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1911 Baby Machine Gun and the Baby Faced Monster: Lester Gillis by WILL DABBS

Lester Gillis, shown here alongside his mom, was a natural-born criminal.

Lester Gillis was born in December of 1908 in Chicago, Illinois. His first arrest came on Independence Day at age 12. Young Lester discovered a handgun and inadvertently shot a pal in the jaw. He served a year in reform school before being released to steal his first car at age 13. This bought the lad another 18 months in the boys’ penal facility.

Gillis married his soulmate, Helen, after meeting her in a store.

Gillis was a great many dichotomous things. He was a natural leader, a committed husband, and a doting father. He married Helen Wawrzyniak at age 20 and sired two kids he adored. By 1930, however, Gillis was making serious bank in the burgeoning field of armed robbery.

Les Gillis got started young. By his early twenties, he had stolen enough to become a wealthy man.

The press referred to his gang as the “Tape Bandits” after their propensity to truss up robbery victims with tape. On one of his first major scores, Gillis and his troops made off with $205,000 in jewelry from magazine-executive, Charles Richter. That would be more than $3 million today. After several more lucrative home invasions, Gillis robbed his first financial institution. While the $4,000 he stole was dwarfed by his previous jewel heists, Gillis found in bank robbery his true calling.

Gillis’ boyish looks earned him the moniker Baby Face Nelson.

In October of 1930, the brazen Lester Gillis robbed the wife of sitting Chicago mayor Big Bill Thompson, making off with $18,000 in jewelry. Mrs. Thompson got a good look at Gillis during the robbery and described him thusly, “He had a babyface. He was good looking, hardly more than a boy, had dark hair and was wearing a grey topcoat and a brown felt hat, turned down brim.” Though no one close to him dared use the moniker, the press and subsequently the rest of the planet came to refer to Lester Gillis by his nom de guerre–Baby Face Nelson.

Gillis was a psychopath’s psychopath who showed no hesitation to kill when the perceived need arose.

Despite his obviously sincere affection for his wife and kids, Les was an inveterate killer. During a 1933 robbery of the First National Bank of Brainerd, Minnesota, he covered the gang’s getaway by emptying his Thompson submachinegun at gawking bystanders. A year later a paint salesman named Theodore Kidder cut off Lester’s car in Chicago traffic. Gillis let his fulminant temper get the better of him and chased the terrified Kidder until he pinned his car against a curb. When the hapless salesman exited the car to de-escalate the conflict, Baby Face Nelson blew him away.

John Dillinger was the apex predator among depression-era outlaws. He and Gillis made a great team.

The specific composition of these criminal gangs ebbed and flowed based upon the vagaries of prison, territory, friendships, and untimely deaths. Soon Les found John Dillinger, and the two became tight as, well, thieves. Cross-country crime sprees can be taxing, so by April of 1934 Nelson and Dillinger were in serious need of some downtime. The two retreated to the Little Bohemia Lodge in Manitowish Waters, Wisconsin, for a little well deserved R and R. Accompanying them were Homer Van Meter, John “Red” Hamilton, Tommy Carroll, a young apprentice thug named Pat Reilly, Les’ bride Helen, and three girlfriends.

This is a photograph of the 1935 graduating class of National Police Executives, the forerunner of the FBI academy. The learning curve was steep and bloody for those early Law Enforcement pioneers.

Sadly there is only one way to gain experience, and that is frequently just not terribly graceful. While the FBI is typically a well-oiled machine these days, back in the 1930’s tactical Law Enforcement procedures were in their infancy. The result was an almost darkly comedic little slaughter.

The Little Bohemia Lodge was the site of a bloody violent exchange between G-Men and the Dillinger gang.

Emil Wanatka, the owner of the lodge, was playing cards with Dillinger and noticed his holstered sidearm as Public Enemy Number One raked in his earnings. Wanatka told his wife who told a friend who called the feds. The famed G-Man Melvin Purvis hustled over with a few FBI shooters, and they assaulted the lodge straightaway.

Eugene Boisneau was mistaken for a criminal and gunned down by Melvin Purvis’ G-men.

The Feds attacked en masse from the front just as the unsuspecting evening dinner crowd was departing following the famed Little Bohemia $1 Sunday night special. Three innocent diners, Eugene Boisneau, John Hoffman, and John Morris, were firing up their 1933 Chevrolet Coupe just as the FBI agents approached. Somebody misunderstood somebody, and the feds opened fire. Boisneau died on the spot, and his two buddies were badly wounded. Catastrophically, the gunfire also alerted the professional killers inside the lodge.

Gillis first tried to shoot his way out of the FBI ambush.

The Little Bohemia fight has been exhaustively dissected elsewhere. Suffice it to say, Hamilton, Carroll, Van Meter, and Dillinger took to the woods and escaped. True to his idiom, Lester Gillis aka Baby Face Nelson snatched up his Thompson and fearlessly charged at the G-men, exchanging fire with Purvis himself. After this initial skirmish, Gillis fled alone in the opposite direction.

Carter Baum was one of three lawmen who made the mistake of wandering into Lester Gillis while he was particularly desperate.

Several cars later Les found himself at the home of a local named Alvin Koerner along with a total of seven hostages. He quickly thinned the herd to three and was climbing into yet another vehicle when a government car carrying FBI agents Jay Newman and W. Carter Baum as well as a local constable named Carl Christensen drove up. Nelson approached the vehicle and disarmingly asked the newcomer’s identities. The G-man identified themselves, and Lester Gillis pulled a most remarkable customized weapon out from underneath his coat.

The Gun

Hyman Lebman was a San Antonio gunsmith with an eclectic clientele.

Hyman Lebman was a Texas gunsmith whose shop specialized in hard-to-find ordnance. His San Antonio establishment featured hunting guns, boots, and saddles upstairs, but he kept the truly good stuff in the basement. In the heady days before the 1934 National Firearms Act, machineguns were cash and carry. Lebman’s mechanical gifts and the creations he spawned ultimately prompted many a Chicago gangster to undertake a Texas road trip.

Lebman’s customized M1907 Winchesters were sought-after gangster tools. Homer Van Meter used one to kill patrolman Howard Wagner during a particularly violent bank robbery in South Bend, Indiana.

Lebman built customized full auto Winchester M1907 rifles. A Lebman 1907 captured from the Dillinger gang is on display at the FBI building in Washington, DC. His specialty, however, was what he called his Baby Machinegun. These full auto 1911 pistols represented the most concealable firepower mankind might conjure.

Lebman offered his converted 1911 pistols in both .45ACP and .38 Super. The end result was a serious fistful of firepower.

When Lebman was testing one of his early examples in his basement firing range the thing got away from him and stitched a row of holes through the floor above, nearly killing his young son Marvin. The final versions could be had in either .45ACP or .38 Super and included a modified Cutts compensator as well as the foregrip from a Thompson submachine gun. Extended magazines carried either eighteen or twenty-two rounds depending upon the caliber, and the little monsters cycled in excess of 1,000 rpm.

Lebman never made more than a handful of his iconic full auto 1911 pistols, but they left an indelible mark.

In 1933 Lester Gillis walked into Lebman’s shop along with his pretty wife Helen and young son Ronald using the alias Jimmy Williams. A skulking fellow gangster named Charles Fisher kept him company. An odd friendship ensued, and the mobster’s family later took dinner with that of Lebman in the gunsmith’s home. When Gillis departed San Antonio, he left with five full auto Babies in .38 Super, four unmodified 1911 pistols in .45ACP, and a brace of Thompsons. Gillis paid Lebman $300 apiece for the Tommy guns.

The Killing

Gillis’ execution killing of Carter Baum with a Lebman 1911 Baby Machinegun was the optimal application for this sinister little machine pistol.

Gillis stood in the dim light outside the agents’ government vehicle and drew one of Lebman’s .38 Super full auto 1911’s from his coat. Before the G-Men could react, he hosed down the car at more than 1,000 rounds per minute. Constable Christensen and Agent Newman were badly wounded. At a range of less than ten feet, Agent W. Carter Baum caught three of the zippy little .38-caliber rounds in the neck. The hapless government agent bled out and died in short order.

Lester Gillis hosed down the G-Men’s car so quickly they were unable to return fire.

Gillis later remarked that he had been surprised that the feds had not fired first, feeling that they had the tactical advantage. However, when Baum’s weapon was recovered it was found that he had not had time to disengage the safety on his 1911. Gillis took the FBI car and eventually successfully made his escape.

The Rest of the Story

Helen Gillis was herself considered Public Enemy Number 1 for a time and was rumored to have had a shoot to kill order issued in her name. She remained loyal to Les to the bitter end.

Helen Gillis was captured in the lodge by the FBI along with Homer Van Meter’s girlfriend Marie Comforti and Tommy Carroll’s squeeze Jean Crompton. These three women were interrogated aggressively and eventually convicted of the crime of harboring fugitives. They were paroled soon thereafter.

Gillis and his perennial associate John Paul Chase went out in a hail of bullets.

Lester Gillis inherited the title of Public Enemy Number 1 after the violent deaths of John Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd. On November 27, 1934, Gillis and an associate named John Paul Chase were cornered by federal agents Samuel Crowley and Herman Hollis at a turnout in Barrington, Illinois.

Lester Gillis murdered three FBI agents himself, more than any other single criminal.

Armed with what was likely a Colt Monitor BAR, Gillis killed the two G-Men. However, he caught eight buckshot in his legs and a single .45ACP bullet from a G-Man Thompson to the belly in the process.

Gillis bled out later that evening as a result of the belly wound he received from a G-Man Tommy Gun.

This heavy .45ACP round perforated his liver and pancreas before exiting out his back. Gillis died later that evening in his wife Helen’s arms. He was 25 years old.

Hyman Lebman was prosecuted by the government for providing weapons to gangsters but never served time. He operated his gunsmithing business until well into the 1970s.

Hyman Lebman had to stop his machinegun business after the passage of the 1934 NFA, but he continued working as a gunsmith in San Antonio into the 1970s. He finally closed his business after relentless pressure from the feds. His son Marvin described the gangsters to whom his dad sold his guns as “men in nice suits and hats.” Hyman Lebman died of Alzheimer’s Disease in 1990.

Lester Gillis was an archetype, a hardscrabble young criminal who gained fame and notoriety before dying young and hard.
The Lebman 1911 Baby Machinegun Gillis wielded against the three lawmen near the Little Bohemia Lodge was an optimized gangster tool.

 

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LEARNING THE BASICS OF GUN SAFETY FROM STICKS AND STONES WRITTEN BY JEFF “TANK” HOOVER

Tank learned the basics of gun safety from these study aids.

 

Prior to entering the Police Academy 36 years ago this month, I’d never shot a handgun. As a kid, I’d use crooked sticks shaped like handguns. Even these crude dummy guns taught me something. Namely, to always keep my finger off the trigger, which was natural. None of my sticks had one.

I also learned concealed sticks were best for getting the drop on my open stick carry buddies. They never saw my stick coming during our mock wars and cops ’n robbers play.

Next came rocks, my first projectile. Early on, I learned a bigger rock caused more damage than a smaller one. I remember being in 1st grade and it was recess. Before my very eyes was a large, white igneous rock. Picking it up, I threw it as far as I could, without really looking. I just wanted to see how far I could throw it.

It struck a girl in my class in the mouth, on its first bounce. I was lucky it didn’t hurt her worse than it did, but I violated rule #4, not being aware of my background.

From sticks, I graduated to cap pistols and dart guns. I can’t really remember which was first, but I do remember almost shooting my eye out with a dart gun. Don’t worry, it wasn’t loaded. Really!

Wanting to know how dart guns worked, I’d cocked the gun with a stick. A dart would have locked itself in place. With gun cocked, I did a foolish thing and looked down the barrel, violating rule #1 and #2. Towards the back was the cocked and locked spring, held back by a plastic hook. The hook was connected to a transfer bar, which was attached to the trigger. Tickling the trigger, violating rule #3, while looking down the barrel (#2) wasn’t my brightest idea, but heck, I was only five.

I guess I tickled the trigger (#3) too much, for before I knew it, the compressed spring released its fury, striking my eyeball. I was the victim of stupidity and barrel run out. The spring ran out and tagged my eye. I saw orange stars. Luckily, the spring only scratched my eye, but I still got to wear a cool eye patch for a week.

Oh, yeah, I also learned about always pointing your gun in a safe direction and keeping your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. An’ how!

The first “real” gun I got to shoot was my older brother’s Daisy 1894 lever action BB gun. By now I was six, had both eyes (barely) and all my fingers and toes (again, barely). Being no Daisy, I figured I was experienced, ready for the Daisy BB gun. I learned sight alignment, trigger control, and to a lesser extent, trajectory with this gun.

I could see the BB travel through midair. I shot that gun silly, as my brother became more interested in sports, freeing up the gun for more trigger time. I became a pretty darn good shot with that gun, evidenced by the neighborhood cats who fattened up from my deadeye aim on sparrows.

Eight Is Great

 

My eighth birthday was a grand day. I received a Harrington & Richardson .22 for my present. Now I had a genuine rifle and was proud as punch my parents trusted me enough to give it to me. This gun taught me responsibility, as I didn’t want to ruin the trust my parents instilled in me by giving me such a grown-up present.

That rifle accounted for more groundhogs, sparrows and rats than I could care to count. It reinforced sight alignment basics and trigger control. When coordinating the two, hits were more likely.

By age 12 I received my first deer rifle, a Remington 700 chambered in .30-06. This gun taught me about recoil, and how the ensuing flinch caused poor accuracy. I learned to concentrate, ignoring the recoil, to make accurate shots. I also learned in the field, while shooting at deer, you never felt the recoil.

“Just Shoot It”

This brings us back around to handguns. On September 23rd, 1985, I entered the Montgomery County Police Academy. I remember well the first time shooting my issued Ruger Service Six, chambered in .38 Special. The Range staff put a blank sheet of paper on the cardboard backer and sent it to the 15-yard line. They had us load the guns and shoot, having us try to shoot the tightest group possible.

Already feeling well-versed in sight-alignment and trigger control, I aimed and fired my six rounds, double-action, as instructed. That’s the only way we were allowed to shoot. They told us shooting double action was combat shooting and we better learn it! From my previous shooting experience, my group was decent. “Hoover, you ever shoot a handgun before?” I was asked. “No, sir, just rifles,” I replied. “Good, we won’t have to break you of any bad habits.”

The next 20 weeks were a blur, but I remember the sound advice given pertaining to firearms. Such things as, “Don’t mess with your main spring,” and “Don’t clip any coils off it!” My gun shot 2″ right at 25 yards. When I mentioned this, one of the instructors grabbed it, sent a target to the 15-yard line and fired. He returned my gun, simply stating, “Aim left 2″ and just shoot it! You’ll get used to it!”

And that’s been my philosophy on guns for the most part. Just shoot it, you’ll get used to it. As you can see, any gun can teach us something. You just need to think about it.

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