The Flip Side of History. Steve Silverman
of the missing Roberts was Robert Schultz, a frequent customer of the Green Parrot. He had been living in a nearby rooming house before suddenly packing up his bags and leaving town. Police were initially unable to locate Schultz, but then received a call from his landlady that he had returned. Schultz was then picked up and brought in for questioning. He denied any knowledge of the crime. It was confirmed that he arrived at his father’s farm in the Midwest the day after the crime occurred. The train ride took several days, which meant that he had to leave New York several days before Geller’s murder. That robber—I mean Robert—was crossed off their short list of suspects.
That left just one Robert as a possible suspect, a guy named Robert Butler. Butler operated a taxi stand a few doors down from the Green Parrot and disappeared on the night of the murder. His wife stated that he had grown frustratingly tired of operating a cab at night and didn’t come home one evening after work. She had not seen him since.
Butler’s wife seemed to have no concern that her husband had suddenly disappeared without a trace. The detectives suspected that he was still secretly in contact with her and worked with the postal service to track all of the mail addressed to Mrs. Butler, but none of it matched her husband’s handwriting.
One year after the murder occurred, police had still not located Robert Butler. Investigators were convinced that he was contacting his wife in some way, though they did not know how. The mail route was ruled out, and the couple did not have a phone.
Pagnucco suggested that the post office track the mail of Butler’s best friend, in case he was receiving the messages and passing them on to Butler’s wife. They received word that the friend had received a letter postmarked Baltimore, Maryland, but it lacked a return address. They needed to find out what was in that envelope, but if they opened it, Butler’s friend would have realized that his mail was being watched.
Instead, DA Pagnucco hatched a plan. They arrested Butler’s friend, claiming that he matched the description of a man suspected of assault and robbery. They brought the so-called suspect down to headquarters and told him that they were awaiting a positive ID from an eyewitness. In the meantime, they said they had to check all of his belongings to make sure he didn’t have the stolen loot on him. This was all a bunch of hooey, but they needed a way to get a look at that letter.
It was at this time that one of the detectives took a pile of papers out of the suspect’s pockets and spotted the letter with the Baltimore postmark in the stack. That detective quickly left the room to read the letter while another distracted Butler’s friend. Upon returning, he slipped the letter back into the pile of papers and said he couldn’t find anything.
After releasing the friend from custody, the detective who had read the letter confirmed that it was from a guy named Robert and contained information stating his whereabouts. He was working the midnight shift at Bethlehem Steel in Baltimore.
Off to Baltimore, Pagnucco and Morrisey went. They parked themselves right at the front gate of the plant. Hundreds of employees walked by the two men before they spotted Butler in the crowd.
As one would expect, Butler denied any involvement in Max Geller’s death. He claimed to have gotten into a fight with his wife that night and left her.
While on the train back to New York City, Butler questioned why they suspected him. Pagnucco asked “What do you think of Geller’s parrot?” to which Butler answered, “Smart bird.” The DA countered with “I’ll say. He’s the one that told us you did it.” This was followed by a few more sentences before Butler jumped in and said, “I never did like that bird.” He then confessed to the murder.
Butler said that on the morning of the murder, he had been part of a big dice game. A few of the players asked him for a loan but he refused, sensing that they would never return the money. These thugs, in turn, threatened Butler’s life. He retreated to his home and grabbed his gun, just in case they really did come after him. In an effort to calm his nerves, Butler turned to a bottle of alcohol.
Later that day, Butler finally stepped outside and went to the Green Parrot Bar & Grill. Seeing that his friend was already drunk as a skunk, Geller refused to serve him another drink. That was when Butler pulled the gun and fired at him.
On February 10, 1944, Butler was sentenced to seven to fifteen years in Sing Sing.
1917
Mrs. Anna Mallott filed a lawsuit in a Syracuse, New York, court against her neighbor, Mrs. Martha Traylor, for the alienation of the affections of her pet canary, Pete. She sought $500 (nearly $10,000 today) in damages.
Mrs. Mallott said that the canary had escaped from her home after she left the door open. In an effort to locate her lost pet, she placed advertisements in local newspapers and offered a reward for his return.
She argued that Mrs. Traylor was able to coax the canary into a cage and had been in possession of the bird ever since. Mrs. Mallott claimed that the bird was hers, “…for she has often heard it singing and knows its voice, but that she has been unsuccessful” in getting Mrs. Traylor to return Pete.
1949
A sad, yet unusual, human interest story that caught the attention of newspaper readers all across the United States.
On February 28, 1949, there was a new baby born into this world and her name was Alice. At six weeks of age, Alice would become national news.
Born in Houston, Texas, Alice lived with her dad, forty-five-year-old Clyde Emmitt Roco, at the Hou-Tex Grain company. Her home was incredibly unusual and made from 100 percent pure glass. In many ways, it was similar to a greenhouse, but significantly smaller. Specifically, Alice was being raised inside of a large glass bottle—an inverted 5-gallon (18.9 liter) water jug—similar to the plastic ones found atop water coolers today.
The thing is, Alice was, in fact, a feathered Dominique chicken. When she was a fuzzy baby, before anyone could determine if Alice was a he or a she, Roco made the decision to raise her inside of the bottle. Alice was placed on display inside the feed store, with a paper sign that read “Watch Me Grow” above her. As Alice grew larger, her weight was periodically recorded in the blank space on the sign.
Roco did make a few modifications to the bottle as Alice increased in size. First, small holes were drilled into it for increased air circulation. Once the glass home became a bit too constrictive for Alice to eat properly, he drilled a larger hole into its side. This allowed Alice to extend her head out through the opening and easily reach the two containers filled with fresh food and water.
Overall, Alice didn’t appear to be suffering in the slightest. She ate heartily, grew into a plump 2¼-pound (approximately 1 kg) bird, and clucked as all hens do. The only thing Alice couldn’t do was move around—she was confined to a glass prison cell.
Roco understood that not everyone would be happy with Alice’s living arrangements. He knew that, at some point, someone would become upset with how she was being raised. And he was right. Six separate complaints were filed with the local chapter of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA).
W. S. Poe, an SPCA commissioned officer, was dispatched to Roco’s feed store on April 13 to investigate. Upon his midafternoon arrival, Poe found exactly what had been described in the complaints: a chicken being raised in a glass water jug. Not long after he began his investigation, Poe stumbled over some potatoes and damaged them, and was thus forced to leave. He promised, “I’ll be back later.” Poe kept his word and upon his return, he tried to seize Alice and her glass enclosure, but employees at the store passed the bottle around in a “basketball fashion” to prevent him from taking possession. He left empty-handed.
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