187: Globe, Arizona: The Curse of Room 18—Two Miners, One Deadly Room

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On July 3, 1929, U.S. Deputy Marshal Jim Martinez scaled the walls of a fortress-like mansion in the heart of Taos, New Mexico. What he found inside would spark one of the American Southwest's most enduring mysteries—a bloated, headless corpse dressed in the unmistakable clothing of Arthur Rochford Manby, the 70-year-old English con man whom locals considered the most hated person in town.

The hastily convened coroner's jury reached a swift conclusion: natural causes. The severed head, they reasoned, was the work of Manby's starving German police dog. The body was buried that same afternoon in a shallow grave behind the mansion.

Then the witnesses started coming forward. Within days, a dozen credible Taos residents—including prominent artists and businesspeople—reported seeing Arthur Manby alive on July 4th and 5th, a full day after his supposed death and burial. When authorities finally examined the remains more closely, they discovered the head had been severed by a sharp blade, not animal teeth.

Was it murder? Or had the master swindler orchestrated his greatest con—faking his own death to escape decades of enemies and debt?

Timeline of Events

The Manby mystery spans four decades of fraud and violence in New Mexico Territory.

1883—Twenty-four-year-old Arthur Rochford Manby arrives in New Mexico Territory from England, fleeing financial scandals.

1894—Manby begins systematically acquiring interests in the Antonio Martinez Land Grant, a 61,000-acre Spanish colonial holding.

1913—After nearly two decades of manipulation, Manby claims ownership of virtually the entire Martinez Grant.

Late June 1929—Manby disappears from public view. Mail piles up.

July 3, 1929—Deputy Marshal Jim Martinez discovers the headless body. Coroner's jury rules natural causes. Body buried same day.

July 4-5, 1929—Multiple credible witnesses report seeing Manby alive in Taos.

1933—Body exhumed for second examination; forensic experts confirm decapitation was by blade, not animal.

Historical Significance

The Manby case embodies the lawlessness that defined New Mexico's territorial era and the exploitation of Hispanic land grant communities that resonates today. For thirty years, Manby operated within a system that allowed wealthy, connected men to systematically strip generational landowners of their property through legal manipulation. His connections to the "Santa Fe Ring"—a corrupt network of lawyers, judges, and politicians—enabled him to acquire enormous land holdings while avoiding consequences.

Today, the Manby mansion site houses the Taos Center for the Arts. The communities he terrorized never received justice, regardless of whether Manby died in that fortress or escaped to live out his days elsewhere. New Mexico authorities have never officially closed the case.

Sources: Frank Waters, To Possess the Land: A Biography of Arthur Rochford Manby (Swallow Press, 1973); James S. Peters, Headless in Taos; New Mexico State Records Center and Archives (59 folders of Manby case files); Taos News historical coverage.

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On September 5th, 1889, George Gould walked up the path to the Cutler farm in East Montpelier, Vermont, with his new wife Laura. They had been married for barely fourteen hours. By noon, George would be dead—shot in the face at point-blank range by a man who had waited twenty-two years for his chance.

The murder of George Gould sparked one of the strangest legal cases in Vermont history. What began as a simple crime of passion became a decades-long tragedy involving a scandalous courtroom confession, a wedding performed through prison bars, and a woman who could never escape the name of her husband's killer.

Timeline of Events:

- 1867 – Sherman Caswell begins working at the Cutler farm after returning from Civil War service

- September 4, 1889 – Laura Cutler and George Gould marry

- September 5, 1889 – Sherman Caswell shoots George Gould from an upstairs window

- March 1890 – Caswell convicted of second-degree murder, sentenced to life

- April 1890 – Laura marries Caswell through prison bars

- 1902 – Sherman Caswell pardoned after twelve years

- April 2, 1911 – Laura dies; death certificate lists her name as Laura Caswell

Sources: The Argus and Patriot newspaper (Montpelier, VT), Vermont Historical Society, VTDigger "Then Again" column.

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In 1889, the Montana frontier witnessed a cold-blooded betrayal when a trusted hunting guide turned killer. What began as an expedition into the wilderness ended in murder when greed overcame loyalty. The guide who was supposed to lead them to game instead led them to their graves. This is the story of trust broken, justice pursued, and the harsh realities of life in the untamed West.

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On April 22, 1920, someone entered a farmhouse three miles north of Turtle Lake, North Dakota, armed with a shotgun and a hatchet. By morning, eight people lay dead—seven members of the Wolf family and their teenage hired hand. Only eight-month-old Emma Wolf survived, left crying in her crib for two days while her family's bodies grew cold around her.

The Wolf family were German-Russian immigrants, part of a wave of settlers who had fled Tsarist oppression to build new lives on the Great Plains. Jacob Wolf had carved out a decent living on his quarter-section of land—fifty sheep, a two-story house, a wife named Beata, and seven daughters. They worshipped in German, kept to themselves, and measured success by how much land they could pass to the next generation.

Within twenty-four hours of the bodies being discovered, investigators focused on Henry Layer, a German-Russian neighbor who had been feuding with Jacob Wolf over a property dispute. What followed was called "the third degree"—prolonged interrogation involving sleep deprivation, physical abuse, and psychological pressure. After an all-night session, Layer confessed. But the confession would prove deeply problematic.

This episode examines one of North Dakota's darkest chapters: a case where the need for answers may have outweighed the pursuit of truth, where a tortured confession was accepted despite contradicting physical evidence, and where questions about what really happened that night have persisted for over a century.

Timeline of Events

The Wolf family murders represent one of the most brutal crimes in North Dakota history, occurring during a period when German-American communities faced intense scrutiny following World War I. Understanding the timeline reveals the troubling speed with which Layer was identified, interrogated, and convicted.

• April 22, 1920: The murders occur at the Wolf farmstead north of Turtle Lake
• April 24, 1920: Neighbor discovers the crime scene; eight-month-old Emma found alive after two days alone
• April 25, 1920: Henry Layer brought in for interrogation; confesses after all-night "third degree" questioning
• April 28, 1920: Mass funeral held at the Wolf farm; eight victims buried together
• May 1920: Layer's trial lasts three days; jury deliberates six hours before guilty verdict
• 1922: Layer's wife divorces him; North Dakota Supreme Court denies appeal
• June 1925: Layer dies in prison from appendicitis complications, maintaining questions about his sole guilt

Historical Significance

The Wolf family case illuminates troubling aspects of early twentieth-century American justice—particularly the widespread acceptance of coerced confessions as legitimate evidence. The "third degree" was standard police practice nationwide in 1920, with officers routinely using physical and psychological pressure to obtain confessions. Layer's interrogation, which left visible bruising and lasted through the night, was considered normal procedure.

The case also reflects the vulnerability of immigrant communities during periods of heightened nativism. German-Americans had faced persecution during World War I—lynchings, forced loyalty oaths, and bans on German-language schools. The German-Russian settlers around Turtle Lake knew what happened when communities became targets. Their need for closure, for someone to blame, may have contributed to accepting a confession that didn't fit the physical evidence.

Modern forensic analysis has raised serious questions about Layer's guilt. The angle of shotgun wounds suggested a shooter taller than Layer's five-foot-six frame. Blood spatter patterns indicated multiple attackers. The physical labor of moving six bodies was likely impossible for one person in the timeframe described. Boot prints at the scene didn't match Layer's footwear. Yet in 1920, a signed confession trumped forensic inconsistencies.

Emma Wolf, the sole survivor, was adopted by relatives and lived until 2003. She carried the weight of being "the Wolf girl" her entire life—a living reminder of a tragedy that shattered a community and left questions that may never be answered.

Sources & Further Reading

The Wolf family murders have been extensively documented through court records, newspaper archives, and historical research. Vernon Keel, a journalist who grew up near Turtle Lake, wrote "The Murdered Family," a work of historical fiction that reconstructs events based on legal records and family accounts.

• Prairie Public Broadcasting — "Death of Henry Layer" (Dakota Datebook series) provides verified historical timeline
• State Historical Society of North Dakota — Maintains archival photographs and court documents from the 1920 trial
• McLean County Museum (Washburn, ND) — Houses newspaper clippings and physical artifacts from the case
• "The Turtle Lake Murders" podcast by Forum Communications — Four-part investigation featuring interviews with Emma Wolf Hanson's son Curtis and forensic analysis

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On July 5, 1943, just hours after Fourth of July celebrations had ended, the residents of Boise City, Oklahoma woke to the sound of explosions. Bombs were falling from the sky, and in the chaos, terrified citizens assumed the worst—that America was under attack. What they didn't know was that the bombs raining down on their tiny Panhandle town weren't coming from Germany or Japan. They were coming from the United States Army.

A B-17 Flying Fortress crew from Dalhart Army Air Base in Texas had departed on a routine night training mission, headed for a practice bombing range in nearby Conlen, Texas. But the navigator, Second Lieutenant John M. Daly, got catastrophically lost. In the darkness of the Oklahoma Panhandle, he spotted four lights arranged in a pattern and assumed he'd found his target. He was 43 miles off course. Those lights belonged to the Cimarron County courthouse square.

Over the next thirty minutes, six 100-pound practice bombs fell on Boise City—the only time in American history that the continental United States was bombed by its own military forces. The bombs struck near a garage, a Baptist church, and several locations around the town square. And yet, miraculously, not a single person was killed or seriously injured.

This is the story of an extraordinary night in a tiny Oklahoma town—a story of wartime confusion, terrified civilians, and a community that responded to catastrophe with something America often forgets is possible: grace.

Section 2: Timeline of Events

The accidental bombing of Boise City occurred during a pivotal year of World War II, when military training operations had transformed the American Southwest into a landscape of air bases and practice ranges.

Key Dates:

Spring 1943: Dalhart Army Air Base established in Texas, 45 miles south of Boise City, to train B-17 Flying Fortress crews for the European Theater

July 4, 1943: Boise City celebrates Independence Day; Fourth of July festivities conclude late evening

July 5, 1943, 12:30 AM: First bomb strikes near Forrest Bourk's garage off the courthouse square

July 5, 1943, 12:30-1:00 AM: Five additional bombs fall over 30 minutes; residents initially believe town is under enemy attack

July 5, 1943 (morning): Sheriff discovers bomb casing stamped "U.S. ARMY"; Dalhart Army Air Base confirms error

50th Anniversary (1993): B-17 crew invited back to Boise City; all decline, though radio operator sends audio tape for celebration

Section 3: Historical Significance

The Boise City bombing stands as a remarkable example of how ordinary Americans responded to extraordinary circumstances during wartime. Rather than demanding court-martials or pursuing legal action, the community chose pragmatism and grace. The Army apologized, paid for all damages, and the town moved on—understanding that accidents happen in war, even on home soil.

The incident also reveals the human cost of wartime training operations that history often overlooks. While B-17 crews were preparing to fly dangerous missions over Nazi-occupied Europe, mistakes could—and did—happen. Navigator John M. Daly's error ended his aviation career that morning, but the rest of his crew continued training and eventually flew combat missions over Germany.

Today, the bombing serves as a reminder that patriotism during World War II wasn't just about fighting overseas—it was about communities like Boise City extending grace to the young men learning to fight that war, even when their training literally hit too close to home.

Section 4: Sources & Further Reading

The history of the Boise City bombing has been preserved through local journalism, museum archives, and regional historical documentation. These sources provide first-hand accounts and verified details about that remarkable night in 1943.

Sources:

Cimarron Heritage Center Museum — Boise City, OK | The museum displays an actual practice bomb from the incident along with photographs and newspaper clippings. Address: 1300 N Cimarron Av

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186: Opelousas, Louisiana: The Boy Two Mothers Claimed—A 92-Year DNA Mystery

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186: Opelousas, Louisiana: The Boy Two Mothers Claimed—A 92-Year DNA Mystery

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In February 1849, an enslaved sawmill worker named Appling approached his owner with an extraordinary proposal: he would murder Martin Posey's wife Matilda in exchange for a promise of freedom. What followed exposed the brutal mechanics of what historians call "criminal bargains"—informal contracts between enslavers and enslaved people that the legal system barely acknowledged.

Martin Posey, a man of modest origins who married into the wealthy Holmes family, had earned the nickname "The Devil of Montmorenci." Contemporary accounts describe him as having "quite the thirst for power and money, coupled with his inconsideration for everyone but himself." When his father-in-law died in 1847, Posey gained control of Matilda's inheritance through South Carolina's coverture laws. But he wanted more—specifically, he wanted Matilda's teenage sister Eliza and her portion of the Holmes estate.

The murder occurred on a Friday afternoon in February 1849. Matilda was last seen directing workers on the plantation before Martin asked her to check on the dairy door. There, Appling waited. He bludgeoned her to death while Martin, according to trial evidence, "encouraged him from behind." They buried her body in a shallow grave near a spring.

But the "deal" was always a lie. Roughly one month later, workers discovered Appling's decomposing body in neighboring Abbeville County. The coroner's findings revealed death by gunshot—but it was one detail that transformed everything: Appling's hands were still tied together. Martin Posey had simply erased the witness to his crime.

Timeline of Events

-The Martin Posey case unfolded in "Bloody Edgefield," a South Carolina town where 39 percent of all prosecutions involved violent offenses—the highest rate in the state. Violence wasn't exceptional here; it was routine. Historians have called it "the Deadwood of its day."

-1847: Matilda's father dies; his estate is divided among his children

-February 1849: Appling murders Matilda; she is buried in a shallow grave

-Approximately one week later: Searchers discover Matilda's body

-March 1849: Workers find Appling's body with tied hands in Abbeville County

-October 10, 1849: Four-day trial begins at Edgefield County Court House

-October 14, 1849: Jury returns guilty verdicts on both murder counts

-February 10, 1850: Martin Posey executed by hanging

Historical Significance

The Posey case illuminates the impossible position of enslaved people within antebellum legal systems. South Carolina's Negro Act of 1740 prohibited enslaved people from giving sworn testimony in court, especially against white defendants. Any promise Martin Posey made to Appling existed in a legal void—unenforceable, unwitnessable, and ultimately worthless.

Scholars studying this case note that Appling was "neither passively acquiescent nor docile" but entrepreneurial. He demonstrated what historians call "slave agency"—the capacity to negotiate even within brutal constraints. Lacking conventional bargaining chips like money or property, he weaponized the only thing he had: his willingness to commit violence.

The execution drew between 4,000 and 5,000 spectators—more than ten times the village population. The Edgefield Advertiser reported it was a spectacle "which even the oldest inhabitants could not recollect" for its size. That afternoon, the town square descended into what newspapers called "drunken brawls"—violence so normalized that even an execution couldn't proceed without it.

Sources & Further Reading

-This episode draws on scholarly research into antebellum South Carolina's legal system and the intersection of slavery, violence, and criminal law.

Primary Sources:

-Edgefield County Historical Society Walking Tour documentation, which preserves details of the October 1849 trial proceedings and execution

-South Carolina Department of Archives and History records

Secondary Sources:

-"Race and the Law in South Carolina: From Slavery to Jim Crow" - Academic analysis of the Posey

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In 1896, a five-year-old boy in Hagerstown, Indiana, lost his sight in a workshop accident. Doctors couldn't save his vision, and by age seven, Ralph Teetor would never see again. What happened next defied every expectation of that era—an age when blind children were typically institutionalized and trained only for basket-weaving.

Instead, Ralph's parents raised him as if nothing had changed. They let him explore the machines in his family's factory. They sent him to public school. They refused to let anyone else define what was possible for their son.

By age twelve, Ralph had built his own automobile—before Henry Ford even founded Ford Motor Company. He went on to become America's first blind engineer, graduating from the University of Pennsylvania in 1912 after memorizing every textbook and constructing three-dimensional mental models of every diagram. He tuned Indianapolis 500 race cars by sound alone. He ran a company with 6,500 employees. And when a lawyer's jerky driving made him carsick one too many times, he invented cruise control.

This episode explores how a small-town Indiana boy who spent 86 years in darkness saw possibilities that others couldn't imagine—and created technology that now helps vehicles see the road for themselves.

Timeline of Key Events

The invention of cruise control spans nearly a century of innovation, beginning with a childhood tragedy and culminating in technology that became foundational to self-driving vehicles.

• March 20, 1896: Five-year-old Ralph Teetor injures his eye in a knife accident at his uncles' machine shop in Hagerstown, Indiana
• 1897: Sympathetic ophthalmia causes complete blindness in both eyes
• 1902: At age twelve, Ralph builds his first gasoline-powered automobile capable of 12 mph
• 1912: Graduates from University of Pennsylvania as America's first blind engineer
• 1936: Becomes president of the Society of Automotive Engineers; begins developing cruise control concept
• August 22, 1950: Receives U.S. Patent 2,519,859 for his "Speedostat" speed control device
• 1958: Chrysler introduces the technology as "Auto-Pilot" on luxury models
• 1959: Cadillac brands the technology "Cruise Control"—the name that stuck
• February 15, 1982: Ralph Teetor dies at age 91 in Hagerstown
• 1988: Posthumously inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame
• 2024: Inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame

Historical Significance

Ralph Teetor's story matters beyond the convenience of highway driving. His life represents a fundamental challenge to how disability was understood in early twentieth-century America.

In 1896, the eugenics movement was gaining momentum across the United States. Thirty-two states would eventually pass forced sterilization laws targeting disabled people. "Ugly Laws" barred disabled individuals from public spaces. Eighty to eighty-five percent of blind Americans had no employment. The standard approach to childhood blindness was institutionalization and segregation from sighted children.

Against this backdrop, Ralph Teetor's achievements were revolutionary. He didn't just overcome personal obstacles—he redefined what was considered possible. His invention of cruise control became foundational to technologies he never lived to see: adaptive cruise control, lane-keeping systems, and autonomous vehicles. In 2012, when Google's self-driving car project conducted its first public road test, the passenger was a legally blind man named Steve Mahan. The vehicle used technology descended directly from Teetor's original patent.

The circle completed. A blind man's invention enabling other blind people to experience independent transportation.

Sources & Further Reading

This episode drew from primary historical sources and biographical accounts documenting Ralph Teetor's remarkable life and inventions.

• Marjorie Teetor Meyer, "One Man's Vision: The Life of Automotive Pioneer Ralph R. Teetor" (1995) — Biography written by Teetor's daughter, containing family records and firsthand accounts
• U.S. Patent No. 2,519,859 — "Speed Control Device for Resisting Operation of the Accelerator" (August 22, 1950), available through USPTO.gov
• National Inventors Hall of Fame Profile — Ralph Teetor's 2024 induction documentation at invent.org
• Smithsonian Magazine, "The Sightless Visionary Who Invented Cruise Control" (2018) — Feature article with grandson Ralph Meyer's recollections
• Hagerstown Exponent Archives (1896) — Contemporary newspaper accounts of Ralph's accident and subsequent treatment

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