Lester J. Gillis, a/k/a
BABY FACE NELSON
BABY FACE NELSON
Baby Face Nelson might be discounted as a runty, irascible,
trigger-happy gun nut who hated his nickname, became linked to John
Dillinger by chance, and killed three federal agents. So that's what one
might think.
And one would not be far wrong.
On the other hand, he really liked cars--stole them, worked on them,
raced them at Chicago's Robey Speedway; and his mother Mary
assures us that he "never lied" to her.
Unlike his outlaw friends, he rarely drank and never cheated on his
wife, Helen, who stayed with him even in gun battles. (Today he would
be called borderline psychopathic, overcompensating for his size, in a
dysfunctional marriage. With Helen, call it co-dependency.)
When he graduated to bank robbery, "Lester" was not the kind of
name to make your blood run cold, so he adopted the nom de guerre
George Nelson.
trigger-happy gun nut who hated his nickname, became linked to John
Dillinger by chance, and killed three federal agents. So that's what one
might think.
And one would not be far wrong.
On the other hand, he really liked cars--stole them, worked on them,
raced them at Chicago's Robey Speedway; and his mother Mary
assures us that he "never lied" to her.
Unlike his outlaw friends, he rarely drank and never cheated on his
wife, Helen, who stayed with him even in gun battles. (Today he would
be called borderline psychopathic, overcompensating for his size, in a
dysfunctional marriage. With Helen, call it co-dependency.)
When he graduated to bank robbery, "Lester" was not the kind of
name to make your blood run cold, so he adopted the nom de guerre
George Nelson.
Exactly how "George Nelson" acquired the nickname "Baby
Face" isn't clear, but it probably was attached to him by a young
woman teller in a suburban bank who said the robber had a
"baby face"--likely inspired by a popular tune of the day, "Baby
Face," as in "You've got the cutest little baby face," which still
drives many people nuts.
So, stuck with "Baby Face Nelson," which he then kept trying to
change to Jimmy Williams, it's little wonder that Lester turned
mean. He had been an all-around delinquent while growing up in
what Chicago called "The Patch" on the Near West Side, and the
suicide of his dad when he was eight didn't help matters--except
make him closer to his mom, who "always knew" when Lester was
lying (probably because she never actually asked if he stole
things or robbed banks). Nor did she squawk when Lester
married a cute sixteen-year-old dime-store sales girl named
Helen Wawrzniak, and possibly it was she who slipped him a
pistol with which he escaped from a guard on his way to the
prison at Stateville.
After that he set up a better no-account bank-robbery gang
which included Homer van Meter, one of the group that, on
September 26, 1933, had broken out of the Indiana state
penitentiary at Michigan City, thanks to guns supplied by
recently-paroled John Dillinger. Van Meter knew Dillinger from
prison days, and he prevailed on Nelson to advance the bribe
money needed to spring Dillinger from the jail at Crown Point,
Indiana. He argued that Dillinger's notoriety and flair for the
dramatic would add much-needed class to Nelson's two-bit
operation, and Nelson reluctantly agreed, even though he knew
that his own lackluster crew would instantly become known as the
Dillinger Gang. (Today, careful researchers call Nelson's gang
the Second Dillinger Gang.)
Face" isn't clear, but it probably was attached to him by a young
woman teller in a suburban bank who said the robber had a
"baby face"--likely inspired by a popular tune of the day, "Baby
Face," as in "You've got the cutest little baby face," which still
drives many people nuts.
So, stuck with "Baby Face Nelson," which he then kept trying to
change to Jimmy Williams, it's little wonder that Lester turned
mean. He had been an all-around delinquent while growing up in
what Chicago called "The Patch" on the Near West Side, and the
suicide of his dad when he was eight didn't help matters--except
make him closer to his mom, who "always knew" when Lester was
lying (probably because she never actually asked if he stole
things or robbed banks). Nor did she squawk when Lester
married a cute sixteen-year-old dime-store sales girl named
Helen Wawrzniak, and possibly it was she who slipped him a
pistol with which he escaped from a guard on his way to the
prison at Stateville.
After that he set up a better no-account bank-robbery gang
which included Homer van Meter, one of the group that, on
September 26, 1933, had broken out of the Indiana state
penitentiary at Michigan City, thanks to guns supplied by
recently-paroled John Dillinger. Van Meter knew Dillinger from
prison days, and he prevailed on Nelson to advance the bribe
money needed to spring Dillinger from the jail at Crown Point,
Indiana. He argued that Dillinger's notoriety and flair for the
dramatic would add much-needed class to Nelson's two-bit
operation, and Nelson reluctantly agreed, even though he knew
that his own lackluster crew would instantly become known as the
Dillinger Gang. (Today, careful researchers call Nelson's gang
the Second Dillinger Gang.)
As luck would have it, the G-men had sent their only car into Lake Geneva for groceries, and when a V-8 Ford
approached they assumed it was only the Hermansens coming back. A couple of feds stepped outside, only to
realize that in the car were Baby Face Nelson, his wife Helen, and a starstruck young bootlegger named John
Paul Chase, who had ridden back with them from California. Nelson quickly realized he'd stumbled into a trap
that wasn't set, and chatted briefly with the agents (holding an automatic pistol under a newspaper), and then
hurriedly left. The feds put in a panicky call to Chicago, hoping Nelson could be intercepted--since they had no
car in which to give chase.
Melvin Purvis immediately dispatched two cars to head for Lake Como via the Northwest Highway (then U.S.
12, later U.S. 14), and near the hamlet of Fox River Grove Agent Thomas McDade thought he recognized
Nelson's car and turned around to give chase. Likewise thinking he recognized a G-car, Nelson spun his Ford
around and as the two passed a second time, Nelson was certain. But instead of running, Nelson turned around
yet again and began chasing McDade. As he pulled up beside McDade's coupe, McDade's partner got off a
lucky shot that managed to hit Nelson's fuel pump near the northern outskirts of the town of Barrington, allowing
the agents to make it through town and set up an ambush.
Meanwhile, an FBI Hudson, carrying Inspector Sam Cowley and Agent Herman Hollis, had encountered the
running gun battle, wondered why it was going in the wrong direction with the wrong car in pursuit, and turned
around to catch Nelson from behind. But Nelson's Ford already was conking out, and the agents' Hudson
skidded to a stop near where Nelson ditched his car at the dirt road entrance to Barrington's city park. A major
shoot-out followed, and Hollis died with a bullet in his head when he ran for cover behind a telephone pole.
Nelson, already hit in the gut by a Thompson slug, let out a curse and marched straight into the blasts from
Cowley’s shotgun, killing the second agent as well.
With both agents dead or dying, and his own car disabled, Nelson still managed to help load his own guns into
the federal Hudson and ordered John Paul Chase to drive. They took side roads into the suburb of Wilmette,
where they went straight to the house of their old friend Father Phillip Coughlan, a good "whiskey priest" who
nearly keeled over at the sight of the shot-up car and bloodied-up Nelson. What he told the feds later is that he
agreed to lead Nelson to a "safe place," but that Nelson became suspicious (there was a $5000 federal reward
on his head), turned off, and he reported this terrible event to the authorities. (They'd been on his case ever
since his business card had been found in the side pocket of a bandit car abandoned when the whole Dillinger
Gang had managed to escape a bungled federal raid on the Little Bohemia Lodge in Northern Wisconsin the
previous April).
Probably what this spiritual-counselor to bank robbers did was lead Nelson to a Wilmette "safe house" owned
by none other than Jimmy Murray, who had already spent several years in the joint for his part in the historic
Rondout Train Robbery of 1924 before opening a barbeque restaurant at Harlem and North Avenues, and which
had become a hangout for Dillinger, Nelson, Van Meter, members of Chicago's Roger Touhy gang, among many
other hoods. The house, at 1627 Walnut in Wilmette, was then occupied by Marie Henderson, who also was less
than thrilled by Nelson's arrival. In any event, he was carried into a bedroom, patched up with a rag, and died
about 7:30 that evening.
By this time Jimmy Murray was on the scene and he helped move Nelson's body--at Helen's request-- to a
place in the grass at the northeast corner of St. Paul's cemetery in the adjoining suburb of Niles Center, where
(after some phone calls and confusion) it was found by police the next morning.
For reasons still unclear, the feds, having located the house where Nelson died, merely kept it under
surveillance, possibly because Jimmy Murray had become an informant even while he was passing on federal
information to his friends still in the outlaw business.
approached they assumed it was only the Hermansens coming back. A couple of feds stepped outside, only to
realize that in the car were Baby Face Nelson, his wife Helen, and a starstruck young bootlegger named John
Paul Chase, who had ridden back with them from California. Nelson quickly realized he'd stumbled into a trap
that wasn't set, and chatted briefly with the agents (holding an automatic pistol under a newspaper), and then
hurriedly left. The feds put in a panicky call to Chicago, hoping Nelson could be intercepted--since they had no
car in which to give chase.
Melvin Purvis immediately dispatched two cars to head for Lake Como via the Northwest Highway (then U.S.
12, later U.S. 14), and near the hamlet of Fox River Grove Agent Thomas McDade thought he recognized
Nelson's car and turned around to give chase. Likewise thinking he recognized a G-car, Nelson spun his Ford
around and as the two passed a second time, Nelson was certain. But instead of running, Nelson turned around
yet again and began chasing McDade. As he pulled up beside McDade's coupe, McDade's partner got off a
lucky shot that managed to hit Nelson's fuel pump near the northern outskirts of the town of Barrington, allowing
the agents to make it through town and set up an ambush.
Meanwhile, an FBI Hudson, carrying Inspector Sam Cowley and Agent Herman Hollis, had encountered the
running gun battle, wondered why it was going in the wrong direction with the wrong car in pursuit, and turned
around to catch Nelson from behind. But Nelson's Ford already was conking out, and the agents' Hudson
skidded to a stop near where Nelson ditched his car at the dirt road entrance to Barrington's city park. A major
shoot-out followed, and Hollis died with a bullet in his head when he ran for cover behind a telephone pole.
Nelson, already hit in the gut by a Thompson slug, let out a curse and marched straight into the blasts from
Cowley’s shotgun, killing the second agent as well.
With both agents dead or dying, and his own car disabled, Nelson still managed to help load his own guns into
the federal Hudson and ordered John Paul Chase to drive. They took side roads into the suburb of Wilmette,
where they went straight to the house of their old friend Father Phillip Coughlan, a good "whiskey priest" who
nearly keeled over at the sight of the shot-up car and bloodied-up Nelson. What he told the feds later is that he
agreed to lead Nelson to a "safe place," but that Nelson became suspicious (there was a $5000 federal reward
on his head), turned off, and he reported this terrible event to the authorities. (They'd been on his case ever
since his business card had been found in the side pocket of a bandit car abandoned when the whole Dillinger
Gang had managed to escape a bungled federal raid on the Little Bohemia Lodge in Northern Wisconsin the
previous April).
Probably what this spiritual-counselor to bank robbers did was lead Nelson to a Wilmette "safe house" owned
by none other than Jimmy Murray, who had already spent several years in the joint for his part in the historic
Rondout Train Robbery of 1924 before opening a barbeque restaurant at Harlem and North Avenues, and which
had become a hangout for Dillinger, Nelson, Van Meter, members of Chicago's Roger Touhy gang, among many
other hoods. The house, at 1627 Walnut in Wilmette, was then occupied by Marie Henderson, who also was less
than thrilled by Nelson's arrival. In any event, he was carried into a bedroom, patched up with a rag, and died
about 7:30 that evening.
By this time Jimmy Murray was on the scene and he helped move Nelson's body--at Helen's request-- to a
place in the grass at the northeast corner of St. Paul's cemetery in the adjoining suburb of Niles Center, where
(after some phone calls and confusion) it was found by police the next morning.
For reasons still unclear, the feds, having located the house where Nelson died, merely kept it under
surveillance, possibly because Jimmy Murray had become an informant even while he was passing on federal
information to his friends still in the outlaw business.
Forward
Back
His father a suicide, his rights constantly trampled upon
by brutal cops, is it any wonder that Lester Gillis went
to the bad? In a word, yes. He was a real asshole, who
made life fairly miserable even for his fellow outlaws. As
Lyndon Johnson much later said, they would rather have
him inside the tent pissing out rather than outside the
tent pissing in. The above illustrations have a few things
screwed up, including his route; according to one
newspaper account the dying Nelson, a good Catholic
boy--or maybe not such a good Catholic boy--stopped
north of Wilmette at a monastary whose monks said the
Catholic equivalent of "Not no, but hell no!"
by brutal cops, is it any wonder that Lester Gillis went
to the bad? In a word, yes. He was a real asshole, who
made life fairly miserable even for his fellow outlaws. As
Lyndon Johnson much later said, they would rather have
him inside the tent pissing out rather than outside the
tent pissing in. The above illustrations have a few things
screwed up, including his route; according to one
newspaper account the dying Nelson, a good Catholic
boy--or maybe not such a good Catholic boy--stopped
north of Wilmette at a monastary whose monks said the
Catholic equivalent of "Not no, but hell no!"
On July 22, 1934, Dillinger was betrayed by the duplicitous
Anna Sage, the "Woman in Red," and killed by federal agents
outside the Biograph Theatre. Nelson immediately split for
California, where he dabbled in the booze business before
returning to the Chicago area the following November. He
headed for the Lake Como Inn, near Lake Geneva, just across
the state line in Wisconsin, whose owner Hobart Hermansen had
been assigning him and or Dillinger or others to what the outlaws
called the Doll House, a little two-story cabin separate from the
Inn proper. The feds had gotten wind of this and "prevailed" on
Hermansen let them use his place as a trap. (Actually,
Hermansen didn't have much choice in the matter; he was a
bootlegger, courting the ex-wife of Bugs Moran who lived in
another lake house a hundred yards or so down the road, and
the feds could have charged him with harboring.) Then came the
"Battle of Barrington" that baffled nearly everyone, except maybe
Baby Face.
Anna Sage, the "Woman in Red," and killed by federal agents
outside the Biograph Theatre. Nelson immediately split for
California, where he dabbled in the booze business before
returning to the Chicago area the following November. He
headed for the Lake Como Inn, near Lake Geneva, just across
the state line in Wisconsin, whose owner Hobart Hermansen had
been assigning him and or Dillinger or others to what the outlaws
called the Doll House, a little two-story cabin separate from the
Inn proper. The feds had gotten wind of this and "prevailed" on
Hermansen let them use his place as a trap. (Actually,
Hermansen didn't have much choice in the matter; he was a
bootlegger, courting the ex-wife of Bugs Moran who lived in
another lake house a hundred yards or so down the road, and
the feds could have charged him with harboring.) Then came the
"Battle of Barrington" that baffled nearly everyone, except maybe
Baby Face.
AT LAST: The location in Niles Center
(now Skokie) where Nelson's body was
found after he died in Jimmy Murray's
safe-house at 1627 Walnut in the
northern Chicago suburb of Wilmette.
(now Skokie) where Nelson's body was
found after he died in Jimmy Murray's
safe-house at 1627 Walnut in the
northern Chicago suburb of Wilmette.
| With Nelson dead, John Paul Chase captured and convicted, and Helen Nelson surrendering to the Bureau the next day (but not before local newspapers went nuts thinking she was still on the loose), the FBI began prosecuting nearly everyone ever connected with Nelson--except in Chicago, where one couple did short jail time but some of his other associations--with Father Couglan, Jimmy Murray, and probably others--were strangely ignored. Not until 1937 did a Kennilworth police officer, who lived near the Walnut Street house, report what he thought was new information. But no action was taken. |
| The Chicago newspapers that devoted many days and many pages to the killing of Dillinger devoted only about two days to the death of Baby Face Nelson...and let it go at that. No place of his death was reported, not even the location where his body was found. The only follow-up story was obtained by The International News Service and published a week later in the Chicago Journal-American. Many details were fleshed out in Baby Face Nelson: Portrait of a Public Enemy, but neither his wife Helen, his two children, or any other relative ever offered to elaborate. |
The "Doll House"
The Lake Como Inn,
near Lake Geneva,
Wisconsin, and staked
out by the FBI, was a
favorite of Nelson's,
who liked to stay at the
"Doll House," separated
at left from the main
hotel. The G-men
initially mistook
Nelson's car for the
owner's, Hobart
Hermansen's 1934 Ford,
but then immediately
called the Bureau office
in Chicago. Nelson
realized he'd driven
into an unset trap and
sped south toward
Barrington, where he
killed two Federal
agents, escaped in
their car, and died that
evening in Wilmette.
The next day, Federal
authorities tried (not
very successfully) to
explain that their "Show
no mercy" order did not
actually mean "Shoot to
Kill" or "Kill on sight."
near Lake Geneva,
Wisconsin, and staked
out by the FBI, was a
favorite of Nelson's,
who liked to stay at the
"Doll House," separated
at left from the main
hotel. The G-men
initially mistook
Nelson's car for the
owner's, Hobart
Hermansen's 1934 Ford,
but then immediately
called the Bureau office
in Chicago. Nelson
realized he'd driven
into an unset trap and
sped south toward
Barrington, where he
killed two Federal
agents, escaped in
their car, and died that
evening in Wilmette.
The next day, Federal
authorities tried (not
very successfully) to
explain that their "Show
no mercy" order did not
actually mean "Shoot to
Kill" or "Kill on sight."
Above: Jimmy Murray's "safe
house" at 1627 Walnut in
Wilmette, where Lester
shuffled off his mortal coil.
Residents at the time were
house" at 1627 Walnut in
Wilmette, where Lester
shuffled off his mortal coil.
Residents at the time were
Ray and Marie Henderson, and Murray hurried over to help move the body to St. Paul's
Cemetery in Niles Center (now Skokie) where police found it the next day.
Left: Mr. Haben, undertaker, who as a boy witnessed the arrival of "Baby Face" Nelson
and a few years ago posed next to the slab where ol' Les was laid out at what was then
the Haben-Bradley Funeral Home.
Below: Lester's gravestone, next to his wife Helen and other family members, at St.
Joseph's Cemetery, in a suburb west of Chicago. Buried nearby is his boyhood friend and
later accomplice, Jack Perkins, who thereafter hooked with the Mob but continued to look
after the Widow Gillis in her later years.
Although a Catholic "backslider," Les remained close to Father Coughlan, a "spiritual"
priest of the tavern variety and ecclesiastical counselor to the bank-robbing community,
from whom Mr. Gillis sought shelter in his hour of need. If the good Father heard his
Confession and gave him Last Rites, Lester may have done a little time in Purgatory (later
abolished by the Church) but might eventually have reached Heaven. If both were too
rattled that evening to think about saving his soul, the Devil may have still have been
impressed enough to employ him as Hell's equivalent of a Wal-Mart Greeter.
Cemetery in Niles Center (now Skokie) where police found it the next day.
Left: Mr. Haben, undertaker, who as a boy witnessed the arrival of "Baby Face" Nelson
and a few years ago posed next to the slab where ol' Les was laid out at what was then
the Haben-Bradley Funeral Home.
Below: Lester's gravestone, next to his wife Helen and other family members, at St.
Joseph's Cemetery, in a suburb west of Chicago. Buried nearby is his boyhood friend and
later accomplice, Jack Perkins, who thereafter hooked with the Mob but continued to look
after the Widow Gillis in her later years.
Although a Catholic "backslider," Les remained close to Father Coughlan, a "spiritual"
priest of the tavern variety and ecclesiastical counselor to the bank-robbing community,
from whom Mr. Gillis sought shelter in his hour of need. If the good Father heard his
Confession and gave him Last Rites, Lester may have done a little time in Purgatory (later
abolished by the Church) but might eventually have reached Heaven. If both were too
rattled that evening to think about saving his soul, the Devil may have still have been
impressed enough to employ him as Hell's equivalent of a Wal-Mart Greeter.