The Chilling 1972 Mystery of Lynn Schuller and the Alligator Named Pogo

 

Lynn Schuller was a 25-year-old mother living the suburban dream in Cedar Rapids with her husband, Keith, and their three-year-old son, Eric. On the surface, the couple enjoyed a picture-perfect life. They’d tied the knot in 1967 and welcomed their first child in 1969. Life was good, right? But as often happens, appearances can be deceiving.

Keith dropped a bombshell on Lynn in 1971. He wanted a divorce. But Lynn wasn’t ready to give up on her marriage and refused. He kept pushing, but she wouldn’t sign the papers.

Things went sideways. Fast. Lynn wrote a letter to her mother, Eloise Tickner, in 1972, confiding Keith had threatened to kill her. But she quickly dismissed it, saying, “He would never do anything like that.” Was it denial? Or wishful thinking?

Fast forward a few months.

It’s August 6, 1972. Keith told authorities: He woke up early, left the house with their son around 7:30 a.m. to take his son fishing, and let Lynn sleep in. When they returned just after noon, Lynn and her bicycle were gone. No note. No trace—just gone.

Murder of Marlene "Mickey" Padfield Lisbon Iowa 1959

 

When Marlene “Mickey” Padfield, 17, of Lisbon, Iowa, disappeared on February 18, 1959, it was assumed she’d run away. There was a small notice in The Cedar Rapids Gazette the next day, then nothing for nearly two months. But that all changed on April 29 when the skeleton of a young woman was found on a section of timberland near Roy White’s farm.

White said his dogs walked up to him carrying what looked like bones. When he checked, it was a human hand. He did a little digging and found a skeleton lying on a nearby road. Apparently, the dogs dragged it out of the timber.

Ethel Padfield, Marlene’s mother, identified the remains by the blouse she was wearing and the color of her fingernail polish. More of Marlene’s clothes turned up in May—her purse, a shoe, and her underwear, but none of them helped detectives piece together what happened to her. Her skirt turned up the following February, and pieces of her slip after that.

A pathologist examined the remains but couldn’t determine the cause of death because there wasn’t enough soft tissue left to test. The skeleton didn’t provide any clues—there weren’t any broken bones or other clues to show foul play.

Detectives spent the next few weeks piecing together the girl’s life and last days.

Marlene was described as an attractive, brown-haired girl who tried a little too hard to be popular during her junior year. She had short hair above the ears, with curls up front—stood 5 foot four, weighed 112 pounds, was smart, aggressively friendly, and wanted everyone to like her.

She joined the band and acted in the school play, “Our Hearts Were Young and Gay.” And then, six weeks into her senior year, Marlene decided it was too much. School bored her, and she wasn’t learning anything worthwhile, so she dropped out and ran through a string of low-wage jobs, earning $28 to $32 a week. She worked as a waitress at several restaurants, clerked at Mongomery Ward, then got a job as a bookkeeper at J & T Radio and Television Repair.

Ethel Padfield dropped Marlene off at J & T Radio and Television Repair in Cedar Rapids on February 18. She talked to her daughter on the phone several times during the day, and said her daughter planned to take the bus home.

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.

Killian's When Shopping Downton Felt Like An Experience

 

Before malls came along and pulled everything under one roof, you went downtown. Not once in a while. All the time. And if you were in Cedar Rapids, Killian’s was part of that trip whether or not you planned it.

You didn’t walk in thinking, “I need to buy something.” You walked in because it was there. Because everyone went in, and it felt like something was happening inside.

Enormous doors. That blast of cooler air in the summer. That department store smell—clothes, perfume, candy, all mixed together.

And if you were a kid, you weren’t thinking about shopping. You were heading straight for the escalator.

Up. Down. Up again. No reason. Nobody stopped you unless you got stupid about it. Same deal with the elevators. Half the fun was just riding them. If there was an operator in there, even better. It felt like you were getting away with something.

Quaker Oats Baseball Team Cedar Rapids 1929

Quaker Oats baseball team champions of the M and J league.

Top row (left to right): S. Dale, manager, W. Heck, J. Bunting, M. Koch, Ed O’Connell, C. Prabel, G. Cronkite, and T. Hardiman.

Bottom row (left to right): F. Kerres, H. Gallagher, E. Bishop, H. Michaels, G. Garden, and E. Smith.

Cocker, the team mascot, in foreground.

Picture: Cedar Rapids Gazette. September 8, 1929.

Downtown Cedar Rapids, Iowa Circa 1910

Downtown Cedar Rapids, Iowa, with a birds-eye view of the Quaker Oats plant. (from a vintage postcard, circa 1910)