Harry Bennett's Role in the Ypsilanti Torch Murders of August 11, 1931

Torch Murderers Frank Oliver, Fred Smith, and David Blackstone protected from the lynch mob outside by Washtenaw County Police and Harry Bennett's Ford Motor Company "Servicemen." 

The Torch Murders were among the most horrific crimes in Ypsilanti history to that date. On August 11, 1931, three young men--Fred Smith, David Blackstone, and Frank Oliver--had been drinking whiskey at a local speakeasy. They decided to go out on a prowl in their car and rob somebody. In the early morning hours, robbery was the least of their crimes.

During the Great Depression, scratching for a living must not have been easy for the three shiftless young men looking to commit a simple robbery for a payday. They pulled their Model T Ford into Peninsular Grove along a dirt road bordering the north edge of the Huron River. The area was well-known and well-used as a lovers lane. Today, it is known as Peninsular Park off of LeForge Road.

Two teen-aged couples were parking when they were surprised by three shadowy figures. The four teens were beaten and robbed; the girls were raped. When one of the teens recognized Fred Smith, all were murdered. The final indignity was their bodies were soaked with gasoline and torched in their car at another location.

Site of torched car on Tuttle Road

The horrific nature of the crime caught the attention of Mr. Henry Bennett, known to his friends and foes alike as Harry. He was Henry Ford's head of security and UAW union-busting thug. 

Bennett had a chateau-like home built on the north bank of the Huron River off Geddes Road between Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor. The property was bordered by a concrete and iron reinforced wall courtesy of Ford Motor Company.

Henry Ford had a private railroad spur built leading onto Bennett's property, so his security chief could travel to Detroit in record time if needed. This was before Interstate 94 was built, and Michigan Avenue was the most direct route into Detroit.

After the untimely death of one Joseph York, a Detroit gangster who tried to kill Harry Bennett in his home, Bennett had Ford architects design and build several strategically located crenelated gun towers on the roof of his home--staffed around the clock by Ford Servicemen. The entire area surrounding the Bennett Castle for many miles was known as a no-mans' land for criminal activity. Then the Torch Murders happened almost on Bennett's doorstep.

 

Harry Bennett's Castle

In a book published in 2003 with the dreadful title of Henry Ford: Critical Evaluations in Business and Management, Vol. 1, authors John Cunningham Wood and Michael C. Wood wrote about Harry Bennett's role in the Ypsilanti Torch Murders. 

"The last crime of any consequence in the (Ypsilanti) area occurred in 1931 (These authors obviously hadn't heard about the John Norman Collins murders) and Bennett cleared it up within forty-eight hours. It was a thoroughly horrible affair

"Bennett was invited to participate in the case by a local sheriff, and he soon had his Servicemen swarming the countryside. Under the noses of the state troopers and the county officials, he shifted the scene of the crime a few feet to bring it into the jurisdiction of a hanging judge (note: Michigan has never been a death penalty state).

"Then he uncovered two informers who named a couple of possible suspects. Taking one of the suspects in tow, Bennett, together with Robert Taylor, the head of the Ford Sociological Department,

Ford Servicemen in action.

and one of his towering Ford Servicemen, took the young man to the basement of his fortified house. There, while one of Bennett's companions created an enormous racket with an electric weight reducing machine, Bennett undertook to get a confession out of the suspect.

"(Bennett) interrupted this job occasionally to dash upstairs and pour a beer for the county sheriff who visited him inopportunely before his basement guest had begun to talk. He tactfully neglected to advise the sheriff what was going on below, and it was not until he had results that he turned his captive over to the police.

The Torch Murder Case--as it became known--was rapidly brought to a successful conclusion. After speedy court proceedings, the accused were indicted, pleaded guilty, and sentenced in the same session. They were hustled down the back stairs of the courthouse and shoved into the backseat of a souped-up Lincoln driven by Harry Bennett himself with a three car police escort. The murderous trio were delivered alive to Jackson Prison--forty-six miles west of Ypsilanti.

For a more detailed account of The Torch Murders, consult Judge Edward Deake's account found in the Ypsilanti Historical Society's publication Ypsilanti Gleanings:

http://ypsigleanings.aadl.org/ypsigleanings/14538

For more information on Harry Bennett, check out a previous post: http://fornology.blogspot.com/2012/09/ford-henchman-harry-bennett-and-his.html

Ypsilanti History--The Town and the Gown

Three forward-looking American businessmen with thick billfolds bought up the French land claims along both sides of the Huron River in 1825. They surveyed the cleared farmland for a new town they named Ypsilanti. Although odd and difficult to pronounce for people unfamiliar with the name, Ypsilanti is unique and has served the city well. The proper pronunciation is /ip'si-lan-tee/ but never /yip'sil-lan-tee/. Visitors might want to refrain from using the term Ypsitucky. Many residents consider the word offensive.

The City of Ypsilanti came of age with the founding of Michigan State Normal School in 1849. Classes began on March 29, 1853, with the completion of their newly constructed, three-story classroom building. The school building was destroyed by fire in October 1859 but was rebuilt and ready for classes six months later.

Michigan's system of education was patterned after the German system. The mission of normal schools was the "normalization" of teaching standards and practices. Normal schools trained teachers for the common schools which were popping up around the state. In 1899, Michigan State Normal School was the second normal school in the nation to adopt a four-year curriculum and earn the distinction of college.

When World War Two ended, the passage of the Servicemen's Readjustment Act (the G.I. Bill) helped Michigan State Normal College expand with new buildings and new departments offering a broader range of offerings to accommodate the increased enrollment of veterans. 

The Normal College became Eastern Michigan College in 1956, but that was short-lived. When Eastern Michigan established its graduate school in 1959, it was upgraded to university status.

Today, Eastern Michigan University offers degrees and programs at the bachelor, master, specialist, and doctoral levels. Since 1991, Eastern Michigan is the largest producer of educational personnel in the country. We are everywhere.

The City of Ypsilanti and Eastern Michigan University's Board of Regents have a one hundred and sixty-five year shared history. They have survived catastrophic fires, angry storms, and devastating winds. They have been witness to every American war since the Civil War, weathered the Great Depression, and grieved over the political assassinations of the 1960s.

A two year reign of terror stalked Ypsilanti from July 1967 through July 1969. Seven young women--three of them EMU coeds and one an Ypsilanti teen--were wantonly murdered by a serial killer. This sustained nightmare left an indelible impression on residents. Both the city and the university were bound by fear and helplessness. 

A lot of water--and history--has flowed past the Peninsula Paper Company dam on the Huron River. Political insiders and local historians say there have been a number of Town and Gown spats over the years, but overall, the relationship between the city and the university has been mutually beneficial. EMU is currently Ypsilanti's largest employer.

Looking down West Street Cross Street

Unlike the University of Michigan campus which is inseparable from the City of Ann Arbor, Eastern Michigan's campus is set apart from Ypsilanti's downtown--with one notable exception--EMU's College of Business on Michigan Avenue. The university and the city need to find more ways to work together to promote each others shared interests.

Ypsilanti has untapped potential to once again be a place to go, rather than a place to avoid or drive past on the Interstate. Ypsilanti needs some can-do people with vision. If a mass transit scheme can be worked out--like a commuter rail stop in Depot Town--the city's economic development department needs to capitalize on it.

Thank you to James Thomas Mann. Much of the information used in my last three Ypsilanti posts was adapted from his two volume photo study, Images of America: Ypsilanti - A History in Pictures. 
http://www.amazon.com/Ypsilanti-History-Pictures-Images-America/dp/0738519952

Ypsilanti History--The Boom and the Bust Years

In 1851, frontier downtown Ypsilanti burned down and was rebuilt with red common brick. By the late 1880s, many Michigan rural communities began erecting ornate water towers responding to their increasing populations and industrialization after the Civil War. Sanitation and drinking water improved, while increased water pressure made fire-fighting more responsive and successful.

Ypsilanti Water Tower - 1889

These nineteenth century water towers were landmarks and symbols of civic pride, but none was as iconic as the Ypsilanti Water Tower, built across from Eastern Michigan University on Ypsilanti's highest point. This public-funded water supply system took only ten months to build and was finished in February 1890. It consisted of seventeen miles of feeder pipe, one hundred and thirty-two fire hydrants, a pumping station, and a one hundred and forty-eight foot tall tower. The octagonal cupola on top was removed in 1906 because of fears strong winds might undermine it and send it toppling below.

At the turn of the twentieth century, Ypsilanti was a thriving farming community surrounded by thousands of acres of fertile land under the plow. The area was also known for its orchards and wooded tracts teeming with wildlife. The city boasted having some of the best representations of Victorian architecture in Southeastern Michigan. The town prospered. 

Daniel Quirk mansion today.

World War I transformed America overnight from a rural farming country into an urban one. When the weight of the Great Depression hit the heartland, many of the family farms in Ypsilanti fell into disrepair or were simply abandoned. In fundamental ways, Ypsilanti was a microcosm of the American economy. Its fortunes waxed and waned with those of the country. Things were tough all over.

With another World War looming, automobile magnate Henry Ford and his son Edsel did their part for the war effort by quickly building the world’s largest and most modern airplane factory. The Willow Run B-24 Liberator Bomber Plant was built on orchard land just east of Ypsilanti owned by the Ford family.

After the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941, the United States experienced a wave of patriotism, and Ypsilanti was no different. There was yet another drain of manpower for the war effort—the second time in twenty-seven years. Another generation of Ypsilanti’s young men answered the call to serve their country.

At peak production, the Willow Run plant could produce one plane every hour.

But that left Henry Ford desperate for workers to run the Willow Run B-24 bomber plant, so the company recruited heavily from the South to help make up the manpower shortage. By March 1, 1943, 6,491 came from Kentucky, 1,971 from Tennessee, 714 from Texas, 450 West Virgina, 397 from Arkansas, and 314 from Missouri. In the most dramatic demographic shift in the area since the white man drove the red man west, Ypsilanti went from a rural sunrise-to-sundown farming community to a round-the-clock factory town. To make up the rest of the labor shortfall, hundreds of local women stepped up to fill jobs collectively earning the nickname "Rosie the Riveter."

Ypsilanti became a boom town overnight. Suddenly, downtown was beset with unattached men who had money in their pockets looking for a good time—some were single and some were not. Michigan Avenue bars did a box office business attracting thirsty and bored customers from the plant.

Because the bomber plant ran three shifts, the bars had customers all day long. Drunken brawls were not uncommon among rowdy plant workers, but problems also broke out between the workers and townspeople--often over women.
This tense atmosphere gave downtown Ypsilanti an edge changing its character.

Residents bemoaned the changes to their town and called the newcomers Ypsituckians--a nickname offensive to many. The east side of town quickly became the blue collar residential area, as it was nearest to the bomber plant.

Because of the immediate need to house these men, some residents rented out bedrooms in shifts. Many of the beautiful old period homes were subdivided into small apartments or became boarding houses. In Willow Run, barracks-style housing was hastily thrown up to address the desperate situation. Some people worked double shifts and lived out of their cars until they could get situated.

Thirty-fourth President of the United States

Almost as quickly as they began, the boom days ended when the war did. Ypsilanti went into a postwar, economic slump. In 1956, the Dwight D. Eisenhower administration established the Federal Interstate Highway System. I-94 was built a mile south of downtown Ypsilanti. This changed traffic patterns and hurt the Michigan Avenue main street business community. By the 1970s, downtown Ypsilanti and Depot Town showed signs of decline.

More details about Ypsi's Water Tower: http://www.mlive.com/news/ann-arbor/index.ssf/2014/02/ypsilanti_water_tower_named_in.html

Up and Down with The Three Stooges

Known for farce and slapstick comedy, The Three Stooges began their career in 1925 as second bananas to vaudeville comedian Ted Healy. The original trio consisted of Moe (Moses) Howard, Shemp (Samuel) Howard, and Larry (Louis Feinberg) Fine--collectively known as Healy's Stooges.

In 1932, Shemp left the act because he was fed up with Healy's alcoholism and abusive behavior. He pursued a successful solo career with Vitaphone Pictures in Brooklyn, New York--his hometown. The boys needed a quick replacement, so Moe suggested his younger brother Jerome.

Healy took one look at Jerome and said he didn't look funny. Jerome was too well-dressed and had a full head of chestnut-colored, wavy hair. Jerome left the room saying he would be back in several minutes. He returned with a freshly shaved head and a star was born. Jerome was given the stage name Curly. He was the original chowderhead and most popular of the Stooges. Untrained but with a flair for physical comedy, Curly's child-like mannerisms and natural comedic charm made him a fan favorite.

The team signed a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer lasting one year. Healy and his Stooges played bit parts of comic relief in half a dozen B-grade movies. The Stooges split with Ted Healy in 1934 and signed a one year contract with Columbia Pictures to appear in eight comedy short-subjects within a forty week period. The trio was paid $7,500 per film to divide among themselves.

During their twenty-three years at Columbia Pictures, Moe Howard managed The Three Stooges--as they were now known. Moe was never fully aware of The Three Stooges' wild popularity at the box office or their income-earning potential. Every year, the boys had to sweat out whether they had a job or not. Studio mogul Harry Cohn complained the market for movie shorts was dying out. Moe never negotiated for a salary increase--nor were The Three Stooges ever offered one. 

When they stopped making shorts in 1957, Moe finally realized what cash cows they were for Columbia Pictures. It was their cheap-to-make, two-reelers that kept the studio's gates open during the Great Depression and World War II.

The Three Stooges shorts satirized greed, high society, health care, crime, the Depression, and World War II. The Stooges were the first Americans to take on Adolph Hitler and the Nazis. On January 19, 1940, Larry, Moe, and Curly ridiculed the German dictator in You Natzy Spy. Although not considered one of their finer efforts, it would be almost two years before the United States' entrance into World War II.

In the 1940s, Curly's weight ballooned from overeating and drinking. By 1945, he had trouble remembering his lines. He was lethargic. His voice was deeper and strained. He couldn't do the high-pitched woo-woos and n'yuk-n'yuks anymore. Doctors discovered Curly had had a minor stroke. The following year, a massive stroke ended his fourteen-year-long career. At the end of his life, he could only communicate with Moe by squeezing his hand or blinking his eyes. Jerome (Curly) Howard died in 1952 of a cerebral hemorrhage at age forty-eight. He appeared in ninety-seven Columbia shorts.

Moe asked his older brother Shemp to reprise his role as an original Stooge. He had a successful solo career but returned in 1947 to keep the act alive. After Curly's last few sluggish performances, Shemp injected some zany vitality into the series. Larry Fine was also given more screen time.

Shemp was with the act when The Three Stooges made their first television appearance on Milton Berle's Texaco Star Theater in 1948. Their slapstick brand of short sketch comedy was well-suited for variety shows. Because there was no backlog of television programming, they were in great demand to fill air time. The Three Stooges became reacquainted with their core audience. Three years after Curly passed, Shemp died of a massive heart attack at age sixty in 1955. He appeared in seventy-seven episodes.

Moe Howard and Larry Fine lived for twenty more years and continued to work with several other replacements. Larry died of a stroke at age seventy-two in January 1975; Moe died of lung cancer at age seventy-seven in May 1975.

In January of 1955, Screen Gems--a Columbia Pictures television subsidiary--began packaging The Three Stooges for the television market. Because of the large body of material--190 shorts--shows were broadcast Monday through Friday in syndication across the country. This heavy exposure led to a new generation of Stooge fans--the Baby Boomers.

Although The Three Stooges were never a hit with critics, they outlasted all their contemporaries. They are beloved by generations of Americans and respected for their large body of work. In 2000, ABC aired a made-for-television The Three Stooges bio-pic telling their story through the eyes of Moe Howard. I thought it was quite good. Evan Handler played Larry, Paul Ben-Victor played Moe, Michael Chiklis played Curly, and John Kassir played Shemp.

In 2012, Twentieth Century Fox released their The Three Stooges movie to a world-wide audience reigniting the global popularity of one of the greatest celebrity brands. This film is divided into three episodes--similar to how the shorts were packaged for television--and attempts to recreate the classic act. 

The list of supporting actors is impressive: Jane Lynch, Sofia Vergara, Jennifer Hudson, Kate Upton, Larry David, among others. The first movie was successful enough to warrant a sequel. On May 7, 2015, Fox studios announced that Sean Hayes as Larry, Will Sasso as Curly, and Chris Diamantopoulos as Moe will reprise their roles.

Hardcore Three Stooges' fans will find the following Larry Fine interview fascinating.

1973 Larry Fine interview (part one):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3x-uDXBllw

Larry Fine interview (part two):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFR2RKAU_bo

Steve Allen narrates a Three Stooges bio:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0rpy8TCJgY 

Detroit Athletic Club Turns One Hundred

The Detroit Athletic Club (DAC) is a private social club in the sports and entertainment district of downtown Detroit. Its doors opened April 24th, 1915. The club celebrated its centennial this year with the dedication of a 2.3 million dollar sculpture project commemorating the club's original mission--supporting amateur athletes.

Henry Ford's renowned architect Albert Kahn designed the six-story Italian Renaissance Revival building which boasts a grand staircase, a hotel, meeting rooms, a ballroom, banquet facilities, restaurants, Grill Room bar, exercise facilities, a lap pool, a gymnasium, a basketball court, a spa, an eight lane bowling alley, and a glass enclosed rooftop lounge with a cigar bar.

Banquet/Ballroom

Many Metropolitan Detroit residents are unfamiliar with this Detroit institution, located at 241 Madison Avenue on the corner of John R. Street. Today, DAC claims forty-four hundred members from two thousand companies. Twenty-nine hundred resident members have voting rights and--at last report--pay a $3,500 entrance fee and $300 to $400 dues per month, depending on the level of membership. The club has four hundred intermediate members (ages 21-33) and eleven hundred non-resident members scattered around the country and internationally.

The DAC survives on membership dues and new growth. The club encourages the families of its members to participate in club events and fundraisers. The sons and daughters of Detroit's business elite comprise a good portion of DAC's intermediate membership. Their children benefit from this arrangement as they have for generations.

Henry Ford was an original member, as has every generation of his descendants since. The DAC has been the most prominent locale for Detroit's business power-brokers to network with the city's movers and shakers. The club's founding members once controlled ninety percent of the world-wide automobile business. Many of the economic decisions affecting the Detroit area were discussed over cocktails at these exclusive gatherings.

Olympic-sized lap pool.

During much of DAC's history, Jews, African-Americans, and women were denied membership. One by one, those barriers were overcome. In 1986, women were finally admitted and currently make up twelve percent of the club's members. Today's club is trying to shed its good old boy heritage.

A strict application process is in effect. Potential members must have a sponsor, six members to write recommendation letters, an intensive interview, and approval by DAC's membership committee. This private club reserves the right to deny membership to anyone.

Geoffrey Fieger

Earlier this year, Geoffrey Fieger--best known as Dr. Jack Kevorkian's lawyer--was summarily rejected after filing for club membership. Fieger's sponsor delivered the bad news personally. The DAC never sent a formal letter of rejection nor was Fieger told why he did not measure up.

When asked why he was rejected, Fieger commented, "The DAC has a long history of bigotry, and I'm a lawyer for the underdog. The club's hierarchy are deeply ensconced in that old tradition."

The Ypsi-Ann Trolley - Maybe What's Old Can Be Made New Again!

While doing some research on Washtenaw County, Michigan, for my next book - The Rainy Day Murders - I came across an interesting tidbit of history about the Ypsi-Ann trolley which linked the campus of Michigan State Normal College in Ypsilanti with the campus of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor some nine miles away.

This early mass transit service was popular, and at its height served approximately 600 people a day. Trains operated every ninety minutes at an average speed of eight miles per hour. The original fare was a thin dime. Despite frequent breakdowns and delays in its schedule, the line got plenty of use from U of M students, who were mostly young men--and from the Normal College students, who were mostly young women. It was said that on the weekends, a rough parity was achieved.

Established in 1889, this extension of Detroit's longer Interurban line was steam powered. Because Ypsilanti's population could not support its own streetcar system, a seven and a half mile line was built the following year connecting Ypsilanti's downtown with the outskirts of Ann Arbor. Ypsi-Ann trolley owners petitioned the Ann Arbor Common Council to extend the line into the city. The steam powered engine was designed to look like a street car on wheels, so it would not scare the horses. It could haul as many as four trailers.

But Ann Arbor residents opposed the noisy and dirty steam locomotives. Arrangements were made with the Ann Arbor Street Railway Company for its cleaner and quieter electric cars to meet the Ypsi-Ann at the city limits and transfer passengers. In November of 1896, the Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor route was fully electrified opening a direct connection between the cities without a transfer.

The trolley service continued to operate until 1929. As the trolley made horses obsolete, cars and bus service made the trolley obsolete. Most of the line's tracks were pulled up in World War II for scrap metal drives. It was believed all of the Ypsilanti tracks were removed, but in 2004, road construction crews found a stretch of track on Washington Street buried under the pavement.

Today, anyone who drives down Washtenaw Avenue can attest to the congested traffic between the cities. Too bad an old idea can't be made new again--or maybe it can. What about a solar powered mono-rail with electromagnets or some hybrid energy backup built over existing right of way?

America needs new technology. Why shouldn't Washtenaw County be the developmental center for a new age in transportation? Ann Arbor has the technical resources and Ypsi has the manufacturing facilities and know how. Create the new technology, build it in the old Ford plant, and ship it across the country and the world.

This could be the hottest commercial venture for the area since the development of the Ypsilanti union suit with the flap in the back--a well-known and sought after product across America in the nineteenth century. Look to the future.

The Rainy Day Murders Reincarnation

I think about this Robert Frost poem every time I'm asked if The Rainy Day Murders will be finished soon. "The Armful" sums up where I'm at in the writing process.

The Armful 

For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns --
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once,
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with hand and mind
And heart, if need be, I will do my best
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road
And try to stack them in a better load.

After seeking advice from several editors, I've decided to restructure the story to strengthen the narrative and sharpen the focus. I'm considering a change of title also. 

The only realistic answer to the question--"When will your manuscript be finished?"--is when I master the material rather than it mastering me. The sooner, the better--but not until it is ready.