 Good evening. This is Crime Classics. I am Thomas Highland, with another true story of crime. Listen. That was Aaron Leathers demonstrating a broom. A broom he had made with his own hands. Aaron was a gypsy, and he knew the broom making secret handed down from the master broomers of Romany. Demonstration. The floor of Mrs. McGee's parlor in her cottage, right outside of Rutland, Vermont. The year, 1850. And Aaron was very proud of his handiwork. Watch. Oh! Watch. Oh! Someone threw a doll through the window, Aaron. It's dressed like a gypsy, and its heads all twisted, like it was dead. And see, it looks like you, Aaron. Tonight, in my report to you on Widow McGee and the Three Gypsies of Vermont, Fandango. Crime Classics. A series of true crime stories taken from the records and newspapers of every land, from every time. Your host each week, Mr. Thomas Highland, connoisseur of crime, student of violence, and teller of murders. Once again, Mr. Thomas Highland. Not very many people migrate from Karga, Egypt to Vermont. But the Leathers family did, by way of Budapest. Of course, it took a few hundred years to get from one place to the other, but the Leathers family was gypsy, and they had time on their hands. So, they migrated. They finally arrived in 1815, and they found the country good. Lakes and mountains and a good source of fine New England straw, with which to weave their baskets and make their brooms. And, by the time mid-century rolled around, the pride and joy of the tribe were three cousins. I'm Eben. I weave baskets, and I wear a gold ring in my ear. I like to eat, and I like to walk in the sun. I'm Aaron. Brooms are my specialty, and I wear gold rings in both my ears. My eyes are blue. My sight of the family came through Ireland. I like nights of the small moon best. Hi. I'm Noah, and I'm very nimble. I like to jump over things and turn somersaults. Watch. And you noticed, of course, my hands were behind my back. I like a plump moon. Eben, Aaron, and Noah. And there was a ritual they had. There was a certain night each year when the sky was orange and purple, when they would come together. He's nimble, and still he's always the last. No, he'll be here for listen. Oh, cousins, you're late. I could have stayed at home and eaten another shard of grass. You're always late. Yes, I know. But now, let's get on with it. Let's have a meeting. Eben? Yes. Of a knife is sharp. Give me your arm, cousin Eben. Now yours, cousin Aaron, and now mine. Now, cousins, we'll press together each to the other, the small wounds, and make our oath. Go, John. Go out. Go out. Sad knock. Sad knock. C-3. Ram. Crocho. Orobas. And so, once again, we swear it, to keep pure the gypsy blood, to add only with gypsy matins, on pain of death. On pain of death. Well, Aaron? On pain of death. Right. And remember it. Good night, cousins. Aaron? Yes, cousin Eben. Look at him. Cousin Noah is very nimble, isn't he? Oh, yes. Aaron, have a sandwich? Gross. No. No, thank you, cousin. Aaron. What is it? Cousin Eben. Nice order you had this morning from Widow McGee. Oh. Oh, yes. I think you'd like to know about Widow McGee. As she was a young widow and very beautiful and affectionate. And because she was these things, a cruel rumor had it that in her garden often was seen a sprite dancing in the starlight in a kind of pavane to the moon. A cruel rumor had it also that this dancing sprite was none other than Widow McGee. It should be mentioned also that her husband had perished from a strange malady. From a robust man, he just seemed to dwindle. A medical fact which was ascribed to his journeys in the tropics as a young sailor. As such was the young widow's misfortune. Is it any wonder then that the next morning when that happened, when her door was tapped upon, she immediately donned her finest smile, threw open the door for glad companion's sake. Oh, good morning. Good morning, Gypsy. Come in. Come in. I've brought your two brooms and your baskets three. What blue eyes are yours in the morning light? I've tied the brooms in a special way, I know. And what black curls are yours? And I've weaved a special weave for the baskets. And swore these skin and ears pierced with gold. Where shall I put them? They're where you stand. And your name is Aaron you told me yesterday. Yes. Oh, such a name. Such a wizard of a name. Are you a wizard, Aaron? Gypsy Aaron? Is there darkness in you, Aaron? What do you mean, ma'am? Don't ma'am me, Aaron. Rachel, I am. Rachel? Is there darkness in you? Do you gamble in the gardens on starry nights and sing strange hymns in a strange tongue? Well... Of course you do, swarthy lad. Gypsy lad. Fawn. Fawn? Yes. Oh, yes. I've got to go. Do you want to sing another order? Rachel. Rachel? Two brooms and a basket. Tomorrow. Well, say what's on your mind, cousin Noah. First a few steps ahead till we'll reach our secluded place where the blood bars are made. What mystery is this cousin of the solemn look upon you? Tell me why you woke me from my cabin. Now, well... You've noticed it too, haven't you, cousin? Noticed what? Of cousin Aaron. What of him? How he moons. Moons? As if a spell of love were on him. Love? Well then, is that not good for surely there are too few of us and since he is in love therefore he will take wife and where there is wife there will be gypsy toddlings. Do you know a gypsy maid named Rachel? Rachel? Rachel. When I went low to his sleeping I've heard him say the name Rachel McGee. And more. What? I've followed him. Why? For the reason of his moaning and his order book is fat with the name of Widow McGee. By this time the widow has a broom for each corner of each room and a basket for each garment. Then Aaron flourishes. And forgets his vow. You remember the vow, cousin? Of course. Then say it with me yet once again. For what reason? To reaffirm. Oh yes. Gusion. Gusion. Go up. Go up. Sad Mark. Sad Mark. Seatree. Round. A crochet. Or a boss. And therefore you know what has to be done. Kill Aaron. If he has love for one outside the tribe or so is the vow you have just said. Yes. I will follow him and I will make sure. Yes. One more. What? This. This thing I have buried here. A doll. An image of Aaron. I buried here. Let it be immersed in death. Let it become of Aaron. Yes. Well, my supper is waiting. I'm starved. Good night, cousin. Good morning. Good morning, Gypsy. Hello, Rachel. Hello, love. Rachel. Your lips at the taste of wild berries. Because you were wild. I want to show you something. What? The broom I brought you this morning. It's a special one. Oh, Aaron. I cured the straw in a different way. So watch. Oh. Oh. Someone threw a doll through the window, Aaron. It's dressed like a gypsy. It looks like you. And its head is all twisted. Aaron. What does this mean, Aaron? Aaron, why do you stand there with head bowed down? I must die. What? I must die. Oh, Aaron, what are you talking about? We're going to get married. No. Why not? I've been coming here each day for nearly two months now, bringing brooms and baskets. And I fear for nearly that long. I've been followed. And my love for you seen and my proposal of marriage heard. I don't understand. And now this doll. I must die. But why? I've broken a terrible vow. Oh, Aaron, stop that nonsense and... Come here. Aaron. Why not? I have nothing more to lose. And he told her many things. Strange gypsy lore of other nights, the dark forests of Mud Yar country, the mountain lakes of Tuscany, and the singing stone of a lost and dim place in the Urals. And he taught her strange songs, forbidden melodies of doomed gypsy kings, and what croonings to make to turn off a star. And she looked into the moon pools that were his eyes. And she wept. And later... I'll never forget you, gypsy lad. Never. And she knew it was time for him to go. Fare you well. Cousins? You need not signal, cousins. I know you are there. Nor will I flee from you. For I have made a vow and I have broken it. And I must suffer for it. And I must die. A gypsy named Aaron Leathers was found in the woods a few days later. His head had been twisted with such violence that it had snapped his neck. Inquiries were made and the police decided he had met with an accident of undetermined origin. It was also noted that for nearly a week after the occurrence, no sprites danced in Mrs. McGee's garden. You are listening to Crime Classics and your host, Thomas Highland. Saturday night at the Star's Address, you're in for plenty of hard riding adventure on Gunsmoke, presented by CBS Radio for the pleasure of Western fans. Gunsmoke takes us back to Pioneer Dodge City, for you will follow the latest thrilling exploits of United States Marshal Matt Dillon. Saturday night, Gunsmoke on most of these same stations. Now, once again, Thomas Highland and the second act of Crime Classics. And his report to you on Widow McGee and the Three Gypsies of Vermont, Fandango. They were cutting Vermont granite into tombstones in 1850 more than usual, for this was the time of mad Gerson Hayward's raiders who swarmed across Lake Champlain into the United States to create havoc and devastation and death, only to drown to a man trying to get back into Canada. And over the graves grew the red clover, for this was the time of spring and the lark, and this was the time of the lamb. And outside of Rutland, a gypsy boy named Aaron Leathers was buried too according to the rites of his tribe, buried and almost as soon forgotten, except for the few words that were being spoken about him. He deserved to die. He did deserve to die. He broke a vow. His death and right. Twisting his neck was easy. It is right that I helped. For what he did, loved not one of the tribe. Is rightly dead. We'll speak no more of it. Then good night, cousin. Good night. See how he runs and leaps. My cousin is indeed nimble. Well, time to eat. Everybody would remark how nimble Noah was, grace personified, jumping and leaping and tumbling and pirouetting. Some people would choose the long way home or the short way home, but he would always choose the hard way home so he could jump and leap and tumble. Well, I just thought I'd mention it. Cousin even, however, was a plauder. A door-to-door man, as it were. So cousin Aaron, being now dead, he took over his route. And it was inevitable then that this happened. Good morning, Gypsy. I... Come in. Come in. I saw brooms and baskets. How dark your eyes are. This broom now. See how it makes the dust fairly fly? And how curly your hair. And this basket woven so tight with willows that tea could be poured into it and it would hold. And swore the skin and one golden earring. Ma'am? Rachel. Rachel? Yes. Would you care to place an order, Rachel? I have all the brooms I need. And baskets too. Oh. Once there was a Gypsy boy named Aaron. My name is Eben. He was gentle and he spun a spell about me. My name is Eben. Eben. Oh, such a name. Such a wizard of a name. Are you a wizard, Eben? May I put these brooms and baskets down? I want you to. Aaron used to tell me stories of far places and weave spells. Once upon a time in far summer can, that's very far. In a magical place, a very magical place where spells were woven, lived a handsome prince. Oh, my. He was so handsome that it was said that each time he walked the golden streets, a maiden's heart would burst. Oh, my. Cousin Noah. Been waiting long, cousin Eben? No, not too long. Know why I asked you to meet me here? Why? You've been moaning. Moaning? Like a man in love. Have I? Like Aaron used to do. How do you mean? Seeing you weave a greenweed into a basket so loose it wouldn't hold a watermelon. I call that moaning. Well, you're wrong, cousin. I hope I'm wrong, cousin. Because of the oath, because of the vow. Well, you're wrong, cousin. And there's no girl who has your heart? None. And if there was a girl who had your heart, she'd be a gypsy? She'd be a gypsy. And not an outsider? And not an outsider. Cousin? Yes, cousin. Why are you looking at me like that? Like what? As if you think I'm lying to you. Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no. No, no, no. Which was in itself a lie for Noah didn't believe cousin even from there to Burlington and back again. He had seen the symptoms before and just to make sure on a warm night when cousin even slept beneath a tree Noah and his quiet, graceful and agile way sneaked up upon him and put his ear close and this is what he heard. Rachel. Rachel McGee. Oh, I love you. Then Noah sneaked away again and into the clearing where the blood oaks had been made and there he fashioned a doll. It was a straw doll and the resemblance between it and even was remarkable. Then he broke the doll's neck. The next day, even not knowing that Noah had fashioned a doll, went back to his root. And what was his first stop? Good guess. Come in, come in. Oh, Rachel, hello, love. And what have we for breakfast today? Oh, strawberries and goat's cream and bacon smuggled from Canada and turkey eggs and maple syrup to sop and spoon. Oh, God, God. Well, this is hardly any breakfast at all to what your will have when we get married. I have a book with things written down in it to eat. Oh, gas and milk. A what? Milk. Truly, even. Like the truly one. We will be wed. I want to. Oh, the band quits the feast. Oh, God, God. Even. I have money and you'll never have to work anymore. You'll tell me stories and weave spells and I'll cook for you. Hardly will we need to step out of the door. Good, good. Even. Do you love me, even? With heart's desire. What of the gypsy girls? I like a lady with a blonde head of hair. One who cooks and... Someone threw a doll through the window, even. It's dressed like a gypsy and it looks like you. And its head is all twisted. Even. I know what this means, even. I know why you stand there with your head bowed down. For, look, another doll. Which was thrown through the same window when I stood here with the gypsy called Aaron. And later, oh, dread event, he was found with his neck twisted and dead. Like this doll. And see how this new doll resembled you, even. I'll never forget you gypsy lad. Never. Fare you well. Noah. Noah. We must talk, Noah. Come to me and we'll... Didn't you, Noah? Yes, I did. To look like me? Yes, I did. And you twisted its neck? Yes, I did. And you threw it through whether McGee's window? Yes, I did. And now? You must die. I don't want to. The oath we took? I don't want to die. The blood oath? No. I love the wood of McGee and she has money and I would give you much of it. Cousin. A gypsy named Eben Leathers was found in the woods a few days later. His head had been twisted with such violence that it had snapped his neck. It got so that the people around Rutland would greet each other with such remarks as dead as last Monday's gypsy and such remarks as now don't get any dead gypsies underfoot and such remarks as more inexplicative than anything else. Well, snap my neck. Which last may still be heard around the old pot-bellied stove down Vermont Way? Again, the police shook their heads and the coroner jotted it down as a result of an accident of undetermined origin. Now, since cousins Aaron and Eben were dead, Noah had the broom and basket root all to himself. He diligently went from door to door and when he came to Whittle McGee's house... Oh, good morning. Good morning, gypsy. Come in. I sell brooms and baskets. How live you are. How like a reed and a supple. The broom now. See how it's... Oh, I don't need any brooms. Put it down. Where? Oh, any place. How curly is your hair. Yes. Come on to the porch. How with grace. How you pranced and leaped. I am nimble. Would you like to see? I want to. I'll put my hands behind my back and... Watch out for the broom. Gypsy. Gypsy boy. Oh, my. Look how your neck is twisted. As if... almost as if... As if his neck had been snapped, in which it was, which killed him instantly. I would like to be able to tell you that Whittle McGee was finally married. But I cannot. Rather, she took to dancing much more frequently in her garden. A small Fandango she had learned from the boys. And, one dark night, she died. In just a moment, Thomas Highland will tell you about next week's crime classic. Whittle McGee, tonight's crime classic, was adapted from the original court reports and newspaper accounts by Morton Fein and David Friedkin. The music was composed and conducted by Bernard Herman. And the program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. Thomas Highland is portrayed on radio by Lou Merrill. In tonight's story, Sammy Hill was heard as Whittle McGee. William Conrad is even. High Aberbach is Noah. And Shepherd Menken is Aaron. Bob LeMond speaking. He was born in 1820. That was the year four people got all hacked up right during Bach beer season. You can imagine the stir it caused. Especially when they arrested Frau Baumler's hubby. It's listed in my files as Bunny Baumler. His close brush with fame. Thank you. Good night. Every weekday for a delightful 90-minute CBS radio resounds with the fun-making of Arthur Godfrey's time. People know and love as Mr. Unpredictable. And then every Friday night out of these 450 daytime minutes, CBS radio digests a fabulous hour of entertainment for nighttime audiences. Yes, Friday nights over most of these same stations, it's the Arthur Godfrey digest. A one-hour concentrate of Godfrey and his gang at their very best. You hear America's favorite shows on the CBS Radio Network.