Editor's Note: This is a classic account of the death of notorious gangster John Dillinger, dubbed Public Enemy No. 1, who was ambushed by federal agents on July 22, 1934, outside Chicago's Biograph theater. Dillinger was imprisoned several times and escaped twice. His gang was believed responsible for 24 bank heists during the Great Depression. Dillinger was also accused of gunning down a police officer.
By Jack Lait
International News Service
John Dillinger, ace bad man of the world, got his last night - two slugs through
his heart and one through his head. He was tough and he was shrewd, but
wasn't as tough and shrewd as the Federals, who never close a case until the
end. It took twenty-seven of them to end Dillinger's career, and their strength
came out of his weakness - a woman.
Dillinger was put on the spot by a tip-off to the local bureau of the
Department of Justice. It was a feminine voice that Melvin H. Purvis, head of
the Chicago office, heard. He had waited long for it.
It was Sunday, but Uncle Sam doesn't observe any NRA and works seven
days a week.
The voice told him that Dillinger would be at a little third-run movie
house, the Biograph, last night - that he went there every night and usually got
there about 7:30. It was almost 7:30 then. Purvis sent out a call for all men
within reach and hustled all men on hand with him. They waited more than an hour. They knew from the informer that he must come out, turn left, turn again
into a dark alley where he parked his Ford-8 coupe.
Purvis himself stood at the main exit. He had men on foot and in parked
inconspicuous cars strung on both sides of the alley. He was to give the signal.
He had ascertained about when the feature film, Manhattan Melodrama, would end. Tensely eying his wristwatch he stood. Then the crowd that always streams out when the main picture finishes came. Purvis had seen Dillinger when he was brought through from Arizona to Crown Point, Indiana, and his heart pounded as he saw again the face that has been studied by countless millions on the front pages of the world.
Purvis gave the signal. Dillinger did not see him. Public Enemy No. 1 lit
a cigarette, strolled a few feet to the alley with the mass of middle-class citizens going in that direction, then wheeled left.
A Federal man, revolver in hand, stepped from behind a telegraph pole at
the mouth of the passage. "Hello, John," he said, almost whispered, his voice
husky with the intensity of the classic melodrama. Dillinger went with lightning
right hand for his gun, a .38 Colt automatic. He drew it from his trousers pocket.
But, from behind, another government agent pressed the muzzle of his service revolver against Dillinger's back and fired twice. Both bullets went through the bandit's heart.
[Photos: Public Domian]
