On February 11, 1919, the Philadelphia Inquirer’s front page headlined several important news stories. The first concerned world diplomacy relating to the end of World War I: “Drastic Terms Demanded for Armistice Renewal…” The second was about the failure of American women to get the right to vote: “Suffragists Lose Vote in Senate By One Vote,” and “Leading Suffragettes Denounce Senate Vote.” The third big story was about a new kind of technology, enabling a new kind of crime: “Motor Bandits Get Furs Worth $5000; Terrorize W. Phila.” The subhead continued: “Band in Limousine Loot Baltimore Avenue Store. Believed to Be Same Which Operated in Vicinity of Sixty-second and Race Streets.”
In a rapidly-changing world, the automobile made so many things possible: goods and services could be transported to places not reachable by train or horse carriage. People could travel to visit family and friends; they could explore new places and shop outside of the city; they could commute to jobs and to leisure activities. And, inevitably, there were those who saw other ways to exploit the new technology. The news story continued:
“Motor bandits — believed by the police to have been the same who were frustrated in an evident plot to hold up storekeepers in the vicinity of Sixty-second and Race Streets just as they were closing after midnight Sunday morning – made a $5000 haul just twenty-four hours later from the fur store of Henry T. Amlung at 4810 Baltimore avenue.
Discovery of the thieves in the very act of transferring furs from the store to a waiting automobile led to an alarm which saved the balance of the stock, valued at close to $50,000.
Fifteen minutes more of uninterrupted work, the police said, and the daring bandits would have entirely cleared out the store.
As it was, they worked with the utmost daring, apparently confident that they had little to fear from the police, who are supposed to be making such a thorough patrol of the streets both uniformed and in plain clothes.
The robbery occurred about one-thirty o’clock yesterday morning, heading a long list of others in practically all parts of the city, which Assistant Director Harry C. Davis, Superintendent of Police Robinson, and their subordinates were unable to keep quiet despite the rigid news censorship under which an effort is being made to hide the city-wide depredations.
Mrs. Letitia Hanganer, who occupies an apartment on the third floor of 4808 Baltimore Avenue, directly adjoining the Amlung establishment, first heard the robbers at work, but thought it was Amlung trying to enter his store and for a few moments returned to bed.
She had been attracted to her window by the noise of someone in the adjoining sideyard below. She thought Amlung had locked the store up leaving his key inside, and was trying to re-enter by the window.
A few minutes later she was again attracted by the same noise, this time accompanied by the subdued voices of men. She returned to the window and for a moment was struck speechless by witnessing one man tossing furs out of the window, and into the arms of an accomplice, who was putting them into a limousine automobile exactly resembling the description of that given of the car used the night before by supposed colored highwaymen, who hurried from the vicinity of Sixty-second and Race streets after an alarm had been given.
Mrs. Hanganer could not discern whether the men robbing Amlung’s place were white or colored.
However, she awakened William Brooke, who conducts a tailoring establishment on the first floor of 4808 Baltimore avenue, and he ran to a second-floor window, shouting at the thieves.
Without abandoning the bundle of furs they then had in their arms the men dashed for their car, clambered in and fled.
The police traced them no further than their route was known to a conductor and motorman, who said they saw the car drive east on Baltimore avenue as far as Forty-fifth street, at which point it might either have turned or continued on toward the central part of the city.”
The article went on to list a number of other recent crimes and thefts in the city, and suggested that the police were grossly ineffective, though, to be fair, they were on foot-patrol and the thieves had superior technology. The following day, February 12, 1919, the Philadelphia Inquirer reported another significant burglary, this time at “the tailoring establishment of Joseph Germano at 205 South Ninth street. Their loot, in bolts of cloth, amounted to a value of $1500…There were evidences, the police said, that this was but another depredation by the same gang of motor bandits which, on the preceding night, looted the fur stores of A. Amlung (sic) at 4810 Baltimore avenue.” Curiously, both victims were of German background; whether that was significant, just after the war, is unclear: Philadelphia had a lot of German immigrants.
“Motor bandit” crimes became an issue that continued to plague the city through 1920, but the term quickly lost its uniqueness and its capitalization, as it was recognized as a new class of crime, committed by ever growing numbers of criminals, large and small. The police invested in new crimefighting equipment in order to keep up. On December 23, 1920 the Inquirer reported that
“Philadelphia’s Christmas presents for motor bandits are ready. Here they are:
One hundred and fifty armed motorcycles, most of them with sidecars.
Six fast automobiles for bandit-chasing owned by the city and a fleet of privately owned automobiles at the call of the police.
A stack of short-range sawed-off shotguns, each pumping six shells of buck shot in rapid succession…”
The sawed-off shotguns were thought to be a kinder and gentler approach to crimefighting than the submachine guns proposed in New York City to deal with its similar automotive crime wave.
Apparently, the public still needed to be convinced that new police equipment was justified. In November 1923, the Philadelphia Inquirer reported: “Value of an automobile in the hands of the police in combatting raids by automobile bandits was conclusively proven last night,” when motor bandits attempted to rob the house of John Lafferty at 5026 Master Street, but police, using a car loaned by William Brennan of 4835 Lancaster Avenue, were able to give chase. The bandits had a faster, larger vehicle, and got away around 51st and Lancaster Ave., but the effort was considered a success, as a crime was prevented. Another article on the same page reported on a conference with police and mayor: “An interesting development of the day was the loan to the police of the station at Fifty-fifth and Pine streets of two fast automobiles for the purpose of waging war upon the motor bandits who have been particularly active in the Forty-sixth ward. Owners of garages made the loan and other cars will be available if the police need them.”
At this point, one might wonder about some of the thefts, which seemed a little bulky: furs might be disposable, but why steal bolts of cloth? In an age when people did a lot of sewing, and readymade clothing was a luxury, cloth was an important household item. The North Western Christian Advocate, Chicago, Illinois, December 31, 1919, offered some editorial insight on a similar cloth-related crime wave, in that large city:
“Chicago is passing through a ‘crime wave’ of tidal proportions. Formerly burglars confined themselves to loot that could be hastily cast into a bag and carried away on their own. But the automobile and auto truck have made it practical to steal anything up to a department store and get away with it. Consequently, tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of furs, dress goods, bolts of cloth, etc., are constantly being carted off, day as well as night. These partial stocks are brought back to the market and sold with evidently no devices in operation to discover the crime. Who buys this stolen stock? Here is an evident weakness in our system of crime detection. It should be made so difficult, if not impossible, to dispose of stocks that cannot be properly accounted for that such burglaries would automatically cease. If the burglar can’t be caught, break down his ‘fence.’”
A 1920 criminal case in Chicago offers further insight. The story is lengthy and convoluted, but the gist is that bolts of a distinctive silk cloth were thought to have been stolen from a train car during a stop. Two immigrant Lithuanian train servicemen were arrested after some of the material was found in their homes. Their wives claimed to have purchased the silk, cheaply, on a street in Chicago, known for its fabric stores. The court reported that trade on that street “is mostly with foreigners. Peddlars sell cloth on the street, and the Polish people buy more than they need when it is cheap and hold it.” The accused ultimately were released after it turned out no one ever verified that the cloth was actually loaded onto the train at its point of origin! Looking down the tunnel of history, such crime stories are laden with suspicion of indiscriminately-labeled immigrants buying and selling, informally, in foreign languages, on street corners; and racism.
So, in an unsettled age, during recovery after a world war, and with different groups struggling for rights and acceptance, we have the advent of new technology – the motor car – which has many benefits, but also provides temptation for anyone with a criminal mind, driving ability, and access to a vehicle. Motor vehicle theft became a recognized issue a little later. Law enforcement was slow to appreciate the scope of the problems and slow to budget for the equipment needed to keep up with the more enterprising criminals – even before Prohibition was passed and whole new areas of illegal activity opened up!
Street of History Philadelphia 