MUSKEGON, Mich. — Beneath a fading canopy of fall leaves in Muskegon’s Oakwood Cemetery, two headstones are forever entwined. Worn and weathered, one marks the final resting place of George "Dutch" Anderson, a notorious criminal. The other, standing with pride, remembers Detective Charles Hammond.
The two men shot each other on Halloween night 1925 in Muskegon. They were later buried a short distance apart. Ninety-nine years later, the Lakeshore Museum Center is retelling the story of the infamous shooting.
“This catapulted Muskegon into the national press,” said Pat Horn, program manager at the museum. “A human story, really.”
The names on the stones
Born in Ravenna, Charles Hammond began his professional career as a line worker. He later entered the police force and rose the ranks to become a detective in Muskegon.
Meanwhile, George "Dutch" Anderson was no local. Born to a wealthy family in Scandinavia, he graduated from a college in Sweden before immigrating to the United States. He then enrolled at the University of Wisconsin, and later dropped out. A well-educated, smooth-talking man, he began a life of crime, one that would lead him to his death.
“The adrenaline rush,” Horn said. “He really chose this life.”
A life of crime
In 1921, Anderson and his partner, Gerald Chapman – who could be called the "Al Capone before Al Capone" – stole $2.4 million in jewelry, bonds and other goods from a mail truck. At the time, the heist was the largest in the history of the U.S. Postal Service.
The two were later arrested for the crime and sentenced to 25 years in federal prison. Around a year into their sentences, though, they separately escaped through a tunnel dug by incarcerated tuberculosis patients, whose tools were a lunch tray, trowel and a spoon.
“Almost a celebrity for being a criminal,” Horn said about Anderson’s reputation after his and Chapman’s escape. “People spotted Dutch Anderson in their town; they spotted them in this town. Within the same week, he went from Iowa to Massachusetts. Maybe that’s a lot of ground to be covering.”
The Candy Bar
In 1925, on Halloween night in Muskegon, Anderson used a $20 bill, counterfeit, to buy a candy bar from a confectionery and tea shop. The clerk accepted the bill, but had her brother run to a nearby bank to check its validity.
“Twenty dollars in the 1920s is a decent amount of money,” said Horn, referencing inflation. “It’s like getting $100 today.”
The bill was a fake. The shop called police, who put Det. Charles Hammond on the case.
“At the time, he thinks it’s a counterfeiter,” Horn said. “He doesn’t really know it's this wanted criminal.”
A short time later, Hammond spotted Anderson in the area. He escorted him back to the police station, likely leading him with a hand on his shoulder, according to Horn.
In an alley between the police station and the confectionery shop, Anderson tried to escape, shooting Hammond in the liver and lung. The detective returned fire.
While stories differ, an initial account from the Muskegon Chronicle said Hammond, bleeding heavily, reported back to the police station with Anderson in tow, saying, “He got me. He got me.” A later account from the Grand Rapids Press said a second officer showed up to the scene of the shooting, apprehending Anderson before helping Hammond.
“A bit of hometown bias. They really want to paint him as this glorious hero who gave his life and did this heroic act,” Horn said about the Chronicle’s report.
An autopsy would later confirm it was Hammond’s shot that killed Anderson, though the detective never knew he had put a permanent end to another man's life of crime.
“This wanted criminal is being taken off the streets. This murderer is being taken off the streets,” Horn said. “This catapulted Muskegon into the national press.”
Still, the program director says there’s a somber element to the story, too. In losing his life, Hammond also left behind a wife and four children.
“A lot of facets,” Horn said about the legacy of the shooting. “A human story, really.”
Twice buried
The headstone for Charles Hammond, positioned near the center of Oakwood Cemetery in Muskegon, says the detective died “in heroic performance of his duty.”
However, Anderson’s stone did not appear at the cemetery for some time later, as he was originally buried in a potter’s field when no one claimed his body. When a Georgian got wind of the burial, they offered Muskegon police $1,000 for the body, planning to put it on display and charge admission. Police considered the offer, wanting to donate the money to Hammond’s widow, but declined due to laws that prevented the sale.
Later, a lawyer who “came to represent” Anderson had his body exhumed, but when he looked at the corpse, he believed it was the wrong man.
“The lawyer looked at [the body.] He said, ‘No, I don't think this is it,’” Horn said.
The confusion led to an engraving that still can be seen on Anderson’s headstone: a question mark.
“A weird turn of events that these two [Anderson and Hammond] would be so linked in such a short time and then such a long time,” Horn said.
