Handy Man

Roomers in the tenement at No. 328 Henry Street, on Manhattan's lower East Side, were bothered a lot by Walter Ferguson, 45, an unemployed handy man who lived on the third floor. He had religious fits. He shouted a lot, preached the doctrines of Father Coughlin. The only person who could quiet him was Elizabeth ("Lizzie") Schneider, 55, a midget who lived on the fourth floor.

Last week little Lizzie went down to Ferguson's room to reprove him again. "Walter," she piped, outside his door. "Be quiet! Stop making that noise!"

Sam Fox, an insurance collector, was coming down the stairs. He saw Ferguson, naked, reach out and seize little Lizzie, whisk her into his room, slam the door. Fox ran for a policeman. "You can't come in here!" Ferguson shouted to them. "Nobody can come in here but Jesus Christ!"

Fox and the policeman burst Ferguson's door. He was in his bathroom. The tub was full, and in it was Lizzie Schneider. Ferguson was holding her under, drowning her.

The policeman tried to tackle Ferguson, but the mad man, wet and slippery, kicked him away, kept his grip on the midget until she was dead. Fox got three more policemen; Ferguson fought them with chairs, a table, his teeth. They had not subdued him when, suddenly, he stopped fighting, fell dead of a heart attack.

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