(1) Depression Era Gangsters | John Dillinger | 9 | Battle at Little Bohemia | True Crime 

DILLINGER EPISODE 9: BATTLE AT LITTLE BOHEMIA The Federal Agents of the Bureau of Investigation had joined the hunt for John Dillinger, the outlaw who had escaped from jail twice and evaded police traps and raids so often that it was becoming ridiculous. The public cheered him on, but the heat on John and his fellow gang members, John “Red” Hamilton, George “Baby Face” Nelson, Homer van Meter, and Thomas “Tommy” Carroll was getting too great.

Johnnie had just shot his way out of his apartment in St Paul, MN, the gang’s jug maker Eddie Green was killed in a Federal ambush, and the Feds had arrested Dillinger’s girlfriend Billie Frechette. The Gang decided to go to ground somewhere quiet and out of the way. Underworld tavern owner Louis Cernocky suggested they go to the Little Bohemia Lodge in Northern Wisconsin.

I am Yvette, this is Defragged History. Thank you for tuning in to episode 9 of the Story of John Dillinger. How it started, how it ended, and everything in between. CHAPTER 1: THE LODGE At the end of the long, narrow Nazdar road in Manitowish Waters, WI, a hunting and fishing region, lies the two-story Little Bohemia Lodge, 30 yards from the shores of Little Star Lake.

Yup, it’s still there. It wasn’t fancy, but it was nice. There was a large kitchen, a bar, and a spacious living room downstairs that could be cleared for dancing. There were ten guestrooms upstairs and some cottages next to the building. Little Bohemia Lodge’s owner was the energetic and outgoing Emil Wanatka, a Bohemian immigrant.

After a stint as a bartender for the underworld in Chicago during Prohibition, he opened a restaurant in Racine, WI. Here Emil met Nan LaPorte from Manitowish Waters who was delivering her brother’s moonshine to the speakeasies. After Emil and Nan got married, they moved to Chicago and opened a restaurant called Little Bohemia, among his clientele were many underworld figures.

In October 1925 their son Emil Jr. was born and Wanatka decided to trade in the mean streets of Chicago for the mean woods of Northern Wisconsin. Emil bought a plot of land and built one of the many tourist lodges in the area and named it Little Bohemia. It was right along an infamous alcohol smuggle route from Canada to Chicago.

In 1931, a fire nearly destroyed the lodge and Wanatka had to remortgage his house to pay for the nearly $10,000 in renovation costs. The new mortgage forced him to remain open during the winter, as the only resort in the area. During the brutal Wisconsin winters, his guests were mainly hunters and traveling salesmen, but he offered dinner specials to the locals, and men from the CCC camp at nearby Mercer patronized the bar.

The CCC, or the Civilian Conservation Corps, was a voluntary New Deal work program for unemployed, unmarried young men charged with the preservation of federal, state, and local land. Again, I must point out that the following is based on eyewitness accounts, gangsters tall tales, and law enforcement reports, none can be considered entirely reliable.

But, it’s all we have. Strap in, it’s gonna be a wild ride. CHAPTER 2: GANGSTERS CARAVAN Early Friday morning, April 20, 1934, Louis Cernocky went up to the second floor of his tavern in Fox River Grove IL to wake up all the gangsters and their molls, He served them an early breakfast and at 7 AM, a four-car caravan left Chicago for the 400 mile trip to The Little Bohemia Lodge, in Manitowish Waters, WI.

John Dillinger in his Ford V-8 left first with John Hamilton and his girl Pat Cherrington. They’d go into Chicago to pack some more stuff for the trip. Next to leave were Homer Van Meter and his sweetheart, Marie Marion Conforti. Conforti, a 21-year- old petite Italian woman traveled with Rex, a small black Boston bulldog.

Pat Reilly, the Gangster-in-Training, was their driver. Van Meter would arrive first to give the place a once over to check if it was safe and map out emergency escape routes. A few minutes after Van Meter left, Nelson and his wife, Helen Gillis, headed out in a black Ford V-8 sedan with Kentucky plates. And, after they left, Tommy Carroll and his girl, Jean Delaney Crompton, took off in a black Buick coupe with California plates on loan from Cernocky.

Both Tommy and Jean were seperated from their spouses, but they considered themselves married to each other. Oh, and Jean’s sister Dolores Delaney was gangster Alvin Karpis’ girl. Two hours into the trip, Nelson ran a red light and crashed into a Chevrolet in Arlington, WI. The Ford’s left side was destroyed and the mirror was shattered.

No one was hurt. Carroll rolled up to the scene, pulled over behind Nelson, and kept the engine running. Uh, oh, was this going to be another road rage incident? Was trigger-happy Nelson going to shoot somebody? Again? No. Nelson managed to keep his temper in check. However, when the two gangsters in fancy cars with fancy molls started to attract a lot of attention, Nelson quickly handed the Chevy driver $83 to get his car fixed, and drove his clunker of a Ford to a garage fifteen miles down the road.

Before the mechanic returned with the repair forms, Jimmy and Helen hopped into Carroll’s car and disappeared. At about 1:00 PM, Homer Van Meter’s car turned unto Nazdar Road off Highway 51, passing an imposing wooden arched gateway, with a sign that said: LITTLE BOHEMIA CHAPTER 3: ARRIVAL Pat Reilly drove down the long road/driveway toward the Little Bohemia Lodge and backed Homer Van Meter’s car  into a parking space ready to pull out quickly if necessary.

Another car was just leaving and Reilly ran over to ask where the entrance was. Lloyd LaPorte, Nan Wanatka’s brother, pointed to the main door. As Lloyd drove off, he told his wife: “I bet that car is hot.” And shrugged it off. Homer Van Meter greeted the Lodge’s owner Emil Wanatka by name and Nan instantly knew: trouble.

Please be here for lunch! Please be here for lunch! Well, no such luck. Van Meter asked if Wanatka could put up ten guests for several days. They had a referral letter which should arrive soon. Wanatka, though smelling the Chicago stink on his new guests, was happy for the business. Yup. There was plenty of room.

Wanatka was wondering: what kind of city slickers would come all the way out here with a party of ten? After lunch, Van Meter cased the place and mentally marked emergency exits. There was only one, the main gate. Van wasn’t thrilled with the idea that the whole gang was stuck in the same location, but Emil said that no other lodges were open in the area that time of year.

At about 5 PM, John Dillinger, John Hamilton, and Pat Cherrington pulled into the parking lot. Fifteen minutes later, Tommy Carroll and Baby Face Nelson arrived with their ladies. The party of ten was complete. They couldn’t be more gangster if they tried: fancy suits, fancy cars, fancy ladies, and tons of heavy luggage on account of all the guns.

One of Wanatka’s waiters, sixteen-year-old George Baszo, lugging a bag into the lodge groaned: “There must be lead in this one. What are these guys, hardware salesmen?” Nelson handed Wanatka Louis Cernocky’s reference letter which said that the men were “friends who should be well treated.” Referals from Cernocky meant underworld.

But which gang was this? Then Nelson snatched letter back and violently tore it to pieces. As one does. Damn, son. Who are these people? Wanatka assigned three bedrooms on the second-floor of the main building to Dillinger, Hamilton and Cherrington, and Van Meter and Conforti. While Nelson and Carroll and their ladies were put in the three room cabins to the right of the lodge.

Nelson complained about Dillinger getting the royal treatment. “Who in the hell does he think he is? We’ll put him in the cottage.” To him, Dillinger’s simple room overlooking the parking lot was somehow superior to the three room cottage he got. Johnnie said later to Cherrington: “I’d have let the little bastard have the place if he hadn’t been such an asshole about it.

” Yeah, the gang were no fan of Nelson, but he was good at his job, so… there’s that. Pat Reilly ended up bunking with Dillinger, which was equal parts scary and exciting. Johnnie and crew were the only guests, but they watched and scrutinized every person who showed up at the Lodge. As one does. Nelson instructed staff that their guests would clean their own rooms, and strictly forbade anyone from entering their rooms.

As one does… Wait… no one does that. It was obvious to Emil that these guys were hot… or at least thought they were. So… who were they? Dude, what you don’t know, you don’t know and you don’t want to know. CHAPTER 4: POKER FACE That Friday night, the gang enjoyed a steak dinner in the Lodge’s bar room. Curiously, none of the men drank alchohol.

After dinner, the Gangsters invited Emil Wanatka to join them for a game of cards. Nan didn’t like the looks of any of them and went to the kitchen to talk to her sister, Ruth, wife of Henry Voss, the owners of the Birchwood Lodge, two miles up the highway. When Nan’s sister left, she went upstairs to go to bed and fell asleep, after she convinced herself that the men downstairs weren’t dangerous.

Wanatka tried hard to remember everyone’s name. There was “Jimmy” – Nelson, “Wayne” – Van Meter, “Tom” – Carroll, and “Johnnie” – Dillinger. Tom and Jimmy were chatty, but Wayne and Johnnie said little. Dillinger won the first round. Score! As he scooped up his winnings, Wanatka got a look inside his jacket. Oh dear.

“Here are two forty-fives in shoulder holsters. I got to thinking, who could this be in dead winter with a couple of guns on?” Emil casually checked the others for bulging jackets. Sure enough, everyone was packing heat. Who were these men? He studied their faces. So, Johnnie had a cleft chin and a mole between his eyes.

Ehm. Wait a minute… Emil was like: I eh need eh to … kitchen… In the kitchen, he picked up a Chicago Tribune newspaper. Well, whaddayaknow on the front page was a photograph of Johnnie… John Dillinger… the most wanted man in America. Damn, son. These guys were the hottest in all the land. Wanatka returned to the game, but then excused himself – he was tired.

Upstairs, Emil woke Nan. “Shut up and don’t talk. But I think the man with the dyed red hair is Dillinger.” Well, sleep’s ruined. All night, Nan jumped whenever she heard their two collies, Shadow and Prince, barking outside. However, they barked at every leaf that moved. So… all the time. The Gangsters didn’t get a full night’s rest, either.

Dillinger, Hamilton, and Van Meter worked three-hour shifts keeping night watch. The constant floor squeaks, knob turns, and footsteps up and down the hallway, turned the long dark night into a nightmare for Nan. CHAPTER 5: LET’S PLAY BALL The following morning, after breakfast, Emil pulled Johnnie aside. He recalled: “I took him into my little office and slammed the door.

I looked him right in the eye and said, “You’re John Dillinger.” Johnnie didn’t even flinch: “You’re not afraid, are you?” “No. Everything I got to my name, including my family, is right here, and every policeman in America is looking for you. If I can help it, there isn’t gonna be any shooting match. Why don’t you do me a favor and you fellows get out.

” Johnnie turned on the Dillinger charm 2000, placed his hand on Wanatka’s shoulder and smiled: “I’m hungry. I’m tired. Emil, all we want is to eat and rest for a few days. I’ll pay you well and then we’ll all get out. There won’t be no trouble. Don’t worry about anything.” Ok. Fine. The man had no choice. The gangster humored Emil by playing pinnochle.

Wanatka won. “I cheated him every hand. It was very friendly.” That afternoon, Homer Van Meter sent Pat Reilly back to Saint Paul, MN to pick up $4,000 from the stash he’d kept for safekeeping with Harry Sawyer. John Dillinger asked the gofer to get more ammunition. Now they’d been outed, they might need a bit extra.

Pat Cherrington was feeling a bit under the weather and said she would go along to see a doctor. The Two Pats headed out after lunch. Emil joined Van Meter, Carroll, and Nelson for target practice outside the lodge behind the helps quarters. They took turns firing a .22 rifle at an empty pickles can set up on a snowbank 100 yards away.

The gangsters were amazingly bad at it and Wanatka easily outshot them all. Or, perhaps they tried to ease his mind a bit… When the rifle jamed, they brought out Van Meter’s machine gun, and happily blasted away. Meanwhile, Dillinger borrowed a baseball mitt and played catch with Wanatka’s eight-year-old son Emil Jr.

Nan was not happy. At all. She was one baseball’s throw away from a total nervous breakdown. She’d heard all about J. Edgar Hoover’s Operation: Make Families Suffer, and read in the newspapers that morning that the G-men had arrested John Hamilton’s sister Anna Steve after he and Dillinger visited her in Sault Ste Marie, MI.

The poor thing was in jail! Nan didn’t want to go to jail. Yup, this was exactly the effect Hoover was after. Johnnie was nice and all, but then Baby Face Nelson joined the game. Emil Jr recalled: “[Jimmy] was throwing the ball too hard and my hand was hurting. So I quit and walked away.” That’s it. Nan wanted to get her son out of there.

Emil agreed. But they needed an excuse. CHAPTER 6: TIME FOR A PARTY Nan Wanakta thanked her lucky stars that she had the perfect excuse to get her son Emil Jr. away from the Lodge. Her older brother George LaPorte’s son had a birthday party later that afternoon. Nan threw some of Emil Jr.

‘s clothes in a bag, and announced to the Gangsters that the kid was expected at her brother’s house for his cousin’s birthday party. If the kid didn’t show up, they’d know something was wrong. Wanatka asked John Dillinger if he could drive him over. Johnnie said: sure. Emil Jr. recalled “I remember Dillinger even gave me a quarter to buy ice cream.

” That’s 5 bucks today. However, Johnnie insisted that Homer Van Meter go along to make sure Wanatka didn’t “say anything smart to anybody.” By the time Mr Wanakta and his shadow gangster returned to Little Bohemia, he’d made a decision. He was going to warn the police. Emil couldn’t call them because every time he used the phone one of the gangsters hovered nearby to listen in on the conversation.

He couldn’t sneak out unseen to tell a neighbor. Nor could he warn any visitors to the bar. The Gangsters wanted to know the names of every person who visited the Lodge and he wouldn’t risk the lives of his patrons. He decided it was safest to write a letter to a friend, George Fisher, an Assistant US Attorney in Chicago.

But, how to mail it? Well, Nan could go and give it to her brother George at the birthday party and he could mail it. Mrs Wanatka casually told Johnnie she was going to her nephew’s birthday party. Was that alright? Dillinger said: sure. Mrs Wanatka waited for a shadow gangster to be assigned to her, but Dillinger only smiled.

This scared the crap out of her. She got into the family Chevrolet and thought Dillinger was testing her. She pulled the choke so the engine kept dying. But when no one came out to help her, she slowly drove to the main road, Hwy. 51, and turned left. After a mile or so, a car appeared behind her. Probably nothing.

She passed her brother George’s house. She’d decided to mail the letter herself in Mercer, the next town over. As she left Manitowish Waters, the car was still following her. She slowed down and the other driver slowed too. Oh no… Well, it was everyone’s least favorite Gangster, Baby Face Nelson. Nan thought fast.

She would pick up her brother Lloyd LaPorte who lived several miles ahead on the other side of a big S curve. She slowly drove to the first turn of the curve, then floored it, and raced into her brother’s driveway, skidding to a stop. When Lloyd came out of the door, she called out: “Jump in.” Lloyd got in and ducked down while she floored it back unto the highway, just in time.

Nelson came around the curve. He hadn’t noticed anything. She told her brother she was in trouble. Lloyd remembered the fancy car pulling up to the lodge the day before, and joked, “I guess Dillinger is there.” “Dillinger IS there.” Called it! Nan slipped him a letter and told him to mail it since one of the gangsters was on her tail.

In Mercer, she floored it around a corner, slammed the brakes, and let Lloyd out unseen. She drove on to the general store to buy candy for the party. As one would. At the counter, Nan saw Nelson pull up on the sidewalk. He glared at her through the store window and pointed a finger at her. A warning. I see you.

Nan nearly died. She picked up the candy and left the store. Her brother Lloyd called from across the street: “Hey, Nan, give me a ride!” Dang, those are some Oscar worthy performances, right there. LaPorte got in the car. He’d mailed the letter at the railroad station. Nelson never saw him. The siblings drove to their brother George’s house where the birthday party was in full swing.

Nan tried to keep calm and carry on, but when people started joking about Dillinger, she lost it. She called her sister Ruth, her husband Henry Voss, and her two brothers, Lloyd and George, into the bedroom. So… John Dillinger was staying at their Lodge with his gang. But they’d be fine, they’d just mailed a letter to warn the authorities in Chicago.

Voss was like: it’s Saturday, Nan! That letter won’t be delivered until Monday. “You could all be dead by then.” The family considered options. They couldn’t alert the local Sheriff’s Office which was woefully ill-equipped to handle the likes of John Dillinger and crew. Henry figured he could drive to Rhinelander some 50 miles southeast, find a secure phone line, and call the Chicago police for help.

Where they lived, they only had a party line, the norm in Northern Wisconsin. A party line was where multiple subscribers shared a single phone line, so anyone who picked up the phone could hear what someone on that line said. They couldn’t risk the Gangsters hearing their call by accident. George didn’t believe in half-measures.

Let’s organize a posse and storm the Lodge right away. Voss was like: You want a blood bath? Because that’s how you’ll get a bloodbath. Nan prefered the call option, but she wanted to discuss it with Emil first. The next morning, Lloyd would swing by the lodge to pick up a pack of cigarettes. If Emil green-lit the plan, there’d be a note inside telling him to go ahead.

Nan left Emil Jr. at the birthday party turned impromptu slumber party and returned to Little Bohemia. Neither Nelson nor Dillinger questioned her about the unscheduled trip to Mercer. Thank goodness. Nan didn’t think she had it in her to give another Oscar-worthy performance. However, Nelson was sure something was up with Nan and her little trip to Mercer.

But when he warned Johnnie, he told Jimmy he was imagining things. Nelson couldn’t let go and creepily shadowed the Wanatkas where ever they went. John Dillinger wasn’t entirely oblivious about his curious hosts. He said:”…you couldn’t whisper your own thoughts to your pillow without Mrs. Wanatka knowing all about it ten minutes afterward.

” CHAPTER 7: DEATH NOTES At about 10 PM, Emil Wanatka came upstairs and Nan told him about her family’s plans. Her husband agreed it was best to call the police and wrote a note to his brother-in-law. It read: Henry – You can go to Rhinelander and call as planned. Not one word to anyone about it. Tell them to line up the highways.

There will be more here tomorrow and don’t let anyone know where you are going or why. We want to be protected by them as best as they can. Tell them that. The next morning, Sunday, April 22, Nan woke up a nervous wreck. She slipped the note in a pack of Marvels cigarettes, then washed down a couple of aspirin with whiskey.

She rarely drank, and it didn’t help. Then Lloyd LaPorte arrived with their 66-year-old mom. He figured bringing her along would make his visit look less obvious. Two Gangsters kept them in their sights at all times: John Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson. Lloyd casually asked: “Gee, I left my cigarettes at home.

 Have you got any, Nan?” Nan couldn’t speak and simply handed him the pack of Marvels. He took several cigarettes, then nonchalantly slipped the pack into his pocket. Emil appeared “Lloyd, you look tired. Go in the bar and get a drink” Wanatka handed him the drink and whispered: “Go into the mens room and get the cigarettes by the flush box.

” LaPorte sauntered into the mens room all chill and found a pack of Camels with another note with license plate numbers plus the gangster’s names. Lloyd now had two notes, if searched, either could be the death of him. He didn’t leave right away, but made some small talk with his sister and then left. Oscars for everybody! At the Birchwood Lodge, Lloyd handed the notes off to Henry Voss who drove to Rhinelander.

But it was a Sunday and Henry couldn’t find anyone to warn. Finally, he tracked down a real estate agent who was the son of  H. C. W. Laubenheimer, a US Marshal in Chicago. The realtor called his father to break the news: John Dillinger was in Manitowish Waters. Send everybody. CHAPTER 8: THE MAN YOU WANT MOST On April 22 at about 1 PM, Special Agent in Charge of the Chicago Field Office, Melvin Purvis, was enjoying the rarest of rare days off and was just chillin’ in his Chicago bachelor apartment when the phone rang.

It was Marshal Laubenheimer who relayed Henry Voss’s message. Oh, good, yet another useless “we-saw-John-Dillinger-traipsing-around- in-the woods-in-northern-wisconsin” tips. Purvis only had sixty men at his command, and could only pursue the few leads that seemed somewhat legit. He couldn’t wait to hear this.

He dialed the number the Marshal gave him, Henry Voss’s number, who merely said: “The man you want most is up here.” “You mean Dillinger?” Voss wasn’t going to mention the name over a party line. But Purvis insisted and Voss finally said: “Six members of the Dillinger gang are at a resort called Little Bohemia, and John Dillinger is among them.

”  Voss then rattled off a list of their cars license plate numbers and names. Promising. What’s the closest airport? Rhinelander. But John Dillinger said he’d leave Monday morning, so hurry! Purvis was already running, but not before telling Voss to meet him on the tarmac and wear a handkerchief around his neck so he could identify him.

Unleash the chaos! Purvis ordered all on and off duty agents to report to the Chicago Field Office and called Director J. Edgar Hoover at his home in Washington, D.C. to fill him in. Hoover told him to call Assistant Director Hugh Clegg who was still in St Paul, MN, investigating the Lincoln Court Apartments shoot out, and tell him to fly all available men to Rhinelander.

So… Hoover put Clegg in charge of the entire operation, Purvis would play second fiddle. At 2 PM, Clegg chartered a Northwest Airways plane for a whopping  $0.35 a mile. When he found a pilot, he, Inspector William Rorer, and three agents hustled over to the airport. Special Agent Werner Hanni and three other agents, who weren’t too keen on flying, grabbed the teargas guns, and would drive the four hours to Wisconsin.

At the same time, Melvin Purvis chartered a cabin plane belonging to actress Ann Harding, and instructed the pilot to have the engine warmed up and ready to go. Additional reinforcements were summoned in a 250 mile radius of the Lodge, from St. Paul, Milwaukee, and Duluth. Purvis, with untied shoelaces, still tying his necktie, ran into the office on the 19th floor of the Bankers building in Chicago.

Over 15 agents had come in under an hour and they were in battle mode: gathering guns, bulletproof vests, and tear gas equipment. Purvis picked 11 men to join him on the plane. The other four would drive with the tear gas. An hour later, at three PM, Purvis’s flight took off from Chicago’s Municipal Airport.

He’d land at Rhinelander after a three hour flight, at 6 PM. From the airport it was another hour and a half drive to the Little Bohemia Lodge. The area of the raid was completely unknown, but they’d have plenty of time to scope out the place before the Dillinger Gang left. Purvis later wrote: “The men in my plane were like soldiers awaiting the zero hour and this was nothing less.

” But the information he’d received, was obsolete. The Gang wasn’t leaving the next morning. They were leaving that evening. CHAPTER 9: SETTLE UP At 10:00 AM that morning, three hours before Henry Voss talked to Melvin Purvis, John Dillinger settled his bill with Emil Wanatka. Johnnie, as per usj, was generous, paid the $120 bill, and tipped another $110.

Dillinger was less than thrilled with the not-so-quiet Lodge. There was a constant coming and going of people, and that night Little Bohemia ran the usual Sunday dollar dinner specials. Which meant dozens more patrons could swing by, any of them potential snitches. Then the final straw: a local sat down at the bar after lunch, and demanded Homer van Meter had a drink with him.

When the Gangster refused, things nearly came to blows. That’s it. We’re leaving. Johnnie told Wanatka they would check out at six that evening, once Pat Reilly returned from St. Paul. The group would like one last steak and garlic dinner at 4:00 PM One John, not yet gone… Nan’s nervous system was about to collapse as she prepared the meal, plagued by many thoughts.

Had her brother-in-law informed law enforcement? Would they get there in time? If they didn’t, would Dillinger kill everyone before they left? If they did, would Dillinger kill everyone before they died? About 4:00 PM, the Gangsters sat down to dinner. Just then, Ruth Voss and her daughters parked near the kitchen door and told Nan that Henry would meet the G-men at Rhinelander.

Mrs. Wanatka was like: shhhhh! The walls have ears. And so does Dillinger, eating his dinner a few feet away. Nan needed to get her sister away from the dining room. “We bought so much meat for the weekend, won’t you take some?” She pulled Ruth into the refrigerator room and told her the Gang was leaving the moment that Reilly kid returned.

Ruth got in her car and raced to Rhinelander to warn her husband and the incoming Feds. Mrs. Wanatka went to the bar to get more whiskey and aspirin. She’d lost count of both, and the  liquor was only made her more jumpy. As she put the whiskey bottle back on the shelf, a hand touched her shoulder. Whoa! Oh, it’s Emil.

Whoa! Baby Face Nelson just emerged out of nowhere. Neither had heard him coming. Both fake-smiled at the Gangster, Nelson just glared at them. That’s… terrifying. Jimmy didn’t trust the Wanatkas one bit. He wanted to follow Nan into the kitchen, but changed his mind and rejoined his wife at his table instead.

If he had entered the kitchen, he would have seen Pat Reilly and Pat Cherrington pull into the Lodge’s parking lot, and alerted the Gang of their arrival. However, Reilly didn’t see the Gangsters cars anywhere and freaked out. Had the gang left without them, or had they been captured? Well… neither. That morning, overly cautious Dillinger had ordered the two cars hidden in the garage.

But Reilly sensed a trap, turned the car around, and drove off. He’d return after dark to snoop around. From her kitchen window, Nan saw Reilly disappear. Oh, good… the G-men could still make it on time. Oh, bad… there’d be a gun battle at her place. She started to regret a few things. After dinner, Dillinger went upstairs to check a road map and wondered what was taking Reilly so long? Speaking of roadmaps… up in the air, Purvis’ pilot had only road maps to guide him, and bad weather made the flight really rough.

It got so bad, that even the pilot got airsick. CHAPTER 10: TOUCHDOWN The plane carrying Assistant Director Hugh Clegg and his men landed a few minutes after 5 PM. Clegg found Henry Voss, wearing, as instructed, a white handkerchief around his neck. Clegg told Henry to draw a diagram of the Little Bohemia Lodge and its surrounding cabins.

The Lodge was on the very edge of a lake. The lake was only partially frozen and escape by boat was impossible, the agents only needed to cover three sides of the building. With Dillinger and crew not leaving until Monday morning, Clegg figured he had 10 hours to plan the raid. Plenty of time for all the agents en route from St. Paul and Chicago by car to arrive.

Since Hoover didn’t want any local police involved, they could put up their own road blocks. Next, Clegg needed wheels. He flashed his badge at a nearby Ford dealership but the manager told him he didn’t have any. Not until his salesmen returned. In two hours. A little past 6:00 PM, just before dusk, Purvis’s plane came in for a landing.

Which was as smooth as the flight over, as in, it wasn’t. One of the landing brakes failed, spinning the plane twice and it nearly tipped over. A crowd of curious town folk gathered at the airport. Two charter planes landing in Rhinelander so close together was big news. Purvis put on a smile and told them they were members of a wedding party.

Well, these men sure looked hella pissed off to be going to a party. No Oscars for any of you! Purvis orderedAgent Ray Suran to take Henry Voss, drive to the Birchwood Lodge, and scout a possible staging area for the agents. They’d meet him there. Purvis, quite pleased with the smooth operation, continued to unload the plane.

Minutes later, Voss’s car screeched up the runway and Henry ran up to tell the Agents his wife had arrived to tell him that John Dillinger had changed his plans. The Gang was leaving after dinner tonight. You mean… like now? Yup. The Feds went from 10 hours prep time to zero. For a moment, Agent Purvis felt all hope was lost.

But only for a moment. CHAPTER 11: SOUPED UP Melvin Purvis asked the runway crowd, still wondering why the wedding guests looked so darn grim, for a ride to the Ford garage so he could confer with Hugh Clegg. 21-year-old Isadore “Izzy” Tuchalski drove Purvis and two agents over in his jet black 1934 Ford V8 Deluxe Coupe.

Underway, Tuchalski bragged about his ‘souped up’ car with its high compression head, altered rear end, and a top speed of 103 miles an hour. Good to know, son. Clegg and Purvis had a brief meeting. The Feds had no time to wait for the dealership’s cars to return, no time to wait for the agents on route to Rhinelander by car, and no time to discuss strategies with Hoover in Washington.

They needed wheels and luck to get to the Lodge in time. They counted their force, 17 men in all. They’d leave Agent Sam Hardy in Rhinelander to coordinate the efforts from there. They figured they needed five cars. But the salesmen were still an hour away, so, Purvis turned to his driver. Son, I’ll give you $15 to use the car for the night.

Izzy was like: I don’t know… Purvis was like: I’ll just commandeer it. Well, that settled it. Purvis promised he’d return it without a scratch. One awesome car down, four more to go. Purvis ran around the neighborhood and flashed his badge a few times and commandeered four more cars. None as impressive as Tuchalski’s coupe, but they had wheels.

The caravan picked up the agents er… wedding guests… from the airport and brought them to the Ford dealership where they did a weapon’s check. At about 7:15 PM, the caravan headed out at top speed, but after a few miles, the highway turned treacherous. Recent rains had destroyed the gravel roads. Then twenty miles into the trip, one of the commandeered cars stalled.

Moments later, another car got a flat and drove into a ditch. Eight agents now had to stand on the running boards of the remaining three cars, holding on to the car with one hand, while gripping their guns in the other. It was snowing. Meanwhile, Ruth Voss told Nan to head over to her place, Birchwood Lodge.

Nan asked Dillinger for permission. Johnnie didn’t care. They were leaving soon anyway. Now where is Reilly? CHAPTER 12: PLAN OF ATTACK The three cars filled with G-Men screeched up the driveway at the Birchwood Lodge. While the eight running board agents tried to warm their frozen hands, Nan Wanatka informed Assistant Director Hugh Clegg that as of thirty minutes ago, John Dillinger had not yet left the Little Bohemia Lodge.

No time to alert anyone, no time to put up road blocks, they should strike this instant. Clegg gathered all the agents and revealed his three-pronged plan of attack. Purvis, Clegg, and four others would attack the front of the lodge. While five agents would go to the left and five would go to the right of the lodge to intercept anyone trying to escape.

No one covered the lake. It appears like neither Clegg nor Purvis realized the risk they were taking. The Feds had never been involved in such a large raid, they weren’t trained for massed gunfights, and their track record in regular gunfights wasn’t great either. But this was the fourth time they were sneaking up on Dillinger, they couldn’t let him get away this time.

Everyone got back in and on the cars and crept down Highway 51 with headlights off in the pitch black, moonless night. Oh. And it was still snowing. Meanwhile, Pat Reilly and Pat Cherrington decided to check in on the Lodge and drove up from the opposite direction. But the Gangster-hopeful lost his nerve again and parked the car.

Just a few more minutes. The G-men turned unto Nazdar Road and parked two cars in a V to block the Lodge’s only exit. The third car parked behind them. They had arrived undetected. Good. The agents did a final weapon’s check. CHAPTER 13: LIGHTS OUT It was around 10:00 PM, April 22, 1934. The Federal Agents fanned out and walked toward the brightly lit Little Bohemia Lodge.

The bulb over the resort’s front door cast a wide half circle of light “as brilliant there as at midday.” According to Purvis It was quiet. Then, the collies, Shadow and Prince, started howling. Purvis was shocked – Henry Voss never mentioned any dogs. This was bad! They only had two tactical advantages: three times the men Dillinger had, and the element of surprise.

Now they’d lost the element of surprise. The agents raced into position to return the inevitable gun fire. But nothing happened. Then on the porch, in the light a man appeared. Then another. And another. Then five total stood on the porch. Three got into a 1933 Chevrolet coupe parked at the Lodge. Two remained on the porch.

Uh oh… the Dillinger Gang? The car started and the radio blasted a swing tune. Purvis and Clegg ordered everyone to take up positions and shouted for the car to halt. The men in the car heard shouting, thought there was trouble, and figured they should haul ass out of there. The driver threw the car in reverse, turned its headlights off, backed out of the lot, turned to the left, and headed straight for the agents.

The Gangsters were trying to escape! Purvis and Clegg shouted orders to shoot the tires. The two men plus Carter Baum and Jay Newman, put fingers on the triggers of their guns. The car radio blared, the dogs barked, and someone shrieked: “Fire!” The four Feds fired on the car and ripped the Chevy to shreds with twenty-eight bullets, shattering the glass of the side window.

No one hit the tires. The two men on the porch screamed something, but their voices were drowned by the ratatat of the guns and they ducked inside for cover. Finally, the Chevy slammed to a stop. Its engine still running, radio blaring, and the dogs howling. The driver-side door swung open. A man jumped out and took off.

He disappeared into the trees beyond the cabins. Another man slipped out of the car and slumped to the ground The third man remained inside the car. The agents relaxed their trigger fingers. They got Dillinger, or at least some of his men, right? Then, gun fire unleashed from inside the Lodge, hundreds of bullets spat from the second floor windows.

The G-men returned fire with gusto. Suddenly, a burst of shots came from a cabin a few yards to the right of the lodge. Bullets struck the ground near Purvis’s right foot and the trees behind him. He turned to see a shadowy figure unleashing all the bullets. Purvis aimed his machine gun at the shadow. It jammed.

He dropped the Tommy gun and pulled the automatic pistol from his pocket. But the shadow was gone. Baby Face Nelson… Nelson had been in his cabin packing his bags. Now, he could have slipped out of the back and vanished into the woods, but this is Nelson were talking about here. Of course, he had raced out the front to join the shoot out.

It took a minute for the Agents in front of the building to realize their two flanks remained silent. CHAPTER 14: I’M JOHN Inspector Rorer, on the left side of the Lodge, saw muzzle flashes on the roof. He yelled halt at the shadow gunman but instantly drew fire from one of the Lodge’s windows. The figure slid down the roof at the back of the building and disappeared.

The Inspector ran to the back of the Lodge but stumbled into a deep drainage ditch… that had not been marked on Voss’s sketch. The agents on the right side of the lodge didn’t fire either, they were all tangled up in a barbed wire fence, also not marked on the sketch. Rorer scrambled out of the ditch but saw no one at the back of the building.

The man must have fled inside. The moment the shooting started, Emil Wanatka, opened the trapdoor in the bar room and ducked into the cellar. He was soon joined by his waiters… and three ladies, the Gangster’s molls, Helen, Marie, and Jean. Meanwhile, trigger-happy Baby Face Nelson fired a final burst at the agents, and then took off in the direction of the Lake.

The Chevy riddling, the Nelson ambush, Rorer’s drop in a ditch, the barbed wire entanglement, and the hundreds of bullets fired from the Lodge all happened at once and lasted a minute. Then the G-men realized the fusillade from within the lodge had stopped. So… is everyone dead now? Time to figure out who the man slumped by the Chevy was.

Purvis ordered one of his men to get one of the commandeered cars and shine the headlights on him. Agent K.R. McIntire called out. “We’re federal officers, identify yourself.” The man said: “I’m John.” Purvis yelled. “Hands up!” But the man didn’t seem to hear them. He’d been shot four times in the right shoulder, but he was also drunk as a skunk.

He ignored the orders and stumbled to the garage where he sat down, took a swig from a flask he pulled from his hip pocket, then staggered into the Lodge. The whole scene was so surreal that no one shot at him. Purvis considered tackling him, but then he’d venture into the circle of the porch light, making himself an easy target.

John entered the Lodge and picked up the phone. He was connected to Alvin Koerner, owner of the Spider Lake Resort a mile and a half south, who was the area’s telephone switch board operator. John mumbled.”I’m at Emil’s, somebody’s held up the place.” John collapsed. Outside, headlights lit Purvis’s back. A car came up the long driveway.

What in the fresh hell was this? The two Pats, Reilly and Cherrington finally decided to check the Lodge for the Gang, blissfully unaware of what was going down. Their radio was also blaring and they had heard nothing. CHAPTER 15: SCREAMING METAL Special Agent Purvis watched the car coming up the driveway toward the lodge.

Damn! Danger was everywhere! Several agents were on it and raced toward the vehicle and ordered the driver to get out. Reilly’s radio was so loud, he barely knew what was happening. But armed men running towards them… never a good thing. He slammed the gear in reverse and backed up full speed down the driveway to the highway and Feds fired away with their Thompsons and pistols.

But the music drowned out the gun fire, and Pat and Pat were simply confused. Reilly slowly drove off. What the hell was that? Still, Cherrington urged Reilly to return and let her out so she could snoop around. She’d barely made two steps outside the car, when she heard someone yell halt. She spat, “Halt Hell!” jumped back into the car, but didn’t close the car door.

She screamed at Reilly “Get the hell outta here.” The Gangster-in-Training shifted the car into reverse and… slammed into a tree, then wheeled around toward highway 51. His headlights briefly caught Purvis and Agent John Brennan running and firing. They hit the radiator and shattered a window, covering Cherrington in glass.

Reilly shoved two pistols into Cherrington’s lap and shouted for her to shoot, shoot! Then one of the tires blew and the car tilted, but Reilly’s driving skills kept the car from diving into a ditch. Cherrington reached for the handle to close the door, but she fell out on her butt and rolled on her shoulder, splintering it.

Reilly slammed the brakes, reached over, grabbed her good arm, and yanked her back inside. She was bleeding from where a bullet had creased her cheek. For a few seconds, the car was a standing target, then Reilly floored it, racing off on three wheels and one screaming metal rim. Pat Reilly, the young hopeful, had proven himself da man, remaining calm and adopting on the fly.

But they needed a new tire. Now. CHAPTER 16: CUT THE MUSIC The shoot-out at the Lodge had stopped, but the radio in the riddled Chevy was still blaring. No one could see the one remaining passenger well enough to make a move. Purvis and Clegg were sure they had the Gangsters surrounded, but they needed to regroup.

Purvis called for each agent to shout out their positions. Once everyone was accounted for, Melvin called out to the man in the running Chevy. No response. He aimed his pistol at the car, while Inspector Rorer crawled toward it. The Inspector reached into the Chevy and checked the unresponsive man’s pulse. There was none.

Rorer turned off the engine, which finally cut the loud music. He pulled the man’s wallet and discovered that this was Eugene Boisneau, a civilian, not a gangster. In fact, all three men were civilians. It’s what the men on the kitchen porch had been yelling before ducking back inside. The bartenders, George Bazso and Frank Traube had shouted: “Don’t shoot! They are customers of ours!” This was bad.

Really bad. 35-year-old Boisneau was an adviser at the CCC camp. The drunk who collapsed in the Lodge was 59-year-old CCC cook John Morris. The Chevy’s driver, the man who ran into the woods, was 28-year-old John Hoffman, an oil station attendant at Mercer, Wisconsin. He’d been shot in his arm. Hoffman staggered through the woods until his arm began to seize up.

An hour later, Lodge owner Walter Powell took the dazed man in. Though all Agents were shocked to learn that the dead man in the Chevy was a civilian, twenty-nine-year-old Carter Baum took the news the hardest. The married Baum, father of two, sat shell shocked in one of the federal cars holding the warm machine gun in his lap and muttered: “I suppose I have killed an innocent man.

I can never shoot this gun again.” However, since at least three other agents had fired on the Chevy, no one could know who killed Boisneau. At about 10:30 PM, Agent Purvis ordered Agent Newman to drive to the Voss’s Birchwood Lodge and call Agent Sam Hardy in Rhinelander. He should also fill in the local sheriff about the raid and ask for back up.

Newman, worried about Agent Baum, asked Purvis if he could take him along. Perhaps taking the Agent away from the scene would snap him out of his funk. Purvis agreed and Newman and Baum left for the Birchwood Lodge in Tuchalski’s Ford. CHAPTER 17: HITCHHIKER Nan’s brother, George LaPorte, sporting a rifle, stood guard outside his house where Emil Jr.

 was staying, when he heard the first shots. The firing didn’t let up. There be casualties. He and a friend, Carl Christenson, got in his Ford and rushed over to the nearby CCC camp to get medical aid. The camp doctor S.M. Roberts thought LaPorte was pulling his leg, but eventually agreed to take the CCC ambulance to the Lodge.

LaPorte and Christenson followed in the Ford. About a quarter mile from the lodge’s entrance, a tall, thin man stepped up to the road to flag the Ford down. A hitchhiker, at this hour? LaPorte didn’t stop. In Little Bohemia Lodge, Emil emerged from the cellar to help the collapsed John. He discovered the receiver dangling by the phone and found Agent Hardy in Rhinelander on the line trying to reach anyone over there.

Ok. So what do we do? Turn on all the lights and walk out with your hands up. Yeah, so when we come out, the Feds aren’t going to shoot us? Nah. It’ll be fine. That’s not a promise, chief, but alright. Wanatka returned to the cellar and told everyone to follow him out. But the three molls were like: nah, we’re good… and stayed.

At 11:00 PM, Melvin Purvis saw several men, hands raised, step out of the Lodge’s front door. All guns trained on Wanatka, Baszo, Traube and the wounded CCC cook John Morris. Not the John they were looking for. Everyone was searched. Wanatka told Purvis he believed the Gangsters were still upstairs. For some reason he neglected to mention that their molls were hiding in the basement.

Then, behind Purvis, more headlights came up the driveway. What now? It was the CCC ambulance and George LaPorte. George told Purvis… So…FYI, a tall, thin man tried to flag him down on Highway 51. Homer van Meter… maybe? Another car drove up. What now? It was John Hoffman in a borrowed car. He got out, his injured arm dangling at his side, and demanded to know why the hell had he and his friends been shot at? Uhm… sorry? He and John Morris got in the ambulance and were taken to the camp hospital in Mercer for treatment.

Wanatka and his two bartenders stood in the freezing cold dressed only in their shirtsleeves. Emil asked Purvis if someone could drive them to Koerner’s place to get warm coats. George LaPorte offered to give them a ride. The Feds decided to wait until light and then flush the Gangsters out with tear gas which was on its way.

Meanwhile, G-men Newman and Baum arrived at the Voss’s Birchwood Lodge. They called Agent Hardy in Rhinelander who told them that a blue-green 1928 Packard sedan had been reported stolen from the Northern Lights resort in Manitowish. Could it be that one of the Dillinger gang members escaped? An all-points bulletin was sent out for the vehicle.

The two agents raced over to the resort and found local constable Carl Christensen, this one with an e. The Constable joined them in Tuchalski’s car to look for the Packard. But it was long gone. The trio returned to the Voss’s Lodge. CHAPTER 18: BREAKDOWN After Baby Face Nelson ran south along the lake shore for about half a mile, he went inland.

But the city boy had no sense of direction, and spend 40 minutes wandering in circles. Finally, he saw a lit home through the trees and snuck towards it. It was a resort run by Mr and Mrs George Lange. Nelson simply barged into the house, gun in hand, and told the terrified elderly couple: “Now don’t get excited, I won’t harm you.

But this is a matter of life and death. Do what I tell you and everything will be all right.” Nelson, hoping to put them at ease, pocketed his gun, sat on their sofa, and gently petted the Lange’s barking dog. His cool, calm and collected act didn’t last long. When Mrs. Lange started crying, he growled. “Come on, shut up.

” He hustled the couple into their 1932 Chevrolet coupe. George had to drive and his wife was in back. They headed down Highway 51, toward the G-men’s headquarters at the Voss’s Birchwood Lodge. But about half a mile from the Voss’s place, the Chevy’s headlights died. Nelson noticed a well-lit house 100 yards to the left.

Who’s there? Lange said it was Alvin Koerner, who ran the telephone exchange. And yes, Koerner had a car. Nelson pulled over and shut off the Chevy. Koerner had been rattled by the disturbing phone call from Little Bohemia and was keeping an eye on the highway from his window. He saw a car without headlights park not far from his house.

That can’t be good. Koerner went to the switchboard and called the Birchwood Lodge. Agent Newman answered. So… there was a mysterious car parked outside his home. Very sus. Special Agents Newman and Baum, and Constable Christensen hopped in Tuchalski’s Ford to investigate. Newman was at the wheel, the Constable in the passenger seat with Baum sandwiched between them.

Just as Alvin hung up the phone, there was a knock on the door. Alvin opened it: oh, it’s just the Langes… then Nelson slipped in behind them and threatened him and his wife. Baby Face now had four hostages. And more were underway. CHAPTER 19: CHOKED Georg LaPorte turned his Ford into the Koerner’s driveway and stopped in front of the house.

LaPorte, Emil Wanatka, and bartenders George Baszo and Frank Traube, got out of the car, and ran through the bracing cold to the door. It opened before they could knock. Nelson… waving his automatic pistol at them. One of the bartenders said: “Hello, Jimmy.” Nelson said: “Never mind the bullshit, just line up against the wall with the rest of them.

” Wanatka grabbed Nelson’s gun hand: “Put that gun down Jimmy, those people are friends of mine.” Nelson jerked away and shoved him to join the seven people lined up in Koerner’s living room. He needed to beat town and would take LaPorte’s car and two hostages. Emil Wanatka who would do the driving and Alvin Koerner… just ’cause.

Mrs Koerner wailed to leave her husband alone, but Jimmy ignored her and told the two men to go outside. Koerner got into the backseat with…Carl Christenson, George’s friend who had accompanied LaPorte to the camp. He was still sitting there, just chillin’. So was LaPorte’s rifle at Carl’s feet. Nelson joined Wanatka in the front seat, and kept jabbing him with the gun.

Emil said:”Why put the gun in my ribs, Jimmy, I’m not armed. What are you afraid of?” Oh shut up, and just start the car. Wanatka stepped on the starter. Nothing happened. Nelson said: “You haven’t got the switch on.” Wanatka turned on the switch. Now the car choked, which infuriated an already agitated Nelson.

Then headlights came up the Koerner’s driveway. Who dis? CHAPTER 20: HIGH AND LOW It was a little after 11:00 PM, when Agents Newman, Baum and Constable Christensen approached the Koerner’s place and saw the parked Lange car on the side of the road. They stopped. The car was empty. Newman told Baum to write down the license plate number and then they went up Koerner’s driveway to get the 411.

Newman said. “Have your guns ready.” Christensen was like: hey, that’s George LaPorte’s Ford! And there were people inside. Newman pulled up to the right and rear of the Ford, lowered his window, and asked for Mr. Koerner. No answer. Christensen recalled: “We had not come to a complete stop when a man jumped out of the front seat of LaPorte’s car and pushed an automatic pistol through the open window of our car.

” He was wild, crazed. Nelson. He shouted “Who’s there?” The Agents, thinking the Gangsters were still pinned down, actually thought he was one of theirs. “We’re federal agents.” “Get out of the car!” As Newman opened the door and stepped on the running board, Nelson said: “I know who you are, a dirty goddamn bunch of cops.

I know you bastards are wearing bulletproof vests. So I’ll give it to you high and low.” Damn, son! Newman couldn’t reach for his gun, he leaned back in his seat, so Baum had a clearer shot at Nelson. Baum had vowed to never fire his machine gun again, but this man was no innocent man. This was Baby Face Nelson.

Baum did not raise his gun. He also leaned back, as if to hide behind Newman. He just… couldn’t. Newman reached for Nelson’s gun, then pushed his way out of the car. Baby Face opened fire. The first bullet glanced above Newman’s right eye, and he fell face first to the ground. He was semiconscious, but started crawling away.

Christensen jumped out from the passenger side, but Nelson gave a quick volley and the Constable went down in a ditch. Only Baum was left. Nelson aimed his gun at Baum’s neck but angled it downward. He knew what he was doing. The bullet went past the Agent’s steel vest and into his heart. Baum staggered out of the car, walked a few steps, dropped his machine gun, and fell over a white fence.

Nelson kept shooting, indiscriminately, in all directions. LaPorte’s friend, Carl Cristenson, ducked down in the back seat, as Wanatka drove George’s Ford into a snowbank. Emil slipped out of the the car, checked his legs and neck to make sure he wasn’t hit, and disappeared into the woods. Alvin Koerner sprinted into his house, while Christenson remained in the back seat frozen in fear, the hunting rifle still at his feet.

He suspected that Baby Face never even knew he was there. Nelson seemed to have lost his mind. He either reloaded or grabbed another gun and started shooting at everything that moved. He fired at a running Wanatka, then at the ditch in the direction of Constable Christensen, who already had seven bullets in him.

When Baby Face finally ran out of bullets and targets, it went silent. Jimmy got into Tuchalski’s precious Ford that Purvis had promised he’d return without a scratch, swung it around La Porte’s car, running over Baum’s Thompson, shattering its stock, and exited the driveway unto the highway. Constable Christensen reached out for Baum’s machine gun, dragged it over, and tried to shoot, but the weapon failed.

A semi-conscious Agent Newman fired at the Ford seven times. But missed. Still, one of his bullets tore into Constable Christensen’s leg. Newman thought Baum and the Constable were dead. Newman scrambled to his feet, drew his backup .38 on Carl Christenson still in LaPorte’s car, and ordered him out. Then the Agent limped to the Koerner’s kitchen door and banged on it.

But Alvin feared this was demonic Nelson playing tricks and refused to open it. By now, Newman caught on that Carl Christenson was one of the good guys and asked him to drive him to the Birchwood Lodge. They found the car keys that Wanatka had dropped in the snow and raced off. In the eerie silence that followed, Constable Christensen heard Agent Baum’s last raspy breath.

CHAPTER 21: BLINDED BY THE LIGHT Nan Wanatka heard the gun fire getting closer and was freaking out. She thought her place would be the bad men’s next stop, and they’d take her. She convinced her mother, her sister, and niece to escape into the woods with her.  When they got to the shore of Spider Lake, they heard shots from the Koerners place, turned, and ran through the dark woods until they found an abandoned shack and hid.

Nan finally had her nervous breakdown. She laughed, screamed, and cried hysterically. Mama LaPorte now freaked out and figured this just the kind of hideout the gangsters would look for. So the four women ducked out again and ran off deeper into the woods until they collapsed to the ground, exhausted. After some time, they heard Henry Voss call “It is all over with, come on back.

” Nan never quite recovered, always fearing a Dillinger associate would come and murder her and her family in revenge. Meanwhile, the shots from the Koerner’s could also be heard at the Little Bohemia Lodge. But the Agents had no idea who was doing the shooting or why. They just stared at the Lodge waiting for the teargas to arrive.

The midnight hour came and went, and the howling freezing wind picked up. Purvis had his Agents sneak toward the garage in front of the lodge and search it. They discovered two cars fully packed with machine guns and luggage. But were the Gangsters still inside the Lodge? Impossible to know, but Purvis was sure of it.

Then Emil Wanatka ran back onto the scene. Agents yelled at him to put up his hands, but he was too out of breath. Purvis didn’t recognize the Lodge’s owner and feared that this was some sort of trap. It had been one of those nights. Between gasps for air Emil said, “All your men are dead at Koerner’s.” Purvis hardly registered the information, and asked him to spell his name and address.

Emil was flabbergasted. Hell, he couldn’t spell Mano-towish Mana-towish, Manitowish Waters on his best day! Purvis sent agents to check Wanatka’s story, He but Emil didn’t want to wait. He got Director Clegg to sign off on his plan. He’d pile straw and blankets into the back of his pickup truck, so he could check on the dead and dying at the Koerner’s place.

Agent John Brennan and Inspector William Rorer volunteered to go with him to provide cover. Tuchalski’s Ford was long gone. The battery of the commandeered car that had been used to shine its headlights on the civilian Chevy died. And they couldn’t find the keys of the second commandeered car. So, Brennan and Rorer squeezed in Wanatka’s truck.

Down the road, Baby Face Nelson, flying down Highway 51 in Tuchalski’s hot rod, encountered Special Agent Werner Hanni in the car full of incoming St. Paul agents. Nelson blinded him with a custom spotlight, another Izzy add-on, then roared past. Hanni figured it was a local police officer. The Saint Paul agents also whizzed past the two Pats, Reilly and Cherrington.

The duo had bought a new tire at a gas station in Mercer, filled the tank, and went merrily on their way, heading north. Meanwhile, Wanatka, Brennan, and Rorer pulled into the Koerner’s driveway and the Agents were horrified to find Wanatka had been right. Agent Baum was dead. Constable Christensen was critical, and Agent Newman at the Birchwood Lodge was bleeding but stable.

Wanatka grabbed Baums’ 45 automatic and drove his body to the CCC camp, where Dr. H.A.A. Oldfield pronounced him dead. The survivors were taken to Grandview Hospital in Ironwood, MI. Christensen had 15 bullets in his sheepskin coat, and had been hit eight times in the arms, chest, and feet. A nurse said: That one’s a goner.

But he made it. It took a while. But Carl Christensen made it. It was almost dawn as Wanatka once more headed back to his Lodge where sometime after 4:00 AM, a crowd of self-appointed deputies had arrived with weapons and started shooting at the building. As if things weren’t confusing enough. Purvis and Clegg talked them out of storming the Lodge on their own and kind of marshalled them into service.

When Wanatka came up the driveway, the firing had not stopped. An 18-year-old boy aimed a shotgun at the lodge and said: “I’m going to get the award. I’m going to shoot Dillinger.” Wanatka yelled that the next one that put a bullet into his house would get hit over the head with his gun. Meanwhile, bad news kept coming.

While putting out an APB on Nelson, added on to the APB on the 1928 Packard, agent Sam Hardy was told that yet another car was reported stolen, a 1930 Model A Ford Coupe, Wisconsin plates 92652. The suspected culprit? John Dillinger. If that, the possible Homer van Meter sighting, a getaway in a stolen Packard, and the Baby Face Nelson massacre were true, then who was even left inside? When Werner Hanni and the St.

 Paul Agents pulled up at the Lodge, the Federal men prepared for the raid. If any Gangsters were still inside, more could die. CHAPTER 22: LIGHT ‘EM UP Assistant Director Hugh Clegg got his forces into position to raid the Little Bohemia Lodge. One angry Izzy Tuchalski joined in. He’d just found out that one Baby Face Nelson was now in possession of his hotrod.

At the break of dawn, 5 AM, Clegg ordered to fire the tear gas canisters. Two agents raced toward the Lodge, stopped, aimed the tear-gas gun at a window and fired. But the canister bounced off a screen and fell to the ground. Another shell was fired. Another failure to breach. But the cylinders on the floor deployed and the wind blew tear gas back at Purvis and the agents who stood with their guns trained on the Lodge’s exits.

Agent John McLaughlin volunteered to run to the door of the lodge and throw a canister inside. And so it was done. Yay! Success! Now that smoke started billowing inside, some random posse members opened fire. Clegg yelled at them to stop. They did. After the shooting ceased, Purvis heard a voice: “We will come out, if you stop shooting.

” Purvis yelled back. “Come out and bring everyone with you with your hands up!” The Agents hurried into position and covered the front door which opened slowly. Finally, a figure emerged from the smoke – a woman. Helen Gillis, Baby Face Nelson’s wife. Next Jean Delaney, Tommy Carroll’s girl, Then Marie Conforti, Homer van Meter’s girl, with one hand raised, the other cradling her bulldog, Rex.

That was all. No Dillinger, no Hamilton, no Van Meter, no Carroll. Could this be a trap? The ladies were arrested under assumed names. They were about to experience the G-men’s special brand of hospitality. After more tear gas and bullets, Purvis and five agents entered the Lodge to arrest the gangsters. They searched the first floor.

Clear! The agents dashed outside crying from the teargas and gulping for fresh air. Once recovered, they went back inside and searched the second floor. Clear! Then the cellar. Clear! The lodge was entirely gangster-free. Dillinger and crew were gone. Thus ended the Battle at Little Bohemia. Not with a bang but with a whimper… of Purvis standing at the water pump soaking his head, trying to wash the tear gas from his eyes.

Agents soon discovered that the Lodge wasn’t actually butted up against the lake. 30 yards to the back of the building, the terrain dropped steeply to narrow stretch of sandy beach. That’s how the Gangsters had escaped. Rewind. CHAPTER 23: DEAD END At around 10 PM, April 22, John Dillinger, John Hamilton, Homer van Meter, Tommy Carroll and their molls were in the Lodge’s bar playing cards waiting for Pat Reilly.

When the dogs started barking, they didn’t even look up. Shadow and Prince had barked at every leaf that moved for two days now. But then… gun fire! That’s new! Their reaction was instantaneous. Getaway mode activated, Dillinger, Hamilton, Van Meter, and Carroll dashed upstairs and took up their posts while Emil ducked into the cellar.

John killed the light and told the three ladies, “Better duck.” The girls snuck under the bed. Showtime. Moments later, machine guns poked out from the second story windows and Van Meter unleashed his weapon first. Then Dillinger, Hamilton, and a few seconds later, Carroll, on the roof, started shooting. They couldn’t see a thing beyond the Lodge’s porchlight, except muzzle flashes of people firing at them.

However, there was a noticable lack of attackers from the rear. And… they were outta there! Dillinger, Hamilton, and Van Meter climbed out of the second story back window, onto a back porch crept about 25 yards, and slid down the steep bank to the shores of Little Star Lake. Where Baby Face turned left, they turned right as they had previously discussed, and escaped along the shore while remaining hidden by the bank.

Obviously Nelson had not been paying attention when the Gang discussed escape plans. Meanwhile, Carroll slid off the roof and landed in a pile of snow. But by the time he got to running and hit the lake’s shore, the others were out of sight. The trio went inland, got to a road, and saw the ambulance and George LaPorte driving up.

Homer van Meter tried to flag them down, but no one stopped. The tall hitchhiker. After LaPorte passed, Dillinger and Hamilton appeared from behind the bushes. They needed to steal a car. Now. The trio ducked back into the treeline and pushed forward through the underbrush looking for any lit buildings. They quickly found a resort with a truck parked outside.

Bingo. Mr. and Mrs. Edward Mitchell, an elderly couple, were talking to their hired man, when they heard a knock on the door. John Hamilton asked Mr. Mitchell for a drink of water, then calmly walked across the room and, without saying a word, ripped the phone off the wall. The couple had heard gunshots in the distance and realized that trouble had now walked into their home.

Mitchell’s wife, on the sofa, asked: “You couldn’t be Dillinger, could you?” Johnnie replied “You couldn’t have guessed better.” Mitchell said: “My wife is just getting over the flu.” Dillinger picked up a blanket and tenderly draped it over her shoulders. He said: “Here you are, mother, we won’t hurt you.

You’ve probably heard stories about me, but I’m not as bad as I’m pictured.” Dillinger told her husband, a man about his father’s age: “Never mind old man. I’d never harm a hair on your head. We’re looking for a car.” Edward Mitchell would later say, “For an outlaw, Dillinger was a gentleman. He made the others behave.

No foul language and cool as a cucumber.” Mitchell said his Model T was on blocks in the garage, the truck outside belonged to his worker. Dillinger hustled everyone out, but the truck wouldn’t start. Just their luck. Johnnie looked around and spotted a 1930 Ford V4 Model A coupe, parked in front of a nearby cottage.

It belonged to a local carpenter Robert Johnson. Beggars can’t be choosers. The trio headed over. Van Meter shouted until the carpenter opened the door, groggy and wearing bedroom slippers. Mrs Mitchell needed a doctor. Hurry! Johnson ran to his car where the Gangster welcome-committee forced him drive over back country roads toward their final destination… St. Paul.

Johnson just caught a glimpse of his wife peering out of the window, but she shrugged and went back to bed. Her husband was apparently going out with his friends. The trio dropped Johnson off at the side of the road near Park Falls, WI, and continued on their way. A minute later, Tommy Carroll, trying to catch up with his fellow gang mates, appeared onto the highway near the Mitchells.

But they were already gone and he had to look for his own car. He walked all the way to Manitowish without seeing one. Finally, on the other edge of the village, at the Northern Lights resort, he saw a blue-green 1928 Packard sedan. Carroll was almost caught by its owner, Henry Kuhnert, but he made a clean getaway.

After a few miles, Tommy came to a fork in the road and chose… poorly. Instead of heading on to Mercer, he drove down a dead end lumber trail. He wouldn’t notice for hours. CHAPTER 24: DAZED AND CONFUSED Melvin Purvis and Hugh Clegg retreated to the Voss’s Birchwood Lodge, dazed and confused. It was time to let their boss J. Edgar Hoover in Washington, D.C.

 know what had happened. Throughout the night, Hoover had received updates about the actions at the Little Bohemia Lodge. He was now told the Dillinger Gang got away. Purvis blamed the barking collies, though they never alerted the gangsters. Hoover blamed the three drunken men for not heeding orders they never heard, and some say were never even shouted.

The net result of the operation was one federal agent and one citizen killed; one federal agent, one local police officer, and two citizens wounded; three molls in custody, but all the gangsters got away. However, the Gangsters weren’t home safe yet. Pat Reilly had his new tire, but his headlights died and the car got stuck in a mudhole.

His injured road-buddy, Pat Cherrington, talked her way into a room at a nearby farmhouse, while Reilly remained at the car waiting until morning for a tow truck. Tommy Carroll realized he was on a dead end lumber road, but slid the stolen Packard into a ditch some 15 miles from the Resort. He had to continue on foot.

Baby Face Nelson got Tuchalski’s precious Ford stuck in the mud only 12 miles away from the Koerner’s place, and also had to continue on foot. And Dillinger, Hamilton, and Van Meter, trucking along in their stolen Ford V-4, were seen by police as they were heading back into St. Paul. The officers gave chase.

At the end of all this, one of these Gangsters would be dead. Find out in the next episode, see you there.