Commerce High School - Commerce Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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ents. Meanwhile Andy was just approaching the house from a visit to the city, when, spying a white clad form down the road, he became suspicious, and putting on full speed, he swooped down upon Harry before he had time to dart into a sheltering thicket, and our hero was suddenly recaptured, and pulled into the car. Harry yelled so lustily that Andy had to hold his hand over the boy’s mouth, and follow this action with threats before he could silence him. ‘Til make your father pay dear for this. It will cost him exactly $10,000 more or I quit,” Andy said. At last the day come for writing the letter which was to decide whether his captors were to be rich or merely fugitive kidnapers. Harry was requested to write a short note to his father; this he did, very neatly, after first carelessly trying out his new pen in the upper corner of the paper, but as that was a hoy’s trick, Andy thought the careless marks would appeal to the boy’s father, and the letter was sent scratches and all. Dear Dad: I am being well treated here, and every one is very kind to me. Please do as they say, because I want to see you and mother soon. (Signed) Harry Astorbilt, Jr. Then the threat was written by Andy: Be at the Central Park Zoo at two o’clock Friday, the thirteenth, with $100,000 in a satchel and give it to a man dressed in a brown suit with a carnation in the lapel of his coat Be near the north entrance. If you show this to anyone or bring anyone with you to the meeting it will go hard with your son. (Signed) The Holder. When Mr. Astorbilt received the letter, he called up McConnell who came in haste. ‘‘I’ll do my best to get them, though I see no clue. There are no water marks, nor anything to identify the sender, but I’ll sec that Harlem, where it was posted is searched more thoroughly. The next morning a photographic reproduction of the letters was shown in the “Sun.” That morning, Mr. James A. Smythe, head teacher in the Shorthand Department of the High School which our hero had attended was reading his morning paper while on his way to school. All of a sudden, he jerked his paper more to the light and stared at the printed page before him. It was the small pen scratches in the corner of Harry’s letter which attracted his attention. It at once dawned upon him that Harry was trying to communicate with someone, probably himself, and a feeling of pride came into his heart as he thought of the boy's daring. The first sign, he immediately decided read, “Help, but what good would that do if he could not read the remainder. He 122

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The car started with a jerk, passed swiftly and silently through the residence section, and finally passed Harry’s very home. Out into the country went the car, and for three hours continued its speed, then pulled up before an old brick house. Both the surroundings and the house itself, presented a very dilapidated appearance. The shrubbery and lawn had been untrimmed for years and as for the house, there appeared great cracks on the outside walls, which seemed almost ready to fall apart. But over the entire building ivy had grown until it had effectively covered these ill-looking places, as though Nature herself was ashamed of such blemishes Taking the place as a whole, it was indeed fit to carry out such a notorious scheme as Harry’s captors had in mind. There was a short consultation between the chauffeur and his companions, then the unconscious form of the lad was hurried into the old brick house, and the car sped back to the city. Now Andy B was a misguided young fellow of high society. He was reputed to be very wealthy, but in reality, he was at the present time being very hard pushed by his creditors and friends for certain honor debts, and he had not the money to pay them. So he had hit upon this scheme as the easiest way in which to get the most money in the shortest possible time. With two boon companions, he had undertaken this kidnaping. After another discussion the three decided that so far in their proceedings, they had been unnoticed. The old place was reported as haunted, and the country folk would go out of their way to avoid passing the house, so they felt quite safe on that score. In the meantime, Harry’s father was nearly frantic over his loss. He raised the $500 to $5,000, but in vain. The boy could not be found. The whole country was searched Little Italy was gone through as with a fine tooth comb, still no sign. Chief McConnel with his men, ran down every possible clue, and offered theories in vain. Then the reward was raised to $10,000, and detectives from all parts of the country took part in the search. But there were so pitifully few clues to work on. Meanwhile Harry had tried many times to escape, but he had never yet succeeded. “Andy” was taking no chances on being caught. One night, however, the boy did get away. He was confined in a little back room on the second story and even his clothes were taken away from him, as Andy said, “So the little fool will be less liable to try to escape.” But Harry was a gritty fellow, like his father, so one dark, stormy evening, he quietly tore up his bed sheets, and knotting them together, tied one end to his bed post, then slid down through the dark. As he now recognized the country through which he had motored while unconscious, he set out for the nearest farm house, cold and shivering, but determined. He was running down the road, thinking of a joyous reunion with his par- 121

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Decided the second must stand for the street or town where the lad was confined, if the boy indeed had such knowledge. Hurrying to school, he obtained a street directory, then compared the names of the streets with the outline. None would fit. Next he looked over the suburbs and small surrounding towns. Ah, he had it. It was Butte. A little slanting straight line, but it stood for much Turning his attention to the remaining outline, he quickly decided it stood for “brick building.” How easy. A brick building in the village of Butte. Surely there were not many brick houses in that small town. Hurriedly he went to the residence of Mr. Astorbilt. As the fine looking old gentleman came into the room, Mr. Smythe noticed the dark rings around the eyes. The haggard look in his face and the general forlorn appearance indicated how deep was the attachment between father and son. Cordially welcoming his son’s teacher, Mr. Astorbilt begged him to sit down, but Mr. Symthe stood, the better to give his good news. “Mr. Astorbilt, I think I know where your son is at the present time.” For a moment, Mr. Smythe thought the man would faint, and sprang to assist him, but quickly recovering himself, the father demanded, “What’s that, know where my son is! For the love of heaven, bring him to me, and the reward shall be yours.” “I do not know who holds him, nor how to get there but I do know where he is. Lend me your largest car and eight good men, and I think you will quickly see your son again.” Then, briefly Mr. Smythe explained how he came to have his information. Consent was quickly given, and in a short space of time, the party was on its way- As they approached Butte, a small place of about four hundred population, the chief hailed a farmer lad, and asked him if he knew of any old brick house in the vicinity. “Yes sir,” there is an old haunted house just up over that hill, but no one will go near it. Quickly tossing the astonished farmer lad a shining silver dollar, the chief started the machine for the top of the hill. Stopping the car a short distance from the house, the searchers circled around to the rear by aid of the friendly trees. Here they decided to have four of the men charge the house, and the remaining four stationed at places where they could watch. Mr. Smythe begged to be with the first party. So being provided with an automatic Colt, he followed the Chief. After a plucky struggle, the kidnapers were captured, and jailed, but as Kipling would say, “That is another story.” Suffice it to say, Harry was soon restored to his parents. The boy often reminded his father that his rescue was due to his knowledge of shorthand and the cleverness of the master in deciphering the apparently meaningless marks of a boy’s new pen. HOWARD KIRK, 1912. 123