Harald Kogler had lived a good life, and if but for a case of mistaken identity would probably be living one now. Born to Austrian immigrants in 1895, Harald arrived in the States at age 10. He was a large kid who grew into a giant man. In school, Kogler had excelled at strength sports, and at age 16 at a robust six foot five inches and 360 pounds, he had left school and found a job in the Gransby Brother’s Travelling Circus as a performer. For nine fantastic years, he traveled all over the eastern United States wowing the crowd by pressing heavy objects over his head, bar bending, and chain breaking.
But that all ended in 1920.
As Kogler was walking downtown in Huntington, West Virginia on a day
furlough after three days of shows at the fairgrounds, police arrived at the
scene of a bank robbery in process. In a
confusing series of events, Kogler was arrested as an accessory, solely based
on his proximity to the crime and his appearance as “someone who would rob a
bank if he so chose.” The Gransby
Brothers had tried to help, hiring a local lawyer for $50, but they had to
abandon Harald for the next shows in Charleston – “the show must go on!” – leaving
Harald in the unfamiliar town to fend for himself. Harald, though strong of stature was fairly
weak of mind, and never good at putting sentences together. His attorney, a man named Willi Lundy, who
was a fast speaking slickster and who had already been paid as much as he was
ever going to get, instantly pursued a lenient sentence, not even testing
Harald’s innocence with the circuit judge.
Harald was sentenced as a bank robber to 30 years in the State
Penitentiary.
Conditions at the Penitentiary were awful, and Harald used
to being on the open road and seeing nothing but happy smiling faces, grew into
a deep depression. He had no idea where
his real family or his circus family were.
The people here were nothing like a family. Most of the inmates left Harald alone, but
one day in the yard, some of the guys tried to get Harald to play
basketball. Harald was familiar with the
game from school, but he never played – he was too slow, and running tired him
too easily. He politely declined, but
one annoying, little man, named Moose, who to Harald was more like a Mouse, wouldn’t take no for
an answer. He kept goading Harald,
calling him a stupid palooka, a dimwit, and a sap. Harald didn’t want to play, but also didn’t
want any trouble, so he told Moose, “OK.
I will play with ball. One time.”
Moose ordered, “Just stand here by the basket, you dumb
palooka, and when I give you the ball, you throw it in the basket. Don’t ever
move from this spot.” And to the other
team, “Now we’ve got the secret weapon – you guys said he couldn’t even
talk. Two packs of butts for the
winners.”
Harald stood in his designated spot and darned if he
couldn’t even make one basket. Moose was
becoming more and more irritated and near the end of the game, losing 15-2,
Moose kicked Harald in the knee and called timeout. Harald howled in pain as his knee buckled
backwards, but he didn’t go down.
Instead, he took the ball from Moose and placing it between his huge
hands, he crushed it until it popped with a loud bang. Moose was flabbergasted. Those who didn’t like Moose applauded, in awe
of Harald’s strength. Moose wasn’t the
least bit happy when the opposing team told him that he forfeited and the
cigarettes were theirs. He almost went
after Harald, but decided to cut his losses, instead, telling Harald in a loud
voice to “watch his back.”
Moose’s gang didn’t mess with Harald for a while and he
became a little bit of a celebrity at the Prison, though he didn’t dare blow up
any more basketballs, which were in short supply - the first one took three months to
replace. But one day, while eating in
the commons, a couple of Moose’s gang approached Harald from behind with
homemade shivs, stabbing him in the back six times, and saying “Moose sends his
regards.” Luckily for Harald, he was
sent to the infirmary and none of the wounds had hit anything vital, only
sinking through the thick muscle on his back.
The two assailants were sent to isolation as a penalty, but nothing
happened to Moose. Moose continued to
distance himself from Harald, but Harald knew he would never be safe from
Moose’s attacks. He began to eat with his
back to the wall, surround himself with known supporters, and limit his activity
in the yard. He began to sink back into
a depressed state.
Moose’s gang attacked Harald twice more within the next nine months, managing to slice open his cheek and neck, the second of the two
injuries being life-threatening. Harald
was placed in isolation for his own safety “til things cooled off”, but this
was no way to live. In January, midway through his second year, he was re-introduced into the general population and Moose was
waiting for him. Time had apparently
made Moose bolder and his gang was one of the most influential and powerful in
the prison. With a group of 10 backers,
Moose walked up to Harald in the yard and exclaimed, beating his chest and
waving his arms, “I run this yard, I run this whole fucking prison. You work for me. Got it?”
Something snapped inside Harald that day. It was not in his nature to be rash, but
Moose always managed to bring out the worst in him. He grabbed Moose by the sides of his head and
headbutted him into unconsciousness, then dropped him on the concrete in front
of his buddies. They were more
interested in getting their boss to safety, than an immediate backlash, but
most of them yelled at Harald, “Oh, you’re gonna pay… You’re dead meat, palooka… You just signed your death sentence.”
Harald saw Moose across the commons the next day, with an
outlandish wrap around his head, which to Harald looked like the one Benji the
Fire-Eater used to wear at the Circus.
Moose, not as amused, made gun shapes with his fingers and thumbs and
pretended to shoot Harald, who was sure if someone could get a gun into the
Pen, it would be Moose. Three months
later it was.
Moose walked across the yard with his cronies on March 16, 1922, and Harald was ready for another altercation, but not sure what was in store
this time. Moose approached, “Hey there
Palooka, I’ve been thinkin’…” and produced a snub-nosed pistol, which he fired
into Harald. Harald barely felt the
bullet enter his left pectoral muscle as he lurched toward Moose, and before Moose could get another shot off, grabbed him by the coat, lifting him off the
ground for another headbutt, but in an instant, realizing headbutts were
temporary, grabbed each of Moose’s ears and started to press inward. Moose screamed as the tension in his head
became unbearable and then there was an audible crack, as the skull began to
implode around his ears on both sides.
Harald, seeing nothing but white with his rage, pressed even harder, barely noticing the pain in his left chest, and determined
to complete the job he started, re-gripped
and pushed the intact forward skull on either side of Moose’s eye sockets as he
howled in pain. Both sockets collapsed simultaneously, one eye popping out and the other
disappearing into the skull cavity. It
was at this point that someone had recovered the gun off the yard and started wildly shooting at Harald, but only hitting Moose, twice in the back.
Moose’s head was a bloody mess and Harald just kept pressing
until his hands were only inches apart.
He wailed in anguish from the physical exertion and the emotional toll
and slumped to the ground, his hands firmly embedded in his nemesis’ skull
until the guards were able to separate and detain him.
Harald was treated for the gunshot wound and lacerations to
both hands where skull fragments had penetrated deeply into his palms, and upon
release was moved immediately into 24-hour isolation in a 5x7 foot cell where
he remained. Day after day in the tiny
cell, Harald had time to reflect on his life and how it had deteriorated into
nothingness. He woke up depressed, cried
to himself, and doubted he would ever get out of prison. It was suggested that his 30-year sentence
would be increased to a life sentence for the murder of John “Moose” Hawkins
and that he may remain in this cell for the rest of his days. Time took its toll on the already mentally
challenged inmate and on an unbearably hot August day in 1922, on what he believed was his 27th
birthday, Harald, in a fit of grief, placed his head in his hands, and
apologizing to “God and everyone” with a cry of despair, applied an effort of
instantaneous pressure to his temples so violently that his own skull imploded
into his brain tissue and he was killed instantly. His body was placed in an extra-large coffin and buried in nearby Whitegate
cemetery with those of other unclaimed prisoners, two rows and eight plots down
from Moose Hawkins.