Read the full story here: He Knew Too Much.
The Udderzook mystery! (Philadelphia: Barclay & Co, 1873.)
Read the full story here: He Knew Too Much.
Mrs. Sarah Shancks owned a high-end millenary concern—“a fancy thread and needle store”—at 22 East 12th Street. At around 10:00 AM, the morning of December 7, 1860, Susan Ferguson, who worked as a seamstress for Mrs. Shanks, entered the store but could not find her employer. She went to the back room where Mrs. Shanks resided and found her lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her throat had been slashed, and she was surrounded by broken glass and crockery. Susan ran out of the store to alert the police.
The police and coroner examined the crime scene and determined that Mrs. Shanks was probably killed by a blow to the head that fractured her skull. Her face had been battered, her nose broken, and on the left side of her face, a deep gash ran from the cheek to the jaw. Her throat had probably been slashed after death and the cut, from ear to ear, was so deep she was nearly decapitated. Investigators found several possible weapons nearby, a small fire shovel bent and covered with blood, an axe head without a handle, and a kitchen knife. Around the body were shattered fragments of a heavy stone water pitcher and shards of glass from broken bottles.
Mrs. Shancks had been a widow for nearly twenty years and until recently, she had a companion living in the store with her. In the days before the murder, she had been ill and incapacitated, and neighbors were cooking meals for her. Elizabeth McMann, daughter of a neighbor, brought her breakfast at around 8:20 and was the last person to see Mrs. Shancks alive.
At one point, the store had been quite lucrative, and Mrs. Shancks had been well off, but she had lost much of her money on bad investments. She had also been swindled by someone to whom she was engaged to be married. “The lady bears an unblemished reputation,” said the New York Tribune, “but seems to have lent a too willing ear to obsequious flatteries.”
She was engaged to be married at the time of the murder, to a Mr. Chambers. Chambers was briefly a person of interest in the investigation, as was Charles Hardy, a dealer who sold Mrs. Shancks’s embroidery, and an unnamed young carpenter who had done work on the store and continued to hang around to the annoyance of Mrs. Shancks. The police determined that robbery was the sole motive, and they had no clear suspects.
On December 11, a young man named Alfred Buchanan was arrested in the town of Susquehanna, about 300 miles west of New York City. Buchanan had gone to stay with Theodore Springstein, brother of a friend. Springstein welcomed Buchanan into his house but could not help but notice a bandage on the man’s hand covering bloody wounds. That, together with the young man’s agitated appearance, aroused Springstein’s suspicions, and he took the information the Justice of the Peace.
Buchanan was arrested, and Captain Caffrey of the New York Police traveled to Susquehanna to bring him back. In the city, Buchanan was identified as the “young carpenter” who had been bothering Mrs. Shancks.
At first, Buchanan denied any knowledge of Mrs. Shancks or her murder. He subsequently admitted he knew her but denied that he killed her, saying his hand was wounded in a fight at a Bowery saloon. A man there had called him a son of a bitch and during the brawl that followed Buchanan drew a knife cutting his hand. Buchanan was unable to give he man’s name or the name of the saloon.
The city police force was criticized in print for allowing the murder of such a violent crime to flee the city. The New York Tribune asserted that Buchanan’s arrest was entirely due to newspaper coverage. The New York Atlas claimed that the police were indifferent to murder cases unless a reward was involved. “The escape was a disgrace to the detective police force in this city,” said the Atlas, “and shows beyond question that that branch of our police department is worse than useless.”
19-year-old Alfred Buchanan was tall and slim with a sinister expression on a face that resembled a bulldog’s. He had a long history of mental illness, having been subject to fits for several years. He behaved erratically, and as symptoms of insanity increased, his parents arranged to have him committed to the Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell’s Island. After about four months at the asylum he was pronounced cured and released. Following his return, he was arrested several times for petty theft and arson.
Alfred Buchanan was indicted for the murder of Sarah Shanck, and he pled not guilty. Before he could be tried, Buchanan was examined by a jury who pronounced him insane. He was committed to a state lunatic asylum.
He was one of those “nervous” people who go into a rage when they see a too gaudy pair of trousers or a glove drawn half way on the hand. He rated travelers in the streetcars for the way in which they sat; would shoot a man for a false pronunciation and jump through a window into a drawing-room with no other motive than to frighten ladies.
My name is John R. Dilleber; I expect to die; I have no hopes off recovery; I was shot, I don’t know by whom; we had a few words; he tried to drive me out of the hall; I don’t know the name of the person who shot me; he was howling at me on Sunday; I do not know what he meant; we had a few angry words on that occasion; I thought he insulted me; he insulted me on this night by ordering me out of the hall using insulting language; I don’t remember the words; I answered that language, but I don’t remember in what way; I said I had as good a right in that hall as he had, or something like that; the first I then knew was that he shot me; I think the name of the man who shot me was Davlin or Dillon, and identify this man (Romaine Dillon) as the man who shot me.
A prominent Vinelander sat down by the side of his loving wife on the sofa, and looked up in her eyes, and called her a duck and a birdie and rabbit, and all the other endearing names. Then he told her he wanted she should learn the use of a revolver, so that in his absence, she could protect their home and silver-ware and defend the honor of Vineland.
Then he went off and bought an elegant seven-shooter and a nice target.
Then he set up the target in one end of the parlor, and gave her a first lesson shooting. Then he told her he wanted she should practice every day. Then he went away for a week. When he returned he found the revolver on the other side of the looking-glass; the parlor door resembled a bad case of small-pox, and the furniture looked as though it bad been indulging in a wrestle with a Burlington county hail storm. Did he walk up to his wife, and sicken her with the endearing names of all the birds and four-footed beasts? Not much! he marched out into the street in his shirt sleeves; with but one boot on and that patched over the big toe.
Then he went galloping up and down, telling every man he met, confidentially, that his wife was crazy. Then he went off and tried to get her into a private Insane Asylum: yes he did, the wretch!
“The details of this diabolical crime place Lattin in the light of a merciless brute who, feigning love (a commodity of which his soul is incapable) to this unfortunate girl, gained her confidence, and having accomplished his unholy purposes, enticed her, in the midst of her trials, to an out-of-the-way ravine, and deliberately took her life—committing a double murder.”
Joseph Snyder murdering Jacob Geogle and wife - Judge Lynch meets out death to the scoundrel in a summary manner Portraits: 1. Joseph Snyder - 2. Alice Geogle, whom Snyder attempted to rape. |
Greed, jealousy, revenge, obsession – the motives of America’s gas-lit murders are universal and timeless. Yet their stories are tightly bound to a particular place and time; uniquely American, uniquely 19th Century.
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