THE STRANGER ON THE PLANE, PART 1

A small group of people waited at the airport of Thief River Falls, a town of some 8,000 in the north west corner of Minnesota. With only a few days to go until the start of the Christmas holiday, there was a festive feeling in the air, and those waiting for the Northwest airlines flight from Minneapolis undoubtedly expected loved ones. The plane landed at 3 p.m.., taxi to a ramp, and four men got off.

The waiting people split into three groups, each running to greet an arrival. There were kisses and hugs and excited voices and laughter, and then the three men and their friends left in automobiles.


The fourth man had stood alone through out the greetings scene, and he stood alone now. He turned his head, examining the field, administration building and road, the chilly northern air fluttering his brown, well tailored topcoat. Then he tugged his Homburg hat down tightly and went into the administration building.


He extracted a cigarette from an expensive case. As he lit it, light danced on his polished fingernails. He then walked to the building and into the taxicab outside, and asked to be taken to the Pennington Hotel.


It was Saturday afternoon, November 12, 1955. The cab driver made several attempts at conversation -- on how quiet it was in a small town on Saturday afternoon compared to a big city like Minneapolis, on the approaching holidays, on the weather. The passenger ignored him, looking out at the streets as they rode.


He carried his own luggage -- a small black bag -- as he walked into the hotel. He was of medium height, slender, and when he set down his bag and took off his hat he revealed dark, wavy hair. His eyes were dark and intense looking; his mouth full; his jaw was hard, pointed, the trait often called determined.



He told the desk clerk he was Herbert Johnson, and that Mr. Kenneth was to have made a reservation for him.
A clerk, Mrs. Harry Winter, looked through some cards, and found the one she wanted, and nodded.
“Mr. called this in this morning.” she said. ” We have a room for you, and for your secretary, Mrs. Hadley.”
The man thanked her, and said he would be back later in the day to check into the room.


“My secretary will arrive either tomorrow or Monday,” he said”. “Can you hold the room for her?”

Mrs. Winters said that could be arranged.

The man asked how to get to the Northern State Bank, and then walked out.


At 4:30 PM when he reached the bank.


In a moment the door was opened by a smiling, round faced man who shook his hand and said, ”Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson. I am Ken .”


The pair went into the bank it into an interview booth.


The pair talked and laughed and were still involved in their discussion until 9 p.m. when the two men were seen leaving the back door of the building housing the bank, one carrying a satchel.


At 11:20 p.m., Lindbergh’s wife, Violet, received a long distance call from Detroit Lakes, a town of 6,200, 90 miles south of Thief River Falls. It was her husband. He said he was calling from the Greystone Hotel and was still tied up in a business deal and not to wait up.


When she awoke Sunday morning, she was startled to find that her husband had not slept in his bed. She went out to the garage. The family car, a 1951 Buick, was not there.


She phoned officials of the bank, and none of them had any idea where her husband may have gone.


As the day wore on she received no word from her husband, Mrs. Lindbergh’s alarm increased. She notified Thief River Falls Police Chief Elton Cummings and Pennington County Sheriff Arthur Rambeck.
All she could tell him was that on Saturday morning her husband had received a long-distance phone call from Minneapolis from a man who identified himself as Herbert Johnson. Johnson said he wanted to deposit $25,000 in the bank that afternoon for safekeeping until Monday, when he was to close of business deal.
Lindbergh had told him he would be glad to assist, and made arrangements to meet the man at the bank that afternoon.


The authorities contacted other members of the bank. No one there could supply information on the nature of the business dealing involving Mr. Johnson; it was a transaction that Lindbergh had been contacted about and it was handling alone.


The hotel was checked. The reservations had been made, and Mr. Johnson had appeared at 3:30 p.m. to confirm his reservation and to request that the one for his secretary he held up a day or two. But he had left about 4 p.m. and never returned to register.


The cab driver who had brought Mr. Johnson from the airport to the hotel was located.


At the airport, officers received news that had a foreboding sound. Only four men had gotten off the Saturday afternoon plane from Minneapolis, and none of them was a Mr. Johnson.