Newspaper Page Text
DESPERATE HISKS
Hots) I Ha*Oe Faced Death
Hots) JVed Lyons y My
Husband, Shot and
Many JVarrots) Escapevi
of My Companions.
CTUMIJVALS TAKE;
mortal and
^ thr^ jjays
:)r ge ! ason
fett ( ly i
betwe a ub
r of thi gap-
:hc wii robe
any f| tber
montsf rob
n was, Ding
ly fos t to
y our inds
svery ; ison
w tha thin
ckily a ugh
: a chi ten-
as not rely
hours. This
iy rem ling
-turni
irk lai
—the i
sledga
rell di ;ted
in the loot
ly. T1
e undi
>wn in
idge at
1 it
se hid
f or an
that wi
3s we__._
light
him ci
raid it
out
rns.
ets
am-
he
his
the
w Es ipe
sn promised
e shell
iuld hi
of
to
his k pe
me.
ter-
not
.1' !
hit,
11 cl
is lock i up
lave to cme
ik vau b to
toel si 3 to
eases, )cu-
itimes rnds
n the 1 side
hauled
select®
ed and
lined <
r Of 1
oo mui
disappi ired
Ned alfays
ling."
he rej
to open
there B
big
icial
him
the
rom
me
ack
of
ied;
this
ten-
ing to the rasping of his drills against
the door of the safe. Just as we felt the
tug on the rope which was the signal to
haul him up, we saw the flare of his
lighted match and heard the sputter of
H ' the fuse.
We pulled on the rope for all we were
worth but before George's body was
within two feet of the hole in the floor
there came a blinding flash, followed by
an explosion that shook the building.
Although dazed toy the shock and half
blinded by the cloud of dust and poison
ous fumes which poured up through the
hole, we managed to keep our hold on
the rope and haul our helpless comrade
out of the death trap In which the prema
ture explosion had caught him.
“George!” 1 called as we lifted the rope
from under his arms. But he never an
swered and I thought it was only a corpse
that we laid gently on the floor. His hair
and eyebrows were completely burned
off, his face and hands were as black as
coal and he was bleeding from an ugly
wound in the head.
We forgot the money we were after—
we forgot the danger of being caught, in
our anxjety for our wounded friend. One
of the men brought water while I tried
to force a drink of brandy down his
throat. It seemed an age before he came
to his senses, raised himself on one elbow
and roughly pushed me aside.
"It went off too quick for me,’’ he said;
“but don’t be foolish—I’ll be all right in a
minute. Look and see if the noise has
roused the town.”
I looked out—there was not a soul in
sight. The bank’s thick walls and the
y fact that it stood at some distance from
any other building had evidently pre
vented the «xplosion being heard outside.
We Get the Bank's Money
Although suffering intense pain, George
insisted on going back to get the money.
It was no easy task, for the vault was
full of suffocating smoke. There was no
''time to lose, as the watohman might re
turn at any minute.
After a few minutes we hauled him up
for the third time.
“That charge blew the safe door to splin
ters, but here’s every dollar it contained,”
he said, handing me several packages of
bills.
I counted the money and had hard
work to conceal ray surprise when I
found there was only $30,000. But, as
Mason thought himself lucky to escape
with his life and as the other two men
seemed well satisfied with the amount, I
said nothing.
We started at once for Chicago, where
a few days later we divided the spoils.
As I had expected, the bank’s loss was
placed by the newspapers at $200,000. A
large reward was offered for the capture’
of the robbers. I was pleased to note
that the president’s story of the amount
taken and of the complete mystery in
which the affair was shrouded seemed to
be generally accepted
After the excitement had died down the
bank president came to Detroit to see me.
Worry over the possibility of his crime
being discovered had shattered his nerve^
and he was such a poor broken specimen
of an old man that 1 did not have the
heart to demand the additional $20,000
which he had promised us. As I tore up
our agreement and handed him the pieces,
he said:
Facing a Lynching Mob
"My criminal folly has ruined my peace
of mind. Thanks to your help, I have
saved my family from disgrace, but the
worries and nervous strain of my defalca
tion and the bank robbery have killed me.
My doctors cay I have heart disease, and
have but a few months to live. I wish I
had known two years ago what I have
since learned—that crime does not pay.”
The desperate risks every criminal has
to run often come through no crime of
his own but through his association with
other criminals. Two of the most ex
citing events in my varied career hap
pened to me through my loyal effort to
save the life of my friend, Tom Bigelow,
a well-known bank sneak and burglar.
It was in Mount Sterling, Kentucky,
that all this happened. I was there on a
perfectly legitimate errand and had no
idea that any of my criminal friends
were in the vicinity.
There was a circus in town that day,
and the long main street was crowded
with sightseers. I had been watching the
parade with the rest and was on my way
Dack to the hotel for dinner when I heard
some one call my name.
Looking around in surprise I saw
Johnny Mcaney, a young bank sneak,
whom I knew well, pressing his way
through the crowd toward me. He was
all out of breath and in the greatest agi
tation.
“Sophie,” he whispered in my ear,
“they’ve just caught Toip Bigelow with
the bank’s money on him and they’re go
ing to lynch him.”
There was no time iu ask him more—
before the last word was fairly out of his
mouth he had disappeared in the crowd.
As I afterward learned, Tom and Johnny
had taken advantage of the excitement
created by the circus parade to rob the
Mount Sterling Bank. While the cashier
was standing upon the counter to see
the passing parade, Johnny had crawled
in under his legs and taken a bundle of
money out of the vault.
He got safely out with his plunder and
was just handing it to Tom, who had been
waiting in a buggy outside, when the
cashier discovered his loss and raised a
great outcry. Before Tom had time to
stir out of his tracks a hundred willing
hands in the crowd had made <him a pris
oner—then some one started the cry i
“Lynch the Yankee robber!’’ and some one
else brought a rope. *
In the excitement nimble Johnny
Mcaney had managed to escape. As he
dashed down the street he had chanced
to catch sight of me and had passed me
the word of our friend’s peril.
a
ie
was
tod in
: how
r to
could see Tom’s familiar
of the yelling mob which
on a soap box under
of the court house,
looked—pale as a sheet,
securely bound behind
had removed his
the noose which hung
k that Unless I could devise some
gelow’s lifeless body would soon
eyjs-
ophee 0f nervous energy I pos-
ay tl^ro igfi the crowd screaming
Don’t lynch him—oh,
I climbed up on the box beside Tom. I threw n
arms around his neck, although the feel of that ug
noose against my flesh made me shudder.
I hugged Tom Bigelow, I kissed him, I wept ovi
him—I did everything I could imagine a woman doir
when the man she loves is about to be hanged befo
her eyes.
“If you hang him, you’ll have to hang me, too!”
screamed between my heartrending sobs.
The crowd was amazed. Lynchings were no uncor
mon occurrence in that region, but nothing like this ha
ever happened before.
The cooler heads in the crowd began to have the
say. “Take that noose off his neck and lock them bot
up,” some one shouted.
The Sheriff put handcuffs on us and led us awa;
My ruse had succeeded—Tom Bigelow’s life was saved
The crowd was already hurrying in the
direction of the square in the centre of
the town where the court house stood and
l followed as fast as my legs could carry
me.
As 1 entered the square I could see
Tom’s familiar form looming above the
heads of the yelling mob which surround
ed him. He was mounted on a soap box
tinder an oak tree which stood in front
of the court house.
1 shall never forget how he looked—
pale as a sheet, his feet tied with rope,
his arms securely h^nd behind him. He
w'as bareheaded and they had removed
his coat and collar in order to adjust
the noose which hung around his neck.
Quite plainly, if there was anything I
could do to save my friend, it must be
done quickly. The mob was loudly clam
oring for his life. Already a young man
was climbing up the tree in search of a
convenient limb over which to throw the
end of the rope.
1 shuddered to think that unless I could
devise some plan of action, Tom Bigelow’s
lifeless body would soon be dangling be
fore my eyes.
Summoning every ounce of the nervous
energy I possessed, I pressed my way
through the crowd, screaming frantically:
“That man is my sweetheart! Don’t
lynch him—oh, please don’t lynch him!"
My action took the crowd by surprise—
they made a lane for me and pushed me
along until finally I stood right at Tom’s
feet.
How I Saved Tom’s Life
I climbed up on the box beside Tom.
1 threw my arms around his neck, al
though the feel of that ugly noose against
my flesh made me shudder.
“This man is innocent—he is my sweet-
What Happened When We Robbed a Bank “By Request.”
There was too much danger of the gaping hole we
had dug under the wardrobe being discovered to admit
of any further delay. We quickly completed our ar
rangements to rob the bank that very night.
Shortly after midnight we put out all the lamps and
lighted our dark lanterns. I peered out of the window
—the streets were deserted.
George Mason took a small sledge hammer, and with
one or two well directed blows opened up the hole In
the floor wide enough to admit .his body. Then he tied
one end of a long rope under his arms and we lowered
him down into the vault.
For several minutes we waited breathlessly, listen
ing to George as he fumbled around the vault by the
light of his dark lantern. Then we heard him call in
a hoarse whisper:
‘‘Sophie, it’s just as I was afraid it would be! Every
cent of the money is locked up in the small steel safe.
I’ll have to come up and get my tools.”
It is the custom in big bank vaults to have a small
and separate steel safe to put the actual cash into.
Leases, documents, account books and sometimes bonds
and stock certificates are kept in the big vault, but
money and things of special value are usually locked
up in the inside steel compartment
With some difficulty we hauled him back up. From
his bag he selected the drills he thought he would need
and from a bottle poured out what seemed to me an
extra generous quantity of powder.
“Be careful and not use too much of that stuff,” I
called at he disappeared again through the hole. “Ned
always said that was your worst failing.”
“Don’t you worry 8ophle," he replied; “it will take
a good big dose to open this safe.”
For several minutes we sat there listening to the
rasping of his drills against the door of the safe. Just
as we felt the quick tug on the rope, which was the sig
nal to haul film up, we saw the flare of his lighted
match and heard the sputter of the fuse.
We pulled on the rope for all we were worth, but
before George’s body was within two feet of the hole
in the floor there came a blinding flash, followed by an
explosion that shook the building.
Although dazed by the shock and half blinded by the
cloud of dust and poisonous fumes which poured up
through the hole, we managed to keep our hold on the
rope and haul our toelplees comrade out of the death
trap in which the premature explosion had caught him.
“George!” I called as we lifted the rope from under
his arms. But he never answered, and I thought it
only a corpse that we laid gently on the floor. His hair
and eyebrows were completely burned off, his face and
hands were as black as coal and he was bleeding from
an ugly wound in his head.
heart,” I kept shouting. “You must let
him go.”
•I hugged Tom Bigelow, I kissed him,
I wept over him—I did everything I could
imagine a woman doing when the man she
loves is about to be hung before her eyes.
“If you hang him, you’ll have to hang
me, too,” I screamed between my heart
rending sobs.
The crowd was amazed. Lynchings
were no uncommon occurrence in that
region, but notlhing like this had ever
happened before.
The cooler heads in the crowd began
to have their say. “Take that noose off
his neck and lock them both up,” some
one shouted.
The Sheriff put handcuffs on us and
led us away.. My ruse had succeeded.
Tom Bigelow’s life was saved!
Tom and I were lodged in jail, indicted
by the Grand Jury and held without bail
for trial. Of course, I was innocent of
any share in the robbery, but as the
authorities believed my story that I was
Tom’s sweetheart, they thought 1 must
know more about it than I admitted.
It was while we were confined in the
jail at Mount Sterling that I had an op
portunity to see for myself how it feels
to face a desperate lynching mob. That
■was one of the most horrid nightmares I
ever experienced.
One of our fellow inmates in the jail
was a man named Murphy Ix>gan, who
was awaiting trial for the murder of his
father. He was a sullen, weak-minded
fellow, who had several killings to his
discredit. The general opinion was that
he 'belonged in an insane asylum.
In another neighboring cell was a
young man named Charlie Steele. He was
exceedingly popular in the community.
His worst fault was love of liquor and
he was in jail for some minor offense
which he had committed on one of his
sprees. The other prisoners shunned Ijo-
gan on account of his disagreeable ways,
but Steele good naturedly made quite a
frjend of him and they often played cards
together
In this jail the prisoners were allowed
ihe freedom of the long corridor on which
the cells opened. One afternoon Tom
Bigelow and I sat just outside my cell
trying to devise some way to regain our
liberty Down at the other end of the
corridor Charlie Steele and Murphy Lo
gan were enjoying -their usual game of
cards.
Suddenly we were startled by a piercing
scream. I jumped to my feet, and looked
around to see poor Steele lying on the
floor with the blood streaming from a
long wound in his throat. Over him,
glaring like the madman he was, stood
Murphy Logan, brandishing in one hand
a heavy piece of tin which he had fash
ioned into a crude sort of dagger
Forgetful of my own danger, I rushed
up and seized Logan’s arm, just as he
was about to plunge the weapon into
Steele’s body again. He turned on me
but I managed -to keep him from wound
ing me until Tom and some of the other
prisoners came to my assistance.
Steele lived only a few hours. The
Sheriff placed the murderer in solitary
confinement, and chained him to the floor
of his cell. His ravings were something
terrible to hear. He continually threat 1
ened vengeance on any of his fellow
prisoners who would tell how he had
slain his friend.
After listening to these threats all night
long we were in terror of our lives, and
when the inquest was held next diK- not
a single prisoner would admit ttl^t he
bad seen the killing
"Didn’t you see this happen?” the
Sheriff asked me.
“No,” I lied, "I was in my cell at the
time, and don’t know anything about how
Steele came to his end.”
“You lie!” shouted Logan, when he
heard this. “If you hadn’t interfered I
would have cut him up worse than I did.
1 will make you suffer for sticking youT
nose into my affairs.”
.The town was in a fever of excitement,
and from the windows of our cells we
could see excited groups discussing the
murder on every corner. Feeling ran
particularly high, because the dead man
had been so popular In the community
while nobody liked Murphy Logan.
Late that night Logan became so ex
hausted with his ravings that he fell
asleep. I was just preparing to try to
get some rest myself when I heard the
tramp of heavy feet coming up the jail
stairs.
By the dim light of the one smoky
kerosene lamp I saw a crowd of masked
men trooping into the corridor. The
leaders carried heavy sledge hammers,
and with these, having been unable to make
the Sheriff give up his keys, they at
tacked the iron door of Logan’s cell.
It quickly fell to pieces before their
sturdy blows. Then they broke the mur
derer’s shackles and dragged him, shriek
ing curses with every breath, down the
stairs and out into the street.
Thev ttrnne him nn to a troo.
him with bulietB, and left his body bang
ing there in -the moonlight in full view
of my cell window. This was too much
for my overwrought nerves. 1 threw my
self on my couch and wept. Tom Bige
low did his best to console me, but 1
could not sleep—my head ached and I
trembled In every limb.
About an hour later I heard that
ominous tramp of feet again! This time
the masked men came straight to the door
of my cell.
“Is this where that woman is?” a
rough voice called.
I cowered in a corner, too frightened to
reply. They pounded the door down Just
as they had Murphy Logan’s. A man
seized me J>y the arm, and pulled me out,
none too gently.
They were going to lynch me—I was
convinced of -that. With tears streaming
down my checks I pleaded as I never had
before, that I was innocent of any. crime,
and begged to be allowed to go back home
to my children. *
They took me downstairs Into the
Sheriff’s office, where sat a man who
seemed to be the leader of -the mob.
“So vou tried to save Charlie Steele’s
life, did you?” he said to me.
Then for the first time it dawned on m®
that perhaps I was not going to be hanged
after all. I told -the whole truth about
what I had done when I saw Logan wav
ing his dagger over bis victim. When I
had finished the leader said;
“That’s all we wan-t to know, young
woman. We liked Charlie Steele, and we
like you for what you tried to do for him.
Now you’re free to get out of town—that’s
your reward for trying to save poor
Charlie. We’ll see you safely to the depot”
1 was overjoyed. The leader handed me
enough money for my . traveling expenses
and permitted me to go up to Tom’s cell
and tell him of my good fortune. Before
day broke 1 was on a train for Detroit.
These are only a few of the desperate
risks which my husband, my friends and
I were constantly facing during the years
when I was active in crime.
If every business man and merchant
faced prison, bullets or a lynching as a
necessary risk of trade, would anybody
regard business life as attractive?
The few incidents from my own expe
riences recounted on this page give one
more illuminative reason why 1 maintain
that CRIME DOES NOT PAY!
SOPHIE LYONS.
Next Sunday Sophie Lyons Will Peveal the Secrets Behind the Scenes
at a $3,009,000 Burglary—The Astonishing* Details of the Robbery of the
Manhattan 8ank in New York, the Biggest Cracksmen’s Jt b Ever Ac-
A-
Adventure with
Lynching Mob,