Today author Kathy Otten joins us with a very interesting blog:
The Famous Gallows of Fort Smith
The fun thing about researching a historical novel is the discovery of all the fascinating bits of information you find along the way.
Delving into the background for my new novel, Lost Hearts, it was inevitable that the famous gallows of Fort Smith, where Judge Isaac Parker hanged seventy-nine men, would need a small place in the story.
In 1816 the U.S. government established a military post on the line dividing Arkansas from Indian Territory, where the Poteau and Arkansas Rivers flow together. The site was named Fort Smith, after General Thomas A. Smith, who selected the site.
A heavy stone wall and corner bastions were built in 1839 to enclose the grounds. In 1873 the property was given to the United States District court and it was just inside this wall at the south corner, that the famous gallows was erected.
At Judge Isaac Parker’s order, an immense gallows was built in the courtyard. George Maledon, the executioner in Fort Smith, oversaw the building of the famous scaffold on the site which once occupied the fort’s powder magazine.
The platform of the gallows was seven feet high, just enough to keep a man’s feet from touching the ground. The oak, twelve by twelve inch I-beam was supported by similar twelve inch thick timbers. Each row of the four traps (two in the front and two behind), were thirty inches wide by 12 feet, designed to hang as many as twelve men at one time. Later a back wall and a roof were added to the structure.
Early hangings were witnessed by thousands, many of whom traveled hundreds of miles and remained in the city for days camping on the ground, sleeping at the foot of the scaffold.
On September 3, 1875 some five thousand spectators gathered, some arriving a week before, to see the first hanging of six men. Men brought their entire families and the children climbed the walls surrounding the fort to get a better view. The best vantage points were occupied by reporters, many who came all the way from St. Louis, Kansas City and parts of the Eastern Seaboard.
The morning before the execution, Maledon chose three of his best ropes and dropped them from the great cross beam of the gallows. He inspected the steps and platform, tested the trap doors, got out his oil can and oiled the hinges. Then he picked six special guards, issued them uniforms and weapons, and gave them instructions so none of the condemned men had a chance to escape. Next he provided new suits and coffins for the prisoners and arranged to have any unclaimed corpses carted to the cemetery.
The marshal entered the jail and read the death warrants. Then at 9:30 sharp the doomed men were escorted to the gallows by a dozen armed guards and local ministers. After the death sentences were read the six were allowed to speak their last words. A short religious ceremony was held by attendant clergymen. After prayers and a little hymn singing by the crowd, the men were led into position over the long trap door. Then the executioner, George Maledon, came to his post, dressed in a modest black suit wearing his pistols under his coat. He fastened the straps, adjusted the nooses and slipped the black hoods in place. A few moments later he released the bolt.
A thudding noise followed, as the doors fell apart. The men shot down to the ends of their ropes. Their heads tilted to one side, their necks broken. After hanging for half an hour, the bodies were lowered.
Eastern newspapers carried the story, shocking many people throughout the country, and giving Judge Parker the reputation of being inhumane and heartless.
In 1882, a white washed stockade fence was built around the gallows as Washington ordered the hangings closed to the public and the number of official witnesses cut down to forty.
In this excerpt from, Lost Hearts, the hero, U.S. Deputy Marshal Richard Bennick leaves a meeting with the marshal, and as he mounts his horse he stares out at the gallows.
***
His stomach churned and sweat popped out across his brow. Even now the guilt still lingered. He’d done something, something very bad, he just didn’t know what. He didn’t want to think about it, but Brady was dead, and he had a feeling it was his
fault.
God, he needed a drink.
“Bennick?”
Richard blinked and blew out a shaky breath. Upham had asked a question. What was it?
“Deputy, I think this is too much for you right now.”
“I’m fine, it’s just hot in here.”
“No, you don’t look well. Go home, get some rest, and we’ll talk again in a couple of days. Meantime, you may want to hire yourself an attorney. If this goes to the grand jury, he can have Hobbs and Johnny Bodine subpoenaed. I’ll send as many deputies out to find them as I have to.” Upham stood and stepped around his desk.
Richard rose and they shook hands.
“Now don’t worry, deputy,” Marshal Upham said as they walked to the office door. “You’ve been very ill. Just give it time. The memories will come back to you.”
Richard said good-bye and limped down the hallway. That’s what he was afraid of.
Outside, he mounted his horse and sat, his gaze captured by the gallows on the south side of the parade grounds.
The platform rose seven feet high, just enough to keep a man’s feet from touching the ground when the lever was pulled. A twelve foot beam supported by heavy timbers, ran the width of the floor, and was strong enough to allow six men to simultaneously drop to their deaths.
Although hangings attracted hundreds of people who camped out near the grounds and brought picnic lunches, Richard had never watched an execution. He’d seen too much of the reality of life to find death entertaining.
How would it feel to stand up there, looking out across a crowd of gawking spectators? Would he choose to wear the hood, or would he stare defiantly over the tops of their heads as the weight of the finest hemp was dropped around his neck.
He could almost imagine the prick of the fibers pressing into his Adam’s apple as the well oiled hemp was pulled snug. He swallowed against the imaginary pressure. The knot would lay heavy behind his left ear, in the hollow of his jaw bone.
Then when the trap opened, and his body shot down, the rope would snap taut and break his neck.
The hangman, George Maledon, once told Richard that he had never preformed a “bad” hanging. He had a trick when positioning the rope so men didn’t strangle, thrashing and kicking until
they died.
Richard tightened his grip on the reins. Would hanging be his fate if he couldn’t remember; if Johnny couldn’t be found? Though he struggled daily to do right, maybe in the end, this had always been his destiny.
Kathy Ottenhttp:www.kathyottenauthor.com
LOST HEARTSHe's sworn to bring her to justice, though only she can heal his heart.
Available Now From The Wild Rose Press
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/lost-hearts-p-4307.html
