PLUNGE TO DEATH

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23061, 11 June 1938, Page 2 (Supplement)

PLUNGE TO DEATH

BEAUTIFUL TYPIST GIRL WHO AIDED POLICE GANG VENGEANCE SUSPECTED QNLY a few days after she had defied night-club bandits and saved a policeman in a gun battle, Norma de Marco, beautiful 22-year-old typist, plunged to her death from the 12th. storey of a skyscraper in New York's Bohemia. Police and G-men are following up a theory that her death was tha vengeance of the gangsters —that they drugged her in return for the part she played in helping the police. The last few days of the girl's life held a sequence of rapid events that led up to tragedy. Popular in the famous Greenwich Village artists' colony, her name sprang into the headlines following a hold-up in the "Howdy' night-club. Three bandits entered the club one night, whipped out their guns, and commanded customers to put up their hands. But Norma refused point-blank. One of the gunmen hit her over the head with the butt of his revolver and she crashed to the floor. There she lay, seemingly unconscious—but she was only feigning. Pitched Battle

Police officers rushed in, and guns spat bullets as a pitched battle ensued. Through half-closed eyes Norma uaw the man who had hit her bend down to pick up a revolver, apparently intending to shoot Constable James Gibbons in the back.

Quickly Norma jumped to her feet and kicked away the gun, at the same time yelling to the. unsuspecting officer. The battle was soon over. One by one the bandits were shot down. A day or two later Norma, her head still in plaster, returned to Greenwich Village. The publicity had almost died down. She thought the incident was closed. But in Greenwich Village she and her great friend, Dorothy Lam air, got into conversation with two strangers, who invited them to a party where refreshments were served. About midnight the two girls had returned to Dorothy Lamarr's flat. "My Eyes ... My Eyesl" Lt is not quite clear what happened there, but Norma suddenly stood up and screamed: "My eyes, my eyes. . . . They are bulging. . . . I'm losing my head ! She began to pull at her clothes. Miss Lamarr, beside herself with fear for her friend, rushed to the bathroom to prepare a cold bath. When she returned to the lounge Norma had stepped to the french window, high above the street. Miss Lumarr rushed to her—but she was too late. Norma raised her arms, threw back her head, and fell headlong to the street below.