Medford mail tribune., August 24, 1958, Image 42

FROM Ji
HAWAIItR I
PUNCH
Esau
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:ruit
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blended to a - y
little queen's taste. On your
grocer's shelf or in his freezer.
, Cover: B. Pinsltv from APA.
Pig 2: Undirwood A Underwood.
Pgt 4: Lynn Farnol.
Case
of the
Precarious
Capture
It took courage for this cop to bring
I ' I I 1 I ' L I ' 1 I 1 r . I. 1
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in his quarry. j
by William T. Brannon
Art by Denise Giraud
Iumerous pictures of four wanted men had passed
through the hands of Detective Tim O'Connell
at Chicago Police Headquarters during the Sum
mer of 1935. The four had been identified as a vicious
holdup gang that had eluded police for months. O'Con
nell was eager to go after them, but his orders kept him
tied to a desk.
As he was driving home one afternoon, he saw a car
ahead containing four men. He squinted at the occu
pants and recognized them as the four fugitives. He
slowed down, staying as far behind them as possible.
Two men in the rear looked back frequently, as if afraid
of being followed.
Finally the car stopped. O'Connell went on past and
drew up in front of an apartment house. In his rear
view mirror he could see that the men were still in the
car, watching to see what he was going to do, apparently
suspicious of him.
This was his chance. But how was he going to capture
four of Chicago's toughest criminals, all undoubtedly
armed and wary?
Without looking to either side,- O'Connell strode into
the apartment house. In the vestibule, he removed his
coat, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his collar. Then
he went back outside, a newspaper folded under his arm.
He sat down on the front steps, lit a cigaret, and opened
the paper as if to read.
Their suspicions apparently lulled, the four criminals
left their car and strolled down the street. As they came
abreast of him, O'Connell suddenly stood up, his revolver
drawn. At his crisp command, the startled men held up
their hands in surrender.
"Line up over here," O'Connell ordered, "your faces
to the wall. And keep your hands up."
The detective backed cautiously out onto the side
walk, near the curb, where he could see in every direc
tion. A small boy was coming along the sidewalk, staring
at the unusual scene.
"Look, sonny," O'Connell called, "go call the police
and tell them to send some men, will you?"
"Not me, mister," the boy replied, backing away. "I'm
not doing any favors for any copper!"
Suddenly the full impact of his problem hit O'Connell:
the neighborhood he was in had spawned numerous
criminals, including many killers. A bitter hatred of
policemen existed, even among its law-abiding residents.
O'Connell hailed passing cars. Some stopped, took a
good look, then hurried on. Silence or flat refusals
greeted his appeals for help.
It was 5:30 when O'Connell stopped the four men.
They were still against the wall at 6: 30' and O'Connell
was worried. He knew it would be foolish to try to take
his captives in without help. He would have to keep
them at a distance or they would mob him.
By 7:30, O'Connell's arm was almost paralyzed from
holding the gun. The bandits were tired, too, of keeping
their hands up. In the beginning they had growled and
threatened. Now they began taunting him.
"You might as well be a statue," one of them ridiculedr.
"Nobody around here will help you!"
"You're stuck, copper," another chided. "And there's
not a thing you can do about it."
"I could shoot you," O'Connell retorted. "In fact, I
may have to. Just keep still and don't make me mad!"
A growing crowd of onlookers had gathered. It would
be only a matter of time until some of them converged
on him and rescued the prisoners.
The street lights came on at 8 o'clock. The spectators
congregated in hostile groups in the shadows, but
O'Connell knew they were there.
He had a hot potato and couldn't let go of it. He
knew he'd be lucky to get out of this alive, but he stuck
to his purpose. By 8:30, the crowd had grown to the
proportions of a .mob.
Five more minutes had dragged by when a passing
car skidded to a stop on the far side of the street. With
a clashing of gears, it backed up, made a wide circle,
and drew to the curb in front of the strange tableau.
Three burly men in dark suits tumbled out and came
forward on the run.
This is it, O'Connell thought: here are some more of
their gang. He backed away, flourishing the gun so that
it covered the three new men as well as the four still
standing against the wall.
Then, as the light fell on their features, O'Connell
recognized the newcomers as detectives. They quickly
handcuffed the prisoners, all four of whom were later
convicted and sent to prison.
O'Connell's harrowing experience had some notable
results: from that time on, all Chicago police traveled in
teams of two or three; the installation of two-way radio
was speeded up; a new respect for law and order was
born, even in the city's toughest neighborhoods.
And Tim O'Connell no longer had to fret about being
chained to a desk job. He was given his own squad and
became one of Chicago's outstanding detectives.
12
Family Weekly, August 24. 1958
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