The Last Public Execution in America
by Perry T. Ryan
CHAPTER 25
THE EXECUTION
Florence Thompson arose early on the morning of August 14, 1936.
Realizing the number of people she might encounter, she dressed
neatly, wearing a navy blue store-bought lace dress.
Arriving in town, she was again confronted by reporters who wanted
to know whether she would drop the platform. All of the events had
made her quite nervous. She told them, "I have made up my mind who
will perform the execution, but I shall make no announcement. Nobody
will know until the time comes. Why should I reveal my plans?"
The crowd grew so large that, at 4:20 a.m., officials at the foot
of Locust Street opened a gate to a wire enclosure surrounding the
lot in order to permit the horde to filter inside. The crowd grew
until it reached Second Street. Phil Hanna tested his trap door, but
the door stuck. At the time, some estimated that the crowd had grown
to 15,000. Several spectators climbed onto the roofs of buildings in
order to get a better view.
H. Lawrence Ott, a constable from Louisville, seated himself at a
counter in an Owensboro restaurant. With his pistol in a shoulder
holster, he accidentally banged the counter, causing the gun to
discharge. The bullet punctured his trouser pocket and hit the metal
rim of the seat. Although it plowed into the floor of the restaurant,
Deputy Constable Louis Fowler as well as three bystanders were mildly
injured by fragments.
At 4:25 a.m., an F.B.I. agent drove Florence in a black car
bearing Lee County license plates to within 150 feet north of the
scaffold, where he and the Sheriff waited. She sat there, worrying.
If, for any reason, Hash did not perform as promised, she would have
to do it herself.
At 4:30 a.m., Leonard A. Peters, his wife, and another couple,
were driving from Evansville to Owensboro to witness the hanging. In
an attempt to overtake a truck, he ran into a ditch and was killed
instantly. His wife and the couple in the car survived.
At 4:35 a.m., Hanna leaned a ladder against the middle crossbeam
of the gallows. He climbed the ladder and wrapped the rope several
times around the crossbeam. At 4:47 a.m., Hanna again tested the trap
door on the scaffold to make sure it was working properly.
The sun rose at 5:12 a.m. and began to illuminate the city.
Another hot summer morning, the sky was clear, and the dew remained
fresh on the ground.
Most of the huge crowd had been awake all night. The aura of the
morning's forthcoming events had kept them awake, but underneath it
all, most were weary. The Owensboro Messenger later reported that the
crowd represented nine counties in Kentucky as well as five states.
At first, no blacks appeared. Only sixteen minutes remained until the
majority of the group would, for the first time, witness a man's
death. More and more people began to compress into the streets of
Owensboro. Everyone wanted a good view.
Arthur Hash mounted the scaffold, intoxicated. Hash was rather
conspicuous, wearing a white suit and a white Panama hat. A reporter
asked him who he was. Attempting to dodge the question, Hash
responded, "I'm Daredevil Dick of Montana," but some of the
Louisville policemen in the crowd as well as the Louisville reporters
recognized him as a former Louisville policeman.
Bethea had finally reached the conclusion that all was lost. His
attempted appeal to the Kentucky Court of Appeals and his fight to
obtain a Writ of Habeas Corpus were both lost. Things were hopeless,
and not even Gov. Chandler was willing to help him. Time was running
out. A few other spectators climbed some of the light poles and clung
there to see better.
At 5:21, a.m., Bethea walked out of the front door of the jail
with Deputy Reisz holding his right arm and Deputy Dishman holding
his left. Father Lammers walked close behind the three men. Bethea's
hands were handcuffed in front of him. As he walked, he wore a
tan-colored pair of trousers and a dark-colored shirt. He wanted to
look good for the crowd, so he buttoned the top button of his shirt
but wore no necktie. The jail was southeast of the scaffold, so
Bethea walked between the officers toward the death site. The huge
crowd parted as he was led to his death. No one shouted at him, no
one remarked. They just gazed as he marched onward.
At 5:23 a.m., as Bethea reached the base of the steps, his guards
stepped back. He sat down and said, "Let me take off these shoes. I
want to put on this clean pair of socks." He removed his shoes and,
with handcuffed hands, removed his dirty socks, replacing them with a
brand new pair which he pulled from a side pocket. Wearing only the
new socks, he left his shoes at the base and then hurriedly climbed
the eight steps of the base and then the thirteen steps with the two
deputies holding his arms. No one bothered the shoes he left behind.
Reaching the top, the condemned man tested the trap doors with his
left foot to make sure it was secure, then he stepped onto the doors,
over the large "X" as Phil Hanna had instructed him. He turned and
faced east, looking into the rising sun for the last time. Although
given an opportunity to address the crowd, Bethea said nothing. The
scaffold was crowded by twelve men, including Bethea, Deputy Sheriffs
Dishman and Reisz; Father Lammers, of the Cathedral of the Assumption
Church in Louisville; Sheriff Lester Pyle of White County, Illinois;
G. Phil Hanna, the hangman; and Arthur Hash. Hash's hands were
clenched to the lever which would trigger the trap door. The ladder
which had been used to adjust the noose was propped up at an angle
between two of the upright columns of the gallows.
Father Lammers held up his hand to hush the crowd. Seeing the
signal, the crowd quieted immediately. They just stood there,
transfixed. From that moment forward, a nervous, grave silence fell
upon the enormous assembly of witnesses. Bethea gave his last
confession while Hash, intoxicated, embarrassed everyone by
repeatedly asking Bethea to "say something." Bethea and the other men
on the platform ignored Hash. No one demonstrated, and no one showed
disrespect for the man's impending death, except some newspaper
reporters who insisted that people who were blocking their view "get
down." One asked, "What do you think we came here for?"
Hanna then placed a long, black hood over Bethea's head, which
concealed Bethea's shoulders and his entire head. Bethea said that he
wanted to talk to the priest again, but the request was ignored.
Other assistants then began strapping three heavy leather straps
around Bethea's body. The first strap was buckled around Bethea's
ankles. The second was placed around his thighs, while Sheriff Lester
Pyle, who had accompanied Hanna from White County, Illinois, buckled
the third strap around Bethea's arms and chest. The three straps gave
Bethea's clothes a rippled appearance.
The hangman, Phil Hanna, stepped over to Bethea's left and placed
the heavy hemp noose around Bethea's neck. The rope had been
carefully oiled in order to permit the knot to slide into position
and tighten with ease. Hash was still clutching the metal lever which
operated the trap doors. Hanna adjusted the noose to fit behind
Bethea's left ear, while Bethea stood motionless, helpless. This was
a standard procedure, which was followed in order to spare Bethea any
suffering. So adjusted, the noose should break Bethea's neck when he
fell, causing almost instant death.
Hash was waiting, still clasping the lever.
Hanna stepped away, to Bethea's left. At 5:32 a.m., giving the
prearranged signal, he nodded to Hash, but Hash, in his drunken
stupor, did nothing. Hanna, growing impatient, then shouted, "Do it
now." Hash fumbled, and one of the deputy sheriffs leaned onto the
lever. The trap door dropped and Bethea fell about eight feet. The
rope tightened, and Bethea swung only slightly at its end. His neck
broken, Bethea's head was bent sharply almost touching his right
shoulder.
Minutes later, as the man hung from the rope, Phil Hanna climbed
down to the base of the scaffold and made a small slit in the hood so
Father Lammers could anoint the body for the Last Sacraments. One of
the physicians stepped onto the top of the railroad ties, near the
base of the gallows, to feel Bethea's pulse. A staff of three
physicians, including Dr. B. H. Sigler, Dr. W. L. Tyler, and Dr. John
S. Oldham, felt Bethea's pulse several times before concluding that
he was dead, some fourteen minutes after the trap door was sprung.
Hash stammered down the steps and said, "I'm drunk as hell. I am
getting away from this town as soon as I can. Well anyhow it's over."
After Bethea finally expired, some of the guards lifted his
lifeless, limber body, while the noose was removed from around his
neck. The hangman cautioned them not to remove the hood from Bethea's
head, for such an act would expose the face of death to the crowd.
The body was placed in a woven, reed basket, designed for paupers,
and a hearse from the Andrew & Wheatley Funeral Home, located at
721 West Fourth Street, a local mortuary run by blacks, drove the
body away to be prepared for burial.
Society was avenged.
In ways, the hanging was similar to the public hangings which were
conducted in seventeenth and eighteenth century England. Ironically,
at such events, pickpockets apparently had their own holiday. A
255-pound policeman, Horace Snell, reported that his wallet
containing some $21.00 was taken by a pickpocket during the rush near
the gate of the scaffold enclosure.
Miss Jackie Smith, of Owensboro, identified Raymond Smith, a
thirty-two-year-old man, as the person who took $500 in diamonds from
her three weeks before. The man told police that he had been in
Hopkinsville and that he had returned for the "execution festival."
Finally discussing her plans, Florence told reporters, "I did not
want people pointing out my children and saying, ‘Their mother was
the one who hanged a Negro in Owensboro.'"
On the reverse of the death warrant, Sheriff Florence Thompson set
forth that she had carried out the Governor's order, stating as
follows:
Executed the within order by hanging Rainey Bethea by
the neck until pronounded [sic] dead by Dr's W. L. Tyler, B. H.
Seigler [sic], and John S. Oldham. This Hanging took place on County
Garage Lot in Owensboro, Daviess County, Kentucky, at (5:32) five
thirty-two A.M. Friday August 14th, 1936 and said Rainey Bethea was
pronounced dead fifteen minutes later.
This August 14th 1936.
FLORENCE THOMPSON S D C
[Sheriff, Daviess County]
Hanna was furious with Hash and complained to reporters, "He
should never have been permitted to spring the trap. He was too drunk
and too scared. It was the worst display in my seventy hangings."
Hanna apparently had forgotten about the 1920 hanging of James
Johnson, when the rope broke and Johnson fell to the ground.
The hearse had a difficult time getting through the immense crowd.
Driving slowly, the crowds parted to permit the attendants to
complete their job.
Bethea's body was removed from the scaffold and placed in a reed
basket, the type of coffin used for those who could not afford one.
Bethea's body was taken to St. Stephens Catholic Church, where a
requiem mass was said by Father Leo J. Denise at 8 a.m. Burial
followed shortly thereafter, but Bethea's body was not sent to South
Carolina as he requested. Instead, it was buried in a pauper's grave
at the Owensboro Potter's Field. On the same day, Dr. Sigler and Dr.
Tyler signed Bethea's death certificate, which stated "legal hanging"
as the cause of death. They gave the official time of death at 5:45
a.m.
When Sheriff Thompson returned to Elmer Dyer's residence to get
her sons, Jimmy and Pat were sitting on the steps of the home,
dressed in their pajamas, waiting for her. As she walked in the door,
Jimmy asked her, "Well, did you do it?" Florence replied, "No, I
didn't have to."