Jim Potter's Blog, page 17

Sheriffs of Reno County: Henry Hartford

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· Henry Hartford (1837-1919)
Sheriff 1874-1876
Photograph from History of Reno County, Kansas: Its People, Industries and Institutions, Vol. 2, by Sheridan Ploughe (B. F. Bowen & Co., 1917)
·

Houston Whiteside, 82, sips his coffee and looks out the front window of the mayor’s Oxford Café, Hutchinson, Kansas. His wife, Julia Clementine Latimer, 59, is talking about being a judge for an upcoming radio contest. It’s Saturday, October 8, 1927.

*

Houston Whiteside watched as a police officer hung a green ticket on an automobile parked too long on Main Street. In his head, the retired attorney-at-law, and former Reno County Attorney, contrasted the early days of Hutchinson to the present. What a difference a half-century could make!

In the earliest of days, the founder of Hutchinson, C. C. Hutchinson, had given away lots to encourage the growth of the town. Now, Police Chief George Duckworth—a former Reno County Sheriff—at the direction of the city council, especially the mayor, said the two-hour parking tickets were necessary to discourage local citizens from parking in front of local businesses all day. The establishments wanted to cater to their out-of-town customers and make it easy for them to load their cars with merchandise.

Whiteside, who had his 82nd birthday a day earlier, had recently been thinking about Henry Harford who died at the same age in 1919. In the early years of Reno County, Hartford, who lived in Medora Township—and was the county’s second sheriff—had appreciated the businesses that offered enough hitching rails for their customers.

Photograph of Henry Hartford from the Lynne Hartford Collection

Hartford was a leader of men, and had risen from private to colonel during the Civil War. He first enlisted for 90-days, but after three months—and the war not over yet—mustered into the Eighth New Jersey Volunteers, Union Army, until the war ended. Eventually, he led the regiment, and commanded a brigade, in some of the hardest fighting in the Richmond Campaign. During numerous, fierce, military engagements, he showed his gallantry and was highly decorated. He was seriously wounded five times.

In his early teens, Whiteside was severely injured as a member of a patrol guard in his home country, Bedford County, Tennessee.

After a few years of school teaching and learning law, Whiteside migrated from Tennessee to Kansas, with plans to put his attorney-at-law degree to good use.

Hartford, a native of Londonderry County, Ireland, born February 8, 1837, crossed the Atlantic Ocean at age 18 in 1855, on one of the first steamships to make the journey. He settled in New York City with the help of his brother, William, who had arrived before him. Their widowed mother and sisters joined them later.

In 1867, the Hartford family located to Leavenworth, Kansas, where Henry and his brother worked in the commission business. The Hartford’s moved to Reno County in 1872, filing a homestead claim in the Medora area that became a 1,000 acre ranch engaged in farming and stock raising, known as the Hillsview Stock Farm.

Colonel Hartford, a Republican, was elected to the position of Reno County sheriff on November 3, 1873, and served one, two-year term. In the 1875 election for sheriff, he was defeated by John M. Hedrick, another Union veteran.

“What are you daydreaming about?” asked Julia of her husband.

“Oh, I was thinking about Henry Hartford,” answered Houston.

“He was a good citizen. He took an active part in the community. He had a great interest in developing the farming and stock interests in the county, and was a promoter of the fair association here, and one of the officials of the fair for a long time.”

Soldiers’ & Sailors’ Monument

“The last time I remember seeing Alice and Henry together,” said Julia, “was at the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ monument dedication. Both of them were active with the G.A.R. (Grand Army of the Republic). Alice, bless her heart, is still involved with the Women’s Relief Club to support the veterans and their widows.”

“It was Flag Day,” said Houston.

“What?” asked Julia.

“The dedication of the monument at First Avenue and Walnut was on Flag Day in 1919. Henry died the same year . . . in the Fall,” said Houston.

“He was born in Ireland, survived the Civil War, and served a term as sheriff during dark economic times, a drought, and a devastating grasshopper invasion; yet, his life was just getting started. Within a couple of years of serving as sheriff, he became a naturalized citizen, with all its rights and privileges, and then he married his neighbor, Alice Elizabeth Thomas. She came to Little River Township from Indiana with her parents about the time the Hartford’s arrived. Her family, going back a couple of generations, were from Ireland.”

“I remember Alice telling me that she was a school teacher before she married,” said Julia. “I know she taught at Obee School.”

“Two of her children have taken after her, that’s for sure,” said Houston.

“Yes, I believe Etta and May are still teaching in the Hutchinson schools,” said Julia.

“I haven’t seen Alice for a long time,” said Houston, “but she’s always had a great deal of character and clarity in her vision. As a pioneer woman, she understood about hard living in a new country. During the grasshopper invasion in 1874, after they ravaged the fields and trees, the creatures even ate the laundry off clotheslines and food from inside our homes. And while the chickens ate the hungry pests, this caused the chickens to taste so bad, people wouldn’t eat the chickens!

Eastside             Cemetery Hutchinson, Kansas

“A lot of the settlers gave up and returned east,” continued Houston, “but not the Hartfords. It rained on March 14 and never rained again until August 1. The wind blew every day and it was often a hot wind. There were no crops, the grasshopper raid in July had destroyed and eaten up everything that grew.”

“Enough people had faith in the future to stay,” said Julia, “but I’m glad I missed those hardships.”

“Henry used to say, ‘the locusts ate everything but the mortgage,’” commented Houston.

“That reminds me,” said Julia, “I need to get in touch with Alice. She invited me to be her guest at the next Women’s Relief Club meeting.”

“Even at her age,” said Houston, “she’s still involved with the First Christian Church and raising funds for the care of Civil War veterans and their widows.”

“Alice has a big heart,” said Julia. “Henry also cared deeply for others, and he had a contagious sense of humor.”

“He was always telling jokes,” agreed Houston. “Do you remember this one? ‘Why did the Irishman wear red suspenders?’”

Julia smiled and nodded, then quickly replied, “To keep his pants up.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriffs of Reno County: Henry Hartford appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriffs of Reno County: Charles Collins

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· Charles Collins (1845-1906)
Sheriff 1872-1874·

It’s Friday, October 7, 1927. Houston Whiteside, retired attorney-at-law, resident of Hutchinson, Kansas, since May 1872, is celebrating his 81st birthday at the Masonic Hall. Judge Whiteside has been encouraged to recall the good ‘ole days.

*

Reno County Sheriff Fay Brown, 36, the newest member of the Masons, has known Houston Whiteside for over a decade, mostly through fellowship in the Knights of Pythias. Since Whiteside retired in 1909, before Brown joined the Hutchinson Police force, the lawman never observed the well-known and well-respected attorney practice law in the courtroom.

“What do you recall about the first sheriff of the county,” asked Fay.

“We were friends. Charles Collins died too young,” began Whiteside. “He was only two years older than me, but he passed on at age 61 in 1906. He was never the same after his wife, Loretta McMillan, was killed in Los Angeles in a street car accident a year before his death. He brooded over her loss, and failed in his own health.

“In his youth, Collins was a tall man with eyes as black as his wavy, long hair, and with a commanding manner,” recalled Whiteside.

“I beat the first train to Hutchinson, but the first sheriff beat me here,” said Whiteside. “Charles Collins was appointed by the Governor as sheriff in the unorganized county and then was elected to the office at Reno County’s first election on March 12, 1872. Like all the other county candidates on the ballot that day, he faced no opposition. He was just 27 years old. But in 1871, Collins, who was one of the first settlers here—he took up a claim in the sand hills—helped Clinton Carter Hutchinson locate and stake out the town that would bear Hutchinson’s name.

“Collins was the first lawman to settle in the unorganized county. He carried a Deputy U. S. Marshal’s commission upon his arrival here, having become a U.S. Marshal while working as the first city marshal of Topeka. He not only knew William F. Cody, or ‘Buffalo Bill’, but he arrested him on several occasions when Cody and his men were having a good time. They became friends.

“C. C. Hutchinson didn’t want his town to become a lawless cow town of the wild west. Instead, he promoted it as ‘the banner temperance town’ of Kansas. When a fellow from Newton with two barrels of whiskey, two frowsy-headed women, a tent, and a wagon, set up his operation without consent on the banks of Cow Creek, C. C. Hutchinson sought the help of Deputy U.S. Marshal Collins. The marshal visited the Cow Creek den of sin, told them they were all under arrest for selling whiskey in an unorganized county, then escorted them to jail in Newton.”

Whiteside started laughing, just thinking about the story he was going to tell. “I used to give my friend a hard time about being a crook, prior to becoming a lawman. Even though Charles was born in Montgomery, Alabama, he fought for the Union. At the age of 12 he and his family moved to Leavenworth, Kansas. Four years later, at the outset of the war, the 16 year-old enlisted twice without his parents’ consent. Each time his father tracked him down and brought him home. Finally, on his third enlistment, still patriotic and anxious to serve his country, he traveled with young friends to St. Louis, and enlisted under the fictitious name of Michael Crook and claimed to be of foreign birth. He served in the Fifth United States Artillery for nearly three years under the name of Crook. That’s why I always told Collins that before he was sheriff, he was a crook.”

“Judge, did enlisting under a fictitious name, prevent him from collecting a pension?” asked a Mason in the crowd.

“He never filed,” answered Whiteside. “Of course, the pension system evolved. Originally, Union soldiers were required to be disabled as a result of their service. Later, as the veterans aged, they were eligible if they were unable to do manual labor whether they were wounded or not.

“Never was a man more loyal to his friends than Charles Collins,” continued Whiteside. “He was a secretive man until you got to know him. I suppose living in Leavenworth prior to the Civil War may have been a factor. Lawrence was the territorial capital of Kansas abolitionism. While the Kansas territory was home to many from the South, those settling in and around Leavenworth, learned early that a man’s politics, especially in reference to slavery, was potentially life threatening. Pro-slavery vigilance committees terrorized the territory, killing, lynching, tarring-and-feathering.

“Like me, Charles grew up in a family that owned slaves. I was born and bred near Shelbyville, Tennessee, a state with slavery. Our sympathies were divided. We were slave holders, and had no use for abolitionists, and yet we were not secessionists. Tennessee was loyal to the union.”

Houston considered referring to his own war injury, his crippled arm.

Russell, Houston’s father, died in 1854 when Houston was six. His father’s two brothers left home together for the war, one enlisting in the Union Army, and the other in the Confederate forces, and they fought against each other. One was killed at Chickamauga, wearing the blue; the other was badly wounded, as a rebel.

“Tennessee was in the path of the armies,” said Whiteside, “and hardly a week passed throughout the long years of the war but soldiers of either the Union Army or the Confederate passed through Bedford County.

“We were constantly raided by one side or the other seeking food and forage. Part of my work during the war was to hide out with the stock, and try to keep the animals hidden from the soldiers.

“When the war came, I was a youth of 15. Instead of trying to enlist like Collins, I served with other young men of the community in a patrol guard, an armed and mounted force. We sought to preserve the peace against the bandits and marauders.”

It was on patrol that I was severely wounded, Whiteside thought to himself, as he touched his useless arm and remembered the first, sharp pain before passing out.

“I was 15, and now I’m 81,” said Whiteside. “It was a long time ago, but it feels like it was only yesterday.”

Note: There are conflicting records for the birth year of Charles Collins. Some, like his gravestone, use 1844. Others, including his obituary, use 1845.

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriffs of Reno County: Charles Collins appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: The Yankees and The Long Count

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· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
The Yankees and The Long Count·

It’s Saturday, October 1, 1927, in the Stamey Hotel’s coffee shop at 5th and Main, Hutchinson, Kansas, just a half-block east of the temporary courthouse. When you walk in the door, you can smell the aroma of fresh coffee.

*

“Would any of you gentlemen like more coffee?” asked Peggy, the waitress.

“You can top mine off, thanks,” said Fay Brown, 30, Reno County sheriff.

“Babe Ruth has done it again,” said Fay, “another record broken, this time, his own.”

“I don’t know if anyone will ever hit 60 homers again in a season,” said Ewing King, 30, Reno County commissioner. “Babe is one-of-a-kind.”

“The Yankees have been in first place all season long. Now they need to finish the year with a World Series win,” said Fay. “Anything less will be a huge disappointment.”

“They’ll be tough to beat with their powerful hitting and pitching,” said George Gano, 57, grain man.

“Ruth and Gehrig, rightfully so, get a lot of attention,” said Fay, “but let’s not forget Wilcy Moore. With his sidearm pitching, he can sure save a game.”

“Good thing he broke his wrist a couple of years ago,” recalled George. “After his recovery, he was trying to limit the pressure on his pitching arm. That’s when he developed his deadly sinker and a better curve ball.”

“When I watched him pitch for Okmulgee in 1924 in the Western Association, he was good,” said Fay, “but he’s become a real fireman on the mound.”

“That’s why they call him ‘Doc’,” said George. “He brings an ailing ball game back to life with his superb pitching.”

“He sure doesn’t do it with his hitting,” said Ewing, which caused all three men to laugh out loud.

Wilcy Moore had the reputation for being the worst hitter in the major leagues. He was so bad that Babe Ruth made a wager with him. Ruth bet that Moore wouldn’t hit a home run during the entire 1927 season. If Moore did hit a homer, Ruth would pay him $300. If Moore didn’t, Ruth would collect $15. On September 21, at Yankees Stadium, Moore surprised everyone in the ball park, including himself. After he hit one over the right field wall, Ruth nearly had a heart attack, but paid up.

“Wilcy’s from Hollis, Oklahoma, son of a cotton farmer,” said Fay. “I admire the way he fought to make the majors, especially because he’s no spring chicken. He must be 30 years old, but he won’t reveal his age. Old or not, as a rookie he’s on his way to having the best EPA in the majors.”

“Speaking of fighting,” said Ewing, “the Tunney-Dempsey match was worth the trip to Chicago.”

“That it was,” agreed George.

“In the darkness at Soldier Field,” said Ewing, “looking around the arena, one could see nothing but the smoke, and the flickering of the thousands of glowing cigarettes. With the glowing and smoke, it looked like a prairie after a fire has burned over it.”

“It must have been a sight,” said Fay.

“When the crowd cheered, it was like a great bellow or roar,” said Ewing.

“I’ve always been an admirer of Jack Dempsey, but I saw he was up against a better man from the start,” said George. “I knew it was going to be a good fight from the first round.

“There will always be an argument, of course, whether Tunney wasn’t really knocked out in the seventh round,” George continued. “He was down more than the ten seconds, but he was taking the count of nine. It was Dempsey’s own fault that there was any delay in the count. He seemed to be surprised that he had knocked Tunney down. He hesitated, instead of going over to the neutral corner.

“Then the count started. When the count of five came, Tunney started to get up. I had a front seat at the ringside, just feet away. I heard his man Jimmy Bronson tell him, ‘Stay down and take nine.’ And that’s what he did. But he could have got up, I believe at four, five, or six. Of course, there will always be an argument, but there wasn’t any question in the mind of those who saw it as to who was the winner.

“Tunney came right back and from then on was the aggressor and Dempsey had no chance,” said George.

“Tunney knocked Dempsey down in the eighth. It was as pretty a knockdown as you ever saw. Some claimed Dempsey only fell. He was knocked down. I was close up to the ring and saw it. It was a straight right to the jaw that sent him down. He got up but he never was the same after that. It was the first time he had ever been knocked down.

“In the ninth, Tunney took the aggressive and Dempsey was bewildered. If that tenth round had lasted twenty seconds longer, Dempsey would have been knocked down and out. As it was, he didn’t know when the fight was over. He was out on his feet. There wasn’t any question on the part of the 125,000 people who saw that fight as to who won it.”

“More coffee?” asked the waitress.

“No thanks,” the men agreed.

“Sheriff Brown,” said Peggy. “I heard that Charles Everton was arrested and he’s in your jail. Is that right?”

“That’s correct,” answered Sheriff Brown.

“Is he a bigamist?” asked Peggy.

“He’s in jail on a charge alleging he’s a bigamist,” said the sheriff.

“I was just wondering,” said Peggy. “Two weeks ago he asked me out on a date, said I was special.”

“You’re special,” said Fay,” but Everton’s got two wives that aren’t too happy with him right now.”

“I thought he was a two-timer,” said Peggy. “I hope he pays for his deception.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: The Yankees and The Long Count appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Bury Me in My Black Clothes

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· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
Bury Me in My Black Clothes·

Final Episode

It’s Friday, September 23, 1927, in Hutchinson, Kansas, at the Johnson & Sons Funeral Home, 134 Sherman Avenue, east. The funeral service of Harvey E. Albrecht is starting.

*

As the organ music began, in a subdued voice, Funeral Director William H. Johnson, announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be starting the service shortly; please take your seats in the chapel.”

W. T. Luckett, also known as Reverend Luckett, 37, prepared himself with a brief prayer by asking God for strength and for his message to be helpful for those in need.

One secret a minister often kept from his congregation was the amount of personal pressure a religious leader felt due to the responsibilities of the work. Even though it was a spiritual calling and personally rewarding, stress could weaken the best and the strongest of them. Fortunately, Brother Luckett relied on Sadie, his wife, to run the home, including the needs of their two sons, Russell and Gordon, while William was responding to the needs of the Brethren.

During preparation of Harvey Albrecht’s eulogy, William considered how he had failed the Albrecht family by not doing more to help them solve their domestic problems, specifically, Harvey’s uncontrolled anger. After Harvey’s suicide, Brother Luckett met with Mary—a widow—and her two fatherless girls, Jewel, 18, and Pearl, 15. Like a sickness, Harvey’s anger had spread to the survivors. Harvey and his earthly problems were gone, but his family was left behind, sad and agitated. 

Along with the help of other church leaders, Reverend Luckett’s job was to support and lead his congregation. When duty called, he participated in a proper goodbye and burial for members of his flock. In the case of Harvey, Luckett, as always, had considered the type of sermon to give for the funeral service. Generally, he chose one of three themes: he would emphasize that the time was late and people must get right with their maker; stress the love of God; or delve into the mystery of the human experience.

But, today, for this sermon, Reverend Luckett decided he would address the needs of the Albrecht family while attempting to understand his own emotions. Simply put, he was feeling guilty and unworthy in his role as pastor. He needed to forgive himself for his own inadequacies.

Luckett had known for a long time that Harvey needed help, a spiritual reawakening, but he had been unable to provide assistance.

Reverend Luckett stepped to the podium and said, “Welcome to today’s service honoring Brother Harvey E. Albrecht. Thank you for participating. ‘Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted,’ Matthew 5:4.  

“At today’s service we honor the life of one of our First Church of the Brethren members, Harvey Ephraim Albrecht, 51 years of age, who was a loving and faithful man. Harvey was born November 26, 1875 in Heidelberg Township, York County, PA., and died September 19, 1927 in Hutchinson, Kansas. His parents, John Wesley and Elaranda Juliana, are deceased. His siblings include: Ira Albrecht, Ovia Lefert, Jeremiah Albrecht, John Albrecht, Tempest Albrecht, and Grace Vian.

“Mary Phillips, wife; Jewel and Pearl, children; survive.

“Harvey E. Albrecht and Mary Adella Phillips were married in Abilene, Kansas, on Christmas Day, 1902.

“Harvey was a school teacher, and later, school master in Dickinson County, Kansas.

“In 1915, the Harvey Brown family suffered a devastating loss when two of their children, Olin and Eldon, died in a drowning accident near Abilene, Kansas.

“After relocating to Hutchinson, Harvey became a packer for the Carey Salt Mine.

“Ecclesiastes, 3:1, reminds us why we are here. ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; A time to be born, and a time to die; . . .’

“Let us pray. We just ask you Lord to help us today as we recall our beloved brother Harvey during his time with us. We know that he is with you now, yet we still desire to hold him, fearful of letting him go. Help us today to redirect our powerful emotions of sadness, anger, and loss, so that we will be free to celebrate his life and our lives on earth without regrets. This and all things are possible because of your forgiveness. We are reminded today of our heavenly journey. In your name, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

*

“Sister Sadie will now sing, ‘Count Well the Cost’ by Alexander Mack, Sr.”

*

“Brother Harvey knew God, talked with God, lived with God. He listened. He didn’t just ask God for help when he was weak. He didn’t wait until the last minute to ask for God’s forgiveness. We as a family have lost one of our own, but now he’s part of God’s eternal family. Harvey was a messenger who fought a good fight. We lost a soldier of Christ, but we gained an angel in heaven.

“Harvey is fine. Because he accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior, he’s in a safe, loving place. But for others gathered here, I want to share with you about coping with the feeling of not doing enough, blaming yourself, or blaming others. Some of you are angry with God; God understands. Some are unforgiving. God forgives. God is love.

“Why should we forgive?” asked the preacher. “It’s necessary for our own forgiveness. Jesus said, ‘And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you for your trespasses.’ Mark 11:25. And in Matthew 18:21-22, Peter was told by Jesus to forgive another person ‘Until seventy times seven.’

“Many may ask, why would God do this or let this happen?” continued Brother Luckett. “This is a human question. We know that in John 10:10, God said ‘. . . I am that they might have life, and that they might have it abundantly.’ Harvey knows God as the Good Shepherd. God knows him as a good sheep, one who is saved and has found pasture and is forever part of Jesus Christ’s eternal love. Praise God!”

*

In closing the service, Sister Sadie Luckett sang “Breathe Upon Us, Holy Spirit,” as those in attendance said goodbye to Brother Harvey, filing by his open casket at the front of the chapel. Harvey was wearing his dress black clothes.

*

As Brother Luckett and Mary Adella exchanged words at the conclusion of the service, Mary felt relief amongst her tears. “Thank you,” she said. “Your God’s gift to our congregation. I felt you were talking personally to me, and I felt the Holy Spirit in your words. I’ve forgiven Harvey and I’ve forgiven myself. Thank you, Brother Luckett.”

*

Pearl was also moved by Brother Luckett’s sermon. Was it the circumstances and the setting of the funeral parlor that caused her to more deeply consider her life and afterlife? Was she weak or strong? She forgave her father for the times he had hit her mother. Pearl even forgave her father for killing himself. Brother Luckett was right, she couldn’t move forward if she didn’t give up the burden of anger and judging others.

After the service, outside in a light rain, Pearl said to Delbert, “Do you think you’d still like me if I didn’t wear lipstick?”

“Of course I’d still like you, Pearl,” replied Delbert. “It’s not your lipstick, but you, the person, I like. Would you stop liking me if all my hair fell out?”

Pearl smiled at Delbert. He was her best friend. She held out her hand and he took it.

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Bury Me in My Black Clothes appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Early Birds at the Funeral Parlor

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/Sheriff-Fay-F.-Browns-Badge-Episode-39.mp3
· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
Early Birds at the Funeral Parlor·

It’s Friday, September 23, 1927, in Hutchinson, Kansas, at the Johnson & Sons Funeral Home, 134 Sherman Avenue, east. People are arriving for the funeral service of Harvey E. Albrecht.

*

Mary Adella Albrecht, widow of Harvey Albrecht, looked in the mirror before exiting the funeral home’s bathroom. Out loud, she said, “I can do this.”

As Mary opened the door, she was ambushed—abruptly challenged—by sister-in-law, Grace Vian.

“What’s got into you, Della?” asked Grace.

“What do you mean?” said Mary, answering Grace’s question with a question.

“We’re all sorry for your loss,” said Grace, “but you know better than most, that wives should submit themselves to their husbands.”

“You don’t know about our marriage,” Mary replied. “Now is not the time for your accusations. The service will be starting soon.”

“You were not silent; it is your failing,” stated Grace.

“Last week, when Harvey pushed Pearl down to the floor, I decided our family needed to be apart from Harvey.”

“Did you at least consider talking to Brother Luckett about your marriage?” asked Grace.

“Harvey forbid it;” answered Mary, “he said it was private.”

“Well, were all shocked by his death,” said Grace. “You know he was our oldest. We’re devastated. What of the girls? How will you raise them without Harvey?”

“They’re not babies anymore,” replied Mary.

“That’s for sure,” said Grace.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Mary.

“Pearl is fifteen, but she wears her hair like a boy and dresses like a fallen angel.”

“Grace,” said Mary, “you’re out of line! I’m sure you’re upset at losing your brother. We have a funeral service to complete. If you want to criticize the way Harvey and I have raised our girls, at least wait until his body is in the ground.”

*

“Did you hear the fight last night?” asked William H. Johnson, co-owner with his brother of Johnson & Sons Funeral Home.

“I missed it,” answered Sheriff Fay Brown, “although I heard that people at the fairgrounds were kept informed, blow by blow, over the loudspeakers.”

“In the seventh round, Dempsey almost regained his heavyweight crown,” said Johnson. “Tunney was down for more than ten seconds, but the referee enforced a new rule. He didn’t start the count until Tunney was in a neutral corner.”

“It’s a tough way to make money,” said the sheriff.

“The same could be said for your work,” Johnson replied.

“Hah!” said Brown. “Not everyone would want your job where you collect and prepare bodies.”

“Like you, I see my work as serving the public,” said the undertaker. “I’ve been doing this ever since I was a boy. First, my father taught me to build caskets.”

“Speaking of caskets,” I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” said Brown. “Is it true that in the flood of 1903 your father paddled a casket home to keep from wadding through the high water?”

Johnson smiled as he remembered, “That’s one of those tall tales that’s actually true. The coffin you refer to was lined with lead. It was heavy, but water tight.”

*

“Thanks for being here with me,” said Pearl Albrecht, 15, to her friend, Delbert Wright, 14. “You’re a true friend.”

“You’re welcome,” said Delbert. “By the way, you look nice.”

“Thanks, mother gave Jewel and me her sight and smell test before we left home. Obviously, no makeup or fashionable clothes today!”

Delbert said, “My other choices were to go to school, or I could be at the State Fairgrounds right now listening to the Ku Klux Klan’s imperial wizard give a speech.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in the Knights of the KKK,” said Pearl.

“Interested, but not supportive. As you know, our family is Catholic. The Klan considers us un-American and un-Christian.”

“In school, my teacher said the Klan of today isn’t the same Klan that lynched people right after the Civil War,” said Pearl. “Also, it’s been losing power since Governor Allen took them to court. Do you feel safe here in Hutchinson?”

“In school, they talk about how we have freedom of religion,” said Delbert, “but when the KKK has their state convention in Hutch, along with a parade down Main Street, it makes me wonder how many people actually believe in freedom of religion for those that aren’t Protestant.”

“I’m sorry you don’t feel safe here.” said Pearl.

“Pearl, because of you, I feel welcome. I’m lucky that when we moved to town, my parents chose a house on your block.”

“One person can make a difference in another person’s life,” said Pearl. “You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.”

“I may go watch the parade tonight,” said Delbert.

“The KKK parade? Why would you do that?”

“The Klansmen will march in their regalia, but without masks,” said Delbert. “I’m curious how many people I’ll recognize.”

*

“Mrs. Sheriff . . .” said Jewel Albrecht.

“Honey, call me Cora,” said Cora Brown, matron and cook at the Reno County Jail.

“Okay, Cora,” said Jewel. “I’m glad the funeral service is here, not at our meetinghouse.”

“What’s the difference to you?” asked Cora.

“I didn’t see daddy’s body at home, and I’d like to keep my peaceful memories of our Brethren meetinghouse. It shouldn’t make any difference, but that’s how I’m feeling right now.”

“Goodbyes are hard,” said Cora.

“Mr. Johnson let us say goodbye to daddy, but I understand we’ll do it again formerly here and at Fairlawn Cemetery.”

“My father died five years ago when I was 28,” advised Cora. “I remember the goodbyes. Being older than you are now, I was still surprised. I mean, I knew his death was inevitable. He was 65. Like you, I have a sister who will always understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

“Even though Jewel and I fight, we do love one another.”

“I expect you’ll be even closer now,” said Cora.

“Will you and mama stay friends now that we’re moving back home?” asked Jewel.

“I’m counting on it,” said Cora. “We’ll invite you over and you can keep us up-to-date on how you’re doing. But, don’t be a stranger. Call or stop by anytime.”

“Cora, you and Fay are special people. I had no idea that I’d meet the sheriff and his wife, and we’d become friends.”

“Jewel, you and your sister are just beginning your lives. Your father’s death may seem like a set-back for you, but his departure can help make you stronger.”  

“I’d rather not go through this to be stronger,” said Jewel, “but we don’t have any choice. Brother Luckett explained that God doesn’t make bad things happen in order to test us. He said that God expects people to help one another. That’s what you and the sheriff have done. Even though you’re both incredibly busy with responsibilities, you welcomed us to your residence, and have cared for us like family.

As Cora put her arm around her young friend’s shoulder, she said, “You may not be a blood relative, but you’re family now.”

Jewel smelled a faint odor of perfume from Cora and thought of how the Church of the Brethren frowned upon it, but they didn’t know Cora.  

“I want to be like you,” said Jewel. “When I grow up, I want to be confident enough and loving enough to welcome strangers into my life. I want to make a difference, one person at a time.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Early Birds at the Funeral Parlor appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Can’t Sleep

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/Sheriff-Fay-F.-Browns-Badge-Episode-38.mp3
· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
Can’t Sleep·

It’s Thursday, August 22, 1927, in Hutchinson, Kansas, the day after Harvey E. Albrecht killed himself, and the day before his funeral. His daughters, Pearl and Jewel, can’t sleep.

*

“Are you still awake?” asked Pearl to her sister.

“Wide awake,” said Jewel, who was in the bed next to her.

“I was just thinking about us, how our lives have changed forever,” said Pearl. “I was prepared to distance myself from daddy, but I wasn’t ready for this.”

“It’s hard to believe,” Jewel responded. “We knew he took his troubles out on mother, but I never thought he’d hurt himself.”

“Mom blames herself,” said Pearl. “We need to assure her that daddy wasn’t thinking right.”

“Cora’s been so good for mama,” said Jewell. “Watching the two of them together, who would believe they’ve only known each other for a week?”

“We’ll be moving back home after the funeral service tomorrow,” said Pearl. “I wonder, do you think mom and Cora will stay in touch? Delbert and I are going to keep visiting the sheriff. He’s a good man.”

“I’m going to help mom with expenses,” said Jewel. “We’ll need to figure things out. We’ve got a new reality.”

“I wonder what she’d say if I quit school?” asked Pearl.

“‘Don’t,’ is what she’d say,” said Jewel.

“I might be able to work more hours at Rorabaugh-Wiley’s,” said Pearl. “I like modeling, and the money can help us.”

“We’re better off than a lot of people,” said Jewel. “Sheriff Brown was an orphan at age six. He was adopted.”

“He’s proof that losing your parents isn’t the end of the world, but I hope mom lives a long and healthy life,” said Pearl.

*

“I was called a harlot today because I was wearing nice clothing and lipstick,” said Pearl.

“Do you even know what the word harlot means?” asked Jewel.

“Of course, I know,” said Pearl. “A whore, a prostitute; that’s proof I learned something at Vacation Bible School.”

Jewel laughed. “Being Brethren means being modest,” said Jewel. “So when we wear fashionable clothing, we confuse people.”

“Agreed,” said Pearl, “but I’m confused about everything lately. Dad beats up mom. She files for divorce. He kills himself. He goes to heaven. And I’m a harlot, not fit to join him?”

“Pearl,” said Jewel, “you’re not a harlot!”

“I wonder if Charles Lindbergh, Jr. is a Christian?” asked Pearl. “I don’t hear anyone questioning him about his religion. He’s allowed to have a worldly goal.”

“He’s a man,” said Jewell. “The rules are different.”

“There are a few women pilots who are daredevils,” said Pearl. “Are they going to hell?”

“That’s a question for Brother Luckett,” said Jewel. “He gave you time to ask questions yesterday, but you weren’t in the mood.”

“I think I know what he’d say,” said Pearl. “That modesty is an outward sign that we value God’s way of life; that we should fade into the background, serving the needs of others, asking Jesus to take center stage.”

*

“I’m hungry,” said Pearl.

“Hungry or worried?” asked Jewel.

“Both,” answered Pearl.

“Do you think Cora would mind if we found a snack in the kitchen?” asked Jewel.

“She’s told us to help ourselves to anything,” said Pearl. “She said to pretend the sheriff’s residence is our home.”

“Let’s go downstairs,” said Jewel. “Last one down is a rotten egg!”

“We’ve got to be quiet or we’ll wake mom, Cora, or Fay,” said Pearl.

“I want a bowl of cereal!” said Jewel as she headed out the guest-bedroom door.

In the dark, the two girl’s quietly tip-toed down the hallway and the stairs to the first floor. Jewel started to laugh before covering her mouth.

“Shhh!” said Pearl.

In the kitchen, Pearl quickly found two bowls and spoons. Jewel stood before the ice box, holding the Corn Flakes, when they both heard a nearby sound. They held their breath. Was it a prisoner escaping? they thought.

Just then, Fay walked through the doorway and said, “Who wants a slice of Cora’s cherry pie?”

“Sheriff, you scared us!” said Pearl.

“Not my intention,” Fay commented.

“Are you hungry?” asked Pearl.

“Or worried?” asked Jewel.

“A bit of both, I imagine,” Fay said. “The funeral service tomorrow . . . I mean this morning . . . is on my mind because I know it’s a hard time in your young lives.”

“Sheriff,” said Pearl, “you and Mrs. Sheriff have been like angels to us. You came along just when we needed you, and I don’t think that was an accident or a coincidence.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Fay, “but you girls are deserving of love and care; your mother too.”

“You’re easier to talk to than Brother Luckett,” said Pearl.

“We’re all different in our own ways,” said Fay.

“Sheriff Brown,” said Jewel, “Do you mind if I ask you about when you were a child?”

“Not at all, if it will help you,” said Fay.

“After your parents died, how did you cope?” asked Jewel. “Were you mad at God?”

“I don’t know that I was mad, but I was bewildered,” said Fay. “I questioned how a good God could allow bad things to happen.”

“Me, too!” said Pearl. “I almost asked Brother Luckett, ‘Why would God create Adam and Eve, if he knew they were going to sin?’ He had to know, right?”

“Girls,” said Fay, “you both know scripture better than me. You have a minister who can explain the Bible to you, and don’t forget your mother; she’s quite knowledgeable about Jesus, and she has His spirit.”

“How were you able to cope?” Jewel asked again.

“There were a combination of things that kept me from driving the train off the track,” answered Fay. “I had two brothers and two sisters who were in the same boat as me. We were split up, but we were able to visit one another on special occasions. You have each other and you have your mother. Right now, your world may feel like it’s tumbling down, but there are brighter days ahead. Give yourself some time to heal.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” said Jewel. “You make sense.”

“I got adopted by a loving family,” continued Fay. “You still have a family to count on, to lean on; you can love one another.”

“Did you have a scripture that gave you strength?” asked Pearl.

“Yes,” said Fay. “It was a Christian children’s song. It gave me hope when I was weak. You know it. It can help you, too. Let’s sing it together.”

In a little boy’s soft voice, Fay started singing. The girls joined in with a smile.

They sang:

“Jesus loves me this I know.

For the Bible tells me so.

Little ones to Him belong.

They are weak, but He is strong.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

The Bible tells me so.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Can’t Sleep appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: “Is My Dad in Heaven?”

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/Sheriff-Fay-F.-Browns-Badge-Episode-37.mp3
· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
“Is My Dad in Heaven?”·

It’s Wednesday, September 21, 1927, in Hutchinson, Kansas. Mary Adella Albrecht must tell her two girls that their father is dead.

*

“I need to collect Pearl and Jewel before they hear from someone else of their father’s death,” said Mary. “I need to leave right now.”

“Of course, thank you for your help,” said Detective Salmon. “Again, our condolences.”

“Mary, I’d be happy to drive you, if you wish,” said Reverend Luckett.

“Thank you,” said Mary. “Let me see if Cora has time to accompany us.”

“We’ve got the jail covered without her,” said Sheriff Fay Brown, Cora’s husband. He was referring to Cora’s responsibilities as the jail matron and cook.

Suddenly, the crowded house began to empty. Fay left first to speak with Cora, who was on the front porch. Deputy Sheriff Martin Jolliffe was ready to continue his paper route after a long delay. He had been the one who discovered Harvey’s body on the floor of the house while attempting to serve him a petition for divorce. Even Chief of Police George Duckworth took the opportunity to leave. Once outside, Duckworth extinguished his smoking pipe, and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Remaining behind, but not for long, was Detective Salmon and the Johnson and Son’s undertaker team, including co-owner William H. Johnson.

Before departing, Mary noticed Alto Stearman, her neighbor, in front of his house. She stopped for a minute to tell him of her husband’s death and that he had killed himself. Stearman shared his condolences, then said, “I’ll look after the house.”

Shortly, Reverend Luckett opened his car door for Cora, who climbed into the back seat. Mary joined Luckett in the front. They would stop at the Oxford Café to pick up Jewel, 18, who was a waitress, before driving to the high school to notify her sister, Pearl, 15.

*

“What’s wrong, mother?” asked Jewel, surprised to see her mother with Brother Luckett “What are you doing here? Is Pearl hurt?”

“Can you leave with us, now?” replied Mary.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jewel. “Is it Pearl? . . . It’s daddy!”

Mary confirmed her guess with a nod. “Can you leave with us, now?” she repeated. “We’re going to pick up Pearl at school.”

“Yes, give me a second,” said Jewel as she began to untie her apron, “let me tell my boss.”

*

“What’s going on?” asked Pearl, noting the presence of Reverend Luckett. Having had two bothers drown when she was younger, her next question didn’t seem out of place. “Did someone die? Is Jewel okay?”

“Let’s talk outside,” suggested Luckett.

Outdoors, Jewel and Cora watched from their automobile as Pearl learned of her father’s death.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Mary said, “It was suicide. Daddy took poison while at the house. He was afraid of going to the penitentiary.”

Pearl turned to Luckett and asked, “Is my dad in heaven?”

“Your mother suggested we go to the sheriff’s residence and talk as a family about what happened,” said Luckett.

“As a family?” asked Pearl. “Fine with me,” said Pearl, “but that’s my only question. Is my dad in heaven?”

At Luckett’s automobile, Jewel was waiting for Mary and Pearl as they approached. All three simultaneously opened their arms, welcoming one another, closing the circle with fear and love. One of the girls, it sounded like Jewel, said, “I’m sorry Mama.”

*

The Albrecht’s and Brother Luckett sat in the living room of the sheriff’s residence. Jailer Jess Blanpied was in his office, in charge of the prisoners. Occie Phares Hamilton, Cora’s sister, freed up Cora by taking on the duties of lead cook for the evening meal.

Cora and Fay were waiting in the wings, talking quietly in the kitchen with Occie. They wanted to be available and supportive to the Albrecht family they had grown to love, but they also wanted to give the Albrecht’s private time with their minister.

“Do you think he killed himself from fear of going to the penitentiary, like he said in the note?” asked Jewel.

“That’s what he wrote,” answered her mother. “If I hadn’t filed for divorce, he’d be alive today.”

If Cora had been in the room, she would have put that theory to rest. She had already told Mary that Harvey was the violent one, that he could have also hurt Pearl during the physical assault. Mary did what was necessary. She was protecting herself and her children.

“Brother Luckett,” said Mary, “in Corinthians it says that God will not let us be tested beyond what we can handle. Did I do the right thing by seeking a divorce? I didn’t see another choice.”

“The scripture you mention, 1 Corinthians: 10:13, is often viewed as God giving us trials and tribulations to strengthen us. Actually, the scripture written by Apostle Paul to the Christian church in Corinth is about temptation, not about adversity.

“As human beings, at some point we’ll face things that are more than we can handle. The promise of scripture is not that we won’t go through hard times. Scripture promises us that at all times, good or bad, God wants to be our help and our strength.

“It’s not that God won’t give you more than you can handle,” said Luckett, “but that God will help you handle all that you’ve been given.

“We all need help at various times in our lives and God wants us to ask for help. God wants us to cry out in prayer, but we are also here to help one another. We were created to help one another.”

Pearl, quiet since sitting down, asked Reverend Lockett: “Is my dad in Heaven?”

“Yes,” answered Luckett. “I believe he is. Romans 8:10 states: ‘But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness.’ God loved Harvey even if everything he did wasn’t in keeping with what God would have wanted.”

Pearl was quiet. She had mixed feelings. She also had other questions, but they would wait.

Jewel said, “He chose suicide over possibly going to jail? He chose suicide over us?”

“Suicide is a sin. It’s murder,” said Luckett. “But the underlying sin is one we all struggle with—lack of faith. He couldn’t see himself coping with his life any longer. Like many before him, he didn’t necessarily want to die, he wanted the pain to stop.”

“My sadness is mixed with guilt and anger,” said Mary. “Like Jewel, I feel like Harvey chose death over family. It hurts that Harvey left us the way he did.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: “Is My Dad in Heaven?” appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Brother Luckett and the Death Flies

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Sheriff-Fay-F.-Browns-Badge-Episode-36.mp3
· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
Brother Luckett and the Death Flies·

It’s September 21, 1927 in Hutchinson, Kansas. A man has killed himself by taking poison. Everyone presumes the deceased is Harvey Albrecht, Mary Adella’s husband. Waiting outside for permission to enter, Mary has grown impatient. Finally, she opens the door, saying, “I’ll identify my own husband. No one knows him better than me.” Reverend William Luckett follows her inside.

*

Reverend William Luckett arrived on the scene of a suicide, and immediately recognized Mary Adella Albrecht sitting on the front porch. He also recognized the death flies.

A detective from the Hutchinson police force had called him and asked him to respond. On the telephone, Detective George Salmon told the minister, “We’re about 100% sure that the deceased is Harvey E. Albrecht, a member of the Church of the Brethren. Do you know him?” he had asked.

“Yes, I know Brother Harvey,” answered Luckett.

“He left a suicide note,” said Salmon.

“I can leave here immediately,” said Luckett. “Are you at Harvey and Mary’s home?

“Yes, on Avenue A, west,” said the officer. “Mary Albrecht’s outside. We’d appreciate it if you would identify the body and give Mary some support. Suicides can be tough.”

“I’ll leave right now,” said Luckett. “Thank you for calling.”

*

As Luckett, 37, drove to the Albrecht house, he said a prayer for the Albrecht family and reviewed his history with them. He tried not to judge them, reminding himself that only Jesus Christ was perfect.

The Albrecht’s had already had their share of challenges and now the survivors—Mary, Jewel, and Pearl—would have to cope with another death.

Years ago, after the two Albrecht boys drowned in a farm pond, Harvey had questioned his faith. He became insular and hard to reach. Recently, a little over a week ago, Harvey severely battered Mary. She, in turn, filed for divorce. The family was unraveling, and now, if Harvey was dead, there would be more questions about why a loving God had permitted it to happen.

Like many mothers, Mary Adella, 51, had picked up the slack when her husband stumbled. She had done her best to hold the family together even while her husband had taken his anger out on her.

Luckett considered Jewel Albrecht, 18, and her sister, Pearl, 15. They were no longer little girls enjoying summer ice cream socials and Vacation Bible School. They had gradually stopped practicing nonconformity, simplicity, and modesty in dress. It was as though they had been captured and programmed by the radio, music, and movies of the 1920s.

Brother Luckett tried to evaluate the spiritual progress of Jewel and Pearl so that he’d be ready to help the girls accept their father’s death. They hadn’t claimed Jesus as their personal savior yet, and they didn’t seem to be actively working towards salvation. Even though they probably had the knowledge and the understanding, they lacked the commitment. Of course, he prayed they would grow spiritually and eventually choose the act of believer’s baptism.

*

Mary Adella Albrecht entered her home, no longer sobbing, followed by Reverend Luckett.

Cora Brown, 33, who had hurried to the house to comfort Mary, wasn’t sure if she should follow her inside the home or remain outside. Reverend Luckett was with Mary, and the house already had a crowd of people.

Police Chief Duckworth, 60, standing inside the door, smoking his pipe, said to Mary, “Are you sure you want to see your husband?”

Mary replied, “Everyone else has seen him, but I’m the one who will be able to tell you if he’s Harvey.”

Duckworth moved aside.

Something smells different in our house, thought Mary, and it’s not just the tobacco smoke. Then she saw the flies. “Shoo! Shoo!” Mary said, as she swept her hands at the insects.

She knelt down to the man’s body, lying on a blanket, and was able to see the side of his face. There was no doubt. It was her husband.

“It’s him,” she said, her voice calm.

Sheriff Fay Brown, 36, said, “Mary, my deepest sympathies to you and your girls.”

Deputy Martin Jolliffe, 64, smoking a cigar, said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Albrecht.”

“Thank you, thank you,” answered Mary.

“May we pray?” asked Reverend Luckett as he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Dear Jesus,” said Luckett, “we ask that you watch over Mary and her girls in this time of sorrow. We seek that you give them strength to accept their deep personal loss. In your name. Amen.”

“I’m Detective Salmon,” said the city police officer to Mrs. Albrecht, “my condolences. I have a few questions for you, but they can wait until later, if you wish. Are you sure you want to remain in here?”

“How much longer does Harvey . . . How much longer does Harvey’s body need to lay on the floor with these flies?”

“Johnson & Son ought to be here shortly,” answered the detective. “They’ll take him to their funeral home where Coroner Stewart will examine the body.” Detective Salmon, 38, continued, “When was the last time you talked with Harvey?”

“I haven’t seen him or talked with him since last Tuesday morning, that was the day after he hurt me,” said Mary as she unconsciously touched her nose. “Sheriff Brown and Cora have been kind enough to allow us to stay at their residence. Deputy Jolliffe told me that the last day Harvey worked at the salt mine was Monday.”

“Yes, we have his statement,” said Salmon.

“Did he kill himself?” asked Mary.

“Yes, it appears he took strychnine poison,” said Salmon.

“May I see the note he left?” asked Mary.

Salmon glanced at Chief Duckworth before answering, “I don’t see any reason why not. Please, have a seat.” Collecting the paperwork, Salmon handed it to Mary, and said, “These are the two notes we found on the table in the bedroom.”

Mary read:

“Good bye. I will not spend the rest of my life in the penitentiary. I am going home. Here is the deed, fire insurance policy and my money. The pass book, you have.

Bury me in my black clothes. The home is yours, goodbye.

Your loving husband,

Harvey Brown.

Took strychnine.”

Mary read the other note:

“My dear wife and children:

I hereby make my sincere confession that I have done wrong to you. God knows what I have suffered. I would not have it happen at any cost. Forgive me. Am enclosing you some cash to meet your obligations. I expect to meet you . . . It is not my wish that any of you shall want or suffer for necessities.

I am your loving husband.

Harvey Brown.”

“I need to collect Pearl and Jewel before they hear of their father’s death from someone else,” said Mary. “May I leave now?” she asked.

*

The Johnson & Son ambulance arrived at the Albrecht home to pick up the deceased. In the passenger seat was co-owner and undertaker, William H. Johnson. As they approached the house, Cora welcomed them and thanked them for coming.

When Johnson observed a metallic green fly, he knew he had the correct address. The insect was sensitive to odors associated with decomposition.

Like a good hostess, Cora opened the front door for them and announced their arrival.

Seconds later, a man from the next-door yard said to Cora, “Ma’am, has something happened to Harvey?”

“Yes,” she answered and waved him over to the porch. “Are you his neighbor?”

“Alto Stearman, pleased to meet you. Lived here since 1920. We’ve even exchanged house keys. Is Harvey sick?”

“I’m sorry to tell you that he’s passed, he’s dead,” said Cora.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Stearman, his mouth dropping open. “He was a great guy, nicest neighbor on the block. Mary and the girls are wonderful too. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You say you have a key to the house?” asked Cora.”

“That’s right,” said Stearman, “we look after each other’s house when one or the other is out of town.”

“There might be something you can do,” said Cora, “but let me talk to Mr. Johnson before he leaves. I don’t know how soon before Mary and the girls will return here. The house should be welcoming for them.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Brother Luckett and the Death Flies appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: I Killed Him

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Sheriff-Fay-F.-Browns-Badge-Episode-35..mp3
· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
“I Killed Him”·

On September 21, 1927, in Hutchinson, Kansas, while attempting to serve divorce papers to Harvey E. Albrecht at his home, Reno County Deputy Sheriff Martin Jolliffe found a man’s body inside on the floor. Mary Adella Albrecht, Harvey’s wife, was waiting outside before picking up some of her personal belongings, unaware of the deputy’s discovery.

*

Cora Brown’s unofficial communication network was impeccable. Uninvited, she arrived at the death scene prior to the first city police officer.

Her personal contacts at the Bell Telephone System’s central switching office were highly efficient. Cora had worked as an operator for a decade until the November 1926 election. Then, Fay, her husband, was elected to be the new Reno County Sheriff.

Whenever a male sheriff took office—and only men had held the job—it was expected that his wife would become the new matron and cook of the county jail. Cora had willingly agreed to the new full-time position. She supported her husband and was a vital part of the team.

Because Hutchinson had not yet modernized its telephone system to dial phones, Cora was able to learn of the found body at Mary Albrecht’s house on Avenue A, west, due to an overheard, not-so-private, telephone conversation. Immediately after Deputy Sheriff Jolliffe called the police department to request a city officer respond to investigate the death, Cora’s phone rang with the breaking news.

*

Cora had to reach Mary, fast, but she took the time to call Fay’s office at the temporary courthouse. He was out, not available. She considered calling Mary’s minister, Reverend Luckett. Finally, Cora called her sister, Occie Phares Hamilton, who was her back-up cook, instead of putting all the responsibility on Jailer Jess Blanpied and some jail trustees.

When Cora arrived at the Harvey and Mary Albrecht house, she saw Mary standing in the shade, holding a red rose from a nearby bush. Cora prepared herself. She knew that a man was dead in Mary’s house, and like Martin, she figured the odds were pretty good it was Harvey.

“Cora, what’s wrong? Has anything happened to the girls?” asked Mary, walking towards Cora.

“They’re fine,” said Cora, “but, I’m not sure about Harvey.”

“Have you found him?” asked Mary. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know for sure, yet,” said Cora. “Let me speak to Deputy Jolliffe first.”

“But he’s inside the house . . .” said Mary.

“Let me talk to him first,” said Cora, as she walked towards the door. “Have a seat on the porch. I’ll be right back.”

Mary wasn’t being allowed into her own house and she wasn’t being told what was transpiring. She moved to her porch and sat down on the swing chair. Worried, she stood up, paced, and looked in the window, but the curtains were closed.

In quick succession, two automobiles arrived on the street near the house. A city detective with Chief of Police George Duckworth, and Sheriff Fay Brown in the county’s new Studebaker. In the last week, Fay had become Mary’s friend. She and her two girls, Pearl, 15, and Jewel, 18, were staying at the sheriff’s residence for their own safety while they waited on a decision about the divorce Mary had filed.

Mary was confused about the police response and her anxiety was increasing. She feared the worst, and she didn’t like being excluded from her own house, especially having information about her husband, withheld.

“Fay,” said Mary, as she walked toward the sheriff.

“I’m sorry,” said Fay.

“Sorry about what?” asked Mary, looking for clues about Harvey’s well-being or fate.

“Oh . . .” said Fay.

Without speaking, Chief Duckworth opened the front door, and bumped into Cora Brown on her way out. Then, he disappeared into the house.

“Cora,” said Fay, “what are you doing here? Who’s at the jail?”

“I’m here for Mary,” she answered. “Occie’s covering for me.”

“Is Harvey dead?” asked Mary, not sure whether to look at Cora or Fay.

“They think it’s him,” said Cora, as she walked to Mary and held out her hands.

“They think it’s him?” said Mary. “Let me go inside and I’ll tell them. I have a right to see my own husband.”

Fay said, “If it’s Harvey, I’m sorry for your loss. But let’s be sure first. I’ll go check on the status of the investigation, and be right back.”

“Tell them I want to see my husband,” said Mary. “I want to see Harvey.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Fay.

As Fay vanished, Mary turned to Cora and said, “Why can’t I see him?”

“They think the man is Harvey, but they want to be sure,” said Cora. “Harvey left a note. He said he was killing himself.”

“Are they sure he’s dead?” asked Mary. “Have you seen him?”

“Yes, the man’s dead,” said Cora.

“Did he shoot himself?” asked Mary. “With his shotgun?”

“Poison,” said Cora. “I’m sorry.”

“I want to see him,” repeated Mary.

*

Fay read the suicide note:

“Good bye. I will not spend the rest of my life in the penitentiary. I am going home. Here is the deed, fire insurance policy and my money. The pass book, you have.

Bury me in my black clothes. The home is yours, goodbye.

Your loving husband,

Harvey Brown.

Took strychnine.”

*

Mary and Cora heard a car door close. They looked towards the street, and saw a man walking towards them.

Mary finally began sobbing. As the man got closer, Mary said, “Reverend Luckett, they think Harvey’s dead.”

“Yes, they asked me to identify him,” replied the minister, “but I’m here for you.”

“I killed him,” said Mary.

“No, my dear, he left a suicide note,” said the minister.

“I killed my husband,” said Mary.

“Mary,” added Cora, “Harvey made the decision to kill himself. You made the decision to protect yourself and your girls. This is not your fault.”

“Did he say why he did it?” asked Mary. “Was it because of the divorce? I want to see him now, and I want to read the note.”

Mary Adella Albrecht stood up and walked to the door. As she grabbed the door knob and turned it, she said, “I’ll identify my own husband. No one knows him better than me.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: I Killed Him appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.

Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Knock, Knock, Knock

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Sheriff-Fay-F.-Browns-Badge-Episode-34.mp3
· Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge:
Knock, Knock, Knock·

It’s Wednesday, September 21, 1927, in Hutchinson, Kansas. A civil process server is attempting to deliver divorce papers to Harvey E. Albrecht.

*

“Knock, knock, knock,” was the sound heard by Stearman as he attempted to get some rest. It was the second time he’d heard the sound of impatient knuckles pounding on his neighbor’s door. Working at night, being a day sleeper, was a challenge. So many interruptions.

At 64 years of age, Reno County Deputy Martin Joliffe had seen about everything imaginable during his career as a sheriff and peace officer, including years as a parole officer working at the reformatory.

As a civil process server working for Sheriff Fay Brown, Jolliffe delivered papers. A majority of the legal documents involved financial debt. Some led to evictions by landlords. Other times, a home or farm was sold at a sheriff’s sale because a mortgage wasn’t paid.

On Wednesday, September 21, 1927, Deputy Jolliffe attempted to serve a summons in regard to divorce papers on Harvey E. Albrecht at the home of the defendant. “Knock, knock, knock,” the sound of Jolliffe’s knuckles on the wooden door at Albrecht’s residence, went unanswered. 

After finding no one home, Jolliffe left a note on the door and continued his paper route.

At the same time, in a coincidental moment, a city officer was serving a municipal summons to Mary Adella Albrecht, at the sheriff’s residence, 15 Ave B, east, in regard to her daughter, Pearl, who was 15 years old. The alleged violation was underage cigarette smoking in public.

*

Within reason, police officers are given flexibility or discretion to do their job. If it had been up to Anna Kelly, police matron, she wouldn’t have pursued this specific underage smoking complaint. Kelly knew that Pearl Albrecht was attending school, working part-time, had an improved attitude, and was living at Sheriff Brown’s residence due to family troubles, specifically because of her father battering her mother.

But, Kelly had lawful orders. An influential businessman had asked Police Chief George Duckworth to investigate an “incorrigible young flapper smoking cigarettes in public,” the night of the downtown Frolic.

*

Deputy Jolliffe had learned that the last day Harvey Albrecht worked at the Carey Salt Mine was on Monday, two days earlier. Currently, Albrecht’s Ford Model-T was parked in front of his house. No one responded to the deputy’s knocks at the door, or to his telephone calls. Joliffe considered: Is he inside? If not, where is he? Maybe Albrecht’s wife would have an idea.

Jolliffe stopped by the county jail and said hello to his old friend, Jailer Jess Blanpied. After a brief visit, Jolliffe talked with Mary Albrecht in the sheriff’s residence. As soon as he introduced himself as a process server, Mary had a question.

“Have you served my husband his divorce papers yet?” she asked.

“No, but that’s why I’m here,” said Jolliffe.

“You’re spending time on my 15-year-old girl smoking fags two weeks ago but you can’t find my husband who works at Carey Salt?” she asked.

“Ma’am, I don’t have any knowledge of papers for your 15-year-old girl,” said Jolliffe, “and Harvey hasn’t been to work since Monday. If he’s home, he’s not answering the door.”

“Oh,” said Mary, beginning to see a fuller picture. “Is our car in front of the house?” she continued.

“The green Tudor Sedan?” asked Jolliffe.

“Yes, that’s ours,” replied Mary, then asked, “Have you called our telephone number?”

“Repeatedly, no answer,” said Jolliffe. He then inquired, “If Harvey’s not home, do you have any idea where he might be?”

Mary thought for a minute. “If the car’s at the house, I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve got a key; if you want to unlock the door and search for him, I’ll get it for you.”

“If you’re not busy right now, would you accompany me to your home?” asked Jolliffe.

“Sure,” agreed Mary, “I have a couple of personal belongings to pick up there. Give me a minute.” Mary found Cora and gave her an update prior to departing with the deputy.

*

Delbert and Pearl had attended the State Fair on Monday, the free day for students, but instead of examining the carnival or the booths, their eyes were in the clouds. They searched for their planes giving sky rides, and reviewed their life-changing experiences at Albright Airfield.

“I want to be an airplane mechanic,” said Delbert, “and maybe someday, an engineer or designer.”

“I’m not sure want I want to be,” said Pearl, “but the sky’s the limit.”

Pearl Albrecht had settled into a productive routine of attending Hutchinson High School and working part-time modeling at Rorabaugh-Wiley’s department store. A few times, rather than wear her Lindy outfit, she had been asked to showcase the latest fashionable outfits that already fit her flapper style. She welcomed the change.

Recently, at the Oxford Café where Jewel Albrecht was a waitress, she witnessed a serious assault. An upset man entered the restaurant looking for an employee who had kissed his wife, also an employee. The husband gave the alleged kisser a choice, leave town or become his punching bag. After the accused refused to leave Hutch, he was beat so bad he was hospitalized.

Mary was healing physically and emotionally. She and Cora worked together, shared stories, and grew closer. Cora appreciated the respectable companionship.

*

As Jolliffe and Mrs. Albrecht approached her house on Avenue A, west, they agreed to walk to the door together, but for only Jolliffe to enter. The idea was to minimize any potential confrontation between Mary and Harvey. After all, said Mary to the deputy, as she lightly touched her nose, “Harvey keeps his shotgun by the front door.”

Mary remained on the hot sidewalk while Jolliffe stepped to the porch. “Knock, knock, knock,” his knuckles sounded. Jolliffe announced his presence to a closed door: “Mr. Albrecht, deputy sheriff, open up.”

With no response, Jolliffe slide the key into the lock and turned it. Then he rotated the knob and pushed the door open. Suddenly, his nostrils were on alert. He prepared for what he knew was next.

“Mrs. Albrecht,” Jolliffe said, “please wait in the car while I search the house. I’ll come out to talk to you when I’m done.”

The deputy took one step into the residence, closed the door behind him, and pinched his nostrils. It was a recognizable odor. Half-heartedly, he said to an empty house, “Sheriff’s Office, anyone here?”

Jolliffe discovered what he had expected. A man, lying face down on a blanket, was dead.

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

The post Sheriff Fay F. Brown’s Badge: Knock, Knock, Knock appeared first on Sandhenge Publications.