-- . - jvKii-- hi a roundabout way; , i d ffU ' 7- of twymricnrrffi We detective Charles Wetherille reported for work at Minneapolis police head- quarters on Wednesday, May 5, 1948, he thumbed through the complaint records and found no major crimes on the books. But one report, outside the jurisdiction of the Minneapolis police, so intrigued him that he decided to follow it up. The crime had occurred the day before in Hamel, Minn., a crossroads community of 300, about 15 miles northwest Minneapolis. Customers were lined before tellers' windows and a policeman of stood near the entrance to the Farmers State Bank when a handsome, dark-hairyoung man strode in. He paused while his gaze swept the crowded bank and rested momentarily on the wall clock. It was almost 1 pjn. The man turned and walked out An hour later he was back ed with a companion, also handsome, with dark curly hair and a thin mustache. The policeman and all but one of the customers had left The young man, who appeared to be in his middle twenties, walked jauntily to the window of a vice president,' produced a Canadian dollar bill, and inquired about the exchange rate. Suddenly the other man-a- lso in his twenties but a t&W j5s " late-mod- Hamel, affording a dozen excellent escape routes. Which had the bank robbers taken? None of the witnesses knew. Roadblocks were set up and radio messages asked police in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and South Dakota to watch for the fugitives. That afternoon and night, Chev-role- ts el hundreds of were stopped, but none late-mod- contained the handsome young bandits. It seemed they had committed the perfect crime and vanished, leaving no tangible clues. It was generally agreed the pair were seasoned professionals. But Detective Wetherille (who is now Inspector in charge of all Minneapolis de- tectives) has always maintained that there is no such thing as a perfect crime. In this case, he soon found reason to believe the bandits were lucky amateurs: One man appeared at the bank twice, giving witnesses a double opportunity to remember him. Both men had loitered near the bank for an hour without trying to conceal themselves from witnesses. The car had been there long enough to give anybody a chance to jot down the license number. Wetherille was sure that not even the rankest amateur would have made this last mistake, unless the car were stolen, bore stolen plates, or had been rented. Suspecting that the bandits had taken refuge in Minneapolis, Wetherille checked the records at headquarters. No known bandit team fitted the descriptions; nor was there a record of a stolen Chevrolet or stolen license plates. Wetherille thumbed through al the records of four agencies without any luck. At the fifth, a young man named Bruce Lego had rented a el Chevrolet, returning it about midnight The attendant recalled that Lego car-rent- late-mod- was dark-hair- ed and hand- some, in his middle twenties, and walked jauntily. With 1 j. "N little taller and thinner whipped out a gun and announced a stickup. He ordered the customer, four employees, and the vice president to lie on the floor, and stood guard over them while his companion scooped up more than $20,000 in currency. Moments later, the two backed out the front door and made their escape. Police found witnesses who had noticed the two young el men seated in a Chevrolet parked near the bank for more than an hour. Now the Chevrolet was gone, and nobody had taken its license number. Half a dozen main highways converge and cross in w him was another dark-hairyoung man, about the same age but taller and thinner. He wore a thin mustache. ed Then Wetherille recalled Bruce Lego. Hie detective often prowled through downtown hotels, and he recalled seeing this handsome young man, often with a pretty blonde girL Wetherille made a routine inquiry at the desk and learned that Lego was a Marine veteran who was now in the hauling business. Lego had checked out early that morning and had left no forwarding address. What kind of hauling business was he in? The desk clerk thought he had a partner and that they brought produce and eggs to Minneapolis. Wetherille talked to half a dozen residents of the hotel who knew Lego. He asked particularly about the young mans habits. The answers convinced him he was on the right track. At the produce markets, Wetherille learned that Lego's partner was Irving Huggins, who lived on Queen Street Huggins wasn't home, but neighbors told Wetherille he lived there with his brother, Edgar, who sometimes drove the truck. One neighbor recalled that Edgar had mentioned he might make a trip to St Louis. This information was turned t . over to E. H. Notesteen, assistant agent in charge of the St Paul FBI office. Agents in St Louis were notified and began a search for the truck. They found it, with Edgar at the wheel, just five days after the robbery. Under the seat was $8,239 that Edgar admitted was loot from the bank stickup. What about his brother and Lego? Edgar said they had met him in St Louis and taken the rest of the money, using $1,500 to buy a car. They had headed west, but he didn't know where. Wetherille got busy again. He soon located Lego's blonde girl friend, who knew nothing of his criminal activities and agreed to help. Later that same night, she notified Wetherille that Lego ' had called her long distance. Notesteen had the call traced to a motel near Denver. There, a short time later, Lego and Irving Huggins were arrested. They were re- turned to Minneapolis, con- victed in Federal court, and sent to prison. Asked why he was so sure LegOjvas one of the bandits, Wetherille explained: "I wasn't until I talked to several of his friends. They all told me about his Canadian dollar and how he valued it as a good-luc- k piece. That was the tipoff." FimUy Weekly Mgzin, Jn J, 195 19