Montreal tickets should be purchased to Europe by way of Portland,
Maine, and that the party should leave Montreal at a certain time by
the Grand Trunk road. The line of this road runs for a number of miles
through northern Vermont, and it was customary for the train the men
were to take to wait over for an hour at Island Pond, a little place
just across the Canadian line. Here, as it was arranged, Robert
Pinkerton was to be waiting, ready to take Proctor into custody, and
also (though in this part of the arrangement Donahue, of course, was
not consulted) Donahue and Collins, should they be so imprudent as to
stay on the train until it crossed the line. To the forwarding of this
latter end, indeed, a special stratagem was resorted to. Conceiving
that Donahue and Collins, in order the more completely to allay
Proctor's suspicion, might remain with him until the last station was
reached on the Canadian side, the detectives arranged that on this
particular night the train should not stop at that station, but push
on at full speed to the American side.
On a certain Tuesday night, Donahue, Collins, and Proctor took the
10:15 P. M. train at Montreal for Portland. No sooner had they left
the station than a Pinkerton representative, who had "shadowed" them
aboard, telegraphed the fact to Robert Pinkerton at Island Pond.
Proctor went early to his berth in the sleeper. In another berth, not
far distant, never closing his eyes through the night, but lying there
fully dressed, with weapons ready, was a Pinkerton detective, whose
instructions were to accompany the three robbers as long as they were
together, and to stay with Proctor to the last.
It was five o'clock in the morning when the train drew up at Island
Pond. On the platform stood Robert Pinkerton, carrying a requisition
from the governor of Pennsylvania on the governor of Vermont for the
arrest of Donahue, Collins, and Proctor, charged with robbing the
United States Express Company of forty thousand dollars, at
Susquehanna, Pennsylvania. The first man to leave the train was the
"shadow," who informed his chief that Proctor was sound asleep in
berth No. 12. Donahue and Collins, he said, had left the train long
before it reached the last station on the Canadian side, so that the
plan for their capture had fallen through. Mr. Pinkerton went aboard
the sleeper at once, and going to berth No. 12, pushed aside the
curtains. He could not see distinctly for the darkness, but borrowing
a lantern from one of the trainmen, let the light fall on the face of
the person within, and saw it was Proctor, slumbering in complete
unconsciousness that his hour of reckoning had come. A gentle push in
the ribs awakened him with a start. Recognizing Mr. Pinkerton, he said
with admirable coolness:
"You have spoiled the whole business. If you had not come in here to
arrest me, I would have had those men across the line next week."
When he said this, Proctor supposed that Donahue and Collins were
asleep in an adjoining berth; but, even to save himself, he never
thought of betraying them, which goes to show that he was a "stancher"
man than Donahue and Collins had been led to believe. For some time he
endeavored to maintain his old character with Mr. Pinkerton; but on
the way to Susquehanna, realizing the hopelessness of his case, he
acknowledged the deception he had practised, and his full
responsibility with the others in the Susquehanna robbery. He also
admitted his previous criminal record.
At Susquehanna, Proctor was placed in jail to await trial, and there
Mr. Pinkerton visited him some time later. Something in the prisoner's
manner convinced the detective that all was not as it should be, and
he urged the sheriff to put Proctor in another cell and search his
clothes and his cell thoroughly. This was done, and there were found a
number of keys that fitted the locks of various doors in the jail, and
also a large key fitting the gate from the jail-yard into the street.
Proctor's rare mechanical skill had enabled him to make these keys in
his cell, from impressions furnished him by a woman who had been
allowed to visit him. Being a good talker, Proctor had won this
woman's sympathy, and had also made a strong appeal to her
self-interest by promising, on his escape, to share with her a large
sum of money he had buried.
At his trial Proctor pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to twelve
years' imprisonment in the penitentiary at Cherry Hill, Pennsylvania.
Here, again, he was caught in the act of making keys to aid him to
escape. He laid various other plans for regaining his liberty, indeed,
but all were frustrated. His imprisonment worked no reform in him.
After he had served out his sentence, some burglaries committed in
Maine brought him again under arrest, and, having been identified as a
convict from the Massachusetts State prison, he was taken back to that
institution, to serve out his unexpired sentence.
The United States Express Company had not relaxed its efforts against
his associates after Proctor's capture. Donahue and Collins returned
to Montreal, well satisfied with the work they had done, and thinking
themselves safe from pursuit. But President Platt instructed Robert
Pinkerton to take every measure possible against them, and it was
decided that as Donahue could not be reached and punished for the
robbery at Susquehanna, he should be made to suffer for the early
robbery at Quebec already referred to. Donahue's complicity in this
robbery was proved by the discovery of a part of the stolen goods in
his hotel at Fort Erie. Through the efforts of the express company and
the Pinkertons he was now arrested, and on trial was convicted and
sentenced to five years' imprisonment in the Kingston penitentiary.
After his conviction Donahue told the detectives that he was a fool to
have had anything to do with such a dangerous project as an express
robbery, but that the opportunity at Susquehanna was so tempting that
he could not resist it. After his arrest the express company attached
all of his property, and, although they did not succeed in getting a
judgment against him, they fought him in the courts until his wife,
acting for him, was obliged to mortgage all their possessions up to
the last dollar, so that they never derived any substantial benefit
from the stolen money.
As for Collins, he remained a fugitive from justice for some time
after the conviction of Proctor and Donahue. Several years later,
however, seeing himself constantly threatened by the express company
and the detectives, he decided to placate his enemies by stepping out
from the ranks of the law-breakers and trying to lead an honest life.
And he has succeeded, as the Pinkertons have reason to know; and his
case goes to prove what is borne out by wide experience, that even the
most desperate criminals are sometimes capable of genuine reform.
The Pollock Diamond Robbery
There were thirteen men in the smoker of a train on the Sioux City and
Pacific Railroad when it drew out of Omaha at six o'clock on Friday
evening, November 4, 1892, and started on its eastward run. Among
these thirteen, sitting about half-way down the aisle, enjoying a good
cigar, was Mr. W. G. Pollock of New York, a traveling salesman for W.
L. Pollock & Co., of the same city, dealers in diamonds. In the inside
pocket of his vest he carried fifteen thousand dollars' worth of uncut
diamonds, while a leather satchel on the seat beside him contained a
quantity of valuable stones in settings.
On the front seat of the car, just behind the stove, sat a
stolid-looking young man, who would have passed for a farmer's lad. He
seemed scarcely over twenty, having neither beard nor mustache, and a
stranger would have put him down as a rather stupid, inoffensive
fellow. Compared with Mr. Pollock, he was slighter in build, although
an inch or so taller. As he sat there staring at the stove, the
passenger in the seat behind him, J. H. Shaw, an Omaha well-digger, a
bluff, hearty man of social instincts, tried to draw him into
conversation; but the young fellow only shook his head sulkily, and
the well-digger relapsed into silence. Presently, as the train was
approaching California Junction, the young man on the front seat rose
and started down the aisle. Curiously enough, he now wore a full beard
of black hair five or six inches long. No one paid any attention to
him until he stopped at Mr. Pollock's seat, drew a revolver, and said
loud enough for every one in the car to hear him:
"Give me them diamonds."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he shifted the revolver to his left
hand, drew a slung-shot from his coat-pocket, and struck Mr. Pollock
over the head such a heavy blow that the bag of the slung-shot burst,
and the shot itself fell to the floor. Then he said again: "Give me
them diamonds."
Realizing that the situation was desperate, Mr. Pollock took out his
pocket-book and handed it to his assailant, saying: "I have only a
hundred dollars; here it is."
Pushing back the pocket-book as if unworthy of his attention, the man
coolly aimed his revolver at Mr. Pollock's right shoulder and fired. Then
he aimed at the left shoulder and fired. Both bullets hit, and were
followed by two more, which went whizzing by the diamond-merchant's head
on either side, missing him, perhaps by accident, but probably by design,
as the men were not three feet apart.
By this the other people in the car had disappeared under the seats
like rats into their holes. To all intents and purposes Mr. Pollock
was alone with his assailant. The latter evidently knew where the
diamonds were secreted, for, ripping open his victim's vest, he drew
out the leather wallet in which they were inclosed, and stuffed it
into his pocket. Wounded though he was, Mr. Pollock now grappled with
the thief, who, using the butt of his revolver as a cudgel, brought
down fearful blows on Pollock's head. The latter, however, getting
into the aisle, fought the robber up and down the car; but a crushing
blow at last laid him senseless on the floor.
With perfect self-possession and without hurry the thief walked back
down the aisle to Mr. Pollock's seat, and took one of the two leather
bags lying there, by mistake choosing, though, the one that did not
contain the mounted diamonds. Then he went to the end of the car,
pulled the bell-rope, and, as the train began to slacken its speed in
response to this signal, jumped off the steps, rolled down a bank
fifteen feet high, and disappeared.
Sharing, apparently, in the general consternation and terror inspired
by the young fellow, the conductor, instead of holding the train to
pursue the thief, signaled the engineer to go ahead, and no effort was
made for a capture until the train reached California Junction,
several miles farther on. Meanwhile the panic-stricken passengers
recovered, at their leisure, their composure and their seats. Had but
one of his fellow-travelers gone to the assistance of Mr. Pollock, the
robber might easily have been overpowered. As it was, he all but
murdered his man, plundered him of his diamonds, and escaped without
the slightest interference. When his pistol was picked up, near the
spot where he left the train, it was found that in the struggle the
cylinder had caught, so that it would have been impossible to
discharge the two chambers remaining loaded. Thus eleven able-bodied
men were held in a state of abject terror by one slender lad, who at
the last was practically unarmed.
At California Junction the wounded diamond-merchant was carried from
the train, and that same night taken back to Omaha. Mr. Pollock, being
a member of the Jewelers' Protective Union, a rich and powerful
organization, established some years ago for the protection of jewelry
salesmen against thieves, was entitled to its aid.
When the detectives reached the scene of the robbery, the robber had
vanished as completely as if he had been whisked off to another
planet. To be sure, farmers in the neighborhood brought rumors of the
stealing of horses, of a strange man sleeping in the woods, and of a
desperate-looking character seen limping along the road. But all this
came to nothing, except to establish, what seemed probable, that the
diamond-thief had fled back to Omaha. A patient and exhaustive search
in Omaha resulted in nothing. The man was gone, and the diamonds were
gone; that was all anybody knew.
What made the case more difficult was the uncertainty as to the
robber's personal appearance; for some of the passengers testified to
one thing, and some to another. The black beard was a cause of
confusion; only one witness besides Mr. Pollock remembered that the
man wore such a beard. Mr. Pollock, however, was positive as to this
particular, and it seemed as if he ought to know. It was also
impossible to decide, from conflicting statements, whether the robber
had a mustache or not, and whether it was dark or light in color. The
fact is, the passengers had been so thoroughly frightened at the time
of the assault that the credibility of their testimony was much to be
questioned.
Mr. Pollock reported that for several weeks previous to the robbery he
had suspected that he was being followed. He also reported that on the
day of the robbery he had been in the shop of the largest pawnbroker
in Omaha, and that while he was there two noted Western gamblers had
entered the shop and been presented to him as possible customers. He
had made a trade of some diamonds with one of the men, and, in the
course of the negotiations, had shown his entire stock. While the
trade was in progress a negro on the premises had noticed, lounging
about the front of the shop, a man in a slouch-hat who suggested the
robber. From these circumstances it was decided that the robbery might
be the work of an organized gang, who had been waiting their
opportunity for many days, and had selected one of their number to do
the actual deed.
All his life it had been Mr. Pinkerton's business to study criminals
and understand their natures. He knew that a crime like this one was
much beyond the power of an ordinary criminal. Let a robber be ever so
greedy of gold, reckless of human life, and indifferent to
consequences, he would still think many times before declaring war to
the death upon twelve men in a narrow car, on a swiftly moving train.
This was surely no novice in crime, reasoned Mr. Pinkerton, but a man
whose record would already show deeds of the greatest daring; a brave
fellow, though a bad one. And even among the well-known experienced
criminals there must be very few who were capable of this deed.
Mr. Pinkerton, therefore, set himself to studying the bureau's records
and rogues' gallery to first pick out these few. Page after page of
photographs was turned over, drawer after drawer of records was
searched through, and at last a dozen or more men were decided upon as
sufficiently preeminent to merit consideration in connection with the
present case.
Photographs of these dozen or so were speedily struck off, and
submitted by the detectives to all the men who had been in the
smoking-car at the time of the robbery, to the conductor of the train
and the trainmen, to other passengers, to farmers and others who might
have seen the robber while making his escape, and to various people in
Omaha. The result was startling. Conductor D. M. Ashmore, without
hesitation, selected from the dozen or more portraits one as that of
the robber. Mr. Shaw, the Omaha well-digger, who had sat just behind
the robber, selected the same photograph, and was positive it
pictured the man he had tried to talk to. Other passengers also
picked out this photograph, as did various persons who had caught
sight of the man as he escaped.
The portrait thus chosen by common accord was that of Frank Bruce, one
of the most desperate burglars of the younger generation in the
country, and it seemed only necessary now to find Bruce, to have the
problem solved. Many days were spent, and hundreds of dollars, in
searching for him. Dozens of cities were visited, and every
conceivable effort made to get on his track; but it was not until his
pursuers were almost weary of the chase that he was finally discovered
living quietly in Chicago, on Cottage Grove Avenue, near Thirty-sixth
Street, where he was operating with another high-class burglar,
"Billy" Boyce.
Requisition papers were at once procured from the governor of Iowa on
the governor of Illinois, and men were sent to take Bruce into
custody, when the "shadows" reported that he and Boyce had left for
Milwaukee, where, of course, the requisition papers were valueless.
Fortunately, that same night they attempted a burglary in Milwaukee,
for which they were arrested and held for ninety days. This gave the
Chicago detectives abundant time to identify Bruce as the missing
robber.
Mr. Pinkerton himself went at once to Milwaukee, saw Bruce in the
jail, heard his story, verified its essential facts, and within two
days, to his own complete disappointment, and in spite of himself, had
proved a complete alibi for Bruce. To satisfy himself in this
connection, Mr. Pinkerton brought conductor Ashmore and Mr. Shaw to
Milwaukee, and pointed Bruce out to them; and, after looking carefully
at him, both men declared they had made a mistake in choosing his
portrait, and that Bruce was not the robber.
With Bruce clear, the detectives were again without a suspect, and
almost without a clue. Just here, however, Mr. Pinkerton recalled that
on a trip to the West, some three years previous, to investigate the
case of a man arrested at Reno, Nevada, on a charge of "holding up" a
faro-bank, and while stopping over in Salt Lake City, Utah, he had run
across some sporting men in that city with whom he was well
acquainted, and on his telling them where he was going and what his
business was, one of them, whom Mr. Pinkerton had known for years, had
said: "Why, the man at Reno is innocent. The men who committed that
robbery are in this city. One of them is a smooth-faced boy, about
twenty years of age, and the other is a heavy-set, dark-complexioned
fellow, with a dark mustache. They are the intimate friends and
companions of Jack Denton, the well-known gambler of Salt Lake; and
only a short time ago, at Salt Lake, they entered a house one night,
going in through a rear door, and compelled two ladies, who were just
returned from a ball, to give up a large amount of diamonds."
Though not interested in this particular robbery, Mr. Pinkerton had
mentally jotted down the intimacy of Jack Denton with this class of
people; and he recalled it now in connection with the fact that Jack
Denton was one of the two gamblers to whom Pollock had exposed his
diamonds at the pawnshop in Omaha. He at once decided to secure
definite information in regard to the boy who had been with Denton at
Salt Lake three years earlier. Proceeding immediately to Salt Lake
City, and making cautious inquiries, he learned that the boy in
question, since he first heard of him, had been arrested and convicted
of robbery at Ogden, Utah, and sentenced to one year's term in the
penitentiary. An investigation at the penitentiary disclosed that the
young man had given the name of James Burke, had served out his
sentence under that name, and had been released about one month
previous to the Pollock robbery.
Denton, in the meantime, had left Salt Lake and gone to Omaha, there
to make his home. The boy Burke, argued the detective, had naturally
followed his friend to that place. An accurate description of Burke
was got from the records of the Utah penitentiary, and some idea of
him and his friends was derived from the officials of the prison. But
where to find him in the whole great West was a question.
Inquiries at Salt Lake developed the further fact that Burke had had
one intimate friend there, a man named Marshall P. Hooker. Hooker had
now, however, left Salt Lake and removed to Denver. For a man of his
class, Hooker was unusually talkative, and was known by "crooks"
throughout the country as "Windy" Hooker. Plans were made for keeping
a watch on him and on Jack Denton, in the hope, by "shadowing" the
movements of these two, of ultimately locating Burke.
Through the free talk of Hooker, reported back to the detective, it
was soon learned that Burke was known by the alias of "Kid" McCoy, and
that he had recently been operating on the Pacific coast in "holding
up" faro-banks, and had also been concerned in two large robberies,
one at Lincoln, Nebraska, and the other at Sacramento, California. His
whereabouts at that time, however, were unknown.
Much time had now elapsed since the robbery, and the sensation caused
by it had died out. Jack Denton and his friends seldom spoke of it,
and Hooker never spoke of it unless the subject was introduced to him.
Both men were extremely shy of strangers, and it was almost impossible
for a detective to draw them out, as anybody who introduced the
subject of the robbery was at once looked upon with suspicion. For the
purpose of creating further talk upon the subject, Mr. Pinkerton
caused to be inserted in the Omaha papers an advertisement as follows:
"Five hundred dollars will be paid for any information
leading up to the identification of the party who robbed
William G. Pollock on the Sioux City and Pacific train,
November 4, 1892.
"WILLIAM A. PINKERTON,
"Paxton House, Omaha, Nebraska."
This at once attracted the attention of the local newspaper-men, and
when Mr. Pinkerton arrived in Omaha he was interviewed by all the
papers in the city in regard to the robbery. Thus interest in the
robbery was at once renewed. Denton and the other persons under
suspicion commenced talking of the matter again, none more freely than
Hooker.
The latter was then in Denver. Mr. Pinkerton instructed Mr. James
McParland, Denver superintendent of the Pinkerton Agency, to send for
him, and say to him that he had understood that he (Hooker) could
throw some light on the robbery, and that a large sum of money would
be paid him for the information he gave. Mr. Pinkerton explained to
Mr. McParland that Hooker would lie to him and endeavor to get the
money by giving him false information, but to listen patiently to what
he had to say and lead him on as far as possible without giving him
any money. This done, Mr. Pinkerton further predicted that Hooker
would go back to his cronies and boast of the way he was fooling
Pinkerton and how much money he expected to get; and that eventually,
through his boastings, he would prove the means of locating Burke,
_alias_ McCoy.
And so, precisely, it fell out. Some of Hooker's companions were
Pinkerton detectives, although Hooker did not know them as such, and
they in time reported back that Burke was really the Pollock robber;
that after committing the robbery he had gone back to Omaha, and from
there had gone to Denver. From Denver he went to Salt Lake, and
visited a prisoner in the Salt Lake penitentiary with whom he was
intimate, gave this prisoner some money, and went from Salt Lake west
to the Pacific coast.
Mr. Pinkerton next instructed that the record be examined for daring
"hold-ups" that might have occurred in the country lately traversed by
Burke. It was then found that a faro-bank at Colorado City, a small
place between Manitou Springs and Colorado Springs, had been entered
late at night by a masked robber, who compelled the dealer and other
persons to hold up their hands, took the money in the drawer, and
escaped; that later on a similar robbery had been perpetrated at San
Bernardino, California; that later still the pool-rooms of James
Malone, a noted gambler at Tacoma, Washington, had been treated in the
same manner; and, finally, that a light or pane of glass in a jewelry
store at Sacramento had been broken in and a tray of diamonds snatched
from the window by a daring thief. And all of these deeds, Mr.
Pinkerton learned ultimately through Hooker's talk, had been done by
Burke.
The watch on Denton at Omaha developed little, if anything, except
that a close companionship existed between him and the Omaha
pawnbroker.