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The Harry Thaw & Stanford White case of 1906 is perhaps one of the most famous cases of the 20th Century in terms of newspaper coverage and books written. The case had all the elements a lasting true crime story requires: high society, famous people, sex, jealousy, and cocaine. The following story was published in 1910.

Story by Thomas Duke, 1910
“Celebrated Criminal Cases of America”
Part III: CASES EAST OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

Stanford White was born in 1852, and after receiving a college education in America, his father sent him to Europe to study architecture.

When he returned to New York he became a member of the firm known as McKim, Meade & White. He advanced rapidly in his profession, until he was considered one of the greatest architects in America. He drew the plans for the famous Madison Square Garden in New York, where he subsequently came to a tragic end.

Although he had an estimable wife residing in Cambridge, Mass., and a grown son who was at the time attending Harvard College, White had a suite of rooms in the tower of the Madison Square Garden, which he called his studio, but where he gave a great variety of spicy entertainments.

Frequently his guests were girls of tender years. One of the “events” in the tower was a stag dinner, and when the time for dessert arrived an immense pie was brought into the room. Suddenly a beautiful 15-year-old girl, scantily attired, burst through the crust, and after posing for an instant, she joined the guests.

It was claimed that this girl afterward became one of White’s victims.

Evelyn Nesbit was born near Pittsburg on Christmas Day, 1884. Her father died when she was 12 years of age, and about three years later her mother, who has been referred to as a frivolous and extravagant woman, married a Pittsburg broker named Charles Holman.

As Evelyn was a remarkably beautiful child she earned considerable money by posing for artists in Pittsburg and afterward in New York. She subsequently became a chorus girl.

In the spring of 1901 Evelyn met a wealthy married man named James Garland, and shortly afterward she and her mother were his guests on a yachting trip.

Later Mrs. Garland sued her husband for a divorce and Evelyn Nesbit was said to have been mentioned as the reason.

According to Evelyn’s own statement a young woman friend invited her to dinner in New York in August, 1901, and without having the slightest idea as to where she was going to dine, Evelyn was inveigled by this girl into the studio in the tower where she met Stanford White for the first time.

About one month after the first meeting, White invited her to the tower at the conclusion of the Florodora performance in which she was a chorus girl.

She claimed that White represented that three other girls would be in the party. When Evelyn arrived at the studio White stated that the other girls had disappointed him, but he invited Evelyn to remove her hat and take a glass of champagne.

She reluctantly accepted the invitation, and after partaking of the wine she immediately lost consciousness. When her mind again cleared she found herself in the bedroom of the suite, the walls and ceiling of which were covered with mirrors.

Realizing that an assault had been committed upon her, she became hysterical, but White finally succeeding in pacifying her and then exacted a promise that she would never tell her mother of what had just transpired.

For several months afterward White met Evelyn clandestinely and the intimate relationship continued. In the meantime he was introduced to Evelyn’s mother and won his way into her confidence. Posing as the protector of the family he rendered financial assistance to Evelyn with the mother’s knowledge and consent.

William Thaw was one of the most prominent men in Pittsburg, and when he died he left an estate valued at $35,000,000, to be distributed among his family, consisting of Mrs. Thaw and several children.

Among these children was Alice Thaw, who married the Earl of Yarmouth, but was subsequently divorced; and Harry Kendall Thaw.

The latter was a wild, eccentric youth with such extravagant habits that his father provided in his will that Harry should receive only a monthly allowance. He had a penchant for chorus girls, and in that manner met Evelyn Nesbit some months after her first experience with White in the tower. They became very friendly, and Thaw showered her with tokens of his regard.

About this time White gave a dinner to which several guests were invited, including Jack Barrymore the actor, and Evelyn Nesbit. According to Evelyn’s statement, Barrymore afterward proposed marriage to her, and as White was apparently jealous of the young man, he suggested to Evelyn’s mother that the girl be sent to Mrs. De Mine’s private school in New Jersey.

As the mother was also opposed to Barrymore she readily agreed to White’s suggestions.

While at this school Thaw and White were such frequent visitors that there was considerable gossip among the pupils regarding their relations with Evelyn. About this time she underwent an operation for appendicitis, but as soon as she recovered she returned to New York, where she resumed the improper relationship with White, the meetings usually taking place in the tower after her night’s work at the theater. During this time White was contributing liberally toward her support.

In the early part of 1902 she discontinued her intimate relationship with White, according to her statement, but when she and her mother left for Paris a few months later as the guests of Thaw the girl had in her possession a letter of credit from White.

After Evelyn and her mother traveled in Europe a few months with Thaw, the mother and daughter had a violent quarrel, which resulted in the former returning to America, leaving Thaw and the daughter alone. The pair then traveled under assumed names as man and wife.

According to Evelyn’s statement she and Thaw were in Paris in June, 1903, when Thaw proposed marriage to her. She claimed that she hesitated and finally answered “No.”

When pressed for a reason for her refusal, she stated that she then confided to Thaw all of her relations with White.

Evelyn returned to New York on October 25, 1903, and was followed by Thaw in November.

On October 27 Evelyn met White by appointment and went with him to the law office of Abe Hummel.

In this office a lengthy affidavit was prepared in which it was charged that while on the trip through Europe Thaw frequently beat Miss Nesbit until she became unconscious, and that his reason for so doing was because Evelyn had refused to make an affidavit to the effect that White had drugged and outraged her, she, according to the affidavit, stating that such a statement would be false. The affidavit further alleged that Thaw was a cocaine fiend and that Miss Nesbit found a hypodermic syringe in Thaw’s bureau and saw him swallow cocaine pills.

Although Evelyn Nesbit signed this statement she afterward claimed that she had been wilfully misquoted and that while she signed a paper some days later at the tower, she did not know its contents at the time. A. S. Snydecker afterward swore that Miss Nesbit read the paper carefully before signing it.

When Thaw returned from Europe Evelyn told him of this incident, and at Thaw’s request the affidavit was subsequently burned in Hummel’s office in Evelyn’s presence, but Hummel took the precaution to have it photographed first, and this photograph afterward became one of the principal exhibits in one of the most sensational murder trials in the criminal history of America.

After the affidavit was burned Evelyn ceased to associate with White and devoted most of her time to Thaw. They registered at several hotels in New York, but were requested to leave.

According to a statement made by Ben Bowman, an employee at the Madison Square Garden, White called after the performance on December 28, 1903, and inquired if Evelyn Nesbit had gone home.

When informed that she had, White pulled out a revolver and swore that he ‘would kill Thaw at once. Bowman related this alleged occurrence to Thaw shortly afterward.

After much persuasion Mrs. Thaw consented to her son’s marriage, and he and Evelyn became man and wife in Pittsburg on April 4, 1905.

A few months later Thaw visited Anthony Comstock, Superintendent of the Society for the Prevention of Vice in New York, and reported that White was using his suite in the tower as a trap for young girls.

An investigation was instituted, but no tangible evidence was obtained. Thaw did not mention his own wife’s experience.

Mrs. Harry Thaw claimed that after she was married she saw White a couple of times and he attempted to annoy her by his attentions. She related these incidents to her husband and also told him that a Miss Mabel MacKenzie had informed her that White had openly boasted that he would get her (Mrs. Thaw) back from Thaw.

On the evening of June 25, 1906, Thaw and his wife and Truxtun Beale, formerly, of San Francisco, had dinner at the Cafe Martin in New York. While they were dining, White and his son passed through the cafe, and Mrs. Thaw called her husband’s attention to the occurrence.

After dinner the Thaw party proceeded to the Madison Square Roof Garden, where the play “Mam’zelle Champagne” was being produced.

Presently White entered alone and took a seat within view of the Thaw party. Harry became very restless and began walking about the place. Finally Mrs. Thaw suggested that they leave and the party proceeded to do so, Thaw apparently following the remainder of the party.

When he reached the table where White was seated Thaw suddenly turned, and facing White he drew a revolver and fired three shots, the first bullet passing through White’s eye into the brain, causing instant death ; the other two producing superficial wounds.

Thaw immediately surrendered to an officer, to whom he stated: “I killed him because he ruined my wife.” Mrs. Thaw rushed up and after embracing her husband asked him why he did it. He replied: “It’s all right, I probably saved your life.”

Three days later Thaw was indicted for murder. January 23, 1907, was the date set for the trial in Justice Fitzgerald’s court. District Attorney William T. Jerome personally prosecuted the case, and D. M. Delmas, the celebrated San Francisco attorney, appeared as chief counsel for the defense.

Nothing of importance which has not already been briefly related in this narrative was brought out by either side. Mrs. Harry Thaw testified in accordance with the statements previously made by her.

It was the contention of the defense that Thaw was in-sane when he killed White but that he became rational afterward.

During the trial District Attorney Jerome asked that the jury be excused. He then requested that a commission be appointed to ascertain the condition of the defendant’s mind. His request was finally complied with, and after a lengthy examination the commission reported that Thaw was sane at the time of the examination. The trial was then continued.

On April 6 the arguments began. Delmas charged that Evelyn Thaw’s mother received the wages of her child’s downfall, with which she bedecked herself with diamonds and finery and afterward assisted the prosecutor of the girl’s husband.

Jerome referred to the tragedy as a mere, sordid, Tenderloin homicide, and referred to Mrs. Thaw’s testimony as a tissue of lies invented to prevent a deliberate, cold-blooded murderer from being put under ground.

The case was finally submitted to the jury on April 10, 1907, but after deliberating for forty-seven hours the jurors decided they could not agree and were discharged.

Seven jurors believed the defendant guilty as charged, while five voted for an acquittal on the ground of insanity.

On January 6, 1908, the second trial began before Justice Dowling. On this occasion M. W. Littleton represented Thaw, and produced evidence tending to show that Thaw had inherited insanity.

, On February 1 Thaw was found not guilty on the ground that he was insane when he killed White. He was immediately transferred to the asylum for the criminal insane at Matteawan.

In July, 1909, Thaw attempted to procure his release on a writ of habeas corpus. The case was heard before Justice Isaac Mills, at White Plains, New York, and Jerome again represented the State.

Several alienists testified that Thaw was a degenerate paranoiac and would never recover.

Mrs. Susan Merrill testified that between 1902 and 1905 she conducted in succession two lodging-houses in New York where Thaw rented rooms under assumed names and to which he brought at various times over one hundred girls. Thaw represented that he was a theatrical agent, and Mrs. Merrill stated that on several occasions she caught him lashing the girls on the bare arms and bodies with a whip. Mrs. Merrill further testified that Thaw had subsequently provided her with money to purchase the girls’ silence, one of them receiving $7,000.

Clifford Hartridge, former counsel for Thaw, then took the stand and produced a whip which he testified had been delivered to him by Mrs. Merrill and a woman named Wallace.

On August 7, 1909, Thaw’s attorney, in his closing argument, accused Evelyn Thaw of secretly assisting Attorney Jerome during the case then drawing to a close.

On August 12 Justice Mills dismissed the writ of habeas corpus and declared that the release of the petitioner would be dangerous to public peace and safety and that he was afflicted with chronic delusion insanity. Thaw was then re-turned to the asylum.

In a suit to recover $92,000 from the Thaws for services alleged to have been rendered, Attorney Clifford Hartridge testified on April 1, 1910, that he paid hush money amounting to $30,000 to feminine acquaintances of Harry Thaw. He further testified that a woman named Mrs. Reed, whom Thaw met at Mrs. Merrill’s, received $5,000.

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Jim Quillen, Reformed Alcatraz Inmate & Author

After a wild crime spree of robbery and kidnapping in 1942, escaped San Quentin prisoner Jim Quillen was sentenced to 45 years and sent to Alcatraz on Aug. 28 where he became prisoner #586.

When he arrived on Alcatraz, he was an angry and bitter young man with a “maladjusted attitude.” He grew up never really knowing his mother and after a prison minister tracked her down, only to discover that she had died recently and was buried in a pauper’s grave, something changed in Quillen. With no hope of ever getting free, he began a rigorous course toward self-improvement. His attitude changed 180 degrees and he began working in the prison hospital where he sought and received training as a radiology technician.

He was transferred to San Quentin in 1952 where he became a certified radiology technician. He was eventually released and although he steered clear of crime, his personal life was a roller coaster for many years. Eventually, he met the right woman and had daughter.

In 1991 he published his memoirs, Alcatraz from the Inside, 1942-1952. His bitter attitude toward authority and seeming disapproval toward prison officials, who were merely doing their jobs according to 1940s standards, comes through in the book and was noted by book critics.

Quotes from his record before his reformation: “Subject is impulsive and seems to think himself a “Big Shot” because of his long sentence.” “Subject is a Bitter Youth” with a “Maladjusted Attitude”.

From Publisher’s Weekly, 1991: Quillen’s autobiography focuses on his decade-long incarceration at the “Rock,” the former federal prison on Alcatraz Island, Calif., including the 1946 escape attempt that left several inmates and guards dead. Arguing that the brutality of the system made the bloodshed inevitable, he calls Alcatraz “a prison where the sole purpose was to degrade, deprive, humiliate and break the inmates.”

But Quillen never proves his case; most of his anger arises from the constant surveillance and security that made escape virtually impossible. Indeed, what comes through the author’s deliberately low-key account is the fervor with which he thought about, dreamed about and planned escapes. A veteran of two escapes from a state reformatory as well as one from San Quentin prison (during which he kidnapped two hostages), Quillen did try to escape from Alcatraz.

Most readers will find it hard to empathize with his complaints of overly restrictive security given that record. Ultimately, however, the details of life inside jail are more intriguing than the failed attempt to blame the system. Those details, and the story of Quillen’s eventual rehabilitation after release, redeem the book.

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The Mass Murder of Six People in a Washington Cottage

Story by Sam D. Cohen, for his syndicated column Today’s True Detective Story, “Killer of Six Captured, Brutal Murders are Solved,” July 11, 1941, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Peach Section, page 2.

ON A SATURDAY in March 1934, Tom Sanders stepped out of his Erland Point, Washington cottage and glanced around. He had been annoyed by the howling of dogs nearby. The mournful cries came from the Flieder cottage, a short distance away. Here he went, and to his surprise, discovered that the howling came from a large sedan parked in the rear of the cottage. There were three white poodles and when he opened the door they leaped at him with frantic gestures of joy.

Sanders glanced at the house and though the day was cold, no smoke came from the chimney; the blinds were all down but not all the way. The powerful beam of his searchlight cut through the darkness and he saw a card table and chairs. Then he recoiled in horror. Sprawled on the floor on either side of the table, were two bodies—those of a man and a woman. Sanders hurriedly phoned the authorities, and 10 minutes later Kitsap County under-sheriff Rush Blankership and another officer appeared.

The officers were aghast at what they found. Not only were the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Flieder discovered but four more still forms —Mr. and Mrs. Chenovert, Bert Balcom and a Mr. Jordan. All the victims had been well-known locally and they all lay dead—murdered. Bullet wounds and heads bashed in with a bloody hammer found on the floor gave a clear picture of how the crimes had been accomplished. Marks on the woman’s fingers, empty pocket books and wallets gave the motive of the brutal murders—robbery.

Dragnet Out

A HUGE dragnet was thrown out at once. Orders were issued immediately to bring in anyone showing signs of being in a struggle or whose clothes appeared to be bloodstained. Results from this widespread move came almost immediately. A dozen suspects were brought in for questioning, but in every instance they were able to prove either that their wounds had been incurred prior to that fatal evening in March, or could give a satisfactory explanation for them.

Meanwhile, an autopsy had been performed on the bodies. In every ease where the victims had died immediately, the killer had made sure he would not testify against them by deliberately cutting their throats. Public indignation rose to fever heat and the authorities redoubled their efforts to locate the slayers.

Weeks, months passed, and as the killers’ trail grew cold it began to look as if Washington’s most sensational crime would never be solved. And so it might have been—except for one thing: the magnitude of the crime. Thus it was in January, 1935 when William Severyns became the new sheriff, and one of his first official acts was to call in his chief criminal deputy, 0. K. Bodia, and instruct him to work on the case. It was a tough assignment and Bodia knew it. The best detectives in the Northwest had worked for months and failed. Nevertheless, he eagerly tackled the job.

Dropping into a beer parlor in downtown Seattle one afternoon in early September, he noticed two men in earnest conversation. Suddenly he heard a reference made to the killing and a man’s name mentioned several times, with his address. The man was Leo Hall, 710 Columbia Street. Making quiet inquiries he learned that there were three brothers, Leo, Gus and Bob: Leo was the oldest, 33: then came Gus, 26, and last Bob, several years younger than Gus. As it turned out, Leo had disappeared and could not be found.

Probes History

Leo Hall

The deputy’s suspicions were now fully aroused and he determined to probe the man’s history thoroughly. Going through police records, he found that back in 1932, Leo Hall bad been arrested for automobile theft and that while trying to escape had been shot by an officer. The wound had proved almost fatal and because of that fact, and his youth, he had been given a suspended sentence. He learned also that Hall had been quite friendly with a bootlegger than held in the county jail on grand larceny charges.

Bodia next visited the “pal,” Larry Paulus, and then casually mentioned Hall.

As the name dropped from the deputy’s lips, Paulus stiffened and his face became grim. “A swell pal he turned out to be,” he sneered. “First he promises me smokes that never come and then while I’m tight in stir, he runs out with my wife. But he better watch his step—I’ve got enough on him to burn him, plenty.”

Carefully hiding his elation, the deputy prodded him on and on. The convict required little prodding. “I’m talking of those six killings,” he stated. “If you want to learn more you’ll have to ask my wife. I heard her talk of it in her sleep and she mentioned Hall’s name.”

But the fugitive proved as elusive as an eel. As for Peggy Paulos it did not take much pressure to make her open up, and then with a dramatic suddenness that cracked like a whiplash, came the announcement: Peggy Paulos had confessed. The sensational case was at last broken wide open! The news was carefully suppressed from the public and the hunt for Hall pushed with redoubled vigor and another break in the case came.

A man walked into police headquarters in Portland, OR and asked to see Captain Keegan. He said he had recently invented a new automobile carburetor. Needing capital to finance the device, he met a Mr. Stuart, who claimed to have plenty of money. Stuart had immediately professed a great interest in the invention and asked for a demonstration. But when they started out, instead of wanting to drive over the regular highways, he had insisted that they turn into unfrequented roads. This fact and something in Stuart’s manner caused the inventor to fear that the man was intending to kill him and take his car.

Assuring the man that he would be protected, Keegan told him to arrange another appointment with Stuart at the same place the following day. This was arranged and when the man stepped up to join him, Detectives Malchorn and Eichenberger sprang out of concealment and seized him.

Chief Suspect Located

Mr. Stuart was Leo Hall, their chief suspect.

Deputy Bodia left immediately for Portland and returned with the prisoner who refused to admit his guilt. Betty Burns was once more picked up and asked to repeat her story. Under the guidance of Detective Captain Yoris she began her confession, one of the most extraordinary ever filed among criminal records. It was a story of how one man, with only a woman’s assistance had held up and later had taken the lives of six human beings.

Haltingly, in a low voice, she told of mentioning to Hall that the Flieders had money. He suggested they rob them. Thinking it a joke, she had agreed to meet him downtown the following day, but when he went to his safe deposit box and took out a pistol and a hammer, she became frightened and tried to draw back, but Hall wouldn’t listen.

He had forced her to accompany him and again and again he threatened.

Here, as she told of entering the house and began to approach the dreadful events that later transpired there, it became apparent she was nearing a breakdown. Haltingly, she had managed to describe how they had bound the victims and searched them, but as she came to the point when Hall had begun killing them in cold blood, she broke down completely. Sobbing wildly, hands pressed tight over her eyes as if to shut out that horrible vision, she cried again and again.

“Oh, it was terrible—terrible! I didn’t know what to do. I ran out and he shot at me.”

Since that moment, she said, she had lived in agony. A week later Hail located her and warned her that if she breathed a word of what had happened that night he would kill her, too. Tortured by her conscience on one hand and fear of Hall on the other, she had remained silent until she could do so no longer—until she had either talk or go mad.

On December 9, 1935 the pair faced trial. The jury deliberations were brief. Only one ballot was required to reach a decision: Betty Burns was acquitted and Leo Hall was found guilty of first degree murder, with recommendations that he receive the death penalty.

Three days later, Hall appeared in court with his counsel to ask for a new trial. It was refused and after Superior Judge H. G. Sutton had pronounced sentence, death by hanging, the veteran jurist remarked: -“The evidence in this case was the strongest and most conclusive I have ever listened to.”

Hall heard the sentence calmly, displaying the same stoical indifference he had exhibited alt during the trial.  He was executed by hanging on Sept. 11, 1936.

Leo Hall

Photo Credit, Washington State Penitentiary via Historylink.org

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Originally Published as: “Want to See an Execution?” by Allen Rankin, Front Page Detective, April, 1956.

It was a bright moonlight night. I was 22, and, as I cruised out the Wetumpka Highway in the new family car, I clicked on the radio. Kay Kyser was playing Stardust. I had a heavy date—to see four men die.

“Want to go to a barbecue?” my city editor had asked me that morning. “If nobody else wants to,” I’d said, trying to look as grave and reluctant as possible, but inside I was elated. By “barbecue” the editor meant an electrocution at Kilby Prison a few miles from Montgomery—and this one was going to be the second largest execution in the history of Alabama.

Millions of people would like to witness an execution if given the chance—or they think they would. This was my chance. The assignment meant I had arrived as a full-fledged reporter, no longer to be considered a cub, but driving out to Kilby on the night of June 8, 1939, I was worried about how I would react to the legal, scientific killing of four men. Some reporters got sick at electrocutions; some fainted.

“This your first barbecue?” asked George Meeker, the police reporter for the opposition paper, who was riding out with me. It was an embarrassing and unfair question, I thought, but I had to answer, “Yes.”

“Then you’d better have a slug of this,” said Meeker as we parked beside Kilby’s high, white wall. He held out half a pint of bourbon. “You’ll probably need it.”

I declined, but watching Meeker, two years older than I, take several long belts of raw whisky to fortify himself made me more uneasy. I began to wish our midnight party was over.

Click Here to Read the Rest of the Story

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Kenneth Malcom Christianson – 1964, FBI Most Wanted, Escaped convict

Kenneth Malcolm Christiansen, was a tall, tattooed California prison escapee who engaged in a “white collar” holdups,  was  added to the FBI’s list of “Ten Most Wanted Fugitives” on July 27, 1964.

On Christmas Eve, 1963, Kevin Malcolm Christiansen escaped from the California Institution for Men at Chino where he was serving two consecutive sentences of five years to life for armed robbery.

After his escape, Christiansen robbed banks, restaurants, bars and jewelry stores in Arizona and California, equipped with a brief case and posing as an attorney. This ruse provided easy access to the office of the manager of these institutions who was then robbed.

On July 27, 1964 Christiansen was placed on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. He was captured two months later while trying to rob a seafood restaurant in Silver Spring, Maryland.

Description from FBI circular: Christiansen is distinguished by his height of 6 ft. 5 in., stooped posture and thin, 160-pound build. He is also prominently marked with tattoos, bearing a heart, dagger, scroll and the words “Love To Dad” on the outside of his right forearm. On the outside of his left forearm he bears tattoos of an anchor and the initials “U. S. N.,”

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Summary: Student with poor grades murders one woman, injures two others including his English Tutor.

Story 1: “Tucson Youth Goes Wild, Kills Woman,” by Dominic Crolla, Tucson Daily Citizen, May 16, 1964 pages 1 and 6.

A bitter argument over his poor marks in English triggered a wild rampage early today by an enraged 16-year-old Tucson High School student which ended in the death of a woman and beatings of two other persons.

The youth, Peter B. Damskey, 3663 N. Cactus Blvd. [Tucson, Arizona], was taken into custody by sheriff’s deputies at his home where they found him peacefully asleep about a half hour after the bloody melee.

Lying near his home were the victims—the dead woman, Mrs. Margaret Agnes Eckstrom, about 50, with a butcher knife protruding from the right side of her neck; her unconscious husband, Carl, a painting contractor, and Miss Barrie Ryan, 28, a University of Arizona English instructor.

Damskey, who has been turned over to juvenile authorities, was being tutored privately in English by Miss Ryan. Both she and Carl Eckstrom are in satisfactory condition at Tucson Medical Center. Miss Ryan suffered bruises on the face and Eckstrom is being treated for facial and head cuts.

According to Sheriff Weldon V. Burr, the youth also tried to set fire to Miss Ryan’s house, at 2707 Clay Alley. Burr said the youth’s father, George B. Damskey, owner of Damskey’s Cigar Store, 131 N. Stone Ave., had told him his son had been a patient for two years at the Tucson Child Guidance Clinic.

The Eckstroms’ home is at 3625 Clay Alley. They are neighbors of the Damskeys and Miss Ryan. And they became involved when they saw the Ryan house on fire.

Sheriff’s Deputies Kenneth Chronister and Reggie Russell and Capt. James McDonald were told the Eckstroms found Miss Ryan lying outside the house unconscious.

While Mrs. Eckstrom ran back to her home to call for an ambulance and the sheriff, her husband attempted to put the fire out.

Damskey was interrogated for some two hours after being taken into custody, at which time, according to Burr, he gave this account of what had happened.

He said he had gone over to see his tutor at about 1:30 a.m. to discuss his English marks with her. She ordered him out, but he wouldn’t leave. A struggle developed, during which he shoved her and punched her with his fists.

She ran out of the door screaming, but he tackled her, tried to stifle her screams for help, and then punched her four or five more times on the face. Burr said that Damskey had stated that he then took a “stick,” later changing the description to a “club.” and then beat her unconscious.

After that, the sheriff said, the boy tried to set fire to the house by turning on the gas in the oven, and shoving a silken scarf or paper inside.

The gas ignited from the pilot,” said Deputy Russell. He managed to set fire to the drapes, some piano music and his English lesson papers.

The youth said that when Carl Eckstrom arrived he said: “You’re a Boy Scout, get this fire out.” And they both turned a garden hose on the flames and put the fire out.

Once the fire was under control, Eckstrom grabbed Damskey by the shoulders and shook him several times. The youth, whose father told Burr he had taken karate lessons, broke loose and punched Carl Eckstrom to the ground, knocking him unconscious with a blow across the face with a glass coffee pot.

The youth then went to the Eckstrom home which was locked. Mrs. Eckstrom was inside, trying to call for help as Damskey, using his elbow, smashed a glass panel in the kitchen door and gained entry to the house.

Mrs. Eckstrom grabbed a butcher knife and ran out of the front of the door. Damskey ran after her. Shortly before he caught up with her, she turned and faced him, the knife held high in her right hand, the blade pointing downward.

Damskey told Burr he feinted and she plunged down with the knife, missing him. He said he grabbed her wrist, forced her to the ground, and then twisted her wrist, her hand still holding the knife, back toward her neck.

“I twisted her wrist and drove the knife into her neck once, maybe twice,” he told the sheriff.

Burr said later there were two “good” fingerprints on the knife, but they had not yet been identified.

Damskey told the sheriff he had not handled the knife at all. According to Burr, the youth then went back to his home, got into his pajamas, hung his bloodied clothes in a closet, and then went to bed, apparently putting out of his mind completely the savage attacks.

The youth, described as about 5 feet 5 inches, slender but having heavy hands, told the sheriff’s deputies he went “mad” while arguing with Miss Ryan.

The youth’s report that Miss Ryan was awake when he went to her home conflicted with her statement that she was awakened by Damskey.

Damskey told deputies his son wanted to major in sciences, but poor marks in English apparently were holding him back. That was why he started taking lessons from Miss Ryan.

“In trying to determine his ‘likes and dislikes’ we learned that he was quite a student of the Nazis and the Third Reich. He apparently had studied the Second World War very closely, concentrating on battles the Nazis had won and lost,” Burr said.

It was through this close interest in the Nazis that sheriff’s deputies were able to extract the whole story from him. Burr said he was impressed when Cronister started speaking to him in German and demonstrated knowledge of the German’s and their battles.

Paul Charters, assistant chief probation officer here, said he had no knowledge “of any referral” on the youth before. He added that Damskey will be given psychiatric and psychological tests Monday, “although the boy has had these tests before.”

Three Years Later…

Story 2: Judge Rules Damskey Fit for Sentencing, Tucson Daily Citizen, Dec. 12, 1967, page 12.

Superior Court Judge Robert 0. Roylston ruled today that confessed teen-age slayer Peter B. Damskey is mentally fit to be sentenced for the May 16, 1969, butcher-knife murder of Mrs. Margaret Eckstrom, 50. Roylston set sentencing for 9 a.m. Dec. 22, at which time a bearing will be held concerning the nature and length of sentence.

Damskey, 19, could receive 10 years to life in prison, but his attorneys are expected to ask that he be granted probation on the condition that he go to a private mental institution.

Roylston ruled Damskey legally sane after listening to the testimony of Drs. Robert Cutts and Gabriel Cata. Both recommended that the youth be confined to a mental hospital. Cutts said Damskey is “crafty.” The doctor added: “He presents a good facade, but, in my opinion, Peter is still a sick boy.”

Cata testified that the defendant “intellectually” knows the difference between “right and wrong.” He said that “emotions” could interfere with Damskey s judgment, however.

Cata said that during an interview, Damskey talked about “going to school next year . . . which is quite unrealistic.”

The youth pleaded guilty to Mrs. Eckstrom’s murder and was committed to the Arizona State Hospital in Phoenix. He was recently released as being in “a state of complete remission.”

Story 3: Young Slayer Dies of Coronary Illness, Tucson Daily Citizen, Oct. 23, 1974

Peter B. Damskey, who was serving a 25 year-to-life sentence for the 1964 butcher-knife slaying here of a 50-year-old woman neighbor in an incident that began with an argument over poor grades, has died at the Safford Prison Farm.

State Department of Corrections spokesmen said Damskey, who was 16 at the time of the killing, died of coronary insufficiency and coronary arterial sclerosis. He also suffered from Hodgkin’s disease.

Damskey, who was 26, pleaded guilty to second-degree murder in the May 16, 1964, stabbing death of the neighbor, Mrs. Margaret Eckstrom.

A Tucson High School student at the time of the slaying, Damskey was arrested by sheriff’s deputies following a bitter argument over his poor grades in English.

The argument left Mrs. Eckstrom dead — felled by a butcher knife wound to the neck — and her husband, Carl, and another neighbor, Miss Barrie Ryan, a University of Arizona English Instructor, severely beaten. Miss Ryan had been tutoring Damskey in -English.

Formal sentencing was delayed while he was confined to the Arizona State Hospital for about three years after the slaying. In 1967, Damskey was declared sane, sentenced and transferred to the Arizona State Prison.

Three years ago, Pima County Superior Court Judge Robert 0. Roylstun ordered that the original 25-year-to-life term be predated to the’ day in 1964 he confessed to the murder of Mrs. Eckstrom.

The re-sentencing voided the 1967 sentencing date, and would have made him eligible for parole earlier.  In an interview last year, Damskey said he expected to be paroled in 1979 or 1980.

Before his transfer from the Arizona State Prison at Florence to the Safford facility, Damskey was active in prison sports and worked as a activity coordinator.

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I am really proud [because of its rarity] of today’s mugshot of Lloyd Sampsell, a career bank robber whose amazing escapades spanned three decades. This is the only mugshot of him to known exist on the internet, outside of an FBI wanted circular.

From the early 1920s to 1952 Lloyd Sampsell was one of the most famous criminals in California. During the 20s, he and partner Ethan McNab robbed banks up and down the West Coast and used a yacht to make their escape and to travel from one city to the next, robbing banks along the way. This unique method of travel earned Sampsell and McNab the nickname “The Yacht Bandits,” which would follow them the rest of their lives.

He was arrested and convicted of bank robbery in 1929 and served 18 years in prison. His first stint was at Folsom where he was recognized by other inmates and prison staff as highly intelligent and was labeled an intellectual, by prison standards. Some books credit him with “running” Folsom Prison after he ingratiated himself with the warden.

During World War II, he was moved to a less secure prison farm where his power and influence grew to the point that the warden would let him take “French leave” from the camp. This meant that on Friday afternoon, he would go to his girlfriend’s apartment, and then return on Sunday night or Monday morning. When the press found out about this, the warden lost his job.

He was released in 1947 and went back to robbing banks. During the 1948 robbery of the Seacrest Finance Company, he shot and killed a clerk and wounded a policeman. This earned him a spot on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. It was his first murder and after he was captured and tried in 1949, he was sentenced to die in the gas chamber at San Quentin. While in prison, Sampsell connected with the most famous prisoner in the United States, author Caryl Chessman, and wrote brilliant legal briefs that earned him several stays of execution as his case was argued.

Eventually, he lost his battle and was executed on April 25, 1952. In an interview before he died, he pointed to what he was most proud of when it came to his legacy. “They say I’ve lived a wasted life,” he told a reporter. “But look, here’s something I’ve never told anyone. I’ve got a son. He’s six-foot-three and 170 lbs. He’s married, got two kids. He’s in the service overseas now. So I’ve left something good. You can’t say my life was wasted.”

Below is an article published the day before he was executed.

“Yacht Bandit Plea Denied by High Court,” Berkeley Daily Gazette, April 24, 1952, page two.

The State Supreme Court in San Francisco today denied the last-chance appeal of bank robber Lloyd Sampsell, scheduled to die tomorrow in San Quentin’s lethal gas chamber for a San Diego hold-up murder.

Sampsell, notorious Berkeley “Yacht Bandit” of the 1920’s, has been in the State penitentiary’s death row for three years for slaying, of Arthur W. Smith, a by­stander, during the holdup of the Seaboard  Finance Company in 1948.

He was originally scheduled to die in the gas chamber on July 21, 1950, but was granted a stay of execution on July 19 by the US District Court of Appeals.

His appeal was finally denied by the US Supreme Court on Jan. 28, 1952, and his execution was rescheduled for April 25. The tall, gaunt killer, once listed among the FBI’s “10 most wanted men,” was arrested in Phoenix, AZ, March 25, 1949, less than 24 hours after pulling his last job—the $8700 robbery of the Bank of America in Los Angeles.

Sampsell won notoriety in the late 1920’s when he and his partner,” Ethan Allen McNabb, cruised the Pacific Coast from Vancouver to Los Angeles in the luxurious yacht “Sovereign,” pulling robberies in port cities, and then putting to sea to escape capture. Their crimes included a $17,000 Berkeley bank robbery.

They were finally arrested in San Francisco in 1929 and Sampsell served 18 years in Folsom Prison for his part in the crimes. McNabb was sentenced to San Quentin where he was later hanged for killing a fellow convict.

Sampsell, who has spent more than half his lifetime behind bars and was known to have bragged that he stole more than $200,000 during his career of crime.

Check out more of our Vintage Mug Shots.

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I’m proud to be a regular contributor to Sword and Scale True Crime Podcast where in this week’s episode Mike Boudet and I review the most incredible historical true crime story you’ve never heard about. This podcast presentation was born from a story I wrote and posted on the HCD blog last October called: Mr. Secret Agent Man: The 3X Killer of Queens, NY.

As Mike writes: One of the first documented cases of a narcissistic killer engaging the media to taunt police, the tale of 3X captured the imagination of the nation. However after the killing stopped abruptly, this story was all but forgotten… until now. With similarities to the Zodiac Killer case, this is a story you have to hear.

You can listen to the podcast of this amazing criminal here: http://swordandscale.com/sword-and-scale-episode-21/ – Click on the purple arrow to start the Audio MP3 player and fast forward to the 7 minute and 30 second mark.

If you’d like to read the story and view related photographs, follow this link: http://www.historicalcrimedetective.com/mr-secret-agent-man-the-3x-killer-of-queens/

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There is a great link to an 1896 article from The San Francisco Call about the case at the end of the article.

San Francisco, 1896

Joseph Blanther was born in Rankerburg Steirmart, Austria, in 1859. When nineteen years of age he was made a Lieutenant in the Austrian army, and a few months later, on December 12, 1878, was knighted and decorated by Emperor Franz Josef for distinguished services in battle.

Because of some peculiar transaction he retired from the army and left his native land. He arrived in San Francisco on February 2, 1896, and took up lodgings at the residence of Mr. Hogan, at 222 Haight Street. He was a liberal spender among the fair-weather friends he chanced to meet, and delighted to maintain a show of wealth.

He had been living at the Hogan residence only a short while when he borrowed $15 from Miss Hogan, at the same time obtaining $9.70 from a Mrs. Gilbert, who lived in the same house. For security he gave both ladies worthless checks on the Columbia Bank.

About this time he met Mr. C. H. Tebbs, a newspaper artist. Blanther, who had done some writing for Harper’s, and the Argonaut, and Tebbs, became quite friendly, and Blanther borrowed Tebbs’ camera. When the artist asked him to return it, Blanther made so many excuses that the Harry Morse Detective Agency was finally employed to recover it. Captain Cullenden was assigned to the case, and obtained a confession from Blanther to the effect that he had pawned the camera to a broker on Kearney Street, where it was subsequently recovered.

As Blanther claimed that he was actually starving and was forced to raise the money, Tebbs declined to prosecute him.

In 1896 an aged and decrepit old lady named Mrs. Philipini Langfeldt occupied a room at the residence of Dr. Kleineburg, at 1225 Geary Street. She, like Blanther, also loved to create the impression that she possessed much wealth, and almost constantly wore five very valuable rings set with diamonds and pearls.

Blanther remained at the Hogan home but a short time, and after a brief trip to Portland took up his residence at the home of the widow of Detective James Handley, at 828 Geary Street, four blocks from the Langfeldt home.

Lt. Joseph Blanther, former Austrian army officer, knight and notorious moocher.

He learned of the “wealthy” old Langfeldt lady and obtained an introduction. Notwithstanding the great differences in their ages, he paid her marked attention and made a great display of his decorations, never missing an opportunity to tell of his hairbreadth escapes on the bloody battlefield, and incidentally to refer to the honors bestowed upon him by the Emperor.

On Friday, May 15, 1896, Mrs. Langfeldt told Mrs. Kleineburg that she expected Mr. Blanther to call that evening.

While no one saw Blanther enter the house, different members of the household heard some man laughing and talking with Mrs. Langfeldt in her apartments. This person arrived about 9 p. m., and Dr. Kleineburg heard him leave at 11:10 p.m.

At 9 a. m. on the following morning a domestic servant in the house named Susie Miller took a cup of coffee to Mrs. Langfeldt’s room, but as she received no response to her knocks at the door she notified Dr. Kleineburg.

Officer Thomas Atchison was called and he broke in the door. In the middle of the floor was the body of the old lady, her head almost severed from the body, evidently by a razor. As might be imagined, everything near the body was saturated with blood.

Captain of Detectives Lees was called and he found drops of blood in remote corners of the room, which convinced him that the assassin had probably cut one of his hands in cutting the old lady’s throat. The five rings which she wore were stripped from her fingers, and the apartments were rifled. Suspicion at once fell on Blanther.

Mrs. Handley, his landlady, was visited, and she stated that Blanther arrived home on the preceding evening at 11:20, ten minutes after Dr. Kleineburg heard Mrs. Langfeldt’s visitor leave. She stated that he went to the bathroom, and while she heard him leave the house on the following morning at 6 o’clock, an unusually early hour, he did not sleep in his bed during the night.

J. E. Lynch, a roomer in the same house, stated that he saw Blanther leave the bathroom about 11:30 on the preceding night, just as he entered it, and noticing crimsoned water in the bottom and on the sides of the basin he concluded that Blanther had a “nose bleed” or had cut his hand.

Architect George Dodge came forward and made a statement substantially as follows:

“I became acquainted with Blanther when he resided at Mr. Hogan’s home on Haight Street. I saw him on Friday evening, the night of the murder, and he was despondent. He informed me that he had just pawned his overcoat, and if he did not get some money somewhere he would commit suicide.

“When he left me at 8:15 p. m. he told me that he was going to visit a friend on Geary Street.

“On the following morning he appeared at my office at 9 o’clock, an unusually early hour, and pretended to be in high spirits. He seldom wore gloves, but on this morning he wore a maroon colored glove on his left hand, even while rolling a cigarette.

“Many weeks ago Blanther told me that while at the racetrack one day he met a lady named Mrs. Genevieve Marks, who resided with a Mrs. King, at 427 O’Farrell Street. He said that this lady had valuable diamonds upon which she desired to borrow some money, and he asked me if I could procure a loan on them. I replied that I thought I could, but that I would require a written authorization from Mrs. Marks.

“On Saturday morning he delivered two unset diamonds to me with the following note:

‘Mr. J. Blanther: I hereby authorize you to borrow money on collateral security given to you by me, consisting of diamonds.   — GENEVIEVE MARKS.’

“After reading the letter of authorization I felt reassured and returned it to Blanther. I then went with Blanther to a money lender named Henry Lacey, who loaned me $100 on the stones.

“Blanther did not enter Lacey’s office, but remained outside. As I had business in Alameda, and as Blanther told me that he was going to Oakland, thence to San Jose to meet Mrs. Marks, we rode across the bay together.

“As he pulled out several cigars during the morning I playfully opened his coat and looking at the pocket where the cigars were kept, I laughingly said : ‘You must have beat the slot machines.’ When I opened his coat I noticed a razor in the pocket with the cigars. I now recall that Blanther did not appreciate my little joke.

“He left the local train at Seventh and Broadway streets, and said he would see me the next evening.”

Mrs. Marks made a statement substantially as follows :

“It is true that I know Blanther, and he called at my home many times. I have several diamonds, and Blanther annoyed me with the interest he took in them and the questions he asked regarding their value.

“The man became obnoxious to me, so I suggested to him that it would be better if he ceased to call, and I notified Mrs. King, my landlady, that thereafter I was not at home if Mr. Blanther called.

“I have not seen him for weeks, and yesterday, the day I was alleged to have made an appointment for a meeting at San Jose, I was sick in bed at home.

“I never asked Blanther to hypothecate any diamonds for me nor did he ever have any of my jewelry in his possession.”

Mrs. King, when questioned, corroborated Mrs. Marks’ statement.

Henry Lacey, the money lender, was interrogated, and he produced the diamonds received by him from Mr. Dodge.

Mrs. Kleineburg identified them as being exactly the same as those in Mrs. Langfeldt’s rings.

Francis Korbel, the Austrian Consul, was called in to examine Blanther’s medals, decorations and papers, and he stated that they were undoubtedly genuine and added that Blanther was not only an officer in the Austrian army, but a Knight in several imperial orders.

Captain Lees had positive information that Blanther boarded train No. 19, bound for Los Angeles, which left Sixteenth Street, Oakland, at 5:30 p. m., on the day the body was found. Blanther purchased a ticket to Martinez on the train, but when he reached Port Costa he purchased a ticket to Los Angeles, and continued his journey on the same train. He attracted general attention because of the fact that he wore maroon colored gloves at all times, even when eating his meals.

Captain Lees telegraphed to the Los Angeles authorities to apprehend him at the train, but through some misunderstanding the officer arrived ten minutes too late.

It was subsequently learned that Blanther procured the ticket under the name of Forbes.

Captain Lees then decided to flood the country with circulars containing a picture of Blanther, but only two pictures of the fugitive could be found. One was taken in his military regalia when he was scarcely a man, and while the other picture, which was unmounted, had been a good likeness, it had faded so that it was useless for copying purposes. It was turned over to Theodore Kytka, the handwriting expert, who observed that it was printed on solio paper. As this kind of paper had only been in use for this purpose for two years, it was easy to conclude that the picture had been taken within that time. Because of the modeling of the shadows on the face, Kytka concluded that it was printed in some well-equipped gallery. He obtained Captain Lees’ consent to communicate with the police departments and the Pinkerton agencies throughout America, who were requested to visit all photograph galleries and ascertain if Blanther or “Forbes” had within the last two years sat for a picture, and if so to procure the negative.

The Pinkerton agency located the negative in Brand’s gallery in Chicago, and it was forwarded to Kytka, who removed the retouching, to make the picture look as natural as possible.

A good picture and description of the fugitive was then sent to the Chicago Detective, a paper of wide circulation, with instructions to publish the same.

On March 2, 1898, the county assessor came into the sheriff’s office in a little town in Texas and saw Blanther’s picture, taken from the Chicago Detective, pasted on the wall.

He said: “Hello, who is this?” The sheriff gave him the desired information. The assessor then said: “Well, if that ain’t the picture of Archibald Forbes our schoolmaster over at Koppearl, I am very much mistaken.”

The more he studied the picture the more convinced he became. Finally he persuaded the sheriff to accompany him to the school.

After interrogating “Forbes” the sheriff decided to take him into custody. As he did so the schoolmaster attempted to draw a pistol, but he was overpowered and placed in the jail at Meridian, Texas, pending a further examination, which proved conclusively that he was Blanther.

Detective Ed. Gibson was sent after him, but Blanther had probably been prepared for nearly two years for such an occasion, as he had cyanide of potassium concealed under the band of his hat, and the jailers found him dead in his cell.

From the book: “Celebrated Criminal Cases of America,” by Thomas Samuel Duke, The James H. Barry Company, 1910.

Read More: The San Francisco Call, May 19, 1896

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Roy Gardner, Bank Robber, Escape Artist, Author

Roy G. Gardner (January 5, 1884 – January 10, 1940) was once America’s most celebrated outlaw and escaped convict during the Roaring Twenties.

During his criminal career, he stole over $350,000 in cash and securities. He also had a $5,000 reward placed on his head three times in less than a year during his sensational career. He was the most dangerous inmate in the history of Atlanta Prison and he was dubbed by the newspapers across the West Coast as the “Smiling Bandit”, the “Mail Train Bandit”, and the “King of the Escape Artists.” He was one of the most notorious offenders within the Federal Bureau of Prison system, one of the most notorious inmates at Alcatraz and one of the most ruthless criminals in American history.

Gardner is said to be the most hunted man in Pacific Coast history. While legend has it that he was the first to escape the McNeil Island Federal Penitentiary, this has been confirmed to be not true. The first escapes from McNeil Island occurred before Gardner was even born, and, by the time of his imprisonment, several dozen inmates had made their escapes. McNeil Island, in fact, was the only Federal Penitentiary never to have a wall and was never considered a maximum security facility.

Gardner was the “Most Wanted” gangster of 1921.

He is now largely forgotten for his daring acts. No longer the household name that he was in 1921, he never lived as an outlaw on the Western frontier, was never a Depression Era gangster, and was never in a gang, all things that may contribute to him being largely forgotten in modern times. He was a lone wolf and his reputation and notoriety made him a touchstone of his time.

Gardner published his autobiography, “Hellcatraz”, a sensational book that contains not only descriptions of his interesting life but also such familiar names as Al Capone. He attended crime lectures, and he and Louis Sonney made one of the first re-enactments on a short film called, “You Can’t Beat the Rap”. The ex-convict landed a job as a film salesman and an exposition barker. A 1939 movie called “I Stole A Billion” was based on his life. The movie was a failure.

On the evening of January 10, 1940, Gardner wrote four notes at his hotel room in San Francisco, one of which was attached to the door warning: “Do not open door. Poison gas. Call police.” He sealed the door from the inside, then killed himself by dropping cyanide into a glass of acid and inhaling the poison fumes.

Source: Wikipedia, Creative Commons

Check out more of our Vintage Mug Shots.

Read More:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_Gardner_%28bank_robber%29

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/az-treasures9.html

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