In the early 1900’s, Saint Paul Police Chief John O’Connor ruled the city with an iron-first. He maintained control over a bustling, growing Saint Paul filled with commerce and a constant influx of immigrants in part because he had a group of police officers and detectives known to be some of the nation’s best. None finer was super-Detective Frank Fraser, considered by many to be his top dog and right hand man. When President Taft came to Minnesota in 1910, it was Frank Fraser who served as his personal bodyguard. The same went for Colonel Teddy Roosevelt when he visited the Twin Cities – it was Fraser who was assigned to protect him.
Fraser first joined the department in1891 as a driver in the Central Station police force, however his driving was so fast and daring that other officers refused to ride with him. He was promoted to detective in 1898, and by the year 1911, the 49-year-old Fraser was the main guy O’Connor called upon when a crook needed to be apprehended and arrested. Fraser had an incredibly cool and collected demeanor; other officers respected him for the ease in which he caught the bad guy. This is how he would operate: after shadowing his prey a distance, Fraser would calmly walk up to him, take him by surprise by a tap on the shoulder, and usually arrest him with out a fight. Legend had it he could apprehend a whole gang of criminals with nothing but a firm word and a steady stare, his charisma was unequaled.
In March of 1911, two small-time crooks, Peter Juhl and Jerry McCarthy, had escaped from Stillwater prison, and had been loose for months. In August the St. Paul police department took notice when they received tips they were hiding out nearby, and Fraser was assigned to find and apprehend him. Fraser was a top notch sleuth and quickly tracked him down, but a chance encounter between McCarthy and a Minneapolis patrolman named Ollinger led to a gunfight and the deaths of both. Juhl was still wanted, but Fraser’s attention was turned, with lots of criminal activity in St. Paul to keep him busy.
On August 12th of 1911 the police received a tip that a known criminal was loitering around a Saint Paul warehouse (in what is now St. Paul’s warehouse district, by the farmer’s market). The tipster thought it might be a thief named John Lewis; wanted in Indianapolis for stealing a $1000 worth of ostrich plumes used in ladies hats. A group of milliners had put out a reward for his capture, and a now a man matching his description had been spotted downtown. It was Fraser, of course, who was dispatched to bring him in. Frank Fraser had been busy in the last few weeks tracking down hoodlums a lot more hardened than this fellow was supposed to be. Fraser knew that the John Lewis he was after was nothing but a common thief without a violent past, and his seasoned experience told him there because of these facts there wouldn’t be any serious danger in arresting him in a public, populated area. A weapon wouldn’t even need to be drawn, although of course he kept one firm in his pocket just in case. Fraser spotted Lewis as he boarded the rear entrance of streetcar near Wacouta and Fourth (close to Rice Park). Lewis found a spot to sit near the middle of the car, and Fraser followed him through the aisles, crowded with passengers. Fraser put his hand on the suspect’s shoulder, and the man whipped around, stood up, pulled a revolver out of his pocket, and fired point blank at Fraser. The bullet pierced his intestines and bladder, but Fraser continued to valiantly tussle with the suspect, and tried to pry the weapon away. Fraser called for help as the streetcar ground to a stop as panic ripped through the group of crowded passengers. People pushed for the exits, even crawling through open windows, and clearing a path for Fraser and Lewis. The suspect managed to get another shot off, this time hitting Fraser in the hand, and as they struggled, a patrolman named Michael Fallon, who had been walking a beat nearby entered the car from the front, and came up behind the suspect. Fraser yelled at Fallon: “Hit him, hit him, hit him hard! Don’t let him get away. He’s killed me, but get him.” Fallon complied, and struck the suspect a half dozen times over the head with his club, until he fell to the ground.
“I am shot” cried Detective Fraser. Fraser was helped to the curb, where he sat down until an ambulance could arrive. He died while in the hospital the next day. John Lewis turned out to be fugitive Peter Juhl, and was quickly apprehended and jailed. On October 21st of that year, Juhl entered a plea of guilty; 2nd degree murder, avoiding a trial, and was sentenced to a life of hard labor in Stillwater. He died in prison of tuberculosis twenty years later in 1930. At Fraser’s funeral, 6000 people showed to pay their respects, including 150 policeman from across the state. He was buried at Calvary Cemetery, and Police Chief O’Connor, typically one not to show his emotions, was seen to openly weep. When asked to comment on his feelings towards Frank Fraser, O’Connor replied “He was one of the best police officers in the country. There was nobody in the country could beat him when it came to catching a criminal”.
Nice tight little story; thanks for the read.
Awesome, glad you liked it!