Daily Plainsman (Huron, SD)/June 12, 1930
Associated Press Writer Wonders What Slayer Of Chicago Tribune Reporter Thinks About, Wonders What “Big Shots” Think
A newspaper-man writes here about the murder of another newspaperman; about a community which, yawning often at gang assassination, suddenly jerks awake; and about a rat who fired from behind.
All gang murders have a common denominator; the victim never gets a chance. Jake Lingle of the Tribune didn’t have a chance.
He who sets this down is wondering today about the rat who killed Jake Lingle, wondering where he is; what he is thinking; wondering if they’ll ever run that rat down—put him to the hot seat, burn him.
Out at Lingle’s home yesterday the widow and a couple of wide-eyed youngsters wept. Mrs. Lingle was in a state of collapse. A physician watched over her. Several times during the day and night, unable to withstand the shock of a death driven home to her by a gangster gun, she gave way to her extreme grief.
What Does Rat Think?
Wonder what the rat thinks about that? Wonder if even a heart as black and yellow as his can read of a wife and mother, whipped by grief, without being moved?
Wonder what he thinks when he reads that there’s a price of $55,000 on his head? Maybe he’ll say to himself, “That’s a funny one—them guys offering all that important money for a lousy rat like me.”
And the funeral today of Jake Lingle; a grand funeral, headed by mounted police, with marching sailors and Legionnaires; with the chief of police himself a pallbearer. What does the rat think about that? Maybe that, too, is a funny one–all them dam’ flatfeet, all that law, footin’ it up the street like bunch of generals—and me, what put the guy in the box, me out here breathin’ the air and tellin’ ’em all to go to hell. That’s a funny one.
Wonder what the big shots are thinking, with all these headlines in the papers, all this hullabaloo from aroused citizens, all this excitement about cleaning up Chicago? Well, probably they’re saying, “That was a bum deal, putting Jake on the spot. Cause a lot of jibber- jabber gets the public excited. We’ll have to keep the joints closed for a couple of weeks until things quiet down. No sense in pulling a murder like, that it’ll hurt business.”
Wonder how the coppers feel about it? They knew Jake. They say they’ll get the guy that got him. They always say that. Probably they mean it this time, honest. But deep down where they live, do they actually believe they’ll ever put the bracelets on the yellow-belly? Even with $55,000 for reward, will they?
Somehow it seems bizarre, outrageous that they should bury Jake Lingle today with parading policemen and the muffled stately music of the band of the Great Lakes naval training station while somewhere there still lives—a rat.