Post by bookrefuge on Jun 21, 2012 12:30:03 GMT -5
I apologize for starting a new thread on Robert Zorn’s book Cemetery John: the Undiscovered Mastermind of the Lindbergh Kidnapping. But since it’s no longer just a publication “news” item, and since the title has changed, I thought it would be proper, and helpful for future researchers, to initiate a discussion of Zorn’s theory in this section of the board.
I have now finished the book, in which Zorn claims that Cemetery John was John Knoll, a Bronx neighbor of Zorn’s father Eugene. Knoll was a German immigrant. Zorn believes the kidnapping and extortion were carried out by Knoll, along with Knoll’s younger brother Walter, and Bruno Richard Hauptmann.
Zorn has a pleasant and concise writing style, so the book was not a bore for me, even after reading 10 or so other titles on the subject. Zorn also takes a unique approach to the crime by consulting a large number of modern experts (profilers, handwriting and forensic analysts, etc.), including our contributor Kevkon. I was a little surprised that he didn’t consult Michael, who probably knows more about the case than anyone on the planet.
I do want to say (and this is NOT a reference to Kevkon or Michael), that one must not rush to accept an opinion because someone is an “expert.” I have seen too many experts be wrong. I recall that during the Beltway sniper attacks, before they caught Muhammed and Malvo, “experts” were on the news profiling the attacks as the work of “one man,” “probably white,” motivated by “anger at the government,” and they were wrong on all counts. In regards to the LKC, trying to profile John Knoll, who is long dead, based on limited information we have about him, and then conclude he was the Lindbergh kidnapper, is a process we should be guarded about.
As I’ve mentioned in another thread, the spark that inspired the book was this: Zorn’s father, as a teenager, was invited to Palisades Park during the summer of 1931 by his neighbor John Knoll. Zorn said he went swimming; it sounds like it was a hot day. At the Park, Knoll met his brother and a man named “Bruno.” Zorn’s father overheard them speak in German and they mentioned “Englewood.” In the book, Zorn comes back to this incident many, many times, but I personally find it unremarkable.
-- To our knowledge, Hauptmann never went by “Bruno” in the US. Zorn finally gets to this at the very end of the book, but dismisses it by saying Knoll liked to call people by nicknames (p. 275).
--The Hauptmanns took a 3-month road trip to California during the summer of ’31. I don’t know if Zorn is aware of this. Since they left in early July, it still could mean Zorn’s father overheard BRH in the EARLY summer—but it seems unlikely that BRH would take a 3-month vacation in the midst of planning the “the Crime of the Century.”
--the mere mention of “Englewood” is in no way incriminating or even unusual. Englewood is practically next door to Palisades Park. The German conversation, translated, could have been something as simple as “I just tried that new restaurant over in Englewood.” Zorn had no recollection of words like “Lindbergh,” “Hopewell,” or “baby,” which would have given the conversation true significance.
After parting company with Zorn’s father that day, Zorn matter-of-factly says: “The three men surveyed the Morrow estate on the day of their rendezvous at Palisades Park.” (p. 258) How could Zorn possibly know that? And if Knoll was going to a “rendezvous” at the park to plan the Crime of the Century, why would he let his 15-year-old neighbor tag along?
Zorn has an answer for that too, citing an expert on psychopathology. Zorn writes:
In other words, Knoll WANTED Zorn’s father to figure out the crime, and was leaving little clues—he WANTED to get caught-- just not too soon, apparently. This is one reason I say we need to be guarded sometimes about “experts.” Just like an attorney, an author can usually find an expert to back up a theory.
Citing evidence that John Knoll was egotistical, Zorn and his profilers label him a “mastermind,” “ringleader,” and “manipulator.” Hauptmann is cast in the role of “compliant follower.”
But would Hauptmann really take orders from someone like Knoll? Let’s dump the psychological profiling for a minute, and just consider the facts:
At the time of the kidnapping, Hauptmann was 32; the Knoll brothers 27 and 22 respectively.
In terms of social standing, BRH was a professional carpenter; he and Anna lived in $50-a month home; Knoll was a deli clerk and lived in a $10-a month flat.
Hauptmann was also a wounded war veteran; the Knolls were just boys at the time of the war.
I don’t see BRH taking orders from Knoll as a “compliant follower.”
Now, other than hearing Knoll greet someone called “Bruno” at Palisades Park, what evidence does Zorn present that Knoll knew BRH? Only this:
Knoll had a drinking buddy named Oscar Rietschel. Rietschel was originally from Kamenz, Hauptmann’s town in Germany. And in Kamenz the Rietschel family lived only 125 yards from the Hauptmanns. Zorn concludes that the Rietschels knew the Hauptmanns in Germany, and I agree, that is very probable.
However, Zorn produces no proof that Rietschel associated with BRH in the Bronx, and certainly no proof that BRH and Knoll were friends. Zorn is acting on two assumptions here: that Rietschel knew Hauptmann, and that Knoll knew Rietschel’s friends.
But one cannot presume that. For example, I have a good friend named Bill. But Bill has many other friends who I’ve never met. One cannot presume that because I know Bill, I also know Bill’s friends. But that is Zorn’s thinking.
I should mention that, other than being German immigrants, Knoll and BRH had little in common. Zorn says Knoll was a heavy drinker, and a womanizer; his first wife was a showgirl. Doesn’t sound like a “friend” match for BRH, who was an outdoorsman, loving hunting and canoeing. Nowhere does Zorn describe Knoll as outdoorsy. Nor would their professions have brought them together in the bond of working together—one was a carpenter, the other a deli clerk. So where this friendship originated, if it ever actually happened, is a mystery. However, to criticize my own criticism, Isidor Fisch wasn’t much like Hauptmann, either; yet they wound up being friends.
But if BRH really went to the electric chair to save the Knoll brothers—as Zorn asserts—there should have been a tremendous bond between them; close enough that Anna should probably have known them.
OK, now what evidence does Zorn produce that John Knoll was Cemetery John?
Well, he does look like the police sketches of CJ—although as Michael as pointed out, Zorn uses the “evolved” sketches, not the original one, which resembles Knoll less.
And of course, CJ told Condon his name was “John.” But I don’t have to tell readers of this board, not only is John an extremely common name, but it is likely that CJ gave Condon a phony name. “John” is an often-used alias; how many couples have checked into hotel rooms as “Mr. and Mrs. John Smith”?
It was mostly John F. Condon who gave us our description of CJ. In Zorn’s book, he relies on Jafsie Tells All as if it were gospel. Although he admits Condon was “arrogant and opinionated,” NOWHERE in the book does Zorn acknowledge that Condon was caught in dozens of lies. Apparently this is because he wants Condon to be “reliable,” so that we can accept the associations between Condon’s descriptions and John Knoll.
Even here, though, Zorn cherry-picks his data. Condon estimated CJ’s weight as 158 to 165 pounds. Zorn then cites old records showing Knoll’s weight as 164 and 167. Good match, right?
But hold on—there’s a very important feature Zorn omits: age. Condon put CJ’s age at 30 to 34 and initially higher, I believe. And Joe Perrone—who police believed had also encountered Cemetery John—put his age at about 35. Knoll, however, was only 27. Apparently Zorn leaves out this important part of the description because it could cast doubt on his theory about Knoll.
Condon also mentioned a lump at the base of the left thumb, and Knoll had this. On the other hand, Condon, in his earliest descriptions, described CJ as having a tubercular-like cough, and I don’t see any evidence Knoll had that. Condon gave out so many varying details that quite a few people could be CJ.
As further proof of involvement, Zorn notes that Knoll showed evidence of wealth after the kidnapping. But the only really significant evidence given is that in 1934, Knoll bought two first-class round-trip tickets on the luxury liner Manhattan for $700, for a trip to Germany for himself and his wife. I don’t see anything else significant—no houses or minks bought, or anything like that.
Also, Zorn says Knoll’s younger brother Walter was the third member of the gang. So presumably he got a cut of the loot, right? But Zorn produces no evidence of sudden riches for Walter.
As Michael has pointed out, people get rich quick for a variety of reasons. In the old days before state lotteries, bookies used to run a “numbers racket.” When I was young I knew a lady, a nurses aide, who hit the number. Her winnings were so great that she sent her daughter to college on it. Sometimes, of course, people get large gifts from family members--there are many possibilities.
Also, no Lindbergh ransom notes were ever traced to either one of the Knoll brothers.
However, a couple of points in Zorn’s favor. John Knoll sailed for Germany shortly after Hauptmann’s arrest, and returned shortly after the conviction. I agree—the timing is suspicious.
Another thing Zorn said that caught my attention—analysts found traces of animal fat on some of the ransom bills that were turned in. This could have been from the Knoll brothers, since they worked in a deli.
But here’s something that really, in my estimation, damages Zorn’s theory. Everywhere, he describes the Knolls as subway riders. Nowhere is it mentioned that they owned a car or even had drivers’ licenses. So how does the “mastermind of the Crime of the Century” plan the Hopewell kidnapping without a car? Presumably, Zorn wants us to believe that the “compliant follower” BRH drove them down to check out Highfields.
Although Zorn does not expressly deny that there could have been a second car on March 1st, 1932, all his words suggest one car—he pictures the three of them driving together on the night of the kidnapping. In his reconstruction, he writes (p. 259): “On the drive to the Lindbergh estate on the night of the crime, they had no difficulty following the winding rural roads for the last several miles.” Huh? I’ve never been to Hopewell, but from those of you who have, I understand it’s quite hard to find your way around.
There is also a big fat problem with Zorn’s “one car, three men” thesis. Ben Lupica is considered by nearly all parties—regardless of their position on the LKC—to have been a quality witness. And Lupica saw a car with a sectioned ladder and ONE man in it. Not surprisingly, Zorn never mentions Lupica.
And just how did three guys from the Bronx know the Lindberghs would be at Highfields on a Tuesday? This has always been one of the key questions of the LKC, but Zorn doesn’t address it.
Zorn claims BRH went in through the front door of Highfields while the Lindberghs were in the parlor. He went upstairs in his stocking feet, handed the baby to Knoll on the ladder, then went back out through the front door. I don’t believe this could be. As I recall, Kevkon has stated that opening that door would be noisy. Also, the “stocking feet” man was said by Oscar Bush to be a “smallish” man, probably one wearing size 8 shoes—not close to BRH at all.
In his review of police work and the Flemington trial, I found a consistent pattern of cherry-picking by Zorn. If evidence or testimony implicated BRH in the crime, he praises it. But if the evidence ALSO suggested BRH was Cemetery John, he faults it.
For example, he says (p. 203) “The most credible witness called by the defense was handwriting expert John M. Trendley.” That’s a new one on me. Why does he say that? Because Zorn, backed by his own handwriting expert, says John Knoll, not BRH, wrote the notes. Therefore Trendley was “credible.”
Personally, I thought one of the best defense witnesses was Dr. Erastus Hudson, the fingerprint analyst. But Hudson rates no mention in Zorn’s book—perhaps because his testimony that BRH’s fingerprints were not on the ladder goes against Zorn’s theory. Zorn wants BRH to be guilty, just not guilty of writing the notes or being CJ.
Well, I’ve been pretty critical, so I’ll close with a compliment. One of Knoll’s experts, a former NSA analyst, thought that in the ransom note signature, the three holes represented three men—and the interlocking circles represented a bond of solidarity—meaning that they would never rat on each other. Of course, there are endless theories about the signature, but this was a new one to me, and struck me as having possibilities.
I have now finished the book, in which Zorn claims that Cemetery John was John Knoll, a Bronx neighbor of Zorn’s father Eugene. Knoll was a German immigrant. Zorn believes the kidnapping and extortion were carried out by Knoll, along with Knoll’s younger brother Walter, and Bruno Richard Hauptmann.
Zorn has a pleasant and concise writing style, so the book was not a bore for me, even after reading 10 or so other titles on the subject. Zorn also takes a unique approach to the crime by consulting a large number of modern experts (profilers, handwriting and forensic analysts, etc.), including our contributor Kevkon. I was a little surprised that he didn’t consult Michael, who probably knows more about the case than anyone on the planet.
I do want to say (and this is NOT a reference to Kevkon or Michael), that one must not rush to accept an opinion because someone is an “expert.” I have seen too many experts be wrong. I recall that during the Beltway sniper attacks, before they caught Muhammed and Malvo, “experts” were on the news profiling the attacks as the work of “one man,” “probably white,” motivated by “anger at the government,” and they were wrong on all counts. In regards to the LKC, trying to profile John Knoll, who is long dead, based on limited information we have about him, and then conclude he was the Lindbergh kidnapper, is a process we should be guarded about.
As I’ve mentioned in another thread, the spark that inspired the book was this: Zorn’s father, as a teenager, was invited to Palisades Park during the summer of 1931 by his neighbor John Knoll. Zorn said he went swimming; it sounds like it was a hot day. At the Park, Knoll met his brother and a man named “Bruno.” Zorn’s father overheard them speak in German and they mentioned “Englewood.” In the book, Zorn comes back to this incident many, many times, but I personally find it unremarkable.
-- To our knowledge, Hauptmann never went by “Bruno” in the US. Zorn finally gets to this at the very end of the book, but dismisses it by saying Knoll liked to call people by nicknames (p. 275).
--The Hauptmanns took a 3-month road trip to California during the summer of ’31. I don’t know if Zorn is aware of this. Since they left in early July, it still could mean Zorn’s father overheard BRH in the EARLY summer—but it seems unlikely that BRH would take a 3-month vacation in the midst of planning the “the Crime of the Century.”
--the mere mention of “Englewood” is in no way incriminating or even unusual. Englewood is practically next door to Palisades Park. The German conversation, translated, could have been something as simple as “I just tried that new restaurant over in Englewood.” Zorn had no recollection of words like “Lindbergh,” “Hopewell,” or “baby,” which would have given the conversation true significance.
After parting company with Zorn’s father that day, Zorn matter-of-factly says: “The three men surveyed the Morrow estate on the day of their rendezvous at Palisades Park.” (p. 258) How could Zorn possibly know that? And if Knoll was going to a “rendezvous” at the park to plan the Crime of the Century, why would he let his 15-year-old neighbor tag along?
Zorn has an answer for that too, citing an expert on psychopathology. Zorn writes:
John Knoll invited the boy along that summer day to satisfy some narcissistic impulse. And after all, if he had not done so, I would not now be telling you John Knoll’s story. The trip to the amusement park, Dr. Neumann explains, was the first of several clues left behind for my father by the architect of the plot to kidnap Charlie Lindbergh. (p. 266)
In other words, Knoll WANTED Zorn’s father to figure out the crime, and was leaving little clues—he WANTED to get caught-- just not too soon, apparently. This is one reason I say we need to be guarded sometimes about “experts.” Just like an attorney, an author can usually find an expert to back up a theory.
Citing evidence that John Knoll was egotistical, Zorn and his profilers label him a “mastermind,” “ringleader,” and “manipulator.” Hauptmann is cast in the role of “compliant follower.”
But would Hauptmann really take orders from someone like Knoll? Let’s dump the psychological profiling for a minute, and just consider the facts:
At the time of the kidnapping, Hauptmann was 32; the Knoll brothers 27 and 22 respectively.
In terms of social standing, BRH was a professional carpenter; he and Anna lived in $50-a month home; Knoll was a deli clerk and lived in a $10-a month flat.
Hauptmann was also a wounded war veteran; the Knolls were just boys at the time of the war.
I don’t see BRH taking orders from Knoll as a “compliant follower.”
Now, other than hearing Knoll greet someone called “Bruno” at Palisades Park, what evidence does Zorn present that Knoll knew BRH? Only this:
Knoll had a drinking buddy named Oscar Rietschel. Rietschel was originally from Kamenz, Hauptmann’s town in Germany. And in Kamenz the Rietschel family lived only 125 yards from the Hauptmanns. Zorn concludes that the Rietschels knew the Hauptmanns in Germany, and I agree, that is very probable.
However, Zorn produces no proof that Rietschel associated with BRH in the Bronx, and certainly no proof that BRH and Knoll were friends. Zorn is acting on two assumptions here: that Rietschel knew Hauptmann, and that Knoll knew Rietschel’s friends.
But one cannot presume that. For example, I have a good friend named Bill. But Bill has many other friends who I’ve never met. One cannot presume that because I know Bill, I also know Bill’s friends. But that is Zorn’s thinking.
I should mention that, other than being German immigrants, Knoll and BRH had little in common. Zorn says Knoll was a heavy drinker, and a womanizer; his first wife was a showgirl. Doesn’t sound like a “friend” match for BRH, who was an outdoorsman, loving hunting and canoeing. Nowhere does Zorn describe Knoll as outdoorsy. Nor would their professions have brought them together in the bond of working together—one was a carpenter, the other a deli clerk. So where this friendship originated, if it ever actually happened, is a mystery. However, to criticize my own criticism, Isidor Fisch wasn’t much like Hauptmann, either; yet they wound up being friends.
But if BRH really went to the electric chair to save the Knoll brothers—as Zorn asserts—there should have been a tremendous bond between them; close enough that Anna should probably have known them.
OK, now what evidence does Zorn produce that John Knoll was Cemetery John?
Well, he does look like the police sketches of CJ—although as Michael as pointed out, Zorn uses the “evolved” sketches, not the original one, which resembles Knoll less.
And of course, CJ told Condon his name was “John.” But I don’t have to tell readers of this board, not only is John an extremely common name, but it is likely that CJ gave Condon a phony name. “John” is an often-used alias; how many couples have checked into hotel rooms as “Mr. and Mrs. John Smith”?
It was mostly John F. Condon who gave us our description of CJ. In Zorn’s book, he relies on Jafsie Tells All as if it were gospel. Although he admits Condon was “arrogant and opinionated,” NOWHERE in the book does Zorn acknowledge that Condon was caught in dozens of lies. Apparently this is because he wants Condon to be “reliable,” so that we can accept the associations between Condon’s descriptions and John Knoll.
Even here, though, Zorn cherry-picks his data. Condon estimated CJ’s weight as 158 to 165 pounds. Zorn then cites old records showing Knoll’s weight as 164 and 167. Good match, right?
But hold on—there’s a very important feature Zorn omits: age. Condon put CJ’s age at 30 to 34 and initially higher, I believe. And Joe Perrone—who police believed had also encountered Cemetery John—put his age at about 35. Knoll, however, was only 27. Apparently Zorn leaves out this important part of the description because it could cast doubt on his theory about Knoll.
Condon also mentioned a lump at the base of the left thumb, and Knoll had this. On the other hand, Condon, in his earliest descriptions, described CJ as having a tubercular-like cough, and I don’t see any evidence Knoll had that. Condon gave out so many varying details that quite a few people could be CJ.
As further proof of involvement, Zorn notes that Knoll showed evidence of wealth after the kidnapping. But the only really significant evidence given is that in 1934, Knoll bought two first-class round-trip tickets on the luxury liner Manhattan for $700, for a trip to Germany for himself and his wife. I don’t see anything else significant—no houses or minks bought, or anything like that.
Also, Zorn says Knoll’s younger brother Walter was the third member of the gang. So presumably he got a cut of the loot, right? But Zorn produces no evidence of sudden riches for Walter.
As Michael has pointed out, people get rich quick for a variety of reasons. In the old days before state lotteries, bookies used to run a “numbers racket.” When I was young I knew a lady, a nurses aide, who hit the number. Her winnings were so great that she sent her daughter to college on it. Sometimes, of course, people get large gifts from family members--there are many possibilities.
Also, no Lindbergh ransom notes were ever traced to either one of the Knoll brothers.
However, a couple of points in Zorn’s favor. John Knoll sailed for Germany shortly after Hauptmann’s arrest, and returned shortly after the conviction. I agree—the timing is suspicious.
Another thing Zorn said that caught my attention—analysts found traces of animal fat on some of the ransom bills that were turned in. This could have been from the Knoll brothers, since they worked in a deli.
But here’s something that really, in my estimation, damages Zorn’s theory. Everywhere, he describes the Knolls as subway riders. Nowhere is it mentioned that they owned a car or even had drivers’ licenses. So how does the “mastermind of the Crime of the Century” plan the Hopewell kidnapping without a car? Presumably, Zorn wants us to believe that the “compliant follower” BRH drove them down to check out Highfields.
Although Zorn does not expressly deny that there could have been a second car on March 1st, 1932, all his words suggest one car—he pictures the three of them driving together on the night of the kidnapping. In his reconstruction, he writes (p. 259): “On the drive to the Lindbergh estate on the night of the crime, they had no difficulty following the winding rural roads for the last several miles.” Huh? I’ve never been to Hopewell, but from those of you who have, I understand it’s quite hard to find your way around.
There is also a big fat problem with Zorn’s “one car, three men” thesis. Ben Lupica is considered by nearly all parties—regardless of their position on the LKC—to have been a quality witness. And Lupica saw a car with a sectioned ladder and ONE man in it. Not surprisingly, Zorn never mentions Lupica.
And just how did three guys from the Bronx know the Lindberghs would be at Highfields on a Tuesday? This has always been one of the key questions of the LKC, but Zorn doesn’t address it.
Zorn claims BRH went in through the front door of Highfields while the Lindberghs were in the parlor. He went upstairs in his stocking feet, handed the baby to Knoll on the ladder, then went back out through the front door. I don’t believe this could be. As I recall, Kevkon has stated that opening that door would be noisy. Also, the “stocking feet” man was said by Oscar Bush to be a “smallish” man, probably one wearing size 8 shoes—not close to BRH at all.
In his review of police work and the Flemington trial, I found a consistent pattern of cherry-picking by Zorn. If evidence or testimony implicated BRH in the crime, he praises it. But if the evidence ALSO suggested BRH was Cemetery John, he faults it.
For example, he says (p. 203) “The most credible witness called by the defense was handwriting expert John M. Trendley.” That’s a new one on me. Why does he say that? Because Zorn, backed by his own handwriting expert, says John Knoll, not BRH, wrote the notes. Therefore Trendley was “credible.”
Personally, I thought one of the best defense witnesses was Dr. Erastus Hudson, the fingerprint analyst. But Hudson rates no mention in Zorn’s book—perhaps because his testimony that BRH’s fingerprints were not on the ladder goes against Zorn’s theory. Zorn wants BRH to be guilty, just not guilty of writing the notes or being CJ.
Well, I’ve been pretty critical, so I’ll close with a compliment. One of Knoll’s experts, a former NSA analyst, thought that in the ransom note signature, the three holes represented three men—and the interlocking circles represented a bond of solidarity—meaning that they would never rat on each other. Of course, there are endless theories about the signature, but this was a new one to me, and struck me as having possibilities.