Police sketch artist put victims at ease

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John L. Holmes described his job in 1992: “You have to be a good listener.”

Updated: February 28, 2012 8:06AM

John L. Holmes saw people on the worst days of their lives.

Victims of rape, robbery, kidnapping and attempted murder consulted with the Chicago Police sketch artist at the same time that shock, grief and fear were clouding their memories and their belief in a just world.

Mr. Holmes would rise to greet them. And rise. And rise.

An imposing 6 feet 2 and 220 pounds of muscle, the officer could make strong men whimper when he shook hands.

But he soothed victims with an innate gentility and a smile warm as sunlight. He produced 200 to 300 composites a year — many of them uncanny likenesses of suspects — with his pencil, pad and rapport.

“He would have people come in who had someone try to rob them, or someone tried to grab girls and take them in the car,” said Deborah Moran, an administrative assistant with the Chicago Police Department. The victims were often teary and frightened, she said. “He was a big guy, but he was a like a teddy bear,” Moran said. “He had fruit there on his desk, and he’d say ‘Would you like an apple? Would you like something to drink?’ ’’

Eventually the victims would relax and travel inward, going deep into their memories for Mr. Holmes to unearth images of the person who attacked them.

“It was amazing when they would catch people,” said retired Chicago Police Sgt. Ernest Harris. “The sketch [Mr.] Holmes had made with conversations from witnesses, it was like the [suspect] was sitting in front of him.”

Mr. Holmes was called in to draw composites in the investigation of serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, when police were still searching for an elusive stranger seen with young men who had disappeared in Chicago and Milwaukee.

Mr. Holmes, 79, of South Holland, died Jan. 7 at Kindred Healthcare in Hammond. He suffered from pulmonary fibrosis.

He was only 4 or so when he asked his mother to send in his Bambi sketch to a comic book offer of an art kit.

“They sent him that free drawing kit, and that kept him motivated,” said his son, John.

Mr. Holmes graduated from Farren grade school and Englewood High. He studied at Woodrow Wilson Junior College and Chicago Teachers College, and for a time he taught at DuSable High School, said his partner, Sandra “Sandy” Saddler. Mr. Holmes also took courses at the School of the Art Institute, she said.

But art school was not nearly as important as empathy, he told the Chicago Sun-Times in a 1992 interview. “You have to be a good listener,” he said. “The quality of that drawing comes from the information given by that witness. They paint the picture.”

He worked as a police officer before becoming a sketch artist. That’s where he first exhibited an “I got this” attitude that made people feel they were in good hands, friends said.

At the request of Howard Saffold — one of the founders of the city’s Afro-American Patrolmen’s League — Mr. Holmes created a lapel pin for the security detail for Mayor Harold Washington.

As he neared his 1993 retirement, he discussed the “cases you don’t forget.” There was the man who described the kidnapper of his 2-year-old stepdaughter while staring at Mr. Holmes the whole time. When the session ended, “I had almost drawn myself,” Holmes said.

But soon after, the child’s mother confessed that the kidnapping story was a lie. The stepfather had beaten the baby to death for wetting the bed.

Later, Mr. Holmes worked at the Cook County Sheriff’s Department and at Chicago State University.

A lover of spicy food, Mr. Holmes was always on the lookout for tongue-singeing hot sauces, Saddler said, and, “He could bake a good ham.”

He had a 300-piece owl collection with figurines, umbrella stands, napkin holders, pens and pins. He loved to support emerging jazz artists, but was absolutely finished with Miles Davis, she said. When Mr. Holmes went to a show featuring the mercurial legend, “John said he paid his money to see that man,” Saddler said, “and he walked off the stage.”

Mr. Holmes also is survived by his daughters Valencia Galloway and Jeanine Holmes; his brother, Thomas; six grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren.

A memorial is planned.