The trial dragged on. Numerous letters were entered into evidence on both sides, including letters from Muriel to Dick’s friends and associates after he sued her for divorce, and letters between Muriel and Dick throughout 1959, affectionately written and signed by Dick’s and Muriel’s pet names for each other, “Buck Rabbit” and “Doe.”
As headlines portrayed Dick as a “hard-living heir now confined by ill health to his private island,” “sick” Dick was on a cruise in England with his sister.
In the end, the jurors, many of whom benefited from Dick’s spending habits serving as the county’s biggest industry, ruled in Dick’s favor. On May 16, 1960, the jury awarded Dick his divorce and granted Muriel $1,042 per month in alimony. It was a fraction of what Muriel felt Dick owed her.
A New Love
Far away from it all, Christian Nissen joined Dick onboard the Natalie along with Nancy and her new husband, expert yachtsman Gilbert Verney, as well as her kids. Nancy had also become good friends with Nissen in 1957, shortly after she divorced Henry Bagley.
On the cruise, Nissen noted Dick’s failing health and recommended a doctor he knew in Bad Harzburg, East Germany—a man named Hans Lindemann. Dick went to the clinic on his advice. During his stay, Dr. Lindemann’s wife, Ilsa, introduced Dick to a young woman, Annemarie Schmitt, who had a doctorate in philosophy. According to Dick, he fell in love with Annemarie in a matter of weeks. With the ink barely dry on his divorce, Dick proposed. He had obviously changed his mind about never marrying again.
Back in America, society circles had already written the obituary on Dick and Muriel’s marriage. Friends and associates who had once thought that Dick and Muriel had finally found lasting love after two divorces each, feverishly discussed the trial details. Muriel went from gifts of $125,000 in spending money, $40,000 worth of jewels, the $6 million-dollar revocable trust fund, and a $45,000 checking account to a measly $1,000-a-month alimony check. Muriel poured her dwindling funds into an appeal.
Gambrell and company spent the next year putting together motions for a new trial. Their first appeal, with Judge Durrence, was denied in the fall of 1960. Meanwhile, Dick courted his new lover while his lawyers kept him up to date on the chances of an appeal. Gambrell appealed again the following spring, March of 1961. Muriel was denied a new trial. Dick was waiting for that call.
When Dick got news that there was little chance an appeal would ever be granted, he did what he always did when he was officially a free man—he immediately made moves to wed his new lover. He and Annemarie were sailing in the South China Sea on the SS Rotterdam, and Dick had a reverend onboard, ready for that moment. On March 15, 1961, the ceremony took place without delay.
Dick boldly brought Annemarie to Sapelo for their honeymoon, as the news of his new marriage to a pretty young German woman reached America. Annemarie would soon be sleeping in Muriel’s bed.
Dick issued a four-page statement through an Atlanta public relations firm explaining his new marriage and the circumstances of his divorce, in coded language meant for Muriel’s lawyers. In it he said something strange that many believed was untrue: “I’m not the wealthy individual that some people seem to think I am, having given away the bulk of my fortune to various charities and universities and having only enough of my money to live comfortably after paying taxes.”
Muriel was stunned by Dick’s new marriage, telling reporters, “I am shocked. The world, no doubt, is beginning to understand what I have been made to endure. I have every confidence that the courts of Georgia in which our case is still pending will see that justice is done.” Her lawyers announced that Dick had no right to marry, and that he was improperly living with a woman when he knew his divorce decree was still being challenged. Muriel immediately hired spies of her own.
The Appeal
On September 8, 1961, Justice Grady Head of the Georgia Supreme Court ruled that Muriel would get her appeal, based on several mistakes—thirty-nine errors to be exact—made by both Judge Durrence and Dick’s lawyers in the first trial. Justice Head stated the trial contained “numerous errors of procedure and evidence” and that some of the evidence was irrelevant and prejudicial to Muriel. Muriel’s team was jubilant. The divorce decree was immediately nullified and a retrial ordered. Dick heard the news while he was in Friedrichshafen, Germany, with Annemarie, now officially, or unofficially, his fourth wife. Some things never changed in Dick’s world. There he was, again, with major “unfinished business” getting in the way of a new love. He had underestimated Blitz and Marianne, but he was in for the fight of his life with Muriel.
Having already been humiliated, publicly and privately, by Dick’s attempts to dispose of her, Muriel vowed to fight harder. She wanted the entire $6 million from the trust Dick set up for her and had since revoked, and she wouldn’t settle until she got it. Dick said this request was ridiculous since they had no children. Muriel didn’t care.
Muriel’s team of lawyers tried again to get a change of venue to another county in the opening hours of the trial. The concerns about bias in the first trial were supported by several revelations. One juror from the first trial admitted to favoring Dick. Sheriff Poppell, who handled all the subpoenas, had gone out of his jurisdiction and joined Dick’s Savannah attorney, Paul Varner, on a trip to New York to serve Muriel with divorce papers. Poppell had also proudly testified to being a loyal supporter of Reynolds, admitted dining with witnesses, and conceded he probably wasn’t fit to handle divorce proceedings. Gambrell cited nearly $69,000 in local government and civic bonds in 1960 alone as well as Dick’s $60,000 donation to the R. J. Reynolds Gymnasium at Todd Grant High School, and the tens of thousands of dollars he had given to the city since he’d been married to Muriel. Gambrell said there was no way Muriel could have an unbiased trial in the little town.
The presiding Superior Court judge, J. K. Whaley, again denied the motion for a change of venue but promised Muriel she’d get a fair trial. However, Muriel’s legal team was successful in requiring that Dick be present this time.
Dick and Annemarie
During the fall of 1961, Dick and Annemarie, a modest, conservative-looking young woman, took long walks at night along the peaceful lakeside of Locarno, Switzerland. They strolled the narrow streets, lined with flower boxes, as the little village sparkled and twinkled with lights. It was a place one would never expect to find an American millionaire now engaged in bigamy with a young German scholar. Neatly parked streetcars lined the roadways, rugged Alps dotted the horizon, small rowboats bobbed up and down as the lake water lapped along the boardwalk. A dainty wrought iron fence protected passersby. Locarno was clean, organized, meticulous, and quiet. Their hotel was boxy, stale, safe, and uncontroversial. So unlike Dick’s exotic locales and fancy homes during his marriage to Muriel. This was a new era for Dick—the age of Annemarie.
As they strolled along one evening, Annemarie walked submissively behind Dick, bundled up in a white coat. Dick’s oxygen tank was notably absent, and they held hands on their way to dinner. At a quiet, empty restaurant, they sat side by side in a booth. They talked more like old friends. Dick’s voice often dropped off as he stared out into the distance. Dick had a lot on his mind, and he didn’t feel well. Annemarie gently tried to get Dick’s attention before giving up and staring off into space herself.
On the way back, they didn’t hold hands. Perhaps they knew they were being followed—by now Dick had heard about Muriel’s new appeal. Annemarie lugged her heavy purse by herself. Dick carried papers of some sort in his hand. The street was virtually empty except for the occasional streetcar or shop owner. Just Dick and his bride, living in isolation. Gone were the days of Dick’s partying and jet-setting. Gone was the fun-loving, full-of-life Dick Reynolds.
The Second Trial
On May 6, 1962, the Darien courthouse was packed with reporters and columnists. Darien locals streamed in to hear the gossipy details of Dick and Muriel’s life, and everyone was eager to get a glimpse of poor, dear Dick Reyn
olds. He came in with his entourage of assistants, doctors, and lawyers, and his oxygen mask firmly attached to his wheezing face, for which he gained a significant amount of sympathy. Muriel’s lawyers began to wonder if they’d been better off if he hadn’t shown up. Just a week before, Dick had been photographed smiling broadly at the courthouse for a deposition where Muriel’s attorneys grilled him. Muriel, who hadn’t seen Dick in two and a half years, couldn’t even look at him without tearing up, nor could he look at her. He had a new life and a new wife now, and this was the last place on earth he wanted to be. The trial got underway.
Graphic and riveting details of Dick and Muriel’s life together were revealed once again. This trial was almost identical to the first: It had all the same drama, viciousness, and legal maneuvering—plus Dick and an oxygen tank. The epic divorce was quickly becoming the stuff of legend, and the testimony, which was at some times dramatic and at others downright funny, was fit for the big screen.
Christian Nissen had flown to Georgia and volunteered to testify against Muriel for both trials. He recounted the Copenhagen incident and implied that Dick was forced to fire the Rosings because of Muriel. He also testified that Muriel never wanted American citizenship as proof of her anti-American sentiment. She complained that the American Navy was worthless, which upset Dick, and said Americans had no culture, didn’t eat properly, and couldn’t dress.
“Dick would get so mad,” Nissen said.
Under cross-examination, Nissen was forced to admit that Dick didn’t like the British either, especially because of his prison time. He also admitted that the Rosings were discharged mainly because they were ill, not because of Muriel, who was not on the ship when they left. Muriel’s lawyers asked if he listened to Dick’s playing tapes of the first trial as he often did with his friends for his own amusement. Nissen claimed that he did not participate in such activities, but courtroom observers were nonetheless disturbed by the knowledge that Dick was replaying the tapes. Then Muriel’s lawyers revealed to the court that Nissen was once a Nazi spy and had received the Iron Cross for his service. Dick’s witnesses weren’t looking too good.
Guenther Lehman, who had just returned from a brief period of service in the Navy, testified to Muriel’s rudeness on the yacht. He said Muriel was disgusted by how everything in America was mass-produced. But Lehman admitted that he got along well with her. She used to order him around at first, and one time she put a big sign in the yacht’s galley that said, “THINK.” Lehman confronted her about it and tore down the sign. Muriel just “had a terrible desire to manage people,” Lehman said.
Dick Takes the Stand
After several of Dick’s witnesses testified, Dick finally took the stand, wheezing into his oxygen mask. As he sat in the box, he again accused Muriel of vicious cruelty and of trying to kill him. He brought up the time Muriel had allegedly ordered the servants to salt his food and said she blew smoke in his face when he was trying to quit smoking. He dramatically emphasized the garden knife and the occult activities. Muriel’s lawyers challenged him, saying Dick told her to use the knife for gardening and had never complained about it till now.
Dick then claimed Muriel was really trying to kill him with cruelty. He said that Muriel got him so upset he threw up his lunches. “Two months prior to her leaving, I had lunch brought in on a tray, and she’d say, ‘This food is slop, it’s trash, the cook is no good, you ought to throw it all in the garbage can.’ I’d say, ‘Please leave this room. Let me eat in peace for god’s sake.’ And she wouldn’t leave.” Dick recounted all of the times Muriel mocked his friends and associates, which he said traumatized him. When he got upset, she always promised she would never say mean things again, but she always did.
Then Dick accused Muriel of forcing him to sell his 25,000 shares of RJR Tobacco stock too early. He said if he would have waited, he would have made millions more. Dick entered into evidence the yellow paper tablet showing the 1958 sale and said Muriel had a fit when she bought a pack of Camels and saw that the camel illustration was removed. She convinced Dick to sell based on that. On cross-examination, Dick was forced to admit that he also was mad that they had changed the logo without consulting him, and he had made millions of dollars on that sale. Later, Strat Coyner testified that lots of people sold at that time, and it was unlikely that Muriel was the only one who influenced Dick. “He just thought it was a good time to sell,” Coyner said.
Meanwhile, the court learned, Dick had fired Coyner, his lawyer of thirty years, over his dealings with Muriel and her will. Ledyard Staples handled the paperwork now. Muriel was stunned. What has gotten into Dick? Muriel thought. He’s losing his mind.
Muriel’s lawyers reminded the court of Dick’s pet, Gretel the goose, to show that Dick had, in fact, lost his mind. Frank Durant took the stand and defended Dick’s love for the goose, saying, “He likes animals.”
Dick expressed resentment over Muriel having a “whopping good time” with her mother and there were hints of Dick’s exhaustion with regard to Eleanor. As Muriel listened, she quietly cursed her mother for helping to ruin yet another marriage.
Then Dick charged Muriel with the oddest claim yet—he said Muriel had faked her pregnancy to stop him from divorcing her in 1954 after she took the half million dollars in Copenhagen. Dick said there was never any proof that she was pregnant or miscarried and it was evidence of her deceiving ways. Dick’s claims were never proven, and Muriel produced all of the doctor’s reports and the certificate of fetal death in response.
Muriel continued to present herself as the poor, penniless wife in her effort to get more alimony. This seemed ridiculous, as she surrounded herself with lawyers worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Jurors didn’t believe she was suffering in New York either—her Park Avenue address alone was synonymous with luxury. But Muriel did a good job of pointing out that compared to Dick’s standards and the way she was accustomed to living, it was a significant downgrade. Dick’s lawyers protested by showing the jury pictures of the lobby. Muriel said, “I don’t own the building and I don’t live in the lobby. I live in a fifteen-by-fifteen room.” Aaron Kravitch, one of Dick’s eight lawyers, reminded her that she had entered pictures of Dick’s lobby into evidence the day before. Muriel said, “He owns his lobby.” She went on to note that Dick owned a hotel in Tennessee that was the same size as the whole Park Avenue building in which she lived.
When Dick accused Muriel of extravagance, it seemed preposterous in light of the way he lived. Muriel’s lawyers tracked down evidence of Dick’s own extravagance, and his extensive travel while he was supposedly sick—Dick ordered tickets to the Kentucky Derby just two months before the trial and had tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of filet mignon, assorted steaks, lobster, frog legs, and king crab delivered to Sapelo via Delta Air Freight.
Dick then accused Muriel of hating his kids. She replied that she had been close to his older sons during their marriage. She admitted to complaining about Michael, but he was the only one. Dick said that she hated “the little brats.”
Dick’s lawyers then delivered a special surprise. They entered letters, courtesy of Marianne O’Brien, into evidence—all sealed with the red wax that Muriel used on all her letters, and signed, “Danger Jones” and “BW.” The 1952 letters from Danger Jones to Marianne accused her of sleeping with everyone, including Frank Sinatra, and called her a penniless, failed Hollywood actress and “a hard-boiled gangster’s moll with a foul mouth who never lifted a finger to care for Dick.” Marianne, eager for revenge against Muriel, brought them to Dick’s lawyers the same day Muriel left the island in 1959. Handwriting experts confirmed they were Muriel’s letters. While they were an attempt to prove Muriel’s cruelty, they also worked against Dick—further proving he had tricked Muriel off the island and was planning the divorce all along.
Dick’s lawyers accused Muriel of hoping he would die before the divorce was final and dragging out the divorce proceedings for that purpose. Muriel’s lawyers responde
d that Dick could have easily settled with Muriel, but he was trying to starve her out until she ran out of money. Gambrell went on to say that Dick’s entire mental cruelty charge was a sham. The bearer bonds and money didn’t work, the servants’ arguments were weak, and the alleged infidelity didn’t work. Torem collected reports from the private investigators the entire time Muriel was in Paris, and when nothing else worked, Dick drummed up the not-so-original idea of mental cruelty.
As Gambrell then accused Dick of adultery and bigamy, the trial took a new turn.
Adultery with Annemarie
Muriel produced dozens of exhibits: envelopes and stationery monogrammed “Dr. Annemarie Schmitt Reynolds,” huge checks written out to Annemarie in 1960, their Rotterdam itinerary, photos of the two of them together, and statements from Bergdorf Goodman—they had mistakenly sent receipts for items for Annemarie to Muriel’s house.
The exhibits, which included his passport, made a mockery of Dick’s claims that he was too sick to go to court—he had obtained visas for Nepal and actually traveled to Canada, Hong Kong, Bombay, Holland, Thailand, Japan, France, Norway, Egypt, and other countries. The couple was caught at the Park Hotel in Bremen, where Muriel’s private investigators snapped photos of the floors they occupied. There were photos of their mailbox at the La Palma resort in Locarno, Switzerland, and photos of them eating at various restaurants together. There they were, romancing each other, just as Dick had done with Muriel not so long ago during his divorce with Marianne.
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