The following story was written by Thomas Duke in 1910. At the end of the story are links to more information and there has even been a movie made recently about this case.

On March 9, 1873, Dr. William H. York left Fort Scott, Kansas, on horseback for his home in Independence, Kansas, and although the days and weeks rolled by, he did not appear at his home. Dr. York was in comfortable circumstances; possessed of a cheerful disposition, and had friends galore who decided that he had not voluntarily disappeared, and they concluded that he had become the victim of foul play, as it was known that he had considerable money on his person.

Senator and Colonel York employed detectives and joined them in the search for their missing brother. Excitement ran high throughout the State, and volunteer searching parties inspected nearly every foot of ground and dragged the rivers throughout the surrounding country.

There was a little town called Cherryvale, about fifty miles from the south line of the state (Kansas/Oklahoma), and Dr. York was traced to this place. About two miles south of this town, on the main wagon road, stood a small frame tavern, having a room in front where meals were served to wayfarers by William Bender and his family, who moved into the house in March, 1871.

Bender was sixty-three years of age and Mrs. Bender was about sixty years old. The son was twenty-seven, and the daughter Katie was twenty-four years of age. The father and son were large, coarse appearing men, and the daughter was a large, masculine, red-faced woman who bore an exceedingly bad reputation.

The family professed to be spiritualists and the daughter claimed that she possessed supernatural powers, as will be seen by the following advertisement inserted in the Kansas papers:

“Professor Miss Kate Bender can heal disease, cure blindness, fits and deafness. Residence, 14 miles east of Independence, on the road to Osage Mission. June 18, 1872.”

On April 3, 1873, a party of men rode up to this roadside tavern and asked the Bender family if they had heard or seen anything of the missing Dr. York, but they claimed to be ignorant of his whereabouts. A few days afterward, another party called and made the same inquiry. The Bender family, fearing that they were suspected, hitched up their team and, without touching the household effects, drove away.

On May 9, another searching party, while passing Bender’s tavern, noticed its deserted appearance. This impressed them as being rather singular, and when they went to the rear of the house, they found that some hogs and calves had died there, evidently from thirst or hunger. This aroused suspicion and the authorities instituted an investigation.

In a small one-half acre orchard adjoining the house, the surface of the ground had been carefully plowed and harrowed, but there had just been a heavy rainfall and in a certain place the ground had settled very noticeably and the settled portion was about the size of a grave. The ground was then dug up and the badly decomposed body of Dr. York was found. The skull had been crushed and the throat cut. Before nightfall seven more bodies were exhumed and were subsequently identified as follows :

No. 1. W. F. McCrotty, a resident of Cedarville, who was contesting a case before the land office in Independence and who probably stopped at Bender’s for refreshments.

No. 2. D. Brown, a resident of Cedarville, who had been trading horses in the neighborhood with a man named Johnson. Brown’s body was decomposed beyond recognition, but it was identified through a silver ring which Brown wore and which he had shown to Johnson.

No. 3. Henry F. McKenzie of Hamilton County, Indiana, who had been missing since December 5, 1872. He was en route to Independence for the purpose of locating there. His sister, Mrs. J. Thompson, identified his wearing apparel.

Nos. 4 and 5. Mr. Longoer and his baby girl. This gentleman had buried his wife in 1872 and was about to leave for Iowa.

Nos. 6 and 7 were the unidentified bodies of two men.

In each instance the skull was battered to a pulp and the throat cut from ear to ear, with the exception of Mr. Longoer’s eighteen-months-old girl, who died from suffocation. As there were no marks on the child’s throat, and as she was lying under her father’s body in the grave, it is probable that she was thrown in alive and was suffocated when her father’s body was thrown in on top of her.

The next day another body of a child was found, but it was so badly decomposed that it was impossible to ascertain its sex. Judging from the length of its golden hair and the size of the body, it was evidently the remains of an eight-year-old girl. This body was evidently butchered by a fiend. The breast bone was driven in ; the right knee was wrenched from its socket and the leg doubled up under the body.

When the officers entered the deserted house they were met by an unbearable stench. It was then revealed how the whole series of crimes was committed.

A little booth was formed by cloth partitions, in which the guests partook of their meals. The table was purposely set back so near this partition that when they sat in an up: right position in their chairs, the back of their heads would be against and indent this cloth. If the guests had the appearance of having money in their possession, one or both of the male members of the family would patiently wait on the opposite side of the curtain with heavy stone-breaker’s hammers, two of which were found by the officers, and when the guests sat upright and the impression of the back of their heads appeared on the cloth partition, the assassin, or assassins in case two guests were to be disposed of at once, would swing the hammers and crush in the victims’ skulls.

As people were constantly passing on the road who might stop at Bender’s, it was necessary to get the bodies out of sight as quickly as possible, and for this purpose a trapdoor was made in the floor, which was directly over a pit about six feet deep, which had been dug in the ground. After the body was thrown in the pit, the throat was cut from ear to ear, for fear there might be a spark of life yet remaining. It was the accumulation of congealed blood in the pit which caused the terrible stench.

After it became dark, the grave would be dug and the body buried. The reason for keeping the ground in the orchard constantly plowed and harrowed was to prevent the new graves from being noticed.

When the neighbors learned of this series of atrocious murders, they became almost insane in their desire for vengeance, and they immediately organized vigilance committees and scoured the country in the hopes of apprehending this family of fiends.

About a mile from Bender’s tavern was a grocery store conducted by a man named Brockman, who had been a partner of Bender’s from 1869 to 1871. As both men were Germans and close friends, it was suspected that Brockman was an accomplice in some of the murders, or at least could impart valuable information, both as regards the crimes and as to Bender’s whereabouts. A posse therefore seized him and after taking him to the woods, some eight miles distant, they placed a rope around his neck and told him to confess all that he knew or be hanged.

He begged for mercy and swore that Bender had never made a confidant of him. The frenzied posse then hanged him to a tree, but when he was on the point of death, they let him down to the ground and after restoratives were ad-ministered, he finally regained his speech. Again he was ordered to confess and again he swore that he was ignorant of Bender’s doings.

He was hanged again and this method of torture was repeated three times, but it availed the posse nothing, and they finally left Brockman lying on the ground in a semi-conscious condition, but he eventually recovered.

Sometime previous to the discovery that Bender’s tavern was a human slaughter-house, the body of a man named Jones was found in Drum Creek. The back of the head was completely crushed and almost severed from the body. The only clew obtainable was a wagon track through the snow, which led down to the creek near where the body was found. But there was a peculiarity about this track because of the fact that one of the wheels was evidently considerable out of plumb, therefore, in revolving it made a zig-zag track through the snow. In view of the discoveries at Bender’s tavern, an experiment was subsequently made with the wagon in which the family temporarily escaped, and it was found that their wagon left tracks similar to those found in the snow.

This deviation from the usual method of disposing of the bodies of the victims, was due to the fact that at the time of this murder the ground was frozen, thus making grave-digging slow work and hard to conceal. Upon arriving at the frozen creek, it became necessary to cut a hole in the ice and push the body underneath, in order to conceal it for the time being.

There is no doubt but that the methods above described were those employed by these butchers, as two prospective victims unconsciously escaped from their clutches after all the preliminaries were arranged, and it was not until the expose that they realized their hair-breadth escape from being “planted” in “Old Man Bender’s” orchard.

Mr. Wetzell of Independence, Kansas, read Kate Bender’s advertisement of her remarkable ability as a healer of the afflicted, and being constantly tortured with neuralgia in the face, he induced a friend named Gordan to accompany him to her home. Upon examining his face, Kate expressed confidence in her ability to effect a permanent cure, but as it was about dinner time she invited both men to dine first. She set the chairs for the guests so that their heads were in close proximity to the cloth partition, and eatables were then placed on the table.

When they first arrived they observed that Old Bender and his son scrutinized them closely, but assuming that it was done merely through curiosity, they gave the incident no further thought at the time.

When the visitors took their position at the table the father and son disappeared. For some reason, which Wetzell and Gordan could not explain, they immediately arose from the table and stood at the counter to eat their meals.

Up to this time Miss Bender was most affable toward her guests, but at this unexpected turn of affairs, she became caustic and almost abusive in her language toward them.

The two male Benders then reappeared from behind the partition, and after casting a glance at the two strangers, they repaired to the barn, a few rods from the house. The guests became suspicious at this sudden change of demeanor on the part of their hostess and immediately left the building and went out on the road.

Providentially two wagons were being driven past at this moment, and Gordan and Wetzell jumped into their buggy and drove away ahead of them, but on reflection they con¬cluded that perhaps they were unnecessarily alarmed and dismissed the incident from their minds.

As there has been much speculation as to the fate of the Bender family the following letters from the Chiefs of Police of Independence and Cherryvale, Kansas, to the author are published in part:

“Cherryvale, Kansas, June 14, 1910.

“Dear Sir :—Yours just received. It so happened that my father-in-law’s farm joins the Bender farm and he helped to locate the bodies of the victims. I often tried to find out from him what became of the Benders, but he only gave me a knowing look and said he guessed they would not bother anyone else.

“There was a vigilance committee organized to locate the Benders, and shortly afterward old man Bender’s wagon was found by the roadside riddled with bullets. You will have to guess the rest. I am respectfully yours,

J. N. KRAMER,

“Chief of Police.”

 ——–

“Independence, Kansas, June 14, 1910.

“Dear Sir :—In regard to the Bender family I will say that I have lived here forty years, and it is my opinion that they never got away.

“A vigilance committee was formed and some of them are still here, but they will not talk except to say that it would be useless to look for them, and they smile at the reports of some of the family having been recently located.

“The family nearly got my father. He intended to stay there one night, but he became suspicious, and although they tried to coax him to stay he hitched up his team and left.

“Regretting that I cannot give you more information,

“I am yours respectfully,

“D. M. VAN CLEVE,

“Chief of Police.”

More Reading:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloody_Benders

TruTv Crime Library (link removed)

The Bloody Benders: 140-year-old crime scene still fascinates today – Wichita Star

The following story was written by Thomas Duke in 1910. At the end of the story are links to more articles, a video, and there has even been a movie made recently about this case. The Botkin-Dunning Case was the first time the US Postal Service had been used to commit murder.

Mrs. Cordelia Botkin loved to have her photo taken and said she had poised for more than 100 photographs. The San Francisco newspapers took note of her vanity and published three of them.

Cordelia Botkin, In 1895, she began an affair with Associated Press newspaper reporter and editor JP Dunning who had recently arrived in San Fransisco with his wife and children. He immediately fell into gambling, drinking heavily, and chasing women. Botkin was just one of his reported three extra-marital affairs.

Cordelia Botkin in another of her vanity poses.

John P. Dunning. Tired of witness his debauchery, Mrs. Dunning, a beautiful, kind, caring and sweet woman, returned to Delaware with her children where her father was a congressman.

On August 9, 1898, Mrs. Dunning received a beautiful package filled with arsenic poisoned bon-bons. Six people ate candy from the box, two of them died including Mrs. Dunning and her sister, Mrs. Deane. The other four recovered.

At her trial, which began on September 6, drugstore proprietor Frank Grey testified he sold arsenic to a Mrs. Bothin who insisted she needed the poison to bleach a straw hat. When he recommended better products for that purpose, she refused him, and purchased the poison. Other witnesses and circumstantial evidence presented at trial proved overwhelming and on December 30, she was found guilty.

Cordelia Botkin's least favorite photograph. She received a new trial in 1904 and was again found guilty. Her former lover, John Dunning, died in 1908, penniless. While in jail and prison, she received extraordinary privileges in exchange for sexual favors with her guards and officers. Photo Courtesy of California State Archives.

On February 12, 1891, John P. Dunning, who became famous as a war correspondent, married Miss Mary Pennington, daughter of ex-Congressman John Pennington, in Dover, Delaware, and the couple came to San Francisco to reside.

The next year a little daughter was born. The family then moved to 2529 California Street, and while living at this address, Dunning took a stroll in Golden Gate Park one afternoon and flirted with a woman sitting on a bench. They entered into a conversation, during which the woman said her name was “Curtis,” and that her husband was in England. After they became more familiar the woman admitted that she was the wife of Welcome A. Botkin, whom she married in Kansas City on September 26, 1872, and that she had a grown son named Beverly. Her maiden name was Cordelia Brown, and the town of Brownsville, Nebraska, was named after her father. Botkin was for many years connected with the Missouri Valley Bank in Kansas City, but lived in Stockton, California, with his son, Beverly, at the time his wife met Dunning. While his wife remained in San Francisco Dunning met Mrs. Botkin clandestinely, but Mrs. Dunning took her baby to her father’s home in Dover, Delaware, and thereafter her husband and Mrs. Botkin were constant companions at the races and cafes.

Cordelia Botkin

Mrs. Botkin moved to 927 Geary Street and Dunning took a room in the same building. In the course of conversation he told Mrs. Botkin that his wife was passionately fond of candy and that she had a very dear friend in San Francisco named Mrs. Corbaley.

On March 8, 1898, Dunning accepted a position as war correspondent with the Associated Press, which made it necessary for him to depart immediately for Porto Rico. When he told Mrs. Botkin his plans, she pleaded with him to remain with her. He turned a deaf ear to her pleadings and told her bluntly that he would never return to San Francisco.

She accompanied him across the bay and wept bitterly when they parted.

On August 9, 1898, a small package arrived in Dover, Delaware, addressed to Mrs. John P. Dunning. That package was placed in the mail box belonging to her father, and was called for by Mr. Pennington’s little grandson and taken home.

The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Pennington, their two daughters, Mrs. Dunning and Mrs. Joshua Deane ; their son-in-law, Mr. Deane, and the two little children of Mr. and Mrs. Deane.

After supper the family repaired to the veranda, and Mrs. Dunning opened the package, which proved to be a fancy candy box containing a handkerchief, chocolate creams and a small slip of paper on which were the following words:

“With love to yourself and baby.—Mrs. C.”

Mrs. Dunning could not imagine who had sent the package, but being a noble woman, with friends galore, she did not suspect that she had an enemy in the world, and therefore her suspicion was not aroused.

Mrs. Dunning and Mrs. Deane and the latter’s two children partook of the candy, as did also two young ladies, Miss Millington and Miss Bateman, who chanced to pass the Pennington residence while the family were seated on the veranda. During that night all who partook of the candy were taken with retching pains in the stomach and vomited freely.

All recovered with the exception of Mrs. Dunning, who died on August 12, and Mrs. Deane, who died on August 11. Autopsies disclosed the fact that these ladies died from arsenic poisoning.

Mr. Pennington examined the handwriting on the box and on the slip of paper and discovered that it corresponded with the handwriting of an unknown person who had written an anonymous communication from San Francisco to Mrs. Dunning many months previously, in which it was alleged that Mr. Dunning was on intimate terms with a woman in San Francisco. Dr. Wood, a chemist, examined the candy which had not been eaten, and discovered a large amount of arsenic present.

John P. Dunning was advised by telegraph of what had transpired and he proceeded at once to Dover. He immediately recognized the handwriting as that of Mrs. Botkin and recalled his remark to her regarding his wife’s fondness for candy, and also that his wife had a friend in San Francisco named Mrs. Corbaly, which accounted for the initial “C.” signed to the note.

Detective B. J. McVey was sent to San Francisco with the candy, handkerchief, candy box and the note found in the box. Chief of Police I. W. Lees took charge of the case. Mrs. Botkin was located in Stockton, Cal., where she was living with her husband and son. Detective Ed. Gibson brought her to San Francisco, and in a few days an overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence was piled up against her.

She was positively identified by Miss Sylvia Heney and Miss Kittie Dittmer as the woman who, on July 31, bought candy in the candy store of George Haas under the Phelan block on Market Street. Miss Heney furthermore swore that this woman requested that the candy be placed in a fancy box which did not have the firm’s name on it, and also instructed that the box be not filled completely as she had another article to place in the box.

John P. Dunning produced love letters written to him by Mrs. Botkin, and handwriting expert Theodore Kytka testified to what was obvious to all, namely, that the person who wrote the love letters wrote the address on the candy box and the note therein.

Mrs. Botkin even neglected to remove the store tag from the handkerchief which she purchased in the “City of Paris” store from Mrs. Grace Harris, who even recalled the conversation she held with Mrs. Botkin. When asked why she recalled this so clearly, she stated that Mrs. Botkin’s resemblance to her dead mother startled her. She subsequently produced a photograph of her mother to show the striking resemblance.

Frank Grey, a druggist employed at the “Owl” drug store, positively identified Mrs. Botkin as the woman who had pur-chased two ounces of arsenic for the alleged purpose of bleaching a straw hat, and insisted upon getting this drug even when the druggist informed her that there were other preparations better adapted for the purpose.

On August 4 the package of candy was mailed at the Ferry Post Office and was particularly noticed by a postal clerk named John Dunnigan because the address, “Mrs. John Dunning,” reminded him of his own name. On this same day Mrs. Botkin left San Francisco for St. Helena.

Mrs. Almura Ruoff related a conversation she had with Mrs. Botkin in Stockton on July 27, 1898, in which the latter made inquiries as to the effect of different poisons on the human system, and asked if it was necessary to sign one’s name when sending a registered package through the mail.

After Mrs. Botkin left the Hotel Victoria at Hyde and California streets, where she had been stopping some months, W. P. Rossello, a porter, and W. W. Barnes, a clerk, found a torn piece of a gilded seal, similar to those pasted on candy boxes, on the floor of room 26, which Mrs. Botkin vacated. It was proved that the seal came from Haas’ store and the wrapping on the candy box clearly showed where it had been removed.

Extradition papers were forwarded from Delaware as it was planned to take her there for trial, but her attorney, George Knight, attempted to procure her release on the grounds that the evidence was insufficient, and furthermore, that the jurisdiction for the trial was in California and not Delaware.

Superior Judges Cook, Borden, Wallace, Troutt and Seawell, sitting en banc, rendered a decision on October 23 to the effect that the jurisdiction for the trial was in California, as Mrs. Botkin’s flight from Delaware was not actual but constructive. This decision was upheld by the Supreme Court.

The evidence was presented to the Grand Jury and on October 28, 1898, Mrs. Botkin was indicted. On December 9, 1898, the trial for the murder of Mrs. Dunning began.

On December 19, while testifying in the case, John P. Dunning refused to mention the names of other women he had been intimate with, and he was adjudged guilty of contempt and sent to jail, where he remained for several days until the question was withdrawn.

On December 30, 1898, Mrs. Botkin was found guilty and on February 4, 1899, she was sentenced to life imprisonment.

On March 9 Mrs. Botkin’s husband, Welcome A. Botkin, sued her for a divorce on the grounds that she had been convicted of a felony.

Before Mrs. Botkin could be sent to State prison, a decision was rendered by the State Supreme Court in the case of “Albert Hoff,” who murdered Mrs. Clute on Guerrero street, wherein it was decided that the trial Judge erred when, in his charge to the jury, he stated that “circumstantial evidence has the advantage over direct evidence, because it is not likely to be fabricated.” It was held that by so doing he expressed to the jury his opinion upon the force and effect of the testimony and intimated his views of its sufficiency. As the same form of charge was delivered in the Botkin and numerous other cases, she experienced no difficulty in obtaining a new trial.

This necessitated the bringing of all the Delaware witnesses back to San Francisco. The second trial also resulted in a verdict of guilty and on August 2, 1904, she was again sentenced to life imprisonment, which judgment was affirmed by the State Supreme Court on October 29, 1908.

After the conviction of Mrs. Botkin she was confined in the Branch County Jail, pending the decision from the higher court.

About this time Superior Judge Cook lost his wife and each Sunday he visited her grave, riding out on a car which passed the jail. On one Sunday he was astonished at seeing Cordelia Botkin in the same car and apparently unguarded. The murderess signaled the car to stop at the county jail and she proceeded in the direction of that institution, but was lost to the Judge’s view, as he remained on the car.

The next day he instituted an investigation.

It was charged that the voluptuous woman was on intimate terms with one or more of the guards, which accounted for the fact that she was surrounded with every comfort at the jail. It was also charged that she was probably accompanied on the pleasure trip by a friendly guard who was on another part of the car.

Judge Cook failed to find anyone connected with the jail who would admit that the prisoner had been away from the building on Sunday, and the woman attempted to take advantage of the situation by claiming that the person who resembled her so much that the trial judge was mistaken, was probably the person who purchased the arsenic, candy and handkerchief, but the claim was not seriously considered.

After the great earthquake and fire the branch county jail, where Mrs. Botkin was confined, became crowded because of the destruction of the main jail, and as a result this woman lost the comfortable quarters she had enjoyed for years.

Although the Supreme Court had not yet reached a decision in her case, she made application to be transferred to San Quentin State Prison, and the request was complied with on May 16, 1906.

After her conviction her erstwhile lover, her mother, sister, son, and also her former husband, died within a short time.

The prisoner became a victim of nervous prostration and was soon a physical wreck. During the latter part of 1909 she began to suffer from melancholy. In February, 1910, she applied for parole because of her health, but it was decided that she was not eligible.

On March 7, 1910, she became unconscious and died. The death certificate shows that she died from “softening of the brain, due to melancholy.”

She was 56 years old at the time of her death.

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

Video

More Reading:

San Francisco Gate: Murder by mail: The story of San Francisco’s most infamous female poisoner

Movie Trailer: The Mischievous Case of Cordelia Botkin, – youtube.com

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Theodore Durrant was born in Toronto, Canada, in 1871, and while a child came to San Francisco with his parents, who gave him a good education. In 1895 he was a medical student at Cooper Medical College. He pretended to be a devout Christian and was one of the most active members of Emanuel Baptist Church, which is located on Bartlett, near Twenty-Third Street. The younger members of this church organized a society for social purposes, and Durrant was elected Secretary, and was also a Superintendent in the Sunday-school. In 1894 a most estimable young lady, named Blanche Lamont, left her home in Dillon, Mont., because of poor health and came to San Francisco to continue her studies for the purpose of eventually following the vocation of a school-teacher.

Theodore Durrant

She made her home with her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. C. G. Noble, at 209 Twenty-First Street, where her sister, Maud, also resided. Blanche was a very religious girl and seldom went to places of amusement, but when she did she was usually accompanied by her relatives. She always attended the Emanuel Baptist Church and was a member of the Christian Endeavor, where she was a great favorite, because of her lovable disposition and good qualities.

On the morning of April 3, 1895, Miss Lamont left home as usual to attend the Boys’ High School, in which building she was taking a course at that time. While en route to this school she was accompanied by Durrant, who, after leaving her, went to the Cooper Medical College. After Miss Lamont finished her studies at this school she repaired to the Normal School on Powell Street, between Clay and Sacramento, where she was to take instructions in cooking, between 2 and 3 p. m.

Shortly after 2 o’clock Durrant appeared in front of this school and waited impatiently until nearly 3 p. m., when Miss Lamont came out of the building accompanied by a classmate named Minnie Edwards. Durrant approached and engaged Miss Lamont in conversation. Miss Edwards continued to the corner and got inside of the next southbound Powell street car and saw Durrant and Miss Lamont take seats on the dummy, Miss Lamont having her school books with her. Two other classmates of Miss Lamont, Miss Lanagan and Miss Pleasant, who were walking home, also saw her sitting on the dummy with Durrant.

On this day some street-pavers were re-laying some old-fashioned paving at Twenty-Second and Bartlett Streets, and as Attorney Martin Quinlan was passing this place curiosity prompted him to stop and watch the re-laying of this almost obsolete style of paving. While so doing, Theodore Durrant, whom he knew well, passed with a young lady of the same general appearance of Miss Lamont.

They were then walking in the direction of the Emanuel Baptist Church, a few hundred feet distant. Quinlan fixed the time as about 4:15 p. m., because of an appointment he was about to keep with a Mr. Clark on Mission street.

Diagonally across the street from this church, at 124 Bartlett Street, lived a Mrs. Leake, who had a married daughter named Mrs. Maguire, whose home was in San Mateo. On this date the daughter came to San Francisco, called on her mother and then went downtown to do some shopping, informing her mother that she would be back in the early afternoon.

As it was growing late the mother became uneasy about her daughter and sat in the window eagerly awaiting her return. At seventeen minutes past four she looked at the clock and then returned to the window, but instead of seeing her daughter approach she saw Durrant, whom she knew well as a member of her church, and a young lady of Miss Lamont’s general appearance walk up to the church, where Durrant opened the side gate and followed the young lady inside. This was the last seen of Blanche Lamont.

About 5 p. m. George King, the church organist, came to the church for the purpose of practicing for the next service. He had hardly begun his practice when Durrant opened the door leading down from the belfry. Durrant and King had been close friends, and King stated that when Durrant opened this door he was very pale, nervous and weak and was without a coat and hat. He stated that Durrant explained his weakened condition by saying that he had been up near the roof, trying to locate a leak in the gaspipe and had been overcome by gas. King ran to a drug store near Valencia and Twenty-Second Streets and returned with a bottle of bromo-seltzer, which Durrant drank.

When he claimed that he had recovered, King asked him to assist in carrying a small organ from the auditorium upstairs down to the main floor.  Durrant consented, but King stated that he detected no odor of gas whatever while upstairs, and furthermore that all the gas fixtures had been inspected by plumbers just previous to this time and were in good condition. Shortly after removing the organ the two men left the church, Durrant walking to King’s home with him, although Durrant’s home was in an opposite direction and he claimed to be feeling weak because of his alleged narrow escape from gas asphyxiation.

That night a prayer meeting was held at the church. Blanche Lamont, not having returned home, caused her aunt, Mrs. Noble, to worry greatly. Thinking Blanche might possibly have gone to the home of some friend, and would, as usual, attend the prayer meeting, Mrs. Noble also attended the meeting in hopes of seeing her niece. The lady was almost distracted, but refrained from telling of Blanche’s disappearance, believing that the girl would return. Durrant had a seat just in the rear of Mrs. Noble, and during the services said to her: “Is Blanche here to-night?” Mrs. Noble replied: “No, she did not come.”

Durrant then said: “Well, I regret that she is not with us to-night, as I have a book called ‘The Newcombs,’ for her, but I will send it to the house.”

After a few days of suspense Mrs. Noble could stand the strain no longer and she communicated the mysterious disappearance of her niece to the police and the press. As Durrant was “above suspicion,” no one considered it worthwhile to mention the fact that they had seen her in his company on the day of her disappearance. Durrant called on Mrs. Noble and offered his services in the search for the lost girl, and subsequently intimated to Mrs. Noble and a fellow student named Herman Slagater that he had received information which caused him to arrive at the conclusion that Blanche Lamont had not departed from this life, but worse: she had departed from the life of morality, and was even then in a house of ill repute from which he would endeavor to persuade her to return to the path of righteousness.

A few days after making this statement, the church janitor saw Durrant at the Oakland Ferry landing and asked him what he was doing there. Durrant replied that he was working on a clew he had obtained as to Blanche Lamont’s whereabouts.

At the time of Miss Lamont’s disappearance she had three rings in her possession, and on April 13 the postman delivered to Mrs. Noble an Examiner, wrapped in the usual fashion for the mail, and upon opening it, the three rings which Blanche Lamont wore fell out.

Subsequently, Adolph Oppenheimer, who conducted a pawn shop at 405 Dupont Street, identified Durrant as the man who attempted to sell one of these rings to him, between the 4th and 10th of April.

On April 12, an estimable young lady named Minnie Williams, left the home of C. H. Morgan in Alameda, and as she was about to leave his employ she had her trunk sent to the residence of Mrs. Amelia Voy at 1707 Howard street, in this city. Miss Williams was also a member of the Emanuel Baptist Church and on this very day she announced to the Morgan’s that she contemplated attending a meeting of young church members to be held at the home of a dentist named Dr. T. A. Vogel, at 7:30 that evening.

The girl never appeared there, and Durrant, who was secretary of the society and should have been prompt in attendance, did not arrive until 9:30 p. m., and his excited and overheated appearance was a matter of general comment among those present. The meeting adjourned at 11:25 p. m. and the young folks repaired to their homes with the exception of Durrant, who, for reasons best known to himself, went to Emanuel Baptist Church at this midnight hour.

April 13, the day Mrs. Noble received her niece’s rings, was the Saturday preceding Easter Sunday, and the Christian ladies proceeded to this church laden with flowers to suitably decorate in honor of the greatest anniversary of the Christian year.

Mrs. Nolt, of 910 Twenty-First Street, accompanied by Misses Minnie Lord and Katie Stevens, were among the first to arrive, and in the library they found the horribly mutilated remains of Minnie Williams. Her clothing was partially torn from her body and she had been repeatedly stabbed, then gagged and outraged. Some of her torn clothing had been stuffed down her throat so tightly that it required considerable effort to remove it. A broken knife blade was still in her breast.

The police immediately instituted an investigation and Captain Lees, who was at the time in Los Angeles, proceeded to San Francisco to take charge of the case, assisted by Detectives John Seymour, Ed. Gibson and others.

Charles Hill, of 203 1/2 Bartlett street, stated that about 8 o’clock on the preceding night he had observed a young lady of Miss Williams’ appearance enter the church in company with a young man whom he thought was Theodore Durrant. This caused a search to be made for Durrant at his home, but it was learned that early on the morning of the discovery of Minnie Williams’ body, he had left the city with the Signal Corps of the State Militia.

A search was made of his clothing in his room, and Minnie Williams’ purse was found in his overcoat. Detective A. Anthony was detailed to trail Durrant and arrest him, and on Sunday, April 14, Anthony and Constable Palmer arrested him near Walnut Creek, notwithstanding the indignant protest made by Lieutenant Perkins against this “outrageous accusation.”

While Anthony was engaged in apprehending Durrant, the remainder of the detective force began a systematic search of the church, with the result that they found even a more blood-curdling sight in the belfry than that beheld by the ladies in the library.

This belfry was in semi-darkness, but enough light entered for the detectives to behold what appeared like a marble carving of an absolutely nude girl lying on the floor, with a block of wood under her head. She was laid out on her back after death with her hands carefully crossed over her breast, in a position similar to that of bodies used by medical students in the dissecting room. A far more thorough search was necessary to locate her clothes and school-books, but they were eventually found poked in between the studs and the lath and plaster of the building. Blanche Lamont’s name appeared in the books.

An autopsy disclosed the fact that she died from strangulation but decomposition had reached such a state that it was impossible to determine if an outrage had been committed. While the body was as white as marble as it lay in the cool belfry, when it was removed to the body of the church, where the air was much warmer, it turned almost jet black.

Notwithstanding the overwhelming amount of evidence, which proved conclusively that Durrant accompanied Miss Lamont from the school to Emanuel Baptist Church, he denied having seen her that day and attempted to prove an alibi by swearing that he was at Cooper Medical College at the time it was alleged he was in the very act of murdering this girl.

While it is true that the records showed that some one answered his name at roll call at the conclusion of Dr. Cheney’s lecture, it was shown that it was customary for the students to answer for each other in case of absence, and no one would swear that Durrant was present at this lecture. As proof that he was not present, it was shown that several days afterward he persuaded a fellow student, Mr. Glaser, to give him the notes that he, Glaser, had taken at the lecture.

As soon as the finger of suspicion was pointed toward Durrant, information poured in to Captain Lees, proving that the prisoner was a degenerate of the most depraved class. For obvious reasons, names cannot be given of young ladies to whom he made the most disgusting propositions, and the wonder of it is that he was not killed, or at ,least exposed before. But in most instances the nature of his insults were such that the young ladies offended feared to inform their relatives, lest they would take the law in their own hands. One young lady told her mother that some time previous to these murders, Durrant had inveigled her into this same library and excusing himself for a moment, returned stark naked and she ran screaming from the church.

Although Minnie Williams was frightfully butchered and the room resembled a slaughter-house, not one drop of blood could be found on Durrant’s clothes, and there is no doubt but that he was naked when he committed this crime. He probably strangled Blanche Lamont in the library and then dragged her body up to the belfry, head first. That this was the manner in which he got her body to the place where it was found was proven by the finding of hairs from her head which caught in splinters on the steps.

Durrant also attempted to inveigle Miss Lucille Turner into this library for the purpose of making a “physical examination.”

The preliminary examination of Durrant began before Police Judge Charles Conlon on April 22, 1895. He was de-fended by General John Dickenson, and later by Eugene Duprey. On May 22 he was held to answer before the Superior Court for both murders. Captain Lees and District Attorney William Barnes decided to try him for the murder of Blanche Lamont, as that appeared at the time to be the strongest case, but subsequently additional evidence was gathered which made the Minnie Williams case even stronger than the one on which he was tried.

His trial began before Judge Murphy on July 22, 1895, and over one month was occupied in selecting a jury, during which time over one thousand prospective jurors appeared in court.

During the trial the Alcazar Theater Company produced a play called the “Criminal of the Century,” which was a dramatization of the Durrant murders. This was produced in defiance of an order of court prohibiting its production, and as a result W. R. Daily, the manager, was sent to jail for three days for contempt of court.

During Durrant’s trial fifty witnesses testified for the prosecution alone. On September 24 the case was finally submitted to the jury, and after deliberating five minutes, brought in a verdict of guilty with the death penalty attached.

The case was appealed to the Supreme Court, which affirmed the decision of the lower court on April 3, 1897. The day of execution was then set for June 11, 1897.

At this stage of the proceedings, Governor James Budd was appealed to, and after making an extensive personal investigation, he concluded that Durrant was guilty and refused to interfere.

On April 10, 1897, he was taken to San Quentin, and another appeal taken which was denied.

On January 7, 1898, he was hanged.

He protested his innocence to the last and was one of the coolest murderers who ever mounted the scaffold. When Warden Hale started to read the death warrant to him he said: “I will waive that right and spare you an unpleasant duty.”

The parents took charge of the body immediately after the execution, and as they feared grave-robbers, they attempted to have the body cremated, but no crematory in San Francisco would accept the corpse, so strong was the public sentiment. A Los Angeles firm accepted it, however, and it was cremated in that city on January 13, 1898.

In nearly all cases when a celebrated criminal is captured, a certain class of women take advantage of the opportunity to leap into the lime-light by showering him with attentions, and the more atrocious and depraved the criminal, the more these women appear in evidence. This case was no exception to the rule, and as soon as the trial began a young woman of prepossessing appearance became a constant attendant and almost daily presented Durrant with testimonials of her sympathy in the shape of small bunches of sweet peas, which accounted for her being known as the “Sweet Pea Girl.” Durrant did not know the girl, but with characteristic mendacity, he claimed that she was a friend who had positive knowledge of his innocence, but he was too “chivalrous” to divulge her identity.

It subsequently transpired that she was Mrs. Rosalind Bowers, and was even then neglecting her young husband to worship at the shrine of this degenerate. She afterwards lived in a Sutter-street house under the name of “Grace King,” and was accused of inveigling a wealthy clubman named Edward Clarke into a marriage while he was under the influence of liquor.

The author has a photograph taken of Durrant at a picnic when he was only sixteen years of age, and the position in which he posed proves conclusively that he was a degenerate even as a child.

Shortly before these crimes were committed, Durrant’s sister Maude went to Europe to study music. Fourteen years later it was learned that “Maude Allen,” who was creating a sensation in Europe with the “Vision of Salome” dance, was in reality Maude Durrant.

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

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Note: According to San Francisco historian Herbert Asbury, Durrant was known to San Francisco prostitutes at the time for a strange fetish. “For a year or so during the early eighteen-nineties Durrant visited the brothels in San Francisco’s Commercial Street several times a week. He always brought with him, in a sack or a small crate, a pigeon or a chicken, and at a certain time during the evening’s debauch he cut the bird’s throat and let the blood trickle over his body.”

Note: A book about this case was published in 2001. Sympathy for the Devil: The Emmanuel Baptist Murders of Old San Francisco by Virginia McConnell

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This story is available as one of ten stories in my book: Famous Crimes the World Forgot: Ten Vintage True Crime Stories Rescued from Obscurity. Volume I.

You can view images related to this case here.

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While researching newspaper coverage of other crimes, I came across trial coverage of the strange murder of Clothilde Marchand in 1930. What came out of that trial is a bizarre tale with the following ingredients: A Ouija board, witchcraft, an Indian faith healer, manipulation and coercion to kill, and a philandering sculptor who claimed it was necessary for him to “make love”  with his models out of “professional necessity.”

With those wackadoo components, I naturally looked into writing a feature story about this case. Unfortunately, others have already done it and they did a fine job of it.

This is one of those stories you can’t make up.

Below are links to two stories from contemporary writers who have written about this case.

The Ouija board murder: Tricking tribal healer Nancy Bowen to kill – David Krajicek, New York Daily News. I am familiar with his work on other crimes and you have to take the accuracy of his research with some skepticism. With that exception, his writing is entertaining.

Clothilde Marchand: done in by witchcraft, jealousy, and philandering husband – Elizabeth Licata, BuffaloSpree.com,

Google News Archive link to trial coverage of Lila Jimerson

On Jan. 1, 1950 ne’er do well brothers Malcolm and Windol Whitt, and Leon Turner broke out of the Attalla County Jail in Mississippi. The three  men were serving time for the attempted rape of a 15 year-old black girl named Verlena Harris.

Leon Turner had suffered the shame of being convicted for molesting a black girl and his drunken rage gave him the courage to get revenge seven days later. Grabbing their guns, the three men headed toward the dilapidated house of the girl’s step-father, Tom Harris. Leon burst through the door and ordered Tom to tell him where Verlena was. But the girl had heard the men coming and escaped out the back. Turner pushed Harris into the kitchen and shot him in the back with a .38 caliber pistol. Harris fell to the floor twisting in pain, but still alive.

Turner then went into the bedroom where he took out his shame and anger by shooting to death three young children, Frankie, 10, Mary, 8, and Ruby Nell, 4.

Meanwhile, Windol Whitt was trying to coax Verlena to come out from her hiding place underneath the house. Verlena had just made her way out from beneath the house when Turner fired his last two bullets at her. She played dead until the murderers had swaggered away, laughing at what they had just done. When they were gone, she painfully got to her feet and made her way to a neighbor’s house.

The next day, a 100 man posse was formed and tracking dogs from a nearby prison were brought in to find the men. Leading them was a prison trustee by the name of Hogjaw Mullen. Hogjaw was a confident, flamboyant man with the strength and courage to back it up.

Malcolm Whitt was caught that first day but he would not give up the route his brother and Turner had gone. Over the next two days, Hogjaw expertly commanded the bloodhounds who tracked the scent of killers to the house of Turner’s father. The scent grew stronger around the house, and then led to a barn, before trailing off to a potato house two miles away.

The eagerness of the baying dogs told Hogjaw that the killers were inside. With nothing to lose, Hogjaw pulled out a pistol [keep in mind he is a prisoner-trustee and he is armed] marched unprotected toward the shed where he knew armed men were hiding inside. Suddenly, he saw some movement inside and fired all six rounds of his gun into the shed. Terrified, Turner and Whitt came out of the shed and surrendered. Turner had taken a bullet near the spine. When the rest of the posse showed up, Hogjaw was standing guard over the men with an empty pistol.

Malcolm Whitt was sentenced to 10 years in prison for his part in the crime. Leon Turner and Windol Whitt each received a life sentenced. A thorough account of this crime is told in the book, One Night of Madness, by Stokes McMillan whose father was the editor of the local newspaper at the time. The reviews are quite good.

Crippled by a bullet, Leon Turner (foreground, with hat) and Windol White are handcuffed outside the shack where they hid.

Hogjaw and his blood hounds after the capture of Windol White and Leon Turner.

Source: “They Don’t Get Away,” Front Page Detective, May, 1950, pages 26, 27, 64-65.

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This story has been removed and is available for reading in my book, “Famous Crimes the World Forgot, Volume I.”

Photos from this book are available for viewing here.

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Lynn Baggett with lawyer, 1954. Photo by Ray Graham, Los Angeles Times

During the evening of July 7, a 1954 Nash Rambler station wagon driven by 28 year-old Lynn Baggett bore into the rear of a station wagon near Waring and Orlando Avenues in Los Angeles. The car she hit was filled with young boys returning from a day trip to a camp site. The force of the crash ejected nine year-old Joel Watnick who was killed when he impacted with the pavement. Another boy, five year-old Anthony Fell, was also seriously injured.

Baggett got out of her Rambler, examined the horrific scene, decided it was too much for her, got back in the small station wagon and took off. She drove several miles to a movie theater where she later said she went to calm herself. For the next 48 hours, police searched for the green Rambler and its driver. They found it in a San Fernando repair shop and arrested Baggett when she returned on July 9 to pick it up. Actor George Tobias identified the car as his and told police he had loaned it to Lynn Baggett.

Because of who she was, the arrest was reported in newspapers all across California. The 28 year-old former Texas beauty queen was a minor movie actress who mostly played background roles whenever a picture called for a beautiful girl in the background. By the time she was arrested, she had only had a few speaking parts. In spite of this, she was well known in Hollywood as the estranged wife of movie producer Sam Spiegel who would later go on to win three Academy Awards.

When she was arrested, she told police: “When I went back and saw the boy lying there, I knew he was dead. I didn’t know which way to turn. You don’t know what something like that does to you. I haven’t slept in 48 hours. I wish I’d been killed instead of the boy.”

Later when newspaper reporters came around to the police station, she sobbed out: “I’m sorry I can’t say anything now. I’m so confused. I wish I was dead!”

After her arrest and arraignment for manslaughter and hit and run, Baggett was released on a $5,000 bond.

Her trial began in mid-October of 1954 and lasted 10 days. On Oct. 27, a jury of 11 women and one man acquitted her on the manslaughter charge but found her guilty of felony hit and run. On Dec. 2, Superior Court Judge Mildren Lillie sentenced Baggett to 60 days in jail and three years probation.

“I am convinced of her attempt to evade responsibility of the law in leaving the scene of the accident,” Judge Lillie said. The judge further added that Miss Baggett was motivated by a feeling of irresponsibility rather than fear or panic in fleeing from the scene and had done “everything in her power to evade detection.”

“I still don’t feel I belong here, but in a way the judge did me a favor,” Baggett told a Hollywood gossip columnist during a jailhouse interview on New Year’s Eve. “This is the end of a cycle of bad luck for me. [Statement shows she doesn’t take responsibility for the accident –it was “bad luck” and not her fault.]

“I have been filled with anxiety because of my marital problems. When I get out I will divorce Sam, try to re-establish my personal life and try to work again. I’ve been in another jail of sorts the past three years.”

Lynn Baggett never worked again. She died in March, 1960 from a drug overdose in her Hollywood apartment. She was 34 years-old.

More Reading:

http://morethanyouneededtoknow.typepad.com/the_unsung_joe/2009/06/lynn-baggett.html

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/thedailymirror/2010/09/movieland-mystery-photo-9.html

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Posted from: “Full Pardon Asked For One Who Paid For another Man’s Crime,” The Sunday News and Tribune, Jefferson City, MO, Nov. 2, 1947

Attorneys for Frank Werther, 47, who served nearly 15 years in the Missouri state penitentiary here and state mental hospitals after conviction of a crime he did not commit, are preparing an application for a full pardon which will shortly be placed before Gov. Phil M. Donnelly for consideration, it has been learned here.

The account of a miscarriage of justice in the Frank Werther case, in which an innocent man was kicked around for 15 long years, reads like something out of a fiction magazine.

On a cold, dark and rainy night early in the fall of 1932, the Frisco railway agent at Neosho, Missouri, sat hunched over his telegraph keys, pounding out train orders and relaying rnesisages for the operation of the many fast trains that thunder incessantly up and down that main line of a great railway.

It was the night trick for this wire operator, named Moore, and it was an especially busy night. His wife, to keep him company, had come to the station with him, and sat over by the glowing stove, listening silently to the clatter of the wires.

Suddenly the door connecting the office with the waiting room was pushed open, and a medium sized man, a complete stranger to Mr. and Mrs. Moore, strode into the room.

Calmly he walked over by the stove, but suddenly he pulled a mean-looking six-shooter, backed the agent and his wife into a corner and announced: “This is a stickup. Give me all the money in that cash drawer, and out of that safe.”

Takes Station Money

There was no help for it, and Moore, taking a good look at the stranger, raked the bills and change out of the drawer under the ticket window, walked over to the safe, reached in. and pulled out the money sack containing a fair amount of currency.

The stranger backed out, keeping them covered, rushed through the door, and was gone in the darkness. Mr. and Mrs. Moore, of course, getting over fright, immediately called the police and the sheriff’s office and, in a matter of minutes, the officers were at the depot.

But their quarry had fled. Careful search of the entire depot, and the railroad yards, produced no thug. No strangers could be found uptown, not in the restaurants, nor the pool halls. Methodically they’ started checking the rooming houses. In one, down on McCord Street, they found a suspicious-looking, suspicious-acting sort of character.

In response to their questions, he stammered and stuttered.

“Yes,” he’d just gotten in Neosho that night. “Yes,” his muddy shoes had Neosho mud on them. “No,” he hadn’t robbed the depot. “No,” he hadn’t stuck up anybody. “Yes,” he had some: money—and he did have; about’ $700—but it was mostly in postal, savings certificates.

Despite his protestations that he had just arrived in Neosho: that night, and was a laborer looking for work, he was lodged in the county jail. The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Moore came down to the jail, and after studying the suspect for a while declared he was the man. “I’d remember that face anywhere,” said Mrs. Moore. Their identification was positive.

L. D. Rice, then the prosecuting attorney, now a prominent lawyer at Neosho, immediately filed charges against the: suspect, who said his name was Frank Werther, that he was 32 Years old, and that his home was at Winfield, Kans.

He employed three lawyers: Frank Lee, once a congressman from that district; Charles Prettyman, now a retired Neosho attorney; and Phil Graves, still, practicing in Neosho.

In the course of time, with Werther still in jail, his attorneys entered a plea of not guilty for him, and eventually secured a change of venue for his trial. It was set for hearing in Cassville, in that same judicial district, the county seat of Barry County.

Just before his trial his brothers came down from Kansas to see about it. Werther’s funds were exhausted, through lawyer fees, court costs and other expenses. They hired another lawyer. A R. Dunn, now Magistrate Judge in Newton County, to see what he could do. Dunn got into the case too late to do much good. The jury at Cassville found the man guilty of robbing the agent at the Frisco depot in Neosho at pistol point.

Dunn tried to get a new trial, but failed. The prosecuting attorney, elected by the people to see that justice was done by due course of law, felt that the man was guilty. He was supported in his belief by “Cap” Ruark, a special prosecutor who was helping him in that particular case.

Werther was sentenced to serve 10 years in the state penitentiary, following the jury’s conviction. He was received at Jefferson City [Missouri State Prison] on Dec. 5, 1932, prison records show.

Time marched on. Several months later, a special agent for the Kansas City Southern railway, in the line of investigating robberies from freight cars, came up on a hijacker in the railway yards at Harrison, Arkansas. In the gunfight that followed, the robber was critically wounded. Taken to the hospital

He lingered between life and death for several clays, gradually becoming worse. Finally, his condition grew so bad that he, himself, knew that he was going to die. The doctors had known it for some days.

Robber Admits Job

Lying on his iron hospital bed the robber thought back over his trail of crime, which had led him down through Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri and Oklahoma. Indeed, he had served time for some of his deeds. But, knowing the end was near, he called for the railroad’s special agent who had shot him.

“I want to tell you some things,” he said. “I robbed (so-and-so) over in Kansas. I held up a filling station at Joplin. I held up the Frisco depot in Neosho–”

“When was the Neosho job?” the officer inquired.

“One cold night in the early Fall,” he answered.

“Did you know another man was sentenced to the pen for that job?” the officer asked.

“No, I didn’t,” the dying man said. “But I did that job. Look in my grip over there under the dresser, and you’ll find the money sack that I took from that depot agent that night,” he said.

Sure enough, there was the money sack, with the words Frisco on it in big black type. And the details of the holdup, as he described them, were exactly as Moore and his wife had related them. No doubt about it—he did the job; but another man was serving time for it.

The officers of the county were contacted. They went to Moore and his wife, showed them the picture of the desperado who died in Arkansas, and they said he was the man. They completely repudiated their former identification of the man who was in the pen.

Then Attorney Dunn directed his attention to Jefferson City. He went up to the penitentiary, and uncovered a strange trail of events.

Werther, confined since December of ’32 for a crime he had not committed, had developed signs of increasing melancholy, and depression and finally his condition mentally had become so grave that he was transferred to the state hospital for the insane at Nevada, Mo. This occurred on May 8, 1933.

He remained at Nevada until June 25. 1934, for a year and a month, but became steadily worse, and was transferred to the asylum at Fulton. There he remained.

Attorney Dunn contacted his brothers in Kansas. They came out and canvassed the situation. The Governor and the parole board agreed to pardon the man. But his mental condition was still bad. Perhaps he was better off at Fulton than anywhere else—until, at least, his mind cleared up. So there he stayed.

Gradually, the beneficial results of the training, and care and understanding he received at Fulton, led to a slow return of the man’s normal sense. He was getting better.

On September 24, 1946, he was adjudged cured of any mental illness, and was remanded back to the penitentiary at Jefferson City.

Efforts were then set up in his behalf, but it was not until July 22 of this year (1947), almost 15 years from the time he entered the prison under a miscarriage of jus tice, that he was activated to parole.

Prison officials describe Frank Werther as a mild-mannered, inoffensive, laborer-type sort of person. He was, and is a protestant, and had a ninth-grade education.

Today, Frank Werther, it is reported has a good job, and is making good on it, at Wichita, Kan. His brothers still live down around Winfield.

Judge Dunn still interested in his behalf, advises that he is making plans to ask Governor Donnelly to issue Frank Werther a pardon, a full and complete restoration of citizenship for a man who was guilty only of being in a strange town, on a dark and lonely night, with muddy shoes encountered in tramping around looking for work, and with about $700 in his pockets.

“There was always a doubt in my mind about that case,” remarked Attorney Rice, recently, asked about the incident. “But the officers seemed to have the evidence, and it looked like he might have been the man who robbed the depot, although we never did find a gun on him, or in his room.”

Mr. Rice later joined in signing the application for pardon, as soon as he had learned of the confession made by the thug in Arkansas. And other lawyers in Neosho, including the district judge, also helped in the appeal for clemency.

Frank Werther, through a combination of circumstances had served about 15 years for a crime he did not commit, and had suffered more than ordinary tortures.

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