Powell told Rogers that on the day of the tragedy, he and Julia Powell arose earlier than usual. Julia appeared to be more cheerful and in better health than she had been since the start of her sickness, and she was eager to have some butter churned. Powell helped her carry the cream out of the buttery and place it near the stove, so it could be warmed up and softened for the process. He said his wife helped the hired girl prepare breakfast—which she hadn’t felt well enough to do in a while—and that he went to the barn after eating to do his chores. Between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m., he went a third of a mile down the road to his father’s house but insisted he hurried back, “as fast as [he] could,” estimating he had been gone only a half hour. When he returned, Powell said he went inside and looked in the bedroom for Julia but saw that she wasn’t there, so he asked the girl, Barbara, where his wife was. Barbara said Julia had gone to the barn ten minutes before he returned and that she hadn’t seen her since. So supposedly the two of them—the girl and Mr. Powell—began searching for and calling to her.
Photograph by American Colony. From the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
After checking the barn, the icehouse and the wood house near the woods, he headed down the trail to the creek. There, near the creek, he said he saw the footprints of a woman’s shoes in the snow leading directly into the water and “was satisfied she had drowned herself.” Satisfied she had drowned herself? Is that how an innocent man would react upon realizing his wife had just died tragically? He then turned around and started for Mr. Converse’s house, about one hundred yards away and saw that his hired boy had reached his neighbor before him. Powell asked Converse to help him, but when they got halfway between his house and the creek, he stopped and waited at the icehouse as his neighbor continued on to the creek with a rod. Converse poked the rod around in the frigid water until he found the body, about twenty-five feet from the shore. Powell could see a bit of his wife’s body, fully clothed in the brown dress she had last been seen wearing, as it floated to the surface. But he could not bring himself to help his neighbor drag the body to shore. Instead, he opted to wait for others to arrive and let them do the gloomy deed. This bizarre version of events certainly left the district attorney and the officer investigating Julia Powell’s death eager to cross-examine the people involved that morning, beginning with George Powell.
The interview went as follows:
Q: When you concluded she was in the creek, why did you not look for her? Life may not have been extinct.
A: I wanted some person else to do it to make everything straight; if she had been on the surface alive and struggling, I could have gone and brought her out, BUT I COULD NOT SEE HER.
Q: She could only have been in the water a short time; she only went out ten minutes before you arrived?
A: But I went to the woods looking for her. The wood mill is there.
Q: How far are the woods?
A: About 200 rods.
Q: Why did you suppose she had walked so far when she was so weak and when the mill was not working?
A: I don’t know, unless it was because she went there when we were at work and she was well enough.
Q: Well, why did you not help Mr. Converse take her out of the water, instead of making her wait until other help arrived?
A: Because I am very nervous and cannot bear to look upon a corpse, and besides, I wanted somebody else to do it so that I should be cleared. Mr. Converse said I acted right in doing as I did. I faint very easily; if a stick falls in the barn, it frightens me very much.
Q: What have you done with the shotgun and ramrod which was in your bedroom before your wife was drowned?
A: There never was one in my bedroom here, as I have not owned one in twelve years, and to my knowledge, there has not been one in the house.
Q: Mr. Powell, supposed I should prove by several that there was a shotgun in your bedroom during your wife’s illness and that it stood against the bureau?
A: (Excitedly) I can impeach any man who will swear there was.
Q: Do you mean to say that, as a man, you have not sufficient courage to rescue or assist in rescuing from the water the body of the one who was your wife?
A: I could not do it. I also was of the opinion that when a dead body was found it should not be disturbed, and, as I could not see my wife, I supposed she was dead; but a coroner should be called and arrive before it was touched. Mr. Converse said I did right.
Q: Had you ever had any reason from your own observations to believe your wife was very nervous, or did she ever show any symptoms of insanity?
A: No, but Dr. Wauful says she was a very nervous person.
Q: Do you think she was?
A: I suppose so; the Doctor says so.
Q: Do you know it yourself?
A: I am not a Doctor. (He reiterated this last answer every time the question was put.)
Q: Have you always lived happily with your wife?
A: Have been married about fourteen months and have always lived happily.
Q: Can you give any reason why she should have drowned herself?
A: I cannot, unless she was crazy.
The next individual to be questioned was Barbara Zaphf, who said that, in her four weeks working for the Powells, they always seemed to get along well together. She said that when Powell went to his father’s house, “Mrs. P” went out the back door and was gone about five minutes. She came back in and reminded Barbara to put carrots in the butter for coloring, and then she went back out the back door. Ten minutes later, “Mr. P” returned to find his wife missing. The girl said that she called to Mrs. Powell shortly after she left the second time, and getting no response, she went to the barn and looked for her. When she returned to the house and looked out the window, she saw Mr. Powell returning and decided to stop looking until he returned and she could tell him what was going on. The hired boy provided a similar story—all pointing the finger at an alleged suicide. But Mrs. Rees, the sister of Mrs. Powell, told the district attorney that her sister had always claimed to be very happily married in her letters, never giving any indication that she was suicidal. And the marks found on Mrs. Powell’s body pointed to foul play; she didn’t beat her own body with a rod or switch before entering the water. The Re-Union summed it up well, saying:
It certainly was a great mistake on the part of the coroner’s jury not to have had the husband sworn. The neighbors think so, and they also claim that the bureau was locked within fifteen minutes after the body was brought to the house and say that if she did destroy herself, that she left a letter telling the reason. These very people who state that the bureau was locked at the time above mentioned were the ones who assisted in the first part of the last sad duties and also remained until after the inquest. There are also two persons who distinctly remember seeing the shotgun in the bedroom and who say that as soon as the marks were discovered on the body, they immediately thought of the ram-rod of the gun; but it will be seen he denies ever having a gun in the house. He also denied having any knowledge whatever of the marks on the body, had never noticed any, and could not account for any…There appears to be a mystery about the affair which may or may not be solved.
Suffice it to say, the coroner’s inquest was a travesty. And because it was, there was nothing on which to convict George Powell. He may as well have been a saint in the eyes of the law, for he could not be made to pay the price for a death that many who knew him were certain he was somehow responsible for. But Powell was no saint. Less than a year after his wife’s untimely death, George Powell and Dr. George D. Hewitt of Carthage were both arrested by Carthage chief of police Budd and Officer Peter Lyman, respectively, on warrants charging Hewitt with producing an abortion on a young girl named Ella Allen of Carthage and Powell with advising the abortion.
According to the Re-Union of January 18, 1877:
The girl, Ella Allen, on whose complaint for producing abortion, Dr. Hewitt, of Carthage, and George Powell, of Sterlingville, were arrested on Tue
sday last, made complaint in her affidavit, that on or about the 15 day of October, 1876, George Powell had carnal intercourse with her, and also on several occasions subsequently, by which she became pregnant. That on or about the 15th day of December, Powell learned of the fact and proposed to her to have an abortion produced, stating that he would go to Carthage, see Dr. Hewitt, and make arrangements with him for that purpose; that Powell did afterwards go to Carthage, and on his return claimed to have made the proposed arrangements, and provided her with money to pay her board and other expenses while in Carthage, where she went, and procured board and room at the boarding house of Solon Birmingham; that she was visited by Dr. Hewitt on the 29th day of December at her room, at which time he performed an abortion upon her with an instrument with intent to produce miscarriage, and that in consequence of the operation, she was on the fifth day of January delivered of a premature child then dead.
Courtesy of the author.
Less than seven months after his wife’s tragic death under highly suspicious circumstances, George Powell was having intimate relations with the hired help. Ella Allen started working for Powell as a servant girl in the fall of 1876, which makes one wonder what became of Barbara Zaphf, the girl who lived with the Powells at the time of Mrs. Powell’s drowning earlier that year. It seems George Powell held little regard for any female, be it his wife or servants. Had it not been for the young woman becoming seriously ill following the abortion and requiring the services of another physician when Hewitt could not be found, Powell would only have been remembered for a possible connection to the death of his beaten and drowned wife. With the latest revelation, any delusions of his respectability that some previously held for the man were quickly dispelled. Eighteen-year-old Allen insisted she had been “strictly virtuous up to the time of her meeting George Powell.”
The paper continued:
It appears that after Dr. Hewitt’s first visit, he continued to attend her up to the 5th inst., visiting her usually as often as twice a day. On the evening of the 5th, although he had already visited his patient twice that day, he was again sent for as she was unusually ill, but the messenger was unable to find him; consequently Dr. Ferguson was called in, after which the latter continued to visit her. His suspicions being aroused from the girl’s condition, he conferred with Judge Emmes, who visited the girl, and she made a clean breast of the whole matter, and made affidavit before him as above.
The abortion left Miss Allen so devastated that she wanted to kill herself. After attempting to get someone to procure arsenic for her, Dr. Ferguson removed her from the boardinghouse and took her in under his own roof where he could keep a close eye on her. Hewitt and Powell were taken before police justice George O’Leary, waived examination and were committed. Both men were indicted by the grand jury, were arraigned and pleaded not guilty. Hewitt was released on $5,000 bail; and Powell’s bail was set at $2,000. Apparently, Powell didn’t show up at his trial. The Re-Union of February 28, 1878, said that in the case of the People v. George Powell, the defendant neither answered nor appeared when called to the bench, so his bondsmen, Jonathan Powell and Edward Kohler, were ordered to produce him. When they were unable to do so, “it was ordered, on motion of the District Attorney, that the recognizance be forfeited and prosecuted.” Hewitt fared better. According to the May 31, 1877, Re-Union, the jury returned a verdict of not guilty in the case of the People v. George Hewitt. Although I could find no further mention of the prosecution of George Powell for not appearing at his trial, if Hewitt was cleared, there’s a good chance that Powell walked on this one, as well.
CHAPTER 6
THE SPINELESS SHOOTING OF MARY WARD
LERAY, 1893
On Sunday, December 3, 1893, town of LeRay farmer Henry Miles shot and killed Mary Ward with a single, cowardly, pitiless bullet to her back. Ward was a woman with whom he had recently lived “on terms of criminal intimacy,” according to papers of the time. It didn’t take long to determine what led to the atrocity, for Miles assisted a neighbor in carrying the body back into the house before heading to Evans Mills to turn himself in. From the beginning, he told the same story over and over again, unashamedly. Life behind bars or the death penalty would be preferable, as he had been wronged by the only woman he trusted. After all, he told neighbor I. M. Carpenter, who was first at the scene, “they could only ‘electricity’ him.” At the time, he didn’t care if he paid the ultimate penalty.
Henry Miles was the fifty-four-year-old son of Andrew Miles, known around the community for his involvement in a number of lawsuits. Two of Henry’s brothers, Andrew and Baker, lived in the Philadelphia, New York area, and one, an ex-con named Duane Miles, lived somewhere in Jefferson County, having recently been released from State Prison, where he served time for assaulting a little girl. Henry got along fine with Baker, saw little of Duane and couldn’t stand Andrew. Throughout his life, Andrew always seemed to have it in for him. When the family patriarch began failing in health and going blind in 1888, Henry’s parents and the “good” brother, Baker, traveled to Rochester, where Henry was then living, to convince him to return home and claim his share of the family property. They also recommended that he remarry and settle down—again. A marriage to Jane Pelkey of Carthage, which produced two sons, had failed; as did a marriage to Emma Lawrence in Rochester, who left him and entered a “house of ill-fame.” He then married a third woman named Anna Salder, who deserted him one day to also enter a house of ill repute. Yet, even with three failed marriages, on his family’s advice, Henry placed an ad in the Rochester newspaper for another wife and/or housekeeper and received fifty responses. That’s the way he rolled.
Courtesy of the author.
In the first week of January 1890, Mary A. Ward arrived from Rochester to meet Henry and decided right away that she wanted to marry him. But he declined, saying he didn’t feel her health was good enough for the work of a farm wife. The following week, Mercy Ann Corp showed up at his door and insisted he marry her, and he obliged. That relationship—his fourth marriage—ended due to domestic violence but not before producing a baby girl. District Attorney Kellogg said that Corp “had been turned into the street with her babe with not a cent to support her, and not a roof to shelter her.” She moved to Watertown but never officially divorced Henry, although she was legally separated from him.
Kellogg later told the jury:
On the first day of November in that year, he did recover of his father’s property, amounting in value to $5,000, consisting of a farm in the rich town of Philadelphia and the utensils and implements to carry it on…We shall show you that he came from Rochester to move upon that farm and to take possession thereof, bringing with him and introducing as his wife a woman [Mercy Corp] who shortly after left him with wounded heart and bruised limbs. We shall show you that shortly after, he traded the farm that he received of his father for a farm known as the McCrea farm, containing 111 acres; the last place in the town of LeRay, on the road from Evans Mills to Ox-Bow.
At the time of the property trade, and as a condition of the purchase price of the McCrea farm, Henry had no choice but to execute a mortgage on the farm to his brother, Andrew. When Andrew foreclosed on the property, Henry knew he would lose his home and farm, unless he could convince someone to buy it and let him still live there. The answer seemed obvious: he would pay a visit to Rochester and see if Mary A. Ward was still available. She had shown an interest in marrying Henry, if ever his marriage to Mercy ended. And, as luck would have it, she had saved about $1,500 to someday put toward purchasing her own home.
Henry described the breakup of his marriage to Mercy Corp and the introduction of Mary A. Ward, a widow of about fifty, into the picture in his statement to the Watertown Herald, which was published in the December 9, 1893 edition:
When she arrived there, my wife and I were milking in the dooryard by the woods. She asked me if I had married yet, and I told her that I had and pointed out my wife to her. She then said I would never live with
her [the wife] and that I would want another wife. I merely laughed and said I thought not. “If you don’t live with that woman, will you remember me,” she asked; and I replied that I would. Mrs. Ward then came back to Philadelphia [N.Y.] and returned to Rochester. I lived with my wife until the following September, and then she went to Canada, where she remained four months. She then came back with her child, which was born during her absence. From Jan. 1, 1891, until September, she lived with me. She then went to Watertown to have me arrested on a charge of non-support. However, no warrant was issued, and I was not arrested.
I now sold my household goods and started for Chicago. I remained there only two weeks, when the thought came to me that my brother might try to beat me out of my property, upon which he held a mortgage, and so I started for home. From Chicago, I went to Rochester, and there met the Ward woman again. I related the circumstances regarding the mortgage on my property to her [and] told her also that the farm contained 111 acres, valued at $45 to $50 an acre. The mortgage was for $3,100, and I told her that I thought I could get my neighbors not to bid on it, and if I succeeded in that, it could be purchased for about the value of the mortgage. She said she wanted a home, and I re-echoed her sentiments. An understanding was then reached between us, that in case the property could be purchased, she and I would always live together and own equal shares in the property, and to the one surviving, the estate should descend.
Hence, a fateful deal was struck with Anna Ward to buy the property and live with Henry Miles as his housekeeper and his intimate companion (since he was still legally married to Mercy Ann Corp). Anna had been married to Philip Ward, a war veteran, for ten years until his death in 1874, at which point she lived off of the twelve dollars per month she received as a soldier’s widow, as well as her dressmaking business. According to the Watertown Re-Union, Ward was a “woman of fair and ordinary intelligence, comely in person, but irascible and exasperating in temper.” The middle-aged woman was well proportioned and weighed 165 pounds. She had “a rich growth of dark hair, blue eyes, and the characteristic face of an Irish woman and was fairly good looking.”
Murder & Mayhem in Jefferson County Page 5