Jekyll and Hyde in Small Town

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 928, 22 March 1930, Page 18

Jekyll and Hyde in Small Town

UAL personality has been a favourite theme of ! 1 ■ writers of fiction—there : -ryvj-jl is the notable example Louis Stevenson's weird and fantasticmasterpiece, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”—but while real life cannot furnish instances savouring of the supernatural, there is sux-ely no more astounding case of masquerade and duplicity than that which came to light in a little township of the Middle West of America.

In the midst of this prosperous community, with its smug and complacent citizens, there laboured a young and athletic pastor whose saintliness and pious eloquence shone with almost dazzling radiance. No pillar of the church was further removed from the taint of scandal and suspicion, and no minister of the gospel strove with more tireless energy in bringing erring souls to repentance. Yet this seemingly blameless personage had a sinister side to his character, which transformed him as completely to the antithesis of a saint as the drugs of Dr. Jekyll evolved the debauched fiend Hyde. With gun and mask replacing the garb of the church, he found time to sally forth as a bank-robber, and, sometimes single-handed and sometimes with denizens of the under world, he brought off daring coups. Out of the spoils he financed gambling hells and indulged in all the sins of the flesh against which he had so vehemently and so hypocritically railed. And. wonder of wonders, this went on for years without even his evil associates dreaming what the true state of affairs was. immunity from exposure, however, bred carelessness, and one little slip brought about disaster. Then, with the edifice of deceit crashing about Uis ears, the robber-parson paid his duties to outraged society by shooting himself. Ever, in the days when he studied or the ministry after entering college from Eddyville, Nebraska, the Rev. Rex Frolkey, pastor of the

Strange Case of Dual Personality Ends in Suicide ;

Evangelical Church, of Le Mars, j lowa, acquired an air of mystery as! well as saintliness. True, he never ■ drank or gambled, but his strange absences from his quarters and his periods of surprising prosperity, alter- j nating with days of pecuniary embarrassment, provoked comment. Still, j no one put an evil construction on j his financial vicissitudes or his weekend disappearances, for everyone in the college and the town in which it was situated regarded this young j divinity student; with respect. Not) only were his eloquent discourses | against the pitfalls of this wicked i world the foundation of his reputation I for good living, bu t his general con- j duct gave solid support to his ap- i pearance of piety. The more frivolous j souls among his classmates, too, were j prepared to overlook his sedate ways | because he was a star football player! and an aU-vound athlete. Altogether!

he achieved a fair popularity, and seemed destined .and admirably suited to the hum-drum career of a pastor iu a small town. All the time, however, his evil genius was shaping for him a more sinister destiny—suggesting a role of criminality and debauchery which could find shelter ’neath the cloak of religion. Thus equipped, he settled in Le Mars. For some time the young minister was ostensibly eking out -a livelihood as a sort of deputy to other pastors ill the neighbourhood while they were sick or on vacation, but eventually fortune smiled on him, and he wooed and wed one of the wealthiest women in the little town. Le Mars is small enough for everyone to know everybody else’s business,' and a place where the censorious eye is never closed. Ygl Frolkey never tripped up, and during his 10 years’ occupancy of the pastorate of the local Evangelical church, with its small congregation of prosperous citizens, he laboured steadfastly iu his campaign against sin, and seemingly earned his moderate salary to everybody’s complete satisfaction. Mrs. Frolkey became the mother of two children, and, despite her own ample resources, kept a tight hand on her husband’s income, slender though it was. She knew where every halfpenny went. No wonder, therefore, she laughed to scorn the innuendo contained in an anonymous letter that somebody looking remarkably like her husband was drinking, gambling, and throwing money awav on women in Sioux City, only 35 miles distant. It was impossible, she declared. Her Rex had no money to throw away even if he were minded to kick over the traces, but the whole thing was absurd. Little did she dream that the unknown writer was telling the truth. Frolkey was a gambler and a drunkard, an associate of criminals, and, worse, a licentious brute. That he was able to maintain this double life so long without discovery is a tribute 4 to the mau’s cunning. The fact that.Le Mars was a sort of water(Continued in next column.)

tight community, with its inhabitants living self-centred, parochial lives, may also have been a contributory factor. Whatever were the circumstances, Frolkey contrived to • cut his life iu half, as it were, keeping each section separate and distinct. It was, of course, unthinkable that he could find the wherewithal to carry on his profligacy out of his scant salary as a minister. Neither could he risk asking his wife for money. Her only indulgence to him, apart from providing a comfortable home, apparently, was the gift of a high-powered car, capable of speeding at over 70 m.p.h. Money he must have, and so it was, when his duties at Le Mars permitted, he used to steal away in his motorcar, and with gun and mask, ranged through the countryside, holding-up and robbing banks. His very audacity aud the speed of his car brought him through many daring forays scathless. In Sioux City, where he lived his other life, he was a devil-may-care figure in the underworld—associate of gamblers, gold-diggers, crooks, ancl thieves. Not one of them knew that he was the parson of Le "Mars. Sometimes shady characters recruited from these dens of vice accompanied him on his enterprise: sometimes he went alone. Invariably he came back with ample funds. Meanwhile, the growing lawlessness in the district and the prevalence of bank robberies spurred the citizens to action. Volunteer corps - —or, as they are known in America, the Vigilantes—were organised, and by means of an elaborate telephone system took the field quickly in fast cars when the alarm was given. Night and day they scoured the highways, but still the mysterious bandit eluded them. More often than not Frolkey, who was an ardent Vigilante, took part in the comedy of chasing himself! Nemesis, however, was on Frolkey’s trail. Three years ago he quarrelled with the elders of his church and resigned. Thereafter he became a sort of itinerant preacher, making the street corners his pulpit, and this freedom from the ties of a regular flock gave him greater opportunities for his nefarious activities. EmboldI ened by his long run of unbroken ! success iu chime, he became careless | and, inevitably, the crash came, j One autumn day he sallied forth to rob. single-handed, the State Bank | of Sioux Centre. The odds seemed to j be in Frolkey’s favour. The call of ! the inner man had emptied the bank of all its officials save the assistant | cashier, who had elected to do duty j during the lunch hour. A few townsj people idly lounged in the vicinity of

the premises, and their curiosity was only mildly aroused when they saw a car parked nearly against the kerb. One of the idlers mustered sufficient energy to stroll to the vehicle and inspect it. Casually he noticed that the licence was made out to the Rev, Rex Frolkey, of Le Mars. Expectorating in the gutter, he moved away, little realising that a drama was about t:o be enacted. Suddenly the comatose citizens were galvanised to life and excitement. Out of the portals of the bank they saw issuing a man wearing a mask. He got into the car and drove away. Half expecting a joke, the onlookers dashed inside the bank and found the assistant cashier and a solitary depositor prostrate in terror on the floor. Then only they learned that there had been a hold-up and that the robber had got away with all the cash —about £2OO. Frolkey had disappeared, but the fatal mistake he committed was in still wearing the mask when he walked out of the bank into the street. Had he been unmasked he would not have been suspected of a sinister errand, but even so, those who followed on his trail were incredulous that the parson was the real robber.

The Sioux City viligantes were rapidly mobilised and a party went to Le Mars and, pei’suading the local police chief to accompany them, went to Frolkey’s house. The pastor put up a perfect bluff, and the visitors as well as the police chief were persuaded that they had made an error. The visitors departed, but the respite was only temporary. Realising that the game was up. Frolkey dashed to his car and careered madly along the road to a farmhouse. There he pulled up sharply and handed the astonished farmer’s wife £IOO, gasping at the same time, “They are after me. I have done something dreadful!” Then, walking into a barn, he put a bullet through his brain. After he had so dramatically cheated justice, Frolkey was identified by officials of the Orange City National Bank as the leader of a gang of four bandits who had held-up and robbed the place of nearly £3,000 two months before. Frolkey was also believed to have lifted £2,500 at Mobridge, and was also suspected of bank robberies in Auburn, Dana, Gilmore City, Bassett, Estherville, Turin, and Cherokee. Staggered and dumbfounded though his wife, children and neighbours were, their bewilderment was not greater than that of the crooks of Sioux City, among whom this modern Jekyll-Hyde had squandered his illgotten gains.