Showing posts with label Civil Unrest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Civil Unrest. Show all posts

Friday, June 23, 2023

Abraham Lincoln's Itinerary; Friday, April 14, 1865, Washington, DC.



Captain Robert Lincoln arrives in Washington from the scene of General R. E. Lee's surrender at Appomattox, Virginia, in time for an 8am breakfast with President. 

During the morning, Lincoln confers at length with Congressman Colfax (Indiana), who is preparing to visit West Coast. 

Interviews former Senator Hale (New Hampshire), newly appointed minister to Spain, and goes for a short drive with General Grant in town for a cabinet meeting. Receives many members of Congress who call to congratulate him on the successful conclusion of the war. 

Interviews William A. Howard, Detroit Lawyer. 

Writes General Van Alen: "I thank you for the assurance you give me that I shall be supported by conservative men like yourself, in the efforts I may make to restore the Union, so as to make it, to use your language, a Union of hearts and hands as well as of States." 

Visits the cipher room of the War Department, tells General Thomas T. Eckert of plans to attend the Fords Theater and invites him to come along. 

At about 10am, Governor Swann (Maryland) and Senator Creswell (Maryland) presented a memorandum concerning Maryland appointments. 

At 11am, the cabinet meets. 

Grant reported to the cabinet on the surrender of Confederate forces at Appomattox, and Secretary Stanton presents a draft of the plan for reestablishing authority in the Confederate States. 

President tells several cabinet members about his recurring dream of a ship "moving with great rapidity toward a dark and indefinite shore" that presages Union victories. 

The cabinet meeting lasts from 11am to 2pm Informal discussion relative to what should be done about President Davis and other leaders of the Confederacy. 

Between 2 and 3pm, President lunches with Mrs. Lincoln in a private parlor.

Edward D. Neill, a White House employee, sees President about the signed commission. 

Lincoln interviews Vice President Johnson at 3pm Mrs. Nancy Bushrod, a Negro woman, pushes by guards and sees President regarding her husband's pay. 

Congressman Samuel Shellabarger (Ohio) calls on President at approximately 4pm to discuss appointments. 

Assistant Secretary Dana reports to President at 4:30pm that Jacob Thompson, a Confederate agent in Canada, is now in the U.S. making ready to sail for Europe. Should he be allowed to leave the country? President is willing for him to leave. 

Secretary Hugh McCulloch makes a friendly call to President. 

Around 5pm, Congressman Edward H. Rollins (New Hampshire) calls on President to get the petition endorsed. 

In the late afternoon, President and Mrs. Lincoln go for a drive. They stop at Navy Yard to view three monitors, damaged in Fort Fisher, North Carolina, engagement. President talks of a time when they can return to Illinois and live quietly. 

Between 6 and 7pm, President and Mrs. Lincoln return from the drive and find Governor Richard J. Oglesby (Illinois) with other Illinois friends at the White House. Reads four chapters of Petroleum V. Nasby [1].

After supper, President interviews Congressman Colfax (Indiana) relative to a special session of Congress and the order of General Weitzel. Former Congressman Cornelius Cole (California) accompanies Colfax. 

At 8pm, former Congressman Ashmun (Massachusetts) sees President regarding the cotton claim against the government. President gives him an appointment as follows: "Allow Mr. Ashmun and his friend to come in at 9am tomorrow." 

President exchanges a few words with former Congressman Arnold (Illinois) while getting in the carriage to go to the theater.

At approximately 8:30pm, President and Mrs. Lincoln, accompanied by Clara Harris and Major Henry R. Rathbone, enter Ford's Theatre for a performance of "Our American Cousin" featuring Laura Keene. 
John Wilkes Booth
"It is, therefore, safe to say that John Wilkes Booth fired his shot at or close to 13 minutes past 10pm" [The exact time of the shot in the President's box is not agreed upon.]

Shortly afterward, President, completely insensible, is moved across the street to the house of William Petersen, 453 10th Street, NW, and placed on a bed in a small room at the rear of the hallway on the ground floor. Mrs. Lincoln stays near her husband. Robert Lincoln and John Hay come from the White House. Dr. Stone tells Robert there is no hope. Family and others whose official or private relations to President give them the right to be present begin their long night wait for death to overtake him. Doctors' Present just after President Lincoln was shot and during his death.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.



[1] Petroleum V. Nasby was a fictional character created by David Ross Locke, a Unionist and foe of slavery who published barbed satiric attacks on the Southern position during and after the Civil War. The character of Nasby was a coarse, ignorant, and bigoted Copperhead Democrat who expressed his views in a deliberately illiterate and misspelled dialect. Nasby's letters (The Nasby Papers, pub 1864) were published in newspapers across the northern United States, and they became very popular, both for their humor and for their political commentary.
Petroleum V. Nasby

Sunday, June 4, 2023

Chicago Waiters Strike Food Poisoning Epidemic of 1918.

In the summer of 1918, police launched a major raid at the offices of Chicago's waiter's union. They rounded up over 100 servers working in the local restaurant industry on suspicion of food poisoning.
The waiter's strike of 1903 occured the same year that Mickey Finn was arrested.




The raid was unlike anything the city had seen before, and it came after the swanky Hotel Sherman hired an undercover detective to investigate an alarming amount of food poisoning among the hotel's well-to-do patrons.
The Sherman Hotel hired a detective to investigate after an alarming number of diners became ill.


What the detective discovered was astonishing: the city's waiters had been purchasing 20¢ packets of an illegal powdery substance that, if ingested, would cause violent gastronomical problems. The drug was later found to be "tartar emetic," a concoction produced by W. Stuart Wood, a pseudo-pharmacist who manufactured the drug with his wife.

Wood named the drug "Mickey Finn powder" as a tribute to the conniving saloon owner arrested just 15 years earlier. Many believe this was the origin of the saying "slip a Mickey" as a reference to being drugged or knocked unconscious by a spiked beverage or meal.

The drug bust at the waiters' union explained the cause behind countless reports of food poisoning across Chicago in previous weeks.

Customers at restaurants, clubs, and hotels in the city were getting sick, shaking and vomiting uncontrollably after consuming what authorities suspected was food laced with some sort of drug. Police confiscated envelopes filled with the Mickey Finn powder adorned with a written warning on them:

“One of these powders may be given in beer, tea, coffee, soup or other liquid. Never give more than one powder a day. These powders are to be used by adults only.”

Among those arrested in the raid were two men who worked the union headquarters' bar, along with the president of the subsidiary bartenders union, officials from the Waiters and Cooks unions, and Wood, the mastermind behind the powder drug.

According to a report by the Tribune, the customers that had fallen ill during the food poisoning epidemic were mostly "prominent Chicagoans" who hadn't tipped their waiters generously.

Even before Chicago waiters plotted against stingy tippers, another bout of mass food poisoning occurred during a swanky event at the University Club, where dozens of the city's elite, including the mayor and the governor, had gathered and become gravely ill two years prior in 1916.

More than 100 guests at the soiree, held in honor of Chicago's new archbishop George Mundelein, became sick after consuming chicken soup at the event. It turned out that the food had been spiked with arsenic by Nestor Dondoglio, an Italian anarchist who advocated for class revolt and had only meant to poison Mundelein himself.

Dondoglio had disguised himself as an assistant chef named Jean Crones and slipped in among the kitchen staff unnoticed before carrying out his revenge against the city's influential crowd.

After both of these food poisoning incidents, Chicago's food industry descended into fear and chaos.
Captain William O'Brien and Dr. John Robertson examine poison phial's in the room of Jean Crones, the anarchist who poisoned 300 elite guests.


The city's public was on high alert. Food tasters were hired for the city's St. Patrick's Day festivities as waiters across Chicago continued to strike and, in some cases, still poisoned stingy restaurant tippers.

Though separated by decades, Dondoglio's, the waiters, and Finn's stunts all sought to revolt against Chicago's wealthy. Later, drugs and poison would escalate from a means of punishment to a method of murder.

In 1923, Chicago storekeeper Tillie Klimek — nicknamed the "Poison Widow" — made headlines after being convicted of killing her third husband by poisoning his meals. Later, she was linked to the murders of at least 14 other people and animals.

Similarly, in 1931, a woman in Chicago's Rogers Park community was suspected of using flypaper to poison her husband's drinks when she believed he was having an affair. Then in 1942, a couple died of cyanide poisoning at the famed L'Aiglon Restaurant in River North, and later it came out that the woman in the couple was a mistress.

While this trend of mass poisoning bloomed in the 1920s and 30s Chicago, these days, pulling off such a crime would be virtually impossible.

"The truth is it's generally not easy now to poison on a wide scale," said food safety specialist Benjamin Chapman of the Department of Agricultural and Human Sciences at North Carolina State University.

He added: "Cases of intentional poisoning tend to be small — and often a flavor or a taste will tip people off something's wrong. Using our food systems to poison is just not the most efficient, effective way to get at people."

Mickey Finns have since transformed into knock-out drugs made out of clonidine. The drug continues to be the go-to method for scammers and thieves.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The Story of the 1874 Millstadt Illinois Ax Murders on Saxtown Road.

The small Village of Millstadt is located just a few miles from Belleville, a long-established and prosperous town across the Mississippi River from St. Louis. Millstadt has always been known as a quiet community. It was settled long ago by German immigrants who came to America to work hard, be industrious, and keep to themselves. It was a place where nothing bad could ever really happen, or at least that's what the residents in the latter part of the nineteenth century believed. However, the murders that occurred on Saxtown Road forever shattered that illusion. When a local German family was brutally slaughtered in 1874, it created a dark, unsolved mystery.



On March 19, 1874, Carl Stelzenreide, age 70, his son, Frederick, 35, Frederick's wife, Anna, 28, and their children, Carl, 3, and Anna, 8 months, were found brutally murdered in their home on Saxton Road, located outside of Millstadt. The grisly crime was discovered by a neighbor, Benjamin Schneider, who had arrived at the Stelzenreide home early that morning to collect some potato seeds from Carl Steltzenreide. As he approached the house, he found that the area was eerily still. The horses and cattle fenced in the front lot had not been watered or fed, and no one cared for the morning chores.

Schneider knocked on the front door, but no one answered. He called out and looked in the window, but it was too dark inside the house to see anything. Finally, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. As he stepped in, he looked down and saw the body of Frederick Steltzenreide on the floor, lying in a large pool of blood. The young man had been savagely beaten, and his throat had been cut. Three of his fingers had been severed. Panicked, Schneider began looking for the other members of the family. He found Anna and her children lying on a bed. All of them had been bludgeoned to death, and Anna's throat had been cut. Her infant daughter, Baby Anna, was lying across her chest, her tiny arms wrapped around her mother's neck. Her son, Carl, was found next to her. His facial features were unrecognizable because of the brutal blows he sustained to his head. All three of them had apparently been murdered as they slept. In a separate bedroom, Schneider found Carl Steltzenreide. He had been struck so often, apparently with an ax, that he was nearly decapitated. His body was sprawled on the bloodstained floor, and it was later surmised that he had been roused from his bed by noises in the house and struck down as he attempted to come to the aid of his family.

As Schneider looked frantically around, he realized blood was on the floor, spraying wildly onto the walls and staining the room's ceiling. He saw chips and indentions in the plaster that were later determined to have been made by a "Maddox," a combination tool with the head of an ax and a large blade resembling a garden hoe. 

The only survivor of the carnage was the family dog, Monk. He was found lying on the floor next to Anna's bed, keeping watch over the bodies of the mother and her children. Monk was known to be very protective of the family and downright vicious toward strangers. This fact would lead investigators to believe that the killer, or killer, was someone known to the family. They also thought the killer entered the house through a rear door, first killing Anna and the children. Carl was killed when he heard the struggles in the bedroom, and Frederick was killed last. He had been sleeping on a lounge near the front of the house and was murdered after a hand-to-hand struggle with the murderer.

Schneider quickly left and summoned help. The authorities called nearby Belleville for assistance, and several sheriff's deputies and detectives answered. Soon after arriving, Deputy Sheriff Hughes discovered footsteps leading away from the house. As they were examined, it was noted that the prints had been made by boots cobbled with heavy nails, making them very distinctive. Hughes also found indentions in the ground that looked like someone dragging a heavy ax had made them. He followed the tracks for about a mile, and at the end of the trail, he found a pouch of partially chewed tobacco covered with blood. He deduced that the killer had been wounded during his attack on the family and had attempted to stem the bleeding with chewing tobacco. This popular folk remedy was believed to draw the infection from a cut. The footprints, and the bloody tobacco pouch, led the police to the home of Frederick Boeltz, the brother-in-law of Frederick Steltzenreide. 

Boeltz was married to Anna Stelzenreide's sister, and there had been a dispute between Boeltz and Frederick Steltzenreide because $200 that Boeltz had borrowed and never repaid. The two had quarreled over the debt several times. Boeltz was friends with an itinerant farm worker named John Afken, who had once worked for the Steltzenreide family and harbored a grudge against Frederick. Afken was a large and powerful man who made his living as a "grubber," a backbreaking occupation that involved clearing trees and rocks from farm lots. He was considered an expert with an ax and other hand tools and was feared by many because of his quick temper. He also possessed another characteristic of interest to the investigators – he had a full head of light red hair.

Carl Steltzenreide had died clutching a handful of hair precisely the same color.

The bodies of the Steltzenreide family were prepared for burial by ladies from the Zion United Church of Christ in Millstadt. This gruesome task was carried out in the Steltzenreide barn, which still stands on the property today. 
The original barn stands on the Stelzriede land since it was built.


The corpses were in such horrific condition that a number of the women became sick while washing them and had to be relieved. The killer had savaged the bodies so severely with his ax that the adults were nearly decapitated, and the children were bloodied and pummeled beyond recognition. It was brutality like nothing these small-town folks had ever seen before.

The family was laid to rest on Sunday, March 22, at Frievogel Cemetery, just a few miles from their home on Saxtown Road. The news of the massacre spread across the region in newspaper accounts and even appeared on the front page of the New York Times. The terror and curiosity that gripped the area brought more than 1,000 people to Stelzenreide's funeral service.

Immediately after the burial, Deputy Hughes arrested Frederick Boeltz and John Afken on suspicion of murder. Boeltz initially resisted arrest but then demanded to be provided with a bible while locked away in the Belleville city jail. Afken, on the other hand, was said to have displayed an uncanny lack of emotion. He accompanied the officers to jail and remained silent while in custody. During the Coroner's inquest that followed the arrest, Boeltz refused to face the jury, and when shown photographs of the victims' bodies, he refused to look at them. The two men were brought before a grand jury in April 1874, but the jury could not indict them. They believed there was insufficient evidence to connect them to the murders. Both suspects were released a week later. 

Although the authorities could not indict their main suspects, the investigation into the two men's activities and motives did not end. Investigators believed more strongly than ever that Boeltz was somehow involved in the murders, and they based this on the fact that the cash and valuables inside the Steltzenreide house had been undisturbed. They believed there was a motive that was darker than mere robbery for the crime – and that Boeltz was definitely involved.

Just a few days before he was killed, on March 16, Frederick Steltzenreide confided to some friends and neighbors that he had just received a substantial inheritance from relatives in Germany. He was at an auction when he broke the news and was seen carrying a large willow basket covered with an oilcloth. Rumor had it that the basket contained the inheritance, which Frederick had collected at the bank just before attending the auction. 

The Steltzenreide estate was reportedly worth several thousand dollars at the time of the murder. Investigators surmised that the wholesale slaughter of the family might have been an attempt to wipe out all of the immediate heirs to the estate. They believed that Frederick Boeltz, motivated by his dislike for Frederick Steltzenreide and his belief that he would inherit the money because of his marriage to Anna's sister, had hired John Afken to commit the murders. It was a viable theory to explain the massacre, but the police could never make it stick.

Boeltz later brought suit against the Steltzenreide estate to collect whatever money he could. He was eventually awarded $400, and soon after, he and his family moved away from the area and vanished into history.

John Afken remained in the Millstadt area, and the legend is that he was often seen carrying a gold pocket watch. When asked where he had gotten such an impressive timepiece because it seemed much nicer than anything he could afford, Afken would only smile. Some whispered that the pocket watch looked exactly like one that Carl Steltzenreide once owned.

The Steltzenreide home was torn down in August 1954. According to a report in the Millstadt Enterprise newspaper, the property owners, Leslie Jines and his family, were "glad to tuck the tale out of the way with whatever ghosts are there." The owners found it easy to get rid of the cursed, old house, but the ghosts that lingered there were not so easily dismissed. 

Randy Eckert was a more recent owner of the property and a house that stands at the site. In 2004, he told a reporter from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch that he believed the land where the murders took place was haunted. His first experience occurred when strange noises awakened him and his wife one morning. They both heard the sounds of doors opening and closing in the house, although nothing was disturbed. They weren't the only ones to hear something. The family dog, sleeping at the foot of the bed, was also awakened by the mysterious sounds and was terrified and shaking. Eckert added that the sounds were repeated many times over the years, always around the anniversary of the murders.

Chris Nauman, who rented the house from Eckert in the early 1990s, reported his chilling occurrences: "It was 6 o'clock in the morning, and there was a loud knock on the door. At the same time, my girlfriend heard someone walking up the steps in our basement." Al startled by the sounds, Nauman quickly checked the front door and the basement stairs but found no sign of visitors or intruders. The next day, he shared his story with Randy Eckert, asking him about the anniversary of the Steltzenreide murders. Eckert confirmed it for him – the ghostly happenings had occurred on March 19, the anniversary of the murders.

Nauman still remembers the effect this had on him, "A cold shiver ran up my spine."

To this day, the slaughter of the Steltzenreide family remains unsolved. While many suspects have been suggested over the years, there is no clear answer to the mystery. The area where the house once stood along Saxtown Road has changed very little since 1874, and it's not hard to imagine the sheer terror of those who lived nearby after news of the murders began to spread.

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HOW MILLSTADT GOT ITS NAME.  Although the village name was officially spelled as “Centerville” in the records of the Recorder of Deeds of St. Clair County, the German settlers usually used the European spelling of “Centreville.” George Kuntz was appointed the town’s first postmaster on June 7, 1843. When the application was first made for a post office at “Centreville,” that name was rejected in Washington, DC, since there was already a post office in Centreville in Wabash County, Illinois. 

It is reported that the petitioners then translated the name “Centreville” into German and came up with the name 'Mittlestadt' or 'Middlestadt.' Either the writing was not clear, or the officials in Washington could not read the German writing because the name that was approved was “Millstadt."

Thus from 1843-1878, the people in town lived in Centreville but got their mail at the Millstadt Post Office. On September 14, 1878, the Board of Trustees of the Village of Centreville passed a revised ordinance to change the village's name to the ‘Village of Millstadt,” so the village name and the post office name were the same. 




"Several times have we been called on to record deeds of blood and villainy. And now, we undertake to record the most appalling crime in this State in several years. An investigation by an official revealed a scene that would make the stoutest heart quail. Should the discovery of the murderer have been made by the neighbors of the murdered family assembled around the bodies at the Coroner's inquest, there would have been no need for a judge or jury, for the excited populace would surely have torn them limb from limb."

Like many others, the Stelzriede family immigrated to southern Illinois from Germany.

They settled in a small rural track of land known as Saxtown, about five miles south of today's Millstadt, which remains steeped in German heritage today.

Saxtown in 1874 was a small, close-knit collection of families trying to survive by farming the land amid an economic depression.

On March 17, 1874, when Benjamin Schneider needed to borrow some potato seeds, he ventured to his neighbor's small log cabin home.

Schneider noticed the Stelzriede land was quiet. Nobody was bustling around doing the family chores. The horses and cattle had not been watered or fed. Schneider knocked on the front door.

There was no answer.

He looked in the windows. Nothing. Schneider went back to the front door and walked inside. What he found was the aftermath of a crime so gruesome it would eventually captivate the entire nation.

65-year-old Carl Stelzriede was lying in a large pool of blood, throat cut from ear to ear, his body nearly decapitated.

In the next room was his 36-year-old son Frederich, skull crushed and throat slashed.

Next to him was his 28-year-old wife Anna and their children, three-year-old Karl and eight-month-old Anna. All had been bludgeoned to death, believed to be by an axe.

The bodies were all found cold.

Word of the Saxtown murders blared on the front page of the New York Times.

Meanwhile, the small German farming community was horrified.

So what happened that horrific day in Saxtown? Police began looking backward.

About six weeks before the Stelzriede family was brutally murdered, a German farmer was shot and killed in broad daylight. Later, another farmer was nearly beaten to death in his wagon.

Before the murders, Frederick Stelzriede told some friends he had just received a substantial inheritance from Germany.

The Stelzriede estate was reportedly worth several thousand dollars at the time of the murder. Police now tied themselves to the theory that the murder of the family was intended to eliminate all heirs to the estate.

Police discovered that very little was taken from the home, leading them to believe the motive was personal.

Two separate rewards of $1,000 were offered to solve the crime, but that caused more problems. Private investigators soon flocked to Saxtown, hoping to claim big money, giving police tips on nearly everyone.

There was one survivor of the carnage of Saxtown, the family dog, Monk. He was found lying on the floor, quietly watching over the bodies.

Monk was said to be vicious toward strangers, so police believed the murderer was someone who was friends with the family.

And there were suspects.

Frederick Boeltz, who had a poor reputation in Saxton before the Stelzriede family's slaughter, was the first name on the list.

Boeltz was married to Anna Stelzriede's sister and had borrowed $200 ($5,325 today) from the Stelzriede family and never paid it back. That debt led to a long-standing feud with Frederich Stelzriede.

Police theorized Boeltz believed he would inherit the family farm and money if he was the only living relative, which gave him motive.

Inside the home, police found blood-covered tobacco. Outside, they discovered footprints leading away from the house.

Next to the footprints were large marks in the ground, which officers speculated had been made by someone dragging an axe as they walked.

For more than a mile, police tracked the prints to see where they led.

Along the trail, they found a pouch of tobacco covered with blood. They walked and walked until the footprints came to a stop right at Boeltz's front door.

After initially resisting arrest, Boeltz was charged with murder. At his trial, according to the paper, he "almost fainted at the ghastly sight" when shown pictures of the bodies.

For reasons lost to history, the jury found Boeltz not guilty. He later sued the Stelzriede estate and was awarded $400. He moved away from Saxtown and was never seen again.

Police then turned to a second suspect. A friend of Boeltz named John Afken also occasionally worked for the Stelzriede family.

Like Boeltz, he had a long-running grudge against Frederich Stelzriede. Afken was a large and powerful man who made his living with an axe.

He also had a bad temper and was feared by many in Saxtown. But he had one other characteristic that interested the police the most: He had the brightest red hair in town.

In fact, it was the exact same color as a clump of hair Carl Stelzriede was found clutching as he lay dead in a pool of blood.

Afken was taken to jail but was later released for reasons unknown.

Unlike Boeltz, he stayed in Saxtown. Legend says from then on, he would always carry an expensive gold pocket watch with him. If he was asked where he acquired such an impressive piece on his small salary, Afken just smiled.

Carl Stelzriede once owned an identical pocket watch.

Eight more suspects would eventually be arrested. All ended up being released.

On March 22, 1874, more than 1,000 people attended the Stelzriede family's burial.

Shortly after that, money came from relatives in Germany to have the family's remains moved to the more well-kept Walnut Hill Cemetery in Belleville, where an obelisk was being constructed in the family's memory.

But when a grave digger appeared to move the bodies, Saxtown residents rushed to the scene and blocked his path. And they brought their weapons, which may have included an axe. The grave digger left empty-handed.

There is no Saxtown today, just a short, winding country road. If you head west from Millstadt, Freivoel cemetery will be on a hill to your right. There you'll find tombstones from the 1800s, many rendered unreadable by the erosion of time.

That cemetery is where Stelzriede's family was buried, but you won't be able to find them.

They are in five unmarked graves, next to a family member who died years earlier.

Meanwhile, 10 miles away at the Walnut Hill Cemetery, the nine-foot obelisk towers over the grounds paying tribute to the slain family.

Incredibly, after the Saxtown murders, the log cabin stood. Longtime Millstadt resident Butch Hettenhausen had family grow up in the house.

"I have a picture of my mother in the house," he said. "It's dated 1905, so she would have been about five years old."

The cabin stood until 1954 when it was torn down. According to Millstadt Enterprise, Leslie Jines was the owner and decided enough was enough. "We are glad to tuck the tale out of the way with whatever ghosts are there," Jines said.

But the barn that hosted the horses and cattle on that gruesome night still stands tall, with hatchet marks visible in the wood.

In 1986, Randy Eckert, who lives nearby, bought the land and built a small house on the cabin site. Eckert, who was raised in Millstadt, was always intrigued by the legend of Saxtown.

"I always wanted to buy that farm," Eckert said. "I decided to live in the house for a couple of  years."

That did not last long.

Eckert said he and his wife noticed strange things happening every year around the anniversary of the killings.

One event has never left his mind.

"We were sleeping, and we had this small dog, and the dog woke us up. It was just shivering like crazy," he said. "My wife got up and said, 'Do you hear something?' and I said, 'Yeah.' Then all of a sudden, we heard a dog howling from like 100 years ago."

Then it got stranger.

"Then we heard someone pounding on the door. The door to the house has glass windows, and it's a tiny house. One step out of the bedroom, and you can see the door, and that door was bounding. Somebody was beating on that door," he said. "I walked straight to the door, never seeing anybody out the window, and the closer I got, the sound disappeared. When I got to the door, there was nobody anywhere."

That was enough for Eckert, who moved out and decided to rent the house.

"I always tell renters the house's history," he said. "You must be in the right frame of mind to live there."

For some reason, the renters don't stay long. Eckert said he's probably had a dozen people move out.

Many reported strange occurrences around the anniversary of the killings, even if they didn't know the date.

But some love the history of the place.

Spencer Shaw is the latest resident.

"I love it here," Shaw said. "When we were looking at moving in, Mr. Eckert told us the history of the house, and we were like, 'Oh my God, that's so cool!'"

Shaw says despite being so far out in the country, his front yard is a busy place. "Cars are driving past the house all the time. They slow down and take pictures. It's like I live in a famous place."

So far, Shaw has yet to experience anything that rivals Eckert's. But he knows the big test is in March.

"The anniversary. That's when everything is supposed to happen around here. I plan on staying. Of course, my mind could be changed."

The Belleville Advocate wrote 1874: "The Saxtown murder will pass into history with the additional word 'mystery' pinned to the name."

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.


Friday, June 2, 2023

The Hight-Sweetin Double Murder Case, Ina, Illinois, 1924.

The Lawrence Milton Hight and Elsie Sweetin double murder case was one of the most sensational to ever hit Jefferson County, Illinois. Newspapers all over the country sent reporters to cover the case, folk songs were written about the illicit love affair and resulting murders and special trains carried spectators to the trial. 
Reverend Lawrence Milton Hight, September 29, 1924
Early in the summer of 1924, the Rev. Dr. Lawrence M. Hight was finishing up services in the tiny Methodist church of Ina, Illinois. He was a circuit rider, and Ina was one of four churches he served in the Southern Illinois area known as “Little Egypt,” presumably because it came to a point in Cairo (pronounced “KAY-ro”). When he closed his Bible and stepped down from the pulpit, Hight took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. Under the cover of the hanky, he quickly winked at the attractive 31-year-old mother of three in the front row. Elsie Sweetin, looking away from the pastor, raised her right hand and rested it over her heart. The pastor lowered his head in an almost imperceptible nod and hurried to take his place at the front door to shake hands with the departing congregation.

The wink and the nod, subtle as they were, did not go unnoticed. Tongues began wagging. Ina was a small village, not more than 400 souls, with a railway station and a few ramshackle one-story shops.  The Methodist church was the only place of worship in town. It was, in short, the kind of place where a clandestine love affair, especially one involving the sole clergyman, could not remain a secret for long. The people were of old pioneer stock who crossed the Cumberland Gap with Daniel Boone. “The Ina villagers are a people strangely taciturn and unemotional,” the Chicago Tribune noted. “Their eyes are cold.”

Hight was small in stature. He once raised horses in Johnson County, Illinois, and rode as a jockey until the Lord called him to the pulpit. He was a fiery preacher with penetrating blue eyes. Sometimes at revivals, when the spirit truly got hold of him, he would laugh hysterically, and the laughter was contagious. He would soon have the whole gathering giggling like children, but no one louder than the firecracker preacher. He and his wife, Anna, had recently taken up residence in Ina’s parsonage with two of their three children. They also had a married daughter. The minister’s wife was a large woman, weighing more than 200 pounds, sensitive about the appearance she made standing next to her jockey-sized husband, so they were seldom seen together in public.

Elsie Sweetin was of medium height and weight, neither stout nor slender, the papers said, “more average than pretty.” Her features were regular: a square chin, a straight, distinctive nose, bright white teeth, and clear gray eyes. She didn't use much make-up but had a sparkling, upbeat personality that made her popular in the community.

Elsie had a rough upbringing. She began working at 11 at various odd jobs and continued to work until she married Wilford Sweetin at 17 years old. They lived and worked on a farm for a while, then Wilford took a job at a mine in Mason, over an hour’s drive away, and moved his wife and three boys into the village, renting a small yellow cottage alongside the railroad tracks. A loyal wife and a loving mother, Elsie’s reputation was spotless.

Wilford "Jack" Sweetin, who worked at Nason Mine, sustained a slight injury to his arm when some mine timbers collapsed on July 16, 1924.

The following day, being off work, he accompanied his wife Elsie on a trip to Benton, Illinois, to do some errands. Elsie did the driving. While in Benton, they went to a drug store where they each had a Coca-Cola and a dish of vanilla ice cream, then they purchased a sack of candy and some peanuts. On the way home, Wilford got sick to his stomach, and after they arrived Elsie said she wasn't feeling well either and that she was going to lie down while Wilford drove on to Nason to have his arm looked after. 

Later that same day, Elsie went to the store and returned to find her husband in bed and very sick. She called Dr. I. A. Foster and, when Wilford didn't get any better, called Dr. S.D. Harper, the mine doctor from Sesser. After being told that they had both eaten ice cream and chocolate candy, both doctors agreed that Wilford was suffering from ptomaine poisoning. 

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The term Ptomaine Poisoning is caused by any of various amines formed by putrefactive bacteria. Today the illness is called food poisoning.

When Wilford continued to vomit and suffer great pain, Elsie called Dr. John Clinton of Whittington, their family doctor, who gave him morphine shots for pain. A week later. Wilford was still not improving, and Dr. Sam A. Thompson: was called in. He, too, believed it to be ptomaine. 

By Sunday, July 27, ten days after the trip to Benton, Wilford was in critical condition. Frantically, Elsie called Doctors Clinton, Harper, Thompson and Hamilton. The Reverend Lawrence Hight was there also, offering prayers and words of comfort, but on Monday morning at 3:15, Wilford died, at age 41, leaving Elsie a widow with three small children. 
 
The four attending physicians performed an autopsy, observed that Wilford had an enlarged liver and decided that he had probably died of cirrhosis.  

Following a memorial service at the Methodist Church conducted by Rev. Hight, Wilford was buried at Kirk Cemetery the following afternoon. The body was not embalmed. 

Brother Hight preached a great funeral service, proclaiming that Wilford had died a saved man, a Christian. "I converted him on his deathbed, and he gave his soul to God." He concluded the service by saying that he felt unworthy to preach at the funeral. 

Gossip had been going around for some time about Elsie, and the Reverend and neighbors noted on the morning of the funeral that Reverend Hight while sitting with Elsie on her porch swing, was comforting her by rubbing her face, her arms and her breasts. 

After Wilford's death, Elsie clerked in a store, took care of her three boys, and still found time for her church work. In August, she stayed at Bonnie Camp Meeting for a few days. Reverend Hight and his wife Anna were there too. Brother Hight, who had served several churches in Southern Illinois, was much in demand as a speaker. Still, despite his religious fervor, people in Ina continued to wonder about his relationship with Elsie, the beautiful 32-year-old widow woman. 

On Saturday, September 6, after Reverend Hight and his wife returned from a camp meeting at Eldorado, he went to the store and purchased some minced ham to make sandwiches for dinner. He wasn't very hungry, but his wife, who weighed about 200 pounds, had a generous portion. Before long, she and the children began complaining of indigestion. 

By Sunday, she began vomiting and having severe stomach pain. When she was no better by Monday, Hight sent for Dr. John Clinton, who had treated Wilford Sweetin. By Tuesday, Anna was paralyzed from the neck down, and by Thursday was vomiting blood. Dr. Walter Alvis of Benton was called in for a consultation, and both doctors agreed that she was suffering from ptomaine poisoning. 

On September 12, 1924, Anna Windhorst Hight, age 44, passed away. She and Reverend Hight had been married 26 years and had three children. She was then taken to Metropolis, Illinois, her hometown, for burial in Miller Cemetery, near the village of Round Knob. 

Hight returned to Ina to find that his wife's death had created quite a stir. Jesse A. Reese, Jefferson County Coroner, had ordered an investigation that would include an analysis of the contents of Mrs. Hight's stomach. When the report came back from a Chicago laboratory several days later, Reese issued an order for the arrest of Lawrence Hight, charging him with the murder of his wife Anna.  

Hight was taken into custody by Jefferson County Sheriff Grant Holcomb at Tamaroa, Illinois, where he was visiting, and later that same day, Holcomb, Reece and States Attorney Frank G. Thompson searched the Ina, Illinois Parsonage for evidence and a box of arsenic was found. 

At the Mt. Vernon Jail, Hight told newsmen, "I know of no reason why arsenic should be found in my wife's vital organs. If she ever thought of suicide I don't know it. As for the arsenic in my house, I think we have had some in the house ever since I have been Married; we always used it for rat poison. And so far as Mrs. Sweetin is concerned, I never talked to the woman alone in my life."

A jury was quickly assembled, and on September 18, two months after his death, the body of Wilford Sweetin was ordered exhumed. All of Ina waited anxiously for the results to come back from the same Chicago Laboratory. 

The following day Anna Hight's remains were disinterred and certain organs removed to make a more complete case. 

Even though it had been discovered that Hight had purchased poison on three different occasions, twice in Mt. Vernon and once at Benton, he remained very composed through hours of questioning. He said rats were just awful around the parsonage and explained, "They carried off young chickens right in front of our eyes, and I was forced to resort to something stronger." 

Wilford Sweetin's body was exhumed on September 20, 1924, and the vital parts were sent to Dr. McNally for examination, and this appeared to be the minister's only worry. Hight said, "If arsenic is found in that body, I'm afraid I am done for."

Hight whiled away his time in jail singing religious songs, though some folks said he was far too worldly and enjoyed telling risque stories far too much for a man of the cloth. When questioned about his attentions to women, he replied, "I have never had a lustful thought about a woman since I was married.

The report from Dr. McNally's laboratory in Chicago confirmed everyone's Suspicions, Wilford Sweetin had died from arsenic poisoning, not from ptomaine.  Armed with this evidence, Slates Attorney Frank Thompson spent several hours questioning his prisoner. Finally, at 3 am, a reporter ran to get a bible, and Hight was ready to confess.

Hight admitted responsibility for both murders. explaining that he did it to put them out of their misery; he denied that romance between him and Elsie had prompted the murders, saying that there had never been anything between them except that she was one of his flock and a good Christian.  

"I killed my wife," he said to end her suffering. She was dying of ptomaine poisoning, and I only wanted not to see her in such anguish." 
 
After hearing Hight's confession States Attorney Thompson told the press he felt he owed it to the church not to ask for the death penalty, that life imprisonment should be sufficient." 

Since the church leadership was having serious doubts about the impression Rev. Hight might be having on his flock, Reverend C.C. Hall of Mt. Carmel, Superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church, called on the self-confessed mercy killer to request the return of his clerical credentials. When admitted to Hight's cell, Rev. Hall urged him to make a full confession for his "spiritual benefit." This had an effect on Hight because he shortly confessed his sins, and this time he implicated Elsie in the murder of her husband.
 
Elsie was arrested the next day but adamantly refused to admit any part in the "love pact" She said, "I can't explain why Hight: named me as the murderer of my husband. He must be a coward, anxious to share guilt with whoever" might be a plausible suspect. His statement about me is a terrible lie." 

She told the newsmen. "This talk of a clandestine love affair is untrue. He came to our house occasionally with milk, but he never showered any attention on me." 

"Once, however," she added self righteously, "in talking to me, he put his hand on my knee, and I rebuked him for it." "Yes," she said, with injured innocence, "I thought he was a good man, sanctimonious and sincere in his church work and spiritually a good man." 

When he was unable to shake Elsie's confidence, Thompson decided to place Hight together in a cell by themselves and to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

Thompson and Sheriff Holcomb heard Hight say, "Elsie, Sweetheart, I am now standing in the light of sanctification. You did your killing first, then I did mine. I have admitted mine and am happy." Then he whispered, "You know you are guilty, I don't think I should take all the blame." 

She replied by gallantly offering to take care of his children while he was in prison. 

No, Elsie," he answered, "I want you to bear this burden with me." Kissing noises were heard from the cell, and as Thompson led Hight away he broke down and said, "I love that woman, and I think she reciprocates that love."

Something reached Elsie, for within the hour, she confessed to her husband's murder. She showed little emotion as she told the following story in a signed confession.

LAWRENCE HIGHT'S JAIL CELL CONFESSION TO REV. C.C. HALL ON SEPTEMBER 22, 1924, CHICAGO TRIBUNE:
"I make this statement to the Rev. C.C. Hall. Mrs Elsie Sweetin and I fell in love and intended to get married. We made arrangements to put her husband, Wilford Sweetin, and my wife, Anna, out of our way. She, Elsie, asked me what to get, and I got arsenic. I brought it it in Benton on July 22. I gave it [the poison] to Mrs. Sweetin. I never gave her husband any arsenic. I said I did because I didn't want to give her away; and after his death it was up to me to put my wife away, according to our pact. I did not intend to do anything until after we moved, but she, my wife, got sick and I did. Lawrence M. Hight

Immediately after this, Sheriff Holcomb was reached on the telephone at Ina. He at once placed Mrs. Sweetin under arrest.

Sheriff Holcomb and Coroner Reece, seated outside the office of the state's attorney, were called in and signed as witnesses. "Now can I sleep?" "Not until you tell us about Sweetin. You killed him, too, didn't you?" 

Agitation was registered plainly on the face of the shrinking clergyman.

"The Sweetins would kill me if I admitted I poisoned Wilford," he cried. "There sits the sheriff," replied Mr. Thompson. "He will tell you, as I tell you, that not on man in this county will put a finger on you. You will answer for you crime only to the court." Hight seemed relieved at the assurance.

"Yes, I killed him," he admitted. "Tell us about that, too. Then you can sleep for a week, if you want to."

A SECOND LAWRENCE HIGHT CONFESSION, CHICAGO TRIBUNE:
"I, Lawrence M. Hight, of my own free will voluntarily, without threat or promises, and having been fully informed of my rights, that what I say may be used against me, make the following statement, that on Sunday morning, July 27, 1924, at the home of Wilford Sweetin, at Ina, Jefferson County, Illinois, I placed some arsenic in a glass of water and gave it to Wilford Sweetin, who drank it. I did it to ease his pain. Elsie Sweetin knwe nothing of this and there was never anything between her and myself in any way." Lawrence M. Hight 

The two confessions were followed by a third, in which the pastor blaimed Mrs. Sweetin for her husband's death.

HANG HIM, SAYS PASTOR, DETROIT, MICHIGAN, SEPTEMBER 23, 1924:
Detroit, Mich. — [Special]
The Rev. Ames Maywood, pastor of Trinity Methodist Episcopal church, had the following to say today concerning the confession of the Rev. Lawrence M. Hight, Methodist pastor of Mount Vernon, Illinois, to the killing of his wife and Wilford Sweetin and to the state's attorney statement that he would not ask for the death penalty because of the cloth. "Hang the Rev. Hight by all means. The state's attorney in absolutely wrong for showing discrimination because of the church. Rev. Hight or any other murderer is a menace to society and society must be protected. If any discrimination is to be shown, let the Almighty God show it when Hight faces his maker. Maudlin sentimentality is influencing our courts and increasing crime tenfold. The Hight case should set the example the Franks case failed to."
 
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Bobby Franks, 14, was murdered by two young men, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, in May 1924.

URBANA DAILY COURIER, SEPTEMBER 25, 1924 HEADLINES:
  • Rev. Hight's Flock Blames the Devil.
  • Church Folk Insist That Satan Caused Their Pastor to Murder.
  • Others Say "Sex," the Jefferson County Authorities claim.
DAILY ILLINI, DECEMBER 25, 1924:
MRS. SWEETIN CONVICTED OF MURDER.
MT. VERNON, Dec. 24— Bitterness, hate and sorrow remained in the heart of Mrs. Elsie Sweetin as she was led from the courtroom today after hearing a jury pronounce her guilty of the murder by poison of her husband, Wilford Sweetin, and sentenced her to 35 years in prison. Her codefendant, Lawrence M. Hight, received a life sentence.

EXCERPTS FROM ELSIE'S CONFESSION
"I noticed in April 1924 that Lawrence Hight had affection for me. My husband had for some time been treating me with lack of love, and about three months ago, Reverend Hight suggested that he get some poison to give my husband, and he would do the same with his wife." 

"At first, I was horrified, but I had such confidence in him that it seemed the right thing to do, and we finally agreed. A week or so before my husband was hurt in the mine at Nason, Lawrence Hight gave me a paper bag with some poison in it and told me to give some to Wilford. Wilford was hurt on the night of July 16, and we went to Benton the following day. While we were there we went in the drug store and had ice cream and a Coca-Cola, and on the way home, I gave him some chocolate candy in which I had mixed some of the poison Hight had given me." 

"Wilford became very ill but later seemed better, so on Tuesday, I gave him some more poison in oatmeal. He seemed to grow a little better again, and after Dr. S.A. Thompson waited on him on Friday, July 25, I gave Wilford the final dose of poison in some tomato soup. He grew much worse and died on July 28th. Every time Mr. Hight came to the house during Wilford's illness, he encouraged me to give "Wilford more poison." 

"I don't know when he poisoned his wife, but she became ill and died, and I supposed that he had poisoned her. Until I became infatuated with Mr. Hight I had always led a blameless life and had been a true wife and mother. That is the truth, so help me, God." 

Following their confessions, Elsie was taken to the Marion County Jail and Hight to the Washington County Jail in Nashville, Illinois. 

When a delegation of three ministers visited Hight in the Nashville Jail he said, "I'm guilty, Elsie Sweetin walked down the church aisle toward me, and power came over me I could not resist." 

Hight also wrote his daughter at Tamaroa and confessed to her how he and Elsie had arranged their clandestine trysts. 

Elsie, also in the mood for confessions, talked to a reporter, and what she said was later used against her. "I wanted love," she said, "and Wilford Sweetin didn't give me the kind I wanted. He was like a g1acier cold and had no words of affection. I married him when I was only sixteen. My family was very poor. And my father left my mother when I was just a few months old and went to Colorado, forgetting all about my mother, my brother Earl and me. We went to Ewing, where Mother took in washings." 

"I was two years old when Mother married again. There were six children, and I was alone. Mother didn't have much time for me. When I was twelve, I had to quit school and go to work as a housemaid. Then I met Wilford and married him." 

"I loved him, and he loved me. The children came, and they were dear. But something was missing. I had been religious, and again I sought to regain that communion with God." 

"God," what a life. Sweetin made good money, $40.00 or $50.00 a week, working at the mine, and he would come home and just go to bed. I wasn't happy." 

"About a year ago, Hight came to town. He was our preacher, and he won my confidence from the start and later won my heart."
 
"Several months later, there was a revival meeting, and Rev. Hight took me and my cousin Eva Milliner who lived next door. When Eva ran back to get her shawl, he said that he loved her and was holding her hands. I went home after the meeting and didn't know what I was doing. When he began winning, my confidence and I began to love him too. But I always remembered that I was married to another man. He told me his wife didn't love him and that he didn't care for her. He was like God to me, and when he told me I didn't love Wilford and that Wilford didn't love me I believed him." 

"At dusk one day, standing on the church steps) he said he couldn't live without me, and if there was no other way, he would get rid of his wife and marry me. I thought of divorce. I prayed to remain a good wife and mother, and God forsook me. I became his slave, and he a king. I worshipped him and thought he could do no wrong."
 
"Another night in church, he said that we had to get rid of them, we had to kill them. I ran down the road. It was terrible, too terrible to think about. The more I tried to forget it, the more it persisted. Then it seemed like I just had to do what he told me, so when he gave me the poison, I put it in my husband's food. It didn't seem terrible anymore. Love was the most important thing no matter what the world said." 

When Sweetin died I wasn't sorry at all, and Pastor Hight preached a good sermon. We had $1,000 insurance, and I paid that on the house and went to work clerking for $6.00 a week, and my family helped out with the boys." 

Then I began to think how much I loved my husband and how good he had been to me. We had been married for sixteen years. I was afraid Hight would poison his wife, and I didn't want him to do it. I didn't want to marry him then. He wasn't God to me anymore, and I got tired of him. My mind came back to me, and I knew he wasn't as good as I thought he was. He was a preacher and should not have put sin in my mind and murder in my heart. I just wanted to think about my children." 

States Attorney Frank Thompson apparently agreed that Hight should have been more of a gentleman, for he changed his mind and told the press that he was going to ask for the death penalty. 

While Elsie was downstairs making her confession. Hight told reporters that when he was introduced to Elsie at the church, he felt himself slipping, and I went the way of the flesh. 

I sinned and went so far as to commit murder. I do not know what had possession of me unless it was the great love we had for each other. 

I learned from others that Mrs. Sweetin did not love her husband. I did not love my wife. She was never satisfied with anything, and I learned from Elsie that her husband was indifferent to her. 

I am just a human being, after all, but since my confession, I am sanctified, and in harmony with God once more, I am happy today. 

I was never a wicked man and committed no great sin until I came to Ina. I've been a preacher for fourteen years, and I have saved 2,500 souls. 134 were saved last year." 

I sincerely regret that I killed my wife and that Mr. Sweetin was killed, but that can't be helped now, and if I must go to the scaffold, I will go like a man." 

Elsie and Rev. Hight both told States Attorney Thompson that passionless married lives drove them together and led them to the plot to poison their mates so they might marry. 

Rev. Hight said, "There is a lesson in this. Marriages must have passionate love as a basis, or there is no happiness." Had I met and married Mrs. Sweetin, our lives would have been unutterably happy. But she married a cold man, and I married that kind of woman.

Hight declared his passion to the press in terms that left little to the imagination. She was hungry for the love I gave her, It was fated, I couldn't help it and neither could she. We met in the little grove behind her house. Night after night, we would go there, and for hours she would lie in my arms, and we would forget everything but each other.

One day Elsie's father-in-law, Lum Sweetin, who was 66 years old and getting too old to rear Elsie's children, accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and Edwin Rockaway, publisher of the Mt. Vernon Register-News, to the Salem jail to see Elsie. When he asked her if she had given his son poison. Elsie answered, "Yes, I did."




No case had ever attracted so much attention in the press or held such a fascination for local people. On October 17, the day the two prisoners were to be arraigned, the courtroom was packed, and hundreds were turned away. Spectators began to arrive at 6:45 am, and women brought picnic lunches and their babies prepared to spend the day. 

Both Hight and Sweetin entered not-guilty pleas. Elsie was represented by Robert E. Smith of Benton, who later served as council for Charlie Birger. Hight was represented by Nelson Layman of DuQuoin. Judge Julius C Kern of Carmi agreed to grant Hight a sanity hearing and ruled that the two must stand trial together.  

Court proceedings were hard to hear above the noise of crying babies and the murmurings of the spectators. During the opening arguments, one woman fainted and had to be carried from the courtroom.

The trial was not scheduled until December 3rd, Thompson had decided not to run for States Attorney again but was retained by the Jefferson County Board of Supervisors to assist the newly elected States Attorney, Joe Frank Allen. 

Selecting an impartial jury was difficult because everyone seemed to have a preconceived opinion of the case. Finally, after examining over 60 prospective jurors, eight were selected, and by the end of the week, 12 had been impaneled and sequestered until trial resumed on December 9. 

The Mt. Vernon Register News estimated that there was a crowd of 1000 people trying to gain entrance to the court house and Thompson had 75 witnesses lined up, ready to testify if necessary. Among the witnesses were; five different physicians who had treated Wilford Sweetin, Dr. William McNally, the Chicago toxicologist who discovered arsenic in Wilford's body, the drug store clerk who had sold Hight arsenic and two friends of Wilford's who were there when Elsie insisted he drink tomato soup. Elsie's attorney put her on the stand in her own defense. 

During the trial, the village of Ina was almost a ghost town. Many of the 400 residents were either scheduled to appear as witnesses or were spectators. They testified to things they had observed or heard concerning the relationship between Hight and Elsie. The testimony of Columbus "Lum" Sweetin had the greatest impact when he said that Elsie had confessed to him that she had poisoned his son on three occasions, killing him. 

Hight's attorney entered a plea of insanity and had obtained the services of several "alienists' or physicians, who specialize in legal problems of psychiatry, Dr. G.W. Walker. Hight's cousin of Creal Springs remembered how Hight had fallen from a hay loft on his head, and he had suffered abuse from his father. Dr. Charles Anderson, who had been head of Anna State Hospital for 7 years, had given Hight an intelligence test and determined that Hight's intelligence was on par with a child of 10 years and 3 months. In his opinion, Hight was insane and that it might have been hereditary" Dr. Walker recalled that many of their relatives had been of unsound mind. 
 
Despite the efforts of Hight's well-meaning cousin, the State contended Hight was perfectly sane and knew right from wrong, backing it up by producing a  psychiatrist of their own, Dr. Frank Fry from St Louis, who had examined Hight and declared him sane. 
 
Thompson wound up his arguments on December 23, 1924, and the 12 male jurors marched out to begin their deliberations. At 8:35 am. on Christmas Eve, they returned a unanimous verdict of guilty. Only two voted for the death penalty, and therefore he would receive a life sentence. Elsie was sentenced to 35 years in prison and would be eligible for parole in 11 years.

The sensational three-week trial was over. The day after Christmas, Sheriff Grant Holcomb and Constable Ed Clinton drove Elsie to the Benton Jail, where she would be held until sentencing. On the way, she asked permission to visit the grave of her husband at Kirk Cemetery. The sheriff agreed, and the so-called "Woman of Iron" threw herself in the snow across her husband's grave and, even though she had been convicted, hysterically cited that she was innocent. 

Holcomb asked her to get up, and when she didn't, he picked her up bodily and carried tier back to the car.
 
Elsie had become such a celebrity that the Benton jail was thronged with curious spectators. The crowd grew so large Sheriff Henry Dorris hired his wife and two extra deputies just to direct traffic past her cell. The visitors were cheerfully greeted by Elsie, who took the opportunity to protest her innocence.
 
On January 3, Rev. Hight was sentenced to life imprisonment and Elsie to a term of 35 years.

In his many years on the bench, Judge Kern said he had heard many cases of adultery and divorce. Still, he couldn't understand how a minister could arrange to murder a man, then go ahead and convert him and even preach his funeral.

On the way to Menard Prison in Chester, the day of sentencing, crowds assembled at every depot along the way, hoping to catch a glimpse of the notorious clergyman. Hight seemed pleased at the attention and would stand up at the train window so they could get a better look at him. There was a crowd waiting at the prison gates as he entered.

Elsie's lawyer had entered a motion asking for a new trial, but Judge Kern refused the appeal. She was accompanied by Sheriff Holcomb and his wife on her trip to Joliet. They arrived at Union Station in St. Louis at 8:35 A.M. January 7, 1925, on the L&N Railroad. After talking with reporters there, still proclaiming her innocence, they caught the Chicago and Alton train to Joliet.
  
At the prison, another group of journalists was on hand, and Elsie said, "Someday, the truth will come out, and I will be free." 

With money contributed by friends and well-wishers from many states, her attorney appealed to the Supreme Court of Illinois and on April 20, 1927, the court returned its decision. It granted Elsie a new trial on the grounds that she should have been tried separately in the first case. 

On May 10, 1927, two and a half years after entering prison. Elsie returned to Jefferson County for a new trial, accompanied by Sheriff Hal Smith and his wife. 

Elsie's appeal for release on bond was denied, and she had to wait in county jail in Fairfield until the date of her trial. Her attorney. Robert Smith was serving as counsel for Charlie Birger, who was being tried for the murder of the Mayor of West City, so Elsie's trial didn't take place until September. 

Although Charlie Birger was sentenced to hang in Benton. Franklin County, Illinois, no one had ever been sentenced to death in Jefferson County. but prosecutors Joe Frank Allen and Frank G. Thompson planned to ask for the death penalty. 

It was Reece who discovered that Reverend Hight had purchased his wife's cemetery plot in Metropolis, Illinois, three weeks before her death. 

The trial opened on September 13. After examining 111 prospective jurors, a jury of 11 farmers and one garageman had been selected by the end of the third day. Much of the testimony presented by the prosecution was similar to that used in the first trial. Judge Pearce's decision "was somewhat different than that made by Judge J.C. Kern during the first trial. He ruled out the written confession Elsie had signed but accepted the oral confession Elsie had made to Lum Sweetin and to Sarah Lewis, a reporter. 

Again, Elsie denied any guilt and proclaimed her innocence, but the jury did not seem to be unduly impressed with her protests. 

Most of the Village of Ina was present in the courtroom, and again, many brought a basket lunch, expecting the trial to last all day. At 1:45 pm. The jury filed back into the almost deserted courtroom. They would have been back sooner, one explained, but they decided to have lunch first. 

The foreman of the jury, Robert Peters of Bluford, handed the decision to Judge Roy Pearce, explaining that they had reached a unanimous decision on the first ballot. The verdict was "not guilty. Elsie Sweetin was acquitted. Elsie embraced her three sons, her mother, Laura Lemke, sobbed with happiness, and there was hand clapping and cheers from a crowd of well-wishers who surrounded Elsie. 
 
CONCLUSION 
Following the trial, Elsie moved to Chicago and was remarried twice. Lawrence Hight was released on parole on March 28th, 1952, after serving 27 years in jail. He returned to Mt. Vernon, died there on May 6, 1959, at age 84, and is buried at Oakwood Cemetery. 

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Nela Peterson Place told me she was at Elsie's second trial and that most people there felt in their hearts that Elsie was guilty. She also told me that our Uncle Cleve Hester was one of the friends who sat up" with Wilford Sweetin prior to his death. Perhaps he was one of those who saw Elsie feed him the arsenic-laced tomato juice. 

FORMER INA WOMAN DIES IN CALIFORNIA
Ina Observer, Thursday, November 17, 1960.
We are informed that Mrs. Jack Turley, of San Diego, California, died there on October 31.  She was about 70 years old. Mrs. Turley will be remembered as Mrs. Elsie Sweetin. She is survived by three sons: Byford Sweetin of Chicago and Stanton and Harry Lee Sweetin, both residing in California. Funeral services and burial took place in San Diego, California.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.