Dillinger's Warsaw Visit Caused A Nationwide Stir
July 28, 2016 at 4:25 p.m.
Last week I researched John Dillinger's appearance in Warsaw. The story of the 70th anniversary of Dillinger's encounter with Warsaw night officer Judd Pittenger appeared in Monday's Times-Union.
Dillinger had been on a crime spree ever since he was paroled from the Indiana State Prison in Michigan City jail in 1933. He and his gang robbed banks of their money, stole cars and had recently been lifting guns and other equipment from police stations around the Midwest.
There are thousands of references to Dillinger on the Internet, and, of course, some are better than others.
Dillinger's moniker was "The Gentleman Bandit" because of his politeness during a bank heist. He figured he could get the job done without killing.
According to Warsaw Police Department Sgt. Larry Engle, the shooting of Patrick O'Malley in East Chicago was an accident.
"Dillinger contended he was aiming at O'Malley's leg," Engle said. Then O'Malley ducked and Dillinger hit a more vital area. "That's probably true, he wasn't known for killing."
Dillinger, listed as Public Enemy No. 1 by the FBI, was something of a celebrity. Engle suspects that the Lake County jailers who held him in Crown Point liked him.
It is doubted that Dillinger openly whittled a hunk of wood into a gun shape, which he used to escape, but that it was brought to him while his keepers looked the other way.
After the famous getaway, Dillinger posed in a famous photograph with the wooden gun and a submachine gun during a family reunion and picnic.
He would come and go, visiting his sister, friends and other relatives. No one ever turned him in.
Part of the entertainment for me was reading the different versions of the events that took place in the wee hours of April 13, 1934, at the corner of Warsaw's Center and Buffalo streets.
Today, reporters are trained to use words like "alleged" and "suspected" and "reportedly" to spare the criminal's tender feelings and ourselves from a lawsuit.
Writers in the 1930s did not work under these restrictions.
According to the Warsaw Union's Limited Edition, a reporter was immediately on the scene and had immediate access to Judd Pittenger.
The Union journalist called Dillinger a desperado, a slippery outlaw and a bandit. Van Meter was referred to as a henchman and a member of the Dillinger gang.
Oh, how I would love to refer to someone with their third OWI in two years as a complete idiot or someone booked for writing bad checks as an out-and-out thief. We can't use this kind of straight talk anymore.
Pittenger was relieved of his gun at the beginning of the tale, then "clubbed." This action also was described as being slugged and struck with a severe blow.
All we get to say is that a victim was wounded and treated. Where's the fun in that?
In Robert Cromie and Joseph Pinkston's novel, "Dillinger, a short and violent life" (at the Old Jail Museum), Pittenger kept his .38-caliber special until Van Meter snatched it and "cracked him over the head." Now, that's a description. (Pinkston went on to establish the Dillinger Museum in Nashville with Barton Hahn.)
When Pittenger died in February 1976, the Times-Union gave him front page placement, reporting he was beaten around the head.
Pittenger talked to newspapers from coast to coast, and there are minor discrepancies in the stories the further they were published from Warsaw.
The Union reported that Pittenger escaped the two men and fell down most of the length of stairs on his way out of city hall.
Cromie and Pinkston say Pittenger merely slipped and hurt his knee.
In the New York Times version of events published April 14, 1934, no one fell down the stairs.
Another report said Pittenger tripped Dillinger and Dillinger fell down the stairs.
One article says Pittenger grabbed the barrel of Dillinger's gun, holding it up. Another reads that he held the gun to the side.
The N.Y. Times and the Union quote Dillinger: "Leave loose. We don't want to kill you."
Cromie and Pinkston write that Van Meter said, "Don't try to get funny, copper, we don't want to kill you," as Dillinger's partner came up behind the policeman.
The Union's article has Dillinger saying "Don't be a damn fool, we don't want to be forced to kill you," when Pittenger was slow to turn over the city hall key.
"I don't want you to kill me," replied Pittenger. "I have a couple of kids at home."
"That's the reason we don't want to kill you," came the response.
Nowadays when we quote someone we always write he said or she said.
Evidently no one can "reply" to a question or "comment" or "answer."
Old Jail Museum director Jeannie Jones has a fond memory of Pittenger's daughter Maxine Eck of Illinois visiting the Dillinger display years ago.
"I'll never forget talking to her, " Jones said. "She said she could remember her dad, his head wrapped in bandages, sitting on the front porch after he met Dillinger."
Pittenger went on to serve the WPD for 13 more years, retiring in 1947.
Engle said Pittenger was one of the first policemen to have a fingerprint camera, which he purchased with his own money. The camera took closeups of dusted fingerprints and Pittenger solved several crimes with the equipment.
Not only does the WPD still have that camera and Pittenger's hat and uniform, several of the officers have pooled their money and enlisted Bill Allen to make a replica of Pittenger's badge. It has a number 1 engraved in the center.
Writers for the Warsaw Union and The Call Bulletin of San Francisco mention fireman Mike Hodges in their stories.
Engle explained that firemen and policemen were paid extra to stoke business owner's furnaces during the night so the shops were warm for customers in the morning.
Hodges was on duty, sleeping in the fire station, and heard the ruckus overhead. He saw Pittenger run from the building, followed by the two armed men.
Hodges peeked out and saw Dillinger and Van Meter run to three cars parked on Indiana Street and speed away.
"Hodges was hiding," Engle said, "which I would have done, too."
The Warsaw Union's Limited Edition also ran reports from local folks about Dillinger renting a cottage at Black's Landing on the east side of Barbee, at the Barbee Hotel and at the Thornburg Resort on the east side of the lake. (My apologies to Joe T. - you were right.)
Kosciusko County Sheriff Harley Person (1931-1934) gave refuge to East Chicago detectives Time O'Neil and Martin Zarkovich, who helped to track and gun down Dillinger in Chicago. Fearing reprisals from the gang, they hid out at Lake Wawasee for a time.
Other notorious personalities like Baby Face Nelson and Al Capone also were known to stay at the lake resorts - but that's another story. [[In-content Ad]]
Last week I researched John Dillinger's appearance in Warsaw. The story of the 70th anniversary of Dillinger's encounter with Warsaw night officer Judd Pittenger appeared in Monday's Times-Union.
Dillinger had been on a crime spree ever since he was paroled from the Indiana State Prison in Michigan City jail in 1933. He and his gang robbed banks of their money, stole cars and had recently been lifting guns and other equipment from police stations around the Midwest.
There are thousands of references to Dillinger on the Internet, and, of course, some are better than others.
Dillinger's moniker was "The Gentleman Bandit" because of his politeness during a bank heist. He figured he could get the job done without killing.
According to Warsaw Police Department Sgt. Larry Engle, the shooting of Patrick O'Malley in East Chicago was an accident.
"Dillinger contended he was aiming at O'Malley's leg," Engle said. Then O'Malley ducked and Dillinger hit a more vital area. "That's probably true, he wasn't known for killing."
Dillinger, listed as Public Enemy No. 1 by the FBI, was something of a celebrity. Engle suspects that the Lake County jailers who held him in Crown Point liked him.
It is doubted that Dillinger openly whittled a hunk of wood into a gun shape, which he used to escape, but that it was brought to him while his keepers looked the other way.
After the famous getaway, Dillinger posed in a famous photograph with the wooden gun and a submachine gun during a family reunion and picnic.
He would come and go, visiting his sister, friends and other relatives. No one ever turned him in.
Part of the entertainment for me was reading the different versions of the events that took place in the wee hours of April 13, 1934, at the corner of Warsaw's Center and Buffalo streets.
Today, reporters are trained to use words like "alleged" and "suspected" and "reportedly" to spare the criminal's tender feelings and ourselves from a lawsuit.
Writers in the 1930s did not work under these restrictions.
According to the Warsaw Union's Limited Edition, a reporter was immediately on the scene and had immediate access to Judd Pittenger.
The Union journalist called Dillinger a desperado, a slippery outlaw and a bandit. Van Meter was referred to as a henchman and a member of the Dillinger gang.
Oh, how I would love to refer to someone with their third OWI in two years as a complete idiot or someone booked for writing bad checks as an out-and-out thief. We can't use this kind of straight talk anymore.
Pittenger was relieved of his gun at the beginning of the tale, then "clubbed." This action also was described as being slugged and struck with a severe blow.
All we get to say is that a victim was wounded and treated. Where's the fun in that?
In Robert Cromie and Joseph Pinkston's novel, "Dillinger, a short and violent life" (at the Old Jail Museum), Pittenger kept his .38-caliber special until Van Meter snatched it and "cracked him over the head." Now, that's a description. (Pinkston went on to establish the Dillinger Museum in Nashville with Barton Hahn.)
When Pittenger died in February 1976, the Times-Union gave him front page placement, reporting he was beaten around the head.
Pittenger talked to newspapers from coast to coast, and there are minor discrepancies in the stories the further they were published from Warsaw.
The Union reported that Pittenger escaped the two men and fell down most of the length of stairs on his way out of city hall.
Cromie and Pinkston say Pittenger merely slipped and hurt his knee.
In the New York Times version of events published April 14, 1934, no one fell down the stairs.
Another report said Pittenger tripped Dillinger and Dillinger fell down the stairs.
One article says Pittenger grabbed the barrel of Dillinger's gun, holding it up. Another reads that he held the gun to the side.
The N.Y. Times and the Union quote Dillinger: "Leave loose. We don't want to kill you."
Cromie and Pinkston write that Van Meter said, "Don't try to get funny, copper, we don't want to kill you," as Dillinger's partner came up behind the policeman.
The Union's article has Dillinger saying "Don't be a damn fool, we don't want to be forced to kill you," when Pittenger was slow to turn over the city hall key.
"I don't want you to kill me," replied Pittenger. "I have a couple of kids at home."
"That's the reason we don't want to kill you," came the response.
Nowadays when we quote someone we always write he said or she said.
Evidently no one can "reply" to a question or "comment" or "answer."
Old Jail Museum director Jeannie Jones has a fond memory of Pittenger's daughter Maxine Eck of Illinois visiting the Dillinger display years ago.
"I'll never forget talking to her, " Jones said. "She said she could remember her dad, his head wrapped in bandages, sitting on the front porch after he met Dillinger."
Pittenger went on to serve the WPD for 13 more years, retiring in 1947.
Engle said Pittenger was one of the first policemen to have a fingerprint camera, which he purchased with his own money. The camera took closeups of dusted fingerprints and Pittenger solved several crimes with the equipment.
Not only does the WPD still have that camera and Pittenger's hat and uniform, several of the officers have pooled their money and enlisted Bill Allen to make a replica of Pittenger's badge. It has a number 1 engraved in the center.
Writers for the Warsaw Union and The Call Bulletin of San Francisco mention fireman Mike Hodges in their stories.
Engle explained that firemen and policemen were paid extra to stoke business owner's furnaces during the night so the shops were warm for customers in the morning.
Hodges was on duty, sleeping in the fire station, and heard the ruckus overhead. He saw Pittenger run from the building, followed by the two armed men.
Hodges peeked out and saw Dillinger and Van Meter run to three cars parked on Indiana Street and speed away.
"Hodges was hiding," Engle said, "which I would have done, too."
The Warsaw Union's Limited Edition also ran reports from local folks about Dillinger renting a cottage at Black's Landing on the east side of Barbee, at the Barbee Hotel and at the Thornburg Resort on the east side of the lake. (My apologies to Joe T. - you were right.)
Kosciusko County Sheriff Harley Person (1931-1934) gave refuge to East Chicago detectives Time O'Neil and Martin Zarkovich, who helped to track and gun down Dillinger in Chicago. Fearing reprisals from the gang, they hid out at Lake Wawasee for a time.
Other notorious personalities like Baby Face Nelson and Al Capone also were known to stay at the lake resorts - but that's another story. [[In-content Ad]]