Murder At The Roosevelt Hotel

 

Roosevelt Hotel in Cedar Rapids

Byron Hattman, a 29-year-old aerospace engineer with Emerson Electric, was murdered in room 729 of the Roosevelt Hotel in Cedar Rapids on December 14, 1948. The crime scene showed evidence of a violent struggle, with blood splattered on all four walls and knife marks etched into the plaster. Hattman was found face down on the floor, with a stab wound in his lower chest and several gashes on his head, face, and hands.

A maid discovered the body shortly after 7 a.m. the next morning. Detectives noted the door was locked from the outside, but Hattman’s key was found under the bed. The locked door seemed puzzling until a bellhop explained keys from nearby rooms could open others; for instance, the key for room 725 could unlock room 729.

As investigators dug into Hattman’s life, they uncovered several oddities. His landlord, Alvin Steinke, mentioned Hattman had recently been the victim of several “annoyances,” including someone placing a stud-filled plank in front of his car just a week earlier. And his personal life had taken a hit. Hattman, once an active dater, had become more withdrawn in recent months, dating once a month, if that.

Adding to the mystery was a peculiar chicken sculpture found in the trunk of Hattman’s car—two chicken bones attached to a cloth with the words “Lest you forget” underneath. Coworkers Paul Deam and Fred Gaez explained a woman Hattman dated gave him the bones as a playful reminder of a picnic where they enjoyed fried chicken together. That seemed strange and stalkerish.

There was also evidence suggesting robbery as a motive. Hattman took a $150 advance on his expense account before leaving St. Louis, but his wallet was found empty near his body. His eyeglasses and the murder weapon were also missing.

Several witnesses provided crucial details that aided the investigation.

L. W. Sheets, a guest in room 717, heard a commotion around 5:30 p.m. It sounded like a “wrestling match” followed by a man yelling, “Stop, you’re killing me!” Sheets checked the hallway but saw nothing.

Eugene Potstock, in room 629 directly below Hattman’s, heard what sounded like a brutal fight but saw no one and dismissed it.

Hattman and Rutledge fighting in room 729 at the Roosevelt Hotel

And cab driver, Wayne Jeffords, recalled picking up a man with bandages on his face outside the Roosevelt Hotel at about 6 p.m. He drove him to Union Station, then the bus depot. A few moments later, the man walked out and disappeared into an alley.

Cedar Rapids police inspector Bill Kudrna said the department worked tirelessly to solve the case, aided by three key clues:

(1) Margaret Bell, a hotel maid, saw a man enter Hattman’s room around 1:45 p.m. while she was cleaning. The man returned a few minutes later, breathing hard and complaining about the stairs. He stayed in the room after she left.

(2) Employees at Collins Radio Company said Hattman had been having trouble with a St. Louis doctor who accused him of trying to steal his wife.

(3) Bee Nichols, a finance manager at Handler Motor Company, said Dr. Robert Rutledge established a credit account for car repairs, but she became suspicious when he called the next day to say he’d mailed a check for $15.31. She called the sheriff’s department to report the incident.

Inspector Kudrna did some digging into Dr. Robert Rutledge and learned he stayed at the Montrose Hotel on December 6 and 11. Further investigation revealed Hattman dated Dr. Rutledge’s wife, Sydney Rutledge, a mathematician at Emerson Electric. 

The pieces were coming together.

Taxi driver Wayne Jeffords identified Dr. Rutledge as the man he picked up outside the Roosevelt Hotel on the night Hattman was murdered. His description matched that given by the hotel maid, Margaret Bell.

Hotel maid Margaret Bell found Hattman's body the next morning

At that point, Kudrna was sure he had his man.

Detectives arrested Dr. Rutledge at his St. Louis home on December 17, but while en route to the police station, Rutledge suddenly passed out, sweating and foaming at the mouth. He was rushed to the hospital, where it was discovered that he had taken a sleeping potion. Upon regaining consciousness, Rutledge told detectives, “I would be better off dead. My career is ruined now, anyway.”

The doctor quickly confessed to everything. He waited for Hattman in his hotel room that day, intending to have it out with him over his wife. The confrontation escalated into a knock down drag out fight. “Hattman kicked me in the eye, then pulled a knife on me.”

Rutledge fought back, disarming Hattman, but didn’t remember stabbing him. He left the hotel room, battered and bruised, with a broken nose and a black eye.

Sydney Rutledge confirmed the affair, saying she had gone on a few dates with Hattman in July, despite being married. When her husband found out, he and Hattman began arguing on the phone, and soon the dispute turned into an ongoing feud. 

The story she told detectives matched her husband’s. He arrived home in St. Louis at about midnight on the night of the murder. He waited for Hattman in his room. They got into a nasty fight, and Hattman pulled a knife. He got it away from him, knocked Hattman out, and left.

Rutledge didn’t know Hattman was dead until he read about it in the newspaper the next day.

The day after the murder, police revealed the weapon might have been Byron Hattman’s black-handled clasp knife. Mrs. Alvin Steinke, his landlord’s wife, said Hattman usually carried the knife with him.

Dr. Rutledge told detectives he took the knife from Hattman during their struggle, suggesting it might have been self-defense. Rutledge maintained that he never stabbed Hattman. However, he took the knife with him when he left the hotel room and discarded it on his way back to St. Louis.

Here’s the core of Dr. Rutledge’s statement to Detective Sergeant Maurice O’Neal:

Byron Hattman called him repeatedly, making lewd comments about his wife, demanding he divorce her so she could have fun with him. Rutledge went to Cedar Rapids to talk with Hattman. If that failed, he planned to buy him off.

Hattman pulled his wallet out of his pocket, showing Rutledge he had plenty of money. He didn’t need his.

That made him mad, so he punched Hattman, knocking him to the ground with a single punch. Hattman got up, knife in hand, and attacked him. He grappled with Hattman, throwing him to the floor, then grabbed the knife.

Hattman got up and came at him again. “I took the knife away from him and jabbed him a number of times to keep him away.”

The next thing he knew, Hattman was lying unconscious on the floor.

He went in the bathroom to wash the blood off his face, then went back into the room and grabbed the money from the floor, the knife, and Hattman’s glasses. He left the hotel room, got in his car, and drove back to St. Louis. On the way home, he threw away all the money, the knife, and Hattman’s glasses. When he saw the blood on his shirt, he burned it.

Sydney Rutledge was questioned separately at home.

She admitted to the affair with Hattman, saying they had met in February after she started working at Emerson Electric. In July, they went boating with other employees, but a week later, they went boating alone. Things got out of hand. “We had too many drinks and ended up in my apartment,” she confessed.

When her husband found out about the affair, tensions escalated, eventually leading to the violent confrontation between Rutledge and Hattman at the Roosevelt Hotel. Her husband had even hired a private detective to follow Hattman.

Detectives matched the evidence they had to Dr. Rutledge’s statement. Rutledge made it sound like self-defense, but investigators found several discrepancies that made them believe he was lying.

Mrs. Steinke made it sound like Dr. Rutledge was making the threatening calls, not Hattman. She said her tenant got calls at all hours of the day and night, and one time, she heard him tell Rutledge to talk to his lawyer.

Rutledge’s description of the knife was another problem. Coroner Robert Brody determined that the knife used to kill Hattman had at least a six-inch blade. Hattman’s knife had a three-inch blade, so it couldn’t have been the murder weapon.

And finally, Byron Hattman’s father, John Hattman, said Dr. Rutledge phoned him in Pennsylvania several times, asking him to “make his son stay away from his wife.”

Based on the above information, Linn County Attorney William Crissman charged Dr. Rutledge with first degree murder, and a bench warrant was issued for his arrest. At the same time, St. Louis officials released Rutledge on a $5,000 bond.

The only problem was getting Rutledge to Cedar Rapids so he could stand trial. On January 5, 1949, Missouri Governor Phil Donnelly refused to sign Rutledge’s extradition papers, saying they didn’t meet the federal government’s requirements. The law required a grand jury indictment or an affidavit before a magistrate. Iowa provided neither.

Dr. Rutledge surrendered at the Linn County Sheriff’s office on March 23 and was booked on the first-degree murder charge.

The trial, which began in May, dragged on for nearly a month.

In his opening statement, County Attorney William Crissman said Rutledge beat Byron Hattman “brutally, savagely, and cruelly.” Rutledge’s attorney, W. J. Barngrover, said his client acted in self-defense, “and luck was with him.”

Barngrover’s opening statement changed the narrative. He painted a picture of a drunken Hattman who called Rutledge and said, “I never beat a [prostitute] out of a fee in my life.” He promised to send the fee the next day, and Rutledge received a quarter.

The two men met in that hotel room in December. “The knife changed hands. What took place only God and Doctor Rutledge knows… Rutledge left that room not knowing Hattman was dead.”

Then he explained how Hattman had gotten Sydney Rutledge drunk and seduced (maybe raped her) after leaving the boat on July 31. All he asked was that the jury “withhold judgment of Mrs. Rutledge” until they heard the full story.

Sydney Rutledge testified Hattman dragged her into the bedroom of her apartment, “pushed her down on the bed and had intimate relations with her.”

“Did you consent to it?” asked Defense attorney Sid Miller.

“No. I was trying to plead with him to leave me alone… I tried to push him away, but I felt very faint and dizzy.”

John Wilkerson, a St. Louis private detective, testified Hattman wanted $2,000 to leave Mrs. Rutledge alone. When Wilkerson told him that sounded like blackmail, and maybe he’d take it to Emerson Electric, Hattman threatened him and Dr. Rutledge. And last October, Hattman pulled a knife on him in the parking lot of a St. Louis restaurant.

Rutledge said the same thing on the witness stand. “He [Hattman] said if I’d give him $2,000, he’d go to California… I said that amounted to blackmail and he said he didn’t think it did.”

But Hattman wasn’t the only one asking for money. Byron Hattman’s attorney, Milton Moldafsky, said Rutledge contacted his client demanding $250 to pay for an abortion for his wife. “He did not want any child that was not his.”

Ray Strother, an employee at Emerson Electric, testified Sydney Rutledge dressed provocatively at work. “When they’ve got a tight white sweater on,” he said, “I can’t miss them.”

Another co-worker, Juanita Lewis, refuted Strother’s testimony. She thought Mrs. Rutledge dressed tastefully. And as Mrs. Rutledge said, it was unlikely she would have worn a sweater in July.

Perhaps it was her looks. Sydney Rutledge was six feet tall, with a shapely athletic figure and honey blonde hair. She was a perfect match for Dr. Robert Rutledge, whom the papers dubbed the “handsome doctor.” He was tall and athletic, with wavy brown hair.

On May 29, the jury convicted Dr. Rutledge of second-degree murder. He was sentenced to 70 years’ hard labor in the state penitentiary at Fort Madison, with the promise of parole with good behavior.

Rutledge appealed to the Supreme Court and was released on a $40,000 bond in May 1950, pending the outcome of a new trial. After his release, Rutledge returned to his home in Houston, Texas, and opened a children’s clinic on the city’s north side.

He committed suicide on April 4, 1951, after learning the Iowa Supreme Court turned down his appeal. Before doing it, Rutledge mailed a letter to his wife:

Dear Diddy: 

Sorry to run out on you like this, but I think it’s best for you this way. There is a good future for you if you can just forget all about this. Love is a fleeting thing at best, and time will cure a lot of grief.

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