There was a little engine
and one or two coaches as needed on a narrow-gauge railroad, known as the Dummy
Line. It ran from town out by the ballpark and on out the Sixty-Foot Road, or
75-A or Woodlawn Boulevard, and around the Cotton Mill district, back to
town. [Source: Denison TX Sunday Gazetteer, May 22, 1892] During the early part of the night
Tuesday, Denison, in a spectral or bird-eye-view sense, presented a beautiful
picture. The skies were cloudless, the streets neither dusty nor muddy; peace
and happiness seemed vouchsafed to all, and in a social sense the town was
really merry. The North Methodist congregation, with a large number of
spectators, were participating in a literary competition under the auspices of
the Knights Templars; the Lodge of Elks, fifty-one strong, together with some
eighteen or twenty visiting members, were at the Denison club rooms busily
engaged in the reception of members and the organization of the order. This picture, however, was too
pretty to last long. In the very midst of pleasure, innocent and instructive
though it be, the dark and dismal shadow of death and destruction perched about
the portals and lintels of the city and within the walls where peace, joy, and
prosperity alone are supposed to live, the chilling blast of hell's arch-demons
enters, and strong men quake and tremble with fear. Pleasure is turned to
sorrow, and the feeling of security and confidence goes down before insecurity
and fear. The night will go down to history as one without a parallel in this
day and generation. In the still and quiet hours of the late evening and early
morning, four ladies, two of whom were numbered among the city's most
respectable people, were targets for the assassin's deadly weapon—the
six-shooter or Winchester. The first tragedy was at the
residence of Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Haynes, in south Denison, near the exposition
grounds. Mrs. Haynes is a daughter of Dr. Garner, both of whom moved to this
city a short time since from Stringtown, I.T. The buildings are not more than
fifty or sixty yards apart, and in that neighborhood are quite a number of
families, among whom is W. W. Bostwick. Tuesday evening Mesdames Garner, Haynes,
and Bostwick came in on the motor car to attend the literary exercise at the North
Methodist church, and Mr. Haynes came along to attend the organizing exercises
of the Elks at the Denison club rooms in the State National Bank building. The
ladies returned home on the 10:30 motor. Mrs. Garner and her daughter, Mrs.
Haynes, left the exposition station unaccompanied. On arriving at their
residences, Mrs. Haynes remarked to her mother: "You need not go in with
me. I see the doctor is already here, as a light is burning. We put them all
out when we left." Saying this, the ladies bade each other good night, and
that was the last seen of Mrs. Haynes until two hours later, when her dead body
was found something near a quarter of a mile southeast of the house. Mrs. Garner had barely entered her
house when she heard her daughter scream. She ran out and over as quickly as
possible, and following her was Dr. Garner with his gun. Two lamps were
burning, one up and the other down-stairs, and every room in the house was
badly disarranged. Mrs. Haynes was called, but all was quiet. Every room and
the yard was searched, but no trace of her could be found. Two or three minutes
later three pistol shots were fired in rapid succession. Mr. Garner ran out,
but could not tell from which direction the sound came. Fearing the worst, an alarm
was given. Houston Bostwick mounted the same motor on which the ladies had come
out from the city, and in a few minutes he ran up to the Elks' hall and
informed his father and Mr. Haynes of the circumstances. The work of the lodge
was brought to an abrupt close. Every member volunteered his services, and soon
the motor train was speeding back to the Exposition Hall. On reaching home, Mr. Haynes found
everything in utter confusion, and the wildest excitement prevailed. Couriers
were dispatched back to the city with instructions to get Sheriff McAfee with
his bloodhounds as quickly as possible. The central railway kindly tendered
them use of the yard engine, and a wild ride to and from Sherman followed. In
the meantime, the search for Mrs. Haynes continued. The night was dark, the
timber dense, but dozens of lamps and lanterns glittered in every direction. An
endeavor was made to hold back the search until the arrival of the dogs, in
order that the burglar might the better be traced. It was impossible, however,
to restrain intimate friends, and the search continued. Full two hours after the shooting,
Mr. W. W. Bostwick, with lantern in hand, came upon the body of the lady, cold
in death. The place was from 300 to 400 yards southeast of the Haynes
residence, and near a dry branch. It was a horrible sight. She lay on her back,
and a ball from a .44-caliber revolver had entered her forehead, tearing away
the brain pan and burying itself in the ground. One foot beneath her head was
found the deadly bullet. Another ball had passed through her breast. Her watch,
finger-ring, and ear-rings were gone. In slipping the rings from her fingers
the villain was in such haste that her fingers were badly disfigured. Tender
hands lifted up the body and carried it back to the house. News of the terrible death intensified the excitement. The searching parties were all called in, and nothing more was attempted until the arrival of the sheriff with his deputies and the trained dogs. The special from Sherman came in at 3:20 in the morning, and ten minutes later search for the murderer was instituted. Here we must draw the veil over the horrible scene, for tragedies in other parts of the city are being enacted. Defenseless women are being shot down through screened windows and doors, and a reign of terror is seizing the usually quiet and tranquil city. The Second Shooting At Madame Lester's bagnio [brothel]
on Chestnut Street, a gay crowd had assembled in the three parlors or reception
rooms. One man was thumping away on a piano, the Madame was coaxing a
frequenter to purchase a bottle of beer, girls and men were lounging about the
room in a rather promiscuous manner, and in a wicker chair near the front
center of the third room sat Maude Kramer. To her rear and seated on a sofa
were George Garner and Alice Adams, and standing in front of these was another
woman. All at once and without a note of warning, a flash and a report startled
every one, and then followed a few seconds of hushed stillness. Not a breath
was drawn, not a voice was heard, and no one moved. Then came another clash.
Maude Kramer threw up her hands and called out in a rather low but audible
voice, "I am shot." The wildest confusion followed. Women screamed
and men darted out and behind every conceivable object. Some one made a break
for the rear door, and men and women literally trampled upon one another in the
stampede. The first ball had passed entirely through the right side of Maude
Kramer, then found its way through the arm of the chair, through the clothing
of the woman standing in front of Alice Adams and George Garner, and buried
itself into the opposite wall near the door leading out to the beer chest. The
second shot entered the lady's body near the center on the right side and
passed entirely through the stomach. Its force had been spent, however, and the
ball fell down into the chair, and when the lady was removed it rolled out on
the floor. She was taken to an upper room where medical attention was soon
procured. The house soon filled with an excited crowd of morbidly curious men.
During the excitement, news was received of the tragedy at the Exposition Building
in south Denison. Soon after the shooting at Madame
Lester's, a man with rather heavy mustache, dark clothes, square shoulders, and
a rather striking appearance called at the front door and asked permission to
see the wounded lady. His request was denied, and the man acted very strangely.
He drew out a large pistol from his hip pocket and said: "The wages of sin
is death," and turning to a man nearby said, "You will make a good
target." He spoke at some length on the wickedness of the world and appeared to be a kind of a ministerial crank. On leaving the building he came off toward Main Street, and nothing more was seen of him. He was a stranger to everybody, and by a good many he is thought to be implicated in the assassination.
The Third Shooting A short time after the shooting at
Madame Lester's, someone ran across the block to the Rivers bagnio and informed
the girls there of the tragedy, and all, of course, wanted to go down to see.
In the front east room was a girl, Rosa Stuart, and her company. The lamp was
burning brightly, and Rosa gathered an outer garment and was in the act of
putting it on over her head when a flash, a loud report, and the girl sank to
the floor with a stream of blood gushing out from the right lower breast and
another on the opposite side behind. The window shade had not been
pulled completely down, leaving a crack about two inches between the top of the
window sill and the bottom of the curtain. On the outside of the window was a
wire screen, and through this the deadly ball passed. By this time, the business portion
of the city was becoming thoroughly frightened. So intense was the excitement
concerning the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Haynes and the assassination of
Maude Kramer that the third shooting failed to add much to the general frenzy.
The crowd that gathered at the Rivers place was small in comparison with that
in the woods, at the Exposition Hall, as well as that at Madame Lester's. The doctor was just finishing
dressing the wounds of the Kramer girl when he was summoned to go in haste to
the Rivers house, as his services were urgently needed. Every attention
possible was bestowed upon the doubly unfortunate women, and at that time it
was thought that death would be sure and soon. Every officer and deputy in the
city was summoned. The Stanley Rangers and the Denison Rifles were awakened and
summoned to guard the city. Mounted police began patrolling. Officers Preston
and Deering stationed themselves at a point in the rear of the Star lumber
yard. A suspicious character was seen, and he was called upon to surrender.
Instead of so doing, he turned to his heels and fled. Chase was given, four shots
were fired, but the fleeing man turned the corner at the north approach to the
viaduct and disappeared in the darkness. Who he was or his mission will
probably never be known. About 3:20 o'clock a courier came
down to Main Street from North Denison and announced the killing of MISS FLORENTINE HAWLEY. By the dim light in the room, she
saw a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. She screamed and the man
commanded her to hush or he would kill her. She begged him not to kill them,
saying she would give him all the valuables in the house if he would only spare
their lives. He replied: "Be still, for already three women have been
killed in town tonight, and you'll make the fourth." A noise in another
room frightened the villain, and he started to run; both ladies were terribly
frightened and sprang out of bed; he turned and fired back into the room, but
the bullet buried itself in the brick wall of the opposite side of the room.
The ladies by this time were almost in hysterics, and Miss Florentine Hawley
ran into her mother's room and sat down by her. She put her arms around her
daughter and tried to pacify her. While in this attitude, the revolver again
rang out, and through the wire screen across the window came a bullet, which
struck Miss Hawley just below the right shoulder blade and plowed a ghastly
wound through her body. She fell forward and died instantly. The noise aroused
the neighbors, and Mr. Alex Regensberger, who lives next door, saw a man in the
back yard of the Hawley place. The man ran out through the rear gate, and Tom
Cutler, who had also been awakened by the shooting, saw the man run down the
alley. The usually quiet and happy home
was now transformed to a vortex of mingled pain, sorrow, grief, and excitement
beyond human pen or tongue to express. Mr. Watt Smith, who had been awakened by
the first shot, went back into the kitchen, and after closing the door and
window and assuring the ladies that the man had left the house, he returned to
his room, but had scarcely closed the door when the second shot rang out, and
as he sprang back into the ladies' room, Miss Teen fell to the floor a corpse.
The noise awakened scores of neighbors, and it was only a short time until the
house was filled with sympathizing ladies and gentlemen. During this interval the damnable assassin was improving every moment by getting farther and farther away from his horrible work. Men on horseback and on foot began scouring and beating the alleys and streets in every portion of the city, but without avail. The murderer had either made good his concealment or had made his escape from the city. The hunt went on. The sheriff and his officers and dogs were summoned from south Denison to hunt down a still more horrible fiend. Terror seized upon everyone, and no human imagination can conceive of a more horrible situation in any community or any city. Four women had been shot down as though they were but targets for a sportsman's practice. Two were dead, and the others were only clinging to life with a thread of vitality. The demon had covered his tracks in the darkness of the night and had eluded his pursuers.
Wednesday morning in Denison, May
18, 1892, and the preceding night will go down to the future as the darkest
page in the history of the city. And well it may. The record is not only
appalling, but the circumstances and surroundings add peculiar horror to the
night's butchery and assassinations. Men gathered about over the city in groups
and squads, and with heads bowed in sorrow discussed the awful situation. Out
at the home of Mr. Haynes, every motor brought friends and sympathizers, and as
the trains returned to the city, men and women with blanched faces came in. As
the day wore on, preparations for burial were perfected. Miss Teen Hawley was
dressed in a burial robe of black, and as hundreds of people filed in and out
of the small yet beautiful parlor, but one feeling filled the minds of
all—Mystery! Mystery! Shrouded in deeper mystery still! Who did it? Why did he
do it? What motive prompted the demon's action? Or, was it the work of some mad
man on destruction bent? Later in the day it was announced that the burial would take place from St. Patrick's Catholic church at 11 o'clock on Thursday morning.
Card of Thanks To the Editor of the
Gazetteer: We, the husband and parents, for
ourselves and other relatives of Mrs. Hattie G. Haynes, murdered by burglars on
Tuesday night last, desire to make grateful acknowledgment to the generous
people of Denison for their numberless manifestations of sympathy in our awful
bereavement. It would be invidious to mention
names where the proffers of sympathy and assistance have been so universal. As
the years pass by, the memory of so much considerate kindness will abide as a balm
to assuage the bitterness of our grief. The gentlemen connected with the
management of the motor line and the MK&T railway have made special and
extraordinary efforts to aid the officers in the investigation of the crime, as
well as to bring to our doors relatives and friends from a distance, and will
please accept our heartfelt thanks. Our thanks are likewise due to the
press of the city for its considerate and sympathetic treatment of an
occurrence so distressing. W. F. Haynes, In 1911, Dr. Haynes' house was bought by R. S.
Legate and moved into town and placed
next door to the new library and was torn down just this year, 1975, to give
more room for the library. R. S. Legate was a president of the National Bank of
Denison, Texas. We
then (1911) lived at 1031 West Bullock Street. As they moved the house into
town, they left it at the side of our house for one night, and all the children
in the neighborhood thought it was haunted. In 1920, Mrs. Haynes' sister's
house, of course belonging to someone else, was destroyed completely by fire.
Dr. Haynes' house, such as the foundation, etc., can still be seen as of now
[1975; later demolished]. Next Page Native American Roots Grayson County Ethnic Research Grayson County TxGenWeb Susan Hawkins © 2024 |