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Title: Stephen Dee Richards - Non-Fiction
*This is a real event that happened.
Stephen Dee Richards, who was hanged on the 26th
day of April 1879, at Minden, Nebraska, for the murder of Peter Anderson, was born in the state of Ohio, and came West in 1876, in search of adventure.
Part 1: Introduction
Part 2: The Confession
Part3: Second Confession
Part 4: A History of His Killings and Crimes
Part 5: The Execution
Second Part: The Confession
I was born March 18, 1856, at Wheeling, West Virginia.
My parents are American born, and were
always considered good, reliable people, though my
father made no profession of religion. My mother
was a Methodist, and quite strict in the faith. When
I was six years old, my parents removed to Monroe
county, Ohio, and afterwards to Noble county, the
same state, where they lived until I was eleven years
old, when they went to Warren, in Jefferson county,
and soon after to Mt. Pleasant, in the same county,
where my mother died, September 16, 1871, when I
was 15 years old. Mt. Pleasant is largely inhabited
by Quakers, and when I lived there was a very orderly
town. My parents were not strict, but mother used
her influence over me as a christian woman, and I regularly
attended Sunday School and some one of the
different churches of Mt. Pleasant. During the time
I lived there I went to school and learned something
of arithmetic and grammar, and was not considered a
very bad boy by my teachers. I was a little wild at
times, and sometimes attended dances and other evening
entertainments, but did nothing positively wrong
while there.
A short time before I came West, I sought and won
the affections of a virtuous young lady by the name
of Anna Millhorne. We were engaged to be married,
and would have been in a year or two if I had not
been arrested, for in all my wanderings and wickedness,
I kept up correspondence with her. I may say
that I loved her; at any rate, I loved her as much as
I can love any one.
From the time my mother died until leaving Ohio,
I was most of the time at home, but was working
around among farmers and others. At this time I
opened correspondence with a number of bad men in
the West, among whom were notorious desperadoes.
I also began to pass counterfeit money, which I got
of a New York man through one.of my acquaintances,
and through them and in various ways picked up
the correspondence I have above referred to. In February,
1876, I came West to seek my fortune. I had
no definite object in view, or any definite destination,
but wanted to see the country and live easy and avoid
work. My first stop was at Burlington, Iowa, to visit
Bill Lee, one of my correspondents, who kept a house
of ill-fame opposite Burlington. This man has since
been hung for killing Jessie McCarthy, an inmate of
his house, and a bad crowd both of them. From Burlington
I went to morning Sun, Louisa county, Iowa,
where I worked for Meyers Jarvis on a farm, and then
I went to Mt. Pleasant, same state, and engaged in
the capacity of an attendant in the Insane Asylum.
While here I had my first experience in handling
u stiffs," and it didn't strike me as being very disagreeable
either. I remained here until the fall of 1876,
when I began tramping the state in regular style. I
went to Kansas City^ then up to Hastings, and thence
to Kearney Junction.
Two weeks after my arrival at Kearney I was coming
in on horseback from the South, and fell in with
a stranger, also on horseback; we went on in company
;
at dark we lost the road, and finally camped between
Dobytown and the wagon bridge. Here we built a
fire, and played cards for money, and I won nearly all
the stranger had. He claimed that it was not honorably
done, and we got into a quarrel, but went to bed
finally, and next morning started for Kearney. We
had not gone far when the stranger stopping his horse,
said: " We may as well settle this little matter between
us here and now."
, "In what way?" I asked.
"Either give me back my money or fight," he
replied.
I refused to refund, and he got kind of savage, and
so I shot him. The ball struck him above the left
eye, and killed him almost instantly. After killing
him I dragged him down to the river and pitched him
in. He was a man near six feet high, weighed about
150 pounds, dark hair and eyes, and wore a good suit
of dark clothes, and was about thirty-five years of
age. I took his horse and went to Kearney, and
traded it for another, and went from there south to
Phelps County; was gone two or three days, and
when returning, while near the old " Walker Eanche,"
I overtook a stranger, on foot. He asked me if I
knew what had become of the man I was in company
with on a certain day, referring to the man I had last killed, and said he had seen me with him, and that he
had disappeared. On inquiry I found the two were
friends, and land-hunters. I denied any knowledge
of the man, or ever having seen him. He called him
John ; I did not learn the last name. The stranger
asked me so many questions that I got nervous, and
it seemed to me it would be safest to kill him to stop
his mouth; and for that purpose I asked him to ride
an extra horse I was leading, which he did; and the
first opportunity I got, when he wasn't looking, I
shot him, the ball passing through the back of the
head, and killing him dead. He was a younger man
than the other, and dressed about the same. I never
heard of either one of them afterwards.
This occurred about fifteen miles northwest of
"Walker's Ranche," and there I stayed all night and
slept in the barn. I sold the extra horse in the morning,
and started for Kearney. On the way 1 stopped
at Jasper Harlson's, and while there, Mrs. Harlson,
being a very free talker, asked me if I had been fighting.
I asked her why she asked me that question;
and she replied that there was blood on my shirt bosom
and collar. I did not know it, and was startled,
but remarked, in a joking way, that it must be the
blood of some of the men I had murdered. The subject
was then dropped.
I do not remember how long I stopped in this vicinity,
but it was -only for a day or two, when I went to
Kearney, and then started for Cheyenne, via the U.
P. Railroad, stopping at Plum Creek, North Platte,
Ogallala, and Sidney, occupying in all ten days in the
trip. I had no particular business at Cheyenne or
along the road, but I was uneasy and restless, and all
I cared for was adventure, and that too of the most
exciting kind. I do not remember all what I did
in Cheyenne, but I passed the time principally with
the " boys," and think I had my share of fun. However,
my sojourn in that place was not long, when I
fell in company with two young men who were on
their way to Kansas, and I joined them, not caring
much where I went. I had been calling myself William
Hudson up to this time, and went by this name
till I reached Kansas City, when I " shook" my friends,
and once more took the name of Richards. At Kansas
City I took my first glass of liquor. Thought I
should be arrested for murder, or for passing counterfeit
money, of which I had a good supply. My first
streak of conscience struck me at Kansas City, and I
determined to reform. So I went about twenty miles
outside of the city and went to work as a farm hand
;
here I took sick with a fever, and lay six weeks, and
was well cared for. I bore a good name while here,
and left the last of October and went north into Iowa,
and stopped three weeks at Mt. Pleasant, Morning
Sun, and other points; the last one was Maquota. I
then went to Cedar Rapids, and while there, bought a
span of horses and a buggy of a stranger, paying for
same mostly in counterfeit money. On trying to pass
it, the young man of whom I had made the purchase,
discovered the nature of the cash, and about three
days after the same was made, hunted me up and
wanted good money or the property returned. I refused
to do either, and he threatened to have me arrested.
Then I made some concessions and began to talk business. All this happened in a strip of timber
some three miles from Cedar Rapids. It was just
about dusk and raining. The young fellow had followed
me out there, and the end of it all was that I shot
him. He was a young man, about- 19 years of age,
rather tall and slim, and with light hair and eyes. I
felt a little squeamish, but got over it in a moment,
and at once set to work burying the dead. I did this
by throwing brush over him, and then I left, taking
the team with me. 1 did not know the young man,
but 1 think he was a stranger in the neighborhood.
I left there as soon as possible, and never heard of the
affair afterwards. Soon after I sold the team for good
money and started West again. About the last of
January, 1877, I reached Lincoln, Nebraska, where I
stopped about ten days. Then I went West via the
B. & M. R. R., making short stops until I reached
Kearney Junction, where some persons were waiting
my coming. My object in stopping at Kearney was
to visit Jasper Harlson, husband of the woman I since
murdered, and Underwood, alias Nixon, a notorious
desperado, who was then awaiting trial for alleged
complicity in the Big Spring Train Robbery, and who
has since been leader in the robbery of the Santa Fe
train. Harlson was awating trial for stealing lumber
off the Platte River bridge at Kearney. Both these
men cut their way out of the jail by means of instruments
furnished them by outside friends (I among the
rest), and made good their escape. The excitement
over this was great in Kearney, and I kept away for a
few days, spending the time riding about the country,
but after a while, everything seeming quiet, I returned
to town, and shortly afterward went to Hastings, about
forty miles east of Kearney, to see a lady friend, and
from there I crossed over to Grand Island, a small
town thirty miles north on the U. P. R. R.
About March 19, 1877, I left Grand Island in company
with a young man by the name of Gemge, to
ride to Kearney on horseback. Night overtook us
when we were between Lowell and Kearney, and we
camped for the night near the south end of the B. & M.
R. R. bridge across the Platte river. About 3 o'clock
in the morning I awoke, and as the moon had risen
and was shining brightly, I thought we had best continue
our journey; so I awoke my companion and told
him that I had concluded to start on. He was furious
at being aroused, and swore at me for doing so. I told
him it was almost morning, and he replied that it was
a d—d lie; it was not after midnight. I told him I
had looked at my watch and it was after 3 o'clock.
He replied that my watch was as big a liar as I was.
I told him it was well for him he did not mean what
he said, and he replied that he did mean just what he
said, and had the tools to back it up. I told him that I
had said I would shoot the first man that called me a
liar, and he said: "You do lie, and I have got right
here (laying his hand on his pistol) what will back me
up." After a little more quarreling, in which he
made repeated threats, I suddenly drew my revolver
and shot him as he was sitting on the ground, with
his hand on his six-shooter. He fell back, shot just
back of the ear with a 32-calibre u blue-jacket " ball.
I then gathered the traps together, and taking both
horses started on, going up the river toward Kearney.
After daylight I left the horse with a settler, and told
him that my partner and I were looking for land, and
to keep the horse until called for, and for what I
know the man keeps the horse yet, for I am sure my
" partner" never called for him.
On the bridge south of Kearney I met some friends,
and with them I went to town and registered at the
Commercial Hotel as F. A. Hogue, and in answer to
numerous inquiries, I said I had just arrived from
Colorado. In Kearney I met several old acquaintances;
among others George Johnson, better known as
u Dutch Henry," and a partner of his by the name of
Hulit, also a Mr. Burns, who was around town with
me nearly all day. March 21, Burns and I were arrested
by the officers of the town and placed in jail.
We did not know why we were arrested that night, but
were told the next morning that we were suspected of
the murder of Peter Geway. I was acquitted, however,
on examination; but Burns was held on the testimony
of a sporting lady he had previously met.
Burns was held until court set, and was then discharged,
no evidence of guilt having been found against
him. This was my first arrest, and before I was told
what it was for I supposed it was for the murder of
the young man Gemge. I was very uneasy, and felt
greatly relieved^when told it was for the murder of
Peter Geway, for of this crime I am entirely innocent.
I now come to that which has given me notoriety,
and for which I am to suffer death, April 26th—the
murder of Mrs. Harlson and her three children, and
the killing of Peter Anderson, the Swede. It is not
necessary for me to detail the events that occurred
from the time I last left Iowa until the above murders
were committed; I will simply describe the killing.
After I was liberated from the jail at Kearney,
1878, where I was confined on a false charge of larceny,
early in June, 1878, and having met with Mrs.
Harlson, she being confined in jail for supposed complicity
in the escape of Mr. Harlson, Underwood,
and Nixon, called on her at her home, remaining over
night. The Harlson family were originally from Illinois,
and were considered a bad " crowd. 5
' Harlson
was a no-account sort of fellow, and his wife was little
better, though she was a shrewd woman, a great
talker, and very inquisitive. She was of medium
height, rather slender of build, sandy brown hair,
gray eyes, rather large, and withal not a bad-looking
woman. The oldest child, Daisy, was about ten years
of age, rather delicate build, sharp, spry, and pretty.
The next was Mabel, a pretty little girl of four years,
and my favorite. Then came Jasper, or " Jesse," the
little boy, two years old. I thought a good deal of
the children, and they in turn hung around me constantly,
and seemed to be very fond of me.
At this meeting in June I came to an understanding
with Mrs. Harlson, that she would give me a deed
of property—quarter section of land—at the expiration
of six months, when she would " prove up."
Price, $600 for farm, crops, etc. After making this
bargain 1 began to work around, and traveled about
the state a good deal, part of the time in Kearney,
Hastings, Bloomington, in all of which places I formed many acquaintances. July 2d I was in Hastings, and
made my headquarters there until October 17th. In
the meanwhile I was at Grand Island some while, and
other places, and on one occasion met Mrs. Harlson,
who was at Grand Island canvassing for subscribers
for a book, and gave her some money ; agreed to
go to her place September 15th, but it was October
18th before I reached there. At this time Mrs. Harlson
made transfer of property to me, and I settled
down for a while at her house.
I have been asked a good many times why I killed
the Harlson family, and I have kept people in ignorance
until now. They are simply these: First, she
talked too much; second, she was too inquisitive;
third, she would have " given me away " had I let her
live. I had told the woman a good deal about myself,
and she had gone through my trunk and looked over
my letters. More than once had she told me that I
was guilty of murder; and so, knowing what she did,
I thought it the safest plan to put her out of the way.
I had come to this conclusion some while, and set the
time Sunday morning, November 3d.
The house is a sod one, containing two rooms—the
first with two beds and a crib, and the other a kitchen,
where the cooking was done. In one corner of the
room was the bed occupied by Mrs. Harlson and the
two little girls. At the foot of the bed was the crib,
wherein slept the baby boy, " Jesse." In the opposite
corner of the room was my bed, and on the night
of the murder this was occupied by a man by the
name of Brown, a friend of Mrs. H., and myself. It
was about 10 o'clock when I went to bed; Brown had
gone a few minutes before. At this time the children
were asleep, and shortly after retiring, myself, Mrs.
Harlson went to bed. We had no words of dispute
in the evening, and nothing unusual happened. I slept
some during the night, but not sound; once I awakened
Brown, and he growled considerably, and for a
moment I had a notion to kill him along with the rest.
This was Sunday morning, and about dawn I got up.
I had slept with my clothes on, and therefore did not
need to dress. The first thing I did was to awaken
Brown, who got up at once, and went to feed the team
and do other things about the stable. It was scarcely
light at this time, and I went out, and when about
twenty rods northwest of the house, near a straw stack
on the plowed ground, I dug a hole with the spade,
and then returned to the house. This occupied about
thirty minutes, and was not very hard work. When on
the road to the house I stopped two or three times
and looked around me and listened. I was ready for
any sort of murder then and would have killed my
best friend had he been in my way.
Previous to going out I had placed an axe near the
door of the house, and immediately on returning I
took this and cautiously slipped in the house, and
approached the bed in which lay Mrs. Harlson asleep.
She did not hear me ; she was breathing regularly,
and the children were also sleeping soundly. I looked
over the situation pretty well before I made the first
move. Once more I listened—I could hear nothing .
but the steady breathing of the sleepers, and it seemed
to me then that my heart stood still. At this moment
—I do not know what tempted me—I passed across the room, and pulled aside the curtain just a trifle.
A ray of sunlight came in and slanted across the bed
of Mrs.*Harlson, right over the partially covered face
of Daisy. At this she moved a little, and murmured
something like " Mamma, Mamma!" and then went
on sleeping. If she had said anything more I might
have lost my courage; but the time had come—now
or never; and, without waiting any longer, I approached
the bed of the mother, and, getting good
aim at her head, raised the axe, and struck her once
very hard on the left side of the head. The blow must
have killed her almost instantly, for she never spoke,
and scarcely stirred. To makefsure*of my work, I hit
her a second time, near the temple, and then I turned
to Daisy, who was still sleeping, with one little hand
over her head, and^a few"curls and part of her face
visible. She laid between her mother and Mabel, with
her head toward the foot of the bed—Mabel laid next
to the wall. I struck her twice with the flat of the
axe, on the left side of the head, near the temple. She,
too, stirred but little, and made no noise. Next I
killed Mabel—struck her on the forehead with the flat
side of the axe, one blow, and killed her dead. Then
I killed "Jesse," who laid sleeping in the crib at the
foot of the bed. I struck him three blows, and killed
him dead. I then stood still a moment, looking at
the bed; and, as Daisy moaned and murmured, and
writhed around some, I struck her two or three times
more, and then she laid quite still! All this time
Brown was at the stable, and did not return to the
house for some time.
The question now was how to get the bodies out of
sight. I had not much time to lose. First, I took
the mother to the grave I had dug, and threw her in.
Then I came back and carried both girls at the same
time, and chucked them in the same hole with the
mother; then I took the baby, Jesse, and threw him
in with the rest; covered them all over with a blanket,
and scattered straw and dirt over them. The
mother was dressed, but the two girls were in nightclothes,
and the baby had on a wrapper. After all
this was done, which did not occupy thirty minutes,
I returned to the house, washed my hands, which
were slightly bloody, and then went to the stable
where Brown was fooling around, and after doing a
few chores, he and I started for Hastings, and were
two miles away bw sun-up. At Juniata Brown left
me. At Hastings—three days, I made a few calls,
but returned Tuesday evening home, or at Harlson's,
and the next day bought a load of corn, and went on
as though nothing had occurred. When asked about
Mrs. Harlson, I said that she and the children had
gone off with Brown, and probably would not return
soon, if they did at all.
I killed Peter Anderson, December 9, 1878. He
was a Swede, though he spoke good English. He
lived all alone in a little house seven miles south-west
of Minden. He was a bachelor. I had agreed with
him to change work in building sod buildings, and on
or about December 1, 1 went there and began to help
him in his labor. His place was about five miles
from the Harlson property. I worked there December
9, when, between the hours of twelve and two
o'clock Monday, in the day-time, as he had been sick a day or two, he accused me of poisoning him, I
denied it, and he called me a liar. We were in the
house at the time, and he was preparing dinner.
When he called me a liar, I told him if he repeated
it I would hit, though I had no idea of killing him at
the time. He was not at all frightened at my words,
but called me a liar again at once; then I knocked
him down, and hit him two or three times, and then
let him up. I thought he would not care to repeat
the trouble, and I asked him if he would not give up.
He replied, " No; I'll fight you all day," and at once
started to pick up an axe; but I was too quick for
him, and, seizing a hammer that lay near by, struck
him a blow over the left eye; he fell, and I struck
him twice more on the forehead, breaking his skull.
He threw up his hand, uttered a cry, and fell to the
floor dead! I was not mad or excited at the time,
but was altogether very cool. I simply was bound to
protect myself, and I did it. I pushed the body one
side, and sat down and ate my dinner. After doing
this, I took the body, carried it down cellar, and
covered it up with clay and coal. Then I came up
stairs, and, looking out of the window, saw some men
coming in a wagon. I thought at first they would
not stop; but they did, and after rattling at the door
awhile, called out, u Pete, Pete!" but Pete didn't
answer. Then they went away; but soon returned
with more men, and I thought something was going
to happen then sure. I was out then hitching up the
team when they arrived, and one of the men asked
me where Pete was, and I told him he had gone to
see a man he had bought some wheat of some time
before. I was about to go away then, but they stopped
me, and said they wanted to see Pete before I
went away, and I said, " I will wait till he comes, or
you can go and see him. 55 They asked for the key of
the house, which I gave them, and they went in; and,
while they were in the house, I fed the horses hay,
and, taking the gray horse, rode home.
I was quite sure these men wTould find the body,
and then I knew the game was up.
As I rode home, I thought it all over, and concluded
it was getting too hot for me there, and that I
had better skip. So I went home, changed my clothes,
arranged with neighbor boy to have my trunk taken
to Kearney and shipped to Omaha, and by Friday
night I was on my way out of the country. I determined
to travel under the name of Gallagher, and so
registered wherever I stopped. Went to Bloomington,
and from there to Red Cloud by conveyance, and
then took the train for Hastings. Here I stayed^several
days, and then took the B. & M. to Omaha, and
from there east via the 0. B. & Q,
I need not detail the incidents of my trip to Ohio.
I went there expecting to stay, as I knew it would be
dangerous for me to return to Nebraska. In due time
I reached my old home at Mt. Pleasant, Ohio, and
found part of my friends there. I was not there long,
when, one day, while in company with two young
ladies, on our way to attend a party, I was arrested,
and soon after taken to Steubenville, and from there
brought to Nebraska.
What I have written may not be a full history of
my life, but all the important events are given, and as nearly correct as possible. I have killed, in all,
nine persons. I am 23 years of age, and am to be
executed on the 26th day of April, 1879. I cannot
say that I regret what I have done—I can't say why
—
but I don't. I am a member of no church, and no
society. I never played a game of cards until I came
West, or drank a drop of liquor. It has been thought
by some that I am insane, but this is all a myth. I
am perfectly sound in mind and body, and never felt
better in my life than I do at present.
There is one thing more of which I wish to speak.
I have taken particular pains not to bring my lady
friends—of whom I had a good many—into any of
my scrapes. Near Hastings there lived one whom I
called " Dolly." I thought a good deal of her, but I
think it was she who directed the officers of the place
to find me. She must have done this through fear,
for otherwise I think she would not. I passed a good
deal of time at her house, and was always well entertained.
And now I have little left to tell. My trial was a
short affair, and like a small horse, quickly curried.
I was taken from the Kearney jail to Minden, early
Wednesday morning, January 15th, and the trial commenced
before Judge Gaslin, and a jury of twelve citizens,
at 9 o'clock the same morning, and by 4 o'clock
in the afternoon I was convicted of the killing of Peter
Anderson, and sentenced to be hanged on the 26th day
of April, 1879. I plead not guilty to the charge of
murdering Anderson, for I killed him in self defense,
and I think was perfectly justifiable in doing it. It
was simply a matter of death for one of us, and so I
killed him to save myself. After the trial I was
brought direct to Lincoln and lodged in prison for safekeeping,
and here I am now with a full consciousness
that I am to swing in a very short time. I should like to
explain to you what a man's feelings are who is about
to be hanged. It seems strange that I should sleep
and eat well, that I should be anything bat gloomy
and despondent; but that is something the explanation
of which I do not know myself. Since my coming
here, I have done considerable reading—have read
history and travels, with a few biographies, all of which
I have enjoyed. The Warden and Mr. Nobes, the
Deputy, have been very kind to me, and I have not
wanted for anything to make me comfortable, if there
can be such a thing as " comfort" to a man who is
about to be hanged.
And here I may as well close the chapter.,
Eespectfully,
Stephen Dee Richards.
Nebraska State Prison, Jan. 23, 1879.
Next Part: Second Confession