Month: May 2018

Programs such as Law and Order and CSI have acquainted most people with modern techniques for solving crimes. But for most of our past, sleuths did as much as they could to investigate crimes, but they lacked the most basic tools. There wasn’t much the sheriff, part-time constable, justice of the peace, and coroner could do, except rely on obvious physical evidence and witnesses. However, as the scientific age arrived, great advances in police science allowed detectives to crack complex cases. This one-hour program draws on notorious crimes and real mysteries from yesteryear.  It discusses how science, technology, and professional police practices helped detectives catch and convict criminals and close once unsolvable cases.

It was a gruesome, emotionally draining responsibility, one most officials preferred to elude on their watch, but occasionally the Salem County Executioner had to carry out a hanging. Once the wheels of justice turned and the bench handed down the death warrant the ghastly duty, dispatching a condemned man, fell to the sheriff in New Jersey before 1906.

The delivery of the deathblow required experience, along with a great deal of technical skill and logistical planning. The executioner had to calculate the precise length of a rope and tie the proper hangman’s knot, hoping that after he accurately took in consideration the physique of the prisoner, the body weight snapped the neck, so death came instantly. Regrettably, in the annals of the criminal justice system in the United States and New Jersey executions were sometimes botched. If the fall was too long the person’s head could be severed during the drop from the gallows or if it was too short prolonged strangulation might result  ((Sarat, Austin. Gruesome Spectacles: Botched Executions and Americas Death Penalty. Stanford, CA: Stanford Law Books, 2016.))

Certainly, it was a burdensome obligation that concerned the official designated to serve as county hangman. Furthermore, the always practical, thrifty caretakers of the public treasury, the Board of Freeholders, fretted about the cost.

Before the 19th century, Salem County’s hangman kept in practice, putting to death at least eleven convicts. The last one in that age took place on June 20, 1775, when Ceasar and Kile, two murderers, were put to death at Gallow Hill at Clayville. ((Hearn, Daniel Allen, Legal Executions in New Jersey: A Comprehensive, MacFarland & Co.: Jefferson, N.C., 2005))

Executing Samuel T. Treadway

Seventy-eight years passed before the justices issued another death warrant. All practical knowledge of the required skills had faded with the passage of generations, the old hanging ropes having long since rotted or disappeared (perhaps taken off in pieces for souvenirs), and who knew what happened to the gallows.

Finding someone who knew how to prepare the rope, tie the hangman’s knot, place the noose at the proper position on the neck, and build the scaffold so swift death resulted, while also complying with evolving New Jersey Law, was a challenge. Whatever the case, the burden next fell on Sheriff Samuel Plummer to carry out the ultimate penalty of justice on March 1, 1853.

Samuel T. Treadway had been convicted of murdering his wife, and on the day he paid the price for the crime the county seat was overflowing with people. To provide security at the jail and around the City, the death guard consisted of sixteen special deputies, eleven county constables, and the entire municipal police force.

Early that Tuesday morning in the jail five ministers attended to Treadway’s spiritual needs and hymns were sung until the door opened and he came face to face with his executioner. After bidding farewell to the clergymen, the prisoner ascended the scaffold with a firm step and cheerful countenance, newspapers reported. The sheriff began his routine, positioning the convict, strapping his legs together, and tightening a noose around his neck. Then the hangman read the death warrant to the convict, and a final prayer was offered by Rev. McWiddemer, who had attended the convict on the scaffold. Finally, the black hood was drawn over his head. The drop fell at precisely 12:30, the prisoner dying almost instantaneously without a struggle when he fell about four feet ((Salem County Freeholders, 1976.))

The ultimate penalty of law had been paid, and Sheriff Plummer had discharged his duties in the most careful, professional manner. He had been assisted by Sheriff Stiles of Cumberland County and Sheriff Eyles of Gloucester. Doctors Gibbon, Reeve, Dickinson and Cook were in attendance. The body was suspended about three-quarters of an hour, during which time the prison doors were thrown open and hundreds of people viewed the remains.

Sheriff Plummer was proud of his work. He traveled to Philadelphia afterward, but couldn’t get a room in a hotel, to which he remarked to the clerk: “I am the high sheriff of Salem County. I hung Treadway, and I want a room.” The clerk responded, “If you were the sheriff of hell and hung the devil it wouldn’t make a difference to me. There are no rooms in this hotel.” ((Salem County Freeholders, 1976 ))

With a successful execution completed, city newspapers, which had featured the story for days, moved along to other headline-grabbing events so all that remained to be done was for the Board of Freeholders to carefully tally up the cost, which took $227.05 out of the treasury (over $7,000 in today’s money). The hangman, Sheriff Plummer, was paid $150 for his services and the carpenter received $52.43, which included spending two days in Philadelphia and 13 ½ days work on the scaffold. The coffin cost $8.00 and the rope was $5.00. The final shave cost the county $1.62. The scaffold had been built by Levi Dubree, upon the most improved plan, and put in the jail yard Monday afternoon ((Salem County Freeholders, 1976))

Executing Howard Sullivan

Thirty-one more years passed before the ultimate penalty of law had to be paid again. When Howard Sullivan was hanged on Dec. 2, 1884, it was the closing act of a shocking tragedy that started when young Ella Watson was murdered near Yorktown on Aug. 18, 1884. For a time, the murder was shrouded in mystery, but the vigilance of Pinkerton Detectives involved in working up the case unraveled it.

The trial was underway as the county prepared to elect new officials, and the Philadelphia Record reported that office of sheriff would go a begging for a candidate if Sullivan was convicted. However, Killer Bill Reeves, “well known to many Salem Countains and for some time past employed at the Market Street Ferry” wrote, offering to stand in for the sheriff and do the job. ((National Standard, The Last Days of Sullivan, Nov. 5, 1884 p. 3 )),((National Standard, Sullivan, Salem, NJ, Nov. 24, 1884 p. 3)) ((National Standard, Salem, NJ, The Murderer Sullivan at Liberty, Dec. 5, 1884 p. 3))

After the campaigning was over, Sheriff Kelty assumed the office shortly before the grim task of executing the dreaded sentence had to be performed. The Monitor added that with the election behind the people, and the senatorial recount finished the next excitement was going to be the execution of Howard Sullivan. However, building up to this, officials had lots of work to do. As the county had not carried out a hanging since 1853, they sought advice from Philadelphia, where executions were performed much more frequently. The scaffold had been stored in the garret of the courthouse, waiting until it was next needed. But when someone went to look for the old relic it was not found where it had been so long stored, nor anywhere else. It had disappeared as thirty-one years passed quickly by ((Salem Sunbeam, Local Affairs, Nov. 24, 1884)) ((Salem Sunbeam, A Terrible Crime Expiated:  Execution of Howard L. Sullivan, Dec. 5, 1884))

Not having a gallows, Sheriff Kelty first thought he would have J. S. McCune build one, but instead he applied to the warden of Moyamensing Prison in Philadelphia, asking if he could loan his gallows. The request was granted, and “the grim looking affair, with a terrible history,” was shipped to Salem. From its trap door every murderer who had been executed in Philadelphia within a period of thirty to forty-years had swung into eternity, a Philadelphia paper reported. It worked very well in Philadelphia, but whether Sheriff Kelty would be successful in operating it remained to be seen the paper added. ((The Times, Pennsylvania: Philadelphia, Nov. 29, 1884 p. 1))  . Prison Carpenter Ford of Moyamensing, came along to erect the scaffold and instruct the sheriff in how to spring the trap of the scaffold and make the noose for Sullivan’s neck.

In addition to procuring a scaffold, the county put up a temporary building for the execution in the rear of the Surrogate’s Office. ((The Monitor, Woodstown, NJ. Nov. 24, 1884. P. 3))  It had been erected to hide the gallows from public view.

Sullivan almost cheated the gallows, coming near to escaping from Salem County’s Death Row or its equivalent, a cell on the third floor of the prison. He managed to get out on the roof one night in time to witness the Democratic torchlight parade. But his escape was defeated, saving “outraged justice its due, the authorities a great deal of trouble, and the county considerable expense, and the community an experience of anxiety and commotion.”  ((National Standard, Salem, NJ, The Murderer Sullivan at Liberty, Dec. 5, 1884 p. 3))

On his last night, Deputies James Cooke and William Clifton, sat outside his cell, serving as the death watch. He stayed up much of the night singing, praying, and conversing with the guards. That morning when the death warrant was read, the seventeen-year-old was the coolest man in the party, according to city newspapers. His two spiritual advisers and ex-Sheriff Coles, accompanied him to the scaffold, where he made an address. “I say goodbye to you all and thank those who have had charge of me for their kindness.“ Noting that “It is very sad for Sheriff Kelty to do it, but he must. If he failed in his duty he would be prosecuted and turned out of office,” the teenager concluded as he said he was ready to go. ((Salem Sunbeam, A Terrible Crime Expiated:  Execution of Howard L. Sullivan, Dec. 5, 1884))

Under a strict, new state law, the hanging could be witnessed by no more than thirty-seven people. In this group were the Reverends. Wilson Peterson of Yorktown and Richard Miles of Salem, Prosecutor Slape, Judge Plummer, the jurors appointed by the court, and newspaper reporters. Notwithstanding the declaration from the sheriff that few people would be admitted and the unfavorable weather, an “anxious, curious throng filled the pavement for some distance and good-naturedly jostled each other in their attempts to see and hear something of the act being committed inside the temporary building. Mayor Lawson had the entire city police force on duty about the jail, keeping order and although considerable excitement prevailed, no disturbances of any kind occurred. ((National Standard, Salem, NJ, The Murderer Sullivan at Liberty, Dec. 5, 1884 p. 3))

On the scaffold after the prayers, his hands fastened with handcuffs behind him and his legs strapped, Constable Buckalew put the noose around his neck and slipped the black cap over his head. At 11:29 exactly the drop fell, and he was pronounced dead in three minutes without a struggle. The body was allowed to hang for half-an-hour before it was cut down and placed in the coffin to be conveyed in the wagon of undertaker Turner to Bushtown for burial.

Although not very experienced with such matters, Salem County once again handled the troublesome task. Too much credit cannot be awarded Sheriff Kelty and his able assistant ex-sheriff Cole for the excellent management of the details of the execution, the Sunbeam remarked. The rope had been furnished by Edwin H. Fuller & Co. of Philadelphia, who had supplied all used for this purpose in Pennsylvania for many years, and it came with the regular hangman’s knot already tied. After the final blow had been delivered, the gallows had to be rushed back to Philadelphia as it was needed in the City. Relic hunters besieged Sheriff Kelly for pieces of the rope. The Board of Freeholders, however, wrangled with officials and claimants about bills related to the hanging, as well as the reward for information leading to a conviction.

Electrocutions Substituted for Hanging

The General Assembly enacted the state’s first comprehensive criminal act in 1796 and the statute expressly provided that the crime of murder was punishable by death and the sheriff was to execute condemned criminals by hanging. In 1835, the Legislature also enacted a law prohibiting public executions. A significant change on April 4, 1906, substituted electrocution for hanging and relieved the county sheriff of carrying out the act as executions were centralized within the state prison system.  ((Martin, R. J. (2009). Killing Capital Punishment in New Jersey: The First State in Modern History to Repeal Its Death Penalty Statute. Retrieved October 13, 2017, from https://works.bepress.com/robert_martin/1/))

And with the change in the death penalty law in New Jersey, the County’s top lawman, the Salem County Executioner, never again had to carry out the dreaded task, nor did the freeholders have to bother with the cost of executing a convict. Episodes in the history of the criminal justice system in the county had passed into history.

Note:  This article was originally published in Salem County Historical Society Quarterly, Winter 2017