Kitty Genovese: A True Account of a Public Murder and Its Private Consequences (30 page)

The woman concluded: “The men in this neighborhood should be ashamed of themselves. They could have saved Kitty’s life. If someone had thrown a milk bottle out the window it would have chased her killer. In fact, a milkman was delivering milk some time during the attack. He says he didn’t see the girl. I[’m] amazed he didn’t. Anyhow, he did nothing. There should be a law compelling a citizen to call police when they hear and see a violent disturbance.”

During the investigation of Kitty’s murder, the police had, in fact, questioned persons at the Mowbray about this earlier attack on a girl in the lobby (although it is unclear whether the incident had been reported to them back in February when it was said to have occurred). The elevator operator in question—who had not been the same man on
duty the night of Kitty’s murder—had given them his account of what happened in this prior attack. The reports indicate that a detective was assigned to pursue the matter further, although it cannot be determined from the Kitty Genovese case file what the outcome might have been, aside from the ultimate determination that Winston Moseley was not the perpetrator in that February attack at the Mowbray. The woman who gave the account to the
Journal-American
seems to have confused certain aspects of the February lobby attack and Kitty’s murder; there is no indication that the girl was terrorized in the lobby for half an hour, as the woman claimed.

The remainder of this
Journal-American
story focused on Kitty’s murder and included quotes from others who had witnessed some portion of her ordeal. Mowbray superintendent Edward Bieniewicz told what he and his wife, Anna, had seen and heard from the window of their third-floor apartment overlooking Austin Street: “My wife and I heard her screams the night Kitty was killed. They woke us up. I raced to the window, pulled up the venetian blinds so quick they fell down.

“The stabbing must have taken place at that moment. I saw a man run—I saw Kitty get off the ground. She staggered, but didn’t say anything then. I figured it was a lovers’ quarrel, that her man had knocked her down. So my wife and I went back to bed.

“It must have been an hour later when we heard all the commotion of the police and the ambulance. I’ve seen many cases of drunks and brawling in the neighborhood, especially when the taverns close. I thought it [was] just one more of those. Looking back, I can’t imagine why I felt that way. But I never thought a murder could happen so close to home. If I thought she was being killed, I’d have dived out the window to help her.

“Fear is the greatest thing in the world. If someone is waving a knife or a gun at you, and you aren’t permitted to have one because the law says it’s illegal, you could be a dead hero.”

Next quoted was a female tenant in the Mowbray who said: “Poor little Kitty! I’d see her almost every day. She was friendly, pretty, extremely intelligent. She told me she was a college graduate.

“Now I’ll have to live the rest of my life, thinking I might have saved her had I made a phone call to the police. It is not a nice thought.

“I heard the screams, and looked out, and saw a figure crouched on the street. But I thought someone coming from a tavern on Lefferts Blvd. was drunk, so I did nothing about it. Now I realize Kitty’s screams were different from the screams of rowdies we hear at night.

“The man who killed Kitty has been around here the past two years, off and on. A friend of mine, a woman about 50, was assaulted by him two years ago. She recognized his picture in the papers after his arrest.” The next line of the article stated that the police denied this.

Paula Rubenstein, who lived in a corner apartment on the first floor of the Mowbray, said: “We should blame ourselves for the tragedy. When the screams woke me, I opened the window, though it was very cold after the rain and snow. I heard running footsteps. I saw this girl with high heels and a black coat, walking across the street. I had no idea it was Kitty. She seemed to walk normally, except once when she seemed to stagger.

“I went back to bed with an easy mind, because I thought the girl was probably drunk. There’s an all-night luncheonette nearby. I thought she was going there and they would take care of her.”

The reporters then wrote, “It was the same story throughout the neighborhood.” They reprinted the quotes from other neighbors that they had collected last Friday.

The following day, Monday, the
Journal-American
printed a lengthy article by their own expert on human behavior, noted psychologist Dr. Joyce Brothers. Written in a straightforward and conversational style, Dr. Brothers’ article, “WHY CITY PEOPLE GO BLIND TO EVIL,” eschewed academic theories and instead gave some plain explanations for some of the fears city dwellers harbored when it came to reporting or otherwise involving themselves in the prevention of crime. Most notable of these was her recounting of the fate of Arnold Schuster, a young man gunned down on the street near his home in Brooklyn in March of 1952, presumably in retaliation for Schuster telling police the whereabouts of a notorious fugitive bank robber and escaped convict named Willie Sutton, whom Schuster had
spotted on a subway. Joyce Brothers wrote of the fear that lingered in Albert Schuster’s neighborhood, despite the passage of twelve years. “Schuster’s killer has never been caught,” she wrote. “Possibly the neighbors could have helped identify the gunman. But the neighbors had learned too much from Arnold’s death . . . Willie Sutton’s avenger, whoever he was, left a similar legacy to all New York. We are afraid of retribution, if we get involved. Afraid that the thief or rapist, hoodlum or murderer, may someday track us down and get even. We fear for our lives.”

The Arnold Schuster case would be invoked again in the flurry of stories on apathy that appeared in newspapers in the weeks ahead. Reporter Edward Weiland, writing an article on the Schuster case for the
Long Island Star-Journal
(one of a six-part series on “Public Apathy”), described District Attorney Frank O’Connor and Deputy Police Commissioner Walter Arm as becoming “visibly angry” at the mention of the Schuster case. Frank O’Connor said: “It’s unfair to hold up the Schuster killing as an example of what can happen if people get involved as a witness. I can’t recall one case of criminal retaliation in my nine years in office.” Deputy Commissioner Walter Arm agreed, relating a forgotten and ironic detail of the Schuster case: the police had kept Arnold Schuster’s identity a secret. Schuster had become angry, thinking the police were taking all the credit for the notorious bandit’s capture, and had revealed himself to the newspapers as the hero of the case. Thus it was only after Schuster had identified himself that he was murdered. Arm pointed this out as an important aspect that some people overlooked: a witness can remain anonymous until a case comes to trial.

Though not mentioned in this particular article, the police had in fact set up a special telephone tip line (Virginia 9-6040) at the 102nd precinct during the investigation of Kitty’s murder. The number had been published in the
Long Island Star-Journal
, inviting anyone with even a slim clue to call, stating that callers did not need to identify themselves and that all information would be kept strictly confidential.

In her
Journal-American
story, Joyce Brothers touched on other fear of involvement factors aside from the extreme example illustrated
by the Schuster case, citing a few real-life tales of no-good-deed-goes-unpunished. She also brought up other recent incidents of New Yorkers failing to respond in situations where one or more of their fellow citizens was in dire need of emergency assistance (a building fire in Harlem where none of the onlookers pulled an alarm, an elderly man beaten to death on a subway in Manhattan as bystanders looked away). Brothers had less interest in analyzing the reasons why people don’t help than she did in shining a spotlight on what she viewed as a common and widespread problem. Her article served much more as a call to action than an exercise in assigning blame. She did write, however, of the challenges inherent for those who lived in large cities to maintain human sensitivity and a sense of personal connection with others. “The rapidly shifting throng may come to seem nameless, or even faceless.” She concluded with a warning: “Recent events show that deaf-earism in New York City has reached proportions where it must be viewed as an illness. Terror will soon stalk all our streets unless the 98 percent of citizens who are law-abiding but paralytically passive come to grips with the following three facts of human existence.” She wrote of the need for principles and decency; the need to take chances in defense of these principles; and the fact that no positive action will ever meet with universal approval. She gave her final thought on the Schuster case. “We feel so sorry for Arnold Schuster. Perhaps a little less pity and a lot more admiration is called for.

“At Eastertime, and every time, we should remember with gratitude those who have given their lives for their ideals and principles. Isn’t that one of the things that Easter (and Passover as well) is all about?”

SIDNEY SPARROW HAD
spent the days before Easter meeting with his new client. He went to Kings County Hospital and spoke at length with Winston Moseley. After hearing all that he had to say, Sparrow felt even more convinced that his client was probably crazy—but very truthful. Well aware of the indictment against Alvin Mitchell for the murder of Barbara Kralik—and now gravely concerned—Sidney Sparrow spoke with the district attorney.

Frank O’Connor had already told the press that he was “skeptical about most of Moseley’s admissions, except in the case of Miss Genovese.” He had further said, “We are convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that Moseley is implicated in the killing of the Genovese girl. As far as Mrs. Johnson and the Kralik girl are concerned he has made no formal confessions but he has made statements that he is implicated in one or the other, or both.” Inspector Frederick Lussen insisted that the police already had the right man—Alvin Mitchell—in the Barbara Kralik homicide, calling the case against Mitchell “airtight.”

At least peripherally involved now in all three cases, Sidney Sparrow was not so sure.

On Monday, March 30, Assistant DA Phillip Chetta and John Furey, assistant medical examiner in Queens, traveled to Moncks Corner, South Carolina, where Annie Mae Johnson had been interred. Sidney Sparrow accompanied them.

The medical examiner in South Carolina had been contacted prior to their arrival, informed of the circumstances and the need for immediate action. He obliged, greeting his New York guests with his hand outstretched not for a cordial shake, but to show them a spent .22 caliber bullet he had extracted from the body of Annie Mae Johnson.

There were six in total. Six bullets from a .22 in the victim’s body. Four entrance wounds in the back, two in the abdomen.

The first autopsy on Annie Mae Johnson had indeed been flawed. The Queens ME had mistaken the small bullet holes for ice pick wounds. There could be no doubt of this, with the South Carolina coroner showing them both the X-rays and the spent bullets (also showing, in the opinion of the New York assistant district attorney, a bit of snarky one-upmanship). Professional rivalries aside, the overriding issue was clear: Winston Moseley had been right. And there could be little doubt of how he, and he alone, had known the truth.

It was difficult to say who was more shaken by the news—Phillip Chetta, or Assistant Medical Examiner John Furey. Both had very troubling news to report to their superiors. Chetta phoned Bernard Patten, who broke the news to Frank O’Connor.

O’Connor was not a man prone to losing his temper, but he made an exception now. He would move to dismiss the indictment against Alvin Mitchell, he said. And he had a few things to say to the police who had investigated the Kralik homicide. Bernard Patten urged him not to be hasty. The D.A.’s office had investigated the Kralik case as well. They would look into it even further now, of course, but the indictment against Mitchell had been based on more than just a confession. The case and evidence should be—would be—thoroughly reviewed again by both the District Attorney’s Office and the police. After that, if they were not convinced of Mitchell’s guilt, they could move for dismissal of the charges.

O’Connor agreed. He expected a
meticulous
re-examination of the case against Mitchell. If he had doubts, his office would not prosecute. O’Connor had in the past recommended that the grand jury throw out robbery cases where the evidence seemed shaky. He would certainly do the same in a murder case if he thought it appropriate. In the meantime, he needed to have a few words with the office of the New York medical examiner.

“SLUGS FOUND IN
BODY OF ‘STABBING’ VICTIM” read a headline in the
New York World-Telegram and Sun
on Tuesday, March 31. The article told of the statement by the Queens District Attorney’s Office that a second autopsy on Annie Mae Johnson had proved she had been shot rather than stabbed. DA Frank O’Connor was said to be “annoyed” over the original autopsy report. He had asked the city’s chief medical examiner, Milton Helpern, to come to his office for a conference. Helpern in the meantime had asked Assistant Medical Examiner John Furey to come to his office for a “review” of the case.

Milton Helpern was quoted as saying, “An autopsy is supposed to go all the way to the answers. We have X-ray equipment in New York. If they were in doubt they could have brought the body to Manhattan for closer study.” Dr. Helpern also announced a new policy: autopsies on all suspicious deaths in Queens and the other boroughs would henceforth be done in Manhattan under his direction.

O’Connor conceded that “the findings of the autopsy add credibility to all the statements made by Moseley.”

All of the various news articles on this latest development, including the one written by Martin Gansberg for the
New York Times
, also mentioned again that Moseley had confessed to the murder of Barbara Kralik.

chapter 14