Love and Death in Newark
A fiction written and assembled from newspaper accounts, records of the coroner’s inquest,
testimony of witnesses, letters, diaries, oral history, hearsay, and the imagination of L.J.
Reynolds. The enduring credit for this tale goes to the unnamed writers for the various
newspapers who first reported this story in 1871.
July 2, 1871
The Dead Man’s Attire
(Mrs. Mary Wilson’s testimony)
“No clothing was put on or taken off after he was shot.”
(New York Times)
He appeared to have been dressing when the assault upon the inner door began. His left leg was in his drawers. One sock was on, while the other lay beneath the bed.
(Autopsy Report)
His nightshirt was begrimed with powder so the weapon must have been held very near.
(Lt. Kirwan’s testimony)
“The deceased had on a pair of drawers, an undershirt, one stocking; his drawers were untied at the ankle of the foot that was bare. I searched his clothes for a pistol but found none in the garments, consisting of his pants and vest which were carefully folded and placed on a chair in the bedroom.”
The Wound
(Autopsy Report)
The bullet passed through the left wing of Mr. Halsted’s nose, running obliquely down toward his breast. By turning the head to the left and flexing it forward I was able to advance the probe through the opening in the nose and enter into the opening made into the thorax, about two inches to the left of the sternum, and two inches below the collar bone, the direction being slightly from left to right. The ball passed through the fat that surrounds the heart, thence through the large vessel that conveys the blood from the heart to the lungs . . . death was caused by strangulation, blood getting into the windpipe and rendering him speechless.
The Weapon
(Officer Callen’s testimony)
“I searched George Botts when he was brought to the station, and took from him a seven-barrel pistol, $36, and a three-blade pocket knife.”
(Record of Inquest)
Lt. Kirwan, of the police, here exhibited a revolver, a silver-mounted, seven-barrel pistol, one barrel having been discharged, which Mrs. Wilson recognized as one she had often seen him with before. “That is the pistol,” she said.
The Site of the Difficulty
(New York Times)
The house is at 95 South Street, a three-story wooden building set among a number of smaller residences occupied principally by Germans. The first floor is used as a lager beer saloon and is kept by one John Spies.
(John Spies’ testimony)
“I locked the door leading from the saloon to the hall and the stairs to the upper floors. I did this to prevent him going up to Mrs. Wilson’s rooms.”
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
The place is at a convenient distance from Mr. Halsted’s handsome house on South Broad Street, three blocks west of Railroad Avenue.
The Saloon-keeper’s Daughter
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“My name is Henrietta Spies. I work in my father’s saloon at 95 South Street, washing and cleaning up after them.”
The Upper Rooms
(New York Times)
The back two rooms of the third floor had been hired for Mrs. Wilson by Mr. Halsted, he representing himself as her legal counsel. Three months’ rent was paid in advance.
(New York Tribune)
The bedchamber, where the crime was perpetrated, is a small room over the front hall, entered from the sitting room. Its contents are a bed—the clothing of which was tumbled—a wash stand, three chairs, and two trunks.
(New York Times)
The apartment was neatly furnished and showed that the woman has not been in need of funds. In the inner chamber were several traveling trunks, one of them bearing the address: Mrs. Mary E. Wilson, care of John P. Hall, No. 1847 Ridge Ave., Philadelphia.
The Chamber Pot Poised
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“I heard a man at the door of the house around two o’clock this morning; he rang the doorbell two or three times; I leaned out my window and asked him what he wanted; he said he wanted to come in and see Mrs. Wilson. I told him we would not allow any man in at that time of night, but he would not leave. He said he had to see her. I then went up to Mrs. Wilson’s door. She and Mr. Halsted were enjoying a late supper of pickled oysters. I asked her if she would go down and speak a few words with the man and get him away from our door. She said he was a man who had kept company with her in the past; who had wanted to marry her; but she had refused, and that she didn’t want to see him. I went back down to the open window; I told him again to go away, but he said he would not leave that spot all night. I then told him I would send for the police; and he said he didn’t care if I sent for a dozen policemen, he was going to stay there. I got the chamber pot from under my bed and went back to the window. I could only see his shape in the darkness. He was a big man, tall, with broad shoulders. I told him: “If you don’t go away I’ll throw water on you, or worse.” He said nothing for a while and I kept the chamber pot balanced on the windowsill. Then his big shoulders heaved and I thought he was about to throw up on the steps, but I was mistaken. He was crying—sobbing in a pitiful way; and between his sobs he said that he loved her . . . that he loved her as well as he loved his own life.”
The Woman’s Pedigree
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
The unfortunate woman was raised by Jonathan Oliver, a stonemason, and his wife, the couple being otherwise childless. Her exact origins are unknown, but it is believed she had a normal upbringing in the Oliver household despite their advanced ages. At seventeen she married Michael Wilson, also a mason by trade, and bore him several children, all of whom died at a young age.
(New York Times)
For years past, Mrs. Wilson bore the reputation of a member of the demi-monde, residing for the most part in Newark, sometimes migrating for a month or so to Philadelphia.
(New York Tribune)
Though an abandoned woman, she was of exquisite taste and dressed plainly but expensively. Upon searching her room yesterday, among her effects were a savings bank book for $240, and several letters, among which was one written upon the death of a young child, which was beautifully written, and manifested much talent.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
She has been a woman of prepossessing appearance, but has now scarcely an attraction. Her hands and feet are small and well-proportioned and her ankles are pleasantly slim. After a time, the liaison became known, exciting special comment because of the social incompatibility of the parties, he being an educated and celebrated man of good family, while the woman held a low place in a very inferior grade of society.
(Henrietta Spies)
“She was beautiful, and she knew a thing or two about men.”
(Mrs. Wilson)
“What a wicked woman, what a wicked woman I am.”
The Last Supper
(New York Times)
The table was covered with a white cloth upon which stood the remains of two bottles of pickled oysters, a bottle of piccalilli, a bottle of Schiedam Schnapps, a bottle of port wine, a can of condensed coffee, one of condensed milk, and crockery sufficient for the accommodation of two persons. Nearby lay a volume of Byron, with a paper mark at Don Juan, while another volume by the same author was opened at one of the stormiest passages in Manfred, beginning, “We are the fools of time.” Besides this there was a curious collection of maxims on “Love” from Walt Whitman and other amatory poets. There was also upon the table, as if it had just been read, a scrap of poetry, “Nevermore,” which paints an eternal parting between lovers, and was in strange harmony with the future of the two that were supping together for the last time that night.
Portrait of the Victim as a Young Man
(New York Times)
The deceased was born in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and was one of thirteen children of ex-Chancellor Halsted; he was in the 53rd year of his age, was graduated at Princeton College in 1839, and studied law in his father’s office.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Mr. Halsted was familiarly known by the sobriquet of “Pet” which was given him when a child by his aunts with whom he was an especial favorite.
(John Swain’s testimony)
“I was at Princeton with ‘Pet.’ He showed great promise even then, though he was less self-assured than was later the case. He won all the academic prizes, was president of the Cliosophic Society, and was masterful in the art of debate. Even during his school years, he sometimes said the most outlandish things with so much conviction that you found yourself looking at the matter in a whole different light. He was brilliant that way. Regrettably, his moral lapses were his undoing.”
(John Spies’ testimony)
“He was a little man until you got to know him.”
(New York Times)
In 1840 he married the daughter of the late Samuel Meeker, one of the wealthiest men in Newark, against her father’s wishes. . . .
(New York Times)
[He] left [Newark] in 1849 to go to California, under the influence of the gold-fever epidemic which then raged among the young men.
(Coroner Chase)
“He knew everybody, and of course, everybody knew him.”
The Milkman Cometh
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“At seven o’clock the milkman came and knocked at the back door. I was upstairs and the door was opened by Callie. A few minutes after, I heard someone knocking on Mrs. Wilson’s door and calling to her. I knew it was the same man by the sound of his voice. I went to the foot of the stairs where I could see him. I did not speak to him but after a few moments he saw me and stopped knocking. He asked if she was at home and I said no. He then came down the stairs. As he went out he said: ‘She’s in there all right, and he’s there with her.’ I didn’t answer him and he left. I should have locked the door behind him.”
(John Spies’ testimony)
“I am the father of the last witness. I had no knowledge of a man knocking at the door of my house at two o’clock. I have known George Botts a good while; I saw him before seven o’clock this morning at Charles Canfield’s grocery store at Herman and South Street; he asked to buy a bottle of brandy but Canfield refused. Later he appeared at my saloon; he asked me if I owned the house where Mrs. Wilson lived; I said yes; he said he’d bet $10 Halsted was up there with her, as he and Mrs. Wilson had come from Patterson together yesterday afternoon.”
A Peddler in Charcoal
(New York Tribune)
About seven years ago the woman became acquainted with the murderer, George Botts, otherwise known as “Charcoal,” from his trade as a peddler in charcoal.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
The murderer is an Englishman, a native of Lancastershire, who has resided in Newark much of his life. Despite having little education, he carried on a flourishing business as a charcoal peddler. He is the father of five children. In 1866 he was driven from his wife on the ground of her infidelity, and soon after formed the acquaintance of Mrs. Wilson, and lived with her in various parts of the city; part of the years 1869 and 1870 occupying apartments over Garrigan’s Grocery store on the east side of Railroad Avenue, near the Morris and Essex depot. The woman would often leave the city and be absent at Trenton, Philadelphia, and other places for days and weeks at a time, he sending her money and she writing him letters filled with the most loving expressions, which letters he would get some friend to read to him.
(New York Times)
He was a member of the Thirteenth Regiment during the war, and deserted at the Battle of Antietam.
(Henrietta Spies’ diary)
She said being big did not make him a man.
To Marry Or To Burn
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
In an open drawer was a quantity of hair bound in a white ribbon and a hymnbook marked “Mary E. Oliver.” There was besides a little copy of the New Testament, the mark left significantly at the seventh chapter of 1 Corinthians with its oft-quoted passage, “For it is better to marry than to burn.” Beside this there was a Bible in which the records of her family were carefully kept, and the name of a little dead daughter has been blotted with tears. It seems that Mrs. Wilson was much affected by the sickness of this daughter, and promised amendment and reform in case of her recovery—the sincerity of which was never to be tested.
Of Doubtful Propriety
(New York Tribune)
A number of gaudy, and one or two indecent, pictures hung upon the walls. There were also a volume or two of George Sands’ works and a photographic album, which contained pictures of doubtful propriety, and likenesses among which were some well-known citizens of Newark. Near this lay another, which contained pictures of her dead children laid out in their coffins, but even this was strangely disfigured by the pictures of some pretty, but well-known, girls.
David and Goliath
(New York Times)
The deceased was small in stature, but possessed a sinewy frame remarkable for strength and agility.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
The murderer stands six feet two inches in his stocking feet and is a Hercules compared to his victim.
(New York Tribune)
One of his hobbies was pugilistic exercises, in which he was adept, for although a short man, he was a match for two unscientific men of heavier weight, having proved it once in the ring.
(New York Times)
He is an Englishman of huge frame, forty-six years old. . . .
(New York Tribune)
His hair was thin and inclined to curl, and like his beard and moustache, which were unusually long, was of an iron gray color.
(New York Times)
His features are handsome and prepossessing, his forehead being high, his eyes large and well set, and his nose is aquiline. He wears a long brown beard, and his skin is as sunburnt as that of an Indian.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
His pursuit of the “manly art” often led him into company hardly fitted for one of his social position.
The Wages of the Sinners
(New York Tribune)
From his trade, it is said, Botts drew a comfortable income of over $3,000 a year.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Mr. Halsted was lavish in his expenditure, and as generous as a prince when he had money; and when money failed him, his credit was liberally bestowed.
Valor Before Discretion; A Fatal Vanity
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
He knew that Botts had been lurking around the building all evening.
(New York Times)
He expressed himself confident that he could whip his antagonist and never tried to avoid him.
(Mary Wilson’s testimony)
“We were aware that Botts was lurking about my place; about two o’clock this morning, the girl down stairs told me a man wanted to see me. I heard and knew his voice; I told the girl to tell him I was not at home. I urged Mr. Halsted to leave, for I feared he might return; but Mr. Halsted expressed himself perfectly capable of dealing with Botts, should it come to that.”
Women and Drinking
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Botts is said to have been ordinarily a quiet man when not under the influence of liquor, but when drinking was apt to become abusive and very violent in his actions. In recent months his mind seemed to be taken up entirely by thoughts of Mrs. Wilson and he was frequently intoxicated. In March last he entered the Eighth Ward Hotel where he boarded, and displaying a revolver, said he intended to shoot Pet Halsted. Mr. Carr, the bartender, took the pistol from him, and concealed it in a drawer, where it remained for some time, when last week Botts seeing it by accident claimed it. On Friday last Botts went out with some coal for delivery and returned intoxicated, and on Saturday was again drunk. In the evening he met several gentlemen, and wanted them to drink with him, and while at the Eighth Ward Hotel displayed the revolver, and said he intended to use it. At 1:00 a.m. Sunday morning he entered Bailey’s Restaurant, opposite the Morris and Essex depot, and had something to eat in company with a person known as Slim Jim. He asked Slim to accompany him down to the Neck, as he had “some trouble and wanted someone to see him out.” Slim Jim refused to go, and Botts started off alone.
(Henrietta Spies’ diary)
I put the chamber pot back under the bed and laid down again but I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of what he said about loving her as well as his own life. I wondered how it would feel to have someone feel that way about you. She told me once you could make any man love you if you first found out what would make him hate you.
An Entirely Respectable Arrangement
(New York Times)
Mr. Spies testified that he knew nothing of the character of the woman, supposing naturally enough from Mr. Halsted’s representations that she was entirely respectable; and indeed he had no positive evidence for believing her otherwise. She came and went, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of others, and received not a few callers. Mr. Halsted was there frequently for the purposes of legal consultation it was believed.
Around the Horn
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
In 1849, Halsted went to California aboard the barque Griffin, where on her arrival at San Francisco, the crew all deserted her in favor of searching for gold, and she was sold for port dues; “Pet” buying her for a small sum, and then “running her along the coast.”
(Letter from Arthur Halsted to his granddaughter, Marilyn, March 21, 1957)
Two of my father’s uncles went to California during the gold rush. One took the land route across Panama; the other chartered the barque Griffin and sailed around the horn. They came back with bags full of gold and for a while all the Halsted women wore gold nuggets made into breast pins.
Simple Justice
(Early Editors of California, O’Mears)
At the first election under the California Constitution, November 13th, 1849, Mr. Gilbert was elected Representative in Congress. His opponent was “Pet” Halsted, son of Chancellor Halsted of New Jersey. The price of a printed book of election tickets was five ounces of gold ($80). The Alta, of which Mr. Gilbert was owner and Editor-in-Chief, had the only printing office in California. The opportunity of unlimited printed tickets was not neglected by Mr. Gilbert, yet it is but simple justice to remark that his election over his more popular opponent was vindicated by his years of dedicated service. . . .
(David Swain’s testimony)
“His vagaries were quite beyond the comprehension of ordinary men.”
Mr. Halsted Goes to Washington
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
His introduction to Mr. Lincoln came through his brother-in-law, John Chadwick, proprietor of the Willard Hotel in Washington and the son of a prominent Long Island family.
(The New York Tribune)
Mr. Halsted’s career in Washington during the Great Rebellion was probably the most eventful, as well as the most brilliant, of his checkered life. Gifted with matchless assurance, he succeeded in making himself such a familiar in the counsels of men of note that he won for himself the title of “Pet” by which he was most generally known. He was equally at home in law, diplomacy, finance, and military affairs. His financial genius led him to the bold flight of lobbying and his exploits in this fertile field were numerous and brilliant. Conspicuous among these was his engineering of the great wrought iron gun contract for the Ames Brothers. It is impossible to know how much authority he had in the premises, but it is certain he for a time appeared to have exclusive charge of the project, the plans, drawings, estimates, and all the machinery for getting a bill through Congress. His lectures on the proposed plan for the revolution of the practice of gunnery were plausible and entertaining. His schemes and specifications for setting whole cities ablaze under a rain of incendiary shells fired by mammoth guns, and for guns that breathed bellows of fire, and for ships that sailed beneath the waves and destroyed unsuspecting enemy vessels from below, commanded serious attention during that time in which all the inventive talent of the nation was enlisted in the work of bringing out new instruments and engines of destruction.
(Letter from Mary Todd Lincoln to “Pet” Halsted, Sep. 9, 1861)
I fancy the “blue room” will look dreary this evening, so if you and the Gov are disengaged, wander up to see us—I want to become accustomed to vast solitude by degrees.
(New York Times)
With Mr. Lincoln he was on very friendly terms, and at all times was well received in his family circle.
A Letter to Lincoln
((O.S. “Pet” Halsted, Jr. to Abraham Lincoln, Aug. 27, 1861)
I have marked this as private in order to avoid exciting suspicion. . . . Mrs. Lincoln and children are well & leave this afternoon. Tad has entirely recovered and is as bright as a lark.
The Intelligent Whale
(New York Tribune)
He was enthusiastic in his belief that a new weapon could be devised which would end war.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Halsted’s Battery was a submarine ship calculated for use in naval battles, which was invented by him and widely talked of. To build it he obtained assistance from many of the leading men in the country. . . .
(Letter from Arthur Halsted to his granddaughter, Marilyn, March 21, 1957)
My grandfather was named Oliver but was called Pet all of his life. He invented and built the first submarine. It was being tested at the Brooklyn Naval Yard and the bankers in New York tried to hold it for debt, but he and his brothers came one night and stole it and took it back to New Jersey where their father was Chancellor of the Courts. Sometime afterwards he fell from a horse and died. I don’t know anything else about him.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
He successfully defended himself on a charge of grand larceny in the Newark Police Court brought by Mr. Tyng of New York, for the ownership of a submarine battery.
(Henrietta Spies’ Diary)
He said he had built a ship that sailed under the sea. I told him that was impossible. And he said: “Nothing is impossible.”
And the Way He Walked
(Henrietta Spies’ Diary)
There are lots of Halsteds; but he was the one everybody knew, not just in Newark, but everywhere. They say he was once a pirate. And the way he walked down the street—if you ever saw him, you would remember for the rest of your life.
(New York Tribune)
His was a swagger which was more than magnificent.
The Peaceful Sabbath
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Not since the day when Margaret Garrity stabbed her seducer in the street has Newark experienced a wilder excitement than during the peaceful Sabbath hours of yesterday.
(New York Times)
The day was yet young, it was somewhere between seven and eight o’clock in the morning when the residents of South Street, near Railroad Avenue, were startled by the sound of pistol shots and the screams of a woman, frantic with terror.
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“I had a feeling he would come back, and I wish now I had locked the door, but I knew Mr. Halsted was with her and that he would protect her.”
The Star Witness
(New York Tribune)
Mrs. Wilson appeared before them. She was dressed in a drab organdie, trimmed in black lace, cut décolleté, and with points in front. She wore a black turban, trimmed in black velvet, and a white Valencleanes collar.
(Mrs. Mary Wilson’s testimony)
“My name is Mrs. Mary E. Wilson; I live at 95 South Street; I have lived there since the first of May; I occupy the back room and hall bedroom of the third floor; one other family lives there—the landlord, his daughter, and two young sons; I live alone; I know Oliver S. Halsted, Jr.; have known him for three and a half years. Yes, I was present at a difficulty which occurred between him and George Botts this morning. Botts is no relation of mine; he has no rights in my house. Mr. Halsted is my lawyer, and friend. At about two o’clock this morning I learned Botts was about my place; the girl downstairs told me a man wanted to see me; I heard and knew his voice; he was pleading to come in and see me; I told the girl to tell him I was not home; I did not see him again until this morning; he came and knocked about seven o’clock but went away; an hour afterward he returned and burst the door in; Mr. Halsted knew Botts by sight; they had never met at my house before; Mr. Halsted at the time of the difficulty had been at my house since noon yesterday.”
The Sins of Love
(Henrietta Spies’ diary)
She told me she had tried to be a good person, that her only sins were the sins of love.
The Villain, Fortified, Returns
(John Spies’ testimony)
“George Botts entered my saloon again; he looked tired but he was not drunk. I was unaware that he had been in my house during his absence. Yes, he asked for a glass of brandy and I gave him one. I believe it was one glass, certainly no more than two. He did not mention Halsted.”
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“I was cleaning the kitchen when I heard the door open. It was the same man as before; he went straight up the steps to the third floor.”
(New York Times)
The Spies’ girl stated that upon his return Botts pounded on the door, and his demands to be let in were more urgent and angry, leading her to conclude that he had fortified himself with liquor during his absence.
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“I heard the door being broken open, and I ran to the foot of the stairs; he was already in the front room; I could not see him; he was demanding that she open the other door. I knew the door had no lock, and for the first time I was afraid.”
A Pretty Bad Affair
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“I heard Mrs. Wilson scream; then I heard a scuffle and Mrs. Wilson came running down the stairs, and said: ‘Oh my, he’s shot!’ She looked as though she would faint. I was not sure whom she meant had been shot; but in a moment the man came down the stairs; he hurried out the door and did not look at us; his shirt was red with blood. Mrs. Wilson was in her nightclothes and I took her to a chair and she sat down. I then went up to her room and saw Mr. Halsted sitting on the lounge; he was shot in the breast and was bleeding very badly; his nose was bleeding too; he said nothing; he breathed heavily and did not seem to be aware of anything. I met Mrs. Wilson on the stairs as I was going down to summon my father; she was like a person sleepwalking.”
(John Spies’ testimony)
“After I heard the shot, I unlocked the hall door and started up the stairs; I saw George Botts leaving by the back door; I shouted to him, but knowing he had the pistol, I did not pursue him; I sent for Officer Callen who lives nearby.”
(Officer Callen’s Testimony)
“I was called out of bed at about half past seven by Mr. Spies’ lad; I reached the house five minutes after the shot was fired; on being informed that Botts went down South Street to Hermon, I followed him along to Thomas Street; then he headed toward Mulberry Street; I finally captured him on South Street on the west side of Railroad Avenue. Botts was then walking quite rapidly and he heard my footsteps and turned around; I have known him for sixteen or eighteen years; I said, ‘Botts, what have you been doing this morning?’ and he answered ‘been having a little shooting match.’ I said, ‘It’s a pretty bad affair,’ and he replied, ‘I’m satisfied; Halsted fired the first shot; he wasn’t as good a mark as he thought he was;’ he said he expected he would have a pretty poor Fourth of July, but Halsted would have a poorer one. That was just talk. He said he expected to be strung up on the first tree he came to, but he had gotten all the satisfaction he wanted out of the b______. I told him I thought he was foolish to get himself in trouble for a woman of that kind; he said ‘yes, he was a fool to get in trouble for a bloody b______.’ By that time a crowd had gathered and was following us along South Street and he wanted to treat all hands to a drink before he got locked up; he said Halsted wanted to ‘keep the thing all to himself,’ he ‘wouldn’t divide;’ this conversation passed between us as we were walking along to the station house; he was by turns jolly and dejected; he did not know then that Halsted was dead.”
A Reasonable Request
(Mrs. Wilson’s testimony)
“I heard him coming; he asked to come in; I made no answer; Mr. Halsted told me not to open the door; and I did not; we were in the bedroom when the door to the outer room was burst open; the door to the bedroom has no lock; Mr. Halsted was holding the door, trying to keep it shut. The door opened a little as Botts pushed against it; I saw Botts; he had a revolver in his hand. I said, ‘Don’t shoot.’ He said ‘You b______, I’ll shoot you.’ Mr. Halsted was leaning against the door with great energy but his stocking foot slipped and Botts burst into the room. They clutched and Mr. Halsted quickly put a hold on him from behind and seemed to have the advantage when Botts put the pistol over his shoulder and fired. Mr. Halsted staggered back and said: ‘I’m shot.’ Then addressing Botts, he said: ‘Please don’t shoot me again.’”
A Brief Melodrama
(New York Times)
At this point Mr. Spies rushed into the room and found Halsted lying on a lounge with a pistol wound to his breast and Mrs. Wilson hanging over him crying: “What a wicked woman, what a wicked woman I am.” He was removed to the sitting room and laid upon the floor. Medical attention was immediately summoned but the fatal bullet had done its intended work. He breathed for about twenty or thirty minutes after the shot was fired, but never spoke.
Who Calls?
(David Swain’s testimony)
“I happened to be in John Spies’ saloon on business when the fatal shot was fired; I visited the premises on the third floor and found Pet Halsted on the lounge, dying; I helped remove him to the floor in the front room; called him twice: ‘Pet! Pet!’ He appeared to recognize my voice, but did not answer.”
As I Lay Dying
(Henrietta Spies’ testimony)
“When I came back upstairs, Mr. Halsted was on the lounge, and Mrs. Wilson was bending over him, talking and weeping; his eyes were open and his lips moved but I did not hear him say anything. His tongue was very red with blood. Mrs. Wilson said she wanted to dress him. ‘He would want to be dressed,’ she said, ‘at a time like this.’ My father said he would help her; but then Mr. Swain appeared. She then asked if we would help her move him into the sitting room; which we did with no great effort; he was as light as a feather.”
(Police Sergeant Elijah Smith’s written statement)
Reached the house of Mrs. Mary Wilson prior to the death of Halsted; victim was on his back on the floor, a very nice velvet pillow under his head. He did not seem to be aware of anything as I stood over him; was bleeding very little, if any; was dressed in drawers, underwear, a white muslin shirt, and one stocking; one of the legs of the drawers was untied at the ankle; the shirt was bloody. Detective Fischer came into the room and said that Botts said Halsted fired at him first; I then searched the room for a pistol but found none; found Mr. Halsted’s clothes in the woman’s bedroom; searched the pockets; found $8, a small pearl-handle pocket knife, and a letter from his son marked Princeton,—February 7.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Officer James Deegan testified that this morning about half past seven he saw a man, answering the description of Botts, as he was going along Railroad Avenue. The man was coming along Vesey Street. “He spoke to me, saying ‘Good morning, young man, how are you this morning?’ His manner was not of a man who had left his victim dying only a few blocks away.”
(Police Sergeant Elijah Smith’s written statement)
He no longer was breathing so I removed the pillow from beneath his head; his head fell back rather hard on the floor and a trickle of blood came from his nose. Dr. Dodd had not yet arrived to begin the autopsy. It was nearly nine o’clock.
How Are the Mighty Fallen
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
When Sen. Sprague of Rhode Island entered upon his famous “Labor and Capital” stumping tour, Mr. Halsted was one of his chief supporters, giving the senator a grand reception at his mansion on Broad Street.
(New York Tribune)
No public character was so well-known. He went everywhere, knew everybody, and cut a large figure in social as well as political life. There was nothing he did not know—nothing he could not do. There were no bounds to his ambition and no limit to his glowing imagination. The tragic end of his long and eventful career will once more revive memories of thousands of people who were in Washington during the war and many amusing reminiscences of one who was the best known man of that time.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
On Decoration Day last, after the Parade, a small company sat down together at the Maison Grise. Three of the six guests were “Pet” Halsted, Charles Compton, and Coroner Chase. Yesterday, Halsted was murdered, Coroner Chase held the inquest, and Mr. Compton, the undertaker, took charge of the remains.
(New York Times)
Major George Blight Halsted, brother of the victim, sat on the stairs, apparently much overcome. As young men, the brothers succumbed to the gold fever that swept the country in ’49.
Wretchedly Desolate: A Note From Mrs. Lincoln
(Letter from Mary Todd Lincoln to “Pet” Halsted, May 29, 1865)
Tremont House
Chicago
May 29, 1865
My Dear Sir,
We arrived here some days since & I quite regretted that I did not see you again, before leaving W(ashington) as I had a good deal to say to you. I trust you will accept a slight memento, I am sure any little relic of my Beloved Husband, will be of value to you—Life and the future looked to me, wretchedly desolate when we left W(ashington) realizing as I now do, that I am alone, my all, my husband gone from me, the agony is insupportable.
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Mr. Halsted was the father of six children including two grown sons. The family was away visiting relations in Greenport, Long Island. A telegram was sent immediately, summoning them home.
The Chosen Few
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Great crowds assembled around the house all day from curiosity, but it was strictly guarded; only the coroner’s jury, the doctors and reporters being admitted.
Justifiable Homicide?
(New York Times)
At eight o’clock this evening the prisoner was brought in heavily manacled. Mr. John Dunham, the foreman of the grand jury, returned the following verdict: “We find that one George Botts, late of said city of Newark, on the 2nd day of July, 1871 in the said city of Newark, in said county of Essex, did willfully and feloniously kill and murder the said Oliver S. Halsted, Jr., by shooting him in the left breast with a pistol loaded with gun powder and a leaden bullet.” When asked the usual question as to whether he had anything to say in his defense the prisoner replied: “He had me by the scrotum, your honor.” He seemed thoroughly indifferent to the enormity of his crime.
Crimes Compared
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
The murder was the first one in Newark in nearly four years, and it created a greater sensation throughout the city than that of Margaret Garrity, sixteen years ago, or of John McKenney, more recently, in which latter case, Mr. Halsted successfully defended the prisoner.
July 3, 1871
A Morbid Curiosity
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
At an early hour this morning numbers of people gathered upon the sidewalks in the immediate vicinity of the station house, apparently anxious to catch a glimpse of the murderer when he should be transported to the county jail, and while there assembled, patiently awaiting to gratify a morbid curiosity, the tragic event was generally discussed by the crowd and every newly communicated fact eagerly listened to and repeated. By nine o’clock the crowd had greatly increased; the street was blocked by people, the more curious climbed up the high iron gates to gain a better view.
A More Sober Assessment of Love
( New York Times)
In the meanwhile the stalwart prisoner sat in his cell, looking subdued and anxious, and watching eagerly each person who was permitted to come to his cell, as if expecting the visit of some dear friend. About nine o’clock, at his urgent solicitation, a glass of brandy was procured for him from a neighboring saloon; after swallowing it almost in a single gulp he returned the tumbler to the officer who handed it to him with the remark: “That and bad women have cost me everything.”
Watering the Rose
(Henrietta Spies ’ diary)
She is in jail, being held as a witness until the trial. My father packed her belongings in her trunks and had some men move them downstairs this morning. He would not let me help, but when he was done he told me to clean her rooms. They seemed very small and empty without her; and so silent with no one there. No laughing. No talking. Just bare walls and the blood on the floor. I got down on my hands and knees with a bucket of water and a brush. I wet the brush and scrubbed and red bubbles spread across the floor, but by the time I finished the water was a mess of muddy brown in my bucket. Still, it didn’t seem proper to throw it out in the alley like common dishwater. I took it outside to the garden and poured it under the rosebush.
The Evening Post Takes the High Road
( New York Evening Post)
“The way of the transgressor is hard”—and it is made needlessly painful to his family, in such a case as that of the unfortunate man who was killed in Newark on Sunday morning, by the prominence given to the disgusting details of his later life and death, by the newspapers. The details of Mr. Halsted’s life and death could hardly interest any but a morbid and prurient curiosity. Nor did the public welfare require that these long stories be given. In truth there is no story to be found in all the sad and sordid events which meets the standards of proper newspaper reportage.
December 13, 1871
Holiday Hanging Postponed
(New York Times)
Gov. Randolph yesterday reprieved George Botts, sentenced to be hanged on the twenty-second for the murder of Oliver S. Halsted, Jr. in July last, until Friday, the 26 of January, the time allowed for the preparation for death being deemed too short. The Governor wishes it to be understood that this reprieve does not look to a pardon. . . . The execution will probably take place on the day fixed by the Governor. Halsted’s murder is surely one of the most shocking stories in Newark’s history and the hanging of the murderer, George Botts, is certain to attract large numbers wishing to witness the event.
Is It a True Story?
(Henrietta Spies’ diary)
They want to know what really happened, so my father tells his story again and again—remembering things he forgot when he was testifying; remembering things that didn’t seem important at the time; remembering things that never happened. No matter what he tells them, they are not satisfied. They stand at the bar and drink and laugh and talk. Some swear Botts is not the murderer—the woman pulled the trigger they say, and he is protecting her. Others say Halsted is not dead at all but living in California. “But somebody’s got to hang—it wouldn’t look good otherwise.”
(Bruce C. Halsted, great-grandson of “Pet” Halsted & author of The Lincolns & Pet Halsted, in conversation June 29, 1999)
“It was not until 1997 that I learned the truth about my great-grandfather. Before that, I believed—we all believed—he had been killed when he fell from a horse.”
(Lawrence Reynolds, in conversation September 2, 1998)
“Before that (1957), there is no mention of Halsted in the history books. The scandal of his death completely blotted out any mention of him. Twentieth century historians, finding references to Mr. Halsted in papers and documents from that time, assumed, incorrectly, that the Halsted referred to was Murat Halstead, a well-known writer and journalist of the time.”
(Pop Cyrus, storyteller, par excellence, in conversation June 4, 1959)
“It’s true enough if you believe it.”
January 27, 1872
To Sleep, Perchance . . .
(New York Times)
Restlessly he paced his small cell. About midnight he requested permission to view the gallows. Permission being granted, he surveyed the dark instrument of death briefly, then turned away, and returned to his cell, where he laid down without undressing. Though his eyes were closed from that moment until just before five o’clock, it is doubtful his mind ever found peace in sleep.
Men
Henrietta Spies)
One was old and bragged that he had seen seventeen hangings in ten states.
Another was young and wanted to have something to tell his grandchildren when he was old.
All agreed the murder would be remembered forever.
One said you had to have the right kind of rope to hang a man, otherwise you would just choke him to death.
Dead is dead, said another.
One asked me if I was Mrs. Wilson’s daughter.
Another said: There’s only one way to find out! Take her upstairs.
All of them laughed. They were drunk and just killing time until the hanging.
When All That is Earthly is Swept Away
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Chaplain Weed held his trembling hand, whispering assurances of divine mercy to the wretched man, and supporting him at this trying moment with those spiritual consolations that we must all turn to when all that is earthly has been swept from under us.
(New York Times)
The preparations being complete, the arms tied at the elbows, the noose loosely tied and the black cap placed on the head, the procession prepared to start on its fatal passage.
(New York Times)
Botts’ face was that of one who sees nothing around him; it was the look of one whose gaze is fixed on futurity, and yet hesitates to make the dreadful leap. The halter hung around his neck, seemingly a small cord to kill so large a man, and as he took his place under the gallows, the sheriff, pale and nervous almost as the condemned man, slipped the end of it into the hook.
The Spring of Death
(The New York Times)
Then came the most terrible moment of the entire scene. It took but an instant for the sheriff to step behind the black screen where the fatal spring was to be touched, but it was an instant that seemed an age. Many who had waited the cold night through now turned away from that which they had come to see; others closed their eyes.
Trifling Ease
(Newark Daily Advertiser)
Another instant and the spring was pressed; the enormous weight from below was pushed from its balance and the body of George Botts was flung with trifling ease into the air. The crowd, silent until that moment, let out a groan which was in harmony with the horror of the sight.
Wash My Sins Away
(Henrietta Spies)
Father left for the hanging before dawn. I cleaned up the mess from last night—took about three hours and not a soul did I see. It was near noon, I stepped outside to mop the steps. The sun was warm and I stood for a moment looking up and down South Street. There wasn’t a soul as far as the eye could see. But there was a sound that filled the air like bees swarming. It was a sound you could feel. It trembled in the air—it hardly sounded human but I knew it was the sound of the multitudes gathered around the gallows. I put down my mop and listened. Then suddenly it ceased and in its place I heard footsteps coming along South Street on the run. I turned and looked. A boy was running along the muddy stones as fast as his legs would carry him. He kept looking back over his shoulder as if someone might be after him.
After the boy disappeared from my sight there was an awful silence. I tried not to think about what was happening. I tried to move the mop back and forth but my arms had no strength. I leaned against the mop handle and stared down at the steps. This was the very spot Mr. Botts had been standing when I looked down from my window and saw him. I could still see his shoulders heaving as he sobbed and swore he loved her better than his own life. And I heard myself telling him: “If you don’t leave I’ll baptize you with this.” I held the chamber pot out so he could see what I was holding, but he was looking down at the steps, just as I was looking down at them now. I could only see the shape of him in the darkness below me. I held the pot until my arms ached. Finally he looked up and I tilted the pot as if I was about to pour it on him. I was sure that would put a fright in him. For a moment neither of us moved; then he stretched his arms wide and threw back his big head and waited.
I’ll Fly Away
(Henrietta Spies)
I could feel it under my feet—a groaning sound that rumbled across the town like thunder . . . or an earthquake. And immediately following, there arose a riot of voices, shrilling the air as if the gates of hell had opened and all the souls of eternity were vying to tell their awful tales. For a moment I thought the end of the world was at hand. But it was only blackbirds . . . hundreds of blackbirds—screeching over the rooftops and swooping into the alleys, their shadows rippling across South Street all the way down to Railroad Avenue and beyond. 