Jack the Strangler.

(New York Journal, March 18, 1898.)

When the news of London’s 1888 Whitechapel Murders, attributed to “Jack the Ripper,” crossed the Atlantic, Americans were instantly fascinated. The vision of a dark, elusive killer, mutilating women without motive, was morbidly titillating, and the name Jack the Ripper fired the popular imagination. In the nascent age of yellow journalism, no one was more fascinated by Jack the Ripper than newspaper reporters who began seeing Ripper-like murders everywhere they looked.

Sensational murder reporting had been a staple of American newspapers since the 1830s, and multiple murderers (serial killers) were active in America throughout the 19^th-century. But the fear of deranged killers roaming the streets and killing at random was something new. Journalists instinctively saw the value of linking murders to a single killer, and they invariably attributed groups of unsolved murders to some local version of Jack. 

Butchered and Burned.

National Police Gazette, January 28, 1882

Mrs. J.W. Gibbons was away from her home in Ashland, Kentucky, on December 23, 1881. She left behind her 18-year-old son Robert, her 14-year-old daughter Fannie, and 17-year-old Emma Thomas (aka Carico), who was staying with them. Mrs. Gibbons returned the following day to find her home burned to the ground and all three inhabitants dead.

Read the full story here: The Ashland Outrage.

Sororcide.

The Murder of Lizzie Anderson

Josie Fay was standing at the corner of Bowker and Sudbury Streets in Boston’s West End, on the evening of January 19, 1880. Stella Vannell approached her and asked if she had seen Ida King. Josie pointed down Bowker Street, where Ida stood talking with a young man named Michael Tolan. Stella walked up to the couple, called out to Ida, and began making disparaging remarks about Tolan. The women exchanged angry words, and the argument escalated until, in a flash, Stella drew a large clasp-knife and plunged it into Ida’s breast. Both women were drunk at the time of the incident, and both were using assumed names. In fact, they were sisters, Maggie and Lizzie Anderson.

A Murder on Ice.

A group of young boys from Lambertville, New Jersey, went skating on Island Creek on December 15, 1880. They brought their lunches and, when they sat down to eat, they built a fire on the ice to keep warm. John Pierman, an older boy (age reported variously as 15, 16, or 18) with another group, came upon them and started kicking the burning wood around the ice. Theodore Parker, aged 13 or 14, told Pierman to stop. An argument ensued and words led to blows. When Parker struck Pierman in the face, breaking his pipe, Pierman pulled out a knife and plunged it into Parker’s left breast, piercing his heart.

Who Killed Carrie Farrel?

Mrs. Carrie Farrel left her home in Sibley, Iowa, at 7:00 a.m. on May 6, 1889. She went on horseback to visit her parents, who lived about two miles away. When she didn’t return that night, her husband thought nothing strange of her absence. It was not unusual for Carrie to spend the night with her parents. But when her horse returned home riderless the following morning, her husband became alarmed and began searching for her.

Adolph and Lizzie.

(National Police Gazette, November 20, 1881.)

After less than two years of marriage in Iowa City, Iowa, Lizzie Stein filed for divorce from her husband, Adolph. She was tired of Adolph’s abuse, but he said that he would not live without Lizzie. When the divorce became final, on November 4, 1881, Adolph slashed and stabbed Lizzie, then he poisoned himself with belladonna.

 “The horror of the deed threw a chill over the entire city, and the remembrance of it will not pass away for many years,” said the Chicago Tribune.

Read the full story here: A Day of Blood.

Charles and Hugh.

Charles Arthur Preller and Hugh Mottram Brooks
(Illustrated Police News, April 25 & May 2, 1885)

Charles Arthur Preller and Hugh Mottram Brooks (alias Walter Maxwell) met in Liverpool, England, in January 1885, and traveled together by steamship to Boston. During the voyage, they began an amorous relationship. When the ship landed in America, they went separate ways but agreed to meet later in St. Louis.

They booked separate rooms at the Southern Hotel in St. Louis, but it was well known by the staff that both men were sleeping in Brooks’s room. On April 6, 1885, Brooks checked out, telling the hotel that Preller was traveling on business and would return for his luggage. 

On April 30, after guests reported a foul smell, the manager found Charles Preller’s corpse decomposing inside a trunk. The manhunt that followed ended with the arrest of Hugh Brooks in Auckland, New Zealand. 

Read the full story here: The St. Louis Trunk Tragedy.

Scenes from the Cronin Murder.

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, June 8, 1889.

Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin was a prominent Chicago physician and a member of Clan-na-Gael, an American political organization formed to promote Irish independence from British rule.  He publicly accused the Executive Board of Clan-na-Gael of embezzling funds. On May 4, 1889, Dr. Cronin disappeared. Eighteen days later, his naked body was found wedged inside a catch basin. He had been stabbed to death with an icepick.

Read the full story here: Clan-na-Gael and the Murder of Dr. Cronin.

Butchery in Baltimore.

Captain McGregor of the No. 8 Engine Company on Fifth Street in Baltimore saw a woman come out of the house across the street and collapse on the pavement on the afternoon of January 8, 1889. He ran to the woman and found her covered with blood.

“Ida did this,” she told him. She said, in German, that her servant, Ida Kessel, had demanded money from her and, upon being refused, assaulted her. She swooned and said no more. Captain McGregor sent for the police, who took her to City Hospital.

The woman, 65-year-old, Margaret Schneider, had been severely hacked with twenty-two gashes to her face, throat, and hands. Her left ear was mashed, and the front of her skull was crushed. During the afternoon, she had periods of semi-consciousness but was never lucid enough to provide any more information than what she gave Captain McGregor. She died at 8:30 that evening.

Mrs. Schneider lived on Fifth Street with her daughter and grandson, both of whom had been in Philadelphia that week. Their servant, Ida Kessel, had only been with them since the previous Thursday, and they believed she had been stealing silverware.

There was confusion early on as to the identity of the killer. The family knew her as Ida Kessel, but her real name was Kunegunde Betz. Mrs. Schneider’s daughter, Susan Leahr, gave the police a detailed description: 30 years old, five feet seven inches tall, with broad shoulders, jet black hair, high cheekbones, and dark brown, deep-set eyes. She spoke only German.

Two policemen saw her board a streetcar on January 10, and they jumped on the front platform.

The driver said, “Have you arrested yet the woman you fellows are looking for?”

“No,” said Officer Khatz, “but I will do so now.”

He walked over to the woman and politely asked her to accompany him. She refused, and when he put his hand on her shoulder, she jumped up and tried to flee. Officer Krouse grabbed her before she could escape, and they took her to the Eastern Police Station.

Kunegunde Betz, alias Ida Kessel, spoke only German and was questioned through an interpreter. She claimed that she was in the kitchen when a black man jumped over the fence and entered the house. He choked her and asked where the old woman was. She told him upstairs, and when he went to find her, Kunegunde gathered her clothes and left. When Detective Seibold asked her if the black man spoke German, she said no, but she understood what he said.

The police were aware of the house on Fifth Street even before the murder. Neighbors had been suspicious and reported that the house was quiet during the day but lit up all night, with people coming and going at all hours. When the police went inside, they found evidence of a brutal struggle, with blood on the walls and floor, and a trail of blood where the victim had been dragged. The rest of the house, however, was scrupulously clean. While the house looked plain from the outside, it was magnificently furnished within. The bedrooms looked like bridal chambers, upholstered in different colors. In a second-floor back room, the police found a complete opium layout. They also found a bundle of letters addressed to Mrs. Shneider—some making appointments or reserving rooms, others due bills for wine, etc. It was a house of ill-fame and Mrs. Schnieder was a procuress, providing women, wine, and opium for the “club men” who visited.

The police found a hatchet, which they believed to be the murder weapon. They also found a dress saturated with blood. The killer took it off and changed clothes before fleeing.

Kunegunde Betz was indicted for first-degree murder, but her trial was postponed when it was discovered that she was pregnant. She had the baby in prison and carried it in her arms when she stood trial the following December. Her attorneys argued that she could not get a fair trial in Baltimore, and were granted a change of venue to Towson, Maryland.

The prosecution presented a straightforward case of Betz assaulting and killing Margaret Schnieder when she refused to give her money. However, they could not directly connect her to the hatchet or the bloody dress.

The defense argued that Mrs. Schneider kept a house of ill-fame where any number of persons had access and could have committed the crime. The attorney also wanted to read the incriminating letters in court. The defense objected strenuously to both. The judge, after hearing from both sides and reading the letters himself, ruled that before entering testimony on the character of the house, the defense had to prove that it was customary for keepers of houses of ill-fame to allow visitors to have keys to the house. The letters, he said, offered such meager light on the subject that it was better not to read them in court.

After three days of testimony, the case was given to the jury, who found Kunegunde Betz guilty of manslaughter. She was sentenced to six years in the State Penitentiary.

---

Sources: 

“"Ida Did This.",” Omaha Daily Herald, January 9, 1889.
“Arrested for Mrs. Schneider's Murder,” Trenton Times, January 10, 1889.
“Brained with a Hatchet,” Illustrated Police News, January 26, 1889.
“Cleverly Captured,” Sun, January 10, 1889.
“Convicted of Manslaughter,” Sunday Telegram, February 16, 1890.
“For Murdering Her Employer,” New-York Tribune., January 10, 1889.
“Forecast of Baltimore and Vicinity,” Sun, February 25, 1895.
“In the Courts,” Sun, June 3, 1889.
“Kunigunda on Trial,” Sun, February 13, 1890.
“Mrs. Schneider's Murder,” sun., January 10, 1889.
“News of the Day,” Alexandria gazette., January 9, 1889.
“Noted Murder Cases,” Sun, December 4, 1889.
“Was Mrs. Schneider Killed With a Hatchet?,” Sun, January 17, 1889.
“A Woman without Fear,” Sun, February 14, 1890.

Emma and George.

Emma Malloy and George E. Graham
Illustrated Police News, April 17, 1886 & May 15, 1886.

Famous Evangelist, temperance leader, author, and publisher Emma Molloy opened her home to the lost and lonely, much as others would take in stray cats. She had an adopted daughter, two foster daughters, and she found a job at her newspaper for George Graham, an ex-convict she had met while preaching at a prison. They all lived happily together on Emma's farm in Missouri. 

But George Graham was having sexual relations with both Emma and her foster daughter, Cora Lee. His decision to marry Cora without divorcing his current wife resulted in a murder, a lynching, and a scandal for the entire family.

Read the full story here: The Graham Tragedy.

The Demon Druses.

 "The verdict of the coroner’s jury charges that Mrs. Druse shot her husband with a revolver, struck him with an axe upon the head, and severed his head from his body, causing instantaneous death. That Roxalana Druse afterward cut up and burned the body. Mary J. Druse, George W. S. Druse, and Frank Gates are charged with being feloniously present and abetting the said Roxalana Druse in committing the murder."

--"The Demon Druses", Illustrated Police News, February 14, 1885.

Read the full story here: The Druse Butchery.

Lust and Lead.

Around 1:30 a.m. on February 5, 1881, police were summoned to 109 Poplar Street in St. Louis to investigate gunshots. Inside, they found a scene of bloody carnage. At the top of a staircase, a woman lay on her back, the blood from three gunshot wounds slowly dripping down the steps. Sprawled across the bottom steps in a pool of blood lay the corpse of a man with a single wound to the head. It was a murder-suicide. 

The victims were Xavier and Aglae Wilhelm (no relation to the author), who were married in France sixteen years earlier, when she was 16 and he was 25. The age difference was a problem from the beginning; Aglae liked to flirt, and Xavier was profoundly jealous.

They emigrated to America and ended up in St. Louis. Aglae had some money, and they used it to open a coffee restaurant and ice cream parlor. They were raising two children, but business was bad, and Xavier and Aglae were constantly quarreling. Aglae couldn’t take it anymore, and in 1880, she took the children back to France.

Xavier followed soon after and persuaded her to return to St. Louis. They left the children in France and came back to the city with a new business plan. They purchased the two-story building on Poplar Street, opened a saloon on the first floor, and a brothel on the second floor. 

Sometime later, Xavier returned to Paris to recruit new blood for their house of ill-fame. He secured three young girls by telling them they would work as domestics in a fine hotel, for fabulous wages. The authorities in France got wind of his scheme and managed to rescue two of the girls. He returned to St. Louis with one.

During his absence, Xavier put his bartender, Jean Morrel, in charge of the saloon. Upon his return, Xavier began to suspect that Morrel had taken charge of his wife as well. The old jealousies returned, and he swore out a warrant charging his wife and her paramour with adultery. On February 5, the case came before a judge who dismissed it for want of evidence. Racked with jealousy and devoid of hope, Xavier put an end to their problems with four gunshots.

The coroner’s inquest returned the only possible conclusion: 

Verdict: Aglae Wilhelm came to her death from the effects of bullets fired from a revolver at the hand of her husband, Xavier Wilhelm, deceased at 109 Poplar Street. 

Verdict: Xavier Wilhelm, suicide by gunshot wound.

Morbid fascination with the crime was so strong in St. Louis that people visited the scene of the crime all day to gaze upon the place where blood had been shed. Crowds gathered at the morgue, though the bodies were covered and kept behind closed doors. 

Public fascination with the crime was matched by utter disdain in the press for both Xavier and Aglae. The Memphis Daily Appeal called it A “fitting end to a bad pair.” The St. Louis Post-Dispatch said: 

Mr. Wilhelm is to be congratulated upon his success. As a rule, the blackguards who murder women are so exhausted by the manly exercise that they miserably fail when they attempt to do a good turn in the same line for themselves.

---

Sources: 

“Bathed in Blood,” St. Louis Globe-Democrat, February 5, 1881.
“The Bloody End,” The Cincinnati Enquirer, February 6, 1881.
“Fitting End of a Bad Pair,” Memphis Daily Appeal, February 6, 1881.
“Lust and Lead,” St. Louis Globe-Democrat, February 6, 1881.
“News Article,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 5, 1881.
“The Wilhelm Horror in St. Louis,” Illustrated Police News, February 26, 1881.

"Your Time has Come!"

 

--"'Your Time has Come'", Illustrated Police News, December 8, 1883.

Thomas Barrows was found dead in his home in Kittery, Maine, on November 14, 1883.  He was lying in his bed with six bullet wounds in his arms, legs, and head. His wife, Mary, told the coroner that Thomas had committed suicide. The coroner was faced with two immediate mysteries: if Thomas Barrows had committed suicide, why did he wound himself five times before firing the shot to the head that killed him? And how had he shot himself six times with the five-barreled revolver found near the bed?

In fact, his wife, Mary, persuaded her son-in-law, Oscar Blaney, to murder her husband. Blaney ambushed Barrows by the barn, shot him four times, and fled. But Barrows was not dead. Mary brought Blaney back to finish the job. found Barrows sitting on the side of his bed, groaning.

“Oscar, I guess I will go soon,” said Barrows.

“Yes, your time has come now,” Blaney said and fired two more shots.

Read the full story here: The Kittery Crime.

The East Liverpool Borgia.

Daniel Van Fossen and his wife hosted a dinner party for their extended family on January 8, 1885, at their home in East Liverpool, Ohio. Fourteen people were in attendance, including members of the Van Fossen, McBane, and Collins families. Coffee and Tea were served after the meal, and almost immediately, the coffee drinkers complained of a burning, bitter sensation in their throats. Soon, they all became violently ill with symptoms of arsenic poisoning. Around midnight that night, six-year-old Allie McBane died after suffering great agony. Soon after, Ann Collins, Mrs. Van Fossen’s 85-year-old mother, succumbed.

Eleven people who drank coffee became ill, while three who drank tea remained unaffected. An examination of the coffee pot revealed a package of “Rough on Rats,” a popular brand of rat poison, at the bottom of the pot. Daniel’s 19-year-old daughter, Annie Van Fossen, was suspected of intentionally poisoning the group. She had prepared the meal and the coffee, and although she drank some coffee, she was not as ill as the rest of the party.

Annie Van Fossen was a bit unstable. She was addicted to laudanum, and three times in the past two years, she had taken so much that she needed her stomach pumped. Some believed these were suicide attempts.

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reported a strange trip Annie took two weeks before the poisoning. She went to Bellaire, Ohio, where she met some young men, “without the formality of an introduction.” She told them that on Saturday, her mother had given her $5 to buy groceries, but she didn’t want to stay at home. She slipped down to the Cleveland & Pittsburgh depot and traveled to Bellaire with a brakeman. She remained until Sunday evening, then went to Wheeling ostensibly to see a sister. She returned to Bellaire on Christmas night in company with a drug clerk from Wheeling. They were both drunk and remained out overnight. She told the Bellaire boys that she “was not going home as long as she could keep on the turf.” After the poisoning, they spoke to the press out of fear that they would be somehow connected to the affair.

When Annie Van Fossen was arrested and charged with first-degree murder, she denied committing the crime. The press quickly turned on her, accusing her of malice and calling her “The Coffee Poisoner” and “The East Liverpool Borgia.” After waiving a preliminary hearing and pleading not guilty, Annie was remanded to the county jail in New Lisbon, Ohio, to await trial.

She spent five months in jail, but her cell was quite comfortable on the second floor across from the sheriff’s sitting room. The cell was carpeted and furnished by her friends and appeared more like a parlor than the cell of a murderess.

She was free to associate with the male prisoners and became quite attached to George Hunter, one of the inmates. Hunter was also awaiting trial for murder; he was accused of killing his sweetheart, Gertie Phillips. Annie’s friendship with Hunter blossomed into romance, and the couple vowed to wed if both were acquitted.

The murder trial of Annie Van Fossen began on June 15, 1865, and lasted a week. More than sixty witnesses were summoned. Annie testified that the “Rough on Rats” had accidentally fallen into the coffee pot without her knowledge. The jury accepted her defense and found her not guilty, though many believed her beauty and graceful figure had also worked in her favor.

George Hunter was ecstatic when he learned of Annie’s acquittal. However, he was found guilty of second-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison. Sadly, the wedding never took place.

---

Sources: 

“Annie Van Fossen,” The Dayton Herald, February 10, 1885.
“Annie Van Fossen Acquitted,” The Sun, June 22, 1885.
“Annie Von Vossen's Trip,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, January 14, 1885.
“East Liverpool Briefs,” The Saturday Review, January 17, 1885.
“A Girl Saved from the Gallows,” The Sentinel, June 23, 1885.
“A Girl's Awful Malice,” Morning Journal and Courier., January 10, 1885.
“Miss Annie Van Fossen, the East Liverpool O, Borgia,” Illustrated Police News, January 24, 1885.
“The Murder of Gertie Phillips,” Stark County Democrat, April 2, 1885.
“Pleaded Not Guilty,” Grand Rapids Eagle, January 12, 1885.
“Telegraphic Sparks,” Plain Dealer, January 9, 1885.
“Two of the Victims of the Poisoning Dead,” Canton Daily Repository., January 12, 1885.
“The Van Fossen Poisoning,” Illinois State Journal., January 12, 1885.

A Horrible Butchery.

Three teenage boys made a shocking discovery in Philadelphia’s East Fairmont Park on December 26, 1888. They were in a secluded area near the reservoir where the Water Department stored pipes. Sitting atop a large steel pipe, one of the boys noticed two coarse gunny sacks inside the three-foot mouth of a nearby pipe. He thought they contained the clothes of a tramp. Another boy took a pocketknife and cut a hole in one of the bags, large enough to see that they contained the remains of a human body. Horrified, they ran to inform the clerk at the reservoir office. 

The police arrived with a patrol wagon and took the bags to the station house. They opened them and found that one bag contained a man’s legs, and the other contained his trunk and head. His hands were tied across his breast with a stout cord. He was wearing three shirts, but his legs were unclothed. The head was crushed as if by a blow from an axe or sharp-cornered club. The left leg had been severed near the trunk with a knife, and the bone sawn through. The right leg was similar, but the bone was partly sawn, then broken.

Beside the body was a page from the Philadelphia Record, dated December 6. On the lower margin was written, “Kohler Kelab, Hoboken Hotel.”  The face was covered with clotted blood, but when washed, the features were plain and apparently those of a light-complexioned man about 30 years old. Chief of Detectives Wood stated that the man had been murdered within the last 48 hours, somewhere near where the body was found.

The discovery caused great excitement in Philadelphia, with the population as anxious as the police to identify the body. The Hoboken clue brought Mrs. Kohler, proprietress of the Hoboken Hotel, to Philadelphia to look at the body. She positively identified the man as a Mr. Kreutzman, who had stopped at the Hotel on December 3 and then left for New York City. Despite the identification, the police continued their investigation.

Antoine Schilling had been missing since Christmas Day, and one of his friends thought a picture in the newspaper resembled Antoine. Six of his friends, including Susan Schroop, the daughter of Schilling’s landlord and business partner, Jacob Schroop,  went to view the body. They all identified the dead man as Antoine Schilling. 

The police visited the home of Jacob Schroop, four miles from where the body was found. They asked what had become of Antoine Schilling, and Schroop said, “I don’t know, he left here Monday night.” In the cellar of the house, police found a bloody axe and saw, as well as evidence that the floor had been cleaned and scrubbed. The police took Jacob to the stationhouse and put his wife and daughter under surveillance. 

Schroop was extremely nervous, and he collapsed on the steps of the stationhouse. He was helped inside, where he denied any knowledge of the murder.

Antoine Schilling boarded with the Schroop family, which consisted of Jacob Schroop, his wife Wilhelmina, and Susan, daughter from a previous marriage. Schilling, 24, and Schroop, 49, were business partners. They ran a small grocery and provisions store, but business was not going well. Early speculation said that Schilling had been murdered for his money, but he only had $80. 

Schroop maintained his innocence until Chief of Detectives Wood visited his cell at midnight on the night of his arrest. Around 2:00, Wood came out saying that Shroop had confessed. Schroop told him that he got up at about 5:00 on Christmas morning and found no food in the cupboard. He accused Schilling of eating all that was left. Schilling denied it, and a fight ensued. Schroop knocked him down and beat him to death with a heavy piece of wood. He left the body in the kitchen until that evening, then took it to the cellar and dismembered it, loading the parts into two bags. The next morning, he carried the bags by wagon to the park.

The police were happy to have a confession but did not believe Shroop’s account of the crime. They viewed the murder as a conspiracy involving the whole Schroop family, and it was beginning to break down. Wilhelmina Shcroop was prostrated with grief over the arrest of her husband, so much so that she had to be hospitalized. Under oath, in the presence of her father, Susan Schroop told the police that a few weeks earlier, her mother had begged her to put poison in Schilling’s coffee and became very angry when Susan refused. Her father denied this.

“You know I am telling the truth,” she said to him, “and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to ask me to lie.”

“Your stepmother is innocent,” said Schroop.

“That is not true,” she replied, “Oh, father, if you had never met that bad woman, you would never have killed this man. She has been your ruin.”

On the witness stand at the inquest, Wilhelmina denied any knowledge of the murder. As the coroner read Susan’s sworn statement, Wilhelmina exclaimed, “Oh! My God, such a lie; such a lie. Terrible, terrible! That girl’s down on me; she’s down on me, and that’s why she lies so.”

Other witnesses revealed more dirt on the family. Rosa Hatrick, landlady of Wilhelmina and Jacob before they were married, said that Wilhelmina, who was Mrs. Richter at the time, had left her husband and married Jacob while Mr. Richter was still alive. Special Officer Henry testified that Susan told him that her father wanted her to marry Schilling and then poison him. Owen McCaffery, their current landlord, testified that Jacob had ill-treated his daughter and that Wilhelmina had once told him that Schilling was her brother.

The coroner’s jury charged Jacob Schroop with the murder of Antoine Schilling and Wilhelmina (whom they now called Mrs. Richter) as an accessory before the fact. The crowd around the courthouse was so thick that several policemen had to clear a path to the patrol wagon that took them to jail.

Jacob Schroop was tried and easily convicted of murder in March 1889. He was sentenced to hang. The grand jury indicted Wilhelmina, but her attorney asked for a test of her mental condition to determine if she was fit for trial. She was examined by the prison physician and the prison agent, who determined she was of unsound mind. The Judge committed her to the Eastern Hospital for the Insane.

On February 20, 1890, at a double execution in Moyamensing Prison, Jacob Schoop was hanged on the same gallows with Thomas J. Cole, who murdered his roommate. Both men died quickly.

---

Sources: 

“Accused by Their Daughter,” Chicago Daily News., January 3, 1889.
“Confessed He Murdered Schilling,” Kingston Daily Freeman., December 31, 1888.
“Doomed to the Gallows,” Sunday Inter Ocean, March 3, 1889.
“Foully Slain for $80,” Daily Inter Ocean, January 1, 1889.
“A Horrible Butchery,” Philadelphia Inquirer, December 27, 1888.
“A Human Body in a Water Main,” Illustrated Police News, January 12, 1889.
“Is it Kreutzman?,” Philadelphia Inquirer, December 29, 1888.
“Last Sunday On Earth,” Philadelphia Inquirer, February 17, 1890.
“Mrs. Schoop Adjudged Insane,” New-York Tribune, June 25, 1889.
“Mrs. Schoop indicted for Murder,” Philadelphia Inquirer, March 15, 1889.
“The Murder Rehearsed ,” Philadelphia Inquirer, January 9, 1889.
“The Mystery Solved,” Chicago Daily News., December 31, 1888.
“The Noose,” Evening World, February 20, 1890.
“Park Mystery Solved Important,” Philadelphia Inquirer, December 31, 1888.
“The Philadelphia Murder,” Evening Post, December 31, 1888.
“The Philadelphia Murder,” Cleveland Leader and Morning Herald., January 3, 1889.
“The Philadelphia Murder,” Daily Evening Bulletin, January 16, 1889.
“That Bad Woman,” Daily Saratogian, January 4, 1889.
“Two Executed on One Gallows,” New York Herald, February 21, 1890.

Affairs in Norwich.

On the morning of March 22, 1881, 60-year-old Alby C. Thompson was found in the Thames Hotel on Market Street in Norwich, Connecticut, suffering from a “paralytic fit.” It was a bad part of town, known for crime and prostitution, and it was assumed that Thompson was the victim of a robbery. He was taken to his home.

Three days later, blood oozed from his ears, and doctors discovered that Thompson had a fractured skull. He died soon after. 

The proprietor of the Thames Hotel, Daniel Delanoy, told police that Thompson had fallen down a staircase while intoxicated. A coroner’s jury disputed this account and, after hearing testimony from other residents of the hotel, concluded that Thompson came to his death from injuries received at the hands of Delanoy’s wife, Julia.

Killed With a Cuspidor.

Jerry Shoaff was drinking with a group of young men at Tom Clarke’s saloon in Fort Wayne, Indiana, the night of October 3, 1888. Eight of them decided to go next to Goelecke’s Saloon on East Main Street. Someone proposed that they order drinks there, then leave without paying. They all agreed to the plan.

They stood at the bar and ordered their drinks. As the men finished drinking, they began leaving he saloon. William Goelecke, who was tending the bar, demanded that they pay. Shoaff and his friends, Arthur Hammill and J.W. Hefflinger, stayed at the bar arguing with Goelecke, who was threatening them with a seltzer bottle he was holding by the neck.

William Kanning, one of the entourage, was outside smoking a cigar when he heard a large crash sounding like breaking glass. A moment later, Jerry Shoaff ran out of the bar saying, “Run boys, I have hit him.” They all ran down Main Street and turned down a side street.

During the argument inside the saloon, someone picked up an iron spittoon and hurled it at Goelecke. It hit him on the head and then shattered the bar mirror. Goelecke fell to the ground unconscious. His skull was fractured.

For Love of His Landlady.

Benjamin and Mary Merrill lived with their four-year-old son on Illinois Street in Chicago, where they ran a boarding house. During the day, Benjamin worked as a broker, and Mary took care of the house along with their chambermaid, Hattie Berk.

In May 1888, 22-year-old Andrew J. Martin took residence in the Merrills’ boarding house. He worked nights as a stationary engineer for the Union Steamboat Company. During the day, he lounged around the house, trying to ingratiate himself with Mrs. Merrill. 33-year-old Mary Merril, a tall, attractive brunette, was pleasant toward Martin, but was happily married and had no interest in his advances.

By December 1888, Martin was desperately in love and would not leave Mary alone. When other boarders began commenting on Martin’s behavior, Hattie Berk took their concerns to Mary.

Martin learned of this and on December 10, he approached Mary, who was sitting in the parlor, and tried to persuade her to discharge Hattie. He told her that Hattie was a loose character and would bring disgrace upon the house. Mary turned on him and said it was time for him to attend to his own business and leave the affairs of the house alone.  She did not care to have any more of his interference in her business and hoped he would leave the house as soon as he could find another place to live.

“Do you mean that?” Martin asked.

“I certainly do, Mr. Martin,” said Mary, “It will be best all around if you do.”

Martin said no more; he got up and left the house. Mary went upstairs to the room where Hattie was making the bed.

“Hattie, don’t you think I have a right to mind my own business?” said Mary, perhaps feeling guilty about being so harsh with Martin.

“Why certainly,” said Hattie, and they discussed Martin’s disruptive behavior.

Martin came back into the house and quietly climbed the stairs. He stood for a moment outside the room and overheard their conversation. Then he entered the room, and “affecting a devilish suavity,” he drew a pistol from his pocket.

“Who are you gabbing about now?” he said. Then he raised the pistol and fired at Hattie, who was sitting on the bed. The shot missed, and with a terrified shriek, she bounded off the bed and out the door. Martin pointed the pistol at Mary and fired twice, hitting her in the abdomen and in the jaw. Outside the room, Hattie turned and watched as Martin raised the pistol to his right temple and blew out his brains.

Hattie fled downstairs, picked up the Merrills’ son, and ran into the street screaming. She drew the attention of a policeman, who followed her back to the house. The upstairs room was a revolting sight. Martin lay dead, face up on the floor. Mary, lying in a pool of blood, was still alive. Conscious, but unable to speak, she lay that way for three hours before dying.

When Benjamin Merrill heard the news of his wife’s murder, he became hysterical and rushed home from work. Though he knew the killer was dead as well, he screamed, “Let me at him. He should be drawn and quartered.”

Later, he spoke more calmly:

No husband ever loved a wife more than I did mine. She was so sympathetic, and glorified in my success, and sympathized in my failures. She was all that a wife could be, true as steel and pure as a virgin.

Martin was a boy, a country lad. He was a good-hearted fellow, too, and often took our little boy to plays. Of course, he loved my wife. Who could blame him for loving her? But I was not jealous, for she told me everything and only looked on him as I did, as a good-natured country boy.

Benjamin was not well enough to testify at the coroner’s inquest the following day. Hattie Berk, the
eyewitness, told the whole story on the stand. The jury came to the only conclusion possible: that Andrew Martin committed suicide after shooting Mary Merrill twice.

---

Sources: 

“Andrew J Martin,” National Police Gazette, December 29, 1888.
“Double Tragedy in Chicago,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, December 11, 1888.
“Faithful to the Last,” Evening Post, December 11, 1888.
“For Love of His Landlady,” News and Courier, December 11, 1888.
“The Martin Merrill Tragedy,” Chicago Daily News, December 11, 1888.
“Martin's Awful Crime,” Chicago Daily News, December 11, 1888.
“The Merrill Martin Murder,” Daily Inter Ocean, December 12, 1888.
“Sensational Double Tragedy,” Indianapolis Journal., December 11, 1888.
 

Was Abbott Innocent?

Illustrated Police News, February 28, 1885.

Joseph Crue returned from work to his home in Groton, Massachusetts, on January 18, 1880, and found his wife, Maria, lying dead in the bedroom.  She had been shot three times in the face, and the Medical Examiner determined that she had been raped.

A tramp was seen in the neighborhood that day looking for work. A neighbor of the Crues, Jennie Carr, identified the tramp as Stearns K. Abbott from a police photograph. Abbott had recently been released from New Hampshire State Prison, where he had served time for larceny. He had also served prison time in Massachusetts and Connecticut. Abbott had already left town, so the police circulated his photograph among New England police departments. Ten days later, Abbott was arrested in East Weare, New Hampshire.

Abbott was convicted of murder and sentenced to hang, but there was lingering doubt as to his guilt. In February 1885, Chief Wade of the State District Police said:

I never thought Abbot Killed that woman. Why, there was a whole hour of her husband’s time that was unaccounted for, and that length of time was sufficient for him to commit the deed in. It was the old story, though, of giving a dog a bad name and everybody will kick it. Abbott had a bad reputation and no friends to look out for his interests. That Jennie Carr that swore so strongly in the case knew a good deal more than she swore to. She didn’t care to tell all she knew. I have no doubt that the truth will come out in this case and that it will be at last cleared up. Stearns Kendall Abbott is an innocent man, so far as the murder of Mrs. Crue is concerned. 

The truth never did come out, but public pressure led the state governor to commute Abbott's sentence to life in prison. Abbott served thirty years of his sentence before being pardoned in 1911. He never wavered in his assertion of innocence. 

Read the full story here: The Groton Tragedy.

The Prince Street Murder.

 

Bertha Levy entered the house at 111 Prince Street, Manhattan, just before 10:00 a.m. on January 18, 1880. She was a hairdresser, and she had an appointment with Annie Downey, who lived on the second floor. No one responded to her knocks, and the door was locked. The owner of the house did not have a key to the room. Fearing the worst, they summoned the police; the Eighth Precinct Station House was less than a block away.

Officer Sweeny and Sergeant McNally broke the door open and found Annie Downey’s lifeless body lying prostrate on the blood-soaked bed. A pillowcase was tightly bound around her throat. Her left arm was bent, and her fingers were clutching the pillowcase. Ugly gashes on her forehead and bruises marred her face.