It was 11:45 on a hot, cloudy morning.
Manhattanites were walking more slowly than usual along Fifth Avenue. A man stopped short, peered upward at the elaborate limestone facade of the Gotham Hotel. At once a crowd closed in behind him, followed his horrified gaze. On a narrow window ledge, 17 floors above the street, stood a young man, precariously teetering. He was 26-year-old John William Warde of Southampton, L. I., who had recently been discharged from an insane asylum and with his sister was visiting friends in Manhattan. At a slight reproof from his sister, Warde had rushed to the...
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