Ardullo, already renowned for his passing, showed his leg-stuff, accomplishing a pair of unimpeded Mercury imitations to the touchdown line, 70 and 82 yards respectively. The capacity crowd showed its appreciation with a standing ovation, and professional scouts, alerted to Ardullo's stellar performance all season, were reputed to be eyeing the husky junioK No one will be surprised when Butch is tapped on the shoulder for stardom, maybe even while still in his cap and gown. More important to assembled Pah Alto stalwarts and alums, a Rose Bowl place for the
Redskins is all but assured.
Decembers, 1929:
INJURY SIDELINES GRIDIRON STAR Red Schoen, Times sportswriter
A broken femur suffered during practice yesterday led to Stanford great Henry "Butch
" Ardullo being carried from the field on a stretcher.
Ardullo, the Pacific College League's high-scoring quarterback, had been expected to lead the Indians in their upcoming Rose Bowl game with USC. Doctors treating the injured junior have pronounced his football career over.
August 12,1946:
FARMERS GROUP SAYS IMMIGRANT LABOR
NECESSARY TO FEED STATE John M. D'Arcy, Times staff writer
A consortium of California fruit growers met with Deputy Agriculture Secretary
Clement W. Chase in Washington this week to request relaxation of immigration laws in order to permit increased numbers of "wetback " laborers from Mexico.
The Affiliated Agricultural Network claims that tighter immigration laws will raise labor costs to the point of "severe abuse of the domestic consumer," according to
AANpresident Henry Ardullo, a peach and walnut grower from Treadway, California.
" These people," said Ardullo, "can come up here and earn ten times what they can down in Mexico and still give us excellent labor value. They do jobs no one else wants, so American workers don 'tget hurt. Meanwhile, Mrs. Housewife gets to go to
the grocery store and stock up on the finest, most nutritious produce ever grown on this planet at a price that makes healthful eating the only logical choice."
Anti-immigration groups oppose the variance. Secretary Chase said he will consider the petition and issue a ruling.
January 14,1966:
RESIST LAND BOOM LURE, SAYS GROWER Stephen Bannister, Times business writer
Farmers need to resist the temptation to sell their land at high marketprices, says a prominent Kern County fruit grower, because the future of the family farm is at stake.
"Quick profits pose a difficult temptation, and Lord knows farming can be difficult, what with all the government restrictions," said Henry Ardullo, a walnut and peach farmer from Treadway, California, and past president of the Affiliated Agricultural
Network, a group representing the interests of independent growers. "But the farm is the soul of California. This state is America's breadbasket, and if we cut off the hand that feeds us in the name of easy money, what are we leaving to our children?
Golf courses and country clubs are pretty, but try feeding your family with turf grass."
Ardullo's comments were made at a GOP fund-raiser at the Fairmont Hotel in San
Francisco, where he shared the dais with State Senators William Greben and Rudy
Torres, and real estate developer Sheridan Krafft.
March 5,1975:
OBITUARIES
HENRY ARDULLO, COLLEGE GRIDIRON STAR AND AGRICULTURAL EXEC
Henry "Butch " Ardullo died at his ranch in Treadway, California, this past
Wednesday. Renowned as a quarterback at Stanford University, where he broke several records for running and passing, Ardullo received a B.A. in business in 1930. He had been widely expected to enter professional football until an injury ended his athletic career.
Upon graduation, he joined the family enterprise, a large walnut and peach plantation begun by his father, Joseph (Giuseppe) Ardullo, an immigrant from Naples who came to California in 1883, found work as a fruit vendor in San Francisco and invested his profits in real estate in and around the Kern County community of
Treadway, where he planted hundreds of fruit trees from stock acquired in England,
Italy and Portugal.
Upon Joseph Ardullo s death in 1941, Henry Ardullo took over the business, Ardullo
AA Fruit, which he renamed and incorporated as BestBuy Produce, and continued to purchase land, amassing large private real estate holdings in the lower central valley region. Elected as president of Affiliated Agricultural Network, a post World
War II consortium of independent growers, in 1946, Ardullo represented grower interests in Washington, including a successful petition for relaxation of immigration laws to allow increased numbers of farm laborers into California. He was a member ofKiwanis, the Treadway Chamber of Commerce, and the Farm League and a contributor to the Republican party; he served as central valley chairman of United
Way from 1953 to 1956.
He married Stanford classmate KatherineAnn Steth-son, daughter of a Palo Alto department store owner, in 1933. She died in 1969. A son, Henry Ardullo, Jr., died in a mountain climbing accident in Nepal, in 1960. The senior Ardullo is survived by his other son, Scott Stethson Ardullo ofTreadway, vice president ofBestBuy Produce.
The farm is the soul of California.
It had taken the rampage of a madman to bring Henry Ardullo's nightmare home.
A family obliterated. An entire town wiped off the map. Once sentimentality had been taken care of, high real estate values had done the rest.
Sad, but I couldn't see any connection to Claire or the demons hissing in Ardis
Peake's head.
Could she have had a family connection to the Ardullos? Her parents hadn't mentioned it. There seemed no reason for them to conceal history. Still, people often hid their reasons. I found a pay phone just outside the reading room, phoned the Flight
Inn, and asked for the Argents' room. Rob Ray's familiar rumble said, "Yes?"
"Mr. Argent? Dr. Delaware."
"Oh. Hello."
"Sorry to bother you again, sir, but I had one more question."
"Lucky you caught us," he said. "We're on our way out the door and back home." *
"I'll be quick, Mr. Argent. Do you have any relatives in California? Specifically, in the farming business?"
"Farming? Nope."
"Does the name Ardullo mean anything to you?"
"No again. I thought you might be calling about some progress-what's this all about?"
"The Ardullos were a family Claire showed some interest in-she'd read up on them, held on to some newspaper clippings."
" Were a family?" he said. "Something happened to them?"
"Unfortunately, they were murdered. Fifteen years ago, and Claire seemed to be interested in the case."
"Murdered. The whole family?" He nearly choked on the last two words. "So what- I don't mean, so what they were murdered. So what about Claire? No, I don't know them, never did. It was probably just something... professional. Doing her work. Have to go, good-bye."
"Have a good flight," I said.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "It's going to be a great flight-at least I'm getting out of your lousy city."
His anger rang in my head and I hung up feeling foolish and intrusive. What had I hoped to accomplish? What did big money and land deals have to do with Claire's murder? Now that I was thinking straight, I realized there was a simple explanation for the clippings: knowing she was transferring to Starkweather, Claire had plugged the hospital's name into some data banks, come across the description of Peake's bloody night. Once she got there, she looked him up, found him near vegetative. A challenge.
So many madmen, so little time.
After all those years in the lab, she was hungry for clinical raw meat-for a firsthand look at astounding criminal madness. Maybe she'd even intended to write
Peake up, if she made some kind of progress.
She'd entered the world of madness, but-Milo's enthusiasm for Wendell Pelley aside-I
wondered if that had anything to do with her death. Right at the beginning, my gut had told me someone organized-twisted but sane-had cut her throat, stashed her in the car trunk, made off with the bit of cash in the as yet undiscovered purse. Left no clues.
Maybe the same person who'd bisected Richard Dada, maybe not. Any similarities between the two cases could be explained by abnormal psychology: psychopaths weren't that original. Confront enough evil and you smell the same garbage over and over.
No voices in the head here. Maybe Pelley was now sane enough to pull it off, maybe not. In any case, I couldn't help thinking we were up against something coldhearted, orchestrated.
Murder for fun. A production.
There was nothing more I could do, so I drove home, spent some time outdoors, weeding, pruning, feeding the fish, netting leaves out of the pond.
Just before five, my service patched Heidi Ott through.
"Doctor?" She sounded buoyant. "I can't believe it, but Peake's talking again, and this time Swig can't accuse me of being hysterical. I got it on tape!"
19.
"Tuh."
"What's that, Ardis?"
Tape buzz. I clocked it. Twenty-two seconds-
"What did you say, Ardis... ? You just said something... because you want to talk to me, right, Ardis... ?" Thirty-two seconds.
"Ardis? Could you open your eyes... please? " A minute. Ninety seconds, a hundred
... Heidi Ott held up her finger, signaling us to be patient.
It was just before midnight, but her eyes were bright. She and Milo and I were in an interrogation room at the station- a hot, Lysol-smelling yellow closet barely large enough for the three of us. Heidi's hair was tied back and styled with a shark clip.
She'd come straight from Starkweather and the clip of her I.D. badge protruded from a breast pocket. The recorder was a tiny black Sony.
"Just a bit more," she said, tapping her fingers on the steel table.
Her voice on the tape said, "Okay, Ardis. Maybe tomorrow."
Thirty-three seconds. Footsteps.
"Tuh."
"Tuh, Ardis? Two? Two what? "
Twenty-eight seconds.
"Ardis? "
"Tuhguh."
"Togo?"
"Tuh guh choo choo bang bang."
"Togo choo choo bang bang? Whatdoes that mean, Ardis? "
Fifteen seconds.
"Choo choo bang bang, Ardis? Is that some sort of game? "
Eighteen seconds.
"Ardis? What's choo choo bang bang? "
Thirty seconds, forty, fifty.
" What does it mean, Ardis? "
Eighty-three seconds. Click.
She said, "At that point, he turned away from me, wouldn't open his eyes. I waited awhile longer, but I knew it was all I was going to get out of him."
" 'Choo choo bang bang,' " said Milo.
She colored. "I know. It's pretty stupid, isn't it? I guess I shouldn't have gotten so jazzed. But at least it's something, right? He's talking to me. Maybe he'll keep talking."
"Where'd you keep the recorder?" I said.
"In my pocket." She pointed to the navy photographer's vest she'd draped over her chair. "I tried yesterday, too, but nothing happened."
" 'Choo choo bang bang,' " said Milo. " 'Bad eyes in a box.'"
"I've been trying to figure out some connection," said Heidi. Suddenly, she looked very tired. "Probably wasting your time. Sorry."
"No, no," said Milo. "I appreciate your help. I'd like to keep the tape."
"Sure." She popped it out of the machine, gave it to him, placed the recorder back in the vest pocket, collected her purse, and stood.
Milo held out a hand and they shook. "Thanks," he said. "Really. Any information is helpful."
She shrugged. "I guess.... Want me to keep taping?"
"I don't want you to do anything that violates regulations."
"Never heard of any regulation against taping."
"It's generally illegal to tape anyone without their knowledge, Heidi. Jail prisoners lose the presumption of privacy, but whether or not that applies to the men at Starkweather, I don't know."
"Okay," she said. "So I won't do it anymore." Shrugging, she moved toward the door.
