Nebraska's Missing Public Enemy: The Last of the Ghost Gang

By Brian James Beerman

In 1934, a band of desperadoes known as the Ghost Gang terrorized bankers across the state of Nebraska with a series of daring robberies. A posse of lawmen traced the gang to a Gage County ghost town, and the hideout was raided on a cold November night. One by one, all the members of the gang faced prison or death, until only Maurice Denning remained at large. Denning, the son of a respectable farm family, had drifted into bootlegging and, ultimately, bank robbery. For ten years, he was at the top of the FBI's list of Public Enemies, but incredibly, he was never found. Although rumors about his whereabouts swirled for decades, his final fate remains a mystery. In this book, writer and researcher Brian James Beerman brings the fascinating true story of the most wanted man in Nebraska back to light and recounts the circumstances surrounding his mysterious disappearance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The History Press
• Release date: Aug 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781439667743

Brian James Beerman

Born and raised in Nebraska, Brian James Beerman is a graphic artist, writer and researcher. This is his first book.

Book preview

Author

Prologue

NEBRASKA’S PUBLIC ENEMY NO. 1

One of the most notorious bank robbers at large.

In the summer of 1936, a man unknown to most Americans was named Public Enemy No. 1—a title recently held by such notorious criminals as John Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson and Alvin Creepy Karpis. Known to his companions as Bubbles or Blondie, he was known to J. Edgar Hoover, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as Maurice Denning: gunman, desperado and one of the most notorious bank robbers at large.¹ Denning was said to be very neat and clean in his personal habits, usually well-dressed and always clean-shaven. He did not smoke or chew tobacco and never drank liquor, although he was known to have a glass of beer or two on rare occasions. He possessed a pleasant and likable disposition, which made it easy for him to make friends, and had no known enemies. Despite all this, the FBI warned, he was known to be extremely dangerous and vicious at times. With members of his gang, he was known to have participated in eight bank robberies and was suspected of taking part in five more.² All of the robberies in which Denning has participated have involved the endangering of the life of bank employees and firearms were flourished on each occasion, said Director Hoover. In six of these bank robberies, bank employees or spectators were kidnapped and used as hostages by the robbers in making their getaway. In two of the robberies shots were fired by the bandits. In every case stolen automobiles were used, generally obtained by force.³

Although Denning was reputed to be the leader of this gang, he was still at large while his criminal associates had met their just rewards. One by one, they were killed or captured by law enforcement officers. Three of them were presently incarcerated at Alcatraz. Denning himself, however, had so far managed to elude authorities.

If Denning’s name was not familiar to most Americans, he was well-known in Nebraska. He and his gang had operated extensively in the state and had obtained their name, the Ghost Gang, both from the Gage County ghost town where they briefly made their hideout, as well as from their uncanny ability to disappear seemingly into thin air whenever pursuing officers closed in. Denning was under federal indictment at Lincoln, Nebraska, for robbing the Security National Bank of Superior and was suspected of other bank jobs in Norfolk, Scottsbluff and Bartley.

What follows is the story of a farm boy who left his Depression-ridden home to become one of the most wanted men in Nebraska history. It is a story of an outlaw who managed to evade every officer of the law that ever pursued him, including the most professional law enforcement agency the world has ever known. A man who, at the height of a nationwide search for him, disappeared without a trace. Most of all, however, it is a story of love and betrayal, greed and murder. It is a story of secrets, both familial and official.

And it is all true.

1

A BANK ROBBERY IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

We’re tough and we’re going to get the money.

On the north bank of the Republican River, a short distance from the Kansas state line, sits the quiet and staid little town of Superior, Nebraska. First platted in 1875, it took its name from the superior quality of the land that surrounds it. In 1934, however, Superior, like much of the rest of the country, was suffering from the worst drought on record, and the region’s once rich farmland was dry, cracked and dusty. Large tumbleweeds, or dry Russian thistles, blew across the highways, causing motorists quite a bit of inconvenience. A local farmer had recently discovered that the thistles, when ground down and mixed with molasses, made a decent dry feed that was high in protein—an innovation credited with saving some of the starving livestock in the area.

Thursday, November 22, 1934, was a chilly and gloomy day in Superior. Despite the clouds, however, there was no sign of any measurable precipitation. It had been an unusually eventful week in the town of three thousand people. On Monday, one of the town’s two weekly newspapers, the Superior Journal, had been auctioned off to a Kansas publisher for $4,170. The auction had brought a large group of newspapermen in from across the region. Two days later, the Superior Express announced that a new department store, Rosenbaum Brothers of Harvard, Nebraska, would soon be opening in the Riviera building on Central Avenue. Farther down Central, the Lyric Theatre was playing The Hideout, a comedy melodrama in which a gangster played by Robert Montgomery hides out in a farmhouse and falls in love with a country girl played by Maureen O’Sullivan. But most of the excitement in town was over the upcoming final high school football game of the season, with the Superior Wildcats facing off against the team from Smith Center, Kansas.⁴

Central Avenue, Superior, Nebraska. The corner of the Security National Bank can be seen on the far right. Author’s Collection.

Inside the Security National Bank, cashier Paul Schmeling and bookkeepers Helen Denny and George Whitney were getting ready to call it a day. It was Helen Denny’s twenty-eighth birthday, and she was looking forward to going home and celebrating with her husband and family. She was working in the back room when, just a few minutes before the 4:00 p.m. closing time, three young men walked through the front door as casually as though they were customers.

Although they were wearing suits and overcoats, the men didn’t appear out-of-place to Mrs. Denny. I thought they looked like farm boys, she remembered in a newspaper interview over six decades later. They were dressed that way. I didn’t think they were city fellas.⁵

Mrs. Denny started toward the front and had just made it behind the counter when one of the men stuck a pistol through the bars of the cashier cage and pointed it at her. The other two men produced a shotgun and what witnesses later described as a machine gun or automatic rifle from beneath their overcoats. The gunmen then herded the employees into the back room and told them to line up with their faces to the wall. One man told one of the others to get the lady a chair.

When one of the gunmen ordered Paul Schmeling to open the safe, the cashier lied and said the vault was under a time lock and would not open until 5:00 p.m. The gunman was not convinced, however. He said they would wait until six o’clock if necessary. We’re tough and we’re going to get the money, one of the men said.⁶

None of the bank staff ever got a good look at any of the robbers, as they were ordered to keep their backs to the gang the whole time. It was also rather dark in the building, as the curtains had been lowered just before the men entered. Helen Denny never got a look at any of their faces. I kept looking at that gun, she recalled. I was scared. I didn’t do anything.⁷

As the bandits calmly waited for the vault to open, a farmer named Soren Christensen walked into the bank to do business. He was intercepted by one of the gunmen at the door and told to get into the back room with the others. Meanwhile, one of the robbers shook down the hostages. He relieved George Whitney of his pocketbook, which contained about twenty dollars, and even took a fifty-cent piece from Paul Schmeling’s pocket. I’ll show you what a white guy I am, the robber told Schmeling. I’ll take this fifty cents home to the wife.⁸

At 4:15 p.m., the vault loudly clicked open. Paul Schmeling’s attempt to trick the bandits had failed. One bandit then guarded Denny, Whitney and Sorensen while the other two forced Schmeling to go to the vault in the middle of the building.

They said they were going to shoot me if I didn’t get the safe open, Schmeling said. As they scooped up the money, they kept asking for larger bills, but we didn’t have very many large bills.⁹

After cleaning out the safe, the robbers were ready to go. Telling farmer Christensen to wait in the back room and not come out for thirty minutes, they forced the three bank employees out the back door to where their car—a black sedan—was parked on Fourth Street. There they were joined by a fourth bandit who had remained outside, either standing guard at the door or waiting with the car.¹⁰

As they exited the bank, one of the robbers seemed to recognize someone on the street.

There goes our friend, he exclaimed.

Let’s let him have it, another robber said, but the first bandit warned, No, don’t do it.¹¹

Two of the robbers climbed into the back seat of the car while the one who had waited outside took the wheel. Mrs. Denny was told to get in next to the driver. The fourth man flashed Schmeling and Whitney a grim smile and, with the muzzle of an automatic rifle protruding from beneath his overcoat, ordered them to climb onto the running boards on either side of the car.

As Mrs. Denny sat in the car, she noticed that an arsenal of guns lay around her feet on the floor. She could also see two men watching the scene unfold through the window of the Citizens Building & Loan Association, which had its offices in the back of the bank building. I sat in the car right in front of the building and loan office and I could see two fellas in there, Herb Nelson and Claude Shaw, Denny said. They saw me too, but they didn’t move.¹²

Nelson, the secretary of the building and loan association, could see Mrs. Denny seated in the car, which was parked directly in front of the door of his office. He also saw a man standing on the curb with a shotgun. When Nelson mentioned to Shaw that the bank was being robbed, the shotgun man apparently overheard the remark. He whirled toward Nelson and aimed his gun directly at him. He then backed off the curb toward the car and climbed into the front passenger seat beside Mrs. Denny, his shotgun trained on Nelson the whole time.¹³

Nelson and Shaw took down the license number of the getaway car— Nebraska 38-1844—and as soon as the robbers had driven off, Shaw spread the alarm by telephone while Nelson went to the bank to lock the doors. Entering the bank through the rear door, he found Soren Christensen, dazed by the holdup, still sitting in the back room just as he’d been told to do.

Several people on the street saw the bandits’ car drive off with Schmeling and Whitney on the running boards, but most of them did not realize what was going on. The car went directly east on Fourth Street, nearly striking a pedestrian as it crossed Central Avenue. Taking a right on Bloom, it slowed down slightly for some railroad tracks, then sped south on Webber Road. During the ride, the driver pestered Helen Denny about their loot, asking her two or three times how much money was in the bank. She told him she didn’t know. Finally, the other bandit sitting beside her said, Aw, leave her alone, she’s scared.¹⁴

About a mile south of town, the car stopped. Another car was coming north on its way to Superior, and the bank robbers stopped it at gunpoint. In the car, which was loaded down with cream cans and egg crates, were farmer Tom Sweet and his wife. With an order not to follow them, the bandits took off. The bank employees piled into the Sweets’ car—Helen Denny sitting on Mrs. Sweet’s lap—and caught a ride back to town.

Back in Superior, a crowd of curious townspeople had formed on the street in front of the bank. The bank employees went back inside to determine how much money the robbers had gotten away with. The total loss came to $7,929.15. The bandits had cleaned the bank out, leaving only $7.00 in pennies behind.¹⁵

Later that night, Helen Denny celebrated her birthday at her mother-inlaw’s home. None of us felt like eating much, she later said.¹⁶

By coincidence, Deputy Lee Burns of the Nebraska State Sheriff ’s Office happened to be in Superior on an errand at the time of the holdup. After being notified of the robbery, he immediately started searching the crime scene for fingerprints. State Sheriff Fred Benton, Nebraska’s top law enforcement officer, came to town that night to work on the case with the two local police officers, Chief Frank Gubser and Von Hunsaker. Benton traced the getaway car to a point just south of the Republican River Bridge, where it crossed the Kansas state line. No one saw where it went after that.

Since the Security National Bank was federally insured, the investigation came under the jurisdiction of the FBI.¹⁷ At this time, the FBI was fresh off a string of recent successes that included the liquidation of such highly publicized outlaws as John Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd and was in the process of cementing its reputation as the nation’s premier law enforcement agency. The morning after the robbery, one or more FBI agents were in Superior interviewing witnesses and checking for fingerprints. As Helen Denny later remembered, the agents seemed to materialize out of thin air. They were around there someplace. I don’t know where they came from, Denny recalled. They made us go and write up a story about it and fingerprinted us.¹⁸ The agents were working out of the FBI’s divisional headquarters in Omaha, which had jurisdiction over Nebraska and western Iowa.

The bank employees could give only sketchy descriptions of the robbers and doubted that they would be able to identify them if they were ever captured. Witnesses couldn’t even agree on the make of the getaway car. The bank employees said it was a Chevrolet sedan. A local man named Emmett Utter, who had watched the bandits leave the bank, believed it was a Dodge or a Plymouth. Even the car’s license plate number was a source of controversy—one report suggested the number was fake; another said that the plates had been stolen off an old Model T in town just before the robbery.¹⁹

The trail was cold. The bandits, it seemed, had disappeared into thin air.

The Superior robbery was the sixth successful bank robbery in Nebraska in two months. The total loot secured in these robberies amounted to more than $48,000 (almost $1 million in today’s money). The state press gave an unusual amount of publicity to the Superior case, coupling their coverage with a demand for an effective method of reining in such crimes.