Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 193, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 August 1912 — The Case Book of a Private Detective A TRAIL OF INK [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Case Book of a Private Detective

A TRAIL OF INK

True Narratives of Interesting Cases by If Former Operative of flie William J. Kiras Detective Agency

By DAVID CORNELL

(Copyright by the International Pros* Burean.)

How a Clever Bank “Kiter” Was Run Down on a Slender Clue The National Bankers’ Protective association is an organization formed by the bankers of this country to protect themselves and, the money in their care from the onslaughts of that considerable class of sharp-witted and reckless men who live by “working banks.” i . .. This class is divided into two minor classes —the “rough workers" and the “kiters.” The former phrase is used in detective parlance to designate the gentlemen who travel around the country and blow bank safes. The “kiters” are*the persons who obtain money by forgery, raised checks, altered drafts, false identifications, and other misrepresentations. Although the safe-blowers get more space in the papers, because of the spectacular character of their achievements, they are the least troublesome of these two types of criminals. A couple of yeggmen will blow a safe in a country bank in Painted Post, Neb., jshoot the town marshal in the leg, an? get away with $5,000, and the press of the country will ring with the news. But all the time there is going on the shrewd, silent work of the “kiter," which Beldom gets into the papers, but which continually is costing bankers and depositors thousands of dollars. To catch a “yeggman”—a safe-blow, er—is nothing more or less than straight police work. To catch a "kiter” is a problem of Intricate detective work, for the “kiter” is a man of brains, where the “yegg” Is merely one of force, And the former knows better than anyone in the world how to cover his tracks to escape detection. There is living in California at the present time an old gentleman who retired on a pension granted him 'Borcral ycnrnngo by a combination of “bankers who c&icfttlated that it would be better to pay Him to'rejnain honest than to risk losses from His skilful methods of forgery. It is hardly likely that banking history of this country will see such another incident. The National Bankers’ Protective Agency employs the Burns Detective Agency to do all Its work now, and no matter how shrewd a forger may be, how, scientific his methods, the Burns system, backed by the Bankers’ is sure to get him in the long run. At the same time there are hundreds of men — mostly young fellows in desperate financial stralts^-who' tempt fate by passing bad bank paper. Such criminals are soon run to earth. It is the old scientific fox, the man who has made “kiting” a profession, who makes trouble; and the first one of |hese gentlemen that I ran down while working as a Bums detective was the best of the lot. In Medilllon, N. Y., there are three banks, the Old National, the First Na. tlonal and the Farmers’ and Merchants’. One Monday morning the office manager of our agency came down to the ofiice to find on his desk a telegram from each of these banks requesting that a man be sent up at once. “A Job for you, Cornell,” said the manager, handing me the messages. "Beat it up there as soon as you can.” I caught a Lackawanna train at 10:30, and at seven in the evening 1 was registering in the best hotel in Medilllon, a town of 7,500 people. After three days’ work I had unraveled the following tale of what had happened to the banks of Medilllon: A month before a man named Clawson, who conducted the most prosperous coal yard of the town, had decided to sell out and retire from business. He had advertised the sale in a retail coal trade publication that circulated among coal dealers throughout the country. In a few days, or to be precise, Just three weeks before I arrived in town, a prosperous, energetic looking man had appeared in answer to the advertisement. He introduced himself as Milton K, Jenkins, said he had been in the coal business years before, in Chicago, had quit it and gone to New York, where he had been working as a coal salesman for the laßt five years. The death of an uncle, said he, recently had placed him in possession of a little money. He wanted get into business for himself. He wanted to get out of the grind and worry of the city. He wanted to be his own boss. He had been in Medilllon once before and liked the town. As soon as he had SMh Clawson’s advertisement be had said to his wife, ‘There’s the place for us, Jennie, if the business is any good,” and had hied himself straightaway to* the town. ; “Now,” said he energetically, "show me what you’ve got to sell.” The man’s knowledge of the coal business was so complete as to assure Clawson at once that he was talking to an Old and shrewd hand in that line. His bearing and address had all the earmarks of success and forcefulness. He knew how much coal cost at the mines down in Pennsylvania, how much freight rates were, and what coal ought to sell for ST Medillion. He smiled apprpciative-

ly when Clawson showed him his books and demonstrated that the people of Medilllon were willing to pay even a little more than what coal ought to sell for in'that town. “I see you know the game, too," he said; and Clawson naturally was a little flattered. Clawson named a price of $5,500 on his plant as it lay then, in the early summer with little stock In it. This was an unreasonable price, and Jenkins said so at once. "Five thousand is the top-notch price I can see myself paying for it,” said he, “and probably $4,500 will be what it looks like when I’ve looked it over carefully.” Clawson grumbled that $5,500 was his only price, but inwardly he was pleased. He had set $4,000 as what he expected to realize from his Bale. Jenkins began to go into the details of the business with him as no one but a man skilled in that fine could do. He covered the field with his investigations and questions in .a way that aroused Clawson’s admiration. “Mr. Jenkins,” he said, “you can do twice as much business here as I did. You can teach them all something about the coal business.” “I know something about It,” admitted. Jenkins. “You haven’t hustled quite enough. Don’t you know that you ought to get a couple olfactories Into this town? I do. I got one in view now that I could bring here possibly. But you’ll never get $6,500 out of me for your business.” Finally he wrote a check for $250 on the Twenty-fifth Street Bank of New York city for a five days’ option at $5,000. > At the same time that he was dickering Tor the business Jenkins began to make inquiries about a home, again his evident character as an experienced and forceful business man asserted itself. Clawson, quite convinced that he would make his sale at a price satisfactory to himself, eagerly carried Jenkins over to a real estate man named Cross and Introduced him as a new and valuable addition to the pop*, ulation of Medilllon. 9 Cross, likewise, was deeply impressed by Jenkins. He had no doubt of his ability to pay Jor the best -house for sale in town, and Jenkins was at once taken out and shown a desirable property. It was an old homestead with large grounds and in good repair, and the price was $5,000. It was a fair price. Jenkins agreed at once to this. He went through the house carefully.

“Just about the kind of a place Jennie—my wife —would like,” he said. “I’ll get her up to take a look at it." Cross had promptly begun the real man’s old song: “Well, Mr. Jenkins, there are two or three other parties Interested in this property, and i expect an offer for it almost any moment. If you want —” "Anybody got an option on It?'* asked Jenkins. “No.” “Give me a three-day option on it for $200,” said Jenkins. “I’d close with you now, but my wife always wants a finger in the home pie.” He wrote a check for S2OO on the Twentyfifth Street Bank of New York city. The third man in the net was Flink, the big furniture man of the town. He came in the third day, when Mrs. Jenkins, a prepossessing, well dressed woman, came to town. By this time the news had been printed in the town’s little dally paper that Mr. Jenkins of New York was buying out Clawson’s coal yard and purchasing the old homestead from Cross for a home. Also, it was rumored, Mr. Jenkins was connected with several manufacturing enterprises which were considering Mediliion as a possible location f Mrs. Jenkins came into Flink’s FurEmporium, and with the goodnatured assistance of Jenkins began to pick opt furniture for their new home. She had taste and an apparently generous pocketbook. Flink rubbed his hands as he saw her pick nothing but the most expensive stuff in his store. He extended himself to please Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. The bill for the articles that Mrs. Jenkins had Bet aside ran up to $1,200. “It will be some days before we want them sent up,” said she. .“But when we do want them it will be in a hurry.” . A deposit of one hundred dollars . was made, and the pair departed. The deposit was in the form of a check on the Twenty-fifth Street Bank of New York. Clawson, Cross and Flink hurried at once to their banks with their checks. Clawson banked at the Old National, Cross at the First National, and Flink at the Fanners’ and Merchants’. The checks were taken for collection —and proved good. Jenkins made such an impression that the Chamber of Commerce invited him as an honored guest to its weekly meeting. He was looked upon a cttisen to be welcomed with open arms. Said the president of the Chamber of Commerce in introducing him: “Mr. Jenkins is what, we need and want: a thorough-going hustler.** He was. At the end of a week’s

dickering with Clawson, he agreed to boy the coal yard at $4,750, $2,500 to be paid at once, and the remainder on six months’ time. He wrote a check as before for Hie $2,500. “And by the way, Clawson,” he said. “Wish you’d take me down and introduce me to your banker. I’ll have to transfer my account here in 9 few days.” Clawson accordingly Introduced Jenkins to the Old National bank In a cordial manner. As soon as he had been properly identified Jenkins presented a draft issued by the TwentyFifth Street bank for $1,625.' The cashier paid it without a murmur of suspicion. From Clawson, Jenkins went to Cross, and within half an hour he had repeated his operation at the First National, there cashing a draft for sl,610. From Cross he went to Flink, and Flink accommodatingly identified him at the Farmers’ and Merchants’, where he secured $1,300 on a similar draft. That night Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins left Medilllon. Next day the banks discovered that the drafts were all forgeries. The forms on which they were issued were mere cheap imitations of the Twenty-fifth Street Bank’s paper. Hurried telegrams went to the New York bank: “How much is Jenkins’ balance?” The answer came: “Eighteen dollars and eleven cents.” The Medilllon banks-had been cleverly stuns. This was the story that I gathered thread by thread when I investigated the trouble in Medilllon. To trace Jenkins I had specimens of his hand-writing, excellent descriptions of him, and the knowledge that he was an expert in the coal business.

Beyond that —nothing. He had «come to Medillion, stayed a little, and flitted away from $4,435 of the bankers’ money. He had left no trail to follow. He was a thorough-going ‘ ’:iter.” Back In New York I found that Jenkins had been a depositor of the Twen-ty-fifth Street Bank for only a short time. “Nothing was known of him there. He had left no trace. So far as any trail was concerned the existence of Jenkins began with his appearance at this bank and ended with his disappearance from Medillion. None of the clumsy little tracks left by the crude criminal were to be fonnd in this case. He had just come, had got the money, and had gone. He was an artist. “Well,*’ said Chief Burns, “It looks os if a new ’kiter’ had begun work among tha banks in dead earnest. But I’ve seen work that resembles this before.” We hunted through our records, tnd sure enough, the same methods that had worked in Medilllon had been used In Michigan about a year before. A coal man had advertised his business for sale, a prospective purchaser had appeared, had established his credit, had cashed drafts through introductions to the local banks, and had flitted, no one knew where. And so one bad discovered. doing back still further wo found that about a year before another case of. the same sort qad been reported from lowa. This was before the Burns ageary began to hauuie toe TVnkers

Protective association’s business. We hunted through all the .records we could find, and as near as we could Judge, about once every twelve months a man appeared in some small town as Jenkins had appeared in Medilllon, and put over about the same kind of a job. The man never had been apprehended or even located. Upon investigating these old cases we found that the “kiter” always used a different name, that he was sometimes shaved, sometimes bearded, sometimes splurgily dressed, and sometimes quietly—but always he was a coal man of forceful character and apparent success. It was obvious that he and our “Mr. Jenkins” were one and the same man. A hurried flitting around the country placed in my possession the various specimens of handwriting that had been left by the “kiter.” At first I was amazed and disappointed to discover that they were all apparently the work of different men; but a few days’ work on the part of our handwriting expert demonstrated that one man had written them all, but that he had so skilfully disguised his hand on each occasion as to make each specimen entirely different in appearance from the others. My respect foi my quarry grew immensely at this revelation. The man was absolutely the cleverest forger I ever had heard of. Now I knew that the Jenkins who had fooled the banks in Medillion was an old and expert hand at crime, that he had worked at it for at least six years, and that he seemed to-do only one job a jear. And still I was as tar away from any apparent clew as when I started on the case. Somewhere in America this forceful, clever fellow was living on the proceeds of his crime. But what a task to look for

him! For this Jenkins was not of the criminal type. He would not be found by hunting among crooks. He might be anywhere and in almost any plane of society. The only physical proof that I had of the existence of Jenkins was his variously disguised hand-writing. This was the only trace that he had left of his presence. But this was enough, as It proved. I will not tire the reader with telling about the weary weeks of futile toll I spent at first on the Jenkins case. They were weeks of searching and researching without finding anything. Nothing interesting happened in that time. BUt in the end, after the weariest sort of digging, I finally unearthed the salient fact that all of the coal men who had been the means of attracting the fatal Jenkins to their towns had advertised their business for sale' in the same coal trade publication. Tbis publication was a small weekly issued at Philadelphia. It went only to retail coal dealers. It was not for sale on newsstands, nor was it to be fonnd in any library in the country. It had 2,752 subscribers, aqjl these were about the only people in the country who knew that such a publication existed. Reasoning the thing out it seemed possible to suppose that Jenkins for years had been a constant reader of this paper. The case for this theory summed up thus: , Six certain men hal published in

this paper ads offering for sale a coal business, which Jenkins had answered. These particular ads had appeared ID a space covering six years. In three cases* at least be had asserted that he had seen the advertisement in this publication. He was so familiar with all the up-to-date news of the trade that he could hardly have obtained it any other way than reading closely the gossip of a trade paper. Against this of course was the possibility that Jenkins had merely hit upon these particular coal yards by accident. At all events, this was tbq only clue that I had to work on. In Philadelphia I found the publisher of the coal paper to be a crabbed old fellow who would have nothing to do with me at first. I looked around and found that he was head-over-heels in debt, and that his bank held two notes against him which they* were threatening to call In, which action would have put the old fellow out of business. The president of the bank, on my request, wrote a little note, and upon its presentation the publisher was glad to turn over for my Inspection all his records. Together with the hand-writing expert I set to work on all the letters that the old man had in the office. Fortunately the old fellow was of a suspicious habit of mind. Whenever anyone sent in an order for a subscription he not only placed the order on his books, but he filed away the original letter, to produce if the subscriber denied payment. He. had over 2,500 of these letters, and our task was to look at each one and compare the signatures with the various disguised hand-writings of Jenkins. For I had decided that about the only way of getting a line on our man lay in

the possibility that he was a subscriber to the coal trade paper, and that he had written a signed letter to the editor. As the expert was looking over the I, letter he jumped up with a shout w “Here’s our man!” he cried, and threw over to me a letter signed “A. J. Cummings, Neria, Ohio.” To the layman this signature was totally different from any of those we had found left by Jenkins, but the expert quickly proved that it was from the same hand. The letter was written on Cummings’ letter-bead —he was in the coal and wood business in Neria —and was for a five years’ subscription to the paper. Trains didn’t run fast enough to suit me after that. I raced np to Medillion and got Clawson and Cross and Flink together. I wired the cashiers of banks la other towns who had been fleeced by Jenkins. I went to Neria, Ohio, a tiny town of 1,500 people,! and got a spot on Cummings. He was a coal merchant —but I found that he was frequently absent from Neria for weeks at a time. And nobody knew where he went on these occasions. I wired my fcmkers and the trio in Medillion: “Come on to Neria and look him over.” They came as fast as trains could carry them.- I pointed Jenkins out to theip as he walked down the street TBey recognized, him, every man Jack of them, as “Jetfklns”

Clawson went up and held out Ida hand. “Hello, Jenkins,” he said. "Yon are mistaken/’ was the answer. “Cummings is my name.” “It is here,” said Cross, stepping up, "but in Medillion it was Jenkins,, ail right" ■ “Yes,” said Flink. "Why didn’t you come back for your furniture?" Cummings—Jenkins—looked around wildly. On every aide of him he saw cashiers from the banks that be had swindled in the last six years. They greeted him by the different names he had used in their towns. Then I stepped up and showed him the letter be had written to the coal paper. . “But for this,” I said, "we might never have got you.” Cummings was smart enough to see that the game was up. He made a complete confession, clearing up a lot of mysterious bank forgeries, and took 15 years in Auburn prison. His wife went tree. She fought the case, alleging that Jenkins had forced her to help him by threats of death. She got a young jury, and she was a pretty* youthful looking woman. We didn’t care much about her, however. Jenkins —or rather. Cummings—was the brains of the outfit, and we had put him where his brains couldn’t do our clients any harm.

Cummings-Jenkins Looked around Wildly.