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Philadelphia Tribune On-line Edition - November 6, 1998
Chad G. Glover - Tribune Staff
For 41 years, no one knew his name, age, or where he was from. But last Tuesday his body was removed from its resting place in a Northeast Philadelphia cemetery and sent to the medical examiner's office in an effort to identify him using DNA testing.
Authorities called him the "Boy in the box" because they didn't have anything better to call him. No family members came forth to claim him. No neighbors lamented his absence on the city streets.
"Hopefully we can put a name on this little boy," said police Lt. Ken Gozzi in published reports. "Give him the respect and dignity that he deserves. And then find out who killed him."
The boy was found in 1957. His hair sloppily trimmed and his arms folded neatly on his chest. He was swaddled, nude, in a cheap flannel blanket.
His nails were trimmed and his bathed body lay peacefully in a cardboard box. In a nearby thicket lay a brand-new cap. It looked like someone had prepared him for burial, only to leave him in a trash-strewn lot.
His naked body was, however, covered with dark bruises. His eyes had been sealed shut, his eyeballs drawn deep into their sockets.
Medical examiners determined that he had died of blunt-force trauma. Police estimated that he was between 4- and 6-years-old.
His death shook Philadelphia. He came to embody lost innocence in an era characterized by sock-hops and "I Love Lucy." His tragic story was on the lips of every Philadelphian, but still no answers came. The leads the police did receive were eventually dead ends.
The "Boy in the box" was buried in a potters field beneath a marker reading, "Heavenly Father, Bless This Unknown Boy." With the exception of the chain of investigators who worked the case, Philadelphians eventually forgot about the boy. However, a forensic bust of the boy, and one portraying what his father may have looked like rekindled interest in the boy after it was aired on the Oct. 3 episode of "America's Most Wanted."
On Nov. 11, the boy will be reburied at Ivy Hill Cemetery under the name "America's Unknown Boy."
Public Graveside Services for "AMERICA'S UNKNOWN CHILD" were held 11 a.m. Wednesday Nov. 11th in Ivy Hill Cemetery, Mount Airy Section, Philadelphia.
The Vidocq Society offers its heartfelt and sincere thanks to the approximately 100 people who attended the burial services. If you are touched by this sad death, your gift, in the name of "America's Unknown Child" would be greatly appreciated by The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Washington, D.C.
National Center for Missing and Exploited Children
Unknown Child Fund
2101 Wilson Boulevard; Suite 500
Arlington, Virginia 22201-3077
1-800-THE-LOST
PHILADELPHIA, PA. - Public graveside services for "America's Unknown Child" were held on Wednesday, Nov. 11, 1998.
Among those participating in the services were; Ben J. Ermini, Director of the Missing Childrens Division at National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in suburban Washington, D.C.; Assistant Philadelphia District Attorney Charles Gallagher; Richard Costello, president of Philadelphia Lodge 5, Fraternal Order of Police; and Michael Lutz, president of the Pennsylvania State Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police.
Philadelphia Homicide Detective Thomas Augustine and all key members of the law enforcement team that is conducting the investigation into one of America's greatest crime mysteries also attended the graveside service, along with members of the Philadelphia FBI's Evidence Recovery Team.
On Nov. 3, 1998 Philadelphia Homicide Division detectives executed an Orphan's Court order that brought this baffling case to a new milestone. The court order directed law enforcement to exhume the child and, after testing, re-inter him in Ivy Hill Cemetery. The Vidocq (pronounced "Vee-Dock") Society is supporting the investigation. A retired Philadelphia police intelligence unit detective who was the second patrolman to respond to the crime scene in 1957 is among the Vidocq Society Members helping with the revivified police investigation.
America's Most Wanted featured the case on Oct. 3rd after the Vidocq Society convinced the Fox Television program that the child might be identified by someone outside of Philadelphia. As a result, numerous fresh leads have been received by Philadelphia Homicide detectives, leading to the exhumation and peaking investigator's hopes that a solution is possible for the decades-old case.
Craig Mann of the Mann Funeral Home (whose father originally buried the dead boy in 1957) donated the coffin, burial vault and funeral services. The cemetery donated the gravesite, according to David G. Drysdale Sr. and Jr., Ivy Hill Cemetery's managers. A beautiful serpentine black headstone is being donated by Lawrence F.M. Conroy of Cartledge-Gallagher-Stefan, Inc. of Cheltenham, Pennsylvania.
The Vidocq Society (
http://www.vidocq.org), established in 1990, is a non-profit organization of active and retired forensic, law enforcement and other experts who volunteer their services at no charge to help solve unsolved murders. Vidocq's office is at 1704 Locust Street in Philadelphia.Unknown Child Press Reports:
The Associated Press
Philadelphia Inquirer Nov. 12, 1998 Nov. 4, 1998
Philadelphia Daily News Nov. 12, 1998 Nov. 4, 1998
The Boy in the Box is reburied as America's Unknown Child
At least 100 attended to pay their respects to the unidentified boy, who was killed 41 years ago.
Philadelphia Inquirer
November 12, 1998
By Clea Benson
INQUIRER STAFF WRITER
The first time they buried him, 41 years ago, it was in the potter's field in the Far Northeast, a graveyard for executed prisoners, unidentified bodies, and body parts. The only people at the funeral were about a dozen police detectives and staff from the Medical Examiner's Office who had taken up a collection to help pay the expenses. His tombstone read, "Heavenly Father, Bless This Unknown Boy."
His grave, the only one with a marker in that Northeast Philadelphia burial ground, was lovingly tended by strangers who lived nearby.
Last week, four decades later, the tiny murder victim's body was exhumed so investigators could gather valuable DNA evidence.
Yesterday morning, just after the rain cleared, the child known only as the Boy in the Box was interred once again. This time, at least 100 people attended a graveside service as his tiny white casket stood against a backdrop of yellow leaves and blue sky near the elegant stone gates of the Ivy Hill Cemetery in Mount Airy.
At the head of the boy's grave stood a new, black granite marker, carved with a lamb and a new name, "America's Unknown Child."
"Today, we are re-interring him and calling him America's Unknown Child as a symbol of our nation's abused children, missing children, and murdered children," said William Fleisher, head of the Vidocq Society, an organization of forensic professionals who work on unsolved cases. "We are validating this little boy's life. Our mission is to go forward from this day and put a name on that tombstone."
People who long ago were touched by the story of the boy whose mangled body was found inside a cardboard box attended the burial as well. Some brought flowers.
Rita O'Vary, a school-bus driver and pony-ride operator from Boyertown, clutched a bouquet of blue carnations that she said was from the children who ride her bus.
"I was 10 when it happened," said O'Vary, 51. "My job revolves around children, and I never forgot him. The poor little guy. Somebody has to know who he is."
Nancy Whelan, also 51, came from Havertown to pay her respects. "Keep in mind that when we were kids, this kind of thing never happened," she
said. "I've prayed for him my whole life and I just felt compelled to let him know we didn't forget."
The Boy in the Box is a murder mystery that riveted the city when he was found on Feb. 25, 1957, and continues to confound investigators today.
A college student stumbled across the boy in a brown cardboard box left on top of a trash pile in a wooded area off of Susquehanna Road in Fox Chase. There were few clues to his identity. He was clean, and his fine, blond hair had been crudely cut. Authorities believe he was 3 to 5 years old. Bruises covered his body, and the Medical Examiner ruled that he had died of blunt-force trauma.
The investigation was reopened recently by Homicide Detective Tom Augustine, retired Philadelphia Police Detective Sam Weinstein, and Fleisher of the Vidocq Society. Last month, a story on the boy aired on America's Most Wanted, generating hundreds of new leads that the investigators are following.
As part of the renewed effort, authorities dug up the boy's remains so they could take DNA samples in the hope that new genetic technology could lend a clue to his identity. Investigators said the DNA evidence would allow them to positively link somebody or rule somebody out.
However, they have no leads.
Yesterday, an African Methodist Episcopal minister, a priest, and a rabbi gave prayers for the boy, and a bagpiper played a mournful tune. Weinstein recited kaddish, his voice breaking at times. When he was finished, he walked to his seat next to Augustine's, and the two men embraced.
The cemetery donated the gravesite. The Mann Funeral Home, which provided services the first time the boy was buried, did so again and donated the casket.
Weinstein, who was the second patrol officer on the scene when the boy's body was found, recalled looking at the child's face as he lay in the box.
"I saw all his pain and his suffering and his anguish," Weinstein said. "It was as though he was speaking to me: 'What happened?' 'Why?' And that was an answer I couldn't give."
The Funeral - Phila. Daily News
Date: 11/12/98
Boy in box gets fitting burial
Today, we're declaring him 'America's Unknown Child'
<B>by Marisol Bello
Daily News Staff Writer
Everybody wants to claim the unknown boy in the box.
The frail, blond boy's battered and nude body was found in a trash-strewn lot in the Northeast.No one knows his age or where he's from.
Yesterday, probers who've been trying to discover the boy's identity, tried to give him back some dignity by moving his remains from his pauper's grave to a special place at the entrance of Ivy Hill Cemetery in Cedarbrook.
But residents of the Parkwood section of the Far Northeast, where the boy's body had rested in Potter's Field for 41 years, are upset that the body was moved. They tried unsuccessfully to keep the remains.
For them, the child had become part of their neighborhood. Adults grew up visiting the child's grave. School children trekked to the grave to leave flowers and trinkets.
"He's always been here," said Sue Fisher, 48, who grew up in Parkwood and remembers going with her mother as a child to clean up the gravesite. "He's been a part of my life since I was 7 years old."
"We want to pay homage to the little boy who never had a chance while he was alive," said Sam Weinstein, 72, a retired Philadelphia police detective who was the second officer on the scene when the boy's body was found.
About 100 mourners silently gathered as a bagpiper played "Going Home."
Four pallbearers, including Weinstein and a retired officer who took the original radio call in 1957, carried the wooden casket from a hearse to the gravesite.
Catholic, Protestant and Jewish clergymen offered prayers for the boy. The casket, headstone, funeral services and burial plot were all donated.
"Today, we're declaring him 'America's Unknown Child,' " said William Fleisher, commissioner of the Vidocq Society, a crime-solving organization made up of forensic professionals. Weinstein and Fleisher are working with Philadelphia detectives to crack the decades-old case.
Last week, investigators exhumed the boy's body to try to test his remains for DNA in hopes that it may lead to his identity. The case received new attention last month when the television show "America's Most Wanted" featured a segment on the boy. The Daily News has offered a $5,000 reward for information about his identity.
Lead homicide detective Tom Augustine said the department has since received more than 200 calls from all over the country and Canada. The case has always captivated the city. The boy was found during a time when it was rare for a child to be left for dead in a vacant lot.
The 30-pound, 40-inch boy was between 3 and 5 years old. His body, covered with bruises, was wrapped in a blanket then placed in a cardboard box. Over the years, detectives chased thousands of leads. They're still not any closer to learning the boy's name.
Yesterday, Weinstein remembered the bare-bones funeral held for the child in 1957 when a group of officers and detectives donated money to buy him a small headstone. A detective donated one of his son's suits for the boy.
Weinstein watched as the remains were lowered into the ground for the final time. As the casket disappeared from view, he gave the boy a military salute
.
Philadelphia Daily News
February 25, 1999
I REMEMBER...February 25, 1957
The still-mysterious 'Boy in the Box'
The young boy, between three and five years old, had been placed in the large cardboard box with care. His hair was freshly cut and nails neatly clipped. He had been bathed recently and his arms folded across his chest before his lifeless, nude body was carefully wrapped in a blanket.
That was the macabre sight greeting the investigators that I accompanied into the woods off Susquehanna Road, near Verree, in Fox Chase 42 years ago today, and the beginning of the mystery of "the Boy in the Box" that endures to this day.
Regrettably, it is a mystery that a generation of investigators may take to their own graves.
One of those investigators was Remington Bristow, who followed us to the scene on that blustery late winter day and became obsessed with who the youngster might be, how he died and how he ended up in a large cardboard box.
Rem Bristow had seen countless murder victims in his 19 years as an investigator for the medical examiner's office. He was a master at attaching names to people who had gone to their maker without an identity.
He retired in 1975 after pursuing thousands of leads about who the boy might be. All but one were dead ends. Bristow kept coming back to one family who he felt might have known about the boy, but he was unable to develop the lead.
Bristow acknowledged that there were bruises on the boy's forehead, but felt the child's death was natural or accidental, not a homicide. Whoever put the boy in the box may have been poor, given the shabbiness of the blanket, and may have been frightened away while looking for a place to bury him.
"There was a show of love, not disrespect," he said of the careful manner in which the boy was laid out.
Six months to the day he was found, we buried the boy in a small plot, Grave 191, at the city cemetery in the Parkwood section of the Far Northeast. For years, it was the only one with a tombstone, paid for by Bristow and the other investigators who worked on the case. "Heavenly Father, Bless This Unknown Boy," the tombstone read.
"It was a very sad occasion," Bristow said of the burial. "The hardest thing in the world is to bury a child. No matter how tough we were, what we saw during the course of our jobs, when it came to burying that child we all had a weak spot."
Police continue to pursue leads. The boy's body was exhumed in November for DNA tests following a segment about the child on the "America's Most Wanted" television show, and we reburied him in Ivy Hill Cemetery in Cedarbrook.
May the boy in the box rest in peace.
|
American Way |
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The little-known Vidocq Society reopens old police files in an effort to make sure criminals don't get away with murder |
By Ken Englade
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The room reeks of money and power: Soft, subdued lighting; walls paneled with irreplaceable aged walnut lovingly buffed to a rich patina; tables covered with crisp, white linen. The crowd -- mostly male, mostly late thirties and up, conservatively attired in dark, well-tailored suits and expensive silk ties, possibly corporate CEOs or CFOs, bankers, insurance executives, or successful brokers -- hovers around the massive bar, conversing amiably in hushed, cultured tones. At a signal they move to their places. Tuxedoed waiters bustle about, bringing garden salad, braised breast of chicken, baked potato, steaming rolls fresh from the oven. Gradually, the friendly colloquy dwindles as attention shifts to the head of the room. A picture, several times life-size, pops up on a screen which has been set up behind a lectern. It is a head and shoulders shot of a hard-looking woman aged somewhere between 30 and 40. Her face is swollen, the skin mottled with ugly, purple bruises. We are told that her name is Susan, and that the slide was taken shortly after she had been roughed up by her boyfriend. Another image fills the screen. It is a long shot showing Susan, clad now in a blue and white blouse with a haunting skull-and-crossbones motif, stretched across a rumpled motel room bed. It is obvious that she is dead. Other slides follow in rapid succession. They increasingly graphic. One shows a needle-tracked arm; another is a close-up of Susan's face. Sightless eyes; painful-looking contusions including a shiner that glows with near neon brilliance. Officially, Susan died of a drug overdose. But did she really? During the presentation, lunch continues as usual. The waiters flit about in apparent unconcern, serving carrot cake and freshly brewed Colombian. No one among the hundred or so people witnessing the presentation flinches at the gruesome illustrations. No one winces; no one pushes away dessert as the talk turns grisly. Instead, the diners are fascinated, expectant. This is, after all, what they came to see. Everyone in the room, except for fewer than a half-dozen special guests there by special invitation, is connected to a group called the Vidocq Society, an exclusive, Philadelphia-based organization that few beside law enforcement professionals or dedicated crime buffs have ever heard of. The Society was created almost a decade ago, the brainchild of three men well known in criminal justice circles: William Fleisher, a former police officer, FBI agent, and Customs Service administrator; Frank Bender, a forensic reconstructionist whose work is recognized by professional crime fighters around the world, and Richard Walter, a forensic psychologist and criminal "profiler." Named after Eugène-François Vidocq (pronounced vee-DUCK), a mysterious Frenchman born in 1775 who was both a convicted criminal and a prominent, early member of the organization that evolved into Sûreté, the internationally known French police force, the Society is unique both in purpose and configuration. By decree of its founders, the Society is limited to precisely 82 men and women, a semi-secret list of law enforcement professionals, each of whom has to be voted into membership much as others are accepted into a country club. The number was chosen because each member represents one year of Vidocq's adventure-filled life. After realizing they had more requests for membership than they had openings, an "associate " category was created. Currently, the Society has some 70 associate members. Counting both regular members and associates, the Society has representatives in 17 states and 11 foreign countries, from Asia to the Middle East, Canada to South America. In theory, the Society's goal is simple. Its creators envisioned it as a group that would use the members' centuries of combined experience to help solve extra-violent crimes, murders and abductions in which the victim was killed. However, there is a gap between principle and practice. Since group members are either retired or come from widespread jurisdictions (in fact, around the world) they would lack authority to actively take part in a local investigation. As a result, the group acts only in an advisory capacity. The way it works is this: Every case in which the Society becomes involved has whiskers. That is, each has been around long enough to be taken off the active list and shoveled into the "unsolved" file. Most cases considered by the Society are five, ten, or fifteen years old. In taking this stance, the Society is protecting itself from possible criticism of unwanted interference by local investigators, who tend to be quite territorial. The importance of this condition is further underlined by the fact that the Society accepts only cases brought to them by a local investigator, a member of the family of the victim, or a family representative, such as a private investigator or other law enforcement professional. Potential cases, whether they come from frustrated lawmen or relatives, are put before members at a Society luncheon. These presentations commonly are graphic and usually are accompanied by dialogue that non-law enforcement people might find unsettling. This is one of the reasons why the sessions are closed to the public. Once the presentation is complete, Society members who are present vote on whether to become involved. Associates, despite their affiliation, are not given a voice. Because everyone affiliated with the Society is a volunteer, plus the fact that the Society has only limited funds, it can accept only a small percentage of the cases it is asked to take on. Even then, the degree of Society involvement varies widely, often consisting only of a review of available documents. However, this can be quite effective, as it was in the case of Deborah Lynn Wilson, a student at Philadelphia's Drexel University, whose barefoot body was found in a campus basement hallway in 1984. She had been beaten and strangled to death. Despite a full-press investigation, detectives were unable to find a viable suspect or come up with a plausible motive for her murder. Eight years later, the Society was invited to look at the paperwork. Following a review, the group made a very simple but hugely practical suggestion: In view of the fact that the woman was barefoot investigators should cross-check the records of university staff members to see if any had ever been suspected of suffering from a foot fetish. Using this hint as the basis for a new avenue of exploration, investigators discovered a campus security guard who once had been court-martialed for stealing women's sneakers. In 1995, almost a decade after Wilson was murdered, the guard was convicted of killing her Since the Society is headquartered in Philadelphia and many of its members live in the area, Pennsylvania and New Jersey cases get more attention. However, the Society has become involved successively in investigations in cities as distant as Lubbock, Texas, and Little Rock, Arkansas. Because the degree of Society involvement can swing so drastically -- begging the question of what is involvement -- it is virtually impossible to say precisely how many investigations it has taken part in or what the results have been. Also, given the tendency by some local officials to resent the Society's intervention, the group must tread a fine line. Sometimes, apparently fearful of being embarrassed, local officials deny that the Society has played a role, significant or otherwise, in solving a crime. In such situations, the Society usually keeps quiet about its participation, preferring anonymity to a public argument. On the other hand, some overworked investigators welcome the group's participation. Take, for instance, what is the Society's hottest current case, a 42-year-old Philadelphia murder that has been publicized nationally in newspapers and on tv programs ranging from Dan Rather's nightly news to the popular "America's Most Wanted." Known as the Boy in the Box Murder, it centers around the killing of a blond-haired, blue-eyed child somewhere between 3 and 5 years old whose body was found in a suburban wood on February 26, 1957. Despite huge efforts, the boy has never been identified and investigators have never developed a serious suspect. Late in 1998, the Society - at the request of the Philadelphia Police Department - accepted the case for review. Currently, there are three Society volunteers -- all retired Philadelphia officers with a total of almost 150 years experience -- working with homicide detective Thomas Augustine to try to resolve the four-decade old mystery. While some investigators might resent the Society's presence, Augustine -- who can devote his time only when he is not investigating an active murder - is thankful for the assistance. "Am I upset by their participation? Absolutely not," Augustine says emphatically. "I can use all the help I can get and those guys are great. Really wonderful." |
The Boy in the Box
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After 42 years, Sam Weinstein wants to fulfill a vow. On February 26, 1957, the then 31 year-old patrolman was dispatched to a lonely wood in suburban Philadelphia to investigate a report of an abandoned body. As the second officer on the scene, what he found made a permanent impression. Inside a battered cardboard carton that once contained a bassinet from J.C. Penny's was the nude, blanket-wrapped body of a boy somewhere between 3 and 5. Although a coroner later determined that he had been beaten to death, x-rays failed to disclose any previous fractures, which would have demonstrated a history of abuse. To the contrary, there were indications the boy had been relatively well cared for. His toe and finger nails were neatly clipped; his hair was trimmed in a tidy but unprofessional buzz cut, and the cloth that cloaked him had been newly washed. This only deepened the mystery. Despite a huge effort by Philadelphia Police Department, investigators were never able to identify the boy or find anyone who could be seriously labeled as a suspect in his murder. With a cold rain soaking him to the skin, Weinstein stared at the boy's body and promised himself that he would do everything he could to find the killer. During his 40 years with the Philadelphia Police Department Weinstein was never able to fulfill that pledge. When Weinstein retired in 1985 he thought he would never have another crack at the case. But that was before he got involved with a group called the Vidocq Society. In 1998, the Society led a movement to exhume the boy's body from the potter's field where it had been buried soon after it was found in order to extract DNA, theorizing that the genetic material could later be used to match with that of a surviving relative, provided one could be found. The group, at the request of the Philadelphia Police Department, also adopted the case as one it would actively investigate. Weinstein, a still-spry 73, volunteered to spearhead the Society's effort. For 14 months, Weinstein has been working to help resolve the mystery. For much of that time, he was working alone. Now, however, he has been joined by two other retired cops, Joseph McGillen and William Kelly. Together, they are sifting through six large storage boxes of material that has accumulated in the case, plus trying to track down hundreds of written and telephoned tips about the boy that have come in since the case was featured on the popular tv show "America's Most Wanted" last October. Frustratingly, most of the leads have gone nowhere. But the search continues. What Weinstein wants more even than finding the killer is to identify the boy. "He is entitled to a name," Weinstein says sadly, something more than the "America's Unknown Child" that is engraved in the new, black granite marker on the boy's new grave, a memorial that was paid for and erected by the Vidocq Society late last year. |
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