When I knew them, the youngest two, the ones that got killed-Nancy and the little boy what wore glasses-they were only babies, maybe-five or six years old. He paid good wages, and if you deserved it he was quick to give you a bonus.
He treated me fine, same as he treated everybody that worked for him like, if you was a little short before payday, he’d always hand you a ten or a five. I stayed there I guess a year-all that winter, anyway-and when I left, it was just ‘cause I was feeling kind of footy. I was hunting work, and, asking round, I heard maybe they could use a hand over to River Valley Farm-that’s how he called his place, Mr. “One way and another, I found myself out there in western Kansas. He was “sort of drifting around the country, taking jobs as they came,” as he recalled it. It had begun a long time ago-eleven years ago, in the autumn of 1948, when Wells was nineteen.
As he was eventually to describe his reaction, he “didn’t hardly believe it.” Yet he had good reason to, for not only had he known the murdered family, he knew very well who had murdered them. Clutter, a prominent wheatgrower and former Eisenhower appointee to the Federal Farm Credit Board . . .” Investigating officials admit they can discover no motive for the crime, termed by Logan Sanford, Director of the Kansas Bureau of Investigation, as the most vicious in the history of Kansas. Each had been bound, gagged, and shot through the head with a 12-gauge shotgun. Clutter, his wife, and their two teenage children were found murdered in their farm home near Garden City early last Sunday morning. Clutter family have appealed to the public for any information which might aid in solving this baffling crime. His drowsiness instantly vanished when he heard: “Officers investigating the tragic slaying of four members of the Herbert W.
Keith Glennan”) were luring him toward sleep. President Eisenhower put in seventy minutes going over space problems and the budget for space exploration with Dr. He was listening to a news broadcast, but the announcer’s voice and the drabness of the day’s events (“Chancellor Konrad Adenauer arrived in London today for talks with Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. . . . On the evening of Tuesday, November 17, 1959, he was lying in his cell with a pair of radio carphones clamped to his head. He had attempted several careers, as soldier, ranch hand, mechanic, thief, the last of which had earned him a sentence of three to five years in Kansas State Penitentiary, at Lansing, Kansas. The young man’s name was Floyd Wells, and he was short and nearly chinless. ( EDITOR’ S NOTE: ALL QUOTATIONS IN THIS ARTICLE ARE TAKEN EITHER FROM OFFICIAL RECORDS OR FROM CONVERSATIONS, TRANSCRIBED VERBATIM, BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND THE PRINCIPALS.)
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