James and Ellen.

James Lattin and Ellen Lucas.
(Daily Graphic, November 20, 1874.)

Ellen Lucas of Bridgeport, Connecticut, was to be married on October 3, 1874. The typically happy 18-year-old was somewhat anxious on the evening of October 2, repeatedly looking at the clock as she hastily ate supper. Ellen changed her clothes and left the house at 7:00, telling her mother that she would not be gone long. Mrs. Lucas watched her daughter walk to the corner where she met her fiancé, James E. Lattin. Ellen never came home that night.

Read the full story here: The Bridgeport Tragedy.

The Tell-Tale Skull.

(Philadelphia Inquirer, April 29, 1895.)

Johanna Gahan married Jimmy Logue, a professional thief, in 1871, just as he was preparing to serve a seven-year prison sentence for burglary. She waited for him, and after his release, Jimmy bought a house for them in Philadelphia. Within a year, Jimmy was off on a “thieving expedition” to Boston. When he returned, Johanna was gone.

Those who knew Jimmy Logue knew he frequently beat Johanna, and they believed she had taken the opportunity of his absence to run away. Logue searched for her, but he was arrested again for burglary and sent back to prison. Nothing more was thought about Johanna’s disappearance until workmen repairing the kitchen of the Philadelphia house found a woman’s skull under the floorboards.

The skull was identified as Johanna’s by the formation of the teeth and the clothing found with the skull. Jimmy was in trouble again, but this time he had an alibi. 

Read the full story here: "A Romance in Crime."

The Confession of Mary Cole.

The Confession of Mary Cole, 1813.

Cornelius and Mary Cole lived in a farmhouse in Sussex County, New Jersey, with their two children and Mary’s widowed mother, Agnes Teaurs. Cornelius bought the property from Agnes in exchange for an annuity of $50 per year for the rest of her life. Mary and her husband did not live happily with Agnes. According to Mary, her mother was always very hard on her, and she insisted on sleeping in the same bed as Mary and Cornelius, even though they provided her with another bed.

In December 1811, Agnes apparently moved out of the house. Mary told the neighbors that Agnes was offended by something the couple did, so she packed up and moved in with her brother in Bergen County. The following March, Mary and Cornelius left as well, moving in with his family. They rented the farm to another family.

The family that moved into the farmhouse perceived an unusual and unpleasant odor. They believed it was coming from beneath the floor, and in June, they pulled up some floorboards in the kitchen and found the source. It was the dead body of a woman lying in a shallow hole covered with ashes and swingle tow (flax fiber). They raised an alarm, the neighbors collected in the kitchen and were able to identify the body as that of Agnes Teaurs.

Her skull had been fractured by a severe blow from an axe or a hammer, and her throat was cut from one ear to the other. A coroner’s jury found that her death had been “willful murder, committed by Cole and his wife.” A warrant was issued to apprehend Cornelius and Mary. They were apprehended in their home in Bergen County and taken before Judge Pennington in Newark, New Jersey, who committed them to jail.

Before their trial, Mary confessed. She said that on December 15, they had guests who remained until almost midnight. After they left, Cornelius went to bed. Mary and her mother had a dispute in the room where Cornelius was sleeping. According to Mary, as the quarrel escalated, Agnes threatened her with a knife. Mary grabbed an axe and struck her mother on the head, knocking her down and fracturing her skull. Then Mary took a jackknife and cut her mother’s throat. She awakened Cornelius and told him what she had done.

The next morning, he dug a hole under the floorboards, put the body in the hole, covered it with ashes and tow, then replaced the boards. They told the story that Agnes had moved out, and they were believed until the body was found.

The Coles were tried for murder in the Court of Oyer and Terminer in Sussex County. Mary was convicted of murder and sentenced to hang. Cornelius was acquitted of murdering Agnes, but found guilty of concealing her murder. He was fined $250 and sentenced to two years imprisonment in the State Prison. Mary’s attorney tried to lessen the crime to manslaughter, but all who heard the trial were satisfied with the verdict.

Mary Cole was hanged in Newton, New Jersey, on June 26, 1812. Her last words were:

It is a hard thing for me to die, but I must. I do not deserve to die; my mother came at me with a knife to kill me, and I was so afraid and mad that I did not know what I did. I hope all will take warning by me, and not let their passion get the better of their judgment.

---

Sources: 

Cole, Mary, The Confession of Mary Cole (New York: Printed for the purchasers, 1813.)

 “[At a Court of Oyer and Terminer],” Sentinel of Freedom, June 2, 1812.
“[On Friday, 26 ult.],” Sentinel of Freedom, July 14, 1812.
“Legislative Acts/Legal Proceedings,” Long-Island Star, July 15, 1812.
“Newton, Sussex-County, June 2,” Trenton Federalist, June 8, 1812.

Jennie Cramer's Tragic Ballad.

(New Haven Independent)

Taylor Ward sings "Found Drifting with the Tide" (excerpt), the tragic ballad of Jennie Cramer's murder.

“Found Drifting with the Tide” was a song written by A. C. Willis, "Dedicated to the memory of Jennie Cramer," who was murdered in 1881.

When the body of beautiful young Jennie Cramer was found on a sandbar in the ocean off West Haven, Connecticut, in August 1881, it was assumed that she had drowned and possibly committed suicide. But there was no water in her lungs, and a thorough examination of the body revealed that the cause of death had been arsenic poisoning. It was also revealed that she had lost her virginity within the last forty-eight hours, and not consensually—she had been violently raped. Suspicion fell immediately on Jimmy Malley, Jennie’s current beau and nephew of the richest man in New Haven. The problem for the prosecution, and everyone since, was determining what exactly happened in the last two days of Jennie Cramer’s life.

Read the full story here: Found Drifting with the Tide.

Charles and Lizzie.

 

Charles Kaiser conspired with Lizzie DeKalb to murder his wife for insurance. When the plot was uncovered and the murderers tried, both claimed that they acted under the hypnotic power of James Clemmer, the insurance agent who conceived the plan.

Read the full story here: The Kaiser Conspiracy.

A Delilah's Revenge.

 

In 1863, Theodore B. Weber, then a businessman in Burlington, Iowa, was attracted to Mrs. Adelaide (Ada) Bennert, a woman sixteen years his junior. His passion “soon ripened into criminal intimacy,” and although both were married, they began a romantic affair. When Mr. Bennert learned of his wife’s infidelity, he left her in disgust. Weber moved to Chicago to join his brother’s boot-and-shoe wholesale business. Ada followed him to Chicago, and the affair continued.

Hannah and Stephen.

 

Stephen Pettus gave Hannah Southworth a glass of drugged champagne and had his way with her while she was unconscious. Hannah became pregnant and for years after, she badgered Pettus to acknowledge that he had ruined her. When all legal means were exhausted, she avenged her honor by shooting him in the back on a Brooklyn street.

Read the full story here: Avenging Her Honor.

The Conspirators and their Hitman.

In 1830, Joseph Knapp conspired with his brother, John Francis Knapp, to hire a local criminal, Richard Crowninshield, to murder their great uncle, Captain Joseph White, in Salem, Massachusetts. They believed that if the captain died without a will, they stood to inherit a sizable fortune.

Read the full story here: "A Most Extraordinary Case"

Jack the Strangler Post-Mortem.

Strangler Suspect, Jacob Tolker
(New York Journal, May 14, 1897)

Eight women were strangled—seven fatally— on Manhattan’s East Side, between May 1894 and August 1900. While the police closed three of the cases, their solutions were so weak that the New York City newspapers continued to list them all as unsolved and continued to speculate that one man committed all eight crimes. “It is not difficult to construct a hypothetical 'Jack the Strangler' who prowls up and down Second Avenue and from time to time surrenders himself to his cruel, cowardly mania.” Said the New York Journal. Was there a mad strangler at loose on Second Avenue, or was “Jack the Strangler” the product of sensational journalism?

Kate Scharn.

Kate Scharn.
(New York American, August 20, 1900.)

It had been more than two years since a murder was reported in New York City’s East Side, but on August 20, 1900, the pattern was all too familiar. A young woman was found murdered in her room after 1:00 a.m. No one heard a sound. Her jewelry was stolen. A variety of men were suspected, but with very little evidence against any of them. Kate Scharn was the latest victim of “Jack the Strangler.”

Maggie Crowley.

Maggie Crowley.
(New York Journal, March 16, 1898.)

On March 15, 1898, a woman was found strangled to death in the courtyard of a New York City tenement.  She was the seventh strangulation victim in the area over the previous four years. What made this case different was that even before the victim was identified, the police had a suspect in custody. Some believed he was responsible for all seven murders.

Shortly before 5:00 a.m. Robert Hoey told Policeman Peter Dillman that there was a dead woman in the courtyard at 27 Monroe Street, where he lived. Hoey said he was returning from his job on the docks, unloading the steamer, Gulf Stream. Coming home in the dark, he literally stumbled over an obstruction that turned out to be a woman lying on the ground. He thought she was sleeping and tried to rouse her, but his efforts were in vain.

"Diamond Flossie" Murphy.

"Diamond Flossie" Murphy.
(New York Journal, March 18, 1898.)

Flossie Murphy was a flamboyant character, notorious in the demi-monde of New York City’s Tenderloin. She had a fondness for diamond jewelry, which she wore conspicuously, earning her the nickname, “Diamond Flossie.” With her striking public display of diamonds and gold, Diamond Flossie was an obvious target for the many jewel thieves operating in the area. But when she was found on the floor of her room on April 22, 1897, with a rope tied around her neck and all her jewelry gone, the coroner ignored evidence of theft and murder and ruled her death a suicide.

Diamond Flossie was born Flossie Reilly in Albany, New York, and had come to New York City six years earlier. She lived at 228 W. 24th Street with her common-law husband, Alexander Frederick Murphy, taking his last name. The police knew Diamond Flossie as a woman of the street and a thief. She was arrested in March with her friend Ida Carr for picking the pocket of one William Bishop. When caught, they returned the money, $80, and Bishop withdrew the charge.

She was addicted to opium, and, on the night of her death, Mr. Murphy prepared a pipe for her before going out. The last thing she said before he left was that she was planning to meet the Dutchman at the corner of 27th Street and 7th Avenue.

Hannah Altman.

(New York Evening Journal, March 18, 1898)

Around 1 a.m. on September 2, 1896, Samuel Meyers ran out of the tenement at 202 East 29^th Street, screaming, “Murder! Murder! Police! Police!”

Patrolman Tyler heard his cries and ran to the spot.

“My wife is murdered!” said Meyers, “Somebody has killed my wife. She’s dead.”

Tyler and another officer followed Meyers to a second-floor apartment. The first policeman who entered the bedroom recoiled in horror. In flickering candlelight, he saw the distorted features of a young woman, wearing only a yellow shirtwaist and a chemise, with her head hanging over the edge of the bed. A black stocking was wrapped tightly around her neck and tied under her chin.

Annie Bock.

(New York Journal, August 5, 1896)

Annie Bock and her husband, Jacob, were spending the summer at Rockaway Beach in Queens, New York. On Sunday, August 1, 1896, Annie went back to their flat at 207 E. 21st Street in Manhattan’s East Side to pay their monthly rent. She had $300 in the Dry Dock Savings Bank, and on Monday morning, she withdrew $50 and paid $20 rent. Her plan was to return to Rockaway that afternoon, but instead, she went to Coney Island, possibly accompanied by a man. “At 9:00 she was on 14th Street,” said the New York Journal, “the pavements of which she knew well.”  

Her movements were observed by others who knew the pavements well. Rosa Schwartz saw Annie stop and converse with a man, 5’ 6”, slender, graying hair, wearing a black frock coat and a straw hat. They walked to 3rd Avenue and took a cable car uptown. Hattie Stein and Lillie Field saw them alight from the car on 21st Street and enter No. 207 together. Mamie Freidman saw them leave the house about 20 minutes later. At about 12:30, Mrs. Feltner, who had a view of the entrance to 207 from her window, saw Annie return to the house with another man, of medium build, with a swarthy complexion and a black mustache. This was the last time Annie Bock was seen alive by anyone but her killer.

Mamie Cunningham.

(New York Journal, May 31, 1896.)

On the morning of Memorial Day, May 30, 1896, Mrs. Annie Cunningham had to go to work, while her 13-year-old daughter, Mary (known as Mamie), was home from school for the holiday. Mrs. Cunningham asked Mamie if she planned to go to the parade. Mamie said no, she wasn’t interested, and she planned to do housework and study. At 8:30, Mrs. Cunningham said goodbye to her daughter; it was the last time she saw Mamie alive.

Minnie Weldt.

(New York Evening Journal, March 18, 1898.)

Helen Kahlert, a washerwoman, came home from work at 8:00 on the evening of Wednesday, May 30, 1894. After working all day at a home on Park Avenue in New York City, she climbed the stairs to the humble, second-floor apartment on East 61st Street that she shared with Minnie Weldt. To her surprise, the door was unlocked, and the apartment was dark. Minnie should have been home, but there was no response when Helen called out to her. Helen went into the bedroom and struck a match. She saw Minnie lying on the bed with a handkerchief tied tightly around her throat. Her face was badly discolored, and her eyes were bulging from their sockets. Helen screamed in horror, then rushed from the room down to the street, crying for help.

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.

Frederick F. Streeter.

About half past three, the morning of July 2, 1863, a young man on his way to work in Medina, Ohio, saw the home of Shubal Coy in flames. He alerted the neighbors, who came out to douse the flames with water. When the fire was under control, they went inside to look for the Coy family. They found Shubal lying in bed with nine stab wounds in his throat and breast, any one of them capable of producing death. His wife lay on the floor, with her throat cut. She had fought with her attacker and had twenty-four cuts on her head and body. Their seven-year-old son Ferdinand lay in bed with his throat cut. Mercifully, it appeared he was murdered in his sleep.

Medford's Murder Mystery.

(Boston Post, March 29, 1897,)

Walter R. Debbins was shot twice in the back, in broad daylight, on Highland Street in Medford, Massachusetts, on the afternoon of Saturday, March 27, 1897. Though no one saw the murder or heard the gunshots, there was enough traffic on Highland Street that afternoon for the police to precisely pinpoint the time of the shooting to between 1:00 and 1:05. But that was all they could pinpoint; everything else about the crime was shrouded in mystery that grew more dense with each new revelation.

 

Read the full story here: The Medford Mystery.