LOVING MOM OR KILLER? MIMI ROHRER CASE PUZZLES FRIENDS

Author: ANN W. O'NEILL, Daily News Staff Writer

Maryanne "Mimi" Mungello was 18 years old, a former high school cheerleader, when a death provided the introduction to William G. Rohrer - a prosperous, married 50-year-old South Jersey businessman and political leader.

She had traveled to New Jersey from her hometown of Burgettstown, Pa., a Pittsburgh suburb, in 1960 for the funeral of a former neighbor she says was ''in love" with William Rohrer, the first and only mayor of Haddon Township.

Eventually, she became Rohrer's mistress, and in 1973 she married him, Mimi Rohrer said in a series of interviews with the Daily News.

Now, another death nine years ago may have destroyed the stormy, 24-year relationship.

Mimi Rohrer, 43, is on trial in Camden Superior Court on charges of murdering the couple's adopted son, Billy, 2 1/2, in 1975, "through a pattern of child abuse." Her husband is paying more than $250,000 to a defense attorney she doesn't want and has not been permitted to attend the trial because he is a potential prosecution witness.

Mimi Rohrer, after leaving her trial and traveling to Washington and Philadelphia three weeks ago, is being held without bail at the women's annex of the Camden County Jail, as testimony continues.

She said in the interviews that the pending court proceedings had put a strain on her marriage. Her husband, 74, moved out of their Westmont home about two weeks before the trial began and is living in a rented apartment on Cuthbert Boulevard - across the street from the bank he founded in the early 1950s, the First People's Bank of New Jersey.

On the walls of Mimi Rohrer's now-empty house, a rambling brick colonial built into a hillside overlooking the Cooper River, hang enough photographs to fill a gallery.

Pictures of adopted daughter Laura Rohrer, 11, and the happy faces of the children of friends and relatives clutter the walls of almost every room - even a bathroom.

And there are photo albums for the snapshots and portraits that won't fit on the walls.

One album bears the title, "Children I have taken care of." Inside are dozens of photos of the babies of friends and relatives. But on the last page there is a blank white space, the word "Billie" written over it.

The photographs give mute testimony to a woman's lifelong involvement with children, but they don't explain the dark and brutal acts that the prosecutor, Assistant Attorney General Anthony Zarillo, alleges took place in that house between mid-February and late May 1975.

That is the paradox of Mimi Rohrer, a woman who says she "always tried to be a pretty good mother," but stands accused of battering - even biting - the child who was to be her husband's only son and namesake.

Zarillo told the jury in his opening statement that medical experts would testify that injuries found on Billy Rohrer's body offered a classic example of "the battered child syndrome." Defense attorney Raymond M. Brown told the jury he would counter those accusations with evidence the child was hyperactive and self-destructive.

Those who know William Rohrer describe him as a portly, politically powerful man who is known for his public generosity and private reticence. Repeated efforts to contact him have been unsuccessful.

Mimi Rohrer, 31 years younger than her husband, is recalled for her flair for the dramatic and dual interests in children and theater.

They were colorful dressers, said a former bank employee, who asked not to be identified. He showed a fondness for paisley jackets, mismatched suits and handpainted ties. She favored youthful clothes, tight slacks and shoes with stiletto heels. She often came into the bank clutching a tiny poodle under her arm, and would deposit the dog on a secretary's desk.

A former resident of Haddon Township during the early days of William Rohrer's three decades as mayor remembers him as "a benevolent dictator," a generous man.

"If anyone in town had a problem - whether they were a garbage man or someone in government or business - he would pull out a checkbook and that would be the end of the problem," the former resident said.

Both Bill and Mimi Rohrer had a fondness for children, but they showed it in different ways, friends say. He provided well for his four daughters from a previous marriage. When one of the daughters married, Rohrer - then owner of the local Chevrolet dealership - gave the couple matching his-and-her Corvettes, an acquaintance said.

He set up a college scholarship foundation for local youths, and contributed heavily to various charities. Each year, he gave more than 100 college students summer jobs at the bank, and hosted annual dinner parties at the Cherry Hill Inn for his summer help.

Mimi Rohrer's interest in children was more personal and more direct. She would not hesitate to allow a child to climb into her lap, and she never raised her voice, say friends and acquaintances who find it difficult to believe the charges against her.

She filled the house in Westmont with children, often baby-sitting for the children of friends and relatives for days at a time, even after she was indicted in December 1982 and charged with the murder of her son. She was involved in local theater, and continued to produce youth talent shows and revues, until just before her trial began.

John Nero, owner of the Woodbine Inn in Pennsauken, said in an interview that she produced a Sunday night musical revue, billed as a showcase for local youth talent. The production, called Mimi Rohrer's Young Entertainers, involved about 15 children ages 6 to 17 and ran for about 18 months, ending last year.

"It was like she was a mother to them. She acted like they were her own kids . . . You can talk to anybody here - we have 170 employees - and nobody could ever say she abused a child. She never lifted a hand or said a harsh word."

Nero described William Rohrer as an old-style, small-town banker and "the greatest charity man in the county."

"I did a lot of banking with Mr. Rohrer. He was a very compassionate person," Nero said. "Hundreds, thousands of business people in Camden County would not be in business if it wasn't for Mr. Rohrer. He'd bring them into his bank, and sit down with them and talk. That was how he judged people. Today, if you go in to borrow money, they have a computer. Mr. Rohrer treated everybody as an individual."

The Rohrers' fortunes began to change for the worse in 1982.

The Federal Deposit Insurance Corp. ordered First People's Bank to revamp its loan practices, replace top management and declare $69 million in delinquent loans and more than $18 million in operating losses. Rohrer subsequently was replaced as president of the bank he founded, although he still holds the title of chairman of the board.

In December 1982, Mimi Rohrer was indicted and charged with murder amid reports that the 1975 investigation had covered up her son's death because of the Rohrers' prominence. Nonetheless, Rohrer was re-elected last year as mayor, a position he has held since 1951.

In December 1982, Mimi Rohrer was indicted and charged with murder amid reports that the 1975 investigation covered up her son's death because of the Rohrers' prominence. Nonetheless, Rohrer was re-elected last year as mayor, a position he has held since 1951.

 "His romance began with a proposal of marriage, but he was already married," Mimi Rohrer said, recalling how William Rohrer "pursued" her for a year after they met at the funeral. "He was 50 when I met him. Why he liked me, I don't know."

After that first meeting, she said, Rohrer's letters to her were initially addressed "Dear Friend," and then "Sweetie." Then came "the little romantic gifts."

"He didn't overwhelm me with his money. He came after me like a man," she said.

The relationship continued on and off for 13 years. During that time, Mimi attended college at Pennsylvania State University and George Washington University, and earned a master's degree in theater and production at Temple University.

"I wanted to have kids. I was going to grad school to bide my time," she said. "I was really in love, really physically in love with him . . . I was always trying to get pregnant."

She moved in with Rohrer in 1967, when they rented an apartment in a Haddon Township high-rise that overlooked Rohrer's bank. His divorce from his first wife, Floretta, became final in 1969.

Bill and Mimi Rohrer were married in a small civil ceremony in Maryland in 1973. In 1974, they bought a four-bedroom house at 730 S. Park Drive, in the Westmont section of Haddon Township.

"After Mimi's marriage to Mr. Rohrer, she found herself very lonesome," Lois Peters, her mother, wrote in a letter to Nino V. Tinari, the Philadelphia lawyer Mimi Rohrer wants to replace the attorney hired by her husband. "Mr. Rohrer was hardly ever at home, being gone all day and late into the evening. She had wanted children of her own and had applied for adoption."

The Rohrers were turned down by New Jersey state adoption officials, and they learned they could more easily adopt abandoned children in El Salvador. They traveled to the capital city, San Salvador, in late January 1975 and, after William Rohrer used some political clout to cut red tape, got expedited visas and adoption papers for a boy, 2 1/2, and a girl, 2. They named the boy William III, and called him Billy. The girl was named Laura Lisa.

Recalls Mimi Rohrer: "We went down for a boy and the place was closing. It was a halfway house for abandoned orphans, called Pro Amora Y Futuro, in Sultana Province on the outskirts of the San Salvador city limits. We went there at 2 p.m. and we were back by 5. We had no history, no names, no ages."

At the home, Rohrer said, "Billy was the only kid who didn't have his arms held out to me. He would try to run away. I have no idea what Billy went through before I got him . . . ."

When the Rohrers returned to New Jersey, Billy "took spells," Mimi Rohrer says. She says she suspects he was "hyperactive" and dismisses bruises found on the boy's body as "just kid's bruises.

"It was an empty river, that little boy. He was empty, he needed so much love . . . . There were times when I couldn't reach him . . . . I worried about him."

Prosecution witnesses have testified, however, that Mimi Rohrer once violently struck Billy in the head because he had shown affection to a stranger, and punished him by making him stand outside in the rain because he would not say he loved her and would not properly ask to come in.

A child psychiatrist testified he found the boy "sweet and normal," but said his mother showed signs of mental disturbance.

Dr. Elliott Gursky said Rohrer perceived the child as "a bad seed" and believed he was "hypersexual" and "had shown sexual interest in her." He suggested Billy be placed in foster care. The boy was placed for two or three days with another family, but then the Rohrers took him back.

Mimi Rohrer, in the interviews with the Daily News, maintained she was ''ecstatic and very protective and happy," after adopting Billy and Laura Lisa. "I had a house. I had two beautiful kids."

The happy scene painted by Mimi Rohrer was short-lived, however. Billy died on May 25, 1975 - just three months after William and Mimi Rohrer adopted him.

On that morning, she said, she brought Billy into the kitchen and placed him in a high chair next to his father. William Rohrer was eating cereal and reading a newspaper, she recalled. She went to the sink, and Billy "swooned over." She said she and her husband "thought he was playing dead. He did that sometimes. You have to think of it as a little boy's games."

She first asked her husband to pick up the boy; when he refused, she picked him up from the high chair, laid him in front of his father, and went upstairs ''for five minutes" to tend to the other child.

When she returned, she said, she saw a trickle of blood coming from the boy's nose, and summoned an ambulance.

Asked how Billy Rohrer died, his mother said in a low voice, "I don't know."