Soon after the murder, the county coroner, J.D. Cantwell, held an inquest at the McCausland Town Hall. The room was packed with people who were curious about what would come out during the questioning. There were several people who, finding there was no space for them, watched through the doorway or looked in through the windows.
One of the standout witnesses during the inquest was Mae Garber’s seven-year-old son, Lloyd. He told the assembled crowd about the poor relationship between his mother and Olive Adkins. The young boy went on to relate the events of June 10 and 11. Lloyd also explained that William Funk had not been at the house that night. He said that entire weeks would go by without Funk ever being there. The last time had been the previous week, when Funk had stopped by to borrow an umbrella.
Garber’s twelve-year-old daughter, Norma, corroborated her brother’s testimony.
However, although many facts matched up, there were some contradicting stories. An employee at the McCausland Savings Bank, who had watched the fight from the front steps, said that Olive Adkins was not attacking Garber when she was shot but was rather standing still. Others had different versions of where Garber’s gun came from.
Also, several people around town claimed to have seen William Funk and Garber together on several occasions. Many of Garber’s neighbors also stated that they had seen Funk at her home many times, including the night that Olive Adkins had tried to gain entry. And there were some who whispered of even darker rumors. Some said that Olive had an affair with Garber’s older daughter, who was married to a local man who ran the bowling alley in town. When the husband found out about it, he gathered his family and moved away. It was soon after that that Funk had approached Mae and befriended her.
The McCausland Savings Bank. An employee watched Mae Garber shoot Olive Adkins from the front steps. Author’s collection.
The fight between Mae Garber and Olive Adkins took place in this area along Selina Street in McCausland. Author’s collection.
But rumor is not necessarily fact. People can whisper anything they want, whether what they are saying is true or not. Regardless of whose side they were on, many people in town signed a petition banning both William Funk and Mae Garber from Olive Adkins’s funeral. They had probably had enough of the trouble caused by the relationship and perhaps felt that Adkins at least deserved a peaceful burial.
The county attorney charged Mae Garber with second-degree murder. The trial was to be held in November 1916. During that trial, many witnesses testified as to what they had seen that day. By and large, their testimony put Garber in a positive light, and at the conclusion of the trial, she was acquitted. It had once and for all been determined that the shooting had been done in self-defense and that Mae’s actions were completely justified.
The little town moved on with life, as it always had. The peace and quiet so prevalent in the small town before the murder returned. What the residents thought of those involved with the crime was no longer relevant. The courts had found the former postmistress innocent, and besides, Mae Garber, her children and William Funk had all moved out of town, which helped the residents to forget about the events of the summer of 1916.
Although it was the decision of the court and the ultimate opinion of the townspeople that Mae Garber did not willfully intend to kill Olive Adkins, there were still many witnesses who had seen Mae and William together. This included seeing them at Garber’s home. Could they have had a secret relationship that they did not want to talk about? Had William, fed up with Olive’s addictions, sought love elsewhere and found it with the postmistress?
There was no substantial proof of any of this, and once it was found that there had been no premeditation in the murder of Olive Adkins, none of the murders mattered anymore. Eventually, Garber and Funk both moved out of McCausland, first Funk and then Garber and her two children.
Sometime later, it was discovered that Funk had changed his name and moved back to Wisconsin. A short time later, Garber moved to the same town, where the two were married. In a letter to the Davenport Democrat and Leader, Funk explained that they had moved to a place where they were respected and, with new surroundings and a new name, they could start over.
Had there been something between them in Iowa, or had they fallen in love after events drove them closer together? Over one hundred years later, the truth behind that particular part of the matter will probably never be known. All that can be known for sure is that a woman, driven by her personal demons and by jealousy, attacked her rival, whom she blamed for stealing her precious mate, and was shot dead in self-defense on a long-ago summer day.
CHAPTER 5
BLOOD DEBT
It was cold that early February morning as the men set out for work. Many of them were originally from Armenia, a small country in Eastern Europe. Like so many had before them, these men were running from something bad in the old country, looking to capture a piece of the prosperity and peace that America had to offer or both. They had come, either directly or indirectly, to Bettendorf, Iowa. These men had found work in various positions within the Bettendorf Company, the economic powerhouse that served as the driving force for many things within the various communities of the city.
Although normally peaceful men who went to the shops, worked hard and then returned home after a long day, this morning the men were angry, incensed over a scene they had watched play out before their very eyes in front of the local boardinghouse. The workers had determined they were going to put an end to the grisly happenings going on there, and they began to make their way toward the perpetrator of the crime.
The man standing in the yard turned, faced them and raised his pistol toward them. He warned the workers not to come any closer. Cautious of the weapon, they stopped, watching the armed man warily. Without knowing, the group of Armenian men had inadvertently stumbled upon what was to become one of the most sensational crimes of 1921.
WHEN WILLIAM BETTENDORF HAD decided to settle in the rural town of Gilbert in 1902, he was looking for a fresh start. When he was in his early twenties, he had worked for a plow company in Peru, Illinois. A natural inventor, his keen mind had perceived a need among farmers. In the plows being manufactured at the plant, farmers, plowing a furrow across their farm field, would have to stop at the end of the row and physically lift the plow blade out of the row. Then, they would have to turn the plow around and lower the blade again in order to start the next row. Needless to say, this was very physically intensive and time consuming.
William designed and built a new plow that, by pulling a lever that activated a series of gears, would mechanically lift the plow out of the furrow. The farmer would then turn the plow around, pull the lever again and begin the next row, all without having to get off the plow. It saved a great deal of time and energy by taking the old design and making it more efficient for the end user.
The Peru Plow Company, the firm that William worked for, agreed to manufacture his new plow design. William held on to the patent, and his new invention became extremely popular around the country.
The next thing that William did was, putting it simply, redesign the wheel. The standard metal wheel of that era had several metal spokes that connected the metal rim to the hub of the wheel. The wire was simply welded into place on the surface of those areas. Unfortunately, this caused the welds to break and the spokes to fall out. Eventually, this would render the wheel useless. Bettendorf decided that by drilling holes in the hub and then attaching the spokes inside, it would make the wheel stronger. He was right. Once again, the firm he worked for agreed to manufacture it. It was even more popular than his plow had been. The Bettendorf Metal Wheel, as it came to be known, sold so well that the company changed its name to the Peru Plow and Wheel Company.
However, William and the company began to disagree on how the wheel should be manufactured and how to best meet the increasing demand for it. The two parties were unable to resolve their differences, so William set out on his own.
He came to Davenport,
Iowa, with his younger brother, Joseph, and founded the Bettendorf Metal Wheel Company, close to the Mississippi River. The fledgling operation not only survived in the competitive industrial world but thrived. It was tremendously successful, and the factory itself grew until it became the largest in the entire city.
But in early 1902, tragedy struck. The factory suffered two devastating fires only a few months apart. Production was halted, and the future of the company was called into question. If the company was going to continue, which William was determined it would, he would have to relocate.
Before the fires, William had received offers to relocate to the nearby city of East Moline, Illinois. And there was always the option of clearing out all the rubble and rebuilding directly in Davenport. While he was pondering the issue, William was approached by a friend, C.A. Ficke, who offered another option.
Ficke, a former Davenport mayor, owned some land in a small town just east of Davenport by the name of Gilbert. It was near the riverfront and offered a lot of room to expand. It was a great place for a fresh start. William and Ficke approached the town, which was excited about the idea of having such a large factory located right in town. A short time later, William started construction of his new Bettendorf Company plant there.
As he grew the factory, William made sure to grow the town as well. He put significant funds into developing local businesses and building new houses. He also built a hotel where traveling workers could stay until houses of their own could be built for them. As the citizens had taken care of him, William took care of them in turn.
The town, in gratitude, renamed the booming town Bettendorf, after its benefactor.
By 1905, business was positively booming for the Bettendorf Company. After the invention of the Bettendorf Truck, a newly designed railroad car truck invented by William, industry demands for it allowed William to focus solely on railroad car parts and stop manufacturing wagon pieces, including his famous metal wheel.
William died suddenly in 1910, and his younger brother Joseph took over. The factory continued on, growing in wealth and prosperity.
In 1914, a young Mexican by the name of David Macias came to Bettendorf. He had arrived on official business for the company he worked for but liked America so much that he decided to stay. He immediately found work at the Bettendorf Company and became its first Mexican worker. But he was not going to be its last.
About three years later, with World War I raging overseas, many of the workers at the factory had gone to fight alongside their countrymen on the battlefields of Europe. Joseph needed workers, and he turned to David for help. He asked the man to return to Mexico and recruit replacement men.
The younger man agreed and traveled to Juarez, Mexico, to find as many men as he could. He eventually returned, bringing with him dozens of eager workers. Mexicans, however, were not the only immigrants who found work at the Bettendorf Company.
The Bettendorf Company, where many of the Armenians at John David’s boardinghouse worked. Courtesy of Davenport Public Library.
Armenians had started to travel to the United States several years earlier, mostly due to the continuing hostilities between the countries of Armenia and Turkey. Problems continued within the region, and many grew tired of having to deal with it. So, like so many Western Europeans before them, they packed their belongings, gathered their families and made the trip to America. One of those was a man named John David.
John David had left Armenia in 1901 to flee the Turks. He eventually settled in Bettendorf, becoming one of the very first Armenians in the area. Over the next several years, John built trust in the surrounding community, especially with the work leadership of the Bettendorf Company. He helped bring other Armenians to the region and found them jobs working there.
Around 1911, John was able to bring over his wife. Together, they opened a boardinghouse at 418 East State Street, and it quickly became a popular place for Armenians to stay. The boardinghouse was only a relatively short distance away from the Bettendorf Company, putting the men within easy walking distance.
Although long since torn down, John David’s boardinghouse was located in this location on State Street. Author’s collection.
But more than that, the Armenians were staying with their fellow countrymen. They remembered the old country and understood the customs and traditions of their culture. It was a good place to be comfortable and make a new home, far from Turkish persecution.
John David became a respected leader within the community, earning him the affectionate nickname “King David.” He loved his community and looked after them, and the Armenian community loved and respected him in return.
In 1913, an Armenian by the name of Arvid Helloian came to Bettendorf and began staying at the boardinghouse. Arvid changed his name somewhat, going by “Arvid Helloya” around town. He began working at the Bettendorf Company with his fellow Armenians. Arvid was friendly enough and got along well with everyone around him. He stayed out of trouble and worked hard.
One day in 1919, Arvid’s friend and landlord, John David, approached him about a personal matter. John had run low on money, and he wanted to buy a cow and some bread to help feed his children. He did not want to see them starve, so he came to ask Arvid for a personal loan of $400.
John was a trusted friend and upstanding member of the community. He had helped Arvid get work in this new country right away and provided a place for him to stay. How could he possibly refuse? Arvid agreed to the loan with little hesitation.
John was elated. Now he could feed his children! He thanked Arvid profusely for his generosity, slapping him on the back and giving him a broad smile. John told his friend that he would pay him back the entire sum the following week. Arvid probably felt pretty good about himself right then. He had helped a friend who had helped so many.
The next week, John did not pay. Arvid, confident that his friend would follow through on his promise of repayment, casually asked him about the situation. John gave a quick apology and said that it would have to wait until the following week.
On and on this went. Arvid asked, John David responded that payment would come next week. Two years later, in 1921, he still had not repaid his debt.
Arvid, for the most part, let the matter slide. Sure, he was irritated about it, because $400 was a lot of money. It had not been a casual loan, and while it may not have been enough to buy one of those fancy homes on the bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, it was still a significant sum to him. He would not simply let the matter slide away and be forgotten.
Yet still, he did not need the money that badly. He liked John well enough, and he could stand to wait. Arvid would play this cute, yet annoying, little game for a while. There was no need to rush. But all that changed when Helloian began to receive letters from his uncle in Armenia. The letters explained that Turks had been raiding the town where Arvid had grown up. Both of his parents had been killed, and his two younger brothers had been kidnapped and taken back to Turkey. Later, Russians came and took the boys from their original Turkish captors and, instead of setting them free, kept them imprisoned. The uncle begged Arvid to come back home and rescue his lost siblings.
How could Arvid refuse? He liked his new life and was happy here. But family was still family. There was no question in his mind—he had to go back to Armenia.
As quickly as he could, Arvid began to make preparations to return. He was able to take care of many things almost straight away, including withdrawing all of his money from the bank. However, there remained one major task to be completed: it was time to call in his debt. The game that he and John David had been playing for so long had to end.
Arvid went to his friend and, as he had so many times before, asked for his $400. Predictably, John replied that he would pay him later. The old frustrations set in. While before he could push it off to a corner of his mind, Arvid now had a reason to have that money back. He explained the situation to John, but it did not matter. The answer was the same.
Over the next several days, this same routine was played out, with the only difference being Arvid’s rising frustrations. He had to get back to Armenia. He had to take care of his family. John David was being stubborn, and it needed to stop.
Unbeknownst to Arvid, John had already begun to take steps to repay his debt. He did understand that his friend needed to leave. But John did not have $400 lying around; otherwise, he might have simply paid the debt and been done with the entire situation. Running a boardinghouse and having four mouths to feed is not always cheap. But a debt is still there, no matter how long you put off paying it.
John went to his attorney, William Scott, about the issue. John’s goal was not to get out of the debt but, rather, to seek the lawyer’s assistance in selling some of his property in Bettendorf. He told Scott that he was going to use the proceeds of the sale to pay off his debt and settle with Arvid.
On the morning of February 2, 1921, Arvid awoke, stretched and went to wash his hands. As he approached the sink, he overheard John talking with another boarder, Mike Astorian, in the kitchen. They were talking about him. John was explaining to Mike that he was not going to pay the debt he owed, not one red cent.
Arvid could not believe it. He had given that money on good faith and had waited for two years to receive payment from his friend. He had been patient and forgiving. He had been a good friend! But now, when Arvid needed it the most, John was not going to pay it back? How could he do that?
All the frustration that had built up in him over the years began to curdle within his soul. The frustration turned bitter and started an angry fire within him. Arvid began to walk back to his room, and as he did, the fire grew, turning into a white-hot rage. How could John David not pay him back?
Murder & Mayhem in Scott County, Iowa Page 7