SCHAMLE'S RETURN TO GEORGETOWN--THE VIGILANTES ORGANIZED AND AT
WORK--THE MURDERER TAKEN FROM HIS CELL AND LEFT HANGING IN A HOG
PEN--THE LYNCHING DONE UP IN RHYME.
On the 12th of the same month Schamle was taken to Georgetown by Sheriffs
Ellis and Easley. It had been discussed on the streets and elsewhere that
he was a proper subject for lynch law, but no demonstrations of that
nature were made upon his arrival.
On the following day his shackles were removed in the presence of a large
but not appreciative crowd. Their remarks on this occasion evinced no
particular affection for him, and must have suggested to him the propriety
of making arrangements for a trip to a warmer climate than Colorado. On
the same day he was taken before J. P. DeMattos, justice of the peace, but
waived examination and was committed to jail.
That was all right so far, but the public mind was somewhat agitated over
the matter, and did not deem the Clear Creek county jail sufficiently
secure for the safe keeping of such a wretch as Schamle. The report of the
Sedalia rape case had also reached Georgetown, and this did not raise him
any in the estimation of the people. An ominous murmur buzzed around on
the streets. For one night he was permitted to slumber undisturbed, if the
blessings of repose could lull such a brute, and for a few short hours
render him insensible to the misery he had wrought.
On Saturday morning, the 15th, between 3 and 4 o'clock, a number of masked
men kicked open the door of the room in which Mr. Sanders, the jailer, and
A. W. Brownell were sleeping, and covered them with the light of a dark
lantern and three pistols, at the same time requesting them, in a manner
that showed they were not to be trifled with to hold up their hands and
make no noise.
[Illustration: Hanging of Robert Schamle in a Georgetown Hog Pen, by a
Mob.]
Both were thus awakened from a sound slumber, and they instinctively
obeyed orders, well knowing that resistance was in vain. The vigilantes
then searched for the keys to the cells, and at length found them between
the bed and the mattress where the jailer was sleeping. They then left the
room, leaving two men to guard the door, and took Schamle from his cell,
some time after which the keys were thrown on the bed where the men were
lying, and the lynchers left.
Here there is a missing link in Schamle's history. It is not known to the
general public whether he made any unbecoming demonstrations, or protested
his innocence, or said his prayers, the only record being that left with
the body by a local poet, who half lets us into the secret in the
following lines:
THE LAY OF THE VIGILANTES.
Not a bark was heard, not a warning note,
As we o'er to the calaboose hurried;
Not a Thomas cat cleared his melodious throat
Where our hero in slumber lay buried.
We entered his cell at the dead of night,
The bolt with the jail keys turning,
The moon's pale crescent had sank out of sight,
And never a lamp was burning.
No useless stogas encased his feet;
And we saw, as we carefully bound him,
That he stood like a coward, dreading to meet
The shades of the victims around him.
Few and short were the prayers he said--
He did not have time to say long ones--
But he steadfastly gazed at the frame o'er his head
And grieved that the posts were such strong ones.
We thought, as we hoisted him up from the ground
And made the rope fast to a corner.
That the cool morning zephyrs would whisper around
A corse without ever a mourner.
Lightly they'll talk of the deed that is done,
And wonder, "Who was it that hung him?"
Though little they'll grieve to see him hang on
The beam where the "vigilance" swung him.
As soon as our cheerful task was done,
Ere the light of the morning was firing
The peaks that glow in the rays of the sun,
We prudently spoke of retiring.
Sternly and gladly we looked on him there
As we thought of his deeds dark and evil;
We heaved not a sigh and breathed not a prayer,
But we left him alone with the Devil.
This, to be sure, is slightly mysterious, and perhaps not entirely
reliable. At any rate, the body of the murderer was found when the sun
rose, hanging by the neck to the frame of a dilapidated building, a few
hundred feet from the jail, which is used as a pig pen. As soon as the
deed became generally known, a large crowd of both sexes collected at the
spot to gaze upon the ghastly spectacle. His toilet had evidently been
hastily and carelessly made, but possibly he was not to blame for this. He
was minus his hat, coat and vest, and in spite of the predictions that are
usually applied to his ilk, he did not die with his boots on.
Between 8 and 9 o'clock a brief inquest was held over the remains, and a
verdict in accordance with the facts was returned. The body was then cut
down and laid on the end of a large cask which served as a sleeping
apartment for pigs. When it fell down the head was gashed by the rocks.
The body remained where it was placed until 11 o'clock a. m., and during
that time was viewed by hundreds of people who were constantly arriving
and leaving, and among all that crowd there was not one pitying eye, or a
single expression of sorrow or sympathy.
The action of the vigilantes was universally applauded in Georgetown; in
fact, they were regarded as public benefactors.
A local paper said: "His capture is another demonstration of the
effectiveness of The Rocky Mountain Detective Association, and of its
great usefulness in bringing criminals to justice."
A TUSSLE WITH THE HABEAS CORPUS.