SKETCH XVIII
NORFOLK’S GALLOWS
Since “Glorious Old Norfolk” has had a court jurisdiction of her own, she has never been obliged to perform the solemn duty of hanging any of her incorrigible and blood-thirsty citizens. That such have lived within her borders may be quite possible; but the fact that there has been no occasion for “springing the trap” on any of them, is something for which our county is to be congratulated.
That a gallows was once erected during the Court-house times of old Vittoria, for the hanging of two horse-thieves, is a little matter of history known to all. Indeed, were it not for the fact that so many conflicting stories have been told and published relating to this affair, the writer would devote but little space to it. Several years ago a highly-sensational account of it was published in a Chicago paper. It was a precious bit of fiction, the writer keeping Ryerson on his knees eighteen hours praying, to kill time, thereby preventing the sheriff from performing his duty until the arrival of the reprieve. The following version of the affair was given by a living eye-witness, who was nearly a man grown at the time. He is well known as a man of veracity, possesses a remarkably good memory, and his description is, no doubt, correct.
He says: “The culprits’ names were Smith and Carr–Smith was an American, Carr was an Irishman. The crime committed was that of horse-stealing. The horse stolen belonged to a settler living near St. Thomas. They were tried and convicted at Vittoria, and sentenced to be hanged on a certain day in September, 1824, at one o’clock in the afternoon.
The gallows was erected near the spot now occupied by the enclosed stairway leading to the front entrance of the Baptist Church. It was made of heavy timbers about ten inches square and in the form of a “bent,” with the posts or upright timbers set in the ground. When the frame was completed and the holes dug, the workmen were unable to raise it. Several spectators were standing about, and Sheriff Rapelje called for help, but no one responded. The Sheriff repeated his request, but in a more peremptory manner, threatening to arrest the bystanders if they did not respond. Dr. Monroe then stepped forward followed by others. It was a heavy lift, being of sufficient dimensions to form a bent in a saw-mill. When the time for execution drew near, a cart drawn by one horse emerged from the jail, bearing the two prisoners, who sat back to back, and the constable, Abraham Havens, who had immediate charge of them. The Sheriff walked in front, and on either side of the cart walked two constables. When the cart came under the horizontal beam it halted, and the Sheriff climbed a ladder and adjusted the ropes. He then took out his watch and announced that the prisoners had fifteen minutes yet to live. Elder Freeman then came forward and offered up a prayer, followed by Dr. Ryerson. After these two prayers were made, the Sheriff again looked at his watch and said that eight minutes yet remained. The prisoners were asked if they had anything to say. Smith said nothing; but Carr spoke a few words that brought tears to the eyes of nearly everyone in that mixed crowd of men, women and children. He warned the young men present never to throw aside the advice and counsel of their parents, and to shun bad company. He told them to take warning from his own sad plight and lead honest, virtuous lives. He said he had been blessed with a praying mother, but he had not given heed to her instructions, and now he was about to suffer the terrible consequences of his neglect.
“Carr must have occupied three minutes of the time, for when he ceased speaking, the Sheriff announced that five minutes yet remained. Immediately after this Dr. Rolph rode up on horseback and handed the Sheriff a sealed packet. The sheriff broke the seal, glanced hastily at the contents, and then ordered the constables to conduct the prisoners to the jail. The document was from the Lieutenant-Governor who had granted a reprieve for three months. Before the time expired it was renewed for another three months, at the end of which time they were pardoned upon condition that they immediately leave the country and never return. When the good news was communicated to the prisoners, Smith took his departure at once, but Carr refused to go. He said he was guilty and deserved punishment, and that he would never be better prepared to die. The next day the poor fellow was forcibly ejected from the jail, and was never hear of after. Smith was a hardened criminal. The very first night after he received his pardon, he stole a horse from Captain Owen, just south of Simcoe, and rode out of the country on it, crossing the river at Fort Erie, about two hours in advance of his pursuers.
“The reprieve was granted in response to a numerously signed petition, and had been in Dr. Rolph’s hands for two or three days preceding the day fixed for execution, but was withheld to the very last moment in order that the ‘example’ might not lose any of its force. William Parke was the jailer at this time.”
As before stated, the above account of this historical event was given by a creditable living eye-witness-in fact, the only person living who remembers all the connecting details. Edward J. Kniffen, the veteran shoemaker, was also an eye-witness, and while he does not remember the particulars, he is quite positive in asserting that no such protracted prayer was made on that occasion as has been described in various newspaper publications.
Among the historical data bearing on this event, is the following item, clipped from an Erie paper. It bears no date and reads as follows:
“Richard Carr, an old Canadian octogenarian, who had lived on this side of the lake for many years, died on Monday last, and was taken to Ontario for interment.”
The Hamilton Daily Spectator, of March 18th, 1884, published an interview with Dr. M. J. Clark, who had met Richard Carr in Pennsylvania. Dr. Clark is a nephew of Dr. John Ryerson, and the interview was published two years after that reverend gentleman’s death.. The following is a skeleton copy of the interview:
“I had no idea that Carr was living, having heard nothing of him for thirty years; I supposed him long since dead. His arrest, conviction, sentence and escape are events closely connected with my family and childhood—my uncle, Rev. John Ryerson, being the clergyman who attended Carr to the scaffold, and prayed against time for the purpose of cheating the hangman.... I was a child at the time, and it happened at Vittoria... about fifty-five years ago.... Carr was a quiet unoffensive young man, and so was Smith, who was condemned to die with him.... One day, I remember well, the village was thrown into great excitement by the discovery of a crime, for which the penalty was death.... Some one had stolen an ox. A diligent search resulted in the discovery of the hide, and suspicion fell upon Carr, who was known to be poor, and in whose house the odor of cooked meat still hung.... The culprits were brought on trial, and a jury of twelve fellow-men found no difficulty in consigning both of them to the scaffold, after the learned judge had expatiated for hours upon the enormity of the crime against God and man.... Among those who were horrified and shocked at the approaching execution were my uncle, the spiritual adviser of the poor fellows, and Dr. John Rolph, whose memory still clings to the village.... Dr. Rolph was more excited than any other of Smith and Carr’s sympathizers. He determined to ride to Toronto and intercede with the Governor, who I think was Sir John Colborne. Before departing on his hazardous errand of Mercy, Dr. Rolph was closeted with my uncle. The latter subsequently told me that he had agreed to delay the hanging all he could by making the closing prayer as long as his strength and power would permit, provided that Rolph had not returned. Good Dr. Rolph calculated on getting back a few hours before the time set for execution. He set out on the swiftest horse to be had in the village.... The days flew on and the people flocked in from the surrounding country. Uncle John did all he could to comfort the doomed men and lead them to a realization of a greater mercy than man’s, but they refused to be comforted. The fatal morning came, but without any tidings of Dr. Rolph. The hour arrived and the men were led out to die... Smith and Carr were placed in position and when the hangman’s little preliminaries were over, the Sheriff was informed that all was ready for the parson’s final blessing or prayer. The Rev. John Ryerson got down on his knees and began the longest and most remarkable prayer on record. His voice was low, purposely, for he wished to husband his vocal strength. He prayed for about twenty minutes without creating remark, for long prayers were not as distasteful then as now. When he entered upon the second half hour, great restlessness was manifested. The sun poured down on the uncovered heads, and many did not hesitate to say aloud that they were getting too much of a good thing.... The murmurs rose higher and higher, but uncle prayed on and on without ceasing. An hour passed and he was still on his knees. There was now no relevancy in his appeal. He uttered merely words and disconnected phrases to consume time. The muscles of his throat contracted, his tongue was dry and clave to his mouth and his voice was husky; but he prayed on, the words falling without meaning on his hearers. He told me later that he did not know what he was saying, and that the only real prayer uttered in all that time was a silent one composed of four words: ‘God hasten Rolph’s footsteps....’ At the end of an hour and a half there was quite an uproar, and the discontent had almost become a riot, when a voice cried: ‘Here comes Dr. Rolph!’ My uncle did not hear or heed the new tumult that now arose, but he prayed on, becoming weaker each moment. Soon the horseman approached near enough to be recognized, and the doctor dashed up to the very foot of the scaffold, scattering people right and left. He was too weak to speak or move, but a man in the crowd, snatching a document from his hand and mounting on the back of a horse, shouted, ‘Reprieve! Reprieve!’ It was so; and this is how Carr and Smith were saved.”
The above version is more reasonable and does not contain as much of the sensational element as many others which have been published.
But there was one man hanged on Norfolk soil. It occurred when Turkey Point was headquarters for the London District. The criminal was a negro, convicted of robbing a store—an act which the law at that time made a felony, publishable by death. The store which was the scene of the robbery, was the second one started in point of time in Long Point Settlement. It was kept by one Cummings, and was located on William Culver’s place-known in modern times as the old Joseph Culver farm, near St. John’s Church, south of Simcoe. After committing the crime, the negro tried to sell some of the stolen goods by peddling them among the settlers. The goods were easily identified, and this led to his arrest. He was tried, convicted and sentenced to be hanged, but before the day for execution arrived, he broke jail and escaped. Sheriff Bostwick offered a reward of $50 for his apprehension. A man named Robert Wood caught him in the cedars on Turkey Point, by first breaking his arm with a rifle shot. The sentence was suspended until he recovered from the effects of the wound. Joseph Kitchen was sergeant of the prison guards at Fort Norfolk at the time of this hanging. He saw the negro put into his coffin, and reported that he was alive when put there; and it was his opinion that complete consciousness would have resulted, if the men charged with the duty of burying the body had performed their duty with less precipitation.
A story has been told and, in fact, published from one end of the country to the other, pertaining to the hanging of this negro, which may or may not be true. It is a good story and will bear repeating in connection with this sketch.
The man who was Sheriff of the old London District at this time was endowed, it is said, with a sporting nature which caused him to quite overlook the proper dignities of his office, and came near to subjecting him to an official decapitation. It is said this negro was to have been hanged on a Thursday, and that the week before, the Sheriff had received notice from a number of his distant sporting friends that they would be up to Long Point the following week for a few days’ sport. This was jolly news for the gamey Sheriff—but there was the hanging of that “peskey nigger.” How could he arrange that? Well, it is said, he did arrange it with the assistance of the negro himself. He went to his cell and asked him if he would as soon be hanged on Tuesday as on Thursday. “Well, Sheriff,” said the negro,” you have bun so kind to me in de jail dat I don’t want to spile yer sport. You can hang me on Tuesday, but do it early in the mawnin’, just as I wake up.” It is said he was hanged accordingly.