Chapter I: Part 1

THE NORTHFIELD TRAGEDY
OR THE ROBBER’S RAID

A THRILLING NARRATIVE.

A HISTORY OF THE REMARKABLE ATTEMPT TO ROB THE BANK AT NORTHFIELD,
MINNESOTA.
THE COLD-BLOODED MURDER OF THE BRAVE CASHIER AND AN INOFFENSIVE CITIZEN.
THE SLAYING OF TWO OF THE BRIGANDS.
THE WONDERFUL ROBBER HUNT AND CAPTURE GRAPHICALLY DESCRIBED.
BIOGRAPHIES OF THE VICTIMS, THE CAPTORS & THE NOTORIOUS
YOUNGER AND JAMES GANG OF DESPERADOES.

By J. H. Hanson

John Jay Lemon 26 Minnesota Street St. Paul, Minnesota 1876

THE NORTHFIELD TRAGEDY.

LAYING OUT THE WORK.

Between the 23rd of August and the 5th of September a company of strangers made their appearance at different localities in the State of Minnesota attracting attention by their peculiar bearing, remarkable physique, and decidedly southern phraseology. They would appear sometimes in pairs, and at other times there would be as many as four or five in company. At one time they would be cattle dealers from Texas, and again they were gentlemen in search of unimproved lands for speculative purposes, and then again they were a party of engineers and surveyors prospecting for a new railroad when they would make enquires about roads, swamps, lakes and timber lands, carefully consulting maps they had with them (published at 66 Lake Street, Chicago, 1876), and when opportunity offered Andreas’ State Atlas of Minnesota. These men visited St. Paul, Minneapolis, St. Peter, Red Wing, St. James, Madelia, Garden City, Lake Crystal, Mankato, Janesville, Cordova, Millersburg, Waterville, and Northfield, putting up at the best hotels, spending their money freely, and creating a general impression of free handed liberality. But there was a certain air of audacity blended with their _sangfroid_ and easy manners which led men to think they were no ordinary persons and aroused speculations as to their true character and vocation. The registers of the hotels honored by these guests bear the names of King, Ward, Huddleston, &c., generally written in one line, but subsequent developments prove these to be merely _nommes de guerre._

On Saturday, Sept. 3rd and Sunday five of these strangers were in Mankato, and attracted universal attention by their peculiar carriage, suave manners, and fine, almost _distingue_ appearance. They were well dressed and rode good horses, and sat their horses like men who were bred to the saddle. They made several purchases in the town, and one of them visited the City Bank and obtained change for a fifty dollar bill. When riding through the streets they showed their excellent horsemanship with a great amount of display and swagger entering into conversation with several citizens upon the merits of the animals they rode. They did not all stay at the same hotel, two of them registering at the well known and justly celebrated Clifton House while two others stopped at the Gates House, but it is not known where the fifth man put up. Two of the men, however, spent most of the night on the Sunday at a low brothel kept by the notorious character Jack O’Niel. This foul den of infamy is just outside the city limits on the opposite bank of the Minnesota river, and is surrounded by heavy timber. A more fitting place for a thieves’ rendezvous, and for hatching plots or dark deeds, could hardly be imagined. It should be stated here, that after the visit of the two strangers, Jack O’Neil went to the Sheriff of Mankato and informed him that three young men—living in Mankato were plotting at his house to rob and probably murder an old man supposed to be possessed of considerable wealth, and residing at Vernon, some eighteen miles from Mankato. He made arrangements for the sheriff to overhear their conversation which resulted in the arrest of three young rowdies, Mark Ingals, George Peabody and James Quane, who were frequenters of O’Neil’s infamous den.

A MURDER PLANNED.

It appears that an old man named Gallager, living in a log cabin on the skirts of the woods surrounding Vernon, was supposed to have in his possession a considerable sum of money. The old gentleman lived alone, was known for his parsimony, and thought to be “a penurious niggard of his wealth.” The plan of these young villians was to go to the house of the supposed miser, disguised, pretend to be “lost chicken hunters in the woods,” and induce the old man to come out and show the way. Getting him into the woods they were to extort from him by threats the whereabouts of his supposed hidden treasure, if threats failed, they were to have recourse to torture, and that failing to murder!

O’Neil accompanied these scoundrels reaching the house of Gallagher about 2 o’clock. They enticed the old man out _a la programme,_ one placing himself on each side of him the two others bringing up the rear. After getting some little distance from the house, and as they were passing a shed the one walking behind with O’Neil raised his fist armed with brass “knuckle dusters,” and was about to deal the old man a stunning blow on the head, when he was seized by the Sheriff, who was lying in ambush within the shed. The three were conveyed to Mankato jail and locked up, and subsequently committed for trial upon the evidence of Jack O’Neil and the Sheriff. There are those who think the whale affair was a “put up job” by the notorious Jack to get rid of the three men who were in his way, _and this occurred an the morning of Tuesday, the 7th of September._

JESSE JAMES RECOGNIZED.

Returning to the five strange men in Mankato, they are next seen on the streets on Monday morning when a young man, Chas. Robinson who was acquainted with the notorious Jesse James, went up to one of them and remarked, “How do you do, Jesse, what brings you up this way.” When the man addressed eyeing the speaker keenly from head to foot, replied, “I guess you have mistaken your man” and vaulting into the saddle, galloped away. With this incident, the five men who had attracted so much notice, excited so much admiration, and aroused many vague suspicions, disappeared from Mankato. The same day five similarly dressed, similarly mounted, and similarly appearing, strangers, arrived in Janesville, a village, on the Winona & St. Peter railroad, in Waseca county, about 18 miles from Mankato. As at Mankato they stopped at different hotels, two slaying at the Johnson house, and two at the Farmers’ Home. No one know where the fifth slept, but on leaving the village on the Tuesday morning they halted some little distance out, and one, taking off his duster, rode back toward the village waving it over his head; he was followed in the maneuver by another when all four rode away. It is thought this was a signal for the fifth man, who, it is supposed, stopped at some house in the neighborhood.

Those, who stopped at the Johnson house, never made their appearance at the public table until all of the rest of the boarders had finished their meals, and during their stay in the town declined to admit a chambermaid to their room to arrange it. After their departure several packs of playing cards were found in their room torn up and thrown on the floor, and several handful of buttons of various sizes were scattered about, showing that the inmates had been indulging in a protracted game of “poker.” The girls who waited on them at table, say they were quiet and polite, and never made any trouble.

Cordova is the next place these “gay cavaliers” turn up, all five of them staying at the same hotel, three occupying one room, and two another with a commercial traveler, W. W. Barlow, of Delavan, Wis., who describes them as polite, jocose fellows. They talked considerably of cattle, and from their language and peculiar dialect, Mr. Barlow thought them to be cattle dealers from the south. They left the hotel at 7 o’clock in the morning, politely raising their hats as they rode off. Cordova is about eighteen miles, almost directly north from Janesville.

The next night, Wednesday, saw these five men housed at Millersburg, about twenty-four miles west and north of Cordova, in Rice county. They left here at an early hour on Tuesday morning, and at about 10 o’clock appeared in the streets of Northfield, which lies about eleven miles north-west of the latter village.

On the same Wednesday evening, four men who answered the description of some of the bandits stopped at a hotel in Cannon City. The landlord thinks they were Bob Younger, Bill Chadwell, and the two men who finally escaped. He says that the next morning, the 7th, while three of the men were at breakfast, one retired to his room and remained a long time with the door locked. After all had departed, the chambermaid discovered a bloody shirt and a portion of a pair of drawers, one leg of the latter being torn off and carried away. The drawers were soiled with blood and matter, such as would come from an old inflamed gun wound, and it was evident that the wearer had such a wound on one of his legs. This is considered evidence that the man arrested in Missouri, in October, and supposed to have been one of the James brothers, was really him, but the alibi proved by that party appears to be sufficient to prove that it was not.

It will be seen by the foregoing that there were originally nine men engaged in the plot, which gives plausibility to the opinion held by many that the terrible tragedy which followed was the result of a plan conceived by some Minnesota desperadoes, who engaged these desperate southern cut-throats to assist in it.

NORTHFIELD

is a thriving, pretty, little village, situated pleasantly upon both banks of the Cannon river just thirty-nine miles from St. Paul, in Rice county, on the St. Paul and Milwaukee railroad. A neat iron bridge unites the northwest and the southeast sides of the town, and just above the bridge is one of the finest mill races in the State, the water in its incessant flow roaring like the ocean and appearing like a minature Niagara. There is a large flouring mill on either side of the river belonging to Messrs. Ames & Co. The public buildings are not surpassed in the State for their beauty of design and adaptability of construction, and the Carlton college is another institution of which the town may well be proud. Placed as it is in the center of a rich farming district, the citizens are considered well-to-do, and the bank transacts a large business.

The five strangers appeared on the streets at an early hour of the morning of September 7th, and attracted a great deal of notice from the citizens, some of them recognizing two of the men as a party who visited the village about a week before, stopping at the Dampier House.

At about 11 o’clock two of these horsemen drew up at Jeft’s restaurant on the northeast side of the river and asked for dinner. Jeft told them he had nothing ready, but could cook them some eggs and ham. The men told him to do so, ordering four eggs each. Their horses were left standing untied at the back of the premises. After ordering their dinner the two men went out into the street and after some time returned, when they were joined by three others and all sat down to their meal. They entered into familiar discourse with the proprietor of the house, and asked him what was the prospect of the forthcoming Presidential election. Jeft’s reply was that he took no interest in politics, when one of the men offered to bet him $1,000 that the State would go Democratic. They still chatted on and seemed to be waiting for some one. At length they left and mounted their horses which were a sorrel, a cream color with silver tail and mane, a black, a bay, and a brown, all fine animals, sleek and clean limbed, and showing indications of blood. After leaving the restaurant, the five horsemen crossed over the bridge, two remaining in bridge square and the other three, riding up to Division street dismounted, and tied their horses to the posts at the side of the Scriver block. They then sauntered up toward bridge square, and after talking for some few moments leaning against a dry goods box in front of Lee & Hitchcock’s store (Scriver block,) they walked back toward the bank which they entered. Three other horsemen then came upon the scene and commenced at once to ride up and down the street in dashing style, and calling upon the citizens who from their doors were watching the eccentric proceeding, to get back into their houses, commenced firing pistols in the air with immense rapidity.

Greater confusion could not be imagined than now ensued. Wherever persons were seen upon the street, a horseman would dash up to them in full speed, and pointing a long barrelled glittering pistol at their heads order them to “get in you G—d—s—of a b.” The streets were cleared in a few moments and stores were closed in quicker time than it takes to tell it.

But though taken at a disadvantage, when many of the men were out at work or away chicken hunting, the scare of the Northfield boys was but momentary. Collecting their perturbed thoughts men rushed about in search of fire arms, but this most necessary desideratum for a successful encounter with a body of desperadoes or madmen, armed to the teeth, was found to be very scarce on

THIS EVENTFUL DAY.

Mr. J. B. Hide, however, succeeded in getting a shot gun with which he blazed away at the marauding scoundrels, or escaped lunatics, for it was not at first exactly understood what the fellows were. Mr. Manning, armed with a breech loading rifle, came coolly upon the field of action, backed by Mr. L. Stacey and Mr. Phillips, while Dr. Wheeler armed himself with an old breech loading carbine and placing himself in a room (No. 8) in the third story of the Dampier House, delivered two very effective shots.

THE BATTLE

was now at its height, and firing was raging in downright earnest.

Manning, from the front of the Scriver block, Bates from the clothing store of Mr. Hanauer, and Wheeler from the window directly over the clothing store, and unobserved by the daring scoundrels, made it lively for the desperate gang, and kept them from passing into Mill Square.

One of the gang was about mounting his horse and while stooping over the pommel of his saddle with his back toward Wheeler, that gentleman took deliberate aim and fired.

The fellow pitched right over his horse falling on his head to the earth where he lay gasping for a few moments and soon was everlastingly still.

Manning in the meantime was not idle, and while Wheeler was searching for another cartridge, he advanced from his retreat and seeing a horseman riding towards him up Division street, he took a steady deliberate aim and fired. The man immediately turned his horse and started off a few paces rapidly, but the horse steadied his pace, the man rocked to and fro, and suddenly the horse stopped and the man fell over to the ground, when another horseman galloped up, sprang from his horse, turned the fallen man over and took from him his pistols and belt, then springing again to his saddle, he rode up the street.

Another scoundrel alighted from his horse and getting behind it commenced a rapid fire down the street, seeing which the intrepid and cool Manning, with all the _nonchalance_ in the world, raised his unerring rifle and stretched the living barricade lifeless at the bandit’s feet. The enraged brigand then ran towards Manning, fearless of the formidable weapon of Bates, and sheltering himself behind some packing cases under the open stairway of Scriver block, he commenced a rapid fusilade, evidently with the intention of keeping Manning from firing up the street at others of the gang.

But Wheeler had succeeded in finding another cartridge and returning to the room from which he delivered his first shot, a young lady, who had remained at the window coolly watching the fight throughout, pointed out to Wheeler the man who was keeping Manning from effectual work.

“Only aim as true as you did before” said

THE BRAVE GIRL

“and there will be one the less to fight” and Wheeler fired.

Instantly the villain dropped his hand upon his thigh, and the girl cried out, “Oh, you aimed too low,” thinking the shot had taken effect in the middle third of the right thigh.

Wheeler at once left the room in search of another cartridge which unluckily he was unable to find. The wounded man who had changed his pistol to the left hand and discharged several shots at Manning, now turned about, and seeing Bates inside his store with a pistol in his hand and thinking it was from this source he had received his wound, as quick as a lightning flash sent a deadly missive at the unsuspecting Bates.

The ball crashed through the intervening glass of the store front, and burnt a scorching track across the victims face from ear to nose.

But during this time a bloody and terrible tragedy was being enacted in the bank.

A scene exhibiting a greater amount of reckless daring, and brutal ferocity; of intrepid courage, and heroic fortitude; ending in a most dastardly, and

APPALLING, SICKENING, TRAGEDY

could not be imagined than the one which was in progress in the bank while the street fight already described was going on.

Just a few moments before the raiders commenced their wild career on the streets, three men rushed into the bank, holding in their hands large pistols, the glittering barrels of which they directed toward the three gentlemen, Messrs. Heywood, Bunker and Wilcox, who occupied the desks behind the counter. Springing over the counter these desperadoes shouted out

“THROW UP YOUR HANDS,”

“we intend to rob the bank.”

“Which is the Cashier?” one demanded, and instantly approaching Heywood, commanded him to open the safe. “I am not the cashier,” was the reply.

The man then turned to Bunker, and made the same demand, but he also denied that he held that important post. The fellow next addressed the bewildered and fear-stricken Wilcox, whose terror prevented him from answering.

The baffled man again turned to Heywood, and with oaths and threats endeavored to make him open the safe.

Heywood replied that he could not, when the scoundrel fired a pistol close to his ear, and said “if he did not at once open the safe he would scatter his brains.”

The brave Heywood still insisted upon his inability to comply.

The ruffian then seized him by the collar and dragging him toward the safe drew out a long, keen edged knife, and posing it over Heywood’s throat, threatened to cut it from ear to ear if he did not at once open the safe.

But the brave man, faithful to his trust, stolidly refused, when the robber released his hold of his collar and went into the safe vault.

Now was the opportunity for the faithful Heywood.

“If I can but get that ponderous door closed,” thought he, “and spring the bolts upon the scoundrel, the”

VILLIANS WILL BE BAFFLED,

“and my integrity saved from suspicion.”

It was a supreme moment of dreadful anxiety to him, and such the intense excitement of his feelings, that when he rushed upon the door to close it, his strength was unequal to the task, and before he could recover himself to renew the effort, a powerful hand seized him by the throat, and threw him back from the vault, at the same time a ruthless arm struck him to the ground with the butt end of a pistol.

Taking advantage of this struggle between Heywood and the robbers, Bunker sprang to his feet and bounded toward the back entrance of the premises.

But before he reached the door a sharp report and the crashing of a ball showed him that he had only miraculously escaped from having his brains scattered by one of the bandits. Bounding out of the bank he ran madly down Water street, not however till another shot from the murderous revolver cranched through his shoulder.

At this point another of the band of ruffians hastily entered the bank and exclaimed:

“Clear boys, the game is up.”

The three men instantly jumped upon the counter and made tracks for the door.

But one man paused in his headlong retreat, and seeing Heywood reaching for his desk, turned round and leveling his revolver at the devoted head of the faithful teller, fired, and without a groan, the brave man fell to the floor,

HIS LIFE BLOOD STAINING THE DESK

and seat with its crimson stream.

In the street the baffled and retreating murderers sought their horses and vaulting into their saddles they were soon rushing with frantic haste out of town westward.

It was some few moments before the citizens could sufficiently recover themselves to take in thoroughly the entire situation.

There lay in the open street a few paces from the bank entrance a bandit in all the hideous ghastliness of a bloody death. A few feet from him was stretched the lifeless body of a noble horse, while further down the street on the opposite side another grim corpse lay in a pool of seething gore.

Windows in all directions were shattered, and door posts showed scars of imbedded bullets.

Reluctantly the assembled citizens approached the bank, and the sight which there met their horror stricken gaze caused a thrill of indignation to seize upon every nerve; and strong men turned pale as they clinched their fists and set their teeth, registering an inward oath to wreak vengeance upon the miscreant perpetrators of the dastardly outrage.

There lay poor Heywood! the man who dared death and defied three of the most notorious scoundrels who ever “cracked a crib” or broke a scull, who resisted torture, and finally gave his life blood in defense of his trust.

Who was the man to carry the appalling news to the young wife and tell her that he, upon whom hung her very life, had left her for all time—that he had been torn from her and hurled into dread eternity by the ruthless hand of the bloody assassin!

Who was stout enough to bear the gore covered mangled corpse to the new desolate and grief stricken home!

But there were those who were willing to pursue the

RED HANDED MURDERERS.

Some overcome with indignation, impetuously prepared for the chase, but others, perhaps more determined men, who were willing to follow on to the very death, were not so hasty in their departure, but as time proved were prepared to pertinaciously follow up the trial with the tenacity of the bloodhound.

Two of the former, Davis and Hayes, immediately sought for horses and none being so ready as those of the two dead robbers, seized them, sprang into the saddles, and were soon in hot pursuit.

Both men were well armed with rifles—one an eighteen shot Winchester with globe sight. At every point they heard of the retreating villians upon whom they were gaining rapidly. Dashing through Dundas, Hayes and Davis kept up the pursuit till at last they saw a group of horsemen surrounding a wagon from which they were apparently taking the horses. As the pursuers advanced one of the horsemen turned from the wagon, and advancing a few steps up the road ordered the pursuing men to halt.

Davis and Hayes instinctively obeyed, and strange to relate, these two men who had been so impatient to commence the pursuit, now that they were confronted by the audacious scoundrels found their courage waning, and they halted.

Nor did they again find their courage return, but they sat there and saw the marauders after securing one of the farmer’s horses again boldly dash away.

After the robbers had gone, Davis and Hayes leisurely wended their way to Millersburg where they awaited the coming of the other pursuers, two men standing but little chance against six such desperadoes.

It is true that Davis and Hayes had the advantage of the bandits in arms, but it is doubtful after all, if there are many men to be found who would have done differently, confronted as they were by six stalwart fierce knights of the road well armed and unscrupulous in shedding human blood, as they had shown at Northfield.

After the departure of Davis and Hayes, about thirty citizens organized into a pursuing party, some mounted on horses, others were carried in wagons and buggies, and all set out in full speed along the road the robbers had taken.

Meantime the

TELEGRAPH WAS SET AT WORK,

and messages were sent to all points. Unfortunately the operator at Dundas was not in his office, and although the call was repeated for an hour no response was made. Had this gentleman been at his post, the people of Dundas would have been prepared to receive the bandits on their arrival.

It has been expressed as a wonder by many that the gang, before making the raid, did not cut the telegraph wires, but it appears from the confession of one of them, that their plan was a much better one. They intended to have destroyed the telegraph instruments before leaving, only the unexpectedly hot attack which was made upon them by the plucky boys of Northfield, completely demoralized them.

The first indication received at St. Paul of the daring raid, was from the following telegram to Mayor Maxfield:

“Eight armed men attacked the bank at two o’clock. Fight on street between robbers and citizens. Cashier killed and teller wounded. Send us arms and men to chase robbers.”

JOHN T. AMES.

This telegram reached St. Paul at about 3 p. m. The first train leaving the city for the scene of hostilities at 4 p. m., was the Owatonna Accommodation, on the Milwaukee & St. Paul road. From St. Paul were dispatched, Chief of Police King, detective Brissette, officers Brosseau and Clark, and Deputy Sheriff Harrison. At Mendota Junction, the party was joined by Mr. Brackett and posse of police, consisting of Capt. Hoy, A. S. Munger, F. C. Shepherd, J. W. Hankinson and J. West, of Minneapolis, all well armed with seven shooters and rifles. At Rosemount, Farmington and Castle Rock, the excitement was immense, many persons at these points getting on the cars and proceeding to Northfield.

The train arrived at the scene of the most daring crime ever perpetrated in the State at 6:20, the whole platform being crowded with an excited populace.

THE DEAD BANDITS.

The police were at once led by the sheriff to an empty store where were lying the inanimate and ghastly forms of the two bandits who had been shot down by the intrepid Northfield citizens. One was found to be six feet four and a half inches in height; his body exhibited a splendid physical development, with arms and limbs of thewy muscles and skin as fair and soft as a lady’s; his face was of rather an elongated oval with sharply cut features; high cheek bones, well arched brow and deep-set blue eyes. His hair was a very dark, reddish auburn, inclined to curl. He wore no hair on his face, but was closely shaved, and did not appear to be more than 23 or 25 years of age. He was clothed in a new suit of black clothes, worth about $25 or $30, a new colored shirt and good boots. The ball which brought him down entered about three inches, in a line with the left nipple and toward the center of the chest and completely riddling the man, passed out on the same side beneath the shoulder blade. On his person was found the card of the Nicollet House livery stable, St. Peter, on which is printed the distances of the principal cities in this part of the State. He had also on him an advertisement of Hall’s safes cut from a local paper. His pockets were well filled with cartridges, and he had round his waist, beneath his coat, a cartridge belt. There has been some dispute as to the identity of the man, but it is now pretty well settled that he is Bill Chadwell _alias_ Bill Styles.

IDENTIFICATION.

There were two men from Cannon Falls, who came to view the bodies before the interment, with the expectation of identifying one of the latter as a brother-in-law of one of the two. He said if it was his relative, a bullet scar would be found under the left arm. The scar was there, but the man would not say whether the fellow was his relation or not. The man whom the big fellow was thought to be, is

[BILL STYLES.]

BILL STYLES.

BILL STYLES,

a former resident of Minneapolis, who has a brother-in-law still living there. This Styles left for Texas some time ago. It is said he was a desperately bad man. It is told that his sister received a letter from him a short time before, saying that now he had lucrative employment, and if she wanted money he would send her some. He also wrote in his letter that he would shortly be up this way, and would call on her. This sister was adopted by a minister residing at Cannon Falls. A letter recently received from the father of Styles proves beyond doubt the identity of the man. Styles’ father now lives at Grand Forks, D. T., and says that his son has for some time lived in Texas. The father expresses no surprise at the untimely end of his son, and says he was always a wild wayward boy with whom he could do nothing.

CLELL MILLER.

[CLELL MILLER.]

CLELL MILLER.

The other man was five feet eight inches in height, but much stouter built than the taller, with hair of the exact color, and like his inclined to curl. His face was rounder and covered with about two weeks growth of beard; the eyes, like the other’s were blue.

The clothing was quite new, even to the shirt, which appeared to have been put on that day. He also wore a white linen collar (new) and a white linen handkerchief round his neck. On his feet were striped half hose and good boots, but of different make, one boot being finer and lighter than the other.

Gold sleeve buttons, gold pin and gold or filled case watch and chain, with linen ulster duster and new felt hat of fine quality, “John Hancock” make, completed his costume.

Beneath his clothing he wore a money belt of leather, but it was empty. About a dollar and fifty cents had been taken from the two men, but Chief King, in researching this fellow, found four dollars more. The wound was an ugly, jagged bullet hole, very large, and with the edges much torn, toward the center of the chest and about four inches below the heart. There were also several small shot wounds on the body of this one and three on the forehead; his hat was also riddled with shot, and it was evident that he had been hit twice from a shot gun, for several of the shot wounds were in the back. From photographs sent to the St. Louis police, the man was at once recognized as Clell Miller.

SCENE OF THE BLOODY ENCOUNTER

The empty store in which the two corpses lay, is on Mill Square, which is immediately over on the south side of the handsome iron bridge which spans the Cannon river just below the mill race. On the north side of the square is the flouring mill of Ames & Co. On the west is Scriver’s block and two or three small stores, among them that in which the bodies lay. On the east side is the office of the Rice County _Journal_ and a wagon shop, and on the south is the Dampier House, under which are three stores, the last eastward and just opposite the corner of the Scriver block, is the clothing store of Mr. Hanauer. The Scriver block has also a frontage of 80 feet on Division street, 22 feet of which is occupied by the First National Bank of Northfield, in which one of the saddest and most daring tragedies was perpetrated—the heartless and deliberate murder of a faithful and brave man in the defense of the valuable property under his charge.

There are some four or five wooden buildings below the bank on Fourth street, and it was in this narrow space, from Mill Square to Fourth street, that the great fight which startled the whole country took place. Many indications of the fearful contest in bullet holes were found in every direction. Windows were pierced and shattered and balls must have been thrown around for a time as thick as hail, for the whole encounter took place within the short space of fifteen minutes. The conflict was a sharp and bloody one, and speaks volumes for the coolness and intrepidity of the citizens of the little provincial town.

From Mr. Bates, who took a prominent part in the encounter, the following was learned:

He said at about 11 o’clock his attention was called to four men who came from over the river. They came over the bridge and were mounted on four splendid horses. The men were well dressed, and Mr. Bates says, four nobler looking fellows he never saw; but there was a _reckless, bold swagger_ about them that seemed to indicate that they would be rough and dangerous fellows to handle. Altogether he did not like the looks of them.

Again, at about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, as he was standing at the entrance of the store, talking to Mr. C. C. Waldo, commercial traveler from Council Bluffs, he saw the same men ride past—three came up the street from mill square and one down, street meeting within thirty feet of the bank. They dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching posts and two, he thought, went into the bank and two came down to the staircase leading up into the upper stories of Lee & Hitchcock’s buildings, and here they stood leaning against the banisters talking. Commenting upon their fine physique, and upon their unusually good mounts, Mr. Bates and Mr. Waldo withdrew to the far end of the store to look over some sample trusses.

They had not long been so occupied when they heard several shots fired in rapid succession, and the thought flashed upon the mind of Bates at once, that the bank was in danger—Mr. Waldo stating that he cried out:

“Those men are going for the town, they mean to rob the bank.” Mr. Bates, however, does not recollect saying anything, he became so excited. He remembers, though, rushing to the door, and seeing some men riding up from the bank—they came riding towards him with long pistols in their hands and called out, “Get in there you son of a b——.”

Mr. Bates at once seized a shotgun and ran back to the door, but the gun would not go off. He then put down the gun and seized a fine seven shooter which was _not_ loaded, and as the men came down again, (they were riding to and fro, evidently intent upon keeping people from going towards the bank), he standing behind the door jambs, called out.

“Now, I’ve got you.” And pointed the empty pistol as if drawing a bead on them.

They turned their horses suddenly and fired at Mr. Bates, the ball crashing through the plate glass. There were other men at the bank firing down the street. The next he saw was Mr. J. S. Allen running down the street from the bank, and two shots were fired at him.

Mr. Manning, of Mill Square, whose store is adjoining the block in which the bank is, next came upon the scene. He ran out of his store with a breech loading repeating rifle, and took a deliberate aim and fired from the corner, Mr. Bates calling out:

“Jump back now, or they’ll get you.”

Next Mr. J. B. Hide came up with a double-barrelled shot gun and discharged the two barrels, and retired to re-load. Mr. Phillips also took a turn at the scoundrels, and L. Stacy delivered a cool, deliberate aim. Mr. Bates next heard a report over his head and saw one of the desperadoes fall from his horse. The horse made a faltering plunge forward and then suddenly stopped and the man pitched over with his face to the ground and in a few moments was dead. This shot was fired by Henry Wheeler from an old carbine from out one of the windows of the Dampier House.

Mr. Manning was still firing, and as he crept to the corner Mr. Waldo called out:

“Take good aim before you fire.” Immediately after this shot one of the horses started up the street and the rider began to reel and swing to and fro and suddenly fell to the ground just opposite Eldridge’s store. Another horseman immediately rode up, dismounted, and spoke to the prostrate man, who was stretched out at full length, supporting himself on his outstretched arms, when he rolled over on his back. Then the other man took from him his cartridge belt and two pistols, and, remounting his horse, rode off.

Another horseman, finding Mr. Manning’s fire too hot, dismounted from his horse and got on the opposite side of it for protection, when an unerring ball from the breech loader brought the horse down, the man running behind some boxes which were piled beneath the stair-case before mentioned, and now ensued a

LIVELY FUSILADE

between this fellow and Manning, the scoundrel keeping himself well under cover, but a ball from Wheeler’s musket struck the fellow in the leg, half way above the knee.

He at once changed his pistol to the left hand and grasped the wounded limb with the right, still trying to get at Manning. Finding himself getting weak, he turned and limped off up the street, but, seeing Bates with a pistol in his hand, he sent a ball whizzing toward that gentleman, grazing the side of his cheek and the bridge of his nose, and burying itself in a collar-box in the store.

Mr. Bates says he feels the ring of that ball in his ear still, and the ball, he says, he will ever keep as a souvenir of the hottest day Northfield ever saw.

The man limped away, and when he got opposite to Mr. Morris’ store, he cried out to his retreating companions, “My God, boys, you are not going to leave—I am shot!”

One of the party, riding a sorrel horse with a light tail and mane, turned and took the wounded man up behind him.

MR. F. WILCOX’S STATEMENT.

Mr. Wilcox, the teller of the bank, stated that he, in company with Mr. Heywood and A. E. Bunker, were in the bank at about 2 o’clock, when three well dressed, powerful looking men entered by the door, which was open. They held large revolvers in their hands, and one of them cried out: “Throw up your hands, for we intend to rob the bank, and if you halloo, we will”

BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT.

They then asked which was the cashier, to which Mr. Heywood replied, “He is not in.” They then sprang over the counter and demanded the safe to be opened. Addressing each in turn they said: “You are the cashier,” which each denied.

Seeing Heywood seated at the cashier’s desk, one of the ruffians went up to him with his long, narrow-barrelled pistol and said:

“You are the cashier; now open the safe, you —— —— son of a ——.” Mr. Heywood said:

“It is a time-lock and cannot be opened now.” One of the men then went into the vault, the door being open. Heywood at once sprang forward and closed the door of the vault, shutting the robber in, when another of the men seized Heywood by the collar and dragged him away from the door and released the incarcerated robber.

The man who came out of the vault—a slim, dark complexioned man, with a black moustache, then called to the others to seize the silver which was lying loose (about $15) and put it in the sack. They did not do this, but seized about twelve dollars in scrip and put it into a two bushel flour sack which they had with them. The dark complexioned man, who appeared to be the leader, then again attacked Heywood, insisting upon his opening the safe, threatening to cut his throat, if he did not, and actually drawing a big knife across his throat.

The heroic and faithful teller, however, was not to be deterred from his duty, and would rather

SACRIFICE HIS LIFE

than betray his trust. Some few moments—it seemed ages to the bewildered and terror-stricken lookers-on—were spent in Heywood’s struggling to break from the murderous villain and gain his liberty.

At length he broke away, and regaining his feet, ran toward the door crying

“MURDER!”

The man at once struck him with a pistol and knocked him down, and, dragging him to the safe door, commanded him to open it. But the intrepid clerk stolidly refused, when the villain shot at him, but did not hit him.

Evidently the shot was intended rather to intimidate him than injure, but the scoundrel had reckoned without his host, for the effect was lost upon Heywood.

But upon the discharge of the pistol Bunker made a start for the back door and ran for dear life, one of the robbers pursuing and firing, the shot taking effect in the shoulder. Bunker, however, reached the street (Water street) and ran to Dr. Coombs’ office.

During the whole of this time four or five men were riding up and down the street, shooting in every direction, and keeping up an incessant fusilade.

One of the men outside came riding up furiously and called for the men to leave the bank.

“THE GAME’S UP.”

he said, “and we are beaten.”

The three men in the bank then sprang over the counter and rushed to the door, and Heywood staggered to the chair, but, as the last one was getting over the counter, with one hand on the cashier’s desk, he turned round and deliberately fired. Heywood fell senseless to the floor! The man then sprang on the rail and out at the front door, and he (Wilcox) cleared out of the back door into Manning’s hardware store.

Wilcox was not sure whether the ruffian struck Heywood when the latter staggered to the cashier’s chair, and he did not stop to see if he was dead when he fell. He said the reason he did not try to get out or help Heywood was that one of the men stood over him with a pistol in his hand.

Mr. Allen said he saw three men cross the bridge and go toward the bank. They were all big, powerful men, well dressed. One had sandy side-whiskers, shaved chin and blue eyes. Another, wore a black mustache, and was a slight but tall man, and better dressed than the others. The third man was heavy set, with curly brown hair, and beard of about one week’s growth. They had tied their horses and talked a while, when another came up, and he went into the bank. Mr. Allen then waited half a minute, and then walked up to the bank to see what was up.

“As I got to the back door,” he says, “one man came out and grabbed me by the collar, and said ‘you son of a——, don’t holler,’ drawing a revolver. I got out and made tracks as fast as I could, two shots feeing fired after me.”

Mr. Ben Henry says that he was first attracted to the strangers by seeing the horses tied, and he went up to one and was examining the saddle, when one of the men came up and said,

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking at this saddle,” was the reply “I want an article like that, and thought perhaps I could strike a bargain with the owner.”

Drawing a pistol, the fellow cried out:

“Now you git’” And he _did_ “git,” but as he walked away a bullet came hissing by his head and struck a wall close by. Henry deliberately picked up the ball and put it in his pocket, but made long strides for home.

It appeared that the object of the men on the street was at first only to keep people back from the bank, and not a desire to murder indiscriminately, but when they found that the Northfield people would not scare worth a cent, and that real work was before them, they showed all the

SAVAGE BLOODTHIRSTY PROPENSITY

of their nature, and wherever a face showed itself, whether it was man, woman or child, the robbers fired murderously at it, crashing in windows in a lively style.

Early Friday morning it was reported in Northfield that Brissette and Hoy had joined their forces at Morristown and had a hot encounter with the gang, which had been reinforced by three others. The police succeeded in killing one man and capturing the wounded man carried from Northfield. The robbers then took to the woods and the police held them there. This report was proved at a later date to be a complete fabrication, but so excited were the people that every rumor received credence and grew in dimensions as it was handed round by the busy throng of news seekers.

THE BANK,

It is in a small apartment, about 20 by 50 feet, situate in the Scriver block, folding doors in the center of the front opening into Division street. It has a counter three feet high, running across to within three feet of the west wall, and going back the whole length of the building. This counter is mounted by a thirty inch glazed rail, leaving a space of two feet in front, where the men jumped over, scratching the counter with their boots. Inside of the center is the safe vault fitted with the Detroit Safe Company’s doors, and to the left is the cashier’s chair where poor Heywood fell a victim to the assassin’s hand. A blotting pad lay upon the desk stained with the life-blood of the murdered man.

HEYWOOD’S DEATH WOUND.

Poor Heywood was shot through the head, the ball entering at the right temple and passing downward and inward, scattering his brains all about, and doubtless depriving him instantaneously of consciousness, and putting him completely beyond all suffering, although he breathed for about twenty minutes, but did not speak. In addition to the bullet wound, there was a slight scratch in the right side of the neck as from a knife.

[BREAKING THE NEWS TO MRS. HEYWOOD.]

BREAKING THE NEWS TO MRS. HEYWOOD.

Mr. E. E. Bunker was not considered dangerously wounded, the ball passing in at the back of the right shoulder, below the point of the shoulder, passing downward and forward and upward, coming out just above the clavicle, making only a severe flesh wound. This wound, however, was very nearly being a fatal one, as the ball passed close to a principal artery, which no doubt, had it been severed by the deadly missive, would have produced death by hemorrhage.

Since the capture at Madelia of the Younger boys, Mr. Bunker has given his recollections of the bank raid, and as it differs in several points from others already given, we embody it in this narrative. It will be seen that the narrative recognizes two of the men who entered the bank as Charley Pitts and Bob Younger.

MR. E. E. BUNKER’S STORY.

Mr. Bunker said that himself, Mr. Heywood and Mr. Wilcox were sitting at their respective desks, when they heard a heavy rush from the bank door to the counter. They turned round and saw three men climbing over the counter and with their knees on it and revolvers pointed directly at the three bank officers. A man presumed to be Jesse James, and who acted as leader, called out, “Throw up your hands, we are going to rob the bank.” James then ran across the room and passed Heywood into the vault, which was open, but seeing the safe door closed, turned back from the entrance and seizing Heywood by the collar who, from being older than the others and from the position of his desk, was naturally supposed to be the cashier, ordered him to open the safe, Mr. Heywood said it was a time lock, and it could not be opened. The other said that was a d—d lie.

Charley Pitts then came up on the other side of Heywood and threatened to kill him if he did not immediately open the safe. One of the others called out, “Let’s cut his throat and be done with it.” Heywood commenced shouting murder and repeated the cry three or four times. They then hustled him about, and James struck him on the head with the butt end of his pistol, knocking him down. He was then dragged towards the vault, where he lay with his head partially in the vault. James then drew the knife across Heywood’s neck, who did not say anything, appearing to be partially insensible, when another of them stooped down and fired close to the prostrate man’s head, the ball penetrating a tin box containing papers in the vault.

All this time I was on my knees on the floor, with Bob Younger standing guard over me. I had a revolver under the counter, where I stand, and which was in full view, and I endeavored gradually to edge over and obtain possession of it, but Bob saw the attempt, and seeing the weapon, put it into his pocket, saying, at the same time, that I could do nothing with this, and it was of no use. He then placed it in his pocket and commenced searching me, but did not take anything from me. The pistol was a Smith & Wesson, and we always regarded it as an excellent weapon. Bob having turned his head partially around to see what was going on in the other part of the room, I raised my head with the view of giving the alarm to any one I saw in the street, but my movements were quickly observed by Bob who pulled me down, saying at the same time, that I had better keep quiet for, if I attempted to rise again he would kill me. He then inquired where was the cashier’s till, and I pointed to a box containing some nickels and scrip, the former done up in cartridges. He seemed to know very well there was more loose money than that, and he told me he would kill me if I did not show him the till. I did not answer him, and he pulled out a drawer containing stationery, but the drawer having some $2,000 he did not open, supposing, probably, that in its contents were the same.

Meantime, while the two men were engaged with Heywood, James told Bob Younger to bring out the sack. Bob took out a green bag and thrust a handful of scrip into it, but did not take any of the nickels.

The distance from where I was to the rear of the bank, is about 25 feet, and the rear door of the two hardware stores adjoin the rear door of the bank. I thought if I could make my way out in this direction, I would have a chance of giving the alarm, so that the citizens would come to the rescue. In making this movement, I should have to pass where Mr. Wilcox was sitting, and I made a slight motion for him to move so that I could get past. He saw my motion and shifted his position. The man who stood over me having his attention directed to the proceedings of the others, I started, but was immediately followed by Charley Pitts, who fired at me, the ball going through the blinds of the door and lodging in a brick chimney, but not striking me. There was a stairway leading down, and Pitts standing on top of that, fired down on me, I having reached the bottom at the time, fired again, the ball just striking me below the scapula, passing through the thin portion of it, and down, passing out about half an inch below the collar bone, the course traversed being about seven inches, and narrowly missing the sub-claviel artery, where the wound would have been fatal.

I think it was James that said, while keeping us down, “don’t one of you move; we have fifty men on the street, and you will be killed if you move.” The safe was not locked at all, but there was only about $15,000 in it, which they might easily have secured.

Mr. Bunker said he recognized the body killed at Madelia, as that of Charley Pitts, and also identified Bob Younger, by the likeness published herein.

NICHOLAS GUSTAVSON.