Judge — February 25, 1928 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Phantoms Yonker After two years of m of Mlinois, secured permission to presen orld for the first time this inter human document, the story of the oper of the greatest criminal of all time midable “Diamond Sid” Perelm rred to a horitie “The Scourge "and “The Man of a Th Faces.” The deeds of Dick Turpin than Wild, Gerald C. er Bob” Van Roosa and read like ing recital, CHAP CIRCLE of white excited faces A closed in around “Bloodhound” McGonigle, head of Chicago's plain-clothes squad. The crowd grew; ability to change hus 0 police photographs of the gang leader, revealing his features at will Liberty Number of Judge men and women craned their necks to peer into the center of the crush. Mc- Gonigle, burly, gray at the temples, a cigar in his teeth, straightened up sud- denly and turned to a bystander. “What did you see?” he asked in clipped accents, whipping out a leather notebook. “Yeh,” replied the onlooker intelli- gently, “Me no spik Englis, fella. You'll get six months for this said McGonigle heatedly, * him away, Morrissey to another bystande: ‘ome clean nov ake And turning he ground out, What did you see? “T saw a little guy with a can opener fooling around t gum machine,” was the reply. “And then?” asked McGonigle. “I can’t say,” replied the poor apple. “The next thing | knew there was a red haze in front of my eyes and when I came to I saw the little guy heave a flock of pennies, grab a handful of gum, and run. That's all, mis- ter, and now I gotta go: my wife waiting for these spuds.” The crowd waited tense as McGonigle closed his notebook with a snap and re- clit his cigar. he said to two respectful subordinates, “The Swift Gray Phantom of the Dawn has struck again. Somewhere in the tangled web of crime ‘ Diamond Sid Perelman, the Eel of the Loop, smiles evilly as he recalls how he has just out- witted us.” All night long the mighty news- paper presses hummed and next day the wide-eyed man in the street read of the latest daring coup of the hooded Menace of Gangsterdom. And_ he, wily veteran of the underworld, smiled narrowly in his hideaway as he chewed gum endlessly. It was his perversion And now the scene shifts with start- ling rapidity to the first-class cabin of the steamer ride of Rivington Street,” eight days out of Frisco, bound for Honolulu, Dinner is being served at the captain's table; a buzz of con- versation hangs over the flawless nap- ind expensive cut-glass. Suddenly idly sipping soup, claps his hand to his breast and utters a cry. “My God!” Stewards rush forward sengers rise in alarm. the matter, Capt. Trot- asks a tall distinguished diplo- ‘ve lost my fountain pen!” is the amazing retort as frightened women clutch at their jewels and men whisper excitedly. Suddenly a commanding voice is heard from the doorway. All turn; and there, framed like a dirty {CONTINUED ON PAGE 15} 1 comicbooks.com