It was a slight slip of the tongue, but it proved a criminal's undoing.
clue
of the
extra
syllable
By William T. Brannon
m i- v
i si x
1 w---.
On a raw, rainy night in De
cember, 1944, Herschel J.
Powell finished his run as a
railway mail clerk at Chattanooga,
Term., and picked up his car. A
head of him lay a 30-mile drive
to his home in Lafayette, Ga.
He was across the Georgia line
when he saw two figures beside
the road, their bodies hunched
against the rain. Powell skidded
to a stop and offered them a ride.
One got in front, the other in
back. Powell commented on the
nasty weather.
"Yeah," said the man in the
rear. "It's even worse up north. I
hear it snowed today all the way
from Knoxville to Pennsylvania."
In the dim dashboard light,
Powell noted that the man beside
him was near middle age, thin
faced, with a high forehead, sparse
dark hair, and a dark mustache.
But he had only glimpsed the
other man, who was younger.
Now, suddenly the man in the
front seat produced a gun and
pressed it into Powell's ribs "Do
like I say," he ordered, "or I'll
blow a hole in you!"
The mail clerk was so unnerved
that he veered to the shoulder of
the road. The gun poked him.
"Don't wreck this car or you're
dead," the gunman said.
As Powell recovered his com
posure and brought the car back
to the road, the older man began
frisking him. He found the .32
caliber revolver that had been
issued to him to protect the mail
while on his run. The man in the
back grabbed it, uttering an ex
clamation of pleasure.
"Where's the lake around here?"
the man in front demanded.
"I don't know," Powell replied.
"It's here and we'll find it." He
glanced toward the rocky crags
of Lookout Mountain. "Maybe it's
on the other side."
"Why bother to look for a
lake?" the younger man called.
"Toss him from one of the bluffs."
They drove in silence for a few
miles. Powell decided the men
were fugitives, that they needed
his car, and that they planned to
kill him and dump his body so he
couldn't alert the police.
"Stop here," the older gunman
said. When the car stopped,
Powell was shoved out into the
glare of the headlights. He thought
then that his time had come. But
the lights of another car flashed
in the distance and the gunmen
changed their plans.
Powell was ordered back into
the front seat, but the thin-faced
man slid behind the wheel him
self. The car lurched forward in
the beginning of a wild ride.
They went over and beyond
Lookout Mountain, slipping, slid
ing, imd skidding around turns.
Twice the car stopped and Powell
was forced to get out. The two
men debated whether to kill him
and leave his body beside the
road. Twice the older man raised
his gun as if to shoot.
Both times, the approach of a
car stopped him. Finally, he
stuffed a gag into Powell's mouth,
blindfolded him with another
handkerchief, and pushed him
back in the. car. He drove a few
miles and stopped again.
Powell, hunched down in the
front seat, pulled the blindfold
up just enough to peer out. He
saw a house, with a single light
bulb burning on the front porch.
A woman came to the door.
The younger man, still in the
back seat, reached over and
jabbed the revolver in Powell's
back. The blindfold slipped back
into place.
Within a few minutes, the other ,
outlaw was back and they started
riding again. Both men voiced
threats of death. Powell had no
idea where they were going.
His only chance to survive was
to open the car door, leap out,
and make a break. He resolved
to try it at the first opportunity.
Then unexpectedly, the gag and
blindfold were removed. "We're
coming to a town," said the older
man. "You sit up and and act
natural. If you try to get help,
we'll kill you and then fight it
out with the police!"
Dowell glanced around and re-
cognized his surroundings.
They were entering Trion,
Ga. It was past midnight and the
town was dark, but Powell hoped
a few places in the business sec
tion would still be open. This was
his chance.
With a barely perceptible move,
he rested his right elbow against
the door handle. The two men
apparently didn't . notice. The
driver made a bumpy crossing
over some railroad tracks and
Powell lurched with the car. His
elbow pressed against the door
handle, but not quite enough to
force it open.
The car sped into the business
section and Powell noticed the
bus station was still open. It was
now or never!
He pressed hard on the door
handle and rolled with one move
ment. The door flew open and the
captive bounced out.
By the time the car skidded to
a stop, Powell, only slightly
bruised, was on his feet and run
ning for the bus station. The
thugs saw they couldn't over
take him, and sped on.
At the bus station, he called the
police. They quickly recognized
Powell's description of the thin
faced man as Hoyt Ledford, a
parole violator for whom the
Georgia Bureau of Investigation
had issued a wanted order. His
wife lived in the vicinity.
Powell was taken to the home
of Ledford's wife and identified
it as the place they had stopped.
The woman admitted she and
Ledford had planned to leave for
Florida as soon as Powell was dis
posed of. She insisted she didn't
know where her husband was.
Powell's car was found 15 miles
from Trion. Ledford was caught
two weeks later, after he had
stolen another car. He confessed
kidnaping Powell, but stubbornly
refused to name his accomplice.
Ledford was convicted of lar
ceny, assault, and kidnaping, and
was sentenced to 27 years in pri
son. But he still refused to name
his companion.
Police decided he was Silas
Campbell, 17, Ledford's closest
friend at the Georgia State Peni
tentiary. A wanted order was is
sued for Campbell and he was
captured three months later.
Powell looked at him, but
couldn't identify him. "Have him
talk," the mail clerk suggested.
"Have him say Pennsylvania."
This was done and Powell
made positive identification.
Campbell confessed and went to
trial; he, too, was sentenced to
27 years.
A former school teacher,
Powell- had noticed at the begin
ning of that wild ride that the
younger man had spoken of
Pennsyl-a-vania, with an extra
syllable. The same mistake, re
peated, led to Powell positively
identifying Campbell as one of
his abductors.
or.
The car stopped and Powell was forced to get out. The two men debated whether
to kill him and leave his body beside the road. Twice
A
33;
mm
older man raised his gun. Both times, the
MV, , approach of another car stopped him.
Family Weekly, July 20, 1958