Small Lads Confess Murder

1916

Brothers, Aged 11 and 12, Rob and Shoot a Teacher.

BOISE, Idaho. — Lynn and Harold Lovelace, brothers 11 and 12 years old, have confessed to authorities at Twin Falls, Idaho, that they murdered F. Thomas Hamill, a teacher from Carson, Nev., whose body was found at his ranch recently. The lads, first taken into custody as runaways, were found in possession of Hamill's horse and wagon, pocketbook, provisions and eight guns and a revolver. Both have admitted the killing, which occurred when Hamill surprised them robbing his cabin.

He ordered them away, but they retreated into the house and covered him with his own guns. He parleyed and asked for food, and after they came out Lynn stood guard over him while Harold entered the cabin to get him some bread. Hamill grabbed the younger boy, and Harold then shot him in the head.

The boys then left in the wagon and drove 120 miles over a trackless country in six days, camping out at night. They were headed for Lebanon, Oregon, where they say a grandfather lives. The elder boy is moody and shows no regret, but the younger cries now and then and says he is sorry.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 5.

Who's Afraid of Big Bear?

1916

Not This Idaho Woman, Who Shoots One "Thoroly Dead."

BOISE, Idaho — What would you do, Miss or Mrs. Chicago, if you were suddenly confronted alone in the wilds and removed from call of help, by a huge bear?

Faint? Run? Scream?

Mrs. H. L. Walter of Boise, supervisor of the kindergarten at Margaret's Hall and wife of Professor Walter of the high school, was placed in just such a position recently at the Walter camp on Lambing Creek. She was placidly fishing in the creek. Glancing up she saw bruin headed her way under full steam.

She picked up her trusty rifle and proceeded to shoot Mr. Bruin until he was thoroly dead. Her steady aim proved she was not in the least flustrated.

A. B. Zu Tavern of the high school faculty, who tells the story, says he saw a handsome skin hung on the cabin to dry. Its size, he says, tells the story of what might have happened had Mrs. Walter not been a good shot.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 11.