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.

His House His Castle.

Sometime after 11:00, the night of January 15, 1888, Mrs. Emma Belden was awakened by someone ringing the front doorbell. She went to the door and heard the person trying to get inside.

“Who’s there,” she called.

“Let me in,” a gruff voice responded.

“You can’t get in.”

The man outside started kicking the door, trying to break in.

A Fan's Obsession.

James M. Dougherty was a telegraph lineman in Brooklyn who studied meteorology, electricity, astronomy, and other sciences in his spare time. He dabbled in a little of everything until 1887 when he saw actress Mary Anderson and she became his sole obsession. He followed her wherever she performed and became convinced that a group of evil conspirators was keeping him from his true love. In 1889, the police arrested Dougherty for stalking Mary Anderson. Doctors pronounced him insane and sent him to the King’s County Insane Asylum in Brooklyn. Dougherty escaped from the asylum, only to return two weeks later with two loaded revolvers to murder one of his doctors.

Read the full story here: Lunatic Dougherty.

The Schoonmaker Tragedy.

Harry and Edith Schoonmaker of Brooklyn, New York, appeared to have a perfect marriage in 1888. Henry D. (Harry) Schoonmaker was from a prominent Brooklyn political family. He had a substantial job as a salesman for a gas fitting company and had recently received a pay raise. The couple had a 14-month-old son.

“No more happy and loving couple could be found,” said Harry’s father, Col. John B. Schoonmaker, “So far as I knew, they never had a quarrel, and all was love and happiness.”

But in December 1888, Harry began acting strangely. His parents noticed he was irritable, and his talk was flighty. Others said he was “…alternately excited and depressed as if he was addicted to the use of opium or some other drug.” 

A Mafia Murder?

 

In 1896, Salvatore Serrio was killed in a shootout at the Brooklyn saloon of Joseph Catanazaro. The police arrested several Italian men allegedly involved in the melee. Throughout the summer, the police and newspapers referred to the case as a Mafia vendetta. Saloonkeeper Catanazaro and other prominent members of Brooklyn’s Italian community vehemently denied the existence of any such organization as the Mafia.

Read the full story here: Italian Vendetta.

A Red Path of Jealousy.

 

Martha Place, driven by jealousy, strangled her stepdaughter.

Read the full story here: The Brooklyn Murderess.

The Fate of a Seducer.

There was no question that Fanny Windley Hyde killed George W. Watson; it would be up to the jury to decide whether this act was first-degree murder, or if Fanny was “under a weight of grief that could not be resisted.”

Read the full story here: A Weight of Grief. 

Picture from Illustrated Police News, February 8, 1872.

A Weight of Grief.

Fanny Windley Hyde

Fanny Windley began working in the factories of Brooklyn at age ten. When she was fifteen, Fanny was “seduced” by her forty-five-year-old employer, George W. Watson. Watson’s unwanted attention continued for the next two years, even after Fanny's marriage. Then one day, on the stairway of the factory, she countered Watson’s lewd advances with a gunshot to the head. There was no question that Fanny Windley Hyde killed George W. Watson; it would be up to the jury to decide whether this act was first degree murder, or if Fanny was “under a weight of grief that could not be resisted.”

A Fatal Jealousy.

Deidrich Steffens, a bottler of lager beer, was making a delivery on Park Avenue in Brooklyn, the afternoon of April 17, 1883, when he was called to by John Cordes, a wholesale grocery dealer. Cordes was standing in front of the grocery store of Steffens’s friend, Diedrich Mahnken, and as Steffens crossed the street, Mahnken emerged from his store brandishing a “British bull dog” revolver. Without a word Mahnken fired five shots into Deidrich Steffens—four to the head, one to the chest.

A Troubling Spirit.

John Delaney met Mary Jane Cox in October 1886; she smiled at him as they passed each other on Fulton Street in Brooklyn, and he turned to follow her. She was 17-years-old, he was 15. Mary Jane did not refuse his advances outright, but gave him her address and told him to write to her. Their relationship progressed quickly, and eight months later, Mary Jane told John she was pregnant, and he had to do something about it.

John said he had already told her he would marry her, but Mary Jane rejected this saying they were both too young; he would have to find something else. On June 2, 1887, he gave her a glass bottle containing a clear liquid. What he told her at the time is uncertain, but the next morning Mary Jane was found dead in the kitchen of the house where she worked as a domestic servant. An autopsy showed that her death was caused by some irritant poison like arsenic, and the bottle found in a pocket of her dress was half-filled with a solution of arsenic.

Lunatic Dougherty.

James M. Dougherty was an industrious young man in Brooklyn in the 1880s. He worked as a lineman for the Postal Telegraph Company and in his spare time he studied meteorology, electricity, astronomy and other sciences. He dabbled in a little of everything until after watching a play he became obsessed with the leading lady, Mary Anderson, and his love for her became his sole controlling passion.

He would go wherever she was performing and do whatever he could to be close to her. In 1887, Miss Anderson traveled to Europe, and Dougherty followed. By this point, he believed that Mary Anderson loved him as well, but she was surrounded by a group of conspirators dedicated to keeping them apart. They were controlled by Antonio Fernando de Navarro, his chief rival for Mary’s affections, who would marry her in 1890. While in Liverpool in 1887, Dougherty believed that the conspirators had tried to poison him, so he moved back to America.

Murder at the Pool Table.

Thomas H. Jones, aged 21, was planning to leave Brooklyn on October 5, 1880, to start a new life in San Francisco. The night before his planned departure he went to say goodbye to his friend George Secor and the two young men went to a lager beer saloon run by N. Debrowski on Atlantic Street to play billiards.

Between games, they went to the bar for some soda water. As they were placing their order John J. Dwyer entered the saloon, extremely intoxicated. He stood next to Jones and Secor and said, “I’ll take whiskey for mine.”  Neither man knew Dwyer and they ignored him; Debrowski told him that he had no whiskey.

Italian Vendetta.

The saloon owned by Joseph Catanazaro was a meeting place for Italian men in South Brooklyn. On May 28, 1896, William King, who was shooting dice at Catanazaro’s overheard two men arguing in the back room. Nino Prestijiacomo had come to Brooklyn from Boston to settle a score with Giacchino Cocchiara, and Salvatore Serrio was defending Cocchiara who had been his friend since they were boys in Palermo, Sicily.

Miser Henry’s Murder.

Charles W. Henry was a cruel and heartless miser. In 1895 he was 70-years-old, living in Brooklyn with his wife and 39-year-old son William. Though Henry was a wealthy man, he kept his family in a state of poverty, spending little on food and the most basic amenities. Their house was large, but the inside was filthy with dust and clutter. Mrs. Henry’s room had a bare floor and a single cot, while Charles slept on four chairs in a row, alternating back and front held together by tape. Mrs. Henry was frail and emaciated, wearing the same clothes she had for twenty years. Charles kept a daily ledger of household expenses, each day on a separate card, the cards were tied together in bundles and the stacked bundles went back many years. An example of an extravagant day was Christmas 1894 when 54 cents was spent on dinner for three.

The Brooklyn Murderess.

When William W. Place’s first wife died, he was anxious to remarry, looking for a mature woman who was a good housekeeper and most importantly could take care of his young daughter, Ida. In 1893, he hired a servant named Martha Savcoll, a widow from New Brunswick, New Jersey, to keep house at their Brooklyn home. He was happy with her work and she seemed to lavish a great deal of affection on Ida. Soon William was showing her more attention than would naturally be given to a hired servant, and in a month or two he was seen with her at the theater.

After a whirlwind courtship, despite objections from his relatives who thought she would bring him trouble, William married Martha Savcoll. Sure enough, not long after the marriage, Martha’s true nature came out; she had a quick temper and she often quarreled with other family members. She was annoyed that William had put the house in Ida’s name. She wanted her adopted son to live at the house and William objected. But the biggest difficulty was Martha’s jealousy of William's affection for his daughter. Ida played piano and loved to accompany her father who had a fine tenor voice. They also shared a passion for amateur photography. Martha resented the time they spent together and had been heard to say, “Ida and her father will be married someday, I suppose.”

Williamsburg Stabbing Affray.

The night ended in a melee at Henry Shear’s lager-beer saloon in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn on January 6, 1868, and Henry Shear himself was fatally stabbed. There were two versions of how this tragedy occurred. It was first reported that Otto Schade had come into the saloon for beer but had no money. Shear, being an amiable young man, told Schade he was welcome to all the beer he wanted and could pay later. Schade took full advantage of this offer and “while in a hilarious state” decided to show the other patrons some card tricks. Not everyone enjoyed the show, and someone knocked the cards from Schade’s hands. Schade took umbrage at this, a fight ensued and Schade was roughly handled. Henry Shear intervened and tried to make peace, but Schade had drawn has jackknife and was swinging wildly. Unable to distinguish friend from foe he plunged the knife into Shear’s left breast. As soon as he could, Schade left the saloon, unaware of what he had done.

The Corn Field Murder.

Sarah Alexander, a seventeen-year-old Jewish immigrant from Poland, left her home on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on December 12, 1875, to look for a job. She never returned. When she was still missing the following day her family placed an announcement in the New York Sun asking or information on their missing girl. Her uncle, Israel Rubenstein, noticed in the same edition of the Sun, a description of a murdered girl found in Brooklyn exactly matching that of Sarah Alexander. He later identified the body as his niece Sarah, but he never dreamed that her killer was his own son Pesach.

The Brooklyn Wife Murder.

Little Murders

 

(From The National Police Gazette, November 10, 1883)
 

The Brooklyn Wife Murder.  

 

A Saloon Keeper, Prompted by the Green-Eyed Monster,
Kills his Better Half.

 

The shooting of Mrs. Thomas Young by her husband formerly a clerk in the Internal Revenue Department, and latterly a saloon keeper and politician, has created much excitement in the city of Brooklyn. The affair occurred on Tuesday, Oct. 23. Husband and wife had quarreled for some days, and on the 20th ult. Mrs. Young, who was a woman of great personal beauty, left the conjugal roof and went to live with her mother, Mrs. Mary Cole, at No. 95 Tompkins avenue. On the 23d Young called at this place and asked his wife to return to live with him. She refused emphatically. To his further entreaties she said,

“You have often threatened to kill me, and I know you intend to do it now. You have a pistol in your pocket, and you have come here to kill me.”

Young said he had no such intention, and denied that he had a pistol. He then appealed to his mother-in-law, and asked if he could not go into a private room with his wife, so that they could talk the matter over. If he could see her alone, Young said, he could induce her to return to his home. Both mother and daughter objected. Young again denied that he had any murderous intention, but even while he was speaking his wife saw him draw a pistol from his pocket. She ran from a back room on the first floor, where they had been talking, toward a front room, but before she could escape Young fired directly at her, the ball entering her abdomen.

James McCabe, who lives in the upper part of the house, ran down stairs when he heard the shot. Seeing Young with a pistol in his hand and Mrs. Young lying on the floor. McCabe knocked the husband down and took the pistol from his hand, and held him until the arrival of Roundsman O’Reilly, of the Thirteenth Precinct. After the pistol had been taken from his hand, Young got down on his knees and begged his wife to say that he had not intended to shoot her. Mrs. Young could not speak, but her mother said that no such statement could be made truthfully, because she had seen Young take deliberate aim at her daughter. On the following day the latter died and Young was held to await the action of the grand jury. Jealousy was the cause of his trouble with his wife.

---

Reprinted from "The Brooklyn Wife Murder." National Police Gazette 10 Nov 1883.

The Brooklyn Barber.

A farmhand walking through an oat field in Watervliet, New York on August 7, 1873, came across the corpse of a one-armed man at the top of a ravine. Decomposition had set in and the man’s facial features were all but obliterated by the sun. A razor found on the ground near the body inclined the coroner to think the death was a suicide, but a closer examination revealed that, in addition to having his throat cut, the man had been shot nine times in the head and chest. There was nothing on the body to indicate the identity of the man except for a business card from a barbershop in Brooklyn, 150 miles south of Watervliet.

A Woman Scorned.

William Goodrich paid a visit to the lodging of his brother Charles, on Degraw Street in Brooklyn, on March 21, 1873. Getting no response at the door William entered the house to search for his brother, and found Charles  lying dead on the basement floor, neatly posed, as if laid out by an undertaker. Charles had been shot in the head, and lying on the floor near his hand lay a revolver, suggesting suicide. But William Goodrich knew his brother too well to believe this.

“You never did this yourself!” he said, “This is murder! Not suicide!”