The Mammoth Book of Celebrity Murders (71 page)

Throughout the ordeal Lindbergh and his family had been a constant source of media speculation, and if anything the arrest of Hauptmann sent the media into a frenzy. The imminent trial of the
“Lindbergh kidnapper” had the media and the public baying for blood – a child had been killed and the family of an American hero ruined. Public opinion was fierce and people just
couldn’t get enough of the riveting drama which was unfolding day by day in the newspapers. Lindbergh’s trauma though became a pawn in the editors’ bid to win what had become a
hard-fought battle in a circulation war – they assumed the right to embellish their stories and worse still, invent news. The police had already been critical of the newspapers throughout the
ransom negotiations, and plans to meet the kidnappers were hampered when papers got wind of the arrangements and made them their front-page story. The behaviour of the press reached an all-time low
after the child’s body was discovered three months after the kidnapping. In an appalling and callous act, photographers broke in to the morgue and took pictures of the badly decomposed body.
By the time Hauptmann was arrested for the kidnapping he was declared guilty by the press, who hadn’t wasted any time in delivering their version of events to the waiting public. Reporters
resorted to dubious journalistic practices to enable them to get ahead of the pack, in some cases paying the police for inside information. Indeed one daily newspaper actually paid defence lawyer,
Edward J. Reilly, of Brooklyn, $10,000 to defend Hauptmann – in return they were to receive inside information on the progress of the case and in particular, Hauptmann’s defence. Reilly
though was aware that he was up against it and concluded that he would be unable to handle such a high-profile case alone, turning to three New Jersey lawyers, Lloyd Fischer, Egbert Rosecrans and
Frederick Pope, for assistance.

The streets around the courthouse, including those at the back of the building, were packed with people, the whole area being described as having a carnival atmosphere. In scenes more
reminiscent of the current time, posters were on sale outside the courthouse and replica “Hauptmann” ladders apparently sold very well. Bets were taken at the local betting office,
ranging from the outcome of the case to how long it would take before a verdict was announced. Every spare room within a 10-mile radius of the courthouse had been taken to house the hordes of
press, newscasters, magazine writers and those bloodthirsty, morbid members of the public who wanted the chance to see the Lindbergh kidnapper in the flesh. The public’s fury was such that if
Hauptmann had been released onto the streets he would have been beaten to death within an instant – if he did not already know, he was safer inside his prison cell.

The trial started on 2 January 1935; Lindbergh was present throughout the trial. The specially selected jury consisted of six men and six women, representing a fair cross-section of people from
a range of backgrounds and age groups. In command of the proceedings sat the experienced Justice Trenchard.

By the time the case had been brought to court, Hauptmann had been in solitary confinement for over three months and had obviously lost weight; his appearance must have been a shock for his
wife, who was also in the courtroom. She too had run the gauntlet of the public’s outrage, and would do so on each visit to the courthouse.

At the end of each day the jurors were escorted to a local hotel and were sworn not to discuss the case; they were also banned from reading newspapers, watching television and were not allowed
to listen to the radio. Even so it was virtually impossible for them not to notice the several thousand-strong crowd gathered outside the courthouse each day, chanting, “Kill
Hauptmann.”

The foreman of the jury was Charles Walton Sr, who had been interviewed by the press prior to the trial. When asked if he had made up his mind regarding Hauptmann’s innocence or guilt, he
replied, “Not exactly.” When asked to elaborate he added, “Not more than anyone else.” It was common knowledge that Walton had made these comments prior to the trial, so it
was assumed that Judge Trenchard also knew of them. It appeared therefore that the need for a fair trial, based on the jurors’ impartiality, was not a requirement of what had been dubbed the
trial of the century.

The prosecution’s case was built around the facts provided by the police, namely the discovery of the $14,600 worth of ransom bills which had been found hidden in Hauptmann’s garage;
Hauptmann’s cupboard had Dr John Condon’s address and telephone number written discreetly on the wall, hidden by a shelf; Hauptmann was identified by Dr Condon as the man he had met in
Woodlawn Cemetery in March 1932, and was the same man who he had given the ransom money to in St Raymond’s Cemetery on 2 April 1932. The next damning piece of evidence was the wood found in
Hauptmann’s attic which matched the wood used to make the kidnap ladder. A “wood expert” was called, Mr Arthur Koehler, who testified that a quantity of the wood which was used to
make the rungs of the ladder had been sold to a lumber yard near to Hauptmann’s home. He also suggested that the rails of the ladder were made from floorboarding similar to that found in
Hauptmann’s attic. The handwriting on the ransom notes was examined by handwriting experts, who, after comparing them with samples of handwriting provided by Hauptmann, testified that the
ransom notes were written by the accused.

When Lindbergh took the stand he was asked to recall the events in the cemetery, when the ransom money was handed over. He confirmed that he had very clearly heard a man’s voice coming
from the cemetery. When asked if he had heard the voice since that day he replied, “Yes, I have. That was Hauptmann’s voice.” By the time Lindbergh’s comments were reported
in the press, the public appeared to have made its collective mind up – Hauptmann was guilty and they wanted revenge. The daily visits to the court became an ordeal for Hauptmann and his
defence team, all of whom came under verbal attack. If the police had turned their back on Hauptmann for a single moment he would surely have been the subject of a public lynching.

As the trial continued, Hauptmann’s plight became worse as three separate witnesses gave evidence that they had seen Hauptmann in the area of the Lindbergh estate at the time of the
kidnapping. The first eyewitness called, Mr Amandus Hochmuth, who was 87 years old by the time the case came to trial, lived in a house which had a view of the lane leading to Lindbergh’s
home. He described how he was sitting on his front porch when he noticed a passing car with a three-section ladder inside. When asked if he had seen the driver, he replied that he had and pointed
at Hauptmann, who sat dejectedly in the dock. A second sighting of Hauptmann was made the week before the baby’s disappearance, near to Princeton Airport. Mr Charles Rossiter described how a
car had stalled on a road near the airport. When he approached the car to offer some assistance, the driver declined; he too confirmed that the driver was Hauptmann. The third person to provide an
eyewitness testimony had even more damning evidence to offer. Mr Millard Whited, who lived within a mile of the Lindberghs’ home, had noticed Hauptmann apparently crawling out of the
undergrowth on the roadside as he drove past just days before the kidnapping. He added that he had seen the accused again a day later, this time standing at a crossroads, looking as if he was
checking the area out.

As the main defence witness, Hauptmann was unable to explain why his handwriting was so similar to that on the ransom notes or to produce alibis for the dates in question. Indeed his defence
attorney, Mr Fisher, struggling to provide any meaningful retort, suggested that the defence were unable to provide any expert witnesses because of a lack of funds, claiming that all of the
defendant’s money had been confiscated. The prosecution lawyer, David Wilentz, objected to the defence using that information as part of the case, to which Judge Trenchard agreed, declaring
that it was irrelevant to the trial. It appeared once again, that in this particular case, justice did not require a level playing field; unfortunately for the defence, it was them being forced to
play uphill all the time.

The Judge appeared to agree with the prosecution team so regularly that some observers felt he was heavily on their side. Some of the information provided in the trial could well have been lost
on the accused as his native tongue was German and his English skills were at best mediocre. The court however did not feel that the accused had to understand what was being said or what was going
on and therefore denied him the benefit of an interpreter. He therefore found it difficult to keep up with the trial and struggled when cross-examined. He was hardly given time to work out what the
question was before prosecutor Wilentz fired another one at the puzzled Hauptmann. The Judge never stepped in to slow the proceedings down and when the defence objected, or asked for extra
clarification, they were promptly overruled.

The trial finally closed on 13 February, after the summarizing statements had been heard. The jury were retired and asked to consider their verdict, but quickly returned with their response.
Under direction from Judge Trenchard, the clerk of the court stood to address the jury. “Members of the jury,” he asked, “have you agreed upon your verdict?”

“We have,” replied each of the 12 jurors in turn.

“Mr Foreman, what say you? Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty. We find the defendant, Richard Hauptmann guilty of murder in the first degree.”

A ripple of agreement spread throughout the courtroom before the Judge turned his attention upon Hauptmann. “The defendant may stand,” he said, and Hauptmann stood up between the two
guards.

“Richard Hauptmann, you have been convicted of murder in the first degree. The sentence of the court is that you, the said Richard Hauptmann, suffer death at a time and place, and in the
manner provided by law. And the court will hand to the Sheriff a warrant appointing the week beginning Monday, the eighteenth of March, 1935, as the week within which such sentence must be executed
in the manner provided by law. You are now remanded to the custody of the Sheriff.”

The handcuffed Hauptmann did not show any emotion when the verdict was read, not even looking at his terrified wife. He simply stared ahead, as if in a trance, before being lead away to the cell
by police guards. At that moment the courtroom bell began to toll, announcing to everyone outside that a guilty verdict had been reached – but it was soon drowned out by the crowd as they
roared their support for the outcome.

Hauptmann did launch an appeal, always proclaiming his innocence, but it failed. The date for his execution was finally set for 3 April 1936. The execution went ahead as planned at 8.47 p.m.,
within the confines of the state prison in Trenton, New Jersey. It was carried out by Robert G. Elliott, the executioner who had operated the electric chair during the executions of Sacco and
Vanzetti nine years before. Reporters were again on stand-by, hoping for a last-minute confession from Hauptmann, but he proclaimed his innocence to the last.

Whilst the appeals process was going ahead the Lindberghs and their new son, Jon, arrived in England for an extended holiday. They could not escape the press though, and found themselves
besieged by paparazzi everywhere they went. It seemed that they were still hot news, especially their new son Jon, who everyone wanted to get a glimpse of. One daily paper ran a front-page headline
claiming that the Lindberghs were sailing to England in search of a safer home, falsely stating that Jon had been the subject of threats. The story of the forced exile received mix reviews in the
press, some editorials sympathizing with their plight, others not. The truth is that Lindbergh had endured the undiluted attention of an out-of-control press, throughout which his own countrymen
had become obsessed with his family’s every move. He wanted to enjoy his post-trial time out of the spotlight, and England, with its more reserved culture, was able to provide the environment
in which he could enjoy a much lower profile.

Meanwhile, not everybody was convinced that Hauptmann was responsible for the kidnapping and murder of the Lindberghs’ child, indeed public opinion began to shift as it became clear that
the media had provided a very one-sided account of the proceedings, promoting the notion that Hauptmann was guilty from practically the moment he was arrested. Hauptmann’s wife continued to
declare his innocence, standing by her long-dead husband until her death in 1994. In her nineties when she died, she had strongly maintained that he was an innocent man.

The celebrity status of the Lindbergh family, which had created the furore during Hauptmann’s trial, suddenly began to turn against them. The public’s fickle opinion turned against
them when they were fed a new line of information on America’s one-time hero. Tiring of reports describing the Lindberghs’ high living, the final twist came when it was reported that
Lindbergh had become an admirer of the German Luftwaffe, even being awarded a medal by Hermann Goering. He was reported to have suggested that the rest of Europe had no defence against the mighty
and admirable Germans, though he had little to say regarding the fascist dictatorship that was intent on war.

As the tide of opinion was turning against Lindbergh, the public began to see Hauptmann as a quiet, unassuming, happily married man, with a devoted wife. Lindbergh by contrast appeared arrogant,
affluent and worst of all, unpatriotic. Many pages have been written regarding the possibility of Hauptmann’s innocence, although none produced the quality of evidence used to convict him.
The fact is that Hauptmann was put to death on the strength of the evidence, but the concern is that the outcome would have been the same had the evidence not supported the conviction. There
wasn’t a bigger case in America – everyone wanted to have someone pay for what had happened. The glowing embers of anger were fanned by the press, whose sole goal was to sell more
papers, but what they really sold out was justice – Hauptmann was not given a fair trial; the jury had already decided upon the verdict before the first piece of evidence was shown; the Judge
was biased and supported the prosecution; and the defence were left with a bankrupt client, deprived of the funds needed to pay for a fair trial.