The gangland killing of "Ponzi" Albino that ended the story — and the murder of an innocent bystander that started it — gave more weight to the June 17 "beer war shoot-out" in downtown Syracuse, but for sheer chaos and this-must-be-a-movie excitement, you couldn't beat what had happened eleven days earlier.

It was a motorcycle-car chase that started at Fairmount Corners and ended in Wolf Hollow, a wooded area off Onondaga Boulevard where the towns of Onondaga, Geddes and Camillus meet. But the chase was merely Act One.

There was a Solvay connection, of course, though that was secondary; this was one of those crazy truth-is-stranger-than-fiction examples.

Involved were four gangster wannabes — three from Chicago, one from Kansas City. They stole an automobile in the Windy City and headed toward New York City, planning, as one of them put it, to "muscle in on the stickup racket." They believed Chicago was too tough, and that it would be easier to succeed in New York.

Perhaps it would have been, but this trip, which provided a lesson in Onondaga County geography, came to an end about 300 miles short of its target. How did they wind up at a retired judge's woodsy estate in Taunton, a hamlet in the town of Onondaga?

Well, it wasn't easy. The miracle is that no one was killed along the way. Today the event would be rehashed and over-analyzed on television; many lives had been placed at risk. During this era, however, things often were done this way.

THE FOUR MEN didn't know each other well. They met at a Chicago pool hall a few weeks before yielding to an impulse to travel east. Because their adventure originated in Chicago, police and reporters in Syracuse suspected the four men might be soldiers in Al Capone's gangster army, assigned to help settle a New York City dispute. The three men who were caught denied knowing Capone, and their denials were convincing because they came across as crime school drop-outs, perhaps destined to remain small-time crooks.

Their downfall began with a stupid decision at a gasoline station near Auburn, New York, when they filled their tank and left without paying. The attendant noted the make, model and license plate number — and called the state police.

Within minutes Trooper Ertman Crouse, a motorcycle officer, arrived at Fairmount Corners (West Genesee Street and Onondaga Road), and began checking eastbound cars. It was shortly after noon. Trooper Crouse would say later that he expected no trouble and intended to escort the offending motorists back to Auburn and make them pay for the gasoline. In perhaps the understatement of the year, Crouse said it seemed like "an easy assignment."

Reporter James Gordon Fraser described what happened next:

This account has the first shots being fired on West Genesee Street, the main east-west highway in and out of Syracuse. This seems unlikely. Later versions had the exchange of gunfire beginning soon after the car turned south on Fay Road, along the Solvay village line, near the Wescott Reservoir (which was under construction at the time). The gangsters later expressed surprise that Crouse stayed with them on Fay Road, which is why the first shots almost certainly were fired there.

It was on Fay Road that the gangsters passed a car driven by local real estate broker Perry Morgan. This momentarily put Morgan between the gangsters and Trooper Crouse. A shotgun blast from the gangsters' car hit Morgan's vehicle, with one pellet coming narrowly missing Morgan's head.

Further down Fay Road, probably near the present-day site of Bishop Ludden School, Trooper Crouse managed to pull alongside the car. He said later he intended to shoot the driver to stop the vehicle. But the driver swerved into the trooper's path, forcing the motorcycle into a ditch.

Then came one of those Hollywood moments. Unhurt, Crouse was forced to abandon the motorcycle. At that moment Floyd Howell of Fairmount drove up in his car. Crouse flagged him down, jumped on the running board and ordered Howell to pursue the bandits.

Thus the chase briefly resumed, with the trooper firing from his perch on the running board of Howell’s car.

Stories didn't make it clear how and where the car went into a ditch, but based on my recollection of the area and one five-way intersection in particular, I'm making a guess — that the driver of the car attempted to turn right onto Terry Road, went wide and then veered left toward Onondaga Boulevard, going off the road instead. This forced them to flee on foot.

Soon word got out that something big was happening. Cars pulled off the roads that surrounded the Wolf Hollow estate; some people went into the woods, others stayed by the cars — and when something prompted them to tilt their heads, the cry went out: "Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! No, it's a plane!" But it might as well have been Superman.

Afterward most agreed that the highlight of the manhunt — which continued all afternoon — was the performance of pilot Emil Roth.

The search continued for another hour before a third bandit was found in the woods. He called himself William Mack and was a 29-year-old Chicagoan. He had been hiding in a clump of bushes for more than three hours. He put up a brief fight before surrendering, but refused to talk.

The fourth bandit, "Little Harry" Ronan, was never found. Regarded by the others as the toughest, most experienced gangster of the bunch, Ronan had outfoxed everyone, though how he did it may have had more to do with an injured ankle than ingenuity.

When his companions scrambled out of the car and fled on foot toward the woods, Ronan chose to hide in the ditch. He waited until Trooper Crouse had started after the others, then popped up and surprised Howell, who was standing beside his automobile.

Later Howell told reporters that Ronan's orders were clear: "Drive me up the road! And don't let a squawk out of you or I'll bump you off!"

After driving a short distance, Howell was tossed out of the car. Ronan slid behind the wheel and made his escape. Chances are he was long gone before police reinforcements arrived. He drove to Syracuse, ditched Howell's automobile, stole another car and apparently backtracked and headed west, toward Chicago. Later in the day a car crashed through a police barricade about 40 miles west of Syracuse. Police figured it was Ronan behind the wheel.

One thing almost certainly wrong about Ryan's account was the identity of the driver. "Big Harry" Sulton didn't say much, but he did tell police he was at the wheel, which seems reasonable considering the ankle injury reportedly suffered by "Little Harry."

However, since police believed all the shots fired from the car had come from passengers in the back seat, "Big Harry" may have thought he had reason to lie, though several weeks later he said something that seemed to support his version — that he deliberately ditched the car to avoid hitting a school bus which was headed toward him after he made a wide right turn at what probably was Terry Road. Police came to believe Sulton was telling the truth, though I saw no explanation of why a school bus would be on the road on a Saturday afternoon.

This might also explain Ryan's reference to a left turn; that is, if the driver abruptly went left to avoid an oncoming vehicle. If I have located the Wolf Hollow estate correctly, it would have been just north of what I always considered a peculiar intersection, with two streets (Terry Road and Onondaga Boulevard) coming together at Fay Road. Most references to the Wolf Hollow estate locate it in Taunton, but sometimes it's in Split Rock, and I found two references to it being in Fairmount. But I'm thinking the car went into the ditch along Onondaga Boulevard (a bit of a misnomer), just west of Terry Road. (Someone please correct me if I'm wrong.)

Ryan may not have realized that only two of his companions followed him out of the ditch and tried to escape on foot. "Little Harry," either because of his injured ankle or because he guessed Trooper Crouse might not know exactly how many men had cleared the fence and were running toward the woods, never left the ditch. His strategy paid off because "Little Harry" Ronan was never seen again.

Later John Ryan, who was either nervous or enjoying the attention, talked freely with reporters, saying he and his companions were "just three lousy tramps from the West, trying to get along."

Questioned about a possible association with Al Capone, Ryan laughed. "Big shots? We're not even birdshot, if you know what I mean. Capone never heard of any of us, unless it's 'Little Harry' Romer [Ronan]. I wish he had; maybe he'd get us out of here!"

Police would learn that Ryan, 25, and Steve Mack (real name Steven Stacovik) , 23, had police records that went back a few years, though there was nothing to indicate an affiliation with Capone or any other known mobster. Ryan was much too talkative; it's doubtful any big-time outfit would trust him.

All three of the men captured, especially Harvey "Big Harry" Sulton, expressed admiration of "Little Harry" Romer [Ronan], and correctly predicted he would never be caught.

Ryan's assessment of his gang as "three lousy tramps" was more accurate than Syracuse Police Chief Cadin and the Syracuse Journal would admit. The three men remained behind bars awaiting trial. Despite early claims that they had lawyers, they would wind up having Onondaga County attorneys assigned to them. One of those lawyers was Daniel F. Mathews, who at various times was the town of Geddes attorney, the village of Solvay attorney and the village police justice.

Mathews and other attorneys didn't get involved in the case until November, after the three men had been indicted for assault, first degree, with intent to kill. Their trial began on November 16. By then the men had been in Jamesville Penitentiary for five months.

The Wolf Hollow case, which began with one of the wildest chases and manhunts in local history, ended quietly when the three Chicago bad boys were found guilty of assault, second degree, which lessened their punishment.

Mack, the sullen, photographer-hating member of the group, was born Steven Stacovik. He was convicted of burglary in 1926 in Chicago, convicted of the same offense two years later in Detroit, and finally sent to the federal penitentiary in Leavenworth for violation of the Dyer act covering interstate transportation of stolen cars. He had served terms in Illinois and Michigan prisons, as well as in a Michigan reformatory for juvenile criminals.

Ryan, known as James Good in Philadelphia, served time in California for burglary, in Chicago for contributing to the delinquency of minors, and was held in Philadelphia for suspicion of highway robbery and unlawful possession of liquor.

Harvey "Big Harry" Sulton had no previous record. As for Harry Ronan, after his escape it was as if he never existed.

On November 21,Ryan and Mack were given 10 years each on the assault charge, an additional five to ten years for using a gun. Sulton was given a term of two and one-half to five years on the assault charge, and five to 10 years on the gun count.

Four days later, on Thanksgiving Eve, Judge William L. Barnum, perhaps in a festive mood, reduced their sentences. The newspaper article said the judge trimmed them by five years, but didn't explain how this decision would impact Sulton's sentence on the assault charge.

I found no mention of whatever became of the Chicago gangsters afterward. But on the afternoon of June 6, 1931, they put on quite a show. Had that chase and manhunt been part of a movie, most people probably would have laughed it off, thinking real people — including the doggedly determined Trooper Crouse — don't behave so recklessly.

The three gangsters who were captured that day were both annoyed and awed by the trooper's persistence. I don't know whatever happened to Ertman Crouse, except I did find evidence that 21 years later he was still on the job. Well, after the Wolf Hollow adventure, I guess things must have gotten easier.

POSTSCRIPT: Author Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews died August 2, 1936, after a month's illness. She was 76. Three days later her 78-year-old husband, retired judge William Shankland Andrews, was killed in a freak accident after he fell out of bed while reaching for a glass of milk on a nearby night table. In the fall his head was doubled under his body, breaking his neck.

A newspaper story said it was Mr. and Mrs. Andrews who gave the area its name after they built their estate in what at the time was considered a remote section of Onondaga County. Mrs. Andrew explained that in pioneer days the area was the habitat of a wolf pack.

I seem to recall a "Wolf Hollow" sign at the intersection of Onondaga Boulevard and Onondaga Road (Route 173). In the 1950s that intersection looked as though it belonged many miles away, perhaps at the entrance to the Adirondack region. The sign may be gone, but nowadays there is a street off Onondaga Boulevard called Wolf Hollow Road. I wonder how many of its residents know anything about what happened that day in 1931.