On May 18, 1929, in Paintsville, Johnson County, Kentucky, Carl Newton Mahan, age 6, and his friend Cecil Van Hoose, age 8, were doing what many boys in rural Kentucky did, foraging for items they might sell for a few pennies to a junk dealer. When young Carl found a piece of scrap iron that might bring those few cents, Van Hoose, older and bigger, took it away from him. Mahan became angry, ran into his home and climbed up on chair to fetch his father’s shotgun. He ran back outside, leveled it at his friend, and pulled the trigger. According to Van Hoose’s death certificate, 19 pellets took effect and he lived less than ten minutes. A news story noted that “how the boy, who is the size of an average six-year-old, ever held the heavy gun to shoot it is not known.”
Matters moved quickly. Carl Newton Mahan was taken into custody and tried essentially immediately, on May 23, as his guilt was of course not in doubt. Mrs. Manuel Fitzpatrick, the only adult eyewitness to the shooting, had heard the boys quarrelling and Mahan’s threat that if his friend did not give it up, he would kill him. She paid little mind to the “childish quarrel” until she heard the report of the shotgun. She caught Cecil, gravely wounded, in her arms as he tried to run from the scene, and she and her husband, who did not hear the argument, rushed him to a nearby hospital, where he died almost immediately.
Young Mahan reportedly was laughing and talking through his trial with his friends who were present, not comprehending the serious nature of the proceedings. He was convicted of manslaughter and faced 15 years (until his 21st birthday) in the reformatory. A fight began to prevent that, and free him, with an immediate motion made for a new trial before the same judge, County Judge John W. Butcher, who had sentenced. District Judge J.F. Bailey was to entertain the motion. The child was laughing and talking through his trial with his friends who were present, grouped around his chair, not comprehending the serious nature of the proceedings.
The jury selection for his trial, in fact, set up an altercation between the Johnson County Sheriff, Harry Adams, and Judge Butcher. The judge claimed that the Sheriff was not bringing in enough veniremen (potential jury members) and the Sheriff retorting that he was not being properly provided with the venire lists. The Sheriff lost the battle and was ordered to pay a $3 fine.
In the end, the situation ended with a whimper. A higher judge issued a writ of prohibition, keeping him from being send to the reformatory. His parents posted bail for him, in the amount of $500. The case simply faded away,
The Mahans moved to Louisville at some point soon after his release. By 1935, they were living on Mary Street, in a back structure, in Louisville. At some point, they moved to the Highlands. When Mahan reached adulthood, he married. On May 16, 1942, his then 16-year-old brother, James, called “Jimmie”, died from drowning in Breslin’s Pond.
On April 18, 1958, at the age of 35. he committed suicide at his home in the Highlands. He is buried, with his parents, who followed him in death at later times, and his brother, who predeceased him, in Evergreen Cemetery.
On February 13, 1931, the former Sheriff of Butler County, Luther Puck, along with Deputy Sheriff Wallace Embrey and Special Deputy Sheriff Rudolph Virchow Phelps, were enroute to Leestown, in Lawrence County, for a tax sale. On Highway 71 (now Highway 231), Sheriff Puck was attempting to pass a large truck loaded with oil rig machinery. It was later claimed that the truck crowded them off the side of the road into the soft ground, and their vehicle overturned. All three men were injured, Phelps most seriously. His back broken, he was taken to Puck’s home nearby, where he passed away a few hours later. The other men survived the crash.
Although Sheriff Puck was no longer in office, it is likely he was attempting to close out and settle the tax accounts for his term in office, as Sheriffs would be required to do so.
Rudolph Virchow Phelps, age 34, was survived by his second wife and three young children, as well as a child by his first marriage. His second wife survived him by many years. Although they are buried in different cemeteries, with Deputy Phelps buried in the Chapel Union Church Cemetery in Morgantown and his wife, Martha, many years later, in Breckinridge County, their grave markers are in the same style
Officers understand that family disputes are one of the most dangerous calls they are called to resolve. It was no different in 1948.
At 10:30 a.m., on May 8, 1948, City Patrolman Andrew “Andy” Miller responded to a call. Along with Officer Thomas Riggs, he had gone to the home of Arthur and Willie Mae Manuel, at 439 Marshall Street, on a report of trouble. Mrs. Manuel was taken away in a squad car to get a warrant for her husband, who already had been arrested on a similar warrant the Sunday before (the day after Derby Day, when Citation won the race – and would eventually win the Triple Crown). Manuel’s mother, Kate, coaxed her son into coming out of the house to talk to Miller, but when he tried to go back inside, Officer Miller tried to prevent him. A struggle ensued, Manuel gained control of Miller’s gun, a .38 revolver, and shots were fired. Manuel fled to the 666 Club, at Jackson and Madison Streets, a few blocks away, and left the weapon on the table there. At the later trial, witnesses reported that Manuel first shot Miller in the chest at close range, and that Miller than turned, walked away a few steps and was then shot in the back.
Two hours later, after what was almost certainly a desperate manhunt, Arthur Manuel, age 34, was apprehended at the Kentucky Bus Line Station, at 240 West Jefferson Street. A description and a picture had been quickly shared at the bus and train stations, and he was reported by a porter. He was preparing to board a bus heading to LaGrange. Eight officers, including patrolmen, detectives, members of the Homicide Squad and two police district captains showed up, and he was taken into custody without a struggle. He told the officers that a friend advised him to “get out of town” and he was headed to a sister’s home in Pewee Valley.
He claimed the shooting was an accident, and that he fired two shots while grappling over the weapon with Officer Miller. However, he had an extensive history of violence dating back to 1933, which was detailed in the newspaper and included multiple instances of “malicious shooting and wounding.” He had also served time in the U.S. Army for cutting a man’s throat.
Patrolman Miller had served on the Louisville Police Department for 30 years, having been appointed on March 9, 1918. Col. Carl Heustis, the Chief, lauded him, noting that “he was the kind of man you could put on most any asignment and expect the best. He never looked for trouble, but never ran away from it.” He was described as “soft-spoken, easygoing, and thoroughly reliable and dependable.”
Arthur Manuel was indicted a few days later for murder. A letter to the editor of The Courier-Journal noted that despite his various violent charges, he had apparently “so far never yet had gotten to the penitentiary.” The writer argued that no crime that carried a prison sentence should be wheedled down to a misdemenor. (His first reported crime, for example, grand larceny – the equivalent of felony theft now – was amended to vagrancy.) He had never served more than 30 days in jail for any offense.
Manuel stood trial in June, and the jury deadlocked on the penalty, with 9 favoring the death penalty, with 3 opposed. A later jury wanted life without privilege of parole, which was not a possible sentence at the time. Just a few months later, he was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. He was represented at the time by Benjamin F. Shobe, who went on to be appointed the first African-American judge in Kentucky since Reconstruction. Manuel had argued for self-defense, and that the officer was strangling him at the time, for an expert noted there were no powder particles on Miller’s uniform. A witness placed Manuel 6-8 feet away from Miller at the time of the second shot.
An error by the judge, however, led to a third trial, as Judge Loraine Mix noted he had referred to an arrest by Miller when in fact, there was no direct evidence of an arrest. In January, 1949, he was allowed to plead guilty and received a life sentence, which would have made him eligible for parole in eight years. Mrs. Miller was astounded, as she had not been notified that the trial had been advanced one day, so she was not present, nor were the two primary detectives, Arthur Klingman and Earl Sims. (However, Chief Heustis and Sgt. Henry Riebel, the homicide chief, were both aware of the intent to offer a life sentence.)
At the time of his death Patrolman Andrew Miller lived at 1909 Market Street. He was surivived by a wife, Rosalie, a son, Frederick and several siblings. He is buried in Evergreen Cemetery, in Louisville Kentucky. He was taken to the cemetery not in a hearse, but a flag-draped patrol wagon, following a service at Schoppenhorst Brothers Chapel, only a block from his home.
On the evening of December 18, 1933, Beattyville Chief of Police Kincaid told John Will Kidd, a 22 year old farmer, to go home immediately, due to his drunken state. A short time later, Night Marshal Floyd Hensley was returning to town and spotted Kidd “inside the west end of Crystal Creek Bridge. Presumably seeing he was still in a drunken state, Officer Hensley decided to take him into custody. A witness, Millard Stamper, stated that Kidd drew his pistol and fired, before Marshal Hensley was even aware he was armed. Kidd continued to fire, and Marshal Hensley fell, shot through the neck and mortally injured. He was able to fire back several times, however, but missed Kidd.
Hensley was a popular man, having worked for the L&N railroad as a conductor for many years. He had only been the night marshal for a few months at the time.
Kidd immediately ran to a nearby store, that of E.C. Napier, and surrendered. Napier delivered the young man to Kincaid. With feelings running high in town, and more than a hundred men gathering, it was believed that Kidd might be mobbed and lynched. Kidd was taken from Beattyville to the Madison County Jail, in Richmond, for safekeeping. Authorities in Lee County feared the possibility of violence. HIs arraignment was delayed for several days, in the hopes that matters would calm down by then. In an unusual move, when the time came for his arraignment, he was taken secretly through Estill County, just over the line into Lee County, and Judge George T. Smith of that county held court in a secret session at the edge of woods near the highway. He was held over without bond and returned immediately to Richmond
Floyd Hensley, age was survived by his wife, Mattie, two sons and five daughters. It is unclear where he is buried, as his death certificate seems to indicate a burial in a location called Sandfield.
On March 1, 1934, in an anticlimactic ending, John Will Kidd pled guilty to murder and was immediately taken to Frankfort to the state penitentiary there.
Lee County Courthouse
In January, 1937, when the Ohio River left its banks in Frankfort (as part of the much larger disaster known as the 1937 flood, the State Penitentiary located there was flood and all of the prisoners relocated. John Will Kidd, along with more than 400 others from the prison, was relocated temporarily to the Narcotic Farm, a federal prison primarily for drug offenders in Lexington. (That property is now part of the U.S. federal prison located there to this day.) He was, at some point, released, however.
On November 23, 1949, John Will Kidd, now 37, was walking home to White Ash, in Lee County, with groceries, when he apparently sat down on the train tracks to rest. The L&N No. 3, running southbound on the Lexington-Fleming run struck him and the conductor immediately stopped. The train was backed up some five miles to Beattyville so they could report the accident. White Ash, it was noted, was in an area inaccessible by roadways. He was quickly buried in the cemetery there.
In a situation that harkens as similar to a much more recent incident in the same area, on October 30, 1926, a gunfight broke out in a small community, Garrett, near Prestonsburg, Kentucky. Chief William T. Blackburn responded to a raucous party, where men were drinking and gambling. As soon as the chief arrived, gunfire broke out, and he was killed immediately. Floyd County Deputy Sheriff Berly Banks, who was with him returned fire, wounding the man who shot Chief Blackburn; as many as 20 shots may have been exchanged. Banks was not wounded. He hauled the man to the jail and it was noted, “he probably will not live.” (All evidence indicates he did not.)
Garrett, Kentucky
Early the next morning, the Floyd County Sheriff went to the scene of the shooting and arrested eleven other men, but they refused to identify themselves. It was thought the man who shot Chief Blackburn had earlier the same day, shot another man, and that is what drew Chief Blackburn to the scene.
Chief Blackburn’s body was brought to Prestonsburg, the nearest community of any size. He was survived by several children and is buried in the small Gearhart family cemetery. Of note, due to the remote area, even Blackburn’s date of death is incorrect on many records, but it was clear, upon research, that he was killed on October 30, 1926, rather than several later dates in various sources. And, although sources indicated his wife, Mollie, survived him, all records indicate she died much earlier, in 1908, and there is no evidence he remarried.
On June 2, Deputy Sheriff Givens Christian (who first name was later given as Montgomery), age 53, was trying to arrest a solidier from nearby Camp Breckinridge for driving intoxicated. A group of the men had become boisterous at the carnival and Deputy Sheriff Christian ordered them to leave. The refused, so he placed Lampkin into an Army truck. With Willie West, he drove them into Sturgis, where he sought help from the police chief there, James Shackelford. When he got out to speak to Chief Shackleford, Lampkin tried to drive away. Christian held onto the running board and he either fell, or was pushed, from the truck a few blocks away. Pvt Lampkin was arrested in nearby Culllen by “four Sturgis men and placed in the Union County Jail. Deputy Sheriff Christian died enroute to an Evansville hospital.
Deputy Sheriff Montgomery Givens Christian
At the Coroner’s inquest, held immediately, Lampkin admitted he had been drinking at a carnival but that he did not remember details. When he was arrested, Sheriff Steve Peak ordered him taken to another county temporarily due to “high feeling” in Union County, but he was soon returned to Morganfield. It appears that ultimately, no charges appear to have been placed. It is likely that Lampkin, as a soldier, was simply turned over to the military authorities at Camp Breckinridge for any punishment.
Camp Breckinridge, Morganfield, Kentucky
At some point, a federal lawsuit against the U.S. was pressed by Christian’s estate, but it was dismissed in 1949.
Deputy Sheriff Montgomery Given Christian was survived by his wife, Eva and two sons.. She passed away in Webster County some years after her husband. Both are buried in Pythian Ridge Cemetery in Sturgis, in Union County. Deputy Sheriff Christian does not appear to have a grave marker, however.
In the late night hours of June 14, 1930, Newport Patrolman August “Gus” Schoo was chasing a subject on Washington Avenue, between Third and Fourth Streets. As later described, as Schoo was gaining on the subject, the man turned and opened fire, striking Schoo in the head and shoulder. He had two other wounds to his chest that were thought to have been caused by a knife, as well. Officers converged and rushed him to the hospital, and he was taken to Dayton, to the Speers Hospital, where he was dead upon arrival. Only a year before, School had himself shot a suspect at almost the same location, under eerily similar circumstances. The killer fled east on Fourth Street and disappeared, and those in the immediate area were “too much surprised and frightened to pursue.” Washington Street was one of the busiest and most well-lighted streets in the city, and cars passed by continuously.
August Schoo
Patrolman Schoo’s pistol was still in its holster, unfired. His partner on the beat, Edward Buckingham, had separated from him and joined with Harry Derrick, a “cruising officer,” just minutes before to investigate another disturbance, a few blocks away. It was hinted that disturbance might have been a plant, to separate the two men and make Schoo more vulnerable.
As word spread about the murder, a net was thrown over the city, guarding the bridges across the Ohio River to Cincinnati and across the to Covington. Other Northern Kentucky cities helped, while Cincinnati police guarded the Ohio side of the bridges and the shoreline. Wires were transmitted to every town within 100 miles.
Two passersby provided a partial description of Schoo’s killer, describing a heavy set man in a dark suit and a light Panama hat. The newspaper speculated the man might have been one of the Chicago gangsters who had been flooding into the wide open town. Newport was well known a a location where gambling joints and poolrooms proliferated.
As the investigation proceeded, the hat was discovered the next morning, in a yard only a short distance away. The family at the home said they hear someone run through their yard and stumble over the steps, and when they went out, they found the hat. The straw hat, believed to have been lost by the killer, was purchased in Champaign, Illinois. The Newport Night Chief. Leo Livingston, however, did not believe that the killer was a Chicago gunman, but instead, someone that Schoo knew and with whom he had a personal grievance. Investigators carefully tracked School’s movements from the time he left police headquarters until he was shot, noting that he made his first call in from the call box at Third and Beech Streets. He then boarded a street car and road to Third and Monmouth Streets; he spoke to the motorman and said he was going to an address on Front Street. Minutes later, he was seen talking to a woman at Fourth and Monmouth Streets, and she had been located and questioned. She told police that School talked with her until her taxi arrived and indicated he was trying to find a man who was “out to get him.” He then walked to Fourth and Saragota Streets and talked to the operator of the Ware & Kilpatrick garage. Minutes later, he encountered his killer. They had walked together for a time, “as two friends would walk,” for several blocks. In front of 328 Washington Avenue, the killer stepped several paces away and fired on Schoo. He was heard to remark by witnesses, “Now, damn you, I got you.”
Newport, Kentucky, The Kentucky Post and Times-Star, June 16, 1930
The acting coroner, Thomas Hanly, and Dr. Matt Higgins, disclosed that the first shot hit Schoo in the jaw and ranged downward, emerging from his back, and the other hit him in the shoulder. The marks believed to be knife wounds were actually exit wounds. Steel jacketed bullets were used and two .45 caliber shell casings were found at the scene. It was thought, from an examination of his wounds, that Schoo had been crouching when shot. After the shooter fled, it was believed he was picked up by a vehicle, and he was seen jumping on the running board and yelling “let’s go.” At that time, he was bareheaded. That led detectives to conclude that Schoo had been lured into a trap. The woman, it was thought, had called at the garage and asked about Schoo, and she was, at the time “in company with a man, not her husband.” Both were known to police.
Within a few days, authorities “solved and closed” the case, finding that Carl Besse, the former “raiding constable” of the area, had committed the murder. Within days after Schoo’s death, Besse was himself killed by a posse following a bank robbery in Noble, Illinois. He had recently married a girl from Champaign. Six witnesses identified photos of Besse and it was thought that Schoo recognized him and attempted to arrest him on numerous outstanding Kentucky warrants relating to gambling. Upon investigation, just minutes about Schoo’s death, a witness had identified Besse as the man who had boarded a houseboat t the foot of Monmouth Street, brandished a pistol, and forced the witness to row him across the Ohio River. He had bragged that he had “knocked off a prohibition officer.” The motorman passing by identified Besse, as did two men at the garage, whom School has asked to watch the way a man (Besse) went when he walked past the garage. It was thought that Schoo had arrested Besse but had not yet searched him. Officers had been ordered to watch for and arrest Besse if seen.
Carl Besse had gained his sobriquet during his raiding activities on moonshine stills and slot machines during his term. He had disappeared after his term ended and a body, found on the Little Miami River, charred, battered and decomposed, had been thought to be him, although nothing could be for sure. After he was killed in Illinois, however, his father was able to definitively identify him.
A few days later, a check for $1,000 was given to School’s widow, his benefits from the police and fireman’s pension fund.
Find A Grave
August School, age 54, had been an officer for about six years. He was survived by a widow, Missouri, and two step sons from his wife’s previous marriage. Both are buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Southgate, in Campbell County.
On December 10, 1907, Officer Charles Hord, Hopkinsville Police Department, arrested young William Powhatan Winfree, Jr. – known as Will. Winfree, a member of one of Hopkinsville’s most prominent families, was himself, a “favorite young citizen.” His father, of the same name, was a well respected judge. The young man, it was described, was drunk and his “mind was unbalanced by the liquor and fancied wrongs.” Early that morning, he had joined a group at the Louisville & Nashville railroad station, where one of the party was leaving town. The young men “were very much under the influence of drink and were jerking each other about the open space in front of the station.” One got on the train and left, “avoiding the trouble that soon overtook” his companions.
Officer Hord arrested the three for their drunken condition. Winfree vehemently objected to being taken to jail in the patrol wagon. Winfree begged to be spared the humiliation of riding through the streets in the open vehicle. He was accounted to be a lawyer, a former newspaper man and a veteran of the Spanish-American war (the previous decade). He was accounted to have a pleasant, mild and gentle nature and “the last person to be suspected of shooting anyone.”
But shoot Officer Hord, he did.
Following his quick release, within hours, it was thought his “sense of shame and mortification” led him to continue drinking. The young man secured a revolver and found Hord, on Ninth Street, still on his beat near the site of the arrest, at the train station. He walked up to him. After screaming “Charlie, you liar” – described as a “word of upbraiding” – he shot Officer Hord three times. The young man, it was described, was drunk and his “mind was unbalanced by the liquor and fancied wrongs.” He was also, it was noted, also under the influence of the excitement that had gripped the city for several days.
A bystander, Walton Bryan, rushed to Winfree and grabbed the hand holding the pistol.
Officer Hord was, in turn, held to be a “popular and efficient officer and a man who holds the highest regard of the entire city.” He had, just two years before, accidentally shot himself and he had never recovered from his injuries, which, it was noted, made his injuries even more serious. With paralysis in his lower body, it was thought one of the shots had struck his spine. Winfree went home, where he was quickly arrested and returned to the same jail he’d just been released from that morning.
Hopkinsville Train Depot, from Railfanning.org
Hord was carried to the nearby office of G.B. Underwood and Dr. Woodward was summoned. There, a minister also attended him and his stated he had no ill-will against Winfree. He stated he “had only done his duty as an officer, and if death was to be the result, he was no afraid to die, he was easy on that point.” He was soon taken to his home on Brown Street. Doctors from Tennessee hurried to the scene, and an operation was contemplated, but ultimately, they decided against it. . On December 12, 1907, Charles Hord succumbed to his injuries. Before his death, he had called Judge Hord to his bedside and told him he “harbored no ill-feelings” toward his son. Winfree, for his part, realizing the enormity of his own act, collapsed at the jail.
Officer Charles Edgar Hord died at the age of 47, having served Hopkinsville for only two years. Realizing his death was immiment, he had “professed a strong hope of salvation and declared he would leave the world with kindly feelings towards all. He is buried in the Riverside Cemetery, in Hopkinsville, with the Mayor, the Chief of Police and member of the council acting as his pall-bearers. Although Officer Hord’s name is listed as Hoard in many sources, the correct spelling of his name appears to be Hord, as that is how it is rendered in his grave records. He does not appear to have a grave marker but a number of the graves in that cemetery are members of the Hord family. He was survived by his wife of only four years, Ollie Rickman, and a stepson of 12 by her first marriage.
A.O Stanley
With Hord’s death, Winfree was charged with murder. Without a week, he was released on a $5000 bond, posted by his father. He stood trial in June, 1908. His plea was self-defense, as he claimed that Hord had “caught him by the coat and raised his billy as if the street. He stated he had gone to Hord to demand an apology for the rough treatment he claimed Hord had dealt him during the arrest. Winfree was defended by, primarily, Congressman Augustus O. Stanley, the sitting member of the U.S. House of Representatives at the time. Stanley would go on to serve as the 38th Governor of Kentucky and finish his public service as a U.S. Senator. While some witnesses supported Winfree’s account, others told of hearing Winfree threaten Hord. The most damaging evidence, of course, was that he had armed himself after his release from jail. Although Attorney Stanley’s speech was powerful and eloquent, no less so was that of the prosecutor, Smith, he pled for the “enforcement of the law in spite of the prominent of the defendant’s family.
Christian County Courthouse
On June 19, 1908, the jury was discharged after deliberating for 51 hours, as being “hopelessly hung.” The vote stood at that time as 7 for acquittal and 5 for conviction. In early October, the second trial was held. Stanley was not on the case this time. It took three days to empanel a jury, as the jury wheel was resorted to to find jurors. In this case, it was thought, the prosecution’s case was stronger because the judge ruled there could be no allegations against Hord’s character. This time, however, after a long deliberation, the jury ruled in Winfree’s favor, finding him not guilty.
William Powhatan Winfree, Jr., committed suicide at his father’s home in Hopkinsville at the age of 38. He had been in ill health for several years, and was, it was thought, despondent. He is buried in the same cemetery as Officer Charles Hord.
As for the excitement that had gripped Hopkinsville? Just a few days before, an armed and masked group – who came to be known as “Night Riders” – rode into Hopkinsville, severed its connection with the outside world by cutting telephone and telegraph lines and took local police and firemen captive. These men – tobacco farmers in the area – were beginning the action known as the Black Patch War, with armed men fighting against tobacco dealers over tobacco prices. They fired several tobacco warehouses, destroying the property of the the wealthy tobacco distributors who were offering ruinously low prices to the tobacco farmers who had developed the “Association” to fight them. That night only a few officers were on duty in the overnight hours, and it was an easy task for the Night Riders to corner them and take them captive. The six firemen on duty were soon trapped in their own building, and threatened if they left to attempt to put out the fires. The Fire Chief, hurrying to the scene was stopped, but when he pointed out that residences were also burning, was allowed to bring firemen to the area to fight those fires. Officer Hord, it was noted, a “day man” had hurried to the wrecked police station. Posses were formed but the raiders made a clean getaway. But, it can be imagined, in the aftermath of such excitement, the entire town was in a state of feverish activity. Was that what brought Winfree to become drunk that day, when he was generally accorded to be a peaceful man?
The site of one of the destroyed warehouses was later donated to Hopkinsville and became what it remains, Peace Park. The park is approximately at the same location, being across the street from the depot, where Officer Hord was murdered.
On August 1, 1937, Mrs. and Mrs. John Yelenosky, of Lynch, were reported in the Knoxville (Tennessee) Journal to be the proud parents of a son, who was born on July 24, 1937. That son would have been Ronald Eugene, who eventually moved from Kentucky and passed away in 1978 in Chicago, Illinois
Some years later, on February 5, 1949, Patrolman John Yelenosky, of Lynch, in Harlan County, was called to assist in breaking up a demonstration in front of the Union Supply Company, which was operated by the U.S. Coal and Coke Company, itself a subsidiary of the U. S. Steel Corporation. As later reported, Lawrence Pennington, along with five carloads of men, all members of the United Construction Workers (an affiliate of the United Mine Workers) stopped in front of the store to attempt to enlist non-union workers at the store to join their organization. The “captive mine” owned by the steel company was connected to the UMW. `The Kentucky State police later reported that “Pennington had a gun in one had and a union card in the other.”
John Yelenosky
When Officers Yelenosky and Harry Carroll arrived, Pennington shot Yelenosky through the head, killing him instantly. Officer Carroll returned fire, hitting Pennington several times. Carroll was, himself, hit in the leg in the melee. At the Coroner’s inquest, it was indicated that Yelenosky grabbed Pennington because he was “flourishing a gun.”
Murder charges were laid against Pennington, age 24. He was in the hospital still, and when his bond, $10,000 was posted, the armed guard was removed that had been with him at the Harlan Hospital. His first trial was delayed, with the Commonwealth Attorney noting that there was a great deal of interest in the matter in Harlan, as Pennington was an active member of the UMWA.
A few months later, in August, Pennington and another man were charged with shooting into a home in Golden Ash, another Harlan County community. At some point, his bond had apparently been raised, as he was said to be out of jail on a $15,000 bond. He was allowed to remain free on bond, and in January, 1950, it was announced the trial would be moved to London, in Laurel County. That county was chosen because “no coal was mined” there. At the end of March, 1950, Pennington was convicted of manslaughter, rather than murder, and given a two year sentence.
Just days before the statute of limitations would have expired, Stella Yelenosky field a lawsuit, asking for $250,000 in damages, against the UMW, and specifically John L. Lewis for the death of her husband, in federal court. She alleged “gang force and brutality” were being used in the situation. Nothing more was reported, although it is thought she did get a substantial settlement, enough to allow her to move out of the state.
Find a Grave
It should be noted, to avoid any confusion, that although his death certificate (and records that would be based on that death certificate) indicated John Yelenosky died on February 15, 1949, extant newspaper records, and in fact the date the death certificate was signed, indicate he was killed on February 5, ten days earlier.
John Yelenosky, a native of Pennsylvania, is buried in the Saint John Greek Catholic Cemetery in Scottdale, Pennsylvania. His wife, Stella, survived him for many years, and passed away in 1993. She lies next to him.
On May 11, 1950, Clarence L. Meenach, the “night policeman” of Russell, Kentucky, was lodging a prisoner in jail at daybreak. As Chief John Lewis approached the City Building at about 5 a.m., he heard three shots and a man burst out of the front door. The 74-year-old police chief grappled with the man, he fired twice at him. One of the shots went wild, the other struck the chief in the chest, striking his badge and “bending it double.” The bullet, in effect, welded itself to the metal of the badge. Lewis was badly shaken and cut up and was too ill to remain on duty.
As the situation unfolded, and others rushed to the scene, Chief Lewis found Officer Meenach lying on the floor in the hall with a knife beneath him. Acting Chief W. A. Greathouse (who took over for Chief Lewis) stated that the knife was tentatively identified by Lawrence McMackin, of Ironton, Ohio, as the one that had been drawn on him by the prisoner early that morning in Ironton. Office Meenach, who had only one arm, was apparently attacked by his killer and murdered with his own gun just as he was unlocking a door.
Two other young men were being held in the Russell Jail, but formal identification of the pair was awaiting the arrival of photographs being flown from the Ohio State Penitentiary in Columbus.
With Russell being on the convergence of Kentucky and Ohio (and West Virginia as well), roadblocks were maintained and boats patrolled the Ohio River bank on the chance he might be trying to escape Kentucky. The killer was about 25, weighed about 150 lbs and was light-complected. A number of arrests were made as the day progressed. That same evening, Charles “Shorty” Cameron was arrested near Ironton, Ohio, across the river.
Cameron was convicted in late June, 1950, in a trial held in Vanceburg, Lewis County. He was convicted of manslaughter, although he claimed he had not committed the homicide. He received a sentence of only six years.
Clarence Meenach was a former magistrate and a recent unsuccessful candidate for Greenup County Judge. He is buried in the Rude Cemetery, in Flatwoods, in Greenup County, Ky. He was survived by his wife, Bertha, and four children.
Kentucky Cop Stories 