In 1942, the Czech government in exile decided to parachute two commandos into the former Czechoslovakia to assassinate Reinhard Heydrich, considered the most brutal and sinister Nazi in Occupied Europe. Code named Operation Anthropoid, this suicide mission remains one of the most heroic and remarkable stories of World War II
On the evening of June 26, 1942, Heydrich hosted a concert featuring classical music composed by his father. Twelve hours later he would be fighting for his life after one of the two parachutists successfully detonated an anti-tank grenade near his limousine.Heydrich’s convertible Mercedes-Benz limousine after the commando attack.
But Kubas had also approached the car, undetected and he hurled the grenade towards the open interior of the vehicle. He missed badly, the device skittering against the rear right tire and exploding against the side and undercarriage of the Mercedes. Although inaccurate, the blast was intense enough to shatter the tram’s windows and send shrapnel into a group of passengers exiting the streetcar.
St. Cyril and Thelonius Cathedral, where the commandos made their final stand against overwhelming Nazi force.
It is not known where exactly Kubis and Gabcik hid in the first days after the assassination. But, understanding that it was only a matter of time before they would be located, Jan Zelensky arranged for seven of the fugitive commandos to be hidden in the expansive crypt of the Saint Cyril and Methodius Cathedral, Prague’s most prominent Czech Orthodox church.
Heinz Pannwitz, Gestapo investigator
Heinz Pannwitz, the local Gestapo official in charge of the investigation and manhunt decided that a change of strategy was in order. He got Frank to agree to announce that an amnesty would be provided to any citizen who provided valuable information about the assassins, as long as this occurred before June 18. If an arrest was not forthcoming by then, 30,000 Czechs would be detained and executed.
Vent that led to the crypt at St. Cyril and Thelonius cathedral, bullet holes were made during the final standoff.
The only other access was through a narrow opening leading to the exterior of the church, essentially for ventilation. Not wanting to instigate another mass suicide, Pannwitz attempted to reason with the remaining commandos inside. Announcements via loudspeaker blared that the defenders would be treated as POW’s if they surrendered. Petrek, and even Karol Curda, was sent up to the narrow opening, hoping to induce a peaceful conclusion. Upon hearing Curda’s voice, one of the defenders let loose with gunshots and yelled that they would never surrender. Pannwitz then tried having the city fire department flood the crypt, jamming large fire houses down the vent and releasing hundreds of gallons of water a minute as well as tear gas into the crypt, to no avail. The hoses were pushed out by the defenders, who also hurled Molotov cocktails at the firemen.
Horst Bohme, ranking officer at Lidice, with Karl Hermann Frank and Himmler.
The ranking officer on the scene in charge of the Lidice massacre, Horst Bohme, disappeared at the end of the war and was declared legally dead in 1954, most likely a suicide.
Lidice, after initial German demolition.
Even before Heydrich’s state funeral in Berlin concluded, on the evening of June 9, upon hearing the details of Lidice’s defiance, Hitler ordered the village to be completely destroyed. At 9:30 at night, the village was sealed off, men over the age of fifteen were separated from the town’s women and children, and in groups of ten were placed against a wall and shot. At midday on the tenth, all 173 men were dead. They were buried in a mass grave dug by concentration camp inhabitants from Theriesiensdtadt. 203 women were placed on an armed transport to the women’s concentration camp facility at Ravensbruck. Although brutal, this was not an extermination camp, 143 of these deportees survived their imprisonment. As many as 105 children were detained, the exact number unclear based on their ultimate fates. Only a handful of these victims were determined to be suitable for “Germanization,” several eventually murdered in German orphanages. The rest were consigned to the Chelmno extermination camp. Only seventeen made it home after the war.
Lidice memorial to the child victims of the Nazi massacre.
In 1961, an unemployed cab driver, Kempton Bunton, pulled off one of the most remarkable art thefts of the 20th century. Or did he?
Kempton Bunton, 1965
Bunton’s mother named him Kempton Cannon Bunton after a British jockey, Kempton Cannon, who won the Epsom Derby only days before her son’s birth, June 14, 1904, a victory she financially backed. When asked about his unusual name, Bunton also always replied, “It’s Kempton as in Kempton Park racecourse,” as if to underscore his interest in such an edgy activity.
Francisco De Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington
Arthur Wellesley, the First Duke of Wellington, became one of the most prominent military and political leaders of the British Empire during the first half of the nineteenth century. Despite spending approximately fifteen years in military posts that included the Netherlands and especially India, Wellesley remained an obscure commanding officer until his 1808 assignment to the Peninsula War, an extended conflict on the Iberian Peninsula combating Napoleonic occupation. This grueling struggle, combined with Napoleon’s disastrous 1812 invasion of Russia, depleted French military strength, and lead to France’s eventual capitulation. One of the key moments of the Peninsula War occurred when Wellesley, then the Earl of Wellington, achieved a decisive victory at Salamanca, which lead to the liberation of the capital, Madrid and the flight to Valencia of Joseph Bonaparte, titular king of Spain, and brother of Napoleon Bonaparte. The Earl entered the capital on August 12, 1812, at the head of his troops, the British hailed as liberators by Madrid’s grateful inhabitants. The Peninsula War dragged on laboriously until 1814 and the final collapse and abdication of Napoleon Bonaparte, but after Salamanca, Madrid was never reoccupied by French forces.
Francisco De Goya
As a celebrity, Wellington, in the capital, crossed paths with Francisco de Goya, the Spanish Court Painter and a prominent member of official society in his own right. Goya was able to get the British commander to sit for a sketch and two other eventual paintings, an equestrian study and a remarkable portrait of Wellington, in scarlet uniform, festooned with numerous colorful decorations and a remarkably lifelike expression. Over time, as the historical prominence of both men grew, this portrait achieved a special stature denoting the interaction of one of Europe’s greatest artists with one of the continent’s most accomplished statesman and military leaders, a truly rare collaboration.
Britain’s National Gallery, London
The initial controversy and subsequent national retention of such a uniquely British artifact generated massive publicity and anticipation when it was announced that the painting would be placed on display at London’s National Gallery, beginning August 2, 1961. For two and a half weeks, crowds averaging well over five thousand patrons daily, an unusual increase over the normal number of the museum’s visitors, flocked to see the newly acquired painting. To accentuate the stature of and to insure maximum accessibility for the throng of visitors eager to see the portrait, Goya’s Duke of Wellington was displayed on a portable easel, not in one of the museum’s rooms with other paintings but by itself, in a common area, in the North Vestibule of the Gallery. It also was loosely secured on the easel to allow for immediate removal in the event of fire or some other calamity. Then, on August 21, the painting vanished.
In 1961, an unemployed cab driver, Kempton Bunton, pulled off one of the most remarkable art thefts of the 20th century. Or did he?
Kempton Bunton, entering court in 1965
Although Bunton was initially only charged with one count of larceny, the prosecution submitted an indictment that was much more severe. He was now charged with two counts of larceny, one for the painting, one for the frame, that was never recovered, and one charge of menacing for submitting letters to Lord Robbins demanding money. In addition, he was charged with creating a public nuisance by depriving citizens of their right to see the painting and with additional menacing, implying the potential threat to permanently keep or even destroy the artwork in his letter to the Mirrror. Breaking out the frame and the portrait theft charges separately and prosecuting Bunton for inconveniencing the public, certainly seemed like a case of overcharging, however the prosecution might have been concerned about a jury’s reaction to an oddball like Bunton, especially where charity was supposedly involved and they may have wished to underline the gravity of the offence.
London’s Old Bailey
On November 4, 1965, in the Central Criminal Court, Kempton Bunton’s trial began before Judge Carl Aarvold, a distinguished jurist eventually knighted for his public service. The court was known by its nickname, Old Bailey, the site of numerous famous and sensational court cases involving many famous defendants. Its marble floors, ornate décor and fine wooden walls evoked the image of a British courtroom popularized throughout the world in film and television.
Lobby of Old Bailey
Although Bunton was initially only charged with one count of larceny, the prosecution submitted an indictment that was much more severe. He was now charged with two counts of larceny, one for the painting, one for the frame, that was never recovered, and one charge of menacing for submitting letters to Lord Robbins demanding money. In addition, he was charged with creating a public nuisance by depriving citizens of their right to see the painting and with additional menacing, implying the potential threat to permanently keep or even destroy the artwork in his letter to the Mirrror. Breaking out the frame and the portrait theft charges separately and prosecuting Bunton for inconveniencing the public, certainly seemed like a case of overcharging, however the prosecution might have been concerned about a jury’s reaction to an oddball like Bunton, especially where charity was supposedly involved and they may have wished to underline the gravity of the offence.
Courtroom Number One, Old Bailey
Kempton Bunton had a spontaneous manner of testifying that incorporated unintentionally hilarious comments that convulsed the entire courtroom, including the judge, with raucous laughter. When asked if he had ever told his wife about the theft, Bunton replied emphatically and without hesitation,
“No, then the whole world would know, if I told her.”
When Cussen attempted to challenge Bunton’s assertion that he always intended to return the Goya, Bunton was practically exasperated,
“Absolutely, it was no good to me otherwise. I wouldn’t hang it in my own kitchen if it was my own picture,” the comment again bringing down the house, an unemployed cab driver deriding one of the art world’s most esteemed paintings. Again and again, Bunton’s oddball demeanor and ability to stonewall the prosecution not allowing Cussen to portray him in a diabolical light.
In 1929, Al Capone was worth an inflation adjusted 1.5 billion dollars.
Al Capone as a child with his mother
On January 17, 1899, Alphonse Gabriel Capone became the fourth child born into this family, and the second native American. Including the two born in Italy, the Capone family later consisted of nine children, eight surviving into adulthood. Al’s father was a barber by trade, eventually moving the family to a better home that also contained his shop. His father, unlike his mother, was literate and spoke English. Although relatively poor, the Capones seemed like just another ordinary, hard working couple putting their children through school and looking to make their way in the new world. There was nothing to indicate mental instability or dysfunction that eventually produced a remarkably anti-social progeny.
Johnny Torrio
From a young age, Donato “Johnny” Torrio was focused on organizing criminal activities involving gambling and loan sharking that he operated from behind a legitimate business, a neighborhood pool hall. Although not flamboyant, Torrio, born in Montepeloso, Italy, was a sharp operator who allied himself with Manhattan’s Five Points Gang and quickly began to branch out into more malevolent criminal activity involving prostitution, extortion and even narcotics. Torrio also kept a close eye on the neighborhood, always eager to find teenagers that he could depend on to run errands and generally handle tasks without asking too many questions.
James “Big Jim” Colosimo
This change was prompted by Johnny Torrio, by now himself relocated to Chicago and the brains behind the racketeering organization operated by James (Big Jim) Colosimo, a rags to riches gangster and restaurateur, who covertly ran a huge vice operation that dealt especially in brothels and prostitution. His Colosimo’s Café was one of the most popular and opulent restaurants in the city and Colosimo, sporting diamonds, wearing a white suit, tall and certainly carrying more than a few extra pounds was a literally larger than life figure. Torrio was the perfectly reserved and concealed manager who paid attention to day to day operations while Colosimo spent most of his time partying and taking advantage of his proximity to a large stable of obliging females.
Dean O’Banion
Warned by his gang buddies to stop provoking Torrio, O’Banion famously responded, “To hell with the Sicilians,” evincing a bravado that was recklessly foolhardy. Because, O’Banion was a heavyweight gangland figure with strong connections, the Outfit tread carefully but methodically forward. O’Banion also had a lucrative florist business that focused especially on the elaborate floral designs necessitated by any number of gangland deaths in Chicago. The shop was directly across from the Holy Name Cathedral, an immense downtown Chicago Catholic church and location that generated even more business. O’Banion actually supervised the business personally and was usually on the premises. On November 10, 1924, three men entered the store, ostensibly to pick up a sizable order. Exactly who these men were has always been the subject of rumor, but the best guess revolves around Frankie Yale, who O’Banion would not have suspected and two other men, John Scalise and Albert Anselmi, two individuals who eventually became the most feared hitmen in the Outfit but at that time were unknown, recent emigres from Sicily. While Frankie Yale firmly shook hands with O’Banion, both Scalise and Anselmi shot him in the chest, throat and a final coup de grace to the head. Other employees in the rear of the store fled out of the back door. O’Banion’s funeral was as lavish as any Chicago had ever seen, the funeral procession to the cemetery a mile long. Capone and Torrio and many other enemies were in attendance, for them the occasion as much of a celebration as anything else. They presumed that O’Banion’s north side territory would now be there’s to keep.
George “Bugs” Moran, 1946, mug shot for Dayton bank robbery, long after his Chicago glory days
Although Bugs Moran escaped injury, his gang was essentially neutralized and in the early thirties he left Chicago altogether. He resumed his life as a petty criminal, engaging in crimes involving forgery and bank robbery. Once one of the wealthiest criminals in Chicago, he died penniless, of cancer in 1957, in Leavenworth Prison, while serving a ten year sentence for bank robbery, and is buried in the prison cemetery in an unmarked grave.
Thompson Submachine Gun, with circular drum
Ironically purchased while he was on an extended visit to Colorado, Dean O’Banion was the first Chicago criminal to recognize the potential of the Thompson submachine in conducting gang warfare. The gun was invented in 1916, the result of the First World War, but it never really caught on and subsequent peacetime efforts to sell the weapon to police departments were met with failure. But the relatively light weight automatic that could fire numerous bullets from a round drum was perfect for shooting up buildings and automobiles, accuracy no longer necessary for the rapid fire of dozens of bullets sprayed in the general direction of a target. Although O’Banion didn’t live long enough to ever use the gun itself, in January of 1925, Weiss, Drucci and Moran did use a submachine gun in an attempt to kill Al Capone. The gangster traveled around Chicago in a large recognizable Cadillac, figuring his bodyguards would handle any typical attack. This particular attempt failed, the parked limousine sized car containing only Capone’s chauffeur and his bodyguards, Al safely inside a nearby restaurant. But the incident impressed the Outfit enough to secure their own Thompsons, a development that eventually became relevant to Hymie Weiss in a major way.
Al Capone’s Miami house, 2013
Al Capone made himself highly visible in Miami before and after St. Valentine’s Day, commenting when he heard Bugs Moran’s accusation that actually only Moran killed like that. Although Jack McGurn was eventually arrested for the crime, he was released for lack of evidence, McGurn having carefully and also visibly checked into a hotel with his attractive girlfriend, Louise Rolfe. Known thereafter as the “Blonde Alibi,” Rolfe and McGurn eventually got married so that she could never be forced to testify against her husband. Although several witnesses were able to identify Fred Killer Burke, he was already a fugitive and eluded police by fleeing to a rural part of Missouri. No one was ever prosecuted for the St. Valentines Day Massacre.
Capone family house, Chicago South Side
By mid-1922, Al Capone was earning enough money to move his wife, son, widowed mother and even some of his still teenaged siblings to Chicago. He installed these members of the Capone clan in a South Side suburban house, far from the areas in Chicago that generated his income. While he occasionally holed up elsewhere, he would own this home for the rest of his time as a Chicago resident. And initially, Al’s life in Chicago in the early twenties was relatively peaceful, with the various criminal factions respecting each other’s territories, assuming that there was a big enough racketeering pie for everybody to prosper.
In 1929, Al Capone was worth an inflation adjusted 1.5 Billion Dollars.
Green Mill Cocktail Lounge, Chicago.
Most speakeasies and night clubs serving illicit alcohol provided entertainment in some form, mostly jazz or a vocalist with a band. One of these entertainers named Joe E. Lewis was a regular performer at the Green Mill, a club that was owned by the Outfit. As compensation, Al Capone gave Jack McGurn a piece of the club’s profits and when McGurn found out that Lewis was not going to renew his contract and was going to earn more money at the Rendezvous, a North Side Gang operation, he confronted the singer-comedian and told him he couldn’t leave.
Joe E. Lewis
Lewis brushed him off, said his contract was up and that was that. He actually performed at the Rendezvous for a week, protected by a bodyguard who accompanied him to and from his hotel residence. Lewis then decided he didn’t need protection, that McGurn had only been trying to scare him. On November 9, 1927, seven days after he opened at his new club, three men showed up at Lewis’ Commonwealth Hotel room, burst in on the sleepy Lewis when he opened the door and pistol whipped him into unconsciousness. Then one assailant took a large knife to Lewis’ throat and mouth and even cut off part of the singer’s tongue. Although they could have merely shot the defiant entertainer, the thugs instead sent a terrible message to Lewis and any other performer who attempted to assert such independence. Joe E. Lewis managed to crawl into the hallway and was quickly taken to a hospital where he underwent extensive but successful surgery. He recovered but eventually became a stand-up comedian, his voice now a bullfrog like croak, no longer able to belt out night club standards. Ironically, most likely to counter the public outcry over the incident, Al Capone actually went out of his way to patch things up, claiming to Lewis personally that he knew nothing about the attack and that Joe should have come to him personally if he had a problem. Capone also got him back to the Green Mill, equaling his deal at the Rendezvous, and gave Lewis winning tips at dog and horse races controlled by the Outfit. Lewis’ career continued successfully well into the sixties, and a biographical film starring Frank Sinatra called the Joker Is Wild was produced in 1957, reiterating Lewis’ terrible ordeal and recovery.
Al Capone, Philadelphia mug shot after firearms arrest
While this investigation proceeded laboriously, in mid-1929, a curious incident occurred which only added to the mysterious lore surrounding Al Capone. In mid-May of 1929, Capone traveled to Atlantic City to participate in what became known as the Atlantic City Conference. Organized by Meyer Lansky, this gathering included almost all of American organized crime including Capone, Lucky Luciano, Frank Costello and many other gangsters from all over the US. The meeting was the first attempt by the American underworld to set up a national organization to oversee and make decisions to divide territory and adjudicate disputes without violence. Another underlying issue was a resolve to minimize the attention that Al Capone was generating, involving both the type of violence that occurred with the St. Valentines Day Massacre and Capone himself, who routinely sought out positive media coverage and made himself publicly prominent to the point of celebrity, behavior that created hostility from other prominent underworld figures who abhorred attention of any kind. Following the conference, which concluded on May 16, Capone intended to return to Chicago by train via Philadelphia. With some time on his hands, he and a bodyguard went to a movie and when the film ended, upon leaving the theater, both men were arrested, searched and found in possession of a firearm, in Capone’s case a .38 caliber revolver.
Capone, Time Magazine, 1930
. But his respite was brief, In late April, the Chicago Crime Commission, a watch-dog collection of businessmen with no legal standing issued a list of the 14 most prominent Public enemies in the city. Headlines about this list screamed over the front pages of every American newspaper and when Capone attempted to lie low in Miami, he was continually arrested there as a public nuisance, harassment that he eventually successfully fought in court.
Al Capone, mug shot, Atlanta Federal Penitentiary
Al Capone’s legal good fortune ran out on October 18 when the jury returned with a verdict of guilty. Six days later Capone received a sentence of eleven years, the longest sentence ever imposed for tax evasion. By comparison, Nitti and Guzik received 18 months and five years respectively. Although he would appeal, Capone was confined in the Cook County Jail until May 2, 1932, when the Supreme Court of the United States refused to hear his case. Immediately, the Federal government prepared to send him not to Leavenworth , where Nitti and Guzik languished, but to the penitentiary in Atlanta, the system’s harshest. He began serving his sentence on May 4.
Alcatraz Island and former Federal prison
On August 19, 1934 Al Capone was placed on another train with 42 other prisoners, a train that was very different from his ride to Atlanta on the Dixie Flyer where he interacted with other civilians and played cards. It was armored with bulletproof plating, its windows barred, the Atlanta prison warden and numerous heavily armed guards along for the ride. The occupants were not told of their destination, but rumors had swirled for months about a new federal prison, even harsher than Atlanta, an escape proof dungeon on an island in San Francisco Bay. It was called Alcatraz.
Alcatraz, Prisoner Number 85
Because of his notoriety, his propensity for braggadocio about past criminal exploits and his constant demands from the warden for special treatment, Al Capone was not a popular inmate. In fact, on June 26, 1936, another inmate stabbed him with the detachable blade of a pair of barber shears, which Capone survived.
Al Capone, Terminal Island
Finally, unwillingly to merely release Capone before his time, the Bureau of Prisons allowed his transfer to Terminal Island, in San Pedro, California on January 6, 1939. By now, Capone’s mental capacity was utterly diminished, his conversation peppered with the mention of celebrities. exploits and future plans that were utterly delusional. Neither the Capone family or the Federal government wanted the spectacle of a public release of Al Capone. Government doctors recommended that the family consign Capone to the care of members of the medical staff at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, the leading specialists in the nation on the treatment of neurosyphilis. Capone was secretly transferred to the penitentiary at Lewisburg, PA and then officially released on November 16, 1939.
Machine Gun Jack McGurn grave, Chicago
It took longer, but the demise of Jack McGurn was perhaps the most illustrative example of how quickly Capone’s power diminished. McGurn was always considered a braggart and a hothead, and with Capone gone, Frank Nitti had no use for him, McGurn too recognizable as a hitman. For a while McGurn tried to hustle a living as a golf pro, hanging out at a mobbed up Chicago golf course of which he was a part owner. By 1936, still married to Louise Rolfe, McGurn was broke, hadn’t killed anyone in years and was rumored to have threatened Frank Nitti if Capone’s successor didn’t let him back into the rackets. On February 14, 1936, seven years to the day after the infamous massacre he allegedly planned, Jack McGurn was bowling with two buddies, a regular Friday night outing. Shortly after midnight, three gunmen burst into the bowling alley and methodically shot him fatally in the head and back. Although technically, February 15, earlier on Valentine’s Day, someone knowing that McGurn would be at the bowling alley, left him an inscribed Valentine with a drawing of a couple, apparently in need of cash, standing gloomily with a For Sale sign next to their worldly goods. The printed message inside read:
On February 3, 1959, Buddy Holly was in the middle of the tour from hell and would do anything to avoid another three hundred mile, overnight bus ride that already had inflicted frostbite on another band member. That determination changed American popular music forever.
Buddy Holly, early Brunswick Records publicity photo
Charles Hardin Holley was born in Lubbock, Texas on September 7, 1936. The “e” in his surname would be dropped when Decca Records misspelled Holley on one of his first recording contracts. Nicknamed Buddy by his mother, as she considered “Charles,” too formal, he was the youngest of four siblings. The family was Baptist and deeply religious, attending church routinely but singing hymns from an early age probably developed Buddy’s interest in music. Despite Lubbock’s location in the heart of the bible belt, Holly was also intrigued by country and rhythm and blues popular tunes that were available via radio stations from larger midwestern radio stations. By the seventh grade, he was playing with another junior high school student, Bob Montgomery, in a duet called Buddy and Bob, mostly country music covers of artists like Hank Williams.
Norman Petty Studios, Clovis, New Mexico
1957 began with Buddy getting a predictable release from his Decca contract. If you were out of Lubbock, Texas in 1957 and had just been dropped from a major label there wasn’t much of a Plan B. The best Buddy could come up with was heading to Clovis, New Mexico and the Norman Petty Studio to pay for his own demo and hope to interest a regional industry professional, in this case Norman Petty, in getting interested in representing Holly. Norman Petty was one of the many small time independents that operated on the fringes of 1950’s rock and roll. Less successful than the legendary Sam Phillips of Memphis’ Sun records who discovered Elvis, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis, Petty still had a reputation for recognizing performers that he plugged either to record companies or radio stations. But in early 1957, he also was still looking to get involved with talent that would translate into national success. That’s why, when Buddy Holly returned to Petty’s studio in January of 1957 and cut a demo, Norman recognized that Holly had greatly evolved. He told Buddy to get some more material together, polish it up and come back in February and they would seriously concentrate on developing a single, exactly the result Holly was looking for.
When he returned to Clovis on February 24, Buddy not only had three other backing musicians, Larry Welborn, Jerry Allison and Niki Sullivan, he also had Gary and Ramona Tollett as backup singers. Because Petty’s studio was close to a busy street with daytime noisy truck traffic, recording didn’t begin until after office hours. Petty wanted, “I’m Looking For someone To Love,” to be the “A” side of a single and when that was arduously completed over many hours, at 3 AM, it then took only four takes to record, “That’ll Be The Day.” Subsequently, Norman Petty claimed to have greatly influenced this session, Gary Tollett maintained that Buddy already had the arrangements down and all Petty did was arrange the microphones. Nevertheless, Petty then executed two of the more audacious moves in the history of Rock and Roll skullduggery. The first revolved around songwriting and publishing credits. Petty maintained that because he had provided the free use of his studio, had music connections in NY and was a known quantity in the business, his name should appear on the record as one of the songwriters. A known quantity, he explained, is better than some unknown kids from West Texas. He also offered to publish the music through his own Nor Va Jak publishing company, spinning this as a kind of business benefit, explaining that they wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. He didn’t emphasize that this would entitle him to fifty per cent of the publishing revenues, only that this was how the business worked. Buddy Holly was so thrilled that anyone would try to help him get somewhere that he didn’t give it a second thought.
Ritchie Valens
No Hollywood screenwriter would have attempted to put over the story of Valen’s overnight success at such a young age. When a well connected LA music producer named Bob Keene got a tip that a precocious sixteen year old phenom was performing at a movie theater in the Valley, he decided to check out the youngster performing as Ritchie Valenzuela. The teenager already had a following as the “Little Richard of the Valley,” and Keene signed him to a contract right away, promising to both help record and manage Ritchie’s career. After rehearsing Ritchie in the basement studio of his Silver Lake home, in June of 1958, Keane booked a session at Gold Star Studios, to put together a single. From this emerged Ritchie’s first song, Come on, Let’s Go!” Keane was involved in producing Sam Cooke’s first hit, “You Send Me,” and although he was financially outmaneuvered by his then business partner, Keane was an astute industry professional. He convinced Ritchie to change his professional name to Valens explaining that DJ’s wouldn’t play an obviously Latino artist on commercial pop radio. He then met with the music director of KFWB, a personal friend, who made playlist decisions for the biggest radio station in Los Angeles. Keene’s contact did not need much persuasion, within days of Ritchie’s first recording session, Come On, Let’s go was in the rotation at most Southern California radio stations. It gradually become a nationally popular song and Keane, wanting to put together enough material to allow Ritchie to headline on tour, quickly rushed Valens back into the studio. Having spent time driving the singer to various local shows in SoCal, Keane had heard Ritchie singing a Mexican folk song to himself on acoustic guitar, called La Bamba. Ritchie’s manager was intent on doing something with the song, but Valens did not like the idea of exploiting a traditional Mexican folk tune in a rock and roll song. Instead, in a repetition of how “Peggy Sue,” originated, Ritchie was intent on recording, “Donna,” a song about a high school classmate. Donna Ludwig was an Anglo 16 teen year old whose father would not have approved of even a fifties teen age romance with a Latino. She frequently took to climbing out of her bedroom window to meet Ritchie at local soda fountains and roller rinks. In the studio, Keane compromised. Ritchie would record both songs as A-Sides, giving him two shots at a potential hit. By November Donna was steadily rising up the charts, it would be at #3 in early February of 1959. By the time Ritchie Valens hit Chicago, he had dropped out of high school, bought his mother a house and was on the verge of banking over $100,000, heady stuff for a seventeen year old whose extended family previously subsisted on picking asparagus and plums in the yet undeveloped farmlands north of Los Angeles.
Buddy with Crickets Jerry Allison and Joe B. Mauldin
Holly was business savvy enough to remember and understand that his previous deal with Decca forbade him for five years to use any of the songs recorded during his tenure there. That included, “That’ll be the Day.” Petty’s second utterly brazen move to get around this was to suggest recording this with the name, as yet still undetermined, of a band. A couple of days later, because of their familiarity with another group known as the Spiders, Holly and Jerry Allison started to consider other insect names, actually considering the Beetles with a double EE before settling on the Crickets.
The Big Bopper aka JP Richardson
JP Richardson, aka the Big Bopper, known chiefly for his top 40 novelty hit of the previous September, Chantilly Lace. Richardson drew from his previous employment as a disc jockey, weaving comic dialog into an irrepressible melody while wearing a full length dyed leopard skin fur coat and white bucks, undoubtedly giving himself an interesting stage presence.
Waylon Jennings, country superstar, mid-seventies.
To fill out his backing band for the Winter Dance Party, Buddy convinced a Lubbock DJ and musician named Waylon Jennings to join as the bass player, despite Jennings having no bass experience. Buddy hung out a lot at the DJ’s station, WLLL the most popular in Lubbock and liked Jennings, he told Waylon he would buy him a bass and teach him everything he would need to know before the tour started.
On February 3, 1959, Buddy Holly was in the middle of the tour from hell and would do anything to avoid another three hundred mile, overnight bus ride that already had inflicted frostbite on another band member. That determination changed American popular music forever.
Buddy Holly and Waylon Jennings in a NY photo booth.
In mid-January, when the three band members got to NY, Allsup and Bunch checked into a hotel, but Waylon Jennings stayed with Buddy and Maria. Time was of the essence and Buddy figured he needed as much time as possible to get Waylon up to speed. It was also during this time period that Maria informed Buddy that she was pregnant, news they kept even from Buddy’s parents.
The Surf Ballroom, Clear Lake , Iowa
After the equipment was offloaded, Buddy collared the Surf Ballroom’s manager Carroll Anderson and asked him about chartering a plane. Anderson knew of an associate named Jerry Dwyer, who operated a flying service out of a small regional airport in nearby Mason City. Dwyer was out at a Chamber of Commerce meeting, but Anderson was able to get a hold of a pilot who worked for Dwyer, 21 year old Roger Peterson, who immediately agreed to fly the charter. During an intermission before Dion and the Belmonts and Buddy Holly finished the show, word began to spread among the musicians that Buddy was going to fly. Initially, there were two seats on board and Holly figured that he would offer them to his two band members, Jennings and Allsup. But once the Big Bopper found out about the charter, he approached Jennings and asked if he could take his spot, as long as Buddy said it was okay. Waylon Jennings knew that JP Richardson was quite sick and he was also a headliner so he agreed to give up his seat. When Holly heard that Jennings had bailed on the flight, he figured Jennings was just too scared to fly. Laughing at his bass guitarist, he said, “I hope your bus freezes up!,” Jennings responded without thinking. “I hope your plane crashes,” a comment he would both keep private and feel guilty about for many subsequent years.
The wreckage of Buddy Holly’s plane, February 3, 1959
None of the nearby farmers noticed anything unusual until Cerro Gordo county sheriff deputies pulled up to the farm of Albert Juhl, who opened the gate to his property and watched as the two policeman rapidly headed west, quickly able to see the wreckage of the plane in the distance, lodged where it came to a stop against a barbed wire fence separating the Juhl farm from some adjoining properties. As they pulled up to the scene, the body of the pilot was visible in the wreckage, and what was eventually identified as the bodies of Valens and Buddy Holly were within twenty feet of the plane’s remains. JP Richardson was hurled from the crash over the barbed wire fence, lying forty feet away as small amounts of snow were swirled around the bodies and the wreckage,
Buddy Holly’s grave, Lubbock, Texas
Back in Mason City, Buddy Holly’s brother arrived to pick up his brother’s body and take it back for burial in Lubbock, visiting the crash site before the plane wreckage was hauled off to a hangar at the airport.
Ritchie Valens grave, San Fernando, California
Valens was put on a train to Southern California. By the weekend, funerals were conducted for all four of the deceased, family members and fans still in a state of shock.
Crash site today, Clear Lake, Iowa
The site of the crash is now a makeshift shrine and pilgrimage site despite the fact that it is situated on private property. Alfred Juhl sold his land in the early sixties to another local family, the Nicholas’. Over time they have erected a simple memorial to the musicians, as well as Roger Peterson on the exact spot along the fence line where the plane came to a halt. To guide those interested in finding the spot they have erected a sculpture on the highway resembling Buddy’s horn rimmed glasses, marking the path that leads to the site. Every year they purposely do not plant corn or soybeans on the path or in the vicinity of the markers, encouraging visitors to access this remarkable spot at no charge. And from the very first days after the crash, locals have noticed that people do come to the site, first just a trickle from the region but today, over sixty years later, by the thousands from all over the world,
Possessing a 167 IQ, admitted to Harvard University at age 16, a uniquely talented mathematician, this former Berkeley college professor became the subject of the longest and most expensive investigation in FBI history.
Ted’s high school yearbook photo.
As a youngster, Ted did develop a precocious interest in reading, math and science, his mother reading to him articles from Scientific American that he could comprehend by the time he was six. He excelled in grade school but even at this young age was determined to avoid contact with others, usually spending time by himself in his room with the door shut, especially when visitors came to his home.
Math Club in high school, second from left, standing.
Kaczynski moved on to Evergreen Park Community High School. On paper, he might have seemed to be the model student. He joined the school band playing the trombone, and became a member of the math, coin, biology and German clubs. Classmates described him as the smartest kid in his class. But his inability to fit in socially and his self imposed isolation from any normal high school activities like sock hops and athletic events underlined his almost stereotypical profile as the quintessential nerd, complete with glasses, pencil pocket protector, slight physical stature, and painfully shy personality.
With Ted, Sr. and David.
Ted Kaczynski was born on May 22, 1942 in Chicago, Illinois. His father, Theodore, Ted, Sr. spent much of his adult working life as a sausage maker in a factory owned by a relative.
The 1994 composite that intrigued the nation.
The most distinct aspect of this particular attack was that, for the first time, an eyewitness observed the Unabomber in the act. An FBI sketch artist immediately put together a composite that was deemed unsatisfactory. Then a freelance artist was hired to try again. Both of these sketches were only used on a local Sacramento and very limited national basis, the FBI still insisting on not publicizing a potential serial bomber. The secretary also continually maintained that the two original sketches did not really resemble the man she saw. It would not be until 1994, when public awareness was already rampant and the FBI, still no closer to solving the case and knowing that the sketches they had were inaccurate, that a third sketch was developed and released, this time the much more familiar composite, which became a popular culture icon. This rendition, by veteran criminal sketch artist Jeanne Boylan featured a hooded, grim looking man, with curly hair, a strong chin and very large, aviator sunglasses. Her Unabomber would quickly become ubiquitous and greatly add to the criminal’s mystique.
Possessing a 167 IQ, admitted to Harvard University at age 16, a uniquely talented mathematician, this former Berkeley college professor became the subject of the longest and most expensive investigation in FBI history.
Kaczynski’s drivers license.
But Kaczynski had another motive for heading to Chicago. Before he left Montana on a Greyhound bus, he constructed the first of his explosive devices. He meant to send it to a professor at RPI, but when he got to Chicago in late May of 1978, the box wouldn’t fit in a mailbox so he merely left it at the University of Illinois-at Chicago in between two parked cars, the device eventually returned to the professor believed to have mailed via the professor’s presumed return address at Northwestern University. But Kaczynski was disappointed when there was not any media mention of what happened with this device. After leaving the device he showed up at his parents’ house without any specific notice.
Unabomber wanted poster.
Because a fatality finally occurred, the FBI would not have sole jurisdiction in the ensuing investigation. The homicide division of the Sacramento police department also became involved but immediately found the situation frustrating. Despite their belief that the more publicity about the bomber that was released to the public the better, the Sacramento police were told that, no, the FBI did not want to alert the Unabomber to the fact that they knew of his existence. The local police felt that the FBI was more concerned with the fact that after ten years of bombings, the FBI had no idea who the perpetrator was. The Bureau’s explanation was illogical in that by stamping FC on each bomb the killer was trying to let them know that he was responsible for numerous attacks. This would not be the first FBI investigation that was driven as much by public relations as it was by criminal investigation. Within weeks Sacramento homicide found themselves being excluded from meetings and ignored. Both they and the FBI got nowhere in trying to even begin to figure out who killed Hugh Scrutton.
David Kaczynski as an adult.
In Schenectady, in mid-1995, David Kaczynski was now the assistant director of the Equinox Youth Shelter, an institution that catered to teenagers. In the summer of 1995, With the high profile of the Unabomber pervading popular media, his wife began suggesting that Ted might have something to do with the bombings. She read that the FBI maintained that the Unabomber grew up in Chicago, spent time in Berkeley and had at least recently travelled to Salt Lake City. Linda Patrik had never met Ted, but was aware of his extreme animosity towards her, had read his correspondence with David and had lengthy conversations with her husband, attempting to convince him that Ted was mentally ill. At first he dismissed the notion, but, as much out of curiosity, he eventually got a hold of the manifesto to see if it resonated in any way. At the same time, Linda got a copy of the initial portion of the manifesto online as the Union College library’s printed copies had been stolen. After the pair read even a small part of the screed, they were both alarmed. Subsequently, unable to dismiss Ted as the perpetrator of these acts, David then went back and documented when he had sent Ted money for loans. It turned out that the devices that killed Thomas Mosser and Gilbert Murray were sent within one month and three months respectively from when checks were sent to Ted.
Kaczynski minutes after his arrest at a cabin rented by the FBI.
Kaczynski had a habit of not letting strangers inside his cabin, usually stepping outside if necessary and shutting the door behind him. This time, he did not even fully emerge but hesitated with the door open while Burns distracted him with conversation. The Forest Service agent was close enough to grab him by the wrist and after a brief struggle all three men were able to get Kaczynski into handcuffs. He was immediately conveyed to a nearby rented cabin and although talkative, refused to answer any questions about the Unabomber case.
Mug shot.
Ted Kaczynski was indicted by a grand jury in June of 1996, on ten counts concerning four of the bombings, including the fatal bombings of Hugh Scrutton, Tom Mosser and Gilbert Murray. Because these bombs either exploded in or were sent from Sacramento, California, Ted was transported to Sacramento, where he would stand trial after being pronounced mentally fit. If convicted, Kaczynski was potentially subject to the death penalty an outcome that his two public defenders were desperate to avoid.
Prison photo taken at Supermax
Predictably, Ted Kaczynski, unlike most of his Florence counterparts, including Timothy McVeigh, Ramzi Youssef, Eric Rudolph, shoe bomber Richard Reid, and Zacarious Moussauai, almost seemed to flourish in his new environment. His cell is small, but still larger than the freezing, soot filled shack that was home for 25 years. He has published several book length collections of essays and commentary with the aid of University of Michigan-Dearborn philosophy professor David Skrbina. His correspondence with over 400 individuals and materials relevant to his case was donated to the University of Michigan and is archived in a special collection. Unlike the photographs at the time of his arrest, current official mugshots depict him as well groomed with a pleasant demeanor.
Adolf Hitler intended the 1936 Berlin Olympics as a coming out party for his Aryan Master Race. African-American Jesse Owens crashed the venue by winning four gold medals.
Jesse Owens 1936
At the Penn Relays, he won the long jump and the 100 meter dash. Unfortunately for Eulace Peacock, the sprinter completely tore his hamstring during a preliminary heat, an injury so severe that Peacock was unable to make the 1936 Olympic Games.
Jesse Owens and Ralph Metcalfe, Olympic trials, 1936
Owens qualified easily, winning the 100 and 200 meter sprint and the long jump competition at the Olympic trials at Randall’s Island. His chief American competition came from Ralph Metcalfe in the 100 and Mack Robinson in the 200, Robinson the older brother of future Brooklyn Dodger, Jackie Robinson. Eighteen black Americans qualified for the US Olympic team, two of them women, almost four times the number of African-American competitors at the 1932 Olympic games in Los Angeles.
Jesse Owens wins 100 meters at Berlin.
For a gold medal in the 100 meters, Jesse Owens would have to win four consecutive races, but the competition in Monday’s first two heats was minimal, several sprinters in the Big Ten much tougher competition. Jesse cruised easily to victory, in the first heat by seven yards and the quarter finals by four yards, breaking his own world record in a time of 10.2 seconds. While Owens victories were not a surprise, what was astonishing was the response of the crowd when his name was announced and after he crossed the tape in first place. Anticipating that a German crowd politically attuned to the current Nazi master race theories would ignore or even vent hostility toward a Black American, instead the massive crowd roared their approval.
Hitler enters Berlin Olympic Stadium
Elsewhere in the stadium, Two German athletes were generating their own excitement. Hans Woelke and Ottilie “Tilly” Fleischer won gold in the men’s shot put and women’s discus, respectively, the first track and field Olympic gold medals ever won by Germany. Afterwards, they were summoned to Hitler’s personal box, where both were personally congratulated by Hitler and Hermann Goering. Later in the afternoon, when three Finns swept the medals in the 10,000 meters distance race, they were also invited to Hitler’s box and congratulated.
Hitler reviewing stand, Leni Riefenstahl visible to the right.
But by the time the event concluded, and with the weather getting progressively colder with rain starting to fall, Adolf Hitler left the arena before the high jump medals ceremony and without a personal invitation to the black American Johnson. This did not go unnoticed especially by the American press who focused the first day’s coverage on the perceived snub. It also was noticed by Henri de Baillet-Latour, the President of the International Olympic Committee, who was hoping to lower the volume on politics and did not want Hitler to become the focal point of the current games. He is said to have either forbidden Hitler to personally congratulate winners or to have told Hitler that he needed to congratulate every winner, regardless of race or country of origin. The most popular interpretation is that Hitler, figuring that at least one black man, Jesse Owens was a shoe in to win at least one medal, then decided to stop publicly congratulating any of the winners.
Jesse Owens and Luz Long after competition, 1936
Later that afternoon, at 4:30 he participated in the long jump semi-final that served to eliminate ten of the remaining sixteen competitors. Both Owens and Luz Long broke the existing Olympic record, jumping well over 25 feet to the delight of the crowd and setting up a climactic final. Owens faulted on his first jump of the finals and his German competitor regressed to 25 feet, four inches but on his second jump Long pressed Owens to the limit with a leap of 25 feet, 10 inches. Owens responded like a true champion establishing a new Olympic record with a jump of 26 feet. When Long faulted on his third and last try, Owens had won his second gold. Not to leave anything on the table, his final attempt measured 26 feet, 5.5 inches another Olympic record. Long was the first to congratulate him after the American landed in the sand, the crowd also roaring over this exceptional feat. Together, the two athletes walked on the track arm in arm, in clear view of the spectators including Adolf Hitler.
Luz Long behind Jesse Owens, Long Jump medals ceremony, 1936
But, after sharing this moment of sportsmanship, Long was conveyed to a private room under the stands where he was personally greeted and congratulated by Hitler and his entourage. There would no such interaction by Hitler with Jesse Owens or any other black member of the American contingent. Hitler did also privately meet and greet with Helen Stephens, the 18 year old American phenomenon who won the Womens 100 meters, underlining Hitler’s apparent desire to ignore any success on the part of Black Americans, even unofficially.
