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1889 History

CHAPTER IX.
CRIME IN SHELBY AND AUDUBON COUNTIES.
(CONTINUED)

THE JELLERSON MURDER AND SUBSEQUENT LYNCHING.

The darkest page of crime's history within Audubon County up to the present time was made in the years 1884-'85. As in all such cases, the reports given, especially as to where the blame should rest the heaviest, varies as told by different men and written about by various pens. It is not the sphere of the recorder of local history to shade and cover for the purpose of fastening guilt upon or censuring any who may have been unfortunate enough to have taken part in any way in a deed so full of darkness. From the best possible sources the writer has obtained the following facts concerning Audubon County's double tragedy:

It appears that on April 26, 1884, an old and inoffensive citizen of the county living about four miles southeast from Audubon, named Hiram Jellerson, was taken from his bed at night by his son and two sons-in-law (as was finally proven) and dragged some distance to a tree, where in his nakedness he was hung. From all that can be learned Mr. Jellerson was a crippled up old man who was a good citizen, possessing fairly good moral and intellectual traits of character, but who had been unfortunate in his family connections, and through them had lost much of his hard-earned property. His son, Cicero B., who confessed the terrible crime later on, was of a brutish make-up, inheriting, it is believed, from his mother, who was of a low type and anything but intellectual.

THe sons-in-law were residents of Carroll County named Joel J. Wilson and John A. Smyth, who together with the son of a selfish mother, took the life of an aged, well-respected man after several weeks of planning. After the usual preliminary work the three murderers were arrested, the son Cicero having allowed their crime to be made known to an outraged community, partly through his simple-mindedness and partly through the total depravity to which he was sunken. Hence the three were subsequently indicted and placed in jail awaiting their lawful trial. The ensuing term of the district court allowed the case to be continued. The next term of court was held in February, 1885, Judge Loofbourow on the bench. The defendants filed a motion for a change of venue on the ground of prejudice among the citizens of the county, the said motion being sustained by a few attorneys, together with four affidavits filed by men in extreme parts of the county, and who were supposed to know but little concerning the case or the feelings of the excited community who had been too frequently annoyed by mismanaged courts and slow grinding "mills of justice."

The motion was filed, but not acted upon the same day, by Judge Loofbourow, who, before court convened the following week (for reasons not generally known) exchanged benches with Hon. Judge H. C. Henderson, of Marshalltown, Iowa, who took charge of the court in Audubon on the following day, in place of Judge Loofbourow. These days were full of suspense to the anxious citizens, who had made up their minds that these murderers should be tried, or at least punished, in their own county -- their guilt having been established beyond a doubt. To the great surprise of the vast throng from all parts of the county present, His Honor Judge Henderson made it known that Judge Loofbourow had concluded not to try the case at home, but had heard with favor the prayer of the seven men who asked for a change of venue to Cass County.

Anger and outrage seemed depicted on the face of the great gathering in attendance, and the bitterness of feeling for the time seemed to turn from the real criminals to the person who had absented himself, as they believed, from facing his own decision -- Judge Loofbourow. By many it is believed that the fury of an exasperated crowd, lead on perhaps by some lawless character, would have endangered the life of the judge had he been present.

It is said that not less than 150 men from all parts of the county were in council as an indignation party the evening following Judge Henderson's announcement, who it was believed had feared some trouble might arise, and had ordered the sheriff to have the prisoners sent at night-time by a special train to Atlantic, the county-seat of Cass County, where by order of the court they were to be tried.

This placed all in favor of trying them at home, on their guard, and united them by a sort of common consent in the conclusion that they should not escape their just deserts, though violence had to be used as a last resort. The people knew that they were taking chances at the hands of foreign courts, besides the matter of creating an almost too burdensome expense upon Audubon County, whose people were in no shape to pay unnecessary taxes at that date.

Certain it is that all night long the town was guarded, and no one permitted to approach the jail. Excitement ran high everywhere the following day; nothing else was thought of or talked over among business men and farmers.

At two o'clock in the morning, Tuesday, February 4, came the culminating act! Sheriff Henry Herbert was awakened from his slumbers by a loud rap at his door within the county jail building. He responded by going to a window and inquiring what was wanted. A voice replied, "Henry, we want to see you." The sheriff again asked what was wanted of him. The reply was. "We want the Jellerson murderers." Herbert looked out of the window and estimated that there were about seventy-five men about the jail yard. He at once informed them that the prisoners were in his charge as an officer of the law, and that he would not give up the keys as demanded by them, but would defend and protect the prisoners. They then informed him that they did not intend to allow the prisoners to go to another county for trial, it having been rumored that the sheriff was to remove them by night. Herbert told them if they would go away, that he would promise them upon honor to remove them by day, giving them due notice when it should be done. He added that he should neither give up the keys nor prisoners. Then a voice replied, "Herbert, every man here is your friend, and we know your duty as well as you do; but we have come on business, and that business we must do quick. We are no mob, but a body of determined men who are citizens of your county. We came for Jellerson's murderers, and we will not quit short of haivng them, let it be at whatever cost it may."

The sheriff and his deputy, Mr. Workman, then fired several shots over the heads of the crowd, to try and alarm the citizens about town, but all to no avail. Some one from the crowd fired at the jail window, causing the officers within to believe that they meant all they had said. The sheriff ran down stairs, but found they had spiked his key-hole in a manner which securely fastened him inside of his sleeping-room, making him powerless to defend the prisoners. The mob (for such it had them come to be) soon broke an opening through the brick walls of the jail, by means of sledges, crow-bars, etc., and were inside, bolting the other door, thus cutting off all possibility of the officers protecting the prisoners.

An account given by one of another set of prisoners, aside from those the mob were after, gave the following details of the tragedy: The prisoners sought were in two cells inside an iron cage, and they slept on hammocks. At the first alarm Smith remarked, "They are after us!" Wilson replied, "Yes, it's all up with us now!" One of the mob carried a lantern, while others were well provided with tools; yet it took nearly an hour and a half to gain access to the prisoners' inner cells, by the dextrous use of cold chisels, hammers, etc. Upon their entrance Smith struck one of the nine masked men, who were within the jail, with a broom-handle, knocking him over by a table; whereupon the lyncher drew his revolver and shot Smith in the head, instantly killing him.

In the cell were two chairs, and whenever a man attempted to enter Wilson would strike at him violently, and it was some time before they could conquer him. He finally ran toward the opening, like a mad beast, with chair in hand, but was silenced by a bullet for an instant, but kept up his uneven fight for life until after the third shot had taken effect, when he fell to the cell floor. The bodies of the two already killed were dragged to the opening the mob had made in the jail wall, taken out and hung to a fence stringer.

Cicero, the fiendish culprit, was still within his cell, frightened almost to death, but remarked to one of his fellow-criminals, after the party left to hang the prisoners already shot, that he did not think they would kill him. But alas! he did not seem to measure the storm of passion then engendered in the hearts of the furious yet seemingly level-headed lynchers. The next move was to remove Cicero from the jail, which he did not resist. When out they placed a rope around his neck, and he was obedient and humble as a lamb. Nothing further is known of the procedure until the dead body of Cicero was found hanging within the band stand, in the center of the public square.

While the mob were outside with the other two prisoners, Cicero, confined in his cell, confessed his terrible guilt, together with that of Smith and Wilson. He confessed with the express understanding between himself and the other convicts of the jail that they should not tell on him only in case the mob should kill him. Smith and Wilson, however, protested their innocence to the last.

The verdict of the coroner's jury was to the effect that the three prisoners came to their death "by unknown hands."

Judge Henderson always claimed that the exchange of judges was made at his and not at Judge Loofbourow's request, but the majority of the people always felt that their judge shirked a known duty, and dare not face his own act in granting a change of venue. To say that Audubon County people upheld mob law would be false, but it is true that they had become tired of mismanaged courts of justice. There had been seven murders committed during the three years prior to this affair, and none had been properly dealt with by the courts of justice, all of which tended to nettle and make the people ready to justify, to a certain extent, this last lynching act. And since that date law and order have prevailed and crime wonderfully decreased.

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Transcribed by Cheryl Siebrass August, 2013 from "Biographical History of Shelby and Audubon Counties", Chicago: W. S. Dunbar & Co., 1889, pg. 686-688.