Deadly Hero: The High Society Murder that Created Hysteria in the Heartland (30 page)

Every opportunity has been given these gossips to tell what
they know, if anything, and they have failed to make good. The grand jury
report should be a standing rebuke to all such people, and it should remain as
a caution to all to quit making unfounded assertions or dangerous surmises.

Just prior to the release of the grand jury’s
report, Maddux was planning to fight his forced resignation in district court.
He changed his mind after reading the strong statement that came out against
him.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been
the end of Henry Bailess Maddux, but Henry Bailess Maddux had one more dirty
trick up his sleeve that Tulsans would learn about one year later.

THERE WAS NO WAY IN HELL
Phil Kennamer was ever going to serve twenty-five years in prison. This was the
era of long sentences by law-and-order judges but also of early paroles
courtesy of lenient state laws, pardon-and-parole boards eager to please, clemency
by outbound governors, and a lucrative system of “parole brokers.” According to
Oklahoma state law at the time, Kennamer could be out of prison in less than
twelve years with good behavior. However, the definition of good behavior
itself was incredibly loose. As long as he didn’t kill anybody, at the most, he
would only have to serve fifteen years. But serving twelve or fifteen years was
only necessary if his release could not be successfully achieved through back
channels.

And there was no way in hell Judge Franklin
Kennamer was going to let his son rot in prison while his legal team fought for
an appeal. When Charles Stuart told the press, “We think the boy is better off
in prison while the case is being appealed,” that’s not what he really meant.
What he really meant was that Judge Kennamer needed more time to schmooze six
of his prosperous friends throughout Oklahoma to pledge property worth $104,000
to secure the $25,000 appeal bond. When the judge and a new attorney, Eben Taylor,
appeared in Judge Hurst’s chambers on May 21, they came with the deeds and an
excuse: Phil was sick with influenza. It was the second time in five months he
had gotten sick with the flu.

When reporters peppered him with questions as he was
released from prison, the boy was in high spirits. Although he had been in the
prison hospital for nearly a week, he was obviously feeling better when he
launched into a tirade against Tulsa reporters in general, and Lee Krupnick in
particular.

“If that photographer is here to take a picture of
me, he’ll get his camera broken.” Phil then told reporters about his seventy-eight
days in prison, which included his work in the twine factory, and a journalism
course he started but never finished because it took too much time away from
reading books.

“The officials at the prison have been very kind
to me,” Phil added. “I have learned a number of things since coming to prison,
some good, some bad. I didn’t mind working in the twine plant but if I come
back, I hope they’ll put me on the road selling twine instead of in [the] factory.”

If the prison officials were nice to him, it may
have been because his father was friends with the warden. It was a friendship
that would later prove beneficial.

Kennamer stayed in Tulsa that night at his
parent’s home but left the next day for his father’s farm near Chelsea,
Oklahoma, where he remained for the majority of the time during his appeal.
Occasionally, he would make forays into Tulsa, which included a brief visit
with his new enemy, Jack Snedden.

Three weeks after his release, his defense team
filed their brief with the Oklahoma criminal court of appeals. In it, they
outlined nineteen legal atrocities committed by the prosecution and allowed by
the court. When Moss argued for his client on October 1, he launched into a
scathing attack of Gilmer, Anderson, and his nemesis, J. Berry King, and fired
off words and phrases like “unfair,” and “deprived of constitutional rights,”
and “taking advantage of a minor,” and “vicious, pernicious, and vile,” as well
as “prejudicial, inflammatory remarks.”

He was also not shy about blaming Judge Hurst,
who, because of the media, “was swept off his feet,” and had imposed an
excessive sentence. They also blamed him for not declaring a mistrial during
the Edna Harman fiasco, even though Anderson himself had called for one, which Moss
had rejected.

1936

Although Gilmer asked the judges for a mandate to
send Kennamer back to prison by Thanksgiving, their decision didn’t come until
March 13, when they rejected Kennamer’s appeal with the declaration that he had
had a fair trial with an unbiased jury and that the sentence was not excessive.
Jumping on the bandwagon of the court’s decision, Governor Ernest Marland brazenly
declared, “There will be no clemency for the youth during my administration.”

Instead of going back to prison, Phil remained
free while his lawyers followed standard procedure and prepared their response
to the appellate court’s decision. The law allowed them to petition for a
rehearing that would open the door for a do-over of their appeal—but it was a
long shot.

As the defense team regrouped, Judge Kennamer took
the rare step of brazenly announcing to the press that a private investigator
had uncovered new, documentary evidence.

“We have some really new evidence,” Judge Kennamer
told the press in Oklahoma City. He and his son were there to present it to the
governor, and to ask for a new investigation into the entire case. “It will
make you sit up and take notice when it is divulged. The attorneys will present
it when the time comes.”

That time would come on April 11, when the defense
launched a two-pronged attack to petition Judge Hurst for a new trial, and a
motion for the criminal court of appeals to rehear their arguments, based on
the new evidence.

On the face of it, the new, documentary evidence
provided by a private investigator was intriguing. But just as Moss and Stuart
laid a trap for the prosecution in Edna Harman, it was the prosecution’s turn
to set a trap for the defense. After it was over, and the dirty tricks were
laid bare, Flint Moss would recuse himself from the defense team—permanently.

In the petition for a second hearing before the
appeals court, the defense attached four affidavits. The first one declared
that one of the jurors, before the trial, had stated his opinion that Phil
Kennamer was guilty, “and therefore was a prejudiced juror.”

The second and third affidavits asserted that Jack
Snedden had lied on the stand when he said he’d asked Kennamer at the Owl
Tavern on the night of the murder if he was going out to kill John Gorrell, and
Phil had answered “Yes.” That affidavit was made by a Pawnee jailer who said he
had overheard a conversation between Kennamer and Snedden in the courthouse restroom
during a trial recess.

“Kennamer asked Snedden why he did not tell the
truth when he testified,” the second affidavit declared. “Snedden said ‘I can’t
because I’d get in trouble and I’m afraid to.’”

The third affidavit was from Owl Tavern proprietor
Jack Arnold, who professed that Snedden was highly intoxicated Thanksgiving
night, and that he came in the next day with a hangover and remarked that he
couldn’t remember anything about the night before.

But it was the fourth affidavit that Judge Kennamer
was counting on to free his son. It was made by a twenty-one-year-old man from
Illinois who declared he was a friend of Gorrell’s during the single semester
the two attended Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois, during the fall 1933
semester. It was accompanied by two letters, allegedly written by Gorrell, but
signed “Jeff” and “Steve,” which portrayed the sender as an outlandish, over-the-top,
“criminal mastermind,” the defense stated. In one of the letters, dated
September 1934, “Gorrell” attempted to draw Wright into his criminal
enterprise.
[41]

A group of local boys has started to organize for the new
administration coming in soon [Sheriff-elect Garland Marrs]. We have the slot
machine racket for Tulsa lined up pretty well. We have the sheriff where he
will play ball with us and seeing that Oklahoma is a dry state, we have sent
for a man to get the liquor concession under control. I wonder if you might be
able to come down and get in on the ground floor.

 . . . To make things easier on all concerned,
we have the federal judge’s son well in the gang so there is might little
danger anywhere.

 . . . I am going to K.C. and handle the K.C.
end of the business with the [gang members], etc. As far as your end is
concerned, I’ll have to write you from K.C. on Sunday.

In his affidavit that was taken in the boy’s
hometown of Canton, Illinois, Wright further stated that Gorrell had proposed
to rob three safes on campus and kill the night watchman if necessary; to fly
drugs and aliens from Mexico into the United States; and in 1933, to kidnap a
high-society girl from Tulsa, fly her across the border into Mexico, and hold
her for $50,000 ransom. To top it all off, Wright’s affidavit conveniently declared
that Gorrell “indicated [that] if anything went wrong, Phil Kennamer was to be
the fall guy.” From looking at her picture in a crime magazine, Wright
identified Virginia as the intended kidnap victim, and claimed that she and John
had been writing each other since 1933.

To pile on more inflammatory accusations, the
defense motion also claimed the prosecution bought and paid for testimony
because Dr. Gorrell
did
pay Edna Harman the one hundred dollars. He was
lying, they asserted, when he said he didn’t pay her, (even though she was
forced to take the stand by subpoena, which would nullify any reason Dr.
Gorrell would have for paying her the money she requested).

When the affidavits and letters were made public,
the backlash came hard and fast. Garland Marrs denied ever knowing John Gorrell
in his lifetime. John Gorrell and Virginia Wilcox never knew each other, and it
was stated at trial that Phil Kennamer had to supply Gorrell with the Wilcox
address. In 1933, John Gorrell didn’t have a pilot’s license, and he couldn’t
fly anywhere or rent an airplane.

When Jack Snedden heard about the libelous claims
made by the defense, he sent a telegram from Princeton University, where he was
attending school, to Dixie Gilmer, who released it to the press.

I have just learned that part of the evidence upon which Kennamer
seeks a new trial is based on the premise that my testimony was untrue and that
I was intoxicated when Kennamer was disarmed and that I was afraid to tell the
truth.

Those allegations are, of course, maliciously false. Last
summer, Phil approached me and requested that I change my testimony. Because of
my refusal, my family and I have been subjected to indignities.

Gilmer and Dr. Gorrell had been waiting for this
moment since December 1935. When the press came to them looking for a response,
they detonated their own bomb: the private investigator working for the Kennamers
was Henry Bailess Maddux. As it turns out, Maddux had approached Judge Kennamer
in the fall of 1935 with information about Wright that he had gathered during
his investigation. The disgraced, former detective then worked out a secret
deal with the judge to get “documentary evidence” that Gorrell was a big-time
criminal mastermind who was ready to frame his son.  As part of their
agreement, the judge agreed to pay Maddux $250 and gave him assurances that he
would use his influence get him a job with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
[42]

Anticipating all of this to come out sooner or
later, Gilmer was quick with his statement, which may have been prepared in
advance.

 “At the instigation of Judge Kennamer and some of
his attorneys, Maddux went to Canton, Illinois, and represented himself there
to the prosecuting attorney as a deputy sheriff from Tulsa County and acting on
behalf of the prosecution in this case. As a result of this fraud, these
affidavits were secured,” Gilmer’s statement began.

However, when Maddux handed over the letters and
affidavits to Judge Kennamer, the judge reneged on their agreement and, instead
of paying him the $250, the ex-police sergeant only got fifty bucks. Feeling
betrayed, Maddux outlined what had occurred, in a letter to Dr. Gorrell dated
December 24, 1935, and offered to sell him the evidence he had gathered from
Wright. He ended his letter with a postscript that stated: “I got $50 and a lot
of promises.”

Doctor Gorrell refused to pay for Maddux’s
“evidence,” and together with Gilmer, the two went to Canton, Illinois, to
question Wright, who not only recanted his sworn affidavits, but shifted all
the blame to Maddux.

“We obtained a sworn statement from Wright,”
Gilmer’s declaration continued, “who said as a result of fraud, misinformation,
and duress, Maddux obtained his affidavit and that the inferences to be drawn
from his affidavit were erroneous. Wright told us that it was never his
intention to defame young Gorrell’s character. He told us that Maddux dictated
his, Wright’s, statement, and it was ‘largely a creature of Maddux’s
imagination.’”

In addition to exposing Maddux, Gilmer castigated
Judge Kennamer as being “‘guilty of misconduct’ in moves planned to gain
further reprieve for his son,” the
World
reported.

A few days later, the criminal court of appeals denied
Moss’s motion for a rehearing of his client’s appeal. They also granted a
request from the assistant state attorney general when they issued a writ of
prohibition forbidding Judge Thurman Hurst from ever granting Phil Kennamer a
new trial. This obliterated any chance he had of gaining his freedom through
the courts. There would be no new investigation. There would be no new trial
based on documentary evidence that would “make you sit up and take notice.” The
high court’s decision was the legal equivalent of saying:
Go away and never
come back
. The judges even went so far as to remark that since the boy had
violated no federal laws, he couldn’t appeal his case to the United States
Supreme Court.

On April 21, a disgusted Kennamer surrendered to
the warden and expressed his opinion of the court’s decision. “Whatever
influence swayed the court in their findings it was not in the high principles
of law secured to us under the constitution.” He ended by telling reporters the
high court had no respect for government.

“Thank God it’s over,” Dr. Gorrell told the
Tribune
when told of Kennamer’s
return to prison. “At least, I hope it’s
over. I hope we can begin to forget about this case. It has been an awful
strain on my wife.”