Webmaster: griffing@fnal.gov

The hanging tree -- a disagreeable landmark

The following article is taken in its entirety from the Table Rock Argus of July 26, 1900 and is quoted as written.

Out Of The Past – Account of Horse Thieves and Three Hangings

Grand Island, July 20. Some bits of early history of Nebraska were learned a few days ago from R. H. Samson of Hardy, who was in this city visiting his daughter, Mrs. J. H. Harrison. Mr. Samson was one of Nebraska’s earliest settlers, having come to Pawnee County in 1857. After spending some time there he satisfied himself that the country was capable of development, and he went back to Pennsylvania, after his family. Returning to the new territory he settled on a farm near Table Rock. So many people from the Keystone state settled there it might well have been called a Pennsylvania settlement.

Your correspondent asked Mr. Samson to relate some of his experiences in the early days of Nebraska and he unfolded a tale of rare interest, as follows: “Yes, I came west early in life and grew up with the country. I came first in 1857, and brought my family three years later. We settled on an undeveloped piece of land three miles east of where the town of Table Rock now stands. It might be interesting at this point to relate that exactly forty years from the day that we located at this place and began to call it “home” my wife was called to that home from which none returns, and where I expect to meet her soon.

“Our first year [was] in a log house about fourteen feet square, with poles for rafters, and clapboards split and nailed on for roof. Although this house was about as good as any in the vicinity, it was not unusual to have snow sift in and cover the floor to the depth of two or three inches in a night. During the summer of 1861, we built a substantial stone house which we used for thirty-three years, up to the time we left that farm. The old house is still doing service, without apparent signs of decay.

“[During those early years, we took long trips] over the plains with ox teams, hauling large loads of freight and produce to the trading posts further west. Usually we went to Fort Kearney, which was across the river from where the town of Kearney now stands, but sometimes we went as far as Denver. Very little money was in circulation in those days, all business being done by trading, and those trips were the only means of obtaining cash. The loads usually consisted of corn, butter, eggs, meat, etc., and we sometimes cleared only a small amount from eight to twenty dollars above the expenses of a trip.

“I made one trip with corn to a place called Dobytown, west of Kearney, hauling it over two hundred miles, and selling it for forty cents per bushel. We often hauled wheat to Nebraska City and sold it for forty cents. My most profitable trip was in the winter of 1864 when I sold my load at a trading station in what is now Adams County, getting twenty cents for pork, eighteen cents for lard, and sixty cents for butter.

“We always made these trips in quite large parties, and while we were never molested by the Indians, we often saw the marks of their depredations, where they had burned property after having murdered the settlers or teamsters. While I was away on these trips my wife would stay alone with the children on the farm. Many Indians were roaming over the country, and they would often go into the house. Sometimes they carried small articles away with them, but none of the family was ever harmed.

“During our return trip from Denver, our party driving about one hundred oxen was overtaken by the overland coach somewhere near the Colorado line. As it passed us our oxen became frightened and stampeded. All the animals went over the prairie in a mad rush except one team. Fortunately our wagons were empty and no particular damage was done except the wagons and yokes, but the entire day was spent in gathering up the oxen and wagons, and getting ready to resume the journey. This I have often thought was the most amusing incident of any of my trips.

“One interesting and exciting incident in the early history of Pawnee County occurred during the holidays of the year 1863. I had just returned from a western trip and found the country very much excited over the operations of a gang of horse thieves. A man who gave his name as Paul Clifton had been shot and wounded by a man named Duggan, who lived east of Humboldt. He had been concealed and nursed to health by one Riley, who lived in a log house near the Nemaha River Bridge. This house was later used as a barn on what is known as the “Blacklow farm.” If the walls of this old house could speak they would reveal the mystery of many incidents of early days in this community, as it was the rendezvous for thieves and crooks for several years.

“When Clifton recovered from his wound, he was joined by a man named Catron, and together they stole a team of horses belonging to Andrew Fellers. They had barely started with the horses when they were overtaken by Mr. Fellers. Catron tried to talk with him, but Clifton remarked that dead men told no tales and was about to shoot. He was prevented by Catron.  Fellers beat a hasty retreat and raised the alarm. A party of about a dozen followed them, successfully keeping the trail until they reached the home of an uncle of Catron across the [Missouri] river in Iowa. Here the thieves were surrounded and captured and brought back to Table Rock.

“They were taken to a house occupied by the Gailbraith family, which stood somewhere near where the mansion of Hon. C. H. Norris now stands. The prisoners were promised that the law should be allowed to guard them that night. The temper of the people was aroused to a dangerous pitch by the work of the thieves and parties of men gathered early in the evening, coming from all parts of the country. Liquor was freely consumed and the people became more and more excited.  It became apparent that the prisoners were in danger.

“Along about 11 o’clock the house was surrounded by about fifty men, all disguised with masks made of handkerchiefs, and the room was soon full, each man with drawn revolver, demanding the prisoners. At first the occupants of the house thought it was a rescuing party and Mr. Gailbraith showed fight, but was persuaded to desist by entreaties of his wife and daughters, who were frantic with fright.

“The mob laid hold of the prisoners and started with them to the door, when Catron, the more desperate of the two, stooped and pulled his boot from his foot, thereby releasing the chain. As he did so he was shot by one of the party, a man yet living and respected in the county. The ball entered Catron’s shoulder and ranged downward into his body. He had released himself from the chain and started across the room, when he was shot again by the same party, the ball slightly wounding him in the breast. When he fell, the mob thought he was dead and paid no further attention to him. They took the other prisoner to a place about where the old camp meeting ground is, south of town, and hanged him to the limb of a tree.

“In the meantime, Catron revived and made his escape from the house through a bedroom window. Mr. Peevy and myself had been jostled about by the mob and pushed outside. We did not notice that Catron was still alive until after he had made good his escape. The wounded man went east across the stream, but thinking he was going to die, he came back to the house of Benjamin Ball near the lake at the north edge of town. Mr. Ball came for assistance and Mr. Giddings and myself went down with him. We remained with Catron the balance of the night endeavoring to stop the flow of blood and relieve his sufferings.

“Catron thought he was going to die, and talked freely to us of his past. He said he was honest and respected while a young man, and his first criminal act was to join Walker’s filibustering expedition to Nicaragua. Returning to this county he had joined a gang known as the “Red Legs of Kansas.” Their chief occupation was horse stealing, the horses being sold to a contractor at Marysville, Kansas. They had expected to take the Fellers team to Marysville, if they had not been discovered. He had promised his wife that he would change his ways, and he had fully expected to soon begin to lead an honest life. He said that it was only justice that had overtaken him.

“In the morning it was learned by the people that he was not dead. They soon found out where he was, and it became apparent that he was yet in danger of being mobbed.  Everybody for miles around had come to town. A number of citizens who were inclined to let the law take its course, made every effort to save the prisoner, and speeches were made by Presiding Elder Giddings, and several others, but it was no use. About noon a vote was taken and it was decided to hang the prisoner. They got a rope and came down to the house. I was alone with Catron when I saw them coming, so I took my hat and started away. Catron asked me not to leave him, but I went away rather than to see what was sure to follow.

“When the mob came to the house, Catron’s wonderful nerve never left him and he told them he would die like a man. He asked for a paper and pencil, and wrote a letter to his wife, but I do not know that it was ever delivered. The mob took him and placed him on a horse, as he was too weak to walk. A rope was swung over the limb of a tree near by, and after adjusting the rope around his own neck, Catron swung himself from the horse and hanged until he choked to death, without making any struggle whatever.

“In the meantime it had become known that the man named Riley had harbored them. The mob went and got him that night and he was taken to a grove near the town bridge and was hanged to a tree with his feet almost touching the ground. The tree was one of the finest in the neighborhood on property owned by Elder Giddings who considered it a disagreeable landmark and soon had it cut down.

It is needless to say that that community was not bothered any more by horse thieves.  They preferred to go where punishment was not so sudden and severe. Henry Cooper, one of the old settlers, afterward built a house near the place where Riley was hanged and lived there until last spring. Andrew Fellers died five or six years ago. Benjamin Ball is still alive at Table Rock.

Another incident of more than passing interest occurred in the winter of 1858. Table Rock was in the ‘underground railroad’ and three slaves were in Giddings’ cellar for the day, being on their road to Canada. A storekeeper named Strickler, proposed to hold the slaves for the reward. Three other men joined with him in the speculation. The Negroes were well armed and wanted Giddings to let the four men come down after them as they were anxious to fight. This was avoided, however. While the plotters were discussing their plans in Strickler’s store, the Negroes were helped out at a back window. William Fellers and Newman Sanford were waiting for them at the edge of town and safely conveyed them to Peru, where they went across the river on their way to Canada and to freedom. Mr. Fellers is still living at Table Rock and no doubt remembers the risky trip.

Mr. Samson said he remembered when the elder Mr. [Horatio] Gere lived at Table Rock and when his son, C. H. Gere,[1] now editor of the Journal, went to Lincoln with Governor Butler, when Lincoln was a small village. He also remembered when Indians killed John N. Gere, brother of the Journal editor. Gere’s body was recovered and brought back to Table Rock for burial. The headstone over the grave bears only this epitaph, “Killed by Indians.” The old soldiers of Table Rock named their organization, “John N. Gere post, G. A. R.” in honor of their first dead.  J. H. HARRISON. – STATE JOURNAL.