Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-04-04
YSTERY OF LAZARUS STEIN,
A STORY OF CHICAGO.


lice headquarters were then in the old
"tank," or, as it was more Familiarity
called, the 'rookery," the present site,
by the way, of one of Chicago's most
magnificent business blocks, which in a
spirit of cynical remembrance Of its
shabby predecessor still bears the name
of "The Rookery." How much Of Chi
cago's history was made within those
rickety old walls; what a resort it was,
the old City Hall, for thieves, politicians,
detectives, adventures; how man con-
spiracies were Matched there, how many
crimes ferreted outi Locked up in many
souls to-day are scraps Of its secret his
tory; only now and then some torn page
of a suppressed sensation or romance fut-
tiers out of the dusty lumber-room Of
memory.
1t was without expectation of chan
cling upon anything startling in the way
of news that Harry Weston strolled in
that Sunday afternoon by way of the
blind alley on Clark street, near the
Grand Pacific. Only reporters, officers,
or fire-alarm operators used this passage
way or knew that it was the most direct
cut to the Department of Police. The
day squad room was empty and cheer
less. 1t was here that the portly officers
who guard street crossings answered
roll-cau and received their orders twice
a day; in the night it belonged to the
little band of reporters who worked
through the small hours that the break
fast-tables of Chicago might be RECALLED
with the murders, assaults, fires, and ac-
cidents of the hours of darkness. Those
old Bohemian nights, with their stories,
their adventures, their riValries In the
hot quest for news, their ever-varying
round of sights-quaint, terrible, and
humorous-shall we forget them? No;
not though we tired on velvet carpets or
lounge in coy parlOrs, or taste after the
turbulent years the delights of quiet
home life-which not many of us do.
And the old gang Gas the boys called
themselves have scattered-some Sleep
ing where the turf cools the pulses and
dulls the sharp ear to the noisy world;
some fooling with the tiger, other wrest-
ling with the wolf, and some, alas! mar
RED.
The youngest but not the least ambi-
hous or keen-sCented of the lot was the
chap who now sat down at the press-desk
in the big room and began turning over
the reports, which since morning had
been received from all the outlying sta
tons in the city. There was the usual
grist of petty larcenies, fires, and arrests,
and he threw them aside one by one till
sheet with the glaring letter-head-
HARRISON STREET POLICE STATION
caught his eye and effectually held his
attention.
1t was written in the school-boy, labor
ed hand of the average desk-sergeant,
and, emitting some slight infelicities of
syntax, it ran as follows:
At s o'clock this morning, as Officer J.
O'Brien was passing the three-story frame
house No. oil Dexter street, near South
Clark. he was called by the landlord, who
lives on the first floor, and informed that
man was dead on the third story. On 60
ing upstairs the officer found in the room
facing the street the body of Lazarus Stein,
an old man probably 67 years of age. He
was lying crOsswise on the bed, his face to
the east. His ankles and wrists were loose
" tied together by old scraps of clothing
He was completely covered with a quilt.
From a cursOry examination there were no
marks of violence on the body. The room
looked as if it were ransacked, but whether
robbed or not it is nard to tell, as many
yaluables were found scattered about
The room and its contents will be guarded
pending the investigation of the Coroner.
Respectfully submitted.
Ten minutes after he had read this the
young man was climbing up the creak-
ing stairs of the shabby tenement in
Dexter street. The grimy old place
smacked more of st. Giles in London
than Of Chicago. Its dirtiness and
viciousness struck the visitor as pictur-
esque. "Well. wonder what I'm going
to strike here?" he murmured as he
reached the top flight and knocked at
the door of the first room. Agruff voice
said: "Come in"
He entered and his eyes rested on a
German policeman sitting near a little
rusty stove and putting at one of the vile
cigars that are sold nowhere outside the
Chicago Levee. "Hello, Christ said
Harry, genlally; ''rather a nasty job you
have there. Try fresh smoke"
He lit cigar himself, for the smell of
the place was sickening in its composite
suggestiveness, and then looked about
him. To his right, as he stood near the
door, was the bed, the outlines of a
shrunken body showing beneath the
quilt. The legs, clothed in ragged gray
pantaloons, and the feet, incased in tat
tered CATERS, hung over the side, for the
position of the body, as described in the
police report, was lateral. The face was
entirely covered. The ankles were tight
ly bound together.
lis that the way he was found" asked
Harry.
"Yaw, me poy," said Chris, getting up
with good-natured grunt; ''you want
TO see his mug, ehg
Harry nodded. The officer opened a
blind and let in the something that passes
for sunlight in a Smoke-CurSed city.
Then he slowly drew the quilt from the
face and downward to the waist. Dirt,
age, and death made the features of the
old dead man CHASTITY in the fitful light.
a strained expression, whether of pain
or horror, or both combined, had not yet
faded into the stony ineXpressiveness OF
death. A close observer it would pow
fully impress; a casual one would dismiss
it as fancy. 1t struck Harry Weston
in an instant; Chris did not notice it al
ALL The nose was HebraiC; the upper
lip shaven; from the chin long, stray
Cling, gray beard drifted to the breast,
The body had neither coat nor vest; only
a coarse wooden shirt. Brown, mummy
like, claw-lille hands were crossed, list
lesSly, as if they had fallen that way by
accident. But around the wrists was 8
piece of torn cloth like that around the
ankles, only that it was not knotted, il
was half-tied, and the slightest movement
of the muscles could throw it off.
''I've seen that face before" said Har
~; Il have seen him somewhere. either
in the streets at midnight or roofing
about the ash barrels in the morning. II
doesn't matter where. Cover it up"
The officer carefully replaced the quilt
in the exact position in which it was be-
fore, and the visitor looked about the
room A few old battered trunks, ar
unused wash-bowl, where dust had &C
cumulated, some broken furniture-ther'
was nothing more in this howell of {
room. Opposite the side on which wa.
the bed and toward the other end of the