For The Thrill Of It Part 2

"Yes, Peoria, Illinois."18 As the customer began writing on the card, Ward leaned over the desk to read the details. He found the application unusual. Why would a traveling salesman from Peoria want to open a checking account in Hyde Park if he knew no one in the area? Surely he would do better to open an account in one of the larger banks downtown, in the Loop? But, the cashier reflected, this was none of his business. Who was he to quarrel with a new customer? The customer, who had signed himself Morton D. Ballard, held out $100 as a deposit; Ward took the money and again reached down into his desk drawer: first for a checkbook, and then for a pa.s.sbook showing the $100 deposit.19 That was sufficient. Nathan now had a new ident.i.ty as Morton Ballard.

The same day, Richard Loeb walked into the lobby of the Morrison Hotel at Clark and Madison streets. He carried a rattan suitcase in his right hand, but it contained only books: four books that Loeb had previously borrowed from the university library. Loeb also claimed to be a traveling salesman; he, too, had come from Peoria and he also had a.s.sumed the pseudonym Morton D. Ballard.

J. B. Cravens, the clerk on duty that afternoon at the reception desk, gave the guest a key to room 1031 and waved an arrival slip at the bellboy waiting on the hop bench. The transaction took only a few minutes-the bellboy, distinctive in his cherry red uniform with green piping, jumped up from his place on the bench to show the salesman to his room before returning to the lobby.20 One hour later, Morton Ballard came down from his room to the reception desk. He was staying in Chicago only one night, he explained to Cravens, but he expected to be back in the city in a few weeks. There might be mail addressed to him at the hotel; would Cravens keep it for him for his return? Cravens nodded his a.s.sent: the guest seemed rather young to be in business-Cravens guessed that he was not much older than seventeen or eighteen-but he had an open, honest face and he seemed a trustworthy sort.

Two days later, on Friday, 9 May, at eleven o'clock in the morning, Nathan Leopold walked into the offices of the Rent-A-Car Company at 1426 Michigan Avenue. Nathan had $400 in cash in the left pocket of his jacket, and in the right pocket he carried the pa.s.sbook from the Hyde Park State Bank made out in the name of Morton Ballard.21 William Herndon, a.s.sistant manager of the Rent-A-Car Company, rose to his feet to shake hands with the young man who introduced himself as Morton Ballard, a salesman from Peoria. Ballard explained that he was in Chicago on business and needed a car to visit some clients that afternoon. He was new to the area; it was the first time he had covered the Chicago district for his company. As Ballard spoke, he produced the pa.s.sbook from the Hyde Park State Bank and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Since he was a new customer, he told Herndon, he would be willing to put down a deposit of $400 for a rental car. And if there was any question about his honesty, he continued, he could provide references: he had the telephone number of an acquaintance, Louis Mason, who could vouch for him.22 Two blocks away, Richard Loeb entered a lunchroom at 1352 Wabash Avenue. He bought a telephone slug from the counter clerk, David Barish. Richard was hungry: he paid for a box of raisins, and as he slid his finger across the top of the box to open it, he asked Barish for the nearest phone. Barish indicated the booth against the wall at the rear of the store.

"Can I wait here for a phone call?" Richard asked. "I expect to be called."

"Yes, sir."23 Richard sat and waited. He listened absentmindedly to a conversation between the clerk and some customers at the front of the store. A large man with a mustache was telling the others, in a loud, boisterous voice, about a stag party the previous evening with some fellow Masons at the Auditorium Hotel.24 Richard wondered how long he would have to wait. Nathan was at the Rent-A-Car Company now; perhaps, he speculated, the rental agency would let Nathan have a car without asking for references.

The phone rang. Richard jumped up from his stool, almost, in his haste, knocking it over.

"Is this," a man's voice demanded, "Mr. Louis Mason talking?"

"Yes," Richard replied.

The anonymous voice explained that a salesman, Morton Ballard, was in his office wanting to take out a car; would he provide a reference?

"Do you know Morton D. Ballard of Peoria?"

"Yes."

"Is he dependable?"

"Absolutely dependable."25 Their conversation was brief, almost perfunctory. The rental agency provided Morton Ballard with a car for the day. Ballard mentioned that he would return to Chicago in a few weeks and would need a car then. In that case, the clerk replied, the company would mail an identification card to his address-the Morrison Hotel? Yes, of course...that would be no trouble at all.26 They had now worked out a plan to obtain the ransom without risking capture and had created false ident.i.ties in order to obtain a rental car. Richard had thrown a package from the Boston train; it had landed near the antic.i.p.ated spot at 74th Street. And Nathan had taken out a car from the Rent-A-Car Company on Michigan Avenue, establishing himself as a reliable customer.

They did not yet know the ident.i.ty of their victim-he might be any one of a dozen boys. But the date of the kidnapping was set: Wednesday, 21 May, in the afternoon, when the pupils at the Harvard School were walking home after the end of cla.s.ses.

Nathan spent the weekend before the kidnapping at Wolf Lake, close to the marshlands in the Forest Preserve. On Sat.u.r.day, 17 May, he spent the afternoon at the lake with a school friend, George Lewis. They noticed some birds resembling sandpipers. Nathan, determined to obtain one for his collection, fired three shots at the birds as they flew across the Pennsylvania Railroad tracks that separated Hyde Lake from its neighbor, Wolf Lake, to the west. He missed and ran across the tracks in pursuit, stumbling in rubber boots that were slightly too large.27 The birds had disappeared in the reeds lining the edges of Hyde Lake. The two boys searched for them along the sh.o.r.eline, spotted them a second time, and fired at them but missed: Nathan's gun jammed and the birds made good their escape.28 He returned the following day, accompanied again by Lewis and a second friend, Sidney Stein. They parked Nathan's car by the railroad tracks, not far from a drainpipe culvert, and climbed up the incline to look out over Wolf Lake. There was no sign of the birds they had seen the previous day. The sun had already begun to dip low over the lake, casting an intense crimson glow across the horizon; soon it would be dark and time for them to start on the journey back to Chicago.29

ON T TUESDAY, 20 M 20 MAY-the day before the kidnapping-Nathan and Richard purchased the equipment for the murder. Nathan bought writing paper and envelopes for the ransom note at a stationery store at 1054 East 47th Street. Nathan had a sweet tooth; as he waited for the clerk, H. C. Stranberg, to fetch the writing pad, he bought a box of chocolate creams from Stranberg's a.s.sistant.30 Later that day, Nathan entered a drugstore at 4558 Cottage Grove Avenue. The owner, Aaron Adler, was curious that the customer-a young man with a dark, sallow complexion, wearing an expensive gray topcoat and a slouch hat-was making such an unusual purchase.

"Give me a pint of hydrochloric acid," Nathan requested, "and let me have a half pint of ether, also."

Why did he need the acid? Adler asked.

For experimental work, Nathan replied, in a science laboratory at the university.

"Yes." Adler seemed satisfied with the answer. "All right."

"I have been to several other stores, and I couldn't get it."

Nathan paused-Adler was checking his inventory list.

"Do you sell much of it?" Nathan asked.

"Not a great deal," Adler replied.

Three minutes later, the pharmacist returned from the rear of the store with two gla.s.s bottles, each not much larger than a Listerine bottle. Nathan was surprised that the acid was so inexpensive-only seventy-five cents for a pint bottle. Adler indicated the gla.s.s stopper sealed with a dark-brown wax lining to prevent spillage.

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10. THE RANSOM LETTER. THE RANSOM LETTER. Nathan Leopold typed the ransom letter on a portable Underwood typewriter on the evening of Tuesday, 20 May. Nathan Leopold typed the ransom letter on a portable Underwood typewriter on the evening of Tuesday, 20 May.

"Be sure," he cautioned Nathan, "and keep it upright, because it might leak out and burn your clothes."31 That afternoon, Richard Loeb completed their purchases, stopping at a hardware store on Cottage Grove Avenue north of 43rd Street to buy a length of rope and a sharp-edged chisel with a beveled blade and a wooden handle.32

THERE WAS ONE LAST DETAIL remaining: the ransom letter. They had not yet, of course, chosen their victim, and the letter could not, therefore, be addressed to any specific person. Better, nevertheless, to compose the letter beforehand-they could then send it as soon as they had kidnapped their victim. That evening, after dinner, in Nathan's study, they composed the letter asking for $10,000. Earlier that day, Richard had shown Nathan a recent copy of remaining: the ransom letter. They had not yet, of course, chosen their victim, and the letter could not, therefore, be addressed to any specific person. Better, nevertheless, to compose the letter beforehand-they could then send it as soon as they had kidnapped their victim. That evening, after dinner, in Nathan's study, they composed the letter asking for $10,000. Earlier that day, Richard had shown Nathan a recent copy of Detective Story Magazine Detective Story Magazine. It contained a tale about the kidnapping of a banker's wife by two ex-convicts. Perhaps, Richard suggested, they could use the ransom letters in the story as the model for their letter. Nathan agreed, and glancing occasionally at the magazine, open at page twenty-six, he began to draft the ransom letter, writing it out in longhand, pausing occasionally to read it back to Richard. Finally Nathan was done. He turned to the typewriter standing on the spinet desk by his side. It was the portable Underwood typewriter that he had stolen six months before from the Zeta Beta Tau fraternity at the University of Michigan. He fed the sheets of paper into the machine and, with Richard looking over his shoulder, typed out the demand for the ransom money. Nathan had never learned how to type, and he ponderously tapped out the letters one by one, searching out each key and striking it with his forefinger. But eventually he was done. He looked at the letter with a sense of pride-it was flawless; he could not see a single grammatical error.33 Everything was now in place for tomorrow. Nothing could go wrong. They were about to commit the perfect crime, a murder that would never be solved.

4 THE MURDERWEDNESDAY, 21 M 21 MAY 1924 1924There was quite a bit of blood; the blanket...was quite saturated with blood.1Richard Loeb, 31 May 1924 PRESTON D DARGAN HAD TAUGHT R ROMANCE LITERATURE at the University of Chicago since 1911. He was a neat and tidy man, somewhat short and small-framed; his ash-blond hair, brushed carefully toward the left, was graying slightly at the temples, but his mustache, cut in a military style, still retained its original auburn tinge. at the University of Chicago since 1911. He was a neat and tidy man, somewhat short and small-framed; his ash-blond hair, brushed carefully toward the left, was graying slightly at the temples, but his mustache, cut in a military style, still retained its original auburn tinge.2 Dargan was forty-four years old. He had found a comfortable niche at the university: his teaching duties were not unduly onerous and he had ample time for research. He had written his first book, a study of Montesquieu, as a graduate student at Johns Hopkins University, and after receiving his doctorate in 1907, Dargan had taught successively at the University of Virginia and the University of California before landing at Chicago. He had established himself as a productive scholar, publishing a series of reviews and articles on nineteenth-century French writers, and in 1922 Dargan had been the coauthor of a magisterial survey of French literature, A History of French Literature from the Earliest Times to the Great War A History of French Literature from the Earliest Times to the Great War, with the chair of the department, William Nitze.3 Dargan was looking forward to the end of the school year. His course that quarter, on nineteenth-century French literature, had been successful-he was a popular lecturer-but teaching always consumed too much of his time, and he was keen to get back to his research. Dargan had already published several works on Honore de Balzac, and he was planning a series of monographs, to be cowritten with his graduate students, on the novelist.4 On Wednesday, 21 May, Dargan's morning lecture was on the Parna.s.sians, that group of late-nineteenth-century French poets that included Rene Sully-Prudhomme and Paul Verlaine. It was a literary movement, Dargan explained to the students sitting before him, that shared many characteristics with contemporary French culture and society; it had arisen in reaction to romanticism and emphasized exact.i.tude, precision, and emotional detachment. The Parna.s.sians had, the professor continued, initially grouped themselves around their journal, Parna.s.se contemporain Parna.s.se contemporain, a literary magazine published in Paris from 1866 to 1876. Jose Maria de Heredia, whose reputation rested on his poem of 1893, Les Trophees Les Trophees, exemplified those qualities that distinguished the Parna.s.sians: Les Trophees Les Trophees had attempted to reproduce the sensory effects of painting, music, and sculpture in poetic terms. had attempted to reproduce the sensory effects of painting, music, and sculpture in poetic terms.5 The students seemed absorbed in his talk; most were taking notes on the lecture. Perhaps, Dargan reflected, it was the thought of the final exams that had concentrated their minds.

But one student, seated to his left, toward the corner of the lecture theater, on a bench several rows above him, seemed to pay no attention to his words. Dargan recognized Nathan Leopold, a sallow, dark-haired boy with a pale, unhealthy complexion. Leopold had taken a course with him the previous year. Dargan remembered him as an exceptional student, diligent and hardworking, one of the best students he had taught in his thirteen years at the university.

But Leopold now seemed distracted. Dargan noticed the boy fidgeting absentmindedly with his pencil, doodling on a notebook in front of him. From time to time, Nathan would look around the room, glancing, somewhat furtively, Dargan thought, at the other students. At other times, Nathan would stare directly ahead for several minutes, with an intense, fixed look, utterly absorbed in his own thoughts. What was the matter with the boy? Why was he so preoccupied?

THE PROFESSOR'S WORDS DRIFTED IN and out of Nathan's mind; he caught occasional phrases, but he had difficulty concentrating. He looked around the room: he could see Helen Robbins and Adelia Alschuler sitting two rows directly in front of him and, over on the other side of the room, Susan Lurie was scribbling Dargan's words into a sketchbook. and out of Nathan's mind; he caught occasional phrases, but he had difficulty concentrating. He looked around the room: he could see Helen Robbins and Adelia Alschuler sitting two rows directly in front of him and, over on the other side of the room, Susan Lurie was scribbling Dargan's words into a sketchbook.

Nathan had attended Dargan's cla.s.s on an impulse. Ernst Puttkammer had lectured on commercial law at eight o'clock, finishing at five minutes to nine. Nathan had had an hour to kill before the ten o'clock lecture on agency and torts-and instead of stepping outside for a cigarette, he had attended Dargan's lecture on the Parna.s.sians.6 But Nathan found it impossible to concentrate. He thought again of Richard Loeb; he turned their scheme over in his mind, asking himself if they had missed anything. They had arranged the murder for that afternoon; could anything go wrong?

He knew the plan; they had rehea.r.s.ed it together many times. They were to pick up the car from the rental agency on Michigan Avenue, return Nathan's automobile to his house, drive to Kramer's Restaurant in the rental car for lunch, and then continue on to Jackson Park. At two-thirty that afternoon the pupils would begin leaving the Harvard School; any one of the children walking by himself would be a suitable target-any boy would do, so long as his parents were able to pay the ransom.

Nathan and Richard had planned to kill their victim jointly. Each would pull on one end of a rope around the boy's neck. Nathan flinched involuntarily as he pictured himself pulling on the rope-it was an unpleasant image-but Richard had insisted that they both a.s.sume responsibility for the murder.

The clanging of the bell broke Nathan's reverie. It was ten o'clock, the end of cla.s.s already! The other students were picking up their books and papers. Nathan had one more lecture to attend that morning. But first he would remind Susan Lurie about their date that weekend-she was going to a dance with him.

RICHARD L LOEB STOOD IN THE sunlight, at the entrance to the law school. He watched absentmindedly a small group of students on the other side of Harper Court, directly opposite, talking animatedly among themselves outside the entrance to Haskell Hall. sunlight, at the entrance to the law school. He watched absentmindedly a small group of students on the other side of Harper Court, directly opposite, talking animatedly among themselves outside the entrance to Haskell Hall.

Richard looked at his watch. Ten minutes before eleven. He had arranged to meet Nathan here, at eleven o'clock, at the conclusion of the law lecture.7 Richard lit another cigarette and stepped forward a few paces to look up at the law school. It was an impressive building, in the Gothic style, with large bay windows on the third floor indicating the law library. The heavy b.u.t.tresses on the exterior gave the building a solemn grandeur and dignity. Richard noticed the four gargoyles above the entrance-a whimsical touch by the architect. There were two kings in the center, flanked on either side by a medieval scribe clutching a book.

At eleven o'clock, Nathan appeared. As they walked together across the campus through the main quadrangle, Richard reminded his companion that they must first drive to Nathan's home to pick up everything they needed: the chisel, adhesive tape, the bottle of ether, some pieces of cloth to gag the victim, a searchlight, the bottle of hydrochloric acid, hip boots, and the automobile blanket.8 They pa.s.sed the botany pond on their right. Richard could see Nathan's car ahead of them, the red four-cylinder w.i.l.l.ys-Knight sports model, parked on 57th Street, directly across from the football stadium. It was a beautiful car, resplendent in the sunlight, its nickel b.u.mpers catching the light, but, Richard thought again, far too distinctive for their purpose. To kidnap a child using Nathan's car would surely invite detection and capture.

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11. THE LAW SCHOOL, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. THE LAW SCHOOL, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. Theodore Roosevelt laid the cornerstone for the University of Chicago law school in 1903. Built of Bedford stone with funds donated by John D. Rockefeller, the law school building was modeled on King's College Chapel at the University of Cambridge. Theodore Roosevelt laid the cornerstone for the University of Chicago law school in 1903. Built of Bedford stone with funds donated by John D. Rockefeller, the law school building was modeled on King's College Chapel at the University of Cambridge.

They arrived at the Leopold house at eleven-thirty. Nathan had prepared the equipment earlier that morning before leaving for the university; it was the work of a moment to load everything, wrapped securely in the automobile blanket, onto the backseat of Nathan's car. And if anyone interfered with the kidnapping, they would be prepared: each boy carried a loaded revolver.9 Thirty minutes later, at the Rent-A-Car agency on Michigan Avenue, Nathan presented his identification as Morton Ballard. The clerk gave it a cursory glance; would Mr. Ballard like to take out a Ford or a w.i.l.l.ys-Knight? There was, he said, a green w.i.l.l.ys-Knight, a five-pa.s.senger touring car, in the garage; it was, the clerk continued, a very solid, reliable car, easy to drive and furnished with the standard accoutrements. The w.i.l.l.ys-Knight was slightly more expensive than a Ford but well worth the extra cost.10

SVEN E ENGLUND, THE L LEOPOLD FAMILY chauffeur, had spent most of that morning in the garage working on the engine of the Packard Twin Six; it was a luxury automobile, one of the most sophisticated on the market. Englund wanted to get the work finished as soon as possible. His employer, Nathan Leopold Sr., had asked him to get the car ready by the weekend, but Englund was finding the task more difficult than he had imagined. chauffeur, had spent most of that morning in the garage working on the engine of the Packard Twin Six; it was a luxury automobile, one of the most sophisticated on the market. Englund wanted to get the work finished as soon as possible. His employer, Nathan Leopold Sr., had asked him to get the car ready by the weekend, but Englund was finding the task more difficult than he had imagined.

He looked up to see the youngest Leopold boy coming up the driveway in his red w.i.l.l.ys-Knight; directly behind, there was a second boy driving a dark green touring car.11 Nathan stopped his car and stepped out to greet Englund. He had been having problems with his brakes and he would like to leave his car in the garage that afternoon to allow Englund to fix the problem.

"The brakes squeak so much here." Nathan spoke with an air of exasperation. He was annoyed that so trivial a problem had disrupted his routine. "I want you to fix them."

Englund looked thoughtfully at the sports car; he had hoped to have the afternoon free to continue working on the Packard.

"I can put some oil on them and you can use the emergency," he replied hopefully. "If you are careful you will not run into anybody."

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12. THE w.i.l.l.yS-KNIGHT AUTOMOBILE. THE w.i.l.l.yS-KNIGHT AUTOMOBILE. In the 1920s advertis.e.m.e.nts for the w.i.l.l.ys-Knight touring car emphasized its reliability and economy. On Wednesday, 21 May 1924, Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold searched for their victim while driving a dark green w.i.l.l.ys-Knight automobile. In the 1920s advertis.e.m.e.nts for the w.i.l.l.ys-Knight touring car emphasized its reliability and economy. On Wednesday, 21 May 1924, Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold searched for their victim while driving a dark green w.i.l.l.ys-Knight automobile.

Nathan shook his head impatiently; the noise of the brakes had irritated him for several days already. He wanted Englund to dismantle the brakes and check that it was not a serious problem.

Englund watched silently as Nathan carried a large bundle, wrapped in an automobile blanket, from his w.i.l.l.ys-Knight to the second car. Both boys drove off in the touring car, leaving Englund standing in the driveway.12

IT WAS STILL NOT YET one o'clock. Since afternoon cla.s.ses did not finish at the Harvard School on Wednesdays until two-thirty, there was little point in driving across to Ellis Avenue to wait by the school. Richard turned the car south, toward the Midway, and out east to Jackson Park. one o'clock. Since afternoon cla.s.ses did not finish at the Harvard School on Wednesdays until two-thirty, there was little point in driving across to Ellis Avenue to wait by the school. Richard turned the car south, toward the Midway, and out east to Jackson Park.13 It was a perfect day-there was not a cloud in the sky. In the far distance, by the edge of the lagoon, they could see a small group of schoolchildren sitting on the gra.s.s, listening to their teacher read from a book. On the other side, moorhens were darting in and out of the rushes, ruffling the water with their sudden movements, and in the center of the lagoon, a mute swan glided majestically over the surface, breaking the reflected patterns of the sun's rays on the water.

It was a peaceful, almost idyllic, scene. Nathan broke the silence first, turning to speak to Richard as they sat, side by side, in the front of the car. There were several boys on their list, he began, any one of whom would be a suitable victim. Armand Deutsch was their best prospect: Deutsch, an eleven-year-old pupil at the Harvard School, was the grandson of Julius Rosenwald, the president of Sears, Roebuck. The Rosenwald family was one of the wealthiest in the city and, because of the patriarch's philanthropy, also one of the best known.

Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His father was vice president of Sears, Roebuck. Albert Loeb had known the Rosenwalds for two decades. Richard was uneasy that Armand Deutsch was a possible victim. Suppose they were found out? Imagine the embarra.s.sment for his father if it emerged that Richard had killed Julius Rosenwald's grandson!

Well, Nathan continued, there was also Johnny Levinson, a nine-year-old boy in the same cla.s.s at the school as Richard's younger brother, Tommy. Johnny's father, Sol Levinson, was one of the wealthiest attorneys in Chicago. He would certainly pay the ransom. Samuel Harris, a fourteen-year-old pupil at the Harvard School, was also on the list; his father was a building contractor who had made his fortune during the city's real estate boom at the turn of the century.14 Richard looked at his watch. They had been talking for almost an hour. It was quarter past two. He turned the key in the ignition and slowly moved the car out of Jackson Park toward the Midway.15

AS THEY TRAVELED NORTH, TOWARD Kenwood, Nathan reminded Richard that directly across the street from the Harvard School, facing its redbrick facade, there was an alley connecting Ellis Avenue to a parallel road, Ingleside Avenue. They could park the car on Ingleside Avenue, walk along the alley to Ellis Avenue, and from the alley observe the main entrance of the school. Kenwood, Nathan reminded Richard that directly across the street from the Harvard School, facing its redbrick facade, there was an alley connecting Ellis Avenue to a parallel road, Ingleside Avenue. They could park the car on Ingleside Avenue, walk along the alley to Ellis Avenue, and from the alley observe the main entrance of the school.16 Nathan waited by the car on Ingleside Avenue while Richard walked through the alley to the Harvard School. Richard could see a few boys already by the main entrance; some cla.s.ses must have ended already. He continued walking, past the entrance and along the north side of the school, toward the playground in the rear.

James Sea.s.s, an instructor, was in the playground, standing guard over the boys playing baseball. Richard recognized Sea.s.s as a senior at the university, a member of Delta Chi. He guessed that Sea.s.s was teaching at the Harvard School part-time to pay his way through college.17 Suddenly Richard noticed one of the boys on their list. Johnny Levinson, a thin wire of a boy with straight brown hair falling over his forehead, was scarcely ten feet from where Richard stood.

Could Richard lure Johnny away from his friends? What would persuade Johnny to leave the playground and walk with Richard to the car?

Richard found an excuse to talk to the boy. Johnny had a baseball in his hand; he was waiting for some friends, he explained to Richard, so that they could walk across to the lot at 49th Street and Drexel Boulevard for a pickup baseball game.18 Richard left the playground and made his way to the main entrance. His ten-year-old brother, Tommy, had finished his cla.s.ses and was standing by the door, talking to another boy.19 At that moment, Nathan appeared on the other side of Ellis Avenue, directly opposite the school entrance. He whistled for Richard. He waved, urgently, signaling to Richard to join him. There were some children playing on Ingleside Avenue, he announced. Why not capture one of them? The street was otherwise deserted; there were no adults in sight.

No, Richard replied; he had a better plan. Johnny Levinson was going to 49th Street to play baseball; they should watch the game and then, when Johnny left to go home, they could grab the boy and kill him.20 But it was difficult to watch the game without being observed. They had to be careful: someone might see them watching the boys playing baseball, and if Johnny Levinson vanished, they would surely be linked to his disappearance.

While Nathan went back to his house on Greenwood Avenue to pick up his field gla.s.ses, Richard stopped at the drugstore on 47th Street and Ellis Avenue. He would find the Levinsons' address in the telephone book. Once they knew the street where Johnny lived, they could tell the direction he would take to go home.21 But by the time they arrived at 49th Street, Johnny Levinson had left the game. Perhaps he would return. They watched and waited for Johnny to appear. But there was no sign of the boy-he must have gone home.

Throughout the afternoon, they continued to drive around Kenwood, looking for a victim. Some children were playing near the corner of 48th Street and Greenwood Avenue, so close to the Leopold house that they could watch them from an upstairs bedroom window, but that opportunity also disappointed them-the children never departed alone but always left in small groups or with at least one other child.22 It was almost four-thirty. They had now spent almost two hours in Kenwood, waiting and watching, hoping for the opportunity to kidnap a victim. Nathan was ready to abandon the attempt, at least for today; perhaps they should try again tomorrow.

Richard hesitated; it was worth one last try. They would drive around Kenwood a final time, and if they did not see anyone, they would postpone the kidnapping until another day.

Nathan drove the car west along 49th Street, turning left onto Drexel Boulevard. Richard sat in the back, behind the front pa.s.senger seat. At Hyde Park Boulevard, they turned left again, continuing east for one block. On Ellis Avenue, they drove north, pa.s.sing the Loeb family home on the right-hand side.23 Richard Loeb had slumped back in his seat. It was already a few minutes past five o'clock and Ellis Avenue was deserted. It seemed futile to continue looking; no doubt all the children had made it safely home.

RICHARD SAW HIM FIRST. There-on the other side of the street-was a young boy, about fourteen years old, with chestnut-brown hair, walking south, alone, on Ellis Avenue. He was wearing a tan jacket with matching knee trousers, a colored shirt, and a necktie; he had on brown shoes and black-and-white checkered socks. There-on the other side of the street-was a young boy, about fourteen years old, with chestnut-brown hair, walking south, alone, on Ellis Avenue. He was wearing a tan jacket with matching knee trousers, a colored shirt, and a necktie; he had on brown shoes and black-and-white checkered socks.24 Richard leaned forward and tapped Nathan urgently on the shoulder. "Here is an ideal victim."

Richard looked more closely; the boy seemed familiar. Richard suddenly recognized him. It was his cousin, Bobby Franks! Richard murmured into Nathan's ear, "I know him."25 The Franks family lived on Ellis Avenue, almost directly opposite the Loeb home. Richard knew the Franks children well-just yesterday, he had played tennis with Bobby on the court at the rear of the Franks mansion.

The car slowed down, but Bobby had already walked past. He had now crossed 48th Street.

Nathan turned the car in a circle so as to drive up behind the boy. He drove slowly down Ellis Avenue, gradually catching up with Bobby, pulling alongside the boy.

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13. THE KIDNAPPING. THE KIDNAPPING. As Leopold and Loeb drove north along Ellis Avenue, they spotted Bobby Franks walking south, about to cross 48th Street. They turned the car around to drive up behind Franks just before he reached 49th Street. As Leopold and Loeb drove north along Ellis Avenue, they spotted Bobby Franks walking south, about to cross 48th Street. They turned the car around to drive up behind Franks just before he reached 49th Street.

"Hey, Bob," Richard shouted from the rear window.

Bobby turned slightly to see the w.i.l.l.ys-Knight stop by the curb. Richard leaned forward, into the front pa.s.senger seat, to open the front door.

"h.e.l.lo, Bob. I'll give you a ride."

The boy shook his head-he was almost home.

"No, I can walk."

"Come on in the car; I want to talk to you about the tennis racket you had yesterday. I want to get one for my brother."26 Bobby had moved closer now. He was standing by the side of the car. Richard looked at him through the open window. Bobby was so close that Richard could have grabbed him and pulled him inside, but he continued talking, hoping to persuade the boy to step into the front seat.

Bobby had stepped onto the running board. The front pa.s.senger door was open, inviting the boy inside, and then suddenly Bobby slid himself into the front seat, next to Nathan.

Richard gestured toward Nathan, "You know Leopold, don't you?"

Bobby glanced sideways at Nathan and shook his head, not recognizing him.

"No."

"You don't mind [us] taking you around the block?"