Floyd Sheets Davenport Iowa Boy Bandit

Floyd Sheets

 A lone bandit robbed the Handy Grocery Store on the corner of Rockingham Road and Fairmount Street in Davenport on February 5, 1913.

 

Clyde Jager said Ernest Dalldorf saw a boy shivering in the cold and snow, so he unlocked the door and invited him in to get warm. As soon as he walked in, the youth stuck a gun in Dalldorf’s face and told them to “throw up their hands.”

 

The bandit pushed them up against the counter and rifled their pockets. Then, he pointed to the cash register and asked Dalldorf what was in there.

 

Dalldorf walked over to the register with one hand in the air, pretending to open it. Then he tossed a bread case at the robber, lunged across the counter, and tried to wrestle the gun away from him.

 

The robber got off three shots. One struck Dalldorf in the heart, another severed an artery in his shoulder, and the third shot went wild, crashing into a wall.

John Dalldorf, the store’s owner, rushed upfront at the sound of the shots. He saw his son lying dead on the floor as the robber fled out the door. John was sure Floyd Sheets was the killer; he’d seen the boy lurking around the store the past two or three days.

 

The following day, William Adams realized he knew who the killer was.

 

He had bumped into his old friend, Floyd Sheets, at a restaurant in Davenport’s west end the week before. One minute, they were catching up on school days. The next, Sheets asked if he’d read about the Schuetzen Park streetcar holdup.

 

“Yeah, I have read about it,” said Adams.

 

“The fellow that did that job had a lot of nerve, didn’t he?”

 

Without waiting for him to answer, Sheets said he pulled that job. “When we get through eating, I’ll show you the place where I hid after the job.”

 

Adams didn’t give it much thought, figuring it was all talk. That changed when they met up again at a Rock Island saloon the following week.

 

“You don’t believe that I held up that streetcar, do you?” asked Sheets.

 

“Well, I should say not,” said Adams. “You must be hitting the pipe, ain’t you?”

 

“Oh, all right,” said Sheets. “But let me tell you something. Tonight, I’m going to hold up the Handy Store. If there is any resistance, someone is going to be filled with lead. So, watch tomorrow evening’s papers if you think I’m kidding.”

 

Packey Phelan

Then, Sheets reached into his pocket and pulled out a tobacco pouch filled with .38 caliber shells.

 

“These are the tools I work with. If they don’t come across with the money when I stick ‘em up, I shoot.”

 

Adams walked away, shaking his head, wondering what drugs his old friend was taking. Whatever doubts he had disappeared the following day when he read about Ernest Dalldorf being shot to death in a robbery at the Handy Store.

 

“I think I know who did it,” he told his mother. Then William explained everything. His meeting with his friend and Floyd Sheets’s threat to kill anyone who didn’t cooperate. He was scared, but his mom said he had to tell, so William told his story to attorney A. J. Hanley. Hanley passed the information to County Attorney Fred Vollmer.

 

Dennis Sheets, Floyd Sheets’ father, stopped at the police station and talked to Chief Schramm at about that same time. He was worried. His son was acting strangely and hadn’t been home for the last week or so. Then, he found bloodstains on a pile of hay in the barn where his son often slept.

 

Sheets said they tossed the boy out of the house a few weeks before. Then, not long after that, he broke in and stole $35. He wasn’t sure, but maybe Floyd pulled the robbery at the Handy Store.

 

He believed his son was hiding out in Rock Island.

Based on that information, Detective Packey Phelan began his search in Rock Island. He quickly learned that Floyd Sheets was staying at the Schmidt Hotel on Seventeenth Street.

 

Detective C. J. Meehan spotted Sheets and Pat McAnaa at the corner of Nineteenth Street and Second Avenue in Rock Island. When they saw him coming, the boys took off in opposite directions.

Meehan caught up with Sheets a block away and dragged him to the police station for questioning.

 

“I know what you want me for,” said Sheets. “It’s me for Anamosa or the rope, ain’t it?”

 

“Why? What have you done?” Phelan played dumb, giving the boy ample room to hang himself.

 

“Oh, you can’t fool me. I know you got the goods on me, Phelan. You can’t make me think you’re after me for some petty offense.”

 

Sheets confessed to everything on the ride back to Davenport.

 

He was drunk when he pulled the job at Dalldorf’s store. When he walked in, “he suddenly thought how easy the robbery would be.” He “tied a handkerchief over his face and pulled out his revolver.”

 

The streetcar robbery was the first job he had done. He piled ties on the track to stop the car.

 

“Those fellows were easy. They surely were scared when I shoved my gun in their faces. They lined up against the wall like little men and didn’t budge while I went through their pockets.”

 

He ran away as quickly as he could afterward. The cops must have passed his hiding space a half-dozen times, but never saw him.

 

There was another guy with him when he robbed Chris Volquardsen. He couldn’t remember his name, but they got away with about $140. He headed out for Chicago after that and robbed a couple of restaurants just for the fun of it. But, again, he wasn’t sure. He got maybe $60 at one and $15 at the other.

 

Sheets had been back in Davenport about ten days when he robbed the Handy Store. He’d been drinking and wasn’t sure how he got there.

 

“I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember what happened. I guess I must have fired those shots, alright. Don’t remember anything about it. I got away with $20. I didn’t know Dalldorf was dead until I saw the papers the next day.”

 

Finally, he told the detectives, “You never would have got me tonight if it had not been for a bottle of booze. I took a chance and left the hotel, and before I got back, I was grabbed.”