Charles
Frederick Rogers got away with an almost perfect crime.
Rogers
is the main suspect in Houston’s 1965 “Ice Box Murders.” He is believed to have killed his elderly
parents, with whom he lived, dismembering their bodies and stashing the parts
in the kitchen refrigerator. Aside from a
possible sighting shortly thereafter, Rogers vanished from sight. The executors of his estate had him declared
dead in 1975.
Described
as a recluse and seldom seen by his family and their acquaintances, Charles
Rogers is more shadow than substance. We
can start with a few establishing facts.
He was born in Houston in 1921, the son of Fred and Edwina. He had an older sister, Betty, who died in a
1929 car accident.
Charles’
childhood was nothing to write home about.
By all rights, it should have been normal. Fred hailed from a respected family of
farmers and had attended college for a time.
Edwina, the daughter of sharecroppers, sought security in marriage but
didn’t get it. Fred liked to bet on the
ponies and eventually became a bookie.
He was also a heavy drinker with a violent streak, and Fred and Edwina argued constantly and
bitterly. There were numerous
separations after Betty’s death. Throughout it all, Charles frequently bore the brunt of both parents’ wrath.
Edwina
eventually ended up running a seedy hotel in Houston. Fred, who had learned the ins in outs of real
estate from an early apprenticeship, became an agent and lender himself. He specialized in acquiring houses in poor
African American neighborhoods by deceiving the heirs of their deceased owners
by telling them that the title history was unsettled and offering them cash up
front as an alternative to probate. Houston,
then as now, famously didn’t have zoning laws.
Fred would demolish the houses and sell the land for industrial use at a
profit.
Charles
was bright but unathletic. Like lots of
kids in the 1930s, he was fascinated by electronics and science fiction. He wasn’t very social, living within his own
mind, and passed through high school without making much of an impression. The Depression notwithstanding, he was able
to attain a university education.
It
didn’t start out well, however. Perhaps
at his father’s insistence, Charles enrolled at Texas A & M, which was then
solely a military school. Cadet life and
the hazing meted out to “fish” (new students) did not agree with him, and he
dropped out after a few weeks. He went
on to finish a geology degree at the University of Houston.
By
then there was a war on, and the studious young man joined the Navy for the
duration. Here is where we need to take a look at his wartime service, because the page dedicated to Charles Rogers in the Online Repository of All Knowledge makes a few dubious claims about this period in his
life. The article says that Charles was
a Naval aviator during the war and subsequently worked in the Office of Naval
Intelligence.
The official account says differently. Unsurprisingly, Charles served as a radio operator, first on USS Barnes
and then on USS Richmond. He was
at sea for 2 ½ years and finished his service as a Radioman First Class. He was clearly good at his job and was
capable of supervising junior sailors.
An honorable, though unremarkable war record.
So
why the implied cloak and dagger stuff?
It seems all conspiratorial roads in Texas lead to Dallas, and this
claim concerning Charles Rogers’ service is no exception. It’s true Charles later became a private
pilot to facilitate his work as a petroleum industry geologist and that a
couple of planes he once owned figure in his escape / disappearance after his
parents’ murder. However, he didn’t
become a licensed pilot until the late 1950s. The Wikipedia article mentions that Charles volunteered with the Civil
Air Patrol during this time and made the acquaintance of a fellow CAP pilot
from New Orleans named David Ferrie.
If
the name David Ferrie rings a bell, it’s because he was posthumously a leading
figure in one of the most bizarre criminal trials ever mounted in American
history. If you’ve seen the Oliver Stone
film JFK, you probably are aware that Orleans Parish district attorney
Jim Garrison accused New Orleans businessman Clay Shaw of masterminding the
Kennedy assassination. Shaw was
acquitted at his 1969 trial and remains the only individual ever prosecuted for
the John F. Kennedy assassination, but Garrison’s claims have nevertheless emboldened
several generations of conspiracy nuts.
Garrison’s
theory is convoluted to say the least, but the gist was that Shaw and David Ferrie worked for the overthrow of the
Castro regime in Cuba. President Kennedy
was targeted by the group for his “betrayal” of the Bay of Pigs invaders. Lee Harvey Oswald, who may or may not have
belonged to Ferrie’s CAP unit for a brief spell in the late 1950s, was
supposedly a member of this cabal who was unwittingly set up as the “patsy,” to
use Oswald’s own words, for Kennedy’s assassination. Oswald’s purported pro-Castro sympathies were
just a cover for his true, anticommunist sentiments say the conspiracy buffs.
Where,
then, does Charles F. Rogers of Houston, Texas, fit into this scheme? I could not find any mention of him from
Garrison’s accounts or in Stone’s movie.
(The Wikipedia page cites a third source.) However, this may be where the claim Charles
was in Naval intelligence comes in. It might
have been extrapolated from a theory about Lee Oswald and subsequently conflated
with the allegation Rogers associated with Ferrie.
Garrison
conjectured that Oswald’s defection to the Soviet Union after his hardship
discharge from the Marines was really part of an intelligence gathering
effort. Why else would Oswald have
studied Russian while stationed in Japan?
After coming home, Oswald kept in touch with his one-time handlers. There’s a street scene in JFK where
Garrison, played by Kevin Costner, tries to link Oswald’s alleged Fair Play for
Cuba Committee office on Camp Street to the nearby federal building which
housed the Office of Naval Intelligence’s New Orleans offices:
GARRISON: Lou, you were in the
Marines. What’s that little saying they
have?
IVON: Once ONI, always ONI.
BROUSSARD: Well, he [Oswald] likes
workin’ near his old pals.
Bear
with me, if you will. Charles plays a
supplemental role in the Garrison theory, in which he’s found to be in Dallas
on the morning of November 22, 1963 as one of the so-called Three Tramps. You might recall that three transients were
detained by the Dallas Police near Dealey Plaza shortly before the President’s
motorcade passed through. The names of
the so-called tramps, who were just that, were conclusively established a long
time ago. But this hasn’t stopped
various “experts,” not to mention numerous others who have never heard of
Occam’s Razor, from weighing in on who they really were.
Consider
the well-known photo of the tramps taken after they were in custody. The tallest of the three has been claimed to
be convicted murderer Charles Harrelson (actor Woody Harrelson’s father). Harrelson later said that during a 1980
police shootout he did say he was one of the assassins, but only out of
desperation to end the confrontation. (This
disavowal has not prevented attempts to connect Harrelson with Oswald’s killer
Jack Ruby.)
Even without Harrelson, there's no shortage of candidates. A
fabulist named Chauncey Holt said he was a “CIA operative” sent to deliver
forged Secret Service credentials and was arrested by the police with the other
two as transients. Watergate figures H. Howard Hunt and Frank Sturgis have been
fingered as part of the trio as well.
Finally, there’s my favorite of all: During the 2016 Republican
primaries Donald Trump implied that the father of one of his rivals, Texas
senator Ted Cruz, was one of the Three Tramps.
And
Charles Rogers? He does bear a fleeting
resemblance to the shortest of the three men.
(Charles stood 5’ 5”.) Beyond
that, the connection is flimsy even if you scrunch your eyes and look at it
from an angle. But…
Let’s
connect the dots. Charles Rogers knew
David Ferrie, who was Lee Harvey Oswald’s co-conspirator whom Ferrie (and
probably Rogers) met through the Civil Air Patrol. Rogers was former ONI, and so was
Oswald. Don’t you get it?
Neither
do I. It’s pure conspiratorial garbage,
but at least it’s entertaining.
But
none of this addresses the actual life trajectory of Charles Rogers, the facts
of which are just as intriguing.
To
be continued…
©
2019 The Unassuming Scholar
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