The Laundry Man Cometh! A 1950s Chicago Love Triangle

This is not a shocking true crime story, although one of the participants in this true story was certainly shocked.

You've heard the old joke: Man comes home from work in the 1930s. His wife is not in the living room or the kitchen, so he yells up the stairs to the bedroom. "Honey, has the ice man come yet?"

A male voice answers: "Give me a break, buddy. I just got here."

Okay that was a joke. This story reminded me of the joke. It is a tale that was inspired by a newspaper article I read while doing research for one of my true crime books: Murder! Molly And The Mob: A Shocking (1950s) Shocking True Crime Story.

And now, the story that I call, The Laundry Man Cometh!

It’s October 1957. Everyone’s singing “Honeycomb” with Jimmie Rodgers on their radios. Some are going to see one of the best movies of the year, “12 Angry Men.”

And, Ray Dombeck, a thirty-one-year-old Chicago resident, walked into his house at 1620 North Claremont Ave. to find a note from his wife on the kitchen table.

Yeah, it was a “Dear Ray” letter. Thirty-one-year-old Edna had taken pen to paper to announce she was leaving her old man. 

That was last Friday. What a hell of a way to end the work week.

Then, the next day, Ray got a letter from Edna telling him to “see Charlotte at 858 North Paulina.”

What the hell? Saturday. His day off. And his life is going to get worse?

Well, Ray walked over to see Charlotte, and the two of them put their heads together.

Charlotte told Ray that, like Edna, her husband, Tony, who worked as a pickup man for a dry cleaner’s shop, left her a note Friday saying he was leaving her. 

Just like Edna, Ray thought as he scratched his head.

Charlotte leaned back in her kitchen table chair, fired up another Lucky Strike, and, as she inhaled, pushed a ledger book toward Ray.

Charlotte kept the books for her husband’s business. And this one showed his daily schedule.

Charlotte reached over and, with her finger, pointed to one address that showed up every single day. Tap. Tap. Tap her fingertip went on the ledger pages.

1620 N. Claremont. Every day. Day after day.

“That’s where I live. Me and Edna,” Ray whispered. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“Yeah,” said Charlotte. She ground the cigarette out in the green glass ashtray on her kitchen table like the Lucky owed her money.

Charlotte squinted at Ray through the smoke she’d just exhaled.

“Now you know why your clothes were always so clean.”

True story. I kid you not.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading.

Rod