National Affairs: Fabulous 'Legger

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In 1930 Mrs. Maude Ault and her son, Robert Eugene, who had been running a gas station near Decatur, Ill., visited Mrs. Ault's brother, Lorenson K. Bandy, in River Forest (Chicago suburb) and told him about a certain Max Orendorff, who: 1) had been one of their farmer acquaintances; 2) had turned bootlegger; 3) had made a fortune in the days when Capone flourished; 4) had been sent to Atlanta. If the Aults could help him get out of prison, said Mrs. Ault, Max Orendorff had promised to make it well worth their while.

Lorenson Bandy, an electrical engineer, agreed to help. He financed several trips costing from $175 to $600, which Son Robert took to get their wealthy friend, Orendorff, freed. Then came the exciting word that he had been released. Then came word that he had died, leaving loyal Maude Ault and her son all his holdings in Illinois and Texas real estate, oil lands worth from $30,000,000 to $50,000,000. To help the Aults collect their vast inheritance, Mr. Bandy put up more money. A Chicago business man named Newton F. Grey, said the Government, invested $76,890. From other investors the Aults got some $40,000 more. But the Orendorff fortune never materialized. Last September, postal investigators decided they knew why.

On trial in U. S. District Court in Danville, Ill. last week were Maude Ault, now a plump matron of 48, and 29-year-old Robert Eugene, who had himself renamed Alt, charged with mail fraud. Indicted with them was James Cleary, who had signed letters soliciting funds, promising repayment when the estate was secured of $200 for $1. The letters claimed that Thomas Edmund Dewey, Supreme Court Justice Harlan Fiske Stone and Chairman Winthrop Aldrich of Manhattan's great Chase National Bank were all interested in the case. Though indicted, James Cleary was not tried, for the good reason that he was imaginary.

Dragged to Danville to testify, Banker Aldrich spent seven minutes on the stand denying that he knew either Maude Ault or Robert Alt, that he had ever seen Max Orendorff. At the end of the first day of trial, it appeared that no mortal man had ever seen Max Orendorff. Robert Alt and his mother, weeping on his arm, changed their plea to guilty and were sentenced to ten years in prison, fined $3,000 each.