Star Tribune from Minneapolis, Minnesota • Page 65

An I CM A onu. uiwcoffcjaudOMce 5 A jm-yjun mm the Man Who ind Brains qutiful conuutted by "Wild Tw. Pkfn. Rl. eontUted.

Belle GUmort, vVll OST Two Photos of Belle convicted. Belle Gilmore, Gilmore, Once Loreljr however, turned about tn Bill" Donor cn, prosecutor, di Carlo and hit gang were her tettimony and wot indicted for perjury. She wot finally released, however, on tome technicality. Underworld Queen. She I Rereeled Abore in Her Prime, and Below, After of Addiction.

UA big tedan, hurtling along at fifty or tixty, She got a job as a waitress in the same restaurant to which she had lured her lover, apparently intending to "go careened around the corner with lead spout' ing from its sides. The stone wall at my back flicked off dust as the bullets rained against it." evidence against a class oi criminals which is usually as slippery and wily as it is straight." One day Dopey Joe paid her a call. whipped out a revolver and shot at her twice. One bullet took effect, wounding her slightly. Dopey Joe then rushed from the place and ran five or six Jk blocks into the heart of the tender loin district in which he had been raised.

There he swallowed two bichloride of mercury taoiets and died within a few minutes. Thus ended the Patitucci case, the di Carlo case and the Belle Gilmore case for Belle dropped out of sight after that. On this page are reproduced two photos of her; one taken when she was in her prime, and one after drugs had completely destroyed her beauty and diabolic charm. Belle stood up under the deadly needle i $15,000 WORTH Pert of a Big Haul of Contraband Narcotics. Photographed Just as It Was Seized in the Raid described in This Chapter.

Note Revolvers, Possession of Which Is a Serious Offense in New York State. nderworld power who had more strength than opey Joe. That was Joe di Carlo. It became depraved. But I did not realize for several years that there were many people who had gradually reached the conclusion I actually did take dope and these were neither peddlers nor gangsters, but persons of good standing with whom I had come in contact; even some of my former associates.

This may be a tribute to my ability as an actor, but it is not a very pleasant rumor to have in circulation after a man has retired from the life of an apent and has two baby girls to rear. Not long ago a famous editor and short-story writer, who knows me as well as anyone, was a member of a gathering at which my name came up. "Murphy? Oh, he's been taking drugs for years himself. Didn't you know that?" The editor didn't know it, and wat willing to ritk $1,000 that it wasn't true. The wager was taken up.

I was sent to a reputable physician at the suggestion of the man who made the charge against me and was given a thorough examination. This included observation of my heart action, my skin, my lungs, my kidneys and every organ which might betray addiction. The symptom when present are unmistakable. The certificate which resulted is reproduced on this page. My friend is now to the good, and I have what Shakespeare says is more precious, my good name.

It's a strange thing how a man can play a role for a number of years on the stage or in the underworld, as I played it and the public will come to attribute to him all the makeup of his part. Finally, nothing short of absolute proof can still the conviction in the popular mind. I think it is time that the "props" of my former activities were permanently buried. While I was in the service I should have been only too glad to have people believe me an addict; many convictions resulted from just that misapprehension. But the necessity for the ruse is past.

His Flair for Addict Disguise Fools Chinese Peddler I remember one instance in which playing the fart of an addict stood me in good stead. A etter came to headquarters which not only described in detail a house in which drugs were sold, but contained a carefully drawn diagram of the whole building. The sender must have "had it in" for that particular peddler in good earnest. We could not spare men for an immediate raid, so I volunteered to see whether I couldn't manage the thing alone. I went to the address mentioned and knocked on the door.

An emaciated Chinese, whose name, the letter had revealed, was Wu, answered my summons. I assumed the typical symptoms of addiction, nervous gestures, heavy-lidded eyes and incoherent talk. The Oriental regarded me suspiciously for a moment and then, apparently convinced, admitted me. On the way upstairs to the "smoking room" he told me in broken English that he was expecting callers from the narcotic squad soon and therefore had been forced to raise, the price of drugs. An enemy, he declared, had tipped off the "bulls" but none of them could fool him.

He had a button arrangement whereby he could inform his helpers above of a raiding party and see to it, thereby, that all drugs were destroyed or safely hidden before the agents couid reach the main den. This den was unusually well fitted out. It was almost sanitary, an extremely rare thing with such places there were a half dozen imitation Oriental rugs on the floor and rather dusty looking hangings on the walls. It was early. Only a few addicts occupied the couches by the wall.

Sometimes He Is Afraid He Was Too Artistic I drew my guns as soon as I saw that I had' reached the room in which the evidence was stored. The Chinese, amazed, accompanied me to the police station with his two fellow-dealers and an array of narcotics that would have sold for some $15,000. The peddlers in this case were convinced that 1 was an addict. Showing my badge and gun-even locking them up probably failed to remove all suspicion from their minds. Time after time men whom I'd arrested would eye me speculatively when their trials were over and demand "On the level, Two-Gun, aren't you takin' stuff now and then?" They never liked lo believe they had been completely It was bad enough that I should turn out to be an officer, but to find I wasn't one of them on top of that was too much.

I used to spend hours before a mirror going through the characteristic facial and bodily contortions of the drug user. It seems that I had some talent for mimicry. Many a convicted peddler believed I had missed my Perhaps this bit of the mime in me accounted for the fact that I got on so well with stage folk. Everywhere I went some of them became my friends. Nowadays, however, I'm beginning to wonder whether my art mayn't have succeeded too In Philadelphia and Cincinnati, when the police picked us up as suspected dope fiends, my brother agents protested "We'll never prove we aren't junkers with Murphy along," and pro-: ceeded to kid me laughingly until we were re-J leased.

I have no doubt that the desk sergeant in both cases was still a little skeptical when he; let us go. Next week I shall bring to your attention the social ravages wrought by narcotics in the heart of gay, grim Greenwich Village, New York and incidentally give an interesting account at secondhand of the startling effects of hasheesh.1 (To Be Continued) nown that Dopey Joe and Joe di Carlo had )oled their forces and that if something were done to squelch this combine the war on dope ould be lost by the authorities. Dopey Joe and Belle Gilmore were "picked in, their haunts by police and placed under a trrage of questioning. Patitucci broke down lexpectedly and confessed, and his sweetheart illowed suit They agreed to help the Govern-ant in its crusade against the di Carlo organiza-n. Accounts differ as to what happened then, it I have very accurate information that Belle 'u approached by gangsters and induced to against Dopey Joe.

It was arranged that 3 should lure him to a notorious "Black Hand" longer than most. In other chapters I have hinted at the thoroughness with which drugs break down physical attractiveness, particularly in women. There was one woman, however, who managed, strangely, to retain her beauty to the end. I refer to Olive Thomas, the movie star, who died in Paris while I was still on the other side of the Atlantic, helping the French police in their crusade against all sorts of post-war crime. A few days before she died I saw her in a cafe.

She radiated a positive glow of youth and health, although I knew that she had been taking drugs for some time. I marvelled at her stamina and wished that I might do something to help her throw off the curse before the drug needle destroyed that luminous shell of beauty. Not long afterward her tragic death occurred. I had met Olive Thomas several times and talked to her, and if it had not been that I knew several peddlers who were selling her narcotics I'd never have guessed her secret. She was the only person I have ever known who was able to take drugs over a considerable period without revealing traces of the habit in face, eyes and mannerisms.

She started the habit at an early age, and it brought her destruction while she was still in her twenties. Which brings me to a matter that I have decided to take up because of developments since I began to write this series. Of course I have always known that various people suspected me of being addicted to drugs. Most of these entertained, the suspicion because I had planted it in their minds with a purpose. I have made "buys" from peddlers who knew I was a Government agent, on the plea that I was making obeisance to the dream gods behind the door and would overlook their doings if they'd pass me a "deck" or two now and then.

One has to use all sorts of subterfuge and duplicity to get ighetti restaurant and the rival "mob" would the rest. Dopey Joe accompanied Belle to the restau-lt, and at a pre-arranged signal she suggested leave and visit another underworld haunt. soon as they left a covered roadster contain-; four gunmen swerved to the curb. Belle in one direction and Patitucci in another, uting for help at the top of his lungs. I The gunmen opened fire.

Three bullets ped through Dopey Joe's clothing, another ned his cheek. But he was not injured be-id that. Later, al the trial following a round-up of and other underworld which teas i 'V.