TEXAS HOLLOW TRAGEDY W. E. BOOTHE TRIES TO KILL TWO OTHERS, AND THEN HE KILLS HIMSELF
A History of Domestic Troubles Ironton Register, September 3, 1885
At about 12 o’clock last Saturday night, W. E. Boothe shot himself dead, after shooting at, with an attempt to kill, Mrs. Montgomery, his stepmother-in-law, and Mrs. Willis, her daughter. This tragedy occurred at Texas Hollow, near the Belfont scales.
A little over a year ago, Ed Boothe married Alice Montgomery, who lived on Seventh-st., of this town. She was a fair, strong girl of scarce 19 and a graduate of the Ironton High School class of 1881. The match was not approved by Alice’s father, whom Boothe asked three times for his consent, but was refused. Shortly after the last refusal, Boothe met Alice near Etna Furnace, where she was visiting, and together went to a preacher and were married. Boothe took his bride to his own home at Texas Hollow.
Mr. Montgomery raised no fuss about it but treated both kindly whenever they fell in his way. Time ran on, and the couple stayed with Boothe’s parents. About three months ago, Alice came to town and went to her father’s house to await the due advent of a child. Up to this time, she had not dropped a word of bad treatment to her parents and, though asked about it, denied it for having married against her father’s will. She was too brave to bring grief to him by tales of her own troubles.
But reports came from Texas Hollow that she had been badly treated, that her life was a burden, that she was several times discovered weeping, and similar reports distressing her father’s heart. Her father strongly importuned her, so she finally admitted the reports’ truth. She was then told that as long as it was her desire to remain at home, she could do so, especially should she stay until through with her sickness. Then if she desired, he would not endeavor to prevent her from returning to her husband.
A couple of weeks after the child arrived, Boothe wanted his wife to go back. She refused. Besides, the Doctor said it would not do. Alice should be allowed to rest free from excitement. Several times after, Boothe endeavored to persuade her to return and, when she refused, began to threaten. He would write letters that her brother intercepted at her own request, so she would not become excited.
Her case required close protection as the mind began to weaken, and Dr. Gray cautioned the utmost care. Alice’s father told Boothe that if he bought furniture and went to housekeeping, he would not say a word to prevent her return when she got well enough to go.
Boothe imagined her brother Ernest was in the way of reconciliation, and so he threatened him, saying if he did not promise to get her to return to him, he would kill him; at the same time, he put his hand on his hip pocket, saying: “If you knew what danger you are in you would drop on your knees and swear that you would encourage her to go home.” Ernest says he believes Boothe intended to kill him there and then, but some friends came up.
Last Saturday, Boothe was in town. In the evening, he went to Montgomery’s and requested to see his wife alone. She went to him at the back kitchen door, where they talked for some time. He then started to leave the house, going around the front way. Ernest was sitting in front of the house.
When Boothe saw him, he leveled a revolver but failed to shoot. Again, when near the gage, he repeated the aim and again desisted and hurried away. The last that was seen of him in town was about 9 and 10 o’clock at night, at Pat McCann’s saloon, and about that time, it seems he left for Texas Hollow.
Mrs. Montgomery was visiting her daughter, Mrs. Willis, at Texas Hollow, who lives but a hundred yards or less from Mr. Boothe’s parents. Mrs. Montgomery is the stepmother of Alice, Ernest, and Albert, the latter the Western Union Manager at Ironton. Saturday night Mr. Willis, his wife, and Mrs. M. Had been visiting among the neighbors and returned very late. Before retiring, they sat at lunch, placed on a round table near the kitchen door.
It was midnight when they were thus engaged, eating, talking, and laughing. Mrs. Montgomery sat facing the door. Her daughter sat with her back to the door and Mr. Willis between. It seems they had been talking about the Boothe troubles, and Mrs. Montgomery had just laughingly remarked: “Wonder if Ed Boothe would like some of this lunch?” when the kitchen door was flung open, and Boothe jumped in, revolver in hand.
He immediately aimed at Mrs. Montgomery, who was not over four feet from the point of the revolver, and fired twice. She fell backward to the floor. One of the balls went through the lamp chimney, which was in the center of the table, extinguished the lamp, and all was dark.
Another shot, and Mrs. Willis fell. It was all done in less than five seconds. Mr. Willis jumped up and pursued Boothe, whom he heard running toward the front gate. A moment’s silence in the dark room, and Mrs. M. Asked, “Are you hurt, Metta?” “Yes,” returned Mrs. Willis; “are you mother?” “I don’t know she said – I feel no pain.” She arose, lit the lamp, and found that her daughter had been shot, the ball entering about six inches below the shoulder blade and coming out about a couple of inches below the left breast.
In the meantime, Mr. Willis rushed down the road after Boothe and screamed to arouse the neighbors. Soon another shot was heard near Boothe’s house. A neighbor saw the flash. Boothe was not pursued to his house. Willis had enough to do to attend to his frightened and wounded wife. The next morning the old man found his son lying by the side of the house, stiff and dead.
The revolver of 38 calibers was yet in his right hand. He had shot himself in the right temple, the ball coming out at the left ear. The suicide was committed ten feet from the open window where the father of Ed Boothe slept, and the shot did not awaken him. The discovery of the terrible night’s work set the father and the mother of the suicide wild with grief.
The REGISTER reporter visited the scene Monday morning and saw the old folks. The mother shrieked and moaned all the time, while the poor old father was speechless and sorrowful. The body of Ed Boothe lay in the house, ready for the coffin. The head was badly swollen, and the wounds were still bleeding. He was buried that afternoon at Lawrence.
The reporter called Mrs. Willis’s and was shown the scene of the shooting there, and talked with Mrs. W., a girlish-looking wife, who seemed to be getting along nicely with her wound, which is only a flesh wound, as the ball struck a rib and followed it around, come out as above described.
The shots fired at Mrs. Montgomery missed her almost miraculously. They were aimed at her stomach, but the lamp in the way doubtless perverted Boothe’s aim, though he no doubt fled under the apprehension that he had killed both mother and daughter. When he went into the yard, he hung his coat on the gate post and left it when he fled. In the pockets were a couple of bottles of whiskey.
On Sunday, Dr. Nat Moxley, Coroner, went out and held an inquest. In the vest pocket of the dead man, he found the following letter, which throws a flood of light on the affair. Written nearly a month ago, it accounts for Boothe’s continual threats and predictions of what would happen. His subsequent acts all show how truly he attempted to carry out the purpose of that letter.
Not finding Mrs. Montgomery at home in Ironton Saturday night changed the program some, but it probably saved Ernest Montgomery’s life. Here is the letter that Ed Boothe leaves for public perusal:
STEECE P.O., Monday, Aug. 3d.
To the Public:
When my marriage last September, I was employed by the Iron Railroad Co. as a brakeman. I brought my wife home to my father’s, and shortly afterward, having been thrown out of employment on account of slack business, I discovered that we were not wanted at home. Through the almost constant slurs of my mother, my wife was forced to leave and return to her former home.
God knows that I tried to find employment, at one time tramping all the way to Lexington, Ky., and now since I have found something to do by which I could make a living, furnishing my house nicely and be happy, my wife’s folks are coaxing her to stay away from me. This is too much, and I prefer death to separation from my wife and baby, but I will not be satisfied with taking my own life. I must have revenge.
Right here, I want it understood that I am perfectly sane and have deliberately planned my course. Neight must you judge me drunk, for I am not. Now, I will give you my plans which I hope I will be able to carry out to the letter. 1st, I will purchase a revolver of a large caliber. The one I has is too small. I will fire two shots into Mrs. Montgomery’s bowels. I don’t want to kill her immediately. I want her to have ample time to ponder over what she has done.
If Ernest is there, I will kill him also. If practicable, I will select a time when Alice is not home, as I do not want her to witness the killing. God knows I love her and want her to come to no harm. After having done my work to perfection, I will take three or four grains of strychnia, place the revolver to my temple, pull the trigger, and my earthly troubles will be over. W. E. Boothe.
P.S. – Pat McCann’s Saloon, Ironton, Ohio, Aug. 29, ’85 – Since writing the above, I have modified the programe somewhat. I will probably shoot somebody else, too. I am still in my right mind. W. E. Boothe.
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