The unknown grave with the tiny stone

[Kindigger]

This one was a mystery to me for a long time. I had a tiny stone with no story....


Danville, Iowa-March 24th, 1913 From the Burlington HawkEye,

Mrs. William Stout, thirty one, was murdered tonight at the home of Marshall Huey where she had been working as a domestic for several months. As she worked in the kitchen, an unknown assailant pushed a shotgun between the kitchen curtains, and fired. She was found by Mrs. Huey several minutes later in a pool of blood, but was beyond human help. The load took in the back of her head, the woman died almost instantaneously.

Authorities are confident her husband, William Stout will be able to clear up this matter. Due to the late hour, and muddy roads a search for Stout will commence in the morning. Sheriff Earnest has wired Springfield Illinois for bloodhounds, and will have a well armed posse when the search commences.

.... It is though the deed was premeditated by Mr. Stout for several weeks, as he had made numerous references to such a crime. The officers are working on the theory of a hearing for divorce brought by the dead wife.

...Stout was seen in Burlington earlier in the day at a picture show. His friend stated that upon seeing a scene of a happy family come upon the screen, Stout stated that he could not watch, and left the theatre. He called on the Sutter & Gamble Store, where he had "pawned" a shotgun. Stout was a good shot, and took part in many trap-shooting tournaments. He "rented" his double-barreled hammerless gun for a dollar, promising to return it on Wednesday. He later boarded the train for Danville. Those who saw him carrying the gun, thought him to be crazed with liquour.

..... William Stout, ended his own life during the night from Monday to Tuesday, shooting the top of his head off with a shotgun, in his brother Jesse's barn, just as a posse of citizens, and farmers were preparing to renew the hunt. Jesse found his brother's body stretched on the floor of the barn. Clutched in his hand was the same weapon William had used to kill his wife. The gun had been discharged, by Stout pushing the trigger with his foot, the man taking off his shoe. The whole top of his skull was blown away.

....A letter dated March 23, was found in Stout's pocket.
"To my father Warren Stout: Two years ago next Saturday, March 11, 1911, I was a happy boy; now I'm a ruined, broken-down man. Marie has left me because her folks kept after her and made her leave me; but it will never do them any good, for they have put her into a pair of shoes that she will never do them or anyone else good....
I will quit on the subject and bid my folks good-bye; but excuse me for this, for I can't help it. I would not ask my Father for money to help me and I'm not able to work, just now, and I know Marie will never come back and I might as well go on with this deed. I'm ready to die, anyhow....
Well Papa and Mama, you will find a couple of letters in my trunk...Give little Harry my watch, and Orville my fob. Bury my fountain pen with me and leave this ring on my finger, for it is all I have got Marie gave me, and for God's sake let me take it along with me-please do. Bury me at Prairie Grove, as close to my dear little boy as possible; I love him so. Heavenly Father forgive my sins, and Marie's too. Good-bye, all of my old friends, good father and mother, dear old souls-and the boys-my dear brother, good bye.

Your oldest boy, Willie Stout
P.S. You cannot answer this letter.

*William was 26,Marie was 31. Jesse was 24, and Orville was his one year old son. Frank, my Great Grandpa (22)... Will, and Jesse's brother. Harry was one year old at the time. He was my Grandpa.

William and Marie had an infant son March 3, 1912. He lived 6 days, and died due to injuries from a forceps delivery. I don't believe he had a name. William is buried between his tiny stone, and the stone of his parents.

Jesse went on to die at age 35 of "alcoholism". Marie is buried in another cemetery with her parents.*



How tragic is that?


:cry:

[fudge stripe cookays]

1. Damn, girl!

You have got some remarkably sad stories in your history!

It sounds awful, but I've been craving anything to distinguish my many Smiths to make them easier to find-- murder stories, anything juicy-- anything at all.

But after reading your sad stories, I'm kind of glad now that I didn't.

Finding baby's graves is especially poignant. I'm so lucky that the Rock County (WI) Genealogical Society has done such a great job of publishing cemetery and other records. Tons of my Smith ancestors are buried in Clinton Cemetery in Clinton, Wisconsin.

And the great thing is, they organized the Clinton Cemetery book by plot, even listing those without stones, so I could verify that people were there. My husband and I spent a long afternoon looking for my GGgrandmother Jane Fish Smith's grave, but the book states she has no stone.

And in the plot for one of my Smith Great grandaunts (who died as a Jones), I found a stray Smith baby listed. When I sent for his death certificate, it turns out he was her brother's little boy, who was only about 5 months old.

According to a cousin from that branch, there was a traveling doctor heading through town giving smallpox vaccinations, but this little boy got a full-fledged case of smallpox and died. All we'd known about him before was the story, but had no definite data. So this book was a goldmine. I also found tons of other married names for daughters since they were married in the same plots next to their families.

FSC