The Atlantic County Jail

As part of my ongoing research on the history of capital punishment in New Jersey, I recently completed fieldwork along the Jersey Shore. This included visiting various county courthouses, where I examined 19th-century court records. I also visited historic jails and local historical societies.

Last week, I focused specifically on Atlantic County, where I investigated records related to the old jail in May’s Landing, the county seat. Built in 1879, this sturdy structure underwent numerous modifications over the decades. According to a 2000 architectural report, the jail is notable for its distinctive Jersey ironstone walls, arranged in a unique pattern that enhances its historical significance.1

atlantic county jail
The 1879 Atlantic County Jail in May’s Landing,

In 1906, the county erected an additional structure—the sheriff’s house and office—which still stands on the courthouse square. Despite changes in corrections philosophy and various structural alterations, the aging jail housed inmates until 1964. In 1984, a modern county prison went up outside  May’s Landing, leading to the demolition of most of the original complex, except the stone 1879 structure and the sheriff’s house. 

Only a few jurors and official witnesses were present to observe the hanging. However, a crowd gathered in the county seat that September day. Just before Labriola was led to the gallows, Deputy Sheriff Enoch Johnson summoned the official spectators to enter the execution yard.

Labriola’s execution marked the last hanging at the Atlantic County Jail and was the next-to-last hanging in New Jersey. A new law mandated the use of the electric chair for executions, ending the era of hangings in the Garden State. Following this change, those sentenced to death were transferred to the state prison in Trenton for execution in the electric chair.

My research into this aspect of New Jersey’s criminal justice history continues.

For additional photos, see this album on Facebook

  1. Westfield Architects & Preservation Consultants, Atlantic County Jail Historic Structure Report, (Atlantic County Historical Society, Somers Point, NJ, 2000). Photocopy. ↩︎
  2. “Labriola Hanged,” Atlantic City Evening Union, September 20, 1907 ↩︎

North East Town Lockup: Researching a Unique Structure

Small town lockups are typically simple and unremarkable structures designed to hold lawbreakers temporarily. However, the Town of North East, MD, at the top of the Chesapeake Bay, boasts a unique municipal lockup that stands out from the rest. This two-story brick structure, designed by architect Levi O. Cameron in 1885, features distinctive three-pronged turrets and barred windows, giving it a fortress-like appearance.

town lockup north east md
The Town Lockup in North East, MD.

As a scholar interested in social history and criminal justice, I have always been fascinated by this remarkable edifice. It is uncommon for cost-conscious municipalities to invest in attractive structures for detaining offenders, making the North East lockup a noteworthy exception.

Recently, I embarked on a research project focused on recommending the lockup for inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places. To accomplish this, I began delving into the architectural and social history of the lockup. My investigation led me to the North East Town Hall, where I meticulously examined the old pages of corporate minute books. These records allowed me to trace the evolution of the small jail over time and understand the considerations that went into its construction.

While there are readily available online sources for researching structures, such as newspapers from Chronicling America at the Library of Congress, a deeper investigation into the history of a building usually requires consulting records beyond local papers. Also, this line of inquiry often leads me to explore state, municipal, county, and corporate archives.

In the case of the North East lockup, I spent time at the town hall studying corporate minute books dating from the late 19th to the middle of the 20th century. The town made its archives readily available, and the public records custodians helped me access them.

Researching the history of a small town lockup for placement on the National Register of Historic Places involves thoroughly examining various sources, including local records, archives, and historical documents. By delving into these extended resources, we can uncover valuable insights into these structures’ architectural and social significance, ultimately contributing to their preservation and recognition.

Private Detectives Sought to Solve Mysterious Murders

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, the task of solving murders presented a formidable challenge to law enforcement. Cases frequently hit frustrating dead ends when clues or eyewitnesses were scant. Without the proverbial “smoking gun,” public officials turned to private detectives for assistance. Unlike the overburdened sheriffs with numerous responsibilities, agency men had the luxury of dedicating extensive time to the case–weeks or months.

These detectives brought a unique set of skills and resources to felonies. Most had gained significant experience while investigating violent crimes. This expertise in handling felonies translated into a broader understanding of investigative practices applicable to various types of murders.

Their ability to focus solely on the crime and their knack for operating discreetly also made them invaluable for solving complex homicides. They could deploy undercover operatives to gather information from the community without arousing suspicion, a tactic that proved particularly useful when people were reluctant to share crucial information.

Moreover, private detectives kept extensive records on itinerant criminals. The advent of photography greatly aided their crime-solving work, allowing them to create rogues galleries of mugshots, providing an essential tool for tracking and identifying suspects that public law enforcement lacked.

To encourage the involvement of private detectives, county commissioners usually offered monetary rewards to anyone who could bring the culprits to justice. This financial incentive spurred professional detective agencies to join the hunt for felons or intensify their efforts if the authorities increased rewards, as they rushed to grab a felon before the competition made the arrest. This periodic use of rewards saved local governments the cost of expanding police forces.


Murder of Jennie Richards
A private detective’s story published in the Smyrna Times, Dec. 7, 1892

The tragic murder of Jennie Richards in a secluded area west of Rising Sun, Maryland, in April 1891 serves as a prime example of 19th-century homicide investigations. Despite the collective effort of Cecil County’s law enforcement officials (the sheriff, deputy, coroner, state’s attorney, and constables) and the local community, the perpetrators had vanished into the night. The lawmen had grilled the “usual types” and apprehended several suspects on suspicion of something, but their solid alibis soon freed them.

In contrast to most killings, the Richards investigation immediately received support from railroad detectives. Jennie’s brother-in-law, the Assistant Chief Engineer of the Pennsylvania Railroad, Joseph T. Richards, arrived with a team of railroad officers on the morning of the murder.

Despite the tireless effort of a handful of public officials and agency detectives rounding up the “usual suspects,” it became clear that the case was getting cold. In response, the commissioners offered a significant reward of $1,000 to anyone who could locate the murderers, which the authorities increased to $3,000 (about $102,000 today) in April 1892.1


Private Detectives Take up the Case

This enhanced reward piqued the interest of a Smyrna, Delaware, photographer and Detective, G. W. McLain. Seeing an opportunity for better earnings than his Smyrna gallery, which paid about as well “as a peanut stand in a graveyard,” he joined the investigation. However, the sleuth recognized the competitive nature of the crowded field with the enhanced cash offering.2

From Smyrna, he penned a letter to the Cecil County Commissioners offering his help and was advised that they would welcome his efforts to bring the culprits to justice. The Richards reward was open to all.3

McLain quickly assembled materials for a traveling photography gallery in a canvas tent, allowing him to work in Cecil County or any other location the case might lead him to without raising suspicions. His primary profession of “viewmaking” served as an excellent disguise as he canvassed the territory, offering picture-taking services as an incentive to gain access to homes.

McClain also dispatched a telegram to the city, summoning a lady detective to assist him in Rising Sun. He introduced her as his sister. Like him, she was a woman of many talents and a skilled artist. She seamlessly stepped in, completed the tintypes, and skillfully applied the paintbrush to her works.4

He indeed found the field crowded with private detectives. By the time he pitched his tent in Rising Sun, the Pennsylvania Railroad’s C. G. Ottey and a force of assistant officers, Captain William B. Lyon of the firm of West, Lyon & Smith from Baltimore, Pinkerton Agency men, and many more had spent months tracking down clues.  


Working Undercover

McClain began working quietly and diligently In Northern Cecil County, awaiting an opportunity to gather information. As everything remained silent regarding the murder, he equipped the lady detective with numerous samples and sent her towards Porter’s Bridge, the area of the slaying, to solicit orders.

Later, he dispatched her to Oxford, instructing his assistant to canvass the town and, if possible, lodge with Mrs. Langdon, Jennie’s sister-in-law. When she visited Mrs. Langdon, she was met with a cold reception—the lady refused to view the artworks and seemed suspicious, having been visited by two detectives a few days earlier. When the homeowner questioned the reason for the visit, the undercover agent assured her that she was an artist from McLain & Co, a firm based in Salisbury, MD, now operating in Rising Sun. She then canvassed the entire town, gathering information from Mrs. Langdon’s neighbors.

As his assistant traveled neighborhoods, McClain also explored the Porter’s Grove area under the guise of advertising the photography gallery. After talking to Mr. Whalen and Mr. Reynolds near the Richard’s home, they took him over to the house to take pictures of the outside while also providing an interior tour.


Photographing the Richards House

Ater the gumshoe took pictures, he visited Jennie’s mother, the elderly Mrs. Langdon, at Harrisville, telling her that he was “out making views of houses and had taken Mr. Richards’ house and would present her with one as soon as completed. That was enough to start her talking, McLain noted. “Yes, that is where my dear daughter was killed, poor child,” and her tears ran like rain while she related her sad story.”  McClain “pitted the poor, bereaved mother in her advanced age, and kept asking myself if he should confide his secret mission” to her. But he decided against it. 

McClain & Co. photographers, Smyrna, March 9, 1892, Smyrna Times

Back in the Rising Sun gallery, the photographer developed the negatives and framed pictures of the Richards house, putting them on exhibit. Of course, everyone knew it and had something to narrate about the tragedy, so he took it all in, getting the run of things pretty well. 

After working Rising Sun for “all there was in it,” he left to attend the Woodlawn Camp Meeting on Aug. 9th. With the tent up, the artist hung his “eye-catcher and tongue starter outside, just over the door, so that nearly everyone that passed by” had some remarks, such as “Oh, that is the Richards’ House. There is where the murder was done. That was a pity . . . someone ought to hang for it.”  Some would know considerably more about the affair. Others would shake their heads and walk off, as much as to say “there was a graveyard secret” connected with that killing. Whatever they said, he worked away quietly, listening to the conversation and occasionally asking a few questions.   

That summer, the Cecil County Commissioners withdrew the reward:

Believing that the expenses in the investigation of the Richard Murder Case has assumed such proportions as to become oppressive to the taxpayers and that every reasonable effort has now been made to apprehend the perpetrators of said murder, it is ordered that all rewards be herby withdrawn and no further money be appropriated for the expenses of said investigation.5

As the Delaware gumshoe suspected, solving the seemingly impossible felony required immense effort and skill. He had to rely on his cover and intuition to navigate a territory already covered by many private eyes. Every shadow held a potential suspect, and every whisper a clue waiting to be deciphered or reexamined from his perspective. To work the job, the detective went to great lengths, sometimes even donning disguises beyond that of a viewmaking artist. He also made a two-week trip to Baltimore, acquiring the confidence of a gentleman from the Custom House.


McLain, however, decided to wrap up his work, choosing not to reveal certain “graveyard secrets” he possessed regarding the case. The intelligence gathered in Porter’s Grove and Oxford remained a secret, buried in the “graveyard of untold stories.” 

To the Cecil County authorities, Detective McClain said this: “Fait justitia ruat caelum” (let justice be done though the heavens fall).6

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, before forensic science and professional policing, private detectives were the last hope for solving difficult homicides. Despite their best efforts, many of these crimes remained unsolved, particularly when confessions were not obtained, or private detectives failed to develop information. This last line of defense for the criminal justice system often failed to identify perpetrators.

For More

Murder in the 19th Century: A Look at the HIstory of Investigations in Salem County, NJ

Endnotes
  1. Cecil County Board of Commissioners, Minutes, April 12, 1892, 204.[]
  2. G. W. McdLain, “The Richard Murder; or A Cecil County Mystery,” Smyrna Times, December 7, 1892[]
  3. Letter from C. H. Smith, Clerk to the county commissioners, published in the Smyrna Times[]
  4. G. W. McClain, “The Richards Murder: or A Cecil County Mystery,” Smyrna Times, January 18, 1893.[]
  5. Cecil County Commissioners, Minutes, July 12, 1892[]
  6. C. W. McLain, “The Richards Murder; or a Cecil County Mystery,” Smyrna Times, February 22, 1893.[]

Students’ Research Project Sheds Light on Murder of Educator

During a recent semester, Lisa Hutchings, a student in my African American history class at Wilmington University, embarked on a research project that delved into the remarkable story of Stephen Handy Long and his impact on the education of Black children in Worcester County, MD. However, as she dug into primary and secondary sources, pored over archives materials, and interviewed people, she stumbled upon a distressing revelation. Professor Long, who oversaw African American schools in Worcester County, met a tragic end on the streets of downtown Pocomoke City.1

The Worcester Democrat and the Ledger-Enterprise reported on the murder of the civil rights advocate on Sept. 17, 1921.

Unraveling the events, Lisa discovered that in September 1921, Professor Long intervened in a situation where a white farmer, granted legal guardianship of two Black children, refused to allow them to attend school. Despite his effort to resolve the issue, the “supervisor of Worcester County Colored Schools” was unable to secure the children’s attendance, prompting him to notify the Orphans’ Court. As was common during the post-Civil War era, children of color were often placed under the guardianship of white farmers.


School Supervisor Murdered

After the court took the children, the farmer and his brother held Professor Long responsible for the loss of labor, resulting in a fateful encounter on September 13, 1921. As Professor Long walked home from the Pocomoke City Colored Fair with his twelve-year-old daughter (Jessie), John and William Pilchard confronted him, leading to the educator sustaining two fatal knife wounds. 2

Stephen Handy Long, born in Pocomoke City after the Civil War in 1865, spent his formative years in Boston, Massachusetts. After graduating from Lincoln University in 1893, he returned to the Eastern Shore to pursue a career in teaching. In 1914, he became the first supervisor of colored schools in Worcester County.


Manslaughter Conviction

After the State of Maryland charged John Pilchard with murder, the Baltimore Sun reported that he was the first white man indicted for the first-degree murder of a Black person in Worcester County. Defense lawyers successfully obtained a change of venue, moving the trail to Dorchester County. The daughter’s testimony was critical for the prosecutors as the Pilchards said eight Black men jumped them.3  

When the Dorchester County Jury brought in a verdict of guilt for manslaughter, the panel recommended clemency. The Maryland and Herald on Nov. 29, 1921, stated that the jurors deliberated for three hours and could not agree on a charge of murder in the first degree, the vote standing eight to four for acquittal, so they settled on manslaughter. The judge sentenced Pilchard to three years in the House of Corrections.4

The Baltimore Afro-American editorial noted the irony of the sentencing: Had Pilchard been colored and Long white, there would have been a different story to tell at this trial. “Even now, Cambridge would be asking the governor to set an early day for execution.” 

stephen handy long
In recent decades, efforts have been made to memorialize Stephen H. Long. This is his memorial stone at Mount Zion Methodist Church Cemetery. (Photo Credit: Lisa Hutchings)

Lisa’s research project on Stephen Handy Long’s impact on the education of African American children in Worcester County was a memorable and poignant experience for everyone in the class. Her in-depth scholarship uncovered a tragic revelation about Professor Long’s untimely death due to his advocacy for equal education opportunities for Black children.

As a descendant cousin of the professor, Lisa noted that she knew very little about Stephen Long when she started her investigation. Sharing his life’s story was an honor and privilege she did not take for granted as she learned much about the dedicated educator and his untimely loss, she wrote in the research paper.

The presentation was a reminder of the sacrifices made by those who fought for the rights of Black children to receive an education, and it left a lasting impression on everyone who attended the class. The student-scholar’s dedication to the project and her powerful presentation were a testament to the importance of learning and sharing history to understand and address contemporary issues of inequality and injustice.

The loss of this dedicated educator was a significant blow to the Black community, who were struggling under the oppression of Jim Crow in the 1920s.  Professor Long advocated equality, civil rights, and education for people of color. This was a chilling example of the adversities African American individuals faced in their pursuit of education and equality before the modern civil rights movement.


Researching the Past – A Course Requirement

My classes require students to do applied research projects that involve working with original traces of the past and oral history (when applicable). This approach allows students to better understand historical events and their impact on people’s lives. It also encourages students to explore different perspectives and critically analyze the information they gather. Lisa’s original research project was a prime example of how meaningful and powerful applied research or history labs can be. Through research, the student uncovered important information about a tragic event in history, and this presentation left a lasting impression on everyone who attended

The researcher, Lisa Hutchings, demonstrated an impressive grasp of the era’s intricate historical events, figures, and underlying dynamics around this complicated era. Employing thorough analysis, this scholar expertly researched and crafted the narrative. This well organized, engaging, and emotionally compelling, account is something the members of the class won’t forget. And from the class standpoint, these skills of intellectual inquiry are things they won’t forget as they will carry the applied competencies into their professional careers. 


Visting Pocomoke City

Although this presentation occurred two years ago, it was something I never forget — nor would anyone in the class — so since I was in Somerset and Worcester counties doing fieldwork for another project, I visited the grave where Professor Long was laid to rest and some of the historic spots connected with this civil rights advocate.

Endnotes
  1. Lisa Y. Hutchings, The Legacy of Stephen Handy Long,” Wilmington University Research Paper, Fall 2020[]
  2. Worcester Democrat and the Ledger-Enterprise, (Pocomoke City, MD.) Sept. 17, 1921, 1[]
  3. Baltimore Sun, “To Face Court Today for Death of Negro,” Oct. 24, 1921, 2[]
  4. Maryland and Herald, Nov. 29, 1921[]