The Boy Nevada Killed

by Janice Oberding

  The writ’s last argument is as follows:

  (e) That said action wherein said Floyd Loveless was convicted, was prosecuted on the part of the State of Nevada by one George Wright, an attorney at law of the State of Nevada; that said George Wright was not at the time said action was tried and appeal taken, a duly qualified or acting District Attorney or Deputy District Attorney of the County of Elko, or of the State of Nevada, as made, provided and required by the statutes of the State of Nevada; that said prosecution by said George Wright was illegal and in violation of the due process clauses of the Constitution of the State of Nevada and the Constitution of the United States.

  The Supreme Court of Nevada disagreed with this final argument. And the petition was denied with the following:

  IN CHAMBERS PRESENT: Ho. We. E. Orr, C.J,. and Hon. E.J.L. Taber, J.

  A petition for Writ of Habeas Corpus and Stay of Execution having been filed in the above entitled matter and submitted to Court for consideration and determination and the Court having duly considered the said application and being advised in the premises it is ordered that the petition be denied and a stay of execution refused on the grounds and for the reason that the said petition does not state facts sufficient to warrant the issuance of the writ prayed for. Done at Carson City, Nevada this 29th day of September 1944.

  AN EYE FOR AN EYE

  And strange it was to think that he had such a debt to pay.

  —Oscar Wilde, “Ballad of Reading Gaol”

  It was over. Word was sent to Warden Sheehy; the execution would proceed. The mood at the prison turned gloomy. Inmates and guards spoke in hushed tones. Everyone liked the kid from Indiana who had gotten himself into a jam he couldn’t get out of.

  Work resumed in the gas chamber. As was legally required, Warden Sheehy had already sent out official invitations for the execution of Floyd Loveless. Except for four men from Carlin, no one would come. So it fell to prison guards, the prison purchasing agent and the janitor to watch what others would not.

  With the legal fights all lost, there was nothing more to do.

  In the condemned cell, Floyd was more scared than he had ever been in his life. Did it hurt to die? Father Buell had told him that he would be going to a better place, and he believed that. There was nothing else to believe in, nothing left for him in this life. His spiritual advisor, J.C. MacCaffrey, came to see him. They talked awhile, assuring one another that they would one day meet again in eternity. They said their farewells, and MacCaffrey left.

  Floyd was alone. There was an everlasting eternity waiting for him. Father Buell came next. And then, it was time. He had long ago promised himself that if this day ever came, he would not cry. Even as they came for him, even as Father Buell followed along with him and the guards, he would not cry. It was a solemn procession to the gas chamber. They stopped at the doorway. Only he would enter. They were not going where he was going, not tonight.

  Any last words? No. What could he say now that he hadn’t already said? He stepped in. Trembling, he sat down in the strange metal chair and watched as two men deftly tightened leather straps around his wrists and his ankles so that he couldn’t escape. But where would he run?

  “It happens pretty fast,” one of the men assured him. “They say it’s much easier if you inhale deeply when you hear the pellets drop,” he told Floyd matter-of-factly.

  Witnesses to an execution stand outside the gas chamber at the Nevada State Prison in 1932. Author’s collection.

  Floyd nodded and glanced through the viewing window; most of those who stared back at him were prison employees. Some were cold-eyed strangers. He would never know that the four men had come all the way from Carlin to speak against his commutation and to watch him die, to see the justice for the killing of a friend.

  A stethoscope was attached to him so that the doctor outside the chamber would know when death occurred. He may have been curious, but he didn’t ask about it. What did anything matter now anyway? At seventeen years old, there was so much about life he didn’t know, so much he would never know. Beyond the prison walls, the sun was slipping behind the Sierra. It was dinnertime for most people in Carson City. Back in Indiana, it was closer to bedtime. Was anyone in the family thinking about him?

  Their work completed, the men stepped out of the chamber, sealing the door tightly behind them. He was going to die. And there was nothing anyone could do for him. His heart was pounding. Would it hurt? He wished he could go back to Plainfield and start over. It was so quiet in here, sealed away. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; he could almost hear its beating.

  He didn’t see Warden Sheehy give the signal, but he heard the pellets drop. They made a fizzling noise. Then, he could smell them. He took a deep breath. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death…”

  His heart was still beating, but he no longer heard it, nor could he hear the whirring fans that sucked the noxious fumes out into the night air. Those who had watched him die silently shuffled out of the viewing area.

  Welcome to Stockwell sign. Photo by Bill Oberding.

  When it was safe, all the deadly gas expelled from the chamber, attendants went in and removed the body.

  There are certain protocols involved with an execution. In 1944, in addition to the six witnesses, state law required that a physician be present to observe and record the death. Dr. G.H. Ross kept the following written record of Floyd Loveless’s execution:

  Prisoner entered chamber 6:22 p.m.

  Strapped to chair 6:24 p.m.

  Door closed 6:26 p.m.

  HCN gas rose to face 6:28 p.m.

  Apparently unconscious 6:29 p.m.

  Heart stopped beating 6:29 p.m.

  Certainly unconscious 6:30 p.m.

  Respiration stopped 6:30 p.m.

  Blower started 6:40 p.m.

  Body removed from chamber 6:59 p.m.

  Death announced 7:00 p.m.

  ON THE BANKS OF THE WABASH FAR AWAY

  In Indiana, Floyd Loveless’s family watched their clocks and waited. They held out hope until the end. “None of us thought any state would do that to a child,” Nettie Loveless wrote to Warden Sheehy in a letter dated October 12, 1944.

  By 9:30 p.m., they knew. Floyd was gone. He was just too young to die. Older and wiser now, Ray Loveless couldn’t change the past any more than he could bring Floyd back to life. But he could bring him back home to Indiana.

  At the Western Union office, he scribbled out the form and handed it to the telegraph operator: “To Warden Carson City Penitentiary Please send Floyd Loveless remains to L.B. Loveless Stockwell Indiana. R.C. Loveless.”

  A return telegram explained that there would be a fee involved in shipping the body to him: eleven dollars and some cents.

  The next day, Ray Loveless wrote back: “To Richard H. Sheehy I will pay transportation charges when remains arrive at destination. R.C. Loveless.”

  Floyd Loveless was yesterday’s news. Still, the Reno Evening Gazette had something to say about the execution in its September 30, 1944 editorial:

  A 16 year old youth is not too young to be held accountable for his actions. Loveless was as mature as thousands of boys now in the armed services. And this youth’s record indicated that he was an incorrigible criminal, past rehabilitation. This was a tragic story—one which can carry no satisfaction to anyone—for it reflects some failures on the part of society, pitiful blemishes in the youth’s early environment.

  Darkness was spreading across the night sky. A hearse pulled up to the train station, and a coffin was quickly removed and loaded on board. The train rolled out of Carson City, heading north across Washoe Valley toward Reno, where its cargo was loaded onto an eastbound train. Just as sunlight lit up the Ruby Mountains, the train, its whistle screaming, rolled through Carlin, then Elko and on toward Indiana.

  LOOSE ENDS

  Carson City, Nevada

  Oct. 1, 1944

  Dear Mrs. Loveless,

&
nbsp; The enclosed news clipping from the Reno Gazette will explain the passing of your Grandson Floyd Loveless who died here on the night of September 29, at 6:30PM.

  You will also note that Floyd had embrassed [sic] the Roman Catholic Faith shortly before he died. In fact I was his spiritual sponser [sic] (or God Father) at the time of his baptism, which was conferred upon him at his own request by the Rev. Fr. H.A. Buell of Gardnerville, Nev.

  The story of his conversion to Catholicism is as follows: An inmate pal of his by the name of Frank R. Black, who is also a Catholic, introduced him to the doctrines of that religion and after attending the services conducted every week for these who wish to attend them, Floyd himself asked the attending Priest for instructions which were gladly given him.

  The change of attitude which took place in him after his conversion was a source of delightful amazement to everyone who knew him. He was not only heartily sorry for what he had done; but forgave all those whom he had formerly considered enemies. He also had such complete confidence in this new gift of Faith in God that he looked forward to where he was going as a pleasant journey into an eternity of happiness.

  In accordance with the instructions received from his Father, the remains were shipped from here last night, (September 30th) to Lafayette, Indiana and ought to arrive there about noon this coming Tuesday October 3rd.

  Having died with all the religious rites of the Catholic Church, Floyd Francis (he took the latter name at Baptism) is entitled to a Catholic Burial. So if this rightful privilege is agreeable to you and his Father, then all you have to do is see the Pastor of the most convenient Catholic Church in Lafayette, and they will gladly conform with your wishes.

  Rest assured that no matter what Floyd may have been guilty of during his lifetime, he died a good God fearing Christian. His child-like simplicity and sincere faith in his religious convictions was something to be marveled at. I talked with him an hour before he passed on; and the cheerful, smiling farewell with which he greeted me was a scene I shall never forget. With kindest regards, I remain most sincerely,

  J.C. MacCaffrey

  Four days after Floyd Loveless was executed, the train bearing his body pulled into Stockwell. He was home. It was a somber, gray day that gave way to rain as the casket was being unloaded for a final journey. It was still raining when friends and family gathered on Thursday afternoon for a funeral at the home of his paternal grandparents, Nettie and Leonard Loveless.

  They were Methodists. His would be a Methodist funeral. After a brief sermon by C.V. Roush, pastor of the Stockwell Methodist Church, pallbearers (all Floyd’s relatives) carried the casket to an awaiting vehicle.

  At the Fairhaven Cemetery in Mulberry, friends carrying flowers joined Floyd’s father, stepmother, grandparents and other relatives as they followed the casket to the graveside. Floyd would be laid to rest beside his mother in the family plot of his maternal grandparents, Assaba and Abbie Frey.

  Indiana winds were stirring. Raindrops pelted the handful of mourners who had braved the weather and come to Fairhaven. Some of them may have remembered another day, not so long ago, when they all gathered here to bury Hazel Belle and three little boys fidgeted unhappily while their elders stood silent in their grief.

  Fourteen years had come and gone. Nettie blinked back tears. She would forever remember her grandson as the little boy who only wanted someone to love him. Surely he was in a better place now. Her husband touched her gently on the shoulder. She had done all she could do for Floyd. The mourners scurried back to their cars.

  Across the county from Mulberry, Richard H. Sheehy, the warden of the Nevada state prison sat down at his desk. He glanced out the window; the prison yard stood in the golden glow of late afternoon sunshine. The task before him was something he didn’t relish. All along he thought Floyd would get his commutation. He would never understand, but Sheehy was a professional. As such, he had a job to do. What he wrote would be succinct and strike a balance. It must have just the right tone. Sheehy stared at the stack of blank papers and then ratcheted one into position on his typewriter. He thought a moment and started typing.

  October 2, 1944

  Dear Mr. Loveless,

  Enclosed is a letter which your son, Floyd handed me to mail you on September 29th. He instructed me to mail some of his personal effects to his grandmother which I have done today.

  Should you wish any information of any kind please feel free to call upon me.

  Very sincerely yours,

  Richard H. Sheehy

  WARDEN

  October 2, 1944

  Dear Mrs. Loveless,

  I am mailing under separate cover a small package of personal effects your grandson, Floyd asked me to send you. He also asked me to send you any money that he had in his account. Accordingly you will find enclosed a check in the amount of $12.06

  Should you wish information of any kind regarding Floyd please feel free to write me at any time.

  Very sincerely yours,

  Richard H. Sheehy.

  WARDEN

  October 2, 1944

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Whitney:

  Enclosed you will find the letters which Floyd Loveless gave me to mail to you on September 29th. I know that he sincerely appreciated all your efforts on his behalf.

  Thanking you for your interest in Floyd, I remain,

  Very truly yours,

  Richard H. Sheehy

  WARDEN

  ALL SAID AND DONE

  Two weeks would pass before Nettie Loveless responded to Warden Sheehy’s letter.

  October 16. 1944

  Dear Mr. Sheehy,

  I received your letter with the check of my grandson, Floyd’s money. Today I received the package of his personal effects.

  There is one thing we would like to know about Floyd, maybe you can tell us. Did Floyd think we would have him brought home to be buried? We wanted to write and tell him we would but we hated to write and discourage him. Up until the last day we didn’t think any state could do such a thing to so young a boy.

  He always wrote of you and so many out there being so kind to him. I haven’t felt like writing before, but I wish to thank many times for your kindness to Floyd and for you courtesy to me.

  Most Sincerely

  Mrs. L.B. Loveless, Stockwell, Indiana.

  Sheehy had a choice. He could withhold what he knew and spare the family or tell them the truth. Being a man of integrity, he pondered the question before responding. On the October 25, 1944, he wrote:

  Dear Mrs. Loveless,

  In reference to your letter of October 16, 1944, [I] would reply that Floyd understood that he would be buried in the local Carson City Catholic cemetery. He mentioned to me that the expense would no doubt be too great for you to do anything about him.

  I was very glad to read in your letter that he considered that the personnel of this institution treated him kindly. Should there be any further questions you desire to ask please feel free to write to me any time.

  Most Sincerely yours,

  Richard Sheehy, Warden

  Death sentences would continue. And so would the necessary paperwork showing that punishment had been meted out. Six months after Floyd Loveless’s execution, Warden Sheehy filed the warrant of execution. He had done his job; he had overseen the incarceration and carried out the death sentence.

  RETURN OF WARDEN ON WARRANT OF EXECUTION Filed March 26, 1945

  TO THE HONORABLE JUDGE OF THE FOURTH JUDICIAL DISTRICT COURT OF THE STATE OF NEVADA, IN AND FOR THE COUNTY OF ELKO

  I, Richard H. Sheehy, warden of the Nevada State Prison at Carson City, Nevada, do hereby certify that I received the warrant of Execution dated September 8, 1944, and the body of Floyd Loveless having been delivered into my custody on October 7, 1942, by C.L. Smith, Sheriff of Elko County, State of Nevada. I further state that, pursuant to law, I invited a competent physician and not less than six reputable citizens over the age of twenty-one years, to be present at said execution. I further cert
ify that I kept and detained said Floyd Loveless, in close confinement at the Nevada State Prison, at Carson City, Nevada, until the twenty-ninth day of September 1944, at 7:00 PM. At the time of 7:00 PM on September 29, 1944, within the walls of the said State Prison, at Carson City, Nevada, I executed the judgment of the above entitled Court, by then administering to the said Floyd Loveless a sufficient quantity of Lethal Gas to cause death. I further certify that I was present at said execution and that there was also present a competent physician and six reputable citizens, over the age of twenty-one years.

  Richard H. Sheehy, Warden

  Nevada State Prison

  Carson City, Nevada

  Epilogue

  Life went on. Oliver Custer continued to practice law in Reno for several years after the Floyd Loveless case. Judge James Dysart died suddenly at his Elko home on September 11, 1945, less than a year after Loveless’s execution.

  Some of those who’d fought so hard to save Floyd Burton Loveless life were bitter. Mrs. White wrote to Oliver Custer on January 2, 1947:

  Author with Stockwell historian Thelma Brooks Morgan. Photo by Deborah Carr Senger.

  I never met such a bunch of four flushers as I met in Reno after I tried to help that kid. All they are all looking for is prestige and glory. The Editor of the Journal in Reno told me he wanted to write up the Loveless case and you told him the case was getting along very well with out him.…Old Judge Ducker the Supreme Court Justice of Nevada who voted to execute that boy went to meet his reward. I hope Floyd was on the receiving committee. The people of Reno are all sold out to the gambling and vice element that they do not dare to do anything decent for fear of ruffling old man Smith’s feelings—the whole town preachers and all are sold out to Harold’s Club. Even the university has sold out to Smith [the writer was referring to Harold Smith Sr., owner of Harold’s Club, one of Reno, Nevada’s earliest and most popular casinos]. He will be telling them next, who can attend and who cannot.