The Man Who Killed Boys (8 page)

Part of a three-block tract of homes erected in the mid-1950s, Gacy's sturdily constructed house was built with a yellow shingle front, wooden sides painted red, and a green shingled sloped roof. A garage was at the rear, with small lawns at the front and back. A previous owner had added two rooms to the rear of the house, a dining room and a playroom for a daughter. The addition was built over supporting two-by-twelve-inch joists, with plywood flooring lowered a few inches so that it was necessary to step down to enter that part of the house from the main living area. There was also a living room, a utility room, and bath.

A trap door leading to a four-foot-deep crawl space that hugged the foundation of the original house was built into the floor of a bedroom closet. Most of the houses in the subdivision were constructed similarly with a crawl space or vapor area and air vents in front and back. The back vents in Gacy's house had been closed off when the addition was constructed. Crawl spaces were more economical than basements.

The housing tract was constructed in a low-lying area, and neighborhood historians claimed that the original soil was removed from the farmland and hauled into the city for the 1933 Chicago Century of Progress. Consequently, during some seasons of the year the damaged landscape became soggy and marshlike.

The first owner of the house at 8213 West Summerdale had trouble with dampness and water seeping into the crawl space. Yet the neighboring house was constructed almost exactly the same and the crawl space was dry year-round. The Grexa family, next door, suspected that the trouble at 8213 may have been caused by an underwater stream.

By the time Gacy moved into the house, four owners had lived in it. Each, like the couple who had added the dining room and playroom, had made a few alterations to please his own tastes.

The newest owner was no different from the others in that respect. From the time he moved in until the time he left the house forever, he seemed to be constantly puttering. It appeared to his neighbors that he was forever hammering or sawing at the walls inside, or busy outside adding outbuildings, laying cement, digging holes, or fighting the dampness in the crawl space with lime. He was unfailingly able to find a project to keep him busy. When he covered the yellow shingles with an orange brick veneer and decorative outcropping to give the house a Spanish embellishment, some of his neighbors winced at his garish taste. It didn't fit in with the rest of the houses in the neighborhood.

Gacy fashioned a recreation room for himself out of the onetime playroom, installed a sliding glass door, and added a pool table, game machines, and a bar that he kept stocked with several bottles each of J&B Scotch, good blended whiskey, gin, vodka, and an occasional bottle of brandy. The icebox always held a couple of six-packs of beer and two or three cases were stacked in a corner of the utility room with still more whiskey and mix. A red "Stop" sign hung on one wall.

Despite his industriousness at home, Gacy was finding time for activities and new acquaintances that neither his family nor his neighbors could imagine.

The Greyhound Bus Terminal at Clark and Randolph Streets in Chicago's Loop is one of the busiest bus stations in the world. Every day thousands of passengers from cities, towns, and farms throughout the United States and from foreign countries arrive aboard sleek scenic cruisers. For some, the trip marks the first time away from the protective care of parents and friends.

Inevitably there are people waiting to take advantage of the vulnerability of youngsters arriving alone in the big city. Bus and train terminals are notorious as the preserves of pimps and perverts on the lookout for young girls or boys to be seduced and used for private sexual pleasure or turned into prostitutes.

On February 12, 1971, John Wayne Gacy, Jr. was charged by Chicago police with disorderly conduct on the complaint of a teenage boy. The youngster, an admitted homosexual, said he was picked up at the bus terminal by Gacy, who then took him to his home and tried to force him to commit a sexual act. The case was dismissed when the boy failed to appear in court. It had been eight months since Gacy was released from prison.

Gacy's neighbors didn't learn about his troubles with the boy. Neither did the Iowa Board of Parole. Unaware that Gacy had been accused of a sex offense in Chicago, and basing their judgment in part on reports from Illinois that he was adjusting well to his freedom, the board approved his release from parole and he was officially discharged on October 18, 1971. The discharge was signed by board chairman George L. Paul the next day. On November 22, Iowa Governor Robert D. Ray reinstated full citizenship to Gacy. Restoration of citizenship is routine and is recommended by the Board of Parole for most ex-convicts in Iowa who have successfully completed parole after first offenses.

If Gacy celebrated full restoration of his citizenship rights or his release from parole, it didn't slow his work on the house.

The racket of pounding hammers and busy saws continued to emanate from the Gacy home, persevering through the day and into the night.

He moved the tub in the bathroom, shifting it to a location facing the doorway, and constructed a long vanity. Several mirrors were hung. The kitchen was completely remodeled and wood paneling was nailed conspicuously in place, with finishing nails left glaringly visible. He bought three freezers, a new icebox, automatic slicers, and a couple of dozen knives. The kitchen reflected his familiarity with cooking as a profession and was outfitted as well as those in most restaurants.

Spanish ceramics and metal sculptures of matadors and picadors were interspersed on shelves and end tables with figurines of horses and other knickknacks. Bright rainbow-hued paintings and drawings of clowns were hung on the walls. Potted plants were placed on windowsills and hung from windows. There was little evidence of planning to the decorative scheme.

In spite of Gacy's efforts, neighbors and other guests sometimes went home shaking their heads in dismay over his inept and garish decorating and uneven handiwork. He explained to friends that working on his house enabled him to show off his renovation and remodeling ideas. He worked in and around the house steadily during the years he lived there. His main problem was that he never seemed to have time to properly finish the jobs he started. And although some of his ideas were imaginative, it was obvious to several of his acquaintances who were knowledgeable in the building trades that he was not a craftsman.

He wasn't in the house long before a bricked-in patio was built between the back door and garage, and he was planting flowers around it. Some time later he constructed a new cement stoop.

Next door, Edward J. and Lillie Grexa observed the activity with interest. They had become the first residents to move into the tract of homes in 1954 and they had watched other families move in and out of neighboring bungalows. Now the house at 8213 was occupied again, this time by a bachelor. He was a man who kept busy. Only the Grexas' driveway and a few feet of green lawn separated the houses, so they were always aware of his activities as he hauled in lumber or cement and puttered with his plants or busied himself at other outdoor work. Occasionally, Ed or Lillie or their neighbor would raise a hand and wave as they went about their business, but there was no socializing or visiting back and forth—not until the new neighbor had been in his home for a couple of months.

It was Christmas Eve and the Grexas were observing the holiday with a family gathering that included Ed's mother and other relatives, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Their neighbor was standing outside with a large box of fruit in his arms. He greeted them with a broad smile that pushed his cheeks up, crowding the eyes into amiable slits.

"Hi. I know I should have called on you sooner, but I'm your neighbor. They tell me you have six kids here so I know you can use this fruit," he said, shoving the box toward Mrs. Grexa. "If you folks aren't doing anything tomorrow night," he said, as she took the fruit from him, "I'd like to have you come over and meet my mother and the rest of the family. They'll all be there."

He was right. With five daughters and a son, the Grexas could use the fruit. And they were pleased to accept the invitation to visit on Christmas night.

Christmas Day Mrs. Grexa baked a tray of cookies and that evening she and her husband told the children, who were busy playing with Christmas toys, that they were going to visit the new neighbor. Most of the people in the block use the back doors for visiting, and the Grexas did the same. They tapped on the door, and their genial neighbor had barely opened it so that they could walk in when his mother threw her arms around Lillie Grexa and kissed her. Ed Grexa was given more of the same.

Introductions to Gacy's two sisters and another young woman who was identified as Carole Hoff were less emotional. Two little girls were introduced as Carole's daughters.

Lillie Grexa is a confident, friendly woman with strawberry-blonde hair who bristles at being called a redhead. She loves to cook, bowl, mother, and neighbor. She is easy to talk to, alert but not nosy, gregarious but not pushy. But even she was surprised by the warmth of the greeting. Mrs. Gacy hugged her as if they were old friends. The greeting was genuine and it wasn't long before the little group was relaxed and at ease with each other. After drinks were prepared by the host and they had chatted and listened a while to Christmas music played on his stereo, they were as comfortable as if they were indeed old friends. When they left for their home a few hours later, they had spent an enjoyable evening that was to mark the beginning of a seven-year friendship.

It was late at night on January 3, 1972. Christmas lights and pine wreaths decorated many of the windows and front porches of houses in the neighborhood. A heavy covering of dirty snow helped mask sounds along the quiet street, and residents slumbered peacefully, exhausted after the activities of the holidays. There was only one person to hear the boy's last muffled groan as the knife slashed through his young flesh and he died. That person was the man who was holding the knife
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The Grexas socialized regularly with Gacy after their Christmas meeting. Their neighbor and his mother liked to play pinochle and the Grexas dropped by at Gacy's house occasionally for conversation, a few drinks, and a hand or two of cards, or they hosted the game in their own home. Sometimes they played poker, but whatever the game was, it was always friendly for small stakes.

Often when the neighbors got together to visit or play cards. Carole was also there as Gacy's partner. So Lillie Grexa wasn't surprised when some months later he informed her that he and Carole were going to marry on June 1. Although he was a nominal Catholic, he was divorced, so the ceremony was to be in the St. Paul Lutheran Church a few blocks away. He told Lillie he was disappointed that his first marriage hadn't worked out, and he was anxious to make this one a success. He said his first wife was a daughter of Colonel Harlan Sanders, founder of the Kentucky Fried Chicken chain.

Carole had just gone through a divorce, and John, the brother of two of her best friends and the boy she had once dated in high school, was there to offer comfort when she needed it. She knew he had been in prison, but was to later remember that "he swept me off my feet. I don't think I loved him, but I was still mixed up about my first marriage, and he treated me well."
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There seemed to be much to recommend a marriage to Gacy. He had always been an engaging, considerate companion. He was generous, industrious, and got along well with the girls. Carole, of course, already had a good relationship with her future in-laws. There was every indication that marriage into the family could provide her with comfort and security for herself and her daughters. John had even agreed when Carole suggested that her mother move in with them for a while after the wedding, even though the older woman didn't favor the marriage. There were aspects of the prospective bridegroom's personality that bothered her. His erratic temper was worrisome. He could be perfectly calm one moment, and in a rage the next.

The couple nevertheless went ahead with plans for the wedding, and Gacy told his friends next door that he intended to do his own catering at the reception. It would be convenient for him to prepare the food and much of the work could be done in the restaurant he worked in downtown.

Lillie Grexa was pleased that John and Carole would be getting married. He had been a delightful and considerate neighbor since moving next door, and it was good for a man to have a woman around. Lillie said that if there was any way she could help with the reception, all he had to do was ask. She reminded him that as a homemaker and mother of six children, she also knew a few things about the preparation of good food.

"Even if I say so myself, I make a pretty good potato salad," she boasted. "Just give me an idea of how many people you're going to invite and I'll take care of the potato salad for you." She had cooked for big groups before. Sometimes at birthday parties she and her husband gave for her father, as many as seventy people were at the house for meals. The suggestion sounded good to Gacy. He would, of course, provide the ingredients.

"I figure there should be about one-hundred-twenty-five to one-hundred-fifty people here for the reception," he told his neighbor.

"We should have about fifty pounds of potatoes then," she said, "plus the other ingredients."

"No, we're going to need a lot more than that," he corrected her.

Lillie had mentally computed one or two spoonfuls of potato salad, multiplied 125 to 150 times. "John, fifty pounds is plenty," she said, her forehead wrinkling at the prospect of trays and platters heaped with mounds of leftover potato salad.

The bridegroom insisted on at least one hundred pounds of potatoes, and it was his wedding, so one hundred pounds it was. When he bought or prepared food, even at home, he did it as if he were ordering supplies for one of the restaurants he had worked at. He bought in case lots. The storeroom and closets were filled with cases of canned foods, cereal, soap, cleanser, and wrapping paper. One of his friends observed that there was always enough food and kitchen supplies in the house to sit out a war and never touch a ration book.