Marshal B. McFadden

                                                                 Winfield.
Winfield Directory 1880.
McFadden, B., farmer, r. 12th avenue s. s. near Cherry.
                                               FROM THE NEWSPAPERS.
[WINFIELD: CITY POLITICS.]
Winfield Courier, April 7, 1881.
A great many Republicans were not satisfied with the Repub­lican nominations for city officers, and joined with the Demo­crats to nominate a citizens’ ticket. They met at the opera house on last Saturday evening and put in nomination J. B. Lynn for mayor, O. M. Seward for city attorney, T. R. Bryan for city treasurer, J. D. Pryor for treasurer of the board of education, W. E. Tansey for justice of the peace and police judge, John Moffitt and A. H. Doane for councilmen, N. L. Rigby and E. P. Kinne for members of the school board, and J. T. Quarles and B. McFadden for constables. Mr. Bryan was not present at the meeting, but it was understood that he would support the straight Republican ticket, having already accepted the nomination for city treasurer tendered him by the Republicans.
Mr. Tansey had been nominated by the Republicans for justice of the peace, but made a speech accepting the nomination of the Citizens, and enlisting to support the whole ticket, going back on the Republicans. Of course, it was inconsistent for the Republicans to keep on their ticket a candidate who was fighting the balance of the ticket, so the Republican committee met and struck off his name and placed the name of J. H. Kinney in his stead, which was eminently proper and right. E. P. Kinne was not present at the time of the Citizens meeting nor on the day of the election, but we understood him before he went that he would not accept a nomination on the Citizens ticket. N. L. Rigby posi­tively declined to be a candidate.
J. T. Hackney withdrew his name from the Republican ticket, and James Kelly was put upon the ticket for police judge in his stead. This made up the issues: as to candidates.
On Monday evening the supporters of both tickets held meetings, and speakers harangued the people. The Citizens held their meeting in the street, and used the stone steps of the Winfield Bank for a rostrum.
We did not get a report of the speakers, for we were in the other meeting: that of the republi­cans in the opera house. Of this meeting Col. C. M. Wood was chairman, and made a stirring address, which was followed by strong and pungent speeches from H. E. Asp, M. G. Troup, W. P. Hackney, and T. H. Soward.
The scathing that Mayor Lynn and Marshal Stevens got at their hands was terrible and cruel to the victims. Their admin­istration was shown up in no enviable light, and the speakers demanded a change.
[ELECTION RETURNS.]
Winfield Courier, April 7, 1881.
Winners for position of Constable (2): H. H. Siverd (majority 58) and J. T. Quarles (majority 106). Losers: J. H. Finch and B. McFadden.

Note: McFadden was not mentioned in newspapers as becoming a Night Watchman in Winfield. The following item only shows that he resigned in March 1882 and was replaced by Jolliff. Courier showed “J. B. Jolliff” and Courant showed “L. B. Jolliff.” MAW
Winfield Courier, March 9, 1882.
J. B. Jolliff is on now as night watchman, Mr. McFadden having resigned. Jolliff is a first-class responsible man, and will make an efficient officer.
Cowley County Courant, March 9, 1882.
L. B. Jolliff was last evening appointed night watchman by the Mayor, in the place of B. McFadden.
The following article indicates that full name of McFadden was B. F. McFadden.
[A. O. U. W. SOCIETY OF WINFIELD: PICNIC.]
Winfield Courier, May 18, 1882.
A Big Picnic. The A. O. U. W. Society of Winfield are making arrangements for a grand basket picnic in Riverside Park, May 25th. Twenty-five neighboring lodges have been invited, special trains will be run, and a general good time indulged in. The following committees have been appointed.
Devotional exercises: Revs. Platter and Cairns.
Reception: J. S. Mann, W. R. Davis, J. F. McMullen, C. A. Bliss.
On grounds: Wm. Hodges, A. B. Snow, B. F. McFadden, John Burroughs, S. G. Gary, Wm. Caton, T. J. Harris, D. Dix.
On music: W. C. Carruthers, B. F. Wood, G. S. Manser, Chas. Green.
On Finance: B. M. Legg, A. D. Hendricks, J. N. Harter, H. S. Silver.
On invitations: E. T. Trimble, W. J. Hodges, G. F. Corwin.
On Printing: A. B. Sykes.
The committees are hard at work perfecting arrangements, and intend making this a memorable event in the history of their Society.
[OLD VETERANS’ REUNION.]
Winfield Courier, September 7, 1882.
VETERANS OF THE LATE WAR WHO WISH TRANSPORTATION TO TOPEKA DURING THE REUNION IN SEPTEMBER, 1882.
B. McFadden, Co. D, 13 Ill.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, October 5, 1882.
COUNCIL CHAMBER, CITY OF WINFIELD, OCT. 2, 1882.
Council met in regular session, Mayor M. G. Troup presiding. Present: Councilmen Gary, Wilson, McMullen, and City Attorney Seward. In the absence of City Clerk, D. C. Beach, on motion of Gary, O. M. Seward was appointed City Clerk pro tem. Minutes of meetings of Sept. 4th and 18th, 1882, read and approved.
The following accounts were allowed and warrants ordered drawn on City Treasurer.
City Officers: $67.90.
B. McFadden, special police: $2.50.
Sandy Burge, special police: $1.25.
Jackman, special police: $.37
John Bates, special police: $.25

[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, September 18, 1884.
Owing to the absence of Councilmen McDonald and McGuire, the former in Virginia and the latter Chicago, the city government has been “all broke up” since August 4th, as far as meeting was concerned, until Monday evening last. . . .
Appointment of B. McFadden as a special police was confirmed by the council.
[ABSTRACT OF COUNTY AUDITOR’S REPORT.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 19, 1885.
B. McFadden, janitor service: $1.00.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 23, 1885.
THE OLD AND NEW! The Old City Officers Lay Aside the Robes of Office and Step Down and Out. EXECUTIVE APPOINTMENTS. City Attorney Hackney, City Clerk Buckman, and Marshal McFadden.
The new mayor and councilmen were then sworn in, composing the Council as follows:
Mayor, W. G. Graham; Councilmen first ward, W. R. McDonald and James Connor; second ward, A. H. Jennings, T. B. Myers; third ward, W. J. Hodges, G. H. Crippen; fourth ward, J. P. Baden, J. N. Harter. Councilman Crippen was unanimously elected president.
The appointments of W. P. Hackney, City Attorney; G. H. Buckman, City Clerk, and B. McFadden, Marshal, were unanimously confirmed.
[MARSHAL McFADDEN.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 23, 1885.
Marshal McFadden, there goes a dog! Has he paid his dollar yet? What? Not yet! Make out his bill and if he kicks, or even barks, kill him. Let no guilty dog escape.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 23, 1885.
Marshal McFadden, come to the front, please. Just step around the corner there and bring me that burglar—the one with the sandy complexion. Don’t bring the other four just yet. Hold on a minute! You might as well step down by the depot and get two or three of those sneak thieves, also. Guess we’d as well set the ball a rolling.
[PUT IT TO ’EM.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.
Marshal McFadden has read the riot act to our billiard hall men: that they exclude entirely from their premises all boys under eighteen. There has been a city ordinance to this effect for years, but never enforced. The billiard halls have fostered youthful custom with impunity—making their institutions the wreckers of home training. No farther violation will be tolerated. The first youth found about any of these places will bring the iron hand of the law down on the proprietor. The Marshal has also issued his dog edict. He has secured tax tags and the first dog that refuses to put up his little dollar will go to canine heaven on the first through train. City Attorney Hackney is daily turning the pages of the ordinance book, and means to animate every dead ordinance or cause its eternal banishment from the “statoots.”
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.

Whoop-’em-up! Our marshal notified our merchants to move their stock of goods inside or be fined Friday. About all the goods have gone in, and as a consequence the streets look neat and roomy. One irate merchant says he “will be           if he’ll do it!” Marshal McFadden says he will pull him if the goods are not in by nine tomorrow. Then there will be trouble—but let it come.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.
The street fakir who has been distending his vocal organs on Harter’s corner for a day or two selling two-cent hose, handkerchiefs, and “sich” was raked in yesterday evening by Marshal McFadden for using obscene language, and assessed the usual fine and costs. It would have been better if the authorities had shut both his mouth and business. This idea of licensing these itinerant shysters and frauds to sell their shoddy stuff on our streets is the worst kind of false economy. Keep them out entirely. We have merchants who handle all these articles in good quality and at reasonable prices. Why should they be robbed of legitimate trade and the people gulled? These oily-tongued peddlers are on no other than a swindling mission, and the queer thing is that people who know this will allow themselves to be taken in repeatedly. Protect the people if they won’t protect themselves is the only correct official motto. If the City Council would refuse to license any of these itinerants, their action would be heartily endorsed by every citizen—without a squeal at making up in taxation what comes from these licenses. We have good merchants. Let us protect them. Even Democratic merchants kick against a tariff for revenue only. They want protection in the highest degree.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.
Marshal McFadden has taken the star and is now the supreme guardian of our peace, health, and general happiness. He starts out well by stopping the boy billiard playing, tree-killing, stray-dogging, and other kindred evils. He will clean up the streets and alleys if it takes the hair off. Every citizen who doesn’t clean up his premises within ten days will pay the penalty before Judge Turner. Good.
[IT MEANS BUSINESS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.
Have you seen the “clean up” proclamation of Mayor Graham? If you have, the quicker you heed it, the better. Don’t wait for Marshal McFadden to punch you up. Clear your alleys and back yards of their “excrementiousness” immediately. (We found this word wrapped up in an old coat left in the office two or three weeks ago by a tramp printer.) It will breed disease. Burn up the old boots, shoes, and socks. Gather up the old tin cans and rubbish and dump them somewhere out—out of sight. Disinfect the outhouses; clean up the corrals and stables, and strew the fragrant promoter of vegetation over the garden wall, where it will cause the perfumed and bald-headed onion and one-eyed pea to grow stronger and hearty. In other words, prepare for the cholera morbus and dysentery season.
[CON ARTISTS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.
A CONFIDENCE GAME. A Young Man Gets Taken In Last Week For the Bulk of His Pile.

Edward Johnson came in last Thursday from Coffeyville and put up at the Lindell Hotel. Wednesday two young fellows came into the same hotel and registered as R. M. Moll, Arkansas City, and James Blackerley, Harper, and took rooms. Thursday the three were in the office. Blackerley took a coin holder from his pocket and after fumbling it in his hand a few minutes, put a copper cent in and went to put the holder in his pocket as he started off. But it dropped to the floor, the cent rolling out. Moll was sitting by and said: “Here, mister, you have dropped your coin box.” “That’s so,” said Blackerley. “Thanks. I’ve got a copper in that—just put it in.” The copper was still lying on the floor, and Moll said, “No, you haven’t.” “I’ll bet you twenty dollars I have,” replied Blackerley. Moll nudged Johnson, saying, “I’ve ten dollars; you put in ten and we’ll bet him, just for fun; there lies the copper.” Johnson antied up the ten dollars. The box was opened and a cent produced. Blackerley grabbed the money from Moll and lit out. Moll consoled Johnson for a few moments till opportunity offered and he also departed. Johnson was something of a “greenie,” only had ten dollars left and was so excited he couldn’t give any accurate description of the fellows. Marshal McFadden ran Moll in, but when he came to hunt up the main witness, he found that Johnson had left on the S. K. for the western counties, where he had relations, a very sad lad. Johnson just had money enough left to get to his destination and wouldn’t stay to prosecute. Of course, nothing could be done with the workers of the racket. Everything shows that they are working the game as a profession.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 30, 1885.
The old Marshal was ordered to file his final report, and Marshal McFadden’s bond approved.
E. Dockson was granted the privilege of numbering the houses of the city, on the Decimal system.
The Marshal was directed to enforce the ordinance keeping every obstruction off the streets and sidewalks, leaving but three feet next to buildings for use of occupants. This is business and should have been done long ago.
Mayor’s proclamation ordered regarding sanitary condition of city, giving all ten days in which to clean up their premises and alleys. If not done at this expiration, the cold hand of the law to be laid upon them.
An ordinance was passed for the protection of trees and shrubbery in private grounds and public parks. This makes tenants liable for the destruction of any trees or shrubbery, and sanctions the arrest of anybody that may come along and mar your adornments.
The City Clerk was instructed to furnish the Marshal with a list of head tax.
[WINFIELD JUVENILES.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, May 7, 1885.
A JUVENILE JAMES GANG. Four Winfield Kids Start Out To Follow the Wake of Frank and Jesse James.

A nest of youthful would-be desperadoes has just been discovered in this city that is another frightful example of what comes from allowing boys to “just grow up,” without any parental training. This little gang was composed of Frank Kretser, leader, Thomas Gill, second man, and Hansen and Willie Olmstead, anxious followers. Neither of the boys are over twelve years old. Thomas’ friskiness is absolutely unparalleled. He is an ex-boot black of St. Joe, and says he blacked Jesse James’ boots many a time while Jesse was in St. Joe under the name of Chas. Howard, just before his assassination. “If I’d knowed he was Jesse James, my name would uv been Git there Ell, an’ instead of blackin’ his boots I’d a skipped.” Frank Kretser and Thomas were thorough James students—they had poured over the lives of the desperadoes and determined to duplicate them. Thomas was turned over to the hospitality of the Hotel de Finch from Justice Snow’s court for complicity in stealing two dollars a few weeks ago from the money drawer of the Lindell Hotel—holding him as a witness in the District Court against the darkey who put him up to stealing the money. He ran around at will, however. He was caught in further deviltry the other night—in a covered wagon in an alley in South Winfield, surrounded by thirteen undressed chickens. The wagon had been standing there a week, during which time the four boys above named, under their elected leader, Kretser, had used it as a den in which to prepare the festive fowls, brought in on their nocturnal hen roost forages, for the market. The father of Thomas Gill caught them. All got away but Thomas, who was marched off to the Sheriff’s office, the father having more faith in official influence than in his own. Thomas gave the whole thing away. The boys were professional petty thieves. Everything they could get hold of was appropriated, concealed, and when opportunity afforded, were disposed of. He took Marshal McFadden to a place in the north part of town and dug a four-tined pitchfork and other articles out of a manure pile, where they had been awaiting disposal at some second hand or other store. The chicken racket was only a few nights old. A few nights ago they armed themselves with razors and prepared for a bold dash. They took a good horse from a stable near the S. K. depot, the four straddled him, and started to decamp. But before they got to the mounds, one of the kids fell off and broke his wrist. He set up a fearful yell and the boys all caved, took the horse back to the stable, and gave up the job. They are all tough cases—especially Frank and Thomas. The former is the son of a widow. These two will likely go to the State Reform School, where there will be some show of bringing them out. The others seem to have been led into the game and will likely get off. The two leaders are now in the county bastille. All the boys are unusually bright—with native talents most promising. But the experiences of a street gamin are not conducive to anything but deviltry. They want to be put in school, cleaned up, and made to think they are as capable of good things as anybody. This done, they will come out all right yet—make useful and honorable men.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, May 7, 1885.
Some of the boys were on a big “high” Friday—got too much “wine of tar,” that wonderful panacea for the ills and pains of life. It gave each of their pockets a seventeen dollar and a half pain. Marshal McFadden came down on them with his weather eye.
[BURGLARS CAUGHT!]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, May 14, 1885.
A BULLET SERENADE. Our Officials Beard the Party Burglars in Their Den and Converse Through the Pistol Medium.

Winfield has been infested for some time past with some lazy whelps who make their living by nocturnal visits to residences and business houses, without invitation, appropriating anything they could get. Our officials have tried every way to locate them, but failed until last night. Marshal McFadden had been shadowing two heavily built, burly and poorly dressed individuals for several days as they perambulated our famous sidewalks with an I-wonder-who-we’ll-tackle-next expression, and determined that they had taken rooms for the night in the First Ward school building, the lock of one window of which was broken. Sheriff McIntire and Marshal McFadden therefore shortened the ideal castle about nine o’clock. The Sheriff entered the hall while the Marshal watched the eight windows of the north wing. But the Sheriff had no light and a “grope in the dark” was not very rapid. The festive burglars tried to exit through a window, but the Marshal stood them off with his gun. Dr. Park happened along, and, taking him to be one of the gang, the Marshal pulled down on him. The Doctor at once confessed his identity and was dispatched to the jail to get a little light to throw on the subject. The flash of a lantern in the building made the burglars desperate, and, watching an opportunity, piled headlong out of a window in the darkness. The Marshal immediately opened fire on them. The first shot brought one of the fellows to the earth, but he got to his feet and then ensued a race for life. The Marshal emptied his “gun”—six shots—but the darkness was too much of a shield, and the fleet burglar got away. Tom Herrod was all this time following up the other disciple of the jimmy. Starting a considerable distance behind, his two shots were ineffective. One of them went so “wild” as to go through the wall of Alex. Graham’s house, corner of Eighth avenue and Platter street, passed within a foot of Alex.’s head, and lodged in the stove. The chase had to be given up fruitlessly. But a very bloody trace was found this morning near M. L. Robinson’s residence, proving that some of Marshal McFadden’s shots hit the mark. The sidewalk was sprinkled with blood all along, and our officials are certain of yet running in the victims.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, May 14, 1885.
Tom H. Herrod objects to our making him the wild shootist in last Friday night’s pistol serenade. He says the ball that went through Alex. Graham’s house wasn’t shot by him: the direction and size indicating that it came from Marshal McFadden’s “gun.” The Marshal also declares that it wasn’t him, and other officials say it couldn’t have been them, for they were clear out of range. The only man left seems to be the burglar. As soon as our reporter can gain an interview with the disciple of the jimmy, THE DAILY COURIER will accurately and speedily inform its readers whose “gun” committed the bold break. Until then, be “azy.”
[WAX IT TO ’EM.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, May 14, 1885.
Marshal McFadden, now that the lenience of the mayor’s “clean up” proclamation has expired, is preparing to make war on the owners of filthy premises. The high and low, the rich and poor, who don’t come up to the rack will be served alike—taken before Judge Turner for an assessment. But don’t give the marshal a chance to do this. Grab time by the top-knot and disinfect the privy vaults, haul off the dead cats, pigs, etc. The time of year for cholera, “fever-nager,” summer complaint, hay fever and spring fever is nearly upon us and our houses not in order. Clean up, burn the trash, make your back yards as clean as your front. Clean out your wells and air up your cellar, or your days will be few in the land and tax-paying time will find you dead or disabled.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 4, 1885.

Marshal McFadden initiated one of the new ordinances Thursday morning. It says that no professionally “soiled dove” can appear on the streets. One did appear on the street—and before Judge Turner. She was released on condition that she shake the dust of the city from her boots within twelve hours. Otherwise she will find a very thorny path hereabouts.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 11, 1885.
Pork took another drop Thursday. Mr. Siler, residing on east 10th avenue, harbored a porcupine worth $3.50 in violation of the “statoots,” and paid the usual fine and costs. He was under the impression that he was outside of the city limits. Marshal McFadden is determined to enforce the laws of the city rulers, and run every hog and quagmire out of the town. Business!
[MURDER OF MRS. R. H. WHITE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 11, 1885.
MURDER MOST FOUL! Mrs. White’s Skull Crushed in by a Flat-Iron or Ax While Lying in Bed! THE DEMON UNKNOWN! A Parallel to the Quarles Tragedy, With Results More Deep and Despicable.
THE STORY OF THE HORRIBLE AFFAIR. Monday night between one and two o’clock, a tragedy was enacted almost the simile of the one in which Mrs. Anna Quarles was the victim, a few months ago. But its results are even more mysterious and horrible! In company with Dr. Emerson, a COURIER reporter visited the scene at eight o’clock this morning. On the bank of Timber creek, just north of Tom Johnson’s residence and near Frank Manny’s Brewery, is a little box house, 10 x 12, with pasteboard roof, papered cracks, and no windows. On entering this crude house a sickening sight met our gaze. Lying on a hay bed, and surrounded by circumstances indicating almost poverty, was the victim of this tragedy. The face, neck, hair, and bed clothing were covered, and the throat and lungs filled, with blood. The whole skull over her right eye was crushed in, exposing the brain and presenting a terrible sight. Mrs. R. H. White was only mechanically breathing, expected to pass unconsciously away at any moment. Just back of her lay the baby, a nice looking little girl of two years, calmly sleeping. The other child, a little girl of five, had been taken to Mrs. Tom Johnson’s. At the foot of the bed stood the husband, and around the house was a crowd, anxious to learn the particulars.
THE PREMISES. The furniture in the house is in harmony with the shell containing it. It is very meager, consisting of a small cooking stove, three wooden bottom chairs, a few dishes, mostly tin, a rude bedstead, with hay tick and pillows, and a small home-made table. No signs of a struggle were visible, excepting the print of a bloody hand on the round of chair that sat just under her head, as she was found. Sheriff McIntire and Marshal McFadden were early on the ground, and found suspicious footprints. They indicated a number nine boot or shoe and that the party had come up from the west and had looked through a large knot hole in the wall, supposedly to see who was in the room. This was the only trace that could be found. The blow was undoubtedly struck with a flat iron or an ax. The gap commences in the middle of the right forehead and runs diamond shape above the temple and into the hair. The skull bone was broken into splinters and taken out piece by piece by Drs. Graham and Emerson, who at once pronounced the injury fatal. The bones removed, a ghastly sight was revealed in the deep cavity: a mixture of blood and brain.
[THE TOUGHEST CASE YET.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 18, 1885.

An individual was run in by Marshal McFadden, near Manny’s, Thursday, who was the hardest looking man ever beheld in these parts. He looked as though he hadn’t tampered with a table in many moons, and his whole form exhibited a terrible struggle with a protracted drouth. His “duds” were buttonless tatters—the little end of nothing boiled down. On his head was a dude hat whose crown resembled a very holy sieve, and his feet were wrapped up in very ragged rags—his toes even worn through the rags. He was arrested under the ordinance prohibiting dudes the freedom of the city. Judge Turner found that the fellow was not in the city limits when arrested, and discharged him. The crowd in the court room carried a motion to donate him to Burden. The Marshal conducted him beyond the mounds and told him to “git.” He called himself John Davidson and didn’t know whether he was afoot on horseback. He was a simple minded tramp whose abusive habits had made an imbecile. He was about thirty years of age.
[YOU MUST CLEAN UP!]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 18, 1885.
An immense and very odorous manure pile, in the south part of the city, was the subject of Judge Turner’s attention yesterday. Its owner, A. Lawrence, was assessed $12.50, and commanded to move the nuisance at once. There were only forty-five loads the pile. It was on a lot partly cultivated, and he hoped to use it as a fertilizer after awhile, but it got mad and tried to run everybody in the neighborhood out. Marshal McFadden is relentless and you had better take warning and clean up or your days of peace “will be scarce,” and tax paying time will find you often.
[MURDER OF MRS. R. H. WHITE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 18, 1885.
RATHER STRANGE. Among the strange things of the White tragedy of last week is the fact that no letters of inquiry, no word of any kind, has been received from her people excepting the two first telegrams reported in THE COURIER. The evening the victim died Marshal McFadden telegraphed the father at Vienna, Illinois, “Julia is dead. Bob is in jail for the murder,” but not a breath has come in answer. The first telegram came, “collect,” indicating that her people are in poor circumstances.
[MURDER OF MRS. R. H. WHITE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 25, 1885.
MRS. WHITE’S FATHER HEARD FROM. Marshal McFadden has received a letter from Mrs. Julia Ann White’s father, D. H. Rendleman, Goreville, Johnson County, Illinois, dated June 11th. It says: “I received a dispatch from you on the 10th, stating that Mrs. White was dead and her husband in jail for the murder. Send me the facts as near as you can get them. See White and ask him what he wants done with the children. I want the children if I can get them. Tell me whether Julia was decently buried or not, and if the expenses are paid. Look after White’s things and see that the children are well cared for, and I will pay you for your trouble.”
[AN ESCAPED LUNATIC.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 25, 1885.

THE COURIER mentioned, a few evenings since, the appearance of a wicked looking tramp in the south part of town, with a bowie knife and revolver strapped around him and a wild expression. He frightened the whole neighborhood terribly. All were afraid to have him in the house, and none would feed him, and he dug up and ate raw potatoes. He has been seen several times since and seems to have a rendezvous in the woods of the Walnut, near the stone, brick, and tile yards. Our officials have been laying for him, but he only comes out at night and can’t be caught. Wednesday Marshal McFadden received the following card, describing this fellow exactly.
“Left the Topeka Insane Asylum June 9th, M. L. Felkner, aged 29. He is six feet high, well proportioned, pleasant looking with light hair and eyes, heavy tawny moustache. He had on a brown coat and vest, and light pants and felt hat. He is a little lame in right foot. He had so much improved that he had liberty of the grounds, and in casually meeting people, would not readily show his insanity. If he is seen in your neighborhood, telegraph or write me at once and detain him if practical. B. D. Eastman, Superintendent.”
Our officials are laying for him, and will capture him if possible. Having endured hunger and exposure for nearly two weeks, he must be pretty wild, and will likely be hard to arrest. He evidently has the weapons ready for service. There is no doubt in the minds of all who have seen him that he is this escaped lunatic.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 25, 1885.
Marshal McFadden arrested Robert N. Farnsworth, Tuesday, on a charge of selling intoxicating liquors in his Ninth Avenue lunch room. He gave bond and his case comes up in the Police Court Thursday.
[THE ESCAPED LUNATIC BOUNCED LAST NIGHT.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, June 25, 1885.
Our reporter, in company with Marshal McFadden, Assistant Marshal Glandon, and Dan Farnsworth went out Sunday after the lunatic. The reporter is a man who delights in blood curdling affairs. This was one of them. His blood hasn’t warmed up yet. They first took in the vacant stone house near the Santa Fe depot. The reporter was cautioned to keep a sharp look out for the victim while the others searched the house. He done so—you bet. He expected to see a monster in human shape emerge from the cellar window every moment, and, consequently, had his pistol leveled. After the search was over, it occurred to him he had better cock it and have it ready. The search revealed a hay bed, a lantern, and all the signs of someone sleeping there. The cars were taken in next, the reporter, holding his cocked revolver and taking good care not to get in a direct line with the open door. The officers poked their heads into each car in a very careless manner. The reporter admonished them frequently to put their feet in first, as there was not so much danger; or better still, to get under the car and inquire if there was anybody in. In several of the cars were seen the remains of the lunatic’s bed and all the appearances of his being there lately, and the reporter shook in the knees. Going south we saw some object leaning up against a car. The reporter shook in dead earnest now. The officers pulled their shooting irons. The reporter pulled his and tried to cock it, but didn’t know how. Reaching the object, it was Tom Wright. He was all broke up. This is his story.

“Boys, I’ve seen him. I saw a fellow come along here awhile ago. He was in rags and he was a hard looking bat. He had a revolver strapped around him and a bowie knife six feet long. Says I, ‘Say, Mr.’; he walked on. ‘Say, Mr.’ says I; he walked on. I stepped toward him and said, ‘Mr., I want to see you.’ He turned around and came towards me with a savage glare overspreading his face. Says I, ‘Excuse me, Mr., I thought you were another man. You ain’t the man I was looking for.’”
After searching several cars and just as we were nearing another, a man was seen to jump from a car and put out. We took after him. Farnsworth was on one side of the line of cars and the reporter on the other, both running for dear life, the cold chills creeping over the reporter at every jump. The reporter mistook Farnsworth for the lunatic and would have put an end to his mortal existence, but as usual in time of danger, his pistol wasn’t cocked and he could not cock it in time to do any damage before Mr. Farnsworth was recognized. A quilt was found which the lunatic had dropped in his flight. The man was seen several times yesterday, once with a bucket of green apples and a raw chicken. We will suggest to him that this is very dangerous food this time of year. He will be taken in sooner or later. The officers are after him red hot. Yesterday twenty or more scoured the timber near the river but could find no traces. An ordinary man would have been taken in long ago, but a crazy man has all the cunning of a fox besides he has so many excellent hiding places in the part of town he haunts. We apprehend he will be a hard case to tackle and that someone will get hurt in doing so.
[ENTIRELY TOO PRECIOUS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 2, 1885.
The lunatics have evidently been informed that our imbecile asylum is nearing completion and are rounding up here to reserve rooms. We will state right here that it won’t be done for several months, and those desirous of entering its portals will please keep “scarce.” A lunatic was run in by Marshal McFadden last night. He is the same ragged end of humanity who was picked up here a few weeks ago, near Manny’s brewery, and turned loose because he was found outside of the city limits and therefore beyond the jurisdiction of the dude ordinance. The armed-to-the-teeth lunatic is still at large. The ladies are organizing a posse and will likely make a speedy capture. But the individual raked in last night was the hardest looking piece of humanity that eyes ever beheld. His clothes were worse than the little end of nothing. His frame had endured absolute drouth for many moons, and it carried several quarter sections of real estate—regular black loam. Before putting him in the jail, the water works, three or four men with brushes and eighteen bars of electric soap were turned loose on him for several hours. Then he was clothed new, his hair combed, and several inches cut from each of his finger and toe nails. The transformation was wonderful: making him a regular dude. A gentleman from near Oxford, who used to work in the Topeka Insane Asylum, says this fellow is an escaped inmate. He had seen him there often. The fellow is a perfect imbecile—don’t know whether he’s afoot or horseback, can’t tell his name or where he came from. He looks as harmless as a kitten. The asylum officials will be notified to come and get him. He was an aimless wanderer, eating any rubbish he could catch. He has no resemblance to the description sent out for Felkner, the wild and wooly lunatic.
[ANOTHER TRAGEDY.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 2, 1885.

The report of a pistol, a howl, a child’s scream, then all was quiet, and a tragedy had been enacted in broad daylight, on South Loomis street. Men, women, and children in the immediate neighborhood soon gathered and gazed with awe on the weltering victim where he had fallen. Women, eager and curious to have a “peep,” worked their way through the crowd, said “ugh!” and passed out. As the corpse was being hurriedly removed from sight, a small boy shouted, “there he goes!” as a resolute man tried to edge calmly away. At once he was the cynosure of all eyes. “He killed him!” cried the small boy again, and the murderer was collared by strong arms. “Your name!” sternly interrogated one of the capturers, as THE COURIER reporter grabbed his tablet and faber to take the man’s pedigree. “He—he was a dangerous character, gentlemen—sure to hurt somebody, so I took the law into my hands and killed him! Said the murderer, with tremulous voice. “It is well,” replied those in charge. “You are free.” The crowd looked satisfied, the man smiled, and the small boys said, “He’s a daisy!” Marshal McFadden was the assassin. Mr. Frazee is minus a dog. The animal took a fit, everybody thought he had the hydrophobia, and the marshal was sent for. He was wallowing in the yard in slimy froth and was immediately dispatched to dog heaven. And the world still wags. The mad dog season is upon us and it will be well to dispatch, just like this, every cur that has signs of phobia.
[NOT GUILTY, SIR.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 2, 1885.
Robert Farnsworth, who was arrested the other day for selling intoxicants in his Ninth Avenue lunch room, had his trial in Police Court Thursday and was found innocent. A dozen or more witnesses swore that he kept nothing but sweet cider—that wouldn’t intoxicate a chicken. The man who told Marshal McFadden that he would swear to having got stuff there that made him drunk testified that he drank sweet cider there and it made him sick. The facts of the case are that this fellow had been drinking alcohol, used in his vocation, put sweet cider on top of it, and the mixture upset him. All who know Bob discredited this charge from the start. He has always shown himself to be an honest, enterprising man—always acting on the square. He has taken an active part, too, in every public enterprise that has been advanced.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 2, 1885.
Marshal McFadden disturbed the slumbers of George McFarland and Jennie Gasoway, at one of our hotels Tuesday, and they now languish in durance vile. They hail from southern Cowley. They were registered as man and wife, but the “statoots” will likely contradict.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 2, 1885.
Marshal McFadden cares not for king nor potentate—all must be served alike. Will Hudson’s fine gray steed was found lariated across the street and sidewalk Monday, and was brought before Judge Turner to the tune of $12.25. A nuisance on the premises of W. L. Morehouse, back of Spotswood & Wallace’s store, also received $12.25 of the Judge’s attention. The dignity of the “statoots” must be vindicated.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 9, 1885.
Bill paid: B. McFadden, burying dogs, $4.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 9, 1885.

A man appeared here yesterday from Arkansas City with froth in his mouth and two navy revolvers in his belt. He was mad, and thirsted for b-l-o-o-d. His wife had run away with a handsomer man. Marshal McFadden invited him to lay off his revolvers while under the canopy of our city, which he did. The fellow swore, by all that was bad and unholy, that he would kill the male eloper the first time he “set” eyes on him.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 9, 1885.
Marshal McFadden is making it sultry for dogs that refuse to put up the city tax: $1 for males and $5 for females. Several have already been brought before Judge Turner to the tune of $12.25.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 9, 1885.
E. A. Maybee had a dog—a $5 female dog. He tried his best to give the animal away, but not until Marshal McFadden and Judge Turner got their work in to the tune of $10 did anyone come along to relieve Mr. Maybee of his “dorg.” The Marshal gives notice that any man who don’t walk up to Treasurer Pryor and “whack up” the tax on his canine, will be hauled up before the Captain as soon as found, with absolutely no leniency. Those hitching stock across the sidewalk or in the street will be treated ditto. Our dog is dead and our old cow has strayed off. We are doggoned happy.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 16, 1885.
Marshal McFadden and Night Watchmen Glandon and Beck took in the town nocturnally Sunday, raking in six tramps at the S. F. depot and two at the S. K. Six of them were in horrible shape, nearly eaten up by disease and unable to work. They were turned out today and made to “git.”
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 16, 1885.
Tom Wright and Bob Fleming, a colored boy of eighteen, were brought before Judge Turner by Marshal McFadden and were assessed $7.75 each for pugilism. Tom put up, and the darkey is out of the “jug” on bond.
[TALLY ONE FOR WINFIELD.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 23, 1885.
City Marshal Fisher, of Wellington, came over here Saturday. Being a little belated, he attempted to go back on the special carrying the soldiers west, but he only got as far as the water tank, when he was bounced. Our city marshal, McFadden, who is always upon the alert to take in any straggler, came across Marshal Fisher and took him in notwithstanding Fisher’s explanations, but after showing up his credentials he was let go. Hereafter Marshal Fisher will look out how he is fooling around in the “rhubarbs.”
[POLICE DOING.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 30, 1885.
Dr. H. J. Downey’s trial before Judge Turner Wednesday, on charge of intoxication, resulted in his acquittal. He brought witnesses to prove that he visited the house of the “females” mentioned, professionally, one of them being very sick. He threatens to make things very warm for Marshal McFadden for this “malicious arrest.” The Marshal presented some pretty good evidence yesterday to prove his charge, and is taking the matter very easy without much fear of the law’s cold grip on himself. Our Marshal done nothing more than what he considered his duty—what his oath binds him to do. The women in the case are also threatening our Marshal with a damage suit for bringing “slander” on their household, by the Doctor’s arrest in their house. It is all wind, of course.

[DR. CRABTREE ARRESTED.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 30, 1885.
THE SALEM P. O. IRREGULARITY. Dr. Crabtree Takes His Arrest Calmly and Gives Bond. Sympathy Largely in his Favor.
Marshal McFadden, with a U. S. warrant in his garments for the arrest of Dr. Crabtree, charged with burning the New Salem Post-office, went to Salem on the S. K. train Thursday and took the Doctor in custody. Dr. Crabtree was a little nervous when the warrant was read to him, but as the arrest became noised around and his friends crowded around in large numbers, his deep concern took a much lighter turn. The bond required was $2,000, and the Doctor, though a number at New Salem offered to go on his bond, got in a buggy with the Marshal and went to Burden, where he was formerly in business. The news of the intended arrest had preceded them in THE DAILY COURIER, and when they reached Burden, the buggy was soon surrounded by sympathizing friends. Sim S. Moore was secured as bondsman and at 10 o’clock the three came to Winfield, the bond was accepted, and spending the night at the hotel, the Doctor and Mr. Moore returned this morning. Sympathy sees to be very largely in favor of the Doctor. His friends strongly protest his innocence, claiming that he was at Burden attending Lodge, leaving Burden too late to get home by the time the fire caught. Several parties, however, say they will swear to having seen him enter the building but a short time before the fire. The agent of the insurance company was looking the matter up also. The arrest will, of course, stop the payment of insurance till after the case is settled. The interest in the case among the Doctor’s acquaintances is very warm. His examination is set for next Tuesday before U. S. Commissioner Webb.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 30, 1885.
UNCLE SAM’S GRIP. Dr. Crabtree Arrested for Burning the New Salem Post Office. Crookedness Unearthed.
Major John M. Crowell, U. S. post-office inspector, has been at New Salem several days examining into the late post-office burning at that place. He found sufficient evidence to warrant the arrest of Dr. Crabtree, deputy postmaster and owner of the building, for firing the building and post-office property. Deputy U. S. Marshal Rarick couldn’t be reached and the U. S. warrant was put in Marshal McFadden’s hands; and he went over Thursday to serve it. Crabtree had just put $1,500 insurance on the building and stock, and it is supposable that he burned the building for this insurance, thereby laying himself liable to feel Uncle Sam’s iron grip for destroying U. S. mail and property.
[LOVE’S ROUGH DREAM.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 30, 1885.
A Cowley County Marriage With a Modern Romance. The License Lost.

That “the course of true love never runs smoothly” is being daily evidenced. Two “souls with but a single thought,” and that bent on matrimony, dispatched a bosom friend from Floral yesterday afternoon to seek the presence of the Probate Judge for a marriage document, to return on the evening train, when, as the evening twilight came o’er the earth, the words of double blessedness would be pronounced. The hours flew by, twilight, darkness, midnight, and morning came, and yet no man with the document of blissful authority. The preacher was on hand, as per agreement, the relatives and friends were there with happy smiles, high expectancy, and wedding cake. The young man got nervous, and fell into the arms of his mother-in-law exhausted with disappointment, while the sweetly costumed bride said, “Ain’t it awful! What in the world can be the matter!!” But the moments only grew heavier and the guests retired, without any wedding cake under their pillows. The “happy couple” were excited—the young lady shocked, and the young man mad. This morning they determined to ferret out the mystery and boarded a wagon to run down the marriage license. Arriving here, the search began. The agent had come to town, swallowed some doctor’s prescriptions and druggists’ statements and ran pell mell into Marshal McFadden’s arms and the bastille, during which time the license, early procured, was lost. What a dilemma! The anxious couple were now thoroughly imbued with the belief that their friends, the world, and the devil were bound to head them off, and accordingly hied themselves into the presence of Judge Gans, with heavy countenances and far-away look, and importuned him as to what to do. The Judge arranged matters for the ceremony and the young folks’ faces beamed great beams of sunshine. Then in stepped a man with document in hand—a stranger who had found the license. The ceremony was pronounced and the queerest little romance of the age had its sequel. The New Salem preacher possibly sees the really dark side of it.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, July 30, 1885.
Marshal McFadden has been raking in the occupation tax for a day or two past and reports no trouble. All put up without half the “cussing” that was predicted by the chronic croakers.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, August 6, 1885.
B. McFadden, burying dogs, $1.50.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, August 13, 1885.
Marshal McFadden took in a couple of young tramps one night recently. They were evidently in the first stages of trampdom and didn’t look so very bad. An inventory, by the marshal, of their worldly goods showed two “guns,” a twelve dollar watch and chain, and six dollars in lucre. This pile they laid at the shrine of Judge Turner as recompense for the concealed weapon charge. The Judge took the “guns” and watch, paid the marshal and city attorney their cash fees, and the tramps departed, to return in a few minutes with, “Say, mister, there is an engraved dollar on that watch chain that my sister gave me. Can’t I have it!” The Judge looked at it and answered, “Yes,” and the tramps departed happy. This is the straight of the sympathetic tale a man with more mouth than brains tells on the streets, making out a false charge of concealed weapons and that our officials took everything on top of green earth the poor tramps had, even refusing to return a gold dollar watch charm given the tramp by his dying mother. Our officials carry out the law, but in doing so exhibit no brutish greed or cruelty.
[CAUGHT WITH WIFE NUMBER TWO!]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, August 13, 1885.
AN UNFAITHFUL HUSBAND. After a Year’s Ignorance as to His Whereabouts, His Wife and Daughter Cage Him in Winfield With Wife Number Two.

Thursday Mrs. George Bethel arrived here from near Cherryvale, and hunting up Marshal McFadden, put him on the track of her run away husband. She was accompanied by one of her five children, a daughter of fourteen. She is a good looking lady of forty-five and her daughter quite winsome. About a year ago her husband suddenly decamped, leaving her to care for the family the best she could. They had previously got along all right and she couldn’t tell what was up. It hadn’t occurred to her that a woman was the cause until she received word from Winfield that he was keeping house here with a woman he represented as his wife. This exasperated her and she determined to run him down, and thus her arrival. Our marshal had little trouble in ferreting out the unlicensed couple, and Thursday evening, leaving the mother and daughter a block away, bombarded the house, near the Santa Fe elevator, and without any trouble proceeded to march Bethel and wife number two to the portals of the bastille. Stopping where the mother and daughter were in ambush, the Marshal introduced Bethel to his deserted companion, and then he realized the true animus of the box he was in. The meeting was as chilly as an iceberg. Scarcely a word was said and soon the iron door of the jail shut the criminal couple in. Mrs. Bethel instituted suit this morning in the District Court and Frank W. Finch was appointed receiver, taking charge of Bethel’s three horses, $140 in the bank, and other property he had. The unlawful mistress was one Lotta Bennett, thirty-five years old and said to be a professional soiled dove. Mrs. Bethel is grit from the word go and determined to put her adulterous husband and his “soiled” female through to the bitter end. Bethel is about fifty-five years old and several of his children, by his deserted wife, are married and have families. He had been here about three weeks. The affair doesn’t seem to “break him up” to any alarming degree, but is proving a severe test to his outraged wife.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, August 27, 1885.
Marshal McFadden has his hands full now—having the street work since Street Commissioner Cochran resigned. Two hundred and twenty-two men still owe poll tax. The Marshal will give them one legal notification only, and if they don’t come up, will put the law to them. Whack up, or hire somebody to do your day’s work.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 3, 1885.
A couple of the dusky families of the south part of town are into each others wool: making things very sultry. The “younguns” were the onslaughting parties. The old heads took up the cudgel and hades was to pay yesterday afternoon. Stove-wood, pokers, bedsteads, and every available weapon about the place held high carnival on dusky heads. Marshal McFadden and Assistant McLain had to fly to the rescue, and if things are not quieter on the Potomac, the police court will have another family case.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 3, 1885.
Mike Cogan and Albert Helman were raked in by Marshal McFadden Tuesday morning in a state of booziness. Mike got $12.25 and Albert got off on plea of not guilty.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 3, 1885.
Mr. W. J. Whitford died Tuesday, at his home on South Main. He was about sixty years of age and leaves a second wife, aged thirty-five, and several young children by her, with three grown sons and a son-in-law residing here. The old man has been a city charge for several years, totally neglected by his sons. He was buried this afternoon by the city under charge of Marshal McFadden, Elder Myers conducting appropriate ceremonies.

[MURDER OF MRS. R. H. WHITE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 3, 1885.
R. H. White, the terrible murder of whose wife shook up Cowley a few months ago, is again heard from. He writes to Marshal McFadden from Sharon, Barbour County, asking numerous questions. “Have you heard anything more of the bloody negro?” says White. “Do you know where he is and where is his wife and what she says about it?” Governor Martin told me he had some posters containing his proclamation offering $300 reward for the apprehension of and conviction of the murderer of my wife. Have you seen any posted up in Winfield? Has it ever been published in the papers? The officials seem to be working in the negro’s favor. I don’t know their object, unless they have been bought by the negro’s friends.” Then he goes on with a lot of driveling criticism—the most convicting thing that has yet appeared. It shows a haunted mind, that has a subject imbedded there that will not down, and he sees no good in anybody—his liver appears to be on a strike. The rewards offered by the Governor and the County Commissioners have been widely published, and our officials, without blate or blow, have hunted down every clue, to find them thin specters that always vanish under investigation, like the bloody negro business. There was never anything of it—only a ghastly get up of a morbid public.
[A QUEER FRACAS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 3, 1885.
Hugh McLain, a native of the Emerald Isle, was up before Judge Turner Monday for an assault on Albert Elman, a fellow Irishman. Three sons of Erin were in the same room at the Lindell Saturday night. Hugh was considerably boozed, and about twelve o’clock hauled himself from his couch and began to pound Albert, lying in another bed with another man. Picking up the unmentionable portion of bed room prerequisites, he soared it high in the air over Albert’s head, as he laid on the bed. A crash, a splash, cussing that would sicken the common vocabulary, mingled with an odor betokening war. Albert was furious and Hugh was making another grab for his weapon when Marshals McFadden and McLain appeared on the scene and quelled the disturbance. The landlord was the maddest of all. Hugh paid $12.25 for his fun, languishing in the bastille over Sunday. Of all fights, this one took the pot.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 10, 1885.
Marshal McFadden took in one A. C. Anderson Sunday, and lodged him in the bastille, arrested on a telegram from K. C., wanting him for some serious misdemeanor. Just before arrested, he sold a fine $10 gold band ring to a boy on the street for $3. The marshal telegraphed his arrest, and will hold him for an answer.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 10, 1885.
A. C. Anderson, whom Marshal McFadden arrested on suspicion of being the perpetrator of deviltry in Kansas City, was turned out of jail last evening. He was arrested on a descriptive telegram, and the marshal wired his capture at once. Waiting in vain a day and a half for an answer to the telegram, the prisoner had to be released. Last evening the marshal got a telegram saying “hold him till I arrive: right man.” The telegram was signed by a K. C. official. Very lively official, that: expecting McFadden to hold a man, merely on suspicion, awaiting a sluggish telegram.

Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 10, 1885.
It won’t be much fun hereafter to be a city guest. The Council orders the Marshal to feed them all on bread and water. This is a hard blow on tramps. Of course, the cooler is at the command of the city at any time—the city having a life long agreement with the county. Now when a city official takes in an unruly individual, said official will go past the bakery, get a hunk of bread, swing around by the town pump for a bottle of water, and the banquet is ready for the man of durance vile.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 17, 1885.
Thank heavens! Rise up and sing loud hosannas! The filth and slime that has decorated the gutter along Ninth avenue, past McGuire Bros. and the lunch counters, are no more. Marshal McFadden has taken the citadel—got the right thing in the right place, and cobble stones have been scattered in the gutter and boggy place. These let the water through and do away with the mud. You can now venture along there without holding your nose.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 17, 1885.
Marshal McFadden has bloomed out in a new policeman’s cap. We have wondered why he didn’t do this before. It is necessary to the dignity of the Queen City. Then, it becomes our marshal finely—giving him a regular N. Y. official look. It spoils his disguise, though.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 24, 1885.
Some of our business houses are drifting back into their old habit of piling their “rag outs” all over the sidewalks. Marshal McFadden says, by the horned spoons, this shan’t be. So confine your displays, and remove your rubbish.
[REPUBLICAN COUNTY CONVENTION.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 24, 1885.
                                           WINFIELD, 1ST AND 2ND WARDS.
Delegates: H. H. Siverd, Frank Finch, C. E. Stueven, John Nichols, T. J. Harris, A. H. Jennings, W. B. Caton, Henry E. Asp, W. T. Madden, T. F. Axtell, A. J. Lyon.
Alternates: Green Wooden, C. M. Leavitt, Hank Paris, Archie Brown, B. McFadden, James McLain, Walter Denning, W. R. McDonald, J. H. Taylor, A. B. Taylor, Ben Harrod.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, September 24, 1885.
A one-legged man fell into the hands of Marshal McFadden Saturday night. The Marshal found him on the street, wrapped in the sweet embrace of Morpheus, “fuller’n a goat.” McFadden took compassion on the fellow and took him home and put him to bed instead of giving him free lodging in the “Hotel de Finch.” He was one of Sam Harper’s cigar makers. The leniency of our marshal may have a tendency to cause the fellow repentance and a firm resolve to do better in the future.
[A DARK ROMANCE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 8, 1885.

John Soloman and Maggie Smith, colored, were taken in by Marshal McFadden Monday and lodged in our bastille, charged with illegal co-habitation. Maggie is too much married. Two weeks ago she left husband number one in Topeka for a visit at Arkansas City. She also visited a day or two here, met John Soloman, and both caught a bad case of struckology. Yesterday they were married. Smith expected his wife home several days ago and when she didn’t come, began to skirmish and finding out about her goneness on Soloman, sent a warrant for her arrest. It didn’t come in time to head off the marriage. Maggie is in a bad box. She is a young girl and good looking. John Soloman has been almost raised in Winfield, and has no superior record as a masher. That this mash is complete and sad is very apparent. He didn’t know he was getting a second hand girl, he says. The case will come up before Judge Snow Thursday.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 15, 1885.
B. McFadden, burying dogs, $1.75.
Special police during fair and circus, $17.50.
The city marshal was instructed to stop the running of water into the ditches from the street fountains.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 15, 1885.
Some merchants still persist in piling their rubbish all over the sidewalks and throwing their offal into the gutters, making the streets look like a barn yard and giving the gutters the odor of a mixture of Limburger and decayed eggs. This is contrary to the “statoots.” Marshal McFadden don’t propose to tell you to quit it any more. He’ll come down on you with official grip without further warning. So clean your premises of its “excrementiousness.” (We found this word wrapped in an old shirt a tramp printer left in the office last week.)
[A YOUTHFUL HAT LIFTER.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 22, 1885.
Saturday a young man by the name of Cates, from Rock township, about 19 years of age, entered McGuire Bro.’s store and priced some hats and caps in company with four others. Not finding anything just to suit him, he went out. Joe Hudson commenced to straighten up the pile, and, lo! and behold! there was one old hat laying on the table in place of a new one. The hats were similar but Joe’s eagle eye soon detected the change. He rushed out and found the young men at Youngheim’s trying on his large stock of hats. Joe went out and informed Marshal McFadden, who at once took the young man to the cooling off apparatus in Castle De Finch. The young man begged nobly to be let off, saying it was all a joke and that he would pay up, but no good. The Marshal’s clutches were on him. McGuire Bros., after thinking the matter over, concluded not to prosecute him and told the Marshal to let him out. He brought the young fellow up, when he owned up to taking the hat and laughed over it as being an immense joke. Such jokes don’t pan out sometimes worth a cent. If McGuire Bros. had so decided, they could have given the youth a winter’s job behind the grates. Our advice to young men is to wear their own hats and not be such practical jokers. It don’t pay with businessmen.
[COME TO GRIEF.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 22, 1885.

Again has a whiskey vender turned up his toes to the daisies. Capt. H. H. Siverd and Marshal McFadden, as soon as they got on the Dexter reunion grounds Thursday evening, saw that whiskey was flowing. They set about to find the source. About two o’clock in the morning they found it, had an ambassador secure the ardent for evidence, got a warrant from Justice Hines, and the whiskey jointist was raked in. He gave his name as Moore, and was with some itinerants who claimed to be from Las Vegas, New Mexico. There were four wagons, three men, and two boys. Moore confessed to having sold whiskey. He had run out and when arrested had sent a man to Burden for a new supply. The Captain and Marshal brought the jointist in Friday, and lodged him in the bastille.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 22, 1885.
For several days one Bill Johnson, a cowboy, has been shadowed by Marshal McFadden on a telegram received from a Mr. Brown, who lives south of Caldwell. Bill is now in Arkansas City. Sheriff McIntire arrested him Tuesday and brought him up for free board. He is charged with horse stealing.
[A BAD CASE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 29, 1885.
During the fair it was suspicioned that a party calling himself Jim Jones was disposing of the ardent spirit upon the grounds. Jones got wind of it and slipped out between dark and daylight. Marshal McFadden kept still and kept a keen scent for his whereabouts. He largely discovered that he was in Wichita and swore out a warrant for his arrest, and gave the same to U. S. Marshal Burke, who brought him down Saturday and lodged him in our jail. Jones went by the name of T. M. Miller in Wichita. His real name is said to be J. J. Johnson, and that he is wanted in Missouri for killing his brother-in-law, for which there is $300 reward. Johnson was a quiet, able bodied man while here, and seemed to be a good natured, quiet man. He is certainly now in a close box, and will probably be dealt with severely by the rigid hand of the law.
[WELLINGTON’S DUDE.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, October 29, 1885.
Marshal McFadden received a dispatch about one p.m., Thursday, asking him to keep an eye upon a young boy of sixteen that was supposed to be in this city. The marshal looked around but could find no such a party or any traces of him. The marshal and sheriff of Wellington came over Friday afternoon with blood in their eyes. From them the marshal learned that a young boy over there had stolen a bran new suit of clothes; also $200—had put on the clothes and put the money in his pocket, and deliberately walked out of the city, saying good bye to no one. It is thought the boy came over early on the freight and took the K. C. & S. W. north. The marshal did not learn the youth’s name. His mother lives in Louisville, Kentucky, and no doubt he has gone home to her. Wellington seems to be afflicted with youthful money thieves in the last few weeks.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 5, 1885.
The rulers of the city met in regular commune Monday night: Mayor Graham in the chair and councilmen McDonald, Jennings, Hodges, Baden, and Harter present; absent councilmen Myers and Crippen.
An ordinance attaching certain territory to the city, was passed.
The Marshal was instructed to notify the Southern Kansas railroad company to fix its culverts and crossings within ten days or suit would be commenced against them.
Willis A. Ritchie was appointed and confirmed as city engineer.

Claims were referred to the County Commissioners for payment as follows: A. B. Arment, coffin for John Taroler, pauper, $10; B. McFadden, burial of Taroler, a pauper, $8.50.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 12, 1885.
With our present city administration our city has been rid of professional demi-mondes. They can’t rendevous so secretly that Marshal McFadden won’t find them and fire them out of the town in a jiffy. One, an old intruder, was spied on the street the other day. The Marshal took her in charge and without ceremony she was in the presence of Hizzoner. She plead recent respectability. It wouldn’t work. On her promise to shake immediately the dust of the city from her brogans, she was released. And she got. This is business, and the city administration is worthy of laudation for the energy displayed in this direction.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 12, 1885.
One Jones, a young man of 21 or 22 years of age, allowed himself to forget his manhood, reputation, and the respect he should have for the sex of whom his mother is one, and deliberately and designedly stepped up to a highly respected lady, in the city Friday eve and insulted her. Marshal McFadden, ever on the alert for just such animals, got wind of the affair and at once arrested the young gentleman (?) and placed him in jail. This morning he was brought before Judge Turner and found guilty on the charge preferred against him and was fined $17.25, which he paid. [Rest of this item was obliterated.]
[LOCAL OFFICIALS AT WORK.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 12, 1885.
Sheriff McIntire, Marshal McFadden, Capt. Siverd, and Sol. Frederick, under cover of night, and in the full power and determination of official ermine, set out the other night to route a tent—one whose behavior was strongly questioned, yea proven to be unholy. It was gone from its wonted nook, near the south bridge. Through brush and bramble, o’er hill and vale, they searched, and not until the “wee sma” hours did they see its ghostly presence loom. A warning—that’s all. The law potentates viewed the remains the next day—only a little ashes where the unholy had fried their bacon and baked their pone. They had shaken the city, as every such outfit must under our present vigilant administration. Our officials are daisies. No dens survive, no criminals escape!
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 12, 1885.
The one Jones whom we mentioned in Saturday’s edition as having been arrested by Marshal McFadden for insulting a lady has been mistaken for Jimmie Jones, formerly of this office, and also his brother, Billy. In explanation of the affair, we will state that neither Jimmie nor Billy Jones were in any way implicated in the matter. It was another Jones.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 12, 1885.
Tom Johnson and James Brown are the latest victims of Marshal McFadden and Judge Turner. They got $12.25 apiece, and departed soberer, poorer, and wiser men.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 19, 1885.
Mrs. Hattie Johnson and her sixteen year old daughter, Annie, Germans residing on south Loomis street, were arrested by Marshal McFadden Friday, charged with disturbing the peace of a family named Jones, living in the same house. It is a regular red-hot family row that has been brewing for months. Their trial comes off in Judge Snow’s court next Friday.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 19, 1885.

Marshal McFadden took in one Wakefield Friday for peddling ironing boards without city license. He only had twenty-five cents and had to go to the bastille, in default of $12.25 fine and costs in Judge Turner’s court. The jail birds have an initiation fee of twenty-five cents, which took Wakefield’s last cent. The prisoners in this way keep themselves in tobacco and other luxuries. Wakefield is a young fellow of twenty-three and says he lives at Cedarvale.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, November 19, 1885.
Little Guy Herrington strayed away from the Central Hotel Tuesday. A diligent search failed to find him till this evening, when he was found at Mr. McKinney’s near Bliss & Wood’s mill. His mother was terribly exercised over him. He is only three years old and couldn’t explain who he was or where he came from. Marshal McFadden was the mediator.
[STATE AGAINST WILLIAM PURDEN AND SUSAN GREEN.]
Winfield Courier, December 3, 1885.
THE WAGES OF SIN. Out on the Cold World is the Sequel to Susan Green’s Elopement. Purden Gets $100 and Costs. She Gets $5 and Costs and Left Homeless.

The case of the State against William Purden and Susan Green for adultery, was concluded in Judge Snow’s court Monday, he being fined $100 and costs and she $5 and costs and three days in jail. She plead guilty. He stood trial, but made no defense, when he saw the sure character of the State’s evidence. THE COURIER’s account of this case is fresh. Purden and Mrs. Green got acquainted at Burden. She and her husband, Samuel Green, accompanied Purden on his way to Missouri to buy mules. When they reached Burlingame, Green thought Purden and his wife were too “thick,” and pulled his family out of the caravan, going to Oswego and settling. All went well till Saturday week, when Green came home from the country to find his wife and little girl, four years old, gone. The neighbors described Purden as having been there. Green tracked them to Winfield, placed warrants in Marshal McFadden’s hands, and had them arrested. Purden was found at his place north of town and she at Steve Van Buren’s in this city, where Purden had left her. They were put in the bastille. Green was grit from the word go: determined to get his child and put the eloping adulterers through. He got the little girl and left her with his sister at Burden. Mrs. Green, with tearful penitence, begged her husband to forgive her and take her back to his protection. He refused. Green is about thirty years old and she is not over twenty-four or five. She is of very delicate form and fair looks. Purden has a young wife, who is now visiting in the east and means to make it warm for her unfaithful husband. Purden paid his fine this morning. Mrs. Green is penniless, a stranger in a strange land, with no place to go and no one to protect. She is a woman of high temper and much obstinacy. Otherwise she could probably have made peace with her husband, who Monday morning offered to take her back if she’d plead guilty—the first time he had relented—but the consultation ended in her telling him to “go to the d     l!” Green appears to be an industrious young farmer. He said, “I would rather have laid her in the grave than that this should have happened!” Mrs. Green seems to take the sequel to her crime very hard at times, though she exhibits occasionally a “fool-hardy” grit. She has no idea as to what will become of her now. She has little worldly experience—little knack at coping with the world. And her mistake has killed honorable opportunities. There is always an outstretched hand for the prodigal son, but never for the prodigal daughter. Her virtue questioned, she can turn any way and meet only disdain. And her own sex, in its generality, is the first to ostracize her—with the knowledge that in doing so she is driven to entire destruction. Oh, humanity! where is thy charity—that charity that suffereth much and is of long standing?
[FREIGHTS BRING TRAMPS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, December 17, 1885.
Now the tramps are immigrating. The night freights on the S. K. bring in from five to a dozen nightly. The S. K. appears to have a spite at Winfield. It lets the tramps ride till they reach here and then bounces them teetotally. Marshal McFadden and Night watch McLain have a tough time getting the peregrinating Sons of Guns corralled every night. But they succeed in making the “git up and git” on the double quick. They don’t stay here more than a day at best. Our atmosphere don’t agree with their odorous and empty condition.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, December 24, 1885.
Marshal McFadden was on his muscle Monday—scraping the mud off the crossings. This is about the prettiest mud Cowley has ever had. It has taken on the consistency of wax and sticks closer than taffy. Overshoes can be found most anywhere, sticking in the mud.
[$200 AND NINETY DAYS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, December 31, 1885.
Another illicit whiskey vendor has come to grief—G. W. Hall, who kept kegs of “rot gut” in his room in the Lindell Hotel bath house, and peddled it in bottles at a dollar a pint. Constables Siverd and McFadden got on to his racket and soon had some of his forty-rod encased for evidence. Friday he was pulled and tried before Judge Snow. The evidence was of the kind that knocks a violator down at first sight. He got $200 fine and ninety days in jail. He hasn’t the wherewith to pay the $200, but is simply able to lay out the bastille sentence, which will be an effective pill. He came here a few weeks ago from Licking, Ohio, and has been receiving letters under another name than Hall, supposedly from his wife.
[CHRISTMAS IN WINFIELD.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, December 31, 1885.
MERRY CHRISTMAS. Its Grand Celebration in Winfield. Christmas Tree, Amusements, and Glorious Life.
Christmas was grandly celebrated in Winfield. Never in the history of Cowley County has such generosity and good cheer been displayed. All our merchants report an unprecedented trade in holiday goods. The past year has been a prosperous one. With individual prosperity came general prosperity and all felt in a gift giving mood. The number of little stockings filled and the number of little and big ones made happy by Kris Kringle’s annual visit is wonderful. And the number of fat turkeys sacrificed on the altar of appetite is equally wonderful. Baden sold over four hundred turkeys, Thursday, and a thousand pounds of dressed chicken. And the other poultry dealers made remarkably big sales. Those unable to buy turkeys were not forgotten. P. H. Albright’s seventy-five charity turkeys, distributed by Capt. Siverd and Marshal McFadden, were the central figure in a big dinner in as many homes of the worthy poor. Nearly all the churches had Christmas doings of some kind.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 7, 1886.

Marshal McFadden starts out in the morning on the poll tax warpath and those who don’t want to see him had better prepare their cave and get in. Nothing but a perpetual hide will save you. And even then the marshal’s keen scent may down you.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 7, 1886.
Did you ever realize how free from crime Winfield is? The only thing to break the monotony of Marshal McFadden and Night-watch McLain is a plain drunk occasionally. In a city with the continuous life and bustle of Winfield, this is remarkable, and would hardly be so if it wasn’t for our excellent city and county police force. Our officials are always on deck and the “standing in” business is unknown to them. Everybody who kicks the “statoots” is mighty soon squelched.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 14, 1886.
A number of suffering families have been found since the beginning of this storm. What condition more desperate than to face such awful frigidity with no coal and little provisions in the house. Marshal McFadden found two or three families of such today, and supplied them on his own responsibility. The marshal and that natural philanthropist, Capt. Siverd, have been busily looking after the poor, all day. Our people are too generous and noble-hearted to let any suffer whose wants are known.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 21, 1886.
Marshal McFadden is around gathering in the remainder of the occupation tax. He says it must come.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 21, 1886.
Marshal McFadden got downtown Monday for the first time since last Thursday. He has had a severe siege of lung fever. It will be some days before he will be himself again.
[ROUTED OUT.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 28, 1886.
“A secret gambling den was discovered and raided by the Winfield police the other night and eight nice young men hauled up before the justice for participating. Wellington is remarkably free from gambling dens. No doubt there is some gambling done as there always is in cities, but it is seldom a city of this size is found without a regularly equipped gambling resort, conducted very quietly, of course, and not acknowledged to be in existence by the authorities, but which every sporting man knows how to find. This state of affairs is due to the vigilance of our city officers.” Press.
The same here. It’s a mighty sly gambling den that can evade the keen eyes and determination of county attorneys Hackney & Asp, Capt. Siverd, and Marshal McFadden. The “dens” are all routed, scarcely before they get firmly founded. That it don’t pay to buck the tiger, the boys can sadly testify, not only by the wads they have laid on the paste-board altar but by the $58 assessments of Judge Snow.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 28, 1886.

Our article Tuesday evening on “God pity the poor,” stirred up the whole town. That such barbarism could exist in Winfield was a marvel to all. The family alluded to is in abject circumstances, but through the efforts of Marshal McFadden and our generous hearted citizens, are now being well cared for. Dozens of people were ready today with substantial assistance. The Woman’s Relief Corps took the matter in hand this afternoon and under the sympathies of these noble ladies, with a host of others who stand willing, no more want will come to that household. The young lady with the pneumonia is very low and the one with the frozen limbs is improving. Her flesh is so tender that the mere pressure of the finger makes an indenture as in dough.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, January 28, 1886.
Geo. W. Miller, the big-hearted cattleman, gave Marshal McFadden an order on Whiting Bros., Saturday, for 600 pounds of beef to be distributed among the worthy poor of the city, whose pangs are renewed by this frigid weather. Mr. Miller’s generosity, is quiet and practical—vented in a manner most admirable.
[ANOTHER MASH.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 4, 1886.
Edward Kirk, an Irishman who had been working in Wellington, got a bad mash Wednesday. He belongs in Chicago, was “busted,” and had set out to beat his way home. In trying to remount the blind baggage car here, with the train in motion, he missed his hold and was thrown on the frozen ground with great force. His collar and breast bones were broken, and his shoulder dislocated; but he managed to get up and walk uptown. Finding Dr. Wells’ office, his bones were dressed and he put in the hands of Marshal McFadden. He was given a bunk at the jail, where he will remain until able to help himself. Dr. Wells is giving him surgical care.
[THE POOR OF WINFIELD.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 4, 1886.
FOR SWEET CHARITY’S SAKE. Much Suffering Among the Poor of Winfield Which Must Be Relieved. Charity Concert.

Winfield boasts of its superior morality, culture, refinement, and enterprise. These have made our fame union-wide. But right here in our city today is destitution, suffering, and sorrow that is a bad commentary on our splendid reputation. We who have bright firesides, surrounded with the comforts of life, are too apt to forget those whose misfortunes have thrown a pall over their homes—have taken the light, the comforts, and content, making life a hollow mockery, only a daily reminder of their grinding condition. There is poverty in Winfield that few of us dream of. Were committees to traverse the town and seek out those who are in abject want, the list would be astonishing. The terrible cold of the last six weeks has entirely shut off out door labor and men dependent upon their daily earnings, and every city has hundreds of such, are left with no resource whatever. A number of these had some money to start on and were living scantily from it, hoping for an early spring—that with the beginning of February would come a re-opening of labor. Now comes the heaviest storm of all, finding many families whose money and supplies are exhausted: honest, sensitive, and energetic. But they can’t labor when the avenues are closed. Marshal McFadden et al reports many suffering families, resultant from this storm, and mare are being heard from daily. But there is no systematic way of relief. The county refuses to assist except through the poor farm for that purpose; the city council has no lawful provisions for a provident fund, and the only system and headquarters seem to be the G. A. R. and the W. R. C. Recently a number of noble ladies have reorganized the Ladies Local Relief Society. But all these must have the money to use. These members should not be expected to make an inexhaustible fund from their own purses and larders. The whole city has a duty in this matter. Some popular mode to enlist the interest and money of the whole city must be devised: a charity entertainment of some kind. With our fine musical talent, instrumental and vocal, our several very fine elocutionists, etc., we could easily and speedily get up a charity concert. And with wide advertisement of the purpose and merit, everybody, in a generous, public spirited community like ours, would turn out at 75 cents or $1 a seat. They would be ashamed to stay at home, when the great need was understood. Judge Albright says he will furnish, as his donation, the Opera House two nights for such a purpose. Let us talk this up immediately. It must be done at once, if at all. It is probable that this cold weather will last all through this month. We couldn’t do a nobler thing than to create a good fund for the relief of the worthy poor.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 11, 1886.
Marshal McFadden has received his reward of $50 from the county for the capture of Bill Johnson, who has just been taken to the pen for horse stealing. The Marshal got him at Arkansas City last fall.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 11, 1886.
The G. A. R. Post, of this city, whose noble assistance has made many a happy heart among unfortunate veterans’ families, appointed Monday the following relief and employment committee: B. McFadden, H. H. Siverd, W. E. Tansey, P. P. Powell, and J. A. McGuire. This committee is for the purpose of relieving such old soldiers as need relief and getting employment for those able to work. All such apply to this committee.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 18, 1886.
A few tramps are still lounging around the town. Marshal McFadden watched a couple of exceedingly seedy looking toughs, from Texas, they said, and found them taking the bearings of numerous back doors, preparing for a nocturnal raid, no doubt. The marshal collared them, stood the portals of their left ears ajar, and told them to set their hoofs out of town in an hour or go to the bastille. They “got.”
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 18, 1886.
The Jesse James, Jrs., who skipped from their Augusta homes for notorious conquest, accompanied by a couple of wicked “guns,” were taken to the Frisco freight last night by Marshal McFadden, put aboard, and started for home. They were bright looking boys and after a night and day in the Castle de Finch after their thirty mile jaunt, made them glad enough to return to their parents’ domicile. Our officials kept the armory for future reference, or for “pap” if he wants them.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 18, 1886.
It seems that the parents of the Augusta run-a-way boys are a little worse than their boys. Marshal McFadden telegraphed them Tuesday morning, at a personal expense of 75 cents. No answer came, corroborating the statement of the boys that their parents didn’t care a “darn” what became of them. Sheriff McIntire and Marshal McFadden went down into their pockets to the tune of $4.50 to get the run-a-ways home and if the parents hold out as indicated at present, the amount will be a sacrifice on the altar of charity, in which sacrifices are getting too promiscuous with our officials, who are the first to run across such impecunious individuals. The parents should bristle up and show parental interest, exhibiting at least a little human instinct.
[BURGLARIES IN WINFIELD.]

Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 18, 1886.
BOLD BURGLARS. They Enter Capt. Hunt’s House and Get Away With Valuable Jewelry. A Gold Watch, etc.—Other Burglaries.
A big dose of mangy tramps struck Winfield Sunday. They came in from the east on a stray freight and were soon working the “empty-pocket, sick, crippled, and out-of-work” racket in its highest degree, with everybody they met. The city has been so free of tramps this winter that such a numerous presence was a surprise. Marshal McFadden and Tom Herrod ran across a gang of five, two white men and three Mexicans, about six o’clock, near the S. K. depot. They made a careful inspection and concluded them only a delegation from the great army of kitchen-door bombarders that we have been expecting from the east with the first thaw. The officials circulated around with their eyes peeled. But, as usual, the raid was made where least expected. A little after eight o’clock, while all the family were at church, Capt. J. S. Hunt’s home, 1113 Millington street, was ransacked. The burglars got in through a kitchen window, the only one in the house unlocked. Passing the silverware down stairs, some of it on the table in full view, they went up stairs into Miss Anna Hunt’s room, and got away with the contents of her jewel case—a valuable gold watch and chain, a gold necklace, three pairs of bracelets, and a breastpin. The watch had her initials in the back, and could be easily identified. They also found three or four dollars in money. This haul apparently satisfied them and they slid out for new pastures.
MR. COLLINS’ HOUSE ENTERED. The same gang, evidently, or a part of it, also went through Mr. C. Collins’ residence, 821 Menor street, climbing in a back window. The family were all at church, and the burglars had the freedom of the house, and they took it. Everything was turned upside down, but the haul was slim. The valuables were all under lock. A Smith & Wesson revolver, a box of cartridges, a dollar in small change, Mrs. Collins’ set of pearl earrings, a gold ring, and a silver napkin ring.
These burglarious “cusses” were undoubtedly the tramps before mentioned. On notification about 9 o’clock, of these burglaries, the officers were out in full force and scoured the town all night—no signs visible. The only remnant left today of the dozen or more tramps who struck the town last evening are two cripples, a one armed man, and a leg-cripple, very seedy looking individuals.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 18, 1886.
Sheriff McIntire, Capt. Siverd, and Marshal McFadden held up every tramp they could find in the town Monday, searching for a clue to the jewelry robbers.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 18, 1886.
R. C. Campbell, of Indianapolis, brother of Mrs. B. McFadden, is here. He has concluded that there is no place like Winfield and will dispose of his Indianapolis property, move his family here, and locate.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 25, 1886.
Marshal McFadden has a strong force at work on the streets and will soon have the highways in good shape.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 25, 1886.

Marshal McFadden hauled up another victim Tuesday morning for having too much “booze” and took him before Judge Turner, and the usual amount of lucre, $12.25, was paid and the gentleman from Ireland gout out of town. “Bedad, this is too tuff a town for a poor devil as I am,” said he. Our officials don’t propose to have our people and our streets disgraced by these “boozy” individuals.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 25, 1886.
According to the action of the council, Tuesday night Marshal McFadden will be after those derelict in cleaning up their premises. The authorities are beginning this early this year and mean business.
[A TOOL PURLOINER.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 25, 1886.
Marshal McFadden took in Ed. S. Sanders, just here from Independence. Our marshal had a telegram from the marshal of Chanute calling for the arrest of one Sanders who would call at the Adams express for a sack of tools. Sanders called for the tools Wednesday, holding a consignment receipt from the Adams express at Independence. Sanders was busted and had arranged to sell the tools to Walter Colquhoun, a workman on the college, who advanced 55 cents for the expressage. But the marshal had notified Agent Snowhill, who took the “tip” and had McFadden on hand. The tools are marked “E. L. Star,” and have evidently been borrowed without the owner’s knowledge. They are now at the Adams awaiting developments. They are probably worth $10 or $15.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 25, 1886.
Marshal McFadden was ordered to notify all parties to clear pig pens and back yards and to remove all garbage, filth, and tin cans from the allies.
[A GOOD JOB.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, February 25, 1886.
Tuesday morning Marshal McFadden came across Teddy Purcell, from Latham, Butler County, who was full of “spirits Frumentum.” Being too drunk to be taken before His Honor, he was placed in the cooler, and after dinner was brought before the court. The Marshal also ascertained that an Irishman with a red moustache was following Teddy, and had sent for a buggy to take him out riding in order to rob him of quite an amount of money that Teddy had on his person, and when Teddy was in the Police Court, this same party, whose name we could not find out, kept close watch on him, and upon coming out, followed him. The Marshal steered Teddy into the bank and had him deposit his $101 for safe keeping; the red mustached Irishman still hanging around until a young, low set man, with a white hat on, knocked him out of time. It seems as though this young man had been aware of the proceedings, and concluded that the Irishman ought to be licked, and gave it to him just right.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 4, 1886.

Marshal McFadden is fetching the boys to time around the depot. Several boys have been making a business of hanging around and climbing over the cars when in motion. This is very dangerous business and if at any time one should fall under the train and is run over, the parents can’t blame any one but themselves. Parent, keep your boys in school and they will have no time to loiter around railroads. The boys haven’t any business around the depot and are only in the way of those having business. Marshal McFadden intends to use them rough when he catches them; so, boys, if you don’t want trouble, you had better “let up” on this business.
[CLEANING UP PREMISES.]
Marshal McFadden says people are too slow about obeying the council’s orders to clear all premises of “excrementiousness” (we found that word in an old pair of pants a tramp printer accidentally left in our office). There is much filth in the alleys, cellars, and back yards that must go. This is the inevitable decree. If the filth don’t go, the property owners will—before the police judge, and then $12.25 will go. Get out your renovator and prepare for the heat and malaria of summer. With a little effort Winfield can be made the cleanest city in the union. It has every advantage. Nothing but the most swinish propensities will tolerate filth in as beautiful a city as this. Clean up.
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 4, 1886.
The rulers of the city met in regular bi-weekly session Monday eve, with Mayor Graham presiding, and Councilmen Connor, Jennings, Myers, Crippen, Baden, and Harter present; McDonald and Hodges absent.
The Public Health Committee sat down on dry wells for drains, and an ordinance was ordered prohibiting drain wells or privy vaults anywhere in the city, of greater depth than eight feet.
Bills were ordered, paid as follows: B. McFadden, burying four canines, $4; city officers’ salaries for Feb., $129.98; Black & Rembaugh, printing, $145.
Councilmen Crippen, Connor, and Harter were appointed to ascertain the boundaries of territory necessary to take into the city limits.
It was determined to put on the market simultaneously the city building and bridge bonds, $23,000, soon.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 11, 1886.
Marshal McFadden caught one of the Pop boys perambulating over on S. K. freight train Friday, in violation of the ordinance made and provided therein, making a fine of five dollars and costs, with commitment until paid. Young Pop will likely languish for awhile. The marshal is determined to break up the dangerous, boyish habit of climbing on every passing
train “just for a ride.”
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 11, 1886.
Martin Kilcoyne, aged fourteen, and Liman Raisor, thirteen, were picked up at the S. K. depot Sunday by O. S. Mahan, one of the jail assistants. The boys are bright little fellows, but pretty tough. Liman’s mother is employed in an Independence photograph gallery and Martin’s father is a tailor. The “kids” had started west, al a tramp, with capital of a dollar and a half, to make a stake. Marshal McFadden “got on” and stopped their little racket. They are now wards of the “jug,” awaiting word from their parents. They don’t appear to care a continental about going home—treat their episode with unconcerned levity.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 11, 1886.
Marshal McFadden, donning a new suit in which Solomon in all his glory wouldn’t look half so natty, lit out for Chanute Monday eve, taking to Independence the run-away boys. He goes to Chanute as a witness against the tool thief, Saunders, arrested here last week.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 11, 1886.

Marshal McFadden left Monday eve for Chanute, where he is a witness in the State against Saunders, the party the Marshal took in here a few days ago with a set of stone cutter’s tools in his possession.
[McFADDEN & SNOWHILL, WITNESSES AGAINST TOOL THIEF, RETURN.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 11, 1886.
Marshal McFadden and Amos Snowhill returned, Wednesday, from Chanute, where they went as witnesses against the tool thief, Saunders, arrested here last week. He was bound over. It was near Chanute in Neosho County where the horrible Zell murder occurred—the cutting of the throats of father, mother, son, and daughter in their peaceful slumbers, the other night, an account of which our news columns give. Mr. Snowhill reports the most intense excitement and that now little doubt exists that the sixteen-year-old boy, the only one of the family escaping, was the murderer, with probably an assistant, though the boy maintains a straight denial, with a very crooked story. It was one of the most revolting murders in the state’s history, and with no apparent object.
[ANOTHER TERRIBLE MURDER.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 11, 1886.
Elk Falls unearthed, Tuesday, a terrible wife murder. It has not got into the dispatches yet and from Marshal McFadden, who came through the Falls this morning, we learn the basic facts. Seven miles south of Elk Falls lived a family, parents and three children, who had shown signs of domestic warfare. For three weeks past the children have been on the farm alone and when questioned as to where their parents were, nothing could be deducted. Yesterday a neighbor discovered a fresh grave partially concealed in a field on this farm, and investigations revealed a terribly mutilated body. The children were confronted and confessed all—that their father had brained their mother to death, cut up her body, and concealed it in the smoke house a day or so and then, under cover of night, buried it in the field. He then left, telling the children that if they breathed the terrible tragedy, he would kill everyone of them; for them to keep their mouths shut and he would be back in a few days. The authorities went out from the Falls this morning to dig up the body and investigate the facts. It was the result of a family row and uncontrollable temper.
[SCATTERING “COP” DOTS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 18, 1886.
Marshal McFadden and assistant McLain are “popping” it to the unmuzzled canines now and numbers of them are turning their toes up to the daisies. Soon every sausage grinder in the town will have majestically protruding from its mouth, dog tails of varied colors, worth, and nationality. Canine heaven will have an immense immigration in the next few days.
Word reached Marshal McFadden, Saturday, that a colored man that works for Mr. Saunders, the sheep man, who now lives on east Eleventh avenue, had a dangerous gun of the Bull Dog persuasion in his possession, which he might do some harm with on a party whom he had taken an aversion to. The Marshal went out and got the gun, the colored man being out herding sheep, and not being in reaching distance. That colored man wants to look out or he will come next.
[EXTRACT OF DOG.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 25, 1886.

Marshal McFadden is wrathy. Recent investigations have revealed to his sensitive and loyal nature the appearance of numerous offal on the banks of the classical Timber creek. Some of the dead animals had gone so far as to take the water for a bone yard. This is very generous in these carcass dumpers furnishing us dog soup, sheep sauce, and various carrion juice as free as the water of life, but when we think of ourselves as sacrificial cadavers, the whole thing changes; and with Marshal McFadden, we yell, down with ’em. Put them through to the toughest limits and teach them that the place for a bone yard is not in the avenue to the liquid fountain of a city that don’t like dog soup and won’t have it. The river has been cleared and the first rascal who dumps a carcass or any kind of offal down that way will be made to tremble. Of course nobody purposely does it. They forget that Timber creek is a tributary to the Walnut and but a short distance above the waterworks filter.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 25, 1886.
Marshal McFadden says we must all clean up. It must be done at once without delay or he will have to put the law to work. He says there is enough filth laying around loose to make us all sick, and it must be attended to. This is the final notice.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, March 25, 1886.
Marshal McFadden is around looking after the cleanliness of the city. He will give personal notice to clean up and this will settle the matter. So all want to look out or be pulled.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 1, 1886.
Judge Turner has at last found a flurry of relief: three plain drunks, Theodore Eastman, W. A. Hybarger, and W. C. North, who got too much mechanical purposes last night and ran into the chilly grip of Marshals McFadden and McLain. They were assessed the usual price of a common drunk, $12.25 each, and departed soberer and wiser. The party who dealt the “stuff” will take the next whirl—at a considerable larger assessment.
[PROSECUTED: JOSEPH AKERS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 8, 1886.
$100 AND COSTS Is the Penalty Joseph Akers Paid For Prohibition.
Joseph Akers, the south Main lunch counter man, was before Judge Turner Thursday for unlawfully dispensing the ardent. There were fifteen witnesses in the case, three or four of whom, on the part of the prosecution, swore positively that they were intoxicated by the stuff he sold them. Furthermore, they swore it was the vilest kind of truck, bought for cider, but supposed to be a mixture of cider, alcohol, and arsenic. City Attorney O’Hare conducted the prosecution and Judge McDonald and Judge Snow the defense. Akers was found guilty on the count charged and fined $100 and costs. Under the city ordinance, imprisonment don’t apply in the first count. This conviction is well. It breaks up a hole that has become a blasted nuisance. This alleged lunch counter has turned more drunks onto the streets in the last few weeks than were seen before in six months. Marshal McFadden may not be through with Akers yet. He has good evidence for two or three more counts and can easily wind up the business, if necessary. The wages of sin is cash and the luxuries of the bastille. The total cost of this first whirl is $121.50.
[TOO MUCH MECHANICAL PURPOSES.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 8, 1886.

A scene on the street Thursday was a forcible reminder of old times, when the marshal and assistant kept the jail full of “cusses,” resulting from the “benzine” that flowed from six saloons. These fellows, last night, were “Canada Bill” and his “pard,” cowboys from Dodge City, “wild and wooly, and hard to curry.” The first g-d d-n man that tried to take them would get “bored.” The wonderful sight, uncommon indeed in these days of prohibition, of drunken rowdies on our streets, drew like a dog fight. Marshals McFadden and McLain and Sheriff McIntire came on the scene and the bad men from Dodge were readily bastilled, though pretty near too limp to walk. Their “mechanical purposes” was hard cider, drank in a quantity sufficient to turn the head of a mule. The “old time” odor was merely in appearance. They had none of the gory determination and don’t care-a-darn pluck of the cowboys that used to fill up to take the town in the days of Marshal Charley Stevens and earlier. In those days the cowboys were regular perambulating armories; these fellows had nothing that would shoot—but their mouths.
[SCHORE OFF.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 8, 1886.
An ordinance made and provided therein by the city rulers allows you, Mr. Main Street businessman, but three feet of the sidewalk, next to your building. Isn’t this enough for your “rag-out?” Are you a bloated monopolist that you persist, a number of you, in piling your wares on the walk, that the weary pedestrian can hardly squeeze through? This isn’t fair and Marshal McFadden says he’s going to enforce the statoots. Winfield is getting to be a rushing city and needs lots of sidewalk. Another thing, when you congregate on the street, fellows, leave enough room for people to squeeze through. A crowd yesterday was watching a friendly scuffle on the walk. A lady came along, and in trying to get past, ran into the elbow of one of the scufflers and was knocked clear off the pavement. Of course, this was an accident. Don’t crowd the walk that such discourteous accidents are apt to occur. In other words, don’t be a despicable monopolist.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 8, 1886.
Sheriff Burchfield came over from Moline Friday and returned this evening with the forger, W. M. Cox, whom Marshal McFadden took in here yesterday. Cox forged the names of his brother-in-law and another man to a $400 note, which he sold at face value to one of the banks and skipped. The purchaser of the note happened to meet one of the securities the next day and said, “I suppose that $400 note of yours is all right?” The signature was branded a forgery and the officials put on the scent. Cox was a young druggist at Moline and did a fair business. He was too rapid for his cash and got heavily in debt, making this criminal break to get to new pastures. He is a good looking young fellow, above the average, and appears to be terribly dejected over the sequel to his rapacity.
[JOSH JOTTINGS.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 15, 1886.

ONE MORE WARNING. Rid your places of “excrementiousness.” (I hurl this word with no murderous intent.) Marshal McFadden tells Josh that he made a round of the town this morning, under order of the city rulers, and finds many places that must be cleaned at once. Many of these owners are unable to pay fines and he wants me to warn them once more that he proposes to be as lenient as possible to accomplish the object. The filth and trash of the alleys, back yards, etc., must go, or the bosses of the uncleanness will be “pulled.” It’s clean up or put up. Which will you have?
[WINFIELD CITY COUNCIL.]
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 15, 1886.
The city rulers met last evening to canvass the city vote on the special Bridge Act and for city officers. The result corroborates the report THE COURIER has already given. The new city officers will qualify Monday night next week. The following bills were ordered paid: Judges and clerks of election, $52; G. B. Shaw & Co., coal, etc., $45.10; B. McFadden, sundries, $20; H. L. Edwards, crossings, $3.50; J. C. Woodle, stone, etc., $53; W. A. Ritchie, city engineer, $11.50; H. L. Thomas, crossings, $3; Ramsey, Millet & Hudson, supplies, $50; Uhl & Giel, city building, $528.40.
Winfield Courier, Thursday, April 15, 1886.
Of course the new city government will continue Marshals McFadden and McLain. Never has Winfield had better police management. Marshal McFadden is one of the most indefatigable workers to whom any “standing in” business is unknown; and his assistant is equally as vigilant. They understand their business thoroughly and are ever alert to the best order of the city. The peace and good order of Winfield is the remark of every newcomer and visitor and the pride of every citizen. This, of course, is largely due to our high citizenship, but with less efficient, energetic, and fearless officers the condition would no doubt be considerably changed. Now no “dens” can exist. The loafers, gamblers, and burglars are under ban. No unruly person can poke up his head without getting in the toils.
[Above was the last item found on Marshal B. McFadden in papers covered.]