The Murder of John Smith

By Kit Zinser

The slate gray skies and icy air of January and February 2004 did little for mindful activity.  However, while perusing articles for the Washington Historical Newsletter, I picked up a January 1938 edition of the Washington Reporter.  I was lost in the comforting and familiar news stories, and then I happened on a darker, more puzzling story that hauntingly held my attention. The headlines read: “John Smith, Timber Worker, Robbed and Murdered in his Cabin on Monday.”  The Foster property at 1808 Foster Road, south of Washington, and Cummings farm at the south end of Cummings Lane link up deep in the woods behind both farms.  Thinking about how to glean more information, I found the perfect excuse to have a quiet dinner party with Fred Foster and a few childhood friends. With spirits warming our tongues, stories flowed about the boys’ lives on the farm near the creek and thick woods. Finally, John Smith held our attention. Portions of the WHS newsletter, a newspaper article, and Fred’s father’s recollections are below. 

1938 article: John Smith, approximately 53 years of age, worked for John Anderson of Eureka and the past three or four years at a sawmill near the Foster and Cummings farms.  He made mine props because all the good logs had been taken out, and he lived in a small shack near the railroad tracks.  Jesse Ales and his son also worked at the Anderson sawmill and resided about 500 feet northwest of the Smith cabin.

On the day of the murder, Mr. Anderson drove over to Foster’s farm and asked Mr. Foster to give John Smith $10.00 when he came up for a noon meal.  Anderson also told a few workers that he left $10.00 and to remind Smith to pick it up.  Foster agreed and later handed Smith his money.  Smith returned to work near his cabin until at least 5:30 p.m., when he returned home for a simple dinner of beans, biscuits, a hunk of bacon, and coffee.  As custom dictated, Ales and his son normally walked over to Smith’s cabin after dinner for a smoke and to chew the fat about the day’s work.  While eating, around 6:25 p.m., Ales said he heard a gunshot but paid little attention.  Later, Ales and his son walked over to Smith’s shack.  They called out.  “Shorty?” No reply.  At the same time, Ales thought he heard the sound of someone leaving through another door.  Walking up to the window, they spied Smith slumped over the table with pooled blood beneath his chair.  They raced back home to get overshoes and then ran to the Cummings property to summon help.

At this point, Fred said his father received a call from the sheriff to go out and check on a “shooting.”  Mr. Foster wondered why he had been called; nonetheless, he hiked into the darkness.   Fred’s dad met a stranger near the shack and asked, “Who are you?”  The man quickly left.  Mr. Foster corroborated the circumstances in the cabin and later telephoned the sheriff, verifying Ales’ information.  When police arrived on the scene, they determined Smith had been killed instantly.

1938 article: The bullet came from the North, went through the screen, window pane, and into Smith, exiting and lodging in his alarm clock…stopping it at 6:05 p.m.  Ales fixed the time of the shot he heard at 6:25 p.m. but Smith for some reason “ran his clock slow.”  The furnishings were not disturbed. The only thing out of place was that the bed cover and pillow had been tossed back.  The $10.00 was gone.  Last September, Smith had been robbed of $40.00 hidden in the same spot.  Back then, Smith may have seen the thief, and perhaps the robber came back to kill Smith.  We do know the killer missed some money. In an obscure pocket of his overalls, Smith had stashed a small coin purse with $80.00 wrapped in newspaper.  Had Smith set a trap?

The body was removed to Habecker Funeral Home, and Dr. E.C. Burhans performed an autopsy.  Burial was in Glendale Cemetery. An inquest was scheduled.

John Smith, a native of Czechoslovakia, worked for years in the timber. He stated his only living relative, his mother, died in 1918. Something was mentioned about a sister, and he may have married a woman from Peoria, but nothing was confirmed.  However, his name wasn’t really John Smith – it was John Walinski.  In the bone-chilling blackness of the winter woods, John, a thrifty laborer who kept to himself, lost his life for a mere $10.00.  His killer was never caught.