Murder in Wauwatosa: The Mysterious Death of Buddy Schumacher
128
Murder in Wauwatosa: The Mysterious Death of Buddy Schumacher
128Paperback
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Overview
In 1925, the peaceful Milwaukee suburb of Wauwatosafound itself involved in mystery and horror. Eight-year-old Arthur ""Buddy"" Schumacher Jr. was last seen by three of his friends after they hopped off a freight train they'd jumped to get a ride to a nearby swimming hole.
For seven weeks, the community and state searched desperately to find the boy until his body was found just a mile from his house with his clothing torn and a handkerchief shoved down his throat. The police pursued several promising leads, but to no avail.
In this engaging mystery, author Paul Hoffman walks us back to the scene of the crime and through the reasons it was never solved.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781609496739 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Arcadia Publishing SC |
| Publication date: | 06/26/2012 |
| Series: | True Crime |
| Pages: | 128 |
| Sales rank: | 1,108,719 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.30(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
MRS. HARWOOD KNOWS
I know who killed the Schumacher boy.
– Lillian Harwood
Lillian Harwood lived with her husband, James, next door to my family for several years when I was growing up in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, a suburb just west of Milwaukee. Mrs. Harwood was generally a good-natured older lady who served as a school crossing guard at the corner of Milwaukee and Wauwatosa Avenues between Wauwatosa East High School and Lincoln Elementary.
She loved kids and enjoyed gregariously telling me and my three younger brothers to "make all the noise you want!" or "You're one of the good ones!"
There were times, though, when Mrs. Harwood did or said things that kind of made you scratch your head. These days, we would say that she might have been getting Alzheimer's. Back in the 1970s, we just thought she was kind of crazy — usually a harmless, odd type of crazy, but crazy nonetheless.
She once washed her car with a garden hose ...the inside of her car. When a basketball accidentally got tipped over the fence from our driveway basketball court into her backyard and my brothers or I went to her back door to ask if we could retrieve the ball, we were never quite sure which Mrs. Harwood would answer the door. More often than not, it was the one who was happy to see children at her door. Sometimes she wasn't quite so together. Once, when my brothers went over, they heard the rock band Foreigner's "Head Games" blaring from her kitchen radio. Mrs. Harwood asked them if they liked the pretty Christmas music. Crazy, but harmless crazy.
However, there were also these rare times when, as a young boy, I felt like I needed to keep my distance. Mrs. Harwood would occasionally slowly patrol the sidewalk in front of her house on the 8100 block of Hillcrest Drive with flushed cheeks and an intense glare in her eyes. She would eyeball every car parked on the street that she didn't recognize and look us in the eye, saying things like, "They look in my windows at night" or, "I know who killed the Schumacher boy."
Over the course of a few years, Mrs. Harwood told me that the police knew who killed the Schumacher boy and that it happened near the Menomonee River and the railroad tracks around Hoyt Park. When I was about ten or twelve years old or so and heard her say things like this, I mostly chalked it up to her being an old lady who either misinterpreted things she'd seen or heard or was being paranoid and crazy ... or both. But the statements she made about the Schumacher boy started me wondering — my father had bought our house at 8118 Hillcrest Drive in 1969 from a man named Art Schumacher.
I started asking myself a lot of questions. Did Mr. Schumacher have a brother or a son who was killed? If so, did the police know who killed him? Was Mrs. Harwood insinuating that there had been some sort of coverup? Was this just some figment of her imagination, or did she really know who killed the boy?
I asked my dad, and he said he didn't know if Art Schumacher had a brother or son at all, much less one who had been killed. Being a young kid, I was too unnerved by Mrs. Harwood's demeanor when she mentioned "the Schumacher boy" that I never asked her for any more information. I'd just mumble an "uh huh" and go about my business.
I kept going about my business for the next thirty-five years or so. I got married and had kids, and through it all, every now and then, thoughts of "the Schumacher boy" (if there ever really was such a boy) would creep into my head.
Around Christmastime in 2009, when I was visiting my parents' new home in Brookfield, I finally decided to find out once and for all if anything Mrs. Harwood said about this boy was true. An online search produced a photo published in the September 16, 1925 Milwaukee Sentinel of a casket being carried out of a Wauwatosa house. A headline above the photo read "Bid Schumacher Boy Farewell," and the photo caption read in part, "Arthur (Buddie) Schumacher, murder victim, leaving his home on Alice Street, Wauwatosa, for the last time after funeral services yesterday."
Oh my gosh! There really was a Schumacher boy who was killed. The accompanying story shed little light on the circumstances of the boy's death. But the more I dug, the more I found out just how much of what Mrs. Harwood said about the Schumacher boy was indeed true, or at least how some people could have come to some of the same conclusions that she had.
CHAPTER 2MEDIA COVERAGE
Arthur Schumacher Jr., an eight-year-old boy with a sunny disposition and a kind heart, left his home near what is today Seventy-fourth and State Streets in Wauwatosa on a warm morning in late July 1925, eagerly anticipating the fun he'd have with some friends at the local swimming hole called Blackridge just outside town. But the next time the boy (known to almost everyone as "Buddy") came home was seven weeks later in a casket. He'd been sexually abused and killed when someone suffocated him by stuffing a handkerchief far down his throat.
The killing was considered so unusual and horrifying that Wauwatosa's weekly newspaper, the Wauwatosa News, noted in an August 6, 1925 article that it evoked memories of a case more than fifty years earlier from Pennsylvania. Buddy's case was thought to be the first child sex killing in sixteen years in the Milwaukee area and only one of four through the first fifty-eight years of the 1900s, a 1959 Milwaukee Sentinel article reported.
Even though a local vagrant was arrested in connection with the crime shortly after Buddy's body was found, and though two other men later confessed to the killing, nobody ever faced charges in the case. Several incidents during the investigation leave one confounded. Among them, witnesses changed their minds about key pieces of evidence against the vagrant, the handkerchief used to suffocate the boy was unable to be located in the district attorney's office for a few days and neither of the confessions were initially believed by police.
The Wauwatosa Police Department, which would have had files on the case at one time, no longer has any records for years prior to 1934, according to a department spokesperson. And nearly everyone who was connected with the case has now died. Very few of the descendants of the people involved in the mystery were told much about it. While plenty of information was available on the Schumacher family through family members, the main sources of information on this case and on the other people involved were census records, prison records and newspaper articles.
Because local newspapers' accounts of some of the happenings in this case conflicted, one needs to understand the news coverage philosophies of those papers at that time in order to get as close to the facts as we can get. This story played out intensely in the local newspapers: the big city daily papers in Milwaukee (the Sentinel and the Journal) and Wauwatosa's weekly newspaper (the Wauwatosa News). Coverage in the Milwaukee papers was sometimes fairly sensationalistic.
The Milwaukee papers had been engaged in a constant state of fierce competition for many years, and they would continue to be in such a state for years to come. By the time of the Schumacher crime, the "yellow journalism" scourge of the turn of the century had faded somewhat.
Yellow journalism, according to American historian and journalist Frank Luther Mott, was characterized by scare headlines in huge print, often of minor news; lavish use of pictures or imaginary drawings; use of faked interviews, misleading headlines, pseudoscience and a parade of false learning from so-called experts; and dramatic sympathy, with the "underdog" pitted against the system.
These kinds of reporting and story presentation have often been connected to supermarket tabloids through the years. They largely disappeared in reputable newspapers as the twentieth century pressed on. But in 1925, elements of yellow journalism sometimes still existed.
Milwaukee was no exception, and at the time, the Sentinel seemed to be a bit "yellower" than the Journal. That shouldn't come as much of a surprise since the Sentinel had been purchased the previous year by the Hearst Corporation, whose founder, William Randolph Hearst, played a key role at the peak of yellow journalism and whose life served as one of the inspirations for the title character in Orson Welles's Citizen Kane.
When covering the Buddy Schumacher story, both Milwaukee papers often splashed huge headlines across the tops of their front pages. Both printed photos that reputable papers today would never consider publishing. It seemed that some of the "facts" got trumped up a bit, too, and reporters went to measures that would have been unheard of a few decades later. Brian Egloff, Buddy's nephew who lived in Wauwatosa for a time in the 1940s and lives in Australia now, said that he had been told that reporters clambered over the fences at the Schumacher home to get photos and interviews with the family after the boy disappeared.
The Wauwatosa News, on the other hand, provided its readers with much more toned-down coverage of the saga. The stories contained the basic facts, but the headlines were much, much smaller, there were not nearly so many quotes in the stories and the News printed only one photo during the entirety of its coverage: a head-and-shoulders shot of Buddy published two weeks after he went missing.
The Wauwatosa News publisher at the time was Cornelius L. Benoy, who lived just up Alice Street from the Schumachers. The paper had been owned by either Cornelius or his father, John Benoy, since 1907, and Cornelius would continue to serve as publisher and/or editor until the early 1940s. With Buddy's grandfather, John Armstrong, having been one of the town's business and political leaders in the early part of the 1900s, the Benoys surely knew the family.
The Benoys were said to be extremely committed to their town. John Benoy, a printer who moved to Wauwatosa in 1895, had newspaper experience at all three of Milwaukee's big daily papers (Sentinel, Journal and Evening Wisconsin) before taking a job with L.R. Gridley, founder of the Wauwatosa News. He bought out Gridley's interest in 1907 and became editor and sole proprietor.
In Memoirs of Milwaukee County, published in 1909, John Benoy was described as
a strong, independent and conscientious man, an excellent type of citizen, and a desirable addition to the editorial ranks of the country, in the present era, when there seems to be a superfluous amount of "yellow journalism."
He brings to his work the practical experience of the printer, and a familiarity with the methods of the city papers, as well as those sterling qualities of character which are the most important factors of success in the important work of the journalist.
His son was similarly described in History of Milwaukee City and County, published in 1922. Cornelius Benoy, or C.L., as some called him, had just taken over as editor and sole proprietor of the Wauwatosa News from his father the year before. Cornelius's professional attributes were described thusly in History of Milwaukee: "He has made it a live interesting journal, devoted to the welfare of the community." And of his character, it was said that "[h]e is favorably known among a constantly broadening circle of friends and is regarded as one of the stalwart champions of the community in which he makes his home."
Cornelius Benoy was five years old when his family moved to "Tosa," so this was his hometown. He worked in the News' printing office for six years and helped found a newspaper in Centerville, Illinois, before returning.
The Schumacher coverage was one example of how the Wauwatosa News seemed to protect its townspeople and officials.
Another example of the News' protective nature can be found in an apology that the News' editor printed in an October 1932 edition. The apology came down hard on a reporter who had omitted two women's names from a list of a company's attachés. The editor went extremely overboard in stating his displeasure with his reporter's faux pas: "The chagrin and mortification of the editor when he received a belated notification that these charming young ladies had been overlooked and ignored can be better imagined than described."
The editor then called the offending reporter a "miscreant" and said that he'd been "called on the carpet" and fired. Whether he would ever be allowed to work for the Wauwatosa News again would depend on his behavior over the winter.
Considering its protective leanings toward its town and citizens, and the fact that the Benoys also must have known the Schumachers and Armstrongs, it's understandable that the local newspaper treated Buddy's case with kid gloves.
But the Buddy Schumacher story is more than just a "whodunit" murder mystery. It's also a story of how a father and mother tried to cope with a missing boy whom they eventually found out had been molested and murdered. It's a story of the state of mental healthcare in the 1920s and the vagabond lifestyle of the day, one in which many men — some of whom were mentally challenged — traveled from one place to another looking for handouts.
And while the story of Buddy Schumacher's death may be a tragic one, some good did come of it as city officials started the process of making their city safer.
CHAPTER 3THE SCHUMACHERS
Buddy Schumacher's parents — Art and Florence — came from quite different family backgrounds. Both families were among the wave of European immigrants coming to America in the second half of the nineteenth century. A great-grandfather, Fredrich Schumacher, emigrated from Pomerania, a province of Prussia on the Baltic Sea that is now split between Poland and Germany, and settled in New York before coming to Wisconsin. Buddy's maternal grandfather, John Armstrong, came to Milwaukee from Ireland and made a good deal of money in horseshoeing and real estate.
The Schumacher family was a tightly knit, fairly poor Lutheran clan, but Art somehow ended up marrying into one of the top merchant families in Wauwatosa. Perhaps Art took the cue from his own father, who married into one of Milwaukee's most prominent families. Louis Schumacher had married Eliza Pritzlaff, niece of famous Milwaukee hardware merchant John Pritzlaff.
"That is what is so amazing," Brian Egloff marveled. "How did this very rich man's daughter marry a Schumacher, virtually a penniless parochial schoolteacher?"
Louis eventually lost all the money Eliza had inherited, partially due to caring for his ill wife late in life. But perhaps it was his mother and father's marriage that contributed to Art's understanding of how to become accepted by the wealthy and powerful — and perhaps spurred the local business community to get so involved in the search for his son.
The Schumacher household Art grew up in was very frugal and hardworking, according to Brian Egloff. Art was an apprentice watchmaker by the time he was twelve years old and wound up selling surgical instruments for the E.H. Karrer Company, owned by Eduard Karrer, a man Art attended church with at Mount Olive Lutheran on Washington Boulevard on the far west side of Milwaukee. Art rose to the position of assistant manager with the firm.
The Armstrong side presented quite a contrast to the Schumacher side of Buddy's ancestry. The Armstrongs had a solid record of financial success and political clout in Milwaukee and Wauwatosa in the early 1900s. Not only was John Armstrong successful, but his wife, Alice, came from a prosperous family herself. Alice's grandfather, Frederick William Hundhausen, a Prussian immigrant, was a doctor, saloon owner, school administrator and city treasurer in Milwaukee after serving in the Union army as a quartermaster during the Civil War.
John and Alice moved from Milwaukee to Wauwatosa sometime in the late 1880s. By 1892, according to the Wauwatosa city directory of that year, the Armstrongs were established at the northwest corner of what was then Alice Street and Watertown Plank Road (later to become Seventy-fourth and State Streets) near what is now a George Webb restaurant. This building also served as Armstrong's blacksmith shop. Eventually, the family moved out of the blacksmith shop building and into a house one property north, at 191 Alice Street. The house was torn down many years ago, and a parking lot stands there now.
It wasn't long after moving to Tosa that John Armstrong was recognized as one of the town's top business leaders. He lost three buildings in Tosa's Great Fire of 1895, among the three hardest-hit businessmen in the blaze. This fire, suspected to be an arson, decimated the downtown business district, including Armstrong's buildings that housed a barbershop, a saloon and a harness shop. It was estimated that Armstrong's losses totaled $3,000, according to a Milwaukee Journal story of July 10, 1895. That is about $75,000 in today's money.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Murder in Wauwatosa"
by .
Copyright © 2012 Paul Hoffman.
Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements 7
Chapter 1 Mrs. Harwood Knows 9
Chapter 2 Media Coverage 12
Chapter 3 The Schumachers 17
Chapter 4 Wauwatosa in the 1920s 25
Chapter 5 Buddy Disappears 29
Chapter 6 The Search Begins 35
Chapter 7 "We'll Never Give Up" 41
Chapter 8 Leads All Over the State 47
Chapter 9 No Sign of the Boy 52
Chapter 10 The Hunt Grinds to a Halt 57
Chapter 11 The Body Is Finally Found 64
Chapter 12 An Arrest Is Made 71
Chapter 13 Suspect Linked to Murder Weapon 79
Chapter 14 The Case Suddenly Falls Apart 85
Chapter 15 A Confession 90
Chapter 16 Who Was William Brandt? 96
Chapter 17 More Violence Against Kids 106
Chapter 18 The "Moron" Danger 113
Epilogue 123
About the Author 127