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CRIME DOES NOT PAY
No.
5 of a Series of Extraordinary Revelations
Written by SOPHIE LYONS
j
j
The Most Famous and Successful Criminal of Modern Times, Who Made a
Million Dollars in Her Early Criminal Career and Lost If at Monte Carlo, and
Has Now Accumulated Half a Million Dollars in Honorable Business Enterprises
Written by Sophie Lyons.
Copyright. 1913. by the Star Company.
F ROM the moment when he commits
his first crime the professional crim
inal never knows what it is to enjoy
real peace of mind. His crimes hang over
him like the sword of Damocles, and un
less be reforms he can never be free from
the fear of some day being found out and
®ent away to prison for a long term,
i And arrest is not the only thing he has
to fear—he is continually face to face
\ With the danger of serious injury or death.
! Whatever the crime he undertakes he
must run the most desperate risks—he has
to stake not only his liberty but life itself
on the narrowest of margins
The powerful explosive he is using to
blow open a safe may go off prematurely,
as it did one night when George Mason
and I were robbing a bank in Illinois, and
leave the robber half dead.
Perhaps an Indignant mob may dccioe
to take justice into its own hands by
lynching the criminal. This is what hap
pened to one of my comrades in Kentucky.
They had the noose around his neck and
were all ready to string him up when I
arrived in the nick of time to save his life.
Perhaps he will be caught in the act at
one of his crimes and shot down like a
dog, as my husband, Ned Lyons, was in
Connecticut one night. That was the nar
rowest escape mv husband ever had—I
saw it with my own eyes, and if i live to
be a hundred I shall never forget the
agony of it all.
At the time of this thrilling adventure
the police wanted us so badly for our share
In several famous robberies 'hat Ned and
I did not dare lo undertake any operations
In the large cities which usually formed
our most profitable fields. So. being in
need of ready money, we had decided to
take a little trip through eome of the
smaller towns of New England. The
amount of cash to he !ia<i from the banks,
stores and postolTices in these, places was
not large, hut, on the other hand, it was
not hard to get and we thought we ought
to be able to spend two or three weeks
quite profitably in the nearby towns of
Connecticut and Massachusetts.
As my health that Summer was not very
good and Ned did not want me to take any
very active part in the robberies, we in
vited George Mason to go along with us.
Prom the start we seemed to be ill-fated.
Ned and George succeeded in getting into
a bank in Fitchburg, Mass., bill were
frightened away by a watchman before
they had time to open (he safe. From the
postoffice in a little village just outside
Fitchburg we secured only eight or ten
dollars to pay ns for our trouble. Quite
discouraged and desperately in need of
money we went on to Palmer. Mass.
There I scouted around and discovered
that the most likely pfare for us to rob
was G. L. Hitchcock's drug store, whfch
was also the village postoffice. A storm
came up to hide the full moon, and this
enabled us to make the attempt that very
night. It was not the easiest job in the
world, for Mr. Hitchcock and hfs family
lived directly above the store and the
least noise was sure to rouse them.
How We Robbed a Store
Shortly after midnight I took up my
position in an alley in the rear of the
store to stand guard while Ned and George
removed a pane of glass from a cellar
window. Through this opening the men
squeezed, and presently the dim reflection
of their dark lanterns showed me that they
had safely reached the store above.
I had been standing there in the rain
for nearly twenty minutes when a low,
rumble from inside the store made me
Prick up my ears. Just as I was puckering
my lips to whistle a s'hrill warning to my
comrades I saw them appear at the back
door of the store carrying between them
a small iron sa<e. It was this safe rolling
over the floor which 1 had heard.
The sate was a small affair, but so well
■made that it had successfully resisted all
their efforts to drill it open. Finding it
'•as not too heavy to be carried they had
decided to take it outside the town, where
they could blow it open without fear of
arousing the sleeping village.
We must have made a strange proces
sion as we trudged along through the dark-
ness—the two men partly carrying and
partly rolling the safe along, and all of us
-ading through mud halt way to our
knees.
At last we reached a meadow far enough
removed from any houses for our purpose.
Oodge -Mason filled one of the holes he
had .trilled with black powder and wrapped
the safe with some old sacks to protect
the fuse from the wet and also to muffle
the noise of the explosion.
Ned touched a match to the fuse and we
scurried to a safe distance. The charge
went off with a dull boom—the shattered
door of the safe flew high into the air and
landed several ..arris away.
W..iting a few minutes to make sure
that no on" In the village had been awak
ened. we hurried back to get our plunder.
There -were $310 in cash, a diamond ring,
some geld pens and fifteen or t-.enty dol
lars' worth of postal stamps. With the
few dollars the boys had taken from the
till this made a trifle more, than four hun
dred dollars for our night’s work—a piti
fully small sum compared with what some
of our bank robberies brought us, but
enough to support us until we could plan
some more ambitious undertaking.
Just as we were dividing our plunder
Into three equal shares a freight train
whistled in the distance.
•'George and I will jump on this train,"
said my husband, giving me a hurried kiss.
"It's safer than for the three of us to stick
together. Good-bye- - and take care of
yourself. We'll meet you in South Wind
ham, Conn., late tonight or early to
morrow.’’
Wet, bedraggled and so tired that I
could have fallen asleep standing up, I
groped my way to the railroad station and
curled myself up on a bench to snatch
what rest 1 could. Just before daybreak
a milk train came along. I boarded this
and travelled by a roundabout route to
South Windham.
■ y <•*!?-*
«p^ir
/V v v) / JjgKfe.
-
My Husband Is Shot
I reached there late in the afternoon and
went straight to the postoffice. This was
always the accepted rendezvous for pro
fessional criminals when no other place
had been agreed upon. Detectives in every
city might very profitably 3pend more of
their time watching the poatoffice, for
wherever the criminal is he makes a point
of calling there, at least once every twenty-
four hours to keep appointments with his
friends or in the hope of running across
some acquaintance.
Ned and George were there waiting for
nie, and mighty glad they were to see inc.
for they had heard vague rumors of a
woman having been arrested on suspicion
that she knew something about the Palmer
robbery.
The best opportunity the sleepy little
town afforded seemed to he a general store
run by a man named Johnson. I dropped
in there late one evening and. on the pre
text of buying a crochet hook, saw the old
proprietor locking the day's receipts -
quite a respectable bundle of money—In a
ramshackle safe which offered about as
much security as a cheese box.
Wo got everything in readiness to break
into tlie store the following night. It was
a foolhardy time for such a job. as there
war. a bright moon but we were hungry
■ > £ J ■’ j
-v*
Uft'
•l:m
Sophie Lyons—the Queen of the Burglars”
for money, and one more good haul would
supply enough to keep us in comfort until
we could lay our plans for some robbery
really worthy of our skill.
There was really little I could do to help
the men. but I could not bear to be left
behind. Just after midnight 1 stole out of
the railroad station, where 1 had been
waiting ostensibly for the night train to
New York, and hid myself in the doorway
of a livery stable, where I had a good view
of the store we were going to rob.
Pretty soon 1 saw my two comrades
come cautiously down the main street from
opposite directions. They met underneath
a window of the store on the side which
was in the dark shadow of a tree.
The window was so high above the
ground that my husband had to climb up
on George Mason's shoulders to feach it.
1 could hear the gentle rasp of his jimmy
as it worked against the fastenings.
At last he raised the sash gently and
stepped Into the store. Then he leaned far
out across the sill and stretched his
brawny arms down toward his companion.
Mason gave a leap, caught hold of Ned's
wrists and. with the agility of a circus per
former. swung himself up into the window.
All was as silent as the grave. The only
sign of life I could see in the peaceful
street were two cats enjoying a nocturnal
gambol on a nearby piazza roof. 1 shivered
for fear they might start yowling and
awaken somebody to spoil our plans.
Just at that instant one of the cats upset
a flower pot which stood at a window
opening on the porch roof. To my horror,
that pot went rolling down the roof with
a tremendous clatter, hung suspended for
a second on the eaves, then fell to the
stone steps with a crash that woke the
echoes.
At once the whole town awoke. In every
direction 1 could hear windows being
thrown open, children crying and sleepy
voices asking what the trouble was.
At a window directly over the store
where my two friends were a night-capped
head appeared and a frightened woman
screamed, “Help! Burglars!’’ at the top of
her lungs.
That completed the havoc which the
playful cats and the flower pot had begun.
From .every house half dressed msn armed
with rifles, shotguns and all sorts of weap
ons poured into the street.
All this racket had started too suddenly
for me to give Ned and George any warn
ing. I could only crouch farther back in
the shadow of my doorway and trust to
Providence that the villagers would over
look me in their excitement.
"There goes the burglar now!” some one
shouted, and just then I saw my husband
dash past my hiding place so close that 1
could have touched him. He was headed
for the open country 'beyond the railroad
tracks and was running faster than I had
ever supposed a man of his weight could.
“Stop, or I'll shoot!” yelled an old white-
whiskered farmer who stood, rifle in hand,
not a dozen yards away.
But Ned. if he heard the command, made
ne move to obey, instead, he only ran all
the faster, hunching his head down be
tw< u his shoulders and zigzagging back
and forth across die road as if to make his
bulky form a less favorable target.
The old farmer raised his rifle as deii'o
erately as if he iiad been aiming at a
squirrel instead of a fellow man. Three
shois blazed out in rapid succession.
Tiie first shot went wild. At the second
my husband stumbled. At the third he
threw up his hands and pitched forward
headlong in the road.
'We've got him!" the crowd shouted
with what seemed to me fiendish glee and
rushed up to whore Ned's body lay in a
quivering, bloody heap.
1 supposed he was dead, but whether
dead or alive ' knew there was nothing I
could do to aid him. Nervous and trem
bling at tlie awful sight I had seen, 1
slipped out of town unnoticed.
What, Came of Our Crimes
I saw nothing of George Mason and for
months afterward did not know how he
had escaped. With better judgment than
my husband showed, he had remained
quietly in the store after the outcry started.
He saw the shooting, and in the confusion
which followed he found little difficulty
in getting out of town.
Friends of mine in New London aided
me to return to the hospital in Hartford,
where Ned had been taken alter the shoot
ing. His recovery was slow, for there was
a bullet imbedded nine inches deep in ms
back which the surgeons were unable to
remove. As soon as he was able to stand
trial, he was sentenced to three years in
State prison, and when he had completed
this term he was given three years in
Massachusetts for the robbery at Palmer.
Tiiis was the result of our crimes in New
England—my husband nearly killed and
sentenced to six long years in prison. Can
you wonder why I have learned the lesson
that crime does not pay?
But. to my sorrow; 1 did not learn the
lesson then—no. not for many years after
that. With my husband in prison the sup
port of my little ones fell wholly on my
shoulders, and I promptly turned to bank
robbing as the easiest way I knew of
making a living.
My early training under such expert
bank robbers as Ned Lyons, Mark Shin-
burn and Harry Raymond made me ex
traordinarily successful in this variety of
crime. The cleverest men in the busi
ness began to have respect for my judg
ment and were continually inviting me to
take an important part in their risky but
very profitable ventures. Soon, as i am
going to tell you, my reputation for skill
in organizing the most daring robberies
and carrying them through without detec
tion had spread even beyond the limits of
the underworld.
One day. when 1 was trying to enjoy the
novel experience of living honestly for a
few weeks, a distinguished looking gentle
man called at my home. He saw my look
of incredulity when he announced himself
as a bank president and promptly pro
duced a heavy engraved card which con
firmed the truth of his statement.
Instantly I was on nay guard. In those
days my house was the headquarters for
all sorts of strange persons—receivers of
stolen goods, professional bondsmen, crim
inal lawyers, escaped 'prisoners—but I had
Horn a bank president What on earth
could the president of a bank want of a
bank robber?
"i understand that you are one of the
most successful bank robbers in Am ricy,"
he taid without as.' delay in coining to tlie
point. “! Want your advice in a little
undertaking; ! have in mind, and, if pos
sible, your help."
"My advice and help!" I exclaimed,
thinking the man must be out of his head.
"That’s exactly what 1 want," he re
plied coolly. "I want you to tel! me how
I can have my bank robbed, and, if pos
sible, I want you to take charge of the
robbery yourself."
As he explained, he was more than
$150,000 short in his accounts. He had
taken this amount from the bank within
the past year and lost every dollar of it
in speculation. He could not return this
motley and it was only a matter of a few
weeks before his embezzlement would be
discovered.
Being a man of prominence in his com
munity—a deacon in the church, his wife
a society leader, his children in college-
running away was out of the question.
For months he had been racking his brain
for some way of averting the ruin which
he had brought upon himself.
The plan he had finally devised for re
taining his good name and keeping out of
prison was to have his bank robbed. On
the night of the robbery he would leave
$50,000 in the vault to pay the robbers for
their trouble, but when he came to an
nounce the robbery to the police and the
newspapers he would declare that $200,000
had been taken.
In this way his thefts would be covered
up and he could continue to enjoy the
respect and confidence of the community
where he had always lived.
A Banker Hires Us to Rob
never before been honored by a vi
'1
I was amazed at the bold ingenuity of
this plan and the matter-of-faet way in
which he presented it to me. This was
the first I had eve r heard of a bank being
robbed by request of one of its officials.
Later 1 came to know that it is not an
uncommon thing for dishonest presidents
and cashiers to conceal their thefts by
hiring robbers to break into their banks.
The difference between what is actually
taken in one of these robberies by request
and what the police and the newspapers
say is taken covers the amount which the
embezzling official has lost in Wall Street
or some other speculation.
At that time such an idea was so new
to me that all sorts of suspicions crowded
into my mind. Probably it was trap for
me, 1 thought, and 1 positively declined to
have anything to do with it.
But the old banker would not take no
for an answer. He urged me to think it
over, and a week later he called again.
By this time the fear of the disgrace
which threatened him and his family had
made him a nervous wreck. He begged
so piteously for me to help him save his
good name that my womanly sympathies
got the better of me, and l finally con
sented.
All my feeling for him. however, did not
quite free my mind of the fear that the
whole affair might be a trick, and I deter
mined to protect myself and th’e robbers
who would assist me with all the shrewd
ness I could.
"We must have a written agreement," I
said at the very start.
The banker objected to this, fearing, I
suppose, that I might use the paper against
him later for blackmail. But I insisted
that I would not do a thing until t had it.
“If cou can’t trust me to that extent, I
can’t trust you," I said firmly—and at last
he told me to draw up the paper and he
would sign it.
According to tlie contract which I pre
pared, the banker paid five thousand dol
lars down and was to pay me an equal
amount as soon as 1 had completed my
arrangements and set the date for the rob-
bej-y. He further agreed that there should
be at least $50,000 in cash in the batik
vault on the night of our visit.
It was further provided that the banker
should co-operate with me and my fellow
robbers in every possible way, and that
he should do nothing to aid in our arrest
or conviction for the crime, which, as was
expressly stated, was committed at his
suggestion and not ours. In case the rob
bery v.as interrupted before we could get
Inside the vault the banker was to pay us
$25,000 in cash In addition to the $10,000
already advanced.
1 agreed to leave no stone unturned to
carry out the robbery and promised to re
turn the agreement to the banker as soon
as all its provisions had been fulfilled.
All this I set down on paper in as busi
nesslike way as I knew how. It was a
document which would have ipade the
poor old banker’s ruin even greater than
his. thievings had done if i had been the
sort of woman to break faith with him.
With trembling fingers he signed it and
counted out $5,000 in hills.
From the banker 1 had gained a good
idea of the bank and the sort of vault we
would have to enter. Now to get some
good, reliable men to help me do the job.
Of all the bank burglar in ray acquaint
ance George Mason seemed best fitted
for this particular crime. He was a cool,
resourceful fellow r^nci had had wide expe
rience in Mowing open bank vaults.
O'orge readily agreed to join me. and*
for the rest of the party hr recommended
two younger men—Tom Smith and Frank
Jones. I will call them, although those
were not their names. I do not like to
reveal their identity here because they
later reformed and led honest lives.
Right here lei me say that I never told
these three men of my arrangements with
the banker or that I was to receive from
him $10,000 in addition to what we ex
pected to find in the vault. If they are
alive to-day and read these lines they will
learn here for the first time that the hank
in Quincy, Ill., which they helped Sophie
Lyons rob was robbed by request of its
president.
Boring Into the Bank Vault
I sent word to the banker that we were
ready and he came to my house and paid
me $5,000 more. Then, by different routes,
George Mason, the other two robbers and
I proceeded to Quincy
I was the first to arrive. I went to the
leading hotel, announced my plan to add
a patent medicine laboratory to the town’s
industries and began to look around for a
suitable location for my enterprise. As I
believe I mentioned in a previous' chapter,
this ruse of the patent medicine laboratory
was one 1 had borrowed from my friend,
’ Harry Raymond—he had used it to splen
did advantage in his robbery of the Boyl-
ston Bank in Boston.
Of course, it was a part of my pre
arranged plan with the banker that the
quarters 1 should finally find best suited
for my purpose would be a room on the
second floor of the bank building, directly
over the vault we were going to rob.
I made several visits to the bank before
I completed my arrangements with the
president—partly to carry out my role of
the cautious business woman and partly
to study the construction of the vault and
see where we could best bore our way
into it.
By the time the lease was signed the
three men who were to be associated with
•me in the new business arrived. With
their help I secured a quantity of bottles,
labels, jars of chemicals, chairs, desks,
tables and other things we would need if
we were really making patent medicine.
Among the articles of furniture we
moved in was an unusually large oak ward
robe. We removed the bottom from this
and placed it over the exact spot in the
floor where we planned to dig our opening
into the bank vault.
Then, while one of the men and I osten
tatiously pasted labels on endless bottles
of ‘Golden Bitters,” the other two men
crawled into the wardrobe where no
chance visitor could see them and day
after day continued the work of removing
the layers of brick and timber which sepa
rated us from the vault. We stored the
debris as it accumulated in bags and car
ried it away every night.
It was a long job and a hard one. The
floor timbers were seasoned oak and be
neath tthem were two layers of brick.
In the cramped space Inside the ward
robe it was hard to work to the best ad
vantage and, besides, the men never knew
just how far they had progressed and
were in constant fear that an extra vig
orous blow would loosen a big strip of
plaster in the ceiling of the bank.
To our disgust we found after we had
passed through the floor itself that the
vault had a sort of false roof composed of
short lengths of railroad iron placed ir
regularly in a setting of tnorl
brick. This made our task thn
longer than we had expected. -
1
Late one afternoon George
Ui a i
1
and
ys
cleared away a space which {eft < ly i
robe
ther
rob
to
inds
son
thin
ugh
ten-
thin layer of lath and plasty betw
and the inside of the vault.
There was too much danger of thJgap
ing hole we had dug under the
being discovered to admit of any ft
delay. We made our arrangements 1
the bank that very night.
While the rest of the town wasting
to bed we waited Impatiently for
get late enough for us to lay our
on the $5<i,000 which I had every
to believe was waiting below tha
layer of lath and plaster. Luckily
the bank’s watchman was at a eh
ing party that evening and was not kely
to return until the wee small hours, Phis
prevented the necessity of my rem ting
on guard outside.
Shortly after midnight we turni
our lamps and lighted our dark k
I peered out of the window—the
were deserted.
George Mason took a small sledge
mer and with one or two well ditted
blows opened up the hole in the loot
wide enough to admit his body. Th he
tied one end of a long rope undi
arms and we lowered him down ini
vault.
out
rns.
eets
am-
his
the
My Comrade's Narrow Es tpe
To the best of my knowledge at
lief the cash which had been pro ised
of
V
me.
ver-
not
ited
would be found right on the shell
the vault, and all George would to
/ $ >*
do would be to stuff it inter his p< lets *
I any
and climb back up the way he "
But, whether through intent, or an
sight on the president’s part, that wi
the case. For several minu es we .
breathlessly listening to George# iff feSf-'v
bled around the vault by the Fight t his *
dark lantern. Then we heard him a
hoarse whisper:
"Sophie, it’s just as I was aftraid it' >ujd rtime
be. Every cent of the money is lock 1 up turn
In the small steel safe, I’ll have to
back up and get my tools.
It is the custom in big bank vau s to
have a small and separate steel to
put the actual cash into. Leases,
ments, account books and sometimes
and stock certificates are kept in th
vault, but money and things of s| cial
value are usually locked up in the
steel compartment.
With some difficulty we hauled
back up. From his bag he selecte
drills he thought he would need and
a bottle poured out what seemed
an extra generous quantity of
powder.
"Be careful and not use too mu<
that stuff,” I called as he disapp red
ays
again through the hole. “Ned at
said that was your worst failing.’
"Don’t you worry, Sophie,” be reiied;
“it will take a good big dose to opes this
safe.’
For several minutes we sat there lllten-
Our Exciting Adve
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As I
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which
be ge
Aft<
could
As I entered the square a
form looming above the head of the
surrounded him. He was memted or
an oak tree, which stood m l oot of 1
I shall never forget how hi looked
his feet tied with rope, his si its secu
him. He was bareheaded, aid they
-st the
coat and collar in order to ad
around his neck.
I shuddered to think that Snless I
plan of action Tom Bigelows lifeless
be dangling before my eyys. ,
Summoning every ounce tf nerve
sessed, I pressed my" way tty’O* -- ’ '
frantically: *
“That man is my sweethea t! Doi
please don’t lynch him!”