By N. H. Crowell.
An account of a tragic happening which abruptly broke in upon the peaceful routine of life in a small American village. But for the important part played by the cross-country telephones it is probable that the desperate trio with whom the narrative deals would have got clear away to continue their career of crime.
An account of a tragic happening which abruptly broke in upon the peaceful routine of life in a small American village. But for the important part played by the cross-country telephones it is probable that the desperate trio with whom the narrative deals would have got clear away to continue their career of crime.
Thefall of the year 1901 was remarkable for the number of bank robberies occurring in the States of Iowa, South Dakota, and Minnesota. The daring of the travelling bands of criminals, commonly known as "yeggmen," manifested itself in frequent and generally successful attempts on the vaults of various financial institutions. In Iowa alone there had been no fewer than thirteen robberies without a single arrest up to the date of the Greenville Bank case, which I am about to set forth.
On Saturday morning, November 16th, 1901, a Greenville business man, rising early, was attracted by a peculiar object lying in the middle of the main thoroughfare. Greenville, being only a small village of some three hundred people, possessed but one principal street, which ran through it from east to west. Upon approaching the object the man saw that it was the door of a bank-safe, and his surprise may be imagined when, looking about him, he discovered that the large glass front of the bank building near by was entirely shattered.
In a very few moments he had gathered an anxious crowd, and the more daring ventured into the ruined building. It then became apparent that the safe had been blown open by nitroglycerine and its precious contents carried away. On the bank counters were found a small dark lantern, two bars of soap, some chisels, and a silk handkerchief. The completeness of the job showed it to have been the work of persons who were either unacquainted with the terrific power of the explosive used, or of extraordinary daring and recklessness.
The cashier of the bank, Mr. E. B. Harrington, lost no time in reaching the local telephone office, from which point he immediately notified the sheriff of the county at Spencer, nine miles north, of the robbery, afterwards reporting it to the town marshals of all the surrounding towns.
While thus engaged an employé of the Minneapolis and St. Louis Railway arrived with the intelligence that the station tool-house had been broken open and a hand-car taken therefrom. The operators on the line at Spencer to the north, and at Sioux Rapids to the south, were at once called up, but both protested that no hand-car had passed their station at any hour of the night. The mystery was solved half an hour later by the discovery of a broken hand-car at the crossing of the Rock Island and Minneapolis and St. Louis roads, one mile south of the town. It was evident that the robbers, fleeing on the car, had met with an accident and had been forced to abandon it. The clue was serviceable, however, in that it pointed out the direction of the miscreants' escape, and the officials at Marathon, Laurens, and Albert City—towns in the general line of flight—were promptly advised to be on the alert to intercept all suspicious characters and hold them till examined.
At this juncture a young lady employed in the Spencer telephone exchange imparted the information that she had observed three nasty-looking strangers the night before eating a late supper at a Spencer restaurant. The restaurant proprietor corroborated this, and added that one of the men was of very dark complexion, and, in his judgment, was a mulatto.
The wires were again resorted to and neighbouring officials given the fresh information. At nine o'clock on the morning of the robbery the marshals of every place within a radius of forty miles were in possession of the facts, and had trusted deputies guarding all approaches to their respective towns. Assuming it to be a fact that the robbery had been committed by two white men and one black man, who were now travelling on foot in a south-easterly direction, it seemed but a question of hours before they would be halted by some one of the representatives of the law.
An hour passed by, then two, and a third. Not a word came from Marathon, the nearest town in the line of flight. It was impossible for the men to escape by train, as all depôts were under close surveillance; it was equally impossible to conceal themselves in a farming community so thickly inhabited as the one they were now traversing. It appeared inevitable, therefore, that their whereabouts must soon be reported.
Just before noon a farmer living five miles east of Sioux Rapids drove into that town and, upon being questioned, stated that he had given threestrangers breakfast less than an hour before. He stated that one was a negro, and that all three were well armed and were apparently desperate characters. Upon being informed that the trio had burglarized the Greenville Bank, the farmer was considerably surprised, but was able to give a minute description of the robbers to the marshal.
It being now evident that the men were heading for Albert City, a small town on the Milwaukee railroad, fifteen miles to the south-east, Marshal Snyder, of Sioux Rapids, lost no time in picking a posse to aid him in the capture of the desperate men. In twenty minutes he, with three others, whirled away in a carriage drawn by the fleetest team in the town. Marshal Snyder knew that a freight train was due to leave Albert City shortly after the dinner-hour, and he hoped to reach the depôt in time to thwart this method of escape.
While Snyder and his deputies were speeding toward Albert City, the town marshal of that little place, Mr. C. J. Lodine, received definite word by telephone that the robbers were moving in his direction. Barely had he hung up the instrument when he learnt that three men answering the descriptions sent out were in the waiting-room of the Albert City depôt, awaiting the arrival of the freight train, concerning which they had been questioning the agent.
Marshal Lodine, a brave and efficient officer, knew that there was no time to lose. The train was due in a very few minutes, and he felt that upon him devolved the success or failure of all the efforts that had been put forth for the capture of the three criminals.
Seizing a Winchester rifle, he started out to secure men to assist him in the capture. No one refused his call. He darted into a forage store, and the proprietor grasped his hat and followed readily. A doctor's office came next, and the physician was added to the little party. At the bank he secured the cashier, while a farmer who was hitching up his team joined him with alacrity. In the space of ten minutes Lodine had five armed and determined men behind him, and speedily made his way to the waiting-room of the little depôt.
Far to the north sounded the whistle of the approaching freight train, and the posse stepped a trifle faster at its summons. They knew the crucial moment was soon to arrive.
Down the length of the narrow platform they walked and approached the door of the waiting-room. With his men close at his back Marshal Lodine entered, and located his men seated in the corner of the room. Rifle in hand, he took a step in their direction and commanded:—
"Hands up! We want you!"
"THE THREE MEN WHIPPED OUT REVOLVERS AND OPENED A FURIOUS FIRE."
"THE THREE MEN WHIPPED OUT REVOLVERS AND OPENED A FURIOUS FIRE."
"THE THREE MEN WHIPPED OUT REVOLVERS AND OPENED A FURIOUS FIRE."
Immediately, without warning or replying, the three men whipped out revolvers andopened a furious fire. Marshal Lodine was hit in the body and staggered out on to the platform, where he dropped the rifle. Mr. M. H. Conlin, a farmer, snatched it up and ran for cover from the galling fusillade that was being poured in his direction.
The posse, unprepared for such an unexpected onslaught, scattered wildly, and as they ran the desperadoes emerged upon the platform and fired repeatedly upon them. Lodine, sorely wounded, secreted himself near the depôt, while Conlin and the forage-store proprietor, John Sundblad, dropped behind a pile of rocks. Conlin was uninjured, but a bullet found poor Sundblad, and he fell writhing in agony.
JOHN SUNDBLAD, WHO DIED FROM THE EFFECTS OF THE WOUND RECEIVED IN THE FIGHT.From a Photograph.
JOHN SUNDBLAD, WHO DIED FROM THE EFFECTS OF THE WOUND RECEIVED IN THE FIGHT.From a Photograph.
JOHN SUNDBLAD, WHO DIED FROM THE EFFECTS OF THE WOUND RECEIVED IN THE FIGHT.
From a Photograph.
Having cleared the field, the robbers ran across the railroad tracks and entered a barn belonging to one Johnson. Finding a horse therein, one of the white men led it out and began a hurried attempt to hitch it up to a buggy standing near, being protected in his efforts by the negro, who stood by firing at every hiding-place where lurked a member of the posse.
From his cover behind the rock-pile Farmer Conlin began shooting at the horse, intending to kill it and thus prevent escape by that means. In his excitement, and being under a severe fire, Conlin was unsuccessful, and desisted. A moment later, however, as the men were about to leap into the buggy, he resolved to make one more effort. At the crack of his rifle the white man dropped to the earth, struck squarely in the breast. The negro at once ran up and stripped his fallen comrade of his guns and money.
At this point the freight train drew in and separated the combatants. A delay ensued, during which the two remaining robbers leaped into a farmer's wagon and compelled him to drive north at breakneck speed. As rapidly as was possible three rigs were dispatched in hot pursuit, and the chase became so warm that the fleeing men were forced to stop a single rig driven by two boys, whom they threw out and thus continued their flight. This rig was soon exchanged for another, a lady's vehicle being commandeered in this instance. This team failed them shortly, and a farmer, fixing fence along the highway, was next required to deliver his team. Stripping the harness off, the men mounted the animals bareback and started away at a gallop. The horse ridden by the negro, however, suddenly "bucked" and threw his rider off. He was unable to mount, and, seeing the pursuers approaching, dropped the reins and turned into a cornfield at one side of the road. His partner, observing this, also dropped off his horse and dashed into the cornfield.
The men were now practically cornered. From the east the posse from Marathon was just in sight, and would have intercepted them in another mile.
Conlin, with the Winchester rifle, sent big bullets screaming through the corn-shocks (sheaves), and as the field was not an extensive one the men were in considerable danger of being struck down unless they surrendered, and this they finally decided to do. The desperadoes, having thrown down their guns, were directed to approach with their hands in the air. Thereupon they were securely tied with straps taken from the harness.
At this moment Farmer Conlin discovered that he had fired his last cartridge. Brooks, the negro, then stated that had he known this a moment before he would never have been taken, as it was the fear of the big rifle alone that had caused them to surrender.
The two robbers were driven rapidly back to Albert City, at which place Marshal Snyder had arrived. He searched the men, and, not satisfied with a superficial examination revealing more guns and ammunition, ordered the men to strip. This they did with evident reluctance. Around the negro's neck was tied a razor and a bag containing a quantity of some liquid. As Snyder removed the latter the negro remarked:—
"Be careful of that; it's dangerous!"
Needless to say this liquid was nitroglycerine, and as there was enough of it to have blown off at least twelve safe-doors it is not difficult to understand the ferocious nerve of the man who carried it when exposed to bullets and the eccentricities of bucking horses.
The examination over, the negro hastily snatched up his under-garments and began donning them hurriedly. This aroused Snyder's suspicion further, and realizing the calibre of the men with whom he was dealing he searched the garments. Sewn in the seams of the shirt he found two fine saws nearly twelve inches in length, with which he cut an iron stove-poker as easily as a dull knife cuts cheese. This discovery was a serious one for the negro, and his spirits fell noticeably thereafter.
The men were now turned over to the sheriffand deputies who had arrived from Storm Lake, and by them taken to that city and lodged in the county jail.
"THEY WERE DIRECTED TO APPROACH WITH THEIR HANDS IN THE AIR."
"THEY WERE DIRECTED TO APPROACH WITH THEIR HANDS IN THE AIR."
"THEY WERE DIRECTED TO APPROACH WITH THEIR HANDS IN THE AIR."
John Sundblad died on Sunday afternoon from the effects of the wound received in the fight, and Marshal Lodine, after battling bravely for eight days, also succumbed to his injuries. The robber shot by Farmer Conlin lingered until Sunday noon, and before dying confessed that it was he and his companions who had robbed the Greenville Bank. He stated that his name was Dolan, although he was apparently of Italian descent.
The two surviving men, giving the names of Albert Phillips and Louis Brooks, were tried for murder, found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged.
Upon appeal to the Supreme Court errors were found, and a new trial granted the accused. They were found guilty of manslaughter at this trial and sentenced to life imprisonment at hard work. At the present time they are in the Iowa State Penitentiary at Anamosa.
The money stolen from the bank was subsequently recovered, being found concealed in the field where the desperate men made their last stand.