Monday, Apr. 25, 1960

Le Crime Am

When it comes to crime, Frenchmen take a back seat to no one--except in kidnaping, which French criminals apparently rate a U.S. specialty. The French do not even have a name for it, use the U.S. word, pronounced keednaping. But last week le crime americain was on every Parisian tongue. Little Eric Peugeot, an heir to one of France's greatest industrial (autos, appliances, heavy machinery) fortunes, was stolen in broad daylight and held for $100,000 ransom.

"A Nice Man." As cops got the story, Eric and his older brother, Jean-Philippe, 7, were on an outing to Paris' exclusive Saint-Cloud Golf Club with Grandfather Jean-Pierre Peugeot, 63, titular head of the $40 million empire. While Grandpere played golf, the children were in the care of a nursemaid at the club playground. The maid felt chilly, went back to the car for a wrap and a chat with the Peugeot chauffeur. Ten minutes later, the nurse noticed that Eric was missing. A "nice man" had appeared, whispered "Come" to Eric, and led him away, said Brother Jean-Philippe. Other witnesses saw the kidnaper take Eric through a garden to an alley where an accomplice waited, appropriately enough, in a black Peugeot 403 sedan. A ransom note was found beside the sand pile, addressed to Eric's father, Roland Peugeot, 34, who is general manager of the auto company: "You are a member of the filthy rich. You must cough up 50 million francs if you ever want to see the kid alive again."

For the next two days, while the police shuffled their feet in the background, the family negotiated with Eric's kidnapers. Another letter arrived; there were at least two husky-voiced phone calls with additional instructions. France's press was beside itself (announced Paris' tabloid Paris-Jour: "See pages 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. 7, 14, 15"). Roland Peugeot went on TV to plead tearfully for his son's return: "Everyone who has children and loves them will understand me. I have not brought charges and have asked that the kidnapers not be trailed."

"A Personal Agreement." Some 55 hours after the kidnaping, a passer-by found Eric abandoned at 12:55 one morning, weeping on the sidewalk in front of a bistro near the Arc de Triomphe. The bistro erupted in a fine frenzy of Gallic tears and cheers. The cops were summoned, and then Eric's father, who swept up his son in a blanket and carried him home. He had, reported Roland Peugeot, paid the kidnapers some ransom money, but would not say where or how much. "It was a personal agreement, and I am the only one to know what happened."

Across France, the Surete mobilized for the man hunt. Paris buzzed with speculation that the kidnaping was an inside job: the timing was too perfect. But it might simply have been a case of a couple of bored hoods deciding to try that novel crime americain for a change of pace. Only a fortnight before, Paris-Presse had told them just how to go about it in a 16-part series dredging up every last detail of the Lindbergh case.

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