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#94 James White

~ jpkntz

AKA James White (181?-????), aka Pop White, Doc Long, James Allen, James Adams, James Dunn, William Wills, Walter Wells, etc. — Pickpocket, grifter, hotel thief

From Byrnes’s text:
DESCRIPTION. Seventy years old in 1886. Born in Delaware. Painter by trade. Very slim. Single. Height, 5 feet 8 inches. Weight, about 135 pounds. Gray hair, dark-blue eyes, sallow complexion, very wrinkled face. Looks like a well-to-do farmer.
RECORD. Old Pop White, or “Doc” Long, is the oldest criminal in his line in America. Over one-third of his life has been spent in State prisons and penitentiaries. He has turned his hand to almost everything, from stealing a pair of shoes to fifty thousand dollars. He was well known when younger as a clever bank sneak, hotel man and confidence worker.
He is an old man now, and most of his early companions are dead. He worked along the river fronts of New York and Boston for years, with George, alias “Kid” Affleck (56), and old “Hod” Bacon, and was arrested time and time again. One of their victims, whom they robbed in the Pennsylvania Railroad depot at Philadelphia in 1883 of $7,000, died of grief shortly after.
Old White was discharged from Trenton, N.J., State prison on December 19, 1885, after serving a term for grand larceny. He was arrested again in New York City the day after for stealing a pair of shoes from a store. He pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to five months in the penitentiary on Blackwell’s Island, in the Court of Special Sessions, on December 22, 1885.
Pop White’s picture is a good one, taken in July, 1875.

     Pop White’s real name and origins have been lost, along with most of his criminal history. He was adept at using a variety of aliases, and reticent in speaking with lawyers, detectives, and reporters. The July 1875 photo in Byrnes’s collection can not be linked to an arrest record; the earliest account found about White is an 1878 arrest in Philadelphia as Walter Wells, alias Doc Long. At that time he was already recognized as an old thief.


      As perhaps the oldest criminal listed in Byrnes’ Professional Criminals of America, it may be that Pop White could have told more stories of 19th Century crooks than anyone else; he might have been a fascinating character–but he was tight-lipped, and his crimes were small: stealing from hotel rooms, pickpocketing, small cons, etc. He was a classic grifter. The last misdeed of Pop White was in 1893, when he was arrested in Philadelphia and sent to the county prison for 90 days.

      By far the most notable exploit of Pop White occurred ten years earlier. In March, 1883, there was a robbery of $7000 in gold coins stored in the valise of a man named as Jesse Williams, described by newspapers as a 70-plus-year-old farmer from Orange County, New York, who was traveling south to purchase new farmland. Williams took a train from New York to Philadelphia, and stood by for his connecting train in the gentlemen’s waiting area of Penn Station. There he was approached by two other older gentlemen, who engaged him in conversation; these two were Pop White and his partner, George Affleck. White put down his baggage and steered Williams into the station’s saloon, assuring Williams that his baggage would be safe if he left it next to his. Upon coming out of the bar, Williams discovered that his satchel–containing the gold–was gone, and so was Affleck. Pop White soon vanished, too.

      White and Affleck were tracked to New York, where Byrnes’s detectives arrested Affleck and his wife. The satchel of Williams’ was found in Affleck’s hotel room, but only $1000 was left. Affleck claimed another $1000 had been deposited in banks. White was caught a few months later in Boston, and jailed there. The victim, Jesse Williams, said that the $7000 had been his life’s savings; after lawyer expenses he got back just $940.

      Six months later, eastern newspapers reported that Jesse Williams had died of grief. It seemed to be a clear example of the heavy human cost caused by habitual criminals, and Thomas Byrnes made it the center of his profile of Pop White.

      Little more can be said about the career of Pop White…but it turns out that there was much more to the story of his most notable victim, Jesse Williams.

      In March, 1883, right after the robbery and arrest of Affleck was reported, people in Orange County, New York asked each other if they knew of Jesse Williams, and why he might be carrying around $7000. It was a minor mystery for quite a few days until a Port Jervis (Orange County, NY) newspaper discovered that the man’s full name was Jesse Williams Jennings, who had indeed been born in Monroe, Orange County, but who had moved to a western state over fifty years earlier.

      Jesse W. Jennings had moved to what was then the frontier of America, the state of Indiana. Here is what A History of St Joseph County Indiana wrote about him in 1907:

      Jesse W. Jennings, deceased, was numbered among the earliest pioneers and leading agriculturists of St. Joseph county, whom to know was to esteem and honor. He was a native of the Empire state of New York, born in 1809, the son of James Jennings. In his native commonwealth Jesse W. Jennings learned his trade of shoemaking, and during his early manhood he went to Cleveland, Ohio, where he was married to one of the city’s native daughters, Mary Ann Pearse, her birth occurring in 1811. In 1830 Mr. Jennings came to St. Joseph county, Indiana, entering and taking up his abode on a farm in Clay township. He subsequently returned to Cleveland, but afterward again made his way to St. Joseph county and to Clay township, where he cleared a farm and continued its improvement and cultivation until failing health caused him to remove to South Bend. He later, however, bought the old county farm in Center township, but a short time afterward returned to his old place, there remaining until he became the owner of a farm in Portage township, which now consists of four hundred and fifty acres. At one time his estate consisted of over six hundred acres. His reputation was unassailable in all trade transactions, and by the exercise of industry, sound judgment, energy and perseverance he won a handsome competence, of which he was well deserving. During his later life Mr. Jennings traveled a great deal, and his death occurred in Cleveland, Ohio, but his remains were brought back and buried in the city cemetery of South Bend. He was the father of seven children, four sons and three daughters, but only three of the number grew to years of maturity. Mrs. Lucy Farneman, the fifth child in order of birth, now resides on the farm in Portage township which was formerly the David Ulery farm, and was also the Stover farm. The tract consists of one hundred and fifty acres of rich and fertile land. Mr. Jennings gave his political support to the Democratic party, and had fraternal relations with the Independent Order of Odd Fellows. He enjoyed the confidence of all with whom his dealings brought him in contact, and he was regarded as one of the representative citizens of old St. Joseph county.

      This complimentary biographical sketch, however, glosses over some of the more turbulent aspects of Jesse’s later years. By the late 1870s, Jesse and his wife Mary Ann Pearse were divorced. As part of the settlement, she obtained a large piece of land adjacent to his, which she leased out to tenant farmers. She then remarried to a second husband. Jesse, apparently, believed the terms of his settlement with Mary Ann entitled him to some of the income from the lease, and this gave rise to a dispute both with his former wife and the tenants. Meanwhile, Jesse also was getting tired of living alone with no cook.

      In the spring of 1879, Jesse asked his itinerant farmhand, a 19-year-old youth from Western Pennsylvania, to go back to Pennsylvania and pick out a young woman for him to marry. The young man went, solicited one of his neighbors, and she began a correspondence with Jesse. They traded letters, and Jesse sent his picture (he was 70; she was 20) and proposed to marry her–if she would come to Indiana and he liked her. She refused. Jesse turned elsewhere, and proposed to a female cook working in a local restaurant. She accepted, and Jesse gave her cash to get a wedding dress. But Jesse started to have second thoughts–thinking perhaps it was his money that she wanted–and broke off the engagement. In the fall of 1879, she sued Jesse for breach of promise.

      At about the same time, Jesse’s temper boiled over concerning his wife’s neighboring lease. On December 2, 1879, a barn on that property burnt down to the ground, along with two horses, five cows, and machinery, altogether valued at $2500, but only insured for $1000. It was immediately apparent that the fire was a case of arson. Jesse’s young farmhand was arrested and thrown in jail, where he gave evidence that Jesse himself had started the fire. Officials then arrested Jesse and threw him in jail, too. At that point events spun out of control, and were later written up and printed as far away as Brooklyn:

      Jesse W. Jennings was let out of jail on bond for the arson charge. In a civil action, he was forced to pay $1500 in damages. Nearly a year after these legal troubles, in February, 1881, four brick block buildings in South Bend, co-owned by Jesse, burnt down to the ground, resulting in a loss of $40,000. Jesse was re-arrested in May, 1881 for skipping out on his first bail bond a year earlier. He was able to once again buy his release on a $4000 bond, which people seemed to think he would also skip out on. They were right: in November, this second bond was forfeited. He had wasted $5500 to avoid facing charges.

      Where Jesse was between early 1881 and March, 1883 is not known, but it’s likely that he opted to stay away from Indiana, perhaps permanently, taking his nest egg of gold coins with him.

      And then he met the man known as “the Fagin of America,” the grifter, Pop White. And so, when the victimized Jesse explained events to police, he identified himself as “Jesse Williams” hailing from Orange County, New York–and not as Jesse W. Jennings of St Joseph County, Indiana. Now nearly out of cash, Jesse left Philadelphia with his $940 and went to stay with a nephew in Cleveland, Ohio. Inspector Byrnes and the eastern newspapers said the Jesse died of grief from being victimized. The Cleveland coroner, however, only found indications of heart disease.

      After Pop White’s last jailing in early 1893, he ended his criminal career and retired to a flat in New York City. The Illustrated Police News reported that he lived quietly, and on pleasant days was seen strolling on Sixth Avenue with his small Scotch terrier. He was said to visit his old haunts in the Union Square neighborhood, “…and likes to tell the story of his life to anyone who will listen to it.” Sadly, those stories are lost.

#164 Westley Allen

~ jpkntz

Charles Wesley Allen (1843-189?), aka Wess/Wes Allen, Wesley/Westley Allen, Charles Langley — Pickpocket, Thief

From Byrnes’s text:
DESCRIPTION. Forty-six years old in 1886. Born in New York. Widower. No trade. Slim build. Height, 5 feet 10 inches. Weight, 155 pounds. Right eye gray, left eye out, and replaced at times by a glass one. He sometimes wears green goggles, or only a green patch over the left eye. Dark hair, mixed with gray; sallow complexion. Generally wears a black mustache. Scar on left side of face. Has letters “W.A.,” an anchor, and dots of India ink on left fore-arm.
RECORD. “Wess.” Allen is probably the most notorious criminal in America, and is well known all over the United States. He is a saucy, treacherous fellow, and requires to be watched closely, as he will use a pistol if an opportunity presents itself. Wess.’s brothers are Theodore Allen, well known as “The. Allen,” a saloon keeper in New York, John Allen, a jeweler in New York, Martin Allen, a burglar, now in Sing Sing State prison, sentenced to ten years on November 1, 1883, for burglary in New York City (a house robbery, second offense), and Jesse Allen, a burglar (now dead).
      Wess. has been a thief for many years, but has not served much time in prison. He was arrested in New York City for an attempt to break into a silk house, and sentenced to five years in Sing Sing prison, on July 7, 1873, under the name of Charles W. Allen. Since his release, in 1877, he has been arrested in almost every city in America, but always manages to escape conviction.
      The following are a few of his arrests since 1880: He was arrested in New Haven, Conn., on January 29, 1880, in company of Wm. Brown, alias Burton, and James H. Johnson, at the Elliott House, whither they had followed Parnell and Dillon, the agitators. After a few days’ detention he was discharged. He was discharged from custody at Reading, Pa., on April 14, 1880, where he was detained on five indictments for picking pockets at a fair there in the fall of 1879.
      He was charged with picking the pocket of Thomas Rochford of his watch, on the night of October 29, 1880, near the City Hall in Brooklyn. He proved an alibi, and was acquitted by a jury in the Kings County Court of Sessions in Brooklyn, N.Y., on December 23, 1880.
      He was arrested in New Haven, Conn., on August 30, 1883, for an attempt to pick the pocket of John McDermott on a railroad train. As usual, he was discharged. He was discharged from arrest in the Jefferson Market Police Court, New York City, on July 30, 1884. The complainant, Edward P. Shields, a barkeeper for Theodore Allen, Wess.’s brother, charged him with “jabbing two of his fingers in his left eye.”
      He was arrested again in New York City, after a severe tussle, on September 13, 1885, while attending the funeral of his wife, Amelia, on a warrant issued by Justice Mulholland, of Syracuse, N.Y., charging him with grand larceny. He was delivered to a detective officer, who took him back to Syracuse, where he again escaped his just deserts.
      In November, 1885, two men of gentlemanly appearance called upon an Alleghany City, Pa., tailor named Rice, and were measured for some suits of clothing. “Send them C. O. D. to West Jefferson, Ohio, when they are finished,” they said, and bowed themselves out, after giving their names as Fisher and Grimes. The clothes, valued at $146, were shipped by Adams Express a week later, and the night they arrived in West Jefferson the express office was broken into and the clothing stolen. Fisher proved to be Wess. Allen. He had assumed his father-in-law’s name, Martin Fisher, whose house in New York City was searched by the police, and they found three of the missing suits there and also some silk. Fisher and his wife were taken into custody as receivers of stolen goods, and subsequently discharged. The former is over seventy years old, and the latter only a few years younger. Allen could not be found, as from the latest accounts he had gone to England to try his fortune there. His picture is an excellent one, the best in existence, taken in March, 1880.

      Wes Allen was one of five infamous brothers of the Allen family, noted for their thieving, street gang battles, political thuggery, and vice activities centered in Manhattan’s Eighth and Ninth Wards. His older brothers included Theodore “The” Allen (1834-1908); Jesse “Jess” Allen (1837-1875); Martin Van Buren “Mart” Allen (1841-191?); and John, a saloon operator. Among them, Wes has the distinction of being the only one included in Byrnes’ Professional Criminals of America. Brothers Jess and Mart might have qualified, but Jess died eleven years before Byrnes published his book. Why Mart did not make the cut is a mystery–perhaps he only lacked a photograph–which is unfortunate, since Mart was perhaps the most interesting of the clan.
      For sixty years, members of the Allen family were a constant source of melodrama, bloody violence, infidelity and depravity that entertained the newspaper-reading public and saloon gossipers of Manhattan and Brooklyn. “The” Allen was also a major figure in New York City politics, sporting life and nightlife. The family’s story started conventionally enough, with the marriage of Jesse Allen Sr. and Hannah Louise Cole just before 1830. Jesse Sr. was a cartman by trade. Hannah bore ten children by 1848, seven of who survived childhood.
      In 1848, when the brothers ranged from 5 to 17 (with Wes being the youngest), the family first came to public attention–but not because of any mischief by the sons, who had no arrest records to that point. From the October 26, 1848 edition of the New York Herald:

      Seduction by a Methodist Class Leader
      Much to be regretted, we are called upon too often to expose the wolves in sheep’s clothing, who prowl about in this community, seeking whom they may devour, under the garb of religion, consummating their hellish purposes in seduction and adultery; breaking up the peace and quiet of respectable families, apparently with impunity—all of which is done under the cloak of administering spiritual comfort. One of these wolves we are about to describe; and that the reader may understand the whole case, we shall begin at the beginning and finish off with the last acts by which the guilty parties were discovered and taken to the police station, through the ingenious management of Justice Mountfort, one of our indefatigable magistrates.
      It will be recollected that many months ago, the Independent Methodist Church, situated in 18th street, near the North River, was under the direction of Brother Witney, a Methodist minister, in which meeting house a class was formed of the pious souls of that vicinity; and amongst this congregation was Brother Peter W. Longley, a produce dealer, of No. 78 Courtlandt street. Now, brother Longley was a man of the world, and, although a class-leader, was still susceptible of the many points that constitute the attractions of a pretty woman; such, however, is human nature, and brother Longley, on this point, was no worse than many others who are yet to be discovered.
      In the class of brother Longley was a neat, good-looking little woman, of about 34 years of age, by the name of Hannah Allen, the wife of Jesse Allen, a respectable cartman, residing in West 18th street, by whom she has a family of seven children. Brother Longley was very attentive to all his little flock, in administering to them the spiritual comforts; but more particularly to Mrs. Allen, whom he used to visit during the day, at her residence, sometimes once, sometimes twice, and some days three times, according as the spirit moved him. On these meeting the neighbors would hear them pray and sing together with all the devotion imaginable, until some of the good neighbors began to think that brother Longley was a little too devoted in his attentions.
      This was secretly whispered around by the different ladies in the vicinity, and finally came to the ears of Mr. Allen, who, upon several occasions of coming home in the course of a day, found brother Longley in earnest prayer with his better half. Brother Allen then told brother Longley that he thought his visits were rather too frequent—and that it would be more pleasing to him if he would stay away. This rather dampened the ardor of brother Longley; and the consequence was that out-door visits were resorted to, as they were afterwards frequently seen seated together in earnest conversation in Union square.
      The intercourse was carried on as usual between them in secret meetings, until about two weeks since, when brother Longley concocted a plan whereby they could enjoy each other, without creating so much suspicion. A few months ago, Longley’s wife was the owner in her own right of a new three-story house situated in 26th street, corner of 2d avenue; this, Longley persuaded her to make over to him, which she did, accordingly. Thus far so good, for brother Longley; but not so for Mrs. Longley as two weeks ago she was informed by her husband that her mother, who resides at New Haven, was very sick, and wanted to see her, and was advised by him to go up immediately; and was told at the same time that she might stay two weeks, or as long as she pleased.
Mrs. L started; but on arriving at New Haven, she discovered the story was false—that her mother was not sick. Now that his wife was absent, brother Longley devised a plan whereby to enjoy the worldly comforts of sister Allen; the father of Mrs. Allen was applied to, and the husband (Mr. Allen) represented to be a brute, and that a divorce must be obtained; and while that was pending, brother Longley kindly offered two rooms in his house for the accommodation of sister Allen. This was readily accepted by Mrs. Allen, and sanctioned by the father, who knew Longley to be a member of the church, and a class leader, thus feeling satisfied that his daughter was safe in the hands of such a good and pious man. Therefore, in the absence of Mr. Allen, Mrs. Allen removed some of her best furniture from her husband’s house to the house of Longley, where she was to occupy a room, taking with her likewise one of her children.
      On Mr. Allen coming home from his daily labor, he learned the news that his wife had left, nor could he ascertain her whereabouts. This passed on for near two weeks, when Mrs. Longley returned, a few days earlier than was expected; she thought some trouble would occur on her return, from the fact of her being deceived by her husband in her New Haven trip. Therefore, she went to work with some caution; and as the lower part of Longley’s house is hired out to another family, upon inquiry, some important facts were elicited. Fearful that some tragical scene might occur if she went to the house alone, and to eradicate any such difficulty, she applied to Justice Mountfort, who, upon consultation, sent for Mr. Allen; and a plan was soon devised by the Justice, in order to keep the peace and see that no violence was used towards the person of either party.
      This arranged, a descent was made on the house by Mrs. Longley and Mr. Allen, accompanied by a friend, Mr. Isaac F. Sharp, guarded in the rear by Captain Johnson and Assistant Captain Flandreau, of the Eighteenth ward police. The time was set at eleven o’clock, on Tuesday night last. The house was entered very carefully, so as to not give any alarm. Mr. Allen and Mrs. Longley, the two aggrieved parties, ascended gently upstairs to the room door of brother Longley, Mrs. L. putting her ear to the keyhole, and plainly heard the devoted couple praying together.
      The reader can readily imagine the feelings of the discomforted couple outside the door, at hearing the loving couple within the room. Allen was for going right in, and so was Mrs. L; but recollecting the instructions of the magistrate, which was to listen attentively at the door, until quiet was restored within, then burst in the door, and each one go in for their own; this instruction was most faithfully kept, for no sooner was the light extinguished in the room, than in went the door, and, sure, such a scene was never seen before.
      Mrs. Longley seized her husband’s inexpressibles, and grabbed his pocket book. He jumped out of bed sans culottes, seized his wife around her waist, and such a scene then took place, such a tugging, pulling, and hauling for the breeches, as the reader can more easily imagine than we can possibly describe; she crying out help, murder, murder, &c, making a “slice” of tragical comedy rarely witnessed. Mrs. Allen doubled herself up in bed under the sheets, resembling a mole hill in a meadow. The alarm of murder now brought in the aid of the police, to keep the peace between the enraged parties; which resulted in all being taken to the station house.
      In the morning, Justice Mountfort investigated the case but finding no criminal law touching the charge of adultery, that was abandoned and Mr. Longley was held to bail in the sum of $500, to keep the peace towards his wife, as it appears from her affidavit that he has been in the habit of abusing her, as on one occasion, before she left for New Haven, because she did not clean his boots just to please him he slapped her face, and otherwise misused her. Mr. Allen took his wife home again, and is willing to forget and forgive, if she will only conduct herself better in future. It appears they have been married near twenty years, and have had ten children, seven of which are now living.

      The hoped-for (at least by the Herald) reconciliation between Jesse Allen and Hannah did not occur. Less than two years later, Hannah could be found cohabiting with Peter Longley along with her youngest children, Martin (9), Wes (8), and Hannah (4). In 1851, Hannah sued Jesse for support; by 1855 she had married the now-divorced Longley and had two daughters by him. Martin (14), Wes (13) and Hannah (9) still lived with her and Peter. Similarly, after their divorce, Jesse Allen remarried and fathered four more children with his second wife, Helen Staley.

      By 1860, Hannah and Peter had migrated to Brooklyn. In that year’s census, Peter’s property was valued at $20,000–comparatively wealthy for that time. Martin, now 20, still lived with his mother, but Wes apparently opted to stay behind in Manhattan, where his grandparent’s had sheltered Theodore and Jesse after the breakup of the Allen marriage.
      In that year, 1860, Wes–at age 18, was already described as a well-known pickpocket. Wes’s worse tendencies were interrupted by the Civil War, for which he volunteered in June, 1861. [His older brother “The”, Theodore Allen, also served, but ended the war in a military prison for collecting bounties on ghost recruits]. Wes Allen served ably in New York’s 62nd Infantry, Company G, and was promoted to Corporal in May 1864. He was wounded in October, 1864 during the pivotal Battle of Cedar Creek in Virginia, and lost his left eye. Afterwards he always wore an eye patch or dark green spectacles–a distinctive feature that cramped his occupation as a pickpocket [imitator pickpockets started wearing eye patches and dark glasses]. He was formally mustered out in October, 1865–but had already been roaming his home streets since May 1865 while convalescing at David’s Island military hospital in New Rochelle.
      In May, 1865, Wes was picked up for snatching a man’s watch, but a city alderman appeared just in time to convince the victim not to press charges in return for $100, which the man assented to, but not before a judge learned of the story. Allen was brought up on charges and sentenced to five years in State Prison. He was pardoned by Governor Fenton after just five months, thanks to a bargain struck by his brother “The.” The deal was this: if “The” could carry the 7th and 8th districts of the Eighth Ward for M. O. Roberts as Judge, the Governor would be convinced to issue the pardon. “The” kept his end of the bargain, and his little brother was freed.
      In August, 1868, Wes Allen and a large number of youths loitered outside “The’s” saloon, the St. Bernard House, at the corner of Mercer and Prince streets. They were told to disperse by a patrolman, Officer Crittenden, but instead chose to shower the man with abuse. Crittenden grabbed Wes Allen and signalled four other officers to join him. A nasty fight between the five officers and as many as thirty or forty ruffians broke out, capped by the appearance of Wes’s older brother Jess, who waded in to the fracas waving revolvers. Shots rang out, and the street toughs retreated inside “The’s” saloon, from which they opened fire. About thirty shots were traded, but with no serious injuries. Wes was released the next morning.
      In November 1869, Wes was convicted of burglary in Brooklyn, where his family had no political influence, and sent to Auburn Prison. However, it was election time, and his brother “The” was on the ballot in the Eighth ward:

      Byrnes ends his entry saying that Wes fled to England in 1885. In Byrne’s 1895 edition, he states that Wes died there in prison in June, 1890. Articles appeared in January, 1891, confirming that he was in England, but was on the verge of death. A report from the New York Sun in July, 1891, said that Wes was present in his brother John’s house in Manhattan when “The” was taken there after a near-fatal stabbing. So was Byrnes wrong about Wes’s death? Regardless, Wes was heard from no more.

#176 Mark Shinburn

~ jpkntz

Maximilian Schoenbein (1842-1916), aka Max Shinburn, Mark Shinborn, Henry E. Moebus, etc. — Sneak thief, bank robber

Link to Byrnes’s text on Mark Shinburn

Maximilian Schoenbein, the preeminent bank robber of the 1860s, was born in 1842 to parents Johann Schoenbein and Agnes Keiss of Württemberg, Germany. He arrived in the United States sometime in the mid-1850s, but the date and place of entry is unknown. In later life Schoenbein never mentioned his parents or upbringing. As a young man he supported himself by “sneak thieving” from stores and houses. He posed as a “sporting” man, a devotee of gambling and horse racing.

Schoenbein’s first bank job was the Walpole, N.H. Bank robbery of 1864, assisted by James Cummings. By his own account, Schoenbein attempted eleven bank robberies between 1864 and 1870, and was successful in nine of them. In June, 1870, he married Adelaide Tisserman and sailed for Europe a wealthy man, not to return until 1890.

In 1913, three years before his death, Schoenbein wrote a series of eleven articles for the Sunday Boston Herald, detailing several of his most famous exploits, as well as several capers involving his fellow master thieves, Adam Worth and George Miles White. These articles appeared just weeks after similar articles about old-time crooks penned by Sophie Lyons. However, unlike Lyon’s columns, Schoenbein’s writings were never syndicated to other newspapers, and never collected and republished in book form…
…until now. As a result of the Professional Criminals of America–REVISED project, Schoenbein’s heist stories have been transcribed and published by Wickham House under the title King of Burglars: The Heist Stories of Max Shinburn. Each of the eleven articles is a treat for any fan of stories about old-time crooks.

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      In one of his stories, Shinburn alludes briefly to the fact that after his return to the United States in the early 1890s, he spent two years trying to develop an invention. He later (in 1910) secured a patent for this after his release from the New Hampshire State Prison in 1908. The patent was US979325A, for a chambered pneumatic tire for automobiles:

      Shinburn’s attempt to develop this in the early 1890s depleted his funds, resulting in a return to robbery–and re-imprisonment in New York and New Hampshire from 1895 to 1908.

#174 William Wright

~ jpkntz

William Wright (1831-19??), aka Roaring Bill, Charles W. Thompson, Watson — Thief

From Byrnes’s text:

DESCRIPTION. Fifty-three years old in 1886. Born in United States. Single. No trade. Slim build. Height, 5 feet 4 inches. Weight, 130 pounds. Brown hair, turning gray; gray eyes, sallow complexion. Generally wears a mustache, which is quite gray. Scars on right eyebrow, under lower lip, and on chin.

RECORD. “Roaring Bill” is an old New York thief. He has spent the best portion of his life in State prisons and penitentiaries, and is well known in all the principal cities in America. He is a general thief, can turn his hand to almost anything, and is considered a very clever man. He is credited with having served four years for an express-train robbery in Colorado; also, with robbing an Adams Express Co. money-car, out West, of $15,000.

Bill was arrested in Providence, R.I., and sentenced to four years in the Rhode Island State prison on March 21, 1881, for the larceny of a valise containing a sealskin sack and several other things from a railroad train between New York and Providence. His sentence expired on October 25, 1884.

He was arrested again in New York City on August 10, 1885, and committed to Blackwell’s Island for three months, in default of $500 bail, as a suspicious person, by Justice Murray. Wright’s picture is a good one, taken in August, 1885.

      Just before Chief Inspector Byrnes retired from the police force in 1894, a writer for a Buffalo newspaper asked him who were the most capable thieves not then in jail. Byrnes listed eight men: Rufus Minor, Joe Elliott, John Love, Ned Lyons, Gus Kindt, Mike Kurtz, Chauncy Johnson…and William Wright. None of these are surprising, except for Wright. Byrnes added, “Bill was one of the funniest, one of the shrewdest, and one of the most deceitful crooks I ever saw. It’s well-nigh impossible to fasten a crime on him.”

      Wright received the nickname “Roaring Bill” from his loud, boisterous behavior when drunk.

      Wright’s documented criminal history began–as Byrnes wrote–in 1881. However, Wright was already fifty years old by that time. Byrnes hints at some interesting details in Wright’s background, none of which can be confirmed. Still, these fragments are fascinating: Wright had been a cowboy in Texas; he had been in the regular army (but when and where is unknown); and he robbed a train in Colorado and spent four years in State prison in that state. In New York in the 1870s, he had been a member of Jimmy Hope’s gang of bank thieves.

      By comparison, Wright’s crimes from 1881 and forward seem petty. He was caught that year taking a sealskin coat from a passenger on the Fall River line train on its way from Boston to Newport, Rhode Island. He was arrested in New York, but was tried in Rhode Island and sentenced to four years in the State Prison.

      While jailed in Providence, one of Bill’s fellow prisoners did not find him so amusing. That prisoner’s name was James Dunbar, alias Dunmunday, alias Shea. Dunbar was said to have been a former member of the Jesse James gang (a claim yet to be proved). One day in the prison workshop, Dunbar grabbed a hefty hammer and brought it swiftly down on Wright’s head. Bill was saved only by his thick skull. Dunbar was thrown into solitary confinement, and through his own vile temper remained there until he died. Some say he attacked Bill for no reason other than to get transferred to an asylum from which he could escape; others say that he wanted to silence Bill, since Bill was the only one who recognized him as a member of the James gang.

      The more likely scenario is that Bill said or did something to the man to provoke the attack. A different prisoner, who testified a few years later to a committee investigating conditions at the State Prison, claimed that Bill was the worst man he had ever met; and said that Bill–who also worked as a prison hospital orderly–gave the patients indigestible food contrary to doctors’ orders.

      After his release, Bill could be found living at the Rochester House hotel in New York and spending summer days at Coney Island, working the crowds there as a pickpocket, and stealing items from the bathhouses where people changed out of their street clothes. One night in March, 1886, Bill was standing at the bar at the Rochester House when the stakes backer of the boxer George Le Blanche rolled in, despondent that his man had just lost a bout to Jack Dempsey. The backer mistook Bill Wright for a man named Tuthill, the brother of Dempsey’s backer, and thrust $2000 into Wright’s hands to settle accounts to the winner. Bill looked at the money and hesitated. However, he considered Dempsey a friend, and so he gave the money back and directed the man to visit the bar of the Hoffman House, where he knew Dempsey was staying.

      A year later, in February 1887, Wright was in Albany plying his trade, and believed he might find good pickings in the New York State Senate chamber. During a recess in proceedings, he got onto the floor of the chamber and walked away with Senator Jacob Worth’s overcoat. He was caught and charged with grand larceny; Senator Worth insured that Wright was given the maximum sentence: nine years and eleven months at Clinton Prison, Dannemora.

      By 1898, Bill was back in New York, once again working the crowds at Coney Island. However, he was soon arrested again, tried and sentenced to ten years at Sing Sing. Bill was 67 years old when his last term started. He would roar no more.

#178 Joseph Colon

~ jpkntz

Joseph Colon (abt. 1847-19??), aka Joseph Rogers, Edward Burns, Joseph Johnson, James Boyd, Henry Reid, Henry R. Lee, etc. — Thief

From Byrnes’s text:

DESCRIPTION. Thirty-nine years old in 1886. Born in New York. Single. No trade. Slim build. Height, 5 feet 8 inches. Weight, 138 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes, nose flat and turns up at the end, sandy complexion; sandy mustache or beard, when grown. Has scar on side of head; mole on the left cheek. A woman’s head on right fore-arm, and a star on the right hand in India ink.

RECORD. Joe Colon is a very clever sneak thief and house man. He may be found around boat regattas, fairs, etc., and sometimes works with a woman. Of late he has been doing considerable house work. He travels all over and has been quite successful, as he drops into a town or city, does his work, and takes the next train out of it.

Colon first made the acquaintance of the New York police on October 23, 1877, when he was arrested at the Grand Central Railroad depot, on the arrival of a Boston train, for having in his possession a vest, watch and chain belonging to Elliot Sanford, a broker, in New York, which he had stolen from a sleeping-car. Mr. Sanford, after getting his property back, refused to go to court, and Colon was discharged, after his picture was taken for the Rogues’ Gallery.

Colon was arrested at Troy, N.Y., on August 20, 1884, under the name of Joseph Rogers, for the larceny of a gold watch and chain, the property of George L. French, from a locker in the Laureate Club boat-house during a regatta. He was convicted under Section 508 of the New York Penal Code, and sentenced to one year in the Albany, N.Y., penitentiary, and fined $500, on Saturday, August 30, 1884. He was, however, discharged before his time expired.

He was arrested again in Boston, Mass., on November 11, 1885. Tools for doing house work, consisting of a pallet-knife for opening windows, a screwdriver, soft black hat, rubber shoes, and a one-inch wood-chisel for opening drawers, etc., were found in a satchel he was carrying. His picture was taken, and he was discharged, as no complaint could be obtained against him. Colon’s picture is a good one, taken on November 11, 1885.

      Colon was a very business-like thief: he left towns quickly, and when captured used a variety of common-place aliases. He often worked alone, avoiding the mistakes and disloyalty of others. He was said not to have any of the bad habits that plagued other thieves, i.e. drinking, gambling. Nothing else about his personal life or origins has been found.

      However, more crimes can be attributed to Colon:

  • In December 1890, Colon was caught in Buffalo, New York, stealing a woman’s pocketbook containing $11.00. He was sent to the Erie County Penitentiary for 30 days.
  • In February, 1891, he was caught attempting to steal five pocketbooks from a department store in Chicago.
  • In July 1891, Colon was spotted loitering around the boathouses on Lake Michigan in Milwaukee–one of his favorite targets. He was sentenced to 90 days in the house of correction.
  • Byrnes indicates that Colon was arrested and later jailed on November 18, 1892, for assaulting his wife. A different source says that he was arrested that day as a thief under the name Joseph Johnson. However, newspapers and prison registers can’t confirm either of these. He was however, spotted in a store in Boston on November 7 by detectives, brought him in as a suspicious character, and told him to leave town.
  • Arrested in Cambridge, Massachusetts on June 11, 1895 for larceny from a boathouse. Sentence to the house of correction for two years.
  • Arrested in Philadelphia on December 16, 1898 as Henry Reid for attempted shoplifting. Sentenced to Philadelphia County prison for 18 months.
  • Arrested on October 22, 1900 in Northampton, Massachusetts for a larceny attempt at the Amherst College gymnasium. Sentenced to house of correction for 18 months.

#163 Benjamin B. Bagley

~ jpkntz

Benton Bushnell Bagley (1847-1921), aka Benjamin B. Bagley — Hotel, Church thief

From Byrnes’s text:

DESCRIPTION. Thirty-five years old in 1886. Born in the United States. Married. No trade. Medium build. Height, 5 feet 9 inches. Weight, 153 pounds. Brown hair, gray eyes, dark complexion. Has scar on chin. Has a peculiar expression in one eye; it is hardly a cast.

RECORD. Bagley is a very clever sneak thief. He works houses, churches, receptions and weddings, and is pretty well known in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and in the Eastern States generally. He starts out occasionally and travels South and West, and is liable to turn up anywhere.

He was arrested in New York City, and sentenced to five years in Sing Sing prison, on February 21, 1872, under the name of Benton B. Bagley, for grand larceny. He has done service since.

He was arrested again in New York City on January 22, 1883, in company of Frank Shortell (168), and John T. Sullivan, two other expert sneaks, for the larceny of a sealskin dolman, valued at $350, from the Church of the Incarnation, Thirty-fifth Street and Madison Avenue, during a wedding, on December 27, 1882. Bagley and Sullivan were discharged on January 30, 1883, and Shortell was sent to the Elmira reformatory, by Judge Cowing, on February 5, 1883. Bagley’s picture is a good one, taken in January, 1883.

      Benton B. Bagley was either an very infrequent thief or a very good one, for he was only jailed once (unless he was taken under undetected aliases). He had a couple of misadventures before embarking on thieving. In September 1864, at age 17, he enlisted in the 91st New York Volunteer Infantry. The unit was then stationed guarding Baltimore, and did not see action in the last months of that year. Bagley deserted by December.

      By the end of the war, Benton was back living in Brooklyn and working as a clerk in a New York lawyer’s office. One hot July afternoon, he hid himself under a grating on Fulton Street in order to stare up underneath the hoop skirts of women walking above. Upon being caught and hauled into court, he plead that the hot weather had led to the intense feelings that caused his indiscretion. The judge gave him a fatherly lecture and let him go.

      On Christmas day, 1871, Bagley used a false key to enter a room at the Sturtevant House hotel and steal a woman’s cloak. He was caught, not only with the cloak, but with a set of false keys. He was found guilty, but the judge suspended his sentence after hearing from character witnesses. A month later he was caught in a similar act at the Westminster Hotel. This time, he was sentenced to five years in Sing Sing.

      Bagley was arrested again in 1883, as Byrnes relates, in the company of two well-known sneak thieves. However, there was no solid evidence against him, and he was released–marking the end of his known criminal career.

      In Byrnes’ 1895 edition, the old detective says that Bagley “has shown the inclination to reform” and was currently in the bakery business with a relative.

      By 1910, Bagley, now 63 years old, was working for a security company as a watchman. He was assigned to the night shift at the mansion of the late Charles L. Tiffany, founder of the jewelry empire. The house was then owned by his daughter Louise Harriet Tiffany. She wanted the house kept as her father left it, but couldn’t bear to reside there herself, so had the property patrolled around the clock by shifts of watchmen. In March, 1910, it was discovered that over $6000 in jewelry and clothing had been taken from the house.

      The watchmen who had been assigned to the mansion were questioned, and all denied knowledge. Detectives then followed them for several weeks. Without doubt, Bagley’s history as a former Sing Sing convict was revealed. However, as detectives trailed the daytime-shift watchman, William Hoffman, they observed him visiting several pawn shops. Searching Hoffman’s residence, police found the loot stolen from the Tiffanys. Bagley was cleared of the crime, but likely lost his job anyway.

      By 1914, poverty forced Bagley to the New York City for the Aged and Infirm. His wife and daughter went to live with relatives; three other children were grown and living on their own. He was still an inmate in 1920, and died there in 1921 at age 74.

      No effort was required to trace Bagley’s family history. His descendants had already placed him in their family tree records found on the web.

#154 James Price / #158 Thomas Price

~ jpkntz

James C. Price (1838-????), aka Jimmy Price, James A. Hoyt — Pickpocket, burglar; Thomas Price (1842-1889), aka Deafy Price, Thomas McCormick — Pickpocket

From Byrnes’s text:
#154 James Price
DESCRIPTION. Forty-five years old in 1886. Born in New York. Married. No trade. Stout build. Height, 5 feet 7 inches. Weight, 170 pounds. Brown hair, dark eyes, thick nose, dark complexion.
RECORD. Jimmy Price is an old New York pickpocket. He has been a “Moll Buzzer” (one who picks a woman’s pocket) ever since he was a boy, and confines himself generally to that particular branch of the business. This big, lazy thief has sent many a poor woman home minus her few hard-earned dollars, after her visit to a crowded market, fair, or railroad car. He is a brother of Tommy Price, alias ” Deafy ” Price, the pickpocket (158), and Johnny Price, the bank sneak. He is well known in all the principal cities in the United States and Canada. He has served terms in Sing Sing prison and on Blackwell’s Island.
He was arrested in New York City, and sentenced to one year in Sing Sing prison, on October 20, 1876, under the name of William A. Hoyt, for grand larceny from the person. Since then he has done service for several States, and is now at large. Price’s picture is not so good as it might have been, on account of some difficulty he had with the officer, at the time of his arrest, in 1877.
#158 Thomas Price
DESCRIPTION. About forty-four years old in 1886. Born in New York. Single. No trade. Medium build. Height, 5 feet 7 inches. Weight, about 150 pounds. Brown hair, dark eyes, sallow complexion, high forehead, an Irish expression, and is very deaf.
RECORD. “Deafy Price” ought to be well known all over America, as he has been a thief for at least twenty-five years. He is one of the old Bowery gang of pickpockets, and an associate of Old Jim Casey, “Jimmy the Kid” (142), “Big Dick” Morris (141), “Pretty Jimmy” (143), “Jersey Jimmy” (145), “Combo” (148), “Nibbs” (137), “Funeral” Wells (150), and, in fact, all the old timers. He is a brother of Jimmy Price, the “Moll Buzzer” (154), and Johnny Price, the bank sneak. He is a saucy, impudent thief, and wants to be taken in hand at once.
He was arrested in New York City and sent to the work-house on Blackwell’s Island, N.Y., on July 3, 1866. He was arrested again in New York City, in company of another man who has since reformed, for an attempt to pick pockets, and sentenced to four months in the penitentiary, on October 17, 1866, by Judge Dodge. He was arrested in New York City again on July 21, 1875, charged with violently assaulting Samuel F. Clauser, of No. 38 East Fourth Street, New York, while that gentleman was walking down Broadway. He was placed on trial on July 27, 1875, in the Court of Special Sessions, in the Tombs prison building, on a charge of assault with intent to steal, as a pickpocket. The evidence of the complainant was not strong enough to convict him of the intent to steal, and he was discharged.
He was arrested again on September 8, 1876, in company of George Williams, alias “Western George” (now dead), at the Reading Railroad depot, near the Centennial Exhibition Grounds, in Philadelphia, Pa. They were taken inside the grounds, and sentenced to ninety days in the penitentiary on September 9, 1876, under a special law passed to protect visitors to the Exposition from professional thieves. He was arrested again in New York City on December 25, 1879, charged with attempting to rob one Marco Sala, an Italian gentleman, while riding on a horse-car. He was committed for trial by the police magistrate, and afterwards discharged by Judge Cowing, in the Court of General Sessions, on January 30, 1880. Price’s picture is a good one, although taken fifteen years ago, in New York City.

      While it’s no surprise that Chief Byrnes included the profiles of lifelong New York pickpockets Jimmy and Tommy Price in Professional Criminals of America, it is a minor mystery that he did not profile brother Johnny Price, a first-class bank sneak thief on par with his frequent partners Rufe Minor, George Carson, Frank Buck, Peppermint Joe Buford, Billy Coleman, etc. Though Byrnes does mention Johnny Price in the profiles of some of the above, he is not merited his own short biography. The reason for this appears to be Byrnes devotion to his format, which required a rogue’s gallery photograph for each criminal. Apparently, Johnny was never photographed (or he was and it was mislaid.)

      The Prices came from a large Irish family, with no father present by the time the boys were teens. The oldest brother, William, born in 1838, was never a criminal; and in fact appears to have been employed as a broker at New York’s Custom House his entire career. There were two daughters, one of whom married a New York police sergeant. However, the three younger brothers fell into crime at an early age, likely through association with the Nineteenth Street gang, led by Stephen Boyle. Jimmy and Tommy were hard of hearing–Tommy profoundly so–but both were called “Deafy” at one point or another. The nickname stuck with Tommy.

      As pickpockets, Jimmy and Tommy were highly-skilled. Byrnes indicates that the Prices were known all over the country, but there are few mentions of them in other cities, aside from Philadelphia’s Centennial Exhibition in 1876, which attracted pickpockets everywhere. Jimmy was released from Sing Sing in 1895, when he was about 57 years old. He fate from that point is unknown.

      Tommy “Deafy” Price, when he wasn’t picking pockets, tended bar and ran a seedy saloon in SoHo. Years later, a police captain recalled Deafy:

      From the autobiographical notes of Captain Charles Albertson regarding the time he served in the New York City Police Department 8th Precinct:
Informant Deafy Price
      When I was first appointed there was a dance hall of questionable reputation on the south side of Prince Street between Greene and Mercer Streets, kept by a peculiar and notorious crook known as “Deafy Price” who was the most versatile all round thief I ever knew. I came to know him quite well as his place required considerable attention. The hall was soon closed and for several years I used to see Deafy standing in front of Alderman Joe Welling’s liquor store on the corner of Houston and Sullivan Streets as I passed there from time to time. One afternoon about 1885 I went over the Chamber Street ferry to see an uncle and aunt off on the Erie on their way home. As I was getting on a Belt Line car on my way home I felt my watch being lifted from the fob pocket of my trousers. I grabbed the hand attached to the watch and discovered that it belonged to Deafy. He started to apologize, when I said, “Deafy you get off and work the next car, I will work this.” He got off.
       Several months after the above mentioned event I met Deafy on Broadway when he thanked me for overlooking his former indiscretion and said he would be pleased to help me solve any criminal mystery that I had to work out from time to time and directed me where to write so that he would not be known as my “stool.” He was of great service to me in many important cases, obtaining information I would not have been able to obtain otherwise. He was said to be so expert as a pickpocket that he taught novices or new beginners his art.
      I met Deafy after not having seen him for some years and when I asked him who he was doing now he said,, in a joking way that he was working a large department store that had recently opened. This store had a very opinionated detective whom I wished to try out. When I said to Deafy that I had my doubts of his being able to shop lift anything from there he said, “You get a sample of goods from there, send me that sample and I will send to you at your station the piece of goods it is curt from.” I went to the store, selected a sample of very small black and white checked silk which was very fashionable at the time and sent this to Deafy. About a week later the piece of silk was left at my station. I sent for my friend the detective and when he called said to him “your store is being worked by shoplifters.” He insisted that it was impossible. I then told him what had occurred, he insisted that my informant must have purchased the goods. We cut a sample from the piece and went to the store. I went to the silk counter at which time he came from the opposite direction. I gave the saleslady my sample, requesting to know if she could match it. She said, “Yes”, and commenced searching and after some time remarked, “I am quite sure it has not been sold” which was a fact. I believe the effect of this escapade was beneficial as it caused the detective to get busy and Deafy some time after informed me that he had been compelled to seek new fields for his efforts.
      In 1889, Deafy was living with his sister on E. 136th Street, not far from the East River. His sister said that he was despondent and wandered off one day in late March. His body was found in the river a month and a half later, just a block away.

#199 Samuel Perris

~ jpkntz

Samuel Lafayette Parris (1840-????), aka Sam Perris, Sam Gorman, Samuel Ferris, Worcester Sam — Bank robber

From Byrnes’s Text:

DESCRIPTION. Forty-six years old in 1886. Born in Canada. A French Canadian. Single. No trade. Height, 5 feet 8 inches. Weight, about 180 pounds. Looks something like a Swede or German. Brown hair, blue eyes, light complexion. Face rather short. Has a prominent dimple in his chin. Is thick set and very muscular. Has a quick, careless gait. Speaks English without French accent ; also, French fluently. He changes the style of his beard continually, and is “smooth-faced” a part of the time. Generally wears some beard on account of his pictures having been taken with smooth face. He drinks freely and spends money rapidly. He has a scar from a pistol-shot on his right eyebrow.

RECORD. “Worcester” Sam is one of the most notorious criminals in America. He has figured in the annals of crime in the Eastern and New England States for years. He is an associate of Old Jimmie Hope (20), Mike Kerrigan, alias Johnny Dobbs (64), and all the most expert men in the country. He has no doubt participated in every bank robbery of any magnitude that has taken place in the United States for the past twenty years. He is a man of undoubted nerve, and has a first-class reputation among the fraternity. His specialty is banks and railroad office safes.

Sam is wanted now by the Worcester (Mass.) police; also, for the robbery and alleged murder of Cashier Barron, of the Dexter Bank of Maine. He was in custody at Worcester, Mass., but escaped from jail there on April 5, 1872. He has never been recaptured, although there is a standing reward of $3,000 offered for him by the county commissioners. (See records of George Wilkes and No. 50.)

Perris’s picture is the best in existence. It was copied from one taken with a companion, and resembles him very much.

      Reuben and Adaline Parris were part of the wave of migration from French Canada to the United States that started in the 1830s and 1840s, fleeing a poor economy. Their first stop in the United States was Randolph, Vermont, where son Samuel Lafayette Parris was born in 1840. Adaline and her children were noted as “mulatto” in census records. In the 1850s, the family moved first to Worcester, Massachusetts; then to Watervliet, New York; and later to back Worcester, Massachusetts, where there was a large French-Canadian population that had sought out textile factory jobs. Reuben Parris (whose surname was often spelled Perris, Paris, or Pareice) was a fish and fruit dealer by trade. Reuben Parris did little to discourage his son from a life of crime, and in at least one instance abetted one of Sam’s bank robberies.

      When and where Sam Parris started his life of thieving is not known, but anecdotes about his involvement in specific robberies surfaced in 1871 which dated his activities back to at least 1869, about the time he was said to have left Worcester. He traveled under the alias “Sam Gorman,” and among his early mentors were George Miles White (alias George Bliss, George Miles) and Max Shinburn. In 1869, Parris was involved in a heavy robbery in Boston, and by December of that year was enjoying the spoils in New Orleans. There he was arrested as Sam Gorman for the theft of $20,000 from the banking form of Pike, Brother, & Co. He was released on bail after donating $400 to the recorder (judge) that handled his case.

      Shortly afterwards, Parris was back in northern New England, committing robberies with new partners Daniel Dockerty and Charles Gleason. In July 1870 they hit the safe of E. B. True in Newport, Vermont; followed several weeks later by a robbery in Barton, Vermont. Gleason was captured by a detective from New Hampshire in White River Junction, but was released on bail. Reunited, the gang hit the First National Bank of Grafton, Massachusetts, not far from Sam’s Worcester home.

      In January, 1871 the gang of thieves robbed a bank in Waterbury, Connecticut. Afterwards, Parris was rumored to have fled to England. By May he was back in the United States, but was captured by detectives in Hoboken, New Jersey. Several states (Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine) requested Parris, but ultimately it was decided to send him back to Worcester to stand trial for the Grafton bank robbery.

      Gleason, Dockerty, Parris, and Sam’s father Reuben all faced charges. Reuben Parris was accused of driving the thieves to Grafton, and for accompanying his son to New York to sell some bonds stolen from the Grafton bank. Gleason and Dockerty were convicted and sent to the Massachusetts State Prison for long stretches: thirteen and fourteen years. Reuben Parris was acquitted of the most serious charges. Sam Parris was still waiting to learn his fate when he escaped from the Worcester jail, aided by his wife Harriet. The escape was meticulously planned:

      Three months later, in July 1872, a gang of eight or nine men hit the bank at Uxbridge, Massachusetts. The technique was the same employed by Parris’ former partners, Gleason and Dockerty: they would lay in wait for the bank cashier, gag him, beat and threaten him, and then force him to open the safe. Parris’ partners are not known, but sometime in the mid 1870s, he was frequently mentioned as being one of George Leslie’s gang, which included Jimmy Hope, Abe Coakley, and Johnny Dobbs (Michael Kerrigan).

      In 1876, Parris re-teamed with an old partner, George Miles White, to rob a bank in Barre, Vermont. White was captured, while Parris eluded authorities. White was imprisoned for a long sentence, and emerged from jail reformed by religion. He went on to write two books about his criminal career and religious conversion, From Boniface to Bank Burglar and Penalty and Redemption.

      Parris left the United States and went to Europe, where he conspired with other touring American criminals; but what crimes they successfully committed are not known. He returned to the United states and took part in the infamous robbery at the Dexter bank in Maine in February 1879. As was his pattern, the bank cashier was threatened; when he proved uncooperative in opening the inner vault door, one of the gang of robbers locked the man behind the vault’s outer door. Most accounts suggest that Worcester Sam Parris was the guilty party when the cashier was found dead the next morning.

      The Dexter job had been planned by mastermind George Leslie, who rarely participated in the actual robbery. Now that the gang had blood on their hands, it was feared that Leslie might lose his nerve. Leslie was subsequently murdered in Westchester County, just across the border from New York City. Who killed Leslie is not known, but the leading suspects were Johnny Dobbs and/or Sam Parris.

      Parris laid low for several years, some of which were spent in Philadelphia under the protection of Jimmy Hope and his friends. The last crime that Parris was thought to be involved in was a robbery at a Walpole, New Hampshire drug store with partner Thomas McCormick. McCormick was captured and sent to prison; Parris (if it was him) put up a desperate fight, twice breaking away from officers, before outrunning them.

      Worcester Sam then disappeared. An article from Cincinnati published in 1904 suggested that he was still alive, and still wanted as a fugitive in Worcester.

      There is one curious mention of Parris after 1883: the June 1900 issue of The Blue Pencil Magazine contained an article by respected editor and newspaperman James F. Corrigan, titled “The Murder of Nathan.” Corrigan relates meeting an old bank robber at the New York docks in 1898, and discussing an old unsolved murder with him. It was the killing of banker Benjamin Nathan that took place in 1870, that remained unsolved. The old bank robber told Corrigan who had committed the crime, and said both perpetrators were long dead [Charles Dennis and Hugh “Kew” Carr; the pair had been briefly considered as suspects, but it was found that Dennis was in jail when Nathan was murdered.] Corrigan named his informant as “Worcester Sam,” a name that hardly anyone would have recognized in 1900.

#47 Emile Voegtlin

~ jpkntz ~ 1 Comment

Emil Thomas Voegtlin (1860-1909) — Boarding room and hotel thief

From Byrnes’s text:
DESCRIPTION. Twenty-six years old in 1886. Born in United States. Single. Scenic artist by trade. Medium build. Height, 5 feet 10 inches. Weight, 155 pounds. Brown hair, hazel eyes, dark complexion. Wears black mustache and side-whiskers. Has a very genteel appearance.
RECORD. Voegtlin, who branched out lately as a boarding-house and hotel thief, is the son of very respectable people in New York City. That he is a professional there is no doubt. He is a clever man, and his picture is well worth having, as he is not very well known outside of New York. He was arrested in New York City on April 23, 1882, for stealing jewelry at No. 7 Fifth Avenue, where he was boarding. On account of his family judgment was suspended, after he had pleaded guilty and promised to reform.
      He was arrested again in New York City on December 12, 1883, charged by a Mrs. Josephine G. Valentine, a guest of the Irving House, corner Twelfth Street and Broadway, with stealing from her room there a diamond-studded locket and other jewelry. The scoundrel almost implicated an innocent girl, whom he was keeping company with, by giving her some of the stolen jewelry. Voegtlin was convicted of grand larceny in Part I of the Court of General Sessions, and sentenced to five years in State prison on January 8, 1884. Immediately after his sentence he was taken to Part II of the same court, and sentenced to one year on the old suspended sentence, making six years in all. His imprisonment will expire, if he earns his commutation, on March 7, 1888.       Voegtlin’s picture is an excellent one, taken in 1884.

      In order to appreciate the crimes of Emil Voegtlin, one has to consider the dynamics of the Voegtlin family.

      In the years before motion pictures, the grand masters of the visual performing arts were theatrical costume designers, set designers, and scenic artists. The premiere scenic artist working in America from the 1850s through the 1880s was Swiss-born William A. Voegtlin. Voegtlin often received headline billing equal to (and sometimes exceeding) the main actors of a production. He was frequently hired to paint the interiors of opera houses and theaters, in addition to pieces used in specific productions. His works, combined with lighting effects, were masterpieces of deception, creating dramatic panoramic landscapes within the confines of a small stage.
      In 1857, William Voegtlin married Bertha Fleischman in the town of Peru, Illinois. Over the next twenty-five years, they had nine children–but only two survived to adulthood: Emil, born in 1860; and Arthur, born in 1862.
      By 1881, the family made their headquarters in a prosperous New York City boarding house. William was often on the road, but the young men sometimes joined him as assistants, and both learned their father’s craft.


      In early 1882, Bertha, now 42, formed a relationship with a wealthy, married New York businessman, Carl Voegel. At about the same time as Bertha was beginning this affair, Arthur (age 19) played a cruel prank on Emil. Arthur arranged for the New York Dramatic Mirror print a notice that Emil (age 21) was engaged to a popular new actress, a beauty named Emma Carson. The notice forced the young actress to publicly protest that it was not true. The Dramatic Mirror retracted the story the next week.
      A month later, in April 1882, Emil was arrested for perpetrating a series of thefts that had occurred in the boarding house. He pled guilty, and confessed that he had spent the proceeds of his robberies “in dissipation.” Thanks to the entreaties of his parents, his sentencing was suspended.
      Later that autumn, Bertha ran away with Carl Voegel to San Francisco. They presented themselves as “Mr. and Mrs. Voegel,” though both were still legally married to others. In November, 1882, Bertha filed papers for divorce from William A. Voegtlin, claiming that he was cruel and intemperate. William A. Voegtlin visited California in March of 1883, working for theaters there. He was served with the divorce papers. In April, he filed a cross-suit accusing Bertha of adultery.
      Meanwhile, Emil Voegtlin spent the summer of 1883 at a Hudson Valley resort in Tarrytown, New York. He romanced a young teen girl, Julia Regna, and by summer’s end gave both her and others in town the impression that their engagement was imminent. Then he left abruptly.
      Emil’s mother Bertha and her new man, Carl Voegel, went on a tour of Europe. However, at some point they split up. Bertha arrived back in New York alone and asked William to provide her with support. He agreed, providing that she lived with son Arthur. The arrangement lasted only a few weeks before Bertha tired of the treatment she received from her estranged husband and sons. She fled New York again–supposedly going to Mexico–and later sent William a letter indicating the divorce had gone through.
      Emil, after fleeing Tarrytown, had returned to the family’s new rooms at the Irving House hotel. He began romancing a young, teen-aged Macy’s employee, Nellie Haight. Soon he was giving her jewelry, and once again it was assumed they would soon announce an engagement. However, it was discovered that Emil had stolen the pieces of jewelry from other hotel residents. He was tried and found guilty; combined with his earlier suspended sentence, he was sent to Sing Sing for a six-year sentence.
      Meanwhile, Emil’s father William returned to California. Believing himself divorced, William began cohabiting with a young Los Angeles fashion designer, Lizzie M. Richey. They were married in May, 1884. However, within a few months, Lizzie discovered letters written to William from his first wife Bertha, and consequently started bigamy proceedings against her husband. William countered with accusations that Lizzie was blackmailing him. Their dispute ran on for a year, until they agreed to separate.


      William A. Voegtlin continued his career as a scenic artist until he died while working on a job in Boston, Massachusetts in May 1892. Where first wife Bertha went to after 1883 is unknown.
      Emil was released from Sing Sing in 1888, whereupon he resumed his career as a scenic artist. He was arrested for larceny while traveling on a job in Berrien Springs, Michigan. He was sentenced to three years at the State Penitentiary in Jackson, Michigan.
      After his release from Jackson, Emil once again pursued the vocation of scenic artist. Both he and his brother went on to have successful careers, although Arthur was much more in demand. Arthur Voegtlin designed many of the facades and interiors at Luna Park, the foremost amusement park of the early twentieth-century; and later moved to Hollywood, where his son had a career as an actor and director. Emil worked exclusively for the scenic artist firm responsible for productions at the New York Hippodrome. He spent his last ten years married to Katherine Foley.
Emil’s larcenous and romantic misadventures came to a stop with his father’s death.

#81 Frederick Benner

~ jpkntz

Francis Bellman (1854-19??), aka Frederick Benner, Frederick Bennett, George Harrison, John Watson, Frank Belmont, Dutch Fred — Pickpocket, Thief

From Byrnes’s text:
DESCRIPTION. Thirty-three years old in 1886. German. Born in United States. Barkeeper. Married. Well built. Height, 5 feet 6 inches. Weight, 148 pounds. Light hair, blue eyes, light complexion. Wears a light-colored mustache. Has letters “F. E.” in India ink on his left fore-arm.
RECORD. Benner, alias “Dutch Fred,” is a New York burglar and pickpocket, having served time in Philadelphia and New York penitentiaries for both ofifenses. He is very well known in both cities and is considered a clever man. He was arrested on May 31, 1879, in the Lutheran Cemetery, on Long Island, N.Y., in company of Johnny Gantz, another New York pickpocket, charged with picking a woman’s pocket. He was sentenced to five years in Sing Sing prison, in the Queens County, Long Island, Court, in June, 1879.
      He made his escape from the jail in Long Island City, in company of three other prisoners, on June 28, 1879, by sawing through the iron bars of the jail windows. He was arrested again in New York City on July 24, 1879, and delivered to the Sheriff of Queens County, who at once delivered him to the prison authorities at Sing Sing. Benner was arrested again in New York City, and sentenced to three years and six months in State prison at Sing Sing, on August 20, 1883, for burglary, under the name of Frederick Bennett. His time expired on April 20, 1886. “Dutch Fred’s” picture is a good one, taken in October, 1877.

      Byrnes’ account of Frank Bellman’s career up to 1886 covers all that is known of his crimes to that point. He was never considered more than a second-rate thief. While one Sing Sing register correctly identified his real name as Bellman, Thomas Byrnes did not appear to know this. Bellman came from a large German family living in Jersey City, New Jersey. Two of his older sisters died while Frank was a teen.

      In December 1886, after Byrnes’ first edition was published, Bellman was arrested under the name “George Harrison” for assaulting a saloon owner named George Kling. Bellman realized that if recognized as a repeat offender, he would face a long sentence, a prospect he feared:

 
      Bellman’s injuries were not fatal. He was brought into court three months later, recognized as a repeat offender, and sentenced to eighteen years in Sing Sing.

      At some point early in his incarceration, a movement was started to promote clemency for Bellman. How this started isn’t known: it could have been because of sympathy generated by his sentencing theatrics; or family members could have lobbied on his behalf. However, the most plausible and intriguing possibility is that Bellman himself reached out from behind bars to contact his favorite author, Laura Jean Libbey.


      Laura Jean Libbey was a bestselling author of dime novels featuring young working women, alone in the world, struggling for advancement (although that often was accomplished through marrying a successful man). Her works were immensely popular–putting her on par with Horatio Alger and Erastus Beadle of the previous generation. Some sources mention that–for reasons unknown–her works were also popular among an unexpected demographic: male convicts.

      Libbey, at that time, was unmarried. She responded to Bellman’s plight and lobbied New York Governor Flowers to commute his sentence. Her plea was effective: Bellman was set loose in December, 1892.

      Six months later, he was caught stealing shoes from a shoe store. He had grabbed four shoes–none of which were mates to another. He was nabbed by NYPD officer Kuntz [sadly, not a close relative of the blog author. -ED] By 1900, Frank was out of prison and living in a boarding house in Jersey City. His whole family, save one married sister, was gone: three brothers, two sisters, and his parents had died before Frank reached forty. How much longer Frank lived is unknown.

 Laura Jean Libbey