Foul Murder

The stupid unromance of banditry never loomed more starkly than when six greasy Mexicans kidnaped during the week a retired Long Island butcher, Jacob Rosenthal, 62.

Convivial weekend. Mr. Rosen-thai was in Mexico City on a business trip with his son-in-law, Joseph Ruff, Manhattan exporter. One Jack J. Zahler, rich candy manufacturer, vice president x)f the American Chamber of Commerce in Mexico City, invited them to accompany him to the convivial week-end resort of Cuernavaca, a three-hour motor ride from Mexico City. With them, in Mr. Zahler's motor, rode Mrs. Zahler, young, petite, personable, wearing what she afterwards declared to be $8,000 worth of jewels.

The week-end passed swiftly amid those diversions which have made Cuernavaca attractive to many Americans--among them U. S. Ambassador Sheffield. As their car left on the return journey to Mexico City, the Zahlers, Mr. Ruff and Mr. Rosenthal were described as "laughing and chatting loudly."

Bandits. Just outside Cuernavaca the bandits waited. Wide belts, slovenly, half full of cartridges, maintained contact between their sleazy trousers and torn cotton shirts. Rain began to fall, soddened their straw sombreros, shortened their tempers. Crouching behind dripping bushes, they waited on either side of the Cuernavaca-Mexico City road at a place where the grade is so steep as to make crawling upward in low gear the only possibility.

The Zahler car approached, its gears whining softly, rain coursing down the windshield. At the bandit cry of "Halt!" Mrs. Zahler, nimble-fingered, tore off her jewels and slipped them under the seat.

The bandit leader, a slim dark-skinned Mexican Indian, approached with drawn revolver, shrilled: "Climb down! Get out into the road!" Soon deft bandit fingers caressed the fat wallets of Mr. Ruff and Mr. Zahler, found a check book and some small change on Mr. Rosenthal. Louts, the bandits searched intensively without finding Mrs. Zahler's jewels. . . .

Quick. Suddenly the screech of brakes was heard far up the hill. One Hedley V. Quick, an employe of the Anglo-American Bank of Mexico City, was slithering down the grade, en route to Cuernavaca. So steep is the hill that Mr. Quick could not stop when commanded to halt by the bandits. Two shots ripped through his side curtains. Then, resourceful, Mr. Quick took his foot from the brake, plunged it down upon the gas. His car, bounding, lurching, sped down the hill. Half a mile farther on he met First-Secretary Arthur Bliss Lane of the U. S. Embassy, motoring toward Mexico City with his wife and daughter. Warned by Mr. Quick the Lanes turned round, sped back to Cuernavaca.

Kidnaping. Meanwhile the bandit leader had ordered Joseph Ruff and the Zahlers back into their car. "This is the man we want!" he said pointing to Mr. Rosenthal, who stood shivering in the rain, clad only in a thin summer suit.

"You've got our valuables, what more do you want!" cried Mr. Zahler, "At least let me give Mr. Rosenthal his overcoat. He is an old man."

"Shut up and get out of here quick!" shrilled the bandit leader.

"Please!" cried Mr. Ruff, "Mr. Rosenthal is my father-in-law. Please let him go and let me take his place!"

The bandit leader twirled his revolver. "I, me, myself," he said, "will shoot the whole lot of you if you do not drive at once to Cuernavaca and give this note to the military commandant there. It is a short note. It reads: 'If we are pursued we will shoot our prisoner. . . .'"

Telegram. A few hours later Mrs. Ruff received at her home in Woodmere, L. I., a telegram from her husband: "Papa kidnaped. No danger. Expect release today." Distracted, Mrs. Ruff sought her mother, Mrs. Rosenthal. She, courageous, left at once, alone, for Mexico City.

Ruse. Most unfortunately the Mexican authorities attempted to deal craftily with the bandits who had finally sent word that they would release Mr. Rosenthal upon payment of $10,000 in gold.*

One General Jesus Lopez des-patched two soldiers in civilian dress to parley with the bandits and assure them that so large a ransom could not be raised for another 24 hours. The soldiers rode out, one carrying over his arm a brakeman's lantern. Though they proceeded to the spot designated for payment of the ransom they saw no bandits.

Vexed, General Jesus Lopez rode out himself with a detachment of soldiers. They espied the bandits, ordered them to halt, fired upon them.

Instantly the bandits thrust Mr. Rosenthal before them. Worn and listless after three nights in the open, he staggered. As the soldiers kept up their fire two bandits drew their machetes, plunged them again and again into Mr; Rosenthal, finally fired two shots into his back. He, reeling, walked ten yards toward his would-be rescuers, pitched forward, dead.

The soldiers of General Jesus

Lopez at once fired again upon the bandits, killed three of them. Upon examination these proved to be General Bonifacio Hinojosa, onetime Mayor of Huitzilac, Miguel Garcia, jail warden of Huitzilac, and one Juan Ortiz.

Aftermath. Secretary Kellogg at once despatched a note to the Mexican Government demanding that every effort be made to punish Mr. Rosenthal's slayers.

The Calles Administration thereupon authorized General Jesus Lopez to take extreme measures.

Promptly three arrested suspects were placed in a line of 50 prisoners and Mr. Ruff, Mr. Rosenthal's son-in-law, was invited to identify them if he could. Frantic, he not only identified the men at once but begged the police to give him a gun that he might shoot them. A few hours afterwards the authorities announced that the three prisoners had been shot by the police as they endeavored to escape.

Meanwhile General Jesus Lopez had been active, had caused his soldiers to hang six bandits from poles near the spot where Mr. Rosenthal was kidnaped.

* The Rosenthal's Manhattan attorney Alfred Lind said in a letter to Secretary of State Kellogg last week: "Mr. Rosenthal's life was worth far more than any ransom which would have been demanded. In all our broad land there could not be found a finer type of American citizen."

Mr. Rosenthal was, in fact, greatly respected by his friends in Manhattan and Brooklyn. He was a member of the Olympic Lodge, Kismet Temple, Ancient Order of the Mystic Shrine of Brooklyn, and owned several tenements which he kept in exemplary repair.

Yet when the country awoke last week to read of the murder of Jacob Rosenthal there flashed at once into many minds remembrance of another murdered man of the same name whose death stirred the country 14 years ago. This man, no relation to Jacob Rosenthal, was the notorious Manhattan gambler Herman Rosenthal who, in 1912, was allegedly operating a gambling establishment in which Lieutenant Becker of the New York police held a silent partnership. They quarreled. Reputedly Lieutenant Becker hired to kill Gambler Rosenthal five gunmen: "Gyp the Blood" Horowitz, "Lefty Louie," "Whitey" Lewis, "Schlaap" Schlepp, and "Dago Frank."

Rosenthal, hearing of the plot, grew frantic, said to his wife: "They'll get me sure as fate!" They "got" Rosenthal next evening as he left the Hotel Metropole. Four policemen stood idly by while the gunmen swept up in a big grey touring car and shot Rosenthal dead.

So indifferent were the police that Rosenthal's body was not moved from where it fell until long after extras describing the crime had been printed and actually hawked within a few feet of where the corpse lay covered by a table cloth from the Metropole restaurant.

For eight days no investigation of the crime was made, then public opinion kindled and Becker and his gunmen were sent to the electric chair.