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.

The woman did not try to escape. She put the pistol, a small, Sharps four-barrel revolver, back in her pocket. When the authorities came for her, she gave her name as Louise E. Devlin, from Janesville, Wisconsin. She said that she killed Burroughs because he failed to redeem his promise of marriage to her and married another. He had not seduced her, she said, and added forcefully, “As God is my witness, I am virtuous!”

When in custody, her story changed. Her name was Mary Harris; she was 19 years old, and she had come to Washington from Chicago. The deceased had betrayed her, taken her from her home and friends, and placed her in a house of ill fame in Chicago.

Mary Harris first met A.J. Burroughs at her parents' house in Burlington, Iowa. She was 12 years old, and he was 27. Mary was very fond of Burroughs and would sit on his lap when he came to visit. They became very close, and as she grew older, his attentions took on the character of a suitor. Her parents were opposed to the relationship, not just because of the age difference but because they felt his family was too high for her. Burroughs was from a wealthy family; her parents were poor Irish immigrants.

Burroughs left Burlington and moved to Chicago. In 1863, he wrote to Mary that he was raising a company of men to fight for the Union and expected to get a commission. He requested that she come to Chicago and arranged for her to stay with Miss Louisa Devlin, a friend of his who ran a store where she could work.  Mary defied her parents and moved to Chicago.

Burroughs broke his ankle and was unable to go to war with his company. He maintained a correspondence with Mary, whom he affectionately called “Dear Little Mollie” or “Dear little Rosebud.” He would close his letters affectionately—“With a cart-load of kisses I bid you adieu.”

She sent him a photograph of herself, and he was overjoyed to receive it:

Oh! that beautiful picture! beautiful! beautiful! beautiful! and my beautiful! beautiful! Mollie!...Oh! Mollie, Mollie! you have turned my dry, sterile, old bachelor heart into a gushing fountain of glad emotion and warm, gentle affection; and Mollie, dearest daring Mollie, is the source and end of all.

He wrote that he “…could enjoy life with a certain little black-eyed, curly-haired, mischief-loving girl.” Mary, understandingly, believed that they were engaged to be married.

Then the letters stopped. Mary learned that he had married another woman without telling her and moved to Washington, D.C. She was devastated. She could not return to Burlington because her parents disowned her, thinking she was living in sin with Burroughs. So, she remained in Chicago with Miss Devlin.

In September 1864, Mary began receiving letters from J.B. Greenwood, a man she did not know, professing love for her. Though the handwriting was disguised, she believed the letters were from A.J. Burroughs. He asked to meet her at a house which Mary knew to be “the most notorious in Chicago.” She did not go at the appointed time, but later went to the house with Louisa Devlin’s sister Jane. They showed the lady of the house a photograph of Burroughs, and she recognized the man. He had been there the previous Friday to meet a woman named Harris, waited several hours, then left.

Mary did not know what to make of this, and she fell into a state of despair. She lost weight and became pale and yellow-looking. Sometimes she had violent outbursts or prolonged crying jags. Mary hired a lawyer and sued Burroughs for breach of promise.

Not content to wait for the outcome, Mary left in January for Washington, where she knew Burroughs was working as a clerk in the office of the Comptroller of the Currency. Before leaving Chicago, she purchased the pistol.

After several postponements, the trial of Mary Harris for murder began in July 1865. There was no question that Mary killed Burroughs, but the defense claimed she suffered from paroxysmal insanity and was not in her right mind when she did it. Citing an earlier Washington murder case, the trial of Daniel Sickles for murder, they claimed Mary had acted while temporarily insane.

Over the prosecution's objections, the defense introduced Burroughs’s letters to Mary to show how he had played with her emotions, deceiving her and inciting her insanity. At least ten of his letters were read in court and had a great effect on the jury. They found Mary Harris not guilty.

For the most part, the public was satisfied with the verdict. However, newspapers were critical. The New York World said, "...if she be insane, then are nine-tenths of all women crazy, and furthermore, that this plea of insanity is seriously interfering with the workings of justice.” This sentiment was echoed by newspapers across the nation.

Following the trial, it was reported that Mary Harris moved to Richmond, Virginia. She worked as a milliner, “and has apparently quite recovered from her insanity.”  

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Sources: 

“A. G. Burroughs,” Alexandria Gazette, January 31, 1865.
“Exciting Tragedy,” Daily Morning Chronicle, January 31, 1865.
“The Harris-Borrough Tragedy,” World, February 3, 1865.
“The Harris-Burroughs Affair,” World, February 11, 1865.
“The Harris-Burroughs Tragedy,” World, February 4, 1865.
“Homicide by a Woman,” New-York Daily Tribune., January 31, 1865.
“The Mary Harris Trial,” EVENING STAR, July 11, 1865.
“The Mary Harris Trial,” EVENING STAR, July 12, 1865.
“The Mary Harris Trial,” EVENING STAR, July 20, 1865.
“The Mary Harris Trial,” World, September 16, 1865.
“Mary Harris' Trial,” The New York Herald, July 20, 1865.
“Tragedy in the Treasury Department,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, February 18, 1865.
“The Trial of Mary J. Harris,” Daily Morning Chronicle, July 11, 1865.
“Trial of Miss Mary Harris for the Murder of A.J. Burroughs,” Daily National Republican, July 10, 1865.
“Trial of Miss Mary Harris for Murder,” National Intelligencer, July 4, 1865.
“The Washington Tragedy,” The New York Herald, February 2, 1865.
“The Woman Harris,” World, July 25, 1865.

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.

Captain McDonnell of the Eighth Precinct came to view the body and proclaimed that he believed she had committed suicide, first by strangling herself with the pillowcase, then beating her head with a weapon of some kind.

Annie Downey—aka Annie Martin; aka “Curly Tommy” – was said to be of unsound mind and had previously attempted to take her own life. She possessed a violent and hysterical temper, which, when excited, took a suicidal tendency.

The detectives handling the case did not share their captain’s view. Downey’s gold watch and chain were missing, suggesting that she was murdered during a robbery. Her diamond ring and other jewelry were still there, so the watch could have been taken to mislead the police. The detectives favored the theory that she had been murdered by a jealous lover. Over the previous few weeks, Downey had changed her abode several times, as if trying to escape someone.

Though the early accounts of the murder downplayed it, the house at 111 Prince Street was a brothel. The owner, Mrs. Blanche Schmidt, known as Madame Blanche, rented furnished rooms where local prostitutes plied their trade. Annie Downey led a life of shame for the past six years and had been arrested several times for intoxication and disorderly conduct.

Mrs. Schmidt told police that six men had called on Downey on the day of her death. The only one she saw was a man who came in at about 6:00.

“He was speaking so rough that I was afraid of him,” she said, “I looked through the door into the front parlor where he and Annie were standing. He asked her if she had pistols in the house; at that I got frightened and called out ‘Annie, what is the matter?’ He again asked if there was a pistol. I said, ‘My God! Don’t speak so, you frighten me by talking about pistols.’ I don’t remember having seen the man before, he was middling tall, I should judge he was between thirty-four and thirty-seven years of age, but he may have been younger, he was stout—rather of medium build; his hair, eyes and moustache appeared to be dark, he seemed to me to be an Irishman. Annie answered, ‘Oh, Mrs. Blanche, he said that for fun, he didn’t mean it.'”

Annie took him upstairs to her room. Half an hour later, she came down and told Mrs. Schmidt that the man would be back later to spend the night. No one in the house heard the man come back in or leave the house that night.

Captain McDonnell held on to the suicide theory for as long as he could, but the results of the autopsy put an end to it. Her death resulted from asphyxia from strangulation, hastened by four scalp wounds from a weapon, possibly the butt of a pistol. The coroner concluded that they could not have been self-inflicted. He began an inquest but suspended it until the police could find a suspect.

The New York press was comparing the case to the murder of Helen Jewett, a prostitute who had been murdered in her bed 44 years earlier. However, in that case, the prime suspect came to light quickly. There were no suspects in Annie Downey’s murder, and very little evidence to go on.

On January 20, a man answering the description of the man who visited Downey was arrested in Newtown, Long Island. He was a Swede named Johnsen, a tramp, with a scratch on his face and blood on his shirt. Captain McDonnell took several inmates of 111 Prince to Newtown to look at Johnsen. None of them recognized him, and Johnsen was released. 

In further investigation of the murder room, police determined that 111 Prince was not just a brothel; it was a “panel house.” This means that the rooms had hidden panels where a confederate could sneak into the room while the prostitute was in bed with her client and steal his wallet. This provided another possible motive and another means of escape for the killer.

On January 27, the police arrested another suspect. They tried to keep the information secret and requested that the newspaper refrain from naming him. Most complied, but the New York Tribune identified the man as Edward Timm. Captain McDonnell took Timm to 111 Prince, where the inmates recognized him as the man they had seen on the afternoon of the murder. Timm, a married man, denied he had been to the house and denied any knowledge of Annie Downey. However, his mother-in-law, upon hearing of Downey’s death, said it was a good thing because her daughter's husband would no longer run after her.

The inquest restarted, and after a day of testimony, the coroner’s jury returned the following verdict: “We find that the death of Annie Downey was a homicide, and consider the evidence sufficient to hold the prisoner, Edward Timm, for trial.”

It looked as though the case was nearly closed, but in February, Captain McDonnell received some surprises that affected the prosecution of the case.

Edward Timm hired the law firm of Howe and Hummell, the most effective criminal lawyers in New York. William Howe applied to the New York Supreme Court for a writ of habeas corpus. He believed that there was not enough evidence to hold his client. Justice Lawrence of the Supreme Court agreed and released Timm from custody.

On February 2, Inspector Dilks served papers against Captain McDonnell on the charge of permitting disorderly houses to flourish in his precinct. Twenty houses were specified in the charge, including 111 Prince Street, which was “within a biscuit toss of the station house.” Additionally, Detective John Murphy of the Eighth Precinct stood trial for extorting money from the houses. The Schmidts moved out of 111 Prince Street, and the house was closed.

The Downey murder case languished for the next 19 months. Then, in September 1881, some new clues came to light. The missing watch was found in a pawnshop, and a witness emerged who said Annie Downey had been married. The husband, he said, was “a worthless, good-for-nothing fellow” who lived off his wife’s earnings. He had a key to her room, and he visited that night. While the police were confident that the case was nearly solved, nothing came of these clues either.

There were no other revelations, and by 1890, the Annie Downey case was mentioned in newspaper articles as an example of an unsolved New York murder.

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Sources: 

“Annie Downey's Death,” New York Herald, January 29, 1880.
“Annie Downey's Murder,” New York Herald, February 4, 1880.
“Annie Downie's Death,” New York Herald, January 20, 1880.
“Arrest in the Case of Annie Downey,” Evening Post, January 28, 1880.
“Captain M'Donnell to be Tried,” New York Herald, February 3, 1880.
“Clearing Up the Mystery,” Sun., January 28, 1880.
“Coming To Light At Last,” Truth, September 27, 1881.
“Crimes Against Life,” New-York Tribune, January 28, 1880.
“The Death of Annie Downey,” Evening Post, January 19, 1880.
“The Death of Annie Downey,” Evening Post, January 29, 1880.
“Light on a Murder,” New York Herald, September 23, 1881.
“The Murder of Annie Downey,” New-York Tribune., January 22, 1880.
“Murdered in Bed,” New York Herald, January 18, 1880.
“Mysteries of the Morgue,” CHICAGO DAILY NEWS., December 3, 1890.
“New York City,” New-York Tribune., January 21, 1880.
“Murdered Annie Downey,” Sun., January 21, 1880.
“The Prince Street Tragedy,” New York Herald, January 19, 1880.
“Still Seeking a Clew,” New York Herald, January 25, 1880.
“Tim Held for the Grand Jury,” New York Herald, January 30, 1880.
“Tim Set Free by Judge Lawrence,” New-York Tribune, February 4, 1880.
“Trial of Detective Murphy,” New York Herald, May 11, 1880.

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.

A Honeymoon Tragedy.

Around 3:00, on the afternoon of June 15, 1886, a bellboy heard gunshots while responding to a prolonged ring from room 25 on the second floor of the Sturtevant House in New York City. No one answered his knocks, and the door was locked. He heard groans coming from inside and, together with the hotel carpenter, they burst into the room.

The occupants, a man and a woman, both lay on the floor, their heads upon pillows. They had both been shot but were still alive. The man was holding a revolver. George Hutty, the carpenter, was the first to approach the pair. He raised the man’s head and said, “Why have you done this?”

“Please go for a doctor, quick,”  was the response.

“Tell me why you did this,” Hutty said again.

“Get a doctor, I tell you,” said the man. He refused to say another word.

They sent for an ambulance, but the woman, who had been shot through the back of the head, died before it arrived. The doctors turned their attention to the man. He had wounds to the head and breast. They took him by ambulance to the New York Hospital, but thought he was unlikely to survive.

The couple was Winfield B. Thompson and his wife, Genevieve, both in their early twenties. They were newlyweds on their honeymoon, and after touring New England, they stopped in New York. They were to leave for Philadelphia the following day, before traveling to Mr. Thompson’s home in Kansas City.

For the past two years, Winfield had been studying medicine in New York. That summer, he had the position of surgeon on board a steamer that traveled between New York and Boston. He met Genivieve Kahler at the Stern Brothers department store, where she was in charge of the hat department. They were married on June 2.

The marriage had been somewhat clandestine. No one in Kansas City knew that Thompson was married, and even a friend in New York, whom he saw frequently, was surprised to learn about it. Genivieve’s family learned about it after the wedding. Winfield’s father, Dr. C.L. Thompson, pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church in Kansas City, who was preparing to vacation in Europe, learned of the marriage when he learned of his son’s death.

Those who knew Winfield in Kansas City believed he was still engaged to a woman named Jennie, first reported as the adopted daughter of Phillip Armour, owner of the Armour meat-packing company. Phillip Armour clarified that she was not his adopted daughter, but a young lady who lived, for a time, with his brother’s family in Kansas City. The brother was to accompany Dr. Thompson on his trip to Europe.

Winfield stopped writing to Jennie after he met Genivieve. When he moved out of his boarding house on June 2, he left behind a package to be mailed to Kansas City. On the outside, he wrote:

Dear Jennie—I send you back all your letters. I have kept nothing. Now all is over between us. Yours, WIN.

Genivieve Kahler left her parents’ home after a quarrel four years earlier. She boarded with Mrs. D.B. Pratt, who also worked at Stern Brothers. Mrs. Pratt met the couple at the hotel at 10:00 on the morning of the murder. The three went shopping together, and at one point, Winfield went off alone, saying he would meet them at 1:30. According to Mrs. Pratt, this was when he purchased the revolver. They lunched at the hotel, and Mrs. Pratt left around 2:40. She said the couple appeared to be in a loving mood. Less than half an hour later, the Thompsons were dead.

The motive for the murder/suicide remained a mystery. One theory said that Winfield was so afraid of telling his father about the marriage that he decided to kill them both. Another said that he was in dire financial straits and did not want to tell his wife he could not deliver the luxuries he promised. G.S. Yard, a close friend of Winfield's, doubted that he would act out of fear. He believed that Winfield had accidentally shot his wife, then shot himself out of grief.

There were reasons to doubt this theory as well. The autopsy revealed that Genivieve had been shot in the head twice. Coroner Levy interviewed Winfield at the hospital before he died, but he refused to give a reason.

“What was the cause of the shooting?” Mr. Levy inquired.

“I would rather not tell,”  he replied.

“Was it intentional?”

“So far as the shooting of myself was concerned, yes.”

“Did you shoot your wife by accident?”

“I don’t know why I did it.”

He died soon after. The cause of the tragedy remains a mystery.

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Sources: 

“About the Bride's Coffin,” New York Herald, June 17, 1886.
“A Clandestine Marriage,” TOLEDO BLADE, June 16, 1886.
“A Domestic Tragedy,” Rockford Daily Register, June 16, 1886.
“A Honeymoon Tragedy,” New York Herald, June 16, 1886.
“Thompson Refuses To Talk,” New-York Tribune, June 17, 1886.
“Thompson's Murder Suicide,” National Police Gazette, December 4, 1886.
“Winfield B. Thompson,” Evening Post, June 16, 1886.
“A Young Husband's Crime,” New York Tribune, June 16, 1886.