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, she said goodbye to her daughter; it was the last time she saw her alive.

Their four-room, first-floor flat at 315 E. 37^th Street, in New York’s Tenderloin district, was well furnished, “with a good taste somewhat unusual in the tenements of the extreme East Side.” Annie Cunningham, a 37-year-old widow, was the caretaker for the building, which included nine other flats.

13-year-old Mamie was quite attractive and considered as mature as someone three or four years older. She was five feet four inches tall, weighed 112 pounds, had dark hair, dark eyes, and a clear, rosy complexion. Mamie had many admirers but no sweetheart. Domestic in all her tastes, she had a notably religious temperament. She regularly attended St. Gabriel’s Roman Catholic Church and was a pupil of its private academy. In her bedroom, Mamie had a shrine to the Virgin Mary.

Mrs. Cunningham returned from work at around 2:00 on the afternoon of May 30. She called out for Mamie but received no response. She went into her bedroom, saw that the bedclothes had been tossed about, and feared that burglars had been in the house. Calling again for Mamie, she ran into her daughter’s bedroom. As she crossed the threshold, she stumbled over a dark object and fell to the floor. Groping in the dim light, she soon saw she had tripped over Mamie’s body. When she could not revive her daughter, she ran into the hallway and shouted in alarm.

A crowd of tenants gathered in the hall. One woman ran to summon a doctor and another to summon a priest. They both arrived too late; Mamie was dead. Her face had been brutally bruised and battered, and a towel was tightly wound around her throat. She had been beaten and strangled to death. The doctor confirmed what everyone could see: Mamie had been murdered.

Francis P. Ferrell, who lived on the fourth floor, ran to the E. 35^th Street Station House ran to inform the police. Detectives Becker and Purfield were sent at once to the house, followed quickly by Captain Martens, Inspector Brooks, and three more detectives. By the time they arrived, a great crowd had gathered around the building.

In Mamie’s bedroom, the furniture and bed sheets were in disarray, her shine to Mary was destroyed. The evidence showed that she had bravely fought her attacker but could not escape the violence. Both eyes were blackened, and her throat was bruised by a man’s hands before the towel was applied. There was hardly a spot on her body that was not bruised.

(New York Journal, May 31, 1896.)

Outside, a tall, unkempt man in the crowd started walking away, when some of the tenants recalled seeing him in the hallway when the crime was discovered. The crowd called for his arrest, and when he heard them, he started running. He ran several blocks before an officer caught up and arrested him.

At the stationhouse, he gave his name as Edward McCormack, a 40-year-old laborer, who lived on W. 30^th Street. His aunt lived on the second floor of the house where Mamie was killed. He said his wife was dying of consumption and he had gone to see his aunt, hoping to borrow some money.

When arrested, McCormack had stains on his shirt that appeared to be blood. Inspector Brooks subjected McCormack to a severe examination, then took him to the murder scene and compelled him to look at the body of the dead child. He did not show any unusual emotion. Although there was no evidence against him, McCormack was held in custody.

The police worked on determining the way the killer had entered the flat. The kitchen door had been locked when Mrs. Cunningham returned that afternoon. They discovered that the west window blind of the kitchen had faint marks, and one of the staples that held it closed had broken and fallen to the flagstones beneath the window. The police believed the killer had entered through the kitchen door and left through the window. From there, he descended to the cellar door, which the police found unlocked. He then went into the cellar and left through the door on 37^th Street.

Mrs. Cunningham told the police that Francis Ferrell had a key that fit both the kitchen and cellar doors. She said she once found him in the cellar and asked where he got the key; he said he had filed down an old key and made it work.

(New York Journal, May 31, 1896.)

The police arrested Francis Ferrell. In addition to being the person who summoned the police, Ferrell was the last person to see Mamie alive. He said he left for the barbershop at 9:45 that morning and met Mamie as she was scrubbing the floor at the foot of the stairs. When he returned, she was gone.  He didn’t see Mamie or hear anything until he heard the screams in the hall when the body was found.

Ferrell had the key in his pocket when arrested. Inspector Brooks asked where he got it, and he said Mrs. Cunningham gave it to him two years ago.

“But she says she didn’t,” said the inspector.

“I can’t help that,” responded Ferrell, and then added, “I suppose she wants to hang somebody, but I tell you, Captain, I know nothing about Mamie’s murder.”

The police held both Ferrell and McCormick on suspicion, though there was little evidence against either.

On June 2, the police brought in a witness who had been telling his neighbors stories about witnessing the crime. 15-year-old Joe Morreno worked in his father’s coal and ice dealership. On May 30, a little girl came into the store and ordered ten pounds of ice to be delivered to 315 E. 35^th Street. When he tried to make the delivery, he found he had the wrong street, so he went to other houses, trying to find the customer. When he went to 315 E. 37^th Street, he heard a noise in the Cunninghams’ flat. The kitchen door was unlocked, so he poked his head in. He saw Mamie on her knees, her clothes torn and disordered, tears streaming down her face. A man was leaning over her, tying and knotting a piece of cloth around her neck.

The man saw him and exclaimed, “What in the hell do you want here!”

The girl, half choked, found her breath and cried, “Murder.”

He ran home and started telling people about it.

The police walked Morreno through the cells to see if he could identify the man. He singled out Edward McCormack as the man he saw strangling the girl. They held Moreeno as a witness. 

At a hearing before City Magistrate Crane on June 3, Francis Farrell was discharged. There was no evidence against him, and the court believed his alibi. Morreno told his story in court, and McCormack was held without bail. The police had faith in Morreno’s story but some of the newspapers were skeptical. They thought his story was a little too perfect and his knowledge of the Cunningham flat was too detailed. They thought he might be after some dime-novel notoriety, or perhaps was the assailant himself.

On June 9, another young boy, 16-year-old Rocco Celiano added further complications to the case. Celiano, a bootblack at Police Headquarters, told reporters that the police had hired him to spy on Joe Morreno. He became an inmate at the Gerry Society detention rooms where Morreno was being held. They spoke to each other in Italian, and Celiano got Morreno talking about the crime. He first said he saw McCormack kill the girl, but later he confessed that he did it. Celiano pressed him for more information.

“Well, I killed the girl,” he said, “but I won’t tell you why I did it or how I did it.”

Celiano said he made the story public because the police refused to pay him for his services. The police denied ever hiring Celiano to spy on Morreno, but the damage had been done. Now no one believed either of Morreno’s stories, and he was later indicted for perjury. Also, chemists determined that the stains on McCormack’s shirt were rust, not blood. The flimsy case against Edward McCormack had completely unraveled. After seventeen days in jail, McCormack was released.

Soon after, the police had a new suspect. John Meier, a young barber, was caught attempting to assault 5-year-old Lillie Lambert in a building on First Avenue, about a block from the Cunninghams. His employer said he worked all day but was away between noon and 1:00. Meier was held on $500 for assaulting the child.

The police did not arrest Meier for Mamie Cunningham’s murder, but after receiving some new evidence, they rearrested Francis Farrell. Several tenants of the house said they saw Farrell talking with Mamie on the rear porch as late as 11:30. Another saw them together in the hall at 11:45. Farrell had said he was at the barber shop at that time. Additionally, Mrs. McCormack, who believed Farrell was guilty, told Inspector Brooks that, sometime before the murder, Farrell had been caught taking liberties with Mamie. The police said they had more evidence against Farrell that they would not disclose. From the hints they gave, the New York Sun inferred that Farrell may have paid Morreno, to testify against McCormack.

The trial of Francis P. Farrell began on June 20, 1898, more than two years after the crime. In addition to the circumstantial evidence against Farrell, the prosecution called two penmanship experts who testified that a number of anonymous letters sent to police and other officials were written by Farrell. The letters offered to give information about the murder in exchange for money.

The most moving testimony came from Farrell as he described how the police abused him while trying to elicit a confession. They took him to Mamie’s room and made him kneel before the shrine of the Virgin.

“You are a Catholic,” said Detective McCafferty,  “Get down on your knees and confess.”

McCafferty kept shouting, “Are you going to confess?” and Farrell said he had nothing to confess.

“By God,” said McCafferty, you’ll be tried in a chair, and a current of electricity will be put through your body, and your finish will be a pine box in the pauper’s cemetery.”

They showed him Mamie’s bloody clothes, tied the bloody towel around his neck, and said they were going to choke him. They finally shoved the towel into his mouth. Mrs. Cunningham came in carrying a carving knife. They said they would let her kill him for revenge. Instead, she threw a dish of water over him and slapped his face.

The jury took the case on June 24, 1898, deliberated for several hours, then, around midnight, they sent word that they were unable to agree on a verdict. It later came out that the jury stood 8 to 4 for acquittal, but the holdouts refused to give in. The District Attorney concluded that there was not enough evidence against Farrell to warrant a second trial. The court refused to dismiss the indictment but allowed Farrell to be released on $1,000 bail.

No one else was ever tried for the murder of Mamie Cunningham. As the New York Herald wrote, “Some murders won’t out.”

While the police were investigating Mamie Cunningham’s death, three other women were murdered in the Tenderloin, and the cases all remained unsolved. At this point, neither the police nor the press considered the possibility that all four were killed by the same person. In June 1896, The New York Harald compared the strangulation of Mamie Cunningham with that of Minnie Weldt in the same neighborhood two years earlier. “Is there a Jack the Strangler?” they asked. By the end of the century, there were eight unsolved strangulation cases in the Tenderloin, and the newspapers were ready to answer the question with a resounding “Yes.”

---

Sources: 

“Another Suspect Now,” The World, June 11, 1896.
“Child Victim of a Strangler,” Journal, May 31, 1896.
“Cunningham Murder Trial,” The New York Times, June 21, 1898.
“Cunningham Murder Trial,” The New York Times, June 23, 1898.
“Did He Murder Mamie?” Sun, January 17, 1897.
“The Farrell Jury Disagree,” New-York Tribune, June 24, 1898.
“Farrell out of the Tomb,” New York Herald, June 28, 1898.
“Farrell Pleads Not Guilty,” New York Herald, January 19, 1897.
“Ferrone Still a Prisoner,” New-York Tribune, September 11, 1896.
“Joseph Feroni a Burglar,” New York Herald, June 14, 1898.
“Later Developments,” Windham County Reformer, June 5, 1896.
“Marreno to Plead Monday,” The World, June 19, 1896.
“Money for the McCormacks,” The World, June 26, 1896.
“Mrs. Cunningham Excited,” The New York Times, March 23, 1897.
“Police Views on Recent Crimes,” New-York Tribune, September 5, 1896.
“Put on the Bloody Towel,” New York Herald, June 23, 1898.
“Said He Killed Mamie,” The World, June 10, 1896.
“Some Murders Won't Out,” New York Herald, September 21, 1898.
“Star Sang to Prisoners,” The New York Times, February 8, 1897.
“Too Wicked for God to Spare,” journal., June 1, 1896.

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.

Two officers responded, and she took them up to her apartment. When they saw the body, they arrested Helen and took her to the 67th Street Police Station for questioning.  Captain Strause dispatched two detectives to investigate the scene. 

The women were very poor. Their three-room apartment was sparsely furnished, and the bed they shared was just a mattress atop some wooden boxes. There were no signs of violence in the rooms. A search of the apartment produced a man’s white handkerchief with the monogram, “B.R.,” a slip of paper with an address in Hawley, Pennsylvania. Handwritten on a card were the words, “After suffering, Relieve. Dead. Amen.”  suggesting to the detectives that Minnie had committed suicide.

New York Herald, June 1, 1894.

They abandoned the suicide theory after the coroner examined the body. The handkerchief was tied so tightly that it dug into the flesh. A strong hand had tied the knot. A bruise on her wrist indicated that she was held in a tight grasp, and a bruise around her eye was caused by a blow and not by strangulation. Since there were no signs of struggle, the detectives believed Minnie had been knocked unconscious before she was strangled. She was taken by surprise by someone she knew.

The other residents of the building told the detectives that many men, too well-dressed for that part of town, visited the women at all hours of the day and night. They would sometimes ask for Mrs. Lang, the name that Minnie and Helen put on their door.

Helen Kahlert was a German immigrant who spoke little English. Through an interpreter, she told them she was 30 years old and had been in America for one year. Minnie Weldt, 21, was also German and had been in the country for three years. They met in Princeton, New Jersey, in January and moved into the apartment on 61st Street three weeks earlier. Both worked as washerwomen in other people's homes, as well as taking in laundry. They placed advertisements in German and English newspapers for gentlemen’s washing. The ads were signed “Mrs. Lang,” because they did not want to publish their real names. 

Helen told the police that no men ever called on Minnie; she had a lover in Germany. Minnie had recently received some money from relatives in Germany and set aside $20, saving to bring her lover to America. The police found no trace of the money and now believed the motive for the murder was robbery. 

Mrs. Boese, who lived with her granddaughter in the flat across the hall, kept tabs on people coming and going. She said that around 10:00, Wednesday morning, she heard someone knock on the women’s door. She saw a tall, stout man, dressed in black, wearing a derby hat. His skin was pale, but she could not see his face. He knocked only once, and Minnie let him in. About half an hour later, she and her granddaughter heard him leave the flat. As he passed down the hall, they heard him laughing to himself.

Around 11:00, another man called at the flat, but after knocking several times and receiving no answer, he went away. A third man called between 2:00 and 3:00 with the same result. It seemed likely that the first caller had been the killer. The laughter that Mrs. Boese and her granddaughter heard caused the New York Herald to opine, “It is possible that the man was a maniac, who was pleased at the thought of the deed he had just committed.”

The theory that robbery was the motive was shattered when the missing $20 was found. Helen stayed in Mrs. Boese’s flat the night she found the body. She brought along a small handbag, which she left behind when the police took her to the station. Inside was a balled-up pair of stockings. In the toe of one of them was a $5 gold piece and $15 in paper money.

New York Herald, June 1, 1894.

It now appeared that Minnie did have male callers, so the police brought Helen Kahlert back in to learn more about Minnie’s private life. She told them that prior to their meeting, Minnie was acquainted with a saloonkeeper in Hoboken who wanted to marry her. The man had a housekeeper who was anxious to become his wife. The housekeeper met with Minnie and said she knew of the saloonkeeper’s love for Minnie and confessed her own love for him. She wept, entreated, and threatened Minnie to get her to leave the man alone. Minnie did so, but he did not stop pursuing her until they moved. Helen did not think he knew her new address.

Helen told them that Minnie left a trunk with Mrs. Koerner, who ran a servant girls’ boardinghouse on East 50th Street. The detectives interviewed Mrs. Koerner, who told them Minnie knew several men whom Helen failed to mention: Louis Horn of Park Row; William Strelow, a farmer from Mount Vernon; and Emil Bortis, a Hoboken streetcar conductor.

Louis Horn said he met Minnie in a saloon one night and thereafter paid her bills and helped her along. He eventually tired of this arrangement and broke it off.  Strelow took Minnie out several times, but she did not like him. She wrote and told him not to call again. Emil Bortis called often in his conductor’s uniform. He induced Minnie to live with him and serve as his wife's housekeeper. This lasted three days. She returned to Mrs. Koerner, saying she hated Bortis and would never see him again. Bortis had a solid alibi, and the other two men were not considered suspects in the murder.

On June 2, the police arrested Paul Jacobi on suspicion of murder. There was very little direct evidence to suspect Jacobi, but he fit the description, being a large, fleshy man, and he told conflicting stories. On the day of the murder, he visited a certain liquor shop and got a drink on credit, having no money. He said he was going to Staten Island, where he expected to get work. Shortly after noon, he returned to the same saloon and said he had not gone to Staten Island. A messenger informed him that his wife had just given birth. He seemed to have a large amount of cash and bought drinks for everyone.

When he was seen the following day, he had shaved off the mustache he had worn for years. He told three different stories as to why: he had singed it badly while lighting an alcohol lamp, he shaved it to apply for a job as a waiter in a hotel, and he told police he always shaved it off in the summer.

The police asked where he had spent Wednesday morning, and he said he had visited an old girlfriend named Gretchin Hirsch. She confirmed that he had been to her house that morning and said he had sent her out for beer several times. During one of these trips, he stole $19 from her pocketbook.

The police would not say whether Jacobi knew the dead girl or not, but intimated that they had some strong links in a chain of evidence. During his arraignment, Gretchen Hirsch testified that he was with her between 9:30 and noon. Mrs. Boese and her granddaughter, who had sworn positively that they could identify the man who had entered Minnie’s room on Wednesday, both looked at Jacobi and said he was certainly not the man. Jacobi was released but later rearrested on larceny charges preferred by Gretchen Hirsch.

The police were completely at sea; they had no more leads to follow. Minnie Weldt was buried in Potter’s Field. The coroner’s jury ruled that Minnie was “murdered by a person or persons unknown.” The case remained unsolved.

The New York Sun said, “It seems now that the murderer must either have been someone with a mind perverted like that of Jack the Ripper or a man who had some special object of revenge.” Two years later, a series of unsolved strangulation murders plagued the neighborhood where Minnie Weldt was killed. New York City newspapers speculated that one mad strangler committed them all and that Minnie Weldt had been his first victim.

---

Sources: 

“Also Accused of Theft,” Evening World, June 4, 1894.
“Arrest in the Weldt Murder Case,” The New York Times, June 3, 1894.
“Charged with Minnie Weidt's Death,” Buffalo Evening News, June 4, 1894.
“Found Strangled to Death,” New-York Tribune, May 31, 1894.
“Have Another Clue,” Evening World, June 1, 1894.
“He Knew Minnie Weldt,” Evening World, June 2, 1894.
“Is He The Murderer?” New-York Tribune, June 4, 1894.
“Is There a 'Jack the Strangler' Abroad,” journal, June 21, 1896.
“Jacobi Proves An Alibi,” New-York Tribune, June 5, 1894.
“Little Doubt That It Was Murder,” New-York Tribune, June 1, 1894.
“Minnie Weldt Murdered,” The Evening World, May 31, 1894.
“Mrs. Weldt Killed,” The New York Herald, June 1, 1894.
“The Murder of Minna Weldt,” Sun., June 2, 1894.
“News Article,” Buffalo Evening News, November 21, 1894.
“New-York City,” New-York Tribune, June 29, 1894.
“Strangled With a Handkerchief,” The New York Times, May 31, 1894.
“The Strangler,” Buffalo Evening News, March 16, 1896.
“Wept Over the Photograph,” Evening World, June 2, 1894.

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 unsolved murders to a single individual and comparing him to Jack the Ripper. They invariably attributed groups of unsolved murders to some local version of 

Jack. 

The Humboldt Herald commented on this trend in 1889: 

Since Jack the Ripper emerged into public notice at Whitechapel, London, this country has sprung upon it Jack the Choker, Jack the Kisser, Jack the Strangler, and Jack the Window-breaker. Now, if Jack the Hanger, would come along and hang the whole outfit, himself included, a long-suffering public would clap its hands and cry “Bravo!” 

The name that caught on in America was Jack the Strangler, as a rash of unsolved strangulation cases spread throughout the country. In 1894, three strangulation deaths in Denver, Colorado, were attributed to Jack the Strangler; San Francisco’s Jack the Strangler also murdered three. Jack the Strangler murders were reported in cities throughout America, including Sebolia, Arizona, Nebraska City, Nebraska, Evansville, Indiana, Uniontown, Pennsylvania, and Skagway, Alaska. 

 When Denver reported a fourth strangulation in 1898, the New York Journal postulated that ten women in cities across the country had been murdered by the same Jack the Strangler. The first was Minnie Weldt, strangled in New York City in May 1894. The Strangler then went to Buffalo, New York, and murdered Josie Bennet that June. From there, to Cincinnati, where he strangled Mary Eckhart in July. In September, he arrived in Denver, and over the next three months, strangled Lena Tupper, Mary Contassolt, and Kiku Oyama. He took a year off, then surfaced in San Francisco, and between December 1895 and March 1896, he murdered Jessie Williams, Marie McDermott, and Bertha Paradis. After another hiatus, he returned to Denver and killed Julia Voght in October 1898. 

 This scenario is highly unlikely, but the first name on the list, Minnie Weldt, was linked to a series of New York City murders that would later be attributed to New York’s own Jack the Strangler. The New York press seldom used the name Jack the Strangler, but as the cases began to pile up, with similar circumstances and locations, it was hard to ignore the possibility of a single killer. The papers came up with many Strangler theories, but were never able to identify him.

 

Between 1894 and 1900, eight women living in New York’s Tenderloin district centered around 2^nd Avenue were strangled in their homes. Most were already known to the police as women of low moral character. Not one of these cases was ever solved:

 

New York Journal, August 24, 1900.

May 6, 1894 – Minnie Weldt, a 21-year-old washerwoman, with many male visitors, was found strangled with a handkerchief in her home at 224 E. 61^st Street.

May 31, 1896 – Mamie Cuningham, a girl of 13, was beaten and strangled with a towel in her home at 315 E. 67^th Street.

 

August 3, 1896 – Annie Bock, a 23-year-old “social outcast,” was beaten, strangled, and slashed in her home at 207 E 23^rd Street.

 

September 2, 1896 – Hannah Altman, aka “Dutch Annie,” a friend of Annie Bock, was strangled with a stocking in her home at 202 E. 29^th Street.

 

November 9, 1896 – Pauline Barnett, 24, was robbed and strangled in the rooms she was using for “immoral purposes” at 11 St. Marks Place

 

April 22, 1897 – “Diamond Flossie” Murphy, an opium addict, was strangled with a rope and robbed of $1,500 in jewelry

 

March 15, 1898 – Maggie Crowley, a 35-year-old woman with a drinking problem, was strangled and dragged to the courtyard outside her home at 27 Monroe Street

 

August 20, 1900 – Katy Scharn, a 24-year-old factory worker, who frequented a “cheap concert hall,” was strangled and beaten with a hammer at her home at 674 2^nd Avenue.

In coming weeks, Murder by Gaslight will take a closer look at these cases and try to determine if they all could have been victims of one single Jack the Strangler.

---

Sources:
“"Jack the Strangler",” The Akron Beacon Journal, October 29, 1894.
“Another Victim,” The Akron Beacon Journal, November 13, 1894.
“Darkness Sheds Light on Death,” New York journal and advertiser., April 24, 1897.
“Did He Strangle in Other Cities?,” New York journal and advertiser., May 15, 1897.
“Evidence That One "Jack the Strangler" Killed Kate Scharn and at Least 2 Others.,” New York Journal and Advertiser, August 23, 1900.
“Four Deaths Traceable to Hand of Strangler,” EVANSVILLE COURIER., November 15, 1901.
'Frisco Has a Jack the Strangler,” WATERTOWN DAILY TIMES., March 10, 1896.
“Has Denver a "Jack the Strangler"?,” The New York Times, November 14, 1894.
“His Mark,” The Cincinnati Enquirer, February 19, 1892.
Humboldt Herald, March 15, 1889.
“Is Still a Mystery,” Sun-Journal, August 24, 1900.
“Jack the Strangler,” The Lincoln Daily Sun, July 13, 1892.
“Jack the Strangler,” The Cleveland Leader, October 30, 1894.
“Jack the Strangler,” Green Bay Press-Gazette, November 13, 1894.
“Jack the Strangler,” New York Herald, March 28, 1896.
“Jack the Strangler Seizes Young Girls,” DETROIT TO DAY, November 25, 1902.
“Lincoln Price,” New York Journal and Advertiser, August 24, 1900.
“May be the Strangler Who Has Cruelly Murdered So Many Hapless Women,” New York Journal, March 16, 1898.
“Murderer of Four Women,” Akron daily Democrat., November 14, 1901.
“New Clews,” New York Journal and Advertiser, August 23, 1900.
“New York's Women Murder Mysteries of the Past,” New York Journal and Advertiser, August 20, 1900.
“Police Mystified by Murders,” EVANSVILLE JOURNAL-NEWS, November 15, 1901.
“Slain by Jack the Strangler,” The San Francisco Examiner, November 14, 1894.
“Strangler Gets Another Victim.,” New York Journal and Advertiser, October 9, 1898.
“Strangler Mark on Dead Woman's Neck,” New York evening journal., March 15, 1898.
“Stranglers of Women,” New York Herald, June 7, 1896.
“Strangler's Sign on a Child's Body,” New York journal and advertiser., June 17, 1897.
“The Denver Mystery,” The San Francisco Examiner, November 19, 1894.
“Victims of a Mysterious Strangler,” New York Journal, March 18, 1898.

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.

Maggie Crowley, Found Strangled.

Maggie Crowley
(New York American, March 16, 1898)

Robert Hoey, coming home from work in the early hours of March 15, 1898, literally tripped over the body of a dead woman in the courtyard of his New York City tenement. The woman had been strangled to death and dragged to the courtyard known in the neighborhood as “Hogan’s Alley.” Four days later, she was identified as Maggie Crowley, a young woman with a drinking problem. Four men were suspected, two were indicted, but no one was convicted.

Read the full story here: Murder Told in Pictures.

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.

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.

Harry and Catherine.

 

Harry and Catherine.
(Harry Hayward: Life, crimes, dying confession and execution of the Celebrated Minneapolis Criminal.)

Harry Hayward was a handsome young conman from a wealthy Minneapolis family. He persuaded Catherine Ging to make him beneficiary on a life insurance policy, then, on December 3, 1894, he lured her to her death. 

Read the full story here: The Minneapolis Svengali.

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.

Clara and Daniel.

 

("On Trial for Murder," Daily Inter Ocean, November 27, 1895.)

During a time of conflict between the Shanks family and the Keller family in rural Indiana, the body of 18-year-old Clara Shanks was found floating in Wolf Creek. Circumstantial evidence pointed to Daniel Keller, who had a clandestine romance with Clara.

Read the full story here: The Wolf Creek Tragedy.

So far From Home: The Pearl Bryan Murder.

 So far From Home: The Pearl Bryan Murder - Amazon, Audible.

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.

James and Sarah Jane.

 

James E. Eldredge and Sarah Jane Gould.
(The Trial of James E Eldredge )

James E. Eldredge left his home in Canton, New York in the spring of 1856. He returned six months later with a new name and a duplicitous personality to match. All those around him soon learned to distrust anything the young man said—all except his fiancé, Sarah Jane Gould. She remained trusting to the end, when Eldredge poisoned Sarah Jane to pursue her younger sister.

Read the full story here: James E. Eldredge.

Asked His Wife to Shoot Him.

Lourens Signourette and his wife lived near Foster’s Bar, a remote camp in the Yubas Foot Hills in California. Lourens had been ailing for quite a while, and on December 1, 1891, he decided to end his life by taking strychnine. The poison did not have the immediate effect that he wanted, so he asked his wife to get his shotgun and shoot him.

The Late Mr. Benjamin Nathan.

Harper's Weekly, August 20, 1870.

Benjamin Nathan, a wealthy stockbroker and philanthropist, was found brutally beaten to death in his Manhattan home the morning of July 29, 1870. Some jewelry and a small amount of cash were stolen, and the police were quick to rule the incident a burglary gone bad. But if so, how and when did the burglars enter? And how could four others staying in the house sleep through the violent attack? In fact, the Nathan murder looked more like a classic locked-room mystery—a mystery that remains unsolved.

Read the full story here:

Who Killed Benjamin Nathan?

The Crosby Street Murder.

At around 6:30, the morning of February 4, 1877, the residents of Crosby Street in New York City were alarmed by a woman’s shriek. Many were preparing for church that Sunday morning, and from their windows, they watched the woman, barefoot, wearing just a skirt and a thin chemise, run across the street, pursued by a man wielding what appeared to be a long iron spike. She ran to the house at 52 Crosby Street, screaming, “Open the door; for the blessed Virgin’s sake, open the door.”

Frank and Christie.

Frank Almy and Christie Warden.
(Life, Trial, and Confession of Frank C. Almy, Laconia, N.H.: J.J. Lane, 1891.)

While working as a farmhand in Hanover, New Hampshire, career criminal Frank Almy (aka George Abbott) fell in love with the farmer’s daughter, Christie Warden. When Christie did not return his love Abbot went back to his old ways and took it at gunpoint in the shady hollow known as the Vale of Tempe.

Read the full story here: Murder in the Vale of Tempe.

Murderous Christmas Celebrations.

Murder never pauses for Christmas; it is all too often an unwelcome guest at Yuletide parties.

Here are a few murderous nineteenth-century American Christmas "celebrations." 

	Two Shots, a Shriek. “A dark, mean little bedroom, a woman, half-undressed, dirty and pale, and blear-eyed from long excesses, a male companion, leaning over her with a revolver at her head, two shots, a shriek, an ugly hole under the ear, and the vice and crime of Boston had added another murder to its long score.”  - The Boston Herald’s vivid description of the murder of Josephine Brown on Christmas Eve, 1891.
	It was Santa Claus' Fault. On Christmas Eve, 1889, chaos ensued at a  Shawneetown, Illinois, Christmas party, when the tags fell off some of the presents and were replaced haphazardly.  The room erupted into a free fight with chairs, clubs, knives, and pistols. it looked as though several combatants would be killed, but none of the wounds proved fatal. A Christmas miracle.
	Mrs. Southern's Sad Case. At a Pickens County, Georgia Christmas party in 1876, Kate Southern warned her husband not to dance with his mistress, Narcissa Cowan, and she warned Narcissa to stay away from her husband. When they danced together anyway Kate borrowed her father's pocketknife and plunged it into Narcissa's chest.
	That Bad Man Stagolee. Troubadours have sung the story of Stagolee for over a hundred years. Each singer seems to know a different version and tell a different story of its origin. But the story is true. The legend was born when Stack Lee Shelton shot Billy Lyons, in a fight over a Stetson hat, in Bill Curtis's Saloon, on Christmas night 1895.
	Delia's Gone, One More Round. On Christmas Eve 1900, Cooney Houston shot and killed Delia Green. If that isn’t tragic enough, they were both 14 years old. Their sad story would have been long forgotten, even in Yamacraw – the black neighborhood in the western end of Savannah, Georgia, where the killing took place – if it hadn’t been for a song. The ballad of Delia’s murder traveled from Georgia to the Bahamas, then back to the States during the folk boom of the 1950s.

The Just End of a Monster of Iniquity.

 

Dr. Thomas Neill Cream, “The Lambeth Poisoner” and possible Jack the Ripper suspect, was hanged at Newgate Prison in London on November 15, 1892. Dr. Cream had already been convicted of murder by strychnine in the United States. In fact, if he had not been released early from Chicago’s Joliet Prison, four young London women would have been spared excruciating death. 

Read the full story here:  The Lambeth Poisoner.