RUM's DOINGS.

HOMICIDE AT FLORIS

One more of Whisky’s Victims and Satan’s Satraps Passes in His Cheeks

On Sunday morning, Mark Box, of Floris, brought the news to this place that a man had been shot dead at that place the previous night. A reporter of THE COMMONWEALTH visited Floris that day, for the purpose of eliciting the facts in the case, and learned the following:

The dead man’s name was George Rodgers. In company with two other men, all evidently card sharps and bad characters, he came to Floris on the train Saturday afternoon. The three had been drinking freely during the day, and at night became very drunk and quarrelsome. They then repaired to a house of prostitution in the southwest part of town, known as the “Buzzards’ Roost.” Which adjoins on the west the house in front of which Rodgers was eventually killed. About half past ten, the man who did the shooting, Isaac Lockridge, was unhitching his horses from a wagon in front of his house, he having just returned from a trip to Centerville. While he thus engaged the three men came out of the “Roost,” came down to where he was, and asked whether they could get accommodation for the night. Lockridge, informed them not, and then started with his horses to the barn, about thirty yards distant. The men followed him a part of the way, which alarmed him ; so, when he started back to his house, he called a neighbor to go with him. About the time the two reached the front gate, the three men again came up. The dead man, Rodgers, told Lockridge that they intended to stay with him that night. Lockridge told him that they could not, as he had no accommodations for them. Rodgers then said “You d-d son of a bitch, we will stay,” and, with an open pocket knife in his hand, advanced toward where Lockridge was standing, just inside the front gate. Lockridge warned him to keep away; but he continued to advance, cursing and swearing that they would stay. Lockridge, then, seeing that his own life was in danger, drew an eight inch navy, which he had taken with him on his trip, and fired at Rodgers, the ball, from the position of the wound, evidently passing near, if not through, the heart. Rodgers turned, exclaiming: “Oh! You d-d son of a bitch, you’ve shot me,” and started away, his two partners immediately taking to their heels. He walked about five or six steps, to where the ground made a sudden descent of about a foot to the roadbed, and then pitched forward on his face, and died in a few minutes.

Some cause or other, the body was left lying in exactly the place it fell on the face, in the road, until Sunday noon, a guard being placed over it. The impression seems to prevail that no one had a right to touch the dead man until the coroner had held an inquest on his remains. Mark Box came to this place in the morning for the purpose of obtaining the coroner; but, learning from legal authority, that, in so clear a case, where there were several witnesses to establish the fact of the shooting, and where it was admitted by the man himself, and also where it was so evidently a justifiable homicide, there was no need of taking any legal steps in the matter, further than could be readily done by a justice of the peace down there, he returned to Floris and had the body removed to his house. It was interred the same evening.

Lockridge gave himself up, but was released. He is a man about twenty-eight years old, and has a reputation of being a hard working citizen, bearing a tolerably good reputation. The two partners of the dead man, after running away, came in a roundabout way back to the “roost,” where they passed the night. In the morning they were arrested, and also the two woman occupying the house; but, there being nothing against them, they were all discharged. At first, the two men denied any previous acquaintance with the dead man; but finally said that he was from Marshalltown, and that his parents lived in New York.

Rodgers, the deceased party, was about thirty; of medium height, as near as we could judge, and very broad and square shouldered; with auburn hair, and a moustache of the same hue, though it had recently been dyed; the little finger on the right had missing; and one of the heads seen on one man in a hundred- very high and full forehead, and generally well developed. But little could be told as to the general cast of his countenance, discoloration having set in when we saw it; but, as to his head, we should say that it stamped him as a man of no ordinary ability, and one that could have made an honorable name among his fellow-men, by pursuing a different life. About nine-teen dollars in money was found upon his body, and several letters, which were put in the possession of Mark Box, to be held in case of any future use for them.

Much ill-feeling prevailed against the saloon at which the men got drunk, and which bears a hard name among the Floris people. It is thought that the hell hole be closed, as also the “Buzzards’ Roost,” which, for the good name of the Floris people and of Davis County, it is to be hoped will be done.

One of the prostitutes mentioned above, says that Rodgers was shortly to marry her; or so, at least, we were informed by a gentleman of Floris.

We heard but one opinion from the residents of that place, and that was that Lockridge was clearly, justifiable in the shooting.

-The Commonwealth Vol III No 45 Pg3 1875