Private detective Leonard C.M. Johnson had a career that could fill countless crime thrillers. Working the streets of Chicago since 1919, he was at the peak of his career when World War II began. He would use his talents as a naval intelligence officer. Assigned to Chicago’s Navy Pier, he kept a diary which survived the war — holding lost secrets.
WARNING: this blog post contains reference to sexual assault, along with discrimination against gay sailors, in the U.S. Navy in World War II. Entries from a naval intelligence officer’s private diary describing such cases are reproduced, with the names of persons involved redacted.
From dark trench coat to Navy blues
Rise of a Chicago private eye
Born on February 3, 1896, to Norwegian immigrants Gustav and Gertie, Leonard Cyrus Martin Johnson grew up on Chicago’s northwest side. A graduate of Carl Schurz High School, class of 1913, he briefly attended Bryant and Stratton Business College from 1914 to 1915.1 This education was enough to help land him his first major white collar job.
Leonard joined the Pinkerton Detective Agency either in 1913 or 1916, depending on the source.2 He started out in the office filing reports and delivering documents. Grinding his way up, he became a Special Investigator in 1919 and soon after had his first major case — a “shadow job.”
As he recounted to a Chicago Tribune reporter in 1948, Leonard assisted a more senior investigator. Earlier in the year, $250,000 in bonds went missing from the Studebaker Corporation of South Bend, Indiana. Worth $10,000 each, the company received the bonds by registered mail but mysteriously, they vanished. Did the young receptionist clerk who signed for the parcel do it? Was it an inside job? Investigators suspected the latter and patiently waited for the culprits to make a mistake. A list of the missing bonds’ serial numbers went to banks all across the country.
Eight months later came the break that everyone had waited for. One of the bonds turned up at a bank in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and a new suspect became identified. His surveillance fell to Leonard and his partner.
The job lasted for weeks. At one point when they were about to lose their man, Leonard had to act quickly. He hopped onto the back of the suspect’s car and hung onto the spare tire — like in a scene out of a movie. Ultimately, the two Pinkertons managed to identify the culprits in the case, which indeed was an inside job.3
Off to a good start, the investigator’s career flourished in the Roaring Twenties. From one agency to the next, he made a name for himself in Chicago, making influential friends along the way.
A career built on the streets
In 1923, Leonard left Pinkerton for the William J. Burns International Detective Agency. Within two years, he rose from lowly operative to Manager of the Criminal Department. Then in 1925 came another opportunity. He found a place in the National Association of Credit Men where he investigated bankruptcy and mail fraud cases. Assigned to the northern district of Indiana, Hammond Division, he had close ties to federal officials: the U.S. District Attorney’s office, Special Agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Chicago office, and Post Office Inspectors.
He eventually went into business for himself and established his own office in 1931. Later in life, he, along with several friends, started an investigative agency in the late 1950s but by 1966, Leonard had enough and left the field.
At the time of his death in 1987, it was reported that Leonard’s investigations filled three filing cabinets full of reports.4. By his own admission, however, most cases were dull.
Reflecting back on his longtime career, 82-year-old Leonard had this to say:5
Most of the time it was 18 hours a day, seven days a week of freezing my tail off as I watched some house or followed some person. Hell, there were exciting cases, but there wasn’t the glamor you see in the movies.
Leonard’s civilian career did have a disruption — World War II.
The military swept up the detective, like millions of other Americans, using him for the duration of the war. In his case, he volunteered for service, eyeing an officer’s commission as early as 1940. He would also remain a reserve officer long after the war.
The Navy needs private investigators
The Navy learned several lessons from its experience in World War I. When it came to intelligence officers, for example, having reliable personnel at the ready was better than scrambling to find them at the start of a war. Thus, in 1925, the Office of Naval Intelligence established the Naval Intelligence Volunteer Service. As a cadre of reserve officers, the service sought out specialists from a wide range of fields.
Ideal applicants included police and investigators, lawyers, and linguists. They would undergo several weeks of military training, return to civilian life and, when needed, assist the Navy — without pay. Their official designation was Intelligence Volunteer (Specialist), I-V (S). The Navy called them to active duty after December 1941, with most officers serving in the continental U.S. in naval District Intelligence Offices (DIOs). Duties included carrying out investigations, counterintelligence, security, counter-sabotage, and censorship.6
Leonard applied for his I-V (S) commission on June 7, 1940. He did so through the Ninth Naval District headquartered at Great Lakes Naval Station. His application contained five endorsements, with one from former Assistant U.S. Attorney Edward J. Hess, describing Leonard as “thoroughly reliable and honest.” Amongst his unique specialties, Leonard listed wiretapping, dictagraph work, and taking moving pictures.
Despite glowing endorsements and extensive experience, several obstacles stood in his way.
Physically, a medical board of examination found him unfit for sea duty. At 5’3″, the investigator fell short of the navy’s minimum height requirement by 2.5″. In addition, he lacked several teeth, for which he wore dentures. He was also overage and lacked enough formal education to be an officer.
Still, a man of his talents was too valuable to pass up. Especially in a time of war. The Commandant of the Ninth Naval District pushed for Leonard and recommended that his defects be waived, a request that the Navy granted in March 1942. A month later, Leonard commissioned as a Lieutenant, Junior Grade, in the Naval Reserve. He would finally don a dark blue uniform.
It took months to train up for the role. After successfully completing several courses and then specialized training in Washington D.C., Leonard returned to Chicago. He reported to the DIO, Ninth Naval District, which in August 1943, gave him an assignment: Naval Training School Navy Pier.
On the job at Chicago’s Navy Pier
A bustling naval training school in Chicago
When Lieutenant I-V(S) Leonard C.M. Johnson arrived at Navy Pier, he found a bustling city of sailors and marines.
Built in 1916, Chicago’s Municipal Pier, later renamed Navy Pier, opened up as a commercial dock and convention center. Not long after, the Navy requisitioned it during World War I, which they would do again two decades later.
In World War II, the pier was home to a massive Naval Air Technical Training Center. It welcomed its first contingent of personnel, 184 sailors and 75 marines, on October 15, 1941. Initially, the facility schooled airplane mechanics and metalsmiths, with the total population of military personnel expected to reach 10,000 by mid-1942. To accommodate these men, the navy built 2,102 triple decks beds.7
Naval operations at the facility expanded as the war went on. Other schools opened up at the pier, including one for cooks and bakers. Then on August 22, 1942, the newly converted aircraft carrier USS Wolverine arrived from Buffalo, New York. The Wolverine, along with the USS Sable that arrived later, allowed aviation cadets at Naval Air Station Glenview to qualify for aircraft operations in touch-and-go landings.
Another type of naval vessel that tied up alongside Navy Pier was an aircraft carrier’s arch foe: the submarine. From 1942 to 1945, the Manitowoc Shipbuilding Company of Manitowoc, Wisconsin, built twenty-eight Balao class submarines. These vessels used the inland waterways to reach the Gulf of Mexico. They would dock at Navy Pier and wait for tugboats, which towed them up the Chicago River and Chicago Ship & Sanitary Canal, well past Chicago. At Lockport, the submarines slipped into floating drydocks and continued on their way.
Click here to read more about Manitowoc’s 28 submarines!
Tens of thousands of U.S. and Allied personnel passed through Navy Pier until its military operations ceased in 1946.
Needless to say, Leonard had no shortage of activity in his assignment. As Station Intelligence Officer he oversaw all intelligence activities at the base. To record his going-ons, he kept a “War Log,” a diary — a diary. Whether or not he had one for 1943 is unknown, but his for the period of January 1, 1944, to July 1, 1946, has survived.
The war log entries are brief and minimal. Nonetheless, they tell the unknown story of law and order at Navy Pier.
Sailors behaving badly
Fraud occurred in several ways. Fraudulent enlistments, for example, happened quite often during World War II when enlistees lied about their age, medical conditions, or other qualifications. One notable case was Audie Murphy, who joined the Army underage and ultimately received the Medal of Honor. Although many fraudulently enlisted servicemen managed to complete their contracts, the military still went after perpetrators.
Another type of fraud was passing bad checks. Of which, along with fraudulent enlistments, were plentiful at Navy Pier. Bad checks could be in the amount of $100s.
Theft was a common occurrence on military posts. In one week alone, from January 21 to 28, 1944, Leonard interacted with at least twelve servicemen connected to thefts. One of the accused received a summary court-martial which resulted in a bad conduct discharge.
The types of goods stolen at Navy Pier included automobiles, clothing, diamond rings, lighters, and wristwatches. No matter the sum of value, Johnson investigated the matter and, if possible, returned the stolen property to its owners.
Sexual assault did unfortunately happen. Leonard recorded four explicitly stated cases of rape and two of indecent exposure in his diary. He dedicated much time to investigating reports received by his office. In one rape case in September 1944, he spent over ten days investigating the matter and located the accused sailors at Great Lakes Naval Station — the outcome is unknown. Another investigation in February 1945 lasted seven days.
Homicide involving servicemen in World War II was rare but did happen in Chicago. In late 1944, Leonard participated in the Navy Board of Inquiry in the death of Chief Omar A. Kelly. The chief, 27, was an athletic instructor for the V-12 Navy College Training Program at Perdue University. On the evening of August 3, 1944, he and his brother were at the Tudor Tap, at 933 E. 43rd Street on Chicago’s South Side, when a fight broke out. The tavern owner’s son shot Omar five times, who later died. He claimed self-defense and alleged that Omar assaulted him during an argument — corroborated by nine witnesses.8
Investigating homosexuals in the Navy
Another duty of Leonard’s was the investigation of gays in the Navy. Such cases explicitly appear five times in his diary and involve seven individuals. A couple of the men may have been witnesses or accusers, but this is impossible to determine. Leonard uses the terms “homosexual” and “homo” in his entries.
There was no shortage of gay sailors at Navy Pier. Although a handful became exposed, many more flew under the radar of Lt. Johnson. The war brought millions of men and women together, most of them young, from all walks of life. With the future uncertain, the inhibitions of soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen relaxed and romances blossomed.
And already Chicago had an underground gay scene, which only exploded in wartime. Several gay bars, catering to both men and women, opened up in the 1930s and operated in areas including the Near North and Near South Sides.
One sailor who avoided detection was writer Frank M. Robinson. At Navy Pier for about eight months late in the war, assigned to electronics school, Robinson recalled that Chicago was “a great town for liberty — the best music town in the country. Pickups were easy, and those who wanted to get laid had no trouble finding companionship.” When regaling his own weekend exploits to buddies, Robinson had to lie.9
At that time, a sailor exposed as gay received an undesirable discharge — a very recent form of consequence.
Not long before, up until 1943, the military had a hardline approach to dealing with homosexuals. If caught in the act, a serviceman faced a charge of sodomy and trial by court-martial. Such activity was considered a disciplinary problem with offenders sent to a military prison.
Attitudes shifted as the war dragged on. Gradually an alliance between reform-minded psychiatrists and military officials overhauled policy. In January 1943, the War Department reversed its previous hardline 1941 “Sodomists” directive, and the Navy Department issued its first explicit policy on homosexuals. Now, what contemporaries believed to be more humane, psychiatrists diagnosed servicemen and women and, in turn, informed disposition boards. Nonviolent offenders received an undesirable discharge.10
Actual procedures differed between departments. In the Army, an offender could potentially be “reclaimed” and return to duty. The Navy offered no possibility. Sailors either signed a statement accepting an undesirable discharge, resignation for officers, or face court-martial.
Undesirable discharges were also known after the color of paper they were printed on, blue. Besides gay men and lesbians, others discharged under this category included many African Americans — the largest group of recipients.
Such a classification was a black mark that followed veterans, making it difficult to find work in civilian life.
NOTE: the wartime diary of Leonard C.M. Johnson recording his work at Naval Training School Navy Pier, along with his military identification badge, are in the private collection of the author of StoriesThroughKeepsakes.com.
Sources
- Although Johnson told Chicago Tribune reporters later in life that he grew up in Hyde Park, official census records from 1900 and 1910, along with the education information he provided the military in 1940, show otherwise.
- Johnson’s application to the Naval Reserve states that he joined the Pinkerton Detective Agency in 1913, but a later Chicago Tribune article reports this date as 1916. “Need a Chinese divorce lawyer?” in Chicago Tribune, October 22, 1978, p.43. Retrieved from: https://www.newspapers.com/image/385403272/ (accessed October 8, 2025).
- Lloyd Wendt, Shadows Seldom Sleep, in Chicago Tribune, November 14, 1948, p.8. Retrieved from: https://www.newspapers.com/image/370034752/ (accessed October 10, 2025).
- Kenan Heise, “Leonard Johnson, 91, private eye in Chicago,” in Chicago Tribune, July 10, 1987, p.10. Retrieved from: https://www.newspapers.com/image/388888949/ (accessed October 8, 2025).
- “Need a Chinese divorce lawyer?” in Chicago Tribune, p.43.
- Read Admiral Tom Brooks, U.S. Navy (Retired), “The Naval Intelligence Officer – Revolutionary War Through the End of the Cold War: Tracing the development of the Naval Intelligence (163X) and Air Intelligence (135X) Communities and their integration” [article], published on Naval Intelligence Professionals. Retrieved from: https://www.navintpro.org/professional-articles/2021/10/28/the-naval-intellig ence-officer-%E2%80%93-revolutionary-war-through-the-end-of-the-cold-war/ (accessed Februrary 11, 2026).
- Thomas Morrow, “Navy Turns Pier into Complete City for 10,000,” in Chicago Daily Tribune, October 16, 1941, p.8. Retrieved from: https://www.newspapers.com/image/371752527/ (accessed November 16, 2025).
- “Bar Slaying Justifiable, Coroner’s Jury Decides,” in Chicago Daily Tribune, September 7, 1944, p.18. Retrieved from: https://www.newspapers.com/image/370375940/ (accessed December 11, 2025).
- Frank M. Robinson, Not So Good a Gay Man: A Memoir (New York: Tor Books, 2017), p.16.
- For a thorough history of the reform movement to change the military’s homosexual policies during the war, see Allan Bérubé, “Chapter 5: the Fight for Reform,” in Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War II (Chapel Hill: the University of North Carolina Press, 1990), pp.128-148.
Very well-written and extremely interesting. I only knew of Navy Pier as a college for GIs after WWII. It is nice to have some background on the history of Navy Pier and its importance during the war. Thanks, Arthur!
Hi Patty. Thank you! There hasn’t been much published on the WWII history of Navy Pier and when there is, it is often a brief overview.