Stumblers

One day in the spring of 1936 the Travelers' Insurance Co. in St. Louis, Mo. received an agitated telephone call from one John Womack. His voice trembling, Mr. Womack related that his wife, Bertha Mae, had been sideswiped by a dairy truck in East St. Louis, knocked to the pavement where she gave premature birth to a dead child. Mr. Womack added that he would settle his claim immediately for $2,000. Preferring to investigate, a company representative found plump Bertha Mae bedded in a local hospital. Physicians decided she had given birth to a child but could discover no evidence of external injury. Carrying his inquiries further among insurance adjusters, the investigator learned so much about Mr. Womack, a onetime insurance agent, that last week he and an impressive array of his relatives stood trial on an impressive array of counts in the East St. Louis District Court of Federal Judge Fred L. Wham.

Mr. Womack, deaf and 60, sat aloof, his hand cupped to his ear, as indignant insurance adjusters and store managers recognized not only Bertha Mae but his three daughters. Mrs. Mildred Felis, Mrs. Anna Ehrman, Mrs. Blanche Miller, their three husbands, and a family friend named Miss Margaret Robertson. Apparently sturdy, the Womacks had for several years proved more susceptible to injury than any family in the U. S. The slightest jolt of a bus or taxicab was enough to send a Womack sprawling. In elevators and department stores in Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan and Tennessee, the Womacks repeatedly stumbled over the smallest objects--light cords, tools, lipsticks, cigaret lighters, mousetraps, nails, pencils, or briar pipes--many of which had not been in evidence before they arrived. One Womack tripped on a bead. For the most part the Womack women did the falling, the Womack men acting as witnesses. Using such names as Opal Irkman or Bertha Curd, the Womacks had figured in at least 65 accidents which brought them $2,085. Most Womack claims were settled on the spot. Several netted nothing when adjusters remembered previous encounters. One who called on Mrs. Womack grew suspicious when she began to describe the wrong accident.

The lively Womacks thoroughly enjoyed themselves in court. During recesses the women changed coats and hats in the rest-room and then changed husbands to confuse witnesses. Barrel-chested Son-in-Law Miller and youthful Son-in-Law Felis, both professional wrestlers, took a night off during the trial to wrestle in nearby Hannibal, Mo. where Miller earned $20. But when the troupe realized that the 13 counts on which each was held, carried aggregate maximum jail sentences of 65 years and $75,000 in fines, they giggled less. Son-in-Law Miller offered to wrestle Assistant U. S. District Attorney Roy Foreman two falls out of three for a not guilty verdict. Snapped Prosecutor Foreman: "I hope to throw all of you--into jail."

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