|
On the night of
August 29, 1959, the curtain went down on the performance of West
Side Story on Broadway, Leonard Bernstein's paean to young love
destroyed by youth gang warfare. It was a time when urban youth gangs
rumbled almost nightly in the streets and alleyways of most large cities
across the land. Little did the theatergoers at the Majestic know that an
hour later and just four blocks away, a real-life version of West
Side Story would be enacted on the streets of Hell's Kitchen and
that it would constitute one of the most infamous crimes in the history of
a neighborhood long known for crime: "The Capeman Murders."
The place: A
playground (named May Mathews Playground in 1972) between West 45th and
46th Streets, midway between Ninth and Tenth Avenues.
The time: 12:15 a.m.
on a night in late summer, after a rainy day.
The protagonists:
Six neighborhood teenagers sitting on a bench in the park after three of
them had attended a movie on West 42nd Street, and twelve other teenagers,
members of a gang called the Vampires.
A taxi cab screeched
to a halt on West 46th Street about midnight. From the cab emerged
Salvador Agron, the Capeman, who was decked out in a borrowed,
crimson-lined black satin cape and fancy shoes, and Antonio Luis
Hernandez, the Umbrella Man. Agron, a.k.a. Dracula, Bigfoot, and
Machinegun Sal, aged 16, came from Brooklyn, where he used to lead a gang
called the Mau Maus. He moved on to become the leader of the Vampires,
based in Manhattan's West 70s and 80s. He wielded a twelve-inch
silver-mounted Mexican dagger. Hernandez, 17, who hailed from the Bronx,
was his top lieutenant and drew his nickname from his habit of using an
umbrella as a sharp-pointed weapon. The expansionist Vampires had come
downtown for two reasons: they aspired to the turf south of 50th Street
and they had heard that their fellow Puerto Ricans were being ill-treated
by Irish and Italian teenagers in the area. A rumble had been arranged
between the Vampires and the Nordics, to be held at the playground,
coincidentally the scene of a spate of recent muggings. Only the Nordics
failed to appear. Instead, minutes earlier, three teenagers on their way
from the movies walked across the unlit playground, met three friends, two
boys and a girl, and sat down to talk.
At that point, led
by the battle cry, "Where's Frenchy?" (one of the rival gang
members?), the Vampires came pouring into the park and circled the
benches. When they realized the Nordics had not shown up, they turned
their fury on the six local youths. Robert Young, 16, a resident of West
47th Street, was stabbed to death, dying in front of 449 West 46th Street.
Anthony Krzesinski, also 16 and a resident of West 47th Street, was
stabbed in the back and staggered across 46th Street to 445-7 West 46th,
where he fell in the doorway, saying to his friend, "I'm hurt. Get me
upstairs fast." He died soon afterward in the apartment of Frank
Zorovich and his daughter, Edna. Edna later said that the Vampires were
looking for someone in particular, who lived on West 46th Street. Edward
Riemer, 18, of Ninth Avenue, was also knifed and stomped, and brought to
St. Clare's Hospital in critical condition. He ultimately survived his
wounds. According to some accounts, some members of the gang held the boys
down while Agron stabbed them in the back. One of the fatally wounded boys
is said to have run across 46th Street holding his "insides in his
hands." In the aftermath of the murders, cops descended on the block
and more than 100 local residents formed a semi-circle around the
buildings where the two teenagers lay dead.
Initially, the
police were unable to determine if the attacks involved gang warfare, even
though they followed by a week gang action on the Lower East Side which
left two teenagers dead and six others shot or stabbed. In a city reeling
from youth gang violence, the murders in May Mathews Playground soon
became famous as "The Capeman Murders" and still stand today as
one of the most publicized crimes of the era, serving as the climactic
event of the concrete jungle fifties.
On September 2, Sal
Agron, the swaggering, almost illiterate stepson of a Pentecostal
minister, was arrested for the murders and brought to the West 47th Street
station house (now the site of Ramon Aponte Park). When questioned by
reporters as to why he did the crime, Agron answered, "Because I felt
like it." Said Agron at the time, "I don't care if I burn. My
mother could watch me." In fact, his mother, Esmeralda Gonzalez,
brought him a Bible, which Agron refused to accept.
Agron's sidekick,
Antonio Luis Hernandez, was also arrested, admitted being present at the
crime scene, but denied any role in the fatal knifeplay.Two other Vampires
were charged with manslaughter and the rest were hit with lesser charges.
In the two weeks
following the Capeman Murders, Mayor Wagner promised more patrolmen on the
beat and leaders from 20 Clinton organizations, including Msgr. McCaffrey
of Holy Cross Church (who had buried Krzesinski), met at Hartley House, at
the invitation of Assistant Director Edward Tripp, to discuss crime, the
needs of youth and the neighborhood, leading to the creation of the
Clinton Planning Council.
The Capeman Murders
riveted attention on the legions of dispossessed youth plaguing American
cities, even as the country experienced a great age of affluence in the
years following World War II. Here was Salvador Agron, who up until the
age of 16, had spent half his life in poorhouses and reform schools in his
native Mayaguez, as well as in several youth and detention homes in New
York. His parents had separated when he was one year old. He had foraged
for food in garbage cans and slept in hallways, after being abandoned by
his real father in Puerto Rico and brought to New York by his mother.
Agron bragged that
he had stabbed five people over the years: "It was my usual
procedure." His arms bore scars, plus some self-inflicted wounds.
While imprisoned at the Brooklyn House of Detention shortly before the
Capeman Murders, he inscribed "Liberty or" on his right arm with
pins and blue ink. Said Agron, "I left death out because, when
Patrick Henry screamed, he had no choice and I thought maybe I might have
a choice." Of the night of the murders, Agron said years later,
"I was full of booze, full of goofballs, full of hate. I feel deep
pain when I think of that night."
The case went to
trial in General Sessions Court in July 1960. Agron was charged with two
counts of first degree murder and one count of attempted first degree
murder. The Vampires' rules called for the youngest member of the gang to
shoulder the blame, and despite the fact that he initially boasted of the
slayings and despite a 44-page confession which led to his conviction,
Agron would say many years later that "someone in that park did it
and it wasn't me. I just took the blame. I had a nasty attitude."
And: "My cape had no blood. My knife had no blood. The other knife
with the blood of the victim was suppressed by the prosecution, was
forgot. . . I can't see myself actually plunging in the knife."
Although his
attorneys contended that Agron was severely disturbed and was not a wanton
killer, he was found guilty and sentenced to death. Hernandez, who pled
guilty to manslaughter, received a sentence of 7½ to 15 years and was
eventually re-tried, re-convicted and released on good time.Four other
gang members received various shorter sentences which they went on to
serve. The trial lasted thirteen weeks and there was considerable
controversy over whether or not it was fair. For many months after the
trial, the case remained newsworthy. Agron affirmed over and over again
that he could not remember the commission of the crime. In 1961, Anthony
Krzesinksi's mother vowed retribution for her son's death. At the time,
Agron was in Sing Sing and for 18 months the youngest inmate in New York
State history to sit on Death Row. As the death penalty itself was
undergoing increasing scrutiny, Eleanor Roosevelt initiated a campaign to
have Agron's sentence commuted to life in prison, a campaign Robert
Young's father supported. The long clemency drive ended on February 7,
1962, just six days before his scheduled execution, when Governor Nelson
Rockefeller commuted his sentence to life in prison without any
possibility of parole until 1993. Both trial court judge Gerald Culkin and
D.A. Frank Hogan, who had won Agron's conviction, participated in the
commutation drive.
At the time of the
murders, Agron said he was "a real skinny kid, skinny in the flesh
and skinny in the brain." He was transferred from Sing Sing to
Dannemora. From a kid who could barely read a newspaper in 1959, he
learned to read and to write poetry and eventually became known as a model
prisoner. His rehabilitation came from Stella Davis, a House of Detention
social worker who became his surrogate mother. Mrs. Davis not only taught
Agron to read and write, but motivated him to take college correspondence
courses and persuaded newspapers to publish Agron's poems. He also became
a famed jailhouse lawyer, adept at writing legal papers and appeals for
release, his own and others. He earned a high school equivalency diploma
and then a B.A. in Sociology and Philosophy from New Paltz State
University. He grew up to be a broad-shouldered man, 5'11" tall and
weighing 170 pounds. Attorney Harry Kresky called him a "clear case
of redemption."
In a New York
Times Op-Ed piece in 1975, Agron wrote:
"I have been
able to maintain the little humanity that was left within me, and working
at it in the face of backward surroundings, have been able to cultivate my
humanity...and increase my respect for all human beings. I will continue
to make this a positive experience. However, how much is enough? How long
does it take to correct or rehabilitate a first-time offender?"
At Christmas 1976,
Governor Hugh Carey commuted Agron's life sentence, making him eligible
for parole. However, in 1977, Agron escaped from a jail-release program at
Fishkill Correctional Facility, fled to Arizona, and turned himself in two
weeks later. He was brought back to New York, tried for escape and found
not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. The jurors were moved by his
depiction of the horrors of prison life. In 1979, the Times referred to
him as "robust, deliberate, pensive and philosophical as he prepares
to regain his freedom as a man both physically and mentally
refitted."
Agron summarized his
life experience by saying, "If a person acts toward me humanly, I
must respond in a very human way. Otherwise, I would be a discredit to my
own humanity, and I can't discredit my own humanity because it took me
actually quite a while to get a hold of it."
In November 1979,
Agron was paroled from Auburn Correctional Facility and settled down to
live with his mother, sister Aurea and her child in the Bronx. He took a
job as a counselor with the South 40 Corporation, an organization using
federal funds to help former offenders. Said Agron at the time: "When
they say, Salvador, you're free, I smile. . . and I go out there and I see
those ghettos and I see this poverty, why, I say it's relative. Freedom is
relative to the conditions. It seems to be very subtle, like something you
chase."
Salvador Agron died
of a heart attack at a Bronx Hospital in April 1986. He was just shy of
his 42nd birthday.
The West 46th Street
Block Association is planning a memorial in May Mathews Playground for the
two young men, Robert Young and Anthony Krzesinski, who were killed there
in August 1959.
by George
Spiegler for the Clinton Chronicle, copyrighted, all rights reserved.
|