Ed Malley and George Cole: hats in hand

Ed Malley (left) and George Cole

(Source)

Despite the fact that their crime had a serious effect on Nevada finances, Ed Malley and George Cole essentially became background figures in their own case. The ease with which they were able to pilfer state funds set the stage for a dramatic confrontation with a longstanding political boss over how Nevada's affairs were managed.

Both Malley and Cole moved to Nevada to pursue the growing mining industry there. Malley was born in Coaldale, Pennsylvania, and came to the state after living for some time in Leadville, Colorado. Cole was a native of Canada, born in the town of Renfrew in the Ontario province on September 9, 1873. He moved with his family to Minneapolis when he was seven years old, and later went west and got a job as a miner in Park City, Utah. He eventually settled in Nevada, becoming chairman of the Democratic Party of Lincoln County. Both Malley and Cole eventually settled in Tonopah, joining the rush of miners to the community following the discovery of a silver lode.

Cole's early success in politics continued, as he was elected as a state assemblyman in 1904 and again in 1912. He pursued mining and hotel work in the interim, then became the state controller in 1914. He held onto the position until his defeat in a re-election bid in 1926, at which point he said he would rejoin the workforce in Clark County. Despite this loss, there was talk that Cole would be named as the Democratic nominee for the 1928 U.S. House of Representatives election.

Malley served as a constable in Tonopah before becoming chief of police in 1907. He was elected as sheriff and assessor of Nye County in 1910. While riding in a vehicle during his campaign for re-election, a shotgun became tangled in some overcoats and went off. Malley was shot point-blank in his right arm, and the limb later had to be amputated. He began serving as state treasurer after he was elected to the post in 1914.

While the men were in office, Nevada politics were strongly influenced by a Reno businessman and Republican named George Wingfield. A former cattle rancher and gambler, Wingfield had moved to the city in 1908 and made his fortune in mining. He was offered a Senate appointment in 1912 following the death of Senator George S. Nixon, but turned it down. Wingfield also owned several banks across the state, holding deposits of public funds and using his influence to build up a bipartisan political machine. Given Nevada's tiny population, the state government operated more like a small town; power was concentrated in a few individuals, and most people in governing positions knew one another.

Suspicions of corruption in the state finances began in the 1927 legislative session, but no investigation materialized. The legislature's joint ways and means committee was reluctant to ask for the funds to look into the matter, and some members were convinced that Malley and Cole were upstanding figures who could not possibly be guilty of malfeasance.

On the evening of April 27, 1927, Malley and Cole visited Wingfield at his home to confess that they had been misusing state funds for several years. Malley said the cash had been taken from state insurance money as well as the treasury to cover losses from investments that did not pan out. The duo had speculated in Tonopah mines as well as the wells of the Nevada Signal Hill Oil Company, but neither endeavor had been profitable. All told, they had lost $516,322.16.

The embezzlement had been aided by H.C. Clapp, a cashier at the Carson Valley Bank. Clapp had issued three fraudulent cashier's checks to cover the losses during audits, showing a receipt of money that was never actually deposited. The largest check came to $392,700. Clapp had also allowed Gilbert Ross, the state bank examiner, to carry overdrafts on his personal account and lost more than $6,000 as a result.

Wingfield, as owner of the Carson Valley Bank, was a central figure in the whole mess. He also owned the Nevada Surety and Bonding Company, which had bonded Malley and Cole for $100,000 each. And he had recently fired Clapp due to poor performance stemming from frequent drinking. Malley and Cole knew that the former cashier was prepared to take revenge by going public with the story. Wingfield, as both the bank owner and bondsman, was in the best position to handle the crisis quietly by covering for the losses.

Malley would later testify that Wingfield and his attorney, George Thatcher, had gone so far as to promise him and Cole immunity for their crime. Indeed, Wingfield worked diligently for nine days to stabilize the financial situation. He sent the vice president of the Carson Valley Bank to San Francisco to raise $500,000 (some accounts say $600,000) and deposited the sum in Nevada. He also quietly withdrew as Malley's bondsman.

Even if Wingfield promised protection for the two officials, his close association with both the state and bank put him in a difficult situation. Unless he wanted to willingly part with half a million dollars of his own money, the revelation of the defalcations would put the onus of replacing the money on either the state or the Carson Valley Bank. By pursuing the prosecution of Malley and Cole, the burden would fall to the state and prevent a potentially ruinous situation at the bank.

Wingfield summoned several state officials, including Governor Fred Balzar, to brief them on the embezzlement. On May 7, he issued a press release detailing the confession he had received from Malley and Cole. The statement was carefully timed, taking place on a Saturday to allow extra time for the courts to open and insurers to be informed. To avoid a run on the bank, Wingfield assured the public that his deposit had ensured the solvency of the deposits in the Carson Valley Bank. "I will personally guarantee the state's losses, and of course we can alleviate any run on the bank by announcing that the funds are available, and there has been no loss to the depositors," he announced. Malley, Cole, and Clapp were arrested on the same day.

Upset at what they considered a betrayal by the man in whom they had placed their trust, Malley and Cole hired one of Wingfield's most well-known enemies to defend them. Patrick McCarran had first gone up against Wingfield when he represented May Caric in a 1906 case against the businessman. Caric claimed that she and Wingfield were in a common law marriage, and she wanted to claim part of his fortune in a divorce; Wingfield won the battle, with the court granting an annulment instead. McCarran had held little influence in the state compared to his nemesis, serving some time as a Nevada State Supreme Court judge but failing in two attempts to be elected to the U.S. Senate in 1916 and 1926. Curiously, McCarran was also the attorney for the Nevada Signal Hill Oil Company, where the officials' investment had failed to produce any dividends.

The Reno Evening Gazette, an anti-Wingfield newspaper, was appalled by the revelation of the crime. It questioned how the embezzlement could go undiscovered for so long and why Malley was bonded for only $100,000 when other financial officers had much higher amounts. "Seemingly there has been an inexcusable amount of looseness in the financial administration of the state when more than one-half million of the people's money could be lifted from the treasury and replaced by paper which may prove worthless," the paper declared.

Malley remained defiant after his arrest. On May 10, he announced that he would refuse to resign. Two days later, he even tried to get Wingfield to honor the fraudulent cashier's checks. Balzar ordered all banks in the state to refuse to honor any state checks from the treasurer, and on May 18 he formally removed Malley from office. The treasurer's position was filled by George B. Russell, a Republican newspaper editor. Even after this ouster, Malley held onto the keys to his office until he and his co-defendants were arraigned on seven charges on May 21.

Clapp pleaded guilty to the charges on June 8 and was quickly sentenced to serve five to 15 years in prison. Meanwhile, negotiations between Wingfield and state officials began in the same month to try to resolve the issue of liability in the lost funds. The talks went nowhere, and the state filed a civil suit against Wingfield to try to recover the money.

Witnesses began to take the stand in the trial of Malley and Cole on August 22. Clapp had agreed to turn state's evidence, and his testimony lasted for five days as McCarran grilled him in an effort to exploit any inconsistencies. The former cashier claimed that he had destroyed many of the cashier's checks used in the transactions, but several thousand checks and deposit slips were still available to help outline the defalcations. Other witnesses claimed that Malley had asked to keep the shortages secret until the end of 1927, when he expected the oil well investments to become profitable enough to cover the losses.

Malley took the stand in his own defense, claiming that Clapp had orchestrated the entire scheme and that Wingfield had falsely promised him immunity. Cole was also called, but answered only two questions before he was excused.

The greater part of McCarran's defense was an attempt to have Wingfield, and the failures of the Nevada state administration as a whole, share in the blame for the embezzlement. He argued that the state had violated its own 1913 law to limit the deposit of public funds more than 75 percent beyond paid-up capital, since the Carson Valley Bank was capitalized at only $50,000 in 1927 while $750,000 in public funds were held there.

McCarran was also critical of the cozy relationship between Wingfield and the state government, noting that the state required no security on cashier's checks from Wingfield-owned banks. He questioned why Jim McKay, who owned several gambling and prostitution establishments in Nevada, was visiting Wingfield when Malley and Cole came to his house. He wondered why Wingfield hadn't confronted Clapp about his drinking earlier, accused the bank owner of having an interest in the failed oil well investment, and suggested that he was merely trying to relieve the liability on the bank so the state would be on the hook for the lost funds.

In his closing argument, McCarran railed against Wingfield's character for three-and-a-half hours. The issue, he argued, was whether Malley and Cole would be imprisoned or whether the Carson Valley Bank would be responsible for paying the $516,322.16. "Can human liberty go into bondage and come out?" he asked. "Can liberty of state go into bondage of gold and come out? If so, free men, where is your blood? I want wealth in this state, but I want liberty more - even if there is not a dollar in the state."

The prosecution simply reminded the jurors that Malley and Cole were on trial, not Wingfield. After only three hours of deliberation on September 10, both men were convicted. One week later, they received the same sentence as Clapp: five to 15 years in prison. Malley was unrepentant, maintaining that he was innocent. Cole offered a more ambiguous statement, saying, "I have made mistakes, as has every man, but I am not ashamed of anything I have ever done."

Historians have described McClellan's attempts to deflect blame from Malley and Cole as a somewhat strained attempt to critique Nevada government as a whole, but they agree that some figures managed to escape suspicion or even questioning at the trial. Ross was never held to account for the money he received on overdrafts. James Scrugham, who governed Nevada from 1923 to 1927, never took the stand to discuss how the majority of the defalcation took place during his years in office. In fact, since Scrugham had gone on to own the Nevada State Journal and the paper was mortgaged to Wingfield, he was able to oversee the publication's wishy-washy editorial stance on how other state officials couldn't be held responsible for failing to keep an eye on Nevada's fiscal matters.

There was still the issue of how to make up for the missing funds. Balzar said that a special legislative session was unnecessary, since he considered that the state could remain solvent until the next scheduled meeting of the legislators in 1929. However, he changed his stance in a November statement declaring that a special session would probably have to take place. The reversal came after Wingfield, excluding his injection of personal funds, said the Carson Valley Bank wouldn't have enough money to cover the losses without state action.

Wingfield also held the upper hand, since he had the option of liquidating the bank. As part owner, doing so would allow him to recover $45,000 (half of what the Carson Valley Bank was capitalized at) and be liable for only $75,000 of the bonds. State officials knew that if Wingfield pursued liquidation, they would lose out on any funds he would offer and be left scrambling to get the rest of Malley's bond from his other bondsmen, most of whom were dead. On December 15, Balzar called a special session of the legislature to meet on January 16, 1928.

The key question of the session came down to how much money Wingfield should pay to cover the defalcation. The businessman had put a great deal of energy into lobbying his position in the intervening weeks, and he said most residents in the state favored a compromise solution. He also argued that the state had been in a position to discover the fraud, not the Carson Valley Bank. Wingfield said he was legally liable for only $123,622.16, or the difference between the shortage and the state warrant held by the bank, and offered to pay this sum.

This amount was rebuffed as the few anti-Wingfield legislators tried to push an amendment that would split responsibility evenly, with both the bank and the state paying 50 percent. The attempt was unsuccessful, and the parties settled on a figure of $154,896.65 to be paid by the Carson Valley Bank. The compromise was approved by the house of representatives on January 31 and by the senate and Balzar the next day. The funds were deposited on February 3 after the deal was approved by the board of compromise and adjustments set up by the legislature.

The solution left a balance of $361,425.51 to be covered by Nevada taxpayers. There was also a tab of $52,000 in indirect costs caused by the special legislative session, including audits and legal fees. A 10-year property tax was imposed to meet these costs.

At first, Wingfield suffered few repercussions from his association with the scandal. He was elected unopposed to the board of regents at the University of Nevada later in the year. Some even praised him for his response to the crisis, saying his actions had prevented a more severe panic and that he had graciously agreed to pay more than he was liable for in the final settlement with the legislature.

However, the affair was the beginning of the end for the political boss. The embezzlement had exposed Wingfield as a behind the scenes power broker in Nevada politics, and newspapers both in Nevada and in nearby states denounced the settlement as letting him off too easily. It didn't help that the decade-long tax was arriving just before the start of the Great Depression.

The scandal also helped McCarran get the political recognition he had long pursued. In the 1932 election, he again ran for the Senate against Republican incumbent Tasker Oddie. The Depression had been underway for three years, and Wingfield had again tried to prop up his banks with personal funds. It was not enough, and the banks were forced to close in the same week as the election. This factor has been credited with giving McClellan the edge he needed in the race, and he narrowly defeated Oddie.

Wingfield was forced into personal bankruptcy in 1935. He was able to regain a more modest fortune with a successful gold and copper strike, but he never again had the same influence in Nevada politics. McCarran, by contrast, developed a political machine of his own and was able to hold onto his Senate seat for another three terms.

The two men ultimately buried the hatchet, working together on issues of common interest such as mining regulations during the 1940s. For McCarran's 78th birthday in 1954, Wingfield wrote, "You are a great American, a great Senator, and a good friend; and may you live long and prosper." As fate would have it, McCarran died a month later. Wingfield, who had been born just eight days after McCarran, lived another five years.

The officials convicted in the embezzlement were all released in May of 1931, after serving the minimum sentence with time off for good behavior. In May of 1935, the state parole board issued full pardons to Malley and Cole to restore their citizenship. Malley pursued a real estate career and was able to resume government work by getting a position in the Federal Emergency Relief Administration. Cole became a dealer at a Lake Tahoe club and later worked for the state highway department.

Cole died in October of 1948 at the age of 75. Malley died 18 years later, in January of 1966, at the age of 87.

Special thanks to Michael Maher, librarian at the Nevada Historical Society, for his help in finding additional information for this article.

Sources: Online Nevada Encyclopedia, "Nevada State Funds Half Million Short; Treasurer Faces Jail" in the Evening News on May 6 1927, "Bank Cashier Found Guilty" in the Spokesman-Review on Jun. 9 1927, "Clapp Denies Guilt in Nevada Scandal" in the Berkeley Daily Gazette on Aug. 24 1927, "Clapp Unshaken in Nevada Fund Probe" in the Berkeley Daily Gazette on Aug. 29 1927, "Nevada Officials Face Prison Term" in the Berkeley Daily Gazette on Sep. 12 1927, "Malley, Cole Given Paroles from Prison" in the Nevada State Journal on May 5 1931, "Cole and Malley Get Pardon and Citizenship" in the Nevada State Journal on May 9 1935, "George Wingfield and Nevada Banking, 1920-1933: Another Look" in the Nevada Historical Society Quarterly in Fall 1992, "The Cole-Malley Scandal: Nevada's Political System Revealed" in the Nevada Historical Society Quarterly in Summer 2007, "Nevada Political Power: Bosses of the Silver State Squared Off in Sensational Trial" in the Reno Gazette-Journal on Jan. 4 2014, Pat McCarran, Political Boss of Nevada by Jerome E. Roberts, The Roots of Reno by Al W. Moe, A Short History of Carson City by Richard Moreno, George Wingfield: Owner and Operator of Nevada by C. Elizabeth Raymond

Orville E. Hodge: high flying lifestyle

Hodge is fingerprinted by Paul Terrill, chief investigator for the Sangamon County Sheriff's Department, following his arrest in July of 1956. Photo credit: chicagoist.com

Like Paul Powell's illicit shoebox fortune and Otto Kerner's tax evasion, the case of Orville E. Hodge is often cited as a major one in the seemingly perpetual financial scandals carried out by Illinois public officials.

Born in Anderson, Illinois, in October of 1904, Hodge moved with his family to Granite City when he was four years old. In his adulthood, he would inherit his father's company, the Hodge Agency, and specialize in realty, insurance, and construction. After serving in the Illinois house of representatives, he was elected as the state's auditor of public accounts. Known as a jovial figure who made friends easily, Hodge was considered a rising star of the Republican Party who had the governor's office in his future.

Starting the auditor role in 1953, Hodge initially met with success. He negotiated a budget for his office that brought an additional $2.5 million to the auditor's office over the previous biennium. In 1955, however, Hodge came before the Illinois legislature with hat in hand. He had spent enough of the budget that it would run out before the end of the term. The legislators approved a $525,000 emergency appropriation to bail him out, trusting that Hodge was a capable official.

The next year, an unraveled financial scheme proved just how wrong this assumption was. Investigative reporter George Thiem, writing for the Chicago Daily News, pursued a tip that Hodge was mismanaging his accounts. Thiem uncovered 15 instances where Hodge had written state warrants, or checks, totaling $108,000 to people or firms. None of those named on the checks ever received a dime. The revelation would earn Thiem a Pulitzer Prize and Hodge a stay in prison. State and federal authorities began investigating his accounts in July of 1956.

The investigation uncovered a chronic pattern of embezzlement that had started in May of 1955. In addition to writing false warrants and state contracts, Hodge had falsified expense reports and set up dummy employees to receive kickbacks from their salaries. Although investigators initially found irregularities amounting to $536,226, the figure began to steadily climb as more and more misconduct was brought to light. Governor William G. Stratton, who at first ordered Hodge to double his $50,000 bond, now urged the auditor to resign. Hodge did so, with Stratton inviting retired University of Illinois comptroller Lloyd Morey to take over the position for the six months remaining in Hodge's term.

Federal investigators soon ordered the arrests of Hodge as well as Edward A. Epping, his former office manager, and Edward A. Hintz, the resigned president of Chicago's Southmoor Bank and Trust. Epping was accused of taking six state checks to the bank, where Hintz cashed them. Hodge was charged with using the assets to purchase a number of luxury items including two private airplanes, four luxury cars, a resort hotel suite in Florida, a home on Lake Springfield, and other real estate and stocks. The total amount of stolen money was uncertain, and indeed varied among reports; most put the figure in the area of $1.5 million while others said it was considerable higher, citing the specific sum of $2,500,008. "Where do they get that $2.5 million?" Hodge himself would later ask in a prison interview. "I was sent here for $650,000 and they're getting that back." One calculation suggested that Hodge had embezzled more than $1 million by depositing phony state warrants in federally insured banks, misappropriated $500,000 by liquidating the funds of closed banks, and acquired another $1 million through illegal expense accounts, expenditures, and fraudulent contracts.

Hodge was charged with both state and federal crimes, since the activity had involved the misappropriation of bank loans insured by the United States. Hodge wrote a 176-page "clean breast" statement, admitting to the wrongdoing and saying he had misappropriated funds both to maintain a high standard of living and to further his aspirations to be governor. He admitted that Epping and Hintz had been involved in the scheme, but denied that they had benefited personally. Hodge also returned $528,000 to the state shortly after the wrongdoing was discovered and vowed to give up his assets to aid the restitution.

In August, just one month after the illegal activity came to light, Hodge pleaded guilty to federal charges of embezzlement, forgery, running a confidence game, and conspiracy to defraud the state. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison, with the stipulation that the term would be cut in half if he made good on a $816,427 restitution. Later in the same month, Hodge was sentenced on state charges that he had embezzled $637,000. The prosecutor, a fellow Republican named George Coutrakon, wanted to make an example out of Hodge by sentencing him to 42 to 45 years in prison. However, Hodge was ultimately ordered to serve 12 to 15 years in prison, concurrent to the federal sentence.

Soon after, Hintz was sentenced to three years in federal prison. In September of 1956, Epping was ordered to serve four to five years behind bars. A policeman, William Lydon, was found guilty of conspiring with Hodge to get false bids on remodeling contracts to the tune of $88,787; a jury convicted him of conspiracy in November of 1957 and fined him $2,000. The final conviction related to Hodge came in January of 1958, when Epping was further convicted on federal charges of forgery, running a confidence game, and embezzlement. He was sentenced the next month to another one to 10 years behind bars.

The court confirmed that Hodge had paid his restitution in 1957, meeting the requirement to reduce the federal sentence. Morey would use his brief time in office to develop a reform program, while his successor Elbert S. Smith continued this reorganization and efforts to get back the money Hodge had stolen. The state would ultimately recover more than $2 million. Hodge served six-and-a-half years of the remaining sentence before Governor Otto Kerner reduced his sentence to 10 years so he would be eligible for parole. He was released at the end of January in 1963.

Nearly broke, Hodge returned to his hometown of Granite City to start working in his sister's hardware store. He later began working as a used car salesman and real estate agent. Hodge died in December of 1986.

Sources: History of the State of Illinois Comptroller Office, "State Auditor to Be Ousted in Shortages" in The Dispatch on Jul. 12 1956, "Governor Tells Illinois Auditor to Get Off Ballot" in the Palm Beach Post on Jul. 12 1956, "Funds Loss Set At $800,000" in the Portsmouth Times on Jul. 19 1956, "Illinois Orders Arrest of Hodge, Two Others" in the Milwaukee Journal on Jul. 21 1956, "Hodge Pleads Innocent in Illinois Fund Scandal" in the Milwaukee Journal on Jul. 26 1956,  "Ex-Official to Give Up All Assets" in the Miami News on Aug. 9 1956, "Hodge Admits Guilt in State Fraud Case" in the St. Petersburg Times on Aug. 14 1956, "Hodge Guilty; Gets 20 Years" in the Milwaukee Journal on Aug. 15 1956, "Illinois Gets Million Plus From Hodge" in the Miami News on Aug. 17 1956, "Auditor Gets 12 Years For Tapping Ill. Till" in the Meriden Record on Aug. 21 1956, "Bankers is Sentenced to 3 Years" in the New York Times on Aug. 25 1956, "Hodge's Office Manager Gets 4 to 5 Years" in the Leiston Evening Journal on Sep. 8 1956, "Hodge's Sentence Cut" in the New York Times on Mar. 5 1957, "Orville Hodge Whimpers Year Enough Time in Jail" in the Lakeland Ledger on Aug. 16 1957, "Policeman in Hodge Case Fined" in the Daytona Beach Morning Herald on Nov. 25 1957, "Jury Convicts Auditor's Aide" in the Spokesman-Review on Jan. 13 1958, "Orville Hodge is Back Home" in the Palm Beach Post on Feb. 1 1963, "Orville Hodge, Auditor Who Robbed State" in the Chicago Tribune on Jan. 1 1987, "Orville Hodge Married Again" in the Milwaukee Journal on Sep. 9 1965, "Lots of Other Illinois Pols Have Found Trouble" in the Carmi Times on Jun. 27 2011, The Gentleman From Illinois: Stories From Forty Years of Elective Public Service by Alan J. Dixon, The Man Who Emptied Death Row: Governor George Ryan and the Politics of Crime by James L. Merriner

Warren T. McCray: signing off

Image from in.gov

Before he entered state government, Warren Terry McCray was known by a royal nickname: the "Hereford Cattle King." A Standard History of Jasper and Newton Counties, Indiana deemed him "the greatest breeder of Hereford cattle in the world." In 1919, news of his exploits made it as far as New Zealand, where the Poverty Bay Herald said that the sale of a five-pound bull raised by McCray earned him the equivalent of 10,000 pounds. It shattered the previous world record for the highest bull sale, which formerly stood at 6,200 pounds. Even after he was elected to office, McCray continued to breed cattle on his 1,600-acre farm in Newton County and win prizes for them. The animals sometimes sold for up to $10,000 apiece.

The farm, coupled with other ventures, made McCray a very successful man. Born in Kentland, Indiana in February of 1865, he finished school at age 15. He went into business for himself after spending some time as a clerk in the Discount and Deposit Bank, which was run by his father. He expanded his interests to include grocery stores and grain elevators, and began community pursuits as well. He joined the board of trustees for the Northern Indiana Hospital for the Insane in 1904 and stayed there until 1912. In that year, he joined the Indiana Board of Agriculture and stayed there for four years. During World War I, he chaired the Food Conservation Committee of Indiana and for two years he served as a trustee of Purdue University.

In 1920, McCray won the Republican nomination for governor. He went on to win the general election, and was sworn into office in January of 1921. According to his National Governor's Association profile, 87 public buildings were launched during his term, along with a budget law affecting state and local finances, a reformatory at Pendleton, a budget law affecting state and local governments, and a two-cent gasoline tax to benefit road maintenance and highway construction.

Early in his term, McCray took an action that may well have placated the labor unions in the state. In October of 1921, he refused a requisition by Republican Governor Ephriam Franklin Morgan of West Virginia to send David Robb of Terre Haute to the state. Robb, an organizer for the United Mine Workers came to Indiana after he and several other union men were given the choice of leaving the state or going to jail due to their violation of Morgan's martial law proclamation. He was also indicted in West Virginia's Mingo County for conspiracy to commit a felonious assault in relation to the murder of a man that May. McCray refused the request on the basis of "disturbed conditions" in West Virginia and his belief that Robb wouldn't get a fair trial there; the United Mine Workers agreed, saying Robb's safety would be in jeopardy.

His reluctance to send a union man into hostile territory did not extend to support from the miners, however. He condemned United Mine Workers leader John L. Lewis as "disloyal," and denounced Socialist head Eugene V. Debs as traitor several times. In July of 1922, he publicly supported the idea of a government takeover of Indiana mines to break a strike and produce enough coal to meet the state's needs. After he followed through on the threat to declare martial law to guard the mines, 4,000 striking miners called a public meeting to demand his impeachment.

McCray's real woes began in 1923. In August, the Discount and Deposit State Bank threw him out as president of the institution. A month later, he admitted at a meeting of creditors that he owed them $2,652,000. They agreed to put his property into trust until he could meet his obligations, and took over holdings valued at $3,323,417.90. Former Republican Governor James P. Goodrich, who contested McCray in 1920, tried to help minimize the meltdown to mitigate any embarrassment to the party. He grew quite upset when McCray's chief political adviser, John Moorman, suggested that Goodrich and Republican President Calvin Coolidge were conspiring to ruin McCray."I spent nearly three months in trying to untangle the governor's affairs and finally raised $350,000 to save him and some of his associates from the most serious personal consequences as a result of his own acts," said Goodrich, "and I deeply resent the efforts of Mr. Moorman or the governor, or anyone else, to reflect upon the good faith of the men responsible for the conduct of the affairs of the party in this state." McCray said the matter was less serious than it seemed. "Boiled down to one fact, you find a farmer, a landowner, who is caught after three disastrous years in the farming business. I could not collect my bills and found myself unable to meet some of my obligations," he said. "I happen to be governor of Indiana, but this is a private matter that has happened to other farmers. The state has not suffered. I do not see that the public should be greatly interested."

In October, the bank collapsed after he was unable to take up $290,000 in notes with his signature. That same month, a grand jury began a probe into his financial transactions at the request of the First National Bank of Marion, which held $22,000 in McCray's notes and was one of 200 creditors backing him up. Three Fort Wayne banks initiated a bankruptcy hearing against him, and in November he admitted that some of the notes he pledged as collateral to the state board of agriculture had no value besides his endorsement. McCray had taken out the notes on the misguided belief that his signature would make the notes good enough for distribution. In the midst of these financial difficulties, the Republican State Committee indicated that he should resign, but he refused. Impeachment was also impossible, since the state legislature was not scheduled to meet again until January of 1925. By that time, McCray would be out of office, and he alone could call an emergency session of the legislature.

On the last day of November, the court walloped McCray with an indictment charging embezzlement, grand larceny, forgery, obtaining money under false pretenses, and issuing false checks. The charges accused him of involving $155,000 of misappropriated state funds in his own financial shortcomings. He refused to resign. "I feel sure that if I had been permitted to appear and present the facts I could have helped the jurors reach a just and correct conclusion," he said. "I ask the public to suspend judgment until I have been given an opportunity to tell my side of the story." A Marion County jury couldn't agree on a conviction in a trial in April of 1924, but two months before he had been federally indicted on 28 counts of mail fraud and violation of banking laws. He tried without success to get an abatement because women were not permitted to serve on the grand jury.

McCray's trial lasted for seven days. The prosecution showed that the governor passed some some $1 million in worthless notes on the banks in Indiana and other nearby states in an attempt to regain his standing. McCray denied any intent to defraud the government, but also testified that he used his political standing to get money from the state board of agriculture and designate banks as state depositories to get loans. It took the jury only 13 minutes to return a guilty verdict on 13 counts of mail fraud. McCray resigned from office on April 29, and Lieutenant Governor Emmett F. Branch took over. The judge told him that McCray was guilty of more felonies than anyone he'd seen in his experience on the bench, saying, "The circumstances are enormously bad and wicked. He has shown an utter disregard for the right. It is my duty to show this man that, no matter if he is governor of Indiana and no matter if he has broad acres, he cannot escape the penalty that is customarily given to every criminal of low estate in this court."

Twenty minutes after leaving office, McCray was sentenced to 10 years in prison and a $10,000 fine. He opted not to appeal, and began his time behind bars in an Atlanta penitentiary. Friends of the disgraced governor began looking for a pardon soon after, basing their effort on McCray's poor health, but they did not meet much support. President Coolidge said he would abide by the rule requiring a prisoner to serve at least a third of their sentence before they were eligible for commutation; the prosecutor and judge had to sign off on such a deal as well. In one curious offer, McCray's friend and former Republican Governor Chase Osborn of Michigan said in January of 1926 that he would be willing to serve the remainder of McCray's sentence in his stead. He offered his skills as a plate printer and remarked, "I have no dependents and I am used to more hardships than a prisoner entails."

McCray left prison in August of 1927 after meeting the one-third mark, having served three years in prison. The release didn't come with a pardon. His friends came to his aid once more, financing the repurchase of his Orchard Lake Farm, which he'd lost after his bankruptcy. He devoted his time to re-establishing his reputation as a famous Hereford breeder.

At about the same time he was freed, the state was conducting another probe due to the accusations of D.C. Stephenson. The Grand Dragon of the state's Ku Klux Klan had been sentenced to life in prison for the murder of a woman, and chose to take down as much of the Indiana government as he could with revelations of just how deep the state's politicians were in the Klan's pockets. The largest target was Republican Governor Ed Jackson, who succeeded Branch and served as secretary of state under McCray. Stephenson charged that Jackson offered McCray $10,000 while he was in office to appoint James E. McDonald, a Klansman, as Marion County prosecutor. When McCray came under investigation for his own malfeasance, Jackson said he could sweeten the deal by offering him immunity from prosecution. McCray refused, instead appointing William H. Remy. "The whole affair teems with the vilest corruption that has come to light in years and will remain forever as a blot on the history of Indiana" the Sanford Herald opined in an editorial.

It wasn't the first time McCray had clashed with the Klan. The mine unions sought to ban participation in the Klan, but several members were still interested. After the Klan started up a membership drive, McCray wrote a letter to the editor of the organization's paper condemning their efforts to control the union. The Klan was unfazed, and Stephenson even made personal appearances at the mines to denounce "new immigrants" as inferior workers and call for immigration restriction.

McCray told reporters that he wanted to simply go back to his family and stay as far away from the Jackson scandal as possible. "I am out of politics for good and all," he declared. By that point, McCray's testimony wasn't really needed since the grand jury had concluded that portion of their proceedings. In September of 1927, Jackson and two associates (former law partner Robert I. Marsh and Marion County Republican boss George V. Coffin) were indicted on charges of bribery conspiracy. At trial, Stephenson confirmed the plot and said that he'd put aside $10,000 from one of his strongboxes if McCray agreed to the bribe. McCray was the star witness, testifying that Jackson had told him he would leave the money in the governor's office desk. As McCray had it, he replied, "Ed, I am amazed that you should make that kind of an offer to me. You evidently don't know me. It begins to look like I've lost my fortune that I've striven for for 35 years. My office is threatened, it looks as if they are threatening my liberty, but I'm not going to lose my self-respect."

Prosecutors also charged that McCray rebuffed a second attempt at a bribe, and that Jackson and Stephenson threatened to obstruct his parole if he gave them away. Jackson claimed that he had made the offer, but without bribery or coercion. In the end, judge Charles M. McCabe determined that since the state did not prove willful concealment of the bribe, there was no way to nullify the statute of limitations which expired two years before the indictment. McCabe was clearly disappointed that the case couldn't proceed, as he dismissed the matter by blasting the "slime and disgrace" of the KKK. Noting that the Klan used their power to threaten McCray in 1923, he said, "There is no more regrettable bit of history in Indiana than the organization and participation in politics of the Ku Klux Klan." Jackson refused widespread calls for his resignation, saying he wouldn't let the "malicious propaganda" affect his administration. He left office in disgrace in January of 1929.

The revelations significantly increased the sympathy for McCray. By appointing Remy, he had put a man in office who would take him to court on the embezzlement charges. Remy would also take on Jackson when those charges came up. In May of 1930, an odd case arose when McCray's former partner, grain broker William Simons, was found dead of a gunshot wound just below the heart and two more to the back of the head. The coroner ruled it a suicide, but family members demanded an investigation into the possibility of a homicide. Later in the year, just shy of Christmas, Republican President Herbert Hoover granted McCray a pardon.

In December of 1938, after about a year of poor health, McCray died of a heart attack at his Kentland home.

Sources: The National Governors Association, "Price For Bull Sets World Record" in the Poverty Bay Herald on May 3 1919, "Refuses Requisition For Mingo Mine Leader" in the New York Times on Oct. 6 1921, "Grand Prize To Missouri-Bred Hereford Bull" in the Nevada Daily Mail on Nov. 16 1921, "Indiana Threatens To Operate Mines" in the New York Times on Jul. 27 1922, "Unions Demand Impeachment Of Gov. McCray For Guarding Indiana Mine With Troops" in the New York Times on Aug. 10 1922, "McCray Estimates Debts At $2,652,000" in the New York Times on Sep. 1 1923, "Political Notes" in Time on Sep. 10 1923, "McCray's Creditors Accept Trust Plan" in the New York Times on Oct. 8 1923,"McCray Probe Still Secret" in the Southeast Missourian on Oct. 12 1923, "McCray Bank Shuts; Asserts Solvency" in the New York Times on Oct. 14 1923, "McCray's Name His Security To State, He Admits" in the Chicago Tribune on Nov. 21 1923, "Governor McCray Will Not Quit Office" in the Nevada Daily Mail on Dec. 1 1923, "Gov. McCray Is To Stay On The Job" in the Southeast Missourian on Dec. 1 1923, "Governor McCray Files Plea" in the Wall Street Journal on Feb. 6 1924, "U.S. Grand Jury Indicts McCray on 28 Counts" in the Chicago Tribune on Feb. 26 1924, "McCray Must Face Other Indictments" in the Christian Science Monitor on Apr. 12 1924, "Governor Of Indiana Put Behind Bars" in the Southeast Missourian on Apr. 29 1924, "10 Years For McCray" in the New York Times on May 1 1924, "McCray Pardon Movement Not Meeting Favor" in the Crawfordsville Review on Feb. 24 1925, "Offers To Serve Friend's Sentence" in the Times Daily on Jan. 5 1926, "McCray To Be Paroled From Penitentiary" in the Sarasota Herald on Aug. 31 1927, "McCray Out of Political Life" in the Sarasota Herald on Sep. 2 1927, "Political Notes: McCray Out" in Time on Sep. 12 1927, "Indiana Ex-Governor Permitted To Testify" in the Pittsburgh Press on Sep. 16 1927, "Problem Of Cleaning Politics" in the Miami News on Sep. 19 1927, "National Affairs: Indiana Scandals" in Time on Sep. 19 1927, "Trial Date Set" in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette on Dec. 6 1927, "Jackson Trial Planned Feb. 7" in the Miami News on Dec. 6 1927, "Stevenson On Witness Stand" in the Southeast Missourian on Feb. 15 1928, "McCray Says $10,000 Was Jackson's Bait" in the New York Times on Feb. 16 1928, "Governor Jackson Acquitted" in the Sarasota Herald on Feb. 17 1928, "Corruption: In Indiana" in Time on Feb. 28 1928, "Ex-Governor Staging Comeback" in the Berkeley Daily Gazette on May 7 1929, "Gun Death Is Puzzle To Police" in the Times Daily on May 20 1930, "President Grants Pardon To McCray" in the Owosso Argus-Press on Dec. 24 1930, "Dies" in the St. Petersburg Times on Dec. 20 1938, Fragile Alliances: Labor and Politics in Evansville Indiana 1919-1955 by Samuel William White, James P. Goodrich: Indiana's "Governor Strangelove" by Benjamin D. Rhodes, A Standard History of Jasper and Newton Counties Indiana by Lewis H. Hamilton and William Darroch

Marshall Tate Polk: almost south of the border

Image from findagrave.com

The conclusion of the attempted flight of Marshall Tate Polk Jr. from the country sounds like it could have inspired a Wild West movie. Running from charges that he'd stolen funds from Tennessee while acting as the state's treasurer, Polk wound up on a train making its way through Texas. The conductor of his sleeping coach happened to recognize him from the notices posted along his likely route. Once Polk got off at a station, the conductor disembarked as well, gathered a companion, and told another person to contact the authorities. The conductor then took off after Polk, who had left with his servant on horseback.

The conductor and his friend gave chase. Somewhere in the Texas scrub, the conductor managed to get the drop on Polk, stepping out from behind a bush to confront him. Both Polk and his servant pulled their revolvers on the intruder, but the conductor remained steadfast. He warned that the surrounding countryside was crawling with rangers. "Put up your guns, or I'll have your heads blown over into Mexico," the man warned. Sufficiently intimidated, both Polk and his servant handed over their weapons. It was a bold maneuver, and one that paid off well. The conductor had been unarmed until the two men surrendered their guns, and he and his companion promptly used the revolvers to hold the two men until the rangers actually arrived.

Most of these details come from a New York Times article featuring the conductor's story, so it is quite possible that the trainman chose to embellish the details. The underlying facts are sound, however. Suspected of embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars in state funds, Polk had been riding the rails through Texas. And he was indeed captured not far from the Rio Grande while fleeing with his servant on horseback.

Marshall Polk, who sometimes went by the abbreviated name M.T. Polk, was also somewhat notable due to his relationship to a former President. Polk's father died about a month before he was born in Morgantown, North Carolina, in May of 1831. His uncle, James Knox Polk, was a U.S. Representative from Tennessee at the time, and he took his nephew under his wing; this elder Polk would go on to be the Governor of Tennessee and eleventh President of the United States.

Marshall Polk attended Georgetown University, and graduated from West Point in 1852. He joined the Confederate army during the Civil War as a captain of artillery, and was seriously wounded at Shiloh. The injuries were bad enough that he had to have a leg amputated, but he remained in the service and was promoted to colonel, serving on the staff of General Leonidas Polk (presumably another relative). After the war, Marshall Polk lived on a farm near Bolivar, Tennessee and published the Bolivar Bulletin. He first entered the political field in 1876 by attending the Democratic National Convention as a delegate, and the next year he began serving the first of three terms as Tennessee state treasurer.

It was later determined that Polk had been embezzling for five of his six years in office. The action most cited after the discovery of this crime was the One Hundred and Three Funding Bill to settle the state debt. Polk was given $600,000 to pay interest on the bill, but left in possession of the money after an injunction was started and the bill declared unconstitutional. It was also mentioned that Polk had another $400,000 under his control when the actions regarding the bill took place. As a customary inspection was about to take place in January of 1883, Polk quietly disappeared from the state. The study found that hundreds of thousands of dollars were missing, mostly due to the lack of caution in the banks where the state funds were deposited. Polk had managed to deposit several checks, despite the fact that they lacked the signature of the state controller. With this lack of oversight, it wasn't difficult for the treasurer to withdraw the funds for his own personal use.

When it became clear that Polk had absconded from the state, the Tennessee house of representatives considered offering a $20,000 reward for his capture. That idea fell through after one legislator said the treasurer had nothing with which to repay the state, and so the reward would only add to the financial burden caused by the embezzlement. Polk's bond was good for $100,000, something of a small amount considering the amount of money he had control over. There had been a proposal in the legislature to increase the bond, but the bill had been stolen from the desk of the state senate clerk the day before it was supposed to go to a final vote. In the wake of the embezzlement, the legislature resolved to seize Polk's assets and thoroughly examine the state's books to find if anyone else was involved in the theft. In the midst of the upheaval, reform proposals come fast and heavy in the legislature. They included suggestions to increase treasurer's bond to $500,000 and have the treasurer make a monthly report to the Governor, controller, and secretary. Another proposal would have the treasurer deposit funds in banks with sufficient bond coverage within three days of receiving them, with the checks countersigned by the Governor and controller and marked to show what they would be used for.

Captain James Fleming, Polk's clerk and bookkeeper, helped investigators determine how the money went missing. One popular suggestion was that Polk had diverted considerable funds to political allies, and newspaper reports anticipated further criminal charges. Despite his cooperation, Fleming was arrested the next year as he was tried to leave the state. He was accused of making false entries totaling $40,000 on behalf of Polk, but the case faded from the public eye soon after. It seems no other potential co-conspirators, estimated to number about half a dozen when the scandal first broke, were charged. "Throughout the city in circles where Mr. Polk was known and liked for his generosity, there is universal regret at his disgrace which has come upon him, and perhaps no man's fall was ever more generally regretted," the New York Times declared.

Polk's point of destination was more obvious than that of the Kentucky treasurer who shared one of his names and would take flight five years later. Mexico not only contained a silver mine owned by the treasurer, but also had no extradition policy with the United States. Warrants of arrest were sent to cities along his probable escape route. Polk's wooden leg would provide a ready clue for law enforcement authorities. Five days after his departure on January 2, it was announced that he had been arrested in San Antonio, Texas by a Pinkerton detective.

Much to the horror of authorities and citizens in Tennessee, Polk got away again. The one-legged man claimed he was not Polk, but his cover story wasn't exactly convincing. He gave his name as "Tate" and said he was simply a wealthy man going to look over his mining interests. Outgoing Democratic Texas Governor Oran M. Roberts said he had no authority to hold Polk unless someone made a charge against him while under oath, and the detective said he had no authority to hold the man. When Polk was finally arrested again, about 18 miles shy of the Rio Grande, the detaining marshal suggested that the treasurer had paid off the Pinkerton detective. At the time of his arrest, Polk had several state checks with him.

As Polk was being returned to Nashville, the legislature appointed attorney Atha Thomas as a replacement on the 22nd ballot. Polk told reporters on his arrival that several reports about his journey were false, including allegations that he had been drinking heavily the entire time. He also seems to have tripped over his words, saying both that he was taking a routine trip to Mexico to check up on the mine and that he intended to raise the defaulted money in order to repay the state in full. The same month that saw Polk's defalcation revealed and his subsequent dash for the border also brought his indictment, which charged that he acquired $484,000 from the state treasury through embezzlement and larceny.

An investigation determined that by 1878, about a year into his job, Polk was defaulting $20,000 to $40,000. By April of 1882, the amount was up to $216,520. The probe blasted the banks involved in the case, since they had extended false credit to Polk. In doing so, committee members determined, the banks had failed to stop the embezzlement when they could have staunched the loss at only $200,000. The banks had honored several checks not countersigned by the state controller, and Polk had distributed the money in several ventures. These included $50,000 for the silver mine, $10,000 to the Nashville American publishing company, and investments in North Carolina lumber and Alabama iron. He also loaned money to Democratic politicians.

Fortunately, Polk's theft was softened by both the attachments against his property and $150,000 which was legitimately owed to him by various people. In February of 1883, his friends proposed a payment schedule to free Polk and the state from debt, but it came to naught. The next month, however, the legislature passed an act allowing settlement. It said Polk could pay $100,000 on genuine bonds and another $150,000 on internal improvement bonds. When paid, the sureties against his property would be relieved. The act specifically stated that the settlement would not absolve him from criminal prosecution. By late June, Polk's friends had paid $75,000 toward the settlement, and there were rumors that the prosecution could be dropped. However, Polk had been arrested again only the month before. He had been granted release due to health reasons, but a $20,000 bond he had given was found to be insufficient and he was suspected of making another run for it.

Polk's trial began in June of 1883. The case was well-known enough that over a thousand people were rejected for jury duty, since they knew all about the matter. A panel was finally assembled from 12 illiterate country bumpkins. An Iowa newspaper, the Carroll Herald, clearly clearly took exception to the claim that an intelligent body had been chosen. "Tennessee has about as much reason to be proud of this phenomenal jury as of the criminal it is to try," the article sniffed. It didn't matter much in the end, as the entire jury was dismissed and a new one assembled before the trial was through. There were lingering concerns about the ability of the jurors to fairly hear the case, with one member in particular having been employed by the widow of former President Polk.

Defense attorneys argued that Polk was only guilty of "default of pay." They said large deficits against the treasurer were common enough, and could be explained through legal reasons consistent with the treasurer's duties. They added that $50,000 had already been put into the state via sureties, with another $10,000 on the way and significant sums available through the sale of the silver mine and lumber interests. The lawyers said the jurors needed to give the ex-treasurer a chance to make good the defalcation. "If he has got that money in his pocket, you can't send him to prison without first giving him a chance to pay it," they said. "He cannot be accused of refusing to pay when no one has demanded of him to pay." The jury agreed with the prosecution's assessment that Polk's actions were embezzlement through and through. He was found guilty in July, and sentenced to serve 20 years in prison with a fine equal to the amount stolen.

In February of 1884, the New York Times reported that his sentence was only 13 years; this may have been a result of an appeal or an error on the paper's part. It added that his mining interests in Mexico had been sold for $2 million, and that his health was very poor. Two days after the article was published, with an appeal set to go before the Supreme Court, Polk died of heart disease in Bolivar, Tennessee. Even this latest development was in doubt, at least in some circles. In 1887, a report claimed that Polk may have faked his death. An Alabama citizen returned from Mexico, saying he had met Polk there. The item apparently did not gain much credibility, and it was not considered any further.

Sources: The Political Graveyard, "A Deficit In Tennessee" in the New York Times on Jan. 6 1883, "Empty Vaults" in the Aurora Daily News on Jan. 6 1883, "Polk Still A Fugitive" in the New York Times on Jan. 7 1883, "Treasurer Polk Arrested" in the New York Times on Jan. 8 1883, "Treasurer Polk Escapes" in the New York Times on Jan. 9 1883, "Treasurer Polk Recaptured" in the New York Times on Jan. 10 1883, "Treasurer Polk's Recapture" in the New York Times on Jan. 13 1883, "Some Of Polk's Methods" in the New York Times on Jan. 13 1883, "Ex-Treasurer Polk Indicted" in the Reading Eagle on Jan. 14 1883, "How The Conductor Captured Polk" in the New York Times on Jan. 15 1883, "Ex-Treasurer Polk's Friends" in the New York Times on Feb. 22 1883, "Settling With Polk" in the New York Times on Mar. 24 1883, "M.T. Polk Again In Jail" in the New York Times on May 4 1883, "Polk's Case To Be Called" in the New York Times on Jun. 25 1883, "Marsh T. Polk On Trial" in the New York Times on Jun. 27 1883, "A New Jury To Try Polk" in the New York Times on Jul. 4 1883, "Polk On Trial" in the New York Times on Jul. 16 1883, "The Polk Trial" in the New York Times on Jul. 22 1883, "Was It A Farce?" in the New York Times on Jul. 23 1883, untitled brief in the Carroll Herald on Jul. 25 1883, "Ex-Treasurer Polk, Of Tennessee" in the New York Times on Feb. 27 1884, "Death of Ex-Treasurer Polk" in the New York Times on Mar. 1 1884, "Mr. Polk Is Living" in the Meriden Daily Republican on Sep. 6 1887, The Banker's Magazine and Statistical Register Volume 37, James K. Polk: A Biographical Companion by Mark Eaton Byrnes

Harold G. Hoffman: laughing all the way to the bank

Hoffman leaves the funeral of Ellis Parker in 1940. Image from pro.corbis.com.

Late in the evening on October 17, 1935, Bruno Hauptmann received a surprise visit in his prison cell. Eight days before, the New Jersey Court of Errors and Appeals had affirmed the conviction of the Bronx carpenter and German immigrant in the "Crime of the Century." Sentenced to die, Hauptmann must have been reassured to see that his visitor was someone who could help save him: Harold Giles Hoffman, the Republican Governor of New Jersey. For over an hour, Hauptmann talked with the Governor and maintained his innocence in the crime: the kidnapping of Charles Lindbergh Jr., the infant son of famed aviator Charles Lindbergh, from his East Amwell home in 1932 and the child's subsequent murder.

Hoffman's belated involvement in the case has gained more attention than the indisputably criminal actions he admitted to later in his life. Hoffman had won the 1934 gubernatorial election, becoming the youngest governor of the state at 38 years old, and arrived in the office in the midst of Hauptmann's trial. As governor, he did not have the sole authority to grant clemency to condemned prisoners. Rather, the state had an eight-member court of pardons consisting of the governor and seven judges; a majority vote was needed to approve a pardon, and the governor had to be included in that bloc for it to go forward. When his meeting with Hauptmann became public in December of 1935, Hoffman said he was seeking to encourage the other members of the court to visit Hauptmann as well as part of their considerations regarding further action in the matter.

Hoffman also announced that Ellis Parker, a Burlington County detective who had been put on the case by the previous governor, Democrat A. Harry Moore, would be taking another look at the evidence. Parker was of the opinion that Hauptmann was innocent, but Hoffman claimed to have a different opinion. He said that while the courts had already determined that Hauptmann was guilty of the kidnap-murder, he did not believe the crime could have been carried out by only one person. At the same time, Hoffman levied criticism against key figures in the case. He charged that police superintendent H. Norman Schwarzkopf had mishandled the original investigation, while attorney general David T. Wilentz conducted a biased prosecution. On December 22 of 1935, the same day Hauptmann appealed for clemency to the court of pardons, Lindbergh and his family secretly left the country to make a home in England. The decision was probably motivated mostly by threats made against Lindbergh's other son, but the Associated Press reported that friends of the family were also dismayed by Hoffman's visit to Hauptmann and statements suggesting that the entire drama had not been unraveled. As far as Lindbergh was concerned, Hauptmann's conviction should have closed the case.

While the Lindbergh case has spurred plenty of arguments and theories about whether justice was done and Hauptmann was the person to blame, Hoffman's actions on behalf of such a notorious character soon made him extremely unpopular. When he granted Hauptmann a 30-day reprieve from the electric chair in January of 1936, there were cries for his impeachment. Hoffman defended the action, saying he "share[d] with hundreds of our people the doubt as to the value of the evidence that placed [Hauptmann] in the Lindbergh nursery on the night of the crime." At the end of month, he ordered the state police to reopen investigation, saying there was "abundant evidence that other persons participated in the crime."

An even stranger twist occurred when the pardons court received copies of a confession signed by Paul H. Wendel, a disbarred Trenton lawyer. Wendel later denied confessing to the kidnap-murder, saying it had been extracted by torture. In addition, he claimed Parker had encouraged him to sign the document because it would lead to a financial windfall and Hoffman would ensure that he would escape punishment. Hoffman denied having any knowledge of Wendel's confession, but later admitted that he'd been informed about it. Time reported that Hoffman also fought to reduce Hauptmann's sentence to life imprisonment during a closed session, but by spring of 1936 Hoffman had said no more help would be forthcoming. On April 3, Hauptmann was executed.

The governor's actions raised questions as to whether he was simply playing politics with the infamous case. It was suggested that his criticism of Schwartzkopf aimed to replace the Republican police commissioner with one of his own appointees, while also trying to discredit the Democratic attorney general. In doing so, critics posited, Hoffman would have been able to elevate his own standing in the Republican Party and make a strong bid for Vice President at the 1936 Republican National Convention. If his actions had led to Hauptmann being found innocent or another perpetrator being arrested, he may well have been hailed as a hero.

Instead, Hoffman was blasted in the press and by members of the state government. A normally mundane selection process for four New Jersey delegates-at-large to the Republican National Convention was followed closely when former congressman Franklin William Fort challenged Hoffman for one of the spaces. With the selection process taking place not long after Hauptmann's execution, Fort charged that Hoffman was receiving support from Jersey City mayor and Democratic boss Frank Hague. However, Fort focused most of his attention on Hoffman's handling of the Hauptmann matter. "No man has done more in my memory to attempt to break down the fundamental American respect for the power and dignity of our courts of justice," he declared.

Hoffman was able to defeat Fort to become a delegate, but received the lowest number of votes of the four people selected, dashing any hopes of getting onto a national ticket. The whole affair had a few notable epilogues. Attending a formal dinner opening for the National Exhibition of American Art in New York City, Hoffman didn't much like whatever Hearst reporter Lou Wedemar was saying about the governor's political future; Hoffman responded by cold-clocking the man, whom he outweighed by 80 pounds. Hoffman later wrote a series of articles on the case for Liberty magazine; among the assertions he made was that the corpse that was found was not positively identified as Lindbergh's son. In 1985, a total of 23,633 documents related to the case, including the Lindberghs' original statements to police, were found in the garage of Hoffman's former home; Hoffman had taken them for review in his own investigation and never brought them back. The discovery prompted Hauptmann's widow to sue the state for wrongful death, arguing that the documents revealed such miscarriages of justice as handwriting experts changing their opinion on whether Hauptmann had written a ransom note after talking to police and an autopsy performed by an intoxicated coroner. State officials denied the claim, saying that the documents actually reinforced Hauptmann's conviction.

Born in South Amboy, New Jersey in February of 1896, Hoffman began working as a sports reporter when he was only 12 years old. He kept up the job through his graduation from the South Amboy High School in 1913, eventually becoming sports editor for the Perth Amboy Evening Times and freelancer for the New York Times. After serving with the Army in World War I and attaining the rank of captain, Hoffman returned to his home state to become the treasurer of the South Amboy Trust Company. He later became vice-president of the bank and remained active with the organization until 1942. Hoffman also dabbled in real estate, helping found the Hoffman-Lehrer Real Estate Corporation and serving as director of the Investor Building and Loan Association.

Hoffman's first entry into politics came in 1920, only one year after he began working with the South Amboy Trust Company, when he was chosen to be the city's treasurer. He left the post five years and two terms in the New Jersey house of assembly later, when he was chosen to be mayor of South Amboy. Hoffman also worked as a secretary to Morgan F. Larson, future governor of the state, when Larson was president of the state senate. After being elected to the House of Representatives in 1926 and 1928, Hoffman was appointed motor vehicle commissioner of New Jersey in a 59-16 vote of the state legislature. The decision came in February of 1930, and Hoffman did double duty as a congressman and commissioner until his term in the national office expired in 1931.

As motor vehicle commissioner, Hoffman became an early opponent of drunk driving. In August of 1930, he told the magistrate judges in the state to end the practices of suspending sentences for driving while intoxicated cases and allowing such offenders to pay their fines on an installment plan. Hoffman held the post until he was elected governor of New Jersey in 1934. In this race, he easily won the Republican nomination, gathering more votes than the other three contestants combined, and defeated Democrat William L. Dill (the former motor vehicle commissioner) in the general election. As governor, Hoffman remained concerned about traffic safety. In December of 1935, in the midst of the controversy over his involvement in the Hauptmann case, Hoffman wrote an article entitled "Death After Dark." He said 20,000 of the 36,000 motor vehicle accidents in the prior year had occurred at night, with drivers going too fast and having too slow of a reaction time. "As a nation, we have failed to grasp the fact that as the sun goes down, so must our speed," he said. "We are simply driving too fast for our eyes."

Hoffman was a large, jovial man who loved to play the clown. He was not above dressing up in comically oversize pants or rigging up office telephones to spray unsuspecting callers with water. Over the course of his career, he put together a collection of hundreds of lucky elephant statues. Hoffman's temper could sometimes get the better of him, though. In addition to the reporter he punched out, he once tussled with a former prizefighter in Trenton.

Hoffman's intervention in the Hauptmann case largely overshadowed his other actions during his four years in office, but his other major initiative also proved unpopular. With the Great Depression still hitting the country hard, half a million residents were putting a heavy stress on the state relief program. In order to keep the program funded, Hoffman proposed a two percent tax increase on retail sales. The tax was pushed through the legislature, but proved unpopular with the majority of the Republican Party. The conservative Clean Government Group charged that support for the bill had been purchased, with 20 Hague Democrats in the legislature voting in favor of the measure after the governor promised Hague hundreds of patronage jobs. After only 117 days, the tax was overturned. The only other instance in which Hoffman received major attention during his time as governor was a near-death experience on the Fourth of July in 1937. While reviewing a deep-sea fishing fleet, an explosion in the engine room set fire to his yacht. Hoffman and the other 27 passengers were rescued by the Coast Guard.

New Jersey law prevented Hoffman from running for a second term, so in the waning days of his administration he created the New Jersey Unemployment Compensation Commission, whose friendly commissioners ushered him in as executive director. He tried again for the GOP nomination for governor in 1940, without success. He continued to serve as the unemployment commissioner until June of 1942, when he was granted military leave to return to the Army. He served overseas as a major in the Transportation Corps, and was discharged four years later as a colonel. Even during the war, Hoffman couldn't escape some of the old charges against him. In 1943, while in Trenton, he admitted that he had recommended friends for state jobs while governor, but did not consider that there had been any wrongdoing because he had not broken any laws to do so.

After returning from his service, Hoffman tried unsuccessfully for the 1946 gubernatorial nomination and resumed his post as executive director of the unemployment commission. He was later appointed by Republican Governor Alfred E. Driscoll to be director of the newly established Division of Employment Services. In the first hint of Hoffman's future troubles, there were suspicions in 1949 that a brokerage firm Hoffman had recommended had profited unfairly from bond sales to the state. He also admitted to seeking the political support of racketeer Longie Zwillman during the 1946 primaries.

In March of 1954, Democratic Governor Robert Meyner suspended Hoffman due to the discovery of financial irregularities within his department. As the investigation proceeded, it found that Hoffman had rigged bids to benefit friends, signed illegal contracts overpaying for state office space, and other errors suggesting embezzlement. In May, Hoffman gave a letter to his daughter, Ada, containing instructions to not open it until after his death. The timing was fortuitous; Hoffman passed away the next month after suffering a heart attack while in New York City.

When Ada opened the letter, she was so upset about its contents that she ended up destroying it. Before doing so, however, she had shown it to two of her father's friends, including attorney Harry Green, who urged her to reconstruct it and make it public. Ada did so, giving as a reason the assertion that Meyner and the Democratic administration had broken their promise to treat the case quietly after Hoffman's death and were "dancing on his grave." While Ada's entire recollection is only as accurate as her memory, she fired back that Hoffman had accused Meyner of complicity in the same rental-purchasing agreement with which her father had been associated.

More serious, however, was Hoffman's deathbed admission that he had stolen state funds throughout his career. He wrote that he went into debt after his 1926 congressional campaign when future Senator Hamilton Fish Kean reneged on a promise to pay off $17,000 in expenses and only gave him $2,500. With other costs mounting from keeping houses in New Jersey and the capital (and, as some have suggested, maintaining a lifestyle including lavish parties and bootleg liquor), Hoffman began drawing on inactive accounts at the South Amboy Trust Company. To cover those shortages, he had stolen $300,000 in state funds. Further investigation determined that Hoffman had elaborately juggled $15,801,197 between different state funds to make sure that theft wasn't noticeable. Hoffman said that a state official, deceased by that time, had discovered the wrongdoing and extorted $150,000 in exchange for keeping quiet; he maintained that but for the blackmail, he would have been able to repay the debt.

Hoffman declared, rather falsely, that no one had been hurt as a result of his theft of taxpayer money. He also said the awarding of jobs to friends was the result of "an almost uncontrollable urge to help other people." He urged Ada not to let her son enter the field of politics. "It is a lousy game," Hoffman complained. "In order to be elected, you must necessarily accept favors from a large number of people. If you attempt to repay them after being elected to office, it becomes wrongdoing. If you don't, you are an ingrate." Ada also recalled that the letter had a personal apology to his family. "It is a sad heritage I leave to Mother, to Hope, and to you," he said, "but I pray it may somewhat be softened by the knowledge that I do love you all so much."

Investigators confirmed the theft and also revealed lesser instances of misconduct. Hoffman was accused of depositing $3,427,000 without interest into the Trenton Trust Company, a bank run by a friend, an action that allowed the bank to earn $300,000 in five years; the bank returned the favor by putting $150,000 into a non-interest account for Hoffman at the South Amboy Trust Company. It was also alleged that Hoffman awarded one state employee $1,000 for overtime he never performed and unfairly gave 50 companies favorably low unemployment insurance rates.

Hoffman was beyond the reach of the law, but the scandal resulted in four of his aides being suspended and a fifth one resigning. His family promised to repay the stolen money, though it is unclear how successful they were in this venture. One year after the scandal, the state sued the South Amboy Trust Company for the stolen $300,000 plus interest; the suit was settled in 1958 for $176,000. As a more lasting result, the embezzlement resulted in stricter audits on state agencies to prevent such a crime from happening again.

Sources: The Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, The New Jersey State Library, "Hoffman Elected To Succeed Dill" in the New York Times on Feb. 5 1930, "Hoffman Will Hold Two Public Posts" in the New York Times on Mar. 29 1930, "Asks Drastic Curb On Drunk Driving" in the New York Times on Aug. 27 1930, "Governor Signs Repeal Soon After Passage By Legislature" in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette on Oct. 26 1935, "Noted Sleuth Says Bruno Is Innocent" in the Evening Independent on Dec. 6 1935, "Death After Dark" in the Brownsville Times on Dec. 12 1935, "Hauptmann Denies 'Doubt Of Guilt'" in the New York Times on Dec. 19 1935, "Kidnap Threats Make Lindbergh Go To England" in the Spokane Daily Chronicle on Dec. 23 1935, "Jersey Court Unique Body" in the Bend Bulletin on Dec. 23 1935, "Reprieve Hint False, Bruno Told In Cell" in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette on Dec. 27 1935, "Crime: Hoffman To Hauptmann" in Time on Jan. 27 1936, "Gov. Hoffman Orders Police To Resume Probe Of Evidence In Lindbergh Kidnaping Case" in the Daily Illini on Jan. 31 1936, "Kidnaping Probe Meets Turndown By Legislature" in the Evening Independent on Apr. 7 1936, "Political Notes: The Hoffman Case" in Time on Apr. 13 1936, "New Jersey: Hoffman v. Fort" in Time on Jun. 1 1936, "People" in Time on Jul. 12 1937, "Hoffman Defends Patronage Action" in the New York Times on Dec. 22 1943, "Hoffman To Direct UCC" in the New York Times on Jun. 8 1946, "Hoffman Defends Record In Office" in the Eugene Register-Guard on Jun. 25 1954, "A Death Divulges A Life Of Deception" in Life on Jun. 28 1954, "Joker's Heritage" in Time on Jun. 28 1954, "Millions Juggled In Hoffman Theft" in the New York Times on Jul. 30 1954, "Jersey Sues Bank On Hoffman Fund" in the New York Times on Feb. 11 1955, "Jersey Settles Hoffman Claim" in the New York Times on Jul. 3 1958, "Wife Says Man 'Framed' In Lindbergh Case" in the Eugene Register-Guard on Oct. 23 1985, Encyclopedia of New Jersey edited by Maxine N. Lurie and Marc Mappen, Notorious New Jersey: 100 True Tales of Murders and Mobsters, Scandals and Scoundrels by Jon Blackwell, The Lindbergh Case by Jim Fisher, New Jersey: A History by Thomas J. Fleming

Stevenson Archer: defaulted defalcation

Image from comp.state.md.us

Along with a plea of guilty to embezzlement, Stevenson Archer submitted a written statement to the court in 1890 that sought to put the crime in context. Though the note may have given some reassurance as to the moral character of Maryland's treasurer, it might also have dashed any hopes that the state would recover the funds. "No part of the State's money or securities was ever used by me in gambling, stock speculation, or for political purposes;" Archer wrote, "nor have I at this time one dollar left."

Born near Churchville, Maryland in 1827, Archer was the third generation member of a well-known political family. Both his grandfather, John Archer, and his father, Stevenson Archer Sr., served in the state legislature and in the House of Representatives. John Archer fought in the Revolutionary War, and Stevenson Archer Sr. was also a judge in the state's supreme court and court of appeals.

Archer attended the Bel Air Academy and, following in his father's footsteps, attended Princeton University. He graduated in 1848, the same year his father died, and was admitted to the bar in 1850. Continuing in the well-worn path his family had set, Archer was elected as a Democrat to the state's house of delegates in 1854 and, in 1866, to the House of Representatives. He won another three elections to retain that seat, but failed to earn his party's nomination in 1874. A review of Princeton alumni reported that Archer was also a special judge in Cecil County in 1867.

After leaving the House, Archer returned to legal work in Bel Air, Maryland, but later became chairman of the state Democratic Party. He returned to public office in 1886, when he was elected treasurer of Maryland. He was re-elected in 1888, and by that time oversight of his position was becoming more lax. State law held that Archer was to have taken an oath and given a bond after each election. He did so after his first election, but not after the 1888 election. It wasn't until 1889 that he gave a $200,000 bond.

In March of 1890, Democratic Governor Elihu Jackson surprised the state legislature with an announcement: the state auditor, Jackson said, had determined that Archer had misapplied public securities. An investigative committee was formed and found that $127,000 of $572,000 in funds that were supposed to have been deposited by Archer in Baltimore banks were missing. The committee later finalized the stolen amount at $132,401.25.

The main transaction in question was Archer's purchase of railroad bonds for the state in 1889 amounting to a $473,000 sinking fund with a $20,000 premium. The committee found that out of the 140 bonds in this sale, Archer had kept 33 for personal use, with four more unaccounted for that may have also been kept by the treasurer. The exact use that Archer put the funds to is unclear, though it was determined that he had not used the money for political purposes, as had been suspected at first. The New York Times reported that it was thought that he may have been using the money to pay deficiencies on trust estates and hoping to make up for the theft with speculations, which failed. Elihu S. Riley says in A History of the General Assembly of Maryland that legislators felt Archer fell victim to temptations to use state money to pay off a private debt of about $100,000.

The incident brought criticism to Governor Jackson for his failure to oversee the oaths and bonds of the treasurer's office. The legislature was accused of being too lenient in their investigation and letting important witnesses off too easily. The New York Times said Archer was not likely to get a prison sentence in the matter, since "the law is so vaguely drawn that he can escape through loopholes." Though the comment held some truth, it later turned out to be a very poor estimate.

Archer, for his part, continued to enjoy strong support despite the incident. Prior to the revelation of the theft, state comptroller L. Victor Baughman was resolute in his belief that the scandal should be made public, but said he would offer to put $25,000 toward the defalcation; Democrat Thomas M. Lanahan said he would be willing to give $10,000. Though an auction was held to sell off Archer's personal property, neighbors bought up the items and refused to take them away. "His humiliation was a State sorrow," writes Riley. "His gentleness, his courtesy, his everpresent kindheartedness had made him invulnerable to enmity; foes he had none, friends were legion."

It wasn't an easy time for Archer, however. He tried unsuccessfully to commit suicide, and also offered his resignation to Jackson, who refused to accept it. In April of 1890, Archer was charged with embezzlement and his arrest ordered. When he did not show up in court, instead sending a letter saying his physical condition prevented his appearance, he was removed from office and replaced by Edwin H. Brown, a lawyer and brother of a state senator. Archer also vacated his chairmanship of the state Democratic Party.

It seems that the Times was accurate in saying that Archer would try to escape through loopholes, as his lawyers argued that the statute on embezzlement did not cover misappropriation by the treasurer. There was also the question of whether his first bond could pay off the money stolen in his second term, or if the later bond could be used if the theft occurred before it was given. In July, the state's supreme court ruled that the statute was broad enough to try Archer on the charge. Instead, he opted to plead guilty and was sentenced to five years in prison.

The embezzlement proved a heavy blow for the state, as it didn't get much of the money back. In December of 1890, the court ordered Archer's bondsmen liable to reimburse the state for the stolen money. After a legal battle, during which it was argued that paying the full amount would ruin the bondsmen, they were ordered to pay $60,000. However, also citing the possible ruination of the bondsmen, the legislature passed a bill in March of 1892 that had the state pick up $37,000 of that amount. The legislature also passed a bill not long after the theft became known that drastically increased protections of the state funds and securities. The treasurer was no longer allowed to visit the vaults alone, but had to be accompanied by the comptroller. Each was to have a key, and both would be needed to access the vaults; in addition, they were both to record in separate public records the amount of the securities in the vaults.

In 1892, an effort to secure a pardon for Archer due to his failing health was underway. After being given what the New York Times called "one of the strongest [petitions] ever presented to the Executive" 1894, Democratic Governor Frank Brown pardoned Archer. The action shaved a year off the former treasurer's sentence, but Archer's poor health continued for the next several years. In 1898, he died after a year of confinement in a Baltimore hospital.

Sources: The Political Graveyard, The Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, "State Treasurer Archer Removed" in the New York Times on April 16 1890, "Treasurer Archer's Crime" in the New York Times on Jun. 6 1890, "The Sureties Responsible" in the New York Times on Dec. 30 1890, "Stevenson Archer's Bondsmen" in the New York Times on Mar. 23 1892, "A Bold Lobby Defeated" in the New York Times on Apr. 4 1892, "Seeking Archer's Pardon" in the New York Times on Dec. 16 1892, "Treasurer Archer Pardoned" in the New York Times on May 10 1894, "Stevenson Archer Dead" in the New York Times on Aug. 3 1898, Appletons' Annual Cyclopaedia and Register of Important Events of the Year 1890, A History of the General Assembly of Maryland 1625-1904 by Elihu S. Riley, General Catalogue of Princeton University 1746-1906, Reports of Cases Argued and Determined in the Court of Appeals of Maryland by J. Shaaff Stockett

John H. Mitchell: scandal smorgasbord

Image from bioguide.congress.gov

In the years following the Civil War, the United States began to fully capitalize on its resources and entered into a period of wealthy industrialists and excess. Humorist Mark Twain referred to the time, marked in large part by corrupt government officials, as "The Gilded Age." John Hipple Mitchell, a United States Senator throughout this period, is a good example of this age; it seems there was hardly any point during his career that wasn't touched by political turmoil and scandal.

Mitchell was born John Mitchell Hipple in Washington County, Pennsylvania in 1835. After graduating from the Witherspoon Institute, he worked as a teacher before being admitted to the bar in 1857. Two years later, he departed for California, staying only briefly in that state before moving up the coast to Portland, Oregon. Once there, Mitchell started practicing law again, albeit under the name John Hipple Mitchell.

Mitchell's rapid change of fortunes continued. After only two years in Oregon, he was elected to the state senate as a Republican in 1862. He served until 1866, and was named the senate president in 1864. The state legislature was charged with making appointments to the U.S. Senate in those days, and Mitchell missed the 1866 nomination by one vote. When the nomination came around again in 1872, Mitchell was successful in getting it.

The first accusations of political corruption against Mitchell involved his association with Ben Holladay, a transportation magnate whose interests had evolved along with the industry to include stagecoaches, steamships, and railroads. Mitchell was a legal advisor to Holladay, and supposedly turned down a $15,000 offer from the man during the 1872 Senate race to allow Holladay to capture the spot. Despite this action, Mitchell's opponents charged that Holladay had paid off members of the legislature, and that Mitchell was so much in the pocket of Holladay that he had declared, "Whatever is Ben Holladay's politics is my politics, and whatever Ben Holladay wants I want."

Mitchell was further dogged by opponents when he went to the capital. One issue was the transposition of his middle and last names, which some trumped up to "living under a false name." The more serious charges involved his past. Mitchell was accused of abandoning his wife and two children in Pennsylvania when he went West with a mistress, abandoning her in California and taking another wife in Oregon before divorcing his first one. His trip across the country, opponents charged, had also been sweetened by $4,000 stolen from his former law office.

The Oregon Historical Project states that Mitchell repaid the $4,000. However, Mitchell firmly denied the theft allegations when they surfaced, even producing dispatches from his former law partners as proof. "No man in Pennsylvania ever lost a cent by you," former partner John M. Thompson said. On the charges of bigamy and desertion, Mitchell was vaguer. He admitted to "domestic troubles of painful character, resulting in separation and divorce," but denied any wrongdoing. He referred to his decision to change his name as a way of trying to leave his past behind, "an indiscreet, ill-advised, and injudicious act; a great blunder, a foolish mistake." He was satisfied enough with his new moniker to legally change his name in 1874, however.

A Senate committee decided not to investigate the charges against Mitchell. Ironically enough, Mitchell was at the forefront of a debate on whether or not to seat the other Senator from Oregon in 1876. In that matter, he advocated that Lafayette Grover not be seated based on charges that bribery and fraud had brought Grover to office, as well as the basis of Grover's actions in the controversial Presidential election between Republican candidate Rutherford B. Hayes and Democratic candidate Samuel Tilden. Grover, who had been Governor of Oregon before resigning to take the Senate appointment, had tried unsuccessfully to disqualify a Republican elector due to his employment as a postmaster and replace him with a Democratic substitute. Grover was able to overcome the opposition and serve one term in the Senate.

Mitchell served until 1879, unsuccessfully ran for re-appointment in 1882, and was again sent to the Senate in 1885. Holladay still had two more years to live, and may yet have had some influence over the legislature's decision. Specifically, Mitchell was charged with giving payoffs financed by the Southern Pacific Railroad Company to 17 Democratic legislators to gain their votes. The New York Times printed a brief, bitter response to the affair from the Portland Oregonian in 1887: "'No United States Senator could keep his seat a single day if it was found that he had used money to secure one vote.' Thus says a Washington dispatch. It sounds well, but it won't go down in Oregon so long as John H. Mitchell is a Senator." Mitchell was re-appointed in 1891, but dissatisfaction with him and the legislature's politics prompted the formation of a populist People's Party the next year.

Despite the accusations of complicity with a transportation baron, Mitchell nevertheless served on numerous committees while in the Senate, including several related specifically to the nation's infrastructure. These included the Committees on Railroads, Transportation Routes to the Seaboard, Claims, Privileges and Elections, Coast Defenses, and Interoceanic Canals. He secured federal funding for the construction of lighthouses and the Cascade Locks in Oregon, as well as navigational improvements on the state's rivers. In what may have been a prelude to the final scandal that befell him, Mitchell also advocated the withdrawal of federal treaties for the Coastal Indian Reservation to open the land up for settlement.

Going against his own party, Mitchell was also a proponent of the free silver movement, which supported inflation and a withdrawal from the gold standard in favor of a less rigid monetary system. In a bizarre political move in his home state, a coalition of legislators opposed to the free silver movement refused to organize the state house in 1897. With no session to confirm him, Mitchell once again had to leave the capital.

The furor over the free silver movement had died down by 1901, when the legislature appointed Mitchell to a fourth term in the Senate. Three years later, investigators had discovered widespread land fraud in Oregon. Over the prior few years, such ignominious methods as false or forged affidavits and nonexistent persons had been used to lay claim to government-owned public lands, namely for timber uses. In December of 1904, a defendant by the name of S.A.D. Porter testified that he had paid Mitchell $2,000 to use his influence as a Senator to push the fraudulent claims through the United States General Land Office.

In January of 1905, Mitchell was indicted on charges of helping out Porter and others in the land fraud. Other government officials were also indicted, including a deputy sheriff of Multnomah County and Binger Hermann, who had been the Commissioner of the General Land Office when the fraud took place and had since become a Congressman. Other indictments came down against Mitchell, charging him with trying to fraudulently secure government lands, receiving $500 from Fred A. Kribs in 1902 and on six other dates to expedite timber claims on behalf of Kribs, complicity in an attempt to create a forest district in the Blue Mountains for the benefit of private individuals, and conspiracy in attempts to discredit the prosecutor, U.S. District Attorney Francis J. Heney. The New York Times reported that the state senate endorsed Mitchell for Senator in February 1905, despite the indictments (and despite the fact that Mitchell's term should have gone on until 1907).

Some of the most damning evidence against Mitchell came from his Oregon law partner, Judge Albert H. Tanner. A document provided to the grand jury showed that Mitchell had taken his return to government into account in 1901, and that the two men had altered their agreement to split the income to the firm and instead have it be paid solely to Tanner. However, investigators noticed that the document was a not-so-elaborate fake: it was printed on paper that had not been in production at the date of the purported document, had a different color of ink from that normally on the firm's correspondence in 1901, and had misspelled two words. With his son facing a possible perjury indictment for drawing up the document, Tanner crumbled and confessed that the document had been created when the accusations against Mitchell came out.

Mitchell was also not helped by a letter he wrote to Tanner in February, prior to one of his appearances before the grand jury. The letter strongly suggested to Tanner what the "facts" of the case were, including that Mitchell had no knowledge of the land fraud and did not benefit by any services. He conspicuously ended the letter with the instruction, "Burn this without fail."

Of the slew of accusations against Mitchell, it seems that only the ones related to Kribs' claims went forward. In July, Mitchell was found guilty of those charges; later in the month, he was sentenced to serve six months in prison and pay a $1,000 fine. Mitchell appealed the conviction. With a decision still pending in December, he died of complications following the extraction of four teeth. John M. Gearin, a Democrat, was appointed to replace him.

Sources: Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, The Oregon History Project, The Bethel Historical Society, "Oregon; The United States Senatorship" in the New York Times on Oct. 14 1872, "Oregon; The Weather and the Crops; A New United States Senator" in the New York Times on Jan. 3 1873, "Senator Mitchell; The Charges Against Him" in the New York Times on Jun. 14 1873, "Forty-Fifth Congress; Summary of the Day's Proceedings" in the New York Times on March 8 1877, "Not Believed in Oregon" in the New York Times on Jul. 12 1887, "Senator Mitchell Indicted for Fraud" in the New York Times on Jan. 1 1905, "Oregon Stands By Mitchell" in the New York Times on Feb. 8 1905, "Burn This Letter, Said Mr. Mitchell" in the New York Times on Feb. 13 1905, "Mitchell Indicted Again" in the New York Times on Feb. 14 1905, "Mitchell Guilty" in the New York Times on Jul. 4 1905, "Senator Mitchell Dead, With Appeal Pending" in the New York Times on Dec. 9 1905, "New Senator From Oregon" in the New York Times on Dec. 14 1905, The Green Bag: A Monthly Illustrated Magazine Covering the Higher and Lighter Literature of the Law, Volume XVII edited by Sidney R. Wrightington, Land of Giants: The Drive to the Pacific Northwest, 1750-1950 by David Lavender, Looters of the Public Domain by Stephen A. Douglas Puter and Horace Stevens, The Centennial History of Oregon, 1811-1912 by Joseph Gaston and George H. Himes, The Oxford Companion to United States History edited by Paul S. Boyer