By Diane Euston
Kansas City in the Roaring 20s was at her height. It was considered a “wide-open town” where Prohibition laws were rarely enforced. Areas like 12th Street, under the influence of political boss Tom Pendergast, was free-flowing with spirits. Jazz musicians such as Count Basie banked on the environment of Kansas City to nurture a unique jazz style.
The stockyards, the meatpacking industry – Kansas City’s first million-dollar industry – and a dozen railroad operations weaved through Union Station and welcomed visitors to this vibrant city.
The city was flanked, thanks to the City Beautiful movement, with gorgeous boulevards and first-class parks that could be reached by streetcar or automobile. The city was thriving, and over 350,000 people called Kansas City home.
Many were transplants from other places, choosing to come to Kansas City for new opportunities and business ventures.
The Country Club Plaza, under the watchful eye of JC Nichols, was built on swampland near Brush Creek in 1922. He announced a five million-dollar, 30-acre shopping center to serve his elite neighborhoods to the south.
Adamant about the automobile, J.C. Nichols devoted 46 percent of his land to wide streets and parking lots. The architecture was modeled after Seville, Spain, and he added touches such as fountains and tilework to ensure that it was a premiere destination.
His plan worked; this first outdoor shopping mall in America became the place to be seen. Elegant apartment complexes popped up around the Country Club Plaza.
One of these apartments – a two building complex called Park Manor at 902 Ward Parkway (now labeled at 910 Ward Parkway)- was the chosen home to young elites of Kansas City. Built in 1925, these two “Italian type buildings” with “automatic refrigeration” was the perfect residence for the power couple Mr. and Mrs. John G. “Jack” Bennett.
That couple – Jack and Myrtle – would make headlines across the country when shots were fired inside their spacious two-bedroom apartment. New Yorker magazine writer and critic Alexander Woollcott called it “four shots heard around the world.”
The fight that led to the death of Jack Bennett all stemmed from a game of cards, and the nation became fascinated with the story behind “The Bridge Murder Case” out of Kansas City.
Modest Beginnings
The story of Jack and Myrtle Bennett sounded on the surface to be an American Dream – the ability to rise from very little into a life of prosperity and privilege.
Born in 1895 in Tillar, Ark. in Drew County, Myrtle Adkins was the daughter of Henry Franklin Adkins and Alice Belle McReynolds.
Her mother, Alice (b.1863), grew up in rural Mississippi with little money in a town called Catfish Point. Her father, a native of Illinois, met and married Alice in 1889 in Coahoma, Miss.
The couple, with little money in their pockets, relocated to Tillar, Ark. where Henry ran a small sawmill. After just over five years of marriage, the couple welcomed their first and only child, Myrtle.
Tragedy struck after nine years of marriage when in 1899, at just 36 years old, Henry Franklin Adkins died.
They already were struggling, so his death left Alice and her young daughter destitute.
Shortly after, Alice was hired by Abner McGehee, Jr. to work as his housekeeper in Little Rock, Ark. There, Alice raised her young daughter while working inside his home.
In 1909, Alice decided to move closer to extended family in Memphis, Tenn. When just 15 years old, Myrtle quit school and began to work as a telephone operator.
Myrtle’s beauty was something few people seized to notice; her dark hair, striking features and tall physique garnered constant attention from the opposite sex. She wanted to find a good man and have her own family- to not struggle day-to-day.
While visiting St. Louis with a friend in 1917, her life would take a dramatic turn. Inside the home of a friend, young Myrtle noticed a framed photo of a handsome man in an army uniform.
She reportedly whispered to her friend, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.”
A year later during World War I, Myrtle was on a train from Memphis to Chicago when she recognized a young man sitting nearby. Tall, slender with striking blue eyes and light hair, Jack Bennett certainly noticed as a gorgeous dark-haired woman walked up to him on that train.
He was dressed in his army uniform, and Myrtle told him that she’d seen his photo before. The attraction was mutual.
John Gilbert Bennett, known better by Jack, was born in 1892 in Saline County, Ill. on a sprawling farm in the southeast portion of the state. He spent his boyhood in White County, and in about 1913, he began working as a drug clerk in Carmi, Ill.
Destined for life in a big city, Jack moved to Chicago and worked in a pharmacy when World War I called him into service. He was completing his infantry work at Camp Grant in Illinois when fate intervened.
Myrtle and Jack married on Armistice Day in 1918 just months after they met.
The couple moved many times during their early marriage, and money at first was lacking. First they went to Chicago. Then they moved to Sioux Falls, S.D. where Jack worked for a pharmaceutical company. Finally, Jack landed a lucrative job with Richard Hudnut, Inc., a maker of French-style perfumes. In 1920, the couple moved to Houston and then San Antonio.
But earning a living didn’t just fall on Jack in those early days; Myrtle kept working to help support them. But this job with Richard Hudnut selling perfume and cosmetics earned Jack a very good living. Myrtle was able to retire from working, and the couple moved her mother, Alice, into their home in Texas.
Their attractiveness wasn’t the only thing that Jack and Myrtle had in common; they were both also known to have fiery tempers. Those tempers would flare at their adopted home of Kansas City just a few years later.
To Kansas City
In 1924, Jack was a leading salesman for Richard Hudnut, carrying samples of various perfumes in his briefcase and racking up miles in his Hupmobile Cabriolet Roadster as he traveled. He ran the midwestern territory and chose Kansas City as home base.
They took Myrtle’s mother, Alice, with them.
In just a few years, Jack was bringing in about $18,000 a year (about $355,000 in today’s money). The couple wanted an apartment that matched their new lifestyle. They looked no further than the posh Country Club Plaza.
In 1925, Jack and Myrtle Bennett along with her mother, Alice Adkins, moved into a ground floor two bedroom apartment at Park Manor at 902 Ward Parkway. These “aristocratic apartment homes” were spacious for the time; their unit included two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a patio and a den.
He was on the road a lot, but Myrtle would often travel with him. To ensure Myrtle’s mother was protected when they were gone, Jack would leave his .32 Colt semiautomatic pistol in a drawer inside their apartment.
There was a bit of a trust issue with the couple, especially after Myrtle had discovered a love letter written by a woman in St. Joseph, Mo. in one of Jack’s coat pockets.
There was also the pain of losing two children to miscarriage.
Regardless of the problems kept secret inside their Park Manor apartment, the eagerness to be part of the social scene is what outsiders saw. Jack bought Myrtle a LaSalle motor car; they spent about $15,000 furnishing their apartment.
Myrtle claimed later to just want a quiet home life, and with his social climb, she may have felt his attention wasn’t centered on her. And if that letter was truly found in his pocket, she had proof.
Were these past events simmering that night in September? Did they lend to the story of what the country would coin the Bridge Murder Case?
Four Shots Fired
On Sunday, September 29, 1929, the Bennetts carved out a day of relaxation. Jack had arranged a leisurely round of golf at Indian Hills Country Club with his upstairs neighbor on the fourth floor, Charles Hofman (b. 1891).
Jack and Charles left for their tee time and returned to Park Manor around 2 p.m. Upon their return, Myrtle and Charles Hofman’s wife, Mayme (b. 1900) made dinner for them.
The Hofman’s were close friends of Jack and Myrtle; it wasn’t unusual for them to spend a great deal of time with the couple.
Over the meal, the women discussed their desire to play a few holes of golf, too; the suggestion was openly accepted by their husbands. They jumped in the car and drove back to Indian Hills where the couples played 12 holes before darkness made continuing impossible. They drove back to Park Manor where Myrtle, despite their maid having the night off, invited the Hofmans into their apartment for some sandwiches.
Rounds of drinks whetted the appetites of the Bennetts and Hofmans. Around 9:30 p.m., Myrtle suggested they play contract bridge – a very popular card game of the time. Jack took out a fold-up card table and placed it in the living room.
Alice Adkins, Myrtle’s mother, watched sleepily from the couch as the game began. She made it through a few hands before she decided to call it a night. She retired in her bedroom on the far end of the apartment.
They’d been playing for about two and a half hours, the couples paired up with each other. The stakes were one-tenth of a cent per point, and at first, the Bennetts were playing a fine game together. But their luck was about to turn.
Jack dealt the cards and opened the bidding to one spade. Charles bid two diamonds, and Myrtle raised it to four spades. Mrs. Hofman passed.
Jack confidently looked at his cards, and he said, “Pass.”
Charles liked what he saw, and he called, “Double.”
Jack played his cards, and it showed he was two tricks shy of a four-spades contract.
Myrtle couldn’t believe it. “I laid down a beautiful hand, we had the cards,” she balked.
A mix of alcohol, competitiveness and fiery personalities erupted. Charles later recalled that he heard Myrtle call Jack “a bum bridge player.”
What happened next was told and retold with details changing. Jack stood up and grabbed Myrtle’s wrist, twisting it slightly as he slapped her face hard a few times.
Myrtle suggested that the Hofman’s leave so they could resolve the dispute, but in short time, she began sobbing uncontrollably. Mrs. Hofman sat next to her on the davenport and tried to comfort her. Jack announced he was leaving.
“Then go,” Myrtle snapped back.
Jack began to pack his bags, goading his wife by smiling at her as he stormed around the apartment.
Charles walked toward the den in an effort to calm Jack down. Jack told him that “Myrtle has these brainstorms” and they’d “settle their own difficulties.”
The Hofmans, it is undisputed, grew uncomfortable at the mounting drama and went to excuse themselves from the apartment. Jack told Myrtle to get his pistol so he could take it with him to St. Joe.
That meant he was leaving his wife and her aging mother behind with no protection.
Mayme went toward the front door to leave, and Charles followed Jack into the primary bedroom – one last attempt to play peacemaker as he threw his arm around Jack, begging him to reconsider leaving.
In the meantime, Myrtle went into her mother’s bedroom and wrestled through a drawer to retrieve the gun. Alice Adkins stirred and asked what she was doing. “Jack is going to St. Joseph in the morning,” Myrtle said through tears. “I am getting his revolver for him.”
Charles saw through the bathroom door Myrtle emerge, sobbing, with a gun in her hand. Charles allegedly said, “My God, Myrtle, what are you going to do?”
The next 30 seconds would be disputed. The first two shots may have been fired inside the bathroom, as the evidence showed the door was being closed as the shots were fired while Jack stood by a chest of drawers near the bathroom door.
Two more shots erupted, one hitting Jack in the back as he was rushing toward the front door. A blood trail led from the front door to the living room. Jack tried to stagger into a chair but fell to the ground.
At 36 years old – the same age as Myrtle’s father had died – Jack Bennett took his last breath on the floor of his lavish apartment.
The Trial and Aftermath
Alice Adkins found her daughter hovering over Jack’s body, and through sobs, she said, “He hit me. He was fighting me and he twisted my arm!”
Myrtle was arrested when the police arrived – and with the police were reporters for the Kansas City Star and Times. During this era, it wasn’t uncommon for reporters to walk through a crime scene by the side of officers well before any scene was secured.
Myrtle was arrested, and she kept saying over and over, “Oh, if he only hadn’t struck me!”
She wasn’t granted bail right away, but when Jack’s family was preparing his removal from the funeral home to Carmi, Ill. for the funeral, jailers let Myrtle go to the funeral home to say goodbye.
She complained about the brown suit and tie he was wearing, requesting new clothes for him. She also complained there was no handkerchief peeking from his pocket – a detail Jack Bennett prided himself on.
Bond was finally given for Myrtle at $50,000. Nineteen friends, including the Hofmans who were witnesses to the killing, signed as security.
Then there was the issue of money. Jack Bennett had $32,500 in life insurance between three policies, and his personal estate was valued at over $15,000 – all named Myrtle as the beneficiary. Of course, none of this would pay out if she were convicted of his murder.
If she wanted to get out of this mess, she’d need an incredible lawyer. A family friend and lawyer, J. Francis O’Sullivan had stood by her side since her arrest. But they needed a powerhouse.
James A. Reed (1861–1944) was an American lawyer and politician who was probably the most famous Kansas Citian in 1929. He served three times in the U.S. Senate. He’d made a name for himself as an incredible defense attorney when he defended Jesse James, Jr. in 1899 and Dr. Bennett Clark Hyde in 1910 who was acquitted of murdering his wife’s uncle, Thomas Swope.
If anyone could get Myrtle out of this mess, it was James A. Reed.
The trial was continued until February 23, 1931 and lasted 11 days.
Myrtle testified that she didn’t intentionally shoot her husband, and the first two shots went off accidentally when she ran into a chair. The final two shots occurred when Myrtle swore she fought with him over the gun.
She claimed on the stand to remember very little of the day.
James A. Reed powerfully delivered in his opening remarks, “She went to get the revolver and we will introduce testimony to show that when she returned with it there was another scene and a struggle for possession of the weapon. In the struggle the revolver was fired and Mr. Bennett fell mortally wounded. His wife fell over his body, weeping hysterically. The shock of it almost unbalanced her and she spent some time in the sanitarium afterward.”
He’d hit her before, the defense claimed. But character witnesses talked about Jack Bennett’s good nature.
On the second day of the trial, Alice Adkins collapsed from a nervous breakdown.
One witness never made it on the stand, and his testimony could have changed the results.
Jack Bennett’s nephew, Byrd Rice, visited Myrtle inside the apartment about six weeks after the killing. When the prosecution tried to call him as a witness, James A. Reed objected since his name was not on the witness list.
The prosecution argued that they couldn’t predict Myrtle Bennett would claim on the stand to remember little from the day of the murder. Regardless, Judge Ralph Latshaw wouldn’t allow Byrd Rice’s testimony.
So Byrd told the Kansas City Times what he saw, and his words whetted the appetite of the entire nation.
He claimed Myrtle walked him through the entire apartment and narrated the whole event, pointing out in the den where Charles Hofman had stood. “He could have stopped me,” Myrtle told Byrd.
She admitted shooting at Jack four times and said the first two bullets were fired from the den when Jack closed the door to the bathroom for cover. She chased him through the bedroom and into the living room where she shot twice, one bullet hitting his back as he tried to go out the front door.
She told him, “After the trial I will tell you why I shot Jack and then you won’t feel so prejudiced against me. Nobody but my God and I know why I killed him.”
But the all-men jury of 12 didn’t hear that testimony, and they weren’t to consider first degree murder. They could charge her with second degree murder, manslaughter and not-guilty.
After eight hours of deliberation, they reached a verdict. She was found not guilty.
The jury foreman, Leslie Choate, said, “It was not that the defense proved her innocent of murder. It was that the state did not prove her guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.” They believed she had accidentally discharged the gun.
They believed James A. Reed’s story. And Myrtle walked free.
The Kansas City Country Club announced on the day of the verdict that their upcoming contract bridge tournament wouldn’t allow husband and wives to play as partners.
A Quiet 61 Years After
Myrtle quietly left Kansas City with her mother, and her name ceased being part of the headlines within a year. Very few questions were asked, but this infamous case that rocked the entire nation was left with little settlement.
Author Gary M. Pomerantz sought out the truth when writing his 2009 book “The Devil’s Tickets,” and the results were quite possibly more stunning than the case itself.
Pomerantz found that Myrtle lived an additional 61 years free, and when she died in 1992 at the age of 96 in Miami, Fla., her estate was worth just over $850,000.
Her story after the case that enraptured the headlines was one of shock and awe.
After her mother died in the care of relatives in Oklahoma in 1936, Myrtle – without use of a pseudonym – traveled to New York City where she worked her way up to executive head of housekeeping at the posh Carlyle Hotel. She lived rent free at The Carlyle, continued her love of playing bridge and other card games and kept company with some of the most recognizable people of the era.
An old employee “saw her leaving for dinner with film stars Mary Pickford and Buddy Rogers.”
She worked her way up at the Carlyle and later was employed by a hotel chain in the 1960s that took her all around the world.
A relative named Carolyn Scruggs recalled how much she enjoyed spending time with her Aunt Myrtle. But a series of strokes and bad luck had her health in question.
Relatives who had taken care of her mother stepped in, and they moved Myrtle from Florida to Oklahoma for about four years. Myrtle didn’t make it easy; she was combative and made it difficult to care for her.
One time, while sick in bed, a lawyer tried to get Carolyn Scruggs to sign for power of attorney. When dear old Myrtle “woke up,” she was mortified and decided she’d need to make new plans.
These relatives decided to put her in a nursing home nearby, and by 1990, she’d had enough. She arranged her own transportation back to Florida and called in the help of her stockbroker, Bill Armshaw.
She wanted to redo her will- again.
Myrtle became relatively close to two of her husband’s nieces, Mary and Helen. They’d visited a handful of times, and Myrtle was pretty bitter about the way her own family had treated her.
So for a final time, Myrtle drew up a new will giving the bulk of her estate to two nieces she barely knew that were related to the husband she had killed.
Carolyn Scruggs was given a nominal amount, and when Myrtle died, extended relatives were instructed – with no extra funds – to take her ashes and bury them next to her mother in Miami, Okla.
In the end, Myrtle gave her own family one-half of one percent of what she was worth, and two nieces related to her husband’s family were given 80%. Another portion went to her caretaker. The rest went to the children of her stockbroker – whom she’d never met.
The case of the Bridge Murders in 1929 rocked the nation, and the aftermath left so many guessing as to what led Myrtle to commit such a violent act against her husband. She loved him, no one doubted, but her last decisions on earth leave us all guessing as to her final motives.
As author Gary M. Pomerantz said, “In death as in life, Myrtle Bennett created more puzzles than she solved.”
Author
Discover more from Martin City Telegraph
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.