10 - The Famous Harry Thaw & Stanford White Case of 1906.  
The Harry Thaw & Stanford White case of 1906 is perhaps one of the most famous cases of the 20th Century in terms of newspaper coverage and books written. The case had all the elements a lasting true crime story requires: high society, famous people, sex, jealousy, and cocaine. The following story was published in 1910.  
Stanford White was born in 1852, and after receiving a college education in America, his father sent him to Europe to study architecture.  
When he returned to New York he became a member of the firm known as McKim, Meade & White. He advanced rapidly in his profession, until he was considered one of the greatest architects in America. He drew the plans for the famous Madison Square Garden in New York, where he subsequently came to a tragic end.  
Although he had an estimable wife residing in Cambridge, Mass., and a grown son who was at the time attending Harvard College, White had a suite of rooms in the tower of the Madison Square Garden, which he called his studio, but where he gave a great variety of spicy entertainments.  
Frequently his guests were girls of tender years. One of the “events” in the tower was a stag dinner, and when the time for dessert arrived an immense pie was brought into the room. Suddenly a beautiful 15-year-old girl, scantily attired, burst through the crust, and after posing for an instant, she joined the guests.  
It was claimed that this girl afterward became one of White’s victims.  
Evelyn Nesbit was born near Pittsburg on Christmas Day, 1884. Her father died when she was 12 years of age, and about three years later her mother, who has been referred to as a frivolous and extravagant woman, married a Pittsburg broker named Charles Holman.  
As Evelyn was a remarkably beautiful child she earned considerable money by posing for artists in Pittsburg and afterward in New York. She subsequently became a chorus girl.  
In the spring of 1901 Evelyn met a wealthy married man named James Garland, and shortly afterward she and her mother were his guests on a yachting trip.  
Later Mrs. Garland sued her husband for a divorce and Evelyn Nesbit was said to have been mentioned as the reason.  
According to Evelyn’s own statement a young woman friend invited her to dinner in New York in August, 1901, and without having the slightest idea as to where she was going to dine, Evelyn was inveigled by this girl into the studio in the tower where she met Stanford White for the first time.  
About one month after the first meeting, White invited her to the tower at the conclusion of the Florodora performance in which she was a chorus girl.  
She claimed that White represented that three other girls would be in the party. When Evelyn arrived at the studio White stated that the other girls had disappointed him, but he invited Evelyn to remove her hat and take a glass of champagne.  
She reluctantly accepted the invitation, and after partaking of the wine she immediately lost consciousness. When her mind again cleared she found herself in the bedroom of the suite, the walls and ceiling of which were covered with mirrors.  
Realizing that an assault had been committed upon her, she became hysterical, but White finally succeeding in pacifying her and then exacted a promise that she would never tell her mother of what had just transpired.  
For several months afterward White met Evelyn clandestinely and the intimate relationship continued. In the meantime he was introduced to Evelyn’s mother and won his way into her confidence. Posing as the protector of the family he rendered financial assistance to Evelyn with the mother’s knowledge and consent.  
William Thaw was one of the most prominent men in Pittsburg, and when he died he left an estate valued at $35,000,000, to be distributed among his family, consisting of Mrs. Thaw and several children.  
Among these children was Alice Thaw, who married the Earl of Yarmouth, but was subsequently divorced; and Harry Kendall Thaw.  
The latter was a wild, eccentric youth with such extravagant habits that his father provided in his will that Harry should receive only a monthly allowance. He had a penchant for chorus girls, and in that manner met Evelyn Nesbit some months after her first experience with White in the tower. They became very friendly, and Thaw showered her with tokens of his regard.  
About this time White gave a dinner to which several guests were invited, including Jack Barrymore the actor, and Evelyn Nesbit. According to Evelyn’s statement, Barrymore afterward proposed marriage to her, and as White was apparently jealous of the young man, he suggested to Evelyn’s mother that the girl be sent to Mrs. De Mine’s private school in New Jersey.  
As the mother was also opposed to Barrymore she readily agreed to White’s suggestions.  
While at this school Thaw and White were such frequent visitors that there was considerable gossip among the pupils regarding their relations with Evelyn. About this time she underwent an operation for appendicitis, but as soon as she recovered she returned to New York, where she resumed the improper relationship with White, the meetings usually taking place in the tower after her night’s work at the theater. During this time White was contributing liberally toward her support.  
In the early part of 1902 she discontinued her intimate relationship with White, according to her statement, but when she and her mother left for Paris a few months later as the guests of Thaw the girl had in her possession a letter of credit from White.  
After Evelyn and her mother traveled in Europe a few months with Thaw, the mother and daughter had a violent quarrel, which resulted in the former returning to America, leaving Thaw and the daughter alone. The pair then traveled under assumed names as man and wife.  
According to Evelyn’s statement she and Thaw were in Paris in June, 1903, when Thaw proposed marriage to her. She claimed that she hesitated and finally answered “No.”  
When pressed for a reason for her refusal, she stated that she then confided to Thaw all of her relations with White.  
Evelyn returned to New York on October 25, 1903, and was followed by Thaw in November.  
On October 27 Evelyn met White by appointment and went with him to the law office of Abe Hummel.  
In this office a lengthy affidavit was prepared in which it was charged that while on the trip through Europe Thaw frequently beat Miss Nesbit until she became unconscious, and that his reason for so doing was because Evelyn had refused to make an affidavit to the effect that White had drugged and outraged her, she, according to the affidavit, stating that such a statement would be false. The affidavit further alleged that Thaw was a cocaine fiend and that Miss Nesbit found a hypodermic syringe in Thaw’s bureau and saw him swallow cocaine pills.  
Although Evelyn Nesbit signed this statement she afterward claimed that she had been wilfully misquoted and that while she signed a paper some days later at the tower, she did not know its contents at the time. A. S. Snydecker afterward swore that Miss Nesbit read the paper carefully before signing it.
When Thaw returned from Europe Evelyn told him of this incident, and at Thaw’s request the affidavit was subsequently burned in Hummel’s office in Evelyn’s presence, but Hummel took the precaution to have it photographed first, and this photograph afterward became one of the principal exhibits in one of the most sensational murder trials in the criminal history of America.  
After the affidavit was burned Evelyn ceased to associate with White and devoted most of her time to Thaw. They registered at several hotels in New York, but were requested to leave.  
According to a statement made by Ben Bowman, an employee at the Madison Square Garden, White called after the performance on December 28, 1903, and inquired if Evelyn Nesbit had gone home.  
When informed that she had, White pulled out a revolver and swore that he ‘would kill Thaw at once. Bowman related this alleged occurrence to Thaw shortly afterward.  
After much persuasion Mrs. Thaw consented to her son’s marriage, and he and Evelyn became man and wife in Pittsburg on April 4, 1905.  
A few months later Thaw visited Anthony Comstock, Superintendent of the Society for the Prevention of Vice in New York, and reported that White was using his suite in the tower as a trap for young girls.  
An investigation was instituted, but no tangible evidence was obtained. Thaw did not mention his own wife’s experience.  
Mrs. Harry Thaw claimed that after she was married she saw White a couple of times and he attempted to annoy her by his attentions. She related these incidents to her husband and also told him that a Miss Mabel MacKenzie had informed her that White had openly boasted that he would get her (Mrs. Thaw) back from Thaw.  
On the evening of June 25, 1906, Thaw and his wife and Truxtun Beale, formerly, of San Francisco, had dinner at the Cafe Martin in New York. While they were dining, White and his son passed through the cafe, and Mrs. Thaw called her husband’s attention to the occurrence.  
After dinner the Thaw party proceeded to the Madison Square Roof Garden, where the play “Mam’zelle Champagne” was being produced.  
Presently White entered alone and took a seat within view of the Thaw party. Harry became very restless and began walking about the place. Finally Mrs. Thaw suggested that they leave and the party proceeded to do so, Thaw apparently following the remainder of the party.  
When he reached the table where White was seated Thaw suddenly turned, and facing White he drew a revolver and fired three shots, the first bullet passing through White’s eye into the brain, c

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09 - The Warden’s Wife: Kate Soffel & The Biddle Brothers, 1902.    
During the early months of 1901, twenty-seven burglaries were committed in Pittsburgh, and the modus operandi of these bold thieves convinced the authorities that the crimes were all committed by the same persons.  
In the early morning of April 12 an effort was made to burglarize the grocery-store conducted by Thomas Kahney, who discovered them in the act and was shot dead by one of the thieves.
On the same morning Inspector of Police Robert Gray and Detective Patrick Fitzgerald received information that the movements of a gang of men and women living at 34 Fulton Street should be investigated.  
The officers proceeded to the house, and upon being refused admission they began to force an entry. As they did so, a shot was fired which killed Fitzgerald.  
A posse then surrounded the house and two brothers, named Ed and Jack Biddle, Frank Dorman and two women, known as Jennie Wilcox and Jessie Wright, were arrested.  
It was then learned that the men of this gang committed many and probably all of the twenty-seven burglaries above referred to and also the murder of Kahney, the grocer.  
The entire gang was charged with murder, the two brothers being convicted and sentenced to be hanged on December 12, 1901.  
Dorman was sentenced to life imprisonment and the two women were acquitted.
The Governor granted the Biddle brothers a respite of sixty days, during which time they were confined in the Alleghany County Jail in Pittsburgh.  
At 4 a. m. January 30, 1902, Ed Biddle called from his cell to Guard James McGeary and announced that his brother had been taken suddenly ill and requested that the guard procure some cramp medicine immediately.  
McGeary hastened to comply with the request, and when he returned with the medicine the Biddles broke through the bars which they had sawed almost in two. They then grappled with McGeary and threw him over a railing down to a cement floor sixteen feet below. The guard struck on his head and for some time it was believed he would die.  
The desperate men then produced revolvers which had been smuggled in to them and they shot another guard named Reynolds, inflicting a serious but not fatal wound.  
As only one other guard was present, they covered him with a revolver and threw him into the dungeon where his outcries could not be heard.  
As these two men then became complete masters of the prison, they took the keys from McGeary’s person and walked out of the prison into Ross Street.  
When Warden Peter Soffel was informed of what had transpired he almost collapsed, but when he recovered himself he stated that his wife, the mother of his four children, had disappeared and that circumstances convinced him that her infatuation for Ed Biddle, who was a handsome fellow, caused her to surreptitiously supply the brothers with the saws and weapons and that she had probably accompanied them in their flight.  
At this time the ground was completely covered with snow and a posse, consisting of three Pittsburg detectives and five other officers, started in pursuit in sleighs.  
On the next day, January 31st, the officers learned that the Biddle brothers and Mrs. Soffel had dinner at J. J. Stevens’ home at Mount Chestnut, five miles east of Butler, Pa.  
The officers started in pursuit, and upon nearing Mc-Clure’s barn, two miles from Mount Prospect, they saw the two brothers and Mrs. Soffel attempting to escape in a sleigh. When the officers got within sixty yards of the trio they commanded them to halt, but as the order was ignored the officers opened fire with their rifles.  
The brothers responded, and during the fusillade they received fatal wounds and rolled off the sleigh on to the snow. Mrs. Soffel was also wounded in the breast and fell on to the snow, but by a miracle none of the officers was injured.  
The three injured persons were taken to the hospital at Butler, Pa., where Ed Biddle admitted that Mrs. Soffel had rendered the only assistance they had received.  
He stated that her reason for so doing was because she believed they were innocent men about to be hanged.  
John Biddle died at the Butler hospital at 7:35 p. m. on February 1 and Ed died three hours later.
Mrs. Soffel was seriously but not fatally wounded. When she realized what she had done she expressed the wish that she would also die. She added that the brothers were forced to leave the jail earlier than intended, as she had learned that the cells were to be inspected in a few days and she feared that the officials would discover where the bars had been sawed.  
When Mrs. Soffel fell from the sleigh she dropped a long letter written by Ed Biddle to her, which showed that she fell in love with the desperado in November, 1901, and on December 2 she began preparations to liberate him.  
It was she who purchased the saws and weapons and smuggled them in to the prisoners.
Mrs. Soffel was prosecuted for her part in the jail break and sent to State Prison for two years. After her release she tried the theatrical business, but the performance was stopped by the authorities. She then went into seclusion, changed her name and earned her living as a dressmaker, fully repentant for her mad infatuation for Biddle.  
On August 30, 1909, she died at the West Pennsylvania Hospital in Pittsburg from a complication of diseases. 


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Candy From a Stranger: The Cordelia Botkin Case of 1898.  
On February 12, 1891, John P. Dunning, who became famous as a war correspondent, married Miss Mary Pennington, daughter of ex-Congressman John Pennington, in Dover, Delaware, and the couple came to San Francisco to reside. 
The next year a little daughter was born. The family then moved to 2529 California Street, and while living at this address, Dunning took a stroll in Golden Gate Park one afternoon and flirted with a woman sitting on a bench. They entered into a conversation, during which the woman said her name was “Curtis,” and that her husband was in England. After they became more familiar the woman admitted that she was the wife of Welcome A. Botkin, whom she married in Kansas City on September 26, 1872, and that she had a grown son named Beverly. Her maiden name was Cordelia Brown, and the town of Brownsville, Nebraska, was named after her father. Botkin was for many years connected with the Missouri Valley Bank in Kansas City, but lived in Stockton, California, with his son, Beverly, at the time his wife met Dunning. While his wife remained in San Francisco Dunning met Mrs. Botkin clandestinely, but Mrs. Dunning took her baby to her father’s home in Dover, Delaware, and thereafter her husband and Mrs. Botkin were constant companions at the races and cafes.  
Mrs. Botkin moved to 927 Geary Street and Dunning took a room in the same building. In the course of conversation he told Mrs. Botkin that his wife was passionately fond of candy and that she had a very dear friend in San Francisco named Mrs. Corbaley. 
On March 8, 1898, Dunning accepted a position as war correspondent with the Associated Press, which made it necessary for him to depart immediately for Porto Rico. When he told Mrs. Botkin his plans, she pleaded with him to remain with her. He turned a deaf ear to her pleadings and told her bluntly that he would never return to San Francisco. 
She accompanied him across the bay and wept bitterly when they parted. 
On August 9, 1898, a small package arrived in Dover, Delaware, addressed to Mrs. John P. Dunning. That package was placed in the mail box belonging to her father, and was called for by Mr. Pennington’s little grandson and taken home. 
The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Pennington, their two daughters, Mrs. Dunning and Mrs. Joshua Deane ; their son-in-law, Mr. Deane, and the two little children of Mr. and Mrs. Deane. 
After supper the family repaired to the veranda, and Mrs. Dunning opened the package, which proved to be a fancy candy box containing a handkerchief, chocolate creams and a small slip of paper on which were the following words: 
“With love to yourself and baby.—Mrs. C.” 
Mrs. Dunning could not imagine who had sent the package, but being a noble woman, with friends galore, she did not suspect that she had an enemy in the world, and therefore her suspicion was not aroused. 
Mrs. Dunning and Mrs. Deane and the latter’s two children partook of the candy, as did also two young ladies, Miss Millington and Miss Bateman, who chanced to pass the Pennington residence while the family were seated on the veranda. During that night all who partook of the candy were taken with retching pains in the stomach and vomited freely. 
All recovered with the exception of Mrs. Dunning, who died on August 12, and Mrs. Deane, who died on August 11. Autopsies disclosed the fact that these ladies died from arsenic poisoning. 
Mr. Pennington examined the handwriting on the box and on the slip of paper and discovered that it corresponded with the handwriting of an unknown person who had written an anonymous communication from San Francisco to Mrs. Dunning many months previously, in which it was alleged that Mr. Dunning was on intimate terms with a woman in San Francisco. Dr. Wood, a chemist, examined the candy which had not been eaten, and discovered a large amount of arsenic present. 
John P. Dunning was advised by telegraph of what had transpired and he proceeded at once to Dover. He immediately recognized the handwriting as that of Mrs. Botkin and recalled his remark to her regarding his wife’s fondness for candy, and also that his wife had a friend in San Francisco named Mrs. Corbaly, which accounted for the initial “C.” signed to the note. 
Detective B. J. McVey was sent to San Francisco with the candy, handkerchief, candy box and the note found in the box. Chief of Police I. W. Lees took charge of the case. Mrs. Botkin was located in Stockton, Cal., where she was living with her husband and son. Detective Ed. Gibson brought her to San Francisco, and in a few days an overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence was piled up against her. 
She was positively identified by Miss Sylvia Heney and Miss Kittie Dittmer as the woman who, on July 31, bought candy in the candy store of George Haas under the Phelan block on Market Street. Miss Heney furthermore swore that this woman requested that the candy be placed in a fancy box which did not have the firm’s name on it, and also instructed that the box be not filled completely as she had another article to place in the box. 
John P. Dunning produced love letters written to him by Mrs. Botkin, and handwriting expert Theodore Kytka testified to what was obvious to all, namely, that the person who wrote the love letters wrote the address on the candy box and the note therein. 
Mrs. Botkin even neglected to remove the store tag from the handkerchief which she purchased in the “City of Paris” store from Mrs. Grace Harris, who even recalled the conversation she held with Mrs. Botkin. When asked why she recalled this so clearly, she stated that Mrs. Botkin’s resemblance to her dead mother startled her. She subsequently produced a photograph of her mother to show the striking resemblance. 
Frank Grey, a druggist employed at the “Owl” drug store, positively identified Mrs. Botkin as the woman who had pur-chased two ounces of arsenic for the alleged purpose of bleaching a straw hat, and insisted upon getting this drug even when the druggist informed her that there were other preparations better adapted for the purpose. 
On August 4 the package of candy was mailed at the Ferry Post Office and was particularly noticed by a postal clerk named John Dunnigan because the address, “Mrs. John Dunning,” reminded him of his own name. On this same day Mrs. Botkin left San Francisco for St. Helena. 
Mrs. Almura Ruoff related a conversation she had with Mrs. Botkin in Stockton on July 27, 1898, in which the latter made inquiries as to the effect of different poisons on the human system, and asked if it was necessary to sign one’s name when sending a registered package through the mail. 
After Mrs. Botkin left the Hotel Victoria at Hyde and California streets, where she had been stopping some months, W. P. Rossello, a porter, and W. W. Barnes, a clerk, found a torn piece of a gilded seal, similar to those pasted on candy boxes, on the floor of room 26, which Mrs. Botkin vacated. It was proved that the seal came from Haas’ store and the wrapping on the candy box clearly showed where it had been removed. 
Extradition papers were forwarded from Delaware as it was planned to take her there for trial, but her attorney, George Knight, attempted to procure her release on the grounds that the evidence was insufficient, and furthermore, that the jurisdiction for the trial was in California and not Delaware. 
Superior Judges Cook, Borden, Wallace, Troutt and Seawell, sitting en banc, rendered a decision on October 23 to the effect that the jurisdiction for the trial was in California, as Mrs. Botkin’s flight from Delaware was not actual but constructive. This decision was upheld by the Supreme Court. 
The evidence was presented to the Grand Jury and on October 28, 1898, Mrs. Botkin was indicted. On December 9, 1898, the trial for the murder of Mrs. Dunning began. 
On December 19, while testifying in the case, John P. Dunning refused to mention the names of other women he had been intimate with, and he was adjudged guilty of contempt and sent to jail, where he remained for several days until the question was withdrawn. 
On December 30, 1898, Mrs. Botkin was found guilty and on February 4, 1899, she was sentenced to life imprisonment. 
On March 9 Mrs. Botkin’s husband, Welcome A. Botkin, sued her for a divorce on the grounds that she had been convicted of a felony. 
Before Mrs. Botkin could be sent to State prison, a decision was rendered by the State Supreme Court in the case of “Albert Hoff,” who murdered Mrs. Clute on Guerrero street, wherein it was decided that the trial Judge erred when, in his charge to the jury, he stated that “circumstantial evidence has the advantage over direct evidence, because it is not likely to be fabricated.” It was held that by so doing he expressed to the jury his opinion upon the force and effect of the testimony and intimated his views of its sufficiency. As the same form of charge was delivered in the Botkin and numerous other cases, she experienced no difficulty in obtaining a new trial. 
This necessitated the bringing of all the Delaware witnesses back to San Francisco. The second trial also resulted in a verdict of guilty and on August 2, 1904, she was again sentenced to life imprisonment, which judgment was affirmed by the State Supreme Court on October 29, 1908. 
After the conviction of Mrs. Botkin she was confined in the Branch County Jail, pending the decision from the higher court. 
About this time Superior Judge Cook lost his wife and each Sunday he visited her grave, riding out on a car which passed the jail. On one Sunday he was astonished at seeing Cordelia Botkin in the same car and apparently unguarded. The murderess signaled the car to stop at the county jail and she proceeded in the direction of that institution, but was

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The Lady and The Troll, the Murder of Mrs. Mary Clute, San Francisco, 1897.  
Albert Frederick George Vereneseneckockockhoff (Alias Albert Hoff), Murderer of Mrs. Mary Clute.  
In the latter part of 1897, Mrs. Mary Clute, wife of a prominent commercial traveler, resided at 230 Page Street, San Francisco.  
She was a lady of attractive appearance and had a host of friends because of her kindly disposition. 
Albert F. G. Vereneseneckockockhoff, commonly known as “Hoff,” was a short, chunky, middle-aged German, with a heavy, ill-kept beard and a coarse, brutal face, which took on a fiendish expression when he was angered. He resided at the Lindell House, No. 262 Sixth Street, and made a living by working as a handy man about different homes.  
On December 12, 1897, Mrs. Clute decided to move from 230 Page Street to 803 Guerrero Street. Having previously employed Hoff to do some upholstering, she sent a note to the Lindell House, requesting him to call the next day. She then went to a store to purchase some carpet lining, but the upholsterer informed her that he would not sell her the lining unless he was given the work of laying the carpet. This was the work she intended to give to Hoff, but having no assurance that he would respond promptly, she accepted the upholsterer’s terms.  
Hoff called on her the next morning, and she explained her predicament and expressed regret that she had inconvenienced him. Hoff’s manner plainly indicated his displeasure, but to compensate him for his loss of time, Mrs. Cute told him to come the next afternoon and she would give him a job hanging her pictures. The next day, December 15, Hoff called at 803 Guerrero Street shortly after noon, but as Mrs. Cute was not at the house, he rang the door bell of the lower flat and one of the occupants, Mrs. L. A. Legg, came to the door. Hoff announced his business and made inquiry as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Clute. Upon learning that she was not in, he proceeded to 230 Page Street, arriving about 4 p. m. There he met Mrs. Clute who informed him that she was exceedingly sorry, but her expressman had disappointed her, and that she would surely be moved the next day, and requested Hoff to call at 803 Guerrero Street at I p. m. December 16.  
At this time Hoff was slightly intoxicated; his breath was foul; his whiskers were besmeared with liquor, and he was in an ugly mood because of his loss of time. Mrs. Clute then said to Mrs. Uchold, a neighbor, in the presence of Hoff, that she was going over to her new home, and left Hoff talking with Mrs. Uchold regarding some work the latter contemplated giving him. When they had finished their conversation, Hoff announced that he was going to see Mrs. Clute, to which Mrs. Uchold replied: “Why are you going there, she does not want you until tomorrow?”  
Hoff apparently disregarded this remark, and proceeded to 803 Guerrero Street.  
A few moments after 4 p. m., Mrs. Legg, who lived in the flat below Mrs. Clute’s new home, saw this man return, ring Mrs. Clute’s bell and go upstairs. At this time Mrs. Clute was in her new flat with Jos. Foley, who was laying the carpets. At 4:45 p. m. Foley left and at that time Hoff was walking aimlessly about the flat while Mrs. Clute was engaged with some housework.  
Mrs. Legg’s aged father-in-law resided with her and her husband in the lower flat, and about 5 p. m. he rushed into the kitchen and exclaimed excitedly to his daughter-in-law, who was preparing dinner: “I thought I heard you scream.”  
They listened a second and then they heard something heavy fall in the upper flat. Mrs. Legg started upstairs and seeing Hoff passing from one room to another called out:  
“What is the matter up there ?” Hoff made no reply and the lady, becoming alarmed, returned to her father-in-law. Presently they saw Hoff sneak away from the house with a small bag on his shoulder, in which he carried his tools. They called out to him to learn the cause of the disturbance upstairs, but he pretended not to hear them and hurried away. An investigation was then instituted and Mrs. Clute’s horribly mutilated body was found in a back room. Her head was lying in a pool of blood; her face was beaten beyond recognition; there were eight different fractures of the skull and near the body was found a railroad coupling pin covered with blood.  
Mrs. Clute wore valuable jewelry and also had a well-filled purse with her at the time she was killed. As none of these valuables were taken the motive for the crime has never been proven, although it is probable that Mrs. Legg’s unexpected appearance on the scene caused the murderer to abandon his original plans and consider nothing but the possibility of being discovered.  
The next day the papers devoted considerable space to this crime and dwelt at length on Mrs. Legg’s observations. Hoff read this, and realizing that there would be no difficulty in locating him, he called on Police Chief Lees and trembling with suppressed excitement, announced that he was the man Mrs. Legg probably referred to, but denied all knowledge of the crime. He stated that Mrs. Clute was alive and well when he left the house and that Mrs. Legg did not come upon the stairs and inquire as to the cause of any noise, nor did any one call to him regarding anything of the kind when he left the house. He disclaimed all knowledge of any coupling pin and laughingly inquired as to what use a carpet-layer would have for such a cumbersome thing.  
The laugh ceased, however, when J. G. Zimbleman and Mayer May stated positively that they had seen the same pin with Hoff’s tools on previous occasions.  
While being interrogated by Chief Lees and Detective John Seymour, Hoff studiously held his hat in one position in his left hand and it attracted the attention of Detective Seymour, who asked: “What is the matter with your left hand?”  
“Nothing,” replied Hoff.  
But upon being examined, a deep cut was found in the palm. He told two different stories as to how this happened. On one occasion he stated that it was caused by handling a board with a nail in it and on another occasion he said it was caused by coming in contact with a tack which was in some carpet he handled at Mrs. Clute’s house.  
The theory was advanced that Mrs. Clute inflicted this wound with a dust pan while trying to defend herself.  
Hoff was charged with the murder. On March 15, 1898, his trial began, and on April 2 he was found guilty and was subsequently sentenced to be hanged.  
His attorney, William Schooley, appealed to the Supreme Court on the grounds that the trial judge had erred in the instructions given to the jury. The prosecution in this case depended entirely on circumstantial evidence and in delivering his instructions to the jury the trial judge said: “Circumstantial evidence has this great advantage that various circumstances from various sources are not likely to be fabricated.”  
It was held that whether it is entitled to such credit or not, is a question to be determined by the jury from the evidence, and that therefore the charge was plainly an argument for the prosecution, and in violation of Section 19, Article VI, of the Constitution, which provides that: “Judges shall not charge juries with respect to matters of fact, but may state the testimony and declare the law.”  
Hoff was granted a new trial, which began on December 3, 1900, before Judge Carroll Cook, and on December 15, exactly three years after the commission of the crime, he was again found guilty of murder with the penalty fixed at life imprisonment.  
(The decision of the Supreme Court in this case also resulted in Mrs. Cordelia Botkin being granted a new trial. See Candy from a Stranger, the Cordelia Botkin case of 1898.)  
On the night after Hoff committed this murder he slept with a shoemaker named Robert Goepel, at 524 Post Street, and he attempted to prove an alibi by this man, who on September 16, 1898, committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.   


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Adolph Luetgert and His Dissolving Wife, 1897.  
On May 1, Mrs. Luetgert suddenly disappeared, but her husband was apparently unconcerned regarding her absence and advanced the theory that she had committed suicide because of his failure in business.  
On May 4, Deidrich Bicknesse, Mrs. Luetgert’s brother, called to see her, and Luetgert informed him that she had been missing for three days, but admitted that he had not notified the police of the singular incident nor had he taken any steps to locate her.  
Bicknesse, observing Luetgert’s utter indifference, had the police notified and Captain Herman Schuettler instituted an investigation.  
The press gave much publicity to the mysterious disappearance and the police began a general search, even going to the extent of dragging the river for a considerable distance, but nothing was discovered.  
Finally Captain Schuettler decided to confine his investigation to the factory in general but to a large vat therein in particular, and a rapid solution of the mystery followed.  
In the sediment in the bottom of the vat, two gold rings, one having the initials “L. L.” engraved inside, a tooth, and two corset steels were found.  
The rings were positively identified as the property of Mrs. Louise Luetgert, and in the yard where the bones from the animals were thrown, a part of a skull and other pieces of human bones were found.  
It was learned that during the period between May 2 and May 17 Luetgert made many efforts to gain an entrance to the factory, but was always refused admission by the sheriff’s deputies who were in charge.  
On May 18, Luetgert was arrested and four days later was indicted by the grand jury.  
He attempted to gain his freedom on a writ of habeas corpus but failed.  
On August 7, the prosecution obtained a corpse, and placing it in the identical vat where Mrs. Luetgert’s body was destroyed, boiled it in caustic potash for two hours. At the expiration of that time, nothing remained of the fleshy parts of the body but a fluid and all of the bones, except the larger ones, were completely destroyed.  
This proved that their theory was correct.  
On August 24, Luetgert’s trial began before Judge Tuthill. The attorney for Luetgert claimed that he had also made a test with a corpse, but that the boiling process did not dissolve it. The contention of the defense was that no crime had been committed and that Mrs. Luetgert was not dead, but was remaining in seclusion. A letter was received by Alderman Schlake signed by “Loisa Luetgert,” in which the missing woman was represented as saying that she was then living with friends in Chicago, but it was shown that the handwriting in no manner resembled that of the missing woman and the missive was evidently sent for the purpose of con¬fusing the authorities.  
Nicholas Faber and Emma and Gottliebe Schimpke testified that they saw Luetgert enter his factory about 10 p. m. on the night of May 1 with a woman about the size of Mrs. Luetgert.  
Frank Bialk, a watchman in the factory, which had been shut down since the failure, testified that on this night, Luetgert instructed him to bring down two barrels of caustic potash and place them in the boiler room, and that Luetgert then poured the contents of both barrels in one of the vats. The watchman was instructed to keep up steam all night and at 10 p. m. he was sent by Luetgert to the drug store after some nerve medicine.  
When he returned, Luetgert was in the room where the vats were located and had the door locked.  
Bialk furthermore testified that he resided at the home of Police Officer Klinger and that on May 6 Luetgert called on him. After concealing the officer under the bed in Bialk’s room, Luetgert was admitted to the room and in suppressed excitement asked if the officers had discovered anything at the factory. Bialk answered “No,” and Luetgert, with a show of relief, remarked: “That’s good.”  
He then admonished the watchman to tell the police nothing and promised that when the factory re-opened, good positions would be provided for Bialk and his son.  
Frank Odorfsky, an employee of the factory, who assisted Luetgert to put the caustic potash in the vat; testified that in all his experience in the factory he had never seen caustic potash used there before.  
Mrs. Agatha Tosch, whose husband conducted a saloon opposite the factory, testified that she saw smoke coming from the factory chimney on the night of May 1, although the factory was supposed to have been shut down at the time.  
She also stated that Luetgert visited her on the following day and requested her to say nothing about the smoke as it would get him in trouble.  
Chas. Hengst stated that he was passing the factory about 10 p. m. on May 1, and heard a noise similar to that made by a person screaming.  
Chemist Carl Voelker testified that there was no occasion for caustic potash in a sausage factory.  
Mrs. Christina Feldt, a widow with whom the defendant had at one time been infatuated, testified that Luetgert often expressed his hatred for his wife and intimated that he would get rid of her.  
Dr. Chas. Gibson and Professor De la Fontaine testified that the masses of soft substance which had presumably boiled over the vat was flesh that had undergone burning by potash.  
Particles removed from the drain pipes leading from the vat were then produced and proven to be portions of human bones.  
Luetgert handled these exhibits in the most cold-blooded manner, and demonstrated that he was devoid of all feeling.  
Professor George Dorsey of the Field Columbian Museum, testified that one of the bones found in the pile of animal bones was the upper portion of the left thigh bone of a woman.  
During the trial, Chas. Winthers of 250 Orleans Street, was arrested for attempting to intimidate Mrs. Tosch, the witness who saw the smoke coming from the chimney in the sausage factory on the night of May 1.  
Captain Schuettler testified regarding the indifference exhibited by Luetgert as to the fate of his wife, and as to the result of his official investigations.  
The defense began on September 24, and several persons testified that since May 1 they had at different places seen a woman who resembled Mrs. Luetgert.  
It was the theory of the prosecution that Luetgert, tiring of his second wife, was anxious to get her out of the way so that he might marry Mary Seimmering, the family servant. On September 25, this girl testified for the defense and described Luetgert’s “kind treatment” toward his wife.  
She denied having been on intimate terms with Luetgert, although members of the grand jury were subsequently produced who swore that she had told them of her improper relations with the defendant.  
The defense then produced a number of experts for the purpose of offsetting the testimony given by experts for the prosecution.  
William Charles, Luetgert’s business partner, testified that the caustic potash was bought for the purpose of making soft soap, as they intended to clean the factory prior to turning it over to an English syndicate.  
To rebut this testimony, Deputy Sheriff Frank Moan swore that when he took possession of the place there were over 100 boxes of soap in stock, thus showing that there was sufficient on hand for cleaning purposes.  
On October 18, the case was submitted to the jury and after deliberating for sixty-six hours they failed to agree, nine favoring a conviction and three voting in favor of an acquittal.  
On November 29, 1897, the second trial began and Luetgert made an appeal to the public for financial assistance, but few people responded.  
On January 19, 1898, the defendant took the stand in his own behalf for the first time and the police experienced great difficulty in handling the crowd.  
The trial resulted in a conviction and on May 5 Luetgert was sent to the Joliet State prison for life.  
At 6 a. m. on the morning of July 27, 1899, Luetgert left his cell and returned shortly afterward with his breakfast in a pail, but just as he was about to eat it, he dropped dead from heart disease.  
After his death, Frank Pratt, a member of the Chicago bar, stated that he visited Joliet in February, 1898, to consult a client named Chris Merry, and being somewhat of a palmist he asked Luetgert if he wanted his “hand read.”  
The latter consented and Pratt told Luetgert that he possessed a violent temper and at times was not responsible for his actions. Pratt stated that Luetgert then virtually admitted that he killed his wife when he was possessed of the devil. Pratt is quoted as saying that he regarded this admission as a professional secret and therefore did not feel at liberty to divulge it until after the death of Luetgert.  
It is said that Luetgert also made similar admissions to a fellow prisoner.  


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The Knight Falls: The Murder of Mrs. Langfeldt, 1896, San Francisco.  
There is a great link to an 1896 article from The San Francisco Call about the case at the end of the article.  
San Francisco, 1896.  
Joseph Blanther was born in Rankerburg Steirmart, Austria, in 1859. When nineteen years of age he was made a Lieutenant in the Austrian army, and a few months later, on December 12, 1878, was knighted and decorated by Emperor Franz Josef for distinguished services in battle.  
Because of some peculiar transaction he retired from the army and left his native land. He arrived in San Francisco on February 2, 1896, and took up lodgings at the residence of Mr. Hogan, at 222 Haight Street. He was a liberal spender among the fair-weather friends he chanced to meet, and delighted to maintain a show of wealth.  
He had been living at the Hogan residence only a short while when he borrowed $15 from Miss Hogan, at the same time obtaining $9.70 from a Mrs. Gilbert, who lived in the same house. For security he gave both ladies worthless checks on the Columbia Bank.  
About this time he met Mr. C. H. Tebbs, a newspaper artist. Blanther, who had done some writing for Harper’s, and the Argonaut, and Tebbs, became quite friendly, and Blanther borrowed Tebbs’ camera. When the artist asked him to return it, Blanther made so many excuses that the Harry Morse Detective Agency was finally employed to recover it. Captain Cullenden was assigned to the case, and obtained a confession from Blanther to the effect that he had pawned the camera to a broker on Kearney Street, where it was subsequently recovered.  
As Blanther claimed that he was actually starving and was forced to raise the money, Tebbs declined to prosecute him.  
In 1896 an aged and decrepit old lady named Mrs. Philipini Langfeldt occupied a room at the residence of Dr. Kleineburg, at 1225 Geary Street. She, like Blanther, also loved to create the impression that she possessed much wealth, and almost constantly wore five very valuable rings set with diamonds and pearls.  
Blanther remained at the Hogan home but a short time, and after a brief trip to Portland took up his residence at the home of the widow of Detective James Handley, at 828 Geary Street, four blocks from the Langfeldt home.  
He learned of the “wealthy” old Langfeldt lady and obtained an introduction. Notwithstanding the great differences in their ages, he paid her marked attention and made a great display of his decorations, never missing an opportunity to tell of his hairbreadth escapes on the bloody battlefield, and incidentally to refer to the honors bestowed upon him by the Emperor.  
On Friday, May 15, 1896, Mrs. Langfeldt told Mrs. Kleineburg that she expected Mr. Blanther to call that evening.  
While no one saw Blanther enter the house, different members of the household heard some man laughing and talking with Mrs. Langfeldt in her apartments. This person arrived about 9 p. m., and Dr. Kleineburg heard him leave at 11:10 p.m.  
At 9 a. m. on the following morning a domestic servant in the house named Susie Miller took a cup of coffee to Mrs. Langfeldt’s room, but as she received no response to her knocks at the door she notified Dr. Kleineburg.  
Officer Thomas Atchison was called and he broke in the door. In the middle of the floor was the body of the old lady, her head almost severed from the body, evidently by a razor. As might be imagined, everything near the body was saturated with blood.  
Captain of Detectives Lees was called and he found drops of blood in remote corners of the room, which convinced him that the assassin had probably cut one of his hands in cutting the old lady’s throat. The five rings which she wore were stripped from her fingers, and the apartments were rifled. Suspicion at once fell on Blanther.  
Mrs. Handley, his landlady, was visited, and she stated that Blanther arrived home on the preceding evening at 11:20, ten minutes after Dr. Kleineburg heard Mrs. Langfeldt’s visitor leave. She stated that he went to the bathroom, and while she heard him leave the house on the following morning at 6 o’clock, an unusually early hour, he did not sleep in his bed during the night.  
J. E. Lynch, a roomer in the same house, stated that he saw Blanther leave the bathroom about 11:30 on the preceding night, just as he entered it, and noticing crimsoned water in the bottom and on the sides of the basin he concluded that Blanther had a “nose bleed” or had cut his hand.  
Architect George Dodge came forward and made a statement substantially as follows:  
“I became acquainted with Blanther when he resided at Mr. Hogan’s home on Haight Street. I saw him on Friday evening, the night of the murder, and he was despondent. He informed me that he had just pawned his overcoat, and if he did not get some money somewhere he would commit suicide.  
“When he left me at 8:15 p. m. he told me that he was going to visit a friend on Geary Street.  
“On the following morning he appeared at my office at 9 o’clock, an unusually early hour, and pretended to be in high spirits. He seldom wore gloves, but on this morning he wore a maroon colored glove on his left hand, even while rolling a cigarette.  
“Many weeks ago Blanther told me that while at the racetrack one day he met a lady named Mrs. Genevieve Marks, who resided with a Mrs. King, at 427 O’Farrell Street. He said that this lady had valuable diamonds upon which she desired to borrow some money, and he asked me if I could procure a loan on them. I replied that I thought I could, but that I would require a written authorization from Mrs. Marks.  
“On Saturday morning he delivered two unset diamonds to me with the following note:  
‘Mr. J. Blanther: I hereby authorize you to borrow money on collateral security given to you by me, consisting of diamonds.   — GENEVIEVE MARKS.’  
“After reading the letter of authorization I felt reassured and returned it to Blanther. I then went with Blanther to a money lender named Henry Lacey, who loaned me $100 on the stones.  
“Blanther did not enter Lacey’s office, but remained outside. As I had business in Alameda, and as Blanther told me that he was going to Oakland, thence to San Jose to meet Mrs. Marks, we rode across the bay together.  
“As he pulled out several cigars during the morning I playfully opened his coat and looking at the pocket where the cigars were kept, I laughingly said : ‘You must have beat the slot machines.’ When I opened his coat I noticed a razor in the pocket with the cigars. I now recall that Blanther did not appreciate my little joke.  
“He left the local train at Seventh and Broadway streets, and said he would see me the next evening.”  
Mrs. Marks made a statement substantially as follows :  
“It is true that I know Blanther, and he called at my home many times. I have several diamonds, and Blanther annoyed me with the interest he took in them and the questions he asked regarding their value.  
“The man became obnoxious to me, so I suggested to him that it would be better if he ceased to call, and I notified Mrs. King, my landlady, that thereafter I was not at home if Mr. Blanther called.  
“I have not seen him for weeks, and yesterday, the day I was alleged to have made an appointment for a meeting at San Jose, I was sick in bed at home.  
“I never asked Blanther to hypothecate any diamonds for me nor did he ever have any of my jewelry in his possession.”  
Mrs. King, when questioned, corroborated Mrs. Marks’ statement.  
Henry Lacey, the money lender, was interrogated, and he produced the diamonds received by him from Mr. Dodge.  
Mrs. Kleineburg identified them as being exactly the same as those in Mrs. Langfeldt’s rings.  
Francis Korbel, the Austrian Consul, was called in to examine Blanther’s medals, decorations and papers, and he stated that they were undoubtedly genuine and added that Blanther was not only an officer in the Austrian army, but a Knight in several imperial orders.  
Captain Lees had positive information that Blanther boarded train No. 19, bound for Los Angeles, which left Sixteenth Street, Oakland, at 5:30 p. m., on the day the body was found. Blanther purchased a ticket to Martinez on the train, but when he reached Port Costa he purchased a ticket to Los Angeles, and continued his journey on the same train. He attracted general attention because of the fact that he wore maroon colored gloves at all times, even when eating his meals.  
Captain Lees telegraphed to the Los Angeles authorities to apprehend him at the train, but through some misunderstanding the officer arrived ten minutes too late.  
It was subsequently learned that Blanther procured the ticket under the name of Forbes.  
Captain Lees then decided to flood the country with circulars containing a picture of Blanther, but only two pictures of the fugitive could be found. One was taken in his military regalia when he was scarcely a man, and while the other picture, which was unmounted, had been a good likeness, it had faded so that it was useless for copying purposes. It was turned over to Theodore Kytka, the handwriting expert, who observed that it was printed on solio paper. As this kind of paper had only been in use for this purpose for two years, it was easy to conclude that the picture had been taken within that time. Because of the modeling of the shadows on the face, Kytka concluded that it was printed in some well-equipped gallery. He obtained Captain Lees’ consent to communicate with the police departments and the Pinkerton agencies throughout America, who were requested to visit all photograph galleries and ascertain if Blanther or “Forbes” had within the last two years sat for a picture, and if so to procure the negative.  
The Pinkerton agency located the negative in Brand’s....

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Psycho-Sexual Killer Theodore Durrant, 1895, part 2.    
.....This caused a search to be made for Durrant at his home, but it was learned that early on the morning of the discovery of Minnie Williams’ body, he had left the city with the Signal Corps of the State Militia.   
A search was made of his clothing in his room, and Minnie Williams’ purse was found in his overcoat. Detective A. Anthony was detailed to trail Durrant and arrest him, and on Sunday, April 14, Anthony and Constable Palmer arrested him near Walnut Creek, notwithstanding the indignant protest made by Lieutenant Perkins against this “outrageous accusation.”  
While Anthony was engaged in apprehending Durrant, the remainder of the detective force began a systematic search of the church, with the result that they found even a more blood-curdling sight in the belfry than that beheld by the ladies in the library.  
This belfry was in semi-darkness, but enough light entered for the detectives to behold what appeared like a marble carving of an absolutely nude girl lying on the floor, with a block of wood under her head. She was laid out on her back after death with her hands carefully crossed over her breast, in a position similar to that of bodies used by medical students in the dissecting room. A far more thorough search was necessary to locate her clothes and school-books, but they were eventually found poked in between the studs and the lath and plaster of the building. Blanche Lamont’s name appeared in the books.  
An autopsy disclosed the fact that she died from strangulation but decomposition had reached such a state that it was impossible to determine if an outrage had been committed. While the body was as white as marble as it lay in the cool belfry, when it was removed to the body of the church, where the air was much warmer, it turned almost jet black.  
Notwithstanding the overwhelming amount of evidence, which proved conclusively that Durrant accompanied Miss Lamont from the school to Emanuel Baptist Church, he denied having seen her that day and attempted to prove an alibi by swearing that he was at Cooper Medical College at the time it was alleged he was in the very act of murdering this girl.  
While it is true that the records showed that some one answered his name at roll call at the conclusion of Dr. Cheney’s lecture, it was shown that it was customary for the students to answer for each other in case of absence, and no one would swear that Durrant was present at this lecture. As proof that he was not present, it was shown that several days afterward he persuaded a fellow student, Mr. Glaser, to give him the notes that he, Glaser, had taken at the lecture.  
As soon as the finger of suspicion was pointed toward Durrant, information poured in to Captain Lees, proving that the prisoner was a degenerate of the most depraved class. For obvious reasons, names cannot be given of young ladies to whom he made the most disgusting propositions, and the wonder of it is that he was not killed, or at ,least exposed before. But in most instances the nature of his insults were such that the young ladies offended feared to inform their relatives, lest they would take the law in their own hands. One young lady told her mother that some time previous to these murders, Durrant had inveigled her into this same library and excusing himself for a moment, returned stark naked and she ran screaming from the church.  
Although Minnie Williams was frightfully butchered and the room resembled a slaughter-house, not one drop of blood could be found on Durrant’s clothes, and there is no doubt but that he was naked when he committed this crime. He probably strangled Blanche Lamont in the library and then dragged her body up to the belfry, head first. That this was the manner in which he got her body to the place where it was found was proven by the finding of hairs from her head which caught in splinters on the steps.  
Durrant also attempted to inveigle Miss Lucille Turner into this library for the purpose of making a “physical examination.”  
The preliminary examination of Durrant began before Police Judge Charles Conlon on April 22, 1895. He was de-fended by General John Dickenson, and later by Eugene Duprey. On May 22 he was held to answer before the Superior Court for both murders. Captain Lees and District Attorney William Barnes decided to try him for the murder of Blanche Lamont, as that appeared at the time to be the strongest case, but subsequently additional evidence was gathered which made the Minnie Williams case even stronger than the one on which he was tried.  
His trial began before Judge Murphy on July 22, 1895, and over one month was occupied in selecting a jury, during which time over one thousand prospective jurors appeared in court.  
During the trial the Alcazar Theater Company produced a play called the “Criminal of the Century,” which was a dramatization of the Durrant murders. This was produced in defiance of an order of court prohibiting its production, and as a result W. R. Daily, the manager, was sent to jail for three days for contempt of court.  
During Durrant’s trial fifty witnesses testified for the prosecution alone. On September 24 the case was finally submitted to the jury, and after deliberating five minutes, brought in a verdict of guilty with the death penalty attached.  
The case was appealed to the Supreme Court, which affirmed the decision of the lower court on April 3, 1897. The day of execution was then set for June 11, 1897.  
At this stage of the proceedings, Governor James Budd was appealed to, and after making an extensive personal investigation, he concluded that Durrant was guilty and refused to interfere.  
On April 10, 1897, he was taken to San Quentin, and another appeal taken which was denied.  
On January 7, 1898, he was hanged.  
He protested his innocence to the last and was one of the coolest murderers who ever mounted the scaffold. When Warden Hale started to read the death warrant to him he said: “I will waive that right and spare you an unpleasant duty.”  
The parents took charge of the body immediately after the execution, and as they feared grave-robbers, they attempted to have the body cremated, but no crematory in San Francisco would accept the corpse, so strong was the public sentiment. A Los Angeles firm accepted it, however, and it was cremated in that city on January 13, 1898.  
In nearly all cases when a celebrated criminal is captured, a certain class of women take advantage of the opportunity to leap into the lime-light by showering him with attentions, and the more atrocious and depraved the criminal, the more these women appear in evidence. This case was no exception to the rule, and as soon as the trial began a young woman of prepossessing appearance became a constant attendant and almost daily presented Durrant with testimonials of her sympathy in the shape of small bunches of sweet peas, which accounted for her being known as the “Sweet Pea Girl.” Durrant did not know the girl, but with characteristic mendacity, he claimed that she was a friend who had positive knowledge of his innocence, but he was too “chivalrous” to divulge her identity.  
It subsequently transpired that she was Mrs. Rosalind Bowers, and was even then neglecting her young husband to worship at the shrine of this degenerate. She afterwards lived in a Sutter-street house under the name of “Grace King,” and was accused of inveigling a wealthy clubman named Edward Clarke into a marriage while he was under the influence of liquor.  
The author has a photograph taken of Durrant at a picnic when he was only sixteen years of age, and the position in which he posed proves conclusively that he was a degenerate even as a child.  
Shortly before these crimes were committed, Durrant’s sister Maude went to Europe to study music. Fourteen years later it was learned that “Maude Allen,” who was creating a sensation in Europe with the “Vision of Salome” dance, was in reality Maude Durrant.  
Note: According to San Francisco historian Herbert Asbury, Durrant was known to San Francisco prostitutes at the time for a strange fetish. “For a year or so during the early eighteen-nineties Durrant visited the brothels in San Francisco’s Commercial Street several times a week. He always brought with him, in a sack or a small crate, a pigeon or a chicken, and at a certain time during the evening’s debauch he cut the bird’s throat and let the blood trickle over his body.”  


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Psycho-Sexual Killer Theodore Durrant, 1895, part 1.    
Theodore Durrant was born in Toronto, Canada, in 1871, and while a child came to San Francisco with his parents, who gave him a good education. In 1895 he was a medical student at Cooper Medical College. He pretended to be a devout Christian and was one of the most active members of Emanuel Baptist Church, which is located on Bartlett, near Twenty-Third Street. The younger members of this church organized a society for social purposes, and Durrant was elected Secretary, and was also a Superintendent in the Sunday-school. In 1894 a most estimable young lady, named Blanche Lamont, left her home in Dillon, Mont., because of poor health and came to San Francisco to continue her studies for the purpose of eventually following the vocation of a school-teacher. 
She made her home with her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. C. G. Noble, at 209 Twenty-First Street, where her sister, Maud, also resided. Blanche was a very religious girl and seldom went to places of amusement, but when she did she was usually accompanied by her relatives. She always attended the Emanuel Baptist Church and was a member of the Christian Endeavor, where she was a great favorite, because of her lovable disposition and good qualities.  
On the morning of April 3, 1895, Miss Lamont left home as usual to attend the Boys’ High School, in which building she was taking a course at that time. While en route to this school she was accompanied by Durrant, who, after leaving her, went to the Cooper Medical College. After Miss Lamont finished her studies at this school she repaired to the Normal School on Powell Street, between Clay and Sacramento, where she was to take instructions in cooking, between 2 and 3 p. m.  
Shortly after 2 o’clock Durrant appeared in front of this school and waited impatiently until nearly 3 p. m., when Miss Lamont came out of the building accompanied by a classmate named Minnie Edwards. Durrant approached and engaged Miss Lamont in conversation. Miss Edwards continued to the corner and got inside of the next southbound Powell street car and saw Durrant and Miss Lamont take seats on the dummy, Miss Lamont having her school books with her. Two other classmates of Miss Lamont, Miss Lanagan and Miss Pleasant, who were walking home, also saw her sitting on the dummy with Durrant.  
On this day some street-pavers were re-laying some old-fashioned paving at Twenty-Second and Bartlett Streets, and as Attorney Martin Quinlan was passing this place curiosity prompted him to stop and watch the re-laying of this almost obsolete style of paving. While so doing, Theodore Durrant, whom he knew well, passed with a young lady of the same general appearance of Miss Lamont.  
They were then walking in the direction of the Emanuel Baptist Church, a few hundred feet distant. Quinlan fixed the time as about 4:15 p. m., because of an appointment he was about to keep with a Mr. Clark on Mission street.  
Diagonally across the street from this church, at 124 Bartlett Street, lived a Mrs. Leake, who had a married daughter named Mrs. Maguire, whose home was in San Mateo. On this date the daughter came to San Francisco, called on her mother and then went downtown to do some shopping, informing her mother that she would be back in the early afternoon.  
As it was growing late the mother became uneasy about her daughter and sat in the window eagerly awaiting her return. At seventeen minutes past four she looked at the clock and then returned to the window, but instead of seeing her daughter approach she saw Durrant, whom she knew well as a member of her church, and a young lady of Miss Lamont’s general appearance walk up to the church, where Durrant opened the side gate and followed the young lady inside. This was the last seen of Blanche Lamont.  
About 5 p. m. George King, the church organist, came to the church for the purpose of practicing for the next service. He had hardly begun his practice when Durrant opened the door leading down from the belfry. Durrant and King had been close friends, and King stated that when Durrant opened this door he was very pale, nervous and weak and was without a coat and hat. He stated that Durrant explained his weakened condition by saying that he had been up near the roof, trying to locate a leak in the gaspipe and had been overcome by gas. King ran to a drug store near Valencia and Twenty-Second Streets and returned with a bottle of bromo-seltzer, which Durrant drank.  
When he claimed that he had recovered, King asked him to assist in carrying a small organ from the auditorium upstairs down to the main floor.  Durrant consented, but King stated that he detected no odor of gas whatever while upstairs, and furthermore that all the gas fixtures had been inspected by plumbers just previous to this time and were in good condition. Shortly after removing the organ the two men left the church, Durrant walking to King’s home with him, although Durrant’s home was in an opposite direction and he claimed to be feeling weak because of his alleged narrow escape from gas asphyxiation.  
That night a prayer meeting was held at the church. Blanche Lamont, not having returned home, caused her aunt, Mrs. Noble, to worry greatly. Thinking Blanche might possibly have gone to the home of some friend, and would, as usual, attend the prayer meeting, Mrs. Noble also attended the meeting in hopes of seeing her niece. The lady was almost distracted, but refrained from telling of Blanche’s disappearance, believing that the girl would return. Durrant had a seat just in the rear of Mrs. Noble, and during the services said to her: “Is Blanche here to-night?” Mrs. Noble replied: “No, she did not come.”  
Durrant then said: “Well, I regret that she is not with us to-night, as I have a book called ‘The Newcombs,’ for her, but I will send it to the house.”  
After a few days of suspense Mrs. Noble could stand the strain no longer and she communicated the mysterious disappearance of her niece to the police and the press. As Durrant was “above suspicion,” no one considered it worthwhile to mention the fact that they had seen her in his company on the day of her disappearance. Durrant called on Mrs. Noble and offered his services in the search for the lost girl, and subsequently intimated to Mrs. Noble and a fellow student named Herman Slagater that he had received information which caused him to arrive at the conclusion that Blanche Lamont had not departed from this life, but worse: she had departed from the life of morality, and was even then in a house of ill repute from which he would endeavor to persuade her to return to the path of righteousness.  
A few days after making this statement, the church janitor saw Durrant at the Oakland Ferry landing and asked him what he was doing there. Durrant replied that he was working on a clew he had obtained as to Blanche Lamont’s whereabouts.  
At the time of Miss Lamont’s disappearance she had three rings in her possession, and on April 13 the postman delivered to Mrs. Noble an Examiner, wrapped in the usual fashion for the mail, and upon opening it, the three rings which Blanche Lamont wore fell out.  
Subsequently, Adolph Oppenheimer, who conducted a pawn shop at 405 Dupont Street, identified Durrant as the man who attempted to sell one of these rings to him, between the 4th and 10th of April.  
On April 12, an estimable young lady named Minnie Williams, left the home of C. H. Morgan in Alameda, and as she was about to leave his employ she had her trunk sent to the residence of Mrs. Amelia Voy at 1707 Howard street, in this city. Miss Williams was also a member of the Emanuel Baptist Church and on this very day she announced to the Morgan’s that she contemplated attending a meeting of young church members to be held at the home of a dentist named Dr. T. A. Vogel, at 7:30 that evening.  
The girl never appeared there, and Durrant, who was secretary of the society and should have been prompt in attendance, did not arrive until 9:30 p. m., and his excited and overheated appearance was a matter of general comment among those present. The meeting adjourned at 11:25 p. m. and the young folks repaired to their homes with the exception of Durrant, who, for reasons best known to himself, went to Emanuel Baptist Church at this midnight hour.  
April 13, the day Mrs. Noble received her niece’s rings, was the Saturday preceding Easter Sunday, and the Christian ladies proceeded to this church laden with flowers to suitably decorate in honor of the greatest anniversary of the Christian year.  
Mrs. Nolt, of 910 Twenty-First Street, accompanied by Misses Minnie Lord and Katie Stevens, were among the first to arrive, and in the library they found the horribly mutilated remains of Minnie Williams. Her clothing was partially torn from her body and she had been repeatedly stabbed, then gagged and outraged. Some of her torn clothing had been stuffed down her throat so tightly that it required considerable effort to remove it. A broken knife blade was still in her breast.  
The police immediately instituted an investigation and Captain Lees, who was at the time in Los Angeles, proceeded to San Francisco to take charge of the case, assisted by Detectives John Seymour, Ed. Gibson and others.  
Charles Hill, of 203 1/2 Bartlett street, stated that about 8 o’clock on the preceding night he had observed a young lady of Miss Williams’ appearance enter the church in company with a young man whom he thought was Theodore Durrant. This caused a search to be made for Durrant at his home, but it was learned that early on the morning of the discovery of Minnie Williams’ body, he had left the city with the Signal Corps of the State Militia.   


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The Sensational Murder of Alexander Crittenden by his Mistress, Laura D. Fair, 1870.  
Alexander Crittenden was born in Lexington, Ky., on, January 14, 1816. Andrew Jackson was a close friend of his family, and it was through Jackson’s influence that Alexander was sent to West Point. He graduated from this military college with Sherman and remained in the army about one year. At the age of twenty-two he married and went to Texas, where he was admitted to the bar. In 1852 he came to San Francisco and associated himself with S. M. Wilson. Under the firm name of Crittenden & Wilson, they became one of the most prominent law firms in San Francisco.  
Laura D. Fair was a native of Mississippi, and at the age of sixteen she married a man named Stone, who died about one year afterward. She then married a Thomas Gracien of New Orleans, but a divorce was obtained six months afterward. In 1859 she married Colonel W. B. Fair, who was at that time Sheriff of Shasta County, California, but who subsequently moved to San Francisco with his wife. Owing to family troubles he committed suicide in December, 1861. After the death of her husband, Mrs. Fair conducted the Tahoe House in Virginia City.  
During the war her sympathies were with the South to such an extent that she took a shot at a Northern soldier, but as her aim was very bad she was never punished for her action. On another occasion she shot a man at the Russ House in San Francisco, whom she claimed had made a disparaging remark concerning her, but again her aim was bad and again she escaped prosecution.  
Mrs. Fair had some ability as an actress and appeared at the Metropolitan Theatre in Sacramento on March 5, 1863, as Lady Teazle in the “School for Scandal.” In August, 1870, a young man named Jesse Snyder married her, but on October 8 of the same year they were divorced.  
In September, 1870, Crittenden sent his wife and seven children East for a pleasure trip, and on the afternoon of November 3 he went to Oakland to greet them on their return. He met his family at the Oakland pier and accompanied them aboard the ferry El Capitan. From the time of the family reunion, Mr. Crittenden’s son, Parker, noticed a woman dressed in black and heavily veiled, who seemed to be watching their actions very closely, and when the family were seated on the boat she hurried toward them and suddenly whipping out a pistol, shot Crittenden Senior in the chest. The wounded man fell unconscious and the woman hurried away and took a seat, but Captain Kentzel of the Harbor Police, who was on the boat at the time, disarmed her and placed her under arrest. It was subsequently learned that she was Mrs. Laura D. Fair. Immediately after being arrested she began to act in a peculiar manner, and when a stimulant was handed to her in a glass of water, she bit a piece out of the glass.  
At 6 p. m., November 5, Crittenden died, and on the day of his funeral the Federal, State and municipal courts adjourned. His funeral was one of the largest ever held in San Francisco up to that time.  
Mrs. Fair was charged with murder, and during the trial, which occurred in San Francisco, she testified that she and Crittenden had been intimate for seven years past. The defense offered was that Crittenden’s perfidities had wrought havoc with Mrs. Fair’s mind and that she was in a blind frenzy when she shot him.  
On April 26, 1871, the jury after a short deliberation brought in a verdict of guilty of murder, and on June 3, 1871, Mrs. Fair was sentenced to be hanged on July 28.  
On July 11 the Supreme Court granted her a stay of execution and finally granted her a new trial, at which she was acquitted, because of her attorney’s plea to the jury that the defendant was a victim of emotional insanity.  
For many years after her acquittal Mrs. Fair made a living as a book agent in San Francisco.   


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Dying for Survival on the SS William Brown, Atlantic Ocean, 1841.  
On March 13, 1841, the American ship William Brown left Liverpool for Philadelphia. In addition to a large cargo, the vessel carried sixty-five passengers and a crew of seventeen men.  
At 10 p. m. on Monday, April 19, when two hundred and fifty miles from Cape Race, Newfoundland, the vessel struck an iceberg and began to fill so rapidly that it was evident she would soon go down.  
The “long boat” and “jolly boat” were then cleared away and lowered. The captain, second mate, seven of the crew and one passenger entered the jolly boat, and the first mate, thirty-two passengers and the remainder of the crew entered the long boat.  
Thirty-one passengers were left on the ship, and they all begged the captain and mate to take them into the lifeboats, but the first mate replied: “Poor souls, you’re only going down a short time before we do.”  
One hour later the ship went to the bottom and the thirty-one passengers perished.  
The two lifeboats remained together during the night, but at daybreak the captain decided to take his boat in another direction, but before leaving the long boat he instructed all on board to obey the first mate’s orders.  
The first mate then informed the captain that his boat was leaking badly, and that it would soon be necessary to cast lots to determine who should be thrown overboard.  
The captain replied: “Let that be the last resort.”  
During Tuesday [April 20, 1841] the rain came down in torrents. The long boat was in constant danger of being struck by floating ice. The sea grew heavier and the passengers, many of whom were attired in their nightclothes, suffered intensely from the cold weather.  
The men took turns at rowing and baling out the boat, while the terror-stricken women huddled together in an effort to keep warm.  
At 10 o’clock Tuesday night the men were completely exhausted from exposure, exertion and lack of nourishment. Finally the mate, who observed that the boat was slowly filling with water, cried out in despair: “This work won’t do. Help me, God! Men, go to work, the boat is sinking.”  
The women passengers became hysterical and many were down on their knees offering up prayers.  
The first mate then said: “Men, you must go to work or we shall all perish.”  
They “went to work” and threw fourteen passengers overboard, but the crew was not molested.  
The first four men to be thrown overboard were named Riley, Duffy, Charles Conlin and Frank Askin. The latter’s two sisters were in the boat, and they pleaded for their brother’s life, but all in vain.  
The next two to go overboard were Askin’s sisters, but the evidence is conflicting as to whether they were thrown overboard or whether their sacrifice was an act of self-devotion to their brother. It was admitted that when Sailor Holmes seized their brother, the sisters expressed a wish to follow him.  
Askin struggled violently, and the fact that the boat was not upset in the struggle was used against Holmes afterward to prove the improbability of its capsizing.  
The “work” continued until fourteen men were forced into a watery grave. Many asked for and were granted time to offer up a prayer before being cast into the sea.  
On Wednesday morning the weather cleared up and the ship Crescent was sighted by the occupants of the long boat. The shipwrecked people were rescued and brought to Philadelphia.  
After six days of indescribable suffering, the captain and his party were picked up by a French fishing boat.  
When some of the passengers finally reached their destination of Philadelphia, they filed a complaint with the District Attorney. Sailor Alexander Holmes was the only crewman to be found in the city, so he was the only one charged. He was accused of murdering Frank Askin. A grand jury refused to indict him on that charge, so it was reduced to manslaughter. Holmes was prosecuted under an act of April 30, 1790, which provided:  
“Any seaman who shall commit manslaughter upon the high seas, on conviction shall be imprisoned not exceeding three years and a fine not exceeding one thousand dollars.” Holmes was charged with the unlawful, but not malicious, killing of Askin.  
During the trial, it was proven that he was the last man to leave the wrecked ship, and, when he entered the long boat, he found a widowed mother crying for her sick daughter, Isabelle, who had been inadvertently left on the doomed ship. Holmes immediately climbed up the ship’s side and, at great peril to his life, ran astern, located the sick girl, and placing her over his shoulder climbed down the ship’s side and restored her to her mother.  
With the exception of a shirt and trousers, he gave all of his clothing to the women in the boat and uttered words of encouragement to the remainder of the passengers and crew.  
It was proven that the first mate lost courage and turned the command of the boat over to Holmes, who immediately changed the course, thus enabling him to sight the ship Crescent.  
Holmes’ defense was that the homicide was necessary for self-protection and for the protection of the lives that were spared.  
The prosecution claimed that the circumstances did not justify the action taken; that many of the persons thrown overboard struggled violently and, as the boat did not capsize then, there was little chance of it occurring under any of the other conditions then existing.  
The court ruled that: “Extreme peril is not enough to justify a sacrifice such as this was, nor would even the certainty of death be enough, if death were yet prospective. It must be instant.  
“The sailor is bound to undergo whatever hazard is necessary to preserve the boat and passengers, even to the extent of sacrificing his life.  
“While it is admitted that sailor and sailor may lawfully struggle with each other for the plank which can save but one, we think that, if the passenger is on the plank, even ‘the law of necessity’ justifies not the sailor who takes it from him.”  
The jury deliberated sixteen hours and then returned a verdict of guilty with a recommendation for mercy.  
The defendant was sentenced to six months in the Eastern Pennsylvania Penitentiary and a fine of $20, but the penalty was subsequently remitted. 


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