The stupid unromance of banditry never loomed more starkly than when six greasy Mexicans kidnaped during the week a retired Long Island butcher, Jacob Rosenthal, 62.
Convivial weekend. Mr. Rosen-thai was in Mexico City on a business trip with his son-in-law, Joseph Ruff, Manhattan exporter. One Jack J. Zahler, rich candy manufacturer, vice president x)f the American Chamber of Commerce in Mexico City, invited them to accompany him to the convivial week-end resort of Cuernavaca, a three-hour motor ride from Mexico City. With them, in Mr. Zahler's motor, rode Mrs. Zahler, young, petite, personable, wearing what she afterwards declared to be $8,000 worth of jewels.
The week-end passed swiftly amid those diversions which have made Cuernavaca attractive to many Americans—among them U. S. Ambassador Sheffield. As their car left on the return journey to Mexico City, the Zahlers, Mr. Ruff and Mr. Rosenthal were described as "laughing and chatting loudly."
Bandits. Just outside Cuernavaca the bandits waited. Wide belts, slovenly, half full of cartridges, maintained contact between their sleazy trousers and torn cotton shirts. Rain began to fall, soddened their straw sombreros, shortened their tempers. Crouching behind dripping bushes, they waited on either side of the Cuernavaca-Mexico City road at a place where the grade is so steep as to make crawling upward in low gear the only possibility.
The Zahler car approached, its gears whining softly, rain coursing down the windshield. At the bandit cry of "Halt!" Mrs. Zahler, nimble-fingered, tore off her jewels and slipped them under the seat.
The bandit leader, a slim dark-skinned Mexican Indian, approached with drawn revolver, shrilled: "Climb down! Get out into the road!" Soon deft bandit fingers caressed the fat wallets of Mr. Ruff and Mr. Zahler, found a check book and some small change on Mr. Rosenthal. Louts, the bandits searched intensively without finding Mrs. Zahler's jewels. . . .
Quick. Suddenly the screech of brakes was heard far up the hill. One Hedley V. Quick, an employe of the Anglo-American Bank of Mexico City, was slithering down the grade, en route to Cuernavaca. So steep is the hill that Mr. Quick could not stop when commanded to halt by the bandits. Two shots ripped through his side curtains. Then, resourceful, Mr. Quick took his foot from the brake, plunged it down upon the gas. His car, bounding, lurching, sped down the hill. Half a mile farther on he met First-Secretary Arthur Bliss Lane of the U. S. Embassy, motoring toward Mexico City with his wife and daughter. Warned by Mr. Quick the Lanes turned round, sped back to Cuernavaca.
Kidnaping. Meanwhile the bandit leader had ordered Joseph Ruff and the Zahlers back into their car. "This is the man we want!" he said pointing to Mr. Rosenthal, who stood shivering in the rain, clad only in a thin summer suit.
"You've got our valuables, what more do you want!" cried Mr. Zahler, "At least let me give Mr. Rosenthal his overcoat. He is an old man."
"Shut up and get out of here quick!" shrilled the bandit leader.
"Please!" cried Mr. Ruff, "Mr. Rosenthal is my father-in-law. Please let him go and let me take his place!"