Kid Carolina

by Heidi Schnakenberg

  Were his uncle and sisters handling the investigation properly? He had received word that Smith’s death was ruled a suicide, but Dick felt strongly that his brother was not the type to take his own life. When he arrived in North Carolina, many people were going to have to answer to him.

  Maddening Journey Home

  Dick finally caught a plane to Rio de Janeiro, where he could surely make another air connection straight to the United States. But his journey to the scene of his brother’s death stalled yet again. He had arrived at the start of a three-month civil war—the Paulist Revolt of 1932. When soldiers marching through town handed him a machine gun to protect himself, he wondered how he would get out. Dick holed up with American airmen in a hotel and dodged bullets that blasted through the windows in the night. By dawn, the local authorities managed to subdue the rebellion temporarily, but all flights out of town were booked. Much to Dick’s annoyance, reporters found him in Rio, and he was quoted saying that he was “profoundly shocked” by Smith’s death but he would form no opinion until he talked to investigators. Dick finally found a steamboat, the American Legion, which was set to sail to New York via Trinidad.

  When the ship docked in Port of Spain, Dick caught a plane to Cuba. He landed in a small airfield in Cienfuegos to avoid the publicity that was already swarming around the United States about his brother’s death. Reporters were eager to talk to Dick. While Dick’s sisters grieved and tended to the funeral arrangements in Winston-Salem, Strat Coyner met him in Cuba, with the three-hundred-page coroner’s report in his hands. If Dick’s sisters or anyone else in the family had heard from Dick up to that point, no one knew it—they were likely protecting him as he attempted to make his way home undetected. Dick and Strat drove from Cienfuegos to Havana and then flew to Miami on a Pan Am Airways flight. An official on the flight had radioed Miami and reported Dick’s arrival and told the press that he had traveled under an assumed name. In Florida, they rented a dark sedan and drove up to Winston-Salem, where Dick read the testimony from an inquest held weeks earlier as well as a coroner’s report several times in the car. Dick finally arrived in Winston-Salem, incognito. His gritty, primitive, ten-thousand-mile journey home had come to an end, a month and a half after Smith died.

  When Dick arrived, Reynolda had been closed for some time, so he stayed with Strat and contacted his sisters to get their version of the tragedy. Dick had read the coroner’s ruling and had concluded, contrary to publicized reports, that Smith’s death was a murder, not a suicide. Dick wanted Smith’s already buried body to be exhumed for an autopsy. There was a lot to sort out.

  Smith’s Tumultuous Life

  After Dick left to sail on his freighter in 1930, Smith continued to hone his skills as a pilot, and he won several races up and down the coast. In 1931, he took on his most ambitious quest yet—he embarked on one of the first around-the-world flights with a small Savoia-Marchetti amphibian plane with an 85 horsepower engine. He first took the Berengaria to London with his amphibian as his “luggage.” Dick met him to help him get through customs in Southampton, and then Smith departed for the 128-day trip from London to Hong Kong. The flight took him to exotic locations including Tunis, Cairo, Gaza, Baghdad, Karachi, Bangkok, and Hanoi. The flight set the unofficial record for the fastest flight from London to Hong Kong, but Smith was unable to complete the journey home because he had mechanical failure in Zhanjiang. Smith kept a journal of the brave, hair-raising, and often life-threatening flight, which would be one of his greatest accomplishments.

  However, Smith’s personal life wasn’t as successful as his aviation adventures. Two years before his death, young Smith and his then wife, Anne Cannon, were having marital problems soon after their hasty wedding in late 1929. They’d only been married a month when Anne got pregnant, and by the time she was due to have the baby in August, she and Smith were already on the brink of divorce. Anne gave birth to a girl, also named Anne, on August 23, 1930. By then they were effectively separated.

  Smith left and spent much of his time in New York with his sisters, patronizing speakeasies, having affairs, and living the wild life, just as Dick had done before him. Because Smith had pursued his aviation interests with Dick instead of going to college, he was unanchored by any responsibility outside of his own young family, whom he had now effectively deserted.

  In the spring of 1930, while Smith was still very married to pregnant Anne, he met the famous Broadway torch singer Libby Holman at one of her plays in Baltimore. Libby was as famous for her throaty, soulful voice as she was for her bisexuality, having been linked to Louisa Carpenter of the DuPont family for years. When Smith first met Libby, who was a decade older than he, he was instantly infatuated. He made no secret of his attraction for Libby and he clung to her with the unabashed abandon of a schoolboy. After Smith’s long and dogged pursuit of her, in which she refused his advances numerous times, Libby finally gave in to the wealthy heir.

  Smith wasted no time moving to divorce Anne so he could marry Libby. Anne didn’t protest a divorce, having long since fallen out of love with Smith. They obtained a divorce in Reno, Nevada, just as quickly and easily as they had gotten married. Smith’s grounds for divorce were that “she likes big parties and I like small parties.” Anne added that Smith used foul language that left her upset. This was all the Reno court needed to hear. Although he had not yet come into his inheritance, Smith agreed to give Anne a healthy settlement of $1 million, which she was satisfied with, as well as a trust for baby Anne. Beyond that, Anne waived all further rights to Smith’s estate. The two of them parted amicably, and Anne went on to take care of Smith’s daughter on her own.

  The same day the Reno divorce went through, Smith took out a license to marry Libby. In one short year, Smith had been married, made a father, and divorced, and now he was about to get married again. He was nineteen years old.

  A Party and a Gun

  Without a word to the family, Smith eloped with Libby in Monroe, Michigan, on November 23, 1931, just a week after his divorce from Anne. Dick was still out of the country in his boat at the time, and Mary and Nancy had no idea that Smith’s teenage passion had reached such a pitch.

  Many of Libby’s friends also wondered what she was doing—marrying a teenager when she could have had any man she wanted. While it was evident that Smith was crazy about Libby, her affection for him seemed reserved; although she was earning $150,000 a year on her own as an actress, most assumed she married him for money. Some of Libby’s friends countered that her dear “Smitty” was already possessed by a jealous love for her and had threatened suicide a number of times if she wouldn’t marry him. On at least one occasion Smith flew into a rage after a fight with Libby and nearly crashed when he took off on a plane that was low on fuel.

  No one could agree on the true nature of their relationship, nor would they have cared if Libby hadn’t played such an important role in what happened next.

  Right after Smith and Libby got married, Smith left for his incredible global flight. He said he wanted his excursion to bring him fame, but he would end up being more famous for the events that soon followed. Libby met him in China for a honeymoon when he suspended the flight in April 1932. By May, they finally made their secret marriage public in an announcement in Manhattan, and Smith made plans to study aeronautical engineering at New York University in the fall. By June, they decided to move to Reynolda for a few months. They spent the summer entertaining Libby’s friends from New York and Smith’s friends and family in Winston. That summer, Smith continued to make provocative threats that he would kill himself when he and Libby fought, even alluding to his own imminent death in the family Bible one night. He taunted Libby with a story about the time a fortune-teller in New York told him that 1932 would be a “dangerous period” in his life. Libby interpreted it as emotional blackmail, rooted in his possessive jealousy.

  Smith threw a big weekend-long party at Reynolda with a group of Libby’s theater friends from New York and some local Winston-Sal
em friends. The weekend got off to a miserable start. Smith and Libby were fighting. He repeatedly accused her of flirting with his friends, and, to spite her, sent a telegram to Dick, who was off the coast of West Africa, saying he was going to join him there soon. Then Smith left the party with his secretary, Ab Walker, that night to pick up some girls, who were believed to be prostitutes.

  Dick received the telegram the next day. That night, Smith and Libby argued again while their friends celebrated the twenty-first birthday of Smith’s friend Charles Gideon Hill, over a barbecue and gallons of illegal corn whiskey at the boathouse overlooking Lake Katharine. It was late on the night of July 5, 1932, and most of the partygoers had either left or passed out in various spots throughout the house. Smith and Libby retreated to the master bedroom and continued to fight. Smith accused Libby of flirting with Ab.

  In the early morning hours of July 6, a gunshot went off on the sleeping porch. Ab heard the shot down below in the reception hall. Libby ran out to the balcony and screamed, “Smith’s shot himself!”

  Ab ran upstairs and found Smith lying unconscious on the bed, a bullet wound in his right temple. An automatic .32 caliber Mauser pistol, belonging to Smith, was on the floor.

  The Questions Begin

  According to Libby, the possessive and jealous Smith had an inferiority complex and had repeatedly threatened to kill himself. He had also repeatedly accused Libby of cheating on him without evidence. The night of the party was no different. When they had argued in the bedroom that night, Smith again accused her of being unfaithful and again threatened suicide. He had begun packing his bags, saying he was going to run off and join his brother on his freighter. Meanwhile, Ab was downstairs closing up the house.

  When Libby called Ab for help, the two of them rushed Smith to Baptist Hospital. Libby’s negligee was soaked in blood, and Libby and Ab convened in a nearby hospital room. There was nothing the doctors could do for Smith and he was pronounced dead four hours later. The death was deemed a suicide.

  While there were many questions, Mary and Nancy presumed it to be the correct conclusion. Robert E. Lassiter, still Smith’s guardian at the time, issued a statement saying they believed it was a suicide, although they were perplexed as to why he would kill himself. Uncle Will was at a horse race in Cleveland, Ohio, when he heard the news, and he rushed back to Winston-Salem to make funeral arrangements for his nephew.

  Meanwhile, investigators had found the gun and the bullet on the floor of the bedroom, along with blood on the bed, bedroom floor, and bathroom, and a blood-stained towel. Fingerprints of the guests were taken, and guards patrolled Reynolda.

  An inquest was held on July 8 at Reynolda. In front of a jury, Libby, Ab, and several other of the partygoers were questioned about the events the night of Smith’s death. Dressed in a negligee and perched provocatively on a bed in Reynolda, Libby claimed she couldn’t remember anything because she had been drinking. Ab and the other guests backed the story that Smith had shot himself, but their testimony was often vague and inconclusive. Every inch of Reynolda was examined in front of several witnesses.

  On July 9, at 11:00 A.M., Smith was buried next to his parents in Salem cemetery, and all the Reynoldses, excepting Dick, joined both Libby and Ab in mourning his tragic death.

  After the funeral, investigators found flaws in the coroner’s report. That changed everything.

  On July 11, Smith’s death was ruled not a suicide, but death at the hands of “a party or parties unknown.” At the time, neither Libby nor the Reynoldses were sure what to make of the ruling. Needless to say, the investigation would likely go on much longer. By July 13, they were all mentally and emotionally exhausted. Everyone left Reynolda—Mary and Nancy to New York—and Libby was picked up by her parents.

  Two weeks later, the grand jury had reached a conclusion as a result of what they found to be damning testimony during the inquest. Libby and Ab were indicted on first-degree murder charges. The accusations sent shock waves through Winston-Salem and New York. The charges were later reduced to manslaughter after both Libby and Ab posted $25,000 bail. Libby’s bail was paid by none other than her rumored lover, Louisa Carpenter. In addition to the conflicting testimony, the jury found that Ab had appeared to have manipulated the crime scene after Smith was rushed to the hospital that night. In particular, they suspected that he had at first hid the gun and later moved it to the bedroom where Smith was shot for investigators to find.

  Meanwhile, reporters complained that Dick Reynolds had “thwarted all efforts to ascertain his whereabouts,” as local officials repeatedly said that they expected Dick to add pressure to the case once he arrived. Tensions were running high between the Reynolds and Holman families. Libby’s father, attorney Alfred Holman, called the indictment a “dastardly frame-up.” Libby had fled her father’s home and gone into hiding, while reporters scattered throughout the country trying to find her.

  By the time Dick’s tedious, piecemeal trip from the Canary Islands had delivered him to Winston-Salem, the publicity and hysteria had already traumatized Mary and Nancy. Then rumors spread that Libby and Ab were having an affair, and that Libby was pregnant with a child that may or may not have been Smith’s, which further complicated the mess. The siblings were now suspicious that Libby had killed Smith, with Ab as a potential accomplice. The press was inclined toward the Reynoldses and speculated that Libby and Ab were having an affair and had been confronted by Smith before the shooting.

  When reporters finally found Dick, who was holed up at Stratton Coyner’s apartment and wearing a mourning band on his left sleeve, he said, “Smith was a very level-headed boy. I knew him better, perhaps, than anyone else. When I received the brief cable telling of his death, I felt sure he had not taken his own life. I thought probably it had been an accident.” He also said that Smith “did not have an inferiority complex” as Libby claimed, and that he “was not of suicidal temperament.” He added that he “wanted to see justice done.”

  As promised, Dick conducted a secret exhumation and autopsy of Smith’s body—at midnight—to determine where the bullet had entered and exited. The grisly task was conducted by four surgeons, one of whom included longtime family friend Dr. Henry Valk. The results of the autopsy suggested he was shot at close range—a distance of three to five feet—rather than point-blank—a distance less than three feet and much more common during a suicide, as the original coroner’s report stated.

  Afterward, Dick met reporters at the tobacco offices and said, “I believe my brother’s death was murder.” Dick’s statements only exacerbated the local hostility toward Libby and caused the Holmans to take a hard line. They prepared for trial by making sure the court would hear everything about Smith’s behavior prior to the shooting. Everyone eagerly awaited the October trial.

  Then, a shocking change of course: Three months after the indictments, the charges against Libby and Ab were dropped due to lack of evidence and Uncle Will’s sudden recommendation that the trial not go forward. Will had talked to Ab personally about the case and discovered more information than he wanted to know about Smith and Libby’s relationship. It was presumed that Will was afraid of the information that might come out about his nephew if the trial went on. The details of Smith’s love life and infidelities might prove embarrassing for the family. Libby had already publicly discussed Smith’s sexual insecurities, which she believed contributed to his suicidal behavior, and indicated that she would not hesitate to reveal any and all details about her and Smith’s personal life in order to clear her name. Dick initiated a publicity campaign of his own that highlighted Smith’s accomplishments in order to counter Libby, but his efforts were no match for Libby’s scandalous revelations. Will famously hated publicity and scandal, so rather than fuel these stories, he wanted the charges dropped. He wrote to the officer handling the case, Carlisle Higgins, that they would be “quite happy” if the case was dropped. The more Dick learned in Winston-Salem, the more he, too, became embarrassed.

 
; Dick issued a statement: “I have stated that I did not believe that my brother committed suicide and I’m still of the same opinion. His death might have been accidental. I believe a lengthy trial with the evidence now available would accomplish nothing toward clearing up the mystery and would only result in undue hardship for the accused and heartaches for all concerned. The whole truth of what happened that night at Reynolda will probably never be known.” Dick further suggested that there might have been a “scuffle” during which the gun discharged accidentally.

  While Will also did not believe Smith committed suicide, he hinted that he, too, considered the shooting an accident after carefully reviewing the circumstances. Libby was infuriated when the case was dropped. She wanted full “exoneration” at the trial, which now would never happen.

  No evidence of an affair between Libby and Ab was uncovered. Libby also confirmed that she was pregnant and unflinchingly claimed the child was Smith’s.

  To this day, Smith’s death is a mystery. The most likely story is that Smith did threaten to commit suicide and held the gun to his head. Libby probably rushed across the room to stop him, and in the ensuing “scuffle,” as Dick said, the revolver accidentally went off. Perhaps Smith’s suicide threat was supposed to be a dramatic maneuver intended to manipulate Libby—but instead ended in tragedy. With his daring excursions and risky lifestyle, Smith had tempted death numerous times during his short life. But it was his emotional insecurities, not a stunt flight or mechanical failure over the Sahara, that ultimately led to his demise.

  No matter what happened, Libby refused to speak about the incident for the rest of her life. No one but Libby, and perhaps Ab, would ever know what really happened.