A Cursed Murderer in Lowell, Mass.

William H. Devlin
(Illustrated Police News, December 22, 1877)

Shortly after noon on Monday, December 10, 1877, a man entered the Lowell, Massachusetts, Police Station in a highly excited state. He told Deputy Marshal Favor that he had heard a terrible fight between a husband and wife Saturday night in a tenement on Common Street. Since then, he had heard nothing from the house, and he feared the wife might be injured. Favor paid little attention; such reports were not unusual, but he sent officers Harris and McCaffrey to investigate.

The officers went to the home of William and Ellen Devlin and found the door locked. After receiving no response to their knocks, they broke it open. Inside, they were shocked to find a woman lying on the bedroom floor, battered and wounded, blood oozing from a deep gash behind her left ear, and her whole face was swollen and distorted, all indicating an agonizing death. On her breast, an infant lay dead, its neck and face showing signs of brutal treatment. 

The Devlins had three other children: a boy, 10, a girl, 7, and a boy, 5, who the police found at their grandmother’s house. They were reluctant to speak of the assault, but after a meal at the police station, they told what had happened. On Saturday, their mother, Ellen Devlin, suffered from a toothache. She went to Sheldon & Rodliff’s grocery store and borrowed twenty-five cents on her husband’s account to have her tooth extracted. When their father, William Devlin, heard this, he was livid. He believed she had borrowed the money to buy alcohol. William was drunk, himself, when he came home that night, and he began to berate and threaten his wife. Their argument quickly came to blows when he punched her above the right eye. He threw her on the floor, kicked her, and began jumping on her. She gained her feet as soon as possible and, grabbing the baby, started upstairs. He threw her down again and dragged her into the bedroom. He beat her with a piece of wood, poured water on her head, stabbed her in the neck with a butcher knife, and then covered her with a few old dresses. The children were crying to see their mother so abused. William told them to keep quiet, or he would kill them. 

Discovery of the Bodies.
(Illustrated Police News, December 22, 1877)

He went out again and then returned with his friend James Devlin. James, who was not related to William, told the police that William invited him to his house on Saturday night for some oysters. He heard Mrs. Devlin moaning, and when he asked about it, Williams said she was just drunk. James could tell there was some trouble in the family and did not stay, but he knew nothing about the assault.

On Sunday, William went out, locking the children in the house. During the day, the oldest boy, John Devlin, uncovered his mother’s face and could see she was dead. When their father returned, the baby was crying. William tried feeding it, but when that failed to quiet the infant, he covered its head with the bedclothes and smothered it to death.

Monday morning, William gave John ten cents to buy the children candy. He said to go to his grandmother’s and say that his mother was dead, but to say nothing of the row between their mother and father. When the children left, he locked all the doors and windows.

William went to an attorney’s office to collect $20 pension that he was owed. Then he walked to the North Chelmsford train station and bought a ticket to Ayer, Massachusetts. There, he bought a ticket to Rutland, Vermont. When the police learned he had a sister in Rutland, they were able to trace his movements. They telegraphed ahead, and the news reached Bellows Falls, Vermont, before the train arrived. After some resistance, he was taken off the train.

The following day, Devlin was put in irons and, sitting between two officers, was taken by train back to Lowell. Hundreds of spectators were waiting at the depot, and they followed the carriage to the police station. Devlin was kept under heavy guard due to threats of lynching.

William Devlin was born in Ireland and emigrated to Vermont in 1852. He fought for the Union in the Civil War and, after the war, met and married Ellen Manning. They moved to Lowell and had been there about eleven years. Ellen’s mother had nothing good to say about her son-in-law. He was a heavy drinker, and she told the press that “drunk or sober, he was the ugliest man she ever knew.” By the time of the murder, Ellen was addicted to alcohol as well.

Devlin was indicted on two counts of first-degree murder. His trial before the Supreme Judicial Court in East Cambridge began on December 3, 1878. The only witness for the defense was Devlin himself, testifying on his own behalf. Stressing his war record, Devlin said he received a saber cut on his head at Antietam. Since then, he had usually been dizzy when in the sun, and when drunk, he got a blur over his eyes, so he did not know what he was doing.

On the day of the murder, he came home about half past four, somewhat intoxicated. His wife was sleeping with the baby in her arms; she got up and went upstairs; he took the baby out of her arms. When she was about halfway up, she fell headlong. He put out his arm to catch her and dragged her into the bedroom. He went out for more drinks, came back, and, leaving his wife on the floor, went to sleep in the chair. She slept all day Sunday, and on Monday morning, he found her dead.

The most persuasive testimony came from Devlin’s children, now a year older. John Devlin, 11, testified to seeing his father kick his mother, jump upon her, and throw her downstairs. He stamped on her six or seven times and stabbed her twice. 8-year-old Nellie Devlin said she saw her father strike her mother with a knife. Mother said, “Don’t kill me.” Father said, “Yes, I will.”

Devlin’s attorney, after defining for the jury the different degrees of murder, argued that his client was so much under the influence of alcohol at the time to be in a state of mind unable to commit the offense of murder in the first degree.

The jury deliberated for seven hours before returning a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree. Devlin took it in stride, saying, “Well, gentlemen, I suppose I’ve got to hang for it.”

Following his conviction, community attitudes against Devlin changed somewhat. Sympathetic supporters circulated a petition to commute his sentence to life in prison. Governor Talbot and the council agreed to a public hearing. The main argument for commutation was to prevent the stigma of Devlin’s death on the gallows from being fastened on his children. Devlin’s attorney argued that the children’s testimony had been coached by the victim’s parents, and the jury had been confused about their choices. Chief State Detective Clemence testified that “Devlin was a man of many vices and few virtues. He was of a nervous temperament, jealous and revengeful, and had several times mad unprovoked assaults on persons.” The governor declined to commute the sentence.

William Devlin was hanged in Cambridge on May 14, 1879. His last words on the gallows were, “I thank all my friends for their kindness to me. I recommend all my friends abstain from rum, and I recommend my soul to God.”

---

Sources: 

“Adjudged Guilty of Murder,” Kingston Daily Freeman., December 5, 1878.
“A Brutal Murder,” New York Herald, December 4, 1878.
“A Cursed Murderer in Lowell, Mass,” Illustrated Police News, December 22, 1877.
“The Devlin Case,” Lowell Weekly Sun, March 1, 1879.
“Devlin Muerder Case,” Lowell Daily Citizen, December 4, 1878.
“The Devlin Murder,” Lowell Daily Citizen, December 11, 1877.
“The Devlin Murder,” Lowell Daily Citizen, December 12, 1877.
“Devlin's Case,” Lowell Daily Citizen, February 26, 1879.
“Devlin's Doom,” Lowell Daily Citizen, March 14, 1879.
“A Horrible Tragedy,” Worcester Evening Gazette, December 11, 1877.
“Murder in the First Degree,” New Haven Evening Register, December 5, 1878.
“Shocking Murder,” Lowell Daily Citizen, December 10, 1877.
“Tried for His Life,” Lowell Weekly Sun, December 7, 1878.
“Wife Murder,” New York Herald, December 5, 1878.
“William H Devlin Arraigned for the Murder of His Wife and Child,” Lowell Daily Citizen, April 16, 1878.
“William H. Deflin,” Evening Bulletin, March 14, 1879.
“Wm. H. Devlin,” Lowell Daily Citizen, January 9, 1879.

James Dougherty's Obsession.

Mary Anderson was an acclaimed international stage actress in the late 1800s. Among her many fans was a young Brooklyn man named James M. Dougherty.  He worked as a telegraph lineman and studied science in his spare time. He dabbled in a little of everything until, after watching one of her plays, he became obsessed with Miss Anderson. 

His love for Mary Anderson became his sole controlling passion, and soon turned to delusion. Dougherty believed Mary Anderson loved him as well, but she was surrounded by a group of conspirators who worked to keep them apart. He began following her to every city where she performed. In 1889, his stalking came to the attention of the New York City Police. They declared him insane and sent him to King’s County Insane Asylum in Brooklyn.

As his condition appeared to improve and his obsession with Mary Anderson subsided, the doctors no longer considered Dougherty a threat. He was put to work on the asylum’s farm, and he took the opportunity to escape. In October 1890, Dougherty returned to the asylum with a loaded revolver and murdered Dr. Lloyd, one of the physicians who, he felt, mistreated him.

“I did it. I meant to kill him and would have killed ten more if I had the chance,” he told the police. “I am not crazy, but as sane as the sanest man that walks New York today.”

The court agreed that Dougherty was sane and sentenced him to life in Sing Sing Prison.

Read the full story here: Lunatic Dougherty.

Song of the St. George Murder.

 

A Song Written in Memory of

The St. George Murder.

(excerpt)

In St. George, Me., as you shall hear,
It proves to be the fatal year -
That Mrs. Meservey, in the prime of life.
By a murderer's hand has lost her life.
...
Nathan Hart is the murderer's name,
Father and husband think of the shame,
Did he forget all woman kind,
Seek like a beast some prey to find?
...
God in His written book doth say, 
"With sin He's angry every day."
And if you covet what is wrong,
O, think of Hart at Thomaston.

This song about the 1877 murder of Mrs. Sarah Meservey in Tenant's Harbor, a village in the town of St. George, Maine, names Nathan Hart as the killer and justifies his life sentence in Thomaston Prison. Not everyone agreed that Hart was guilty. An 1882 book entitled The True Story of the Hart-Meservey Murder Trial claimed that Nathan Hart was railroaded.

Read the full story here: The Hart-Meserver Murder.

So Far from Home - 99¢.

One Week Only! On sale for 99 cents! So Far  from Home: The Pearl Bryan Murder "Yes. they drove far from the city, To a place so far from home, There they left her body lying Headless and all stained with blood"

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Sale ends Sept. 21

More Information

The Proctor Mystery.

(Illustrated Police News, February 1, 1885)

On Thursday, July 27, 1882, Sarah Proctor, of Salem, Massachusetts, heard groans coming from the cellar where her husband, George, was working.  Downstairs, she found him lying on the floor between two barrels. She rushed toward him exclaiming, “Good God, what is the matter, George?”

There was no response, so she ran to a neighbor for help. He found George alive but unconscious. On the floor was a small pool of blood from a wound in the back of his head, believed to have been sustained when his head hit the barrel. A doctor was summoned, but there was little he could do. George remained unconscious but held on until 10:15 that night. The official cause of death was “paralysis of brain.”

On Saturday, Sarah’s young nephew, Benny, was playing in the cellar and found a seven-shot Robin Hood pistol under the stairwell. One shot had been fired. He gave it to Sarah, who passed it on to her father-in-law. He gave it to the police the following day. When Medical Examiner Carlton heard of the discovery, he deemed it necessary to examine the body. George’s funeral was being held at the First Universalist Church. Following the service, the body was taken back to the undertaker’s, where Carlton performed an autopsy. 

The autopsy showed that the wound behind George’s left ear was a bullet wound. The bullet was still in the skull. It was removed and found to match the bullets in the pistol found under the cellar stairs.

Everyone’s first thought was that George Proctor had committed suicide. He was the owner of the Produce Exchange in Salem. In the week before his death, he made his will, paid his insurance assessments, settled his accounts, and installed his brother as manager of the Exchange. But from the position of the wound and the fact that the hairs around it were not singed, the Medical Examiner concluded the wound was not self-inflicted. 

George Proctor was murdered in the cellar of his own home, but it was unclear who would benefit from his death. The Proctors lived comfortably, but they were not wealthy. Some of his business ventures had failed. The will left his insurance benefit in trust for his widow and children; his brother would remain manager of the Exchange, and net profits would be divided semi-annually between his wife and his brother.

On August 1, Judge Osgood held an informal hearing where Sarah Proctors and other witnesses testified as to the circumstances of the murder. The hearing lasted two days, but nothing was resolved.

The following February, at a spiritualist meeting, a medium named Mrs. S. Dick communicated with George Proctor. She received tidings from the spirit world, then she suddenly paused and said, “I cannot go any further until I tell something which is the message that I hear, ‘No woman had anything to do with my death. George K. Proctor.’”

(Illustrated Police News, February 1, 1885)

The murder remained a mystery, and it gradually faded from public memory. However, the police did not forget the murder. District Officer Joseph E. Shaw of the State Force, together with Salem City Marshal Hart, continued to gather evidence. The investigation proceeded for another three years until February 1885, when, despite Mrs. Dick’s pronouncement, the Grand Jury of Essex County found an indictment against Sarah Proctor.

“Mrs. Proctor, I have a very painful duty to perform,” said Marshal Hart at Sarah Proctor's door.

“What is it, Mr. Hart?” she replied.

“I am instructed to arrest you, Mrs. Proctor, for causing the death of your husband, George K. Proctor.”

She fell back, as though stunned, and burst into tears. “You know I didn’t do that; you know I am innocent.”

The Marshal took her to jail in Lawrence.

Statements from people who knew the Proctors told the lawmen that their household was not a happy one. Sarah Proctor had a violent temper when aroused, and on more than one occasion, just before his death, George came to the police station and asked for protection. The City Marshal told him that he could obtain a warrant against his wife, but advised him not to bring public scandal on his family. George and his wife spent very little time together, and his friends advised him to get a legal separation.

Owing to trouble with her mother, their oldest daughter, Lilly, moved out of the house a year before Sarah’s arrest. Their other daughter was not on speaking terms with her mother and sued her for her share of the income from the Produce Exchange. She testified against her mother before the Grand Jury.

Sarah claimed that she had not heard a gunshot that morning, but the police conducted experiments that proved the shot would have been heard anywhere in the house. Her mother had sent Lilly out of town that day, and the younger sister was asleep. They also proved that the pistol could not have been thrown to the spot under the stairs where it was found. Other witnesses claimed there were towels saturated with blood at the house that morning, indicating that the bullet had bled more profusely than first thought. The police claimed to have additional evidence against Sarah that they did not make public.

Sarah Proctor remained in jail until May 12, 1885, when her case came before the Supreme Judicial Court. Attorney General Sherman moved that Sarah P. Proctor be arraigned on the charge of murder. However, he told the court that since the Grand Jury indictment, a number of important witnesses had changed their testimony and the evidence needed to be examined with more care.

“Since then, “ said the Attorney General, “I have, with the assistance of the district attorney and the officers, made a most thorough and searching examination of this important case, and I have come to the conclusion that I cannot expect or properly ask a jury to convict the prisoner on the evidence which we have at present.”

While the arraignment stayed in effect, Mrs. Proctor was released from custody. Public sympathy turned in her favor, and the suicide theory was revised, but the case remained unsolved.

---

Sources: 

“The Celebrated Proctor Murder Case,” Daily Evening Bulletin, May 13, 1885.
“Clearing Up a Mystery,” GALENA INDUSTRIAL PRESS, February 19, 1885.
“More Murder,” BOSTON HERALD, February 3, 1885.
“Mrs. Sarah P. Proctor, the Alleged Husband Murderer,” Illustrated Police News, February 21, 1885.
“A Mysterious Tragedy At Salem,” Springfield Republican, July 31, 1882.
“Obituary,” Boston Daily Advertiser, July 28, 1882.
“The Proctor Mystery,” Worcester Evening Gazette, July 31, 1882.
“Salem,” Boston Daily Journal, September 5, 1882.
“Salem,” Boston Evening Journal, February 26, 1883.
“Salem,” Boston Daily Journal, October 19, 1883.
“The Salem Mystery,” Boston Evening Journal, May 13, 1885.
“A Salem Sensation,” Boston Evening Journal, February 3, 1885.
“The Salem Tragedy ,” Boston Daily Journal, August 2, 1882.
“Tragedy at Salem,” Boston Daily Journal, July 31, 1882.

Sadie and Clarence.

Sadie and Clarence.

In April 1894, the murder of Montgomery Gibbs, a successful attorney, caused great excitement in Buffalo, New York. He was found shot to death in a driveway on Delaware Avenue with no clues to the killer’s identity. The police and newspapers investigated the crime, but they had no solid leads, and it remained unsolved. Then, in October, they received a tip that Clarence Robinson, a young burglar in custody in Cleveland, Ohio, committed the murder with his wife, Sadie.   At their trial for first-degree, both pleaded not guilty, each saying they had been coerced by the other.

Read the full story here: The Delaware Avenue Murder.

John and Eva.

 

When John Keys and Eva Dickenson were married in Cincinnati on August 21, 1890, they told their relatives that they planned to honeymoon on the Atlantic coast, but John had another plan. He purchased an Ohio River shanty-boat and planned a slow trip downriver to St. Louis. It would not be their last deception; in fact, what transpired on that fateful journey would remain forever shrouded in mystery.

Read the full story here: The Lawrenceburg Shanty-boat Mystery.

The Attleboro Sensation.

(Illustrated Police News, April 3, 1886.)

Agnes Anastasia Long moved out of her parents’ home in East Attleboro, Massachusetts, in April 1882. With her many male suiters, she was considered the black sheep of the family. Her father had enough of her bad behavior and, according to the Boston Herald, “refused to permit her to darken the threshold of his humble home.”

Ida and Sophia.

 

Ida Quinlan and Sophia Grant.

Mrs. Ida Quinlan went out to buy a pair of stockings at around 9:00 on the night of February 1, 1896, leaving her baby in the care of her sister, Mrs. Sophia Grant. She took a streetcar to the store several miles away and returned to the house at around 11:00. Entering the sitting room, she was surprised to find the drawers of the chiffoniers pulled out and their contents spread on the floor. She called for Sophia and, getting no response, went into the kitchen, where she found her sister lying dead on the floor, covered with blood. Horrified, Ida ran from the house to seek assistance from the neighbors. At least that was the story she told the police. The following day, Ida Quinlan was arrested for the murder of her sister.

Read the full story here: Did Ida Do It?

Daniel, Teresa, and Phillip.

Daniel Sickles, Teresa Bagioli, Phillip Key

In 1859, Dan Sickles, a congressman from New York (and future Union General), was married to the most beautiful woman in Washington, but his other interests, including his mistresses, often kept him away from home. His lonely young wife, Teresa, found comfort in the arms of Philip Barton Key, D.C. District Attorney and son of poet Francis Scott Key. When Sickles learned of their affair, he armed himself and confronted Key on the street. Blinded by rage, he shot and killed his wife’s lover. Was it premeditated murder or temporary insanity?

Read the full story here: Dan Sickle's Temporary Insanity.

A Father's Demon Deed.

Illustrated Police News, February 8, 1879.

O.P. Hull, a well-to-do farmer, lived with his wife and six children near the village of Wassonville, Iowa. Mr. Hull was a kind father and affectionate husband who was adored by his family. He especially doted on his attractive and popular 19-year-old daughter, Emma. Her comfort and happiness were foremost in his mind. He would leave nothing undone to benefit his daughter, but his attachment to Emma was so strong that her absence from home, for any reason, would worry his mind terribly.

Guest Post: 'Once a Happy Bride.'

 Howard and Nina Brown are frequent contributors to Murder by Gaslight, on matters pertaining to the 1891 murder of Carrie Brown, viewed by some as the work of London’s Jack the Ripper. The Browns run the website JTRForums.com, discussing all aspects of Jack the Ripper's murders, and CarrieBrown: Murder In The East River Hotel, a discussion site on the Carrie Brown case. They have written three books on Carrie Brown: East Side Story:1891 Murder Case of Carrie Brown, An Illustrated Encyclopedia and A -Z: The1891 Murder Of Carrie Brown In The East River Hotel, and 'Once A Happy Bride' The Tragic Life Of Carrie Brown: From Liverpool To The Lower East Side.

Their latest book, ‘Once a Happy Bride’, available from Amazon, covers aspects of Carrie's life that have been generally glossed over, beginning with her days as a young bride of a successful sea captain, and continuing through her days in New York, when she was never able to shake the ravages of alcohol. Howard and Nina are sharing the foreword of their new book.

James and Ellen.

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

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

Read the full story here: The Bridgeport Tragedy.

The Tell-Tale Skull.

(Philadelphia Inquirer, April 29, 1895.)

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

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

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

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

The Confession of Mary Cole.

The Confession of Mary Cole, 1813.

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

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

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

Jennie Cramer's Tragic Ballad.

(New Haven Independent)

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

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

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

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

Charles and Lizzie.

 

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

Read the full story here: The Kaiser Conspiracy.

A Delilah's Revenge.

 

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

Hannah and Stephen.

 

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

Read the full story here: Avenging Her Honor.

The Conspirators and their Hitman.

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

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

Jack the Strangler Post-Mortem.

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

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

Kate Scharn.

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

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

Maggie Crowley.

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

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

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

"Diamond Flossie" Murphy.

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

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

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

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

Hannah Altman.

(New York Evening Journal, March 18, 1898)

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

Patrolman Tyler heard his cries and ran to the spot.

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

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

Annie Bock.

(New York Journal, August 5, 1896)

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

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

Mamie Cunningham.

(New York Journal, May 31, 1896.)

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

Minnie Weldt.

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

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

Jack the Strangler.

(New York Journal, March 18, 1898.)

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

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

Butchered and Burned.

National Police Gazette, January 28, 1882

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

Read the full story here: The Ashland Outrage.

Frederick F. Streeter.

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

Medford's Murder Mystery.

(Boston Post, March 29, 1897,)

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

 

Read the full story here: The Medford Mystery.

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.”