Little Black Book

Some men have political sense, some haven't. Young F. Lynden Smith, Pontiac, Ill., lumberman, had it. He had it to such a powerful degree that he attracted the nose of Governor Henry Horner in 1936. The Governor was out for reelection, and the powerful Kelly-Nash machine was out to stop him. It was backslapping, 44-year-old Lyn Smith, a Kiwanian, Mason, Shriner. Elk, World War veteran, whom Henry Horner chose to manage his campaign downstate. Mr. Smith's reward for helping Horner win was the directorship of the State Department of Public Works.

He was admitted to the mysterious inner councils. He became head of the Iroquois League, a Democratic organization whose main function was collecting moneys from contractors doing business with the State and from State employes a 2% salary assessment. Last year the Iroquois League was dissolved, the Illinoisans, a similar organization, set up. Mr. Smith headed it.

Records of receipts, many another item were noted by Mr. Smith in a little black book. He became known, to the knowing, as "the man who knew 10,000 secrets." In Illinois, Lyn Smith became a name that meant something--something rather murky--in politics.

Few months ago, for some dark reason, the inner council door suddenly slammed shut in Lyn Smith's face. One rumor was that he had dared to tell Henry Horner, who had been ill for over a year, that he should not run again for Governor. Control of the "slush" fund was taken out of Smith's hands, given to State Finance Director Sam Nudelman. Lyn Smith became visibly nervous. He took to carrying a revolver, surrounded himself with guards of State police. He still had his little black book, and he was reported to have told a newspaper friend that it would never get away from him, because: "This is my life insurance. I'm clean all the way through this thing, and inside the covers of this book is the proof. As long as I keep it, they will never be able to frame me."

Last month he and his wife went to Florida. Scarcely had he left when the smoldering dissension in Illinois Democracy burst out into open dispute between Governor Horner and Lieut. Governor John Stelle, who announced his candidacy for the Governorship at the April 9 primaries, toyed with the idea of seizing immediate power on the ground that Governor Horner was too ill to act. Suit was brought against both the Iroquois League and the Illinoisans, for a fund accounting to members. Last week, when Lyn Smith got back from Florida, he was scheduled to make a deposition in that suit.

The night he returned to his Springfield, Ill., home, according to his chauffeur, he went down to the cellar and burned a briefcaseful of papers. Next day, his agitation so alarmed his wife that she sent for State Police Chief Walter Williams. Chief Williams found Mr. Smith pacing his living room, muttering nervously that someone was trying to get him. Abruptly he excused himself and went into the kitchen, yanked a long-bladed knife from a drawer and stabbed himself over the heart and in the neck. Williams rushed him to a doctor. The wounds were not serious. After they had been dressed and Mr. Smith had been bandaged up, Williams took him to St. John's Hospital.

There Lyn Smith was put under observation as a mental case. Two days later, on the morning he was scheduled to appear in court, he rose, told a nurse he was going into the bathroom to shave with his electric razor. Five minutes after he had closed the door, the watchful nurse called an orderly to force the locked door. Mr. Smith was still dressed in his pajamas, and he had half finished his shave. But he was lying in a tubful of water, dead.

Coroner W. L. Dragoo dispatched deputies to guard Mr. Smith's house, keep everyone out, including State police. After a formal investigation, Coroner Dragoo announced that Mr. Smith had performed the difficult feat of drowning himself in the bathtub. Attorneys curious about Democratic campaign funds immediately started proceedings to impound all records of the Illinoisans. The jitters spread fast through Illinois's Democratic machine. At week's end, still unlocated was the little black book.

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