Great American Crime Stories

by Bill Bowers

  I left my parents without their consent when I was very young, and returning again was received by them, but could not be contented; therefore I tarried with them but two years, before I left them again, and have never seen them since.

  I came away with one George Wall, to whom I was lawfully married: If I had never seen him I should not have left my parents. I went with him to Philadelphia; we tarried there some time, but left that place and went to New-York, where we staid about three months.—From thence we came to Boston, where he tarried with me some time, and then went off, leaving me an entire stranger: Upon which I went to service and lived very contented, and should have remained so, had it not been for my husband; for, as soon as he came back, he enticed me to leave my service and take to bad company, from which I may date my ruin. I hope my unhappy fate will be a solemn warning to him. He went off again and left me, and where he is now I know not. . . .

  I hope my awful and untimely fate will be a solemn warning and caution to every one, but more particularly to the youth, especially those of my own sex.

  I acknowledge myself to have been guilty of a great many crimes, such as Sabbath-breaking, stealing, lying, disobedience to parents, and almost every other sin a person could commit, except murder; and have not lived in the fear of God, nor regarded the kind admonitions and counsels of man.

  In short, the many small crimes I have committed, are too numerous to mention in this sheet, and therefore a particular narrative of them here would serve to extend a work of this kind to too great a length; which crimes I most sincerely desire to confess . . .

  But as I could heartily wish that the innocent may not suffer with the guilty, I shall, in some degree, deviate from my first intention, by relating the particulars of some material transactions of my life, which, perhaps, may serve as a solemn warning to the living, of my sex at least; especially to those whom they may more immediately concern: They are as follow, viz.

  In one of my nocturnal excursions, when the bright goddess Venus shined conspicuous, and was the predominant Planet among the heavenly bodies, sometime in the spring of 1787, not being able to ascertain the exact time, I happened to go on board a ship, lying at the Long-Wharf, in Boston;—the Captain’s name I cannot recollect, but think he was a Frenchman: On my entering the cabin, the door of which not being fastened, and finding the Captain and Mate asleep in their beds, I hunted about for plunder, and discovered, under the Captain’s head, a black silk handkerchief containing upwards of thirty pounds, in gold, crowns, and small change, on which I immediately seized the booty and decamped therewith as quick as possible; which money I spent freely in company as [word missing ] and wicked as myself, fully proving the old adage, “Light come light go.”

  At another time, I think it was about the year 1788, I broke into a sloop, on board of which I was acquainted, lying at Doane’s Wharf, in this town, and finding the Captain and every hand on board asleep in the cabin and steerage, I looked round to see what I could help myself to, when I espied a silver watch hanging over the Captain’s head, which I pocketed. I also took a pair of silver buckles out of the Captain’s shoes: I likewise made free with a parcel of small change for pocket-money, to make myself merry among my evil companions and made my escape without being discovered.

  I would beg the patience of the public for only a few minutes, while I relate another adventure that happened in the course of my life, which, were it not for the novelty thereof, might be thought too trifling to mention in this sheet; but with a view of gratifying the curiosity of some particular friends, who have been very kind to me under sentence. I have consented to give it to the publisher for insertion, which is as follows:

  Sometime about the year 1785, my husband being confined in the Goal in this place for these, I had a mind to try an expedient to extricate him from his imprisonment, which was to have a brick-loaf baked, in which I contrived to enclose a number of tools, such as a saw, file, &c. in order to assist him to make his escape, which was handed to him by the goaler in person, who little suspected such a trick was playing with him; however, it like to have had the desired effect the crafty contriver intended; for, by means of this stratagem, the poor culprit, Wall, had busily employed himself with the implements that his kind help-mate had in this curious manner conveyed to him, and had nearly effected his design before it was discovered.

  [The prisoner then declared] Miss Dorothy Horn, a crippled person in Boston Alms-House, to be entirely innocent of the theft at Mr. Vaughn’s in Essex-Street, tho’ she suffered a long imprisonment, was set on the gallows one hour, and whipped five stripes therefor.

  As to the crime of Robbery, for which I am in a few hours to suffer an ignominious death. I am entirely innocent to the truth of this declaration I appeal to that God before whom I must shortly appear, to give an account of every transaction of my life.

  With regard to the above Robbery, I would beg permission to relate a few particulars, which are, that I had been at work all the preceding day, and was on my way home in the evening, without design to injure any person: in my way I [words missing] in the street; what it was I knew not, until I was taken up; I never saw Miss Bendar (the person I was charged with robbing that evening) and was quite surprised when the crime was laid to my charge. The witnesses who swore against me are certainly mistaken; but as a dying person I freely forgive them.

  Rachel then thanked her judges and other presiding officials, and committed her soul to God. Her confession, “taken from the prisoner’s mouth, a few hours before her execution,” was then signed by “Rachel Wall, Joseph Otis, Deputy-Goaler, [and] Wm. Crombie, Assistant.” Rachel and her male companions in crime were then hanged on Boston Common, ultimately on order of Governor John Hancock.

  In their Proceedings, published 1905 and excerpted here, the Massachusetts Historical Society detailed the crime for which she gave up her life—seeming mundane by comparison with her prior exploits—and the ever-evolving laws and criminal punishments that took her there:

  HANGED FOR STEALING A HAT.

  Just at the spot, nearly opposite Mason Street, where preparations have been made for an entrance to the subway on the Common, in which the tracks for south-bound cars are to be deflected westerly before intersecting the Boylston street branch in order to resume the parallel at Tremont street, is the point which may be said to have witnessed the most unaccountable execution on record in this State.

  “Is it true that Governor John Hancock ordered a woman to be hanged on the Common for snatching a bonnet ?” was asked by a Bostonian as he passed this spot where the subway operations are the centre of curiosity.

  There is at the State House a document with the bold autograph that headed the signatures of the Declaration of Independence. Governor John Hancock, under date of Oct. 8, 1789, and in language identical with that addressed to Sheriff O’Brien in connection with the hanging of Gilbert, with the appropriate variation of time and place, ordered Joseph Henderson, “sheriff of our county of Suffolk,” to hang Rachel Wall, on Boston Common, on the 20th of that month.

  To find the specific cause, the record of the court that convicted her was searched. It said that Rachel Wall, on the 18th of March, 1789, at Boston, on the public highway, assailed Margaret Bender, and with “bodily force” seized and put on the bonnet of said Bender, “of the value of seven shillings.” “This,” says the record, “did she carry away against the public peace of this Commonwealth.” In the document “sundry other thefts” were referred to, but in point of fact the tradition in the case as generally believed is that the offence was one involving a quarrel between two women, one of whom snatched the bonnet of the other. The sentence of execution was duly carried out, under the rule of the first Governor of our Commonwealth, and within four days of the time when the first President of the United States was welcomed on these streets. . . .

  An examination of the court records proved that the story, with some slight inaccuracies, was tr
ue. . . . No evidence in the case has been preserved, and of the original papers there remain only the indictments and a bill of costs [indicating] a trial of considerable length. . . .

  The Boston newspapers of the time give some few facts and furnish some additional particulars.

  The occurrence seems to have excited but little comment, and the accounts in their brevity and quietness are in striking contrast with the flaming headlines and the multitudinous details of the journals of to-day. It was taken for granted that laws were made to be enforced,—and enforced without evasion or compromises,—and that the Executive was bound to see to their exact execution without faltering or shrinking from the obligation of his oath and the faithful performance of his official duty.

  Extracts from two journals give the account of the offence and the ending of the affair.

  From the “Independent Chronicle and the Universal Advertiser,” published in Boston, April 2, 1789:—

  A singular kind of robbery, for this part of the world, took place on Friday evening last: As a woman was walking alone, she was met by another woman, who seized hold of her and stopped her mouth with her handkerchief, and tore from her head her bonnet and cushion, after which she flung her down, took her shoes and buckles, and then fled. She was soon after overtaken, and committed to jail.

  From the same paper of September 10, 1789:—

  Last Tuesday afternoon, Sentence of Death was pronounced against William Dennifee, William Smith and Rachel Wall, who were severally convicted of High Way Robbery at the Supreme Judicial Court, holden in this town; the sentence was pronounced by Chief Justice Cushing. . . .

  From the same paper of October 8, 1789:—

  This day, between the hours of 12 and 4, William Dennofee, William Smith, and Rachel Wall, are to be executed, pursuant to their sentence, for the crime of highway robbery.

  The law as it stood at the time was rigorously enforced. No doubt or hesitation seems to have arisen. A question may perhaps reasonably suggest itself whether, though the offence fell technically within the language of the law, it was within its spirit and intent. The point, however, seems not to have been taken, no question to have been raised, and no attempt to secure a stay or commutation of the sentence. The prisoner was an old offender, the crime fully proved, and that seems to have been considered enough. Evidently the weak commiseration for a convicted criminal now so common found little favor then.

  The case itself naturally suggested an inquiry as to how Massachusetts had dealt with the crime of highway robbery in its several periods of colony, province, and commonwealth.

  The first law touching the crime of highway robbery was in 1642. The colonists brought with them the general principles of the common law and the habits of legal practice which they had acquired as Englishmen. The courts established were required to proceed “ to heare and determine all causes according to the lawes nowe established, & where there is noe lawe, then as neere the lawe of God as they can.” . . .

  The earliest legislation came at “The Generall Court of Elections, the 18th Day of y 3d Month, 1642. This law was of the utmost flexibility, and left everything to the discretion and determination of the judges.

  Between 1630 and 1644 no case of highway robbery appears upon the records of the Court of Assistants, but there are several trials and sentences for stealing. The penalty imposed is fine, restitution, whipping, and occasionally branding, according to the gravity of the offence.

  In 1642 a woman “for hir many theftes and lyes was censured to bee severely whipt, & condemned to Slavery, till shee have recompenced double for all hir theftes.”

  In 1635, in the case of “a knowen theife, who since his comeing hither bath committed dyvers fellonyes &c. as appeareth by his examinacon, It is therefore ordered that the said Scarlett shalbe severely whipt & branded in the forehead with a T & after sent to his said Maister whome the Court enioynes to send the said Scarlett out of this Iurisdiccion” &c. . . .

  And in the records from 1673 to 1692 no case of simple highway robbery is found. There are cases of burglary and piracy, where robbery is charged as an incident and the punishment varies with the offence. In one in 1681 the sentence is “to be branded in the forhead wth the letter B. and be severely whipt wtth thirty stripes paying treble damages . . . discharding fees of Court & ye prison standing Comitted till Sentence be performed.”

  And in another, in 1685, “ to be branded wth the letter B on ye forhead & have his Right eare Cutt of dischardging ye charge of ye witnesses tryall & fees & then make Restitution to the party Injuried & in deflect thereof to be sold to any of the English plantations. And for another burglary tried at the same time “to be againe Branded . . . & have his left eare cutt of,” etc. as before. The offenders seem most frequently to have been bond-servants. . . .

  The Province passed away, the Commonwealth succeeded, and there came new legislation. Acts of 1784, ch. 52. [January Session.] Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives, in General Court assembled, and by the authority of the same, That every person who shall feloniously assault, rob and take from the person of another, any money, goods, chattels or other property that may be the subject of theft, and shall be thereof convicted, shall be adjudged guilty of felony, and shall suffer the pains of death. March 9. 1785. For assault with intent, the punishment is:—

  fine not exceeding 1000 pounds, imprisonment, setting in the pillory, whipping, setting on the gallows with a rope about his neck [and the other end thereof thrown over the gallows,] confinement to hard labor, not exceeding three years, or either of these punishments, according to the degree and aggravation of offence.

  It was under this Act of 1784 that Rachel Wall was tried and convicted and executed. It held in force for twenty years.

  11

  Madame Delphine LaLaurie, New Orleans Monster

  Of all the obvious horrors of slavery in America, few can match the terrifying story of Delphine Lalaurie (ca. 1780–1849), who was found to have cruelly abused and tortured her slaves in New Orleans, Louisiana. In April 1834, a female slave who was a cook set a fire in the kitchen of Lalaurie’s French Quarter mansion, apparently hoping either to commit suicide or to otherwise escape the terrible, cruel situation. The flames soon spread throughout the structure. Firefighters and volunteers found several slaves, chained and clearly mistreated over a long period of time. Not long thereafter, an angry mob formed and destroyed what was left of the house. Lalaurie and her husband apparently fled the city (barely escaping the angry rabble) and traveled to Paris, France, where she lived the rest of her life, never facing punishment for her crimes.

  The infamous Lalaurie mansion was eventually restored and used for other purposes, including as a home for young criminals and as a school. Some claim the mansion is haunted. Actor Nicolas Cage owned the building for about two years, from 2007 to 2009.

  A TALE OF SLAVERY TIMES.

  It was on the morning of the 10th of April, 1834, that from the corner of Royal and Hospital streets, crepitating flames were seen to burst forth, threatening the entire destruction of a spacious brick mansion that adorned that locality. It was an imposing family residence, three stories in height, and the resort of the best society of New Orleans. Within its walls, European notabilities, including the Marquis of Lafayette, had been housed and entertained with that munificence, easy grace and cheerful hospitality peculiar to a Creole generation, now so rapidly disappearing. Its furniture and appointments—exquisite and costly gems of Parisian workmanship—were cited as “chefs-d’oeuvres” in a city where objects of “vertu” and princely elegance were by no means rare. (It is a mistake to say that the Orleans princes were ever guests in that residence, as their visit to our city had occurred long before its construction. The Marignys were their hosts.)

  Around this house were congregated a dense and excited throng, apparently feasting their eyes on the lambent and circling streams of fire that with f
orked tongues were rapidly enveloping the upper portions of the aristocratic abode. Their frowning brows and fiercely glistening eyes bespoke the terrible passions that raged within their breasts, for, that house, according to common tradition, was a hot-bed of cruelty and crime, and bore upon its frontispiece the curse of God.

  The entire width of Hospital street was literally wedged in by a compact, surging tide, overflowing even adjacent thoroughfares. The pent-up blaze had burst forth from the kitchen above the basement, and from thence was rapidly ascending the story occupied by the family. The firemen, with their inadequate hand engines and equipments, were manning their brakes with might and main against the devouring element with only partial success, and were finally compelled to cut their way through the roof. On penetrating into the attic, and while ranging through the apartments, their blood curdled by the horrid spectacle which struck their view—seven slaves, more or less mutilated, slowly perishing from hunger, deep lacerations and festering wounds. In describing this appalling sight, Jerome Bayou, the proprietor of the New Orleans “Bee,” wrote: “We saw where the collar and manacles had cut their way into their quivering flesh. For several months they had been confined in those dismal dungeons, with no other nutriment than a handful of gruel and an insufficient quantity of water, suffering the tortures of the damned and longingly awaiting death, as a relief to their sufferings. We saw Judge Canonge, Mr. Montreuil and others, making for some time fruit-less efforts to rescue those poor unfortunates, whom the infamous woman, Lalaurie, had doomed to certain death and hoping that the devouring element might thus obliterate the last traces of her nefarious deeds.”