Two men in suits in animated conversation black and white photo
This United Press photo shows two of the main characters in the sensational trial of 1954: Attorney Paul Herbert, former Lieutenant Governor of Ohio, and his client, defendant Max Sternbaum. Credit: United Press International

70th anniversary of Sternbaum Trial

Today is Part III of a four-part series on the Dec. 4, 1952 murder of Leah Sternbaum and the ensuing trial of her husband Max, which began in February, 1954, in Richland County Common Pleas Court.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is Part III of a four-part series. Part I published on Feb. 26. Part II published on Feb. 27. Part IV publishes on Feb. 29.

MANSFIELD — Carl Sternbaum died at the age of 65 on March 3, 1954. The next day his son Max, who was facing the electric chair after being charged with first-degree murder in the death of his wife, was found not guilty of the capital crime.

It was a whirlwind of emotional events for a family that seemed the polar opposite of controversial from the time the Sternbaums arrived in Mansfield in 1917.

Carl Sternbaum was a Mansfield grocery store magnate (founder of Sternbaum’s Complete Food Mart). He was the beloved benefactor of the community who donated the land to build the Friendly House.

Sternbaum’s Complete Food Mart was a growing local grocery store chain with mutlple shops in Mansfield at the time of the case in the early 1950s.

Carl’s family was just short of royalty, especially after youngest son Jacob died as a war hero while flying a mission over India in World War II.

That any of Carl’s children would be tied to a vicious crime was hard for the community to absorb.

Yet Max was the center of attention in Richland County Common Pleas Court 70 years ago this week.

There was a consensus only on the nature of the crime.

Pretty little Leah Rose Sternbaum, 31, who stood around 5-foot and weighed all of 110 pounds, was cracked over the head five times with a wrench and her dying body charred by a fire set apparently to cover the crime.

In the immediate wake of the crime, the Sternbaum family posted a $1,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the killer.

About a week after the murder, with little progress in the case, the Sternbaums employed a private detective from the Pinkerton Agency based in Cleveland. The Pinkertons began their own investigation — and not necessarily in lockstep with local authorities.

Then, just shy of a year after the murder, a Richland County grand jury returned a first-degree murder indictment against Leah’s husband, Max.

Ohio Lt. Gov. Paul Herbert was Max Sternbaum’s defense attorney, and would go on to become an Ohio Supreme Court Justice in 1962.

Later, with Max facing the death penalty, the Sternbaums again spared no expense in hiring perhaps the best defense attorney in the state.

Former Ohio Lt. Governor Paul Herbert was brought in to join local attorney Marshall Moore in defending Max.

Herbert was a heavy hitter and would go on to become an Ohio Supreme Court Justice in 1962.

Media coverage was overwhelming.

The Mansfield News Journal printed the names and addresses of all 150 prospective jurors in the pool, and continued to do so until the 12-person and one alternate panel was seated.

It was exactly this kind of news coverage the Cleveland Plain Dealer was villified for in the Sam Sheppard case, that erupted just four months after Max Sternbaum’s acquittal.

In fact, in 1966 the U.S. Supreme Court set aside Sheppard’s conviction in a landmark ruling that found the original trial was tainted by prejudicial pre-trial publicity. Sheppard was granted a retrial, and was eventually acquitted, too.

Max Sternbaum would need no such court intervention.

The trial began on Feb. 10, and spanned nearly four weeks. It played before a packed crowd who took each of the 67 seats available in the tiny courtroom.

Some stood in line for up to three hours before the courthouse opened, despite frigid winter temperatures. The group then raced upstairs to gain one of the precious seats available for an audience.

Though this photo was taken six years before the 1954 trial, it shows how limited the seating was for spectators at well-attended proceedings in the Richland County courthouse. Aside from the battles of legal wits that one might expect in a highly publicized court case, reporters at the 1954 trial also made special note of the scuffles that took place in the audience when people fought over chairs.

On Feb. 17, the rush to get into the courtroom was so furious one of two doors was ripped off its hinges.

Richland County Common Pleas Court Judge G.E. Kalbfleisch was exasperated by the mob.

“This is not some kind of a sideshow to a circus,” Kalbfleisch said, while threatening to clear the courtroom. “The court will not indulge in these outbursts again.”

In his 11-minute opening statement, Prosecutor Theodore Lutz said the motive was simple.

“It was elimination of the wife so that (Max) might take another woman,” Lutz said.

The prosecutor was referring to Margaret Rozenman. She was “The Mystery Woman” noted by the News Journal in grand jury testimony and again when she appeared in court.

Rozenman was described as Leah Sternbaum’s best friend, as well as a relative (Leah’s younger sister was the wife of Sam Rozenman, Margaret Rozenman’s brother).

Max met Margaret when he was married to Leah in 1944, but became much closer to her when the families congregated in Toledo to observe the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashana, Sept. 19 to 21, 1952.

The prosecution said that was the beginning of a torrid affair.

A number of receipts were produced from jewelers, florists, hotels and appliance centers, all gifts from Max to Rozenman, a divorcee who was going by her maiden name. Multiple witnesses in Tiffin, Cleveland, Columbus and Marion put the two together in various locations.

Shortly after a dinner in Fremont, Max allegedly sent Rozenman a book, The Prophet. According to Rozenman, inside was a small card that read, “My friend will show you many pleasant hours if you will let him.”

“There was a proposal,” Lutz declared. “Plans of marriage were entered into so far as to discuss rings and homes and custody of his children and other matters relating to his and her future.”

This was the front page of the Feb. 19, 1954 Mansfield News Journal. (Courtesy of the microfilm at the John Sherman Room of the Mansfield Richland County Public Library.)

Lutz insisted there was also talk between the Sternbaum couple of a divorce the weekend prior to Leah’s murder.

In a 33-minute rebuttal, Herbert said violence was “repugnant to Max, a man of integrity and honesty.”

He stated that Max was the victim of a woman scorned. The defense denied there was a marraige proposal and indeed insisted the Sternbaum couple was “generally happy.”

The state’s case began with the introduction of a blackened monkey wrench, put forward as the alleged murder weapon. It was discovered after the fire on the desk of Sternbaum’s employee Vivian Howard.

The 18-year-old Howard worked in the office and testified there was no such wrench on her desk when she left the office the night before the fire erupted just after midnight.

The involvement of the Pinkerton Agency led to the prosecution team calling private investigator Avery Heron to the stand. Heron testified that 12 days after the murder he interviewed Max Sternbaum at the Leland Hotel and was told the “marriage was strained.”

The two points of contention were described as Max’s interest in learning to fly, and supervision of the children. Their disagreements reached a climax the weekend before the murder when the Sternbaumbs sat down to have a serious discussion about divorce, Heron said.

However, the Pinkerton detective said they seemed to settle their differences when it was agreed Max would be allowed to fly if Leah could have access to a new car. The car was purchased and in fact Leah drove it to the scene of her murder.

Further, Heron stated that Max Sternbaum told him “he’d been running around since he’d been married and his morals were ‘a little loose.’ “

On Feb. 17, Harry Shriver, who lived on the second floor of the Vale Avenue structure and would’ve been sleeping directly over the murder scene, testified that on the night of the fire he was awakened by a scuffling noise. He said it sounded like someone pulling something backwards across the floor.

Neighbors testified to seeing a darkened office when Max was supposed to be working (hence the lights should’ve been on). Some said they heard a woman screaming and loud noises as if someone was arguing.

On Feb. 19, testimony began involving “The Other Woman.”

On March 27, 1953, a woman named Margaret Distil (later identified as Margaret Rozenman using her married name) was treated for a miscarraige in Madison Hospital.

Dr. G.F. Markle testified Margaret would’ve become pregnant in December of 1952, or January 1953, just days or weeks after Leah’s death. Max Sternbaum paid for her treatment and instructed an envelope with $1,000 be given to her upon her release.

The defense cross examined Rozenman, who said she had burned Max’s correspondence to her on June 7, 1953, after receiving a subpoena from the state fire marshal’s office. Rozenman also stated she lied during that questioning while trying to protext Max.

Merlin Mitton, an investigator for the state fire marshal’s office, confirmed that Rozenman told him “two or three different stories.”

The star defense witness was Max Sternbaum himself.

Max denied he and Leah were experiencing marital strife, and insisted the previous six weeks before his wife’s death were perhaps the happiest of their married lives.

He said when they discussed divorce, it was always in jest.

Housekeeper Louise A. Sarchet testified that two weeks before the murder Max came home from the office and announced, “Leah, the time has come for me when I’m going to step out with other women.”

Sarchet said Leah replied, “Max, whenever that time comes just let me know.”

Sarchet also testified that she found $57 jammed into Leah’s purse after the crime. In addition, she later saw Max take the cash out of that purse.

Remember, Max said the robbers got about $60 from his wallet on the night in question.

As for “The Other Woman,” Max conceded he was friends with Rozenman but denied ever intending to marry her and said they never had sex.

In fact, it wasn’t Rozenman that Sternbaum was now interested in, but her former roommate, Lillian “Terry” Weisblat.

This, Sternbaum’s lawyers argued, was the reason Rozenman had come forward with incriminating testimony against Max. She was now a jilted woman.

Dr. P.M.A. Bien then testified that he did not believe Max’s head wounds from the night of the fire were self-inflicted.

Finally, Max had his own theory of the crime.

He figured Leah walked in on the robbers and recognized them, that’s why she was killed, as they were bent on silencing a witness who saw their faces.

“That’s the only reasoning I can get out of the whole thing,” Max said. “Why in the hell would somebody clip her?”

On March 3, just before Max was cross-examined by Lutz, the defendant’s father Carl died of a stroke.

Max had been allowed to visit his comatose father, accompanied by deputies, just hours before his death. Then he faced Lutz’s intense cross examination.

Despite the pressure and his sorrow, the defendant was described as composed, and forceful.

When Lutz showed Max photos of Leah’s body on the stand, Sternbaum called the prosecutor “a brute.”

The jury certainly had a lot of unanswered quesetions.

Why hadn’t neighbors seen a light on when Max said he was working?

How did Max know his wife was in the building when neighbors came to his aid?

What about all those receipts for gifts, dinners, flowers, jewelry, motels and medical bills that went to Rozenman?

It was all circumstantial and seemingly compelling evidence, and it certainly didn’t look good. But it wasn’t physical evidence that Max had killed Leah, either.

Finally, the jury got the case on Thursday morning, March 4, 1954. After 12 hours and 57 minutes, at 10:49 p.m., they made their decision.

Judge Kalbfleisch read the verdict at 11:14 p.m. “Not guilty.”

A nervous Max broke down in sobs.

Someone from the audience shouted “It’s too bad your father couldn’t have been here to hear this.”

Max replied, “That’s the way I feel.”

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