AFTER STANDING OFF A SHERIFF AND POSSE, THE NOTORIOUS BANDIT IS TAKEN
SINGLE HANDED.
During the years of 1875-6 I was Chief Special Agent of the Allegheny
Valley Railroad. One morning I was called to Brookville, Pennsylvania,
to investigate the burglary of the company's office at that point during
the preceding night. On arriving in the little town I found the office
of the company almost a wreck, the safe having been blown to pieces with
dynamite or some other explosive, and its contents, including quite a
sum of money and a number of Centennial Exposition and railroad tickets
were missing. After some hard work, I obtained a clue which led me to
believe that the job had been done by the notorious Watts gang.
This outlaw band, which originally consisted of eight men, had long
terrorized the good citizens of Jefferson, Clarion, Forest and Elk
Counties--in much the same manner as had the James Boys and their gang
of cut-throats the citizens of western Missouri.
[Illustration: WESS WATTS.
Noted Pennsylvania bandit leader run down and captured by Detective
Furlong.]
There was no crime too big or too little for them to commit, but they
made a specialty of arson, murder, robbery and safe-blowing. The
organizer and leader was Wess Watts, who, before he had adopted outlawry
as a profession, had been a gun and locksmith in Brookville, and had the
reputation of being a skilled mechanic. He was about 28 years of age, 5
feet 11 inches in height, and weighed in the neighborhood of 190 pounds.
There had never been any question of his gameness and he was known as
the crack shot of that portion of Pennsylvania. He often gave
exhibitions of his expertness in the handling of firearms. One of his
favorite stunts was to shoot an apple from the head of his brother at a
distance of twenty paces with either a gun or revolver.
In reporting to Mr. David McCargo, the General Superintendent of the
road, a day or so later, that I was convinced that the Watts gang was
responsible for the Brookville job, and venturing the opinion that this
gang would continue to prey upon the railroad at intervals until they
were exterminated; whereupon Mr. McCargo said, "You are hereby
instructed to bend every effort toward the suppression of this gang, and
you will be relieved from all other duties until this has been
accomplished."
I at once took up the work, by visiting the Western Penitentiary at
Allegheny City, where I found a former member of the Watts gang, who had
been convicted of horse stealing and was at that time serving a ten-year
sentence for the same. This man's name was Lafayette Edwards, and he had
been connected with the Watts gang for a number of years and was a
member at the time of his arrest. He was about thirty-five years of age.
He had a younger brother by the name of Horace Edwards, who had been
connected with the gang until about a year previous to the arrest of
Lafayette, when he grew tired of the life he had been leading, and, as
the gang was daily growing bolder in their depredations, he was afraid
they would all be brought to justice sooner or later, so he disappeared,
no one knowing his whereabouts in Brookville. On approaching Lafayette,
at the penitentiary, I told him who I was, that I had learned of both
his and his brother's connection with the Watts gang and that I desired
to find Horace, so that I might get the facts from him as to his
knowledge of the crimes perpetrated by the gang while he was a member of
it. Lafayette Edwards said he believed that his brother would tell all
he knew, providing he would not be punished for the part he had taken
while working with the gang. I explained to him that so long as Horace
had severed his connection with the gang, that I had no doubt but that
the prosecuting officers would use his testimony against the other
members of the gang and nolle prosequi all charges against him, which is
a custom, as the prosecuting attorney in criminal cases has the right,
with the permission of the court, to annul proceedings against a
criminal, where he has been used as a State's witness. I also told him
if he would assist me in locating Horace, that I would do all that I
could, consistently, with the proper officers to have the charges
annulled against his brother. Finally he told me that Horace was engaged
as a farm hand at a point near Vermillion, Illinois. He said that Horace
had joined the church and was living an honest and conscientious life. I
went to Vermillion and located Horace Edwards, who was working as a farm
hand under an alias, and found that he had established a good
reputation, joined the church, and was respected by all who knew him. In
other words, he had made friends with everybody with whom he came in
contact during his few months' stay in that neighborhood. This
information I verified before approaching Horace. I finally called on
him and told him who I was, that I was from Pennsylvania, and that I had
seen his brother Lafayette, who was in the penitentiary in Allegheny
City, who had given me his address, and, in fact, I told him the line of
facts that I knew he would recognize as facts. I then proposed to him
that he go back to Pennsylvania with me, at my expense, promising that
I would keep him quietly in a small town near Brookville, where he
would not be known until I had apprehended the balance of the Watts
gang, and that I would pay his expenses back to Illinois, where he had
so many friends, and was favorably known, and that the people would not
become aware of his identity after his return among them. In this
connection, I wish to say that Horace had adopted his mother's maiden
name. To this Horace replied promptly that, as he had become a church
member, he would render all the assistance in his power towards bringing
his former companions to justice, and thereby preventing them from
committing further depredations. I told the parties by whom he was
employed that his presence was required as a witness in an important
case in court in Pennsylvania, and that I had come after him and had no
doubt but that he would return again in a few weeks. I took him back to
Pennsylvania, and rounded up the balance of the gang, with the exception
of the leader, Wess Watts. I learned that he had last been heard from at
Paducah, Kentucky. This I learned through the assistance of a sister of
Mrs. Watts, who was in correspondence with her. I went to Paducah and
found Mrs. Watts. From my investigations I had become so familiar with
the depredations of the gang, the dates and places where they had been
committed that I decided to approach Mrs. Watts by representing myself
as a friend of her husband and other members of the gang. At this she
became angry and excited, and told me that if she had a kettle of
boiling water convenient she would scald me, as she had no further use
for her husband or any of his friends. He had deserted her and their
child, and had run away with another man's wife. It was then my turn to
sympathize with her, which I did to the best of my ability, and of
course, denounced Wess Watts in plain words for having deserted his
wife and child in such a manner. Mrs. Watts, who, by the way, was really
a good natured woman and rather good looking, of the blonde type, about
25 years of age, finally told me that her husband had taken this other
woman, and that she had heard, a few days prior to my visit, that he and
Oliver Brooks had opened a gun and locksmith repair shop at Shawneetown,
Illinois. She said Watts and this woman and Oliver Brooks and the Brooks
woman were living together, and that they had their shingle out for gun
and lock repairing, but in reality were committing burglaries and thefts
almost nightly in the vicinity of Shawneetown. I took a boat at Paducah
for Shawneetown, which is on the Ohio river some 50 miles from Paducah.
I arrived at Shawneetown, which was then a very small place, about 3
o'clock in the morning. The town is very low, the Ohio river being held
out of the town by a high levee along its banks. After leaving the boat
I went over the levee to the only street in the town parallel to the
river and had no trouble in locating the gun shop, by reason of the sign
over the door. Directly opposite this shop was a general merchandise
store with a large pile of empty dry goods boxes standing in front of
it. I seated myself upon one of these boxes, as it was not quite
daylight when I found the place and, as I had had some sleep coming up
on the boat, I was not sleepy. I could not go to a hotel at that time
without arousing some comment, and, therefore, concluded I would wait in
the vicinity of the gun shop and watch for developments. I had been
sitting on the box for perhaps three-quarters of an hour, and day was
just beginning to break, when I noticed a little cloud of smoke coming
out of the stovepipe (which served as a chimney) in the shanty in which
the gun shop was located. A few minutes later the door of the gun shop
was opened and I could see, from my perch on the box across the street,
that some one was sweeping. I could see the broom, but could not see who
was operating it. I watched the broom for a few minutes and then
concluded I would go over to the shop and look in and see who was doing
the sweeping.
This shop was a one-story frame shanty, about 16 feet wide, by perhaps,
24 feet long. It was divided in the middle by a partition, making two
rooms. The front room, being the gun shop, contained a vise bench to the
right of the front door, upon which were a lot of tools, such as files,
wrenches, one or two old guns and a couple of pistols.
Diagonally across the shop and to the left was a door opening into the
rear room, which was used as a living room. When I peered into the front
room or gun shop there was no one in the room, but the door leading into
the rear room was open and I rapped on the shop door. My knock was
answered by a man, who came from the rear room and had a broom in his
hand. He was clad in blue overalls, a knit undershirt and wore a pair of
rubbers, but no socks. I saw at a glance that it was Wess Watts,
himself. I had a very good description of him and had seen his brother,
sister and mother, and he resembled them very strongly. I noticed that
he had nothing in the shape of arms on him except the broom. I decided
then and there to arrest him. When he came from the rear room I saluted
him, saying, "Good-morning," and he replied in the same way. I then
said, "Are you the gunsmith?" He said he was. I said, "I have a job for
you. I have an old gun here, but I don't know whether you can do
anything with it or not."
In this connection I wish to state that before I left my perch on the
boxes across the street, I placed my revolver, which was a 41-Colts,
short barrel, double action, in my right-hand coat pocket. I also had a
pair of automatic hand-cuffs, which I placed in my left-hand pocket. I
was wearing a sack coat, and when Watts replied that he was the
gunsmith, I took the revolver out of my right-hand pocket in an awkward
manner, holding it about in the middle. He turned around, in a leisurely
manner, and set the broom in the corner near the door, and while he was
doing this, I placed my gun in working position, and as he turned
extending his hand, evidently for the purpose of taking and examining my
pistol, I leveled it at his head and told him to "throw up his hands."
He hesitated for an instant, but I commanded him a second time, telling
him to throw them up at once, or I would blow his head off. He threw up
his hands, and, just at the time I commanded him the second time to
throw up his hands, a man with a bushy head of red hair peered through
the door leading into the rear room, but when he saw what was going on,
he ducked back his head, as he was in direct range with my gun. I then
commanded Watts to about face, and step forward to the door, which he
did, keeping his hands up. I was right behind him with my gun at the
back of his head, and told him to step down and out of the door. He
obeyed. I then took my hand-cuffs out of my left-hand coat pocket, and
snapped them on his wrists, while his hands were still above his head. I
then told him he could drop his hands, and marched him up the street to
the hotel, which was but a few hundred feet from the shop. In the
meantime Watts did not utter a word, but merely complied with my
commands. On our arrival at the hotel I found the night clerk or porter
in charge, but asleep in a chair in the office, and as we marched in he
awoke and appeared to be frightened at our intrusion. I told him that I
was an officer and that Watts was my prisoner. I told him we were
hungry and asked him how soon we could get something to eat. He awakened
the help and in about half an hour breakfast was announced.
All this time Watts and I were sitting in the office gazing at each
other, not a word having been spoken by either, and when we went into
the dining room and sat down to the table, Watts looked at me and then
at the hand-cuffs as much as to say, "Aren't you going to remove these
hand-cuffs?" He did not speak, however. I shook my head, looked at the
table and food and then at Watts, as much as to say, "There it is, you
can eat it or leave it alone." I sat opposite him at the table and he
helped himself to some ham and managed to eat a pretty good breakfast
with the hand-cuffs on.
On arising from the table it occurred to me for the first time that my
prisoner was not very well dressed to make a long journey. I espied a
large-sized, old-fashioned linen duster, and a big-brimmed straw hat
hanging on the wall of the hotel sitting room. After some dickering with
the porter I purchased them for 75c and put them on my prisoner. The
addition of these garments made Watts look more like the leader of a
rube band, than the bold, bad man that he really was.
At that time there was a branch of the Wabash Railroad running into
Shawneetown, and I had ascertained there was a train leaving there
shortly for McLeansboro and East St. Louis. We boarded the train at 6:00
a. m. and started for East St. Louis. After we had been on the train for
half an hour or more, Watts, who was sitting in the seat with me, and to
the left, next to the window, turned around facing me and said, "Who are
you, and where are you taking me, and what have you arrested me for?"
I replied that I was a deputy sheriff from Vermillion and that I had
arrested him on suspicion of committing a burglary there a week before.
He said, "Why, I was never in Vermillion in my life. You have made a big
mistake."
"I guess I am not very much mistaken," I replied, "some of our citizens
saw the burglars when they left the bank, and have described you
accurately. Of course, if they fail to identify you on your arrival at
Vermillion, I will apologize to you, and then be obliged to pay your
expenses back to Shawneetown."
He then said, "You say you are a deputy sheriff? Well, don't deputy
sheriffs have to give bond for the careful performance of their duties?"
I replied, "Yes, they have to give bond."
"Well," he continued, "these people won't identify me and I will make
your bondsmen pay dearly for this outrage."
"We'll see about this," I replied. "I can't be mistaken. I have been a
deputy sheriff for the past two years, and I have arrested two house
thieves and they were convicted, so I can not be mistaken."
"Well, you are very badly mistaken now," he answered, and with this he
stopped talking and seemed to be at ease, as he knew he could not be
identified at Vermillion, and felt sure that he would be released. In
due time we arrived at East St. Louis, and I explained to him that I did
not care to proceed to Vermillion that night, as I had some little
business to attend to in St. Louis, and therefore, I proposed to come
over to the city, remain over night and take the first train out in the
morning to Vermillion. He seemed perfectly satisfied. I brought him
across the river and took him to the Four Courts and turned him over to
Major McDonough, who was then Chief of Police of St. Louis. I had known
Chief McDonough for years. He locked Watts up, and I, of course, had his
meals taken in to him and had him well cared for. The next morning we
took an early train for Indianapolis over what is now a part of the Big
Four system. We got along very nicely until we reached the Wabash river,
which separates Illinois from Indiana, when Watts suddenly turned to me
and in a loud and excited manner said, "Where in h--l are you taking me?
You haven't told me the truth."
"No," I replied, "I did not tell you the truth about where I am taking
you, but I will do so now. I am taking you to Brookville, Pennsylvania."
"Why didn't you tell me this in the first place?" he asked.
I replied, "My reason for not telling you this in the first place was,
that after I had located you, as I supposed, at Paducah, Kentucky, I
reported the facts to Sheriff Steele of Jefferson County and asked him
to apply for the proper papers so that you might be taken back to
Pennsylvania. Sheriff Steele obtained the papers and insisted on
bringing a posse of men to assist in your capture, to which I objected
and I told him that I did not think it necessary for anybody to come
after you, but he and myself. He reluctantly consented to accompany me.
He had the papers and came as far as St. Louis. The weather was very
warm and when we arrived in St. Louis, Steele was very feverish and
complained of being sick, and was afraid that he was taking typhoid
fever, and insisted on returning to Pennsylvania immediately, which he
did. He insisted on me going back with him, but I told him that I was
going to get hell before I returned. He left me and returned home."
"Why, he wasn't sick at all, he was just afraid of me," said Watts. "He
was afraid to meet me, for he knew if I saw him I would kill him. I
stood off Steele and seventeen of his men, all armed, in Brookville
once. Those fellows are all afraid of me. So you came down here to get
me yourself? Well, you haven't any papers for my arrest, have you?"
"No," I said, "I haven't any papers. I have nothing but you."
"Suppose I object to going any farther with you," he remarked.
"In that case," I replied, "I would simply have to have you locked up
and wait until the papers arrive. They are all made out, therefore you
can raise all the objections you like. I am a deputy sheriff, and I
could have locked you up in Illinois, but I did not know what that
red-headed fellow and your other associates in Shawneetown would do, and
not wanting to be bothered with them, I decided to just bring you right
along."