The Pinks

by Chris Enss

  31. Ibid.

  32. Ibid., pp. 10–15.

  33. Ibid.

  34. Ibid., pp. 17–26.

  35. Ibid.

  36. Ibid.

  37. Ibid., pp. 21–25.

  38. Ibid.

  39. Ibid., pp. 38–53.

  40. Ibid.

  41. Ibid.

  42. Ibid., pp. 57–62.

  43. Ibid.

  44. Ibid.

  45. Ibid.

  46. Public Ledger, July 4, 1860; Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, October 6, 1883.

  47. Pinkerton, The Expressman and the Detective, pp. 62–67.

  48. Ibid.

  49. Ibid.

  50. Ibid., pp. 69–74.

  51. Ibid.

  52. Ibid., pp. 82–101.

  53. Pinkerton, The Expressman and the Detective, pp. 82–101; Alabama Daily Confederation, June 22, 1860; Public Ledger, June 4, 1860.

  Chapter Two

  Operative Mrs. R. C. Potter

  In the spring of 1858, a friendly, two-horse race attracted the attention of many residents in the town of Atkinson, Mississippi. Mrs. Franklin Robbins and Mrs. R. C. Potter, both guests at one of the community’s finest hotels, had decided to see which one of their mounts was the fastest. They had begun their afternoon ride in the company of several others, enjoying the balmy air, blooming flowers, and waving foliage of the sunny, Southern landscape. Exploring a path that led to a bubbling stream, Mrs. Robbins and Mrs. Potter had lagged far behind the party. They decided to narrow the gap when talk about who could make that happen first arose.1

  For a few moments, both the horses the women were riding ran at an uneven but steady pace; then suddenly Mrs. Robbins’s horse bolted ahead. Her ride didn’t stop until they had reached the business district of town. Mrs. Robbins slowed the flyer to a trot before she glanced back to check on her competitor. Mrs. Potter was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Robbins backtracked a bit, her eyes scanning the road she’d traveled. Her horse reared and threatened to continue the run, but she restrained the animal and pulled tightly on the reins. “Mrs. Potter!” she called out frantically. “Mrs. Potter?”

  Mrs. Robbins’s urgent cries drew the attention of the people with whom the pair had started the ride. They had congregated in front of the hotel when they heard Mrs. Robbins call for help. Not only did the fellow riders hurry to the scene, but men and women at various stores and saloons also rushed to Mrs. Robbins’s aid.

  Through her tears she explained what had transpired and asked volunteers to accompany her in search of Mrs. Potter. Many quickly agreed, and wasted no time in following Mrs. Robbins. She spurred her horse back along the roadway they had just traveled. The riders spread out in hopes of finding a trail leading to where Mrs. Potter’s mount might have carried her.

  One rider spotted a woman’s scarf caught in the low-hanging branch of an oak tree and made his find public. Tracks near the tree led searchers to believe Mrs. Potter’s horse might have been spooked and out of control. After several tense moments trekking back and forth over field and stream, Mrs. Potter was located. She had been thrown from her ride and was lying motionless in a meadow adjacent to the home of the county clerk, Alexander Drysdale.

  Mrs. Robbins rode to Drysdale’s house and informed him of what had happened. In less than five minutes, he had improvised a stretcher out of a wicker settee and a mattress and had summoned four of his hired hands to help retrieve the injured Mrs. Potter. She was groaning in pain. She told those attending to her that her head hurt. In a few moments, the hired hands had lifted her off the ground and gently placed her in the settee. While being carried to Drysdale’s home, Mrs. Potter complained that her ribs were sore and her back was aching. Mr. Drysdale sent Mrs. Robbins and the other riders on their way and requested that Mrs. Robbins return with a physician. He promised that he and his wife would keep Mrs. Potter comfortable while waiting for the doctor to arrive.

  Mrs. Potter was grateful for the Drysdales’ consideration and thanked them over and over again. The hired hands were instructed to put the injured woman in one of the guest bedrooms and see to her every need.

  When the physician arrived, he examined Mrs. Potter but could not determine the extent of her injuries. He recommended that she remain in bed and not be moved. He didn’t think she would need to be confined to bed rest for more than two weeks. Mrs. Potter asked if she could be moved to the hotel, as she did not want to take advantage of the Drysdales’ hospitality. Mrs. Drysdale, however, refused to hear of such a thing as the removal of a sick person from her house, and said that she would enjoy Mrs. Potter’s company. Mrs. Potter agreed to stay with the Drysdales until she could move about without assistance.

  No one suspected that Mrs. Potter was an operative for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. They had no idea her real name was Kate Warne, and that she had been tasked with infiltrating the Drysdales’ home to locate a murderer. As Mrs. Potter, Kate had pretended that her horse had been frightened and out of control, eventually throwing her—that she’d been deposited purely by chance near the Drysdales’ house, and that the injuries sustained in the fall were substantial enough to render her too fragile to move.

  Mrs. Potter had arrived in Atkinson, Mississippi, with another operative acting as her father and using the name Mr. C. B. Rockwell, less than two weeks prior to the riding mishap. The fine-looking, white-haired gentleman had remained in town long enough to see that the woman portraying his daughter was nicely settled at the hotel. Once he was satisfied that she was comfortable and didn’t need him, he left. Mr. Rockwell told the proprietors of the hotel that he had to return to their home in Jacksonville, Florida, as his business required his immediate assistance.

  Mrs. Potter, described by guests as a “distinguished-looking brunette,” claimed to be a widow with no children. According to Pinkerton, “she was tall and graceful, and her entertaining conversation made her a general favorite among the ladies at the hotel.” She was not an invalid, but she told people the family physician had recommended she escape the rainy, foggy weather of Florida and take in the dry air of northern Mississippi for a few months. Mrs. Potter made friends easily and was much sought after by her fellow guests. Her true motive for her congenial disposition was to acquire information about the townspeople who came and went, and to ascertain which individuals behaved suspiciously, and why.

  Allan Pinkerton began his notes on this case that involved Kate Warne with news of a letter he had received from Thomas McGregor, cashier of the City Bank of Atkinson. Thomas had been asked by bank officials to write Pinkerton for help in solving a brutal killing.

  A teller by the name of George Gordon had been slain, and $130,000 stolen. Pinkerton hurried from Chicago to Mississippi to investigate. He traveled to Atkinson using an assumed name and claimed to be a cotton speculator; only Thomas McGregor and two other key representatives of the bank knew his true identity. In order to familiarize himself with the town and some of the people who lived there, Pinkerton roamed about Atkinson for a few hours before stopping by the bank. McGregor met Pinkerton when he arrived at the business and then introduced him to the bank president, Peter Gordon, no relation to George Gordon, and the vice president, a Mr. Bannatine.

  All three men described the victim, George Gordon, as an industrious man with an obliging disposition and courteous manners. He had a spotless character and forfeited any leisure time in favor of work. George had been with the bank for five years. Pinkerton asked if he had any questionable friends or if he’d been involved romantically with any “fast” women, and was told that George kept mainly to himself and was “unencumbered by female companionship.” He had a habit of remaining in the bank after office hours to maintain the books. Not only was he a teller, but he also acted as bookkeeper. His working late to accommodate regular customers who came in with a deposit wasn’t unusual.

  Two customers in particular had a habit of
coming late to the bank when George was on duty. One was a jeweler named Mr. Flanders. McGregor informed Pinkerton that Mr. Flanders liked to put his most valuable pieces of jewelry in the bank at the close of his workday. The second customer was the county clerk, Alexander Drysdale, who used to stop by to make deposits when parties had paid money to him after banking hours. Alexander and George were friends, sometimes sitting and visiting together until nine or ten in the evening.

  As Pinkerton’s questions continued, he learned that George always had a set of vault keys with him. McGregor told Pinkerton that he had warned George against carrying the keys home with him. During harvest season, a large amount of money was kept at the bank, and bank executives worried that someone might try to take the keys from him. George assured the men he would be careful. A week after their discussion, George was found murdered.

  Mr. Peter Gordon described the scene of the crime to Pinkerton in great detail. George’s body was found in the morning when Mr. Gordon arrived at work at ten in the morning. He knew immediately something was wrong because the doors were still locked. Mr. Gordon’s clerk arrived on the scene just as he was entering through an unlocked side door. As the two men were preparing to open for business, they found George’s body on the floor between his desk and the vault door. The direction of the blood spray indicated that he had been standing at his desk when he was struck from behind.

  George had received three blows to the back of his head with a hammer. The hammer was lying near his body, covered with blood and hair. According to Pinkerton’s notes, the first blow was dealt just in back of the left ear while George was standing at his desk; he had staggered backwards two or three steps before falling, and the second and third blows had been struck as he lay on the floor.

  “The scene was most ghastly,” Mr. Gordon conveyed to Pinkerton. “George’s body lay in a pool of blood, while the desks, chairs, table, and wall were splattered with large drops which had spirited out as the blows were struck. I shall never forget that terrible morning, and sometimes I awake with a horrible choking sensation and think that I have just renewed the sickening experience of that day.

  “Well, I immediately suspected that the murder had been committed to enable the murderer to rob the bank. I knew that George had no enemies who would seek his life, and there could be no other object in killing him inside the bank.”

  Mr. Gordon told Pinkerton that the outer door of the vault was standing open, and before he had looked to see what was stolen, he’d checked to make sure George was indeed dead. “His body was cold,” he explained. “I sent my clerk to get the sheriff and the coroner. After he ran out [of] the building, another teller and I inspected the vault. I found the keys in the lock of the inner door, and on opening the latter, we saw that everything inside was in great confusion.

  “Without making any examination, I closed and locked both doors, and sealed the keyholes with tape and sealing wax. I determined to leave everything just as it was until the inquest should be held. The sheriff and coroner soon arrived and a coroner’s jury was impaneled immediately, as, by that time, the news had spread all over town, and the bank was surrounded by nearly all the best men in the place. In summoning the jury, the coroner put down for foreman the name of Mr. Drysdale, George’s most intimate friend, but it was found that he was not in the crowd outside, and when they sent for him, he begged so hard to be excused that he was let off.”

  Mr. Gordon fought back tears as he continued. Pinkerton was sensitive of his feelings but needed to know more about where the body had been found, and what else was around George’s remains. Mr. Gordon remembered that a $100 bill from the Planters’ Bank of Georgia was clutched tightly in George’s hand. George had fallen on his hand when he was hit, and the murderer must have missed it. Mr. Gordon turned the bill bank note stained with blood over to Pinkerton.

  Pinkerton learned more from McGregor about clues left behind that might be of significance. Something had been burned in the fireplace. Clothes were suspected, because several buttons were found among the ashes. A charred, twisted piece of paper was also found. Pinkerton inspected the paper, which proved to be a fragment of a bill for $927.78. The signature and part of the date could be read as well. The signature was that of Alexander Drysdale.

  There was no question in Pinkerton’s mind that county clerk Drysdale was George Gordon’s murderer, but the only evidence he had against him was circumstantial. Bank executives wanted the culprit apprehended, but just as importantly, they wanted to recover the stolen $130,000. Pinkerton devised a plan to remedy both problems.

  At first the bank executives were reluctant to go along with Pinkerton’s scheme, but eventually they acquiesced. To implement his plan, Pinkerton called not only on Kate Warne, but also Timothy Webster, and a third operative named Green. Playing the part of a businessman from Baltimore named John Andrews, Timothy arrived at Atkinson a week prior to Kate, and led those who met him to think he was rich and interested in expanding his holdings in Mississippi. He registered as a guest at the same hotel with Kate, and was regarded by the other patrons at the establishment as a man of great importance and influence.

  Posing as Mrs. R. C. Potter, Kate made fast friends with her fellow lodgers. It was through one of these lodgers that she met Alexander Drysdale’s wife. Mrs. Drysdale was kind, but seemed sad to Mrs. Potter. She asked her friends if Mrs. Drysdale was feeling well and was told that the woman was preoccupied with worry over her husband. It seemed that Mr. Drysdale had become withdrawn and deeply troubled in a short period of time. Some speculated that he was having financial difficulties, and others believed his problems stemmed from an overwhelming sense of grief. George Gordon’s death had so affected him that he couldn’t even attend his funeral.

  It wasn’t until Alexander made the acquaintance of John Andrews that his peculiarities lessened. When Alexander learned that John was interested in investing in land in the area, he invited him to visit his plantation. Alexander hoped to persuade John to purchase the property next to his. He was of the opinion that if John bought the struggling estate, the two could combine their efforts to improve the land and increase the value of the individual parcels.

  The two men enjoyed a pleasant ride to the plantation. Timothy Webster reported to Pinkerton that Alexander was “a man of fine education, and fascinating manners, who, for reasons not made known to his loved ones, was disappointed, sour, and morose.” By the time the pair had reached Alexander’s home, they had become well acquainted and agreed to go hunting the following day.

  The scenery around the Drysdales’ sprawling house was bold and picturesque. The road they traveled passed through heavy moss-covered timber at times, crossing many ravines and rocky gorges as it followed the general direction of the winding stream. After a pleasant night’s sleep, John and Alexander set off on their hunting trip. Game was plentiful, and the two were so preoccupied with the success of their venture that they lost track of time. It was dusk when they started back to the Drysdale plantation, and the mists of night began to form and spread over the landscape. John rode ahead of Alexander. Both were too tired to talk about the day’s activities. Suddenly Alexander stopped his horse and let out a gasp. John rode back to find out what was wrong. All the color was gone from Alexander’s face; he was trembling violently and could barely speak. When he finally found his voice, all he could say was “Look there.”

  Pinkerton’s report of what transpired that night noted that John found Alexander extremely frightened and nervous. According to John, “His lips were ashy,” Pinkerton wrote, “and he had a convulsive grasp on the reins of the horse.” He was pointing at something in the near distance. “It was a figure of a young man walking through the timbers, turning his eyes neither to the left or the right,” Pinkerton recorded. “He [the young man] was apparently twenty-five or twenty-six years of age. He wore a business suit of light gray clothes, but he had no hat on his head and his curly hair was tossed lightly by
the breeze. And when he passed through a clearing and the light from a rising full moon shone on him, it seemed he was more ghost than man. As he moved farther along, the back of his head was more directly exposed and presented a ghastly site [sic]. The thick brown locks were matted together in a mass of gore, and large drops of blood slowly trickled down upon his coat; the whole back of his skull seemed to be crushed in, while the deadly pallor of his face gave him the appearance of a corpse.”

  Alexander called out to the apparition but the figure continued on its course. John asked him who he was speaking to, and Alexander pointed toward the timber. When John informed Alexander that there was no one there, he became frantic. John tried to convince him that the moonlight must have been playing tricks on him. Alexander was convinced he’d seen a ghost. He made John promise not to mention the incident to his wife.

  Mrs. Drysdale could see that her husband was upset when the pair returned to the plantation. Alexander explained that he wasn’t feeling well and needed to go to bed. He stayed alone in his room for days. His wife offered to call for a doctor, but he refused to see anyone.

  After several days, Alexander emerged from hiding and agreed to spend time again with John. He had taken up drinking and looked haggard, but would not confide in his wife or John the source of his distress. It wasn’t until Mrs. Potter was thrown from her horse and the Drysdales came to her rescue that Alexander was distracted enough to focus on something other than his own problems.

  Mrs. Potter’s room at the Drysdales’ home was next to her hosts’. One morning she overheard an interesting conversation which she included in her report to Pinkerton. The couple had awakened at seven in the morning, and Alexander opened the curtains. Shortly after that he let out a sharp cry and fell into a chair. Mrs. Drysdale was at his side in a moment to find out what had happened. He reluctantly admitted to not feeling well. His wife shared with him that she wasn’t surprised, because he’d been plagued with a terrible nosebleed overnight. Blood had been found on the sheets and pillows and on the floor leading out the bedroom door, downstairs, out the front door, and all the way out the front gate.