iass Coaches
nited Trains
‘ Coase
nd and Eugene
‘vs to rtland
Tickets East and North
sets and check baggage through
‘ Seattic, Great Northern, North-
Oregon
> SL ecto
| O.R. GULLION, M. D.
limite? to the
eye, ear, nose and throat
’ H Graduate Nurse Attending
306 White Temple, Eugene, Ore.
4
’ Practice
;
‘
a7 1?
Want a Wheel?
Gun Hodes hes the biggest
bargains in bicycles. Better buy
now.
‘now that
tomorrow
*
CREC 4
ako?
7.
ascer
Oxford:
ASE IEA RIS EERE 1
count and
Sl NY MLA ROS TIES
ES AY SES
See ae ee ons
RS
poe
a ss
pee een Sieve tat
Trae ees
Roe senyev?
Beant Baa
Sra ae et
fete canes ES
a ae hee
eperes mags
Paki Satceticaceeom ene
SERIES “SNe AER ESOT EO
ane
bey would get if they told.
mips Biba:
Anothe
PPE EES ee ee ey
SALEM, March 22—George
and Charles Humphreys were
banged this morning at 8:05
for the murder of Mrs. Eliza
fith, a widow aged 56, who Co
resided in. a lonely cabin four =
witcs southwest of Philomath,
ihe Humphreys made no
statement when — they ap-
peared upon the seaffold,
Charles, the younger, who had
veen Jess concerned at all
other times, wag probably the
most nervous of the two.
PP eb be he oe oe oe oe op
The Humphreys did not talk uwpor
cuffold, but they did tall freely
‘day night in response to questions
ited the story of the murder
mplicated another man who had -} rea n A
ed that Mrs. Grittith be robbed, Rees ‘
went with
i owith
hina
Y deposited in the
Henkle mith dann, This
Mrs. Griffith from he-
was contbing her hair,
votan struggled and her assail-
tied her hands close up about
head, the Humphreys helping to
il her. Her death Wis a surprise,
ailant forced them to go on
ad of him and the upstairs was
naucked, A tea box containing
it $100 was found, He gave
re 330, and of this Coarles got
This assailant carried the body
‘cf the way to the mill dain, al-
xh the brothers Save him a little
ef. | When thev left the body the
al party told them they knew what
* the
ittucked
fo as she
why they had never told
ory, they said they were afraid,
knew the man who led them to
him would kill them.
‘men differed in their stories
“ttloularg that were not vital.
“ad the lamp wag turned over,
«the other said the chimney was
xed off, George said he carried
body a part of the way, while
! id he didn’t ear ry it at all.
“2 did not discuss the story in
‘hey had told of ravishing
r victim,
rif Grant, of Polk county, was
“the boys” yesterday. Grant
Dever believed them guilty of
‘Ving and executing the crime.
“td Known then many years, and
{o see them immediately after
“ere implicated, He talked with
'd never had occasion — to
his mind,
‘Gellatly and District Attor-
+ Wilson were with the pris-
Night, and Sherite Gellatly
“but Atlorney Wilson came
esterday evening,
’
ASK & DAGGER TRYOUTS
NEXT THURSDAY EVENING.
"2d Semester Production Will hs
in May,
| the till.
|} as ‘the bandits climbed into the
hin { hardy: 4
water |
| Ty
& FE | a PRR SES
a Cpuiag Pwr emt
Ww te
| PFs é : Ma cai
1x ¢ yl i 2 Var
Nera |
Aut
xe oe &s
ana
if} av
Sd
LO 4c Cpr es
vy z °
iAECEYI
‘
#0 & 2
Ret. hiy.b.
Corvallis,
* (Special to G.-T.
. I )
| NEW YORK, March 22
fe!
‘fe
When the Oregon
| tutes service on the bi
X-! city next Tuesday, De
with their, Salem, will be in char
Oilice at the east end .
ette bridge. Mr. Ke
chiet clerk in the ver
-—After e
changing hundred of shots
quarry firing from the tonneau of a}
fast speeding automobile, the police |
captured seven taxicab bandits in the fice at Salem for seve:
business section carly today. Becom- ing te that Position f:
ing confused in the height of 'the bat-/ of the Great Norther
tle, the chauffeur ran his car into the! jg 4 thorgughly comp.
sidewalk, smashing the engine. The ; fied representative wit]
police then Swooped down upon the | ed experience in the tr:
bandits and arrested them. The ban-! and accounting depar
its entered the Cafe Zeppelin, held up! railway service, An
the proprietor and secured $230 from | vallig business men ky
The police were summoned! and have no hesitancy
auto-' his selection for the mn
mobile, and a hail of bullets followed ! Sreatly to be desired,
them. They answered with a fusi- The 0. E.'s first trai:
Jade before being captured,. No one |; Of Corvallis Tuesday me
Was injured, . | the train having heen }
: —— vallis on Monday,
is not probable
A portion of the
ote
!
witli
wt
5 ve fe
Bid oj
pation and some sort o
the arrival o;
Wiy at the gates of 4
|
| probable
|
' fitting
that there \
flags, and an official wo
tail to be published on
Many of the older pe
lived across the river a:
(Special to G.-T.)
CHICAGO, March 22.—Partially
restored communication with the have interests there
storm-swept districts in the south} pecial interest in the O
| and middle west indicate that the} Unele Joe Yates wants
death ist will reach one some. fa: | kno train, and W. EEA
with six hundred injured, some fa-| know which he loves 1
i tally. The damage to crops and prop-; or the new stee) bridge
| erty, conservatively stated, is placed |
at five million, Alabama probably |
suffered the heaviest loss of life. Mo-| ma
bile reports att least thirty dead, and |
this number may be materially in-} ej
creased when outlying points are | .
reached. The number of dead in;
Tennessee ig expected to exeeed
twenty, but the exact list will not be}
obtainable for several days. H
|
|
| (Special
to G.-
reer pasos
IN, Mare!
4 WASHING?
Moore today resigned as
United States weather
resignation to become ¢
31. The resignation Wa:
“ ‘ Secretary of Agriculture
Fi (Special to G.-T.) , [iS reported that Moore
OLYMPIA, March 22.—Governor lenneed hase 2 ;
Lester has signed the bil abolishing | USE Ne Was not appoin
a abate ade ; i | ot aericulcure. Houston
capital punishment
in) Washington, | 0! b p 3
A ; Ve this resignation, Moore j
the law to go Into effect June Path, | > ane
Ste
ws
want ads bring |)
ii
Gazette-Times
fy
quick results,
be,
Theatre!
O wesindc. ]
Qod Yotels
“The Press Gane” (S;
i me SPOKANM, Mer
“Oh! Th-° Boob”
bers” were Capt
‘¥ were al t
Two Biographs. they were about toe
sare of the Bmpress 'l.,
Thursday evening, March 27th,
Dramatic Club Room at Shep-
the tryout for
"hip in the Mask and Dageer
held. The tryon't will start
at 7 o'clock and will last
“30 at the latest,
semester's
tly
those Who are desirous of en-
the Mask and Dagger should
‘their names at once to the
ee ny the
TMi thee js cOoMposed Of Boop
AT aT
charge of tryout, |
Teer syted 4
| of. ;
| oe *
“tf
chants’ Police Oficeer
Thoy had enowsh nitre
blow up a whole seetion
They threatened to
and the ofieer wy, but ds
to doit, Both were lode
*/ lice station. There was
Fl dollars tn the sate
PALACE THEATER, ta
. a nea WINN
ols age
“The Prosecuting Attorney” |}! if Y
ritdl
NeTN
“The Buckskin Coat”
A Kalem,
flow
“The Old Monk's Tale” *
An Edison
p
«
t¥s
SF
Lig t
A Walem, ©) Wt
ne aes
5
ee ‘
3
igs a teed anes Tey
: ——
/ PRICE FIVE CENTS
fa? on afternon trip. with ditner tn
feq'e morning at Afbany. Mahy are
mpoking forward sleo to tha Alses
aq ip which will be arratiged foe later.
hen Wren. Blodgett and Kings Val-
ayy §re Usted. Those who attended
qesterday’s exctitsion dectgre that it
4 hould be made At andual event.
OF THE
SOLLYNG DOME
/AVBELLEOUNTAR
y
Se
At the Beflfountatn. o¢casi xe
terday, N. R. Moore responded | the
address of weteome bt M, M, Waite.
\ He attenspted to tak, made Mf fizzle
' ¢ thal, and grabbed @ bunth Se Da la
‘\ver, from a handy pocket. “Certain
/‘hases of what “he read seemed to
. tke thb riajbitities of thé aifdiéace
1 there have been more that & few
‘esta that the paper be published.
use Of the fact that sone mem=
of the Corvallis party Willain-
Slandered were not pfeséht at
nite, and the added tadt! that
' I four more pages of this hate-
| Steré. inadvertently misplaced,
edré not read. ihe request for
Jcation Is not dented, though we
ait éntirely probable that'what
med falrly humorous under the tn-
iratlon of the oceasion, wilt! fall
at when seen In print. Following
1¢ athtement that Corvallis business
on Were glad to get to Bellfoditain,
r. Mdbré sald: < $8 (UM
“Ovétrin with tobble skirt#y Wash-
hate and 500 parties, why should
not ¢ glad tu escape to a land of
* and honey where womdbkind
P resemble the original Evé, and
ching horse shoes takes the place
pinochle and waferé at 12°p. m.?
ib paving at $10 @ foot BHE Ice
; :
we not be glad to get to southern
Benten where
eee trom moiihtain’te mhountata
hever been thought ofS With scraps
: the city counetl for breakfast, pe-
fitlons for booster funds at dinner
ind consideration of candidates for
Mayor at supper time, why should we
t be glid to get to BRellfountata
Where all is peace and love and the
thinky doodle panteth only fot such
7 excitement as there ts in a friendly
hout at croqtiet? Ladies and gentle-
ten. there are something more than
7.000 featons why the Corvallis
BUFtness men are slad to be with you
ay. but T shall not name all of
them. Thece reasons are not wholly
of the negative charactor. While we
are glad to leave behind us for a day
Uttle worries we constantly mag-
Alfy Into Intolerable difficulties, we
ate glad to get to Bellfountain for the
BPecific joys this Incomparable sec-
tidn has to offer. Benton county can
boast of no riche? tand, no finer
crope, ho more hospitable people. no
mare Aggtesaively, Progressive citt-
res, and tt ts a kreat pleasure to
‘visit a sectidn 00 fudtly tamed for ite
gederal worth. Corvattis business
fod know well thal Hellfountain has
doe {ts full shafe in taking the
tomaty seat the pitosperous commu-
nity tt ¢ today, and they also know
that In the future Bellfountain {s to
play eyen a larger part in the ‘de-
velOpment of Benton, the Blue Ri{b-
bo County and Corvallis, the Athens
of Oregon. Corvallis business men
come to you today to congratulate
you On the achievements of the past,
the ‘prosperity that is everywhere
evidenced in the present and to felic-
Itdte with. you om thé prospests for
yout ééeds, yqut hopes, alms and am-
DIvORA, “that we may get into more
intohitgent sympathy with you. Cor
‘shoyld be but a big brother to
tea Raat
make for the general
progress of this community, and we
though We are careless, sometimes
neglectful and too frequently give
little heed td the cry from Macedo-
nia, {n truth, way down in our bearte
we have a feeling for you, Your
sacs at 18e and 25e per, why should
need Ie our need, your failure ts our
the. Blortour green |
, i .
hd keep-off-the-ptase Wnts have to We met needs pull together for
the future.) We ‘come ates-to learn |’
dA ‘ RE Rs ee oN
ate here today to assure fou that, |
{ failure, your progress our progress.
We are Indissolubly linked together
jand most rise or fall together, Utere-
{a bright and glorious ruture. And,
ibrethren of Bellfountain, do not
[make the nifstake of delfeving that
the dawn of a more glorious future is
not atready gGn creeping over the
horizon. Just as sure as 2 and 2
are 4, Benton county is to participate
in a wonderful growth that ts to e
tendyover the entire auite. -The de-
velopment of orchard fands in thie
county—in thie section In particular
—the absolute certainty of the @lec-
trification of the Carver road and {ts
extension to Engene, and thé prob-
ability of that Hine becoming «# link
fo a main line of the HIN or Harrt-
man systems, the coming of the Al-
bany Interurban Atbrough Corvallis,
Philomath and {nto the Alsea coun-
try, the tapping of the great timber
sections and erection of mills. the
extraordinary development of the
Agricultural College. and the com-
ing of men of means and broad views
brought here by the activity in or-
chard lands near Monroe, Bellfoun-
tain and Alpine, as well as in other
sections of the county, is as certain
to bfing to old Benton a growth and
prosperity that no decade of the past
on dreamed of. During the past
ten {years Beaton county bas kept
well toward the front of the proces-
sion} and during the next ten years
wilt forge to the topmost rung of the
ladder of fame and remain there,
While hearkening to your words of
welcome, we bring you this word of
cheer. We thank you again for your
kindly reception and to prove to you
that Corvallis is glad ofthis Oppor-
ie (Continued on Page 2)
TO THE VOTERS OF CORVALLIS.
So ENS dg ts
Thereby respectfully ansounce my-
self as a candidate for the position of
}eity marshal of Corvallis, and re-
lepectfully solleit your support at the
{potta at“{Me coming election. If]
| ctpeted, I promise to discharge the
‘Guties of the position impartially,
without fear or favor. Respectfully
; submitted, @ L. BOGARD,
mE |
GAGE OF. -
MURDER
2
wey. Se eeetiameennerd
+ .
Body of Woman
Found in Creek
Near. Philomath = -
_ ~-Mrs. Griffith...
>
e
: ¥ ;
- Mra. Elfea Briain a widow liv’
about five miles weat Pal Ss
on Rock Creek, was'murdered. or come.
mitted suicide Inst night:'Her body =
was found this mogiing {n the Hens. *
kle dain, and there ¢ rumor nere that ~
the body was badly ‘backed and
bruised, {ndicating murder, but tele-
phone connection with taat vicinity
could not be secured before going to
jecait * pte eh ages NY
‘neighbors Inst’ might that she was
not feeling well Mra, Franklin.
went over this morning to see, found -
the {ront door locked and | :
over and things generaily aw he
then rushed .home-and the. male
Franklins went on @ search findlag
the body as stated. 89°00 ee ahs
Mra. Griffith eold her farm & few: --;
days ago, xetting $1,000 cash pay-
inent. This feeds color to the idea
of murder, But the $1,000 was
banked. . eh ts ; pate os
“1 JUNE Ist. TO
Se ek PAB ES RR iS
See
i
;
amb aed Shacs al cacnand he Pama in PATE AT: .
% 5 mM SUE EY Ge a he coe ; :
a3, wee
SUIT SALE ¢, AT
JUNE 10th
eof this simple stateme t will be wadily appreciated by hr
SEEN Gs
jeer
acihe so:
fa.
ae
.
ee ee Te i salen ceee sikankth eine oa
say
a> [/G/ 3
vs: Hooray for the women now swatting the
sn asevecenersooes
Allthe News
Ail the Time
eed
mae ne eer
F. N09, 221
~ cores!
sorte nears
Ta
Le
“1 &
aah
CORVALLIS, BENTON COUNTY, ORE
GON, SATURDAY, M
1, La
cit
)
H ‘
ni
Sy whit} .
ra salreds of
atching
: ne T fon Their
Independence for
a Long Time.
pak fferial to C.-T.)
any POUR, March 1.—-Insisting
“Don either b whys yy eregention toward Independ-
3rd an Sta athe Phppines is ‘unwise,
Sheng econ Mt canstdered and inad-
tee htec’ Presotent Tatt in an article
York Tribune today
Eat ten ary ©ajsaes the freedom of the
282th i sm giad,” the presi-
; ruse one more appeal
wn brother, It is
‘ale to contemplate a
#eant Independence to
jet nov, without the sus-
“*@ desire to escape re-
¥: geen t mae pai to eemtemplate the
fo ttre who imposes like
$54 “#6 an inimature son
Nee
Fi Ppa Boye
Pa Maan og
iq
iN,
tia G.-TL)
Marchi
1.— Follow-
“on of the senate yes-
s€ today passed the
biting the shipment of
eet tu dry states, over-
LEDS ytt iete A vote of 244
* senate passed the bill
4 to SY R Vote of 63 to 21.
hy
i: ; Re ey otro te ital punishment, but becuse, from
Deidenter gies tha Philippines “and what we can learn, there is grave
5 a oa esattarion.. (tic uttiee doubt that the men are guilty. Those
a i “4 who knew the men vwvhile residents of
Fe Brey 3h Os eink the: aa- this county, are practically united in
fh ONE sa a MOCO Ss ten 8 opinion that they are cuiltless
Ee jot the crinic charged againsi them.
ETE Ne Wy a They declare that the men do not
rm rey possess enough nerve, or sense to
commit such a erime and cover all
ih passed both houses
Petitions in Their
Behalf 6
culated Says Dai-
las Paper.
Being Cir-
“A movement is now on foot look-
ing to executive clemency for the
Humphrey brothers, former residents
of Polk county, doomed to death by
the noose at Salem for the murder of
Mrs, Eliza Griffith near Philomath in|
the summer of 1911,” says the Polk
County Observer, editorially, and
continues: ‘Petitions are being eir-
culated in localities where the men
have formerly lived, and it is prob-
able that the people of Dallas and
vicinity, who knew the men will be
asked to sign such appeals. The Ob-
server is of the opinion that these
men should not be hanged for the
crime, and this belief igs not based
wholly upon our disapproval. of cap-
traces so completely and so cunning-
ly as the murderer did in this case.
While living here they were known
as harmless, ignorant, uncultivated
individuals, and the worst that could
be said of them was that they were
shiftless and ambitionless. When the
first news of their alleyed ‘‘confes-
sion” was received here, it was dis-
credited by those who knew the men
best, and it has never been accepted
as truthful even to this day. It is
said that the Humphreys could have
been made to say anything under
proper conditions, and few have he-
lieved their story of the Philomath
murder, or the many other crimes
which they are said to have ‘con-
fessed.” At any rate there is a large
element of doubt in the whole affair,
Ladie
An
AD
g
s Auxiliary to
Commercial Club
In Favor Cheaper
Headgear.
7
Once again has high-priced head-
fear been given a solar plexus blow
in little old Corvallis. Following the
lead of the Tuesday Afternoon Read-
ing Club, the ladies of the Comnier-
cial Club Auxiliary gathered at the
club rooms yesterday and in a season
of oratory literally jumped on,
lastingly swatted, eternally lam-
basted and otherwise maltreated the
“high cost of living’ insofar as it ap-
plies to the price of feminine head-
gear. While the ladies did not pass!
any resolutions that might be broken |
evere-
“If there {gs no
when the legisiatu
week, the legislature
sine die,” says the Sa
“Tf it cannot adjourn
of the laws it has pass
ciption of those conta
geney clause, can go
day the legislature :
Ing sine die, another
the time for the *
effect.
“This is thought !
torney General t. °?
Representiutive Jam:-
lawyers 2s good as an
on the morrow, they did express
themselves very energetically, de-
cidedly to the point. and went on
record as violently opposed to the idea j
of paying outrageous prices for the!
peculiarly constructed head adeen-
ment necessary to meet tire discos!
of. Dame. Fashion. ‘Pace inc
cussed prices, thourbt Stood os.
to buy a hat xood enough for ins
body, and if it would notes
ladies could revert to the old eucto:,
not wholly extant even now.
throwing an apron over the head. |
Finally, no exact limit wa's set oa the
price that might be paid by Auxiliary j
members, but the high-falutin figure |
was talked into the background and;
given a reserved seat far in the rear.
The ladies say they mean business
A Fine Meeting.
At yesterday’s meeting of the!
Auxiliary twenty new members were Y
voted in. A specially enjoyable fer}
ture of the program was 4 tals onj
“Pareel Post’ by Postmaster TI: W.
Johnson, Musical numbers gr oily
enjoyed were furnished by Mrs. 0 ork!
Rickard and Miss Patterson. Ar ‘he}
psychological moment dainty retvesh-
ments were served. The Ladies \ux-
iliary is alive and active, and oo 4
started on a campaign of pros.
Pheer weed VP Dien we Fede
i houses +
tcept
' ‘
Pnor adjonriod,
i) CHNHOE Wi jotory,.
é a a
the dust off a musiv
“tt is therefore or
.uorum is presen?
20et
WAKGCT
‘Have
:
wWhts wv
surthermore, | tro
cof the member
ork, it not very
cumsite forty io
vili be here on tin
What Con -t:
The constitutio:
thirds of e2ch ho
a quorum, butoa
adjourn from
ouipel the attendan:
ers,” This all
than a quorur: ean
even adjourn sige :
“The consti?
aet shall take effecs
from the end
the same sic!
In ers
emergenes
is
We
ae kd
eet,
is
mation
a
eo the
preamble or
“The
in the
twenty.
until Taesesy
1 Laadihd Jui tne sews ; ' ees
on All the Time PB | koe” eae
ee” hed A } H a4 As
nd Portland t ~ et” pte ale daa xcia/
Local. Local, jf SOL. IV. NO. 238 3, BENTON cn
CSL spi. wT
4:45 pom. 255 p.
5:50 p.m. 9:00 p.
J
Pees om crm
if! ¥ 7 My om UT 4
|
'
Hat Gatien HERA Ios ad
HULU
LR
msc
exsrets
Tie 5 p.m. 00 p.
EUGENE
Local. Limited.
2300 p. om A &-
ia 3p. SAM Para 1 1 5
7 oy. om.
CEO De i
—
SSN pF) = ea
e
-33 Coaches
ited Trains Be age Pay A
ado Hd “Eocene ‘Men Say Another|/Police Get Seven,Popular Salez
Was Implicated/ Auto Bandits As| to Represer
vs to Portland} — In The Death of| They H Electric L
Tickets East and North _ (| Mrs. Griffith stabiishm | Corval
ets and check baggage through
a
seattle, Great Northern, North- : ; z
. ' i a eo CS os (Special to G.-T.) . W hen the Oregon Ff
ch tutes service on the bran
city next Tuesi
Charles Humphreys as * changing hundred of shots with their er ‘abe be ne
i * Forged this morning at 8:05 et Apt ollice at the east end 43
RAL SOAR 2 2 . : Nee uarry firing m the au of a Hon ts
saprirarenencpenenanuiecenares | -® toe the murder of Mrs. Eliza aUBETY pe ie erpe§ ay eens 0 jette bridge. Mr.
th. a widow aged 56, who fast speeding automobile, the police! chief clerk in the ¢
¥ “ted in a lonely cabin four captured seven taxicab bandits in the’ fice at Salem for 3
$ ‘southwest of Philomath. business section early today. Becom-; ing to that position
» “be Humphreys made no ing confused in the height of 'the bat-!of the Great Northe;
$ ‘nent when they ap- tle, the chauffeur ran his car into the is a thoroughly com) ;
¢ ‘ated upon the seaffold. ‘sidewalk, smashing the ongine. The fied representative with u
tye
n
“
h SALEM, March 22—George NEW YORK, March 22.—-After ex-
, Oregon gg
Practice limited to the
eye, ear, nose and throat
Graduate Nurse Attending
306 White Temple, Eugene, Ore.
harles, the younger, who had police then swooped dewn upon the; ed experience in the trazh
les’ concerned at. all %] bandits and arrested them. The ban- ,and accounting departus
vr times, was probably the its entered the Cafe Zeppelin, held up railway service. A) nturn
t nervous of the two. the proprietor and secured $30 from | vallis business men kno
the till. The police were summoned! and have no hesitaney i:
4
%
&
HOR Hh de de oe he oe oe fe oe oe ob of oe | as ‘the bandits climbed into the auto-; his selection for the posii
i mobile, and a hail of bullets followed | greatly to be desired.
renee es them, They answered with a fusi-| The O. F's first train w
VAla tn Wheel ? i “ t lade before being captured, |
vy Rah a Vv ;
AWW e rnphreys did not talk upon eae No one | of Corvallis Tuesday aaah bi,
; tut they did talle freely | Was injured. the train having been bro
Gua Hodes has the biggest hetive tease t im Fesponse to questions, iz | then SBiAbIe: chat! oo
i recited thy wis Ge wh ait s ¢ £ atau
barjrains in bicycles. Better buy wie AR a Se eta ane Rann gy portion of the Corvallis
now, Crifith be robbed, gaeceg opabe ia | be out to see the first trai
' Him te the house, Eb g heated beye del eae jit is the plan to have on
5 NOt thes bode cetone : d nee hduving the-day- and
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CSL TIE Baws, Henkle mill dam. ‘This mpi rpara gp | fitting the arrival of
. Griffith from be- , Ui. j way at the gates of ins
combing ber hair, jPrebable that there
nostruggled and ler assail- Ea flags. and an official weter
her hands close up about tail to be published on Mi
‘, the Humphreys helping to (Special to G.-T.) } Many of the older peop?
Her death was a surprise, CHICAGO, Mareh 22,—Partially {lived across the river and .
liant foreed them to so on] restored communication with the} have interests there are
Y him and the upstairs was|Storm-swept districts in the south! pecial interest in the O. E
{ A tea box containing|and middle west indicate that the | Uneie Joe Yates wants
3780 was found, He gave} death list will reach one hundred, | first train, and W. Ho Ave:
roo) and of this Gnarles got| With six hundred injured, some fa-| know which he loves most
ilant carried the body| tally. The damage to crops and prop-{or the new steel bridge.
‘te way to the mill dam, al-| erty, conservatively stated, is placed
> the brothers gave him a little|at five million, Atabama probably |
When they left the body the| Suffered the heaviestloss of life. Mo- | PP if ~~
Darts told them they knew what| bile reports a't least thirty dead, and bed Tad ee a5"
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why they had never told|creased when outlying points are] ** re
*, they said they were afraid, | reached. The number of dead in HU EEY
5 :
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‘w the man who led them to| Tennessee — is expected to exceed 48 ed ie ;
would kill them, twenty, but the exact list will not be | i bile U
i differed in their stories} obtainable for several days.
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tetiny i 3 | Moore today resigned as el
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boys” yesterday. Grant Aa eon +9 becunie' ene!
velieved them guilty of . . a tM Porn afiteat re tie
Sand executing the crime. - (Special to G.-T.) igi dk ‘1 &r ev pte ce
own them many years, and OLYMPIA, Mareh S reported: that Moore a
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“ Implieated. He talked with | capital mnishment in’ Washington, |. 7 meee ing
Never had . occasion to the law ¥ go into effect June L4th. : snation, Moore isa
s mind, Tota een Dae
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GENERAL UTILITIES Sivision
Box 314-D, Grand Central Annex, New York City
residence with a “Room and Board” sign in
the window. The plump landlady’s smile
of anticipation faded when she. opened the
door and saw the grim-faced officers instead
of prospective tenants.
When they asked if the young Austrians
were in, she told them that Hauserling was
there but that the other was out. Informed
that they wanted to talk with the former, the
woman shrugged and led them up a long
flight of stairs. She pointed to the end of
the hall. “Last door to the right,” was the
terse direction.
Burns’ knock was instantly followed by
an invitation to enter. Inside they found a
dark-complexioned, rather handsome youth
in an easy chair reading a magazine. His
eyes widened at the sight of the callers.
The Chief introduced himself and the
Sheriff, and then said casually, “We’re look-
ing for a little information, son, and you
might be able to help us.” He paused and
fumbled in his coat pockets. “I seem to be
out of cigarettes,” he told the lad. “Got one
around here?”
Hauserling produced a package and
handed it to Burns. Both officers masked
their jubilation as they noted the brand
was Imperiale. The Chief calmly accepted
one of the smokes, lighted it and then went
on in routine fashion.
Stretching the truth a bit, he told the
youth that someone had prowled the Smre-
kar residence on the previous night and
that, as a matter of course, the police were
checking on everyone who had the slightest
connection with the family.
M “WELL, YOU’RE wasting your time
here,” Hauserling declared. “Matt and I
didn’t leave the house last night. We had
a few drinks in our room and went to bed
about eleven-thirty.”
“In that case,” the Sheriff remarked,
“you'll want to establish your innocence.
We have a witness who may be able to do
that.”
The youth willingly accompanied them to
Headquarters, to which Dr. Hoeye once
more was summoned. Again his reaction
was disappointing. He was positive that
Hauserling was not the one he had glimpsed
running past his house.
After the physician had departed, and the
perplexed officers were quizzing the youth
further, Patrolman Shaw entered the Chief's
quarters. His face was beaming.
“T’ve finally come across something that
sounds good,” he announced. “Irv Miller,
the hardware man, tells me he sold a .38
revolver a couple of weeks ago to a young
dark-complexioned chap. He doesn’t know
his name, but he remembers him perfectly.
Miller is at home if you want to see him.”
The investigators, with Hauserling in their
custody, were at the merchant’s residence in
ten minutes. Asked whether the youth was
the one who had bought the gun, Miller
shook his head. “My customer had a small
mustache,” he said, “and he blinked his
eyes continually.”
Hauserling’s face paled. “Why, that must
be Matt!” he exclaimed:in surprise. ‘He
has a mustache and he blinks his eyes be-
cause the acids at the mill bother them.
But he never had a gun, and he wouldn't
prowl anyone’s house. He’s not a thief.”
“I'm afraid it’s more than burglary,”
Chief Burns said gravely. “Whoever broke
into the Smrekar home shot Mary to death.
We think jealousy was behind it.”
The youth appeared baffied. He declared
that his roommate never had shown the
slightest romantic interest in the-girl, either
while they were boarding with the family,
or later. Besides, how could he have com-
mitted the crime if he hadn’t left their room
on the previous night?
“We'll not worry about that right now,”
remarked the Chief. “What I’m interested
in is the brand of cigarettes he smokes.”
“Why, he smokes Camels.”
Burns frowned. “How come, then, that
we found Imperiale stubs in the Smrekar
yard?” he wanted to know.
The young man thought for a moment.
“Oh, yes, I remember now. Matt finished
his pack last night and borrowed some Im-
periales from me.”
“That’s all I want to know,” said the
Chief. “Where is he now?”
Hauserling replied that his chum had left
the boarding house at eight o’clock that
morning, saying he was going out in the
country. “He’s acquainted with Tom Potter
at Redland,” he added. “I figured he went
out there.”
After releasing the roommate, the investi-
gators drove to the Potter farm five miles
southeast of town. Matt Jancigaj, dark and
handsome and wearing a small mustache,
was there; but he coolly denied the slaying.
He said that he hadn’t seen Mary for weeks,
and that he never had considered her other
than as a friend. He claimed never to have
owned a gun of any kind.
Taken to the courthouse, he maintained
his attitude of. innocence until the hard-
ware dealer identified him as the revolver
purchaser, and Dr. Hoeye said that he was
the person he had seen fleeing the shooting
scene.
The prisoner then admitted the crime. He
had fallen in love with the pretty girl while
a boarder in her home; but she refused to
take him seriously. Even after he and
Hauserling moved out, he attempted to win
her affection; but she continued to treat him
lightly.
Eventually he learned that she and
Charles Koman were having secret dates.
This infuriated him. He decided that if he
couldn’t have Mary, no one else would,
either. :
So he planned what he thought was a
perfect murder. He purchased the revolver
and hid it in his trunk. On the night he
selected for his crime, he saw to it that his
roommate drank enough whisky to put him
in a sound slumber.
When Hauserling was snoring loudly, the
plotter slipped out of bed and dressed. He
stole from the house unobserved and cut
across lots to the Smrekar home. As the
investigators had surmised, he hid in the
shadows of the laurel hedge for some time,
smoking one cigarette after another, until
he was ready to climb the trellis.
MIN HIS getaway, he ran through the
railroad yards, cut over to the Willamette
River, into which he threw the gun, then
doubled back to the boarding house and
got into bed.
Not even his chum was aware that he
had been gone.
The officials experienced a feeling of re-
vulsion at the callous attitude of the 26-
year-old killer. Not a bit of remorse was
expressed on his granite face.
“T'1 admit you planned it pretty well,”
the Chief acknowledged. “It might have
been perfect if you hadn’t worn your work
shoes with sulphur specks on them.”
The confession, of course, absolved Rex
Kline, the hobo, and he was released from
jail when the woman he had frightened re-
fused to sign a complaint against him.
Indicted by the Clackamas County Grand
Jury on November 7th, 1908, for first-degree
murder, the young Austrian went to trial a
week later. On November 17th, the jury,
after only one hour of deliberation, found
him guilty as charged, with no recommenda-
tion of mercy.
Circuit Judge McBride sentenced him to
be hanged, but the date was not set because
of the defense’s plans to appeal to the State
Supreme Court. That body, however, up-
held the verdict, and Jancigaj was executed
at the State Penitentiary in Salem on
October 22nd, 1909.
(Continued
After that I
sat around t
some of the
“When I g
front of the }!
up the steps
told me tha
about overnis
I leave the c
did. IThada
but because
and changed
Byrne said
Avenue and
pawnshop in
McDermot
were you try
“T wasn’t
plained. “Ia
ment ring as
told me he sa‘
so we went
like the ring.
eral regular j
when the offi
Byrne saic
mechanic, b
present time
“Then how
a diamond ri:
“A friend o
I quit my las:
I'm no long-s
so myself, I:
I'll have no t:
New Year’s
able to pay t
Byrne left
brought in f
tractive, bro’
statements.
before noon
and could no:
as she admitt
ring.
“Now that
is going tow
she said ear:
At the L
Whitton, Th«
and Herman
home neight
bors, friends
found that B:
his parents.
“He seems
a lot of mon¢
fellow wit}
job,” a cour
told the offic
“Why not?’
the men sit
the restaur:
plied. “He’s r
“What dad
mean?” ask:
tective Whit:
“He must
had some
saved up w
quit his job,
knows how °
a dollar,” th
replied. “T’)
made a fe\
dred a cot
months ago
new bookn
started up
here and
asked us to g
our play. The
must have gi.
something
help.”
“Does he h
then and the
re’s a service
ere you could
rent. But the
imply walked
ing your own
» complicated.
igs you didn’t
for instance,
ngerprints on
indicate that
i the suicide
were words
t pointed di-
that suicides
through their
in his chair,
“Yes, yes, I
“She played
me to believe
uu?” Peterson
still in his
ellow Jahnke
terrific argu-
e—she threw
for me, that
ing to marry
lanager told
frustration,
Marion. For
ind waited—
the tenants
i be out and
2n, on Satur-
lly came. He
as described
up,” said the
iad finished,
he devil did
gnature on a
.”’ Hubbard
ynolds’ desk
nN could see
“This tells
ty by analyz-
and telling
idy of their
Reynolds.
nert’s signa-
ip, I wonder
sredicted for
ided, “if his
that he was
sun Peniten-
er 24th, 1944,
2 when Rey-
» confession,
urt and was
at Waupun,
t, but, except
lames, which
real charac-
en used.—Ep.
E
2 A RN La me,
(Continued from page 31) desiring an un-
rehearsed reaction, bluntly asked if he knew
that Mary had been shot.
Young Koman’s mouth sagged. “Mary
shot?” he echoed. “Why—that isn’t possible.
There must be some mistake.”
“I'm afraid there isn’t,” Burns said stern-
ly. “Somebody climbed into her bedroom
last night and killed her. We thought you
might know why.”
An expression of utter disbelief etched on
his face, the youth declared that he knew of
no one with the faintest reason to harm his
sweetheart. Then, at the request of the
officers, he told of his association with her.
Living in the same district for two years,
they naturally had been acquainted, al-
though, until a few months before, this ac-
quaintance had been casual. Then they had
fallen in love. After that, instead of in-
dulging in the customary juvenile games of
the neighborhood, they had spent their time
together by themselves.
“We were secretly engaged,” he added.
“We planned to be married when she was
eighteen.”
When the Chief broached his theory that
somebody had shot her because of jealousy,
the young man shook his head. Mary never
had been interested in anyone else, he stated.
@ AS TO whether he and the girl had had
any recent misunderstandings, he replied,
“No.” They always had got along in perfect
harmony. Only the previous afternoon, he
related, they had enjoyed a stroll through
the hills east of town, talking of the time
when they would have their own home.
The youth’s straightforward statements
and his genuine grief convinced the officials
that he was telling the truth. Yet, being too
case-hardened to take anything for granted,
they sought definite proof of his innocence
before dismissing him from their probe.
They soon obtained that proof. His as-
sertion that he had not left home after ten
o’clock on the night before was corroborated
by his mother. The investigators, after
thanking him and his parent for their ready
cooperation, left the house
As they climbed into the squad car,
Sheriff Beatie shot a quizzical glance at the
Chief. “Now what?” he asked wryly.
“I wish I knew,” Burns replied. “It seems
as though the further we go, the less we find
out. At first, it looked as if a burglar or a
sex fiend killed the girl when she screamed.
But we can’t find anything to support that
theory. Then we come to the conclusion
that a frustrated suitor pulled the job. And
now Koman knocks that into a cocked hat.”
“Do you think,” suggested the Sheriff,
“that some maniac is responsible? Every
once in a while somebody goes crazy and
kills for no reason at all.”
Burns slowly shook his head. “I don’t
think that’s the answer. An insane person
wouldn’t have taken the trouble of climbing
up the side of the house to shoot anyone just
to satisfy an urge to murder. He’d just fire
away at the first target he happened to meet.
“No,” the Chief continued..“I’m convinced
that the killer went into Mary’s room for a
definite reason. And as long as we can’t dig
up that reason, we’ll have to look for some-
thing else.”
“Anything in mind?”
“Nothing definite. But I want to have an-
other look around the Smrekar place. We
couldn’t do a very thorough job in the dark,
and it may be that we passed up something
important.”
They drove back to the scene of the
tragedy and launched another tour of the
grounds. A cursory inspection revealed
nothing to tie into the case; but Chief Burns
refused to give up until every inch of the
MIDNIGHT KILLER
It was this determina-
tion that caused him to undertake a close-
range. examination of the grassy surface
surrounding the trellis leading to the vic-
tim’s bedroom window.
A short time later, the Sheriff, who had
busied himself in another part of the yard,
area was gone over.
heard a whistle of excitement. Hurrying
over, he found the Chief studying the turf
underneath the latticework.
Burns motioned for him to bend down
and then. pointed to a number of white
specks. ‘Smell these,” he invited.
The other officer did so. “Sulphur,” was
his verdict.
The Chief nodded. “And the only place
where sulphur is used around here is the
paper mill. So, if the killer left these flecks,
it means he’s employed there, and the stuff
dropped off his shoes.”
“That makes sense,” agreed Beatie. “But
I still don’t see how that will-help us much.
There are hundreds of people working in the
plant.”
“It would be something to dig into,” the
other remarked as his eyes sought more of
the white substance. He found none in the
immediate vicinity; but his search led him
into a laurel hedge that separated the
Smrekar property from the adjoining lot.
Here the investigators not only found
other particles of sulphur, but, between two
of the larger trees, which stood more than
six feet high, they discovered several ciga-
rette butts. They bore the label, “Imperiale.”
There was little doubt in the sleuths’
minds that the slayer had dropped them as
he waited in the seclusion of the hedge for
the opportune time to start his ascent.
“Now we’ll look for a mill worker who
smokes Imperiales, and had some kind of
connection with the girl,” said the Chief.
“First, though, I’d better see if anything
has developed at Headquarters.”
Using a neighbor’s telephone, he contacted
the desk sergeant, who informed him that
the bloodhounds had been unable to regain
the fugitive’s trail and had been taken back
to Portland. The men combing the railroad
track area likewise had failed to find a trace
of the slayer and had returned to the sta-
tion.
@ WHEN BURNS inquired whether Patrol-
men Cooke and Shaw had located any
firearms dealer who had disposed of a .38
revolver or bullets recently, the desk
sergeant replied in the negative.
Rejoining his colleague, the Chief re-
layed the discouraging reports, and then
suggested, “Let’s see if the parents know of
anyone who might fill the bill.”
Consulted: in the Davis home, the sad-
dened couple quickly provided promising
information. Two Austrian youths who
worked at the Willamette Pulp and Paper
Mill—Matthew Jancigaj and Paul Hauser-
ling—formerly had boarded at the Smrekar
home, having beer taken in to supplement
th® meager family income.
They had lived there about six months,
and then the parents, deciding that the
house was too crowded, had asked them to
find other lodgings. The young men had
moved out five months before the tragedy.
Both smoked cigarettes; but neither par-
ent could recall what brand or brands they.
used.
When Burns eagerly inquired whether
either had shown any unusual interest in
the girl, the couple shook their heads. “They
were perfect young gentlemen,” said the
mother. “They regarded Mary as they
might their own sister.”
Obtaining the present address of the for-
mer tenants, the men hurried there, discov-
ering the place to be a large old-fashioned
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he shooting scene,
here he was halted
<e, who was stand-
1 house across the
over to see what
up that interested
patrolman said, in-
{ matron behind the
ne something that
sstured for her to
the previous after-
arly twenties—ob-
ad come to her back
nething to eat. She
and took it outside.
e asked for a drink
rted into the house
i her.
nto the kitchen and
1e could get in,” she
e at me and threat-
I didn’t unlock it.
r so he went away.
] was pretty badly
of the tramp’s ap-
iat he wore a blue
trousers and was
i dark hair and a
lead,” declared the
might have spotted
ng his tour of the
«cided to attack her
oke, you get Shaw
obo jungle and look
‘ to the station
ids.”
uve Andy Vaughn
nd with two man-
Ba pr
’ Kline.
hunting dogs. Burns drove them to the
Smrekar residence, where the trainer let
the animals sniff the ground over which
the slayer had fled after climbing down
the trellis.
The hounds led them to the sidewalk,
down Main Street to Twelfth and into a
canyon under the railroad bridge. There
the group encountered the squad of
officers sent to scour the area. The
searchers reported finding no trace of
their quarry.
But, with the dogs on the scent, hopes
were high that the fugitive would be
flushed if he were hiding in the vicinity
—or that the trail would lead into some-
thing to reveal his identity. This op-
timism, however, was dissipated a short
time later when the animals lost the
scent in a wooded grove and were unable
to regain it.
Leaving the Portland detective and the
dogs to continue their efforts to get back
on the fugitive’s trail, the Chief returned
to Headquarters to await developments.
A short time later, Patrolmen Cooke
and Shaw came in with a seedy looking
youth who fitted the description given
by the housewife. “This is the guy,”
Cooke announced. ‘Says his name’s Rex
We found him in the jungle, all
right, but he claims he doesn’t know any-
thing about the shooting.”
The prisoner’s beady eyes flashed with
anger as he faced the Chief. “You cops’re
always givin’ a guy a bad time,” he com-
plained. “I was sleepin’ peaceful, and all
of a sudden these flatfeet rousted me out
of bed and accused me of killin’ some-
.body. What’s the deal, anyway?”
Burns patiently explained that no one
was being accused of anything. The
police were investigating a murder, and
it was necessary to question any person
who came into the picture. _If Kline were
innocent, he had nothing to worry about.
This calmed the transient somewhat,
and he declared that he wasn’t afraid to
tell the truth. His statement was to the
effect that he had had no intention of
pi
_
I
ai
r
fue
molesting the woman who had.given.him
a handout. After’the incident ather home,
he had returned to the hobo camp and had
not left there until the officers placed him
in custody:
“T hit the hay at nine o’clock,” he said,
“and there’s ‘a dozen guys who’ll. back
me up.”
But, since it semis reasonable to as-
sume that his cronies would substantiate -
the alibi whether it was true or false,
Burns decided to: make a more accurate
check. He therefore telephoned Dr.
Hoeye, the only person found Who had
witnessed the killer’s. flight, and asked -
him to come to the station.
He arrived presently and, after care-
fully studying the young tramp, shook
his head. He.was certain thatthe person
he had seen was not Kline, although the
resemblance in age and build was strong.
The Chief thanked and dismissed the
physician, and then ordered the prisoner
returned to his cell pending further de-
velopments. He realized that witnesses
often make mistakes in identification.
Burns next went to the mortuary where
the victim had been taken, and found
Coroner Holman and ‘two local doctors
finishing the post-mortem; The former
announced that nothing new had been
discovered except that the lethal bullets -
had been removed.
He handed them to the official, taht
studied them with trained eyes, and then.
weighed them carefully in his hands.
“Thirty-eights,” was his conclusion.’ ‘I’ll
see what we can do with that informa-
tion.”
Hurrying back to his office, he in-
structed Shaw and Cooke to telephone all .
the city’s hardware and sporting goods
dealers*at their homes, as their stores
were closed Sundays. “If any of them
sold .38 revolvers recently,” he told them,
“get the names of the customers. Also
get the name of everybody who bought
that kind of ammunition in the past few
weeks.”
The patrolmen scarcely had left when
# House on Fourteenth Street, Oregon <i where young victim lived with
her family. Surrounding grounds reveal
two major leads to the killer
Sheriff Beatie entered the office. He an-
nounced that his men had _ searched
throughout the county without finding a
trace of anyone tallying with the killer’s
description. .“I don’t see how he could
have got out of town without being
' spotted,” he commented.
“He was headed for the tracks,” the
Chief recalled, ‘‘so he probably hopped
a train. I’d better check with the S.P.
people again.”
A call to the railroad office in Portland
was quickly put through. The official
there reported that the only train which
had passed through Oregon City since the
time of the slaying had been halted a few
miles south and thoroughly searched. No
one resembling the hunted man had been
discovered.
The Chief replaced the receiver and
told Beatie, “You may be right about him
not leaving town. And, in that case, he’s
probably a local product.” He meditated
a moment before adding, “If he does live
here, the chances are that he didn’t go
into the house for robbery. The Smrekars
haven’t anything worth stealing. The
father is a laborer and has a tough time
earning enough money to keep that large
family going. I don’t think a thief would
bother them.”
The Sheriff nodded thoughtfully,
“Somebody might have been jealous of
Mary,” he suggested.
“Her folks told me she wasn’t interested
in boys. But parents don’t always know
everything about their children. It might
pay us to have another talk with them—
and the rest of the family.”
Driving to the Davis home, they found
‘the grieving parents in the parlor. As
tactfully as possible, Burns pointed out
that perhaps someone had committed the
crime through jealousy or frustration.
But the stricken parents shook their
heads. They were certain that Mary had
not been involved in any ‘romances.
Asked whether she ever had mentioned
anyone’s molesting her, they replied in
the negative. She never had indicated by
word or action that she was afraid of °
anybody or had expected trouble.
Realizing that the couple knew nothing
to fit into the nebulous theory, the officers
turned their attention to the victim’s
brothers and sister, each of whom was
questioned separately in the kitchen,
where privacy was afforded.
The younger children, of course, were
unable to tell anything of value; but Joe
provided some information of signifi-
cance. Mary, he said, had been interested
in Charles Koman, one of the young men
in the neighborhood, and the two had
gone on dates without the knowledge of
the girl’s parents.
“There wasn’t anything wrong,” the
lad hastened to explain. - “Charley is a
fine fellow. But Mary was afraid the
‘folks would object because she was only
sixteen. So they kept it a secret.”
When Chief Burns questioned him as
_ to whether the couple ever had quarreled,
he declared that he knew of no ehscaead
_they had: had.
Obtaining Koman’s address, the sleuths
went there at once.. His mother answered
the door and said that he was eating
breakfast. He looked up in surprise as
she ushered them into the kitchen.
The Chief, (Continued on page 97)
31
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Susan Litchfield was slain
KARNES » Albert, asphyxiated Oregon (Marion County) on January 30, 1953.
For His Lost Wife
~—Or the Cash2
*
was up in arms over the brutal
slaying of Susan Litchfield. The
city knew the beloved 81-year-old
woman as one of the few remaining
Pioneers of the Old West.
Her parents made the long trek in a
covered wagon over the dusty plains,
across the rugged Rocky and Cascade
Mountains, fording the deep rivers and
fighting the savage Indians. Susan was
one of the first children born of pioneer
parents in what is now Linn County
near Scio.
Susan married George Litchfield, the
son of another pioneer, on July 6, 1904,
at North Santiam and moved to the
honeymoon house on Waller Street in
Salem. ;
‘The effect of the campaigning he
suffered during the Spanish-American
War finally claimed George’s life in
1925. Susan took over his duties as
rural mail carrier and for eleven years
the residents along the Rosedale route
looked forward each day to seeing
Susan bouncing down the road in her
old car.
When finally she gave up the job as
mail carrier, her son Claude tried to
persuade her to live with him and her
two grandsons. “It’s time you took it
easy, Mom,” Claude told her. “We've
got a real nice rocking-chair and you
can just sit and—”
“Rocking-chair!” Susan cried. The
rugged pioneer spirit of independence
still flowed in her veins. “I’m still
perfectly capable of taking care of my-
self, I’ll have you know.”
So Susan stayed on at the Waller
Street house and took in boarders. Not
only did she clean the house, make up
the rooms, but also she cooked the
Meals. And her cooking wasn’t done
On one of those “fancy electric gad-
Sets”. She was adamant on the sub-
Ject. “Can’t bake a thing in one of
those ovens,” she declared. “It takes a
800d wood-stove to heat up an oven
Tight for browning the top of an apple
vie or making a cake raise like it ought
T™ Capital City of Salem, Oregon,
THE call came into the Salem Police
th Department shortly after 2:30 on
€ afternoon of Saturday, June 7, 1952.
-Ahe o oi *
tecti Perator gave it to Captain of De
ves Stanley Friese.
OFFICIAL TETECTIVE,. OCTOBER, 1952.
Susan Litchfield Had the Spunk and Courage of the Old
West Pioneers. She Had Known the Violence of Savage
Indjans. But She Couldn't Match the Strength of Her
Killer. Salem, Ore., Police Had to Find Him Before—
“This is. Harold Shell,” an excited
voice informed him.
“Yes?” Friese recognized the name.
Shell was a taxi driver. ‘“What’s up,
Harold?”
“Somebody killed Susan Litchfield!”
“Susan Litchfield? Dead?” Friese
gasped out the words. He not. only
knew the elderly pioneer woman, as
most folks in town did, but her son
Claude had worked for awhile on the
police force. ‘
“Yes. And it’s awful. It’s—it’s just
awful.” Shell's voice held a sickening
horror. °
“Where?”
“Here at her house. She's in the
woodshed. You'd better get out here
right away.”
“Right away!”
The police cars, with sirens scream-
ing, pulled up in front of the house
within a few minutes. They disgorged a
number of officers, for when Friese
passed the word of the slaying to Chief
Clyde A. Warren, he ordered out his
entire staff of detectives. face
Pale-faced and with beads of cold
sweat standing on his forehead, Shell
met the officers in the front yard. “She’s
around back,” he told them. “I couldn’t
find her when I woke up. I looked
around the house. I don’t know what
made me look in the woodshed—but
there she was.”
The officers walked around the out-
side of the house, following a path be-
tween neatly trimmed rose _ bushes.
When they reached the woodshed, Shell
flung out a hand and said: “There—
there she is.”
For a moment the officers just stood
in frozen silence. The gruesome sight
chilled them, even though they were ac-
customed to viewing violent death.
Susan Litchfield lay crumpled on the
chip-strewn floor near a chopping-
block. The gray hair she always wore
bobbed and curled in a youthful fashion
or was matted and stained a muddy
red.
Glistening stains on the ax blade left
stuck in the chopping-block told the
officers a mute story at a glance. —
Shell turned his eyes away from the
sickening sight. Captain Friese lifted
his hat and passed a handkerchief over
his forehead, although it was not a
warm day. f
Chief Warren recovered first. He
turned to Detective Bob Mason. “Get
your camera, Bob. We'll want to take
Pictures before anything is disturbed.”
KARNES, Albert, white, assed ORSP (Marion) January 30, 1953
102
CASE FILE
Some recent cases brought you by
TRUE DETECTIVE had not finally been
disposed of when the issue went to
press. To keep our readers in-
formed, we will bring you in each
issue of TD a Case File report.
BEAUTIFUL COUNTESS AND
THE DAGGER OF DEATH
(November, 1952)
The beautiful countess Krystyna
Skarbeck had many times escaped
death during her activities as under-
ground agent during Wo r Il.
een awarde
rage. But on June
eath caught up with her
tered a London hotel. Her
; Dennis Muldowney, was ap-
on the spot, and pleaded
ilty as\charged” in the dock at
ondon’s Old Bailey on September
llth, 1952.
Justice Donovan then sentenced
Muldowney to the gallows. As the
judge ended with the words, ‘And
may the Lord have merey on your
soul,” Muldowney said in a firm
voice, ‘He will, sir. He will.”
her for her
15; 1952
WOMEN FALL PREY TO
THE FIEND
(October, 1952)
Taken from his prison cell in Ore-
gon State Penitentiary where he was
serving a 15-year term for burglar-
izing the Ben Callaway home, Albert
William Karnes was brought to trial
for the first-degree murder of 81-
year-old Susan Litchfield. A Marion
County Circuit Court jury found
him guilty on August 9th, 1952,
with no recommendation of mercy.
As we go to press, Karnes is sched-
uled to die in the lethal gas cham-
ber of the state penitentiary on
Friday, October 17th. He had bludg-
eoned his elderly. victim to death
with a claw hammer as she stood in
the woodshed of her home in Salem,
Oregon, and then had stolen $30
from her purse.
BETRAYAL AT THE JUDAS
WINDOW
(February, 1952)
When body of Allen Friedman,
wealthy Sa cisco realto
businessman, was 10 in his
apartment on September 29th,
1951, a bullet through his left eye,
police at first were baffled. How-
ever, skillful detective work led
them to Elbert Belote, who subse-
quently confessed killing Friedman
as his victim looked out through the
peephole, or Judas window, on the
door of his apartment. The motive
was anger over what Belote consid-
ered an unfair property settlement.
On March 2Ist, 1952, Elbert
Belote was found. guilty of murder
in the first degree, with a recom-
mendation of mercy. Under Cali-
fornia law, he was sentenced to a
term of five years to life.
70% ET EET eRe
Joe A
“lve got a bellyache,” he moaned. “I
hope it’s not appendicitis.”
For: some time he lay there. Latimer,
seated beside him, kept inquiring, “How
do you feel now?”
Suddenly, from the guard room over-
head, they heard ,the dull thud of some-
thing heavy falling, and at the same time
a crash like the breaking of crockery. Gill,
doubled up with pain, tried to get up but
couldn’t. He fumbled for his key to the
stairway, handed it to Latimer and said
weakly, “Go up and see what’s the matter!”
The prisoner ran upstairs. He. found
Haight lying senseless on a stone floor
strewn with fragments of a broken plate—
and bits of the glass that recently had
been filled with lemonade. Haight groaned
faintly.
Latimer coolly bent over him, relieved
the helpless guard of his keys and stole
five $5 gold pieces from his vest pocket.
On his way back to Gill’s room, he noticed
that the plug in the main gate was out of
position. That was a better break than he
ad expected. He could not open that gate
e with a crook at the end.
Reaching this farough the bars of the outer
gate, he drew the lever and opened the
gate. Freedom wasS\now in sight, but a few
more details still had to be taken care of.
Latimer went to the key chest. There
he found the key to the rifle cabinet. He
selected a repeating riffle and some cart-
ridges and hid them just Mside the cabinet
door, which he left ajar.
At that moment Charles Rice, the night
guard of the east wing, who\had heard the
crash, rushed in and asked
matter?”
to Gill’s office. The captain of
hearing Latimer’s answer, st
his feet and the three of them
stairs. When they reached the g
“Get Dr. Mason from the
mumbled.
“The hospital door is locke@,” said Lati-
mer.
Rice began feeling in Hfaight’s pockets
for keys. Latimer, who lYad taken those
keys himself, ran downstairs to the rifle
cabinet, picked up the Weapon he had set
aside for himself, shgved open the main
gate and darted ou into the dark, rainy
night.
bspital!” he
6f bushes fifty yards away. Rain
ed hard against the dirt and, as it
éther with the cartridges.
Having lived for years in Jackson, Lati-
mer knew the lay of the land. He ran
away. from the city and kept running for
- about three miles. He skirted a village and
stopped at a farm. Rain was still falling.
He found shelter for the night by bur-
rowing into a haymow. The one-time dude
was still in prison garb, he was unarmed,
he had no hat or coat and no food, but at
least he was free.
Meanwhile, Captain Gill had sounded the
alarm, tottered a few steps after the escap-
ing prisoner and collapsed. By this time
Haight was dead. Dr. Mason put the cap-
tain to bed in the prison hospital and
eventually nursed him back to health.
A search of Latimer’s cell turned up a
tiny vial, almost empty. The contents of
it, when analyzed, proved to be a mixture
of opium and prussic acid. This poison was
o mud, the rifle interfered with his .
found in the lemonade remaining in Gill’s
glass. The autopsy on Haight’s body re-
vealed more of it in his stomach. Ap-
parently Haight vhad died as a result of
draining his entire glass of lemonade, while
Gill’s life had been spared because he had
consumed only part of his.
Captain Gill and Guard Rice were dis-
missed from their positions and arrested
on charges of complicity in Latimer’s
escape. One point they could never ex-
plain was the presence in Latimer’s cell
of a book that gave detailed information on
poisons and their effects. The thumbing
and marking of this. book indicated that
Number 4578 had read it thoroughly.
E. T. Webb, the. Jackson druggist from
whom the prison clerk had bought the
poison for Latimer, said that he had refused
at first to fill the order for so dangerous
a drug. “Then the clerk himself came. in
and said it was all right. He said Latimer
needed the prussic acid to develop some
plates in the prison’s photographic depart-
ment. I finally ordered the vial from a
New York wholesaler and sent it to the
prison as soon as it came.”
During the investigation, a state-wide
search was being made for the fugitive.
His description was telegraphed to cities
and towns all over Michigan and Warden
Davis sent two guards to cover the Jackson
railroad station. The description carried
a warning that the murderer was armed
and dangerous. A reward of $1,000 was
offered for his recapture, dead or alive.
Two days after his break, in the early,
cold March evening, Latimer walked into a
general store at Jerome, Michigan, in Hill-
dale County. He was bedraggled, unshaven,
hungry and exhausted. His clothing con-
sisted of hand-me-downs that a_ soft-
hearted farmer had given him in response
to a story to the effect that Latimer’s
clothes had been stolen from a sleeping
car on a train. But he still wore the tell-
tale prison shirt and tried desperately to
hide it.
“T want to buy,” he muttered, “a pair of
boots, a pair of mittens and a pair of
woolen socks.” :
He laid a glittering coin on the counter,
one of the gold pieces he had stolen from
Haight, and hurried out with his mer-
chandise. But a customer had caught sight
of his prison shirt and whispered to the
clerk, “That’s Latimer!”
“Run and tell father!” said the clerk in
a low tone.
Two young men caught up with Latimer
on a dark country road and walked along
a short distance behind him, fearing to
lay hands on such a notorious character.
Latimer, aware of them, broke into a trot.
But a buggy drove up furiously. A con-
stable leaped out, gun in hand.
“You’re Latimer! I want you!” he
snapped crisply.
The one-time playboy druggist did not
resist. Late that night, March 28th, he was
back in state prison. Because Michigan
had no capital punishment, he was not put
to death for the murder of George Haight,
nor even tried for it. He was thrown into
solitary confinement, with no furniture in
his cell except a straw mattress on the cold
stone floor, and nothing but bread and
water to ease his gnawing pangs of hunger.
Nobody could say he hadn’t earned it.
Irving Latimer was finally let out of sol-
itary, but he stayed in the state prison at
Jackson for forty-six years. One governor
after another ignored appeals for his re-
lease. Latimer became the most famous
convict in the state, if not the whole
country. Finally, in 1935, Governor Frank
_D. Fitzgerald pardoned him.
Seven years later, he was picked up as
a vagrant and committed to a mental in-
stitution. There he died, on August 30th,
1945, at the age of 79, a bearded, gibbering
derelict.
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1, THE MAV
2. RIDERS OF
ald Utah—dr
who gambled
3. WILDFIRE.
stallion, a fic
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4. ARIZONA
terror in the
5. SHADOW
Holden fights
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By Tom Walters
Special Investigator for
“ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES
Mason nodded and without speaking
went back toward the car for his equip-
ment.
“Did you go inside?’ Warren asked
Shell. :
The cab driver shook his head. “I just
opened the door and saw her. I didn’t
touch anything. I went right back to
the house and called you.”
Warren suddenly found the afternoon
warm. He removed his hat and ran a
hand over the sparse hair on his head.
“Let’s get over here to the side so Bob
can have room to set up his camera,”
he suggested.
WHEN the men moved away from the
woodshed, he told Shell: “Okay.
Let’s hear how you happened to find
her.”
“I worked late last night,” Shell said.
“T didn’t get up until a little before two
o’clock. I have a room upstairs.” .
Friese broke in: “Did Mrs. Litchfield
have any more boarders beside you?”
“No. I’m the only one. I came down-
stairs and went into the kitchen. Usually
Mrs. Litchfield makes me some break-
fast. When I went into the kitchen,
this fellow was sitting there. He was
eating a sandwich.”
“What fellow?”
“I don’t know. I was surprised to see
him there. I asked him who he was and
he said he was a friend of Mrs. Litch-
field. I asked him where she was and
he said she had gone out to the store.”
“What time was this?”
“A little after two, I guess.”
“And then what happened?”
“Like I said, I thought it was kind of
funny, his being there in the kitchen
eating.” Shell paused for a moment,
then went on to say: “Another thing
that was funny, only I didn’t think of it
at the time, was that he said Mrs..Litch-
field was at the store.”
“What’s strange about that?”
“Mrs. Litchfield always called Bus-
ick’s Market and had her groceries de-
livered.” :
Captain Friese asked: ‘What hap-
pened to this fellow?”
“TI don’t know. I stood around for a
few minutes and he finished eating the
sandwich he had. I debated with my-
self whether I would wait until Mrs.
~ Litchfield returned and fixed me some
breakfast, or whether I’d go downtown
and eat. I decided to go downtown, so
I went back upstairs and got my coat
and hat. When I came downstairs
again, he was gone.”
Chief Warren eyed the cab driver
narrowly. ‘What made you come out
to the woodshed to look for Mrs. Litch-
field?”
Shell shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t
know exactly. When I came back down-
stairs, this fellow was gone. I guess
maybe I thought it was funny that she
would be at the store, even though I
didn’t really think much about it. I
just sort of started looking around for
her. I came out here and I saw her.”
Detective Mason had finished making
photographs of the scene. “What about
the ax?” he asked Warren.
“Leave it right where it is until we
can have it dusted for finger-prints. Call
Howell so we can have the body moved,
and you’d better call Stadter at the
same time,” Warren told him.
Warren went back to Shell. “What
did this fellow you saw in the kitchen
look like?”
ee
Det. Houser, Capt. Friese
with the death weapons
found in woodshed, above |
ee
a
Leet,
Det. Houser: "She always
paid cash for her groceries’
“He was young—maybe about twenty-
five. He had on a sweatshirt and jeans.”
Shell scowled, trying to put into words
a mental picture of the man. “There
wasn’t anything special about him.”
“Was he dark or light? How tall?
How much did he weigh?” Warren
urged.
“His hair was sort of dark and it was
kind of funny. I mean, it was mussed
Up and he had a high forehead, coming
&way back to here.” Shell indicated
With his hands the receding hair line.
€ was sitting down, but I’d guess he
Was around six foot. He was built
®bout like Captain Friese.”
Fret t would be one seventy-five,”
ese said.
Detective Dave Houser and Police Chief Jack Lyons question
the man, center, who had chosen a basement to sleep in
“Let’s go inside,” Warren‘said.
The kitchen of the old house was in
order. No sign of a struggle was in
evidence. The detectives passed into
the front room. It was dark and Friese
pulled a curtain open. The room was
in dark paneling. Pictures with heavy
gilt frames were on the walls and tables.
“No struggle in here,” Friese said. “He
must have caught her out in the wood-
shed.”
“Hey, come here!” The call was from
Detective Dave Houser. He and Detec-
tive Wayne Parker were out in the hall.
“Blood spots,” he said, pointing to stains
on the floor. “They lead down:to the
bathroom.”
More stains were visible on the bath-
room floor. The washbowl showed
evidence of someone who had used it
without cleaning it afterward.
towels, too, were rumpled and stains in-
dicated someone might have wiped
bloody hands on them.
Mrs. Litchfield’s bedroom was across
the hall. The bed was made and the
room all in order.
“He came in the bathroom and
washed up afterward,” Friese said.
“Make some pictures and then leave
it just as it is until we can have it gone
over for prints,” Warren instructed
Mason.
The other detectives returned to the
kitchen. Warren told them: “Be care-
ful not to touch anything that might
have prints on it until we can have the
room gone over. If the fellow was in
here, he may have left his prints
around.”
Shell turned to look sharply at Chief
Warren. It was obvious he had noted
Warren had said “ifthe fellow was
here’. However, he said nothing.
Captain Friese questioned Shell:
“You're sure you’ve never seen the
fellow who was in the kitchen around
before?”
“No. I’ve never seen him before.”
Warren spoke to Houser and Parker.
“Canvass the neighborhood and see if
anyone else saw him.”
ARREN stood eyeing the kitchen.
“You say this fellow was sitting in
here eating a sandwich?”
Shell nodded.
“It’s strange,” Warren mused. “I
can’t quite picture anyone committing
a slaughter like that out in the shed and
then coming in and fixing a sandwich.
Another thing, the house hasn’t been
ransacked. The only obvious motive
for a killing like this would be robbery.”
Friese asked Shell: “Do you know if
Mrs. Litchfield kept much money
around the house?”
Shell wet his lips. “I don’t know how
The.
.
much she kept, but ever since I’ve lived
here whenever I paid her my board bill,
she always put it in that box up there.”
He pointed to a small green box on a
shelf alongside the wood-stove. It had
a hasp so that it could be locked with
a small padlock, but no lock was on it.
Warren used a handkerchief to lift
the box from the shelf. He opened it
with the aid of a pencil so as not to
disturb any prints on it.
A number of bills were in the box.
Warren counted them and said: “Sixty-
five dollars.”
Friese commented: “Anybody look-
ing for money would surely have spotted
that box up there.”
“You’d think so,” Warren agreed.
OICES came from alongside the
house. Warren went outside and
met Coroner Leston Howell, his assis-
tants, and District Attorney E. O. Stad-
ter, Junior.
The new men were as shocked by the
news of Mrs. Litchfield’s death as the
officers had been, and as horrified by
the gruesome sight in the woodshed.
“Try not to disturb anything in the
shed when you move her,’”’ Warren re-
quested of Howell.” “We'll want to go
over it closely in the event the killer left
anything behind.”
Howell went inside the shed and
Warren followed him. For the first
time, Warren noted that Mrs. Litchfield
had been wearing a pair of light canvas
gloves when she was slain.
“She must have come in here to pick
up some wood,” he observed. ‘The killer
was probably waiting for her here,
because there’s no sign of a struggle in-
side the house.”
Howell dropped té one knee to ex-
amine more closely the ugly, raw
wounds that lay bare the skull and had
torn the flesh down as far as the
shoulders.
“The ax?” Warren asked, nodding
toward the single-bit blade stuck in the
chopping-block.
“Must have been,” Howell said. “It’s
awful, isn’t it? How could anyone do a
thing like this to a sweet old lady like
Susan Litchfield? It just seems im-
possible.” ‘
Warren had no answer.
Howell went on studying the wounds.
“There must have been some other
kind of a blunt instrument besides the
ax. The flesh seems to be torn in places,
rather than cut.”
Warren saw what he believed must
have been the weapon. It was a heavy
chunk of stovewood, covered with
blood, bits of flesh and hair.
Howell stood up. “I can tell you
this,” he stated flatly. “Any one of those
Chief Warren: "Do you think
someone could kill and then
fix himself something to eat?"
blows would have killed the old woman.
He must have struck her a dozen times
after she fell.”
Warren thought of the man in the
kitchen eating a sandwich. Would it
have been possible even for a crazy
killer to eat after committing such a
ghastly crime?
“You'll take her in and have an
autopsy right away?” Warren asked.
“Right away. No doubt what killed —
her, though; the ax and that stove-
wood.”
“I know. But sometimes you fellows
find things in an autopsy we can’t see.
I’d like to have it performed as soon as
possible.”
“T’ll have it done right away.”
The frail, old body was lifted gently
into a wicker basket. Howell and his
men left with it.
OUSER came around the side of the
house with a woman. He introduced
:her to Chief Warren as Mrs. Elizabeth
Wallace who lived across the street.
“She saw Mrs. Litchfield alive ‘at
eleven o'clock this morning,” Houser
said. “She saw her come out and give
the postman a letter at that time.”
Mrs. Wallace verified this, but could
add nothing more. She had not seen
Mrs. Litchfield later. Warren asked her
about the man Shell said he had seen
in the kitchen. Mrs. Wallace hadn’t
noticed him around. ‘
Warren called to Shell. “Describe
the man you saw again,” he requested.
ao Mrs. Wallace will recognize
Mrs. Wallace listened to the descrip-
tion, but could not place the man.
Shell said: ‘‘Maybe he was just some
bum that came over here from the rail-
road tracks. He could have been in
the woodshed when Mrs. Litchfield came
out.”
He referred to the Southern Pacific
railroad tracks. When George and
Susan Litchfield built their home years
ago, they had located it at the edge of
town. But Salem had grown during the
years and the Southern Pacific tracks
now run past only a short distance away.
“Maybe,” Warren said flatly. “But
why would a bum kill her? Not for the
sandwich he fixed himself inside the
house. That’s hardly a motive strong
enough for killing.”
“But what could be the motive?”
Shell asked. .
or last night. or if they heard. any disturbances over here.
In the meantime, I'll get a statement from Shell and take
care of the murder weapons,” he concluded.
While Howell waited for a hearse to remove the body to
the Howell-Edwards Funeral Home for the autopsy, Captain
Friese questioned Shell how he had come to discover the:
murder at such an early hour.
“I didn’t get off work till four o’clock,” Shell explained,:
“then I had something to eat and arrived home at 4:30,”
He said he had been rooming with the victim, 81-year-old
Mrs. Susan Litchfield, for, several months. “She was so nice
about trying to make me comfortable that I made it a
practice to see that she had enough wood in the kitchen
to carry her through the day before I turned in,” he told
Captain Friese.
He said he sensed something was wrong when he noticed
that the key for the door leading to the woodshed was
missing from the nail in the kitchen where Mrs. Litchfield
always kept it. “I looked into her room and saw that she
wasn’t in bed,” he explained, “and for some strange reason,
I had a hunch I’d find her in the woodshed.”
Shell further told Captain Friese that he hadn’t seen Mrs.
Litchfield since Friday afternoon. ‘She wasn’t at home when
I left for work at four o'clock yesterday,” he said. “I’m sure
of it because a young man, a stranger to me, came to the
door and asked for her.”
“Did he say why he wanted to see her?”
“No, he didn't, but I thought maybe he was looking for
a room,” Shell replied. “He carried a suitcase and he seemed
®
@ Albert Karnes, who owned a carpenter's claw hammer
@ Detective Wayne Parker, Salem, Oregon, Police Dept.
to know Mrs. Litchfield because he asked for her by name.”
Asked to describe the stranger, Shell said he appeared
to be in his middle twenties, that he had blond wavy hair
and wore glasses. “He’s slender, of medium height, and he
has very narrow shoulders and a pointed chin,” he con-
cluded.
After thinking over the information given him by Shell,
Friese concluded that if the stranger was known by Mrs.
Litchfield, it was likely her son, Claude Litchfield, would
also know him. The son was a close friend to Friese since
he had been a member of the city police force before re-
signing to take a position: with the state employment service
in the Salem area.
Taking care not to destroy any clues the killer might
have left in the victim’s home, Friese went to the home of
a next-door neighbor and called Claude Litchfield and told
him of the tragedy. The son was profoundly shocked by
the news of his mother’s death, but he finally pulled himself
together and promised that he’d be over as quickly as he
could get there. When Friese returned to the murder scene,
the hearse had arrived and the body was being moved to
the funeral home.
Houser and Parker were also back from calling on the
victim’s neighbors. Some weren’t home, they said, but from
those who were they had learned two things. One was that
Mrs. Litchfield had been seen working in her yard as late
as noon Saturday, and the other was that a loud noise
had been heard in the victim’s woodshed about 5:30 o’clock
Saturday evening. Johnny Greider of 1345 Waller Street,
who had heard the noise, told the officers that it had sounded
like the woodpile had fallen over.
“That is probably when Mrs. Litchfield was killed,” com-
mented Friese.
While they were waiting for Claude Litchfield to arrive,,
the officers began a careful examination of the premises for
clues. They went in succession from the victim’s kitchen
through the living room, the dining room and her bedroom
where they found proof of immaculate housekeeping and
order);
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“He’s probably someone who used to room with mother,”
Claude said. “She had a lot of different persons in her home
since she started taking in roomers several years ago. Some
of them I never got to know very well.”
“Did your mother ever have trouble with anyone who
would have wanted her out of the way?” Friese asked the
son.
“I¢ mother ever had an enemy, I didn’t know about it,” he
' replied. “She belonged to the Baptist Church and she lived
a thoroughly Christian life.”
Litchfield said his mother was a native of Oregon and
that she had lived in Salem since she was 17. She was
married there, and had lived in the same house for 41
years. His father, a Spanish-American war veteran, had
died in 1925, he continued, and after the father’s death, his
mother had taken over his rural mail route. in the Rosedale
district south of Salem until 1936 when she retired.
“Would ycur mother have had enough money around the
house to make robbery a motive for the murder?” Friese
asked Claude.
“I Wardly think so,” he replied. “Mother never had much
_money on hand, and if the killer was acquainted with her,
I’m sure he would have known it.”
Although Claude Litchfield did not believe that robbery
was the motive back.of the murder of his mother, he fol-
lowed Captain Friese’s suggestion and searched through her
belongings for her money. He found her purse quickly in a
drésser drawer, but there was no money in it. A moment
e Dept. Chief of Police Clyde A. Warren, who solved murder , (Continued on Page 67)
mniied orderliness. Nothing was disturbed and nothing seemed to M Scene of The Dalles, Ore., where killer was taken
vw hair be missing. The victim's bible lying open on the dining room
anak bee table within reach of her rocking chair indicated to the
<2 egks officers that she had been reading it shortly before she was
set upon by the fiendish murderer. A box of groceries on
Shell the kitchen table led Captain Friese to hope also that they
6 Mrs. would help establish the approximate time of the murder.
* weal “The groceries were apparently delivered Saturday after-
e-ainee noon,” he told Parker and Houser. “If we can find out
fare és where they came from, we can find out what time they
ees: were delivered and if Mrs. Friese was seen by the delivery
service boy.”
or might In the bathroom, the officers found a picture in complete
same “al contrast to the orderliness of the remainder of the house. "i
na tod The wash basin was spotted with blood and on the floor Maha gen emery Tae err
cked by were several towels each bearing crimson stains, “~
: himself “The killer took his time about washing up before leav-
ly as he ing,” commented Parker.
- “And if he left as soon as he finished cleaning up, he
oad has had time to put a lot of space behind him,” Captain
~ Friese replied as he called attention to the fact that the
, : towels had already dried out.
_ peal A sliver of bone, apparently splintered from the victim’s
was eri skull and giving further proof of the killer's viciousness;
a fell from the folds of one of the towels when Captain Friese
a late picked it up. “Only a sadist or someone who bore Mrs.
i or Litchfield a great hatred could have been so brutal,” Friese
: o'clock told Houser and Parker.
Strect, When Claude Litchfield reached his mother’s home, he
sounded was still plainly dazed by the news of her tragic death, but
; Captain Friese appealed to him to pull himself together.
aia “There’s a chance that your mother knew the killer,” Cap-
—_ tain Friese told him. “And if she did, you will probably
TEIVR know him too.”
deocisttad Friese told Claude about the stranger who had come to
pene the house on Saturday afternoon and asked for his mother,
ear i
- but he could think of no one who met the description given
ing and by Shell.
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er or later his curiosity would force
him to bring up the subject in an
effort to learn how he had been de-
tected. This method turned the trick
after the threesome had ridden an hour
with no mention of the case. Then
Cline rolled himself a cigaret, puffed
slowly and said: “Okay, fellows, I’m
hooked. What gave me away?”
“The same thing that gives away all
killers, Cline,” replied Chief Christof-
fersen. “You just forgot a few little
items, like the stub of one of your
homemade smokes. Kelsay found it
near the place where you shot Chetty.”
With the ice broken, the miner seem-
ed eager to get the whole story off his
chest. He said that he had always want-
ed to mine gold in Alaska and early
the previous month had written to Chet-
ty suggesting they try their luck up
there.
“I knew George about eleven years,”
he continued. “We mined gold around
Hailey, Idaho, one time. I wrote to
him to get $150 or $200 for the trip.
He wrote back he would borrow the
money from his old man and meet me
in Antone on May Ist.”
+ Chetty had arrived on the appointed
evening, and Cline had met him and
they had walked to Cline’s cabin some
miles from town. (Cline couldn’t ex-
plain why no one had,seen them to-
gether.)
“After supper we talked about our
trip and decided to leave in a week or
so. That night while George was asleep
in my shack, I got to thinking we
didn’t have enough money for both of
us to make the trip. Then I decided to
kill him and go alone.
“In the morning after breakfast, I
told him I'd show him how we found
gold in Spanish Gulch. As we left the
shack I picked up my new rifle. “What
do you need that for, Claude?’ George
asked me. I told him: ‘Oh, we might
see something to take a shot at. Maybe
we can get ourselves a good dinner.’
“We walked for a couple of miles
and then I decided to get it over with.
George heard me: stop and turned
around. He was only a yard or so
away. He started to say something and
I let him have it. I took his money—
he only had about sixty bucks in cash
—and carried him to the sand pit. I
buried him there and then I hid the
rifle in some brush. I sure didn’t think
anybody’d ever find him.”
There wasn’t even a faint note of
remorse in the recital of the most bru-
tal murder encountered by Chief
Christoffersen in his 30 years of crimi-
nal investigation. The only thing that
bothered Cline was that his carefully
planned and executed crime had back-
fired on him.
After he had been mg to Fossil
and jailed, and news of’his confession
had reached Spanish Gulch, several of
the region’s miners called on Sheriff
Kelsay. They told him that in the pre-
vious July a young man named Eugene
Rosenstiel had showed up from Port-
land and started prospecting with Cline.
A few weeks later he suddenly dropped
out of sight. When someone asked
Cline what had happened to Rosenstiel,
the gaunt miner had replied: “He got
tired of digging around here and de-
cided to go to California. He needed
bus fare, so I bought his old Ford and
gear.”
“We thought,” one of the miners
said, “that it was funny Rosenstiel had
changed his mind in such a hurry. The
boy seemed to like it in the gulch. But
we hadn’t any reason ‘not to believe
Claude at the time. Now we think he
killed Rosenstiel too.”
Tying in with their suspicion was
the fact that, on August 5th of the
previous year, Cline had borrowed a
rifle from another miner and had re-
turned it the following afternoon with
one shell fired. He had claimed to have
shot at a deer and missed.
Sheriff Kelsay hurried to Cline’s cell
and demanded bluntly: “Where did you
bury your other pal, Rosenstiel?”
The murderer looked up in surprise.
“How'd you know about him, Sher-
iff?” he inquired calmly.
“Never mind,” Kelsay retorted. “You
just take us to him.”
The prospector shrugged. “Might as
well, I guess,” he agreed.
Early the next morning, May 14th,
Cline led Kelsay and his deputies to
a point about two miles from where
Chetty had been found. The grave, near
a small stream, was covered with dead
willows. Once again shovels went into
action, and in a short time the second
corpse was uncovered. Its face also was
horribly disfigured by a gun blast.
“How much did you get from him?”
Kelsay asked with unconcealed con-
tempt.
“He only had about forty bucks,”
was the cool reply. “But I got a hun-
dred or so from his Ford and stuff. I
sold them over in Prineville.”
So, for less than $200, Claude Cline,
whom everybody had admired for his
generosity, had murdered two men in
cold blood. Never once did he show
one iota of regret over his deeds, ex-
cept that he had been caught.
Indicted on two counts of first de-
gree murder, he went on trial June 11,
1940, for the slaying of 35-year-old
George Chetty. Four days later, after
deliberating only one hour, the jury
found Cline guilty with no recommen-
dation of mercy, On June 17th, Circuit
Judge Carl Hendricks pronounced the
mandatory sentence of execution in
the lethal gas chamber of the state
penitentiary, and on July 26th the heart-
less killer paid the penalty.
The names Norm Spaulding, Max Ran-
dall and “Freda” are fictitious to pro-
tect the identies of persons innocently
involved in this case.
Strange Case of the Slain Landlady
(Continued from Page 43)
later, however, he found a small metal
box containing $60 in currency in a
desk.
“Even though there’s no money in
the purse, I have a hunch that we'd
better start looking for some other mo-
tive than robbery for the murder,”
Friese told Claude Litchfield. Friese
then stepped to the telephone and call-
ed headquarters for an identification
expert to examine the house for finger
prints. When the identification expert
arrived, Friese left for headquarters to
take up the investigation from there,
but before he departed, he turned the
axe and piece of stove wood over to
the identification officer to check for
clues. He also told Parker and Houser
to remain behind to aid in the search
for fingerprints.
On his arriyal at headquarters,
Friese found White and De Vall wait-
ing for him with a man they'd ar-
rested at the hobo jungle.
He was a slender young man who,
in a general way, met the description
of the person who had called at Mrs.
Litchfield’s home. He had several
fresh bloodstains on his shirt which
someone had obviously tried to wash
out. The suspect said his name was
John Thomas, and that he was an itin-
erant farmworker.
Asked to explain the blood on his
shirt, he told Friese that he’d been in
a fight on Saturday night. He said he
met a girl in a tavern who invited him
’ to her hotel for a midnight lunch and
that one of her admirers had objected
and struck him on the nose. But when
it came to names and places, the sus-
pect’s mind was a blank. He said the
fight took place in a downtown tavy-
ern and that the girl lived in a hotel
in the same district, but he was unable
to remember either the name of the
tavern or the hotel. The girl had wash-
ed the blood from his face and shirt,
he said.
“What's the girl’s name?” demanded
Friese.
“T didn’t think to ask her,” Thomas
replied. The only description he could
give of the woman was that she had
67
red hair.
“Put him in a cell for awhile,”
Friese told ‘White and De Vall. “His
memory is apt to improve after he has
had time to think things over.”
By early afternoon two other sus-
pects had been brought in from the
hobo jungle, but both were released
after they gave satisfactory accounts
of their activities Saturday afternoon
and evening. In the meantime, Houser,
Parker and the identification officer
had returned from the murder house
but they had failed to uncover any
further clues. Even the axe handle
failed to produce a finger print which
was not smeared.
Friese now had Parker and Houser
bring Thomas into his office again.
He still claimed he couldn’t remem-
ber the location of the tavern where
he’d been in a fight, or the hotel where
the girl lived, but he said that if the
officers would take him through the
downtown district, that he might be
able to recognize one or the other.
“Take him out and see what he can
find,” Friese told Houser and Parker.
‘After the officers had driven only
a few blocks, Thomas pointed out a
tavern where he said the fight oc-
curred, but it was closed and his story
couldn’t be checked on until Monday.
A short time later, though, he told
Houser and Parker to stop in front
of a little hotel on a back street.
“That’s the place where the girl took
me,” he told them.
Houser and Parker went into the
hotel with Thomas, and the clerk im-
mediately remembered seeing him with
the red-haired girl. “He was in a fight
all right,” the clerk said. “He was a
bloody mess.” The girl, he said, was
Mitzi Berg, and he told the officers
that she lived in Room 402.
They found Miss Berg a few min-
utes later, and she confirmed Thomas’
story about the fight and said that he
had been at her room until after mid-
night.
Satisfied that Thomas was in the
clear so far as the murder of Mrs.
Litchfield was concerned, Houser and
Parker returned him to headquarters
so he could get his property, then re-
leased him,
By the time they got back to head-
quarters, Chief of Police Clyde A. War-
ren had returned from an out-of-town
trip and had immediately joined Friese
in the direction of the investigation.
Warren, who had been a member of
the state police and had helped solve
several of the state’s toughest murder
mysteries before becoming Salem’s
chief, immediately ordered every
available man on the force to join the
investigation. He also ordered another
check with the victim’s neighbors tq.
see if any of them might have remem-
bered something pertinent to the case
after thinking about the murder for
several hours. '
The officers quickly finished the can-
vass and returned to headquarters with
68
one bit of interesting news, Mrs. K. S.
Thurston, of 1285' Waller Street, said
she had seen a yotng man walking : to-
ward Mrs. Litchfield’s home on Friday
evening. He was carrying a suitcase,
she said, and the description she gave
matched the one given by Shell of the
man who had come to the victim's
door on Saturday.
“That means the suspect stayed in
Salem overnight,” said Chief Warren.
“Our best play is to check auto courts,
rooming houses and hotels to see if
anyone remembers having seen him.”
After the officers started out to find
where the suspect had stayed over-
night, Chief Warren and Captain Friese
prepared a bulletin asking for the ar-
rest for investigation of anyone meet-
ing his description. The bulletin was
then given to the state police and re-
layed to every law enforcement agency
in the state,
It was 1 P.M. Monday before any-
thing new. developed in the investiga-
tion. A teletype message from the
state police at Grants Pass, 200 miles
south of Salem, stated that a young
hitchhiker meeting the suspect’s de-
scription had been arrested there. The
man gave his name as Eldon Richards
and he admitted being in Salem on
Saturday, but he claimed he had been
there only long enough to pass
through.
Richards claimed he'd spent. Friday
in’ Portland, fifty miles to the north,
with relatives; and, when he was ask-
ed why it had taken him forty-five
hours to cover the 200 miles between
Salem and Grants Pass, he said he’d
taken a few side trips just to enjoy
the scenery. He said he was hitch-
hiking to California after a visit to
his home in Seattle.
For the next few hours, the teletype
wires between Grants Pass and Salem
hummed with messages, but Richards
was finally released and allowed to
o on his way after Portland police
Cuil his relatives there and learned
that he had not left their home until
Saturday afternoon.
With the release of Richards, the
officers again’ found themselves back
where they started, but not for long.
In a routine check of lodging places,
a beat officer learned from a YMCA
clerk that a young man had rented a
room from him on Friday afternoon,
but had not used it. The clerk said
the youth had gone out for an hour
or so after renting the room, then he
returned rather excited and asked if
he could give it up without paying for
it. He explained he met friends who
had asked him to stay with them, the
clerk said. The clerk had dug a card
out of his files bearing the youth’s sig-
nature and the name he signed was
“Sam Hightower,” with his home list-
ed as Tacoma, Washington.
Hastening back to headquarters,
Parker and Houser put through a
long-distance telephone call to Tacoma
police and requested that they check
on the address given by Hightower.
Police Chief Jack Elich promised
full cooperation of his department, and
less than two hours later, he was able
to report that his men had contacted
the youth’s family. He also furnished
the names and addresses of the Salem
friends of Hightower. Parker and Hou-
ser lost no time in getting out to the
Salem address, and they found Sam
Hightower still there. He told the de-
tectives he had formerly roomed with
Mrs. Litchfield, when he worked in the
area a few years previously, but he
claimed he had not seen her on this
trip. His friends said Hightower had
been at their home since Friday after-
noon and that he worked around the
place all day on Saturday without leav-
ing it once.
“His alibi seems airtight,” Houser
told Parker. “There's no use to take
him in unless we find out later that
he did leave the friends’ house on Sat-
urday.”
When the two detectives returned
to headquarters to report to Chief
Warren and Captain Friese, Warren
told them: “You can start looking for
another weapon. The autopsy shows
that Mrs. Litchfield was beaten with
a claw hammer instead of just the axe
and the piece of wood.”
Dr. William »Lidbeck had made the
autopsy report while Houser and Park-
er were out, Warren said, and he had
fixed the time of death at late after-
noon or early evening Saturday. There
was no evidence of rape.
The investigation dragged on into
Tuesday with the officers still staring
at a blank wall, but this situation didn't
last for long. Before the day was very
old, tips began pouring into Chief
Warren’s office from persons who be-
lieved they had a possible solution to
the brutal crime. Among the tips was
one from a neighbor woman that an
odd-jobs man had become peeved at
Mrs. Litchfield after she refused to
accept his offer to paint her kitchen
for use of her telephone ‘to receive
work calls. The informant didn’t know
who the man was since Mrs. Litchfield
had only mentioned the incident to her
without identifying the handy man.
“There’s one thing certain,” Parker
told Chief Warren and Friese, “an odd-
jobs man would own a claw hammer
since it would be a most essential tool
for his trade.”
“It’s a certainty, too, that he lived
in her neighborhood if he wanted to
use her telephone for business,” Cap-
tain Friese added. “We'd better look
around the neighborhood, and find out
who the odd-jobs man is.”
It didn’t take Houser and Parker
long to find him, and he didn’t deny
that he had been peeved at Mrs. Litch-
field when she refused to accept his
offer. But, he claimed that he forgot
about the incident after he had thought
over the inconvenience it would cause
her. Asked about his activities on Sat-
urday, the suspect said he’d been work-
tivate
liveryr
Friese
cerie’
Satur
paid
purse
substa
purse
livers
he |
1S SO!
Mrs
“and
other
might
Her
lead «
kind
Chi
a go
House
home
a sma
had k
who !
remal
check
room:
accou
tles Oo!
the K
Baptis
began
ged d
name
had 1
Albert
Cla
he di
plaine
roome
becon
them,
one oO
men,
Sever
Karne
Mrs.
fore |
1950.
with
the v
hearir
were
town
umbie
Wh
back
“THe
pretty
Shell
18 The
Convict Clive M. Weekly, sentenced to
fifteen years in the Oregon State Prison
for bank robbery. He was one of Tom
Murray’s pals in Murray’s first sensa-
tional break from the prison
Maloney and Schulpius, they
rushed off to a house at 595
Glisan. Street, conducted by a
woman, named Ida Chase.
The officers rushed this house
and found three suspects, in-
cluding a man named Wells,
suspected as a lookout in the
bank robbery, and two other
men, police characters, Metcalf and Den-
nis, by name.
In the meantime, Murray’s bank-rob-
ber pal, Eddie Walker, had returned to
the Pacific Street house where Murray
was arrested, and, he too, was taken pris-
oner. The entire batch of captives was
hustled off to police headquarters.
N the station, Murray told everything.
Walker refused to talk. The other three
men protested innocence. Mrs. Chase,
taken to headquarters, admitted that Wells
had given her a package for safe-keeping.
Under a little pressure, she told where it
was hidden, and the officers, finding it,
discovered that it contained $1,426 of the
money stolen from the Florence bank.
“Yes, | did fourteen months at San
Quentin,’’ Murray.
said, laughingly. “I
was sent up from
Joe Woodard,
Deputy Sheriff of
Florence, Oregon,
Sacramento for bur- whose quick
glary. | was paroled thinking helped
to go to my brother- ¢aPture Tom
slaw! h Murray and his
In-law $s ranc at bank robbing
Mercer Lake. gang
Detective
SSIES Ne ae MBAs NORRIE RE" RARE RC MRR LR EUR INS ae ca e a S st BR,
SEELATE
ete
Pais
Convict Eddie Walker, Tom Murray’s
bank robber pal, who was sentenced to
twenty years in Oregon Stats Prison. He
refused to participate in Tom Murray’s
escape plots, deciding it was smarter to
work for a commutation of sentence
“The stickup was easy. The
banker was so scared that he did
just what we told him to do. So
did the other two yokels.
“How much did we get?” and
the young bank robber laughed
loud and long, but would not tell.
“We laid out in the hills for one
. day. Then we went to Berkren’s
cabin. We told him to cook up for us and
we gave him to understand what would
happen if he didn’t. He was scared plumb
stiff, Then came along Harring, who was
out with his old rifle looking for us.
When he knocked at the door of Berk-
ren’s shack, I covered him with my gat,
made him come inside and talk business.
I told him what would happen if he
“squealed” and told him that he'd get
$200 if he kept his mouth shut. He took
the $200. This other yokel, *Blazier, he's
goofy. We almost scared him to death.
“T got the freight train out of Cushing
Saturday night. I rode it to Reedsport,
bought a ticket and rode a passenger into
Marshfield. That was the day of the
wreck, (Murray was referring to a train
wreck.) and the Chief of Police was so
busy watching the wreck that he didn’t
have time to look for me.
“T took the night train out of Marsh-
field for Portland. At Cushing, I heard
the posse searching the outside of the
train, but they never thought to look in
the sleeper.
“IT got into Portland Monday morning
i?
and
wer
ban
teri
any
Stre
han
I'll
Stak:
W
“]
new
M
for
East:
taxic
“y
doug
innoc
Th
bank
other
norm
mont
He h
finish«
quit ;
first
mills
We
the r
the ‘r
of ter
Attorr
pleade
expens
but
Murr:
ever. ;
d
then
, Tesi-
con-
They
Mur-
Juentin
tickels,
j Flor-
ay to
ve
ntion
at the
© told
ng for
men
s then
that
away.
wier
No Prison Could Hold Him
readily agreed, and the four left the Berkren ranch
about 8 o'clock that night. They passed through
the edge of Florence and walked to Cushing, where
the three robbers boarded a train for Coos Bay, in
Southern Oregon, But before the men left, how-
ever, Blazier and the other two ranchers were paid
$1,500 by Murray for their assistance in effecting a
clean getaway, the payment being accompanied with
the terse advice to “keep their d——n mouths shut.”
Blazier kept his word at that time “not to squawk,”
as did his companions. While the ranchers saw three
deputy-sheriffs at the Cushing station looking for
the robbers, no word of information was offered as
to their presence.
Some of the money was recovered in rancher
Berkren’s home. About one thousand dollars was
found in coffee pots and other receptacles.
Trace of the bandits was completely lost for
awhile. And then the police and the Burns agents
17
in Portland, Oregon, received information that the men
were in that city.
A word here as to the foundation of this tip.
Tom Murray, youthful bank robber and desperado, had
outwitted the posses. and made his way into Portland, flush
with money taken from the bank raid. Once in this city,
it was his intention to “change his racket.” He resolved to
reform, to quit felony and turn to misdemeanor, to sub-
stitute the more respectable profession of bootlegging for
the more hazardous occupation of bank robbery.
HERE a young woman entered his life whom he met in
a local resort. He tented a vacant flat on the East side,
spent some $500 for furniture and was prepared to embark
in the liquor business when he inadvertently told the young
woman the source of his riches.
It happened that the young woman had a “man” who
was serving a six months term in the county jail. She
_ rushed to her friend and poured out the story of the rich
young bank robber. Her “man” put his thinking cap on,
and being anxious for his freedom, he attempted to dicker
with the officers for his liberty. The young woman, hear-
ing of the reward which insurance companies offer for
bank robbers; -hurried to another set of officials, told her
story, and the reward was promised, as was her. “man’s”
freedom.
The “informers” tip was authentic. While Murray was
concentrating on how many quarts of this and how many
quarts of that would be necessary to start on his new ven-
ture, he was being made the victim of a rather neat little
double-cross—or rather, a clever double, double-cross,
Led by Chief Inspector Moore and Mr. Miley, a posse
composed of the Burns men and Captain Harms, Detec-
tives, Goltz, Thomas, Collins, Maloney, Schulpius, Tacka-
berry, Phillips, Coleman, Leonard and Hyde, rushed a
house at 423 Pacific Street. Tom Murray was discovered
in a hallway, while he was in the innocent task of carry-
ing stove wood from the basement. He was covered with
a half-dozen revolvers and manacled.
Murray took his arrest lightly and laughingly commenced
to tell the officers the story of the crime.
But the police were not in a conversational mood im-
mediately after making. this capture. They had one of the
bank bandits, but their work wasn’t yet completed. They
wanted the others. They had other information, and leav-
ing Murray in the custody of Detectives, Collins, Coleman,
(Left) Lane County State (Below) The Florence Hotel
and Savings Bank of Flor- in Florence, Oregon, where
ence, Oregon. The X marks Tom Murray’s gang stayed
the door where the hold-up thelnight before the hold-up,
men under the leadership of not{ knowing the proprietor
Tom Murray entered — had them under surveillance
16 The Master
&
others who have been, of are
tempted, to try to beat the law,
then I am richly repaid—THE
AUTHOR.
N the late evening of
December 10th, 1923, three young men who were
acting rather strangely, arrested Mr. J. W. Tan-
ner’s attention in the small town of Florence, Ore-
gon, and the local resident immediately reported
their unusual actions to Mr. J. S. Woodard, the town mar-
shal, and the proprietor of the town’s sole boarding house.
Soon after this report, the men entered the hotel and re-
quested a double room. Being suspicious of them, the mar-
shal gave them two separate rooms, as far apart as pos-
sible. The suspects left a call to be aroused at 8 a. M. the
following morning, and they went to their rooms and to
bed. The two rooms were kept under strict surveillance
during the night as it was thought that the men were petty
thieves, and might get up during the night and rob some
local store or home.
The men, however, were in their rooms at 8 a. M. the
following morning when they were called, and they came
down, and it was observed that they went East past the
bank, and thence to the Eastern part of town and cooked
their breakfast. With this simple act, they were imme-
diately dismissed from thought. For the time being, it was
thought that they were nothing more than erratic lumber
workers wandering through the heavily timbered district,
perhaps in search of jobs, or perhaps just vagabonding their
way through to the coast. There was not the least hint
that one of these three men was to provide sensational
criminal history in the great Northwest in the future months
to come.
It was at 11:30 o’clock on that same morning of: Decem-
ber I1th, 1923, that two of these men, armed to the teeth,
entered the little Lane County State and Savings Bank,
of the town, and covered Carl Bergman, the vice-president,
General view of Front Street in the town of Florence,
Oregon. The X marks the bank which Tom Murray and
his pals stuck up
Detective
with business-looking revol-
vers. The third man stood
on guard outside the bank.
The robbers, young fellows
they were, quickly scram-
bled over the counter and started to scoop up the cash and
currency when Martin Haakinson and Leonard Huck,
ranchers, entered to cash checks.
The two patrons and the bank officer were then forced
into the open vault, the door slammed shut and locked on
them. The robbers: leisurely took all the money in sight,
and had a fifteen minute start before Bergman could work
the lock on the inside, free himself and give the alarm.
The little Oregon town was ablaze with excitement, as
are all small towns during such an incident, and all law
enforcement agencies in Coast counties immediately set to
work to find the robbers.
4,
G@ EVERAL days passed after this robbery, and then
Charles B. Blazier, Nels Berkren and Jack Harring, resi-
dents of the vicinity of Florence, were arrested and con-
fessed that they had helped to harbor the fugitives. They
named Tom Murray, as the leader of the gang. Mur-
ray had been identified as an ex-convict out of San Quentin
Prison.
According to the story told by Blazier to Sheriff Stickels,
of Lane County, he had left his homestead north of Flor-
ence, the Saturday following the robbery, on his way to
Eugene, the county seat, to attend the State Convention
of the Farmers Union. On that evening, he arrived at the
home of Berkren and was met by a strange man who told
him he was a member of the posse that was looking for
the robbers. While the two were talking, two more men
came in and.he was covered with a revolver. He was then
told that the three men were the bank robbers and that
if he wanted to live, he had better help them to get away.
Under the menace of a vicious jab from the gun, Blazier
it!
urray’s
iced to
son. He
urray’s
irter to
tence
sy. The
it he did
» do. So
et?” and
laughed
not tell.
for one
Berkren’s
or us and
at would
red plumb
, who was
g for us.
of Berk-
h my gat,
< business.
oen if he
he'd get
He took
azier, he’s
o death.
if Cushing
Reedsport,
senger into
iv of the
to a train
ce was so
he didn’t
{
ls
* Marsh-
| heard
ie of the
to look in
morning
No Prison Could Hold Him 19
m : mea
2
\
’
and “dolled” up. All these new clothes
were bought by the banker or with the
bank’s money. One or the other is imma-
terial to me, as | am going to lose them
anyway.
“T rented the house over on Pacific
Street and put in $500 worth of furniture. I figured on
handling a little liquor there.
“No, there’s no use in worrying over the deal. I suppose
I'll get sent away for a long stretch. I played for big
stakes, lost, so that’s all there is to it.”:
Walker would not discuss the case or any of it’s phases.
“| don’t know anything about this business. It’s all
new to me, so | have nothing to say.”
Murray, on being locked up, took on himself the blame
for the holdup several months previous, in which John
Eastman, Grand Avenue grocer, lost $7 and- for which a
taxicab driver was in jail.
“I did that job. I used the seven bucks for getaway
dough to Eugene on another caper. The-taxicab driver is
innocent.”
The officers in Portland saw no reason to take this young
bank robber in any more serious vein than the many
others they had come in contact with. His had been the
normal life of any boy with the exception of that fourteen
months in San Quentin prison, and an affection for robbery.
He had gone to school in Winslow, Washington, and had
finished the second year in high school there before he had
quit school at the age of fourteen and gone to wotk. His
first job was in a shipyard. He had also worked in saw-
mills and on several vessels operating out of Seattle.
Wells was freed of being connected with any phase of
the robbery when Tom Murray and Eddie Walker took
the “rap”, and they were under the impression that a term
of ten years would be meted out to them. The District
Attorney of Lane County had promised them that if they
pleaded guilty, saving the county the expenditure of an
expensive trial, two ten year sentences would be given them,
but they would be made to run concurrently. When
Murray and Walker stood before the bar of justice, how-
ever, and the two sentences were imposed, they were made to
The Berkren homestead, about
eight miles north of Florence,
where Tom Murray and. his gang
of bank robbers hid while posses
were scouring the whole country-
side in search of them
amit, a
ie
“4
SRE AARNE:
as
i
run consecutively instead of concurrently.
So Tom Murray was ‘“‘double-crossed
by the ’cutor,” and at that moment, a
sinister. fire kindled in his eyes. He was
now face to face with a twenty year rap,
and that meant thirteen years and four
months, with good time for unblemished behavior taken off.
Over thirteen long years of hard time, of wretchedness, of
soul-killing misery. Sure, there was a pardon board in the
prison where commutations were meted out to the deserv-
ing and the undeserving, but this pardon board was not for
him. Wasn’t he a “loser” and wasn’t the Banker’s Associa-
tion back of him to offer strong opposition for any pro-
posed executive clemency that might present itself in years
to come? There was no alternative but to shake that time
in the “stir’—unless—he would escape.
R!IGHT then, a vow was made that was never broken.
If the banker and the ranchers who had been held up
in the Florence bank, the officers of the Portland Police
Department, and the officials of the Oregon State Peni-
tentiary could have heard that vow “to beat the joint at
any costs” and at the same time could have foreseen the
quick-trigger capabilities of that blonde-haired, and pleas-
ant-faced young bandit, he would have immediately been
placed in the prison’s strongest cell, and “the key would
have been thrown away.”
For no sooner had the great iron gate clanged shut be-
hind him at the prison, than he started searching for an
“out.” That search never ceased until Tom Murray had
breathed his last, and in the years to come, he was to in-
stigate manhunts that have never been, and probably never
will be, excelled in the West. He was to provide chills, and
thrills and headlines that outdid any bandit activities in
that Western portion of the country, and to use his own
words, “I will make Harry Tracy turn over in his grave.”
Once inside the walls, there never were two humans sen-
tenced to pay a debt to society, whose opinions varied
greater than Eddie Walker and Tom Murray on “how to
shake their time.”
They were received at the pris- (Continued on page 61)
Keeper of
time of
al escape
ition escaped
Eddie tossed
less gesture.
“straight in
vhich met his
for, standing
e thirty feet,
rd, his burly
o emerge out
ood, lay back
and waited—
ave. But the
there, for one
mvicts fought
them, a far-
of those mir-
netime during
ever, for Mc-
heavy body a
y stance.
rht as well get
he said philo-
use in both of
snow that two
who goes out.”
itching of two
No Prison Could Hold Him 21
(Right) Ivan McClain, burly 275 pound
prison guard who was a deciding factor in
foiling one of Tom Murray’s cleverly
planned wholesale jail deliveries
splinters of wood, he was the lucky one.
A moment later, Mike had removed the
short blocks of wood, and emerged out in the
summer air, only to be immediately seen by
the guard.
“Well kid,” the guard greeted, “it’s about
time you're coming out.”
“About fime I’m coming out?” he echoed,
pretending to be surprised. “I been in there
asleep, Mac. Hiding from work.” Mike
laughed, but the sound was forced and unconvincing.
McClain’s laughter was as hard as brass, “Oh yes, |
know,” he said tolerently. “I’ve been waiting for you to
come out all afternoon. Come on, let’s go up to the house.”
Eddie was instantly out in the air and on his feet as
soon as the guard was gone with his prisoner. After brush-
ing all evidence of mud from his clothing and shoes, he
started on his way to the yard just as the evening whistle
blew. A faint smile flickered across his mouth as he
marched in the cellhouse. This was a lucky break to rave over.
[ MMEDIATELY following breakfast the following morn-
ing, Murray and all of his plotting colleagues were locked
in their cells, except one. And that exception was Crosby.
It later developed that he had turned “informer” and had
advised the Warden of the proposed escape.
It never was an established fact that Billy Crosby really
committed this unpardonable sin—from a “con’s” view-
point, but nevertheless, the rap was forced on him, and
the other convicts avoided him as if he were some vile and
repulsive leper. He was placed outside the walls with
trusty privileges a short time after this incident, and his
original sentence of twenty-five years was com-
muted to six. Then, right on the heels of this
commutation, he escaped himself.
Once again, Murray and his pals were assigned
to cells in the “Bullpen” for an indefinite stay of
solitary confinement “to think things over” while
on a diet of beans and hash. After thirty days
or so, they were back on the “main line” with all
their customary privileges of smoking marihauna.
For the smoking of marihauna (flower of the .
hemp plant) was rampant in the Oregon prison
in those days. The drug was ohtained by the
convicts from hemp hauled into the prison yard,
and, which came in, in large truckloads of flax
which was worked up in the penitentiary flax mill
by the convicts.
MARIHAUNA, pronounced merry-hawana, and
called “griefo” or “merry” by addicts that
use it, is a product of Mexican hemp, just as
hashish is a product of the Far East. Mari-
hauna, however, is used in a cruder state than is
hashish, and because it contains a volatile drug,
it is most often taken in the form of a smoke,
and sometimes mixed with tobacco. It pro-
duces a high exhilaration, and when taken in
excess, it motivates brutal criminality. It is
notoriously a fact that gunmen who occupy the
lowest level in the ranks of crimeg§are usually
wretched cowards. To undertake assassination,
they need something to “pep them up.” Give one
of these professional murderers a few whiffs of
marihauna mixed with tobacco and he
immediately loses all sense of fear. For
a brief time nothing daunts him; he
becomes a killer, ruthless and deadly.
I do not mean to infer that either
Murray, or Willos, or Kelley needed
anything “to pep them up” for the
killer instinct was in them, and only
time was required to bring this fact
to light, but there is no denying the
fact that marihauna did bring all the
weakness, and viciousness in those
men’s characters to the surface.
Marihauna is worse than opium,
and sets a man who smokes it almost
crazy and makes them violent. It
creates false illusions and hallucina-
tions, and the author of this story has
seen many men go insane through it’s
use. Fifty per-cent of the convicts used
it, many guards used it and Tom Murray used it to his regret.
After Murray emerged from the Bullpen this time, he
resolved to effect his next escape single-handed. Too many
guys in “on the know” was not good business, and then
his many incarcerations in the medieval-like solitary row
were quickly establishing him as an incorrigible,
So, going about his way quietly alert, his constant vigil
for a loophole was soon rewarded and late August found
him again ready to leave his twenty year sentence behind.
A power flume enters the prison in the center of the West
wall, and turning abruptly about in the center of the yard,
it courses South and empties out under the South wall.
A guard tower juts upward, almost above the water.
which makes it hazardous for any convict to attempt
to cut a bar leading to freedom, for by craning his neck
a little, the guard can see quite plainly the heavy iron
grating.
But Tom Murray had a hunch that this flume could be
beat. He was more firmly convinced than ever that his
hunch was correct when he noticed that the guard was
always an interested spectator while the Saturday after-
noon ball game was in progress, always having a pair of
22 The Master
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Brt 74
A code letter from “Crowbar” Kelley to his pal
“Oregon” Jones when the latter was in solitary
powerful-lensed binoculars fixed to his eyes and apparently
oblivious to the grating beneath him,
He managed to take possession of three hacksaw blades
and on the afternoon of August 24th, 1924, he was ready to
put his hunches on trial. After hasty thought, he figured
that if he escaped at all, he would have several hours start
before he would be missed, so why not give another long-
termer a chance to go. No sooner thought than done, and
he took Eugene Kidder, serving ten years for larceny, into
his confidence and Kidder readily agreed to his plans.
So about two o'clock, while the excitement of the ball
game was at its height, Murray and Kidder dropped into
the flume at a point near the laundry, swam until they
came within about thirty yards of the point where the
power flume passes under the wall. There Kidder waited
under the railroad bridge, until Murray swam ahead and
cut the bars that extend from the wall to the bottom of
the flume.
It took him nearly half-an-hour to cut through the steel
bar, and all three of the hacksaw blades were required for
the job. And all the time he was sawing, he was virtually
under the guard's nose, but he might as well have been in
China, for the guard was absorbed heart and soul in the
stirring ball game. When the bar had been cut, Murray
signaled to Kidder and the two men swam out to liberty.
At three o’clock, one hour after the escape, these bars
were inspected by a prison guard and a report was made
that they were all right. But one bar was missing when
the inspection was made.
The convicts were not missed by the officials until after
the evening lockup at 4:30 o'clock, giving them a start of
two-and-one-half hours. They really had more start than
this, for by the time a search was completed to ascertain
that the men were not “planted” within the walls, and the
missing bar was discovered, another precious half-hour was
consumed,
Detective
Fe od A. « oat tt wont
eke Nf scant ‘hb -.ei7 @O oc
QenctNe we ---'2 DP ---BRME 3 st 7
ey, ae <M Z ---2:1003 cn Ae 7,
y--- } 7 Laut S ---381D.3 TW as BYE YT
g--- t ..-AGATS ---pecavs i A
Wee o's ee aBOUT & ---sornx On oe
eas Ne Vo ---ALL 7] ---CARE DL ss ee
See bo earner 7] ---caerur he. bth
Eee af > .--s180 N ---can OA -- enor
mew oC dy ---43K he ---cauT SA eee vy
Me-- JF .--asnotuen Z ---caur. O° = ---Fo0r,
Bian iooe SRW ca AEE RICE N™ ---covm OO ---veoLED
ens NS NT wae AWAY PE ---COULD'IT x ---FOr
p--- 7 Wo ---aumays TB ---citarte: fr ---FF 0
eeterd. eng ET CS Fa J CD -- CROOK." Cs)
awl POR ~~~ 40. © ---cowr AD --1
g--- 1 “ee eee wHOL. LOT GS fee we PL 37
pene Le A ---BegTy ® ---cove be ET
p--- S ---he @ ---car BS ---¥s
aw : g = --FLING f ___deatu AS eerste
Were 1 AW onne RR IG P-L See ee
w-- £ <5 OUT * ---rean Fi --
tesa bee kate F ---daua S Gee
tL --eBeFere 7) ---nowni fr -.-
CH ---2ap so 2 DONT La -510
<D wsckest st =-=D0 AA o++tor:
CTY eee BM ---!01NG Oy ses =
MA -e nits 9 ---prp x és
Key to the secret code used by “Crowbar” Kelley to
communicate to “Oregon” Jones
There was just one report made on the missing fugitives
After emerging to the outside world, wet and dripping.
they jade their way southward along the mill race unul
they came to a-group Qf boys swimming, where the county
road crosses the stream.
“Hello,” shouted, the boys in unison, “come on in.”
“No thanks.” replied Murray, with a chuckle, “just going
out.”
That was the Jast seen of the fugitives—for awhile.
HE authorities presumed that Murray would attempt
to guide his companion into secure nooks this time, dis-
covered on his previous flight, and fears were expressed
openly that he would avoid the mistakes which led to his
recapture before. With a gesture of humiliation, Warden
Dalrymple sent the wires humming with the startling re-
port, “Murray gone again.”
On September 15th, 1924. two weeks and a few days after
he had escaped, the Warden received a wire that Murray
had met recapture in Butte, Montana.
Murray still showed mute evidence of a third attempt to
win freedom while police were placing him in jail in Butte
when he reached the Oregon prison. He was captured after
he had entered a store there in search of money and when
an automobile, bringing him to the police station from the
scene of the attempted crime stopped at the station, he
attempted to run. The police didn’t shoot; they caught him
and then administered a beating that kept him calm and
meek until he greeted the Warden in Oregon. A battered
head with bloodstains on his shirt plainly showed the
results of that beating.
He was placed behind prison bars once again, sullen and
dissatisfied and laughing only when he was asked if he
would attempt to escape again, but he did tell this story,
however.
“We made a wide sweep of Salem after we left the sii
f---0 is
pr --- AY
2 ~-=*ESae
© ---! eee
J anne Vek
Vas RYT 1
$ acer A3Y
Foon Vi BING
$s Sie Me
Av ---nithet
Noo! SOO
A nner HEY
Oo ---FOOT
O ---roonrd
< ---FOR
foo ---PF OM
fo seed
MH 22-15
— .--¥ 1) 37
WA coal
3 -.-ve9
SS ---Past?
KF 22st
oe
F 07
a --- 0
A
a
A -
Kelley to
sing fugitives
and dripping,
nill race until
ere the county
eon in.”
cle. “just going
wr awhile.
would attempt
this time, dis-
were expressed
hich led to his
jiation, Warden
he startling re-
i few days after
re that Murray
hird attempt to
in jail in Butte
s captured after
noney and when
station from the
the station, he
they caught him
him calm and
eon, A battered
nly showed the
iain, sullen and
was asked if) he
d tell this story,
we left the san
ae
SESSILIS ©
No Prison Could Hold Him 23
and we walked to Portland, sleeping in the daytime and
travelling during the night. In the Portland railroad yards,
we grabbed ourselves some freights and rode into Butte.
In Butte, we had to get some money as we still had our
“con” clothing on, and we picked out a store to burglarize.
AS we were approaching the store, Kidder got “cold
feet” and. refused to go on with it. I offered to do
the job alone, however, and ordered him to remain outside.
Having no keys to pick the lock with ‘or any tools to
smash it with, I sloughed in a window and the crash of
the falling glass awoke the proprietor, and I got a rank.
“I didn’t kngw the bulls were outside though, and when
] handed out a sackful of clothes for the two of us, and
some chuck, why, instead of handing them to Kidder, |
placed them right in the arms of a big dick himself!
“That’s alt there is to it. Kidder either. took a run-out
powder without warning me, or else he got a hot rank
himself and*didn’t have the opportunity. Anyway, he was
gone—I was left—holding the-sack. I hope he gets away,
but if he did do a runout, it was a dirty trick.
“We were headed for Yellowstone National Park. After
that, we were to go East. But that’s all off now. It hap-
pens that I’ve changed my course. I’m going straight South
now—to the Bullpen.” (Continued on page 72)
(Left) More key words in Below to the left is ‘“‘Crow-
the secret code of “Oregon” bar” Kelley and to the right
Jones and ‘‘Crowbar” Kelley. is his buddy “Or€gon”’ Jones,
Both were in on Tom Mur- who wielded a hypnotic
ray’s most desperate escape power over him
72
dim light from the darkened lamps.
Troop trains crept in from the outer
darkness and unloaded their human
freight of war-worn men. Intelligence
officers moved about the station on
mysterious missions. A dull roar of
sound arose, the blend of voices of Man
and Engine, while the hissing of steam
from safety valves ran through it all
like the motif through an opera.
We strolled together, Dan and me,
along the platform, glancing occasion-
ally at the soldiers behind the lit win-
dows of the crowded troop train that
waited for the signal to move, chatting
idly of many things from old days in
the C. |. D. to war-time adventures that
had befallen us.
For some strange reason, Dan seemed
morose and reticent; this was not his
nature and I wondered what trouble
The Master Detective
was weighing upon his mind. In a tact-
ful way | tried to cheer him up.
“Cheer up, Dan! The first seven
years are the worst!”
But the old Army cliché failed to
bring a smile to his lips. He remained
silent now, his brooding gaze turned to
glance at the station clock.
“Dan,” I said quietly, “pull yourself
together. Don’t let things get on top of
you. You. and I have been through
worse shows than this,” and I linked
my arm companionably in his.
I felt him shudder. Then he turned
his head and looked me senha in the
eyes ... they were like those of a con-
demned man. He spoke and his voice
held a queer ring, as though it was not
the Dan I knew that talked but some
Inner Voice that knew more than w
‘mere mortals. °
“Ted,” he said, “I think this is the
last time I shall see you.”
What _ is this strange feeling that
makes Dan MacLaughlan fear for his
future safety?
Is there some impending doom
which he alone can foresee that will
take not only his own but the life of
the great man he is guarding?
The startling climax to this out-
standing’ chapter in MacLaughlan’s ca-
reer shocked the entire civilized world
—what was it?
Don’t miss the next instalment of
this sensational story of how the great
are guarded. The man who knows
the inside facts of this most interest-
ing of all detective work continues
his great story in the March issue of
MASTER DETECTIVE, on sale at all
news stands on February 20th. Order
your copy now!
No Prison Could Hold Him
(Note: Murray was quite bitter to-
wards Kidder, firm in his belief that
his pal had deliberately let the Butte
officers catch him red-handed. But
Tom Murray was harboring in his
mind an unjust conviction. Kidder was
unaware that the store proprietor had
heard the crash of the falling glass and
had telephoned the police... The officers
were virtually on top of him before he
realized anything was wrong and he
was forced to run without having the
opportunity to warn his fugitive com-
panion. )
MURRAY went back to the Bullpen
all right, served his hitch which
was by this time becoming rather mon-
otonous and this time when he was
dressed out there was a_ perceptible
change in him. The change was slight,
but it was apparent enough for the offi-
cials to offer him a chance to make
good by being given employment in the
prison boiler room.
He was quieter, more reserved, and a
sort of grim look touched his lips to
replace his ordinary, happy-go-lucky
smile. Soon, several “cons” noticed the
change in him, the same change the
officials had noticed, and it was gener-
ally believed that Tom Murray was
cowed, tamed, depressed with fear of
the dreaded Bullpen’s punishment. Had
they but known that inwardly he was
seething with rebellion, that he was but
a human keg of dynamite ready to be
touched off, they would have kept him
under the strictest surveillance possible.
For Murray was now dangerous. He
was aietinalty “pepped up” on mari-
huana, and he was discarding all
escape plots where violence was not an
item. No longer was he just a keen,
resourceful, convict planning on an es-
-cape where no thoughts of staining his
hands with a guard’s blood was assured.
He was thinking in terms now of ve- '
hement force, of overwhelming power.
But the officials never once dreamed of
the murderous thoughts racing through
his brain and they were sublimely con-
fident that he was “cured” once and for
all.
(Continued from page 23)
Fall passed and winter came; win-
ter melted into spring, and many things
had happened around the prison.
Things that were startling. For Joe
tani classed as one of the reall
ad men of the “joint” was outside
with trusty privileges and this was al-
most too amazing to be true.
Granted permission to interview War-
den Dalrymple, Jackson astounded his
listener with his first remark:
“Warden, how’s the chance to go out
trusty?”
The Warden was bewildered and he
showed it. He was speechless.
Jackson remained unperturbed.
“Warden,” he said, “I’ve made a few ©
escapes from this prison and have tried
several others. | am_ still hanging
around, however, doing time, and the
way things are going I’ll lose my four
years good time in spite of hell. If
you'll give me a chance to break away
from this gang and go outside where |
can try to earn my good time back, I’ll
promise to stick.”
Warden Dalrymple was a suave, cold,
self-contained individual. He was not
a man to betray his emotions easily.
“You want to break away from the
gang, ¢hP” he parried. “I ahenigite you
respected that gang?”
ACKSON stiffened and there was a
pale cast to his face. “I do respect
them,” he said grimly. “Respect them
more than anyone in the dump. And
that’s just the reason I want to get
away bil them. I respect them so
much that if I stick around with them,
I'll be with them heart and soul in any
caper they undertake. That’s why I
want out trusty.”
Warden Dalrymple gazed at Jack-
son hard and long, silently turning
things over in his mind. Then suddenly
he reached a decision. He was an ex-
cellent judge of men, and he was con-
vinced that this convict was telling the
truth.
“All right,” he said abruptly. “I'll
give you a hat, Joe. But God help you
1f you run.” 1
o Joe Jackson went out trusty, driv-
ing a tractor miles away from the pris-
on, where the green fields and whole-
some air replaced the stench of the
cells and corridors of the ancient cell
block wings, and he stuck.
“Crowbar” Kelley was now employed
in the cell house, where he was up early
in the morning and out until late at
night. But he never made any attempt
to escape and he was observing all the
prison rules religiously. His idol and
master, “Oregon” Jones, was gone, and
without Jones, Kelley was like a ship
without a rudder.
Clive M. Weekly was employed in
the pump house, considered a “gold-
brick’s” position in the prison, where
he was also permitted to stay out of
hig,cell until late hours, but there was
no sign of trouble from him either.
4 , .
[N fact, everything was running so
smoothly inside the walls that that
alone should have been an ominous
sign that something was brewing.
The officials received a letter from
Oregon Jones, in September 1924, and
it was still a puzzle they were trying
to solve. The letter had been addressed
to W. H. Fisher, head chapel guard at
the prison, and was postmarked Buf-
‘falo, New York.
Here was the full text of the letter:
“Catholic Club of Buffalo, New
York.
“Dear Sir—I guess this will be a
kind of a knockout to you but never-
theless it is true. I am coming back
there (Salem) within the next few
weeks. I would come now but I am
married and don’t want to leave my
wife broke. I was in Niagara Falls yes-
terday and Toronto, Canada, the day
before. And I am leaving tonight for
Chicago. My wife is here with me but
is going to stay here with her folks.
And when I make her a few dollars, I
am coming back to Salem. Give Dewey
and my gang my best regards.
“OREGON” JONES.
Jones did not return to Salem within
those following few weeks, however, as
he promised that he would do. The
pai Je St 12 Bebe sais BGeetes. ;
4 That at phils dime a man came
© isto” the ‘store, ‘and-E°tslg this
bl to” Ket Uke’ gan” off the ‘po
at Meeman, who had it on ‘him, and
t @ ctoog- ‘Yhere and ‘this. potlee-f5
wan told thie man to take the}
e_that I’ would “mbt” “part 1 nite,
ag
r, and this mmr tock the gua “oft
2) this policeman, ‘and: also . picked
e'ap the gun that had been. deop-|,
iP. ped by the other policeman, and
4 bended both guns to me. That-£
¥,:then ordered the two ‘poileemen
Mito the back of the store, and
st this boy mentioned this would-woy ang she said H#t-waa- EE
po *elock
at..slosesurg, Oregon, where | on the same road I. had ‘driven.
fed. Aim and bought him a pack- fn, leaving tha bara down, and | |
‘age of cigarettes, and we con-) walked south on the highway ta.
‘Gigaea driving south, and- we: jShady Sorings Cantp, ang { naw |
stopped narth of Grants Pasa at’ a car there and T went over. to}
“gervice station. ‘and Fa ‘BasO-tha stote at gi his camp and aka |
Hibs and -a cup of coffee, and tho woman ttiere whose car that |
~ re
be-an easy place for a atick un. -hand’s and I asked her. ig-- 2)
spd we continued driving south, fond hire He to- take mb, to’: the:
kh Grants Pass, Ore., and: ‘next town and she gaid he was!
| Medtord, Ore., and wa arfived at’ out, amg T then sat ‘down ‘at the:
Asian’, “Oregon, where - S°¥OR counter: -and- _ordared~ -- OAD: ~ af.
a.m. and we drove coffee, That avtey dri inkl nz this —
throuzh the business ‘section, and: ‘eotfee, Which the woman would ©
x! they went back: and I-walked out|eame to ‘where tha- boulevard not take any pay for, L sat. tor:
ithe front. of the store, and walk-! oad starts, ang we had driven soma time thinking matters over,
sel ed to my car, parked at the sid@ ghout ona block south on this ang finally in about 25 minutes =
28! of the building. That when A poulevard street, when. a Chev-' two men eeme up and the. ques
iriwent out, the front. door, one. of. yotet-car.-drove-up-and sounded - png. me; and [-trieq to runa,
L-\the polieemen in the store sbol-|y siren. and I stopped my car, ture on them. 1 had “made nit |
idclored and when I sot to my car pulling inte the side of the curb. ayy ming T was net going ta do_
‘eit saw another policeman aboutjamd an officer came up on.the any more shooting, That I had 4
se 'Wifteen feet from the car and litefe hang side. of thea ear and T ona enn on mr, which,was a 2% |
o Jumped in my car and got tej rolled the left front. window ca) Smith & Weasen, that 1
|motor started during which tlme/down. and this officer aid nad taken ont a the cap when
a; this polleeman was shooting ati‘where are the papers to TRiS- T stenned qn the side toad. as: i
aime, and he fired five shots aticar,” and I told him fT had no get forth above, whieh gun T had.
a} , one going through my hat, ; Paper. or no drivers license, This strek down the frant of mv panis)
oo eee ee “s SHOE | ottice then said I will have to and the offieers found thie gun
—-againat my left arm, and the. sake you down = to tRe Staten. on the second search dhd phac=
e,(ather lodging in my left wrist, i move over, and: he fot: in the of mo inier arrest. That I had i
r- |also breaking the eae eee’ left paido of the front seat to plenty Of thme to draw this gim-
ig} door window, the left rear: door Avice it. My motor Wiis sfill run=" and “soot ese niew while they
ai window and the windshield of
o, the DeSoto Sedan. That I knewi
hts gum was empty and I could
gq have shot this poMceman doing}
oj the shooting, but I-did not do | Soto sedan. He was “driving my.
ule. although I thad fhree loaded’
a) Snes in the ear.
“| phat I speeded up went in
» [Lake Washington | Boulevard, and
” | droves to. Tacoma. Wash, That 1
bandage the wound on my left
wrist stopped at a drug.
‘Store_and.honght.soma_bandage
and adhesive tape and curicomb
and bandaged up my wrist. That
}the wound In my. chest _did- not.
: bleed.
}
= . .
at at I got a room fn a cheap
a -hotel in Taeoma, and _ I stayed
bihare two or three days and went
back to Seattle, and got some
ning. and ihe started the car pea gs aaa WPLTe Wattinw, face a TOURS Thane cab} Be
first hacking up to get around nat tT had dona enaug),. shooting
filg car. which he had driven-and jy my. opinion. That T was place).
stopped right in front of the De: ed under arrest, affering no re- ._
aistance, and Was placed in. the Th
;car south, ang T reached in’ my. county Jail of Jackson County, ©
right overcoat pocket. 0, et Oregon, ‘after. being held in thet ae
338. cal, Marlin — revolver T hat police station at As shiand, tet a
there. and I pulled the gun out ‘shbrt time, 9 — oe
and tolid-this polica officer to... That Lrealize oa 1 have com. fit
stop, holding the gun in my right - “mitted a” very © serious crime,- bed
hand: ‘that. I don’t ‘remember ° that IT hag hever met this officer -
whether this officer said _ANY-. before, “ang had. never cheard of |
thing op-not,- but -he. was reach-: him before. and I. “sincerely —re-_
ing for the gun and I was hold-. gret-. that. by omy. actions - he.met.
ing-it up with my right. hand. I with | An. untimely. death,
tolq this officer “I .don’t want to! Dated at Medford, Orexan, this
me tl
hurt you—listen to reason’, That | ol day of January, 1921.-
while wa woere—senftiire:—he-h had- : S--PKingstey- 3 ea
lost contro} q? the cag and it ran | Signed ‘in: tho presence of:
up on the curb, with both front: Herhert: Moore, C. P, Talent,
money of the hank, 340; ne. Aes
Sams J aa Feeney ey TS thaw PK te ny ~
GQ. A. Codding. |!
Ye Pag} sat
wheels over the curb, and the O. Ww. Dunford.
vee bh,
Se Need
7 ed with the cement gang in con-ley I bad advanced to. him, ‘J
ee | ee ae ee
taree years at WUaTCe MeiCT=>) per week, 10 wors 2€Ing Goue oR
_ atory. ° That I was then 22 years! Sunday; That I stayed thers and
of age and I stayed at Monroe} worked at this place for gbout
Reformatory for eighteen months.jtem days, and dusing .this-time-]
That I was asaigned to the bar-|met an ex-convict in’ a restau-
ber shop as I wanted to learmj rant, and he suxgested . to
the barber trade and while #0] thaé we stick wp someone:
_ assigned, my wife came to eal . That while I was srt ad eter
reformatory and made some kind] to the boy’é du
of. complaint, and 1 was taken|tween Graad Jusction. end Galt .
out of the barber shop and plac- Lake City, for repeyment.of mon- stick-wn ‘onda Around here”
the girt satd she did not knc ox
— sae ~th snoa
at this olsee, whieh wags all thi,
wag_in the cash register ana
asked the proprietor” where : |
fost of the money was and
ie the. Mak and Twas. otl
"| taking. money from this camp
sa but to ask the proprietor of
I was on the gement gang for? office of an iw
two months when 1 was pat back That as bebind the e«
structing 3 new ceil house. That] noticed a pile of money in the!
a @ $599.4 ft} Kogister witht the roprietar.: |
in the barber shop, and I worked/on top, anf when I agt this ¢s- °
tea
" + ¢$-} short. man, at this time,
thbre ew en: _ jeouvict 1 mentloped this fet. tal steppag around ihe side bret
That I wag released from Mon-| him, as it looked to bo a way » gna r rn .
roe Reformatory on the 16th off job to get money. from 154 tele- : 5
; Pollegttien
: ‘December, 1929, when I went to | phone company; and = 84 tert ther cary, ware ” and :
my bdfother’s homé at Aberdes®,| the matter ovér and b¢ wets. Mjone of them hed bis gue o
Wagh., and I steyed with my! the telephone offeasnd | he dropped it and tha otha
vrother. for three months, taxing|attzation ever and we Bectted one faa abs ma hak
Way of
Signer 3 anew end de 2
we: tee
ws fom ia
1%
_ printer, starting at $13.96,
the second week [| received $21.00
- the work and they let me go. I.
then worked for the Daily ai in Colorado, 1 was working inf
gone straight _
That I then secured emgioy-}
dan waa kept, belonging to the
then. secured work with Frayne
& Co. at Seattle, as apprentice
and
and the third week $25.99
week and they then decided I did
not have enough experience for
a;
4
at Seattle, Wash. as apprefitice
printer and again my past revert at $2.00 per day and fi iota s
couple of tires for the car td get |
ment; That I was then 22 Jear8 ity the job and while” working
haying. four adage later, depe a
ma
resulted {fn nyy loss of eaploy.
—age,- -had--not—been— abie~
save any mosey on account of
iff came over looking for-me. I
found out about it, and not wis5-|
ing to be caught, J left. J stoie}*
PeTia Ford, Model A. and wen to
Colorado, figuring on getting out
of the counts}, and to go to a}
While
place I was got kuown. *
the hay fields near Beeker, Cale.,
sheriZ cams out and atrgsted
it save,
howe
dredge and one aighy wale j was,
‘watching for him, a deputy sher- |
a ae Ld eee a 2% ch oh st |
swoposed tc to come upon a. bus a4
, 2 was. going to drive the DeSot
sedan, but we lost connection
r it” ‘Pesttind.“Ores_sea-- 5 hat
sence seen him again.
That I drove up to Aberd
Wash., to pull off this jcb,
ghowing up, I
Seattle, Wash.,
vhs for a few days, and
bafore Christmas, 1939, I held «
be Senecg Drug Brees at st
oe tthe: -and-Seneca—£
athe, Wash, and got "$62.4
—heavy—tamily- expenses, and. %2a en, stealtig. the tres. - “YT tried’ 8 ork the” ‘eash register. Wea
in debt for klothing Yor my wifs =y for was fires
and for furniture for our home,! 1 pat the apeng: who Wie 2a days:
out hek sto. the- ‘came -pharmacy_tfiy
slater .1 held wp the. saz
and was very much discouraged: sing for- re-disetion, woald ~net phatmacy and got about 57.04
That I had tried ‘hard to hold ‘listen, to it, and |_was. stnténced
. That. 1 then_ ‘went to Vancout
this position aad if 1 had been fits the reformatory st Baena- Vise 0f}> ‘Washington, in the DeSo
given a fair show, ‘would have a, Colo. fot an indetisite.
{ rtom ote to ten yoers. -
peviet
which 1 had repainted, and use
jdifterent Iicenee plates cn, az
That 1 wan confinad oe thle ial it stayed there fop a Tew day
Co., an “aiueRoblle concern, s€l-ianen f gends my encape. Sts
ing cars on commission.
knew two men wpho wanted to
purchase a car, they being ta the}
That I}saa in November, 1936, aad 1
made my get away sad t hitch
hiied to Crand Jasittion, Cois.,
bootlegging business, and I work-! corked a day thers 29 a. barber.
ed with them a month trying to
sell them a car, did not makd ex-}
penses, becamo sick and never!
went back to work. About two
received $3.75 for my day’s work,
jand then hitch hiked to Salt Lake
City, Utah, and on the road: to
Aleit Lake, I met a fellow who
weeks later these two men,.came; fold me he had a couple of
to.me and asked me if I knew;
where they could secure a car
and I told them where the
keys were and where a Nash se-
and made a trip te Vancouver, B.
a +% ‘with it and they
~claiming” that I | had - turned tke
finance company. These two;
men Went down and took the car}
‘got drunk
and ot in & smash up. and were
—pteked® UD. “to Washington ;- these}
two men lafd the blame on me,|
promise to me that they would
ee on eng ae oer,
I was sentenced to from one to
nares years ‘at Monroe Reform
yo mee k,n ae i a
checks, showing me the checks,
felling me his story. ag to how
he got them fer work done, and
i paid for his meals and bed,
which I got the money back for}:
ond aiter- my retura-.i0_ Seatth
Wash, 1 held wp a clothing stor
in tie. Uatversity ‘Distriet, ar
got’ 317,29, from the cash” reg
fgter, also some shirts anil soc
and ties, also a white sweate
Sq oe suit case, This wag i
(January, 1931,-and I held th
| Proprietor up, tied hint ang stay
ed in the store about an how
This was between eight en
auine a, m. and while I w
there, with my hat and coat of:
ithe mail man came in and deliv
ered tg. me ,the morning mail
_ That I banked some of thi
fram his” folks at Bingham Cac-
yon, and I went to work. for the
White Sewiag Machine Company
at Salt Lake City, selling sewing}
machines. That. 1 worked _ &
week, but - “unable te: make
any sales, and‘ went brose. Waik-
monéy in the Seaboard Bank.
j branch © ‘of the Dexter Hortor
“Phat: the. next. eee aes
ashy
wae driving: atound: “town, in - the
5 Serer le ay
DeSoto sedan: I spotted a drus
ing down the street I looked ip] Store at “16th apd Revahiiens
“reataurat ~7 window,——Miggjon'
Cafe, and saw a sign bus bar}
take care of me, I took the; wanted, went in Bad secured the,
_.._vlame, I entered a plea of guilty}
fob: that I received $1,009 per
day for this work, and “one “meal
dally, which amounted to $6.00}
sad week, 10° work being done on
Streets, __Seattle.. __.Wash.' | abou
L19:30 or 11:08 p. m., Just
they, were closing the ‘store an
4i- went. in and stack up the «
ptfetor and a wr .
.Qlen in this. store * pI
Lg19. 60 from the - cath. regiete
at
Ot Sq ain an Se ee
sot) aka jai’ isda. s28 gaac”
~qnurderer, Although the mur-—--- pe - to -make-- -the- $10,000
_der-was done in.cold blood— -
although Officer Prescott wan
_ not given a chance for his
Pike ae = )
= —PAIR-TO THE COMMUNITY
7 = SWHcH HELD 17s ‘PRIM.
life—althongh the Comnimn-
ity hay suffered a definite
loss which will be felt, as
well as the personal loss of -
_ those to whom Sammy was
Hy dear—till the
2 killer is entitled tg a fair
y triel, BUT IT SHOULD BE
=A TRIAL FAIR ‘TO SAMMY,
AS WELL AS FAIR TO THE
RUTHLESS, HEARTLESS
alge made- the eonfession, W hich
ch olding hack something:
4 Nineslev told the traffic of-
.
"iar be
sie erime eareer, although)
—ILLER.— There shouldbe pert “thercmight hy a
a. ana ¥ jvo- J aawab so + wher ee
itcad set by the court. <——
! At the time Kingsley
pras printed in The: Daily
, Tidings Monday afternoon,
tatfiears:- felt tliat Tie Wa
; This morning, when closeted.
iwith Captain (. P. Talent.
Seer additional details of
en incider ts were not as.
a
no play for sympathy. The
case should be heard on it.
~nerita.~ This “bemz done— —~Crah, stedling “his” “automobile.
the ends of justice mast te
“served. Not merely as put-
“jshment to the man whee
lack of respect to his oblijza-
tion to society to live cles
ly and fairly, leads him in
the shadow of the gallow —
but as a definite response to
the challenge of gangland,
that organized society car-
_not and will not tolerate and
protect by mis-directed sym-
pathy which © sometimes ac-
companics the notorious
glamor for crime, those
criminals who break not. on}y—_ The second incident _ he relat-
the laws of the land, bt.t
insiduously break down re-..
spect . for law and order anid
woukd eventaally plunge us
: Into ® chaos .of lawlessness.
- de »
wae SHOULD “yor. “torget.
We should reme
7 2 Seweey of ‘Officet “Prescot
we should realise he. died
protecting - society. He was >
aa truly heroic in his task as
oe, whe fell on the battle
. drastic measures against those |
- who break the law, Jer? us
{was tcld by Kingsley.
ae
as - TRAIN 18 LATE |
When Kingsley and a com-
ranion hel@ a taxi driver dn’
whieh Kingsley was driving .at.
the time of the--murdor, officers:
felt that Kingsley posalbly” had
killed the taxi dr?ver. This morn-
ing he denéed this in an amend-
ment to hig previous confession.
Kingsley “stuck up” the taxi
driver and hia companion “crow-
ned’? the driver with his pistol.
Kingsley stated this morning.
He said he had feared his. com-
~ $a nion” had killed the taxi man.
but that when he later got pa-
pers, he saw where the drive:
hag recovered.
ed this morning was that eafiy
in November, after returning tc
Washington, he was married the
second time in Seattle .wkhout
having procured - a divorce fram
hig first wife..
-.. Nothing. else . of importance
purcy—Distrier—
“George Neilson” said this .afier-
+ moop that the plan is to disciss
‘the ‘Matter of a special seasion
of the Grand Jury with | ‘Circult
- Jdudge HD,” Norton, and” Stole
of France. And when |
Ee cas cae a ne.
hoped a speedy trial may “be: Be
leured, ere % an rag
ee a, Pay,
a Ten NP ny "y comta tte mages }
eo @
“fis CUmatlle) Ve 9-FLG22
-
Last resi, Lui ate ase 2d ¢ Gu LASS AF hee MacGeeF ; oF aad Lie.
FEES Mert, oy Th. ilo. tt 7G
4
oo Ly ee : - ore A iy.
A “Le ity j
yea. fir L, as Chiwrig Pes, hoked
pnte ent, Chae, Chtedge Ve S7b)1P 77
fSyecial to C.-T.)
YORK, March t,-—Insisting
vestion toward Independ-
Philfppines is “unwise,
iHil-considered and ftnad-
’ President Taft in an article
Tribune today
freedom of the
“ham the presi-
“to inake one more appeal
iittle brown brother. It is
possible to contemplate a
o geant independence to
> now, without the sus-
of tle,
On either
tri 4 ved
York
the
lad,”
New
lesire to escape re-
to contemplate the
er who imposes like
son
Hik
r
immature
article re-
sident Taft's
and
insists
he
feugth Ba
pines,
He
the Ph
}
"
TOLD OT
“I the
\
th 1.—Follow-
‘of the senate yes-
terday, today passed the
Webb bi prohibiting the shipment of
Niquor from wet to dry states, over-
riding the Taft veto by a vote of 244
vs. The senate passed the bill
er Taft’s veto by a vote of 63 to 21.
The Webb bill passed both houses
of Congress and went to the president
His veto message
renehed the senate about three o’clock
WASHING &
joy a slyiilar cespe:
the honee
tu
‘
ten days apo,
|
vetterday, accompanied by an opinion
Wickersh:m.
the Attor-
Ma findings, the President
presse} the belief that the measure
‘ \ arly
Traut Attorney-General
Nanings Vids decision
upon
+-General’s
Wis unconstitutional because
save the states the right to inter-
te wlth interstate commerce. Nei-
Sher agreed with
Senate nor house
Wiekersham or Taft.
Methodist Episcopal,
PORE od Rollins, pastor. The usual
‘erviees for Sunday next. The Sun-
school meets at 10 o'clock sharp.
There Is a place for “veryone in this
large and well graded school, Strang-
"Ss Cordially welcomed,
.The Epworth League holds its de-
his
Sotional Mecting at 6:40 o'clock. All
Ng people are cordially invite
‘tend,
d to
Public Worship at 11 m. and
Oop, The pastor will speak at!
4 services, There will be special |
both morning
|
}
{
it {
mi,
ut
"sic and evening,
Usefal-
special
og
‘orning theme, Spiritual
At the evening hour a
tress to youny men,
The publie fs cordially invited to
I services of the church,
TOR SALEK 100,000 Cuthbert rasp-
Derry plants, $4 per $1,000, IF. oO.
Wash. A, i.
Sanuer, Wash, 1-15-5td
Suniner,
Stwi
|
|
Z
tte Tim eg
nas
K rey}:
brin;
Hart, | efforts w
| Try a Cazotte-Times want ad.
u
“A movement is now on fvot look-
ing the
Tumphrey brothers, former residents
to executive clemency for
of Polk county, doomed to death by
the noose at Salem for the murder of |
Mrs. Eliza Griffith near VPhilomath
the stunmer of 19] 1,” says the Polk}
County Observer, editorially, and |
continues: “Petitions are being eir- |
culated in localities where the nen |
have formerly lived, and it ig prob-
able that the people of Dallas and
vicinity, who knew the men will be.;
asked to sign such appeals. The Op-!
server is of the opinion that these |
men should not be hanged for the |
crime, and this belief not based!
Whally upon our disapproval of cap-
ital punishment, but because, trom |
what we can learn, there is grave |
doubt that the men are guilty,
is
Those }
of}
j hig |
united in
suiltless
them. |
whe knew Heian 7} Thile r ideuts
3 COUNLY, are practically
Opinion that
of the erime charged agaiuss
They declare that the men do not
possess enough nerve, oy sense to
commit such a crime and cover all|
traces so completely and so cunning- |}
ly as the murderer did in thist ease.
While living here they were known
as harmless, ignorant, uncultivated
individuals, and the worst that could
be said of them was that they were
shiftless and ambitionless, When the
first news of their alleged “confes-
sion” was received here, It was dis-
credited by those who knew the men
best, and it hag never been accepted
as truthful even to this day. It is
siid that the Humphreys vould have
been made to Say anything under}
proper conditions, and few have pes
lieved their story of the Philomath
niurder, or the many other crimes
which they’ are said to have ‘con- |
fessed.’ At any rate there is a large
element of doubt in the whole affair,
and therein lies the principal reason
for the present move for clemency.
they. sre
Legalized Murder,
“All of which serves to once more
emphasize and bring close to home, |
the unjus
legalized murder. Here ure two ute}
terly ambitionless individuals, h
less, unassuming men who might ale |
most be placed in the feeble-minded |
class, men whom those who kuow
them best are believed to be abso- |
lutely incapable of committing such
a crime as that of which they have |
been convicted, yet they stand today |
in the shadow of the gallows and,
unless the efforts for clemency shall
prevail, their lifeless bodies will soon
be swinging at the end of a
Their conviction was lurgely the re-
that might have |
at all. Men of
possessed by the
under the clever manip-
of the reward-hunting ‘de-
tectice’ schooled in such methods,
arm. |
rope.
sult of a ‘confession’
been uo ‘confession
the class of mind
accused can,
ulation
he
Wade to say almost anything without
the consequences of their
the truth of Whiut they sre
This is a slender thread upon
to drive two men to the gal-
yet it is the heritage of the Je-
galized murder system). How much
more humane, how much more en-
atistying to all con-
life sentence in
the penitentiary, They he
guilty, but the probabilities are that
they are not, and it is hoped that rhe
hich will be to
them from the noose WIT] be suceess-
frh.t!
realizing
aels or
fatying,
which
lows,
lightened and 8
cerned, would be a
may
nade save
7,
tness and the paganism of |
} reduce expenses by hereafter
Once again hag high-priced jiead-
sear been given a
in little old Curvallis,
Jead of the Tuesday
ing Club, the ]
cial Club Auxiliary gathered
¢lub rooms yesterday and in a season
of oratory literally jumped on,
lastingly swatted, eternally
basted and otherwise m
“high cost of living”
Plies to the price of
gear. While the ladies did not pass
any resolutions that might be broken
on the morrow, they did
themselves very energetically,
cidedly to the point,
record as violent ly
of paying outrageons
Following
Afternoon fe:
at the
ever
lam-
altreated the
feminine head-
express
de-
and
went on
prices for
head
nent hecessary to mect {
Dai Washi
cussed prices, thought $7.00
to buy a hat for any-
body, and if it would not do so, the
ladies could revert to the old euston,
not wholly extant even now,
throwing an apron over the head.
Finally, no exact limit was set on the
price that might be paid by Auxiliary
members, jut the high-falutin figure
was talked into the background
Siven a reserved Seat far in the
The ladies say they me
Veculiarly constructed
he Mectat
of ie an Ti ladies
oucht
800d enough
ol
and
rear,
un business,
A Fine Meeting,
At Yesterday's of
Auxiliary twenty new Members were
voted in. A specially enjoyable fea-
ture of the program was a talk on
“Parcel Post’ by Postmaster B. W.
Johnson, Musical numbers greatly
mecting
the |
solar plexus bl}: wf
adies of the Commer-
|
insofar as it ap- |
}
of the}
ciption
Genev ely
day the
ing sine
the time
effect.
“This
de, ane
for ¢]
thon,
| torney (;
Repreges
| leawrvers
f the An
Opposed to the idea i
the;
adorn |
|
|
i
| Portherny sy
some of the y
work, It
requisite forts
aun]
is not
in
Will be here on tin
What Sonsti
“The Constltutic
thirds of each hou >
a quorum, but a sn
meet, adjourn
compel the atiendar
This igs att
fron
bers,’
than a quorum ean
i
|
|
enjoyed were furnished by Mrs. Mark |
Rickard and Miss Patterson. At the
psychological moment dainty refresh-
ments were served. The Ladies Aux-
iliary is alive active, and now
Started on a campaign of progress
that will bear fruit.
and
Ri a ee a
oh fe oh
ye
ye
%
tle so ole ake oe ate
THOSE $7.00 HATS,
ede de efe ote oe oe oe ot
The cost of high living
vallis to the extent that :
the society fair sex. now to
sreatly
Propose
limiting their fund for millinery,
They will pay no more than $7
a hat. Why the seven,
dollar piece would he
over the counter.— Salem Statesman.
Corvallis women have put
on hats costing more th
lars. How about hat ping more th
a foot long ?— Rugene Register,
an seven doj-
WASHINGTON, March 1.-—There
is one government official in’ Wash-}
ington not worrying’ over his job be.
cause there will be a change in ads
mintstrations on March 4. ‘This mica
is William (“Big Bill) Flynn, chief
of the seeret: service,
lynn safe for
Kirst, because the moment he tg fired,
thre
Ix many reasons,
or any of other aesiptant ehtbots
in
i
|
H
|
{
|
has hit Cor-! them
1 number of } getting
'
|
for} shal]
|
When a five-} three doll
hindier to pass !
H
j
the ban) gor per diem
an! SS amen,
i the
; Country
1 Service
even adjourn sine ¢
“The
act shall take erfeet
from the end of the
Constitution
“
the same shall hay
cept in cases
emergeney
of e
be
Nn tite
“The twenty-seye
ft
Wi
cannot adjourn, and
ment the laws it: bb.
£0 into effect,
Tuesday would put}
shall
preamble or j
not adjourned,
until Tuesday,
Ninet
* i sone time in the es
“Some of the
a
Constitutionsils
The
expressed doubt
iG
NO-On© tras
¥ sity
Into service wi
piid for it.
is exploded by aneth:
constitution
compensation,
thf pre
This se
slum
receive ‘a
ars. hk
mencement of
shall not
kate one hundred und
the
sun exceer!
allowan:
Session.’ ’’
Service, the
will
rash, W
crook;
begin
O°.
once of chier
he
in the see
ii h
th
very long,
en
i day, because his record
hend of the secret sy
Ty made his na
bas an amazin
oF the comnterfeiters, be
“tine ut
Knows the records, ages,
and those
tions of all the country
crooks
NOTICE TO TRESP
Notice hereby | ply
trespassers on my far:
owned by J. Wo Ingle) w
If you ®eant gr:
mission to bury. caress
find moe at 463 Adame St
Richey
is
ented,
Wily “
eke? me sill :
peers
ee
oo,
(es
Sypeanoneypany! 2:
;
Dy A
Asay Be
¥
ane sinc ae tebe Maree Es ke
ti we
pigix Ree a,
fe.
at
eas
ee od seid sos
Suey
HUMPHREY, Charles & George,
sheriff of Benton County, M. P.
Burnett was the logical man .to
substitute for the incumbent peace officer
while the latter was away heading a posse
in search of a fugitive from the state
prison. '
Thus within half an hour after receiv-
ing the phone message from the sheriff’s
office in Corvallis, Ore., Burnett arrived
in the peaceful community of Philomath
to investigate the disappearance of Eliza
Griffith and the apparent burglary of her
residence. It was shortly after 10 a.m.
on Saturday, the third of June.
John Franklin and J..S. Henkle had
entered Mrs. Griffith’s dwelling about
an hour earlier, soon after the former’s
wife reported that Eliza was not at home
and the house was topsy-turvy.
“The place is just like we found it,”
Henkle assured Burnett. “Eliza was here
last. night. Nancy Franklin talked with
her on the phone about an hour after
supper. But she’s nowhere around today.
And the house—well, you'll soon see for
yourself.” ; .
The Griffith homestead was located a
mile or more outside the village. Other
dwellings were scattered along the narrow
roadway off which it stood, buf none was
nearer than a quarter of a mile. In the
back, scarcely 100 yards distant, Rock
Creek tumbled noisily through a rugged
little gorge. oo
The place had been ransacked, both
upstairs and down, and it was obvious a
struggle had taken place.in the living
room on the first floor. A chair lay over-
turned upon the rug and fragments of a
broken vase were scattered about. A
blanket had been half dragged from a
couch and small hooked throw rugs had
been scuffed into heaps near the walls.
Burnett found a white handkerchief on
the floor. Two opposite corners had been
twisted, apparently in a knot, and the
te of the linen square was stained with
lood.
A cheritt of HE WAS no longer
“Used maybe to bandage a: wound,” .
Henkle guessed.
“No,” the former sheriff replied. “More
likely it was stuffed into somebody’s mouth
as a gag. And that somebody must’ve been
By Frank War
whites, hanged Oregon (Benton) on 3=22-1913 7 ;
Mrs. Griffith. Where could she be?”
Franklin shrugged. “We looked every-
where we could think of. You believe the
burglars killed her ?”
“Tt looks that way,” Burnett nodded.
“But why they’d hide the body is beyond
me” >
His eyes roved slowly over the room,
taking. in every detail. He reached under
the couch, and withdrew a common
kitchen butcher knife. Its blade was un-
stained. “It could be,” he remarked, “that
she tried to defend herself with this, and
it was kicked away under the sofa.”’ He
‘glanced out the parlor window. “I under-
stand men from the village are out looking
for her. That must be them coming back
now. Let’s hear what they’ve got to say.”
George Humphrey, another neighbor
and seemingly the leader of the neighbor-
hood searching party, stepped forward as
the ex-sheriff appeared on the porch. “No
sign of Eliza anywhere,” he reported.
“What’'ll we do now 2?”
“Keep looking,’ Burnett said crisply.
“She couldn’t have disappeared into thin
air. We’ll make a systematic hunt. Frank-
lin and Henkle will take groups along both
sides of Rock Creek. Humphrey, you
comb the north end of the homestead with
the men you want. Your brother Charlie
can lead another bunch down the south
part. Watch closely for any freshly dug
earth. And don’t pass up brush or any
-kind of debris. It might cover a grave.”
- All four of the leaders he named were
expert woodsmen. For that matter, most
of the men making up-the posse were at
home in the wilderness or on the trail.
Burnett knew he .could safely leave the
search in their hands. He reentered the
_residence of the missing 53-year-old
widow and went over the entire place
again, but without finding a single new
clue. He was just ready to leave when two
county officials arrived. - ,
They were District Attorney Arthur
Clarke, and his deputy, William S. Mc-
'“Fadden, a former judge.. Burnett outlined
the .case and showed them the blood-
stained handkerchief and the butcher
knife.
“The lock’on the front door is broken,”
he added. “It was rather flimsy.”
INSIDE DETECTIVE, Mafch, 19))6._
“Do the neighbors suspect. anyone?’
Clarke asked.
“Apparently -not,” Burnett replied.
“Mrs. Griffith has lived alone here ever
since the youngest of her children left
honie some years ago. The neighbors say
she didn’t have any enemies.”
“We'd better be on the lookout for any
strangers in this neighborhood,” Clarke
said.
HE THREE investigators set out to
join the searching parties. The hunt
continued for two hours’ without avail.
Then a man came crashing through the
woods. It was Franklin. :
“We've found the body!” he panted.
“Where?” Burnett asked.
“In Henkle’s mill pond on Rock Creek !”
The searchers hurried down the long
slope, following a logging road that led
to Henkle’s saw mill. At the mill pond,
a quarter of a mile from the Griffith
house, they stood staring at the body in
the water.
The woman lay face downward in tiie
\
3 mare va
“| HAVE NEWS FOR you.” District At-
torney Arthur Clarke told his colleagues.
“Mrs. Griffith was dead when put in the
pond—strangled, but not with the rope.”
—
GRIFFITH SAT IN THE BANK, RECEIVING THE MONEY FOR HER DWELLING
Mee
¢
~ explained.
_GEORGE, ONE OF two brothers arrested
-.for the crime. was neatly tricked in-
_to admitting guilty knowledge of it.
‘He tried to blame the other _ suspect.
shallow water, ‘with her arms‘ doubled
under her. She was fully clothed. Not far
from the body .was a length of rope. ~
Two men waded out and hauled the
corpse ashore, while a third recovered the
rope. It-was about four feet long with
a slip-knot at one end. Franklin identi-
fied it as an old halter that had long
hung in a shed adjoining _ the widow’s
house. |
Examining the bedy, neither Burnett
nor the two county officials could detect
anything like a wound. However, there
were bruises on the throat and slight
‘abrasions on the back of the ear lobes.
“So she’ was hanged!” Clarke ex-
‘claimed. “Doubtless with this.” He held
up the old halter.
Burnett was deeply perpiexed. “I can’t
figure this thing out,” he muttered. “Tf the
motive was robbery,. why did the robber
kill his victim in such a brutal fashion ?”
. “It begins to look more like revenge,”
McFadden commenied. “Perhaps the
murderer ransacked the house just to
throw us off the track.”
The body was taken to Corvallis, where
. the county coroner arranged for an au- -
topsy to be performed by Dr. C. H. Newth.
~ Meanwhile Burnett and McFadden
questioned the various neighbors of the
victim, among them Nancy Franklin.
“T talked with Eliza last night,” she
“She was all right then, not
the least bit worried.”
“What time was this?” Burnett asked.
“About 8 o’clock. We were planning a
church social, and I told her I would drop
in this morning to talk over the plans. I
went to her house right after breakfast,
and the
door was open. I called to her, but she
didn’t answer. I stepped inside. I almost
fainted when I saw that living room. I
ran to Henkle’s place and told Susan. She
_ got her husband, who telephoned ‘you.”
“Did Mrs. Griffith ever have trouble
with anyone ?” McFadden inquired.
“Qh, no, not Eliza! Why, she was the
most beloved woman in this district. It
couldn’t have beeri anyone around here—
she didn’t have an enemy in the entire
22 community !”
first thing I noticed was that the :
BUT CHARLES WAS stubborn. The in-
vestigators could get nothing out of.
him. Then the first brother confessed
and both men went to the gallows.
Burnett and McFadden received the
same character report. from the - other
neighbors. Small and extremely attrac-
tive’ for her age, the widow had been
respected by everyone, it appeared. An
‘active church worker, she had been noted
. for her good deeds.
The indignation of the community was
aroused by the slaying, and there was
widespread talk of lynching the killer with
the same rope that had taken the widow’s
life. The investigators feared that: mob
‘ vengeance might fall upon some innocent
person; this dread added to the urgency
with which they already were working.
Significantly, no one in, the entire com-
munity was suspected of the crime. Every-
body seemed to feel that the murderer must
be a stranger. ~
However, the officers questioned every
person living in the vicinity of the Griffith
homestead before clearing all the neigh-
bors from suspicion. In all their question-
ing they uncovered only a single clue to
the slaying.
This was provided by Susan Henkle, the.
murdered woman’s closest friend. She
recalled that on one occasion, several
weeks earlier, Eliza Griffith had confessed |
that she was lonely, now that her children
had grown up and left home, and that she
was afraid of living alone.
“Afraid ?” Burnett repeated.
person ?”
“T don’t know,” Mrs. Henkle veplicg:
“That was my impression, but she changed
the subject without explaining what had
aroused her fears. _She seemed upset,
though, and she said she was going to sell
her place and move to town.
that a house in the village would be better
for her.” .
“Haven’t you any idea whom | she
feared?” McFadden urged.
“Not the slightest, except that I sort of
felt she was afraid of some man. Who it
could be, I can’t imagine. But she said
nothing more about it, and so-I put her
fear down to the natural loneliness of a
woman who lives alone.” :
After. talking with Mrs. Henkle, the
officers returned to Corvallis and conferred
with the district attorney.
“Of some
I agreed ©
WILLIAM S. McFadden, assistant prose-
cutor, arraigned a traveling dentis
for the slaying. but the case wouldn’t
hold water when a witness backed down. .
“I have news -for you,”
nounced. “Dr. Newth tells me that there
was no water in the. victim’s lungs, and
_that she was dead when thrown into the
pond. She died of strangulation.”
'“That’s what we expected,” ” Burnett
- remarked.
“Yes, but that’s not all. It wasn’t the
rope that strangled her—she was” throttled .
by the killer’s hands.”
“Good Lord!” Burnett exclaimed.
aa you see,” the district attorney went :
“the motive probably was more than
Tee robbery.”
- “But that rope must have had sonieine
to do with the crime,” the ex-sheriff ob-
jected.
“Tt did,” Clarke told him. “There? 5 no
_ question but that the slip-knot was around
her neck, and that it caused the abrasions
behind her ears. But. there are bruises
that could only have been made by fingers
at her throat. And very steHe fingers at.
that.”
“Then,” Burnett said anh “that ex-
plains the blood on the handkerchief,
doesn’t it?? >
Clarke nodded. “Dr. Newth found that
her throat had been ruptured from the -:
tremendous pressure of the killer’s hands
He must have gagged her with the hand-
kerchief to cut off her. screams, and later _
choked her to death.”
“Heaven help the killer if he’s. discov-’
ered !”.
people around Philomath will string him
up to the nearest tree.” ‘
McFadden exclaimed. “Those
The investigators made little headway
during the next 36 hours, and by the time _
Sheriff W. A. Gellatly returned, two days _
after the murdet had been discovered, the
authorities were admittedly in a Send de sac
barren of leads.
“Tt seems clear that the slayer is a ire
man, or a very powerful one,” Gellatly
agreed. “The autopsy shows that, and
so does the fact that the body was carried
a quarter of a mile and fhrown into the
mill pond.”
“That much is obvious,” Cliske said
‘“But why did the murderer go to all tha
trouble? The water was only three fee
deep. Did he (Continued on page 46)
Clarke an-
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Frightened Widow
~ (Continued from page 28)
think it would hide the body? And what
about that rope? It had been tied around
her neck, yet he Strangled her with his
hands.”
Gellatly sighed. “Possibly the murderer
didn’t know how shallow the pond was. In
that case he must be a stranger.”
“What about the escaped robber you cap-
tured?” McFadden demanded.
“He was miles away from.Philomath at
the time of the murder, hiding out in an
are taking him back to Salem tomorrow.”
That afternoon a resident of Philomath
informed Gellatly that he had seen a tramp
gathering firewood along Rock Creek two
days before the slaying.
* The sheriff launched a search for the *sus-
pect, who was located near Corvallis. The
Rock Creek, but he asserted that he had
come to Corvallis a full day before the crime
was committed. °
A careful checkup on his story produced
reliable witnesses who substantiated his alibi,
and the suspect was cleared.
The next lead of importance offered a
probable clue to the motive for the slaying.
A Mrs. Calvery, an intimate friend of the
victim, telephoned the district attorney.
“Eliza sold her home for a considerable
sum of money,” she reported. “This was
only a day or so before she was killed.”
This was news to Clarke. He hastened to
the local bank, where he verified the report.
The deal had been completed on June 1, he
learned—only one day before Eliza Griffith
was murdered and her house ransacked !
A real estate investor in Corvallis had
bought the homestead for $3,500, and had
made a cash payment of $1,000. The money
was in the bank, deposited in Mrs. Griffith’s
account. ;
Clarke sought out the purchaser, who ex-
plained that the deal had been kept as secret
“as possible.
“For some reason,” the man _ told him,
“Mrs. Griffith didn’t want news of the trans-
action to leak out until she was ready to
move. She was planning to buy a large
house here in town, with the idea of keeping
boarders. I agreed to let her remain on
her old property until she could find a suit-
able house for sale.” :
“Did she say why she wanted the deal
held secret?” Clarke inquired.
“No, and I didn’t ask her.”
BUT CLARKE SUSPECTED a reason,
which he explained to Sheriff Gellatly.
“I think you're right,” Gellatly said. “The
killer turned that house into a shambles in
the search for loot, so he must have believed
she had something very valuable hidden
there.”
“Yes,” Clarke replied, “and I think it was
her fear of just such a thing that had led
her to try to keep the deal from becoming
known. The murderer must have been in a
position to find out that the. sale had been
concluded, but he wasn’t aware that she had
left the $1,000 in the bank.”
Gellatly went to the home of Mrs. Calvery,
where he learned that the widow had con-
fided the news in her immediately after re-
ceiving the down payment.
“She wanted me to help her find a house
here in Corvallis,” the woman explained. “She
needed a large place, because she intended to
earn her living by accommodating lodgers.
I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what she
had done.”
“Did she ever tell you that she was afraid
of someone ?”
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“Why, no. Come to think of it, though,
!
ay
The minister’s startling statement sent
Geiiatly racing back to Rock Creek to ask
about the dentist. Within an hour he had
learned from the neighbors that the den-
tist had visited Eliza on several occasions,
presumably to perform dental work. The
last time he was known to have been
there was a few days before the killing.
This convinced the sheriff that the
dentist was the mysterious man of whom
Eliza had been afraid. He might have
attempted to become romantic with her
and she had repulsed him. In a fit of
anger he could have strangled her,
trussed up her body with the rope he
must have previously seen on the back
porch, and then taken the victim to Rock
Creek, hoping she wouldn’t be found until
he was many miles away.
And, when Gellatly went to King’s
Valley and found that the dentist had
hastily departed on the day the body was
found, the case seemed near solution.
HE SHERIFF presented all his evi-
dence to District Attorney Clarke and
the latter swore out a warrant for the
dentist’s arrest. Several days later the
man was located in a town some miles
from Corvallis and brought to Clarke’s
office.
The dentist stoutly denied killing Eliza
Griffith. He denied having seen her for
a week prior to her death. He admitted
being in her home several times doing
dental work but insisted that that was the
extent of his interest. As for the incident
at the minister’s home, he said he was
only having fun at his host’s expense,
claiming he had put on an act to amuse
the minister, never dreaming he would
take the thing seriously.
But Clarke and Gellatly weren’t con-
vinced and they demanded an accounting
of his activities between 9 and 12 on
the night of the killing. The dentist was
silent for several minutes. Finally he
said, “I don’t remember where I was
that night. I move around a lot and dates
don’t mean anything to me. But I swear
1 wasn’t anywhere near Mrs. Griffith’s
place.”
Through several hours of questioning,
the dentist stuck to his story. But the
officials were convinced of his guilt, not
only because of the minister’s statement
but because of the suspect’s seemingly
evasive answers.
A few days later he was taken into
Justice Court for a preliminary hearing
in what appeared to be an open-and-shut
case. With supreme confidence Deputy
District Attorney W. S. McFadden called
the rural minister to the stand.
To everyone’s surprise the minister re-
fused to repeat the statements he had
made in the sheriff’s office. McFadden’s
questions were answered with vague
phrases such as “I don’t remember”—
“I’m not sure’—“I guess the man was
just joking.”
The dentist and his attorney sat
smiling and when McFadden gave up the
questioning as useless, the defense coun-
se] moved that his client be dismissed for
lack of evidence. There was nothing for
the judge to do but grant the motion.
As time went by, Gellatly and Burnett
were unable to find another lead,
although they never once let the investi-
40
gation drop. The sheriff, like all good
law enforcement officers, knew that
somewhere there was an overlooked bit
of evidence that could solve the case.
Since all the residents in the Rock
Creek community had been thoroughly
questioned several times, Gellatly turned
to the nearby town of Philomath as the
last chance for new evidence. He first
went to the office of Dr. Newth, the
coroner’s physician in the case, and asked
to see a copy of his report, since the sher-
iff hadn’t received one.
It contained only one thing that in-
terested him—something he had _ not
known before: the middle fingernail of
Eliza’s left hand had been torn as though
she had scratched something with all her
strength.
LTHOUGH the sheriff hadn’t noticed
anyone in the Rock Creek region
with deep scratches, he was determined
to follow it through. And his persistence
paid off several hours later when he
talked with the proprietor of a Philo-
math grain and feed store.
It seemed that on the day after Eliza’s
murder, George Humphrys, a middle-
aged bachelor living about a mile from
the Griffith place, had come into the
store for supplies and the proprietor had
noticed deep scratches on his right cheek
and neck. When the storekeeper asked
about them, Humphrys explained he had
got into a bramble bush the day before.
“But,” the storekeeper added, “they
looked too deep and long for bramble
scratches.” He was able to pinpoint the
date by his record book, since the tran-
saction had been on a charge-account
basis.
Gellatly recalled that Humphrys had
not been around during the visits the
sheriff and Burnett had made in the
neighborhood right after the killing, but
because his younger brother, Charles, had
declared that neither of them had left
home on the night of the slaying, George
had been given an alibi. Now the sheriff
was accepting nothing as gospel, so he
drove back out to Rock Creek to inquire
a little more about George Humphrys.
He learned plenty. Three of Eliza’s
neighbors said they had observed George
loitering outside the widow’s home on
several occasions, and George had told
one farmer that Eliza was a “mighty
good looking woman and I'd like to be
her steady.” These statements were far
from incriminating, of course, and Gel-
latly realized he needed a “clincher.” It
took several hours before one of the Rock
Creek neighbors supplied it.
Around 6 o'clock on the evening of the
killing, he recalled George had come to
his house and asked to borrow $25 to
pay on the interest of the Humphrys
place mortgage. The payment was due
at the Philomath Bank next day, June
8, and George said he didn’t have the
money and might lose the farm if he
couldn’t raise the cash. The neighbor
sympathized with him but said he had
no money either.
But the important thing was that at
that time—several hours before the slay-
ing—there were no scratches on George’s
face or neck,
Although Gellatly was now convinced
that Humphrys was the killer, he was
reluctant to make an arrest without
proof that would stand up in court. The
exoneration of the traveling dentist was
fresh in his mind and he was determined
not to jump at any more conclusions.
So he hurried back to Philomath and
questioned the cashier at the bank. Yes,
George Humphrys had paid the mortgage
interest on June 3 (the morning after
the murder), and yes, the banker also
recalled that the farmer had deep
scratches on his face and neck. That
was enough to send Gellatly to the Hum-
phrys farm to question George first-
hand.
Gellatly was due for a surprise. The
brothers had sold their place some weeks
before and moved out. The new owner
told the sheriff which real estate man
handled the transaction and once again
the sheriff hurried to Philomath.
“The Humphrys brothers seemed to be
in a big hurry to sell their place,” the
agent said. “They got only $1,500 above
the mortgage for it, and it was easily
worth twice that much. I told them it
was a poor deal, but they said they want-
ed to move.” Although he was unable to
say where they had gone, he thought it
was somewhere in the northern part of
the state.
Gellatly talked over the situation with
District Attorney Clarke and they de-
cided to hire two prominent private de-
tectives in Portland to locate the missing
brothers. A week later the investigators
located George on a farm near Hillsboro.
Charles, however, was not around and
his brother said he didn’t know his
whereabouts.
George was taken to the Washington
County Courthouse in Hillsboro and
Prosecutor Clarke was notified of his
arrest, Clarke hurried there to question
the suspect. George denied having any-
thing to do with Eliza Griffith’s death.
He denied ever having any designs on
her. He claimed that he and Charles had
left Rock Creek to get a bigger farm.
“How about those scratches on your
face and neck right after Mrs. Griffith
was killed?” asked the district attorney.
“Brambles don’t scratch that deep. And
we can prove you didn’t have them a few
hours before the killing.”
The suspect became silent and Clark
continued: “And where did you get the
money to pay the interest on your mort-
gage? You didn’t have it the afternoon
of Mrs. Griffith’s death, yet the next
morning you paid it, Everybody in Rock
Creek knew she always kept cash in the
house, but there wasn’t any there after
she was killed.”
ie TOOK several hours of questioning,
but finally George admitted killing
Eliza. He said he had gone to her house
to borrow the money, thinking she was &
good friend and would help him. Yet
wher she came to the door, she refused
to let him in. This angered him, he said,
and he forced his way into the front
room.
He assured her that he only wanted 4
$25 loan, but she said he was there to
force his attentions on her and she or-
dered him out. He claimed he tried to
reason with her, but she ran into the
kitchen, got a butcher knife and started
after him. When he tried to take it away
from her, she scratched his face and
neck. He then choked her until she
dropped the knife and slumped to the
floor.
“J didn’t intend to rob her,” Humphrys
declared. “I wouldn’t rob a woman, but
when I found I had killed her, the money
wouldn’t do her any good and I might
as well have it. I found $28 and took it.
I got the halter rope from the back porch
and tied Mrs. Griffith up and carried
her to Rock Creek. I put her in there so
she woudn’t be found for a while.”
He said his brother Charles had noth-
ing to do with the crime and didn’t even
know George had gone out the night of
the killing. But the district attorney
wanted to make sure, so he requested
Sheriff George Hancock of Washington
County to look for the brother, who soon
was found at nearby Banks and brought
to Hillsboro.
Charles showed surprise when he saw
Clarke in the sheriff’s office. The at-
torney told him he was still working on
the Griffith case and was double-check-
ing alibis. No mention was made of
George’s arrest.
Charles calmly repeated his earlier
statement that neither he nor George had
left their house on the night in question,
going to bed around 9:30 and getting up
at 6 o’clock the next morning.
“But one of you might have got up and
left the house without the other know-
ing it,” Clarke remarked.
Charles shook his head emphatically.
They shared the same bed and both were
light sleepers. Neither could have left
without awakening the other, he said.
This was enough to convince the attor-
ney that the alibi was false. But there
was another reason why he felt that
Charles was involved in the crime. It
seemed highly improbable that one man
had carried Eliza’s body a quarter of a
mile before putting it in Rock Creek. It
would have been a tremendous load for
one person and there just didn’t seem
to be any reason why anybody would
have undertaken it alone.
Certain now that Charles had guilty
knowledge of the crime, Clarke barraged
him with questions that finally caused
the brother to change his story. It was
the same as that told by George, except
that Charles had gone with him because
George knew that Eliza would never let
him in alone. Even then she tried to
prevent the pair from entering, which
they did by force.
Charles admitted that when the widow
tried to drive them out by wielding a
butcher knife, he too, had struggled with
her to get the weapon away. He said both
he and George had choked her to make
her let go of the knife.
After making signed statements be-
fore Clarke, Sheriff Hancock and Wash-
ington County District Attorney E. B.
Tongue, the brothers were taken to Cor-
vallis and charged with first-degree mur-
der. Next day, George tried to commit
suicide by beating his head against the
bars of his cell window. But Sheriff
Gellatly found him in time to get a doc-
tor and prevent serious consequences.
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On March 22, the Benton County
Grand Jury indicted the pair as charged,
and on the following day they pled not
guilty after hiring an attorney.
At their trial, which filled the pictur-
esque courthouse to overflowing, their
lawyer attempted to have their signed
statement of guilt declared inadmissable,
charging that Prosecutor Clarke and
the Washington County officials had
“trumped up” the confessions and forced
the brothers to sign them after using
third-degree methods. Judge J. W. Ham-
ilton, however, ruled that the statements
could be used, since they had been wit-
nessed by competent officials.
After the confessions had been read,
Prosecutor Clarke brought on witnesses
to prove that George Humphrys had
been infatuated with Eliza, that he had
resented the fact that she wouldn’t have
anything to do with him, and that his
violent temper had been responsible for
two other deaths and one attempt—all by
choking.
It was brought out by witnesses that
he had choked his stepfather to death
in 1900 during a quarrel. George had not
been prosecuted because the family doc-
tor had certified the death as “from
natural causes.”
Testimony also was introduced that in
1908 he had choked to death a neighbor-
ing farmer at Dallas during a bitter
argument. This time it was “in self-
defense.” In 1910, according to another
witness, he had attempted to kill a ranch-
er in Hayhurst Valley by choking him
during a fight.
Prosecutor Clarke told the jurors that
the strangling of Eliza Griffith fitted
into George’s pattern of violence when
angered. The younger Humphrys, the at-
torney said, was legally just as guilty
of the woman’s death because he had
aided in the strangling.
The defense counsel declared that his
clients had not been near the widow's
home on the night of the killing and were
being made scapegoats by the authorities
who, he charged, had arrested the guilty
man—the itinerant dentist—but had been
unable to convict him.
The brothers were not called to the
stand, but sat at the defense table show-
ing little emotion but watching and
listening to all that went on.
Despite their attorney’s impassioned
plea that the brothers were being tried
on the flimsiest of circumstantial evi-
dence, the jury, after only two hours of
deliberation, brought in a verdict of guilty
of first-degree murder and recommended
capital punishment.
Judge Hamilton sentenced them to be
hanged but set no date for the execution,
since defense counsel had petitioned for
an appeal.
Seven months later, the Oregon Su-
preme Court upheld the jury’s verdict
and ordered the killers executed. On
March 22, 1913, George and Charles
Humphrys plunged through the death
trap of the gallows at the State Peni-
tentiary _in Salem. _
41
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Frontier Times ‘
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@ How did the small white speck solve the
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STURR DNETROMmT iN F
LEAD LUE DETECTT VE, May, 1945
/*e
riddle of the mysterious man in the window?
HE SMREKAR household slept soundly in the ivy-covered cottage on
Fourteenth Street near Main,
in the hustling industrial center of
Oregon City, Oregon, as midnight approached on Saturday, July 11th.
Mr. and Mrs. John Smrekar, a hard-working,
God-fearing couple, oc-
cupied one of the four upstairs bedrooms; pretty, brunette Mary, sixteen,
shared another with her young sister; while the five sons, ranging down-
ward in age from fourteen, occupied the remaining two.
Suddenly the stillness was pierced by an ear-splitting scream. The
father awakened, wondering whether he actually had heard the cry or
had dreamed he heard it. Then came two sharp explosions.
As he bounded from bed, the mother
sat up, alarm written on her careworn
face.
“John, what in the world is happen-
ing?” she exclaimed.
“Sounded like gunfire,” he shouted over
his shoulder as he disappeared through
the doorway. Running down the hall,
he could hear hysterical sobbing issuing
from the daughters’ room. He entered
and switched on the lights, and then the
blood seemed to freeze in his veins.
The younger girl was sitting up in bed,
crying fitfully as she attempted to rouse
her sister, who was lying motionless be-
neath the blankets. As the stunned man
tore the covering from her, the mother
and Joe, the oldest boy, rushed into the
room. It was quickly determined that
Mary had been wounded in the chest, and
was either mortally injured or already
was dead,
“Get over to Mrs. Davis’,” the father
excitedly told the lad. “Have her eall an
ambulance and the police. Hurry.”
Patrolmen John Cooke and Ed Shaw
arrived fifteen minutes later to find the
sidewalk and front yard of the Smrekar
residence thronged with neighbors who
had been attracted by the shots. The
officers herded the chattering onlookers
off the premises.
A moment later, an ambulance drove
up and two white-clad interns alighted
with a stretcher. Cooke cleared a path
for them and léd the way up the steps,
while his partner remained behind to
question the spectators and to restrain
them from obliterating any possible clues
on the grounds.
In the living-room the men found a
matronly woman trying to comfort the
frightened youngsters. She was Mrs.
Davis, the next-door neighbor, and she
explained that she had hurried over to be
of assistance on learning from Joe what
had happened. The parents, she added,
were upstairs with Mary.
As the group headed for the stairway,
the front door opened to admit Chief of
Police Charles E. Burns, whom the desk
sergeant had notified at his home. He
joined the grim procession, which soon
reached the shooting scene..
A pitiful tableau confronted their
eyes.
The mother was holding the dark-
haired, brown-eyed girl’s head in her
lap, stroking the pale brow in an attempt
to bring back some sign of life. The father
sat rigid on the edge of the bed, his eyes
red from weeping.
Gently, the officers led the distraught
parents to their own room to question
‘the house had become quiet.
a een
BY
JERRY WALLACE
4
@ For the criminal (above), murder was
the climax of a carefully laid plan
them while the interns examined the vic-
tim. For some time the parents were too
overcome to talk coherently; but. finally
they were able to answer the investi-
gators’ queries.
The entire family had retired at ten
o’clock, they related, and, after the usual
chattering of the children had subsided,
There had
been no noise of any kind until the
scream, which had roused the father.
When he heard two reports that-sounded
like gunshots, he had rushed to his
daughters’ room. :
The younger girl, he said, told them
that Mary’s cry had awakened her and
that she had raised.up to see what the
matter was. Mary was sitting up, point-
ing to the window. The youngster turned
frightened eyes in that direction and saw
a man standing just inside the window.
He was holding a pistol.
Then came the two shots, after which
the intruder, without uttering a word,
scrambled over the sill and disappeared.
Because of the fact that the moonlight had
been at the rear of the figure, the witness
had been unable to see his facial features,
And, because of the shock of the ordeal,
the little girl could give her parents no
29
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30
description of the mysterious assailant.
Neither Smrekar nor his wife had the
slightest idea as to his identity. Mary,
they declared, was an obedient, serious-
minded daughter. She never had been
involved in any incident that might have
resulted in violence.
“She’s such a pretty girl,” the mother
sobbed, ‘‘and the boys paid her a lot of
attention. But she respected our wishes
not to go with them until she was old
enough to know her own mind.”
Questioned as to the possibility that
someone with a grudge against the father
had committed the crime for revenge, the.
parents replied they believed that that
was most improbable.
“Then,” Chief Burns told Patrolman
Cooke, “it looks like a prowler, perhaps
a nervous amateur, who shot her when
she screamed. In either case, it might be
plenty difficult to track him down unless
he left something behind that might
identify him.”
But before any search could be started
for such evidence, one of the ambulance
interns came in, “She’s dead,” he an-
nounced. “Both bullets got her in the
heart and she died instantly.”
The grief-stricken parents and the be-
wildered children were escorted to Mrs.
Davis’ home. Soon afterward, Coroner
R. L. Holman and a deputy arrived and
officially pronounced the victim dead.
They then removed the body from the
house.
The investigators conducted a careful
search of the death chamber, but failed
to discover anything of value. There were
no shells on the floor to establish the
caliber of the lethal weapon, and the gun
itself had not been left behind. ~
Chief Burns went to the open window
and focused his flashlight on the outside
wall. “The killer undoubtedly used this
trellis,” he told Cooke, throwing the beam
onto a long panel of latticework that led
from the ground to within a foot or two of
the window. “He may have left foot-
prints down there,” he added hopefully.
The officers hastened outdoors.and were
joined by Patrolman Shaw, who had
been mingling with the neighbors. He
reported that none of them had seen any-
one fleeing the scene, é
The Chief led the way to the bottom
of the trellis and anxiously examined the
ground while his assistants held their
torches on the area. It soon was de-
termined, however, that the thick grass
had not held any footprints. Nor could
the men find anything else that appeared
to have a bearing on the case.
“He must’ve got away clean,” Cooke_
remarked. ‘‘Without any kind of descrip-
tion to go on, we haven’t much chance
to head him off.” ‘
Burns nodded, and said, ‘‘We’ve got to
have something to start with. Maybe
sae
¢ Sheriff Beatie
headed and wore a sweater, the color of
which had not been discernible. ‘He had
dark hair,” the witness added, “and I saw
enough of his face to tell I didn’t know
him.” However, he was unable to supply
a detailed description of the youth, al-
though he thought he would recognize
him again.
“Tf he headed south,” commented the
Chief, “he probably was making for the
raikroad tracks under the Twelfth Street
bridge.
at once.” To the patrolman he said,
“While I’m gone, you fellows split up and
cover both sides of the street. Maybe
you can find somebody else who saw
him.”
Hunting up the nearest telephone, he
called Headquarters, gave the desk ser-
geant the fugitive’s meager description,
and instructed him to send out every
available officer to comb the railroad
area. ‘And you’d better call Portland
and get the bloodhounds,” he concluded.
Burns_cradled the receiver long enough
to break the connection, and then he put
in a.call to the district office of the South-
ern Pacific Railroad Company in Port-
land, the state’s metropolis fifteen miles
north. He was promptly assured that all
somebody down the street can help’us.” * trains,.both passenger. and freight, that
They began a door-by-door tour of the
block and finally hit pay-dirt at the home
of Dr. George Hoeye, a short distance
from the Smrekar cottage. He told them
that, after hearing the shots, he had got
out of bed and gone to the window, which
faced the street. Looking out, he saw a
young man racing south on Main,
The arc light permitted the physician
to get a fairly good lock at the runner,
who was tall and slender. He was bare-
had passed through Oregon City from
.midnight on, would be halted and
searched for anyone resembling the killer.
When this call had been completed, he
phoned Clackamas County Sheriff Robert
Beatie at his home, apprised him of the
situation, and requested that he detail his
deputies to patrol the area surrounding
the town for some trace of the culprit.
Beatie promised to tackle the job at once.
With this. dragnet laid out, the Chief
points to spot : =
T’ll have a squad get over there ~
started back toward the shooting scene,
but a half-block from there he was halted
by a whistle from Cooke, who was stand-
ing on the porch of a house across the
street. Burns hurried over to see what
his aide had turned up that interested
him.
“This woman,” the patrolman said, in-
dicating a middle-aged matron behind the
screened door, “told me something’ that
might fit in.’ He gestured for her *to
repeat the story.
She related that, on the previous after-
noon, a youth in his early twenties—ob-
viously a transient—had come to her back
door and asked for something to eat. She
fixed him a sandwich and took it outside.
After consuming it, he asked for a drink
of water. As she started into the house
to comply, he followed her.
“T managed to get into the kitchen and
lock the door before he could get in,” she
continued. “He swore at me and threat-
.ened to break it in if I didn’t unlock it.
But after a minute or so he went away.
I don’t mind saying I was pretty badly
frightened.”
Pressed for details of the tramp’s ap-
pearance, she said that he wore a blue
sweater and denim trousers and was
bareheaded. He had dark hair and a
swarthy complexion.
“Looks like a good lead,” declared the
Chief. “This fellow might have spotted
Mary Smrekar during his tour of the
neighborhood and decided to attack her
in her bedroom. Cooke, you get Shaw
and go down to the hobo jungle and look
for this man. I’m going to the station
to wait for the bloodhounds.”
An hour later, Detective Andy Vaughn
arrived from Portland with two man-
hunting
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Detective Parker; He had
to find a.carpenter through
a newspaper advertisement
x
“Tt looks like that’s something we’re
going to have to find out. Somebody
swung that ax with a vengeance. One
blow would have killed her, yet she was
hit a dozen times or more.”
Friese broke in to ask Shell: “You
were sleeping at the time Mrs. Litchfield
was killed. You didn’t hear her cry
out?”
“J didn’t hear a thing,” Shell declared.
“J didn’t know anything was wrong until
I happened to come out to the wood-
shed.” ; :
Warren pursed his lips in thought for
several seconds before he spoke to Shell.
“Harold,” he said, “we've known you
for quite awhile. I know you want to do
what is right, so I’m going to ask you a
favor.”
“Sure,” Shell said.
“You don’t have to comply unless you
want to and understand that I’m not
placing you under arrest, or even under
suspicion. It’s just. that you were the
only person around—”
“What do you want?” Shell asked.
“J want to go through your room and
take all of your clothes to Head-
quarters.”
“What for?”
“To have them checked for blood-
stains.”
“You think I killed Mrs. Litchfield?”
Shell cried in shock. ‘
“No,” Warren said. “I just want to
prove you did not kill her. Whoever did
kill her must have been spattered with
blood. If we can eliminate you, then
we can go on to the next phase of the
investigation. You appreciate our
Position, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Shell said.
my clothes. You can have anything
you want. I didn't kill her and I’d like
to see you catch whoever did. Mrs.
Litchfield was a mighty sweet little old
woman.”
Detective Houser went with Shell to
gather the clothing.
“You can have
ETECTIVE MASON came out of the
house. ‘I’ve finished with the pic-
tures and dusting the bathroom and
kitchen,” he told Warren. “I've picked
up a mess of prints, but it will take quite
awhile to identify them. I suppose most
of them belong to Mrs. Litchfield and
Shell.”
“We can get both of their prints and
eliminate those that belong to them.”
It still won’t mean those that are left
The "knocker and sticker" and,
above, his bloodstained clothes
were made by the killer,” Mason
pointed out. “I suppose 4 number of
people who were friends of Mrs. Litch-
field had been in the kitchen and bath-
room.”
“How about: comparing them with
criminal records? Maybe the FBI—”
Mason shook his head. “It takes a
complete set to make a comparison.
That’s the way they're classified. Of
course, if we get a certain suspect, that’s
different. I could compare whatever we
have with his prints.”
“Do what you can,” Warren said.
“and we'll want the pictures first.
Sometimes, when you study them later
you can see more than you did while
you were right at the scene.”
Mason went back to Headquarters.
Warren turned to Friese. “Some-
body’s got a rough job ahead. We'll have
to notify Claude. It won’t be pleasant
telling him his mother was slain.”
“I'll do it,” Friese volunteered. “TI
know Claude pretty well. He’s working
over at the County Employment Agency.
Maybe I’d better get right over there
before he hears it from some other
source.” :
“J think it would be best. He may
even have some ideas. If he feels up to
it, have him drop into Headquarters
after a bit and we'll have a talk.”
SHORT time later, Detective
Parker came up to the house with a
woman. After she was introduced to
Chief Warren as Mrs. Barbara Gore, the
woman exclaimed: :
“As soon as I heard Mrs. Litchfield
had been killed, I said to myself right
away I wonder what happened to that
carpenter. I told Mrs. Litchfield right
from the start not to trust him.”
“What carpenter?” Warren asked.
“The one who was going to make
some repairs to Mrs. Litchfield’s house.
She had some work to be done around
the house. Well, he was the one who
was going to do it, only he didn’t. That’s
when all the trouble started.”
Warren looked to Parker and lifted
his eyebrows.
(Continued on Page 44)
Read. it First-Im.=----
a - Case of The: Two-H eaded “Woman (Continued-from-Page36)~ OFFICIAL DETECTIVE ‘STORIES.
he had to be. It was Woodbourne Prison
where he was doing a bit for receiving
stolen goods, one to two-years. ;
Harry and I went up to talk to him.
After I listened awhile, I didn’t want
to leave at all. For this guy not only
knew something, he was willing to tell
all about it. He confirmed the hijack-
ing end of Sally’s tale. Also said while
storing the truck hé had snipped off
a few yards of material—remember the
fence complaining? He gave it to Sally.
Said he and she had been seeing each
other once in awhile.
Also he had been in the Hofbrau that
night, saw the killing. Would be willing
to testify to that for two good ~easons.
The first was that as long as Cianci was
on the loose there was always the
chance he would find out that Tony was
the fellow who gave that few yards of
silk. And Tony was firmly against any-
body being shot to death, especially
himself, since Cianci always knew
where to get hold of a gun. The second
reason was that he hoped to have his
present sentence shortened if he co-
operated. He gave us a whole slew of
names, men and women, friends of
Cianci—and some other information.
Es TOOK Harry and me another week
to sort out those names. A lot of
them had police records so you’d get
little cooperation. Yet after a lot more
questioning we knew that if we could
find a woman (one-headed) named
Edna Rausch, there Cianci would be.
For the dope we got was that the fugi-
tive had taken up with this woman,
holding out the fact that he was wanted
for homicide.
Equipped with a lot more informa-
tion, Harry Hansen went back to his
shadowy characters. After a few days,
he was very confident that shortly he
would “hear”.
For His Lost Wife—Or the Cash? (Continued
Parker explained: “The carpenter
was going to repair Mrs. Litchfield’s
house in exchange for telephone service.
He ran ads in the newspaper and she
answered the calls and gave him the
messages.”
“Only he didn’t,”.Mrs. Gore volun-
teered. ‘You can see for yourself, he
didn’t doa thing. I warned Mrs. Litch-
field right from the start that he looked
shifty-eyed and no-account. I told her
to go right ahead and sue him, or some-
thing. She told me that he swore at her
when she told him shé wasn’t going to
take the messages any more.”
ONS again Warren looked to Parker.
“Do you know who the fellow is, or
what this is all about?”
“I don’t know who he is, but we
should be able to trace him through the
"newspaper if he placed advertisements.
It seems he and Mrs. Litchfield dis-
agreed when he failed to start repair-
ing the house like he promised. ”
“It hardly seems a motive for killing,”
Warren said. Then, to Mrs. Gore: “This
carpenter wasn’t a young fellow, with
dark hair and sort of a receding hairline
along the forehead?”
“Gracious, no! He was middle-aged,
and like’I told you, he had real shifty
eyes. I don’t trust a man unless he can
look you straight in the eyes. I warned
Mrs. Litchfield about him.”
“When was this carpenter around
here last?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks.”
Warren. told Parker: “I’m going into
Headquarters. You stop by the news-
Paper office and check with the adver-
tising department and see if you can
&et a lead on the carpenter. Then, come
in, We'll have plenty of work to do.”
Friese was waiting when Warren
arrived at his office.
Claude’s gone fishing near Yachats.
44
Just before midnight on October 1,
Harry and myself ‘were deep in the
heart of Flatbush, trying to help my
brother Dan’ (now deceased) with a
tough one he had as a detective in the:
63rd Precinct. We dropped into a lunch
wagon and Hansen as was his custom
made some telephone calls, checking on
whether anybody had been calling him.
When we finished our coffee, we went
again to meet one of Harry’s people,
and on the Cianci thing this was to be
the last of those conferences.
Cianci was holed up in a second-floor
flat at an address on Carroll Street, the
home of Edna Rausch. And the dope
Hansen brought kack was to be careful,
“a couple of guns are in the place.” .”
Keeping my brother with us (an extra
detective can’t hurt when there is a
chance of fireworks), we went down to
the Carroll Street address, gave the
place a thorough casing—from outside.
Then we went to a near-by restaurant
to kill time. If you let people get into
a sound sleep it’s much easier to sur-
prise them.
Close to four a. m. we picked a uni-
formed cop from his post on near-by
Fourth Avenue, posted him in the back
yard. “Let nobody down that fire-
escape.” Then the three of us went to
the second floor, one at a time, quietly
as possible, and paused for breath. The
building is very old, the woodwork pretty
dried out; for three of us it wasn’t too
much trouble to ram the door right off
its hinges. And there was our man,
~ Fred Cianci, in his shorts, struggling to
‘yank open a trunk. He never made it.
Good thing, too. For the trunk con-
tained two fully loaded rifles, two
equally filled, .38-caliber automatics,
500 rounds of ammunition, and a razor-
sharp, old-fashioned hunting knife.
The Edna Rausch dame was there also,
but, of course, not in the trunk.
They don’t expect him back until late
Sunday night.” ‘
“When did he leave?”
“Around noon.” 7 ;
“Any chance of reaching him if we
send a man there?”
“No. It’s wild country. I located the
grandson, Jimmy, by telephone. He said
he would notify his brother who is sta-
tioned at an air base, and then try and
locate his father.” ‘
“Does the grandson have any ideas
about the slaying?”
“None.”
Friese asked Warren: “What do we
do now?”
“The first thing is to get an all-points
bulletin out on the fellow Shell claims
he saw in the kitchen. Parker is follow-
ing through on some carpenter who was
supposed to have had trouble with Mrs.
Litchfield.” ‘4
Friese lighted a cigaret and eased
himself onto the edge of Warren’s desk.
“What do you think of Shell’s story
about that fellow in the kitchen?”
Warren shrugged. “It’s hardly the
kind of a story anybody would make up;
but it doesn’t make much sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Friese agreed. “If
the fellow killed the old lady, why would
he walk into the kitchen and fix himself
a sandwich and hang around the
place?”
“More than that,” Warren pointed
out. “Shell told us he came downstairs.
_If the killer was in the kitchen, he must
have heard Shell coming down the
stairs. It would be natural for him to
beat it.”
Friese exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“I’ve known Harold Shell for. quite
awhile. He’s a nice fellow. I don’t think
he would kill the old lady and I don’t
think he would lie to us.”
“I'm not accusing him of the killing,”
Warren said. “I’m just trying to figure
Like almost everybody else in the
case, Fred Cianci insisted” he knew
nothing. Never shot Davino. Never
heard of the people we’ were talking
about. No amount of questioning
changed that attitude. °
On April 21, 1937, almost two years
after the killing, he went before judge
and jury. While there were numerous
witnesses, the main ones were our man
from Woodbourne Prison, Tony Fran-
coni, and The Two-Headed Woman.
After three days of trial, the case was
put into the hands of the jury.
NOTHING about the trial of a man
for his life can be humorous, and
what follows is not meant that way.
It is here only because most observers
felt that it had a profound effect on
the jury’s verdict.
Cianci was defended by the famed
former judge, Leo Healy, If there’s any-
thing about law that Healy doesn’t
know, it has to be something that
Blackstone failed to write down. All
during the trial the death gun (un-
loaded, naturally) lay on the counsel
table. At one point it was handed
around as an exhibit from one juror
to another.
Leo Healy with a tough case and
very little to work on, was as usual put-
ting up a tremendous battle. During a
blazing summation he picked the death
weapon from the table, carried it with
him in his right hand. The attorney
was harping on the fact that even
though Cianci might be found guilty of
anything, it could not be murder in the
first degree.
“Where is the premeditation, delib-
eration?” Leo thundered. “The people’s
witnesses tell you that a man walked
in, drew a revolver and then fired it
five times, in this fashion.” Then
pointing the weapon up over the jury
out why the other fellow was in the
kitchen. If he was the killer, then we’re
dealing with some kind of a: psycho-
pathic case. No sane person would beat
the old woman to death with an ax and
then go inside and fix himself some-
thing to eat.” ‘
Friese squinted in thought a moment.
He crushed out his cigaret. “You
know,” he said, “the man in the kitchen
may not have been the killer.”
“No? What was he doing there, then?
Howell said she was killed about that
time—an hour earlier at the most.”
“Suppose the stranger in the kitchen
was a hobo. He came over from the
tracks looking for a handout. He saw
the kitchen door open and walked in.
Shell came down and surprised him.
The bum played it smart and just sat-
there. Shell asked him where Mts.
Litchfield was. The bum didn’t know
Mrs. Litchfield, but he figured she must
be the women of the house, so he said
she’d gone to the store. When Shell
asked him who he was, he still-vlayed
i. smart and told Shell he’s a friend of
ers.”
Warren listened to Friese’s theory.
“Maybe,” he said, grudgingly. “But
we're going to have to find this fellow,
anyway. He'll have a lot of explaining
to do why he was in the kitchen.”
DETECTIVE MASON came into the
office. “I’ve got a couple of things,”
he announced. ‘First, we’ve just dusted
the ax for prints. We only found
smudges, but it may tell us one thing.”
“Yeah? What)”
“The killer was probably left-handed.
The left-hand prints are below the
right-hand prints on the handle.”
Friese put his hands out in front of
himself, gripping an imaginary ax.
“Left-handed or cross-handed,” he
said. ;
box, Healy pulled the trigger as rapidly
as possible, and with each pull he
shouted, “Bang!” Juror Number Three
dodged down below the top of the small
partition in front of the jury box. .An
involuntary action, sort of, to escape
being shot.
“Manslaughter! Manslaughter! That
is all that happened!” Leo Healy ex-
claimed. :
!
AFTER fourteen hours’ deliberation,
that jury came back with a guilty
verdict—manslaughter. Nobody will
ever convince me that Healy’s “bang”
act didn’t save Cianci from the electric
chair. That for Healy is regular pro-
cedure; by actual count he has saved
over 150 people from that hot seat. ‘
On May 9, 1937, Judge Peter Brancato
sentenced Fred Cianci to “Thirty years
in State Prison.” And that is even
worse than it sounds. For Cianci al- -
ready ‘‘owed” five years on that pre-
vious conviction, and having violated
the terms of his parole, that five had
to be served before the 30-year term
could start. -
So what I call The Two-Headed
Woman case finally had been written off
the books. Now as to that old cliche,
about two heads being better than one,
I wouldn’t have any opinion. After you
go through a Jot of these mixed-up
homicide chases you feel that maybe
that keeper of the bungstarter has all
the best of it. If you don’t know nuttin’
—what can anyone do you? That is
exactly what he asked Harry Hansen
when Harry got a little nettled at the
guy. :
The names Tony Franconi, Sally
Kalb and Edna Rausch are assumed
names to protect persons not involved
guiltily in this manslaughter investiga-
tion.
from Page 33)
“I doubt if there are many people
who swing an ax cross-handed.”
Warren asked: “Did either of you
notice whether Shell was—” 7
Mason interrupted. “He was.up in
the lab with me going over his clothes
when the boys gave me the report. I
noticed particularly that Shell is right-
handed.”
sad & bean about the clothes?” Warren
asked. ,
“There are a couple of pair of trou-
sers and a coat with some stains on
them. I couldn't find a thing on the
other stuff. Can I give the rest of the
stuff back to him?”
“Anything you don’t need. Can you
tell what the stains are?”
“No. They don’t look fresh. I’) have
to send them up to the State Police lab
2 Portland. We haven't the equipment
ere.”
Warren said: “Get them up right
away. You can get one of their cruis-
ing cars on the radio to stop by and
pick them up.” :
“Right away,” Mason said. As he left
the office, he added: “I've got my neg-
atives developing now. I’ll have prints
for you after a bit.”
Friese made out an all-points bulletin
to be broadcast on the man Shell had
seen in the kitchen and took it to the
radio room.
A short time later, Parker came in.
He’ reported he had investigated the
carpenter. He had paid cash for his
advertising and had given only Mrs.
Litchfield’s telephone number.
“He hasn't been into the newspaper
office for the past two weeks. I think
we'll be able to run him down, though.
I've sent some men out to canvass the
hardware stores around town. He must
have bought supplies.”
As the afternoon wore on, the news
r as rapidly
th pull he
mber Three
of the small
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shter! That
» Healy ex-
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obody will
dy’s “bang”
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egular pro-
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t seat.
er Brancato
Chirty years
iat is even
* Cianci al-
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iat five had
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Cwo-Headed
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‘yr than one,
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e mixed-up
that maybe
rter has all
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rry Hansen
ttled at the
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20 ved
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ther of you
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nell is right-
‘s?” Warren
vair of trou-
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‘d. Can you
sh. I'll have
ite Police lab
e equipment
m up right
their cruis-
stop by and
id. As he left
got my neg-
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oints bulletin
in Shell had
ook it to the
ker came in.
‘stigated the
cash for his
n Mrs.
ib
e aper
eks. think
own, though.
» canvass the
wn, He must
on, the news
of the death of Mrs..Litchfield was cir-
culated throughout the city by the press
and radio. Headquarters was swamped
with telephone calls of scores of per-
sons who saw mysterious figures lurk-
ing around their homes and in alleys.
The prowler car officers answered
each call.
Later in the evening, Detective Hou- ;
ser came into Chief Warren's office
excited. “I was making a routine can-
vass on. all the people who had seen
Mrs. Litchfield today and talked to the ~
toy who delivered the groceries there
early this morning,” he said. “The
young fellow’s name is Jim DeLaw. He
said he made the delivery about nine
o'clock. Mrs. Litchfield always called
her order in early and—”
“What’s so important about that?”
Warren interrupted him. “We’ve got
a witness across the street who saw
Mrs. Litchfield alive at eleven o’clock.”
“It’s her: purse,’ Houser said.
“Her purse?” \
“Yes. She always paid for her gro-
ceries in cash. Jim DeLaw says she
gave him seven dollars and seventy
cents and she took it out of her purse.
He said he noticed she had more money
in it while she was getting the bills
out for him.” ‘
“We didn’t see any purse around
there.”
“That’s the point! She had a purse
with money in it.” .
“Where is this DeLaw now?”
“T’ve got him outside. I’ll bring him
in.” :
Warren questioned the youth about
Mrs. Litchfield’s purse. He said it was
an old-fashioned leather bag with a big
gold clasp on the top of it.
“She gave me a five-dollar bill and
two ones,” DeLaw recalled. “She had
the rest of the paper money in sort of
a bundle.”
After questioning the boy further,
Warren told Houser: “I think we’d bet-
ter go back out to the house and see
if we can find the purse around. It
could be that was what the killer was
after when he used the ax.”
AS THE officers left Headquarters,
they saw Shell in his taxicab. They
stopped to ask him about Mrs. Litch-
field’s purse. Shell couldn’t recall Mrs.
Litchfield having a purse. She always
had put the money he gave her into
the green box he had pointed out in
the kitchen. ;
At the house, the officers searched
through the kitchen without finding
the purse. They went through the liv-
ing-room and finally the bedroom. :
They found the purse in a bureau
drawer.. No money was in it.
Warren looked down into the empty
purse. There was no doubt that it was
the black bag the grocery clerk, Jim
DeLaw, had described.
“Jim was certain he saw her put a
roll of bills back into it,’ Houser said.
Warren nodded. “It’s empty now.”
“But how would anyone know the
purse was in here?” Houser asked.
“The room isn’t disturbed. The rest
of the house hasn’t been ransacked.
Even the green box in the kitchen
wasn’t touched.”
“Answer that and you’ll know who
killed her,” Warren told him.
“You think somebody who knew she
kept her purse here in the bedroom
killed her?”
“It sure looks that way.” .
The officers took the purse with them
back to Headquarters. They gave it to
Mason to dust for finger-prints, but
without much hope. The leather bag
was of rough finish and hadn’t the kind
of surface to retain any good prints.
DURING the night, Headquarters re-
ceived a number of telephone calls
to investigate suspicious characters. A
half-dozen were brought in and Shell
was called in to look at them. He shook
his head and said none was the man
he had seen in the kitchen. All were
released.
A call came in from Eugene, 79 miles
south of Salem, early Sunday morning
that a young hitch-hiker had been
picked up ther, who answered the de-
scription of the man Shell had seen.
He was brought to Salem and ques-
~
- tioned. - He insisted he was on his way
to California from Seattle.
Shell took a look at the man and
said he was not the person he had seen
in the kitchen.
With the autopsy completed, Warren
conferred with Doctor William Lidbeck.
He asked about the left-handed theory.
The Doctor was unable to confirm it
completely, although he said there were
indications that the blows might have
been struck by a left-handed man.
Mrs. Litchfield had been struck
numerous times by a blunt instrument,
which was apparently the _ blood-
stained stick of stovewood. The ax had
caused fourteen deep wounds in the
head, neck and shoulders.
“The killer must have knocked her
down with the stovewood and then used
the ax while she was on the floor,”
Doctor Lidbeck advised.
“Tell me something,” Warren said.
“Do you think a person could be so
cold-blooded that he could kill an old
woman like that and then calmly walk
into the kitchen and fix himself some-
thing to eat afterward?”
“I can’t answer that,”’ the Doctor
told him. “I suppose it would be pos-
sible if the person was a_schizo-
phrenic.”
“That’s a crazy person, isn’t it?”
“Yes, in a sense of the word, but it
is more than that. It’s a person with
that would give him a lead. He said:
- “Then, would you say that the killer
knew Mrs. Litchfield? That she had
done him some injustice, possibly even
imaginary?”
“Yes. That is highly probable. How-
ever, if the person was under the in-
fluence of the paranoic stage of the
schizophrenia, the injustice might
have come just prior to the attack, al-
though it is more possible that it built
up over a period of time.”
ARREN returned to Headquarters.
He looked up Parker and asked if
the carpenter Mrs. Litchfield had quar-
reled with had been located.
“His name is Fritz Stubel. He was
living in a cheap hotel but he moved
out two weeks ago. No one has seen
him around since.”
“J want him found,” Warren said.
“Use some of the boys from the uni-
ng patrol if you need to, but find
him.” ~
“You think he killed her?
much of a motive—”
“The killer may not have needed
much of a motive.” Warren explained
what Doctor Lidbeck had told him
about the schizophrenic mind.
All Sunday morning and afternoon,
the officers were kept busy answering
calls and questioning persons in the
district where Mrs. Litchfield lived.
It isn’t
\
Only Chasing a Thief”.
arraignment.
in Indianapolis.
custody.—The Editor.
~~ Released From Custody
Sp JUNE 23, 1951, a young man named Mike Mattes was
shot and killed on a lonely field near Indianapolis,
‘Indiana. The story of the year-long investigation into his
slaying appeared in the August, 1952, issue of OFFICIAL
DETECTIVE STORIES Magazine, under the title, “He Was
This story concluded with the arrest of two young men,
Donald Nicholson and Donald Cunningham, and their
Subsequent to publication of this story, the evidence
in the case was presented to the Marion County grand jury
Both men repudiated confessions they
allegedly had made and the grand jury failed to indict
either of them. On August 1, 1952, they were released from
split personality. His mind is divided.-
One part might be seemingly healthy
and orderly while the other side would
. be completely delusional,”
\
Warren asked: “Do you mean he
could have killed the woman while
being under the influence of one part
of his mind and then went into the
house and acted on the other part of
his mind?”
“Roughly speaking, it amounts to
about that. He might even be unaware
of the crime he had just committed
while under the paranoic-influence of
his split mind.”
“That sounds like it might be our
killer,” Warren declared. “Is there
anything distinguishable about that
kind of person? Any way we might be
able to tell who he-is?”
“Not by looking at him, certainly. ;
Possibly not even by talking to him, for
he might be under the influence of the
healthy, orderly part of his mind. It
would take a good psychiatrist to ob-
serve his actions.”
Warren thought this over. It was
going to be difficult to trace a person
like that. “Tell me this, then: What
would cause the crazy part of his mind
to prompt him to batter the woman to
death with an ax?”
“The paranoic side of schizophrenia
often suffers from hallucinations. It
develops delusions of persecution.
Sometimes they are completely imag-
inary, or can be based on some trivial
injustice that is built up all out of
proportion.” .
Warren was searching for something
’ The word of the crazy killer had
spread through Salem and the resi-
dents were in a near panic. Every
strange or suspicious person seen in the
area was reported to Headquarters. "
Late in the afternoon, Claude Litch-
field returned from his fishing trip and
was notified of his mother’s death.
Warren telephoned him and asked him
to drop into the office. é
After discussing the crime with the
son, Warren asked: “Can you think of
anyone your mother knew, or anyone
who might have been a boarder at one
time, who would fit the description of
the man Shell saw in the kitchen?”
“You don’t think someone who knew
my Mother killed her, do you?” Litch-
field asked.
“I’m almost positive of it.”
“T can’t believe it,” Litchfield de-
clared flatly. “I don’t think Mother had
an enemy in the world. She was a good
church woman and lived here all of
her life.”
“I know that,” Warren said. “T still
think it was someone who knew her.
Tell me this. How long had she had
that green box in the kitchen where
she kept some of her money?”
“Green box?”
Warren described the box and Litch-
field said: “Oh, that one. Only a few
months. I had it at my house and she
saw it. She said it would be good to
keep her rent receipts in. I didn’t know.
she planned to keep her money in it.”
“We found sixty-five dollars in it.
Before she got the box, where did she
keep her money—in her purse?”
=*Yes. I think so. . She_never kept
much money around the _ house,
though.”
“She had sixty-five in the box. and
more in her purse,” Warren reminded
him. Then, “You're positive you can’t
recall anyone who knew your mother ~
who would fit the description of the.
man Shell saw?”
Litchfield wracked his memory.
“There was a young fellow who lived
with her. I remember he had a blind
wife. It was about five years ago. Gen-
erally, the description might fit him.
He was only about twenty at the time
but he didn’t have that high forehead
like the man you describe.”
“Do you recall his name?”
& TOOK a few moments more of
thought before Litchfield, said: ~
“Karnes, I believe. Yes, that’s it. Al
Karnes. I don’t recall him too well, but
it seems to me that he got into some
kind of trouble.” ;
Warren called in other detectives.
He asked if any of them recalled the
man Al Karnes. They couldn’t remem-
ber him.
“I seem to remember he got into some
kind of trouble,” Litchfield repeated.
“Look in our mug books and see if
you can find if we ever handled him,”
Warren told Mason. :
Karnes hadn’t been arrested locally.
Houser spoke up. “I’ve been thinking
about that name of Karnes. Seems I
heard it recently. Something to do
with an automobile. Maybe it was an
auto theft report. Let me see.”
Houser went to the Bureau of Rec-
ords. He came back shortly with a
teletype report. “Here it is. I thought
I recalled the name.”
The report was from’ Newport, 92
miles southwest of Salem. It stated
that the police had found a wrecked car
there registered to an Albert Karnes of
Astoria, Oregon, 146 miles north of
Newport. The car had been abandoned
and they were looking for Karnes to
question him about the wreck.
“If it’s the same Karnes, then he
— have been in this district,” Warren
said.
Mason came into the room carrying
a large mug book. He put it on War-
ren’s desk, saying: “This is from the
reformatory. ‘They’ve got an Albert
Karnes who went up four years ago for
a burglary.”
Litchfield looked at the picture.
aoe the fellow. I’m sure that’s
im.” - .
“Call the reformatory and see
whether he’s out or in,” Warren told
Mason. To Houser he said: “Get Shell
in here, too, for a look.”
While Mason put in the call, Warrem
studied the picture and the information
under it. Albert William Karnes, born
in Portland, had lived most of his life
in Astoria, Oregon, and would be 24
years old.
It gave his occupation as a “knocker
and sticker”.
“What’s that?” Warren asked Friese.
Friese said: “That’s a guy who works
in a slaughter-house. A knocker hits
the cattle in the head and knocks them
down. While they’re stunned, they're
put on a sort of block-and-tackle and
hoisted with the hind feet in the air
and the sticker cuts their throats so
they will bleed.” ;
“A slaughter-house worker,” Warren
said softly. His thoughts went to the
bloody woodshed_ behind Mrs. Litch-
field’s home.
Mé4son turned from the telephone.
“Karnes was released six months
ago.”
“Get some copies made of that pic-
ture of him,” Warren ordered. “I want
everybody in the district where Mrs.
Litchfield was killed to take a look at
him.” 7
Shell came in a short time later. He
looked at Karnes’ photograph. “It
could be him,” he declared. “The pic-
ture is quite a bit younger than the
man I saw and the hair—” :
“It was taken over four years ago,’
Warren said. “Being in a reformatory
ages a man.”
By Monday morning the officers had
found several persons who had seen a
45
VE
enreneeet~egeiomanes
EST Spee
Man resembling Karnes around the
Litchfield house on the day Mrs. Litch-
fleld had been killed.
From a call to Astoria they learned
that Karnes had left the reformatory
looking for his wife and had been unable
to find her. It was possible that he had
come to see Mrs. Litchfield in an at-
tempt to locate her. -
“But why would he have killed Mrs.
Litchfield?” Parker asked Warren.
“We'll probably have to find him to
know the answer—that is if he did kill
her—but there are a couple of possible
answers. He lived with Mrs. Litchfield
and knew where she kept her purse.
Whoever killed her, knew about the
purse. Secondly, if he’s a schizophrenic,
like the Doctor thinks, he could have
imagined she had done him some in-
justice.” ;
A state-wide search was started for
Albert Karnes. And when the news
got out that they were searching for a
mad slaughter-house worker, terror
again seized the entire community.
Men feared to leave their families, even
during the day, for there was no tell-
ing when such a mad killer would
strike again.
[Ars Tuesday evening, June 10,
Warren received a call from Chief
Jack Lyons at The Dalles, Oregon, 168
miles northeast of Salem.
“I think we’ve got the man you’re
looking for,” he announced. “He gives
us the name of Bill Davidson and denies
being in Salem or killing the woman,
but we’re sure he’s lying.”
“He fits the description?”
~ He Was
Meanwhile Crowley and Thaxter went
downstairs. They requestioned the
room clerk and talked to the bellboys,
doorman and parking attendant to try
to learn how Shipley had reached the
hotel. The doorman thought he had
arrived in a cab; they questioned several
drivers without success and returned to
Headquarters to give their report to
Captain Harry Didion, head of the Rob-
bery Squad. .
There, Didion put out the routine all-
points bulletin giving Shipley’s descrip-
tion, although he had little hope it
would help, for this was a big job and
apparently well planned.
DION heard the details and asked:
“What do you think?”
“The robbery’s on the level, all right,”
Crowley replied. “Bellboy and clerk
and doorman all remembered Shipley
and described him. What’s more, if
you'd talked to Levis you’d realize that
a ia never be involved in a phony
eal.
“Remember, this was a big sale. If
you or I went in and asked to look at
a rock worth a hundred bucks, he
wouldn’t let us out of his sight with it.
But when you’re making a deal for a
hundred grand, it’s different.”
_“I suppose so,” Didion agreed. ““We’ve
had all kinds of cases, but this is our
first big diamond robbery. It kind of
leaves us up a tree on what to do.”
Thaxter said: “The only way we're
going to crack this is to find out how
they are going to be fenced.”
Didion nodded. “But that isn’t in our
class. None of the local fences could
handle a job this big. We'd better leave
that angle to the insurance investiga-
tors. We'll work on trying to trace this
Shipley. Suppose you fellows go over
to the Robert Glass Company and see
what they know about him while I get
in touch with the insurance company.”
Crowley and Thaxter reached the
Robert Glass Company in the Jewelry
Trade Building just as they were clos-
ing. They asked about Shipley and the
floor salesman recalled him readily.
Here, too, Shipley had used the story
about coming from the Canal Zone with
his father.
“We showed him some of our mer-
chandise, but it wasn’t in the class he
46
“More than that,” Lyons said. “He
pulled about the same thing here, only
he didn’t kill the woman. He attacked
her with a hammer.”
Lyons said that they had been called
to the home of Ben Callaway that
afternoon. Callaway had come home
and found his wife horribly beaten
about the head, lying in a pool of blood
in their bedroom, and a claw hammer
alongside her.
“The assailant must have left her for
dead,” Lyons said. “But by the time
we got there, she had recovered enough
to tell us that she had walked into her
bedroom earlier in the day and saw a
man prowling through the bureau
drawers. He turned and attacked her
with the hammer. Fortunately, she
Shielded her head with her arms: the
doctor at the hospital says she will re-
cover.”
“How did you find the guy who at-
tacked her?” Warren asked.
“That’s the strange part. The wo-
man had been bludgeoned at least a
couple of hours before her husband
found her. We were going through the
house looking for evidence of how he
had gotten into the place and we found
him sound asleep in the basement.”
“Asleep in the basement?”
“Yeah. He didn’t put up any strug-
gle when we took him. He readily ad-
mitted attacking the woman with the -
hammer,” Lyons said. ‘He said he was
looking for money when she happened
to come in. Afterward, he went down in
the basement and went to sleep.”
“Schizophrenic,” Warren said.
“What?”
.
Only Pyramiding
was looking for. That’s why we sent
him over to see Levis.”
“Did you recommend him to Levis?”
“We didn’t recommend him to Levis.
We recommended Levis to him. We
didn’t know anything about the man,
other than what he told us.”
“How did he happen to come to you?”
“He was sent to us by Harry Cohen,
a wholesale jewelry outfit.”
Cohen’s place was closed for the day
by the time the detectives arrived there.
They were able to reach him at home
by telephone but he did not recall
Shipley.
“Maybe one of my floor salesmen
talked to him,” he said.
“Can we get in touch with them?”
Crowley asked. ‘This is urgent.”
When Cohen supplied their names
and telephone numbers, Crowley was
able to find three of the salesmen at
home. But they did not remember
Shipley, either. Two of the salesmen
were out. The detectives returned to
Headquarters, planning to try to reach
them later in the evening.
N THE meantime, the insurance in-
vestigator had arrived at Didion’s of-
ce.
“How are you going to handle this?”
Didion asked him.
“We'll get out a warning to all dia-
mond merchants. In our business we
know pretty well anyone in this country
who could handle a haul like this one.
Our big worry is that the stones will be
taken out of the country.”
“Can we help there?”
The investigator shrugged. “Chances
are they'll be taken to Mexico first. The
thief would have no trouble getting
them across the border. Anyone could
stick diamonds in his pocket and cross
into Tiajuana on the pretense of going
to the race track at Caliente. Our job
will be to watch people who leave Mexico
for Europe or South America. A gang
probably would fly to South America or
go down to Mexico City and then to
Europe with them.”
PN a you think a gang is involved in
this?”
“It’s almost a cinch. Even the big-
gest jewel thief can’t work alone. He
can steal the stuff alone, but he must
have contacts to sell it. Take this Ship-
”
“That’s about the same thing that
happened here,” Warren went or with-
out explaining. “After he apparently
killed Mrs. Litchfield, he went into the
house and fixed himself a sandwich to
eat.
“We'll be over the first thing tomor-
row and I’ll bring a witness with me.”
Warren, Houser and Parker with Cab
Driver Shell left the next morning for
The Dalles. Shell immediately identi-
fied the man who gave his name as Dav-
idson as the man he had seen in the
kitchen.
QUESTIONED by the Salem detec-
tives, Davidson admitted his true
identity was Albert Karnes and con-
fessed to the killing of Mrs. Litchfield,
according to the officers.
Chief Warren claimed later that
Karnes said that he had been driving
from Astoria to Salem to look for his
wife when he wrecked his car near New-
port. He hitch-hiked a ride into Salem
and on Friday afternoon he went out to
see Mrs. Litchfield to ask her about his
wife. She did not know where his wife
had gone after she left the boarding-
house. The following day, Karnes said
that he returned with the purpose of
robbing Mrs. Litchfield. She was in the
woodshed when he arrived and he first’
struck her down with a piece of wood
and then used the ax. After she was
dead, he went into the house and took
$30 from the purse he found in the bed-
room and then had gone into the kitch-
en to fix himself a sandwich. It was
while he was there that Shell had come
in and seen him.
a Fortune (Continued from Page 29)
ley, for example.’ He was seen by Levis
and we have a good description of him.
He wouldn’t dare go near any fence,
because we know most of the dealers in
stolen jewelry—this big stuff—all over
the world. We’d grab him in a minute.”
The investigator paused, then went
on: “The way this gang will likely
operate is to send the stuff to Mexico by
someone other than Shipley. It will
probably go to a third party in South
America or Europe, maybe even a fourth
or fifth party before it reaches a place
where the stones can be sold.”
“The chances of grabbing them don’t
look good.”
“They aren’t good,’ the investigator
said. “Frankly, we don’t always catch
up with them when they take unset
stones. Our one big break here is that
they went for the Baumgold Brothers’
stuff. The ‘Circle of Light’ cutting is a
trade-mark. If we can find anyone
with the stones on him, we won't have
much trouble identifying them.”
“Your sources to cover the fencing of
the diamonds are a lot better than
ours,” Didion declared. “I suppose we
can leave that angle to you. What do
you want us to work on?”
“Try to get some line on this Shipley.
He is very likely on his way toa spot far
from here bv now, but he was in Los
Angeles for at least a week. If you
could pick up a trace of him from his
description, we might be able to learn
who he was with. Our big job is to get
a lead on the person who might be
carrying the stones out of the country.”
When Crowley and Thaxter returned
to, Headquarters, Didion gave them the
insurance investigator’s picture of the
case. “About all we can do is look for
Shipley,” he said. '
(CROWLEY grinned. “That’s going to
be a rough assignment.”
Later in the evening, Crowley finally
caught up with the salesman who had
talked to Shipley at the Cohen
Company. The salesman recalled
Shipley and said: “He had a card from
somebody who sent him to us, but I
don’t remember who it was.”
“Think, man,” Crowley pleaded.
The salesman, however, was unable
to help. “I have the impression it was
some little outfit, but for the life of
Police also stated that they found
bloodstained clothes in a suitcase in®
Karnes’ hotel room in The Dalles.
Karnes was charged with burglary
and assault in Wasco County at The
Dalles. He pleaded guilty to the charge
before Circuit Judge Malcomb W. Wil-
kinson, who sentenced him to fifteen
years in the Oregon State Prison. on
June 19.
Charges of first-degree murder were
filed against Karnes in Marion County
at Salem.
Harold Shell and Fritz Stubel, of
course, were completely exonerated.
After examining the pasty-faced for-
mer slaughter-house worker, Assistant
District Attorney Joseph Meier stated to
the press: “It is my theory that the man
not only is basically a sadist, but he also
was so used to seeing blood from the
steers he killed that he kept swinging at
Mrs. Litchfield.
“It is more difficult to explain how
anyone could be so cold-blooded as to
wash himself in the victim’s bathroom
and then munch away on a sandwich
only a few minutes later, but it resolves
Pwo primarily to a psychological prob-
em.”
On July 14, Karnes was arraigned be-
fore Circuit Judge George R. Duncan,
where he entered a plea of innocent to
the first-degree murder charge “by
reason of mental defectiveness.”
He was convicted of first-degree mur-
der on August 9 and sentenced to death
‘on August 12.
The names Fitz Stubel and Mrs. Bar-
bara Gore are fictitious in this story.
\
me I can’t recall who. That was about
two weeks ago and since I didn’t sell
him anything, it just didn’t make much
of an impression.”
“Keep trying to remember,” Crowley
told him. “Our one chance is tracing
Shipley. If it does come to you, call me
right away.”
The salesman called Crowley the
following morning. The person who
had sent Shipley to them, he thought,
was the owner of a small jewelry store
in the Hollywood district. “His name
is Harry Burr. I can’t.be positive, but I
think that’s who it was.”
Crowley and Thaxter went out to see
Burr. At first he didn’t recall Shipley.
However, after the detectives gave him
the description and the circumstances,
Burr exclaimed: “Sure, I remember him
now! He came in here two or three
times, asking about the jewelry
business.”
“What did he have to say?”
“He told me his father had a jewelry
store in the Canal Zone and was plan-
ning to finance a store here in Holly-
wood or Pasadena if he could find a
good location. At first he just asked
about locations. Then he asked me
about my sources of supply and I told
him about the Cohen Company.”
“How long ago was it when he first
came in?” Crowley asked.
Burr scowled in thought. “It must
have been at least a month ago, maybe
more.”
“Did you ever see him around the
district, other than the times he came
in to see you?”
Burr hadn’t, but he did have the im-
pression that Shipley was living some-
place in the Hollywood area.
The detectives questioned Burr
closely, trying to get him to recall some-
thing about the man, something he
might have said, that would give them a
lead. However, the jeweler was unable
no come up with anything more of
value.
TALKING it over after they left the
shop, Crowley told Thaxter: “He’s
been around here for at least a month.
He must have been staying someplace.”
Thaxter snorted. “So what? He
probably lived in some hotel and he
wouldn’t be using the name of Shipley.
’
‘to eat,
little ent
ing for t
Didion «
ledge of
the broad
when’ C
“I'Ve got
gator co
case.”
“What
“About
thieves.
by going
make the
“It’s a
Thaxter
who sent
sent him
and ther
Levis go’
must be ¢
ing busin
“He cc
nickel in
was getti|
“That's
been seri
store whe
stickup n
until he s
Thaxter
been abl
Started.”
have the State Police at Astoria see if
they can get a line on Karnes.”
Warren called Captain Ray Howard,
district commander of the state police,
immediately, and told him of the latest
development. Howard promised full co-
operation and said he would have his
Astoria office start to work on the case
immediately. Several hours later, results
began pouring in. The police at As-
toria reported that Karnes had spent
a year in the Washington State Re-
formatory at Monroe for burglary
after leaving Salem in 1950, They also
reported that he had been involved in
several assault cases in which he had
definitely shown sadistic tendencies. The
Officers said they had also succeeded in
locating Karnes’ former wife. She told
them she divorced him during his im-
prisonment. She said it was her under-
standing that he was then on parole,
but she knew nothing of his present
whereabouts.
Chief Warren put through a long-
distance call to the parole board at
Seattle and the information furnished
by the former wife was quickly con-
firmed. In addition, a parole officer told
Warren that Karnes had been working
in southwestern Washington as an ap-
prentice carpenter. Warren thanked
the parole officer and hung up.
“Karnes is a carpenter,” he told
Friese, “and that’s good enough for
me. He is certain to own a claw ham-
mer. I’m going to ask for a warrant
for his arrest on suspicion of mur-
der.”
Before doing this, however, Chief
Warren wired a request to the Wash-
ington parole board for an official de-
scription and fingerprints of the sus-
pect. Then while he was waiting for
the information from the parole board,
another bit of encouraging information
came from the state police. The police
reported that an automobile registered
to Albert W. Karnes was found wreck-
ed and abandoned on the Pacific Coast
highway near Newport, about 90
miles southwest of Salem on Thursday
afternoon. The car had been impound-
ed, but Karnes had made no effort to
reclaim it.
“That means to me that he isn't
anxious to meet up with the police,”
said Warren. :
The description of Karnes and his
fingerprint classification arrived a
short time later, and a bulletin asking
for his arrest was issued immediately.
“I hope that we get Karnes before
he murders someone else,” Warren told
Captain Friese. “I’m convinced that
he’s kill-crazy.”
The next piece of this bizarre jig-
saw murder mystery fell into place
much quicker than either Chief Warren
or Captain Friese had expected, and
it happened at The Dalles, a Columbia
River town, 160 miles northeast of
Salem. On Saturday, just a week after
Mrs. Litchfield’s murder, police at The
Dalles read the bulletin requesting the
arrest of Karnes and noticed the re-
76
semblance of his description to that
of one of their prisoners. The individ-
ual, who said his name was Bill David-
son, was being held for assault on a
housewife who surprised him while he
was prowling her home on June 10.
He struck his victim, 35-year-old Mrs.
Ben Callaway, three vicious blows
with a carpenter’s claw hammer and
sent her to the hospital with a skull
fracture. Mrs. Callaway’s assailant fled,
but he was captured next morning
when he was found asleep in her base-
ment.
He unhesitatingly admitted the as-
sault and explained that he felt it was
safer sleeping in her home than it
would have been to return to his hotel
where police would probably have
looked for him. The Dalles police com-
pared Davidson’s fingerprint classifica-
tion with that of Karnes and found
them identical,
As soon as Chief Warren received
the startling information by long dis-
tance telephone, he arranged with Chief
Howard to have State Police Sgt.
Charles U’Ren, officer in charge’ of
The Dalles area, to question the man
who claimed he was Bill Davidson.
Confronted with the fingerprint classi-
fication, the suspect admitted that his
true name was Albert William Karnes.
Then, without referring to the Litch-
field murder, Sergeant U’Ren asked
him to account for his activities the
previous weekend.
Karnes said he wrecked his auto-
mobile while driving south on the
Pacific Highway near Newport, and
abandoned it. He claimed he hitch-
hiked to Portland over the Sunset High-
way, arriving there late Saturday af-
ternoon, and that he attended a picture
show ‘after washing up at the bus
depot, and after the show, took a bus
to The Dalles, arriving there shortly
before midnight. He explained that he
registered under a fictitious name at
the hotel because he left Washington
without permission of his parole officer.
On Tuesday, he confessed, he attempt-
ed the burglary: of the Callaway home
and attacked Mrs. Callaway.
He told his story in a straightfor-
ward manner, which left no reason to
doubt his veracity, but when Sergeant
U’Ren asked Karnes what theatre he
attended and the name of the picture,
he suffered a sudden lapse of mem-
ory. He was unable to explain why he
went out of his way to hitchhike to
Portland over the Pacific Coast High-
way when he could have taken the
much more heavily traveled and short-
er route leading through Salem,
U’Ren still didn’t mention the Litch-
field murder to Karnes, but he called
Chief Warren immediately and noti-
fied him of the startling outcome of
his interview.
There was no doubt now in the mind
of Warren but what they had the killer
in jail, but in the hope that he could
find someone who Could definitely place
“ Karnes in Salem on the day of the kill-
ing, he released his picture to the news-
Paper and requested that anyone who
had seen Karnes notify him.
Benjamin Kerlee, owner of a res-
taurant on State Street, furnished the
missing link needed to weld the chain
of evidence around Karnes. He said
that he had definitely served him on
the evening the Slaying took place.
Then, on Tuesday, June 17, Chief War-
ren, Detectives Parker and Houser took
Harold Shell, Mrs. Thurston and Kerlee
to The Dalles, where they immediately
picked Karnes from a police line-up as
the man-they’d seen in Salem. But
before they questioned him in regard
to the Litchfield slaying, they went to
the hotel where he had been registered
and found a claw hammer in his suit-
case. The hammer gave evidence of a
thorough scouring.
Feeling that they now had a complete
chain of evidence woven around
Karnes, Chief Warren and Friese con-
fronted him with it. The 24-year-old
suspect readily admitted the murder in
a signed statement given to Court Re-
porter Richard Crane in the presence
of the Salem officers, Police Chief Jack
Lyons of The Dalles, and Wasco Coun-
ty Deputy Sheriff Henry Re. He said
that he had visited his former ‘landlady
on Friday afternoon while looking for
his former wife and that he had re-
turned Saturday and attacked her with
his claw hammer when he found her in
the woodshed,
“I struck her with the axe and piece
of wood just to make sure she was
dead,” he said.
Karnes told the officers he washed
up and changed clothes in his vic-
tim’s bathroom, then looked for her
money, He took $30 from her purse,
he said. Although he claimed that rob-
bery was his only motive for the bru-
tal crime, police were convinced that it
was a sadistic impulse which drove
him to commit murder.
Marion County District Attorney
E. O. Stadter filed first degree murder
charges against Karnes immediately
after learning of his confession; and
on June 18, he was taken before Cir-
cuit Judge Malcolm W. Wilkinson in
The Dalles to answer charges that he
burglarized the Ben Callaway home and
assaulted Mrs. Callaway. He pleaded
guilty to both charges and was sen-
tenced to 15 years in the state peni-
tentiary at Salem.
At this writing, Karnes is being held
in prison, but when a trial date is set
on the murder charge, District At-
torney Stadter will secure a court order
to bring him from behind the prison
walls into a Marion County court
room to answer for the brutal murder
of his former landlady.
(The names of John Thomas, Mitzi
Berg, Eldon Richards and Sam High-
tower as used in this story are ficti-
tious to prevent humiliation to persons
who became involved in a murder in-
vestigation.)
Phe 4
ped th
they we
and we?’
when 1}
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¥
i
TT Pye REY
SS
" mencement orators are wont to
~ proclaim, are wonders to behold. This is
. the sort of remark which professional
speech writers describe as “a permissible
‘b2— statement of the obvious to lay the foun-
_ dation for development of an impressive
conclusion.” : J
There is nothing wrong with such a
-. statement, of course, but it is heard so
often that a thinking listener might be
~tempted to wonder why no one ever
=~ mentions the achievements of ancient
science. Measured against the yardstick
- Of time, and taking into consideration the
crude materials and limited lore with
which they had to work, those
achievements of the scientists of antiquity
must almost certainly be regarded as
by CRAIG CALDANIE = -|
so HE ACHIEVEMENTS of...
. modem science, high school com- *
even more wondrous than the scientific _
community's modern magic.
Not the least of the ancients’ dis-_
. coyeries which has become a keystone in
the work of the moderns is the inflexible
law of cause and effect. Indeed, this law
has played a major role in every signifi-.
cant discovery that advanced the
knowledge of man.
It figures in the daily lives of every
man, woman and child on planet Earth,
and nowhere is it more important than in
the work of homicide investigation. In
this area, cause is called motive, and
effect is called murder. Every homicide
probe begins with the element of effect,
~ . or murder. And the first order of business
t
‘
in the investigator's attempt to find the
murderer is to ascertain the cause, or the
motive. :
Greed, lust and revenge are the classic
motives for murder, each of these having
an infinite variety of subdivisions. Each’
tells its own story about the person who
kills another human being. Once the
motive is established, the fragments of.
the puzzle usually fall into place, and it is
relatively simple for an astute in-
vestigator to fill in gaps in the pattern of
physical evidence.
When he has put them all together,
even in cases in which the identity of the
killer remains unknown, the homicide
detective at least knows that type of per-
son he is seeking.
By logical extension of these prin-
44
<
ciples, -it follows that the absence of a
clear-cut motive when there are no clues
to the slayer’s identity makes a case the
most difficult of all to solve. They rarely
admit it to the press in so many words, but
these are the frustrating cases in which
homicide probers are forced to recognize
that the killer could be anyone, he could
have come from anywhere, and he could
have gone anywhere—or nowhere—after
taking the life of his helpless victim.
If he has been careful not to leave
fingerprints, he forces the men charged
with his apprehension to admit. to
themselves:' “We've got nothing but a
body.”
It was such a murder which broke the
long, homicide-free record of the police
department of Salem, the quiet, tree-
lined, flower-decked capital of the State
of Oregon in the heart of the scenic
Willamette River Valley. According to
records on file at the Salem headquarters,
this bloody event burst upon the quiet
Western community in the small hours of
an otherwise quiet Sunday morning.
It was 25 minutes before four o'clock
on that eighth day of June when the desk
sergeant, took a call from an excited man.
The caller was so agitated that his first
words were virtually unintelligible, and
the sergeant had to quiet him down
before he could make any sense out of
what the man was trying to tell him. The
only words, in fact, that came over clearly
were: “I think my landlady has’ been =
murdered!”
When he had finally calmed the caller,
the sergeant took down the pertinent in |
formation: the callers name, Ed
Wambley; the address where the crime
had occurred, 1333 Waller Street, which
the duty officer knew was one of Salem's
quietest and oldest residential areas, That |
was enough for the moment. The
sergeant told the caller to stand by and ®
‘ i
not to touch anything.
“T'll have some men there ina fet |
minutes, Mr. Wambley,” the officer said
Motive For The
“Wait outside for them.”
The sergeant then radioed instrue
tions to the squad car nearest to the crime
scene to proceed to the address at ont
and report back as soon as they had asce™
tained exactly what had happened.
It was 4:40 a.m. when the poli)
cruiser manned by Patrolmen William)
DeVall and Vernon White screeched to
halt in front of the neat grounds of tht
home on Waller Street. A young 1M
hurried over to the police car as the 0
ficers alighted. Bi
“I'm Ed Wambley,” he vsaid
breathlessly. “I’m the one who calléd
station.” RX
“What's the trouble, Mr. Wambleyt”
f
MASTER DETECTIVE, February, 1975.
>
Cy
Det Houser (I.) and Capt. Friese hold axe and chunk of firewood, weapons used in slaying of Susan Litchfield (r.)
i
‘
Oregon detectives investigating the bloody
: axe-murder were up against the proverbial
Bt): , brick wall, and their chances of breaking
the stalemate grew increasingly dim,
unless they could uncover the
ae ©
~
‘Widow's Murder
45
OT US (Kjuroy uotzey) uoseug posses “ne *aqtue
36eet
- Patrolman White asked. “The sergeant ©
© said something about a possible murder.”
The young man nodded affirmation
© © and pointed to an attached woodshed at
ys one side of the
house. “It’s Mrs.
-Litchfield,” he said. “She’s in
there...It's—it's—” He paused, as if
“groping for some all encompassing word
‘ to describe what he wanted to say, then
finished ona helpless note...” It’s just aw-
full”
Wambley led the officers to the out-
side door of the shed, saying, “I went in
this way. She’s lying near the door that
goes into the house.”
~. The patrolmen entered the shed. In
one corner, lying between a large chop-
ping block and a neatly stacked pile of
split firewood, was the crumpled body of
“a white-haired woman. The officers at
“once noted a number of things.
First, even without trying to find a
pulse beat, they knew she was dead. The
woman lay very still. There was a shock-
ing profusion of blood in evidence, but
save for a couple of scattered moist spots
on the rough wood floor of the shed, all of
it had already dried. es
Patrolmen White and DeVall noted
that the dead woman was wearing work
gloves on her outstretched hands. Her
face and the upper part of her frail body,
were covered with blood from several
ugly, meaty looking wounds.
Near the body stood a heavy, single-
bitted axe and a piece of stove wood.
The officers noted these items particular-
ly because both were heavily stained with
blood. It too had coagulated. *
Officer DeVall could not suppress an
involuntary gasp with his first look at the
ghastly sight. Officer White squatted
beside the woman’s body for a closer look
at the victim of Salem’s first murder in 17
years. He was silent for several moments.
Then he said: “It looks like she was first
hit in the mouth by a fist. And I think
some-of the blows to her head must have
been inflicted after she was knocked.
down. Whoever did it certainly wanted to
make sure the poor woman was dead.”
Rising to his feet, he said to his
partner: “You'd better report in, Vern. I'll
stay here with the body.” DeVall hurried
out to the cruiser and got on the radio to
report the sketchy details of what they
had found.
Within scant minutes, the quiet old
* neighborhood was alive with traffic as of-
ficial cars of every description converged
on the scene. Uniformed patrolmen, who
arrived first, were followed by a couple
of detective teams. Captain Stanley
Friese and Detectives Wayne Parker and
David M. Houser were alerted at their
homes; they arrived almost simultaneous-
‘ly with Marion County Coroner Leston
W. Howell. Everyone stepped away
from the corpse to permit the coroner to
make his on-scene examination of the
body. While he was doing this, the detec-
tives questioned the man who had-
telephoned the report of the crime.
Ed Wambley told them he was a taxi
driver for a company in the city, and he
show ed them his identificaton. He said he
was 30 years old, and he had roomed at
the Litchfield home for several months.
“I finished work around four this mor-
ning,” he related. “I had a bit to eat ata
diner, then came home. I wanted to be
sure Mrs. Litchfield had enough firewood «
to cook breakfast with, so I started to go.
into the woodshed.”
Wambley said that the inside door to.
the shed was usually kept locked and the
key was always hung on a hook near the
door. When he looked for it, however, it
was gone.
“I thought she had forgotten to leave .
it,” the cab driver said. “so I went to Mrs.
Litchfield’s room. She wasn’t there,
which was pretty surprising. I’ve never
known her to be up and around at that
ie Es, f fe
Police Chief Warren suspected killer was
carrying death weapon around with him in
a suitcase reportedly seen by witnesses
hour of the moming. I had a hunch
something must be wrong, so I went.
around to the back door of the shed. I
went inside and—and found her like
that.”
The man shuddered as he concluded
his account.
By now, Coroner Howell had com-
pleted his examination and came out to
talk with the detectives.
“This is the worst crime I’ve ever
seen,” he said, shaking his head.
“Whoever killed this woman is definitely
a sadist. The upper torso was deliberately
mutilated—undoubtedly after she was
dead.”
“Any idea when it happened, Les?”
Captain Friese asked.
The coroner estimated that the
murder had occurred sometime during
the previous afternoon, Saturday. “But
that’s just a guess,” headded. “I'll have the
~ and his assistants again questioned the
7 roomer who had found the body. Fri
autopsy started first thing tomorrow mor
ning, and we may beable then to fix the
‘time a little more definitely.” a
After the coroner had_ supe
#
removal of the body to the Howell oe
Edwards funeral home, Captain Friese”
was hoping he might have some informa
tion which could throw some light on the
shocking crime. For openers, » they®
wanted to know when he had last seen his:
Jandlady alive. ;
“The last time I actually saw
Litchfield was Friday afternoon “juste
before I left for work when I paid hermy
room rent,” the’cab driver said. “Whent
got up Saturday, she wasn’t around,
didn’t think anything about it. I figured
maybe she had walked over to chat with
one of the neighbors. She used to do that?
sometimes, when the weather was nice,
also thought she might have gone s!
ping.”
“Did you notice anything out of the
ordinary before you left for work?” the
captain asked. “Or see anyone?” 9
“There was nothing out of the 4
dinary,” the cab driver-roomer replied
“but I did see someone. A young fellow
came to the door just as I was getting
if Mrsey
ready te leave and asked :
Litchfield was here. When I said: she”
wasn’t, he wanted to know when she’dbe
back. I told him I didn’t know.” He pau
ed to light a cigarette.
“What did he say to that?” asked Cape
tain Friese.
“Not much,” the witness , answered
with a shrug. “Just that he was an old
friend of hers and would try to come back
later to visit her.”
ad
“Can you describe this guy?” asked fi
Detective Parker. =
Wambley was thoughtful for a mo
ment, then said the stranger appeared to L
be around 25 years old, was slightly built
wore eyeglasses and had “blondish hait=_
sort of on the dark side.” He also said the 7
visitor had a pointed chin and “sort of
narrow shoulders.” He had been carrying
a suitcase. ;
:
36 .
et seit BANA Sel eee
|
able to offer any clue to the identity of the
_ wnknown caller described by the roomer.
He could not recall anyone who might fit
the description. After all, he said, Mrs.
_, Litchfield had taken in lodgers for many
» years; they came and went, after living
~ >with her for varied periods of time, in a
feemingly endless procession. He
couldn't begin to remember all the peo-
~ ple who had lived with her.
Ae It was possible, though, he suggested,
t the man might have been a former
_teomer who had stopped by for a visit, or
Even to see about engaging a room again.
- Dismissing the matter of. the
“Chub might know who he “ish :
Wambley suggested. g
The detectives knew who the tat
driver was referring to. Chub was &
relative of the slaying victim, a formef
‘police officer who had become the farm
labor representative for the captial city
, area of the State Employment Service: ™
After sending Detectives Houser ang”
Parker out to canvass the neighborhood
_for any information they could pick up )-
which might throw some light on M@®,
savage crime, Captain Friese used 4}
neighbor's telephone to contact the yiee
tim’s relative.
The man was stunned by the news?
his kinswoman’s brutal murder. He said}
he would come as quickly as possible. He
arrived within a half hour, but he was ut
-™ysterious caller for the moment, the
» Saptain asked the man if he could think of
_ - §¥y possible motive for the vicious slay-
The man shook his head in utter
»bafflement. He said he didn’t think it
_ could have been robbery, because Mrs.
© Litchfield never kept much money
» *ound the house. He went to see if the
nee household cash was still in its usual place.
Captain Friese accompanied him to a
_¥titing desk, where the man rammaged
through a drawer filled with odds and
ends till he found a small metal box which
f once held chocolates.
Use emoving the cover of the. box, he
d ound $65 in bills of | various
. Minations, which he said he thought
2 as about the usual amount of cash Susan
le ae
Litchfield might have kept on hand.
To Captain Friese, this did not com-
pletely eliminate robbery as the motive.
After seeing where the box was kept, it
occurred to him that the murderer might
not have been able to find the money. It
had been well hidden, and the killer
might not have wanted to spend too
much time in the house after having slain
the elderly lady.
“There's another possible motive,” he
suggested. “The brutality of the crime
suggests it might have been committed
by someone who had a grievance against
the victim.” He asked the dead woman's
relative if he could think of anyone who
might have nursed a bitter grudge-
The bereaved man shook his head
: emphatically and said he'd never heard of
her having trouble with anyone. In
further questioning, the captain learned
the following about the background of
- Susan Litchfield:
She was a native Oregonian, and she
had moved to Salem when she was a girl
of 17. She had lived in the city ever since.
In 1904 she had married George
Litchfield, and in 1911 they had moved
into the house where she had been
murdered. She had lived there without in-
terruption for nearly 41 years. ,
Susan Litchfield’s husband had served
in the United States Army during the
Spanish-American War. While on duty in
% State prison’s gas chamber loomed for key suspect Albert Karnes, but he denied having been near the murder scene
_
the Phillippines, he had been stricken
with poisoning of some undetermined
origin. The affliction had left him in poor
health until his death in 1925.
At that time had had been employed
as a mail carrier in the Rosedale district
south of Salem. When he died, Susan
Litchfield had taken over the route and
carried the mail for many years. Mrs.
Litchfield had been a member of the Bap-
tist Church, and was quite active- in
church affairs until advancing age began
to limit her movements. She was also ac-
tive in the Spanish-American War
Veterans’ Auxiliary.
None of this information offered any
sort of hint as to why the 81-year-old
woman had been so_ shockingly
murdered. Incongruously, for one of her
years, her slaying had all the earmarks of
a crime of passion, but that it was such a
crime seemed to be out of the question.
For want of any more specific leads,
Captain Friese theorized that a transient
thief with a sadistic streak might have
been her slayer. Aware that the tracks of
the Southern Pacific Railroad were only a
few blocks from the murder scene, he
thought it possible that a hobo might
have found his way to the home.
Moreover, the tracks nearby offered an
avenue of escape to a vagrant familiar
with methods of hopping a_ passing
* (Continued on page ye
Ah RP PTE MSS HEMT RE Et
ater mantis dines
ing on a house repair job and that he
didn’t get home until six o'clock. After
cleaning up and having dinner, he play-
ed cards with a neighbor, he said. His
story was substantiated by the neigh-
bor, and the odd-jobs man was cleared
of all suspicion.
Although they were again without
a suspect, Captain Friese picked up a
bit of information which further con-
vinced him that robbery had not mo-
tivated the murder. Jim De Law, de-
liveryman for Busick’s Market, told
Friese he had delivered the box of gro-
ceries at Mrs. Litchfield’s home late
Saturday afternoon, and that she had
paid him $7.70 for them from her
purse. There did not appear to be a
substantial amount of money in the
purse, De Law said. He made the de-
livery about 4 P.M., he said.
“| have a hunch that the murderer
is someone who formerly lived with
Mrs. Litchfield,” Warren told his men,
“and it’s possible that if we take an-
other look through her belongings we
might find a list of her former roomers.
Her orderly housekeeping habits would
lead one to expect her to keep some
kind of a record of her transactions.”
Chief Warren’s hunch proved to be
a good one, for when Parker and
Houser made another search of the’
home a short time later, they found
a small ledger in which Mrs. Litchfield
had kept a record of all the persons
who had ever roomed with her. The
remainder of Tuesday was spent in
checking on several of the former
roomers, but they were all able to
account satisfactorily for their activi-
ties on Saturday.
On Wednesday afternoon, funeral
services were held for Mrs. Litchfield
at the Rigdon Chapel with her pastor,
the Rev. Omar Barth of the Calvary
Baptist Church, officiating. Thursday
began with the investigation still bog-
ged down, and only one man whose
name appeared on the list of roomers
had not been checked out. He was
Albert William Karnes.
Claude Litchfield was contacted, but
he did not remember Karnes. He ex-
plained that out of the many who had
roomed at his mother’s home, he had
become closely acquainted with few of
them, and that Karnes had not been
one of them. .Talks with neighbor wo-
men, however, brought some results.
Several of them remembered that
Karnes and his wife had lived with
Mrs. Litchfield for several months be-
fore they dropped from sight late in
1950. Karnes was a slender young man
with blond hair and he wore glasses,
the women said. They remembered
hearing Mrs. Karnes once say that they
were from Astoria, Oregon, a fishing
town situated at the mouth of the Col-
umbia River.
When this information was taken
back to Chief Warren, he told Friese:
“The description of Karnes comes
pretty close to that of the man seen by
Shell and Mrs. Thurston. I’m going to
—
he
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69
January, 1933
in fact, for within a week’s time, there
were over a dozen members, trusted
long-termers, tearing out huge chunks
of clay in a tunnel that would have
done credit to so many experienced
sewer diggers.
And here, another character entered
Tom Murray’s life. A character who
later figured in a sensational episode
with him and who was to be one of the
leading characters in a life and death
drama.
That man was James “Oklahoma
Blackie’ Willos, who had been sent up
from Umatilla County, April 13th,
1924, to serve a term of seven years for
burglary. Willos had an unenvious
crime record back of him, having worn
Number 30307, on his back in San
Quentin prison, and having escaped
from the State Penitentiary at McAI-
lister, Oklahoma, to beat a five year
rap.
ILLOS was twenty-seven but he
looked much older than this. He
was short and chunky in build, though
quite active and agile of body. His
black hair, a coarse, heavy mop, grew
down over his brow to within an inch
of his beetling eyebrows... His eyes,
grayish-brown, and heavy-lidded, were
like pieces of metal that had been
forced into the coarse darkness of his
face. whose plainness was unrelieved By
the long, sharp nose and wry gash of a
mouth. His face was distinctive and
would have intrigued the scientific eye
of. a character reader, whose snap
judgment would have said that Willos
did not possess an abundance of intel-
ligence. This would have been wrong,
of course. Willos was one of the
shrewdest individuals that the author
has ever come in contact with. With his
inscrutable, cave man’s face, he looked
bad, and he “talked a good escape”
and Murray took a liking to him im-
mediately.
Preparations for the escape, included
the construction by the convicts, of
three separate chambers within the
huge pile of cordwood, and the start on
the tunnel was made leading from the
larger of these chambers. Progress
could be made from one chamber to
the other, however, by removing short
blocks of wood which could not be dis-
tinguished from the larger ones.
The entrance into the outside cham-
ber in the woodpile was cleverly con-
cealed also with blocks of. wood that
could be removed easily. The first
chamber was merely a blind, in that, if
the officials should run on to this, they
would probably look no farther. The
second chamber was used for the con-
victs to change all wearing apparel, be-
fore taking their shifts in the tunnel.
The third and largest chamber, where
the actual digging was taking place,
was spacious enough to hold several
tons of earth.
Shirts and trousers with their num-
bers cut out and destroyed, old shoes
and prison caps replaced clean cloth-
ing while digging for freedom. The
handles of shovels and picks were sawed
off short so that free action would not
be impeded in the tunnel, and the tools
were sharpened into a razor edge. An
old-fashioned type of kerosene lamp
The Master Detective
was uncovered by Murray somewhere,
and this was used to furnish light while
working.
In fact, there was nothing but smooth
precision and enthusiastic team-work
in this potential wholesale delivery,
concocted by a cunning and alert brain,
determined to “beat the wall”.
About the 15th of June, 1924, the
work was so far advanced on the tun-
nel that the men felt their longed-for
freedom almost at hand. They were
within three feet of the North wall, and
the trying labor ceased temporarily. It
was unanimously agreed that the break
should take place on the morning of
July 4th, while the annual field-meet
would be under way on the prison ball
diamond as the prisoners’ and guards’
attentions would be directed on this
event.
By this time, there were fifteen con-
victs “in on the deal,” and among them
was Billy Crosby, serving twenty-five
years for holdup, from Multnomah
County. He was quite a favorite among
the prisoners and was the star pitcher
for the prison baseball nine. His crim-
inal career was crammed with daring
incidents, and he was considered as
“solid” as the wall that lay before
them. He was “eggs and the coffee”
‘which in Tom Murray’s lingo, meant
that he was all right.
But on the afternoon of June 18th,
1924, something happened.
Two convicts, whom I will call, Ed-
die and Mike, volunteered their services
to go in the tunnel and dig to the wall.
These two men, for the most part, had
been used as lookouts while Murray or
some of his colleagues had been inside
at work.
But this day, Murray had a hunch.
It started this way.
At two o'clock, in the company of
Joe Jackson, Blackie Willos and Crow-
bar Kelley, he started to enter the
tunnel. Something about the way that
the short blocks of wood were placed
in the entrance, attracted his attention.
He seemed puzzled.
H E leaned forward tensely, examining
" each block minutely. Suddenly he
raised up, his face strangely sober.
‘ Py the matter?” Jackson quer-
ied.
His feverish anxiety brushed aside
the question. “This don’t look right to
me,” he muttered. “Somebody's been.
in this bole.”
Have the authorities discovered the
convicts’ daring escape plans?
Have they examined the tunnel and
replaced the wooden blocks so that
they might catch the scheming inmates
in the act of attempting to “beat the
wall’?
Will Tom Murray out-wit the prison
authorities as he did once before or
will they thwart this sensational jail-
break?
The startling developments in the
plans of this most daring of all jail-
breakers will thrill you as few stories
ever have; for Tom Murray possesses
courage and determination. Don’t
miss next month’s sensational install-
ment of Murray’s thrilling career in
February MASTER DETECTIVE. On
sale at all news stands January 20th.
Order your copy NOW!
65
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20
willing young convicts.
“You fellows want to
go inside and dig
awhile today?” Mur-
ray asked.
Both men nodded in
The Master
(Right) While this base-
ball game was going on
within the walls of
Oregon State Prison,
engaging the attention
of the tower guards,
Tom Murray was cutting
. : his way to freedom
immediate assent. ”
“I been wanting to
go in there and see
how she looks,” said Mike, “ever since we
started.”
Murray shrugged. “Well, you’re liable to get
an eyeful today. I think we got a rank, and I’m
going to find out.”
MURRAY'S remark suddenly chilled their orig-
inal enthusiasm. Mike’s eyes narrowed with
instinctive suspicion. “You mean me and Eddie
might get caught in there?”
Murray’s eyelids drew together. “You might,”
he said shortly. “But you’re game, ain’t you?”
“Game as hell,’ answered Mike. “How about
you, Eddie?”
“Okay,” Eddie echoed. “Let’s go.”
“Listen fellows,’ Murray said. There was a
faint harsh note under a forced calm. “If there’s
a rank, I’ll throw three rocks on top of the wood-
pile. And when you hear them—that means,
come out and make it snappy.”
Barely a half-hour after Eddie and Mike had
made their way inside the tunnel things started
to happen fast.
Captain of the Yard, Golden, and
Ivan McClain, yard guard, suddenly
appeared on the scene.
“Every man report to the yard at
once,” Mr. Golden called out, a stern:
emphasis attached to each word.
“Come on, you fellows, I mean all of
you.”
Murray felt a sickish sensation at
the pit of his stomach. He-shook his
head as though to make sure that
his ears were operating properly. His
hunch had been correct, after all.
The convicts had all dropped their
wood at the Yard Captain’s com-
mand, like it was so much hot iron.
As they filed past the guards, every
face was tense, eager, electrified.
“Boy, if this ain’t a nice rank,”
Jackson whispered, as he stepped to
Murray’s side. He was stirred by a tremendous excitement
he was making every effort to conceal,
“There’s a leak some place in our plans,” Murray hissed,
“and I'd sure like to know where it is.”
He hesitated for just a moment, and then quickly picked
up three rocks from the ground, and tossing them in the
air, one at a time, he let them fall on top of the woodpile.
With that, he and Jackson made their exit to the yard.
When the two convicts, who were digging in the tunnel,
heard the dull sound of the three rocks land on the wood-
pile above their heads, they could scarcely believe their
ears. Their hearts bounded; stood still; began to hammer
under their mud-stained shirts.
Dropping their tools, they quickly scrambled out of the
tunnel into the larger chamber where the dirt was piled.
From there they made their way into the second chamber,
and working with all the speed they were capable of,
they shed their muddy clothing, replacing it with clean
attire,
They then made their way out, crawling on hands and
knees, to the first chamber, to where the exit was located.
Eddie reached forward to remove a block of wood, and
Detective
NN tecetie
; \—e we wr : i
(Left) M. W. Miller, Principal Keeper of
Oregon State Prison at the time of
Tom Murray’s most sensational escape
as he did so, an audible exclamation escaped
his throat.
Mike started a question, but Eddie tossed
up his hands in a warning, helpless gesture.
“Look,” he muttered tensely, “straight in
front of you.”
Mike looked, and the sight which met his
eyes made his face blanch. For, standing
directly in front of them, some thirty feet,
was Ivan McClain, Yard Guard, his burly
form and alert eyes blocking any attempt to emerge out
into the fresh air.
The convicts replaced the short block of wood, lay back
with their brains working in a mad jumble, and waited—
desperately hoping that the guard would leave. But the
guard didn’t leave, however, He stood right there, for one
hour—two—thtee!
LL during these three hours, the two convicts fought
doggedly to keep hope burning within them, a far-
fetched hope that perhaps this was just one of those mir-
aculous coincidences that always happen sometime during
a man’s lifetime. It was a losing fight, however, for Mc-
Clain’s keen gaze was a little too alert, his heavy body a
little too obstinate and determined in it’s very stance,
Eddie gave a sigh of resignation. “We might as well get
out of here, and give ourselves up, Mike,” he said philo-
sophically.
Mike nodded assent. “Might as well. No use in both of
us going out there though. He might not know that two
of us are in here. We'll match straws and see who goes out.”
Eddie agreed to this plan, and on the matching of two
spli
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LLLY & WILLOS, whs, hanged ORS (Marion) April 20,
The story so far:
Tom Murray, bank robber and desperado, held up a
bank at Florence, Oregon, and after escaping and decid-
ing to give up the dangerous career of a bank robber
for that of bootlegger was turned in to authorities by a
woman with whom he had entrusted his secret. The Dis-
trict Attorney promised Murray two ten year sentences
to run concurrently if he pleaded guilty; but when Mur-
ray did plead guilty he was given two ten year sentences
to run consecutively. Embittered, Murray planned a jail-
break as soon as he entered the Oregon State Prison. He
made friends with “Oregon” Jones, “Crowbar” Kelley and
other prisoners and together they planned and executed
a daring escape. All but Jones were soon captured and
returned to prison. Murray lost no time in planning an-
other escape. This time he and his companions are dig-
ging a tunnel near a wood pile under the prison wall. All
goes well until one day Murray becomes suspicious of cer-
tain changes in the tunnel and fears that the authorities
are aware of their plans. He summons two convicts, Eddie
and. Mike, to work in the tunnel. Murray is determined
to find out just what the Warden knows.
He is sure that his “hunch” has some foundation and in-
sists that they have a “rank”.
The story continues:
18
CAs
9 35»
1928
A general view of the area within the walls where the giant
wood pile stood around which Torn Murray planned his whole-
sale jail delivery. The post marked X is where the tunnel to
freedom was started under the wood pile
The Amazing Story
of Convict Tom Murray,
Oregon State Prison’s
Notorious Escape Plotter
YANG 8 RONG SCREEN BLD BS ee
CER ARR eee
here the giant
nned his whole-
e the tunnel to
{ pile
story
furray,
° 9
“ison §
» Plotter
=
pe a
LEE
Convict No. 9256
Oregon State Prison
Part Two
ACKSON registered astonishment. “What?
sible. Why, it looks all right to me.”
Murray shook his head, his gray eyes were hard.
“No, it isn’t all right, though. I’m telling you some-
body’s been monkeying with that wood.”
The convicts’ faces grew strangely sober. They looked
around. There were fifty men employed unloading the
trucks and stacking the wood in a great neat pile, and every
man was apparently absorbed in his work.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Willos demanded.
“Stand here all day and get a rank, or get in that hole and
Impos-
cs
Bt PB.
<a e e
J
if
(Above) The scene of one of the most
daring escapes ever perpetrated from
any prison. X marks the barred sec-
tion of the power flume of the Oregon
State Prison through which Tom
Murray cut his way to freedom vir-
tually under the eyes of the tower
guard
(Left) Tom Murray, the youthful but
desperate criminal who was put be-
hind prison walls time and time again
only to escape
go to work?” Willos thought Murray was imagining things.
Murray’s brows knitted closer; his good-looking face
became set in graven lines of thought.
“I got a hunch that we might be walking right into a
trap,” he said, speaking rapidly, voice low. “Now listen,
you guys—if we've got a rank, we’re the ones the ‘bulls’
are laying for. Therefore, we have got to stay out of that
tunnel today. Somebody else has got to go in.”
Jackson stood for a long moment, puffing thoughtfully
at a cigarette.
“I think you’re all wet, Tom,” he said abruptly, “but
I'll see Eddie—and Mike—. Maybe they'll go in.”
A few minutes later, Jackson returned ‘with the two
19
» saw
over
“Just
h side
ip his
e car,
y had
w into
From i
id saw 4
red her
dressed
ost uNn-
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rap Places Police Scour ©
his pal Mer mf
trio of despre" "
manhunters in Che nee
ame intu the cit.
they h sid ante ieee
yre.in iinape
itives
night
ae
The Newman cottage which Tom Murray seized, compelling its occupants to
offer refuge to him and his gang. Seated
in the foreground are Clarence Newman, his wife, and two children
Murray was unaware of Mr. Newman’s presence in the
room, and upon hearing the woman call her husband's
name, he entered and brought them both out, apologizing
to her for his act. Newman's younger son, Lyle, was asleep
in the third room, but the convict did not look in there
until about an hour later.
After Murray had ushered Mr. and Mrs. Newman into
the living room, he motioned to Kelley, and he yelled to
Blackie Willos to bring the four Monitor youths inside the
house. Kelley, all this time, had been standing guard at the
west door.
Willos brought young Leslie Newman inside, along with
the men he had been guarding in the car, and the entire
group Was herded together in the living room, which was
also used as the dining room. Murray then ordered Mrs.
Newman to cook some food for the fugitives. The woman,
by this time, had gained control of her swiftly-beating
pulses, and she went coolly about the task of preparing
breakfast. The rest of the family busied themselves around
the house, helping her, and two of the fugitives and some-
times all three kept watch over them. This was an Un-
necessary precaution, as the Newman family were quite
sensible and sane, and were not thinking of making any
false moves.
Immediately following breakfast, which had been shared
by everyone, Murray pushed back his chair, and curtly
gave the Newman family their instructions.
“Go about your work today as you have always done,”
he said. “You four men,” gesturing to the Monitor youths,
“will remain inside the house all day. Don’t start moving
around or getting rambunctious, The quieter you sit, the
better off you'll be. The rest of you—do what you're sup-
posed to do, but don’t start acting scared or suspicious and
you won't get hurt.”
About ten o'clock, Leslie Newman went to get the mail.
When the convicts had arrived that morning, they made
the boy back Mr. Newman’s car out of the garage, and
drive the “hot heap”, their own car, in the garage, in its
place. The convicts then closed the door so that the missing
machine would not be found.
So when Leslie took the Newman car to get the mail, he
made an irreparable mistake. The box was located at only
a five-minutes-walk from the house—and he should have
walked, For Tom Murray went with him and saw him
drive. And then it was that the escaped fugitive decided
on taking young Newman into Portland with him
The convicts, as well as the members of the family and
the four Monitor youths ate three times that day. One
fugitive would keep guard over everyone in the house while
the remaining two would eat with the hostages. Murray
and Willos were cool and collected at all times, and often
they were actually carefree and jovial in their actions
Blackie Willos performed an amazing array of baffling
card tricks during the day for everyone’s amusement, and
Murray talked quite freely with Mr. Newman
MURRAY learned that Newman was a newspaper man
whose home was located in Berkeley, California, and
that this was merely his summer retreat in New Era, Oregon
The convict, in turn, gave his unwilling benefactor his
version of the thrilling escape, minutely describing every
detail, and there were several discrepancies in the official
version and his own version.
Murray claimed that Kelley and Willos were standing
with their hands up in the air, under cover of five guards
armed with guns, just outside the iron fence of the prison.
and also covered by a guard in the Bullpen tower, when
Jones came around the corner and chased them all awa)
Also that Oregon Jones picked up the pump shot-gun, and
sent the load of buck-shot through (Continued on page 65
yer shop,
s Office.
iurriedly
ace and
ay lead-
vhere he
iering in
he at-
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ma ter-
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was in-
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yer One,
ded, was
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re. But
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dropped
all. were
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he 32-20
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an down
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. the in-
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shooting
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convicts,
re,
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the wall
er Three,
scene of
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and see-
ict life-
flume, he
mn him.
‘cuted a
water to
sured to-
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ims Was
on. He
e nearest
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boarded
wn, two
eda rifle
March, 1933
from a gun store and then returned to
the prison.
He returned just a half-hour after
the last whine of a bullet was quieted
at the prison. .
After all the prison guards were in-
capacitated or had fled, two life-term ,
convicts, seized the keys to the inside
gates and held them until Mr. Miller
was able to get out of the messhall,
where he had been on duty, and take
charge of the situation.
One of the convicts, Clarence John-
son, serving “the book” for murder, col-
lected all the guns which were lying ajl
over the front yard and_ turnkey’s
office, and held them until Mr. Miller
could make a check.
HESE two men could have delivered
the entire population of the prison,
had they so desired, and that without
any great hindrance.
Principal Keeper Miller said:
“It may seem a little out of place for
me to criticize or ridicule the actions of
the guards, but nevertheless, | feel that
with. the sole exception of Guards
Sweeney and Holman, who gave their
lives in the attempt to stop the fatal
break, and Davidson, who halted Jones
and tried to down the rest, not a single
guard who was in any position to help,
met the situation as men should have
met it. The tragic part of it is the ap-
parent fact that the guards who wend
have helped, were unarmed, and those
who were armed, either forgot they
were or ran away.”
Oregon Jones apparently lost his
nerve at the last minute and wanted
to back out of the deal, but Murray
told him that they had gone too far
with their plans to stop. The over-
abundance of marihauna had_ killed
Jones’ jumping nerves but he went
crazy when the men entered the turn-
key’s office, and he started firing indis-
criminately at everything he saw mov-
ing.
Murray and Willos said that they
were afraid of him after they started,
and that they were glad that he was
stopped as quickly as he was, for he
was as “crazy as a loon.”
After Crowbar Kelley had left Jones
badly wounded, he apparently went
raving mad, and Mr. Zinn, the taxi-
driver, related that it was Kelley who
pleaded with Murray, that he be al-
lowed to kill him.
“Come on, Tom, let me put_a slug in
these guys,” Kelley gritted. “Dead men
tell no tales.”
Murray turned on him snarling. His
metallic voice hardly carried two
yards.
“Put that damn rod in your pocket,”
he commanded. “We've done enough
killing for one day.”
From a quiet, unaggressive petty-
Detective
The Master
thief, Jones’ unfortunate injury had
suddenly transformed Kelley into an
insane killer and a vicious one at that.
So out of the savage and bloody
break for freedom, out of all the pande-
monium and chaos, there was one glar-
ing personality that stood out like a
beacon light among the convicts. And
that was Tom Murray, the real leader
of the gang, who had remained cool
and “heady” all the way through.
While the body of Guard Sweeney
was being removed from the tower,
convicts in the north Wing of the pris-
on staged a demonstration. Shouts of
“Murray” and “Hurray” were heard,
and then catealls and shrill, hysterical
whistles filled the air, while the tumult
was increased by loud banging on the
doors of the cells, and the rattling of
bars.
Downtown, hundreds of persons,
many of them women, viewed the re-
mains of Oregon Jones, at the Rigdon
Mortuary. The only tribute paid the
dead convict, was a floral offering with
a card attached, reading:
Complimentary. With sincere sym-
pathy to ye Brave and Noble Victim of
the System—L. R. Grave.
Mr. Grave was listed in the direc-
tory as a Salem Heights fruit-grower.
AND then the great manhunt, the
greatest in all Northwest history;
radio broadcasting stations from one
end of the Pacific slope to the other,
flashing the three escaped convicts de-
scriptions out over the air at an_inter-
val of every half-hour; telegraph instru-
ments with their clicking keys, tele-
phones, high-powered cars, fleet air-
planes, everything was employed that
modern science was capable of furnish-
ing, to apprehend at all costs the fleeing
fugitives.
Rolling hills with their vast open
spaces, intermittent steep, rugged can-
yons, and dense patches of heavy tim-
bered areas were being combed minute-
ly and carefully by literally hundreds
of grim-lipped manhunters immediately
foltew iit the escape.
Will these desperate escaping con-
victs make good their determination to
gain complete freedom—or will the
drag-net spread by the prison officials
bring them back inside prison walls
and justice?
What will be the fate of these des-
peradoes who are willing to sacrifice
their very lives rather than submit to
another capture?
Will Tom Murray finally make the
“perfect” jail-break?
These and many more equally start-
ling questions will be answered in the
next instalment of this sensational in-
side story of the most notorious jail-
breaker of all: time. Don’t miss this
great feature in the April issue of the
MASTER DETECTIVE, on sale at all
news stands March 20th. Order your
copy now!
the guilty
Plagiarism
Stories have been submitted to this magazine which are copies that have appeared in other magazines.
Anyone submitting a plagiarized story through the mail, and receiving and accepting remuneration
therefor, is guilty of Federal offense in using the mails to defraud.
The publishers of THe MASTER DETECTIVE are eager—as are all reputable publishers—to stamp
out this form of literary theft and piracy, and are advising ell magazines, from which such stories have
been copied, of such plagiarism and are offering to co-operate with the publishers thereof to punish
persons.
Notice is hereby given to all who submit stories that the same must be the original work of the author.
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LY & WILLOS, hanged ORSP (Marion) April 20, 1928
MASTER DETECTIVE, April 1933
NO PRISON
The Astounding Story of
Oregon State Prison’s
= -— MM aia mee
The story so far:
‘TOM MURRAY, bank robber and desperado, was
first sentenced to prison for a bank robbery in
Florence, Oregon. He escaped and started bootleg-
ging only to be turned in to authorities by a woman
he trusted. Embittered by a long sentence, he lays
plans to escape again. He makes friends with other
convicts and together they execute several sensa-
tional jailbreaks only to be caught and brought
back. After being returned to prison several times
Murray outlines a desperate plan to his three “con”
pals, “Crowbar” Kelley, “Blackie” Willos, and
“Oregon” Jones. It means bloodshed, but they be-
lieve it will bring them complete freedom. The
daring break is carried through and “Oregon” Jones
is killed during its course. Two guards are killed and
several others wounded, but Tom Murray and his
two companions are outside the prison walls—-free.
They have disappeared in the hills, using every wit
at their command to make this the perfect getaway.
The story continues:
PART Four
OMEWHERE—somewhere in those hills,
officialdom believed Murray, Kelley and Wil-
los were hiding, but their desperate, untiring
efforts to uncover the slightest clue was of
no avail until the forbidding curtain was
brushed aside, and the second act of the drama of
a desperate flight for freedom took the stage and
thrilled an entire countryside,
Quite late on the night of Sunday, August 16th,
1925, four nights following the fatal break, four
young men, Leo Wilde, Otto Lucht, Lawrence Jacobs
and Joseph Leichte, were seated around a card tablr
in the rear of a poolroom, in the little town of
Monitor, Oregon. A fifth man had just
left the interesting card game, and now
the four remaining players were in-
tensely absorbed in the pastime.
Suddenly somebody came be-
hind the partition, covered the
men with a revolver, and in-
troduced himself by saying:
“Now just sit still boys,
keep your hands up in the
air and you won't get
hurt.”
The men gasped; eves
and mouths widened in as-
tonishment; then quickly
eight hands shot to the ceil-
ing.
The man who held the re-
volver with an unwavering grip
was a short, chunky, dark-com-
plexioned man, with a crooked, cyn-
ical smile touching his lips, and the
28
“GET CONVICTS!
ORDER ISSUE D Ue
i” FX
fi
aa | to ey
a B By & ae GB k
BF
THN WEATHER
Above is the front page of “The Portland N
trait of Tom Murray and the story: of O:
hunt. To the left is Charles L. N
who were forced to play host to M
whole state was ei
four young fellows felt instinc- gl
tively that his face and features ot
were familiar to them. Where had lu
they seen that face or that likeness ex
before? th
Their silent questions were answered mn
: immediately, and a trickle of agi- Te
th tation, like a faint electric: shock, went
ie through them when two more men an
entered the room. One was a_blond- ass
haired young fellow, with gray eyes that
at
ie ei aie
‘IF IT WILL HELP
OREGON, THE
NEWS IS FOR IT
WS [=
LCOND EDITION PRICE ‘TWO CENTS ¢2 Teatee, ek
Newa Stands Five
2 GUARDS
ike Posse Trails Desperate Trio in Woods East of Salem; Tom Murray,
§ Elsworth Kelly, James Willos Suceeed in Spectacular Attempt
to Break From Pen
By TOM EL St AE, Port an New Staff Correspondent
ENTLA RY, Salem, Gr, Aug, 12.—"Get them, ‘dead or alive!” was
cl anits of the Oregon national ruard, headed by two dozen pistol
‘ Movil ind polices a partment, as they were rushed from. the state
sdinebreak Wednesday to take up the trail of Tom Murray, Ellswo'
thier conrned clesporadaes, who shot, their way to freedom sho
iter killing two prison guards and perhaps fate ally wae
' fourth member of the liberty-secking party, was s saete:
rout te tong from the prison wall.
Behind Prison Wal)
(An Edivortal)
tv "82 Gays “Oregon" Jones,
Mie cay satin the “dog }
rel, lying: near death in the Santer bees
tel under his heart
~
“eal News” of August 14th, 1925, with a por-
anger : Oregon’s greatest prison break and man-
aa” L. 4 Newman and to the right is his son Leslie,
Ee to Murray and his comrades, while the
es eran searching for them
meatitac: glittered like cold steel, and the
sataiivels other, a muscular-built man, whose
en had luminous eyes, and sullen and morose
Benes expression on bitter features, caused
them to realize at once that they were
awered in thesvery midst of the much-wanted
of agi- Tom Murray and his gang. _
cavent Murray seemed to read their thoughts,
mi an, and he regarded them for a moment, a re-
aan assuring smile on his lips.
that “1 guess you fellows know already that we're
IN BREAK
When Three Men Talk 4
Could HOLD HIM
Convict Tom Murray,
Notorious Escape Plotter
By LEE DUNCAN
Convict No. 9256, Oregon State Prison
the escaped ‘cons’ from the joint,” he said grimly.
“We don’t intend to hurt you if you do what you're
told. Stand up. We want to give you a frisk and see
if you’ve got any rods on you.”
Kelley and Murray searched the quartet carefully,
but they found no weapons.
Willos then kept a careful watch over the young
fellows, while his two fugitive companions gathered
up a sackful of canned food from the shelves in the
front part of the building, took several dollars from
the cash register, and leaving several dollars, Murray
remarking that “we just want some change.”
After making sure that they had overlooked no
weapons in’ the poolroom, they herded the four out-
side, to where Lawrence Jacobs’ touring car was
parked. Murray gruffly ordered the men inside, and
they started off down the Pacific highway, travelling
in the direction of Portland.
Alt went well for awhile on the way down the high-
way. The fear was blotted out of the young fel-
low’s eyes when the realization struck them that these
three desperados -were only human after all, and
were not intent on murder at every move unless
forced into it. One of the captives, who was appar-
ently the “village cut-up” around his home town of
Monitor, regained his poise to the extent of cracking
numerous humorous jokes, and finally he even began’
“kidding” the three fugitives about their flight from
the posses.
This was a little 100 much for Tom Murray. His
physical and mental equipment was strained
from the constant vigil of outwitting the
manhunters, and his nerves were worn
to a raw edge. Lightning darted
from his eyes, and an ugly look
gripped his face as he turned
to his “wise-cracking” host-
age.
“Dummy up, you. I'll tell
you when to open that
trap of yours.”
The young fellow sobered
instantly, and until the
car was on the outskirts
of Canby, Oregon, there
was only ominous silence.
Here, the car ran out of
gasoline, and Murray forced
one of the boys to walk to a
garage at Canby and get some.
When the boy returned and the
gasoline was poured into the tank.
the car wouldn’t start immediately
IG
~
66
and Willos in chorus. “What does it
say, Tom?”
“Why, it says here that | was so
badly wounded in the escape from the
joint that you guys were forced to rod
me off. Just look at that glaring black
type. It says that the buzzards were —
seen flying over my dead body.
“Say, that’s the best joke I ever
read,” he chirped. “Gee, | wasn’t badly
wounded. Just got shot in the arm, but
there’s nothing the matter with it.
Suddenly his shoulders straightened.
From beneath the lids, his eyes held a
glint of steel as he surveyed his com-
panions. ;
“I've got full use of my arm, and if
anybody don’t think so, why, Just let
them try and run up against It.
Murray referred to being shot only
in the arm, but he had four bullet
wounds in his left hand and his chest
and stomach were literally peppered
with buckshot. He had not even taken
the trouble to bandage his hands,
which were badly burned from the
slide down the rope.
W ILLOs had a bad wound on his
left hand where a bullet from one
of the guard’s guns had grazed it. He
had it bandaged, as well as the other
hand, which had been burned by the
escape rope.
Kelley was burned slightly across
the hand and across his stomach from
where searing bullets had grazed his
skin.
“Well, Blackie, old boy,” said Tom
Murray to Willos, late during the eve-
ning, while the pair were washing dishes
for Mrs. Newman, awaiting the next
step in the getaway, which was closely
approaching that hour, “I guess we
won't go to Heaven, eh?” a
These two fugitives were in a jovial
mood, but as the zero hour drew nearer,
their demeanor suddenly changed. Wil-
los, who had been amusing the New-
man family and the four Monitor
youths all day, if one could call it such,
with his entertaining card tricks and
riddles, suddenly sobered. After glanc-
ing at the dial of the clock, his swarthy
face slowly changed expression. Both
he and Tom Murray became what Kel-
ley already was grim-faced, danger-
ously-alert fugitive murderers from jus-
tice.
It was about seven o’clock when the
convicts picked up their bag, which
they put their guns Into. They loaded
all their rifles into it. Their revolvers
were stuck in their belts. They boasted
of having plenty of ammunition, and
the lone one shell for the last shot.
Murray stood up. The boyish look
did not seem to be with him any more.
His voice was very quiet, but like cut-
ting steel, as he turned to Newman, his
narrowed gray eyes burning into the
older man’s.
“Mr, Newman, I’m taking your son
into Portland with me. I am taking
him, with no thought of harming him,
only as a protection to us.”
For a brief moment, Newman was
stunned into silence. “You're whatP”
he exploded suddenly. “You're taking
my boy with you?” Shanes
Murray disregarded the pleading in-
tonation in the other’s voice. “J am
The
sorry that human instincts are no lon-
ger with us,” he said. “But we are fugi-
tives—our very lives are at stake in
every move we make. We are going to
take your son, and this man,” pointing
to Leo Wilde, “into Portland with us.
If no alarm is sent in, then your boy
and this man will return alive. But on
the other hand, if you choose to double-
cross us—then, your boy and this other
youth will die We will have to kill
them.”
Newman’s soul was seething with re-
bellion at the quirk of fate that sent
these desperado’s to his home to‘ ter-
rorize him this way. As he considered
the hopelessness of it all, a sudden
wave of fury came over him. He set
up a vigorous argument but the grim-
lipped Murray would not budge from
his determination to take this boy away
as a hostage to him and his pals. Then
Newman tried persuasion and reason-
ing, but of no avail. Finally he said:
“Will you promise me, Murray, that
my son and this other chap will return
here in two-and-one-half hours?”
Murray nodded his head in imme-
diate assent. “I’ll promise you that
they'll return to you in that time. If
they don’t, you can cal] the sheriff.”
Master Detective
Joseph Murray, bertillon expert and
Chief Clerk of the Oregon State Peni-
tentiary, who was an eye-witness to
the most desperate break in that
prison’s history
And then Mr. Newman, an_ honest,
law-abiding citizen, and Tom Murray,
a desperate fugitive from a prison, sol-
emnly shook hands to acknowledge the
agreement.
A few moments later, they started
down the highway. They approached
Oregon City, a hustling little metrop-
olis, over the hill, and they had a look
at the bridge. They were of divided
_ opinion here as to what to do, whether
to go over the bridge there or down
the East side. They had heard that a
chain had been stretched across the
bridge.
Kelley’s haggard and melancholy
face twisted in a mirthless smile. He
rasped harshly:
“Let’s make a go of it and blast it
out with the two guards on either side
of the chain. Let’s shoot our way
through.” Kelley was a determined man.
After a short, hurried conference,
Murray and Willos agreed to this, and
they ordered the boy to drive down and
over the bridge.
Taut with an ominous dread that he
could hardly control, Leslie did as he
was told, and they crossed and came
down on the west side, slipping past
heavily-armed guards, apparently with-
out the slightest suspicion. From there,
they travelled over a detour out be-
yond Sellwood district and into the
city.
Over the entire distance between Ore-
gon City and Portland, they passed
safely thiduah a veritable cordon of
heavily-armed police, and one time
they passed directly by four traffic
officers. Each time they encountered
a traffic officer, there was a little ten-
sion but nothing happened.
After they entered the city limits of
Portland, they passed swarms of uni-
formed officers constantly. In the
Southern part of the city, Leo Wilde
Was sent into a chain grocery store by
Murray to purchase food for the fugi-
tives, and both he and the clerk, who
waited on him, were under the rifles of
Kelley and Willos at all times,
Murray was riding in the front seat
with Leslie. Kelley sat behind him,
young Wilde was in the middle and
Willos was behind the boy. He held a
sawed-off shot-gun in the back of Les-
lie’s neck all the way into Portland. He
did not even take the precaution to
cover it up and it was in plain sight of
anyone who happened to pass.
_ Murray was directing things, and he
instructed young Newman to obey
every traffic regulation, to take no
chance of being intercepted for such an
offense. He told the boy where to go,
and he kept him circling around the
streets ,for many minutes. Leslie real-
ized af once that the fugitive was try-
ing to get him lost by going around
the same block several times. Many
times he saw the same corner and the
same Officers on it, but he maintained
strict silence, and ventured no interro-
gatory remarks.
Murray’s teeth clicked with a curse
as he flung the butt of a cigarette in a
cascading stream of sparks from the
car.
“TE Wwe can make our getaway from
here tonight, in the morning we
will be all clear.” 7
The boy heard that remark, but it
didn’t mean much to him. He couldn't
realize the strain that is borne by
hunted men. He just kept his eyes
glued to the front and drove the little
Chevrolet wherever Murray told him
to put it. He was obeying every order.
Finally Murray said:
“Take us to Tenth and Washington
Streets, and when you get back home
tell your father you left us there.” __
The boy nodded that he understood.
The convict then told him where to
go, and he went. At the right streets,
the fugitives unloaded, and Leslie drove
away. He was around the corner and
on his way home at forty miles an
hour. As soon as he and Wilde were
alone in the car, his taut nerves almost
broke, Although he consciously willed
™
30 The Master
Something had gone wrong with the distributor, but Mur-
ray was unaware of this. All three of the fugitives became
very angry, and then Murray, with wrath blazing in his
eyes, openly accused the boys of tampering with the car
in some way. Finally, it got to working, however, and they
continued on down the Pacific highway toward Oregon
City.
It was five o’clock Monday morning now, and suddenly
the jarring thought entered Murray’s mind that it was be-
coming too light to remain on the much-travelled Pacific
highway with safety. He ordered the car stopped, and after
a short conference, the fugitives decided to turn off on a
side-road nearby, which goes to New Era, Oregon.
A little while after this, they pulled up to Mr. C. L. New-
man’s house, which lay a little off the highway on another
side road. The house, a three-room affair, built of rough
weather-boarding, and almost completely surrounded by a
thick foliage of trees, attracted Tom Murray’s attention
immediately,
“Say, fellows, there would sure be a swell place to ‘hole
up’ for today,” he said, directing his gaze to Kelley and
Willos. “That would give us a chance to get these damn
posses off our trail. What do you think of it?”
Kelley and Willos gazed hard at the house for a moment
in deep deliberation, then they both nodded firm agree-
ment.
“Good idea. They would never Suspect us of being here
in a million years,” said Willos, warming to the subject.
“But say, Tom, look—there’s somebody sleeping under
that tree over there.”
Murray looked and saw a sleeping figure under the trees,
and then he shrugged, the gesture of superb indifference.
“He won't be very long,” he said. “Blackie, you stay
Pint Alteran Ei
l’s All Here and It's Ali True
| InN - > Ais
Detective
here in the car and keep a watch on these birds, and Kelley
and | will go over and get this yahoo.”
The “yahoo” out under the trees was Leslie, Newman’s
seventeen-year-old son. The boy didn’t like to sleep under
a roof during the hot summer months, and he had his bed
out in the yard, under some trees. It was just about day-
light when he was awakened by the noise of an automobile
as it came up a hill, near his home. He was still sleepy,
however, and did not move until he was rudely shocked
from his pleasant coma, when he heard a strange voice say:
“Gee, Kelley, he’s only a kid.”
The boy looked up and his heart bounded when he saw
a man, who he later identified as Murray, standing over
hi with a rifle i in his hand.
“All right, son,” Murray said, grinning amiably. “Just
stay in bed and don’t move, and we won't hurt you.’
MURRAY then went through a window on the south side
of the house to effect his entry. Kelley took up his
post at the west door, and Willos remained in the car,
alertly keeping guard over the four youngsters they had
kidnapped at Monitor.
After Murray had crawled through a screen window into
the house, he found himself in the dining room. From
there, he opened a bedroom door a few inches, and saw
Mrs. Isabell Newman asleep in bed. Murray awakened her
by calling out:
“I am Tom Murray, lady. Hurry up and get dressed
and come out.”
Mrs. Newman opened her eyes and stared at him, so
frightened she could hardly think coherently. Almost un-
consciously, she called to her husband, her voice filled with
incredulity and shock.
OL Xx. No. 139. eee
~PORTL AND. OREGON, TUESDaY.
AUGUST Ts, 1925, —TWENTY PAGES, ~ PRICE TWO CENTS Halse Fee
HUNTED CONVICTS INVADE
PORTLAND AND DISAPPEAR
mV. (iE
| wenatrs beside which they affixed their finger-prints.
Fugitioe Fain Vake Their W ay ae Very an of City YOUTH, ATRIL LEPOINT,
AaoY E- Sia Kelly. Tom Murray and Jame: Willos, fugitive convuts, ‘hess dash eh ray ed he into the heart of Portland Meodey
Ane. Below at left—Leslie Newman of New Ere, who was compelled to drive the fugit the ently. In the center—Charles Newman, who
F with other members of the Newman family and with Ottod_ucht, Lawrence Jacobs, Leo W de pes Toe Lichte of Monitor were held as hostages while
the escapes spent the day at the Newman farm Monday. whither they compelled Lucht, Jacobs, Wilde and Lichte to drive them in Jacobs’ car from
fossa: Sunday night. Below at sight-—facssmile pf-the amazing siory of their an dictated to Charles ve by Murray, showing the convic fe
PRICES
Wee Search Every Uk aly Lair
@f Convicts; Roads. Bri idges
Guarded: Mary Clues Flashed
bat Fail; Bombs an d Shotguns
enw
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ae
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My!
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FROM NEWERA nae
Murray, Keliy and Willos es Seize Farm Home, Specd Bay The
* then Foree Boy to Convey Them to Portland Downtown
ners Four Card Players at Monitor Previously Kideaped a
Taken in Stolen a to Newman Places Police Scour ©
By Larry “Smyth
Casting defiance in the face of the Port thin ™
‘bureau, the three escaped con
Murray, E
into Portland Monday
car at Broadway: and Couch »t
Even Harry Tracy and his
showed such bravado as the trio of dexpers
broke through the sorta ff manhunter is ate
rion county and came intu the ©
ot then shortly after they had held up a cu
‘room and confectionery store in Monitor, hu ebay
rrese
isis so
“The Portland Journal” of August 18th, 1925, six days after the escape, telling of the daring entry of the three fugitives
into Portland, where hundreds of possemen and uniformed policemen were on the watch for them day and night
Seas ee A
April, 1933
those who had dropped out of sight,
found themselves the targets for bullets
and attempted stabbings.
Twice gunmen shot up the pool hall
of Salvatore Mastrianni, solltather to
little Billy, and the second time woun-
ded him four times although a police-
man was on duty somewhere in the
place.
The climax came on December 18th,
a few days after the Cappelanos and
Pettiti were placed on trial, with the
State demanding the death penalty.
Ole Scully, one of the principal wit-
nesses against Pettiti, was brutally
beaten to death with a baseball bat by
four men, and death made certain by
several bullets,
O’ the same day Tony Percento of
Joliet, prepared to give testimony
linking the Cappelanos to Pettiti, was
shot and killed within thirty minutes
after he had been served with a sub-
poena to come to Chicago and testify
the following day.
The State, doggedly going ahead
with the prosecution, also was threat-
ened. Policemen, state’s attorneys and
even Judge Robert E. Genzel, who was
hearing the case, received threats of
death. In the courtroom witnesses com-
plained that the dreaded “death sign”
of the Mafia was being made to them,
even while they were on the stand.
Police and deputy sheriffs thronged
the court and the hallways outside as
guards, Everyone admitted to the trial
was searched at the door for weapons.
Fred Pettiti, brother of Angelo, was
arrested on a charge of intimidating
witnesses.
A. Frank Ranieri, pale as death and
visibly frightened, nevertheless took the
stand to tell of his dealings with Pet-
titi. Little Billy, more composed than
his father, piped out a detailed story
4
~
The Master Detective
of his experiences and “put the finger”
on the Cappelanos. Even with many of
its principal witnesses missing, the State
went ahead building up the case upon
which it demanded death sentences for
all three.
Pettiti took the stand to retell his
old story that he had mixed into the
affair only as a friend of Ranieri. The
Capellanos followed him to declare
they had acted under compulsion. All
three were badly shaken under cross-
examination, contradicted themselves
and A gy refused to answer questions
at all.
The jury found Pettiti and Andrew
Capellano guilty but acquitted ‘young
Tony. Judge Genzel-sentenced the con-
victed men to 25 years each in Joliet
prison and they were rushed there at
once under heavy guard.
Three and one half years have passed
since Billy Ranieri was kidnaped that
summer day, but the case is far from
dead. The identities of the two men
who seized him and carried him to the
Cappelano farm were learned long ago
and the law, relentless in this case, has
trailed them across the continent and
back again and on three occasions has
come within minutes of laying a heavy
hand upon them.
Pettiti and Capellano are in Joliet
but the same forces which sought by
terrorism to prevent them going there
are still active—with revenge as: the
motive now.
The shadow of terror which hung
over the Ranieri home from the day of
Pettiti’s arrest never has been dissi-
pated. For eighteen months the police
guard over it and its tenants was main-
tained unbroken. At intervals it has
been renewed following the receipt of
new threats by Ranieri.
Even as this is written a. policeman
watches it night and day.
No Prison Could Hold Him
(Continued from page 31)
Holman’s brain, instead of Kelley.
(Note: It is the author's belief that
Murray’s principal object in citing this
last variation, was to protect Crowbar
Kelley, to absolve him from all blame
during the shooting fray).
In contrast with Murray’s and Wil-
los’ apparent cheerfulness, Kelley was
morose and nervous. He was carrying
a small quantity of strychnine on his
person. Now that Jones, his pal, was
dead, he was not taking much interest
in the proceedings, except an intense
desire to get away.
“Snap out of the gloom, Crowbar,”
Murray admonished him during the
day.
Exposing the poisonous alkaloid, and
fighting desperately to gain control of
his twitching, jerking lips, Kelley mut-
tered:
“They'll never take me alive. They
got my buddy, Oregon, and they'll
have to bump me before I’ll go back.”
Murray laughed quietly, shrugged
his shoulders as if to throw off the
weight of his pal’s deprecations.
“You ain't got nothing on me,” he
said, drawing a 32-20 bullet from the
inner recesses of one pocket. ‘“Here’s a
slug for me in case I get cornered.”
“And here’s one for me,” echoed
Blackie Willos, a glint of battle in his
veiled glance as he looked up.
URRAY, or Kelley, or Willos could
not foresee what cruel fate was in
store for them. If they had been able
to, they would have, in all probabili-
ties, ended their lives then and there.
Murray informed Mr. Newman con-
fidentially that it was his firm belief
that Kelley, in his sullen, morose and
discontented frame of mind, would
commit suicide.
Kelley did evince intense interest,
however, in the many false reports that
the newspapers carried concerning the
fugitives whereabouts. Once, he lifted
his brows inquiringly at Murray, who
was chuckling, and then he asked:
“What are you grinning about?”
Murray opened his mouth and roared
mirthlessly. “Grinning at some of the
crazy pipe dreams the Portland news-
papers are printing about us,” he re-
plied. “Listen to this—it’s hot.”
“Haw, haw, haw,” laughed Kelley
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April, 1933
against it, his body trembled slightly
from the experience he had_ just been
through. He pressed his foot down
hard on the accelerator to obtain the
maximum speed of the little car. Some
few miles down the highway, a traffic
officer tried to stop him, but was forced
to jump out of the way of the onrush-
ing machine.
For Leslie Newman was frightened;
frightened more now than he had ever
been when with the convicts. He real-
ized that if he stopped, as nervous as
he was, he might have reported the
whole incident, and those threats may
have been carried out.
The papers had prominently men-
tioned throughout their many stories of
the escape and flight that Blackie Wil-
los was the weak sister of the desperate
trio. But young Newman’s definite im-
pression at that time was that he was
anything but that. That repulsive shot-
eun muzzle that Willos had kept
pressed to the nape of his neck had
stamped an_ indelible remembrance on
the boy’s mind, and he claimed that
he would have rather met either Mur-
ray or Kelley than this swarthy-faced
member.
Mr. Newman's opinion varied from
that of his son’s, in that, he believed
that Murray was the most dangerous
of the three fugitives. During a life-
time of meeting people and analyzing-
them. he had developed the faculty of
judging human nature at a glance. He
said:
“TAFOM MURRAY was one of the
shrewdest individuals | have ever
come across. He was a dangerous chap.
In all his story of their flight, not once
did he tel] of one instance where Kelley
did any shooting. Kelley was always
lagging behind—but not Murray. He
was the real leader of the trio and he
was some leader, believe me. I wouldn't
have wanted to meet up with him in a
tight corner, whether he was armed or
not. | would say that he was one of
the most dangerous individuals that
was ever in the country. He said he
didn’t want to kill anybody, although
admitting that he murdered Sweeney.
but he had a killer’s eye, and he wou d
have shot anyone in an instant who
would have tried to thwart his free-
dom, take it from me.”
Warden Dalrymple, of the peniten-
tiarv, severely criticized Mr. Newman
for failing to report the three convicts
presence Immediately to the prison off-
cials. Mr. Newman made the following
reply to the Warden:
“f could have easily escaped a half-
a-dozen times that day. I could have
quite easily notified the authorities so
that the convicts could have been cap-
tured.
“But those three desperadoes had my
wife, my two sons and my daughter as
hostages, and the first overt act would
have meant the instant murder of my
family.
“My wife and my children mean
everything to me. Penitentiary officials
had Murray, Willos and Kelley in cells,
away from firearms. They let them
escape, let them steal guns from the
very prison itself, let them slip through
a cordon of guards, and let them come
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SALEM, OREGON, Aco
Lr ce orn
TOM MURRAY
CAUGHT ALIVE
Leader of ‘Escaped Convict-Killers Is
Captured In
Clever
Hotel
Ruse
By a
Part FivE—CoNCLUSION
Chief thundered pres-
ently. “This guy must
be crazy.”
Officer Pilling shrugged. “I’ve already told you
that I think he’s a nut,” he said. “But just to be 100 per
cent safe, | brought him down to Headquarters for further
questioning.”
The Chief’s face hardened perceptibly as he turned his
attention to the prisoner.
“Well, what’s your game? Come on, tell us about it.”
At Compton’s words, a strange canny expression came
over the man’s face. He steadied himself with great effort.
“My name is not Williams,” he said. “My name is Phillip
Carson, I’m an amateur detective from Portland, and I’ve
been reading about this escaped convict, Tom Murray.
1 saw him once when | was on a visit down at the ‘stir,’
and believing that he is a menace to society, I made up
my mind right in Portland that | was going to get him
dead or alive.”
Chief Compton shot him a puzzled glance. “We’re not
interested in you,” he admonished. “Who is this man down
in the Savoy Hotel?”
The fear in Carson’s eyes was almost blotted out with
his eagerness to tell. Confession trembled on his lips. The
Massive headlines which appeared in the Salem Chief knew that he neede
Capitol Journal of August 22nd, 1925, telling of
, ” . the end of the last of Tom Murray’s many spec- °
- HAT’S that? the tacular escapes from the Oregon State Prison waited.
suasion; it would con
Carson then related ho
met Murray in the b
Vancouver, how he had chummed up to him to
confidence in the car where some forty other k
the cinder trail were talking of the escape. He to!
Tom Murray, half-unconscious from weariness,
pletely taken in by him.
“At Centralia here, all of the bums unloaded
and Murray quickly separated from the rest to {
empty stomachs with some warm chuck and gene
over the burg. Our first instinct was to get a
stick up some small café and escape, but Murra
sleepy, hungry and tired. So we bought a swell
I told him to refresh himself with some sleep wh
logued the town. That was just a part of my ga
Portland with the intention of capturing Murray
succeeded.”
Carson’s story seemed so unreal and he wo
habitually insane expression on his countenance
_ story was half-beélieved on that one point. For
that miracles do sometimes happen.
The officers decided that Pilling should reti
rooming house with Carson, pose as a crook, get
the man in the hotel to ascertain if he really
no per-
if he
he had
-car at
sain his
ghts of
of how
is com-
and me
up our
lly look
ar, then
was too
eed and
] cata-
I left
ind I’ve
such a
hat the
is true
to the
look at
is Tom
45
68
to my home and terrorize me and my
family.
“Tt did what I think was right. I
don’t care what the Warden or the
Deputies of the prison think of my
conduct. If they had paid more atten-
tion to their business, that thing would
have never happened.
“T made an agreement with the con-
victs when they left my place that if
my boy and the young fellow from
Monitor, who were taken as hostages,
were returned to me alive, within two-
and-one-half hours, | would not turn in
an alarm until at the end of that time.
“I kept my word. As soon as my boy
stepped inside the house on his return,
word was dispatched to the Portland
Police Department and Chief of Police
Jenkins was summoned from his bed to
organize his force for a search. | had
been protecting my family and I didn’t
want my boy shot because | had failed
to keep my word.
“Because | kept my agreement, my
family has nothing to: fear from those
desperate men.” ;
Even the notorious Harry Tracy and
his equally notorious pal, Merrill, never
showed such bravado as this trio of
desperadoes who entered Oregon's chief
city and openly defied Portland.
TOM MURRAY was still wearing
his prison garb, with the exception of
a blue jumper and a faded blue shirt,
with glaring, red numbers plastered all
over, when he left Leslie Newman’s
car at Tenth and Washington Streets.
He even had on his heavy prison shoes,
although a light gray cap was tilted at
a devil-may-care angle on his head.
His nerve was tremendous, He was tak-
ing every chance, and was gambling his
very life with his utterly reckless dai-
ing, determined to bluff his way
through a veritable swarming beehive
of heavily armed officers who were
looking for his and his two fugitive
companions’ blood.
Chief of Police Jenkins, after being
summoned from his bed, rushed to
headquarters, and called out every
available man on the force. Hotels
and rooming-houses were minutely
combed, as well as every place in the
city where men could possibly hide.
Sawed-off shot-guns, machine-guns,
rifles and heavy-calibered revolvers
were much in evidence as the blue-
coated forces were mobilized. But the
elusive Tom Murray and his pals con-
tinued to evade their feverish pursuers,
through almost uncanny strategy, and
their whereabouts were just as pro-
found a mystery as before.
The days rolled slowly by, days that
were crammed with tremendous excite-
ment as hundreds of so-called red-hot
clues poured in, and when run down,
only proved to be false and unfounded.
Then fate took a hand.
Phillip F. Carson, an ordinary va-
grant and police tool, had been arrested
in Portland, on a vagrancy charge,
about the time the Murray hunt was at
its height, and all of the posses of
manhunters had been centralized in
that region. Carson was nothing more
than a Police Department stool-pigeon.
True, he was a petty criminal whose
depredations on society usually con-
The
sisted of a burglarized room, a few fic-
titious checks, or a petit larceny rap,
but he was a criminal that the higher
type of crooks carefully avoided. For
he was known as a “cat”’—a man who
would go to the “bulls” and betray his
associates without batting an eye.
He had served several jail sentences
in Portland, and this time when he was
ushered into the Police Court, Judge
Elkwell gave him a sixty-day sentence,
but suspended the sentence, however,
with the curt dismissal to “get out of
town and stay out.” ‘
He immediately took the Judge at
his word, and scurrying across the wide
Columbia River with all possible haste,
he went to Vancouver, Washington.
This was on Friday, August 2lst,
and sometime after six o'clock in the
evening, he entered the railroad yards
of that city in search of an outgoing
freight. Vancouver was no place for
him. Being only two miles across the
placid stream from Portland, he was
well-known by the criminals and police
alike, and thoroughly despised by both.
Master Detective
Plagiarism
Stories have been submitted to this
magazine which are copies that have
appeared in other magazines.
Anyone submitting a plagiarized
story through the mail, and receiving
and accepting remuneration there-
for, is guilty of Federal offense in
using the mails to defraud.
The publishers of THE MASTER
DETECTIVE are eager—as are all
reputable publishers—to stamp out
this form of literary theft and piracy,
and are advising all magazines, from
which such stories have been copied,
of such plagiarism and are offering to
co-operate with the publishers thereof
to punish the guilty persons.
Notice is hereby given to all who
submit stories that the same must
be the original work of the author.
At 6:45 p. M. he crawled into a box-car
of a fast freight, bound for Seattle.
There were some thirty or forty ho-
boes inside this car, the usual run of
wandering, restless vagrants, “mooch-
ing cigarette snipes” and telling each
other of the “hot bulls” scattered at
the different division points. Suddenly
their conversation turned to the cur-
rent topic of the day, which was on
everyone’s lips, the topic of Tom Mur-
ray and his desperate flight for free-
dom.
Everyone was chattering his personal
opinion of the break, seemingly trying
to outdo the others as a conversation-
alist—all but one. This fellow, a
blonde-headed chap, with a haggard
and drawn face, who had been sitting
on his haunches over in a dark corner
of the car, slowly raised up and came
over to where Phillip Carson was sit-
ting.
“Got a match, buddy?” he asked of
Carson, in a casual tone.
Carson nodded and handed his box
of matches to the stranger. The fel-
low struck a match and cupped his
hands around the flame in front of his
face to light his cigarette. The light
brought his worn and hollow-eyed fea-
tures clearly to view.
Carson felt there was something
strangely familiar about that drawn
face, the set of the well-shaped jaw, the
gleam of the hard, gray eyes.
“Thanks,” the chap said, and started
to walk back to the corner in the far-
end of the car.
Suddenly Carson’s heart bounded;
then almost stood still. He could
scarcely believe his eyes.
“Wait,” he said in a tense whisper.
“T want to see you a minute.”
The other turned, his eyes narrowed
with instinctive suspicion. “What do
you want?” ;
Carson sidled up close. He smiled
crookedly. “You're Tom Murray,” he
Whispered hoarsely. “I know you.”
Murray’s eyes, steel-colored and
sharp as gimlet points, sized up the
man before him. He said nothing, but
his right hand made a_ perceptible
movement under his coat.
“I’m a friend, Tom,” Carson went on
hurriedly, speaking in a low voice, as
if he had to save himself with words
before disaster could overtake him.
“You don’t have to be suspicious of
me. I know just what you've been
through, and what you're facing if you
get caught. I’m a crook myself, just
got run out of Portland today by a
Judge, and I want to help you to get
er
urray’s eyes softened. He turned a
weary gaze on Carson. For some rea-
son, he trusted this man at once.
“You really want to help me to get
away?” he asked.
It is peculiar that Tom Murra
would make a remark like that to this
man. Hefwas too shrewd an individual
ordinarily; to have felt instant confi-
dence in @ man of Carson’s type. For
Carsoh’s features betrayed just what
he was. Perhaps it was that Murray
was so tired, so worn of body and lone-
some of soul that he just wanted some-
one to pour his troubles out to. Why
he ever chose to open up his heart to
this man is a deep mystery, but never-
theless, he did just that. He told Car-
son everything.
MURRAY told Carson that after he,
Willos and Kelley had arrived in
Portland shortly before ten o’clock, the
Monday night previous, they imme-
diately stole an automobile and drove
to The Dalles, Oregon. From. there,
they then crossed the Columbia River
on a ferry, over to White Salmon,
Washington, where they had been hid-
ing in the woods and brush.
He said that about three o’clock on
the afternoon of August 20th, he and
Blackie Willos had had a fight. There
had been an old baggage car near the
Station at White Salmon, and Willos
wanted to get into it and try to get
some clothing to replace his convict at-
tire. Murray objected vigorously, but
Willos, having been a railroad man at
one time in his career, climbed insicie
anyway, and when he emerged from
the car, Murray demanded to know
Phi in the hell did you get in there
ors
April, 1°
lo
ol youl
you.”
There
words \
and th
Murray
and Ke
Salmon
themsel
Inste:
some ul
Columk
couver,
Wher
Central
miles i
gested
there, a
dump 1
about 1
agreed
further
to Tace
other
would
and th
to Tor
York, t
Ot
stoc
fidence,
seemed
tive’s
graynes
out of
by tens
a
LT
1€1
which \
ray, to
tice.
As w
Mr. Ge
tralia,
tion, al
exciteir
partme
Abou
Compt
ing W
patroln
station
man in
“Wh
half-jo:
ened; |
this gu:
believe
you.”
The
ahead,
a ie,
town,”
proach
a man
As the
pect tc
street
‘There
“Tt
street,
tauran
ont
ite
”
trick.
The
aed
KELLY & WILLOS, whites, hanged ORSP Marion) 4/20/1928
~<a
b } ‘ j |
} H Gace L. Barner, Mayor of Centralia, Washington, Robert “Bob” Stratton, a police officer in Centralia,
i who ; iyed a leading réle in the capture of Tom Washington, at the:time of Tom Murray’s sensa-
Murre on August 22nd, 1925, after Murray shot his tional capture. Stratton was one of the officers that
way out of Oregon State Prison ‘ 4 made the arrest
u 1 & & :
wait. Bias *
7
By The story so far:
"YOM MURRAY, desperado, was first sentenced to prison “y
|| for bank robbery in Florence, Oregon. He escaped, only
| | q | to be turned in by a woman he trusted. Embittered by a
| i long sentence, he made friends with other inmates and to-
| yether they planned and executed several daring jail-
breaks; but they were caught and brought back each time.
| ° - :
| Convict No. 9256 After several such experiences Murray planned a desperate
| break with “Oregon” Jones, “Crowbar” Kelley, and
. Blackie” Willos. The break was carried through, but
Oregon State Prison “Oregon” Jones and two guards were killed during its att
course. The three fugitives used the summer home of
Charles Newman as a hideaway and then moved into
Portland where they broke up following a disagreement. ov
|
| Con cluding the astound- Yom Murray departing from Willos and Kelley. Murray
then went to Vancouver and stowed away in a box-car. Ca:
Another drifter in the same box-car, who called himself bee
* ° ry
| ng story of convict f| OFit Carson, recognized Murray and suggested that they get
es off at Centralia and stage a stick-up. In Centralia Carson an
t | M. : O S y) left Murray in a hotel room and went out on the street m\
i | u rays regon ‘ tate only to be picked up as a suspicious character. At the de
solice station he became frightened and told authorities
m4 2 M » “Ss gw : pe
| pre on s notorious ESCAPE that his companion is none other than Tom Murray,
w | escaped convict who is being hunted all over the state.
plotter
e story continues: his
i 44
April, 1933
Willos instant reply had been. “None
of your damn business. To hel] with
you.”
There had been some more angry
words which passed between the men,
and then the three agreed to split.
Murray was to go East, and Willos
and Kelley were to remain at White
Salmon for awhile, and then hit out by
themselves, with Willos as the leader.
Instead of going East, Murray, for
some unknown reason, came down the
Columbia River and went to Van-
couver, Where Carson met him.
When the freight train arrived at
Centralia, Washington, some ninety
miles from Vancouver, Carson sug-
gested to Murray that they unload
there. as he said that he knew “a swell
dump to heist” which would net them
about three hundred dollars. Murray
agreed to this suggestion, and_the men
further planned to go from Centralia,
to Tacoma, Washington, and stage an-
other holdup. From Tacoma, they
would make their entry into Canada,
and thence travel across the Dominion
to Toronto, and thence to Buffalo, New
York, back in the states.
Portland
con-
word
O thoroughly had_ this
stool pigeon gained Murray's
fidence, that his every rapid
seemed to breathe new life in the fugi-.
After awhile. the
The glitter went;
out of Murray’s eyes, to be succeeded
by tense eagerness and hopefulness.
We will leave Murray and Carson
for a moment to relate a few facts of
another phase of the thrilling climax
which was rapidly closing around Mur-
ray, to terminate his flight from jus-
tice.
As was his habit after an evening out,
Mr. George L. Barner, Mayor of Cen-
tralia, stopped at the local Police Sta-
tion, anxious to share in on any of the
excitement or thrills of his police de-
partment.
About midnight, Police Chiet James
Compton and Mayor Barner were talk-
tive’s worn body.
grayness left his face.
ing with the desk sergeant, when
patrolman C. D. Pilling entered the
station with a small, worried-looking
man in his custody.
‘What have you got therer” the
Chief queried jokingly. “Looks like a
‘hype’.
“Or a nut.” the patrolman agreed
half-jocularly. Suddenly he straight-
ened: his face became serious. “Chief,
this guy tells me a queer story. I don't
believe it, but I’m going to tell it to
you.”
“The Chief grinned -amiably.
ahead. Charlie. I’m listening.”
“1 was standing on a street down-
town.” Pilling said, “when a logger ap-
proached me and said that he had seen
4 man trying to steal an automobile.
As the logger was describing the sus-
pect to me, two other men crossed the
street near us, and the logger said:
‘There’s the man now.’
“T told the logger to wait on the
street, and | trailed the pair to a res-
taurant, the Rialto Cafe. You know
the one I mean, Chief, the small lunch
counter, out of the main business dis-
trict.”
The Chief nodded absently.
“Go
“Yeah,
The
| know, Charlie. Go ahead
“Well, one of the men was this small
guy here. I observed them until after
they had finished eating, and then this
fellow went upstairs to the office of
the Savoy Hotel. The other man, a
husky-built guy waited across the
street, near the cafe. When this man
came down again to the street, he mo-
tioned: for his companion to join him
and they both went back up the stairs.
This looked kind of suspicious to me,
Chief, so I entered the hotel and
looked at the register, on which this
man had signed the names of John and
Billy Williams.
“While I was at the desk conversing
with the clerk, this man came out of
the room and started down to the
street. | guzzled him at the head of
the stairs, and as I’m not wearing my
uniform tonight, I easily engaged him
in a conversation, This guy likes to
talk when he gets started, and he in-
quired right away what I do for a
living. I told him I was in town to help
decorate the streets for the fair.” (The
Southwest Washington Fair.)
THE Chief and Mayor Barner both
laughed heartily at this last remark.
“How'd you ever come to think of
telling him that?” Compton asked.
The prisoner shifted uneasily on his
feet, and cocked a fishy eye on the
Chief.
Pilling disregarded the interruption
and went on with his story. “This guy
replied right away that he followed
that line also, and he wanted to know
if I could get him in to help doll up
the town, He became so chummy and
talked so much that I became more
suspicious of him, and convinced that
he wasn’t right. I then told him | was
an officer, and ordered him to step into
the next doorway to be shook down.
He didn’t have a rod or anything on
him, so I took him up the street to see
if the logger could identify him.
“You know Doan, the logger, Chief.
Well, he said this was the guy he had
seen, so we all started back to the hotel
to see if he could identify this man’s
partner.
“This guy gets awful nervous then,
when I start questioning him about his
pal upstairs. He gets in a high emo-
tional pitch, and in a quaking voice,
he asks me if I can get ten or a dozen
men quick. He told me the man up-
stairs in the Savoy Hotel is Tom Mur-
ray.”
For a long moment there was only
absolute silence in the room. The
other three officers were staggered at
Pilling’s startling information.
They could hardly believe the story
they had heard. And then. .
Master Detective
”
What sinister surprise has fate in
store for Tom Murray?
Will he be surrounded and appre-
hended by these officers of the law?
Will he die fighting for his free-
dom?
Will he out-think the authorities
again and gain complete and lasting
freedom from prison walls?
Convict No. 9256 continues his
startling story of the man no prison
could hold in the May MASTER DE-
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PrP TTI iii tii iy
Stretching the ropes used to hang
two of the convicts who joined
photograph was taken on
“Blackie” Willos and “Crowbar” Kelley,
Tom Murray in his last escape. This
the evening previous to the hanging
thrust the revolver which Pilling had
given him, under his belt, stepped
quickly to the door, and opened it.
“Well, let’s go and stick up this
road-house, and get it over with,” he
said harshly.
Pilling and Carson followed him out
in the hall, and at the head of the
stairs, the informer suddenly stopped.
“I’ve got to go in the toilet for a
minute, Tom,” he said, planning to
absent himself from the actual capture.
“But Pll be right down.”
Murray turned to him, a thoughtful,
sort of puzzled look on his face, but he
said nothing. He nodded agreement.
Pilling and Murray then went down
to the swinging doors that opened on
the sidewalk. There, the fugitive
stopped for a brief pause, sizing up
Barner’s Nash car, with alert, intelli-
gent eyes. After a moment, he turned
to Pilling and muttered:
“We'll get rid of him after the stick-
up.
They: stepped out on the street, and
just before Mayor Barner got the door
of the car open, Murray, whose arms
were hanging loosely at his sides, was
seized in a vise-like grip by the husky
pseudo wrestler, around the body,
just below the elbows. Mayor Barner
scrambled from the car, and springing
to the convict’s hips, he could feel the
large revolver~held in the front of his
waist, by his belt. The other officers
quickly closed in, and after a short but
desperate struggle, Murray announced :
“T guess you guys have got me all
right. Let go my neck.”
The officers allowed him to straighten
ups, but they maintained a grip of steel
on his arms. His eyes flashed omi-
nously and a bitter Jaugh welled from
his taut lips.
”
“WELL, I'll be damned,” he gritted.
“1 have thought of about every
way | could be taken in—but this.
Pretty clever, boys, pretty clever.”
Murray hesitated a moment, his keen
gray eyes roving over the group of
officers. “There is just one thing I
want to know,’ he continued. “Did
that fellow upstairs have anything to
do with this?”
Without thinking, Mayor Barner
blurted: “Who is that fellow with you,
anyway?”
Tom shrugged his shoulders with a
weary gesture. He smiled wanly.
“Well, that’s for you to find out.”
The revolver was removed from his
waistband, the cuffs quickly snapped
on his wrists, and then all the officers
went down to the station with the
seized fugitive, where his successful cap-
ture had been conspired.
Chief Compton immediately wired
the Warden of the Salem prison, in-
‘forming him of Murray’s apprehen-
sion, and in less than fifteen minutes
the calls (Continued on page 50)
Sen ci a A
“Vm going to hang back when we;
come back out, I’ve got a hunch
there might be some shooting.”
When the men got back to the
room, Pilling had a change of cloth-
ing for Tom, and a new revolver,
fully-loaded, which “Foote” ex-
changed with him. This all won the
fugitive over completely, and it was
agreed that Murray was to be the
leader when they arrived at the road-
house.
Prison Could Hold Him
oe }
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us ea
3 =
The police headquarters
at Centralia, Washing-
ton, where the plan for
capturing the desperate
convict-killer was care-
fully worked out
Pilling was making doubl
now, however, that he showe¢
picion that this man was the |
convict. He was merely con
supposition to Murray, that
lieved he was in company wit
from a “hot job” somewhere
more.
It was now after | a. M.
eis A or aaa
Phillip F. Carson, the
ertain
o sus-
caped
ng his
ie be-
a man
othing
Aurray
informer who
squealed on Tom Murray, and his ‘“‘card histo: y” from the
files of the Portland, Oregon, police. He met Murray in « freight car.
46 The Master Detective
_._—s: The_- Savoy Hotel in 0 Ma ea eh ee :
Centralia, Washington, ‘S=ttvamsessssss
f where Tom Murray
stayed. The police
1
5
0 te
* learned he was staying
here through a notorious
“stool-pigeon”’
"EWAY Sto
Ser RIRAITION WITHOUT WAS
RE
x \
ames 3 FRAN AI SEN TE
Murray. If the man was Murray, then the officers would
_all be ready to go to any means of capturing him. Other
night patrolmen were called in off the street by the signal
of a street light and several Deputy-Sheriffs were hastily
called from Chehalis, three miles away.
The plan was for Carson to introduce Officer Pilling to
Murray, as “Babe” Foote, a local wrestler, who was in
bad with the police department, and with whom he had
already pulled a couple of stickups. It was further agreed
that “Foote” should know of some roadhouse which could
easily be held up, that was a cinch to net several hundred
dollars in cash. He was to convey this information to the
fugitive-convict to gain his confidence. Naturally, there
would have to be a driver, and Pilling’s alert brain imme-
diately found a solution for this. Why not use Mayor
Barner for the taxi-driver?
Barner readily agreed to this. He was looking for thrill-
ing excitement, and perhaps this coming incident would
furnish his adventurous mind all the stimulation he was—
looking for.
Pilling shed his suit, got some old clothes and an old =
hat, discarded his outside shirt, having on only a heavy
undershirt, thus presenting the appearance of just having
crawled out of bed, and the officers and Carson were ready
to go.
BARNER drove to within a few doors of the Savoy
Hotel. Carson and Pilling went up into the place, and
the “informer” gave a knock on the panel of the door.
After what seemed to be an interminable period to the
officer, the door suddenly swung open—and there stood the
much-wanted Murray. Pilling knew in an instant that this
really was their man, and in spite of himself, he felt a
trickle of cold perspiration on his forehead. His quick
eyes noted that the convict’s big revolver lay on a small
table near the bed.
The men stepped inside, the door was closed, and Car-
son introduced “Babe Foote” to Murray. Sudden, tense
silence ensued while the fugitive surveyed the so-called
wrestler from head to foot—painstakingly and thoroughly.
Then he nodded agreement that the man was all right.
And Pilling did look all right. Tall, broad-shouldered
and muscularly-built, with a heavy sweat-shirt over his
= OY Sea AR. Rat gens Oa
torso, he looked just like what he was posing to be, a
seasoned, heavyweight wrestler.
The proposed holdup of the mythical roadhouse was
-explained to Murray and he seemed anxious to get going.
“It won't take long to get a taxi-driver that I can de-
pend on,” Pilling suggested. “I know one—a good egg.”
Murray nodded approvingly. “You get him,” he rasped.
“If he don’t act right, we can bump him off and take his
car.”
Pilling’s eyes were suddenly narrowed with the force
of an illuminating idea. “And I'll get you a new gun,
Tom——’ ‘
Murray’s lips twisted with a sudden, savage snarl.
“Tom?” he exploded, when a wild suspicion leaped to
his mind. “My hame is Billy Williams.”
PILLING gazed confusedly at the convict for a moment,
and then he said steadily. “Pardon me. | thought your
name was Tom Williams. Well, as | was saying, I'll get
you a new gun and plenty of ammunition. We'll be back
in a few minutes.”
As soon as Pilling and Carson reached the other officers
outside, Pilling whispered sharply: “That's him. Oh, that’s
him. There can’t be no mistake.”
Carson’s face had gone pasty white and he said in a
quaking voice: “For God’s sake, don’t mess this thing up,
fellows. Murray would kill me first for the double-cross I
gave him.”
The officers’ brows corrugated as they gazed at the fearful
informer. They nodded understanding.
Chief of Police Compton, then stationed himself a few
feet away from the doorway of the hotel, in the darkness,
with a drawn revolver in his hand. On the other side of
the stairway entrance was a deputy-sheriff. Both were
ready if the plan failed to capture Murray without blood-
shed. Patrolman Bob Stratton, was sent around to the
rear of the hotel to stand guard there, lest this might be
just a clever scheme on the part of Murray and Carson to
procure guns from the officers. They did not trust this in-
former themselves. An eternal double-cross ‘was imprinted
indelibly on his features. They believed it might be his
intentions to shoot Pilling, and then escape to the rear.
Just before they started back upstairs, Carson said:
eT
50
The Master~ Detective
No Prison Could Hold Him
started pouring in from the Portland
newspaper offices for the .facts of the
capture. Murray did not appear to be
downhearted and agreed with the offi-
cers quite obligingly that perhaps it
was for the best that the chase was
over, but it was easy to distinguish
that his true feelings were running. 1n
contrast to this statement. ...
They asked him more questions con-
cerning his companion, but he would
freeze up and inform them that. he
thought it was their business to find
out: such things from another source.
Tom Murray thought he was being true
to a loyal pal, who, he imagine had
escaped from the rear entrance of the
hotel. ‘
Murray asked Officer Stratton if he
would like to have a souvenir, and
Stratton replied that he would. The
convict then told him to go back to the
hotel, where he had been captured, and
get his coat. He explained that the
shells with which he had done the kill-
ing were in one of the pockets.
STRATTON got the coat and brought ©
it to the jail. From one of the pock-
ets, he took three shells, one of them be-
ing a 30-30 loaded rifle shell. The others
were empty 32-20 revolver shells.
Stratton handed the empty shells to
Murray, who gave them back to the
officer, saying:
“You may have them. One of them
killed Sweeney, and the other one
wounded Savage.”
Murray said that he had five shots
in the gun when he started out, and
that he didn’t waste any lead. He said
he got Sweeney with one shell, Sav-
age with another, a third he lost some-
where in the brush and the other two
were in the gun when we took it from
him.
It was decided that the best plan
would be to take the desperado on to
Portland on the 3:45 morning train,
rather than wait later, as it was feared
he might possibly have some friends or
admirers who might attempt to wrest
him from the officers, should they know
of his capture. So Tom Murray was
hustled quietly out of Centralia with-
out over half-a-dozen_ persons being
aware even of his seizure before he
left town. Word was wired ahead to
the Portland Police, however, and when
they arrived in that city, early editions
of the various papers had the complete
story, and many hundreds of. persons
were impatiently waiting at the Union
Station to get a glimpse of the noted
desperado. He had been furnished a
big steak before he had left Centralia,
but when the officers arrived at Port-
land, Tom said he had one request, and
that was to be taken into the Depot
lunch room for breakfast. This re-
quest was granted and he enjoyed a
large order of ham and eggs there.
En route to Portland, a telegram was
received from one of the papers to
have the party, including Carson, the
informer, ready for a flashlight picture
at Kalama, Washington, In their con-
versations over the wires with the re-
_ (Continued from page 48)
porters and officers in Oregon, they had
given Carson a lion’s share of the
credit for what had happened.
Carson, who had been riding in a
coach, directly behind the one where
Murray was handcuffed to Pilling,
could not resist the lure of getting into
the newspaper picture, so at Kalama,
he strolled out on the platform, to join
the group. Murray saw. him imme-—
diately, and he just stared for a_mo-
ment, hardly believing his eyes. Then
the full import of this man’s presence
came jarring into his madly racing
brain. In a flash the sickly truth struck
him that his so-called pal had insti-
gated his downfall. -
His:;slate-grayy eyes puckered to
steel-colored slits, as he flashed his
nemesis a look of deadly hatred.
“Well, you dirty, double-cross-
ing——,” he cried; with curses fairly
frothing from his lips, “I may never
get you myself, but I have friends that
will. I wouldn’t trade places with you,
damn you, if I was going to be hung
tomorrow.”
Carson went sick with fear, his face
turned a sickly green, and not being the
man to stand the furious oaths. that
were being heaped upon him, he rushed
back inside, shivering as if afflicted
with agées-.promptly forgetting all
about his picture.
When the officers were again back
in their seats, Mayor Barner asked
Tom what he knew about this fellow,
and Murray stated: .
“If | were to tell you all I know
about him, he would hang, but that is
not my code. You fellows are officers.
I am a crook. If you want to know
anything about him, you will be able.
to find it out for yourself.”
F course, Murray knew_ nothing
about this informer. Feeling akin
to him as he would some curious and
repulsive animal, the convict, it seemed
was merely assuming that Carson was
a fit subject to be hung and it is not
‘unlikely that his assumption was cor-
rect.
From Portland, the officers took
Murray direct to Salem, fifty-two miles
away, being followed closely by liter-
ally dozens of cars, filled with police or
curious civilians. As the desperado
stepped from the car.at the prison, he
was handcuffed and heavily manacled
to J. R. Carey, head chapel pure. and
Felix Herriford, Deputy-Sheriff of
Lewis county, Washington.
The convict smiled thinly as he was
greeted by more than a score of news-
pater men, officials and photographers.
everal photographs were taken. For
the most part, he kept his eyes directed
glumly toward -the, ground, but he
raised his head to exchange greetings
with one of the female Federal pris-
oners.
“You made a good try anyway,
Tom,” the woman said, a sympathetic
catch to her voice.
A queer. grin cracked his lips. “But
not good enough,” he replied: in a low
tone, looking up to her,
4
The party escorting the prisoner was
met at the head of the stairs in the ad-
ministration building by the Warden
and taken to the office, which was
crowded with waiting newspaper men.
“Do you want to talk with these
people?” Warden Dalrymple asked.
“1 haven’t anything to say and it
wouldn’t do any good, but if they want
es to me—all right,” Murray re-
plied. '
No questions were asked and he was
led away to his cell, a cell placed in a
row reserved for condemned men on
the East side of the North wing cell
block, virtually beneath the very hole
from which he and his companions had
made their escape, and a cell he was
never to leave alive.
Some fifteen hours after Tom Mur-
ray had been placed ina cell in Cen-
tralia, his two companions, Crowbar
Kelley and Blackie Willos were sur-
prised and taken without resistance by
a posse of Multnomah County officials,
ending a ten day hunt for the fugitives.
The two fugitives’ capture was
effected largely through the aid of the
informant, Phillip Carson, who, after
having mentally catalogued the infor-
mation given him by Murray, that
Kelley and Willos had been hiding in .
the woods near White Salmon, Wash-
ington, instantly conveyed this knowl-
edge to the officers, and the posses were
centered in that district.
TOM Murray had _ unconsciously
been the direct cause of his two pal’s
apprehension, through his disclosing of
intimate facts to Carson.
First, Sheriff Hurlburt, of Mult-
nomah County, Oregon, had received
word that a store had been looted and
an automobile stolen at Bingen, Wash-
ington, on the night of August 21st.
Then, coupled right on this report was
another one, vastly more important. It
was the wire telling of Murray’s cap-
ture, and his information regarding his
two companions’ palpable whereabouts.
Sheriff Hurlburt put two and two to-
gether. He got a hunch and decided to
put it on trial. He knew that Bingen
and White Salmon were approximate
neighbor towns in the State of Wash-
ington.
_ While these towns were not under his
jurisdiction, Hurlburt decided to in-
vestigate. His hunch resulted in the
dispatch of a posse composed_ of
Deputy-Sheriffs Christopherson, Rex-
ford and Jackson and Constable Gloss,
all of Multnomah County, to that lo-
cality, August 22nd. :
About four o'clock that afternoon,
the four officers, while driving along
the Yakima-Glendale road, saw where
a machine had recently been driven
_from the road into the brush of a deep
canyon. Leaving their own machine,
they slipped quietly down the canyon
and found two haggard, heavy-eyed
men eating lunch, whom they instantly
recognized as the escaped convicts. The
officers quickly surrounded the men,
covered them with rifles, and then
(Continued on page 52)
KELLEY, Ellsworth & WILLOS, James, whites, hanged ORS (Marion) April 20, 1928
Me DEADLIEST Nem, oo
mm PRISON
BREAK
. the nN!
- y
By DUANE HENNESSY hole vas
char ‘ter,
. . sece mi
Guns blazed in a pitched battle with twenty ye
prison guards and three deadly con- al ova
victs were over the wall! oh
i race
Spreading terror as they fled across . YF
Oregon, kidnaping, pillaging, the des- N rray
peradoes cunningly eluded capture— too! lor
and pursuers knew the murderous on
three would rather die fighting than go
° yr tor
to return to strangle in the hangman’s —\ fol
noose. kly
Was esid
ing id
T on th
Dal mple
HE long, shuffling line of silent men wound its way into ret: ed
the dining hall from the yard. It was the dinner hour nit ith
at Oregon state penitentiary on an August evening in _
1925. In the line four convicts were unusually alert, buoyed Tish hi
up by the desperate hope that before another hour had passed = da
they would have dashed to freedom. Covertly they watched vict las!
the unsuspecting guards and then the leader gave the word. Jam Ne
“Now—let’s go,” whispered Bert “Oregon” Jones. Rua kn
He slipped out of line and three others followed. They sped pot wer
away to the cell block and quickly mounted to the third tier. Tra)
“We've got to work fast,” Jones urged hoarsely. “Give me and nat
that chisel.” brut ly
He attacked the ceiling fiercely and his companions helped ant d
as best they could with two knives, “Faster—make it faster before we're discovered,” com’ and
i “Faster—make it faster before we're discovered,” the man cried Convict Tom Murray as “Oregon” Jones hacked sti Iden
who had neither knife nor chisel urged his companions. a hole eheoweh the ceiling of Oregon’s penitentiary A | ot
At that moment the chisel broke through the ceiling and cellblock in their deadly break for liberty. “Coot the
the darkening night sky came into view. The men chipped av TBRY
‘ 4 STARTLING DETECTIVE —_ sar!
STARTLING DETECTIVE, March, 1933
54
“sticking the money in your pocket.”
The initials (D. S.) were those of Dave
Smith, (now also dead) a convict serv-
ing a life sentence for murder. He had
the newspaper route in the rison, The
two letters mentioned by Murray were:
never found.
In the latter part of the message, Te-
ferring to the killing, Murray under-
scored the pronoun “I” and the name
“Jones.” That Murray killed Sweene
was clearly proven at the trial, but offi-
cials had ahways held the belief that
Guard Holman was killed by Kelley.
As he did in the trial, Murray, in his
suicide message, attempted to shield
Kelley and Willos.
THE remaining two condemned men’s
cases were dragged tediously through
the courts for long weeks, for lon
months of misery, until thirty-three o
them had passed. Their attorneys car-
ried their cases to every court in the
land, and after long, seemingly in-
terminable periods, the convicts would
learn that rhe original convictions were
sustained. Then followed a series of
writs, temporary writs, and reprieves.
“Willos once told the author:
“It isn’t death—I am not afraid of
death. It’s these damn reprieves—this
waiting—waiting—waiting. We resign
ourselves to the fate of hanging—then
the weeks start dragging—the days—
the hours—the minutes—and then—
another reprieve. It’s hell.”
And then on the bright and sunn
spring morning of April 20th, 1928,
the last of the re rieves terminated,
and Kelley and Willos were executed,
and the crime record of the two con-
spirators which had been on the legal
Texas’ House of Horrors *
was something suspiciously clean about
the thing. | took out my penknife and
inserting the point where the axe handle
joined the metal, I chipped off a splin-
ter of wood.
The tip of the splinter was a brown-
ish-red!
Knocking the head from the axe, we
found the wood underneath consider-
ably stained. Was this the brutal in-
strument with which the boy’s head
had been hacked from his body!
The bare floor of the wagon bed was
clean and white. Too clean and white,
in fact, for a wagon that was used in
general farm work. It had been re-
cently scoured. ’
The underside of the wagon told the
story. There was clotted dried blood
on the coupling pole and axles, and on
the underside of the boards of the
wagon. Water had been poured into
the wagon bed, which had forced the
blood into the cracks and out on the
other side. 2
Had this wagon carried the headless
body to its hiding place?
It was beginning to look as though
we had the case in a bag, but we were
not prepared for the amazing turn our
“investigations took a few hours later.
With a party of deputies, and news-
paper men, we went to the Snow home.
The Master Detective
stage of Oregon for nearly three years
was closed. ?
Out in the prison yard, the warm air
was seemingly surcharged with a dis-
mal, melancholy tension. Hundreds of
restless convicts moved around dispirit-
edly, intermittently gathering in little
cheerless knots, and then moving silent-
ly away to themselves again in grim
absorption.
The two condemned men, however,
with only a few hours to live, ate heart-
ily of breakfast, consisting of fried
eggs, buttered toast, fruit and coffee.
Immediately _ following breakfast,
Kelley dressed himself in a neat-fitting
gray suit with blue line stripes, and a
natty blue and red tie. He was clean-
shaven, his eyes were clear, and he
— to be in perfect control of him-
self.
Willos too, was well dressed in a
brown suit with line stripes of darker
brown, but his dark face showed lines
from lack of proper sleep. and worry.
Kelley was the first to enter the grim
gray walls-of the death chamber. He
walked with a firm tread up the thirteen
steps by. the side of Father Keenan,
unassisted. Two guards. followed. He
maintained his composure, but his
mouth tightened to a thin, straight line,
and he gripped the leather strap on
his hands tightly as the black cap was
thrown over his head. and the ugly
noose adjusted. ua at
He dropped through the trap at 8:31
o’clock, and 4vas pronounced dead by
Doctor R. L. Edwards,’ prison physi-
cian, at 8:43.
His fellow conspirator,. Willos, as-
sumed a nonchalant ‘air and mounted
the thirteen steps with a cigarette in
(Continued from page 37)
One of the oldest houses in Erath
County, it was built after the style of
Southern houses fifty years before.
There were three rooms under one roof
which served as living rooms and sleep-
ing quarters. Then, almost touching
the other house, was a separate two
room shack which served as a kitchen
and dining room. It was in the latter
place that Sheriff Hassel interviewed
Snow a few nights before, a fact which
had considerable water. Peuy the case.
Trying the door of the three room
house, we found it locked. Putting our
shoulders to it, we forced it open.
A HORRIBLE odor assailed our nos-
trils. Holding handkerchiefs to
their noses two of the men forced them-
selves across the room and opened the
windows, to let the fresh air in.
“Well, Sheriff,” one of the deputies
said. “Looks like we're not far from
that body.”.
The air reeked with. evidence that
death had been in that place. When
the fresh air made it possible for us to
go into the rooms, we believed that
our search for the body of Bernie Con-
nally had ended, -
With all the furniture removed from
the house, there were few ee where
a body could have been idden, The
his mouth. A guard walked at his side.
Father Keenan and another guard fol-
lowed.
For a fleet instant, as he stood on the
scaffold, his heavy eyelids flickered at
the sound of birds stirring sleepily in
the eaves. From the open window, the
full splendor of the morning sunshine
was evident as the golden rays came
pouring in the room. . Far off on the
distant highway, cars hurrying through
the day could be plainly heard. He
closed his eyes against_all the outside
beauty for a second. Then he grinned
wickedly.
Just before the black hood was
placed on_ his head, he spat out the
cigarette viciously, surveyed the 75
white faces staring up at him and said
dramatically:
“Well, | hope you will all be satis-
fied.”
At 8:53, he dropped through the trap
to his doom. For a few moments his
body jerked convulsively, then slowly
became limp and swayed grimly back
and forth like some hideous pendulum.
At 9:05, he was pronounced dead, his
body was cut down and placed gently
in the wicker basket at the bottom of
the scaffold.
prey and Willos were no more.
They had fought their way from
the penitentiary—they were brought
back, and they paid the price in full
that only a State can ask and receive.
Thus ended a grim chapter, one of
the bloodiest chapters in the annals of
Oregon’s prison history, a chapter that
was replete with thrills and dramatic
incidents, and a-chapter that is hoped
will never have a recurrence.
THe Enb
‘
closets yielded nothing. In the stack of
rubbish on the floor of one of the
rooms we found several books of “boy-
hero” stories with the name “Bernie
Connally” on the flyleaves.
It was nearly midday,’ when we
paused in the middle of the house puz-
zled at what our search had not re-
vealed. The cold winter sun was shin-
ing in through one of the windows,
making a bar of light across the floor.
“Look,” one of the men was pointing
at the rough boards of the floor. A sun-
beam had caught and was holding its
reflection in the head of a nail. It was
a shiny, new nail. In an area about
four feet square on the floor, there were
about a dozen new nails which con-
trasted brightly with the other worn,
ne nails in the rest of the floor.
ithin a few seconds, we had pried
the first board from the floor. A swarm
of flies rose into the room from under-
neath the house. We thought our
search for the missing body was at an
end, But instead of a body, we found
only a depression in the stained, foul
earth beneath the house, and faintly
outlined on the ground, in the cavity
between the two supports, were signs
of the body that had been there until
elimi had advanced consider-
ably.
5 seeonnn onan
ae em oho 3. wet
on
ho
called out the usual, ominous request
tor instant obeyance:
“Stick “em up! We've got you cov-
ered!”
Four hands shot up in the air as
Kelley and Willos Levelt the com-
mand. For a fraction of a moment, the
convicts giared a little hollowly at each
other, looking like two persons stand-
ing on the edge of an unseen precipice.
Then Willos shrugged his shoulders
wearily. “They've got us corraled
dead to right, Crowbar,” he muttered
dismally. He turned slowly, facing his
nearest captor. “I suppose you fel-
lows will get a nice little reward out of
this?”
The officer side-stepped an imme-
diate answer, and then the others
closed in, handcuffed the fugitives se-
curely and placed them in their auto-
mobile.
The two desperadoes were tired,
dead tired, and looked like anything
sut man-killing fugitives from a State
orison. They were so sleepy that after
Cascade Locks were passed on the ride
from Hood River to Portland, Kelley
asked permission of Constable Edward
Gloss, who occupied the rear seat with
the captives, to recline. For a_ few
minutes after his head had touched the
back cushion, his hands rested limply
on his knees, his red-rimmed eyes star-
ing moodily at the ceiling of the car.
we is HANK God, I'll get a good night’s
sleep tonight, anyway,’ he re-
marked faintly. “We've been through
hell.”
An instant later, he was sleeping
soundly.
Two indictments charging the recap-
tured trio of prison breakers with first
degree murder, were speedily returned
by the Marion County grand jur
shortly before noon, August 28th, 1925,
y bare few days after their incarcera-
tion in the gloomy death cells at the
penitentiary.
One indictment charged that the
three convicts murdered Guard Hol-
man with a “gun” while the other in-
dictment accused them of slaying Guard
Sweeney with a “revolver.”
Tom Murray procured Mr. Will R.
King, ex-State Supreme Court Judge,
as his defense attorney, and on the
morning of October 5th, 1925, he went
on trial for his life, with a jury to de-
cide his fate, composed of nine men
and three women.
Judge King was a brilliant lawyer, a
man thoroughly skilled in legal knowl-
edge, and it was virtually his first act
to ask for an order of the court,, au-
thorizing the jury to inspect the pris-
on premises. He urged that this in-
spection be made prior to the opening
statements by the attorneys. pecial
request was made that the jurors be
allowed to view the prison Bullpen and
dungeons.
Judge King realized what a hopeless
case he had in trying to save his client
from the gallows. But he determined
to resort to every loophole, to every
technicality of law, to the very utmost
of his sparkling talent, in a desperate
effort to triumph, and he decided to
start right with the Bullpen.
The Master Detective
(Continued from page 50)
For his defense was: That the con-
vict acted in fear of his life in escap-
ing, and that his mental condition at
that time should be considered as a
mitigating circumstance. That it was
Murray’s belief that to remain in
prison, was to leave his life in jeopardy,
that the prison conditions were such as
to encourage and excuse an attempted
break, and that he was justified in
shooting if necessary to insure his es-
cape from a persecution that_ threat-
ened his life. "
For ten days, Murray’s trial dragged
along, the opposing attorneys bitterly
debating pro and con. Throughout the
trial, the young desperado maintained
his deadly calm attitude. He almost
constantly assumed the same pose in
the courtroom, one elbow resting on
the rail of the witness stand, and rest-
ing his chin in his hand. At times, he
was slightly agitated, and he nervously
fingered his lips and chin, but these
nervous spells, however, were very
few.
Whenever he spoke in the court-
room, it was in an even tone of voice
that could be heard distinctly in all
arts of the house. He used very good
Snglish and invariably showed no
signs of excitement.
For three solid hours before the case
went to the jury, King reviewed the
case before the nine men and three wo-
men in a plea for life for the convict
slayer. The entire plea was directed at
instilling in the minds of the jury, the
existence of mitigating circumstances
which would juste them in returning
a verdict of guilty to first degree mur-
der, but with recommendation for life
imprisonment in lieu of hanging.
As one of his closing statements,
King said:
“The facts of the case only can de-
termine the sanity of the defendant ats
the time, and all facts bearing on this
angle should be considered by the jury.
It is generally known that a man can
become paranoiacal, insane upon cer-
tain subjects. The mania for escaping
which developed in Murray was only
human nature, and conditions existing
at the prison were such as to invite es-
cape, especially to one of paranoiacal
tendencies.”
CLOSING for the State, District At-
torney John Carson demanded of
the jury that in justice to the people of
the State of Oregon, and in yustice to
the defendant, Murray, that they re-
turn a verdict of guilty of first degree
murder without any recommendation
for life imprisonment.
In a sure, impressive tone, Carson
declared:
“Tt lies with you ladies and gentle-
men of the jury, whether the sanction
of the law is to be placed upon the
commission of such a crime as we have
proved this defendant guilty. If you
are amiss in your duty, you will be
saying to this defendant and all the
other convicts confined in the Oregon
State Penitentiary that they can com-
mit such a crime as took the life of
John Sweeney and suffer no punish-
ment other than be returned to the
prison from which they escaped.
ee ey
“The defense has painted for you a
icture of a prison they declare 1s liv-
ing death for those confined in it. Yet
counsel for the defense is pleading for
you to return this defendant to that
living death, If you return this con-
vict to the prison under life sentence,
it will simply be giving him the op-
portunity to commit the same crime
over again.”
Tom Murray’s jury filed out. And
after five hours deliberation, they filed
right back again. The verdict was
reached at nine o'clock on the night of
October [5th, 1925, after six ballots
had been taken.
An oppressive silence spread over the
room as the jury filed into the box. As
Judge Kelley received the verdict and
glanced over it’s contents before pass-
ing it on to the clerk to read, his head
jerked sharply erect in an involuntary
motion.
“Guilty as charged in the indict-
ment,” the clerk read.
Murray sat silent, staring at his
hands for a matter of seconds. Then
he raised his head, turned to his attor-
ney and smiled. He made some remark,
not distinguishable to others in the
courtroom.
Judge Kelley dismissed the jury and
they slowly filed from the room. As
they left, Deputy-Warden J. W. Lillie
and two prison guards advanced to-
wards Murray with handcuffs. He
rose briskly, placed his prison cap upon
his head.
jf GUESS they won't arrest me for
putting my cap on in court,” he
said with a faint touch of sarcasm.
The popular sympathy which had
bgen with the young convict since his
capture in Centralia, stayed with him
to the last. As he was marched out of
the courtroom on his way back to the
prison several were heard to remark
that while they felt that justice had
been done, they “hated to see the kid
go.” There was not one but admitted
admiration for Tom Murray’s nerve
and steel-ribbed composure.
At ten o'clock on the morning of
Monday, August 19th, he stood before
the bar of justice and was sentenced to
be hanged.
Asked by the court if he had any-
thing to say relative to why he should
not be sentenced to pay the extreme
penalty, the convict replied:
“Ves, [ might say something,” and
in a clear voice, continued:
“They have said that | was a killer.
In the Florence job, | could have killed,
but [| didn’t. During the time that |
have been in the penitentiary, I have
been shot at five times without warn-
ing. There, they shoot first and talk
afterward.
“In the break, I could have killed
several | didn’t even shoot at. | had
“Slaughterhouse” Davidson in = my
power, and if there ever was a man at
the pen that | would have reason to
kill, it would have been him. But |
didn’t.
“While as a fugitive, there were sev-
eral | could have killed and prevented
from disclosing information as to my
whereabouts. But [ didn’t.”
ee
May, 1933
There was a hush over the courtroom
as Murray spoke. As he finished and
stood half-facing the court, Judge Kel-
ley said:
“The law gives the court no discre-
tion. You are to be delivered to the
Warden of the Oregon State Peniten-
tiary within twenty days and on the
eighteenth day of December, you are
to be hanged by the neck until you are
dead. And may God have mercy on
vour soul.”
Murray’ flinched perceptibly for the
first. time during the course of his
trial when sentence was pronounced,
but he sat quietly down beside Judge
King, his attorney, and quickly main-
tained the same attitude of coo] com-
posure he had shown _ previously
throughout.
James Willos and Ellsworth Kelley,
went on trial for their lives Thursday
afternoon, October 15th, the same day
Murray's jury went out.
THE trials were similar, except that
women and girls had made u the
greater part of the audience during
Murray’s trial, and their sympathies
had been visably with the convict. In
Kelley and Willos trial, most of the
spectators were men and boys. When
Murray was on trial, interested audi-
ences came early in the morning ands
sat throughout the day, some of ~the
women even bringing their babies: and
lunch. In the later trial, the surging
crowd changed rapidly, people going in
and out almost constantly.
During the course of the trial, Wil-
los and Kelley presented a distinct con-
trast in their attitudes for the most
part. Willos’ usual pose was to sit
slumped down in his chair with his
legs crossed. He chewed gum contin-
uously. He would glance around the
room furtively. His eyes would narrow
to slits and a cynical smile would ap-
pear on his swarthy face. Often, he
would be so absorbed in sketching the
likeness of a member of the jury or
some other member of the court on a
scratchpad, that he betrayed no indica-
tion that he was face to face with jus-
tice fighting for his life.
Kelley, however, presented an en-
tirely different appearance. His face
was white and his eyes sunken. He sat
hunched in his chair with his coat col-
lar turned up and his eyes downcast.
He was very nervous throughout, and
responded only half-heartedly to Wil-
los’ Whispering comments. He took no
interest in the events going on in the
courtroom.
Their case went to the jury at 12:19
o'clock, October 24th, and after casting
37 ballots during its deliberation of
more than fifty-two hours, the twelve
good members and true, brought in a
verdict of first degree murder at four
o'clock on the afternoon of October
26th, 1925.
On the morning of October 30th,
1925, they were sentenced to pay the
extreme penalty, the execution to take
“place on Friday, January 8th, 1926.
Kelley and, Willos were a dejected
appearing pair when brought before
Judge Kelley. They did not seem
nervous, but both were unshaven and
pale. Willos’ pallor was particularly
The
noticeable, because normally he was of
ruddy complexioa.
Kelley was the first to be sentenced.
Before Judge Kelley announced the
grim words, “You shall be hanged by
the neck until you are dead, and may
God have mercy on your soul,” he
gave each man an opportunity to
speak.
Kelley, the condemned, with the
morose features and bloodless, tautly
pulled lips, arose. His voice was quiet
and soft-spoken, without threat or
bluster, as he spoke a few words:
“1 want to say that as far as the
jury is concerned, | have had as fair
‘a trial as could be expected under the
circumstances. I did not kill Holman
as the State tried to show, and in time
it will be proven that | did not kill
him. That’s all | have to say.”
Kelley then sat_ down with a long-
drawn sigh, and Willos stood up. His
restless black eyes wandered this way
and that for a moment. Then he said
hoarsely :
“My trial, I think, has been fair, but
I am not guilty of murder in the first
degree. I never harmed any man dur-
ing the getaway, and never had the
least idea of harming anyone. I am
very sorry that anyone was harmed,
but it was only through misunderstand-
ing. In fact, understood that no one
was to be harmed, and | want to say
the same thing for Jones, Murray and
Kelley. 1 think Oregon. Jones simply
went wild and began shooting, making
things turn out the way they did. Both
Kelley and I came back to the prison
without handcuffs. We said we wanted
to answer the charge for first degree
murder, but we did not think we would
have to be hanged for it.”
(Note: Willos omitted to mention
that there was no necessity of hand-
cuffs. A dozen cars were ahead of them
and back of them, on the trip from
Portland to Salem, crowded with
heavily-armed officers.)
Master Detective
AS Willos and Kelley left the court-
room in charge of officers, Willos
turned to his companion and compli-
mented him on_ his speech to the
Judge.
“It was a fine speech,” he said
warmly. “I congratulate you.”
“You made a fine speech yourself,”
said Deputy-Sheriff Sam Burkhart to
Willos.
The condemned man glanced sharply
at the officer, a mocking smile on his
lips. “I thank you, Sir,” he responded.
“That is the first compliment that |
have received since this entire proceed-
ing started.”
On December 11th, Tom Murray’s
cas¢ was appealed to the higher court
for re-hearing, and as the weary
months passed, he continued to live
and smile.
The author of this story was em-
ployed in the prison butcher shop, and
whenever the opportunity presented
itself, which was almost every day, he
would converse with Murray from the
cement sidewalk, a few feet east of the
condemned row. ‘These snatches of
conversation always took hee while
the convict was enjoying is exercise
period, by pacing the length of the cor-
53
ridor, to and fro, and while a guard
was constantly by his side, this official
never objected.
During the afternoon of May 9th,
1926, the following conversation took
place.
“You're looking like a million, Tom.
Getting fat as a pig.”
Murray laughed easily. “Feel good
too. Send me up a tender and juicy
steak for my supper, will your” .
“Just gave the cook a nice tender-
loin for you, Tom. The best we had
in the shop.”
“That's fine.” Suddenly Murray’s
voice changed. Somehow, it seemed
there was a faint harsh note in his
next words. “Say Kid, you're getting
over now. Don’t ever get screwed up
like | am. Hang on to yourself, what-
ever you do.”
There fell a brief, uncomfortable si-
lence. Then Murray’s face was once
more wreathed in smiles, and he ap-
eared to possess never a care or Worry
in the world. He seemed actually
happy.
But on the early morning of the fol-
lowing day, May 10th, immediately
following “lights on,” Eddie Walker,
Murray’s artner-in-crime, stepped
quickly in front of the author’s cell.
Walker’s face was deathly pale; he
stared from deeply-circled eyes.
“What the hell, Eddie?”
Eddie’s eyes were clouded with a
mist. “Tom hung himself last night,”
he said chokingly, “in his death cell.”
SUDDEN, tense silence ensued. Then:
“No—he couldn't.”
“But he did,” he said, the words al-
most dying in his throat.
With that, he was gone.
Hopeless, apparently, that further
efforts in the courts.could not save him
from the gallows, Murray, the notor-
ious Oregon desperado, and Murray,
the man, did hang himself. He had
taken his own life sometime between
the hours of 9 and I] p. M. virtually
under the very eyes of the death-watch,
who was seated squarely in front of his
cell, As an improvised rope with which
to perform the erim deed, he twisted
up a bed. sheet, reinforcing the noose
with his shoe laces.
In a written message which he left
for the prison officials, there was a flash
of his characteristic sarcasm and cyni-
cism toward authority. This message,
written with crayon on the back of a
large picture, was found lying on his
bunk after his death. It was written in
a neat, round hand, and read:
“Before going south with what
money | have on the books, please
pay the paper man (D. S$.) what
1 owe him. .
“Mail the two letters if you
want to—one to the folks, the other
to Attorney Robinson, of the Port-
land News.
“I killed Sweeney. Jones killed
Holman. Kelley and Willos shot
no one, or even at anyone.
“TM
The first sentence of the message
was a fling at the prison officials. “Go-
ing South” in convict Janguage means
‘A staggering outgome , befell’ he career. : 7
‘staviding ‘young outge who_was_ the pride and: product. “a ;
a well, known Oregon community. ‘He played tis part in: ‘
‘the grammar schools that the taxpayers provided. He did
his bit and made the grades in the ‘high gchool such as a
ev Oregon community provides. oe:
He grew up to manhood, trusted and respected sak
| | belayed. Then he became the arm of the Jaw and was an |
‘able and. faithful 24-year-old polices f Ashland, ‘Ore-
gon.
.-~In-a stolen automobile, a crook. with a. past. of thievery, _
banditry -and—erime came his way. With keen ‘insight |
the 24-year-old police boy stopped hint and- ‘asked for
his driver’s license.
A quick shet, and the police boy fell on the running-
seard, ‘Another shat from the erook's gun, and he fell
prone on the ground. A third shot was driven by the
neartless thug into the prostrate body of the Ashland lad.
Here is a thug like the Ch hinese bandits. The boldnesg
of his shots is gangland’s challenge to civilization. It is
in imitation of the gunmen’s shots in Chicago. The im-
nunity with which Chicago gangland shoots, slays and
nurders is admired and copied by just such brutes as
‘he ravening wolf now in the Medford jail. -
In spite of our wealth, in spite of our virility, i in spite .
of our industrial and financial achievements, we are so
far iinable to fashion laws, operate’ courts and administer, |
justice -to hold back the criminals. Our bandits are a.
complete duplicate and their forays are on the way to
approximation—of _ the Chinese bandits. Onr gangland
iscrspigly wmerepsing ite power amd exten ling its barbaric” *
operations, | .
The Ashland police boy i is dead, The community saw
him. grow up into a useful, manly, widely beloved, law-”
enforcing citizen of 24, ons
“<The : str ints of ciyilizgtion | Were beliding. nee: to-.
| day,” says an Accitant news dispatch, ‘‘as hundreds of -
‘quiet men became more and more indignant over the
‘heartless, cow ardly murder of Samuel Prescott, 24-year- —
old Ashland policeman.’’ The dispatch adds: |
“Struck too deeply" with grief for talk, there has been no. {
vutbrelik 6f wiath among his friends, but a deep cirrent_—
| GLOUSL rc ti 7? pie * ate a ae te ae Rd omy he m ) i eT Se
‘and public age that will heavily curtail ‘ ‘gang-
‘and and its exponents throughout the. country. ‘The.
administration gf our erithinal law,”’ said the. Jate former
‘President: ‘Taft, “is a disgrade to our civilization.”?° ..:'
| The former president of the United States: in that
' statement. offered’ the probable explanationof -why—24-—
year-old Samuel Prescott went down. before a gangman ’s
smoking gun.— Oregon Journal. © phe: JHa7- 3)-
- Ashlaud ba Ta, ree
PROMPT JUSTICE IS DEMANDED - Tide
caer ot a ae
"Speaking of the murder of Sam Prescott, we are glad ~.
‘no fire-eater al nada to lead Ashland citizens on 4
cee nee ee eee atern
1 ‘Tyneliing -bee.- = alicia ae aoe
: No doubt the citizens who two days’ ago, seoprding to
rep were r’arin’ to 80, ) feel as. we do about it -
1 t6
|
eo oe atenadinald —
tay.
‘Preacott was a very popular young man, and one of
the most efficient and level- headed officers in the traffie
| service. His Sold-hlooded and cowardly murder natur- ~
' ally ‘aroused his. friends- and neighbors to a white heat -
with ‘immediate vengeance as a natural reaction. |
: However, we still live in a civilized country. We still
‘have law and the police. Dasturdly as the crime was,
conditions would have been rendered worse rather than
Peeses by. andther erime, particularly when: the latter
crime would have meant yielding to a primitive impulse,
‘whieh would have changed to ‘regret and a feeling of -
ey
fortuitous guilt aiter the community passions bad. cooled. —
inal
1 dems lynching, but a realization that Invelesiness of any—
kind breeds lawlessness, ‘and that no civilized contnitinity
‘gan sanction it without suffering a certain moral degen-
eration, and inviting 8 Bérious dangers. inthe fature—--— ae
In view of sucha crime, however, .; an “‘unéscapable’ re-_
| sponsibility, it seem# to us, rests upon the courts and the
. officials-whoso-duty-it-is-t to-uphold and.enforge the law.
| Every “Be | person tio ‘hatter ow: ‘overwhelming. th = =
e¥idence against him, deserves a fair. trial. . | ea
| ‘Bat thee should be no delay in ‘sectiring stitch a tibk
‘and the. Reople should be spared the: Spectacle of .a. Jong--
ii drawn out egal “battle, designed Solely’ to defeat the
at a&
: fotces of prompt justice. ~~ ~ on
- Jn‘other words, the sooner Ahis murder trial is hel
finished—asstming a plea of guilty: is not’ a an
‘better for al-concerned.--For-it’ is the: daw’s delay phi
+ aan ad: ry Fad dives no amone #};; ay nento’ ‘that
Tary! ~natieeacnsa —
_
‘ifr oo
“Immediately Affe
Life Imprisonm:
Life.
r Crime Was Com-
ppeared — Expects
at But Hopes to Save
Ae
oe aa not emurdert hint imi pold- blood; **
= James. a= Kings
, Self-confessed murderar of Sam Prescot st, local poli
Beer, here early Saturday. morning when the | ocal
stooped eney ag he. “was lea,
oe when he waz bei¢
Qe
athe
Lt ed ee *
he 8 Sh intery viewed by ne W3DPLp ceri
im and officers in the conty jail at Medford. :
4 not want to be-ta¥en to
I could not afford to he questioned: about the
dile which I had stolen iy U: tah,’’ he stated.
hor oughi iv aware that#—
laws — provide for. ©. Kingsley be arrested and oe
ing in ease of fy rst-de- in conneetion with the drivéatore i”
robbery, which . Kingsley de-
murder convictions} ; ribes i: his written ecnfession
asley, who had given the! -
rrinted elsewhere tn this issue.
10. bat. James. (*. Adams. On the cireular was Pinneg two
bn arrested here. is ght.! Photographs of Kingsley, which
bf
i
the Police Station as Ij
|
®
tae oovheena
content, - -he_ stated, ns ee ae
td ‘the. rest. of his life: in! contession and, made the officers
ation. of the crime which! believe that the remaining. por-|
“ti Bt 4% £
reely admits he ey to fasta he cont ession “was es
> “He “Wenied~ that” he” had” Nee
they ue: Be,-it, will airea to.Kil the Ashlana ofticer,
nobody. any’ good,” he'ssotting at the fdea that ft wast
2 connection with: '& result of a TYUM-running warj>
of. ‘savING his: neck, Andi a desire of Tum-runners to}*
ween Seecpacaereteeeeee en nee
Marked Demeanor
ee
t
Town
ving the city, said this.
; ward
antor asalnn
iat or oat |
that
ehildren,
ly Was five y
had been taken | while he was )
, bps S CF
to.save_ his life, _perfect-! | serving a sentence. This yerifieq!®? having J
‘Y eye +I} 4
a. robbery. part- of nis Dever seen |
‘time:
Were sent t a
Seattle, my
Orphan Ho w
Twas: fake -
andy live. Mountain View: cemetery:
it anTRDBUTE PAID
Pre YOUNG OFFIC rr
T= Mere Than 600 in Atien
ance at Prescott Rifes |
in the ahi. a " ace . ay
on Tuesday or
indjferenc
PSCaL4 1é. fro
“James a5
The sta
a Kingsley, allas e ij
Poem es confessed canirdery
after an alot Officer Sam Presevtt fe
story of oem vuneral rites were hel
The. stu yesterday, ah Oe ee
well as of; Jall today awaiting the rotuy
events wh) ot-Judge ILD. Norton, whom...
Sam Presa S expected will call a specls
ae session of the grand jury to re
a turn aH indictment again
Adams and insgura a apeedy tria
This was the opinion expresse
District Attorney George Coe
who Sald the killer ha
mado no further statementa re
ative to the fatal shooting ¢
the off _eer fast Saturday mor?
ing when Prescott attempted {
Hat this sBpiace him under arrest.
mE More than 600 attended tunes
A
Wilts
ot ne oar is;
wee
uny
tree
without. du
of any kin
TONt promis
af:
ding
i iY
+
w
fully Pal services held yesterday’ i
a andthe Elks Temple for the popiid
telling the
trath,- depo:
young elty officer.
ability and.
Tribute to hi
integrity was pai
‘That-T-q by Prof. Irving Vining in toyed
having hee ing words, Rev. H. T. Mitche;
Washington More delivered the tuneral, ay
f nron, Ritualistle lodge memD: os
in W488 another feature.
Officers from all over oregs
were present, every depa: be
of law enforcement repres ml be
in the group, The Ashland’ ‘a :
my¥
thats
tended in-a bodyc o. ~
A wealth of. tora at
ere In evidence. The ¢
not ‘opened... Burial. wags :
sy an aunt]:
Abate npg Spe gS gra TPP
ears, wher | S
Ime I wat
'Tget t the doeal- Ol ffeer:. “who had?
y che “hut if they send
ibeen very
to the penitentiary ee here,
. can -possih] ¥-do. ‘some: Boies
Ki neala
e, "out of the
PIS BAMa -g¥erwy a :
71
‘successful in - stopping ay
is a
os
PH lhe street” in Salt - Lake
' (Continued from Page 1}
~
Co., and I worked there for
about three weeks and from there
I went to Couer D'Alene, Idaho,
took & job falling timber, got
sick and went to the hospital and
was in the hospital a little over
“a2 Month and then-weat-te- work
for the Hlackweil Lumber Com-
pany, at Couer O’Alene, Idaho.
where | worked about five days.
then I returned to Seattle, Wash.-
that my step-grandmother had
separated from my grandfather.}
and I ved with my xrandfather
at Seattle, Wash. That 1 deeid-
ed at this time that I could not
make anything out of myself fol-
Jowing the sawmill work and oa-
dy securing occasional
ment, so I went to work for a
_ concern, Queen City
ic. 00 per monks during the
. -~ course of- the-year, -1-saa- raised}.
i 4 ~--10.$30.00 per week;
ce ed for this company for ubout!
that I work-
<A ote ae ten
three and one-half to four years,
..during which time I got married
when’ I was twenty years of age:
that my wife was more or less
‘extravagant. and we did not save
aby money and [I got discouraged
and kept me cleaned up on. mon-
ey and I wag packey up at Seattle
Wash., by the police, for vag-
Tancy and I was held for twelve
piours and T hired a lawyer and
‘ got out, thig costing me $25.00:
employ-
'a one-legged man,
a3 In the begun That my
brother wus heavily tu debt and
the wife's sickness ingrreased >.)
indebtedness.
That the two mea who ad
taken tha automobila aad for
whom I had entered a pies {to
ear theft, had promised ta give
me some money om Feb. 19, 1339,
aad on this promise, 1 beughi a
radio on my persona} acte; that
these two men did not pay the
nroney 2s promised ang 1] went
to tha radio dealer, whea m@ note
waa dae and told him [I could:
mot pay my sote, and he eom-
tsissioned me to sell it for him,
and on the firet demonstration, ?
left the radio in the house over
night and on going back the nest
day, I found that the party hag
phi and { was unable to locate
he had swindled " storekeeper,
meat market, landlady and others,
out of money “owing “to them; 1)
}eould--not-aZord to report. to the]:
police and the other ereditors
had already reported this maa,
2nd ‘the authorities. at. Monroe
Reformatory held that +]. had vie
olated my parole and in order to}
avoid arrest I went to. Seattle, |
Wash. I went to a friend's houpe, |
—_
boat house and had a small tug.
He got sick with the rheumatiem
—_efter-}-was there afew gays and {tor twp or tres days, stoppin
I tock care of him for about two.
months, running his business and
. rwent to Everett,
‘whe kept a Lup and took abont ‘$60.00
that on account of being picked
tmewrinaw fae “yien Be ame Meg cee Non Von
om OL,
City
Dtab, got about $7.08 of hin
and toek the car. That this ex
conrice told me he had dese tim,
in. Dear Lodge, ‘Mont. and th
palyy aame | kzew him by wa
“trish.” That we stole thie ea:
aboat midnight and we immedi
ately teft Salt Lake City, ase
left for Seattie, Wash. That w
had about $13.09 ac that thm
jand that tept-ua catil-we- got.
Seattie, Wash.
_A few days after our arriva
at Seattle, Washington, on |
Saturday night, during Decem
per, on the night of the Satu
day of the Uni. of Washington
Washington State football gam
irish and myself held up @ ba
ber shop 2beu, seven p. m. Thi
shon was lecated in Greeaw
suburb of Seattle, and there wer
peven men in the shop at gb
time and we lined them up an
took $30.00 from them and tw
watches. Tha, Trish aod myse
Wash,., for
couple ef days after this held-a
hen wa went to Portland, Or
‘gon, and while” at Portlang
ran out of money ‘and we stue
up Haak Bros. Pharmacy in th
down town district of Portlanc
Ore., and there were three eler
in the store, two ‘messenger bo
and a lady and we held them al
the tash register. This was a
noon, and we staye@ at Portlan
at hotels, one pf them the St
Francis, then we planned on £
Ing to tha Crava Warhoer ennr-
oben es ane
would
\-witted
iff Bur- |
the sup- &
a very @
ue body
oing to
Griffith
pounds,
ry such
sibility,
iggested
10W we
il with,
ity. At
of the
‘ single
ntioned
“n man,
showed
rson of
' blood
1 could
‘ry the
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ucap-
sheriff.
” Gel-
ind too
fficers
every
to the
€ pro-
entity
vy had
vstery.
cinity
irding
June
Which
vy, had
f her
inged
had
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have
npted
t her
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the
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tying
ymon
d be-
n old
n the
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»wled
rope
i at-
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doa
d
elor son, and a brother of the victim—
were grief-stricken. All offered to do
anything within their power to bring
the slayer to justice. But not one of
them could throw any light on the
mystery.
In her letters to them, they said, Mrs.
Griffith had written the usual affec-
tionate messages, often giving them the
wise counsel that had always charac-
terized her. Since the death of her hus-
band, she had been content to remain
single, and all her close friends were
women. At no time had she expressed
the slightest worry or fear.
@ SEVERAL TIMES she had written
of her decision to sell her home and
move to Corvallis, but this had seemed
to be for financial reasons. In fact, the
woman had grown attached to the
pleasant little house where she had
lived so long, and more than once she
had declared that she would sell it only
if she received an advantageous offer.
After innocently blasting Sheriff
Gellatly’s hopes of securing a definite
clue to the murderer, the relatives re-
turned to their homes in widely
separated parts of Oregon.
Neighbors of the victim had now
been eliminated as possible suspects,
and the Sheriff concentrated his efforts
on trying to learn whether any
strangers to the locality had been seen
at about the time of the murder. At
length a man was found who declared
he had observed a tramp in that vicinity
on the night before Mrs. Griffith was
slain.
“He was prowling along Rock Creek,”
said the witness, whose name was J. C.
Pritchard. “Now that you mention it,
he did look suspicious. Had a week’s
growth of beard on his face and looked
pretty ragged. I noticed he was gather-
ing firewood, though, and I decided he
wasn’t up to any mischief. In fact, I
forgot all about him after that.”
Gellatly secured a rather detailed de-
scription of the suspect; and two days
later a tramp was picked up near Cor-
vallis. He answered the general descrip-
tion given by Pritchard and admitted
that he had obtained some firewood
along Rock Creek on the night in ques-
tion. But he also claimed an alibi for
the night of June 2nd, and when this
was substantiated by a reputable wit-
ness the man: was released.
Days passed and lengthened into
weeks. All the while, undismayed by
the apparent hopelessness of his task,
Sheriff Gellatly doggedly clung to the
investigation.
Finally, more than a month after the
murder, he uncovered information that
seemed to be of the most startling sig-
nificance. A man whose testimony was
considered unimpeachable—a _ clergy-
man living in King’s Valley, some
miles from Philomath—confided in the
Sheriff his suspicions of a certain ac-
quaintance.
“I'm sure this man is the murderer,”
declared the Reverend Mr. Rose. “If he
isn’t, he at least knows all about the
crime.”
“Who is he?” demanded the Sheriff
eagerly. ;
He had sought out the minister in the
JANUARY, 1942
hope of learning
from him something
about the widow’s
associates-in her
church work—and
now he was about
to learn the name of
the suspected mur-
derer.
“He is Dr. North.
He’s a traveling den-
tist and has been
living around here
for the past two or
three months.”
“What makes you
suspect him, Mr.
Rose?”’
“Because, just the
other night, he prac-
tically confessed the
crime to me!”
“You mean, he
made you his con-
fessor, as a minister
of the gospel?” the
Sheriff asked.
“No, it didn’t
come about that
way. He was visit-
ing here. He had
done some work on
my teeth, and I had
come to like him.
The man has a very
striking personality
—a big fellow, with
a hearty, jovial
manner that soon
wins him friends.
Well, he dropped in
like an old friend,
and spent the night
with me.”
The minister paused nervously.
“Go on,” urged Gellatly. “Tell me
everything.”
™@ “WE TALKED about the terrible
crime, and Dr. North acted very
queer. He seemed to have guilty knowl-
edge of some kind; I couldn’t help
noticing it. He would start to tell me
something, then he would change the
subject abruptly. He seemed nervous,
upset. Once I thought he was going to
make a clean breast of the whole thing.
He said he wanted to ask my advice in
a matter of frightful importance, but
although I was sympathetic I could
never get it out of him.”
* “Tg that all?” the Sheriff inquired, his
hopes falling.
“No, all this only led up to what hap-
pened that night. After I had gone to
bed, I lay thinking about the man’s
strange behavior. Suddenly I heard his
voice, coming from the adjoining bed-
room. He was moaning and talking to
himself—or praying.”
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Part of it. But that was more than
enough. He kept crying out, as if in
agony: ‘Why did I kill her? Oh, why
did I kill her?’ And then he would sob
and beg for mercy.”
Sheriff Gellatly, barely restraining
his excitement, demanded: “Why didn’t
you come forward with this informa-
tion?”
“J was going to,” the preacher said
Arthur Clarke, District Attorney of Benton County, Ore- .
gon, at the time of the trial, aided in the investigation
distractedly. “I’ve been sorely tried by
this terrible experience, Sheriff—torn
between my solemn obligations as a
minister and my duty as a citizen.”
“Well, your duty was clear enough,
Mr. Rose, but maybe it’s not too late.”
“No, I’m sure it isn’t. Dr. North is
‘still in this. vicinity.”
“Good! Do you know where he can
be found?”
The preacher named a family at
whose house the traveling dentist was
staying., Gellaty pressed his worried
informant for more details, but Mr.
Rose could offer only one additional
clue.
@ “IN HIS ravings,” he said, “I heard
Dr. North repeat the name of Dick
Brumfield several times. Mr. Brumfield
is a neighbor out here. Maybe he knows
something about the terrible crime, al-
though——-”
“Pll talk to Brumfield,” said the
Sheriff; and thanking the minister, he
hastily departed.
Gellatly did not go at once to ques-
tion the suspected dentist. Instead, he
patiently visited many homes at which
Dr. North had performed dental work
or obtained lodging.
The result of all these interviews
seemed to warrant bringing the man in
for investigation; and on Wednesday,
July 19th, Dr. Edward N. North was
arrested and charged with the murder
of Eliza Griffith. (Continued on page 96)
39
Enigma of the Frightened Widow
(Continued from page 39) North was in-
dignant. He hotly denied any guilt, ridi-
culed the testimony of Reverend Rose, and
engaged an attorney to defend him. How-
ever, he was exceedingly vague in state-
ments regarding his whereabouts on the
night of the murder, and Sheriff Gellatly
was convinced that he had the real cul-
prit behind bars.
Dick Brumficld, brought in and held as
a material witness, disclaimed any knowl-
edge of the murder beyond what every-
body knew, and the Sheriff was inclined
to believe him. He was held in jail, how-
ever, until his statements could be checked.
On July 21st, the charges against North
were heard in the justice court by Judge
W. G. Lane. Sheriff Gellatly was still
working on the evidence against the pris-
oner, but he was confident that he already
had such damning, testimony to offer that
North would be bound over for trial in
the circuit court. The story of the Rev-
erend Mr. Rose seemed to insure this.
M@ WHEN THEE preacher was called to the
witness stand, however, he declined to
repeat under oath the things he had told
Sheriff Gellatly. ‘The prosecutor, former
Judge McFadden, attempted to refresh
Rose’s memory.
“Did you hear the defendant say, ‘Why
did I kill her? Oh, why did I kill her?’
while he was a guest at your home?”
asked McFadden.
“JT don’t know,” was the astonishing re-
ply. “Maybe I did, but I’m not sure.”
McFadden stared at the witness, and
Attorney M. O. Wolkins, representing the
accused dentist, laughed outright.
“There is no evidence against my client!”
he declared. “I move that the charges
against him be dismissed.”
“Just a minute!” snapped McFadden,
and turning to the witness, he continued
with the examination.
Five minutes later he gave it up. Rev-
erend Rose was not only a weak witness;
he contradicted himself and virtually
repudiated the testimony he had given the
Sheriff and McFadden previous to the
hearing.
There was no need for North’s attorney
to cross-examine the witness; Rose had
practically testified for the defense, and
Wolkins was content to let well cnough
alone.
Other witnesses were put on the stand,
but their testimony was insufficient to
support a murder charge. They related
incidents about the dentist which created
the impression that Dr. North was a man
who “loved to tell whoppers,” as one man
put it.
More than once, it was revealed, North
had dropped hints that he knew a reat.
deal about the murder of Eliza Griffith,
but this testimony served little purpose
beyond enhancing the defendant’s repu-
{ation as a highly talented story-teller.
When, at the conclusion of the hearing,
Judge McFadden left the matter in the
hands of Justice of the Peace Lane, with-
out recommendation, the prisoner was
promptly discharged. Dick Brumficld was +
also released, for he was plainly innocent
of any connection with the crime.
Unabashed by the entire proceedings,
Dr. North strode from the courtroom with
a broad grin on his face. A really hand-
some man, tall and neatly groomed, he
was a strikiny: figure, and knew it.
“The whole things was a big joke! he
boomed. “I might have had a little fun
with the preacher, but I don’t remember
it. If he heard me muttering in my sleep,
I must have had a nightmare from eating
that bum food he served!”
Thus, seven weeks after the brutal mur-
96
der of Mrs. Griffith, the charges against
the only real suspect ended in a complete
fiasco. Sheriff Gellatly was more than
disappointed, and he was not convinced
of North’s innocence. He considered the
man to be a decidedly questionable char-
acter, but he had no proof against him.
The citizens of Benton County were
equally disturbed. Feeling against the
unknown, heartless slayer still ran high;
and yet, in spite of all that the oflicers
could do, the sensational case appeared
destined to remain forever unsolved.
Recognizing the situation, the county
‘officials voted to offer $1,000 for informa-
tion leading to the arrest and conviction
of the murderer. A few weeks later, the
state of Oregon offered the same amount.
It was fervently hoped that the combined
reward of $2,000 would prove an irre-
sistible inducement to any one having
vital information to offer.
Months passed. The summer waned,
The author (left) interviews W. A.
Gellatly, Sheriff of Benton County at
the time of the Eliza Griffith murder
case
fall and winter came and went; and still
the killer remained free and undetected.
Had the crime been committed by an
unknown marauder who had long since
fled from the scene, leaving not a clue
whereby he could be traced? Police
throughout the country were reminded of
this possibility. Details of the crime, as
well as the reward notices, were sent vir-
tually everywhere. As a result, many
captured criminals were questioned about
the Griffith murder, but none had been
connected with the baffling case.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Gellatly had never
entirely eliminated Dr. North from his in-
vestigations. He corresponded with of-
ficers in most of the states through which
the itinerant dentist had boasted that he
had traveled—and these included all the
states west of the Mississippi and several
east—but so far as the Sheriff could learn,
North had never been convicted of a crime.
After his trial, the dentist had gone to.
Portland, where he appeared to have
settled down for a time with a fair prac-
tice. Gellatly employed a detective in that
city to keep the man under surveillance
and, if possible, gain his confidence. North,
if guilty, might eventually let something
slip,out that would lead to his undoing.
Gellatly’s investigator worked quietly
on the case and sent the Sheriff regular
reports on the suspect’s activities. Posing
as a down-at-the-heel adventurer not un-
like the traveling dentist himself, the
sleuth gradually wormed his way into
North’s confidence until they were bosom
companions,
One day, late in January, Sherif? Gel-
latly received a report which stated, in
part:
I think he is about ready to confide in me,
‘He seems to have something on his con-
science, something that he would like to tell
me. He doesn’t trust me to that eatent yet,
but 1 am going to encourage hint by pre
tending that my own hands are not clean,
A few days later, Gellatly received the
startling report that North had disap-
peared!
The Sheriff went to Portland and
brought back some of the vanishing
dentist’s effects that he had left behind.
One of these was a blood-stained coat,
which North was known to have worn at
Philomath. The blood spots were old;
but no one could remember whether North
had worn the coat after the murder.
Suspecting that North had become
alarmed and fled from Portland after
penetrating the disguise of Gellatly’s
undercover man, the Sheriff sought the
help of other officers to trace him.
One day in March, M. P. Burnett dropped
into Gellatly’s office. The former Sheriff,
although occupied with other duties, had
never ceased to give part of his time to
trying to solve the mystifying Griffith case.
“You know,” he said casually, lighting a
cigar, “there is one angle to this mystery
that can still be investigated more thor-
oughly.”
“What’s that?” .
Burnett explained his idea, “It’s just a
hunch, but I'd like to follow it through.”
“Go ahead,” urged Gellatly. “I've just
had word that a traveling dentist resem-
bling Dr. North has turned up in Montana,
and I’m going to stick to this phase of the
investigation until I find out why he
skipped out of Portland.”
Burnett went to the bank and conferred
with one of the officials. Together they
searched a file of records. At last they
found the name of a depositor from Philo-
math who had been in the bank on June
lst—the day Mrs. Griffith was there to
complete the sale of her property and re-
ceive $1,000 as a down payment.
The depositor was one Charles T. Hum-
phrey. He had closed his savings account
a few weeks ago, with the explanation that
he was going to Portland.
H@ WITH THIS slight lead, Burnett went to
Philomath and learned that there were
two Humphrey brothers, Charles and
George. Both were regarded as fine men,
hard-working and honest. They had lived
together in their cabin on Rock Creek for
many years, taking any work they could
get.
Jobs had been scarce in recent weeks,
and it appeared that the Humphrey broth-
ers had left Philomath about a month ago
to seek employment in the north. Being
excellent woodsmen, it was thought that
they could be found in one of the lumber
camps.
Back in Corvallis. Burnett laid his in-
formation before District Attorney Clarke
and his assistant, Judge McFadden. Both
were eager to lend him the authority of
their office; and the police of Portland,
Salem and other cities were notified that
the Humphrey brothers were wanted for
questioning in connection with the Griffith
murder.
This soon brought a detective from the
Portland department. He was W. J.
Mitchell, ace homicide investigator. Mitch-
ell spent two days learning all he could
about the Humphrey brothers, then re-
turned to Portland.
For a while it looked as if nothing would
come of this action. and Burnett was in-
clined to discount the value of his sudden
inspiration. It was a long, chanee at best.
Abruplly, on the night of March 13th,
Clarke was awakened from a sound sleep
by the persistent ringing of the telephone.
It was the Portland detective. Mitchell,
calling from Hillsboro, in) Washington
County, Oregon.
TRNE DETECTIVE
“We've got
here,” he saic
but his story |
found Charle
Clarke got .
issue a warra:
ing train, he
boro, a town
When they
mild-looking.
his ‘middle t!
him as one oi
him search for
Questioned
Humphrey con:
plete innocenc:
with equal vi
a shot in the d:
“You might :
said. “Before
Griffith told o
lived in constea
you know why
cause we have
she feared!”
@ GEORGE HU
fright.
“No,” he cric
brother. He \
her place, wat
was his idea to
Suddenly he
refused to say
betrayed a gu
thing, whether
murder, and he
held for furthe
Five days late
cock of Washing
Humphrey in a
him. He, too, v
The two sus)
talk with each
citizens of
brothers ha
honest indi
they had spen:
bed had scenx
Their story
neighbor; but :
had been amp’
both of them :
walk the mile :
commit the cri:
nothing had ha:
But the sam:
other neighbors
ers’ reputations
slightest suspic
Gradually, wm
both of the men
tions of innocc
they had not be:
widow out of +
than one occasi
fact that she i
summon aid if
Certain of th:
Anyone ;
and acceptin
using the mc
The pub!'
publishers—
all magazine:
cooperate wii
JANUARY, 1942
ounty Court-
i the mystery
ragic climax
Burnett, fear-
ispicion might
‘nocent person,
the men, After
ir muttered
cured their
‘| cooperation
who would do
ring the mur-
vas summoned
He arrived a
at the victim’s
examined the
ie opinion that
strangulation.
‘more specific
lution of the
ne remainder
» neighbors of
y sheriff from
2 people inti-
interviews.
.NKLIN, the
d spread the
ed that Mrs.
‘ with her on
. plan to raise
TRUE DETECTIVE
money for the church,’ Nancy ex-
plained. Her eyes were swollen from
weeping, and she spoke in a tremulous,
grief-filled voice. ‘Eliza wasn’t feeling
very well, and I was worried. She lived
all alone, and I was afraid she might be
taken ill during the night. But when I
called her on the telephone last eve-
ning, she said she was feeling much
better. I promised to call her first thing
in the morning. When I tried to get
her on the phone about seven o’clock
this morning, she didn’t answer.”
“And that’s why you went over
there?”
“Yes, But I wasn’t worried. She had
said she was feeling better, and I sup-
posed she was out of the house when
the phone rang, doing small chores. I
took time to pick her a bouquet and—”
“What time was it when you last
talked with her over the telephone?”
Burnett asked.
—H NANCY FRANKLIN strove to re-
member. At last she said, “It must
have been almost eight o’clock, because
I read for an hour after that and went
to bed a few minutes after nine.”
“Then Mrs. Griffith was alive as late
at eight o’clock or thereabouts,” Bur-
nett commented. “Now, think hard—
how did her voice sound over the tele-
phone? Did she seem upset or nervous?”
“No, she was very cheerful.”
“Did she say whether she was alone
when you called her?”
“No, but she would have told me if
she’d had a guest. It wouldn’t have been
like her not to mention such a thing.
Besides, we chatted for several minutes,
and she wasn’t in any hurry to break
off the conversation.”
Burnett nodded. “Then she was un-
doubtedly alone,” he agreed. “Can you
think of any one who might have had a
grudge against Mrs. Griffith?”
Nancy said she had not the slightest
suspicion that such a person existed.
The widow had had a host of friends; an .
outright enemy was unthinkable.
The testimony of other neighbors
confirmed Miss Franklin’s opinion on
this point. Nowhere could Burnett learn
of a person who might have borne a
grievance, real or fancied, against the
widow. Apparently no one but the mur-
derer had seen or talked with her after
Nancy Franklin’s telephone call, at
about eight o’clock.
Finally Burnett and his assistant
visited the home of Mrs. Susan Henkle,
who was known to. have been Mrs.
Griffith’s most intimate friend. Here
they learned something which had evi-
dently been withheld from all of the
widow’s other acquaintances, and it
was such an important clue that Burnett
could barely restrain his excitement.
Eliza Griffith, Mrs. Henkle declared,
had once expressed a fear of some per-
son. She had been very lonely in her
rather isolated home, and she had con-
fided in Mrs. Henkle her intention of
selling the property and moving to Cor-
vallis.
“She thought she might get a house
there and keep lodgers,” Mrs. Henkle
added.
“So she was afraid of someone?”
prompted Burnett. “Who?”
JANUARY, 1942
“I don’t know. A man. She didn’t tell
me his name.”
“Was it a neighbor? Someone with a
grudge against her?”
Mrs. Henkle shook her head regret-
fully. “I haven’t the slightest idea. When
I pressed her for details, she smiled and
changed the subject. She said she was
lonely and nervous, and that she was
probably just imagining things.”
“And you've never heard of her hav-
ing any trouble with any one?”
“Never,” the:woman declared. She
added that neighborhood gossip usually
circulated matters of that kind, and
there hadn’t been the slightest rumor
of an argument or any similar trouble.
“How long ago did she tell you that
she feared someone?”
“About six weeks ago, I think.”
“Did she ever repeat the remark?”
“No, she never even hinted at her
fear again. I think she was ashamed to
appear nervous. But I know she was
going ahead with her plan to move to
Corvallis, and I think she was still se-
cretly very much afraid of some man.”
This was indeed an important lead,
but Mrs. Henkle insisted that the sus-
pect’s name was unknown to her, that
she could not even guess his identity.
Strangely enough, all the other friends
of the victim were surprised to learn
that the widow had once confessed a
fear of someone. On the other hand,
not a few remarked that they had ob- ©
served a certain nervousness in the
woman’s manner during recent months.
“But she had been living alone ever
since the death of her husband, twenty
years ago,” one of the neighbors pointed
out. “If she had been the timid type,
she would have gone to live with one
of her four married daughters. We
thought it was just the state of her
health that was bothering her.”
And yet, it appeared that she had
been in excellent health, “Like a young
girl, she was,” said a friend.
Burnett returned to Corvallis late that
night with a mass of conflicting evi-
dence. Much of it was trivial; most im-
portant was the testimony that Mrs.
Griffith had lived in secret fear. Bur-
nett resolved that he would never relax
his efforts until the suspect’s identity
was revealed. How difficult this was to
be, the former Sheriff little imagined.
Sheriff Gellatly and his posse arrived
at Corvallis the next day with the es-
caped convict in their custody. News of
the exciting capture went almost un-
noticed, in view of the sensational mur-
der mystery. Gellatly immediately
dropped everything else to take charge
of the investigation.
™@ THE AUTOPSY had just been com-
pleted and after Burnett had given
him all the information he had gathered,
the Sheriff hurried to confer with the
autopsy surgeon, Dr. C. H. Newth.
“It appears to have been strangula-
tion,” Dr. Newth announced. “No water
in the lungs. The bruises on the throat
and the ruptured blood vessels indicate
manual strangulation. To put it in plain
words, she was seized by the throat and
throttled between strong fingers.”
“But I thought she was hanged!”
The physician shook his head. “She
was, but the rope did not cause her
death. No doubt it was the rope which
caused the abrasions on the back of the
neck and under the ear lobes.”
Sheriff Gellatly puzzled over this,
then he asked, “Can you tell me any-
thing else?”
“Yes. The victim was assaulted.”
Gellatly stiffened with surprise and
shock. “‘You’re sure, Doctor?”
“The evidence is plain,” Dr. Newth
asserted; and picking up a paper, he read
his report aloud.
As nearly as could be determined, the
victim had died at an early hour on the
night of Friday, June 2nd. It was pos-
sible that the crime had been committed
only a few minutes after the widow had
been talking over the telephone with
Nancy Franklin.
Sheriff Gellatly went to his office to
study the evidence before proceeding
further. A deputy sheriff informed him
that District Attorney Arthur Clarke
had important information for him. The
Sheriff hastened to Clarke’s office.
@ “WHAT DO you think of this?”
Clarke began, by way of greeting.
“I’ve just learned that Mrs. Griffith sold
her home, the place where she was mur-
dered, for $3,500. Furthermore, the deal
was completed on Thursday, the day
before she was killed.”
Tense with astonishment, Gellatly
demanded, “Do you mean shé got that
much. in cash?”
“No.” Clarke consulted a slip of
paper. “She got the down payment in
cash, though—$1,000. It looks as if the
killer was someone who had learned of
the deal and hoped to find the money in
the woman’s house.” ;
Gellatly whistled softly and nodded.
“What next?” he cried. “I’ve just learned
_ something from Dr. Newth which seems
to indicate a motive different entirely
from robbery, and I reasoned that the
house had been ransacked merely to
throw us off the trail.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem to be the
case, now.”
“No, it must have been robbery, un-
less this transaction, coming just be-
fore she met her death, was a coinci-
dence. Our: job now is to find out who
knew that she had $1,000 in her house.”
“As a matter of fact,” said ‘Clarke;
“she didn’t have a cent of that money
in the house. I’ve checked with the
officials at the bank, and the money is
there, credited to her account. Further-
more, she hadn’t drawn out any appre-
ciable sums in many months.”
“How did you find out about this?”
“Why, a Mrs. Calvery called me on
the phone. She happened to know the
buyer of Mrs. Griffith’s property, who
lives here in Corvallis, and she thought
the information might be important. I
immediately got to work to verify the
tip.”
“Well,” said the Sheriff, as he headed
for the door, “it may be the means of
breaking this case. That’s how import-
ant'it is!”
He hastened to interview the man
who had purchased the Griffith prop-
erty. A real-estate investor, the man.
seemed surprised that the news of his
latest investment had leaked out. He
37
explained that Mrs. Griffith had not
wanted the transaction known until she
was ready to move from the house,
where she had planned to stay until
September.
“Why did she want to keep it quiet?”
Gellatly asked.
“She didn’t offer any explanation, and
I didn’t ask her. It was her own busi-
ness, you know.”
™@ THE SHERIFF next sought out the
woman who had provided this latest
tip. She proved to be a former neigh-
bor of the slain widow. She explained
Mrs. Griffith had volunteered the in-
formation that she had sold her home.
“She asked me to keep my eyes open
for a house in Corvallis,” Mrs. Calvery
continued. “She wanted to buy one
large enough to accommodate lodgers,
as that was how she intended to make
her living. In the meantime, she was
going to stay in her old house until a
good deal presented itself.”
“J see, Did you tell anybody about
this?”
“Not until today. She asked me to
treat it as confidential, and I did.”
“Do you suppose she told anyone
else?”’
The woman said she thought Mrs.
Griffith had kept the matter a secret,
unless she had confided in some of her
intimate friends at Philomath.
Later that day, Gellatly went to
Philomath and questioned a score of
persons. Not one of them, however, was
aware that their neighbor had sold her
property, although it had been generally
known that she had wanted to sell and
was only waiting for a satisfactory
offer.
At the inquest, held that afternoon
at ‘Corvallis, many of these witnesses
testified, but no new evidence was
presented. The coroner’s jury rendered
the verdict: “Strangulation by parties
unknown.”
Shortly thereafter, all the officials
working on the case assembled in the
Sheriff’s office. They reviewed the
evidence thus far obtained and tried
to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
“It sums up about like this,” said
Sheriff Gellatly. “Eliza Griffith was
alive and apparently in good spirits at
about eight o’clock on the night she was
killed. Some weeks earlier, she had
told a neighbor that she feared some-
one—a man—but his identity is a com-
plete mystery. Furthermore, although
she seems to have grown somewhat
afraid of living alone, she never again
mentioned the fear that must have been
haunting her. .
“The murder occurred the day after
she had sold her property for $3,500, a
thousand of which was in cash, This
money was promptly banked. No one
knows how much she had in the house
before it was robbed. If she had any, it
was stolen, although none of her other
valuables were taken. These are rather
trifling—a little silverware, a gold pin,
and so on.
H “AGAINST THE robbery motive, is
the fact that the woman was at-
tacked before she was slain. This
makes it appear to be the crime of a
fiend. It’s possible, of course, that the
motive was twofold.”
“That's all very true,” commented
District Attorney Clarke, ‘“‘but the point
is, who is the robber-murderer? Whom
does the description fit?”
“J don’t know,” said Gellatly, “put I
suspect that he is either a stranger to
the community out there, or else a per-
son of low mentality.”
“Why?” asked the Deputy District
Attorney, William S. McFadden, a
former judge.
“Because he carried the body of his
victim more than a quarter of a mile
to throw it in a shallow pond, Only a
stranger, unfamiliar with the depth of
George and Charlie Humphrey (lett to right, above) were the
widow's neighbors and had information of interest to the police
38
the water in that mill-pond, would
make such a blunder.
“Or, as you just said, a dull-witted
person,” reminded former Sheriff Bur-
nett. “And I would add to that the sup-
position that the murderer is a very
husky individual. He carried the body
a quarter of a mile, you know.”
Gellatly nodded. “I was going to
mention that point. Mrs. Griffith
weighed only about a hundred pounds,
but that’s quite a burden to carry such
a distance.”
“That presents another possibility,
gentlemen,” Judge McFadden suggested
thoughtfully. “How do we know we
haven’t two murderers to deal with,
instead of one?”
They discussed the possibility. At
length they decided that most of the
evidence seemed to indicate a single
criminal. The victim had mentioned
that she was afraid of an unknown man.
The post mortem examination showed
that she was throttled by a person of
enormous strength, as did the blood
found on the gag. Such a person could
unquestionably very easily carry the
hundred-pound corpse to the mill-pond
unaided.
“What about the convict you cap-
tured?” Burnett asked the Sheriff.
“Isn’t he a possible suspect?”
“I’ve already climinated him,” Gel-
latly replied, “He was on foot and too
far away from Philomath. There are
other circumstances which show he
couldn’t be the slayer. Guards from the
prison are taking him back to Salem
tomorrow.”
In the days that followed, the officers
worked tirelessly to exhaust every
possibility that might lead them to the
murderer of Eliza Griffith. Little pro-
gress was made, however. The identity
of the person whom the widow had
feared remained a complete mystery.
Most of the residents in the vicinity
of the crime were questioned regarding
their whereabouts on the night of June
2nd, and all furnished alibis which
were certified.
@ VERY FEW persons, apparently, had
known of the widow’s sale of her
property. The deal had been arranged
quite suddenly, and the woman had
plainly preferred to keep the news a
comparative secret. This might have
been because she feared an attempted
robbery, such as had actually cost her
her life. If so, this clue did not lead to
a single suspect.
Efforts to determine the ownership
of the handkerchief with which the
victim had been gagged were likewise
futile. There were no_ identifying
marks, and it was of such a common
variety that it could not be traced.
The rope found in the mill-pond be-
side the corpse was identified as an old
halter rope that had long hung in the
shed near the widow’s house. Evi-
dently, then, the killer had prowled
about the place and secured the rope
before he entered the house and at-
tacked his victim.
Following the funeral, relatives of
the slain widow were questioned at
great length. All of them—four married
daughters and their husbands, a bach-
TRUE DETECTIV'
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son, Claude,
become farm
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chfield replied.
he house. But
ace.” He went
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ney amounting
e robbery as a
able to find the
he suggested to
ts that someone
» you know of
ve heard of her
igth concerning
She had moved
‘ed there almost
d George Litch-
» where she had
forty-one years.
yanish-American
This left him in
time he was a
outh of Salem.
1er took over his
irch,” he added,
ican War Veter-
SS ee
Re
Tees eee
Detective David Houser (/.) and Captain Stanley
Friese of Salem, Oregon, Police Department display
bloodstained axe and piece of wood found by body
None of this information offered a hint as to why Mrs.
Litchfield had been so shockingly murdered. The captain
theorized that a transient thief with a sadistic streak might
be the slayer. And because the Southern Pacific Railway
tracks were only a few blocks from the house, a tramp
might have found his way there. Also the tracks offered an
avenue of escape to a vagrant familiar with methods
of stealing a ride on a passing freight train.
Back in his office, Friese contacted headquarters by
phone, ordering an immediate search of all hobo jungles
in the Salem area.
“Bring in anybody with suspicious stains on his clothing,”
the captain instructed. “Or anybody who can’t give a con-
vincing account of where he was yesterday afternoon and:
evening. If our man is a ’bo, we’ve got to grab him before
he can get a freight out of here.”
The captain made an examination of the Litchfield home,
in an attempt to reconstruct the crime. The living room
showed no sign of violence or of a prowler. Nor did the
dining room, where the elderly woman’s Bible lay open on
the table. The position of a nearby chair indicated that she
had been called away ‘from her reading.
In the kitchen, Friese found everything in order, includ-
ing a quantity of groceries on the table. But the bathroom
presented a different picture. The washbasin was dotted
with dark crimson spots, and several stained towels lay
on the floor. Obviously the murderer had leisurely washed
all traces of his victim’s blood from his person and clothing
before fleeing.
But that wasn’t all the captain found. On the floor be-
Shes
SHALE.
neath the wash basin was a sliver of bone—lt looked like
a splinter from the dead woman’s skull!
How, the captain wondered, staring at the gruesome
discovery, had this bit of bone got into the bathroom? The
woman had been slain in the woodshed, presumably by
blows from the bloodstained axe and the stick of wood.
Had the bone fragment clung to the murderer’s clothing
and been washed off, unnoticed by the slayer when he
cleaned himself up? Or had it adhered to some other lethal
weapon the man had used and carried away with him?
Perhaps in the suitcase of the man Shell had seen there on
Saturday afternoon? Friese filed the questions away in his
mind for further consideration.
Nowhere else in the house was there evidence of disorder.
Mrs. Litchfield’s bed was neatly made, indicating that she
had not slept in it Saturday night.
As Friese completed his inspection of the premises,
Detectives Houser and Parker returned from their tour of
the neighborhood. “We didn’t dig up much,” reported
Parker. “But a little that might narrow the time range
somewhat.”
Mrs. Litchfield had worked in her yard as late as noon on
‘ Saturday, neighbors had told the detectives. And Johnny
Greider, living at 1345 Waller Street, only a few yards from
the victim’s house, said that around 5 or 5:30 Saturday
afternoon, he had heard what-he thought was a woodpile
falling down with a crash at the Litchfield place.
“Nobody,” Houser said, “remembers seeing any strange
people or cars around. But this being Sunday, not every-
body is at home.” .
Friese nodded. “Some one of them may know something
that will help. But meanwhile we’d better get the routine
taken care of.”
The captain again phoned headquarters, this time sum-
moning fingerprint technicians. (Continued on page 96)
ee |
come after she was down. Somebody certainly wanted to
make sure she was dead.” ;
The patrolmen promptly reported the murder to head-
quarters. Captain Stanley Friese and Detectives Wayne
Parker and David M. (Mack) Houser were alerted at their
homes and arrived almost simultaneously with Coroner
Leston W. Howell.
While Coroner Howell examined the body, the detectives
talked with the roomer who had discovered the fearful
crime. Harold Shell told them-he was 30 and drove a
taxi. He had had a room in Mrs. Litchfield’s home for
some time, he said.
“T finished work around four this morning,” he related.
“I had a bite to eat, then came home. I wanted to be sure
Mrs. Litchfield had enough wood to cook breakfast with,
so I started to go into the woodshed.”
Shell said that the inside door to the shed was custom-
arily locked and the key kept on a hook near the door.
But’ when he looked for it, it was gone.
“I thought she had forgotten to leave it,” the taxi driver
continued. “So I went to Mrs. Litchfield’s bedroom. She
wasn’t there. I had a hunch something was wrong, so I
went around to the back door of the shed. I went inside—
and found her.”
Coroner Howell now had completed his preliminary ex-
amination of the elderly woman. “This is the worst crime
I ever have seen,” he told them. “Whoever killed her is
definitely a sadist. The upper torso was deliberately mutil-
ated—undoubtedly after she was dead.”
The coroner estimated that the murder had occurred
sometime during the previous afternoon. “But that’s just
a guess,” he added. “I’ll have the autopsy started first thing
tomorrow morning and we may be able then to fix the time
a little more definitely.”
ue
on ey" grpere
o VT ALELL 4
Police Chief Clyde A. Warren, of Salem, Oregon,
sought man who might have death weapon in valise
After the coroner had supervised removal of the body to
the Howell-Edwards Funeral Home, Captain Friese and his
assistants again questioned the roomer, seeking information
that might throw some light on the brutal crime.
“The last time I saw Mrs. Litchfield,” Harold Shell said,
“was Friday afternoon, when I left for work. Saturday,
when I got up, she wasn’t around. I figured she had gone
out shopping. Just before I went to work, a young fellow
came to the door and asked if she was here. When I said
she wasn’t, he wanted to know when she’d be back. I told
him I didn’t know. He said he was an old friend of hers
and would try to come back later to visit her.”
Shell said the stranger looked to be around 25 years old,
was slightly built, wore glasses and had blond hair, a pointed
chin and narrow shoulders. He had carried a suitcase.
“Mrs. Litchfield’s son might know who he is,” Shell
suggested. ©
The officers were well acquainted with the son, Claude,
who had left the city police department to become farm
labor representative for the Salem area in the State Em-
ployment Service. After sending Houser ‘and Parker out to
canvass the neighborhood for anything that might shed
light on the murder, Captain Friese used the victim’s tele-
phone to call the home of her son.
Claude Litchfield was stunned by the news of his
mother’s brutal murder. He said he would get there as
_ quickly as possible.
Upon his arrival at his mother’s home he was asked by
Captain Friese whether he knew the stranger described
by Shell.
“Right now,” he responded shakily, “I don’t know much
of anything. This is a horrible shock to me. T’ll have to
have time to get myself together.”
“IT know how you feel, Claude,” the captain said gently.
“But whoever killed your mother has a long head start
on us. We want to catch up with him before he gets too
far away.”
Litchfield said he was unable to recall anyone who might
fit the stranger’s description. ‘Mother has taken in lodgers
for quite a while. I couldn’t begin to remember all the
people who lived here. The man Shell saw might have
been a‘former roomer, just stopping by for a visit.”
Dismissing the matter of the unknown caller temporarily,
Captain Friese asked Claude if ‘the knew of a possible mo-
tive for the vicious slaying.
“I shouldn’t think it could be robbery,” Litchfield replied.
“Mother never kept much money around the house. But
T’ll see if the household cash is in its usual place.” He went
to her writing desk, rummaged through a drawer until he
found a small metal box. It contained currency amounting
to $65. ;
This did not, to Captain Friese, eliminate robbery as a
motive. The murderer might have been unable to find the
money. “There is anothes possible motive,” he suggested to
the son. “The brutality of the crime suggests that someone
had a grievance against your mother. Do you know of
anybody ‘who did?”
Litchfield shook his head. “No, I never have heard of her
having trouble with anyone.”
The captain questioned Litchfield at length concerning
his mother’s background.
She was a native Oregonian, Claude said. She had moved
to Salem at the age of seventeen and had lived there almost
continuously ever since. In 1904 she married George Litch-
field, and in 1911 they moved into the house where she had
been murdered. She had lived there nearly forty-one years.
The elder Litchfield had served in the Spanish-American
War, suffering poisoning in the Philippines. This left him in
ill health until his death in 1925. At that time he was a
rural mail carrier in the Rosedale district south of Salem.
“When Dad died,” the son related, ‘Mother took over his
mail route and carried it for many years.
“She was a member of the Baptist Church,” he added,
“and had been active in the Spanish-American War Veter-
ans’ Auxiliary.”
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9°
ALEM, the tree-lined, flower-decked :
S$ capital of Oregon, is a peaceful city of
some 30,000 in the heart of the scenic
Willamette River Valley. Violence in this
beautiful community is rare; murder vir-
tually unknown.
Thus it was a decided variation from
the usual report of routine crimes, when
the desk sergeant at police headquarters
heard an excited voice boom over the tele-
phone, “I think my landlady’s been mur-
dered!”
The sergeant snatched up a pencil, shoot-
ing terse questions as his fingers flew over
the desk pad, noting down the informa-
tion. Then:
“Okay, Mr. Shell. We’ll send a squad
over there right away. And please don’t
touch anything,” the sergeant said.
At 4:40 that Sunday morning, June 8th,
1952, a police cruiser screeched to a stop
in front of 81-year-old Mrs. Susan Litch-
field’s one-story frame house at 1333 Waller
Street, one of Salem’s quietest and oldest
residential areas. Patrolmen William De-
Vall and Vernon White alighted and hur-
ried to the rear of the modest dwelling.
Waiting by the back door was a dis-
traught young man. “I’m Harold Shell.
Mrs. Litchfield’s in there,” he told the offi-
cers, pointing to an attached woodshed.
“Tt’?s—it’s awful!”” He led them to the out-
side door of the shed. “I went in this way,”
he said. “She’s lying near the door that
goes into the house.”
The patrolmen entered the shed. In one
corner, between a huge chopping block and
a pile of split wood, lay the crumpled
body of a white-haired woman. She was
wearing leather work gloves. Her face
and the upper part of her body were cov-
ered with blood from ugly wounds. Near
the body stood a heavy, single-bitted axe
and a piece of stove wood, both stained with
blood.
At the ghastly sight DeVall uttered a
smothered exclamation,
White bent down, for a closer view of
the victim of Salem’s first murder in 17
years. “It looks,” he said, ‘‘like she was
first hit in the mouth by a fist. And some
, of these blows on her head must have
BY LARRY WARREN
Suspect in Litchfield murder, man being
held in city 160 miles from scene; for
second near-fatal attack on other woman
20
|
Slain owner of lodging house, 81!-year-
old Mrs. Susan Litchfield, victim of
| fiendish assault of the sadist slayer
|
On floor of woodshed attached
to the house bloodstains show
spot where elderly woman had
been struck down and mutilated
21
ee a ee nt ene
disorders, head-
sness or stomach,
28 are Ste today
ie) 2
LJ Pulte 1012, ipaeyi
PICK
wsstands now
The Persistent Roomer
continued from page 43
once, But I knew I'd seen him somewhere :
before.”
Keith was not overly perturbed at seeing
a stranger in Mrs. Litchfield’s home. After
all it was a rooming house and visitors came
and . went. ‘
He slept until 6 o’clock, dressed and re-
ported for work. He did not see his land-
lady before he left. This was out of the
ordinary but certainly not alarming, con-
sidering Mrs. Litchfield.
Susan Litchfield was a white-haired little
woman who took bristling pride in her inde-
pendence. “I’m past 80,” she would tell
friends at Calvary Baptist.Church. “I’m past
80 and I ask no help except from the Lord.”
In the past 27 years she had established a
reputation of old-fashioned respectability for
her place. She sometimes took in couples, but
usually her few guests were single oars
preferably churchgoers.
George Keith arrived home at 4:40 Suidey
morning. It had been a rough night in the
hack. He thought he would wash up and go
to bed right away. He got his towel, soap
and toothbrush from his room and walked
down the hall to the bathroom.
When he flipped on the light he saw that
the washbasin and floor were splotched with
blood. It looked like someone had had a
nosebleed or had: tried to bathe a wound.
Keith stepped back into the -hall. There
were more bloodstains. They seemed to lead
to Mrs. Litchfield’s own quarters. He won-
dered if. his landlady could have had an
accident.
TE DOOR to her apartment was unlocked
and half open. He pushed inside and called
her name. There was no answer. More blood
spots trailed across the kitchen floor.
Keith followed the trail out: the back door
to the woodshéd. The shed was inky black
inside. When he pressed the light switch he
saw a scene from a slaughter house.
Mrs. Litchfield’s body lay on the plank
floor beside a big oak chopping block. She
. was fully clothed. Her head, what was left of
it, was a few inches from a neat stack of
kindling wood., Her long-handled axe lay
beside the bodythe blade stained with blood.
A chunk of stove wood bore a big scarlet
stain on one end.
It was plain at a glance what had happened.
Someone had gone to work on Mrs. Litch-
field like a-maddened woodsman, chopping,
chopping and chopping. Later, Dr. William
Lidbeck, the Marion County autopsy surgeon,
counted. 14 axe wounds on Mrs. Litchfield’s
head and shoulders.
Keith stood stunned for a minute. Then he
dashed for the telephone. His call to police
headquarters at 5 a.M. brought a-couple of
squad cars to 1333 Waller Street.
Chief Warren took personal charge at the
scene, aided by Captain Stanley Friese and
detectives David M. Houser and Wayne Par-
ker. With them was Coroner Leston Howell.
Howell’s preliminary examination of the
body indicated the murderer had a long head
start on the police. “She’s been dead quite
a while,” he said. “Maybe 12 hours.”
Chief Warren pointed to the rough work
gloves on Mrs. Litchfield’s hands: “That fits
in with the time,” he said. “She would have
been wearing those gloves if she were garden-
ing in the afternoon, or if she came out. here
to get a load of wood.”
Keith said the old lady always brought in
stove wood before evening.
Warren’s crew photographed the scene and
gathered up the meager evidence in the wood-
shed. This consisted of nothing more than
the chunk of wood, possibly used. as a bludg-
eon, and the axe. The axe handle was as
clean as if it had been scrubbed.
When the coroner’s crew started to’ remove
the body, the chief. stopped them abruptly.
Stooping beside the body, he carefully re-
. moved the gloves from Mrs. Litchfield’s left
hand. On her third finger was an old fashioned
engagement ring and gold wedding band.
The chief stood up, shaking his head. “I
thought we might find a robbery dangle, but
this looks more- and more like the work of
a maniac.” The others agreed.
HE BLOOD on the woodshed floor was
smeared by what appeared to be a man’s
‘footprints, though none were clear enough
to obtain an impression.
‘They retraced the bloody trail that Keith
had followed, back through the kitchen and
into the bathroom.
Probing the basin and drain, the detectives
, recovered a number of tiny shreds of human
flesh and one sliver of bone. A detective
picked up a hand towel which bore unmistak-
able..signs of blood.
“What do. you make of it, chief?”
“Plain enough; the killer caught Mrs. Litch-
field in the woodshed and cut her to pieces
with the axe. Then he walked into the house,
dripping blood like a hog butcher.
“He went through the kitchen and straight
to the bathroom here. ‘Then he scrubbed him-
self up. Looks to me like it was somebody
familiar with the house.” ‘
Keith appeared to be lost in his own
thoughts. “It must have been him,” he said.
“Who?”
Keith described the strange visitor who
had awakened him the previous afternoon. He
told them he had seen the man before, but
couldn’t remember exactly where.
The description furnished ‘by Keith was
sent out oh an all-points teletype while the
Salem officers continued the investigation.
The motive was still a puzzle. Mrs. Litch-
field’s unlocked cash box was in plain view
in a living room desk. It contained $65 in
cash—a usual amount, according to friends.
Her purse was. in her: bedroom. It con-
tained no money, but its other contents
appeared undisturbed.
AROUND the neighborhood, Mrs. Litchfield
had a reputation as a woman with a sharp
-rongue., “She was very, plain-spoken,” one
friend said, “She popped’ right out with any-
thing that came into her mind. Sometimés
she hurt people’s feelings.”
By stretching the imagination, this quality
could be construed as a motive for -revenge.
Accordingly, Salem detectives were set to
ringing doorbells, questioning - neighbors,
friends and relatives. —
Marion County sheriff’s deputies joined with
the police in a wholesale roundup of hoboes
along the railroad and in the jungle camps.
Mrs. Litchfield’s home was near the Southern
Pacific Railroad tracks.. Several officers held
the theory that she had been killed by a rod-
rider who had been surprised in the woodshed.
Fingerprint experts dusted the axe-handle
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3.
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and turned
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page 53)
Murderer in the Woodpile (trom page 45)
spectacled youth carrying the suit-
case who had appeared at the room-
ing house on Saturday looking for
Mrs. Litchfield had been seen by a
second person on another occasion.
Mrs. Mary Robbins, who lived a
block down the street from the mur-
der scene, said she had seen the
young man early Friday evening
walking toward the victim’s home.
Her description of him was identical
with the one given by cab driver
Wambley.
This meant that the unknown
youth must have stayed somewhere
in the neighborhood Friday night,
since Ed Wambley had seen him at
the house Saturday.
“I want every hotel, auto court and
guest home checked,” Chief Warren
said. “Meanwhile, I’ll get out a bulle-
tin with a description of this guy. He
shouldn’t be too hard to spot, if he
hasn’t ditched his suitcase.”
E very law agency in the West
Coast states was alerted, but nothing
came of the bulletin all that night.
Monday morning was no more pro-
ductive. But at one o’clock that af-
ternoon, State Police at Grant’s Pass,
some 200 miles south of Salem,
flashed the report that a suitcase-
carrying hitchhiker fitting the de-
scription of the wanted man had
been picked up there.
The man told a story that was
fishy in every detail, according to the
state police, but six hours later, after
some far-ranging verification at-
tempts, it proved to be one of those
cases in which something that sound-
ed like a lie was the truth. The youth
was cleared and released.
Within an hour after this lead fiz-
zled, Detectives Parker and Houser,
one of the teams checking on places
where the suitcase-carrying youth
might have stayed, struck paydirt at
the YMCA in downtown Salem.
The desk clerk listened to the de-
scription they gave, then said, “Sure,
I think I know the fellow you want.
He came in here Friday afternoon,
registered for a room and went up-
stairs. He went out a bit later, was
gone a couple of hours, then came
back and said he’d found some
friends and was going to stay with
them. We let him check out without
charging him for the room, since he
hadn't done anything but drop his
bag there.”
The youth had registered as Mar-
tin Forbes, of Tacoma, Washin
Chief Warren realized it might
fictitious name, but he called Tacoma
police and asked them to check it out.
Meanwhile, in a discussion of the
case in the chief’s office, Captain
Friese suggested a new investigative
tack. He reasoned that since Mrs.
Litchfield had been such a me-
ticulous person, she must have kept
a record of her roomers. If they
could find that record, they could
start checking out any names in it. If
her murderer had been a former
roomer, his name should be listed,
and sooner or later, they’d come
across it and something might turn
up in their checking of the man.
Chief Warren agreed it was a good
idea and they went out to the Litch-
field home. In a dresser drawer in
the slain woman’s bedroom, in some-
thing less than an hour of searching,
they found what they were seeking,
46
a careful listing in a little notebook
of all of Mrs. Litchfield’s roomers for
the past five years, together with
sums they had paid for their rooms.
Leafing through the pages covering
the past couple of years, Chief War-
ren suddenly exclaimed, “Look
here!” He pointed to a name entered
approximately a year before.
“Martin Forbes!” Detective Hou-
ser exclaimed. “The guy we're look-
ing for!”
“He probably looked up Mrs.
Litchfield on Friday,” Captain Friese
theorized, “and she offered to rent
him one of her rooms. But that
doesn’t explain why he came back
the next afternoon and asked for her.”
“Maybe he tried to borrow money
from her,” Detective Parker ‘suggest-
ed, “and she told him to leave. He
could have come back for another
try.
What followed the discovery of
Martin Forbes’ name in the victim’s
roomer list proved to be one of those
one-in-a-million coincidences which
sometimes crop up to wreak havoc in
a homicide investigation.
Within the hour, Tacoma police re-
ported that a Martin Forbes had in-
deed been living in that city and rel-
atives said he had left by bus for’
California the previous Thursday,
with the announced intention of
stopping in Salem to look up a cousin
who had recently moved to the Ore-
gon capital. The cousin’s name was
furnished.
T he Salem detectives found his
name in the telephone directory and
rushed out to talk to him. To their
astonishment, they found Martin
Forbes there—with an ironclad alibi
provided by his cousin and members
of the latter’s. family. They all swore
that Forbes had not been out of the
house all day Saturday or Saturday
night. He was stunned to hear of the
murder of his former landlady, but
he could offer no clue to the identity
of her murderer.
Returning to the station, the detec-
tives now heard from Dr. William
Lidbeck, who had just completed the
autopsy on the slain woman.
“You’d better start looking for
another death weapon,” the doctor
reported. “There’s no doubt the axe
and piece of cordwood were. used on
the woman, but they didn’t cause her
death.”
He explained that the shape and
depth of the three most, serious of the
14 hideous wounds in the victim’s
skull indicated that a sharp instru-
ment approximately one-and-a-half
inches wide had been used. to inflict
them.
“I'd guess it was a carpenter’s claw
hammer,” the pathologist said.
Chief Warren listened intently.
This substantiated Captain Friese’s
theory in regard to the bone splinter
found in the bathroom. The time of
death was estimated to be a six-hour
period between 2: 30 and * 30 p.m.
Saturday.
Close on the heals of this report
came one from the technicians who
had processed the murder premises.
No fingerprints had been found on
either the axe or the wood bludgeon.
And only useless smudges were
found elsewhere in the house, prin-
cipally in the bathroom.
On Tuesday, detectives talked to
the grocer’s deliveryman who had
en an order of staples to the
Litchfield home Saturday morning.
He said Mrs. Litchfield paid him $7.70
from her purse and he didn’t think
she had very much more money in
the handbag.
Robbery was eliminated as a pos-
sible motive for the vicious killing,
but the probers were left without an
alternative. As for the slayer, about
all they knew for sure was that he
must_have brought the claw hammer
weapon with him; it was established
that the victim did not have one in
the house.
0. Thursday, the fifth day of the
investigation, with the other phases
of the case in a stalemate, the squads
checking out Mrs. Litchfield’s former
roomers came upon one Albert Wil-
liam Karnes, who, people who re-
membered him said, closely resem-
bled the description of the stranger
with the suitcase.
Karnes, it was learned, was a man
in his early twenties. He had stayed
with the elederly woman a couple of
years before, in 1950, when he was
driving a bus for the Chemawa In-
dian School just north of Salem. His
wife had been with him then. A
check of persons who had known him
turned up nothing to implicate him
in the murder, but Chief Warren or-
dered a more intensive check on the
man,
Detectives soon learned that.
Karnes was on parole from the
Washington State Reformatory at
Monroe, where he had been serving
a one-year term for burglary. Even
more significant was the information
from prison authorities that Karnes
was known to have sadistic tenden-
cies.
This made Karnes a prime suspect
at once, and Warren ordered all-out
efforts to locate him.
The suspect's wife was found
quickly, but she had no idea of his
whereabouts. She had divorced him
while he was in the reformatory,
It was learned that since his parole,
Karnes had been supporting himself
by doing odd jobs as a carpenter, and
that he was known to carry his tools
with him. Chief Warren ordered an
all-points bulletin for his arrest for
investigation of murder. —
The following week, police in The
Dalles, Oregon, which is 160 miles
northwest of Salem, reported that
they had a prisoner who might be the
avidly sought Karnes. On Saturday,
June 15, 1952, a week after Mrs.
Litchfield was slain in Salem, The
Dalles police had arrested a youth
who gave his name as Bill Davidson
for burglarizing the home of Mr. and
Mrs. Robert Innis. Mrs. Innis, 35, had
surprised him in the act of robbing
her home, and he attacked her with
a claw hammer and fractured her
skull. The assailant fled, but was cap-
tured the next morning in, of all
. the basement of the Innis
ome. He said he had returned there,
figuring it would be the last place po-
lice would look for him. He readily
admitted the attack.
A fingerprint check quickly estab-
lished’ that Bill Davidson was a
phony name; the suspect was in real-
ity the eagerly sought Albert Karnes!
But while he openly admitted the
burglary and assault on the house-
wife, Karnes denied he had been
anywhere near Salem in weeks.
Through the efforts of Chief Warren,
_this was proved to be a lie. The chief
had him identified from his mug shots
by the cab driver and neighbor who
had seen the _ suitcase-carrying
stranger.
Also, when his picture was pub-
lished in the newspapers, the pro-
prietor of a chili joint on State Street
came forward to say he was certain
he had served a meal to Karnes on
the afternoon of Mrs. Litchfield’s
murder.
~ And when police located the hotel
where Karnes had been staying, they
found the suitcase which witnesses
had seen, and in it, there was a claw
hammer.
Confronted by these incriminating
developments, the 24-year-old pa-
rolee admitted the murder of Mrs.
Susan Litchfield. In the presence of
Salem officers, Chief Jack Lyons of
The Dalles police, and Wasco County
Deputy Henry Re, Karnes dictated a
full confession to a circuit court re-
porter.
Karnes said he had arrived in
Salem late on the afternoon of Fri-
nt June 6th from the coast. He
laimed that he had gone to Mrs.
Litchfield’s house to look for his ex-
wife, who had divorced him while he
was in the reformatory. He said he
spent about 20 minutes visiting with
his former landlady, and then left.
The next afternoon he returned,
found Mrs. Litchfield in the wood-
shed, and bludgeoned her with his
claw hammer, which he had taken
out of his suitcase. He then struck
her with the axe and a piece of stove
. wood to make sure she was dead.
Speaking calmly and dispassionate-
ly, Karnes went on to say that after
killing the elderly rooming house op-
erator, he had gone to the bathroom
of the house, where he washed up
and changed his clothes After that
he made a hasty search for money,
and found $30 in his victim’s purse.
Then he left Salem by bus for Port-
land, and later went on to The Dalles.
Although Karnes emphatically in-
sisted that robbery was his only mo-
tive, authorities were convinced that
sadism had prompted the savage at-
tack and mutilation which took Su-
san Litchfield’s life, and that it was
sadism as well which had prompted
the second, near-fatal attack on Mrs.
On June 18th, Karnes appeared be-
fore Circuit Judge Malcolm W. Wil-
kinson in The Dalles and pleaded
guilty to burglarizing the Innis home
and attacking Mrs. Innis with his
claw hammer. For these crimes he
was sentenced to serve 15 years in
the Oregon State Penitentiary at
Salem.
H- still had to answer, however,
for the crime of murdering his for-
mer landlady. Early in August, 1952,
he was brought to trial on this charge
in Salem, and on August 9th, the jury
returned a verdict of guilty, with no
recommendation for mercy.
Albert Karnes was thereupon sen-
tenced to die in the gas chamber at
the Oregon State Penitentiary. The
sentence was carried out on January
30, 1953, and with Karnes’ death,
Salem police closed the case on the
murder which, even after the killer’s
confession, lacked anything like a
credible, clear-cut motive. kar
The names Ed Wambley, Carl Pres-
ton, Mrs. Mary Robbins, Martin
Forbes and Mr. and Mrs. Robert In-
nis, as used in the foregoing story,
are fictitious.
KARNES D4
42
Albert W.,. wh, MXNKBHA gassed OR® (Marion) January 30,
1953
The Persistent Roomer
The stealthy visitor seemed to know his way around old Mrs. Litchfield’s
rooming house.
He scrubbed himself neatly after butchering the landlady
BY JAMES L. BOGARDUS
Salem, Ore., July 7, 1952
™@ GEORGE KEITH tossed irritably in his bed, half awake,
wrestling with the pillow, but determined to get back to sleep.
The sounds of a drowsy spring afternoon reached him
through the window: the drone of bees under the eaves .
the swish-swish of Mrs. Litchfield’s rotary sprinkler in the
front yard . . . the metallic whirr of a lawn mower across
the street . . . distant shouts of kids playing sandlot ball.
It was Saturday, June 7, 1952-~a day that would be long
remembered by George Keith and many others in quiet,
shady Salem, Ore.
Keith was a roomer in Mrs. Susan A. Litchfield’s modest,
half-century-old home at 1333 Waller Street. Saturday after-
noons were always a headache for him; there was too much
noise.
He knew how it would be if he didn’ t sleep. He’d be groggy
and red-eyed all night in his cab. By 4 a.m. he’d be so punchy
he would hardly be able to find his. way home.
Keith turned the pillow over and buried his face in the
cool side. Just then—later he thought it was about 2:30
p.M.—he got the uncomfortable feeling that someone was
watching him.
He rolled over, facing the door. A man-was standing half
fi.
Detective Houser, left, and Captain Friese examine blaod stained axe and stove wood found in woodshed.
in the doorway, his hand still on the knob. Their eyes met for
a long moment.
The man’s eyes had a peculiar animal quality, glittering
_and malevolent. His hair was blond and lank, combed back
straight from a broad, waxen forehead. Many hours after-
ward, when Keith talked about it to Salem Police Chief
Clyde A. Warren, he recalled the man as “a wild-looking
little shrimp”.
“He was a frail young guy, no more than five-feet-six. His
face was pale and unhealthy—mushroom colored. He had a
big nose, one of those long, watery beaks that’s always snoop-
ing. He was sort of twitching and wetting his lips. He made
me nervous.”
Not a word passed between the two men. Seeing Keith
awake, the intruder stepped back into the hall, softly closing
the door behind him. -
Keith heard. the footsteps fade down the hallway. He
stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, shrugged and turned
back to sleep.
“His face seemed familiar,” Keith told Chief Warren. “I
tried to place him for a while. Then I gave it up. I figured
maybe he’s some guy I hauled in my cab sometime, or
maybe a guy that roomed here (Continued on page 53)
A
FRONT f
PAGE DETECTIVE,
October, 1952
Albert Willic
7 ee ie seyesat pr Tye
: : our wyrTe y= a yaa 5S ee ooo ane aN Se ee id Se Sa, eS
a Kelley affair happened in August, = Among 900 men Id the Oregon pen “Ts the main line getting ee the o}
” Hike us, they were all caught. They stayed «3 ee fae *s eee ee saath _ timer shot back. :
x ‘ dave. though. A week was the best "=! se0 58 BF : 0 sing with * “No”
. ae 8g one old-timer who . 80-odd years old now ~~ “Then I don’t want it.’,And he ‘nected
tat wis still in the prison the following and ee cy in rae eg prison for 48 | on eating the regular food. That is, he
» when Tom Murray hanged bimcell (cn . si the old days before’ wouldn't accept €B8S 3s a favor, but if
prison reform when the main idea was they were left where he could steal them
y ates : ae
ey te caver fellow, brighter." punishment rather than correction and. | he’d do that. as lie did.
salvage, He remembers the whipping post , This old fellow’s one strongest idea is
42 oes remember how that case dragged ee . :
ig ery Kelley and Willos were Side oe: ~ and the old practice of hanging prisoneri, that he wants to get out, but you can
i | teptieves and one thing and another up by the wrists overnight at the chapel" imagine how helpless he'd be—80 years
Evtor * ore than two years. but they finally door. : = : #1 old and 48 years behind the times.
ree hanged, That was another double ex: 2° This oldtimer! yout Be hiss; That brings me to another principal
ae i ri 19, 1928, if y ie anont because he might possibly get out | point I'd ke to make—the unnecessarily
écutiod. April 19, 1928, 1 you ca ee . : : i
gS -°" some time—has never been in an auto- tough time an ex-con has keeping out of.
fuses to be a trusty or ac-;' trouble after he has done his time and
% Dates are im rtant in prison, because ———
m1 ses an = cept any special favors. He quit going (0 “I me os pen 13 years and four
#*by means of them time passes and months eget ars ce
vies when tbe starte talking. eon q
7 3 months. I’d be there yet if the governor
; roll into years. T death 1 few years ago he had t h his teeth
ee , o have his teeth. © :
24 Shortly after Tom Murray s eat extracted and naturally his gums werer hadn't commuted my life sentence to 20
a date. » mobile. He re
mays,
~~ was made a trusty, and from that time on 2 | : i
“1 did all the prison’s outside electrical sore. Incidentally, he wouldn’t have an * years. Thirteen years four months is what
“3 have made me a trusty anesthetic. _ 20 years amounts to with full time off for
“Vou can have a special diet of milk * good behavior. oo
we i] the danger there was
a I had had my fil! of t- and eggs and mush for a few days,” the =".
“of my deputy warden told him.
a t
Prandeth Kolloyv. left, ard James Willos, after they
were captured following their successfuk break:
The AMAZING. STORY |
OF CONVICT Hy
TOM MURRAY, | |
a
| OREGON STATE
PRISON’S NOTORIOUS
ESCAPE PLOTTER
AvuTHOor’s NOTE:
I am a convict.
Seven years and a few months, ago, a judge
sentenced me to a term of thirty-five years in
prison with much of the same nonchalance, as
of acceding a request to play golf with a friend.
One year and a few months ago, Governor
Julius L. Meier signed a commutation, reduc-
ing my original sentence to twelve years. That
means, as this is written, that in a compara-
tively few months I shall have my freedom.
That Judge believed as do so many others
firmly believe: That fundamentally, excessive
long-term imprisonment is the only possible
solution for reformation and rehabilitation of
men. After more than seven long years: of
serving time, I am still unconvinced that this
belief is right, For, if punishment is the only
consideration, how much punishment should be
imposed? How many Judges are able to de-
termine how much punishment, or how much
reformation, or how much human agony there
are in five years, or fifteen years, or twenty-
five years of imprisonment? ;
The State Prison at Salem, Oregon, where I
am, has been the scene: of many sensational
and murderous escapades. The penitentiary
used to be fairly easy to “beat.” But of re-
cent years, due to the efficiency of its present
Warden, James W. Lewis, and his able assis-
tants, Eugene Halley, Deputy Warden; M. W.
Miller, Superintendent’ of Cell Blocks, and :
Joseph Murray, Bertillion expert, it has de- hee: ie ee ; : 3
veloped into one of the hardest strongholds in x : ees i oh : ket
the United States to escape from. This state- + f i y Oe
ment was not written without taking into con-
sideration a score of other fortress-like pris-
ons with their almost impregnable walls. But | ; ; y oe . be j ; ; %
the author knows. He has seen too many po- sag "ra | ip 1! es i ‘ ; t
tential escapes start—and fail, i } ‘
I was a trusted friend of Tom, Murray—
of “Blackie” Willos—of “Crowbar” Kelley—
and of “Oregon” Jones. During the early part
of my confinement, I planned and plotted with
that quartet for hours at a time, for days, for
weeks, ‘to beat the joint. They successfully
escaped beyond the walls on different occa-
sions in those early years, were caught and
brought back, I too, escaped beyond the walls,
and was also caught
and brought’ back,
A man may success-
fully pull a good One end of Oregon
caper, or he may suc- State Prison’s fa-
cessfully beat the mous “Hog Alley.”
walls. But — then The steel barred
erp gf
we ¢ hs
a
what? The entire door in the left fore-
world is against the ground .is the one
crook. The odds are that Tom Murray
tremendous, some- and his pals went
thing like millions to through on their mad
one. After a little dash for freedom
Tom Mur-
ray, one of
the most
dangerous men
ever confined in any
prison
DUNCAN
Convict No. 9256
Oregon State Prison
SES bok” FPR SAFEST WE WSPTAD
>
sensible retrospection, it is not sensible to as-
sume that one mere human can expect to suc-
cessfully outwit millions over any period. It’s
just not in the books. I do not lay claim to
becoming suddenly religious. As yet, I have
not acquired the “bull horrors.” But that
pire episode that ended so fatally for my
riends, convinced me that as far as I am con-
cerned, the game cannot be beaten.
Tom Murray’s downfall proved conclusively
to me that “Honor among thieves” is a
myth, That the criminal’s greatest fear is
the ceaseless treachery from other criminals
—betrayal and double-crossing by his asso-
ciates.
As I see it, there is but one way to elimin-
ate that fear, that treachery, that double-
crossing. And that is—get out of the muck!
If this story will be the means of helping
p E 15
eS
ak:
REIN Cah Oat elt y cr Duis SE ns tegen
inot Imposed from’ the superiz
tendent’s office; it is not a ramb-/¢
ling: haphazard $ proceeding but}!
earried on catong well
plans 1
KELLEY, WILLOS BETRAY
LITTLE SIGN OF WORRY"
[ tGontinged from pare 1) I
be et aa se. s. ay
+. SORES ret et aE
»
i
}
a few minutes ‘later the other willy’
‘follow. All preparations had been
completed last night for the ex-
Sot Spe eae eee
definited iii
Zk GES SAREE Rte
a pigees ice a iar la # ecution,
Me Ae eae My rar oe Be : iB oo ee Aside from the prison officiula, |‘
SAREE Rl IETS eS A AR ag Re. : iil te wee | Sheriff Bower of Marion county,
oor ee ‘s ee the clergymen who will attend the
condemned men in the last mo-
= |}ments, the coroner and newspaper
fjmen will witness the hangings. A
| {local Christian Science practition-
: er will administer to Willos’ spirit-
Scheduled To Hang To Hang! at 8: 30 ual needs: Kelley has not indicat-
; | {ed what minister, if any, he wish-
This Mo a Both Pass, jes to attend him.
. - Case Historic
WEEN Night sp Quietlye | See omen Kelley and» Willos were sen- | BMMpccsace
eee | |{tenced to hang for their part in
} aa | |the elaying of M. J. Holman and
John Sweeney, guards at the state
penitentiary, at the time of the
: spectacular break on August 12,
Few Wil Wit 1} 1925. 4
Dates - Bert ‘‘Oregon”’ Jones and Tom
Break at te ce peed Murray also participated in’ the
Papert 1028.5 break, but Jones was killed in the
MORE: gids i effort to escape and Murray, ar-
aes am rested Jater at Centralfa, commit-
a a ted eulcide in the prison white|
5 A c: awaiting trial, Kelley and Willos |
mere cee he a ‘oneshalt | have been sentenced to die on:
ree NE / ESA, an years that thy have® faced” the three separate occasions, but each
, , } : prospect of: deathéo ne gallowlh 4 time legal steps takén in behalf
a ' Ellaworth Kélley” an f mes, wv il- of the condemned men. brought
: lod last might’ caly ly: ait in: about a delay and when these fail-
"dee az tach tanita He ht ish ee Sewers the death cells ‘atiithe s pele |: ed, it was necessary 2 resentence | oi
ees tentiary, the: mornings light. that them. > eer
¥ will be the’ last ee All vie im ; The last unsuccessful: effort: to
obtain commutation#ot their sen-
tences was “made: last week, pre-
Aventing the carrying out of the ex-
ecution on Friday, April 13, when
Governor Pattereon issued a fina)
week’s reprieve.
. The governor finally daclaea
Magainst granting clemency Wed-
ma nesday, giving out a statement in
nom which he discuseed at length each
of the arguments made for com-
muting the sentence.
The most recent of the attempts
to prevent the execution by legal
means, was made last August,
when an effort was made by Kel-
ley’s counsel to obtain his release,
through a habaés corpus petition |
on the ground that he was not le-
thie, mortal exist¢
Kelley went to bed; at :
time, andé layéether a
RL Pig. Jos. om,
still sitting. up a€ 11 c
his actions did-no
or ner eas; |
Em eae ip shel ps ne awe
Gallows in it dedth eh =
v ’ Hope nui pen .
z ATRIA “STARTS
legos peared
ae te
omtienid thon
hc Seeder ks Mee Ree rs
aves He nt sas eB ig ume
i PARAS LESS stay
that he participated in the break.
The habaes corpus writ was de-;
nied.
Bec iNNOTT PLANS NOT TO
OMT ar Sinn y
St BEd See coer td,
| gally held {n the prison at the time |
array, probably
onvict to keep
alls in the whole
.odern crime
inues:
THREE
was telling the
ruth, He did get
convicts next sin-
- Jimmy Cole, and
| to carry out his
tter. He said that
ig the guns in the
it o'clock, the fol-
ay evening.
son was dressed out
his scheduled time,
Wednesday, his sen-
ed. And thereafter,
ing few days, Mur-
ing went about their
alert, strictly avoid-
r which might excite
uspicion, only shoot-
nt veiled glances at
- morning, Jones and
hed into the prison
CETTE E ECCT renee
A ae r : het !
mpage HEN hs eer awe - onal
a ”
ek
¥ ,
if
:
Could HOLD HIM
pF alt
West wall of the Oregon State Prison. 1—marks the spot where Convict
Jones fell when he was wounded in the hip; and 2—indicates where Guard
J. “Milt” Holman was shot by Convict “Crowbar” Kelley
dining room, their faces wreathed in smiles. They were
secretly rejoicing over a success, a victorious conquest that
they did not believe could possibly fail. They had been
placed in the-same cell in the North wing of the peniten-
tiary, with a clear view of the front gate. And they had
seen Jimmy Cole enter that gate at eight o'clock the eve-
ning previous with some twenty-five other trusties—and
under his right arm, he was carrying a small, compact-look-
ing bundle. That was a sign that he had the guns.
Murray and Willos were seated in other parts of the
dining ‘room, and Jones and Kelley shot each of them a
broad, expressive wink, signifying that everything was all
right, that two fully-loaded forty-five automatics were
inside the walls at their command—and that their longed-
for freedom was to be had for the taking.
But when the men interviewed Jimmy Cole in the yard,
their joyous hopes took a sudden, dismal drop.
“No, the guns weren’t there,” Jimmy: explained.
Jones’ eyes were suddenly wide and filled with anxiety.
“What? You say they weren’t there?” he demanded,
Jimmy’s face was white and strained under its tan. He
winced and turned away as Jones’ eyes burned into his.
“When I couldn’t find the guns at the field,” he said, “I
thought that Johnson had forgot all about his promise as
soon as he was dressed out of the joint. So I took a chance
last night and went down to the Chink’s shack myself. |
found the five gallon can all right, but—the guns and am-
By
LE
DUNCAN
Convict No. 9256
Oregon State Prison
|
| i
Hie munition was gone,” Jimmy finished.
septa Less than two weeks after this in-
cident, Tom Murray brought down
a small clipping which he had taken
from one of the Portland papers, and
he showed it to Jones, Willos and
Kelley. The clipping mentioned the
fact where one George Johnson had
been arrested in a prominent town in
_ the State of Washington, with two
Army automatics in his possession.
The clipping further stated that John-
son was a former inmate of the Ore-
gon prison and that he was being held
on the charge, ‘convict carrying con-
cealed weapons’ and subject to five
years imprisonment.
The missing guns incident was fully
clarified. The convicts had been
double-crossed by one of their own
kind. :
Mr. Miller, all this time, knew by
watching Oregon Jones and Kelley’s
actions at various times that they
were planning something and surmised
that the others might be incorporated
in their plans, but Murray and Willos were cautious. The
Principal Keeper watched or rather tried to watch all their
associates, and finally, during a slight laxity, he noticed
that they were in contact with Blackie Willos often, and
were seen to be in conference with Tom Murray on several
occasions.
MURRAY was discreet though, and played his cards very
carefully. To all outward appearances, he was making
good on his job in the boiler house, a job of considerable
importance and trust, and the officials were in serious doubt
as to his complicity for some time, but finally they were
convinced that he was playing with them and was plot-
ting with the others.
And all this time the four men were truly plotting. They
were absorbed heart and soul in concocting a series of po-
tential escapes where only violence and brute force were
tolerated. All four were “merryied up” constantly, and
escape plot after escape plot was discarded until they had
planned an “out” where bloodshed was imminent. They
conversed of murder quite as casually as the ordinary man
converses of the price of butter and eggs. Kelley and Wil-
los would wince perceptibly at the casual remark by either
Jones or Murray of “rodding off the guy” but controlling
their emotions, they blithely agreed with the others on
every phase—game to go through.
And in the meantime, while all this escape plotting was
23
oe "fo
No Prison Could Hold Him 25
Lidins Hii
ein
wel
{i I
hee 7
Tibcecndllt
Wt
ie
|
of the North
ck of Oregon
——is the spot on
gh which _
3 cut their
ha dotted
heir route over
-there they fas-
own which they
front lawn
rden or Principal
antil after a mur-
‘or freedom had
1ey were not only
ell together, but
a cell overlook-
ey’s office, where
‘as located, and
‘re able to watch
; that important
line a plan as to
re it at a future
s had instinctive
t a break was im-
they were per-
on the threatening
could do, was to
noticed that Tom
f the North Wing
2 and Jones would
| or hands, at the
ones, The officials
nen were planning
someway, but the
‘urning the matter
iat during the ball
time for the con-
(Above) Another view of the
guard tower where Tom Murray
and his gang shot it out with
their keepers. 1—shows where
Guard Holman was sitting when
Convict Kelley attacked him;
2—is where Convict Jones was
brought down by Guard
“Slaughterhouse” Davidson;
and 3—where the hearse drove
up for the body of Guard
Sweeney, precipitating a tremen-
dous demonstration of jeering.
Dotted line shows escaped prison-
er’s route over cell block roof.
victs to stage their prison de-
livery act, as the guards were
usually busy at the ball dia-
mond, and several back areas
were unguarded for quite a pe-
riod at a time.
With but a vague conception
as to how the men were to effect
their escape, he decided to take
a chance shot to thwart their
apparent efforts, believing that fia
a bad hunch is better than no ae i de te radial
hunch at all. So with this thought, he stationed a guard, a
man mentally alert and a good shot, in an automobile just
in front of the main gate of. the: prison all day Sunday,
August 9th, with specific instructions to watch the top and
front of the buildings, and be prepared to halt any break
that might occur.
Nothing occurred that day, however, which differed from
the many other monotonous Sundays, and Tom Murray
and his gang went serenely about the yard, patiently watch-
ing—waiting—plotting.
On the afternoon of August 12th, the inmates received
their commissary supplies and were permitted to carry them
to their cells.
age
(Left) Guard Lute Savage, who
was shot through the abdomen
by Tom Murray during his mad
dash for freedom
(Note: There is a commissary
department inside the walls
where the prisoners may ‘spend
money, which they have on the
books, or earned in the peniten-
tiary flax mill. Commissary day
occurs once each month, and it
is a big day to the convicts.)
THESE supplies were carried
up to the cells in boxes or
sacks. A continuous line was up
and down the tiers all after-
noon, and in this line, Kelley
and Willos carried a brace and
bit which was secreted on their
persons. Also in their possession
was a large keyhole saw, a ham-
mer and a long rope with a
Seti OSS ares
hook attached to one end.
During the rush and confusion, they scrambled onto the
top of the fourth tier of cells, on the East side of the North
Wing Cell Block, and with the brace and bit, they bored
about sixty holes in the ceiling and roof. When this part
of the ceiling was knocked out, it would leave an opening
about two-foot square. After boring the holes, the men
left the board intact, however, for the time being.
A savage brightness, the brilliance of triumph, flashed
for a moment in these men’s eyes, as they gazed at the re-
sult of their physical effort. This was but the crude work
that a child could do, but to them it was a masterpiece.
It was a hole that was to lead them though the first suc-
a ae
26 The Master Detective
cessful step to freedom—or at least so they thought.
Leaving their equipment where. they had used it, they
dropped back down to the tier, one at a time, and strolled
unconcernedly back into the yard. .
They reported back to Murray and Jones that every-
thing was all right, and during the remaining hours be-
fore lockup, the four grim-lipped convicts manufactured
marihauna cigarettes, one right after the other in quick
succession, and drew the fumes of the volatile drug deep
down into their burning lungs, as if to store up excess ve-
hemence and brutality, which may be unloosened on their
enemies—guards and officials, of a steel-ribbed prison that
they detested.
T four o’clock in the afternoon, Jones sent word to a
young convict who was employed in the laundry de-
partment, that he wanted to see him immediately.
The young fellow, who was well-liked and thoroughly
trusted by Jones, met the wild-eyed desperado in the yard,
a few minutes later.
“Gee Oregon, but you're sure ‘gowed up’,” he began.
“You'll go ‘broncho’ whiffing so much of that damned
‘merry’.”
Jones’ answer came brutal and cold-blooded. “That’s the
way I want to get,” he snarled. “It’s going to take guts to
finish what I’m starting tonight, and I want to be ready.
He hesitated a moment and then his voice suddenly
changed. “But say Kid, I want to tell you my reason for
KX eee]
Ne UT \
¢, bonwes
or :
aj 3
ines, aS > es = don a ao _ 7
t
SS
‘batch of clean clothes, will you?”
seeing you. Run down to the laundry and get me a whole 4
The young fellow’s forehead lined with perplexity;
he nodded dumbly. ;
“I want underwear, shirts, strides and clean-
smelling socks,” Jones continued. “And while
you're at it, why, make it pretty snappy.”
There was some ominous note in Jones’
voice that caused the convict to shiver
slightly. He was gripped by a sicken-
ing premonition that he could not
have explained.
“T’ll get ’em,” he said. “And
it ain’t none of my business
what you want with them.
but you're acting funny,
for some reason, and
I’d like to know
The 32-20 caliber Smith and The
Wesson revolver carried by
Tom Murray on the day of then tu
his escape .* uttered
“And
don’t t:
The 5
’,
ahs
y
The turnkey’s office at the Oregon State Prison where the arsenal was located. 1—is the closet where the guns and
ammunition were kept; 2—is the heavy cuspidor used
by Murray to smash the lock on the closet door; and 3—is
the barred door leading to the prison chapel through which a general jail delivery threatened The
24 The Master
(Right) Convict Clarence John-
gon, serving a life sentence for
murder, who aided Principal
Keeper M. W. Miller of Oregon
State Prison at a desperate mo-
ment in Tom Murray’s most
escape
in progress, these four convicts
were intent in making prepara-
tions for their flight from the
prison.
First, Blackie Willos ap-
proached Mr. Carey, the Head
Chapel Guard, and requested
that he be allowed to change
cells, from the South Wing to
the North Wing. Willos fabri-
cated a false tale that he was ©
unable to get along with his
present uncopgenial cell-mate,
that he wanted to cell alone in
the North Wing, where he could
view a little scenery of the out-
side world, from the front of the
building.
The ‘guard listened to the tale of woe, absent-mindedly.
This was not an infrequent incident, of convicts requesting
that they change cells. It was an everyday occurrence, so he
sanctioned this swarthy featured inmate’s request imme-
diately, and dismissed this incidental episode from his mind.
BU when Mr. Carey uttered his consent to this move,
Willos suddenly felt like emitting a yell for victory.
His heavy lids drooped like half-drawn window shades to
hide his triumph. For Tom Murray was already celling in
the North, Wing, with a front view from his cell. Mr. Carey
had also permitted Jones and Kelley to share the same cell
in the North Wing, a fact that was unknown to the Warden,
Detective
(Above) Roof of the North
Wing Cell Block of Oregon
State Prison. 1—is the spot on
the roof through which Tom
Murray and his pals cut their
way to freedom. The dotted
line indicates their route over
the roof to 2—there they fas-
‘tened a rope down which they
slid to the front lawn
the Deputy-Warden or Principal
Keeper Miller, until after a mur-
derous break for freedom had
taken place. They were not only
permitted to cell together, but
were placed in a cell overlook-
ing the Turnkey’s office, where
the arsenal was located, and
where they were able to watch
the routine of that important
place, and outline a plan as to
how to capture it at a future
date.
The officials had instinctive
knowledge that a break was im-
; he pending, but they were per-
plexed and bewildered as to how and when the threatening
escape plot was to be executed. All they could do, was to
keep the convicts under strict surveillance.
Yard Captain Fisher, and Mr. Miller noticed that Tom
Murray often glanced toward the roof of the North Wing
Cell Block, and on numerous occasions, he and Jones would
make gestures: toward it with their head or hands, at the
same time, conversing earnestly in low tones. The officials
finally came to the conclusion that the men were planning
on going over the top of the building someway, but the
exact time was a deep problem. After turning the matter
over in his mind, Mr. Miller deducted that during the ball
game on Sunday, would be the logical time for the con-
(Above)
guard to
and his
their ke:
Guard KE
Convict
2—is wh
brought
“‘Slaugh
and 3—,
up for
Sweeney.
dous den
Dotted lir
er’s route
victs to s
livery act
‘usually b
mond, an
were ungu
riod at at
With bv
as to how
their escay
a chance
apparent ¢
a bad hun
hunch at a
man ment:
in front of
August 9th
front of th
that might
Nothing «
the many |
and his gan;
Ing—waitin;
On the a
their commi
to their cell:
—
—
An artist shows
how the daring
fugitives de-
scended to the
prison yard
where they
dashed through
blazing death
toward freedom.
Slipping out of
line while march-
ing to Oregon
penitentiary’s
dining hall, four
convicts raced to
the cell block, left,
and hackeda
hole through the
ceiling.
|
Oregon Jones, leader of the desperate convicts, was |
ot down as he made his wild attempt to escape. |
f |
\
.
‘ #09
18
HE mu
block 4d
jangle «
electric motor s!
whine and a
slide " Slow
open while U
for the com
Presently the
men wound
hall.
It was the
penitential
1925. In
unusually
perate hop
passed thes
dom Cay
suspecting
gave the
“Now—!
“Oregon”
He slipp
followed
block and
tier.
“We've ‘
hoarsely
He atta
his compal
with two
“Fastet
discovered
st
a
~
Tee ST
2
knife nor chisel urged his companions.
At that moment the chisel broke
through the ceiling and the darkening
night sky came into view. The men
chipped the opening with vigor but it
seemed ages to thein before the hole was
big enough for a man’s body to pass
through.
Jones climbed up first. He was the
leader, a desperate character, serving 20
years for assault and robbery. The
second man to pass through the hole was
Tom Murray, doing 20 years for a bank
robbery at Florence. Next was Ells-
worth Kelley, up for 20 years for aiding
Jones to break jail on a previous occa-
sion. Last was James Willos, with the
comparatively short sentence of seven
years for burglary. They raced across
the roof.
“The rope—quick,” Jones com-
manded, “before the guards sight us and
open fire.”
Murray stripped off his shirt and from
around his waist took a long length of
rope. It was in five sections knotted
together. He anchored the rope and
tossed the free end over the edge of the
roof, in front of the warden’s office.
“T'll go first,” Jones instructed.
“Murray will follow. We'll
break for the turnkey’s office and
get guns. Willos and Kelley,
you follow as fast as you can.”
Quickly Jones went down the
rope and the moment Murray
was beside him they dashed
around the corner of the building and
headed for the rear building housing the
turnkey. ay
Then they suddenly came face to face
with Warden A, M. Dalrymple. The
warden had forgotten some letters and
had returned for them, He. was un-
armed and Murray threatened him with
his wicked looking knife.
“It’s Tom Murray !” the warden cried
in warning at the risk of his life. Then
he fled in search of arms,
Not daring to take time to silence the
warden, the convicts dashed up the stairs
and into the turnkey’s. office where
James Nesmith, the turnkey, was on
duty. With him was a guard known
te the convicts as “Slaughterhouse”
Davidson. Both were unarmed.
Murray said later that he knocked
Davidson to the floor and that Jones,
completely losing his head, beat Nesmith
brutally. Davidson claims that he
kicked Jones in the stomach and fled
to arm himself. At any rate, the two
convicts won command of the turnkey’s
office.
Suddenly bullets spattered against the
walls inside the office. A hail of lead
was coming from Tower One.
“Get the guns!” Jones cried.
7
WN Ot nk
wohl eb? Gta mA eR Ay 1 Se SSIES d 2
tata epee tea detbintru Aice ute aae ak
RAE RIBERA EE IS OAM, 10a SOMERS RI Daee OLS FG
Murray grabbed a heavy cuspidor and
battered the lock of the arsenal. The
shots from Tower One were doing no
harm, The guard was shooting blindly.
“He won’t get us that way,” Murray
cried. Then the shots stopped. “Step
on it. We've got to get out there and
help Willos and Kelley.”
Snatching shotguns and a pistol from
the arsenal, Jones and Murray ran from
the office, firing as they went. Then
they saw Willos and Kelley. The two
stood in the prison yard with hands in
the air, stopped by the leveled guns of
Guard John Sweeney who stood on top
of Tower One, and Guard James Hol-
man; crouching behind an iron fence.
Between the two desperate convicts
stood Guard Pete White in a position
that protected Willos and Kelley from
possible fire from the other guards.
Growling defiance Murray threw guns
to Willos and Kelley; and Sweeney,
seeing four armed convicts, ducked into
the protection of his tower.
“Come out of there and throw your
gun down!” Jones shouted to Sweeney.
But there was no answer. Sweeney was
looking for a chance to fire at the
breakers from safety. Protecting him-
self as best he could he leveled his gun
through an opening and fired. Murray
had been waiting for the guard to show
himself and blazed away accurately.
Sweeney fell dead under the fire.
“We've got to get into that tower to
get over the wall,” Jones cried hoarsely
to his companions, They started across
the open prison yard, a deadly quartet,
intent on escape. But suddenly from
behind the iron picket fence that offered
scant protection, Guard Holman re-
sumed firing.
[Continued on page 63]
DYNAMIC
Leslie !
when
right is
itives £
DETECT
DUANE ee
HENNESSY
HE murmur of voices in the cell
block died down at the shrill ~
jangle of a bell, Somewhere: an
electric motor started with a high pitched
whine and a guard shouted, “Let "em. © =
slide!” Slowly the cell doors grated
} open while the convicts’ waited siler Es
f- for the command toy
hall.
It was the dinner hour at Oregon state
penitentiary on an August evening in
1925. In the line four convicts were
unusually alert, buoyed up by the des-
perate hope that before another hour had
passed they would have dashed to free-
dom. Covertly they watched the un-
suspecting guards and then the leader
gave the word.
“Now—let’s go,” whispered Bert
“Oregon” Jones.
He slipped out of line and three others
followed. They sped back to the cell
block and quickly mounted to the third
tier.
“We've got to work fast,” Jones urged
hoarsely. “Give me that chisel.”
He attacked the ceiling fiercely and
his companions helped as best they could
with two knives.
“Faster—make it faster before we’re
discovered,” the man who had_ neither
sperate convicts, was i At aiigaage a , , ‘ ie
i attempt to escape. : SAAT ns, Ells
fe
ed a heavy cuspidor and
x of the arsenal. The
ver One were doing no
rd was shooting blindly.
‘ us that way,” Murray
' shots gstopped, “Step
ot to get out there and
| Kelley.”
‘guns and a pistol from
s and Murray ran from
as they went. Then
and Kelley. The two
1 yard with hands in
y the leveled guns of
ceney who stood on top
‘nd Guard James Hol-
behind an iron fence.
desperate convicts
: White in a position
Villos and Kelley from
the other guards,
nce Murray threw guns
Kelley: and Sweeney,
| convicts, ducked into
his tower,
there and throw your
ies shouted to Sweeney.
answer. Sweeney was
hance to fire at the
itety. Protecting him-
suld he leveled his gun
ing and fired. Murray
for the guard to show
ed away accurately,
| under the fire.
get into that tower to
Jones cried hoarsely
They started across
ard, a deadly quartet,
But suddenly from
ket fence that offered
Guard Holman re-
‘om page 63]
DYNAMIC
c eta -
ban ta fctice
eee ) TRECLEY AND WILLOS} |
|CAPTURED
TMURRAY | a
|CapruReD 5 a
eA
osneeD manase=s :
i Torn Millers at
“mand of the gan
was killed. Philli
apture. | ae
e, took com: © ANY £
~ JRELLeY AND
RA |WILLOS
Bary see
)
YAKIMA —
eo
ve
f
Ah
BW owuite SALMON 6 ws
ee
HOOD RIVER
* E TO .
a eile HOOD RIVER] ©
; WILLIAMETTE RIVER |
3 BRIDGE TO WEST SIDE TO 4
[AVOID OREGON CITY POLICE] -
: ; NisCPorrAno NVICTS SIEZE | |
a LS FARM AT NEW ERA|
ca
ABANDON CAB
APAR PRATUM
__, SALEM@S? * SRSONERS
fe)
Leslie Newman, above, played the tien .
when the convicts held him as hos AG a
ight is the tower for which the pee 7 ret
ives battled with the ferocity of caged animals.
DETECTIVE
@AdoLD UP AT MONITOR :
pe:
aA,
ned ae
i
ye
ts fe eine «tit
Mi BES sane ~ ‘ Tae
mt We, a 7 \s i cae
21
re.
ee
HANGING WILL,
BE DEMANDED
Adams Refuses -to Make
Confession — Remington
Held as Witness
é
Mtoe tana ao ans cee ante Seams petro
Charges of first degree
Murder will be filed against
J.C. Adams, nelf-contessed
killer of Officer Sam Pre~
Cour, recording to District
Attorney George Coadding.
Although he talked quite
{farm hirose from wht h to sent oa tively shea taken ince Gan, ee
tthe alarm, {
| feds thi, morning,’ when :
Farlow Sees Arrest > | s Me , RALPH JENNINGS AND
tuken to Medfory be fu.
“Chie” Parloaw told of the arg: af to sign any statement. : JOE KELLER EXPRESS
rhest, his story coinciding in de-| Whethis a@ aay coroner! REGRET OVER DEATH
ttall with that of- Remington. a fury WH pass Judwemens is prob. ! OF ASHLAND POLICE
“Yo heard the Oren and naw!
ptementicatl aecordine 1, Mero Cus. ! OFFICER AND SPEAK
s]/Sam stop che car. Then [ saw ;
the dine, who Stid that Grete ar ahe
ee ararh on atl saw it careen lease were an evident ft was oes. | AGAINST FO x. OF
topen the gute--then | leaped ov-
ger a bank and rushed awa to a
isajofficer, was three times shot
tly! after 7 o'clock this morning’! ; Trom side to side of the pave-t sible that this myiete h,. his qeegys OFFICER WORKING
, 8 confessed hold-up man andi ent Po realized semecthing Wun ed with ALONE.
a
Se ’ (yylater To heard the shots 1 called | had called upon. six tecat omen PORTLAND. Ore. Jan,
nd ga quarter after the murder i Qiticer Herb Meore sand Poljee (to holy themaetves in Boos gee (LP) Sheriff Ralph Jeu-
cnatody by Biate Traffic Officer | ¢|cniet Clause, of didn’t see the for jury data Rewevers thas ae ‘ j :
1 fm the county jail at Medford |. <"ootine. mut fsaw the ear mpeed Eroup imeiuding T Ho Simpsen (mings, of Jackson county
1 ah td im ler char le Bit 1). MeNair. Fed Warner. Ras ‘wher informed of the mur-
Prescott wher the officer a ee | Uf was on Pariow'x instant pe pCbary. Vue Kreort and Duse Pe: der of Officer § Prescott
|yort Of the Crapeds that tie im- 1 Orson, ! i ;
ge = : > th ‘ : at Ashland th morning
14 gi: he hed failed to produce |! Rolete oar acct) Su hie District Attorney George Cod-. tos , to-
s fi e BeSoto sedan he was|;
its the cnjek terture was started. ding Inaieated that the churge ‘day tald the sheriffs of the
ponessed he had stolen the car'|
Mrs Tat Lolor and iver gon [ef Gr! deerce morder would’ state at the closing session
ont two months &£0 qc ere walking alone (he strear | oOTry Ree ee Lor ie rol “the annual convention
' ‘
ideath nenaliv, whieh WOuRL Mean
1 “7 mS .
Py rove und hen tex minutes | Deputy Coraner HE ¢ Steck
hr h BEM Phe Cupesecap at Sam Yesoo
> @n the Boulevard between the | me ae ae a _ PBB ne Je Ateeeon pea seks gis teal
: - : ee teu yay , ue Carl lem ton te A WR | Ss t-
ion street intersections, Th antag See a ety
Bee tat F : . Re : . On of Adams. mode g coropiete [re peace officers.
tor of the Standard Oil SEOTVICGT | My God) Almithts 0 Presears istatemem butane being weld a< as i] Wu ery luck
eho ys : : ' fe Wave sided po : oe tie ns eve ic
street intersection saw Prescott} maid fo hate evied us Adasn io Mini arial Witness Mrs Lede; | ,
_ : hot him as he ieaped from te! . .
, Batehelar Rea Ih Ss : Hatchelo:
esler Batchelor and her do-ja machine, They telowed the of}.
ney View district were Witness-{#
f
“er two shots
a
and xan, Allen of Rebtleman and one of the
[Valles View. “Chie” Farlow } thst Tespeetod citizens -of
; i : y
} pa OTs Whe mis, he called as] Sonashices Oregon. This denth
: ‘ erry Asherafr Pay Dunk and: Ritoerwes of the erie _
- | aioe : 4a , ’ : fe
i) Lives his home as Wenatchee, ‘ others jomed hakiedtately in the! eae Lie a i : coke oe proof of the fol
. } : 3 ‘ . roe
companion af (dams : {ic seared Thre body day von) ras i . , ay of pertaitting on officer
. ; : . ape BETES avement for 20 minutes. until! 4 ite Work alone.” Jennings
murder, gave the information |» 6, MrOWAL OF the coroner Pron! | 1 ere re
’ remarks ta the
Adams and Was an CVC-Witness {] rolls ran had Tetien from pris ne Gea aes
: : oT ee Psherifl" convehtion,
& held 45 a material witness in nil hand und jay on the pavenient | doe Hitler “iseean Chief at
Ie express confidence that he be) oe Lim wndieating he had wt : 17 1 ane Sure Theft Mureau. xalg OL
: hem pled fo ger ii
e \
Us Weapen, bat. gee fiver Prescot wae 2 wonderful
Fad ho ehaner to draw On the!
: 1 : Roe ! { : latficer and said it was onty sui-
\ by Officer Moore, Adams had Bale tee /Weed-Elamath Falls Bigh |. jas a eyes ic an
: . i, i : | 3 oe
pe Nerr the kd Rarron ranch a Adams. when usker inte rus way Pund Appropriated (Hithwav work tiaSehaoisl
fing on his two sntit cases. nt a adm eat othe hhaeting Vie! by California ; Sheratl blurtisar of Porttand,
net ie- highway, attempting tg a mMedately reeweding — to Obteer! ce f Was peebeetey Progident af Tire
7 : £ « . ~ . i ‘SONG Sitar arty teenies geuaiors nike . . : * are) St3 * Ss? sd of | Swine gt: ae
Y Waa armed with a 3S special| -' (Continues on Page 3) Lo AT A ee ee ee
‘ Fe et ae ee
Ty Which investigation reveal.
i ‘tion of $180.000 as loen made erite Hower nf Marian county
badly accounting forthe fact q available in Hnumediate use on | 82S Petleried vice preadenut and
When placed under arrest by |B pine Weed-Khoreth Falls pien ° Shere Aschim. of Titlamook
yanied hy Pat Dunn, who Wiy by the bereau of pulsiie | REE NES Tetiecicd 5 Obed
‘ ne a ove £ H i Aas are tha: rie iat 22 bl - Se ee
THopal citizens, joined in the} |! FO ND) ye ee hrea he :
4 : : thulture. aecordine to cote | OM AN
Rerington : gees ‘ ! :
renee
: . it eet ;
Pat Csbnanelet) Ai Sinprdeta | fur the tho suecessive year.
|
i ! .
sth i ee TeCe Ved today tes thre dk
sos hs * arta sie _ a aa + e +f , :
Way graphically told hy Rem- } Secording do tentative Rrraonge | She he ol manera:
mg { is 1; me ee i i a ‘ : ; : Thix htrbwav ja Srerters art
— ee ecord meg to A’ signer Mens Gnnoubeed thas iternoan
eid ocrom Rlemath Pali fase
prnington, Adams had Ek pide ene. Bam oe
Seamer Cot tage trove - em “tr
lg for San-“Diegoe--He- WS fae,
Bi purchased some food for} th,
08, Adams soughi to impross |!
qo doaed uarane sented revated the!
Pinal-wetivition.
‘reached Medford and +
ey
‘as SamaRET TEN |
) ye se ‘reddizb-brown- hair. weig!
Sam Present fr about 169 pounds, he appeal
ttle concerned. He is sal
‘to have’ remarked, “Guess m
‘neck’ i stretch for this” 2
+ Questioned by Captain ae:
lent_of the stats. traitie fore
ax to why “he had shot Prescott,
M . Whe _Remingtom left: ‘Adams said: .
core.” en et of
the car he had ‘carried with him a coutdwt-amerd Tu -coiaie Tats
the police statios, i bad a& atgle 8
‘the .32 short Martin which . we ss
| Adams had used in Killlog Pres-_ car didn't 12” . |
| cott. There were three empty ~ “But murder is Worse,” said
| shells in the gus. Two of the the officer. ; = |
ballets were found in the body——i "Yon, but, I told him to stop
‘a third had entered the back and and he didn't.” Adams remarked.
‘nassed cleanly thraugh the abdo- «| shot dam and that's all there
Re a A As te iy Ms he Nin it Nanas aaNet wales mee lanes nt MEA ke mle
men. 1S tay it.”
struck Three Tires “ias Torn in Sew York
An autopsy, performed by Dr Luter Adaimnsa tak o{ deers he
*. G. Swedenburg. E. A. Woods waa born in. New York on Maren
aod C. A. Haines rewealed & 3, 289% and is aged 33 year.
broken vertebrae at the base of tHe saint ie left home when youus
‘the apine as the cause of jmime-'and “drifted over the United
diate death.. The first Dullet '$) siates,” acting as a salesman fer
believed ta have struck Prewott gutemuhiles, sewing machiaes.
in the Jeft arm—the second jacuug cleaners _ and. apis
struct him im the back and pass-) machi Cs. | =.
ed through his abdomen. The: About two months aso, accord-
third, fired according to Reming |{ nag to. bis story, he fanded 1:
ton as Prescott lay prone, enter-: Salt Lake, « Just before that he
ied the head at the dbase spine. tad been in. Idaho and. at Low-
| X-fay examination wag “nevewsary iston. had been on picked! np owith 2
to reveal the location of the bul- stolen ear to his possession. - “jie
let. W hile the abdomen wound: said he “lied about his age” and
would have proved fatal, i was' | was placed in the ‘training achool
ithe third. ‘shat which caused . in-! ‘there, and made his. eseapo.- vat
stant-death. 0 att” Lake Be-etole-the per, “ae
rs Adam's Story = ores tag fo hig story. . When ip
“Yes, } shot him," Adams sald) Ide ho, he told Captain Taleni,
when questioned | by. Officer Moore.! Le stole. Idaho. plates, for the eat,
OA crowd of near 160 bad gath- and when in Washington, he ‘stole
ered. around” the police station Washington © plates | which “wert
aud there were angry rumblings (cn the car at. the. time of Tye
of” violence” ‘when the killer. was’ ‘traredy. Sterna
Ibrought 1m... eon a 4 Asked cwhether he euticel inf
‘
L About five feet, to Inches (all.jany, hold-u uns ho remarked “Wh: |
= P gree eenerne enero line a . 7
} . : ‘ . 2
he : Ay, ah aye .
4 a si . or : 7 m4 . “i 37)" “ %
y : 24.4 3 O..¥ ast : Poon ies ae, ae ‘ a vy noe
d : ; hy eat 24 ae eR OS i meg
sive , ee ae 4 > Na
t en OO Seer en Alt EAM ‘etbie te e Pe bd he Hae a ay ee,
" rece wes » pal iid we sd e POLS Lh hy HOD ALT TOO, 4 —_
: OX Denoughue }
chem in- Kismat
isting io Ashland
swith her Ante
eneneen or
vingston,
Tetnnnnentndean’
ak ae!
~ oo,
PORE, we Se
140n of Seattie waa:
iacelty Friday stap |
Ashinad-- - Hotal,... --
a a er ae a
rx load of blocks or.
- orange trucesa— i
_ Tel. 96. 135-tf,
AON gp AT
4 Oyster ae ni |
tah canteel
‘ting haa purchased |
fram the ClaycomD |g
ne ee Oe
coy, your favorite
MeNair’s Whit-:
fr candies, ize
rine ee mee ene ll
and son of Talant
, Vdsttorg fn this
Ca RE he” ee aan etl eae
The next thing I knew, Red
tie Harter — who f-nderttand ¢
row gives the name of J,
a blocks and eed: Adams, «hook me and [ apened
nt furl Co., Tel. ; .mny ides and at thar titta tha,
$89.28 car 1 wae tidicg fa stopped near
the curh, Thera Was a car park-,
sO) ghéad of aug car._atd@ 1 «aw:
(a palles alficer come toward Cur
pear and _he went pyer 1a the,
thrangh
Raf “oo %
Partlier anemtion
jariver'a license, ‘That
then told Adams—
1tO go Up and sea about it",
then. gar In heside and pry
in left slde of front and jhe pulled up thia road and drop-:
the motor “ped: qown ‘through a draw”
heen running :
Adame sitting in: the center aad”
thig officer
ha started the
which had
car,
ee i ee ee eT
4 7
ee nd
teft front done: vers
thing T ramember pwr
ithe police atfleor faked ta Adamajthia finetiag and At arted
l the papere to this thib, and Adams
ear’. Adams said na and he alsa, j
In tently to hte Mtarm road
. that he had na; way,
the ii titer “and i
‘wr will havedpuil up “tht
and }way,
‘Aged to announce
rli now hay charge
ty Shoppe. Lithia
. Phone B40 kk
vs 120-122
7 ty
taylisa, of Pate: ‘was
& city today,
\utomobile Liabit-
‘rly amage rates
MHt.. wbout~ Pedra]
ed wilh not. be
now. hefore. “they
; courre) + dikes
7 - 3
TKatsetaan, cot fMeey ats
“drop st”*
hit the curh.
Adatoe hen” Saat Raat Remigiton
the “of leey where he was going,
and the officer made some reply
fand. several short. remark # pansa~
ed between Adama and the of-
fleer but T did not elearly hear
fame, and the next thing T knew
‘Adams had the
his tight: hand and he had it
|Potnted about six inches from my}
stomach. That I was somewhat
dazed at this time, That I then;
32 revolver tn’
beeen ye
heard the police Officer” say) tof
. “put that gun away”) or
and also don't.) rhe
foollsh, and at that time the car
jumped seme and}
car Wash «till +> cunning and he:
hacked Off tha cuirh. an
CC. ilm se aie eo aa (ant an he
shooting
easuih of
houlevard road
laabiscenial Zing hula “Vn ha WwW
im Astiane,
=
| aue-t tat
red aboue.
where the
Oregon,
che
thea Parific
ott Aanlanc. erie. and:
ihe ear
romomered WH ¢
neat at pmee meneatl tee
‘car south
ied un: way Sit
the hroken wins Aynwik®e rol
deor. That aa ] remem: |
cher f{hia man Adama, then fel the . ps
ein tow
ar ummerce recsived
ne miear ke and.
a ty i § “ 2
aoe
ieading
ifero wae
tie gate bars ack amd’
SoM AWATOW or yt
self-confesand
of Off_leer Sam Preacott.
ten mare thia statement to the
‘district attorney akter hetng "take!
jen to Medford. The entire state-
ment covers hig association with,
Adams from the time’ “that het
waa ‘picked up’ Inst evening.
Roming-
“tay Es: ti
iad xYanHe ib
rofia and Portiang
ings, whleb are 84
atruetod, ia. WOFR
This morsing
wry Moxaer of ¢
telparam Traga I i
-setary af tha Reg
ugimeresa: We a
Laid granite. Appt
time to help putt
pred ha nrhber
the ¢ar,
ef the Ashland pra
ef an inveatigatid
Mc mittes conaisting al
Faia .thata.
Rotrert: W. Sawyer
A. Lac kaif ¢, A. N
oxranito inven displa
Chamber offies, Fi
af the Logislative.
‘2. Hamilton, ° wha
‘of the. Oregon Stat
Commerce; bas o¥
ichamber,- ‘wot for
PG et, rel sige we hat we
but the other Ora
An appeal hag
the Astorla Chan
merce far indersel
land granite In thé :
ing. “Efforts are
certain © interests
Yaquina sandston!
isaid to. de. inferiol
land product, The |
bas not passed the
as has the Ashlant
te ee pe
The “Oregon “St
tturers’ Assoctation
gon State Chamber
aro aiding tn the
4 Was ven adrian aed
—~
tO:
%
oS
The Editor's
- Last Werd
t-
(, Sammy Prescot, {a dead.
Courtedus, even ¢ tempered,
efficient, Sam waa the vie-
tim of A nelf-confessed crim-
inat, For three and 2 half
Yearn Ram had been on the
pelice. Job in Ashland. He
stirtad the- work full | of
youthful enthusiasm. Iden.
tification work was his
hobby and = fingerprinting
and photography atudy fas-
claated fim, He became pro-
Tretent” im thts work, -wnt-
‘thig knowledge, combined
‘with @ fearlessness and a
Sense of loyally to the oath -;
‘Of office he had taken aad
& desire to protect the pube
Me from the criminal, made
him an ideal officer,
We Knew Sam
He was ambiious, Ic never
Waa a mintter of seeking
self-plory—it was a matter
of performing his duty
which motivate] him kk his
tirelens efforts. He wan the
Nemesic - of rumerinners,
And he had a reputation of
‘“wieotiag square’ wlth evr-
fo well,
eryorne, whether it was a
friemd or ai criminal. Sam
played the Kame square.
_Esen_thomegh | ramerurners
reseeie? his vighance, which
proved; costiy to them, they
respectet him and knew
theese woul; he no “rali-
roading’! on mere seeions
ebarges than their offrasc
juatified, :
Hut that was only a port
of hie wOrk, He was always
on the fob, and ex courteous
interesiad response was ai-
Wes Rie lO any requret for
~esxtetance from: thre: --towns-—--
people whore property be
sought to protect. He did.
his. work well, He played-
the game agnarc. We poss
na jedgmen; on his murder
er—we only grieve that Ko
Promising s« Ife _Shonld
“have beew ‘BO “onde. oes
Many tributes have been
. paid to Sam. Hila fellow of- |
ficers, hin chief, his friends
are grief stricken, His pasn-
ing leaves a vold, His place
te one which tt will be @if-
ficwlt to fill, Hin famity, his
Rweetheart feel so deeply
thelr loas, Words arem inad-
equate, We can bay repest
heede—he did hie work well.
onricanion
NOTE POSSIBLE
‘|relonsed on probation or probably given @ yéar in the county jail,
although—from—one- to - pears in-state prison - “could: be ausexsed-}
1 monk eRe ‘ght norntne far —AOFe "At the donet ton:
Daisy Plans To Write
Book To Tell World
‘
+, *
Los ANGELES, Jan. .23-—P)}—Dalrsy DeVoe, ee found
guilty of having stolen from Clara x “It” girl of the movies,
was Interviewed In the women's war
the county jail today and
declared, “I'l fight and yive no quarter.
said ‘1 hope they find Daisy guilty so she can’t talk ahout me.’
They'll see, I'm going to tell everything—lIU'll even write a book.”
Daisy fs to be sentenced Monday. It tx believed itkely ashe will be
against her.
All About Movie e Star nA
They say a certain person |.
-~¥ork- Native, W
City Officer Shot : : Killed at 7 O'Clock |
_-this. Morning By J. C. Adams, New.
Admits Car Theft}
Daisy was in the court room yoxterday when the “verdict wan re-
(turned and wag much eurprised, having repeatedly expressed her-
Her conviction followed a colorful trial in which a wordy battle |
between Clara and Daisy brought forth several reprimands from |
the presiding jndge. The elderly jury which found Daisy gullty of |
having fursled funds which Clara entrusted to her, was out more
than 096 hours herore a verdict wee reached.
“HE LAID SO STILL” SAYS
12-YEAR-OLD BOY WHO SAW |
MURDER OF OFFICER TODAY
Youngster Gives Graphic ¢ Description of Tragedy Which
Claimed Life of Popular Young Officer,
ifthe cur ran up on the curb and
thought they put the brakes
The officer sort ef grabbed
arm snd ran several
:and then I heard couple
| more shots and then he
| Hows. That made. me ¢ick. My
‘mamma was wick too. It was
| the way he fell—be just of hit
| his head and then he jalg there
tso still, The car drove on and
Lotber people eame up real fast
Was & lot of shots and that -;——there were lots of folks around
var-drove on-and then folks ithere—-but L.was sick at first!
cane," be halfsobbey ax he fend I didn't know what happen-
repented ‘the rtory of what d fer a Vittle bit. But I wished
he had witnessed. ihe hadn't jaid-so still”
“Me and my mamma Wasa go-, Alien, whe ig a fifth grade
ing to visit with a neighbor. 1‘ pupil at the Washington school,
heard the cop sound the whistle (ig a son of Mr. ong Mra Lester
thing on his. car.-and--saw —-him “Rachaigy aT the Valley View dis-
drive in front of the other car.) trict, ans} had come to towns
Then 1 though; they pulled him vearly with bis mother, and was
in the car amd then I heard a walking the Boulevard
shot. . iwhen the -shooling tock place.
“Then they ‘threw htm from!
ila tee ee ee le acs The story told by Mrs. Bachelor?
the as. that 4old -by
of ery “My Gog Almighty". or | WAS
something ke thot and then| hep apn,
COOPERATION OF “OFFICERS
LEADS-TO. RECORD ARREST
‘OF KILLER THIS MORNING
notified Offic-
ind
DP Very
“ec, the way he fell, it
made me and my mamnut ||
kick,” Wide-eeged, awe-strick-
en at the tragedy he hod
witnesnad at Gawn tony,
IZyear-old Allien Datchelor
hare a grephig deecripiion
ef the ecold-bloodrd muanier.
of OXficer Prescott.
“The way he fell, his
head down or something,
aad then I thought ther
‘aun.
dibs steps
a:
fell
os
a
down
same
Cooperation of jaw en! orce-| from Romington,
brought about the capture of the! ; company with Ta; Dunn,”
murderer of Officer Sam Pres-|unteer, Officer Moore started
eott within record time. Although; suuth immediately and located
Weta Plan to to ‘to Attach Rider)"
2 originally in althe kiher at ine Shady -Mprings
Killer was
‘ { : ;
“$Y take wourd- hin @as @AInp where be baad stopp! and
bervs TUT CT
“self confident of acquittal, 7° es
‘and instantly killed shortly after 7 o'clock this morning |
‘auto thief, who then fled.
‘Adams was taken into cnstedy by Siste Traffic Officer
Smith and Wesson revolver, which investigation reveal-
Be “ie the-tdea he
and Is Held in Ggunty Jail—First De-
gree Murder Charge Will Be Filed. -
Sam Prescott, city police; officer, was girs times shot
psa
/by Jamez C. Adams, 33,. set confessed hold-up man and:
RMR SE pee,
we
Less than an hour ands quarter after the murder!
Herb Moore and is held ie the county jail at Medford
| awarting arraignment on a’first degree murder charge.
Adams shot and killed Prescott when the officer sought
to place him under arrest after he had failed to produce
proper ownership papers fer the DeSoto sedan he was
driving. Later Adams confessed he had stolen the car
out of Salt Lake City about two mornths ago.
The murder took place: @x the Bouicvard between the
East Main street and Union street intersections.
“Chic”? Farlow, operator of the Standard Oil serviee
station af the Fast Matn street interscetion saw: Prescott
siop the ear, while Mes. Lester Batchelor and ber J2-
year-old son, Allen, of Valley View district were witness-
es to the murder. ;
Earl Remington, 19, who gives his home as Wenatchee,
Washington, hiteb-hiker, companion of Adams in the
car at the time of the murder, gave the information
which Jedto the arrest of \dams and was an ‘eye-witness
to the killing, He is being held #s a material witness in
the case, although officers express confidence that he
was in no Way responsible.
When taken into eustody by Officer Moore, Adams had
abandoned the DeSoto coupe mear the Ed Rarron ranch
south of tawn, and was sitting on his two suit cases at
Shady Springs on the Pxeifie highway, attempting to
“thnmb’’ a ride south. He was armed with ats special
ee A
ed tobe. broken—this proimbly accounting for the fact
that he made no resistance when placed under arrest by
Officer Moore, who was ae companied by Pat Dunn, whe
had, with at least 25 other. fora citizens, joined in the
search for the killer
Story of Remington
The story of the killing wag graphically told. hy ‘Lem-
ington, companion of _ Adamg, According to a signed
statement made this attemoomhy Remington, Adams had
picked hina np dast evening-qear (Cottage Hiroe: Hem
sington, y fighter, was boung for San Diegoi--He was
broke and hungry. Adame: iain some food for
him. Aceording to Remin: ston, Adams sought to Impress | :
Was a bad man’ ane regaled the!
. .
oe H+ wd eye sess ra hie ett ys
24}. °
+ ee
George Humphrys
Below: The victim was found in Rock Creek a quarter-mile from her house.
Charles Humphrys
sessed something that caused her to be
killed?
Burnett’s first effort to answer these
questions was to talk with Mrs. Henkle,
Eliza’s closest friend. Dazed by the
brutal slaying, the neighbor at first could
think of nothing of importance. Then
she suddenly exclaimed: “Yes, I remem-
ber now. Eliza did mention once that
she was afraid of someone. But that was
some time ago and I’d forgotten all about
it, since she didn’t seem too upset.” She
said Eliza hadn’t mentioned the person’s
name, saying only, “I hate even being
around him.”
T WAS a nebulous lead at best, but
Burnett interviewed many residents of
the remote community in the hope of
identifying the man in question. None of
the shocked farm folk was aware of
Eliza’s secret fear, but several remarked
that during the past several weeks she
had seemed unduly nervous at times.
But even though the deputy didn’t
learn anything more about the unknown
man, he heard from the neighbors that
Eliza usually kept from $100 to $200 10
her house, paying for all her supplies
in cash when she went into town. It
seemed unlikely to Burnett that a thief
would kill for such a small amount, un-
less he had been surprised by the widow
and had committed the slaying to escape
Frontier Times
prosecution for the theft attempt. Bur-
nett returned to Corvallis late that night,
only to learn that Sheriff Gellatly and
his deputies were still searching for the
fugitive bank robber.
Early Sunday morning the officers
returned with their prisoner, who had
finally been tracked down and captured
after a gun battle. As the sheriff locked
the convict in a cell and started to leave
for home and much-needed rest, he was
stopped by Burnett and given the grim
news of Eliza Griffith’s fate.
Gellatly obviously was stunned. He had
known Eliza for many years and regard-
ed her as a refined, high-principled per-
son.
“It’s unbelievable that anyone would
harm her,” he said to Burnett. “I promise
you that I'll find out who killed her
if it’s the last thing I ever do.” Knowing
Gellatly’s determination, the deputy real-
ized this was no idle boast.
But the information Burnett had un-
covered wasn’t much to go on, so the
officers went to Philomath to see wheth-
er Dr. Newth’s autopsy offered further
clues. The doctor told them that no water
had been found in the woman’s lungs,
proving that she had been dead before
being put into Rock Creek. As indicated
by the bruises on her neck, the cause
of death had been strangulation. As to
the time she had died, the doctor said
it was probably between 9 o’clock and
midnight.
Returning to the courthouse, Gellatly
and Burnett were discussing their meagre
evidence when the sheriff was summoned
to the office of District Attorney Ar-
rir Clarke, who met him with a grim
ace,
“Bill,” he began, “I’ve just heard about
Mrs. Griffith’s murder. It’s the worst
crime we’ve ever had in the county.
We've got to find the killer right away!
For all we know, he might be a maniac
who will keep murdering as long as
he’s loose. Any idea who he is?”
“No,” the sheriff replied, “but I’ve a
hunch it’s somebody who lives around
Rock Creek. She seemed afraid of some
man, which indicates he was a neighbor.
We're going out there now to check on
everyone in the district.”
Sheriff Gellatly and Deputy Burnett
soon left on that mission. They elim-
inated no one from suspicion until he
provided a solid alibi for the 9 to 12
period Friday night. After hours of
tedious and thorough checking, every
Man in the sparsely populated area was
in the clear. None of them apparently
had been away from home when Eliza
was killed.
“Looks like I’m wrong,” the sheriff told
his deputy. “I was certain the killer lived
around here. But now it appears that
anyone could have done it. Maybe a
tramp. Or a degenerate from some town
Nearby. Or somebody who knew Mrs.
Griffith in the past and carried out an
old grudge.”
_ There was just one course of immed-
iate action and that was to make another
thorough search of the widow’s house
and farm on the slim chance that the
killer had left incriminating evidence.
The officers carefully inspected the
premises, though neighbors had tramped
February-March, 1977
Above: Benton County Courthouse in Cor-
vallis, where the trial was held. Right:
District Attorney Arthur Clarke.
all over the farm, obliterating footprints
the killer must have made when ke car-
ried his victim to Rock Creek. When
darkness set in, the investigators re-
turned to Corvallis, extremely discour-
aged at failing to come up with a single
clue,
On the following day an inquest was
held. The coroner’s jury listened to Dr.
Newth’s testimony and then returned the
obvious verdict: “We find that Mrs. Eliza
Griffith died of strangulation at the
hands of party or parties unknown.”
That same day the Benton County
Court offered a $1,000 reward for infor-
mation leading to the arrest and convic-
tion of the killer or killers, and Governor
Oswald West added a similar amount on
behalf of the State.
ELLATLY and Burnett next decided
to return to the Rock Creek area and
double-check with its residents, and sev-
eral hours later they came across a farm-
er with news that bolstered their sagging
spirits,
About 6 o’clock on the evening of
Eliza’s death he had seen a_ roughly
dressed man walking along the county
road in the direction of the Griffith
place. Since tramps occasionally sought
handouts in the region, the farmer hadn’t
thought anything of it.
But the officers, determined to follow
up any lead no matter how improbable
it seemed, got what description of the
man the farmer could give. The stranger
was tall and slender and had about a
week’s growth of red whiskers. He ap-
peared to be in his late twenties.
It wasn’t much to go on, but Gellatly
and Burnett started checking the hobo
jungles near the railroad tracks in the
Philomath area. After several hours they
encountered one where half a dozen or
so transients were sprawled on the
ground, basking in the warm June sun.
The searchers’ pulses quickened when
they saw that one of the group had red
whiskers and otherwise fitted the de-
scription of the stranger.
He admitted going to the Rock Creek
area Friday evening in search of food
for the hobo camp, but he stoutly denied
being anywhere near the Griffith farm,
which was half a mile from the county
road, When his companions declared he
had returned to the camp by 8 o'clock, he
was eliminated as a suspect, since Eliza
had telephoned the Franklin family at
7 o'clock, making it physically impos-
(Continued on page 39)
21
oe
oe
Soldier of the Plains
(Continued from page 9)
Frank Baldwin led this task force forty-
two miles to reach the surrounded wagon-
train, which had held off the Indians with
gunfire and gifts of bacon and flour. By
the time Miles arrived, a truce was in
effect, enabling him to arrange a parley
with the Sioux chieftains during which
he again demanded their surrender. Ac-
cording to legend, Sitting Bull replied:
“God made me an Indian, but not a res-
ervation Indian.” The truce was at an
end.
Miles attacked to break the will of the
tribesmen, and two days of bitter fighting
ensued for Coonrod and his fellow infan-
trymen. According to press reports, the
soldiers, “outnumbered three to one,” had
to “form a hollow square” and commit the
last of their reserves to repulse the In-
dians. Once again, artillery proved de-
cisive, forcing many of the warriors to
submit, even though Sitting Bull and his
band escaped.
The supply train that Coonrod and the
others had aided carried enough heavy
clothing to outfit “an expedition to the
Arctic,” which the forthcoming winter’s
trek would make Custer’s thrust to the
Washita look like a tropical excursion.
Company C led the way into the wilder-
ness, covering 500 miles in seven weeks.
After advancing through a blizzard with
temperatures so low that the mercury
froze in the thermometer, Coonrod and
his fellow soldiers brought the enemy
to bay. Surrender negotiations collapsed,
however, when Crow Indian guides with
Miles’ regiment ignored a flag of truce
and killed five Sioux chieftains. Sitting
Bull again escaped, heading northward
toward Canada with the remnants of his
group.
,INCE Sitting Bull was out of the
fight, Miles turned upon Crazy Horse,
who had led his Cheyennes against Custer
at the Little Big Horn, Scarcely had
Coonrod’s unit rejoined the regiment than
Miles had his entire force on the trail
once again, marching up the Tongue Riv-
er despite heavy snows and temperatures
that dropped to ten below zero. By Janu-
ary 8, 1877, after a series of sharp skir-
mishes with Cheyenne patrols, the colonel
was ready to attack Crazy Horse, whose
500 Cheyennes and Oglalla Sioux were
encamped near Wolf Mountain, Montana
Territory, roughly fifty miles southwest
of the site of Custer’s death.
When Coonrod awoke on the morning
of January 8, he discovered that more
snow had fallen during the night, bring-
ing the total accumulation to thirty-six
inches. All around him tiny fires were
coming alive as the soldiers boiled coffee
to wash down a breakfast of hardtack
biscuit. With the approach of dawn, he
could gradually see more of the hill-
sides surrounding the spacious valley
where the 5th Infantry had camped.
Standing out boldly against the snow-
covered slopes were hundreds of small
figures, Crazy Horse’s warriors, singing
songs, shouting insults, and brandishing
weapons taken from Custer’s dead. To
the men below, the Indians seemed to be
springing up by magic from the barren
soil. It was a terrifying moment for the
38
younger soldiers, but familiar orders
shouted by officers and repeated by Coon-
rod and the other NCOs shattered the
spell. Soon the companies of the 5th
were swinging into action.
At first Coonrod was a spectator to
the fighting. His company protected the
artillery pieces firing from a hummock
on the valley floor. As he watched, a
Cheyenne warrior named Big Crow defied
the two companies advancing uphill to-
ward him. Big Crow’s headdress of
brilliant eagle feathers snaked down the
crimson blanket he had wrapped about
him, as he shouted that the white man’s
bullets could not harm him. Occasionally,
he paused in his war chant and fired his
carbine, booty from the Custer battle-
field.
Coonrod began wondering if Big Crow’s
boast might not be true, for slugs from
Army rifles were tearing up the snow
all around the Indian. Finally, two in-
fantrymen worked their way from one
rock outcropping to another, and Big
Crow fell mortally wounded, but not be-
fore Indian marksmen had hit one of the
snipers.
By now, Coonrod’s men were charg-
ing upward to assist the two embattled
rifle companies. Their heavy winter cloth-
ing and the deep snow slowed them to a
walk but did not prevent accurate shoot-
ing.
In contrast, the enemy was unused to
the newly captured carbines and tended
to fire high when aiming downhill. As a
result’much of the heavy volume of fire
delivered by the Indians—at least 400
rounds during the final charge of Miles’
infantry—cracked harmlessly overhead.
The relentless charge up the snow-crusted
slope destroyed the Indians’ fighting
spirit and they broke off the engagement.
For “conspicuously gallant and meritori-
ous service” during this final charge,
Aquilla Coonrod received the Medal of
Honor.
FOLLOWING the attack at Wolf Moun-
tain, Coonrod did not again take to
the field until September 1877, when
Miles and the 5th Infantry intercepted
the Nez Perce tribesmen fleeing toward
Canada. Coonrod’s unit played a minor
role in the skirmishing near Bear Paw
Mountain, Montana Territory that pre-
ceded the surrender of Chief Joseph, Nez
Perce tribal leader. Afterward, Coonrod
helped escort the captive Nez Perce to
Fort Keogh, Miles’ cantonment on the
Tongue River. They were banished to
the Indian country in Nebraska.
COONROD'S enlistment expired in the
fall of 1878, and once again he took
his discharge, only to enlist two years
later in Troop F, 7th Cavalry, at Fort
Buford, Dakota Territory. This fort, lo-
cated where the Yellowstone River joins
the Missouri, had seen a great deal of
bloodshed during the 1860s and 1870s,
but the surrounding region was now con-
sidered pacified.
Nevertheless, Coonrod found plenty to
do. His unit: “Participated in the capture
of band of hostile Sioux Indians, January
2, 1881, near Poplar River, Montana
Territory. Conducted captive Indians from
Poplar River ... to Fort Buford. ..
Many men badly frozen on account of
insufficiency of clothing and extreme
cold ...,” according to the Muster Rolls.
In six months, Coonrod took part in
mounted patrols that covered 500 miles
rounding up Indians who had strayed
from the reservation and tracking down
an occasional war party. When not in the
field, the cavalrymen drilled, shoveled
snow, built or repaired buildings, and
performed escort duty. This last task was
highly prized since it offered some relief
from the tedium of garrison life.
In the summer of 1881, Coonrod, now a
sergeant, took charge of a three-man
detail assigned to escort the paymaster,
Major C. H. Whipple, as he picked up
the Fort Buford payroll, some $20,000.
When the party left Glendive, Montana
to return to Fort Buford, Whipple did
not follow his “usual practice,” but kept
the money in the wagon he shared with
Coonrod instead of placing it in the other
wagon with three armed soldiers.
At “about 2:30” in the afternoon of
May 15, shots suddenly rang out. “With-
out warning,” Major Whipple later re-
ported, at least seven men leapt from
hiding and began pumping “murderous
fire into the wagons.” The major saw
Coonrod returning the fire “in the bravest
and most gallant manner,” but as he
watched, first one bullet, then another,
tore into the sergeant, who “continued to
fire until the loss of blood so weakened
him that he could no longer hold his rifle.”
Fort Buford, Dakota Territory. where Sergeant Coonrod spent his last days in the Army
and where he was buried until the Post was disestablished.
Bese 8 Bn a
i ae eee
pelonhed
, eeu ge”
ea ie GE
eet, EN
es,
we
eet
Courtesy U. S. Signal Corps National Archives
Frontier Times
As Coonrod dropped his weapon, a bul-
let “glanced off” the civilian teamster’s
head, knocking him unconscious. Whipple
dived from the wagon, and the terrified
mules bolted, with the major pursuing
on foot. The bandits ignored him, how-
ever, thinking the other wagon held the
money. ‘
All of the bushwhackers concentrated
their fire on the second wagon, wounding
one soldier-guard in the left arm and
forcing all three to surrender. When a
search of the vehicle failed to turn up
the payroll, the robbers shattered the
stocks of the troopers’ carbines and re-
leased them.
Meanwhile, Major Whipple had caught
up with the runaways. He climbed onto
the wagon, and with one arm supporting
Coonrod and the other managing the
mules, he drove some eight miles to the
nearest ranch. The trip proved too much
for the sergeant, who died of his wounds.
Coonrod’s body had been covered by the
time the other members of the escort
detail arrived. Whipple, after bandaging
the soldier who had been wounded, sent
a message to Fort Buford telling of the
ambush and murder.
The message arrived at about 9 o’clock
that night. Coonrod’s troop, guided by In-
dian scouts, immediately made a “forced
night march” and with the coming of day-
light began a search that lasted eight
days and covered 275 miles. Although the
cavalrymen found a shack that had shel-
tered the killers, they were unable to
avenge their sergeant’s death. All that
remained was to return to Fort Buford
and bury his body.
Today, Sergeant Aquilla Coonrod rests
forgotten in the National Cemetery at
the Custer Battlefield National Monu-
ment, surrounded by his comrades of the
Indian Wars. As Colonel William Ganoe
has written, Coonrod and his fellow Sol-
diers of the Plains “marched through
parching heat and arctic cold” and “went
through the agonies of hell... .” all this
for “a nation that kicked them at every
turn... .” For Coonrod, the last callous
act of an uncaring government came
after his death, when the Pension Bureau
refused payment to his common-law wife
and child.
Eliza Griffith’s Secret Fear
(Continued from page 21)
sible for him to have committed the
crime and got back to the camp in an
hour.
A day or two later, Sheriff Gellatly
was notified that another stranger, an-
swering the description of a man seen
near Eliza Griffith’s home a day or two
before her death, had been sighted cross-
ing a field in the direction of Corvallis.
He had seemingly been attempting to
avoid being seen. The sheriff and dep-
uties thoroughly searched the area but
could find no trace of him.
The investigation continued, but the
only progress made was to identify the
rope with which the victim had been tied
before being thrown into Rock Creek.
It was an old halter rope which had been
kept on the outside wall of Eliza’s back
Porch, This strengthened Gellatly’s theo-
February-March, 1977
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State
ry that the killer was acquainted with
the widow, otherwise he wouldn’t have
known the rope was there.
Then the pastor of a rural church a
few miles from Philomath went to Gel-
latly’s office with an electrifying an-
nouncement.
“Sheriff,” he said, “I
killed Mrs. Griffith.”
He paused while Gellatly looked at him
in disbelief. “Well, who was it?” the
sheriff managed to ask.
“He’s the traveling dentist who has
been practicing around Philomath and
King’s Valley lately.” The minister gave
the man’s name and continued: “He did
considerable work on my teeth. During
his frequent visits, we became well ac-
quainted. I invited him to the parsonage
know who
for dinner several times, and once or
twice he spent the night.
“Last evening he made what appeared
to be another friendly visit. We had
dinner and then started chatting. All
of a sudden, he began talking about the
Griffith murder. He was plainly upset
and seemed anxious to get something off
his mind.”
The pastor hesitated briefly and then
went on: “Finally, he said he wanted my
advice on something of the utmost im-
portance. I told him I would be glad to
counsel him. But he changed his mind
and went off to bed in my spare room.
Later on I heard him moaning and sob-
bing. Then he cried out, ‘Oh, why did I
kill her? Why did I do such a dreadful
thing? I pray the Lord will forgive me!
39
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DETECTIVE
“We’ve got George Humphrey in jail
here,” he said. ‘tHe denies the slaying,
but his story is full of holes. We haven't
found Charles yet.”
Clarke got Justice Lane out of bed to
issue a Warrant. Catching the early morn-
ing train, he and Burnett went to Iills-
boro, a town near Portland.
When they confronted the prisoner, a
mild-looking, shaggy-mustached man in
his middle thirties, Burnett recognized
him as one of the men who had helped
him search for the body of the slain widow.
Questioned for several hours, George
Humphrey continued to maintain his com-
plete innocence. He defended his brother
with equal vigor. At last Burnett tried
a shot in the dark.
“You mirht as well know the truth,” he
said. “Before she met her death, Mrs.
Griffith told one of her friends that she
lived in constant fear of some man. Do
you know why we had you arrested? Be-
cause we hive proof that you are the man
she feared!”
@ GEORGE HUMPHREY turned pale with
fright.
“No,” he cried, “it wasn’t me! It was my
brother. He was always hanging around
her place, watching her. He wanted—it
was his idea to Bs
Suddenly he clamped his jaw shut and
refused to say another word. But he had
betrayed a guilty knowledge of some-
thing, whether or not it was the actual
murder, and he was taken to Corvallis and
held for further investigation, :
Five days later, Sheriff George G. Han-
cock of Washington County located Charles
Humphrey in a logging camp and arrested
him. He, too, was brought to Corvallis.
The two suspeets were not allowed to
talk with cach other. Like most of the
citizens of Philomath, the Humphrey
brothers had been looked upon as upright,
honest individuals, and their alibi that
they had spent the night of June 2nd in
bed had scemed acceptable.
Their story had been verified by a
neighbor; but now it was seen that there
had been ample opportunity for one or
both of them to slip out of their cabin,
walk the mile or so to the Griffith house,
commit the crime, and return to bed as if
nothing had happened.
But the same thing had been true of
other neighbors, and the Humphrey broth-
ers’ reputations had given no cause for the
slightest suspicion.
Gradually, under persistent questioning,
both of the men weakened in the protesta-
tions of innocence. They admitted that
they had not been able to vet the attractive
widow out of their minds, that on more
than one occasion they had discussed the
fact that she lived alone and could not
summon aid if she were attacked.
Certain of the men’s guilt now, Burnett
hammered at them with questions, point-
ing out the inconsistencies in their stories.
The actual evidence against them was so
slight that a trial could not be risked with-
out stronger proof.
At length it came. George Humphrey
sent for Burnett,
“I want to get it over with,” he said.
“You’ve got the goods on us. I killed Mrs.
Griffith. Charles was there, but he had
nothing to do with the murder.”
He then made a complete confession.
Planning the attack on the lonely widow
a day in advance, he said, he and Charles
went to her house at about eight-thirty on
the night of June 2nd. They secured a
halter rope from the shed, then burst into
the house.
Mrs. Griffith was combing her hair. She
whirled about, screamed in terror, then
ran to the kitchen and seized a butcher
knife. But she had no chance to defend
herself. While George was advancing
on her from in front, Charles grabbed her
from behind. Throwing her down on the
couch, they tied her with the rope, gagged
her with Charles’ handkerchief.
“I knew she would tell on us,” Humphrey
said, “So I grabbed her by the throat and
choked her until she was dead.”
Charles had been at the bank on the
previous day and—just as Burnett had
surmised—they knew about the sale of the
homestead. They ransacked the house,
but got only a few dollars.
Between them they carried the corpse
down to the mill pond, George taking the
feet and Charles supporting the head by
means of the rope, which was tied around
the slain woman's neck,
M@ CONFRONTED WITH his brother’s
signed confession, Charles Humphrey
lost his nerve and made a statement that
told the same story.
At their trial, the brothers repudiated
these confessions and pleaded not guilty.
But on May Ist, 1912—exactly eleven
months after the death of Eliza Griffith—
both men were found guilty of murder in
the first degree. Circuit Judge J. W. Ham-
ilton sentenced them to be hanged in the
prison at Salem.
On Saturday, March 22nd, 1913, Warden
B. K. Lawson supervised the execution of
the death penalties. George Humphrey
dropped through the trap first, and a few
minutes later Charles Humphrey followed
him to his doom.
The eccentric dentist, Dr. North, after
explaining the bloodstains on his coat as
resulting from a tooth extraction he had
performed, had been allowed to leave
Montana. His only crime had been his
apparently incurable delight in telling tall
tales. He was never heard from again.
Thus the baffling enigma was solved, and
the slayers forced to pay for their crime
with their own lives.
PLAGIARISM
Anyone submitting a plagiarized story through the mail and receiving
and accepting remuneration therefor, is guilty of the Federal offense of
using the mails to defraud.
The publishers of TRUE DETECTIVE are eager—as are all reputable
publishers—to stamp out this form of literary theft and piracy. We advise
all magazines from which such stories are copied of such plagiarism and
cooperate with the publishers thereof to punish the guilty persons.
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BY LARRY WARREN
Y “ Photos Courtesy Author : |
EVEN by pioneer standards, Eliza
Griffith had a hard life, but nobody
ever heard her complain. She took things
as they came, thankful for her blessings
and overcoming her obstacles as best she
could.
There were plenty of the latter to con-
tend with, beginning when her husband,
a Civil War veteran, became ill with
tuberculosis and was told by his doctor
to leave Hastings, Nebraska and live in a
higher, more healthful climate.
Having heard of the supposedly cura-
tive powers of the Willamette Valley in
18
ELIZA GRIFFITH'S.
SECRET FEAR
ne
ae
hare
ered
4 eee
aroun
Courtesy Oregon State Highw. Division
Above: Mrs. Griffith's farm was located in the foothills of the Coast Range, of which
Mary's Peak, on the right, is the highest peak. Left: This photo of Eliza Griffith ran
in the Oregon Daily Journal at the time of the tragedy.
Oregon, where the water and air were
unbelievably pure, the Griffiths moved
west in 1890. By then, of course, the
most accessible homestead sites had been
taken, but the Griffiths found a quarter-
section of good farmland on Rock Creek
in the foothills of the Coast Range, five
miles west of the village of Philomath in
Benton County.
Although it was an isolated region
with only a few families within miles,
the setting was beautiful, surrounded by
giant Douglas fir trees and watched over
by Mary’s Peak and the rest of the near-
by mountains. But Eliza’s husband en-
joyed the new country for only a year
before succumbing to his ailment. It
would have been much easier for her
to have returned to Nebraska or to have
moved to some city near her farm, but
by this time she had fallen in love with
the natural beauty of her backwoods
home and wouldn’t think of leaving it.
As the years went by, she kept busy
working the soil, visiting with her few
neighbors, driving her buggy into town
for supplies once or twice a week, and
attending church and its social activities.
Her sunny disposition and neighborliness
made her a favorite in the remote re-
gion. Despite her years of toil and rather
primitive surroundings, Eliza retained
her attractiveness and could have had her
pick of the bachelors in the area and
those in town, but she told her friends
she preferred her “life of solitude.”
The dark-haired widow’s health had
always been remarkable, so it was rather
surprising on the Friday evening of June
2, 1911 when she telephoned the Franklin
family, one of her closest neighbors, that
she wasn’t feeling well. She said it prob-
ably was only a headache, however, and
for them not to worry about her. :
But next morning Mrs. Nancy Franklii
walked the half-mile to the modest Grif-
fith home to see how Eliza was feeling.
When her knock on the front door went
unanswered, she looked in the shed and
around the yard for her friend, But
Eliza was nowhere about, leading Mrs.
Franklin to believe she might be asleep
Frontier Times
.
x
ts
in her upstairs bedroom. So the neighbor
went back to the house, found the front
door unlocked and entered the front
room.
What she saw sent her into a panic.
The room was a shambles. Chairs, tables
and other pieces of furniture were over-
turned. Papers littered the floor. Even
the. carpet lay in a crumpled heap.
The terrified woman ran from the
cottage to the nearby home of Mr. and
Mrs.. Jacob Henkle and told them what
she had seen. Henkle, owner of a small
sawmill on Rock Creek, immediately tele-
phoned the office of Sheriff William A.
Gellatly at the Benton County Court-
house in Corvallis, some thirteen miles
away.
At the time, Gellatly and two deputies
were searching the countryside for a
bank robber who had escaped from the
State Penitentiary in Salem. He had been
sighted in the district, had stolen a gun
from a farmhouse, and was considered
extremely dangerous.
Deputy M. P. Burnett, himself a former
sheriff of the county, had been left in
charge of the office and, realizing that
precious time would be wasted in at-
tempting to locate Gellatly, hurried to
the Griffith farm.
Y THIS time other neighbors had
gathered at the Griffith farm. Some
of them had searched the place but had
found no ‘trace of Eliza. Shocked and
fearful, the group waited outside while
. Burnett investigated the house. When he
came out his face was grave.
“Looks bad,” he said. “There must have
j been a violent struggle and the place
was thoroughly ransacked. Everything
is in a mess. The first thing we’ve got
to do is try to find out what became of
Mrs, Griffith.”
Henkle told him that the nearby woods
already had been searched and no sign of
the woman had been found.
““We’ll try it again,” the deputy re-
plied. “If she’s been killed, her body has
to be fairly near here. It could even be
buried in the woods.”
Under the former sheriff's expert
guidance, an organized search was quick-
ly launched. Some of the men went to
Scout along both sides of Rock Creek.
Burnett and others began another search
of the woods.
It was an hour later when Henkle
came racing up to Burnett and his party.
“We've found her!” he exclaimed. “She's
m the creck about a quarter of a mile
from her house!”
Hurrying there, the deputy and two
farmers waded into the water and _ re-
trieved Eliza Griffith’s fully dressed
body from a pool. Her arms and legs were
trussed up with a length of slender rope.
Bruises on her face and neck indicated
she had been beaten and strangled. Angry
muttering rumbled through the throng
of scowling farmers. After calming them
Somewhat and making them promise to
let the law take its course, Burnett went
into action.
First, the victim was taken to her home
and Dr. C. H. Newth of Phileomath was
summoned to examine the body. He con-
firmed the belief that Eliza had been
beaten, then strangled. He removed the
February-March, 1977
Above: The area between Philomath and
Corvallis was searched for any suspicious
strangers.
Right: Sheriff William A. Gellatly in later
years.
Below: A “payoff’ clue was found at this
grain and feed store in Philomath.
body to a Philomath funeral parlor for
an autopsy in search of additional evi-
dence,
Meanwhile, Deputy Burnett began
probing the neighbors for information.
The important thing, he realized, was the
time element. No alibis could be checked
until this was established. It was Mrs.
Franklin who helped narrow the period
during which the crime could have oc-
curred. She said that Eliza had _ tele-
phoned the previous evening around 7
o’clock and that Eliza always retired by
10. The fact that the victim was still
ERS
Or a en tage ae civless
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(Continued from page 23)
When they arrived, he instructed them to
go over the entire premises, as well as to
process the bloodstained axe and stovewood
bludgeon found near the dead woman.
Friese and his assistants went to the
station house to await results from the in-
tensive search of the city’s hobo jungles.
They had been there less than a half-hour
when two uniformed officers brought in a
shabbily dressed middle-aged man.
“This fellow’s coat has traces of dried
blood on it,” reported one of the patrolmen.
“He tells us he got into an argument at a
beer parlor yesterday afternoon and some
guy punched him in the nose.”
“That’s right,” declared the vagrant. “We
were both trying to make time with one of
the girls there. He got sore because she
invited me to her hotel room. Before I
knew what was happening, he socked me.
The girl took me to her place and washed
the blood off my coat. I stayed there until
after midnight.”
The man gave his name as Carl Preston
and said he was “just seeing the country.”
He emphatically denied being anywhere
near the Litchfield house since riding a
freight into town three days before. How-
ever, he was unable to tell the officers in
which tavern the incident supposedly took
place. Nor could he identify the man he
said had hit him on the nose.
“Well, surely you know who the woman
was,” remarked Captain Friese. “If she
backs up your story, you haven’t anything
to worry about.”
But all the man could remember about
her was that she had red hair and lived at
a hotel on one of the main streets. “I guess
I had too much beer,” he commented. “I’m
still kinda fuzzy.”
“You'll have plenty of time to get the
cobwebs out of your head,” Friese assured
him. “You'll be here until we know
whether or not you're telling the truth.”
A shower and a few hours of sleep
seemed to help Preston’s memory. “I think
I can find the redhead’s place now,” he told
the detectives.
They bundled him into a squad car and
started dNving around the downtown dis-
trict, passing several hotels. Finally they
approached a small one near the river-
front.
“That’s the place,” Preston exclaimed.
The officers took him inside and began
questioning the desk clerk.
“Sure, I remember this fellow coming in
yesterday afternoon,” he said. “He was with
Miss Powell. She’s in 402.”
They found the redhead, a woman of
around thirty-five, in her room. She con-
firmed Preston’s story in every detail. With
no further reason to hold him the officers
took him back to the hobo jungle and re-
turned to headquarters.
Meanwhile, two other possible suspects
had been brought in from other jungles
and subsequently cleared. By early eve-
ning the case appeared at a standstill.
At this time Chief of Police Clyde A.
Warren returned home from out of town
and learned of the murder. He immedi-
ately went to headquarters for a briefing
of the case.
As a member of the Oregon State Police
some years ago, the chief had helped break
several top-drawer murder mysteries. He
listened intently while his assistants
brought him up to date on developments.
Captain Friese spoke of the sliver of bone
found in the bathroom and suggested the
possibility of another death weapon, which
could have been carried away by the man
with the suitcase.
Chief Warren sent several squads back
to the Litchfield neighborhood for another
canvass. They came back with new infor-
mation. The blond, bespectacled youth
carrying a suitcase, who had appeared on
Saturday at the rooming house, looking
for Mrs. Litchfield, had been seen by a
second person on another occasion.
Mrs. K. S. Thurston, of 1285 Waller
Street, a block from the Litchfield home,
reported seeing the young man early Fri-
day evening, walking toward the victim’s
home. Her description of him tallied with
the one given by Harold Shell, the cab
driver who roomed at Mrs. Litchfield’s.
Since Mrs, Thurston was positive it was
Friday when she saw the stranger, it meant
that the unknown youth had stayed some-
where in the neighborhood overnight,
since Shell had seen him Saturday after-
noon.
Chief Warren said, “I want every hotel,
auto court and guest home checked. Mean-
while, I’ll get out a bulletin with a descrip-
tion of this fellow. He oughtn’t to be too
hard to spot, if he hasn’t ditched his suit-
case.”
But although every law agency in the
West was alerted, no trace of the man with
the suitcase had been picked up by Mon-
day morning, as the Salem detectives pur-
sued the investigation. Most of the
forenoon was spent in checking routine
angles, none of which paid off. Then, at
1 P.M., came a flash from state police head-
quarters at Grant Pass, some 200 miles
south of Salem, that a suitcase-carrying
hitchhiker resembling the wanted youth
had been taken into custody there.
For two hours, by long distance tele-
phone and Teletype, Chief Warren and
state officers at various points checked on
the man’s statements. He claimed to have
hitchhiked from his home in California to
Seattle and to be making the return trip.
Although admitting he had gone through
Salem on Saturday afternoon, he insisted
he had stopped there only long enough for
a meal. He denied ever hearing of Mrs.
Litchfield.
But what cast doubt on an otherwise
plausible story was the fact that he had
traveled only 200 miles in 45 hours. The
only explanation he could give was that
he was in no hurry and had made several
side trips “for the scenery.”
But when no traces of blood were found
on his clothing, and it was established that
he had been in Portland, 50 miles north of
Salem, on Friday night, and consequently
could not have been the man Mrs. Thurs-
ton had Yen, he was cleared and allowed
to go on his way.
Less than an hour after this lead had
fizzled, Detectives Parker and Houser, one
of the teams checking places where the
suitcase-carrier might have stayed over-
night, walked into the Y. M. C. A. Build-
ing in downtown Salem.
When they described the youth, the clerk
nodded. “Sure, he came in Friday after-
noon,” he declared. “Registered for a
room and went upstairs. A little later he
went out. He was gone a couple of hours
and when he came back he told me he had
located some friends and was going to stay
with them. He wanted to know if he
could give up his room and not have to pay
anything. I said it would be okay, so he
got his suitcase and left.”
Checking the register, the detectives
found that the youth had signed as Martin
Forbes of Tacoma, Washington.
“The name could be a phony,” observed
Parker. “If it isn’t, the Tacoma _ police
might be able to help us.”
At headquarters, they reported to Chief
Warren. He immediately long-distanced |
Tacoma and asked for assistance in check-
ing out Forbes. Warren was assured that
a report would b
possible.
While waiting
his sides discusse
pointed out that
a systematic per
and general busin
‘ logical to assume
her rooming ho
order,
“It looks,” he
fellow with the su
So, if we could fir
roomers, we migh
he is, by a proce
Chief Warren ;
there and have a:
In a new searc
Parker came acro:
dresser drawer. “]
after a quick look
As Captain Fri:
Litchfield had beer
ing her lodging acc
been in other matt
“Looks like we’
Chief Warren comr
as he studied the
record of when
roomer paid durin:
He leafed through :
He pointed to an e1
year ago.
“Martin Forbes!”
guy we're looking :
“He probably loc
on Friday,” theoriz:
she offered to rent
But that doesn’t exp
the next afternoon .
“Maybe he had :
from her,” Parker <
him to leave. He co
another try.”
When the investig
quarters, message
them. Martin Forbe
ing there. On the I
relatives told the T
left by bus for Ca
tended to stop in
cousin who recently
Tacoma officers rela
cousin,
Checking with the
pany, the Salem de
cousin’s address an
their surprise they
house. His cousin p
\\
IN IED
i aia samen
iy by the man
1 squads back
od for another
ith new infor-
‘etacled youth
d appeared on
house, looking
en seen by a
ecasion.
1285 Waller
itechfield home,
nan early Fri-
rd the victim’s
im tallied with
Shell, the cab
. Litchfield’s.
positive it was
‘anger, it meant
d stayed some-
ood overnight,
Saturday after-
int every hotel,
checked. Mean-
with a descrip-
zhtn’t to be too
{itched his suit-
agency in the
of the man with
ed up by Mon-
detectives pur-
Most of the
hecking routine
d off. Then, at
ate police head-
some 200 miles
suitease-carrying
>» wanted youth
dy there.
g distance tele-
ief Warren and
yints checked on
claimed to have
in Califgrnia to
the return trip.
ad gone through
1oon, he insisted
long enough for
hearing of Mrs.
on an otherwise
fact that he had
n 45 hours. The
id give was that
nad made several
blood were found
is established that
50 miles north of
and consequently
man Mrs. Thurs-
-ared and allowed
ter this lead had
r and Houser, one
places where the
iave stayed over-
Z, M. C. A, Build-
ne youth, the clerk
2 in Friday after-
‘Registered for a
A little later he
a couple of hours
he told me he had
1 was going to stay
d to know if he
ind not have to pay
ald be okay, so he
er, the detectives
id signed as Martin
iington.
a phony,” observed
the Tacoma police
y reported to Chief
tely long-distanced
assistance in check-
n was assured that
a report would be phoned back as soon as
possible.
While waiting for the call, the chief and
his sides discussed the case. Captain Friese
pointed out that Mrs. Litchfield had been
a systematic person in her housekeeping
and general business affairs, and it seemed
‘ logical to assume that she would have kept
her rooming house accounts in similar
order.
“It looks,” he went on, “like this blond
fellow with the suitcase used to room there.
So, if we could find a recent record of her
roomers, we might be able to find out who
he is, by a process of elimination.”
Chief Warren nodded. “We'll go back
there and have another look.”
In a new search of the murder house,
Parker came across a small notebook in a
dresser drawer. “This is it!” he announced,
after a quick look at its contents.
As Captain Friese had surmised, Mrs.
Litchfield had been as meticulous in keep-
ing her lodging accounts straight as she had
been in other matters.
“Looks like we've got a real break,”
Chief Warren commented with satisfaction,
as he studied the notebook. “There’s a
record of when and how much*severy
roomer paid during the past four years,”
He leafed through the pages. “Look here!”
He pointed to an entry of approximately a
year ago.
“Martin Forbes!” exclaimed Houser, “The
guy we’re looking for.”
“He probably looked up Mrs. Litchfield
on Friday,” theorized Captain Friese, “and
she offered to rent him one of her rooms,
But that doesn’t explain why he came back
the next afternoon and asked for her.”
“Maybe he had tried to borrow money
from her,” Parker suggested, “and she told
him to leave. He could have come back for
another try.”
When the investigators returned to head-
quarters, a message from Tacoma awaited
them. Martin Forbes, it said, had been liv-
ing there. On the previous Thursday, his
relatives told the Tacoma police, he had
left by bus for California, He had in-
tended to stop in Salem to look for a
cousin who recently had moved there. The
Tacoma officers relayed the name of the
cousin,
Checking with the local telephone com-
pany, the Salem detectives obtained the
cousin’s address and rushed there. To
their surprise they found Forbes in the
house. His cousin provided an alibi for
him, with the assertion that Forbes had
not been out of the house at any time on
Saturday afternoon or night. Still, the
coincidence of his return to Salem the day
before his former landlady was murdered,
made the police unwilling to dismiss him
immediately as a suspect. They questioned
him as to whether he had any idea who
had bludgeoned her to death.
“I liked Mrs, Litchfield a lot,” he said.
“She was good to me and was always doing
kind things for people. But she was very
outspoken. She wouldn’t hesitate to say
what she thought, even if it hurt someone’s
feelings. Maybe she made somebody mad
enough to kill her.”
The investigators returned to the sta-
tion house. Here a new development in
the case came in a Phone call from Dr.
William Lidbeck, who had just finished
the autopsy on the dead woman.
“You'd better start looking for another
death weapon,” he advised Chief Warren.
“There’s no doubt that the axe and the
piece of stovewood were used on Mrs.
Litchfield, but they didn’t cause her death.”
He explained that the shape and depth
of the three most serious of the 14 hideous
wounds on the victim’s skull indicated that
a sharp instrument approximately one and
a half inches wide had been used.
“I would guess it was a carpenter’s claw-
hammer,” he said.
Chief Warren listened intently. That sub-
stantiated Captain Friese’s theory in re-
gard to the sliver of bone found in the
bathroom. The alibi of the man with the
suitcase, Martin Forbes, might bear fur-
ther investigation.
As to time of death, the examiner re-
ported, digestion showed that it had
occurred about two and a half hours after
a fairly substantial meal. But whether
that had been eaten at noon or at dinner
time he was unable to say. However, this
set the time range between 2:30 and 8:30
P.M. Saturday.
Directly after Dr. Lidbeck’s call, Chief
Warren’s fingerprint technicians came in
with their report. Neither the axe nor the
stovewood club held any fingerprints. Nor
had the technicians been able to find any-
thing but useless smudges on the Litchfield
premises.
With these developments the second day
of the investigation ended. On Tuesday
morning, however, out of the usual welter
of tips and sure-fire leads from the public,
came one that warranted further checking,
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Sa LV Titer! “That’s how we earn our salaries,” the
“VU-INK® ion 6” chief countered with a smile. “You fel-
PEN ~~ lows have pulled rabbits out of the hat
before. You can do it again.”
Whether or not he really believed they
would succeed, Warren was_ surprised
three hours later, when Houser and Parker
came back with the report that they not
only had located their quarry but had
established that he was in the clear.
“He said he had been peeved at Mrs.
Litchfield, but had got over it soon,” Parker
related. “But we didn’t take his word for
that. We checked his activities Saturday
afternoon and evening, and he _ wasn’t
near the Litchfield place.”
With this lead folding up, Chief Warren
and his men resumed digging for another
one. And during this procedure they
picked up a bit of information that further
discounted robbery as a motive.
From Jim DeLaw, deliveryman for Bus-
ick’s Market, they learned that he had
taken the groceries to the elderly widow’s
home Saturday morning. She had paid
him $7.70 from her purse and, he contin-
ued, it didn’t seem to him she had any ap-
preciable amount of cash in it.
This, plus the fact that $65 had been
found in her cash box, virtually ruled out a
thief as the perpetrator.
If robbery was not the motive, the in-
vestigators mused, why had the woman
been so brutally murdered? Was it the
act of a sadist? Or had a maniac somehow
managed to gain entrance to the widow’s
home and trapped her in the woodshed?
“At any rate,” commented Chief Warren,
“one thing is sure. Whoever killed her
brought a claw-hammer with him. There
hadn’t been one at the Litchfield place for
years, according to neighbors and relatives.”
“Which suggests,” Captain Friese de-
clared, “that the blond fellow is our man.
He could have carried a hammer in his
suitcase,” .
The other detectives concurred with
that theory. But, if he wasn’t Martin
Forbes, who was he?
“Well,” said the chief, “we’ll have to
check on all the ex-roomers.” Warren in-
structed his aides to be especially on the
alert for someone with possible sadistic
tendencies.
The remainder of Tuesday was spent
in running down and eliminating others
of the lodgers listed in Mrs. Litchfield’s
records. It was a slow, painstaking job
which promised to consume much valuable
time.
On Wednesday afternoon, funeral ser-
vices for Mrs. Litchfield were held at the
Rigdon Chapel. The Reverend Omar Barth,
pastor of the Calvary Baptist Church, of
which she was a member, officiated. In-
terment was at the Salem IOOF Cemetery.
Detectives attending the services saw no
one who acted in a suspicious manner.
At 8:45 that evening, a woman excitedly
telephoned police headquarters. “A—a
man—just attacked me!” she exclaimed.
“I—got—away.”
Two cruisers and a squad car quickly
converged on an apartment court at 1467
Hines Street, only two blocks from the
murder scene. There 25-year-old Marjorie
Panek met them. She showed signs of ex-
treme shock.
“At 8:30 I went outside to my car, which
was parked in the driveway,” she recounted.
“I wanted to get my reading glasses. As .
opened the glove compartment, I noi ced
a man crouched near by. He grabbed me
around the throat, but I managed to pull
away and run back to my apartment.”
Although she said she hadn’t got a good
look at her assailant, she thought he was
of medium height, wore a dark leather
jacket and had light brown wavy hair.
Realizing this might be the man in-
volved in the Litchfield murder, the offi-
cers spent hours combing the city for the
young woman’s attacker, but no trace of
him resulted.
Later that night a patrolman encountered
an injured transient in a downtown alley.
Although he fitted in general the mysteri-
ous blond youth’s description, a subsequent
check by detectives failed to link him
with the murder.
On Thursday, the fifth day of the inves-
tigation, with the other phases of the case
in a stalemate, the squads checking Mrs.
Litchfield’s former roomers came upon one
Al Karnes, who was said to resemble the
man seen by Harold Shell, the lodger who
had discovered the slaying.
Karnes was a man in his early 20’s who,
with his wife, had stayed with the elderly
woman in 1950, when the youth was driv-
ing a bus for the Chemawa Indian School
LESSON IN CITIZENSHIP
Two youths in Freeport, _ Illinois,
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the bumper of their car as they drove,
decided to use an American flog for
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promptly arrested and haled to court.
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them to:
(1) Come to court on Washington's
Birthday and recite the "Pledge of
Allegiance to the Flag."
(2) Study a booklet on "How to Re-
spect and Display the American Flag,"
and make weekly reports to the pro-
bation officer on what they have
learned.
(3) Attend all public functions fea-
turing flag ceremonies.
—Harold Helfer
just north of Salem. However, a check with
persons who had been acquainted with the
Karneseg at that time, turned up nothing,
to implicate him in the murder.
Chief Warren gave instructions for a
further investigation into Karnes’ back-
ground. “We won’t clear him, or anybody
else,” he said, “until we know beyond all
doubt that he’s innocent.”
Captain Friese and his men, scouting
around town, learned that Karnes and his
wife originally had come from Astoria, a
salmon-fishing city at the mouth of the
Columbia River. No one seemed to know
where they had gone after leaving Salem
late in 1950.
Hoping to get a better line on Karnes,
Chief Warren conferred with Captain Ray
Howard, district commander of the state
police, who had offered the department’:
entire facilities to help solve the murder
Howard in turn contacted his colleague;
at Astoria, asking for all possible informa:
tion on Karnes. Late that afternoon cam¢
a startling report. Not only was Karnes or
parole from the Washington State Reform)
atory at Monroe, where he was serving {
one-year term for burglary, but he waj
known to have definite sadistic tendencies
Confident now that the trail was gettin)
warm, the chief and state police officer
throughout Oregon bent every effort t
ao puna one st hse Ye
locating Karnes
ing the girl to w/
but she had divo
the reformatory ;
Was at present,
The investigat:
had been doing «
since being parc
have carried vari
car. The license
Obtained, and aft.
by the state polic:
the car had been
Coast Highway ni:
vious Thursday
the murder, ,
Newport officer
wrecked car was
there was no trac
indication that he
Chief Warren a)
out a statewide ala
ng a detailed des
classification which
the Washington re{
Next day, when
arrived from that
shown to Harold S}
and Mrs. Thurston.
stantly recognized }
had seen. This det
at the murder scen
day.
The following \
The Dalles, Orego:
of Salem, notified (
had a prisoner wh:
wanted. On Satur
one week after the
field, a youth who
Davidson had been :
of burglarizing the
Ben Callaway on
two days after My
slain. Upgn being
year-old housewite.
with a carpenter's
Callaway had been
suffering from a ski
viclous blows on the
Her assailant had
but had been captur
when found asleep ji)
Callaway home.
He readily admitt
brutal attack and he
to the Callaway ho;
afraid to go back
fear the police wouk
him. They wouldn't
to the crime scene, h
The similarity of |
tacks on the two wo
physical resemblance
and Karnes led The |]
their prisoner’s finger
der suspect's classific:
They matched.
When Chief Warr
formation by long-dis
ranged through Capt
sgeant Charles U’Ren
police in The Dalle
Davidson.
During the interroga
mitted that he was A]|
The sergeant, withou
Litchfield murder, as
been on the previous \
Karnes said he had
on the Pacific Coast Hi
night, when he wrecke.
hiked to Portland, via 1
arriving late Saturda:
cleaning up at the bus
movie and then took a
reaching there around |
tered at a hotel unde
and stayed there Sunda
Tuesday afternoon he
Callaway home and,
Mrs. Callaway, had
i sili
1 cut We oi Bbc mnt asian SHEMET
ses. AS «
I noi.ced
at he was
-k leather
y hair.
man in-
-, the offi-
ity for the
o trace of
neountered
town alley.
je mysteri-
subsequent
link him
tf the inves-
of the case
ecking Mrs.
je upon one
esemble the
lodger who
rly 20’s who,
, the elderly
th was driv-
ndian School
—————
NSHIP
-t, Mlinois,
flutter from
they drove,
an flog for
agging the
they were
ed to court.
> sentenced
Nashington's
"Pledge of
‘How to £.
arican Flag,”
to the pro-
they have
functions fea-
arold Helfer
———
ver, a check with
uainted with the
irned up nothing
urder.
structions for a
o Karnes’ back-
him, or anybody
know beyond all
tig men, scouting
at Karnes and his
e from Astoria, €
the mouth of the
e seemed to know
ster leaving Salem
sy line on Karnes
with Captain Ra}
ander of the stat
i the department’
solve the murder
ected his colleague
11 possible informa
hat afternoon cam
only was Karnes oO:
agton State Reform
-e he was serving
rglary, but he wa
» sadistic tendencie
the trail was gettin
state police office
rent every effort 1
locating Karnes. They succeeded in find-
ing the girl to whom he had been married,
but she had divorced him when he was in
the reformatory and had no idea where he
was at present.
The investigators also learned that he
had been doing carpentry jobs off and on
since being paroled, and was known to
have carried various tools with him in his
car. The license number of his auto was
obtained, and after considerable checking
by the state police, it was ascertained that
the car had been wrecked on the Pacific
Coast Highway near Newport on the pre-
vious Thursday night—two days before
the murder.
Newport officers reported that the
wrecked car was found abandoned, but
there was no trace of the owner and no
indication that he had been injured.
Chief Warren and Captain Howard put
out a statewide alarm for the suspect, giv-
ing a detailed description and fingerprint
classification which had been obtained from
the Washington reformatory.
Next day, when photographs of Karnes
arrived from that institution, they were
shown to Harold Shell, the victim’s roomer,
and Mrs. Thurston. the neighbor. Both in-
stantly recognized Karnes as the man they
had seen. This definitely put the parWee
at the murder scene on Friday and Satur-
day.
The following week police officials in
The Dalles, Oregon, 160 miles northwest
of Salem, notified Chief Warren that they
had a prisoner who might be the man he
wanted. On Saturday, June 15th, exactly
one week after the murder of Mrs. Litch-
field, a youth who gave his name as Bill
Davidson had been apprehended on charges
of burglarizing the home of Mr. and Mrs.
Ben Callaway on the previous Tuesday,
two days after Mrs. Litchfield had been
slain. Upon being surprised by the 35-
year-old housewife, he had attacked her
with a carpenter’s claw hammer. Mrs.
Callaway had been taken to the hospital,
suffering from a skull fracture from three
vicious blows on the head.
Her assailant had fled after the attack,
but had been captured the next morning,
when found asleep in the basement of the
Callaway home.
He readily admitted the burglary and
brutal attack and he explained his return
to the Callaway home by saying he was
afraid to go back to his hotel room for
fear the police would be waiting there for
him. They wouldn’t expect him to return
to the crime scene, he theorized.
The similarity of the claw-hammer at-
tacks on the two women, plus the strong
physical resemblance between “Davidson”
and Karnes led The Dalles police to check
their prisoner’s fingerprints with the mur-
der suspect's classification.
They matched.
When Chief Warren received this in-
formation by long-distance phone, he ar-
ranged through Captain Howard for Ser-
geant Charles U’Ren, in charge of state
police in The Dalles area to question
Davidson.
During the interrogation, the suspect ad-
mitted that he was Albert William Karnes.
The sergeant, without mentioning the
Litchfield murder, asked where he had
been on the previous week end.
Karnes said he had been driving south
on the Pacific Coast Highway on Thursday
night, when he wrecked his car. He hitch-
hiked to Portland, via the Sunset Highway,
arriving late Saturday afternoon. After
cleaning up at the bus depot, he went to a
movie and then took a bus to The Dalles,
reaching there around 11:30 p.M. He regis-
tered at a hotel under a fictitious name
and stayed there Sunday and Monday. On
Tuesday afternoon he had burglari.ed the
Callaway home and, when sur_cised by
Mrs. Callaway, had ai.acxed ihe young
all
housewife with his heavy claw-hammer.
Karnes gave this account in a seemingly
straightforward manner and showed no
nervousness or apprehension, But when
Sergeant U’Ren inquired which theatre
he had attended in Portland, the parolee
said he couldn’t remember its name. Nor
could he recall the titles of the films he had
seen, or tell what they were about.
He also was unable to offer a logical
explanation why, in hitchhiking to Port-
land after wrecking his car, he went many
miles up the Coast Highway instead of
taking the heavily-traveled cutoff east
from Newport.
Sergeant U’Ren was convinced, after
the interview, that Karnes actually had
taken the latter route, which had put him
in the Salem area sometime Friday.
With little doubt remaining as to Karnes’
guilt in the sadistic murder of Mrs. Litch-
field, Chief Warren released photographs
of the suspect to the Salem newspapers
with the request that any reader who had
seen Karnes on the fatal week end, con-
tact headquarters at once.
As a result, Benjamin Kerlee, proprietor
of the Chili Bowl on State Street, reported
that he was certain he had served a meal
to Karnes on the afternoon of the slaying.
Kerlee, Harold Shell and Mrs. Thurston
accompanied Chief Warren and Detectives
Parker and Houser to The Dalles on Tues-
day, June 17th. .The three witnesses
promptly identified Karnes as the blond
youth they had seen, thus contradicting
his claim of not being anywhere near
Salem on the week end of the murder.
And when his suitcase was searched at
the hotel where he had registered under a
fictitious name, it yielded a claw-hammer,
which undoubtly had inflicted the lethal
wounds on the elderly Mrs. Litchfield.
Confronted by this undeniable evidence,
the 24-year-old parolee admitted the mur-
der. In the presence of the Salem officers,
Chief Jack Lyons of The Dalles police and
Wasco County Deputy Sheriff Henry Re,
he dictated a full confession to a circuit
court reporter, Richard Crane.
Karnes said he had arrived in Salem late
on the afternoon of Friday, June 6th, from
the coast. He claimed that he had gone to
Mrs. Litchfield’s house to look for his ex-
wife, who had divorced him while he was
in the reformatory. He said he had spent
about twenty minutes visiting with his for-
mer landlady, then had left.
The next afternoon he returned, found
Mrs. Litchfield in the woodshed and bludg-
eoned her with his‘claw-hammer, which he
had taken from his suitcase. He then
struck her with the axe and a piece of
stovewood to make sure she was dead.
Karnes related that he then went to the
bathroom of the house, washed up and
changed clothes. Afterward he made a
hasty search for money, and found $30
in his victim’s purse. Then he left Salem
by bus for Portland and went on to The
Dalles.
Although Karnes emphatically insisted
that robbery was his only motive, authori-
ties are convinced that sadism prompted
the savage attack and mutilation which
cost Mrs. Litchfield’s life, and also prompted
the second near-fatal attack on Mrs. Calla-
way.
On June 18th, 1952, Karnes appeared be-
fore Circuit Judge Malcolm W. Wilkinson
in The Dalles and pleaded guilty to
burglarizing the Ben Callaway home and
attacking Mrs. Callaway with his claw-
hammer. For these crimes, he was sen-
tenced to 15 years in the Oregon Siate
Penitentiary in Salem.
However, Karnes will not escape the
first-degree murder charge filed against
him in Marion County by District Attorney
E. O. Stadter Jr. Stadter plans to obtain
a court order to bring the confessed slayer
into court from the prison.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Callaway, who is re-
covering from the skull fracture sustained
at the hands of the sadistic killer, considers
herself fortunate indeed that she did not
meet the same fate as the elderly rooming-
house keeper.
Eprtor’s Note: |
The names, Carl Preston, Miss Powell |
and Martin Forbes, as used in the fore-
going story, are not the real names of |
the persons concerned, These innocent
persons have been given fictitious names |
in order to protect their identities. |
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nero
without success. Doorknobs, light switches
and furniture surfaces yielded only prints of
Keith’s and Mrs. Litchfield’s fingers. The
experts had high hopes for a set of bloody
impressions in the bathroom, but they proved
too smudged for identification purposes.
The widow’s activities were traced up to
early afternoon on Saturday.
A next-door neighbor had seen the old lady
leave the house at 11 a.m. and cross the street
to hand some letters to the postman.’
A deliveryman brought groceries to the
house shortly before noon. Mrs. Litchfield
had paid him $7.70 from her purse. He. did
not notice, any additional currency. in the
*} purse at the time.
Another neighbor saw Mrs. Litchfield work-
ing in the garden shortly after noon.
Keith, the cabdriver, was regarded with
suspicion by some investigators. His story of
the pale, wild-eyed intruder was frankly. ques-
tioned. His clothing, towels and bedding were
carted off to the Oregon state crime laboratory
to be examined for bloodstains.
That was before a detective rang the door-
bell of Mrs. K. S. Thurston, who lived half
a block from the Litchfield home. In the.
course of routine questioning, the officer asked
if she had seen any strangers in the aegypor-
hood on Saturday.
“Well, just that young light- haired fellow
with the suitcase. ’Course, I’m not sure but
what I used to see him here before. So maybe
you wouldn’t count him a auger 4
When the officer pressed for details, he got
a perfect description of the man seen by Keith.
He asked if the man looked like a hobo.
“Oh, no. He’s a neat looking fellow. He
was wearing slacks and a sport shirt when -I
saw him, and carrying a nice brown bag.”
“Did you see him go in Mrs. Litchfield’s
house ?”
“No, he went past here toward the house.
He stopped in front of the house. I looked
away for a minute, and when I looked back
he was gone. So he must have gone inside
her house.” t
Wwuat time was. it? About 2 p.a. Why
did Mrs. Thurston think he looked
familiar? Well, he looked like a young fellow
-she’d seen in the neighborhood before.’ She
thought he might have been a rcomer at Mrs.
Litchfield’s, at one time.
To this account was added the story -of
Ben Kerlee, who lived on a street intersecting
Waller. Kerlee had seen the. same man on
the cross street, going toward Waller. He had
seen him pass that way before, but not for
several months, he thought..
This established a pattern which clearly
out by teletype, adding the suitcase, | sport
clothes and other details to the original
description of the suspect.
A paddy wagonload of derelicts from the
hobo and fruit picker camps were lined up
for the inspection of Keith, Mrs. Thurston
and Kerlee. They agreed that no one in this
crew resembled the visitor to Mrs. Litchfield’s
home.
Late Monday, an alert motorcycle officer in
Grants Pass, some 225 miles south of Salem,
spotted a hitchhiker whe. seemed to fit ‘the
physical description’ in the Wanted teletypes.
year-old transient who said his home was in
Los Angeles.. He had a mop of unkempt straw
colored hair;.he was carrying a battered tan
‘fruit in Oregon, and was now on his way to
vindicated Keith. Additional messages. went:
The hiker was Emory H. Jackson, a 22-_
valise. He said he had been working in the’
work in the harvest in the San Joaquin
Valley in California, ©
What interested Grants Pass officers most
were some reddish brown stains on Jackson’s
shoes and trouser legs. He had some of ‘the
same substance under his grimy fingernails.
Jackson wasn’t a man to beat around the
bush, “It’s blood,” he said, “‘but just chicken
blood. I stopped to bum a meal at some little
farm outside Eugene. The guy was killing
chickens and I helped him for half a day.”
Jackson added that he had never heard of
Mrs. Susan Litchfield; in fact, he had never
been in Salem in his life,
Chief Warren asked that Jackson be held
while his photograph was sent to Salem for
study by witnesses. Oregon state police set
oat to locate the Eugene chicken farmer.
The Litchfield case attracted wide atten-
tion throughout Oregon and Washington:
Chief Warren received well-meant letters from
maiden ladies who likened the Litchfield
murder to this or that unsolved case. Danger-
ous-looking young men with suitcases were
seen all over the Pacific Northwest.
During the latter part of the week, the
Litchfield case got almost no attention at The
Dalles, a city along the Columbia River
rapids about 115 miles east of Portland. The
Dalles, it seemed, was having a small crime
wave of its own.
‘MES. Ben Callaway, a young Dalles house-
wife, had been out shopping on Wednes-
day morning, June 11. She came in the back
door of her home at 715 Court Street, set
the groceries on the kitchen table and walked
into ‘the bedroom to hang up her coat.
A skinny, pasty-faced man in stocking feet
was ransacking the bureau drawers as she
entered. He was holding a claw hammer.
Mrs, Callaway screamed.- The man whirled,
the hammer raised.
The man sprang on her, swinging the
hammer with all his strength. The first, blow
was glancing; the second landed full on the
crown of her skull.,
‘While the room spun about her, Mrs. €al-
laway clung to her senses and grabbed the
hammer-head with both hands. The° man
made a futile attempt to wrest it away: from
her, then fled.
Mrs. Callaway was - found by her husband
a short time later. She was still conscious
and able to give a clear account of what had
happened, together with a description of the
attacker. She was taken to the hospital with
a compound fracture of the skull. Doctors
said she would recover.
Dalles Police Chief Jack Lyons dispatched
investigators to. the Callaway house. They
found that the burglar had entered through
the basement, taking off his shoes before
coming upstairs. He had fied without his
shoes, in fact.
A wide search was made for the barefoot
burglar, as newsmen dubbed him.
Thursday . morning, Ben Callaway went
down to the basement to see if he might find
something overlooked by the police.
There were two tables in the basement,
used as work benches. Under one of them,
Callaway spotted his 30-30 rifle, a box of
’ shell¥ and a jar of maraschino cherries.
Across the basement, beneath the other
table, one of Callaway’s blankets was spread
on the concrete floor. And sleeping peace-
fully on the blanket was a pale, slender tow-
haired young man with no shoes on his feet.
Callaway tip-to«
stranger undifur
police. Two offic
awakened the ma)
headquarte:
There, hy
Davidson, ;
Dalles about midni
Portland, and had
He was broke—}
had only two cent
decided to try his }
readily admitted t)
way.
Why had he r
home? -
“Tt was raining
he explained. “I
Wednesday night ;
ment window. I <
home, so I decided
keep out of the rai
| Syed Lyons di
discovered that
“not Davidson, but /
had been working 0!
Ore., until recently,
the Washington Stat:
where he had served
Karnes was promp
of burglary and a:
carries a heavy pen:
was set at $10,000.
Sergeant Charles .
state police had be
case and the Litch:
interest. His practice
similarity between t
hammer assault.
U’Ren talked wit
at the Wasco Coun:
about his whereabout
Karnes said he ha:
’ trip down the Oregon
his car at Newport
before the murder 0:
port is a coast ~ a
of Salem. Thi \
Karnes said (
to Portland, but not
route to Portland, he
Highway 99 West, v
15 miles.
“Have you ever bi
Karnes hesitated.
there,” he said at last.
wife and kid before I ;
ington.”
Where had he lived
member. It was ‘sor
Salem,
Down in Salem, Chi
impressed by the simila)
The description of Ka
that of Mrs. Litchfiek
And besides, Jackson, 1
hiker, had been elimin;
On Monday, June 1¢
back to the Litchfield
for her records of pr:
didn’t have much luck 1
a look at the widow’s j
Mrs, Litchfield was as
as in everything else, Sh
expense vouchers in ne:
year,.together with receiy
Pages from her rental ;
cluded. for each year,
a
) his way to
San Joaquin
officers most
on Jackson’s
some of the
fingernails.
it around the
t just chicken
at some little
y was killing
half a day.”
ever heard of
he had never
ckson be held
to Salem for
tate police set
xen farmer.
d wide atten-
{ Washington.
int letters from
the Litchfield
d case. Danger-
suitcases were
thwest.
the week, the
ittention at The
‘olumbia River
~ rtland. The
small crime
ag Dalles house-
ying on Wednes-
ame in the back
‘ourt Street, set
able and walked
ip her coat.
_ in stocking feet
drawers as she
claw hammer.
The man whirled,
or, swinging the
a. The first. blow
inded full on the
ut her, Mrs. Cal-
and grabbed the
hands. The man
rest it away from
d by her husband
vas still conscious
count of what had
description of the
) the hospital with
the skull. Doctors
- Lyons dispatched
way house. They
id entered through
his shoes before
| fled without his
le for the barefoot
bed him.
nn Callaway went
see if he might find
the police.
s in the basement,
*-3-r one of them,
rifle, a box of
no cherries.
peneath the other
blankets was spread
And sleeping peace-
a pale, slender tow-
nv shoes on his feet.
a
oo,
La ES
Callaway tip-toed out, leaving the sleeping
stranger undisturbed while he telephoned
police. Two officers arrived at the home,
awakened the man and took him to police
headquarters.
There, he told officers his name was Bill
Davidson, aged 24. He had arrived in The
Dalles about midnight Saturday by bus from
Portland, and had checked into a hotel.
He was broke—he showed officers that he
had only two cents in his pockets—and had
decided to try his hand at housebreaking. He
readily admitted the assault on Mrs. Calla-
way.
Why had he returned to the Callaway
home? -
“Tt was raining and I "needed my shoes,”
he explained. “I went back to the house
Wednesday night and climbed in the base-
ment window. I didn’t think anybody was
home, so I decided to spend the night and
keep out of the rain.”
Cc Lyons did a little checking and
discovered that his prisoner’s name was
* not Davidson, but Albert William Karnes. He
had been working on a mink farm at Astoria,
Ore., until recently. He was on parole from
the Washington State Reformatory at Monroe,
where he had served eight months for burglary.
Karnes was promptly arraigned on a charge
of. burglary and assault—an offense which
carries a heavy penalty in Oregon. His bail
was set at $10,000.
Sergeant Charles A. U’Ren of the Oregon
state police had been following both this
case and the Litchfield murder with great
interest. His practiced nose smelled a certain
similarity between the axe killing and the
hammer assault.
U’Ren talked with Karnes several times
at the Wasco County jail, questioning him ~
about his whereabouts of the past week.
Karnes said he had started on a vacation
’ trip down the Oregon coast, but had wrecked
his car at Newport on June 5—two days
before the murder of Mrs. Litchfield. New- -
port is a coast town about 60 miles southwest
of Salem. This was verified. :
Karnes said he had then hitchhiked back
to Portland, but not by way of Salem. His
route to Portland, he said, had taken him on
Highway 99 West, which misses Salem by
15 miles.
“Have you ever been in Salem?” U’Reh
asked. ‘
Karnes hesitated. “Yeah, I used to. live
there,” he said at last. “I lived there with my
wife and kid before I got in trouble in Wask-
ington.”
Where had he lived? Well, he didn’t re-
member. It was ‘some rooming house in
Salem.
Down in Salem, Chief- Warren likewise was
impressed by the similarities of the two crimes.
The description of Karnes seemed to match
that of Mrs. Litchfield’s visitor very nicely.
And besides, Jackson, the Grants Pass hitch-
hiker, had been eliminated as a suspect. —
On Monday, June 16, several officers went
back to the Litchfield home to search again
for her records of:previous tenants. They
didn’t have much luck until Warren suggested
a look at the widow’s income tax files. ,
Mrs. Litchfield was as orderly in this respect
as in everything else. She had her income and
expense vouchers in neat envelopes for each
year,.together with receipts to prove each item.
Pages from her rental receipt, book were in-
cluded. for each year.
In the 1950 envelope, Warren’s men found
the names of every roomer who had been 4
guest during the year. There were several |
receipts marked “Al Karnes and wife.”
Warren conferred with Sergeant ‘U’Ren.
. They agreed that this made a strong case
against Karnes, All they needed to do, they
decided, was to confront Kornes with wit-
nesses who could place him in Salem on Sat-
urday, June 7
Salem officers went to The Dalles to ques-
tion Karnes on Wednesday, June 18. With
them they brought George Keith, the. roomer
who had been awakened by the intruder in
Mrs. Litchfield’s home, and the two neighbors,
Kerlee and Mrs. Thurston.
Warren first examined: Karnes’ suitcase which
Dalles officers had recovered from a local hotel.
It contained several trinkets. belonging to. Mrs.
Litchfield.
Karnes was then placed in a lineup at the
county jail. Keith, Mrs. Thurston and Kerlee
picked’ him from the group as the man they
had seen on the day of.the murder.
Karnes abandoned all his defenses when
Keith identified him,
He sat down with Warren and ‘other Salem
officers and, dictated a 14-page confession,
describing his axe ‘attack on Mrs. Litchfield
without a flicker of emotion. .
After wrecking his car, he said, he hitch-
hiked to Salem with the idea of tracing his
wife and child; His wife had divorced him
while he was in the Washington reformatory.
He had lived at Mrs. Litchfield’s place with
his wife before being sent to prison.
He saw Mrs. ‘Litchfield on Friday night,
but got no information about the whereabouts
of his wife and child.
He hung around Salem that night and con-
ceived the idea of robbing his former landlady.
He went to the house about 2 o’clock Satur-
day afternoon. Kerlee and Mrs. Thurston had
seen him on the way.
He found Mrs. Litchfield gathering wood
in the shed. When she looked as though she
would yell, he said, he séized the axe sand
“chopped her down”. He could not account for
the fact that he chopped 14 times.
He said he returned inside the house. and
took “between $20 and $30” from her purse.
He ,overlooked the cashbox.
Then he calmly washed himself in the bath-
room and changed his clothes. After that—
on an impulsé—he made the fatal error of
opening a bedroom door and peering in “at
Keith. ‘
pstricr Attorney E. QO. Stadter, Jr., of
Marlon County formally charged Karnes
with’ first degree murder. *
While the charge was being prepared, Wasco
County authorities got in their licks, Karnes
pleaded guilty to burglary in circuit court at
‘The Dalles on June 19, and was immediately
sentenced: to 15 years in the Oregon State
Prison. .He was taken to the penitentiary: at
Salem the next day.
He was brought from prison on July 7,
and arraigned ‘before District Judge Val D.
Sloper on the murder charge. At this writing
he is awaiting pleading and trial to determine
his guilt or innocence under the law.
Eprror’s Note: The names George Keith and
Emory H. Jackson are not the actual names
of the persons who were in fact participants
in the incidents described in this article. These
mames are used to avoid ‘embarrassment to
sone innocent persons.
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ght was
2 Patrol-
Vernon
>gon po-
through
rning in
1 was be
capital
lliamette
had ex-
nly was
of the
Street,”
and De
ie just
a few
+r Street
minute
heir pa-
a mod-
at that
io alight
up to
<=
“My landlady has been murdered,” the man told the
officers. ‘I just found her: She’s back there in. the wood-
shed. It’s awful,” he concluded, — '
White and De Vall were out of their car in an instant.
“I’m Harold Shell,” their informant told them. “I drive
a taxicab, and when I got home from work a little while.
ago, | found Mrs. Litchfield dead.”
Shell led the officers to the woodshed attached to the
rear of the house and stopped at the door.
“She's in there,” he said.
White and De Vall stepped through the door and came
to an abrupt halt. In a dim light furnished by an overhead
light bulb, the officers saw the crumpled body of an elderly
white-haired woman lying in one corner of the shed between
a rick of wood and a chopping block. A single-bit axe and
a piece of stove wood, both smeared with blood, lay between
the body and a door leading into the house from the shed.
“Only a maniac would use two weapons like that to mur-
der an elderly helpless woman,” declared White.
“This is a case for the detectives,” added De Vall. “I'll
radio headquarters to get them out here right away.”
While De Vall was calling for the detectives, White and
Shell remained at the shed to keep vigil over the body.
Captain Stanley Friese and Detectives Wayne Parker and
David “Mack” Houser had to be’ notified of the murder at
their homes, but within half an hour, they were at the scene,
B® Detective David M. Houser (left) and Captain Stanley Friese exqmine death weapon found in woodshed
Also notified was Marion County Coroner Leston W. How-
ell. He arrived almost simultaneously with the detectives.
White and De Vall quickly passed on the information
they’d received from Shell to Captain Friese. For a moment,
Friese, Parker and Houser viewed the horrible example of
carnage from outside the door, then they stepped aside to
make room for Coroner Howell to enter.
“You'd better look at the body,” Friese told them. “The
sooner we can detérmine when she was killed, the better
chance .we have of getting on the killer’s trail.”
As he bent over the body to make his examination, How-
ell noted that the blood had: coagulated and dried. ‘She’s
been dead for hours,” he told Friese. “Probably since late
yesterday afternoon or early evening. We'll be able to ‘tell
more exactly after the autopsy is completed,” he said.
Determined: that no time should be lost in getting started
with the investigation, Captain Friese instructed White and
De Vall to call headquarters for help, then go to the hobo
jungle along the Southern Pacific Railroad tracks only three
blocks away and rustle out any itinerants they found there.
“Examine. their clothes for blood,” he instructed them,
“and take in all who aren’t able to properly account for
their activities last night.” He then turned to Parker and
Houser. “You fellows start ringing doorbells in the neighbor-
hood,” he told them, “and ask the neighbors if they saw
any suspicious-looking characters around yesterday afternoon
4]
KARNES, Albert W., white, kassed OR® (Marion) January 30, 1953
STRANGE CASE OF THE -¢&
SLAIN LANDLADY
Mi BRUTALLY BEATEN BY AN UNKNOWN ASSAILANT THIS BAFFLING CRIME
| APPEARED TO HAVE NO SOLUTION. THEN POLICE AT LAST FOUND ONE.
A LONG uneventful night was :
| # 6.ddrawing ‘to a close for Police Patrol- officers
} men William De Vall and Vernon shed. It
White, two veteran Salem, Oregon po- Whit
| lice officers, as they cruised through “Pm
their district on a Sunday morning in a taxic
June, 1952. Then, just as dawn was be ago, |
ginning to appear over this capital Shell
situated in the scenic Williamette ree er 4
River Valley, the silence which had ex- “She
isted most of the night suddenly was Whit
broken by the booming voice of the to an ab
‘ police radio operator, light bu
“Proceed to 1333 Waller Street,” white-h:
the operator instructed White and De a rick
Vall. “A man there says he just a plece
found his landlady murdered.” the box
The two officers were only a few “Only
blocks away from 1333 Waller Street der an <
at the time, so it was only a minute “This
of so later that they skidded their pa- radio he
trol car to a stop in front of a mod- While
est single-story white house at that Shell re:
address. Before they had time to alight aaa
@ Mrs. Susan: Litchfield, 81-year-old victim of the fiendish killer ee cm to hima stepped up to eek:
_
~~
eee aS
62
nomah County jail for larceny in the
winter of 1919-20. On top of this, he
had been incarcerated in the reforma-
tory at Granite, Oklahoma, for lar-
ceny. Not a very imposing record, but
then Kelley was not a very imposing
looking man. He was of medium height
and weight, with a muscular build, and
his face was that of a dockhand, rather
than a criminal. Kelley was one of
these horribly deceptive-looking men
who appear to be weak, and are not. --
His features were not combative, his
gaze not aggressive. Oregon Jones had
a strange influence over him. Kelley
seemed to idolize his partner-in-crime
as a master. He never acted on his
own initiative, and it is safe to assume
that he may have been a model pris-
oner except for Jones. This is merely a
conjecture. Kelley had the stuff in him
to be honorable and right, and he had
the stuff in him to be evil and bad. His
was a blending temperament, a Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde controlling his
thoughts and actions according to his
moods.
THERE were two other prisoners
there that interested Murray intense-
ly. One was George “Joe” Jackson, serv-
ing twelve years for holdup from Lane
County, and who had figured in several
escapes from the prison, having reached
open country beyond the walls on more
than one occasion. The other, William
“Snoose” Johnson, a lean and wiry ©
little Norwegian, serving five years,
with a bad criminal record back of him.
With his bony chin ever thrust for-
ward aggressively and his cold, steely
eyes set in deep, bone-rimmed sockets,
alertly. searching for a loophole, he
looked bad and was bad.
With the possible exception of Kel-
ley, Murray classed all these men_as
tough, who were willing to take desper-....
ate chances to escape. Kelley must be
bad, however, Murray mused. Jones
said he was, and that’s all that was
necessary. He assumed that these four
convicts were hardboiled and would go
the limit in any esecape plot, and his
assumption was not far-fetched,
He cultivated a deep friendship for
each of these prisoners, and less than
ninety days after he became a number
within the walls, he was ready with a
scheme for himself and the others to
leave them.
Thus, a clever plot, born in the brain
of a cunning and resourceful man took.
shape, and the five convicts got busy:
It was the custom for a train to en-
ter the prison yard every morning on
or about 8 o'clock, carrying steel, ce-
ment, lumber, etc, for the buildings
which were in the process of construc-
tion. Murray, having served time ‘be-
fore, well knew of the possibilities of,
a ‘“stool-pigeon” as to how quickly un- ©
derground news could reach prison
officials. So with a word here and a
word there by either him or a member
of his gang, to the friendly ears of an
“informer” the information passed that
the men were to capture the train on
the morning of March 28th, 1924, and
ride out to freedom.
Soon Murray knew that his scheme
was working perfectly, and his plot- «
ting beginning to materialize. While
The Master Detective
the officials said nothing to him per-
sonally, or to any member of his gang,
he knew at once that the “stool’s” were
on the job, for he was being watched a
little closer, and the train was under
somewhat heavier guard.
Murray managed to smuggle a hack-
saw blade from the prison machine
shop, and passing this to Jones and
Kelley, he instructed them as to the
next step in his plans. They were not
‘being subjected to such keen scrutiny
as himself, and when the opportunity
resented itself during the day of
arch 27th, the two men strolled un-
concernedly to the alley (Hog Alley)
bativaed is prison dining room and
the South wing cell ‘block.
With a home-made key, manufac-
tured from a spoon handle, they
uickly opened a heavy lock guarding
the steel-barred door, leading from the
day room on the main floor of the
penitentiary into the basement, used
_ for storing commissaries. After some
thirty minutes of diligent work sawing
a bar on the basement window, opening
on the front yard, their job was com-
plete. With a chuckle of satisfaction
after reviewing the large opening
caused by the missing bar, the men
then adjusted it back in its place, and
carefully fastened it with chewing gum.
Brushing the saw filings away, they
then reported back to Murray that
everything was o. k.
The morning of March 28th, 1924,
loomed misty with light rain and fog.
‘As the five hundred prisoners marched
into the yard from their cells, there was
no indication in their demeanor that
anything out of. the ordinary might
occur this day. The reason, of course,
that with the exception of a scant
three or four convicts that Murray
trusted, none of. the five hundred pris-
oners knew anything.
THE officials were aware, however,
that something—a something that
was surcharged with dire possibilities
was bound to happen. To them, the very
air was filled with an ominous warning.
They were BA and tight-lipped, but
Murray and his gang were sublimely
indifferent to their attitudes.
At 8:40 o'clock, a locomotive and
"two freight cars, pulled into the prison
yard, and the alarm was quickly con-
veyed to the guards to be on the alert.
30-30 rifles, short carbines and_ shot-
guns, with their glistening barrels and
ugly noses looked down. from the walls,
and the guards surrounded the train in
‘tense, nervous postures. The officials
and the guards were so busy watching :
the cars that they did not notice six
men race across the yard to Hog Alley. |
Tom murray and his pang, and one
other man, Clive. M. Weekly, serving
fifteen years for bank robbery, and
taken in the plot at the last moment,
quickly, forced the heavy lock on the
‘steel door, and five minutes later, they
were through the opening made pos-
sible from the sawed bar on the base-
ment window.
Crossing forty feet of open lawn at
breakneck speed, without once looking
“back, they mounted ‘the stairs leading:
to the Oregon prison’s famous “bullpen
‘guard tower” at the southwest corner
of the main building.
This was the dangerous moment.
For the barest fraction of a second, the
six convicts’ sub-conscious minds shot
up a question. Would they be met
with a hail of lead when they opened
the door of the tower, or would the
way to freedom be clear.
There was deathly silence inside,
that’s all. The men listened with
mounting apprehension and quickening
breath as Joe Jackson swung an axe
from a side-arm position to smash the
lock.
“WELL, here goes nothing,” he re-
marked grimly, and c-r-a-s-h. The
fragile lock caved under from the blow
of the axe, and the door swung open.
And then the convicts sighed with re-
lief, and suddenly they were happy,
keenly elated, and they laughed out
loud. For Tom Murray’s strategy had
worked with the precision of a watch.
The tower was empty. The guard had
also rushed to the call of arms, “to
watch that train.”
The men’s grins were just too ex-
pansive to hold out against. This was
so easy. Six long-termers leaving town,
and at the same time bidding farewell
to a total of ninety-two years amongst
them. Tom Murray, beating a twenty
year rap, in less than three short
months after his incarceration.
The convicts passed through the
empty guard tower, dropped to the
ground where the sweet tang of free-
dom enlivened their intellect, and rac-
‘ing across the 100:yards of open lawn
to the paved road leading east from
the city, they stopped an automobile
driven by Charles Spurlin, salesman for
the Gideon-Stolz cider works, dazed
Spurlin with a blow behind the ear,
and commandeered his car. Oregon
Jones took the wheel, but the convicts
made no attempt to eject Spurlin from
the car.
_ Oregon Jones pressed his foot to the
floorboard of the machine to get the
maximum speed, and at the reform
school, six miles southeast of the city,
the convicts left the main road, turning
the car into a side road, leading to a
timbered and brushy area. They drove
about a mile-and-a-half into the woods
and abandoned the car, taking Spurlin
with them about a quarter-mile farther
on into the brush. Here, they released
Spurlin after taking all his cigarettes
and matches. Oregon Jones also pro-
posed to take his overcoat, but this was
met with objections by Murray.
“Hell no, it’s too heavy to fool with,”
he said. “We're travelling light.”
Jones then gave Spurlin the key to
his car and told him that he could go,
but the salesman was admonished, to
“go slow or we'll blow your damn
brains out.”
None of the convicts possessed a
. gun, and Jones was simply putting
over a big bluff on Spurlin and getting
away with it.
Back in the prison, everything was
violent commotion and agitation for
a few moments. The escaping convicts
had been seen while they were racing
down State Street by Mr. Huddleston,
turnkey, and Mrs. J. W. Lillie, wife of
the Deputy-Warden of the prison. from
January, 1933
a window situated in the turnkey’s
office, and the alarm was sounded at
once.
The officials received the news, first,
with consternation and amazement,
then chagrin. They had been outwitted
by the convicts, and they saw through
the ruse immediately. They were dis-
mayed and ill-humored, but out of the
confusion came the realization that six
desperate fugitives were at large some-
where, and a posse of guards was sys-
tematically organized, and started out
in cars in pursuit of the fleeing men.
Soon, other posses of the Salem po-
lice, deputies from the sheriff's office
and many volunteers were quickly or-
ganized and rushed out in pursuit.
Within a span of a few hours there
were literally hundreds of manhunters
in the field, including many members
of the Portland police force, and every
man was out for blood. ‘
All highways in either direction of
Salem were closely guarded and offi-
cers were stationed in all of the more
important towns and cities to watch
the railroads.
Then it was that the hundreds of in-
evitable false reports began to pour
into the Warden’s office at the prison.
Everyone, it seemed, had seen one or
more of the fugitives and to judge by
the telephone’s incessant ringing, they
had been at a thousand different places
at the same time. -
ONE report was to the effect that ‘the
convicts had travelled east through
the heavily-timbered district toward
Shaw, a few miles from Salem. Simul-
taneous with this, the men were seen
going at top-speed in a northerly direc-
tion, and had been sighted near the
Turner cemetery. Right on the heels
of this red-hot tip, the convicts had
entered the John Smith ranch, two
miles from Aumsville.
These are but three of the small Ore-
gon towns in the vicinity of Salem,
but the many others were not to be
outdone and they also hurled in their
anxious messages, giving some local
credit for having been within a scant
few feet of the desperadoes some time
during the first few hours of the man-
hunt.
False report after false report added
to the confusion of the officials, but
nevertheless, William “Snoose” John-
son, surrendered to Lute Savage and
F. C. Myers, guards at the prison, the
following day after’ the escape. It
would be more appropriate, perhaps
to say that he accidently walked right
on to the guards, during a light fog,
and that there was no alternative but
to be shot dead should he have put up
a fight.
Clive M. Weekly, the last man ad-
mitted to the gang, was the next to be
captured after two-and-one-half days
of liberty. But here was a half-starved
and weary escape that came within the
proverbial eyelash of bluffing his way
through, with certain capture staring
him in the face. Torn from skulking
through the brush and hopelessly lost
in the fog, Weekly stumbled upon the
little town of Stayton from the North.
Before he knew it, he was well inside the
town and did not dare to go back. He
The Master. Detective
63
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New York City
January, 1933
No Prison Could
Hold Him
(Continued from page 19)
on, December 31st, 1923, and Walker
immediately set his. mind to a good job
inside the walls where on some day in
the distant future he might perhaps ob-
tain a commutation of sentence, and
walk out the front gate legitimately, a
free man. Walker was a fatalist and
he resigned himself to the unfortunate
circumstances in which fate had en-
meshed him.
But Murray was not a fatalist. He
was not a firm believer in this “what
is to be, will be” stuff. He was not of
the type to submissively resign himself
to the agonizing ordeal of long years
of physical and mental torture merely
because some hard-hearted judge had
sentenced him to that fate. Murray
started New Year's day, 1924, with a
brand new resolution, to keep his eyes
open, to “beat” the wall. His good-
looking face fell into hard lines. His
senses suddenly became abnormally
alert, his cold, slate-grey eyes ever
searching, probing for some potential
escape that was bound to materialize.
Three weeks later, Walker was placed
in the laundry department, where he
could keep clean and the work was
easy. Murray was given employment
as a brick layer, in a rebuilding pro-
ject, caused from an incendiary cabas-
trophe of late 1929, which had de-
stroyed practically all the department
buildings inside ‘the walls.
AS Murray handled his trowel, lay-
+% ing brick after countless brick, his
keen mind was analyzing the fellow
convicts he was working alongside of.
And what a gang they were—the
toughest men in the “joint.”
There was Bert “Oregon”
serving twenty years for highway rob-
bery, who, with his brother, Dewey,
serving twenty-five years for the same
offense, was received at the prison Jan-
uary 20th, 1923. Oregon Jones was a
notorious character, who had figured
in several sensational escapades in the
Northwest, and who was considered a
dangerous prisoner. Jones was a heavy-
jawed, muscular-built man, not tall but
very compact and powerful. His eyes,
darkish-brown, were masterful, with a
vivid intelligence sparkling with a cold,
challenging eternal vigil. He was also
laying brick, and Murray judged him
as a man who would act first and not
do much talking afterward.
Ellsworth “Crowbar” Kelley, was
carrying hod for Jones. He was also
serving twenty years for aiding Jones
to escape from the county jail in
Grants Pass, Oregon. He had served
time previously, having started his
criminal career back in the winter of
1912-13 in Iowa, when he was sent to
jail for larceny of a coat, and he had
previously been in the Oregon prison
in 1915 to serve a term of from one to
seven years for larceny. He was
paroled after serving two years and
six days, but later he was sentenced to
serve two one year terms in the Mult-
Jones,
The Master Detective
61
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64
kept on going, avoiding the main bus-
iness streets, meanwhile, shivering with
apprehension at every dogged step, lest
he be stopped. Finally, he arrived at
the bridge which crosses the Santiam
River. He was hardly on the bridge
when two guards approached him from
behind, but he kept on walking at a
moderate pace, determined to bluff his
way through if possible.
The guards, James Dalt and Harry
Roe, stopped him, questioned him
briefly, and after eyeing him specula-
tively, one of them said.
“Oh, he’s all right. | know him.”
With a super-human effort to control
his quaking knees, the convict again
walked leisurely on, but his unkempt
appearance aroused the suspicion of two
guards in an automobile that came up
behind and passed him on the bridge.
At the far end of the bridge the car
stopped, Marshal Henry Smith, of
Stayton, jumped out and as Weekly
came up, stopped him. For an in-
stant, Weekly's brain froze, but still
determined to bluff his way through,
he answered their questions as best as
he could and thought he was getting
away with the bluff until one of the
guards took hold of the sweater the
convict was wearing, and raised it up,
ne the numbers on his prison
shirt.
THAT was all. With a weary gesture
of defeat, Weekly shuffled reluctant-°
ly forward and held his lacerated wrists
in front of him for the cuffs.
Joe Jackson and Crowbar Kelley,
were the next two that felt the jaws of.
the posse trap snap on them. They
were recaptured by Lute Savage, one
of the same guards who had figured ‘in
“Snoose” Johnson’s apprehension, and
there was a strange coincidence in the
direct parallel of the two distinct cap-
tures.
As did Johnson, Kelley and Jackson
stumbled on Savage, in the intense
darkness during the fourth night of
their freedom, and they immediately
found themselves facing the business
end of a 30-30. That unfortunate blun-
der meant only one thing for them—
back to the prison and solitary con-
finement in the Bullpen, for an indeter-
minate period.
Tom Murray was the next to be en-
tangled in the manhunter’s net. . The
young desperado, with Oregon ee
was skirting the highway near Jeffer-
son, some eighteen miles south of.
Salem, on the night of Wednesday,
April 3rd, when M. J. Melchoir and O.
Olsen, National guardsmen of Salem,
surprised them .and captured Murray. —
It was about 9:30 that night that the
guards were seated in a parked car on.
the side of the highway, when the two:
fugitives stumbled within twenty feet
of them, and the command of “halt”
was immediately given. :
Both fugitives broke into a run and :
the soldiers opened fire. Th
er
sounded their angry whines but t
men continued to race on at top speed.-
Then Murray struck headlong in a wire
fence and his clothing became en-
meshed in the barbs, but Jones was
more fortunate, and skimmed under
The Master Detective
the wires to freedom. The guards con-
tinued their incessant firing and the
bullets passed over Murray’s head with
menacing purrs.
Then he called out:
“Well, here | am. Come and get me.”
When he was searched, a revolver
which had been stolen from the Doer-
fler ranch near Marion, was found on
him. The gun was fully loaded. At no
time, however, had Tom Murray at-
tempted to even try to use the weapon
on the guards. As yet, the ruthless
killer had not developed in him. This
certainly was no bad man, with a
loaded revolver in his possession, the
while submitting tamely to a couple of
amateur manhunters. But the fact of
the matter was, Tom Murray was not
looking for blood. He had utmost con-
fidence in his ability to make a clean
getaway in time to come and not take
human life.
He was shackled and handcuffed by
the guardsmen and within an hour he
was back in the prison, giving surly
grunts to questions from the Warden.
Plagiarism
Stories have been submitted to
this magazine which are copies
that have appeared in other mag-
azines.
, Anyone submitting a_plagiar-
ized story through the mail, and
receiving and accepting remu-
neration therefor, is guilty of
Federal ‘offense in using the
mails to defraud.
The publishers of THE MAS-
TER DETECTIVE are eager—as
are all reputable publishers—to
stamp out this-form of literary:
theft and piracy, and are advising
all magazines, from which such
stories have been copied, of such
plagiarism and are offering to co-
operate with the publishers there-
of to punish the guilty persons.
Notice is hereby given. to all
who submit stories that the same
must be the original work of the
author, ;
“Well Murray, I’m glad to see you
back,” was Warden Dalrymple’s greet-
ing as the prisoner was led in.
«
Well, I’m not glad: to get’ back,”
Murray snapped.
“T suppose life in the brush is pretty
tough?” the Warden ventured.
The convict’s grim answer was as
chill as ice. “No, not tough. It’s great.
1 wish I was right back out there beat-
ing around in the brush. And that life
out there was not nearly as bad as these
other guys said. We lived pretty well,
srt and I, on stolen chickens and
such,” iy
Tom Murray was led away to a cell
in the prison bullpen, to join his recap-
tured companions. Here, the five stayed
for a matter of some thirty days, with.
only a_steel-slat bunk for their bed,
and a daily menu consisting of a small
bowl of beans or hash and two thin:
slices of bread and a bowl of black cof-
ee ee ee ae eee ne Te EAR AAMAS i a ut to
fee at ten-thirty o’clock each morning.
At the end of this month of harsh dis-
cipline, they were placed back in the
yard, with all privileges given back to
them.
After Oregon Jones had skimmed un-
der that wire fence, he had apparently
vanished in thin air as far as the
posses were concerned. The manhunt
became even greater than before but
their concentrated efforts to recapture
the desperado were in vain. After a
week or more of dogged searching, the
posses were called in and Jones was
definitely given up as missing. And
“missing” he certainly was—for awhile.
- More will be told of him Jater.
Back to his trowel went Murray, to
the monotonous labor of laying bricks.
He had perpetrated one clean escape
from a supposedly impregnable prison,
and he had supreme reliance in_ his
ability to devise another.
Then suddenly, Murray was given
employment in another part of the pen-
itentiary.
At that time, many huge truck-loads
of cordwood were being hauled inside
the walls to be stacked up, and, strange
to believe, it was being stacked within
a few scant feet of the North wall.
Murray took this all in at a glance,
saw the staggering possibilities of this
woodpile and became elated. By a few
disarming questions directed to the
convict truck-drivers, he learned that
there were several hundred cords to be
brought in.
It was almost ironical that Crowbar
Kelley, Snoose Johnson, Joe Jackson
and Clive Weekly should be placed on
the same job as Murray.
_After an hour or so of work, Murray
singled out Jackson. :
“See anything about this woodpile
that looks good, Joe?” he questioned
eagerly,
JOE ‘looked at Murray skeptically a
‘moment; then directed his gaze to
the stacks of cordwood, carefully scan-
ning everything in sight. Then suddenly
his heart gave an unprecedented twist.
“Hell yes, I see something,” he ex-
claimed, “the wall.” Then a frown
touched his face. “But I don’t think
we can make ’er over, Tom.”
Murray's gray eyes twinkled. “No.
not over,’ he agreed, perfectly calm and
collected, “but under.”
It took Jackson a moment to grasp
the significance of that last remark.
Then he became: cold‘with excitement.
“You mean, a tunnel?” he said,
-flashing a searching look of inquiry at
Murray.
Tom's reply came with a cool laugh.
“Yes, a tunnel, I’m beginning to be-
lieve that the officials are getting tired
of feeding us and want us to escape.
This out is a cinch.”
“It’s bound to work,” Joe agreed en-
thusiastically. “A clean out. Let’s get
the gang.”
Kelley, Johnson and Weekly listened
intently while Murray unfolded his
plot. They were very much interested
and after some intelligent planning,
reminiscent of an Army Field General's,
Murray had his scheme complete.
Thus, work for a second escape be-
gan, work to effect a wholesale delivery,
:
Jul
74
was a lot of stools all over the jail, but
you know | will do it before I stop, so
don’t give up. | let a man try to get it
up to you and he missed it and hit the
wall back of the tailor shop, so I had
to get a man to get it back. Now then,
be sure to have a good (——) before
fou try as you are going to be (——)
riday or Saturday. The P. K. ‘told
Buster so we don’t think we had better
make the Bullpen after you leave, as
they will look for you to do it, for they
told me so last time. Just let me know
every time you want anything. Here
are a few new ones for you to know.
Be sure to know them when you come
out.” (Followed a list of symbols
with their meaning explained in their
code alphabet.)
The other note read as follows:
“Dear old friend: (—) (—) told me
a bull got it last time, so will try. again.
Will send it when the old bull is on,
and he won’t see it. He’s blind in both
eyes. (—) got news for you, good
stuff too. Everything looks good for
you when you come out if the bulls
don’t wise up. P. K. is watching me
pretty close, and (—) is watching me
like a hawk, so be careful when you
come out. I got a man who plays ball
to get this to you. If the bull gets this,
tell (—) and I won’t send any more
for awhile. You see (—) when you
come out and have a talk with him,
about the news he’s got. Two or three
others want to see you too, if it is all
right with you. You know that they
are all right. (—) is watching all the
time for us. That — damn bull in jail
knows that I’m waiting for you to
come out and is watching me all the
time. When you do come out, don’t
try to see me direct, but see (—) (—)
and send word by him to me. Buster
says that they watch (—) too, so you
had better see (—) first. They don’t
watch (—) any more, and he has a
good job now and he can help us a
lot. When you come out, all we have
to really watch is the P. K. and the
Y. C. and that — damn bull in the
jail. All the rest is plenty dumb, (—)
The Master Detective
told me Y. C. made the remark they
wouldn’t take you out, but Buster heard
the P. K. say that he would. I think
they will. I am going to get off this
job soon or come down there too, for
that — damn bull is riding me rough.
I’m anxious to hear what you’ve got
planted outside the walls. That’s got
me hot and bothered. (—) will tell you
I sent this, and if the bull gets it, tell
him. Your old pal (—)
The spaces enclosed in parentheses
signify symbols which apparently stood
for names, and, were in all prokability
known only to these two. The refer-
ence to someone who had news to tell
Jones was obviously, Murray, as he
was the only one who had the good
job referred to. The other was a man
who helped to feed Jones in the Bull-
oi and this man was Eddie Walker,
urray’s bank-robber pal.
It is manifest that Kelley realized
quite thoroughly that he was ig kept
under strict surveillance by the officials,
and for that reason, he was taking every
precaution to warn Jones, to avoid any
trap which might have been set by the
guards after the latter’s release from
solitary confinement. Pertaining to the
something “planted outside the walls”
more will be told about it later. That
something was the real motive for
Oregon Jones having traveled half-
across the continent “to plant outside
the walls” in a desperate attempt to
effect his companion’s release from pris-
on, and it was a contributing factor
which led to his own recapture in Sac-
ramento.
J ELLY became sulky when Jones
went to the Bullpen, and he would
betray gloomy anger when any official
or convict alike would approach him,
other than the members of his gang. As
the days passed, and his companion con-
tinued his forced fast on the bean and
hash diet, his demeanor was one of mo-
rose silence, flashing only sudden, sullen
temper when any one spoke to him.
It became necessary to reprimand
le
F
him often, and finally he became so use- i
Jess and incorrigible that it was found d:
best to transfer him to the yard where th
the Yard Captain, Mr. Asa Fisher, th
placed him at work where he could be
constantly watched. But finally he re- M
fused to obey orders altogether or do on
any work of any kind, and it was fy
necessary to transfer him to the Bull- a
pen also.
Both these convicts were still con- sins
fined in solitary cells when Mr. M. W.
Miller was appointed Principal Keeper
on July 15th, but they were released th
soon afterward, however. The new P. a:
K. instructed all guards to watch them ra
continually, to keep them under the 7
strictest of surveillance, to keep them a
at separate jobs where they could not hic
mingle together, but this was an im- an.
possible task on Sundays when the | ae
prisoners were allowed to mingle indis- Fons
criminately on the “Island” or at the ion
ball game. tell
AND on the Sunday afternoon, fol- -
lowing Oregon Jones’ and Crowbar thi
Kelley’s release from the Bullpen, these | r
two convicts, with Tom Murray and } “yy
Blackie Willos, lay on a grassy spot to |
one side of the “Island” and the follow- ‘iad
ing general conversation took place:
(Note: The author of this story was
there too.)
“Now, I want to. tell you guys what
my motive was for lamming back out
here on the West Coast,” said Jones.
Oregon Jones directed his gaze to
Murray and Willos. He had just
completed a rambling discourse of his
experiences, while in the role of a badly
wanted fugitive from justice.
Something in Jones’ voice made Wil-
los and Murray sit up straight—as if
transfixed.
There was a moment’s indecision as
he paused and looked about him and
listerled, and then he went on in a low,
rapit! mumble.
* “Kelley already knows about it. I
told him while we were in the hole, and
now I want to tell you guys. We're
short-timers, fellows, right now. In-
shocking atrocity.
world.”
Madeline Kelley records in a colorful manner a different
react to a situation involving illicit love makes this trag:
Remember, the date you can secure these stories im March True D
then, or order one early. But don’t miss it! ;Twenty-five cents in the United States; thirty cents in Canada.
COMING IN THE MARCH ‘TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTERIES
BEHIND. THE SCENES IN THE SENSATIONAL DUBOIS SLAYING
A graphic and absorbing account by Fred H. Thompson which reveals the scarlet secrets
his charming wife—and the third angle of the bloody triangle,—a beautiful and mys'
begins a series of sinister events which runs the gamut of human desire and emotion and reaches a shocking climax that stunned New England and surprised
the whole Atlantic Seaboard. Next month’s lead story! Don’t miss it! :
THE CRIMSON HORROR ON WILLIAMSBURGHTBRIDGE
is well named; for this story by Dugal O’Liam is just that. It begins with a gruesome find on one of the great bridges that connects Brooklyn with Greater
New York, and develops into a horrible jig-saw puzzle defying solution until tireless officers dig up an almost invisible clue that supplies an answer to the
LOS ANGELES’ ORIENTAL LOVE KILLING
type of detective story. The Oriental background, the way in which men and women of the Orient
edy, which includes a ghastly murder, unique in criminal annals.
THE ASTONISHING CASE OF ELSIE CAMERON
An obscure London stenographer, on her way to spend the week-end with her swectheart,
mystery, and the unearthing of a crime without parallel in the history of Scotland Yard—a
and leave even such a brilliant man as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in somewhat of a quandary a
that will appear in this smash March issue of Truz Derective MysrEries.
that Seattle can’t forget; “The Real Truth about the Assassination of Abraham Lincoln,
Fultz, has delved into very thoroughly, with the result a fascinating story; and
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Some of the others are: “Who Killed Letty Whitehall?”’, a Hallowe’en mystery
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“The Clue of the Hangman’s Knots,” a story laid on the “richest hill in the
eTECTIVE Mysrerizs is February Second. Ask your nearest news-stand dealer for a copy
Dn rm
February, 1933
Oregon prison officials wired imme-
diately to Buffalo, Niagara Falls, Tor-
onto, Chicago and a few other Eastern
points to impart information to the
various police departments to look for
he and generally remind him of his
axity to fulfill his promise. But it was
of no avail. His whereabouts was a
closed secret for months.
Then like a bolt out of the baby blue
sky, Oregon Jones was reported cap-
tured, according to information re-
ceived by Warden Dalrymple on April
24th, 1925. A few days after this, he
was returned to the Oregon _peniten-
tiary by Deputy-Warden Lillie, wear-
ing an Oregon boot on one ankle, chain
hobble on both and heavily manacled
to his keeper. :
Jones was in a conversational mood
upon his return and he kept the officials
interested for a half-hour or so, dwell-
ing cor past incidents of the previous
months.
He said that while he was away from
the prison he had traveled many states,
even as far away as Maine, Florida and
Cuba. He claimed to have been mar-
ried on August 7th, 1924, in Cleveland,
and said he had worked as a truck-
driver in Cleveland.
Upon returning to the Coast, he said ~
that he and another ex-convict named
Edwards, stole an automobile in Cali-
fornia and drove as far north as Rose-
burg, Oregon, on April 2nd, 1925. They
returned to Sacramento and were at-
tempting to sell some of the accesso-
ries in the automobile when they were
captured. Jones received a thirty-day
sentence in the city jail and had served
about two weeks when he was identi-
fied.
Jones admitted writing the letter to
chapel guard Fisher from Buffalo, New
York, and he said he left his finger
prints on the letter so his signature
could be confirmed. Prison authorities
had never doubted that this had come
from Jones. He also admitted having
written a postcard from Boston, to his
brother, Dewey Jones, signed by the
name, Fred Hess.
joe told of his wanderings through
the Middle-West and Southern states
and as far north as Maine. He claimed
to have been a passenger on a ship out
of New York for Cuba, on December
23rd, 1924. :
He was twice arrested, he said, once
at Grand Island, Nebraska, and again
in Cleveland. His identity in Grand
Island was unknown and he was held
only a short time. But in Cleveland, he
awe $340 in money and a diamond
stickpin that was insured for $3,000. A
detective recognized him as Oregon
Jones, so Jones gave the detective the
diamond and the money to turn him
loose. Jones acquired this loot while
working as a truck-driver for a firm
of interior decorators. He had taken
workmen and tools to a wealthy home
where the man and the woman and
another man were all drunk. The dia-
mond pin lay on a shelf. The husband
told the wife to put it away before
someone stole it.
“She tossed it into a vase,” said
Jones. “After awhile I went back and
The Master Detective
managed to be the last workman to
leave the house. I rifled the vase and
got the diamond, the mone and a
string of beads. The beads ‘didn’t
amount to much.”
During Oregon Jones’ absence from
the prison, Mr. J. R. Carey and Mr.
M. W. Miller, head and second cell
house guards, respectively, kept their
eyes glued on Ellsworth Kelley with in-
terest. During those months, Kelley
was a model prisoner, although given
to mental lapses and severe brooding
on occasional spells. Where before, he
had always been in a huddle with his
pal, everlastingly plotting to beat the
walls, he now spent his leisure hours
playing baseball, sparring a few lively
rounds with the boxing gloves, or off
in a corner somewhere, strumming a
popular air on his mandolin. A model
convict.
As soon as Jones returned, however,
the other side of Kelley’s dual disposi-
tion came to the surface. His first act
was to request an immediate transfer
to the yard. The officials became_sus-
picious at this sudden request. They
realized that it was made only so that
he could be with Jones, as they were
pals of long standing, so they refused
to sanction this transfer at once or be
explicit in their reasons for doing so.
They wanted to watch Kelley a Tittle
closer for the time being, to note his
reactions during the crucial period of
his idol’s first few days return to con-
finement.
§ s
THE officials had ample opportunity
to note his reactions much sooner
than they expected.
Oregon Jones was incarcerated in the
Bullpen for flatly refusing to work, two
days after his return to the prison from
Sacramento. For the burly convict was
in an egotistical frame of mind upon
his return, and to capitalize. on the
reputation of the dangerous desperado
that he really was, his first move was
to turn thumbs down on all work or
anything that resembled work.
The officials kept Kelley under close
observation after Sones! incarceration in
solitary confinement, and they became
convinced that he was trying his ut-
most to communicate with his pal in
the Bullpen. When they discovered two
or three notes in the Bullpen yard, writ-
ten in code of some kind, their suspi-
cions were confirmed, because, they had
always known that the men had a code
system of communication. These notes
were found wrapped inside a yard ball,
which had apparantly been. thrown over
the wall of the building by some con-
federate. They possibly never confis-
cated all these notes which were sent
over in this way, however, as Jones very
likely got some that the wall guard
never saw. The officials were unable to
decipher these messages until after
Oregon Jones had met his death, and
then the cipher code was found in his
pocket as he lay dead outside the pris-
on walls.
Two of these messages, written by
Crowbar Kelley, and sent to Jones in
the Bullpen, when deciphered, read as
follows:
“Dear old friend: (——) I had a
hard time to get this up there as there
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February, 1933
side of a week we're going to beat this
damn joint—and we're going to beat it
the tough way. What do you think of
thatP”
There was a tense electric silence.
Murray and Willos eyed the burly pris-
oner surreptitiously, behind which
lurked respect, but they voiced no opin-
ions.
Jones’ eyes glinted with quick amuse-
ment. He tried to keep the exultation
from his voice.
“1 told the bulls when I came back
that I came North as far as Roseburg,
and then turned back toward Sacra-
mento,” he said. “That was poppycock.
I came right up to the joint here one
night, parked my heap out there on the
highway, and just sat on the cushions
and looked at the lights from the cell
blocks. I thought of you poor devils in
here, mostly of Crowbar Kelley, of
course, but somehow—I felt good. I’m
telling you I felt good, because | knew
that I had the goods right on me to
spring the whole bunch of you out of
this rotten dump.”
Murray interrupted with a gesture.
“What do you mean?”
Jones burst out almost brutally. “I
mean that I had two gats on me, two
forty-five automatics, and loaded to
the gunnels.” He hesitated a moment,
then his face relaxed in a crude smife.
“And buddy, I planted ’em—outside
these walls—where we can get to ’en}.”
Murray and Willos stiffened vio-
lently in amazement.
“Where?” Murray exploded. . It was
a question and a challenge at once.
eae eyed him shrewdly and smiled.
“Under the old ‘Chink’s’ shack, over on
the other side of the county road. | put
the two rods and fifty rounds of am-
munition in an old five-gallon can, and
put the can under the floor of the
shack. After I had planted them, |
went back to Sacramento, figuring that
I would get word to Kelley some way
that they were there. Then, he could
get some trusty that was right to bring
them in and he could blast his way out.
“B UT then in ‘Sac’ I got pinched, and
got thirty days in the ‘can.’ They
never printed me, you see, when I got
hooked, so I thought that everything
would be all right. But after I had
served about two weeks, who come up
one day but old man Fisher’s daughter,
the Bertillion expert. She lamped my
mug right away and I guess it came to
her that she had seen my picture in the -
rogues’ gallery some time or the other.
She left, and right away she came back,
and she had a circular in her hand
which this joint had out for me. Well,
she showed me my picture and said,
‘You’re Oregon Jones, aren’t you?’ I
said ‘Yes’ although | hated like hell to
admit it. That’s all there was to it.
Tough luck, eh?”
Murray and Willos nodded sympa-
thetically. Then Murray’s breath
sucked in a little hiss. “But about them
rods, Oregon?”
Jones face hardened perceptibly.
“Oh yeah, the rods. Well, I can use
‘em myself now. Listen, you guys.”
He cleared his throat. His face was
gray. He spoke through taut lips.
“George Johnson goes out Wednesday,
The Master Detective
don’t he?” Oregon. was . determined. |.
Murray nodded immediate assent.
“All right,” Jones said. “George is
solid. We know that. He’s made a lot
of triés to make the joint himself. We'll
see him, and ask him to go out to the
Chink’s shack on next Wednesday night
and get them guns, and transfer them
over to the field where Jimmy Cole is
working. darreny is a trusty and he’s
ae people. He’ll bring them in, when
e comes in at eight o'clock in the }
evening.”
(The “Chink’s” shack is a three-room
house which is on the prison grounds,
some two hundred yards directly south
of the walls. The highway skirts this
house and any motorist, traveling this
road can reach it easily. It gets its
name, mainly, as all the Oriental pris-
oners, years.ago, were housed here, out-
side the walls.)
Murray and Willos first nodded with
solemn fervor; then suddenly, they were
-all eagerness and enthusiasm. 3
“Wait here,” Murray said. “I'll go
and get George right now.”
Johnson was easily found by Murray,
while he was witnessing the ball game
and he readily agreed to accompany
him back to the waiting gang.
_ “Now George,” Jones began impres-
¥sively. “You're sitting amongst a
bunch of guys now that’s got so much
time that it just can’t be handled. Un-
less we escape, it’s just a case of ‘do
what you can.’ You’re the only man
that can save us from that time—that
can help us to escape, without im-
plicating yourself in the least. Now,
I’m going to ask you to do something
for us and | don’t want you to say
‘yes’ unless you mean it. Are you
game?”
Johnson drew back and studied him
in astonishment. Then he nodded his
head décisively.
“Tf I can help you fellows to get out
—then, I’m game.”
Jones’ face lighted with an approv-
ing smile. “That’s all I wanted. to
know. Here’s the plan.”
The plan by which: Johnson could
gather up the guns and transfer. them
to the field where the trusty was work-
ing was outlined minutely to the con-
vict, and at the end, he solemnly shook
hands with the four escape plotters
and said:
“Don’t worry, if the guns are there,
I'll get ’em!” :
Has Oregon Jones been intelligent
and farsighted enough to plan the per-
fect escape?
Will these daring jail-breakers not
only “beat the wall” as they have done
before, but, armed, will they fight
their w4y to freedom in the outside
world and again take their places in
society?
What new schemes will Tom Mur-
ray add to this sensationally planned
jail delivery which will place his
name higher than any other as the
greatest jail-breaker of all time?
The man who was on the scene of
these daring jail-breaks continues his
sensational story in the March issue
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The Astounding
Story of Convict
Tom Murray,
Oregon State
Prison’s
Notorious
Escape Plotter
The story so far:
Tom Murray, bank
robber and desperado,
who was sentenced for
a bank robbery in Flor-
ence, Oregon, escaped
and was about to start
a new career as boot-
legger when a woman
turned him in. Em-
bittered by a long sen-
tence, he determined to
escape again. He made
friends with ‘“Crow-
bar” Kelley, “Oregon”
Jones, and other hard-
ened criminals. To-
gether they planned
and executed two sen-
sational escapes only to
be caught and returned
to prison. Following
one of the escapes Jones
returned to the very
walls of the prison and
buried two guns for
future use. Back in .
prison now he outlines
a “break” to his fellow
plotters. Johnson, whose
term is almost up,
agrees to get the guns
and turn them over to
Jimmy Cole, a trusty.
22
Miotir Mle
Wie AQh "/93
Pie SS
ge
Paina SO ih eae te are
a2,
a
i
(Left) Tom Murray, probably
the toughest convict to keep
behind prison walls in the whole
history of modern crime
The story continues:
Part THREE
OHNSON was telling the
gospel truth. He did get
them.
The convicts next sin-
gled out Jimmy Cole, and |
he also agreed to carry out his
part to the letter. He said that
he would bring the guns in the
prison at eight o'clock, the fol-
lowing Saturday evening.
George Johnson was dressed out
promptly at his scheduled time,
the following Wednesday, his sen-
tence completed. And thereafter,
for the following few days, Mur-
ray and his gang went about their
work, tensely ‘alert, strictly avoid-
ing each other which might excite
the officials’ suspicion, only shoot-
ing triumphant veiled glances at
each other.
On Sunday morning, Jones and
Kelley marched into the prison
Jones fe
dining roon
secretly rej
they did n
placed in tt
tiary, with
seen Jimmy
ning previot
under his rig
ing bundle.
Murray a
dining ‘room
broad, expre
right, that
inside the w:
for freedom -
But when
their joyous
“No, the g
Jones’ eyes
“What? Y.
Jimmy’s fa
winced and ti
“When I cx
thought that
soon as he wa
last night an
found the five
re ——
SP
i. Desperate “Oregon”
@ Jones died under
“guard guns as_ he
calmly shot his last
’ man. to cover his
comrades escape.
An artist shows how one by one the notorious quartet
descended a rope to the prison yard where they dashed
through blazing death and left their leader dying atop
the penitentiary wall.
the opening with vigor, but it seemed ages to them before the
hole was big enough for a man’s body to pass through.
Jones climbed up first. He was the leader, a desperate
character, serving twenty years for assault and robbery. The
second man to pass through the hole was Tom Murray, doing
twenty years for a bank robbery at Florence. Next was Ells-
worth Kelley, up for twenty years for aiding Jones to break
jail on a previous occasion. Last was James Willos, with the
comparatively short sentence of seven years for burglary.
They raced across the roof.
“The rope—quick,” Jones commanded, “before the guards
sight us and open fire.”
Murray stripped off his shirt and from around his waist
took a long length of rope. It was in five sections knotted to-
gether. He anchored the rope and tossed the free end over
the edge of the roof, in front of the warden’s office.
“Tl go first,” Jones instructed, “Murray will follow. We'll
break for the turnkey’s office and get guns. Willos and Kelley
—you follow as fast as you can.”
Quickly Jones went down the rope and the moment Murray
was beside him they dashed around the corner of the build-
ing and headed for the rear building housing the turnkey.
Then they suddenly came face to face with, Warden A. M.
Dalrymple. The warden had forgotten some letters and had
returned for them. He was unarmed and Murray threatened
him with his wicked looking knife.
“It’s Tom Murray!” the warden cried in warning at the
risk of his life. Then he fled in search of arms.
Not daring to take time to silence the warden, the con-
victs dashed up the stairs and into the turnkey’s office where
James Nesmith, the turnkey, was on duty. With him was a .
guard known to the convicts as “Slaughterhouse” Davidson. ee ,
Both were unarmed. ae
Murray said later that he knocked Davidson to the floor
and that Jones, completely losing his head, beat Nesmith
brutally. Davidson claims that he kicked Jones in the stomach
and fled to arm himself. At any rate, the two convicts won
command in the turnkey’s office.
Suddenly bullets spattered against the walls inside the office.
A hail of lead was coming from Tower One. e
“Get the guns!” Jones cried. “Damn them, get the guns !”
Murray grabbed a heavy cuspidor and battered the lock of
ADVENTURES
URNKEYS OFFICE
SHTORS:
‘
jarsenal in the turn-
Note the bul-
Already noted for one
ison break, Ellsworth
Kelley proved hard to
catch on his later attempt.
th sen
[ | aa
| stc ed
CH HAL KELLEY AND WILLOS bets
| FA * the sav
* eller
MURRAY Gannd Ae
CAPTURED ewe n
. YAKIMA ie
e foci me
BO % te g
\\ Notorious Tom Mur: ; , . ie tg an
- after Bert Jones tel | A si
: dead ii arson’ be ny the al
on trail of convicts. + ae
7 & IMURRAY] [MURRAY] [KELLEY AND GOLDEN @o? :
| * MEETS / |WILLOS DALE ? trier
bs ei WHITE SALMON g gmap memeenep * arn B
4 PS 0 Ss “os
eee: | J gunet eee N@HOOD RIVER ~~~ ei
CU ene ee FLEE TO ; hac! dr
VANCOUVE COLUMBIA Fegee” HOOD RIVER Lo. ing
Se ee eee CROSS WILLIAMETTE RIVER "Lying
e PORTLAND BRIDGE TO WEST SIDE TO ass: ciate
A edoaressan AVOID OREGON CITY POLICE raised a
ot \ wi PORTLAND
pee OSWEGO®@ CONVICTS SIEZE
a \, OREGON FARM AT NEW ERA
YOUNG HERO
’ Held hostage, Leslie
' Newman was forced to
» drive the convicts
| through police lines
* with a shotgun at his
. MONITOR
L "a
APANORLC
: = @’ SILVER-
ee =O TON
e @PRATUM
oe =*
sia hs © See 2EISONERS
f ESCAPE
MAP-STORY OF FLIGHT
Making this a trail of kidnaping, holdups and terror,
the three death-bound fugitives came to the gallows
only after they fell out among themselves and . ; .
scattered. ’ Battling for this prison wall guard tower, one convict fell
and two guards were killed.
STARTLING DETECTIVE
~
the arsenal. The shots from Tower One were doing no harni.
The guard was shooting blindly.
“He won’t get us that way,”’ Murray cried. Then the shots
stopped. “Step on it. We've got to get out there and help
Willos and Kelley.” ;
Snatching shotguns and a pistol from the arsenal, Jones
and Murray ran from the office, firing as they went. Then
they saw Willos and Kelley. The two stood in the prison
yard with hands in the air, stopped by the menacing, levelled
guns of Guard John Sweeney who stood atop Tower One, and
Guard James Holman, crouching behind an iron fence. Be-
tween the two desperate convicts stood Guard Pete White
in a position that protected Willos and Kelley from possible
fire from the other guards.
Growling defiance Murray threw guns to Willos and Kelley:
and Sweeney, seeing four armed convicts, ducked into the
protection of the shelter on his tower.
“Come out of there and throw your gun down!” Jones
shouted to Sweeney. But there was no answer. Sweeney was
looking for a chance to fire at the breakers from safety. Pro-
tecting himself as best he could he levelled his gun through an
opening and fired. Murray had been waiting for the guard
to show and blazed away accurately. Sweeney fell dead
under the fire.
“We've got to get into that tower if we want to get over
the wall,” Jones cried hoarsely to his companions. They
started across the open prison yard, a deadly quartet, intent
on escape. But suddenly from behind the iron picket fence
that offered scant protection, Guard Holman resumed firing.
Exposing himself further to get good aim Holman squeezed
trigger and a slug tore through the flesh of Murray’s right
arm. But in getting in the hit the guard had exposed himself
to Willos who blazed away. The guard, Holman, fell
wounded, clearing the way for the convicts.
Cursing and panting the excited convicts scrambled up the
stairway into the tower. Murray appropriated the gun that
had dropped from the lifeless fingers of Guard Sweeney.
Looking down from the tower the convicts saw that another
guard, Lute Savage, had appeared near the prison garage.
Lying at their feet, the wounded guard, who had seen his
associate shot dead, watched the desperadoes. He saw a gun
raised and knew from the whispers of the four convicts that
another guard faced death.
The Convict Leader Falls
“(XOME over here and make it damm quick,” Jones com-
manded. He wanted‘Savage with them for protection
in the open. Defiantly, Savage opened fire. The convicts
returned the shots and the guard fell, seriously, but not fatally,
wounded.
Kelley, Willos and Murray dropped to the ground outside
the wall. Just as Jones prepared to jump, ‘Slaughterhouse”
Davidson shot him, inflicting a critical wound.
“Tell the boys not to make it more than one,” Jones gasped.
Apparently he did not know that Sweeney was dead. He
turned and calmly shot the prostrate Holman through the head,
grasped Kelley’s hand in a farewell clutch and went into his
death coma.
Leaving their dying comrade, Kelley, Willos and Murray
ran north on the road leading to the state hospital for the
insane, a quarter of a mile distant. As they started Warden
Dalrymple emerged from his home. He opened fire and struck
Murray. The con faltered, then regained his stride and kept
pace with his companions.
As they reached the hospital, Mrs. Alice Osgood, a nurse
en route to her home, met the trio. Murray, bleeding, grasped
her arms and forced her ahead of them. A taxical) was in
the driveway of the hospital. C. V. Ivitts, an attendant, was
leaving its employ and had called the cab to remove his be-
longings.
“Get that heap going in a hurry,’’ Murray ordered Zena J,
Zinn, the terror-stricken, middle-aged driver. Zinn knew
trouble when he saw it and obeyed in double quick time. Mur-
ray released Mrs. Osgood and then the three convicts fled
with Ivitts as a prisoner and Zinn at the wheel. The cab
hurtled down Center street toward the Willamette river bridge
leading to Polk county.
Suddenly Murray snapped an order.
“We won't go this way. Take us east toward Silverton
and the hills.”
Six miles east. of Salem is the little settlement of Pratum.
Two miles east of Pratum, Murray ordered Zinn to halt at
the school house.
“We've got to have street clothes,” Willos said. “You two
guys give us yours,”
Zinn and Ivitts surrendered their outer garments. In addi-
ADVENTURES
Four men re-enact the
Monitor episode in which
the fleeing convicts held
up a card game in this
room, kidnaped the play-
ers and took them on a
wild ride that ended with
a farm family terrorized
under convict guns for
nearly 20 hours, while
the fugitives lay low and
posses combed the entire
state in their futile man-
hunt.
sc ART or emma S 23 _ —
tion $450 was taken from Ivitts, of which
$40 was handed back, and $35 was re-
moved from Zinn’s wallet.
“Now listen, you two,” Kelley
growled. “We're going to tie you up
and don’t you be in too big a hurry to
get loose.” The three convicts disap-
peared and the foothills, rendezvous of
hunted men, swallowed them.
Trail Of Terror
ACK in Salem, all was turmoil.
Guards Holman and Sweeney, to-
gether with “Oregon” Jones. were dead.
Guard Savage was critically wounded.
although he eventually recovered, and
Turnkey Nesmith was badly beaten.
\fter the trio had escaped from the
prison vicinity in the taxicab, the search
had been directed toward Polk county.
Then came word from Ivitts and Zinn
that the “cons” had about-faced and
fled into the foothills.
They had been hard men to keep in
prison, three of these four who had made
the break. Jones, Kelley and Murray
were among five men who escaped from
the penitentiary in March, 1924. All ex-
cept Jones were recaptured quickly and
Jones was cornered in Sacramento,
Calif, about a year later. Murray
escaped again on August 4, 1924, but
didn’t get far. Kelley had broken out
once before, getting away in a load of
sawdust in September, 1923, only to be
retaken a few hours later.
And now, on August 12, 1925, with
night settled down. three dangerous con-
victs roamed the shadowy foothills, des-
perate and armed.
Thursday passed and so did Friday.
Saturday and Sunday without an authen-
tic clue. All the law forces of the state
combined to hunt down three men.
But the rolling hills, with their inter-
mittent open spaces, rugged canyons
and patches of heavy timber, seemed un-
willing to give up the desperate trio.
It was 2.a.m.on Monday, August 17.
In the little community of Monitor.
Oregon, there were few lights other than
those that burned in the pool room and
grocery store. Four men were plavine
cards when thev saw three unshaven
men stalk in, all armed with shotguns.
“Tt's all right. men,” one of the in-
truders said. “I’m Murray and these
fellows are Willos and Kelley. We're
NUuNgry.
Willos and Kelley were exploring the
store. The convicts took food, ciga-
rettes and money.
“Whose car is that outside?” Murray
inquired a good while later.
“Tt’'s mine,”” one man admitted re-
luctantly.
“Take us to Portland,” Murray said
abruptly. “We want all four of you men
with us. That's the best way to keep
you from calling the cops.”
About 5 a. m. the car developed
trouble. Near New Era, Murray ordered
the driver to turn down a side road. About
half a mile from the main highway. they
came to the farm of Charles L. New-
man. Leslie, the seventeen-year-old son
of the farmer, was asleep under a tree.
“Oh, it’s only a kid; don’t hurt him,”
Murray said. “Be a good boy, son, and
don’t start trouble.”
The convict climbed through a win-
dow of the house. He aroused Mr. and
Mrs. Newman, and two of their children.
One Day Of Peril
HERE ensued a day melodramatic
from dawn to far past dusk. It was
a strange gathering. Picture them in
50
EEG Se8:k 5 ein
’
that little farm house. Three desperate
convicts. The five Newmans. The four
men from the pool room, Three men
watching every move of nine persons.
“Now listen, all of you,” Murray said.
“We're going to be here all day. We
don’t want to hurt anyone. We didn’t
intend to kill those guards, but things
went wrong and it was them or us. It’s
the same here. If ary of you start any-
thing funny, we’ll shoot to kill.”
The convicts shaved and had break-
fast. They smoked a good deal. Stubs
littered the floor and Murray got a broom
and swept for Mrs. Newman. He even
washed dishes for her and had a good
time joshing with the daughter. Willos
did card tricks.
The tension lessened.
“You people go about your regular
work,” Murray said. “We don’t want
the neighbors suspicious.”
The father and the boys worked in the
yard, all the while held in check by a
shotgun that peeped from between cur-
tains. A neighbor chatted over a fence
with Leslie. The boy even went to town
for the mail, Murray accompanying him.
“We want to go to Portland now,”
Murray declared. “We'll take Leslie to
drive and we'll take one of the card
players, too. That will keep all you
people quiet until you know that we have
left them in Portland. If. we are stopped
we'll kill them both.”
Then began a drive young Leslie will
never forget. While he drove, a shot-
gun caressed the back of his neck.
After five miles they came to Oregon
City. There are two routes from Oregon
City to Portland, fourteen miles north.
One is the Eighty-second street highway
to Portland's east side residential dis-
tricts. The other crosses the bridge at
Oregon City to the west side of the
Willamette river. Once on the west side
the roads to Portland offer more oppor-
tunity to elude posses.
“We'll cross the bridge, son.” Murray
snapped.
“No—no, “Willos cried. “The papers
said the cops are at the bridge and that
there’s a chain across the road.”
“We'll shoot it out.”
So Leslie, with the gun at his neck,
turned the car toward the bridge. Sud-
denly his hair literally stood on end. A
policeman in uniform was on the side-
walk! If there were trouble, Leslie
feared, the convicts might make good
their threat to kill him. Then the danger
passed. The policeman, smiling serenely,
paid no attention to the car.
Once across the bridge, Portland was
reached without trouble. At an inter-
section in the business district, just skirt-
ing the more crowded streets, the con-
victs fled from the car. Young Newman
and Wilde headed back to New Era.
Meanwhile, police were attempting to
ick up the trail of the men missing
rom the Monitor pool room. Then they
heard from the Newmans.
Three dangerous convicts were at
liberty in a city of 300,000 persons.
People read about it in their morning
papers.
It was a time of terror such as Port-
land had seldom experienced. For police
hoped to bottle the men up in the city.
But they didn’t succeed.
Already Murray, Willos and Kelley
had stolen an automobile, driven to
Hood River, Oregon, and crossed the
Columbia river to White Salmon, Wash-
ington. The fugitives hid together until
Friday when they quarreled and decided
to separate.
Murray Boasts He’s “Big Shot”
URRAY went on his way. For
some reason he doubled back to
Portland and from there made the fif-
teen-minute trip to Vancouver, Wash-
ington, where he boarded a freight train.
He made the acquaintance of a young
fellow already on the train.
“I’m heading north,” the youth,
Phillip Carson, replied to a question. “J
just got sixty days for vagrancy in Port-
land but the judge suspended sentence
and told me to get out.”
It is a strange thing about men who
have run afoul of the law, but they like
to be “big shots.” So did Murray.
“T'm Tom Murray,” he confided. “T
suppose you read how Willos and Kelley
and I got out of Salem?”
The two men got along very well, ex-
cept once when Murray patronizingly
lectured Carson, and decided to stage a
holdup in Tacoma. By the time they
got to Centralia, Carson had decided
to “turn in” Murray to the police. He
induced him to go to the Savoy hotel and
wait while he went out to get two men
to aid in a robbery. Instead Carson went
to the police station.
“T want about fifty men” he told the
officer on duty.
“So do we but the city can’t afford it.”
“Listen, wise-cracker, I've got Tom
Murray—Tom Murray, the convict, see—
in a hotel room. 1 want help.”
The officer sprang to action. A few
minutes later a night watchman named
Charles Pilling had agreed to act the
role of taxi driver and Mayor George
Barrow the role of accomplice. With
Carson they went to the hotel.
“These boys have agreed to help us,”
Carson told Murray.
Pilling stepped closer to the convict,
then suddenly whipped out a gun.
“Put ‘em up, Murray,” he commanded.
There was a tense moment, then Mur-
ray grinned and said:
“Pretty clever.”
Murray was returned to Portland and
from there to Salem under heavy guard.
Authorities barraged Murray with
questions, Where were his companions?
He wouldn't talk. But Carson supplied
aclue. Murray had told him of the split
at White Salmon.
On A Hot Trail
ROr the first time officers had some-
thing definite on which to work. A
party of Multnomah county officers set
out from Portland for White Salmon.
They got news of the robbery of a
store at Bingen, Washington. They saw
the tire tracks of the automobile in which
the men had fled. They were on the
trail!
At 3 p. m. on Saturday the four Port-
land officers saw where the tracks of the
automobile they were following led from
the highway eight miles east of Golden-
dale, Washington.
In a picturesque small cove, a fold in
the hills, the Multnomah county officers
came upon the men they were hunting.
Quietly they surrounded the place where
the men were resting.
Willos and Kelley surrendered with-
out resistance.
Tom Murray committed suicide in prison
before he could be hanged.
James Willos and Ellsworth Kelley
made a determined fight for life but
lost and so on April 20. 1928, some
thirty-two months after their bloody
break for freedom, HVillos and Kelley died
on the gallows.
{ (Contiuneu on Page 3)
PUNERALSET
FOR MONDAY
According to tentative arrange
iments announeed this afternoon
lvaneral services for Officer Sam
\ trrrewvratro wtih hebt — Momwday
Sp ar rertreain co oatte 81 at —aeleek---at
‘the Sika Temple. with the Elks . yesterday repe 10 confers.
in charge. These arrangements ; i o 4 aveal
imay be changed, according te gett OS _ a written con-
L inquest arrangements, -- when he ew pershink.
| Samuey Preawetc. sow of Me m wendell . .
band Mra, W.OG “Trescott Was fagsion fron ler of Jos
born in’ Ashland September 22, ® lias Wm. Rud * les |
) 1925 and was aged 25 years, 23, a by Los Ange ‘
‘twy months amd ope day at the Angeles, ‘wanie ed 1 gever-.
‘time of his death, He attended | eonnection wit I
‘the oubtie schools of Ashland polices in
‘ang was graduated from Ashland le
high xehool with the ¢laag ef al charges.- ken into ae
1926. He was one of the -out- Rumler Was ta 10 gt.
istaunding ‘athletes, starring ip Toem- _— Sherk ne
_Ottieetq
‘both foothall -and basketball. ay tolen car in
iMfe was krenty interested In ath- : pass with a 8 .
lletics and boxing was a diverston | Granta H made a com
| which ha greatly enjoyed, Three his possession, e {minal
land a half years azo he was]! fession | of. nis. er ee
| employed on the city police force, | . \plete con ae
He was keenly interested in Ken-|! . ee
ifleation- work. “and fingeror™ matt : Laotivities:
~ " am es ee |
. 1
ing and photography were his},
j particular hobby. — “ ciieaentin eee at aE Tr a
' He tg survived by his ‘parents . Senerine THA <3
Mr. and Mrs, W. G.. ‘Preseott: | if
by two brothers, Hubert and for
| Milan, hoth 4 vy. k “ant . onsible fo
the atic Seate: Webort te win : | "The cot omm mitt ittee_respe } of
oe 1] meeting
mand of a private yacht; and {1 Dp “the annua ts
by a sister, Laura, new Mra {sett ng 3 Mo C. A. meet
George Barker, fords residen iy . the. “ashiand” 2D <a a 1
Portland, i ees | | cai ots «~~ the-.plans-—
Frateraally, Wel wan “altittn ea} i tonight 5 area. i man. The
with the Asbland Lodge “ot 6tWati ~° putman, is the cha . :
ands. member of “the’ Sonthern |! A, Putm oad are C, E. Dunham
Oregon’ Law! Enforcement Ott em
ers’ Awsoclation, oS { other ae lings, Cc. Gillmore.
tie ger aie Homer Billing Mat Thoms
Pols rari Don M. Spencer and Mat Thom
| gon. } g will be
<q@he annual” -meetto
held some time in early | Febru-,
\
11 CNEL inte ne
j
Xiller, In Death Cell, Can
“Hear Guards Make co iba |
Preparations Por 2B: Bxecution Priday Morning—@al-
| lows Tested—45 May Witness Zaecution.
Art.2 gg I193/ Ashland Costu
we Die ae
By DENNIS LANDRY (range which feve witl ape the
“nited Ores Stall Corrsepondeat dros. The taird lever in al Se. ~
STATE PENITENTARY, (iy inoperative. With the ad, de-
Salem, Ors., Oct, 2—ALP— blow anable to gee thowe ad; Che
The state of Oregoa went (levarg, or tho guacds ia the dark
thea talay wih grim pro- au to how tha trap is coaaweted
ceedings of Lhe aoose, (he mun wo actually gaaffm ou
from his deasa ceil, Wil- iovsies’y fe will ast ba ZkA@wH
‘iam ‘Aingsiey could hear the AJter baa a tau aatend |
s:aifireaitidive ipeaag of Nailers +4 » ?niat jaading, saeac
ay they orepared the evecn- ms airs re Yirectiona . ar
ion chamber, He will de conveyed by alanaly. Just Before
hanged iriday for murder he trag ia sprung, ne ngsley. “will
last vasuary of Polleeman ba siven uw chance to aay gome-
sam iresendt, of Asilaied. ‘ahi.
ruards tested the guilows. A, The enutions neas th
aw rope with a hangman's pe00s@: fingers, of his closed hand, a tra:
ua mude ready. The black cap. orens, he ope tighcens, and
2nd straps to be used in Ore-. within a few nunnles _ pur alelans
2on’s “goth hanging, were brought: will pronounce the victim dead.
out, , om |
The drab death chamber is the ta |
scarcely larger than an ordinary | WILL i 4 TLE.
sechoolroom, There are chairs for : a wg ,
anaus 45. witnesses, Entry is HANG?
rom a single door. The scaffold,
siatform is at the left and cen-
ter as one enters. A jeft face,
and a right faee, and the vietim
stands ready to peer the fatal.
13 steps.
Leg and arm bands are at-
tached, the noose slipped over. the}
victim’s head, and deathhood
fastened. A alit in the hood over
ne left ear allows the rope en-|
“it Kingsley is too weak to
tna’ a board—eqatpped-
gtraps awaits ita Joh of reinforce-
ment.
“On a bench behind a partition
tury "he dcomed!
eo ee ene
Pe
Sn ¢ Taet from
Pas SS iT. w wa 148
with}
“=
“Will Kingsley hang?”
Dozens of times today this |
question has been asked 4s
the. day for the execution of
the killer of Sam Prescott
draws near. -
~....._Kinguley appealed _ to. Gov.
Meler for executive clemoney
7 owasking that the death sen-
-- tenes - be- commuated— ae
imprisonment,
Gor, Meter iadleated ie -
would send his secretary,
Miss Beatrice Walton, to in- |
terview Kingsley and would |
hear ‘er reesmmendations.
t
* Ser
' matter, The. kiltéer™ 18° Benen.
to” hang: Friday- morning of this,
week. - Preparations — sre. . being”
made for his execution
} The uncertaintt has resulted |
in mahy ramOrs and much bet. |
{ting - “a
} Locany, with the sentiment in;
favor of the’ killer's execution, :
} there fg a fear thet Kingsley's
‘supposed reformation might play’
& Part in the drama and result
in- executive clemency, Others
point out thet mercy for Kings.
ley, in view of the cold bleeded
manner in which he committed
| the murder for which he WE
sentenced to heng, would mean.
4he-end of cenitel bunishment in
~Greron--lt-ig-alac- Pointed ourthes |
Punishment POls tire eigvere of the
Portlené deputy sheriff recently,
ww woe,
“nd the two YOURE men whl re-
kee < * get : 23s . Viigs
eentty YOunraGec ¢E BLLLE MiaeCe
cer: we pe . > Setar - rer?
OLsieer, WOUIE pro Mabiy he. iicht-
ened br nardon ef the Presegi!
Utiless GOr, Re Siler indices ce:
whet his intettions mane h ‘
fare 4 me, there will be fer
f¢ a ES Lora chit thie Oxecut uF
May be qth
POCE ELIOK, AOGUIME, iy rife,
The gerigus illness of the cove
ernor it painted if Be enother
T@GEOR why leniency might be
UN aS itety RANT al
scheduled, .
After reviewing the case,
Gov. Meier declared he had:
“No alternative bas to
support the verdict of jury -
ui judgment of the coure;
“NO new avidence hag
Deen presented which was.
| Ot available when the jary +
_ recommended hanging ant
the judge imposed the pres-
nat sentence’, the governer
snid,
“E'do not ‘ind a 3ingla exztena
'uUaling cireumstanee. Aingsley’s
revord nriov to the homicide wag
one of reseated parole violationg
aud numerons erimes of aver-in.
creasing serfously, eulminatiag ig
tha. cald-bloodad—murdar ot -—-
Irave, young offieer who ate
2
cy ine 3rigoner ‘2
Nai eAeneas
Fae Ctr eT,
'
“Wai are 7ared a2 the 3Tres-
“nh Ome with a ware od lasw-
es4ness. Wao are asking
SRA IROGAT and GevyoL_ad offf- ~~ 7}
‘ers fo rigk their ves daily .
iw an effort to protect the
lives and proserty of one cit.
Ons, These officers, In’ turn
are entitled to grotection in
the performance of their
idludies,
“As governor of the State of
Oregon I a m charged with the
execution. of laws. In thig casa...
{ have found ne valid reason,
either. in law or —in. justica,.-for .--
averting the penalty which hag.
been imposed for a helnoug
crime —-a penalty which standa
On our statutes by the decisfra ~]
vote of the people of Oregon.”
By this statement the last hope
of Kingsley to escape the Zale -
ioWg as penalty for the cold=
blooded shdoting of Sam Prescoté,
Ashland city police officer ):
January .24 of thig-year. ~°~—-~—
Dozens of calls wera received
at The Daily Tidings office. yese. .-
terday and today for informatiog !
relative to the action of the gave |
ernor ‘in the Kingsley case, Th@ ~ |
soneral sentiment was. of courage: --
re
tab UG Presentdu ia Bis refusal to|
ta {nterfara in the case, werai
vi‘ Heard locally Tn in nee eg
)-
Te f. Sam Preseott was xiMed on
a {January , 24 whan hea stopped
va i Kingsley. tO. ingquire..as.-to..the
oe ewnership of the car Kingsley!
“| was driving, [t was a stolen car. |
i
, Kingsley shot and xiNled Officer.
3
| Prescott then fled south. In less.
‘Tenan aa” hour aad 2° Nal’ ha was’
On February 2 ha:
3 al % > lm ©
: ¥23 indited by whe
>
-
ai
an cuted, r
a
zt ;
arraigned
et # e
; ANd On Faoaruary
;named to jetena him. His trial!
, started Fepruary 1, with BL: a
oi xeily and T. J. Saright volun-!
~“ftartly affiliating themselves with,
_ ithe defense The trial ended and]
“Time casa” went to the jury at! —
‘ 4:25 February 7. Kingsley of-!
pseeed Only Bis past career of
ms
e
ezime. andi tha plea. that he “nays
er had a chan nce’ to explain the
3 | murder At 7 o'clock the same.
javening the Jury returned a ver.
dict of guilty without recommen-
me dation -of- “merey————
at Seen, ee
ly King gsloy was sentenced to
a8 nang ‘April 3, but fiva dayy be-
3 |fpre the date set for the axe-
jg#¢cution a certificate of © probable
1a@{| CBSE Of error was filed with! the
1g| Supreme court. Then followed de-
raj lay. during which time Kingsley)
rs} ¥88 held in the county jail. A |
iq ttle more than a month ago
i he was returned to Salam, hig
_ appeal to the governor for cle-
z,; Mency being hig laat effort to es-:
d cape the gallows —
8 a Mn i te wg
i
i.
2,
Former Sheriff Gellatly
(above) revisits house
where crime was committed
made the grim discovery.
Burnett walked out on the
dam and stared down iat the
motionless object lying in the
shallow water of the pond, It
was the body of a woman, fully
clothed. She lay face downward
on the sandy bottom, head up-
stream, arms, apparently
doubled under her.
™ A FEW feet from the corpse
was a length of small rope.
Evidently it had been thrown
into the water with the body,
since it was not yet covered with sand.
He pave the order, and THenkle and
John Franklin waded in and brought
the body to the shore. A third man
recovered the rope, which had a slip-
knot at one end.
Burnett made a cursory examination
of the slain woman’s body. Small and
well formed, she had been extremely
attractive for a woman of her age. Ex-
cept for slight abrasions on the back of
the neck and under the ear lobes, Bur-
nett could find no wound of any kind;
but these abrasions, together with dark
bruises on the throat, made the cause of
death apparent.
36
so lec
Sag
ole: aR
¢
<
f
Deputy Prosecutor William S. Mc-
Fadden, one of the leading in-
vestigators in the Griffith case
“Strangled!” Burnett muttered.
“Hanged with that rope until she chok ed
to death!”
He was deeply affected by the brutal
crime, yet his emotions were mild com-
pared with the sorrow and rage of the
friends and neighbors of the victim.
Eliza Griffith had been highly regarcled
throughout the community of Philo-
math. An active church worker, she had
devoted much of her time to charitable
deeds, and it seemed incredible that a
woman so kind and gentle should meet
such a frightful death.
There was talk of lynching the killer
with the same rope he had used to hang
The Benton County Court-
house in which the mystery
reached its tragic climax
the widow; and Burnett, fear-
ing that hasty suspicion might
fall upon some innocent person,
sternly rebuked the men. After
silencing their muttered
threats, he secured their
promises of full cooperation
with the officers, who would do
their utmost to bring the mur-
derer to justice.
The Coroner was summoned
by telephone. He arrived a
short while later at the victim’s
house, where he examined the
body and gave the opinion that
death had been caused by strangulation.
An autopsy would provide more specific
information.
Hoping for a quick solution of the
mystery, Burnett spent the remainder
of the day questioning the neighbors of
the slain widow. A deputy sheriff from
Philomath, who knew the people inti-
mately, aided him in the interviews.
@ FROM NANCY FRANKLIN, the
young woman who had spread the
alarm, the officers learned that Mrs.
Griffith had been visiting with her on
the previous afternoon.
“We were talking over a plan to raise
TRUE DETECTIVE
money [o
plained. }
weeping, §
grief-fil
very W'
all alon
taken ill «
called he:
ning, she
better. |
in the n
her on t!
this mor!
“And
there?” X
“Yes.
said she
posed sh
the pho!
took tin
“Wha’
talked °
Burnett
@ NAN
me!
have |
I read
to bed
“The
at eif!
nett
how «
phone.
“No,
“Dic
when >
“No.
she'd !
like h:
Besid
and s!
off th:
Bu
doubt
think
er
suc:
The
outris
The
conti:
this }
of a
grie.
wide
dere:
Nan
abou
F:
visit’
who
Grit
thes
den‘
wid
was
cou
E
had
son
rat!
fide
sel)
val,
i
»|
4
*
:
3
>
2
&
-
know why. But it may have been because
the homestead had meant so much to her.
She only decided to sell it at the very last
minute.”
Gellatly questioned all of the widow’s
friends in Philomath, but not one had heard
of her selling the house, although it had
been generally understood that she had
planned to move to Corvallis eventually.
So far as he could find out only a very
few persons had been aware of the sale, and
except for Mrs. Calvery, all these had some
connection with the negotiations. Not one
of them could be suspected of the murder.
The murdered widow was laid to rest in
the Philomath cemetery, and Gellatly sought
out the bereaved relatives, four married
daughters and a bachelor son, in an effort to
uncover a possible’ suspect. None could
throw any light on the mystery.
In the days that followed, the sheriff
investigated a- number of tips, all of which
proved to be worthless, and after that the
investigation came to a standstill. There
were no further clues, and not a single sus-
pect.
A month passed and then the Rev. Rose,
a clergyman living in King’s Valley, some
miles from Philomath, came to the sheriff
with the name of a man whom he believed
to be the murderer. .
“It’s Dr. North,” he said. “He stayed
at my house recently—he’s a traveling dentist,
you know—and I overheard him talking to
himself during the night. Perhaps he was
praying, I’m not sure. But he was greatly
agitated.” ,
“What did he say?” Gellatly demanded.
“Something about a murder. He repeated
several times, “Why did I kill her? Oh, why
did I kill her?’ And.that isn’t all. We had
talked about the terrible crime, and he had
acted very strange, I thought, as if he knew
something and wanted to. unburden himself
to me.”
At first the sheriff was inclined to minimize
the value of this tip, but he investigated the
traveling dentist and found that others besides
the preacher had been disturbed by the man’s-
behavior. As a result Dr. Edward N. North
was arrested on suspicion of murder and
held in the county jail.
This was on Wednesday, July 19. Then
on the following day Richard: Brumfield, a
local resident who was suspected of being
North’s accomplice, was taken into custody.
The charges against North were heard in
the justice court on July 21. There were
several witnesses for the prosecution, but the
case hinged upon the testimony of Rev. Rose,
whose word naturally carried more than ordi-
nary weight.
McFadden asked him a number of ques-
tions. The preacher was ill at ease and
seemed reluctant to repeat under oath the
statements he had made to Sheriff Gellatly.
Finally McFadden asked him pointblank,
“Did you hear the defendant say, ‘Why did
I kill her?’ or words to that effect?”
Rose fidgeted uncomfortably. “I thought
I did,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to swear
to it.”
Attorney M. O. Wolkins, representing the
accused dentist, immediately demanded that
the case be dismissed. McFadden objected,
and Judge W. G. Lane continued the hearing.
But it was useless. The preacher con-
tradicted himself and practically testified in
behalf of the defense.
DE. NORTH WAS released, as was Rich-
ard Brumfield. The worst that had been
revealed against the dentist was his delight
in telling “whoppers,” as one of the news-
papers later expressed it.
Apparently Dr. North had been playing a
rather ghastly practical joke on the preacher
and others in the region, in whose homes he
had hinted at some deep, dark secret relating
to the murder. Brumfield, according to these
tales, had shared in the mystery.
Boe Aas phat rier hegre en
she seemed rather nervous lately. I don’t |
Mr. lols Anzatone, hea
2 gives low-down on $
He'll never get by: Tousled, unkempt
hair certainly doesn’t belong in the
Stork Club. Watch the red rope go
up on him! If only he'd take my. tip
and use Kreml Pair Tonic—it keeps
stubborn hair neatly in place all day
long—looking so trim and handsome.
RED HOT TIP!
rk Club barber shop in New York City,
d men’ of the Sto nal by famous red rope. w a
ome guests ba
Rope strangles gigolo: He plastered
his hair down with grease and-found
himself socially taboo. Pasted down
hair stamped him as a gigolo. Kreml
keeps hair looking so neat and well
groomed yet never leaves it looking
or feeling oily and greasy.
No admittance: How uncouth he
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Keeps Hair Better-Groomed Without Looking Greasy—
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a
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aaimentinmnatiinitaniedin
~ North packed his belongings and went to
eae Digs on sees atc
er : : 2 >s
ate
Portland, where he practiced his professio
for a time.
Sheriff Gellatly was more than a little
chagrined, and by no means convinced of the
dentist’s innocence. He employed a private
detective in Portland to investigate the sus-
The sleuth sent him regular
pect further.
Then, in the
reports on North’s activities.
middle of January, more than seven months.
after the murder, North disappeared!
Gellatly went to Portland and brought back
the dentist’s effects, among which was a
bloodstained coat. He sent out notices to
the police throughout the Western states,
asking that North be apprehended for ques-
tioning.
Nothing came of this, and the months
passed without any new development.
‘Realizing that the brutal slaying was in
danger of remaining unsolved, the authorities
_ of Benton County offered a reward of $1,000
for information leading to the discovery and
conviction of the murderer. And so wide-
spread was the desire to see the killer brought
to justice that the state of Oregon posted
an offer of the same amount.
This combined reward of $2,000 attracted
the attention of W. J. Mitchell, one of Port-
land's ace homicide investigators. He spent
several days in Corvallis, conferring with the
local officials and questioning the various
witnesses. ‘
Finally he returned to Portland to study
the evidence he had gathered. First on his
list of possible suspects was Dr. North, whose
whereabouts remained a mystery.
It remained for Burnett, the former sheriff,
to uncover a new and totally unexpected lead.
The district attorney had thoroughly inves-
.tigated the charges against North, and he
did not share Gellatly’s conviction that he
was guilty; therefore, he appointed Burnett
as his special investigator and asked him to
re-examine the entire casé.
One day in March, having failed in all
other directions, Burnett went to the bank
and began a search of its records. It was
painstaking work, but finally he had a list
of depositors’ names. He then took it to
Clarke. :
“This is far from complete,” he explained,
“but it shows us that several persons were in
the bank on the first day of June—the date
on which Mrs. Griffith sold her home.”
. “All right,” the prosecutor said. “What’s
your idea?” '
“Well, so far as I’m concerned, everyone
who entered the bank while the deal was
being completed is a possible suspect, but
I’m going to investigate the Philomath de-
positors first. If the widow was killed for
her money, it was done by someone who
knew that she lived alone and who sus-
pected that she kept money in the house.”
“Tt’s worth a try,” Clarke agreed. “Let
me know what you find out.”
During the investigation that followed, all
the new suspects were quickly eliminated ex-
cept one man. This was Charles T. Hum-
phrey. £
The Humphrey brothers lived on Rock
Creek, not far from the Griffith homestead.
They had led parties in the search for her
body. At the time of the original investiga-
tion they had answered all questions willingly
and had explained that they had gone to bed
early on the night of the murder.
Inasmuch as they were generally regarded
as honest, hard-working men, their alibi had
been accepted. There had been no more
reason to suspect either of them than to
doubt the alibis of many decent folk in the
community. At no time had any of their
neighbors breathed a word of suspicion
against the Humphreys.
For that matter Burnett might have been
inclined to clear Charles Humphrey along
with the others who had visited the bank on
June 1, if he were available for questioning
and could furnish straightforward answers.
But the brothers had left their cabin sev-
‘ Hk - hE wast ee si Ke noe ey
eral weeks before and no one knew where
they had gone.. The bank records showed
that Charles had recently closed hts account,
which indicated that he did not- intend to re-_
turn. :
This was no indication of guilt. Almost ten
months had passed since the murder, and
both had remained in the locality until now.
Furthermore, good jobs were scarce, and it
was only natural that they should seek work
elsewhere.
However, it was recalled that they had not
bothered to attend the funeral of the slain
woman, although she had been their neighbor.
In fact, their axes had rung out above the
burial service, as they labored in the woods
-near the cemetery.
SIGHT AS THE suspicion was, Burnett
decided to launch a search for the broth-
ers. He communicated with the Portland
detective, Mitchell, who took the next train
to Corvallis.
“We ought to be able to locate them,”
Mitchell announced. “I’ll have a search made
among all the logging camps in this part of
. the state.”
Two weeks passed without result. Then on
March 13 Mitchell telephoned the district
attorney that he had just located George
Humphrey in a logging camp in Washington
County. Clarke and Burnett hastened to
join him in Hillsboro, a town near Portland.
THE WIEDENHOFT CASE
In the October, 1945, issue of INSIDE
DETECTIVE there appeared a story dealing
with the holdup-murder of Mr. Gus Wieden-
hoft, highly respected Indianapolis florist.
Mrs, Carrie Wiedenhoft, widow of the vic-
tim, has since informed us that two points in
the story were erroneous: In the first place,
she assures us that she and her husband did
_ not keep any hoards of money on their prem-
ises; and, secondly, her husband did not make
it a practice to sell flowers to wedding parties
at all hours of the night.
INSIDE DETECTIVE is glad to set forth Mrs.
Wiedenhoft's objections to these statements in:
the story. —The Editor
George Humphrey seemed astonished and
a little frightened at being taken into cus-
tody for questioning. A powerfully built
man with docile eyes and a shaggy mustache,
he told virtually the same story that he had
furnished when Burnett questioned him at
the time of the initial investigation.
“Where’s Charlie?” Burnett asked.
“I don’t know. We separated to Took for.
jobs.” j ;
‘Did you go to the bank with him the
day before the widow was killed?” Clarke
demanded.
“I don’t remember anything about it.”
“Isn’t that how you and Charlie found out
about the cash Mrs. Griffith was getting for
her property?” ;
The suspect stared at him in evident con-
fusion.
“You might as well admit it,” Burnett
shot at him. “We know Charlie was at the
bank, and we know that the widow was
murdered for her money.”
“But I tell you I didn’t go near the bank!”
Humphrey protested. “It was Charlie—he
saw everything.”
“IT thought you didn’t remember anything
about it,” Clarke said. The suspect’s face
showed his consternation.
However, he did not break, and was taken
to Corvallis. When he was being held in
jail his brother was arrested at another log-
ging camp by the sheriff of Washington
County. The second prisoner was taken to
Corvallis, but was not permitted to talk to
his brother.
still protested his innocence, and it begs
- somebody that?”
‘man—a man who lived with his brother, on
- causing the abrasions the investigators. lat
knowledge, the officers concentrated on_
Dozens of questions were hurled at him, bu
although he showed signs of weakening, Th
look as if both men would have to
leased for lack of evidence. s
Then Burnett tried a ruse.
“George,” he said, “I know you’re wonder=,
ing what we’ve got on you. You must think
it strange that we’ve suddenly arrested you™
and Charlie, after so much time has elapsed#
Well, you see, George, Eliza Griffith told:
one of her friends about a certain man who"
was filling her life with terror.” "Seay
“She told :
Humphrey looked _ startled.
“Yes, she did. In fact, she confessed that
this was the reason she had decided to sell @
her home and move to town—because of that?
Rock Creek.” : ees
“Tt wasn’t me!” Humphrey cried. “It was %
Charlie—he was always watching her.
know it was him!” ms
Charles Humphrey was questioned, but he >
was tougher and more stubborn than his |
brother, and they got nothing out of him. @
But the officers were now convinced ®
one or both of the brothers were guilty, and @
they gave George Humphrey little rest during “3
the hours that followed. At length he 7a
cracked. ee
“I want to get it over with,” he said. “I
lied about my brother. It was me the &
widow was scared of. I’m the one that %
killed her too, and I deserve to die.” oe
The court reporter was summoned and 4
took down his complete statement, after ;
which he signed it before witnesses. - . ~
According to George’s confession, Charles
told him that Mrs. Griffith sold her property, 3
and they had decided to break into her house @
and force her to reveal the hiding place of @
her money. nal
After getting the halter rope in the shed,
they burst in through the front door. Mrs. 7
Griffith was combing her hair. She screamed =
and ran to the kitchen, where she snatched up
But we got just $12. a
we'd have to kill her, because she would tell ©
the officers what we'd done. I choked her =
until she was dead. We carried her body =
down to the mill pond. We knew the water
wasn’t deep, but we figured we could kos
up an alibi by the time she was found.” = &
In carrying the corpse, George held the feet =
while Charles supported the head by means @
of the halter rope around the neck, thus
discovered.
Confronted with his brother's statement,’
Charles Humphrey signed a similar confes
sion. . eee
Both repudiated these admissions in court. =
and pleaded not guilty. But on May 1, 1912 7
—one day less than 11 months after the %
slaying—they were found guilty of murder ®
in the first degree and were sentenced to ri
death. ie
Shortly after the trial Dr. Edward North-
returned to Corvallis and claimed his belong-=
ings from Sheriff Gellatly. He had gone to]
New Mexico, and was surprised to learn that
the authorities had been seeking him. The,
bloodstain on his coat had resulted from @
tooth extraction, he explainéd. He was com=,
pletely cleared of any suspicion of guilt. —
On March 22, 1913, George and Char
Humphrey were hanged at the Oregon staté
penitentiary at Salem in payment for thet
brutal crime. ae Fd ae
i ae AA De Sipe ES eS alee eee RM AA 5S Sa NR TIN) MR NI ect MLR Me OU Ss AR Naso Semple ess
ENIGMA OF
FRIGHTEAED.
This attractive woman
ANCY FRANKLIN was humming
N a little tune on that pleasant
early June morning as_ she
emerged from the woods with her arms
filled with wild flowers. Blinking in the
bright sunlight that flooded the clearing, |
she went to the small two-story house
and knocked on the door.
A smile came to her lips, for she
anticipated the cry of delight with
which Eliza Griffith would accept the
bouquet. Her neighbor, a widow, was
past fifty; but she was an active, ir-
repressibly delightful little creature,
like the birds that fluttered about her
vine-covered house.
“Hello there!” Nancy called cheer-
fully, pushing the door open when her
knock was not answered. “Are you up-
stairs, Eliza?”
The silence of the small house struck
her as strangely ominous. Fora moment,
even the twittering of the birds outside
had ceased. The young woman entered
the living-room, somewhat alarmed as
she recalled that Mrs. Griffith had men-
tioned yesterday that she was feeling
slightly ill. Perhaps the illness had
proved serious.
But that thought was driven from her
mind, an instant later, by the sight of
an overturned chair; and then, as her
eyes grew accustomed to the compara-
tive darkness inside the house, she
grasped the details of the scene.
The room was in wild disorder. Fur-
niture was upset; a large flower pot had
been smashed; the drawers 6f a dresser
had been ransacked and the contents
strewn upon the floor.
Nancy Franklin stood motionless, eyes
wide. She dared not climb those stairs
to the bedroom, for fear of what she
might find there.
Suddenly turning, she stumbled from
the house and somehow made her way
back through the woods to the home of
J. §. Henkle. When Mrs. Henkle met
her at the door, she all but collapsed in
the woman’s arms.
“Oh, Susan!” she gasped out. ‘Call
your husband! Something terrible has
happened to Eliza Griffith!”
* * *
When the news was telephoned to
Corvallis, Sheriff W. A. Gellatly was
many miles from his office, in the midst
of an exciting manhunt. Some weeks
before, a convicted robber had escaped
from the Oregon state prison at Salem.
Eventually trailed to Benton County,
he had been seen near an abandoned
cabin; and having located his hiding
place, the Sheriff and his posse were at
the moment closing in on the fugitive.
Acting in Gellatly’s absence, M., P.
Burnett, the former Sheriff, hurried to
34
(LU e MALY
lived alone and wanted
only to enjoy life with
her closest friends—but
some sinister terror
hung over her.
the Griffith homestead, near Philomath.
A group of grim-faced men greeted him
with the information that Eliza Griffith
was nowhere to be found, and that the
house showed signs of robbery, if not
actual violence.
Entering the house, Burnett quickly
became convinced that the widow had
met with foul play. Upstairs and down-
stairs, the place had been thoroughly
ransacked, and the condition of the
front room seemed to indicate that a
struggle had taken place there.
On the floor of the living-room, not far
from a couch, Burnett found a man’s
white handkerchief. The diagonal ends
had been twisted as if a knot had been
tied, and the middle of the handker-
chief was stained with blood.
Puzzling over this clue, Burnett got
down on his knees and peered under the
couch. Here he found a kitchen butcher
knife. There were no traces of blood on
the blade, and Burnett suspected that
it had been wrested from the woman as
she sought to defend herself, then
kicked out of reach under the couch.
The bloodstained handkerchief, how-
ever, mystified him. If it had been used
to bind a wound, why had it been dis-
carded? It might have worked loose and
fallen off, especially during a struggle;
but in that case, why were there no spots
of blood anywhere else in the room?
Examining the handkerchief closely,
Burnett drew a startling conclusion.
Mixed with the blood was a frothy sub-
stance that appeared to be saliva. Quite
obviously, then, the handkerchief had
been used as a gag—tied over the
woman’s mouth to cut off her screams.
CLbeu
Burnett went outside and told the
impatiently waiting men of his dis-
coveries.
“There’s no doubt about it now,” he
said, his face hard, “Mrs. Griffith was
not only robbed, but mistreated. A gag
itself, even a very tight one, could
hardly draw blood. We've vot to find
the poor woman, and I only hope she is
still alive.”
“We've already searched the woods
around here,” one of the men told him.
“Well, we’ll have to begin all over
again. Go over every inch of ground,
look in every clump of bushes, keep your
eyes open for freshly dug earth, About
four of you head down to the creek
yonder and search along both sides.”
Thus organized, the searching party
set out to comb the wooded area sur-
rounding the small house. The men aid-
ing Burnett were nearly all either
woodsmen or farmers, accustomed to
hunting deer and other game, and the
former Sheriff knew from experience
that their eyes could be trusted.
Nevertheless, several hours went by
without any discovery. Then a man
came running up to Burnett with the
electrifying news that the body of the
missing woman had been found.
“Where?” cried Burnett, his calmness
deserting him.
“In the mill-pond above Henkle’s dam
on Rock Creek,” panted the man.
Burnett hurried down a long slope to
the creek. Here, a quarter of a mile
from the Griffith house, was a dam, be-
low which was a mill race that fur-
nished power for the saw-mill owned by
J.S. Henkle. And Henkle, himself, had
PRUE DETECTIVE
THEF
:
man. Salem, Oregon. Friday, January 30, 1953
A SCARE: Ss nr aah ee ares are ene RR a
‘kxecution Concludes > MrT Nevthe Dalles tre eave ater he
é Titehfield slaying. me
; ee - The Dalles police advised thes
bad any : a . - * cere hip ding Varnee i fo ernie ing &
ce-Balfling Murder Caselam | Marks Korea. verity Kes or stein
eae 228 > ’
(Story also on Page 1.) ak arg | ‘ if » #1 ye i
of Albert (Bert) Karnes early today. concludes what Sa: x ral ( I On
of the most baffling murder cases to have occurred in
Nw thee toountes
Revalliie that rent records foun |
ae : ; ate Bk : re $55 F ‘ye y where
: hs Ry ROBERT TUCKMAN han thes: bitch eld. home, wh
of the bloody beaten body of elderly Mrs. Susan Litch- . eee Toop ; Parcel skininishes! Karnes and his wife had roomed
ocdshed of her home at 1333 Waller St. last June 7 ar
ares i ‘ ts Peiges teshiotp. for atime, bore. Karnes’ name,
e of the most intensive Salem police investigations in Roa es ae Pa brags thea So mins Koo bing val authorities > and witnesses
Pie aes aT, years: First glint of hope in z - ag fe ' 3 P tiie rent wont to The Dailes tr sre {f this
; the case came when a crime, hav- ions aks Alhed patrol clashed) with 30 omipnt be the same’ man >
A tl n ing “similar earmarks” ogrurced 4 5 rises S nog aest-of -Rorangpa in On-the night of June 17, tn the
C 0 jin The Dalles two days after the we Kugvrdites tichtinfters midnight face: of Voverahelming ce vidence
be Litchfield Slaying. $ ; Io : ee ; pote stomiated it killed hall-of the and testimony by person who said
€ me aes popseanciases ed ees ! es RY: they had seen him at the Litch-
Korea were: holding” Karnes for: entering eee : Avast defenders “on Tittle Nori! ficld home the night of the killing,
the home of Mrs. Ben Callaway a3 bg i Hey ee ef Yatiehon, alsa. In! RIbactuK ucdee ieteriet lal cba
there and injuring her with re-—e a ter tia Weet® drove. off-auraiding Chir contession to the crime. He told}
authorities he had entered the |
Litchfield home with intent of.
peated hammer blows. She vas io3s aes. be-! slatoon’ in 20. minutes,
ront hospitalized for several days +e) ; : Mieke Bae ee
| ay robbery and had hidden in the.
Eeyghth “Army: staff officer re- |
lowing the encounter.
r ‘ed actions. also* southwest of:
Recalling that rent records found KoSasong. onthe Central. Front |
8
w P , . 2 roodshed.
RT. TUCKMAN in the Litchfield home, where ie Tea file thee ha ct: Tyee
P : 7 ’ ; 2) Bate 4 s wre . : - a
Patrol skirmishes ! Karnes and his wife had roomed Bersted ae 3 hiethe’ Air War, 12 Japan-based arose fees and Meee vance
iy Friday night in} for a time, bore Karnes’ name, eee B-29 Superforts bombed ‘Kum and} mn ib \eedi ans i all leads he
s the 155-mile Ko-j local authorities and witnesses Ie Beer eag S.:.0o near the east coast!port of | ne followed any and a C
< Sy RRR cae SI t : his estranged wife,
at. went to The Dalles to see if this Pe | eee Wo san Thursday night ‘and<left heard to locate
rol clashed with 30; mipht be the same man. Ps oF vg fires burning in the two Red; His last hint of her whereabouts
est of Korangpo in! On the night of June 17, in the es a pee Se ply centers. Both were first-; had led him to Salem and the
ea es a } ! ;
ant after midnight) face of overwhelming evidence | Boe yee bone targets. Eitchiield. homes |
t killed half of the and testimony by Sarr who said li So ake: 3-26 hight bombers struck in the | Notwithstanding a hard - fought
z i | Re ee ~ Stet jarkness cas lea of innocence
.| they had seen him at the Litch- . i T)ursday night darkness at Red | case based on a plea o
ers. on Little Nori field home the night of the killing, See fo: BEES 6. opiy dines across> the peninsula. | by reason of insanity, a jury of
if Yonchon, also in Albert Karnes signed a 14-page i a oS Pijots reported they destroyed 354 eight men and four men returned
off a raiding Chi- confession to the crime. He told *: * tr oks, six locomotives and 29 box-!4 verdict of guilty with no reser-~
a staff offi ».| authorities he had entered the % | ae cats and damaged four locomo-| vation for leniency. The Nes an
ny ste 1 : : te § Se cae ’ JOXOHTS, ted with i |
At Seouthteut ph Litchfield home—with—intent_ of re Poe. pp at Tee i ne firing from} Soest pe Niele Ne?
Bos ; a | ae ign ths Arm: DAS Ein tes ice.
he Central Front Sate had hidden in the : Vee oo f..-d° positions pounded Red fort- | John William Stortz, Salem at-
Fas . a Karnes had heal wording oat 3 $25.58 4% ifee5 ons PHATSCAN sal manners _torney, had been appointed by the
ar, apan-based, ** ks Bee re eported. they. shot up 25 .bunkers, ¢ .- e
ee bad hens and| Mink farm near Astoria and said We ae : Epa te OSS ee RS ae 62 verde ee ree defend Karnes. : ‘ad
east coast port of} he followed any and all leads he i od oe ones aie ET RE { .This verdict by the pity mas s.
cat dy iG ASS a 3 > | PERO ae: tren 2S, ‘ ; +7 ; : re)
ay night and left | heard to locate his estranged wife. i Po BRE ake. Ages hed Heons wielding flame-| ardor, tot “Marion c nies in
ing in the two Red; His Jast hint of her whereabouts $ 2 Bee 4 theiwers and supported by tanks} ov) 43 years. The las viction
Both were first ad led him to Salem and the Sie a! ) TH orsday wiped out most cfa Red | vas a Salem plasterer killed,
rap. \_sitchfield home, : | liteon in pf hit-run reid on @ Chi-? eS AES
er Ss eh ix. the ate ow weve
we arr
RA MAT HCL.
"tn Alaska Indian named Kateat-cha -ias tried in the U. S, Circuit Court at Portland on Tuesday
on a charge of murdering two white men whom he hed been employed to take prospecting in his canoe,
The prisoner belongs to a tribe resdding about 150 miles north of Sitka. Eis color is said to be
much lighter than the Aborigines of this part of the country. the witnesses are a man and two
women belonging to the same tribe as the orisoner, Their testimony was interoreted by a y well
educated young man, a son of a former “ussian officer of Alaska, One of the witnesses testified
to seeing the bodies of the two rurdered men lying at the bottom in clear water, which he des-
cribed as being about as deeo as from the ceiling to the floor of the court room, The jury after
being out only a short time returned a verdict of guilty as charged in the indictment,"
WALLA WALLA SLATESMAN, Walla “alla, Wash., March 11, 1882
"Kaeta-ta was sentenced to be hanged an Portland on March 3lst, “hen asked if he had anything
to say, he replied that he wanted to ce hanged as soon as possible,"
WABRLA STATESMAN, Walla “alla, jash., March XXjxk@#zX 18, 1882
KARNES, Albert, white, hanged Oregon (Marion Co.) on 1-30-1953,
Dreapw S tates maw Vania 4 a? 19353
i -
Susan Litchfield’s Slayer Pays
\ ith Life: Gas Channher Claims
Axe- -Wielding Albert Karnes ==
| )
Tae ie By JAMES’ B. MILLER
;, ’ Staff Writer, The Statesman “
nies j Death in the State Penitentiary’s lethal gas chamber early this
| morning ended the life of 24-year-old Albert William (Bert) Karnes,
convicted axe-slayer of 81-year-old Mrs. Susan Litchfield of Salem.
The frail ex-farm laborer and former inmate of the State Reform-
atory at Monroe, Wash., stepped into the gas chamber unassisted at i
+ 12:10 a..m. He was accompanied by the Rev. William McClory, prison D /
pedis.
Catholic Chaplain, into “whose faith he had been baptized only
Thursday.
The Rev. McClory remained with Karnes, entreating him to join’
\ A Sg IPR a san bh him in prayer while. guards strap- |
ped the voung man into the Steel |
chair, and the prison doctor ad-}
e 1c es justed the automatic cardiograph |
Cadel, ESP Hig Me | and ‘stethoscope which could be}
read from outside the chamber. | a
Karnes wore the usual blug den-
have refrained from) offering j im prison garm. Given his choice, |
{ este on the recent troubles{ ivision he decided to wear a black mask |
in ithe> Marion , County Welfare! over his eyes. H
ddpartment. pending decision” of | Before he was masked, Karnes |
the Feguesis of Marion ~ Bowen, ! e held his eyes shut much of the ;
edmutistrater, and. Naomi Phelps, | time, opening them in a curio Us |
sapervison for a hearing=by. the} | O e glance two or three times.
cites yice éommission On» or= | Calm Last Moments f
ees erring them to” other} y He remained calm until the end. |
within athe system. | By HECTOR L; FOX He carried into the death chamber
sion, taking refuge est Associated Press Staff Writer a heavy silver crucifix, clutched Tels
1 Rit The House highways committee in his right hand, and Wore TOS* iy peauit ef
ike hte public welfare admin-4 yoted Thursday to introduce the’ ary beads about his rieck. He made “ Heya
takes refuge behind the! bill calling for creation of a state’no ACER aie era rai
«wall phrose “for the good Of department of motor vehicles, but The peg aa A ‘by eric RAS
the Serue The county welfare) Jegislators doubted the plan would, leased inta a Sunde bs
j ; bath at 1217 am. and
- a4 va , vf ‘: fe : ey we 2
Commisscn fas issucd no. public} get far this ‘session because of deadly pas began’ risitia
q jis ties, aenied the request.
S ec. ’ i
placerhent.» The. result: as that the | Gov. Paul L. Patterson’s support appenred tobe holding bh
public «hich pays the bills and} of a proposed ‘state’department of THe he tole succeision :
those who wre dependent on this’ revenue instead, : pasps as the gas began:t a ye i
for services remain com-" "The governor's legislative PLO ec tlect oushin i
tetely the durk as to the rea-! gram included the ‘‘little Hoover Karnes was pronounced dead at ny /
i te behind the order for these committee's recommendation for. 12:40 a.m by the prison ‘physician, .)
transfers which were Issued “at{ creation of a department of reves 1). pir stub ena
time as orders for the} nue, which would absorb Secre-. pity Visited
thi samern
iwveres sot two other staff mem-{ tary of State Earl Newbry’s busy — 4),,, Plate pfterr oan H Doc ey . +s:
bi rs. ; i motor vehicle division. inert Karnes eet of i ae t ‘ thet ted BASHIN
Fnough is known. however to}>< The projected state ‘pean ort ail ly spent Datel Ol the jay . : h er Arhed a
t} ed effect.” There ‘was friction? 6f motor vehicles would parhe They Jef the peritestiary at 4 proved te
+ tionally é
by the staff, serious Charges accomplish this, and ad i Aik ik: pm j {aries of
ayainst the two named above were; take in the moter tra isport diy is In his. fast. hours Thursday Thareday >
; 1 ties imis- ‘ ai + . L “
ted. smong them some that) fon of the publle utilities con m night, the ce Navin whe ate Sedona gh
clreulated, ¢ - of- | sia: ihis: specially’ ordered dinner of bitin dol
would indicate malfeasance ino sion
~! Asks Interim Study i baked rapbit, matched potatoes, industries
Lites DH ens OPE Piliee Nipatertth a the xovernor ‘believes the prolcreamed corn, coffee, apple ple — Robert T
atop ead het th gh fy wing staff posed department of revenue and ice cream. Jersey tex:
ig bokeh aah week # bum-j should be yiven careful study 31>) Karnes waived the reading of mous endo:
Coe N eS ie oe AL the eon | tHe next biehnfum by>an interim) jna-ottictal ‘execution warrant bY job
4 mas bemne’ ma ated the mem- .comsniltee +Prison; Superintendent. George © Yoyala F
ag ent A ftatt : iiature per- | Meanwhile, ancther of the gov-) Alexander, He refused ane Alar ereveds f
a fing ‘ sist Heil iittevences and Pernors FECOTBDEDE AY OO simpli-} terviewed. by reporters. He sper
i
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Cot Wee
f or. three times, 7 ®
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fis HEC TARY fiek t Big Hat aby:
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Cee pai eY E ; ech Ty ®. 9
a) t t Les CNP Sy ary? fipee ty
Peat Ne AS Bt Le PARLOR HK IR tts T albott A\ if} Neeantiey
Ata . a on Bett iat} TS) £8 Sid iy t
‘ ; prey PNIEET V5 protested stead at ~ bitse ore
FSM Gah oat us wena Can ate (i elec ies
5 ? . ASSERTS 4 t 3 ; RETA age a { s top Sb 4 a ATT
Of Revi We kiat cae ae oe Camtiv Visited : F hit ine
Ketel a tes f one Thursday, | tu pmemd wis “obta
y : { ( ba 4 vas spe VUPIRe Mis Ob
une he Karnes’ mother? , Hout ather had! WASHINGTON Saad The Senate aionted the nulti
ri Srent most of the daywith him; Armed “Services.Cornmitice «ate pry ae, Machine
Gf They iett the penit apiitary at 4°30 “proved two SeSeamen AS SECTOs\ hich y aswrence
ape a 4) tamies of the Army and Air Force peitive BIE presi:
Ape: Sey In his Jast’ hours Thursday Thursday after. they “agreed Under vtactirecometo!
4 Irterim Stud say e 4 ‘
y Eete a thre baked “rapiity “mached potatoes, - industries.
the ‘offictal -execution. warrant by job. \
his Jast- hours quietly in his: cell4-york” industrialist.
sede yWith the chaplain.
BEE Te Witnessed by Twelve Anderson Okehed
Rouse r
week. Speed on the! in this world: mavbe J'll find it in Navy. Anderson's financial
ble by another." rests were not considered to be
° i . * . . 4
done “The Karneés execution was wit-; conflict with his naval- duties.
ace
a
reporters and three Salm city po- ators that he would sell his 1
ace income tax lice officers, plus 11. men-of the milhon dollar interest’ in» J.
a1 fund)in- prison. staff.
; weeks axo, 75 witnesses had been | sisted on it.
ppresent. The size of that- crowd] Discourage Service
extended to Of Control a reprimand. te prison !
c
s
Fi, pression new pis in the F } S |
eluted Orezon revieed sta OULtN Saiem
ie Age the prospect of- a “
Bet eee ee nifant.Wies
Pitroduced al BHP ta res 2 :
Posh Ue PRU Ean hw eta the z » . selves of all financial interests
Abe a sac sy i Ht se Of I heumonta Ponipenias doing business with
St
fiechen tl itation fee tncir armed. services.
; pany,
| positi on that neither would-be e¢
Constance « Louise. Winters, 28- Se
RCCED: fe wlso. Ditlodes” ap- day-old daughter of Mr.cand: Mrs.
vits for UL So penator, , James Winters, 682 N. Liberty St. call As
eeted by. Senate ‘ Pdied Wednesday as a-. result ,OnSO I( ation
berper’s il’ ta permit” de- pneumonia, Marion County Deputy |
oranda tes for=povernunsto? Gy rune Y Chik rles’.C: Edwards ars
Mth senate forfour vedrs was ported Thursday Me E |
#4 HY the Senate, bya vote Hers was the fourth’ Infant easur € yet
a) ae death within a week—all’ ascribed |
Be" Hotice passe one Dill and: 4), pneumonia which ‘struck. sud- |
Aa ra t ‘ N Rervic
Sehite, two Thursday, The! denly, Marion County's health of-| Statesman News Service
rr while’ the senate. Indorse- ough to beconsidened epidemic, other arrangements for increas:
rete SS hire -fighting av tivities led ic loseély. i
**HOVG some Useless language’ Body of the Winters infant was
+ the 3 re ‘
ee iite law code. ont to tha nit aes orb
ve yey
ric?
Dactdant 5
™
tight, the condemned man ~ate pressure to dispose of their multi-
specialty ordered. dinner ‘of billion “dollar. holdings in- defen
Creamed “corn, -cotfve, “apple pie. Robert To. Be Stevens, 53. 4’ New (KPTYV. in -Portlan
and ice eream F Jersey textile man, won a unani- erating on one ki!
Karnes. waived) the reading. of mous® endorsement for the Army the projectett stat
Prison Stip erintendent George |” Harold E. Talbott, 64,. was aD-! equipment now be:
Alexanc der. He ref used to be in-) proved for, the -post of secretary] aieoeien eo Hececea-
terviewed by reporters. He spent ofthe Air Force, He is a. New ly serve the valley
: . Is 4.2 mi} ;
é. Ohiadrie Sale n./report- In an interview “Karnes had; The committee also recommend- Hills 4.8 miles nort!
vse fax gommiftee ex- granted to The Statesman earlier /@d Senate confirmation of Robert “thier. Law }
‘heotmain fax pros in the weck, he had said: “I never B- Anderson, 42, a Texas rancher Wi!hin a few week
dg.t fs ‘ace . ‘and oil man, as secretary of the
ig the ses- did have much peace or happiness | é waht inter- | t0 be chosen
griing “ash ; eR ig wl . ’ i miles. and would
tax “committee, “nessed “by. 12 citizens, including Stevens reluctantly told the sen-! e :
em Stevens & Co., Inc., a family tex-|it Was anticipated
ng them to ~At the last « execution ‘three, tile enterprise, if the senators in-} EPTYV
compensation had-drawnsfrom the’ State Board! pit he said if such a sacrifice ceive Channel 24 +
/ were necessary ‘to win Senate con- change. Others wil!
the Talbott Corporation, which he ment generally in
described as a family holding com- culture and comme:
The committee stood firm on its Lawrence Harvey,
i firmed unless they divested them- Salem “within «¢
the civic leaders tn
pe eeislation codifies services yier, Dr. W, J. Stone, said the; CLEAR LAKE - To consolldate “not too DEAD se
he state crime detection labor- deaths were not widespread en-, three school districts or to make: Portland resident
le ps ny ¢ 8
Wid facilitate the board pf that the situation, 1s being stud: ea Polen vby Woters: seeclekt here Thu nist
Lake, Buena Vista and Mission :
Pees ee?
difticu ay in-its.acc,
Bréeriner -said
se 4
transrnitter .. wia s
ath
12. kilowatts (the
a
} -The transmissice:
;on’ a’ 1,000-foot ‘ri
Work on the stat
studio and. operatic
in Estimated norms
Station, for good -r:
1, land and Eugene, !
p,ices-in the immedia
‘naes pointed tow
would suff:
TV sets now in op
; area already are te
uf one or tore pérsoris, authorities and suggestion that’ the \firmation it would discourage other: Brenner said the
till inttedieed: Thursday Rumber of. witnesses be limited.) successful businessmen from en-} be. interested in bi
p Brady, “Portland. State law calls for “at léast 12 wit- itering government. service. l grams “to the best |
We Tita ipples Only: to em-) nesses,” , + Talbott offered: to sell or. give valley and the no:
oF -f6% er more persons. (Additional details on habe 2). away “all his industrial holdings: ing educational an
eee tinal error, the “tone eee Wr) Denes except a 6% per cent interest in| activities and the
Brenner: also. sai
m= ison a trip east, +
In weeks." and hope:
best the station cot
‘Soe Telev rhe.
TY Not Res
Salem Stati
‘Help for P
PORTLAND We —
ng broadcasts from, &
a}?
—
the table. A chair at the spot where
the Bible lay had been moved slight-
ly back and turned away from the
table unlike the other chairs neatly
positioned around it. This suggested
to Captain Friese that Mrs. Litchfield
might have been called away while
she had been sitting at the table read-
ing the Bible.
In the kitchen, Captain Friese
found everything in apple pie order.
On the kitchen table there was a
quantity of groceries, which looked
as though they had been delivered a
short time before. Their appearance
suggested that Mrs. Litchfield had
unpacked them and was planning to
put them away in her cupboard later.
Other than that, the kitchen was as
neat as the proverbial pin and pro-
vided clear evidence that the elderly
woman, despite her age, had been a
meticulous housekeeper. There were
no dirty dishes or pots and pans ly-
ing about. The floor was immaculate.
Dish towels were neatly hung on
their rack.
The bathroom, however, presented
a far different picture. The lavatory
was speckled with dark crimson
spots. Several stained towels had
been tossed haphazardly on the floor.
Numerous reddish smears could be
seen at a few places on the white
porcelain fixtures.
To Captain Friese, this was obvious
evidence that the murderer had spent
some time here, leisurely washing
away traces of his victim’s blood
from his person and his clothing be-
fore fleeing.
But that wasn’t all the captain
found in the bathroom. On the floor
beside the lavatory he spotted a sliver
of bone. Upon close examination, it
resembled nothing more than a splin-
ter a bone from the slain woman’s
skull!
8
If brutal murderer of the elderly woman were caught and convicted,
he was almost certain to face death in Oregon’s grim gas chamber
How the captain wondered as he
stared at this grisly discovery, had
the bit of bone gotten into the bath-
room?
The old woman had been mur-
dered in the woodshed, presumably
by blows from the bloodstained axe
and the stick of wood. Had the bone
fragment clung to the murderer’s
clothing and been washed off, unno-
ticed by the killer while he was
cleaning himself up?
Or had it adhered to some other
lethal weapon the man had used and
carried away with him? Was it some
instrument he had been carrying in
the suitcase, the one the cab driver-
roomer had seen in the hands of the
stranger Saturday afternoon before
he left for work?
Captain Friese filed these questions
away in a corner of his mind for
further consideration. -
He could find no evidence of disor-
der anywhere else in the house. Mrs.
Litchfield’s bed was neatly made, in-
dicating that she had not slept in it
on Saturday night. Everything else
in the bedroom conformed to the
pattern of neatness which character-
ized the elderly victim’s orderly
habits. :
As Captain Friese completed his
inspection of the premises, Detectives
Houser and Parker returned from
their tour of the neighborhood.
“We didn’t turn up much,” Parker
reported, “but we did get a little that
might narrow the time element some-
what.”
According to close neighbors ques-
tioned by the detectives in their can-
vass of the area, Mrs. Litchfield had
worked in her yard as late as noon
on Saturday. And according to a man
who lived at 1345 Waller Street, only
a few yards from the victim’s home,
sometime around five or 5:30 Satur-
day afternoon he had heard what he
thought might be a woodpile falling
down with a resounding crash at the
Litchfield place.
“Nobody,” Detective Houser said,
“remembers seeing any strange cars
around,”
“Did you talk to everybody in the
neighborhood?” Friese asked.
“Everybody we could find in,” De-
tective Parker replied. “This is Sun-
day—we got no answer to our knocks
at a few of the houses. People are
probably out visiting. We'll check
them out later.”
Captain Friese nodded. “Some of
them might know something that will
help. Meanwhile, we’d better get the
routine taken care of.”
Making another call to headquar-
ters, the captain now ordered a crew
of crime technicians dispatched to
the murder scene. When they ar-
rived, he instructed them to go over
the entire premises in a careful
search for fingerprints, as well as to
process the bloodstained axe and
stovewood bludgeon found near the
dead woman’s body in the woodshed.
In the meantime, Captain Friese
returned to his office at headquarters
to await results from the intensive
search being made of the hobo jun-
gles in the capital city area. He had
been at his desk less than a half hour
when two uniformed officers brought
in a middle-aged man, _ shabbily
dressed.
“This fellow’s coat has traces of
dried blood on it,” one of the patrol-
men reported. “He tells us he got into
an argument at a beer parlor yester-
day afternoon and some guy punched
him in the nose.”
“That’s right,” the vagrant de-
clared. “We were both trying to make
time with one of the girls there. He
ot sore because she invited me to
er hotel room. Before I knew what
was happening, he socked me. The
girl took me to her place and washed
the blood off my coat. I stayed there
till after midnight.”
The man gave his name as Carl
Preston and said he was “just seeing
the country.” He emphatically de-
nied being anywhere near the home
of Susan Litchfield since riding a
freight into town three days before.
However, he was unable to tell the
officers in which tavern the incident
he reported had taken place. Nor
could he identify the man he said
had punched him in the nose.
“Well, surely you know who the
woman was,” Captain Friese said to
him. “If she backs up your story, you
haven’t anything to worry about.”
But all the man could remember
about his casually-met girl friend
was that she had red hair and lived
at a hotel on one of the main streets.
“I guess I had too much beer,” he
commented. “I’m still kinda fuzzy.”
“You'll have plenty of time to get
the cobwebs out of your head,”
Friese assured him. “You'll be here
until we know whether you're telling
the truth.”
A shower and a few hours of sleep
in a cell seemed to refresh Preston’s
memory. “I think I can find the red-
head’s place now,” he told the detec-
tives.
They bundled him into a squad car
and started driving around the
downtown district, passing several
hotels. Finally they approached a
small hotel near the riverfront.
“That’s the place!” Preston ex-
claimed.
The officers took him inside and
began questioning the desk clerk.
“Sure, I remember this fellow
coming in yesterday afternoon,” he
said. “He was with a chick who’s
stayed here before. She’s in Room
402.”
They found the redhead, a woman
of around thirty-five, in her room.
She confirmed Preston’s story in ev-
ery detail. With no further reason to
hold him, the officers took Preston
back to the hobo jungle where he
had been picked up, and returned
to headquarters.
Meanwhile, two other possible sus-
pects had been brought in from other
jungles and _ subsequently were
cleared of complicity in the murder.
By early evening, the case appeared
to grind to a standstill.
At this time, Police Chief Clyde A.
Warren returned home from out of
town and learned of the murder
when he called headquarters. He im-
mediately drove to his office for a
briefing on the case.
As a member of the Oregon State
Police some years before, the chief
had helped to crack a number of baf-
fling murder mysteries. He listened
intently while his assistants brought
him up to date on developments in
the Susan Litchfield murder. Captain
Friese spoke of the sliver of bone
he found in the bathroom and sug-
gested the possibility of another
death weapon, which could have
been carried away by the man with
the suitcase.
The chief sent several squads back
to the murder house neighborhood
for another canvass. They came back
with new information. The blond, be-
(Continued on page 46)
45
a |
KARNES, A ae
» Albert, wh, hanged NASX KMX#HXK (Marion) January 30, 1953
by RICHARD CARSON
Special Investigator for OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES
Not the least of the many problems which
confronted Oregon homicide probers
trying to solve this vicious slaying
was how to sort fact from
incredible coincidence...
Bloody, butchered body of 81-year-old victim (right) was found in her woodshed
\ a ”
NE of the first rules im-
pressed on newcomers to
homicide investigation is a
deceptively simple one:
“Motivation is the prime
key to a successful murder probe.”
Since a major qualification for
work in homicide is several years ex-
perience in other fields of investiga-
tion, it is umnecessary to elaborate
further on this axiom. As veteran
detectives, the budding murder spe-
cialists know that establishing moti-
vation will open up innumerable
doors to facts about the character of
a criminal. Greed, lust, revenge, or
even as commonplace a factor as the
profit motive—each tells its own
story about a man who kills another
human being. Once the motive is
established, other fragments of the
puzzle fall into place, and it is rela-
tively simple for an astute investi-
BOOK-LENGTH SPECIAL
MURDERER
| IN THE WOODPILE
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE, July, 1970
gator to fill in gaps in the pattern of
physical evidence.
When he has put them all together,
even in cases in which the actual
identity of the killer remains un-
known, the homicide detective at
least knows the type of man he is
seeking.
By logical extension of these prin-
ciples, it follows that the absence of
a clear-cut motive makes a case the
most difficult of all murder cases to
solve when there are no clues to the
slayer’s identity. They rarely admit
it to the press in so many words, but
these are the frustrating cases in
which homicide probers are forced
to recognize that the killer could be
anyone, he could have come from
anywhere, he could have gone any-
where—or nowhere—after taking the
life of his hapless victim.
If he has been careful not to leave
fingerprints, he forces the men
charged with his apprehension to ad-
mit to themselves: “We’ve got noth-
ing but a body.”
It was such a murder which broke
the long, homicide-free record of the
police department of Salem, the quiet,
tree-lined, flower-decked capital of
the State of Oregon in the heart of
the scenic Willamette River Valley.
According to the records on file at
the Salem headquarters, this bloody
event burst upon the quiet western
community in the small hours of an
otherwise quiet Sunday morning.
It was 25 minutes before four o’~
clock when the desk sergeant took a
call from an excited man on that
eighth day of June. The caller was
so agitated that his first words were
virtually unintelligible and the ser-
geant had to quiet him down before ~
he could make any sense out of what
the man was trying to tell him. The
only words, in fact, that came over
clearly, were:
“TI think my landlady has been
murdered!”
When he had finally calmed the
caller, the sergeant took down the
pertinent information he had to have
before he could do anything about it.
The caller’s name: Ed Wambley. The
address where the crime had oc- ©
curred: 1333 Waller Street, which the
duty officer knew was one of Salem’s
quietest and oldest residential areas.
That was enough for the moment. The
sergeant told the caller to stand by
and not to touch anything.
“Tll have some men there in a few
minutes, Mr. Wambley,” the officer
said. “Wait outside for them.”
He then radioed instructions to the
squad car nearest to the crime scene
to proceed to the address at once
and report back as soon as they had
ascertained exactly what had hap-
pened. It was 4:40 am. when the
police cruiser manned by Patrolmen
William DeVall and Vernon White
screeched to a halt in front of the
neat grounds of the home on Waller
Street. A young man hurried over to
the police car as the officers alighted.
“!'m Ed Wambley,” he said breath-
lessly. “I’m the one who called the
station.”
“What’s the trouble?” Patrolman
White asked. “The sergeant said
something about a possible murder.”
The young man _ nodded and
pointed to an attached woodshed at
one side of the house. “It’s Mrs.
Litchfield,” he said. “She’s in there.
. It’s—it’s—” He paused, as if
groping for some all encompassing
word to describe what he wanted to
say, then finished on a helpless note
... “It’s just awful!”
Wambley led the officers to the out-
side door of the shed, saying, “I went
in this way. She’s lying near the door
that goes into the house.”
The patrolmen entered the shed. In
one corner, lying between a large
chopping block and a neatly stacked
pile of split wood, was the crumpled
body of a white-haired woman. The
officers at once noted a number of
things.
First, even without trying to find
a pulse beat, they knew she was dead.
The woman lay very still. There was
a shocking profusion of blood in evi-
dence, but save for a couple of scat-
tered moist spots on the rough wood
floor of the shed, all of it had already
dried.
Patrolmen White and DeVall noted
that the dead woman was- wearing
work gloves on her outstretched
hands. Her face and the upper part
of her body were covered with
blood from several ugly, meaty-
looking wounds.
Near the body stood a heavy,
single-bitted axe and a piece of stove
wood. The officers noted these items
particularly because both were heav-
ily stained with blood. It too had co-
agulated.
Officer DeVall could not suppress
an involuntary gasp with his first
look at the ghastly sight. Officer
White squatted beside the woman’s
body for a closer look at the victim
of Salem’s first murder in 17 years.
He was silent for several moments.
Then he said: “It looks like she
was first hit in the mouth by a fist.
And I think some of the blows to her
head must have been inflicted after
she was knocked down. Whoever did
it certainly wanted to make sure the
poor woman was dead.”
Rising to his feet, he said to his
partner, “You’d better report in,
Vern. I'll stay here with the body.”
DeVall hurried out to the cruiser and
got on the radio to report sketchy
details of what they had found.
Within scant minutes, the quiet
neighborhood was alive with traffic
as official cars of all descriptions
converged on the scene. Uniformed
patrolmen, who arrived first, were
followed by a couple of detective
teams. Captain Stanley Friese and
detectives Wayne Parker and David
‘MM. Houser were alerted at their
homes, and arrived almost simul-
taneously with Marion County Cor-
oner Leston W. Howell. Everyone
stepped away from the body to per-
mit the coroner to make his exami-
nation of the corpse. While he was
doing this, the detectives questioned
the man who had telephoned the re-
port of the crime.
Ed Wambley told them he was a
taxi driver for a company in the city.
He said he was 30 years old and had
roomed at the Litchfield home for
several months.
“I finished work around four this
morning,” he related. “I had a bite
to eat, then came home. I wanted to
be sure Mrs. Litchfield had enough
wood to cook breakfast with, so I
started to go into the woodshed.”
Wambley said that the inside door
to the shed was usually kept locked
and the key was always hung on a
hook near the door. When he looked
for it, however, it was gone, he added.
“J thought she had forgotten to
leave it,” the cab driver said, “so I
went to Mrs. Litchfield’s room. She
wasn’t there, which was pretty sur-
prising. I’ve never known her to be
up and around at that hour of the
night. I had a hunch something must
be wrong, so I went around to the
back door of the shed. I went inside—
and found her like that.” The man
shuddered as he. concluded his ac-
count.
By now, Coroner Howell had com-
pleted his examination and came out
to talk to the detectives. “This is the
worst crime I’ve ever seen,” he said,
shaking his head. “Whoever killed
this woman is definitely a sadist. The
upper torso was deliberately muti-
lated—undoubtedly after she was
dead.”
“Any idea about when it happened,
Les?” Captain Friese asked.
The coroner estimated that the
murder had occurred sometime dur-
ing the previous afternoon, Saturday.
“But that’s just a guess,” he added.
‘Tll have the autopsy started first
thing tomorrow morning, and we may
be able then to fix the time a little
more definitely.”
After the coroner had supervised
removal of the body to the Howell-
Edwards funeral home, Captain
Friese and his assistants again ques-
tioned the roomer who had found the
body in the hopes that he might have
some information which could throw
some light on the shocking crime. For
openers, they wanted to know when
he had last seen the landlady alive.
“The last time I actually saw Mrs.
Litchfield was Friday afternoon when
I paid her my room rent just before
I left for work,” he said. “When I got
up Saturday, she wasn’t around. I
didn’t think anything about it. I fig-
ured maybe she had walked over to
chat with one of the neighbors. She
used to do that sometimes, when the
weather was nice. Or that maybe
she’d gone shopping.”
“Did you notice anything out of the
ordinary before you left for work?”
the captain asked. “Or see anyone?”
“There was nothing out of the ordi-
nary,” the cab driver-roomer replied,
“but I did see someone. A young
fellow came to the door just as I was
Det. Houser (I.) and Capt. Friese hold gore-splattered axe and piece of stove wood, first thought to be death weapons
43
Chief Warren sought man who might have actual murder
weapon—a_ carpenter's
getting ready to leave and asked if
Mrs. Litchfield was here. When I
said she wasn’t, he wanted to know
when she’d be back. I told him I
didn’t know.” He paused to light a
cigarette.
“What did he say to that?” asked
Captain Friese.
“Not much,” the witness answered.
“Just that he was an old friend of
hers and would try to come back
later to visit her.”
“Can you describe
asked Detective Parker.
Wambley was thoughtful for a
moment, then said the stranger ap-
peared to be around 25 years old,
was slightly built, wore eyeglasses
and had “blondish hair—sort of on
the dark side.” He also said the visi-
tor had a pointed chin and “sort of
narrow shoulders.” He had been car-
rying a suitcase.
“Mrs. Litchfield’s son might know
who he is,’ Wambley suggested.
The detectives were well. ac-
quainted with the murder victim’s
son, a former police officer who had
become the farm labor representative
for the capital city area in the State
Employment Service. After sending
Detective Houser and Parker out to
canvass the neighborhood for any in-
formation they could pick up which
might throw some light on the savage
crime, Captain Friese used a neigh-
bor’s telephone to contact the victim’s
son.
The man was stunned by the news
of his mother’s brutal murder. He
said he would come as quickly as
possible. He arrived within a half
hour, but was unable to offer any
clue to the identity of the unknown
caller described by the roomer. He
could not recall anyone who might
fit the description, pointing out that
his mother had taken in lodgers for
many years; he couldn’t begin to re-
member all the people who had lived
with her.
44
this guy?”
claw hammer—in
his
suitcase
It was possible, though, he sug-
gested that the man might have been
a former roomer who had stopped by
for a visit, or even to see about en-
gaging a room again.
Dismissing the matter of the mys-
terious caller for the moment, the
captain asked the victim’s son if he
could think of any possible motive
for the vicious slaying.
The man shook his head in baffle-
ment. He said he didn’t think it
could have been robbery, because his
mother never kept much money
around the house. He went to see if
the household cash was still in its
usual place. Captain Friese accom-
panied him to a writing desk, where
the man rummaged through a drawer
filled with odds and ends till he found
a small metal box which had once held
chocolates.
Removing the box’s cover, he found
$65 in bills of various denominations,
which he said he thought was about
the usual amount his mother might
have kept on hand.
To Captain. Friese this did not
completely eliminate robbery as the
motive. After seeing where the box
was kept, it. occurred to him that the
murderer might not have been able
to find the hidden money.
“There’s another possible motive,”
he suggested. “The brutality of the
crime suggests it might have been
committed by someone who had a
grievance against the victim.” He
asked the dead woman’s son if he
could think of anyone who might
~— nursed a bitter grudge against
er.
The bereaved man shook his head
and said he’d never heard of his
mother having trouble with anyone.
In further questioning of the victim’s
next of kin, the captain learned the
following about Mrs. Litchfield’s
background:
Susan Litchfield ‘was a native Ore-
gonian. She had moved to Salem
when she was a girl of 17 and had
lived in the city continuously ever
since. In 1904 she had married George
Litchfield, and in 1911 they had
moved into the house where she had
been murdered. She had lived there
without interruption for nearly 41
years,
Susan Litchfield’s husband had
served in the United States Army
during the Spanish-American War.
While on duty in the Philippines, he
had been stricken with poisoning of
some undetermined origin. The afflic-
tion had left him in poor health
until his death in 1925. At that time
he had been employed as a mail car-
rier in the Rosedale district south of
Salem. When he died, Susan Litch-
field had taken over the mail route
and carried it for many years.
Susan Litchfield had been a mem-
ber of the Baptist Church, and was
quite active in church affairs until
advancing age began to limit her
movements. She was also active in
the Spanish-American War Veterans’
Auxiliary.
None of this information offered
any sort of hint as to why the 81-
year-old woman had been so shock-
ingly murdered. Incongruously, for
one of her years, her slaying had all
the earmarks of a crime of passion,
but that it was such a crime seemed
out of the question.
For want of any more specific
leads, Captain Friese theorized that
a transient thief with a sadistic
streak might have been her slayer.
Aware that the tracks of the South-
ern Pacific Railroad were only a few
blocks from the murder scene, he
thought it possible that a hobo might
have found his way there. Moreover,
the tracks nearby offered an avenue
of escape to a vagrant familiar with
methods of hopping a passing freight
train.
Going to his car, the captain con-
tacted headquarters by radio and or-
dered an immediate search of several
hobo jungles in the Salem area.
“Bring in anybody with suspicious
stains on his clothing,” he instructed
the dispatcher. “Or anybody else who
can’t come up with a convincing ac-
count of where he was yesterday af-
ternoon and evening. If our man is a
hobo, we’ve got to grab him before
he can get a freight out of here.”
The. captain then returned to the
Litchfield house and made a metic-
ulous examination of the premises in
an effort to reconstruct the crime.
The living room, he noted, showed no
sign of violence, or that it might have
been ransacked by a prowler. Neither
did the dining room, where the elder-
ly victim’s family Bible lay open on
”
i
- we ey
"74m AL LUL
Ree ey Bg ee ae, RONG AE EEO OLICL. TIT & at (le guard and he-yelled: “Get out of ' be a lot worse. It was, of course, in ¢
be oe Fe any thir into the prison and to ‘there !” I got out. j rn days ane prison refotm came
Serge", find any scars he may have on his head. . ae ven now, with all the moder impro
7 : : bi :
kis All scars are l'sted in the official descrip- epost) Helps Men ‘2! ments, with radio concerts and talk:
s tion, along with the fingerprints and exact +;,; It doesn’t take long to get used to the
| y = pictures, it is still a place of punishme
ae meastirements. The hair clipping is done ps" routine of prison life, and I didn’t make
P and those who have been there don’t wa
=~: only once. It isn’t kept that way. Bie: a 4 more si like stealing tomatoes. ‘sto go back. on
: : : 7 Ou remember I mentioned one of the 4 The most horrible thin about it is
+ Prison Number Assigned Ss possemen who was 80 eager to lynch An- *\ hangings. When there isan execution
At this time, also, the new prisoner gets | detson and me after we were caught, and casts a pall of glodm over the prison -th
3 the number that is to be his as long as he | ‘I sad he was coming into the story. Well, idocsn't wear off for weeks,
“Le ae ys Stays there. There is a notion that convicts | 4 couple of months after I entered the Fhe first hanging while I was there c
gered iM -the penitentiary are called by number penitentiary I was Working in the barber ‘x. that of Neil Hart, and of course I couldn
#4" ae4 instead of by name. That isn’t so, at least j< » Shop when a “fresh fish” was brought in - \help thinking how narrowly I had escape
idee * it Oregon. The men are called by name ,,., 'and I recognized him as this same posse- “tunis fate, eg “f
“2 and the-iumber serves: the pringipal puf | man. He had shot his wife five times, and =
He had ‘softened ,¢ompletely, before h
Sj pose of alt identification mark. it wasn’t his fault that she happened to .. ...Itime to 80. He had éthbraced religion an
oe qe
pe Dressed in atid ready to take our placesy Survive, so here he was in the same fix as ps ‘Zconfessed his sins,‘even
ee... 88 members of the prison population, we: “the man he wanted to string up to a tree. resin ie Sheriff Taylor. w Gia is
_ shew prisoners were taken back to our fish} > My job was to get the prisoners ready | *° ">. commit thé murder for which we were &
fm. cells to aWait an interview with the war- <y for the barber. When this fellow had sat tay
Be, ; pS 7 sehtenced,
SFeers, den, Louis Compton. He and his deputy j.s-/down in the barber chair and looked up .
gegets, Cathe and talked with us in our cells. ,m and saw me standing beside him stropping Prisoners Boo H Aging
Ste That talk from the warden wat one of Mutt & razdr his face turned as white as paper. When Hart—hfs bn all was Emmet
eee” the most important events in my Zé.) Most people don’t realize what a really Bancroft—was to be h ll the othet
ro Be > > 7 o.4 a . rail ¢ > . . anged all t e othe
i265. Combined with the experiences I had been /: ine work in human salvage the Oregon {Prisoners wete locked in their cells. There
es +x through, it changed my whole outlook. The | -_; State prison is doing. There was 7 nein a
e are about 900'° -.» .!wag g great stanining an ti
<x. Warden pointed out that I had been on iuc °° Inmates now. and two-thirds-of them are ‘the prisoners bene Ginehe eee a
wrong track and had nobody but myself to” :
: Bona i. under 22 years of age, Less than a fourth refusing to commute.
ce j,, blame for the fix I was in, which was true. of them will go back for sécond terms see. | death neiptey had ay Roger he a
ff £355 He also made it fleat that whatever mis- because the prison will ghow them that they. voters and legislature after be:ng off the
: Gee tikes I had made in the past were not -{ Were on the wr | et
ong track and straighten
oger. Boing to be throwh up at me, but that them out.
ges ach man in the prison community would _. The state prison fs a
Rey be-treated as the kind 6f man He proved .. ‘I don't mean that {
44
f begotten and Hart’s hanging
‘ “* .;was the first after i
pea shoo and pat tee the penalty had beer
septa etre or & Joke. A man va \; The second hanging while | in th
B=575;; himself to. be. oO |. learn almost any occupation he wants to | ...°! hig tion. of Pecan
<i, casi “Your time here will be ust what you | “jthere, and the authstitles wil give hire bug eet Rene Pe a eaceutlen At eae
seers make it,” the warden said. F1f. yet want to Sere, help. even gétting special books for ~~ ‘the prisoners were lined up j carl ie
Ee ee: “; Make sométhing of yourself, we'll Meet you yh 3 8 usa, here are convicts doing research og there wo Idn’t b ‘ ry i Aig C
ay. More than, half way. If you want to be” ' work there, laboring in, the flax plant or That © any disturbance,
eH AR tough, you'll find that the prison authori- making curios for salé‘to rai
se the money st. ; was even worse than being locked
Speer] tles can Be Just as tough or tougher. My. —for_materlals for their experiments. hems » hee rk pore that trap drops with
‘advice to you, foung man, is to do your, For my part, I learned automobile re- 59%) In the yard ey 2OU can hear clear out
own time, mind your own business and: ~ Jpairing and electrical work. J had no ase) 72k lens
“i A let the other fellow m:nd hig,” * es [euence that I ever would get out of*prison ] he be be Brel! Oregon eer pes during ,
°s - ee aie je 4 but l ne” : wi the big break in August, 1925, w |
‘wwe’ Warden's Advice Helpful ie al was planning for the future any “gon Jones and ah oa Holman pois
=4 It seems tothe now that that was about’ | The penitentiary is 2 complete ‘com- mA oweeney, were killed, and Tom Murray, <
A the best advice*l ever had, The warden “munity. It has its own farm, its iieok _ *-“!James Willos and Ellsworth Kelley escaped. !
left me in the cell a while to think it over." “where all the clothing, shoes and such‘ At the time I was working in the ‘prison
“te, It occurred to me that I had been swim- , 2 things are mace. its laundry, kitchen, hos- 2: bospitah. ant saw every bit of the action. .
oe thing against the current and the warder, j eoppltal,-printin ps and everything needed “A Tt -was ike watching a movie,
Ae Bona lO Sarty on life. If. a-than cémes out of - “3 Dpi Fy
FONG Dave tie ig “that place without having learned a useful Sie eon Break Exciting , :
d m6ving along with me instead of , j@ccupation he must be very stubborn or t break was a lob lke ours of five
7 .
¢ against me. ~ '. \very stupid. te -Ayeart before,
ee After that I was ass'gned to work with «°° j_7 7 a, en eee: SOR
"gj the main line. My first job was in the . ca L337 / pana es
. * Begsce re tem sn
+3
BA
Si,g8*) flax mill, About 100 men work in the mill.
s “Sg. and the flax industry keeps about 300 pri: - -,
i Ofiers busy altogether, some of them out- , ees a
oer side the pola wotk fs pretty strenu- ee,
S54 ous, but Jt has the advantage état the men fumed BRS
ite paid 3 its#eSeants a day, which is
> €nough to keep 4 fellow in tobacco and
pas
oy
sua, Other extras, with a little tandy occa: nes
To oe
we
ini sionally, ; ad «Mac eine t
JSe27. ’ My first day on the Job f made an erro:
eet that might have been serious. Carrying
+, gp 10ads of flax into the plant from a shed, I |
“geeri got hungrier and Aungrier. I ‘had Been
sage lying around int Jail: fon weeks and was WRtee :
Sete > besides I-never seemed to- ~~
d there was fiétd of fine. tomatoes fe ; ‘
anging éd and jnviting on the vines, soo tayag ¢
“after a while I stepped around the shed Shas ed
‘and went after one. ; ie.
One of the guards yelled seeing, but ~ ee at
I didn’t realize he was yelling at me or tat,
that the somate patch was out of bounds. *. Window at the Oregon state penitentiary through which escapes
E.went on:and picked a big, red tomato and . . _ were attempted.
was “Standing there eating it when the RR re me anes
oy.” {peg Sn’
ee ER gu. ”
ves Tye > >
: canter atta WILLOS, whites, hanged Oregon (Marion County) on l=20-1928,
; . f ae wt be -
¢ Prat
ae ag
or wall was not erected until 1883.
ing on a makeshift rope. Once on the
Just prior to the erection of the brick
ground they charged the turnkey and
stockade in 1883, another calamitous arsenal where they armed themselves
break occurred. It was the worst in the with pistols and rifles. They laid siege
history of the institution. On July 3, to Tower One and shot down Sweeny
1883, Warden Collins and two other and Holman, but not before convict
officers were seized by a group of des- Jones was cut down in the exchange of
perate prisoners in the vicinity of the bullets. They fled in the direction of the
prison brick yard. They were held as State Hospital where they commandeered
hostages at knife point and forced to a vehicle and made successful their es-
walk toward the main gate in the wooden cape which was short lived. Willos and
stockade. Fifty or sixty prisoners were Kelley were picked up together and ex-
involved in the break, and as they ap- ecuted for their part in the incident,
proached the gate they demanded that and Murray was found and returned, but
the guard, Wilford Stillwell, open it or he beat the executioner by hanging him-
they would decapitate the warden. self in his cell on death row. ;
Stillwell opened the gate and the con- Many other sensational an tragic in-
victs rushed through. The guard emptied cidents concerning riots and escapes, too
his Sharp’s automatic rifle into the wave numerous to mention, occurred in the
of fleeing men. The warden freed him. earlier days. Lack of Proper facility was
self and managed to close the gate, but’ more the element of responsibility in
not until fourteen had succeeded in those days than anything else. In 1955
escaping. Guard Stillwell brought down thirty foot walls, highly tempered steel
six of the escaping convicts with un- bars, and modern locking devices, coupled
canny marksmanship and was commend- with excellently trained prison officers,
ded by Governor Moody that afternoon tend to discourage prisoners from think-
for saving the penitentiary from com- ing about little else than serving their
plete disaster. Three prisoners were killed time.
and four badly wounded. The prison industrial program con-
Another serious break and escape took tributes a great deal toward helping the
place in June, 1902, when Harry Tracy prisoner to help himself. The program
and David Merrill, notorious bandits, has made spectacular strides in recent
broke out after shooting down and fa- years. It is interesting to consider the
tally wounding three officers. The escape step by step progress of industry in the.
of these prisoners has always been shroud- Oregon Penal System. The first attempt
ed in a veil of mystery as no one was at prison industry in 1855 was harness
positively able to escertain how they and saddle work. Blacksmith work might
managed to procure the rifles that they be said to fall into the Category of early
used in making their bloody and violent industry.
escape. The escape of these two prisoners When the instituti
touched off a man-hunt throughout the the manufacture of brick began, and as ©
Northwest that was never equalled. previously stated, this work gained great
In 1925, a serious escape took place at impetus under the leadership of Superin-
the Oregon Prison which involved four tendent Berry who provided a machine
Prisoners and resulted in the death of for making the brick at a faster pace.
three. officers. The Prisoners were Tom Under Superintendent Watkins, who
Murray, Ellsworth Kelley, Oregon Jones followed Berry in 1870, the Prison in-
and James Willos. The brave prison offi- dustrial program was expanded tremen-
cers who gave their lives in behalf of the dously and became s0 diversified that
State of Oregon to stop these desperate shops were constructed for a boot and
convicts from escaping were J. M. Hol- — shoe factory, a tannery and saddle tree
man, J. L. Sweeny and Lute Savage. shop, and a flax and saw mill. However,
At six o’clock in the evening of Au- it was the manufacture of brick that
gust 12 the four convicts made their brought in such high revenue to the
Way to the roof of the cell house and prison.
descended over the administration build-
on moved to Salem,
In 1883, Superintendent Stratton en-
ee
———
=a
““ -went to the shopping center with them
+
4
- and on a tour,” Veneable continued. “Do
© you recall that?” Pe OS eee
“No sir,” Jarrell answered.
Jarrell went on to testify that he had
never seen Mala Ann Still in his life and
that he had not been on Tribble Mill Road
that he could remember.
After the defense rested its case,
- however, District Attorney Huff was
ready with some extremely appropriate
rebuttal.
He introduced fingerprint experts to
testify regarding the fabric calendars
found by the father who had taken his
children away from Santa’s workshop on
Christmas Eve, the man whose mother-
in-law had testified for the introduction
into evidence of these seemingly in-
significant items, which had come from
Mala Ann Still's ear. These experts
testified that they had found on the calen-
dars a partial palmprint and fingerprints,
which offered all 21 positive identifica-
‘tion points with the prints of David
Alfred Jarrell! ;
M..: fingerprint experts agree that 8
points are a match; 12 points are a positive
match, and anything over 15 points of
identification aré) an overwhelming
match.
When the jury came in after delibera-
tion on March 9th, they found as follows.
On the charge of kidnaping— guilty.
On the charge of murder—guilty.
On the charge of armed robbery—
guilty :
On the charge of aggravated assault—
* guilty.
In Georgia, aggravated assault is
assault with the intent to rape, rob or
murder, or with a deadly weapon. The
charge of armed robbery arose out of the
theft of the car.
Judge Reid Merritt, after a pre-
“sentencing hearing, pronounced sentence
on 18-year-old David Alfred Jarrell: three
sentences of death, plus ten years on the
assault charge.
At this writing, David Alfred Jarrell is
confined in the prison system of Georgia,
waiting for the outcome of his automatic
appeals. °
As Detectives Blanott and Bishop left
the courtroom in Lawrenceville after
Jarrell had been sentenced, they were
looking forward to a day or two off duty
after the arduous Still murder investiga-
tion and their many days in court. While
they. rode along, the car’s radio crackled
to life, with a report that the body of a
well-dressed man had been found in
another part of the county, his head
blown completely in two by a shotgun
blast.
The two detectives exchanged weary
glances, turned on the spinning blue Mars
light atop their car, and sped off toward
the scene of their next murder investiga-
tion. oo¢
78
Mysterious Motive...
" (Continued from page 47) .
mn A938
freight train.
Going to his car, the captain contacted
headquarters by radio and ordered an im-
mediate search of several hobo jungles in
the Salem area. %
“Bring in anybody with suspicious
stains on his clothing,” he instructed the
dispatcher. “Or anybody else who can't
come up with a convincing account of
where he was yesterday afternoon and
evening. If our man is a hobo, we've got
to grab him before he can get a freight out
of here.”
The captain then returned to the
Litchfield house and made a meticulous
examination of the premises in an effort
to reconstruct the crime. The living room,
he noted, showed no sign of violence, or
having been ransacked by an intruder or
prowler. 2
Neither did the dining room, where
the elderly victim's family Bible lay open
on the table. A chair at the spot where the
Bible lay had been moved slightly back
and turned away from the table, unlike
the other chairs neatly positioned around
it. This suggested, to Captain Friese that
Mrs. Litchfield might have been called
away while she had been sitting at the
table reading the Bible.
In the kitchen, Captain Friese found
everything in order. On the kitchen table
there was a quantity of groceries, which
looked as though they had been delivered
a short time before. Their appearance
suggested that Mrs. Litchfield had un-
packed them and was planning to put
them away in her cupboard later. Other
than that, the kitchen was as neat as the
proverbial pin and provided clear
evidence that the elderly woman, despite
her age, had been a_ meticulous
housekeeper. There were no dirty dishes
or pots and pans lying about. The floor
was immaculate. Dish towels were neatly
hung on their rack.
The bathroom, however, presented a
far different picture. The lavatory was
speckled with dark crimson spots.
Several stained towels had been tossed
haphazardly onto the floor. Numerous
reddish smears could be seen at a few
places on the white porcelain fixtures.
To Captain Friese, this was obvious
evidence that the murderer had spent
some time there, leisurely washing away
traces of his victim’s blood from his per-
son and his clothing before fleeing.
But that was not all the captain found
in the bathroom. On the floor beside the
lavatory he spotted a sliver of bone. Upon
close examination, he found it resembled
a splinter of bone from the slain woman's
skull!
How, the captain wondered as he
stared at this grisly discovery, had the bit
of bone gotten into the bathoom?
The old woman had been murdered
in the woodshed, presumably by blows
from the bloodstained axe and the stickg -
wood. Had the bone fragment clung
the murderer's clothing and been washed |
off, unnoticed by the killer while he wy
cleaning himself up? ehh
Or had it adhered to some other lethg
weapon the man had used and carrie
away with him? Was it some instrumet
he had been carrying in. the suitcase, the
one the cab driver-roomer had seen inthe
hands of the stranger Saturday aftemogy
before he left for work? rae
Captain Friese filed these questiog
away in a corner of his mind for furthe
consideration. ta Sy
He could find no evidence of disordt
anywhere else in the house. Ma
Litchfield’s bed was neatly made, #
dicating that she had not slept in ita
Saturday night. Everything else in the
bedroom conformed to the pattem @
neatness that characterized the elder }
victim’s orderly habits. ia
As Captain Friese completed his
spection of the premises, Detectives
Houser and Parker returned from thet
tour of the neighborhood. 6 ae
“We didn’t turn up much,” Parke
reported, “but we got a little that migt &
narrow the time element somewhat.”» j
According to close neighbors cat
vassed by the detectives, Mrs. Litchfield
had worked in her yard as late as noona
Saturday. And according to a man wht
lived only a few yards from the victims
home, sometime around five or five}
thirty on Saturday afternoon, he had?
heard what he thought might be a woot
pile falling down with a resounding cra
at the Litchfield place. ‘ted
“Nobody,” Detective Houser said .
“remembers seeing any strange cay
around.”
“Did you talk to everybody in i }
neighborhood?” Friese asked. ‘Sy
“Everybody we could find in,” Detee
tive Parker replied. “This is Sunday—W—
got no answer to our knocks at a fewd
the houses. People are probably
visiting. We'll check them out later.”: °
Captain Friese nodded. “Some & :
them might know something that
help. Meanwhile, we'd better get there
tine taken care of.” 4,
Making another call to headquartes
the captain now ordered a crew of crimt
technicians dispatched to the murde
scene. When they arrived, he instru
them to go over the entire premises int
careful search for fingerprints, as wel BE
to process the bloodstained axe ay
stovewood bludgeon found near the F
dead woman’s body in the woodshed. —
In the meantime, Captain Friet™
returned to his office at headquarters
await results from the intensive search B®
ing made on the hobo jungles in BF
capital city area. He had been at his defy
less than a half hour whentwo uniformé ;
officers brought in a middle-aged inal
shabbily dressed. +N
This fellow’s coat has traces of i
“
od on it,” one of the patrolmen
sorted. “He tells us he got into an argu-
"pent at a beer parlor yesterday afternoon
> pd some guy punched him in the nose.”
© "That's right,” the vagrant declared.
"We were both trying to make time with
we of the girls there. He got sore because
de invited me to herhotel room. Before
| inew what was happening, he socked
“we The girl took me to her place and
gashed the blood off my coat. I stayed
> there till after midnight.”
The man gave his name as Carl
Preston and said he was “just seeing the
guntry.” He emphatically denied being
“wywhere near the home of Susan
Litchfield since riding a freight into town
tree days before. However, he was un-
dle to tell the officers in which tavern the
jecident he reported had taken place. Nor
| gould he identify the man he said had
yonched him in the nose.
» woman was,” Captain Friese said to him.
"Mf she backs up your story, you haven't
wything to worry about.”
» But all the man could remember
about his casually met girl friend was that
the had red hair and lived at a hotel on
ove of the main streets. “I guess I had too
much beer,” he commented. “I'm still
Kind of fuzzy.” ”
“You'll have plenty of time to get the
cobwebs out of your head,” the captain
asured him! “Yow’ll be here until we
know for sure whéther you're telling us
the truth.” /
A shower and a few hours of sleep ina
tell seemed to refresh Preston’s memory.
“I think I can find the redhead’s place
ww,” he told the detectives.
c; iH bundled him into a squad car °
and started driving around the down-
town district, passing several hotels.
Finally they approached a small hotel
tear the riverfront.
“That's the. placel” Preston exclaim- _
The officers took him inside and
an questioning the desk clerk.
_ “Sure, I remember this fellow coming
i yesterday afternoon,” he said. “He was
with Miss Powell, she’s in Room 402.”
The detectives found the redhead, a
foom. She confirmed Preston’s story in
very detail. With no further reason to ,
hold him, the officers took Preston back
to the hobo jungle where he had been
picked up and then returned to head-
quarters,
Meanwhile, two other possible
sspects had been brought in from other
Wngles, but subsequently, they too were
red of complicity in the murder of the
ly rooming house keeper. By early
evening, the case appeared to have
®round to a standstill.
At this time, Police Chief Clyde A.
arren retumed home from out of town
#ed.leamed of the murder. He im-
et
“Well surely you know who the .
Woman of around thirty-five, in her ~
mediately drove to his office for a brief-
ing on the case. /
As a member of the Oregon State
Police some years before, the chief had
helped to crack a-number of baffling
murder mysteries. He listened intently
while his assistants brought him up to
date on developments in the Susan
Litchfield murder. Captain Friese spoke
of the sliver of bone he found in the
bathroom and suggested the possibility
of another|death weapon, one which
could have been carried away by the man
with the suitcase.
The chief sent several squads back to
the murder house neighborhood for
another canvass. They came back with
new information. The blond, bespec-
tacled youth carrying the suitcase who
had appeared at the rooming house on
Saturday looking for Mrs. Litchfield had
been seen by a second person on another
occasion.
Mrs. Mary Robbins, who lived a block
down the street from the murder scene,
said she had seen the young man early
Friday evening walking toward the vic-
tim’s home. Her description of him was
identical to the one given by cab driver
Wambley.
This meant that the unknown youth
must have stayed somewhere in the
neighborhood. Friday night, since
Wambley had seen him at the house on
Saturday.
“I want every hotel, auto court and
guest home checked,” Chief Warren said.
“Meanwhile, I’ll get out a bulletin with a
description of this guy. He shouldn't be
too hard to spot, if he hasn’t ditched his
suitcase.”
Every law agency in the West Coast
states was alerted, but nothing came of
the bulletin all that night. Monday morn-.
ing was no more productive, but at one
o'clock that afternoon, State Police at
Grant’s Pass, some 200 miles south of
Salem, flashed the report that a suitcase-
carrying hitchhiker fitting the description
of the wanted man had been picked up
there.
The man told a story that was fishy in
every detail, according to the state police,
but six hours later, after some far-ranging
verification attempts, it proved to be one
of those cases in which something that
sounds like a lie is the truth. The youth
was cleared and released.
Within an hour after this lead fizzled,
Detectives Parker and Houser, one of the
teams checking on places where the
suitcase-carrying youth might have
stayed, struck paydirt at the YMCA in
downtown Salem. The desk clerk listen-
ed to the description they gave, then said,
“Sure, I thinkI know the fellow you want.
He came in here Friday afternoon
registered from a room, and went up-
stairs. He went out a bit later, was gone
for a couple of hours, then came back and
said he'd found some friends and was go-
ing to stay with them. We let him check
out without charging him for the room,
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| Name Age |
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Dalene oben nee meee a
79
aac oe
i |." since he hadn’t done anything ex
a drop his bags there.” NT rey eee
‘ The youth had registered as Martin
| |. — Forbes, Tacoma, Washington. Chief
at Warren realized it might be a fictitious
‘ name, but he called Tacoma police and
' asked them to check it out.
ae Meanwhile, in a discussion of the case
i. «in the chief's office, Captain Friese
*\ suggested a new investigative tack. He
Ae reasoned that since Mrs. Litchfield had
have kept a record of her roomers. If they
could find that record, they could start
checking out any names they found in it.
If her murderer had been a former lodger
at the house, his name should be listed.
f : Sooner or later, they'd come across it and
'. something might turn up in their checking
. of the man.
,... Chief Warren agreed this was a good
‘. idea and they sped out to the Litchfield
Ni home. In a dresser drawer in the slain
woman's bedroom, in something less than
an hour of searching, they found what
they were seeking, a careful, neatly in-
scribed listing in a little notebook of all of
Mrs. Litchfield’s roomers for the past five
years, together with sums they had paid
for their-rooms.
’ Leafing through the pages covering
the past couple of years, Chief Warren
suddenly exclaimed, “Look here!” He
pointed to a name entered in the book ap-
proximately a year before.
: “Martin Forbes!” Detective Houser
§ exclaimed. “The guy we're looking for!”
“He probably looked“ up Mrs.
RS
Litchfield on Friday,” Captain Friese
speculated, “and she offered to rent him
* one of her rooms. But that doesn’t explain
_ why he came back the next afternoon and
asked for her.”
~ “Maybe he tried to borrow money
from her,” Detective Parker suggested,
AN OFFICIAL DETECTIVE EXCLUSIVE!
‘The wonder—and the horror—was that Amy could
have been so viciously slain in broad daylight on her
way home from school, but from all the evidence at the
crime scene, detectives were certain the
PRETTY GIRL’S
: DEATH STRUGGLE
.. BRANDED HER KILLER!
been such a meticulous person, she must ,
“and she told him to leave. He could have
come back for another try.”
What followed the discovery of Mar-
tin Forbes’ name in the victim's lodger list
proved to be one of those one-in-a-
million coincidences which sometimes
“ crop up to wreak havoc in a homicide in-
vestigation.
Within the hour,.-Tacoma police
reported that a Martin Forbes had indeed
been living in that city. A check with his
relatives indicated that he had left by bus
for California the previous Thursday,
with announced intentions of stopping in
Salem to look up a cousin who had recent-
ly meved to the Oregon capital. The
cousin’s name was furnished.
The Salem detectives found his name
in the telephone directory and rushed out
to talk to him. eis
Marcin Forbes was genuinely stunned
and saddened to hear of the murder of his
former landlady, but he could offer no
clue to the identiy of her murderer.
Returning to the stat‘yn, the detec-
tives now heard from Dr. William
Lidbeck, who had just completed the
legally required autopsy on the slain
woman.
“You'd better start looking for another
death weapon,” the doctor reported.
“There’s no doubt the axe and the piece of
cordwood were used on the victim, but
they didn’t cause her death.”
He explained that the shape and depth
of the three most serious of the 14 hideous
wounds in the victim’s skull indicated that
a sharp instrument approximately one
and a half inches wide had been used to
inflict them.
“I'd guess it was a-carpenter’s claw
hammer,” the pathologist said.
Don’t miss the shocking details of this report
in the February issue of
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE
aa é R
Chief Warren listed intently. This
stantiated Captain Friese’s theory
regard to the bone splinter found in
bathroom. The time of death. was
timated to be a six-hour period be
2:30 and 8:30 p.m. on Saturday,
Close on the heels of this report ’
from the technicians who A
one
processed the murder. premises,
fingerprints had been found on either
axe or the piece of cordwood used agg fat
bludgeon. And only useless smudge
were found elsewhere in the house, pri.
cipally in the bathroom.
On Tuesday, detectives talked to the #
grocer’s deliveryman who had taken @
eck of persons who had known him
ned up nothing to implicated him in
murder, but on the basis of the
iption, Chief Warren ordered a
intensive check on the mani.
Detectives soon learned that Karnes
on parole from the Washington State
ormatory at Monroe, where he had
m serving a one-year term for
glary. Even more significant was the
ation from prison authorities that
was known to have sadistic
dencies. This made Karnes a prime
pect at once, and Chief Warren
dered an all-out effort to locate him.
"The suspect’s wife was found quickly,
order of staples to the Litchfield home gut she had no idea of his whereabouts.
Saturday morning. He said the womajSehad divorced him while he
paid him $7.70 from her purse and be §#o
didn’t think she had very. much moe§
money in her handbag. 4
was in the
atory. . ep TOS
Robbery was eliminated as a possible ik was learned that since his parole,
motive for the vicious killing,
probers were left without an alternative
As for the slayer, about all they knew fe
sure was that he must have brought the} (hie
claw hammer with him; it was established
that the victim did not have one in tk
house. y Ss at
On Thursday, the fifth day of thee
vestigation, with the other phases of the
case in a stalemate, the squads checking
out Mrs. Litchfield’s former roome
came upon the name of one Albet
William Karnes, who, according to pe
ple who remembered him, . close
resembled the description of the strange
with the suitcase.
Karnes, it was learned, was a man’
his early twenties. He had stayed witht
elderly woman a couple of years ago,
1950, when he was driving a bus for te
, Chemawa Indian School just north
Salem. His wife had been with him the
} rity
THE PRETTY GIR s
DEATH STRUGGLI
RPAMDED HED }
80
but te# times had been supporting himself by
ding odd jobs as a carpenter, and that he
known to carry his tools with him.
f Warren ordered an_ ll-points
bulletin for his arrest for investigation of -
ty urder.
‘The following week, police in The
Dalles; Oregon, which is 160 miles
torthwest of Salem, reported that they
had a prisoner who might be the eagerly
tought Karnes. On Saturday, June 15,
$52, a week after Mrs. Litchfield was
thin in Salem, The Dalles police had
wrested a young man who gave his name
# Bill Davidson for burglarizing the
home of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Innis.
» Mrs. Innis, 35, had surprised him in the
tt of robbing her home, and he attacked
with a claw hammer and fractured
ber skull. The assailant fled, but was cap-
tired the next morning in, of all places,
the basement of the Innis home. He said
Aehad returned there figuring it would be
last place police would look for him.
| He readily admitted the attack.
© A fingerprint check quickly establish-
that Bill Davidson was a phony name;
suspect was, in reality, the much-
jought Albert Kames.
But while he openly admitted the
tglary and assault on the housewife,
Kames denied that he had been anywhere
wear Salem in weeks. Through the efforts
i pChiet Warren, this was proved to bea
|. The chief had Karnes identified from
his mug shots by the cab driver and
®eighbor who had seen the suitcase-
‘arrying stranger at the Litchfield home.
» When the suspect's picture was
Published in the newspapers, the
© Proprietor of a chili joint on State Street
“ame forward to say he was certain he
a served a meal to Karmes on the after-
| *0n of Mrs. Litchfield’s murder.
And when police located the hotel
ay Kames had been staying, they
nd the suitcase which witnesses had
en. What's more, in the suitcase they
a claw hammer.
Confronted by these incriminating
developments, the 24-year-old parolee
admitted the murder of Mrs. Susan
Litchfield.,In the presence of Salem of-
ficers, Chief Jack Lyons of The Dalles
police, and Wasco County Deputy Henry
Re, Karnes dictated a full confession to a
circuit court reporter.
Karnes said he had arrived in Salem
late on the afternoon of Friday, June 6th,
from the coast. He claimed that he had
gone to Mrs. Litchfield’s house to look for
his ex-wife, who had divorced him while
he was in the reformatory. He said he
spent about 20 minutes visiting with his
former landlady, and then left.
The next afternoon, however, he
returned. He found Mrs. Litchfield in the
woodshed and bludgeoned her with his
claw hammer, which he had taken out of
his suitcase. He then struck her with the
axe and a piece of stove wood to make
sure she was dead.
Speaking calmly and dispassionately,
Karnes went on tosay that after killing the
elderly rooming house operator, he had
gone to the bathroom of the house, where
he washed up and changed his clothes.
After that he made a hasty search for
money, and found $30 in the victim's
purse. Then he left Salem by bus for
Portland, and later went on to The Dalles.
Although Kames emphatically _ in-
sisted that robbery was his only motive,
authorites were convinced that sadism
had prompted the savage attack and
mutilation which cost Susan Litchfield’s
life, and that it was sadism as well which
had prompted the second, near-fatal
assault on Mrs. Innis in The Dalles.
On June 18th, Karnes appeared
’ before Circuit Judge Malcolm W. Wilkin-
son in The Dalles and pleaded guilty to
burglarizing the Innis home and attacking
Mrs. Innis with the claw hammer. For
these crimes he was sentenced to serve 15
years:in the Oregon State Penitentiary at
Salem.
He still had to answer, however, for
the crime of murdering his former
landlady. Early in August he was brought
to trial on this charge in Salem, and on
August 9th, the jury returned a verdict of
guilty, with no recommendation for mer-
: Albert Karnes was thereupon sentenc-
_ed to die in the gas chamber at the Oregon
State Penitentiary. The sentence was
carried out on January 30, 1953, and with
Karnes’ death, Salem police closed the
case on the murder which, even after the
killer’s confession, lacked anything like a
credible, clear-cut motive. 4o4
EDITOR’S NOTE:
Ed Wambley, Chub, Carl Preston,
Miss Powell, Mrs. Mary Robbins, Mar-
tin Forbes and Mr.and Mrs. Robert In-
nis are not the real names of the per-
sons sc named in the foregoing story.
Fictitious names have been used
because there is no reason for public
interest in the identities of these per-
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a
81
owe we a eT
age a pei egy
set me a whole
erplexity ;
iber Smith and
ver carried by
on the day of
scape
ere the guns and
t door; and 3—1s
ened
*,.
t
what the hell’s the matter with your”
A haunted look came in Jones’ eyes. He bit savagely at a
lower lip that threatened to tremble.
“I'll tell you, Kid,” he replied. “I’m figuring on adorn-
ing a marble slab tonight, and I want to look clean.”
The young prisoner regarded him with a puzzled air, and
then turned abruptly on his heel. Jones’ parting injunction,
uttered in a contemptuous, evil tone, was:
“And when you're getting ‘em, be d——n careful you
don’t talk.”
The young convict didn’t pretend to misunderstand Jones’
27
ast remarks or resent them. He
“merely hurried with all possible speed
to do as he was told.
At 5:30 p.m. Murray and his fellow plotters
answered the check-in call and marched to their re-
spective cells. The count call, a chanting, sing-song,
“kaaount” was given, and the men placed their hands
through the bars of their cell doors to be counted by the
cell house guard. But hardly had the guard passed by
Jones and Kelley’s cell, than the. convicts began writing
foreboding inscriptions on it’s walls. with a blue pencil.
“TONIGHT at six o’clock, I will leave this place dead
or alive,” Jones scrawled hastily.
“Give me liberty or .give me death,” was the sentiment
expressed by his cell-mate, who signed himself in large,
glaring letters “Crowbar Kelley.”
Did Oregon Jones have some forewarning premonition
that he would never leave the prison alive that beautiful,
warm summer evening? In the face of what he wrote on
the walls of his cell, and owing to the conversation that
took place with the young convict in the yard, it is my opin-
ion, that he felt a strong anticipation that something, un-
usually evil, was about to occur to him.
When the dinner gong rang at 6 p. M. instead of march-
ing to the messhall, the four desperadoes, their brains seeth-
ing with rebellion from the over-dose of marihauna, raced
up the tier stairs, quickly scram- (Continued on page 56)
‘The boiler room in which Tom Murray wotked while planning his last escape. “Here he exercised daily, secretly
going through a scries of calisthenics, training his muscles so when the great moment came they would not fail him
Satvdetatddudd ta
Fa ee a ee
56
bled on top of the fourth tier tank, and
knocked out the @pening on the roof.
Once on top of the building, they
walked swiftly across the roof of the
North Cell Block, Chapel and Women’s
Ward, and working with incredible
speed, hooked the rope they were
carrying, fast to the firewall, directly
over the Warden’s office.
Jones and Murray went down first,
their bodies hurtling at a tremendous
speed downward, and their hands be-
ing badly burned from skimming over
.the surface of the small Manila rope..
It happened that Warden Dalrymple,
who had just returned to his office to
write an important letter, was excited
by an unusual commotion outside, and
quickly stepping to the window, he
was stunned with mixed alarm and
amazement, when he saw Tom Murray,
with a knife in his hand, back Robert
Crawford, Flax Mill’ Superintendent,
who happened to be passing, into the
basement.
NO sooner had Murray’s feet touched
the ground than he met Mr. Craw-
ford, on the walk out in front of the
Warden’s office. Murray leaped at him,
waving a knife in a fierce gesture to-
wards his midsection, and rasping a
furious oath, said:
“Open that gate!”
Crawford tossed up his hands in a
helpless movement. “I can’t—the tower
guard controls the electric button.”
Murray’s face became swollen with
rage. He was unaware that the gate
was electrically controlled, and it was
his conviction that Crawford was ly-
ing to him. He grabbed the official
forcibly, but with a terrific thrust,
Crawford jerked away from the savage
convict and ran down the stairs into
the basement.
Murray made a wicked lunge with
the knife, then turned with lightning
speed and raced up the steps into the
Turnkey’s office, but Jones continued
after the official, intent with murder
and mayhem, for now the marihauna
was working in his system full blast.
At the moment Murray entered the
Turnkey’s office, there were in the room,
James Nesmith, 65 year old Turnkey,
John Davidson and Peter White,
guards, and unarmed. Murray, bold
and fearless, fairly jumped at a man
he hated intensely, Guard Davidson,
more popularly called “Slaughterhouse”
by the convicts, who was standing at
the door. Raising his old, but wicked-
looking knife over Davidson’s head, he
shouted:
“Give me the keys to the arsenal or
I'll cut your heart out.”
In answer, Davidson kicked at, Mur-
ray savagely, one of his big feet smash-
ing in the convict’s stomach, which sent
him sprawling across . the corridor.
Murray landed against the railing of a’
stairway leading to the basement and
narrowly missed toppling over, he
meanwhile snarling profane oaths, and
then Davidson grasping his momentary
advantage, raced out of the building
The Master Detective
No Prison Could Hold Him
(Continued from page 27)
with all the speed his legs were capable
of, meeting Jones at the steps as he
ran out.
Jones darted into the office and he
and Murray tackled Nesmith, the
former barking a savage curse, quickly
grasped a heavy cuspidor and slam-
ming it against the guards head,
knocked him out.
Pete White had, in the meantime, es-
caped from the office and started on a
desperate run towards the front gate.
There, he met Guard Carl Charleton,
who was apparently, trying his utmost
to get inside. Charleton called his at-
tention to Willos and Kelley, who were
just coming down the rope, and taking
their own sweet time about it. With a
rare presence of mind, White turned
abruptly, squarely facing the convicts,
and commanded the two to stand still
and put up their hands.
White had no gun and was merely
putting over a bluff with a forefinger
thrust sharply out of the pocket of his
coat.
Kelley’s two hands shot up in the air,
but Willos desisted.
“Who the hell are you?” he de-
manded, and started for the Southern-
most tower, Number six.
“T am Peter White,” the guard said,
hurling his words like a fist to Willos’
face. “And the hammer on this gun is
cocked, and my finger is on the trigger.
Stick ’em up.”
“Willos’ face was an_ inscrutable
mask, betraying no sign of emotion as
he waited for a space of a few seconds,
and then slowly he raised his hands.
Kelley felt his jaw muscles tense and
tighten, and a sickish sensation took
him in the pit of his stomach, He
turned to White nervously while he was
standing there with his hands up.
“Gee Pete, I didn’t think it would be
as bad as this.”
DURING the time that Kelley and
Willos were standing submissively
outside, being held up by a man with-
out a gun, Murray and Jones were in-
side working with incredible swiftness
to take possession of arms and ammuni-
tion. As soon as Nesmith was put out
of commission, Jones smashed the lock
off the arsenal door with the heavy cus-
pidor, grabbed a rifle, and went “hog
wild.” The prison fairly reverberated
with a crescendo of shots as he started
throwing searing bullets through the
North window of the Turnkey’s office at
Milt Holman, Guard on Number One
Post, who had heard the commotion
outside and stepped out on the plat-
form, facing the arsenal.
When Holman stepped out on the
platform, gun in hand, with almost
one movement, he raised it to fire. Be-
fore he could snap the trigger, however,
Jones, who was seeking him, shot
through the window glass and hit Hol-
man in the ankle. As the guard was
falling, gone registered another shot,
which ‘shattered Holman’s right arm,
just above the wrist.
Guard Sweeney, had in the meantime,
entered the post and secured another
rifle, with which he apparently was de-
termined to stop the wild:,break for
freedom. ee
Simultaneous with this a guard had
raced with all the energy in his com-
mand from the officer’s barber shop to
Post Number Six, and according to his
story, armed himself, but either Jones
or Murray, shooting from the turn-
key’s office, drove him to cover where
he was unable to do any shooting. His
story must be discredited, however, be-
cause the actual fact was, that as he
was sprinting up the tower steps, a
bullet clipped a piece of brick within
two inches of his head, and this was
enough for him. Thereafter, while the
break was in progress, he huddled his
body in a deep crouch in a corner and
stayed there, shuddering and whimper-
ing like a frightened child.
| ELLEY and Willos, all this time
with their hands up, were standing
outside listening and trembling a little
as the summer air was rent with the
ominous roars of heavy-caliber guns.
First there was a shot, a single shot, fol-
lowed a second later by a crashing vol-
ley. They wondered just what was
happening in there. And then suddenly
Jones appeared around the corner of
the building, covered White with a rifle.
and said to Willos and Kelley:
“Go on into the arsenal and get your
guns. It’s open.”
Jones then thrust his gun into White's
ribs with a murderous gesture. He stood
there, swaying slightly, face twisted
with a grimace, eyes bloodshot from
marihauna and breathing heavily—a
menacing figure. He gritted savagely.
“D——n you, open that gate!”
White never was more unpertured
during this deadly chaos, than at this
moment of crisis. He met Jones’ glare,
without blinking once and_ replied
calmly:
“How the hell can I, when I’m locked
in myself?”
Jones stared at him for a pause; then
grinned crookedly. “You're a game
guy, Pete,” was the convict’s tribute. “I
guess you can’t.”
In arming themselves for the final
dash for the arsenal’s arms, Murray
selected Mr. Miller’s 32-20 caliber Smith
& Wesson revolver. Jones took a pump
shot-gun and a 38 caliber Smith &
Wesson revolver, belonging to Guard
Frank Ferguson; Kelley and Willos
each took a rifle and revolver.
They ran toward Post Number One,
in line, under cover of a large oak tree,
which stood in the front yard near the
Post. Guard Sweeney started shooting
at them, and burned both Murray and
Kelley with close shots. Kelley fell
down within a few yards of the Post,
and it was believed for a moment he
was hit.
Almost at the same instant that Kel-
ley fell, Murray turned in time to see
John Sweeney fire. Murray brought
his gun up, aimed, fired and killed the
guard instantly with a shot from Mr.
\
Alurch, 1
Miller's
through
the revol:
lid was :
his face.
crumpled
under the
All fou
stairs an
Willos le:
front yar
Instead
through t
caping c
walk, do
of the big
Lute Sav
front of
from th
thought
a: mii
cellent hi
their flig
blazing ¢
“Come
called ou
you to a
Savage
in deep «
his reply
clear, dec
“Go to
M URR
rible
throat. |
acquired
the keen,
shrilly th
a groan «
in his a!
the groun
“Slaug!
meantime
board sor
as soon a
the corn
wounded
hip. Jor
where He
wall, blee
As Jor
shotgun,
of the
again to
ley bent
-.idol inte:
wide and
then he h
partner-ii
nervously
and not 1
Kelley
tongue gc
denly tw
a brutal,
bloodshot
Jerking
position,
red hell
shot alm
his shoul
a crimson
queerly-g:
In the
grim epis
gang to “
dead run
North of
Willos an
BR aA en nel
other
as ‘de-
k for
4d had
com-
1op to
to his
Jones
turn-
where
» His
er, be-
as he
eps, a
within
is Was
ile the
ed his
er and
imper-
s time
nding
a little
th the
euns.
it. fol-
iw vol-
t was
ddenly
ner of
a rifle.
ot your
White's
e stood
twisted
t from
vily—a
agely.
ertured
at this
.' glare,
replied
1 locked
e; then
game
sute. “I
he final
Murray
‘¢ Smith
a pum
smith
» Guard
Willos
ver One,
ak tree,
rear the
shooting
‘ray and
iley fell
he Post,
ment he
hat Kel-
1e to see
brought
illed the
rom Mr.
Murch, 1933
Miller’s 32-20. Sweeney was shot
through the right eye, the bullet from
the revolver striking him while the eye-
lid was raised, leaving no mark upon
his face. When the guard fell, his body
crumpled in an inert position, his head
under the stove.
All four convicts then rushed up the
stairs and into the Post, Kelley and
Willos leaving their rifles behind in the
front yard.
Instead of going down the stairs
through the floor of the tower, the es-
caping convicts jumped off the wall
walk, down onto the driveway, in front
of the big gate under Post Number One.
Lute Savage, Guard, was standing in
front of the garage, across the road
from the Post, unarmed, and the
thought instantly entered Tom Mur-
ray mind that he would make an ex-
cellent hostage to accompany them on
their flight to protect them from the
blazing gunfire of the other guards,
“Come on over here, Lute,” Murray
called out, “to where we are. We want
you to accompany us on a little trip.”
Savage hesitated a moment as though
in deep deliberation, and then suddenly
his reply floated over to Murray, ina
clear, decisive tone.
“Go to hell!”
M URRAY’S face darkened, and a ter-
rible oath rasped out from his tight
throat. He ube. leveled his newly-
acquired 32-20 towards the guard, and
the keen, deathly whine of a bullet cut
shrilly through the air. Savage uttered
a groan of agony from a gaping wound
in his abdomen, and slowly sank to
the ground.
“Slaughterhouse” Davidson, in the
meantime, had hidden behind a sign-
board some fifty yards up the road, and
as soon as Jones showed himself around
the corner of the post, he fired and
wounded the escaping convict in the
hip. Jones staggered and fell near
where Holman was leaning against the
wall, bleeding badly from a wound.
As Jones fell, Kelley grabbed the
shotgun, and after a hasty inspection
of the weapon, turned his attention
again to his companion and pal. Kel-
ley bent forward and peered at his
idol intently. Jones opened his eyes
wide and stared dazedly about, and
then he held out a shaking hand to his
partner-in-crime. Kelley grasped it
nervously in his.
“Goodbye, Crowbar,” Jones mum-
bled. “Tell the boys to play it careful
and not make it more than one.”
Kelley dabbed at his lips with a
tongue gone sluggish, and then he sud-
denly twisted viciously erect, his face
a brutal, insane mask, his eyes wild and
bloodshot.
Jerking the shotgun to a sidearm
position, he fired. A red blast oz.ened
red hell and earth, and the bunched
shot almost tore Holman’s head from
his shoulders. There the guard lay in
a crimson haze, kis body crumpled in a
queerly-grotesque position.
In the intervening time during this
grim episode, Murray yelled for the
gang to “come on” and he started on a
dead run toward the Asylum, situated
North of the prison, some quarter-mile.
Willos and Kelley raced after him, and
The Master Detective
<
ras .
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IRON
Ww
BILL
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oT
te
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OH _—
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le
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Davidson fired about six times more at
the fleeing convicts as they were run-
ning parallel with the west wall. ‘The
men escaped without further injury,
however, as the rifle he was using had
only open sights, and it was a notorious
fact that “Slaughterhouse” could shoot
good with peep sights only. Murray
and his gang owed their very life to
these defective sights.
As to who sent a bullet crashing
through Oregon Jones’ brain, and _kill-
ing him, immediately following ‘Mur-
ray’s and his companions run to the
State Hospital, will never be known for
a positive fact. Davidson claimed the
distinction of having fired the shot that
snuffed out the desperado’s life, but
some said that the shot came from a
revolver, so Jones may have committed
suicide with Ferguson’s gun, which was
found under his dead body with one
chamber exploded. It is an interesting
fact that a brief disconnected message,
scribbled in blue pencil on seven pages
of a note book, was found on Jones’
body as he lay dead outside the very
walls that he had sacrificed his life to
escape from, after he had: been wounded
by “Slaughterhouse” Davidson, at long
range.
The note read:
“T would like to see Dewey (a brother
in the prison). I love him. I love the
Jones, my people. I die game.
Oh, how | hurt.
] hate to die. | am shot—they will
hang me if I don’t. I shot myself.
Oregon Jones.”
THe remaining trio of fugitives con-
tinued their run to the Asylum, going
North past the prison barns, through
the berry patch and into the Asylum
yards near the laundry, with Tom Mur-
ray in the lead. A wave of nausea
swept over him as he realized the dis-
astrous results of -this break. There
must be no turning back now. He
must continue his murderous flight,
sweeping all opposition from his path
with deadly force and bullets. For leav-
ing a bloody trail behind him as he
fought his way from the penitentiary,
ending a siege and fight such as Salem
had never seen, there was no alterna-
tive but to continue his murderous on-
slaught. Disaster was staring him in
the face. But having killed one man,
he wouldn’t hesitate to kill another.
Mrs, ‘Alice Ogberg, employed at the
State Hospital, and C. V. Ivitts, an at-
tendent, was roughly accosted by Mur-
ray, Kelley and Willos, as the convicts
reached the Asylum grounds.
“Say lady, we've done an awful thing,”
Murray blurted. “We've just killed a
man at the pen. Come and show us the
highway. The guards will be right af-
ter us and they won’t shoot a woman.
Come along or we'll kill both of you.
We won’t hurt you if you come.”
A twinge of fear swept over the wo-
man’s face, and Murray then gruffly
told the women she could go, but jab-
bing viciously with his revolver, he
forced Ivitts ahead of him to a taxicab
that was waiting. The attendant had
just been discharged from the Hospital
staff by Superintendent Steiner, and he
had called the cab to take his belong-
The Master Detective
ings downtown. The fugitives ordered
Mr. Zinn, the taxicab driver, to let
them in the car and they also ordered
Ivitts to get in.
Under continual threats of death
which flowed like searing acid from
Murray’s lips, .Zinn was ordered to
drive West first, and then the erstwhile
convicts changed their course and drove
East to Pratum. .
That Zinn and Ivitts were not com-
pelled to remain in the automobile with
the desperadoes all night, was prob-
ably due to Zinn’s making the men be-
lieve that the car was most out of gas-
oline. Under their threats, he drove
them to a schoolhouse a short distance
East of Pratum, and about nine miles
from the prison. ,
Zinn kept telling the fugitives that he
was almost out of gasoline, and near
Pratum, informed them that the en-
gine was about to stop.
“Then drive behind that school-
house,” Murray ordered curtly.
Zinn did so with alacrity, and he and
Ivitts were ordered out of the car.
The convicts changed several articles
of clothing with them, and then tied
the two men to a tree and gagged them,
warning them under penalty of death
not to disclose where the convicts had
left the car. Soon after the fugitives
left, Zinn and Ivitts worked themselves
loose from their bonds and returned to
Salem in Zinn’s car, which Murray,
Kelley and Willos had believed was out
of gas.
Before leaving, however, the con-
victs had relieved Ivitts of $450, re-
turned $40 to him, and took several
dollars from Zinn.
Zinn kept his foot shoved down on
the accelerator all the way back to
Salem, swinging dizzily around curves
and city streets, and when the car was
stopped at the police station, perspira-
tion trickled in beads from his and his
“fare’s” forehead.
Zinn related this on his return:
“IT have seen a good deal of gun play
in my time, and have had some thrill-
ing experiences, but never anything like
I went through tonight.”
Thus ended the first act of a bloody
prison escape drama with Tom Mur-
ray playing the leading role, as a killer
fugitive from justice.
NOW back at the prison, a few inci-
dents relative to the break should be
mentioned.
When Warden Dalrymple glimpsed
Murray, knife in hand, from his front
window, he dashed through the south
end of his office to the corridor leading
to the turnkey’s office where the arsenal
was in jeopardy. The first sight that
struck his gaze was Murray and David-
son fighting. But instead of jumping
in the fray, to aid Davidson and Nes-
mith, he raced out again and hurried
to his residence, just beyond the walls,
where he secured a shot-gun, loaded
with birdshot, and when the convicts
dropped over the wall at Post Number
‘One, he opened up on them with the
gun. He scored several hits but the
shot was so small it did not deter the
escapes. P
One guard related afterward that he
first heard the disturbance while he
was getting a shave in the barber shop,
directly under the Warden's — office.
Springing from the chair, he hurri¢dly
wiped the lather from his face and
raced up the stairs to the hallway lead-
ing into the turnkey’s office, where he
met Jones, who was just thundering in
to aid Murray. He said that he at-
tempted to close and lock the door to
the oflice, but that Jones hit him a ter-
rific blow to the chin which sent him
reeling the full length of the hallway.
When he staggered up, Jones was in-
side, and realizing he could be of no
assistance in there, he sprinted to Post
Number Six, where he knew he could
get arms.
Still later, a guard admitted that he
had a_ revolver fully-loaded, in his
pocket all the time, and in the tremen-
, dous excitement, he forgot all about it.
Guard Wright Gardner, who helped
Holman down from Post Number One,
after the latter had been wounded, was
an excellent shot and ordinarily a very
cool-headed fellow under fire. But
somehow, he became extremely rattled
while the break was in progress. Per-
haps it was Murray and his gang that
made him that way. No one can an-
swer that question but Gardner.
There were at least four guns in Post
One, when the tower guard dropped
from a shattered arm, and all were
servicible, as proven later, yet Gardner
insisted there was not a weapon of any
kind in the post.
WHEN Mr. Miller made an inspec-
tion, ten minutes after the break, he
found one rifle, 32-20 Winchester; one
30-30 Winchester; (The one Holman
had been using) one pump shot-gun and
one .38 caliber Colts revolver. These
guns were regularly assigned to the
Post, with the exception of the 32-20
Winchester, which belonged to Lute
Savage, who had left it there while he
Was at lunch,
Gardner, after helping Holman down
from the post, ran to the Asylum, and
as he explained later, to warn the in-
sane people that the break had oc-
curred.
Another guard who was at the
Guard’s Quarters when the shooting
started, Was armed with a heavy caliber
revolver. Yet, he too, raced to the Asy-
lum, ahead of the escaping convicts,
and fainted after arriving there,
Guard 22 ran from the Guard’s Quar-
ters, scrambled to the top of the wall
and ran around to Post Number Three,
the farthest removed from the scene of
the break, where he secured a rifle. He
returned to Post Number Four, and see-
ing Ben Thompson, a convict life-
termer, who tended the power flume, he
immediately opened fire on him.
Thompson, instinctively, executed a
beautiful swan dive into the water to
escape the hail of lead that poured to-
ward him, and he stayed there un-
til the guard had left.
Another guard was eating supper at
the Quarters when the alarm was
sounded that the break was on. Fle
made a flying leap through the nearest
window and ran down to the strect car
tracks, about two blocks away, boarded
a street car and rode into town, two
miles distant, where he borrowed a rifle
March,
from a
the pris
He re
the last
at the p
After
capacit:
convicts
gates ai
was ab!
where h
charge «
One «
son, ser\
lected a
over tl
Office, a
could m
THES
the €
had the
any gre
Princ
“It m
me to c
the gua
witht!
Sweene:
lives in
break, ;
and tric
guard v
met the
met it.
parent
have he
who w
were or
Oreg:
nerve :
to bac!
told hi
with tl
abunda
Jones’
crazy \
key’s o!
crimina
ing.
Murr
were al
and th:
stopped
was as
After
badly
raving
driver,
pleade:
lowed 1
“Con
these gi
tell no
Mur:
metalli.
yards.
“Put
he con
killing
Fron
ee ee o
Dattle to Prove the
en English,
sought to Prove that
state’s star witness,
© as a truthful wit-
> tor Engtish sought
‘€S S$ confession read
idge G. V Cowper
ers and R. Johnson,
seCution, skillfully
that English had
‘or love of another
"ess took the stand
before the crime
Man and a woman
as & COmpromis-
rec
negro once ques-
amson a3 a Suspect,
‘cr picture to testify.
‘ered him $600 to
t the girl which
Placed on the
denied having
“glish also denied
an improper re-
woman. .
‘gh nine days of
mpletely to dis-
“ONS which daily
‘se to witness the
lv 18 the jury re-
tate of Stephen
ighttall they re-
tatetul verdict.
second degree!”
English heard
him to prison
Cars,
the names Jack
Nitchy, Ed Felder
“US story are fic.
nn
~. the objec-
and Strongly
militant pub-
Our jurispru-
‘da phrase as
_ It will not
eful Campaign.
idertaken, its
ce from two
civil liberties
rime than jn
sstbility ofa
ights,
ft organized
'ront of re-
s been ayail-
its might be
t removing
the profes-
worth the
d property,
ourts need
nably cer-
and rapists,
Xe quiring
sty doubts
of imagi-
it too Spa-
we caper a vn +o
Terror Trail of Oregon's Deadly Jail Breakers
[Continued from page 20]
Exposing himself further to get good
aim, Holman squeezed his trigger and
a slug tore through the flesh of Murray's
right arm. But in getting in the hit the
guard had exposed himself to Willos who
blazed away. Guard Holman fell
wounded, clearing the way for the mad-
dened convicts,
Cursing and panting, the convicts
scrambled up the stairway into the
tower. Murray appropriated the gun
that had dropped from the lifeless fingers
of Guard Sweeney. Looking down from
the tower the convicts saw that another
guard, Lute Savage, had appeared near
the prison garage,
Lying at their feet, the wounded guard,
who had seen his associate shot dead.
watched the desperadoes. He saw a gun
raised and knew from the whispers of the
four convicts that another guard faced
death.
“Come over here and make it quick,”
Jones commanded. He wanted Savage
with them for protection in the open. De-
fiantly, Savage opened fire. The convicts
returned the shots and the guard fell, seri-
ously but not fatally wounded.
Kelley, Willos and Murray dropped to
the ground outside the wall. Just as Jones
prepared to jump, “Slaughterhouse”
Davidson shot him, inflicting a critical
wound.
“Tell the boys to keep on going,” Jones
gasped. Apparently he did not know that
Sweeney was dead. He turned and calmly
shot the prostrate Holman through the
head, grasped Kelley's hand in a farewell
clutch and went into his death coma.
Leaving their dying comrade, Kelley,
Willos and Murray ran north on the road
leading to the state hospital for the insane.
a quarter of a mile distant. As they started
Warden Dalrymple emerged from his
home. He opened fire and struck Murray.
The “con” faltered, then regained his
stride and kept pace with his companions.
Seize Car
AY THEY reached the hospital, Mrs.
Z Alice Osgood, a nurse en route to her
home, met the trio. Murray, bleeding,
grasped her arms and forced her ahead
of them. A taxicab was in the driveway
of the hospital. C. V. Ivitts, an attendant.
was leaving its employ and had called the
cab to remove his belongings.
“Get that car going in a hurry,” Murray
ordered Zena J. Zinn, the terror-stricken,
middle-aged driver. Zinn knew trouble
when he saw it and obeyed in double quick
time. Murray released Mrs. Osgood and
then the three convicts fled with Ivitts
as a prisoner and Zinn at the wheel. The
cab hurtled down Center street toward
the Willamette river bridge leading to
Polk county.
Suddenly Murray snapped an order,
“We won't go this way. Take us east
toward Silverton and the hills.”
Six miles east of Salem is the little set-
tlement of Pratum. Two miles east of
Pratum, Murray ordered Zinn to halt at
the school house.
“We've got to have street clothes,”
Willos said. “You two guys give us
yours.”
Zinn and Ivitts surrendered their outer
garments. In addition $450 was taken
Wren ANSWERING A DVERTISEMENTS,
from Ivitts, of which $40 was handed
back, and $35 was removed from Zinn’s
wallet.
“Now listen, you two,” Kelley growled.
“We're going to tie you up and don’t you
be in too big a hurry to get loose.” The
three convicts disappeared and the foot-
hills, rendezvous of hunted men, swal-
lowed them.
Back in Salem, all was turmoil, Guards
Holman and Sweeney, together with
“Oregon” Jones, were dead. Guard
Savage was critically wounded, although
he eventually recovered, and Turnkey
Nesmith was badly beaten.
After the trio had escaped from the
prison vicinity in the taxicab, the search
had been directed toward Polk county.
Then came word from Ivitts and Zinn
that the “cons” had about-faced and fled
into the foothills.
Capture Hostages
"THEY had been hard men to keep in
prison, three of these four who had
made the break. Jones, Kelley and Murray
were among five men who escaped from
the penitentiary in March, 1924. All ex-
cept Jones were recaptured quickly and
Jones was cornered in Sacramento, Calif.,
about a year later. Murray escaped again
on August 4, 1924, but didn’t get far.
Kelley had broken out once before, get-
ting away in a load of sawdust in Sep-
tember, 1923, only to be retaken a few
hours later.
And now, on August 12, 1925, with
night settling down, three dangerous con-
victs roamed the shadowy foothills, des-
perate and armed.
Thursday passed and so did Friday,
Saturday and Sunday without an authen-
tic clue. All the law forces of the state
combined to hunt down three men.
But the rolling hills, with their inter-
mittent open spaces, rugged canyons and
patches of heavy timber, seemed unwill-
ing to give up the desperate trio,
It was 2 a. m. on Monday. August 17.
In the little community of Monitor Ore..
there were few lights other than those
that burned in the pool room and grocery
store. Four men were playing cards when
they saw three unshaven men stalk in, all
armed with shotguns. ,
“It’s all right,. men,” one of the in-
truders said. “I'm Murray and these fel-
lows are Willos and _Kelley. We're
hungry.”
Willos and Kelley were exploring the
store. The convicts took food, cigarettes
and money.
“Whose car is that outside?” Murray
inquired a good while later,
“It’s mine,” one man admitted re-
luctantly.
“Take us to Portland,” Murray said
abruptly. “We want all four of you men
with us. That’s the best way to keep vou
from calling the cops.”
About 5 a. m. the car developed trouble.
Near New Era, Murray ordered the
driver to turn down a side road. About
half a mile from the main highway, they
came to the farm of Charles L, Newman.
Leslie, the 17-year-old son of the farmer,
was asleep under a tree,
“Oh, it’s only a kid; don’t hurt him,”
Murray said.'“Be a good boy, son, and
don’t start trouble.”
Operator F
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PLease MrentiIon Novemerr Dynamic Derecrive 63
Fe
| KILLED A
GANGSTER
JAMES E. DENTON—
obscure oil worker—
who killed the “Dillinger
of the Southwest,” Read
his own dramatic story
of one of the greatest
captures in history—in
the November true.
ae
NOVEMBER
ISSUE
ON SALE AT
ALL NEWSSTANDS
The convict climbed through a win-
dow of the house. He aroused Mr. and
Mrs. Newman, and two of their children.
There ensued a day melodramatic from
dawn to far past dark. It was a strange
gathering. Picture them in that little farm
house, Three desperate convicts. The five
Newmans. The four men from the pool
room. Three men watching every move
of nine persons.
The convicts shaved and had break-
mat They smoked a good deal. Stubs
ittered the floor and Murray got a broom
and swept for Mrs. Newman’ He even
washed dishes for her and had a good
time joshing with the daughter. Willos did
card tricks. .
The tension lessened.
“You people go™about your regular
work,” Murray said. ‘We don’t want the
neighbors suspicious.” i
The father and the boys. worked in the
yard, all the while held in check by a
shotgun that peeped from between cur-
tains. A neighbor chatted over a fence
with Leslie. The boy even went to town
for the mail, Murray accompanying him,
Taken For Wild Ride
“‘\ X 7 E WANT to go to Portland now,”
Murray declared. “We'll take
Leslie to drive and we'll take one of the
card players, too. That will keep all you
people quiet until you know that we have
left them in Portland. If we are stopped
we'll kill them both.”
Then began a drive young Leslie will
never forget. While he drove, a shot-
gun caressed the back of his neck.
After five miles they came to Oregon
City. There are two routes from Oregon
City to Portland, fourteen miles north.
One is the Eighty-second street highway
to Portland’s east side residential dis-
tricts. The other crosses the bridge at
Oregon City to the west side of the
Willamette river. Once on the west side
the roads to Portland offer more oppor-
tunity to elude posses.
“We'll cross the bridge, son,” Murray
snapped.
“No—no,” Willos cried. “The papers
said the cops are at the bridge and that
there’s a chain across the road.”
“We'll shoot it out.” :
So Leslie, with the gun at his neck,
turned the car toward the bridge. Sud-
denly his hair literally stood on end, A
policeman in uniform, was on the side-
walk! If there were trouble, Leslie
feared, the convicts might make good
their threat to kill him. Then the danger
passed. The policeman, smiling serenely,
paid no attention to the car.
Once across the bridge, Portland was
reached without trouble. At an inter-
section in the business district, just skirt-
ing the more crowded streets, the con-
victs' fled from the car. Young Newman
and Wilde headed back to New Era.
Meanwhile, police were attempting to
pick up the trail of the men missing from
the Monitor pool room. Then they heard
from the Newmans.
Three dangerous convicts were at lib-
erty in a city of 300,000 persons. People
read about it in their morning papers.
It was a time of terror such as Port-
land has seldom experienced. Police
hoped*to bottle the men up in the city.
But they didn’t succeed.
Already Murray, Willos ‘and Kelley had
stolen an automobile, driven ‘to Hood
River, Ore., and crossed the Columbia
river to White Salmon, Wash. The fugi-
tives hid together until Friday when they
quarreled and decided to separate.
Murray went on his way. For some
reason he doubled back to Portland
and from there ‘made the fifteen-minute
trip to Vancouver, Wash., where he
boarded a freight train. He made the ac-
quaintance of a young fellow already on
the train.
“I’m heading north,” the youth, Phillip
Carson, replied to a question. “I just got
60 days for vagrancy in Portland but the
judge suspended sentence and told me to
get out.”
It is a strange thing about men who
have run afoul of the law, but they like
to be “big shots.” So did Murray.
“I’m Tom Murray,” he confided. “I
suppose you read how Willos and Kelley
and I got out of Salem?”
The two men got along well, except
once when Murray patronizingly lec-
tured Carson and decided to stage a
holdup in Tacoma. By the time they got
to Centralia, Carson had decided to “turn
in” Murray to the police. He induced him
to go to the Savoy hotel and wait while
he went out to get two men to aid in a
robbery. Instead Carson went to the po-
lice station.
“T want about 50 men,” he told the
officer on duty.
“So do we but the city can’t afford it.”
“Listen, wise-cracker, I’ve got Tom
Murray—Tom Murray, the convict, see—
in a hotel room. I want help.”
The officer sprang to action. A few
minutes later a night watchman named
Charles Pilling had agreed to act the role
of taxi driver and Mayor George Barrow
the role of accomplice. With Carson they
went to the hotel.
“These boys have agreed to help us,”
Carson told Murray.
Police Make Capture
PILLING stepped closer to the convict,
then suddenly whipped out a gun.
“Put ’em up, Murray,” he commanded.
There was a tense moment, then Mur-
ray grinned and said:
“Pretty clever.”
Murray was returned to Portland and
from there to Salem under heavy guard.
Authorities barraged Murray with
questions. Where were his companions?
He wouldn’t talk. But Carson supplied
a clue. Murray had told him of the split
at White Salmon.
For the first time officers had some-
thing definite on which to work. A party
of Multnomah county officers set out from
Portland for White Salmon.
They got news of the robbery of a store
at Bingen, Wash. They saw the tire tracks
of the automobile in which the men had
fled. They were on the trail!
At 3 p. m. on Saturday the four Port-
land officers saw where the tracks of the
automobile they were following led from
the highway eight miles east of Golden-
dale, Wash.
In a picturesque small cove, a fold in
the hills, the Multnomah county officers
came upon the men they were hunting.
Quietly they surrounded the place where
the men were resting.
Willos and Kelley surrendered without
resistance,
Tom Murray committed suicide in
prison before he could be hanged.
James Willos and Ellsworth Kelley
made a determined fight for life but lost
and so on April 20, 1928, some 32 months
after their bloody break for freedom,
Willos and Kelley died on the gallows.
Accepr No. SusstrtutEs! ALWAys INsIsT ON THE ADVERTISED BRAND!
x
. great many wi
timate marital em!
“outting up with
perience the true
many cases. the
take the trouble t
is ignorant himse
COMPLETES the =
and irritable. It hv
is not truly satisfied
His wife may
nobody is tooled
is “cold” when. 1
he does not Know
advances.
Many a home|
made happier whe
—_ Read
“SEX TEC!
Worth
“T would not take
not ten times its we
1 read this book {
saved me and my {
also probably wo
of my two childrer
divorce actions the
sider this book ons
today and helieve ¢
az ] am sure it
“Tam glad to p
privilege to aid ir
W oul
“Could 1 have
saved me many !
cf
| meer
1-0 MONDAY
Early Trial of Killer“of on :
_.ficer Sam Prescott Prom-' fea ‘
~~~ ised by-Judge H.-D. Nor-'- : > oo
ton — Grand Jury Will’ | my
Convene Next Mendy Af. |
ternoon.
* we +.
KINGSLEY, _James Egy > GAN i i Ore z0On SP (Jackson) on 10-30 1931.
a
"Walter K Kaas 7
1} wmv t
James ( Hinesley, whe SW Teck, had not reached the-
las¢ Saturday morning «hot
=
See i %
e and killeq Officer Sam Pre. "poiat where the plane was
ee ed him to retarn to the por : airmail pilot.
lice station bere for que- | The party was forced to
tioning, after he had faile! [|
to produce proper identifi-
~~ €ation fapers for the rar be
was driving, may face a
Jackson county fury om A ‘Since the plane has been
ee eevee Meares “se lefinitely ,
“withisthe next- three week«. efinitely identified as’ that
Next Monday morning the! own by Case, it is presum-
special grand jury called. tc in-.@d his hody will he found i in)
vestigate the Everett Dahack: th» wreek age. | |
killing, will start to probe the, Davis, fying toward Pasco,
circumstances surrounding the; Washington Wednesday after-
Prescott murder. Judge H. D.'noon, eny short: his ‘flight when |
Norton returned today from he sighted the wreckage of the
‘travel on horseback ane |
ifoot, and progress has heen
islow,
ae
ee ee ee ed
___cott when the latter nequest- Sighted by Al Davis, aes e
PS ‘Portland and announced that he. long-songht plane, Baldy Peak.
___._ Be. + favored the early réport of the. Hes in the Silver Star range .o*
ie grand ‘jury, and an early ¢ tri@, | mountains, which is so prominent
Tadicating that the trial eight; on the morthéast skyline as “view-.
be held within the next. ‘twoled from Portland.’ He returned
weeks, or Immediately the tndlet-; immediately to Portland, picked
ment is returned.’ ee ; ap two observers and flew back
_ _Eye-witnesseg to the killing,” over the area definitely identify-
_ including Mra, . Lester Batchelor: ing the plane. . )
of Valley View and her 12-year-' L. D. ‘Cuddeback,, vice presi.
“old gon, Allen, aug Earl Reming- dent of the Varney air lines or-
int ‘hiteb-hiker > ‘Compation © “of | dered a party. ‘be sent immediate-
3 Mere deerme on dees 6) Be be ” (Continued on. Page. 6) *
ae Neg ar Og te, - — were ~~
ima
Judge Glenn QO.
aylor Orders
risoner Held for-
Gand Jury Inves-
tiga
trict
Ask
| ior Specia!
- Session to Return
- Indictment. .
James C. Kingsley, who
,thet and killed Police Offic
er Sam Prescott here early
last’ Saturday morning, was.
wraigned before Judge Glen
0. Taylor this morning and:
;eld cvcr to the grand jury
n a first-degree murder
eu" oe
& Kar] Remington, who was
‘In the automobile with
-Xingslev at the time of the '0. left. James C. Kingsley;
}
‘murder, but, who apperent-
ly wae not impliented in tha
be 4 *
yi
SpA SAA OM: Rte aie sy
ho cantures
elow. fran,
’
i
the killer within
SO
alias J. C
ai hou
“¢
i
T)y. Sra
Perse OT
oe
4
v ‘ Ye.
s
. Adams, self-confessed slayer
TW oCity Ottcer Sam-Preseott;- right.~Herb Méora, etale traffic ofticer,
rvatter the tragedy cecurrid
of fatal slinotine wha ta tee
a
Rae are mee cee nent a ane ent ao apne heen ml ne Seen ye hae
-_———
pe
Ty
} +4
Pty Ves Vouny Offleer
Lerabt page]
MWOVORTPORE
Vo oainela exytene
Kingsley’g
Michie wag
al r \ H ;
LP espa. ‘a Mulboug
Climles of everstne
Tectia netioualy
| » culminating in
Cold- blooded murder of 8
Who gate
TO cheek the Prisoner jg
rriminal Career,
“Weare faced at the pres -
eot time with a wave of law-
ioe
peti sy ica Mal «Mb s rty
ow ee
“a*h
fear was. felt that the killer's
alleged. religtous fervor, and the
governar's iilners might pley a
lpart in the tragic drama and the
death sentence communted to life
mprisonment-
The action of the governor
Kives...Kingsleylece--- thee ~16
-houre--yet- to Hye. At: 8:36
o’clock tomorrow morning the
trap will be sprung. Prison «t-
tendants have the gallows in
readiness end for the last wee.
Kingsley has heard preperation
for his execution.
- it was on the morning of Jan-:
uary 24 of this year that Kings-.
‘Tey shot and killed Officer Pres-—
cott when the latter requested:
him to return to the police ste-.
tion when he was unable to show
satisfactory evidence of his own--
‘ership of the ear. The car had |
‘been stolen from a Salt Lake |
city man, whom Kingsley had
slugged and left for dead. Just |
previous to his Ashland crime!
‘Kingsley had shot and wounded |
a Seattle officer who attempted.
to place him under arrest. |
A jury found him gulity and’
he wag sentenced to hang April.
3p but a ‘petition to the state Bu-|
preme court for a certificate of
probable cause of error at that:
time saved him. The supreme:
court found no error in the case |
and refused a review of the mat-!
ter, and re-sentencing of the:
prisoner followed with executive;
clemency as the only hope. This!
denied, Kingsley faces death. !
a —
‘
}
i
&
4
re eee eres ote
‘Governor Meier ers Peetdace To
“Interfere Saying No New
_ Evidence’ Has Been Pre-
- sented To Justify Clem-
ency-Execution To Take
Place At 8°39 Tomorrow
Morning.
SALEM, Ore, Oct, 20—
(Pi Corl Meler denied the
petition of Jame« EF, K ingew-
ley for exeentive clemency
amd the hanying will take
Place atl 4:80 o'clock tomor-
row (Priday) morning ag
scheduled,
“After reviewing the case,
Gov. Meier declared he had:
2. NE alfernative but to-
Support: ‘the verdict of jury
AN: judgement ‘of the court.
PE UNG Dew evidence has eG
> been) presented whieh was |
not available when the jury iw:
oLecommended = hanging and
the judge: imposer the: pres
Geile sentene ¢ the “governor °
“stadae not tind. a “single vexten=
banter: Fine instance. Kingsley’ a
Precord. prior. (6 the homicide was
one ofsrepeuted parole yiplattong ‘
and nutderois crimes of. ever: gine
Stace
bine cold- blooded “murder ‘of
oprave, ‘young officer” “who ate Bess
tempted: fo cherk the prisoner in?
ae
wie ee
PWICKE =
| DEGRADATION. AND MM
TALL MAN KIND, FINAL MESS. AGE)
‘Exclusive Remarks ja ica tion In The Daily Tid-
--ings- Secured By Uiiited Press Representative At
: y- After Killer Learned Hope of
ware =a
“Has Kingsley gone?” ' - - Bgitae’s Neto: Asked by A OT
hia wuestion was asked i United Presa : bis
dozens of times this morn- tive at Salem, to write &
‘Ing, and wherever Ashiand | lew agotes exelusively fr
folks gathered together bee | The Daily Tidings, Mingsiey
fore 8:30 oclock this morn- | yesterday afternoon, after Op
ing, the sole topie of con- | had learned that he mut
vyersntion was the exceution (| hang, wrote the toilowing?
i. of the man who on the § By JAMS KINGSLEY -
ne eee nee
Nea MO Ne OPA My A a A Ne tt Nein mth Re CO OM OE
. be morning of January 24 of | (Writien exclusively ‘or Asbiand |
“i ahjs year shot and ailled | wel oa dings: } |
| Sam Preseott, popular locai Phere. in. a doudt {tg the
: . officer . world tit all misery and degra-
Le Whether. or.-.-aot the .} ‘%iller ; dation ara but the requits of Dur
would give way to motion, °*%3 wickeda: 988 aad folly, ‘Phe
oon | IndlviduaP’ syolea of U¥ali-
vynether hig iron nerve would: individuad’s.gwa cadice of J
|“ nold in thea face of deatl | whath-} acod ig Mi Aas, < eontribaias to this
‘ay he would reiterate his falga:* country iiy“seenes lor crueity and
lin Christiaaity, were. all ques- : heinous erie.
cons whieh were discussed. j Wea taix of a sta bie node
Lt — ; a
J P 7 ‘ 2
folks that Kingsley was not gin-' OF net do a premedi tated —act |
cere in his religious fervor and however the temptations ‘may: be
Shethar or not this faith would; T° deny this is to contradict pur:
‘ ~ye—maintained—-te—-the— gahows- own conacience. it is. our: liberty.
ee
wags the question. . of wilh that mak 2% Us mediaere . ‘
. men or utatsauiide among’ “all
oe ee
(After 8:30 there were’ nuUM-) nonyind. Sverywhere we “ook |
erous calls receivad irom those we see bli nd _obedianece to “laws |
who feared thera might bea
por nature, - The- seasons, sweat :
last minute reprieve. for: thet: her.
y
=f “aun, moon, “hight” and: day; ~the4
n er. poceaa, tida are all illustrdtive of}
ef ” Many expressions of auprecias compulsory obedience. Man{ is the}
{tion for the decision of Gov.}only one who can*do* as he
n{Meler, and the reasoning which !——
aj he presented — -in—his—refusat—te|
a} interfere. in the case, were
“néeurd™ CR eee
| Sam. Prescott . was - “killed _ on!
January 24 when he stopped:
\Kingsley—to A nedire._20..to—. the,
ownership of the car Kingsley) o-
omy betsy ier Feoeygeq qo ot ntary ages!
eo a
: J
“| Am Ready To Go,” Last
Words To Warden—Life!
Extinct Eleven Minutes |
After Trap Sprung, 8:30.)}
SALEM, Ore. Oct. 30—(AP)—
James E. Kingsley, 25, paid the ex-
“y Prescott, Ashland police officer. He
‘was hanged this morning at the
state penitentiary. The trap was
sprung at 8:30. tiniest ‘
Dr. R. L. Edwards, prison physician
announced Kingsley dead eleven
minutes later. Fes SP u
Kingsley failed to.eat breakfast
this morning, but mounted the scaf-
\|fold calmly. He made no statement.
Kingsley entered the execution
chamber and climbed the 13 steps
leading to the gallows accompanied
by two guards and the prison chap-
lains. The trap was sprung at 8:30,
and Kingsley..was, pronoyced dead
eleven minutes later. Kingsley. macie |
no formal statement, either written |
or verbal, during the few hours pre-
ceding the executiou.
Refused Breakfast
Officials declared that Kingsley
slept soundly for four hours lash
night, but that he had refused to
accept food since noon yesterday.
ay) The body was turned over to Coro-|:
| ner Rigdon. Kingsley's only relatives)
Sa Seattle and a brother in Bellingham.
i More than 65 persons, witnessed
{the execution, including a_ large)
'number of police officers from vari-
‘ous sections of the state.
his incarceration in the prison, and
had not requested any special or un-
reasonable courtesies.
Religion Unaccepted
Kingsley ' refused to accept any
religious faith, although Father
Keenan of the Salem Catholic church
spent much of the night with the
prisoner. ;
“I am ready to go,” were Kingsley’s
‘on the Pacific coast are an uncle in).
3 Warden Lewis declared that Kings-
ley had been a model prisoncr during |’
last words ‘to Warden Lewis, who
xed with him a few minutes be-
earn) t ta
v “, fore the exccution. ae
SALEM, Ore., Oct. 20—fAP)—The
execution of Jarors BE. Kinsley, 25,
today was the [ist ay che stcte pent-
fontiory here slice the doubie hang-
ing of Ellsworth Kelly and James
'Willos more thaw three and a hall
Youre akos’ Keily nic Willos were
executed for the murder of prison
jmearas during the soo ational peni-
ry break in’ 2025,
: pley wa serceneceed to death
rope Ta i} Sie ne 6 ay fof. Jackson
Pe Jowlne ibs conviction o
pe hit depiete murder charges for the
iba: of Sian ieescott, Asikind po-
Prescotio Was shot ane
mary 2h, iat, when he
fatopped Misicsley aid questioned hun
Yelutive lo the title of the ear he was
ariving, Kingstey was in a stolen
car, He was captured shortly after-
Given Speedy
ciate
HVT Sieters : dE SH
pe Kingsley falled to cat breakfast
| this morning, but mounted the scat-
| Kinfsiey “entered the execution
(chamber and climbed, the | 13. steps
leading. to the g ullows accompanied
lains. The trap was sprung at 8:30,
and Kingsley was pronounced dead
eleven minutes later. Kingsley made
no forninl statement, either written
or verbal, during the few hours pre-
ecding the execution.
Refirsed Breakfast
Officials declared that Kingsley
sient soundly for four hours last
Night, but that he had refused to
The vody was turned over to Coro-
ner Rigdon. Kingsley'’s only relatives
on the Pacific coast are an uncle in
Seattle and a brother in Bellingham.
More than 65 persons witnessed
{the execution, including a large
‘umber of police officers from vari-
| ous sections of the state.
.! Warden Lewis declared that Kings-
filey had been a model prisoner during
{his incarceration in the prison, and
‘had not requested any special or un-
;rensanable courtesies.
j Ustigion Unaccepted :
{ Kingsley refused to accept any
relistous falth, althouyh Father
| Keenan of the Salem Catholic church
;spent much of the night with the
prisoner,
| “I'am ready to go,” were Kingsley’s
,last words to Warden Lewis, who
talked with him a few minutes be-
fore the execution. .
SALEM, Ore., Oct. 30.—(AP)—The |
exccutlon of James E. Kingsley, 25,
_ today was the first at the state peni-
tentixry here since the double hang-
ing of Ellsworth Kelly and James.
Wilios more than three and a half
years ago. Keily and Willos were
executed for the murder of prison
vrés during the sensational peni-
tentiary break in 1925.
Kingsley was sentenced to death!
by Judge H. D. Norton of Jackson
county following his conviction of
first degree murder charges for the
killing of Sam Prescott, Ashland po-
lice officer, Prescott was shot and
Killed January 24, 1931, when he
‘opped Kingsley and questioned him
relative to the title of the car he was
driving, Kingsley was in a stolen
car. He was captured shortly after-
Glven Speedy Trial
At a speedy trial Kingsley was
wand gulty and sentenced on Feb-
3 ruray 9 to hang April 3. On March
4*|27, one week before the time for the
" execution, he was granted a stay of
“1execution.on an appeal to the Ore-
sw. supreme court. He was resen- |
cog - September 23. after the su-!
court affirmed - the, lower |,
‘fold calmily.y:He made no statement.
by two guards and the prison chap-h,
Acespl food since noon yesterday. }
Yad Crip
nina
ties og eae
wh Kingsley'g Telatives
Kia aitentiary offi.
sf ey had sald
© Seattle police
Cle
In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted