Thanks for sharing that, Normal.
The elder James Gordon Bennett, editor of the New York Herald, was accused of having founded his personal fortune on blackmailing a man who had been present the night Helen Jewett was murdered.
New-York Daily Tribune, February 23, 1855, Page 7, Columns 1-2
The Case of Fry v. Bennett
A Card from Mr. Fry
To the Public
[...] When the trial came on, four important
witnesses of mine were dead, and among them Judge
Noah, who had told me he was ready to come on the
stand at any moment, and give evidence that within
his person[al know]ledge Bennett had at various times,
under threat [of pu]blishing in The Herald the name
of an unfortunate man who happened to be in the
house of Rosina Townsend, on the night Helen
Jewett was murdered, extorted from him sums in all
amounting to $13,000, and that, not content even
with this large amount of black-mail, which laid the
foundation of his fortune, he continued to demand more, and
finally drove the poor man to commit suicide.
[...]
Edward P. Fry
----end
Newspaper Libel: A Handbook for the Press (Boston: Ticknor and Company, 1888), Pages 199-200
by Samuel Merrill
The New York Herald published a series of eleven articles from November 3, 1848, to February 11, 1849, in which the conduct of Edward P. Fry, as a manager of Italian opera, was severely commented upon. It was charged that Mr. Fry had employed critics to defame the female members of his company in hired newspapers; that Madame Pico was insulted and discharged from the company, and that she had sued the manager; that Fry had packed the Astor Place Opera House with loafers and hirelings to hiss Benedetti off the stage; that the manager appeared before the audience and "sustained his favorite character of an ape, by no means for the first time"; that he was a "half-starved musical adventurer " ; that the opera season was a history of ridiculous blunders, disgraceful brawling, and broken promises; that Mr. Fry's opera in Philadelphia had collapsed; that, but for the patronage of public gamblers at the opera, the manager could not sustain himself a week, etc., etc. Mr. Fry brought suit for libel against James Gordon Bennett, in February, 1849. Mr. Bennett maintained in defence that the articles were true; that he believed them to be true when he published them; that he published them without malice; and that, therefore, they were privileged. After more than fourteen years of litigation, the Court of Appeals, in September, 1863, held that the bounds of privilege had been exceeded, and a verdict for the plaintiff for $6,000 was sustained. In such a case an editor is responsible for the truth of what he alleges
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There once was a guy from NantucketOriginally posted by TradeName View Post
whos dick was so long he could suck it
It was As long as this thread
And as old as the dead
I tried to read it but said Fuk it!
(the only thing more stale than this stinker is rap music. Lol) id suggest starting a lechmere thread or something with a modicum of ....Last edited by Abby Normal; 02-04-2019, 06:31 AM.Leave a comment:
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Accounts of the Rev. E. K. Avery, another of the wax museum rogues. As with Robinson, Avery was acquitted.
Trial of Rev. Mr. Avery: A Full Report of the Trial of Ephraim K. Avery (Boston: 1833), link
by Benjamin Franklin Hallett
A Vindication of the Result of the Trial of Rev. Ephraim K. Avery (Boston: Russell, Odiorne and Co., 1834), link
by Timothy Merritt
The Terrible Hay-stack Murder: Life and Trial of the Rev. Ephraim K. Avery (Philadelphia: Barclay & Co., 1876), link
by Ephraim K. Avery
A forensic textbook has a section on the evidence in the Avery case.
Elements of Medical Jurisprudence, Volume 2 (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott 1863, 12th ed.), Pages 196-199
by Theodric Romeyn Beck, John Brodhead Beck
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This books has accounts of some of the other rogues featured in the exhibition of wax figures.
The Record of Crimes in the United States (Buffalo: H. Faxon & Co., 1834) Pages 13-41
Charles Gibbs, alias James D. Jeffers with Notices of His Partner in Crime, Thomas J. Wansley
Pages 116-129
John Francis Knapp and Joseph Jenkins Knapp
Pages 202-213
Jesse Strang
Link to another account of the pirate Gibbs.
Mutiny and Murder: Confession of Charles Gibbs, a Native of Rhode Island (Providence: Israel Smith, 1831), link
by Charles Gibbs
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Two of the quotes in the conversation from the Robinson booklet (“a marvellous proper man", “I could a tale unfold") are from Shakespeare.
A Complete Concordance Or Verbal Index to Works, Phrases and Passages in the Dramatic Works of Shakespeare (London: Macmillan, 1894), Page 1226
by John Bartlett
She finds although I cannot, Myself to be a marvellous proper man. Richard III
Page 1521
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thay soul. Hamlet
For the quote “That sight is very sharp, I ween” I found something similar from the following poem.
M'Fingal: A Modern Epic Poem in Four Cantos (Baltimore: A. Miltenberger, 1812), Page 10
By John Trumbull
For any man, with half an eye,
What stands before him, may espy;
But optics sharp it needs, I ween,
To see what is not to be seen.
----end
I find the quote “life in Lunnun [London]” used in a novel by Bulwer Lytton based upon a real murder case.
Eugene Aram: A Tale, Volume 1 (New York: J & J Harper, 1832), link
by Edward Bulwer Lytton Baron Lytton
Page 171
“Aughs" replied the corporal, “’tis a pleasant thing to look about un with all one’s eyes open; rogue here, rogue there—keeps one alive;-—life in Lunnun, life in a village-—all the difference 'twixt healthy walk, and a doze in armchair; by the faith of a man 'tis!"
“What! it is pleasant to have rascals about one?”
“Surely yes,” returned the corporal, dryly; “what so delightful like as to feel one's cliverness and 'bility all set an end—-bristling up like a porkypine; nothing makes a man tread so light, feel so proud, breathe so briskly, as the knowledge that he's all his wits about him, that he's a match for any one, that the Divil himself could not take him in. Augh that's what I calls the use of an immortal soul—-bother!”
Eugene Aram: A Tale, Volume 2 (New York: J & J Harper, 1832), link
A review of the novel.
Fraser's Magazine for Town and Country, Volume 5, February, 1832, Pages 107-113
A Good Tale Badly Told
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The preface to the Robinson booklet refers to Helen Jewett as "a Milwood." This seems to be a reference to the character Mrs. Millwood in a 1731 play by George Lillo, The London Merchant: Or, The History of George Barnwell.
The Reader's Handbook of Famous Names in Fiction, Allusions, References, Proverbs, Plots, Stories, and Poems (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1910), Page 191
By Ebenezer Cobham Brewer
Barnwell (George),tbe chief character and title of a tragedy by George Lillo. George Barnwell is a London apprentice, who falls in love with Sarah Millwood of Shoreditch, who leads him astray. He first robs his master of 200. He next robs his uncle, a rich grazier at Ludlow, and murders him. Having spent all the money of his iniquity, Sarah Millwood turns him off and informs against him. Both are executed (1732).
For many years this play was acted on boxing-night, as a useful lesson to London apprentices.
----end
A link to a 1906 edition of the play.
The London Merchant: Or, The History of George Barnwell, and Fatal Curiosity (Boston: D. C. Heath, 1906), link
by George Lillo
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An account from Nathaniel Hawthorne's notebooks about his visit to an exhibition of wax figures which included Jewett and Robinson.
Passages from the American Note-books, Volume 1 (Boston: Houghton, Miflin, 1884), Pages 122-124
by Nathaniel Hawthorne
July 13th [1838].—-A show of wax-figures, consisting almost wholly of murderers and their victims,—- Gibbs and Hansley, the pirates, and the Dutch girl whom Gibbs murdered. Gibbs and Hansley [sic; Wansley] were admirably done, as natural as life; and many people who had known Gibbs would not, according to the showman, be convinced that this wax-figure was not his skin stuffed. The two pirates were represented with halters round their necks, just ready to be turned off; and the sheriff stood behind them, with his watch, waiting for the moment. The clothes, halter, and Gibbs’s hair were authentic. E. K. Avery and Cornell,—-the former a figure in black, leaning on the back of a chair, in the attitude of a clergyman about to pray; an ugly devil, said to be a good likeness. Ellen Jewett and R. P. Robinson, she dressed richly, in extreme fashion, and very pretty; he awkward and stiff, it being difficult to stuff a figure to look like a gentleman. The showman seemed very proud of Ellen Jewett, and spoke of her somewhat as if this wax-figure were a real creation. Strong and Mrs. Whipple, who together murdered the husband of the latter. Lastly the Siamese twins. The showman is careful to call his exhibition the “Statuary.” He walks to and fro before the figures, talking of the history of the persons, the moral lessons to be drawn therefrom, and especially of the excellence of the wax-work. He has for sale printed histories of the personages. He is a friendly, easy-mannered sort of a half-genteel character, whose talk has been moulded by the persons who most frequent such a show; an air of superiority of information, a moral instructor, with a great deal of real knowledge of the world. He invites his departing guests to call again and bring their friends, desiring to know whether they are pleased; telling that he had a thousand people on the 4th of July, and that they were all perfectly satisfied. He talks with the female visitors, remarking on Ellen Jewett’s person and dress to them, he having “spared no expense in dressing her; and all the ladies say that a dress never set better, and he thinks he never knew a handsomer female.” He goes to and fro, snuffing the candles, and now and then holding one to the face of a favorite figure. Ever and anon, hearing steps upon the staircase, he goes to admit a new visitor. The visitors,-— a half-bumpkin, half country-squire-like man, who has something of a knowing air, and yet looks and listens with a good deal of simplicity and faith, smiling between whiles; a mechanic of the town; several decent-looking girls and women, who eye Ellen herself with more interest than the other figures,-—women having much curiosity about such ladies; a gentlemanly sort of person, who looks somewhat ashamed of himself for being there, and glances at me knowingly, as if to intimate that he was conscious of being out of place; a boy or two, and myself, who examine wax faces and faces of flesh with equal interest. A political or other satire might be made by describing a show of wax-figures of the prominent public men; and by the remarks of the showman and the spectators, their characters and public standing might be expressed. And the incident of Judge Tyler as related by E----- might be introduced.
----end
Hawthorne mentions that the exhibitor sold "printed histories of the personages." This appears to be one of them, judging by the last pages of the booklet.
Life and Conversations of R. P. Robinson, the Supposed Murderer of Ellen Jewett (Boston: 1837), link
Pages 2-3
PREFACE
In the annals of modern crime there is not recorded a murder committed under circumstances more calculated to arouse curiosity than the one in question. It awakens more than the thrilling interest of romance. It is a real tragedy which truth alone can embellish; and if rightly improved will do more to guard the footsteps of the young than all the fictions of the stage, or the homilies of the pulpit. It is not an affair of another age or country, relying upon the credit of historians for its veracity; but an event of but yesterday, passing before our sight in the midst of a thronged metropolis. The victim of the murder was a person who, however unworthy, filled no small space in the public eye. Thousands who w[ere] ignorant, both of her name and character, have done homage to her charms. Such was the beauty of her person, that many who have seen her but once, will remember her forever. She was beautiful, witty, accomplished-—all, but chaste, that woman can be-—an Eve perverted to a Milwood. In another age or country, and under different circumstances, she might have figured as a Helen or Cleopatra. How little did she in childhood anticipate-—how little did those fond friends who hursed her infancy in the retirement of a New England village, anticipate her future career of guilt, and the tragic end that awaited her And the heartless villain who betrayed her to infamy-—where is he? Why sleeps the vengeance of law? Where are the national morals? Why does not the voice of public sentiment shake down those altars upon which female virtue is daily sacrificed? How long shall the crime of seduction be tolerated? If it be countenanced by existing laws, and the existing code of morals, is it not time to frame new laws and a new code of morals? Surely it is the duty of all men of real honor to unite and speak out their true sentiments on this subject. For God's sake let us dare speak out manfully and say whether or not he shall be regarded as a gentleman, who, by the seduction of a gifted woman like Ellen Jewett, as it were, rolls an avalanche upon society. If woman was to show. a disposition and ability to inflict upon our sex as great an amount of wretchedness as her own sex suffers from the art and perfidy of man, we should call public meetings and make resolves and enactments for the protection of our persons and privileges. But as woman has no direct political influence she must look for protection to the honor and generosity of man. Let us not abuse her confidence; for she has been ever faithful, from that hour when Adam went forth from the garden into the wilderness of thorns, leaning upon the arm of his devoted spouse. If woman has erred, she has erred in loving man too deeply, and in confiding in him too much. The conversations contained in the following pages, are published by the consent of Richard P. Robinson, who is now in Texas. They may be relied on as strictly true. The dialogue is almost verbatim as spoken. The author is sure that it will be read with avidity, since little is known here of Robinson, except through such portions of his journal as have become public. The writer having spent several days with him, after his acquittal, availed himself of the opportunity afforded of studying his character and actions, and carefully noting down his words.
Pages 4-5
CONVERSATIONS, ETC.
I. Have you as much pride as ever, Robinson?
R. No. I have run my career. I have nothing more to hope from the patronage of this hypocritical world. I have no desire to flatter it. Mankind! I love ye not. I will no longer pretend to see you as you would seem to others. I know your disguise; I have worn it—-I know your arts; I have practised them-—I know the trickery of the stage; I have myself been behind the curtains-—examined the scenes, scrutinized the tinselled wardrobes-—sneered at the elements of a thunderstorm, and convivialized in the green-room. I can unmask one half of New York and uncloak the other. I know that city, web and woof, male and female, from the East river to the North, and from Castle Garden to Washington Place. I have not only surveyed its length and breadth, but sounded, also, its depth, even from La Fayette Place down to Corlear's Hook. I am familiar with the pollution of the Five Points, and the unwritten rascalities of the upper circles.
[...]
Pages 6-7
[...]
I. You probably owe your life to Mr. Robert Furlong.
R. Mr. Furlong has an excellent memory, much better than mine. “That sight is very sharp, I ween,” &c. Mr. Furlong is a very worthy man. You see the benefit of smoking. Had I not been at Furlong's to purchase cigars, I might have been sworn to death. Smoking may kill other folks, but it keeps me alive. Will you take a good cigar. I am something of an epicure in the matter of cigars. These are from the Champaign fountain. I observe you bite off the twist. That is wrong. Take your knife and make an incision, thus. All luxuries lose their zest if taken out of time or manner-—whether women, wine, or cigars. I like to see things done exactly right-—for example, the tying of a cravat or the folding of a letter. Ellen could finish a letter genteelly. She has cost me no little sum in the item of sealing wax.
I. What has become of all your letters from Ellen? Were they all delivered up?
R. No, indeed, I have them locked up in a trunk within a trunk. You shall see some of them.
I. Do you think Ellen loved you?
R. How could she help it? Half the women in New York were in love with me. Somehow I pass for “a marvellous proper man.” I can go back to Gotham and marry an heiress. But out upon matrimony, say I. I am not fond of cold ham.
I. Perhaps not. But how do you like living here at home? Are you contented?
R. No. I sigh for the Manhattan fleshpots. Country life is very “stale and unprofitable.” Come-—take a ride with me to New Haven. I must have action or ennui. Connecticut is a very stupid little state. I wish I were swimming in Broadway again. I love “life in Lunnun.” Hoxie says 't will never do to go back. I suppose I am rather unpopular with the whiskered portion of New York. The envious vulgar are always ready to drag down a man of distinction to their own level. Why, the Duke of Wellington was once attacked by the mob, in his own carriage. No doubt, if I should be caught at the Five Points, I should be in danger of tar and feathers. Speaking of the Five Points, I will show you a description of that delightful place, which I once gave a friend. Here is a copy of the letter containing it. It may interest one who is a stranger to New York.
I. How did you manage to support your extravagant way of living in New York?
R. Why, I hardly know, myself. Have you never observed that some folks always seem to have a plenty of money, without income or economy? “Behold the lillies of the valley.”—There are hundreds of young fellows in New York who live in this way. The thing is easier in practice than in theory. It is only requisite, the moment you get five dollars, to convert it into clothing. I have always found this the truest economy; and when you need five dollars, why beg it, or borrow it, or , get it in any of forty ways.
I. Yes, I understand. But what is the end of this way of living?
R. The end? There is only one end to be examined. Before you reach the other end, there are chances enough of marrying a fortune-—or drawing a prize in a lottery—-or at the worst, of being converted.
I. Did you find many interesting girls amongst the courtezans in New York?
R. Yes. Some of them surpass all other women I have ever known, in beauty; but above all, in eloquence. They can tell piteous tales of their wrongs and sufferings, tricks of the trade though, tricks of the trade, I do assure you.
I. What kind of a woman is Rosina Townsend?
R. Rosina! She is the very devil,--rather plausible,-- as mild sometimes, as a cat with five kittens purring in the ashes. But I tell you she is the devil. “I could a tale unfold"-—but live and let live is my motto. Let her go back into her old business—-open house and make her living by her trade, like an honest woman. Justice can better spare her than New York can.
[...]
----end
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Another book with a section on the Robinson trial. I have quoted a bit of the testimony.
American State Trials, Volume 12 (St Louis: F. H. Thomas Law Book Company, 1919), Pages 429-487
edited by John Davison Lawson
The Trial of Richard P. Robinson for the Murder of Helen Jewett
New York City, 1836
Page 439
Dr. David L. Rodgers. Examined the body of Helen Jewett; the wounds on her head were the cause of death; the principal wound fractured the skull, compressing the bones upon the brain; the body bore every appearance of its having made no movement after the fatal blow, and that death consequently must have been instantaneous.
The hatchet found in the rear of Mrs. Townsend's was shown the witness, and he said it was such a weapon as he had supposed had been used by the murderer, and that he doubted not that that it had been the instrument of death.
Pages 461-462
Frederick W. Gourgous. Am a clerk in the employ of Dr. Chabert, the Fire King. He keeps an apothecary's store. Was in the store of Dr. Chabert on the Saturday evening preceding the murder of Helen Jewett.
Mr. Phenix. Did you know the prisoner at the bar-—Robinson? Not by that name, sir. Knew him by the name of Douglas.
Mr. Phenix. Are you certain that he is the person. Am not very positive, but think he is. It is some time since I saw him before that day. I believe the prisoner at the bar, to the best of my knowledge, is the same person who called himself by name Douglas; have seen him four or five times in Mr. Chabert's store, in the back room of the store. On one occasion he called at the store and wished to procure of me some poison; believe this was a day or two before I heard of the murder. There was another person in the store at the time, Francis Meyers. The poison that he asked for was arsenic. He said that he wanted it for the purpose of killing rats. We did not sell any to him. We are not in the habit of selling it to anybody.
Cross-examined. Have been in the employ of the Fire King four years. The store is 324 Broadway. We do a great deal of business, and a number of persons are frequently in the store. Had seen the prisoner several times in the house before the murder. The last time that I saw him there was on the Saturday night before the murder. We are always in the habit of refusing to sell arsenic to strangers and others. It was after dark when he called to buy the arsenic. We have frequent applications in the course of a year for arsenic for killing rats. It is a very common thing; mentioned this circumstance to Mr. Lowndes about two weeks after the young man came to purchase the arsenic; did not go to Mr. Lowndes to tell him, he came to me; did not mention it to any one except to Mr. Chabert; did not mention to Mr. Lowndes after Robinson was arrested for the murder that a person of the name of Douglas had been to our store to buy some poison. The first time that I saw Mr. Robinson, the prisoner, knowing him to be Mr. Robinson, was in this court; knew him before as Mr. Douglas. One or two persons in the court pointed him out to be as Mr. Robinson.
Mr. Maxwell required the witness to point out to him any gentleman who informed him that the prisoner was Mr. Robinson, and he pointed out two persons from among the spectators-—a Mr. Rockway and a Mr. Trowbridge.
Mr. Gourgous. Did not know the prisoner at the bar as Mr. Robinson, until he was pointed out to me in the court. Mr. Brink did not point him out to me. We have frequently had prostitutes in our store and office, the same as I expect every other apothecary in this city has, There is a private office attached to the store, and I have seen females there frequently; have not seen more there since the murder of Helen Jewett than before.
To Mr. Phenix. This paper is in my handwriting. It was given by me to the prisoner. It is a receipt for money paid by him to Dr. Chabert. The person to whom I gave that paper is the same person who called to buy the arsenic.
To Mr. Maxwell. When I said I did not know the prisoner and asked persons where he was, I meant that I did not know where he was seated.
To Mr. Phenix. I mind just now that the first time I knew the prisoner by the name of Robinson was in the court; but I know the person I knew as Douglas is Robinson. Knew this from Mr. Chabert.
To Mr. Maxwell. There were no persons but Mr. Meyers and myself in Doctor Ohaberts's when the arsenic was called for.
----endLeave a comment:
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This book has a long chapter on the Jewett case. I have quoted an interesting assertion about Robinson.
The New York Tombs: Its Secrets and Its Mysteries (San Francisco: A. Roman & Co., 1874), Pages 97-136
by Charles Sutton, edited by James B. Mix, Samuel Anderson Mackeever
Page 108
[...] Helen became possessed of the information that Robinson had poisoned, or attempted to poison a young girl whom he had first ruined, and who then stood in the way of his marriage with the daughter of his employer, to whom he was paying court At any rate the girl died under suspicious circumstances. Helen taunted Robinson with this crime, and his rage and fear can easily be imagined. [...]
----end
Alfred Henry Lewis wrote an article about the Jewett case, He includes some items that are also in the above book (a description of Jewett, letters to and from Jewett), but represents them differently.
Pearson's Magazine, Volume 28, Issue 2, December, 1912, Pages 43-52
How Robinson Killed Helen Jewett and Why
by Alfred Henry Lewis
Book version of the above article.
Nation-famous New York Murders (Chicago: M. A. Donohue & Company, 1914), Pages 7-36
by Alfred Henry Lewis
The Girl in Green
Another book with a chapter on the Jewett case.
History, Romance and Philosophy of Great American Crimes and Criminals (New York: N. D. Thompson, 1885), Pages 360-398
By Frank Triplett
The Murder of Helen Jewett
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In Jeff's (Mayerling's) post above, he refers to a woman murdered in a brothel. I think he is referring to the Murder of Helen (or Ellen) Jewett.
This is a retrospective view of the case from 1878.
Connecticut Western News, August 29, 1878, Page 4, Column 2
A Tragedy Recalled
Helen Jewett's Murder Forty Years Ago in New York City
Many New Yorkers are still living who
remember the stirring scenes attending
the tragic death of Helen Jewett, who
was murdered on the night of April 9,
1836, while sleeping in her boudoir, No.
41 Thomas street. Perhaps there never
was a crime in any country that exceeded
in interest, in the mystery and romance
of its details, that which compassed
the death of the fair Helen Jewett, and
still remains as much a mystery as ever.
The police court records furnish but
meager notes of the affair, but
cotemporary [sic] newspapers were alive to the
dramatic interest of the case, so that
extra editions were issued during the
trial of young Robinson, the girl's
alleged murderer, finding ready buyers,
and indeed inaugurating that feature of
newspaper enterprise.
Helen Jewett was an inmate of a noted
resort of the fast men of Gotham at that
period. Scarcely out of her teens, with
a beauty of form and feature seldom met
with, and possessing a gifted, even
brilliant, mind, this remarkable girl was
petted and courted by a host of men who
might have improved her station. But
all such offers Helen steadfastly refused,
To a few admirers she was all
encouragement; the others were peremptorily
rejected. Richard P. Robinson, a young
man nineteen years of age, of
prepossessing appearance, and with a turn for
literary acquirements, was one of the
favored few. He was a native of
Durham, Conn., but made the city his
permanent home, his place of business
being No. 101 Maiden lane, with the
house of Joseph Hoxie & Co., hardware
dealers.
On Saturday night, April 9, so the first
story ran, Robinson left his boarding
house at No. 42 Dey street, to visit his
inamorata. He was in a jealous mood,
and evidently meditated some terrible
crime, for he "carried a small hatched
concealed beneath his coat." Reaching
the house, as Rosina Townsend afterward
declared, at 9 :30 o'clock, he ascended
to Helen's apartments, and ordered up
some champaigne an hour later.
Midnight had scarcely passed when the girl
Townsend thought she smelt the odor of
burning clothes, whereupon she rushed
to the door of Helen's room, threw it
open, and to her horror saw the bed was
in flames, with the mangled body of
Miss Jewett upon it. Her screams
brought a street-watchman to the spot,
and before the fire had gained much
headway the body was dragged off and
the flames extinguished. Three sharp
gashes across poor Helen's scalp showed
where the fatal blows had been struck.
She must have died without & struggle,
for an occupant of an adjoining room
heard no sounds whatever. Robinson's
cloak was found in the yard. The hatchet
was discovered at daylight in a
neighbor's yard, with a piece of twine attached
to the handle exactly corresponding to
another piece of twine tied to a button
on the cloak. Helen's youthful lover
was at once suspected of the dark deed.
Assistant Captain Niblo [sic; Noble] of the "Watch,"
or local police, repaired with officers to
No. 42 Dey street, and Robinson was
found in bed fast asleep. On seeing the
corpse, he shuddered, but exhibited no
other emotion. A coroner's jury was
convened at eight o'clock Sunday morning,
and Robinson was held on their
verdict to answer for the death of the
fair victim, after which he was hurried
away in a carriage to Old Bridewell
prison.
The scene of the tragedy in Thomas
street that Sunday morning disclosed an
excited populace, which had not then
become hardened to deeds of violence
of daily occurrence, surging about the
house.
James Gordon Bennett thus describes
a visit in person to the chamber of death:
"The house is elegantly furnished
with mirrors, costly paintings, sofas,
ottomons [sic] and other household goods, of
almost imperial style. Entering Helen
Jewett s room, my guide and I halted.
There stood the mahogany bed, all
covered with burnt pieces of linen, blankets
and pillows, black as cinders. Stretched
on the carpet I saw a sheet covering
something carelessly, as if flung over it.
My attendant half uncovered the ghastly,
white corpse. It was a darkened room,
but I began slowly to discover
lineaments, as one would the beauties of
marble statuary. It was the most
remarkable sight I ever beheld. Not a
vein was to 'be seen ; the body was as
white, as full, as polished as the purest
Parian marble. The perfect figure,
exquisite limbs, fine face and arms, and
beautiful bust, all surpassed the
traditional Venus de Medicis, according to
the casts generally given of her."
Outside the building the crowd grew
almost to the proportion of a mob, so
fierce was the demand for a sight of the
place and the dead body. The authorities
were compelled to look to the safety
of the building by surrounding it with
armed police, sheriffs and watchmen. A
morbid excitement pervaded the city,
and everybody looked forward to the
approaching trial of Robinson with such
interest as only a case of this kind could
generate. Several prominent citizens
were surprised in the house when the
cry of fire was raised, and when the
murder became known it was loudly asserted
that a threatened exposure of Robinson
and others led to the commission of the
deed. The dead girl was buried in St.
John's burying ground on Monday,
April 11, at 11 a. m.
Ogden Hoffman, Esq., at that day the
leading criminal lawyer in town, defended
the accused. At the preliminary
examination Robinson denied all knowledge
of the affair, denied that he was in
the building, and that the hatchet had
ever been in his possession. Hoxie's
storekeeper of No. 101 Maiden Lane
identified the latter article as one
belonging to the store. Bridewell prison
was surrounded for three days in succession
by anxious crowds, who tried to
obtain a glimpse of the prisoner on his
way to court.
On April 20, a true bill of indictment
was found against the trembling youth
in Bridewell. The very same day Rosina
Townsend auctioned off her household
goods, an immense throng being present
to obtain, if possible, something from
the room of the dead Helen, or to witness
the spot where the most sensational
murder of the age had taken place.
On Saturday, June 4, so great was the
popular excitement that law, order and
government gave way to it. A strong
faction, who believed Robinson innocent,
were gathered about the Court of Oyer
and Terminer on that day, at 10 o'clock,
angrily discussing his chances of escape.
Before noon a yelling mob broke into
the courtroom, where Robinson stood
pale and trembling, but hopeful, before
the bar. They drove the Judges and
court officers out of the hall, seized the
prisoner, and carried him away upon
their shoulders. The Mayor issued a
proclamation, calling upon all good
citizens to help quell the disturbance, and
the police, sheriffs and all available
limbs of the law were called out. The
press called upon the Governor for the
militia, and this would doubtless have
been granted had not Robinson at the
next sitting of the court, on Monday
morning, proved an alibi. This was
obtained upon the testimony of Robert
Furlong, Jr., a grocer, of Nassau and
Cedar streets, who swore that "Dick"
Robinson, was one of his customers in
the cigar line, and that they sat smoking
chatting together upon two boxes in
front of the store from 9 to 10:15 o'clock
the night the murder was committed.
Sufficient proof was brought in
support of this testimony to sustain the
alibi, and additional strong points were
raised in the young man's behalf before
the case was given to the jury that night.
Within eight minutes after retiring the
entire body came back with a unanimous
verdict of acquittal. Then there was
raised such a shout as never before shook
the somber wall of a New York court of
justice. A tremendous outburst of
popular enthusiasm followed, but died away
in a few weeks. The real murder was
not discovered. It was supposed that
the inmates of the house committed the
foul deed, but no evidence was ever
obtained to hold any of the demi-monde
upon such a terrible charge. Robinson
left the city for Texas, served, it is said,
in the frontier skirmishes against Mexican
raiders, just prior to the Mexican
war, and shortly afterward died.
Miss Jewett's real name was Dorcas
Dorrance, and she was born in Augusta,
Me., where she was in infancy let an
orphan. Her remarkable beauty of
person, and witty, talented mind, made her
many friends as she grew to womanhood.
Judge Western adopted her and sent her
to a female academy at Coney, on the
Kennebec river. While spending the
summer of 1829 at a friend's house in
Norridgewoc, Me., being then sixteen
years old, and a truly charming girl,
Dorcas was ruined by a bank clerk, whose
name was never made known. Her downward
career then began, which ended so
tragically in New York.
---end
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Sorry I screwed up the name, Robert James Lees (too much holiday cheer). Did Dr. Howard have anything to do with bringing up Lees or did somebody else make a fictitious conclusion about Lees and Howard?Leave a comment:
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Lees offered his "Clairvoyant" services to the Police to help find the Ripper and he was declined. Politely or not I do not know. His fifteen minutes of fame were dashed in 15 seconds. He was supposed to be a Journalist as well- did he write one of the many hoax letters pretending to be the Ripper to get his own back?
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Jennifer Pegg in the Ripperologist no. 96 (October 2008) provides quite a bit of detail about Robert Lee James and the Chicago/San Francisco Crime Club - Dr. Howard connection.Originally posted by TradeName View PostLeave a comment:
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A 1913 article with claims about Colt's literary ambitions and an alleged Colt sighting in California.
Pearson's Magazine, Volume 29, January, 1913, Pages 40-50
The Broadway-Chambers Street Murder
by Alfred Henry Lewis
Page 43
Colt was not without his ambitions, which were all literary. He had tried sketches and short stories; but such magazines as the Mirror, the Knickerbockers [sic], and Graham's, over in Philadelphia, had refused most consistently to accept, pay for and print them. The Colt literary output lacked quality, atmosphere, interest--so said the editors--and could lay claim to be pulselessly nothing beyond fairly good English. Also, for a long story which he wrote, Colt could find neither publisher nor encouragement.
Page 50
Ten years; and the time was 1852. Samuel M. Everett had been an acquaintance, almost a friend, of murderer Colt. The lure of gold had taken Everett to California. It was in the Santa Clara Valley. The low sun was going down behind Coast Range, as Everett drew bridle before an opulent ranch house in hope of finding night quarters for himself and horse. As he swung from the stirrup, a lean, small, gray-eyed man, skin tanned to the color of a saddle, stepped from the wide verandah, huge spur clanking, a cigarette delicately between his white, even teeth.
The tanned, lean, gray personage was appareled in the dress of a California rico, with brocaded Spanish jacket, silk scarf, silver spurs, trousers slashed to the knee and garnished along the seams with a fringe of little silver bells. On the verandah lay the rico's bullion-freighted sombrero. His horse, a well-knit handsome bay, half hidden beneath a great Chihuahua saddle, stood patiently near. Plainly the rico had but just returned from a canter about his wide belongings. As the lean, tanned, gray-eyed one approached, a golden-haired woman, placid, plump and beautiful, came and stood in the door, while two children peered shyly from behind her skirts like a brace of doubt-ridden rabbits, unable to make up their minds.
Everett stared at the lean, tanned slight figure as one planet-struck.
"Mr. Colt?—-Mr. John C. Colt?" he faltered.
"No, senior," returned the other with steady emphasis, while the gray eyes took on an ophidian glitter which was like a menace-—"No, senor. I have the honor to be Don Carlos Juan Brewster, and greatly at your service. Were you looking for—-whom did you say?—-a Mr. Colt?"
"No," said Everett, on instant guard; "I was but thinking you might give me a bed for the night. I am Mr. Everett of New York. If, however, it would be an inconvenience----"
The lean, tanned rico interrupted by waving a bestowing hand toward the verandah, where the golden-haired woman stood smiling.
"The Senor Everett will be a welcome guest at my house, which is now his house, for a day, or a year, or what space he wills."
----end
Link to substantially the same article as a chapter in a book.
Nation-famous New York Murders (Chicago: M.A. Donohue, 1914), Pages 209-241
By Alfred Henry Lewis
The Chambers Street BloodshedLeave a comment:
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A section from a biography of New York Governor (and later US Secretary of State) William H. Seward dealing with his refusal to halt the execution of John C. Colt.
William H. Seward: 1831-1846 (New York: Derby and Miller, 1891), Pages 628-635
by William Henry Seward, Frederick William Seward
[...]
And now began to come appeals to the Governor for his [Colt's] pardon, or the commutation of his sentence. In answer to one of them, Seward observed:
The sympathy for convicted persons is not unnatural, and those who indulge it forget the danger to which it leads. When blood has been shed the whole community is alarmed; every citizen rushes forward to apprehend the fugitive, and bring him to justice. The vindicatory spirit continues its work until the offender is convicted and sentenced, and then that spirit reposes and is satisfied.
The opposite or antagonist spirit rises then, and, at first, timidly and apprehensively, approaches the Executive power, but, gaining confidence, becomes more and more importunate, until it happens in most cases that the Governor who conscientiously declines to pardon murder judicially established, and perhaps unrepented of, comes to be regarded as himself the only manslayer in the transaction.
My table groans with letters from gentlemen and ladies of acknowledged respectability and influence; among the former are gentlemen of the press, and of every profession, recommending, urging, and soliciting the pardon of John C. Colt.
Colt had been sentenced to be hanged on the 18th of November. As soon as the sentence was made known, the letters and petitions began to pour in upon the Governor. Nearly every morning's boat from New York brought visitors who had come to urge the same request. The pressure increased as it became manifest that the Governor was indisposed to interfere with the due course of law.
Alluding to the case in one of his letters home, Seward said:
Albany, Saturday Afternoon.
This has been a day of consuming anxiety. It seems that the fates have combined against Colt to pervert his own mind and those of his counsel. His confession, which it appears he prepared immediately after his arrest, and which was evasive and unsatisfactory, was suppressed until the proofs were closed, and then read to the jury.
His counsel have been first before the Circuit Judge, then before all the judges of the Supreme Court at Rochester, and, defeated there, they applied to the Chancellor. Refused by him, they applied to me thirteen days only before the day of his execution, and the papers he submits show him a depraved man. His friends have been before me most of the day, and the rest has been spent in examining the papers submitted.
A week later he wrote:
Albany, Saturday.
You can have no idea of the fatiguing weariness of the week spent in hearing every form of application for pardon to Colt, and in studying the voluminous papers submitted. It is over now, and I have just time to give you a hasty note before the mail closes.
You will find the decision in Colt's case in the Journal.
In this decision the Governor said:
The proof on the trial left no doubt that Adams suffered death at about three o'clock in the afternoon, on the 17th of September, by the hands of the accused in his apartments, in the second story of a spacious granite edifice on the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street, no other person being then present. It was rendered quite certain that the meeting of the parties on that occasion was neither preconcerted by them, nor anticipated by the accused. It was equally clear that he had made no preparation for so dreadful a deed; and that until that time the parties had maintained amicable relations, and the accused had manifested no malice nor even unkindness toward the deceased. These circumstances bore strongly in favor of the accused. But, on the contrary, the deceased was a meek and inoffensive man. He was unarmed, and visited the prisoner, although under some excitement, yet without any hostile purpose; and when the remains of the deceased were found, the head, fractured, with certainly five, and probably more, wounds, no longer retained the human form. . . . These wounds were manifestly the result of blows inflicted with a hatchet.
A hatchet, which was one of the usual form, and in weight exceeded seventeen ounces, was found in the apartment, and identified as belonging to the accused. Each of the wounds would have been mortal, and whichever of them was first inflicted must have instantly deprived the deceased of consciousness and all power of resistance. Such a homicide could not have been accidental, or necessary for self-defense. It was committed with a deadly weapon in a cruel and inhuman manner, upon a defenseless and powerless man. Reason and law agree that the homicide could not have been innocent, justifiable, or excusable. Society could never exist if human life could be destroyed in such a manner with impunity. It was, then, a felonious homicide, and the jury had only to ascertain the degree of crime which had been perpetrated.
By a presumption of law, that crime was murder, and it remained for the manslayer to show that the deed would bear a milder designation.
The accused could show this only by proving that Adams was perpetrating or attempting to perpetrate a crime or misdemeanor, or that the wounds were inflicted without a design to effect death, in a heat of passion, in an attempt to resist murder, or self-defense against some great personal injury, of which the accused was in immediate danger. No such proof was given or offered. But since no other human eye witnessed the deed, nor human ear heard anything but a confused sound and a heavy fall, the jury were required to suppose it possible that Adams had assailed the accused, and that the crime was committed in self-defense. Even if this could have been assumed, it must also have been assumed, not only that there were an assault and an affray, but that the accused was in imminent danger, and in the heat of passion, suddenly excited, intense, uncontrollable, and allowing no time for reflection, and that he did not design to produce death, and was unconscious that such a consequence might follow his violence.
But Adams was unarmed. He had never been known to menace the accused or assail any other person. In strength, Adams at most did not excel the accused. If there was an affray, there would probably have been an outcry by one of the parties, unless the first blow terminated the strife by rendering one of them speechless as well as defenseless. If the accused had been in imminent danger, he could possibly have shown wounds or marks of an assault; but he exhibited none. On the contrary, he carefully concealed a small and unimportant discoloration of the skin, accidentally discovered by Caroline M. Henshaw on his neck on the merning after the deed was committed. And even if an affray had been proved, could it be supposed that the passion of the accused had no time to abate, and his mind no time to relent, when the first blow had relieved him from the assailant, and each subsequent blow fell upon an unconscious and unresisting victim?
Whatever was the degree of crime, it was complete when life was extinguished, and could not be changed by the subsequent conduct of the accused. Yet his subsequent conduct was legitimately opened to the jury, for the light it might reflect on the deed he had consummated. The house was filled with tenants from the base to the roof. The narrow room of the accused was separated only by thin folding-doors from an occupied apartment, and looked out on the corner of the streets. Even without leaving the presence of the dying or dead man, the accused could have instantly summoned a multitude; but he invoked no witnesses. On the contrary, according to his own acknowledgment, he closed the only aperture through which he might be observed, stripped the deceased of the clothing by which the person might be identified, and without aid, and almost with superhuman efforts, wrapped the body in canvas, contracted it with a rope, and deposited it in a box three and a half feet in length, and, standing upon the protruding knees, pressed them down by dislocating the limbs, until the box could be closed. After this was done, and night had come, the accused, with hands unaccustomed to such labor, washed the floor, and carefully stained it with oil, and ink, and tobacco, to conceal blood which had been shed. He clandestinely cast the clothing and articles of property found on the person of the deceased, except his watch, into a sink, repaired to a bathing-house and washed the stains from his own dress, and then retired to his lodgings. Early next morning, before the usual hour for going abroad, he returned to the apartment and resumed his efforts to remove the evidences of the fatal transaction. He carefully fastened the box, labeled it with the address of an imaginary person in St. Louis, to the care of imaginary persons in New Orleans, and carefully removed it from his apartment, and caused it to be conveyed to the ship which was expected to depart immediately to that port, and delivered it to the master, and took a receipt for it as for a parcel of merchandise. He had many associates in this city. To none of these persons did he reveal what had happened or what he had done. On the contrary, upon mature reflection, as he says, he avoided his brother, and took counsel only with himself. He gave Caroline M. Henshaw a false explanation of the reasons of his late return on the night succeeding the crime, and of his early absence on the next morning. To the persons who occupied the adjoining rooms he at first denied, and afterward falsely explained, circumstances which had excited snspicions, and day after day, while the friends of the deceased and his fellow-citizens were engaged in anxious inquiries concerning his fate, the accused visited the place where the deceased was accustomed to transact business, and remarked on his mysterious absence like a sympathizing friend.
Nature suggests a mode of proceeding in every exigency, but not the same mode in exigencies so entirely dissimilar as those of guilt of murder, and consciousness of having committed other forms of homicide. Guilt seeks concealment, misfortune sympathy, and innocence vindication. If the homicide had not been felonious, the first impulse of the accused, when he discovered the fatal consequences of his violence, would have been to invoke aid to the sufferer if living, or at least advice or sympathy for himself. If the blood which had been spilled did not accuse the prisoner, he would not have endeavored to remove the stains it left. It seems impossible to suppose that an individual guilty of only such a crime, and exposed to only such hazards, would go on for hours and days accumulating for his own destruction such a mass of the peculiar evidences of murder. . . .
Society has been deeply shocked and justly alarmed for the security of life in the metropolis. A deliverance of the prisoner by Executive clemency would be an encouragement to atrocious crime.
He wrote to Mrs. Seward:
Albany, November 17, 1842.
Now that the last act is done, and only the event remains to be contemplated, I find myself suddenly sinking from a state of excitement. It will never be known, and cannot be conceived, how much I have heard, read, thought, and felt, on that painful subject; and yet how unjust and blind are human sympathies! In the jail at Lockport there is lying a condemned malefactor waiting his death, yet incapable of distinguishing day from night, and thus counting the hours as they carry him along toward an inevitable doom, and no one thinks of him. He is poor, a stranger, and an outcast. Colt has connections, relations, and associations, with the educated class.
I believe you know the substance of his application to me. When the judges refused him a new trial, his friends came with Willis Hall and delivered me several letters. I detained Hall, and spoke freely with him as a friend and former counselor. The next day I learned that he was acting as an advocate. Then Judge Spencer came into town, and called to inform me that Colt was unjustly condemned. Dudley Selden and others met here Lewis Gaylord Clark, and three surgeons from New York, who brought a head and a hatchet, and demonstrated preparatively before the medical faculty of Albany; after which rehearsal they demonstrated to me how Adams might have deserved to be murdered. The next day Robert Emmet, David Graham, Willis Hall, and Samuel Stevens, appeared with witnesses newly discovered. The decision was promulgated on Friday. On Sunday I heard and denied an application for a respite. On Monday I listened to appeals from wandering philanthropists without knowledge; and with especial attention to a phrenological professor who demonstrated that Colt wa» a murderer, but he was so because society had cultivated the wrong bumps; and therefore society ought to be hanged, not he! Yesterday came the application from a seditious meeting of the bar in New York, which was decided and of course overruled. This morning it appears that Colt's counsel have endeavored to intimidate the sheriff, and that all manner of inflammatory appeals have been made to the populace. I think the sheriff will perform his duty; but he has long since entered his protest with me against the execution of the sentence on the ground of the injustice of the verdict. If he refuses, I shall have further and painful duty.
Among the mass of letters appealing in Colt's behalf were many anonymous and some threatening ones. One ran as follows:
You have time to grant a pardon to him whom your prejudices are about to deprive of a life as dear to him as yours is to you. Yes, you have full time, but not the disposition; you thirst for the blood of a fellow-being, and you may drink it to the last drop; but, by the Almighty God, into whose presence you usher a poor soul with a load of sin upon his head, by the hopes I entertain of immortality hereafter, I swear that one who has lived for him, and will at any time die for him, holds you responsible to the very tittle for what may happen to him! Should he suffer an ignominious death, his corpse shall not be interred before your life pays the forfeit, and you follow him to an eternal hell!
You may disbelieve me now, but too soon, perhaps, will death cause you to regret the past. As for Kent, his fate is sealed, provided John C. Colt is hanged. I say Beware!
[Seward:] November 19th.
I must still continue the tragic story that ran through my last. The day after I had refused to depart from the course of the law, an application was made to the Chancellor to reconsider. He denied the same. Colt spent that day (Thursday) in writing, some say a review of my opinion; others say a paper to remain sealed until his child arrives at age. He was particularly disappointed in my second decision. The counsel had procured, strangely enough, the insertion of their protest in the Tribune of Thursday morning; but when it was discovered that public feeling was excited by this dangerous attempt to overawe the sheriff, they suppressed the paper in their city edition, and sent it only into the country. It came back upon them from the country yesterday morning, and roused a very hostile feeling against the Tribune. The warrant directed the execution to take place "between sunrise and sunset." Colt asked that it might be postponed until four o'clock, and the request was acceded to. At twelve o'clock Caroline M. Henshaw visited him, and they were married. A few minutes before four, he asked to be left alone fifteen minutes, and—-
Saturday Night.
I was interrupted in my narrative, which I wrote from verbal intelligence. My letter is delayed, and the newspapers will now tell you the whole. It is a wild and fearful tragedy calculated to disgust us with humanity.
The morning boat had brought the sequel of the tale. Up to eight o'clock on Friday morning, Colt and his friends had been confident that the respite would be obtained; but the sheriff, notwithstanding the protest of Colt's counsel, was reluctantly proceeding with the preparations for the execution. During the morning, Colt's brother and his counsel had passed some time in his cell. In accordance with his request, the execution had been deferred until the last moment; and at noon he was married to Caroline M. Henshaw, by the Rev. Mr. Anthon, who remained with him till two o'clock. Colt, having taken leave of his friends, then requested to be left alone. Just before four o'olock, the sheriff, with his deputy and the clergyman, went to the cell. They found Colt on his bed, with a dirk thrust between his ribs into his heart.
The doctors pronounced him dead. At that moment the cupola of the prison was discovered to be on fire. The cry went out, "Colt has committed suicide, and the Tombs are on fire!" Speedily thousands were added to the thousands already surrounding the prison, whose dome was in flames. Soon the fire was extinguished, and a coroner's inquest was held over the body. The fire was believed to be designed to create such alarm and confusion, at the hour appointed for the execution, as would allow the prisoner's rescue or escape. There was great excitement throughout the city, many theories and stories, that an attempt had been made to bribe the keepers to let Colt escape in female attire; that he had so escaped, and that the body found was one of a dead convict substituted for his own. Great suspicion was, not unreasonably, created by the conduct of the keepers in leaving him alone for an hour and a half.
A day or two later came additional details. When the volume of smoke and flame burst from the cupola, there was a tremendous rush of those inside to get out, and of those outside to get in. The City Hall bell struck the alarm at precisely the hour of execution. The engines were on the ground, but could not reach the cupola, and it burned until the whole was consumed down to the roof. There seemed no good ground for believing it the work of an incendiary. The watchman was in the habit of keeping a fire there, and, on that day, had made a large one, and then went out to see the execution; the stovepipe had become red-hot and set fire to the roof.
The coroner's inquest elicited nothing as to how Colt obtained the knife with which he killed himself. At the inquest, the clergymen, doctors, turnkeys, and the brother and wife of the deceased, were examined; but there was no clew to the knife. The jury rendered a verdict accordingly. The body was given to the friends for interment, and the tragedy closed.
For months afterward, perhaps even for years, there were many who were incredulous of the suicide, and believed Colt to be still living in some foreign land. The Rev. Dr. Anthon published a statement of his interview with Colt; and said he had left him impressed, by his language and behavior, that he was repentant, was prepared for death, and would submit to the sentence. He had believed him when he said that "he wished to be left alone in order that he might pray." Sheriff Hart submitted to the Board of Aldermen an anonymous letter received by him on the 17th, signed W. W. W., inclosing ten one-hundred-dollar bills, asking him to refuse to hang Colt, and saying that an equal amount would be sent to him afterward.
Dr. Hosack, who conducted the post-mortem examination, found that the suicide had been premeditated and arranged with mathematical accuracy. A circle two inches in diameter had been cut out through his clothing, so that nothing might interfere with the knife, and its point penetrated the heart in its centre.
[Seward:] Albany, November 25, 1842.
You need have no concern about the right in Colt's case. Had he died after the manner of a Christian, he could not have raised the least distrust on my part of his being a murderer. After all my efforts to study the case thoroughly, I did not fully realize the size and depth of the wounds. Five mortal wounds with such an instrument, when the first must have deprived his victim of the power to defend or supplicate! Yet I think that, with some reservations, he made himself believe that he was not a murderer, making a definition of murder to suit himself, and in no respect conforming to the law. So he said that he inflicted the death in self-defense; but he was unable to show any form of attack which rendered such a defense necessary. Read his statement to Mr. Anthon; you will see that he spoke only in general terms. He has never given any history of the affray in detail, as an innocent man might.
It is horrible, but not more so for me than to resist the importunities of a poor, forsaken wretch with whom none sympathized, and for whom no efforts were made. But, thank Heaven, I am through with those painful duties!
[...]
----end
Links to the other two volumes of the biography.
William H. Seward: 1846-1861 (New York: Derby and Miller, 1891), link
By William Henry Seward
William H. Seward: 1861-1872 (New York: Derby and Miller, 1891), link
By William Henry Seward
The Seward bio mentions mentions an attempt to bribe Sheriff Hart to not hang Colt. Here is a link to a report of an investigation.
Documents of the Board of Aldermen of the City of New York Volume 9, Nos. 1-120 (1843), Pages 517-532
Document No. 57
Board of Aldermen
December 19, 1842
Report of the Police Committee on the Communication of the Sheriff, Respecting the Bribe of $1000, in the Matter of John C. ColtLeave a comment:
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