Jury Acquits Girl On Slaying Charge

1920 (actually happened in 1919)

16-Year-Old Defendant Plans To Resume School

Clara Bartel's Plea That She Slew Father in Family Defense Wins Freedom

DOYLESTOWN, Pa. — The plea of Clara Bartel, the 16-year-old girl accused of the murder of her father, Charles Bartel, that she had killed him in defending the lives of her mother and her sisters resulted in her acquittal by a jury here after only 20 minutes' deliberation.

The defendant burst into tears when the foreman of the jury announced the verdict. She swayed as if about to fall, and Mrs. Charles R. Nightingale, the probation officer who has taken care of her since her arrest, caught her in her arms. Then the crowd in the courtroom surged about her, showering her with congratulations.

Clara threw her arms about J. Hibbs Buckman, her chief attorney, and sobbed on his shoulder.

"Oh, I am so glad," she said. "Now I can help take care of mother."

Warns Against Sympathy

Judge William C. Ryan occupied thirty-five minutes in his charge to the jury.

"We have all been moved by the pathos of this case and story of the dark tragedy," said the court. "But it is your duty to render a verdict unaffected by the sympathy for this defendant of tender [years.] If she acted in [self-]defense or in defense of her mother, she would not be guilty of this offense."

"I shot my father. I had to do it to save us all."

That was the girl's first statement as she took the stand in her own defense at her trial for the murder of her father at their home near Edgewood, Bucks County, on the morning of August 22.

Three jurors wept openly as the girl told her story of a father who, she averred, abused her mother, herself and the other small children.

Bartel's aged mother, Mrs. Amelia Bartel, 81 years old, said Clara told her: "Grandma, I killed him. I had to do it to save us."

Says Father Beat Her

Under direct examination she told of finding a bundle of letters written by another woman to her father hidden in the peak of the barn. She testified that she read the letters and kept them for several days and finally showed them to her mother. For this her father beat her, she said.

After she had been given a medal for selling Liberty Bonds, she said, her father said he was "going to kill her" and expressed the hope that "they sink every d—n American." She also told of several instances when Bartel had threatened to kill her and her mother.

One night, she said, her father ordered her to go out into the barnyard and find a stick with which he drove his hogs. She told of his beating her mother the morning of the shooting and also chasing her downstairs, shouting, "I am going to kill the whole d—n lot of you and do it now!" She said he went to the place where the guns were usually kept, but they were not there. Then, she said, she ran into another room and got a shotgun and, closing her eyes, pointed it at her father, not knowing it was loaded. The gun was discharged and the shot tore thru her father's body.

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 3.

Note: Two words in brackets are supplied because of breaks in the paper and so they're missing. Of course they're obvious to the context.

The Hand Upon the Jail Wall

1896

Upon the wall of cell No. 7, in the County Jail at Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania, is the imprint of a man's hand, which would not attract attention were it not for the strange story connected with it — a story which can be vouched for by many of the town's citizens.

Alexander Campbell, of Lansford, was an occupant of the cell in June, 1877. The Mollie Maguires were holding their reign of terror throughout the coal regions at that time and he was arrested and sentenced to be hanged in connection with the murder of John P. Jones. He stoutly asserted his innocence, and it was only through the confessions of his comrades in crime that he was convicted. The night before he was hanged he stood on his cot, and, it is said, placing his hand upon the wall, he declared that in proof of his innocence the imprint would remain upon the wall forever. The impression of the hand can be as plainly seen now as if placed there yesterday, though the walls have been whitewashed often.

The phenomenon has been viewed by many, but none of them has been able to suggest a plausible solution of the mystery.

The cell is regarded with awe by the prisoners in the jail, and if any of them become unruly the warden has only to threaten them with a night in cell No. 7. — New York Herald.

By God's Judgment — Will Purvis Slipped Through the Noose

1899

And Accordingly the Man Convicted of Murder Most Cowardly is Let Free by the Executive of the Bayou State — Cannot Be Retried

A case of modern "judgment" has just been brought to the attention of many who had forgotten the strange case of Will Purvis of Mississippi, through the pardon that was granted to him a few days ago by Gov. McLaurin. Purvis figured conspicuously in the great whitecap sensation of several years ago, and his release from the penitentiary terminates a case which for sensational developments and dramatic details stands remarkable in the history of criminal jurisprudence.

In 1895 Purvis was accused of the murder of Will Buckley, a fellow whitecapper of Marion county. Buckley had fallen out with the band with which Purvis was said to have been one of the most aggressive members, and he had made open threats that he would divulge their secrets and bring them all to punishment. One of the oaths of the band prescribed to each member upon initiation was that the first man who turned traitor was to suffer death. Accordingly, a meeting was held to try Buckley, and he was condemned to die. Purvis participated at this meeting.

Shortly afterwards a second meeting was held to select the men who should execute the sentence of the band. This meeting Purvis failed to attend, whether from excess of caution, from accident or from qualms of conscience is not clear. Naturally his absence aroused the suspicions of his comrades. Nobody but the men present will ever know what took place at this second meeting, and there is nothing positive but that shortly afterwards Buckley was assassinated one evening after sundown on his way home from work. It was rumored around the neighborhood that Purvis was the guilty man. The rumors gained credence, and Purvis was arrested. At the trial Buckley's brother, was with him on the night he was murdered, testified that he recognized Purvis as the murderer.

Whether innocent or guilty, Purvis was sentenced to be hanged, and the day of execution was fixed and the gallows erected. The hanging was to be a public one, and as there had not been one in many a year in the neighborhood, crowds from all over the country gathered to witness the gruesome event. There were the usual preliminaries which attend such occasion. The prisoner was led upon the scaffold and allowed to say a last word. A minister of the gospel walked with him in the shadow of death and offered up prayers for the salvation of his soul.

At last the fatal moment came. The black cap was pulled down over the horrified eyes of the prisoner, and the noose was made fast around his neck. There was a hush in the great multitude of spectators, a pause, and then the trap was sprang and the body shot downward through the trap. Many sickened at the sight and turned away. For a moment the body writhed and quivered in midair, and then the knot slipped and the prisoner fell heavily to the ground. A wild shout greeted this denouement, the first of its kind the people of Marion county and the adjacent counties had ever witnessed. Eagerly the crowd pressed forward and assisted Purvis to his feet. As soon as he began to revive he called God to witness that he was innocent of the crime of which he was accused, and for which he had almost paid with his life.

But law is law, and the sheriff soon ordered the people to stand back and began preparations for a second attempt at execution. The people now asserted themselves. They cried down this act and threatened violence. To them it was an inscrutable sign on the part of Providence that Purvis was really innocent, and that a judicial murder had been prevented by divine interference. Purvis was taken back to jail, and soon afterwards was rescued by a mob. Gov. Stone, who was then in office, was besieged by pleading and threatening letters in behalf of the culprit, but he remained firm. When Gov. McLaurin came into office Purvis was recaptured, or, rather, he was brought back to jail by his friends, and his sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life.

"God's judgment" seems to have deeply impressed the people of Marion county. A brother and an uncle the murdered man signed the petition to the governor clamoring for Purvis' pardon, and all the Marion county folks attached their names to the document. The entire state of Mississippi seems to be on the side of Purvis, and very likely on the side of justice, so far as any one knows.

—The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Feb. 11, 1899, p. 3.