips on Saturday. As a last precaution, at Hope's order,
Shevelin broke a bottle of smelly cough medicine on the floor in the
presence of his brother-in-law.
As I have said, the regular night watchman was Keely--an honest,
incorruptible man. Shevelin was day watchman. Shevelin worked from six
in the morning until six at night, when Keely came on duty for the
night job.
The janitor of the building, who lived over the bank with his family,
was a worthy, honest man, named Werkle. Everybody trusted Werkle, and
so it had come about that Werkle was now and then made temporary day or
night watchman, whenever Shevelin or Keely were sick or wanted a day
off.
Though, as I have said, the genius of "Western George" Howard in
discovering a simple and speedy method of opening the lock by inserting
a wire through a small hole bored beneath it was the one thing which
made Hope's plans feasible, yet, at the last minute, this method became
unnecessary.
CONSULTATION IN THE DARK
As if the bank had not done enough in the way of kindness to the
burglars by ignoring their little hole, they gave Werkle, the janitor,
the numbers of the combination and keys to unlock it. Neither Keely nor
Shevelin were trusted to this extent, and Shevelin only learned of the
janitor's secret in time to tell Hope the night before the robbery.
This new information was discussed in whispers throughout the night by
the gang. Hope had misgivings about using the wire and the hole. The
fact that he had failed to return one of the tumblers to its proper
place on the previous occasion worried him. It was quite possible he
might make a wrong move and, instead of opening the door, lock it
irrevocably. In that case it was not to be hoped that the easy going
bank officials would give him a third chance.
On the other hand, forcing the janitor to surrender his keys and reveal
the combination had great disadvantages. It meant delay. He might
give the wrong set of numbers from fear or loyalty. At any rate he
was certain to hesitate. As it proved, time was worth about $100,000
a minute, and ten extra minutes would have doubled the value of the
"haul."
Shevelin went home with the understanding that Werkle, the janitor,
would take his watch in the morning, when Keely, the night watchman,
went off duty. At 10 o'clock, Werkle and his wife went to sleep
in their little bedroom above the bank, and Keely made his rounds
uneventfully. At 6 o'clock, Sunday morning, Keely waked Werkle, the
janitor, and departed by the back door. The closing of the back door
was the cue for the gang to take their places and they had no time to
lose.
Jimmy Hope and Johnny Dobbs, with Billy Kelly and Eddie Goodey, Johnny
Hope, son of Jimmy Hope, Mason, and Nugent, and my husband, Ned Lyons,
rapidly but stealthily advanced upon the janitor's bedroom. To reach
it they had to pass through another bedroom, where slept the aged and
feeble-minded mother of Mrs. Werkle.
While gagging and binding the old woman a slight amount of noise was
made. Werkle paused in his dressing and remarked that he would step in
and see what was doing.
The robbers forestalled him by entering and covering him with their
revolvers. They presented a terrifying spectacle, each man wearing
a hideous black mask. Rubber shoes on their feet made their steps
noiseless. They were received in silent horror.
The tableau was broken by a faint scream from Mrs. Werkle. Instantly
cold muzzles were placed to their temples and instant death threatened
in return for the slightest sound. Werkle's keys and the combination of
the lock were demanded.
Poor Werkle attempted to delay complying, but a few savage prods in
his ear with the point of Hope's gun scattered the last thought of
resistance. He delivered the keys and told them the combination.
Hope had decided at the last moment that as long as he had to tackle
the janitor he might as well make him surrender the combination, if
possible, and save the trouble and uncertainty of working with the wire
and the hole which the bank had obligingly neglected to repair.
Werkle volunteered the objection that the combination numbers would be
no use unless they knew how to operate them. Hope inserted a gag in the
janitor's mouth and assured him that he need not worry on that score as
he was in possession of all the information he needed.
Leaving Johnny Hope and Nugent, the policeman, with cocked pistols
watching the bound and gagged janitor and wife and the silent
and mysterious Eddy Goodey mounting guard over the helpless old
woman, Jimmy Hope and Johnny Dobbs hurried downstairs to the vault,
accompanied by Ned Lyons.
Lyons was always a desperate man, who could think and act quickly.
In emergency he was governed by instinct, which is quicker than the
quickest intellect. In time of trouble, Lyons was always a tower of
strength. He would not hesitate at murder, if necessary, and his sudden
hand would bolster up a hesitating member of the gang. For this reason
he was held in reserve and worked in the vault with Jimmy and Dobbs.
Downstairs, they found, as expected, "Banjo Pete" Emerson in overalls
and false whiskers, armed with a feather duster and made up to look
exactly like the janitor, Werkle. "Banjo Pete," as his name implies,
was a musician, in fact had been a member of a negro minstrel troupe,
and was an actor of no mean ability. It was the ability to make-up
and act which made Hope cast him for the part of counterfeit janitor.
During the entire proceeding, he walked about the front of the bank in
full view from the street, dusting the furniture and keeping an eye out
for signals from old Abe Coakley, dean of the burglars, who had the
responsible position of watching all that went on outside.
FOOLING THE PATROLMAN
A policeman was in sight of the bank during the entire activities,
and actually walked up and gazed in the window. "Banjo Pete" looked
up from his dusting and waved his hand to the policeman, who thought
he recognized his old friend Werkle, nodded "good morning," and then
passed on.
Meanwhile, Billy Kelly had taken his place just inside the back door
with a pistol and a lead pipe and seated himself on the back stairs,
while George Mason was sauntering about outside the door to give
warning and prevent interruption from that point.
All these men covered the operations of Jimmy Hope and Johnny Dobbs,
who opened the vault door with Werkle's key and combination, and fell
to work on the steel safes within. There were three, one on either side
and one in the back. With the sledge hammer and knife-edged wedges the
two burglars spread the crack of one of the safe doors wide enough to
force in the necessary explosive. Pausing only long enough to learn
from his confederates that the coast was clear, Hope touched it off.
A muffled reverberation reached the policeman across the street. He
glanced over at the bank.
"Banjo Pete" dropped his duster, crossed to the window, and peered out
as if the explosion were from outdoors somewhere, and he were mildly
wondering. The policeman resumed his reflections and the work went on.
Fifteen minutes later another muffled boom marked the blowing of the
second safe.
At this point Hope and Dobbs paused to collect the booty. It was more
than they could carry, so half a peck of bonds was passed out to the
vigilant Billy Kelly on the back stairs, as much more to the silent
Goodey, unwelcome watcher by the bedside of the feeble old woman.
With bulging eyes, Mr. and Mrs. Werkle saw a few bags of gold tossed in
to their guardians and pocketed. The gang had been growing richer at
the rate of about a hundred thousand dollars a minute for some time.
As Hope and Dobbs returned to attack the third safe, which stood in the
rear, there came a threatened interruption. George Mason, outside,
gave the signal to Billy Kelly, inside the back door, to be on guard. A
milk wagon stopped, the driver descended with a quart of milk, opened
the back door, and was about to ascend the stairs with it to deliver to
the janitor.
Billy Kelly, on guard on the stairs for just such an emergency,
politely informed him that the janitor and his family had gone away and
would need no more milk for some time. The milkman replaced the bottle
in his wagon and went on, while Hope drove home his wedges.
But now came a serious interruption, the wily old Coakley signaled that
the end of their operations had come. It was inevitable that Kohlman,
the barber, would soon open up his little shop beneath the bank. This
was what Coakley signaled to "Banjo Pete," who called the news to the
workers within the vault.
Immediately Hope, Dobbs, and Lyons laid down their tools, put on their
coats, stuffed the remainder of the undisturbed plunder inside their
clothes, and told the band to quit.
Johnny Hope and Nugent, with a last bloodthirsty threat, left the
Werkles. Eddy Goodey pocketed his revolver and joined the group
collecting around Billy Kelly on the back stairs, where "Banjo Pete"
was getting out of his overalls and pocketing his false whiskers.
George Mason gave the "get away" signal on the outside, and one by one
the gang, carrying nearly $3,000,000 in money and securities, mingled
with the crowd and vanished.
Coakley, on watch in front, stayed around and waited for further
developments.
About ten minutes later the early customers of Kohlman's barber
shop heard someone leaping down the stairs from the bank. In burst
apparently a madman, half-dressed, his hands handcuffed behind him.
THE JANITOR'S ESCAPE
A gag in his mouth added to his strange appearance. Unable to speak or
use his hands, he danced up and down and made growling sounds like a
mad dog.
The barber shop emptied itself and Kohlman was not able at once to
recognize behind the gag and the jaunty disarray of clothing his old
friend Werkle, janitor of the bank.
The gag removed, Werkle was able to blurt out the fact that the bank
had been robbed. The policeman across the street was summoned, and with
him came Coakley. They heard an amazing and somewhat incoherent tale.
The policeman, being rather young and inexperienced, listened open
mouthed and did not know what to do.
Coakley, the elderly and rather distinguished looking gentleman,
suggested that the story sounded "fishy," and the policeman ought to
investigate. He did so. The whole party entered the bank and Coakley
was able to note that no telltale clues had been left behind. He
observed with regret that, while two of the safes gaped wide open and
the third contained several wedges, it was still shut tight.
The policeman held the half-crazed Werkle prisoner and guarded the
safe while he sent Coakley to the police station to call out the
reserves. This errand Coakley neglected and, instead, looked up Jimmy
Hope, who, like most robbers, was leading a double life. He had a wife
and children in one part of the city, and in another a fashionable
apartment where he was known as Mr. Hopely, a retired capitalist, and
had quite a circle of friends, mostly prosperous business men.
From this point, luck turned against the band. The tremendous
proportions of the robbery caught everyone's imagination. The
underworld was as much excited as the police, and talk and speculation
would not die down. The neglected hole in the lock came to view again,
and it was now appreciated in its full significance.
The police recollected their tip about Hope and his gang which had
come to them at the same time as the discovery of the hole and their
suspicions began to grow against some of the real perpetrators. Still,
for many weeks, there was not an atom of evidence against any member.
Patrick Shevelin, the weak link of the chain, began to feel the
pressure.
THE WEAK SPOT
Not only was he a man lacking in the robust nerves essential to a
successful criminal, and also one who drank too much, but he was
cruelly disappointed as well. He had been led to believe that a quarter
of a million dollars in cold cash would be handed to him within a day
or two after the robbery. He was going to buy a castle in Ireland and a
few other things with the money.
Instead of all this, Hope gave him only $1,200. He explained at the
time that this was only his share of the cash stolen, and that the
balance of the quarter million would be forthcoming as soon as the
bonds and stocks had been converted into cash.
But alas for poor Shevelin. The bonds never were converted and instead
of more money, Hope brought him bad news and actually forced him to
return half of the $1,200. He told Shevelin that a bill was being
prepared at Washington to compel the issuance of duplicate securities
in place of those stolen. This would, of course, make the originals
worthless and kill the sale of them and make the robbery a financial
failure.
There was truth in Hope's plea, for the bill was actually passed, but
it is doubtful if poor Shevelin's $600 was used, as Hope promised, to
bribe Senators and Congressmen to obstruct the bill.
The horse being stolen, the bank took pains to lock the barn door.
They not only rearranged their locks and filled up the hole, but
investigated Werkle, Keely, and Shevelin. Finding that Shevelin was
drinking and frequenting disreputable places, they were about to
discharge him. But the detectives persuaded the bank to retain him for
fear discharge might excite the suspicions of the gang.
Detectives shadowed Shevelin night and day. Some of them became
acquainted with him under one guise or another. They even became
intoxicated with him. On one or two occasions he let slip remarks
that he was connected with some big secret affair. One day they saw
a bartender get a package from a drawer and hand it to Shevelin, who
opened it and took out some bills, and then returned the package. The
detective was able to see that the package contained several hundred
dollars. This was more than Shevelin, in all probability, would have
saved out of his small salary with all his bad habits.
In spite of all this they knew Shevelin was not ripe for arrest.
Finally, in a maudlin moment he conveyed the information that he had
been the means of making a great achievement possible and that he had
been treated very shabbily.
The detectives at once had the bank discharge him on some pretext
foreign to the robbery. This added to Shevelin's gloom. When, on top
of this, he was arrested, he was quite ripe to confess. That the gang
might not become suspicious, he was arrested for intoxication, taken to
court the next day, and discharged. As soon as he stepped out of the
courtroom he was rearrested, and this procedure was repeated day after
day.
Still Shevelin refused to confess until a detective, telling him how
much the authorities knew about the case, informed him that all the
gang were rich beyond measure except Shevelin.
"What a sucker you were, Pat," he concluded, "to accept a measly
$10,000."
Shevelin leaped to his feet and shouted.
"It's a lie. I never got any $10,000, so help me heaven. I never got
more than $600 for it."
"I apologize," said the detective, "you are a ten times bigger fool
than any one supposed."
Shevelin realized he made a hopelessly damaging confession and within a
few hours the police were in possession of the complete details of the
case.
THE WATCHMAN'S CONFESSION
For fear anyone should not believe the actual amount that was taken
from the bank, I refer you to the following official list of just what
we got from the Manhattan Bank as it was announced by the president of
the bank:
NOTICE
THE MANHATTAN SAVINGS INSTITUTION was, on the morning of Sunday,
October 27, robbed of securities to the amount of $2,747,700, and
$11,000 in cash, as follows:
THE STOLEN SECURITIES
United States 5's of 1881, 8 of $50,000 each, 10 of
10,000 each $500,000
United States 6's of 1881, 20 of $10,000 each 200,000
United States 10-40 bonds, 60 of 10,000 each 600,000
United States 4 per cents, 30 of $10,000 each 300,000
United States 5-20's of July, 1865; 26 of $500 each,
35 of $1,000 each 48,000
New York State sinking fund gold 6's, registered,
No. 32 32,000
New York City Central Park fund stock, certificate
No. 724 22,700
New York County Court House stock, 6 per cent. 202,000
New York City, accumulated debt, 7 per cent. bonds,
two of $100,000 each, and one of $50,000 250,000
New York City Improvement stock, 10 certificates of
$20,000 each 200,000
New York City Revenue Bond, registered 200,000
Yonkers City 7 per cent. coupon bonds, 118 of $1,000
each 118,000
Brooklyn City Water Loan coupon bonds, 25 of $1,000
each 25,000
East Chester Town coupon bonds, 50 of $1,000 each 50,000
Cash 11,000
----------
Total amount stolen $2,758,700
CHARLES F. ALFORD, Secretary.
EDWARD SCHELL, President.
If Hope had found ten minutes more time at his disposal he would have
entered the third safe, and, as it happened, come upon almost three
million more. However, as it stood, this was the greatest robbery ever
achieved, and, as things were, each man of the gang should have been
rich.
HUNTING DOWN THE GANG
Now we will see how much crime, even in the most successful case,
profited the criminals. In the first place, Tracy was in prison before
it happened. "Western George," who solved the lock, was murdered.
Patrick Shevelin, the watchman, received, instead of the quarter of a
million, actually $1,200 in cash. Within a few days Jimmy Hope took
half of this back again on the plea that it was needed at Washington to
buy off legislators who were to pass a bill through Congress ordering
the issue of duplicates in place of the stolen securities. As an actual
fact, all Shevelin ever profited from this robbery was $600.
Jimmy Hope and John D. Grady, the fence, quarreled over the disposition
of the bonds and stocks, which Hope spirited away and hid in the Middle
West. The dissension spread to other members of the gang and the
underworld began to hear details of the robbery.
Hope failed in his efforts to prevent the passage of the bill canceling
the stolen securities, and then came the final blow--the confession of
Shevelin.
Hope was caught in San Francisco, his son, Johnny Hope, was captured
in Philadelphia while trying to dispose of some of the bonds--and one
after another the gang was run down.
Considered from a technical viewpoint, this robbery was the most
Napoleonic feat ever achieved. My husband, Ned Lyons, said Hope ought
to have managed without the aid of Shevelin or, if his aid was
absolutely necessary, he should have been killed. This point of view
regarding murder is one of the distinguishing differences between my
husband and Jimmy Hope.
And thus we find that the greatest bank robbery in the history of the
world, which enlisted the time, brains, and special skill of a dozen
able men over a long period of time, resulted in failure to dispose
of the valuable securities, and landed sooner or later most of the
operators in prison. If an enterprise of such magnitude, successfully
accomplished, was not worth while, then surely CRIME DOES NOT
PAY!