According to George Walling’s account, Hamill “ran over to the great store, a block up Fourth Avenue, rushing breathless into the glass office, only to find that Judge Hilton had not yet arrived. The sexton did not wait. He at once called a cab and drove to the judge’s house, next door to Stewart’s marble palace on Thirty-fourth Street. He gave the butler a message that his business was of extreme urgency, and the master of the house soon made his appearance.”
According to newspaper accounts, Hamill ran to Hilton’s office.
“The vault has been robbed, sir,” Hamill told Hilton. “Mr. Stewart’s body has been taken away! I am sorry.”
Hilton didn’t respond. He stared quizzically at the distraught sexton, then fell back down into a chair without saying a word.
“All gone. No traces left as I can see,” Hamill said, fidgeting with his hat as he stood before Hilton.
“You say you are sorry such a thing should happen?” Hilton suddenly asked. His tone and demeanor were prosecutorial in nature and made Hamill uncomfortable.
“Why, yes, sir. Very sorry, of course,” Hamill said.
“Sorry?” Hilton repeated acerbically. “That’s singular.”
“Singular?” Hamill replied. He had an idea what was running through Hilton’s mind, and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Will you come over and look for yourself, sir?” Hamill asked.
“No. I’ll go down to police headquarters,” Hilton snapped.
Hilton grabbed his coat and top hat, called for a coach, and left Hamill standing alone in the room. After Hilton bolted out the front door, Hamill made his way back to the churchyard.
Meeting up with Parker outside the vault, Hamill reportedly muttered, “Sexton right here for twenty years and a member of the church and living an upright life, to be suspected now of this horrid thing!”
Hilton raced into police headquarters calling loudly for Superintendent George Walling, but Walling was not there. Instead Hilton was met by New York City Police Commissioner Sidney P. Nichols.
“Someone has robbed the Stewart vault,” Hilton exclaimed.
Nichols seemed indifferent to the news and to the angry and disconcerted Hilton. “Well, they’ve made a good haul then,” Nichols said.
Hilton tried to explain that it wasn’t Stewart’s money that was stolen, it was his body—out of the grave at St. Mark’s.
It took a minute for the gruesome account to set in with Nichols. When he realized what Hilton was talking about, Nichols began shouting out orders to the men stationed at headquarters. He would, he informed Hilton, take charge of the investigation himself. Nichols assigned two of his top detectives to the case—William Murray and George W. Dilks—both veteran investigators.
But Hilton had more to tell. He was positive in his suspicion that one of the sextons was somehow involved in the grave robbery. And he had some history to tell.
“You don’t know, I suppose, that an attempt was made to steal the body last month? Yes. On October 9th, just four weeks ago,” Hilton said.
Hilton went on to explain, “The sexton discovered that the Stewart slab had been lifted from its bed and put back again. It had been done clumsily, and one end of the marble had been dropped on the grass; perhaps the intruders had descended to the vault, but neither the casket nor the brick pedestal on which it rested had been tampered with. I discovered clay on the lock of the Eleventh-Street gate, like that over the vault, and I had new patent locks put on the gate, and the name-slab, which was before exposed, taken up and removed to a vacant spot some ten feet south-west and sunk in the grass to mislead other ghouls. The old place was carefully sodded over. I then hired Michael Bruton, night-watchman of the livery stable across the street, to visit the churchyard every hour and warn trespassers from the enclosure, without saying anything to him about Stewart’s vault. There was no disturbance, and Burton’s services were dispensed with three days ago.”
Nichols was immediately drawn into the intrigue that Hilton described.
“I can’t imagine how anybody knew where that stone was. Its approximate location was known to three of us only, and even I, who knew it best, couldn’t have gone straight to it the first time, on a dark night, as these villains seem to have done. They must have obtained perfect measurements of the place. Perhaps they were watching from a convenient nook when we took up the name stone and hid it,” Hilton said.
It had been raining the night of the robbery, and a light snow had fallen around midnight. No one in any of the houses that bordered the churchyard reported seeing anything suspicious. The grave robbers had come in the middle of the night and went straight to Stewart’s vault in the pitch dark. Nichols entertained the idea that perhaps Hilton was onto something. Maybe it was an “inside job.” He sent for George Hamill.
In the meantime, Inspector Dilks issued a police bulletin.
To All:—The remains of A. T. Stewart were last night stolen from the family vault, St. Mark’s Churchyard. The casket was found broken and the body removed. The decomposition of the remains is so offensive that they cannot be concealed. This is apparent from standing at the opening of the vault this morning; consequently the body cannot be taken across the ferries or placed anywhere above ground without discovery. Cause diligent search to be made in your precinct, as the remains were evidently stolen in hope of reward.
—police bulletin, November 7, 1878 by George W. Dilks
As Hilton had told Nichols, it was not the first time robbers had tried to steal Stewart’s body. On the morning of October 9, 1878, St. Mark’s sextons Hamill and Parker discovered that the slab covering Stewart’s burial vault had been tampered with during the night. Someone had lifted the slab and dropped it. Hamill and Parker found the slab laying upright, one end stuck in the grass as if it had been suddenly dropped. When informed of the attempt, Hilton examined the vault and, after inspecting the churchyard, discovered clay similar to the kind found on the gate leading out of the churchyard onto Eleventh Avenue. Hilton surmised that the thieves had somehow been thwarted in their attempt and escaped over the gate. He immediately ordered new locks installed on all the gates. As he had informed Commissioner Nichols, he hired a night watchman to stand guard over the vault. Hilton had taken great pains to instruct Hamill not to reveal to the night watchman the identity of whose vault he was guarding. He also instructed Hamill and Parker to tell no one about the attempted robbery. Hilton left Hamill explicit instructions to keep the watchman on until near the end of the month, but Hamill discharged the watchman nearly a week early claiming that there was no further need to stand guard since no further robbery attempts had been made and that he and Sexton Parker would take turns checking on the vault.
THE GHOUL’S FIRST ATTEMPT
On the morning of Oct. 9 the sexton of St. Mark’s, George W. Hamill, and his assistant, Francis Parker, discovered that the Stewart slab had been tampered with during the preceding night. Somebody had lifted it from its bed in the grass and had evidently let it drop in a hurry, as one end of it lay upraised on the grass and the other was sunk down into the soil. There seems to be no doubt, in the light of yesterday’s discoveries, that an attempt was then made to steal the body, and that the robbers were frightened away just as they had got fairly to work.
—New York Times
November 8, 1878
According to testimony provided to the police by Hamill and Parker, they had been in the habit of opening the churchyard grounds at 8 a.m., and each would spend part of their day on duty at the church or patrolling the grounds. Neither Hamill nor Parker reported seeing anyone suspicious in or around the churchyard the previous day. At dusk, the police were informed, the gates to the churchyard were locked and both sextons went home.
Three police foot patrols passed the churchyard the night of the grave robbery. They were regularly scheduled patrols, and no one reported seeing anythi
ng out of the ordinary that night. One patrol covered Fourteenth Street to Houston. Another went along East Tenth and Stuyvesant Streets. And the third patrol covered East Eleventh Street, from Avenue B to Fourth Avenue. If there was anything to be seen, it was assumed one of the patrols would have seen it.
The shift for the patrols ran from 6 p.m. until midnight and from midnight until 6 a.m. Police officers Maurice Reed, John Leddy, Henry Buckers, and Daniel McInerney were on duty the night of the robbery and, when questioned by their supervisors, said they saw nothing suspicious the night before. St. Mark’s was surrounded by rows of large and well-appointed homes, and almost none of the residents reported seeing anything strange the night before, with one exception. Dr. William Rausch, a dentist whose home was on the corner of Tenth Street and Second Avenue, told the police that he returned home around midnight the night before. It was a stormy night with rain and sleet. He told the police that he rushed from his carriage to his doorstep, where he fumbled with the keys for his front door. He said that despite the darkness and the nature of the weather, he happened to notice four or five men shrouded in darkness gathered near the cemetery fence. He could not make out who they were or any of their characteristics since he only saw them briefly. He told the police he was in a hurry to get inside and paid no further attention to the men. Rausch was the only person to come forward with information regarding anything unusual the night before.
Sexton Parker told the police that he had locked the churchyard gates at 4 p.m. the night before and that he returned an hour later. The Rev. Dr. J. H. Rylance, the rector of St. Mark’s, performed a quiet marriage ceremony around 9:30 p.m. in the vestry of the church. The service ended at 10 p.m., and Parker locked the vestry and took one last walk through the churchyard on his way to the Stuyvesant Street main entrance. There, he locked the main gate behind him and went home. Nothing at that time had been disturbed in the churchyard. The next morning he opened the churchyard gates as usual and discovered the gruesome sight.
Police Commissioner Nichols commandeered a contingency of police officers and detectives, along with Judge Hilton and the city coroner, and converged on the churchyard. Every inch of the grounds was searched. Along with the bit of rope and newspaper discovered previously, the police turned up a small galvanized shovel that the robbers had used to do their dirty work and a small lantern.
The robbers had five coffins from which to choose Knowing that Stewart’s coffin was the newest, the robbers went straight to it. In their haste they had stepped on one of the older coffins, crushing it and exposing its contents of bones. Since it had been Stewart’s expressed wish that nothing of value be buried with him, there were no salable items inside the coffin. The handles of the casket and paneling were made of inexpensive gilded metal. The inscription plate, which was inside the casket, was made of solid silver, and it had been taken.
The police surmised that the robbers had used a large waterproof bag to transport Stewart’s remains. According to the coroner, although Stewart’s body was not embalmed, it would have remained in a preserved state until it was exposed to air. It then would have begun to liquefy, producing a putrid smell. The smell still permeated the vault as the police inspected it the next morning.
The Police say that burglars are very superstitious and that not one in a thousand can be induced to enter a graveyard at night. The nerve displayed by the robbers of Mr. Stewart’s grave accordingly surprises and puzzles them, but not half so much as their ability to endure the dreadful stench which they must have encountered. This was so horrible yesterday morning as to sicken strong men standing in the open air near the mouth of the vault.
—New York Times
November 8, 1878
The police were at a loss to explain how the robbers carried off the liquefied, putrid-smelling body of Stewart without attracting any attention. There were no footprints despite the rain-drenched grounds, and there were no clues as to where the robbers left the churchyard. Climbing over the iron spiked fence seemed doubtful. The locks on the various gates leading in and out of the churchyard showed no evidence of tampering.
If the police were stymied in determining how the robbers pulled off their dirty deed, they had their theory as to why. The robbers, they believed, hoped to get a ransom for the return of the body. According to the coroner, Stewart’s remains could be hidden away anywhere for any period of time, concealed in an unobtrusive airtight box until the robbers were ready to exchange the remains for money.
Although Judge Hilton and his partner William Libbey had openly stated that they would not pay any ransom, the robbers might have been counting on Cornelia Stewart to acquiesce. Mrs. Stewart, it had been reported, was intent on building a magnificent mausoleum in Garden City where she intended to place her husband’s remains. If anyone might pay a handsome ransom for the return of the Stewart bones, she would.
Despite the lack of clues, the police boasted that the investigation would be brief and that the culprits would be apprehended shortly. According to the police, it would be difficult to move the body in its condition without arousing suspicion. They intended to track down the criminals, perhaps by following the stinking trail left by Stewart’s rotting corpse. Concealing the bones was one thing. Hiding the smell, even if the thieves had an “airtight” box, was another thing entirely.
As the investigation continued, tiny bits of information began to surface, propelled perhaps by the reward that Judge Hilton offered in the newspapers.
$25,000 Reward!—Whereas, in the early morning of Nov. 7, 1878, the vault of the late Alexander T. Stewart, in St. Mark’s Churchyard, in this city, was broken into, and his remains removed from there, the above reward is offered by direction of Mrs. A. T. Stewart, and will be paid for the return of the body and information which will convict the parties who were engaged in the outrage. Or a liberal reward will be paid for information which will lead to either of these results.
—Judge Henry Hilton, —New York Times
November 9, 1878
An unidentified man then came forward to report seeing a covered, two-horse carriage near the church entrance that evening. The carriage was parked beneath a lighted street lamp, and the witness hadn’t initially noticed anything significant about it. As the news reports began coming out, the witness decided to report it to the police.
Another witness reported to the police that he observed several men carrying a long box or trunk up Ninth Street around 2:30 a.m. the morning of the robbery. He told the police that all the men carrying the box were wearing topcoats with capes and sporting top hats or derbies. The witness merely passed off the incident as some drunken party engaged in harmless shenanigans, until he read about the robbery.
There were gas-lit street lamps on each corner of the main streets that bounded St. Mark’s, which meant the area would have been fairly well-lighted, and yet no one saw anything of the robbery itself. Slowly, the police began to patch together a scenario for the grave robbery. Since none of the locks on the churchyard gates had been tampered with, the police believed that the robbers must have had a key to unlock the gates. Where they might have come by such a key was anyone’s guess, but the supposition lent credence to Hilton’s initial belief that it was an inside job, with one or both of the St. Mark’s sextons involved. Only the sextons would have had keys to the gates. The police also surmised that the robbers must have dug down into the vault lying on their stomachs to avoid being seen. Since there were no headstones or obstructions in the churchyard—simply wide open spaces where anyone could have been seen in the light from the sidewalk gas lamps—it was the only way the robbers could have dug into the vault without being detected. Also, the small galvanized shovel that had been left behind was too small to have been used by a man standing up. It was not the typical spade used for grave digging. All together, given what the police surmised, they believed it would have taken the robbers approximately an hour or more to dig into the
Stewart vault.
The first day of the investigation, Henry Hilton stayed with the police at the churchyard. As time passed, Hilton grew more impatient. He became indignant when pressed by the police and newspaper reporters about the possibility of paying a ransom for the return of the body. He was further agitated when reporters suggested that the thieves broke into Stewart’s vault to steal silver, gold, or even diamonds that might have been buried with Stewart. Hilton bristled at the suggestion.
“Mr. Stewart was buried with the same simplicity that characterized his life,” Hilton said.
When questioned by reporters, William Libbey expressed disbelief at the crime.
“I am at a loss to understand it, unless money was at the bottom of it,” Libbey said.
He told reporters that he and Judge Hilton were prepared to spend whatever it might take to capture the robbers but “not one cent to them for the return of what they have taken.”
Newspapers from the city and around the country had a field day. Page after page of front-page stories were published focusing on everything from the hard facts of the case to the rash of gossip regarding the theft of Stewart’s body.
STARTLING
The Late A.T. Stewart’s
Remains Stolen
An Astounding Grave Robbery—One of
the Most Daring and Ghastly Deeds on
Bag of Bones Page 11