The Last Public Execution in America

by Perry T. Ryan

THE AFTERMATH

Although Florence's children were relieved that their mother did not have to hang Bethea, the journalists who covered the story were not so pleased. Indeed, many were furious. After all, newspapers from across the country had spent a great deal of money sending reporters to Owensboro to photograph and interview the first woman to execute a man in American history. Perhaps out of a desire to appease their editors or perhaps to make the story more interesting for their readers, the reporters took great liberties in reporting the event. Indeed, some of these accounts were simply false. There was some consistency in the falsehoods reported by the various papers because several wire services proclaimed that the crowd was disorderly and out of control. Some misrepresented that the crowd hissed the priest as he prayed with Bethea. Others incorrectly reported that the crowd rushed the scaffold as Bethea swung from the rope. Others claimed that the crowd grappled for souvenirs, tearing the hood and clothes from Bethea's body. No such atrocities occurred. Almost overnight, the fair city of Owensboro fell victim to ridicule and scorn.

No person was more affected than Sheriff Florence Thompson. Over the next several weeks, she received numerous letters protesting the barbarity of the hanging, accusing her of neglecting her responsibilities for permitting such a "Roman Holiday," and blaming her for other half truths. The Chicago Sun falsely reported that Florence fainted at the foot of the scaffold on her way to perform the hanging. Headlines in the Philadelphia Record read, "They Ate Hot Dogs While a Man Died on the Gallows." One Boston newspaper headlined, "Children Picnic as Killer Pays." From the Providence Bulletin, "Throng of 10,000 Watches Hanging." An editorial appeared in the Abilene Reporter entitled, "Ancient Blood Lust." Time magazine reported, "Sheriff Thompson Lost Her Nerve." In giant headlines, the Boston Traveler reported, "Woman Sheriff Balks at Hanging" and "Vendors Sell Pop Corn, Hot Dogs." The Boston Daily Record was typical of most of the reports received over the national wire services. One paragraph stated:

Cheering, booing, eating, joking, 20,000 persons witnessed the public execution of Rainey Bethea, 22, frightened Negro boy, at Owensboro, Ky., yesterday. In callous, carnival spirit, the mob charged the gallows after the trap was sprung, tore the executioner's hood from the corpse, chipped the gallows for souvenirs. Mothers attended with babes in arms, hot dog venders hawked their wares and a woman across the street held a ‘necktie breakfast' for relatives from surrounding towns. The woman sheriff, at the last minute, decided not to spring the trap.

The New York Herald Tribune reported, "Town Gay for Public Hanging." The Chicago American reported, "20,000 Have Good Time As Law Hangs A Slayer." On a much milder note, the Evansville Courier reported, "Huge Crowd Sees Hanging."

August 16, 1936, the Editor of the Louisville Courier-Journal, who obviously had not attended the hanging, published an editorial criticizing the hanging in Owensboro, stating:

A DISGUSTING HOLIDAY

As an attraction to draw a crowd to the city, the Bethea public hanging at Owensboro may be considered a success; but, from the description, it was an unedifying spectacle and Owensboro, which had no choice in the matter, doubtless would prefer some other kind of carnival occasion.

‘The crowd,' we were told, ‘cheered and yelled' as Bethea's body dropped. Souvenir hunters ripped the hangman's hood from Bethea's face immediately after his body dropped. Bethea still breathed when a few persons from the crowd rushed the four-foot wire inclosure about the scaffold and scrambled for fragments as mementoes.

‘People stood on roofs, hung from telephone poles, leaned out windows, stood on automobiles. One group took possession of the roof of a hearse waiting for Bethea's body. Many children, including babies were carried on the shoulders of their parents.' It ought to be a lesson to them.

The condemned man ‘appeared to be serious but calm.' Naturally, he didn't enter in the spirit of gaiety. He couldn't look forward to entertaining his friends with a recital of the adventure and boring them thereafter with it for the remainder of his days. It was a serious event in Bethea's life. It was a serious event in the life of Kentucky, too, as the morbid enjoyment of that curious throng attests.

The editor of the Owensboro Messenger-Inquirer was outraged that his fellow journalists would portray the city of Owensboro as a place of barbarism. In a sharply written editorial, printed August 16, 1936, the Owensboro newspaper accused other journalists of unethical conduct.

PANDERERS GALORE

Ambitious and irresponsible reporters and photographers who swarmed into Owensboro for the Bethea hanging dipped their ready hands into the cloaca of evil designs and plastered over the name of this fair city the dirty results of their pandering.

Those who saw the dawn kindling in the east and ushering in the last sunrise of the despicable creature about to die, did not expect all of the watchers to be in reverent mood, but a calm, quiet demeanor characterized their behavior, as a group, throughout their long wait, surprisingly moderate for an occasion on which the law was exacting the supreme penalty.

Considering the size of the throng that witnessed the hanging Friday morning and that it was composed largely of people, who journeyed to Owensboro from distant places, the wonder is that there was no demonstration, no emotional outburst. There was not the semblance of ‘mob impulse' or ‘eagerness for the kill.' For the sensation seeking star scribes of quacks of American journalism, it was entirely too tame an affair. This is the reason that some of them reported it as they wanted it to be--not as it was.

They heard a very few people on the outskirts of the crowd call out at different times: ‘Hurry up,' ‘Get it over' or ‘hang him.' To give screaming bulletins to the yellow press and to ruthless radio commentators, they magnified and colored it into a scene of ‘great disorder' though there was never a general outcry of any kind.

When a priest held up his hand from the scaffold for silence, as Bethea was about to go to his death, there was no ‘blood thirst' mob ‘shouting and yelling.' Present were several thousand, who came from near and far to see a man legally hanged for the most heinous crime ever committed in Daviess county, and several thousand more, who turned out to see how the rest would act. When that hand went up in a gesture for silence, the buzz of the multitude's conversations died down till the fall of the proverbial pin could have been heard.

The smart scribes and sob sisters looked on. All they saw was a black man standing on a scaffold with a rope around his neck and a mass of people peering up at him. That was too tame, they would call it a ‘jeering' throng. All they heard was the click of the trap door. That would not do. There would have to be ‘cheering.' So they said there was. Then they heard cameramen from cities where nothing is cared about the horrible crime Bethea committed. They were bawling at officials to ‘move out of the way,' to ‘give us a break.' They had to have their souvenirs to show the half civilized readers of their yellow sheets. The boys and girls who had to tell the story needed more color to regale them with atrocious accounts of how the people behaved. They found a few individuals who had gone in the bizarre which inspired thundering headlines about ‘gayety' and ‘carnival' spirit.

In administering the last sacrament, the Rev. H. J. Lammers, of Louisville, made an opening in the hood. When the doctors pronounced Bethea dead, one of the attendants at the scaffold took a tag off the hood. Another then took a fragment and others, who were at arms length from the dead man, followed suit. The blunder of tearing off that tag gave the high powered thrill-writers their big opening. They pictured the crowd as tearing Bethea's clothes from his body. The crowd was never in disorder and Bethea's clothes were never torn.

The ‘souvenir hunting mob' did not even pick up the sox [sic] and shoes the doomed man left at the foot of the gallows. It did not so much as touch the basket in which Agnew and Wheatley, colored undertakers, placed the body, clothes and all, or molest it or them in the slightest as they bore it away.

The scavenger writers who came to depict a ‘jolly holiday' and ‘gala occasion' had both, but they never saw a more orderly throng at a baseball game.

The public hanging of Bethea was not a disgrace to Kentucky. But, a disgrace to Illinois, Missouri, Tennessee, and some other states, was the spectacle made of it in their scandal monger press. Owensboro should not be surprised at the scurrilous attack upon it by lurid writers and glib tongued talkers in northern and eastern states for they delight to distort any news from Kentucky into weird barbaric tales. We have learned how best to protect our women from rapists-murderers, white or colored. The only way, it seems, that we will ever be able to protect them from the cruelties of a sordid section of the press, will be by softening the state's anti-rape law, which makes public hanging mandatory. So many as favor that will please tell the legislature.

Vendors of news occupy an important place in the nation, and their purpose should always be to maintain unquestioned exactness of facts. Where the subject matter is susceptible to coloring there should be no sacrifice of truth. To pervert the high honor of the profession for the paltry reward of more readers is a dangerous venture and one that should be curbed.

Owensboro's citizenry, than which no finer representatives of high-bred Americans can be found anywhere, regrets that it was necessary to invoke the Mosaic law, but a sobered regret and a more solemn memory is that the hanging was eagerly seized upon and transformed into a picturization of the exhibition of low passions loosed.

We are proud of our city, and justly so, for no people are of finer fiber. The putrid pens of those who wore the garb of the news profession painted in lurid colors purported happenings, and it is sad but true that such distorted reports are accepted while the plain statement of facts is discarded as an attempted apology.

Thousands of those who witnessed the Bethea hanging came from outside the county. They belonged to good families in their communities, temporarily bereft of their better judgment and bent on viewing a scene which ordinarily would be extremely repugnant to them. And the out-of-town reporters found in the visitors elements to embody in their sordid stories.

A thoughtless word here and there, expressed without cognizance of its probability of misuse, and the staid citizen away from home becomes to the wild-eyed correspondent a Kentuckian gunning for human game. There should be available means of calling to account the writer who for a few filthy shekels diverts his sense of justice into the recording of things that never were.

On the same day, the Courier-Journal published a letter to the editor, condemning the Owensboro hanging.

To the Editor of the Courier-Journal.

The majesty of the law has again been vindicated (?). Fifteen thousand people at sunrise have witnessed the public hanging of a confessed criminal and many scrambled for the possession of bits of the black hood that covered his head as the trap was sprung. Women with young babes in their arms held the innocents high so that they could get the moral lesson of the thrilling moment. The crowd cheered as the trap was sprung. The newspapers described the scene as a ‘picnic hanging' and a ‘hangman's holiday.'

The Sheriffess, seeming to question the effect upon her own children if she should act as the honorable agent of the law's majesty, turned that honor (!!!) over to a mere man, a volunteer. It was an ennobling scene that would make the ancient Roman holiday look like a brilliant social function of the 400 in comparison.

Has the time not come when Kentucky should put an end to such morbid entertainment? Surely the Legislature that repeals the law providing for public executions and the Governor who recommends such action and signs the bill will do much to redeem Kentucky from public and national disgrace.

 

John Lowe Fort,

Executive Secretary

Louisville Council of Churches

Hash Reimbursed for Expenses

On August 17, 1936, A. L. Hash mailed a letter to Simon Smith, Chief Deputy Sheriff of Daviess County. Apparently Deputy Smith had advised Hash to send him a bill for his expenses and the letter from Hash outlined what they were.

P.O. Box 502

Louisville, Ky.

August 17th, 36.

 

Mr. Simon Smith,

Chief Deputy Sheriff,

Daviess County

Owensboro, Kentucky

 

My Dear Mr. Smith:-

As per your request, I am sending you my expense account for trip to your city, and etc.

R. R. ticket $3.44c. Room in Planters Hotel $1.25c meals $1.00. and [sic taxi] Cab to and from Depot here 50c making a total of $6.19c. I am,

 

Your friend always,

/S/ A. L. Hash

On August 19, 1936, Leigh Harris, the editor of the Henderson Gleaner, a daily newspaper in nearby Henderson, Kentucky, suggested that Owensboro had done the right thing in publicly hanging Bethea. The editor of this paper sharply remarked that the hanging should have been more convenient for the public.

The legalized lynching at Owensboro, like Banquo's ghost, will not down.

The dull thud of a human body at the end of the hangman's rope is heard all but around the world. It is receiving editorial comment, east, west, north and south and eventually Canada, Mexico and Europe will come to know Owensboro.

In a long editorial comment, the Peoria Journal concludes by saying:

But there is a more serious danger incidental to the Owensboro case than that inherent in the fact that 20,000 persons allowed death to make a holiday for them. The real danger being what it is, another city in Kentucky may--as soon as opportunity offers--try to outdo Owensboro. This is unthinkable.

In the Peoples Forum, the Chicago Tribune and many metropolitan papers contributors are having their say about the Owensboro hanging.

Some Kentucky papers are condemning-- some trying to justify it from the angle that Kentucky has the RIGHT to lynch rapists publicly if she wants to.

With this proposition we have no quarrel. Absolutely we have the RIGHT to hang ‘em when where and who it pleases. The issue is as to the WISDOM of the hanging frolic at Owensboro. This paper believes it unwise and advocates a repeal of the law which made it possible.

The time--the ungodly, ghostly break o' day hour--the impossible hour chosen for a public execution--was in itself a confession of error.

The hanging was local and public on the theory that it would have a wholesome effect.

The hours should have been set at a CONVENIENT time--say the hour that a big circus begins--two o'clock in the afternoon. This would have enabled tens of thousands to come to the hanging' bee and get home in time to milk the cows. The hanging should have been at the High School stadium where EVERYBODY could sit and be comfortable and see the ghastly spectacle.

Why act in a cowardly, covert way to perform a great deed for the community?

The climax, we think in connection with the Owensboro hanging was reached in the New York broadcasting studio Sunday evening where the ‘hangin' was staged by the ‘News brought to Life' outfit.

The scene was represented as ‘the mountains of Kentucky.' The ‘mountain sides' were filed with a howling mob.

All dialog was in the eastern idea of ‘Hill Billy.' Worse than the execution of the rapist was the murder of the King's English by the woman sheriff and all actors in the memorable hanging.

It was funny--funny in a way different perhaps than the New York studio intended.

It was very provincial and here we have been saying that the radio would wipe out provincialism, misconception and misunder- standing.

If radio City wants to put something funny on the air draft a few natives we listened to at the Hoboken ferry or in the Ghetto.

The results of the unethical and false reports which appeared in the newspapers did much more damage than just embarrassing Florence Thompson and enraging the citizens of Owensboro. On August 18, 1936, Florence Thompson received the following anonymous letter which threatened her for having conducted the hanging:

Louisville, Ky.

August 17, 1936

 

Mrs. Florence Thompson:

I am writing you to let you know how very low and in human [sic] you was as sheriff to allow a "Picnic Hanging." Well Madam there is going to dawn a day in your life and that of your "Boy Friend" who so kindly sprung the trap for you that you both will pray to God as that poor negro boy prayed that you had never been born. We are preparing right now to "fix" you and your "Boy Friend" we are getting some of the gamest that Chicago can send to do the work. The job will be pulled it is going to cost us money but we are going to let you see that humanity is humanity--What could you have done to prevented a "Picnic Hanging" for your Race. You could have insisted on a quiet legal orderly hanging. Was this done? No you allowed the entire countryside to turn out to see a poor helpless negro boy hanged-- Guilty? If he was guilty of the crime I say he or anyone else should have paid the penalty, but in a right way-- A mother? Yes and you have children how would you like for your child to go to his death in such a manner? Invite the counties to see him hanged. No when his or her time comes you will only hear about it because if it takes eternity to pull off the "Deal" we mean to do it I don't say this year but Madam. We are going to let you spend the "Evening" of your life regretting what you have done. You had the power to see that the boy was put to death properly--You and Your "Boy Friend" have been criticized by such men as Booke Carter all Eastern states are talking about the Picnic Hanging. God looked down on the scene some day he will wreak his vengeance on your town but before he does, we are going to wreak it first on you and yours. Go where you want to or stay you are spotted right now. And as to your "Boy Friend" we have him right now. I want this letter printed. You had that poor boys letter printed and I mean I want this printed madam sheriff. We have your Boy Friend right here and I don't care where he goes we are going to get him. You can send your children where ever you want to but we are going to get them. The rest of your life will be spent looking for your children I want this printed.

Sympathizers of

of the negro boy

Florence, frightened by the threat and particularly upset by the idea that her children might be kidnapped, mailed the original letter to L. E. Cranor, the United States Marshal for the Western District of Kentucky, asking for his assistance in locating the writer. Cranor quickly responded with the following letter:

Department of Justice

United States Marshal

Western District of Kentucky

 

Louisville, Ky.

August 21, 36

 

Mrs. Florence Thompson

Sheriff of Daviess Co.

 

Dear Mrs. Thompson

Your letter rec'd and contents noted. I have turned them over to the District Attorney, and we will put everything we have on this and try and catch the writer.

I would suggest that you watch your mail very closely and open your letters with care and avoid handling these letters or getting finger prints on the letters themselves as of course the envelopes can't be used as so many handle them but get them back in an envelope in case you receive more of them and return to me marked personal and we will see if we can find any prints on them.

Don't be alarmed just be careful. I think its the work of some fool negro woman that is only trying to scare you.

In case anything develops we will advise you. I would not give it any publicity at least of present as it might put the idea in some other fool's head & you would start getting them from various places.

Please keep us advised, will perhaps see you in near future feel sure P.O. Inspector will call on you. With success & good wishes to all, I am

Very truly yours,

L. E. Cranor

On September 2, 1936, W. R. Biggs, the Inspector in Charge of the Cincinnati Division of the United States Postal Service, which included Indiana, Kentucky, and Ohio, wrote Florence a letter advising her that the F.B.I. had determined that the letter did not constitute a violation of the federal extortion statute and that the F.B.I. had no jurisdiction in the matter.

As was true before the hanging took place, various people from across the country who read the newspaper accounts of the hanging sent Sheriff Thompson letters. As before, some of the letters were critical, while others were supportive. Here are a few examples of the critical correspondence:

1. A writer from Sacramento, California, anonymously mailed Florence an editorial which appeared in the August 17 edition of the Sacramento Bee, calling the hanging a "shocking display of brutality in Kentucky." The writer asked, "How could you as a woman allow such a thing?"

2. In a letter dated August 17, Ruby E. Burt, of Greensboro, North Carolina, wrote that she was a native Kentuckian who was "thoroughly ashamed of this sad spectacle." She wrote that Kentucky had "turned back the clock" because "the officials in charge should be responsible" if the death was not "attended by dignity."

3. An anonymous writer from Scotland wrote that Kentuckians were very much like the barbaric peoples of Africa in their "cannibalism," but he stated that, unlike the Africans, Kentuckians knew better. He stated that too many sheriffs in America "should have the rope around your necks for a change." He stated that the crime in America had caused it to become the laughing stock of the world.

4. On August 19, an anonymous writer from Chicago wrote that she was an avid reader of the Chicago papers and that she believed Florence that when God gave people thought, Florence had been "left out." She said she was too civilized to treat a dog the way Florence had treated Bethea.

5. A note from "a white woman" in New York City to Florence announced that she was from Kentucky and that she could not believe a woman would "ever become so low as to hang a colored man."

6. A postcard from Cambridge, Massachusetts, advised Florence that "a woman's place is in the kitchen."

7. Another postcard said, "here's hoping you have learned a little if you have braves enough to learn and if the horror of your deed haunts you, you have only yourself to blame."

8. On August 17, Margaret Shaw, of West Orange, Florida, wrote Florence to protest the "spectacle which took place in Owensboro on August 14th."

9. An anonymous writer told Florence that she hoped that Florence and "the ten thousand poor whites had a good time at the barbecue and picnic today."

10. Agnes Meline, of Chicago, wrote on August 16 that she had read an article in the Chicago Daily News entitled, "Kentuckians make Holiday of Execution." She said the article agitated her and that she regretted that the event took place.

11. Mrs. M. L. Fuller of Chicago wrote Florence on August 17 and stated that she disapproved of a woman being sheriff, "It's a man's job and the woman's place is in the home taking care of it." This particular letter outraged Florence so much that she did draft a reply in which she blamed the "lying unscrupulous reporters sent here from your city" for the misrepresentations in the press.

12. Collis O. Redd, the National Director of the Constitutional Vigilantes of America, in Philadelphia, wrote Florence on September 7 and stated his regret that his native state had "enacted such an asinine law of sabotage as a preventive to such an atrocious crime."

13. Stephen Rocknak, of Maspeth, New York, wrote Florence that she was "a paid common murderer." He criticized her for giving orders to take a human life.

14. M. Wistar Wood, the Secretary of The General Alumni Society of the University of Pennsylvania, wrote Florence on August 15 that "the entire country is deeply shocked by the manner in which you have permitted the execution of Beathea [sic] to be conducted." He further stated, "I certainly hope that I am voicing the sentiments of not only the 50,000 graduates and former students of this great University, but also the feelings of many times this number of educated people who have studies at other institutions throughout the United States."

15. Frances Plancek of Los Angeles wrote on August 17 that as a native Kentuckian, it made her "shudder" to think Kentucky law "allowed such a demonstration as you did at the hanging of that negro boy."

16. Mrs. L. M. Neal, of Silver Lake, Massachusetts, wrote on August 17 that she had read of the hanging in the Boston newspapers and was "horrified to think that such things could happen in our own fair country." She asked, "Are we entering the dark ages again?"

17. Mary M. A. Weiss of New York City telegrams Florence at 9:13 a.m. on August 14 and stated, "In God's name I protest reported inhuman celebration over hanging."

18. An anonymous writer from Los Angeles wrote, "You murderer, you murderer, you murderer. Remember always, you are a murderer."

19. R. C. Ospler of Huntington, West Virginia, wrote Florence on the day of the hanging and stated that he had just read of the "barbarism held in your county of half-wits last night" and that "in my opinion you are entirely to blame" because "it is in your power, as sheriff, to decide whether it is to be public or private."

20. In a letter written in calligraphy from New York City on August 14, Peter Moonce wrote several scriptures which he claimed condemned capital punishment.

21. An anonymous writer wrote, "You and your 20,000 cheering fans are the most unscruplous [sic] educated savage in the world.

22. Ellen B. Gawwach, of Berkeley, California, wrote a polite letter to Florence asking, "Isn't there something that can be done to prevent another public execution."

Not all of the letters were critical. As before, some letter writers commended Florence despite the bad press the hanging received.

1. One Owensboro citizen wrote Florence a letter with a copy of a Chicago editorial and asked Florence to write a reply to the people of Chicago to "set these Chicago people right as to the brute and savage the negro was."

2. Another postcard, written anonymously, stated, "From a white organization of the West--You are a real white woman. Stand up for the womanhood of the white race. Hang some more niggers. We are with you thousands strong. America needs such women as you."

3. Theresa Stushets, of Chicago, Illinois, wrote a three-page letter to express her "thanks" that "the monster in human form" was convicted of the rape and murder of "the young innocent girl" and that the execution would be "performed in public." She wrote, "Death is the only thing that scares those human beasts of prey and sexual perverts."

4. A short letter from Fresno, California, praised Florence for her bravery in office. The writer stated that he wished all women in office were as brave.

1. On July 7, Fred Heidbrink of Webster Grove, (state not identified), wrote Florence that he had read of how she became sheriff. He stated that he had blue eyes, light hair, was forty-four years old and that "you interest me a lot."

2. G. B. Clayton, a livestock broker in Ehrhardt, South Carolina, wrote Florence on August 19 and asked whether she would "kindly consent to correspond with me, with a view to matrimony if we are both suited." He noted that there was not much difference in their ages and that he was lonesome.

3. On October 25, Jack Jones, a barber in Montgomery, Alabama, wrote Sheriff Thompson and congratulated her on the way she conducted the execution. He said that he would send her a "little present in a few days." He said he thought she was a good looking woman and that he hoped she would write to him. The letter highly suggests that he was interested in developing a romantic relationship with Florence.

4. Only part of another letter still remains, dated August 20, in which a man wrote Florence stating that he was raised in Princeton, Kentucky. He stated that he would like Florence to write to him.

On March 22, 1935, John "Pete" Montjoy raped twenty-seven- year-old Mrs. Irene Cummings, and Montjoy was convicted by a jury on April 17, 1935. In September, the newspapers reported that Montjoy would be hanged in Covington. Reminded of the July letter she had received from Julius J. Wichser, the Chief Deputy U. S. Marshal for the District of Indiana, Sheriff Thompson wrote a letter to inform the Sheriff of Kenton County about the "possible availability" of Phil Hanna to assist him in the hanging of Montjoy. Sheriff Thompson, apparently impressed with the letter Wichser had mailed her in July, retyped an almost identical letter to the Kenton County Sheriff. Montjoy, was not actually hanged in Covington until December 17, 1937, and the hanging was conducted in private.

The Owensboro Lions Club, obviously indignant about the bad press coverage which was given Florence and Owensboro, adopted a resolution which stated as follows:

Whereas, on Aug. 14 a criminal was hanged for the most hienous [sic] crime ever committed within our county, and

Whereas, the demands of organized society, through orderly and legal processes, were carried out with dignity and precision, and

Whereas, it was the unpleasant duty of our lady Sheriff, Mrs. Florence Thompson, to see to it that said criminal be duly executed between the hours of sunrise and sunset on that day, while it was no part of her duty to actually drive a nail, tie the noose or spring the trap unless her deputies and volunteers failed her, and

Whereas, her faith in them was well founded and they did not fail her, and

Whereas, she was secreted in an automobile where she could be sure that her duty was well and faithfully performed and ready to take personal charge at any moment that it might become necessary, and

Whereas, the Owensboro Lions Club approves the dignified and lady-like conduct of Florence Thompson from the time this awful crime was committed until the law had exacted its full measure, and

Whereas, the metropolition [sic] press, news agencys [sic] and broadcasting chains sent reporters and photographers who were liars and cheaters without a drop of sporting blood in their bodies; and without regard for truth and fair-play; without regard for the feelings of others; without regard for the unusual position of Florence Thompson or her feminine sensitivities; without regard for the good name of our fair city and the good will of Kentucky abroad; without an expression of sympathy for Mrs. Edwards, the victim of this rapist and murderer; these liars, cheaters and thrillers have broadcast to the world, through radio and press, reports which are untrue, scandalous, malicious and disgraceful to our city, and repulsive to those who seek the truth.

Now therefore be it resolved that the Owensboro Lions Club go on record condemning, with all the finer emotions of mankind, the actions of those would-be reporters and news commentators. We condemn the news agencys [sic] which accepted and published those reports and the broadcasting company which radioed them to the world. We approve every action of Florence Thompson and express our deep sympathy for her in the unfair treatment she received from the representatives of an unfair portion of the press. We approve the execution of Rainey Bethea or any other man, white or black, red or brown that shall be found guilty of the crime of rape. We approve our law which makes this crime punishable by hanging in the county where it is committed, or any law calculated to protect our fine women. We pledge ourselves to protect and defend them with our lives, influence and our fortunes.

Be it further resolved that these resolutions are spread upon the book of our club and that a copy thereof be delivered to the press.

Courtney Combs

Arch Bamberger

Committee Owensboro Lions Club

An immensely affected victim of Bethea's crime was Dr. Philip R. Edwards, the son of Lischia Edwards. Philip had a particularly difficult time dealing with his mother's death. He refused to discuss the matter with anyone except those who were closest to him. In fact, his daughters were not told of the circumstances of their grandmother's death until they were adults.

Philip was otherwise quite an accomplished scholar and intellect. While earning his bachelor of science degree, he served as a laboratory assistant in bacteriology from 1921 until 1922, when he obtained his Bachelor of Science degree from the University of Kentucky, the first student to ever graduate from the university with a degree in bacteriology. He then attended Yale University, where he received a Ph.D. in bacteriology in 1925. Returning to the University of Kentucky that same year, he was appointed Assistant Bacteriologist in the Department of Veterinary Science, a position he held until 1927 when he became Bacteriologist at the Agricultural Experiment Station. That same year, he married Katherine Brewer, of Lexington, on September 20, 1927. He served as a professor of bacteriology at the University of Kentucky until 1947. He and his wife gave birth to two children, Katherine, born July 8, 1934. Shortly after his mother was murdered, a second daughter, Dorothy, was born October 12, 1937. The Edwardses lived at 730 Sunset Drive, in Lexington, and later moved to 821 Cooper Drive and remained there until 1948.

On February 14, 1948, the Board of Trustees of the University of Kentucky gave him the title, "Distinguished Professor." On July 16, 1948, he resigned his position at the University of Kentucky, effective July 31 of that year, and accepted a position in Georgia.

On May 22, 1959, the University of Kentucky awarded him an honorary "Doctor of Science."

He became chief of the U.S. Public Health Service Communicable Disease Center in Atlanta, Georgia. He was renowned for his research in food poisoning, particularly his research of botulism, a disease which is the result of eating chicken infected with the salmonella bacteria. He was praised for making such important contributions in this field that he greatly assisted American troops during World War II.

He died on May 17, 1966, at Emory University Hospital in Decatur, Georgia. After his death, on May 10, 1985, the University of Kentucky inducted him into the Hall of Distinguished Alumni, and later, into the Equine Hall of Fame.

County Judge Wilson's appointment to the position of sheriff did not last the full length of Everett's unexpired term. Section 152 of the Kentucky Constitution required that an election take place in November of 1936 in order for the voters to choose the individual they wanted to serve the unexpired term. Once elected in November, the new sheriff would serve out the term until January of 1938. Consequently, on June 27, 1936, Florence Thompson filed her petition for election as sheriff with Guy Aull, the Daviess County Clerk. In what could only be described a landslide, on November 3, 1936, Florence Thompson was elected sheriff, the final tabulation being as follows: Florence Thompson, 9811 votes; Simon B. Smith, two votes; and Tom Gall, one vote. Such a dramatic, unprecedented show of support demonstrated that the citizens of Daviess County were not offended by the fact that Florence was a woman sheriff. Indeed, everyone understood her personal situation and felt obligated to help her. Perhaps they were impressed by her abilities as sheriff when Rainey Bethea was hanged.

Sheriff Florence Thompson continued her duties as Sheriff of Daviess County until Simon B. Smith, the new sheriff, was sworn into office on Monday, January 3, 1938. Smith won the 1937 Democratic Primary with 2,507 votes, only 54 votes over his opponent, W. P. "Pack" Morris, who received 2,453 votes. Like Everett Thompson, Smith ran unopposed during the General Election, which was held November 2, 1937.

In 1939, Florence moved to 1634 West Second Street. When Simon Smith was elected Sheriff in November of 1938, he appointed Florence a deputy sheriff. Florence served a total of nine years in the sheriff's office.

On October 17, 1935, her friend Ellen Riney, the wife of J. Carl Riney, died leaving a family of children. Florence being a widow and Carl having recently become a widower, the two became increasingly fond of one another. They married in December of 1944.

She lived a quiet life in Owensboro but her condition resulting from Parkinson's Disease gradually grew worse. She received periodic relief from her condition by traveling to Dawson Springs, Kentucky, where a masseuse kneaded her weakening muscles. Her daughter, Mary Lillian, recalls that, as the disease worsened, she began to hallucinate about the hanging. Florence sometimes awoke from nightmares, dreaming of Bethea's death. With horror, she sometimes blared, "I don't want to go up those steps." Florence became quite ill in July of 1959, and she was admitted to Our Lady of Mercy Hospital in Owensboro. She remained there for twenty-one months before she died on April 13, 1961, at the age of 68. Her funeral was conducted at the St. Stephen's Catholic Cathedral by Rev. Anthony Higdon, and she was buried beside Everett in the Catholic Cemetery of Owensboro.