Post by Sue on Apr 10, 2022 20:07:58 GMT -5
How I Became a Girl Reporter
by Hyman Goldberg
Published in 1950
Pages 64-67
Like every reporter in New York at the time, I worked on the Lindbergh kidnaping story when Bruno Richard Hauptmann was arrested. The kidnaper's lawyer announced one day that the defense would, at the proper time, produce several witnesses who would supply Hauptmann with an unshakable alibi. The witnesses, he said, were a man and wife named Frederiksen, who had operated a bakery-luncheonette in the Bronx, where the kidnaper's wife, Anna, had worked at the time of the kidnaping.
"On the night of the kidnaping," the lawyer said at a press conference, "Hauptmann was in this bakery, waiting for his wife to finish her work so he could take her home. He was there all through the hours when, it has been established, this baby could have been kidnaped."
Every newspaper in town promptly assigned packs of reporters to find these witnesses. But, in the years that had intervened, the Frederiksen couple had sold the bakery where Anna Hauptmann had worked, and had bought still another bakery, and then sold that one too.
Days went by and no one found them. Several reporters on my paper had spent many hours trying to trace the couple, and then [Walter] Lister gave me the assignment. I went to the Throggs Neck section of the Bronx, and visited the bakery where Mrs. Hauptmann had worked.
"Omigod ," said the owner of the store, when I told him I was looking for his predecessor, "another one. I'm sick and tired of you people. I don't know where the Frederiksens are, and I'm sorry I ever bought this place from them, and get out before I throw you out."
Then I went to the place next door, a candy store. Not for information, but for a coke. It was a hot day and I thought it was silly to have to go over the same ground that so many other reporters, including several from my own paper who had told me about their search, had covered .
I sat on a stool sipping my drink, listening to the people in the place talking about the kidnaping, of course. I was a stranger, but they dragged me into the conversation too. When the other customers left I hung around, because it seemed as good a place as any other to kill enough time before it would be all right to call my office and say that I had had no luck. After an hour or so of gossiping with the woman who ran the store, I told her I was a reporter and what I was supposed to be doing.
"You know," she said, "there were a lot of reporters here the last couple of days looking for those people who used to be next door in the bakery. I was thinking about it, and talking with my husband, and I just remembered this morning that when they were here they bought a lot of furniture, tables and chairs for the bakery, and furniture for their own home. They bought from the furniture store on the next block; it's a place where they sell furniture on the installment plan. Maybe the furniture man knows where they are."
I went to the furniture store where the proprietor was surprised and shocked to hear that his customers were mixed up in the Lindbergh kidnaping.
"Sure," he said, "I read about those people, and I heard about them on the radio, but I never connected them with my customers."
He took me back to his office, looked in a ledger and gave me an address. I ran the few blocks and found Mrs. Kate Frederiksen at home. She spoke freely and at length. She remembered the night of the kidnaping and remembered vividly, she said, that Hauptmann had been there from early evening until late at night, all through the hours when the kidnaping could have been done. At one point in her narrative I interrupted her.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I have to run to a telephone to call my office now. I'll come back later and talk to you some more."
"Why," she said, "should you have to run to a telephone? You want to telephone, I got
a telephone."
I stared at her.
"You mean," I asked, "that you have a telephone in this house?"
She grew angry with me.
"Why shouldn't I have a telephone," she asked indignantly." There's something wrong with having a telephone?"
I assured her it was wonderful for her to have a telephone. I called my office from her phone, and Lister shouted with enthusiasm when I told him I had found the alibi witness and that I had an interview. I gave the story to a rewrite man while Mrs. Frederiksen listened to it. Then I talked with her some more and called my office again and gave them something to add to the story. Lister told me to come into the office immediately because he wanted to talk to me. He sounded happy.
When I came into the office he wanted to know how I found the woman. I told him I had scoured the neighborhood and discovered that the bakery people had bought stuff on the installment plan, that I had then scoured some more and found the installment place, and had obtained her address there, because they were still paying for the furniture they had bought. Lister listened with great interest and then slapped me on the back and said I would find an additional $10.00 in my pay envelope that week and every week thereafter.
I didn't tell him then, of course, or at any other time, that the bakery people had a telephone in their home, and that, like everyone else interested in them, I hadn't thought to look for them in the phone book, where they were listed. He dearly loved a detective story and I hated to disillusion him.
by Hyman Goldberg
Published in 1950
Pages 64-67
Like every reporter in New York at the time, I worked on the Lindbergh kidnaping story when Bruno Richard Hauptmann was arrested. The kidnaper's lawyer announced one day that the defense would, at the proper time, produce several witnesses who would supply Hauptmann with an unshakable alibi. The witnesses, he said, were a man and wife named Frederiksen, who had operated a bakery-luncheonette in the Bronx, where the kidnaper's wife, Anna, had worked at the time of the kidnaping.
"On the night of the kidnaping," the lawyer said at a press conference, "Hauptmann was in this bakery, waiting for his wife to finish her work so he could take her home. He was there all through the hours when, it has been established, this baby could have been kidnaped."
Every newspaper in town promptly assigned packs of reporters to find these witnesses. But, in the years that had intervened, the Frederiksen couple had sold the bakery where Anna Hauptmann had worked, and had bought still another bakery, and then sold that one too.
Days went by and no one found them. Several reporters on my paper had spent many hours trying to trace the couple, and then [Walter] Lister gave me the assignment. I went to the Throggs Neck section of the Bronx, and visited the bakery where Mrs. Hauptmann had worked.
"Omigod ," said the owner of the store, when I told him I was looking for his predecessor, "another one. I'm sick and tired of you people. I don't know where the Frederiksens are, and I'm sorry I ever bought this place from them, and get out before I throw you out."
Then I went to the place next door, a candy store. Not for information, but for a coke. It was a hot day and I thought it was silly to have to go over the same ground that so many other reporters, including several from my own paper who had told me about their search, had covered .
I sat on a stool sipping my drink, listening to the people in the place talking about the kidnaping, of course. I was a stranger, but they dragged me into the conversation too. When the other customers left I hung around, because it seemed as good a place as any other to kill enough time before it would be all right to call my office and say that I had had no luck. After an hour or so of gossiping with the woman who ran the store, I told her I was a reporter and what I was supposed to be doing.
"You know," she said, "there were a lot of reporters here the last couple of days looking for those people who used to be next door in the bakery. I was thinking about it, and talking with my husband, and I just remembered this morning that when they were here they bought a lot of furniture, tables and chairs for the bakery, and furniture for their own home. They bought from the furniture store on the next block; it's a place where they sell furniture on the installment plan. Maybe the furniture man knows where they are."
I went to the furniture store where the proprietor was surprised and shocked to hear that his customers were mixed up in the Lindbergh kidnaping.
"Sure," he said, "I read about those people, and I heard about them on the radio, but I never connected them with my customers."
He took me back to his office, looked in a ledger and gave me an address. I ran the few blocks and found Mrs. Kate Frederiksen at home. She spoke freely and at length. She remembered the night of the kidnaping and remembered vividly, she said, that Hauptmann had been there from early evening until late at night, all through the hours when the kidnaping could have been done. At one point in her narrative I interrupted her.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I have to run to a telephone to call my office now. I'll come back later and talk to you some more."
"Why," she said, "should you have to run to a telephone? You want to telephone, I got
a telephone."
I stared at her.
"You mean," I asked, "that you have a telephone in this house?"
She grew angry with me.
"Why shouldn't I have a telephone," she asked indignantly." There's something wrong with having a telephone?"
I assured her it was wonderful for her to have a telephone. I called my office from her phone, and Lister shouted with enthusiasm when I told him I had found the alibi witness and that I had an interview. I gave the story to a rewrite man while Mrs. Frederiksen listened to it. Then I talked with her some more and called my office again and gave them something to add to the story. Lister told me to come into the office immediately because he wanted to talk to me. He sounded happy.
When I came into the office he wanted to know how I found the woman. I told him I had scoured the neighborhood and discovered that the bakery people had bought stuff on the installment plan, that I had then scoured some more and found the installment place, and had obtained her address there, because they were still paying for the furniture they had bought. Lister listened with great interest and then slapped me on the back and said I would find an additional $10.00 in my pay envelope that week and every week thereafter.
I didn't tell him then, of course, or at any other time, that the bakery people had a telephone in their home, and that, like everyone else interested in them, I hadn't thought to look for them in the phone book, where they were listed. He dearly loved a detective story and I hated to disillusion him.