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.

---

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.

Views of the Fisk Assassination.

James Fisk Jr. was a robber baron, stock manipulator, and financial fraudster. In spite of this, he was a popular, much-loved public figure. On January 6, 1872, he was assassinated on the staircase of the Grand Central Hotel in New York City by his friend and sometime business partner, Edward “Ned” Stokes. Fisk and Stokes were both in love with Josie Mansfield, considered by some to be the most beautiful woman in America. 

The murder became a national sensation and was graphically illustrated many times in magazines and books.

Read the full story here: Jubilee Jim.
 

---

1. Life, Adventures, Strange Career and Assassination of Col. James Fisk Jr. (Philadelphia: Barclay and Co, 1872.)
2. Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, January 20, 1872.
3. The Life of James Fisk Jr. (Philadelphia: Union Publishing Company, 1872.)
4. “The Stokes-Fisk Assassination,” Illustrated Police News, January 11, 1872.

Liquor and Free Love.

As Police Officers Henry Johnson and Eli Veazie were leaving the Chelsea, Massachusetts City Marshal’s office on the evening of February 17, 1872, they were approached by a man, intoxicated and in a state of agitation.

“I have had my revenge. I want you to go with me,” he said, “I suppose I have killed him and shall have to suffer for it.”

The man, Arzo B. Bartholomew, led them to a men’s furnishings store on Pearl Street, where a crowd had gathered in front of the building. Officer Johnson went upstairs to an apartment on the second floor and found the body of Charles Storer lying face down inside the doorway, stabbed through the heart.

The police were well aware of the animosity between Bartholomew and Storer, but did not take it seriously. Storer was 45 years old, Bartholomew was 61, and both were in love with the same woman.

The three-room apartment was occupied by Dr. Sydney B. West and Mrs. Susan D. Gilbert. The third room they used to manufacture a patent medicine called Dr. West’s Medicated Candy. Dr. West had formerly practiced medicine in Boston and had moved to Chelsea about a year earlier to produce his medicated candy in partnership with Mrs. Gilbert. A few months later, Charles Storer, a well-known builder in Chelsea, joined the firm.

Susan Gilbert was about 40 years old. She was tall and slim with a fair complexion. According to the New York Herald, “She may have been very comely in youth and is not by any means repulsive in appearance now.” She and Dr. West shared an apartment, but they maintained that their relationship was a business partnership, not romantic. The same could not be said of Susan and Charles Storer, who developed a “mutual admiration.” Although he had a wife and four daughters, Storer’s attachment to Susan Gilbert grew much warmer, and he spent much of his time at her apartment.

Arzo Bartholomew lived a sorrowful life. His wife died two years earlier from a fall down the stairs in their South Boston apartment. He had recently been swindled in a property deal, and his furniture was stolen. As a young man, he was a police officer but was dismissed for cowardice. He went with another officer to quell a disturbance, got frightened, and left his partner to go it alone.

Bartholomew met Suson Gilbert in the spring of 1871 at a Spiritualist meeting in Boston. He probably wanted to communicate with his dead wife, whom he referred to as the “dear departed.” At the meeting, he and Susan formed a strong attachment that, for Bartholomew, grew into an absolute infatuation. They met again at a Spiritualist camp meeting in Concord, Massachusetts. Charles Storer was also at the camp meeting, and the two men had a lively quarrel, which Susan pacified to prevent injury.

In the 1870s, many Spiritualists also advocated free love, prompting the New York Herald to headline their story, “Free Love and Murder.”  The Congregationalist declared, “Liquor and free love doctrines have to answer for this crime.”

Back in Chelsea, Bartholomew visited Susan often. He claimed that he and Susan were engaged to be married; an assertion that she would neither confirm nor deny. Storer did everything he could to keep Batholomew away. He would sit on the steps in front of the apartment to prevent Bartholomew’s visits. Sometimes he would stay as late as 2:00 AM, and more than once the police chased him home. Bartholomew entered a complaint with the City Marshal, saying that Storer had threatened to shoot him if he did not stay away from Susan. The officers, aware of the situation, advised him to stay away.

On the day of the murder, Bartholomew arrived at the apartment heavily intoxicated. Seeing his condition, Susan did not want to talk to him. He persisted, saying he wanted an interest in the medicated candy business or employment with the firm. She told him he had to go.

Bartholomew said he would end all trouble, then he took something from his pocket and made a motion as if stabbing himself. He struck Susan in the breast with his fist or the handle of a knife. Dr. West interfered, and Bartholomew pushed him away violently. Knowing Storer would be there soon, Susan tried again to persuade him to leave.

In the midst of the confusion, Storer arrived and said, “I have got something to say about this.”

Bartholomew turned his attention to Storer, and the men immediately clinched. Storer threw Bartholomew to the floor, and Susan begged him not to hurt Bartholomew as he was drunk. Storer got up and said he was going for the police. Bartholomew rose and followed him out the door. Susan and Dr. West went after them and stumbled over the body of Storer on the entry floor. They moved him inside. He was apparently unconscious; they saw no blood.

After two or three minutes, he sat up and exclaimed twice, “What’s the matter?”

He sank down, then up again, saying, “What’s the matter?”

His eyes became fixed and glassy, and he fell dead. They saw the fatal wounds, two downward gashes in the left breast, one of which penetrated the heart.

News of the murder travelled quickly through Chelsea. Charles Storer’s eldest daughter pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered outside the building. When she saw her murdered father, she threw her arms around his neck and cried bitterly, unable to accept that he was dead.  The Boston Morning Journal said, “Her grief was so poignant and so demonstrative that it touched the hearts and moistened the eyes of the few spectators present.”

The police arrested Dr. West and Susan Gilbert as witnesses and took them to the jail where Bartholomew was already in custody. They were held on $5,000 bail to make sure they would be available to testify.

Bartholomew said that Storer had dogged him for weeks. As he was talking with Susan, Storer came in and called him an “extremely hard name” then grabbed him by the collar and threw him on the floor. He could not remember anything after that. On the advice of his counsel, Bartholomew did not testify at his arraignment, where he was indicted for manslaughter.

At his trial the following March, the prosecution entered into evidence a letter from Bartholomew to Susan showing the extent of his infatuation (as well as his inability to spell):

Boston, January 14, 1872
Dearest darling Susie, my sweete angil, I could not goe to bed with out writing you a few lines dareling Susie, you are my dareling sweete bird. I was sorry that I could not staid with you longer to day dareling, but we will be together more soon I hope sweete dareling. God in heaven and the angils will bless ours dareling  dout not enny more sweete susie, my loved one you are all the hopes that I have in the world  Susie dareling you alone make me happy. why should I not ask your hand and heart to be mine dareling presious sweete one? say yes dareling God bless your soul   a thousand kisses for you.

I shall be there about half past 9 o’clock wensdsay night if nothing happens   my cold is very bad  I am all stuft upt to-night   this is from your true lover dareling A. B. Bartholemew  good buy dareling angil birde

The jury found Bartholomew guilty of manslaughter. After a failed appeal, the judge sentenced him to six years in the State Prison.

In 1876, after serving three and a half years of his sentence, Azro Bartholomew was pardoned.

---

Sources: 

“Affecting Scene and Poignant Grief ,” Illustrated Police News, February 29, 1872.
“Brieflets,” Boston Evening Transcript., June 20, 1876.
“Chelsea,” Boston Daily Journal, February 20, 1872.
“The Chelsea Homicide,” Boston Daily Evening Transcript., March 21, 1872.
“The Chelsea Tragedy,” BOSTON HERALD., February 19, 1872.
“The Chelsea Tragedy,” BOSTON HERALD., February 20, 1872.
“The Chelsra Tragedy,” Boston Daily Journal, March 22, 1872.
“Crimes and Criminals,” CONGREGATIONALIST., February 22, 1872.
“Free Love and Murder,” New York Herald, February 19, 1872.
“New-England News-Summary,” Boston Cultivator., March 30, 1872.
“Sad Tragedy in Chelsea,” Boston Morning Journal., February 19, 1872.
“Sentenced for Manslaughter,” Boston Evening Journal, December 9, 1872.

Parting from Her Doomed Lover.

National Police Gazette, December 29, 1888.

Franklin Asbury Hawkins murdered his mother on October 29, 1887, and dumped her body, beaten and shot, by the side of the road in Islip, Long Island. 22-year-old Hawkins was angered that his mother objected to his desire to marry Hattie Schrecht, a servant girl. Hawkins was easily convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to be hanged in December 1888.

Hattie Schrecht visited Hawkins in his jail cell the night before his execution. She blamed herself for the murder, but the weeping girl assured her doomed lover that they would meet again in heaven.

Read the full story here: The Hawkins Matricide. 

Shot Down in Court.

Police Officers Farson and Conway were patrolling the neighborhood of Orleans and Washinton Streets in Memphis, Tennessee, on the night of April 28, 1890, when they heard a cry of,” Help! Murder!” They hurried to the source and opened the door to find a woman lying on the floor with a heavy-set man over her with a death grip on her throat. They arrested the man and took him to Central Station, where they learned that they had captured Jake Ackerman, one of the most successful and dangerous criminals in the country.

Jake Ackerman, alias Soloman S. Markes, was a burglar, sneak thief, and “all-around crook,” remarkably adept at evading capture. He was also known as “Natural Jake” for his ability to feign innocence when arrested and avoid prison when convicted.

Ackerman had been a criminal since his childhood in Memphis when he was the leader of a gang of young thieves known as the Mackerl Brigade. Several robberies were traced to the gang, but the police were unable to secure evidence to convict the culprits. Between the ages of 13 and 17, Ackerman was arrested at least 50 times.

In 1883, Ackerman and an accomplice robbed a drunken man of $600. When arrested, Ackerman thrust something into his mouth. The police officer grabbed his throat and choked him until he coughed it up. It was a $500 bill. The victim, a Mississippi planter visiting Memphis, was so happy to get his money back that he tipped the officer $100 but did not press charges. When the case went to trial, Ackerman was acquitted due to his youth, and on the condition that he leave the city.

In the years that followed, Ackerman committed crimes throughout the country. He was married in Indiana, and they moved to Topeka, Kansas. From there, he went to Des Moines, Iowa, where he was arrested for robbing a jewelry store.  His father-in-law put up $1,000 bail to release him from jail, but Ackerman did not stay for his trial. He skipped to Jacksonville, Florida, and his wife divorced him. 

He was arrested in Canton, Mississippi, for assaulting and attempting to rob a man on a train. He was convicted and taken by train to the penitentiary in Jackson, Mississippi. En route, Ackerman made a daring escape. Although handcuffed, he jumped through the window of the moving train and fled. He was arrested several more times and at least twice escaped by putting soap in his mouth and feigning an epileptic fit, then easily breaking out of the hospital.

In 1888, Ackerman met Lizzie Broderick in Missouri. The well-dressed, fast-talking Ackerman charmed the innocent young girl. Her parents were against Ackerman because he was Jewish, and they forbade her from seeing him. But Lizzie was infatuated and left her home to travel with Ackerman to Fort Scott, Kansas, where they were married.

But, Ackerman did not change his ways. 

Lizzie Ackerman

“Our married life has been a very trying one,” said Lizzie. “Jake would be with me one day and in some jail or penitentiary the next. With repeated promises made on bended knees to reform and live an honest life, I stood by Jake in all his troubles.”

During one prolonged absence, she moved to Memphis and changed her name to avoid the stigma associated with “Ackerman.” He tracked her down in Memphis, and they had a pleasant reunion until he found some letters implying that she had cheated on him. This led to the altercation, interrupted by the Memphis police officers.

Jake Ackerman was charged with assault and attempted murder and was arraigned in Police Court on April 30, 1890. In court, he handed Lizzie a note:

Lizzie: I hope you will send me my shirt; you have got three, and my collars and cuffs and also my knife. Put them in a big valise, also my socks and handkerchiefs so I can take them with me; send my check too.

J.N. Ackerman

This was the last straw for Lizzie. When the case was called and they both stood before the bench, Lizzie pulled a revolver from beneath her cloak and fired three shots.

Pandemonium broke out in the courtroom. The police took Lizzie into custody and carried Ackerman to an adjoining room. Everyone else in the room ran for cover.

“My God! Lay me down,” said Ackerman as someone removed his coat, “I am terribly shot. I can feel myself bleeding inside.”

Ackerman continued to talk as he lay dying. He asked God to forgive him and requested that the $35 in his pocket be given to the poor, but he had no kind words for Lizzie. He wanted to make sure the incriminating letters were introduced at her trial to show how badly she treated him. He died about an hour later.

Lizzie was cool and calm in custody. She explained to a reporter why she killed Ackerman. After he handed her the note, he leaned over and whispered, “There ain’t much of a case against me. I will be out of this without any trouble, and as soon as I get out, so help me God, I’ll kill you.”

“I did not wait for more,” said Lizzie, “but pulled my pistol and fired the shots straight at him…I have been abused all my married life, and I have lived in daily fear of my life for seven years.”

Lizzie was tried in June and found guilty of second-degree murder. She was sentenced to ten years in the penitentiary. 

Public opinion was always on Lizzie’s side, and many believed she did the world a favor by killing Jake Ackerman. Her cause was taken up by the Women’s Christian Association, who won her an absolute pardon from Governor Taylor. She served less than six months of her ten-year sentence.

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Sources: 

“'Natural Jake',” Jasper weekly courier., May 9, 1890.
“He Called her Pet Names,” Public Ledger, April 29, 1890.
“Killed Her Husband in Court,” New York Herald, May 1, 1890.
“Killed in Court,” Public Ledger, April 30, 1890.
“Lizzie Ackerman Free,” Memphis Daily Commercial, January 17, 1891.
“Lizzie Ackerman's Victim,” Memphis Avalanche, May 2, 1890.
“A Long Career of Crime,” Memphis Daily Commercial, April 30, 1890.
“A Noted Criminal Caught,” Memphis Avalanche, April 30, 1890.
“Shot Down in Court,” National Police Gazette, May 17, 1890.
“Tragic,” Memphis Daily Commercial, May 1, 1890.
“A Verdict of Ten Years,” Memphis Avalanche, June 20, 1890.
“A Wife Kills Her Husband,” Alexandria gazette., May 1, 1890.

Miss Tobin's Mysterious Death.

National Police Gazette, June 1, 1889.

On May 12, 1889, the janitor of the Clifton Boat Club on Staten Island found the body of a young woman floating in the water. Though badly decomposed, Dr. S.A. Robinson identified her as Mary Tobin, who had recently resigned from her job in his office. 

Mary Tobin’s life was clouded with mysteries and contradictions. She had come to Staten Island from Franklin, Pennsylvania. However, when her family learned of her death, they thought she was in Clifton, South Carolina. 

The police suspected suicide. Perhaps she had been seduced and betrayed and 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. 

In the two years that she lived on Staten Island, she went from being an active Methodist to an avid and very vocal atheist to a High Church Episcopalian. Her pastor said that prior to her death, Mary had consulted him about joining the Episcopal Sisters and moving to a convent. 

It was well known that Mary was engaged to be married, but none of her friends or relations knew the identity of her fiancé. At the inquest, Dr. William Bryan revealed that he was engaged to Mary. Though the date had not been set, they planned to be married.

The final mystery of Mary Tobin’s life—did she die by murder, suicide, or accident—has never been solved.

Read the full story here: The Mysteries of Mary Tobin.

The Hill's Grove Mystery.

Two days after her disappearance, search parties formed to look for any trace of Emma between Hill’s Grove and Pontiac. They focused on the river and ponds in the area, fearing that she may have fallen in and drowned. On November 14, when the search was all but abandoned, a group of searchers discovered Emma’s body in the bushes on a knoll, near the road.

The coroner and the medical examiner went to the scene and determined that Emma had been the victim of foul play. Her neck was bruised with distinct marks of fingers and thumbs, and her face was purple and swollen, indicating that she had been strangled. Her clothes had been drawn up to her waist. They later determined that she had probably been raped. There were no clues at the scene to identify the assailant.

Emma Pearson, age 30, was a Swedish immigrant who spoke little English. She was pleasant and industrious but tended to keep to herself. She was said to have an antipathy for the whole male population and shunned the company of men.

In Sweden, Emma had an illegitimate child. The papers called it “the one error of her life.” Alexander Berg, the man involved, was ready to marry her, but his family forbade it. So, Emma came to America with her 3-year-old son. The boy, John Berg, now 5, was living with Emma’s sister in East Greenwich, Rhode Island.

Agnes Loomis, who had planned to go with Emma to Pontiac, decided to leave an hour earlier that day. She reported that a man wearing a light overcoat, driving a horse and wagon, overtook her and asked if she wanted a ride. She declined, but he insisted until she turned to go to the main road. Another witness saw a man in a light overcoat walking with a young woman near the murder scene. Her description of the girl’s clothing did not match Emma’s.

A suspect began to emerge, though the evidence against him was weak and circumstantial. John Anderson, known as the “Big Swede,” lived in a cabin about five hundred yards from the knoll where Emma’s body was found. He was a 45-year-old grim-looking man who was acquainted with Emma. On the day of the murder, his wife was out of town. Earlier that week, Anderson appeared to have a seizure of some kind while shopping in a store. The villagers thought it had been caused by hydrophobia or insanity, but an examining doctor found nothing wrong with him.

Anderson was questioned through an interpreter because he appeared to speak only Swedish. However, during the interview, he became excited and answered in English.

The investigation was hampered from the beginning by errors and other difficulties. The undertaker burned all of Emma’s clothes along with any evidence they contained. Multiple reward offers amounting to $2,200 led to overzealous detective work. Postmaster Tilley arrested John Anderson, but the District Attorney denied issuing an arrest warrant.

Authorities had hoped that the large Swedish community in the area would be helpful in solving the mystery of Emma Pearson’s murder, but they found the opposite. Coroner Green said that the Swedes “hang to each other like glue.” Regarding John Anderson, they all asserted, “He could not have done it; our people do not do such things.”

When John Anderson was arraigned on December 7, the attorney general, the coroner, and the medical examiner refused to participate in the trial. Postmaster Tilley attempted the prosecution on his own. Due to lack of evidence and Tilley’s inexperience, John Anderson was not indicted.

As Anderson’s trial proceeded, another Swede, Gustaf Lindstrom, was ending a three-week drinking binge. After Anderson’s release, Lindstrom, in the throes of delirium tremens, said to his wife, “They have cleared the old man Anderson, and they will be after me next.”

On the morning of December 9, he told her, “I killed Emma Pearson; they are after me, and I am not going to await arrest.”

He then tried to shoot himself, but she took the pistol away from him. He went into an outhouse and cut his own throat. The more prominent newspapers like the Boston Globe and the New York Tribune reported that Mrs. Lindstrom believed her husband was the murderer. However, in the Rhode Island papers, Mrs. Lindstrom called the assertion a “malicious falsehood.”

While some took the suicide of Gustaf Lindstrom as an admission of guilt, the case remained open. Gradually, the murder faded from memory. It was briefly revived on the death of John Anderson. After his release, the “Big Swede” became a tramp, wandering aimlessly around Rhode Island, and was, for a time, an inmate of the State Asylum for the Insane. When he died in February 1889, any secrets he kept about the murder were buried with him. The case, once again, was forgotten.

---

Sources: 

“An Unsolved Mystery,” Providence Sunday Journal, February 24, 1889.
“Big Swede Anderson Under Arrest,” Morning Journal and Courier., November 30, 1886.
“The Big Swede Goes Free,” Morning Journal and Courier., December 8, 1886.
“Did the Swede Kill Emma? ,” New York Herald, December 7, 1886.
“Emma Pearson's Murder,” Sun., December 7, 1886.
“Emma Pearson's Murderer,” Evening Bulletin, November 29, 1886.
“A False Scent,” Providence Daily Journal, November 20, 1886.
“The Hill's Grove Mystery,” Evening Bulletin, November 15, 1886.
“The Hill's Grove Mystery,” Providence Daily Journal, November 16, 1886.
“The Hill's Grove Tragedy,” Providence Daily Journal, November 18, 1886.
“The Hill's Grove Tragedy,” Providence Daily Journal, November 19, 1886.
“The Linstrom Suicide,” Evening Bulletin, December 9, 1886.
“A Murderer Confesses And Commits Suicide,” New-York Tribune., December 9, 1886.

“One More.,” National Police Gazette, December 4, 1886.
“The Pearson Murder,” Evening Bulletin, December 1, 1886.

An Illustrated Encyclopedia: The 1891 Murder Of Carrie Brown.

 

An Illustrated Encyclopedia: The 1891 Murder Of Carrie Brown, a new book by Howard and Nina Brown of JTRForums.com, is a comprehensive summary of the people, places, and things associated with one of New York City’s most sensational murder cases. The brutal murder of Carrie Brown shocked the people of New York and challenged their police force. Many believed that it was the work of London’s Jack the Ripper, making the investigation even more urgent. The Browns’ new book profiles all of the characters involved and views the case from all angles.

Available at Amazon.

Mary and Oscar.

 

Mary Barrows and Oscar Blaney.
Illustrated Police News, May 9, 1885,

In 1883, Mary Barrows of Kittery, Maine, persuaded her son-in-law, Oscar Blaney, to murder her husband, Thomas Barrows. Mary had been married before and had a daughter by her first husband. Thomas never got along with his stepdaughter, and he despised Oscar. He went into a rage whenever they visited because he believed Mary planned to transfer the deed of their farm to her daughter.

Mary and Oscar agreed that there would be no peace in their lives until Thomas was dead and they decided to make it happen. On November 14, 1883, Oscar ambushed Thomas near the barn, shot him three times, and fled. The shots did not kill Thomas, and he managed to crawl back to the house. Mary went to get Oscar to finish the job. Oscar shot Thomas twice more, killing him.

Mary tried to claim that Thomas had committed suicide but had trouble explaining five bullet wounds. Mary Barrows and Oscar Blaney were both convicted of murder.

Read the full story here: The Kittery Crime.

Mother and Son Murderers.

 

A driverless horse and wagon wandered aimlessly in the prairie between Fort Gibson and Tahlequah in Indian Territory on December 3, 1883. Jim Merrill heard the wagon come up to his front gate and went out to investigate. In the bed of the wagon, he found the body of Arch Casey with a large bullet hole in his left breast.

The wagon tracks were clearly visible in the dirt. They followed a meandering route, sometimes on the road, sometimes off. Then, at one point, they stuck to the road as if someone had guided the wagon to that spot and then abandoned it. The tracks led back to the house of Mrs. Mary Matoy, about a hundred yards north of the road to Tahlequah.

Mrs. Matoy was a widow who had "...born the reputation of being loose in character—a hard case—shrewd, bold and dangerous." Her son Jimmie (age reported variously 12-15) also had a bad reputation. They claimed to have no knowledge of the murder, but the Indian Police searched the house and found blood stains under a bed and a splotch of blood where the wagon had stood. The day before, Jimmie had borrowed a large-bore gun and four cartridges from a neighbor. He returned it the next morning, having shot two of the cartridges.

Captain Sam Sixkiller of the Indian Police was convinced of their guilt. He arrested them both and conveyed them to Muskogee. From there, they were taken to Fort Smith, Arkansas to await trial in the U.S. District Court.

Arch Casey was an Irishman who came to Fort Gibson in 1866 with the 19^th Regiment of the U.S. Infantry. After discharge, he remained in the district. He married a native woman and had three children. Casey was described as industrious and peaceable but sometimes drank too much. His wife died several years earlier, and he began a relationship with Mary Matoy. He lived, off and on, at her house during the last three years.

While in jail in Fort Smith, Mary Matoy had her four-year-old daughter in the cell with her. They lived that way for the next six months until her trial the following June.

Both Mary and Jimmie persistently denied all knowledge of the killing until a few days before their trial, when they acknowledged the crime but claimed self-defense. On the witness stand, Mary explained what happened:

Casey came to my house shortly after dinner time, and alighting from his wagon came in and began to abuse me. I went out in the yard. He followed and pushed me down over a pile of rocks. Jimmie ran into the house and got a gun. When he came out, Casey chased him around behind the house with an ax-handle. I then heard the gunshot, and going around there saw Casey lying on the ground. He died almost instantly. We were scared, and concluded the best thing we could do was to conceal the crime; so we dragged the body into the house, and taking the bedding from the slats laid Casey on them, and then put the bedding back on top of him. We did this to prevent anyone from seeing him who might chance to pass during the evening. After dark, we dragged the body to the wagon in the yard, and placed it in such a way as to make it appear that he had been shot in the wagon, and fallen off the seat. We then got in the wagon, taking my little girl along, and drove in a round-about way to where the team was found next morning, sometimes driving out of the road to make it appear that the team had got there without any driver. After abandoning the team we walked back home through the woods, a distance of nine miles, arriving there about daylight, carrying my little girl all the way back.

The Matoys had been charged with murder, but Mary’s explanation was enough to convince the jury to find them guilty of the lesser charge of manslaughter. The judge gave them the maximum sentence—ten years in prison and a $1,000 fine.

Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal C.M. Barnes took Mary and Jimmie, along with nine other convicts, to the House of Correction in Detroit, Michigan. Mary was not allowed to take her little daughter to prison with her. They had an emotional farewell in Arkansas before leaving. The girl was adopted by a family in Fort Smith.

---

Sources:

“[Capt John A,” Cherokee Advocate, December 14, 1883.
“[Casey; Fort Gibson; Mrs,” Cherokee Advocate, December 7, 1883.
“[Matoy; Casey],” Cherokee Advocate, December 14, 1883.
“Arrested for Murder,” Rockford Daily Register., December 19, 1883.
“Capt.Hyde,” Indian chieftain., December 28, 1883.
“Mother and Child Acting as Murderers,” National Police Gazette, July 26, 1884.
“Mother And Child Take a Sad Farewell, the Former Leaving for a Prison Cell,” Daily Arkansas Gazette, July 23, 1884.
“Mother and Son Sentenced,” Fort Worth daily gazette., June 20, 1884.
“Woman Convicted of Murder,” Rockford Daily Register., June 20, 1884.

Kitty Mulcahey's Fury.

National Police Gazette, January 14, 1882.

In January 1882, Kitty Mulcahey was jailed in St. Louis for the murder of Alfred Tonkin. Kitty was a prostitute who said Tonkin had offered her two dollars and a sealskin hat if she would go with him to his room. She did not like his looks and refused the offer. Later, while walking with a man whose looks she did like, Tonkin approached them looking for trouble. The other man handed Kitty a pistol, and she shot Tonkin. 

The police and reporters were not satisfied with her story. The newsmen wanted the name of the other man and the location of the pistol, and they pressed her to implicate her pimp, Billy Scharlow. Kitty was unhappy with the way she was portrayed in the press and became increasingly annoyed by their incessant questioning. In January, she had enough, and with a fierce outburst of temper, she doused the reporters from head to foot with water from a bucket in her cell.

Before her trial, Kitty recanted her confession, and without it, there was very little evidence against her. She was found not guilty and released from custody.

Read the full story here: Kitty Mulcahey.

Zora Burns.

Illustrated Police News, Nov. 10, 1883.

Zora Burns was a beautiful and captivating young woman with “…abundant hair of yellow-golden tint clustered about features as perfectly regular as those which Phidias chiseled from the marble of Greece. Her form was grace and symmetry personified, and despite her lack of educational advantages, her natural tact and quickness of intellect atoned in great measure for her deficiencies.”  She was 19 years old in 1881 when she left her home in St. Elmo, Illinois, and took a job as a domestic servant for the family of Orrin Carpenter in Lincoln, Illinois.

Zora was unhappy and left her employer in 1883. She returned to her father’s home in St. Elmo, but on Friday, October 12, she went back to Lincoln, telling her father she was going to get $20.00 that Orrin Carpenter owed her. The following Monday, her body was found on the road outside Lincoln. Her head was bruised, and her throat had been cut from ear to ear. There was no apparent motive for the murder and no suspects.

The mystery cleared somewhat when a post-mortem examination revealed that Zora had been several months pregnant. Orrin Carpenter became the prime suspect in Zora’s murder.

Carpenter was tried for murder, but the evidence was slim and circumstantial. The jury found Carpenter not guilty, but he was convicted by the court of public opinion. 4,000 citizens of Lincoln agreed to banish Carpenter from Logan County and drove him out of town at gunpoint.

Read the full story here: The Mystery of Zora Burns

Shot by a Prodigal Son.

Foully slain by his scapegrace son -- Emanuel Breist meets a terrible fate at Kikngerstown, Pa.

Emanuel Breist was one of the wealthiest farmers in Mahantongo Valley, Pennsylvania. He had four daughters and one son. In 1880, Breist fought with his 17-year-old son, Henry, and as a result, Henry ran away from home.

The family heard nothing from Henry for four years; then, on December 4, 1884, the prodigal son returned. The hatchet was buried, the fences were mended, and Emanuel welcomed his son with open arms. He was so happy to have his son back that he gave Henry all the money he asked for.

Henry, however, had not changed his prodigal ways. He spent his father’s money on wild women, and he became notorious around Klingerstown for drunkenness and dissipation. Henry became intimate with Mary Heckman, the wife of William Heckman, proprietor of the Klingers Gap Tavern. The Heckmans had always borne a bad reputation.  Mary Heckmen was described as “34 years of age and very ugly.”  William, apparently, had no problem with his wife’s dalliance with young Henry.

When reports of this relationship reached Emanuel, he was livid. He told his son to have nothing more to do with Mrs. Heckman. Henry agreed, but later that evening, he and Mary Heckman went on a sleigh ride and came home intoxicated. Emanuel drove his son out of the house. After some friends intervened and Henry solemnly vowed to cease intimacy with Mrs. Heckaman, Emanuel relented and let Henry back in.

On December 29, Emanuel’s son-in-law, Isaac Mock, told him that Henry and Mrs. Heckman were enjoying themselves at the Klingers Gap Tavern. Emanuel did not believe him, so Isaac took him to the tavern. William Heckman told them that Henry was not there, but Emanuel pushed his way into the back room. There, he found his son and Mrs. Heckman sitting at a table with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“This is no place for you,” Emanuel said to Henry, “Go home.”

“I guess I know what is good for myself. I’m old enough now,” Henry replied and burst out laughing.

Enraged, Emanuel struck a sharp blow across his face. He was ready to strike again when Henry drew a revolver and shot his father, point blank, in his right side. The old man fell to the floor. Henry dropped the pistol and fled the scene.

Emanuel Breist died at 11:00 the following morning. The search for Henry proved fruitless; he was never apprehended.

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Source: 

“A Fatal Infatuation,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, December 31, 1884.
“Killed by His Rake of a Son,” Illustrated Police News, January 17, 1885.
“Killed His Father,” Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, the Evening News, January 1, 1885.
“Killing His Father In A Tavern,” New-York Tribune., December 31, 1884.
“A Rake Kills His Father,” New York Herald, December 31, 1884.
“Shost by a Prodigal Son,” Alexandria Gazette, December 31, 1884.

Innocent Man in a Felon's Cell.

In the winter of 1877, Captain Luther Meservey went to sea, leaving his wife Sarah alone in their home in the village of Tenant’s Harbor, Maine. When Sarah was found strangled in her own home, the people of this small but close-knit community were terrified at the thought of a killer in their midst. Nathan Hart, a neighbor of the Meservey’s was tried and convicted on evidence so circumstantial that many in town refused to accept the verdict. The controversy persisted for generations and to this day, the murder of Sarah Meservey is considered one of Maine’s great unsolved crimes.

Read the full story here: 

The Hart-Meservey Murder.

Bloody Butchery.

Robert Kever and William Lowman were walking together on Mississippi Street in Indianapolis around 10:00 the night of January 15, 1880. Without warning, a man jumped from behind a tree and plunged a butcher knife into Kever’s throat. The perpetrator was a butcher named Louis Antenat.

“Aha, God damn you, I’ve got you now!” Shouted Antenat, and with one slash of the knife, he severed Kever’s carotid artery and jugular vein. “He never cut the throat of a hog and drew the dripping knife away more deliberately and with more complacency.” Said the Indiana State Sentinel.

With his dying breath, Kevers said, “I’m gone. Go, Billy, I’m killed.”

Antenat tried to stab Lowman in the chest, but Lowman dodged it and fled down the street. Antenat chased him for half a block, then turned back the other way and went to the home of his employer, Frederick Grafenstein. 

He told Grafenstein what he had done, and Grafenstein advised him to go to the police station and turn himself in. Antenat agreed. On his way downtown, he was overtaken by Police Officer Minor, who escorted him to Central Station.

Lowman told the police that the attack had been unprovoked. He and Kever had stopped into Sprandel’s Saloon to get a beer. They saw the murderer in the saloon but had no difficulty with him. Antenat told a different story. He said the two men had tried to make him pay for their beers, and when he refused, they abused him for being a butcher.

The victim, Robert Kever, was a 23-year-old grocer of German descent. His reputation was generally good, but he was quarrelsome and known to be a bully. “In short,” said the Sentinel, “he was full of expressive bluster and made enemies thereby.” 

40-year-old Louis Antenat was a French immigrant from Alsace-Loraine who had been in the country for seventeen years but had trouble speaking English. He was said to be of a quiet yet sullen disposition. But when excited, his fury knew no bounds. His wife had divorced him for drunkenness and cruel treatment, and he was arrested twice for assault.

He told reporters his version of the story:

I tell you how it was. I left the butcher shop, expecting to get me a bottle of beer, went to the little saloon at the corner of Second and Mississippi Streets and stopped up to the bar and called for me a bottle of beer and "pony whisky." The saloon keeper put it on the counter, when two fellows that I don't know stopped up and said they would take a drink too, and told him (the saloon keeper) that the butcher would pay for it. I said no, and the saloon keeper ( he is a good man) told them I was all right and not to make me no trouble; that I paid for my drinks and go about my business. Then one of them said to me, " You are the butcher what whips five men," and said I was no game and would not fight, and began to punch and kick me around...They kept pushing me around, and I left, and they followed me. When I got down to the corner of First and Mississippi Streets, one of them, I did not know any of the men, jumped on me and choked me, and another hit me on the back of the head. I was so mad I don't know what to do, and if I had two revolvers, I would shoot them both.

Antenat was tried for first-degree murder in March 1880. He was easily convicted and sentenced to life in Indiana State Prison North.

His attorney moved for a new trial on the grounds that one juror was asleep during the defense’s closing argument. The juror, Mr. Wakeland, filed an affidavit saying that he felt drowsy and had closed his eyes during the defense argument, but he was not sleeping. He heard every word of the argument. The judge overruled the motion. Antenat was taken to prison to serve his sentence.

In 1889, Indiana Governor Gray commuted Antenat’s life sentence to sixteen years. His good behavior in prison also reduced his sentence by six years. He was released in October 1890.

---

Sources: 

“Another Murder,” Indianapolis leader., January 17, 1880.
“The Antenat Case,” Indianapolis Daily Sentinel, April 13, 1880.
“The Antenat Homicide,” Indianapolis leader., January 24, 1880.
“Bloody Butchery,” Illustrated Police News, January 31, 1880.
“City News,” Indianapolis leader., March 13, 1880.
“Home Notes,” Indianapolis Daily Sentinel, February 9, 1880.
“Indianapolis,” Cincinnati Daily Star., March 4, 1880.
“Stabbed to Death,” Indiana State Sentinel., January 21, 1880.

With Hell in Their Hearts.

New Book!

With Hell in Their Hearts:
The Taylor Boys and the Little Girl Who Lived
by Charles Huddleston

This is one of the most stirring and remarkable true crime stories in the history of America. From bank fraud, bribery, “blind tiger” saloons and cheating at cards, to poisoning, insurance fraud, Mickey Finns, murder and more, this is a fascinating look at the treacherous Taylor Boys. Well-heeled, well-educated, and well-protected by their cronies and cohorts, the two Missouri brothers would stop at nothing in pursuit of their prolific criminal enterprises. But there was one courageous little girl named Nellie Meeks, who brought down their whole operation and brought on a Hanging Bee. Available at Amazon and Audible

The Terrible Tragedy at Uniontown.

Illustrated Police News, January 13, 1883.

Nicholas L. Dukes of Uniontown, Pennsylvania, was outraged to learn that his fiancée, Lizzie Nutt, had been intimate with other men. Instead of confronting Lizzie, he sent a letter to her father, A.C. Nutt, explaining that Lizzie was promiscuous and probably pregnant. Dukes stressed that he was not the daughter’s seducer and, using proper Victorian innuendo, implied that abortion would be the best course for all involved. The resulting conflict between the two families was so divisive and violent that it would take two murders and two controversial trial verdicts to restore honor to Uniontown.

Read the full story here: A Matter of Honor.

A Friend Indeed.

Michael Gorman's Last Look at Sing Sing Prison.

On October 9, 1888, convicted murderer Michael Gorman walked out of Sing Sing Prison a free man after serving 33 years of a life sentence. Gorman, who entered the prison as a young man, was 60 years old when he was pardoned by New York Governor David Hill. During his incarceration, Gorman lost both parents, two brothers died in the Civil War, and his old friends and family forgot him. But one friend, James Dolan, never gave up on him. Dolan petitioned governors through twelve administrations until finally winning a pardon from Governor Hill.

Michael Gorman’s crime occurred on July 1, 1855, in Brooklyn, New York. Three brothers, Charles, Robert, and William Johnson, along with Patrick McDonough and James Campbell, were walking home around midnight on Raymond Street. They came across three men lying face down in the gutter, apparently passed out drunk. They tried to rouse the men, shaking them and telling them they should go home.

One man, Michael Gorman, jumped up in a rage and said he would go home for no one. He drew a dirk knife from his pocket and stabbed Charles Johnson in the abdomen. He then attacked Robert Johnson, wounding him in the back and abdomen, and stabbed Patrick McDonough in the right thigh.

The cries of the wounded attracted the attention of five police officers from the Fourth District. They hurried to the scene and found the three men on the ground bleeding. Officers Skidmore and Casler chased after Gorman. They managed to secure Gorman after a desperate struggle that left Casler severely injured.

The wounded men were taken to City Hospital. 17-year-old Charles Johnson died later that day. Robert Johnson, 25, died twelve days later.  Patrick McDonough, 18, recovered from his injuries. All of the men on both sides of the melee were Irish immigrants.

Michael Gorman was indicted for the murders of Charles and Robert Johnson. He pled not guilty to both counts. Gorman’s trial for the murder of Charles Johnson began on October 23, 1855, and ended three days later. The jury deliberated for 20 hours but ultimately could not accept Gorman’s plea of self-defense. They found him guilty of murder. The judge sentenced him to hang on December 21.

Friends of Michael Gorman worked to have his sentence commuted to life in prison. They managed to get a respite from the hanging until January 18 while they prepared to petition the Governor. They succeeded on the day before the scheduled hanging when Governor Myron H. Clark agreed to commute Gorman’s sentence to life in Sing Sing Prison.

In the years that followed, Michael Gorman was forgotten by all but his closest friends. Chief among them was James Dolan, a boyhood friend who was born in the same parish in Ireland as Gorman. Dolan never stopped working for his friend's release. In the intervening years, he won the support of hundreds of prominent citizens, including the judge who tried Gorman and the district attorney who prosecuted him. He persuaded Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, America’s most influential clergyman, to plead for Gorman’s release. Dolan petitioned governor after governor with no success until 1888, when Governor David Hill agreed to pardon Michael Gorman.

Governor Hill was initially reluctant, worried the 60-year-old Gorman would be unable to support himself. Dolan signed a bond to provide for his friend the rest of his days. The Governor yielded and granted Gorman’s release.

"I have made up my mind to stop thinking of my prison days and to enjoy the rest of my life as best I can,” Gorman told reporters. 1,200 inmates cheered as the old man walked down the corridors of Sing Sing for the last time and through the door to freedom.

---

Sources: 

“Brutal murder in Raymond Street,” Evening Post, July 2, 1855.
“The Commutation of Gorman's Sentence,” Brooklyn Eagle, January 18, 1856.
“Death of Robert Johnson,” CITIZEN., July 14, 1855.
“The End Of A Long Imprisonment,” New-York Tribune., October 9, 1888.
“A Friend Indeed,” Daily Inter Ocean, October 18, 1888.
“The Fulton Avenue Tragedy, Brooklyn,” New York Herald., July 4, 1855.
“Horrid Murder,” New-York Daily Tribune., July 2, 1855.
“Kings County Court of Oyer and Terminer,” New York Herald., October 25, 1855.
“King's County Court of Oyer and Terminer,” New York Herald., September 19, 1855.
“A Lifetime in Prison,” Sun., October 9, 1888.
“Must Be Hung,” New-York Atlas., December 16, 1855.
“News Article,” New York Herald., December 27, 1855.
“No More Thought of Prison,” evening world., October 10, 1888.
“Released From Prison,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, October 27, 1888.
“Respite,” Albany Journal, December 20, 1855.
“Sentence of Death Commuted,” The Sun, January 19, 1856.

Charley and Mary.

Charley McGill and Mary Kelly.

In 1874, Charley McGill saw Mary Kelly on the street in Columbus, Ohio. He struck up an acquaintance with Mary that soon turned into “desperate infatuated love.” They traveled together throughout Ohio, and although not married, they lived together as man and wife.

Mary was a virtuous girl before meeting Charley, but reportedly, in Cleveland, they lived off Mary’s earnings as a prostitute. After an angry quarrel, Mary moved out. Charley searched for four weeks before finding Mary living in a Cleveland brothel. She invited him to her room, and as they lay together in bed, he pulled out his revolver and shot her in the head.

At his murder trial, Charley McGill pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity, but the jury did not buy it. He successfully appealed the verdict and was retried but found guilty again. McGill was hanged in Cleveland on February 13, 1879.

Read the full story here: Love and Lunacy.

The Buzzell Shooting Case.

Susan Hanson

Susan Hanson of Brookfield, New Hampshire, was sitting in the kitchen with her mother and brother on the evening of November 2, 1874. Susan was knitting, trying to relax in preparation for a court appearance the following day. She was suing Joseph Buzzell for breach of promise. Around 7:00, peace in the Hanson kitchen was shattered by a shotgun blast fired through the window. Buckshot and lead hit Susan in the face and neck, killing her instantly.