Something Borrowed ...

ARMY & NAVY

Princess Sophie von Hesse could hardly be expected to face a second marriage unadorned by at least one trinket from the storied family jewel chest.

She had consulted her mother-in-law, Princess Margareta, of the German House of Hesse, about the sentimental privilege. The 74-year-old sister of Kaiser Wilhelm II had hesitated; there were complications. Friedrichshof, her turreted, 80-room castle near the Hessian town of Kronberg, was overrun with American officers who seemed to be using it for a Bierhalle while she existed in an eight-room cottage near by. There was a person in charge at the Kronberg castle--a self-assured female captain named Nash. She would have to be asked about the royal heirlooms. Unfortunately they had been buried in a lead-lined box in a hole in the subcellar.

In April Princess Sophie went to Kronberg. But Captain Nash had returned to the U.S. and none of her successors knew anything about the priceless jewels. In the subcellar was nothing but a litter of wine bottles, and an empty hole. Princess Sophie then complained to the U.S. Army. Where were the jewels?

The Chase. Last week the Army had the answer. The Hesse heirlooms, including fistfuls of diamonds, rubies and emeralds, gemmed bracelets, solid gold service pieces, a red plush autograph book first signed in 1603, and a gold-bound Bible--a wedding gift of England's Queen Victoria to her daughter and Crown Prince Frederick William of Prussia--were on exhibit in the Army Public Relations director's office in Washington. The Army valued them at $3,000,000. While newsmen stared and photographed them, the Army told fantastic bits & pieces of the story of their recovery.

The Army's Criminal Investigation Division had narrowed the suspects to four members of Kronberg's habitues:

WAC Captain Kathleen B. Nash, 43, of Phoenix, Ariz.; Colonel J. W. Durant of Falls Church, Va., whom Captain Nash had just married; Major David F. Watson of Burlingame, Calif.; and a prowling corporal who had discovered the cache under bottle rows of rare old wine. Both the Durants were on terminal leave.

After a month of hide-&-seek, Mrs. Durant was traced to the home of her sister in Hudson, Wis. MPs surrounded the house but Mrs. Durant slipped out the back door, fled by taxi and train to Chicago. She met her husband, and at 5 p.m. on June 2 both registered at the La Salle Hotel. At 2 a.m., just 46 hours before fire crisped their third-floor room (see Disaster), MPs awakened them. Hours later they confessed.

The Station Locker. Following Mrs. Durant's directions, MPs searched the house in Hudson, found some $500,000 in miscellaneous loot. The family was using a 36-piece, solid gold table set in the kitchen. But the most valuable treasure, the $2,500,000 worth of loose gems, was still missing. Colonel Durant had put them in the hands of a fence. Finally, he telephoned the stolen goods dealer, told him the jewels were hot. After an hour the fence called back. Following his direction, Durant led MPs to a dime-in-the-slot locker in Chicago's Illinois Central Station, pulled out a cheap, pasteboard letter box and Opened it. There was a dazzling pile, gathered from all the ruling houses of Europe.

In her cottage near Kronberg, weary Princess Margareta was happy to forego the details to get the jewels back. Even Princess Sophie, who had gone ahead with the wedding, though blushing for lack of decoration, felt a little better about the red-faced U.S. Army.

But the Army was not appeased. The ham-handed amateurs, who had blundered into crime because a corporal could not be moderate in his looting, would be court-martialed.

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