[

[J. H. Cradlebaugh, When Kerr Dropped Out, Sunset, February 1906]

When Kerr Dropped Out

            KERR was a man whose name fitted him like a glove. I do not remember his christian name, if indeed, he had such a thing, but he didn't need any—just Kerr was enough. Still this man had the distinguished honor of being the first to be hanged by due process of law in western Utah, and if Justice had slipped her blind and gone to work with her eyes open, the procession following  him would have been a long one, and some, whose names have since been written more or less high on Nevada's scroll of time, would not have been around when the offices got ripe. This, however, is a digression and merely an expression of individual opinion.

            "Lucky Bill," William Thorington, had been tried by an informal court of his peers, found guilty of cattle-stealing and accessory in a murder, and was duly hanged on Clear Creek, four miles south of Carson City. Kerr was tried in the territorial court of Utah and hanged by the United States Marshal, John D. Blackburn.

            He was a Missourian, lanky of build, and about six feet four inches in length, or possibly six foot six when the kinks were out of him. His crime was the murder of two young fellows who had just crossed the plains, coming, I believe, from Michigan.

Kerr imagined he was a "bad" man; instead he was simply a cowardly, despicable assassin. He ran across the young fellows, and, pretending to own a ranch up King's cañon, back of Carson, hired one of them. Taking him up the road in the evening, Kerr shot him to death, rifled his pockets, getting forty cents. With this he purchased more liquid courage, and, hunting up the other young immigrant, told him he could give him a job along with his partner. He did, killing him at the same spot, and dumping both bodies into the creek.

            This murder proved more profitable, netting almost a dollar. Kerr, drunk, boasted of the killing, thinking it would make him a reputation as a gun man. He was arrested, tried before Judge Cradlebaugh, and, hoping to save his neck, confessed. He was sentenced to be hanged, the judge expressing regret that he didn't have as many lives as a cat so that he could be hanged several times. There had been several escapes owing to inadequate jail facilities, and to prevent any accident of this kind, the execution was fixed at a date just remote enough to permit the marshal to prepare for it.

            The execution took place at the scene of the murder, and was a great social success. The whole town turned out to do honor to the occasion, and I, being small, was permitted to crowd through to the front row. The gallows consisted of two posts set in the ground, with a platform supported by shorter posts. Kerr mounted the platform and made a rambling speech, confessing his crime, and generously forgiving everybody, including the marshal in charge of the ceremonies.

            It was a new business to the marshal, and owing to the fact that the rope had not been stretched and that sufficient allowance had not been made for the slack in his couplings,

390      SUNSET MAGAZINE

when he shot through the trap and the wrinkles came out, his feet struck the ground. The rope was short enough, however, to stretch him out full length, and he swung round and round on his toes, unable to maintain his balance, literally going out quietly on his tiptoes. His eyes had been covered with a strip of black cloth tied around his head, and in the drop this was pulled up, exposing his left eye. Every time he swung round he reproachfully gazed at Blackburn, and, while he couldn't give voice to his thoughts, his expression indicated that the suspense was killing him.

            Blackburn was tender hearted and easily moved to sympathy. He walked around the scaffold to where a shovel, used in setting the posts, leaned against it, and with this he gently scooped the sand from under Kerr's feet, smoothing his dying pathway with a shovel and giving a happy termination to what promised for a while to be a hiatus. His presence of mind and prompt action were highly commended, and that night Carson City celebrated the consummation of her first and greatest social function. As for myself, I got more of the proceedings than I bargained for, for that staring eye and dangling form visited me many a night afterward.

J. H. CRADLEBAUGH.

When Kerr Dropped Out

            KERR was a man whose name fitted him like a glove. I do not remember his christian name, if indeed, he had such a thing, but he didn't need any—just Kerr was enough. Still this man had the distinguished honor of being the first to be hanged by due process of law in western Utah, and if Justice had slipped her blind and gone to work with her eyes open, the procession following  him would have been a long one, and some, whose names have since been written more or less high on Nevada's scroll of time, would not have been around when the offices got ripe. This, however, is a digression and merely an expression of individual opinion.

            "Lucky Bill," William Thorington, had been tried by an informal court of his peers, found guilty of cattle-stealing and accessory in a murder, and was duly hanged on Clear Creek, four miles south of Carson City. Kerr was tried in the territorial court of Utah and hanged by the United States Marshal, John D. Blackburn.

            He was a Missourian, lanky of build, and about six feet four inches in length, or possibly six foot six when the kinks were out of him. His crime was the murder of two young fellows who had just crossed the plains, coming, I believe, from Michigan. Kerr imagined he was a "bad" man; instead he was simply a cowardly, despicable assassin. He ran across the young fellows, and, pretending to own a ranch up King's cañon, back of Carson, hired one of them. Taking him up the road in the evening, Kerr shot him to death, rifled his pockets, getting forty cents. With this he purchased more liquid courage, and, hunting up the other young immigrant, told him he could give him a job along with his partner. He did, killing him at the same spot, and dumping both bodies into the creek.

            This murder proved more profitable, netting almost a dollar. Kerr, drunk, boasted of the killing, thinking it would make him a reputation as a gun man. He was arrested, tried before Judge Cradlebaugh, and, hoping to save his neck, confessed. He was sentenced to be hanged, the judge expressing regret that he didn't have as many lives as a cat so that he could be hanged several times. There had been several escapes owing to inadequate jail facilities, and to prevent any accident of this kind, the execution was fixed at a date just remote enough to permit the marshal to prepare for it.

            The execution took place at the scene of the murder, and was a great social success. The whole town turned out to do honor to the occasion, and I, being small, was permitted to crowd through to the front row. The gallows consisted of two posts set in the ground, with a platform supported by shorter posts. Kerr mounted the platform and made a rambling speech, confessing his crime, and generously forgiving everybody, including the marshal in charge of the ceremonies.

            It was a new business to the marshal, and owing to the fact that the rope had not been stretched and that sufficient allowance had not been made for the slack in his couplings,

390      SUNSET MAGAZINE

when he shot through the trap and the wrinkles came out, his feet struck the ground. The rope was short enough, however, to stretch him out full length, and he swung round and round on his toes, unable to maintain his balance, literally going out quietly on his tiptoes. His eyes had been covered with a strip of black cloth tied around his head, and in the drop this was pulled up, exposing his left eye. Every time he swung round he reproachfully gazed at Blackburn, and, while he couldn't give voice to his thoughts, his expression indicated that the suspense was killing him.

            Blackburn was tender hearted and easily moved to sympathy. He walked around the scaffold to where a shovel, used in setting the posts, leaned against it, and with this he gently scooped the sand from under Kerr's feet, smoothing his dying pathway with a shovel and giving a happy termination to what promised for a while to be a hiatus. His presence of mind and prompt action were highly commended, and that night Carson City celebrated the consummation of her first and greatest social function. As for myself, I got more of the proceedings than I bargained for, for that staring eye and dangling form visited me many a night afterward.

J. H. CRADLEBAUGH.