Bryan Johnston - Deep in the Woods: The 1935 Kidnapping of Nine-Year-Old George Weyerhaeuser, Heir to Americas Mightiest Timber Dynasty

Advance Praise for
Deep in the Woods

Soon after the Lindbergh kidnapping, and long before Patty Hearst, there was George Weyerhaeuser. Bryan Johnstons meticulous research brings alive the historical figures behind the snatch of a poor, rich boy and those people affected by itincluding the victim! The Venn diagram for lovers of history, court dramas, and true crime investigations overlap at Deep in the Woods .

Kevin Flynn, author of Our Little Secret and co-host, Crime Writers On

Deep in the Woods delivers a spellbinding tale of an unspeakable crime, an intense investigation, and, in the end, incredible mercy. A must-read for true crime fans.

Anthony Amore, New York Times bestselling author of The Woman Who Stole Vermeer

Fascinating historical crime with characters so vivid and realistic they seem to have stepped out of a police crime log. Johnston has uncovered a real gem of a true story and tells it with skill.

Anthony Flacco , New York Times bestselling author, Impossible Odds

Bryan Johnstons newest book, Deep in the Woods , is a true crime story that reads likes fiction with its beautiful prose and engaging storytelling full of historical details that draw you into the narrative. Even if you know nothing about the kidnapping of nine-year-old George Weyerhaeuser in 1935, due to Johnstons impeccable research, you will come away with a full understanding of how this compelling story unfolded step by step. Johnston takes you on an exquisite journey back in time to tell this fascinating story. Its a journey you dont want to miss.

Amanda Lamb, News Reporter, WRAL-TV

A POST HILL PRESS BOOK

Deep in the Woods:

The 1935 Kidnapping of Nine-Year-Old George Weyerhaeuser, Heir to Americas Mightiest Timber Dynasty

2021 by Bryan Johnston

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-64293-903-3

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-64293-904-0

Interior design and composition by Greg Johnson, Textbook Perfect

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Post Hill Press

New York Nashville

posthillpress.com

Published in the United States of America

To Mom, Dad, Scott, Erik, April, Soren, and Tova.

Authors Note

The following is a true story. Although, based on some of the actions, behavior, and decisions of several of the participants, it would be completely reasonable to think otherwise. The 1930s was a vastly different era, and contemporary sensibilities will not always jibe with what was considered acceptable in that time.

You will run across some instances that will look like typos. For example, the word kidnapper may appear as kidnaper, depending on when its being used. Kidnaper is simply how the word was spelled, oddly enough, back in 1935. And when text from notes or letters was transcribed, I chose to show the spelling, grammar, and punctuation exactly as it was.

Many of the conversations between the players are extrapolations based on my researchrepresentative dialogue. However, the courtroom dialogue was taken word-for-word from the court transcripts. No liberties were taken. Information for this book was culled from over 2,500 pages of FBI documents, 200-plus newspaper articles, court transcripts, and the ultimate coup, an interview with former kidnapping victim George Weyerhaeuser (pronounced Ware-houser) at his home in 2019.

If you see something italicized, it either indicates a characters thought process or shows material taken verbatim from a newspaper article or letter.

Bryan Johnston, 2020

Contents

Friday Afternoon, May 24, 1935

It was hardly a novelty for nine-year-old George Weyerhaeuser to walk home from school without adult supervision. The idea wouldnt have raised eyebrows or caused whispers of questionable parenting, especially in that neighborhood, only a five-minute drive from arguably one of the toniest stretches of Tacoma, Washington. The students who lived nearby liked to go home for lunch. Technically the boy wasnt alone anyway, at least for part of his walk. There was a trio who left Lowell Grammar School together. George was accompanied by his two friends, Bruce Bowman and Joseph Whealdon.

The boys were in high spirits, and why not? It was a fine spring day, mostly clear and just a few ticks under seventy degrees, only slightly out of character for this time of year in the notoriously gray Pacific Northwest. George most likely didnt need the sweater he was wearing, but his grandmother had insisted. Youll catch your death! she had tut-tutted him just that morning. Only Grammy would think you could catch a cold on a day like today, George had thought. She doted on him insistently; he sometimes protested, but secretly he was glad for it.

They were a gangly crew, the boys, thin and bright-eyed. George stood out if for no other reason than his shock of dark brown curly hair. From a block away that hair was a dead giveaway.

He shuffled along, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his brown knickers. The three friends chatted, talking about the fine and manly art of jumpingwhich of them could jump the highest, the farthest. They compared their skills and argued the results before their attention spans waned and they shifted the topic of conversation to a clearly more urgent matter: baseball. They played on the same team. Bruce was the team captain, but George could play a mean first base. However, their talk was of a higher caliber brand of ball.

Arky got two more hits yesterday, said George. Arky was Arky Vaughan, the Pittsburgh Pirates shortstop, who was tearing it up a month in on his way to winning the batting title.

Against who? asked Joe, taking a swipe with his sneakered foot, kicking a small rock down the street.

The Braves, George replied, launching a similar stone and proudly noting it skipping past Joes.

Did the Babe do anything? asked Joe, his eyes down, scanning for another rock. Forty-year-old Babe Ruth was winding down his storied career on the lowly Boston Braves. The aging Bambino was hitting a paltry buck forty.

Naw, said George. You think hes through?

No way, said Joe confidently. Its the Babe! The boys hadnt seen Ruth in his prime, but Babe Ruth was still Babe Ruth. Even at the end of his career, he was a larger-than-life character and still one of the most famous people on the planet.

Did ya hear, theyre playing a night game tonight? said Bruce. The Phillies and the Reds. First one ever.

George and Joe simply nodded to this, the full force of their attention now on searching for the ideal kicking rock. The ballgame under the lights was just another of many firsts in their young lives. At nine years old they were still young enough to take them for granted.

George liked baseball just fine, and he had the same first name as the Babe (George Herman Ruth)what kid wouldnt be proud of that? But soccer was his favorite sport. The local field was more dirt and gravel than grass, which made it more conducive to running and kicking. With baseball, fielding grounders out there left you with a fifty-fifty shot the ball would ricochet off a rock and leave you to take one in the kisser.