This story begins in Indiana with a scrappy young lad named Alfred.
Alfred, was born on October 25, 1910. His father unfortunately passed away when Al was just two years old. His mother packed him up and moved to Indianapolis and remarried. Al was your typical country bumpkin of a boy (picture Opie), attending school, doing whatever young boys do. Then at the age of 16 his mother died. And if THAT wasn’t enough, his stepfather died when Al was 18. Talk about shit luck…..
Al Brady, took on a series of menial jobs including working in a clothing store, an errand boy for a food stand, mattress factory, welding in a car factory. Then, like most people who have no idea what they want to do with their life, he told the people he was staying with (who rarely saw him to begin with) that he was going to start travel as an insurance inspector.
Al, then packed up and jumped in his car and off he went like any carefree young man with nothing to lose would do. He drove across the country with his buddies, blasting the radio, making money hand over fist and living his best life.
Just kidding.
Al Brady and his gang of equally troubled young men became Public Enemy #1 in a short period of time. In fact, John Dillinger was the only thing keeping him from earning that rank, but once Dillinger’s days were over, Al Brady took over as America’s Most Wanted in 1934 at the ripe ol’ age of 23.
Bangor Community Digital Commons
This particular Brady Bunch, which also included three young men by the names of Shaffer, Dalhover and Geisking, would steal cars and rob stores. During one robbery, a store clerk was shot and killed as well as a police officer. The boys were arrested and Shaffer, Dalhover and Brady escaped prison, continuing their usual ways of robbing, running and shooting. They made their way east, eventually ending up in Bangor. “Why Maine?” you may ask.
Well, other than the fact that most other states don’t even know that Maine is a state, seemed like a pretty good place to hide. But the main reason was because Maine was known as a pretty easy place to acquire guns due to Maine’s reputation for hunting and lax gun laws. They didn’t think they would stand out or cause suspicion at all if they went gun shopping. Nope. No one’s going to blink an eye when 3 scrappy young men show up and purchase MORE AMMO THEN EVERY MOOSE HUNTER COMBINED. Oh, and let’s see, their purchase of SEMI-AUTOMATIC RIFLES AND THEIR INQUIRIES TO PURCHASE TOMMY GUNS.
If no one face-palmed just now, let me explain something to you.
YOU DON’T HUNT WITH SEMI AUTOMATIC RIFLES! YOU DON’T NEED A MURDER WEAPON TO TAKE DOWN A WILD ANIMAL. YOU DON’T USE THESE GUNS FOR HUNTING.
So, since people had common sense back then, the shop owner called the local police saying “something ain’t right here, sheriff. What the heck do these boys need machine guns for?” Two gun shop owners called in their suspicions to the local police, who then called the FBI, who then staked out the gun shop….the gun shop who told Brady, “I will have to order your semi-automatic rifles (murder weapons) because we don’t use semi-automatic rifles (murder weapons) to hunt. Why don’t you come back in a week or two.” Well. In a week or two, the FBI was there and waiting. Brady stayed in the car while Dalhover went inside to pick up the not-suspicious-at-all-order of weapons that no human actually needs for any good reason. Shaffer stood outside the shop and waited on the sidewalk….again…not suspicious at all.
So…the store clerk, who was actually an FBI agent named Walter Walsh (just so happens this guys is a complete bundle of awesomeness ) and after a scuffle of sorts, Dalhover was apprehended. His story ends with being taken back to Indiana, sentenced to death by electrocution and died on November, 18, 1938.
Shaffer and Brady decided to crank up the Bon Jovi and go down in a Blaze of Glory. Photos were hung of the aftermath behind the counter of the gun shop. The picture is of Shaffer and Brady laying dead in the street, with mobs of people standing around. I failed to mention that this was on Columbus Day (October 12, 1937) and people were out and about enjoying the festivities of the day. Surprisingly no one else was hurt, while Shaffer and Brady received over 60 bullet wounds. The agent who is responsible for Brady’s death is a sharpshooting bad ass named Walter Walsh….you know, the guy behind the counter. My question is, if he was behind the counter, what was everyone else in the FBI doing? He had time to take down Dalhover, run outside, probably had to somehow get passed Shaffer, then shoot and kill Brady.
Since Brady had no family and no one to claim his body, he was buried with an unmarked grave in Bangor, waaaaay down a dirt road a bit out of the way but still considered the cemetery. In 2007, They gave him a stone with his name and dates on it, which is nice of whoever was behind that….however….they followed this up with a ceremony….ok, still nice of whoever to do. Then, they followed this all up with a re-enactment of the shoot out in downtown Bangor. Is that really necessary? What are we celebrating here? Anywho, there is now a plaque on the sidewalk near where Brady was gunned down, marking the shoot out and the end of Brady and Co.’s crime spree.
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