DASTARDLY DADS FROM THE ARCHIVES (New York, New York - 1915)

Still have all kinds of interesting archival stories I've found recently that I just can't wait to share.

This one involves dad SAMUEL LIEBMAN, who threw his children, ages 8 and 5, down the airshaft of a New York tenement apartment. The girl later died, while the boy was left in critical condition. Dad was unemployed, while the mother was working in a sweatshop by day--and taking in sewing by night--to support the family. He also beat his wife and had threatened to kill the children before. In fact, the mother had just made out a complaint against him, and the father was due to appear in Domestic Relations Court. (Strangely enough for a modern reader, the charge was for non-support, not the abuse.)

While the historical details provide a richly different or foreign texture to this story, the pattern is very much the same as in contemporary cases involving killer fathers. Which is that they are often unemployed dads with histories of violence who have threatened to kill before.

However, one important difference does strike me. In a New York tenement building in 1915, there are no clueless neighbors describing the killer as a "nice guy." Sometimes I wonder if modern suburban living has made people truly stupid about the characters of other human beings. The other ladies in the tenement building certainly knew all about Leibman and what he was like as a husband and father--even though he had lived there for only six weeks! Maybe because neighbors really talked back then, so nobody truly managed to keep their troubles all to themselves.

From the New York Times, March 18, 1915

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?_r=1&res=9503E0DD123FE233A2575BC1A9659C946496D6CF

MAD FATHER DROPS CHILDREN 60 FEET

Samuel Liebman Hurls Son and Daughter Down Airshaft from Fifth Floor.

BOTH MANGLED, GIRL DIES

Mother, Who Had Quarreled with Husband, Arrives Just Too Late to Save Little Ones.

While his wife was out doing the breakfast marketing and their two children lay sleeping in an adjoining room, Samuel Liebman, 32 years old, a carpenter, stepped softly to the bedside of Sadie, his 8-year-old daughter, carried her to a window, and , and, opening it, hurled her to the bottom of a narrow airshaft, 60 feet below their flat on the fifth floor of 73 East Ninety-eighth Street, yesterday morning. Then he tip-toed back, and lifting up his 5-year-old son Sammy in his arms, carried him to the window and threw the boy to the basement in the same fashion.

Mrs. Bertha Liebman, her arms laden with rolls and milk for the family breakfast, returned a few moments later to find the tenement in an uproar. Liebman was gone. Several neighbors had heard the thud of the bodies as they fell between the tangle of clotheslines, and some of them hastened to the basement, while others crowded about the mother to tell her what had happened. She received the news unmoved.

"I knew he would do it," was her only comment as she led the way to where her children lay.

The boy and girl, both unconscious, were hurried to a near-by drug store and from there to the Mount Sinai Hospital, two blocks away. The girl's skull had been fractured, and many bones had been broken. She was rushed to the operating room, and after hovering between life and death, died in the hospital at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. They boy, who had both legs broken, besides being injured internally, was still alive last night, and there is still a chance that he will live.

Directly across the airshaft from the Liebman flat lives Miss Lube Rubeheim, who was at her window yesterday when the first child was flung from the window, almost within arm's reach. As the little girl disappeared, Miss Rubeheim shrieked, but before she had time to stir the second child was cast out of the window. When questioned by detectives later Miss Rubeheim said she was sure she recognized the man who held the infants as Liebman.

Mrs. Sarah Slafsky, who lives in the rear of the same floor with the Liebmans, said she was awakened by the screams of the other tenants and rushed to her door just in time to see Liebman bolt down the stairs.

"What's the matter?" she shouted, but the man made no answer. He made his escape from the house a few seconds before his wife returned from the grocery store across the street.

A general alarm was sent to the police of the greater city for the man's arrest. Within a few minutes after the tragedy reserves from the East 104th Street Station had thrown a cordon around the block, and every house was searched, but there was no trace of Liebman.

According to Mrs. Liebman, she and her husband had quarreled constantly since they moved into the flat six weeks ago. Liebman was out of work, and the wife was obliged to work in a sweatshop by day and take in sewing by night to support the family. Unable to endure her husband's treatment of her any longer, Mrs. Liebman made out a complaint against him, and he was to have appeared in the Domestic Relations Court yesterday to answer her charge of non-support.

The man, besides beating his wife, had frequently threatened to kill the two children, according to Mrs. Slafsky. On several occasions, Mrs. Slafsky said, Mrs. Liebman had come to her on her way to work with a request that she keep an eye on the children, whom she feared to leave alone in the flat with their father. Mrs. Slafsky asserted that she had stayed with the youngsters at their mother's request, but she had been abused by Liebman so often that of late she feared to enter the Liebman flat.

An immense crowd gathered about the house when the news of what had happened spread through the district. Many became excited and shouted threats against Liebman. It took the reserves half an hour to clear the streets and calm the more excited members of the crowd.

The fact that both children were not instantly killed was attributed to the maze of clotheslines through which they plunged. The air shaft, which is but 12 feet long by 6 feet wide, had a network of ropes at every floor, and these served to break the force of the fall to a great extent. Several lines parted with the weight.

Louis Lenoff, who lives of the third floor of 71 East Ninety-eighth Street, had a narrow escape. After the crash of the girl's body had aroused both tenements, Lenoff raised a window and leaned out into the airshaft to see what the matter was. At that instant the body of the boy shot past him. Lenoff dodged just in time to miss being hit, the youngster's nightdress grazing his head as it passed.