While much of the recent drama at the State House has focused on budgets, taxes, and immigration, there was a time when the biggest story under the golden dome was a good old fashioned whodunnit. Former state representative Josh Cutler has written a book chronicling two centuries of State House history. Below is an excerpt on a dramatic theft that occurred 92 years ago this week that once captured the public’s attention. 

“Steal all the Cabots, if you must, but spare our cods––in cods we trust!” 

April 26, 1933: Posing as tourists, the thieves entered the State House late in the afternoon and headed for the fourth-floor gallery overlooking the House chamber. Two of the men wore white saddle sport shoes and one carried an unusually long flower box under his arm that appeared to be filled with Easter lilies. One of the men was at least six-feet tall with curly brown hair and a polo coat and another was described as short and portly. A fourth man waited outside in an automobile. 

The House adjourned its regular business for the day at 5:18 p.m. and the men hid behind seats in the gallery while legislators, clerks, and staff filed out of the room below. When the coast was clear, the men reached high over the railing and cut two threads of metal wire that held an historic ornamental fish made of pine wood––better known as the Sacred Cod. 

The nearly five-foot long replica painted in silver signified the importance of the fishing industry to Massachusetts and had hung in the chamber since 1895. The tradition dated back even longer and earlier versions of the wooden codfish were on display in the Old State House well before the American Revolution. 

A committee tasked with reporting on the history of the “sacred emblem” in the late nineteenth century described the symbol in solemn terms:  

“Let us take it in reverence and honor, and place it on high as one of the proudest decorations of this great hall; and let it remain there so long as this State House shall stand, a memorial of the Pilgrim, his privations and simplicity; an emblem significant of the hardiness, courage and faith of those who dare and defy the seas, and daily telling of the great and surpassing glories of Massachusetts and her sons.” 

After cutting it down the thieves carefully stowed the wooden fish in the long flower box. Bits of greenery fell out in the process and were later discovered on the House gallery floor along with a torn envelope. Once the Sacred Cod was hidden away, the men surreptitiously exited through the adjoining press gallery and made their way back downstairs. 

The thieves had scoped out the building the day before and studied the routines of the court officers and doorkeepers to facilitate their getaway. It was about six o’clock in the evening and the sun was just setting on Beacon Hill when they furtively exited the building via a side entrance by Ashburton Street. 

The theft was discovered by a watchful guard later that evening around eight o’clock and the State Police were quickly notified, along with the sergeant-at-arms and building superintendent. Police detectives inspected the gallery and scrutinized the walls and railings for fingerprints. A systematic search of the entire building was also conducted. Few leads were found. 

The theft of the Sacred Cod quickly captured the public’s attention and sparked numerous offers to help. Officials in Barnstable County held an emergency meeting and wired a message to the governor offering to loan their own sacred Cape Cod codfish to the Legislature until the Commonwealth’s “immortal and sacred” codfish was recovered. 

Plenty of anonymous tips, fishy rumors, and red herrings also flooded in. One lead took police north of Boston to the city of Lynn, where a Boston University student was mistakenly suspected of involvement. Another tipster claimed that the fish was being spirited away to New York by airplane, which led to one unlucky college student being deplaned, questioned, and searched by police until it was discovered he was the victim of a practical joke.  

Police also conducted a search along the banks of the Charles River, mistakenly believing that the thieves might have intended to return the cod to its natural habitat. Another fishy report claimed that the Sacred Cod could be found in a five-foot box in the basement of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. When a search was conducted a box was indeed found but it contained only an unfortunate minnow. 

Some leads did pan out. Police were able to track down a florist in Cambridge who remembered selling a large flower box to a young man matching eyewitness accounts. The lead also matched up with the evidence of laurel sprigs discovered in the gallery. 

The trail of suspicion quickly led back to Harvard Square. It was well known that students at The Harvard Crimson and the rival Harvard Lampoon often committed elaborate pranks. Accusations quickly flew between the two feuding student publications, accompanied by threats of expulsion from the college administration. At one point the Crimson claimed to have evidence of the Lampooner’s liability and threatened to expose those involved if the fish was not promptly returned. 

Thomas Bligh, the lead police detective on the case, shared the belief that Harvard students were to blame for confiscating the cod. “It’s probably the Lampoon boys,” he told the Boston press. “They think it’s a prank. But it’s not. It’s serious.” 

Two days after the theft, with pressure and accusations growing, a mysterious phone call was placed to Harvard Yard Police Captain Charles Apted around ten o’clock in the evening. “I was asked if I was interested in the Sacred Cod,” he recounted. “I said I was.” 

Apted was given instructions on where to meet and that evening he drove to the rendezvous near the Chestnut Hill Reservoir. On arrival he spotted a car, described as a “roadster,” with two men inside and no rear license plate. He approached, but the vehicle sped away along the darkened road.  

Apted drove in pursuit for about twenty-five minutes until the roadster finally stopped on a side road. One of the men exited wearing a mask and unceremoniously handed over the five-foot cod. Before Apted could commit any details of the encounter to his memory, the man had returned to his car and sped away. 

With the fish recovered, Apted immediately notified Detective Bligh and drove to his office later that evening to deliver the prized possession. By the following morning the Sacred Cod was back at the State House under the watchful care of the building superintendent. A few touch ups were necessary to fix three damaged fins but otherwise the cod was returned in good condition. 

Later that morning the sacred symbol was restored to its rightful location in the House chamber, except this time it was hung a foot higher so as to prevent any future “codnapping” attempts. 

Though Harvard Lampoon student editors were widely blamed for the theft, State Police decided not to press forward with any charges once the fish was safely returned. The Sacred Cod story drew national attention and was featured on the front page of Boston newspapers for three straight days. 

While ample prose was devoted to the case, the cod caper was also conveyed in poetry, including by one unidentified author: 

Appeal for return of a Sacred Cod 
“O shameless man,
O cruel thief! 
Return our cod, 
And ease our grief! 

Oh, Massachusetts
There she stands 
So pleadingly 
With outstretched hands. 

O, steal the Lowells, 
If you wish, 
But spare, O, spare 
Our sacred fish. 

Steal all the Cabots, 
If you must, 
But spare our cods – 
In cods we trust!” 

Josh Cutler, a former Democratic state representative from Duxbury, is the author of Under the Golden Dome: Historic Talks and Tales from the Massachusetts State House.

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