AMBUSH OF
CONSTABLE SMITH
NORMAN V. KELLY
Three men leaned against a building in Downtown
Peoria, Illinois the cool evening of June 12, 1922. Thunder rumbled overhead and there was bright
lightening off to the east. Across the street from the sinister men was the old
Orpheum Theater where the Buick they were eyeing was parked.
“How about that one…that Buick?”
John Schoor looked at his leader Rolla Spaulding for
an answer to his question. They watched
the family get out of the car and walk away.
“Perfect! Let’s take it.”
The three men all police characters and suspects every
time a car came up missing hurried across the street. Two of them acted as
lookouts as the third one quickly entered the car, hot wired the ignition and
off they went, laughing all the way. Once on the campus of Bradley Polytechnic
Harry Folks hopped out of the Buick and took off in a stolen Dodge heading for
Easton Road and Sterling, right there by what is now known as Newman Golf
Course. Followed by the Buick, the men were soon busy in the darkness stripping
down both cars. Only a thin light from a flashlight could be seen in the
darkness.
BACK ON DUTY
Constable Arthur T. Smith and his partner Constable
Joe Turner had just finished their supper and were back in the patrol car ready
for action. They had authority in the City of Peoria and out in the county, a
vast area mostly north of the city. These two men were special officers in that
they held elected positions. Each year
five of them were elected and these two were on their second terms. They were not members of the park district,
the city force or the county sheriff’s department…and that of course made them
unique.
Meanwhile the Buick owner, N.C. Race, sat in the movie
theater enjoying his family and the double feature. Actually his Buick had been
stolen once before…which he felt was a once in a lifetime experience. Or so he thought.
Arthur and Joe were old friends and although they
competed for the job every year, they supported each other win or lose. “Looks
pretty bad out, Joe, bet we have a quiet night.”
“I hope so, Art, I could use one. Ain’t been sleeping too well, the damn sun
light I reckon.”
The territory as I mentioned was vast and both men
spent most of the evening just driving around.
Easton Road skirted what we now call Bradley Park and was really the
park districts area. Nobody argued the
point, and all the constables got along with the other departments. The
constables did not have any radios in their cars, and if they got in trouble
they knew they were pretty much on their own. As they rounded the slight curve
on Easton they spotted two dark forms pulled off the road.
“Joe we better check this out.”
Turner stayed in the car as Smith snapped on his small
flashlight and continued on his way to see what they had seen. I hope it
interest you to know that by 1922 there were 10 million flashlights in use.
“Hey…Constable Smith here…what are these cars parked
here for?”
Silence.
“Hey…hold it…”
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
In the darkness the gunfire flashes came from the rear
seat of the Buick which was parked off the road near the Dodge. The first slug whizzed past Smith, but the
second one struck him in the left shoulder. A third shot quickly followed
striking the hapless constable in the stomach, the fourth hit him directly in
the heart. He crumbled to his knees then fell face forward on to the gravel
road. By the time his partner reached
him, Constable Arthur Smith was dead.
When Constable Turner heard the first shot his
instinct was to duck down below the dash boar. After the final shot he eased
his way out of the driver’s side of the car and ducked behind the front
fender. Out of the car now his gun drawn
he tried to peer into the darkness.
“Art…Arthur are you okay?” He
heard scurrying footsteps and only then did he chance turning on his
flashlight. Furtively he crept forward
trying to stay low as he inched along, calling out as he walked. He began to whisper. “Art…Art are you okay?”
As he stood silently the moon popped out, the rain was
gone and he stayed in one spot moving his flashlight about. “Art…where are you?”
The moon helped him spot his partner as he ran to his
friend lying at the side of the road partially in the weeds along the side of
the road. “Arthur!” Turner gently turned his friend over on his
back. “My God Arthur…are you hit?”
Constable Smith did not answer.
OTHERS HEAR THE
SHOT
Two Park Police officers heard what they thought was a
shot…maybe three or more. Officer Charles Esken and his partner jumped in to
their old Ford and raced east where they thought the shots had come from. Esken
noted that it was 9:18 PM. They raced up, coming to a quick stop as both doors
flew open.
Turner waved his flashlight. “It’s Art…he’s been shot.”
“You guys stay here,” Esken said, “I’ll go over to the
park pavilion and call it in.” Actually,
Esken could not use the phone there and had to go all the way over to Main
Street to get help.
Fifteen minutes later the dark county road was a busy
spot with car lights and cops bathing the scene in spotlights and car lights.
Later bloodhounds were brought to the scene and Peoria detectives sought to
find out exactly what had happened way out there in the boondocks.
Detective Wetly from the city gathered the information
on the cars, starting with the licenses plates and did a thorough search of the
car’s interiors. Actually there were
three cars there, two stolen and one registered in the name of Rolla E. Spaulding. Now there was a man the police knew
very well, and from the scene that single clue was just about all the
detectives needed. Actually the police were looking for him as a suspect in
some burglaries and now they had him for car theft as well. All they had to do was apprehend him. Inside the Buick were four spent shells, and
in the Dodge was a box of shells that matched those that had been fired. So the constables had come upon the thieves
stripping those two cars and now Constable Smith lay dead. It was going to be a busy time for them
finding Spaulding, but they knew a lot about their man…and they meant to
capitalize on all of it.
A call went out to round up the usual suspects, a
trick the cops pulled off regularly in Peoria, Illinois. The truth was that almost all the bad guys
had been identified in Peoria, and one by one they were picked up and
questioned. The cops found that by
threatening them usually one or more of them were more than happy to tell them
all they needed to know. As luck would
have it Mr. Spaulding was not caught up in the police net but his pal Henry
Folks was among the goons they captured.
Police found him to be a talkative cuss, and they
needed all the help they could get.
Coroner Elliot had arrived at the scene and took
charge of the constable’s body. He had the body removed to the Boland Mortuary
where an autopsy would be performed.
All during the night the police search continued
involving all the local departments as well as the sheriff’s department. When
the sun came up and the search party retired, suspected killer Rolla Spaulding
was nowhere to be found.
THE INVESTIGATION
CONTINUES
It was the snitch Henry Folks that first brought up
the name of John Schoor, a name the police were also well aware of. They listened with a bit of nonchalance so
that Henry did not clam up. Plied with
some coffee and donuts, the officer even handed Henry a big cigar. He talked to his ‘buddies’ for over three
hours and seemed to enjoy himself. Folks
told the police that Schoor was a big buddy of Rolla Spaulding. “Find him and you got Spaulding,” Henry said
and late that afternoon, Henry Folks was a free man.
Every man that wore a badge was looking for Schoor but
he was nowhere to be found. A few cops
were standing at the sergeant’s desk when a man in a rumple suit walked
in. He was smiling and carrying a brown
paper bag.
“I understand your guys are looking for me?”
“You are?”
“John Schoor.”
That got everyone’s attention rather quickly. “We
certainly are Mr. Schoor. Thank you for coming in.”
Four hours later Mr. Schoor had pretty well convinced
the detectives that he did not know Rolla Spaulding at all. Skeptics, of course, but they tried as hard
as they could to get him to talk about Spaulding but nothing worked. The cops
tossed Schoor back in his cell to cool his heels a bit while they kept looking
for Rolla Spaulding.
One thing the culprit could not explain to the cop’s
satisfaction was his wet clothing and muddy boots. That evening Schoor admitted
that he was out in the storm and that he was with Spaulding earlier in the day
but that he was not with him out on Easton Road. Of course the police did not
believe him but they were making headway…and of course…Schoor was back in his
cell.
So the fish were let out of the police net one after
the other. Some had given a bit of
information here and there, and the others promised to notify the police if
they saw Spaulding. The police rarely
believed a word they were told but they had time on their hands…so they let
them all lose.
The detectives added up what they had. They knew where Henry Folks lived, they had
Schoor in jail and they had two guns, the two cars and some empty and loaded
shells.
THE INQUEST
Coroner Elliott gathered everyone he could find
connected with the killing and called his hearing to order. The small hearing room was filled to capacity
with cops, reporters and witnesses. The local newspapers had not been kind to
Constable Turner hinting that he should have done more to protect his
partner. The jury even questioned the
officer.
“Why didn’t you fire your weapon Constable?”
“Because of our
strict procedure that’s why. I was the driver. I was to stay in the car. Also,
had I jumped out and turned on my flashlight I could have been an easy target.”
Officer after office followed Turner and then the
medical examiner was called to indicate the cause of death. Dr. Maurer told in
grim detail how the constable had met his death.
“He was hit by three slugs,” the old physician testified.
“The one that hit his heart killed him instantly, maybe before he hit the ground.” He looked over at the jury, “Yep, killed him
stone dead.”
The coroner’s jury reached a verdict of murder and
recommended that the police continue their investigation into the person or
persons guilty of the constable’s murder.
They also suggested that the man be held for murder without bail.
That was easy for them to say since the police were
pretty much at a stand still. All they
had, and they meant to cling to him was John Schoor. Actually they had nothing
on him but until a lawyer stepped up and demanded his release they aimed to hold
on to him. Meanwhile all the honors they could bestow on a comrade in arms were
being planned for the funeral. Once
Smith was buried with honors he slipped into oblivion until a writer in Peoria,
Illinois brought his memory back to the City of Peoria. His name was then put on three police
monuments In Peoria, Springfield and Washington DC.
TO HONOR CONSTABLE
SMITH
The funeral was held in Smith’s home over at 2040
Knoxville in Peoria, Illinois. The
constable left behind his widow, Florence and his two children, Willie age 9
and Mary Kathleen age 4. Art’s brother and mother also survived his death. A requiem Mass was held at Saint Bernard and
the constable was buried at Saint Mary’s Cemetery. The deceased officer was
born in Livingston County in 1887 and was all of 34 when he was killed.
Police turned up the heat by soliciting police
departments all over the area in the search for Rolla Spaulding but when all
was said and done they did not have their man.
A headline in the local newspapers on June 17, 1922 sounded promising: ‘NEW CLUE TO SMITH MURDER.’
Sounds good but it turned out to be shocking more than
anything else. It seems Mr. John Tegg
had a story to tell so he went directly to the local news reporters. He said he was driving out near the murder
scene when he saw the two constables inside the police car with two bob-headed
women in the back seat talking to the officers. Wow…this was pretty wild news
back in 1922 I can tell you that. Mr.
Tegg further stated that “I know Constable Turner very well and I know that one
of the men was Turner.” He saw them get
out of the car and walk over to a couple of parked cars. “I did not stop because it was none of my
business.” Now what were the do-gooders
in old Peoria to think of that statement?
Tegg’s statement caused quite an uproar to say the
least and the reporters headed for the chief of police to confront him and
Constable Turner. Constable Turner held up his hands and shook his head. “There
is not a word of truth in it. It is hard
to see your friend shot down in cold blood and I swear every word I said at the
coroner’s inquest was the truth by all that’s holy. As for the women none of my
friends believe that story. It was very dark out there and any witness that
said they could see anything…let alone women…is a liar.”
A day later rumors flew, there was a lot of gossip,
but most Peorians believed Turner. The
newspapers reported that Rolla Spaulding was seen out at El Frisco Beach. Nothing came of that and then the local
newspapers sold a few more papers with a story that posed as a question.
PEORIA
MURDER WITNESS SLAIN?
Peorians assumed that John Schoor was still in jail
but according to the paper maybe his body was found out in the boonies covered
with weeds.
It was now July 10, 1922 and the paper tried to keep
the exciting murder actively selling papers. Was this just another pitch on
their part?
Schoor’s mother told police and the press that her son
had been kidnapped one July night by a man named Ray ‘Red’ Keith. She was
afraid to call police and she was now certain that the body they found was her
son, John Schoor. Police say that the
body was found out at Atwater Woods near Havana. So take the poor woman to see the body. Police refused at the time and folks around
here were really exasperated. One
officer said, “ it was too gruesome”
People just shook their heads and waited for the next shoe to fall.
ROLLA SPAULDING
CALLING
Deputy Minor took the call. “Hello…this is Rolla Spaulding, I’m back in
town.”
Minor waved at some men to quiet them down. He raised his voice. “You say you are Rolla
Spaulding?”
“Yes, I’m in town over here at the Jefferson Hotel.
You can come over and get me.”
At the hotel a handsome man, dressed to the nines
answered the door.
“Are you Deputy Minor?”
“Yes, are you Rolla Spaulding?”
“I am. Do you have a warrant for me?”
“No. We have one but I don’t have it. Do you still want to come with me now?”
“I do.”
And so, Spaulding exchanged the fancy hotel room for a
cell in the old county jail. Mr. Pratt, our state’s Attorney, went over to the
jail and served the warrant on Spaulding personally.
Spaulding spoke briefly to the press until he was told
to shut up by his lawyer.
“They may have found my car out there, but I assure
you I had nothing to do with shooting Constable Smith.”
The next day folks were drawn to the case again by
something that was printed in the local newspapers.
“I am going away. I shot Arthur Smith. I
had Rolla’s Spaulding’s car. The accident happened at a place near Bradley
Park. I got even with the police who
beat me up. These are my fingerprints.
Signed: John Schoor.
So…the folks in Peorian thought…this is why Rolla
Spaulding surrendered. If that body out
there in the weeds was not Schoor then who was it? Aha…the plot thickens.
The answer to all the speculation was allowed to soak
in over night. The newspapers had
another headline that would surely sell some more papers. They were right.
BODY IS
JOHN SCHOOR
Now of course they had no fancy DNA…no real forensics
but the police had a skull and some clothing that John’s mother had
identified. Hell, that’s all they needed in those days. Later they admitted that the skull was pure
white, and that there was a neat hole in the forehead. Police maintained that the teeth were
recognized by the mother and that experts also examined the skull.
An article summarized what they had so far. Police had
a letter of confession from John Schoor.
A skull, teeth and clothing said to belong to John Schoor. They also had some spent and loaded
shells. Rolla Spaulding had turned
himself in but denied the murder. So what
was next?
Police said a farmer out near the cabin where John was
found said that a man named Robert Jackson was really Rolla Spaulding.. Both Keith brothers were arrested and they
were taking the case to the Grand Jury.
There was a lot of talk around town about Prohibition
and the dry agents that tried to enforce the Volstead act. So far, 124 of the 3,500 agents had been
killed in the line of duty. I can tell you that here in Peoria the local police
department was not part of the Volstead ‘cops,’ and getting a drink here was
very easy.
SPAULDING TO FACE TRIAL TOMORROW
So the grand jury indicted Spaulding for murder and as
the weeks went by a date and time for his trial was made and the local folks
relaxed a bit. Of course a change of
venue was requested…but denied. The
defense wanted the case out of Peoria County.
An appeal was made and folks were irritated to learn that the trial
would be held in Toulon, Illinois which was in Stark County. The real shocker came when the judge ruled
that it would be tried in 1923. No
way…as they would say today. Way
someone could reply. 1923 was the year
but when?
FEBRUARY
20, 1923
So the big day dawned in beautiful downtown Toulon and
the crowds flocked in hoping to get a seat.
Many were disappointed as the process to pick a jury continued. In all
52 witnesses were subpoenaed and after the jury was picked, the case began.
It was very quiet in the courtroom as a deputy,
carrying a box under his arm, walked over to the prosecutor’s desk and sat it
down. All eyes were on that box. Now what on earth was in that box? It sat
there for an hour or so before the prosecutor for the People walked over to it.
He looked over at the jury, then the judge. Almost in a magic like move he had
the stark white skull of John Schoor held out in his right hand! There were audible gasps heard from many
spectators as well as the jury.
Quickly he walked over to the jury, skull held
high. “This is John Schoor. He was killed so he would remain silent
during this trial.”
Objections flew from the defense and the judge was
seen…but not heard…banging his gavel on the hard old oak wood bench. The judge
demanded a fifteen minute break. The
attorney for the people looked satisfied as he plopped in his seat. Being dramatic took some effort.
THE TRIAL CONTINUES
All eyes were fixed on the skull of John Schoor which
was admitted into evidence. The judge
added another warning for the spectators to remain quite and he nodded for the
next witness.
The next day the prosecution rested and as hoped, the defendant
Rolla Spaulding took the witness stand in his own defense. He was told by the judge as well that he did
not have to testify…but he did.
It was Friday February 23, 1923 when the tall.
Handsome man dressed in a beautiful brown suit with matching tie took the
stand. He smiled and nodded to the jury
as his attorney walked up next to him.
They both smiled at each other. Rolla was a nice, kind man, all this
told the jury he was just a decent man that was wrongly accused. Listen folks…he will tell you the honest
truth. The two old ‘pals’ had a nice, enjoyable conversation about who Rolla
really was, and the kind things he had done in his life. Hell…even a few of the jurors smiled at the
conversation.
“Did you shoot and kill Constable Smith?”
With a dramatic gesture and a shake of the head,
Spaulding replied. “Sir, I did not shoot Constable Smith or any other
man.” The defense lawyer looked over at
the jury…he smiled, then looked over at the judge. “Your honor the defense
rests.”
Well, I can tell you the prosecution did not rest and
the cross-examination was brutal and bombastic.
For over two hours the People’s lawyer went after the defendant, and adding
to the assault, put on four rebuttal witnesses. Finally, an exhausted
prosecutor rested the State’s case. Next
would be the closing arguments. In early
evening the jury had the case. Was he
found guilty or not guilty?
SPAULDING GUILTY, SAYS JURY
Life in prison was the sentence and Spaulding was
taken back to the county Jail in Peoria, Illinois. He did not leave immediately for the Illinois
State Prison because he faced another trial over in Havana, Illinois. But since this is about Constable Smith let’s
stop here with
the satisfaction that he paid for the murder of one of
our finest constables. As I mentioned his name is now on the memorials in
Peoria, Springfield, and Washington DC.
I also included his story in my book OFFICER DOWN.
Editor’s note: Norm
is a Peoria historian and author. He
welcomes your comments.
norman.kelly@sbcglobal.net
.
