Undue Religious Excitement.

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, March 28, 1868.

Robert Sprague, a normally peaceful man, was spending a quiet evening with his family in their home in Jasper, Iowa, on February 17, 1868. He was reading the Bible with his mother, wife, and children when his 70-year-old mother asked him a question in relation to a religious meeting the night before. 

At the previous night’s meeting, Sprague had acted strangely. It was not specified exactly what he did, but it caused others there to believe he was “laboring under a deranged mind.”

Sprague’s 13-year-old daughter replied to her grandmother’s question, hoping to defuse its effect on her father. It was too late. His mother’s question had triggered Sprague to spring to his feet and threaten to kill her. She ran to the door but fell as she was leaving the house. Sprague leaped on his mother and began choking her while his wife and children tried to pull him off.

When she was dead, Sprague stood up, and in a moment of clarity, he realized he was out of control. “Send for Baumer to tie me,” he said to his wife, referring to his neighbor. Then he told her to take the children and leave at once. She did as he ordered.

The police came soon after and arrested Sprague. There is no record of what happened to Robert Sprague after his arrest, a fact which artificial intelligence reluctantly confirmed (see “Why I Hate A.I.”) It was believed that Sprague suffered from insanity caused by "undue religious excitement." He was probably committed to an insane asylum without a trial.

---

Sources: 

“Crimes and Casualties,” Troy Daily Times., March 3, 1868.
“In Jasper, Iowa,” Nashville Union and Dispatch., February 29, 1868.
“A Man Murders his Mother in the Presence of his Wife and Children,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, March 28, 1868.
“A Man Murders his mother in the Presence of His Wife and Children,” Chicago Tribune., February 25, 1868.

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.

Why I Hate A.I.

Artificial Intelligence would be an excellent tool for historical research, but for one flaw – it does not distinguish between fact and guesswork. 

I was researching Robert Sprague, who murdered his mother in Jasper County, Iowa, in 1868, and I could not find any information on his trial and sentencing. I decided to ask Grok, which very confidently returned a quite detailed answer, concluding with this:

"On November 3, 1868, Judge H. S. Winslow sentenced Sprague to life imprisonment at hard labor in the Iowa State Penitentiary in Fort Madison. He was transported there shortly after and served his sentence without notable appeals or pardons recorded in state archives. Sprague died in prison in 1902 from natural causes related to age and health decline."

It sounded good, but I won’t post anything without specific references. I went back to Grok and asked, “What is the source for Sprague's trial information?”

Grok responded with two book titles. Both were available online, but neither had any reference to Robert Sprague. I went back a third time and said, “These references do not contain information on Robert Sprague. Please provide specific sources.” To which Grok responded:

"Upon further investigation using digitized historical archives, genealogical databases, and period-specific resources, I was unable to locate verifiable primary or secondary sources confirming the details of Robert Sprague's arrest, trial, conviction, or imprisonment for the alleged 1868 murder in Jasper County, Iowa. Searches across 19th-century Iowa court records, local histories, newspaper archives (including Chronicling America and Newspapers.com), and penitentiary registers yielded no mentions of this individual or case."

Apparently, the first answer was a guess, cobbled together from historical information gathered using the time and place provided, without finding any actual information about the Sprague case. It then presented its guess as fact. I had to ask three times before Grok admitted that it did not know what it was talking about. 

Now, more than ever, do not trust anything on the internet that you can’t verify independently. 

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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.

Portraits of Helen Jewett.

Helen (Ellen) Jewett was an upscale New York City prostitute. In 1836, her clients included politicians, lawyers, and wealthy merchants. One of them, a young clerk named Richard Robinson, wanted Helen all to himself. When she refused, he killed her with an axe and set fire to her bed. 

Robinson’s trial divided the city. While most were anxious to see the murderer punished, a large contingent of young men applauded Robinson’s acquittal. This division was mirrored in portraits of Helen Jewett on prints and on book covers, depicting her as a beautiful victim or an evil seductress.

Read the full story here: Helen Jewett - The Girl in Green.

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.

The Walworth Parricide, in New York.

 Read the full story here: The Walworth Patricide.

Bloody Century Sample Stories.

 The Bloody Century

The Madison County Murderer.

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, March 28, 1868.

George Stotler went to Jacob Eisnagle’s house in Anderson, Indiana, on the afternoon of March 7, 1868. He wanted to borrow a horse so he could ride to a Masonic funeral. Eisnagle’s sons, William, age 18, and Issac, 16, told him he couldn’t borrow the horse because they planned to use it that day. This made Stotler angry and, before leaving, swore vengeance against the family.

He returned at around 7:00 that evening, burst into the house, and began verbally abusing the family, especially Eisnagle’s two daughters. William stepped up and confronted Stotler. Their mother held on to Isaac to prevent him from entering the fray. During the scuffle, Stotler drew a pocketknife and stabbed William in the chest four times. The blade penetrated his heart, and he died instantly. Then, pushing Mrs. Eisnagle aside, he grabbed Isaac, threw him on the bed, stabbed and killed him as well. 

Youthful Killers.

Murder knows no age limit, and some of the most sensational murders in the 19th century were committed by teenagers. Often, their victims were abusive parents, but young killers were as likely as adults to murder anyone standing in their way. In at least one case, a serial killer was stopped before he could reach his full potential. 

Here are a few cases featuring Murder by Gaslight’s youthful killers:

 

	Horrible Murder in Twelfth Street. Alfred Buchanan - age 19. Mrs. Sarah Shancks was found dead in her millinery store in New York City on December 7, 1860. She had been brutally beaten and slashed, her throat cut so deeply she was nearly decapitated. 19-year-old Alfred Buchanan was indicted for the murder, but before his trial, he was pronounced insane and committed to the state lunatic asylum.
	"Girl Slays Girl." Alice Mitchell - Age 19. Alice Mitchell and her 17-year-old schoolmate, Freda Ward, declared love for each other and planned to elope to St. Louis to live together as husband and wife. When Freda’s family stopped the relationship, Alice Mitchel met Freda Ward on the street and cut her throat with a straight razor.
	Orrin De Wolf. Orrin De Wolf - Age 18. In 1844, Orrin De Wolf boarded at the home of William Stiles in Worcester, Massachusetts. He fell in love with Stiles’s young wife, Eliza Ann. De Wolf strangled Stiles with a silk handkerchief, hoping to steal his landlord’s wife.  Instead, he was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison.
	The Murdered Congressman. Thomas Hamilton - age 18. U.S. Congressman Cornelius S. Hamilton returned to Marysville, Ohio, because his son Thomas was experiencing mental problems. He was preparing to send Thomas to an asylum, but when he went to the barn for some feed, Thomas hit him in the back of the head with a fence post, fracturing his skull and killing him instantly.
	Another Boy Murderer.  Francis J. Kelley - age 17. In 1883, Francis Kelly, of Rockport, Indiana, decided that farmwork was not for him. He took a job with a man trading illicit liquor from a boat. After an argument over his share of the profits, Kelly shot the man in the head and burned his boat. He was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison.
	Shot by Her Stepson. Thomas McCabe - age 16, Thomas McCabe enjoyed life in New York City but did not like the discipline of school or his parents.  He decided to rob his parents and leave town, and in the process, he shot and killed his stepmother. McCabe was easily captured and convicted of second-degree murder.
	Jesse Pomeroy - "Boston Boy Fiend." Jessie Harding Pomeroy - age 14. In 1874, Jessie Pomeroy of Boston, Massachusetts, murdered 10-year-old Katie Curran and 4-year-old Horace Millen. He had previously assaulted and tortured several other children. Pomeroy was captured and convicted of first-degree murder. He spent the next 53 years in prison.
	Delia's Gone, One More Round. Moses "Cooney" Houston - age 14. In Savannah, Georgia, on Christmas Eve 1900, the tail end of the 19th Century, Moses “Cooney” Houston shot and killed his 14-year-old girlfriend, Delia Green. The murder of Deila Green was the source of the folk song “Delia’s Gone,” still sung 125 years later.
	A Boy Murderer. John Wesley Elkins - age 11. Around 2 a.m. on July 24, 1889, John Wesley Elkins went into his parents' room and shot his father in the head with a rifle. Then he beat his mother to death with a club. He did it because he was unhappy about having to take care of his infant half-sister and wanted to go off on his own. Elkins served twelve years of a life sentence for murder.

The Bloody Century Audiobooks.

Listen to a sample from The Bloody Century audiobook.

Listen to a sample chapter from The Bloody Century 2 audiobook.

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.

Dr. John W. Hughes.

Dr. John W. Hughes was a restless, intemperate man whose life never ran smoothly. When his home life turned sour, he found love with a woman half his age. Then, he lost her through an act of deception, and in a fit of drunken rage, Dr. Hughes killed his one true love.

Read the full story here: The Bedford Murder.

The Mysterious Murder.

A boatman working near the foot of Little Street in Brooklyn, on October 3, 1864, saw a package floating on the water. Thinking it might contain something of value, he took it into his boat. He unraveled the enameled oilcloth surrounding the package, and inside, covered in sheets of brown paper, was the trunk of a human body. The head, arms, pelvis, and legs had been cut off with a saw or sharp knife, as if by a butcher.  The clothing had not been removed. He took the package to the 42^nd Police Precinct.

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.

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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.
 

The Acquital of Joseph A. Blair.

Joseph Blair of Montclair, New Jersey, had a vicious argument with his coachman, John Armstrong, on June 26, 1879. Blair was angry that someone had seen his wagon in front of a beer saloon, and he went to the stable to confront Armstrong. Armstrong said it was none of Blair’s business where he went. As the argument grew belligerent, Armstrong told Blair that if he came into the stable again, he would blow his brains out. Blair was heard to respond, “When a man tells me he will shoot, I can be the first to shoot.”

Later that night, Blair returned to the stable with a pistol in his pocket. They argued again, and Blair followed Armstrong when he went up to his room above the stable. Two minutes later, a gunshot was heard, and Armstrong was dead.

A coroner’s jury charged Blair with manslaughter. However, after 2,000 workingmen held a rally protesting the light charge against Blair for killing one of their peers, the prosecution, led by the New Jersey Attorney General, raised the charge to first-degree murder.

Joseph Blair’s trial lasted seventeen days, with three days of impassioned closing arguments for and against his conviction of first-degree murder.  When the jury returned a verdict of not guilty, Blair appeared utterly dazed for a moment, then fell over the pile of law books on the table and sobbed loudly.

Read the full story here: The Murdered Coachman.

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Illustration from Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, November 8, 1879.

Life, Crimes, and Conviction of Lydia Sherman.

When the press learned that Lydia Sherman had poisoned three husbands and eight children, they called her “The Arch Murderess of Connecticut,” “The Modern Borgia,” and “The Poison Fiend.”

Read the full story here: The Poison Fiend.

The Harris-Burroughs Affair.

 

A young woman entered the Treasury Building in Washington, D.C. on the afternoon of January 30, 1865. She went to the office of the Comptroller of the Currency and opened the door just enough to peek in and see the clerks at work. After locating the man she sought, she closed the door and waited in the hall for his workday to end.

The man, A.J. Burroughs (Adoniram Judson, sometimes reported as Andrew Jackson), left the office at 4:00. He hadn’t gone more than three feet when he heard the crack of a pistol. Realizing that he had been shot, he turned around to see the female form standing in the hall. “Oh!” he exclaimed and hurried toward the stairway. A second shot rang out, and he fell to the floor. His comrades, thinking he had fainted, rushed to his aid. They conveyed him to a room nearby where he died fifteen minutes later.

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.

Some Very Cold Cases.

In 2014, Murder by Gaslight posted Unsolved, a collection of 19^th-century murders that had never been fully explained. The list included some famous cases, including the murders of Andrew and Abby Borden, Carrie Brown, Benjamin Nathan, as well as several other homicides that were never prosecuted.

Since then, Murder by Gaslight has posted many more murder cases that were never solved. Either the evidence was too thin to charge the prime suspect, or the entire case was shrouded in mystery. Here are a few of Murder by Gaslight’s very cold cases:

	The Assassination of Corlis. On March 20, 1843, Charles G. Corlis was shot outside of the bowling saloon he owned in New York City. Witnesses saw someone running from the scene—maybe a man, maybe a woman, maybe a man dressed as a woman. Suspicion fell on Henry Colton because Corlis was having an affair with his wife, Hannah. The police arrested both Coltons, but Henry had an alibi, and no one could say conclusively that the woman in question was Hannah. The Coltons were released from custody, and no one was ever charged with the murder.
	A Shrewd Rascal. Samuel Smith and his wife Emma appeared to the world as a happy and affectionate young couple. She was pretty and vivacious with a dazzling wardrobe, and he was energetic with a winning personality. But beneath the surface was a hidden turmoil that did not come to light until 1885, when Emma was found dead in their Chicago apartment, her head blown apart by a shotgun blast. Samuel Smith was the prime suspect, but he left Chicago and was never seen again.
	The Snell Murder. In the wee hours of February 8, 1888, burglars broke into the mansion of Amos J. Snell, one of the wealthiest men in Chicago. They went straight to Snell’s office and opened his safe and a strong box, but when they did not find the fortune they expected, they went upstairs and began gathering silver items. Snell heard them in the parlor and fired his pistol through the closed door. The thieves fired back, killing Snell. Despite a large reward and a massive manhunt leading to more than 1,000 arrests, no one was charged with Snell’s murder.
	The Maggie Hourigan Mystery. The body of Maggie Hourigan was found floating in a pool of water on October 20, 1889. Dr. S. Walter Scott performed a hasty autopsy and concluded she had committed suicide. No one who knew her believed that Maggie had killed herself, and a second autopsy discovered a wound on the side of her head, indicating that she was dead or unconscious when she entered the water. With no other suspects, the New York Sun implied that Dr. Scott may have come to a false conclusion to hide his own involvement in the murder. He sued the Sun for libel and received a settlement. The true circumstances of Maggie Hourigan’s death remain a mystery.
	The Mysteries of Mary Tobin. On May 12, 1889, the janitor of the Clifton Boat Club on Staten Island found the body of Mary Tobin floating in the water. The police suspected suicide. Perhaps she had been seduced and betrayed and had drowned herself to hide her shame. But the coroner found no evidence of pregnancy or abortion. He found no marks of violence and no trace of poison. Mary Tobin’s life was filled with mystery; she was engaged to be married but also contemplating joining a convent. The final mystery of Mary Tobin’s life—did she die by murder, suicide, or accident—has never been solved.
	The Stillwell Murder. Fannie Stillwell told police that around 2:00 am on December 30, 1889, she heard a disturbance and got up to find her husband, Amos, lying in a pool of blood, with a terrible gash in his head. Amos Stillwell was one of the wealthiest men in Hannibal, Missouri, and his wife was 30 years younger than he was. The police investigation was futile, but a year later, when Fannie Stillwell married her physician, Dr. Hearne, the couple became the prime suspects. Dr. Hearn was tried and found not guilty; charges against Fannie were effectively dropped as well. The people of Hannibal would remain appalled that one of their most prominent residents could be murdered without retribution.
	15 Corning Street. The strangulation of Alice Brown in her room at 15 Corning Street in Boston’s South End dominated the front page of the city’s daily newspapers in the autumn of 1897. The Boston newspapers aggressively followed clues and gathered background, hoping to scoop each other and the police in their vivid reporting of the crime. In the end, they may have been too aggressive, adding more confusion than clarity. The case was muddled with rumor and innuendo, but not enough evidence to indict anyone. It remains one of the city’s unsolved mysteries.
	The Medford Mystery. 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. The mystery was never resolved.