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| "New York Age," July 10, 1937, via Newspapers.com |
That doyen of vintage true crime writers Edmund Pearson once dubbed wife-murderer Frederick Small “The Man Who Was Too Clever.” Small devised an elaborate and quite ingenious plot to rid himself of his spouse, only to be foiled in the end by an unexpected few inches of water. Pearson was of the opinion that a successful murderer was one who stuck to the direct approach, commenting that Small "had not fared as well as the stupid assassin who makes no plans and deals in no tricks, scientific or physical."
In general, Pearson was not wrong. However, there was at least one near-exception, when a man came up with a complex and unusual plan for getting away with murder. Thankfully, the evildoer paid for his crime in the end. But it was a damned close-run thing.
In 1937, Arthur and Phennie Perry lived in a small New York City apartment with their two-year-old daughter. The Perrys were a young couple: Arthur was 22, Phennie 20. They had been childhood sweethearts in their hometown of Jamestown, South Carolina. They were both children of poor sharecroppers--so poor that Arthur had to quit school in the fourth grade to go to work. After Arthur and Phennie married, they managed to get together enough money to move to New York, in the hope of bettering themselves. Although Arthur had no particular skills, he was a hard worker, and managed to get steady employment as a laborer for various contractors. The work didn’t pay much, but Arthur had high hopes it would eventually lead to better things.
On the morning of July 2, 1937, roofing contractor David Nutkis was working alone in his office in the Jamaica section of Queens. At 7:20 a.m., he was rudely interrupted by a stranger abruptly barging into the room.
“There’s a dead woman in the lots!” the man shouted, waving towards the nearby Long Island Railroad right-of-way. The messenger then dashed out again.
Nutkis went to investigate. About 100 yards from his building was an empty lot with a pathway that was commonly used as a shortcut to the railroad underpass. Along that pathway he found the corpse of a young woman. She was lying on her back, with her head in a pool of coagulated blood.
There was no doubt the woman was dead, so Nutkis was startled when he heard a cry. As he was mustering the courage to examine her more closely, he saw a small face rise up from the other side of the body. There was a toddler, very much alive but covered in blood, crawling towards the corpse. This new shock was too much for Nutkis’ frayed nerves. He fled back to his office to telephone for the police.
When police arrived at the scene, they found no shortage of clues to examine. A bloodstained piece of concrete--presumably the murder weapon--was found in some weeds fifty feet from the corpse. The woman’s dress had been torn. Near her right hand was a man’s black oxford shoe. A couple of feet away, they found a shopping bag containing baby clothes and a woman’s blouse. No purse was found. Detectives initially assumed that sometime during the night--the woman had obviously been dead for some hours--she had cut across the lot when she encountered a thief out to steal her purse. She put up a fight, during which her dress was torn. Her unexpected resistance so alarmed the criminal that in a panic, he picked up the piece of concrete and bludgeoned her to death. The thief then grabbed her purse and fled. However, there was one problem with this scenario: although the little girl was covered with her mother’s blood, the child was uninjured. Presumably, the mother had been carrying the girl when they were attacked. If the woman had fought back, how did the child avoid getting hurt?
For about an hour, the victim remained unidentified. Then, a woman passing by the grisly scene noticed the little girl. She screamed that the child was Shirley Perry. She also informed detectives that the dead woman was the child’s mother, Phennie Perry. She explained that the Perrys had been her neighbors, but they recently moved--she could not say where. This identification was soon confirmed by the dead woman’s brother-in-law, William Perry. William, who lived nearby, also took custody of little Shirley. Soon after this, two officers arrived, escorting a very hungover man.
The policemen explained that the man was the watchman in a nearby junkyard. They found him sleeping off his heavy drinking from the night before. When they awakened him, he immediately started shouting that he knew something had happened, but nobody would listen to him. He explained to the detectives that a little after 10 p.m. the previous night, he was walking past the lot on his way to his job at the junkyard. Suddenly, he heard moans and screams coming from the direction of the lot. The frightened man ran to the nearby Bull’s Head Tavern to phone the police. Unfortunately, by the time the squad car arrived, the man was very drunk. (He explained that he had been “feeling good,” but wasn’t intoxicated when he heard the screams. “Those quick drinks at the Bull’s Head after my scare were what got me.”) He explained that the two patrolmen immediately dismissed his story as the ravings of a “drunken bum,” and left.
When the body was turned over, the investigation went into overdrive. She had been lying on top of a bloody electric iron and a pile of papers. It was thought that during the struggle with her assailant, these papers had fallen out of the man’s pocket.
The papers made interesting reading. There was an envelope addressed to Mr. Ulysses Palm, at 110-08 153rd St., Jamaica. It contained a letter from his mother. There was another envelope addressed to Mr. Ulysses Palm. There was a postcard addressed to Mr. Ulysses Palm, signed by his niece. There was a note addressed to “Dear Member,” and signed “C.K. Athetan.” There was an electric bill with the name and address of Mr. Ulysses Palm. There were three photographs: one of a man standing in front of a car, one showing the same man standing in front of a boat, and a photo of a woman. There was a receipt book, apparently listing donations to some organization, signed “J. Walker.” Also found underneath the body was a bloodstained strip of blue cloth, obviously torn from something. After studying these items, the three detectives on the scene became one mind, with but one thought: It was time to have a chat with Mr. Ulysses Palm.
Palm turned out to live only half-a-mile from where Phennie Perry was murdered. When the police arrived, they were surprised to find two other detectives outside the residence. These two detectives, while trying to find where Mrs. Perry lived, discovered that she and her husband were renting a room from Mr. Ulysses Palm.
When the officers entered Palm’s first-floor apartment, they soon noticed a man’s black oxford was sitting off in a corner. There were several brown stains on it which seemed to be dried blood. It was a perfect match for the shoe found at the murder scene. In Palm’s bedroom, they found a blue shirt that was missing a piece of material near the pocket. The bloodstained strip of cloth fit exactly into the tear in the shirt. Other tenants in the building identified the man and woman in the photos left at the murder scene: they were Ulysses Palm and his wife of sixteen years, Hattie.
At this stage, the police must have thought that Mr. Palm was making things only too easy for them. However, when they began to examine Palm’s background, a bit of unease crept in. The 39-year-old Palm was a deacon of the Amity Baptist Church, who had the task of keeping the church accounts up-to-date. He was liked and respected by all who knew him. He and his wife were active in various church groups and committee meetings. His reputation was spotless, and his marriage was, to all appearances, one of perfect mutual devotion. Everyone the detectives talked to scoffed at the idea that Palm might have been involved with Phennie Perry, or any other woman besides his wife. He simply was not that sort of man.
That afternoon, Palm was found at his job at a department store, and he was brought in for questioning. When told he was suspected of Mrs. Perry’s murder, for a moment, he simply stared at them in shocked silence. Then he cried, “Why should I want to kill her?” Palm identified all the items found with the body, including the church receipt book. He had brought the book home with him the night before the murder. He professed to have no idea how the items wound up at the murder scene.
Perry was also found at his job. Police did not initially tell him his wife was dead; only that she was in the hospital, critically injured in an accident. As they were riding in the police car, Perry told the officers that he had last seen Phennie on the previous day, when she went with their child to spend the weekend with her sister in Brooklyn. As a test, one of the detectives suddenly asked him, “Why did you kill your wife?”
“Kill my wife?” Perry exclaimed. When the detective nodded, Perry slumped back in his seat and said slowly, “That means Phennie is dead.” There was silence for the rest of the trip.
At police headquarters, the first thing Perry was asked was, “Why should anybody want to kill your wife?”
“Palm threatened to kill her,” he replied.
Perry explained that back on June 20, a letter arrived addressed to his wife. Phennie was not at home, so he opened it. The note was signed “Ulysses Palm.” It warned Phennie that if she did not submit to his advances, he would kill her. Perry, assuming the letter was some sort of strange joke, resealed the note and gave it to Phennie without telling her he had read it. A week later, Phennie told him about the note, but she too thought it must be someone’s practical joke. Palm, she noted, never even spoke to her outside the usual polite greetings.
Perry had more--much more--to say. On the evening of the murder, Phennie was at the Plaza Theatre in Jamaica to play Bingo. On his way home from work, he stopped at the Plaza to speak with her. He wanted to confirm her plans for the weekend. She confirmed that after finishing her evening entertainment, she was heading off to her sister’s home. Perry went to his apartment, where he lounged around for two hours. Then he recalled that he wanted Phennie to tell her brother that he, Arthur, would come by on Sunday to go fishing. He returned to the Plaza, where the Bingo game was just wrapping up. When he saw Phennie, she told him that earlier in the day, Palm had tried to break into her room, but she scared him away by threatening to scream. She added that Palm had admitted writing the letter.
Perry said that when he confronted Palm about Phennie’s accusations, the deacon denied it all. The outraged husband packed a bag and went to spend the night at his sister’s home. As he was leaving, he saw that Palm was dressing as if he was going out as well. Perry said he left the apartment at exactly 9:53 p.m. The letter, Perry said, was at his sister’s place. When detectives retrieved it, they found that it read exactly as advertised.
Phennie’s sister told detectives that Mrs. Perry had told her about Palm’s letter. William Perry stated that on the night of the murder, he had run into his brother, who told him that he was on his way home to have it out with Palm. Perry’s sister and brother-in-law confirmed that after arriving at their home a little after 11 p.m., Arthur had spent that night with them.
Despite this onslaught of damning evidence, Palm continued to insist that he had not written the letter, and knew nothing of Mrs. Perry’s murder. However, he could not explain how his shirt got torn, or how papers and photographs of his came to rest under the murder victim. He admitted that the bloodstained shoes had once been his, but he claimed he had given them to Perry.
Palm stated that on the night of the murder, he had been at work in Flushing until 10:10 p.m. A trolley and bus brought him home at 11:15. He acknowledged having words with Perry, but he insisted the quarrel was right after he returned to his apartment. His wife was then attending a church play. He had a quick meal, worked on church books for a short time, and then went to bed. Some experimentation had convinced the detectives that 10:10 p.m. was the time when Phennie Perry was attacked. The manager and assistant manager of the store where Palm worked were questioned. They had both been present when Palm left on the murder night. They placed the time of his departure as 10:05. It would have been impossible for Palm to have reached the murder scene via trolley and bus, but an auto could have taken him there in 15 minutes. However, Palm pointed out that for the last few days, his car had been in a repair shop.
The store manager added as an aside that the establishment was usually closed up at night. However, on the night of the murder, he had to take midyear inventory, so that morning, when Palm came to the store, he was asked to work overtime.
The detectives took note of this remark. So, nobody knew Palm would still be at work, not at home, on the night Mrs. Perry was killed? Interesting.
The manager’s statement inspired police to bring Perry back for more questioning. Perry had stated he spoke to Palm at 9:53 p.m. How was this possible, considering Palm was at his store eight miles away at that time? Perry shrugged and said that perhaps his clock had been wrong. As for the black oxfords, he stated that he returned the shoes to Palm because they were too tight.
An usher at the Plaza Theatre said that on the night of July 1, he saw Perry twice inside the movie house, talking to a woman. When the Bingo game was over at 9:51, Perry, accompanied by a woman and a small child, left the Plaza. He could not see the woman’s face.
It was obvious to the police that Mrs. Perry was murdered either by her husband or her landlord. Both men had certain discrepancies in their stories, but they both stubbornly stuck to their initial narratives, and refused to admit guilt. Detectives had no choice but to put them both in custody.
There was a case to be made against each of the suspects. The direct evidence strongly implicated Palm, but the timeline appeared to provide him with a solid alibi. As for Perry, it could not be ignored that he was the last known person to see his wife. If they left the Plaza right after Bingo ended, they would have reached the murder scene at about the time the watchman heard the screams. Police learned that Phennie had written a letter to her mother complaining about Arthur spending all their money on himself, leaving her without the means to take proper care of their baby. There was another factor that pops up in so many murder cases: insurance. Perry had a small policy covering himself, Phennie, and the child. The policy lapsed after he failed to keep up the payments. The day before Phennie was murdered, a man appeared at the branch office of the insurance company and paid the back premiums on the policy. The clerk who was on duty at the time could not say who made the payment.
It was basic forensics that finally cracked the case. A scientist at the police department’s Technical Research Laboratory noticed that one of the black oxfords had a small hole in the sole. He asked to see the socks owned by both suspects. A tiny clump of dirt was in the middle of one of Perry’s socks. When a benzidine reagent blood test was done on the clump, it showed a faint trace of blood.
Perry and Palm were still wearing the same clothes they had on when they were taken into custody. A sleeve of Perry’s shirt was found to have another trace of blood. As for the letter Palm allegedly wrote Mrs. Perry, handwriting experts asserted that it was a clumsily disguised version of Arthur’s writing. Paper matching the one used for the letter was found in one of Perry’s drawers. An examination of the blue strip of cloth showed that it had been cut first for about half-an-inch, and then torn by hand, in order to simulate it being torn off during a fight. All this was enough to convince police which of their suspects was the true guilty party.
On September 23, 1937, Perry was indicted for first degree murder. His trial began on November 8. Unfortunately, a key witness--the junkyard watchman--was unable to testify. He was in the hospital, being treated for his acute alcoholism. The prosecution asserted that Perry killed his wife for the insurance money, a claim the defense countered by pointing out that no beneficiary was named in the policy, and that Perry had waived his rights to the money in favor of Phennie’s sister. The defense also made much of the fact that Palm usually kept the church book found with the body under lock and key. Perry himself took the stand. He gave the same story he had told from the beginning. He declared in the strongest terms that he was innocent of his wife’s murder. After two days of deliberation, the jury announced its verdict: guilty. Perry was sentenced to die in the electric chair. However, the Court of Appeals reversed the conviction on the grounds that the letter Phennie wrote to her mother was hearsay evidence which should not have been presented to the jury. A new trial was ordered.
Perry’s second trial opened on November 14, 1938. The now-sober watchman was finally able to give his testimony. The prosecution introduced a surprise witness: Perry’s employer, a man named Falke. Falke said that shortly before the murder, Perry borrowed money from him, saying he would use to to pay some insurance premiums. Also new was some rather dodgy testimony from a New York police detective, Sidney Cusbeth. He claimed that while Perry was in jail awaiting his first trial, the District Attorney had Cusbeth (posing as an accused murderer) planted in Perry’s cell block. Cusbeth said he befriended Perry in the hope of getting him to say something incriminating. One day while they were playing cards, Cusbeth brought up Phennie’s murder. After a bit of persuading, he said Perry admitted his guilt. When Cusbeth asked why he killed his wife, Perry replied, “I don’t know. I was in love with my wife, I don’t know why I did it.”
The D.A. did not offer an explanation for why they neglected to call Cusbeth to the stand during the first trial. The detective was not questioned further by either side.
The defense now conceded that the letter Palm allegedly sent Mrs. Perry was in the defendant’s handwriting, but that the letter in evidence was not the original. Rather, it was a copy the police had asked Perry to write out. This copy was then substituted for the real thing. Perry also denied that the bloodstained sock introduced in evidence was his. The defense suggested that the papers found under Phennie’s body had come from her purse. Perry claimed that on the night his wife was killed, she was carrying a large purse with $68 in it--the money intended for the trip to see her mother. Surely, she was killed by some robber, he argued--perhaps that never-identified stranger who had told David Nutkis about the body?
The defense arguments again failed to convince a jury. This second panel also returned a guilty verdict. This time, the Court of Appeals upheld the decision. Perry went to the electric chair in August 1939, asserting his innocence to the last.
Although I believe the two juries came to the correct verdict, there is one lingering mystery to the case: motive. The insurance policy was widely considered to be too small to make a convincing reason for murder. There is no evidence of any “other woman” in Perry’s life. Phennie's sister said that Arthur was "jealous" of his pretty young wife, and there is the intriguing fact that when Phennie went out with friends, she had taken to using her maiden name, introducing herself to people as "Miss Brown." Was she contemplating taking her child and going back to South Carolina...for good? It's also possible that Arthur Perry was simply weary of the responsibilities of being a husband and father--so weary, that he was willing to sacrifice the lives of two innocent people and deprive his young daughter of her mother. If it had not been for that accident of fate which kept Palm at his job until an unusually late hour, he may well have been the one to take a seat on Old Sparky.
Instead of becoming a murderer, Perry should have turned his hand to writing crime novels. He obviously had an innate talent for them.
