A Friend Indeed.

Michael Gorman's Last Look at Sing Sing Prison.

On October 9, 1888, convicted murderer Michael Gorman walked out of Sing Sing Prison a free man after serving 33 years of a life sentence. Gorman, who entered the prison as a young man, was 60 years old when he was pardoned by New York Governor David Hill. During his incarceration, Gorman lost both parents, two brothers died in the Civil War, and his old friends and family forgot him. But one friend, James Dolan, never gave up on him. Dolan petitioned governors through twelve administrations until finally winning a pardon from Governor Hill.

Michael Gorman’s crime occurred on July 1, 1855, in Brooklyn, New York. Three brothers, Charles, Robert, and William Johnson, along with Patrick McDonough and James Campbell, were walking home around midnight on Raymond Street. They came across three men lying face down in the gutter, apparently passed out drunk. They tried to rouse the men, shaking them and telling them they should go home.

One man, Michael Gorman, jumped up in a rage and said he would go home for no one. He drew a dirk knife from his pocket and stabbed Charles Johnson in the abdomen. He then attacked Robert Johnson, wounding him in the back and abdomen, and stabbed Patrick McDonough in the right thigh.

The cries of the wounded attracted the attention of five police officers from the Fourth District. They hurried to the scene and found the three men on the ground bleeding. Officers Skidmore and Casler chased after Gorman. They managed to secure Gorman after a desperate struggle that left Casler severely injured.

The wounded men were taken to City Hospital. 17-year-old Charles Johnson died later that day. Robert Johnson, 25, died twelve days later.  Patrick McDonough, 18, recovered from his injuries. All of the men on both sides of the melee were Irish immigrants.

Michael Gorman was indicted for the murders of Charles and Robert Johnson. He pled not guilty to both counts. Gorman’s trial for the murder of Charles Johnson began on October 23, 1855, and ended three days later. The jury deliberated for 20 hours but ultimately could not accept Gorman’s plea of self-defense. They found him guilty of murder. The judge sentenced him to hang on December 21.

Friends of Michael Gorman worked to have his sentence commuted to life in prison. They managed to get a respite from the hanging until January 18 while they prepared to petition the Governor. They succeeded on the day before the scheduled hanging when Governor Myron H. Clark agreed to commute Gorman’s sentence to life in Sing Sing Prison.

In the years that followed, Michael Gorman was forgotten by all but his closest friends. Chief among them was James Dolan, a boyhood friend who was born in the same parish in Ireland as Gorman. Dolan never stopped working for his friend's release. In the intervening years, he won the support of hundreds of prominent citizens, including the judge who tried Gorman and the district attorney who prosecuted him. He persuaded Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, America’s most influential clergyman, to plead for Gorman’s release. Dolan petitioned governor after governor with no success until 1888, when Governor David Hill agreed to pardon Michael Gorman.

Governor Hill was initially reluctant, worried the 60-year-old Gorman would be unable to support himself. Dolan signed a bond to provide for his friend the rest of his days. The Governor yielded and granted Gorman’s release.

"I have made up my mind to stop thinking of my prison days and to enjoy the rest of my life as best I can,” Gorman told reporters. 1,200 inmates cheered as the old man walked down the corridors of Sing Sing for the last time and through the door to freedom.

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Sources: 

“Brutal murder in Raymond Street,” Evening Post, July 2, 1855.
“The Commutation of Gorman's Sentence,” Brooklyn Eagle, January 18, 1856.
“Death of Robert Johnson,” CITIZEN., July 14, 1855.
“The End Of A Long Imprisonment,” New-York Tribune., October 9, 1888.
“A Friend Indeed,” Daily Inter Ocean, October 18, 1888.
“The Fulton Avenue Tragedy, Brooklyn,” New York Herald., July 4, 1855.
“Horrid Murder,” New-York Daily Tribune., July 2, 1855.
“Kings County Court of Oyer and Terminer,” New York Herald., October 25, 1855.
“King's County Court of Oyer and Terminer,” New York Herald., September 19, 1855.
“A Lifetime in Prison,” Sun., October 9, 1888.
“Must Be Hung,” New-York Atlas., December 16, 1855.
“News Article,” New York Herald., December 27, 1855.
“No More Thought of Prison,” evening world., October 10, 1888.
“Released From Prison,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, October 27, 1888.
“Respite,” Albany Journal, December 20, 1855.
“Sentence of Death Commuted,” The Sun, January 19, 1856.

Femmes Fatales.

 

Nellie and Fanny.

Nelly Dalton and Fanny Coburn, two young Boston women, were out on the town one autumn afternoon in 1855. They met and flirted with William Sumner and Josiah Porter, two promising young college graduates. Though both women were married, they arranged to see the boys again.

Nelly and William embarked on a heartfelt correspondence. Their amorous letters sometimes included romantic poetry. Everything was fine until Mr. Dalton found the letters.

Benjamin Dalton told Edward Coburn about Nellie's dalliance with William Sumner and Coburn's wife's flirtation with Josiah Porter. The husbands enticed the boys to Dalton's home, where they severely beat them. When they were satisfied, they kicked them out the back door.

Porter lived to file charges against Dalton and Coburn, but William Sumner died a few days later. A victim of the femmes fatales. 

Read the full story here: Erring Wives and Jealous Husbands.

The Murderer's Attack on His Mother.

Frank Gouldy was a wild and restless young man. Unable to hold a job, he lived in idleness and dissipation in his father’s house. He was sometimes pleasant to his brothers and sisters but more often morose and vengeful, with an uncontrollable temper.

Frank came home at about ten o’clock on October 26, 1858, and his father reprimanded him about money he had taken. Frank responded with “a low chuckling laugh, full of moaning and fiendish wickedness.” He entered his stepmother's room, and as she lay in bed, he hit her several times on the head with a dull hatchet. She rose up, trying to ward off the blows, then fell to the floor. He continued his violent spree, leaving three family members wounded and one servant dead.

Read the full story here: The Thirtieth Street Murder.

Elizabeth and Arthur.

Elizabeth and Arthur Ragan.

As Arthur Ragan lay dying of a stomach ailment in Piqua, Ohio, on April 3, 1855, his wife, Elizabeth, took the physician aside and told him she believed her husband had poisoned himself. She said she thought the cream of tartar he had been taking for his stomach was actually arsenic. Mr. Ragan died that day, and a post-mortem examination proved his wife correct, he had died of arsenic poisoning. However, there were reasons to believe that Arthur Ragan had not committed suicide, and suspicion fell on Elizabeth as his murderer.

Read the full story here: Love and Arsenic.

Jacob S. Harden.

Reverend Jacob S. Harden felt he had been roped into an unhappy marriage by Louisa Dorland and her conniving parents. His new wife threatened his promising career and put a damper on his active social life as well. When the young bride passed away mysteriously, Harden acted like a guilty man but professed innocence almost to the end.

Read the full story here: The Confession of Jacob Harden.

Bartholomew Burke's Murder.

On July 18, 1856, the naked body of Bartholomew Burke was found on the floor of the New York tailor shop where he worked. His skull was fractured, and his throat slashed; the floor and walls were covered with blood. Despite a large reward offered for information, the police found no motive for the murder and no suspects to arrest. Bartholomew Burke’s murder remains one of the city’s great unsolved crimes.

Read the full story here: Horrible and Mysterious Murder.

The Dansville Poisoning Case.

David J. Wood and his wife Rhoda lived happily in Dansville, New York until David's younger brother Isaac came to live with them. In 1855, David died of a mysterious illness. Rhoda died the same way a few days later, and Isaac took control of their estate. When the coroner determined that the Woods died of arsenic poisoning, Isaac was arrested and convicted of Rhoda's murder.

The newspapers called Isaac L. Wood's hanging in 1858 a "theatrical execution." Sixty witnesses viewed the hanging inside the Genesee jail, while 500 spectators waited outside. Two military companies maintained order, and a band was playing. Wood's long-winded, self-righteous last words added to the drama.

Read the full story here:

A Theatrical Execution.

Sarah Jane Gould.

Everyone in Canton, New York, learned to distrust James E. Eldredge, except his fiancé, Sarah Jane Gould.  Sarah Jane remained trusting till the end, when Eldredge poisoned her to pursue her younger sister, Helen.

Read the full story here: James E. Eldredge

Erring Wives and Jealous Husbands.

One afternoon in the Autumn of 1855, two young men were drinking coffee at Vinton’s, a Boston confectionary saloon. Both were bright and respectable, with promising futures. William Sumner, age 19, was a cousin of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner and had recently completed a course of mercantile studies, preparing to enter his brother’s ship chandlery business. His friend, Josiah Porter, was a Harvard graduate and a lieutenant in the City Guards.

A pair of attractive young ladies sat down at the table next to them. Nelly Dalton and Fanny Coburn were sisters, the daughters of John Gove, who owned a clothing store in Boston. Fanny recognized Mr. Porter and reminded him they had been introduced at a ball for the City Guards the previous February. The four struck up a conversation, and although both ladies were married, they became quite flirtatious. Before they left, they told the men that they often came to Vinton’s and hoped they would see them there again.

Phrenological Character of Reuben Dunbar.

Reuben Dunbar murdered his two young stepbrothers to protect his inheritance. The root cause of his problem, said phrenologists in 1851, was the shape and size of his head. He had “an unfortunate organization” in which his moral faculties were not sufficiently large to balance his animal propensities.

Read the full story here:  An Unfortunate Organization.

Tragedy on 30th Street.

Residents of West 30th Street, New York City, were startled on the night of October 26, 1858, when a servant ran from the house in her nightclothes, screaming, “Help! Help! Oh, my God! Frank is murdering the whole family. Rouse the neighbors!”

Read the full story here: The Thirtieth Street Murder.

Veiled Murderess!

Despite the judge’s admonitions, Henrietta Robinson covered her face with a black veil as she stood trial for murder. Everything about the defendant was a mystery—her motive for murder, her behavior before and after the crime, and even her true identity. It was well known that “Henrietta Robinson” was an assumed name, but who she really was has never been determined.

Read the full story here: The Veiled Murderess.

James E. Eldredge.

James E. Eldredge

James E. Eldredge left his home in Canton, New York in the spring of 1856. He returned six months later with a new name and a duplicitous personality to match. All those around him soon learned to distrust anything the young man said—all except his fiancé, Sarah Jane Gould. She remained trusting to the end, when Eldredge poisoned Sarah Jane to pursue her younger sister.

A Theatrical Execution.

David J. Wood owned a thriving leather and shoe business in Dansville, New York, in the 1850s. He and his wife Rhoda were busy raising two children but found time to be active in church and civic events, always willing to donate their time and money to better the community. They were wealthy, prominent, and well-liked citizens of Dansville, living a perfect life—until the arrival of David’s brother Isaac.

Isaac L. Wood was 34 years old in 1854, when he left his home in New Jersey, hoping to start a new life with David’s help. Isaac was only eight years old when David left the family home in New Providence, New Jersey. The two brothers had not been close, but David was happy to give Isaac a helping hand, loaning him money to buy a small piece of land. Isaac began farming, making payments to his brother when he could. 

But Farming did not suit Isaac, and within a year, he gave it up and went to live in his brother’s house. He embarked on a career speculating in fruits, butter, eggs, and other produce. It was widely known in Dansville that David was still helping him out with loans and endorsements. 

The Wakemanite Murder.

In 1855 a religious sect known as the Wakemanites met regularly at the home of Samuel Sly in New Haven, Connecticut. The Wakemanites were follower of Mrs. Rhoda Wakeman who had been chosen by the Lord to prepare the faithful for the return of Christ and the new Millennium.

69-year-old Rhoda Wakeman had previously lived in Greenfield, Connecticut with an abusive husband. Some 30 years earlier, Mr. Wakeman had beaten her so badly that, according to Mrs. Wakeman, he killed her. Two angels stood beside her and when they touched her with their bright swords she rose from the cloud of death and went to heaven.  She saw Christ, in his crown of thorns and with nails in his hands and he spoke peace to her soul. She saw God sitting upon his throne in all his glory surrounded by angels in white robes. Then a spirit took her to earth where she saw her dead body lying on the floor and she knew she had come back to this wicked world to live again. She had been dead for seven hours but rose again. From that point on she would communicate directly with God as she pursued her task of preparing the world for the second coming. 

When her husband died, she moved to New Haven where she was known as Widow Wakeman. She lived with her half-brother, Samuel Sly (aka Elder Sly), and gathered followers who met at his house to hear her message. They called themselves Wakemanites and called their leader The Prophetess. While the Wakemanites never numbered more than a dozen or so, they were true believers and devoted servants of The Prophetess.

In December 1855, Mrs. Wakeman began suffering from severe bodily pains. She knew exactly what caused the pains; one of her followers had stopped coming to meetings because he had become possed by an evil spirit. This evil spirt was not only a source of pain for The Prophetess but was also a great obstacle to the immediate commencement of the millennium. Moreover, if she should die as a result, her death would be followed by the general judgement and destruction of the world without any millennium.

The Wakemanites understood the urgency and set about to rid Mathews of his evil spirt. One of the followers, Polly Sanford, was Justus Mathews’ brother; she went with her husband, Almeron Sanford to discuss the matter with Mathews and convince him to come to a meeting on Sunday, December 23. The group had been praying and singing since 2:00 that afternoon and Mathews arrived some time after 9:00 pm. He expressed a desire to be relieved of the evil spirit which afflicted him, and through him, afflicted others, especially The Prophetess. 

Polly Sanford tied a handkerchief over his eyes to diminish the power of the spirit and to prevent Mathews from enchanting anyone with his eyes. She tied his hands behind his back, “as they would the devil.” Then she left him alone and went upstairs to pray with the others. The meeting went on until 2:00 am and Mathews was visited at intervals by one or more of the company to beseech him to give up the evil one. They told him it would be better that he should die than that Mrs. Wakeman should be afflicted unto death and the world destroyed. He reportedly expressed a willingness to die. Eventually they all went home without checking any further on Mathews.

Justus Mathews never came home that night and the next morning his son went looking for him. He went to Sly’s house and when no one answered the door he broke it open. He found his father lying on the floor with pools of blood surrounding his head. His throat had been cut from ear to ear and his head nearly severed from his body. A small rope was found on the floor and marks on his wrists showed that he had been bound and his abdomen was covered with puncture wounds as if he had been stabbed with a table fork. The boy immediately raised the alarm.

Later that day a coroner’s jury was convened and many of those at the meeting gave evidence. They testified to the belief that if Mrs. Wakeman should die the world would be destroyed. They believed that Justus Mathews had killed himself to be rid of the evil spirit. Several Walemanites were arrested and charged with committing or in some way being accessory to the crime—Israel Wooding, Almeron and Polly Sanford, Abigail Sables, Thankful S. Hersey, Widow Wakeman, Samuel Sly, and Josiah Jackson.

On Wednesday, Samuel Sly confessed to the murder. He said his sister had been so distressed by the bad spirit in Mathews that he knew something must be done to remove it. As people were preparing to leave, Sly went into the front room where Mathews was sitting and locked the door. He struck the blindfolded man in the temple with a two-foot club of hazel wood knocking him to the floor, then struck him several more times with the club. He took out his pocketknife with its two-inch blade, commenced to cutting Mathews’ throat. Then he mutilated the corpse with a fork. 

He went to Thankful Hersey, who had a room in the house, and she brought him a basin of water to wash off the blood. They tore up his bloody shirt and burned it in Miss Hersey’s stove. He broke the club into three pieces and threw it along with his knife, into the privy vault.

That April, Samuel Sly, Widow Wakeman, and Thankful Hersey were tried for the murder of Justus W. Mathews. None of the Wakemanites who testified had wavered in their belief that Mathews had been possessed by an evil spirit and had to die to save the world. The verdict was not guilty on the ground of insanity and the defendants were sent to the Insane Retreat in Hartford, Connecticut.

This was not the last murder connected to the Wakemanites, here is the story of Justus Mathew's maniac nephew: Murdered by a Maniac

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Sources:
“Effects of Fanaticism,” Examiner and Chronicle, January 3, 1856.
“Horrible Ignorance and Superstition,” Portland Weekly Advertiser, January 1, 1856.
“A Most Horrible Murder! One of the isms.,” National Aegis, January 2, 1856.
“The New Haven Tragedy,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, January 12, 1856.
“The Wakemanites,” Manchester Daily Mirror, April 24, 1856.
“The Wakemanites,” New York Evangelist, April 24, 1856.

The Trial of Daniel E. Sickles.

Daniel E. Sickles is best known today as a Union General who lost a leg in the Battle of Gettysburg, but before the war he had gained national notoriety as the U.S. Congressman who murdered  Philip Barton Key, son of Francis Scott Key, in Lafayette Square in Washington D.C. At his trial in April 1859, Sickles was found not guilty by reason of temporary insanity—the first successful use of this defense in the United States. The excitement generated by the trial of Daniel Sickles can be seen in this illustration from the centerfold of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, April 9, 1859.

Read the story of the murder here:

Dan Sickles's Temporary Insanity

Horrible and Mysterious Murder.

Employees of Samuel Joyce’s tailor shop at 378 Broadway, in New York City, were surprised to find the door of the shop locked when they arrived on the morning of July 18, 1856. Bartholomew Burke, the porter, slept in the shop and had never before failed to rise early and unlock the door. As the clerk stood outside puzzled at the situation, he caught sight of a faint bloodstain on the door handle. Fearing foul play, he ran for a police officer.

Seeing the blood on the handle, the officer wasted no time before kicking in the locked door. What he found inside was a nightmare scene—the floor and walls were covered with blood, and in a corner, near the washbasin was the naked body of Bartholomew Burke, slashed and horribly mangled.  His throat had been cut nearly from ear to ear, and on the right side of his forehead was a fracture about six inches in length. On the floor near the body was a large pressing iron which probably delivered the head wound. On the dead man's cot was a sword scabbard and on a case twenty feet away was the sword itself, wrapped in a bloody cloth. Also, on the floor was a pair of large tailor’s shears which may have been used by Burke trying to fight off his attacker. He was lying on his back with his arms up and fists clenched. There were signs of a severe struggle that must have lasted at least ten minutes.

The motive of the murder was a complete mystery. The first thought was that Burke had fought to defend his employer’s merchandise, but a quick inventory showed that nothing from the shop had been taken. A gold watch that Burke usually wore and the keys to the shop were missing but nothing else. Burke was known to have saved $900, but that remained safely in a bank account. Robbery was ruled out as a motive for the murder.

Bartholomew (aka Patrick) Burke was an Irish immigrant in his early 30s who had worked in the tailor shop for about five years. He was a quiet man with few close friends and was not known to have ever had a disagreement with anyone.  His one vice was a fondness for drink. Dr. Erasmus D. Hudson, whose office was on the same floor as the tailor shop, had once convinced Burke to take a pledge of sobriety, but he would still occasionally go out on a drunken spree. After one such episode, the doctor treated Burke who was in a state bordering on delirium tremens. 

The shop was in a three-story building on the corner of Broadway and White Street. On the first floor was a saddle maker, on the second, were the tailor shop and doctor’s office, and on the third was the residence of John Cabellos and family. In the basement of the building was a saloon where Burke had been drinking the night his murder.

About 9:30 that night, Burke was seen in the saloon drinking with an unknown man. Burke purchased a pot of beer—the third quart he had bought that night—and the two men left with the beer. A woman who sold apples at a stand on Broadway and White saw Burke through a window of the tailor shop at about 11:30, conversing with another man whom she did not recognize. She was the last person, other than the killer, to see him alive.

Evidence at the Coroner’s inquest, held two days after the body was found, was vague and sometimes contradictory. Though the struggle must have been loud and prolonged, no one in the Cabello household in the apartment above had heard a thing. The Cabellos’ servant girl, Harora Leahy, had seen a man knocking on the tailor shop door at about 9:30 but had not seen his face. She heard nothing after that. 

George Benjamin Hooker had heard loud talking from the tailor shop on Tuesday or Wednesday preceding the murder. Through the window, he saw Burke talking with a coworker,  August Reiche (both of whom he recognized and knew by name). Reiche was angry and hit the counter with his fist. Samuel Adams had seen the same thing from his window on White Street, but also could not state whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday.

Mr. Watson, foreman at Joyce’s shop, had been talking with Burke on Wednesday, remonstrating him about keeping bad company. He said Reiche was not in the store that evening. Bartholomew Burke’s cousin, Thomas Burke, had also seen him on Wednesday night at the bar, drinking with the owner, the bartender and a strange man. He said his cousin had told him that August Reiche was his best friend and his family had always been kind to him. Reiche himself testified that he had not been at the shop any evening that week, had never had angry words with Burke or shaken his fist at him.

William Mars, who tended bar in the basement saloon, said that about 11:00 on the night of the murder, a man came into the bar, called for a drink, and refused to pay for it. He eventually paid but picked up a sixteen-inch knife used for cutting ham in the bar and flourished it in a threatening manner. He left the saloon, still in possession of the knife.

It was never clear whether Burke was killed by the mysterious man seen by various witnesses or even whether they all saw the same man. With no identifiable suspect and no convincing story of the murder, the Coroner’s jury ruled that Bartholomew Burke was murdered by a person or persons unknown. The mayor of New York offered a reward of $500 for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Burke’s killer, but the reward was never collected. The murder of Bartholomew Burke remains one of the city’s great unsolved crimes.

---

Sources:
“A Bloody and Atrocious Murder,” Centinel of Freedom, July 22, 1856.
“The Broadway Murder,” The New York Times, July 23, 1856.
“The Broadway Murder Continuation of the Coroner's Investigation the Assassin Still at Large,” New York Herald, July 22, 1856.
Crapsey, Edward, The Nether Side of New York (: Sheldon & Co., 1872.
), 171
“Five Hundred Dollars Reward,” The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 23, 1856.
“Horrible and Mysterious Murder in Broadway,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, August 2, 1856.
“The Late Murder in Broadway,” New-York Tribune, July 21, 1856.
“News Article,” Daily True American, August 2, 1856.
“A Pleasant Condition of Affairs,” Daily True American, May 16, 1857.

Love and Arsenic.

Elizabeth Ragan

As Arthur Ragan lay dying of a stomach ailment, in Piqua, Ohio, on April 3, 1855, his wife, Elizabeth took the physician aside and told him she believed her husband had poisoned himself. She said she thought the cream of tartar he had been taking for his stomach was actually arsenic. Mr. Ragan died that day, and a post-mortem examination proved his wife correct, he had died of arsenic poisoning. However, there were reasons to believe that Arthur Ragan had not committed suicide, and suspicion fell on Elizabeth as his murderer.

After Ragan’s death the postmaster of Colesville, Ohio, came forward with a highly incriminating letter. The previous December, the letter had, by mistake, been given to a man named Murray. When Murray read it and realized it was not for him, he returned it to the post office. The letter had been intended for James Mowrey, and the postmaster made sure it was delivered correctly, but the contents had been so disturbing that he first made a copy which he turned over to the police:

Revisiting the Goffle Road Murders.

This week’s guest post revisits the Goffle Road Murders posted here several years ago. Don Everett Smith Jr., who literally wrote the book on this crime (The Goffle Road Murders of Passaic County (History Press, 2011)), expands on the story of the murders and subsequent execution of the killer.

Don lives in Central Pennsylvania with his wife and cats and tortoise, Flash. He has published works at Tombstone Stories Publishing and comic books at Pinion Comics. Don also hosts his podcast "Conversations of the Strange" where he interviews horror and paranormal creators and icons. 

Revisiting the Goffle Road Murders 
By Don Everett Smith Jr.  

INTRODUCTION: 

It was on June 4th, 2011 that “Murder by Gaslight” posted an article about the 1850 murders of John and Jane Van Winkle in, what is now, Hawthorne, New Jersey. The post was entitled, “Terrible Tragedy in New Jersey.” 

The blog posted the text of an article from The Republican Compiler from Gettysburg, Pennsylvania which was dated January 28th, 1850.   

I had come across this same article when I researched a book about the Van Winkles entitled THE GOFFLE ROAD MURDERS OF PASSAIC COUNTY: THE 1850 VAN WINKLE KILLINGS. It was published in 2011 from The History Press (now part of Arcadia Publishing).

When I finished my research on the Van Winkle murders, I thought that I had found everything there was about the subject. 

In the following years, my wife and I moved out of New Jersey and into central Pennsylvania. I was able to pick up extra work as a freelance writer and I began writing articles about local Pennsylvania history. I discovered thanks to an increased interest in local history and genealogy (not just in Pennsylvania but all over), more and more newspapers and political records were uploaded to the internet. 

Curious to see what was out there regarding the Van Winkles, I did a simple search and found more information.  

I reached out to the kind people at “Murder by Gaslight” and they allowed me to put together an article which featured the new information I discovered. 

MURDER & EXECUTION: 

What is now Hawthorne was once part of a larger town called Manchester. John and Jane Van Winkle owned over 212 acres and Van Winkle served as a judge of the common pleas in Passaic County and a grist miller. 

It was just after 1 a.m., on January 9th, 1850, when the Van Winkles were in bed. Their former ranch hand, a Liverpool native named John Jonston crept into their sleeping quarters. 

He struck Mrs. Van Winkle in the face - twice - with a hatchet which awakened the Judge. He immediately leapt from the bed and struggled with Jonston. 

The attacker had a large knife and struck the older man in the stomach and ripped open his abdomen thus exposing his intestines.  

“Murder! Murder!” Van Winkle screamed as Jonston rushed out of the room. He ran up a flight of stairs and down a ladder. Upon hitting the ground he ran to what is now called Rock Road in Godwinville (today Glen Rock, New Jersey). He hoped to grab a train and head to New York City and anonymity. 

However, thanks to a light snowfall, a group of neighbors tracked his footprints and captured him.

Jonston “was taken in custody and tied at once” to prevent him from escaping. 

“Members of the party remarked about the blood on his back, [Jonston] said he had been killing hogs, and the blood came from them as he carried them in from the place where they were killed. The blood was so fresh on his shirt that [a] woman squeezed it out upon her hand,” was said.

Jonston was brought back to the Judge’s homestead.

“Mr. Van Winkle, who was dying, looked on the man, while holding his bowels from falling through a ghastly wound in the abdomen, and had still strength enough left to say, ‘Yes, it was he’,” a newspaper recorded in the January 16th, 1850 edition of The Paterson Intelligencer.

Jonston denied it and was taken into custody by Passaic County Sheriff Nathaniel Lane, a tall man who had taken part in the Underground Railroad.  

Van Winkle would linger until about 6 p.m. that night when he passed from his injuries. Jane had died instantly of her wounds earlier that morning. 

The court appointed Socrates Tuttle to defend Jonston. With such damning evidence, Jonston was convicted and executed on April 30th, 1850. He had the dubious double honor of being the first murderer and the first man executed in Passaic County.    

A reporter from the Newark Daily Advertiser described Jonston’s last word in the May 1st, 1850 edition:

 “[T]he years 1830 and 1850 would be long remembered: that he arrived here from Liverpool in 1830, and that in regard to his present position he was not guilty of the crime for which he was about to suffer, but that he forgave all the world.”

Local newspaper sources described how after Lane “made final adjustments to the machine, he pulled the cap over Jonston’s face and placed the rope around his neck. “In less than a minute,” Lane threw the lever, “and the victim swung in the air.” Jonston “struggled...somewhat for a few minutes, raised himself up with a spasmodic, muscular action a few times, and [after] about five minutes…all signs of life left him.”

It was added that “after hanging for half an hour, he was ‘black about the hands as an African.’ Jonston’s coffin was brought to him, and ‘all that was left of Jonston, was gently lowered into his narrow bed’.”

As for the Van Winkle estate, the house, where the judge and his wife were murdered, still stands in the heart of Hawthorne, New Jersey. The exterior looks very much like it did back in the 1850s.

The part of the house where the Van Winkles lived was closed off. In fact, The New York Times recorded on Aug. 15, 1882 that it, “was locked and barred” for over 32 years. It went on to describe that “vines had grown so thickly around the doors and windows.” 

However, the more salacious aspect of the article mentioned that “no one seeming disposed to lease the valuable and beautiful property on account of the stories prevalent about its being the abode of unearthly visitants.”  

EXECUTION REVISITED: 

To give a complete picture of the execution, a writer for the New York Daily Herald described, in the May 1st, 1850 issue, that the “morning was clear and beautiful, the sun rising on the hills of Paterson in all its majesty, shedding its radiant beams of glory as it had often done before.”  

However the residents felt a “gloom manifest...intermixed with a kind of pleasing unsettled expectation that something desparate or terrible was about to take place” as “Dutch farmers were pouring into town from all quarters from many miles distant.”  

“Everybody appeared to be anxious to witness a man pay the extreme penalty of the law by the forfeiture of his life on the gallows,” the writer said.  

The report described that the “beaus and the belles were dressed up in their Sunday-go-to-meetings.” 

The jail yard was surrounded by a 15 foot high fence, as well as members of the Jefferson Blues were on hand to help keep the peace as they made “quite an imposing appearance.”  The yard would hold an estimated 2,000 residents.  

In the center was the gruesome structure. When The Goffle Road Murders was written, I did not have access to the articles that gave a fuller description of the gallows themselves. 

“The gallows was made by two strong supports and a beam on the top, through the center of which was the rope and pulley. The weights being made to drop on the cutting a small rope, and, in reverse, the man goes up,” the writer described.  

What is interesting about this, is that it resembled the gallows built to execute Antoine LeBlanc in Morristown, New Jersey in 1833. 

This is technically called the “upright jerker” method of execution. Most gallows used a trapdoor method of the criminal dropping to his death. However, the upright jerk method involves a weight tied to a rope, fed up through a pulley system and tied to the noose connected around the neck of the condemned. 

When the weight drops, it jerks the criminal straight up. Ideally this method would break the neck of the criminal quickly.  

Thanks to a quick search online, and some direction by writer and historian Robert Damon Schneck, I was able to find this drawing here.  

However, due to the fuzziness of it, I have decided to reproduce it. 

It was mentioned in my book that there were crowds and jeers, but in this article, it described several women wanting to get a closer look at the gallows. However, Lane refused. 

At the same time this occurred, the crowd began to get restless. It was reported that persons shouted, “Bring him out!” while another person shouted, “Let’s have it over - we want to see him up!”  

At 11 a.m., a shed that held over 150 people collapsed due to overload. 

“Luckily no bones were broken, (it was) only barked shins and scratched faces,” the article said. 

Before Jonston was led out, William E. Robinson, a correspondent for The New York Tribune spoke to Jonston. Under the pseudonym “Richelieu,” he described how “a few minutes before (Jonston) was led out I visited his cell.”  

“He was quite calm, and persisted in asserting his innocence,” Robinson said.   

Within the half hour, Jonston came out dressed “in a white muslin dress, in the Turkish costume; the bottom of the pantaloons, his sleeves and neck were tied with black ribbon.” 

All the other sources, as did the “Herald” writer, mentioned that his arms were strapped to his body with a leather belt.  

The Herald reporter was able to visit with Jonston the night before: 

“Our reporter visited the prisoner in his cell. The unfortunate and miserable creature was, at this time, dressed for execution; he appeared to be calm and collected, and walked backwards and forwards, holding in one hand a pocket handkerchief. He is a man of small stature, about 5 feet 5 inches, stout made, with rather a mild, smiling cast of countenance, dark hair and eyes, English expression, an Englishman by birth, aged 35 years.”

The reporter and Jonston “conversed freely.” 

“He said his parents were dead, and that he had a brother in England, but he did not wish him to know his fate; he said he was satisfied and pleased to leave this world, as he made his peace with his God,” the writer said.  

As Jonston stood on the gallows, Cornelius Van Winkle, “the son of the murdered man (and woman), placed himself, in order to watch every movement of the culprit.” Just pure speculation here, but “every movement” could mean “twitch” or “struggle”. 

Cornelius had hoped to “hear if (Jonston) made any confession, as it was expected he would at last, when under the gallows, confess his guilt.” 

It was just after 1 p.m. when prayers were said, Bible passages were read and Jonston made his final statement. 

“I have only to express a few words, gentlemen. April 30, 1850, will long be remembered. It is not my duty to say much. I have been judged guilty of the crime. I forgive the whole world; I have no fault to God. I know I must die and I die in faith and in hope to be forgiven of all the sins I have been guilty. I am innocent of this; and I have nothing to say that is my situation. I have made my peace with my God. I am innocent; I have no interest in saying so; I know I am going to die, therefore I have no interest,” Jonston said in a low tone. 

He continued. 

“All have behaved well and clever to me since I came here to this place. I am freely willing to part from this world; it is a pleasure to me in my situation. I cannot say anything more in my situation that I know of, and I hope, by the blessing of the Almighty, that my peace is made with him. I don’t wish my friends to know about it, but they will not believe it, without they hear it from someone who knows the circumstances. After my trial, I saw there was no hope. I am ready to die and meet my God. Amen.”

Allow for some facts to be restated - it was on Jan. 9th, 1850, tracks were left in the snow leading away from the Van Winkle homestead after the attack. The tracks were followed and they lead straight to Jonston at a train station in (what was) Godwinville. He had with him a shirt covered in blood. Remember that blood was so thick, a woman was able to ring it out like a dish cloth after washing a sink full of dinner dishes.  

It could only be imagined how poor Cornelius Van Winkle felt upon this condescending denial. Cornelius proved himself a man of restraint for not rushing the gallows at the “I forgive the whole world” and throttling the Liverpoolman himself.  

Apparently even the Reverend on scene didn’t believe Jonston either.  

“Rev. Mr. Hornblower most earnestly requested him to make a confession; that if he had any hope, he must confess his sins, and if he wished for salvation hereafter, he must not die with a lie on his lips,” the reporter said.  

Jonston again denied his part in the death of the Van Winkles.  

At this point Lane “adjusted the rope about (Jonston’s) neck; but upon endeavoring to attach it to the upper rope, (Lane) found it too short.”  

“Here an awful suspense took place, of near ten minutes, before a bench could be procured; and a deathlike silence pervaded the whole assemblage,” the writer said.  

The bench was placed on the platform “and the culprit stepped on it, making him of sufficient height.” The rope was adjusted, the white cap Jonston had on top of his head was placed upon his face. 

“The (previously mentioned small) rope cut, and, in an instant, the murderer was suspended in the air, by the neck, an awful spectacle and warning to all who take the life of a fellow being unlawfully,” as was recorded. “The culprit...gave several convulsive movements of the legs and body, and all was over.”  

His time of death was about 1:20 p.m. and he hung there until 2 p.m. 

LEGACY: 

It is discussed in The Goffle Road Murders what occurred with the remains of the judge and his wife and their estate. 

However, an interesting fact was discovered about relics associated with the Van Winkle murders. In an article in The Morning Call (of Paterson, New Jersey) dated May 4th, 1911, “curious visitors” were attracted to a “collection of horrors at (the) Prosecutor’s Offices.”  

“It is just becoming known that the court house has a chamber of horrors as gruesome as any of the subterranean compartments and pits described by Poe in his talks of mysterious murders,” a Call reporter said. “The store-room of everything that is likely to cause one to shudder with fear, forms part of the prosecutor’s headquarters in the county building.”  

The writer described a “cabinet with large glass doors (which exhibits) such things as hangman’s nooses, skulls of murdered people, shot guns, revolvers, knives which were used in slaying people, lock-picks, files, dark lanterns, baseball bats, stuffed clubs, forks, razors , and innumerable other implements used in battles for life and death.” 

It was said that all of this was “evidence of work done in the line of suppressing crime in Passaic county.”  

Counting Jonston, five men were hung for murder between 1850 and 1906. Eventually, death penalties were carried out in Trenton, New Jersey via electric chair. In the previously mentioned cabinet, photographs and the nooses used in the last four hangings were on display.  

 “Under the above exhibit is the knife used by (John Jonston), who paid the death penalty for the murder of Judge John Van Winkle and his wife,” the writer said.  

He added, “The knife which he (Jonston) used was given into the custody of William G. Gourley when he was prosecutor, by Nathaniel Lane, son of the late Sheriff Lane.”  

The rest of the article goes on to discuss other items related to crimes, killings and murder. 

Granted this article is almost 110 years old, it could only be speculated as to what has happened to the items mentioned here. In all candor, an opportunity has not availed itself as of now, to investigate the location or existence of the knife.  

However, this article is proof that with some patience and research some amazing things can be uncovered. I, for one, will remain positive.

The Thirtieth Street Murder.

Residents of West 30th Street, New York City, were startled on the night of October 26, 1858, by the cries of Elizabeth Carr, a servant of the Gouldy family as she ran from the house in her nightclothes, screaming, “Help! Help! Oh, my God! Frank is murdering the whole family. Rouse the neighbors!”

The neighbors, accompanied by several policemen responded by entering the Gouldy home where they found Mrs. Gouldy at the foot of the stairs, staggering and calling for help. She was bleeding from the head, as was her husband, Francis Gouldy, who lay on the floor not moving. Also suffering from head wounds were 11-year-old Nathaniel Gouldy, 7-year-old Charlie Gouldy, and Joanna Murphy, another of the Gouldy’s servant girls. All were alive but semi-conscious. The perpetrator of the crime, Frank Gouldy was found in his room, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.