Joe Palmer's Good Fight

1895

The Latter Part of It Was Without Thumbs, but He Won.

"In those days," said the man with the broad white hat, "Creede was a booming camp. You can make books on that. And it was a camp that it pleased an old timer to set foot in. Tenderfeet were not stacking up against the fellows then. It was a reminder of Deadwood and Leadville. It was a reminiscence of forty-nine.

"But, as I was saying, that fight that Joe Palmer made against the 'Orleans Kid' was as good and game a fight as a man ever saw. Palmer is in Denver now. What does he do? Well, everything, for Joe is an all round gambler. Down in Creede he ran a house for Jeff Smith. The Kid came in there one night and got noisy and abusive. The fact that he had killed four men didn't cut any figure with Joe, and he politely but firmly told him to get out. The Kid left sulkily, and we fellows at the tables, watching the play between turns of the cards, just took a flier, in our inner consciousness, that there'd be trouble before morning.

"Joe stepped out of the place a little afterward. He was gone but a moment or two when we heard a shot. We sprang up from our chips, leaving our bets on the layout, and rushed outside. And there we saw a fight!

"Palmer was standing in the middle of the street, right under the electric light. In the bright glare he Was the fairest of targets. The Kid was by the corner in the shadow of the stores. Both of them were blazing away at less than 30 paces. The Kid's second bullet struck Joe in the thumb of his pistol hand, and the gun fell to the ground. Joe picked it up with his left hand and went on shooting. Another bullet from the Kid struck Joe's left thumb, and the six shooter dropped again. We all thought Joe would run then sure, because we couldn't see how he could ever cock his gun to keep up the fight. He stooped over, as cool as you please, grabbed his gun in his right hand and cocked it by rubbing it downward against his leg.

"When the two men had used up all their cartridges and the fight was over, the Kid staggered away. He had lost. Four of Joe's six bullets had hit him. He won out, though, in his lingering six weeks' game with death and got well enough to kill a man up in Duluth and go to the Minnesota pen." — Louisville Courier-Journal.

Tried To Shoot His Wife

New York, 1895

Bowman's Pistol Would not go Off — Screams Scared Him Away.

Mrs. William Bowman of Flushing is alive because a pistol in the hand of her worthless husband failed to act when he pulled the trigger in an attempt to murder her on Main street Sunday night. About a year ago William Bowman of Maspeth, and Miss Tillie June of Flushing were married and went to Maspeth to live. Mrs. Bowman found married life a sort of precarious existence. Her husband was not particularly fond of work, and what little he did earn oftener went for whiskey than for food.

Finally, when the place she called home was taken from her because of nonpayment of rent, she determined to leave her husband. She did so, and on Thursday came home to her mother. Late Sunday night she and her mother and Mrs. Annie Mackinroe were returning from a call, when they met Bowman on Main street. He had been drinking heavily.

He stepped up to them and said: "Tillie, I want you to go with me." His wife refused to go with him and he yelled, "Then I'll shoot you." Suiting the deed to the word, he drew a revolver, and, thrusting it into his wife's face, pulled the trigger. Fortunately the weapon did not discharge, and the screams of the woman alarmed Bowman, who turned and ran.

The police finally located him as he was about to board a late train for New York and placed him under arrest. Next morning Judge Smith placed him under bonds to keep the peace, the charge of assault with intent to kill not being pressed.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, Feb. 22, 1895, p. 12.

The Mayor Is Tired of It

New York, 1895

Ex-Mayor Patrick J. Gleason of Long Island City says that he is tired of having pistols flourished in his face by persons who happen to think that he has not treated them well, and he proposes going before the next Grand Jury to find out what it has to say in the premises.

John Griffin, who it is said fired two shots at the ex-Mayor on Saturday night, and then announced his intention of filling Gleason with lead, was released that same night by the police on his own recognizance. He was arraigned before Justice Duffy in the Police Court Monday morning and was fined $5 on a charge of disorderly conduct.

The ex-Mayor was not present, but his watchman, Patrick Downey, who wrested the weapon from Griffin, made a charge of assault in the first degree against Griffin, who gave bonds in the sum of $500 for his appearance in court.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, Feb. 15, 1895, p. 12.

Shot By His Old Rival

New York, 1895

Giaginto's Unrelenting Hate for the Man Who Won his Sweetheart.

With a bullet hole in the left breast of his overcoat and a battered leaden pellet in his pocket, Joseph Schiavello, of Astoria, appeared before Justice Duffy in the Long Island City police court on Friday and asked for a warrant for the arrest of Carnetto Giaginto. The hostile feeling between the two men, according to Schiavello, dates back eight years, when he married Giaginto's sweetheart in Italy and came to this country. Giaginto, who swore he would be revenged, followed them.

The two men met in New York, and Schiavello asserts that Giaginto attempted to shoot him, and spent six months in jail in consequence. The two men met again in Astoria Thursday night. Giaginto whipped out his pistol and blazed away at his rival. The bullet cut a hole through his coat, and glancing along one of his ribs, came out at the breast bone. The wound is not dangerous. Giaginto has escaped, but a warrant has been issued for his arrest.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, Feb. 1, 1895, p. 12.

Shot at Miss Abbott

New York, 1895

Miss Annie Abbott, who lives with her widowed mother in Farmingdale, had a narrow escape from injury Friday evening. She took a lighted lamp into the front room and was drawing the window shades when there was a report of a pistol and a bullet crashed through the window above her head. Only one shot was fired.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, N.Y., Jan. 11, 1895, p. 1.

Why Did Mackey Shoot Kuene?

New York, 1895

Patrick Mackey lives at Morris Park. On Sunday he was visited by Julius Kuene, a grocer doing business in Myrtle avenue, Brooklyn. In the evening Mackey accompanied Kuene to Brooklyn. Late in the night Kuene was taken to St. Catherine's hospital, Williamsburgh, Suffering from two bullet wounds, one which entered the base of the skull, and will probably prove fatal. The shots were fired by Patrick Mackey.

Mackey had disappeared, and all traces of him were lost. An ambulance surgeon removed the dying man to the hospital.

The cause of the shooting is at present a mystery.

Mackey was formerly a policy dealer in Brooklyn and kept several establishments. He was probably under the impression that Kuene told the police, and that in consequence he was driven out of the business.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, N.Y., Jan. 18, 1895, unknown page number.

Man Gets Hour Off From His Work and Slays Rival for Love of Wife

1920

A growing coldness on the part of his wife roused the detective instinct in Achie C. Vance, watchman at a factory in a Chicago suburb. He decided another man was the explanation. Watching the back porch of his home thru a knothole in his barn of evenings when he was supposed to be at work, he found that Mrs. Vance regularly costumed herself in her best and went strolling. He shadowed her and saw that she generally met O. L. Vannier.

A few nights ago Vance laid off work for an hour and killed Vannier.

Tells of Shadowing.

He told the story in a cell at the Harvey jail. His wife occupies a cell close by.

"Saturday night I followed her as usual. As usual, I saw her meet Vannier. He is 30; I am 48.

"I had arranged with another watchman at the plant, Warren Dopkins, to sub more me until I had attended to my personal affairs.

"That night I hid behind trees and heard every word they said. I heard her say to him: 'Gee, I sure do love you.' And he told her the same. Then I went up and asked them what they meant.

Other Man Runs.

"Vannier started to run. You see, I had warned him to keep away from my wife. I drew my revolver and shot once in the air. I only intended to arrest him. I shot two more times. He dropped. I thought I was shooting in the air. But he had a bullet thru his body.

"Of course, I helped him all I could. I put him and my wife in a taxicab and took them to Dr. T. A. Noble. Then I reported back to my job and telephoned the police chief, James E. Tomlinson, he could get me when he wished."

Vannier died without regaining consciousness.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 2.

Note: The article as printed has Vance's name as "Achie," and we might hazard a guess that it could be Archie instead. I only saw one other article on this incident and that article used initials, "A. C. Vance." That other article says, "The shooting took place on the prairies near One Hundred and Fifty-fifth boulevard and Vine street at 12:20 in the morning." — Van Wert Daily Bulletin, Van Wert, Ohio, Aug. 2, 1920, p. 1, for that detail.

Two Brothers Die Together

1916

One Soldier Killed Giving Dying Kin a Drink.

LONDON, England. — The death of two brothers in each other's arms at the front is related in private dispatches. They were Corporal Tom and Private Henry Hardwidge of Ferndale, Rhondda Valley, both members of a Welsh regiment.

An officer writes: "The eldest, Tom, was hit by a sniper's bullet and lay in the open under a scorching sun, when Henry, at the risk of his life, hastened to him with a pail of water. Just as he reached him and as he was offering the water, a sniper shot him. He clasped his brother as the latter rose to take the water, and they died in each other's arms." A third brother remains in action in France.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 2.

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.

Shoots Wild White Duck

1919

LANSDALE, Pennsylvania — Right in the center of the town under the rays of an arc light, Fire Chief John _. Detwiler shot a white duck. The chief was on his way to the firehouse when he saw three snow-white fowls huddling in the center of the street. He saw they were ducks, but thought they were domestic fowls until he took a closer look and found they were wild. Going home he got a 22-caliber rifle and bagged the one.

He thinks they were of an Arctic species.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 8.

Note: John's middle initial isn't discernible. It has to be either B, P or R. But I saw another source that, I believe, had it as H. But it's not an H in this particular article.

Has Charmed Life

1919

Deer Holds Record of Many Close Escapes From Hunters.

LEWISTOWN, Pennsylvania. — In the Seven Mountain region near here there is a deer that seems to bear a charmed life. This deer, known as old "Barney," has been seen by hunters for many seasons, but they have failed to bag him. A few years ago a hunter managed to cripple him in one leg, but he got away. It left him with a stiff leg.

One day a hunter got close to Barney, but when he went to shoot his gun held fire and Barney got away.

At another time, three hunters were getting warm around a little bonfire when Barney, frightened, ran right into their midst. One of the hunters got a shot at him at close range, but missed.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 8.

Wild Ducks Freeze in Ice, and Fly Away with the Lake

1919

Hunter Catches One of Struggling Birds by "Hind" Leg and Pulls It Down — Then the Whole Flock Becomes Exhausted and Falls Into His Eager Hands.

NEW YORK, N. Y. — Here is a real duck story. It is from South River, N. J., and the correspondent swears to its truthfulness. He walked five miles to deliver it to a South River editor, but has since been missing. The story follows:

Mayor-elect George L. Burton is never happier than when aiming his shotgun at a flock of ducks. However, according to a friend, he has never been known to bag a single duck until the recent zero weather. Here's how it happened: He was snugly stowed away in his houseboat when a flock of ducks flying over the bay with loud squawking awakened him at 10 a. m.

He rushed on deck and discovered he was surrounded by a flock of ugly ducklings, who threatened to carry away his boat. The leader of the squawky tribe decided, however, to take a swim in the icy water.

No sooner had they alighted than they were frozen fast by the zero weather. George noticed that the ducks were struggling to get away, but could not force themselves from their icy mooring.

This is my chance to get one, murmured Burton. Seizing his trusty gun, he jumped on the meadows and set out to bag a few. His approach frightened them, and with one supreme effort they struggled into the air, carrying with them a heavy sheet of ice, which bound them together. They flew directly over his head and were so low that George caught one of them by the "hind" leg and pulled it loose.

The loss of this duck — a large one — made the ice too heavy for the rest of the flock, which began to settle slowly. As they were circling over the houseboat, the old drake became exhausted. He could not hold up his end and, with a resounding crash, the entire flock fell through the cabin door.

When George returned he found he had captured a whole flock of ducks without the use of his gun. He is now telling his friends that he shot them.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 8.

Cock Shooting In Tall Corn

1901

Cock shooting in tall corn is as easy to the expert as it is puzzling to the novice. You will, of course, work with the rows, not across them, and if you are wise you will shoot at every glimpse of a bird and very frequently after an instant's sight of him, when you can only guess where he is. Sharp work, say ye, my masters. Yes, in a measure, but not so wonderful after all. You certainly must be ever ready and swift and smooth in action, but actual sight of the bird at the instant of pulling trigger is not necessary.

Green corn won't stop even fine shot, and your charge will give a pattern as big as a bushel basket: hence the shaking of a leaf, the flick of a vanishing wing, are enough for the master of the art. In an instant his gun is on the spot where a species of lightning calculation tells him the bird should be, and the trigger is pressed without the slightest delay. The difficulty with the novice is to get him to shoot at once instead of waiting in vain for a clear view. Experts kill bird after bird in this way. The novice must dismiss all thoughts of empty shells. No good sportsman worries over misses, though he will learn from failures how to hold next time. There is no royal road to success in the field. Nothing but experience really counts. So let the novice crack away, although he may only get one bird in ten. We all know what he'll get if he doesn't shoot at all. — Outing.

Seeks Action, Kills Self

1919

FREEPORT, L. I. — The desire of Stanley Simon, 19, for "more action" in a short story he was writing caused his death according to a coroner's verdict. A magazine returned a story to Simon, suggesting he get "more action" in it. Simon was experimenting with a revolver, when it exploded, killing him.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 5.

Rats Lured Into Traps by Rodent Leader Who Acts as "Pied Piper"

1919

SHERMAN, Texas. — Sherman's Pied Piper, an aged, bewhiskered and tailless rodent, is no more. A frisky terrier, unaware of the importance of the tailless wonder, pounced upon him one day this week as he was leaving a trap where he had led hundreds of rats to their doom, and brought his useful career to an untimely end. And Sherman folks are sad. They feel like wearing mourning. Meanwhile rats which have infested the city have become "leery" of traps and are multiplying.

It was several weeks ago that the rat killing campaign was begun here. They were trapped by the hundreds. The killing was done by dogs assembled about the traps to pounce upon the captured rodents as they were turned out. One day what appeared to be the "daddy of all the rats" was found in one of the traps. One of the wise citizens suggested that this rodent's tail be amputated. He declared the old rat was the leader of the others and that his pride in leadership would make him leave the city. when his long tail was cropped off.

The operation was performed and the old rat turned loose, and admonished to leave the city.

But did he? Not much. The following morning the old rascal was found in one of the traps with forty others. The others were killed and the "leader" turned loose again. The following day he was back in the traps with more than a score of others. This continued from day to day. The people began to believe they would soon have the rats exterminated.

But the unusual happened. One morning this week in letting the captured rats out of a trap the "daddy" rat ran out with them. The terrier failed to recognize the "leader" and leaped upon him. Before any assistance could be given the old rat was killed. Since that time but few rats have been found in the big municipal rat trap.



Bullet Knocks His Hat Off

POTTSTOWN, Pa. — Only by the narrowest margin, John Stoudt, conductor on a trolley line, missed death when a bullet passed thru the number plate on his cap and knocked off his headgear. It is thought the bullet was fired by a would-be robber, who was scared off by the arrival of night-shift men.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 5.

Three Slain In Duel With Guns Over Girl

1920

Doctor Objects to Man's Attentions to Sister-in-law

CHARLESTON, S. C., Jan. 1. — One of the worst tragedies in Eastern South Carolina in recent years occurred at St. Stephens, Berkley County. Three are dead: Royal Cotten, aged 20, son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph W. Cotten, 90 Columbus street, this city; John E. Bell, a young farmer of Berkley County; D. J. H. Pratt, a physician of St. Stephens. Miss Lydia Bell, sister of Mr. Bell and sister-in-law of Dr. Pratt, was wounded in the arm.

Dr. Pratt is alleged to have started the shooting, killing young Cotten while the latter was visiting Miss Bell. A few moments later he shot and killed his brother-in-law, Mr. Bell, who returned the fire, killing Dr. Pratt. Young Cotten, shot in the heart, fell dead almost at the feet of Miss Bell.

It seems that the young Charlestonian was a frequent visitor at the Bell home, where Dr. Pratt also lived. It is said that Dr. Pratt objected to Cotten paying attention to his sister-in-law.

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.

A Rattlesnake Story

1910

In "Life and Sport on the Pacific Coast" Horace A. Vachell relates one of his narrow escapes from a friend's bullet.

"My cousin and I had been camping and hunting for several days in a sort of paradise valley. One day during a long ride on horseback we had seen a great many rattlesnakes and killed a few, an exceptional experience. That night my cousin woke up and saw by the light of the moon a big rattler crawling across my chest. He lay for a moment fascinated, horror struck, watching the sinuous curves of the reptile. Then he quietly reached for his six shooter, but he could not see the reptile's head, and he moved nearer, noiselessly, yet quickly, dreading some movement on my part that should precipitate the very thing he dreaded, and then he saw that it was not a snake at all — only the black and yellow stripe of my blanket, which gently rose and fell as I breathed. Had he fired — well, it might have been bad for me, for he confessed that his hand shook."

Meant to Have His Life

1910

Vicious Attack by Australian Natives on Trespassers in Their Country

Men who venture into the interior of northern Australia are likely to meet with adventures at the hands of hostile natives. Here is a matter-of-fact yarn concerning one James Runine McPherson, engaged in pearl-shelling operations:

On July 18 he was fishing for trepang (sea cucumber or sea slug) at the mouth of the Liverpool river. He landed in a dingey on the east bank of the river, where a bush smokehouse for the curing of trepang had been erected. He dispatched a Malay with canoes and working natives to gather trepang around a distant point, while two natives who paddled the dingey went off to the lugger, which was anchored more than a mile out, with a load of fresh water. He remained at the smokehouse with three old Junction Bay natives, who assisted him in manipulating the trepang. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon, feeling tired, he was reclining on the floor of the smokehouse, with a rifle across his knees, when he was startled by the loud swishing sound of several spears passing through the bough-covered enclosure.

McPherson immediately rushed out and saw seven or eight Liverpool river natives at the back of the smokehouse with spears shipped and with murder in their faces. Another shower of spears fell around him and he retired toward the water's edge and as he dodged one another long-barbed spear struck him in the hip. He felt no more, he says, than a burning twinge from the wound at the moment and instantly broke it off with his hand, leaving about eight inches of the barbed point buried in the fleshy part of his hip, The natives at this time were about forty yards away, having never shifted from their first point of attack near some thick bushes.

The man who had wounded McPherson was in the act of throwing another spear when McPherson shot and hit him. He then emptied his revolver at his assailants, who immediately disappeared in the adjacent scrub. Hearing shots, the two Daly river natives came hurrying ashore with the dingey, and conveyed McPherson to his boat, where he subsequently succeeded himself in tearing the barbed spearhead from the wound. Several barbs shaped like fishhooks were broken off in the process and remained in the wound.

The following day McPherson shifted his trepang gear and crew to another part of the coast and started for Palmerston to report the matter and have the wound attended to.

Harry Potter Leaves Picnic, Attempts Suicide

Pennsylvania, 1935

Harry Potter, Well-Known Karthaus Man, Said To Have Shot Self Twice

Suffering from what was reported to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound below the heart, Harry Potter, aged about 28, son of the late Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Potter of Karthaus, is a patient today in the Philipsburg State Hospital in a serious condition. Reports from that institution early this afternoon stated his condition was "very grave."

The tragic affair, which has been a distinct shock to the little community where the Potter family has held the esteem and respect of their fellow townsmen for many years, occurred at the home of George Potter, older brother of the victim, where the latter was staying, sometime early last evening.

According to reports received here, Harry Potter attended the Frenchville picnic during the afternoon and in company with some friends went to his home at Karthaus late in the afternoon. His brother and family was away when Harry arrived home and the first knowledge of the tragedy was when a neighbor boy, Abner Rolley, heard two shots. He rushed into the Potter home and found Harry unconscious with a bullet wound below the heart, apparently self-inflicted by a .38-calibre revolver which was nearby. The Rolley boy also found the Potter dog shot to death and from the mute evidence found in the house it was assumed the young man shot his dog before turning the gun on himself.

What may have prompted the young man to make an attempt on his own life is a mystery to the people of the community in which he lived and where he was known so well. He is single and has never been known to have any serious home worries. Also, reports from Karthaus today stated the young man had never shown a despondent disposition and his friends are at a loss to understand his untimely act.

—The Clearfield Progress, Clearfield, PA, Aug. 23, 1935, p. 1.