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HomeMy Public PortalAboutIdaho History: Crimesinnkeeper avenged death of his friend by finding killers "Murder is becoming a mere pastime in Idaho territory, and it is about time something was done toward putting a stop to it," observed the Idaho Tri- weekly Statesman in June of 1870. The death of territorial Con- gressman E. D. Holbrook in a shoot-out on the streets of Idaho City was the immediate reason for the Statesman's concern about violent crime, but there were plenty of other reasons. In another 1870 editorial, Judge Milton Kelly wrote that "we have consulted reliable au- thorities and find that since the organization of the territory up- wards of one hundred persons have been killed by the hands of others; and during the same pe- riod a larger number of shooting and stabbing affrays have taken place. "Of this number, so far as we can learn, only five legal execu- tions have taken place." The first of these "legal ex- ecutions" was a famous one. On March 4, 1864, at Lewiston, James Romaine, Daniel Howard and Christopher Lowry were hanged for the brutal pre- meditated murder of well-known pack -train operator Lloyd Ma- gruder and 4 other men. The murderers had ingratiated themselves with the Magruder party while on the way to Vir- ginia City, then in Idaho but now in Montana. Waiting for Magruder to sell his cargo of supplies and in order to get the gold dust he received Idaho Yesterdays By Arthur Hart in exchange, Lowry, Romaine and Howard offered to accom- pany the packers back to Lewis- ton to help guard the gold against robbers. Lowry killed Magruder with an ax while he slept and then helped his companions kill the other 4. The bodies were dumped over a cliff, and all but a few of the pack animals were killedras well. Hill Beachy, a famous stage- coach and hotel operator in Lew- iston, was a good friend of Lloyd Magruder. He had dreamed of seeing Magruder murdered in the mountains, and when the suspicious -acting Murderers ar- rived in Lewiston, Beachy set out on his own to investigate. When he retraced the Lowry party's trail, he found Magrud- er's saddle and other evidence to confirm his suspicions. Although the murderers had succeeded in taking the stolen gold dust to Portland and on to San Francisco by ship, they could not escape the relentless Beachy, out to avenge his friend. He had himself sworn in as a deputy sheriff, secured a war- rant for the arrest of the fugi- tives and tracked them to San Francisco, where they were Hill Beachy waiting for the. stolen gold dust to be coined at the U. S. Mint. Beachy made the arrest and brought Howard, Lowry and Ro- maine back to Lewiston in De- cember. Also arrested was Wil- liam Page, who had only accom- panied the murderers under du- ress. Page testified to all that had happened, clinching the case for the prosecution when the first term of the District Court to be held in Idaho convened at Lewis- ton on January 5, 1864. Eight weeks later, the 3 murderers were hanged. Next of the 5 legal executions referred to by Judge Kelly did not take place until 1867, when a white 'man named McBride was hanged for murdering a Chi- nese; the 5th took place on Dec. 10, 1869, at Idaho City when Sim Walters died for the murder of Joseph L. Bacon. Bad Man Patterson, Ruthless Killer, Dies, Victim of Dramatic Oregon Shotgun Slaying Among the interesting tales re- corded of Idaho bad men is the story of Ferd Patterson, trigger- ! happy character who three times evaded legal punishment for ma- jor crimes, only to meet his death at the hrnds of a policeman to whom he had vowed vengeance for an earlier arrest. According to Hawley's History of Idaho, Patterson was the worst desperado in the Boise basin. A tall, well -set-up man of 200 pounds, Patterson, about 40 years of age, was always well groomed and well dressed, his sandy hair and beard setting off a handsome counte- nance, and with a manner "when he chose to conceal his naturally brutal instincts," well calculated "to win the liking of men and the affections of women." Arrived in 1861 When Patterson arrived in the Boise basin during the winter of 1861, he immediately became an outstanding figure among the worst elements of the several camps of the basin. The sheriff of Boise county was Sumner Pink - ham, also a perfect physical speci- ment, but Pinkham served as sher- iff for about six months, making an enviable reputation as a brave and capable officer, but, as he was a Republican and the Democrats were in a large majority, he was defeated at an election held in 1863, at a tithe when Patterson was undisputed leader of the basin underworld. Patterson conceived a violent hatred for Pinkham. At that time he was a constant frequenter of a bathing resort a little over a mile below Idaho City, at Warm Springs. As there was a bar con- nected with the resort, Patterson spent much of his time with his foot on the rail. Shoots Pinkham On a fall day in 1865, Pinkham, with a friend, rode down to the springs to enjoy a bath. Patterson was there with a party of friends and was, as usual, full of whiskey. He at once addressed an insulting remark to Pinkham, who being fa- miliar with Patterson's methods and knowing he had no chance of winning a contest where his ene- my was surrounded by f r i e n d s ready to assist him, simply said, "That's all right, Patterson," and passed on into a bathroom. Some time elapsed, Patterson having in the meanwhile gone into the swimming pool, but upon com- ing out he went upon the porch of the establishment and seeing Pinkham there, again made an insulting remark, at the same time raising his pistol and shooting Pinkham dead. He then proceeded to the jail and surrendered him- self. Excitement Grows This causedintense excitement throughout the basin and a vigi- lance committee was formed with the avowed purpose of taking Pat- terson from the custody of the sheriff and hanging him. Wiser counsel prevailed, however, and that matter was dropped. A term of court was held soon afterwards and Patterson was tried and ac- quitted on the grounds of self- defense. This was the third time that Patterson had evaded the law. In the Cosmopolitan hotel in Portland he shot and killed Captain Staples, commander of a steamer on which he had voyaged from San Francis- co, and he also was embroiled with the law at Portland when he tried to cut the hair from a woman's head and scalped her by mistake. On both of these counts he was acquitted, but he remembered the policeman who had arrested him in Portland for the latter crime, and swore that he would kill him. After being acquitted for the Pinkham slaying, Patterson real- ized that the basin area was too hot for him, and fled to Walla Walla. But his policeman -enemy was also at Walla Walla. Hearing of Patterson's arrival in town, the policeman obtained a double-barreled shotgun and pro- ceeding to a barber shop where Patterson was being shaved, gave him the same treatment he so oft- en accorded to others, and fired both barrels at close range, caus- ing Patterson's instant death. Bootleggers, moonshiners thrived during Prohibition The words "prohibition" and "bootlegging" are seldom heard in Idaho today, but 70 years ago they were part of everyday con- versation and concern. Congress enacted in December 1917, and three -fourths of the states ratified by. January 1919, the 18th Amend- ment to the U.S. Constitution, making the manufacture, sale, possession or use of alcoholic bev- erages illegal. Prohibition took effect in January 1920. Idaho had anticipated the na- tional action by going "dry" in 1916, and had enacted a local op- tion law as early as 1909 by which individual counties could choose prohibition if they wanted it. (Ada County nearly voted to go "dry" in 1912, but stayed "wet" by Arthur Hart Idaho history a narrow margin). "The noble experiment," as President Herbert Hoover called it, proved to have very different effects than its supporters had hoped. In some places, for every saloon that was closed two illegal outlets or "speakeasies" opened. Also, many thousands of Americans be- gan to make their own "moon- shine," often with wretched, and sometimes fatal, results. Idaho had gradually changed over the years from a frontier territory with wide open mining \ camps and cow towns to a more IL conservative agricultural, family and church -oriented society con- cerned with reform. The alcohol -induced rowdyism and violence of earlier days was viewed as a stage through which society had passed on its way to- ward civilization. Although a majority of Idaho voters wanted prohibition, a large minority was not willing to give pp liquor, as local and federal court records show. Just a year after federal prohi- bition went into effect there were 25 arrests for drunkenness in one month in Boise alone, and in U.S. District Court it was not unusual for the entire docket to be taken up with liquor violations of one kind or another. A Statesman feature writer in a December 1928 article described the local liquor traffic at length. He said prices for bootleg booze were "steady" and that service was good. "The bootlegging business in Boise and southern Idaho gener- ally lacks some of the frills and fancies of the eastern methods; there are no mysterious rendez- vous, no secret tokens, no blind telephone numbers, no `master minds.' The man who wants a drink calls up one of the group engaged in the traffic, and shortly afterward a honking automobile horn informs him the delivery truck awaits without. He pays his money and takes delivery." Nearly all of the illegal moon- shine available to Boise valley residents in the 1920s came from the nearby mountains, according to the reporter. "If you hanker for `white mule,' the kind that makes the rabbit want to fight the bulldog, you may get it as low as $7.50 a gal- lon, and you may wish you hadn't. Other grades of moonshine sell at from $10 to $15 a gallon, the price differential frequently being de- cided by the caprice of the opera- tor rather than any difference in cost or quality." Bonded liquor from Canada cost $12 a quart in 1928, and was much harder to get. The bootleg- gers ran high risks, not only of being caught by federal agents, but of being hijacked by armed robbers along the lonely moun- tain roads they traveled by night. Most, it was reported, gave up their cargoes philosophically, considering it was better to lose the booze than their lives. Arthur Hart is director emeritus of the Idaho Historical Society. His column appears Monday.