On March 1st, 1932, Charles and Anne Lindbergh’s 20-month old son, Charles Lindbergh III, was kidnapped from the family’s home in Hopewell, New Jersey. The ensuing months begot a strange tale of con men, mob figures, ransom notes, and other details more numerous than can be discussed here. A nation in the depths of the Great Depression would become enthralled in the event so heavily reported that writer H.L. Mencken dubbed it “the biggest story since the Resurrection.”
Charles
Lindbergh was one of the most famous Americans of his generation. He
garnered the world's attention in May, 1927 when he became the first
person to make a solo, non-stop flight across the Atlantic Ocean.
Since he was a reserve officer in the U.S. Army Air Corps, Congress
saw fit to award him the Medal of Honor. He was 25 years old. He
married Ann Morrow in 1929 and their first son, Charles, was born the
next year.
The Lindbergh Baby, as the couple’s son came to be known, went missing on the evening of March 1st when the family’s nanny found the child absent from his nursery at 10pm. Charles Lindbergh immediately searched the house and the surrounding grounds, which led to the discovery of a ladder on the ground below the nursery’s second floor window. He also discovered a letter on the windowsill, but did not open it in the hope that it might contain the fingerprints of the kidnapper.
Local police soon arrived and were followed by the New Jersey State Police. It was at this early hour that the investigation began to break down. The property was not marked off, meaning that policemen and reporters were soon walking in areas potentially containing clues. No fingerprint evidence was found on the ransom envelope; when it was opened, the poorly written note inside demanded $50,000 and said that instructions for delivery would be sent in 4-5 days. The note also demanded that the police not become involved. $50,000 was a huge sum of money in 1932, equivalent to almost $800,000 today.
Lindbergh’s concern for his son’s safety lead him to make many rash decisions and follow many leads without telling the police or, later, the FBI. His advisers initially told him that the Mafia had been involved in the kidnapping, so he contacted two speakeasy owners who were reputed to have mob ties. They turned out to also be working for a New York newspaper, which bought a copy of the ransom note from them. The distinct markings on the note were soon public knowledge, meaning that anyone now had the ability to pose as the kidnapper.
The Lindberghs eventually came to trust a man named John Condon, who became the go-between for the family and the kidnappers. On April 1, Condon received a letter claiming the kidnappers were ready to receive their payment, but that the ransom was now $70,000 since the police were involved. The ransom was delivered to a cemetery by Condon and Lindbergh, who were left a note claiming that the child was being held aboard a boat named The Nelly in Martha’s Vineyard. No such boat existed. The Lindberghs had been fooled.
Six weeks later, the body of a toddler was found in the woods about five miles from the Lindbergh home. It was immediately identified by the Lindberghs and the child’s nanny as being that of Charles Lindbergh III. However, the body was badly decomposed and even the child’s physician later said that there was no way he could have identified the child beyond a certainty.
With their child supposedly dead, the Lindbergh’s only hope was to catch his killer. They hoped to do this by use of the ransom money, which was composed of marked bills and gold certificates. The serial numbers had been sent around to any public place in the area where they might turn up. On September 18, 1934, an alert gas station attendant found one of the bills mixed in with others that a customer had used to buy gas. He wrote down the license plate number of the car and called the police. This soon led to the arrest of a German immigrant, Bruno Hauptmann.
A search of Hauptmann’s home turned up $15,000 of the ransom money. As with the Lindbergh home two years earlier, the house was not secured and reporters roamed the place freely. Hauptmann was arrested and charged with extortion and murder. The trial was held in Flemington, New Jersey, a small town that was soon overrun with reporters and curious citizens. Unable to afford an attorney, Hauptmann accepted a British newspaper's offer to hire one for him---a man named Edward J. Reilly. People who knew his practice called him “Deathhouse Riley” because so many of his clients ended up on death row.
Between his incompetent defense team and public pressure to find someone guilty of what was being called the crime of the century, Hauptmann never stood a chance. There was significant circumstantial evidence linking him to the crime, but this is not supposed to be enough by itself to convict a person of murder in the United States, then or now. Despite a lack of his fingerprints at the scene and no prosecution witnesses able to directly tie him to the crime, Hauptmann was convicted on both counts and sentenced to death. His appeals process netted the same outcome. Hauptmann refused a last-minute offer to have his sentence commuted to life in prison in exchange for a full confession.
Bruno Hauptmann was executed on April 3, 1936. The Lindbergh family donated their New Jersey estate to charity and moved to Europe to escape the media spotlight. They returned to America in 1939. Soon after and probably because of the Lindbergh kidnapping, the United States made kidnapping a federal crime. It remains so to this day.
The Lindbergh Baby, as the couple’s son came to be known, went missing on the evening of March 1st when the family’s nanny found the child absent from his nursery at 10pm. Charles Lindbergh immediately searched the house and the surrounding grounds, which led to the discovery of a ladder on the ground below the nursery’s second floor window. He also discovered a letter on the windowsill, but did not open it in the hope that it might contain the fingerprints of the kidnapper.
Local police soon arrived and were followed by the New Jersey State Police. It was at this early hour that the investigation began to break down. The property was not marked off, meaning that policemen and reporters were soon walking in areas potentially containing clues. No fingerprint evidence was found on the ransom envelope; when it was opened, the poorly written note inside demanded $50,000 and said that instructions for delivery would be sent in 4-5 days. The note also demanded that the police not become involved. $50,000 was a huge sum of money in 1932, equivalent to almost $800,000 today.
Lindbergh’s concern for his son’s safety lead him to make many rash decisions and follow many leads without telling the police or, later, the FBI. His advisers initially told him that the Mafia had been involved in the kidnapping, so he contacted two speakeasy owners who were reputed to have mob ties. They turned out to also be working for a New York newspaper, which bought a copy of the ransom note from them. The distinct markings on the note were soon public knowledge, meaning that anyone now had the ability to pose as the kidnapper.
The Lindberghs eventually came to trust a man named John Condon, who became the go-between for the family and the kidnappers. On April 1, Condon received a letter claiming the kidnappers were ready to receive their payment, but that the ransom was now $70,000 since the police were involved. The ransom was delivered to a cemetery by Condon and Lindbergh, who were left a note claiming that the child was being held aboard a boat named The Nelly in Martha’s Vineyard. No such boat existed. The Lindberghs had been fooled.
Six weeks later, the body of a toddler was found in the woods about five miles from the Lindbergh home. It was immediately identified by the Lindberghs and the child’s nanny as being that of Charles Lindbergh III. However, the body was badly decomposed and even the child’s physician later said that there was no way he could have identified the child beyond a certainty.
With their child supposedly dead, the Lindbergh’s only hope was to catch his killer. They hoped to do this by use of the ransom money, which was composed of marked bills and gold certificates. The serial numbers had been sent around to any public place in the area where they might turn up. On September 18, 1934, an alert gas station attendant found one of the bills mixed in with others that a customer had used to buy gas. He wrote down the license plate number of the car and called the police. This soon led to the arrest of a German immigrant, Bruno Hauptmann.
A search of Hauptmann’s home turned up $15,000 of the ransom money. As with the Lindbergh home two years earlier, the house was not secured and reporters roamed the place freely. Hauptmann was arrested and charged with extortion and murder. The trial was held in Flemington, New Jersey, a small town that was soon overrun with reporters and curious citizens. Unable to afford an attorney, Hauptmann accepted a British newspaper's offer to hire one for him---a man named Edward J. Reilly. People who knew his practice called him “Deathhouse Riley” because so many of his clients ended up on death row.
Between his incompetent defense team and public pressure to find someone guilty of what was being called the crime of the century, Hauptmann never stood a chance. There was significant circumstantial evidence linking him to the crime, but this is not supposed to be enough by itself to convict a person of murder in the United States, then or now. Despite a lack of his fingerprints at the scene and no prosecution witnesses able to directly tie him to the crime, Hauptmann was convicted on both counts and sentenced to death. His appeals process netted the same outcome. Hauptmann refused a last-minute offer to have his sentence commuted to life in prison in exchange for a full confession.
Bruno Hauptmann was executed on April 3, 1936. The Lindbergh family donated their New Jersey estate to charity and moved to Europe to escape the media spotlight. They returned to America in 1939. Soon after and probably because of the Lindbergh kidnapping, the United States made kidnapping a federal crime. It remains so to this day.
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