Great American Crime Stories

by Bill Bowers

  Loomis jumped his bail bond. When the authorities threatened to come upon his brothers for the amount of the bonds, he came forward and pleaded not guilty to the indictment. D. C. Pomeroy, his counsel, urged a postponement of the trial Judge Mason, a brother of Congressman Joseph Mason, denied the request. One of the other brothers pleaded not guilty to an indictment, and was about to be forced to trial.

  In this dilemma both brothers ran out of the court room, and sprang into a cutter driven by Dan Geer. They had not gone many miles before they were overhauled and brought back. Meantime the Judge had discharged the jury, and the cases went over. He declined however, to admit Loomis to bail. He was afterwards taken before Judge Le Roy Morgan, of Syracuse, on a writ of habeas corpus, and that Judge took bail for his reappearance. An industrious farmer was induced to go upon his bond. Loomis fled to Canada, and the farmer was forced to pay his forfeit. He did so, and then committed suicide. In Canada, Loomis took the name of Theodore Goodenough, and overlooked the interests of the family at that end of the line.

  In September, 1864, the brothers deemed it necessary to clear themselves of certain indictments in Madison County, on which they feared to stand trial. It is rumored that after entering the engine house in Morrisville and cutting the hose, the gang fired the Court House. Anyway it was burned to the ground. Wash was in town when the fire occurred and took his turn at the brake of the engine. He seemed to be utterly astonished when some one told him that the hose had been cut, and said: “It’s a d--d outrage, and I would like to help hang the man who did it.”

  Afterward, fancying that the indictments might have been destroyed, Wash and his counsel called for a copy of a certain indictment. The copy was given. Wash then learned that the indictments had been removed to the office of the County Clerk, before the Court House was burned. This was a fireproof building. In the same week it was broken open, and indictments, deeds and mortgages were burned in a stove that stood in the office. Every indictment against the brothers was destroyed, and as the statute of limitations had expired, new indictments could not be procured. Among the papers burned was an indictment against someone not a Loomis. Wash afterwards called upon him and told him his assessment for this work was $199. The man borrowed the money and gladly paid him.

  Destroying Indictments

  Meantime similar indictments were pressing the brothers in Oneida County. The District Attorney’s office was rifled, and all his papers, including the indictments were carried off. The District Attorney is said to have paid Wash $250 for the return of the papers other than the indictments. They were afterward found mixed with leaves in a dooryard and returned to him. Many indictments were found against the family, but, except in one instance, no conviction was effected. At one time thirty-eight indictments were pending in which Filkins was a material witness, but hardly one of them was brought to trial.

  The destruction of the indictments emboldened the gang. Robberies were of nightly occurrence, and Filkins found the gang operating far down in Delaware county. He took from them a horse said to have been stolen in the county, and the gang had him arrested for stealing the horse. He was a witness in one of Beebe’s trials for stealing, and the old man had him arrested for perjury. When he was discharged it was getting dark, and his lawyer did not dare to ride back home with him. Ephraim Conger took an active part in reclaiming a stolen wagon; on the next night hes [sic] barn was burned. Maurice Terry made disrespectful comments on the Loomis family, and on the following night his barn was ablaze. No one who intermeddled with the family in any way was safe. A meeting was held in the Baptist church in North Brookfield to devise measures for protection. A committee on organization was appointed. At the next meeting by-laws were passed making any one who paid a dollar a member of the organization. Thereupon Wash and Grove gravely appeared, extolling the organization, and saying they were afraid of thieves, and wanted to become members. They planked down their dollars and crushed the life out of the association.

  Nemesis

  At 1 A. M., October 29, 1865, fourteen persons were asleep in the Loomis mansion. There was a knock at the back door. Wash was called out and murdered. His body was found behind some barrels in the woodshed. Grove was the next victim. He was badly beaten and covered with oat sacks and blankets, which were afterward saturated with kerosene, and fired. His sister, Cornelia, saved his life. The barn was burned, and many valuable horses perished. The coroner held an inquest over Wash’s body. Louisa Yates, swore that she was awakened by a rap on the bedroom window, and that someone called “Wash.” Wash went to the window and asked what was wanted; that the reply was, “Come to the back door. I want to speak to you a minute.” Wash went out. A second afterwards Filkins entered the room with a candle. Wash followed him, saying, “Filkins, I don’t want you in here. Come out. There’s nothing in here you want.” Filkins looked under the bed, and then turned toward the door, saying, “No, there’s nothing here, but Wash, I want you.” Wash said, “Very well,” and they walked out in the back kitchen, shutting the door.

  Louisa then heard a “dreadful jar that shook the house.” Just after this someone went upstairs, and in three or four minutes they came down with Grove. She heard Grove say, “Filkins, I want to see Wash a minute.” Filkins replied, “You can’t see Wash. He’s not there.” They then took Grove into the back kitchen and shut the door. She heard Grove screaming, and went to the kitchen door and tried to open it, but someone held it and she could not get in. She went back to her room and screamed while dressing. When she went back again she found Grove on the floor all on fire. He was covered with bags, blankets and his overcoat. They were saturated with kerosene, and the room was ablaze. Cornelia and herself threw the bags into the fire-place, and saved Grove from burning to death. A minute afterward the barn began to burn.

  Grove corroborated this story. He swore that Filkins rapped on his door, and he replied that he would be there as soon as he could dress. Filkins said he was in a hurry and couldn’t wait. Grove opened the door and went out. Filkins caught him by the collar. “I’ll go with you, Mr. Filkins.” Filkins shook him saying, “I know you will.” They met two or three men with guns on the stairs. The men followed them into the back kitchen. According to testimony, Filkins struck him on he head six or eight times as fast and as hard as he could. The others pitched into him, and he defended himself as well as he could. Filkins then struck him several times with a slug shot. He also shot at him with a revolver, and the ball went into the fireplace. He then struck him twice with the revolver, breaking it in two pieces. Grove fell to the floor, and Filkins jumped on him two or three times, kicking him in the head and neck. Filkins then said: “Boys, he’s dead. Let’s burn him up.” The kerosene was then poured on him and fired. Such was the testimony.

  Nellie Smith and Cornelia, Grove’s sister, both swore that they saw Filkins. When they tried to enter the room where Grove lay on fire, Filkins shoved them back with the words, “Get out of here. This is no place for women.” Others in the house swore that they found a broken revolver on the floor, near where Grove was picked up. One man said that he found a pair of handcuffs in the meadow near the barn, and Grove swore that Filkins was inquiring for these handcuffs before he struck him the first blow.

  Filkins In the Clutches of the Law

  Wash lived but a few hours. His skull was broken and he was beaten to a jelly. The jury returned a verdict that according to the testimony, Washington L. Loomis came to his death by the hands of three or more persons, and that one of these persons was James L. Filkins. Filkins informed the coroner that he was ready to deliver himself to the authorities. The coroner replied that he would let him know when he wanted him. Meantime, William Loomis swore out a warrant before Justice G. W. Cleveland, of Waterville charging Filkins with the murder of his brother. Filkins was arrested, and at the request of the prosecution, the examination was postponed two days, Filkins being discharged on his own recognizance. The same counsel appeared for the
Loomises who had acted for them during the inquest.

  On Nov. 6 Filkins again appeared before Justice Cleveland. Loomis’s counsel, Mr. Lamb, again asked for a postponement until the 8th. This was granted. On the 8th neither Loomis nor the subpoenaed witnesses appeared. The complaint instead of serving the subpoenas, had put them in his pocket and gone to his home in Verona. The real design was manifested. The Grand Jury was to meet on the 13th; the object was to throw the case over, so as to put Filkins in jail until the February Court. Lawyer White told the Justice that the District Attorney had given instructions to postpone the case. The Justice, however, issued new subpoena, directing immediate service. Plumb Loomis appeared at 4 o’clock, and wanted the case postponed until Lawyer Pomeroy came. He said he had telegraphed for him. The Court refused any further delay, and called Plumb to the stand. Plumb asked to step out a minute and then ran away. Soon afterward Mr. White entered, and said he had dispatched from Mr. Pomeroy and the District Attorney, informing him that they could not control his actions, and issued attachments for the witnesses. Later in the day L. D. Bixby, who slept in the house on the night of the murder, was caught and put on the stand. In the morning the prosecution examined Nathan Gates, who swore that Filkins had asked him to assist in cleaning out the Loomises. With this testimony, Mr. White rested the case for the people.

  The Day of Reckoning

  The second attempt to kill Filkins exasperated the public. Deputy Conger returned to Morrisville. One of the Judges threw some documents before the Sheriff, and told him it was his duty to serve them on the Loomises at all hazards. After the Judge retired the Sheriff took a revolver from a nook in the wall, and said that that was the only document he would serve on the Loomises. A Vigilance Committee was organized. They resolved to burn the Loomis mansion and hang every person found within it. The Sheriff and a strong posse went to the place early on Sunday morning, June 17, to serve half a dozen warrants. He was followed by over sixty persons well armed. The house was surrounded before day break, and the inmates were warned to make no resistance. Most of the family were handcuffed. The house was searched and silks, satins, furs, dress goods, and other stolen property were found. While the Sheriff was searching the barns and out houses the vigilants fired the house, and it was burned to the ground with all its contents. Cornelia and the old lady tried to save some of the valuables, but they were summarily taken from them and thrown into the flames. All the outbuildings but the negro shanty on the hill were destroyed. The only things saved were a valuable horse belonging to Grove, and some beds for the old lady and Cornelia, who retired to the shanty on the hill. Those caught in the house were Grove, Plumb, the old lady, Cornelia, a son of Wheeler, John Stoner, John Smith, Elizabeth Calkins, Adelaide Glasier (now Plumb’s wife), Hester Crandall, and Nellie Smith. Plumb and John Stoner were hanged to the limb of a sugar maple fronting the house to extort a confession. Plumb was hanged twice. Having been resuscitated with much difficulty, he promised to tell all he knew and lead an honest life if his life was spared. He said the Maurice Terry’s barn and Ephriam Conger’s building were burned by Tom Mott, and that he and his brothers paid him to do it. He declared that Mott was the man who shot Filkins the second time. He was then taken to Morrisville jail, convicted of stealing, fined $100 and sent to jail for ninety days. The family afterward sued the county for $22,000 damages, and recovered $1,000.

  After Wash’s death the gang went to pieces. Grove retired to a little farm on the edge of the swamp and Plumb remained on the homestead. I paid him a visit. The bark was peeled from the limb on which he was hanged, and the blackened cellar and rusty farm implements told the story of retribution. Everything had gone to rack and ruin. He declared that the house was plundered before it was burned. He said the mob brought a keg of powder with them, and wanted to lock the whole family in a room and burn them alive and that there was not a decent man among them. They stole $585 in money from his sister, and carried off $386 belonging to the girl Crandall. No papers were served and “the Sheriff went back on the hill when the rope was put around his neck.” Grove died a year or more ago.

  20

  Jimmy Logue and Alphonso Cutaiar, Career Criminals (1850–1880s)

  Jimmy Logue was a notorious robber and thief, especially in the Philadelphia, Pennsylvania area. But he also committed robberies in New York State, Massachusetts, and elsewhere. He was first convicted when he was only fifteen years old, and continued his pilfering ways his entire life, except during intervals when he was imprisoned. Jimmy’s third wife, Joanna, disappeared in Philadelphia while Jimmy was away in Boston, helping out in a bank heist. Jimmy was suspected. Her body was not discovered for many years, and his stepson (or perhaps nephew—accounts vary) confessed to her murder.

  Strange Story of Crime

  Philadelphia Detectives Unravel a Mystery.

  Sixteen Years Ago the Wife of Logue, the Bank Robber, Disappeared—Three Years Ago Her Skeleton Was Found Under the Floor of a House in Philadelphia—Last Month Logue, a Fugitive from Justice, Surrendered—Now the Son of Another of His Former Wives Is Arrested for the Murder.

  Philadelphia, April 28.—While the larger portion of Philadelphia’s population was attending church today there lay on a desk in a dingy little room down town the skull of a murdered woman. Around it were grouped a half-dozen newspaper men, two doctors and Coroner Samuel H. Ashbridge and Detective Geyer. There was unfolded a story of crime. The central figure in the story is James E. Logue, known to the police departments of the continent as ‘‘Jimmy” Logue, burglar, bank robber, and one of the most notorious all-round crooks in the annals of crime. The case turned upon the murder of one of this man’s wives—Johanna Logue—but it was a fitting climax to a story that proved that he was not her murderer. On the night of February 22, 1879, Johanna Logue vanished as suddenly and as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed her. The newspapers at the time were full of it, rewards were offered, and no one was more indefatigable in his efforts to locate the woman than Logue. But there was no trace of her, and gradually the case faded from memory. On October 16, 1893, fourteen years afterward, a carpenter repairing the house at 1250 North Eleventh street tore up some boards in the kitchen, and there found the skeleton of a woman. Clinging to the bones of the throat was a handkerchief, tied in a knot, and next to the mouldering bones lay the soles of a woman’s shoes. This was all that remained of Johanna Logue. When it became known that Logue and his wife had lived in the house suspicion at once pointed to him as the murderer, but all search for him proved unavailing.

  White-haired Fugitive Surrenders.

  On the evening of March 5th last the door bell of Coroner Ashbridge’s private residence rang, and, answering it in person, he was confronted by an old white-haired man, who said, abruptly:

  “I am Jimmy Logue, and I have come to give myself up.”

  That was all he said in relation to the case, and the coroner handed him over to the police under an assumed name. From that time on Coroner Ashbridge and Detective Geyer worked together in secret, until they had unraveled the complete story, which culminated a few days ago in the arrest of a man whose identity was not revealed until today.

  He is Alphonso C. Cutaiar, Jr., the illegitimate son of one of Logue’s former alleged wives. He is locked up at the City Hall on the charge of murder, while in a neighboring cell is Logue, held as the star witness.

  Cutaiar’s crime—for he has made a confession, in which he acknowledges causing the woman’s death, though, he asserts, involuntarily—is best understood from a brief recital of Logue’s career.

  Logue’s Love Affairs.

  He was already a notorious character when, in 1858, he was married to Mary Jane Andrews. With her he lived two years, when, without the formality of a divorce, he was wedded to Mary Gahan, who, though she had not before been a wife, was the mother of an eighteen-months-old child, Alphonzo Cutaiar, Jr. Logue and Mary had not lived long together, when he
became enamored of her sister, Johanna Gahan, whom he established in a separate household, paying all expenses until, in 1869, Mary died. Meanwhile, Logue, who had been working hard at his “profession,” fell into the hands of the police for a series of burglaries. On May 23, 1811, he was arraigned at the Central Police-station for sentence; but before the case proceeded, he asked Magistrate Smith to do him a favor first. He wanted to be married to Johanna. The magistrate complied, and Logue, standing in the dock, was married to the woman. Then he was sentenced to seven years in the penitentiary. During this term Johanna boarded in this city, and promptly, upon his release in 1877, Logue came for her.

  They went to New York, where for a time he operated with the equally notorious Peter Burns, who died some years ago in jail in Florence, Italy. Logue raised money in some way, for not long after his release he bought $20,000 worth of government bonds. In February, 1879 Logue and the woman came to this city. Meanwhile, young Cutaiar had become a barber, and Logue bought for him the business of his former employer, William Matthews, at 1248 North Eleventh street, and later bought the adjoining property for $3,150, and fitted it up as a shop for Cutaiar, Logue and Johanna living with him in the dwelling portion, which was expensively furnished.

  Johanna’s Disappearance.

  A few days after this Logue and the woman went to New York for a visit. There Logue fell in with another burglar named George Mason, and on the evening of February 20th the two men left for Boston, telling Johanna they would return shortly. The following Tuesday Logue returned and found his wife gone. He came to Philadelphia and went to his home. There he found Cutaiar, his journeyman, Fritz Eckert, and a young apprentice, named Harry Fricke. Cutaiar told him that the last he had seen of Johanna was on the preceding Saturday. She had come from New York, visited some friends, and spent some time at the barber shop. At seven o’clock in the evening she opened the door of the shop, cried “I am off,” and was gone. He had noticed that she was intoxicated, and called to her to wait until he was at leisure, so that he could escort her to the railroad station, but she did not wait. Logue at once thought that she had eloped with Peter Burns, but it was found that Burns had sailed alone for Europe, and all trace of the woman was lost. With the assistance of her brother, Peter Gahan, Logue searched the country for her, but to no avail.