German-born carpenter (1899–1936) who became the central figure in the 1932 Lindbergh kidnapping case, dubbed (even at the time) as the “Crime of the Century”; indeed, the journalist H. L. Mencken archly described it as “the biggest story since the Resurrection.” On March 1, 1932, the twenty-month-old Charles Lindbergh, Jr., infant son of the famous flyer and his wife, Anne, disappeared from the nursery of the family home in East Amwell, New Jersey. A note found on the windowsill, written in broken, German-inflected English, demanded a ransom of $50,000. Two months later, after a series of further notes, a rendezvous in a cemetery, and a storm of publicity, a tiny, decomposed corpse was found on a New Jersey roadside, two miles from the Lindbergh home. A disordered, bungled investigation, hampered by Lindbergh’s insistence on assuming a leadership role (he had, after all, no investigative background), eventually led to Bruno Richard Hauptmann. Though Hauptmann was tied to a portion of the ransom money, much of the evidence placing him at the scene of the kidnapping was dubious at best; to complicate matters, rapid disposal prevented definitive identification of the corpse as that of the Lindbergh baby. The extraordinary—that is to say, unprecedented—attention afforded the case created unusual pressure for a conviction, and Hauptmann was found guilty of kidnapping and murder. The outcome of the case has remained controversial ever since, and theories in favor of Hauptmann’s innocence still abound. Extraordinarily rare vintage glossy 8 x 10 photo of a seated Hauptmann with a startling, broad grin on his face, signed and inscribed in fountain pen, “To my good counsel, Egbert Rosencrans, Sincerely, Bruno Richard Hauptmann.” Rosecrans had the unenviable task of demonstrating “reasonable doubt” in Hauptmann’s defense—a virtual impossibility, given the foregone conclusion of Hauptmann’s guilt in the court of public opinion. After Hauptmann’s guilty verdict, Rosencrans filed an appeal based on putative breaches of the Fourteenth Amendment (due process) and Sixth Amendment (the trial was held in a different district from that in which the crime was committed). Denied in his attempt to secure a mistrial, Rosencrans was forced to concede defeat, and Hauptmann went to the electric chair on April 3, 1936. In very good condition, with scattered dings, light bends, and surface marks, slight trimming to edges, and signature somewhat light and indistinct (though visible) against background. While all autograph material of Hauptmann is uncommon, the present item—the only known signed image of him—may rightly be regarded as unique. A truly remarkable relic from one of the most celebrated cases in the annals of crime! R&R COA.
