Man in the Middle – Frank McNally on John Francis Condon, self-appointed star of the Lindbergh kidnap investigation

Ninety years ago this week, the US was transfixed by what became known as “the crime of the century”. In his journalistic capacity, HL Mencken took the the hyperbole even further and described resulting media coverage as “the greatest story since the resurrection”.

Alas, there was no happy ending to the kidnap of Charles Lindbergh Junior. The 20-month-old son of the aviator had been taken from his cradle at the family home in New Jersey on the night of March 1st, 1932. A ransom was negotiated and paid. But the infant's decomposed remains were found in May, not far from the house.

Death had occurred soon after the kidnapping.

The case produced “literally thousands” of leads, according to the FBI. It was also notable for “a mass of information received from well-meaning but uninformed, highly imaginative individuals, and a deluge of letters written by demented persons, publicity seekers, and frauds.”

Crown jewel – Frank McNally on ‘La Belle Irlandaise’, Joanna Hiffernan

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Troubles shooter – Frank McNally on an encounter with the late PJ O’Rourke

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Boston wrangler – Frank McNally on Myles, Massachusetts, and Dropkick Murphy

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Synonyms of the Fathers – Frank McNally on the complicated ‘fossil history’ of Irish surnames

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Amid this miasma of invention, however, arose the figure of one John Francis Condon, a retired New York school teacher who, despite having no apparent connection to those involved, became the investigation's self-appointed star.

“Jafsie”, as he was soon known (a nickname formed from his initials and used in communications with the kidnappers), was a first generation Irish-American.

In a subsequent memoir, he wrote of his father: "Many years ago, a young man angered by the oppressive laws of his native Ireland, sailed to America. He settled in the Bronx. Out of his stone-cutter's wage, he sent seven of his eight children through university."

During his own youth, Jafsie had been a track athlete with the Irish American Athletic Club. He played baseball too and later for many years managed a team. He once won a medal for saving the life of a boy who had fallen through ice.

But by 1932, he was a 72-year-old part-time lecturer, styling himself “Doctor Condon”, thanks to a PhD. He had become a respected elder in the Bronx. He was also the possessor of an enormous ego. Together, these qualities propelled him to a lead role in the case.

The catalyst, he claimed, was hearing that the Lindberghs had appointed two petty mobsters to investigate, a detail that added outrage to his indignation over this crime against America.

He first volunteered to be a conduit between the family and kidnappers. Then, in a letter to his local newspaper, he offered not only to hand over the $50,000 ransom, but also to top it up with $1,000 from his own savings. In addition, he guaranteed to respect any confidences received as a Catholic priest respected the confessional.

Contact was duly made and a meeting arranged for one night in March at Bronx’s Woodlawn Cemetery, where Condon spoke to a man named “John”, supposedly a Scandinavian sailor, who assured him the baby was safe on a boat somewhere.

The child’s sleeping suit was soon forwarded as proof. So at a second meeting, Condon handed over the ransom, much of it as gold certificates, then still in general circulation.

When the body was discovered, however, his role changed from intermediary to prosecutor, as he pledged to help investigators find “Cemetery John”.

His contributions included reproducing the man’s accent on various phrases he had used, which were now recorded for analysis. “I have inherited, to some extent, the Irish gift of mimicry,” Condon later boasted.

He was himself by then a suspect in then eyes of some. Certainly he enjoyed his prominence in the investigation more than was decent, once stopping a bus he was on to declare his identity and a suspicion that the culprit was on board. He later even took part in a Vaudeville reconstruction of events.

Official suspects for a time included an English servant working for the baby’s grandmother. She took her own life under the pressure and was subsequently cleared. Elsewhere, another Irish-American, the wealthy Evalyn Walsh McLean, parted with $100,000 to a conman who claimed to know the kidnappers.

Meanwhile, analysis of the handwritten ransom notes persuaded investigators that the culprit was a German, recently arrived in America. And the trail of gold certificates led in time to one Bruno Hauptmann, a Bronx carpenter who had emigrated 11 years before. The crime of the century became the trial of the century, with Condon again starring.

One of the phrases he recalled “Cemetery John” using was the question, as paraphrased: “Would I burn if the package were dead?” By “the package”, he meant the baby. By “burn”, he meant the electric chair. The question was finally answered in the affirmative. Hauptmann was executed on April 3rd, 1936, four years after the kidnap, although his guilt remains disputed to this day.