"A man is on top of the Russel Erskine Hotel and he's gonna jump!" Within minutes all the citizens of downtown had heard the news. Eagerly, almost morbidly, they rushed to the scene of the impending tragedy. The street in front of the hotel became a mass of swirling humanity as crowds jostled for a better look.
"Someone said he works at the Arsenal and he just got a letter from his wife saying she is leaving him."
This news, by some unidentified source, was quickly consumed and spread by the four winds to the crowds who were now grasping at every morsel of new information.
Suddenly the still night air was rent by the screeching sounds of police cars arriving on the scene. Emerging from their cars, the policemen began pushing the crowds back with night sticks, trying to establish some sense of order.
"Be careful. He's got a gun," yelled a voice from out of the darkness. The crowd ran scurrying for cover and the policemen quickly ducked behind their automobiles for safety.
When a few minutes had passed with no shots being fired, the throng, now prompted by the latest developments, began surging forward. The crowd now numbered in the hundreds and was growing larger by the minute.
While the police were frantically working to regain control, the sounds of a woman screaming emerged above the noise of the mob. The crowd had inadvertently pushed her into a storefront window, breaking the glass, and now she was running hysterically down the street with blood streaming down her arms. Before the police could reach her, another woman began screaming. This woman had been knocked down by the crowd jostling for a better look.
Sensing that something had to be done, and quickly, the brave officers of the Huntsville Police Department drew their pistols and resolutely began making their way to the front entrance of the hotel where the unseen assailant lay in wait.
There was no hesitation in the purposeful stride of the policemen on that cold day in 1942. This was their town and this was their job. Someone had to take charge and they were the ones.
Cautiously, with their guns drawn, they took the elevator to the top floor. The men were silent, probably thinking of their loved ones and the danger that lay ahead.
History does not record the name of the first policeman to exit onto the roof, ready to do battle with the fiend lurking in the shadows. Nor is there the name of the man who, after receiving the dear John letter, tried to commit suicide. You see ... It never happened. There was no Dear John letter and there was no man on top of the hotel.
Some unknown person in that year of 1942 had started the rumor and within minutes downtown Huntsville had been caught up in a frenzied state of anticipation. Every rumor became fact and every fantasy became reality. And with every passing year the story became even more exaggerated. To this day there are people who will point at a spot on the sidewalk in front of the old hotel and tell you that it is where the "Dear John" jumper ended his life.
