The Good Citizen

Cornelius Pytsch could hardly be called a solid citizen. Orphaned at five, he learned to make his own living at an age when most kids are learning long division. In 1930, when he was 26, Pytsch and an accomplice held up a small Manhattan hotel, but were caught by the cops before they even had a chance to spend their $7 haul. After four years in Sing Sing, Pytsch was paroled, went to California to begin again. While he was working there as a coal miner, he seduced a 13-year-old girl. The girl told her father, and Pytsch was tried and found guilty of statutory rape. The judge gave him a two-to 100-year sentence, and the next day he escaped from jail.

Frank Raboski, on the other hand, was a solid citizen. As a diesel mechanic in Northlake, IIll., he made a good living. He was the first president of the Northlake Home Owners Association, a member of the sewers and water committee, and treasurer of the Northlake Crime Commission which he and other vigilant citizens founded to halt an invasion of Chicago hoodlums. Last month Raboski campaigned (unsuccessfully) for police magistrate. His home was one of the best kept in the neighborhood, and his lawn was the pride of Dewey Street.

Last week Northlake's police chief, Fred Heck, called on his friend Raboski, asked him to come down to the police station for an important conference. At the station, the policeman handed Raboski a pile of papers, including the photograph, fingerprints and police record of Cornelius Pytsch of California. After a few minutes, the police chief broke the uncomfortable silence. "Are you that man?" he asked.

"Yes." said Raboski. "We were hoping," said the policeman, "that we were wrong."

Before Raboski was taken off to Cook County jail, Chief Heck sent for Mrs. Raboski. "What's the matter?" she asked, when she arrived at the station. "The easiest way to tell you, I guess," said her husband, "is to read these to you." After he had owned up to Cornelius Pytsch's record. Virginia Raboski's first question was: "Am I married to you?" Her husband gently assured her that a person using an alias could marry as legally as anyone else.

At week's end, New York had waived extradition on a parole-jumping charge, but California was ready to demand the return of Pytsch-Raboski to serve out his sentence. Neighbors in Northlake, including Chief Heck, pledged their homes to raise Raboski's $15,000 bail, drafted a clemency appeal to California's Governor Earl Warren. "We plan to do everything we can to stand back of him," said the Rev. Milan Swasko, pastor of the local Lutheran church. "This community can't afford to lose him."

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