WHEN CHRISTIAN RETURNED HOME FROM HIS MOTHER’S HOUSE in January, he received a second ransom note from the Christmas Day blackmailer, a Missouri man identified as James Cannon. Christian and his brothers-in-law contacted the St. Louis Police with what they knew about Cannon from his letters: the man claimed he was a former associate of the kidnappers, his handwriting resembled Bill Mosher’s, and he said to contact him through a friend named “Wylie.” Although the police had not yet released the ransom letters, newspapers had learned enough to describe them. Were Cannon not connected with Mosher, he could have read enough to imitate his penmanship.
After the kidnappers’ deaths, America showed rejuvenated interest in the case by sending another surge of mail to the Ross home. Once again, writers alluded to Charley’s whereabouts, offering to share secret information for the right price. The police and the family dismissed most claims as bogus. Cannon’s, they accepted. His handwriting appeared suspect and his story also spoke to the authorities’ latest hunch: whoever had Charley was an acquaintance of the kidnappers and kept the boy in a remote area.
Daniel O’Connor, chief of detectives in St. Louis, attempted to locate James Cannon. Failing to find a lead on that name, he and his associates traced “Wylie” to a riverboat. Officers arrested men on board and searched the premises. Inside of a desk, detectives found a stack of letters addressed to a Wylie. O’Connor shuffled through the papers and came across a note written in code.
Lgn Sxg ra abme jb yrun kmoo keber w jmroonrvb yw jm an lgxcpqo Knab bx vxdn gry r anum qze bquan mr & nib rx wa ax lgyb gxdljw owm gw l jamb Knix vua whion aajg bn & noxdr grv ab rw losn sv jwg jih mnb bx ca en ny g Kn Scppwe rn Oxqxe ethn qzdn bx lztu egy & pn xv qw Keb Xw gx&n uron dxwb ojru ca j&vm mxwh uxan lqnan mr & jl brxwa lgw qxrnnj dn bqn h xth x bxbqn qubun bgun bgn lrbqb qjrvm & xym lnah Xv tqc dxvax rb wx &bg bruw qxc lxyn bx bqn G &enw bxm lvtn bqn G&& nw exjm jwm oxuaxe rb exx jKxcb hennen rwna be&w wurbqub & rpbb x& uncb brun xxc lxyn bx bqu on&& g G c & w bx bqu nacb bgn on & & g jwm cuny xw cy bqu ab & nyb bbnw qxe yg aa vex bsj ma bytn bqn bqr &m Xun jam oxunxe rb Xun Vxvn bnur gxc Qron j & crmnm lj krw ljin bon y j bg Kg bqn ij kum rb y ny ma r w b x bqn a g y v jwn eruw bjin gxc bx hen ixcon eqn & n bqu X xg va Keb v w wx ijan j & n gxc bx x cwyna a a venbquvpqj y n j v a la ca bq n w qxc e new mx bqu Knaqb uxe Gwerbq bqu k x g.
K. M X C P V J A
O’Connor knew that in Cannon’s letters to Christian, he had said the clue to Charley’s location was hidden in such a code. The detective handed the letter to a handwriting expert, who found a way to interpret the cipher: it listed a set of directions leading potential searchers on a goose chase.
The boy is still at Pine Bluff, but in a different place. We thought best to move him. I send you these directions so that you can find him in case it becomes necessary to remove him, or in case of any accident to us. We may be jugged. If so, you will have to take charge of him; but on your life don’t fail us, and don’t lose these directions. When you leave the boat go to the hotel; take the right-hand road west of the hotel; follow it north till you come to the Warren road; take the Warren road and follow it for about twelve miles; turn neither right or left till you come to the ferry; turn to the left at the ferry, and keep on the straight road till you pass two roads, take the third one and follow it one mile till you come to a ruined cabin; take the path by the cabin, it leads into the swamp, and will take you to the house where the boy is. But in no case are you to go unless something happens to us; then you will do the best you can with the boy.
O’Connor’s final report summarized the St. Louis mystery. “By comparing the writing in the letters A and B and in the cipher letter with the ordinary chirography of the man Wylie,” he wrote, “little doubt can exist that Cannon and Wylie are one and the same person; that Wylie is the inventor and engineer of the whole thing, which is nothing less than an outrageous attempt to perpetrate a swindle upon Mr. Ross.”
Detectives began wondering aloud whether Charley was even alive. More than a month had passed since Mosher and Douglas’s deaths, and nobody had stepped forward to claim any of the various rewards—including the one offering both $5,000 and immunity to whoever returned Charley to his uncles, the Lewis brothers.
If Charley were still alive, the detectives asked, why wouldn’t he have been returned? What more could captors—particularly ones taken aback by the kidnappers’ deaths—want besides money and liberty?
Their questions could have been red herrings, attempts to discourage their competition from pursuing the mayor’s reward and tracking the boy. Nevertheless, once detectives verbalized what many had feared, the public allowed themselves to admit a horrible truth: their hunt could very well lead to a dead child.
Searchers slowed down. Journalists focused less on stories of lost little boys. Charley’s uncles followed fewer leads to far-off places.
The Inquirer interpreted a quieter public as the city’s collective, cynical response to the Ross family. It was wrong. Many felt just as much compassion as they had over the past several months, only they had internalized it more. Americans were still recovering from the post-traumatic stress brought on by the Civil War. When confronted with the prospect of another tragic reality, they protected themselves by turning their optimism into familiar grief. Some buried their fears under distractions. Some consciously fell silent, choosing not to further false hope. Some refused to admit failure and continued to look, accuse, and demand information. Others turned to spiritual comfort.
“Up to this hour all earthly attempts to solve the mystery have proved abortive, notwithstanding the large rewards offered,” wrote one Philadelphia man. “Permit me to suggest another mode to recover Charley Ross. Our people are eminently a Christian people. Let them call their several denominations together and unitedly set apart a day or a week for prayer to Almighty God for the restoration of this dear boy to his parents.”
Such an effort wasn’t publicized, but perhaps it worked. A New Jersey man came forward with the most important physical clue thus far.
Back in July, he said, his little girl had found Charley’s hat. She had been playing with her friends on the side of a road in Trenton when she spotted it on the ground. The girl showed it to her father when she went home, but he said he didn’t make the connection between it and the description of Charley Ross’s clothes until he saw Mayor Stokley’s latest reward.
Sarah Ross identified the hat, and the children’s nurses confirmed that it was the one Charley had been wearing when the kidnappers took him. The Trenton find was the closest that Charley’s family had been to their four-year-old since he had disappeared several months before. Amid hundreds of false leads, the hat refreshed their hope. It also confirmed the theory that the kidnappers had driven through Trenton with Charley in the wagon.
Unless they had planted the hat to make it look that way.