My three older sisters, Julie, Sarina, and Abbey, would assert the roots of this project date back to my “G-man” fixation during the summer of 1977.
We were driving to the West Coast from the Chicago area, and my reading material for the trip included FBI tales of heroism and ingenuity. My fascination with crime fighting and J. Edgar Hoover was matched only by my love of the Chicago Cubs and outfielder José Cardenal.
Roughly six years earlier, a man known as D. B. Cooper hijacked a Northwest Orient Boeing 727 plane and parachuted out somewhere between Seattle and Portland with a $200,000 ransom. He was described as roughly six feet tall, in his mid-forties, and was last seen wearing a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie.
For the three weeks of our trip, every day—multiple times per hour, at times—this seven-year-old aspiring special agent implored his parents and sisters to call the police anytime we saw a man in a dark suit. The fact that in the five-plus years since the crime he had likely changed outfits at least once was clearly lost on me.
Because my sisters weren’t interested in solving crimes, I occupied myself on that trip out west by reading. I distinctly remember learning about the kidnapping of Charles A. Lindbergh Jr. and how the subsequent investigation including forensic science sparked a modernizing of the FBI.
So some thirty-five years later, when a colleague of mine at Wisconsin Public Television mentioned to me that the ladder used in the Lindbergh kidnapping was here in Madison, at the US Forest Products Laboratory, I immediately picked up the phone to learn more.
It turned out the ladder at FPL was only a replica, but the story of Arthur Koehler, who once studied parts of the original ladder there and became, in the words of journalists, “the Sherlock Holmes of our era,” was new to me.
In fact, Koehler knew far more about botany than Sherlock Holmes did, as I learned from Holmes expert Resa Haile in Janesville, Wisconsin. She provided me with detailed information about how the world’s most famous detective fared in the world of botany. This project would not have gotten off the ground without the help of Rebecca Wallace and Julie Blankenburg at the Forest Products Lab. I greatly appreciate their efforts to find all things Koehler-related in the files there. Their colleague, Dr. Rick Green, challenged me from the get-go to ask questions, dig deeper, and probe further. I hope the efforts displayed here meet his high standards of approval.
Former FPL employees Dr. Regis Miller, Robert Kurtenacker, and Diana Smith were also extremely helpful. The personnel files of the lab employees at the center of this case were provided by Ashley Mattingly, an archivist with the National Archives and Records Administration. Family members, including John Marshall Cuno and Yvonna Cuno, supplemented those findings with personal details.
My family is a great support system, serving as early readers and as constant listeners throughout the process. My parents, Joyce and Leonard Schrager; my in-laws, Geneva and Bill Jokerst; and my aunt, June Sochen, a former college history professor and author, deserve particular thanks.
Honestly, there was a time, with three kids under six, that I didn’t think I would finish this project. That’s only because I did not want to miss a moment with my constant sources of joy, our three children, Harper, Clark and Payton. Realistically, though, without the help of my wife and best friend, Cathy, this book would not be a reality. What can you say to the person who makes you better? “Thank you” simply doesn’t seem like enough.
My friends Rob Witwer, Will Steinberg, Bob Delaporte, Phil Yau, Josh Mitzen, Rebecca Fitzgerald, Tony Barkow, Adam Benson, Jim Wilson, Christy Tetzler, Eli Stokols, and Eleanor Atkeson have listened to me drone on about this story for a while, as have numerous colleagues, particularly Ryan Ward and Bruce Johnson.
The executive producer of my unit, Christine Sloan-Miller, whose father worked to preserve Wisconsin’s great outdoors during his career with the Department of Natural Resources, recognized the value of this story and allowed me to pursue it in my free time. I thank her for that.
My former Colorado colleague Dan Weaver provided some background on his home state of South Carolina. Another former colleague, Nicole Vap, helped me track down an interview subject in Australia.
When it came to researching the criminal case against Bruno Hauptmann, Michael Melsky, Dr. Lloyd Gardner, Jim Fisher, Kelvin Keraga, and Kevin Klein provided invaluable insights. One of the nation’s preeminent archivists, Fred MacDonald, sent me video of the crime scene, of the courthouse in Flemington, New Jersey, and more, bringing the years 1932 to 1935 to life for me.
My neighbor here in Madison, Elizabeth Kingston, opened up her house, where Arthur Koehler used to live, and let me hang out in what was Koehler’s study one afternoon to see what vibes I might be able to feel.
The soundtrack I listened to while writing was once again supplied by the KBCO Studio C Channel. I may have moved out of Colorado, but it’s nice to know there’s a still a great song available to me at any time online. Jennifer Ryan, Melanie Roth, and Jack Lenzo at Fulcrum Publishing, also located in Colorado, have been a joy to work with.
Unlike many authors today, I am fortunate to be able to contact my publisher directly. Sam Scinta approved this project on one of the many calls he’s received from me that start with me saying, “I’ve got an idea.” His confidence in me supersedes my own, and I am forever indebted to him for that faith.
On Sam’s request and with Terry Frei’s strongest of recommendations in mind, I met Kate Thompson for coffee and a conversation about this project before she ever laid eyes on anything I’d written. She has since hooked me on the Avett Brothers and endowed me with a better appreciation of the Chicago Manual of Style, even if I do find that guidebook archaic and unwieldy. I’ve always believed the best editors make writers and authors out of storytellers. I knew going into this that Arthur Koehler’s story was a fantastic one, and if it’s told well in the subsequent pages, a great deal of credit goes to Kate.
There is no one who studies the Lindbergh case without paying homage to Mark Falzini, the archivist at the New Jersey State Police Museum. He oversees the 250,000-plus documents, exhibits, and artifacts associated with the case, and he’s forgotten far more about this case than I will ever know. I cannot say enough about how much help he provided me, but more importantly, in Mark I’ve found a new friend who’s generous with his time, intelligent, funny, a terrific author himself, and a heckuva bagpiper in his free time.
Finally, there could be no book about Arthur Koehler without the aid of his son, George Koehler. He and his wife, Margie, could not have been more gracious, opening up their home and their private records to me in the process. As the caretakers of Arthur’s letters to his wife and to his brothers and parents for decades, they have shared more than I could have imagined. I truly hope I have treated their family story with the respect it deserves. They have my sincere gratitude and admiration.
It’s a long way from a family driving trip to a biography about the father of forensic botany. But as Arthur Koehler would often say, “Go as far as you can see, and then see how far you can go.”