Officer Down

By Jim Jones

The year 2016 was heartbreaking for law enforcement agencies across the United States, with 140 officers being killed in the line of duty. Their deaths, and the deaths of those who died so long ago, should never be forgotten. Officer Down: 1850–1900, Volume 1 is a compilation of seventeen riveting stories of law enforcement officers killed in the line of duty between 1850 and 1900. These stories are pulled directly from various newspapers across the United States, captivating the reader just as they did when first put to print. Many of the stories are so mesmerizing, you can practically hear the gunfire erupt while choking on the pungent aroma of spent gunpowder as it fills the air. The book begins with the shooting of Newark, New Jersey, police officers Benjamin Elsden and Augustus Dickerson in July 1876. The shootings were perpetrated by three notorious brothers, who met justice in an unconventional manner. The final chapter is a fascinating case involving the death of multiple law enforcement officers in the state of Washington at the hands of Thomas Blanck. This book is a tribute to all the men and women who wear a badge and carry a weapon for a living. These stories are retold, so they will never be forgotten.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640275799

Book preview

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Officer

Down

1850–1900

Volume I

Jim Jones

Copyright © 2017 Jim Jones

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-64027-578-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64027-579-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Introduction

This book is a collection of newspaper articles about law enforcement officers being killed in the line of duty. The selected headlines are stories that were carefully crafted by newspaper editors of a bygone era. The articles were captured word for word, allowing you, the reader, to follow the harrowing stories as they unfold. It puts you back in history and allows you to understand the dangers of being a law enforcement officer.

Chapter 1

Benjamin Elsden

Benjamin Elsden was a police officer in Newark, New Jersey, in July 1876. He had only been on the department for about two months; he wore badge number 47. On July 13, Patrolman Elsden was handed a summons and instructed to arrest Adolph Thielhorn and his two brothers, Charles and Albert, for breach of peace, a minor offense. Elsden enlisted the assistance of a colored associate, Patrolman Augustus Dickerson. Together, Elsden and Dickerson proceeded to 101 Jackson Street where Dickerson covered the alley while Elsden saw if the brothers were at home. The multistory house belonged to Mr. Miller. Miller’s daughter told Elsden that the men he was looking for were at home in their second-floor apartment. The door was slammed in Elsden’s face on his first attempt; therefore, he summoned Dickerson to assist him. Both officers were eventually allowed into the residence. Per the statement of Officer Dickerson, all three Thielhorn brothers started arming themselves with navy revolvers, and that he suggested to Elsden they not be allowed to do so. Dickerson added that Elsden stated the men would be disarmed once they arrived at the police station. When the third brother grabbed his revolver, Officer Dickerson seized it by the muzzle in an attempt to stop him from getting it. At this time, according to Dickson, the other brothers leveled their revolvers and started shooting. Four to five shots rang out. Dickerson saw Elsden fall to the floor. Dickerson managed to get the apartment door open and fled with the brothers right behind him firing away. Dickerson was hit in the back with a bullet that pierced his lung. The assailants went on a riot, killing a total of three people before being stopped; the rampage ended when all three brothers were stoned to death in the Passaic River.

Article from the New York Herald

(New York, New York; Friday; July 14, 1876)

THE THILHORN VENDETTA—Since the South street tragedy, which swept to his final account in a most shocking manner the renowned General Pat Halstead, reference to whose fated family was made in the Herald yesterday, the city of Newark has known no such excitement as that which stirred it yesterday to its center. This excitement was caused by a tragedy, the thrilling and extraordinary character of which is sometimes equaled, but rarely, if ever, excelled by accounts of deadly rencontres in Western journals. It was a tragedy complete in one chapter, a tragedy which ended immediately after it begun. Leaving no opportunity for Jersey justice to vindicate itself through the medium of the gallows or for a bungling sheriff or his still more bungling deputies to furnish a disgusting spectacle, as in the case of the wretched Lusignani, at Morristown, a few years ago. The one act witnessed the beginning and the ending, the slaying of several inoffensive citizens and the immediate slaughter of their three murderer.

The details run as follows: About three years ago there was employed at Thomas H. Dawson’s patent leather factory, corner of River and Madison streets, a man named Albert Thilhorn, a peaceable, well-disciplined workman. Soon he was joined by two brothers, Charles and Adolph. These proved decidedly less quiet and tractable. They brought with them some $1,500, the value of a small estate left them by their parents. The possession of this money seems to have made them exceedingly overbearing and disposed to take umbrage at every slight. They went to work at Dawson’s with Albert. The old hands called the new comers greenhorns in a joking manner. This annoyed Charles and Adolph so that in about two weeks they, together with Albert, the elder brother, left the factory. Some say they were discharged, but this the foreman at Dawson’s denies. While employed in the factory the brothers loaned a man named Wertzel some $70. After their departure they earned for themselves a pretty hard name, Albert even having changed his peaceable disposition to that of a rowdy. One day the two stopped Mr. Charles W. Meyer, Dawson’s foreman, and in an angry, menacing manner demanded the money borrowed by Wertzel. Of that he knew nothing, but told them he would see Wertzel about it. He did so, and the result was that the money was all paid over in installments. Meanwhile the brothers led a very loose life. They sought no employment and spent their time in beer drinking, smoking and carousing. They hired rooms at No. 101 Jackson street from Mr. Peter Miller and lived there, keeping bachelor’s hall in a rude, uncouth way. One day, as if Wertzel had not paid them a cent, Charley, the youngest of the brothers, waylaid the former on the canal bridge, near the factory, and demanded more money from him. Wertzel refused and Charles assault him atrociously. But for a tin dinner can, which Wertzel carried, he would have been stabbed to the heart. As it was, he was wounded. The result of this was the arrest of all three of the brothers. Charles was sent for six months to State Prison. This was about a year or eighteen months ago. Then it was that the brothers vowed vengeance on Wertzel and every one who had been in any way instrumental in consigning Charles to the doom of a convict. That this threat was no idle one is proven by the facts of the dreadful slaughter yesterday, and by the additional fact that a target, well riddled with pistol shots, was found in the rooms occupied by the Thilhorns. Of late they have been in many ways greatly disturbing certain workmen in Dawson’s factory, Mr. Charles W. Meyer being their special bete noire. Threatening letters, they wrote him in great numbers. It seems that they were equally troublesome to Mr. Moffatt, a ward tax collector. Whenever he appeared at the place for arrears of taxes they would seize a razor and begin sharpening it, and acting in such a manner as to almost frighten the life out of the poor official, and start him off without his taxes. Moffatt and Meyer held counsel, and together they went to the police court on Wednesday and lodged a complaint of disorderly against the brothers. Myers was the complainant and Moffat the witness. A warrant was issued by Justice Jessup for the arrest of the Thilhorns. It was placed for execution in the hands of Officer Benjamin Elsden, one of the newest appointees on the police force. Yesterday, about one o’clock, Elsden, accompanied by Officer Albert Dickerson, one of the few colored policemen of Newark, proceeded to execute the warrant. They arrived at the house where the Thilhorns resided between one and two o’clock. Dickerson posted himself in the alley near the house, while Elsden entered it. He first ascertained from the people who own the house and reside on the ground floor that the men were in. The brave officer sprang up the stairs and knocked at the door of the Thilhorns’ apartment.

Who’s there? said a voice from within.

A friend; open the door, said the officer.

The door was opened and the officer showed his warrant. Instantly the door was shut in his face. He demanded its reopening in the name of the law and called for Dickerson to assist him. Before Dickerson had time to respond the door was opened, and as soon as the officer entered closed a second time. Before the gallant fellow could look about him in the room he fell to the floor shot through the heart. He had been twice shot at besides. Two young women, Mrs. Vanderhoef and Mrs. Georgianna Reynolds, sisters and daughters of the owner of the house, Mr. Miller, sat in the room underneath where this tragedy occurred. They heard the heavy fall on the floor above of the slaughtered policeman and were frightened almost to death. Mrs. Vanderhoef darted out into the yard, while her sister, Mrs. Reynolds, remained in the house, paralyzed with fear. Presently down stairs dashed one of the Thilhorns and through the lowed apartments. He seemed crazed, and leveled his great navy revolver at the defenseless female. He fired, but fortunately the ball only grazed her head. Out into the street the ruffian next darted, followed by his brothers. Dickerson, the black policeman, fled before them. They shot him in the back, the ball entering the left side of the backbone, glancing upward through the lungs. The villains next shot seriously wounded a Mr. John Cahill, residing next door, who ran out from his dinner to see what the noise was about. Cahill had not raised a finger or spoken a word to the ruffians. All this occurred in a great deal less time than it has taken to narrate the bare facts. The desperados appeared to be regularly possessed with a murder devil.

Down Jackson street they dashed like a trio of savages, a large crowd after them, keeping, however, a respectful distance from the revolver armed madmen. It was close to two o’clock when they sprang across the canal bridge and up into the second floor of Dawson’s factory. They sung out for Myers, but before a reply could be given they began to make havoc among the workmen nearest them. Charles Fischer, assistant foreman, and one of their assumed enemies, was the nearest to them. Thrice they shot at him. One ball pierced Fischer’s heart, and he fell dead instantly. They next shot John Albers, a young workman, son-in-law of Myers. He was shot in the head, lungs and arm. He lived only a few hours. Myers, fortunately, was in a far off part of the factory, so that although they shot at him repeatedly they did not hit him. They made a dash for the workmen up stairs in the third floor, but by this time-and it was but a few minutes subsequent to their entrance-the workmen rallied with knives and stones and drove the murderers down into the street. Albert, the eldest Thilhorn, had a revolver in each hand; the other two one each. At the foot of the stairs they shot at a workman named Fredrick Slutz and struck him, but his wound was only a scalp-scrape. Then ensued a thrilling scene. The workmen in the factory, to the number of about thirty, maddened at the spectacle of the dead Fischer and the dying Albers, seized long knives used in their business and charged the murderous trio. On they drove them, along River street, between the Morris and Essex Canal and the Passaic River, the Thilhorns turning every now and then in their flight to fire a volley into the crowd of pursuers. The latter were too far behind to be hurt. Finally the murderers were forced into a corner-the fence against Balback’s place and a great bank of oyster shells, together with the approaching workmen forming an enclosure from which there was no escape except by the river. The brothers waited till the workmen were nearly upon them, and then were driven into the river. As he was going overboard, Charley, the youngest, levelled and fired his revolver at John Weiss. The ball missed Weiss. Not so the knife of Weiss, which nearly severed Charley’s right hand. The two were literally stoned to death in the water. Up to five o’clock the only body found was that of Charles Thilhorn. It presented a ghastly spectacle, an ugly wound on the head, showing that he had been stoned as well as knifed. The body was taken to Comptain’s morgue. It lay there not far from that of the murdered white policeman Elsden-the murdered almost alongside his murderer. It was a ghastly, a horrible sight. Fischer’s body was taken to his late home. Dickerson was removed to St. Michael’s hospital, where he died during the evening. John Albers also died, so that the following is the list of dead and wounded:

Benjamin Elsden, dead.

Augustus Dickerson, dead.

Charles Fischer, dead.

John Albers, dead.

The three Thilhorns, dead.

John Cahill, wounded.

Frederick Slutz, wounded.

The Thilhorns were natives of Magdeburg, Prussia, and were about from thirty-five to forty-five years of age. They would probably have been lynched had they not met the fate described, so bitter and intense was the feeling against them.

During the excitement, Mr. Thomas W. Dawson, Sr., owner of the factories, had his pocket picked of some $2,200 in checks by some sneak thief. He has stopped payment on them at the various banks.

Officer Elsden leaves a wife and a large family. He had been but about two months on the force, having previously been out of employment for about a year.

Fischer was about fifty-five years of age. He also leaves a large family. Dickerson leaves a wife and baby. Albers was married about a year. His widow will soon be a mother, if she survives yesterday’s terrible blow.

The Thilhorns leave no relatives except a sister.

The Coroners will be busy with inquests to-day.

Article from the New York Herald

(New York, New York; Saturday; July 15, 1876)

THE THILHORN TRAGEDY—The excitement over the triple tragedy in Newark increased rather than diminished as the details became known, the magnitude of the horror having increased with the unravelment of the facts. All day long yesterday nothing was talked of but the savage-like attack of the Thilhorns on those who stood in their way or whom they imagined to have wronged them. The universal sentiment of the city is approbation of the fate which the savages met at the hands of Dawson’s workmen.

Yesterday forenoon the body of Albert Thilhorn was fished out of the Passaic, after twenty hours ceaseless grappling. It presented a sight horrible beyond description. In life Albert was a coarse, repulsive looking man. In death his appearance was simply horrible. About half-past four o’clock the third body, that of Adolph Thilhorn, was dragged up from the bed of the Passaic. It was removed to the morgue on Market street. The three bodies were placed in clean deal board coffins. At six o’clock when the Herald representative visited the morgue it was crowded with morbidly curious people, whose curiosity had to be cut short by the undertaker, through their being unceremoniously ordered to leave. The lids of the coffins had to be kept closed, so frightfully sickening was the effluvia which each body emitted. The heads of all three were covered with clots of blood from the stoning to death in the river. Each was attired in coarse workingmen’s clothing, and it was apparent that the art of the undertaker had not been exercised a finger’s stretch in the direction of making them appear an iota better than when they were hooked from the river. The corpse of Charles, the slayer of poor Fischer and Albers, presented if possible, a more shocking sight than the others. In the rencontre at the factory, when the workmen drove the murderers from the place, Charles had his hand nearly severed at the wrist by a hack from a workman’s knife. It hung by a shred and yesterday it was entirely cut off and flung into the coffin with the corpse of the murderer. The two will be buried side by side in one of the Newark cemeteries, where, it seems, they held the deed for a lot.

Yesterday forenoon Coroner Osborne empaneled the following jury to hold an inquest on the six bodies of those killed—Elsden, Fischer, Albers, and the three brothers: David Anderson, Edward Cone, Henry M. Burnett, Aaron F. Anderson, Timothy T. Stiles, William M. Durand, Shepard Mills, John A. Bonnell, James Courter, Joseph L. Miller, James A. Arnold.

After viewing the bodies, the jury adjourned till afternoon, when they reassembled at the Court House at half-past two o’clock.

Charles H. Meyer, the foreman of Dawson’s factory, was the first witness. He testified as follows, corroborating the Herald’s account yesterday: I live at No. 311 Ferry street; I am foreman of the tannery of Mr. Dawson, on River street; I knew Adolph, Albert and Charles Thielhorn for about three years; they have one sister, who lived in New York city; two of them were locksmiths; they have worked under me at Dawson’s tannery; Albert worked about a year; he worked as a laborer; Charley was about thirty years of age; I think the others were older; I had no intimate acquaintance with them; they were not discharged; they left of their own accord; they have not worked at the shop for over two years; when they left they stopped me in the street and said if I did not pay them Witzel’s money they would shoot me; I spoke to Witzel about their money; he had borrowed some money, about $70 or so from them; I got Witzel to agree to pay them each month; Witzel paid them in full; it passed through my hands; Charley Thielhorn afterward had a quarrel with Witzel and stabbed at him; my son-in-law and Fischer were with Witzel when the stabbing took place; I went with Witzel to the station house to make a complaint; afterward a complaint was made before Justice Paulin, and Charley Thielhorn was convicted and sent to State Prison; Charley served his time out; a few days ago they met me on the street and threatened to shoot Albers, Fischer and Witzel; they threatened to shoot me also; they kept on threatening me, and I went to make a complaint against them; a warrant was issued by Justice Jessup and they were about to be arrested; Charley got out of State Prison about a year ago last September; I never had any of their money; I only paid them their wages as they were due; I believe their arrest yesterday was occasioned by my complaint; about two o’clock yesterday afternoon, Thursday, July 13, 1876, I was in the shop; I saw Charley and Albert Thielhorn in the tannery; I heard a pistol shot and saw Fischer shot; I don’t know which one fired at Fischer; my son-in-law Albers came down stairs and took hold of Albert and took his pistol away; the other Thielhorns shot Albers; they both fired; Albers fell to the floor as did Fischer also; they have died from the effects of the wounds received from the pistol shots; I concealed myself because I knew they were after me; I don’t know where the men went to; I looked after my son-in-law; I don’t think the Thielhorns were sane; I don’t think they were drinking men; they came from Prussia; I have only seen Charles Fischer and John Albers since the riot; have not seen any of the Thielhorns; I don’t know why they had any grudge against Witzel; I have heard that they threatened others; they seemed to threaten to shoot anyone who came across their path.

Chief of Police Mills was next placed on the stand. His testimony went to show that he had no knowledge of the Thielhorns being dangerous fellows, or that their neighborhood was dangerous; the warrant for their arrest was for simple breach of the peace; no importance was attached to it; it was given to Officer Elsden in the usual way.

Mrs. Josephine Vanderhoef next testified: I live at No. 101 Jackson street; have lived there since March 1, 1876; the brothers Thielhorn have lived at that number for about three years; they have not worked since I have known them; they had plenty to eat; have seen one of them drunk; they seemed to have plenty of money; they lived alone; I think that the largest one’s name was Albert; one of the little ones did all the marketing and cooking; they went to the river to fish every morning and returned early, and remained home all of the rest of the day; they were all at the house yesterday; Thursday, about 2 o’clock, a policeman knocked at the front door and asked for some men whose names I did not know; the policeman went upstairs and knocked at the door; presently the other policeman went up; the door of the room was opened by one of the men, and the policemen went into the room; there seemed to be some loud talking going on upstairs; I heard the front window let down and the door shut; afterward I heard some five or six shots in rapid succession; my sister was with me; she ran out of my rooms after the firing; as she was running out one of the upstairs men, the big one, fired at her; I never spoke to them; I saw the big one shoot at Cahill, who lived next door; heard one of them tell the policemen to get out of the house; I heard one of them say to his brother that he would take a good many lives before he died; heard him say that on the stoop; I heard the colored policeman say that he was shot. Georgianna Miller corroborated her sister, Mrs. Vanderhoef.

At this stage of the inquest Coroner Osborne put in evidence the following ante-mortem deposition of Policeman Augustus Dickerson, which was taken at St, Michael’s Hospital: Dickerson states that Elsden asked him to aid in making the arrest of the Thielhorns, as there were three of them. Elsden said nothing about the desperate character of the men. They were told by a woman in the lower part of the house that the men were in their apartments. Elsden went up and I remained on the sidewalk. I heard Elsden rap at the door and then tell the woman downstairs to tell me to come up. When I went up I struck the door with my fists. The door was opened wide and we walked in. There was but one man in the front room when we went in. Elsden read a warrant, and asked the man in the front room if that was his name, and he said yes. We then went into the back room and saw two men in a bed. Elsden then read another name from the warrant, and a man with a bald head raised up and said that’s not my name. The other man on the bed raised up and said that is my name. Elsden then read another name from the warrant, and then the bald headed man raised up and said that was his name, and he asked Elsden What for do you want me? Elsden said he had a summons, as I understood him for $20 and some odd cents for a breach of the peace. Then they got off the bed and began to put on their clothes, and kept talking among themselves. Then the man in front came into the rear room. Elsden and I were standing in the doorway between the rooms. I supposed they were dressing to go along with us. There were two navy revolvers lying on a stand or something in the front room. The bald headed man seemed to have his revolver with him. One of the men, a little one, passed by Elsden into the front room and took up his revolver and put it into his pantaloons. I said to Elsden, you should not let him take that revolver, and Elsden said we will take it from him when we get to the station house. This man went back into the rear room. Elsden and myself at that time had left the doorway and came into the corner of the front room. Then the other little man came out from the back room to get his revolver, and I grabbed for it and seized it by the muzzle. As I turned I saw the revolvers of the other two men were leveled at us. I called to the men not to shoot, and also to Elsden to look out for himself. At the moment I cried out to Elsden I felt a sting in my side, and I loosed my hold on the revolver and jumped for the door. The door had been locked. I wrenched it open and jumped for the stairs. As I tried to get the door open I saw Elsden fall. I called out to the men to desist from shooting. I reached the door and the bald-headed man followed after me and fired again. I think there were four or five shots fired while I was in the room. I don’t think the little man, whose revolver I seized, fired at all, for I pushed him forcibly one side and he had not time to get ready. The shots were fired in rapid succession. I left the place and ran to Ferry street. Witness: S. B Morehouse

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AUGUSTUS X DICKERSON

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Thomas W. Dawson was the next witness, and County Physician Ward testified as to the character of the wounds which caused the death of the six men. He corroborated the Herald’s description. Justice Jessup testified to the issuing of the warrant which was placed in Elsden’s hands.

Ex-Policeman Collins testified that he was at his sister’ house when the shooting took place and looked out and saw the three Thielhorns standing in front of their house; I heard Mr. Cahill call for someone to go for a doctor, because he was shot; the three Thielhorns started and ran slowly toward South Market street; they were loading their revolvers when I first saw them; I followed after them and they shot at me; I still followed them until they entered Dawson’s tannery, and I heard about a dozen shots fired; they came out of the tannery; they then went down to the river; a large number of men from the tannery and others followed them; they (Thielhorns) loaded their revolvers and kept firing at their pursuers; Dawson’s men threw their knives at them and also threw stones; the taller one plunged into the river and the others followed; one of Dawson’s men came up to within about four feet of one of the Thielhorns and cut him on the arm; the Thielhorns then fired at him and fell into the river; I don’t know the name of the man that struck the Thielhorns with the knife; I could not recognize him; stones were thrown at the men in the river; a large number of stones were thrown.

Robert L. Packard testified that he witnessed the scene on the dock