54 years ago...
... On the cold, sunny afternoon of March 8, 1966, Wendy was waiting obediently next to the driveway of her apartment house while her mother fetched the car from the parking lot behind the building. They had planned to go shopping before picking up Wendy’s older sister, Jodi, from Hebrew School, and Wendy was clutching her little change purse, which contained one 1959 quarter—more than enough, in those days, to buy a Hershey bar and a bottle of Coke, or a greeting card along with the stamp to mail it.
Shortly after 4 p.m., a tall, burly, middle-aged man, neatly dressed in a gray fedora, green corduroy coat, and dark trousers walked rapidly away from the center of Elizabeth and toward Wendy’s neighborhood. Minutes earlier, with no provocation, he had hauled off and punched seventh-grade Catholic schoolgirl Diane DeNicola in the eye, knocking her onto the sidewalk of a busy shopping street full of shocked eyewitnesses. Without so much as breaking stride, the man continued into a nearby five-and-ten.
Joseph Cusmano, 50, had been waiting for a bus on Broad Street when he heard Diane’s scream. He and another bystander chased the attacker into Woolworth’s, but, as he said later, by the time he got there, the man “was nowhere in sight. He had a good start.”
At around 4:15, about half a mile from where he had struck Diane, the man in the fedora approached Alisa Pasternak and her mother, Gina, to ask directions to a restaurant. “I looked at his face,” said Mrs. Pasternak in a statement to the police, “and it was pale and lifeless.” The man put his hand on Alisa’s shoulder. “I said to Alisa, ‘Walk, don’t talk,’ and I pushed her ahead. We continued walking and I heard his footsteps behind us, but I didn’t look back.”
The man, gray-faced and mumbling, went on to spook some high school girls on that street and then to accost 18-year-old Clare Moran, asking her how to get to the center of town.
Moments later, the girls watched uncomprehendingly as he attacked Wendy.
“I saw the man move his hand like he was hitting something,” 14-year-old Lynn Norman later told police, “but I didn’t see what it was. Then I saw the man run down Prince Street.”
It was all over in an instant, before anybody seemed to grasp what was happening. Without stopping or saying a word, the man approached Wendy, pulled his arm back and thrust his fist ferociously into her abdomen. She doubled over in pain and shock as the man—not even pausing to glance at her—hurried away, unobtrusively dropping a sheathed hunting knife into the gutter as he fled the scene. In the ensuing chaos, just before police sealed off the area, a delivery truck would park on top of the knife, and it would lie undiscovered under the wheel of the truck until the following day.
Clare Moran ran into fire headquarters for help. Fire Director Edward F. Deignan, 59, immediately called the police to report the attack, which he did not at first think was life-threatening. Wendy was polite and coherent, providing her name and address when he asked for them.
“The child appeared to be in no pain. There was no indication at all of any physical discomfort,” he said in a statement to police. “I immediately asked the young girl who entered my office, who punched the child?”
Life-threatening or not, it was still a brutal attack on a little girl and Chief Deignan was determined to catch the man who did it. After telephoning police headquarters, he ran outside where a cop was writing a parking ticket, and sent him after the man in the fedora, who had disappeared down Prince Street. The policeman pursued him on his motorcycle. But by then the man had vanished.
Leon Yurkus, 42, an Elizabeth bus driver, later reported that a man matching the description of the killer pounded on the doors of the out-of-service bus that he was driving down Prince Street around 4:20 that afternoon. “I could see there was something wrong with this man. He appeared like he was on Cloud 9.” After providing a detailed description, he said, “There is no doubt I would know this man if I saw him again.”
He never saw him again.
A $3,500 reward was posted by the Elizabeth City Council in the
Daily Journal. The newly elected mayor, Thomas G. Dunn, made personal appeals for information on television and radio, as well as in a printed flyer which was distributed nationally. Police Director Gustave Brugger announced that any Elizabeth policeman who apprehended the killer would be automatically promoted to detective.
“We had everybody—every detective, every uniformed man. Everybody wanted to do something for no other special reason than it was a girl, 7 years old,” said John McGuire, who was then a detective sergeant actively involved in the investigation. “But everybody was coming in with nothing.”
“It was incredible,” recalled Charlie Williams. “Cops stayed on the job. They didn’t go home for three or four days. Everybody felt so badly for what this poor girl went through. And they didn’t care—quitting time? No no no no no. They stayed out for days.”
Actors from New York were brought in for a lineup in a local hotel, where they were dressed and made up to try and match eyewitness descriptions of the perpetrator. But as Police Chief Michael D. Roy stood on the sidelines watching, one of the witnesses remarked that he looked more like the killer than the actors did. Chief Roy gamely donned a fedora and green corduroy coat and took his place in the lineup. A photograph of him dressed as the suspect was circulated, and for years after that, people would see him on the street and think he was Wendy’s murderer.
Local art teacher Lee Gaskins drew a compelling sketch of the killer which appeared on wanted posters all over the city. Michael Lapolla told me that his mother kept the poster taped to her refrigerator for years. My own grandmother had a copy of it in her kitchen drawer.
“The police may have been unsuccessful,” said Eddie Johnson, who was put in charge of the case when the Prosecutor’s Office reactivated it in 1995, “but it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
Gradually, though, the leads and tips slowed to a trickle, and Wendy’s name dropped out of the headlines, reappearing on anniversaries of her death to remind us all that another year had passed, and her killer was still at large...
LINK:
Who Murdered Wendy Wolin? The 50-Year-Old Murder That Still Haunts This Town