The Texarkana Moonlight Murders: The Unsolved Case of the 1946 Phantom Killer

by Michael Newton

  A case in point involves serial killer and cannibal Albert Fish, executed in January 1936 for the murder of a young girl from Manhattan. That homicide occurred in 1928, with no trace of the victim found until Fish wrote her parents a letter in November 1934, describing the girl’s death in graphic detail. Fish did not sign the letter, but his chosen stationery bore the letters “N.Y.P.C.B.A.,” identified as representing the New York Private Chauffeur’s Benevolent Association. Police questioned the union’s janitor, who admitted taking some of the stationery home, then leaving it behind when he moved out of his lodgings at 200 East 52nd Street in Manhattan. The latest tenant of the janitor’s old room was Albert Fish, who readily confessed in custody and led authorities to his victim’s skeletal remains upstate. Subsequent investigation identified more young victims, prompting the New York Daily Mirror to brand Fish “the most vicious child-slayer in criminal history.”19

  Thus, it appears that if the stationery used to write the Texarkana letters had been traced to a specific source, the author might have been identifed. However, realistically, a search of every office, factory, and home within the area was neither practical nor legal, without evidence supporting search warrants.

  On June 7, 1947, Elmer Feagins sat for another interview with Sheriff Presley and Deputy Frank Riley representing Bowie County law enforcement, Deputy Tillman Johnson from Miller County, and two FBI agents—one each from the Dallas and Little Rock field offices. As explained in a bureau report of the grilling, Feagins was “interrogated at length” with regard to his railroad employment and the union practice of “bumping” employees based on seniority. Feagins named four coworkers who had bumped him from various jobs over the past two years, but denied any lingering grudges. A fifth fellow employee had embroiled him in a $200 loan that went sour, but Feagins told lawmen that he “did not become particularly incensed over this matter.” Another acquaintance from work often used the word “spondulux”—a slang term for money, with many variant spellings—found in the first extortion note.20

  The assembled lawmen focused finally on Feagins’s personal life, pressing him to “reluctantly” admit two recent affairs with women he met at Texarkana’s Busy Bee tavern. He had slept with one woman two or three times before learning that she was “no good,” then broke off the affair without ever learning her home address. His second paramour was a divorcée living near the city limits. Neither fling had been covert or ever caused him any trouble. On a stranger note, a third acquaintance from the Busy Bee had grown “indifferent” to Feagins around the time he received the first extortion letter, then “became friendly” again a month or so after the second, around June 1.21

  Feagins also described a peculiar incident at the Busy Bee, occurring in the latter part of March 1947. He had recently sold his house on East 12th Street for something over $3,000 and was carrying the cash—including three $1,000 bills—in his wallet on the day in question. That evening, the bartender had launched into a tale about some customer who had tried to settle his tab with a bill so large that she could not make change for it out of the cash register. Feagins, showing off, had flashed his three Grover Clevelands (last printed in 1934), and the bartender had snatched one, calling out to her other patrons, “Look what I got!” At that point, a “big man” had approached Feagins, asking to see the bill, telling him, “Don’t think I’m trying anything.” After he received the first extortion note, Feagins returned to the Busy Bee and got the stranger’s name from the bartender, suggesting him as another possible suspect.22

  Police and federal agents followed up the various leads provided by Feagins, questioning and fingerprinting his recent lovers without linking either to the menacing letters. Large deletions from the bureau files make it impossible to say how many other friends or coworkers were questioned, but we know that none was linked to the mailings received by Feagins or Clark Brown.23

  FBI agents located Floyd Kilcrease in May 1947, interviewing him on May 7 and 8. They described him as a heavy drinker, divorced from his first wife and on shaky ground with his second, convicted in 1929 for violation of the National Prohibition Act and sentenced to four months in jail. He had sold the house on Locust Street to Feagins for $4,750: $2,000 in cash, with a $1,000 mortgage held by the First Federal Loan Association. He subsequently took out another $1,000 mortgage on the house, telling G-men that “he knew that Feagins did not have any money [and] that if he had he would have bought up the second mortgage when Kilcrease offered to sell it to him for $500.”24

  Kilcrease denied sending any letters to Feagins, stating that he was in California from March 28, 1947, until April 6. He had owned a typewriter—a Royal, not an Underwood—but told agents that it was stolen on Christmas Eve 1946. A report filed with the sheriff’s office on December 26 apparently confirmed theft of the typewriter and various tools. Kilcrease produced a letter typed on the stolen machine, which failed to match any of the six anonymous letters on file. To hedge their bets, agents visited the apartment building where Kilcrease’s daughter resided, learning from neighbors that “no noise resembling typing had ever been heard from the apartment.”25

  Two months after his marathon interview, Floyd Kilcrease surprised investigators with word that he had received an extortion note himself, on January 29, 1947, but neglected to mention it when he was questioned.26 Written in pencil, all capitals, that message read:

  FOR YOUR IMMEDIATE ATTENTION FOR SOME TIME YOU HAVE OWED THIS DEBT, NOW IT IS TIME TO PAY IT. YOU MUST NOT REPORT TAKE SERIAL NO. OR WATCH. PUT 20 $100 BILLS IN SACK OF THIS COLOR, PLACE IT AT [Deleted] WHERE HOLE AT 2ND DOOR TIE STRING AT HOLE SO CAN BE PULLED OUT. ON THUR THIS WEEK AT 7:00 P M THEN GET AWAY. THIS DEBT HAS BEEN OWED LONG ENOUGH AND WILL BE COLLECTED ONE WAY OR OTHER.27

  On July 7, 1947, Kilcrease identified a neighbor, Madeline Mary James, as the probable author of his extortion letter. James lived across the street from Kilcrease, at 3112 Locust Street, and while Kilcrease initially told agents that “he personally had never had any dealings with Miss James,” he then contradicted himself by relating two specific incidents of conflict. In the first, James had accused Kilcrease’s nephews—sons of his brother, Noah—of lobbing rocks at her house. More recently, in April 1947, the Feagins children had knocked a baseball into James’s yard, prompting a visit wherein she asked Feagins and his wife to keep their kids off of her property. Still, Feagins insisted to G-men, he and his wife “did not consider Miss James as an enemy of theirs.”28

  The agents went to work, identifying Madeline James as a forty-one-year-old secretary employed by Texarkana realtor W. C. Kuhl. Interviews with residents of Locust Street revealed that James led a secluded life with her elderly mother and was generally regarded as “unusual.” More specifically, she “engaged in spirited contraversies [sic] with many of her neighbors”—one of them named as a Phantom suspect in letters sent to Clark Brown, after James accused the man of peeping through her windows at night.29

  Agents visited W. C. Kuhl at home, on the night of July 7, learning that James had worked afternoons at his office since the latter part of May. Kuhl “regarded her work as being inferior and classified her as being mentally unstable.” He granted access to the two typewriters in his office, and those samples were sent off to the FBI’s Dallas field office on July 8. One day later, Dallas reported that the two machines had produced all four letters received by Clark Brown, both extortion notes mailed to Elmer Feagins, and the letter received by Captain Gonzaullas in June 1946. Kuhl fired James on July 10, granting her two weeks’ severance pay.30

  The legal noose was tightening. Next, agents set about connecting James to the handwritten letters received by Gonzaullas and Elmer Feagins. To that end, G-men visited her previous employer, Texarkana’s office of the National Equity Life Insurance Company, where James had worked as a secretary from August 30, 1946, to May 13, 1947. There, they obtained a book of carbon-copy receipts, including “a great number” written and signed by James. Those samples, while limited, appeared to
match the handwritten letters sent to Captain Gonzaullas and Elmer Feagins.31

  Agents finally confronted Madeline James on July 10, 1947. During that interview, James denied writing any anonymous letters, but provided fingerprints—none of which matched latents lifted from the Phantom crime scenes—and voluntary samples of her handwriting and printing, prepared over a three-hour period. A memo from Little Rock’s agent-in-charge, sent with those samples to Washington, noted, “These specimens were taken between 2:00 P.M. and 5:00 P.M. on July 10, 1947, at which time Miss James appeared nervous and was endeavoring to distort her handwriting, as well as her handprinting.”32

  Still, it was enough for the moment. On July 11, Little Rock’s agent-in-charge telephoned Assistant United States Attorney Charles Beasley, Jr. in Fort Smith, Arkansas, to brief him on the evidence gathered thus far. Beasley authorized a complaint charging James with use of the U.S. mail to transmit extortion demands. In Texarkana, United States Commissioner Thelma Winham issued the complaint and FBI agents arrested James the same afternoon. Following speedy arraignment, a cousin posted her $5,000 bond, and James was released pending action by a federal grand jury in Fort Smith.33

  On July 15, J. Edgar Hoover sent duplicate memos to his Dallas and Little Rock field offices, noting that handwriting samples collected from James at her first interview were inadequate for prosecution, “because [of] variations due to apparent disguise [in] both known and questioned material. Sufficient characteristics [were] noted [in] both handwriting and handprinting to warrant obtaining immediately further known specimens from Madeline Mary James. If possible, both dictated and undictated natural handwriting and handprinting should be obtained. Dictated specimens should be in wording of questioned material prepared at various speeds. Some handprinting should be prepared in all upper case letters and some in all lower case letters.”34

  Dictated specimens of handwriting are used by law enforcement to compare a suspect’s penmanship with questioned documents such as threats, ransom demands, forged wills, and so on. In such cases, a document is usually read aloud while the suspect transcribes it, permitting investigators to match precise words and, perhaps, catch telltale spelling errors peculiar to a given individual. The technique fails, however, if authorities—as in the Lindbergh kidnapping case, with defendant Bruno Richard Hauptmann—either show a suspect the actual document or coach the suspect in misspelling particular words.

  Hoover’s command was law within the bureau, although criminal defendants had no obligation to obey his orders. Nonetheless, for reasons best known to herself, Madeline James agreed to provide more handwriting samples on July 25, 1947. Between 2:00 and 5:30 P.M. on that day, she filled twenty-seven sheets of paper with eleven samples. Eight were dictated, with various suggestions as to speed and style, while three were not. Dispatching the samples to Washington on July 28, Little Rock’s agent-in-charge advised Hoover, “At the beginning, Miss James appeared nervous and appeared to be endeavoring to distort her handwriting, as well as her handprinting. However, the nervousness tended to disappear as she progressed with the writing.”35

  The federal grand jury in Fort Smith indicted James on August 27, charging her with extortion against Elmer Feagins and Floyd Kilcrease. She appeared before U.S. District Judge Harry Lemley in Texarkana on September 24, represented by attorneys Ben Shaver and Ned Stewart, and entered a not-guilty plea on all counts. Judge Lemley announced that trial would commence on November 10, 1947.36

  That Monday found Captain Gonzaullas distracted by other business, forcing postponement of trial until 1:30 P.M. on Tuesday, November 11. That afternoon, as noted in an FBI memo, James’s trial “progressed nicely until the known handwriting specimens were introduced.” Attorneys Shaver and Stewart “vigorously contested the admissibility of these specimens and put up such an argument” that Judge Lemley dismissed the jury, hearing further arguments in his chambers. On Wednesday morning, Lemley overruled the defense objection to admission of their client’s handwriting, but Shaver and Stewart were not finished yet. They fired back with a request for psychiatric examination of James, which Lemley granted and arranged for Wednesday afternoon.37

  The next morning, November 13, Lemley received a letter from two physicians, stating that “this patient denies knowing the reason for her arrest and whether or not she does it was not possible to determine at the examination. It is our opinion that this woman is mentally ill, and that she is not in possession of sufficient mental competency at this time to understand the nature of the proceedings against her, and rationally unable to advise with counsel as to her defense.” The judge accepted that diagnosis and dismissed all criminal charges, with an order committing James for psychiatric treatment.38

  The sideshow was over—but what of the Phantom?

  Chapter 10

  No Stone Unturned

  In April, following the Martin-Booker homicides, Captain Gonzaullas had vowed to stay in Texarkana until the Phantom was captured or killed. By August, the Lone Wolf was ready to go home. On the fifteenth he wrote a memo to the rangers still remaining under him in Bowie County. They included Ernest Daniel, Tully Seay, Stewart Stanley, and Joe Thompson. The memo read:

  IMPORTANT

  SPECIAL ATTENTION

  CONFIDENTIAL

  Supplementing my letter of instructions to you of July 23 1946, and with further reference to our recent discussions of the [Phantom’s crimes], at which time we concurred with each other in the opinion that it would not be detrimental to this investigation or cause a recurrence of said crimes if we reduced our force to a minimum on this assignment.

  As each of you know, at this time, we are now conducting investigations of suspects in connection with this matter in various parts of the State of Texas, and in other States, and are carefully checking the modus operandi of all similar crimes regardless of where they occur. Naturally, this requires Personnel, time, equipment, and much expense. We are receiving more requests for our services from Law Enforcement Officials than we can possibly handle with our limited personnel, equipment, and finances.

  In view of the above circumstances and in order that we may have a sufficient number of Personnel, equipment, and finances available to conduct other necessary and important criminal investigations and assignments, and due to the present status of this investigation, it is deemed advisable at this time to reduce our force on this assignment to a minimum, and in doing so we do not feel that we are jeopardizing the investigation, or our action should cause a recurrence of said crimes, nor should we receive undue criticism, for it is common knowledge that we have done everything humanly possible, on our part, to bring this investigation to a successful conclusion, and we will continue our untiring efforts.

  Unless an Emergency arises and you are otherwise instructed, the following named Rangers tennere [sic] of duty at Texarkana, Texas, Bowie County, will be as follows:

  Rangers Thompson and Stanley, Monday, August 19th to 26th, 1946.

  Rangers Daniel and Seay, Monday, August 26th to Sept. 2nd, 1946.

  Ranger Thompson, Monday, Sept. 2nd to 9th, 1946.

  Ranger Stanley, Monday, Sept. 9th to 16th, 1946.

  Ranger Daniel, Monday, Sept. 16th to 23rd, 1946.

  Ranger Seay. Monday, Sept. 23rd to 30th, 1946.

  After the completion of the period of the above assignments, which will be September 30, 1946, if no recurrences of these crimes or no important developments occur, and if it is not essential that a Ranger be stationed at Texarkana, Texas, Bowie County, this investigation will be handled in its entirety by Ranger Stewart Stanley, who is in charge of Sub-District No. 2, Company “B,” Texas Rangers, this Department, Clarksville, Texas, with the exception that he will be assisted by other Rangers when necessary upon his request, also occasionally, I will assign a Ranger to drop in to Texarkana, Texas, Bowie County, for a day or so for the purpose of his presence being known, looking the situation over, securing information, conducting investigations, etc.

  At this time I wis
h to call to your attention the importance of keeping strictly confidential the contents of this letter and our future plans for handling this investigation. This information should only be known to the Director, Assistant Director, Chief of the Bureau of Identification and Records, myself, and other members of Company “B,” Texas Rangers.

  In conclusion, I wish to express to each of you my sincere appreciation for the splendid cooperation shown, and for the untiring effort you have put forth, during this strenuous investigation, and I know that if each of you continue this cooperation and effort, this investigation, eventually, will be brought to a successful conclusion.1

  It sounded like surrender, and might well have roused the city’s populace to protest if the cut-backs were revealed, but was the ranger pull-out really “confidential”? Captain Gonzaullas, in his splendid finery, would certainly be missed when he returned to Dallas. The other rangers likewise, with their fancy pistols, boots, and Stetson hats, would be conspicuous in absence. And despite the Lone Wolf’s warning, local law enforcement must have known the rangers were retreating. Some, like Tillman Johnson, may have been relieved. A sudden scarcity of journalists around the Hotel Grim also alerted locals to the fact that they had lost America’s attention, pending the occurrence of some fresh atrocity.

  As we shall see, however, drawing back from Texarkana did not mean the case was “cold.” Rangers continued checking suspects from across the nation, running fingerprints, test-firing pistols, closely eyeing any robber-rapist who appeared to emulate the Phantom’s style to some degree. For years, rangers and local officers checked every Colt Model 1903 automatic they found in the course of their duties, without striking paydirt.2