For the Thrill of It: Leopold, Loeb, and the Murder That Shocked Jazz Age Chicago (37 page)

“Now, just a minute,” Robert Crowe interrupted.

“Well, before…”

“Just a moment,” Crowe interrupted again. “Is there a plea of guilty entered here by two sane men or is the defense entering a plea of guilty by two insane men?…”

“Now, I ask counsel not to interrupt until I finish…”

“I know, but what I want to know is whether the contention is here the boys are sane or insane?”

Crowe’s implication was obvious. The defendants had pleaded guilty. By their plea they admitted responsibility for their actions. If they admitted responsibility, they admitted their sanity. Why would the defense present evidence on their mental condition if the defendants had admitted their sanity?

“I am not to be sidetracked,” Bachrach replied testily, glancing across the aisle to look at Crowe, “we ask counsel for the other side to assume that we are in good faith…. What we desire to do is to determine the degree of mental responsibility of the defendants. When the court hears all of the evidence it is his duty to fix the penalty. I think it comes with bad grace for the state’s attorney to try to shut me off at this time…. What these alienists that we have talked to want to do is to meet with the alienists of the state and talk it over with them and see if they can iron out whatever differences there may be among them. Maybe our alienists will be won over to their side; maybe it will be the other way, but at any rate they want to present a joint matter.”
¹¹

It seemed a futile proposal, which Crowe would certainly disdain. Crowe had nothing to gain and everything to lose. Any hint that the defendants were insane necessarily reduced their responsibility for the murder. And if the defense could argue that the defendants were insane, why, then they would be committed to the asylum. Crowe had boasted, again and again, that he had a hanging case. Why would he torpedo his own case by agreeing to a joint report on the defendants’ mental condition and, by implication, conceding to the defense that Leopold and Loeb suffered from mental illness?

“Well, the court,” Caverly interjected, “of course…has no power to require the state’s attorney to do that.”

And if anyone had any doubts about the matter, Crowe answered Bachrach’s petition with as definitive a statement as it was possible for him to make.

“The state’s attorney,” Crowe declared, “is in a position to prove by evidence beyond all reasonable doubt that these boys are not only guilty, but that they are absolutely sane under the law and should be hanged, and the state will introduce its evidence beginning Wednesday morning to that effect.”

“All right,” Caverly banged his gavel on the bench to conclude the proceedings. “We will suspend, gentlemen, then, until Wednesday morning at 10 o’clock. All be here promptly at ten.”
¹²

N
ATHAN AND
R
ICHARD, BACK INSIDE
the Cook County jail, chatted with the reporters in an outside corridor. Richard was in a giddy mood. He had a sense of nervous relief, now that his first court appearance was behind him. How much coverage would they get in the evening newspapers, he wondered? Would they make the front page?

A reporter for the
Chicago Herald and Examiner
asked if Darrow had surprised them by entering a guilty plea. Or had they known beforehand?

“We’re not allowed to say,” Nathan spoke rapidly, trying to cut Richard off before he said something foolish. “Ask us something else.”

“I bet we’re all over the front page,” Richard gloated. His moment in the spotlight had left him light-headed—it had given him a sudden rush of adrenaline. “I wish I had the papers. There certainly was a commotion when Mr. Darrow moved to plead guilty…”

“Better not talk about that,” Nathan interrupted, angrily.

“What is it that the judge says when it’s all over,” Richard continued. “The court finds you…”

“Shut up!”
¹³

I
N HIS OFFICE ON THE
third floor of the Criminal Court Building, Robert Crowe insisted to the reporters that Darrow’s plea would not save Nathan and Richard from the gallows.

“The fact that the two murderers have thrown themselves upon the mercy of the court does not in any way alleviate the enormity of the crime they committed.”

Darrow’s case was a contradiction in terms, Crowe argued. How could Darrow introduce psychiatric evidence showing insanity and simultaneously introduce a plea of guilty? An insane person did not know the difference between right and wrong, could not be responsible for his or her actions, and was therefore not guilty of the intent to commit a crime.

“The defense is not permitted to introduce any insanity testimony because the law states that a plea of guilty to a fact automatically presumes the defendant to be sane…. For the defense to say they attempt to introduce alienists to testify regarding the mental condition of the two slayers would be going clearly outside the rules of evidence. There can be no insanity for a person who pleads guilty…. There is but one punishment which will satisfy the prosecution,” Crowe concluded. “We will demand they be hanged.”
¹⁴

Clarence Darrow was in a reflective mood when he, too, met with the Chicago reporters after the adjournment. “I think we did the best thing we could for these two boys…. We have thrown ourselves upon the mercy of the court because I firmly believe that nowhere in this broad land could there be gotten together a fair-minded and impartial jury to try the case.” There was no trickery about it, he insisted; there was no intent to have them released into society again. Most certainly they would spend the rest of their days in prison. The reporters repeated Crowe’s assertion that the defense could not introduce psychiatric testimony, but Darrow was not concerned. If Crowe tried to prevent their testimony, the judge would assuredly rule in favor of the defense. “We can go as far as we want to go with insanity evidence, and we probably will.”
¹⁵

22.
THE DEFENSE TEAM.
The defense attorneys confer together before court convenes. From left: Walter Bachrach, Benjamin Bachrach, and Clarence Darrow.

C
ROWE HAD PROMISED TO SPARE
no effort in his crusade to send Leopold and Loeb to the gallows, and on Wednesday, 23 July, at the opening of the hearing, he began to make good on his promise. A large steel filing cabinet, its drawers locked and sealed, stood close to the wall on the right-hand side of the courtroom; it contained exhibits that Crowe intended to show in evidence to the court. In other respects, the scene was a replica of the proceedings two days earlier. Darrow and Benjamin Bachrach sat at the defense table on the left; Crowe and his assistants sat on the right.
¹⁶

The bailiffs had opened the twelve high windows, and the long white curtains stirred in the morning breeze. It promised to be another stiflingly humid day. The sheriff, Peter Hoffman, had thoughtfully placed a large metallic fan on the judge’s desk, facing the audience. It stood still, for the moment, but soon one of the bailiffs would reach forward to turn the switch and send its loud hum into the well of the courtroom.
¹⁷

Flora Franks—her mouth turned downward, her eyes red from weeping, her lips pressed tightly together—took the stand. She glanced occasionally toward her husband, seated on the right, among the spectators, but averted her gaze from the other side of the court where Leopold and Loeb sat two rows behind the defense attorneys.
¹⁸

Sympathy for the victim’s mother seemed almost tangible—it hung heavy over the silent courtroom. Even Richard Loeb seemed regretful. There was a sorrowful expression on his face, and his demeanor was attentive. Nathan Leopold stared at the floor; he seemed too ashamed even to look at the witness.

Robert Crowe had decided to make it brief. He held up Bobby’s brown shoes, then the black-and-white patterned sock that had fallen by the culvert. Flora Franks identified both items: yes, they had belonged to Bobby, and she also recognized the class pin as well as the belt buckle that Crowe showed her.
¹⁹

Later that morning, Jacob Franks took the stand. The old man stumbled slightly as he climbed the steps; he clasped and unclasped his hands nervously, gripping his fingers, as he waited for Joseph Savage, the assistant state’s attorney, to begin asking questions. He, too, could identify Bobby’s shoes, his stocking, belt buckle, and class pin. He recalled his son’s disappearance on May 21 and recounted waiting for the kidnapper to call with instructions for the ransom money.
²⁰

Thirteen more witnesses took the stand that day. Edwin Greshan, Bobby’s uncle, described how he had identified the body at the morgue; Joseph Springer, the coroner’s physician, explained the cause of death as asphyxiation and listed the bruises and scratches on Bobby’s body. Employees at the Rent-A-Car Company told how Nathan took out the dark green Willys-Knight; cashiers and tellers at the Hyde Park State Bank remembered Nathan opening a bank account in the name of Morton Ballard; and the clerks at the Morrison Hotel recalled that Richard Loeb had taken a room there.

In eight days, the state called eighty-two witnesses.

Clarence Darrow protested that this proceeding by the state was redundant: the facts were not in dispute; the defendants had confessed to the crime. Crowe had boasted of his intention to pile up the evidence to show the magnitude of the crime, its planning, and its premeditation; but, Darrow countered, there was only one reason to call so many witnesses. Crowe intended, Darrow continued, to whip up public opinion against the defendants and thus to create such a vengeful and vindictive atmosphere that Caverly would, despite himself, sentence Leopold and Loeb to death. Darrow appealed angrily to Caverly not to allow the state’s attorney to proceed with his long list of witnesses: “the court should not permit for the pure purpose of rehearsing again to this community—to stir up anger and hatred—…details which have nothing to do with this case upon a plea of guilty and of which the community is already aware.” It was, Darrow continued, nothing more than a “lurid painting in this courtroom…made for nothing excepting that a hoarse cry of angry people may somehow reach these chambers.”
²¹

But even if Caverly had agreed with Darrow that Crowe intended to inflame the public with graphic testimony, he could not have done anything about it. The state had as much right as the defense to present its evidence. The state would present evidence in aggravation of punishment; the defense would then present evidence in mitigation.

W
OULD THE DEFENSE CALL
N
ATHAN
and Richard to the stand? The court had heard all the evidence from the state, and now, on Wednesday, 30 July, the defense was ready to present its witnesses.
²²

There was an air of expectation in the court. Either Nathan or Richard might sit in the witness box today; who could say? But the early-morning crowd gathered at the Criminal Court Building, waiting for the doors to open, knew that Clarence Darrow at least would be on the stage that day. Darrow had been largely silent during the presentation of the state’s evidence during the past week. Since he did not dispute the facts and since he was reluctant to prolong the prosecution testimony any more than necessary, neither Darrow nor Benjamin Bachrach had bothered to cross-examine any of Crowe’s witnesses. But now it was Darrow’s turn and a throng of spectators had turned out to see the old lion perform.
²³

Darrow typically paid no attention to his wardrobe, but today he had made an effort. His hair no longer fell haphazardly across his forehead but had been slicked back into place. Ruby Darrow had sent out her husband’s gray suit to be pressed; on this occasion there were no wrinkles or creases. She had also bought Clarence a new powder-blue shirt.
²⁴

Darrow was impatient to begin. He had listened to Crowe’s witnesses for a week, occasionally grumbling at the redundancy of the proceedings, and now he was eager to present the defense testimony to the court.

The defense called William White to the stand. The psychiatrist took his place in the witness box. He carried a black leather briefcase in one hand, and as he sat down, he drew out some typewritten papers and placed the briefcase by his side. White wore a gray suit, tightly buttoned. He seemed aged, older than his fifty-four years; and his eyes burned with impatience—he was ready to begin.
²⁵

Walter Bachrach rose to his feet. Until now, he had deferred to Darrow and to his elder brother, Benjamin, but now, as the defense attorney with an expert knowledge of psychiatry and the law, he was about to take center stage.