Hands Up; or, Thirty-Five Years of Detective Life in the Mountains and on the Plains
by D. J. Cook · English · Gutenberg #43379 · 749,040 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Hands Up; or, Thirty-Five Years of Detective Life in the Mountains and on the Plains
Author: D. J. Cook
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Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HANDS UP; OR, THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OF DETECTIVE LIFE IN THE MOUNTAINS AND ON THE PLAINS ***
HANDS UP
[Illustration: D. J. Cook
Maj. Gen. C. W. G.]
HANDS UP;
OR,
THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OF DETECTIVE LIFE IN THE
MOUNTAINS AND ON THE PLAINS.
_Reminiscences by General D. J. Cook, Chief of the Rocky
Mountain Detective Association._
COMPILED BY JOHN W. COOK.
A CONDENSED CRIMINAL HISTORY OF THE FAR WEST.
DENVER:
THE W. F. ROBINSON PRINTING CO.,
1897.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1897, BY D. J. & J. W.
COOK, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS.
A Hidden Treasure 13
Capture of the Allison Gang 35
A Cowboy's Sad Fate 43
Denver's Last Legal Hanging 48
The Italian Murderers 57
Musgrove and His Gang 92
The Exchange Bank Robbery 125
The Hayward Murder 131
A Dunkard Disgraced 169
The Wall Murder Mystery 177
A Slick Scoundrel 213
A Bogus Detective's Fate 218
The Leichsenring Robbery 233
A Deal with the Black Hills Road Agents 237
In the Express Business 249
A Farm Hand's Awful Crime 254
A Half-Million-Dollar Robber 274
A Utah Murderer's Capture 283
A Tale of Two Continents 302
Two of a Kind 309
Hanged in a Hog Pen 315
A Tussle with the Habeas Corpus 323
A Desperate Railroad Contractor 333
Dealing with Strikers 346
A Victim of Draw Poker 351
A Horse Thief's Folly 362
Pueblo Vengence 368
The Retribution of Fate 381
A Townful of Thieves 388
Ragsdale Gates 396
Taken by Surprise 400
A Race for Life 406
A Dream of Death 427
A Mexican Bandit 437
Conclusion 440
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Robbing a Buckskin Coach 18
The Attack on the Robbers Camp 24
Execution of the Robbers 29
Reynold's Map, showing location of treasure 32
Dead Cinch Hand Cuffs 36
Arrest of the Allison Gang 40
Killing of Van Pelt by Officers 45
Killing of Street Car Driver Whitnah 50
Hanging of Andrew Green 54
The Italian Murder 59
Finding of the Treasure 71
Arrest of Gallotti 78
Arrest of Ballotti, Campagne and Allessandri 84
Fatal Fight at Golden between Officers and Duggan
and Miles Hill 103
Killing of Ed Franklin at Golden 108
Lynching of Musgrove 116
Lynching of Duggan in Denver 122
Murder of R. B. Hayward 135
Capture of Seminole 143
Arrest of Sam Woodruff 153
Lynching of Woodruff and Seminole 165
Killing of Wall by Wight and Witherill 183
A Buffalo Chase by Wight and Witherill 191
Lynching of Geo. B. Witherill 210
Surprise of Road Agents by Officer Boswell 245
Arrest of Theo. Meyers by Gen'l. Cook 271
Hanging of Theo. Meyers 272
Murder of J. F. Turner by Welcome and Emerson 286
Arrest of Welcome by T. Jeff. Carr 293
Execution of Fred Hopt at Salt Lake 299
Hanging of Robert Schamle 320
Arrest of John Kelly 337
Shooting of John Doen 364
Arrest of Bill White 373
Lynching of White at Pueblo 379
Arrest of Entire Male Population of Carson 393
Arrest of Ed. McGrand 403
Shooting of Officer Wilcox by Clodfelter and Johnson 410
Pursuit and Capture of Clodfelter and Johnson 419
Mrs. Ramsey's Vision of her Husband's Murder 434
GENERAL DAVID J. COOK.
This book consists of a series of reminiscences of Gen. D. J. Cook, chief
of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association, which has been in existence
for the past thirty-five years, during which time Gen. Cook has been
continuously at its head. He organized it in the beginning and has
remained with it from that time until his own name and that of the
association have become almost synonymous terms in the entire Rocky
Mountain country, where both are known and where both are respected and
relied upon implicitly by honest people, and where both are
proportionately feared by evil doers of all classes likely to "have
business" with them. The stories told are all true records, but while
their number is quite considerable they are only a portion of the
thrilling experiences--whether his own or those of officers of his
association--with which his mind is stored. Indeed, if Gen. Cook should
attempt to even furnish a complete narrative of his own adventures, it
would fill a volume much larger than this one, for his has been a life of
excitement and adventure, of exposure and hardships, of heroic deeds and
many narrow escapes. Beginning as the son of an Indiana farmer, Mr. Cook
has by his own unaided exertions, placed himself at the head of the
detective force of the West, and has in many ways made himself prominent
as a useful citizen of a growing region.
David J. Cook was born August 12, 1840, in Laporte county, Ind., being a
son of George Cook, a farmer and land speculator. Receiving a moderate
education, he worked on farms in Indiana, Iowa and Kansas until 1859. His
father settled in Iowa in 1853, on the present site of Laporte, now a
thriving city, but then a howling wilderness. Selling out to good
advantage, the family moved to Jefferson county, Kan., in 1855, settling
on a tract of land north of where the little city of Meriden now stands,
on Rock creek. When the wave of excitement which swept the country on the
discovery of gold at Pike's peak came, it bore him to the Rocky
mountains, where he spent nearly two years in mining in what is now called
Gilpin county, Colorado. Returning to Kansas he bought a farm, but in the
fall of 1861 he went to Rolla, Mo., and engaged in running supply trains.
He was soon afterward transferred to the ordnance department of the Army
of the Frontier, and early in 1863 came again to Colorado and established
the association with which his name has since been connected, and which
has so long been a terror to evil doers and a trusty guardian of the
public safety.
Enlisting in the Colorado cavalry, he was in the spring of 1864 detailed
by the quartermaster of the Denver post as government detective in
Colorado, and served until the abandonment of the post in 1866. He next
served three years as city marshal of Denver, and in the fall of 1869, was
elected sheriff of Arapahoe county. So satisfactory to the people of the
county, of both political parties, was his administration of the sheriff's
office, that at the end of his term he was reëlected without opposition,
and served two years longer. From 1873 he gave his entire attention to the
detective work, holding at the same time the position of deputy United
States marshal until the fall of 1875, when he was again elected sheriff,
and reëlected at the end of two years, his last term expiring in January,
1880. In 1873 he was appointed by Gov. Elbert, and confirmed by the
senate, major general of Colorado militia; was reappointed by Gov. Routt,
and again by Gov. Pitkin, serving four years under each. He has served as
major general for nine years, and has rendered efficient service in
quelling riots throughout the state, as well as in recent Indian troubles.
During the Leadville strike, which occurred in June, 1880, and in which
Mooney was to that city what Dennis Kearney has been to San Francisco,
Gen. Cook was sent by Gov. Pitkin as commander-in-chief of the state
militia, and by his efficiency soon brought the rioters under subjection
to the laws of the state. During what was known as the Chinese riot, which
caused such disgrace to Denver on October 31, 1880, the mayor and sheriff
called on Gen. Cook to quell the riot, after the authorities had failed to
do so. Gen. Cook took charge of the police and twenty-five special
police, nearly all of whom were trusted members of the Rocky Mountain
Detective Association, that he swore into service, and in a short time
brought the rioters under subjection and caused them to disperse, after
arresting the ringleaders and placing them in jail. The resignation of Mr.
Hickey as chief of police caused a vacancy which the leading business men
of Denver thought Gen. Cook the most fitting man to fill. Knowing the
great desire manifested in regard to having an efficient chief of police,
the city council confirmed Gen. Cook in that position.
In addition to the responsible position to which Gen. Cook was then
elevated, he has also acted as deputy United States marshal for the
district of Colorado, to which he was again appointed two years previous.
Gen. Cook is a born detective. When asked one day how he happened to
follow this business, he replied: "It is natural. I can't help it; I like
it." He never received a day's training from any other detective in his
life, and yet from the very beginning he took rank with the best in the
country. He stands to-day alongside of Mr. Pinkerton. Indeed, many of his
exploits have far exceeded those of that justly-renowned officer in
thrilling detail and startling climax. A hundred times in his life Dave
Cook has been placed in positions where another man, under the same
circumstances, less shrewd or less courageous, would have been shot dead
in his tracks or eternally disgraced. But he was ever the right man in the
right place as a detective, and it is owing to this fact that he has
passed thirty-five years of detective and official life on the frontier
without being killed. He possesses the essential qualities of mind and
body necessary to become a successful detective in a degree rarely equaled
in one man. He is both brave and discreet. He is never afraid to strike.
No position appals him. Yet he is cool-headed and cautious and wastes no
blows--ventures into no unnecessary danger, and knows how to reserve his
strength until it is needed most. When the time comes to act he acts with
decision and promptness, always accomplishes his purpose, no difference
what the odds. He is an excellent judge of men. He knows how to select the
best assistants, and he "spots" a criminal nine times out of ten. He
knows when to talk and when to allow others to talk. He will listen half a
day to a string of surmises entirely contrary to his own without
interposing an objection, with the hope of getting a clue, where other men
would spoil everything by airing their own opinions. His memory is
excellent, his patience inexhaustible, his ability to put this and that
together is unexcelled, his perception is sharp, his reasoning is clear,
his courage is undoubted and his judgment is cool under all circumstances.
Add to these faculties the fact that he always deals fairly with the
public; that he never fails to protect his prisoners, and that he is a man
of fine bearing, of splendid figure, a face of iron on which a smile
appears at home, and you will discover the secret of Dave Cook's success
as a detective and as an executive officer on the frontier in the Rocky
Mountains.
It was when Cook was sixteen years of age that he went, with his father,
to Leavenworth. He was a country boy, roughly clad and without experience
in life. His father sent him forward to the hotel to engage rooms. He had
never before had such a duty as this imposed upon him. When he went in
there was no one behind the counter, but the seats outside were filled
with the usual crowd of hotel loafers--young fellows living in the city,
who, seeing a country boy enter, concluded to "guy" him. Finding no one at
the counter, he turned to the crowd and asked for the proprietor. The
loafers were inclined to giggle, and as they pointed out one of their own
crowd as the individual sought, the country boy thought he observed
several sly winks and heard suppressed laughter. Turning to the man whom
he was told was the party sought, he asked:
"Are you the proprietor?"
"I am," he replied, and he and all the rest laughed.
Then it was that Dave's insight into character and his ready ability to
"say things that hurt" came to the surface at the right time.
"I just wanted to know," he replied, "for if you are I shall hunt another
hotel."
The character of the laugh which accompanied the boy's walk to the door
was quite different from that which had prevailed before.
Mr. Cook did his first detective work three years afterwards, and then
discovered his ability in that line. He left Kansas and came to the Rocky
mountains in 1859, accompanied by a brother, their purpose being to seek
their fortunes mining. They were operating in the placer diggings in
Missouri Flat, between Black Hawk and Russell Gulch, and had accumulated
$250 in gold-dust, which they discovered one morning to be missing. Mr.
Cook remembered that a man, against whom no one had suspicions, however,
had been around the camp until recently, but now found that he was gone.
Contrary to the advice of all the "older heads," he decided this to be the
man he wanted, and concluded to follow him. He overtook the fellow near
Golden and made him disgorge, and, besides, pay all the expenses which
Cook had incurred in his pursuit. This man was one of the very few
criminals whom Cook has allowed to escape without placing them in the
hands of the authorities. But in this case the offense was against Cook
himself, and he was his own officer. The law of the miners of that day
inflicted the death penalty for stealing only $5 worth of any article from
a miner. Cook knew what the result would be if he took the man back to
camp, and he allowed the promptings of humanity to prevail and permitted
the fellow to go free, much to the man's relief, who also knew the laws of
the pioneer gold hunters to be more severe than those of the Medes and
Persians.
It was not, however, until Cook returned to Colorado, in 1863, that he
really began his detective career in earnest. He was engaged at first as
an assistant detective for the quartermaster's department in the district
composed of the camps at Denver, Fort Collins, Booneville, on the
Arkansas, and Julesburg. But he soon became chief of the department for
the district, a position which he held for three years, resigning at the
end of that time to be elected city marshal of Denver. During the three
years of his service as government detective he saved the country over
$100,000 worth of property, such as horses, mules, provisions and feed,
which would otherwise have been lost, and was the means of exposing the
tricks of many who were high in authority. His first exploit of note was
the breaking up of a gang of horse thieves, who were plundering both the
army and the citizens, and by both of which parties he was engaged to
perform the service. Being allotted to this special work, he went to Chase
& Healey's gambling hall, on Blake street, then a noted gambling
establishment, and took a table and began to deal Spanish monte between
two then notorious characters, who afterwards met death at the hands of
vigilance committees, called respectively "Goggle-Eyed Ed" and "Smiley,"
whom he suspected of being at the head of the thieves. In less than ten
days he was in possession of their secrets, and was able to "spot" their
assistants, to arrest several aids and to recover some twenty horses,
besides a vast deal of other property, worth in the aggregate $10,000. He
discovered, among other things, that some of the soldiers were in the
habit of selling army horses to a certain saloon-keeper. Ten horses had
disappeared, but they could not be traced. He procured an assistant in the
person of a soldier, who succeeded in negotiating the sale of a horse to
this purchaser for a mere song, and was requested to deliver him at
midnight at the saloon. Stationing himself at a convenient point with a
companion, Cook saw an assistant of the purchaser mounted upon the horse
which the soldier detective had turned over to him, and start off at a
brisk gallop towards the north. Cook and his man followed at a safe
distance behind, through the darkness, over the plains and into the
mountains and out again, down to a secure hiding place on the St. Vrain,
where the rider stopped, after a fifteen hours' gallop, quite unconscious
that he had been pursued. Coming upon him Cook captured the rider and
twelve head of army horses, which were grazing near by. The details of
other captures made at this time are just as thrilling as this, but this
will serve as a specimen, and will help to explain the popularity which
Mr. Cook soon attained as an efficient officer--a popularity which a few
years afterwards elected him to the city marshalship in the face of
vigorous opposition by numerous contestants for the prize.
A strong point with Gen. Cook has ever been his splendid capacity for
organization and controlling men. This faculty makes him one of the most
capable as well as one of the most popular commanders of our militia, and
it has also aided him in making the Rocky Mountain Detective Agency, of
which he was the originator, one of the most efficient of the kind in the
world. It covers Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, New Mexico, Utah, Texas,
Wyoming, Arizona and California, the entire country north of Mexico and
between the Missouri river and the Pacific, besides having agents in all
the principal cities of the United States, and is perfectly organized,
every detail being understood and superintended by Mr. Cook. Its
operations have been very extensive and its "dead certainty" has made it a
terror to evil-doers. Cook has held his place at its head by the
undisputed right of superiority. As good a detective as the best of his
aides, he is a better commander and organizer than any of them. He is
versatile and quick to see a point, and just as quick in adapting himself
to circumstances. He knows when to smile, when to frown. He can drive
steers, play faro or become a lawyer when circumstances demand.
As an officer, Mr. Cook's career has been quite remarkable. He has almost
continuously since 1866 held some office besides that of superintendent of
detectives, which has placed him in positions of danger. Beginning as city
marshal, he held that place for years, and was afterwards deputy United
States marshal, sheriff of Arapahoe county eight years and also chief of
police. It is doubted whether there is a parallel case in the country,
especially in this far western country, where men are more often desperate
than elsewhere. During his experience he has arrested over three thousand
men, fully fifty of whom have been the most desperate murderers, whom he
has often taken at great disadvantage to himself. Of all these three
thousand he never allowed one to seriously hurt him, not one of them to
get away when taken, and not one to be violently dealt with when in his
hands as an officer. His remarkable success he attributes to the
observance of the following rules which he here prints for the benefit of
young officers:
I. Never hit a prisoner over the head with your pistol, because you may
afterwards want to use your weapon and find it disabled. Criminals often
conceal weapons and sometimes draw one when they are supposed to have been
disarmed.
II. Never attempt to make an arrest without being sure of your authority.
Either have a warrant or satisfy yourself thoroughly that the man whom you
seek to arrest has committed an offense.
III. When you attempt to make an arrest be on your guard. Give your man no
opportunity to draw a pistol. If the man is supposed to be a desperado,
have your pistol in your hand or be ready to draw when you make yourself
known. If he makes no resistance there will be no harm done by your
precaution. My motto has always been "It is better to kill two men than to
allow one to kill you."
IV. After your prisoner is arrested and disarmed treat him as a prisoner
should be treated--as kindly as his conduct will permit. You will find
that if you do not protect your prisoners when they are in your
possession, those whom you afterwards attempt to arrest will resist you
more fiercely, and if they think they will be badly dealt with after
arrest, will be inclined to sell their lives as dearly as possible.
V. Never trust much to the honor of prisoners. Give them no liberties
which might endanger your own safety or afford them an opportunity to
escape. Nine out of ten of them have no honor.
It will not be out of place to remark in closing, that Gen. Cook has never
violated a confidence and never failed to satisfy those by whom he was
engaged--whether private individuals, corporations, the army officials or
the public at large. Gen. Upton, who was the author of "Upton's Tactics,"
was in command in this district while Mr. Cook was chief detective. He
wrote of him on a certain occasion: "Mr. Cook is a reliable and an
experienced detective."
The _Tribune_ said of him when he was a candidate for sheriff in 1875: "He
is admirably adapted to the office to which he has been nominated. This
combination of good politics and exact fitness is the source of a great
deal of satisfaction to all genuine and steadfast republicans. No one
presumes to question D. J. Cook's official fidelity and efficiency. The
common verdict is that he has made the best sheriff Arapahoe county has
ever had. And the people in supporting him in the canvass, and voting for
him at the polls, support him and vote for him for sheriff. He will be
elected to discharge the duties of that office, and for nothing else. And
the people all have the certain assurance that he will discharge those
duties ably, faithfully, promptly and honestly; that he will surely arrest
criminals, and as surely keep them after arrest; that he will effectively
aid in the maintenance of peace and order in the community, and that he
will afford much sure protection to the persons and property of the
citizens."
He was elected sheriff in the contest above referred to, and after the
term of office had expired the _Rocky Mountain News_ summed up the results
of his term of office as follows:
"Money and property worth $80,000 was recovered and transferred to the
lawful owners. The press of the city was often placed under obligations
for valuable and timely information. Four gangs of railroad thieves were
effectively broken up in different parts of the state, and riot prevented
on several occasions. Three of the apprehended criminals were hanged after
transfer to the local authorities: Robert Shamle, in Georgetown, and
Woodruff and Seminole, in Golden. The beginning of the term was marked by
the arrest of the Italian murderers, nine in all, and its close by the
chase and capture of the Hayward murderers. During the four years ending
at noon to-day, Sheriff Cook and his deputies conveyed 121 prisoners to
the penitentiary at Cañon, and lost none by the way. There was no jail
delivery in Arapahoe county, nor was the board of commissioners at any
time asked to offer one cent as reward for the return of fugitives. During
the term three men were killed while resisting arrest, under orders of
Sheriff Cook. They were Doan, at Cheyenne; W. T. McLaughlin, at Garland,
and George Wilson, in Arizona. The sheriff and his force, during the term
under notice, recovered 315 head of stolen cattle and sent seven of the
thieves to Cañon. Also, fifty stolen horses, sending nine of the thieves
to Cañon. Of the cattle mentioned, Arapahoe county lost not a hoof during
the last eighteen months."
Indeed, during his entire career he has received many words of praise from
press and public, and has seldom been criticized for any other than
political reasons or because of personal spite which was the result of
treading upon tender corns in the discharge of official duty.
A HIDDEN TREASURE.
CHAPTER I.
AN INTERESTING BIT OF COLORADO HISTORY NEVER BEFORE PRINTED--THE
REYNOLDS GANG OF REBEL GUERRILLAS LEAVE TEXAS TO INVADE
COLORADO--AFTER A LONG RIDE, WITH MANY EXCITING INCIDENTS, THEY REACH
COLORADO--THEY ROB A BUCKSKIN COACH.
"It's no use, pard; the jig is up, and I'm goin' across the range mighty
shortly." The speaker was John Reynolds--miner, gambler, rebel guerrilla,
stage robber and cut-throat--as reckless a daredevil as ever met his just
deserts in the whole West. The person addressed was his partner in crime,
Albert Brown, a desperado like himself, a man hardened to scenes of
bloodshed and death, yet he brushed a tear from his eye as he turned to
get a drink of water for the dying man.
"If we could only have got to Denver, we'd have been all right," continued
Reynolds. "I've got over $60,000 buried not fifty miles from there in the
mountains, and I could go right to the spot where Jim and me buried it in
1864. But there's no use in me wastin' breath, for I'm to the end of my
rope now, an' I'll tell you just where it is, so that you can go an' get
it after you've planted me deep enough so the coyotes won't dig me up an'
gnaw my bones."
The dying man was sinking rapidly, but he went on: "Jim an' me buried it
the morning before the fight at the grove on Geneva gulch. You go up above
there a little ways and find where one of our horses mired down in a
swamp. On up at the head of the gulch we turned to the right and followed
the mountain around a little farther, an' just above the head of Deer
creek we found an old prospect hole at about timber line. There was
$40,000 in greenbacks, wrapped in silk oil cloth, an' three cans of gold
dust. We filled the mouth of the hole up with stones, an' ten steps below
there stuck a butcher knife into a tree about four feet from the ground
an' broke the handle off, an' left it pointing to the mouth of the hole."
Reynolds fell back exhausted, and asked Brown for a pencil, so that he
could draw him a map. Brown had no pencil, but breaking open a cartridge
he mixed the powder with some water, and as soon as Reynolds had revived a
little he drew a rude map of the locality on the back of an old letter.
Cautioning Brown to remember his directions, he fell back upon his rude
couch, and in a few minutes was dead.
Brown set to work to digging a grave in the dirt floor of the dugout, and
having no tools but a sharp stick, spent two days at the work. He placed
Reynolds' body in the shallow grave, covering it up carefully, then
carried stones and put over it in accordance with his agreement. As soon
as Brown completed his task, he secured his horses and started for Denver.
While he is on his way thither, we will improve the opportunity to relate
the history of the boldest band of robbers, and indeed, the only party of
rebel guerrillas that ever invaded Colorado, of which John Reynolds, whose
death we have just chronicled, was the last surviving member. Before
beginning the recital of our story proper, it might be well to give a
hasty sketch of the conditions prevailing in Colorado at the time our
story opens.
The population of Denver in 1861 was decidedly cosmopolitan. The mining
excitement had attracted hither men of almost every nationality,
profession and occupation on the globe. On the question of secession, then
the theme on every tongue, the people seemed pretty evenly divided. The
Unionists, however, seized upon the opportunity, and enlisting several
companies of militia, were soon masters of the situation. All suspects
were then called up to take the oath of allegiance. Those who refused to
do this were thrown into jail. Among those arrested were two brothers,
James and John Reynolds. They belonged to a large class of men just upon
the borderland of crime, working in the mines, driving bull teams,
steering for gambling houses, in fact, turning their hands to whatever
offered. Jack Robinson, a guard at the jail, was a fitting companion for
them, although he had not fallen under suspicion. One night while he was
on guard, a large party of suspects, known as the McKee party, broke jail
and made their escape, probably through the connivance of Robinson. At any
rate he carried food and supplies to them while they were concealed about
the city, and when they went south to join the rebel army, Robinson went
with them.
Early in 1864, James Reynolds, who was beginning to tire of the restraints
of military life, little irksome as they were among the irregulars under
the Confederate flag in Northern Texas, found himself at the head of a
company of fifty men, among whom were his brother, John, and Jack
Robinson. Then, too, Reynolds had an ambition to be a second Quantrell, to
be a freebooter, going where he pleased and plundering all who were not
strong enough to resist. He believed that with his company he could
imitate Quantrell's famous raid on Lawrence, overrun all Southern Colorado
and burn and sack the city of Denver, where he had been imprisoned. The
majority of his men were Texans, and they did not relish the idea of a
500-mile raid through a hostile country, so that when he got ready to
start, in April, 1864, he found that but twenty-two of his men would stay
with him. Nothing daunted, he resolved to push forward with this small
band, fully believing that he could get plenty of recruits in the mines,
where rebel sympathizers had been plentiful enough a few years before. In
this, as we shall learn later, he was badly disappointed, never securing a
single recruit. His friend, Col. McKee, gave them a pass through to
Belknap, and taking only a few rations they pushed on through the
Confederate lines. Once through the lines they rode swiftly westward
toward the Spanish peaks--grim beacons in an ocean of sand. When they ran
out of food they killed their pack animals, and thus managed to subsist
until they struck the Santa Fe trail.
They encountered a band of hostile Indians, but defeated them without
loss. A little further along the trail they met a wagon train which
Reynolds decided was too strong to be attacked, so he traded a horse for
some provisions. A few miles further up the trail they struck a Mexican
train, which they attacked and captured. Here they made a rich haul,
securing $40,000 in currency, $6,000 in drafts and about $2,000 in coin.
Taking arms, ammunition, provisions and such mules as they wanted, they
proceeded northward, leaving the Mexicans to get along as best they could.
A great deal of dissatisfaction had arisen among the members of the band
on account of Jim Reynolds taking possession of most of the money himself.
A portion of the gang sided in with Reynolds' theory that the captain
should have charge of the surplus funds, since he proposed to arm and
equip recruits as soon as they reached Colorado. Accordingly fourteen of
the party quit the gang and rode back toward Texas.
The little party now consisted of but nine men: James Reynolds, John
Reynolds, Jack Robinson, Tom Knight, Owen Singletary, John Babbitt, Jake
Stowe, John Andrews and Tom Halliman. That night they held a council of
war. It was decided to push on to Pueblo, then up the Arkansas into the
rich placer mining districts of the South park. Here they felt confident
of securing not only much plunder, but enough recruits to swoop down on
Denver. They cached a lot of their heavy plunder, consisting of extra
guns, ammunition and several hundred dollars of silver coin, which was too
heavy to be carried easily. Resting their horses, they moved on toward
Pueblo. Crossing the Arkansas at that place they rode on up the river to
where Cañon City now stands, where they went into camp. A man named
Bradley kept a store where the city now stands, and Reynolds dispatched
several of the gang with plenty of money to purchase clothing, provisions
and whisky. He did not go near Bradley himself, as he feared that
gentleman would recognize him, and Reynolds was not yet ready for trouble.
After having secured their supplies they pushed on to Current creek.
Finding there plenty of grass and water for their horses, they decided to
camp several days for rest and recuperation.
After holding another council they decided it would be better to push on
to California gulch (the present site of Leadville) in small squads so as
not to excite suspicion. After looking over the gulch for a day or two
they decided that the Buckskin and Mosquito camps offered better
opportunities for plunder. Accordingly the band reunited and came back
down the Arkansas, entering South park below Fairplay. They stopped for
the night at Guireaud's ranch, and Capt. Reynolds had a long talk with
Guireaud, with whom he seemed to be acquainted. He wrote several letters
to friends at Fairplay, and the next morning inquired of Guireaud what
time the coach left Buckskin, as he wanted to beat it to McLaughlin's
ranch to mail his letters. They at once set out for the ranch, which is
ten miles from Fairplay. On the road, Capt. Reynolds halted his men and
informed them that he proposed to rob the coach at McLaughlin's. When they
reached the creek below the ranch, they met McLaughlin and Maj. Demere,
and took them prisoners. McLaughlin was riding a very fine horse, and
Capt. Reynolds at once suggested that they swap. McLaughlin demurred, but
got down when Reynolds and several other members of the party drew their
guns. Reaching the ranch the party dismounted and put out a picket.
McLaughlin treated the men to some whisky and ordered his wife to prepare
dinner for the gang.
[Illustration: ROBBING A BUCKSKIN COACH.]
When the coach drew up, Reynolds stepped out and commanded the driver, Abe
Williamson, and Billy McClelland, the superintendent of the stage line,
who occupied the seat with the driver, to throw up their hands, one of his
men stepping in front of the horses at the same time. Their hands went up
promptly, and after being disarmed by another of the gang, Reynolds
ordered them to get down, at the same time demanding their money.
Williamson resented the idea of his having any money, saying that it was
the first time in all his travels that a stage driver had ever been
accused of having any of the long and needful green about his person. But
his talk didn't go with the bandits, and after searching him carefully
they found fifteen cents, which they took. Williamson's eyes scowled
hatred, and as will be learned later, he finally took an awful revenge for
the outrage. They "shook down" McClellan with much better results,
securing $400 in money and a valuable chronometer balance gold watch. They
then turned their attention to the express trunk, there being no
passengers on this trip. Halliman secured an axe to break it open, when
McClellan offered him the key. Reynolds refused the key, venturing the
opinion that they could soon get into it without the key. Breaking it open
they took out $6,000 worth of gold dust and $2,000 worth of gold amalgam
that John W. Smith was sending to the East, it being the first taken from
the Orphan Boy mine, as well as the first run from the stamp mill erected
in Mosquito gulch. Capt. Reynolds then ordered Halliman to cut open the
mail bags, passing him his dirk for the purpose. They tore open the
letters, taking what money they contained, which was considerable, as
nearly all the letters contained ten and twenty-dollar bills, which the
miners were sending back to their friends in the East. The haul amounted
to $10,000 in all, a much smaller sum than the coach usually carried out.
After having secured all the valuables, Capt. Reynolds ordered his men to
destroy the coach, saying that he wanted to damage the United States
government as much as possible. His men at once went to work to chopping
the spokes out of the wheels. They ate the dinner prepared by Mrs.
McLaughlin, and Capt. Reynolds then announced his determination to go on
to the Michigan ranch and secure the stage stock which were kept there.
Before leaving, he said to McClellan and the other captives, that if they
attempted to follow the bandits they would be killed, and that the best
thing they could do would be to remain quietly at the ranch for a day or
two, adding that they were only the advance guard of 1,500 Texas rangers
who were raiding up the park, saying also that 2,500 more Confederate
troops were on their way north and had probably reached Denver by that
time.
CHAPTER II.
THE WHOLE COUNTRY AROUSED--HUNDREDS OF ARMED MEN ON THEIR
TRAIL--REYNOLDS BECOMES ALARMED AND BURIES A LARGE PART OF THEIR
PLUNDER--THE PARTY ATTACKED IN CAMP--SINGLETARY KILLED AND CAPT.
REYNOLDS WOUNDED--THE BAND DISPERSED AND NEARLY ALL CAPTURED--BROUGHT
TO DENVER AND SENTENCED FOR LIFE.
They then rode away, leaving the settlers dumbfounded by the news. There
had long been rumors of such a raid, and there being neither telegraph nor
railroad, they had no means of verifying the reports. McClellan at once
announced his determination to alarm the mining camps of their danger, and
although his friends endeavored to dissuade him from his hazardous trip,
he mounted a mule and followed the robbers. He rode through Hamilton,
Tarryall and Fairplay, spreading the news and warning out citizens and
miners, arriving in due time at Buckskin. From there he sent runners to
California Gulch and other camps. McClellan himself stayed in the saddle
almost night and day for over a week, and in that time had the whole
country aroused. His energy and determined fearlessness probably saved
many lives and thousands of dollars worth of property.
Active measures were now taken for the capture of the guerrillas. Armed
bodies of miners and ranchmen started on their trail. Col. Chivington sent
troops from Denver to guard coaches and to assist in the capture. Gen.
Cook, at that time chief of government detectives for the department of
Colorado, accompanied the troops, and was soon on the trail of the
marauders. The news that a band of armed guerrillas was scouring the
country was dispatched by courier to Central City, and all the camps in
that vicinity were notified. Even south of the divide, at Pueblo and
Cañon, companies were organized, and it was but a question of a few days
at least when the band would be wiped out. Indeed, if there had been
4,000 of them as Reynolds had reported, instead of a little band of nine,
they would have been gobbled up in short order.
Reaching the Michigan house the guerrillas took the stage horses and
robbed the men who kept the station. Going on they passed the Kenosha
house, stopping at various ranches and taking whatever they wanted, and
robbing everybody they met. Passing Parmelee's and Haight's, they camped
near the deserted St. Louis house, and at daybreak moved on to the Omaha
house for breakfast. Besides refusing to pay for their meal, they robbed
all the travelers camped around the station except an Irishman hauling
freight to Georgia gulch. He gave them the pass word and grips of the
Knights of the Golden Circle, and was allowed to go on unmolested. While
here they found out that large bodies of citizens were in pursuit, and
they decided to move off the main road; so after leaving the Omaha house
they turned off and went up Deer creek to the range. Just after they had
gotten off the road into the timber a posse of twenty-two mounted men
passed up the road toward the Omaha house. After awhile they saw another
party evidently following their trail. Capt. Reynolds took a spyglass, and
finding that there were but eighteen of them decided to fight. He strung
his men out in single file in order to make a plain trail, and after going
about a mile, doubled back and ambushed his men at the side of the trail.
Fortunately for the pursuing party, they turned back before they were in
gunshot of the guerrillas. Whether they scented danger, or were tired of
following what they thought was a cold trail, is not known, but it was
probably the latter, as the Reynolds gang was not molested that day nor
the next, although with the aid of his glass Reynolds saw scouting parties
scouring the mountains in every direction. He saw that they were likely to
be captured and resolved to scatter the band in order to escape, hoping to
be able to rendezvous away down near the Greenhorn.
Capt. Reynolds decided that it would be prudent to conceal the greater
portion of their spoils until the excitement had died down somewhat.
Calling his brother, John, they passed up the little creek that ran by
their camp until they reached its head. Elk creek also heads near
there. They found a prospect hole which they thought would answer their
purpose. Capt. Reynolds took from his saddle-bags $40,000 in currency and
three cans full of gold dust, about $63,000 in all, leaving one large can
of gold dust and considerable currency to be divided among the band before
separating. They wrapped the currency up in a piece of silk oil cloth and
put it and the cans back in the hole about the length of a man's body.
Returning to the camp, Capt. Reynolds told his men that there were no
pursuers in sight, and announced his determination to disperse the band
temporarily, as he believed there was no chance of escape if they remained
together. He described the place of rendezvous mentioned, and told them
that it would be safe to move on down to a grove of large trees on Geneva
gulch, a short distance below, and camp for dinner, as there was no one in
sight. They went on down and camped, and turned their horses loose to
graze while dinner was being gotten.
[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE ROBBERS' CAMP.]
Two of the men were getting dinner, and the others were gathered around
Capt. Reynolds, who was busily dividing the remaining money and gold dust
among them, when suddenly a dozen guns cracked from behind some large
rocks about 220 yards from the outlaws' camp. Owen Singletary fell dead,
and Capt. Reynolds, who was at that moment dipping gold dust from a can
with a spoon, was wounded in the arm. The outlaws at once broke for the
brush, a few even leaving their horses.
The attacking party, which consisted of twelve or fifteen men from Gold
Run under the leadership of Jack Sparks, had crawled around the mountain
unobserved until they reached the rocks, and then fired a volley into the
robber band. When the robbers took to the brush, they went down to their
camp and secured several horses, the can of gold dust, the amalgam that
was taken from the coach at McLaughlin's, Billy McClellan's watch, and a
lot of arms, etc. It was coming on night, and after searching the gulches
for a while in vain, they cut off Singletary's head, which they took to
Fairplay as a trophy of the fight. This was July 31, 1864.
The next day Halliman was captured at the Nineteen-mile ranch, and they
kept picking up the guerrillas one or two at a time until the
Thirty-nine-mile ranch was reached. John Reynolds and Jake Stowe, who were
traveling together, were pursued clear across the Arkansas river, but they
finally escaped, although Stowe was severely wounded.
The remainder of the party were brought from Fairplay to Denver under a
heavy guard and placed in jail. They were given a sham trial, and as it
could not be proven that they had taken life they were sentenced to
imprisonment for life, although a great many of the citizens thought they
richly deserved hanging. While the party were in jail in Denver, Gen. Cook
had a long talk with Jim Reynolds, the captain, and tried to find out from
him what disposition had been made of all the money and valuables the
robbers were known to have captured, knowing that they must have concealed
it somewhere, since they had but little when captured. Reynolds refused to
tell, saying that it was "safe enough," and afterwards adding they had
"sent it home."
CHAPTER III.
THEY ARE STARTED TO FORT LYON--THEY UNDERSTAND THAT THEY ARE TO BE
KILLED--A BLOODTHIRSTY SERGEANT AND A BUNGLING EXECUTION--LEFT FOR
DEAD, JOHN ANDREWS ESCAPES--THE GANG FINALLY WIPED OUT--UNSUCCESSFUL
SEARCH FOR THE BURIED TREASURE.
About the first week in September the Third Colorado cavalry, commanded by
Col. Chivington, was ordered out against the Indians. Capt. Cree, of
Company A, was directed to take the six prisoners from the county jail to
Fort Lyon for "safe keeping," and to shoot every one of them if "they made
any attempt to escape." The prisoners knew that they would be shot if the
soldiers could find the slightest pretext for so doing. The troop was
composed of citizens of Denver and vicinity, some of whom had suffered
from the depredations of the gang. One man they particularly feared was
Sergt. Abe Williamson, who, it will be remembered, drove the coach which
they robbed at McLaughlin's. As they left the jail, Jim Reynolds called
out to Gen. Cook, who stood near watching the procession start, "Good-bye,
Dave; this is the end of us." He did not know how soon his prediction was
to be fulfilled.
The first night out they camped eight miles from Denver, on Cherry creek.
The prisoners were given an opportunity to escape, but they knew better
than to try it. The next day the troops moved on to Russelville, where
they camped for the night. Again the prisoners were given a chance to
escape, but were afraid to try it.
The next morning they were turned over to a new guard, under command of
Sergt. Williamson. They were marched about five miles from camp, and
halted near an abandoned log cabin. Williamson now told the prisoners that
they were to be shot; that they had violated not only the civil but the
military law, and that he had orders for their execution. Capt. Reynolds
pleaded with him to spare their lives, reminding him of the time when the
robbers had him in their power and left him unharmed. Williamson's only
reply was the brutal retort that they "had better use what little time
they still had on earth to make their peace with their Maker." They were
then blindfolded, the soldiers stepped back ten paces, and Sergt.
Williamson gave the order, "Make ready!" "Ready!" "Aim!" "Fire!" The sight
of six unarmed, blindfolded, manacled prisoners being stood up in a row to
be shot down like dogs unnerved the soldiers, and at the command to fire
they raised their pieces and fired over the prisoners, so that but one man
was killed, Capt. Reynolds, and he was at the head of the line opposite
Williamson. Williamson remarked that they were "mighty poor shots," and
ordered them to reload. Then several of the men flatly announced that they
would not be parties to any such cold-blooded murder, and threw down their
guns, while two or three fired over their heads again at the second fire,
but Williamson killed his second man. Seeing that he had to do all the
killing himself, Williamson began cursing the cowardice of his men, and
taking a gun from one of them, shot his third man. At this juncture, one
of his men spoke up and said he would help Williamson finish the sickening
job. Suiting the action to the word, he raised his gun and fired, and the
fourth man fell dead. Then he weakened, and Williamson was obliged to
finish the other two with his revolver. The irons were then removed from
the prisoners, and their bodies were left on the prairie to be devoured by
the coyotes. Williamson and his men rejoined their command and proceeded
on to Fort Lyon, with Williamson evidently rejoicing in the consciousness
of duty well done.
Several hours afterward one of the prisoners, John Andrews, recovered
consciousness. Although shot through the breast, he managed to crawl to
the cabin and dress his wound as best he could. He found a quantity of
dried buffalo meat, left there by the former occupants, upon which he
managed to subsist for several days, crawling to a spring near by for
water. About a week later, Andrews, who had recovered wonderfully, hailed
a horseman who was passing, and asked him to carry a note to a friend in
the suburbs of Denver. The stranger agreed to do this, and Andrews eagerly
awaited the coming of his friend, taking the precaution, however, to
secrete himself near the cabin for fear the stranger might betray him. On
the third day a covered wagon drove up to the cabin, and he was delighted
to hear the voice of his friend calling him. His friend, who was J. N.
Cochran, concealed him in the wagon, and taking him home, secured medical
attendance, and by careful nursing soon had him restored to health and his
wounds entirely healed. While staying with Cochran, Andrews related to him
the history of the guerrilla band as it is given here, with the exception
of the story of the buried treasure, which neither he nor any of the other
members of the band, except Jim and John Reynolds, knew anything about.
[Illustration: EXECUTION OF THE ROBBERS.]
When he had fully recovered, Andrews decided to make an effort to find
John Reynolds and Stowe, who, he thought, had probably gone south to Santa
Fe. Cochran gave him a horse, and leaving Denver under cover of darkness,
he rode southward. Reaching Santa Fe, he soon found Reynolds and Stowe,
and the three survivors decided to go up on the Cimarron, where they had
cached a lot of silver and other plunder taken from the Mexican wagon
train on the way out from Texas. Their horses giving out, they attacked a
Mexican ranch to get fresh ones. During the fight Stowe was killed, but
Reynolds and Andrews succeeded in getting a couple of fresh horses and
making their escape. They rode on to the Cimarron, and found the stuff
they had hidden, and then started back over the old trail for Texas. The
second day out, they were overtaken by a posse of Mexicans from the ranch
where they had stolen the horses, and after a running fight of two or
three miles, Andrews was killed. Reynolds escaped down the dry bed of a
small arroyo, and finally succeeded in eluding his pursuers. Returning to
Santa Fe, he changed his name to Will Wallace, and lived there and in
small towns in that vicinity for several years, making a living as a
gambler. Tiring of the monotony of this kind of a life, Reynolds formed a
partnership with another desperado by the name of Albert Brown, and again
started out in the holdup business. They soon made that country too hot to
hold them, and in October, 1871, they started toward Denver.
When near the Mexican town of Taos, they attempted to steal fresh horses
from a ranch one night, and Reynolds was mortally wounded by two Mexicans,
who were guarding the corral. Brown killed both of them, and throwing
Reynolds across his horse, carried him for several miles. At length he
found an abandoned dugout near a little stream. Leaving his wounded
comrade there, he set out to conceal their horses after having made
Reynolds as comfortable as possible. He found a little valley where there
was plenty of grass and water, about two miles up the cañon. Leaving his
horses there, he hastened back to the dugout, where he found Reynolds in a
dying condition, and the conversation related in the first chapter of this
story took place.
[Illustration: Reynold's Map. Star shows location of treasure.]
Brown pushed on northward to Pueblo, intending to push his way along the
Arkansas on up into the park, but found that the snow was already too
deep. Returning to Pueblo, he pushed on to Denver. He stayed there all
winter, selling his horses and living upon the proceeds. When spring came
he was broke, but had by chance made the acquaintance of J. N. Cochran,
who had befriended John Andrews, one of the gang, years before. Finding
that Cochran already knew a great deal about the gang, and needing some
one who had money enough to prosecute the search, he decided to take
Cochran into his confidence. Cochran was an old '58 pioneer, and had been
all over the region where the treasure was hidden, and knowing that Brown,
who had never been in Colorado before, could not possibly have made so
accurate a map of the locality himself, agreed to fit out an outfit to
search for the treasure. They took the map drawn by Reynolds while dying,
and followed the directions very carefully, going into the park by the
stage road over Kenosha hill, then following the road down the South
Platte to Geneva gulch, a small stream flowing into the Platte. Pursuing
their way up the gulch, they were surprised at the absence of timber,
except young groves of "quaking asp," which had apparently grown up within
a few years. They soon found that a terrible forest fire had swept over
the entire region only a short time after the outlaws were captured,
destroying all landmarks so far as timber was concerned.
They searched for several days, finding an old white hat, supposed to be
Singletary's, near where they supposed the battle to have taken place, and
above there some distance a swamp, in which the bones of a horse were
found, but they could not find any signs of a cave. Running out of
provisions they returned to Denver, and after outfitting once more
returned to the search, this time going in by way of Hepburn's ranch. They
found the skeleton of a man, minus the head (which is preserved in a jar
of alcohol at Fairplay), supposed to be the remains of Owen Singletary.
They searched carefully over all the territory shown on the map, but
failed to find the treasure cave. Cochran finally gave up the search, and
he and Brown returned again to Denver.
Brown afterward induced two other men to go with him on a third
expedition, which proved as fruitless as the other two trips. On their
return, Brown and his companions, one of whom was named Bevens and the
other an unknown man, held up the coach near Morrison and secured about
$3,000. Brown loafed around Denver until his money was all gone, when he
stole a team of mules from a man in West Denver, and skipped out, but was
captured with the mules in Jefferson county by Marshal Hopkins. Brown was
brought to Denver and put in jail, while Gen. Cook was serving his second
term as sheriff. When Sheriff Willoughby took charge in 1873, Brown
slipped away from the jailer and concealed himself until he had an
opportunity to escape. He went to Cheyenne, and from there to Laramie
City, where he was killed in a drunken row.
Gen. Cook secured Brown's map, and a full account of the outlaw's career
substantially as given here, and although he has had many opportunities to
sell it to parties who wished to hunt for the treasure, he declined all of
them, preferring rather to wait for the publication of this work. There is
no question but that the treasure is still hidden in the mountain, and,
although the topography of the country has been changed somewhat in the
last thirty-three years by forest fires, floods and snow-slides, some one
may yet be fortunate enough to find it.
CAPTURE OF THE ALLISON GANG.
CHAPTER IV.
A BAND OF STAGE ROBBERS IN SOUTHERN COLORADO TERRORIZE THE WHOLE
COUNTRY--THEY EVEN LOOT ENTIRE TOWNS--A BIG REWARD OFFERED--CAPTURED
BY FRANK HYATT, ONE OF THE SHINING LIGHTS OF THE ASSOCIATION, WITHOUT
A SHOT BEING FIRED.
Frank A. Hyatt, of Alamosa, Colo., assistant superintendent of the Rocky
Mountain Detective Association for the district embracing Arizona, New
Mexico and southern Colorado, has a greater string of captures of
criminals and desperadoes to his credit than any other officer in that
section. He served three years as city marshal of Alamosa, when that town
was accounted one of the toughest places in the Southwest, and has been
for twenty years deputy sheriff of Conejos county, Colorado. The people of
that section have learned to appreciate his worth, and when desperate
criminals are to be taken Frank Hyatt is the first man called upon. Plain,
modest and unassuming, Mr. Hyatt does not pose as a man-killer, although
he has more than once taken his life in his hands in desperate encounters
with criminals, and has been compelled to take human life to save his own.
His rule has been to capture his men by strategy, leaving the law to deal
justice to them, rather than to kill them in trying to make arrests. He is
still deputy sheriff of Conejos county, and his name is as much of a
terror to evil-doers as of old, although he does not employ as much of his
time in hunting bad men as he did in the early '80's. In fact, the bad men
have learned to shun his section pretty carefully.
Mr. Hyatt is engaged in the manufacture and sale of a patent handcuff, the
best thing of the kind made, of which he is also the inventor. It is known
as the "Dead Cinch," and once it is snapped on a prisoner he can not
escape. Give him the key and he can not unlock it; still his hands have
more freedom than with the old-style handcuff. One hand can be loosened
to allow the prisoner to feed himself, while the other is held fast in its
grip. It is almost indispensable to officers, who have charge of
desperadoes, or even of the insane, as hundreds of sheriffs, policemen and
other officers scattered over Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah can
attest.
[Illustration: "DEAD CINCH" HAND CUFFS.]
One of Mr. Hyatt's greatest exploits was the capture of the Allison gang
of stage robbers in 1881, shortly after he became a member of the
association. This gang was composed of Charles Allison, Lewis Perkins and
Henry Watts. Allison was a Nevada horse thief, who had escaped from
Sheriff Mat. Kyle, of Virginia City, while that officer was conveying him
to the state penitentiary at Carson City, after his conviction and
sentence for ten years, in 1878, by jumping from the train. He made his
escape and came to Colorado. In some way he ingratiated himself into the
good opinion of Sheriff Joe Smith, of Conejos county, and was made a
deputy sheriff. For a time he performed the duties of his position very
satisfactorily, but he finally drifted into the holdup business, while
still a deputy sheriff, with Perkins and Watts as his partners.
Alamosa, in the spring of 1881, was the terminus of the Denver and Rio
Grande railroad, and stages ran from there in nearly every direction. This
afforded a fruitful field for the robbers and in less than a month they
had robbed five coaches, securing plunder worth several thousand dollars.
Emboldened by their successes, they decided to operate on a larger scale,
and riding into Chama, N. M., they terrorized the inhabitants by firing
off their revolvers. When most of the inhabitants had sought places of
safety, they went through the stores at their leisure, taking all the
money they could find and what other stuff they wanted. A few days later
they repeated the experiment at Pagosa Springs, Colo., and were again
successful.
By this time the people were thoroughly aroused. Gov. Pitkin offered
$1,000 reward for the capture of Allison, and $250 each for the other two,
and the stage company offered an additional $250, which last, we may
remark parenthetically, was never paid. Notwithstanding the heavy rewards
offered, no one seemed to care about hunting up the outlaws. They were
known to be well armed and equipped, and it was thought that as they would
in all probability be lynched if caught, they would not surrender,
preferring rather to die fighting. Judge Hayt, now chief justice of the
state supreme court, was at that time district attorney for the twelfth
district, with headquarters at Alamosa. He sent for Hyatt and asked him if
he would not go after the robbers if he would issue a warrant. He replied
that while everybody thought they couldn't be taken, and that he was only
a young and inexperienced officer, he would do his best.
Hayt issued the warrant, and Hyatt secured the services of Hank Dorris, an
old ranchman, on whom he could rely; Miles Blaine, an Alamosa saloon
keeper, and Cy. Afton, a painter, and at once started after the gang. It
was soon learned that they had gone almost due south from Chama, and Hyatt
divined immediately that they had gone to Albuquerque, N. M. Putting his
men on the train, they all rode to Española, the end of the road, and from
there they went by stage on to Santa Fe, and then took the train for
Albuquerque. Hyatt felt sure that the robbers would cross the Rio Grande
at that point, so he put his men to guarding the bridge, while he inquired
about town to learn whether they had already passed through or not. He
could find no traces of them, so he concluded that they had not yet
reached the city. After waiting all day and all night, Hyatt decided to
leave his men there, and go back up the road himself to Bernalillo,
eighteen miles above, to look for them there.
Hyatt got off the train at Bernalillo and went into a restaurant to get
breakfast, and while he was eating who should walk in but the very men he
was after! They set their three Winchesters by the door, and as they
seated themselves at the table Allison drew his two revolvers from his
belt and laid them on his lap.
It was a trying moment. Allison had been slightly acquainted with Hyatt,
while they were both serving as deputy sheriffs of Conejos county, and had
the detective given a sign of recognition would have shot him dead before
he could reach a gun. Hyatt's face remained as immovable as that of the
Sphinx. He simply looked up, said "Good morning, gentlemen," and went on
nonchalantly eating his breakfast.
His conduct disarmed the suspicions of the men, and when he had finished
his meal he walked out as unconcernedly as if there were no stage robbers
within a thousand miles. He went to the depot, where he could watch their
movements, and when they had come out and rode off southward sent a
dispatch to his assistants at Albuquerque to meet them on their way, and
telling them that he would follow on horseback. Then he went to looking
for a horse. There was none to be had. Finally an old Mexican drove in
with two fine horses hitched to a wagon. After some parley, he agreed to
furnish a horse and go with Hyatt for $100. They set out and followed the
robbers, keeping within sight of them, until they stopped about two miles
from Albuquerque.
Meanwhile they had seen no signs of Dorris, Blaine and Afton, who should
have met them before this. Hyatt and the Mexican cut across toward town
and found their men just saddling up to start, having only just then
received the telegram. The robbers had camped within sight of town, and
Hyatt thought they might be decoyed into town and taken without bloodshed.
He knew that somebody would be killed if they attempted to capture them in
their camp.
At this juncture, Jeff Grant, a liveryman, volunteered to go out to the
robbers' camp and try to bring them in. He got on a bareback horse, and
pretended to be looking for horses that had strayed off. He went up to the
camp, inquiring about horses, and finally struck up a conversation with
them. Allison told him they were on their way to Lincoln county, N. M.,
Grant fell in with the idea at once, and told Allison that he wanted to
go down there himself about the 19th of June (this was Saturday, the
17th), and would like to have them wait and go with him. They claimed they
were short of funds, but Grant told them that he owned a livery stable,
and that it should not cost them anything to stay over a couple of days
and rest up. He added that the reason he wanted them to go with him was
that he was going to take down a string of race horses and quite a sum of
money to back them with, and as the country was infested with thieves and
desperadoes, he did not like to go alone.
[Illustration: Arrest of the Allison Gang at Albuquerque by Marshal
Hyatt.]
This decided the robbers. Here was a good chance to rest up their jaded
animals at some one else's expense, and also a prospect of some very good
picking afterward. Of course, they would wait and go along with him if
that was the case.
Pretty soon Hyatt and his men saw the four men come riding into town. They
hastily concealed themselves in the barn, Hyatt climbing into the hay mow,
and the others getting back in the mangers. They had but a minute to wait.
The men rode into the barn, dismounted, and Grant led the horses back.
The three men stood close together. "Throw up your hands!" commanded
Hyatt. They hesitated a moment, but when they caught the gleam of a
Winchester only a few feet from their heads, three pairs of hands shot up
instanter. They were disarmed and put in chains in a few moments, and
telegrams were sent out announcing their capture.
Some of the local authorities were disposed to interfere in the case, and
to avoid any trouble in getting a requisition, Hyatt agreed to turn over
the $500 reward offered by Gov. Shelton of New Mexico to them. It was a
cowardly holdup, but Hyatt couldn't well help himself, as the big end of
the reward was offered by Gov. Pitkin, and he had to get the prisoners to
Colorado in order to get it.
They were allowed to depart with their prisoners, and in due time reached
Alamosa without further incident. They placed them in jail, and Hyatt,
almost worn out with loss of sleep, went home and went to bed. In a few
minutes he was awakened by a messenger from Mayor Broadwell saying that a
mob was being formed to take the prisoners from the jail and lynch them.
Hyatt at once gathered a crowd of his friends, among whom were Judge
Hayt, Mayor Broadwell, Hon. Alva Adams, now governor of Colorado, and a
number of others, and took the prisoners from the jail, put them in a
caboose with an engine attached, which the mob had provided to take them
outside of town before stringing them up, and signalled to the engineer to
pull out, with an angry mob of several hundred following.
They escaped from the mob, and the next day the three prisoners were
placed behind the bars of the Arapahoe county jail at Denver. Gov. Pitkin
promptly paid Mr. Hyatt the $1,500 reward, and gave him $50 out of his own
pocket.
When the excitement had partially subsided the three men were taken back
to Conejos, the county seat, tried, convicted, and sentenced to the pen
for thirty-seven years each.
Perkins was pardoned out after having served eight years, and is now
running a big saloon and gambling hall at Trinidad, and is supposed to be
worth at least $25,000. Allison was pardoned after having served ten
years, and is now tending bar in a Butte City, Mont., saloon under an
assumed name. Watts, the third member of the gang, was pardoned out at the
same time Allison was let out, and afterward joined a band of train
robbers and was killed in Arizona about two years ago.
A COWBOY'S SAD FATE.
CHAPTER V.
BOLD, RECKLESS, JOHNNY VAN PELT ASSISTS A FRIEND TO ESCAPE FROM JAIL
AT BUENA VISTA--RIDES BOLDLY INTO ALAMOSA IN DAYLIGHT AND IS KILLED BY
MARSHAL HYATT WHILE RESISTING ARREST.
Johnny Van Pelt, a cowboy, who used to make his headquarters at Alamosa,
was as reckless a lad as ever punched cattle in southern Colorado, a
region particularly known for its tough characters, and while there was
nothing exceptionally bad in his make-up, his recklessness and his desire
to help a friend out of trouble cost him his life, and very nearly
resulted in the death of two brave officers.
William Morgan, an old acquaintance of Van Pelt's, was in jail in Buena
Vista, charged with the murder of his father-in-law. He managed to get
word to Van Pelt in some way that he was in jail, asking him to assist him
in escaping. Van Pelt at once quit work, and getting a couple of saddle
horses, he helped Morgan to break jail, and the precious pair rode
southward, intending to go to Old Mexico. They traveled on down the valley
until they reached Hank Dorris' ranch, fourteen miles above Alamosa.
Dorris had known Van Pelt, and their idea in stopping there was to borrow
some money. He was not at home, and they staid around two or three days
waiting for his return, sending word by one of his friends that they were
there waiting to see him. Shortly after their arrival at the ranch,
Marshal Frank Hyatt, of Alamosa, received a telegram from Sheriff J. J.
Salla, of Buena Vista, offering $50 reward for the capture of Morgan and
Van Pelt. He kept a close look-out for a day or two, when he happened to
run across his old friend, Dorris, of whom he made inquiries as to whether
any one answering their description had been seen up the valley. Dorris
was surprised to learn that Van Pelt was a fugitive from justice, and
telling Marshal Hyatt that he had just received word from his ranch that
they were there waiting for him, volunteered to go out and help the
officer get them. Dorris was sitting on his horse and Marshal Hyatt was
just going after his own animal when Van Pelt rode up and tied his horse
in front of the postoffice. He spoke pleasantly to the two officers, and
when he had tied his horse, stepped up and shook hands with the marshal.
As he did so the marshal said, "Johnny, I guess I will have to hold you
awhile." Van Pelt jumped back, and drawing a revolver from each overcoat
pocket leveled them at the marshal's breast.
Although the desperado had the drop on him, the brave officer never
flinched. He dared not attempt to draw a gun, so he decided to talk Van
Pelt out of shooting. Looking him straight in the eye, he said: "Don't
shoot, Johnny; you haven't done anything to shoot me for." Van Pelt, his
eyes still glaring with savage hate, evidently decided not to add
cold-blooded murder to his crimes, but keeping the officer covered,
commenced backing away to where his horse was tied. Just then Dorris, who
had slipped off his horse while the parley was going on, grabbed Van Pelt
from behind. The desperado jerked loose from Dorris, and, whirling around,
fired at him, the ball cutting through his coat and vest and cutting a
cigar in his vest pocket in two, but doing no serious damage. He then
turned and fired at Marshal Hyatt, who had torn his overcoat open and
gotten his own gun by this time. Then began a three-cornered battle--Van
Pelt retreating toward his horse, and firing as he went, with the two
officers following closely, and keeping up a fusillade of bullets.
When Van Pelt reached the telegraph pole where his horse was tied, he took
shelter behind it, and commenced to untie his horse with his left hand,
while he kept shooting with his right. Just as he got his horse untied,
Hyatt and Dorris both fired, and both shots took effect, one entering the
breast and the other smashing his thigh. He dropped his remaining gun, let
go his horse, and still holding to the pole, sank slowly to the earth,
saying "I'm killed." In twenty minutes he was dead.
Leaving the coroner to take charge of Van Pelt, Hyatt and Dorris hurriedly
mounted their horses and started for the latter's ranch to secure Morgan.
Arriving at the ranch, they found Morgan busy getting supper, having
unbuckled his belt containing his revolvers and thrown it on a lounge. At
Hyatt's command, he put up his hands with alacrity. It was but the work of
a few minutes to tie him securely, and Marshal Hyatt was soon on his way
back to Alamosa with the fugitive.
[Illustration: Killing of Van Pelt on the Streets of Alamosa by Officers
Hyatt and Dorris.]
But little else remains to be told. The verdict of the coroner's jury was
that the officers had killed Van Pelt while in the discharge of their
duty. Thomas O'Connor, a shoemaker, who stuck his head out of the shop
door when the shooting began, was struck in the cheek by a glancing
bullet, but was not seriously injured. Morgan, the man who caused all the
trouble, was taken up to Buena Vista, tried for the murder of his
father-in-law, convicted, and sentenced to the penitentiary for eight
years. People generally thought he should have been hung, as he was the
cause of at least three deaths. After her husband's murder, his
mother-in-law died of grief, and Van Pelt, as has been related, was killed
while trying to help the murderer escape.
DENVER'S LAST LEGAL HANGING.
CHAPTER VI.
TWO DRUNKEN NEGRO HOLDUPS MURDER STREET CAR DRIVER JOE
WHITNAH--OFFICERS ON THE WRONG TRACK--THE MURDERER TALKS TOO MUCH AND
GEN. COOK HEARS OF IT--BOTH MEN SOON IN THE TOILS--GREEN IS HANGED AND
WITHERS GOES TO THE PEN FOR LIFE.
The murder of Street Car Driver Joseph C. Whitnah by the two negroes,
Green and Withers, is noted not only for the cold-blooded nature of the
crime, but for the swift retribution which followed.
Whitnah was shot dead by Andy Green, a negro tough, on the night of May
19, 1886, in the boot of his car, at the Gallup turn-table at Alameda
avenue, on Broadway street, in Denver. Green and an accomplice named John
Withers, generally known as "Kansas" by his associates, were bent on
robbery. Denver did not then have her splendid system of cable and
electric cars, but the old-fashioned horse cars in a measure filled their
place. These cars carried no conductor, the passenger simply depositing
his fare in a little box in the front of the car in sight of the driver,
who also carried a box containing change for the accommodation of such
passengers as might not have the requisite nickel. Sometimes the driver
would have as much as $20 or $25 in his possession--scarcely enough to
tempt the average highwayman.
About 10 o'clock on the night of the murder, several parties living in the
vicinity of the turn-table heard a shot, then a scream, and then another
shot. A number of men ran to the scene of the shooting, but Whitnah, the
driver, was dead when they reached him. One or two of them had seen a man
running from the scene immediately after the shooting, but whether he was
white or black they could not tell.
The police soon arrived, but not a single clue to the perpetrators of
the dastardly crime could be obtained. What made the case all the more
difficult was the total absence of any apparent motive for the crime. The
money box had not been touched, and the young man, who was popular and
well liked by every one, was not known to have an enemy in the world.
Another thing which greatly complicated the case, was the number of
robberies and holdups that occurred the same night, and the officers
vainly tried to connect this crime with some of the others.
[Illustration: Killing of Street Car Driver Whitnah by Green and Withers.]
Since there was apparently no attempt at robbery, many people believed
that there was a woman in the case, and Sheriff Cramer and his deputies
went so far as to assert they had positive evidence that the crime had
been committed by one of the men who was first on the scene, a blacksmith
by the name of F. O. Peterson. He was held by the coroner's jury for
several days--long enough for the actual murderers to have escaped had
they chosen to do so--but was finally discharged, there being not a
particle of evidence against him.
Gen. Cook had taken a great deal of interest in the case from the start.
Whitnah had formerly been employed by him on his ranch near Denver, and as
he was an honest, industrious and inoffensive young man, Gen. Cook was
very anxious to have his murderer caught and punished. Although not
connected with either the sheriff's office or the police department at the
time, Gen. Cook had gone quietly to work making inquiries on his own
account, having confidence in the old adage, "Murder will out." He soon
learned that a negro named Larry Foutz who hung out at a very disreputable
Larimer street saloon, had been dropping a hint or two to his associates
that he could tell a whole lot about the mysterious murder if he chose,
and at once had him brought to the office of the Rocky Mountain Detective
Association. Foutz did not deny having knowledge of the crime, but wanted
to be assured by Gov. Eaton personally that he would receive the $500
reward which had been offered for the arrest of the murderer in case he
gave information that would lead to the arrest of the guilty parties. Gen.
Cook at once took him to the governor, who gave him the assurance asked
for, and Foutz immediately put Gen. Cook into possession of the principal
facts in the case, and enabled him to arrest the murderers within a very
few minutes.
Foutz's story was to the effect that he had talked to Green that evening
at the saloon, and that Green had proposed that Foutz and "Kansas" Withers
should go out with him and rob a street car driver. Foutz seemed to
consider the proposition very favorably, but got very drunk before they
got ready to start and was left behind. He talked to Green the day after
the killing, and Green told him that the reason they killed Whitnah was
that he did not throw up his hands when commanded, as he was turning his
car. Green fired a shot to scare him, and he gave a couple of loud
screams. Green then stepped closer and shot him through the body, and he
immediately fell back dead. Withers was to have secured the money box, but
when the shooting occurred he ran like a deer. Green heard a man coming
and he followed Withers.
Gen. Cook lost no time in arresting the two men. He went to Chief of
Police Hogle and found that Green, who had been arrested and fined for
carrying concealed weapons a few days before, was still on the chain gang
in North Denver. The patrol wagon was secured, and in less than an hour
Green was in jail. Withers was carrying a hod on a new building going up
on Arapahoe street. He was at once taken into custody, and confessed his
share in the crime before the jail was reached. His confession did not
differ materially from the story already related by Foutz, except that he
insisted that he was not a party to the killing, having told Green that he
would not go along if there was to be any shooting.
Green was much more reticent and could not be induced to talk for a long
time. Being told that Withers had already confessed he at length decided
to tell his side of the case. He had nothing new to tell as the detectives
already knew he was the man who had committed the cruel murder. He denied
that he had gone out there with any intention of killing the driver, but
simply fired the first shot to scare him, and as the ball was afterward
found lodged in the top of the car, his story was undoubtedly true. He
said that Whitnah's screams scared him, and he made another step or two
towards him and then fired to kill him, as he said, "To stop his d----d
racket." He then ran after Withers. They then went to their homes and went
to bed, and had it not been for Foutz's talk might never have been
suspicioned of the crime.
[Illustration: Hanging of Andrew Green in the bed of Cherry Creek July 27,
1886.]
A mob of several hundred men and boys was formed the night after their
capture, to break into the jail and hang the two negroes, but lacking
leadership it was soon dispersed by the police.
Public excitement and the danger of lynching induced the calling of a
special grand jury, the indictment of Green and Withers and a speedy
trial. They were tried separately. On the 22d of June the trial of Green
opened. Two days were spent empaneling a jury, and on June 25 he was
convicted of murder in the first degree, and sentenced to be hanged on
July 27. Withers was allowed to plead guilty to murder in the second
degree, and was sentenced to the state penitentiary at Cañon City for
life, where he is now serving his time, having made two or three
ineffectual attempts to secure a pardon.
The efforts of Green's attorneys to secure a new trial were unsuccessful,
and he was executed on the day set by Judge Elliott, July 27. The
scaffold, which was a very simple affair of the "twitch up" variety, was
erected in the bend of Cherry creek, directly east of the Smith chapel,
West Denver, and about midway between Broadway and Colfax Avenue bridges.
The execution was public and free to everybody, and the crowd was
estimated at 15,000. Green stepped upon the low scaffold in an easy,
careless manner, fully conscious of the fact that he was entertaining the
crowd of his life, and deriving no small amount of satisfaction therefrom.
He was permitted by Sheriff Cramer to deliver a long rambling speech, in
the course of which he advised everybody to beware of drink and gambling
halls, which he said had led to his ruin. At the conclusion of his speech
the black cap was adjusted, and at 2:20 Sheriff Cramer cut the rope.
Green's body rose slowly into the air and his limbs twitched convulsively
for several minutes. At the end of twenty-five minutes he was pronounced
dead, and his body was taken down and delivered to the undertakers. The
autopsy disclosed the fact that his neck was not broken.
Thus ended the career of as depraved a wretch as ever existed. According
to the story of his life, written by him for a local paper, his thieving
propensities were early developed, as was his disregard for human life. At
the age of fourteen he had shot his father while the latter was chastising
him for a theft, inflicting a severe wound. After that he had served
sentences in innumerable jails and workhouses for various crimes,
principally stealing. He had also served a five-year term in the Missouri
penitentiary for a burglary committed at Lexington, a little town near
which he was born. The trial and execution of Green scared hundreds of
petty crooks away from Denver, and for a long time afterward the city was
almost entirely free from holdups and burglaries.
THE ITALIAN MURDERS.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ITALIAN MURDERS--THE GREAT DENVER SENSATION OF 1875--FOUR DECAYING
BODIES FOUND AT 2334 LAWRENCE STREET--A HORRIBLE SIGHT--SUSPICION
POINTS TO A BAND OF FELLOW-COUNTRYMEN--GEN. COOK TAKES THE CASE IN
HAND.
One of the most horrible crimes that ever cast a silhouette athwart the
darkened pages of criminal history was revealed to the startled citizens
of Denver on the 21st day of October, 1875, consisting in the discovery of
what afterwards became known throughout the state as the Italian murders.
The revelation of the crime, the obscurity of the victims, the length of
time elapsing between the perpetration and the discovery, the mystery
enveloping the deed with an apparently impregnable mantle, and the swift
following detection and apprehension of the perpetrators, all combine to
form the basis for one of the most interesting narratives ever found in
criminal or detective literature.
For several days prior to the finding of the bodies of the victims, those
residing in the vicinity of No. 2334 Lawrence street had detected the
presence of a stench, faint at first, but daily increasing, leading to a
suspicion that the body of some animal had been permitted to remain there
long after life was extinct. The smell from this supposed carcass becoming
more obnoxious, the investigation which eventually revealed the crime,
that all were surprised to find had been committed, was instituted.
Accompanied by an officer, persons residing in the neighborhood began a
search, and their attention was directed to an unoccupied frame building,
where countless flies swarmed around the windows, causing a suspicion that
within the portals of the house reposed the object sought.
The building contained three rooms, the front and larger one
communicating with those in the rear by a hall, while a rude, unfinished
cellar had been excavated below. The door was unlocked, and pushing it
open, the room was gained, when it became apparent that crime and not
carelessness would be revealed.
Evidences of a sanguinary encounter were but too plainly visible. There
was blood on the floor, and a dozen pools were yet bright and crimson. On
the walls were great splotches of blood, and in the hall leading to the
kitchen the tell-tale imprints of bloody hands seemed to point with grim
and ghastly fingers the way to the crime.
The house was destitute of furniture, but in the middle apartment stood a
scissor-grinding machine, over which had been thrown a torn and soiled
blanket, revealing the occupation of some of the late inmates. Following
along the hall, where a crimson trail proved that some heavy and bleeding
object had been dragged, the kitchen was reached. This room was very
dirty, and contained a broken stove, a wash boiler, a box, a dilapidated
valise and some fragments of food. Here a trap-door was found, and when it
was opened a rush of effluvia nearly overpowered those present. A rickety
stair led to the dark hole beneath. A candle was procured, and its fitful
flame exposed a sight that passes all description.
Under the stairs, in a dark, filthy corner, lay four decaying human
bodies, piled two on two, with all four heads touching the wall. Over them
had been thrown some dirty mattresses and blankets, and on these a
miscellaneous assortment of traps piled on as weights. At the feet of the
bodies lay three large harps, two violins, a scissor-grinding machine, a
hatchet, a hammer and several dirks. The edge of the hatchet was besmeared
with blood, while to the handle still clung a tuft of hair, showing that
the tool had been used in the bloody murder. The dirks were blood-covered
from point to hilt. On the harp-strings and on the violins and also on the
stairs, the life-tide of the victims had left its gory stain, while the
mattresses and blankets were saturated with it.
The clothing, down to the bloody shirts, had been stripped from the bodies
of the victims, while those of the others were slit and rent where the
cruel knives had torn their way to the vitals.
[Illustration: THE ITALIAN MURDER.]
But greater horrors and more ghastly sights than these were there. The
four throats had been cut from ear to ear, and the sickening wounds gaped
wide, like the mouth of some huge fish. The abdomens, the arms and the
hands of the bodies had been cut and mangled, while the blackened faces
scarcely any trace of humanity wore.
The coroner was soon on the scene, and while the undertaker was
transferring the bodies to coffins, a crowd of morbid sightseers
assembled. The news of the discovery spread with marvelous rapidity, and
the throng grew larger and larger, until the streets, the neighboring
yards and even the adjacent housetops were packed with people. Men, women
and children fairly trampled each other in their wild desire to view the
bodies, and the officers were powerless to preserve anything approaching
decorum.
The wildest and most exaggerated stories were circulated. It was evident
to all that a quadruple murder had been committed, but no one knew the
authors of the crime or its inspiration; for while it was known that a
party of Italians had occupied the house, no one could be found who had
seen any one enter or emerge since the preceding Sunday. One body was
identified by a colored shoemaker, who had repaired the shoes still on its
feet, but aside from the fact that one of the victims was an old Italian
called "Uncle Joe," and that the others were three boys, two of whom had
passed as his sons, and the other as his nephew, little could be gleaned
from the excited crowd.
The four bodies were taken away in an express wagon and buried in the
Potter's field. Still the object of the crime and by whom committed were
things wrapped in mystery so profound that it seemed as though the final
day alone would reveal the awful secret.
But all are not gifted with that insight into the ways of crime that comes
only from long experience in hunting it out, and is often so marvelous
that it takes the aspect of instinct. Gen. D. J. Cook, chief of the Rocky
Mountain Association, and then sheriff of Arapahoe county, without
waiting for any offer of reward, took the case in hand even before the
coroner's jury had completed its task. With a shrewdness almost without
parallel he had comprehended a theory of the murders, and had his vigilant
detectives on the track of the murderers.
The inquest developed but few facts, and these strengthened the theory the
keen chief had entertained. Persons were found who identified the remains
as those of Guiseppe Peccora, his two sons, Giovanni and Guiseppe, and a
nephew called Luigi, and the fact was also elicited that Filomeno
Gallotti, Michiele Ballotti and one or more unknown confederates had been
their former associates.
Little was known of the class to which the victims belonged, for by
occupation they were itinerant musicians and scissor-grinders, and were
constantly wandering from place to place. No. 2334 Lawrence street had
been a lounging place for some eight or ten of this class.
Putting this and that together, Gen. Cook formed the theory that the old
man and three boys had been murdered by the visitors for their money,
although many entertained the idea that a free fight had culminated in the
death of the weaker ones, and that the visitors had hastily concealed the
bodies and fled. Suspicion pointed to a gang of Italians headed by
Gallotti, who had occupied a shanty on lower Fifteenth street, and Cook
soon ascertained that some nine or ten made that a stopping place, as
shown by the registry lists of the ward in which the building stood. The
boss of the gang was this Filomeno Gallotti, a man possessing some means,
and the owner of a tin shop at that place. Antonio Dertiro, a good
looking, fair haired boy, claimed to be his apprentice at the munificent
salary of $150 a year, and the wily detective learned that on the Thursday
or Friday preceding the discovery of the bodies this youth had
disappeared. The following day Gallotti also took his departure. It was
learned that he claimed that the boy had stolen some money, and that he
professed to be following him--all of which Gen. Cook pronounced "too
thin." The tools, traps and miscellaneous plunder had disappeared from
the shop, and none of the gang had been seen after Saturday night.
While the coroner's jury was pursuing its investigations, Cook and his men
were at work on their own clues. They had already become thoroughly
convinced that Gallotti and his satellites were responsible for the
murder, and determined to waste no time in waiting upon the verdict of the
inquisition. They set to work to discover the extent of the conspiracy,
which to their minds had resulted in the wholesale murder; to determine
upon the participants in the first place, and in the next to obtain clues
by which they might be hunted down. They had disappeared; that was a point
beyond peradventure. But whither had they gone? This was more important to
those who were anxious that justice should be meted out to the wretches
responsible for the crime, the horrible evidences of which confronted the
community. It had become quite evident that Gallotti had been engaged in
the murder, and Gen. Cook was also convinced that he had had accomplices,
but who they were and what marks of identification they bore were among
the facts which were not known, but which detective skill was expected to
bring to light. There was evidently much work to be done. All were crying
for the apprehension of the criminals--the state, the county, the city,
the people. But no one offered a reward. Calling his associates together,
Gen. Cook spoke briefly to the point, without any flourish of rhetoric or
waste of words. "Boys," he said, "you know there has been a great crime
committed here. The murderers are hardly known; of their whereabouts we
are utterly ignorant. They must be brought to justice, and that is our
work. There is no reward offered, but at this time we will not wait to ask
for pay. Hunt the scoundrels down at any cost, and I will see that your
bills are met. Do your duty." After a brief comparison of notes the men
were off, this one going here and that one there, as Gen. Cook might
direct.
It was not long until the discovery was made that Gallotti had been
assisted in his work of murder by several others--perhaps half a dozen. A
clue found here and another there gradually disclosed to the detectives
the work before them. In prosecuting their investigations they learned
something of the character of Gallotti himself. His history had been one
of thrilling and romantic interest--fitting him especially for the role he
had assumed as leader of the murderous band of this city. Back in Italy he
had been a member of a band of outlaws, which for a score of years had
been the terror of travelers and residents of the district in which it
operated. Stolen from his home as a boy by these banditti, Gallotti grew
up with them, soon became one of them, and gradually advanced in his
accomplishments until he became one of the most renowned of the gang. He
was cold-blooded, cunning, self-possessed and daring when necessary. To
him no man's life was sacred. Murder was regarded only as a part of the
work necessary to secure booty. Gallotti never shirked his "duty" when
assassination was a part of it. Ultimately he was elected chief of the
band of which he had long been virtually leader, but soon afterwards was
compelled to flee the country. He came to America and ultimately landed in
Denver, where he became acquainted with Michiele Ballotti and others of
his nationality, including "Old Joe" and his boys. It was further learned
that the children who called Pecorra "father" and "uncle" were not united
to him by any tie of kindred, but that he was merely an old padrone who
had stolen the boys and was compelling them to work and earn money for
him. He worked himself as a scissor grinder and sent the boys out as
musicians, and compelled them at times to beg for money. When they came
home at the end of the day, with scant earnings, he beat and abused them;
so that they worked hard and brought many a coin to the old man. Pecorra
was supposed by Gallotti to be rich, and adding this point to the
knowledge which he possessed of the outlaw's character, Gen. Cook had no
difficulty in fixing upon him as the leader of the murderous gang.
Another point of more immediate interest was soon brought to light. In
looking about, Gen. Cook learned of numerous purchases that had been made
by Italians. Many such articles as agricultural implements and guns had
been purchased by the men whom he had come to suspect as the murderers. He
was thus led to infer that it was the intention of the murderers to go
into farming somewhere. He concluded that they would not risk their lives
by remaining near Denver. If they had been going East they would not have
bought these articles in Denver. He took the precaution to telegraph to
all the important European seaports to have the men apprehended in case
they should land, spending no small amount of money for cablegrams. But he
was really convinced from the first that the men whom he sought had not
gone across the plains, and that they did not intend to cross them.
Putting this and that together he reached the conclusion in an instant
that the men would make an effort to escape by going south to Mexico. He
also learned that three men, who were described as Italians or Mexicans,
had boarded a south-bound train at Littleton a few days previous. He
concluded that these were the men, or some of the men, that he wanted.
Selecting the late W. Frank Smith and R. Y. Force, as two of the most
efficient of his officers, he started them south in pursuit of the
culprits.
CHAPTER VIII.
PURSUIT OF THE ITALIAN MURDERERS BY THE DETECTIVE ASSOCIATION--SMITH
AND FORCE ON THE TRAIL--THEY BECOME DISCOURAGED AT PUEBLO, BUT ARE
URGED ON BY CHIEF COOK--PART OF THE GAME AT LAST FOUND AT TRINIDAD AND
THREE OF THE MURDERERS ARRESTED--THEY CONFESS THE ENTIRE CRIME AND,
RETURNING TO DENVER, NARROWLY ESCAPE LYNCHING--ARREST OF DEODOTTA AND
"OLD JOE" AT SLOAN'S LAKE, NEAR DENVER, UNDER EXCITING CIRCUMSTANCES.
Meantime the coroner's jury continued its work. A verdict was rendered in
accordance with the facts gleaned concerning the murders as related in the
previous chapter, but beyond these nothing was known. The suspected men
had disappeared, and it was shown that the crime had been committed nearly
a week before it was discovered. Public indignation ran high, and it was
feared that, should the murderers be captured, the enraged people would
not brook the necessary delay incident to the legal trial of the fiends.
This feeling culminated in the firing of the house on Lawrence street a
few nights after the discovery of the crime. The firemen confined their
attention to the preservation of the adjoining buildings, and by one
accord public sentiment allowed the building to be entirely consumed.
The details of the pursuit and capture of the criminals, with the trials
and adventures of the detectives, form a most interesting and thrilling
narrative, and give an insight into the ways adopted by those keen men who
render crime doubly dangerous by making the punishment of the offenders
approximately inevitable.
The manner in which the perilous and responsible duty of tracking the
murderers was performed proves the chief's sagacity in selecting Smith and
Force for the work. For twenty-one days and nights they tracked the
villains. Scarcely sleeping, alike regardless of hot suns, cold rains or
chilling snows, through cañons, over plains, wandering through the slums
and by-ways, these men of iron nerve and tireless constitution pursued
their object until they met with the reward due their skill and
perseverance.
Pursuant to the instructions of Chief Cook the detectives started south on
Saturday morning after the discovery of the crime. At Pueblo they
separated, Force remaining there, while Smith proceeded to Cañon City. The
air was full of rumors, many wild and without foundation, while others
possessed the element of plausibility. It was no easy task to arrive at
anything like a correct opinion by giving credence to any rumor, but after
infinite difficulty a trail was discovered at Pueblo leading toward
Trinidad. This Mr. Smith was averse to taking, and so telegraphed Gen.
Cook, but the latter replied: "Go ahead; the money is mine." Smith and
Force at once joined at Pueblo and hastened to Trinidad. Arriving there
they went to a saloon frequented by Italians, and there found some of the
very men for whom they were searching, namely, Michiele Ballotti,
Silvestro Campagne and Leonardo Allesandri, against whom there were strong
suspicions, who were making music for the saloon loafers with all their
might. After looking on for a moment to make sure of their game, the
officers approached the startled musicians with drawn guns and demanded a
surrender, which was sullenly acceded to. Detective Smith at once asked
Ballotti when he came to Trinidad. Ballotti answered quite coolly to the
effect that he had been there about two weeks, but Silvestro trembled
visibly, and seemed to realize that they were about to get into trouble.
Being confident that these were the men they sought, the detectives took
them in charge and placed them in jail.
Up to the present time it will be borne in mind that there had as yet been
no definite clue obtained as to the identity of the murderers. It is true
that strong suspicion had been aroused, but, after all, suspicion is no
proof. It remained for these three men to "give the whole thing dead
away." When they were taken to jail and searched some of the money taken
from old Pecorra's house was found upon the persons of the men, and when
they were stripped the most convincing proofs of their guilt stared the
officers in the face. The undershirts which they wore were still saturated
with blood--blood which they confessed had flown from the veins of their
victims, the padrone and his little boy slaves.
The fact of the crime being once acknowledged, the men were very free to
talk, and they not only confessed their own crime, but revealed the names
of others engaged with them, and poured into the ears of the detectives
the bloody story of the murder which they had committed a few days before
in Denver. The same stories were afterwards repeated in Denver, and will
be told in their proper place. The names of the murderous band, including
their own, as revealed by this delectable trio, were: Filomeno Gallotti,
Henry Fernandez, John Anatta, Frank Valentine, Michiele Ballotti,
Silvestro Campagne, Leonardo Allesandri, Guiseppe Pinachio and Leonardo
Deodotta, all of them being Italians except Fernandez, who was a Mexican.
They also told a story which confirmed Cook's theory that the band
intended to flee to Mexico, and informed the officers where proof could be
obtained of the facts in the case. They stated that not only agricultural
implements had been secured, but guns and ammunition as well. The party
had intended to select as a hiding place some quite, secluded valley,
where they could make their headquarters, and whence they, as a band of
brigands of the old Italian model, could make their forays upon the
traveling and civilized world. They stated further that Gallotti and some
of his men had fled from Denver, but that they had left confederates in
the persons of Deodotta and old Joe Pinachio, living quietly near Sloan's
lake, who, they said, knew of the whereabouts not only of the implements
and munitions to be sent to Gallotti in Mexico, but also of the place at
which was hidden away the bulk of the money taken from old Pecorra's house
after the murder, as well. These facts were, of course, promptly
telegraphed to Gen. Cook, who acted upon them, as shall be detailed in the
proper place.
Within two hours the prisoners were securely ironed, and the next morning
they commenced the journey that would terminate in the city where they had
committed the terrible crimes, and where the news of their capture was,
even then, creating wild excitement.
By 5 o'clock on the afternoon of their arrival a crowd began to gather at
the depot. The afternoon was dark and lowering, and a fitful fall of snow
chilled the air. But the impatient crowds surged and stamped around in a
vain effort to keep warm, determined to suffer rather than to let the
prisoners arrive without their knowledge. Day was fading to chill and
cheerless night when the train drew up at the platform. A wild rush
ensued, but the police kept a passageway open, and the prisoners were soon
landed in an omnibus that had been secured for the purpose, officers
mounted the top and with Gen. Cook and his assistant detectives inside and
an officer on the step, the omnibus started for the jail. Scarcely had the
wheels revolved, ere the crowd by one great common impulse made a rush for
the vehicle with cries of "a rope!" "a rope!" "hang them!" which were
caught up and repeated until the vast array seemed turned into a mighty
mob bent on avenging the death of the old man and the boys, determined on
a sudden and swift execution of the human birds of prey, and it seemed as
though the officers would be powerless to protect the ironed ingrates who
trembled as they beheld the wrath of the populace. Chief Cook was there,
and his cool and steady eye had watched the pulsations of the throng, and
just as the vehicle was fairly surrounded he drew his revolver and ordered
the leaders of the mob back. Detective Smith was ordered to present his
Winchester, which he did, and the officer on the steps also covered those
nearest him. The crowd fell back and the driver lashed his horses into a
run, ploughing through the crowd. Numbers followed, intent on overtaking
the omnibus and capturing the criminals, while others rushed on to see the
results. The tide swept down Blake street in a wild disordered procession.
The driver was instructed to push the horses, and in a few moments the
prisoners were securely locked in the jail, to their great relief, and to
the disappointment of the crowd that had followed, hoping to see them
dangle from the limb of some tree or suspended from a telegraph pole.
Great satisfaction was felt that these wretches had been secured, and the
public sentiment, which always sooner or later arrives at correct
conclusions, could find no praise too flattering for the able
superintendent and his worthy assistants.
After hearing the news from Trinidad, and especially that which told of
the presence of some of those who had been implicated in the murders near
Denver, Gen. Cook was not idle, but he went to work to make investigations
here. He began by arresting an Italian known as "Old Joe," who lived on
the ranch near Sloane's lake, with Deodotta. Joe was placed in jail for a
day or so. He was a half-crazy creature, and it was believed that he could
be made to tell whatever he might know of the facts in the case. He was
consequently informed by Cook that he must either divulge his secrets or
submit to sudden annihilation. He promised to reveal everything, but when
taken by Gen. Cook out to the place where the treasure was supposed to be
buried, he failed to find the spot, either because of ignorance or
craftiness.
Better success was had with Deodotta. He was also placed under arrest, and
after being told that he must die or tell where the money taken from old
Pecorra's house had been buried, he promised to do all in his power to
find it. He was accordingly taken from the jail one morning before sunrise
and driven out to his house and told to find the treasure, no one
accompanying the detective and his prisoner except the driver of the
express wagon. Arriving at the place, Deodotta made a last effort to
conceal the whereabouts of the money, and when his protestations were
doubted he crossed his breast and prayed with fervor. When Cook swore at
him, he crawled on his knees and cried before him like a sniveling cur.
After digging in one or two places for the money and failing to find it,
Cook leveled his gun at the old sinner's head and said to him:
"Now find that money in just one minute or I'll kill you where you stand."
There was no foolishness now. Quick as thought Deodotta jumped to a spot
where lay a bone and where a weed was standing with the top end stuck in
the ground, and with two or three strokes of the pick, brought the
treasure to light. It consisted of a package of money amounting to $350
which had belonged to the murdered man, and which was picked up and
brought back to town by Gen. Cook, and Deodotta once more lodged in jail.
Thus was a very essential part of the work performed with but little
ostentation and no blow in the newspapers.
[Illustration: Finding of the Treasure stolen from old Joe Pecorra by his
murderers, under direction of Gen. Cook.]
CHAPTER IX.
ON GALLOTTI'S TRACK--A LETTER REVEALS HIS FLIGHT TO MEXICO WITH
FERNANDEZ, ANNATTA AND VALENTINE--DETECTIVE SMITH IN SAN LUIS VALLEY
AS AN OFFICER FOR UNCLE SAM AND A SHEEP BUYER--THE MURDERERS RUN DOWN
AT LAST AND CAPTURED AT THE POINT OF A PISTOL--A FRIEND WHO WAS NOT A
FRIEND--A LONG BUT FRUITFUL CHASE AFTER VALENTINE.
It must not be supposed that Gen. Cook had been devoting his entire
attention to either the men who had been captured at Trinidad or those
taken near Denver. He had now learned enough to know that Gallotti had
been the organizer and head executor of the quadruple murder, and him he
wanted more than any other of the gang of cut-throats. He had been seeking
anxiously for some clue that would reveal the whereabouts of this wretch
and lead to his capture. The most assiduous attention and the most arduous
labor seemed at first likely to prove barren of results. At last one
night, however, Gen. Cook was summoned to a dark side of the street by an
individual, who poured into the general's anxious ear the story of the
flight of the chief of the band and three of his accomplices. This man was
a friend of the Spaniard, Fernandez, and to convince the detective that he
spoke the truth he pulled a letter from his pocket, from Fernandez,
bearing the post mark of Fort Garland, in San Luis park. This letter was
turned over to Gen. Cook, and being read revealed the welcome news that
Gallotti and Fernandez and Anatta were then in San Luis park, making their
way to Mexico by going down the Rio Grande river. The letter told further
that they were traveling by slow stages, that because Gallotti had sent
Valentine back to Denver on horseback to carry certain instructions to
Deodotta and to bring the money deposited near Sloan's lake to him.
This was about as good a thing as Cook wanted. He slept but little that
night, but devoted himself with all the intensity of his nature to
maturing plans for the pursuit and capture of the outlaws. He decided to
put the pursuing expedition in charge of Smith, who should be accompanied
by an Italian who had taken the American name of James Lewis, and who, by
the way, afterwards became the notorious Arizona Bill. This man knew
Gallotti and besides spoke English as well as Italian. He was known to be
faithful and was considered "a happy hit."
The two men were off early the next morning, bound for the southward,
Smith carrying a letter from Cook to Maj. Horace Jewett, who was then in
command at Fort Garland, informing the major of the mission of the
detectives and requesting him to furnish them with whatever facilities
might be required for the prosecution of their work. They were told to
obtain army horses and to dress as soldiers, for Americans other than
"blue-coats" were then scarce in San Luis, and likely to create suspicion.
Armed with these and other instructions from their chief, the men departed
upon their mission, going as far as they could in the cars, the Denver and
Rio Grande railroad then being completed only to Walsenburg. Leaving the
railroad they turned their faces westward, towards San Luis park.
After walking a few miles they secured a team of horses from a ranchman,
with which they expected to continue the journey. The horses unfortunately
were affected with the epizootic, then raging, and proved a source of
inconvenience and annoyance. From one place to another through the San
Luis valley the trail was steadily followed. At Fort Garland, Maj. Jewett
received the officers cordially and entered heartily into the plan
suggested by Gen. Cook, giving Smith and Lewis soldiers' uniforms and a
pair of government mules branded "U. S." Assuming the _role_ of government
officers in search of deserters, the pursuers continued their journey to
Culabra, where it was hoped to intercept the criminals. But in this hope
the officers were disappointed, for upon arriving there it was discovered
that the men sought had gone further southward. But a point was gained in
learning that they were on the trail.
It was ascertained that while in Culabra, the fugitives had stopped at the
house of a Frenchman. The Frenchman was ready to render any assistance in
his power, and to this end informed the detective that the men had gone
on foot about fourteen miles down Culabra creek. By a little sharp
practice it was discovered that the Frenchman was endeavoring to aid the
criminals and had himself lent them horses and accompanied them on the
road towards Taos, N. M.
Detective Smith here suddenly conceived a violent passion for the sheep
business. His suit of blue was changed for a brand new one corresponding
with his newly assumed avocation, and a broad-brimmed hat and a glittering
array of jewelry completed the make-up of as perfect a stock king as ever
proudly paced the soil of New Mexico. A gentleman named Thaw, who had
formerly been a policeman in Denver, and who was now living in San Luis,
was called upon, and the detective's wand also transformed him into a
sheep buyer, and he was at once admitted as a partner in the imaginary
firm. The interpreter, Lewis, was also given a new _role_, or rather a
double character. He was to ride along the road and inquire for his
"partners," describing the other Italians whom they were pursuing, and at
various places he would also claim to be connected with the firm of sheep
purchasers as an assistant. At Sierra de Guadaloupe they passed one night,
and Lewis lost no time in spreading the news that the detective and his
partner were men of means, traveling through the country for the purpose
of buying sheep. The entire population turned out to see them, and by
cautious inquiries they learned that the murderers had undoubtedly gone
toward Taos.
Before daylight the officers were on the road again, and by rapid driving
reached Taos during the afternoon. Repairing to the only hotel in the
place, the detective again "talked sheep," and soon gathered around a good
share of the population, nearly all of whom had sheep to exchange for the
ducats the detective was supposed to possess. Here it was learned that
there were only about thirty-five Americans in the county, the balance of
the population consisting of Mexicans and Pueblo Indians, and all the
officers being Mexicans, which was a point against the detectives. They
kept a vigilant outlook for Lewis, and ere long that individual was
observed approaching, mounted on his mule, wearing a most abject mien.
Turning at once to Thaw, Smith exclaimed in a loud voice: "Here comes that
d----d greaser, looking for his partners." The remark attracted
attention, and as Lewis dismounted the crowd went to the door.
[Illustration: Arrest of Gallotti and one of his pals at Taos, N. M., by
Smith and Arizona Bill.]
Lewis commenced inquiries for his "partners," and as he talked Spanish
fluently, he soon discovered that three men answering the description
given were then in the town. Bidding the interpreter to remain at the
hotel, the detectives at once went to a store kept by two Americans named
Miller and Clothier. Here they ascertained that Filomeno Gallotti had
borrowed a gun, and that he had left five $20 gold pieces to sell.
Being satisfied that they had the criminals almost within their grasp, Mr.
Smith cast about for some plan whereby they could entrap them. To that end
he sent for Thaw and Lewis, and Gallotti was then sought out and brought
to the store under the pretext that Clothier desired to sell more gold for
him. Although a wily and cunning brute, Gallotti suspected nothing, and
almost immediately presented himself in front of the store, where he met
Lewis, who, in a surprised and highly delighted manner, grasped Gallotti
by the hand. That grasp was not one easily to be shaken off, however, for
fingers of iron held the criminal's hand as in a vise of steel. A moment
later Smith came up from behind and seized Gallotti's left hand, as if
also to shake hands, and turning he gazed into the muzzle of a cocked
revolver.
Gallotti realized instantly that he had been entrapped, and that
resistance would be worse than useless, and begged piteously for his life.
He was disarmed and handcuffed, and the leader of the band of murderers
was in the clutch of the law.
But how were the others to be secured? Fate made this easy of
accomplishment, for hardly had the handcuffs clicked around the wrists of
the prisoner than another Italian entered the store. He was promptly
seized, but proved to be a resident of the place. He was badly frightened,
however, and seeing this the detective told him he would be allowed his
freedom provided he would bring Fernandez and Anatta to them. To this
demand he gladly acceded, and soon returned with John Anatta, who was at
once overpowered and placed in irons. [The artist has chosen to group the
capture, and is a little at fault, but not seriously so, as he presents
the scene soon after the taking.]
One other of the men for whom the officers were searching was still
unsecured. By judicious inquiry it was learned that this one was Henry
Fernandez, the Mexican, the knowledge of whose connection with the crime
had led Gen. Cook to infer so correctly that the criminals had gone south.
It was ascertained that he had gone that morning in the direction of Red
river. The Mexican officials of the county insisted upon a requisition
being shown before they would consent to see the officers depart with
their men, but their qualms of conscience were eased by the presentation
of a purse of $100, and the captors and captives were allowed to depart.
The detectives at once gave chase to Fernandez, and reached Red river at
night. Here they discovered the house in which Fernandez was sleeping, and
soon had secured him.
Having three of the fugitives for whom they had been in pursuit, the
detectives pushed on rapidly to Fort Garland, and thence to Pueblo. After
an uneventful journey the railroad was reached, and the second trio of
prisoners were soon en route for Denver.
The fact that the capture had been accomplished was kept comparatively
quiet, the previous lesson having been sufficient for the officers. But a
large crowd was present when they landed at the depot. The manacled
murderers were lifted bodily from the cars and placed in an omnibus. A few
policemen rode on the top, Gen. Cook being inside with Smith and the
prisoners, having joined them down the road. Aside from the presence of
the officers there was nothing in the appearance of the party to attract
attention. The crowd followed the vehicle out of curiosity, manifesting no
especial feeling, probably remembering the prompt rebuff they had met on
the previous occasion.
After Gallotti and his crowd were placed in jail they were seated for a
few moments in a row along the wall, while reporters, officers and others
passed around, eager to scan the faces and to discuss the relative
depravity of the interesting trio.
Thus were eight of the monstrous butchers pursued and captured. But one
other was yet at large, and Superintendent Cook considered his task
incomplete while any of the death-dealing demons were free to enjoy the
fruits of their awful crime. Frank Valentine was the only one of the
number now at liberty. He had returned to Denver, but found his
accomplices locked up, and had wisely taken his departure to return to
Gallotti. Valentine had been a companion and associate of the gang at the
tin-shop, but aside from the fact that he bore the title of "The Miner,"
and that he had come on this mission for the chief murderer, but little
was known concerning him.
Superintendent Cook silently commenced a series of close investigations,
and finally concluded that this man was at least an accessory. That brutal
instinct given vent when the crime was committed was still apparent in
those already secured in the jail, and they seemed anxious that Valentine
should be captured, and from hints let drop by them Cook was enabled to
trace the fellow back towards New Mexico.
All of the members of the detective association had been instructed by the
chief to keep a sharp lookout for him, and one day it was learned that he
was in the vicinity of McCorkle's ranch, in Costilla county. Thomas T.
Bartlett was then sheriff in Costilla county and a member of the detective
association, and he was soon on Valentine's trail. One day the officer
found himself near the ranch about the hour of noon. Feeling hungry and
fatigued, he determined to visit the house and obtain refreshments for the
inner man. While seated at the table a rap was heard on the outer door,
and in obedience to the summons "Come in," who should enter but the very
man for whom the officer was in search. The assassin asked for something
to eat, and while he was dispatching his dinner the detective engaged him
in conversation, and carelessly asked him if he had a pistol. He replied
in the affirmative and handed it over for examination. The officer
informed him that it was a fine pistol--a very fine pistol, and that he
wanted it. Suddenly changing his manner, he added that he also wanted the
owner of the weapon.
The startled Italian gazed alternately into the muzzle of the presented
revolver and the cool eye of the officer, and saw that the man was
terribly in earnest. Realizing that escape was impossible, he surrendered,
and while denying that he took any active part in the assassination, he
admitted that he was a spectator to that horrible slaughter. He was
brought to Denver, where Superintendent Cook met him at the depot, and
soon he was behind the bars of the county jail.
CHAPTER X.
THE ITALIAN MURDERERS TELL THE STORY OF THE CRIME--A SERIES OF
BLOOD-CURDLING NARRATIVES, INTERESTING ACCOUNTS FROM THE MOST
PROMINENT OF THE BUTCHERS--GALLOTTI GIVES HIS VERSION--HOW THE MUSIC
PLAYED WHILE THE THROATS WERE CUT--DRINKING THE BLOOD OF THE VICTIMS.
So prompt had been the retribution overtaking the band that the popular
desire for revenge was in a measure appeased, and all seemed to be
confident that the law would effectually dispose of the bloody crew.
Before showing how the people were disappointed in this, and prior to
relating the means by which these villains escaped the gallows, it would
be interesting to visit the jail and, by conversing separately with the
prisoners, ascertain so far as possible the manner by which the four
victims came to their death. With the exception of Gallotti, they were all
willing to talk of the affair.
The jailer leads the way to his cell. A dark-eyed man with the keen, cool,
deadly look which only a murderer by birth and education could possess,
rises to see who comes as the iron door swings open. He is rather a small
man, but has a well-knit, compact frame, and evidently possesses
considerable muscular activity and strength. His eyes are small and
piercing and have a serpentine look. In this look can be found one of the
reasons why he was able to absolutely control the band, to whom he was
more than king or czar. Possessing some education, with an unbending will,
a heart devoid of pity, a conscience knowing no regret and with those
glittering eyes, transfixing the one who had dared to displease him, he
was just what his ambition desired--the chief of a desperate band of
banditti, whose pastimes were the cutting of throats and whose revels were
in scenes of blood. He would not talk at length, but when it was suggested
to him that "It is said that you were the leading spirit in that affair,"
replied: "I am not. The others did the murder, and now are trying to drag
me into it."
[Illustration: Arrest of Ballotti, Campagne and Allessandri at Trinidad,
by Officers Smith and Force. See page 67.]
So Gallotti will not talk. Let us visit Allessandri and get his story.
This boy (for he is scarcely more than a boy) was the first to make any
statement to the officers, and he can think or talk of nothing but the
crime. He looks up as his cell is entered and readily answers all
questions.
His story as he relates it, with great rapidity and constant
gesticulation, is as follows: "The band consisted of Gallotti, Anatta,
Ballotti, Campagne and a miner. I was forced to join them against my will,
but was powerless to resist Gallotti. The killing commenced Friday,
October 15, at half-past one o'clock p. m. I was playing a harp in the
front room. The old man, called Joe in English, the biggest boy and one or
two others were playing cards in the front room. The cards lay on a box
and the players were seated around in a circle. Ballotti, Campagne and
'the miner' were playing, too. Gallotti, the boss tinker, was standing up
and watching the game. Suddenly Gallotti reached under his coat, drew a
knife, seized the old man by the hair, drew his head back and with one
powerful stroke cut his throat from ear to ear. The blood flew upon the
cards and into the faces of the other players. Not yet content, Gallotti
stabbed the old man in several places and, releasing his hold, he let the
lifeless body fall on the floor. At the same time the others seized the
big boy who was sitting at my side playing the harp, but he made a
desperate resistance and tried to fight them off.
"Seeing that the others were not very successful, Gallotti left old Joe's
body and, grabbing the boy, cut his throat, crying to me, 'Play louder!'
In the struggle they all used knives, and Anatta cut his fingers so badly
that when they ceased bleeding he could not close them.
"I kept on playing the harp, for I did not dare stop, and I was so
frightened that I trembled violently. Once I stopped playing, but Gallotti
shook me and, drawing his knife across my throat, told me he would cut my
d--d head off if I did not play on. So I started up again.
"They let the bodies lay where they had fallen, and some one threw
blankets over them. In about half an hour the other two came into the
yard, carrying their harps. Gallotti watched the front door and Ballotti
stood guard at the rear one. The smaller one came in first, carrying his
violin under his arm. Gallotti seized him and, driving a knife to the hilt
just under his right ear, cut the boy's throat. The little boy who played
the harp came up to the door and, catching a glimpse of the blood,
attempted to retreat, but Silvestro seized him and dragged him into the
house. As Silvestro did not succeed in cutting his throat very quickly,
Anatta went to his aid. But the boy escaped them and ran, bleeding and
crying, into the front room, where Gallotti caught him around the neck
with one hand and, with the boy's head under his arm, cut his throat from
ear to ear.
"I was still playing on the harp, but the sight of dead bodies and the
blood running on the floor made me sick. Filomeno made me lick his knife
and ordered me to drink some of the blood. He scraped up a handful of
blood running from the big boy's throat and drank it, the others doing
likewise, as a pledge of fidelity. They then threw the bodies into the
cellar and commanded me to continue playing, as the music deadened the
noise and would divert any suspicion that might be entertained. Some of
the bodies they dragged and some they carried to the trap-door, where they
threw them into the cellar. Filomeno or some one else then went into the
cellar and secured the money. I don't know how much was obtained, but he
gave Ballotti $140, another $40 and handed me $20.
"After everybody had washed their hands and taken off their bloody shirts,
which were thrown into the cellar, we took four revolvers, locked the
doors and went to the tin-shop on Fifteenth street. About 9 o'clock that
night Filomeno, Deodotta, Ballotti, Valentine, Guiseppe and the
light-haired tinker went back to the house. I did not go, but went to
sleep between two tinkers, who, I think, knew all about the murder, for
Filomeno told them to watch me, and also told me that if I said anything
about the murder, or attempted to run away, he would kill me. That night
Ballotti, Campagne and I walked to Littleton, where we slept near the
depot until a freight train arrived, which we boarded and rode on to
Pueblo.
"I came from Central City about three weeks before the murder, and
Filomeno told me he should kill the old man and the boys. I was afraid to
tell any one, fearing that he would kill me, too, and the gang never
allowed me out of their sight, day or night. Filomeno told us he was going
to Mexico, and would write to us."
As the musician who played the harp as an accompaniment while the
throat-cutting was in progress has talked so plainly, let us visit
Ballotti and, if possible, obtain from him an account of the crime.
Entering the cell, a rather good-looking young man, of a compact frame and
with the dark skin of an Italian, comes forward to greet us. He commences
his story as follows:
"When I came here some months ago, Filomeno Gallotti assisted me in many
ways, and placed his house and his purse at my disposal. He finally told
me that he intended to kill the old man and the boys, and I endeavored to
obtain funds sufficient to go to Cheyenne and get away, but in this I was
unsuccessful, and I told Deodotta, together with another man at Sloan's
lake, what plans had been made. Filomeno told us to go to the house on
Lawrence street and pretend to teach the boys music, and we were thus
engaged for three days prior to the murder. After Filomeno cut the old
man's throat, he gave me a knife and told me to help the others. I did not
wish to kill them, but, fearing Filomeno, I drew the back of the knife
across the big boy's throat, but did not hurt him. When the last two came
Filomeno stood behind the door and, as the little one entered, carrying
his harp, he said, holding up a fancy article he had purchased, 'Look
here. I have bought you something nice to-day,' and just then he seized
the poor boy, pulled him down upon the floor and, putting his knee on his
head, said, in Italian: 'Ah, my boy, I've got you now.' With that he
thrust his knife up to the hilt back of the ear and gashed the throat wide
open. When the other entered, Filomeno, the miner and the tall tinker cut
him all to pieces. He held on to his harp and ran around the room with his
throat cut, the blood pouring from the wounds in a torrent, and Filomeno
pursuing and stabbing him. Finally he succumbed and fell with the harp on
top of him. The old man wore a belt filled with gold, and Filomeno divided
it around. In all, I suppose the belt contained about $1,400."
From this point on the story contained only unimportant details.
Says John Anatta, another of the murderers, when talked to: "I can not
sleep, for 'Old Joe's' spirit haunts my dreams, and when he approaches me
I seem to be cutting his throat. But no sooner have I done so than a brand
new one takes its place, and I awake horrified. It was awful, but I could
not help it, and I did not do any of the cutting. I hit one of the boys on
the head, but the knife bent and cut my hand, and that was all I did."
Let us again visit Gallotti, and after we have told him what the others
say, perhaps he will be induced to give some account of the horrible
butchery in which it is claimed he took such a prominent part. A dark
scowl again greets us, but he is in better humor--just in trim to cut
throats were the occasion propitious.
"Now, see here, Gallotti, the others have told us all about this affair,
and you might as well say something, too."
"Well, you see, I commenced the job at the card table, by catching 'Old
Joe' by the hair and sawing my knife across his throat until he was quite
dead. I helped to kill one of the boys, as the others were making a bad
job of it. I then put up my knife and watched Anatta, Ballotti and
Guiseppe cut the other two. I secured $800 in gold and $377 in currency,
but I gave the most of it to the others. I conceived the idea of the
murder some time ago, and when I broached the subject to the others
individually and at different times, they all were eager to engage in the
scheme. My reason for killing the old man was this: Several years ago I
lived in New Orleans and, being successful in business, my countrymen
often deposited their savings with me. The sum thus entrusted to me
increased until I had about six thousand dollars of other people's money.
Thinking it proper to invest this, I loaned it to a fruit dealer, who
promised to pay a fair rate of interest on the amount advanced.
Subsequently, and as I afterwards learned, by 'Old Joe's' advice, the
fruit dealer decamped with the money. I followed him all over the country,
but finally my means became exhausted and I came to Denver, where I
settled down at my trade. One day I was asked to write a letter for the
man on Lawrence street, and when the address was signed, I learned for the
first time that 'Old Joe' was the one who advised the fruit dealer to
abscond with the six thousand dollars. I kept this to myself, but
continued to watch him, and finally was satisfied that he was the
identical 'Joe' who had been in New Orleans. Then I determined to kill
him, and enlisted the others in the plot. They are as guilty as I, and
deserve as severe a punishment."
This being all Gallotti has to say, we are forced to withdraw.
CHAPTER XI.
TRIALS OF THE ITALIANS--THEY ESCAPE THE GALLOWS THROUGH A TECHNICALITY
OF THE LAW--GALLOTTI, BALLOTTI, CAMPAGNE AND VALENTINE RECEIVE LIFE
SENTENCES AND THE OTHERS GET OFF LIGHTLY.
It would seem from the evidence and their own confessions that this band
would surely be hung. But such a fate was not in store for them. On
Saturday, December 4, 1875, the preliminary examination was had before
Justices Whittemore and Sayer. Gallotti and Ballotti pleaded guilty, and,
together John Anatta, Leonardo Allessandri, Guiseppe Campagne, Leonardo
Deodotta, Frank Valentine, Guiseppe Pinachio and Henry Fernandez, they
were bound over to the district court for trial on the 26th day of the
following January. John Anatta and Allessandri, the young harpist, turned
state's evidence before the grand jury and indictments were returned
against the entire band. On the 30th of January the accused were brought
into court and counsel was assigned them.
February 8 they were arraigned, pleaded not guilty, and their cases were
set for trial during the April term. May 20 Gallotti was before the court
and pleaded guilty. Great excitement was occasioned when it became known
that under a section of the statutes he could not be hung, a life sentence
being the utmost penalty in cases when the accused entered a plea of
guilty. The next day Ballotti was arraigned and endeavored to withdraw his
plea of not guilty. The motion, for reasons not clearly apparent, was
overruled and his case was set for trial on the following day. The
evidence in the trial of Ballotti was simply a repetition of the facts
already known to the reader, and a verdict of murder in the first degree
was rendered.
It was decided that under the law Gallotti could be tried in spite of his
plea. When arraigned Gallotti again entered the plea of guilty, and it was
considered proper to carry his case to the supreme court as a test of the
loose law then in force. The same proceedings were had in the case of
Frank Valentine. Campagne also pleaded guilty, and Anatta and Allessandri
entered special pleas of voluntary manslaughter. Deodotta was acquitted on
the charge of being accessory, and the following sentences were meted out
to the bloodiest band that ever went unhung: Gallotti, Valentine, Campagne
and Ballotti were sentenced for life; Anatta and Allessandri received each
ten years while the others went scot-free.
Gallotti, the leader of the cut-throat band, was pardoned out in 1885,
leaving immediately for his native land, Italy, but, according to reports,
never reaching it, but dying on his journey. Ballotti, the best one of the
lot, died in the prison at Cañon, December 20, 1887. Campagne was pardoned
out June 29, 1888, and Valentine, the other life man, was restored to
liberty by Gov. Waite on August 5, 1895.
MUSGROVE AND HIS GANG.
CHAPTER XII.
THE BAD CHARACTERS BROUGHT TO DENVER BY THE UNION PACIFIC RAILROAD
BUILDING--L. H. MUSGROVE AND HIS GANG--ARREST OF MUSGROVE--ED.
FRANKLIN AND SANFORD DUGGAN COME TO HIS RESCUE--HIGHWAY ROBBERY IN
DENVER.
For a few years previous to 1868 Denver was a paradise of quiet and
repose. The mining excitement, which had attracted so many people to this
region a few years before, had subsided to a great extent. The settlers
were becoming accustomed to a residence in this region. The novelty of the
life in the Far West had died out. There were few mining "booms," if any,
and the "hard cases" which invariably follow in the wake of mining
discoveries of importance had become disgusted with the slow life in this
section, and had folded their tents and quietly departed for more inviting
and, to them, more congenial fields. Of course, the good people had no
fault with this state of affairs. They went on following their customary
avocations, delving steadily for the precious metals, tilling the soil and
building up town and country. In a word, Denver seemed, within a
remarkably short period, to have settled down into the perfect repose, so
far as crime was concerned, of the New England village.
But with the approach of railroads there came a change--a radical and
important change. The building of a new railroad in any section always
introduces a large element of irresponsible and vicious people. In the
West the percentage of this element is larger than in the East. But as the
Union Pacific was the pioneer railroad line built across the plains, and
as the country was new and inviting to men of adventurous spirit, its
construction was probably accompanied by a greater number of arrivals than
that of any other line built since in this region. There were gamblers of
all degrees, sneak thieves, burglars, highwaymen, horse thieves,
murderers, fugitives from justice and amateurs in crime. In many places
along the line of the road it was "quite the thing" to be a bad man, and
honesty and civility were at a serious discount. Yet in places the better
element would ultimately gain the ascendancy. In many cases the contest
was close and often there was doubt as to whether the good or the bad
would triumph. As a rule, however, respectability asserted itself,
although frequently not until much blood had been shed and the most heroic
measures resorted to to rid the various communities affected of these
human pests. There were vigilance committees at Cheyenne, Laramie City and
other places along the line of the Union Pacific, which, after months of
endurance of the most terrible outrages, took the law into their own
hands. The results were numerous warnings to offenders to leave these
places, and many "neck-tie parties" as well, at which no "duly elected"
judge sat for days in weighing the evidence, but where justice was seldom,
as in other courts, blind. The action of these vigilance committees was so
energetic and efficient that many of those of the worst classes were
compelled to get away from the railroad camps, and large numbers of them
poured into the Colorado towns.
Of such were Sanford S. C. Duggan and Edward Franklin, whose tragic fate,
as well as that of L. H. Musgrove, it is the purpose of this and
succeeding chapters to treat.
Musgrove was one of the marked villains of the pioneer days of Colorado,
and as cool a character as it was ever the fortune of a detective or
criminal officer to fall in with. He was a man of large stature, of
shapely physique, piercing eye and steady nerve, who might have stood as
the original for the heavy villain of the best story of a master in
romance literature. He was a man of daring, inured to danger, calm at the
most critical times--a commander whose orders must be obeyed, who planned
with wisdom and who executed with precision and dispatch. He was the
leader of an organized band of horse thieves, highwaymen and murderers,
who infested the western plains, with Denver as general headquarters,
during the years 1867-'68. They made the railroad towns a convenience in
disposing of their booty, but did not spend time in loafing about these
places when there was other and more profitable business to attend to in
other places. Musgrove was a southern man by birth, being a native of
Como Depot, Miss. He had gone to California during the days of the gold
excitement on the coast, and had located in Napa valley. His sympathies
were with the South in the rebellion, and he quarreled with a Napa man
about the merits of the conflict, which quarrel resulted in his coolly
shooting the other party down. He was compelled to leave the place, and
afterwards stopped in Nevada, where he killed two men before being driven
from that then territory. Leaving Nevada, he came to Cheyenne, and from
Cheyenne to Denver. He was at first, after crossing the mountains, engaged
as an Indian trader about old Fort Hallack, until a half-breed Indian had
the temerity, half in sport, one day to call him a liar, when Musgrove
calmly pulled his revolver from his pocket, and, taking deliberate aim,
planted a bullet square in the middle of the Indian's forehead.
This transaction served to put an end to Musgrove's Indian trading, for he
was compelled to leave the Indian region on very short notice. After this
little affair he organized a band of horse thieves, which operated
throughout the entire plains country, and which was one of the most
formidable bands of desperadoes known to frontier history. Musgrove was a
perfect organizer. He had his operators in Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico,
Texas, Nebraska, Kansas and others of the western states and territories,
and carried on a regular business of stealing and selling stock. They
would drive off entire droves of horses from one section and sell them in
another five hundred miles away, and would steal another drove in the
neighborhood of the late sale and drive it for sale back to the place at
which they had made the previous raid.
Musgrove's band was broken up by degrees. As early as the spring of 1868
Gen. Cook, accompanied by Col. Egbert Johnson and one or two others,
tracked four of them down after a two days' march, and captured them at
the point of Winchester rifles in a cabin near the city. Col. Johnson
proved of invaluable service in this work in tracking the scamps, as he
had had much experience in the mountains. In doing this work he had to
even wade through a lake of water. Later he went to Georgetown after
another of them, and capturing him there brought him to Denver alone.
They were compelled to stay in a hotel at Idaho Springs all night, and
both slept in the same room, Johnson setting his gun by the side of his
bed and telling the desperado that if he made a move during the entire
night he would blow his brains out. The fellow was as quiet as a mouse,
and was afraid to get up when morning came, so thoroughly was he convinced
that Johnson would put his threat into execution.
Musgrove was himself hunted down in Wyoming, and captured and brought to
Denver. He was saucy to the last. Just a few days before his capture he
took shelter in an invulnerable place on the Poudre, and sent a flag of
truce to the pursuing officer, telling him that he could come in and pick
out any stock that he could recognize; that he could have that and no
more. Mr. Haskell, the then United States marshal, was in command of the
pursuing party. He accepted the conditions laid down, as there was no
alternative, and in doing so found the outlaw so barricaded, and his drove
of stolen horses and mules so securely arranged, that he made no effort to
dislodge him.
The arrest was finally affected by a bit of detective strategy, and the
people throughout the entire western country rejoiced when it was
announced.
Among Musgrove's outlaws there was none more daring and heartless than Ed.
Franklin, who had been with his chief in many close places and who really
seemed to cherish a great fondness for Musgrove. They had in their days of
intimacy on the plains sworn eternal fidelity to each other and had taken
a vow, with others of the party, to come at all times to the assistance of
each other in times of danger. Hence, when Musgrove, the chief of the
gang, found himself in the clutches of the law in Denver, he contrived to
notify his followers and to ask their assistance. It was a fact well known
at the time to Gen. Cook that no less than twenty of these scoundrels
responded to the call, which had been sent over the country. He was
confident as to their character and their mission. He knew that they had
come to Denver intending to effect Musgrove's escape. He was confident
that such was their purpose, but he could, of course, make no arrests, as
he would have been without proofs. He could only remain perfectly quiet
and wait for the desperadoes to signalize their presence in some way, as
he well knew they soon would. He was not compelled to wait long to have
his opinion of the men verified and to find occasion for making arrests.
He was at that time not only chief of the Rocky Mountain Detective
Association, but also city marshal of Denver, and as such was the chief of
the police of the city. It may not be out of place to remark that while
Cook was marshal, and by virtue of this position chief of police, Mr.
Frank Smith, who has already been mentioned frequently in this book, was
one of his subordinate officers. Smith was one of Cook's most trusted men.
The two learned to appreciate the striking qualities of manhood and
bravery thus discovered in each other in those trying days, and became so
thoroughly attached to each other that they never separated as long as
Smith lived, which was until 1881.
Ed. Franklin, to whom reference has been made as one of Musgrove's most
trusted lieutenants, responded with alacrity to the call to come to the
rescue of his chief; and without intending to forestall the story so far
as to mar it, it may be stated that the expedition proved fatally
disastrous to him. Franklin was accompanied to Denver by Sanford Duggan.
They were both bullies and desperadoes--not only bold brigandish boys, but
that and villains of a lower order, men who did not hesitate to stoop to
little meannesses when to do so suited their purposes. They came to Denver
with records, and they had been in this city but a very short while before
they began to look about for an opportunity to add to their "laurels."
It does not appear that Duggan had ever been a member of Musgrove's band,
but he had led a career that would have entitled him to hold a place of
distinction in that scoundrel's organization. Coming to Colorado in 1861,
from Fayette county, Pa., when he was only sixteen years of age, he had
lived for seven years in the company of low characters. At the age of
eighteen he picked up a quarrel with a man named Curtis, in Black Hawk,
and shot him down in a cold-blooded and merciless manner. For this offense
he had been imprisoned for a short while, and then allowed to escape.
Leaving Black Hawk after this experience, he came to Denver, where he
became the associate of a prostitute, one Kitty Wells, who sold herself to
obtain money for him to live on. He lived with her but a short while,
when they quarreled one night and he struck her across the head with a
pistol, well nigh killing her. He was then arrested by Gen. Cook while
threatening to kill him. He was jailed, but escaped justice in some way.
We next find him in the Black Hills, near Laramie City, in company with a
man named Al. Howard. Soon there is news of another murder, and Duggan is
arrested on suspicion and taken to Yankton, Dakota, for trial, but the
proof is insufficient to establish his guilt and he is allowed to go to
prey upon the community. He returns to the line of the Union Pacific
extension and to Laramie City, where he for a while acts as city marshal.
Discovering the true character of the man, the good citizens compel him to
resign--not only force him to resign, but give him a set number of hours
in which to get out of town. He takes the hint, and decides upon coming to
Denver.
A few days out from Cheyenne Duggan falls in with Franklin, who has just
passed through an experience which is worth relating, as it goes to show
the character of the man with whom we are soon to deal. He had stolen a
bunch of mules from Fort Saunders, and had succeeded in carrying them
several miles to a place on the plains where the soldiers who were
pursuing came up with him. There were seventeen of them in the pursuing
party. It was no longer sensible for him to continue his flight, as he
would, at best, be completely overtaken in a few miles. Most men, even
desperadoes, would have surrendered without parley to such odds in
numbers, but Franklin's motto was: "Die, but never surrender." He
determined to fight. Dismounting from the animal which he rode, he hastily
scraped a pile of sand up and threw himself behind it. The soldiers came
up and Franklin opened fire. They returned the salute, and for over an
hour the entire seventeen poured their leaden balls in the direction of
the horse thief. He retaliated as fast as he could, and during the entire
hour held the whole party at bay. At last, however, he was struck in the
breast with a ball and was compelled from weakness to cease shooting. He
was taken at last, nearer dead than alive. Being removed to Fort Saunders,
he recovered rapidly, and had no sooner regained his strength than he
made his escape. Once out of prison he soon hears of Musgrove's
predicament and starts to his chief's rescue, where he meets Duggan, and
they journey on together. Of course, they prove congenial spirits.
They do not ride boldly into Denver, but decide to stop near the city on
Clear creek, until night shall come on with its friendly cloak, for
Duggan, it must be remembered, is known to Chief Cook and his police
force.
The night, however, is not far advanced when they make their appearance
upon the streets. That the original intention of the men in coming to
Denver was to liberate Musgrove could not be doubted, but they did not
propose to waste time, and hence determined to earn a few dollars by the
simple "holdup" process in case opportunity should offer. Hence they
sauntered out Blake street in quest of game. The first man they met was
Mr. James Torrence, who was compelled to stand and deliver. They procured
$22 from him and allowed him to pass on, soon afterwards meeting Mr. Alex.
DeLap, who is now a well known and wealthy citizen of the state, who was
halted, and who would have been robbed had he not taken the precaution
before leaving home to divest himself of his valuables.
The thieves soon find themselves on Lawrence street, and discover Hon.
Orson Brooks, then a justice of the peace and police magistrate for
Denver, wending his way homeward. They followed him to a deserted place on
the street, about the site of the Markham house (the old Grand Central
hotel), where he was accosted by them with a polite request to hold up his
hands. Possessing no means of defense and finding a pair of ugly revolvers
staring him in the face, the judge was compelled to stand and allow
himself to be robbed of $135. Judge Brooks had sat in the trial of Duggan
for the assault upon the woman Kittie Wells and recognized him while the
search was in process. He gave some intimation of this fact, and the
knowledge came near costing him his life. In response to a sally from him
came the cheerful proposition from Duggan to Franklin: "Let's plant the
d--d old snoozer--what d'ye say?" Franklin was quite willing, and the
chances are that, had Judge Brooks not been able to laugh off the matter
as he did, his body would have been made the sheath of a keen-pointed and
silent dagger. But he succeeded in convincing the men that he had been
mistaken when he supposed he recognized one of them, and after treating
him to a maximum dose of profanity, they allowed him to depart.
CHAPTER XIII.
FEELING AROUSED BY THE ROBBERY OF JUDGE BROOKS--PURSUIT OF THE
HIGHWAYMEN, DUGGAN AND FRANKLIN--THE DETECTIVES OBTAIN A CLUE--THE
OUTLAWS OVERTAKEN IN GOLDEN--DUGGAN SHOWS FIGHT AND GETS HIS FRIEND,
MILES HILL, KILLED--TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER WITH, AND TRAGIC DEATH OF, ED.
FRANKLIN.
The robbery of Judge Brooks was the event which sealed the fate of both
these desperate characters, and probably indirectly also that of Musgrove.
The event occurred on the night of Friday, November 20, 1868. Judge Brooks
was a prominent and much-esteemed citizen. The whole town was indignant.
There were demands on every hand to have the highwaymen hunted down.
Denver had aroused from stupor to an active appreciation of the state of
affairs. An outrage had been committed, and justice must be done. The
guilty parties must be found and punished. To whom should this work be
entrusted? The public of Denver had already learned to appreciate "Dave"
Cook. He was now town marshal, and had already organized his detective
association. The case was put in his hands. He had one clue. Judge Brooks
remembered that he had on his person before he was robbed a $20 bill,
which had been torn and which he had mended with a piece of official paper
about his office. Mr. Cook naturally concluded that there were not apt to
be two bills so torn and so mended. Hence he went to work to find the man
who should offer to spend this piece of money. He notified not only the
officers of Denver, but those of surrounding towns as well.
The robberies had been committed on Friday. On Sunday a messenger arrived
from Sheriff John Keith, of Jefferson county, saying that the men that
were wanted in Denver were to be found in Golden. It was stated that they
had gone to that place on Saturday; that they had been drinking and
swaggering about the streets, loaded down with revolvers and defying all
the officers of Christendom. It was supposed that they were desperadoes,
but they were not identified until Sunday morning, when the $20 bill was
tendered to some one by Duggan. This fact had no sooner become known to
Sheriff Keith than he dispatched a notification to Marshal Cook. The
messenger arrived late in the afternoon, so that it was dusk before the
marshal and his posse were off for Golden, eighteen miles distant. There
was no Colorado Central railroad between Denver and Golden in those days
to pick people up in one place and set them down in another within half an
hour, as there now is. But there was a splendid dirt road, and over this
the horses flew, their hoofs beating melodiously on the frozen soil, as
Cook and his men marched off towards the foot-hill metropolis in the
pursuit of their business. The pursuing party was composed of the
following named persons: D. J. Cook, W. Frank Smith, D. W. Mays, Eugene
Goff, H. B. Haskell and Andy Allen. They were all mounted well and were
armed very thoroughly.
Golden was reached about 9 o'clock in the evening of Sunday, November 23.
The party stopped in the outskirts of the city for a few minutes, until
Keith could be communicated with. Being found, he informed the Denver
officers where their men were located. Franklin, he said, had been
drinking heavily during the day and had retired to bed early at the
Overland house. Duggan was at that moment at a saloon kept by Dan Hill. It
was resolved to take Duggan first, and the officers, reinforced by Keith,
started in the direction of the saloon indicated. While on their way to
this point they met two men, one of whom said to the other as they passed:
"What do these s--s of b--s of officers want? That's Dave Cook, from
Denver. I left one of my pistols at your saloon." This remark was
overheard by Cook and Keith, and the latter whispered to the Denver
marshal the fact that the speaker, of whom Cook had not had a fair view,
was Duggan. The other man, he also told Cook, was Miles Hill, brother of
the proprietor of the saloon. Immediately the two men were seen to turn
and cross a vacant lot of ground to the rear of Hill's saloon. The
officers stopped for a minute to arrange plans; Cook directing Smith, with
Keith and others of the squad, to proceed to the front of the saloon,
while he, with Goff, would go to the rear. "In case there should be
shooting, boys, do not hit Miles Hill," said Sheriff Keith, and taking up
the sentence, Cook gave an order to his men to be very careful not to hurt
any citizen of Golden.
The officers closed in upon the place with the greatest celerity. Smith
and his force found all dark in front, but Cook and Goff discovered a
small and glaring light near the door of the saloon as they came around
the corner. It was evidently from the burning end of a cigar in a man's
mouth. Soon the door of the saloon opened, shedding a light upon the man
with the cigar in his mouth and revealing in him the fugitive Duggan. A
man came out at the door and proved to be Hill. The friends of Hill assert
that he only brought Duggan's pistol to him, but the officers say, be that
as it may, he seemed to present the pistol at them, intentionally or
accidentally, at which time Duggan fired on Cook and Goff, the ball flying
by them and nipping a bit out of the blue soldier overcoat which Cook
wore. Notwithstand the officers carried cocked revolvers in their hands
and were fearful that they would have trouble, they were considerably
surprised. It was a moment before they collected themselves, and before
they were entirely at themselves another ball came whizzing by them in
dangerous proximity to their vitals. They were not more than ten feet from
the men who held pistols in their hands. There was no time to hesitate or
parley. A moment's delay might mean death to both of them. With that calm
and commanding way, that cool and deliberate manner which has ever
characterized Dave Cook in time of danger and placed him above other men,
he raised his pistol with his left hand--he always holds his pistol in his
left hand when he shoots--and taking aim, fired, telling Goff also to
fire. One man fell to the ground, and the other started away on a full
run, firing a parting salute as he left. The flash of the pistol revealed
the fact that Duggan was the man who was making an effort to escape, and
he was pursued by some of the members of the party. However, the man
jumped a fence, and by so doing found a hiding place in a dense
undergrowth, so that extensive pursuit of him that evening could not be
otherwise than unavailing.
When the officers returned they found that the man who had been shot was
Miles Hill. The ball had entered his left side and ranged downward
through the abdomen and lodged in the opposite side of the man's body. It
was evident that he could not live. He was found lying in the street with
a cocked revolver near him. He demanded plaintively to know why he had
been shot, and when told the circumstances of the case, apparently
recognized the justice of his fate.
[Illustration: Fatal Fight at Golden between Officers Cook and Goff on one
side, and Duggan and Miles Hill on the other.]
Hill seems to have been a thoroughly good fellow, and his kindness of
disposition probably led him to the point of helping Duggan out of a bad
scrape. What representation he had made to Hill was not revealed by him,
and will now, of course, never be known. But that Hill was influenced to
aid the disreputable man into whose company he had been so unfortunate as
to fall can hardly be doubted. He died about twelve hours after the
shooting, and was sincerely mourned by the citizens of Golden, who
permitted their friendly feeling for and acquaintance with the social
qualities of the man, for the time, to influence their judgment of the
killing, and, what a few days afterwards was recognized as a necessary
precaution by the officers in the protection of their own lives and in the
discharge of their duty in attempting to arrest Duggan, was at first
criticised as "haste and negligence." Cook and Goff either had to kill or
be killed. They preferred the former alternative, repulsive as it was to
them.
But there was then little time to linger over the man whose life blood was
oozing gradually out as a consequence of his attempt to defend a criminal
from arrest. There was other work than indulging in vain regrets to be
accomplished. Duggan had escaped, but Franklin was still in town, and his
whereabouts were known. He must be captured at all hazards. To allow him
to escape was not a part of the programme of the officers. They had been
notified by Sheriff Keith that Franklin had taken a room at the Overland
house, then standing where it now does, and thitherward they wended their
way, fully armed, and equipped with a strong pair of handcuffs with which
they proposed to secure Franklin, and thus render his return to Denver
quite beyond question when once he should be in their power.
Mr. Cook's associates in making this arrest were Frank Smith and Mr.
Keith, they volunteering from the entire company to go with him. The hotel
proprietor did not hesitate to inform the officers where Franklin was to
be found, and they were soon in his room after starting in the search.
They did not seek admission by knocking at the door, which was found
unlocked. Although soaked with liquor when he retired, Franklin had left
everything in perfect order for his defense in case he should be set upon
suddenly, showing himself to be a criminal who was used to being hunted,
and who never forgot his caution even when apparently "too far gone to
know anything." His empty pistol scabbard hung on the bed-post, while
underneath his pillow lay a large revolver, loaded, cocked and ready for
use at a moment's warning. The officers stole in with quiet tread, Cook
leading the van, with his fingers on his lips, and the others following as
noiselessly as if treading upon velvet, although the floor was bare. Mr.
Keith carried a candle, and as he came up to the bed with it, so that the
light fell upon Franklin's eyes, he turned over with a groan. He lay
stretched at full length--a man of brawny muscle and splendidly developed
physique. His breast being partially bared, revealed the gunshot wound
which was the memento he carried of his late exploit in standing off
seventeen of Uncle Sam's soldiers near Fort Saunders, and which had yet
scarcely thoroughly healed. As he turned in the bed his eyes opened. At
that moment Mr. Cook laid a heavy hand upon the arm of the man, saying:
"Franklin, we want you."
The fellow was awake in a moment.
"The hell you do!" he exclaimed, showing that he took in the situation at
a glance.
"Yes, come on quietly."
"Quietly, be d--d! Where's my gun? No d--d officer from Denver can arrest
me. I'm not that sort of stuff. You can make up your mind to that."
By this time he was fully aroused. He was standing on his knees, his eyes
flashing fire, and striking sledge-hammer blows at any of the officers who
attempted to lay hands upon him. He would listen to no entreaty, but
answered all appeals with derision. At last Mr. Cook produced the
handcuffs, and made a move towards Franklin with them.
"Oh, it's irons you have, is it?" he exclaimed, as he lunged at the
party. "If that's what you're up to, I have some myself."
[Illustration: Killing of Ed. Franklin at Golden by Officers Cook and
Smith, while resisting arrest.]
And with this speech he turned to his pillow in the act of pulling his
revolver from its hiding-place.
At that moment one of Cook's assistants, considering that Franklin was
preparing to shoot, struck him on the head and knocked him to the other
side of the bed. He was up in a minute and more furious than ever. He had
well-nigh torn his underclothes from his body, and the blood was running
from the fresh wound in his head. He was furious with rage, and snorted
and roared and tore about like a wild animal brought to bay, exclaiming,
"Come on, all of you!" as he rose to his feet. "I suppose you can kill me,
but you can not arrest me. I will not go with you. If you want to shoot,
put it there--there!" And he slapped his hand violently two or three times
upon his heart. The scene was extremely tragic.
Up to this time no one had intended to shoot, and Franklin was told so.
"Damn you, if you don't shoot, I will," he exclaimed again. "I will fight
your whole gang, if you will give me a fair show. I won't be arrested, I
won't go; I'll die first--but I'll die hard. One or two of you will go
with me if I go. Ed. Franklin does not sell out for a song." At this he
made a lunge for a cocked revolver which Cook had laid on a table near by.
But the keen-eyed officers were too quick for him. They had detected the
purpose of the move and were ready. They did not propose to stand up to
allow another professional murderer and desperado to shoot at them. They
were not betting blood on even terms with outlaws. Cook caught his pistol
with his left hand, and even while Franklin was fighting his way to it
like a mad man, sent a ball whizzing through his very heart. Smith's
firing followed so soon as to cause what seemed little different from one
report. With hardly a groan Franklin tumbled over on the blood-stained
bed, a dead and harmless man. He had sowed the wild oats of a reckless and
useless life, and he had reaped the full harvest.
So ended the last of the tragedies of Golden's night of horrors, November
22, 1868.
Of course the entire town had been aroused by this time. It was getting
well along in the night, yet no one seemed to have retired. On the
contrary, everybody appeared to be upon the streets. Hardly any one
understood the cause of the trouble or the crimes that had been committed.
There were reports that a dozen men had been killed, and that a mob had
taken possession of the town. The people flew here and there like mad. It
was, indeed, a wild Sabbath night for Golden--ordinarily then, as now, a
very quiet and orderly town.
Coroner's investigations of both killings, those of Miles Hill and Ed.
Franklin, were ordered, and inquests were held. It was found that a ball
had struck Hill in the left arm, entering his left side and passing
through his abdomen, while two bullets had entered Franklin's breast,
hardly an inch apart, and both passing through the heart. In the case of
Hill, local prejudice was allowed to control the deliberations of the
coroner's jury, the members of which were not in possession of all the
facts in the case, and in the verdict the officers--who, the reader will
bear in mind, were only returning the fire of Duggan--were slightly
censured for "carelessness in the discharge of their duty." The verdict
was signed by George B. Allen, W. M. B. Sarell, J. M. Johnson, Jr., Arthur
C. Harris, P. B. Cheney and J. Pipe, either one of whom would doubtless,
under the same circumstances, have acted just as the officers did--if they
had not depended upon their heels instead of their pistols for protection.
The verdict in the case of Franklin stood as follows:
Territory of Colorado, County of Jefferson, ss:
An inquest, holden in Golden City, Jefferson county, Colorado
territory, on the 22d day of November, A. D. 1868, before J. B. Cass,
a justice of the peace, upon the dead body of Ed. Franklin, alias
Charles Myers, lying at the Overland house, in Golden City, Colorado
territory, dead, by the jurors whose names are hereto subscribed. The
said jurors, upon their oaths, do say that the said Ed. Franklin,
alias Charles Myers, came to his death by the shots of pistols in the
hands of D. J. Cook and Wm. F. Smith, officers, who were trying to
arrest him; and that the deceased was shot because he refused to be
arrested, and the officers shot him in the discharge of their duty, on
the evening of the 22d of November, 1868.
D. C. CRAWFORD.
H. M. HOWELL.
JAMES GOTT.
JOSEPH CASTO.
H. R. KING.
WM. MARTIN.
Thus ended this series of tragedies, so far as Golden was involved. The
officers, before returning to Denver, scoured the town of Golden and the
surrounding country in search of Duggan, but failed to find him. Indeed,
they soon became convinced that he had lost no time in leaving the place,
and as there were then few residences either in the mountains or on the
plains, there was little hope of overtaking him if pursuit should be
decided upon. Consequently Gen. Cook decided to return to Denver with his
men, and to send out information in all directions to his assistants of
the detective association concerning the escape of the desperado, paying
$50 to the landlord of the Overland house before leaving for damages done
to the bed in which Franklin lay. The man who shared Franklin's bed was
found to be a deserter from the army and was turned over to the military
authorities.
CHAPTER XIV.
LYNCHING OF MUSGROVE BY THE DENVER POPULACE--AN ILLEGAL HANGING IN
BROAD DAYLIGHT BY MEN ENTIRELY UNDISGUISED--THE DESPERADO MEETS THEM
BRAVELY, BUT IS OVERCOME AT LAST AND DIES GAME--HE WRITES A PAIR OF
PARTING LETTERS, AND SMOKES A CIGARETTE WHILE THE HANGMAN'S ROPE IS
BEING ADJUSTED.
The night was well advanced when the officers, who had gone to Golden,
returned to Denver. Indeed, the morning was coming on, so that they were
late in reaching their homes. Being well worn with the night's excitement
and fatigue, they slept late on Monday morning. When they came out they
found Denver in a state of general excitement. The story of the resistance
which the officers had met with from the desperadoes in attempting to make
the arrests in Golden had been generally circulated. The people were just
then beginning to appreciate for the first time the real character of the
outlaws who had so recently been in their midst. They had never before
dreamed that these highwaymen would be guilty of outright murder. Their
eyes were opened for the first time. Evidence had accumulated of
Franklin's having been a partner of Musgrove. Even after the bold
robberies of the preceding Friday night, Franklin had had the assurance to
go to the jail where Musgrove was confined and ask for a conference with
that individual. After this interview Musgrove made general announcement
of the fact that his escape was planned for an early day, on such a
perfect scale that it would not be within the power of the authorities to
prevent it. It was also generally understood that there were many other
desperadoes in the city, who, it was believed, had come to Denver for the
purpose of assisting Musgrove to throw off his prison shackles. At any
rate, the town was known to be full of bad characters, and the number was
increasing every day. It was generally agreed that something must be done
to teach these ruffians that Denver was no place for them. The laws were
imperfect; it was difficult to convict witnesses, and the prisons were
mere pens, out of which criminals could escape with small effort. There
was but little for them to fear from the due process of law. Some more
speedy remedy for the evil existing was needed. The community was sick and
must be cured. A limb had been fractured, and amputation was necessary.
Heroic remedies were demanded.
So the people were beginning to talk about noon of Monday, November 23.
Some one suggested that the proper and salutary thing to do would be to
hang Musgrove. The idea was wildfire in a dry prairie. It passed from one
to another, and all the good people declared that Musgrove should be
hanged by the people in the interest of the people--without technical
warrant of law, but for the same purpose as that for which legal
executions are intended, namely, to punish crime and to furnish a warning
to evil-doers wherever found. On general principles Musgrove deserved
hanging. The West is a region which believes in giving every man his
deserts. So Musgrove must hang. This was the verdict of the town.
Up to 3 o'clock there had been no organized meeting, notwithstanding the
talk of lynching had been general, and almost everybody had come to
understand that a tragedy of this kind might be expected at any moment. By
3 the people began to gather on Larimer street. A few minutes later found
them marching by the score, as if by common consent, towards the county
jail, in which Musgrove was confined. There were hundreds in the
procession when the prison was reached. There was no general expression to
denote the intention of the mob, but all understood its purpose. There
were no masks worn or disguises adopted. It was broad daylight. The best
men in the town were in that procession--lawyers, doctors, and probably
ministers, business and professional men. No officer dared stand in the
way of that gathering. It was the people about to do the people's will.
Arrived in front of the jail a halt was called. Some one mounted an
elevation. There was no disorder. "The question before you," rang out the
voice of the speaker, "is, shall Musgrove be taken out of jail?"
There was a unanimous "Yes!"
"The next question is, shall he be hanged when taken out?"
The same unbroken "Yes" was the response.
There were none to object.
The jail was promptly entered. No obstacles were thrown in the way by the
officials. Musgrove had himself been an auditor of the proceedings which
had just been conducted on the outside of his prison house. But he had not
been dumbfounded by the revelations made to him of his approaching fate.
He met the mob with a bold face. "Come on!" he exclaimed, defiantly, "I am
ready for you."
He was found to be armed with a heavy pine knot with which some one had
provided him. This he hurled defiantly in the air. None cared to approach
him while he held this formidable weapon. Hence the stratagem of firing
two or three shots over his head was resorted to. This policy brought the
desperado to terms. Musgrove agreed to surrender peaceably on condition
that he be not shot down. He was consequently taken out of jail.
Once on the street the procession made towards the Larimer street bridge
across Cherry creek. Musgrove was fairly pushed forward by the pressure
from the crowd which followed behind. He walked onward in a sullen and
uncommunicative mood, glancing to one side and then the other as if
looking for assistance. But none came. When he reached the bridge he
apparently lost all hope. He never once asked for mercy or made a single
plea for his life.
[Illustration: Lynching of Musgrove.]
"If you are bent upon murdering me," he said at last, "you will at least
be men enough to permit me to write to my friends and tell them the
shameful story of your conduct towards me." No one objected, and when the
middle of the bridge was reached a halt was called and Musgrove was
furnished with paper and pencil. Bending over the railing of the bridge he
scratched off two brief notes, one to a brother and the other to his wife,
the first being directed to Como Depot, Miss., and the second to Cheyenne.
The poor criminal grasped the pencil with firmness and apparently wrote
without a tremor, notwithstanding he was closely surrounded by armed men
who were soon to be his executioners. He was an illiterate man, and
wrote and spelled badly. Fortunately Gen. Cook preserved verbatim copies
of the letters, which were as follows:
Denver November 23d, 1868
My Dear Brother
I am to be hung to-day on false charges by a mob my children is in
Napa Valley Cal--will you go and get them & take caree of them for me
godd Knows that I am innocent pray for me but I was here when the mob
took me. Brother good by for Ever take care of my pore little children
I remain your unfortunate Brother
good by
L. H. MUSGROVE.
Denver C. T.
My Dear Wife--Before this reaches you I will be no more Mary I am as
you know innocent of the charges made against me I do not know what
they are agoing to hang me for unless it is because I am acquainted
with Ed Franklin--godd will protect you I hope Good by for ever as
ever yours sell what I have and keep it.
L. H. MUSGROVE.
While he was still writing, some of the men had tied Musgrove's legs
together, and a wagon was procured, which he was told to mount. Placing
his hands upon the seat in front, he sprang into the vehicle as nimbly as
a cat, and the driver, who was George Hopkins of the present police force,
was ordered to proceed. The procession then took its way to the west end
of the bridge, reaching which, it passed down the bank of the creek to the
dry and sandy bed of the stream, returning to a place under the middle
span, whence a hangman's rope dangled, with the noose already prepared for
service. Driving up under this cord, Musgrove was told that he could have
an opportunity to make whatever preparation he should see proper for the
end which was approaching.
His only reply was: "Go on with your work."
He was ordered to stand up, and mounted the seat of the wagon, surveying
the crowd with his usual sullen and calm face. The rope was being tied
about his neck, when Capt. Scudder, then a well known and respected
citizen, standing on the bridge above, began to address the crowd upon
the illegality of the proceedings. Musgrove's countenance did not change.
He coolly took a piece of paper from one vest pocket, and fumbled in the
other vest pocket for some tobacco crumbs, which he took out, rolled in
the paper, made a cigarette, turned the ends with care, placed it in his
mouth, requested a match from the driver, struck it, lighted his cigarette
and smoked it with as much composure as a Mexican ranchero sitting in his
plaza on a summer evening, while Capt. Scudder continued his harangue.
This talk was not heeded. The crowd began to jeer, and to cry: "Drive on!"
Some one hallooed to Musgrove and inquired: "Where are the rest of your
gang?"
"I am sure I don't know," came the reply, "unless you are one of them."
Those were among the man's last words. His hat was pulled down over his
eyes. Musgrove threw his cigarette from his mouth, and feeling the wagon
starting, stooped and sprang into the air.
The wagon was moving but slowly from under the man and he came down on the
floor of the wagon bed. With an expression of great disappointment and
disgust he made another determined leap which should almost, beyond
peradventure, land him in the great beyond. The wagon had moved out this
time, and Musgrove threw his entire weight upon the rope. His neck was
broken by the fall, and death ensued instantly. There were a few shrugs of
the shoulder and all was over. The hat which had played the part of a
hangman's cap was removed before the crowd dispersed and the countenance
was found to have changed but little. It was still sullen and devoid of
any expression of fear. Musgrove had died as he had lived--coldly defiant
of the world.
Referring to the matter at the time a local print said: "The people who
assembled were good men, if we have any good men in the city. They were
quiet and orderly, no shouting, no commotion--waiting to see the law
executed upon one who had outraged them. They comprised a large part of
the men of the city, and were not a crowd or a mob, but an assemblage of
the people."
CHAPTER XV.
THE LAST OF THE MUSGROVE GANG--DUGGAN CAPTURED NEAR CHEYENNE AND
RETURNED TO DENVER--HOW GEN. COOK OUTWITTED THE MOB--DUGGAN IS TAKEN
FROM THE SHERIFF AND EXPIATES HIS CRIME FROM A COTTONWOOD LIMB--DYING
THE DEATH OF A COWARD.
Duggan, it will be remembered, had escaped from the officers at Golden,
but he was not allowed to get away. The descriptions which Gen. Cook had
sent out had been received at Fort Russell, near Cheyenne, and the agents
of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association at that point were on the
lookout for him. They did not wait long. He was picked up in company with
a deserter, riding a stolen horse near Natural Fort, sixteen miles from
Cheyenne, making his way eastward.
Chief Cook hearing of the arrest of Duggan, had himself gone to Cheyenne
after the fugitive. He was satisfied from what he knew of the awakened
spirit of the people of Denver that if they should get an opportunity they
would lynch Duggan, but he was determined that such a fate should not
befall the man while in his custody. In fact, it may be mentioned now,
that Gen. Cook has ever made it a point to see that no prisoner should be
taken from his hands by a mob, and none has ever been. He knew that he
would be expected to get in at a certain time, and thought it more than
probable that a mob would be organized by that time, for the purpose of
taking Duggan from the officers and hanging him. To avert this fate Cook
had caused the stage driver to double his speed and to come into Denver
twelve hours ahead of time. It was fortunate that this precaution had been
taken, for the people had already decided to make another example of
Duggan by hanging him. They were terribly excited, and the watchword of
the town was "Let no villain escape." Duggan must follow in the footsteps
of Musgrove.
But Cook took the town by surprise in his early arrival with the culprit.
They were not organized or ready to make a fight for the man, as they had
determined that they would be by the regular stage arrival time. However,
the approach of the coach was discovered, as the Carr house on Fifteenth
street was passed, by some one who cried out: "Here, boys, come; here's
Cook with Duggan; let's take him!" There was a rush from the hotel, but
Gen. Cook ordered the driver to travel for his life. The horses were
whipped into a dead run, which was kept up until the Larimer street prison
was gained. Notwithstanding this great haste a mob of 500 people had
gathered at the jail when it was reached and the driver had almost to plow
through it with his team. The door was reached at last, however, and the
prisoner, trembling like a leaf in a breeze, was pushed into the jail and
turned over to the county authorities.
But that Duggan's life was not safe even now, all understood perfectly. It
was generally believed that he would be lynched. The impression had gotten
out that the jail would be assailed some time during the afternoon, and
the prisoner taken therefrom and executed, and in consequence of the
rumor, about 4 o'clock a crowd of men, women and children lined the
sidewalk along both sides of Larimer street from Fifteenth street, even on
to the bridge, which was occupied by children principally. They held their
position until nearly or quite dark, when thinking that the expected
exhibition had been indefinitely postponed, they retired to their homes.
They were mistaken in their surmises, as it appears.
It became known in some way that Duggan would be removed from the Larimer
street prison to the city jail on Front street some time during the
evening, and the mob had concluded to improve the occasion by taking him
from the officers and executing him. About 6 o'clock he was taken in an
express wagon for the purpose of the proposed transfer. As the wagon left
the west end of the bridge a whistle was sounded and immediately answered
from the direction of the calaboose. Soon after the wagon crossed the
bridge it was surrounded by ninety or a hundred armed men, who demanded a
halt, and the surrender of the prisoner, and he was turned over to them
without a struggle. Having him in possession they retraced their steps
and turned west, to what was then Cherry street, to a point on that street
where there stood two or three cottonwood trees, and under one of which
the procession halted. The express wagon, which had been taken possession
of, was brought to the front, and placed directly under a limb of the
tree. In a moment a rope was thrown over the limb, and in another moment
Duggan was standing in the wagon immediately under the fatal noose. Some
one then told him if he had any remarks to make, to make them, for his
time among the living was short. He commenced by asking them to send for a
Catholic priest. "I killed a man in the mountains, but it was in
self-defense," he said: "I did not kill the man in the Black Hills; 'twas
another fellow that did it." To the question about having assisted in
garroting Squire Brooks, he first said, "I didn't do it. I have never hurt
anybody or stole anything. I have been a bad man, but I am not guilty of
anything deserving of hanging." He frequently asked that a minister should
be sent for. "One called this afternoon, but hadn't time to stay then, but
wanted me to send for him if anything happened."
[Illustration: Lynching of Duggan in Denver--Fight of Photographers for
View of Remains.]
Again he was warned that his moments were numbered, and again asked to
confess, if he had any confession to make. "I killed the man in the
mountains in self-defense and have been tried and acquitted. The man in
the Black Hills was killed by another fellow. I never stole anything from
anybody. I did assist in robbing Squire Brooks, but I was nearly out of
money and had to do it or starve. I only had six or seven dollars, and
could not get any any other way. I had to do it or die. I have been a very
bad man, but have done nothing to be hanged for. Spare my life; any other
punishment. Oh, my poor mother! it will kill her. Don't let it get to her;
send for a Catholic minister."
His confession or remarks were constantly interrupted by his cries. In
fact, in the trying moment he was completely unmanned, crying and sobbing
like a baby, and uttering prayers for mercy from Him whose laws he had
frequently and repeatedly outraged--a spectacle quite different from that
presented by Musgrove. After he had said all that he had to say, the order
was heard, "Drive on," and the wagon which had served as his frail
bulwark between life and eternity, moved from under, and the spirit of
Sanford S. C. Duggan took its flight to the presence of Him who shall
judge us all according to the deeds done in this world. The fall, about
eighteen inches, broke his neck. He was a man six feet two or three inches
in height and weighed 205 pounds. After the body was cut down it was given
in charge of the coroner.
Thus ended the terrible series of tragedies which began with the shooting
of Miles Hill at Golden on the night of the 22d of November. That the
killings were justified no man who has ever lived on the frontier at such
times as those were will deny. In all these affairs Gen. Cook and his
officers were more or less concerned, but at all times doing all in their
power both to bring offenders against the law to justice, and then to see
that the laws were not violated when they were once secured. The lynchings
they would gladly have prevented, but it was useless for them to fly in
the face of an entire community, which had been outraged and which was
aroused, not so much to vengeance as to the necessity of protecting itself
against the rough element of the plains. The pictures drawn are not
pleasant ones, but they are a part of the history of Denver, and have been
given as such without any attempt at exaggeration or undue coloring.
THE EXCHANGE BANK ROBBERY.
CHAPTER XVI.
ROBBERY OF THE EXCHANGE BANK--FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS STOLEN IN BROAD
DAYLIGHT WITH THE OFFICIALS PRESENT--GEN. COOK GOES TO WORK WITHOUT A
CLUE AND SECURES THE THIEVES AND THE BOOTY IN TWO HOURS.
May 12, 1879, Cole's circus struck its tent in Denver and prepared to give
one of the very creditable performances which generally characterize this
"monster aggregation." The circus had but recently returned to America
from Australia and was passing through the country with considerable
prestige. Being the means of getting large crowds of people together, it
was naturally followed up or accompanied by as depraved a set of sneak
thieves and pickpockets as ever traveled in the shadow of any circus. The
day of the beginning of the series of performances given in this city was
marked by an occurrence which will ever serve to call the date to mind. On
that day a robbery was committed in Denver, which will long be remembered
for the shrewdness with which it was planned, the expediency with which it
was executed, and also for the speedy overtaking of the thieves and the
restoration of the stolen property to its owners. The robbery took place
at the Exchange Bank, then located on the corner of Fifteenth and Blake
streets, about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, while the circus procession was
passing and while the streets in front of the building were thronged with
people, including those engaged in the parade and those who were looking
on as it moved by.
About 1 o'clock the head of the procession began to move up Blake street
from the depot. The cashier of the bank, Mr. J. M. Strickler, was at his
desk. Mr. A. J. Williams, then the vice-president and now the president of
the institution, was in the private office in the rear, and other attachés
of the bank were behind the iron railing. There was a temporary lull in
the task of receiving deposits, and the bank officers, with the exception
of Mr. Strickler, stepped out to the door to see the procession go by.
This left no one behind the counter except Mr. Strickler, who was running
over some deposits that had been made by patrons of the bank, and talking
with a stranger. A few moments later Hon. J. F. Welborn stepped into the
bank and asked Mr. Williams to come out to the front, as he desired to
speak to him a few moments on business. Mr. Williams joined Judge Welborn
at one of the large windows fronting on Blake street, and they stood there
chatting until after the procession had gone by. The other bank officers
returned to their desks, and Mr. Strickler a few minutes later noticed
that a large pile of greenbacks, done up in packages of $500 and upwards,
was missing from the table. Thinking they had been placed in one of the
cash drawers, he asked his assistant, Mr. Rockwell, who replied that he
had not seen the money, and just about that time it began to dawn upon the
officers that their short absence from the counter had cost the
institution nearly $4,000, about that amount of money having been piled
upon the table awaiting deposit.
Gen. Cook was immediately sent for. He found the officers of the bank in a
state of considerable excitement, and all of them thoroughly at sea. The
robbery was to them a terrible mystery. None of them had been out of the
bank at all and Mr. Strickler, the efficient cashier, had remained
continuously in his office. They could not have believed that the bank had
been robbed if they had not had the evidence which their eyes furnished
that the money, which a few minutes before had been there, was missing.
That some one should have come into the building and taken out $4,000 in
money, even at a time when there was a circus around, seemed to them well
nigh incredible. But the fact stared them in the face that the money had
disappeared, and they came to Cook to find it. No one could suggest a
point that would be of assistance, and he began to put questions, with the
hope of getting some clue which would aid him in his apparently almost
hopeless search. The clue was at last obtained. Mr. Strickler remembered
that while the other officials and the employés of the bank had been out
looking at the circus, he had been engaged in conversation with an
individual who had brought in a $100 note to get it changed, and the note
being of doubtful appearance, he had seemed bent upon drawing the cashier
into an animated discussion, which was carried on on the part of the
stranger in an unnecessarily loud and vehement tone of voice.
"That is the man we want to get," said Cook. "He was the steerer for the
thieves."
The detective at once jumped at the conclusion that ordinarily a man would
not go into a bank to get change while a circus was passing. The man's
manner, when further described, confirmed the opinion previously formed,
and he obtained a description of the fellow as speedily as possible, upon
which thread he went to work to run the case down and restore the bank its
stolen funds.
Before starting out, however, he made a survey of the building, for the
purpose of completing his theory of the _modus operandi_ of the robbery
and how many had been engaged in it.
The portion of the building occupied as a bank was composed of two
rooms--a large one, in which the active employés were engaged, and a
smaller one, used as his private office by Mr. Williams. The two
communicated through a partition door, and both had doors opening upon
Fifteenth street.
The rear door on Blake street, leading into the private office, was
usually locked with a spring lock, working from the inside. It could not
be opened without a key, except from the inside. From the private office
there was a door leading into the inner portion of the bank, enclosed with
counters and railings, and another door leading straight to the front
entrance. Gen. Cook concluded that the plan must have been arranged
beforehand, and the theft committed without any delay. The rear door being
open, a person could gain access to the vaults and cash drawers, and by
stooping low would not be visible to any one on the outside of the
counter. It was therefore presumed that while one of the thieves guarded
the rear door for his pal and another talked with the cashier, the third
crawled deftly on his hands and knees and reached up for the money,
sweeping the counter pretty clear, and taking all the currency that was in
sight. The time consumed by the procession in passing was sufficiently
long to enable the thieves to do this without showing their hurry or doing
the work bunglingly.
This work being accomplished, the thief who had taken the money wrapped it
in a red handkerchief and crept to the back door. Seeing his friend clear,
the man with the $100 bill took his departure and all three joined on the
outside, passing hurriedly down Fifteenth street and past the Elephant
corral, as had been noticed by spectators, who did not, of course, know
what had transpired in the bank. At that corral, as was afterwards
learned, a portion of the money was left.
Having a description of one of the men who had been in the robbery, and
being in possession of the course that the robbers had taken, Cook went to
work himself and sent others of his officers out in the search. They had
some hope of finding the thieves through other operations, and some of the
detectives attended the circus for the purpose of getting a clue of this
kind. The fact that a number of smaller robberies were committed during
the forenoon, and, in every instance, in the crowds where the procession
passed, strengthened the theory that there was a well-organized gang at
work, and that they were doing their work under cover of Cole's circus
procession. But a more hopeless task could hardly be imagined. Here was a
bank robbed in broad daylight, with the officers and clerks moving about
the room and keeping a watchful eye on the money deposits. No one who
could recognize them had seen the thieves enter or depart, and no one
connected with the bank could give the officers any but the slightest clue
as to the character or appearance of the bold outlaws. But Cook is not a
man prone to give up the track of a thief because the trail happens to be
cold. According to methods and intuitions of his own he went to work. He
relied mainly upon his great knowledge of the thieves of the country,
believing that if the robbers had been well known and experienced crooks,
as their work showed they were, he would know them or some of them when he
should come upon them.
He accordingly set out to look for his men. Two hours afterwards brought
the welcome information to the bank that two out of the three robbers had
been captured and part of the money recovered. In his search Gen. Cook
visited the American house, and while sauntering about there, Cook's eyes
fell upon a form that was not unknown to the eyes of the detective. A
brief retrospection caused him to remember the man as one Joe Parrish, a
noted thief, whom he had seen ten years before in Chicago. He was observed
to be accompanied by another man, whose face could not be seen at first.
The two moved about suspiciously, and Cook decided upon a closer
investigation of the pair. At last he obtained a full view of Parrish's
partner, and found him to be not only a first-water Italian crook from St.
Louis, but also that his description answered that given by Mr. Strickler
of the man who had called to get a bill changed. These were the men
wanted. Of this fact Gen. Cook was quite certain. He consequently left
them and went in search of his deputy, Mr. Smith. That gentleman joining
his chief, they returned to the American house "for business."
Spotting their men, who did not seem to be laboring under any uneasiness
of apprehension, they decided upon immediate arrest, and came down upon
them like a thousand of brick. Cook walked deliberately up to Parrish, a
genteely dressed young man, with a Jewish cast of countenance, and
announced that he was under the pleasant necessity of placing him under
arrest. Parrish--who subsequently gave his name as F. Wiggins--made no
resistance; did not even raise the slightest objection or remonstrance.
Meanwhile, Smith had approached the other party and placed him under
arrest. This man--who gave his name as I. H. Russell, though it was an
alias--was also neatly dressed and of gentlemanly appearance. He
exclaimed, as Smith laid his hands upon him: "Well, well!" Only this and
nothing more.
As the officers were conveying their prisoners to a coach, however,
preparatory to taking them to jail, Russell turned to Gen. Cook and said:
"Will you be kind enough to tell me what this is all about?"
He also informed Cook that he was a lawyer in good standing, afterwards
stating that he had come to Denver as a commercial traveler, and was
selling jewelry. When Cook asked him where his samples were, he replied
that he was dealing in cheap jewelry and did not carry any samples.
Wiggins never spoke a word from the time of his arrest till he was behind
the bars.
While Smith was looking after the prisoners in the office of the American
house, Cook went up to the room--No. 73--occupied by Wiggins and Russell
and instituted a vigorous search. The prisoners were also carefully
searched, and $800 in all was found upon the two, the bulk of which was
identified as money stolen from the bank. A portion of the money found
upon the prisoners was $100 in five and ten-dollar bills, which was hidden
in the front part of one of Mr. Wiggins' shoes.
Both the prisoners stoutly protested their innocence of the crime charged
against them, but the proof of their guilt was as straight as could
possibly have been desired, and no one entertained any doubt that the
right men had been taken. The job was one of the neatest ever performed by
a detective in any place, and Gen. Cook and his co-worker were praised on
every hand. Starting out at 2 o'clock without a single clue, they had in
two hours found and jailed the robbers and secured a fine roll of money,
if not all or the bulk of it. "With such detectives as these in Denver,"
said one, "thieves will certainly conclude that this is not the place for
them." "They are better than all the iron safes in the country," said
another. Indeed, the detectives were congratulated upon every han
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