Lindbergh Testifies Regarding Hauptmann's Voice

Over two years after he first heard the voice in the cemetery say, "Hey, Doctor," Lindbergh identified Hauptmann's voice as the one he had heard.

by Russell Aiuto
St. Raymond's Cemetery
On the night of April 2, 1932, one day and one month since the Eaglet had been taken, Lindbergh drove Condon to the appointed spot. It was in another cemetery, St. Raymond's. Condon wandered among the tombstones while Lindbergh, armed with a pistol, waited in the car. No one seemed to be around. As Condon returned to the car to tell Lindbergh that John was not there, a voice called out, "Hey, Doctor!" Both Condon and Lindbergh had heard the voice.

The kidnapper called out again. "Here, Doctor. Over here! Over here!"

Condon returned to the graveyard, and saw a figure. He followed, lost him, then was startled when a crouched figure said, "Hello." It was John.

After a discussion about the whereabouts of the baby, Condon returned to the car to get the money. He had convinced John that there was only $50,000, and took only the box back to the kidnapper. He gave the box to John, who gave him a note, telling Condon that it should not be opened for six hours. The baby was all right, he told Condon, and was being safely kept on a boat called Nelly. John disappeared into the cemetery, and Condon returned to the car and Lindbergh. They drove away.

About a mile from the cemetery, Condon convinced Lindbergh that it would be all right to open the note. It gave the following instructions:

The boy is on the Boad Nelly. It is a small boad 28 feet long. Two persons are on the boad. The are innosent. you will find the Boad between Horseneck Beach and gay Head near Elizabeth Island.

by Russell Aiuto
St. Raymond's Cemetery
"Hey, Doctor!"

Those were the two words
that Colonel Lindbergh swore he heard
on April 2, 1932,
late at night
in a New York cemetery,
where he went with Dr. Condon
to deliver the money
for his baby.

"And since that night, have you heard
that voice again?" asked District Attorney Wilentz.

"Yes, I have," the Colonel replied.
"It was Hauptmann's voice."

There was so much talking and jostling going on
that Judge Trenchard had to bang his gavel
and call:  "Order in the court!"

I wondered how anyone could remember
     one voice
        two words
            in three years.

My uncle whispered:  "We have more that a hundred witnesses to hear, but I can't see
that any jury will dare to disagree
with Lucky Lindy."

Neither can I.

The Trial
by Jen Bryant