MURDER SEQUEL

Hokitika Guardian, 13 January 1930, Page 2

MURDER SEQUEL

WHO KILLED ROTHSTEIN

SAN FRANCISCO, December 12. A hiig eard-and-diee man by the name of Geoi'ge McManus finally entered the trial courts of New York alter a year of delays. But with this itinerant gambler was tried a considerable section of American polite society. McManus, according to indictment and public prosecutor,, was responsible for the death of Arnold Rothstein, king of Manhattan’s gamblers, racketeers and political fixers. Polite society, acording to all indications, was responsible for that part of the life of Arnold Rothstein which made him a power' behind many thrones.

The money of the underworld finds its way nuo respectable pockets of the upper world; the money of the upperworld finds itself .exchanged for the favours of the underwoild. The underworld learns to wear the mask of tiie upperworld and to join in its casual and intimate affairs. '

Be all this as it may, Rothstein—one of the most colourful figures in all America’s criminal history—was shot and killed one year ago, while a big card game was in progress in one of the swankiest hotels. Rothstein and his crowd had access to all that is swanky in New lone and it environs. Rothstein, to state it bluntly, had as his gambling clientele only the wealthiest and most influential people, One resort at which lie mad a fortune operated for the fashionable Saratoga race track set, He also operated a swanky country club, with a golf links. When any of his gambling resorts opened, whether in Broadway or way points, most of his players arrived there by invitation. He wanted only the biggest spenders with the biggest bank-rolls.

OFFICIALS INDEBTED TO HIM. Before that lie was a spectacular “plunger’’ until he was ruled off the tracks. Because of political contributions and a certain power he could cause officials to become indebted to him. Because of tile new gang participation in labour troubles his name became linked with the “fixing” of certain radical outbreaks.

Many days were occupied in the preliminaries in selecting jurors to hear the evidence at the trial, and several wrangles with opposing lawyers enlivened the court proceedings, during which reporters were reprimanded for interfering with the wheels of justice by interviewing prospective jurors.

The case against George McManus, the smiling gambler, was ended abruptly upon instructions of the judge for an acquittal verdict.

The Public Prosector put up hardly a struggle. He admitted he had proved almost nothing, when the defence lawyers moved for an instructed v*»djet. The Court agreed, and in five minutes’ time it was all over, leaving the question of who killed Arnold Rothstein. as free from answer as the one about the death of Cock Robin.

The Court was very nice about it, o. course, Judge Charles C. Nott, felt that the district Attorney had worked under a tremendous handicap, but that he had failed, nevertheless, to establish a hypothesis of guilt. McManus, when the Court adjourned, shook hands with all his friends, kissed his wife, and smiled his big, open-faced smile on everyone within smiling distance. Mrs McManus, flushed and nappy, clung on his arm. The whole proceeding was over in record-breaking time. Judge Nott came into court, wearing his black robes, nodded to the jury, seated himself on the bench, and looked at the prosecution table “1 would much prefer, gentleman of the jury, to have you weigh the circumstances of this case and take the responsibility from my shoulders. I would rather pass that responsibility on to you,’’ the judge said. “But in view of the facts I cannot do other than instruct you, gentlemen to Yeturn a verdict of not guilty in this case.” And that was all.

PUNY EVIDENCE

The action left the Rothstein mystery without a legal answer. The puny evidence in the trial showed how little the State really knew of who killed the biggest gambler in America. The parade of bellboys and chambermaids, red-hot sports, and not so hot policemen, which made up the trial of George McManus, was all over. There were no dramatics, no crisis, in fact not much or anything except the occasional and customary rows oe tween opposing counsel.

“Of course I’m glad,’’ said McManus. “But what else can I say.” “Well,’ said his lawyer, James D. C. Murray, “you can’t prove what doesn’t exist” “We put in all the evidence we had,” gloomily pronounced District Attorney J. B. Banton, adding words of praise for the police. Half a dozen policemen cleared the courtroom, McManus stood where he was for fully a minure, until his lawyer went over and told him the ease had terminated in his dismissal. They both laughed heartily, shook hands, and McManus patted Murray’? ample hack wiih his own even more ample hand. Then he turned around and strode over to his wife. He leaned way over and kissed her. Next he gathered her in his arms and gave her a great big hug. Neither one said a word. That done he gathered his party

around him—wife, sister, sister-in-law,' three of bis five brothers, and a half a dozen policemen—passed out of court, building steps, and climbed into bis waiting limousine.

He went straight home to mother, and the McManus clan, six strapping hoys, two girls, their wives and husbands, gathered to celebrate the passing of the shadow, which luid been over them so long,valid thus ended one ol tbe most sensational murder cases in Uncle Sam’s annals —a blank mystery yet.