Public Enemies (66 page)

It was a sweltering night, the temperature in the low nineties; Chicago was in the midst of a record-setting heat wave. Out at the lake beaches, hundreds of people were still thronged, trying to catch a breeze. On the stoops and corners of the North Side, mothers fanned themselves with newspapers and children begged for ice cream. At about nine-thirty, as the four men sat in their cars waiting, Ana Sage appeared on the sidewalk beside them. She walked past, surveying the situation. After a minute she returned and got into Purvis’s car. They drove east, toward the lake, eventually pulling up in a secluded spot overlooking the water. Cowley remained in O’Neil’s car behind them.

Sage demanded Purvis show proof he was an FBI agent. Purvis took out his badge. Satisfied, Sage said she was prepared to tell everything she knew. She wanted only one thing: to stay in America. She asked if the FBI could make her deportation proceedings go away. Purvis said he had limited authority in such matters, but promised that if Sage helped apprehend Dillinger, he would do everything he could to help her.

It was enough for Sage. The following week she repeated the story she told Purvis for an FBI stenographer. At the very least she dissembled; she said only that Dillinger visited her apartment to see Hamilton, denying he actually lived there. “He did stay at my house while Polly was ill as a result of an automobile wreck about two weeks, and then only stayed there till about daylight, five or six o’clock in the morning,” Sage said in her statement.
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According to Sage, who would always deny arranging to hide Dillinger, she first met him when Polly Hamilton brought him to her apartment in June, introducing him as Jimmy Lawrence.
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“He kept his head down but I looked at him and got a glimpse of his profile and immediately recognized him as Dillinger,” Sage said. “I told him immediately that his name might be Jimmy Lawrence, but he was John Dillinger. I made the remark in front of Polly and I called Polly out in the bathroom and told her that her boyfriend was John Dillinger. I told Polly that I was going to make that man, meaning Jimmy Lawrence, admit that he was Dillinger or he could leave.”

This account is unlikely on its face, and it contradicts everything Polly Hamilton later said about her unknowing courtship with Dillinger; in all likelihood both Sage and Hamilton were lying. In any event, Sage said she then returned to her living room and confronted Dillinger again. Again, she said, he denied he was Dillinger.

“I told him to wait a minute,” Sage went on, “and I went out in the other room and got several pictures which appeared in the newspapers and showed them to him and told him then that if he was John Dillinger he would have a gun on him and if he had no gun he was not Dillinger. He did have a gun in his pocket.”

According to Sage, the matter was left unresolved. It was not until the next night, she claimed, that Dillinger admitted to Hamilton who he really was. As Sage told it, Hamilton didn’t care if he was Dillinger or not; she loved him. Sage didn’t. She told Purvis she began thinking of ways to alert the police. If so, it took her several weeks to summon the courage. From all available evidence, it was not until July 13 or 14 that she made an effort to betray Dillinger. What Sage didn’t tell Purvis was that on July 12 she had received a letter from the U.S. immigration service. In it she was informed that her appeals to remain in America had been denied. A warrant was issued for her deportation. Almost certainly it was this letter that spurred Sage’s betrayal.
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At first, Sage said, she was unsure how to proceed. Initially she was inclined to approach her immigration attorney. She said she arranged a meeting, then backed out, unsure whether she could trust him. It was then, she claimed, she thought of Martin Zarkovich. “I called Martin Zarkovich and talked to him in a casual conversation and told him I wanted to talk to him sometime about something,” Sage said. Zarkovich promised to telephone on Sunday, July 15, the day Dillinger watched Sage’s son playing softball.

According to Sage, and this too contradicts Polly Hamilton’s statements, she kept Hamilton informed of her talks with Zarkovich. “I told Polly that Martin was coming to see me and Polly said not to tell John,” Sage said. “[She said] to tell Martin anything to keep him from coming to the house, and to meet him somewhere else.”

In any event, it didn’t matter; according to Sage, Zarkovich didn’t call that Sunday. Two nights later, on Tuesday, July 17, the evening he told Art O’Leary to take a vacation, Dillinger left Chicago. According to Sage, Dillinger said he was driving to Wisconsin on business and would return in two or three days. The next morning, Wednesday, July 18, Sage again telephoned Zarkovich. He said he would visit her apartment the next day, Thursday, and did, arriving at 3:00. According to Sage’s account, it was only then that she explained that Hamilton was dating Dillinger, who was scheduled to return the next day. “I told him that I would call him on Saturday and let him know definitely if John Dillinger had returned to Chicago and if he hadn’t, if Polly had heard from him and knew where he was located,” Sage said.

Friday morning Dillinger returned from his trip. In all likelihood he had been off with Van Meter, studying details of his train robbery; that same day, in fact, the two outlaws swung by Jimmy Murray’s Rain-Bo Inn, where they found Fatso Negri and told him to arrange a meeting with Nelson the next night. According to Sage, Dillinger spent the rest of the day playing cards with Hamilton. The next morning, Saturday, he went with Hamilton, Steve Chiolek, and two girls to the beach. The moment he left, Sage said, she telephoned Zarkovich and gave him the go-ahead to bring in the FBI.

Sitting in Purvis’s car, Ana Sage said she expected to attend a movie the following evening with Dillinger and Hamilton. They would probably go to the Marbro Theatre, on West Madison Street. As soon as she knew for certain, Sage said, she would telephone the FBI; Purvis gave her his private number, Andover 2330. Sage said she would wear an orange dress to help the agents spot her on the street.

It took only a few days for the FBI to poke substantial holes in Ana Sage’s story. If Purvis, sitting in the car beside the lake, had any doubts, he kept them to himself. All he wanted was Dillinger, and Ana Sage was handing him to them on a plate.

The night Ana Sage cut her deal with Purvis, Dillinger drove out to the northwest suburbs to discuss the train robbery with Nelson; if he really was planning to exclude Nelson, he hadn’t told him. Nelson was enthusiastic about the job, and would remain so the rest of his life. As before, only Fatso Negri would ever give details of the meeting, and those were scant. Negri said he arrived late to find Nelson, Dillinger, and Jimmy Murray waiting impatiently for Van Meter. Nelson was cursing. At one point, as they stood waiting for Van Meter, it was mentioned that Negri wanted to return to California.

Nelson said it was fine with him. But Dillinger objected. “He knows too much,” Dillinger said, smiling as he turned to Negri. “Why not stay here and play ball? We’ll make a lot of money. Then you can go home and go about your business, and no one will find you. You’ll have some real dough in your pockets. I heard Johnny say your folks are poor. You can smother them in money when we’re finished. You can do that, can’t you, Fats?”

“Sure,” Negri said, “I can stay.”

When another hour passed with no sign of Van Meter, they decided to call it a night. As they left, Nelson’s last words to Dillinger were a suggestion that he find Van Meter and “kick his skinny ass.” They agreed to meet again two nights later, on Monday.
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It was another steamy summer day. By late morning the temperature had reached the nineties and was inching toward one hundred degrees. Cowley and Purvis arrived on the nineteenth floor early. They telephoned most of the squad, telling them to stay in touch; something might break. After a bit the East Chicago cops, Zarkovich and O’Neil, showed up, along with two of their colleagues. Cowley and O’Neil went over their plans for the evening. O’Neil repeatedly told Cowley he didn’t think they had enough men to capture Dillinger; Cowley was planning a group of about fifteen. “Captain O’Neal [
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] was all for calling in the Chicago police,” an aide wrote Hoover the next morning, “but [Cowley] put his foot down . . . O’Neal told Cowley if it was a blunder, he could just forget about them; in other words, if they failed it was [the FBI’s fault] and if successful, then O’Neal would get the credit.”
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Cowley had decided against watching Ana Sage’s apartment or otherwise monitoring her; presumably he didn’t want to risk the chance of Dillinger recognizing a surveillance and fleeing. For the moment this was Sage’s show, and the FBI did nothing to interfere. All they could do was wait. The night before, after meeting Sage, Cowley had taken an agent and visited the Marbro Theatre, scribbling notes on entries and exits. Afterward Cowley had telephoned Hoover, who said he wanted Dillinger taken alive if possible.

Around two o’clock, Cowley and Purvis began calling the men and ordering them to come into the office by three. The agents came in ones and twos, sweat stains in their jackets. No speeches were made, no orders were given. But soon word spread among the men fanning themselves with newspapers out in the bullpen. They had a new informant, and this one might be real. Wilting in the heat, the men checked their guns, and waited.

 

 

Dillinger was a careful dresser, especially around Polly Hamilton. That morning he pulled on a fresh pair of white Hanes briefs, size 34, then slid into a pair of lightweight gray slacks, black socks, red Paris garters, and white buckskin Nunn Bush shoes. He buttoned on a white kenilworth broadcloth shirt and twisted on a red-print tie, then put the keys to Sage’s apartment in his front-right pocket along with a La Corona-Belvedere cigar and a money clip.

Dillinger probably spent the day with Hamilton, who wasn’t feeling well, playing pinochle at Sage’s apartment. That was what he was doing around five o’clock, when Sage began preparing dinner. They were having one of Dillinger’s favorites, fried chicken. As she began work in the kitchen, Sage announced she didn’t have any butter. She said she would run down to the store to get some. She slid out the apartment door, walked downstairs, and made her way to a pay phone.

Purvis took the call. Everything was going as planned, Sage said; she pointedly failed to mention that Dillinger was at her apartment as they spoke. After dinner they planned to see a movie. They would probably leave around eight. “I’ll call when I know something definite,” Sage said. She hung up the phone and hurried back to her apartment.

At the Bankers Building, Purvis and Cowley paced. By 6:00 Sage had not called. By 6:30, they had still heard nothing. By 7:00 Purvis was growing nervous. This was cutting things close. Then, a few minutes after seven, his phone rang. It was Sage.

“He’s here,” she said. “We’ll be leaving in a short while. I still don’t know if we’re going to the Biograph or Marbro.” She hung up before he could ask any questions.

Purvis was startled. No one had said anything about the Biograph. It was on North Lincoln Avenue, a narrow street just around the corner from Sage’s apartment. Immediately, Cowley sent two agents to reconnoiter the theater. This was not good. Cowley and Purvis discussed what to do. In the end, they had no choice. Both theaters would need to be covered, and quickly.

At 7:15 Cowley summoned the men into Purvis’s office; about two dozen crammed into the room.
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Cowley introduced Zarkovich, who did the talking. He said Dillinger would be attending a movie at either the Marbro or Biograph theater that night. Due to cosmetic surgery, Zarkovich said, Dillinger’s appearance was somewhat different than the photos printed on FBI Wanted posters. His face was rounder. He had removed the identifying moles. The telltale cleft in his chin was gone. He had dyed his hair jet black, Zarkovich said, and grown a full mustache. According to their informant, he would be wearing a gray checkered suit, white shoes, and straw hat. Without naming them, Zarkovich then described the two women who would be accompanying Dillinger. The older one, he said, was “heavily built,” about 160 pounds. She would be wearing a bright orange skirt.
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When Zarkovich was finished, Purvis stepped forward. He wore a single-breasted blue jacket, white slacks, and a straw boater.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “you all know the character of John Dillinger. If he appears at either of the picture shows and we locate him and he effects his escape, it will be a disgrace to our Bureau. It may be that Dillinger will be at the picture show with his woman companions without arms—yet, he may appear there armed and with other members of his gang. There of course will be an undetermined element of danger in endeavoring to apprehend Dillinger. It is the desire that he be taken alive, if possible, and without injury to any agent of the Bureau. Yet, gentlemen, this is the opportunity we have all been awaiting, and he must be taken. Do not unnecessarily endanger your own lives and if Dillinger offers any resistance each man will be for himself and it will be up to each of you to do whatever you think necessary to protect yourself in taking Dillinger.”