Robert E. Coyle #238
Robert E. Coyle was born in the bustling, historic city
of Philadelphia on May 31, 1898. Raised in Philly, Coyle was of Irish heritage,
originating from the counties of either Donegal, Tyrone or North Connacht. The
Coyles were Catholic and gave their son a parochial education. Young Robert graduated
from St. Stephen’s Grammar School in Philadelphia. As he grew, Coyle gained
great physical ability. The world was at war, and Robert decided to enlist in
the United States Army. He served three years during the World War, but nothing is known of his service
other than that he was a private.
After his discharge, Coyle worked as a chauffeur in
Philadelphia. In the early twentieth century, a chauffeur was a prestigious job
that came with a great deal of responsibility. State police records indicate
that Coyle worked for two years with the Pennsylvania State Police; however,
the Pennsylvania State Police couldn’t confirm this.
Robert Coyle was invited to attend the eighth state
police class, along with Herman Gloor #240. Only two badge numbers apart, side
by side, Coyle and Gloor sweated through weeks of difficult training. His
experience driving through the busy streets of Philadelphia paid off for Coyle,
as he
proved to be an excellent driver.
On April 1, 1924, Bob Coyle was given badge #238. Bob
Coyle’s tour with the “outfit” would be brief, as the tragic day that would
take his life was only eight months away.
The increasing criminal activity attributed to
Prohibition was rearing its ugly head all over the country, and New Jersey was
no exception. The Roaring Twenties were a difficult time in America. The
phrase, coined because of the cultural movements taking place, could also be
used to illustrate the turbulent events taking place between law enforcement,
rumrunners and gangsters. An illustration of this is that on the day Coyle was
murdered, gangsters pulled an armed robbery in Bloomfield, New Jersey, and
troopers in New York shot and killed a rumrunner.
The last page in Coyle’s life is marked Thursday,
December 18, 1924. Troopers John Gregovesir and Robert Coyle were supervising a
payroll transaction for the Bound Brook Crushed Stone Company, which was a major
quarry nestled in the woods of Somerset County that employed a large portion of
the local population. Gregovesir and Coyle were sent to assist with the payroll
distribution. The manager of the company, Charles Higgins, went once a week to
the local bank, picked up about $6,000 in payroll money and delivered it using
Chimney Rock Road. One day, two suspicious men wearing long army overcoats
stopped Higgins, identified themselves as troopers and promptly questioned him.
Afterward, Higgins asked for police assistance and designed a plan that
would involve the New Jersey State Police. The plan was simple: the
superintendent of the company, William Haelig, would pick up the proceeds and
bring them to Higgins’s house, where Higgins, escorted by the troopers, would
deliver the money using an alternate route. Haelig took the usual payroll
route, serving as a decoy. Higgins’s plot worked, protecting the money and
foiling the robbery.
Higgins, Gregovesir and Coyle arrived at the quarry, and
the payroll was delivered without incident. Little did anyone know of the
danger lurking on Chimney Rock Road, as Haelig was stopped near the quarry by
two thugs posing as state troopers who inquired about the money.20 Haelig
returned to the quarry and told Gregovesir and Coyle what had happened, and the
two raced down the long quarry driveway and turned onto Chimney Rock Road in
pursuit of the bandits.
Traveling down the winding road—known today as Thompson
Road—the troopers spotted a man fitting the description. Unbeknownst to the
troopers, they were speaking with Daniel Genese, a hardened criminal who was a consummate
professional—calm, cool and collected. He made a career of robbing people.
Gregovesir and Coyle also noticed another man standing up at Dr. Donahue Lane
(today called Donahue Lane). The troopers thought it wise to question the two
together and, according to Gregovesir, drove Genese up to the intersection.
Whether the troopers searched the man isn’t certain. What is certain is that
Genese had a gun.
Genese was put in the back seat. Coyle went to sit
alongside him and was instantly met with Genese shouting, “Stick um up.” When
Bob Coyle looked up, a gun was in
his face. Coyle pulled his weapon, and Genese shot Coyle in the face. The gun
was loaded with blanks but burned Coyle’s face, giving Genese the chance to
grab the trooper’s gun. Genese then shot Bob Coyle with his own weapon. Coyle
fell mortally wounded. While this was transpiring, Gregovesir pulled his gun,
but was slow in doing so, and the seasoned criminal grabbed it. A round rang
out, missing both men. Within the small confines of an automobile, one trooper
was dead and the other was fighting for his life.
While Genese’s partner, John Anderson, a petty criminal,
was running to help, Genese won the struggle and took possession of
Gregovesir’s gun. Genese later said that he could have killed Gregovesir “but
didn’t want the blood of both of them on [his] hands.”
The state police had just marked the one-year anniversary
of William Marshall’s death and now was faced with another death. The state
police would stop at nothing to find the culprits. The senseless murder of
Coyle made troopers apprehensive, for the realities of the newly formed
organization were settling in. Leads came in as local residents reported seeing
two suspicious men a few days before the murder operating a red sports-type
vehicle. Colonel Schwarzkopf, in an interview, “tolled off on his fingers…the
reasons he believed” those committing the crime were “professionals of some
experience.” Schwarzkopf said the gun used was loaded with two blanks, “an old
gunman’s trick.” The weapon was neatly and conveniently concealed but readily
available. Schwarzkopf elaborated further: “The bandits had successfully palmed
themselves off as state troopers while gathering information about the pay
roll; that the bandit was case-hardened enough to shoot immediately without
compunction when the occasion arose.”
The investigation followed like a Hollywood movie; there
was a multistate manhunt, and police from all over took part in varying
degrees. State Police Captain Robert Hamilton set up a command post at
Pluckemin. Hamilton had risen through the ranks rapidly and, with about two
years of tenure, was commanding Troop B. The next day, the newspaper headline
read: “Trooper Slain by Captive;
One Death in Hunt.” Local residents were asked to help in
the search, and William Morton, a local auto mechanic from New Brunswick,
volunteered and rode sidesaddle in Trooper Harry Linderman’s motorcycle.
Linderman and Morton had been out all night combing the area when they were met
with an accident. The mechanic was catapulted to his death. Morton left behind
a wife and a young daughter.
Then, suddenly, there was a break in the case when a
local taxicab driver said that he had driven two individuals over the past
several weeks up to the Chimney Rock Road area. The taxi driver said that the
men spoke of two brothers from Hudson County, one of whom was called “Rags
Reilly.”
In his frenzy to escape, Genese had left his revolver at
the crime scene, and the gun proved to be unique. There were only five hundred
manufactured due to an infringement of patent.
The weapon Genese had left behind couldn’t be
traced back to its origins, but it was believed to have been shipped to Paterson, New Jersey, by the manufacturer. However,
records showed that it was never received. Presumably, some shady employee had
traded the weapon on the black market.
With only three years in existence, the state police
could not have fathomed that it would be challenged with managing a complex,
coordinated criminal investigation with state and local authorities involving a
murder of one of its own. Efforts were now being focused in Hudson County. In
light of the complexity of
the investigation, two seasoned Jersey City Police Department officers were
called upon. Lieutenants Charles Wilson and Harry Walsh were brought on board
and proved to be excellent cops, bringing the investigation to a successful
conclusion.
The handgun that Genese had left behind was processed for
prints by the two-month-old State Police Fingerprint Bureau. “Rags Reilly” was
found to be a convicted murderer doing a life term in prison. Investigators
focused on Reilly’s associates and thumbed through “25,000 photos along with Gregovesir.”
Genese’s photo was easily identified by Gregovesir. How could he forget the man
who had let him live? “He had a murderous look…I’ll never forget it,”
Gregovesir remembered. Three other taxi drivers came forward saying they too
had driven Genese up to the Chimney Rock Road area.
Investigators discovered that the red car Genese and
Anderson had used was in the hills near Stirling, New Jersey. Authorities
learned that Genese and Anderson had stolen a blue coupe and abandoned it in a
garage at 127 East Second Street in Plainfield about 3:30 p.m. on the afternoon
of the murder. From there, they picked up the red sports car they had hidden in
a different garage and proceeded up to Chimney Rock. In the weeks following the
crime, the red sports car came to be called the “murder car.”
Lieutenants Wilson and Walsh followed Genese’s trail by
searching the vital statistics registry and discovered that Genese had applied
for and obtained a marriage license in New York in 1923. The record indicated that
he had married a woman named Florence Kleffer. Kleffer lived at 172 Hopkins
Avenue in Jersey City. Upon checking the Hopkins address, detectives discovered
that Florence’s mother had remarried and her last name was now Berberich. This
led them to East Sixth Street in Plainfield, New Jersey, where they posed as
census takers. Under this guise, it was learned that Florence was living with
her married sister, Mrs. Paldino, at Mount Horob, which was close to the crime
scene.
Troopers stood vigil, waiting out in the bitter February
cold around the Paldino home. The discipline that Schwarzkopf had envisioned
for his troopers was now evident in their actions. Troopers went without sleep,
food and shelter and refused to abandon their posts. Every trooper involved wanted
to be there when the cold-blooded killer showed up. The credo of honor, duty
and fidelity was being adhered to.35
On the afternoon of Friday, February 8, Daniel Genese was
spotted entering the Paldino home. Troopers apprehended Genese inside the
residence, and the brutal killer turned out to be unarmed and gave up without a
struggle.
The exhaustive manhunt was over. The very next day, John
Anderson was arrested in Jersey City.36 Genese was interrogated and confessed
when he was told his prints were on the handgun he had left behind.
For their hard work and effort, Lieutenants Wilson and
Walsh were awarded the Distinguished Service Medal from the New Jersey State
Police. Seven years later, the state police would once again call upon Harry
Walsh’s expertise to assist with the Lindbergh kidnapping.
On December 15, 1925, less than a year after the murder,
Daniel Genese was put to death via electrocution. He asserted to the last
minute that he didn’t get a fair trial. Prior to his execution, his wife, two
children, mother, brother and sister visited him. Genese remained calm,
composed and fearless up to his last breath. The killer bent down, said an act
of contrition with two priests and then was strapped to the chair, where volts
of electricity soared through his body. It took three soars of electricity to
kill him. John Anderson escaped this fate by receiving a lesser sentence.
Robert E. Coyle’s funeral took place on December 22,
1924, at St. Veronica’s Church on Tiosa Street in Philadelphia. Bob Coyle was
twenty six years old.
Then
(c) 2010 John E. O'Rourke
Now
(c) 2010 John E. O'Rourke
Courtesy New Jersey State Police
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