chicago juries

Crime & Christie: Art Imitating Life

Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

Troubled by Genevieve Forbes’ snide descriptions of Isabella — which, thanks to the syndication of newspaper articles, extended her coverage from coast to coast and inspired other (though not all) reporters to follow her lead — Isabella’s quintet of lawyers crafted a secondary strategy over and above their legal maneuvering. The plan, reminiscent of George Bernard Shaw’s 1913 play Pygmalion (only with far higher stakes than a simple bet), saw the defense team using the months between the stay of execution and the hearing before the Illinois Supreme Court to transform Isabella. 

Spearheaded by Helen Cirese (the first Italian American female lawyer admitted to the Illinois State Bar) and supported by Margaret Bonelli (the wife of another of Isabella’s lawyers), they sought to neutralize the press’s unsparing criticism of Isabella. Fully aware her appearance played a role in her conviction, Isabella eagerly agreed. Deferring to the duo’s expertise, Isabella allowed a hairdresser to dye and cut her hair into a modern, flattering style. They visited Murderess Row’s cosmetics cabinet, where Isabella was tutored on the artful application of make-up. Next, Helen bought a new dress, silk stockings, a fur coat, and a hat for Isabella to wear during court appearances. 

Well aware that these superficial changes were not enough, Helen, Margaret, and Isabella settled into more exacting lessons. First and foremost, they worked on improving Isabella’s nearly nonexistent English. This not only allowed Isabella to aid in her own defense but also meant she could finally interact with reporters. 

Headlines of a similar nature appeared in all kinds of papers along with photos of Isabela’s “improved” appearance.

Next, Helen tutored Isabella on general American manners and deportment, the lack of which Genevieve Forbes took such a massive issue with (amongst other things). Grunting as a form of communication, while perfectly acceptable when she was growing up, amongst immigrants of similar backgrounds, and family — led to some of the most derogatory descriptions in the press. Hence, Isabella needed to unlearn this practice. Next, Isabella worked at holding back the habit of rocking in place, as this nervous habit also led to disparaging comments. Finally, Helen taught Isabella what was considered “proper” courtroom etiquette — sitting up straight, crossing her ankles, attentively watching the courtroom, and other such (inane) but necessary behaviors. 

While no amount of “Americanization” would ever appease Genevieve Forbes and others of her ilk — it did shift the majority of their remarks from strictly dehumanizing to simple snark. Other reporters, less invested in painting Isabella as an “…old, ugly, Italian peasant woman…”, started penning pieces that were (by comparison) more neutral in tone. Moreover, Isabella’s rapidly improving English meant she could interact with reporters, and she did. Isabella spoke of her babies waiting for her at home, of her innocence, and awareness of how her features played a role in her conviction — all of which helped humanize Isabella to the readers of the various rags around the country.

By the time the Illinois Supreme Court returned with its final ruling in November 1924 (I think), Isabella’s transformation was essentially complete….and gave, as intended, the Assistant States Attorney fits. Gone from the defendant’s chair was the “ugly” Italian woman he steamrolled with the press’s help. Instead, he found a smiling “Americanized” Isabella — surrounded by a bevy of highly competent lawyers. 

Lawyers who not only successfully persuaded the Illinois Supreme Court to overturn Isabella’s conviction and order a new trial for both Isabella and Peter. They also successfully argued the Court to disallow Isabella’s son Charles’s confession, ruling the body presented as the missing Frank Nitti couldn’t actually be proven as being Frank’s and deemed a whole bunch more circumstantial evidence inadmissible. The death knell of Assistant State’s Attorney Smith’s case came on December 2, 1924 — when it was announced Charles Nitti refused to testify against his mother in a second trial. 

A few days later, Smith dropped all charges against Isabella and Peter.

Thanks to Maurine Dallas Watkins’ play and the subsequent musical adaptation, Isabella’s case is now (in)famous. However, after scratching the surface, there’s far more at play in Isabella and Peter’s charge/conviction/successful appeal on first-degree murder charges than just one woman’s appearance….However, thanks to Genevieve Forbes’ unrelenting coverage, Isabella’s features played a far more significant role in her conviction than they should’ve.

Postscript: Frank Nitti’s disappearance and probable murder remain unsolved to this day. One of the background reasons why suspicion initially clung to Isabella was Frank’s brother James and at least one of Isabella’s sons believed Isabella started an affair with Peter before Frank went missing. Furthermore, one of Isabella’s sons contributed money to the prosecution, giving ASA Smith additional incentive to pursue Isabella.

All things being equal, I’ve no clue if Isabella and/or Peter buried Frank Nitti in a shallow grave — but I lean towards not.

However, Isabella believed she knew the author of all: “It was my son, Mike, who was mad because his father wouldn’t give him money to get married on…..Mike would keep still and let me die, so now I’ll tell on him.” Apparently, father and son got into a fistfight over $400 (about $7,250 in today’s money) after Frank refused to lend the hefty sum to his second oldest a few days before his evanescence. Moreover, Mike silenced everyone connected, save his mother (and I’m assuming Peter), by threatening to kill anyone who testified to witnessing said event. 

Actions which don’t exactly scream innocence. 

Though…If Mike did commit patricide, it could explain why Charles peddled the story of dumping their father’s body in the Des Plaines River with Peter. Mike could’ve, endeavoring to cover all his bases, threatened/bullied/cajoled his younger brother into the confession. Granted, this is pure supposition on my part, but Charles coming forward to accuse his mother bothers me. Assuming he wasn’t a vindictive jerk and Isabella didn’t do it — why would Charles come forward with such a tale?

In any case, in an odd twist of fate, on September 10, 1925 — Isabella was forced to visit the State’s Attorney’s office again. Only this time, she reported Peter Crudelle missing. On September 7, after taking a load of vegetables to market, Peter failed to return home with either their truck or the day’s earnings. It’s unclear precisely what happened to him, however, I read a rumor that Peter returned to Italy and married another woman. 

As for Isabella, she married Guiseppe Campobasso on November 2, 1940. Shortly thereafter, the couple became naturalized US citizens and moved to Los Angeles, where they resided (hopefully, happily) until Isabella passed away on December 10, 1957, at the age of 78.

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2024

Crime & Christie: The Court of Public Opinion

Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

Genevieve Forbes did some great writing, but when it came to Isabella? To put it nicely, which is more than she did for Isabella, Genevieve was a sourpuss (as my grandmother would say).

In early July 1923, Isabella Nitti-Crudelle and Peter Crudelle went on trial — pleading not guilty. Whereupon, Isabella drew some singularly harsh criticism from Genevieve Forbes, a prominent female reporter who covered the crime beat for the Chicago Tribune. 

Forbes took exception to basically everything about Isabella, calling her: “…dumb, crouching, animal-like Italian peasant” and “…dirty, disheveled woman…” amongst other derogatory terms. Other reporters picked up this language, calling Isabella: “Dumpy and squat and with no redeeming gift of grace, the dumb-like little peasant woman….creature of primitive physical instincts…mussy twisted hair and swarthy brow so seamed and crinkled with premature marks of age….leathery face and warped figure…” 

A couple of the unflattering photos & drawings of Isabella used by a NUMBER of papers – and – a blurb “explaining” why the jury ruled the way they did.

These dehumanizing descriptions go on and on and on.

By referring to Isabella in such terms, Forbes and the others of her ilk painted Isabella as subhuman and undeserving of compassion, sympathy, or mercy from their readers or the jury. Moreover, by focusing on Isabella’s southern Italian heritage, language, and mannerisms — Forbes tapped into the anti-immigrant sentiment of the day (as exemplified by the Immigration Act of 1924, crafted by a fan of eugenics and a man who thought the US needed a Mussolini type leader to pull the country out of the Great Depression). Which only increased Isabella’s status as unworthy of the leniency shown to the bevy of other accused murderesses who’d come before her. 

Unsurprisingly, Isabella and Peter (who’d practically become a footnote in the newspaper coverage of the crime) were convicted of Frank’s murder and sentenced to hang on October 12, 1923. A punishment that caused a sensation across the country, as Isabella was only the fourth woman ever to receive a death sentence in Illinois. 

While most believed Illinois’s Governor Len Small would commute Isabella’s death sentence to life in prison, which had been done for the two other women before Isabella — it wasn’t a sure thing. In 1845, Illinois’s Governor Thomas Ford failed to intervene on behalf of Elizabeth Reed, who’d hung after being convicted of poisoning her husband. Above and beyond Illinois’s single female execution seventy-eight years earlier, there’d been an uptick around the world of female death sentences being carried out: Dora Wright (1903 Oklahoma), Mary Rogers (1905 Vermont), Mary Farmer (1909 New York), Virginia Christian (1912 Virginia), Pattie Perdue (1922 Mississippi), and, across the pond in England, another cause célèbre murder case resulted in the hanging of Edith Thompson on January 9, 1923.

Even more worrisome, Isabella’s conviction failed to stem the flow of dehumanizing remarks. Many of the reports after Isabella’s date with the hangman was announced made it sound as if Isabella was grateful for her confinement on Murderess Row: “….she seems thankful for the better jail fare with occasional time for play, recreation, and with no worry now for poverty nor endurance of bitter cold.” Whether these comments were meant to assuage the public’s guilt over the state’s mandate of death or to make her execution sound akin to mercy is unclear. What we do know is Isabella was terrified. Alongside these reports of Isabella’s “gratefulness” were stories of her enduring panic attacks, obsessive cleaning & singing (undoubtedly done to try to keep her mind occupied), and at least two suicide attempts.

Thankfully, not everyone shared Genevieve Forbes’s point of view. 

After the death sentence was handed down, one juror’s wife threatened to leave him if Isabella hanged. Another group of women bent on obtaining Isabella’s freedom took Forbes to task for her attacks on Isabella’s appearance and character. Unsurprisingly, Forbes mocked their rebuke in print and labeled their efforts to free Isabella as: “…women’s primitive loyalty to a forlorn sister, down and out, and homely.”

Crucially, besides gaining the sympathy of women around the city and the support of those opposed to the death penalty under any circumstance — Forbes’s inhuman rhetoric and reports of the trial itself inspired five Italian American lawyers (Swanson, De Stefano, Bonilli, Mirabella, and Helen Cirese) to step in and take Isabella’s (and Peter’s) appeal on pro bono. 

First, the legal team took aim at the circumstantial evidence used to convict: Identification of the body — which rested on a single ring, the inconsistencies between Charles Nitti’s confession and the state’s evidence (where he said the body was dumped in a river, yet the body identified as Frank’s was found in a catch basin), and the fact there was another suspect with plenty of motive whose identity was deemed inadmissible during the trial.

However, the main thrust of the quintet of lawyers’ appeal rested on the absolutely abysmal defense mounted by Isabella and Peter’s former trial lawyer, Eugene A. Moran who, the Illinois Supreme Court would later say, “….It is quite clear from an examination of the record that the defendants’ interest would have been much better served with no counsel at all than with the one they had.” 

For example: Despite securing a translator who spoke Barese, the Italian dialect Isabella spoke, Moran exchanged very few words with her prior to stepping into the courtroom — so how could she aid in her own defense? Moreover, during Moran’s cross-examination of Isabella and Peter, he repeatedly asked them questions that could’ve led them to incriminate themselves on the stand. Apparently, it got so bad that at one point, the trial judge stepped in, warning Moran he was harming his client’s defense. (A caution which didn’t alter Moran’s behavior a whit.)

(BTW: Before we paint Moran in villainous colors, according to a couple of recent articles/blog posts, he’d started suffering from some sort of mental health problems around this time. Which could account for this subpar court performance. Though I’ve been unable to verify this information, I thought it worth mentioning.)

Taking all these legal points under consideration, on September 26, 1923, Justice Orrin N. Carr stayed Isabella and Peter’s execution until their appeal could be presented to the Illinois Supreme Court in February 1924.

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2024

Crime & Christie: It’s Not Personal, It’s Just Business

Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

On July 15, 1919, at 5:50 pm, after three ballots — the jury found Vera Trepagnier guilty of manslaughter and fixed a sentence of one year to life in prison. Paul F. Volland’s second ex-wife, Gladys Couch Volland, and his son, Gordon B. Volland, were both in court when the verdict was announced and applauded (metaphorically) the jury for holding Vera accountable for her actions. Unsurprisingly, State’s Attorney Hoyne lauded the victory of ASA Dwight and the jury’s decision. 

So what went wrong? Why did the jury find Vera guilty of manslaughter despite her lawyers following the formula that got 26 other women acquitted? 

Vera blamed the loss on another attorney, Frances E. Spooner — the only lawyer she’d found who agreed to fight the unbalanced contract she’d signed with Paul F. Volland in civil court. In an interview given shortly after her conviction, Vera claimed Spooner hamstrung her defense because she “…had all my papers about the case that led up to the killing, and she left town.” Which could be true? The one and only time I found Spooner’s name linked with Vera’s occurred the day after Vera’s bid for a new trial was denied, on August 16, 1919: When the papers reported Spooner was suing her former client for breach of contract, “…by killing Volland, she brought an end to the case and threw the plaintiff out of a job.” (I’ve no clue how this case ultimately panned out.) 

However, it’s equally possible Vera’s all-male defense team used Spooner as a convenient scapegoat to cover the collective backsides with their client after their loss. Spooner, one of the rare female attorneys in Chicago during this period, would make an easy target in any post-trial blame game.

Weighing in, over 100 years later, I see the scales of recrimination tipping ever so slightly in the direction of Vera’s cadre of lawyers and their decision to rely solely on Vera’s testimony. 

Why? First and foremost, Vera’s account doesn’t quite add up, in my estimation.

While it’s possible Vera’s version of events unfolded exactly as she said……Why would Volland start strangling her for simply refusing to leave his office? Granted, Vera had become a thorn in Volland’s paw. However, until that afternoon, he’d successfully kept her at arm’s length for years through a lack of communication, lawyers, and by using layers of security/secretaries/doormen as a shield. Moreover, if Vera failed to leave Volland’s office because he murdered her (worst case scenario) or she exited under her own power with hand-shaped bruises around her neck, disheveled from a struggle, and gasping — it would’ve been noticed by the office full of people working away in the middle of the day.

Speaking of people, while there weren’t any eyewitnesses other than Vera who saw what happened in Volland’s office, two individuals were close enough to hear some of what was happening inside. Both women spoke of hearing Vera’s voice growing louder and shriller as the interview went on while Volland’s remained low and even. Suggesting it was she, not him, who grew furious as the conversation continued.

Mrs. Gladys Crouch Volland

The defense, in an attempt to shore up Vera’s assertion Volland struck first, claimed Volland was a “wife beater” and “woman-hater” which led to the dissolution of his second marriage. The only problem? Said second wife, Gladys Crouch Volland, still resided in Chicago and was more than willing to testify that her ex-husband never abused her or their daughters, nor was cruelty the reason why she sued for divorce. While it’s possible Gladys was lying, the fact she wasn’t called to the stand or her divorce decree read aloud by the defense — who’d subpoenaed her — suggests they couldn’t scrounge up enough proof that Volland abused his ex-wife to convince the presiding Judge to allow it into evidence. Making it likely that Vera’s attorneys simply spliced the idea into their opening remarks in the hopes that the jury would consider the unsubstantiated claim during their deliberations.

Furthermore, I found an announcement for Volland’s 1904 divorce from Laura Gordon Volland, his first ex-wife. While one of the gossipy articles alluded to money at the root of the marriage’s dissolution, none mentioned cruelty. (And the fact Laura remarried mere days after the finalization of the divorce decree hints at a different set of problems within the union.)

In my humble opinion? Upon realizing Volland wasn’t going to willingly hand back her miniature or write a check for five grand, Vera pulled a revolver on him and that’s when Volland “lept at her” — not the other way around. 

This fine — yet important distinction — is why Billy Flynn, in the musical Chicago, worked so hard to make sure the newspapers reported that Roxie Hart and her lover both reached for the gun. If it came out that Roxie pulled the gun on her boyfriend first, in a fit of rage rather than in self-defense, it would’ve negated her claim to the “unwritten law.” 

After her arrest, in an effort to invoke said statute for herself, Vera neatly summed up the “unwritten law” as this: “In my State men may lie, gamble, cheat in business, but they do not lay hands on a woman.” As I understand it, this tacit law allowed judges and juries to protect abused women who either snapped or needed to defend themselves at a point in time when domestic violence laws were nearly nonexistent. More importantly, it’s part of the foundation on which the murderess acquittal formula rested — hence why, in my opinion, it’s more than likely Vera swapped up the order of events to save her own skin.

Unfortunately for Vera, her uneven account wasn’t the only problem.

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2024

Crime & Christie: Give Them The Old Razzle Dazzle….

Finder of Lost ThingsLeave a comment

On May 6, 1919, the day after slaying Paul F. Volland, a Grand Jury charged Vera Trepagnier with his murder. What’s more, the twelve men refused to set bail, thereby sending sixty-year-old Vera off to the Cook County Jail to join the other women awaiting trial on its infamous Murderess Row. Nevertheless — despite the charge, the multiple witnesses placing her in the room when Volland died, handing Patrolman Patrick Durkin the murder weapon, and confessing to the crime — Vera wasn’t without a heaping helping of hope that she’d get away with murder. 

Sounds mind-boggling, right? Hope, in the face of an apparent prosecutorial slam dunk. 

Lists like this one, printed in 1914, were printed fairly frequently in papers across the country.

However, in the 12 years leading up to Paul F. Volland’s death, Cook County prosecutors only managed to convict 3 out of the 29 women put on trial for murder or manslaughter (according to the tallies routinely published in the papers). Which begs the question: How? Well, in studying Vera’s case, as well as yards and yards of newspaper columns covering the 29 women who preceded Vera into the courtroom (and a number who came after), a familiar refrain kept repeating itself.

And They Both Reached For The Gun

Variants of this line kept creeping up, pinging a distant and dormant earworm in the back of my brain. Unable to recall why it sounded so very, very familiar, I tapped the phrase into a search engine and immediately learned why it resonated.

Did you know the musical Chicago is loosely based on real murders and murderesses? Maurine Dallas Watkins, the play’s original author, based Chicago on two (in)famous criminal cases she covered during her eight-month stint with the Chicago Tribune in 1924. Beulah Annan, who shot her married lover in the back, served as the inspiration for Roxie Hart. Belva Gaertner, the muse for Velma Kelly, claimed to have no memory of shooting her married lover in her car after they’d spent several hours visiting bars, drinking, and listening to jazz. You will be unsurprised to learn both women were acquitted of the crimes. 

The musical, created after Watkins’ death in 1969, does a great job of exposing the formula defense lawyers (generally, though not exclusively) followed to obtain acquittals for their female clients. 

These were just some of the “glamorous” newspaper photos of the women who were eventually acquitted for murder/manslaughter in Cook County.

Step One: After committing the crime (of course), feed the media. Recall the newspaper headline that started me down this odd and twisting path: “Can A Beauty Be Convicted?” Admittedly, owning youth, good looks, and manners didn’t hurt their cause. However, what this story conveniently ignores (though the musical shows in aces) is the symbiotic relationship enjoyed with many, though not all, of these female killers and the press.

By answering questions shouted at them on the courthouse steps and granting interviews, these women helped improve the paper’s circulation numbers whilst priming potential members of their juries before ever stepping into the courtroom. 

Thereby explaining why Vera, who declined to testify before the Grand Jury in her own defense, gave a series of interviews to reporters hours after joining Murderess Row. By laying out her slow spiral into poverty after losing her fortune, home, and husband while making sure to mention her altruistic plans for the $5,000 and/or the painting, Vera noticeably softened the tone of the subsequent coverage. 

More importantly, by concentrating on her life story and the lopsided deal she unwittingly struck, Vera could obliquely portray Paul F. Volland as a rich man willing to use his power and position to swindle an older, desperate woman out of the last remaining vestige of her salad days without rousing other influential Chicagoans into defending the dead man’s memory — which would prove catastrophic for Vera’s defense. 

Speaking of Vera’s story, sifting through Vera’s interviews and testimony, the bare bones of her version of events goes like this: After Paul F. Volland closed his office doors, she reiterated her demand for either $5,000 or the Trumbull miniature. 

Volland’s response: “I’m tired of looking at you and of listening to you. I haven’t got anymore time to waste. Now, will you get out?” 

Unaccustomed to such rudeness but unwilling to leave without at least one of her requests being met, Vera stood her ground. Whereupon, according to Vera, “…{Paul F. Volland} leaped at me. I felt his fingers touching at my throat. He pushed me towards the door. I could stand it no longer. I opened my purse, grasped the pistol and pointed it at him. He leaped at me again and I fired. He dropped in a heap at my feet, gasping: ‘I am shot, I am shot.’ That is all I remember.” 

With the potential jury pool now prepped to think Volland attacked first and his death a mere accident, it’s time to cue the next essential element of an acquittal…

Some of the other players in Vera’s trial.

Step Two: Razzle-dazzle them, or in other words, create a spectacle evocative enough to bamboozle the 12 men of the jury into finding reasonable doubt, whether it’s there or not. This was usually accomplished through effusive weeping, fainting bouts, and statements of abject regret, remorse, and sorrow by the accused in court.

However, these over-the-top demonstrations of contrition didn’t really suit Vera’s case. Seems prior to sinking their teeth into Vera’s tales of woe, the papers reported on her absolutely serene demeanor at the crime scene. According to their words, Vera showed no signs of distress over what she’d done — no shaking hands or voice, no apologies, no tears. In point of fact (and I’m not sure how accurate this is), the papers made it sound as if Vera stepped over Volland as he lay dying on the floor in order to peer out his office windows while waiting for the police. 

With standard razzmatazz measures rendered useless, Vera’s lawyers turned to plan B — during her six straight hours on the stand (the only person her defense team called to testify), Vera dramatically reenacted her and Volland’s struggle over the gun. The exhibition highlighted the physical disparity between 44-year-old Paul F. Volland and 60-year-old Vera while attempting to refute the prosecution’s expert witness, who declared it impossible for Vera’s revolver to accidentally discharge in the way Vera claimed. “My {Vera’s} finger was on the trigger. His hand closed over mine, pressed my finger and exploded the weapon. He really shot himself.” 

The theatrics didn’t end there. 

Endeavoring to bolster Vera’s claim: That Volland attacked first and without provocation thus rendering Vera’s actions understandable. In his opening remarks, Leo Lebosky (one of Vera’s lawyers) attacked Volland’s reputation. Calling Volland a “woman-hater” and “woman-beater” — then claimed Volland’s second ex-wife sought a divorce on the grounds of cruelty. These remarks instantly provoked Assistant State’s Attorney Dwight to raise strenuous objections and Judge Brentano to remind Lebosky that claims along these lines would not be admitted into evidence. This led Lebosky to confidently counter, “…it would be.” (They weren’t, btw.)

In July 1919, with the formula now complete: Crime, sob story, razzle-dazzle, and blaming the victim for their own death (i.e., the killing was accidental), a Cook County jury withdrew from the courtroom to deliberate on Vera’s fate.

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2024