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.