There is no honor among thieves.
Minnie Wallace Walkup Ketcham and Dethlef Hansen had tried to cheat each other. Now they would see which of them was the more successful scam artist. Their original alliance had come about as a desire to get John Ketcham’s wealth by any means possible.1
Hansen knew Minnie was vulnerable to blackmail because of her past and her somewhat incriminating letters to him and also because she was not only affiliated with courtesans but was little better than one herself. On top of that, she was a source of easy money for him if she succeeded in getting John Ketcham’s still-substantial wealth. He decided to bide his time.
When John Ketcham died, Minnie summoned Hansen to her home, as she was almost immediately under suspicion and could be arrested at any minute. The attorney saw right away that his best approach was to feed her fears, and his first move was to ensconce himself at 3421 Indiana—ostensibly to be on hand to provide bail if she should be arrested but in reality to be on top of the situation and see what items he could use to help out his own cause. When he found a collection of letters from various individuals, including Minnie’s mother, he took control of them and all her papers—even scrapbooks—“so the police wouldn’t get them.”
Dethlef Hansen’s goal was to get Minnie to split the estate with him, and she may have even encouraged this idea herself by telling him that if he could prevent her from being arrested and could get her the estate, she would give him half the Ketcham fortune and he would never have to practice law again. But when he asked her to sign a written agreement to that effect, she put him off.
Hansen’s response was to turn up the heat on Minnie’s fears: He told her that James Purnell, the Ketchams’ attorney, had entered into a conspiracy with a deputy coroner to plant poison in John’s organs to implicate Minnie. To lend credence to this alleged plot, Hansen had gone to Jacob Kern, a former state’s attorney, to get him to join forces. Kern was to validate the Ketcham-coroner plot and encourage Minnie to sign the agreement about splitting the fortune so he and Hansen could prevent her from losing the entire estate and going to jail. Kern, however, refused to go along with it and later told Minnie what Hansen had done.
There was, of course, no conspiracy on the part of the Ketchams. They did, however, suspect that John had died as the result of some kind of foul play, and it was at their insistence that the inquest was held. As John had been previously ill and under the care of a reputable physician who had signed a death certificate, this normally would not have been required.
Dethlef Hansen spent a lot of his time putting out fires in the form of rumors that had sprung up in the press about Minnie. But how did these rumors start? Minnie later claimed (probably correctly) that Hansen himself had spread them so he could add to her bill (and her fears) by refuting them through newspaper interviews. He had even paid one reporter $100 to write up these stories.
Hansen eventually realized that he was not going to get one-half interest in the Ketcham estate, which he was convinced was his due, and Minnie simultaneously concluded that he had been lying to her. They had a falling-out around Christmastime in 1897 (they may have even been lovers, as Hansen was a very handsome and charming young man), and she ordered him out of her home on New Year’s Day 1898. He promptly presented her with his bill for $20,000: $10,415 for his advice and his services vis-à-vis the coroner, and $9,585 for his services in the probate court. Minnie refused to pay it.
After he was kicked out of Minnie’s house and Alfred Trude had taken over the Ketcham probate case, the young lawyer continually harassed her for his fee. In February 1898, the estate still not settled, he put a lien on the proceeds of one of John Ketcham’s insurance policies for the amount of his fee, and he advised a brewery to do the same when Minnie failed to pay her $250 bill with them (probably incurred at the “party house” and her reason for precipitously vacating the premises there). Minnie’s response was to have Trude file contempt charges against Hansen in probate court, as his lien prevented her from discharging her duties as executrix of the estate.
Trude presented evidence that the services Hansen performed in probate court, for which he was charging Minnie $9,585, consisted entirely of filling in a form that the court clerks had to help him with and saying “All right” when Judge Kohlsaat angrily told him to remove his silk hat from in front of the judge’s face (“Take that thing away, sir”). But the lien was allowed to remain.
Nothing more was heard of Hansen until 1901, although he was no doubt dunning Minnie in the two years intervening. In June of that year, frustrated at not getting his attorney’s fees, he filed suit in Cook County Superior Court. (Minnie was reluctant to pay any of her creditors; she had only given him $385 while he was still working for her. He should have seen the handwriting on the wall.)
On the first day of the trial of Hansen v. Ketcham, Minnie—who had moved to New York City over the previous year and was staying at the posh Grand Hotel in Chicago—was accompanied by her cousin Sena Torrey (one of the witnesses to the Ketcham will) and a new wealthy admirer: fifty-year-old DeLancey Horton Louderback, a partner of robber baron Charles Tyson Yerkes in establishing Chicago’s railway system.
Each day, the jurors—who had been told not to read anything about the case—sat in the box before trial and read the newspaper. But those newspapers quickly disappeared once the action began.
The opening statement of Minnie’s lawyer, Alfred Trude (who had been Dethlef Hansen’s colleague for the Ketcham probate case and had actually praised him for his work with it), was a sarcastic piece of theater meant to ridicule Hansen and, at the same time, divert the jury from the fact that the defense could not refute his testimony. Trude told how Hansen had returned to the house at 3421 Indiana Avenue after Minnie had kicked him out (it was never stated why he had returned), got drunk, then went down to the cellar for more champagne. When he came back upstairs, he had something red smeared all over his face, and the “terrified occupants” thought he was either wounded or had killed someone down there. But no. He had broken into a can of Minnie’s homemade red plum jelly, and Trude presented this little drama in mock epic style: “Yes, gentlemen of the jury, the services for which this complainant demands $20,000 compensation consisted mainly in making away with the dead husband’s champagne and the widow’s plum jam,” at which the crowded courtroom laughed and even the judge had to hide a smile.
Before Trude’s dramatic statement, however, Hugo Pam (he would go on to serve as a judge for many years) was much more subdued and straightforward in his opening for the plaintiff. Not only did he outline the work Dethlef Hansen had done for Minnie (for example, trying for three weeks to get witnesses who would testify that Ketcham was sane), he also brought out the elements of their relationship that would show her to be out for Ketcham’s money: her constantly seeking him out for advice as to “the old fool’s” wealth, her attempt at accessing the safety deposit box, and Hansen’s drawing up of the will that left everything to Minnie.
During his direct examination, Hansen produced a letter from Minnie, in which she addressed him as “my dear” and she asked about evading her debts in Illinois and Louisiana. It was on her stationery and in her handwriting, yet Trude characterized it as a forgery. His cross-examination of Hansen resumed the tone of sarcastic melodrama he had adopted for his opening statement, leading the Chicago Daily Tribune to characterize it as “opera bouffe.” There was so much raucous enjoyment of this in the courtroom that Judge Tuthill had to admonish everyone: “This is not a town meeting nor a vaudeville show, and disturbances will not be permitted.” This had absolutely no effect on Trude’s approach to the witness, however.
Trude seemed to focus on the fact that Hansen had never actually presented a case in a courtroom, insinuating that he was not a real lawyer because of this. Once, while Hansen was living in Minnie’s house, he took it upon himself to fire Joe Keller: “Remember, I am the lawyer in this case,” he reminded him. Keller, however, did not consider Hansen to be his boss and retorted, “Well, if you’re the lawyer in this case, why don’t you practice law in the courtroom or your office?” Apparently, Hansen’s constant presence and his bossy attitude did not sit well with the household.
Turning serious for a brief moment, Trude thundered, “I invoke the lightning of God’s wrath if his Honor’s clerk can tell of a single case Hansen ever tried in this atmosphere. I pause for a reply.” When none came, other than the clerk merely shaking his head, Trude picked up the tone of ridicule again: “Why, Hansen wouldn’t know a legal proposition if he saw it coming down Clark Street with a placard on it and a red lantern on each side.” All this sarcasm served to hide the fact that Trude could not refute Hansen’s claims about the meretricious scheming of the designing woman who was his client.
Hugo Pam had presented a witness who was invited to dinner at Minnie’s house, when Minnie told the guest that Hansen was “slaving night and day” for her case and was working so hard that he had to live there. In his cross-examination, Trude continued to belittle Hansen:
Trude: You didn’t see any of Hansen’s legal services about, did you?
Witness: Nothing but the dinner service.
Trude: Well, did you see anything of the plum jelly which later came to a mysterious end at Hansen’s hands?
Pam: I object to this, your Honor.
Trude: All right, I withdraw the jelly. Mr. Clerk, strike out the jam.
Pam [shaking his finger at Trude]: Oh, you’ll bear watching. You know the tricks, you old bird.
Trude: I object to his calling me a bird, your Honor.
When Hansen revealed all of Minnie’s schemes to get Ketcham’s money, Trude had no rebuttal but chose instead to chastise the plaintiff for violating attorney-client confidences and “playing into the hands of her enemies.” He never alleged that the testimony was untrue.
Trude even mocked Hansen for his practice of taking people out on Lake Michigan in an excursion steamer named the Chief Justice Waite, then treating them to champagne from cases he had stored on board. This certainly had no bearing on the issues in the trial, but Trude was leaving no stone unturned in his effort to paint Dethlef Hansen as a corrupt and inept attorney, one who did very little actual practice of law. Perhaps he meant to imply that he was using the excursions to bribe rich or influential people.
(Hansen’s Lake Michigan trips may have paid off by getting him at least one case, however, if the wealthy Arlington Heights merchant Frederick Seeberg had ever been a guest on the Chief Justice Waite. In August 1898, Seeberg experienced a problem that would be a nightmare for any parent: His seventeen-year-old son, Fred, was accused of raping an eleven-year-old girl in Desplaines in broad daylight. All the witnesses, who were eleven and twelve years old, identified young Seeberg and his bicycle, although he claimed he was somewhere else at the time. Hansen got him a stay, got his bond reduced, and must have made the problem go away completely, as nothing about it ever appeared in the newspapers again.)2
On the third day of trial, Hansen was still on the stand undergoing Trude’s snide cross-examination. When Minnie’s attorney accused him of stealing her letters and other papers, Hansen cried out, “I did not! I did not!” and Trude shouted right back at him, “Yes, you did—you stole them!”
At noon, Hansen finally broke down. Trude had been trying to show that he had taken advantage of Minnie by sponging off her and inviting people to eat at her home:
Trude: Why did you not have Judge Shope dine with you and Mrs. Ketcham down-town when you wanted him to enter the case, instead of taking him to the Ketcham house?
Hansen [sobbing uncontrollably]: Because I did not want to parade her in a public hotel. Crowds followed her everywhere and I wanted to save her the notoriety.
Hansen was unable to regain his composure, so the judge took pity on him and ended the session for that day. But Trude, an astute lawyer, decided to take advantage of it in a way that would save face for his client. He could see that, notwithstanding the entertaining sarcasm and drama, Minnie would have to take the stand and refute Hansen’s claims, and he knew she could not do so without perjuring herself and exposing herself to Hugo Pam’s cross-examination. He went for one last jab at the down-and-out plaintiff: “Look at this man in tears. Why, this Niobe in ‘pants’ breaks me all up. Even my client’s hatred of him is turned to sympathy at the sight of his weeping. I am going to offer Hansen the opportunity of settling for what it has cost him to try the case, and if he doesn’t accept it, why God help him.” But Hugo Pam was not fooled by Trude’s theatrics: “I guess you’re a little bit anxious to settle anyway, aren’t you? You’re beginning to have chills when you think of the cross-examination we will give Mrs. Ketcham.”
Trude convinced Minnie to settle the case before she had to take the stand and told the court he did so to spare Dethlef Hansen any further breakdowns. Minnie must have been reluctant, because Trude ended up throwing in $500 of his own money. The settlement was for $3,000, to cover his expenses in attaching the life insurance proceeds, although Hugo Pam said it was in addition to his expenses in that matter.
And so Minnie’s long-running feud with her former coconspirator Dethlef Hansen ended. Hansen found out, to his dismay, who was the abler con artist. He had tried to scam Minnie and ended up being scammed himself. He had probably portrayed his own role in the fleecing of John Berdan Ketcham in a more benign light than was actually the case; however, he wasn’t lying about Minnie’s part. Not only did he have the letters to prove it, but Minnie was also very tellingly silent on this issue and she agreed to a settlement to avoid taking the stand.
Dethlef Hansen must have felt stung by the betrayal of one he had once considered a friend and humiliated by her turning the tables on him. But he had one more card he had not played, and he would soon get his revenge in a very public way.