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Sylvester didn’t think there was anything shrewd about the way he concealed shortages. In fact he says, he was surprised they weren’t discovered. On the Hoffstetter farm Sylvester says he worked like a slave. He got up at 4 AM, milked cows and gathered up manure and fertilizer, then had breakfast and drove to town in a Ford truck with milk, butter and eggs. Hoffstatter treated him well, he said, until Mr. Hoffstatter gave him away. "That Judas," Sylvester muttered, "Worth sixty or seventy thousand dollars and then sold me out for a thousand. I surely never suspected anything like that. I was working in the hotel and Hoffsteter and his son-in-law came up and talked to me and I showed them the boiler room. We laughed and chatted and all the time they were looking at me and comparing me with one of those circulars they had in their pocket and I didn’t know it." Sylvester’s plan, he said, had been to hide around in the south "until things sort of blew over" and then have his family come down to him, settle down on a small truck farm and stay there. He never thought of leaving the country, he said, because his wife didn’t want him to. Sylvester’s meal in jail last night consisted of a hunk of bread, wieners, sauerkraut and coffee eaten off a tin plate with a big spoon. No knives or forks allowed. He was locked in the receiving room of Cook county jail with a score of other prisoners including several murderers. In this harsh company he looked pitifully small and harmless as he paced up and down. He was wearing the same suit he wore when he left Plainview and it was almost in rags. His baggage was a big brown bundle containing his clothes… well as he related in detail the whole story of his adventure… Every item including meals was kept in a diary. On March 24 he wrote another letter "to W. Bear." This is taken as an indication that he addressed mail to White Bear, Minnesota. Sylvester appeared bewildered by the crowds and photographers. He jumped when a photographer snapped his picture as he stepped off the train. After that he posed and a large crowd gathered around in the Chicago railway station. People queried "Who is he?" At the police station he posed willingly enough for photographers from Chicago newspapers. Three of them trained their cameras on him. One asked him several times to smile into the lens. "Well," he said testily, "I can smile but I can’t keep it up very long." Sylvester said he hadn’t decided what plea he would make. "I want to wait until I see my family," he said, "and sort of find out what the sentiment is." Three or four times during his long interview with me, Sylvester showed signs of breaking down, but he maintained his composure remarkably well as he related in detail the whole story of his adventure. Enroute to Chicago yesterday Sylvester and County Attorney John R. Foley talked for hours. "I didn’t do it for myself," Sylvester would repeat over and over again when Foley’s leading question got too strong for the old man. "I did it to save the bank," Sylvester would say. "I failed. Bad loans had ruined the bank. I saw the bank tottering. I saw my life wrecking to pieces." Sylvester would then lean back in his seat. He is only a derelict now. His shoes are broken. His shirt has no collar and his clothing is hanging in baggy shape on his skinny figure. "I couldn’t face the people the way they would look at me in Plainview," he would
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* SOURCE: Manzow, Ron (compiler), "The Sylvester Family of Plainview, Minnesota - a collection of information taken from the Plainview News, other newspapers, letters, and diaries beginning in 1884": Plainview Area History Center, 40 4th St. S.W., Plainview, MN 55964. Compiled in 2001.
NOTE: from Ron Manzow, December 2001: "Feel free to reproduce the pages for anyone who wants a copy. It was
compiled to be shared... All I ask is that they consider sending a check to the [Plainview Area] History Center to help us out. That
should be enough."
Howder; © 1995-2011 All Rights Reserved. Last Updated February 14, 2011.